> v — ■ CO _-^_^_ ^E - 5 1 ■ :GI0N ^ flft&vuu ^*' V W pate^r?^ $5 : £g& « : -•:•,' ♦ *W**^^oe hi ^i4it ir ^^^Vy ' fvW*^v^ v^ w 1 V _, v w v ^' w '" - * FT™ 11. y - • )^£m$$< ••-v*^ **-... -; v ,. VVww vvy i& *. JVV* iV* v— ' y y ' iii J Ui *p V V i A A A \ V.J A N A i ■._ _, aP~-aIaaJv . VOLUME L BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY OF EMINENT SCOTSMEN. ORIGINALLY EDITED BY ROBERT CHAMBERS. NEW EDITION, REVISED THROUGHOUT AND CONTINUED REV. THOMAS THOMSON, EDITOR OF THE "COMPREHENSIVE HISTORY OF ENGLAND," ETC. ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS AUTHENTIC PORTRAITS ON STEEL VOLUME I. «£* LONDON: BLACKIE AND SON. PATERNOSTER ROW AND GLASGOW AND EDINBURGH 1S70. Ill \( Kll AM> (II., IK I N I I l:- VII I A I 11.1 H. ^ ttvt,^ LIBRARY UNIVERSITY or < ^r^^. SANTA BARBAIU A -5 v./ PUBLISHERS 1 PREFACE. The first edition of the Biographical Dictionary of Eminent Scotsmen was edited by Mr. (now Dr.) Robert Chambers. It was issued in 4 vols, demy 8vo, and completed in 1834. .Tn his preface the Editor says: — "A biographical dictionary of eminent natives of Scotland has been re- garded as a desideratum in our national literature for the greater part of a century. Such a work was successively contemplated by Sir David Dal- rymple and Mr. William Smellie, each of whom proceeded so far with the design as to write a few of the articles. When the Editor of the present Work began a few years ago to inquire into the literary and historical antiquities of his country, he found the desire of possessing a dictionary of this kind not in the least abated, but very little hope entertained that, under the existing prospects of literature, it would be possible to present such a book to the public. He proceeded, nevertheless, perhaps rather under the influence of a peculiar enthusiasm than any wiser or more considerate motive, to take upon himself a task which at least two of his predecessors had failed to accomplish, and for which he could not but feel himself to be in many respects imperfectly qualified. Sometime after beginning his labours, a fortunate alliance with his present Publishers, who had projected a similar work, removed many of the original difficulties, and he was enabled to commence the publication in 1832. "In now taking a retrospective view of his labours, he sees, with some regret, passages which he could amend, and even one or two articles which, upon a more rigid estimate of merit, he would be disposed to omit. He has much satisfaction, however, in reflecting that very few instances of error in point of fact have been indicated to him; so that he is enabled to hope that his Work, upon the whole, makes that near approach to correctness, which is the most valuable feature in a book of reference.'* The second edition, completed in 1855, consisted of a reprint of the four volumes of the first edition, the stereotype plates of which were revised under the inspection of the Publishers, and o( a fifth volume written mostly by the vi publishers' preface. Rev. Thomas Thomson. In his preface to the fifth volume Mr. Thomson says : — "A full national Biography for Scotland, from the earliest period till 1834, was accomplished by the Work, the publication of which was completed during that year, under the title of 'Lives OF ILLUSTRIOUS AND DISTIN- GUISHED SCOTSMEN,' of which the first four volumes of the present is a re-issue. But since the period of its first publication, circumstances have occurred through which a largo addition to the original collection was urgently demanded. The close of the last, and the earlier part of the present century, have constituted an epoch in the history of the Scottish mind, such as our country, prolific though it has been of eminent men, has never previously enjoyed. But of these illustrious Scotsmen of our own day, the greater part have died since the year 1834, while they were so numerous as well as distinguished, that nothing less than an entire volume seemed necessary for their memorial. If in this estimate it should be alleged that a mistake has been made — that the worth which our own eyes have beheld, and over which the grave has so recently closed, has in some instances been rated higher than a future time and the increasing experience of society will ratify — still we trust it is a mistake which the succeeding generation will be easily disposed to pardon. "The author of this additional volume of the 'LIVES OF ILLUSTRIOUS and Distinguished Scotsmen' has only to add, that the following memoirs owe nothing more to him than the care of editorial revision: viz. those of Joanna Baillie, Rev. Dr. Robert Balfour, James Bell, John Burns, M.D., David Dale, Colonel John Fordyce, George Gardner, Charles Mackintosh, James Montgomery, and Thomas Thomson, M.D., F.R.S. These were derived from sources of information to which he either had no ready access, or were con- nected with subjects to which he thought he could not render such ample justice as they merited. For the authorship of the rest of the volume, what- ever may be its merits or defects, he claims the entire responsibility." When the lapse of time seemed to render a new and enlarged edition of this Dictionary necessary, it was resolved to reset the whole Work, so that the biographies in the original work and in the supplemental fifth volume, and the large number of new memoirs requiring now to be introduced, might all be fused into one general alphabet. The opportunity thus presented for revising the entire Work was taken advantage of. Some memoirs which seemed to have extended to an undue length were retrenched, and others that cither seemed too curt, or respecting the subjects of which additional information had become available, were partially amplified, while, following out the more rigid estimate of merit hinted at in the preface of the original edition, a few others were altogether omitted. The editor, Mr. Thomson, entered upon the task for which he was so eminently qualified quite con amove. He revised the whole PUBLISHERS' PREFACE. vii of the lives in the five volumes of the second edition in the manner indicated, and wrote all the hundred and forty-seven additional memoirs by which the present edition is so greatly enlarged, with exception of those of John Crawford, William Richard Hamilton, William Jerdan, Horatio M'Culloch, R.S.A., J. Beaumont Neilson, John Phillip, R.A., Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, James Smith of Jordanhill, Andrew Wilson, Thomas Graham, D.C.L., F.R.S., and probably a few others, which were contributed by relatives or intimate friends of the deceased persons commemorated, or written by gentlemen specially conversant with the departments of knowledge in which the sub- jects of the memoirs were eminent. Mr. Thomson had just finished his editorial labours by completing the memoirs for the Supplement at the end of the third volume, with exception of a couple of lives added since, when the hand of death arrested his career before the final proofs had passed through the press. An interesting memoir of this indefatigable literary labourer, contributed by his widow, has been appropriately placed in the Supplement. There being no more interesting and instructive history than the lives of the men by whom history is made, there has been added to the work a full Chrono- logical Index of the memoirs of which it is composed, by means of which the reader is enabled to peruse them in the sequence of their dates, and thus convert this Dictionary into an admirable biographical history of Scotland, of its kind the most complete that has hitherto been published. In addition there is appended an Alphabetical Index, in which is registered the principal authorities and sources whence the materials of the biographies were derived. In bringing the publication of this important Work to a conclusion, the Publishers feel gratified in being able to point to the entire fulfilment of the promises made in the prospectus. For unquestionably "Among the biogra- phies will be found a large number of an exceedingly instructive character, calculated to form incentive examples to young and ardent minds, and numerous instances of men who have risen from humble circumstances and attained to high positions, and of those who have succeeded in the pursuit of knowledge in spite of the greatest hardships and difficulties." And all must confess that it forms "a comprehensive record of the achievements of those, in ever}- walk of life, whose memories are cherished by their countrymen, and whose deeds form the history of their country; of those who, by their energy, wisdom, or bravery, their patience, industry, learning, or writings, have been influential in preserving its freedom or maintaining the rights of its people; who have been the leaders in the progress of national civilization; and win exertions have raised their country to that proud eminence which it now occupies among the nations of Europe." Glasgow, .4/;//, 1S70. A BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY OF EMINENT SCOTSMEN. ABERCROMBY, The Honourable Alex- ander (Lord Abercromby), a distinguished lawyer of the latter part of the 18th century, and an elegant occasional writer, was the youngest son of George Abercromby of Tullibody, in Clackmannanshire, and brother of the celebrated Sir Ralph Abercromby. He was born on the 15th of October, 1745. While his elder brothers were destined for the army, Alex- ander chose the profession of the law, which was more consistent with his gentle and studious charac- ter. After going through the ordinary course of classes at the university of Edinburgh, he became, in 1766, a member of the Faculty of Advocates. He was at this early period of his life the favourite of all who knew him, not only for the uncommon hand- someness of his person, but for the extreme sweetness of his disposition. Being given to the gaieties of fashionable life, he had little relish for laborious employment; so that, for some years after his admis- sion into the Faculty of Advocates, his splendid abilities were well-nigh obscured by indolence or frivolity. Roused at length to exertion, he engaged with ardour in all the duties of his profession, and soon became eminent for professional skill, and dis- tinguished as a most eloquent pleader. His reputa- tion and business rapidly increased, and soon raised him to the first rank at the Scottish bar. In May, 1792, he was appointed one of the judges of the Court of Session, when, in compliance with the custom of the Scottish judges, he adopted the title of Lord Abercromby; and, in December following he was called to a seat in the Court of Justiciary. " In his judicial capacity he was distinguished by a pro- found knowledge of law, a patient attention, a clear- ness of discernment, and an unbiassed impartiality, which excited general admiration." His literary performances and character are thus summed up by his friend Henry Mackenzie, who, after his death, undertook the task of recording his virtues and merits for the Royal Society: — "The laborious em- ployments of hi- profession did not so entirely engross him, as to preclude his indulging in the elegant amusements of polite literature. lie was one of that society of gentlemen who, in 1779, set on foot the periodical paper, published at Edinburgh during that and the subsequent year, under the title of the Mirror: and who afterwards gave to the world an- other work of a similar kind, the Lounger, published in 17S5 and 17S6. To these papers he was a very valuable contributor, being the author of n papers in the Mirror and nine in the Lounger. His papers VOL. I. are distinguished by an ease and gentlemanlike turn of expression, by a delicate and polished irony, by a strain of manly, honourable, and virtuous sentiment." Mackenzie states that they are also characterized bv an unaffected tenderness, which he had displayed even in his speeches as a barrister. After exempli- fying almost every virtue, and acting for some years in a public situation with the undivided applause of the world, Lord Abercromby was cut off by a pul- monary complaint at Falmouth, whither he had gone for his health, on the 17th of November, 1795. ABERCROMBY, John, the author of several esteemed works on gardening, was the son of a re- spectable gardener near Edinburgh, where he was born about the year 1726. Having been bred by his father to his own profession, he removed to London at the early age of eighteen, and became a workman in the gardens attached to the royal palaces. Here he distinguished himself so much by his taste in laying out grounds, that he was encouraged to write upon the subject. His first work, however, in order to give it greater weight, was published under the name of a then more eminent horticulturist, Mr. Mawe, gardener to the Duke of Leeds, under the title of Ma-ees Gardeners' Calendar. It soon rose into notice, and still maintains its place. The editor of a subsequent edition of this work says, "The general principles of gardening seem to be as cor- rectly ascertained and clearly described by this author, as by any that have succeeded him." And further, " The style of Abercromby, though somewhat inelegant, and in some instances prolix, yet appears, upon the whole, to be fully as concise, and at least a^> correct and intelligible, as that of some of the more modern and less original of his successors." Aber- cromby afterwards published, under his own name, the Universal Dictionary of Gardening and Botany. in 4to; which was followed, in succession, by the Gardeners' Dictionary, the Gardeners' Dain A is- taut, the Gardeners' J'ade Meeuvi, the K . Gardener and Hot-bed Forcer, the Hot-house Gar- dener, and numerous other work-, most of which attained to popularity. Abercromby, after . and virtuous life, died at London in I No*', about eijjhtv vears. ABERCROMBIE. John, M.D. latest of that medical" school of is so justly proud. He was 1 the 1 1 til of October. 17S1. am rhich irn in '■ was - . Rev. JOHN ABERCROMBIE, M.D. Mr. Al>ercrombie, who for many years was one of the ministers of that town, and distinguished by his piety and worth. The excellent training which John enjoyed under such a parent, imparted that high moral and religious tone by which his whole life was subsequently characterized. After a boy- hood spent under the paternal roof, ami the usual routine of a classical education, he was sent, in con- sequence of his choice of the medical profession, to the university of Edinburgh, at that time distin- guished as the l>est medical school in the empire. Here he applied to his studies with indefatigable diligence, and while his fellow-students marked his progress with admiration, they were not less struck with the moral excellence of his character, and the deep, practical, unobtrusive piety by which, even thus early, his whole life was regulated. It was this confirmed excellence of character, expressed alike in action and conversation, combined with his high professional talents and reputation, that after- wards won for him the confidence of his patients, and imparted to his attentions at the sick-bed a charm that, of itself, was half the cure. When the usual prescribed course of study at the medical classes was finished, Mr. Abercrombie graduated at the uni- versity of Edinburgh on the 4th of June, 1803, while only in his twenty-second year, the subject of his thesis being De Fat 11 Hate Alpina. He then went to London, and after a short period of study at the schools an>l hospitals of the metropolis, returned to Edinburgh, and was admitted a fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons on the 12th of November, 1S04. On this occasion his probationary essay, submitted to the president and council, entitled On Paralysis of the Lower Extremities from Diseased Spine, was characterized by such clearness of thought and per- spicuity of style, as fully indicated the eminence that awaited him not only in his professional capa- city, but also in the ranks of authorship. Thus prepared, I)r. Abercrombie, though still young, and almost a stranger in Edinburgh, resolved to establish himself at once as a physician in the northern capital, instead of commencing his career in some more humble district. He accordingly took a house in Nicolson Street, and as a general .or family practitioner his reputation continued to grow from year to year without interruption. Even this, however, was not enough for his active and benevo- lent mind; and therefore, notwithstanding the in- crease of business, and its tempting emoluments, he gave much of his time to attendance on the poor, as one of the medical officers of the Royal Public Dis- pensary. Still deeming his own personal exertions insufficient, he would not rot until he had imparted his enthusiasm to others; anil therefore, when his reputation in clinical knowledge had gathered round him a ho>t of pupil-, emulous to follow his example, he divided the city into districts, to each of which a few of these- students were attached for medical supcrintcn lencc. In this way, while the health of the humblest of the population of Edinburgh was cared for, an efficient class of experienced physicians was trained for the kingdom at large. lie-sides this im- portant service, on being appointed vaccinator along with I»r>. Gillespie and I'ryce, he was enabled to take with them an active part in introducing the practice of the Jcnncrian discovery into Scotland. At length, when, after a course of years, the pro- fessional experience and reputation of Dr. Aber- crombie had reached their height, an event occurred by which it was hoped their excellence would be duly honoured. This was a vacancy in the chair of medicine in the university of Edinburgh, through ath of Dr. Gregory in 1S21. On this occasion Dr. Abercrombie added his name to the list of candidates, while his friends were sanguine in the hope of his success. But town-councils are not always infallible judges of scientific attainments, and his application was unsuccessful. The follow- ing list of his writings, which he presented to the provost and town-council of Edinburgh, on announc- ing himself as candidate for the chair, will suffi- ciently show how his hours of literary leisure, amidst a throng of professional occupations extending over the preceding course of years, had been occupied and improved: — On Diseases of the Spinal Marrow. On Dropsy; particularly on some Modifications of it which are successfully treated by Blood-letting. On Chronic Inflammation of the Drain and its Membranes, including Researches on Hydrocephalus. On Apoplexy. On Palsy. On Organic Diseases of the Drain. On a Remarkable and Dangerous Affec- tion, producing Difficulty of Breathing in Infants. On the Pathology of the Intestinal Canal. Part I. — On Ileus. Ditto. Part II.- — On Inflammation of the Bowels. Ditto. Part III. — On Diseases of the Mucous Membranes of the Bowels. On the Pathology of Consumptive Diseases. On Ischuria Penal is. After the decease of Dr. Gregory, Dr. Abercrombie, although unsuccessful in his application for the chair of medicine, succeeded him as consulting physician, in which situation his services were often in demand, not only in Edinburgh, but over the whole of Scot- land. He was also appointed physician to the king for Scotland — a mere title, it is true, but at the same time one of those honorary titles which often stamp the value of the man, and prove a passport to the substantialities of eminence and wealth. In 1834, his reputation was so completely fixed, that the uni- versity of Oxford, departing from its usual routine in behalf of the alumni of Scottish colleges, conferred on him the honorary degree of Doctor of Medicine, and in the following year he was elected lord-rector of the Marischal College of Aberdeen. Besides these, he held other offices of distinction, most of which were connected with benevolent societies. In this way his life went onward, and while he increased in wealth and professional reputation, his piety made him the friend of the good, and his benevolence the honoured of the poor. But all was brought to an abrupt termination by his sudden death, at his house in York Place, on the 14th of November, 1S44. On the morning of that day, having break- fasted at nine o'clock, he retired to his private room, while several patients were waiting for him, and his carriage standing at the door. As nearly an hour elapsed, his servant, alarmed at such unusual delay, entered the room, and found his master lying ex- tended and lifeless on the floor, his death having been apparently all but instantaneous. It was found, on a. post mortem examination, that the cause of his death was the bursting of a coronary artery. Thus unexpectedly was closed the life of one whom all classes esteemed, and whose loss is still felt and re- membered. Dr. Abercrombie was distinguished not only as a most eminent and successful medical practi- tioner, but also as an able and eloquent writer. At first his exertions in authorship were confined to the Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal, and other similar professional periodicals; but when his literary strength was matured, he produced a separate treatise entitled Pathological and Practical Researches on Diseases of the Brain and the Spinal Cord, Edinburgh, 1828, 8vo. This work, which abounds in pure scientific knowledge, and evinces his profound research into mental character, as con- PATRICK ABERCROMBY SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY. nected with physical condition and action, was fol- lowed in the same year by another of still higher merit, having for its title Pathological and Prac- tical Researches on the Diseases of the Intestinal Canal, Liver, and other Viscera of the Abdomen, Edinburgh, 1828, 8vo. These, however, though so highly meritorious, were but prelusive efforts to something still more important; and after a careful study and arrangement of the materials which he had been accumulating for years, he produced two works; the one entitled Inquiries concerning the Intellectual Powers, and the Investigation of Truth, Edinburgh, 1830, 8vo: and the other, The Philo- sophy of the Moral Feelings, London, 1833, 8vo. Upon these works, of which the latter is a sequel to the former, his literary reputation will chiefly rest; and they will always continue to be prized by the reflective mind, from the views which they unfold of the intellectual and moral nature of man, and the harmonious combination which exists between the truths of science and the revelations of Christianity. Independently, however, of these writings, so dis- tinguished by their profound medical, ethical, and metaphysical knowledge, and so practical in their bearings, Dr. Abercrombie's pen was employed on the subjects of humble every-day usefulness, and pure unmixed religion and vital godliness; so that shortly after the publication of his Philosophy of the Moral Feelings, he produced his Treatise on the Moral Condition of the Lower Classes in Edin- burgh; and subsequently, The Elements of Sacred Truth, which were first published singly and at intervals, and afterwards collected into a small volume. "These tracts," an able reviewer has ob- served, "reflect the highest honour on Dr. Aber- crombie. It is beautiful to see an individual of his professional celebrity thus dedicating his talents and a portion of his time to religious instruction. Such an example is above all praise." ABERCROMBY, Patrick, historian, was the third son of Alexander Abercromby of Fetterneir, in Aberdeenshire, a branch of the house of Birken- bog in Banffshire, which again derived its descent from Abercromby of Abercromby in Life. Francis, the eldest son of Abercromby of Fetterneir, was created Lord Glassford in 16S5 ; but as the patent, by an extraordinary restriction, was limited to his own life only, the title did not descend to his chil- dren. Patrick Abercromby was born at Forfar in 1656, and was educated at the university of St. Andrews, where he took the degree of Doctor in Medi- cine in 16S5. His family being eminently loyal, the young physician is said to have changed his religion to please James VII., who consequently made him one of the physicians of the court. A proceeding so dishonest and time-serving was speedily and severely punished; for, at the Revolution, Abercromby was deprived of his appointment. For some years after he appears to have lived abroad; but he returned to Scotland in the reign of Oueen Anne, and devoted himself to the study of national antiquities. In 1707, he published a translation of M. Beauge's very rare book, E Histoire de la Guerre d'Ecosse, 1556, under the title of The History of the Cam- f agues 1 54S and 154Q; "being an exact account of the Martial Expeditions performed in those davs by the Scots and French on the one hand, and the English and their foreign auxiliaries on the other: done in French by Mons. Beauge, a French gentle- man; with an introductory preface by the Translator." In the preface, the ancient alliance between Scotland and France is strenuously asserted. This curious French work, which give- a complete account of the war carried on by the Popish government of Cardinal Beatoun, aided by the French, against the English under Protector Somerset, was reprinted in the original by Mr. Smythe of Methven for thcBannatyne Club, 1829, along with a preface, giving an account of Abercromby's translation. The great work of Dr. Abercromby is in two volumes, folio, entitled, 7'he Martial Achievements of the Scots Nation. He tells us in the preface, that, not venturing to write regular history or biography, he had resolved to re- late the deeds of all the great men of his country, in a less ambitious strain, and with a more minute at- tention to small facts, than is compatible with those styles of composition. He also, with great modesty, apologizes for his manner of writing by saying, " When my reader is told that 'twas my fate to spend most part of my youth in foreign countries, to have- but viewed, en passant, the south part of Britain, and to have been conversant with Roman and French rather than with English authors, he will not expect from me those modish turns of phrase, nor that exact propriety of words, Scotsmen, by reason of their distance from the fountain of custom, so seldom attain to." The first volume of the Martial Achieve- ments was published, in 1 71 1, by Mr. Robert Free- bairn, and shows a respectable list of subscribers. About one-half of it is occupied by the early fabulous history of Scotland, in which the author, like almost all men of his time, and especially the Jacobites, was a devout believer. It closes with the end of the reign of Robert Bruce. The second volume appeared, with a still more numerous and respectable list of subscribers, in 171 5; it was partly printed by Free- bairn, and partly by Thomas Ruddiman, who not only corrected the manuscript, but superintended its progress through the press. This is said by Chalmers to have been the first typographical effort of Ruddi- man. Abercromby's Martial Achievements is upon the whole a very creditable work for a Scottish anti- quary of that period; the author is not superior to the credulity of his age and party, but he is eminently industrious, and his narrative is written in an enter- taining style. The work shows a wide range of authorities, and is liberally interspersed with contro- versial discussions of the points most contested by antiquaries. Dr. Patrick Abercromby died poor in 1 716, or, as other writers say, in 1726, leaving a widow in distressed circumstances. ABERCROMBY, Sir Ralph, a distinguished general, under whom the British arms met their first success in the French revolutionary war, was the eldest son of George Abercromby of Tullibody, in Clackmannanshire, a gentleman of ancient and re- spectable family, and of Mary, daughter of Ralph Dundas of Manor. lie was born nt Menstrie, in the parish of Logie, on the 7th October, 1734. 1 1 i> education seems to have been regarded with more care than was usually manifested by the Scottish country gentlemen of the early and middle parts of the last century. After passing thn >ugh the customary course at Rugby, he became a student, first in the university of Edinburgh, and subsequently in that of Gottingen. lie entered the army, as comet in the 3d dragoon guards. May 23. 1750. and became a lieutenant, in the same regiment, in the year 1760; which rank he held till April, 1762. when he ol I a company in the 3d horse. In this regiment he r< >.-e, in 1770, to the rank of major, and in 1773 to thai lieutenant-colonel. He was included in the l:>! brevet-colonels in 17S0, and in 17S1 was made colonel of the 103d. or king's Ir>h infantry, a 1 w regiment, which was broken at the peace in 1783, when Colonel Abercroml v was placed on halt-] ay. SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY. It may be noticed in passing that he represented the shire of Kinross in the British parliament from 1774 till 17S0; but made no attempt to render himself conspicuous, either as a party-man or as a politician. In September, 17S7, he was promoted to the rank of major-general, and next year obtained the com- mand of the 69th foot. From this corps he was, in 1792, removed to the 6th foot: from that again to the 5th; and in November, 1796, to the 2d dragoons, or Scots Greys. ():i the breaking out of the French revolutionary war, Abercromby held the local rank of lieutenant- general, and served with distinguished honour in the campaigns of 1 794 and 1795. under the Duke of York. He commanded the advanced-guard in the affair of Cateau (April 16, 1794I, in which Chapuy, the French general, was taken prisoner, and thirty- five pieces of cannon fell into the hands of the British. In the reverses that followed, the British army escaped entire destruction solely by the mas- terly maivvuvres of Abercromby, who was second in command. He was wounded at Nimeguen, in the month of ( )ctober following; notwithstanding which, the arduous service of conducting the retreat through Holland in the dreadfully severe winter of 1794, was devolved wholly upon him and General Dundas. Than this retreat nothing could be conceived more calamitous. The troops did all that could be ex- pects 1 from them in their trying situation. Oppressed by numbers, and having lost all their stores, they made good their retreat in the face of the foe, amidst the rigours of a singularly severe winter; while for the removal of the sick, nothing could be procured but open waggons in which they were exposed to the intense severity of the weather, to drifting snows and heavy falls of sleet and rain. The mortality, of course, was very great. The regiments were so scattered, marching through the snow, that no returns could be made out, and both men and horses were found in great numbers fro/en to death. "The march,'' say-, an eye-witness, " was marked by scenes of the most calamitous nature. We could not pro- ceed a hundred yard-, without seeing the dead bodies of men, women, children, and hordes in every di- One scene," adds the writer, "made an im] ressi >n 0:1 my mind which time will never be able Near a cart, a little further in the com- mon, we perceived a stout-looking man and a beauti- ful young woman, with an infant about seven months ol 1 at the brea.-.t, all three fro/en dead. The mother had most certainly died in the act of suckling her child, a~, with one brea>t exposed, she lay upon the •• . the milk, to all appearance, in a stream drawn from the nipple by the babe, and instantly C »ngealcd. The infant seemed as if it-, lips had just then !>--n disengaged, and it reposed its little head the mother's bosom, with an overflow of milk n ru :t trickled down from id mouth. Their countenances were perfectly composed and fresh, a-- if they had only been in a sound and tranquil slum- ber." The British army reached I )eventer after in- credible exertion, on the 27th of January, 1705; but they were not able to maintain the portion, being ly pursued by a well-appointed army, upwards of 50,000 strong. They continued their progress, alternately fighting and retreating, till the end of March, when the main body, now reduced one- half, reached Bremen, where they were embarked f ,r Fngland. While the French were making those gigantic efforts at home which confounded all previous cal- culations in F.uropcan warfare, their struggles abroad were equally startling. They repossessed themselves in the West Indies of Guadeloupe and St. J.ucia, established a landing upon several points in the island of Martinique, and made partial descents on the islands of St. Vincent, Grenada, and Marie Galante. In these various incursions they plundered, in the several islands, property to the amount of one thousand eight hundred millions of livres (about ^72,000,000). To put an end to these ruinous depredations, a fleet was fitted out in the autumn of the year 1 795, for the purpose of conveying a military force to the West Indies; and the charge of the land troops was given to Sir Ralph Abercromby, with the appointment of commander-in-chief. He took the command, and hastened the embarkation; and although the equinox overtook them, so that several of the transports were lost in the Channel, the fleet made the best of its way to the West Indies, and by the month of March, 1796, the troops were landed and in active operation. St. Lucia was speedily captured by a detachment of the army under Sir John Moore, as were St. Vincent and Grenada by another under General Knox. The Dutch colonies, Demerara, Essequibo, and Berbice, on the coast of Guiana, likewise fell into the hands of the British about the same time, almost without stroke of sword. The remainder of 1796 having been thus employed, Sir Ralph made preparations for attack- ing, early in 1797, the Spanish island of Trinidad. For this purpose, the fleet sailed with all the trans- ports, from the island of Curacao on the morning of the 15th February, 1797, and next day passed through the Barns into the Gulf of Bria, where they found the Spanish admiral, with four sail of the line and one frigate, at anchor, under cover of the island of Gaspagrande, which was strongly fortified. The British squadron immediately anchored opposite, and almost within gunshot of the Spanish ships. The frigates, with the transports, were sent to anchor higher up the bay, at the distance of about five miles from the town of Port d'Espagne. Dispositions were immediately made for attacking the town and the ships of war next morning by break of day. By two o'clock of the morning, however, the Spanish squadron was observed to be on fire. The ships burned very fast, one only escaping the conflagration, which was taken possession of by the British. The Spaniards, when they set their ships of war on fire, had also evacuated the island. The troops under Sir Ralph Abercromby were of course landed without opposition, and the whole colony fell into the hands of the British. Sir Ralph next made an attack upon Porto Rico, in which he was unsuccess- ful; and shortly after he returned to Britain, and was received with every mark of respect. He had, in his absence, been complimented with the colonelcy of the second dragoons or Scots Greys, and nominated governor of the Isle of Wight. He was now (1797) advanced to the dignity of the Bath, raised to the rank of a lieutenant-general, and invested with the lucrative governments of Fort George and Fort Augustus. The disturbed state of Ireland at this time calling for the utmost vigilance, Sir Ralph Abercromby was appointed to the command of the forces in that unhappy country, where he exerted himself most strenuously, though with partial success, to suppress rebellion and preserve order. He was particularly anxious, In the strictest discipline, to restore the reputation of the arm}-; for, according to his own emphatic declaration, it had become more formidable to its friend-- than to its enemies. During this com- mand he dicl not require to direct any military operations in person; and the Marquis Cornwallis having received the double appointment of lord- lieutenant and commander-in-chief of the forces, Sir SIR RALPH ABERCROMBV. Ralph transferred his head-quarters to Edinburgh, and, on 31st of May, assumed the command of the forces in Scotland, to which he had been appointed. In the year 1709, an expedition having been planned for Holland to restore the Prince of Orange to the stadtholdership, Sir Ralph was again selected to take the chief command. The troops destined for this service sailed on the 13th of August, under convoy of the fleet commanded by Vice-admiral Mitchell, and, after encountering heavy gales, came to anchor olf the Texel, on the 22d of the month. On the 27th the troops were disembarked to the south-west of the Helder point, without opposition. Scarcely had they begun to move, however, when they were attacked by General Daendels, and a warm but irregular action was kept up from five o'clock in the morning till five in the afternoon, after which the enemy retired, leaving the British in possession of a ridge of sand-hills stretching along the coast from south to north. In this day's evolu- tions the enemy lost upwards of 1000 men, and the British about half that number. Encouraged by this success, Sir Ralph Abercromby determined to seize upon the Helder next morning, when he would be in possession of a seaport, an arsenal, and a fleet. The brigades of Generals Moore and Burrard were ordered to be in readiness to make the attack early in the morning; but the garrison was withdrawn through the night, leaving a considerable train of artillery, a naval magazine, thirteen ships of war, and three Indiamen, which fell into the hands of the British without opposition. Admiral Mitchell im- mediately stood down into the Texel, and offered battle to the Dutch fleet lying there; the whole of which, consisting of twelve sail of the line, surrendered to the British admiral, the sailors refus- ing to fight, and compelling their officers to give up the ships for the service of the Prince of Orange. Taking the surrender of the fleet as the criterion of Dutch feeling, the most extravagant hopes of the success of the expedition were entertained by the people of England ; but the sentiments of the Hollanders, generally, were not as yet in unison with those of the sailors, and every precaution was taken for defence. The British army, in the mean- time, left the sand-hills and took up a new position, their right extending to Petten, on the German Ocean, and their left to Oude Sluys on the Zuyder Zee. A fertile country was thus laid open to the invaders; while the canal of Zuyper, immediately in front, contributed to strengthen their position, enabl- ing them to remain on the defensive until the arrival of additional forces. At daybreak of nth September, the combined Dutch and French army attacked the centre and right of the British lines, from St. Martins to Petten, with a force of 10,000 men, which ad- vanced in three columns; the right, composed of Dutch troops commanded by General Daendels, against St. Martins; the centre, under De Monceau, upon Zuyper Sluys; and the left, composed entirely of French troops under General Brune, upon Petten. The attack, particularly on the left and centre, was made with the most daring intrepidity, hut was repulsed by the British, anil the enemy lost upwards of 1000 men. On this occasion, General Sir John Moore was opposed to General Brune, and distinguished himself by the most masterly manoeuvres; and, had the British been sufficiently numerous to follow up their advantage, the United Provinces might have shaken off the French voke even at this early period. The want of numbers was felt too late; but. to remedy the evil, the Russian troops engaged for the expedition were hastily embarked at the ports of Cronstadt and Revel, to the number of 17,000, under the command of General D'Hermann, and were speedily upon the scene of action. The Duke of York now arrived as commander-in-chief; and his army, with the Russians and some battalions of Dutch troops, formed of deserters from the Batavian army and volunteers from the Dutch ships, amounted to upwards of 36,000 men, a force considerably superior to that under Generals Daendels and Brune. In consequence of this, the Duke of York, in concert with D'Hermann, made an immediate attack upon the enemy's position, which was on the heights of Camperdown, and along the high sand-hills extending from the sea, in front of Petten, to the town of Bergen-op-zoom. The enemy's deficiency of numbers was far more than counter- balanced by the advantages of their position; im- proved, as it was, by strong entrenchments at the intermediate villages, and by the nature of the ground, intersected by wet ditches and canals, whose bridges had been removed, and the roads rendered impass- able, either by being broken up, or by means of felled trees stuck in the earth, and placed horizontally, so as to present an almost impenetrable barrier. The attack, however, notwithstanding all disadvan- tages, was made with the most determined resolution, early on the morning of the 19th of September, and was successful at all points. By eight o'clock in the morning, the Russians, under D'Hermann, had made themselves masters of Bergen-op-zoom; but they no sooner found the place evacuated, than they flew upon the spoil, and began to plunder the citizens whom they had professedly come to relieve. The vigilant enemy seized the opportunity to rally his broken battalions, and, being reinforced from the garrison at Alkmaar, attacked the dispersed Russians with so much impetuosity, that the latter were driven from Bergen-op-zoom to Schorel, with the loss of Generals D'Hermann and Tcherchekoff, wounded and taken prisoners. This failure of the Russians compelled the other three columns of the British army to abandon the positions they had already stormed, and return to the station they had left in the morning. For this disappointment 3000 prisoners taken in the engagement was but a poor recompense; while the impression made upon the minds of the Dutch by the conduct of the Russians was incalculably injurious to the objects of the expedition. The conflict was renewed on the 2d of October, by another attack on the whole line of the enemy, the troops advancing, as before, in four columns, under Generals Abercromby, D'Fsson, Dundas, and Pulteney. The centre ascended the sand-hills at Campe, and carried the heights of Schorel; and, after a vigorous contest, the Russians and British obtained possession of the whole range of sand-hills in the neighbourhood of Bergen-op- zoom; but the severest conflict, and that which decided the fate of the day, was su.-tained by the first column under Sir Ralph Abercromby. He had marched without opposition to within a mile of Egmont-op-zee, where a large body of cavalry and infantry waited to receive him. Here Sir John Moore led his brigade to t he charge in per: was met by a counter-charge of the enemy, ami the conflict was maintained till evening with unex; 1 fury. The Marquis of Huntly, who, will: 1 (the ninety-second), was eminently dist received a wound by a musket-ball in the sb and General Sir John Mo, ire. after receiving tw< severe wound-, was reluctantly carried I Sir Ralph Abercromby had two '. under him, but he continued to animate the tro ; - ;■ his example, and the mo>t desperate ett' rt> enemv were unavailing. Their 1 --- in ::..- .. . S SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY. engagement was upwards of 4000 men. During the night they abandoned their posts on the Lange Dyke and at Bergen-op-zoom, and next day the British took up the positions that had been occupied by the French at Alkmaar and Egmont-op-zee. Brune having taken up a strong position between Beverwyck and the Zuyder Zee, it was determined to dislodge him before the arrival of his daily-expected reinforcements. In the first movements made for this purpose the British met with little opposition; but the Russians under General D'Esson, attempt- ing to gain a height near Buccum, were suddenly charged by an overwhelming body of the enemy. Sir Ralph Abercromby, observing the critical situa- tion of the Ru>>ians, hastened with his column to support them. The enemy also sent up fresh forces, and the action, undesignedly by cither party, became general along the whole line, from Lemmen to the sea, and was contested on both sides with the most determined obstinacy. About two o'clock in the afternoon, the right and centre of the Anglo-Russian army began to lose ground, ami retire upon Egmont; where, with the co-operation of the brigade under Major-general Coote, they succeeded in keeping the enemy in check during the remainder of the day. Evening closed over the combatants, darkened by deluges of rain; yet the work of mutual destruction knew no intermission. The fire of musketry, which ran in undulating lines along the hills, with the thunder-flash of the artillery, and the fiery train of the death-charged shell, lighted up with momentary and fitful blaze the whole horizon. About ten o'clock at night, worn out by such a lengthened period of exertion, though their mutual hostility was not in the least abated, the contending parties ceased fighting, and the British were left in posses- sion of the ground upon which they had fought, with upwards of 2000 of their companions lying dead around them. General Brune was, in the course of t lie night or next morning, reinforced by an ad 1 tion of 6ooo men, and the ground he occupied was by nature and art rendered nearly impregnable. The British lay through the night exposed t > the weather, which was terrible, on the naked -an l-hil!s; their clothing drenched, and their arms and ammunition rendered useless by the rain. Nor was the inhospitality of the people less than that of the elements; the greater part being violently . a:: 1 t he remainder sunk in supine indifference. Retreat was therefore a measure of necessity, and next night, the 7th of October, about ten o'clock, amid-' a deluge of rain, the troops marched back to their former --.alio:! at Pettcn and Alkmaar, which they reached without immediate pursuit or any seri ius loss. To embark, however, upon such a . and in the face of such an enemv, without was impossible; and, to prevent the •n of blood, an armistice was pro- : by the Duke of York, till the troops should be quietly embarked. The French general was willing to accede to the proposal, provided the Dutch fleet were restored, and all forts, dykes, &c. kc, left as they had been taken; or, if any im- ncnts had been made upon them, in 'their improved state. To the first part of the proposal the duke utterly refused for a moment to listen; and, being in possession of the principal dyke's, he threatened to break them down and inundate the country. The fleet was not given up; but in lieu thereof, Sooo French and Dutch prisoners, that had been taken previous to this campaign, were to be restored, with all that had been taken in it, the Dutch seamen excepted. The troops were instantlv embarked, and safely landed in England, with the exception of the Russians, who were landed in the islands of Guernsey and Jersey. Though this ex- pedition totally failed in its main object — the libera- tion of Holland — it was not without advantage. The capture of the Dutch fleet, in the then state of affairs, was of very considerable importance. Nor was the impression it left upon the enemy of the superior skill of British officers, particularly of the subject of this memoir, and the daring valour of British troops, without its use in the succeeding periods of the war. Sir Ralph Abercromby, now a universal favourite, and esteemed the most skilful officer in the British service, was appointed in the month of June, 1800, to command the troops sent out upon a secret ex- pedition to the Mediterranean, and which were for the time quartered on the island of Minorca, where he arrived on the 22d of June. The very next day the troops were embarked for Leghorn, where they arrived on the 9th of July; but in consequence of an armistice between the French and the Austrians, they were not allowed to land. Part of them now proceeded to Malta, and the remainder sailed back to Minorca. Sir Ralph himself returned to that island on the 26th of July, and on the 3d of September the troops were again embarked, and on the 14th the fleet came to anchor off Europa Point in the Bay of Gibraltar. On the 20th the armament sailed for the Bay of Tetuan to procure water, and on the 23d returned to Gibraltar. In a few days the fleet was again ordered to rendezvous in the Bay of Tetuan; and, on the 30th of October, the whole, consisting of upwards of two hundred sail, came to anchor off Cadiz, and preparations were made for landing the troops without delay. On the 6th the troops got into the boats, and everything was ready for the disembarkation. In consequence of a flag of truce from the shore, the landing was delayed, and in the afternoon the troops returned to their respective ships. The negotiations between the commanders having failed, the order was renewed for disembark- ing the troops next day. This order was again countermanded about midnight; the morning became stormy, and at break of day the signal was made for the fleet to weigh, and by the afternoon the whole fleet was again under sail. Part of the forces were now ordered for Portugal under the command of General Sir James Pulteney, and the remainder for Malta, where they arrived about the middle of November. Than this sailing backwards and for- wards, nothing was ever exhibited more strongly indicative of extreme folly and absolute imbecility in the national councils. It was now resolved by the British government to drive the French out of Egypt, and the armament which had uselessly rolled about the Mediterranean for so many months, was appointed for that purpose. Sir Ralph Abercromby, accordingly, embarked at Malta on the 20th of December for the Bay of Marmorice, on the coast of Caramania; where cavalry horses were to be procured, and stores collected for the expedition, which, it was calculated, would sail for Alexandria by the 1st of January, 1801. Many things, however, occurred to retard their prepara- tions. Among others of a like nature, three hundred horses, purchased by order of Lord Elgin, the British ambassador at Constantinople, were found, when they arrived at Marmorice, so small and so galled in their backs, as to be of no use, so that it was found necessary to shoot some, and to sell others at the low price of a dollar a-piece. It was believed that Lord Elgin had paid for a very different descrip- tion of horses, but the persons to whose care they had been confided had found their account in chang- SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY. ing them by the way. Good horses were procured by parties sent into the country for that purpose; but the sailing of the expedition was in consequence delayed till the end of February, instead of the first of January, as had been originally intended; and from the state of the weather, and other casualties, the landing could not be attempted before the 8th of March, on which day it was accomplished in Aboukir Bay, in a manner that reflected the highest honour on the British troops. During this delay Bonaparte had found means to reinforce his army in Egypt, and furnish it with all necessary stores; and the weather preventing the immediate disembarka- tion of the troops, enabled the French to make every preparation to receive them. The sand-hills which form the coast they had lined with numerous bodies of infantry, and every height was bristling with artillery. A most tremendous discharge of grapeshot and shells from the batteries, and of musketry from the infantry that lined the shore, seemed for a moment to stay the progress of the boats as they approached. But it was only for a moment. The rowers swept through the iron tempest to the beach; the troops leaped on shore, formed as they advanced, and rushing up the slippery declivity without firing a shot, drove the enemy from their position at the point of the bayonet. Successive bodies, as they were disembarked, pro- ceeded to the help of their precursors; in spite of every obstruction, the whole army was landed before night; and Sir Ralph Abercromby, advancing three miles into the country, took up a position with his right resting upon Lake Madyeh or Aboukir, and his left stretching to the Mediterranean. On the 1 2th he moved forward to attack the French, who were most advantageously posted on a ridge of sand-hills, their right towards the sea, and their left resting upon the canal of Alexandria. On the morning of the 13th, the army marched in two lines by the left, to turn the right flank of the enemy. Aware of this, the French, with their whole cavalry, and a con- siderable body of infantry, poured down from the heights and attacked the heads of both lines, but were repulsed by the advanced-guard, consisting of the 90th and 93d regiments, with incomparable gallantry. The first line then formed into two, and advanced, while the second line turned the right of the French army, and drove it from its position. The enemy, however, made a regular retreat, and contested every inch of ground till they had reached the heights of Nicopolis, which form the principal defence of Alexandria. Anxious to earn - these heights, Sir Ralph Abercromby unfortunately ordered forward the reserve under Sir John Moore, and the second line under General Hutcheson, to attack (the latter the right, and the former the left) both flanks at once. Advancing into the open plain, they were exposed to the whole range of the enemy's shot, which they had it not in their power to return; and, after all, the position was found to be commanded by the guns of the forts of Alexandria, so that it could not have been kept though they had stormed it. They were accordingly withdrawn, but with a most serious loss of men; and the British army took u;> the ground from which the enemy had' been driven, occupying a position with its right to the sea and its left to the canal of Alexandria; a situa- tion of great advantage, as it cut off all communica- tion with Alexandria, except by the way of the desert. In this action. Sir Ralph was nearly enveloped in the charge of the French cavalry, and was only saved by the intrepidity of the 90th regiment. The garrison of Aboukir surrendered on the iSthj but to counterbalance this advantage, the French commander-in-chief, Menou, arrived at Alexandria from Cairo on the 20th, with a rein- forcement of 9000 men. Expecting to take the British by surprise, Menou, next morning, March the 2lst, between three and four o'clock, attacked their position with his whole force, amounting to from 11,000 to 12,000 men. The action was commenced by a false attack on the left, their main strength being directed against the right, upon which they advanced in great force and with a prodigious noise, shouting, "Vive la France! Vive la Republique ! " They were received, however, with perfect coolness by the British troops, who not only checked the impetuosity of the infant ry, but repulsed several charges of cavalry. Greater courage was perhaps never exhibited than on this occasion: the different corps of both nations rivalled each other in the most determined bravery, and presented the extraordinary spectacle of an engagement in front, flanks, and rear, at the same time; so much were the contending parties intermingled. Nine hundred of Bonaparte's best soldiers, and from their tried valour denominated Invincibles, succeeded in turning the right of the British, between the walls of a large ruin and a battery. Three times did they storm the battery, and three times were the successive parties ex- terminated. Getting at last into the rear of the reserve, the 42d and the 28th regiments charged them with the bayonet, and drove them step by step into the inclosure of the ruin; where, between 600 and 700 of them being already stretched life- less on the ground, the remainder called out for quarter, and were made prisoners. Not one of them returned. Equally determined was their attack on the centre, and it was there repelled with equal success. A heavy column having broken through the line, the cavalry accompanying it wheeled to their left and charged the rear of the reserve; but this charge was broken by the accidental state of the ground, which had been excavated into pit- holes about three feet deep, for the men to sleep in before the arrival of their camp equipage. Over these holes they had to make their charge, and in consequence were completely routed, more than 300 of them being left dead on the spot. Finding all his movements frustrated, Menou at length ordered a retreat, which he was able to effect in good order; the British having too few cavalry to pursue. His loss was supposed to be between 3000 and 4000 men, including many officers, among whom were General Raize, commander of the cavalry, who fell in the field, and two generals who died of their wounds. The loss of the British was also heavy, upwards of seventy officers being killed, wounded, and missing. Among these was the lamented com- mander-in-chief. Having hastened, on the nr.-t alarm, towards the cannonading, Sir Ralph mu>t have ridden straight among the enemy, who had already broken the front line and got into it- rear. It was not yet day, and being unable to distinguish friend from foe, he must have been embarra»ed among the assailants, but he was extricated by the valour of his troops. To the f;rst soldier that came up to him. he said, "Soldier, if you know me, don : name me." A French dragoon, at the moment, lecturing the prize he had lost, rode up to Sir I and made a cut at him, but not being mar enough, only cut through the clothes, and grazi 1 the >k;n with the point of his sabre. The drag wheeling about, brought him again ; ■ the charge, and he made a second attempt by a lout sabre passed between Sir Ral] h"s si<] - right arm. d'he dragoon being at the in-taut -:. the sabre remained with the genera!. Ab >ut the a SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY EARL OF ABERDEEN. same time it was discovered that he had been wounded in the thigh, and was entreated to have the wound examined; but he treated it as a trifle, and would not for a moment leave the field. No sooner, however, had the enemy l>egun to retreat, and the excitement of feeling under which he had been acting to subside, than he fainted from pain and the loss of blood. His wound was now examined, and a large incision made in order to extract the ball, but it could not be found. He was then put upon a litter, and carried aboard the Foudroyant, where he languished till the 2Sth, when he died. His Ixxly was interred in the burial-ground of the commandery of the grand-master, under the walls of the castle of St. Elan, near the town of Yaletta in Malta. ( >f the character of Sir Ralph Abercromby there can be but one opinion. Bred to arms almost from his infancy, he appeared to be formed for command. His dispositions were always masterly, and his success certain. He had served in America, in the West Indies, in Ireland, in the Netherlands, in Holland, and in Egypt; and had in all of these countries gained great distinction. In the two latter countries, especially, he performed services that were of incalculable advantage to his country. The battle of the 21-t of March, or of Alexandria, while it decided the fate of Egypt, left an impression of British skill and of British valour upon the minds of both her friends and her enemies, that materially contributed to the splendid results of a contest longer in continuance, and involving interests of greater magnitude, than Britain had ever before been en- gaged in. The manner in which he repressed the licentiousness of the troops in Ireland was at once magnanimous and effective; and he ended a life of dignified exertion by a death worthy of a hero. "We have sustained an irreparable loss," says his successor, "in the person of our never enough to be lamented commander-in-chief, Sir Ralph Aber- cromby; but it is some consolation to those who tenderly loved him, that, as his life was honourable, so was his death glorious. His memory will be recorded in the annals of his country, will be sacred to every British soldier, and embalmed in the recol- lection of a grateful posterity." 1 Sir Ralph Abercromby was married to Mary Anne, daughter of John Menzies of Fernton, Perth- shire; by whom he had issue four sons and three daughter-, who survived him. On the official account reaching England of the fate of her lamented husband, his widow was elevated to the peerage, May 28th, 1801, as baroness Abercromby of Aboukir and Tullibody, with remainder to the heirs-male of the deceased general; and, on the recommendation of his majesty, the House of Commons, without one •lent vo.ee, granted an annuity of two thousand pounds to I.ady Abercromby, and the next two succeeding male heirs of the body of Sir Ralph Abercromby, to whom the title of Baron Abercromby should descend. The House of Commons, farther, sensible of the great merits of this distinguished British commander, voted a monument to his 1 The I sir Ralph in another charact n before his death: "As a country gentle- man, ever atti ntivc he stands high 1:1 the estimation of his ncichlxiiirs anc mentioned, that in the f Tullibody, on his paternal estate, a reading school, his immediate inspection, was established many years bad Camfibtli's Joumty through Scotland, 4to, j memory, at the public expense, which was subse- quently erected in St. Paul's Cathedral. ABERDEEN, George Hamilton Gordon, Fourth Earl of. This distinguished Conservative statesman was the eldest son of George, Lord Haddo, eldest son of the third Earl of Aberdeen, and was born in Edinburgh on the 28th of January, 1784. He was not only born but educated in Toryism; and on being sent at the early age of ten to England, his chief guardians and directors were William Pitt and Lord Melville. While he was thus trained to politi- cal life, its particular bias in politics was also deter- mined; and the Tory boy was father of the future legislator and statesman. His classical education was conducted first at the school of Harrow, and afterwards at St. John's College, Cambridge. His father, Lord Haddo, having previously deceased, the subject of our memoir, on the death of his grand- father at the commencement of the present century, became Earl of Aberdeen. As the short-lived peace of Amiens opened Europe to British tourists, the young earl availed himself of the opportunity by visiting France, and other parts of the continent, and collecting that practical knowledge of men and things which was afterwards available in his future career; he also visited Greece, the adopted country of the scholar and man of taste, and returned to England through Turkey and Russia. This visit to Greece, the oppressed and fallen, where every- thing was in such contrast to its old heroic monu- ments and remembrances, and the classical taste and knowledge which he brought to such a study, awoke, as was natural, the young earl's highest enthusiasm; and on returning home, one of his first acts was to establish the "Athenian Society," an essential rule of which was that every member should have visited Greece. He also contributed to the Edinburgh Re- view an elaborate article on the Topography of Troy; and wrote an introduction to Wilkins' transla- tion of Vitruvius, in which he illustrated the beauties of the ancient Grecian architecture. But such ardour, however commendable in itself, was turned by his opponents into ridicule, the full brunt of which was brought to bear against him by Lord Byron him- self, the most enthusiastic of Philhellenists; who, in his English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, dubbed him as "that travelled thane, Athenian Aber- deen." But something deeper than mere political pique may have embittered the sarcasm of Lord Byron. The estate of Gicht, which should have de- scended to his mother, had been sold by her improvi- dent father to Lord Haddo, and the poetical peer may have felt indignant that the earl, however inno- cently, had supplanted him in the family possession. In 1804 the Earl of Aberdeen took the degree of M.A. at the university, and in 1806, when he had arrived at the age of twenty-two, he commenced his public life by being elected a representative peer of Scotland. The condition, however, of public affairs was such as might well daunt a young aspirant for political place and responsibility. The peace of Amiens had been quickly terminated, and the war resumed more violently than ever. The victory of Trafalgar, indeed, had secured our supremacy by sea; but this was more than counterbalanced by the successes of Napoleon on land, which already had made him the arbiter of the fate of Europe. Welling- ton had not as yet appeared upon the scene; and our military expeditions, unwisely planned, had generally ended in disaster and defeat. In such a state of affair>, when the wisdom of the oldest and most ex- perienced of our politicians was at fault, the conduct of the youthful senator was characterized by modest EARL OF ABERDEEN 7 . discretion; and although he steadily supported his party, his voice was seldom heard in the arena of dis- cussion and debate. It was not indeed as a political orator that he was to win his way to influence and distinction, and this general silence distinguished the whole of the earl's public career to the end. But his talents were not the less felt; so that after the reverses of Napoleon in Russia, he was selected for a task of peculiar difficulty and delicacy: this was to detach the Emperor of Austria from the interests of Bona- parte, although his son-in-law, and induce him to unite with the allied sovereigns for his overthrow. That the Earl of Aberdeen should have been chosen for such a mission — on the success of which the fate of Europe depended — shows the estimation in which he was held, although as yet he was scarcely thirty years old. The result of his negotiations justified the choice of our statesmen; and his proceedings at the court of Vienna, as British ambassador, form an important portion of the history of the period. But instead of a full detail, we can only give a passing notice of their effects. Austria was, in the first in- stance, persuaded to become neutral; she next ven- tured to mediate between the contending parties; afterwards, to perform the part of mediator with effect, she found it necessary to suspend the alliance subsisting between her and France; and finally, in 1813, she joined the coalition against Napoleon. The reverses of the French arms in the Peninsula, the indecisive victories of Bonaparte at Liitzen and Bautzen, the promise of a large subsidy from the British government to aid Austria in the struggle, and the prospect of reconstructing her broken dominion upon the downfal of the conqueror of Europe, were inducements too alluring to be disregarded; and the Emperor of Austria became the hostile opponent of a son-in-law whose day of prosperity was evidently drawing to a close. In those subsequent victories by which the armies of Bonaparte were overthrown, the Earl of Aberdeen, from his attendance on the Emperor of Austria, saw a large amount of the horrors of war in their worst forms — an experience which may either have created or confirmed that love of peace and non-intervention by which his administration was afterwards char- acterized, and for which he was so heavily blamed. He witnessed the fights of Liitzen and Bautzen; after the battle of Dresden Moreau died in his quarters; with Humboldt he rode over the field of Leipsic, when it was freshly torn by the ploughshare of military destruction; and on one occasion, near Chaumont, both emperor and ambassador, with their whole diplomatic staff, had to ride for their lives to escape the enemy, and never draw bridle until they had reached Dijon, about thirteen leagues distant. But besides a knowledge of the evils of war, with which such incidents made him personally acquainted, his situation as ambassador brought him frequently into contact with Prince Metternich and other foreign state-men, by whose society his Conservative prin- ciples are supposed to have' been strengthened, and his policy as foreign minister of Britain afterwards so materially influenced. After securing the Emperor of Austria to the cause of the allied sovereigns, the Earl of Aberdeen was commissioned to withdraw Joachim Murat, King of Naples, from the cause of his brother-in-law Napoleon, who had trained him to greatness, and to whom he owed everything. 1 >iplo- macy has duties every whit as stern and unmerciful as those of war, although they are more coolly and dispassionately performed; and the task of Aberdeen, which was to sow dissension among the kindred of the falling hero, and detach them from his cause, was by no- means pleasant, however justified by political necessity. Here also the carl was success- ful; and he "of the snow-white plume," the crowned dragoon who had so often in battle been Bonaparte's right arm, joined the allies, on the promise of being confirmed in his Neapolitan throne. These aliena- tions of his best supports, by which the downfal of the French emperor was insured more effectually than by his reverses in the field, were chiefly owing to the young Scottish statesman who, silently and with his pen, was directing those movements under which the greatest of conquerors succumbed. The earl remained in attendance upon the Austrian emperor until the termination of the war, and was present as British ambassador at Chatillon, where the congress of the allied sovereigns was assembled. When so many difficult claims were to be adjusted, it was necessary that Britain, the paymaster of the war, should be fully represented; and thither ac- cordingly Lord Castlereagh, our foreign secretary, and Sir Charles Stuart (afterwards Marquis of Lon- donderry) were sent as colleagues to Aberdeen and Lord Cathcart. It was a curious destination, by which two Irishmen were balanced by two Scots, as if the fervour of the one nation was to be kept in check by the proverbial cautiousness of the other. At the termination of the war in 1S14, the Earl of Aberdeen was advanced to a British peerage by the title of Viscount Gordon. On the return of the earl to England with the high political prestige he had won, it might have been ex- pected that he would devote himself to public life, and take an important place in the administration. But previous to his mission to Vienna, his wife, a daughter of the first Marquis of Abercorn, whom he had married in 1805, died; and it is not impossible that in his acceptance of such an onerous charge, he sought the solace of a young widowed heart in the bustle of occupation. Be that as it may, when he returned home, he again sought domestic happiness by marrying the widow of Viscount Hamilton, the sister-in-law of his former wife, and mother of the second Marquis of Abercom. Living aloof from the turmoil of politics and the allurements of ambition, he now devoted himself to those classical studies for which he had shown an early predilection, inter- mixed with exertions for the improvement of his estates and the comfort of his tenantry. His passion among these rural employments was chiefly the planting of trees, so that whole forests of which his old age saw the maturity, were the reward of his early exertions. In this peaceful manner his life was spent until the year 1S28, when the Tories acquired the ascendency. In this case Lord Aberdeen was not to be overlooked, and under the administration of the Duke of Wellington he became secretary of foreign affairs. In this important office he was enabled to realize his youthful aspirations in behalf of Greece. That country, after a long, ruinous, an 1 doubtful struggle against the overwhelming power of Turkey, had taken fresh courage from the inter- ference of England, France, and Russia in its behalf, and the naval victory which the united fleets of these three powers had obtained over the Turc -1 gy] tian fleet in the battle of Navarino. In c<>nse [uence 1 I this promising change, the Greeks had rencwi unequal struggle, and. chiefly through the return of "Athenian Aberdeen" to political nl , t! efforts were successful; and the erecti n 1 f tin pal states of Greece into an independent II kingdom was the result. It was th series of experiments in a great political problem, the work- ing of which was reserved for the nineteenth century, and that still awaits solution. It •:.. problem of the resurrection in Miguel from the usurped throne of Portugal; and when the quadruple alliance was formed by Lord 1'almerston between England, France. Spain, and 1'ortuga!, Lord Aberdeen was opposed to the measure. He also was anxious to maintain our peaceful relation-hips with Austria and Russia, when the popular feeling of Britain was inclined for war. Hut these pacific tendencies, under which our island became prosperous, were despised as the effects of a timid or selfish policy; ami his lordship was alternately reproached or ridiculed as the friend of foreign despots, and the secret enemy of British liberty. Very different was the view entertained in foreign courts, where lie was regarded as a wise, humane, disinterested statesman. The same peaceful character regulated his conduct in reference to our disputes with America, and it was under hi- direction that Lord Ashburton negotiated those dilficult questions about boundaries by which a threatened war between Britain and the United State-, was happily averted. The first tenure of office held by Lord Aberdeen a- foreign secretary was brought to a close in 1S30, by the accession of William IV., and the passing of the reform bill. But whether in or out of office, his political character was so well established, that his opinions had always weight and influence with the ruling powers. In 1834, during Sir Robert Peel's br.cl administration, he held office as colonial secretary, and again under that statesman in 1841, a- foreign secretary; and he rendered material aid to Sir Robert in carrying the repeal of the corn- laws, and the reforms connected with our com- In this matter of the corn-laws, he was I, like the premier and many of our states- ■ id his own declarations and falsify his . as he had long seen the justice as -;iy of a repeal. The same consist- ency regulated his conduct in voting for the repeal of the te-t and corporation acts, fueling n- a 1'resby- terian : the 1 icharist was profaned when used as • ir public office. A- I. "id Aberdeen was one of the few Scottish ill 1 adhered to the national church of his y, the event- that led to the disruption in l*4j could nit fail to -ecure his anxious attention. The! , into which the Church of Scotland had h , had at length come to hostile 1 conflict was inevitable, in which one or tii" other party must go to the wall. His en- deavour- ' 1 re om ile them, and prevent such a con- rnest. lint the question in debate among the contending clergymen wa- - 1 . ! by the laity, and the politic- of the church arc s>> different from those of the ;tate, that the healing measures of mere diplomatists, which might prevent two nations from going to war, will sometime- only aggravate a theological controversy, party is persuaded that its cause is that of eter- nal truth — that not a single pin of the sacred taber- nacle can be yielded up without ruining the whole fabric— and that whosoever suggests such concession, can only be a Gallio, who cares for none of these things. Such in the present case was the fate of Lord Aberdeen, and his statesmanlike proposals for their mutual reconciliation: his healing measure for that purpose was supposed only to have hastened on the disruption which it sought to avert. The church was rent asunder, and while each party claimed to be the only true Church of Scotland, his plan, called Lord Aberdeen's Act, which had been at once rejected by the Free Church, has been found by the other an impracticable device, and a blunder in ecclesiastical polity. It will be well when states- men cease to legislate in religious doctrines which they cannot understand, and in a spiritual govern- ment with which they should not meddle. On the retirement of Sir Robert Peel after the corn-law bill had been carried, the Earl of Aber- deen followed his example, and on the melancholy and sudden death of the former, the earl was recog- nized as the head of the party called the Peelites. Although small in numbers, and suffering under the odium occasioned by the abolition of the protection duties, they were still powerful from their position and political talents. This was acknowledged wdien both Whigs and Tories had failed to carry on the government, so that on the downfal of the Derby- Disraeli ministry in 1852, the earl was called upon to form a new administration. He complied, and suc- ceeded by forming a coalition not of one, but of all parties, so that the new cabinet was composed of members of every shade of political opinion from the ultra-Tory to the extreme Radical. Such a stretch of liberality, while it was demanded by the necessity of the occasion, would have found few statesmen capable of imitating. The first great trial of the new government with Lord Aberdeen at its head, was the Russian war. ddie pacific principles by which his political life had been governed had now become with him a second nature, while the benefits of the long peace which had generally prevailed in Europe during forty vears seemed to warrant their propriety. Here his lordship was placed in a manifest dilemma. A bold and de- cisive course might either arrest the outbreak, or bring it only the sooner into action. Dismayed by the un- certainty of such an experiment, Lord Aberdeen tem- porized, first in the hope that war might be averted, and afterwards, that although declared it would not tie carried out. In this vacillation he was seconded by some of the ablest members of the cabinet, so that when the Crimean war broke out the country was only half prepared. On the events of this glorious but unfortunate war we shall not here dwell: it is enough to state, that the preparations to meet it were so defective, and the mode of carrying it on so unsatisfactory, that the public discontent compelled the cabinet to resign. His lordship quitted office on the 30th of January, 1S55, and retired into private life; and while he carried with him the esteem of all parties, who acknowledged him to have been a wise and upright statesman, notwithstanding the defects of hi- administration, he was honoured by the queen with the order of the Garter in acknowledg- ment of his public services. While his lordship's political career had thus on the whole been illustrious, and so beneficial to his country, it was in private life that his amiable qualities were Lest felt and appreciated. He was enthusi- astically beloved by his tenants, to whom he was ever an indulgent creditor; none of them were dis- trained for rent or ejected for its non-payment; and JOHN ABERNETHY. while all of them were comfortable, not a few of them became rich under such a kind considerate landlord. He also showed, even when worn out with years and sickness, that however attached to peace with foreign powers, and non-intervention in their quarrels, he was ready to prefer war to peace when the honour or safety of the country was at stake. This he showed in the volunteer movement, when apprehensions of a foreign invasion called forth such an armed demonstration. The earl was one of its strongest supporters, and his tenantry raised the second rifle corps in Aberdeenshire, which had his son, the Hon. Arthur Hamilton Gordon, for its captain. One of his last public acts was to give a proof of his heartiness in this patriotic move- ment. On the 2d of October, i860, the earl invited the officers of the Methlic and Turves Volunteer rifles (his own tenants) to Haddo House, and pre- sented to each of them a handsome and valuable sword, bearing an inscription and the name of the donor — and this, too, when he was so weak that he was obliged to sit on a couch, and had hardly strength to lift the weapons. His lordship died on the 14th December, i860, at Argyll House, London, aged seventy-six. ABERNETHY, Johx, an eminent surgeon and writer on physiology. The birth and parentage of this gentleman were so obscure, that it is impossible to say with certainty whether he was a native of Ireland or of Scotland. It is even affirmed that he was himself ignorant of the country of his birth. Upon the supposition that he was born in Scotland, his name is introduced in the present work. The date of his birth is given loosely as 1763-64. His parents having brought him in his infancy to London, he commenced his education at a day-school in Loth- bury, where he acquired the elements of classical literature. Having afterwards been bound appren- tice to Mr. Charles Blick, surgeon to St. Bartholo- mew's Hospital, he had the advantage of attending that noble institution, where he eagerly seized every opportunity of making himself practically acquainted with his profession. He also had the advantage of attending the lectures of Mr. John Hunter, at the time when that gentleman was commencing the de- velopment of those great discoveries which have made his name so famous. The curiosity which those dis- coveries excited in the public at large, was felt in an uncommon degree by Mr. Abernethy, whose assiduity and ardour as a pupil attracted the notice of the lecturer, and rendered the latter his friend for life. While as yet a very young practitioner, his repu- tation procured for Mr. Abernethy the situation of assistant-surgeon at St. Bartholomew's; and he soon after commenced a course of lectures in the hospital, which, though not very successful at first, became in time the most frequented of any in London, so as to lay the foundation of a medical school of the highest reputation in connection with this institution. On the denth of Sir Charles Blick, his former master, Mr. Abernethy, now considered as the best teacher of anatomy, physiology, and surgery in the metro- polis, was elected surgeon to the hospital. The fust publications of Mr. Abernethy were a few jihysiologic.il essays, and one on lumbar abscess, which, with some additions, formed his first volume, published 1703-07. in Svo, under the title of Sur- gical and Physiological Essays. These were char- acterized by the same strong sense, and plain and forcible illustration, which marked everything that flowed from his tongue and pen till the end of his life. In 1S04 appeared another volume, entitled Surgical Observations, containing a Classification 0/ Tumours, with Cases to illustrate the History 0/ each Species; an Account of Diseases, &c. ; and, in 1 806, Surgical Observations, Part Second, containing an Account of Disorders of the Health in general, and of the Digestive Organs in particular, which accom- pany Local Diseases, and obstruct their Cure. The fame of these treatises soon spread, not only through- out England, but over the continent of Europe; and the French surgeons, especially, did homage to the masterly spirit they evinced. Bold and successful operations, practical and lucid descriptions, original and comprehensive views, all combined to enhance the great reputation of the author, and to elevate the character of the national school of which he was so bright an ornament. In 1814 Mr. Abernethy received what might be considered as the highest honour which his profession had to bestow, in being appointed anatomical lecturer to the Royal College of Surgeons. An anecdote illustrative of his sound integrity is told in reference to this era of his life. A fellow of the college having remarked to him, that now they should have some- thing new, Mr. Abernethy seriously asked him what he meant. "Why," said the other, " of course you will brush up the lectures which you have been so long delivering at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and let us have them in an improved form." " Do you take me for a fool or a knave?" rejoined Mr. Aber- nethy. "I have always given the students at the hospital that to which they are entitled — the best produce of my mind. If I could have made my lec- tures to them better, I would instantly have made them so. I will give the College of Surgeons pre- cisely the same lectures, down to the smallest details." In the year of this honourable appointment, he pub- lished An Inquiry into the Probability and Ra- tionality of Mr. Hunter s Theory of Life; being the subject of the two first lectures delivered before the Royal College of Surgeons of London. The aim of these lectures was to elucidate the doctrine pre- viously laid down by Mr. Hunter, that "life, in general, is some principle of activity added by the will of Omnipotence to organized structure, an immaterial soul being superadded, in man, to the structure and vitality which he possesses in common with other animals." Of this work, it is generally allowed that the intentions are better than the philo- sophy. Previously to this period, Mr. Abernethy had pub- lished other treatises besides those already named. One of the most remarkable was Surgical Obser- vations on the Constitutional Origin and Treatment of Local Diseases, and on Aneurism, Svo, iSco. His memorable cases of tying the iliac artery tor aneurism are detailed in this volume; cases which may almost be said to form an era in adventurous surgical experiment. Mr. Abernethy also wrote works on Diseases resembling Syphilis, and on Diseases of the Urethra; On Injuries if the Head and Miscellaneous Subjects; and another vohn Physiological Essays. He was likewise I of the anatomical and physiological articles in Kee> Cyclopedia, previous to the article Canal. Among his various accomplishments must be ran considerable acquaintance with chemistry; and one of his numerous honours is the having, in ^ m- panywith Mr. Howard, discovered fulminating mer- cury. Besides his business as a lecturer, Mr. A! enjoyed a vast and lucrative practice as a > His manner in both capacities was mark eccentricities, but particularly in the hitter. He not endure the tedious and coi patient: arc apt to lay before a consulting sui TOHX ABERNETHY ALEXANDER ADAM. ar.d, in checking these, was not apt to regard much the rules of good-breeding. Considerable risks were thus encountered for the sake of his advice; but this was generally so excellent, that those who required it were seldom afraid to hazard the slight offence to their feelings with which it was liable to be accom- panied. Many anecdotes of Mr. Abernethy's ren- counters with his patients are preserved in the pro- fession. The two following are given in Sir James Eyre's recent work, The Stomach and its Difficul- ties; — " A very talkative lady, who had wearied the temper <>t" Mr. Abernethy, which was at all tunes im- patient of gabble, was told by him the first moment that he could get a chance of speaking, to he good enough to put out her tongue. ' Now, pray, madam,' said he, playfully, ' keep it out.' The hint was taken. He rarely met with his match, but on one occasion he fairly owned that he had. He was sent for to an innkeeper, who had had a quarrel with his wife, and who had scored his face with her nails, so that the p'">r man was bleeding ami much disfigured. Mr. Abernethy considered this an opportunity not to be 1 o*t for admonishing the offender, and said, ' Madam, are you not ashamed of yourself to treat your husband thus the husband, who is the head of all, nwrhead, madam, in fact?' 'Well, doctor,' fiercely retorted the virago, 'and may I not scratch my own head?' Upon this her friendly adviser, after giving directions for the benefit of the patient, turned upon his heel, and confessed himself beaten for once." But abrupt- ness and rudeness were not his only eccentricities. He carried practical benevolence to a pitch as far from the common line as any of his other peculiarities. Where poverty and disease prevented patients from waiting upon him in his own house, he was frequently known, not only to visit them constantly, and at inconvenient distances, without fee or reward, but generously to supply them from his own purse with what their wants required. Perhaps the most strik- ing, <>'.;t of the numerous anecdotes which have been i of him, in illustration of his eccentricities, is <eared to have arrested the progress of trie disease, for he was after- wards able to walk about his room. The apoplectic symptoms, however, returned in a few days, and he fell into a state of stupor. His last words marked the gradual darkening of the ray of life and intellect beneath this mortal disorder. He said, "It grows dark, boys — you may go — " his mind evidently wandering at that moment to the scene where he had spent the better part of his life. This twilight soon settled down into the night of death: he expired early in the morning of the 18th December, 1809. The death of the amiable and excellent Dr. Adam operated among his numerous friends and admirers like a shock of electricity. Men of all ages and de- nominations were loud in lamenting an event which had bereaved them of a common benefactor. The effect of the general feeling was a resolution to honour him with what was at that time a very rare circumstance in Scotland — a public funeral. The life of Dr. Adam proves, had any proof been wanting, the possibility of rising to distinction in this country from any grade of life, and through what- soever intervening difficulties. In 1758 and 1759 he was a student living at the inconceivably humble rate of four guineas a year; in ten years thereafter he had qualified himself for, and attained, a situation which, in Scotland, is an object of ambition to men of con- siderable literary rank. The principal features of his character were, unshaken independence and in- tegrity, ardour in the cause of public liberty, the utmost purity of manners and singleness of heart, and a most indefatigable power of application to the severest studies. "His external appearance was that of a scholar who dressed neatly for his own sake, but who had never incommoded himself with fashion in the cut of his coat or in the regulation of his gait. Upon the street he often appeared in a studious atti- tude, and in winter always walked with his hands crossed, and thrust into his sleeves. His features were regular and manly, and he was above the middle size. In his well-formed proportions and in his firm regular pace there appeared the marks of habitual temperance. He must have been generally attractive in his early days; and, in his old age, his manners and conversation enhanced the value and interest of every qualification. When he addresse 1 his scholars, when he commended excellence, or when he was seated at his own fireside with a friend on whom he could rely, it was delightful to be near him; and no man could leave his company without declaring that he loved Dr. Adam." ADAM. Robert, an eminent architect, was born at Edinburgh in the year 172S. His father. William Adam, of Maryburgh, in the county oi Fife, also distinguished himself as an architect: Hopetoun House and the Royal Infirmary a: ; burgh are specimens of his abilities. Robert, the second son, inherited his father's taste, and lived in a time more favourable to its development. lie wr.s educated in the university of Edinburgh, v here he enjoyed the kind attentions of Robertson. Smith, r.r 1 Ferguson, all of whom were his father's friends. A> he advanced in life he was on friendly and in! terms with Archibald. Duke of Argyie. Sir < Townshend, and the Earl of Mansfield. Abo 1 vear 17^4, with a view to improve his kr architecture, he travelled on the Continent, and re- sided three years in Italy, where lie - magnificent specimens of Roman . the buildings of the ancient , proper school of the architectural student, but '4 ROBERT ADAM while he beheld with much pleasure the remains of the public buildings of the Romans, he regretted to perceive that hardly a vestige of their private houses or villas was anywhere to be found. The interest which he felt in this particular branch of Roman re- mains, ami his anxiety to behold a good specimen of the private buildings of this wonderful people, induced him to undertake a voyage to Spalatro, in Dalmatia, to visit and examine the palace of Dioclesian, where, after his resignation of the empire, in 305, that emperor spent the last nine years of his life. He sailed from Venice in 1754. accompanied by two ex- perienced draughtsmen and M. Clerisseau, a French antiquary and artist. On their arrival at Spalatro they found that the palace had not suffered less from dilapidations by the inhabitants, to procure materials for building, than from the injuries of time; and that, in many places, the very foundations of the ancient structures were covered with modern houses. When they began their labour-, the vigilant jealousy of the government was alarmed, and they were soon inter- rupted; foi, suspecting their object was to view and make plans of the fortifications, the governor issued a peremptory order, commanding them to desist. It was only through the influence and mediation of General Gramie, the commander-in-chief of the Venetian forces (probably a Scotsman), that they were at length permitted to resume their labours; and in live week-, they finished plans and views of the remaining fragments, from which they afterwards executed perfect designs of the whole building. Mr. Adam soon after returned to England, and speedily ■ professional eminence. In 1762 he was ap- |K)inted architect to their majesties, and in the year ■ :i_; he published, in one volume large folio, Rums of the Palate of the Emfcrcr Dioclesian at tiro, in Dalmatia. This splendid work con- tains seventy-one plates, besides letter-press descrip- tions, lie had at this time been elected a member of tiie Royal an 1 Antiquarian Societies, and in 1768 he was elected to represent Kinross-shire in parlia- h \\a> probably owing to the local influ- ence <>f his family. A seat in the 1 louse of Commons being incompatible with employment under the . in- n »w resigned his office as architect to their it continued to prosecute his professional easing reputation, being much em- ployed by the English nobility and gentry in con- ng new and embellishing ancient mansions. In the year 177;. in conjunction with his brother, Jam-- Adam, who also rose to considerable reputa- tion as an . • commenced The Works in /.'. an,/ J. Adam, which before 1776 hi 1 readied a fourth number, and was a work of equal s; !■ n i uir with the one above referred to. The four numbers contain, among other productions, Sion House, Caen Wood, Luton Lark House, the Gateway : the A Imiralty, and the General Register House at Edinburgh; all of which have been admired f)r eh ;:i and correct taste, though the present age, in its rage for a severe simplicity, might ■■ of certain minute ornaments with \ iam- wert; accustomed to fill up vacant this period the two brothers had reared in London thai splendid monument of their Vdelphi, which, however, was too exten- sive a spei illation to be profitable. They were I in 1774 to obtain an act if parliament to dis- pose of the houses by way of lottery. The chief ish designs of Adam, be-: :■■- the Register ( ((Tire, were the new additions to the University of Edin- burgh and the Infirmary of Glasgow. "We have also seen and admired," says a biographer, "elcant - executed by Mr. Adam, which were intended PATRICK ADAMSON. for the South Bridge and South Bridge Street of Edinburgh; and which, if they had been adopted, would have added much to the decoration of that part of the town. But they were considered un- suitable to the taste or economy of the times, and were therefore rejected. Strange incongruities," con- tinues the same writer, "appear in some buildings which have been erected from designs by Mr. Adam. But of these it must be observed, that they have been altered or mutilated in execution, according to the convenience or taste of the owner; and it is well known that a slight deviation changes the character and mars the effect of the general design. A lady of rank was furnished by Mr. Adam with the design of a house; but on examining the building after it was erected, he was astonished to find it out of all pro- portion. On inquiring the cause he was informed that the pediment he had designed was too small to admit a piece of new sculpture which represented the arms of the family, and, by the date which it bore, incontestably proved its antiquity. It was therefore absolutely necessary to enlarge the dimensions of the pediment to receive this ancient badge of family honour, and sacrifice the beauty and proportion of the wdiole building. We have seen a large public build- ing which was also designed by Mr. Adam; but when it was erected the length was curtailed of the space of two windows, while the other parts remained ac- cording to the original plan. It now appears a heavy unsightly pile, instead of exhibiting that elegance of proportion and correctness of style which the faithful execution of Mr. Adam's design would have probably given it. To the last period of his life Mr. Adam displayed the same vigour of genius and refinement of taste; for in the space of one year immediately preceding his death he designed eight great public works, besides twenty-five private buildings, so various in style, and beautiful in composition, that they have been allowed by the best judges to be sufficient of themselves to establish his fame as an unrivalled artist." Mr. Adam died on the 3d of March, 1792, by the bursting of a blood-vessel, in the sixty-fourth year of his age, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. It remains only to be said that, while his works commanded the admiration of the public, his natural suavity of manners, joined to his excellent moral character, had made a deep im- pression upon the circle of his own private friends. His brother James, who has been referred to as associated with him in many of his works, died October 20, 1794. ADAMSON, Henry, a poet of the seventeenth century, and probably a relative of the subject of the following article, was the son of James Adamson, who was dean of guild in Perth, anno 1600, when the Gowrie conspiracy took place in that city. The poet was educated for the pulpit, and appears to have made considerable progress in classical studies, as he wrote Latin poetry above mediocrity. He en- joyed the friendship and esteem of a large circle of the eminent men of that age, particularly Drummond of Hawthornden, who induced him, in 1638, to publish a poem entitled Mirthful Musings for the Death of Mr. Gall; being in fact a versified history of his native town, full of quaint allegorical allusions suitable to the taste of that age. A new edition of this curious poem, which had become exceedingly rare, was published in 1774, with illustrative notes by Mr. Jame- Cant. The ingenious author died in 1639, the year after the publication of his poem. ADAMSON, Patrick, Archbishop of St. Andrews. 'I his prelate, whose name occupies so PATRICK ADAMSON. '5 remarkable a place in the history of the Scottish reformation, was born of humble parents, in the town of Perth, in or nigh the year 1543. He studied at the university of St. Andrews, and, after having gon.- through the usual course, he graduated as Master of Arts. His name at this period was Patrick Consteane, or Constance, or Constantine, for in all these forms it is written indifferently; but how it afterwards passed into Adamson we have no means of ascertaining. At the close of his career at college, he opened a school in Fife, and soon obtained the notice and patronage of James M'Gill of Rankeillor, one of the judges of the Court of Session, who possessed considerable political influence. He had not long been minis- ter of Ceres, to which he had been appointed, when we find him impatient to quit his charge; and accord- ingly, in 1564, he applied to the General Assembly for leave "to pass to other countries for a time, to acquire increase of knowledge," but was inhibited to leave his charge without the Assembly's license. That license, however, he seems at length to have obtained, and probably also before the meeting of the Assembly in the following year, when they published such stringent decisions against those ministers who abandon their spiritual charges. Patrick Con- stance, or, as we shall henceforth call him, Adam- son, now appointed tutor of the son of M'Gill of Rankeillor, passed over with his young charge, who was destined for the study of the civil law, to Paris, at that time the chief school of the dis- tinguished jurisconsults of Europe. Adamson had not been long in Paris when such adventures befell him as might well make him sigh f >r the lowly obscurity of Ceres. In the course of events that had occurred in Scotland during his absence, were the marriage of Queen Mary and Henry Darnley, and the birth of their infant, after- wards James VI.; and Adamson, who at this time was more of a courtier than a politician, and more of a poet than either, immediately composed a triumphant "carmen" on the event, entitled, Seren- issimi et nobilissimi ScotLc, AnglitE, Francuc, et Hibernitz Principis, Henrici Stuarti Illtistrissimi //era's, ac .l/irur /teffiiicr amplissima: FUii, Geneth- liacum. The very title was a startling one, both to France and England, the great political questions of which countries it at once prejudged, by giving them the Scottish queen for their lawful, indisput- able sovereign. Had this poem, which was pub- lished a few days after the event, been produced in England, its author would scarcely have escaped the Star Chamber; but as it was, he was within the reach of Catherine de Medicis, to the full as jealous of her authority as Elizabeth herself. Adamson was therefore rewarded for his Latin poetry by a six months' imprisonment, which per- haps would have been succeeded by a worse in- lliction, had it not been for the mediation of Mary herself, backed by that of some of her chief nobles. It did not at th.it time suit the policy of France to break witli Scotland, and the poet was set at liberty. Having thus had a sufficient sojourn in Paris, Adamson repaired with his pupil to Bourges, where both entered themselves as students of law. Even here, however, he was not long allowed to remain in safety. The ma^acre of St. Bartholomew — that foul national blot of France, and anomaly of modern history -burst out with the suddenness of a tornado, an 1, amidst the ruin that followed, no Protestant could be assured of his life for a single hour. Adamson had his full share of the danger, and narrowly escaped by finding shelter in a lowly hostelry, the master of which was after- wards flung from the top of his own house, and killed on the pavement below, for having given shelter to heretics. While immured in this dreary confinement for seven months, and which he fitly termed his sepulchre, Adamson consoled himself with Latin poetry upon themes suited to his con- dition; one attempt of this nature being the tragedy of Herod, and the other a version of the book of Job. As soon as he was able to emerge, one of the first uses which he made of his liberty was to return home and resume those ministerial labours which he had good cause to regret he ever had abandoned. This return was at a critical period; for the arch- bishopric of St. Andrews was at that time vacant, and, notwithstanding the Presbyterian doctrine of parity, which had been laid down as a fundamental principle of the Scottish church, the chief prelatic offices were still continued, through the overbearing influence of those nobles who now directed the government. But it was from no love of Episcopacy in the abstract that these magnates continued such charges, obnoxious though they were to the church and the people at large, but that they might derive from them a profitable revenue as lay proprietors of the livings. In this way the Earl of Morton had acquired a claim to the revenues of the archbishopric of St. Andrews, and only needed some ecclesiastic who could wear the title, and discharge its duties, for a small percentage of the benefice. It was a degrading position for a churchman, and yet there were too many willing to occupy it, either from love of the empty name, or an ambitious hope of converting it into a substantial reality. Among these aspirants for the primacy of Scotland, Patrick Adamson was suspected to be one; and it was thought that he hoped to succeed through the influence of his patron, M'Gill of Rankeillor. These surmises his subsequent conduct too well justified. But Morton had already made his election in favour of John Douglas, who was inducted into the office, notwithstanding the earnest remonstrances of John Knox. The conduct of Adamson on this occasion was long after remembered. The week after the induction, and when the greatest concourse of people was expected, he ascended the pulpit and delivered a vehement and sarcastic sermon against the episcopal office as then exercised in Scotland. "There are three sorts of bishops," he said; "my lord bishop, my lord's bishop, and the Lord's bishop. My lord bishop was in the Papistry; my lord's bishop is now, when my lord gets the bene- fice and the bishop serves for nothing but to make his title sure; and the Lord's bishop is the true minister of the gospel." He saw that, tor the present at least, lie could not be primate of St. Andrews, and therefore turned his attention t 1 the more humble offices of the church. And there. indeed, whatever could satisfy the wishes of a simple presbyter was within his reach; for lie was 1. in general esteem among his brethren, 1 ut highb and justly valued for his scholarship, and his cate- chism of Calvin in Latin heroic verse, which lie had written in France, and was about ;■> pi lish :\ Scotland with the approbation of the General As- sembly. He now announced his willingness ' sume the duties of the mini-try; and the t \\\\ > I Paisley became his sphere of duty, accordii ,; t tin. j appointment of the Assembly. In :h -. he was subsequently appointed c mnr.s~:o Galloway, an office which resemble 1 that a- to it- duties, but divt «ted of all its - and emolument. Some of the best men 1 : the kirk had iv-'.-i£,-.,'/uen <'■■.■. on., v ; as c ce ■■ ■ i6 PATRICK ADAMSON. and discharged its duties with diligence, but such was not the c.ise with Patrick Adamson; and when his remissness as a commissioner was complained of to the General Assembly, he acknowledged the justice of the accusation, but pleaded in excuse that no stipend was attached to the office. Of the labours of Adamson while minister of Paisley no record has been preserved. His time there, ' however, was brief, as a new sphere was opened to his ambition. The great subject of anxiety at this period in the church was the con- struction of the Book of Policy, otherwise called the Second Boo': of Discipline, and procuring its ratifi- cation by the government; but the chief obstacle in the way was the Marl of Morton, now regent, whose principal aim, besides enriching himself with the ecclesiastical revenues, was to bring the two churches of England and Scotland into as close a conformity as possible, in order to facilitate the future union of the two kingdoms under the reign of his young master, James VI. Here it is that we find Adamson busy. He became an active negotiator for the Book of Policy, and while he managed to secure the confi- dence of the leading men in the church, he ingrati- ated himself into the favour of the regent; so that when the latter chose him for his chaplain, the brethren seem to have hoped that the accomplish- ment of their purpose would be facilitated by having such an advocate at court. But never were ecclesi- astics mire thoroughly disappointed in their hopes from such a quarter. The archbishopric of St. An- drew, had again become vacant, and Morton nomin- ated Adamson to the see, who, on receiving the ap- pointment, began even already to show that he would hold it independently of the authority of the church by refusing to submit to the usual trial and examina- tion of the Assembly. While chaplain to the regent, he had been wont, while preaching and giving his gh.i-.-e> upon texts of Scripture, to say, "The prophet would mean this" — a phrase so usual with him on such occasions that his hearers could not help noticing it. At length, when he became primate of Scotland, Captain Montgomery, one of the regent's officers, exclaimed, with dry humour, "I never knew what the prophet meant till now!'' As Adamson's enter- ing into the archbishopric was such an act of con- travention to the authority of the church, the As- sembly, at one of its meetings in 1577, resolved to institute proceedings against the offender. But even this formidable danger he was able to avert for the time with his wonted craft. He professed the Utm 1st humility, and offered to lay down hi- office at the feet of the Assembly, and be ordered at their pleasure, but represented how desirable it would be t) postpone all such proceedings until the Book of I'oL y had !>ecn finished, and ratified by the regent. The matter was thus reduced to a mere epiestion of lime, and his suggestion prevailed. The great subject now at issue wa> the />'<><'/■ of 1 I ia •■ •'■' Poll v the Magna Charta of the Church of Scotland upon the passing of which its rights and liberties as a national church were at stake. It was, as might have been expected, completely presbytcrian in its discipline, and subversive of that episcopal rule which the court was labouring to establish. Among these enactments it was decreed that no bishop should be designated by his title, bit his own name, a- a brother, seeing he belonged to a church that has but one Lord, even Christ that 110 bishops should thenceforth be appointed in it; and that no minister shmld accept the office on pain "I deprivation. Against such conclusions it i, nol wonderful that Adamson demurred. But as himself and th- Bishop of Aberdeen constituted the entire minority in the Assembly, his opposition went no further than to procrastinate any final conclusion. But the Policy was at length concluded, and ready to be presented to the government, and for this Adamson had reserved his master-stroke. The book was to be subscribed by every member individually, but this form the archbishop opposed. "Nay," he said, "we have an honest man, our clerk, to sub- scribe for all; and it would derogate from his faithful- ness and estimation if we should all severally sub- scribe." The brethren assented to the proposal, although some of them seem to have entertained a lurking suspicion that all was not right; so that Mr. Andrew Hay, minister of Renfrew, could not help exclaiming, "Well, if any man comes against this, or denies it hereafter, he is not honest." He stepped up to Adamson, and said to him in the presence of three or four by-standers, "There is my hand, Mr. Patrick; if you come against this hereafter, consent- ing now so thoroughly to it, I will call you a knave, were it never so publicly." The Book of Policy was to be presented to the Lords of Articles for ratifica- tion on the part of the government; and strangely enough, Adamson was commissioned to present it. Morton and the lords asked him if he had given his assent to these enactments, to which he answered that he had not, and that he had refused to subscribe to them. Here was a loophole of escape for the council: the Archbishop of St. Andrews had with- held his assent, and they could do no less than follow the example. The book was rejected, and the ministers were left to divine the cause of the refusal. But Andrew Hay, on inquiring of several members of council, who told him the particulars, and laid the whole blame of the refusal on Adamson, soon saw that he had a pledge to redeem; and on the arch- bishop passing by at that instant, he griped him by the hand, looked him angrily in the face, and ex- claimed, in presence of the others, "O knave, knave, I will crown thee the knave of all knaves!" It is enough to add here, that the Book of Policy, after having been delayed three years longer, was in 1 58 1 thoroughly ratified and ordained in every point, and ordered to be registered in the books of the Assembly. As for Adamson, we find him employed during this interval in preaching in St. Andrews, lecturing in the college, and attending the meetings of the (ieneral Assembly, but with no greater authority than that of the ordinary brethren. But symptoms even already had shown that the court favour upon which he was willing to build was but a sandy foundation, for his powerful patron, the Earl of Morton, had been brought to the block. He pre- pared himself, therefore, to recognize the authority of the kirk in the doctrine of bishops, to which he had been opposed, and even gave his subscription to the articles of the />'<•<>/• of Policy, which he had hitherto withheld. This was in St. Andrews, before the celebrated Andrew Melville and a party of his friends who were assembled with him. But all this was insufficient: he must also secure the favour of the party in power, whatever for the time it might be; and for this purpose he passed over to Edinburgh, and took his seat in the Convention of Estates. Here, however, his reception was so little to his liking, that he found he must side wholly with the kirk. He therefore addressed himself to the ministers ot Edinburgh with professions which his subsequent conduct showed to be downright hypocrisy. He told them that he had come over to the court in the spirit of Balaam, on purpose to curse the kirk and do evil; but that God had so wrought with him, that his heart was wholly changed, so that he had advocated and voted in the church's behalf — PATRICK ADAMSON*. *7 and that henceforth he would show further and further fruits of his conversion and good meaning. This self- abasing comparison of himself to Balaam must have staggered the unfavourable suspicions of the most sceptical; at all events, it did so with the apostolic John Durie, who rejoiced over the primate's conver- sion, and wrote a flattering account of it to James Melville. The latter, in consequence, visited Adam- son upon his return, and told him the tidings he had received, for which he heartily thanked God, and offered the archbishop the right hand of Christian fellowship. The other, still continuing his penitent grimace, described the change that had passed upon him at great length, which he attributed to the work- ing of the Spirit within him. Perhaps he overacted his part, for Melville only observed in reply, "Well, that Spirit is an upright, holy, and constant Spirit, and will more and more manifest itself in effects; but it is a fearful thing to lie against him!" It was indeed full time for the Archbishop of St. Andrews not only to recover his lost credit with the kirk, but the community at large. He was generally accused of the vices of intemperance and gluttony; he was noted as an unfaithful paymaster, so that he stood upon the score of most of the shopkeepers in the town; and what was still worse, he was accused of consorting with witches, and availing himself of their unlawful power! We of the nineteenth century can laugh at such a charge, and imagine it sufficient not only to disprove itself, but weaken all the other charges brought against him. But in the sixteenth century it was no such laughing matter; for there were not only silly women in abundance to proclaim themselves witches, but wise men to believe them. Even the pulpits of England as well as Scotland re- sounded with sermons against witchcraft; and the learned and wise Bishop Jewel, while preaching be- fore Elizabeth, assured her majesty that the many people who were dying daily, in spite of all the aid of leechcraft, were thus brought to their end by spells and incantations. While this was the prevalent be- lief, a person having recourse to such agency was wilfully and deliberately seeking help from the devil, and seeking it where he thought it could best be found. Now Adamson, among his other offences, had fallen into this predicament. He was afflicted with a painful disease, which he called a "fcedity;" and being unable to obtain relief from the regular practitioners, he had recourse to the witches of Fife, and among others, to a notable woman, who pre- tended to have learned the art of healing from a physician who had appeared to her after he was dead and buried ! This wretched creature, on being ap- prehended and convicted of sorcery, or what she meant to be such, was sentenced to suffer death, as she would have been in any other country of Iuirope, and was given in charge to the archbishop for exe- cution. But the woman made her escape, and this, it was supposed, she did through Adamson's con- nivance. After this statement, it needs scarcely be wondered at that foremost in the accusations both from the pulpit and in church-courts, the crime of seeking aid from Satan should have been specially urged again>t him. The man who will attempt "to cail spirits from the vasty deep," incurs the guilt of sorcery whether they come or not. While such was the evil plight to which the arch- bishop was reduced, and out of which he was trying to struggle as he hot could, the condition of public affairs was scarcely more promising for his interests. In the Assembly held in April, 15S2, he had seen Robert Montgomery, Archbishop of Glasgow, who was his constant ally in every episcopal movement, arraigned at their bar, reduced to tire most humbling vol. I. confessions, and dismissed with the fear of deposition hanging over him. In the same year, the Raid of Ruthven had occurred, by which the royal power was coerced, and presbytery established in greater authority than ever. Dismayed by these ominous symptoms, Adamson withdrew from public notice to his castle of St. Andrews, where he kept himself "like a tod in his hole," giving out that his painful "fcedity" was the cause of his retirement. But at length the sky began to brighten, and the primate to venture forth after a whole year of concealment. The king emancipated himself from his nobles of the Raid, and came to St. Andrews, upon which the archbishop, flinging off his sickness like a worn-out cloak, resumed his abandoned pulpit with royalty for an auditor, and preached such sermons as were well fitted to ingratiate himself into the favour of the young sovereign. They were furious declamations against the lords of the Raid, against the ministers of the kirk by whom they had been countenanced, and against all their proceedings by which the head- long will of James had been reduced within whole- some limits; and these, too, were delivered in such fashion, as, we are informed by James Melville, " that he who often professed from the pulpit before that he had not the spirit of application, got the gift of application by inspiration of such a spirit as never spoke in the Scriptures of God." Among the other effects of the Raid of Ruthven, was the 1 anishment of the king's unworthy favourites, the Earl of Arran and the Duke of Lennox, the former from the royal presence, and the latter from the country; and Len- nox took his exile so much to heart, that he died soon after he arrived in France, while James con- tinued to bewail his loss. Here, then, was a favour- able theme for the archbishop. The chief offence alleged against Lennox was, that though outwardly a Protestant, he had not only lived, but even died, a Papist; and from this stigma it was Adamson's main effort to clear the memory of the departed. He there- fore boldly asserted, in his sermon, that Lennox had died a good Protestant, and in proof of this he ex- hibited in the pulpit a scroll, which he called the duke's testament. It happened unluckily for the preacher, however, that an honest merchant woman, who sat near the pulpit, looked narrowly at this important document, and saw with astonishment that it was an account of her own, which she had sent to the archbishop for a debt of some four or five years' standing, but which, like other reckonings of the kind, he had left unpaid ! Adamson's loyalty was soon rewarded, and in a way that best accorded with his wishes. He was to be employed as ambassador or envoy from the king to the court of London. What was the ostensible object of his mission does not appear; but its real purport was, the suppression of Presbyterianism in Scotland, and the establishment of such a firm of Episcopacy in its stead as might make the un the two countries more complete, when James should become king of both. But in such an office the messenger behoved to go warily to work, as Eliza- beth was apt to take fire at every movement that pointed to a succession in her throne. Another serious difficulty interposed in the very thresh the archbishop's departure. He had already been charged before the presbytery of St. Andrews, as corrupt both in life and doctrine: the trial wa> re- moved to the svnod, and was finally remitti General Assembly, at whose bar he must justify ! ::.- self, or be deposed for non-appearance; an '. he :.v.> felt himself between the horns if a dilemma, in which his compearance or absence might he If, however, he could only get the trial ! PATRICK ADAMSON. he had accomplished his mission, he might then brave it, or quash it with impunity. He therefore called sickness to his aid, anil pretended that he was going to the wells of Spa, in Germany, for the re- covery of his health; and this was nothing more than reasonable, even though he should take London by the way. Forth therefore he went, unhindered and unsuspected; and, if there is any truth in The Legend of the I.ymmar's Lift, a satirical poem written by Robert Semple, the archbishop's conduct during this embassy was anything but creditable to his employers. His chief aim, indeed, seems to have been to replenish his extenuated purse; and, provided this was accomplished, he was not scrupulous about the means. Even horses, books, and gowns came into his permanent possession under the name of loans. His approach to the palace for his first, and, as it turned out, his last audience, was equally un- seemly, for he used the hallowed wall of the palace of the virgin queen with as little fastidiousness as if it had iK-en the dingy habitation of some Scottish baron iii one of the closes of the Canongate, so that a porter, who espied him from the gate, rushed out and rebuked his indecorum with a cudgel. But, amidst all his Scapin-Iike tricks in the English metropolis, from which he seems to have derived for the time a comfortable revenue, Adamson was not unmindful of the real object of his journey, which he pursued with a diligence worthy of a better cause. He endeavoured to enlist the prejudices of the queen against the ministers of Scotland, and such of the nobility as favoured them; he consulted with the bishops upon the best means of conforming the Scottish to the English church; and, aware of the puqwse of his own court to banish or silence the tn-^t of the clergy, he wished them to send learned and able ministers to supply the pulpits of those who were to be displaced. But, not content with this, he endeavoured to bring the Kirk of Scotland into discredit with the foreign reformed churches of France, Geneva, and Zurich, by sending to them a list of garbled or distorted passages as propositions extracted from the Scottish Confession, and craving their opinion as to their soundness. It was a crafty device, and might have been attended with much mischief, had it not been that an antidote to the bane was at this time in England, in the person of Mr. Andrew Melville, a more accomplished scholar, as well as a more able and eloquent writer, than Adamson himself, lie drew up a true statement of propounded, and sent them to the for- hurches, by which the archbishop's design was frustrate!. But the work of mere ecclesiastical dip- lomacy does not seem to have been sufficient for the - Adamson, so that he was suspected of in- triguing with the French and Spanish ambassadors, and connecting himself with the- plot of Throckmor- ton, til if which was the liberation of Marv and the restoration of Popery. It was a strange I of plots and conspiracies, where Protestant, Papist, and Puritan, priest and layman, foreigner and Knglishman, were often mingled together a-, in a -v thing and bubbling cauldron, for the concoction of a charm by which a cure for every public evil was to li- effected. It was immediately on the detection of this Throckmorton conspiracy, and the apprehen- sion of its author, that the archbishop secretly with- drew from England and returned home, after having been employed fully six months in these and other such devices in London. While Adamson had thus been occupied in Eng- land, the government at home had not been idle; and the worthless Earl of Arran, who, since the suppression of the Raid of Ruthven, had recovered the royal favour, proceeded to put his plan in execu- tion of silencing, imprisoning, and banishing the best and most distinguished of the Scottish clergy. It was thus that the flocks were to be brought to helplessness, and a new order of shepherds intro- duced. The list of the persecuted was a large one; but among the most illustrious of these were some of the most distinguished lights of the Scottish re- formation, such as Andrew Melville, John Davidson, Walter Balcanquhal, and James Lawson. Of these we can only particularize the last, as his closing scene was but too intimately connected with the history of Patrick Adamson. Lawson had been the friend and fellow-labourer of Knox, whom he suc- ceeded as minister of Edinburgh; and in this im- portant charge, while he was closely connected with all the principal ecclesiastical movements of the period, he was distinguished by his gentleness, self- denial, and piety. But these were the very qualities that now marked him out as a victim; and the im- perious Arran did not hesitate to threaten that, though his head were as big as a haystack, he would make it fly from his shoulders. Lawson knew that his life was aimed at, and, like several of his brethren thus circumstanced, he fled to England, and took up his residence at London, in one of the lanes leading from Cheapside. But the uncongenial cli- mate, and, above all, the defection of many of his flock during his absence, so heavily afflicted him, that he fell into a disease, of which he died in little more than a month. Upon his death-bed, the English who visited him were edified with his pious remarks, which they carefully treasured up for their families and acquaintances; and his last prayers were for mercy in behalf of those who would neither enter the king- dom of God themselves, nor suffer others to enter therein. And will it be believed that Patrick Adam- son, the man for whom in especial he had so prayed, conceived the idea of perverting such a death-bed to his own political purposes? But so it was. He sat down with the pen of a ready writer, and composed an elaborate testament in Lawson's name, in which the dying man was made to abjure all his Presbyter- ian principles, to grieve over them as deadly sins, to recommend the government of the church by bishops, and enjoin implicit obedience to the king's authoritv. It was indeed a bold exploit in literary forgery; but. at this period and afterwards, when the pen outran the activity of the press, and communities were so separated, it was easy to make a fraud of this kind, where the locality was transferred to London, to pass current in the streets of Edinburgh. There is no doubt that thus the archbishop had calculated; but, like many very cunning people, he in this instance- betrayed himself by his over-scrupulous dexteritv. Thus, not content with making Lawson recant all the principles of his well-spent life with a hurry that was inconceivable, and laud episcopal rule with an unction and earnestness which the Archbishop of Canterbury himself could not have surpassed, he also made him, in exhorting his old co-presbyters, to vent a malignity of sentiment, and drolling bitterness of satire, such a^, whether living or dying, Lawson could not and would not have used. But it fortun- ately happened that proof still stronger than inferen- tial evidence was at hand, to convict this impudent forgery; for Lawson himself had written his last testament, which was witnessed with the honoured names of Andrew Melville, James Carmichael, John Davidson, and Walter Balcanquhal. After his return from England, Adamson did not lie idle; he zealously joined the king and Arran in their persecution of the best adherents of the kirk, under which, not only the principal ministers, but PATRICK ADAMSOX. n also the chief of the nobility, were fugitives in Eng- land. His pen also was soon in requisition for a more dignified work, at least, than that of blacken- ing the memory of a departed brother; it was to advocate, defend, and justify certain obnoxious mea- sures of James and his favourite, that had passed through the parliament in 1584, and were generally unpopular, both on account of their anti-presbyterian spirit in religion and their despotic tendencies in civil rule. This task Adamson accomplished, and with such plausibility and ingenuity, that his apology was not only in high favour with the king, but widely popular in England, so that it was inserted in the appendix of Holinshed's History as a true picture of the religious state of Scotland. But this was not his only reward. Although he was still a suspended presbyter, with his trial by the General Assembly hanging over him, and accounted a very Julian the Apostate by his former brethren, yet he was now to be confirmed in his primacy, with all the high rights and immunities that could be comprised within the office. This was announced by a royal letter, under the great seal, and, as such, was indignantly termed by the ministers the King's bull, "giving and grant- ing to his well-beloved clerk and orator, Patrick, Archbishop of St. Andrews, power, authority, and jurisdiction to exercise the same archbishopric by himself, his commissioners, and deputies, in all matters ecclesiastical, within the diocese of St. An- drews, and sheriffdoms which have been heretofore annexed thereto." In this way he would be able to sit as presiding moderator in that Assembly where he should have stood as a culprit, and to silence the charges which he could not answer. But this, his culminating point, was also that of his downfal. The banished lords, who had withdrawn themselves to England, now took counsel upon the oppressed state of their country, and resolved to redress it after the old Scottish fashion. They therefore approached the border, where they could communicate with their allies, and appoint musters of their retainers; and at length, all being in readiness, Angus, Mar, Glammis, and the Hamiltons entered Scotland, and rapidly marched to Stirling, at the head of eight thousand armed men, to reason with their misguided sovereign. He soon found himself, like many of his ancestors, the pupil of force and necessity, and was compelled to yield to their stern remonstrances; while Arran was again, and for the last time, ban- ir-hed into that obscurity from which he should never have been summoned. The return of the exiled lords, and the banish- ment of Arran from court, produced a breathing in- terval to the kirk; and the ministers who had been dispersed, warded, or silenced, were restored to lib- erty and their charges. It was now time, therefore, to redress the evils that had been inflicted upon the church, and these too by members of its own body, during the last two years of trial, if its polity and discipline were to be something more than a name. It was a stern duty, as Adamson was soon to feel. He had laboured for the eversion of the kirk, and the persecution of its ministers, under an unconstitu- tional authority against which he had protested and subscribed; and for all this he must answer before the court to which the a-size of such delinquencies pertained. The synod of St. Andrews, which had been closed during the persecution, was to be re- opened; and their first work was to be the trial of their own archbishop, whom their laws recognized as a simple presbyter, and nothing more. This solemn meeting was therefore convoked in April, 15S6, to winch a great concourse assembled; and thither also came the archbishop, "with a great pontificality and big countenance," for he boasted that he was in his own city, and possessed of the king's favour, and therefore needed to fear no one. He also placed himself close by the preacher, who was Mr. James Melville, as if determined to outbrave the whole assembly. The discourse was a vindica- tion of the polity of the church, and a rehearsal of the wrongs it had suffered; and then, "coining in particular," says Melville himself, "to our own Kirk of Scotland, I turned to the bishop, sitting at my elbow, and directing my speech to him personally, I recounted to him, shortly, his life, actions, and proceedings against the kirk, taking the assembly there to witness, and his own conscience before God, if he was not an evident proof and example of that doctrine; whom, being a minister of the kirk, the dragon had so stung with the poison and venom of avarice and ambition, that, swelling exorbitantly out of measure, threatened the wreck and destruction of the whole body, unless he were timeously and with courage cut off." To this formidable appeal the archbishop endeavoured to answer, but it was onlv with frivolous objections and threats of the kind's displeasure, while his courage was so utterly gone that he could scarcely sit, far less stand on his feet. But the business commenced, the process was entered into, and Adamson left the meeting. He was in- vited to return, but he sent for answer that the synod was no judge to him, but he to it. He not only- persisted in refusing to appear, but sent such answers to the charges against him as only aggravated the offence. Nothing remained but to inflict upon him the final sentence of the church, which was done accordingly. The doom so long suspended had thus fallen at last; but still the primate would not yield. He ral- lied himself for a desperate counter-movement, and penned, by his own sole authority, a sentence of excommunication against the two Melvillesand some of his principal accusers in the synod, which he sent by a boy, accompanied by two of his jackmen; but when this most informal missive was read in the church, the audience were as little moved as if he had excommunicated the stones of the building. He also sent a complaint against these proceedings to the king, with an appeal from the authority of the synod, to his majesty, the estates, and the privy- council. On the arrival of Sabbath, he prepared for a decisive effort, by preaching in the church in spite of the sentence. But just when he was about to ascend the pulpit, a mischievous rumour reached his ear, that several gentlemen and citizens had assembled in the new college, to take him out of the pulpit, and hang him; ami, terrified at the report. he not only called his friends and jackmen to the rescue, but fled from the church, and took refuge in the steeple. And yet the whole cause of the stir was nothing more than the assembling of a lew gentlemen and citizens in the new college, to attend the preaching of Andrew Melville, instead of that of an excommunicated man ! The archbishop s friends followed him to the steeple, to assure him safety; but so desperate was his fear, that they u! i scarcely drag him out by force. \\ hile he was halt- led, half-carried down the High Street, ai the north gate towards his castle, an unl hare, terrified at the coming din. suddenly - up, and tied before them. liven this inci impart some gravity to the scene. It was belief at that time in Scotland that a wit pursued, usually assumed the form < f a hare, more effectually to insure her escape; an i th ■ .-■ ■ ■ arance of the poor animal at such a time ai :-..v:e the people declare that it was :.- ether than the PATRICK ADAMSOX. prelate's witch, abandoning her master, to make good her own safety. We have already stated that Adamson appealed against the sentence of excommunication, to the authority of the king. In this singular appeal, he declaimed with great learning and marvellous plausi- bility about the right of royalty to interpose against ecclesiastical as well as civil tyranny; and as he had already made out, as he thought, his own case to he one of undue ecclesiastical oppression on the part of his enemies, the conclusion was plain, that the king could lawfully release him from the spiritual sentence. He wound up his reasoning with the following supposition, to which, he well knew, fames would not be insensible: "beseeching your majesty to consider and weigh with your highness' self, nobility, and council, how dangerous a thing it is to put such a sword in such men's hands, or to suffer them to usurp further than their duty; whereby it may come to pass, that as rashly and unorderly they have pretendedly excommunicated the fust man r majesty's parliament (albeit unworthy), so there rests nothing of their next attempt to do the same to your majesty's self.'' The king's pride was roused at such a thought, and he arrogantly required the ministers to rescind their sentence, threatening them with the deprivation of their rights and stipends in the event of a refusal. The General My met in May the same year, when these conditions were proposed, and the members were in sore strait how to act, for most of the restored lords, after l>eing replaced in their possessions, had left the church to shift for itself. At length a medium course was adopted by the Assembly, and that, too, only by a small majority. It was, that the arch- p "should be holden and repute in the same ca-se and condition that he was in before the holding of the synod of St. Andrews, without prejudice, decerning, or judging anything of the proceedings, process, or sentence of the same synod." It was a strange decision, by which Adamson was allowed to teach, preach, and exercise his clerical functions, excommunicated though he still was; while the pulpits, by royal decree, were not only to be patent to his entrance, but the students of St. Andrews immanded to attend his lectures in the old college as heretofore. This violence, as might be ted, produced counter-violence, so that libels were thrown not only into the archbishop's chamber, but the pulpits in which he officiated, threatening him with death for his intrusion. And as if all this ha 1 not been enough, he added to his further dis- >ns, by inability to pay his debts, in conse- quence of which he was, according to the practice of '.■> law, denounced a rebel, and put to the horn. This case was brought before the Assembly of June, 15S7, because many people had demurred to attend his ministrations while he laboured under such degrading disabilities. The Assembly, however, decided that these were of a civil rather than an ecclesiastical character, and referred them to the king r»ent. In the very same year and month, while Adamson was in this miserable plight -an excommunicated minister and an outlawed prelate- the first man in the 'parliament, and yet a denounced rebel because he could not pay his debts — a gleam of royal sunshine fell upon him, which was destined to be the last. Tile celebrated I >-.i Bartes vi.dtcd Scotland, and James was desirous that the learned poet should see- the two most accomplished scholars in Scotland- Andrew Melville and Patrick Adamson. To St. Andrews, accordingly, the royal cortege repaired ; and the firct not.ee which Melville had of the visit was from the king himself, who bluntly told him that he had come with the illustrious foreigner, to have a lesson from him in his class-room. Melville would have excused himself, on the plea that he had already delivered his ordinary lecture in the forenoon. "That is all one," said the king; "I must have a lesson, and be you here within an hour for that effect." In less than an hour the professor was in readiness, and commenced such a lecture, as made the king wish himself once more among the deer in Falkland. It was an eloquent extemporaneous oration, in which he vindicated Christ's right of sovereignty over his own church, and refuted and exposed the acts of parliament that had been lately enacted subversive of the kirk's authority. James went home in no very pleasant mood, and remained in a fume the whole evening. On the next morning it was Adam- son's turn, who was not likely to trespass in the same fashion. During the interval, he had prepared a "tightened-up abridgment" of his previous year's lectures, in which he attempted to vindicate the royal supremacy in ecclesiastical affairs, and justify the steps that had been taken for that purpose. Andrew Melville, who attended as an auditor, took notes of the archbishop's arguments; and without further study, caused the college bell to be rung after a short interval, to announce a new lecture. The king, who had not yet digested the lesson of yesterday, sent a warning to Melville to be moderate, otherwise he would discharge him; to which the other replied, that his majesty's ear had already been abused by Adamson's errors and untruths, which he could not allow to pass unquestioned, unless his breath were stopped by death itself — but that still, he should be careful to behave himself most moderately and reverendly to his majesty in all respects. The king was satisfied with this assur- ance, and repaired to the class-room, where Adam- son was also in attendance; and he craved and ob- tained the royal permission to reply, should any- thing be alleged against his doctrine. The two strong champions were now standing front to front in the lists — and never had king of Scotland so delighted in the hurtling together of man and horse, and the shivering of spears, as did James in the pro- spect of an intellectual tournament, where dexterous syllogisms and home-thrust arguments were the only blows in circulation. Hut here Melville changed his tactics, in a way that would have puzzled the most experienced master of fence. lie had no longer a controversy with Episcopacy, but with Popery, the great common enemy of Protestantism at large; and thus secure of the sympathy of his audience, he ex- tracted from the works of the Popish authors the strongest arguments they had adduced in defence of their system, for the purpose of refuting them. Put the^e arguments were the very same which Adamson had used in the forenoon, in favour of the spiritual government of kings and bishops! There, however, they stood among the ranks of the uncircumcised; and as such, they were attacked with an amount of Scripture and learning, and a force and fervour of eloquence, as completely swept them off the field. It was now the archbishop's turn to bestir himself, but he was dumb— dumb as the bench he sat upon. At last, the king advanced to the rescue; and after making several logical distitigitos, upon which he harangued for some time, he ended by commanding the students to reverence and obey his archbishop. When James departed, I)u Partes stayed behind a whole hour, conversing with Andrew Melville, after which he mounted his horse, and rejoined his majesty. '1 he king wished to know the opinion of the foreigner upon the two men they had heard; to PATRICK ADAMSOX SIR ANDREW AGXEW. which Du Bartes replied, that they were both learned men, but that the prelate's lectures were conned and prepared, while Melville had a great and ready store of all kinds of learning within him; and that his spirit and courage were far above the other. In this correct estimate James completely agreed. From this period the life of Adamson was but a brief and mournful record. After his late discom- fiture, he became weary of teaching in the college, and seems to have remitted it in a great measure to his successful rival. The ministrations of the pulpit could not console him, as the audiences either avoided him as an excommunicated man, or tarried and listened as to the voice of an intruder. Fresh com- plaints were made against him in the church courts, of having collated unworthy persons to benefices within his diocese. And, to crown all, he finally lost the favour and protection of the king, whom he had served only too well, but who was now weary of an archbishop buried under debt and disgrace, and whose season of working seemed well nigh over. Broken in health as well as in spirit, it might have been thought that James would at least have suffered such a faithful servant to depart in peace; but as if his own ungrateful hand, and no other, ought to deal the final blow, he alienated from him whatever of the revenues of his diocese he was still permitted to enjoy, and bestowed them upon the young Duke of Lennox, the son of his early favourite. In 1591, Adamson was dying a heart-broken man, and unable to procure for himself and his family even the common necessaries of life. But besides hollow friends, he had generous enemies, and these last came forward in the hour of his extremity. Such especially were the two Melvilles, whom he had persecuted in the season of his ascendency, but who now supported him for several months at their own expense. At last, he was reduced to such miserable shifts, that he entreated a charitable collection to be made for him among the brethren in the town of St. Andrews; and as an inducement, he offered to repair to the pulpit, and there make open confession of his offences. This, indeed, his sickness prevented him from accomplishing; but he rendered an equivalent, in a distinct "Recantation," which he subscribed, and sent to the synod of St. Andrews. Besides thus showing how little he had cared for Episcopacy, and how much he had used it for his own aggrandize- ment, he evinced the force of his early and long- concealed convictions in favour of Presbyterianism, by the remorse which he now felt at the thought of his excommunication, and his earnestness to be absolved from the sentence; and to this effect he sent a supplication to the presbytery of St. Andrews. They deputed two of the brethren, one of whom was James Melville, to examine him, and, if they judged lit, to release him. As soon as the dying man saw Melville, he rose up in bed, plucked the night-cap from his head, and exclaimed, "Forgive, forgive me, f>r Cud's sake, good Mr. Tamest for I have offended and done wrong to you many ways!" Melville spoke to him of his sin against Christ' and his church, exhorted him to repentance, with the assurance of mercy from God if" he repented, and forgave him with all his heart. His excommunica- tion was then spoken of, and he was asked if he acknowledged its lawfulness. To this his emphatic reply, which he repeated again and again, was, "Loose me, for Christ's sake!" His state and petition were fully reported to the presbyterv, and he was forthwith absolved. Even yet, as appears from his " Recantation," he had hoped to struggle through this his last illness; and he professed in it his earnest desire and purpose to commence a better life, and repair the evils he had inflicted upon religion and the church. But his new-born sincerity was not to be thus tried, and he died in the lowest depths of his humiliation and repentance. His character is thus strongly and briefly summed up by James Melville, who knew him well, and witnessed his career from its height to its mournful termina- tion: — "This man had many great gifts, but espe- cially excelled in the tongue and pen; and yet, for abusing of the same against Christ, all use of both the one and the other was taken from him, when fie was in greatest misery and had most need of them. In the latter end of his life, his nearest friends were no comfort to him, and his supposed greatest enemies, to whom indeed he offered greatest occasion of enmity, were his only friends, and recompensed good for evil, especially my uncle Andrew, but found small tokens of any spiritual comfort in him, which chiefly he would have wished to have seen at his end. Thus God delivered his kirk of a most dangerous enemy, who, if he had been endowed with a common civil piece of honesty in his dealing and conversation, he had more means to have wrought mischief in a kirk or country, than any I have known or heard of in our island." As will be surmised from the foregoing account, Patrick Adamson was both an able and a voluminous writer; but most of his productions were merely written for the day, and have passed away with the occasions in which they originated. Some of them he never purposed to acknowledge, while others remained unpublished in manuscript. Most of these he confessed and regretted in his "Recantation," declaring, that if it should please God to restore his health, he would change his style, "as Cajetar.us did at the Council of Trent." His principal writings were collected and published, in one quarto volume, by Thomas Volusenus (Wilson) in 1619; but not- withstanding their undoubted excellence, it may be questioned if they are now at all known beyond the library of the antiquary. It appears that on be- coming minister of Paisley, Adamson married the daughter of a lawyer, who survived him, and by whom he had a family; but all record of them has passed away, so that he may be said to have been the last, as he was the first, of his race. The precise date of his death has not been mentioned; but it was in the latter part of the year 1 591. Such was the career and end of the great antagonist and rival of Andrew Melville. AGNEW, Sir Andrew, of Lochnaw, Br.rt., Lieutenant-General. The family of Agnew lays claim, and probably with justice, to a more illustrious antiquity than most of our Scottish noble houses. The Agnews entered Scotland in the reign of David II., where they acquired the lands of Lochnaw, and were invested with the offices of heritable con- stables and sheriffs of Wigtonshire. The subject of the present memoir, and fifth baronet of Lochnaw, was bom in 16S7. and was the eldest son of a family of twenty-one children. 'I his was a truly patriarchal number; but he lived aim -". to equal it, being himself ultimately the father of seventeen sons and daughters by one m ther, daughter of Agnew of Creoch. Sir Andrew em- braced the military profession at an early pei many of his family had done, and was an r in the great Marlborough campaigns, as we find h;m a cornet in the second regiment <^' drag< 1 r.s or S Greys at the battle of Ramilies, when he had just reached his nineteenth year. It was in this ca] and under such training, that 1 esides 1 eing a -kilful and successful officer, he became distinguished 1 y SIR ANDREW AGNEW. those deeds of personal daring, as well as eccentric peculiarities of manner, that long made him a favourite in the fireside legends of the Scottish peasantry. Among these, we are told, that on one occasion having been appointed to superintend the interment of the slain after one of the continental engagements, his orderly came to him in great per- plexity, saying, "Sir, there is a heap of fellows lying yonder, who say they are only wounded, and won't consent to be buried like the rest: what shall \ do?" '•bun.- them at once," cried Sir Andrew, "for if you take their own word for it, they won't be dead tor a hundred years to come!" The man, who understood nothing beyond the word of com- mand, made his military salaam and went off with full purpose to execute the order to the letter, when he was checked by a counter-order from his superior, who perhaps little thought that his joke would have been carried so far. On another occasion, when an engagement was about to commence, he pointed to the enemy, and thus briefly and pithily addressed his soldiers: "Weel, lads, ye see these loons on the hill there: if ye dinna kill them, they'll kill you." When the battle of Dettingen took place, which occurred in 1 743, where George II. commanded the British troops in person. Sir Andrew Agnew held the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and was appointed to keep a pass at the outskirts of the British army, through which an attack of the French was appre- hended. On this post of danger the knight of Lochnaw stationed himself with his regiment of Scots Fusileers as coolly as if he hail been upon the boundary of one of his own farms in Wigtonshire. One day, while at dinner, he was informed that there were symptoms of a coming attack — that the enemy's cavalry were mustering at no great distance. "The loons !" cried Sir Andrew indignantly; "surely they will never hae the impudence to attack the Scots Fusileers!" and forthwith ordered his men to finish their dinner quietly, assuring them that they would fight all the better for it. He continued eating and encouraging his officers to follow his example, until the enemy were so nigh, that a shot struck from his hand a bone which he was in the act of picking. "They are in earnest now !" he cried, and drew up his men to receive the enemy, who came on at full charge. They were a portion of the royal household troops, the picked and best- lined soldiers of France, mounted upon heavy and powerful horses, and armed with cuirasses that were buckled close to the saddle, so that the point of a bayonet could not easily find entrance within their steel panoply. Sir Andrew, who knew that it was useless to abide such an avalanche of man and horse, ordered his soldiers not to tire until they saw the whites of their enemy's eyes, to take aim only at their horses, and open their ranks as soon as a charge- was made upon them. This skilful maweuvre succeeded as he had foreseen— the French horses were brought down in heaps, their riders easily bayonettcd, and the far-famed household troops were driven back with heavy loss. After the battle, George II. ob- , "Well, Sir Andrew, I hear that your regi- ment was broken; that you let the- French cavalry in upon you."' "Yes, please your majesty." replied the gallant humourist, "but they didna gang hack again." The most important military service, however, in which Sir Andrew Agnew was engaged, was the defence of Blair Castle against the troops of the Pre- tender, during the insurrection <>f 1 74^ 6. On the arrival of the I)ukc of Cumlxirland in Perth, to take the command of the royalist army, he found it necessary to occupy and garrison Blair Castle, the seat of the Duke of Athol, then absent, for the purpose of suppressing the disaffected of the district, and cutting off the communications of the rebels by the great roads between the southern and northern parts of the country. For this service Sir Andrew was selected, and despatched thither with a detach- ment of three hundred soldiers. Not only was no siege expected, but the place was ill fitted to sustain one; for it was scantily supplied with provisions, and had no artillery or military stores, while the soldiers had only nineteen rounds of ammunition per man. Of all this the rebels seem to have been apprised, and accordingly, on the morning of the 17th of March, 1746, Lord George Murray (the Pretender's lieutenant-general), Lord Nairne, Mac- pherson of Clunie, and other Jacobite leaders, re- solved to recover the castle, and open their com- munications. They came, therefore, in great force, captured the detached parties that were without the castle, and suddenly appeared before the fort itself, while such a visit was neither expected nor desired. Most commanders in such a situation would have abandoned the fort as untenable; but Sir Andrew had not thus learned his military lessons under the great Marlborough: he resolved to defend it to the last, notwithstanding its impoverished condition, and thus give time for the collection of those forces by which the insurrection was soon after extinguished at Culloden. He therefore issued strict orders to his garrison, now reduced to 270 men, to save their ammunition with the utmost care; and, as there were no provisions in the castle but some bread and cheese, he commanded these to be dealt out in small daily rations. As the obtaining of Blair Castle was of the utmost importance to the rebels, Lord George Murray, their ablest commander, commenced the siege in due form. He began by a summons to surrender; and knowing the old knight's fiery temper, he wrote to him to this effect, not upon decent foolscap, but a piece of shabby gray paper. But who was to enter the lion's den, and beard him with such a missive? No Highlander could be found to undertake the task, so that it was intrusted to a comely young servant maid of Blair Inn, who had found favour in the eyes of Sir Andrew's young officers while they resorted there, and who thought that they would not allow her to be harmed. She approached the garrison, taking care to avoid being shot by waving the paper over her head like a flag of truce. When she delivered her credentials, she earnestly entreated the officers to surrender, assuring them that the Highlanders were a thousand strong, and would ding the castle about their ears; but this friendly warning they only received with peals of laughter, telling her that they would soon set these Highlanders a scampering, and visit her at the inn as before. No one, however, would deliver the summons to Sir Andrew, except a timid lieutenant of the company, whose nerves were further unstrung by the use of strong waters; but no sooner did the old knight hear the first sentence read, than he burst forth into such a storm of wrath, ami uttered such fearlul threats of shooting the next messenger through the head who dared to propose a surrender, that the lieutenant took to his heels, while Molly, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, and heard the whole, fled across the fields like a startled hare. She told her employers, waiting in the churchyard of P.lair, the result of her mission, who laughed heartily at the rage of Sir Andrew. Still further to provoke him, and perhaps tempt him to a rash sally, they threw large stones at the walls, accompanied with biting jokes at his expense; but fiery though his temper SIR ANDREW AGNEW SAINT AIDAN. 23 was, and impatient of ridicule, he was too wary a soldier to afford them such an advantage. In the meantime, the more serious work of the siege went on with vigour, and, though the walls of Blair Castle were of great thickness, the assailants not only used common, but also hot shot, in the hope of setting the building on fire. The wood, being luckily not very combustible, only smouldered as it received the balls. Hut the chief confidence of the rebels was to starve the garrison out, knowing how scantily it was sup- plied; and for this purpose they strictly blockaded the place, while their best marksmen were ordered to keep up a close fire wherever a man showed him- self. This last incident suggested to the officers of the castle a practical joke at the expense of their commander, whom they loved, feared, and laughed at when they dared. They got one of his old uniforms ; and having stuffed it with straw and furnished the figure with a spy-glass, they placed it at a small turret window, where it looked like no other than Sir Andrew himself reconnoitring the enemy below. The rifles of the assailants were all brought to bear upon it, and the best marksmen of the Highlands continued to riddle this deceptive wisp, until Sir Andrew himself, wondering why this point should have been selected for such a hot attack, ascended the turret, and there he saw this other identity standing under fire, as stiff, fearless, and imperturbable as himself! He was in a towering rage at the irreverent joke, and resolved that the perpetrator should not escape a share of it. The wag was ordered to go to this spot so full of risk, and carry the puppet away, Sir Andrew gruffly pro- nouncing this retributive sentence: "Let the loon that set it up, just gang up himsel' and tak' it down again." Beyond all military calculation, Sir Andrew Agnew, with miserably scanty means, had made good his position from the 17th of March to the end of the month. Longer than this, however, it was impossible to hold out, as the provisions of the garrison were exhausted, so that nothing seemed to be left them but a desperate sally, or immediate surrender. A faint chance indeed there might be of some messenger stealing through the leaguer, and carrying tidings of their condition to the Earl of Crawford, who was then at Uunkeld with a strong force of Hessians. This was now attempted, and the gardener of Blair Castle undertook to be the messenger. The gate was opened without noise; he stole out unperceived, mounted a horse, and rode cautiously down the avenue to the highway; but immediately a firing and pursuit commenced, and, on the following day, a Highlander was seen mounted on the gardener's horse, so that the garrison thought he must have been either killed or taken. On the 1st of April, however, they were startled by an un- expected messenger; this was no other than Molly of the inn, formerly the envoy of the rebels, who now came with the joyful intelligence that they had broken up their encampment, and gone away to Dalnacardoch. Sir Andrew, who was not 'only- wary but short-sighted, would not trust the news', and abode a day longer in his hunger-bitten hold, when an officer arrived from the Earl of Crawford, to say that his lordship himself was on the road with his cavalry, and would arrive within an hour. Such was the case; for the gardener's horse, being alarmed at the tiring, had thrown him, and been captured bv the Highlanders, so that he had made his journev to Dunkeld on foot. When Crawford arrived, Sir Andrew drew up his soldiers to receive him, and thus addressed the earl: "My lord, I am very glad to see you; but, by all that's good, you have been very dilatory; we can give you nothing to eat." The earl laughed good humouredly, and invited Sir Andrew and his officers to dine with him — an invita- tion that was never more welcome, perhaps, than at the present crisis. The summer-house in the garden was immediately turned into a dining-room, the table was plentifully covered with substantial dishes and excellent wines, and the half-starved and doomed defenders of Blair Castle were translated, as if by magic, into the regions of safety, hilarity, and good cheer. After the siege was thus raised, Sir Andrew Agnew's gallant defence was not forgot. He and his soldiers were publicly thanked by the Duke of Cumberland, and soon afterwards he was promoted to a colonelcy of marines. In 1747, in consequence of the abolition of the many old feudal offices in Scotland, his hereditary sheriffdom of Wigtonshire was among the number; but he received ^4000 as a compensation from government. In 1750 he was appointed governor of Tinmouth Castle, in room of the Duke of Somerset. He died, with the rank of lieutenant-general, in 1771, at the age of eighty-four, and was succeeded by his fifth son, Sir Stair Agnew, who was bom October 9, 1734. His father, who at that period was absent on foreign service, found at his return the infant nestled in the maternal bosom. "What's this ye hae got, Nelly?" he asked, as this was the first intelligence he had of the event. "Another son to you, Sir Andrew," she answered. "And what do you call this boy?" "I have called him Stair, after the earl, your commander." "Stair, Sir Stair," repeated the knight, whistling the sibilant sounds through his teeth — "Sir Stair, Sir Deevil ! It disna clink weel, Nelly." The sounds, however, were at last united, whether they clinked or not, for the child, by the death of his elder brothers, ulti- mately succeeded to the baronetcy of Lochnaw. AIDAN, Saint, Bishop of Lindisfarne in the seventh century, was originally a monk in the island of Iona, and afterwards became a missionary in England. The causes that brought Aidan to England were the following: — Oswald having recovered the kingdom of Northumbria from its pagan oppressors, by a signal and surprising victory, his piety attributed this success to the aid of the true God, whom he had invoked; and the first movement of his reign was to arrest the growing heathenism of his people, and recall them to the Christian faith. Eor this purpose he applied, however, not to the Italian monks, as his uncle had done, but to the Culdees of Iona; among whom he had been sheltered in his early youth, during the disasters of his family, and by whom he had been carefully educated. The message was gladly received by the Culdee brethren, and Corman, a learned monk of their order, was forth- with sent to Northumbria. But the savage manners of the people appalled him, their inability to compre- hend his instructions disgusted him, so that, des] air- ing of their conversion, he speedily returned home. While he was giving an account of his mission, and describing the Northumbrians as a race of impracti- cable savages, a voice o\ rebuke was slid lenly hear 1 in the assembly: "Brother, it seems to me that \ r want of success was owing to a want oi con< sion to your hearers. You should first have fed them with milk, according to the apostolic rule. until they were fitted to receive stronger : All eyes were turned upon the speaker, who was It was unanimously agreed by the ;>-•.: was the fittest person to attempt the 1 livers the Northumbrians, and, on the charge i'C.r.g pro- posed to him, he cordially agreed. He arrived in 24 S AIN'T AID AN England A.D. 634, and repaired to the court of king Oswald. And now a missionary work commenced in the Northumbrian kingdom such as missionary annals can seldom parallel, for both king and monk went hand in hand in the duty. Aidan, being a Celt, was either wholly ignorant of the Saxon language of his hearers or imperfectly acquainted with it; but. when he preached, Oswald was ready to interpret his addresses. The happiest results at- tended these joint labours. The ancient idolatry was utterly thrown aside, and Christianity established over Deira and Bernicia. Still further to confirm this change, Aidan prevailed upon the king to trans- fer the episcopal see from York to Lindisfarne, or Holy Island, a bleak peninsula upon the coast of Northumberland, which probably the Culdee pre- ferred from its resemblance to his own beloved Iona, and here accordingly a monastery was erected, which Aidan supplied with monks from his own count ry. After the death of ( )swald, who was slain in battle, the kingdom of Northumbria was once more parted into two sovereignties, those of Deira and Bernicia; in the former of which Oswin was appointed king, and in the latter Oswio. It was, however, a peaceful conjunction; and Aidan still continued, as before, to preside over the church of Northumberland. The character ot Oswin appears to have fully resembled that of his amiable predecessor, and the Bishop of I.indisfarne seems to have loved him with a still higher affection than even that which he bore for Oswald. Amidst the obscurity of that remote period, and the shadowy character of its actors, Bede tells i;s a touching story, in which the simple manners of the times, as well as the intercourse between the king and the bishop, are brought out in strong relief. < >>\\ in had once presented to Aidan a fine horse. It happened that one day, as the Culdee was riding forth, he met a poor man who asked of him an alms, and Aidan, having no money, bestowed on him the horse and its rich trappings. The king on hearing of this was displeased, and could not refrain from expressing his resentment when Aidan next dined with him. "Why were you so lavish of my favour," lie said, "as to give away my pad to a beggar? If you must needs mount him on horseback, could you not have given him one of less value? Or, if he wanted any other relief, you might have supplied him otherwise, and not have parted so easily with my gift." "You have not carefully considered this matter," replied Aidan, "for otherwise you could not set a greater value on the son of a mare, than 0:1 a -on .,f (Jo 1." In this way the affair ended for the present. Not long after, when the king returned from hunting, he saw the bishop, and, remembering what hail lately occurred, lie laid aside his sword, threw himself at the good man's feet, and asked his forgiveness for the rude words he had uttered. Aidan, grieved to see the king in this posture, im- mediately raised him, and declared that the whole matter was forgot. After this interview, how ver, Aidan was observed to be very sad; and, on being asked the cause by some of his monks, he burst into tears, and replied, "How can I b<- otherwise than afflicted? I foresee that Oswin' s life will be short, for never have I beheld a prince so humble. His temper is too heavenly to dwell long among us, and, truly, the nation does not deserve the blessing of such a ruler." This mournful prediction was soon after accomplished by the death of ( Kwin, who was as^ns. sinated in August, 651: and Aidan took the matter so deeply to heart, that he died a fortnight after. Such is the little that we know of Saint Aidan, the apostle of Northumberland and Bisln >]j of Lindis- WILLIAM AIRMAN. fame. That he was great and good, and that he accomplished much, is evident from the old chroni- cles, and especially from the history of venerable Bede, from whom the foregoing brief account has been chiefly gathered. AIRMAN, YVilliam, a painter of considerable merit of the last century, was bom in Aberdeen- shire, October 24, 1682. His father was "William Aikman of Cairney, a man of eminence at the Scottish bar, who educated his son to follow his own profession. But a predilection for the fine arts, and a love of poetry, which gained him the friendship of Ramsay and Thomson, induced the youth to give up studying for the law, and turn his attention to painting. Having prosecuted his studies in paint- ing for a time at home under Sir John Medina, and also in England, he resolved to visit Italy, that he might complete his education as an artist, and form his taste by an examination of the classic models of antiquity; and accordingly, in 1707, having sold his paternal estate near Arbroath, that he might leave home untrammelled, he went to Rome, where, during a period of three years, he put himself under the tuition of the best masters. He afterwards visited Constantinople and Smyrna, wdiere the gentlemen of the English factory wished him to engage in the Turkey trade; an overture which he declined; and returning to Rome, he there renewed his studies for a time. In 1712 he revisited his native country, and commenced practising his pro- fession; but though his works were admired by the discerning few, he did not meet with adequate en- couragement, the public being too poor at that time to purchase elaborate works of art, and the taste for such works being then too imperfectly formed. At this period he formed an intimacy with Allan Ram- say, whose portrait he afterwards painted. John, Duke of Argyle, who equally admired the artist and esteemed the man, regretting that such talents should be lost, at length prevailed upon Aikman, in 1723, to move with all his family to London. There. under the auspices of his distinguished friend, he as- sociated with the most eminent British painters of the age, particularly Sir Godfrey Rneller, whose studies and dispositions of mind were congenial with his own. The duke also recommended him to many people of the first rank, particularly the Earl of Burlington, so well known for his taste in archi- tecture; and he was thus able to be of much service- to Thomson, who came to London soon after him- self, as a literary adventurer. He introduced the poet of The Seasons to the brilliant literary circle of the clay — Pope, Swift, Cay, Arbuthnot, &c. — and, wdiat was perhaps of more immediate service, to Sir Robert Walpole, who aimed at being thought a friend to men of genius. Among the more intimate friends of Aikman was William Somerville, author of The Chase, from whom he received an elegant tribute of the muse, on his painting a full-length portrait of the poet in the decline of life, carrying him back, by the assistance of another portrait, to his youthful days. This poem was never published in any edition of Somerville's works. Aikman painted, for the Earl of Burlington, a large picture of the royal family of hngland; all the younger branches being in the middle compartment, on a very large canvas, and on one hand a full-length portrait of Queen Caroline; tlie picture of the king (George II.)— that king who never could endure "boetry or bainting," as he styled the two arts in his broken English — intended for the opposite side, was never finished, owing to the death of the artist. This was perhaps the last picture brought towards a close by Aikman, and it HEW AINSLIE WILLIAM AITON. is allowed to have been in his best style; it came into the possession of the Duke of Devonshire by a marriage alliance with the Burlington family. Some of his earlier works are in the possession of the Argyle and Hamilton families in Scotland; his more mature and mellow productions are chiefly to be found in England, and a large portion at Blickling, in Norfolk, the seat of the Earl of Buckinghamshire; these are chiefly portraits of noblemen, ladies, and gentlemen, friends of the earl. He died, June 4, 1 73 1, at his house in Leicester Fields, and, by his own desire, his body was taken to Scotland for in- terment; his only son, John (by his wife Marion Lawson, daughter of Mr. Lawson of Cairnmuir, in Peeblesshire), whose death immediately preceded his own, was buried in the same grave with him, in the Greyfriars' Churchyard, Edinburgh. A monument was erected over the remains of Mr. Aikman, with the following epitaph by Mallet, which has been long since obliterated: — "Dear to the good and wise, dispraised by none, Here sleep in peace the father and the son. Hy virtue as by nature close allied, The painter's genius, but without the pride. Worth unambitious, wit afraid to shine, Honour's clear light, and friendship's warmth divine. The son, fair-rising, knew too short a date; Hut O how more severe the parent's fate! He saw him torn untimely from his side, Felt all a father's anguish — wept, and died." In his style of painting Aikman seems to have aimed at imitating nature in her most simple forms; his lights are soft, his shades mellow, and his colour- ing mild and harmonious. His touch has neither the force nor the harshness of Rubens; nor does he, like Reynolds, adorn his portraits with the elegance of adventitious graces. His compositions are dis- tinguished by a placid tranquillity, rather than a striking brilliancy of effect; and his portraits maybe more readily mistaken for those of Kneller than for the works of any other eminent artist. AINSLIE, Hew. This poet, whose songs in the Scottish dialect have obtained considerable popu- larity, was born April 5th, 1792, at Bargeny Mains, in the parish, of Dailly, Ayrshire. He was first educated by a private tutor at home, afterwards at the parish school of Ballantrae, and finally at the academy of Ayr. On leaving the academy, he became assistant landscape gardener on the estate of Sir Hew Dalrymple Hamilton, a situation which he afterwards exchanged at the age of sixteen for that of a lawyer's clerk in Glasgow; but the confine- ment of the office being injurious to his health, he removed to Roslin, and subsequently obtained a clerk, hip in the Register Office, Edinburgh. Like most of the tuneful class, Hew Ainslie was a poet from his early years, and had composed verses before he left his native Carrick. The practice was not neglected when his age was more matured, and in consequence of a visit to Ayrshire in 1S20, his poetical ardour burst forth into authorship under the title of A Pilgrimage to the Land of Burns. The volume thus entitled was a duodecimo of 271 pages, printed at Deptford, "for the author,'' in 1S22, and amidst jokes, stories, and descriptions connected with the history of our great Scottish bard, it was more plentifully interspersed with Air., lie's own poetry, which his narrative seems mainly intended to introduce. This mixture of prose and verse makes a very lively and readable book, and as such the Pilgrimage brought the author into considerable notice. In the meantime Ainslie had married, had found the salary of his clerkship in the Register House too small to maintain his family, and had moreover discovered that he was not likely to be enriched by- cultivating poetry as a regular occupation. He wisely therefore resolved to emigrate to the I'nited States, where the field was open to industrious en- terprise, and where his chances were better both for health and prosperity. He accordingly arrived at New York in 1822, purchased a farm, and settled on it for three years. Still haunted however by the restless eccentricity and love of change that characterizes poets, he joined the Socialists of New Harmony, under their leader Robert Owen; but after a year's experience he renounced the system, and set up as a brewer first at Louisville, and after- wards at New Albany. But his premises having been destroyed by accident, he changed his occupa- tion to that of the erection of mills and factories, and finally settled in Jersey, a suburb of New York. Thus far we have been enabled to trace the course of Hew Ainslie in America, and until 18^5, in which he published a volume of Scottish Songs, Ballads, and Poems, at New York; but after this period our information deserts us, so that we neither know how he prospered in his old age, nor in what year he died. That he had never ceased, however, to cultivate poetry as his first love, or to remember Scotland with a filial devotedness, his last publica- tion is a satisfactory proof. Their Scottish raciness is as complete as if he still trode his native heather, instead of having been a sojourner for more than thirty years in America. Their merit also is so far above mediocrity, that they will be remembered and cherished in Scotland long after the history of their author is forgot. ALTON, William, an eminent horticulturist and botanist, was born, in 1 73 1, at a village in the neighbourhood of Hamilton. Having been regularly bred to the profession of a gardener, as it was and still is practised by numbers of his countrymen, with a union of manual skill and scientific knowledge, he removed to England in 1754, and, in the year fol- lowing, obtained the notice of the celebrated Philip Miller, then superintendent of the physic garden at Chelsea, who employed him for some time as an assistant. The instructions which he received from that eminent gardener laid the foundation, it is said, of his future fortune. His industry and abilities were so conspicuous, that, in 1759, he was pointed out to the Princess-dowager of Wales as a lit person to manage the botanical garden at Kew. His pr< vi- sional talents also procured him the notice of Sir Joseph Banks, and a friendship commenced which subsisted between them for life. Dr. Solander and Dr. Dryander were also among the number of his friends. The encouragement of botanical si was a distinguished feature of the reign of George III., who, soon after his accession, determine 1 I render Kew a repository of all the vegetable richer of the world. Specimens were accordingly ) rocurcd from every quarter of the globe, ami placed under the care of Mr. Aiton, who showed a surprbii ; degree of skill in their arrangement. I niler hi- superintendence a variety of improvements place in the plan and edifices of Kew 1..;: ■:■:.-. till they attained an undoubted eminence over ever) botanical institution. In 17S3, on a vacancy ring in the superintendence of the pleasure-gardens r.t Kew, Mr. Aiton received the a] George III., but was, at the same time, permitted to retain his more important office. Il:> labours proved that the king's favours were 1 for. in 17S0. he published an elal rate descrip- tion of the plants at Kew, under the l.ile Ilcrtus ALEXANDER ALES WILLIAM ALEXANDER. Keutensis, 3 vols. Svo, with a number of plates. In this production Mr. Aiton gave an account of no fewer than 5600 foreign plants, which had been intro- duced from time to time into the English gardens; and so highly was the work esteemed, that the whole impression was sold within two years. A second and improved edition was published by his son, William Townsend Aiton, in 1S10. After a life of singular activity and usefulness, distinguished more- over by all the domestic virtues, Mr. Aiton died on the 1st of February, 1703, of a schirrus in the liver, in the sixty-third year of lus age. He lies buried in the churchyard at Kew, near the graves of his distin- guished friends, Zofiany, Meyer, ami Gainsborough. He was succeeded by his son, Mr. William Town- send Aiton, who was no less esteemed by George III. than his father had been, and who for fifty wars ably superintended the botanical department at Kew, besides taking charge of the extensive pleasure-grounds, and being employed in the im- provement of the other royal gardens. In 1S41 he retired from office, when Sir William J. Hooker was appointed director of the botanic gardens. Mr. Aiton died at Kew in 1S49, aged eighty-four. ALES, or ALESSE, Alexander, a celebrated theologian of the sixteenth century, was born at Edinburgh, April 23, 1500. He is fust found in the situation of a canon in the cathedral of St. Andrews, where he distinguished himself by entering into the prevalent controversy of the day against Luther. lbs zeal for the Roman Catholic religion was stag- gered by the martyrdom of Patrick Hamilton; but it is not probable that his doubts would have been carried further, if he had not suffered persecution for the slight degree of scepticism already manifested. Being obliged to flee from St. Andrews, he retired to Germany, where he became a thorough convert to the 1'rotestant doctrines. The reformation in England induced Ales to go to London, in 1535, where he was highly esteemed by Cranmer, Latimer, and Cromwell, who were at that time in favour with the king. Henry regarded him also with r, and used to call him "his scholar.'' Upon tiie fall of Cromwell, he was obliged to return to Germany, where the Elector of llrandenburg ap- i him professor of divinity at Frankfort-upon- the-Oder, in 1540. As a reformer Ales did not always maintain the most orthodox doctrines; hence lie was . in 1542, to flee from his chair at Frankfort, and betake himself to Leipsic. He spent the remainder of his life in that city, as professor of divinity, and died in 1 565. His works are: — I. />■ X Merita /ioiwrum Operum, Disputatio .'/./ /// Celehri Aeiidemia I.eifsica, ad 29 Nor*. 15S0. 2. Comm tttarii hi Ei-angelium foannis, el in utrann/iie I-'.pt tolam ad 'I'tmotheuin. 3. E.xpositio in /' •'.'"■' /' • •' . 4. /V fit tijicatione, contra Os- caudrutn. $. /)c Sancta 7'rimtate, cum Coufutalione Errort !': ntnu. 6. , ud trigiuta et duos rum /.,■;.:>!!, >i :111m. The fifth in this list is the most favourable specimen of Ids abilities. ALEXANDER, William, an eminent noble- man, -' ttesman, and poet of the reign of fames VI. and Charles I. The- original rank of this personage was that of a small landed proprietor or laird; but lie was elevated, by dint of his various accomplishments, and through the favour of the two sovereigns above- mentioned, to the rank of an earl. His familv, which possessed the small estate of Mcnstric, near Stirling, is said to have derived the name Alexander from the prenomen of their ancestor, Alexander Macdonald, a Highlander who had been settled in this property by the Earl of Argyle, whose resi- dence of Castle Campbell is in the neighbourhood. William Alexander is supposed to have first seen the light in 15S0. He received from his friends the best education which the time and place could afford, and at a very early age he accompanied the young Earl of Argyle upon his foreign travels, in the capacity of tutor. Previous to this period, when only fifteen years of age, he had been smitten with the charms of some country beauty, "the cynosure of neighbour- ing eyes;" on his return from the Continent he wrote no fewer than a hundred sonnets, as a ventilation to the fervours of his breast; but all his poetry was in vain, so far as the lady was concerned. She thought of matrimony, while he thought of love, and accordingly, on being solicited by a more aged suitor, in other respects eligible, she did not scruple to accept his hand. The poet took a more sensible way of consoling himself for this disappointment than might have been expected; he married another lady, the daughter and heiress of Sir William Erskine. His century of sonnets was published in London in 1604, under the title of Aurora, containing the First Fancies of the Author's Youth, by W. Alex- ander, of Menstrie. Pie had early been introduced to royal notice; and when James removed to London, in 1603, the poet did not remain long behind, but soon became a dependant upon the English court. In this situation, however, he did not, like most court poets of that age, employ his pen in the adula- tion of majesty; his works breathe a very different strain: he descanted on the vanity of grandeur, the value of truth, the abuse of power, and the burden of riches; and his moralizings assumed the strange shape of tragedies — compositions not at all designed for the stage, but intended to embody his sentiments upon such subjects as those we have mentioned. His first tragedy was grounded upon the story of Darius, and appeared at Edinburgh in 1603. He afterwards republished it at London, in 1607, along with similar compositions upon the stories of Alex- ander, Croesus, and Cajsar, under the title of Mon- archick Tragedies, by William Alexander, gentleman of the Princes' Privy Chamber. It would thus ap- pear that he had now obtained a place in the house- hold of Prince Henry; to whom he hail previously addressed a poem or parsenesis, designed to show- how the happiness of a sovereign depends upon his choice of worthy councillors. This poem, of which no copy of the original edition is known to exist, except one in the university library at Edinburgh, was, after the death of Henry, addressed to Prince Charles, who then became heir-apparent; an economy in poetical, not to speak of court business which cannot be sufficiently admired. He was, in 1C13, appointed one of the gentlemen ushers of the presence to this unfortunate prince. King James is said to have been a warm admirer of the poems of Alexander, to have honoured him with his conversation, and called him "my philo- sophical poet." He was now aspiring to the still more honourable character of a divine poet, for in 1 6 1 4, appeared at Edinburgh his largest and perhaps his most meritorious production, entitled Doomsday, or the Great Day of judgment, which has been several times reprinted. 1 litherto the career of Alexander had been chiefly that of a poet: it was henceforth entirely that of a courtier. In 1614 he was knighted by King James, and appointed to the situation of master of requests. In i''2i the king gave him a grant by his royal deed of the province of Nova Scotia, which as yet had not been colonized. Alexander designed at first to WILLIAM ALEXANDER. =7 establish settlers upon this new country, and as an inducement to the purchase ofland, it was proposed that the king should confer upon all who paid a hundred and fifty pounds for 6000 acres the honour of a knight baronetcy. Owing to the perplexed politics of the last years of King James, he did not get this scheme carried into effect, but Charles had no sooner acceded than he resolved upon giving it his support. Alexander, in 1625, published a pamphlet, entitled An Encouragement to Colonics, the object of which was to state the progress already made, to recommend the scheme to the nation, and to invite adventurers. It is also supposed that he had a hand in A Brief Relation 0/ the Discovery and Plantation of New England, and of sundry accidents therein occurring from the year 1607 to this present 1622: together with the state thereof as it now stand- eth, the general form of Government intended, and the division of the whole territory into Counties, Bar- onies, iS:c. King Charles, who probably considered the scheme in a twofold light, as a means of establish- ing a new colony, and of remunerating an old servant at the expense of others, conferred upon Sir William Alexander the rank of Lieutenant of New Scotland, and founded the necessary order of knights baronets of the same territory. The number of these baronets was not to exceed a hundred and fifty, and it was ordained that the title should be hereditary — that they should take precedence of all ordinary knights and lairds, and of all other gentlemen, except Sir William Alexander, and that they should have place in all his majesty's and his successors' armies, near and about the royal standard for the defence thereof, with other honour- able distinctions of precedency, to them, their wives, and heirs. The ceremony of infeftment or seasine was decreed to take place on the Castle-hill of Edin- burgh, the earth and stone of which were held, by a fiction, to represent the component particles of certain baronies and lordships on the other side of the Atlantic. But the Nova Scotian scheme, what- ever might have been originally contemplated, de- generated at last into a mere means of raising money by the sale of titles; a system too much practised in the English reign of James VI., and which gained, as it deserved, the contempt of all honourable minds. The territory of Xova Scotia afterwards fell into the hands of the French, who affected to believe that they hal acquired a right to it by a treaty entered into with the king of Great Britain, in 1632, in which the country of Acadia was ceded to them. In the treaty of peace transacted between the two countries, in 1763, it was successfully asserted by the British government that Xova Scotia was totally distinct from Acadia, and accordingly the territory reverted to Britain, along with Canada. The country, however, having become the property of other individuals during the usurpation of the French, it appears that the Xova Scotia baronets have very slight prospects of ever regaining the lands to which their titles were originally attached. In 1626 Sir William Alexander was, by the favour of Charles I., made secretary of state for Scotland. an office to which the salary of ^100 a year, being that of a good mercantile clerk in the present day, was then attached. In 1630, by the further favour of his sovereign, he was raised to the peerage under the title of Viscount Stirling; and in 1633, at the coronation of King Charles in Holyrood Chapel, he was promoted to the rank of an earl under the same title. He held the office of secretary during fifteen years, and gained the credit of being a moderate statesman in the midst of many violent political scenes. It docs not appear, however, that he was a popular character. Such esteem as he miyht have gained by his poetry seems to have l>een lost in con- sequence of his arts to become rich. A permission which he acquired, probably in his character of lieu- tenant of Xovia Scotia, to coin base money, lx.came a grievance to the community, and procured him much obloquy. He had erected a splendid mansion at Stirling out of his ill-acquired gains, and affixed upon its front his armorial bearings, with the motto "Per marc, per terras." This was parodied, as we are informed, by the sarcastic Scott of Scotstarvet, into "Per metre, per turners," in allusion to the sources of his wealth, the people believing that the royal favour had a reference to his lordship's poetry, while turners, or black farthings, as they were other- wise called, had been one of the shapes in which this favour was expressed. The house still remains a monument of the taste of the poet. The Earl of Stirling in 1637 published a complete edition of his poetical works, under the general title of Recreations with the Muses. The work contained his four "Monarchick Tragedies," his "Doomsday," the "Parrenesis to Prince Henry," and "Jonathan, an Heroick Poem Intended, the first book," the whole revised and very much improved by the author. He died in 1640, leaving three sons and two daughters, whose posterity was supposed to have been completely extinct, till a claimant appeared in 1830, as descended from one of the younger branches of the family, and who assumed the titles of Stirling and Devon. Considered as a poet, Alexander is entitled to considerable praise. "His style is certainly neither pure nor correct, which may perhaps be attributed to his long familiarity with the Scottish language; but his versification is in general much superior to that of his contemporaries, and approaches nearer to the elegance of modern times than could have been expected from one who wrote so much. There are innumerable beauties scattered over the whole of his works, but particularly in his songs and sonnets; the former are a species of irregular odes, in which the sentiment, occasionally partaking of the quaintness of his age, is more frequently new and forcibly expressed. The powers of mind displayed in his 'Doomsday' and 'Para?nesis' are very considerable, although we are frequently able to trace the allusions and imagery to the language of holy writ; and he appears to have been less in- spired by the sublimity than by the awful importance of his subject to rational beings. A habit of moral- izing pervades all his writings; but in the ' Doomsday' he appears deeply impressed with his subject, and more anxious to persuade the heart than to de- light the imagination." — Johnson and Chalmers' English /Wis, edit. 1S10. vol. v. The Earl of Stirling was employed in hi- latti r vears in the task of revising the version of the Psalms prepared by King James, which duty was im- posed upon him by the royal paraphrast himself. In a letter to his friend Drummond of Hawth 28th of April, 1620, Alexander says, "Bi I received your last letter, with the psalm you -cut. which I think very well done: I hn long before it came; but he [King James] prei own to all else; though, perchance when \ you will think it the worst of the three. N 1 must meddle with that subject, an : 1 I advise you to take no more pains therein. In consideration of the pains which the eai he-towed upon this subject, Charle> I.. 28th of December, 1627, gran! ' lordship to print the late king's ver-io: I Psalms exclusively for thirty-one \ irs. I he lir.-t . appeared 'at Oxford in 1051. The ki: g =s ALEXANDER I. ALEXANDER III. endeavoured to enforce the use of his father's version alone throughout his dominions; and, if he had been successful, the privilege would have been a source of immense profit to the Earl of Stirling. Hut the royal wishes were resisted by the Scottish church, and were not very respectfully obeyed any- where else; and the breaking out of the civil war soon after rendered the privilege entirely useless. 1 ALEXANDER I., surnamed A er or the Fierce, King of Scots from 1 106 to 1 124. was the fifth son of Malcolm III. by his wife Margaret of England. Lord Hailes conjectures that his name was bestowed in honour of Pope Alexander II.; a circumstance worthy of attention, as it was the means of introduc- ing the most common ami familiar Christian name in Scotland. The date of Alexander's birth is not known; but as his four elder brothers were all under age in 1093, at the death of their father, he must have been in the bloom of life at his accession to the throne. He succeeded his brother Edgar, January 8, II06 7, and immediately after married Sybilia, the natural daughter of I lenry I. of England, who had married his sister Matilda or Maud. Such an alliance was not then considered dishonourable. Alexander was active in enforcing obedience to his rule, and in suppressing the bands of rebels or robbers with which the northern parts of the king- dom were infested; but the chief events of his reign relate to the efforts made by the English church to assert a supremacy over that of Scotland. These efforts were resisted by the King of Scots with steady perseverance and ultimate success, although the pope countenanced the claims of the English prelates. It is to be presumed that this spirit would have in- cited the Scottish monarch to maintain the independ- ency of his kingdom had it ever been called in question during his reign. Alexander died, April 27, 1124, after a reign of seventeen years and three months. As he left no issue, he was succeeded by his next and last surviving brother David, so memor- able for his 1) mnty to the church. Alexander was also a pious monarch. Aldred, in his genealogy of the English kings, says of him that "he was humble and courteous to the clergy, but, to the rest of his subjects, terrible beyond measure; high-spirited, always endeavouring to compass things beyond his power; not ignorant of letters; zealous in establishing churches, collecting relics, and providing vestments ant books for the clergy; liberal even to profusion, and taking delight in the offices of charity to the ]' ior." His donations to the church were very con- siderable. He made a large grant of lands to the h of St. Andrews, increased the revenue of the monastery of Dunfermline which his parents had founded, established a colony of canons regular at home, and built a monastery on Inchcolm in the Firth of Forth, in gratitude for having been pre- served from a tempest on that island. ALEXANDER II., the only legitimate son of Kin_; William, surnamed the /.ion, was born in M98. He succeeded his father, December 4, 1214, in his seventeenth year, and was crowned next n, aft< r I some years settled in Edinburgh, re; ubiShcd I'.'.s Essays with considerable additions in 1S11. lie had now won for himself an - : readers; and he was ?. • f rtunate as to t::;d a < in Francis Jeffrey, then the Aristarckus uf a 3Q DAVID ALLAN. and through the Edinburgh Review, at that time the paramount oracle of the literary world. A very powerful and beautiful article forthwith appeared in that periodical upon the long-neglected work; and the consequence was that the Essays immediately took their place as the standard of the Nature and Principles of Vasts. The present generation can well remember how their boyhood and youth were familiarized with it, and how the pulpit and the press did homage to its authority. But time has sobered down this enthusiasm, and Alison is reckoned neither to have invented a new theory (tor its lead- ing idea had been distinctly announced by David Hume); nor to have sifted it with the most philoso- phical analysis, or expressed it in the happiest language. Hut who shall arrest our fleeting emotions pro laced by the sublime and the beautiful, and reduce them to such a fixed standard as all shall recognize? Longinus, Burke, Schickel, and Alison have all successively passed away, while the science of aesthetics is still accumulating its materials for future theorists and fresh legislation. The theory of taste, like that of the weather or the tides, is still the subject of hypothesis and conjecture. Besides his principal work of Essays on Taste, which has gone through many editions, both in Britain anil America, as well as been translated into French, Mr. Alison published two volumes of sermons, which have also been several times republished; and a "Memoir of Lord Woodhouslee," inserted in the Transactions of the Edinburgh Royal Society, 1818. The character of Alison, which is thus given by his son, was borne out through a long and well-spent life: "No man who held firm and uncompromising opinions on the principles of religion and morals, i with more indulgence on the failings of others, or passed through the world in more perfect charity and good-will to all men. No man who had lived much in society, could retire with more sincere pleasure at all periods of his life into domestic privacy, and into the solitude of the country. . . . No man who had attained a high reputation as a preacher or an author, was ever more absolutely in- different to popular applause, as compared with the com. : the performance of duty.'' ALLA N, David, a painter of great merit, was bom at Alloa, February 13th, 1744. He was 1 of Mr. David Allan, shore-master at that small port. The mother of Allan, whose maiden name was Gullan, brought him prematurely into the world, and died a few days after his birth.' The ter had so small a mouth that no nurse he foun 1 in the place fitted to give him sink: ing heard of, who lived at the dis- tance of s nne miles, he was pai ked up in a basket 1 sent off under the charge of a man who carried him on horseback, the journey ti inally dangerous by a deep The horse happened to stumble,' the man I Hi ■ tiny h the was ejected from the basket into the snow, receiving as he fell a severe cut U] head. Sin h were the < ircumstances . Mr. David Allan commenced existence. Kvcn after having experienced the tender cares of his nurse, misfortune continued to harass him. In the autumn of 1745, when he mu-t have been about eighteen months old, a battery was erected at Alloa, to defend the passage of the Forth against the army of I'rincc Charles. While the men were firing the cannon for experiment, the maid intrusted with the ■■ of young Allan ran across the open sp; ■. at the moment when they were discharged, and he only escaped death by a hair-brc; His genius for designing was first developed by accident. Being confined at home with a burned foot, his father one day said to him, "You idle little rogue, you are kept from school doing nothing! come, here is a bit of chalk, draw something with it upon the floor." He took the chalk, and began to delineate figures of houses, animals, and other fami- liar objects; in all of which he succeeded so well that the chalk was seldom afterwards out of his hand. When he was about ten years of age, his pedagogue happened to exercise his authority over some of the boys in a rather ludicrous manner: Allan im- mediately drew a caricature of the transaction upon a slate, and handed it about for the amusement of his companions. The master of the ferule, an old vain conceited person, who used to strut about the school dressed in a tartan night-cap and long tartan gown, got hold of the picture, and right soon de- tected that he himself was the most conspicuous and the most ridiculous figure. The satire was so keen, and the laugh which it excited sunk so deep, that the object of it was not satisfied till he had made a complaint to old Allan, and had the boy taken from his school. When questioned by his father how he had the effrontery to insult his master, by represent- ing him so ridiculously on his slate, his answer was, "I only made it like him, and it was all for fun !" The father observed the decided genius of his son, and had the good sense to offer it no resistance. At this time the establishment of the Messrs. Foulis' aca- demy of arts at Glasgow was making some noise in the country. Allan, therefore, resolved to appren- tice his son to those gentlemen upon the terms given out in their prospectus of the institution. On the 25th of February, I755> when exactly eleven years of age, the young draughtsman was bound appren- tice to the Messrs. Foulis for seven years, to attend their painting academy in the university of Glasgow. In Newhall House there is a sketch in oil, done by him, representing the inside of the academy, with an exact portrait of Robert Foulis in the act of criticiz- ing a large picture, and giving instructions to his principal painter about it. In the year 1764 some of his performances at- tracted the notice of Lord Cathcart, whose seat. Shaw Park, was situated in Clackmannanshire near Alloa. Lady Cathcart introduced him to the notice of Lady Frances Erskine, daughter of the insurgent Earl of Mar, and mother of the gentleman to whom the peerage was restored in 1824; as also to Lady Charlotte Erskine, to Mrs. Abercromby of Tulli- body, mother of Sir Ralph; and to some other person- ages of distinction in the neighbourhood of his birth- place. By the associated purses of these kind patrons, Allan was enabled to go to Italy, where lit studied with unremitting application for eleven years. Luring his residence there, Lady Cathcart used to write to him with all the care and affection of a mother. In 1773, while living at Rome, he gained the prize medal given by the academy of St. Luke for the best specimen of historical composition ; being the only Scotchman who had ever reached that honour, besides Mr. Gavin Hamilton. After his return in 1777, Allan resided for about two years in London; but, falling into a bad state of health, he was ordered home to Scotland for a change of air. Soon after Ids arrival in Edinburgh, he was appointed successor to Runciman (deceased), as master and director of the academy established by the Hoard of Trustees for Manufactures and Im- provements, for the purpose of diffusing a knowledge of the principles of the fine arts and elegance of design, in the various manufactures and works which required to be figured and ornamented; a charge for DAVID ALLAN — which he was peculiarly well qualified, by the exten- sive knowledge he possessed of every branch of the art. He retained the situation till his death. Allan was much admired for his talents in compo- sition, the truth with which he delineated nature, and the characteristic humour which distinguished his pictures, drawings, and etchings. There are several engravings from his pictures, as, "The Origin of Painting, or the Corinthian Maid Drawing the Shadow of her Lover," and four in aquatinta by Paul Sandby, from drawings made by Allan when at Koine, representing the sports during the carnival. Several of the figures were portraits of persons well known to the English who visited Rome between 1770 and 1780. There is one caricature by Allan, which is well known to Scottish collectors : it repre- sents the interior of a church or meeting-house at Dunfermline, at the moment when an imprudent couple are rebuked by the clergyman.. There is a drollery about the whole of this performance that never fails to amuse. The alliance of his genius to that of our national poets, led Allan, in 1788, to publish an edition of the Gentle Shepherd, with char- acteristic drawings. He also published a collection of the most humorous of the old Scottish songs, each illustrated by a characteristic etching. At his death, which happened on the 6th of August, 1796, he left a series of drawings designed for the poems of Burns in an equally graphic and humorous style. There is one property which runs through all the designs of Allan, and by which his productions may be distinguished at the most casual glance: this is a peculiar elegance of form which he always gives to the limbs of his figures — elegance to such a degree, that in many cases it may be pronounced out of nature. Allan, by his wife, whom he married in 1788, left one son, bearing his own name, and who was sent out as a cadet to India, and one daughter named Barbara. In person, our Scottish Hogarth, as he was called, had nothing attractive. The misfortunes attending his entrance into the world were such as nothing in after-life could repair. "His figure was a bad resemblance of his humorous precursor of the English metropolis. He was under the middle size; of a slender, feeble make, with a long, sharp, lean, white, coarse face, much pitted by the small- pox, and fair hair. His large prominent eyes, of a light colour, were weak, near-sighted, and not very animated. I lis nose was long and high, his mouth wide, and both ill-shaped. His whole ex- terior to strangers appeared unengaging, trifling, and mean; and his deportment was timid and obse- quious. The prejudices naturally excited by these disadvantages at introduction, were however dis- pelled on acquaintance; and, as he became easy and pleased, gradually yielded to agreeable sensations; till they insensibly vanished, and at last, were not only overlooked, but, from the effect of contrast, even heightened the attractions by which they were so unexpectedly followed. When in company he esteemed, and which suited his taste, as restraint wore off, his eye imperceptibly became active, bright, and penetrating; his manner and address quick, lively, and interesting -always kind, polite, and respectful; his conversation open and gay, humorous without satire, and playfully replete with benevolence, ob- servation, and anecdote." — Brown's edition of the Gentle Shepherd, 1S0S. The author who thus forcibly delineates his ex- ternal appearance, give- the following character of his genius: — "As a painter, at least in his own country, he neither excelled in drawing, composition, colouring, nor effect. Like Hogarth, too, beauty, GEORGE ALLAN. 3> grace, and grandeur of individual outline and form, or of style, constitute no part of his merit. He was no Corregio, Raphael, or Michael Angelo. He painted portraits as well as Hogarth, below the middle size; but they are void of all charms of ele- gance, and of the claro-obscuro, and are recom- mended by nothing but a strong homely resemblance. As an artist and a man of genius, his characteristic talent lay in expression, in the imitation of nature with truth and humour, especially in the representa- tion of ludicrous scenes in low life. His eye was ever on the watch for every eccentric figure, every motley group, or ridiculous incident, out of which his pencil or his needle could draw innocent enter- tainment and mirth." ALLAN, George. This poet and professional litterateur, whose life unfortunately was too brief to develope into full maturity the high promise which his early efforts had given, was the youngest son of John Allan, farmer at Paradykes, near Edinburgh. Hav- ing adopted the law for his future profession, he be- came apprentice to a writer to the signet; but either growing weary of dry legal studies, or finding greater attractions in literature, he abandoned the vocation almost as soon as he had added W.S. to his name, and went to London for the purpose of pursuing an adventurous career as an author. There he soon obtained the acquaintance of Allan Cunningham, and Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall, who recognized his talents, and encouraged his literary aspirations. But his strength of nerve and soundness of health did not correspond with his ardent enthusiasm, so that in 1829 he was fain to accept an appointment in Ja- maica. The climate of the West Indies not suiting him, he returned home in the following year, and soon after obtained the editorship of the Dumfr.es fournal, a respectable newspaper in the Conserva- tive interests. This situation he continued to hold for three years with great popularity and success, when a change in the proprietorship of the news- paper introduced new measures and a new editor ; and Allan repaired to Edinburgh, and obtained employ- ment as literary assistant in the office of the Messrs. Chambers. In this situation, while he remained in it, he was comfortable and happy, while his intel- lectual energies had full swing; and besides contri- buting many excellent articles to Chambers' Edin- burgh fournal, he wrote extensively in the columns of the Scotsman newspaper. Mr. Allan was r,'- author of a Life of Sir Walter Scott, in one octavo volume, which enjoyed large popularity until it. with its other brethren, was swallowed up by the admiral >ie memoir written by Lockhart ; and he materially as- sisted Mr. Peter Macleod in preparing the On National Melodies of Scotland, to which he furnished several contributions. Although still young. Mr. Allan had already ac- complished so much, and established so hopeiul a prospect for the future, that in October, 1S31, ai . while only in his 25th year, lie ventured on ": hostages to fortune,'' by marrying Mis. Mai} Hill, a widow, the eldest daughter of Mr. Will: in Pagan of Curriestanes, and niece of Allan < unmng- ham. In 1S34 also, some of his relatives, tl political influence, obtained for him a - the stamp-office, which insured him a competence, but without depriving him 1 t ■ tunity to prosecute iris literary oecuj-at: : But soon after this promising ] ; " t w - : . •' - career was suddenly terminate '■ His in! and poetical anh ur : ;.; i been I " frame it tenanted; the tion, which had both, animate i a:. ! er.tce: le . him, ROBERT ALLAN- SIR WILLIAM ALLAN. sank under the too close application of his mind; and he died suddenly at Janefield, near Leith, on the 15th of August, 1S35, in the thirtieth year of his age, leaving behind him a name, both as a prose writer and a poet, which few so young are fortunate to establish. ALLAN, Robert. This minor poet, whose merits however deserve commemoration, was, like most of his order, of a humble origin, being the son of a flax-dresser in Kilbarchan, Renfrewshire. He was born in that village on the 4th November, 1774, and was the third of a family of ten children. He followed the occupation of a muslin weaver; but having been born a poet, he relieved his monotonous occupation with poetry, so that many of his best compositions were produced under the regular click- ing of his hand-loom. Through his early love of music and talent for song-writing he became ac- quainted with the poet Tannahill, and lived with him on terms of friendly intimacy. When the Scot- Minstrel was published by R. A. Smith, that eminent composer set the contributions of Robert Allan to music; and in 1S20 several of Allan's songs were published in the Harp of Rtnfrcivshire, where they attracted considerable notice. His popularity a> a writer of songs was now so well established, that his friends thought the time had arrived when his reputation as a poet might be confirmed, and the poverty of his lot amended, by a separate publication of his own. Accordingly, a collection of his poems, revised by the editorial care of Robert Burns Hardy, teacher of elocution in Glasgow, was published by subscription in 1S56; and — unmeritedly, as we think — proved a failure. This sufficed to deter him from any such attempt in future. In the meantime, all hough depressed by poverty, Robert Allan had married, and was the father of a numerous family, all of whom were married except hi- youngest son, a portrait-painter of great promise, who had emigrated to the United States. Embittered by the neglect with which his poetry had been treated, and sxk of his native country because it was not governed according to his own political theories, our poet, now in his sixty-seventh year, resolved to leave Scotland for ever, and spend the rest of his days with his youthful Benjamin in America. Greatly against the wish of his friends, he sailed to New York; but the fatigues of the voyage were too much for him, and he died in that city on the 1st of June, 1841, only six days after landing. ALLAN. Sir Wii.i.iam, R.A., President of the Royal Scottish Academy of Painting. This dis- tingui-hed painter was born at Edinburgh, in the year 17S2. and was the son of William Allan, who held the humble office of macer in the Court of n. Notwithstanding the circumstances of his birth, lie was destined, like others of the same grade in Si otland, to undergo a classical education, before his future path in life was selected. Accordingly, he was sent to the high-school of Edinburgh, and 1 under the precept orship of Mr. William Nicol, whose memory will descend to posterity more for the "peck o' maut" which he brewed to supply one memorable sitting where Burns was the laureate, than for all Ids classical attainments, respectable though they were. The future arti-t, however, was a poor Latin scholar, though Nicol was a stern and able teacher. In fact, the boy already felt nature strong within him, so that he was sketching the ob- jects around him with whatever instrument came to hand, while his class-fellows were occupied with the commentaries of Cesar or the longs and shorts of Ovid. So keen was this artistic tendency, that the forms and floor of the class-room were frequently chalked with his juvenile efforts, while their excel- lence pointed out the offender who had thus trans- gressed against academic rule. Another luxury in which he indulged, was to linger near a group of boys playing at marbles; and while studying their attitudes and the expression of their countenances, he neither thought of the class hour that had elapsed, nor the punishment that awaited his remissness. After striving against the bent, Mr. Nicol saw that he could not transform his pupil into a lover of Latin and Greek; but his pupil had long been of the same opinion. He felt within himself not only his natural tendency, but a vague conception of the eminence to which it would lead him; and his usual reply to paternal remonstrance was, "Father, in spite of all this spending of money in learning Latin, I will be a painter." A painter accordingly it was consented that he should be, but his noviciate in the profession was sufficiently humble: he was bound apprentice to a coach-builder in Leith Walk, to paint the armorial bearings on the panels of carriages. But Hogarth himself had a less promising com- mencement. William Allan, although a stripling not more than thirteen years of age, soon gave such indications of pictorial excellence, that he was em- ployed in the delicate task of painting certain ana- tomical preparations at Surgeons' Square Hall. At the commencement of his labours there, he was locked up by mistake at night in the room wdiere he had been occupied all day, and was thus compelled to spend the hours of darkness amidst the skeletons and mangled relics of the dead. The hideous effects upon the imagination of a timid susceptible boy in such a charnel-house; the sights he saw by the glimmer of the moon through the crevices of the window-shutters, and the still more terrible phan- tasms which his fancy conjured up, formed such a night of horror as no artist but Fusel i could have relished. Allan himself was wont at a late stage in life, and amidst the literary circles of Edinburgh, to detail the particulars of this ghastly bivouac with a force of description and amount of merriment that never failed to set the hearers in a roar. It was making Yorick's skull to speak anew, for the mirth of the present generation. The high promise of excellence which the coach- panel painting of William Allan afforded, so won upon his employer, that, through the influence of the latter, he was entered in the Trustees' Academy, where he was a pupil for several years; and it is worthy of remark that Wilkie entered this school at the same period with Allan, sat on the same form, and copied from the same models and drawings. This circumstance, independently of their mutual enthusiasm for the art in which they were afterwards so distinguished, ripened an affection between them which no jealous rivalry could subsequently disturb. Their friendship continued unabated till the close of Wilkie's life; and Allan was wont, while training his scholars, to refer to his illustrious fellow-pupil, as their best model and example. After he had spent several years in the lessons of the Trustees' Academy, where he had a faithful and efficient teacher in Mr. Graham, of wdiose instructions he always -poke with gratitude and respect, Allan went to London, and was admitted to the school of the Royal Academy. On commencing active life, how- ever, he soon experienced the difficulties with which the tine arts, as a profession, have to contend in the great metropolis of merchandise: his superiority was not felt with that readiness which his youthful enthu- siasm had anticipated, and the demands upon his SIR WILLIAM ALLAN. 33 pencil were so few as would soon have been insuffi- cient to furnish him with a mere subsistence. Like his countrymen so situated, he resolved to try the experiment elsewhere, and find or make a home wherever his talents could be best appreciated. The place he selected for trial was Russia, a country still imperfectly known in general society, and where the fine arts seemed to have little chance of a cordial reception, amidst the recent and as yet imperfect civilization of the people. The boldness of his choice was also fully matched by scantiness of means for its execution; for he knew nothing of the Russ language, was slenderly provided with money, and had only one or two letters of introduction to some of his countrymen in St. Petersburg. Thus inadequately equipped, the artist-adventurer threw himself into a career which was ultimately to lead to fame and fortune. Even the commencement was attended with a startling omen; for the ship in which he embarked for Riga was tossed about by adverse winds, and at length driven almost a wreck into Memel. Thus, contrary to his purpose, Allan found himself the temporary inhabitant of a sea-port town in Prussia, in the midst of a people to whose tongue he was a stranger, and with pecuniary re- sources which a few days would exhaust. Still, however, his stout heart triumphed over the difficulty. Having settled himself at an inn, he commenced in due form the occupation of portrait painter, and had for his first sitter the Danish consul, to whom he had been introduced by the captain of the vessel that brought him to Memel. Other sitters followed; and having thus recruited his exhausted purse, he resumed his original purpose of travelling to Russia, which he did by land, passing, on his way to St. Petersburg, through a considerable part of the Russian army, which was at that time on its march to the field of Austerlitz. At St. Petersburg he found an effectual patron in his countryman, Sir Alexander Crichton, physician to the imperial family, to whom he was warmly recommended by Colonel Crichton, the physician's brother, one of his early patrons in Scot- land, and by Sir Alexander he was introduced to an extensive and fashionable circle of society, where his artistic talents were appreciated, and his opportu- nities for their improvement furthered. To accom- plish that improvement, indeed, was so strongly the desire of his ardent enthusiastic mind, that neither the motives of personal comfort and safety, nor the attractive society of the Russian capital, could with- hold him from a course of adventurous self-denying travel. He therefore repaired to the Ukraine, where he resided for several years, studying the wild scenery of the steppes, and the still wilder costume and masiners of its inhabitants, with a fearless and observant eye. He also made occasional journeys t<> Turkey and Tartary, as well as to the remote dependencies of the Russian empire, dwelling in the hut of the barbarian serf, or the tent of the wander- ing nomade, as well as the palace of the boyar and the emir; and amidst the picturesque tribes' of the east and north, with whom he thus freely fraternized, he enjoyed a daily intercourse with those whom his less adventurous brethren at home are contented to delineate from the narratives of the traveller or the waking dreams of the studio. The large collection which Allan made of the dresses, armour, weapons, and utensils of the various communities among win mi he sojourned, and the life-like ease and fidelity of form, feature, and costume, by which the figures of his principal paintings are distinguished, attest how carefully and how completely he had identified him- self with Russian, Turk, and Pole, with Cossack. Circassian, and Bashkir. It is much to be regrcttei VOL. I. that he kept no journal of the many stirring scenes he witnessed, and the strange adventures lie under- went in this novel pilgrimage inquest of the sublime and the beautiful. That they were pregnant with interest and instruction, and worthy of a permanent record, was well evinced by the delight with which his hearers were wont to listen to his conversational narratives, when he happened — -which was but rarely — to allude to the events of his travels. He appears also to have become an especial favourite with those rude children of the mountain and the desert among whom he sojourned, and whose language, dress, and manners he adopted, so that he is still remembered by the old among them as an adopted son or brother, while in Poland the usual name by which he is distinguished is le Raphael Ecossais — the Scottish Raphael. After this romantic apprenticeship, in which he established for himself a high reputation as a painter among foreigners, while he was still unknown at home, Allan resolved, in 1812, to return to his native land. But the invasion of Russia by Napoleon obliged him to postpone his purpose; and in addition to the large stock of ideas which he had alreadv accumulated for future delineation, he was compelled to witness, and treasure up remembrances of, the worst effects of war upon its grandest scale — blood- shed, conflagration, and famine maddening every human passion and feeling to the uttermost. On the restoration of peace in 1814, Allan returned to Edinburgh after a ten years' absence, and commenced in earnest the work for which he had undergone so singular a training. His first effort, which was finished in 1815, and exhibited in Somerset House, was his well-known painting of the "Circassian Captives;" and after this followed the "Tartar Banditti," "Haslan Gherai crossing the Kuban," "A Jewish Wedding in Poland," and "Prisoners conveyed to Siberia by Cossacks." But, notwith- standing the now highly established reputation of these and other productions, which he exhibited in his native city, along with the costumes and weapons of the countries by which his paintings were illus- trated, a home reputation was very hard to establish: his countrymen, with their proverbial caution, were slow to perceive the excellences that addressed them in such an unwonted form, and refused to sympathize, at first sight, with Poles, Tartars, and Circassians. It was well, therefore, for Allan that his labours had already been prized in Russia, so that he had not been allowed to return home empty- handed. He persevered with the same boldness that had carried him onward through the encamp- ments of the Calmucks or the defiles of the Caucasus ; and to all the remonstrances of his relations, who advised him to leave such unprofitable work and betake himself to portraits, by which he would gain both fame and money, his invariable answer was. ''I will be a historical painter." His perseverance was at last rewarded. Sir Walter Scott. John Lockhart, and John Wilson, with others, who were able to appreciate the artist's merits, combined to purchase the "Circassian Captives at a price adequate to its value; and having done this, the individual possession of the painting was decidt among them by lot, in consequence of which i: became the property of the Pari of \\ cmy.-s. "Haslan Gherai" and the "Siberian Ex found a munificent purchaser in the Grai Nicholas, late Emperor of Russia, when h the Scottish capital. The tide had thus ck.i and it bore him on to fortune, not 01 ';■ :: ] matters, hut to what he had still m. : at 1 rt ' : establishment of his re' utation a- .. ifo ttish ; aimer 3 I". \ isi 34 SIR WILLIAM ALLAN. >f history. Although they are so well known, the following list of his principal productions may here be fitly introduced: — The Slave Market at Constantinople — purchased by Alexander Hill, Esq., and now the property of .Miss Davidson of Durievale, Fife. John Knox admonishing Mary Queen of Scots. — This is the well-known scene described by the Reformer himself, in which the beautiful queen, irritated by his bold sentiments about the limited power of sovereigns, and the liberty of their subjects, burst into tears. The Orphan, a scene at Abbotsford, in the interior of Sir Walter Scott's breakfast-room. The Meeting of David Deans with his Daughter Jeanie at Roseneath. In the tale of the Heart of Mid- Lothian, Sir Walter Scott, after describing the dress, look, and attitude of the stern old father, adds, "So happily did they assort together, that, should I ever again see my friends Wilkie or Allan. I will try to borrow or steal from them a .sketch of this very scene." This was a fair challenge, which Allan gladly accepted, and the picture of the meeting at Roseneath was the result. The Recent Murray shot by Hamilton of BOTHWELLHAUGH. — In this great event of Scottish history, the painter, instead of confining himself to the strict historical record, has adopted the poetical description of Sir Walter Scott in his ballad of Cadzaw. This gave the artist an opportunity of in- troducing several personages who were not present at the scene, such as John Knox and the Earl of Morton. The Murder of David Rizzio. The Fair Maid of Perth. — The scene is that in the glover's house, when Henry of the Wynd was suddenly awoke on Valentine's morn by the bashful salute of the fair object of his affections, according to the established custom of the festival. The Battle of Prestonpans. — The central and chief object in this painting is the death of Colonel Gardiner, amidst the small handful of English infantry whom he joined when his cavalry had deserted him. The Ettrick Shepherd's Birthday. — In this painting, the portraits of the principal friends of the artist and poet are introduced within the interior of I logg's house at Eltrive, after a day spent in trouting and rambling among the mountains. The Death of Archbishop Sharpe. A Press-Gang. --The terrible and heart-rending fidelity and power of this delineation have always placed it in the foremost rank of Allan's artistic pro- duction,. A young man, the son of a fisherman, has just returned bum a long voyage in a merchant ship, and l>cen welcomed by his parents, relatives, and mistress: the triumphant feast is prepared, and the happiness of the party has reached its height, when a press-gang suddenly rushes in, and the sailor-boy i, within their grasp, and about to be carried off. The agony of the parents; the fruitless attempt of the mother to bribe the leader of the gang; the stupor of the aged grandfather and grandmother, with whom this seems to be the last, as well as the tn')-t crushing affliction which a long-spent and now- worn-out life could have in store for them -and saddest of all, the half-dressed maiden who has hurried to welcome her lover's return, but onlv to lose him, and who has fallen into an insensibility that mi^ht be mistaken for death — compose a group of misery which art has seldom equalled, and perhaps never surpassed. These are but a few of Allan's many productions, which were prized by competent judges as master- pieces of historical painting, and the greater part of which have been familiarized to the public at large through the medium of engraving. His labours, however, were more than once interrupted from ill health; and at last, a complaint in the eyes sus- pended his exertions for several years, and threatened to end in total blindness. By medical advice he went to Italy; and after sojourning a winter at Rome, and spending a short time in Naples, he visited Constantinople, Asia Minor, and Greece, and returned with recruited health to his beloved studio in Edinburgh. He became once more a traveller in 1834, being desirous of visiting the romantic and historical scenery of Spain. His journey on this occasion extended into Western Barbary, and would have been still further lengthened, but for a sudden necessity of returning home, after which he con- tinued to produce many of his best paintings. A desire also to paint the battle of Waterloo led him several times to France and Belgium, that he might collect sufficient materials in costume, scenery, and incident, and study accurately the field of conflict. The result was a magnificent view of this great com- bat of nations, which, at the exhibition of the Royal Academy in 1843, was purchased by the Duke of Wellington, who testified his approbation of its truth and accuracy. Allan had now done enough for fame and fortune, both as artist and traveller; but in 1844 he again grasped his pilgrim's staff for a journey into the far north. He visited Russia, and there produced his painting of "Peter the Great teaching his subjects the art of Ship-building;" which, after being exhibited in the Royal Academy in 1845. was purchased by the Emperor of Russia, for the winter palace of St. Petersburg. In consequence of the success of his first painting of Waterloo, he resolved on producing a second; and, as the former was delineated as viewed from the French side of the action, the latter was from the British. Indepen- dently also of the stirring nature of the subject, his personal as well as patriotic feelings were engaged in this fresh effort, for it was intended for the com- petition of Westminster Hall in 1846. Great, how- ever, as were its merits, it was unsuccessful. It was afterwards purchased by the Junior United Service Club in London, of whose splendid rooms it now forms a conspicuous ornament. The public honours which had already rewarded him, might indeed sufficiently console him under this disappointment ; for in 1826 he was elected an associate of the Royal Academy, and in 1835 an academician. Four years later, on the death of Watson, he was unani- mously preferred to the office of president of the Royal Scottish Academy; and in 1842, after having been appointed her majesty's limner for Scotland on the death of Wilkie, he received the honour of knighthood. He was now also the venerable father of Scottish painting, and could look around him with pleasure upon a race of promising artists whose genius his example and labours had kindled in a department which, as yet, his countrymen had almost wholly neglected. The last professional labour in which Sir William Allan was enL, r a^ r ed was the "Battle of Bannock burn.'" into the difficult and complicated details of which he- entered with all the inspiration and vigour of his best days. The period of action selected was the critical moment when the English, daunted by the discomfiture of their bowmen, the overthrow of their splendid cavalry among the concealed pits, and the appearance of wdiat seemed a fresh Scottish army descending from the Gillie's Hill, gave way on every side, and were pressed and borne down by the resist- less effort of the four Scottish bodies, now united CHARLES ALSTON into one, with the heroic Bruce at their head. Rut this painting, to which he clung to the last, and touched and retouched with a dying hand, he did not live to finish. He died at his house in Great King Street, Edinburgh, on February 23, 1850. As a painter, Sir William Allan will long be gratefully remembered in the annals of Scottish art, for the impulse which he gave to historical composition. For this department he was eminently fitted; for his excellence in painting did not so much consist in character and colour, as in his admirable power in telling a story and his general skill in composition, by which each of his productions is a striking poeti- cal narrative. Sir Walter Scott, a congenial spirit, who highly prized and affectionately loved him, was wont to speak of him under the familiar endearing name of "Willie Allan." ALSTON, Charles, M.D., an eminent botanist, was born in 1683, in Lanarkshire, and spent his early years at Hamilton Palace, under the patronage of the Duchess of Hamilton. Her grace wished him to study the law, but he preferred botany and medi- cine, and accordingly, in 17 16, set out for Leyden, where those sciences were at that time taught by the illustrious Boerhaave. Here he found a great num- ber of young Scotsmen engaged in the same pursuit, and all inspired with an uncommon degree of en- thusiasm in their studies, which they had caught from their master. Alston, after taking his degree as doctor of physic, returned to his native country, and began to practise in Edinburgh. He obtained the sinecure office of king's botanist, through the influence of the Uuke of Hamilton, heritable keeper of Holy- rood House, to which the garden was attached. This garden he enriched by large collections which he had made in Holland, where botanical science was then more highly cultivated than in any other country in Europe. In 1720, notwithstanding that a botanical class was taught in the college by a professor of eminence named Preston, he began a course of lectures in the king's garden. Preston at length waxing old, Alston was, in 1738, chosen to succeed him, as professor of botany and materia medica united. He was exceedingly laborious in his duties as a professor, giving a course on botany every summer, and one on materia medica every winter; and never sparing any pains which he thought could be conducive to the progress of his pupils. The celebrated Dr. Fothergill, in his character of Dr. Russell, bears ample testimony to the assiduity of Dr. Alston, who had been his master; and describes in glowing language the benefit which those who attended him had the means of reaping, his caution in speculation, and how laborious he was in experi- ment. For the assistance of his pupils, he published, about 1740, a list of the officinal plants cultivated in the Edinburgh medical garden. Of Linnceus's svs- tem, which was first promulgated in 1736. 1 )r. Alston. like many other philosophers of his day, was a steady opponent. He published a paper against it, on the sexes of plants, in the first volume of Physical and Literary Essays, a miscellany which was commenced at Kdinburgh in 1751. The controversy which took place at that period amongst naturalists has now lost all its interest, seeing that the method of Linnaeus, after serving a useful purpose, has been superseded by the natural system, to the foundation of which Linnaeus in no small degree contributed, but which it was left to Jussieu and De Candolle to mature. Dr. Alston also contributed some articles to an Edinburgh miscellany entitled Medical Essays; the most important is one on opium. In 17^3 he published an introduction to Dr. Patrick Blair"s ALEXANDER ANDERSON. 35 Index Materia Medica, a work which resembled his own index in a considerable degree. This introduc- tion was a separate work, and was entitled Tyroci- nium Botanicum Edinlmrgense. Dr. Alston, as the contemporary of the first .Monro, and professor of a kindred branch of science, was by no means unworthy of either his time or his place. He must be con- sidered as one of those who have contributed to the exaltation of the college of Edinburgh as a school of medical science. He died on the 22(1 of November, 1760, in the seventy-seventh year of his age. ANDERSON, Adam, author of the largest British compilation upon commercial history, was a native of Scotland, born about the year 1692. Hav- ing removed to London, he was for forty years a clerk in the South Sea House, and at length was appointed chief clerk of the stock and new annuities in that establishment, in which situation he continued till his death. He was appointed one of the trustees for establishing the colony of Georgia, by charter dated June 9th, 5 Geo. II. He was also one of the court of assistants of the Scots corporation in Lon- don. In 1762 he published his work entitled A Historical and Chronological Deduction of the Origin 0/ Commerce, from the earliest accounts to the present time; containing a history of the large commercial in- terests of the British Empire, ike, London, 2 vols. folio. The elaborate character of this work says much for the industry of the author. It was sub- sequently improved in a new edition by David Macpherson, 4 vols, quarto; and a manual abridg- ment of the work may still be considered a want in our literature. Mr. Anderson died soon after he had given it to the world, January loth, 1765, at the age of seventy-three. ANDERSON, Alexander, a very eminent mathematician, born at Aberdeen, near the close of the sixteenth century. How or where he acquired his mathematical education is not known; he pro- bably studied belles-lettres and philosophy in his native university. He comes into notice at Paris, early in the seventeenth century, as a private teacher or professor of mathematics. In that city, between the years 1612 and 1619, he published or edited various geometrical and algebraical tracts, which are conspicuous for their ingenuity and elegance. It is doubtful whether he was ever acquainted with the famous Vieta, master of requests at Paris, who died in 1603; but his pure taste and skill in mathematical investigation pointed him out to the executors of that illustrious man — who had found leisure, in the inter- vals of a laborious profession, to cultivate and extend the ancient geometry, and by adopting a system of general symbols, to lay the foundation, and begin the superstructure of algebraical science — as the person most proper for revising and publishing his valuable manuscripts. Anderson, however, did not confine himself to the duty of a mere editor; he enriched the text with learned comments, and gave neat demon- strations of those propositions which had been lei: imperfect. He afterwards produced a specimen ol the application of geometrical analysis, which > distinguished by its clearness and classic elegance. The works of this eminent person amount to -;\ thin quarto volumes, now very scarce. I best 1. Supplementum Apollonii Kedivivi: sire an.: prol'lematis hactenus d, .es, tin. ai ; ..- 35 CHRISTOPHER ANDERSON. cation of the curve called the conchoid is superseded. 2. AirioXoyia: Pro Zetetico Apolloniani problematis a se jam pridem edito in supplement Apollonii Redivivi. Being an addition to the former work: Paris, 1615, 4to. 3. The edition of the works of Vieta: Paris, 1615, 4to. 4. Ad Angular urn Sectiouem Analytka Theoremata KadoXtKurepa, Ike: Paris, 16 15, 4to. 5. Vindicia Archimcdis, &c. : Paris, 1616, 4to. 6. Altxandri AneUrsoni Scot: Exercitationnm Mathe- maticarum Deeas Prima, &c. : Paris, 1619, 4to. All these pieces of this excellent geometrician are replete with the finest specimens of pure geometrical exercises that have ever perhaps been produced by any authors, ancient or modern. Besides these, literary history is not aware of any other publications by Anderson, though probably there may have been others. Indeed, from the last piece it fully appears that he had at least written, if not published, another, viz. A Treatise on the Mensuration of Solids, perhaps with a reference to gauging; as in several problems, where he critically examines the treatise of Kepler on cask-gauging, he often refers to his own work on stereometry. The subject of this memoir was cousin-german to. Mr. David Anderson, of Finshaugh, a gentle- man who also possessed a singular turn for mathe- matical knowledge, and who could apply his ac- quirements to so many useful purposes that he was popularly known at Aberdeen by the name of Davie Do-a'-things. He acquired prodigious local fame by removing a large rock which had formerly obstructed the entrance to the harbour of Aberdeen. Mathe- matical genius seems to have been in some degree inherent in the whole family; for, through a daughter of Mr. David Anderson, it reached the celebrated James Gregory, inventor of the retlecting telescope, who was the son of that lady, and is said to have re- ceived from her the elements of mathematical know- ledge. From the same lady was descended the late Dr. Reid of Glasgow, who was not less eminent for his acquaintance with the mathematics than for his metaphysical writings. ANDERSON, Christopher. This excellent divine, whose whole life was an uninterrupted career of conscientious painstaking activity and useful- ness was born in the West How, Edinburgh, on the 19th of February, 17S2. Being intended for business, he was entered as junior clerk in a friendly insur- ance office; but at the early age of seventeen, having joined the religious body called Independents, and two years afterwards that of the Knglish Baptists, he relinquished his profitable clerkship that he might devote himself to the ministerial office over that small community in Edinburgh who held his own religious doctrines. Kor this purpose he underwent a hasty course of study in the university of Fdinburgh, which he completed with almost equal speed at the Baptist colleges of ( Uney and Bristol, where a twelvemonth's study of theology was alternated with the practice of preaching as an itinerating missionary; and having in this way qualified himself for the work he originally contemplated, he returned to Fdinburgh and devoted himself to the little community that had waited his arrival. His commencement in the Scottish metro- polis, where learned and eloquent ministers ai ■ so abundant and so highly prized, was as unpromising as his educational training: his usual audience in the small chapel he had hired for the occasion consisted of from fifty to seventy hearers, while the regular mem- bers of his flock amounted to fourteen or fifteen persons, and his call to he their minister exhibited the signatures of not more than thirteen names. So small a beginning, however, is no measure of the capacity of dissenterism under the guidance of a popular preacher; and his congregation increased until the small chapel could not hold them, so that they were obliged to remove to a larger. And while thus suc- cessful, his labours were not confined to his own par- ticular locality. He itinerated as an occasional mis- sionary over several parts of the United Kingdom, bestowing not only his labours but his money in the establishment of a home mission in the Highlands; and in 1S10 he originated the Edinburgh Bible Society, an institution that combined the clergy of Scotland of almost every denomination into one body of religious action. The Rev. Christopher Anderson had now become a man of considerable note in Edinburgh; and it speaks much for his diligence and zeal that, notwith- standing his scanty education, he had been able to make way among the learned and accomplished, and become a leader among them in the field of Chris- tian enterprise. But his natural capacities were excellent, while his course of action seemed the fittest school for maturing and improving them. Thus suc- cessful as a minister, it was natural that such a man should attempt the work of authorship; and for this an occasion was soon presented. During his itiner- ating missionary tours Ireland had fallen within his range; and from the experience which he acquired of that country during a considerable sojourn there in 1814, he was induced to publish A Memorial in behalf of the Native Irish, with a view to their Improi'emcnt in A/oral and Religious Knmvledgc through the med- ium of their own Language. At first it was only a small pamphlet, but he afterwards expanded it into a duodecimo volume. Another such attempt was occasioned by his laying before the Edinburgh Bible Society, in 1819, a MS. entitled A Memorial respect- ing the Diffusion of the Scriptures, particularly in the Celtic or Iberian Dialects. I lis statements on this sub- ject were judged so important that the society re- quested him to publish them; and on complying with their desire, the effect of this production was to in- crease the exertions for the diffusion of Irish and Gaelic Bibles beyond all former example. This work he afterwards enlarged under the title of The A T ative Irish and their Descendants. But besides thus direct- ing the public attention to the religious wants of Ireland and the Highlands, Mr. Anderson's author- ship was called to a subject of domestic and personal interest. His beloved wife had died: his family of two sons and three daughters had also passed suc- cessively away; and these afflictions, by which he was left alone in the world, had brought on not merely the appearance, but also the infirmities, of a premature old age. It was during these heavy successive calamities, and before the grave had finally closed upon every member of the family, that he sat down to console himself by the labours of his pen, and produced The Domestic Constitution; or the Family Circle the Source and 'Test of National Stability. But the chief litcrar)' production of Mr. Anderson was 'The Annals of the English Bible; and, like his earlier attempts in authorship, it originated in accident, and was expanded by after-reflection. At the third centenary of Coverdale's translation of the Bible in 1835 he preached a sermon on the subject; and as he had bestowed much attention on it, his facts were so new and his views so important to many of his audience, that they requested him to publish the discourse. It was accordingly published under the title of The English Scriptures, their first /»'■■ eption and Effects, including Memorials of Tyndale, Frith, Coverdale, and Rogers. The production was so favourably received by the public that he was re- JAMES ANDERSON. 37 quested to reproduce it in a more ample form; and on assenting, he soon found that the task would re- quire the study not merely of weeks but of years. Un- dismayed, however, by such a prospect, he addressed himself to the task; and from the years 1837 to 1845 his researches were prosecuted in the library of the British Museum, the Bodleian at Oxford, the univer- sity library and others at Cambridge, the Baptist Museum at Bristol, besides numerous private sources, from all of which he culled such information as filled several bulky volumes of note-books. But when the Annuls of the Bible was published the public curiosity hail abated, or been directed into new channels; and even those who felt most interest in the subject were dismayed at the voluminous dimensions in which it was presented to their notice. So far therefore as immediate success was concerned, the work was a literary failure; and no occasion has since occurred to revive it into popularity. But it is not the less a valuable production, from which, as from a store- house, the theologian can at once get those necessary materials which he would be compelled to seek over a wide and difficult field of investigation. After a life of such active usefulness as missionary, minister, founder and secretary of religious associations, corres- pondent with foreign missions, and author, the Rev. Christopher Anderson died at Edinburgh on the 18th of February, 1852, within a single day of completing the seventieth year of his age. ANDERSON, James, an eminent antiquary, was the son of the Rev. Patrick Anderson, who had been ejected for nonconformity at the Restoration, and who afterwards suffered imprisonment in the Bass for preaching in a conventicle at Edinburgh. The sub- ject of this memoir was born in Edinburgh, August 5th, 1662, and in 1677 is found studying philosophy in the university of that city, where, after finishing a scholastic education, he obtained the degree of Master of Arts on the 27th of May, 1680. He chose the law for his profession, and, after serving an ap- prenticeship under Sir Hugh Paterson of Bannock- burn, was admitted a member of the society of writers to the signet in 1691. In this branch of the legal profession the study of written antiquities in some measure forces itself upon the practitioner; and it appears that Anderson, though a diligent and able man of business, became in time too fond of the accessory employment to care much for the principal. A circumstance which occurred in 1704 decided his fate by tempting him into the field of antiquarian con- troversy. The question of the union of the two coun- tries was then very keenly agitated — on the one side with much jealous assertion of the national indepen- dency — and on the other, with not only a contempt for the boasts of the Scots, but a revival of the old claims of England for a superiority or paramouncy over their country. A lawyer named Attwood in 1704 published a pamphlet in which all the exploded pretensions of Edward I. were brought prominently into view, and a direct dominion in the crown of Eng- land asserted over that of Scotland. For this work, Mr. Anderson, though altogether unknown to Mr. Attwood, was cited as an evidence and eye-witness to vouch some of the most important original charters and grants by the kings of Scotland, which Attwood maintained were in favour of the point he laboured to establish. Mr. Anderson, in consequence of such an appeal, thought himself bound in duty to his country to publish what he knew of the matter, and to vindicate some of the best of the Scottish kings, who were accused by Attwood of a base and volun- tary surrender of their sovereignty. Accordinglv, in 1705 he published An Essay, s/10-wing that the Cretan of Scotland is Imperial and Independent, Edinburgh, 8vo, which was so acceptable to his country, that, besides a reward, thanks were voted to him by par- liament, to be delivered by the lord-chancellor, in presence of her majesty's high commissioner and the estates, at the same time that Attwood's book, like others of the same nature, was ordered to 1jc burned at the cross of Edinburgh by the hands of the com- mon hangman. Mr. Anderson's publication is now of little value, except for the charters attached to it in the shape of an appendix. This affair was the crisis of Anderson's fate in life. He had, in the course of his researches for the essay, collected a large mass of national papers: the study of charters was just then beginning to be appreciated by antiquaries; the enthusiasm of the nation was favourable, for the moment, to any undertaking which would show the ancient respectability of its separate system of government. Under all these circumstances Anderson found it easy to secure the patronage of the Scottish estates towards a design for engraving and publishing a series of fac-similes of the royal charters previous to the reign of James I., and of seals, medals, and coins, from the earliest to the present time. In November, 1706, he had a parlia- mentary grant of £yx> towards this object. He then proceeded vigorously with the work, and in March, 1707, had not only expended the ,£300 granted by parliament, but £590 besides, which he had drawn from his own funds. A committee reported the facts; and the estates, while they approved of his conduct, recommended to the queen to bestow upon him an additional contribution of ^"1050 sterling. Another parliamentary act of grace — and one of the very last proceedings of the Scottish estates — was to re- commend him to the queen "as a person meriting her gracious favour, in conferring any office or trust upon him, as her majesty, in her royal wisdom, shall think fit." Quite intoxicated with this success, Anderson now gave up his profession, and, resolving to devote him- self entirely to the national service as an antiquary, removed to London, in order to superintend the pro- gress of his work. The event only added another proof to what is already abundantly clear — that scarcely any prospects in the precarious fields of literature ought to tempt a man altogether to resign a professional means of subsistence. The money voted by the expiring parliament is said to have- never been paid; — the British senate perhaps con- sidering itself not the proper heir of the Scottish estates. Apparently in lieu of money, he was favoured, in 1 7 1 5, with the appointment of post- master-general for Scotland; but of this he was de- prived in little more than two years. What progress he now made with his great work is not very clearly known. He is found in 171S advertising that those who might wish to encourage it '•could see specimens at his house, above the post-office in Edinburgh.'' As the expense of engraving must have borne hard upon his diminished resources, he would apj ear to have digressed for some years into an employment of a kindred nature, attended with greater !.. of publication. In 1727 he published the two first volumes of his well-known Collections relating History of Mary, Queen of Scotland, Edinl urgh, 4' '• which was speedily completed by the addition other volumes. This work contains a large nu>> of valuable original documents connected we. Marian controversy; but George Chalmers, wh 1 went over the same ground, insinuates that there :> '-■ •> much reason to suspect his honesty a> a If the prejudices of the two men are fair!) ! a.ance i against the reputations which they re.-pect:ve!y bear 3S JAMES ANDERSON. as antiquaries, we must acknowledge that the charge may not be altogether groundless. Anderson died in 1728 of a stroke of apoplexy, leaving his great work unfinished. The plates were s ild in 1729 by auction at ^530, and it was not till 1737 that the work appeared, under the title of Selectus Diplomatum et Xumismatum Scotia The- saurus, the whole being under the care of the cele- brated Thomas Ruddiman, who added a most elabor- ate preface. ANDERSON, James, D.D., author of a large and useful work, entitled Royal Genealogies, was the brother of Adam Anderson, author of the Com- mercial History. He was for many years minister of the Scots Presbyterian church in Swallow Street, Piccadilly, and was well known among the people of that persuasion in London by the nickname of "Bishop Anderson." He was a learned but im- prudent man, and lost a considerable part of his pro- perty by rash speculations in the South Sea scheme. His great work as an author was Royal Genealogies, or the Genealogical Tables of Emperors, Kings, and Princes, from Adam (!) to these Times, London, folio, 1732. The compilation of this huge work, in which he was aided by many eminent personages, whose families entered into its plan, cost him, accord- ing to his own account, the labour of seven years. It is certainly the completest work of the kind in existence, though with no pretensions to discrimina- tion. The author says very frankly in his preface, that "he has avoided all terms and expressions that may give offence to any nation or family, to any person or party; having nothing to do with the national controversies of historians, nor with the ec- clesiastical and religious debates of theologians, nor with the politics of statesmen, nor with the private jangles of the critics in a work of this kind, but only with facts and plain truth: so that he has let every nation enjoy its own faith; and if any find fault, he hopes they will readily excuse him, not having de- signed to offend them, and is willing to make satis- faction if he lives to publish a second edition." Dr. Anderson also wrote The Constitutions of the Tree Masons, being the chaplain of that body in London. The dales of this worthy man's birth and death are not ascertained. He lived in a house opposite to St. James's Church, Piccadilly. ANDERSON, Jam ks, an agricultural and miscel- laneous writer of great merit, was the son of a farmer at Hermiston, in the county of Mid- Lothian, where he was born in the year 1739. His father dying when he was very young, he was educated by his guardian to occupy the farm, which accordingly he began to manage at the early age of fifteen. It may be sup- posed that he could not have been intrusted with so important a charge if he had not already manifested symptoms of superior character and intellect; much le>s, without such qualifications, could he have dis- charged it, as he is said to have done, with approba- tion. In reading some agricultural works, to qualify himself for his duties, he had observed that it would be of advantage to study chemistry: he accordingly attended the lectures given in the university of Edin- burgh by Dr. Cullen, who, although surprised that one so young should have formed this resolution, had soon reason to admire his pupil's laudable curiosity and good sense, and liberally afforded him every en- couragement. To chemistry he added the study of certain collateral branches of science; so that, when he entered upon his farm, he was not onlv able to keep up with his more aged and experienced neigh- bours, but to adopt a number of improvements, which were speedily found to be of a most profitable nature. Among his improvements was the introduction of the small two-horse plough, which since then has so completely banished the lumbering engine formerly drawn by a string of cattle. Nor did the necessary business of his farm preclude all advancement in knowdedge. He still prosecuted his studies, and contrived to amass an immense stock of information upon almost all subjects. His first attempts in literature appeared in "Essays on Planting," in Ruddiman's Weekly Magazine for 1 77 1. In 1777, having previously removed to a large farm in Aberdeenshire, he published these essays in a separate volume. In 1776 appeared his Essay on Chimneys, in which the principle afterwards acted on in the patent Bath stove was first explained. In the same year with his volume on Planting appeared various pamphlets connected with rural economy, all of which were more or less calculated to gratify the increasing desire of his countrymen for scientific knowledge upon such familiar subjects. The fame of these works procured him a very extensive acquaint- ance with persons of eminence, who wished to profit by the remarks of so able a practical farmer; and in 1 780 the university of Aberdeen acknowledged his merit by conferring upon him the degree of LL.D. Anderson had been married in 1768; and a desire of educating a very numerous family, and enjoying literary society, induced him, in 1783, to remove to Edinburgh, leaving the management of his farm to persons properly qualified. A tract which he had written on the subject of the fisheries, though not printed, attracted the attention of the government, and he was requested, in 1784 to undertake a tour of the western coast of Scotland, for the purpose of ob- taining information on this important subject. He performed the task to the high satisfaction of his employers, who, however, never offered him any re- muneration. The result of his labours appeared in 1785 as An Account of the Present State of the Hebrides and Western Coasts of Scotland; being the substance of a Report to the Lords of the Treasury. Passing over some minor works of Dr. Anderson, we must make honourable mention of a literary and scientific miscellany which he commenced in 1791, under the title of The Bee. This work was published in weekly numbers at sixpence, and, by its delight- ful intermixture of useful information with lighter matters of the belles-lettres, was eminently calculated for the improvement of the young. It was occasion- ally embellished with portraits, views, and draughts of scientific objects — in, it is true, a very homely style, but still not much inferior to the taste of the age. The work ran from the 22d of December, 1790, to the 21st of January, 1794, when it was at length reluctantly abandoned, because such a large proportion of the subscribers were remiss in their payments as to induce an absolute loss to the con- ductor. The cessation of such a meritorious little publication was the more to be regretted, as Ander- son had only been able, towards its close, to bring the assistance of his numerous and distant correspon- dents into full play. The numbers published form eighteen volumes duodecimo, and throughout the whole of that space, we believe there does not occur one morally reprehensible line. Among other papers in The Bee was a series of essays on the political progress of Britain. Though only written in what would now be considered a liberal strain, they appeared in the eyes of the sheriff as calculated to have an injurious tendency at that inflamed period; and the learned doctor was accord- ingly summoned to give up the name of the author. This Anderson refused, from peculiar notions as to JOHN ANDERSON". 39 literary secrecy; he desired to be himself considered as the author. After a second and a third applica- tion, he still refused; and when the printers were sent for, and similarly interrogated, he charged them, in the face of the magistrates, to preserve his secret. All this was the more singular, as his own principles were known to be eminently loyal. Respect for his talents and character induced the magistrates to let the matter drop. The real author, a worthless person named Callender, being afterwards about to quit his country for America, waited upon the authorities, and insinuated that the papers were written by Lord Gardenstone, a man to whom he owed many obligations. Immediately on hearing of this infamous conduct, Anderson came fonvard, and refuted the charge by avowing Callender himself to be the real author. The whole of this affair reflects great credit upon the character of Dr. Anderson. About the year 1797, this ingenious person re- moved with his family to London, where he under- took various works connected with his favourite study of agriculture. For several years he wrote the articles on this subject in the Monthly Review; and from 1 799 to 1802 he conducted a separate miscellany, under the title of Recreations in Agriculture. From the last-mentioned date, he devoted himself almost entirely to the relaxation which advanced years and severe studies had rendered necessary, and particu- larly to the cultivation of his garden, which became a miniature of all his past labours. In 1801 he married a second wife, who survived him. lie died on the 15th of October, 1808, at the age of sixty-nine. In his younger days, Dr. Anderson was remarkably handsome in his person, of middle stature, and robust make; but the overstrained exertion of his mental powers afterwards shook his constitution, and hurried him into old age. Of his abilities, his works exhibit so many proofs that they may be appealed to with perfect confidence. Although a voluminous writer, there is no subject connected with his favourite pur- suit on which he has not thrown new light. But his knowledge was not confined to one science. lie exhibited, to give only one instance, very considerable powers of research, when, in 1773, he published, in the first edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica, an article under the head "Monsoon." In this he clearly predicted the result of Captain Cook's first voyage; namely, that there did not exist, nor ever would be found, any continent or large island in the southern hemisphere except New Holland alone; and this was completely verified on Captain Cook's return seven months afterwards. Upon the whole, though the name of Dr. Anderson is associated with no scientific or literary triumphs of great splendour, his exertions, by their eminent and uniform usefulness, have given him very considerable claims to respect. A minute specification of his works is to be found in the Scots Magazine for 1 809. ANDERSON", John, M. A. An eminent Presby- terian clergyman of last century, grandfather of Professor Anderson, the subject of the next article. ( >f his early history very little is known, except that he received a university education, and took his degree in arts. He was afterwards preceptor to the great John, Duke of Argyle, and he mentions in his Letters upon the Overtures concerning Kirk Sessions and Presbyteries, that he had resided in Edinburgh for twenty-five years in early life. He seems also to have taught a school, and he is upbraided by "Curat Calder" with having been "an old pedantic dominie, teaching Jure data." It was not, however, till after his settlement as minister of Dumbarton, that he became known as an author. The earliest of his productions that has been discovered is entitled A Dialogue between a Curat and a Countreyman concern- ing the English Service, or Common- Prayer Book of England, which was printed in quarto at Glasgow, about 1 7 10. The question relative to the form of prayer used in Scotland immediately after the Re- formation, was at this time keenly canvassed by the Scottish Episcopalians and Presbyterians, and the clergy of the former persuasion had very shortly before introduced the liturgy into their church service. (Carstares' State Papers.) Mr., afterwards Bishop, Sage endeavoured, in his Fundamental Charter of Presbytery Examined, to show that the English liturgy- had been used in Scotland for at least seven years after the establishment of the Protestant religion. In this he was opposed by Mr. Anderson, who adduced many arguments to prove that it was not the English liturgy that is spoken of by the Scottish historians, but that used by the English church at Geneva. Soon afterwards Anderson published a Second Dialogue (dated 1711), in which, says he, "there is hardly anything of importance which is not said in the very words of the writers of the other side," and in which South, Beveridge, Hammond, and Burnet are the curates whose sentiments are opposed. A Letter from a Countreyman to a Curat followed the dialogues, and received several answers, of which we shall only mention one, written by Robert Calder, an Episcopalian clergyman, the friend of Dr. Archibald Pitcairn, and printed in his Miscellany Numbers relating to the Controversies about the Pooh of Common Prayer, &c, folio, 1 7 13. To this attack Anderson replied in a pamphlet entitled Curat Calder Whipt. He soon after published A Sermon preached in the Church of Ayr at the Opening of the Synod, on Tuesday the 1st of April, 1712, printed at the desire of the Synod of Glasgow and Ayr (quarto, price sixpence); and in 1714 the work by which he is best known appeared. It has for its title, A Defence of the Church Government, Faith, Worship, and Spirit of the Presbyterians, in answer to a Book entitled An Apology for Mr. Thomas Rhind, Sec, 4to, and is dedicated to Archibald, Earl of I -lay. About the beginning of the year 171 7, Anderson informs us, "The people of Glasgow were pleased to move that I should be called to be one of the ministers of that place" (Letter to Stewart of Par- dovan, p. 1), but the proceedings relative to this transaction strikingly illustrate the truth of Wodrow's remark in a letter to Dr. Cotton Mather. 1 "We are biting and devouring one another," says the venerable historian, "and like to be consumed one of another." After a course of opposition and debate with which it is unnecessary to trouble the reader. Mr. Anderson was at length settled in Glasgow in 1720, although it appears from M'Ure's History that the North-west Church, to which he was ap- pointed, was not founded till 1721, nor finished for "a year or two thereafter." Mr. Anderson did not long survive his call to Glasgow, — the date of his death has not been ascertained, but his successi >r was appointed in 1723. His controversial writings are full of valuable historical information, and him to have been thoroughly versed in the I _ literature, but it cannot be too much regretted that he so far indulged in intemperate language. "W e have not alluded to some of his smaller pair,; hlets, which refer merely to subjects of a temp> rary 1 r local nature. Upon the family tombstone, erected by t! '•'■ I of Professor Anderson, over the grave of his gran 1- 1 Wodrows History, new editi ::. v !. i p x.w. 40 JOHN ANDERSON. father, upon the front of the North-west Church, Glasgow, was inscribed the following memorial of Mr. Anderson: — "Near this place ly the remains of the Rev. John Anderson, who was preceptor to the famous John, Duke of Argyle and Greenwich, and minister of the gospel in Dumbarton in the beginning of the eighteenth century, and in this church in the year 1720. He was the author of ///(• Defence of the Church-government, Faith, Worship, and Spirit of the Presbyterians, and of several other ecclesiastical and political tracts. As a pious minister and an eloquent preacher, a defender of civil and religious liberty, and a man of wit and learning, he was much esteemed; he lived in the reign of Charles II., James II.. William III., Anne, and George I. Such times, and such a man, forget not, reader, while thy country, liberty, and religion are dear to thee." ANDERSON, John, F.R.S., professor of na- tural philosophy in the university of Glasgow, and founder of the eminently useful institution bearing his name in that city, was born in the parish of Roseneath, in Dumbartonshire, in the year 1726. He was the eldest son of the Rev. James Anderson, minister of Roseneath, who was, in his turn, the eldest son of the Rev. John Anderson, preceptor to John, Duke of Argyle, afterwards minister of the gospel at Dumbarton, and of whom a notice is given in the preceding article. The subject of this memoir, having the misfortune to lose his father in early life, was educated by his aunt Mrs. Turner, widow of one of the ministers of the High Church of Stirling. While residing at this town, where he received the rudiments of learning, he appeared as an officer in the burgher corps raised in February, 1 746, to defend it against the forces of the young Chevalier. His conduct on this occasion was worthy of his dis- tinguished ancestor, from whose example he appears to have derived that attachment to the principles of civil and religious lil>erty which marked his charac- ter through life. The carbine and other arms which he carried on the walls of Stirling are preserved in the museum connected with his institution at Glas- gow. He received the more advanced part of his education at the college of Glasgow, where, in 1756, he was appointed professor of oriental languages, being then in the thirtieth year of his age. It was not in this sphere that Mr. Anderson was destined to shine with greatest lustre. His mind had a decided bent towards the exact sciences, and to the illustration of the arts with which they are connected. His translation, therefore, to the chair of natural philosophy, which took place in 1760, was highly agreeable to him, and also most fortunate for the world. While he took an early opportunity, after this event, to fulfil an important private duty, by repaying his aunt for the expenses of his education', he entered upon the business of his class with an enthusiastic ardour of application, which we may safely pronounce to have been without example in any Scottish university. Not contented with the ordinary duty of delivering a course of lectures '1 he performed that duty in a manner alone sufficient to obtain distinction he was indefatigable in studying and exemplifying the application of science to mechanical practice; visiting, for this purpose, the workshops of artizans in the town, and receiving, in return for the scientific doctrine which he had to communicate, a full equivalent of experi- mental knowledge. The most estimable chai istic of Professor Anderson, was a liberal and diffusive benevolence in regard to the instruction of hi- rare. Under the inspiration of a feeling, which was in that age more rare, and therefore more meritorious, than it is at present, he instituted, in addition to his usual class, which was strictly mathematical, one for the working-classes and others whose pursuits did not enable them to conform to the prescribed routine of academical study, illustrating his precepts by experi- ments, so as to render it in the highest degree attractive. He continued to teach this anti-toga class, as he called it, twice every week, during the session, to the end of his life; and it would not be easy to estimate the amount of good which he thus rendered to his fellow-creatures. As an instance of the liberal good sense by which he was governed in his eminently useful scheme, it is related that a mechanic having complained to his assistant, that he had scarcely time, after leaving his work, to change his dress before coming to the class, and having suggested the propriety of the operatives being allowed to attend without such change, Mr. Anderson at once acceded to it. His was a mind too strongly bent on mere usefulness to regard empty form. Yet, as a lecturer, he is allowed to have himself exhibited a surpassing elegance of manner. His style was easy and graceful, his command of language unlimited, and the skill and success with which his manifold experiments were performed could not be surpassed. He excited the interest and attracted the attention of his pupils, by the numerous and appropriate anecdotes with which he illustrated and enlivened his lectures. Enthusiastic in his pro- fession, his whole ambition and happiness consisted in the dissemination of useful knowledge; and nothing afforded him purer pleasure than hearing that any of his pupils had distinguished themselves in the world. The only distinct work which he published in con- nection with his favourite science, was a valuable one, entitled Institutes of Physics, which appeared in 1786, and went through five editions during the next ten years. At the commencement of those political changes in France which ended in such unhappy results, Mr. Anderson, from his ardent and liberal character, was among those who sympathized with the pro- ceedings of the emancipated people. Previous to that period, he had invented a species of gun, the recoil of which was stopped by the condensation of common air within the body of the carriage. Hav- ing in vain endeavoured to attract the attention of the British government to this invention, he went to Paris, in 1791, carrying with him a model, which he presented to the national convention. The governing party in France at once perceived the benefit which would be derived from this invention, and ordered Mr. Anderson's model to be hungup in their hall, with the following inscription over it — "The Gift ok Science to Liberty." Whilst he- was in France, he got a six-pounder made from his model, with which lie made numerous experiments in the neighbourhood of Paris, at which the famous Paul Jones, amongst others, was present; and who gave his decided approbation of the gun, as likely to prove highly useful in landing troops from boats, it may very properly be called, it has gradually been extended nearer and nearer to the original design of the founder. There are now fifteen pro- fessors, who deliver lectures on surgery, institutes of medicine, chemistry, practical chemistry, midwifery, practice of medicine, anatomy, materia medica, pharmacy and dietetics medical jurisprudence and police, mathematics natural philosophy, botanv, logic, geography, modern languages, English litera- ture, drawing and painting, &c. The institution now possesses handsome and commodious buildings, which belong to the corporation, and, among other additions to its means of cultivating and illustrating science, is an extensive museum of natural history and antiquities. Anderson's University must be con- sidered a wonderful example of the amount of good which one man, of no very great material resources, may do for his kind. The private fortune of one professor in the original college of (Glasgow has heie been found sufficient to produce a new fount of learn- ing, not unworthy to rank with the old, and of very great practical utility to the public. A posthumous work of Professor Anderson, en- titled Observations on Roman Antiquities between the Forth and Clyde, appeared in 1 804. ANDERSON, Robert, M.D., the biographer of Smollett and Johnson, was born on 7th of January, 1750, and was the son of a feuar in the rural village of Carnwath in Lanarkshire. He received the earlier part of his education in his native place, and in the adjacent village of Libberton; was subsequently placed under the tuition of Mr. Robert Thomson, master of the grammar-school of Lanark; and finally studied in the university of Edinburgh, where he commenced attendance upon the divinity class, with the view of becoming a clergyman. He took the degree of M.D. at St. Andrews in 1778. In his early years, when pursuing his studies at Carnwath, he could find but one congenial mind in the whole of that rural district; this was an unfortunate youth, named James Gramme, the son of a neighbour, who, after exhibiting considerable powers as a poet, died in his twenty-second year, and whose reliques were afterwards included by Dr. Anderson, more perhaps through the influence of friendship than deliberate taste, in his edition of the British Poets. Dr. Ander- son first entered into practice as surgeon to the dispensary of Bamborough Castle in Northumber- land; he afterwards removed to Alnwick, where he married Miss Gray, daughter of Mr. John Gray, a relation of the noble family of that name. The declining state of his wife's health, which rendered a change of air necessary, induced him, in 17S4, to remove to Edinburgh, where he ever afterwards resided. He had here the misfortune to lose his amiable partner, who sank under a consumption, leaving him with three infant daughters. Dr. Anderson having secured a small independence, practised no more after this period, but engaged in such literary avocations as he felt to be agreeable to his taste, and became the centre of an agreeable coterie, in which the talents of many a youth of genius were for the first time brought into notice. About the year 1793 he began to prepare his edition of the British Poets, which forms thirteen volumes, large octavo, and appeared between the years 1795 and 1807. To the works of each poet is prefixed a biographical memoir by Dr. Anderson. In 1793 lie married for his second wife Miss Dale, daughter of Mr. David Dale, schoolmaster in East Lothian. A collection of the works of Smollett, by Dr. Ander- son, with a memoir prefixed, has gone through eight editions. To the last edition is affixed a highly characteristic likeness of the editor. The memoir has been published repeatedly in a distinct sha] e, and is a very respectable production. Dr. Ander? n also published a Life if Dr. Samuel films, v. : .-.' Critical Observations on his Works, which has ; ,-.—c : through several editions. Eor several years the end of the eighteenth century. Dr. Anderson was editor of the Edinburgh Magazine, a rival < i the Scots Magazine, more varied and lively in its di ;a is, and which afforded him an opportunity • ■:' ' 1 forward the productions of his young frii nds. work commenced in the year 17S4. and at the end of 1S03 was incorporated with the . s '- ■' it was much indebted to its pr ; ..->.::.-.:;. 4- T. G. TORRY ANDERSON WALTER ANDERSON. editor of the Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, to Lord Hailes, and other eminent literary characters. Among the publications which Dr. Anderson gave to the world, must be included his edition of the Works of "John Moore, M.D., with Memoirs of his Life and Writings, Edinburgh, 1820, 7 vols. 8vo; and an edition of the poems of Robert Blair, Edin- burgh, 1S26, 121110. The great incident of Dr. Anderson's literary life was his connection with the commencement of the career of Thomas Campbell. When Campbell first visited Edinburgh in 1797, being then in his twentieth year, he gained the friendship of Dr. Anderson, who, on being shown a copy of elegiac verses, written by him two years before, when an obscure tutor in Mull, predicted his great success as a poet. It was through Dr. Anderson, in 1 79S, that Campbell was introduced to the circle of his distinguished literary associates in Edinburgh; and he it was who encouraged him by his friendly advice, and assisted him by his critical acumen, in the publication of his celebrated poem, the Pleasures of Hope, for the high character of which he had, previously to its appearance, pledged his word to the public. In acknowledgment of his friendship, the grateful poet dedicated his work to Dr. Anderson. During the later years of his life, this venerable author, though he indulged as much as ever in literary society, gave no w^rk to the public. As .1 literary critic, Dr. Anderson was distinguished by a warm sensibility to the beauties of poetry, and by extreme candour. His character as a man was marked by perfect probity in all his dealings, and unshaken constancy in friendship. His manner was lively and bustling; and from his long-continued acquaintance with the literary world, he possessed an unrivalled fund of that species of gossip and anecdote which gives so much pleasure in Boswell's Life of Johnson. Dr. Anderson died of dropsy in the chest, February 20, 1S30, in his eighty-first year. ANDERSON. Rev. T. G. Torry. This clerical poet, the son of the Rev. Patrick Torry, D.D., titu- lar Bishop of St. Andrews, Dunkeld, and Dunblane, was born at I'eterhead on tile 9th of July, 1805. Having been taught the elements of learning at the parish school of Peterhead, he afterwards became a student in Marischal College, Aberdeen, and the university of Edinburgh. He was admitted into holy orders in 1 S27, as minister of St. John's Epis- copal church, Portobello; afterwards became assis- tant in .st. Georges Episcopal chapel, Edinburgh; and finally was transferred to the ministerial charge of St. Paul's Kpiscopal church, Dundee. This charge he was obliged to reign in 1 855, in conse- quence of had health; and after this period he resided on his e-tate of Fawside, Kincardineshire, to which lie had succeeded in 1S50, in consequence of the deatli of Dr. Young, his maternal uncle. Mr. Anderson died at Aberdeen on the 20th .,f [une, 1S56. He was three times married, and left at his. death a widow and six children. Although lie dili- gently fulfilled the duties of his sacred office, Mr. Anderson was better known by his songs than his sermons, some of which attained a wide popularity, illy tho,e entitled "The Araby Maid," "The Maiden's Vow," and "I love the Sea." the music as well as the words of these last two songs being his own composition. It was a union of the musical and poetical in the same mind, which, however common among the poets of the classical, and min- strels of the medieval ages, is very seldom found among the bards and song-makers of our own dav, and is therefore the more worthy of notice and com- mendation. Mr. Anderson was also an extensive contributor to Poetical Illustrations of the Achieve- ments of the Duke of ]Vellington and his Companions in Arms, published in 1852. ANDERSON, Walter, D.D. The era of this gentleman's birth is unknown; he died at an advanced age, July, 1800, after having been minister of the parish of Chimside for fifty years. He is a remark- able specimen of that class of authors who, without the least power of entertaining or instructing their fellow-creatures, yet persist in writing and publishing books, which nobody ever reads, and still, like the man crazed by the lottery, expect that the next, and the next, and the next will be attended with success. Perhaps Anderson's cacoethes scrivendi received its first impulse from the following ludicrous circum- stance. His parish comprehending the house of Ninewells, he was often entertained there, in com- pany with the brother of the proprietor — the cele- brated David Hume. The conversation having turned one day on the success of Mr. Hume as an author, Anderson said, "Mr. David, I dare say other people might write books too; but you clever fellows have taken up all the good subjects. When I look about me, I cannot find one unoccupied." Hume, who liked a joke upon an unsuspecting clergyman, said, "What would you think, Mr. Anderson, of a history of Croesus, King of Lydia? — that has never yet been written." Mr. Anderson was delighted with the idea, and, in short, "upon that hint he wrote." In 1755 was published the History of Crcesus, King of Lydia, in four parts; con- taining Observations on the ancient notion of Destiny or Dreams, on the origin and credit of the Oracles, and the Principles upon which their Oracles were defended against any attack. What is perhaps the best part of the jest, the work was honoured with a most serio-burlesque notice in the first Edinburgh Review, then just started by Hume, Smith, Carlyle, and other wits — the article being written, we have no doubt, by the very man who incited the unhappy author to his task. The History of Crcesus was also the subject of a critique in the second number of the Critical Review, which had then been just started in London by Smollett. The article in the latter periodical bears such evident marks of the pen of the distinguished editor, and refers to such an extraordinary work, that we shall make no apology for the following extracts. After remarking that the volume has been chiefly compiled from the episodes of Herodotus, that it exhibits a miserable flatness of style, and that all the facts scattered throughout its 235 pages might have been related in three or four, the critic proceeds to say — "We are apt to believe that this is the first essay of some young historian, who has been more intent upon forming his style and displaying his learning, than careful in digesting his plan and com- bining his materials; the subject is too meagre to afford nourishment to the fancy or understanding; and one might as well attempt to build a first-rate man-of-war from the wreck of a fishing-boat, as to compose a regular history from such a scanty parcel of detached observations. The compiler has been aware of this deficiency, and has filled up his blank paper with unnecessary argument, and a legion of eternal truths, by way of illustration. What could be more unnecessary, for example, than a detail of tea -oils for doubting the divinity or dasmoniacism of the ancient oracles? Who believes, at this time of day, that they were either inspired by the deity or influenced by the devil? What can be more super- WALTER ANDERSON WILLIAM ANDERSON. 43 fluoui than a minute commentary and investigation of the absurdities in the plea of the priestess, when she was taxed with falsehood and equivocation? But we beg the author's pardon; he wrote for readers that dwell beyond the Tweed, who have not yet renounced all commerce with those familiar spirits, which are so totally discarded from this part of the island. There is still a race of soothsayers in the Highlands, derived, if we may believe some curious antiquaries, from the Druids and Bards, that were set apart for the worship of Apollo. The author of the history now before us may, for aught we know, be one of these venerable seers; though we rather take him to be a Presbyterian teacher, who has been used to expound apothegms that need no explanation."- The History of Croesus, King of Lydia, one of the most curious productions recognized in the history of literary mania, is now extremely rare — not by any means from the absorbing appreciation of the public, but rather apparently from the very limited extent of its first circulation. The worthy author, though perhaps daunted a little by the reception of his first attempt, in time re- covered the full tone of his literary ambition; and he next attempted a work of much larger compass, which appeared in 1769, in two quarto volumes, under the title of the History of France during the Reigns of Francis II. and Charles IX., to which is prefixed a review of the General History of the Monarchy from its origin to that period. The success of this work was much like that of its predecessor ; yet in 1775 the author published a continuation in one volume, under the title, The History of France, from Ike commencement of the reign of Henry III, and the rise of the Catholic league, to the peace of Worms and the establishment of the famous Edict of Nantes in the reign of Henry IV. In 1783 appeared two further volumes, embracing the history from the commence- ment of the reign of Louis XIII. to the general peace of Minister. But these continuous efforts were not drawn forth by the encouragement of the public; they were solely owing to the desperate cacoethes of the worthy writer, which would take no hint from the world — no refusal from fame. It is said that he was solely enabled to support the expense of his unrequited labour by a set of houses belonging to himself in Dunse (too appropriate locality!), one of which was sold for every successive quarto, till at last something like a street of good habitable tene- ments in that thriving town was converted into a row of unreadable volumes in his library. "Dr. Am lerson," says the Gentleman 's Magazine, ' ' displays none of the essential qualities of historic writing, no research into the secret springs of action, no discri- mination of character, and no industry in accumulat- ing and examining authorities. Even as a compiler he is guided only by one set of materials which he found in the French writers, and may therefore be consulted by the English reader, as a collection of their opinions, while he is highly censurable in not having recourse to original papers and documents re- spectingtheaffairs of hisown country. His styleis uni- formly tame, and defaced by colloquial barbarisms.'' In a literary history of this deplorable character, it is gratifying to find that one effort was at length judged worthy of some praise. This was a work subsequent to the above, entitled The Philosophy of . Indent Greece inzestigatcd, in its origin and progress, '< the eras of its greatest celebrity, in the Ionian, Italic, and Athenian Schools, with remarks on the delineated system of their founders. His principle in this work, according to the authority just quoted, appears to have been " to supply the deficiencies in Mr. Stanley's work, and to give place to remarks upon the mean- ing employed by the most eminent Grecian philo- sophers, in support of their physical, theological, and moral systems; and to give a fuller and more con- nected display of their theories and arguments, and to relieve the frigidity of their bare detail-, by inter- spersing observations." In this work he displays much learning, and is in general both accurate and perspicuous, although he is still deficient in the graces of style. Perhaps it would have been more successful had it not appeared at the same time with Dr. Enfield's excellent abridgment of Brucker's History of Philosophy. One of the last attempts of Dr. Anderson was a pamphlet against the principles of the French Re- volution. This being not only written in his usual heavy style, but adverse to the popular sentiments, met with so little sale that it could scarcely be said to have been ever published. However the doctor was not discouraged ; adopting rather the maxim, ''''contra audenlior ito," he wrote a ponderous addi- tion or appendix to the work, which he brought with him to Fdinburgh, in order to put it to the press. Calling first upon his friend Principal Robertson, he related the whole design, which, as might be ex- pected, elicited the mirthful surprise of the venerable historian. "Really," said Dr. Robertson, "this is the maddest of all your schemes — what! a small pamphlet is found heavy, and you propose to lighten it by making it ten times heavier ! Never was such madness heard of!" "Why, why," answered Dr. Anderson, "did you never see a kite raised by boys?" "I have," answered the principal. "Then, you must have remarked that, when you try to raise the kite by itself, there is no getting it up : but only add a long string of papers to its tail, and up it goes like a laverock !" The reverend principal was completely overcome by this argument, which scarcely left him breath to reply, so heartily did he laugh at the in- genuityof the resolute author. However, we believe, heeventuallydissuaded Dr. Anderson from his design. AJNDERSON, William. This poet and mis- cellaneous writer was born in the end of December, 1805. He originally studied for the law, but instead of entering the profession of a lawyer, he made the dangerous choice of authorship, and adhered to it for the rest of his life. It was unfortunate that this choice was made at so early a period, as his excel- lent natural talents were not directed by a literary education or extensive reading, by which he might have won both distinction and success. Having thrown himself into the tide with all the generous enthusiasm of youth, he was borne along in its whirl, and in the career that awaited him it was much that he was enabled to keep his head above water, educate his family for a life of respectability and comfort. As a literary adventurer thus circumstanced, he was everything by turns — editor or sub-editor ot newspapers, publishers' literary assistant, o 1 or author of histories and biographies, or occa>ii mally publishing a work at his own ri>k ; while his - of operation in these different capacities was • times London, sometimes Fdinburgh, and occa-ii n- ally the provincial towns of England and So I Like many in a similar situation, he had no in dent choice either of locality for his resi lence 1 r subject for his pen, and in both cases was ir and fro by the requirements of the ;. r< -- 1 gagement of his publisher. But bravely he out this battle of life from youth to ol 1 age: an when his body was racked out n| : ::.. \ an ex- cruciating malady that had wa>ted ' r year-. and when his mind wa? y ever- ting disappointment, he was still ::...:-:.. v.-. sud 44 ALEXANDER ARBUTHNOT JOHN ARBUTHXOT. ready for a fresh attempt in authorship, and still hopeful of the result. Even those who knew no- thing of him save his indomitable perseverance, won- dered that it could still make head against such ad- verse circumstances. Visited at last by heart disease, the inevitable consequence of a body so distorted by rheumatism, he had nevertheless gone to London by sea, when he died suddenly on the 2d of August, 1S66, being a few days after his arrival there, and was buried in the cemetery of Highgate. The last and also the largest and best work writ- ten by Mr. Anderson, and the one through which his name will longest survive, is that called The Scot- tish Nation^ published by the Messrs. Fullarton, Edinburgh, in three large volumes imperial 8vo. It is not only a biographical record of eminent Scots- men, but a history of the Scottish clans and dis- tinguished families, and contains a mass of valuable information, which tiie author was employed many years in collecting. In all his multifarious prose writings, although most of them were written for the day and upon the spur of urgency, Mr. Anderson's style was always distinguished by its elegance and correctness, it^ clearness and force. Under happier circumstances, it was evident from these that he might have held a distinguished place in authorship. In conversation his wit was remarkable, whether telling a story or making an observation, and it as- sumed every variety of character from the light and comic to the caustic and severe. Poetry, however, had been the chief object from the beginning of Mr. Anderson's literary affections, and he only abandoned it with reluctance, when the ex- perience of years showed him that it was an unpro- fitable resource, except to those who had leisure and talent to reach the loftier summits of Parnassus. His chief poetical publications were a small volume of short poems and songs written in earlv life — among which are some of high merit, so that they have been published in some of our best popular col- lections; and landscape Lyrics, written in matured life, and which he always regarded as the best of his poetical productions. ARBUTHNOT. Alexander, an eminent divine of the reign of James VI., son of the laird of Arbuthnot, was bom in the year 1538. Having studied languages and philosophy in the university of Aberdeen, and civil law under the famous Cujacius at Bourges in France, lie took ecclesiastical orders, and became in his own country a zealous supporter of the Reformation. The period of his entrance into public life was 1503, when Queen Mary was in pos- session of the kingdom. His eminent abilities and acquirements pointed him out. young as he was, as a leading man in the church, and accordingly he took a prominent part in several (ieneral Assemblies. In that of 150S he was appointed by his brethren to examine a work entitled 'flu- /-'all of lit,- Roman Chunk, which was objected to because it styled the king the head of the church. Tile result of his deliberations was an order to Bassandvne, the printer, not to print any more books till he had ex- punged this passage, and also taken away a lewd song which he had published at the end of an edition of the Psalms. The assembly also ordered that henceforth no book should be published till licensed by their commission. "Thus," it ha- been re- marked, "the reformed clergy, who owed their emancipation to the right of pnvate judgment, with strange inconsistency obstructed the progress of free inquiry by taking upon themselves the regulation of the press." Arbuthnot was soon after appointed mini tci ol the parishes of Arbuthnot and Logie-Buchan, and in 1569 he became principal of the university of Aberdeen. He was a member of the General Assembly held at St. Andrews in 1572, in which strenuous opposition was made to a scheme of church- government called the Book of Policy, which was invented by certain statesmen, at the head of whom was the Regent Morton, to restore the old titles of the church, and by means of titular incumbents, retain all the temporalities among themselves. In the General Assemblies held at Edinburgh in 1573 and 1577, Arbuthnot was chosen moderator; and he appears to have been constantly employed, on the part of the church, in the commission for conduct- ing the troublesome and tedious contest with the regency concerning the plan of ecclesiastical govern- ment to be adopted in Scotland. This commission, under the name of the Congregation, at length absorbed so much power, that the assembly was left little to do but to approve its resolutions. The part which Arbuthnot took in these affairs gave offence to James VI., and the offence was increased by the publication of Buchanan's History, of which Arbuthnot was the editor. It was therefore resolved to restrain him by an oppressive act of arbitrary power; and a royal order was issued, forbidding him to absent himself from his college at Aberdeen. The clergy, who saw that the design of this order was to deprive them of the benefit of Arbuthnot's services, remonstrated: the king, however, remained inflexible, and the clergy submitted. This persecu- tion probably affected Arbuthnot's health and spirits; for the next year, 1583, he fell into a gradual decline and died. Arbuthnot appears to have possessed much good sense and moderation, and to have been well qualified for public business. His knowledge was various and extensive; he was a patron of learning; and at the same time that he was active in promoting the interests of the reformed church, he contributed to the revival of a taste for literature in Scotland. The only prose production which he has left, is a learned and elegant Latin work, entitled Orationcs de Orighie ct Dignitate Juris [Orations on the Origin and Dignity of the Law], which was printed in 4to at Edinburgh in I57 2 - Eor some specimens of vernacular poetry, supposed to be his composition, we may refer to Irving's Lives of the Scottish J'octs, and M'Crie's Life of Andrew Melville. His character has received a lasting eulogy, in the shape of an epitaph, from the pen of his friend Melville. See Delitia: Poctarnm Scotorum, ii. p. 120. ARBUTHNOT, John, M.D., one of the con- stellation of wits in the reign of Queen Anne, and the most learned man of the whole body, was the son of a Scottish clergyman, who bore a near rela- tionship to the noble family of this name and title. He Mas born at Arbuthnot in Kincardineshire, soon after the Restoration, and received his education at the university of Aberdeen, where he took the degree of M.I). The father of Arbuthnot was one of those members of the Church of Scotland who, not being able to comply with the Presbyterian system introduced at the Revolution, were obliged to resign their charges. He retired to a small estate, which he- possessed by inheritance; while his sons, finding their prospects blighted in their own country, were under the necessity of going abroad to seek their fortune. John carried his Jacobitism, his talents, and his knowledge of physic to London, where he at first subsisted as a teacher of mathe- matics. His first literary effort bore a reference to thi;, science: it was an Examination of Dr. Wood- JOHN ARBUTHNOT. AS ward's Account of the Deluge, a work which had been published in 1695, anc * wh'ch, in Dr. Arbuth- not's estimation, was irreconcilable with just philo- sophical reasoning upon mathematical principles. This publication, which appeared in 1697, laid the foundation of the author's literary reputation, which not long after received a large and deserved increase by his Essay on the Usefulness of Mathematical /.earning. The favour which he acquired by these publications, as well as by his agreeable manners and learned conversation, by degrees introduced him into practice as a physician. Being at Epsom when Prince George of Denmark was suddenly taken ill, he was called in, and had the good fortune to effect a cure. The prince immediately became his patron, and in 1709 he was appointed fourth physician in ordinary to the queen (Prince George's royal consort), in which situation he continued till her majesty's death in 1714. In 1704 Dr. Arbuthnot had been elected a member of the Royal Society, in conse- quence of his communicating to that body a most ingenious paper on the equality of the numbers of the sexes; a fact which he proved by tables of births from 1629, and from which he deduced the reason- able inference that polygamy is a violation of the laws of nature. In 17 10 he was elected a member of the Royal College of Physicians. This was the happy period of Dr. Arbuthnot's life. Tory principles and Tory ministers were now triumphant; he enjoyed a high reputation, a lucrative practice, and a most honourable preferment; he also lived in constant intercourse with a set of literary men, almost the greatest who had ever flourished in England, and all of whom were of his own way of thinking in regard to politics. This circle included Pope, Swift, Gay, and Prior. In 1 714 he engaged with Pope and Swift in a design to write a satire on the abuse of human learning in every branch, which was to have been executed in the humorous manner of Cervantes, the original inventor of this species of satire, under the history of feigned adven- tures. 'But the prosecution of this design was pre- vented by the queen's death, which lost Arbuthnot his situation, and proved a death-blow to all the political friends of the associated wits. In the dejection which befell them, they never went farther than an essay, chiefly written by Arbuthnot, under the title of the First Book of the Memoirs of Mart inns Scriblerus. "Polite letters," says Warburton in his edition of Pope's works, "never lost more than in the defeat of this scheme, in the execution of which, each of this illustrious triumvirate would have found exercise for his own particular talents; besides con- stant employment for those which they all had in common. Dr. Arbuthnot was skilled in everything which related to science; Mr. Pope was a master in the fine arts; and Dr. Swift excelled in a knowledge ot the world. Wit they had in equal measure; and this so large, that no age perhaps ever produced three men to whom nature had more bountifully be- I it, or art had brought it to higher perfection." We are told by the same writer that the Travels of Gullner and the Memoirs of a Parish Clerk were at first intended as a branch of the Memoirs of' erus. In opposition to what Warburton savs of the design, we may present what lohnson says of the execution. "These memoirs," savs the doctor, in hi- life of Pope, "extend only to the first part of a work projected in concert by Pope, Swift, and Arbuthnot. Their purpose was to censure the abuses of learning by a fictitious life of an infatuated scholar. They were dispersed; the design never was complete 1: and Warburton laments it- mis- carriage, as an ever.', very disastrous to polite letter-. If the whole may be estimated by this specimen, which seems to be the production of Arbuthnot, with a few touches by Pope, the want of more will not l>e much lamented; for the follies which the writer ridicules are so little practised, that they arc- not known; nor can the satire lx- understood but bv the learned. He raises phantoms of absurdity, and then drives them away. He cures diseases that were never felt. For this reason, this joint produc- tion of three great writers has never attained any notice from mankind." With the opinion of Dr. Johnson we entirely coincide, so far as the Scriblerus is concerned; but we think that Arbuthnot wa- unfortunate in the part of the design which he- selected, and that, in satirising more palpable follies, he might have been more successful. The success of Swift, in ridiculing mankind in general in his Gulliver, is surely a sufficient reason, if no other ex- isted, for the lamentation of Warburton. At the death of the queen, when it pleased the new government to change all the attendants of the court, the immortal suffered with the mortal; Arbuth- not, displaced from his apartments at St. James', took a house in Dover street, remarking philosophi- cally to Swift that he "hoped still to be able to keep a little habitation warm in town." His circumstances were never so prosperous or agreeable after this period. With the world at large, success makes merit — the want of it the reverse; and it is perhaps im- possible for human nature to think so highly of a man who has been improperly deprived of some external mark of distinction and honour, as of him who wears it without so much desert. The wit, left to his own resources, and with a rising family to support, seems to have now lived in some little embarrassment. In 1 7 1 7 Arbuthnot, along with Pope, gave assist- ance to Gay, in a farce entitled "Three Hours after Marriage," which, strange to say, was condemned the first night. A rival wit wrote upon this subject: — " Such were the wags who boldly did adventure To club a farce by tripartite indenture; But let them -hare their dividend of praise, And wear their own fool's cap instead of bays." In 1722 Dr. Arbuthnot found it necessary for his health to indulge in a visit to Bath. He was accom- panied on this occasion by a brother who was a banker at Paris, and whose extraordinary character called forth the following striking description from Pope: "The spirit of philanthropy, so long dead to our world, seems revived in him: he is a philosopher all fire; so warmly, nay so wildly, in the right, that he forces all others about him to be so too. and draws them into his own vortex. He i- a star that looks as if it were all on fire, but is all benignity. all gentle and beneficial influence. If there be other men in the world that would serve a friend, yet he is the only one. I believe, that could make e\ enemy serve a friend." About this time, the doctor thus described himself in a letter to Switt: "A- I r your humble servant, with a great -tone in his ::. .' kidney, and a family of men and women to pi for, he is a- cheerful in public affairs a- ever. Arbuthnot, in 1723. was chosen secoi the Royal College <>f l'hy-icir.:.-: in 17-7 ' made an Elect, and had the honour to pi Ilarveian oration for the year. In 17-7 ■"•■" peared his great and learned work, t of .Indent Coins, Weight . and M : . and exemflf i in •■/'.' He con- tinued to practise physic with g> lei-ure h< 111 s by writing 1 ' '■' ■' and humour. Air. >ult tl '■ : 4 6 JOHN ARBUTHNOT. which appeared in 1731, in the shape of an epitaph upon the infamous Colonel Charteris, and which we shall present in this place as perhaps the most favourable specimen of Dr. Arbuthnot's peculiar vein of talent: — "Here continueth to rot the body of Francis Charteris, who, with an inflexible constancy, and inimitable uniformity of life, persisted, in spite of age and infirmities, in the practice of every human vice; excepting prodigality and hypocrisy; his in- satiable avarice exempted him from the first, his matchless impudence from the second. Xor was he more singular in the undeviating pravityofhis man- ners, than successful in accumulating wealth; for, without trade or profession, without trust of public money, and without bribe-worthy service, he ac- quired, or more properly created, a ministerial estate. He was the only person of his time who could cheat with the mask of honesty, retain his primeval mean- ness when possessed of ten thousand a year, and, having daily deserved the gibbet for what he did, was at iast condemned to it for what he could not do. — Oh! indignant reader! Think not his life use- less to mankind ! Providence connived at his exe- crable designs, to give to after-ages a conspicuous proof and example of how small estimation is exor- bitant wealth in the sight of Cod, by his bestowing it on the most unworthy of all mortals." 1 Arbuthnot, about this time, wrote a very enter- taining paper on the Altercations or Scolding of the Ancients. In 1732 he contributed towards detecting ami punishing the scandalous frauds and abuses that had been carried on under the specious name of The Charitable Corporation. In the same year he pub- plished his Treatise on the Xature and Choice of Ali- ments, which was followed, in 1733, by his Essay on the Effects of Air on Human Bodies. He is thought to have been led to these subjects by the considera- tion of his own case — an asthma, which, gradually increasing with his years, became at length desper- ate and incurable. A little before his last publica- tion, he had met with a severe domestic affliction in the loss of his son Charles, "whose life," he says in a letter to Swift, "if it had so pleased Cod, he would willingly have redeemed with his own." He now retired in a >tate of great debility to Ilampstead; from whence, in a letter to Tope, July 17th, 1734, he give-, the following philosophic, and v\e may add, touching, account of his condition: — " I have little doubt of your concern for me, nor of that of the lady you mention. I have nothing to repay my friends with at present, but prayers and go »(1 wishes. I have the satisfaction to find that I am as officiously served by my friends, as he that 1 I hi. parag >n of wii kedness, who was a native of Scotland, '* < ; > i; - • 1'ope, hut we lielicvc. as in the epitaph itself, with inti<:h exaggeration. " i-'r.mcis Charteris, a man When he was an en ign in the amp.-, he was drummed out "f the regiment for a cheat; lie was '• Brussels, . n of ( ihent, on the same :. After a hun Ircd trCk. at the gaming-tables, he it ex Habitant intere i. an.', on great ting premium, interest, and capital into a • ,' t 1 a minute when the payment liecnmc a w ird, by a constant attention to the vices, wants, ..•) : f Hie - ! mankin i. !.■• acquired an immense fortune. ' r rapes and pardoned, but the last • with mt imprisonment in Newgate, and large confisca- tions. He died in Si .tland in 17 ;i, >. The populace, at his funeral, raised a great riot, almost lore the- body out of the 1. .ffin, .,: I ■ gs, fie, into the grave along with it." We may add that the mourners had to defend themselves from the mob with th'.-ir swords, Sec 't'ratiitiom of Edin- burgh. One remarkable feature of Charteris' character is not lly known: though a bullv and a i ward, he had In. lighting days; he would suffer bun. elf t . lie kicked for refusing ,e day, and the next wou! I ace .; t another and J.ili J; is man. has thousands to leave in legacies; besides the assur- ance of their sincerity. Cod Almighty has made my distress as easy as a thing of that nature can be. I have found some relief, at least sometimes, frcm the air of this place. My nights are bad, but many poor creatures have worse." In a letter about the same time to Swift, he says he came to Ilampstead, not for life, but for ease. That he had gained in a slight degree from riding ; but he was "not in circumstances to live an idle country life ;" and he expected a return of the dis- order in full force on his return in winter to London. He adds, "I am at present in the case of a man that was almost in harbour, but was again blown back to sea; who has a reasonable hope of going to a good place, and an absolute certainty of leaving a very bad one. Not that I have any particular disgust at the world, for I have as great comfort in my own family, and from the kindness of my friends, as any man; but the world in the main displeaseth me; and I have too true a presentiment of cala- mities that are like to befall my country. However, if I should have the happiness to see you before I die, you will find that I enjoy the comforts of life with my usual cheerfulness. . . . My family give you their love and service. The great loss I sus- tained in one of them gave me my first shock; and the trouble I have with the rest, to bring them to a good temper, to bear the loss of a father who loves them, and whom they love, is really a most sensible affliction to me. I am afraid, my clear friend, we shall never see one another more in this world. I shall, to the last moment, preserve my love and esteem for you, being well assured that you will never leave the paths of virtue and honour for all that is in the world. This world is not worth the least deviation from that way," eve. In such a strain did this truly good man discourse of his own certain and immediate death, which accordingly took place. February, 1 735, in his house, Cork Street, Burling- ton Cardens, to which he had returned from Ilamp- stead at the approach of winter. Arbuthnot's character was given by his friend Swift in one dash: "He has more wit than we all have, and more humanity than wit." "Arbuthnot," says Dr. Johnson in his life of Pope, "was a man of great comprehension, skilful in his profession, versed in the sciences, acquainted with ancient literature, and able to animate his mass of knowledge by a bright and active imagination; a scholar with great brilliancy of wit; a wit who, in the crowd of life, re- tained and discovered a noble ardourof religious zeal.'" Lord Orrery has thus entered more minutely into his character: "Although he was justly celebrated for wit and learning, there was an excellence in his character more amiable than all his other qualifica- tions, I mean the excellence of his heart. He has shown himself equal to any of his contemporaries in wit and vivacity, and he was superior to most men in acts of humanity and benevolence. His very sar- casms are the satirical strokes of good nature: they are like slaps in the face given in jest, the effects of which may raise blushes, but no blackness will ap- pear after the blow. He laughs as jovially as an attendant upon bacclms, but continues as sober and considerate as a disciple of Socrates." '1 he wit, to which Swift's was only allowed the second place, was accompanied by a guileless heart, and the most perfect simplicity of character. It is related of d. possessor, that he used to write a hum- orous account of almost every remarkable event which fell under his observation, in a folio book. which lay in his parlour; but so careless was he about his writings after he was done with them, that. JOHN ARMSTRONG. 47 while he was writing towards one end of this work, he would permit his children to tear out the leaves from the other, for their paper kites. This care- lessness has prevented many of the works of Dr. Arhuthnot from being preserved, and no correct list has ever been given. A publication in two volumes, 8vo, at Glasgow, in 1751, professing to be his Mis- cellaneous Works, was said by his son to consist chiefly of the compositions of other people. He was S ) much in the habit of writing occasional pieces anonymously, that many fugitive articles were erro- neously attributed to him: he was at first supposed to be the author of Robinson Crusoe. He scarcely ever spoke of his writings, or seemed to take the least interest in them. He was also somewhat in- dolent. Swift said of him, that he seemed at first sight to have no fault, but that he could not walk. Besides this, he had too much simplicity and worth to profit by the expedients of life: in Swift's words, " He knew his art, but not his trade." Swift also must be considered as insinuating a certain levity of feeling, with all his goodness, when he says, in anticipation of his own death, " Poor Pope will grieve a month, and Gay A week, and Arbuthnot a day !" though the habitual cheerfulness of his disposition may have been all that the poet had in his eye. The only other work ascertained as Arbuthnot's, besides those mentioned, is the celebrated History of John Bull, a political allegory, which has had many imitations, but no equal. He also attempted poetry, though without any particular effort. A philosophical poem, of his composition, entitled "TNOei 2EATT0N" [Know Yourself], is printed in Dodsley's Miscellanies. He left a son, George, who was an executor in Pope's will, and who died in the enjoyment of a lucrative situation in the ex- chequer office towards the end of the last century; and a daughter, Anne, who was honoured with a legacy by Pope. His second son, Charles, who died before himself, had been educated in Christ Church College, Oxford, and entered into holy orders. ARGYLE. See Campbell. ARMSTRONG, Jons, M.D., author of the well-known poem entitled Tlie Art of Preserving Health, was born, about 1709, in the parish of Castleton, Roxburghshire, where his father and brother were successively ministers. He might almost be styled a poet by right of birthplace, for the parish of Castleton is simply the region of Liddesdale, so renowned for its heroic lays, the records of deeds performed by the Border reivers, among whom the family of the poet bore a distin- guished rank. The rude and predatory character of this district had, however, passed away before the commencement of the eighteenth century; and young Armstrong, though his lullabies were no doubt those fine old ballads which have since been published by Sir Walter Scott, seems to have drawn from them but little of his inspiration. It was as yet the fashion to look upon legendary verses as only fit for nurses and children; and nothing was thought worthy of the term poetry, unless it were presented in trim artificial language, alter the manner of some distinguished classic writer. It i> therefore by no means surprising that Armstrong, though born' and cradled in a land full of beautiful traditionary poetrv, looked upon it all, after he had become an educated man, as only Doric trash, and found his Tempe in the bowers of Twickenham instead of the lonelv heaths of Liddesdale. Being educated for the medical profession at the university of Edinburgh, under the elder Monro, Armstrong, in 1732, took his degree as M.D. with much reputation, the subject of his treatise being Tabes I'urulenta. He had ere this period addicted himself to the composition of verses. We are in- formed that, to relieve the tedium of a winter spent in "a wild romantic country" — probably Liddesdale — he wrote what he intended for an imitation of Shakspeare, but which turned out to resemble rather the poem of Winter, then just published by Thomson. The bard of the Seasons, hearing of this composition, which so strangely and so accident- ally resembled his own, procured a sight of it by means of a mutual friend, and, being much pleased with it, brought it under the notice of Mr. David Mallet, Mr. Aaron Hill, and Dr. Young, all of whom joined with him in thinking it a work of genius. Mallet even requested the consent of the author to its publication, and undertook that duty, though he afterwards gave up the design. Armstrong was probably led by this flattering circumstance to try his fortune in London, where his countrymen Thomson and Mallet had already gained literary distinction. In 1735 he is found publishing, in that capital, a humorous attack upon empirics, in the manner of Lucian, entitled^;/ Essay for Abridg- ing the Study of Physic, to which is added, A Dialogue betwixt Hygeia, Mercury, and Pluto, relating to the Practice of Physic, as it is managed by a certain illustrious Society; and an epistle from Usbeck the Persian to Joshua Ward, Esq. The essay, besides its sarcastic remarks on quacks and quackery, con- tains many allusions to the neglect of medical edu- cation among the practising apothecaries; but the author had exhausted his wit in it, and the dialogue and epistle are consequently flat and insipid. In 1737 he published a serious professional piece, styled A Synopsis of the History and Cure of tin Venereal Disease, 8vo, inscribed in an ingenious dedication to Dr. Alexander Stuart, as to "a person who had an indisputable right to judge severely of the performance presented to him.'' He probably designed the work as an introduction to practice in this branch of the medical profession; but it was unfortunately followed by his poem entitled 7 hi Economy of Love, which, though said to have been designed as merely a burlesque upon certain didactic writers, was justly condemned for its warm and alluring pictures, and its tendency to inflame the passions of youth. It appears by one of the "cases of literary property," that Andrew Millar, the book- seller, paid fifty pounds for the copyright of this poem; a sum ill-gained, for the work greatly dim- inished the reputation of the author. After it had passed through many editions, he published one, :;i 176S, in which the youthful luxuriances that had given offence to better minds were carefully ] : But the offence had been already perpetrate I, it was too late to undo it. In 1744 Dr. Armstrong made some amends ! this indiscretion, by publishing The Art cj P> ing Health, a didactic poem in blink verse, extend- ing through four books, each of which cor.:. particular branch of the subject. This very torious work raised his reputation to a height vim his subsequent efforts scarcely si:>taincd. I: written in a ta-te which would not now be o n» very jure or elegant; but yet, when the - the age are considered, there is ama/ii\L be condemned. Dr. Warton has ju-tl) ' the refined terms in which the p >et. at :' third book, has d, 1 fifteenth century, entitled "the sweating -:ck:.<.s-. 4S JOHN ARMSTRONG. "There is a classical correctness and closeness of style in this poem," says Dr. Warton, "that are truly admirable, and the subject is raised and adorned by numberless poetical images." Dr. Mackenzie, in his History of Health, bestowed similar praises on this poem, which was indeed everywhere read and admired. In 1 741 Armstrong solicited the patronage of Dr. Birch, to be appointed physician to the fleet then about to sail for the West Indies; but he does not seem to have obtained the object of his desire. In 1746, when established in reputation by his A rt of Preserving Health, he was appointed one of the physicians to the hospital for lame and sick soldiers behind Buckingham House. In 1751 he published his poem on Beneivlence, in folio, a production which seems to have come from the heart, anil contains sentiments which could have been expressed with equal ardour only by one who felt them. His 'fasti-, an Epistle to a Young Critic, 1753, 4to, is a lively and spirited imitation of Tope, and the first production in which Armstrong began to view men and manners with a splenetic eye. His next work was less meri- torious. It was entitled Sketches or Essays on Various Subjects, and appeared under the fictitious name of Lancelot Temple, Esq. The critical examinators of Dr. Armstrong^ merits allow to this work the credit of exhibiting much humour and knowledge of the world, but find it deformed by a perpetual flow of affectation, a struggle to say smart things, and, above all, a disgusting repetition of vulgar oaths and exclamations — forms of expression to which the poet, it seems, was also much addicted in conversation. In some of these sketches, Armstrong is said to have had assistance from the notorious John Wilkes, with whom he lived in habits of intimacy; but it is certain that the contributions of this gentleman cannot have been great, as the work is much inferior to the literary style of the demagogue of Aylesbury, who, whatever might be his moral failings, is allowed to have had a chaste classical taste, and a pure vein of humour. Armstrong had sufficient professional interest in 1760 to obtain the appointment of physician to the army in Germany. From that country he wrote Day, a Poem, addressed as an epistle to John Wilkes, Esq. This lively piece, which professes to embody an account of all the proper indulgences, moral and physical, of twenty-four hours, was, it is said, pub- lished in an imperfect shape, by some clandestine editor. It was never added to the collected works of Dr. Armstrong till Dr. Anderson admitted it into his edition of the British Poets. After the peace of 17115, Dr. Armstrong returned to London, and re- sumed his practice, but with no eager desire of in- creasing the moderate competency he now enjoyed. He continued after this period rather to amuse than to ex -rt himself in literary productions, chiefly spend- ing his time in the society of men of wit and taste like himself. In I 77 1 lie made a tour into fiance and Italy, in company with the celebrated Fuseli, who survived him for nearly fifty years, and always spoke highly of Dr. Armstrong's amiable character. In Italy he took a tender farewell of his friend Smollett, to whom he was much attached, and who died soon after. On returning home he published an ace unit of his travels, under the name of Lance- lot Temple The latter years of Dr. Armstrong's life were embittered by one of those quarrels which, arising between persons formerly much attached, are at once the most envenomed and the most productive of uneasiness to the parties. In hi^ poem of /Jay, he had asked, among other things, " What cra*y scribbler reigns the present wit?'' which the poet Churchill very properly took to him- self, and resented in the following passage in his poem of Tlte Journey:— " Let them with Armstrong, taking leave of sense, Read musty lectures on Benevolence; Or con the pages of his gaping Day, 1 Where all his former fame was thrown away, Where all but barren labour was forgot, Ami the vain stiffness of a lettered Scot; Let them with Armstrong pass the term of light, lint not one hour of darkness; when the night Suspends this mortal coil, when memory wakes, When for our past misdoings conscience takes A deep revenge, when by reflection led She draws his curtains, and looks comfort dead, Let every muse be gone; in vain he turns, And tries to pray for sleep; an Etna burns, A more than Etna in his coward breast, And guilt, with vengeance armed, forbids to rest; Though soft as plumage from young Zephyr's wing, His couch seems hard, and no relief can bring; Ingratitude hath planted daggers there, No good man can deserve, no brave man bear." We have no hesitation in saying that this severe satire was not justified either by the offence which called it forth or by the circumstances on which it was founded. Wilkes, the associate of Churchill, had lent money to Armstrong on some occasion of peculiar distress. When the attacks of Wilkes upon Scotland led to animosities between the two friends, it was not to be expected that the recollection of a former obligation was necessarily to tie up the natural feelings of Dr. Armstrong, and induce him to submit rather to the certain charge of meanness of spirit, than the possible imputation of ingratitude. Neit 1 er could Wilkes have fairly expected that the natural course of the quarrel was to be stayed by such a submission on the part of his former friend. It would have been equally mean for the obliged party to have tendered, and for the obliging party to have accepted, such a submission. There can be no doubt, therefore, that Dr. Armstrong, in giving way to resentment against Wilkes, was chargeable, properly, with no blame except that of giving way to resentment; and if it is to be supposed, from the character of the poet in respect of irritability, that the resentment would have taken place whether there had been a debt of kindness standing undis- charged between the parties or not, we cannot really see how this contingent circumstance can enhance his offence. There is unfortunately too great reason to suppose, that if the obligation tended to increase the blame of either party, it was that of Wilkes, who, from almost incontestable evidence, appears to have made a most ungenerous use of the advantage he had ac- quired over his former friend. Not only must he bear a portion of the guilt of Churchill's satire, which could have only been written as a transcript of his feelings, and with his sanction, but he stands almost certainly guilty of a still more direct and scurrilous attack upon Dr. Armstrong, which appeared in a much more insidious form. This was a series ol articles in the well-known Public Advertiser, com- mencing with a letter signed Dies, which appeared to proceed from an enemy of the patriot, but, in the opinion of Dr. Armstrong, was written by the patriot himself. Armstrong died at his house in Russel Street, Covent Garden, September 7, 1779, in consequence of an accidental contusion in his thigh, received while getting into a carriage, lie was found, to the surprise of the world, to have saved the sum of fzexx) mi! of his moderate income, which for many ['hi poem was full of large hi;itus supplied by asterisks. HUGO ARNOT. 49 years had consisted of nothing more than his half- pay. Dr. Armstrong was much beloved and respected by his friends for his gentle and amiable dispositions, as well as his extensive knowledge and abilities; but a kind of morbid sensibility preyed upon his temper, and a languid listlessness too frequently interrupted his intellectual efforts. With Thomson's Castle of Indolence he is appropriately connected, both as a figure in the piece and as a contributor to the verse. The following is his portraiture:— With him was sometimes joined in silent walk Profoundly silent -for they never spoke,, One shyer still, who quite detested talk; Oft stung by spleen, at once away he broke. To groves of pine, and broad o'ershadowing oak, There, inly thrilled, he wandered all alone, And on himself his pensive fury wroke: He never uttered word, save, when first shone The glittering star of eve — " Thank heaven! the day is done!" His contributions consist of four stanzas descriptive of the diseases to which the votaries of indolence finally become martyrs. The rank of Dr. Armstrong as a poet is fixed by his Art of Preserving Health, which is allowed to be among the best didactic poems in the language. It is true this species of poetry was never considered among the highest, nor has it been able to retain its place among the tastes of a modern and more refined age. Armstrong, however, in having improved upon a mode of composition fashionable in his own time, must still be allowed considerable praise. "His style," according to the judgment of Dr. Aikin, "is distinguished by its simplicity — by a free use of words which owe their strength to their plainness — by the rejection of ambitious ornaments, and a near approach to common phraseology. His sentences are generally short and easy; his sense clear and obvious. The full extent of his conceptions is taken in at the first glance; and there are no lofty mysteries to be unravelled by a repeated perusal. What keeps his language from being prosaic, is the vigour of his sentiments. He thinks boldly, feels strongly, and therefore expresses himself poetically. When the •subject sinks, his style sinks with it; but he has for the most part excluded topics incapable either of vivid description or of the oratory of sentiment. He had from nature a musical ear, whence his lines are scarcely ever harsh, though apparently without much study to render them smooth. On the whole, it may not be too much to assert, that no writer in blank verse can be found more free from stiffness and affectation, more energetic without harshness, and more dignified without formality." ARNOT, Hugo, a historical and antiquarian writer of the eighteenth century, was the son of a merchant and ship-proprietor at Leith, where lie was born, December 8th, 1749. His name originally was Pollock, which he changed in early life for Arnot, on falling heir, through his mother, to the estate of Balcormo in Fife. As "Hugo Arnot of Balcormo, F,sq.," he is entered as a member of the Faculty of Advocates, December 5, 1772, when ju>t about to complete his twenty-third year. Previous to this period he had had the misfortune to lose his father. Another evil which befell him in early life was a settled asthma, the result of a severe cold which he caught in his fifteenth year. As this dis- order was always aggravated by exertion of any kind, it became a serious obstruction to his progress at the bar: some of his pleadings, nevertheless, were much admired, and obtained for him the applause of the bench. Perhaps it was this interruption of his pro- vul. 1. fessional career which caused him to turn his atten- tion to literature. In 1779 appeared his History of Edinburgh, I vol. 4to, a work of much research, and greatly superior in a literary point of view to the generality of local works. The style of the historical part is elegant and epigrammatic, with a vein of causticity highly characteristic of the author. From this elaborate work the author is said to have only realized a few pounds of profit; a piratical impression, at less than half the price, was published almost simultaneously at Dublin, and, being shipped over to Scotland in great quantities, completely threw the author's edition out of the market. A bookseller's second edition, as it is called, appeared after the author's death, being simply the remainder of the former stock, embellished with plates, and enlarged by some additions from the pen of the publisher, Mr. Creech. Another edition was published in 8vo, in 1817. Mr. Arnot seems to have now lived on terms of literary equality with those distinguished literary and professional characters who were his fellow-towns- men and contemporaries. He did not, however, for some years, publish any other considerable or acknow- ledged work. He devoted his mind chiefly to local subjects, and sent forth numerous pamphlets and newspaper essays, -which had a considerable effect in accelerating or promoting the erection of various public works. The exertions of a man of his public spirit and enlarged mind, at a time when the capital of Scotland was undergoing such a thorough reno- vation and improvement, must have been of material service to the community, both of that and of all succeeding ages. Such they were acknowledged to be by the magistrates, who bestowed upon him the freedom of the city. We are told that Mr. Arnot, by means of his influence in local matters, was able to retard the erection of the South Bridge of Edin- burgh for ten years — not that he objected to such an obvious improvement on its own account, but only in so far as the magistrates could devise no other method for defraying the expense than by a tax upon carters; a mode of liquidating it which Mr. Arnot thought grossly oppressive, as it fell in the first place upon the poor. lie also was the means of prevent- ing for several years the formation of the present splendid road between Edinburgh and Leith, on account of the proposed plan (which was afterwards unhappily carried into effect) of defraying the expense by a toll; being convinced, from what he knew ot local authorities, that, if such an exaction were once established, it would always, on some pretext or other, be kept up. In 1785 Mr. Arnot published A Collection of Celebrated Criminal Trials in Scotland, -with Histori- cal and Critical Remarks. 1 vol. 4to; a work of per- haps even greater research than his History oj Edin- burgh, and written in the same acutely metaphysical and epigrammatic style. In the front of this volume appears a large list of subscribers, embracing almost all the eminent and considerable persons in Scotland.^ with many of those in England, and testifying ot_ course to the literary and personal respectability ot Mr. Arnot. This work appeared without a pub- lisher's name, probably for some reason connects i with the following circumstance. Owing perhaps to the unwillingness of the author to allow a - profit to the booksellers, the whole body ot that trade in Edinburgh refused to let the subs* papers and prospectuses hang in their - ■ ; -; ■ r which reason the author announced, by 11 advertisement in the new-paper-, that tin - art 1 • - might be seen in the coffee-house-. Mr. An ceived the sum of >ix hundred poun Is 5° HUGO ARXOT SIR ROBERT AYTOX. sold of this work, from which he would have to pay the expenses of printing a thin quarto: it thus hap- pened that what was rather the least laborious of his two works was the most profitable. Mr. Arnot only survived the publication of his Criminal Trials about a twelvemonth. The asthma had ever since his fifteenth year been making rapid advances upon him, and his person was now reduced almost to a shadow. While still young, he carried all the marks of age, and accordingly the traditionary recollections of the historian of Edinburgh always ]>oint to a man in the extreme of life. Perhaps no- thing could indicate more expressively the miserable state to which Mr. Arnot was reduced by this disease, than his own half-ludicrous, half-pathetic exclama- tion, on being annoyed by the bawling of a man selling sand on the streets: '"The rascal!" cried the unfortunate invalid, "he spends as much breath in a minute as would serve me for a month !" Among the portraits and caricatures of the well-known John Kay may be found several faithful, though somewhat exaggerated, memorials of the emaciated person of Hugo Arnot. Asa natural constitutional result of this disease, he was exceedingly nervous, and liable to be discomposed by the slightest annoyances: on the other hand, he possessed such ardour and intre- pidity of mind, that in youth he once rode on a spirited horse to the end of the pier of Leith, while the waves were dashing over it and every beholder expected to see him washed immediately into the sea! On another occasion, having excited some hostility by a political pamphlet, and being summoned by an anonymous foe to appear at a particular hour in a lonely part of the King's Park, in order to fight, he went and waited four hours on the spot, thus perilling his life in what might have been the ambuscade of a deadly enemy. By means of the same fortitude of character he beheld the gradual approach of death with all the calmness of a Stoic philosopher. The magistrates of Leith had acknowledged some of his public services by the ominous compliment of a piece of ground in their churchyard ; and it was the recreation of the last weeks of Mr. Arnot's life to go every day to observe the progress made by the work- men in preparing this place for his own reception. It is related that he even expressed considerable anxiety lest his demise should take place before the melancholy work should be completed. He died November 20th, 1786, when on the point of com- pleting his thirty-seventh year; that age so fatal to men of genius that it may almost be styled their climacteric. lie was interred in the tomb fitted up by himself at South Leith. Besides his historical and local works, he had published, in 1777, a fanciful metaphysical treatise, entitled Xothing, which was originally a paper read before a well-known debating-club styled the Specu- lative Society; luring probably suggested to him by the poem of the Karl of Rochester on the equally impalpable subject of Silence. If any disagreeable reflection can re^t on Mr. Arnot's memory for the free scop.- 1).- has given to his mind in this little essay— a freedom sanctioned, if not excused, by the taste of the age he must be held to have made all the amends in his power by the propriety of his deportment in later life; when he entered heartily and regularly into the observances of the Scot- tish Episcopal communion, to which he originally belonged, if Mr. Arnot was anything decidedly in politics, he was a Jacobite, to which party he be- longed by descent and by religion, and also perhaps by virtue of his own peculiar turn of mind. In modern politics he was quite independent, judging all men and all measures bv no other standard than their respective merits. In his professional character he was animated by a chivalrous sentiment of honour worthy of all admiration. He was so little of a casuist, that he would never undertake a case unless he were perfectly self-satisfied as to its justice and legality. He had often occasion to refuse employ- ment which fell beneath his own standard of honesty, though it might have been profitable, and attended by not the slightest shade of disgrace. On a case being once brought before him, of the merits of which he had an exceedingly bad opinion, he said to the intending litigant, in a serious manner, " Pray, what do you suppose me to be?" " Why," answered the client, " I understand you to be a lawyer." " I thought, sir," said Arnot sternly, " you took me for a scoundrel." The litigant, though he perhaps thought that the major included the minor proposition, withdrew abashed. Mr. Arnot left eight children, all very young; and the talent of the family appears to have revived in a new generation, viz. in the person of his grandson, Or. David Boswell Reid, whose Elements of Chemistry has taken its place amongst the most useful treatises on the science, and who was selected by government, on account of his practical skill, to plan and superintend the ven- tilation of the new houses of parliament, in the prosecution of which object he for several years conducted the most costly and prolonged, if not the most successful, experiment of the kind ever made. AYTON, Sir Robert, an eminent poet at the court of James VI., was a younger son of Andrew Ayton of Kinaldie, in Life, and was born in the year 1570. From the registers of St. Andrews uni- versity, it appears that he was incorporated or en- rolled as a student in St. Leonard's College, De- cember 3, 1584, and took his master's degree, after the usual course of study, in the year 1588. Sub- sequently to this, he resided for some time in France; whence, in 1603, he addressed an elegant panegyric in Latin verse to King James, on his accession to the crown of England, which was printed at Paris the same year; and this panegyric had no doubt some influence in securing to the author the favour of that monarch, by whom he was successively ap- pointed one of the gentlemen of the bed-chamber, and private secretary to his queen, Anne of Denmark, besides receiving the honour of knighthood. He was, at a later period of his life, honoured with the appointment of secretary to Henrietta Maria, queen of Charles I. It is recorded on Ayton's funeral monument, as a distinction, that he had been sent to Germany as ambassador to the emperor, with a work published by King James, which is supposed to have been his Apology for the Oath of Allegiance. If this conjecture be correct, it must have been in 1609, when his majesty acknowledged a work pub- lished anonymously three years before, and inscribed it to all the crowned heads of Europe. During Ayton's residence abroad, as well as at the court of England, he lived in intimacy with and secured the esteem of the most eminent persons of the day. "He was acquainted," says Aubrey, "with all the wits of his time in England; he was a great acquaint- ance of Mr. Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbury, whom Mr. Hobbes told me he made use of, together with IJen Jonson, for an Aristarchus, when he made his epistle dedicatory for his translation of Thucydides." To this information we may add, as a proof of this respect on the part of Ben Jonson, that in his con- versations with Drummond of Hawthornden, he said, "Sir Robert Ayton loved him (Jonson) dearly." Sir Robert Ayton died at London, in March, 1637-S, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. He lies WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUXE AYTOUN. 5' buried in the south aisle of the choir of Westminster Abbey, at the corner of King Henry V.'s Chapel, under a handsome monument of black marble, erected by his nephew, David Ayton of Kinaldie; having his bust in brass gilt, which has been preserved, while that of Henry, the hero of Agincourt (said to have been of a more precious metal), has long since dis- appeared. The following is a copy of the inscrip- tion: M. S. Clarissimi omnigenaq. virtute et eniditione, prcesertim Poesi ornatissimi equitis, Domini Roberti Aitoni, ex antiqua et illustri gente Aitona, ad Castrum Kinnadinum apud Scotos, oriundi, qui a Serenissimo R. Jacobo in Cubicula Interiora admissus, in Germaniam ad Imperatorem, Imperiiq. Principes cum libello Regio, Regiae authoritatis yindice, Legatus, ac Sriimim Anna;, demuin Mari;c, serenissimis Britanniarum teginis ab epistolis, consiliis et libellis supplicibus, nee non Xenodochio S"* Catherinae praefectus. Anima Creatoris reddita, hie depositis mortalibus exuviis secundum Rcdemp- t oris adventum cxpectat. Carolum linquens, repetit Parcntem Et valedicens Marias revisit Annam et Aulai decus, alto Olympi Mutat Honore. Hoc devoti gratiq. animi Testimonium optimo Patruo Jo. Aitonus M L P. Obiit Coelebs in Regio Albaula Non sine maximo Honore omnium Luctu et Mcerore, /Etat. sua; LXVIII. Salut. Humana; M.DCXXXVIII. MuSARUM DECUS HIC, PaTRIAEQ. AfLAEQ. DoMIQCE Et Foris exemplar sed >«on imitabile honesti. The poems of Sir Robert Ayton, for the first time published together in the Miscellany of the Bannatyne Club (from which we derive these particulars of the poet's life), are few in number, but of great merit. He composed no Scottish poems, at least none that have come down to our times. He wrote in English, and was, indeed, one of the first of our countrymen who composed in that language with any degree of elegance or purity. It is unfortunate that the most of his poems are complimentary verses to the illus- trious individuals with whom he was acquainted, and of course characterized only by a strain of conceited and extravagant flattery. Those, however, upon general topics, are conceived in a refined and tender strain of fancy, that reminds us more of the fairy strains of Herrick than anything else. John Aubrey remarks, "that Sir Robert was one of the best poets of his time," and adds the more important testimony that "Mr. John Dryden has seen verses of his, some of the best of that age, printed with some other verses." According to Dempster, Ayton was also a writer of verses in Greek and French, as well as in English and Latin. Several of his Latin poems are preserved in the work called Delitia Poetarum Scotorum, which was printed in his lifetime (1637) at Amsterdam. AYTOUN, William Edmoxdstoune. This recent poet, essayist, popular lecturer, and professor, who in each attained to considerable distinction, was born in June, 1S13. His father was a writer to the signet, and was descended from an old and respect- able family in Fifeshire. The future professor was fir>t e lucate 1 at the Edinburgh Academy, where he was noted among Ids young compeers as an apt scholar; and afterwards at the university of Edin- burgh, where lie went through the usual curriculum. In this transit young Aytoun became the pupil of John'Wilson. professor of moral philosophy, in whom he found a kindred spirit, and of whom he subse- quently became the son-in-law and literary collabor- ateur; and in this class he distinguished himself at the early age of eighteen by his prize poem en- titled Judith. After finishing his course at college, Aytoun completed his studies in Germany, the liter- ature of which country had afterwards considerable influence on the spirit of his own writings. On his return to Edinburgh he passed as a writer to the signet, but not finding this a congenial occupation, he turned to the Scottish bar, to which he obtained admission in 1840. As an advocate, however, he had little opportunity of being distinguished as an eloquent pleader, being chiefly employed as counsel in criminal cases. His fame was chiefly confined to the outer or parliament-house, where he was noted as one of the wits of the day, and an eminent member of that light-hearted talented party of lawyers who were the successors of the "stove school." But such talents as his could not be confined to impromptu sayings, and satisfied with the applause they created; and he produced for the principal magazines con- tributions, both in prose and verse, which indi- cated a writer of no mean powers. While a contri- butor to Bait's Magazine, he also, in conjunction with his friend Theodore Martin, commenced the Bon Gnaltier Ballads, the best collection of that kind of poetry extant. The literary talents of Aytoun, which were now generally recognized, obtained him, in 1S39, a wel- come admission amongthecontributorsto Blackwood's Magazine; and in this distinguished periodical he soon found rivals to quicken his powers, as well as a sphere for their best exertions. It was there also that from time to time he published those stirring national odes which he afterwards gave to the world in a collective form, under the title of Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers. Like most young men of ardent feelings and literary acquirements, he at the com- mencement of life had entertained liberal sentiments in politics, which he afterwards saw fit to change; and this change, as is usually the case, was into a farther extreme on the opposite side than if he had been born and bred a Tory. The effects of this con- version are apparent in his Lays, where cavalier- devotedness in loyalty is as absolute as it is enthusi- astic, and the conclusive unanswerable argument of which is, "Thus saith the king." Such Jacobitism, however, in the nineteenth century is so rare, and withal so harmless, that its extravagance maybe par- doned on account of its singularity and its disinterested- ness. But still more ardent than his Jacobitism was his. enthusiastic Caledonian patriotism, that delighted to dwell upon the ancient remembrances of his coun- try, and which made him conspicuous as the champion of a party that lived for a brief period, and whose great demand was the redress of Scottish grievances. But the poetic element of his Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers is animated and inspired by either feeling, so that while I'he Heart of Bruce, and Bdn after Flodden, are lyrics ennobled by the purest national devotedness, his Buna! March of Dundee, and Charles Edward at Versailles, are all the more poetical from the fervour of the Jacobite spirit by which they are characterized. But it was not merely by his poetry that Aytoun became one of the most distinguished writers in Blaclxeced. His esr-av-. dissertations, and tales in that magazine were t popular; and few of its mirth-inspiring stories can compete with his Glenmutehkin /'■:.: ay, > r // zv became a 1 'coman. How assidm msly and exclr.sh 1 1\ his literary exertions were devoted to this ore peri- odical may be understood from the f: ' tl t, the vear 1S39, when he fir>t appeared in its pages. until 1S65. the year of his death, hi than 120 articles upon a great diversity 1 1 si: • '-. but all of them distinguish! 1 by > 11 excellence. While Ay • • was thus -■' !id reputation through a medium genera..; '.i.'.vg.i: so WILLIAM EDMOXDSTOUXE AYTOUX WILLIAM BALFOUR BAIKIE. precarious and evanescent as that of magazine writing, the chair of rhetoric and belles-lettres in the university of Edinburgh became vacant, and to this professor- ship he was appointed in 1S45. I* was a great change in the literary life of one who had hitherto frolicked over the whole field of intellect, and regu- lated his choice of subjects by the mood of the pass- ing hour. A systematic course of lectures was to Ik* delivered; but this was not all — he must train young tyros to accurate thought and correct graceful com- position, and bear with those blunders that set the teeth of a refined critic on edge. He must subject his pupils to daily oral examination, and revise their themes and essays pen in hand and with a patience all-enduring. But on the other hand, every depart- ment of his course was already familiar to his mind; in training the youthful intellect he could remember how his own had been matured; and while leading them by the same way, he could enjoy the luxury of living over again, and seeing himself reproduced anew in the pupils who walked in his steps. His assiduity, his patience, and his sympathy as a teacher, and the popularity and success with which they were crowned, very soon appeared. A chair which had hitherto been little regarded, became one of the most popular in the university; and his class-room, which at nr-.t comprised about thirty students, was at the close of his life attended by a hundred and fifty. The other particulars of Aytoun's life may be briefly enumerated. In 1849 he married Jane, the youngest daughter of Professor Wilson, who died ten years after. In 1852, on account of the services he had rendered as a writer to their party, Lord I )erby and his friends acknowledged their obligation by appointing him sheriff and vice-admiral of Orkney and Shetland; and the duties of these offices he carefully fulfilled, spending for the purpose a con- siderable portion of each summer in these islands. After four vears of widowhood, he, in December, 1S53, married Miss Kinnear, a near relative of his friends, the Balfours of Trennabie, in Orkney. As yet in the prime of life, a large amount of happiness was thought to be still in store for him: but in the winter of 1864 he sickened, his constitution was gradually undermined, and he died on the 4th of August, 1S65. During such varied activity of a literary life, and so prolific in its various productions, much that Mr. Aytoun wrote was upon subjects of political interest for the day, and therefore they have quietly dropped, or are dropping, out of notice. His tales, however, will always be appreciated as veritable pictures of human nature, and will show how high a place he would have occupied if he had devoted himself to this kind of literature. But it is as a poet that he will be best remembered, and his Lays and touching songs will be quoted when his political dissertations are forgot. While he lived, not the least of his literary distinctions arose from being supposed the editor of Blackivood , s Magazine, and that in this office he succeeded his father-in-law, Professor John Wilson. But that both suppositions were entirely unfounded has been declared by official authority in the following intimation: — " It was erroneously sup- posed in some quarters that Mr. Aytoun occupied the position of editor of this magazine. Indeed, it seems difficult to persuade our friends at a distance of what is well known to those nearer at hand, that the proprietors of this magazine have never, since its commencement, now nearly half a century ago, devolved upon others the powers or responsibilities of an editor. To this system, perhaps, they owe it that the magazine has preserved a uniform consis- tency of aim and purpose; and that, while warm in its advocacy of great views and principles, it has avoided those petty partizanships and predilections from which it is so difficult for an ordinary editor to keep free.'' 1 B. BAIKIE, William Balfour, M.D., R.N. The field of African exploration, although the most difficult and deadly, has always been the favourite choice of Scottish traveller-. And whence this peculiarity? It perhaps arises from the national character, which only becomes more resolute from opposition, and which scorns to succumb as long as there are dangers to surmount or difficulties to be overcome. Although almost everv new path of African discovery contains the grave of some un- fortunate Scottish explorer who died mid-wav, the lonely hillock only animates some successor to ac- complish what the other has left undone, instead of compelling him to pause and turn back. Among these martyrs of African discovery, the list for the nt terminates with the name of Dr. William Balfour Baikie. This lamented traveller was the son of Captain John Baikie, R.X., and was born at Kirkwall, Orkney, 1S20. After an education at the grammar- school of his native town, he went to Kdinburgh, studied medicine, and highly distinguished himself in the medical classes of the university. Having obtained the degree of M.I), he entered the royal navy as assistant-surgeon in March 15, 1S4S, and in this capacity served for some time in the I Wage, a survevin^ vessel in the Mediterranean. But it wa- in 1S55 that he was introduced to his proper voca- tion, by being sent out on board the Pleiad steamer as an accredited envoy of the British government, for the purpose of opening up the trade of the Niger, forming a trading settlement in the interior of Africa, and thus bringing the various Niger expedi- tions to a practical conclusion. It was while thus employed that the iron steamer Day Spring was lost in going through some of the rapids of the river; but this disaster, instead of discouraging Dr. Baikie, only made him more active and self-reliant. 1 laving saved all he could from the wreck, he took up his abode with the wild African tribes, and followed out his duties as a government commissioner by ex- ploring the country in every direction, and entering into binding engagements with the African chiefs and their people in relation to their traffic with the British. But while thus employed as a pioneer of commerce and civilization, and collecting vocabu- laries of the native languages for the purpose of facilitating the intercourse of Europeans with the natives, his supplies from home were exhausted, his horses died, and he soon found himself as bare and helpless as the most impoverished of our African travellers. Vet still zealous to prosecute his work, 1 / la Irwooifs Magazine for September, iSC WILLIAM BALFOUR BAIKIE JOANNA BAILLIE. 53 and another vessel, the Sunbeam, being sent to his relief, he settled at Lukoja, near the junction of the Chadda with the Niger. The account of it, given by Dr. Baikie in September, 1861, invests it with con- siderable mercantile importance. "The King of Niipe, the most powerful next to the Sultan of Sokoto, being desirous of seeing a market for Euro- pean produce here, entered into relations with us, and undertook to open various roads for the passage of caravans, traders, and canoes to this place, which promise has been faithfully performed; I, on my part, giving him to understand that it was the desire of her majesty's government to have a trading station here. ... I have started a regular market here, and have established the recognition of Sunday as a non-trad- ing day, and the exclusion of slaves from our market. Already traders come to us from Kabbi, Kano, and other parts of Hausa; and we hope, ere long, to see regular caravans with ivory and other produce. The step I am taking is not lightly adopted. After a prolonged absence from England, to stay another season here without any Europeans, with only a faint prospect of speedy communication, and after all my experience of hunger and difficulty last year, is by no means an inviting prospect. But what I look to are the securing for England a command- ing position in Central Africa, and the necessity of making a commencement." The most serious difficulty which Dr. Baikie had encountered arose from the precarious character of his official position. In consequence of the loss of the Pleiad and other disasters, the foreign office in i860 recalled the expedition to the Niger; but his unaided attempts had been so successful, and he had brought over so many African chiefs to his views by promises of British co-operation, that our govern- ment cancelled the recal, and ordered the expedition to be continued. Baikie was therefore enabled to continue the good work which he had commenced at his settlement of Lukoja; and after having seen it securely established, he craved leave of absence in October, 1S63. The wish he expressed was to see his aged father, from whom he had been absent seven years. In June, 1864, the foreign office assented, in the hope that in the following year he would return to his African settlement; and Dr. Baikie, eager to revisit his native home, arrived at Lagos in October. Had he immediately embarked for England as he had at first intended, and as he announced to hi^ expecting friends at home, his safety might have been insured. But the labour of arranging his African preparations occupied so much time, that the favourable opportunity was lost. Arriving at Sierra Leone, that place so fatal to European constitutions, he was attacked with illness which in two short days ended his adventurous career. Such is the brief narrative of one whose travels and exertions in Africa would of themselves suffice to fill a whole volume of interesting biography. But it was not in action alone that his energies were expended. His earnest studies in a climate so enervating and exhausting, his extensive geographical and physiological observations, his contributions to scientific societies, and his copious correspondence, would of themselves furnish an amount of knowledge about the people, climate, and productions of the interior of Africa as would vastly enrich the store- house of our African research. Nor were his labours less abundant in the African languages, so that his vocabularies of the Hausa, Pulo, and Fulfulde tongues comprise each of them between three and four thousand words. Out of so large a collection of manuscripts, an 1 where there is so ranch excellence from which to choose, we hope that a publication will l>e given as an enduring monument of the sterling worth of Dr. Baikie. This good work indeed is already in progress, his numerous journals descriptive of' his travels and researches, now in the foreign office, having been placed in the hands of Dr. Kirk, the accomplished African traveller, for revision and arrangement. The printed communications of Dr. Baikie are comprised in the following short list : — Despatches from of the Niger Expedition rein- tive to the Trade 0/ that River, and to the Eligibility of Central Africa as a future Cotton field. Map. Folio, 1862. (Blue Book.) — Report on the Geogra- phical Position of the Countries in the neighbourhood of the Niger, &c. Map. Folio, 1862. — Observations on the Hausa and Fulfulde Languages. Privately printed, 8vo, 1862. — A T arralive of an Exploring Voyage up the Rivers Kwdra and JSinue (commonly known as the Niger and Tsada), in 1854: 8vo, 1S56. BAILLIE, Joanna, authoress of Plays on the Passions, and various other dramatic works and poems, was born on September 11, 1762, in the manse of Bothwell in Lanarkshire. Her father, Dr. James Baillie, the minister of that parish, and sub- sequently professor of divinity in the university of Glasgow, sprang from a family allied to that of the celebrated Principal Robert Baillie, and likewise to that of the Baillies of Jerviswood, memorable in the history of Scotland. All these lines were derived from the ancient stem of the Baillies of Lamington. Her mother, also, was one of a race well known in Scottish heraldry, for she was descended from the Hunters of Hunterston, and was the sister of William and John Hunter, both renowned in the annals of science. The children, by the marriage of Dr. James Baillie with Miss Hunter, were Agnes; Matthew, afterwards the eminent physician; and Joanna, a twin — the other child being still-born. The early youth of Joanna Baillie was passed among the romantic scenes of Bothwell, where every element existed to awaken the fancy of the poet; but when she had attained her sixth year the family removed to Hamilton, to the collegiate church of which place her father had been appointed minister. During her childhood Joanna Baillie was not re- markable for acquirement, yet, nevertheless, showed much originality and quickness of intellect. She made verses before she could read, and soon mani- fested dramatic talent. She took even- opportunity of arranging among her young companions theatrical performances, in which her power of sustaining characters was remarkable, and she frequently wrote the dialogue herself. She was also conspicuous for fearlessness of disposition, which in after-years dis- played itself in moral courage — a virtue often pro- minent in her conduct. Notwithstanding the de- cided tendency of her mind, she did not become an author till at a later period than is usual with those who are subject to the strong impulses of genius. In 1778 her father died; and in 17S4. his wi I w, with her daughters, having lived for some years at Long Calderwood, near Hamilton, proceeded to London to reside with her son. who had there entered on his medical career, and wh . death of his uncle. Dr. William Hunter, had h possessed of the house in Great Windmill Street which the latter had built and in!;.-. 1 ' It was in this abode that Joanna Baillie. in 1 7 ■ \ first resolved upon publishing, an I I small volume of miscellaneous ; nem.-. t 1 wh: did not affix her name. These evim talent, but not the power she afterwards manilc-ted. In 179S she gave to the w rl 1, ah 1 an nyir. u.-fy, 54 JOANNA EAILLIE MATTHEW BAILLIE. her first volume of dramas, in which the true bent of her genius was fully seen. This was entitled A Series of Plays, in which it is attempted to Delineate the Stronger Passions of the Mind, each Passion being the subject of a Tragedy and a Cotncdy, and these were accompanied by an introductory discourse of some length, in which dramatic composition was discussed, in which, also, many original views were announced, together with the peculiar system she proposed to adopt. Rich though the period was in poetry, this work made a great impression, and a new edition of it was soon required. The writer was sought for among the most gifted personages of the day, and the illustrious Scott, with others then equally appre- ciated, was suspected as the author. The praise bestowed upon Basil and De Montforl encouraged the authoress, and in 1802, she published another volume of plays on the Passions. Although much objection was made to the opinions she had enunciated in the preface to her first dramas, and though the criticism from an influential quarter was severe, she adhered to her purpose, and continued to write on the same plan which she had at first evolved; for, in 1S12, she sent forth another volume of plays on the Passions, and in 1S36, three more volumes of plays, containing some in prosecution of her primary design, which she thus completed, and some on miscellaneous subjects. Besides those above-men- tioned, during the long period of her career she published various other dramas, and all her writings in this form exhibit great originality, power, and knowledge of human nature. Her works also are rich in imagery, and a pure and energetic strain of poetry pervades them. For the great effects she produced she was little indebted to study, of which her pages bear few indications. The characters she portrayed, the stories on which her plays were founded, and the management of them, proceeded almost entirely from her own invention. She was the authoress, also, of some poems, as well as songs, of high merit, among which may be especially men- tioned those well-known favourite Scottish ones entitled "The bride, she is winsome and bonnie," and '"It fell on a morning when we were thrang;" and the lyrical compositions scattered through her dramas are distinguished by their freshness and beauty. Some of her plays were represented on the stage, but without much success. Passion in them is forcibly and faithfully delineated, but without those startling and effective situations calculated to obtain theatrical triumph. Unmarried, and dwelling out of London, she had not those opportunities of frequenting the theatre which are necessary for the production of compositions popular in representation. It must be remembered, also, that female delicacy 1 daces a limit not only to the exuberance of passion, )Ut also to the choice of subjects, which interfered both with the force and variety of her plays. After Joanna I'.aillie had left Scotland, in 1784, she did not return to her native land except for occasional visits. Upon the marriage of her brother, in 1791, with Mi-s Denman, the sister of the Lord Chief-justice Denman, Joanna Haillic, witli her mother and sUter, passed some years at Colchester, but subsequently settled at Hampstead, near London, where she resided for more than half a centurv. Her mother died in 1806, and her sole companion during the remainder of her life was her sister, whose character, virtues, and claims upon the affections of the poetess are beautifully commem- orated by her in an address to Miss Agnes Haillic on her birth-day. The means of Joanna Haillic were sufficient for every comfort, and enabled her to see many of the most distinguished individuals the great metropolis contained, who, attracted by her high reputation, her perfect simplicity of manners, and the talent and shrewdness of her conversation, resorted freely to her home. Sir Walter Scott was one of her warmest friends and most ardent admirers, as many passages in his writings declare. Joanna Baillie was under the middle size, but not diminutive, and her form was slender. Her countenance indicated high talent, worth, and decision. Her life was characterized by the purest morality. Her principles were sustained by a strong and abiding sense of religion, while her great genius, and the engrossing pursuits of composi- tion, never interfered with her active benevolence or the daily duties of life. She died in her house, in Hampstead, on the 23d day of February, 1851. BAILLIE, Matthew, M.D., a distinguished modern physican and anatomist, was the son of the Rev. James Baillie, D.D., professor of divinity in the university of Glasgow. He was born October 27, 1761, in the manse of Shotts, of which parish his father was then minister. The father of Dr. Matthew Baillie was supposed to be descended from the family of Baillie of Jerviswood, so noted in the history of Scottish freedom; his mother was a sister of the two celebrated anatomists, Dr. William and Mr. John Hunter; and one of his two sisters was Miss Joanna Baillie, the well-known and amiable authoress of Plays on the Passions. After receiving the rudiments of his education under his father's immediate super- intendence, he began his academical course in 1773, in the university of Glasgow, where he distinguished himself so highly as to be transferred, in 1778, upon Snell's foundation, to Baliol College, Oxford. Here, when he had attained the proper standing, he took his degrees in arts and physic. In 1780, while still keeping his terms at Oxford, he commenced his anatomical studies at London, under the care of his uncles. He had the great advantage of residing with Dr. William Hunter, and, when he became suffi- ciently advanced in his studies, of being employed to make the necessary preparations for the lectures, to conduct the demonstrations, and to superintend the operations of the students. On the death of Dr. Hunter, March, 1783, he was found qualified to be- come the successor of that great man, in conjunction with Mr. Cruickshank, who had previously been employed as Dr. Hunter's assistant. His uncle appointed him by will to have the use of his splendid collection of anatomical preparations, so long as he should continue an anatomical lecturer, after which it was to be transferred to Glasgow College. Dr. Baillie began to lecture in 1784, and soon acquired the highest reputation as an anatomical teacher. He was himself indefatigable in the business of form- ing preparations, adding, it is said, no fewer than eleven hundred articles to his uncle's museum. He possessed the valuable talent of making an abstruse and difficult subject plain; his prelections were re- markable for that lucid order and clearness of ex- pression which proceed from a perfect conception of the subject; and he never permitted any vanity of display to turn him from his great object of convey- ing information in the simplest and most intelligible way, and so as to become useful to his pupils. The distinctness of his elocution was also much admired, notwithstanding that he never could altogether shake ofi the accent of his native country. In 1795 Dr. Haillic embodied the knowledge he possessed through his own observations and those of his uncle in a small but most valuable work, entitled The Morbid Anatomy of some of the most important Parts of the Human Body, which was immediately translated MATTHEW BAILLIE. into French and German, and extended his name to every land where medical science was cultivated. The publication of this little treatise was, indeed, an era in the history of medical knowledge in this country. It combined all the information formerly scattered through the writings of Bonetus, Lieutaud, and Montagni, besides the immense store of observa- tions made by the ingenious author. The know- ledge of the changes produced on the human frame by disease had previously been very imperfect; but it was now so completely elucidated that, with the assistance of this little volume, any person previously acquainted with morbid symptoms, but unacquainted with the disease, could, upon an examination after death, understand the whole malady. Perhaps no production of the period ever had so much influence on the study of medicine, or contributed so much to correct unfounded speculations upon the nature of disease, to excite a spirit of observation, and to lead the attention of the student to fact and experience. Along with all its excellencies, it was delightful to observe the extreme modesty and total absence of pretension with which the author, in the fulness of his immense knowledge, ushered it into the world. In 1787 Dr. Baillie had been elected physician to St. George's Hospital, a situation which afforded him many of those opportunities of observation upon which the success of his work on Morbid Ana- tomy was founded. In 1 789, having taken his degree of M.D. at Oxford, he was admitted a can- didate at the College of Physicians, and in the fol- lowing year had the full privileges of fellowship conferred upon him. About the same time he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society, to which he had contributed two essays. He served the office of censor in the Royal College of Physicians, in 1792 and 1797, and that of commissioner under the act of parliament for the inspection and licensing of mad-houses in 1794 and 1795. In 1799 Dr. Baillie relinquished the business of an anatomical lecturer, and in 1S00 resigned his duties as physician to St. George's Hospital. Partly by the influence of his fame as an anatomist, and partly through the disinterested recommendations of several members of his own profession, he found himself gradually tempted into the less agreeable business of a general physician. He was always resorted to when more than ordinary scientific pre- cision was required. About the year 1801, when he had attained the mature age of forty, he had be- come completely absorbed in practice. As a physi- cian, he possessed, in an eminent degree, a facility in distinguishing diseases — one of the most impor- tant qualifications in the practice of medicine, as a want of accuracy in discriminating symptomatic from primary affections leads to the most serious ermr-; whilst it may be said that, when a disease is once distinctly characterized, and the peculiarities of the case defined, the cure is half performed. Habits of attentive observation had enabled Dr. Baillie to know, with great accuracy, the precise extent of the powers of medicine; indeed, there was no class of cases more likely to fall under his observation than those in which they had been abused, younger prac- titioner- being apt to carry a particular system of treatment beyond its proper limits; Dr. Baillie's readiness, therefore, in seeing this abuse, rendered his opinions, in many cases, of great value. Vet he was always scrupulously anxious, through the natural benignity of his disposition, to use his knowledge with a delicate regard to the interests of those juniors whose procedure he was called upon to amend. He managed, indeed, this part of his practice with so much delicacy that he was held in the utmost affec- tion and esteem by the younger branches of the pro- fession. Dr. Baillie was remarkable for forming his judg- ment of any case before him from his own observa- tions exclusively; carefully guarding himself against any prepossessions from the opinions suggested by others. When he visited a patient, he observed him accurately, he listened to him attentively, he put a few pointed questions — and his opinion was formed. Beneath a most natural and unassuming manner, which was the same on all occasions, was concealed an almost intuitive power of perceiving the state of his patient. His mind was always quietly, but eagerly, directed to an investigation of the symptoms; and he had so distinct and systematic a mode of putting questions, that the answers of his patients often presented a connected view of the whole case. On such occasions, he avoided technical and learned phrases; he affected none of that sentimental tender- ness which is sometimes assumed by a physician with a view to recommend himself to his patient; but he expressed what he had to say in the simplest and plainest terms; with some pleasantry if the occasion admitted of it, and with gravity and gentleness if they were required; and he left his patient either encouraged or tranquillized, persuaded that the opinion he had received was sound and honest, whether it was unfavourable or not, and that his physician merited his confidence. In delivering or writing his opinions he was equally remarkable for unaffected simplicity. His language was sometimes so plain, that his patients have been able to repeat to their other medical attendants every word which he had uttered. In consultation he gave his opinion con- cisely, and with a few grounds; those grounds being chiefly facts, rather than arguments, so that little room was left for dispute. If any difference or diffi- culty arose, his example pointed out the way of re- moving it, by an appeal to other facts, and by a neglect of speculative reasoning. In every relation and situation of private life Dr. Baillie was equally to be admired; and it must be added, that the same liberal and just ideas which, on all occasions, guided his conduct as an individual, ruled him in his many public duties: he never coun- tenanced any measures which had the appearance of oppression or hostility towards the members of his profession. Men seldom act, collectively, with the same honour and integrity as they would do individ- ually; and a member of a public body requires an unusual share of moral courage, who opposes those measures cf his associates which he may not him- self approve of; but if there was one qualification more than another which gave Dr. Baillie the public confidence he enjoyed, and raised him to the zenith of professional distinction, it was his intl integrity. In 1799 Dr. Baillie commenced the publication of A Scries of Engravings to illustrate s me Part y Morbid Anatomy, in successive fasciculi, which were completed in 1S02. The drawings for this s] work were done by Mr. Clift, the conservati 1 Hunterian Museum in Lincoln's Inn 1 they were creditable at once to the taste and Iil of Dr. Baillie, and to the state of art in that day. Dr. Baillie afterwards published AnAnat r.s of the time. When he was at the he:gh: popularity, he enjoyed a higher : ai y preceding physician, and which was 1 ri 1 • the sum received by one particular 1 In one of his busiest vears, when he had scarcely 56 MATTHEW BAILLIE ROBERT BAILLIE. time to take a single meal, it is said to have reached ,£10,000. He was admitted to have the greatest consultation business of his time; and it was known that he was applied to for medical advice from many distant quarters of the world. From his arduous, and to his mind often irksome, duties, he enjoyed no relaxation for many years, till at length he began to indulge in an annual retirement of a few months to the country. On one of the first of these occasions he paid a visit to the land of his birth, which, during an absence of thirty years, spent in busy and distract- ing pursuits, he had never ceased to regard with the most tender feelings. The love of country was, in- deed, a prominent feature in his character; and he was prepared on this occasion to realize many enjoy- ments which he had previously contemplated with enthusiasm, in the prospect of once more beholding the land and friends of his youth. The result was far different from his expectations. He found most of his early companions either scattered over the world, in search, as he himself had been, of fortune, or else forgotten in untimely graves; of those who survived, many were removed beyond his sym- pathies by that total alteration of feeling which a difference of worldly circumstances so invariably effects in the hearts of early friends, on the side of the depressed party as well as the elevated. Ur. Baillie was introduced to the favourable notice of the royal family, in consequence of his treatment of the Duke of Gloucester. Being subse- quently joined in consultation with the king's phy- sicians upon his majesty's own unhappy case, he came more prominently than ever into public view, as in some measure the principal director of the royal treatment. The political responsibility of this situation was so very weighty, that, if Dr. Baillie had been a man of less firmness of nerve, he could scarcely have maintained himself under it. Such, however, was the public confidence in his inflexible integrity, that, amidst the hopes and fears which for a long time agitated the nation on the subject of the king's health, the opinion of Dr. Baillie ever regulated that of the public. On the first vacancy, which occurred in 18 10, he was appointed one of the physicians to the king, with the offer of a baron- etcy, which, however, his good sense and unassum- ing disposition induced him to decline. Dr. Baillie at length sunk under the weight of his practice, notwithstanding that for several years he had taken every possible expedient to shift off his duties to the care of younger aspirants. At the last quarterly meeting of the College of Physicians before his death, when there was a full assemblage of members, in the midst of the affairs for the considera- tion of which they were called together, Dr. Baillie entered the room, emaciated, hectic, and with all the symptoms of approaching dissolution. Such was the effect of his sudden and unexpected appear- ance, that the public business was suspended, and every one present instantly and spontaneously rose, and remained standing until Dr. Baillie had taken his seat; the incident, though trivial, evinces the affec- tionate reverence with which he was regarded, lie- sides the natural claim he had upon this body, from his unapproached anatomical and medical skill, and the extraordinary benignity and worth of his char- acter, he had entitled himself to its peculiar grati- tude by leaving to it the whole of his valuable collec- tion of preparations, together with the sum of ^600 to keep it in order. Dr. Baillie died on the 23d of September, 1823. Dr. Baillie had married, 5th May, 1791, Miss Sophia Denman, second daughter of Dr. Denman of London, a distinguished physician, and sister of Mr., subsequently Lord Denman and Lord High- chancellor of England. By her he left one son, to whom he bequeathed his estate of Dantisbourne, in Gloucestershire; and one daughter. The sums and effects destined by his will, many of which were given to medical institutions and public charities, were sworn in the prerogative court at less than ,£80,000. Dr. Baillie is thus characterized in the Annual Obituary for 1824: — "He seemed to have an innate goodness of heart, a secret sympathy with the virtuous, and to rejoice in their honourable and dignified con- duct, as in a thing in which he had a personal in- terest, and as if he felt that his own character was raised by it as well as human nature ennobled. He censured warmly what he disapproved, from a strong attachment to what is right, not to display his super- iority to others, or to give vent to any asperity of temper; at the same time he was indulgent to fail- ings, his kindness to others leading him on many occasions to overlook what was due to himself; and even in his last illness he paid gratuitous professional visits which were above his strength, and was in danger of suddenly exhausting himself by exertions for others. His liberal disposition was well known to all acquainted with public subscriptions; the great extent to which it showed itself in private bene- factions is known only to those who were nearly connected with him, and perhaps was fully known only to himself." BAILLIE, Robert, one of the most eminent, and perhaps the most moderate, of all the Scottish Presbyterian clergy during the time of the civil war, was born at Glasgow in 1599. His father, Thomas Baillie, citizen, was descended from the Baillies of Lamington; his mother, Helen Gibson, was of the family of Gibson of PHirie, both of which stocks are distinguished in Presbyterian history. Having studied divinity in his native university, Mr. Baillie in 1622 received episcopal orders from Archbishop Law of Glasgow, and became tutor to the son of the Earl of Eglintoune, by whom he was presented to the parish church of Kilwinning. In 1626 he was ad- mitted a regent at the college of Glasgow, and, on taking his chair, delivered an inaugural oration Dc Mente Agente. About this period he appears to have prosecuted the study of the oriental languages, in which he is allowed to have attained no mean pro- ficiency. For some years he lived in terms of the strictest intimacy with the noble and pious family of Eglintoune, as also with his ordinary, Archbishop Law, with whom he kept up an epistolary corres- pondence. Baillie was not only educated and or- dained as an Episcopalian; but he had imbibed from Principal Cameron of Glasgow the doctrine of passive resistance. He appears, however, to have been brought over to opposite views during the interval between 1630 and 1636, which he employed in dis- cussing with his fellow -clergymen the doctrines of Arminianism, and the new ecclesiastical regulations introduced into the Scottish church by Archbishop Laud. Hence, in the year 1636, being desired by Archbishop Law to preach at Edinburgh in favour of the canon and service-books, he positively refused, writing, however, a respectful apology to his lordship. Endeared to the resisting party by this conduct, he was chosen to represent the presbytery of Irvine in the General Assembly of 1638, by which the royal power was braved in the name of the whole nation, and Episcopacy formally dissolved. In this meeting Baillie is said to have behaved with great modera- tion; a term, however, which must be understood as only comparative, for the expressions used in his ROBERT BAILLIE. 57 lstter regarding the matters condemned are not what would now be considered moderate. In the ensuing year, when it was found necessary to vindicate the proceedings of the Glasgow Assem- bly with the sword, Baillie entered heartily into the views of his countrymen. lie accompanied the army to Dunse Law, in the capacity of preacher to the Earl of Eglintoune's regiment; and he it was who has handed down the well-known description of that ex- traordinary camp. "It would have done you good," he remarks in one of his letters, "to have cast your eyes athort our brave and rich hills, as oft as I did with great contentment and joy; for I was there among the rest, being chosen preacher by the gentle- men of our shire, who came late with Lord Eglin- toune. I furnished to half a dozen of good fellows muskets and pikes, and to my boy a broadsword. I carried myself, as the fashion was, a sword, and a couple of Dutch pistols at my saddle; but I pro- mise, for the offence of no man, except a rubber in the way; for it was our part alone to pray and preach for the encouragement of our countrymen, which I did to my power most cheerfully" {Letters, vol. i. p. 174). He afterwards states, "Our soldiers grew in experience of arms, in courage, and favour daily. Every one encouraged another. The sight of their nobles and their beloved pastors daily raised their hearts. The good sermons and prayers, morn- ing and evening, under the roof of heaven, to which their drums did call them for bells; the remonstrance very frequent of the goodness of their cause; of their conduct hitherto by a hand clearly divine; also Leslie's skill, and prudence, and fortune, made them as resolute for battle as could be wished. We were feared that emulation among our nobles might have done harm when they should be met in the held; but such was the wisdom and authority of that old, little, crooked soldier, that all, with an incredible sub- mission, from the beginning to the end, gave over themselves to be guided by him, as if he had been great Solyman. Mad you lent your ear in the morning, or especially at even, and heard in the tents the sound of some singing psalms, some pray- ing, and some reading the Scripture, ye would have been refreshed. True, there was swearing, and curs- ing, and brawling, in some quarters, whereat we were grieved; but we hoped, if our camp had been a little settled, to have gotten some way for these misorders; for all of any fashion did regret, and all promised to do their best endeavours for helping all abuses. For myself, I never found my mind in better temper than it was all that time since I came from home, till my head was again homeward; for I was as a man who had taken my leave from the world, and was resolved to die in that service without return." This expedition ended in a treaty between the Scot- tish leaders and their sovereign, in terms of which hostilities ceased for a few months. On the renewal of the insurrectionary war next year, Baillie accom- panied the Scottish army on its march into England, and became the chronicler of its transactions. To- wards the end of the year 1640 he was selected by the Scottish leaders as a proper person to go to Lon- don, along with other commissioners, to prepare charges against Archbishop Laud for his innovations up >n the Scottish church, which were alleged to have been the origin of the war. lie had, in April, before the expedition, published a pamphlet entitled Ladcnsiuin AvroKaraKpiais: the CantcrburiatCs Self- conviction; or an Evident Demonstration of the Avenved Arminianismc, Poferie, and Tyrannic of that Faction, by their enon Confessions, which perhaps pointed him out as fit to take a lead in the prosecu- tions of the great Antichrist of Scottish Presbvterv. Of this and almost all the other proceedings of his public life he has left a minute account in his letters and journals, which are preserved entire in the ar- chives of the Church of Scotland, and in the univer- sity of Glasgow, and of which excerpts were published in 2 vols. 8vo, Edinburgh, 1775. They were after- wards published in their entire form by the Banna- tyne Club, in 3 vols. 4to, in 1841. These reliques of Mr. Baillie form valuable materials of history. Not long after his return to his native country, in 1642, he was appointed joint-professor of divinity at Glasgow, along with Mr. David Dickson, an equally distinguished, but less moderate, divine. It affords some proof of the estimation in which he was now held, that he had the choice of this appointment in all the four universities of Scotland, lie performed his duties from this period till the Restoration, and at the same time attended all the General Assemblies as a member, except during an interval in 1643 6, when he was absent as a delegate to the Westminster assembly of divines. In this latter capacity he con- ducted himself in an unobtrusive manner, but fully concurred in the principles and views of the mure prominent men. It is observable from his letters that, with the pardonable earnestness of his age and party, he looked upon toleration as a thing fatal to religion, and strenuously asserted the divine right of the Presbyterian church to be established incomplete ascendancy and power as a substitute for the Church of England. From 1646 to 1649 he discharged his ordinary duties as a theological teacher without taking a leading part in public affairs. But in the latter year he was chosen by the church as the fittest person to carry its homage to King Charles II. at the Hague, and to invite that youthful monarch to assume the government in Scotland, under the limitations and stipulations of the covenant. This duty he exe- cuted with a degree of dignity and propriety which could have been expected from no member of his church but one, who, like him, had spent several years in conducting high diplomatic affairs in Eng- land. Indeed, Mr. Baillie appears in every transac- tion of his life to have been an accomplished man of the world, and yet retaining, along with habits of expediency, the most perfect sincerity in his religious views. When the necessary introduction of the malignants into the king's service caused a strong division in the church in 165 1, Baillie, as might have been expected from his character and former history, sided with the yielding or Resolutionist party, and soon became its principal leader. < In this account he and many other sincere men were charged by the Protesting and less worldly party with a declension from the high principles ol the covenant, a charge to which he, at least, certainly was not liable. After the Restoration, though made principal of his college through court patronage, he scrupulously refused to accept a bishopric, and did not hesitate to express his dissatisfaction with the re- introduction of Episcopacy. His health n< >w ill 1 lin- ing, he was visited by the new-made archbishop, to whom he thus freely expressed, himself: "Mr. An- drew, "said he, "I will not now call you my lord. King Charles would have made me one of these lords; but I do not find in the New Testamei ( th: : Christ has any lords in his house." lie this form of religion and ecclesiastical g verm "inconsistent with Scripture, contrary t ; primitive antiquity, and diametrically p; -• i t.;e true interest of the country." He , J . : -. in the sixtv-third vear of his ace. Mr. Baillie, besides his Letters a>i • f •.'/. ar 1 a variety of controversial pamphlet-. -.:.:.•. !e to the spirit of the times, was the auth r ' .. : ; • :tal le >s ROBERT BAILLIE. and learned work, entitled Opus Historicum et Chro- nologicum, which was published in folio at Amster- dam. He was a man of extensive learning — under- stood no fewer than thirteen languages, among which were Hebrew, Chaldee, Syriac, Samaritan, Arabic, and Ethiopic — and wrote Latin with almost August- ine elegance. He left a large family: one of his daughters becoming the wife of Walkinshaw of Bar- rowfield, was, by a strange chance, the ancestress of Miss Clementina Walkinshaw, well known from her connection with the history of Prince Charles Stuart — and also grandmother to the celebrated Henry Home, better known under the judicial designation of Lord Karnes. BAILLIE, Robert, of Jerviswood, an eminent patriot of the reign of Charles II., was the son of George Baillie, of St. John's Kirk in Lanarkshire, cadet of the ancient family of Baillie of Lamington, who appears to have purchased the estate of Jervis- wood, also in Lanarkshire, in the reign of Charles I., from a family of the name of Livingstone. It is stated by the Jacobite, Robert Mylne, in the publication called Fountainhall 's A T otes, that the first circumstance which alienated the mind of Robert Baillie from the government was his marrying a daughter of Sir Archibald Johnstone of Warristoun, who, having borne a conspicuous part in the civil war from the beginning, was executed after the Restoration. Whatever be the truth of this allegation, Baillie appears before the year 1676 to have been otherwise allied to the nonconformist party. The incident which first brought him forward into view as a subject of persecution was one of those in- terferences in behalf of natural justice, where all sense of consequences is overborne by the exigency of the occasion. During the misgovernment of the Duke of Lauderdale, a wretched profligate of the name of Carstairs had bargained with Archbishop Sharpe to undertake the business of an informer upon an un- commonly large scale, having a troop of other in- formers under him, and enjoying a certain reward for each individual whom he could detect at the con- venticles, besides a share of the fines imposed upon them. It may be supposed that an individual who could permit himself to enter upon a profession of this kind would not be very scrupulous as to the guilt of the persons whom he sought to make his prey. He accordingly appears to have, at least in one noted instance, pounced upon an individual who was perfectly innocent. This was the Rev. Mr. Kirkton, a nonconformist minister it is true, but one who had been cautious to keep strictly within the verge of the law. Kirkton was the brother-in- law of Sir. Baillie of Jerviswood by his marriage to the sister of that gentleman; and he is eminent in Scottish literary history for a memoir of the church during his own times, which was of great service in manuscript to the historian Wodrow, and was at length published in 1S17. One day in June, 1676, as Mr. Kirkton was walking along the High Street of Edinburgh, Carstairs, whose person he did not know, accosted him in a very civil manner, and ex- pressed a desire to speak with him in private. Mr. Kirkton, suspecting no evil, followed Carstairs to a very mean-looking house, near the common prison. Carstairs, who had no warrant to apprehend or detain Mr. Kirkton, went out to get one, locking the door upon his victim.' The unfortunate clergyman then perceived that he was in some danger, and pre- vailed upon a person in the house to go to seek his brother-in-law, Mr. Baillie, and apprise him of his 1 Burnet. Wodrow's account is slightly different. situation. Carstairs, having in vain endeavoured to get the requisite number of privy-councillors to sign a warrant, now came back, resolved, it appears, to try at least if he could not force some money from Mr. Kirkton for his release. Just as they were about to confer upon this subject, Mr. Baillie came to the door, with several other persons, and called to Carstairs to open. Kirkton, hearing the voices of friends, took courage, and desired his captor either to set him free, or to show a warrant for his deten- tion. Carstairs, instead of doing either, drew a pocket- pistol, and Kirkton found it necessary, for his own safety, to enter into a personal struggle, and endea- vour to secure the weapon of his antagonist. The gentlemen without, hearing a struggle and cries of murder, burst open the door, and found Carstairs sitting upon Mr. Kirkton on the floor. Baillie drew his sword, and commanded the poltroon to come off, asking him at the same time if he had any war- rant for apprehending Mr. Kirkton. Carstairs said he had a warrant for conducting him to prison, but he utterly refused to show it, though Mr. Baillie said that if he saw any warrant against his friend, he would assist in carrying it into execution. The wretch still persisting in saying he had a warrant, but was not bound to show it, Mr. Baillie left the place with Mr. Kirkton and other friends, having offered no violence whatever to Carstairs, but only threatened to sue him for unlawful invasion of his brother-in-law's person. It might have been expected from even a govern- ment so lost to all honour and justice as that which now prevailed in Scotland, that it would have had at least the good sense to overlook this unhappy accident to one of its tools. On the contrary, it was resolved to brave the popular feeling of right, by listening to the complaints of Carstairs. Through the influence of Archbishop Sharpe, who said that, if Carstairs was not countenanced, no one would be procured to apprehend fanatics afterwards, a majority of the council agreed to prosecute Baillie, Kirkton, and the other persons concerned. For this purpose, an antedated warrant was furnished to Carstairs, signed by nine of the councillors. The Marquis of Atholl told Bishop Burnet that he had been one of the nine who lent their names to this infamous docu- ment. The whole case was therefore made out to be a tumult against the government; Baillie was fined in six thousand merks (^"318 sterling), 2 and his friends in smaller sums, and to be imprisoned till they should render payment. This award was so opposite, in every particular, to the principles of truth, honour, and justice, that, even if not directed against individuals connected with the popular cause, it could not have failed to excite general indignation. It appears that a re- spectable minority of the council itself was strongly opposed to the decision, and took care to let it be known at court. Mr. Baillie was therefore released at the end of four months, in consideration of pay- ment of one-half of his fine to the creature Carstairs. Lord Halton, however, who was at this time a kind of pro-regent under his brother Lauderdale, had interest to obtain the dismissal of his opponents from the council, namely, the Duke of Hamilton, the Earls of Morton, Dumfries, and Kincardine, and the Lords Cochrane and Primrose, whom lie branded, for their conduct on this occasion, as enemies to the church and favourers of conventicles. After this period nothing is known of Mr. Baillie till the year 1683, when he is found taking a promi- nent -hare in a scheme of emigration, agitated by a - Wodr ,£500 sterling, new edit. v. ii, p. 328. ROBERT BAILLIE. SO number of Scottish gentlemen, who saw no refuge but this from the tyranny of the government. These gentlemen entered into a negotiation with the paten- tees of South Carolina, for permission to convey themselves thither, along with their families and dependants. While thus engaged, Mr. Baillie was induced, along with several of his friends, to enter into correspondence and counsel with the heads of the Puritan party in England, who were now form- ing an extensive plan of insurrection, for the purpose of obtaining a change of measures in the government, though with no ulterior view. Under the pretext of the American expedition, Lord Melville, Sir John Cochrane of Ochiltree, Mr. Baillie, and three others, were invited and repaired to London, to consult with the Duke of Monmouth, Sydney, Russell, and the rest of that party. This scheme was never properly matured; indeed, it never was anything but a matter of talk, and had ceased to be even that, when a minor plot for assassinating the king, to which only a small number of the party were privy, burst pre- maturely, and involved several of the chiefs, who were totally ignorant of it, in destruction. Sydney and Russell suffered for this crime, of which they were innocent; and Baillie and several other gentlemen were seized and sent down to be tried in Scotland. 1 The subsequent judicial proceedings were charac- terized by the usual violence and illegality of the time. Baillie endured a long confinement, during which he was treated very harshly, and not permitted to have the society of his lady, though she offered to go into irons, as an assurance against any attempt at facilitating his escape. An attempt was made to procure sufficient proof of guilt from the confessions wrought out of his nephew-in-law, the Earl of Tarras (who had been first married to the elder sister of the Duchess of Monmouth); but, this being found in- sufficient, his prosecutors were at last obliged to adopt the unlawful expedient, too common in those distracted times, of putting him to a purgative oath. An accusation was sent to him, not in the form of an indictment, nor grounded on any law, but on a letter of the king, in which he was charged with a con- spiracy to raise rebellion, and a concern in the Rye- house Plot. He was told that, if he would not clear himself of these charges by his oath, he should be held as guilty, though not as in a criminal court, but only as before the council, who had no power to award a higher sentence than fine and imprisonment. As he utterly refused to yield to such a demand, he was fined by the council in ,£6000, being about the value of his whole estates. It was then supposed that the prosecution would cease, and that he would escape with the doom of a captive. Eor several months he continued shut up in a loathsome prison, which had such an effect upon his health that he was brought almost to the last extremity. Yet "all the while," to use the words of Bishop Burnet, 2 '"he seemed so composed, and even so cheerful, that his behaviour looked like a reviving of the spirit of the noblest of the "',,1 Greeks or Romans, or rather of the primitive Christians and first martyrs in those last days of the church." At length, on the 23d of December, 16S4, 1 Mr. K i--, in his Observations on Mr. Fox's History, re'ates : of a pardon l>eing held out to him, on condition of his giving information respecting some friends supp ise ! to he < ny 15 : i with him, his answer was, " They wh » can m ike -•.:■ h i proposal t" me neither know me nor my country." an expression of which the latter part is amply justifie 1 by fact, lor. .is Lord John Russell has justly observed, in his Memoirs of Lord William Russell, " It is to the honour of Scotland, th :asion] no witnesses came forward voluntarily to a use their ass iciates, as had been done in Engl ind." - Burnet, being the nephew of Sir Archibald Johnstone, was cousin by marriajjc to Mr. L he was brought before the court of justiciary. He was now so weak as to be obliged to appear at the bar in his night-gown, and take frequent applica- tions of cordials, which were supplied to him by his sister, the wife of Mr. Ker of Graden. The only evidence that could be produced was the confessions forced from his friends by torture, one of whom, the Rev. Mr. Carstairs, afterwards the distinguished principal of the Edinburgh university, had only emitted a declaration, on an express promise that no use was to be made of it. Mr. Baillie solemnly denied having been accessory to any conspiracy against the king's life, or being unfavourably dis- posed to monarchical government. He complained that his friends had been forced to bring forth untrue representations against him. Indeed, there can be no doubt that the whole extent of his offence was a desire to procure some amelioration of the measures, and not any change of the members of the govern- ment; we say desire, because it never could be proved that a single step had been taken in the matter, nor is there the least probability that it would have ever been heard of, but for the trials of several innocent persons. A cavalier and contemporary writer has alleged that Mr. Baillie conducted himself on his trial in a very haughty and scornful manner — "very huffy and proud" is the expression used — but this pro- bably is only the colour given by a political enemy to the Roman dignity which Burnet saw in his behaviour. After the evidence had been adduced, and when the lord-advocate had ended his charge, the following remarkable dialogue took place be- tween him and that officer : — "My lord, I think it very strange that you charge me with such abominable things; you may remember that when you came to me in person, you told me that such things were laid to my charge, but that you did not believe them. How then, my lord, did you come to lay such a stain upon me with =0 much violence? Are you now convinced in your con- science that I am more guilty than before? You may remember what passed betwixt us in prison." The whole audience fixed their eyes upon the advocate, who appeared in no small confusion, and said, "Jerviswood, I own what you say. My thoughts there were as a private man; but what I say here is by special direction of the privy-council. And," pointing to Sir William Paterson, clerk, "he knows my orders." "Well," said Baillie, "if your lordship have one conscience for yourself, and another for the council, I pray God forgive you; I do. My lords," he added, "I trouble your lordships no further." The assize was empannelled at midnight, and sat till nine in the morning of the succeeding day. when a verdict of guilty was returned against Mr. Baillie, and he was sentenced to be executed that afternoon at the cross, and his limbs to be afterwards exhibited on the jails of four different Scottish towns. The reason for such precipitation was the tear of judges that a natural death would wishes of the government, which calk at this moment for a public exampl opponents. Baillie only said. "My is short, the sentence is sharp, but I thar.l who hath made me as fit to die as ; On returning to the prison he < Wodrow describes as "a wondertn from the assurance he had that in a lew should be inconceivably happy." Mr. Baillie was atten I 1 the scat! faithful a:: 1 affectionate sister. II ■,;: poi ' ' ■ imperai :o terrify its Is. ti I by his .pared an Co SIR DAVID BAIRD. address to the people; but knowing that he might be prevented from delivering it, he had previously given it to his friends in writing. It is said that the government afterwards offered to give up his body for burial, if his friends would agree to suppress this document. They appear to have rejected the proposition. The unfortunate gentleman was so weak that he required to be assisted in mounting the ladder: he betrayed, however, no symptom of moral weakness. Just before being consigned to his fate, he said, in the self-accusing spirit of true excellence, "My faint zeal for the Protestant reli- gion has brought me to this end." His sister-in-law, with the stern virtue of her family, waited to the last. 1 "Thus," says Bishop Burnet, "a learned and worthy gentleman, after twenty months' hard usage, was brought to death, in a way so full, in all the steps of it, of the spirit and practice of the courts of inquisition, that one is tempted to think that the methods taken in it were suggested by one well studied, if not practised, in them. The only excuse that ever was pretended for this infamous prosecu- tion was, that they were sure he was guilty ; and that the whole secret of the negotiation between the two kingdoms was intrusted to him; and that, since he would not discover it, all methods might be taken to destroy him. Not considering what a precedent they made on this occasion, by which, if they were once possessed of an ill opinion of a man, they were to spare neither artifice nor violence, but to hunt him down by any means." Dr. Owen has testified in a strong manner to the great abilities of the Scottish Sydney. Writing to a Scottish friend, he said, "You have truly men of great spirits among you; there is, for a gentleman, Mr. Baillie of Jerviswood, a person of the greatest abilities I ever almost met with." Mr. Baillie's family was completely ruined by his forfeiture. He left a son, George Baillie, who, after his execution, was obliged to take refuge in Holland, whence he afterwards returned with the Prince of Orange, by whom he was restored to his estates. The wife of this gentleman was Miss Grizel Hume, daughter of Sir Patrick Hume of Polwarth, a fellow- patriot of Mr. Robert Baillie. The occasion of their meeting was very remarkable. Miss Grizel, when a very young girl, wa> sent by her father from the country, to endeavour to convey a letter to Mr. Baillie in prison, and bring back what intelligence she could. She succeeded in this difficult enterprise; and having at the same time met with Mr. Baillie's son, the intimacy was formed, which was afterwards completed by their marriage. BAIRD, The Right Honourable General Sir David, a distinguished commander during the wars of the French revolution, was the second sur- viving son of William Baird, Fsq., heir, by settle- ment, of his seconr! cousin, Sir John Baird of New- byth, Bart. He entered the army, December 16, 1772, as an ensign in the 2d foot, joined the regiment at Gibraltar, April, 1773, and returned to Britain in 1776. Having been promoted to a lieutenancy in 177S, he immediately after obtained a company in the 73d, a regiment then just raised by Lord Mac- leod, with which he sailed for India, and arrived at Madras, January, 17S0. This youner rerdment was here at once ushered 1 " The Lady Graden, with a more than masculine courage, attended him on the scaffold till he was quartered, and went with the hangman and saw his quarters sodden, oyled, &c." FouniainhalCs Sot,-s, 117, n3 . It is scarcely possible for an individual accustomed to the feelings of modern society to believe such a statement. into the trying and hazardous scenes of the war against Hyder Ali, whom the English Company had provoked by a shameful breach of faith into a hostility that threatened to overwhelm it. In July, 1780, while the Company, exclusive of Lord Mac- leod's regiment, had only about 5000, men under arms, Hyder burst into the Carnatic with an army of 100,000 men, disciplined and commanded by French officers, and laid siege to Arcot, the capital of the only native prince friendly to the British. Sir Hector Munro, commander-in-chief of the Company's troops, set out to relieve this city on the 25th of August, expecting to be joined on the 30th by a large detachment then in the Northern Circars under Colonel Baillie. On learning this movement Hyder left Arcot, and threw himself in the way of Colonel Baillie. In order to favour, if possible, the approach of this officer, Sir Hector Munro, on the 5th of Sep- tember, changed his position a little, and advanced two miles on the Trepassore road, which brought him within a short distance from the enemy. Hyder then detached his brother-in-law Meer Sail), with 8000 horse, to attack Colonel Baillie, and after- wards an additional force of 6000 infantry, 18,000 cavalry, and twelve pieces of cannon, under his son the celebrated Tippoo. He at the same time made demonstrations on his front, to keep up the attention of Sir Hector and the main army. Baillie, though commanding no more than 2000 sepoys and a fev, - European companies, gained a complete victory over the immense force sent against him, but at the same time sent word to Sir Hector that, unless provision were made for accomplishing a junction, he must certainly be cut off. The commander-in-chief held a council of war, when it was determined at all hazards to send a reinforcement, for the purpose of achieving the relief of this gallant officer. A small force was selected, consisting principally of the grenadier and infantry companies of Lord Macleod's regiment, which, having received strict injunctions as to the necessity of a secret and expeditious inarch, set off towards Colonel Baillie's position, under the command of Colonel Fletcher and Captain Baird. Hyder Ali had secret intelligence of this movement, and sent a detachment to cut it off; but Colonel Fletcher and Captain Baird, having fortunately con- ceived some suspicion of their guides, suddenly altered their line of march, and were thereby enabled to gain their point. Hyder was determined that Colonel Baillie, with his friends, should not advance so safely to the main army. He therefore, with the most con- summate ability, and under his own personal inspec- tion, prepared an ambuscade at a particular pass through which they would have to march. This part of the road he had occupied and enfiladed with several batteries of cannon, behind which lay large bodies of his best foot, while he himself, with almost his whole force, was ready to support the attack. While these real dispositions were made, a cloud of irregular cavalry was employed in several motions on the side of Conjeveram, in order to divert the at- tention of the English camp. The morning of the loth of September had scarcely dawned, when the silent and expectant enemy perceived Colonel Baillie's little army advanc- ing into the very toils planted to receive it. The ambuscade reserved their fire with admirable cool- ness and self-command, till the unhappy English were in the midst of them. The army marched in column. On a sudden, while in a narrow defile, a battery of twelve guns poured a storm of grape- shot into their right flank. The English faced about; another battery immediately opened on their rear. They had no alternative, therefore, but to SIR DAVID LAIRD. Ci advance; other batteries met them here likewise, and in less than half an hour 57 pieces of cannon were so brought to bear on them as to penetrate into every part of the British line. By seven o'clock in the morning the enemy poured down upon them in thousands, and every Englishman in the army was engaged. Captain Baird, at the head of his grena- diers, fought with the greatest heroism. Surrounded and attacked on all sides by 25,000 cavalry, by 30 regiments of sepoy infantry, besides Hyder Ali's European corps, and a numerous artillery playing upon them from all quarters within grape-shot dis- tance, yet this heroic column stood firm and un- daunted, alternately facing their enemies on every side of attack. The French officers in Hyder's camp beheld the scene with astonishment, which was increased when, in the midst of all this tumult and extreme peril, they saw the British grenadiers performing their evolutions with as much precision, coolness, and steadiness, as if under the eyes of a commander on a parade. At length, after a dubious contest of three hours (from six in the morning till nine), victory began to declare for the English, when an unlucky accident altered the fortune of the day. The tumbrils containing the ammunition sud- denly blew up, with two dreadful explosions, in the centre of the British line. The whole face of their column was laid open, and their artillery overturned and destroyed. Tippoo Sail) instantly seized the moment of advantage, and, without waiting for orders, fell with the Mogul and Carnatic horse into the broken square, which had not yet time to form anew. This attack by the enemy's cavalry- being immediately seconded by the French corps, and by the lir.-t line of infantry, determined at once the fate of our unfortunate army. Out of 4000 sepoys and 800 Europeans who had commenced this engagement, only about 200 of the latter survived. Colonel Fletcher was among the slain, and Captain Baird was wounded in four places. When he and Colonel Baillie, with other captive officers, were taken before Hyder Ali, the latter gentleman said to the barbarous chief, "Your son will inform you that you owe the victory to our disaster, rather than to our defeat." Hyder angrily ordered them from his presence, and commanded them instantly to prison. The slaughter among the Mysore troops was very great, amounting, it is said, to three times the whole British army. When Sir Hector Munro learned the unhappy fate of his detachment, he found it necessary to retreat to Madras. Captain Baird, with the officers, remained in a dungeon in one of Hyder's forts for three days and a half; he was chained by the leg to another prisoner, as much of the slaughter in Hyder's army was attributed to the grenadiers. At length, in July, 17S4, he was released and joined his regiment at Arcot. In 17S7 he removed with his regiment (now styled the 71st) to Bombay, and returned to Madras next year. On the 5th' of June, 17S9. he received the majority of the 71st, and in October obtained leave of absence, and returned to Britain. In 1791 he returned as lieutenant-colonel of the 7 1 -t. and joined the army under the Marquis Cornwallis. As commander of a brigade of sepovs, he was present at the attack of a number of droogs, or hill-forts, and at the siege of Seringapatam, in 1701 an! 1702; and likewise at the storming of Ti] poo Sultaun's lines an 1 camps in the island of Seringapatam. In 1793 he commanded a brigade of Europeans, and was -present at the siege of Pondi- cherry. lie received a colonelcy in 170;. In October, 1797, he embarked at Madras with his regiment for Europe; in December, when he arrived at the Cape of Good Hope, he was appointed brigadier-general, and placed on that staff, in com- mand of a brigade. June iS, 179S, he was appointed major-general, and returned to the staff in India. In January, 1799, he arrived at Madras, in command of two regiments of foot, together with the drafts of the 28th dragoons. May 4, he commanded the storming party at that distinguished action the assault of Seringapatam; when, in requital of his brilliant services, he was presented by the armv, through the commander-in-chief, with the state sword of Tippoo Sultaun, and also with a dress-sword from the field-officers serving under his immediate command at the assault. The eminent merit of Brigadier-general Baird was now fully known and acknowledged by the govern- ment at home. He was therefore, in 1800, ap- pointed to the command of an expedition against Batavia, but which was afterwards sent to Egypt. He landed at Coseir in June, crossed the desert, and, embarking on the Nile, descended to Grand Cairo; whence he set out for Alexandria, which he reached a few days before it surrendered to General Hutchison. Next year he led the I^gyptian-Indian army overland to India, where he was concerned in various military transactions. His services, however, being soon after superseded by Sir Arthur Wellesley (afterwards the illustrious protector of Europe), he- sailed for Britain with his staff, March, 1803, and after a tedious voyage, during which he was taken prisoner by a French privateer, but afterwards re- taken, he arrived in England in November. Sir David Baird was received at the British court with great distinction. In December he received the royal permission to wear the Turkish order of the Crescent. In June, 1804, he received the honour of knighthood; and on the iSth of August following became a knight -companion of the Bath. With the increased rank of lieutenant-general he commanded an expedition which sailed in October, 1S05, for the Cape of Good Hope. Landing there, January 6, 1S06, he attacked and beat the Dutch army, and en the iSth received the surrender of the colony. Being recalled, he arrived in Britain, April, 1S07, and was shifted from the colonelcy of the 54 tri , which he had held for some years, to that 24th, and placed on the foreign staff under General Lord Cathcart. He commanded a division at the siege of Copenhagen, where he was twice slightly wounded; and returned with the army in November. After a short period of service in Ireland, Sir David sailed in command of an armament of io,cco men for Coranna, where he arrived in Noveml er, 1S0S, and formed a junction with the army under General Sir John Moore. He commanded the fir-t division of that army, and in the battle of C< rur.r.a, January 16, 1S09. he lost his left arm. By the death of Sir John Moore in this action. Sir David succeeded to the chief command, and ha 1 the honour of communicating intelligence of the victory to government. < )n this oecasii m he recc;\ i<\ for the fourth time in his life, the thanks of ] ail - ment, and, April 13, was create'! a baronet, w.th very honourable armorial bearings allusive t transactions of his life. After this r.cv. r again appeared in active service. In iM married Miss Preston Campbell, of Fcrr.t v.cr a: i Lochlane, Perthshire, by wb m h ft i - ■ I'- 1S14 he was promoted to the rank < ' general, r : in 1S19 became governor 1 f Kin-ale in In . in 1S27 1 'f F >rt < ! >rge in l " This brave veteran died .;e, Ar.gv.-l iS. 1S20. at his seal I I'ertl II -la Iv. v :. -urvivc 1 1. in \\V. ie-47- erect ia :.. : ..- 62 WALTER BALCANQUEL ALEXANDER BALFOUR. ment to his memory on the top of a romantic hill, named Tom-na-chaistel (i.e. the hill of the castle), in the neighbourhood of Ferntower. BALCANQUEL, Walter, D.D., an eminent divine of the seventeenth century, was the son of the Rev. Walter Balcanquel, who was a minister of Edinburgh for forty-three years, and died in August, 1616. Dr. Walter Balcanquel was born at Edin- burgh. It has been supposed that he was himself a minister of Edinburgh; but probably the writer who makes this statement only mistakes him for his father, who bore the same name. lie entered a bachelor of divinity at Pembroke Hall, Oxford, where, September 8th, 1611, he was admitted a fdlow. He appears to have enjoyed the patronage and friendship of King James, and his first prefer- ment was to be one of the royal chaplains. In 161 7 he became Master of the Savoy in the Strand, London; which office, however, he soon after re- signed in favour of Mark Antony de- Dominis, Archbishop of Spalatro, who came to England on account of religion, and became a candidate for the king's favour. In 161 8 Dr. Balcanquel was sent to the celebrated synod of Dort, as one of the repre- sentatives of the Church of Scotland. He has given an account of a considerable part of the proceedings of this grand religious council, in a series of letters to Sir Dudley Carleton, which are to be found in The Golden Remains of the ever -memorable Mr. John Hales of Eaton, 4to, 1673. In 1621, the Archbishop of Spalatro having resigned the mastership of the Savoy, Dr. Balcanquel was re-appointed; and on the 1 2th of March, 1624, being then doctor of divinity, he was installed Dean of Rochester. George Heriot, at his death, February 12th, 1624, ordained Dr. balcanquel to be one of the three executors of his last will, and to take the principal charge of the establishment of his hospital at Edinburgh. Pro- bably the experience which he had already acquired in the management of the Savoy Hospital might be the chief cause of his being selected for this impor- tant duty. Heriot appointed Dr. Balcanquel, by his will, "to repair with all the convenience he can, after my decease, to the town of Edinburgh," in order to conclude with the magistrates about the business of the hospital; allowing him, for his pains, in addition to the sum of one hundred merks, which he enjoyed as an ordinary executor, one hundred pounds sterling, payable by two equal instalments — the first three months after the decease of the testator, and the second at the completion of the hospital. I)r. balcanquel is entitled to no small commen- dation for the able manner in which he discharged this great and onerous trust. The statutes, which, in terms of the testator's will, were drawn up by him, are dated 1627, and do great credit to his sagacity and practical good sense. Dr. Balcanqucl's next appearance in the public concerns of his native country was of a less happy character. In 1638, when Charles I. sent down the Marquis of Hamilton to Scotland, to treat with the Covenanters, the Dean of Rochester accompanied his grace in the capacity of chaplain. What was his external behaviour on this occasion we do not know; but it was afterwards surmised by the Covenanters, that he had been deputed by Archbishop Laud as a spy, at once upon the marquis, who was suspected of moderation, and the people with whom he was dealing. It is asserted by Sir James Balfour, in his Memorialls of State, that Dr. Balcanquel also com- municated intelligence of all that happened in Scot- land to Signor George Con, the pope's legate, "a., some of his intercepted letters can beare recorde." Early in the ensuing year was published an apolo- getical narrative of the court-proceedings, under the title of His Alajesties Large Declaration, concerning the Late Tumults in Scotland, which by universal and apparently uncontradicted report was ascribed to the pen of Dr. Balcanquel. While this work was received by the friends of the king as a triumphant vindication of his attempts upon the purity of the Scottish church, it only excited new indignation in the minds of the outraged people, who soon after appeared in arms at Dunse Law, to defend their religious freedom with the sword. On the 14th of May, 1639, at the very time when the armies were about to meet on the borders, Dr. Balcanquel, ap- parently in requital of his exertions, was installed Dean of Durham. He had now rendered himself a marked man to the Scottish Presbyterians, and accordingly his name is frequently alluded to in their publications as an "incendiary.'''' Under this char- acter he was denounced by the Scottish estates, July 29, 1641, along with the Earl of Traquair, Sir John Hay, clerk register, Sir Robert Spottiswoode, and Maxwell, Bishop of Ross, all of whom were regarded as the principal cruses of the war between the king and his people. In the CanterburiaiCs Self-convic- tion, a pamphlet written in 1641, by the Rev. Robert Baillie, against Archbishop Laud, he is spoken of in a style of such asperity, as might have convinced him that, in the event of a complete triumph of the Presbyterian party, he would share in the proceed- ings which were now directed against that unhappy prelate. Accordingly, the very next year, when the king could no longer protect his partizans, Dr. Bal- canquel was forced from his mastership of the Savoy, plundered, sequestrated, and obliged to flee from London. Repairing to Oxford, he attached himself to the precarious fortunes of his sovereign, and for several years afterwards had to shift about from place to place, wherever he could find security for his life. At length, having taken refuge in Chirk Castle, Denbighshire, he died there in a very cold season, on Christmas day, 1645. He was buried next day in the parish church of Chirk, where, some years after, a splendid monument was erected to his memory by a neighbouring royalist, Sir Thomas Middleton of Chirk Castle. BALFOUR, Alexander. This novelist, pott. and miscellaneous writer was a native of the parish of Monikie, Forfarshire, and was born on the 1st of March, 1767. As he was a twin, and born of parents in humble life, his support in childhood and means of education might have equally been precarious, had he not been supported in boyhood by a friend of the family, who also bestowed upon him such a religious training as not only developed his talents, but fitted him fir those adversities which were afterwards to be his lot. Having received a very limited education at the parish school, where, however, he distinguished him- self at the age of twelve years by his attempts in English composition, Alexander Balfour was appren- ticed to a weaver; but disliking this occupation, which gave no scope for his growing talents, he returned home, and betook himself to the more con- genial attempt of teaching a private school. In this way he also taught himself, and during the intervals of his daily toil gave proofs of his growing profici- ency, by writing several articles for the provincial newspapers, and also for Dr. Anderson's miscellany, The Bee. After he had wielded the ferula long enough in a rustic seminary to find that he was fit for something better, Balfour in his twenty-sixth ALEXANDER BALFOUR — year removed to the thriving town of Arbroath, and became clerk to a sail-cloth manufacturer, on the death of whom he entered into partnership in business with the widow of the deceased; and upon her death, in 1800, he took another partner into the firm. A government contract into which they had entered for supplying the navy with canvas made their business a prosperous one, and Balfour, now in circumstances of comfort, was able to cultivate his literary tastes, and correspond with the learned and talented of the Scottish capital. Having married also in 1794, the year after his arrival in Arbroath, he, in 1814, when he found himself father of a rising family, removed to a country residence at Trottick, near Dundee. Here he also undertook the manage- ment of the branch of a London house which for many years had been connected with his own firm, and into which he embarked his whole fortune. But it was an unfortunate mercantile speculation, as in 1815 the mercantile reaction which had occurred on the sudden restoration of peace ruined the London establishment, and Balfour found himself reduced by the unforeseen stroke to utter bankruptcy. Being thus reduced to his original poverty, with the bitterness of disappointment and failure added to it, the subject of this memoir was fain to accept the situation of manager at a manufacturing establish- ment in Balgonie, Fifeshire. Resigning this appoint- ment, he afterwards, in 1S1S, removed to Edinburgh, where he became a clerk in the establishment of Mr. Blackwood, the eminent publisher. Here how- ever a worse calamity than that of mere bankruptcy in fortune awaited him, for in 1S19 symptoms of paralysis in his constitution began to appear, which in October became so confirmed that he was obliged to be moved in a wheeled chair. It was well that the vigour of his mind and his literary aptitudes were still untouched, as these were henceforth to form his only occupation as well as means of subsistence. Being now an author by compulsion as well as choice, Balfour bravely girded himself for the task; and his first production under these circumstances, and upon which he had been some time previously employed, was the novel entitled Campbell, or the Probationer, which was published in 1819. It was a subject seldom attempted, as it comprised the literary exertions, the privations, the sorrows, and disappointments of a licentiate of the church scram- bling for the bare means of life while in search of a living — the manifold changes of occupation he must undergo, and the unmerited rebuffs he must endure in such a pilgrimage, now happily so rare, but which were so abundant about forty years ago, out of which Balfour contrived to manufacture a mar- vellous talc of mirth, pathos, and varied incident. It was suited to the day and has now passed into oblivion; but at its appearance it became highly popular, and being published anonymously, the interest of it was heightened, and the public was anxious to know the name and circumstances of the author. After this his pen was not allowed to lie idle, and from his wheeled chair his productions issued with a rapidity that would have been wonder- ful, had not authorship been nit merely his only occu- pation but his solace. In the same year that his novel of Campbell appeared, he edited the poetical works of his deceased friend Richard Gall, to which he also supplied a biographical preface. In 1S22 he produced a three- volumed novel entitled The Farmer s Three Daughters, and this in 1S23 was followed by The Foundling of Glenth >r/t, or the Smuggler s Ca:e, al>o in three volume--. It was unfortunate, however, that the last two novels proceeded from the Minerva pre>s, a circumstance sufficient to condemn them to SIR AN'DRIAY BALFOUR. *3 neglect let their merits be what they might. It was not to prose alone that Balfour confined himself, and in 1820 he published Contemplation, and other Poems, in one volume 8vo, which added considerably to his literary reputation. To the Scots Magazine he had long been a contributor, and on the establish- ment of Constable's Edinburgh Magazine his services were secured for it by Thomas I'ringle, its editor. His contributions to this periodical during the nine years of its existence were so numerous, that of themselves they would have filled three octavo volumes; and the articles embraced a variety of themes, but chiefly the manners of Scottish rural life — the theme in which his commencing novel of Campbell had excelled, and in which he showed himself completely at home. To Constable's Maga- zine he also contributed many articles in verse, the chief of which were "Characters omitted in Crabbe's Parish Register." In these the delineations were so truthful and striking, and the versification so musical and terse, that they were perused with pleasure and surprise, and thought to be scarcely inferior to those of Crabbe himself. In consequence of this favour- able reception, Balfour was induced to publish these sketches in one volume in 1825. In 1S27, in con- sequence of an application from Mr. Joseph Hume, M.P., Mr. Canning conferred on Balfour a treasury donation of .£100, in consideration of his genius and misfortunes. Alexander Balfour, in addition to his other literary labours, was until his death a copious contributor to the Edinburgh Literary Gazette. The last novel which he published was Highland Mary, in four volumes, a work of considerable beauty and pathos, and soon after he died on the 12th of September, 1829. After his death, a volume of his remains was collected and published under the title of Weeds and Wild-flowers, by Mr. D. M. Moir, M.D., who also prefixed an excellent memoir of the author. During the long illness of Alexander Balfour, and the necessity of constant labour for the wants of the day, he bore up not only with resignation and patience, but constant cheerfulness. Although so long a prisoner to his chair, a continual smile was upon his lips; and notwithstanding an impediment in his speech, the effect of his malady, his conversa- tion was always cheerful, and enriched with thought and humour. He was also rigidly temperate in his habits, affectionate in his relationships of father and husband, and religious in his feelings and principles. Upon few indeed have misfortunes and sufferings sat more amiably than upon Alexander Balfour. BALFOUR, Sir Andrew, Bart., M.D., who first introduced the dissection of the human body into Scotland, and that at a very superstitious p who projected the first hospital in the country for the relief of disease and pi >verty at the public expense; who was the founder of the botanic garden at Edin- burgh, and almost the father of the science in Sci :- land; who planned the Royal College of I'hy>ic Edinburgh; and bequeathed to the public a 1111 which at that time would have been an 1 any university or any metropoli — was tl youngest son of Sir Michael Balf ur < :' I ' • in Fife, and was bom at that place on the i~ January. 1630. He prosecuted his -' university of St. Andrew ~. where he took of A.M. At this period his education wa- ? tended by his brother Sir James Balf ur. t! antiquary, and lyon king-at-arm> to ' ha; - I., who was about thirty years older than him.-e't. At col- lege he fir-t disc'overe ! his attachi ' 'tany. which in him is said to have ie 1 to the stu ; 64 SIR ANDREW BALFOUR. physic, instead of being, as it generally is, a hand- maid to that art. Quitting the university about the year 1650, he removed to London, where his medi- cal studies were chiefly directed by the celebrated Harvey, by Sir Theodore Mayerne the distinguished physician of King James I., and various other emi- nent practitioners. Me afterwards travelled to Blois in France, and remained there for some time, to see the botanic garden of the Duke of Orleans, which was then the best in Europe, and was kept by his countryman Dr. Morison. Here he contracted a warm friendship for that great botanist, which con- tinued unimpaired while they lived. From Blois he went to Paris, where, for a long time, he prosecuted his medical studies with great ardour. Hecompleted his education at the university of Caen, from which he received the degrees of bachelor and doctor of physic, on the 20th of September, 1661. Returning to London soon afterwards, Dr. Balfour was introduced to Charles II., who named him as the most proper person to attend the young Earl of Rochester on his continental travels. After an absence of four years, he returned with his pupil in 1667. During their tour he endeavoured, and at that time not without some appearance of success, to recall that abandoned young nobleman to the paths of virtue, and to inspire him with the love of learn- ing. Rochester himself often acknowledged, and to Bi»hop Burnet in particular, only three days before his death, how much he was bound to love and honour Dr. Balfour, to whom, next to his parents, he thought he owed more than to all the world. On returning to his native country, Balfour settled at St. Andrews as a physician. "He brought with him," says Dr Walker, in his Essays on Natural History, "the best library, especially in medicine and natural history, that had till then appeared in Scotland; and not only these, but a perfect know- ledge of the languages in which they were written; likewise many unpublished manuscripts of learned men, a series of antique medals, modern medallions, and pictures and busts, to form the painter and the architect; the remarkable arms, vestments, and orna- ments of foreign countries; numerous mathematical, philosophical, and surgical instruments, which he not only possessed, but used; with operations in surgery till then unknown in this country; a com- plete cabinet with all the simples of the materia medica, and new compositions in pharmacy; and large collections of the fossils, plants, and animals, not only of the foreign countries he traversed, but of the most distant parts of the world." Dr. Balfour's merit was too conspicuous to suffer him to remain long at St. Andrews. In the year 1670 he removed to Edinburgh, where he imme- diately came into great practice. Here, among other improvement-, he prosecuted the manufacture of paper, and was the means of introducing that valu- able art into the country -though for many years it remained in a state of complete or nearly complete dormancy; the people deriving stationery articles of all kinds from Holland. Adjoining to his house he had a small botanic garden, which he furnished by the seeds he received from his foreign correspon- dents; and in this garden he raised many plants which were then first introduced into Scotland. One of his fellow-labourers in this department was Patrick Murray of Livingston, whom he had initiated into the study of natural history. This young gentle- man, who enjoyed an ample fortune, formed at his scat in the country a botanic garden, containing 1000 species of plants, which at that period was a very large collection. He traversed the whole of Prance in quest of the plants of that country; and on his way to Italy he prematurely died of a fever. Soon after his death Dr. Balfour transferred Murray's col- lection from Livingston to Edinburgh; and with it, joined to his own, he had the merit of laying the foundation of the public botanic garden. The necessary expense of this new institution was at first defrayed by Dr. Balfour, Sir Robert Sibbald, and the Faculty of Advocates. But at length the city allotted a piece of ground near Trinity College church for a public garden, and out of the revenues of the university allowed a certain sum for its support. As the first keeper of this garden, Dr. Balfour selected Mr. James Sutherland; who, in 1684, published a work entitled Hortus Edinburgensis. (See Suther- land.) The new institution soon became consider- able: plants and seeds were sent from Morison at Oxford, Watts at London, Marchant at Paris, Her- man at Leyden, and Spottiswood at Tangier. From the last were received many African plants, which flourished in this country. Such efforts as these, by a native Scotsman, oc- curring at a time when the attention of the country seems to have been almost exclusively devoted to contending systems of church-government, are truly grateful to contemplate. It is only to be lamented, that the spirit which presided over them was pre- mature in its appearance; it found no genial field to act upon, and it was soon forgotten in the prevailing distraction of the public mind. Sir Andrew Balfour was the morning-star of science in Scotland, but he might almost be said to have set before the approach of day. He was created a baronet by Charles II., which seems to indicate that, like most men of literary and scientific character in that age, he maintained a senti- ment of loyalty to the existing dynasty and govern- ment, which was fast decaying from the nation. His interest with the ministry, and with the munici- pality of Edinburgh, seems to have always been con- siderable, and was uniformly exerted for the public good and for the encouragement of merit. Upon his settlement in Edinburgh, he had found the medical art taught in a very loose and irregular manner. In order to place it on a more respectable footing, he planned, with Sir Robert Sibbald, the Royal College of Physicians; and of that respectable society his brethren elected him the first president. When the college undertook the publication of a P/iarmacofcria, the whole arrangement of the materia medica was committed to his particular care. For such a task he was eminently qualified by his skill in natural history. This performance made its ap- pearance in 1685; and, in the opinion of Dr. Cullen, it is superior to any phm'tnacopecia of that era. Not long before his decease, his desire to promote the science of medicine in his native country, joined to the universal humanity of his disposition, led him to project the foundation of an hospital in Edinburgh. The institution was at first narrow and confined, but it survived to be expanded into full shape, as the Royal Infirmary, under the care of George Drum- mond. Sir Andrew died in 1694, in the sixty-fourth year of his age, after a severe conflict with the gout and other painful disorders; which afforded him an opportunity of displaying, upon theapproachof death, those virtues and that equanimity which had dis- tinguished him during his life. His person, like his mind and manners, was elegant, lie was possessed of a handsome figure, with a pleasing and expres- sive countenance; of a graceful elocution; and, by his natural disposition, as well as his long intercourse with the higher ranks in society, of a most courteous and polite demeanour. A print of him was executed at Paris; but no copy is known to exist. SIR JAMES BALFOUR. 6i His library and museum were the anxious result of fourteen years of travelling, and between twenty and thirty more of correspondence. For their accom- modation he had built an addition to his house when he had nearly arrived at his fortieth year; but after the building was completed, he found himself so infirm as to be unable to place them in that order which he intended. After his death his library, consisting of about 3000 volumes, besides manuscripts, was sold, we suppose by public auction. There is a printed catalogue still extant. His museum was deposited in the hall which was, till 1829, occupied as the uni- versity library. There it remained many years, use- less and neglected; some parts of it falling to inevit- able decay, and other parts being abstracted. "Yet, even after I750,"says Dr. Walker, "it still continued a considerable collection, which I have good reason to remember, as it was the sight of it, about that time, that first inspired me with an attachment to natural history. Soon after that period," to pursue a narrative so deeply disgraceful to the age and the institution referred to, "it was dislodged from the hall where it had been long kept; was thrown aside, and exposed as lumber; was further and further di- lapidated, and at length almost completely demol- ished. In the year 1782, out of its ruins and rubbish I extracted many pieces still valuable and useful, and placed them here in the best order I could. These, I hope, may remain long, and be considered as so many precious relics of one of the best and greatest men this country has produced." From the account that has been given of Sir An- drew Balfour, every person conversant in natural history or medicine must regret that he never ap- peared as an author. To his friend Mr. Murray of Livingston he addressed a series of familiar letters, for the direction of his researches while abroad. These letters, forming the only literary relics of Balfour, were subsequently published by his son, in the year 1700. BALFOUR, Sir James, an eminent lawyer and public character of the sixteenth century, was a son of Balfour of Monquhanny, in Fife, a very ancient family. In youth, being designed for the church, he made considerable proficiency, not only in ordinary literature, but in the study of divinity and law; which were all alike necessary in those times for an ecclesi- astic, on account of the mixed character which the age admitted to be assumed by such individuals. Balfour, while still a young man, was so unfortunate as to join with the conspirators who, after assassin- ating Cardinal Beaton, held out the castle of St. Andrews against the governor Arran. He seems, however, not to have been a very cordial partizan of the conspirators. John Knox, in his own vigorous and plain-spoken manner, styled him the Blasphoji- 011s Baljour, on account of his having refused to communicate along with his reforming associates. Balfour shared the fate of his companions in being sent to the French galleys, 1 and was confined in the 1 The f ill iwing mecdotc of Balfour in connection with Knox is related by 1 >r. M'Crie : -" The galleys returned to Scotland in summer 1541. as ne.ir as I can collect, and continued for a considerable time on the east coast, to watch for English vessels. Knox's health was now greatly impaired by thf severity of his confinement, and he was seized with a fever. during which his life was despaired of by all in the ship. But even in this state his fortitude of mind remained unsubdued, and he comforted his fell tw -pris .ners with hopes of release. To their anxious desponding inquiries, natural to men in their situation, ' If he thought they would ever obtain their liberty,' his uniform answer was. ' tlod will deliver us to his glorv, even in this life.' While they lay on the coast between Dundee and St. Andrews, Mr. afterwards Sir James Balfour, who was confined in the same ship, desired him to look at the VOL. I. same vessel along with Knox, from which he escaped in 1550, along with the rest, by the tacit permission of the French government. Balfour seems to have afterwards joined in the proceedings of the reformers, but only with courtier- like temperance, and without exhibiting much zeal in the Protestant cause. He was preferred to the ecclesiastical appointment of official of Lothian, and afterwards became rector of Flisk, a parish in his native county. In 1563 he was appointed by Queen Mary to be a lord of session, the court then being composed partly of churchmen and partly of laics. In 1564, when the commissary court was instituted in place of the ecclesiastical tribunal, which had been dissolved at the Reformation, Balfour became one of the four commissaries, with a salary of 400 merks, while the others had only 300. In July, 1565, the queen extended the further favour of admitting him into her privy-council. Balfour was one of those servants of the state who, being advanced rather on account of merit than birth, used at all times to give great offence to the Scottish nobility. It seems to have never been supposed by this haughty class, that there was the least necessity for talented or faithful service in the officials em- ployed by majesty; birth axi& following were the only qualifications allowed by them to be of any value. Accordingly, it is not surprising to find that the same conspiracy which overthrew the "kinless" ad- venturer Rizzio, contemplated the destruction of Balfour. He was so fortunate, however, as to escape, and even derived some advantage from the event, being promoted to the office of clerk-register, in rocm of Mr. James Macgill, who was concerned in the conspiracy. He was also about this time made a knight, and appointed to be one of the commis- sioners for revising, correcting, and publishing the ancient laws and statutes of the kingdom. In the beginning of the year 1567 Sir James Balfour was appointed governor of Edinburgh Castle. In this important situation he naturally became an object of great solicitude to the confederate lords, who, in the ensuing May, commenced a successful rebellion against Queen Mary. It would appear that Sir James was not now more loyal than many other persons who had experienced the favour of Mary. He is said to have even been the means of throwing into the hands of the confederates that celebrated box of letters upon which they endea- voured to ground the proof of her guilt. There can lie no doubt that he was at this time in the way of receiving high favours from the Earl of Murray, who was the chief man opposed to the dethroned queen. He was, in September, 1567, admitted by Murray a lord of his privy-council, and made commendator of the priory of Pittenweem; and in December, a bargain was accomplished, by which he agreed to accept a pension of £yx> and the presidency of the court of session, in lieu of the clerk-registry, which Murray wished to be restored to his friend Macgill. Sir James continued faithful to the party which opposed Queen Mary till the death of Murray, January, 1569-70, when he was in some measure compelled to revert to the queen's side, on account of a charge preferred against him by the succeeding regent. land and see if he knew it. Though at that time verv replied. 'Yes, 1 know it well, for I see the si : ' ' place where God first opened my n -• "> '• and I am fully persuaded, how weak soever I r » api ear, that I shall not depart this III - ■ f> his godly name in the same place.' This striking reply S:r .lames repeated in the presence 1 f many win ■ of years before Knox returned to S 1 wis \ cry little pr -poet of his words be in,; vei ifn i Krw.v, ist edit. p. 53. cs SIR JAMES BALFOUR. Lennox, who taxed him with a share in the murder of Darnley. For this accusation no proof was ever adduced, but even allowing Sir James to have been guilty, it will only add another to the list of great men concerned in the transaction, and show the more clearly how neither learning, rank, official dignity, nor any other ennobling qualification,' pre- vented a man in those days from staining his hands with blood. Balfour outlived Lennox, and was serviceable in bringing about the pacification between the king's and queen's party, under Morton, in 1 573- He would appear to have been encouraged by Mor- ton in the task of revising the laws of the country, which he at length completed in a style allowed at that time to be most masterly. Morton afterwards thought proper to revive the charge brought by Len- nox against Sir James, who was consequently obliged to retire to France, where he lived for some years. He returned in 15S0, and revenged the persecution of Morton, by producing against him, on his trial, a deed to which he had acceded, in common with others of the Scottish nobility, alleging BothwelPs innocence of the king's murder, and recommending him to the queen as a husband. Sir James died be- fore the 14th of January, 1583-4. As a politician his time-serving character, and facility with which he veered from one party to the other, was pithily characterized by the saying, "He wagged as the bush wagged." Each change of the political wind could be discovered by the changes of Sir James. The Practicks of Scots Line, compiled by Sir James Balfour of Pittendreich, president of the court of session, continued to be used and consulted in manu- script, both by students and practitioners, till nearly a century after his decease, when it was for the first time supplanted by the Institutes of Lord Stair. Even after that event it was held as a curious re- pertory of the old practices of Scottish law, besides fulfilling certain uses not answered by the work of Lord Stair. It was therefore printed in 1754 by the Ruddimans, along with an accurate biographical preface by Walter Goodal. The work was of con- siderable service to Dr. Jamieson in his Dictionary of the Scottish Language. BALFOUR, Sir James, an eminent antiquary, herald, and annalist, was born about the close of the sixteenth century. He was the eldest son of a small Fife laird, Michael Balfour of Denmylne, who de- rived his descent from James, son of Sir John Balfour of Balgarvy, a cadet l of the ancient and honourable house of Balfour of Balfour in fife, fames Balfour, the ancestor of Sir Michael, had obtained the estate of Denmylne from James II., in the fourteenth year of his reign, which corresponds with 1450-1. Michael Balfour, the father of Sir James, and also of Sir Andrew, whose life has been already commemo- rated, was, in the words of Sir Robert Sibbald, "equally distinguished for military bravery and civil prudence." He bore the honourable office of comp- troller of the Scottish household, in the reign of Charles I., and in 1630 was knighted at Holyrood House by George, Viscount Dupplin, chancellor of Scotland, under his majesty's special warrant. This eminent personage was, by Jean Durham, daughter of James Durham of Fitarrow, the father of five sons, all of whom attained to distinction in public life, besides nine daughters, who all formed honour- able alliances except two, who died unmarried. He 1 This branch was ennobled in 1607, in the person of Mil hael Balfour of Balgarvy, who, having served King James in several embassies to the principal courts of Kurope, was created Lord Balfour of Burleigh. This peerage was attainted in con- sequence of the concern of its occupant in the civil war of 17 15. lived to see three hundred of his own descendants, a number which his youngest son, Sir Andrew, lived to see doubled. Sir Michael Balfour gave his eldest son an educa- tion suitable to the extended capacity which he dis- played in his earliest years. This education, of which the fruits are apparent in his taste and writings, was accompanied by a thorough initiation into the duties of religion, as then professed on a Presbyterian model. The genius of the future antiquary was first exhibited in a turn for poetry, which was a favourite study among the scholars of that period, even where there was no particular aptitude to excel in its composition, but for which Sir James Balfour appears to have had a genuine taste. No specimens indeed of his poetry have survived, but the poetical temperament of Sir James, and the courtly grace which generally is, and ever ought to be, the accompaniment of that character, is shown in the following epistle to a lady, which we consider a very elegant specimen of the English prose of the age of Charles I., and, indeed, singularly so, when the native country of the writer is considered: — "To a Lady -for a Friend, "Madam, — You 'must appardone me if, after the remembring of my best love to you, I should rander you hartly thanks for your affectione, since thankes are the best knowen blossomes of the hartes strongest desyres. I never, for my pairt, doubtit of your affec- tione, bot persuadit myselve that so good a creature could never prove unconstant; and altho the fairest dayes may have some stormy overshadowings, yet I persuade myselve that these proceids not from hea- venly thinges, bot from vapors arising from below, and though they for a tyme conte[ract] the sun's heat, yet make they that heat in the end to be more powerfull. I hope your friends sail have all the con- tentment that laves in my power to gif them: And, since Malice itselve can not judge of you bot noblie, 1 wisch that tyme make your affectione als constant, as my harte sail ever prove, and remaine loyallj and lest I seime to weirey you more than myselve, again I must beg pardone for all my oversights (if you think of aney) wich will be a rare perfectione of goodness in you to forgive freely, and love constantly him quhosse greatest happines under heaven is always to leive and die "Your trewly affectionat servant." .Sir James seems to have spent some of the years subsequent to 1626 in foreign countries, where he is said to have improved himself much by observing the manners of nations more polished than his own, and by forming the acquaintance of eminent literary men. At the close of his continental travels he spent some time in London, and obtained the friend- ship of the distinguished antiquary Sir Robert Cot- ton, and also of Sir William Segar, garter king-at- arms. He had now turned his attention to the study of heraldry, and the friendship of these men was of material service in the completion of what might be called his professional education. He also contracted a literary acquaintance with Roger Dods- worth and Sir William Dugdale, to whom he com- municated several charters and other pieces of in- formation regarding Scottish ecclesiastical antiquities, which they attached to their Monasticon Anglicanum, under the title Ccenobia Scotica. Besides these antiquarian friends, Balfour secured several others of a more courtly complexion, who were natives of his own country. He enjoyed the friendship of Sir Robert Aytoun, the poetical cour- tier, with whom he afterwards became distantly con- nected by marriage. He was also on the most SIR JAMES BALFOUR. <7 familiar terms with another poetical attendant on the elegant court of Charles I. — the Earl of Stirling. His chief patron, however, was George, Viscount Dupplin, l who held the high and almost vice-regal office of chancellor of Scotland. By the recom- mendation of this nobleman, aided by his own ex- cellent qualifications, he was created by Charles I. lord-lyon king-at-arms, a dignified legal office in Scotland, in which resides the management of all matters connected with armorial honours, as also all public ceremonials. Sir Jerome Lyndsay having previously resigned the office, Balfour was crowned and installed at Holyrood Mouse, June 15, 1630, having in the preceding month been invested with the necessary honour of knighthood by the king. On this occasion Lord Dupplin officiated as royal commissioner. Sir James Balfour now settled in Scotland, in the enjoyment of his office. On the 21st of October he was married to Anna Aiton, daughter of Sir John Aiton of that ilk, and in January, 1631, he obtained, in favour of himself and his spouse, a grant of the lands and barony of Kinnaird in Fife. In De- cember, 1633, he was created a baronet by Charles I., probably in consequence of the able manner in which he marshalled the processions and managed the other ceremonials of the royal visit that year. At this period of peace and prosperity a number of learned and ingenious men were beginning to exert themselves in Scotland. It was a peaceful interval between the desolating civil wars of the minority of King James and the equally unhappy contest which was soon after incited by religious and political dis- sensions. Like soldiers enjoying themselves during a truce, the people were beginning to seek for and cultivate various sources of amusement in the more elegant arts. This was the era of Jamieson the painter — of Drummond the poet — of the geographer Font — and the historians Spottiswood, Calderwood, Johnston, and Hume. 2 Sir James Balfour, inspired with the common spirit of these men, commenced the writing of history with as much zeal as could be expected in an age when, the printing of a written work being a comparatively rare occurrence, litera- ture might be said to want the greater part of its temptations. Sir James, as already mentioned, had been bred a strict Fresbyterian. In this profession he con- tinued to the last, notwithstanding that, in politics, he was an equally firm royalist. In a letter to a young nobleman (Correspondence, Advocates' Li- brary) he is found advising a perusal of "Calvine, Beza, Parens, and \Yhittaker,"as "orthodox writers." 1 Afterwards created Earl of Kinnoul, on the occasion of the coronation of King Charles at Edinburgh in 1633. Sir James Balfour relates the following curious anecdote of his lordship. The king, in 1626, had commanded, by a letter to his privy council, that the Archbishop of St. Andrews should have precedence of the chancellor. To this his lordship would never submit. "I remember," says Sir James, "that K. Charles sent me to the lord-chancellor on the day of his coronation, in the morning, to show him that it was his will and pleasure, hot onlie for that day, that he wold ceed and give way to the archbishop; but he returned by me to his majestie a wery bru-ke answer, which was, that he was ready in all humility to lay his office doune at his majestie's feet; bot since it was his royal will he should enjoy it with the knowen privileges of the same, never a priest in Scotland should sett a foot before him, so long as his blood was hote. Quhen I had related his answer to the kinge, he said, ' Weel, Lyone, letts goe to business: I will not medle farther with that olde cankered gootish man, at quhose hand ther is no- thing to be gained bot soure words.'" What makes this anecdote the more expressively illustrative of the rancour with which the secular officers and nobility beheld the newly dig- nified clergy is, that the lord-chancellor had just on the pre- ceding afternoon been raised to the rank of Earl of Kinnoul. 1 David Hume of Godscruft, author of the History 0/ the House of Dougias. When the introduction of the liturgy imposed by Charles I. roused Scotland from one end to the other in a fit of righteous indignation, Sir James Balfour, notwithstanding his connection with the government, joined cordially with his countrymen, and wrote an account of the tumult of the 23d of July, under the burlesque title of Stoneyfidd Day. But, though indignant, in common with all people of his own persuasion, at the religious innovations attempted by the government, Sir James appears to have very soon adopted different feelings. Like many moderate persons who had equally condemned the ill-advised conduct of the king, he afterwards began to fear that the opposition would produce greater mischiefs than the evil which was opposed. It was probably in consequence of this feeling that he retired to the royal hunting-palace of Falkland, where, and at his seat of Kinnaird, he devoted him- self to those studies by which the present may be forgotten in the past. His annals, however, show that he still occasionally appeared in public affairs in his capacity of lord-lyon. It is also clear that his political sentiments must have been of no obtrusive character, as he continued in his office during the whole term of the civil war, and was only at last deprived of it by Cromwell. During his rural re- tirement at Falkland and Kinnaird, he collected many manuscripts relative to heraldry, and wrote many others in his own language, of which some are preserved in the Advocates' Library, while others were either lost at the capture of Perth (1651), to which town he had conveyed them for safety, or have since been dispersed. Persevering with par- ticular diligence in illustrating the History of Scot- land, he had recourse to the ancient charters and diplomas of the kingdom, the archives of monasteries, and registers of cathedral churches, and in his library was a great number of chronicles of monasteries, both originals and the abridgments; but it is to be deeply regretted that many of these valuable manu- scripts fell into the hands of children, or perished in the flames during the civil wars. A few only were opportunely rescued from destruction by those who were acquainted with their value. The style of these monastic chronicles was indeed rude and barbarous- but they were remarkable for the in- dustry, judgment, and fidelity to truth, with which they were compiled. Por some time after the erec- tion of monasteries in this kingdom, these writers were almost the only, and certainly the most re- spectable, observers in literature, as scarcely any other persons preserved in writing the memory of the important occurrences of the times. In these registers and chronicles were to be found an accurate record of transactions with foreign powers, whether in forming alliances, contracting marriages of state. or regulating commerce ; letters and bulls of the holy see; answers, edicts, and statutes of kings; church rescripts; provincial constitutions; acts ot parliament; battles; deaths of eminent persons; epitaphs and inscriptions; and sometimes the natural appearances of the seasons; the prevalent diseases: miracles and prodigies; the heresies that sprung up, with an account of the authors and their puni>h- ments. In short, they committed to writing even- important occurrence in church and state, that any question arising in after-ages might be settled by their authority, and the unanimous confirmation 01 their faithful and accurate chronicles. In ci Ilecting and preserving these manuscripts. Kallour therefore raised a monument to his memory winch the posterity must revere. For he did so irom .' viction that these old and approved auth r.> wi onlv miides to the knowledge of facts, as we'd as 6S SIR JAMES BALFOUR ROBERT BALFOUR. to correct evidence and reasoning on the remote history of Scotland; and he considered them not only of signal use to himself, but a valuable treasure to the literature of the country. He therefore per- severed throughout life in collecting such manuscripts, without regard to either trouble or expense. The catalogue which he left is still extant, 1 although many, as already mentioned, were lost by the depre- dations of the English and other causes. He formed with great industry, and at a considerable expense, a library of the most valuable books on every subject, particularly in the branches of Scottish history, antiquities, and heraldry. From these he extracted every assistance they could afford in the pursuit of his inquiries, and for further aid he estab- lished a correspondence with the most respectable living historians, .such as Robert Maule, Henry Maule, David Buchanan, Gordon of Straloch, and Drummond of Hawthornden, all of whom he regarded through life with the warmest esteem and with the greatest respect for their talents and accomplish- ments. He endeavoured to elucidate our history (which was then involved in confusion) from the examina- tion of ancient medals, coins, rings, bracelets, and other relics of antiquity, of which he formed a separate collection as an appendage to his library. Observing also from historians that the Romans had long been settled in Scotland, and had made desperate attempts to expel our ancestors, both Scots and Picts, he collected the inscriptions which they had left on certain stone buildings, and tran- scribed them among his notes. In compiling the work to which he gave the title of Annals, our author was more anxious to supply the deficiencies of other historians, and to bring to light obscure records, than to exhibit a continued and regular history of Scotland. He therefore carefully ex- tracted from old manuscripts, the names, dignities, and offices of distinguished public characters, the dates of remarkable transactions, and every other circumstance of importance, and arranged them in separate paragraphs. He was actuated by a generous disposition to rescue from oblivion and the grave the memory of illustrious men; for which purpose he visited all the cathedrals and the principal parish churches of the kingdom, and examined their sepul- chres and other monuments, from which he copied the epitaphs and inscriptions, carefully preserving them in a volume. He deeply interested himself in some laudable attempts to improve the geography of Scotland. Sir James made also a survey of Fife, his native county, examining particularly ancient monuments, and the genealogies of the principal families. He afterwards compiled a description of the whole kingdom, of which the manuscript was so useful to Bleau, that he dedicated to our author the map of Lome in his Theatrum Scotia;, and em- bellished it witli the arms of Balfour. Zealous in the improvement and knowledge of heraldry, he carefully reviewed, not only the public acts and diplomas of nobility, but the contents of ancietit edifices, temples, and palaces, shields and sepulchral monuments. When it had become proper, from his years, to allow the Prince of Wales a separate establishment, an inquiry was ordered con- cerning the revenues of the hereditary princes, as stewards or lords-marshal of Scotland, in which Balfour appears to have taken part, as we find among his manuscripts the following: "The true present state of the principality of Scotland, with the means how the same may be most conveniently 1 Mattoria Bat/ouriana, p. ij-;> increased and augmented; with which is joined ane survey, and brief notes from the public registers of the kingdoms, of certain infeftmentsand confirmations given to princes of Scotland; and by them to their vassals of diverse baronies and lands of the princi- palitie, since the fifteenth year of the reign of Robert III." In the history of this country he displayed his uncommon industry in his numerous collection of manuscripts, in the great assemblage of historical works in his own library, and in his careful inspec- tion of the various manuscripts dispersed over the kingdom, from which he generally extracted the substance, if he did not wholly transcribe them, forming a general index to such as were useful in Scottish history. Pie made several abridgments of the registers of Scone, Cambuskenneth, and others, and from the works of Major, Boece, P.eslie, and Buchanan, which, in proper order, formed parts of his chronological works, along with relations of im- portant transactions throughout the world. Besides this he wrote a remarkably concise yet comprehen- sive History of the Kings of Scotland, from Fergus I. to Charles I. He also intended to have enlarged the annals of the Scottish Kings from James I. to the beginning of Charles IP, of which he had finished the two first James's on a more diffuse and extensive scale. In other works, he wrote memoirs of James IIP IV. V., of Queen Mary, and of James VP, and the transactions of Charles P, brought down to his death. In natural history, he wrote an alphabetical list of gems, with descriptions, their names and qualities, and the places where they are produced. Another work upon the same subject, written in Patin, exhibited, from various authors, an account of ingenious inventions or frauds practised in counterfeiting and imitating precious stones. Sir James concluded an industrious, and, it would appear, a most blameless life, in February, 1657, when he must have been about sixty years of age. He had been four times married: 1st, to Anna Aiton, by whom he had three sons and six daughters, and who died August 26th, 1644; 2d, to Jean Durham, daughter of the laird of Pitarrow, his own cousin, who died without issue only eleven months subse- quent to the date of his first wife's death; 3d, to Margaret Arnot, only daughter of Sir James Arnot of Fernie, by whom he had three sons and three daughters; 4th, to Janet Auchinleck, daughter of Sir William Auchinleck of Balmanno, by whom he had two daughters. Yet his family is now extinct in the male line. The Annals and Short Passages of State, above alluded to, were, after nearly two centuries of manuscript obscurity, published in 1824, in 4 volumes 8vo, by Mr. James Haig of the Advocates' Pibrary. BALFOUR, Robert, a distinguished philosopher of the seventeenth century, was principal of Guyenne College, Bordeaux, and is mentioned byMorhofas a celebrated commentator on Aristotle. According to Dempster, he was "the phcenix of his age; a philosopher profoundly skilled in the Greek and Patin languages; a mathematician worthy of being compared with the ancients: and to those qualifica- tions he joined a wonderful suavity of manners, and the utmost warmth of affection towards his country- men." This eminent personage appears to have been one of that numerous class of Scotsmen, who, having gained all their honours in climes more genial to science than Scotland was a few centuries ago, are to this day better known abroad than among their own countrymen. According to the fantastic Urquhart, who wrote in the reign of Charles P, DR. ROBERT BALFOUR. 69 "Most of the Scottish nation, never having astricted themselves so much to the proprieties of words as to the knowledge of things, where there was one pre- ceptor of languages amongst them, there were above forty professors of philosophy: nay, to so high a pitch did the glory of the Scottish nation attain over all the parts of France, and for so long a time continue in that obtained height, by virtue of an ascendant the French conceived the Scots to have above all nations, in matter of tl..-ir subtlety in philosophical discepta- tions, that there hath not been, till of late, for these several ages together, any lord, gentleman, or other, in all that country, who being desirous to have his son instructed in the principles of philosophy, would intrust him to the discipline of any other than a Scottish master; of whom, they were no less proud than Philip was of Aristotle, or Tullius of Cratippus. And if it occurred (as very often it did) that a pre- tender to a place in any French university, having, in his tenderer years, been subferulary to some other kind of schooling, should enter in competition with another aiming at the same charge and dignity, whose learning flowed from a Caledonian source, commonly the first was rejected and the other preferred." It nevertheless appears that Robert Balfour prosecuted the study of philology, as well as that of philosophy, with considerable success. 1 1 is edition of Cleomedes, published at Bordeaux, in 1605, " Zatine versa, etper- petuo commentario illustrata" is spoken of in the highest terms of praise by the erudite Barthius. Other works by Balfour are, Ge/asii Cyziccni Com- mentaritis Actorum XiclCiu Concilii, Roberto Balforeo i titer prete, 1604, folio; Commentaries R. Balforei in Organum Logicnm Aristotelis, 1616, 4to; and R. Hal fore i Scoti Commentariornm in lib. Arist. de Philosophia, (omits seciuidus, 1620, 410. BALFOUR, Dr. Robert. — This distinguished minister of the Church of Scotland was born in Edinburgh, in April, 1740. He was early trained by his pious parents to the knowledge and practice of Christianity. He received his education at Edin- burgh, and when a mere youth he became a member of a society which met for religious conversation and prayer. The devotional tendency of his mind, thus early acquired, was a prominent feature of his charac- ter through life. Of his college career no record has been preserved. In 1 774 he was ordained to the ministry of the gospel in the small rural charge of Lecropt, near Stirling. Here he laboured with much acceptance for five years, not inattentive mean- while to his personal improvement, and in his pulpit duties giving no doubtful presages of the professional distinction and influence to which he was destined to rise. In June, 1779, he was translated to the ( Hiter High Church of Glasgow, then vacant by the removal of .Mr. Randal (afterwards Dr. Davidson) to Kdinburgh. At the time of Dr. Balfour's settlement in Glasgow evangelical religion was at a low ebb in the Estab- lished Church throughout Scotland, and Moderatism was in the ascendant. Dr. Balfour, from the outset of his ministry, warmly espoused the evangelical cause, which he recommended alike by the power of his preaching and by the active benevolence and consistency of his life. His ministry in Glasgow gave a fresh impulse to the revival and diffusion of pure and utulefiled religion in the west of Scotland. Christian missions were then in their infancv, and in Sc itland met with much opposition from the domi- nant party in the Established Church. Dr. Balfour was cue of the founders of the Glasgow Missionary Society, which was established in 1 796. a few months after the institution of the London Missionary Society. lie preached a striking sermon at the commencement of the society, which was one of the few discourses he ventured on publishing; and one of his last public acts, twenty-two years after- wards, was to sign a circular letter as its' president. The following passage from the discourse just men- tioned bears testimony to the earnest interest he felt in the missionary cause, and affords an example of a style of appeal, which, with the aid of his me- lodious voice, keen eye, and graceful and fervid elocution, must have proved singularly animating. After describing the true missionary spirit and char- acter, he proceeded — "We invite and press all of this description to come forward full of the Holy- Ghost and of faith. We cannot, we will not tempt you with worldly prospects — if you are right-hearted men according to your profession, you will not seek great things for yourselves — you must not think of an easy life — you must labour hard — you must en- counter difficulties, opposition, and dangers; for these, however, you are not unprovided. We will follow you with our prayers, and with every blessing in our power to bestow. But what is of infinitely greater moment and advantage to you is, that the Lord Jesus, whose religion you are to teach, will be with you, and that he is greater than all who can be against you. Depending then on him alone for your own salvation, and for the salva- tion of the heathen; seeking not your own pleasure, profit, or honour, but that he may be glorified in and by you, and by sinners converted from the error of their way, be not afraid — be strong and of good courage. To all who thus devote themselves to his service we most heartily bid God speed. Fly, ye angels of grace, from pole to pole, and from the rivers to the ends of the earth, bearing to all men the glad tidings of the everlasting gospel; stop not in this bold flight of philanthropy, till you convey to the simple sons of the isles the knowledge of the true God and eternal life — till you arrest the wander- ings of the roving savage with the wonders of re- deeming grace — till you dart the beams of celestial light and love into the dark habitations of ignorance and cruelty — till you convert the barbarous cannibal to humanity, to Christian gentleness and goodness. Hasten to the shores of long-injured Africa, not to seize and sell the bodies of men, but to save their perishing souls. Follow the miserable captives to their several sad destinations of slavery, with the inviting proclamation of spiritual liberty, while you inculcate the strictest duty to their masters. Speed your way to India, to repay her gold with the un- searchable riches of Christ. Meet all the high pre- tensions of the Brahmin religion and literature, and all their fatal delusions and cruel impositions, with the overpowering evidence of the Christian as a divine revelation — with the full luminous display of evangelical truth and holiness. Cease not, til see the whole earth filled with the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the channel of the sea. Dr. Balfour was an eloquent man, but his v. . an eloquence which sought its reward in popular applause. It flowed spontaneously from a heart deeply imbued with love to the Saviour and to the souls of men. Lamest preaching made earnest listening, and whilst his reputation in the | continued unimpaired to the close of his life, the fruits of his ministry were abundant, and lr.s in- fluence extended far beyond the limits congregation. His preaching was clear and com- prehensive; textual, luminous, and ] ; a remarkable intimacy with the varieties : ' experience, and a profound knowledge o< human nature; animated with a warm and persuassvi earnest- 7o ROBERT BALFOUR EDWARD BALIOL. ness; faithful and close in applying the truth; and exhibiting an exuberant flow of appropriate and powerful expression. He was not in the habit of writing his discourses at full length, but his prepara- tions for the pulpit were never relaxed. Although not displaying the plodding habits of the scholar, he kept up his knowledge of general literature, and cultivated an acquaintance with the works of the best authors in his own profession. His morning hours were consecrated to study and devotion. He possessed the power of readily commanding his thoughts in the intervals of daily occupation, and was in the habit, to use his own expression, of "carrying about" with him the subjects on which he intended to preach. His stores of thought and illustration were ample and exuberant, and, being gifted with a ready utterance, he could on every occasion express himself with ease and propriety. Without the appearance of much labour, therefore, he was able to appear in the pulpit with a felicity and success to which men of inferior minds find it impossible to attain after the most laborious efforts. He seldom engaged in controversy, and did not often obtrude himself upon the notice of church courts, for the business of which, however, he showed no want of aptitude. His modesty and humility prevented him from issuing more than a few of his more public and elaborate productions through the press. An anecdote is related of him, which illus- trates his disinclination to publish, as well as the readiness with which lie could draw in an emergency upon the resources of his richly-stored mind. On one occasion, after having preached with much acceptance on the divinity of Christ, he was waited upon by a young man, who, on his own part and that of two companions, preferred an urgent request that he would print his discourse, assigning as a reason that it had completely relieved their minds of doubts which they had been led to entertain on this momentous doctrine, and that it was fitted to have the same effect upon the minds of others similarly situated. On the doctor expressing his aversion to appear in print, his visitor entreated the favour of a perusal of the manuscript. In this he was equally unsuccessful; for it then appeared that the doctor, on proceeding to the church, had found himself — from some unwonted and inexplicable cause — utterly in- capable of recalling the train of thought which had occupied his mind in preparing for the pulpit; and at the last moment he was under the necessity of choosing a new text, from which he delivered the unpremeditated discourse that had produced such a salutary impression upon the minds of his three youthful hearers. His attachment to his congregation was evinced on the occasion of his receiving an offer to be pre- sented to Lady Glenorchy's chapel in Edinburgh, which he declined, although, in a worldly point of view, it possessed considerable advantages over his charge in Glasgow. He was alike frank, friendly, and accessible to all classes of his people, and had always a kind word for the poor. He showed great tact in dealing with the humbler members of his flock, who sometimes came to the good man with unreasonable complaints. When the old-fashioned practice of the precentor reading line by line of the psalm was discontinued, an ancient dame presented herself to the minister, to express her concern at the innovation, at the same time gently reproaching him for departing from a good old custom of our pious forefathers — a custom, be it remembered, which had been introduced at a time when few persons in a congregation were able to read. "Oh, Janet," re- plied the doctor, in a tone of kindly remonstrance, "I read the psalm, and you sing it; what's the use of coining over it a third time?" "Ou, sir," was the ready answer, "I juist like to gust my gab wi't!" In process of time "repeating tunes" were intro- duced in the precentor's desk, and Janet hastened forthwith to the minister, to lodge her complaint against the profane innovation. "What's the matter wi' ye now?" inquired the doctor, as he welcomed the worthy old dame into his presence. "The sang tunes, wi' their o'ercomes brocht into the worship of the sanctuary," quoth she; "it's juist usin' vain repetitions, as the heathens do." "Oh dear no, Janet," slyly interposed the doctor, "we juist like to gust our gabs wi't !" Dr. Balfour married, in November, 1774, Isabella Stark, daughter of Mr. Stark, collector of excise at Kirkcaldy. She died in October, 1 781. In June, 1787, he married Catherine M 'Gilchrist, daughter of Mr. Archibald M 'Gilchrist, town-clerk of the city of Glasgow. She died in May, 1817. These were not the only instances of domestic bereavement which he experienced in the course of his life. He preached on the day after the celebration of the Lord's supper at Dumbarton, in July, 1786, with an earnestness and solemnity more fervid and im- pressive than ordinary, as if his mind were under a powerful impulse. On his way home he received information of the death of a beloved and only son, in circumstances fitted deeply to wound his heart. Henry, a fine spirited boy, had been left by his father, then a widower, during an absence of some days, under the charge of Mr. and Mrs. Denniston of West Thorn, and was accidently drowned in the Clyde. After recovering from the first paroxysm of grief occasioned by the heart-rending intelligence, Dr. Balfour hastened to tender his sympathy to his deeply afflicted friends, whose kindness had been permitted to prove the innocent cause of involving him and his family in this calamity. This he did, in the first instance, in a letter of touching pathos and beauty, which afterwards found its way to the public, and was embodied in a little volume of Letters addressed to Christians in Affliction, published in 181 7. The death of his son Archibald took place- many years previously, on the day when he preached the sermon by appointment of the Glasgow Mission- ary Society. I lis own death was sudden. On the 13th of October, 1818, Dr. Balfour appeared to be in his usual health and spirits. In the course of the day he became unwell while walking out with a friend, and made an effort to return home. But his illness increasing, he was assisted into a friend's house in George Street, from which it was deemed imprudent to attempt to remove him. The symp- toms were found to be those of apoplexy. He con- tinued in a state of insensibility till the evening of the next day, the 14th, when he expired. He died in the seventy-first year of his age and forty-fifth year of his ministry. BALIOL, Edward. King John Baliol had two sons, Edward and Henry. The former seems en- titled to some notice in this work, on account of his vigorous, though eventually unsuccessful, attempt to regain the crown lost by his father. When King John entered into the treaty with the King of France, in 1295, it was stipulated in the first article that his son Edward should marry the daughter of Charles of Valois, niece to the French monarch, receiving with her 25,000 livres de Tournois current money, and assigning to her, as a dowry, ^1500 sterling of yearly rent, of which ^"iooo should be paid out of King John's lands of Baliol, Dampier, Helicourt, and Home, in France, and ,£500 out of those of EDWARD BALIOL. 7< Lanark, Cadzow, Cunningham, 1 Haddington, and the castle of Dundee, in Scotland. This young prince accompanied his father in his captivity in the Tower, and was subsequently carried with him to France. After the death of John Baliol, Edward quietly suc- ceeded to. the French family estates, upon which he lived unnoticed till 1324, when Edward II. com- manded that he should be brought over to England, apparently for the purpose of being held up as a rival to Robert Bruce. Whether he now visited England or not is uncertain; but it would rather appear that he did not, as in 1326 he was invited by Edward III. for the same purpose. At this time the English monarch was endeavouring to secure a peace with the King of Scots, but at the same time held him- self prepared for war by mustering his barons at Newcastle. He seems to have thought that a threat of taking Baliol under his patronage was apt to quicken thedesiresof the Scots for anaccommodation. Nevertheless, in the summer of this year, the Scots made a bold and successful incursion into England, under Randolph and Douglas, and King Edward was obliged, April, 1328, to consent to the treaty of Northampton, which acknowledged at once the in- dependency of the Scottish crown, and the right of Robert Bruce to wear it. No more is heard of Edward Baliol till after the death of Bruce, when he was tempted by the apparent weakness of Scotland under the minority of David II. to attempt the recovery of his birthright. Two English barons, Henry de Beaumont and Thomas Lord Wake, claimed certain estates in Scotland, which had been declared their property by the treaty of Northamp- ton; Randolph, the Scottish regent, distrusting the sincerity of the English in regard to other articles of this treaty, refused to restore those estates; and the two barons accordingly joined with Baliol in his design. That the English king might not be sup- posed accessory to so gross a breach of the treaty, he issued a proclamation against their expedition; but they easily contrived to ship 400 men-at-arms and 3000 infantry at Holderness, all of whom were safely landed on the coast of Fife, July 31, 1332. Only eleven days before this event, the Scottish people had been bereft of their brave regent, Randolph, Earl of Moray, who was almost the last of those worthies by whom the kingdom of Bruce had been won and main- tained. The regency fell into the hands of Donald, Earl of Mar, in every respect a feebler man. Baliol, having beat back some forces which opposed his land- ing, moved forward to Forteviot, near Perth, where the F.arl of Mar appeared with an army to dispute his farther progress. As the Scottish forces were much superior in number and position to the English, Baliol found himself in a situation of great jeopardy, and would willingly have retreated to his ships, had that been possible. Finding, however, no other re- sourcethan to fight, he led his forcesat midnight across the Erne, surprised the Scottish camp in a state of the most disgraceful negligence, and put the whole to the rout. This action, fought on the 12th of Au- gust, was called the battle of Dupplin. The con- queror entered Berth, and for some time found no resistance to his assumed authority. On the 24th of September he was solemnly crowned at Scone. The friends of the line of Bruce, though unable to offer a formal opposition, appointed Andrew Moray of Bothwell to be regent in the room of the Earl of 1 "John Baliol is known to have possessed in Cunning- hun the following lands: Largs, N'oddesdale, Southannan. fairy, Giffin, Cumsheuch, Dreghom, the great barony of Kilmarnock, together with I! indinton and Hartshaw; extend- ing in all to about ;£oooo Scots "t valued rent, or about .£15,000 real rent at present. ' -Kotertscn's Ayrshire Families. Mar, who had fallen at Dupplin. At Roxburgh, on the 23d of November, Baliol solemnly acknowledged Edward of England for his liege lord, and surrendered to him the town and castle of Berwick, "on account of the great honour and emoluments which he had procured through the good-will of the English king, and the powerful and acceptable aid contributed by his people." The two princes also engaged on this occasion to aid each other in all their respective wars. Many of the Scottish chiefs now submitted to Baliol, and it does not appear improbable that he might have altogether retrieved a kingdom which was certainly his by the laws of hereditary succes- sion. But on the 15th of December, the adherents of the opposite dynasty surprised him in his turn at Annan, overpowered his host, and having slain his brother Henry, and many other distinguished men, obliged him to flee, almost naked, and with hardly a single attendant, to England. His subsequent efforts, though not so easily counteracted, were of the same desultory character. He returned into Scotland in March, and lay for some time at Rox- burgh with a small force. In May, 1333, he joined his forces with King Edward, and reduced the town of Berwick. The Scottish regent being overthrown at Halidon Hill, July 19, for a time all resistance to the claims of Baliol ceased. In a parliament held at Edinburgh in February, he ratified the former treaty with King Edward, and soon after surrendered to that monarch the whole of the counties on the frontier, together with the province of Lothian, as part of the kingdom of England. His power, how- ever, was solely supported by foreign influence, and, upon the rise of a few of the hostile Scottish baron-, in November, 1334, he again fled to England. In July, 1335, Edward III. enabled him to return under the protection of an army. But, notwithstanding the personal presence and exertions of no less a warrior than the victor of Cressy, the Scots never could altogether be brought under the .-way of this vassal king. For two or three years Edward Baliol held a nominal sway at Berth, while the greater part of the country was in a state of rebellion against him. The regent Andrew Moray, dying in July, 1338, was succeeded by Robert Stewart, the grand- son of Bruce and nephew of David II., who having threatened to besiege Baliol in Perth, obliged him to retreat once more to England. The greater part of the country speedily fell under the dominion of the regent, nor was Edward III. now able to re- trieve it, being fully engaged in Ins French wars. The Scots having made an incursion, in 1344, into England, Baliol, with the forces of the northern counties, was appointed to oppose them. Two years after this period, when the fatal battle of Dur- ham and the capture of David II. had again reduced the strength of Scotland, Baliol raised an insurrec- tion in Galloway, where his family connection- ^.vc him great influence, and speedily penetrated to the central parts of the kingdom. He gained, however, no permanent footing. For some years afti period Scotland maintained a noble struggle, it- regent Robert Stewart, against both the preten- sions of this adventurer and the power of the K:ng of England, till at length, in 1355 6. we.irii with an unavailing contest, and feeling the a; ; of old age. Baliol resigned all his hands of Edward III. tor the considerat; merks, and a yearly pen-ion of /20OO. -Mi surrender, which was transacted at Ki ■ included his personal estates, as well a- ; . this unfortunate prince retired to England, " 1 ne late of Edward Baliol," -ay- Lord Ilaiies. "was s-i-iri'J ir. In l--s ■■- ■ ■ >n . ■ -. ■ .. >e 72 JOHN BALIOL. minority of. David Bruce, he displayed a bold spirit of enterprise, and a courage superior to all difficulties. By the victory at Dupplin he won a crown; some few weeks after, he was surprised at Annan and lost it. The overthrow of the Scots at Halidon, to which he signally contributed, availed not to his re- establishment. Year after year he saw his partisans fall away, and range themselves under the banner of his competitor. He became the pensioner of Edward III. and the tool of his policy, assumed or laid aside at pleasure: and at last, by his surrender at Roxburgh, he did what in him lay to entail the calamities of war upon the Scottish nation, a nation already miserable through the consequences of a regal succession disputed for threescore years. The remainder of his days was spent in obscurity; and the historians of that kingdom where he once reigned know not the time of his death." It may further be mentioned, that neither these historians, nor the Scottish people at large, ever acknowledged Edward Baliol as one of the line of Scottish monarchs. The right of the family of Bruce, though inferior in a hereditary point of view, having been confirmed by parliament on account of the merit of King Robert, this shadowy intruder, though occasionally dominant through the sword, could never be considered the legitimate monarch, more especially as he degraded himself and his country by a professed surrender of its independence, and even of a part of its territory, to a foreign enemy. He died childless, and, it would also appear, unmarried, in 1363, when he must have been advanced to at least the age of seventy. BALIOL, John, King of Scotland, was the son of John de Baliol, of Bernard's Castle in the county of Durham, a lord of great opulence, being possessed of thirty knights' fees (equal to ^12,000 of modern money), and who was a steady adherent of Henry III. in all his civil wars. The mother of Baliol was Devorgilla, one of the three daughters and co-' heiresses of Allan, Lord of Galloway, by Margaret, eldest daughter of David, Earl of Huntingdon, brother of Malcolm IV. and William the Lion, kings of Scotland. The fir.->t of the English family of Baliol was a Norman noble, proprietor of the manors of Baliol, Harcourt, Dampat, and Home in France, and who, coming over with the Conqueror, left a son, Guy, whom William Rufus appointed to be lord of the forest of Teesdale and Marwood, giving him at the same time the lands of Middleton and Guise- ford in Northumberland. Guy was the father of Bernard, who built the strong castle on the Tees, called from him Bernard's Castle. Eustace, son of this noble, was the father of Hugh, who was the father of John de Baliol, 1 the father of the King of Scotland. 1 Johnde Baliol has distinguished himself in English literary history, by founding one of the colleges of Oxford, which still bears his name. As this institution is connected in more ways than one with Scotland, the following account of its foundation, from Chalmers History of Oxford, may be read with interest: — " The wealth and political consequence of John de Baliol were dignified by a love of learning, and a benevolence of disposi- tion, which about the year 1263 or 1268, as Wood thinks , induced him to maintain certain poor scholars of Oxford, in number sixteen, by exhibitions, perhaps with a view to some more permanent establishment, when he should have leisure to mature a plan for that purpr.se. On his death in 1269, which appears from this circumstance to have been sudden, he could only recommend the objects of his bounty to his lady and his executors, but left no written deed or authority: and as what he had formerly given was from his personal estate, now in other hands, the farther care of his scholars would in all probability have ceased, had not his lady been persuaded to fulfil his intention in the most honourable manner, by taking upon herself the future maintenance of them '1 he The circumstances which led to the appearance of John Baliol in Scottish history may be thus briefly narrated. By the death of Alexander III. the crown of Scotland devolved on the Maiden of Norway, Margaret, the only child of Alexander's daughter, late Queen of Norway. As she was only three years of age, and residing in foreign parts, the convention of estates made choice of six noblemen to be regents of the kingdom during her absence or minority; but dissensions soon arising among them, Eric, King of Norway, interposed, and sent plenipotentiaries to treat with Edward, King of England, concerning the affairs of the infant queen and her kingdom. Edward had already formed a scheme for uniting England and Scotland, by the marriage of his eldest son with Margaret, and accordingly, after holding conferences at Salisbury, he sent an embassy to the parliament of Scotland on the iSth of July, 1290, with full powers to treat of this projected alliance. The views of Edward were cheerfully met by the parliament of Scotland: a treaty was drawn out honourable to both parties, in which — to guard against any danger that might arise from so strict an alliance with such a powerful and ambitious neighbour — the freedom and independency of Scotland were fully acknowledged and secured; and commissioners were despatched to Norway to conduct the young queen into her domin- ions. But this fair hope of lasting peace and union was at once overthrown by the death of the princess on her passage to Britain; and the crown of Scotland became a bone of contention between various competitors, the chief of whom were John Baliol, Lord of Galloway; Robert Bruce, Lord of Annan- dale; and John Hastings, Lord of Abergavenny. In order to understand the grounds of their several claims, it will be necessary to trace briefly their genealogy. On the death of the Maiden of Norway, Alex- ander's grandchild, the crown of Scotland devolved upon the posterity of David, Earl of Huntingdon, younger brother, as already mentioned, of the kings Malcolm and William. David left three daughters, Margaret, Isabella, and Ada. Margaret, the eldest daughter, married Allan, Lord of Galloway, by whom she had an only daughter, Devorgilla, married to John Baliol, by whom she had John Baliol, the subject of this article, who therefore was great- first step which the Lady Devorgilla took, in providing for the scholars, was to have a house in Horsemonger Lane, after- wards called Canditch from Camiida Fossa in St. Mary Magdalene's parish, and on the site where the present college stands; and being supported in his design by her husband's executors, continued the provision which he allotted. In 1282 she gave them statutes under her seal, and appointed Hugh de Hartipoll and William de Menyle as procurators or governors of her scholars. ... In 1284 the Lady Devorgilla pur- chased a tenement of a citizen of Oxford, called Mary's Hall, as a perpetual settlement for the principal and scholars of the house of Baliol. This edifice, after receiving suitable repairs and additions, was called New Baliol Hall, and their former residence then began to receive the name of Old Baliol Hall. The same year she made over certain lands in the county of Northumberland, the greater part of which was afterwards lost. The foundation, however, was about this time confirmed by Oliver, Bishop of Lincoln, and by the son of the founder, who was afterwards King of Scotland, and whose consent in this matter seems to entitle him to the veneration of the society. . . . The revenues of the college were at first small, yield- ing only eightpence per week to each scholar, or twenty-seven pounds nine shillings and fourpence for the whole per annum, which was soon found insufficient. A number of benefactors, however, promoted the purposes of the founder, by enriching the establishment with gifts of land, money, and church- livings." Mr. Chalmers also mentions, that in 1340 a new set of statutes for the college received, amongst other confirmatory seals, that of " Edward Baliol, King of Scotland," namely, the grandson of the founder. The seal attached by Devorgilla to the original statutes contains a portrait of her. She died in 1280. JOHN BALIOL. 73 grandson to David, Earl of Huntingdon, by his eldest daughter. Isabella, the second daughter of David, married Robert Bruce, by whom she had Robert Bruce, the competitor — who therefore was grandson to the Karl of Huntingdon by his second daughter. Ada, youngest daughter of David, mar- ried John Hastings, by whom she had John Hastings — who therefore was grandson to David by his third daughter. Hastings could have no claim to the crown while the posterity of David's elder daughters were in being; but he insisted that the kingdom should be divided into three parts, and that he should inherit one of them. As, however, the king- dom was declared indivisible, his pretensions were excluded, and the difficulty of the question lay be- tween the two great competitors, Baliol and Bruce, — whether the more remote by one degree, descended from the eldest daughter, or the nearer by one degree, descended from the second daughter, had the better title. The divided state of the national mind as to the succession presented a favourable opportunity to the ambitious monarch of England for executing a design which he had long cherished against the independ- ence of Scotland, by renewing the unfounded claim of the feudal superiority of England over it. It has been generally supposed that he was chosen arbitrator by the regents and states of Scotland in the compe- tition for the crown; but it appears that his interfer- ence was solicited by a few only of the Scottish nobles who were in his own interest. Assuming this, however, as the call of the nation, and collecting an army to support his iniquitous pretensions, he re- quested the nobility and clergy of Scotland, and the competitors for the crown, to meet him at Norham within the English territories. There, after many professions of good-will and affection to Scotland, he claimed a right of lord paramount over it, and re- quired that this right should be immediately recog- nized. The Scots were struck with amazement at this unexpected demand; but, feeling themselves en- tirely in his power, could only request time for the consideration of his claim. Another meeting was fixed upon; and during the interval he employed every method to strengthen his party in Scotland, and by threats and promises to bring as many as possible to acknowledge his superiority. His pur- pose was greatly forwarded by the mutual distrusts and jealousies that existed among the Scots, and by the time-serving ambition of the competitors, who were now multiplied to the number of thirteen — some probably stirred up to perplex the question, and others perhaps prompted by vanity. On the day appointed (2d June, 1291) in a plain opposite to the castle of Norham, the superiority of the crown of England overthe crown of Scotland was fully acknow- ledged by all the competitors for the latter, as well as by many barons and prelates; and thus Edward gained the object on which his heart had been long set, by conduct disgraceful to himself as it was to th >se who had the government and guardianship of Scotland in keeping. All the royal castles and places of strength in the country were put into his hands, under the security that he should make full restitution in two months from the date of his award, and with the ostensible reason that he might have a kingdom to bestow on the person to whom it should be adjudged. Having thus obtained his wish, he proceeded to take some steps towards determining the claim of the competitors. Commissioners were appointed to meet at Berwick; and after various de- liberations, the crown was finally adjudged to John Baliol, on the 19th of November, 1202. and next day Baliol swore fealty to Edward at Norham. Baliol was crowned at Scone shortly after; but, that he might not forget his dependency, Edward re- called him into England immediately after his coro- nation, and made him renew his homage and fealty at Newcastle. He was soon loaded with fresh in- dignities. In the course of a year he received no fewer than six citations to appear before Edward in the English parliament, to answer private and unim- portant complaints which were preferred against him by his subjects. Although led by an insidious policy, and his own ambition, into the most humiliating con- cessions, Baliol seems not to have been destitute of spirit, or to have received without resentment the in- dignities laid upon him. In one of the causes before the parliament of England, being asked for his de- fence — "I am king of Scotland," he said, "I dare not make answer here without the advice of my people." "What means this refusal?" said Edward, "you are my liegeman; you have done homage to me; you are here in consequence of my summons!" Baliol replied with firmness, "In matters which re- spect my kingdom I neither dare nor shall answer in this place, without the advice of my people." Ed- ward requested that he would ask a delay for the consideration of the question; but Baliol, perceiving that his so doing would be construed into an acknow- ledgment of the jurisdiction of the English parlia- ment, refused. In the meantime, a war breaking out between France and England, Baliol seized upon it as a favour- able opportunity for shaking off a yoke that had become intolerable. He negotiated a treaty with Philip, the French king, on the 23d October, 1295, by which it was agreed to assist one another against their common enemy, the King of England, and not to conclude any separate peace. At the same time Baliol solemnly renounced his allegiance to Edward, and received from the pope an absolution from the oaths of fealty which he had sworn. The grounds of his renunciation were these — That Edward had wantonly, and upon slight suggestions, summoned him to his courts; — that he had seized his English estates, his goods, and the goods of his subjects; — that he had forcibly carried off, and still retained, cer- tain natives of Scotland; — and that, when remon- strances were made, instead of redressing, he had continually aggravated these injuries. Edward is said to have received Baliol's renunciation with more contempt than anger. "The foolish traitor,' 7 he ex- claimed, "since he will not come to us, we will go to him." He accordingly raised a large army; and. sending his brother into France, resolved himself, in person, to make a total conquest of Scotland. While Edward advanced towards Berwick, a small army of Scots broke into Northumberland and Cum- berland, and plundered the country. The ca-tle oi Werk was taken; and IOOO men, whom Edward sent to preserve it, falling into an ambush, were slain. An English squadron, also, which blocked up Berwick by sea, was defeated, and sixteen oi their ships sunk. But these partial successes were :< I- lowed by fatal losses. The King of England wa- a brave and skilful general; he conducted a ] owcr- ful army against a weak and dispirited nation, : by an unpopular prince, and distracted by party ani- mosities. His eventual success was there! re as complete as might have been He crossed the Tweed at Coldstream, ti ',. ! put all the garrison and inhabitants to t The castle of Roxburgh was delivered in! :. - and he hastened Warenne, Karl f Surrey, to besiege Dunbar. Warenne was there met 1 y the Scots armv, who, abandoning the ah r.i -ituatii n, p aired down tumultu >u>:y ■ n the English, 74 JOHN BALIOL. and were repulsed with terrible slaughter. After this defeat, the castles of Dunbar, Edinburgh, and Stirling fell into Edward's hands, and he was soon in possession of the whole of the south of Scotland. Baliol, who had retired beyond the river Tay with the shattered remains of his army, despairing of mak- ing any effectual resistance, sent messengers to im- plore the mercy of Edward. The haughty Planta- genet communicated the hard terms upon which alone he might hope for what he asked; namely, an unqualified acknowledgment of his "unjust and wicked rebellion," and an unconditional surrender of himself and his kingdom into the hands of his master. Baliol, whose life presents a strange variety of mag- nanimous efforts and humiliating self-abasements, consented to these conditions; and the ceremony of his degradation accordingly took place, July 2, 1296, in the churchyard of Stracathro, a village near Mon- trose. Led by force and in fear of his life into the presence of the Bishop of Durham and the English nobles, mounted on a sorry horse, he was first com- manded to dismount; and his treason being pro- claimed, they proceeded to strip him of his royal ornaments. The crown was snatched from his head, the ermine torn from his mantle, the sceptre wrested from his hand, and everything removed from him belonging to the state and dignity of a king. Dressed only in his shirt and drawers, and holding a white rod in his hand, after the fashion of penitents, he confessed that, by evil and false counsel, and through his own simplicity, he had grievously offended his liege lord, recapitulated all the late transactions, and acknowledged himself to be deservedly deprived of his kingdom. He then absolved his people from their allegiance, and signed a deed resigning his sove- reignty over them into the hands of King Edward, giving his eldest son as a hostage for his fidelity. The acknowledgment of an English paramountcy has at all times been so disagreeable to the Scottish people, and the circumstances of this renunciation of the kingdom are so extremely humiliating to national pride, that John Baliol lias been ever since held in hatred and contempt, and is scarcely allowed a place in the ordinary rolls of the Scottish monarchs. It must be said, however, in his defence, that his first acknowledgment of the paramountcy was no more than what his rival Bruce and the greater part of the nobles of the kingdom were also guilty of; while he is certainly entitled to some credit for his efforts to shake off the yoke, however inadequate his means were for doing so, or whatever ill fortune he experi- enced in the attempt. In his deposition, notwith- standing some equivocal circumstances in his subse- quent history, he must be looked upon as only the victim of an overwhelming force. The history of John Baliol after his deposition is not in general treated with much minuteness by the Scottish historians, all of whom seem to have wished to clo^e their eyes as much as possible to the whole affair of the resignation, and endeavoured to forget that the principal personage concerned in it had ever b^en King of Scotland. This history, however, is curious. The discrowned monarch and his son were immediately transmitted, along with the stone of Scone, the records of the kingdom, and all other me- morials of the national independence, to London, where the two unfortunate princes were committed to a kind of honourable captivity in the Tower. Though the country was reduced by the English army, several insurrections which broke out in the subsequent year showed that the hearts of tin; people were as yet unsubdued. These insurgents invariably rose in the name of the deposed king John, and avowed a resolution to submit to no other authority. It is also worth remarking, as a circumstance favour- able to the claims and character of Baliol, that he was still acknowledged by the pope, the King of Erance, and other continental princes. When Wal- lace rose to unite all the discontented spirits of the kingdom in one grand effort against the English yoke, he avowed himself as only the governor of the kingdom in name of King John; and there is a charter still extant, to which the hero appended the seal of Baliol, which seems, by some chance, to have fallen into his hands. The illustrious knight of Elderslie, throughout the whole of his career, acknowledged no other sovereign than Baliol; and, what is perhaps more remarkable, the father of Robert Bruce, who had formerly asserted a superior title to the crown, and whose son afterwards displaced the Baliol dynasty, appeared in arms against Edward in favour of King John, and in his name concluded several truces with the English officers. There is extant a deed executed on the 13th of November, 1299, by William, Bishop of St. Andrews, Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick, and John Comyn the younger, styling themselves guardians of the kingdom of Scot- land; in which they petition King Edward for a ces- sation of hostilities, in order, as they afterwards ex- pressed themselves, that they might live as peaceable subjects under their sovereign King John. There is, however, no reason to suppose that these proceedings were in accordance with any secret in- structions from Baliol, who, if not glad to get quit of his uneasy sovereignty at the time he resigned it, at. least seems to have afterwards entertained no wish for its recovery. A considerable time before his in- surgent representatives made the above declaration in his behalf, he is found executing a deed of the fol- lowing tenor: "In the name of God, amen. In the year 1298, on the 1st of April, in the house of the reverend father, Anthony, Bishop of Durham, with- out London. The said bishop discoursing of the state and condition of the kingdom of Scotland, and of the inhabitants of the said kingdom, before the noble Lord John Baliol; the said John, of his own proper motion, in the presence of us, the notary, and the subscribing witnesses, amongst other things, said and delivered in the French tongue to this effect, that is to say, that while he, the said realm of Scot- land, as king and lord thereof, held and governed, he had found in the people of the said kingdom so much malice, fraud, treason, and deceit, that, for their malignity, wickedness, treachery, and other detestable facts, and for that, as he had thoroughly understood, they had, while their prince, contrived to poison him, it was his intention never to go or enter into the said kingdom of Scotland for the future, or with the said kingdom or its concerns, either by himself or others, to intermeddle, nor, for the reasons aforesaid, and many others, to have anything to do with the Scots. At the same time, the said John desired the said Bishop of Durham, that he would acquaint the most magnificent prince, and his lord, Edward, the most illustrious King of England, with his intention, will, and firm resolution in this respect. This act was signed and sealed by the public notary, in the presence of the Bishop of Durham aforesaid, and of Ralph de Sandwich, constable of the Tower of London, and others who heard this discourse." 1 We regret for the honour of Scotland, that, except- ing the ilatc of this shameful libel, there is no other reason for supposing it to be dictated in an insincere spirit. Baliol now appears to have really enter- tained no higher wish than to regain his personal liberty, and be permitted to spend the rest of his 1 Pryjinc's Collections, ill. 665. JOHN BALLENTYNE. 75 days in retirement. Accordingly, having at last con- vinced King Edward of his sincerity, he and his son were delivered, on the 20th of July, 1299, to the pope's legate, the Bishop of Vicenza, by whom they were transported to France. The unfortunate Baliol lived there upon his ample estates till the year 1314, when he died at his seat of Castle Galliard, aged about fifty-five years. Though thus by no means advanced in life, he is said to have been afflicted with many of the infirmities of old age, among which was an entire deprivation of sight. BALLENTYNE (or Bellenden), John,— otherwise spelled Ballanden and Ballentyn — an emi- nent poet of the reign of James V., and the translator of Boece's Latin History, and of the first five books of Livy, into the vernacular language of his time, was a native of Lothian, and appears to have been born towards the close of the 15th century. He studied at the university of St. Andrews, where his name is thus entered in the records: "1508, Jo. Balletyn nat. Lau [don/te]." It is probable that he remained there for several years, which was necessary before he could be laureated. His education was afterwards completed at the university of Paris, where he took the degree of Doctor of Divinity; and, as has been remarked by his biographer [IVorks 0/ Bellenden, i. xxxvii.], "the effects of his residence upon the Continent may be traced both in his idiom and lan- guage." He returned to Scotland during the minority of James V., and became attached to the establishment of that monarch as "clerk of his comptis." The biographer of Ballentyne, above quoted, sup- poses that he must have been the "Maister Johnne Ballentyne" who, in 1528, was "secretar and servi- tour" to Archibald, Earl of Angus, and in that capa- city appeared before parliament to state his master's reasons for not answering the summons of treason which had been issued against him. We can scarcely, however, reconcile the circumstance of his being then a "Douglas's man," with the favour he is found to have enjoyed a few years after with James V., whose antipathy to that family was so great as pro- bably to extend to all its connections. However this may be, Ballentyne is thus celebrated, in 1530, as a court poet, by Sir David Lyndsay, who had been in youth his fellow-student at St. Andrews, and was afterwards his fellow-servant in the household of the king: — But now oflate has start up heastily A cunning clerk that writeth craftily; A plant of poets, called Ballanten, Whose ornat writs my wit cannot defync; • '■-•t he into the court authority, lie will precel Quintin and Kenedy." In 1530 and 1531 Ballentyne was employed, by command of the king, in translating Boece's History, which had been published at Paris in 1526. The object of this translation was to introduce the king and others who had "missed their Latin" to a knowledge of the history of their country. In the epistle to the king at the conclusion of this work, Ballentyne passes a deserved compliment upon his majesty, for having "dantit this region and brocht the same to sicken rest, gud peace and tranquillity; howbeit the same could nocht be done be vour t, r ret baronis during your tender age;" and also savs, with- out much flattery, "Your nobill and worthy deidis proceeds mair be naturall inclination and active enrage, than ony gudly persuasioun of assisted*. " He also attests his own sincerity by a lecture to the king on the difference between tyrannical and just government; which, as a curi ius specimen of the prose composition of that time, and also a testimony to the enlightened and upright character of Ballen- tyne, we shall extract into these pages: — "As Seneca says, in his tragedeis, all ar nocht kingis that bene clothit with purpure and dredoure, but only they that sekis na singulare proffet, in dam- mage of the commonweill; and sa vigilant that the life of their subdetis is mair deir and precii them than thair awin life. Ane tyrane sekis riches ane king sekis honour, conquest be virtew. Ane tyrane governis his realmis be slauchter, dredoure, and falset; ane king gidis his realme be prudence, integrite, and favour. Ane tyrane suspeckis all them that lies riches, gret dominioun, auctorite, or gret rentis; ane king haldis sic men for his maist helply friendis. Ane tyrane luftis nane bot vane fleschouris, vicious and wicket lymmaris, be quhais counsall he rages in slauchter and tyranny; ane king luffis men of wisdom, gravite, and science; knawing weill that his gret materis maybe weill dressit be thair prudence. Treuth is that kingis and tyrannis lies mony handis, mony ene, and mony mo memberis. Ane tyrane sets him to be dred; ane king to be luffet. Ane tyrane rejoises to mak his pepill pure; ane king to mak thame riche. Ane tyrane draws his pepill to sindry factiones, discord, and hatrent; ane king maks peace, tranquillite, and concord; knawing nothing -a dammagious as division amang his subdittis. Ane tyrane confounds all divine and hummane lawis; ane king observis thaime, and rejoises in equite and justice. All thir properteis sal be patent, in reding the livis of gud and evil kingis, in the history pre- cedent." To have spoken in this way to an absolute prince shows Ballentyne to have been not altogether a courtier. He afterwards adds, in a finely impassioned strain: — " Quhat thing maybe mair plesand than to se in this present volume, as in ane cleir mirroure, all the variance of tyme bygane; the sindry chancis of fourtoun; the bludy fechting and terrible bergani- sa mony years continuit, in the defence of your realm and liberte; quhilk is fallen to your hieness with gret felicite, howbeit the samin has aftimes been ransomit with maist nobill blude of your antecessoris. Quhat is he that wil nocht rejoise to heir the knychtly afaris of thay forcy campions, King Robert Bruce and William Wallace? The first, be innative desyre to recover his realme, wes brocht to sic calamite, that mony dayis he durst nocht appeir in sicht of pepill; but amang desertis, levand on rutes and herbis, in esperance of better fortoun; bot at last, be his singulare manheid, he come to sic pre- eminent giore, that now he is reput the maist val- yeant prince that was eftir or before his empire. This other, of small beginning, be feris curage and corporall strength, not only put Englishmen out ot Scotland, but als, be feir of his awful visage, i ut Edward king of England to flicht; and held all the borders fornence Scotland waist." Ballentyne delivered a manuscript copy work to the king, in the summer o! 1 533- the snme time he appears to have been ei ... . translation of Livy. The following entries treasurer's book r hi- trar.-latir.g > 1 le s." 1 .V . ROBERT BALMER. " J 533> J u 'y 2 &- To Maister John Ballentyne, for ane new Chronikle gevin to the kingis grace, ;£i2. "Item, To him in part payment of the translation of Titus Livius, _£8. " Aug. 24. To Maister John Ballentyne, in part payment of the second buke of Titus Livius, " Nov. 30. To Maister John Ballentyne, be the kingis precept, for his laboris dune in translat- ing of Livie, ^20." The literary labours of Ballentyne were still fur- ther rewarded by his royal master, with an appoint- ment to the archdeanery of Moray, and the escheated property and rents of two individuals, who became subject to the pains of treason for having used in- fluence with the pope to obtain the same benefice, against the king's privilege. He subsequently got a vacant prebendaryship in the cathedral of Ross. His translation of Boece was printed in 1536, by Thomas Davidson, and had become in later times almost unique, till a new edition was published in a remarkably elegant style, in 1 821, by Messrs. Tait, Edinburgh. At the same time appeared the trans- lation of the first two books of Livy, which had never before been printed. The latter work seems to have been carried no further by the translator. Ballentyne seems to have lived happily in the sun- shine of court favour during the remainder of the reign of James V. The opposition which he after- wards presented to the Reformation brought him into such odium, that he retired from his country in disgust, and died at Rome, about the year 1550. The translations of Ballentynj are characterized by a striking felicity of language, and also by a freedom that shows his profound acquaintance with the learned language upon which he wrought. His Chronicle, which closes with the reign of James I., is rather a paraphrase than a literal translation of Boece, and possesses in several respects the character of an original work. Many of the historical errors of the latter are corrected — not a few of his redundancies retrenched — and his more glaring omissions supplied. Several passages in the work are highly elegant, and some descriptions of particular incidents reach to something nearly akin to the sublime. Many of the works of Ballentyne are lost — among others a tract on the Pythagoric letter, and a discourse upon virtue and pleasure. He also wrote many political pieces, the most of which are lost. Those which have reached us are principally proems prefixed to his prose works — a species of composition not apt to bring out the better qualities of a poet; yet they ex- hibit the workings of a rich and luxuriant fancy, and abound in lively sallies of the imagination. They are generally allegorical, and distinguished rather by incidental beauties than by the skilful structure of the fable. The story, indeed, is often dull, the allu- sions obscure, and the general scope of the piece un- intelligible. These faults, however, are pretty general characteristics of allegorical poets, and they are atoned for, in him, by the striking thoughts and the charming descriptions in which he abounds, and which, "like threds of gold, the rich arras, beautify his works quite thorow." BALMER, Rev. Robert, D.D.— This profound theologian and valued ornament of the Secession Church, was born at Ormiston Mains, in the parish of Eckford, Roxburghshire, on the 22d of November, 17S7. His father, who was a land-steward, was a man in comfortable though not affluent circumstances, and Robert's earliest education — besides the ordi- nary advantages which the peasantry of Scotland possessed — enjoyed the inestimable benefit of a care- ful religious superintendence, both of his parents being distinguished for piety and intelligence. The result of such training was quickly conspicuous in the boy, who, as soon as he could read, was an earnest and constant reader of the Bible, while his questions and remarks showed that he studied its meaning beyond most persons of his age. His thirst for general knowledge was also evinced by a practice sometimes manifested by promising intellectual boy- hood — this was the arresting of every stray leaf that fell in his way, and making himself master of its contents, instead of throwing it carelessly to the winds. On the death of his father, Robert, who, although only ten years old, was the eldest of the family, on the evening of the day of the funeral, quietly placed the books for family worship before his widowed mother, as he had wont to do before his departed parent when he was alive. .She burst into tears at this touching remembrance of her be- reavement, but was comforted by the considerate boy, who reminded her that God, who had taken away his father, would still be a Father to them, and would hear them — "and, mother," he added, "we must not go to bed to-night without worshipping him." Consolation so administered could not be otherwise than effectual: the psalm was sung, the chapter read, and the prayer offered up by the sorrowing widow in the midst of her orphans; and the practice was continued daily for years, until Robert was old enough to assume his proper place as his father's representative. The studious temperament of Robert Balmer, which was manifested at an early period, appears to have been not a little influenced by his delicate health, that not only prevented him from joining in the more active sports of his young compeers, but promoted that thoughtfulness and sensibility by which sickly boyhood is frequently characterized. The same circumstance also pointed out to him his proper vocation; and he said, on discovering his inability even for the light work of the garden, "Mother, if I do not gain my bread by my head, I'll never do it with my hands." As to which of the learned professions he should select, the choice may be said to have been already made in consequence of his domestic training: he would be a minister of the gospel, and that too in the Secession Church to which his parents belonged. lie proceeded to the study of Latin, first at the parish school of More- battle, and afterwards that of Kelso, at the latter of which seminaries he formed a close acquaintanceship with his schoolfellow, Thomas Pringle, afterwards known as the author of African Sketches, which was continued till death. In 1802 Mr. Balmer entered the university of Edinburgh, and, after passing through the usual course of classical, ethical, and scientific study, was enrolled as a student in theology in connection with the Associate Synod. Even already he had established for himself such a respectable intellectual reputation, that his young brethren in preparation for the ministry received him with more than or- dinary welcome. As Dr. Lawson, the theological professor of the Associate Synod, lectured only for two months of each year, at the end of summer and commencement of autumn, Mr. Balmer, in common with several of his fellow-students, attended the regular course of theology during the winters at the university of Edinburgh. They thus availed them- selves of the twofold means of improvement which they possessed, without any compromise of their principles being exacted in return; and the fruits of this were manifest in after-life, not only by the highly superior attainments of many of the Secession ministry, but the liberal spirit and kindly feeling which they ROBERT BALMER. 77 learned to cherish toward their brethren of the Established Church, and the affectionate intercourse that often continued between them to the end. This, however, alarmed some of the elder and more rigid brethren of the Synod: they thought that this liber- ality savoured of lukewarmness, and would in time prove a grievous snare; and, under the impression, ;m overture was introduced into the Synod, for the prevention of all such erratic courses in future. The students of Selkirk who studied under Dr. Lawson took the alarm at this threatened restriction, and the petition and remonstrance presented by them in vin- dication was drawn up by Mr. Balmer. Although some indignation was expressed at the students for the liberty they had thus taken in addressing the supreme court of their church, the petition was re- ceived by the Synod, and the obnoxious overture dis- missed. One of the senior and leading members observed on this occasion that he would be sorry to see any measure adopted which would tend to drive from their body the man who could write such a paper. After having finished the four years' course of divinity prescribed by the Presbyterian churches of Scotland, it was expected that Mr. Balmer should apply for license as a preacher. This was the more necessary in the communion to which he belonged, as the number of its licentiates scarcely equalled that of the vacant congregations. But, to the surprise of his friends, he held back for two years, and his delay was attributed to unworthy motives. Already one of the most promising students of the connection, it was thought that he demurred from mere pride of intellect, and was unwilling to identify himself with a cause which as yet had produced so few men of high mark: others, who were aware that he had already been ad- vised to pass over to the Established Church, and share in its honours and emoluments, imagined that he had taken the advice to heart, and only waited the fit season for such a step. But these surmises were as unkind as they were untrue. His ambition went no higher than to be the humble useful minister of some country Burgher congregation, while his hu- mility confirmed him in the belief that he would have for his brethren men of still higher attainments than his own. His delay entirely originated in scruples of conscience. He had thought anxiously and profoundly upon the subject, and could not wholly admit the formula which he would be required to subscribe as a licentiate. "On the question," he after- wards said, "demanding an assent to the Confession and Catechisms, I stated, that to me these documents appeared so extensive and multifarious as to be dis- proportioned to the narrow limits of the human mind; that I at least had not studied every expression in them so carefully as to be prepared to assent to it with the solemnity of an oath; that I approved of them, however, in so far as I had studied them; and that the Presbytery might ascertain, by strict examina- tion, the amount of my attainments, and treat me ac- cordingly—which of course they did." His scruples were respected, his explanations in assenting to the formula admitted; and on the 4th of August, 1S12. he was licenced as a preacher of the gospel by the Associate Presbytery of Edinburgh. On commencing the great work to which all his studies had been directed, Mr. Balmer began under rather inauspicious circumstances. All are aware how essential certain external advantages are in the formation of an acceptable and popular preacher, and how completely a dissenting preacher depends upon this popularity for his call to the ministry, and the successful discharge of his duties. But in the graces of person and manner Mr. Balmer was decidedly wanting. His eyes, from their weakness, had an un- pleasant cast, and his figure was ungainly; his voice was monotonous; and his gestures were, to say the least, inelegant. For a person in his position to sur- mount such obstacles argued a mind of no ordinary power. And he did surmount them. Such was the depth and originality of thought, the power of lan- guage, and heart-moving unction which his sermons possessed, that his growing acceptability bade fair in a short time to convert these defects into positive ex- cellencies in the eyes of his captivated auditories. In a few months he received calls from not less than four congregations, so that he would have been in a strait to choose, had not the laws of his church pro- vided for such doubtful emergencies. Amid such competition, the choice devolved upon the Synod, modified, however, by the personal wishes of the preacher thus called; and on Balmer expressing a preference for the congregation at Berwick, he was ordained its minister on the 23d of March, 18 14. The life of a Secession minister in a third-rate town affords few points for a limited memoir. They are also of such, a regular monotonous character, that the history of a single month is a sufficient specimen of whole years so occupied. And yet, while thus employed, Mr. Balmer was neither a dull nor inefficient workman. He threw the whole of his large intellect and warm heart into his sacred duties; and while he secured the love of his congregation, his reputation was silently growing and going on- ward, until, without seeking it, he found himself a man of high mark and influence in that important segment of the church universal to which he belonged. And all the while he was continuing to improve his faculties, and extend his intellectual resources, for his was not a mind to rest satisfied with past acquire- ments, however sufficient they might be for the present demand. Events also occurred, or were searched out and found sufficient to keep up that wholesome stir of mind without which the best of duties are apt to become a monotonous task. Among these was the exercise of his pen in a review of the work of Hall of Leicester on Terms of Communion, which was inserted in two numbers of the Christian Repository of 1817. He was also on several occa- sions a visitor to London, whither he was called on clerical duty; and in these southward journeys he enjoyed much "colloquy sublime" with Robert Hall, of whom his reminiscences are among the most in- teresting that have appeared of that great pulpit orator and theological metaphysician. He also took a keen interest in the union of the two parties of the Secession Church, known by the name of Burghers and Anti-burghers, which took place in 1S20. This was an event that was dear to his heart, for not only was he a lover of Christian concord, and the enemy of all infinitesimal distinctions that keep brethren asunder, but he had been born in that union; f r although his father and mother had belonged to the different parties, they hail always lived and acted a_s those who are completely at one. In 1S26 he married Miss Jane Scott, daughter of Mr. Alexander Scott of Aberdeen, and sister of I Scott, the well-known author of Visits to Fans. In the year following he was involved -as what min>- ter in Scotland was not more or less involved.' what is still vividly remembered under the nai the "Apocrypha controversy."' Mr. Banner en- deavoured on this occasion to rec >n< il< th . ntei !- ing parties, and was requited by the suq i.s ot the one, and the active hostility of tiie oth r. : r his pains. Such was the fate <>( not a few at tl who endeavoured to perform the part ot ] eacemakers. They are "blessed' indeed— but :. t I men, and 7* ROBERT BALMER HENRY BALXAVES. must look elsewhere than to the earth for their reward. After the Apocryphical, the Voluntary controversy predominated, in which the Seces- sion, utterly renouncing the Establishment principle, which it had hitherto recognized in theory, became thoroughly and completely a dissent, by proclaiming the inexpediency and unlawfulness of civil establish- ments of religion, and contending for a separation between church and state. On this occasion, Mr. Bahner took the part that might have been expected from his character and situation, lie was allied in friendship with many ministers of the Established Church; and, in common with many of his brethren, he was conscious of the fickleness of popular rule. All this was well so long as the question was left to every man's conscience. But when it swelled into a public controversy, and when every person was obliged to take a side, and be either the friend or the enemy of voluntaryism, Mr. Balmer acted as every Secession minister did, who still meant to abide at his post. lie thought that the voluntary system, although an evil, was the least evil of the two, and therefore he became its apologist and advocate. On the death of Dr. Dick of Glasgow, who for thirteen years had been professor of theology in the Associate, and afterwards in the United Associate Synod, it was resolved to establish three divinity professorships, instead of one. On this occasion Mr. Balmer's high talents were recognized, by his appointment, in 1834, first to the chair of pastoral theology, and afterwards to that of systematic theo- logy. Although Glasgow was the sphere of his professorship, his duties called him away from Berwick only two months in the year. The duties of such a brief session, however, were scarcely less than those of a six months' course in our well-en- dowed universities. The following is an account of them given by one of his pupils: — "It is not, I pre- sume, necessary to say more of the nature of his course than that it consisted of five parts — one pre- liminary, on the Christian evidences; one supple- mentary, on Christian morals; the other three con- sisting respectively of — topics in revelation prepara- tory to the scheme of redemption; of the work of the Redeemer; and of the blessings of redemption. Those subjects were gone over in a series of lectures, extending over the last three years of the students' course. Each session occupied eight weeks, and the number of weekly lectures, each of an hour's length, was live, so that the total number delivered in a full course was, after every abatement for interruption and irregularity, somewhere below 120. Another hour daily was somewhat irregularly divided between examinations, or rather oral lectures, and hearing of the discourses of between forty and fifty students, in the third and fifth years of their progress, to which was sometimes added an occasional voluntary essay." Of the manner in which these duties were discharged, the same pupil affectionately adds: — "Who can ever forget the hours -pent in hearing these prelections, or the singularly impressive manner of him by whom they were delivered? The simplicity of the recluse student, exalted into the heavenliness of mature saintship — the dignified composure, mixed with kindly interest — the look of unworldly purity and abstract intelligence, that more than redeemed the peculiar and unpromising features— the venerable hoary head, that no one could refuse to rise up and honour — all strongly fixed the eve; and then came the full stream of a never-to-be-forgotten voice, monotonous only in simple and unimportant sen- tences, but varied in striking cadence through all the members of an exquisitely balanced period, and now kindling into animation and emphasis in the glow of argument, now sinking into thrilling solemnity and tenderness with the falls of devout emotion; while all the while no play of look, or fervour of tone, or strange sympathetic gesture, could disturb your idea of the reigning self-possession and lofty moral dignity of the speaker. Never had lecturer a more attentive audience. The eagerness of note-taking alone broke the general silence." When these important labours were finished, Mr. Balmer returned at the end of each session to Berwick, not for the purpose of rest, however, but to resume his clerical duties with double vigour. In this way his life went on from year to year — silent indeed, and overlooked by the world in general; but who can trace or fully estimate the effects of such a life upon the generations to come? He who in such fashion rears up teachers of religion may live and die unnoticed, but never unfelt : his deeds will travel onward from generation to generation, even when his name has utterly passed away; he will still live and instruct, in his pupils, and the disciples of his pupils, though his dust may long ago have mouldered in the winds. In 1840 Mr. Balmer received from the university of St. Andrews the degree of Doctor in Divinity, which was conferred upon him by the senatus without influence or solicitation. During the latter years of his life, a controversy was agitated in the United Secession upon the extent of the atonement, which threatened at one time to rend that church asunder. In such a case, it could not be otherwise than that Dr. Balmer, however un- willingly, should express his sentiments upon the question at issue. This he did, but with such gentleness and moderation, as to soften the keenness of debate, and increase the general esteem in which he was held by all parties. After this his season arrived in which every theological doubt and diffi- culty ends in unswerving and eternal certainty. A short but severe illness, the result of mental anxiety acting upon a feeble frame — the first and last attack of serious pain and sickness he had ever felt — ended his life on the 1st of July, 1844. This event, how- ever anticipated from his years and growing infirmi- ties, not only threw his whole congregation into the deepest sorrow, each individual feeling himself be- reaved of an honoured and affectionate father, but struck with a sudden thrill the extensive Associate Secession church through its whole range in Scot- land and England. Even the funeral of Dr. Balmer was significant of his catholic liberality and high talents — of one who had lived in Christian peace and love with all, and won the admiration and esteem of all; for in the town business was suspended, the inhabitants assembled as if some prince of the land was to be honoured and bewailed in his death, and the coffin was followed to the grave by the ministers of every denomination, both of the English and Scottish Establishment and dissent, who dwelt in the town and country. A monumental obelisk was soon after erected over the grave by his affectionate congrega- tion. Two volumes of his writings have also been published since his death, the one consisting of pulpit discourses, and the other of academical lectures, in which the high estimate taken of his talents by the church to which he belonged is fully justified. BALNAVES, Henry, of Halhill, an eminent lay reformer, and also a theological writer of some emi- nence, was born of poor parents in the town of Kirkcaldy. After an academical course at St. An- drews, he travelled to the Continent, and, hearing of a free school in Cologne, procured admission to it, and received a liberal education, together with in- HENRY BALNAVES struction in Protestant principles. Returning to his native country, he applied himself to the study of law, and acted for some time as a procurator at St. Andrews. In the year 1538 he was appointed by James V. a senator of the College of Justice, a court only instituted five years before. Notwithstanding the jealousy of the clergy, who hated him on account of his religious sentiments, he was employed on im- portant embassies by James V., and subsequently by the governor Arran, during the first part of whose regency he acted as secretary of state. Having at length made an open profession of the Pro- testant religion, he was, at the instigation of Arran's brother, the Abbot of Paisley, dismissed from that situation. He now appears to have entered into the interests of the English party against the gover- nor, and accordingly, with the Earl of Rothes and Lord Gray, was thrown into Blackness Castle (No- vember, 1543), where he probably remained till re- lieved next year on the appearance of the English fleet in the Eirth of Forth. There is much reason to believe that this sincere and pious man was privy to the conspiracy formed against the life of Cardinal Beaton; an action certainly not the brightest in the page of Scottish history, but of which it is not too much to say, that it might have been less defensible if its motive had not been an irregular kind of patriotism. Balnaves, though he did not appear among the actual perpetrators of the assassination, soon after joined them in the castle of St. Andrews, which they held out against the governor. He was consequently declared a traitor, and excommunicated. His principal employment in the service of the con- spirators seems to have been that of an ambassador to the English court. In February, 1 546-7, he ob- tained from Henry VIII. a subsidy of ^1180, besides a quantity of provisions for his compatriots, and a pension of ,£125 to himself, which was to run from the 25th of March. On the 15th of this latter month he had become bound, along with his friends, to de- liver up Queen Mary, and also the castle of St. An- drews, into the hands of the English; and in May he obtained a further sum of £300. While residing in the castle, he was instrumental, along with Mr. John Rough and Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, in pre- vailing upon John Knox to preach publicly in St. Andrews — the first regular ministration in the re- formed religion in Scotland. When the defenders of the castle surrendered in August, Balnaves shared in their fate, along with Knox and many other eminent persons. He was conveyed to the castle of Rouen, in France, and there committed to close confinement. Yet he still found occasional opportunities to communicate with his friend Knox. Having employed himself during his solitary hours in composing a treatise on Justifica- tion, he conveyed it to the reformer, who was so much pleased with it, that he divided it into chapters, added some marginal notes and a concise epitome of its contents, and prefixed a commendatory dedication, intending that it should be published in Scotland as soon as opportunity offered. This work fell aside for some years, but, after Knox's death, was dis- covered in the house of ( )rmiston by Richard Banna- tyne, and was published at Edinburgh, in 15S4, under the title of The Confession of Faith, containing, hero the Troubled Man should seek Refuge at his God, thereto led by Faith, d~Y.: Compiled by M. Ilenrie Balnaves of HaUull, one of the Lords of Session and Counsel! of Scotland, being a Prisoner within the Old Pallaicc of Roane, in the Year of our Ixrd 1 =548. Direct to his faithful Brethren being in like Trouble or more, and to all True Professors and Favourers ■ f the Synecre ll'erde of God. Dr. M'Crte ha- given somj GEORGE BA N N" ATY N E. 79 extracts from this work in his life of John Knox. After his return from banishment, Balnaves took a bold and conspicuous part in the contest carried on by the lords of the congregation against the regent Mary. He was one of the commissioner, who, in February, 1559 60, settled the treaty at Berwick between the former insurgent body and the Queen of England, in consequence of which the Scottish reformation was finally established through aid from a country always heretofore the bitterest enemy of Scotland. In 1563 he was reappointed to the bench, and also nominated as one of the commissioners for revising the Book of Discipline. He acted some years later, along with Buchanan and others, as counsellors to the Earl of Murray, in the celebrated inquiry by English and Scottish commissioners into the alleged guilt of Queen Man-. He died, according to Mackenzie, in 1579. "In his Treatise upon Justification,"' says the latter authority, "he affirms that the justification spoken of by St. James is different from that spoken of by St. Paul; for the justification by good works, which St. James speaks of, only justifies us before man; but the justification by faith, which St. l'aul speaks of, justifies us before God: and that all, yea, even the best of our good works, are but sins before God." "And," adds Mackenzie, with true Jacobite sar- casm, "whatever may be in this doctrine of our author's, I think we may grant to him that the most of all his actions which he valued himself upon, and reckoned good works, were really great and heinous sins before God, for no good man will justify rebellion and murder." Without entering into the controversies involved by this proposition, either as to the death of Cardinal Beaton or the accusations against Queen Mary, we may content ourselves with quoting the opinion en- tertained of Balnaves by the good and moderate Melville: he was, according to this writer, "a godly, learned, wise, and long experimented counsellor." "A poem" by Balnaves, entitled .-/;/ Advice to Head- strong Youth, is selected from Bannatyne's manuscri] t into The Evergreen. BAJSHSTATYNE, George, takes his title to a place in this work from a source of fame partici- pated by no other individual within the range 1 f Scottish biography: it is to this person that we aie indebted for the preservation of nearly all the pro- ductions of the Scottish poets of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Though the services he has thus rendered to his country were in some measure the result of accident; yet it is also evident that, if he had not been a person of eminent literary taste. and also partly a poet himself, we should never have had to celebrate him as a collector of poetry. The compound claim which he has thus established '. > our notice, and the curious antique picture which is presented to our eye by even the little that is km >w :i regarding his character and pursuits, will, it i- hoped, amply justify his admission into this gailer\ of eminent Scotsmen. George Bannatyne was born in an elevated ra: k of society. His father, James Bannatyne, Kirktown of Newtyle, in the county of Forfar, v - a writer in Edinburgh, at a time when that pn : must have been one of some di,tinction ai and he was probably the person allu Semple in TA . f ' Grissell Saiur.i.n:.. . It also appear- that lames 1 if T.YiH :. ■.;. u the Lui i- of Se^iun. .:. _ GEORGE BANNATYNE. his eldest son (afterwards a Lord of Council and Session) was conjoined with him as successor, by royal precept, dated May 2, 1583. James Bannatyne is further ascertained to have been connected with the very ancient and respectable family of Bannach- tyne, or Bannatyne, of Camys (now Karnes), in the island of Bute. He was the father, by his wife Katharine Tailliefer, of twenty-three children, nine of whom, who survived at the time of his death, in 1583, were "weill and sufficiently provydit be him, under God." George Bannatyne, the seventh child of his parents, was born on the 22d day of February, 1545, and was bred up to trade. 1 It is, however, quite uncer- tain at what time he began to be engaged in business on his own account, or whether he spent his youth in business or not. Judging, however, as the world is apt to judge, we should suppose, from his taste for poetry, and his having been a writer of verses him- self, that he was at least no zealous applicant to any commercial pursuit. Two poems of his, written before the age of twenty-three, are full of ardent though conceited affection towards some fair mistress, whom he describes in the most extravagantly compli- mentary terms. It is also to be supposed that, at this age, even though obliged to seek some amusement during a time of necessary seclusion, he could not have found the means to collect, or the taste to execute, such a mass of poetry as that which bears his name, if he had not previously been almost entirely abandoned to this particular pursuit. At the same time there is some reason to suppose that he was not altogether an idle young man, given up to vain fancies, from the two first lines of his valedictory address at the end of his collection: "Heir endis this buik writtin in tyme of pest, Quhen wc/ra labor was compel'd to rest." Of the transaction on which the whole fame of George Bannatyne rests we give the following inter- esting account from the memoir just quoted: — "It is seldom that the toils of the amanuensis are in themselves interesting, or that, even while enjoying the advantages of the poor scribe's labour, we are dis- posed to allow him the merit of more than mere mechanical drudgery. But in the compilation of George Bannatyne's manuscript there are particulars which rivet our attention on the writer, and raise him from a humble copyist into a national benefactor. "Bannatyne's manuscript is in a folio form, containing upwards of Soo pages, very neatly and closely written, and designed, as has been sup- pose:!, to be sent to the press. The labour of com- piling so rich a collection was undertaken by the author during the time of pestilence, in the year 1568, when the dread of infection compelled men to forsake their usual employments, which could not be conducted without admitting the ordinary promis- cuous intercourse between man and his kindred men. "In this dreadful period, when hundreds, finding themselves surrounded by danger and death, re- nounced all care save that of selfish precaution for their own safety, and all thoughts save apprehensions 1 In % Memoir of George Iiannatyne, by Sir Walter Scott prefixed to a oil-- tion of memorabilia regarding him, which has been printed for the Iiannatyne Club, it is supposed that lie was not early engaged in business. But this supposition seems only to rest on an uncertain inference from a passage in George Bannatyne's Memoriall Buik, where it is mentioned that Katharine Tailliefer. at her death in 1^70. left behind her eleven children, of whom eight were as yet " unput to proffeit." On a careful inspection of the family notices in this Memoriall Buik, it appears as likely that George himself was one of those already "put to proffeit" as otherwise, more especially considering that he was then twenty-five years of age. of infection, George Bannatyne had the courageous energy to form and execute the plan of saving the literature of a whole nation; and, undisturbed by the universal mourning for the dead, and general fears of the living, to devote himself to the task of collect- ing and recording the triumphs of human genius; — - thus, amid the wreck of all that was mortal, employ- ing himself in preserving the lays by which immor- tality is at once given to others, and obtained for the writer himself. His task, he informs us, had its difficulties; for he complains that he had, even in his time, to contend with the disadvantage of copies old, maimed, and mutilated, and which long before our day must, but for this faithful transcriber, have perished entirely. The very labour of procuring the originals of the works which he transcribed must have been attended with much trouble and some risk, at a time when all the usual intercourse of life was suspended; and when we can conceive that even so simple a circumstance as the borrowing and lend- ing a book of ballads was accompanied with some doubt and apprehension, and that probably the sus- pected volume was subjected to fumigation and the precautions used in quarantine. 2 ***** " In the reign of James IV. and V. the fine arts, as they awakened in other countries, made some progress in Scotland also. Architecture and music were encouraged by both of those accomplished sovereigns; and poetry, above all, seems to have been highly valued at the Scottish court. The King of Scotland, who, in point of power, seems to have been little more than the first baron of his kingdom, held a free and merry court, in which poetry and satire seem to have had unlimited range, even where their shafts glanced on royalty itself. The consequence of this general encouragement was the production of much poetry of various kinds, and concerning various persons, which the narrow exertions of the Scottish press could not convey to the public, or which, if printed at all, existed only in limited editions, which soon sunk to the rarity of manuscripts. There was therefore an ample mine out of which Bannatyne made his compilation, with the intention, doubtless, of putting the lays of the ' makers' out of the reach of oblivion by subjecting the collection to the press. But the bloody wars of Queen Mary's time^ made that no period for literary adventure; and the ten- dency of the subsequent age to polemical discussion discouraged lighter and gayer studies. There is, therefore, little doubt, that had Bannatyne lived later than he did, or had he been a man of less taste in selecting his materials, a great proportion of the poetry contained in his volume must have been lost to posterity; and, if the stock of northern literature had been diminished only by the loss of such of Dun- bar's pieces as Bannatyne's manuscript contains, the damage to posterity would have been infinite." The pestilence which caused Bannatyne to go into retirement commenced at Edinburgh upon the 8th of September, 1568, being introduced by a merchant 3 With deference to Sir Walter, we would suggest that the suspicion under which books are always held at a time of pes- tilence as a means of conveying the infection, gives great reason to suppose that George Iiannatyne had previously col- lected his original manuscripts, and only took this opportunity of transcribing them, 'the writing of 800 folio pages in the careful and intricate style of caligraphy then practised, appears a sufficient task in itself for three months, without supposing that any part of the time was spent in collecting manuscripts. And hence we see the greater reason for supposing that a large part of the attention of George Iiannatyne before his twenty- third year wa5 devoted to Scottish poetry. :i The accomplished writer should rather have said, the minority of James VI., whose reign had commenced before the manuscript was written. GEORGE BANNATYNE JOHN' BARBOUR. Si of the name of Dalgleish. We have, however, no evidence to prove that Bannatyne resided at this time in the capital. We know, from his own informa- tion, that he wrote his manuscript during the subse- quent months of October, November, and December; which might almost seem to imply that he had lived in some other town, to which the pestilence only ex- tended at the end of the month in which it appeared in Edinburgh. Leaving this in uncertainty, it is not perhaps too much to suppose that he might have adopted this means of spending his time of seclu- sion from the fictitious example held out by Boccacio, who represents the tales of his Decameron as having been told for mutual amusement by a company of persons who had retired to the country to escape the plague. A person so eminently acquainted with the poetry of his own country might well be familiar with the kindred work of that illustrious Italian. The few remaining facts of George Bannatyne's life, which have been gathered up by the industry of Sir Walter Scott, may be briefly related. In 1572 he was provided with a tenement in the town of Leith, by a gift from his father. This would seem to imply that he was henceforward, at least, engaged in business, and resided either in Edinburgh or at its neighbouring port. It was not, however, till the 27th of October, 1587, that, being then in his forty- third year, he was admitted in due and competent form to the privileges of a merchant and guild-brother of the city of Edinburgh. "We have no means of knowing what branch of traffic George Bannatyne chiefly exercised; it is probable that, as usual in a Scottish burgh, his commerce was general and miscellaneous. We have reason to know that it was successful, as we find him in a few years possessed of a considerable capital, the time being considered, which he employed to advantage in various money- lending transactions. It must not be forgot that the penal laws of the Catholic period pronounced all direct taking of interest upon money to be usurious and illegal. These denunciations did not decrease the desire of the wealthy to derive some profit from their capital, or diminish the necessity of the embar- rassed land-holder who wished to borrow money. The mutual interest of the parties suggested various evasions of the law, of which the most common was, that the capitalist advanced to his debtor the sum wanted, as the price of a corresponding annuity, payable out of the lands and tenements of the debtor, which annuity was rendered redeemable upon the said debtor repaying the sum advanced. The moneyed man of those days, therefore, imitated the conduct imputed to the Jewish patriarch by Shylock. They did not take interest — not as you would say Directly interest, but they retained payment of an annuity as long as the debtor retained the use of their capital, which came to much the same thing. A species of trans- action was contrived, as affording a convenient mode of securing the lender's money. Our researches have discovered that George Banna'tyne had sufficient funds to enter into various transactions of this kind in the capacity of lender; and, as we have no reason to suppose that he profited unfairly by the necessities of the other party, he cannot be' blamed for having recourse to the ordinary expedients to avoid the penalty of an absurd law, and accomplish a fair trans- action, dictated by mutual expediency." Bannatyne, about the same time that he became a burgess of Edinburgh, appears to have married his spouse, tsobel Mawchan [apparently identical with the modern name Maug/ia/i], who was the relict of VOL. I. Bailie William Nisbett, and mu-,t have been about forty years of age at the time of her second nuptials, supposing 1586 to be the date of that event, which is only probable from the succeeding year having produced her first child by Bannatyne. ' This child was a daughter, by name Janet or Jonet; she was born on the 3d of May, 1587. A son, James, born on the 6th of September, 1589, and who died young, completes the sum of Bannatyne's family. The father of Bannatyne died in the year 1 583, and was suc- ceeded in his estate of Newtyle by his eldest living son, Thomas, who became one of the Lords of Ses- sion by that designation— an appointment which forms an additional voucher for the general respecta- bility of the family. George Bannatyne was, on the 27th of August, 1603, deprived of his affectionate helpmate, Isobel Mawchan, at the age of fifty-seven. She had lived, according to her husband's Memoriall, "a godly, honourable, and virtuous life; was a wise, honest, and true matron, and departed in the Lord in a peaceful and godly manner." George Bannatyne himself deceased previous to the year 1608, leaving only one child, Janet, who had, in 1603, been married to George Loulis of Woodhall and Ravelstone, second son of James Eoulis of Colingtoun. His valuable collection of Scottish poetry was preserved in his daughter's family till 1712, when his great-grandson, William Eoulis of Woodhall, bestowed it upon the Honour- able William Carmichael of Skirling, advocate, brother to the Earl of Ilyndford, a gentleman who appears to have had an eminent taste for such monu- ments of antiquity. While in the possession of Mr. Carmichael it was borrowed by Allan Ramsay, who selected from its pages the materials of his popular collection styled The Evergreen. Lord Hailes, in I 77°> published a second and more correct selection from the Bannatyne manuscript; and the venerable tome was, in 1772, by the liberality of John, third Karl of Hyndford, deposited in the Advocates' Library at Edinburgh, where it still remains. We have already alluded to George Bannatyne as a poet: but, to tell the truth, his verses display little, in thought or imagery, that could be expected to interest the present generation; neither was he per- haps a versifier of great repute, even in his own time. It only remains to be mentioned that the name of George Bannatyne has been appropriately adopted by a company of Scottish literary antiquaries, inter- ested, like him, in the preservation of such curious memorials of the taste of past ages, as well as such monuments of history as might otherwise run the hazard of total perdition. BARBOUR. John, a name of which Scotland has just occasion to be proud, was Archdeacon of deen in the later part of the fourteenth century. There has been much idle controversy as to the date of his birth; while all that is known with historic certainty may be related in a single sentence. As lie was an archdeacon in 1357. and as, by the canon law, no man without a dispensation can attain that rai ': under the age of twenty-live, he was prol before the year 1332. As to his parentage or birthplace we have only similar conjectures. Besides the probability ol 1 1 having been a native of the district in wi. wards obtained high clerical rank, il ■ n that there were individuals of his name :: the town of Aberdeen, any one of whom n igl t I ave iK'en his father. The name, which a] ; .:- ' been one of that numerous cl.i is also found in persons of the sai were connected with the southern \ arta oi So tlan :. 82 JOHN BARBOUR. In attempting the biography of an individual who lived four or five centuries ago, and whose life was commemorated by no contemporary, all that can be expected is a few unconnected, and perhaps not very interesting, facts. It is already established that Bar- bour, in 1357, was archdeacon of the cathedral of Aberdeen, and fulfilled a high trust imposed upon him by his bishop. It is equally ascertained that, in the same year, he travelled, with three scholars in his company, to Oxford, for purposes connected with study. A safe-conduct granted to him by Edward III., August 23d, at the request of David II., con- veys this information in the following terms: " Veiii- endo, cum tribus scholaribtis in comitiva sua, in reg- num nostrum Angliee, causa studendi in universitate Oxoniic ft ibidem actus scholasticos exercendo, morando, exinde in Scoliam ad propria redeundo."" It might have been supposed that Barbour only officiated in this expedition as tutor to the three scholars; but that he was himself bent on study at the university is proved by a second safe-conduct, granted by the same monarch, November 6th, 1364, in the following terms: "To Master John Barbour, Archdeacon of Aberdeen, with four knights (ct/uitcs), coming from Scotland, by land or sea, into England, to study at Oxford, or elsewhere, as he may think proper." As also from a third, bearing date November 30th, 1368: "To Master John Barbour, with two valets and two horses, to come into England and travel through the same, to the other dominions of the king, versus Franciam, causa studiendi, and of returning again." It would thus appear that Barbour, even after that he had attained a high ecclesiastical dignity, found it agreeable or necessary to spend several winters at Oxford in study. When we recollect that at this time there was no university in Scotland, and that a man of such literary habits as Barbour could not fail to find himself at a loss even for the use of a library in his native country, we are not to wonder at his occasional pilgrimages to the illustrious shrine of learning on the banks of the Isis. On the 16th of October, 1635, he received another safe-conduct from Edward III., permitting him "to come into England and travel throughout that kingdom, cum sex sociis suis cquitibus, usque Sanctum Dionisium;" i.e. with six knights in company, to St. Dennis in France. Such slight notices suggest curious and interesting views of the manners of that early time. We are to understand from them that Barbour always travelled in a very dignified manner, being sometimes attended by four knights and sometimes by no fewer than six, or at least by two mounted servants. A man accustomed to such state might be the better able to compose a chivalrous epic like The Bruce. There is no other authentic document regarding Barbour till the year 1373, when his name appears in the list of auditors of exchequer for that year, being then described as "c/eriats probationis domus domini nostri regis;" i.e. apparently — auditor of the comptroller's accounts for the royal household. This, however, is too obscure and solitary an au- thority to enable us to conclude that he bore an office under the king. Hume of Godscroft, speaking of "the Bruce's book," says: "As I am informed, the book was penned by a man of good knowledge and learning, named Master John Harbour, Archdeacon of Aberdeene, for which work lie had a yearly pen- sion out of the exchequer during his life, which he gave to the hospitall of that towne, and to which it is allowed and paid still in our dayes." 1 This fact, that a pension was given him for writing his book, is authenticated by an unquestionable document. In 1 History pftlic D >u£lai the Rotuli Ballivorum Burgi de Aberdonia for 1471, the entry of the discharge for this royal donation bears that it was expressly given "for the compila- tion of the Book of the Deeds of King Robert the First" referring to a prior statement of this circum- stance in the more ancient rolls: — "Et decano et capitulo Abirdonensi percipienti annuatim viginti solidos pro anniversario quondam Magistri Johannis Barberi, pro compilatione libri gestorum Regis Roberti primi, ut patet in antiquis Rotulis de anno Compoti, xx. s." The first notice we have of Barbour receiving a pension is dated February 18th, 1390; and although this period was only about two months before the death of Robert the Second, it appears from the rolls that to that monarch the poet was indebted for the favour. In the roll for April 26th, 1398, this language occurs: — "Quam recolendie memorie quondam dominus Robertus secundus, rex Scottorum, dedit, concessit, et carta sua confirmavit quondam Johanni Barbere archediacono Aber- clonensi," &c. In the roll dated June 2d, 1424, the words are these: — "Decano et capitulo ecclesia' cathedralis Aberdonensis percipientibus annuatim viginti solidos de firmis dicti burgi pro anniversario quondam Magistri Johannis Barbar pro compilacione libri de gestis Regis Roberti Brwise, ex concessione Regis Roberti Secundi, in plenam solucionem dicte pensionis," &c. Barbour's pension consisted of ^10 Scots from the customs of Aberdeen, and of 20 shil- lings from the rents or burrow-mails of the same city. The first sum was limited to "the life of Barbour;" the other to "his assignees whomsoever, although he should have assigned it in the way of mortification." Hume of Godscroft and others are in a mistake in supposing that he appropriated this sum to an hospital, for it appears from the accounts of the great chamberlain that he left it to the chapter of the cathedral church of Aberdeen, for the express purpose of having mass said for his soul annually after his decease. Barbour's anniversary, it is sup- posed, continued till the Reformation; and then the sum allowed for it reverted to the crown. All that is further known of Barbour is, that he died towards the close of 1395. This appears from the chartulary of Aberdeen, and it is the last year in which the payment of his pension of £\o stands on the record. The Bruce, which Barbour himself informs us he wrote in the year 1375, is a metrical history of Robert I. — his exertions and achievements for the recovery of the independence of Scotland, and the principal transactions of his reign. As Barbour. flourished in the age immediately following that of his hero, lie must have enjoyed the advantage of hearing from eye-witnesses narratives of the war of liberty. Asa history, his work is of good authority; he himself boasts of its soothfast ness ; and the simple and straightforward way in which the story is told goes to indicate its general veracity. Although, however, the object of the author was mainly to give a soothfast history of the life and transactions of Robert the Bruce, the work is far from being desti- tute of poetical feeling or rhythmical sweetness and harmony. The lofty sentiments and vivid descrip- tions with which it abounds, prove the author to have been fitted by feeling and by principle, as well as by situation, forthe taskwhichhe undertook. 1 lis genius has lent truth all the charms that are usually supposed to belong to fiction. The horrors of war are softened by strokes of tenderness that make us equally in love with the hero and the poet. In battle-painting Barbour is eminent: the battle of Bannockburn is described with a minuteness, spirit, and fervency, worthy of the day. JOHN BARBOUR ALEXANDER BARCLAY. The apostrophe to freedom, after the painful de- scription of the slavery to which Scotland was re- duced by Edward, is in a style of poetical feeling very uncommon in that and many subsequent ages, and has been quoted with high praise by the most distinguished Scottish historians and critics: — "A! fredome is a nobill thing! Fredome mayse man to haiff liking ! Fredomc all solace to man giffis: He levys at cse that frely levys ! A noble hart may haiff nane esc, Na ellys nocht that may him plese, Gyff fredome failythe: for fre liking Is yearnyt our all othir thing Na he, that ay hase levyt fre, May nocht knaw weill the propyrte, The angyr, na the wrechyt dome, That is cowplyt to foule thyrldome. Bot gyff he had assayit it, Than all perqucr he suld it wyt; And suld think fredome mar to pryse Than all the gold in warld that is." 1 — (Book i. 1. 22s.) "Barbour," says an eminent critic in Scottish poetical literature, "was evidently skilled in such branches of knowledge as were then cultivated, and his learning was so well regulated as to conduce to the real improvement of his mind; the liberality of his views and the humanity of his sentiments appear occasionally to have been unconfinecl by the narrow boundaries of his own age. He has drawn various illustrations from ancient history, and from the stories of romance, but has rarely displayed his erudi- tion by decking his verses with the names of ancient authors: the distichs of Cato, 2 and the spurious pro- ductions of Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis, are the only profane books to which he formally re- fers. He has borrowed more than one illustration from Statius, who was the favourite classic of those times, and who likewise appears to have been the favourite of Barbour: the more chaste and elegant style of Virgil and Horace were not so well adapted to the prevalent taste as the strained thoughts and gorgeous diction of Statius and Claudian. The manner in which he has incidentally discussed the subject of astrology and necromancy may be speci- fied as not a little creditable to his good sense. It is well known that these branches of divination were assiduously cultivated during the ages of intellectual darkness. The absurdity of astrology and necro- mancy he has not openly attempted to expose; for as the opinions of the many, however unfounded in reason, must not be too rashly stigmatized, this might have been too bold and decided a step. Of the possibility of predicting events he speaks with the caution of a philosopher; but the following passage 1 Snme readers may perhaps arrive at the sense of this fine |'i'-U'-' more readily through the medium of the following 1- traphrasc: — "Ah, Freedom is a noble thing, And can to life a relish bring. Freedom all solace to man gives; Me live-; at ease that freely lives. A noble heart may have no ease, X r aught beside that may it please, If free. lorn fail — for 'tis the choice. More than the chosen, man enjoys. Ah. he that ne'er yet lived in thrall, Knows not the weary pains which gall The limbs, the soul, of him who 'pl.uns In slavery's foul and festering chains; If these he knew. I ween ri^ht soon He would seek back the precious boon Of freedom, which lie then would prize More than all wealth I eneath the skies." And Caton? snyis us in To fenyhe foly quhile is The £ru:< may be considered as a sufficient indication of his deliberate sentiments: — 'And sen thai ar in sic wenyng, For owtyne certante off witting, Me think quha sayis he knawis thingis To cum, he makys great gabingis.' To form such an estimate required a mind capable of resisting a strong torrent of prejudice; nor is it superfluous to remark, that in an age of much higher refinement, Dryden suffered himself to be deluded by the prognostications of judicial astrology. It was not, however, to be expected that Barbour should on every occasion evince a decided superiority to the general spirit of the age to which he belonged. His terrible imprecation on the person who betrayed Sir Christopher Seton, 'In hell condampnyt mot he- be!' ought not to have been uttered by a Christian priest. His detestation of the treacherous and cruel King Edward induced him to lend a credulous ear to the report of his consulting an infernal spirit. The misfortunes which attended Bruce at almost even- step of his early progress he attributes to his sacrilegious act of slaying Comyn at the high altar. He sup- poses that the women and children who assisted in supplying the brave defenders of Berwick with arrows and stones were protected from injury by a miracu- lous interposition. Such instances of superstition or uncharitable zeal are not to be viewed as marking the individual: gross superstition, with its usual concomitants, was the general spirit of the time: and the deviations from the ordinary track are to be traced in examples of liberal feeling or enlightened judgment." 3 One further quotation from the Scottish contem- porary and rival of Chaucer may perhaps be admitted by the reader: it gives one of the slight and minute stories with which the poet fills up his narrative: — " The king has hard a woman cry- He askyt quhat that wes in hy. 'It is the layndar, Schyr,' said ane, 'That her child-ill rycht now has tane, 'And mon leve now behind ws her; 'Tharfor scho makys yone iwill cher.' The king said, ' Certis it war pite 'That scho in that poynt left suld be; 'For certis I trow thar is na man That be ne will rew a woman than.' Hi->s ost all thar arestyt he. And gert a tent sone stentit be, And gert hyr gang in hastily. And othyr women to be hyr by, Quhill scho wes dehor, ho bad. And syne furth on his wayis raid: And how scho furth suld cary it be, Or ouir he furth fur, ordanyt he. This wes a full grot curtasy, That swilk a king, and sa mighty, Cert his men duell on this manor Bot for a pouir lauender." No one can fail to remark that, while the incident is in the highest degree honourable to Bruce, showing that the gentle heart may still be known by gentle deed, so also is Barbour entitled to the ere lit < ' humane feelings, from the way in which he had tie- tailed and commented upon the transaction. Barbour was the author of another considerable work, which has unfortunately perished. This was a chronicle of Scottish history, probably in the man- ner of that by Andrew YVinton. BARCLAY, Alexander, a distinguished writer of the English tongue at the beginning 1 f the >;xi century, is known to have been a native ot V only bv very obscure evidence. He spent - Article "H Ir S4 JOHN BARCLAY. his earliest years at Croydon, in Surrey, and it is conjectured that he received his education at one of the English universities. In the year 1508 he was a prebendary of the collegiate church of St. Mary at Ottery, in Devonshire. He was afterwards a monk, first of the order of St. Benedict at Ely, and latterly of the order of St. Francis at Canterbury. While in this situation, and having the degree of Doctor of Divinity, he published an English translation of the Mirrour of Good Manners (a treatise compiled in Latin by Dominyke Mancyn), for the use of the " juvent of England." After the Reformation Barclay ac- cepted a ministerial charge in the Protestant church, as vicar of Much-Badew in Essex. In 1546 he was vicar of Wokey in Somersetshire, and in 1552 he was presented by the dean and chapter of London to the rectory of Allhallows in Lombard Street. Having reached an advanced age, he died in June this year, at Croydon in Surrey, where he was buried. Barclay published a great number of books, original and translated, and is allowed by the most intelligent inquirers into early English literature to have done more for the improvement of the language than any of his contemporaries. His chief poetical work is The Ship of Fooles, which was written in imitation of a German work entitled, Das Narren Sckiff, published in 1494. The Ship of Fooles, which was first printed in I5°9> describes a vessel laden with all sorts of absurd persons, though there seems to have been no end in view but to bring them into one place, so that they might be described, as the beasts were brought before Adam in order to be named. We shall transcribe one passage from this work, as a specimen of the English style of Barclay: it is a curious contemporary character of King James IV. of Scotland. "And, ye Christen princes, whosoever ye be, If ye be destitute of a noble captayne, Take James of Scotland for his audacitie And proved manhode, if ye will laude attaine : Let him have the forwarde : have ye no disdayne Nor indignation ; for never king was borne That of ought of waure can shaw the uncorne. For if that once he take the speare in hand Agaynst these Turkes strongly with it to ride, None shall be able his stroke for to withstande Nor before his face so hardy to abide. Yet this his manhode increaseth not his pride; But ever sheweth meeknes and humilitie, In worde or dede to hye and lowe degree." Barclay also made a translation of Sallust's History of the Jugurthine War, which was published in 1557, five years after his death, and is one of the earliest specimens of English translation from the classics. BARCLAY, John, A.M., was the founder of a religious sect in Scotland, generally named Bereans, but sometimes called, from the name of this in- dividual, Barclayans. The former title derived its origin from the habit of Mr. Barclay, in always making an appeal to the Scriptures, in vindication of any doctrine he advanced from the pulpit or which was contained in his writings. The perfec- tion of the Scriptures, or of the Book of divine revelation, was the fundamental article of his system; at least this was what he himself publicly declared upon all occasions, and the same sentiments arc still entertained by his followers. In Ac. xvii. 10 the Bereans are thus mentioned, "These were more noble than those in Thessalonica, in that they received the word with all readiness of mind, and searched the Scriptures daily, whether those tilings were so." These words were frequently quoted by Mr. Barclay. It ought to be observed, however, that originally it was not a name of reproach in- vented by the malevolent part of the public, with the design of holding up Mr. Barclay and his associates to contempt, but was voluntarily assumed by them, to distinguish them from other sects of professed Christians. Mr. Barclay was born in 1734. His father, Mr. Ludovic Barclay, was a farmer in the parish of Muthill, in the county of Perth. Being at an early age designed by his parents for the church, he was sent to school, and received the best education which that part of the country could afford. He was afterwards sent by his father to St. Andrews, where he regularly attended the literary and philo- sophical classes, and took the degree of A.M. At the commencement of the subsequent session, he entered the New Divinity or St. Mary's College, a seminary in which theology alone is taught. Nothing very particular occurred during his attend- ance at the hall, as it is generally called. He was uniformly regular in his private conduct, and though constitutionally of very impetuous passions and a fervid imagination, at no time of his life was he ever seduced into the practice of what was immoral or vicious. While he attended the lectures on divinity, the university of St. Andrews, and indeed the Church of Scotland in general, were placed in a very un- pleasant situation, by the agitation of a question which originated with Dr. Archibald Campbell, professor of church history in St Mary's College. He maintained "that the knowledge of the exist- ence of God was derived from revelation, not from nature." This was long reckoned one of the errors of Socinus, and no one in Scotland, before Dr. Campbell's time, had ever disputed the opinion that was generally current, and consequently esteemed orthodox. He published his sentiments without the least reserve, and was equally ready to enter upon a vindication of them. He considered his view of the subject as a foundation necessary to be laid in order to demonstrate the necessity of revelation. A whole host of opponents volunteered against such dangerous sentiments; innumerable pamphlets rapidly made their appearance, and the hue and cry was so loud, that the ecclesiastical courts thought that they could no longer remain silent. Dr. Campbell was publicly prosecuted on account of his heretical opinions, but after long litigation the matter was compromised, and the only effect it produced was, that the students at St. Andrews in general became more zealous defenders of the doctor's system, though they durst not avow it so openly. Among others, Mr. Barclay had warmly espoused Dr. Campbell's system, and long before he left college he was noted as one of his most open and avowed partizans. These principles he never de- serted, and in his view of Christianity it formed an important part of the system of revealed truth. It must not be imagined, however, that Mr. Barclay slavishly followed or adopted all Dr. Campbell's sentiments. Though they were both agreed that a knowledge of the true God was derived from revelation and not from nature, yet they differed upon almost every other point of systematic divinity. Mr. Barclay was early, and continued through life to be a high predestinarian, or what is technically denominated a supralapsarian, while Dr. Campbell, if one may draw an inference from some of his illus- trations, leaned to Arminianism, and doubtless was not a decided Calvinist. Mr. Barclay, having delivered the prescribed dis- courses, now directed his views to obtain license as a preacher in the Establishment, and having delivered the usual series of exercises with the entire approba- tion of his judges, he was, on the 27th September, JOHN BARCLAY. 1759, licensed by the presbytery of Auchterarder. lie was not long without employment. Mr. Jobson, then minister of Errol, near Perth, required an assis- tant, and Mr. Barclay from his popularity as a preacher easily obtained this situation. Here he remained for three or four years, until a rupture with his principal obliged him to leave it. Mr. Jobson was what may be called of the old school. He warmly espoused (as a great many clergymen of the Church of Scotland in those days did) the system of the Marrow of Modern Divinity, a book written by Edward Fisher, an English dissenter, about the middle of the seventeenth century, and republished in Scotland with notes by the celebrated Mr. Thomas Boston of Ettrick. For many years this book occa- sioned a most serious commotion in the Church of Scotland, which is generally called "the Marrcnu controversy." It was, indeed, the remote cause of that great division, which has since been styled the Secession. But there was another cause for the widening of this unfortunate breach. The well- known Mr. John Glass, minister of Tealing, near Dundee, had published, in 1727, a work entitled The Testimony of the King of Martyrs. With the exception of the Cameronians, this gentleman was the first dissenter from the Church of Scotland since the Revolution, and it is worthy of remark that the founders of the principal sects were all originally cast out of the church. Mr. Glass was an admirer of the writings of the most celebrated English In- dependents (of Dr. John Owen in particular), and of their form of church-government. Mr. Barclay, who was no Independent, heartily approved of many of his sentiments respecting the doctrines of the gospel, and as decidedly disapproved of others. He had a system of his own, and agreed with none of the parties; but this, if possible, rendered him more obnoxious to Mr. Jobson. Much altercation took place between them in private. Mr. Barclay publicly declared his sentiments from the pulpit, Mr. Jobson did the same in defence of himself, so that a rupture became unavoidable. About the time of Mr. Barclay's leaving Errol, Mr. Anthony Dow, minister of Fettercairn, in the presbytery of Fordoun, found himself unfit for the full discharge of his duties. He desired his son, the Rev. David Dow, then minister of the parish of Dron, in the presbytery of Perth, to use his endeavour to procure him an assistant. Mr. Dow, who, we believe, was a fellow-student of Mr. Barclay at St. Andrews, and perfectly well acquainted with his talents and character, and the cause of his leaving Errol, immediately made offer to him of being assistant to his father. This he accepted, and he commenced his labours in the beginning of June, 1763. What were Mr. Anthony Dow's peculiar theological sentiments we do not know, but those of Mr. David Dow were not very different from Mr. Barclay's. Here he remained for nine years, which he often declared to have been the most happy, and considered to have been the most useful, period' of his life. Mr. Barclay was of a fair, and in his youth of a very florid, complexion. He then looked' younger than he really was. The people of Fettercairn were at first greatly prejudiced against him on account of his youthful appearance. But this was soon forgotten. His fervid manner, in prayer especially, and at different parts of almost every sermon, rivetted the attention and impressed the minds of his audience to such a degree, that it was almost impossible to lose the memory of it. His popularity as a preacher became so great at Fettercairn, that anything of the like kind is seldom to be met with in the history of the Church of Scotland. The parish church, being an old-fashioned building, had rafters across; these were crowded with hearers; — the sashes of the windowswere taken out toaccommodate themultitude who could not gain admittance. During the whole period of his settlement at Fettercairn, he had regular hearers who flocked to him from ten or twelve of the neighbouring parishes. If an opinion could be formed of what his manner had been in his youth, and at his prime, from what it was a year or two before he died, it must have been vehement, passionate, and impetuous to an uncommon degree. During his residence at Fettercairn he did not confine his labours to his public ministrations in the pulpit, but visited from house to house, was the friend and adviser of all who were at the head of a family, and entered warmly into whatever regarded their interests. He showed the most marked atten- tion to children and to the young; and when any of the household were seized with sickness or disease, he spared no pains in giving tokens of his sympathy, and administered consolation to the afflicted. He was very assiduous in discharging those necessary and important duties which he thought were pecu- liarly incumbent upon a country clergyman. Such long-continued and uninterrupted exertions were accompanied with the most happy effects. A taste for religious knowledge, or what is the same, the reading and study of the Bible, began to prevail to a great extent; the morals of the people were im- proved, and temperance, sobriety, and regularity of behaviour sensibly discovered themselves through- out all ranks. Mr. Barclay had a most luxuriant fancy, a great liking for poetry, and possessed considerable facility of versification. His taste, however, was far from being correct or chaste, and his imagination was little under the management of a sound judgment. Besides his works in prose, he published a great many thousand verses on religious subjects. He had composed a paraphrase of the whole book of Psalms, part of which was published in 1766. To this was prefixed, A Dissertation on the best Means of Interpreting that Portion of the Canon of Scripture. His views upon this subject were pecu- liar. He was of opinion that, in all the psalms which are in the first person, the speaker is Christ, and not David nor any other mere man, and that the other psalms describe the situation of the church of God, sometimes in prosperity, sometimes in ad- versity, and finally triumphing over all its enemies. This essay is characterized by uncommon vigour of expression, yet in some places with considerable acrimony. The presbytery of Fordoun took great offence at this publication, and summoned Mr. Barclay to appear at their bar. He did so, and defended himself with spirit and intrepidity. His opinions were not contrary to any doctrine contained in the Confession of Faith, so that he could not even be censured by them. Mr. Barclay, who being naturally of a frank, open, and ingenuous disposition, had no idea of concealing his opinions, not only continued to preach the same doctrines which were esteemed heretical by the presbytery, but publi.-hed them in a small work, entitled Rejoice c~cermcrc. cr Christ All in All. This obstinacy, as they con- sidered it, irritated them to a very high degree. They drew up a warning against the dangerous doc- trines that he preached, and ordered it to be read publicly in the church of Fettercairn after semi n, and before pronouncing the blessing, by one oi their own members, expressly appointed for that purp> se, on a specified clay, which was accordingly .'.one. Mr. Barclay viewed their conduct with indifference 86 JOHN BARCLAY. mingled with contempt, and no effect of any kind resulted from the warning to the people of Fetter- cairn, who were unanimous in their approbation of Mr. Barclay's doctrine. He continued during Mr. Dow's lifetime to instruct the people of his parish, and conducted his weekly examinations to the great profit of those who gave attendance. In 1769 he published one of the largest of his treatises, entitled Without Faith without God, or an Appeal to God concerning his own Existence. This was a defence of similar sentiments respecting the evidence in favour of the existence of God, which were entertained by Dr. Campbell already mentioned. The illustrations are entirely Calvinistical. This essay is not very methodical. It contains, however, a great many acute observations, and sarcastic remarks upon the systems of those who have adopted the generally current notions respecting natural religion. In the course of the same year, 1769, he addressed a letter on the Eternal Generation of the Son of God, to Messrs. Smith and Ferrier. These two gentle- men had been clergymen in the Church of Scotland. They published their reasons of separation from the Established church. They had adopted all the sentiments of Mr. Glass, who was a most strict In- dependent, and both of them died in the Glassite communion. Dr. Dalgliesh of Peebles had, about the time of their leaving the church, published a new theory respecting the sonship of Christ, and, what is not a little singular, it had the merit of originality, and had never before occurred to any theologian. He held the tri-personality of Deity, but denied the eternal Sonship of the second person of the Godhead, and was of opinion that this fi liation only took place when the divine nature was united to the human, in the person of Christ, Immanuel, God with us. Novel as this doctrine was, all the Scottish Independents, with a very few exceptions, embraced it. The difference between Dalgliesh and the Arians consists in this, that the second person of the Trinity, according to him, is God, equal with the Father; whilst the latter maintain, in a certain sense, his supreme exaltation, yet they consider him as subordinate to the Father. Mr. Barclay's letter states very clearly the scriptural arguments usually adduced in favour of the eternal generation of the Son of God. It is written with great moderation and in an excellent spirit. In 1 77 1 he published a letter, On the Assurance of Faith, addressed to a gentleman who was a mem- ber of Mr. Cudworth's congregation in London. Cudworth was the person who made a distinguished figure in defending the celebrated Mr. Hervey against the acrimonious attack of Mr. Robert Sandeman, who was a Glassite. Excepting in some peculiar forms of expression, Cudworth's views of the assurance of faith did not materially differ from Mr. Barclay's. There appeared also in the same year A Letter on Prayer, addressed to an Indepen- dent congregation in Scotland. The Rev. Anthony Dow, minister of Fettercairn, died in 1772. The presbytery of Fordoun seized this opportunity of gratifying their spleen; they pro- hibited Mr. Barclay from preaching in the kirk of Fettercairn, and used all their influence to prevent him from being employed, not only within their hounds, which lie in what is called the Mearns, but they studied to defame him in all quarters. The clergy of the neighbouring district, that is, in Angus, were much more friendly. They were ready to ad- mit him into their pulpits, and he generally preached every Lord's-day, during the subsequent autumn, winter, and spring. Multitudes from all parts of the country crowded to hear him. The patronage of Fettercairn is in the gift of the crown. The parish almost unanimously favoured Mr. Barclay. They were not, however, permitted to have any choice, and the Rev. Robert Foote, then minister of Eskdale Muir, was presented. At the modera- tion of the call, only three signed in favour of Mr. Foote. The parishioners appealed to the synod, and from the synod to the General Assembly, who ordered Mr. Foote to be inducted. The presbytery carried their hostility against Mr. Barclay so far, as to refuse him a certificate of character, which is always done, as a matter of course, when a preacher leaves their bounds. He appealed to the synod, and afterwards to the Assembly, who found (though he was in no instance accused of any immorality) that the presbytery were justified in withholding the certificate. He had no alternative, and therefore left the communion of the Church of Scotland. A great many friends in Edinburgh, who had adopted his peculiar sentiments, formed themselves into a church, and urged him to become their pastor. The people of Fettercairn also solicited him to labour in the ministry amongst them; but for the present he declined both invitations. Having hitherto held only the status of a probationer or licentiate, he visited Newcastle, and was ordained there, October 1 2th, 1773. The certificate of ordination is signed by the celebrated James Murray of Newcastle, the author of the well-known Sermons to Asses, which contain a rich vein of poignant satire, not unworthy of Swift. It was also signed by Robert Somerville of Weardale, and James Somerville of Swallwell, and Robert Green, clerk. His friends at Fettercairn meanwhile erected a place of worship at Sauchyburn, in the immediate neighbourhood, and renewed their application to have him settled amongst them. But Mr. Barclay, conceiving that his sphere of usefulness would be more extended were he to reside in Edin- burgh, gave the preference to the latter. Mr. James M'Rae, having joined Mr. Barclay, was ordained minister at Sauchyburn in spring, 1774. The con- gregation there, at this time, consisted of from 1000 to 1200 members. Mr. Barclay remained in Edinburgh about three years; and was attended by a numerous congregation, who had adopted his views of religious truth. But having a strong desire to disseminate his opinions, he left the church at Edinburgh under the care of his elders and deacons, and repaired to London. For nearly two years he preached there, as well as at Bristol, and other places in England. A church was formed in the capital. He also established there a debating society, which met weekly in the evening, for the purpose of disputing with any who might be disposed to call his doctrines in question. One of those who went with the design of impugning Mr. Barclay's opinions was Mr. William Nelson, who eventually became a convert. This gentleman had been educated in the Church of England, but, when Mr. Barclay came first to London, had joined the Whitefieldian or Calvinistic Methodists. He afterwards came to Scotland, was connected with Mr. Barclay, practised as a surgeon in Edinburgh, and delivered lectures on chemistry there, for about ten years. He was a man of considerable abilities, amiable in private life, and of the most unblemished character. He was cut off by apoplexy in 1S00. At Edinburgh Mr. Barclay published an edition of his works in three volumes, including a pretty large treatise on the Sin against the Holy Ghost, which, according to him, is merely unbelief or dis- crediting the Scripture. In 1783 he published a small work for the use of the Berean churches, The Epistle to the Hebrews Paraphrased, with a collection JOHN BARCLAY, M.D. S7 of psalms and songs from his other works, accom- panied with A Close Examination into the Truth of several received Principles. Mr. Barclay died on the 29th of July, 1798. Being Sabbath, when on his road to preach, he felt him- self rather unwell; he took a circuitous route to the meeting-house, but finding himself no better, he called at the house of one of the members of his con- gregation. In a few minutes after he entered the house, while kneeling in prayer beside a chair, he expired without a groan, in the sixty-fourth year of his age, and thirty-ninth of his professional career. His nephew Dr. John Barclay was immediately sent for, who declared his death to have been occa- sioned by apoplexy. He was interred in the Calton old burying-ground, Edinburgh, where a monu- ment has been erected to his memory. Mr. Barclay was a very uncommon character, and made a great impression upon his contemporaries. There are Berean churches in Edinburgh, Glasgow, Crieff, Kirkcaldy, Dundee, Arbroath, Montrose, Brechin, Fettercairn, and a few other places. BARCLAY, John, M.D., an eminent lecturer on anatomy, was the nephew of John Barclay, the Berean, after whom he was named. He was born in 1759, or 1760, at Cairn, near to Drummaquhance, in Perthshire. His father was a respectable farmer in that part of the country, and was characterized by great natural shrewdness and vivacity. His son John was educated at the parish school of Muthill, and early distinguished himself by his superior powers of mind, and by his application. Being destined for the church, he in 1776 repaired to the university of St. Andrews, where he became a successful candidate for a bursary. He made great proficiency in the Greek language, and also discovered a par- tiality for the study of mathematics, although he does not appear to have prosecuted this important branch of science. After having attended the usual preliminary classes at the united college of St. Salvador and St. Leonard, Barclay studied divinity in St. Mary's, attaching himself to the moderate party in the church. He studied divinity at St. Andrews, under the professor, Dr. Spence, for two or three sessions, but having engaged to teach a school, he found it more convenient to deliver the prescribed exercises before the professor in Edin- burgh. On one of these occasions there took place a very singular occurrence, which the doctor himself used to relate. Having come to Edinburgh for the express purpose of delivering a discourse in the hall, he waited upon his uncle, who was an excellent scholar. It was what is called "an exercise and addition," or a discourse, in which the words of the original are criticised — the doctrines they contain illustrated — and it is concluded by a brief paraphrase. He proposed to read it to his uncle before he delivered it— and when he was in the act of doing s ), his respected relative objected to a criticism which lie had introduced, and endeavoured to show that it was contrary to several passages in the writings of the apostle Paul. The doctor had pre- pared the exercise with great care, and had quoted the authority of Xenophon in regard to the meaning of the word. The old man got into a violent passion at his nephew's obstinacy, and seizing a huge folio that lay on the table, hurled it at the recusant's head, which it fortunately missed. Barclay, who really had a great esteem for his uncle, related the anecdote to a clergyman a few days after it happened, and laughed very heartily at it. Barclay wrote about this time, A History of all Religions, but of this no trace was to be found among his manuscripts. Having delivered with approbation his trial dis- courses, he obtained license from the presbytery of Dunkeld. Meanwhile he acted as tutor to the two sons of Sir James Campbell, of Aberuchiil, whose daughter, Eleonora, in 1811, became his wife. In 1789 he accompanied his pupils to Edinburgh, where he preached occasionally for his friends. The medical school of Edinburgh was then at the height of its reputation. Cullen's brilliant career was drawing to a close, and he was succeeded by the celebrated Dr. Gregory. Dr. Black and the second Monro still shed lustre on their respective depart- ments. Barclay was principally attracted to the anatomical class by the luminous prelections of Dr. Monro, and appears to have thenceforward devoted himself to a complete course of medical study. In 1796 he took the degree of M.D., choosing as the subject of his thesis JJe Anima, sen Principio Vitali, the vital principle having long been with him a favourite topic of speculation. After graduation, Dr. Barclay proceeded to London, and attended the anatomical lectures of Dr. Marshall, of Thavies Inn. In 1797 he commenced a course of private lectures on anatomy in a small class-room in the High-school yards, Edinburgh, but had to contend with for- midable difficulties; the popularity of the second Monro and of John Bell being still undiminished amongst the students. Dr. Barclay, therefore, had few students at first; but he resolved to persevere. The introductory lectures (which, after his death, were published by his friend, Sir George Ballingall, M.D.) were prepared with scrupulous care. He studied to express himself in plain and perspicuous language, which he justly esteemed to be the chief quality of style in lecturing. His illustrations were clear and copious, and not unfrequently an apposite anecdote fixed more strongly in the memories of his pupils the particular part he was demonstrating; and, at a time when it was by no means fashionable, he never omitted to point out the wisdom of God, as displayed in that most wonderful of all his works, the formation and support of the human body. Barclay's first literary performance was the article ' ' Physiology, " in the third edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica. In 1803 he published a new anatomical nomenclature. This had been long the subject of his meditation, and was a great desideratum in anatomy. The vagueness or indefinite nature of the terms of anatomy has been perceived and regretted by all anatomists. They have produced much am- biguity and confusion in anatomical descriptions, and their influence has been strongly felt, particularly by those who have just entered upon the study. Barclay was the first who, fully aware of the ob- stacles that were thus thrown in the way of students, set about inventing a new nomenclature. The vagueness of the terms principally referred to those implying position, aspect, and direction. Thus, what is superior in one position of the body, becomes anterior in another, posterior in a third, and even inferior in a fourth. What is external in one posi- tion is internal in another, &c. These terms become much more ambiguous in comparative anatomy. His object was to contrive a nomenclature, in which the same terms should universally apply to the same organ, in all positions of the body, an ': in ail animals. It is the opinion of very candid ju ges that he has succeeded in his endeavour, and tnat, were his nomenclature adopted, the greatest advan- tages would accrue to the study of the science. 1 he proposal is delivered with singular m . ' ■ • dis- covers both a most accurate know 1 and great ingenuity. In 1S08 appeared his work on the muscular ss JOHN BARCLAY. motions of the human body, and in 1812 a descrip- tion of the arteries of the human body — both of ■which contain a most complete account of those parts of the system. These three works were dedi- cated to the late Dr. Thomas Thomson, professor of chemistry in the university of Glasgow. The last "work which Dr. Barclay lived to publish, was an inquiry into the opinions, ancient and modern, con- cerning life and organization. This, as we have mentioned, formed the subject of his thesis. He also delivered, during several summers, a course of lectures on comparative anatomy, a branch of study for which he had always shown a marked partiality — not only as an object of scientific research, but as of great practical utility. At one time he proposed to the town council, the patrons of the university of Edinburgh, to be created professor of that department of the science; how the proposal was received is not known. The writer of the memoir of Dr. Barclay, in the Naturalist's Library, furnishes a characteristic illustration of the lively interest he felt in the dissections of uncommon animals which came in his way in the Scottish metropolis. "At one of these we happened to be present. It was the dissection of a beluga, or white whale. Never shall we forget the enthusiasm of the doctor wading to his knees amongst the viscera of the great tenant of the deep, alternately cutting away with his large and dexterous knife, and regaling his nostrils with copious infusions of snuff, while he pointed out, in his usual felicitous manner, the various contrasts or agreements of the forms of the viscera with those of other animals and of man." Barclay was the means of establishing, under the auspices of the Highland Society, a veterinary school in Edinburgh. He might be called an enthusiast in his profession: there was no branch of anatomy, whether practical or theoretical, that he had not cultivated with the utmost care; he had studied the works of the ancient and modern, foreign and British, anatomists with astonishing diligence. What- ever related to natural science was certain of interest- ing him. The benevolence and generosity of his temper were also unbounded. No teacher was ever more generally beloved by his pupils than Dr. Barclay, to which his uniform kindness and affability, and readiness to promote their interest upon every occasion, greatly contributed. Many young men in straitened circumstances were permitted to attend his instructions gratuitously; and he has even been known to furnish them with the means of feeing other lecturers. It is a curious circumstance, that Dr. Barclay often declared that he had neither the sense of taste nor of smell. His la>t appearance in the lecture-room was in 1825, when he delivered the introductory lecture. lie died 21st August, 1826, and was buried at Restalrig, near Edinburgh, the family burying-ground of his father-in-law Sir James Campbell. His funeral was attended by the Royal College of Surgeons as a body. A bust of Dr. Barclay, subscribed for by his pupils, and executed by Joseph, was presented to the College of Surgeons, to which he bequeathed his museum — a valuable collection of specimens, particularly in comparative anatomy, and which is to retain his name. His design in this legacy was to prevent it from being broken up and scattered after his death. BARCLAY, John, son of William Barclay, was born at I'ontamousson in France, January 28, 1582, and was educated under the care of Jesuits. When only nineteen years old, he published notes on the Thebais of Statius. He was the innocent cause of a quarrel between his father and the Jesuits, in con- sequence of which the family removed to England, in 1603. At the beginning of the year 1604 young Barclay presented a poetical panegyric to the king, under the title of Kalendcc Januarice. To this monarch he soon after dedicated the first part of his celebrated Latin satire entitled Euphor- mion. John Barclay, like many young men of genius, was anxious for distinction, qiwciinque ?nodo, and, having an abundant conceit of his own abilities, and looking upon all other men as only fit to furnish him with matter of ridicule, he launched at the very first into the dangerous field of general satire. He confesses in the Apology which he afterwards pub- lished for his Euphormion, that, "as soon as he left school, a juvenile desire of fame incited him to attack the whole zvorld, rather with a view of promoting his own reputation than of dishonouring individuals." We must confess that this grievous early fault of Barclay was only the transgression of a very spirited character. He says, in his dedication of Euphormion to King James, written when he was two-and-twenty, that he was ready, in the service of his majesty, to convert his pen into a sword, or his sword into a pen. His prospects at this court were unfortunately blighted, like those of his father, by the religious contests of the time; and in 1604 the family returned to France. John, however, appears to have spent the next year chiefly in England, probably upon some renewal of his prospects at the court of King James. In 1606, after the death of his father, he returned to France, and at Paris married Louisa Debonnaire, with whom he soon after settled at London. Here he published the second part of his Euphormion, dedicating it to the Earl of Salisbury, a minister in whom he could find no fault but his excess of virtue. Lord Hailes remarks, as a surpris- ing circumstance, that the writer who could discover no faults in Salisbury, aimed the sliafts of ridicule at Sully; but nothing can be less surprising in such a person as Barclay. A man who satirized only for the sake of personal eclat, would as easily flatter in gratitude for the least notice. It should also be recollected, that many minds do not, till the ap- proach of middle life, acquire the power of judging accurately regarding virtue and vice, or merit and demerit: all principles, in such minds, are jumbled like the elements of the earth in chaos, and are only at length reduced to order by the overmastering influence of the understanding. In the disposition which seems to have characterized Barclay for flattering those who patronised him, he endeavoured to please King James, in the second part of the Euphormion, by satirizing tobacco and the Puritans. In this year he also published an account of the Gunpowder Plot, a work remarked to be singularly impartial, considering the religion of the writer. During the course of three years' residence in Eng- land, Barclay received no token of the royal liber- ality. Sunk in indigence, with an increasing family calling for support, he only wished to be indemnified for his English journeys, and to have his charges defrayed into France. At length he was relieved from his distresses by his patron Salisbury. Of thc^e circumstances, so familiar and so discouraging to men of letters, we are informed by some allegorical and obscure verses written by Barclay at that sad season. Having removed to France in 1609, he next year published his Apology for the Euphormion. This denotes that he came to see the folly of a general contempt for mankind at the age of twenty- eight. How he supported himself at this time JOHN BARCLAY. ROBERT BARCLAY, 89 does not appear; but he is found, in 1614, publishing his Icon Anunarum, which is declared by a compe- tent critic to be the best, though not the most celebrated, of his works. It is a delineation of the genius and manners of the European nations, with remarks, moral and philosophical, on the various tempers of men. It is pleasant to observe that in this work he does justice to the Scottish people. In 161 5 Barclay is said to have been invited by Pope Paul V. to Rome. He had previously lashed the holy court in no measured terms; but so marked a homage from this quarter to his distinction in letters, as usual, softened his feelings, and he now accord- ingly shifted his family thither, and lived the rest of his life under the protection of the pontiff. In 1617 he published at Rome his Paranesis ad Sectaries, Libro Duo; a work in which he seems to have aimed at atoning for his former sarcasms at the pope, by attacking those whom his holiness called heretics. Barclay seems to have been honoured with many marks of kindness, not only from the pope, but also from Cardinal Barberini; yet it does not appear that he obtained much emolument. Incumbered with a wife and family, and having a spirit above his fortune, this omission must have been peculiarly trying. It was at that time that he composed his Latin romance called Argents. He employed his vacant hours in cultivating a flower garden; and Rossi relates, in his turgid Italian style, that Barclay cared not for those bulbous roots which produce flowers of a sweet scent, but cultivated such as pro- duced flowers void of smell, but having variety of colours. Hence we may conclude that he was among the first of those who were infected with that strange disease, a passion for tulips, which soon after overspread Europe, and is commemorated under the name of the tulipo-viania. Barclay might truly have said with Virgil, " Tantns amorjlortim!" He had two mastiffs placed as sentinels to protect his garden; and rather than abandon his favourite flowers, chose to continue his residence in an ill-aired and unwholesome situation. This extraordinary genius, who seems to have combined the perfervidum ingeniiim of his father's country with the mercurial vivacity of his mother's, <.lied at Rome on the 12th of August, 1621, in the thirty-ninth year of his age. He left a wife, who had tormented him much with jealousy (through the ardour of her affection, as he explained it), besides three children, of whom two were boys. He also left in the hands of the printer his celebrated Argents, and also an unpublished history of the conquest of Jerusalem, and some fragments of a genera! history of Europe. He was buried in the church of St. Onuphrius, and his widow erected a monument to him, with his bust in marble, at the church of St. Lawrence, on the road to Tivoli. A strange circumstance caused the destruction of this trophy. Cardinal Barberini chanced to erect a monument, exactly similar, at the same place, to his preceptor, Beruardus Gtilienus a nwnte Sancti Sabini. When the widow of Barclay heard of this, she said, "My husband was a man of birth, and famous in the literary world; I will not suffer him to remain on a level with a base and obscure pedagogue." She therefore caused the bust to be removed, and the inscription to be obliterated. The account given ot the Argents by I. old Hailes, who wrote a life of John Barclay a- a specimen of a Biograp/iia Scotica, 1 is as follows: "Argent's is generally supposed to be a history under feigned names, and not a romance. 1 Printed in 4: 1, in i~Zz, an I the gr un ':■'■•■ rk f t'.u present sketch. Barclay himself contributed to establish this opinion, by introducing some real characters into the work. But that was merely to compliment certain digni- taries of the church, whose good offices he courted, or whose power he dreaded. The key prefixed to Argent's has perpetuated the error. There are, no doubt, many incidents in it that allude to the state of Erance during the civil wars in the seventeenth century; but it requires a strong imagination indeed to discover Queen Elizal>eth in Hyanisbe, or Henry III. of Erance in Meleander." On the whole. Argent's appears to be a poetical fable, replete with moral and political reflections. Of this work three English translations have appeared, the last in 1772; but it now only enjoys the reflective reputation of a work that was once in high repute. We may quote, however, the opinion which Cowper was pleased to express regarding this singular production. "It is," says the poet of Olney, "the most amusing romance that ever was written. It is the only one, indeed, of an old date, that I had ever the patience to go through with. It is interesting in a high degree, richer in incident than can be imagined, full of sur- prises, which the reader never forestalls, and yet free from entanglement and confusion. The style too appears to me to be such as would not dishonour Tacitus himself." BAHCLAY, Robert, the celebrated apologist for the Quakers, was born on the 23d of December, 1648, at Gordonstoun, in Moray. His father, Colonel David Barclay, of Ury, was the son of David Barclay of Mathers, the representative of an old Scoto-Xorman family, which traced itself, through fifteen intervening generations, to Theobald de Berkeley, who acquired a settlement in Scotland at the beginning of the twelfth century. The mother of the apologist was Catherine Gordon, daughter of Sir Robert Gordon of Gordonstoun, the premier baronet of Xova Scotia, and well-known historian of the house of Sutherland. The ancient family of De Berkeley became pos- sessed of the estate of Mathers, by marriage, in the year 1 351. Alexander de Berkeley, who flourished in the fifteenth century, is said to have been the first laird of Mathers who changed the name to Barclay. David, the grandfather of the apologist, was reduced to such difficulties as to be obliged to sell the estate of Mathers, after it had been between two and three- hundred years in the family, as also the more ancient inheritance, which had been the property of the family from its first settlement in Scotland in the days of King David I. His son David, the father (jf the apologist, was consequently obliged to seek his fortune as a volunteer in the Scottish brigades in the service of Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden. This gentleman, like many others of his countrymen and fellow-soldiers, returned home on the breaking out of the religious troubles in Scotland, and received the command of a troop of horse. Having ;< ine : the army raised by the Duke of Hamilton in 164S for the relief of Charles I., lie was subsequently deprived of his command, at the instance ol 1 'liver Cromwell; and he never afterwards appeared military transactions. During the protectorate, he was several times sent as a representative from Scotland to Cromwell's parliaments, and. in -.In- capacity, is said to have uniformly exerted I imsell to repress the ambition- designs of the pi After the restoration, David Barclay wa- prisoner to Edinburgh Castle, upon some groundless charge of hostility to the g vernment. IK \\ after liberated, through the interest of the Earl of Middleton, with whom lie had served in the civil go ROBERT BARCLAY, war. But during this imprisonment, a change of the highest importance, both to himself and his son, had come over his mind. In the same prison was con- fined the celebrated laird of Swinton, who, after figuring under the protectorate as a lord of session, and a zealous instrument for the support of Crom- well's interest in Scotland, had, during a short residence in England before the restoration, adopted the principles of Quakerism, then recently pro- mulgated for the first time by George Eox, and was now more anxious to gain proselytes to that body than to defend his life against the prosecution that awaited him. When this extraordinary person was placed on trial before parliament, he might have easily eluded justice by pleading that the parlia- mentary attainder upon which he was now charged had become null by the rescissory act. But he scorned to take advantage of any plea suggested by worldly lawyers. lie answered, in the spirit of his sect, that when he committed the crimes laid to his charge he was in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity, but that God having since called him to the light, he saw and acknowledged his past errors, and did not refuse to pay the forfeit of them, even though in their judgment this should extend to his life. His speech was, though modest, so majestic, and, though expressive of the most perfect patience, so pathetic, that it appeared to melt the heart of his judges, and, to the surprise of all who remembered his past deeds, he was recommended to the royal mercy, while many others, far less obnoxious, were treated with unrelenting severity. Such was the man who inoculated David Barclay with those prin- ciples of which his son was destined to be the most distinguished advocate. Robert Barclay, the subject of the present article, received the rudiments of learning in his native country, and was afterwards sent to the Scots college at Paris, of which his uncle Robert (son to the last Barclay of Mathers) was rector. Here he made such rapid advances in his studies, as to gain the notice and praise of the masters of the college; and he also became so great a favourite with his uncle, as to receive the offer of being made his heir, if he would remain in France. But his father, fearing that he might be induced to embrace the Catholic faith, went, in compliance with his mother's dying request, to Paris to bring him home, when he was not much more than sixteen years of age. The uncle still endeavoured to prevent his return, and proposed to purchase for him, and present to him immediately, an estate greater than his paternal one. Robert replied, "He is my father, and must be obeyed.'' Thus, even at a very early age, he showed how far he could prefer a sacred principle to any view of private interest, however dazzling. His uncle is said to have felt much chagrin at his refusal, and to have consequently left his property to the college and to other religious houses in France. The return of Robert Barclay to his native country- took place in 1664, about two years before his father made open profession of the principles of the Society of Friends. He was now, even at the early age of sixteen, perfectly skilled in the French and Latin languages, the latter of which he could write and speak with wonderful fluency and correctness; he had also a competent knowledge of the sciences. With regard to the state of his feelings on the subject of religion at this early period of life, he says, in his Treatise on Universal Love: "My first education, from my infancy, fell amongst the strictest sort of Calvinists; those of our country being generally ac- knowledged to be the severest of that sect; in the heat of zeal surpassing not only Geneva, from whence they derive their pedigree, but all other the re- formed churches abroad, so called. I had scarce got out of my childhood, when I was, by the permission of divine providence, cast among the company of Papists; and my tender years and immature capacity not being able to withstand and resist the insinua- tions that were used to proselyte me to that way, I became quickly defded with the pollutions thereof, and continued therein for a time, until it pleased God, through his rich love and mercy, to deliver me out of those snares, and to give me a clear under- standing of the evil of that way. In both these sects I had abundant occasion to receive impressions con- trary to this principle of love:- seeing the straitness of several of their doctrines, as well as their practice of persecution, do abundantly declare how opposite they are to universal love. The time that intervened betwixt my forsaking the Church of Rome, and joining those with whom I now stand engaged, I kept myself free from joining with any sort of people, though I took liberty to hear several; and my con- verse was most with those that inveigh much against judging, and such kind of severity; which latitude may perhaps be esteemed the other extreme, opposite to the precisencss of these other sects; whereby I also received an opportunity to know what usually is pretended on that side likewise. As for those I am now joined to, I justly esteem them to be the true followers and servants of Jesus Christ." In his Apology he communicates the following account of his conversion to the principles previously embraced by his father. "It was not," he says, "by strength of argument, or by a particular dis- quisition of each doctrine, and convincement of my understanding thereby, that I came to receive and bear witness of the truth, but by being secretly reached by this life. For when I came into the silent assemblies of God's people, I felt a secret power amongst them which touched my heart; and as I gave way unto it, I found the evil weakening in me, and the good raised up; and so I became thus knit and united unto them, hungering more and more after the increase of this power and life, whereby I might find myself perfectly redeemed." According to his friend William Penn, it was in the year 1667, when only nineteen years of age, that he fully became "convinced, and publicly owned the testimony of the true light, enlightening every man." "This writer," says he, "came early forth a zealous and fervent witness for it [the true light], enduring the cross and despising the shame that attended his discipleship, and received the gift of the ministry as his greatest honour, in which he laboured to bring others to God, and his labour was not in vain in the Lord." The true grounds of Barclay's predilection for the meek principles of the Friends is perhaps to be found in his physical temperament. On arriving in Scotland, in 1664, witli a heart open to every generous impulse, his mild nature appears, from one of the above extracts of his own writings, to have been shocked by the mutual hostility which existed between the adherents of the established and the dis- established churches. While these bodies judged of each other in the severest spirit, they joined in one point alone — a sense of the propriety of persecuting the new and strange sect called Quakers, from whom both might rather have learned a lesson of forbear- ance and toleration. Barclay, wdio, from his French education, was totally free of all prejudices on either side, seems to have deliberately preferred that sect which alone, of all others in his native country, pro- fessed to regard every denomination of fellow-Chris- tians with an equal feeling of kindness. In February, 1669-70, Robert Barclay married ROBERT BARCLAY. 91 Christian Mollison, daughter of Gilbert Mollison, merchant in Aberdeen; and on his marriage settled at Ury with his father. The issue of this marriage was three sons and four daughters, all of whom survived him, and were living fifty years after his death. Robert Barclay after his marriage lived about sixteen years with his father; in which time he wrote most of those works by which his fame has been established. All his time, however, was not passed in endeavouring to serve the cause of religion with his pen. He both acted and suffered for it. Mis whole existence, indeed, seems to have been henceforth devoted to the interests of that profession of religion which he had adopted. In prosecution of his purpose, he made a number of excursions into England, Holland, and particular parts of Germany; teaching, as he went along, the universal and saving light of Christ, sometimes vocally, but as often, we may suppose, by what he seems to have considered the far more powerful manner, expressive silence. In these peregrinations, the details of which, had they been preserved, would have been deeply in- teresting, he was on some occasions accompanied by the famous William Penn, and probably also by others of the brethren. The first of his publications in the order of time was, " Truth cleared of Calumnies, occasioned by a book entitled A Dialogue between a Quaker and a Stable Christian, written by the Rev. William Mitchell, a minister or preacher in the neighbour- hood of Aberdeen." "The Quakers," says a defender of the Scottish church, "were, at this time, only newly risen up; they were, like every new sect, ob- trusively forward ; some of their tenets were of a startling and some of them of an incomprehensible kind, and to the rigid Presbyterians especially they were exceedingly offensive. Hearing these novel opinions, not as simply stated and held by the Quakers, who were, generally speaking, no great logicians, but in their remote consequences, they regarded them with horror, and in the heat of their zeal, it must be confessed, often lost sight both of charity and truth. They thus gave their generally passive opponents great advantages over them. Barclay, who was a man of great talents, was certainly in this instance successful in refuting many false charges, and rectifying many forced constructions that had been put upon parts of their practice, and, upon the whole, setting the character of his silent brethren in a more favourable light than formerly; though he was far from having demonstrated, as these brethren fondly imagined, 'the soundness and Scripture verity of their principles.'" This publica- tion was dated at Ury, the 19th of the second month, 1670, and in the eleventh month of the same year, he added to it, by way of appendix, "Some things of weighty concernment proposed in meekness and love, by way of queries, to the serious consideration of the inhabitants of Aberdeen, which also may be ol use to such as are of the same mind with them elsewhere in this nation." These queries, twenty in number, were more particularly directed to Messrs. David l.yal, George Meldrum, and John Menzies, the ministers of Aberdeen, who had, not only from the pulpit forbidden their people to read the afore- said treatise, but had applied to the magistrates of Aberdeen to suppress it. Mitchell wrote a reply to Truth cleared of Calumnies, and on the 24th dav of the tenth month. 1671, Barclay finished a rejoinder at Ury. under the title of William Mitchell Unmasked, or the Staggering Instability of the /'refolded Stable Christian Discovered ; his Omissions Observed, and Weakness Unvailed. Sec. This goes over the same ground with the former treatise, and is seasoned with several severe strokes of sarcasm against these Aberdonians, who, "notwithstanding they had sworn to avoid a detestable neutrality, could now preach under the bishop, dispense with the doxology, for- bear lecturing and other parts of the directorial discipline, at the bishop's order, and yet keep a re- serve for presbytery in case it came again in fashion." He also turns some of William Mitchell's arguments against himself with great ingenuity, though still he comes far short of establishing his' own theory. It is worthy of remark, that, in this treatise, he has frequent recourse to Richard Baxter's aphorisms on justification, whose new law scheme of the gospel seems to have been very much to the taste of the Quaker. It appears to have been on the appearance of this publication that, "for a sign and wonder to the generation," he walked through the chief streets of the city of Aberdeen, clothed in sackcloth and ashes; on which occasion he published (in 1672) a Seasonable Warning and Serious Exhortation to, and Expostulation with, the Inhabitants of Aberdeen, concerning this present Dispensation and Day of God's Living Visitation towards them. His next performance was, A Catechism and Con- fession of Faith, the answers to the questions being all in the express words of Scripture; and the pre- face to it is dated, "From Ury, the place of my being, in my native country of Scotland, the nth of the sixth month, 1673." This was followed by The Anarchy of the Ranters, &c. We now come to his great work, "An Apology for the true Christian Divinity, as the same is held forth and preached by the People called in scorn Quakers: being a full explanation and vindication of their principles and doctrines, by many arguments deduced from Scripture and right reason, and the testimonies of famous authors, both ancient and modern; with a full answer to the strongest objections usually made against them. Presented to the king. Written and published in Latin for the information of strangers, by Robert Barclay, and now put into our own lan- guage for the benefit of his countrymen." The epistle to the king, prefixed to this elaborate work, is dated, "From Ury, the place of my pilgrimage, in my native country of Scotland, the 25th of the month called November, 1675." This epistle is not a little curious, among other things, for the ardent anticipations which the writer indulges with regard to the increase and future prevalence of the doctrines of the Quakers, which he calls "the gospel now again revealed after a long and dark night of apostasy, and commanded to be preached to all nations." After some paragraphs, sufficiently complimentary to the peaceable habits of his silence-loving brethren, he tells his majesty that "generations to come will not more admire that singular step of Divine Provi- dence, in restoring thee to thy throne without blood- shed, than they shall admire the increase and pri >gre- - of this truth without all outward help, and against so great opposition, which shall be none of the Iea-t things rendering thy memory remarkable." In looking back upon the atrocities that marked the reign of Charles II., the growth of Quakerism i- scarcely ever thought of, and the sufferings < ■ t ;ts professors are nearly invisible, by reason ol the tar greater sufferings of another branch ot the C .. church. Though led by his enthusia-m in his own cause to overrate it, Barclay certainly had no in I - tion of flattering the king. "God," he goes n : tell him, "hath done great things for thee; he sufficiently shown thee that it is by him ] and that he can pull down and set u] jasure. Thou hast tasted of prosperity and adversity; th u knowest what it is to be banished thy native c. untry, 92 ROBERT BARCLAY. to be overruled as well as to rule and sit upon the throne, and being oppressed thou hast reason to know how hateful the oppressor is. both to God and man. If after all these warnings and advertisements, thou dost not turn unto the Lord with all thy heart, but forget him who remembered thee in thy distress, and give up thyself to lust and vanity, surely great will be thy condemnation." The Apology is a most elaborate work, indicating no small portion of both talent and learning. It contains, indeed, the sum of the author's thoughts in those treatises we have already mentioned, as well as in those which he afterwards published, digested into fifteen propositions, in which are included all the peculiar notions of the sect: — immediate revelation; the universal spiritual light; silent worship; perfec- tion; the rejection of the Sabbath and the sacraments, &c. &c. This is done with great apparent simplicity, and many plausible reasons, a number of excellent thoughts being struck out by the way; yet they are far from being satisfactory, and never will be so to any who are not already strongly possessed with an idea of the internal light in man, to which the author holds even the Scriptures themselves to be sub- ordinate. There are, indeed, in the book, many sophisms, many flat contradictions, and many asser- tions that are incapable of any proof. The appeals which he makes to his own experience for the proof of his doctrines are often not a little curious, and strongly illustrative of his character, as well as of the principles he had adopted. The same year in which he published the Apology, lie published an account of a dispute with the students of Aberdeen, which touches little besides the folly of such attempts to establish truth or con- fute error. The following year, in conjunction with George Keith, he put forth a kind of second part to the foregoing article, which they entitled Quakerism Confirmed, being an answer to a pamphlet by the Aberdeen Students, entitled Quakerism Canvassed. This treats only of matters to be found in a better form in the Apology. In the first month of the year 1677, from Aberdeen prison, he wrote his treatise of Universal Love; and in the end of the same year he wrote from his house at Ury, An Epistle of Love and Friendly Advice to the Ambassadors of tlie several Primes of Europe, met at Nimeguen, to consult the peace of Christendom so far as they are concerned; •wherein the true cause of t lie present war is discovered, and the right remedy and means for a firm and settled peace is proposed. This last was written in Latin, but published also in English for the benefit of his countrymen. Both of the above tracts de- serve serious perusal. In 1679 he published a vin- dication of his Apology; and in 1686 his last work, The Possibility and Necessity of the Inward and Imme- diate Revelation of the Spirit of Cod towards the foun- dation and ground of true faith ; in a letter to a person of quality in Holland; published both in Latin and English. In neither of these, in our opinion, has he added anything to his Apology, which, as we have already said, contains the sum of all that he has written or published. In the latter part of his life, Barclay obtained, by the influence of his talents and the sincerity and simplicity of his character and professions, an exemp- tion from that persecution which marked his early years. He had also contributed in no small degree, by the eloquence of his writings in defence of the Friends, to procure for them a considerable share of public respect. He is even found, strangely enough, to have latterly possessed some influence at the dissolute court of Charles II. In 1679 he obtained a charter from this monarch, under the great seal, erecting his lands of Ury, 1 into a free barony, with civil and criminal jurisdiction to him and his heirs. This charter was afterwards ratified by an act of parliament, the preamble of which states it to be "for the many services done by Colonel David Barclay, and his son the said Robert Barclay, to the king and his most royal progenitors in times past." Another and more distinguished mark of court favour was conferred upon him in 1682, when he received the nominal appointment of governor of East Jersey, in North America, from the proprietors of that province, of whom his friend the Earl of Perth was one. He was also himself made a pro- prietor, and had allotted to him 5000 acres of land above his proprietary share, as inducements for his acceptance of the dignity, which, at the same time, he was permitted to depute. The royal commission confirming this grant states, that such are his known fidelity and capacity, that he has the government during life, but that no other governor after him shall have it for more than three years. One of his brothers settled in the province, but he never visited it himself. In this year we find him assisting the Laird of Swinton with his interest and purse at Edinburgh; thus answering practically and freely the apostolic expostulation (1 Cor. ix. 11), by permit- ting Swinton to reap carnal things, who had sown spiritual things to his family. The remainder of his life is not marked with many instances of public action. Much of it appears to have been passed in tranquillity, and in the bosom of his family; yet he occasionally undertook journeys to promote his private concerns, to serve his rela- tions and neighbours, or to maintain the cause of his brethren in religious profession. He was in London in 1685, and had frequent access to King James II., who had all along evinced a warm friend- ship towards him. Barclay, on the other hand, thinking James sincere in his faith, and perhaps in- fluenced a little by the flattery of a prince's favour, appears to have conceived a real regard for this misguided and imprudent monarch. Liberty of con- science having been conceded to the Friends on the accession of James II., Barclay exerted his influence to procure some parliamentary arrangement, by which they might be exempted from the harsh and ruinous prosecutions to which they were exposed, in conse- quence of their peculiar notions as to the exercise of the law. He. was again in London on this business in 1686, on which occasion he visited the seven bishops then confined in the Tower for hav- ing refused to distribute in their respective dioceses the king's declaration for liberty of conscience, and for having represented to the king the grounds of their objection to the measure. The popular opinion was in favour of the bishops; yet the former severities of some of the episcopal order against dissenters, particularly against the Friends, occasioned some reflections on them. This having come to the knowledge of the imprisoned bishops, they declared that "the Quakers had belied them, by reporting that they had been the death of some." Robert Barclay, being informed of this declaration, went to the Tower, and gave their lordships a well-substan- tiated account of some persons having been detained in prison till death by order of bishops, though they had been apprised of the danger by physicians who were not Quakers. lie, however, observed to the bishops, that it was by no means the intention of the Friends to publish such events, and thereby give the king and their other adversaries any ad- 1 Ili, father had died in 1C76, leaving him in possession of this estate. WILLIAM BARCLAY vantage against them. Barclay was in London, for the last time, in the memorable year 1688. He visited James II., and being with him near a window, the king looked out, and observed that "the wind was then fair for the Prince of Orange to come over." Robert Barclay replied, "it was hard that no expedient could be found to satisfy the people." The king declared "he would do any- thing becoming a gentleman, except parting with liberty of conscience, which he never would whilst he lived." Barclay took a final leave of the un- fortunate king, for whose disasters he was much concerned, and with whom he had been several times engaged in serious discourse. Robert Barclay "laid down the body," says Andrew Jaffray, "in the holy and honourable truth, wherein he had served it about three and twenty years, upon the 3d day of the eighth month, 1690, near the forty and second year of his age, at his own house of Urie, in Scotland, and it was laid in his own burial ground there, upon the 6th day of the same month, before many friends and other people." His character has been thus drawn by another of the amicable fraternity to which he belonged: 1 — "He was distinguished by strong mental powers, particularly by great penetration, and a sound and accurate judgment. His talents were much improved by a regular and classical education. It does not, however, appear that his superior qualifications pro- duced that elation of mind which is too often their attendant: he was meek, humble, and ready to allow to others the merit they possessed. All his passions were under the most excellent government. Two of his intimate friends, in their character of him, declare that they never knew him to be angry. He had the happiness of early perceiving the infinite superiority of religion to every other attainment; and the Divine grace enabled him to dedicate his life, and all that he possessed, to promote the cause of piety and virtue. P'or the welfare of his friends he was sincerely and warmly concerned: and he travelled and wrote much, as well as suffered cheerfully, in support of the society and the principles to which he had conscientiously attached himself. But this was not a blind and bigoted attachment. His zeal was tempered with charity; and he loved and respected goodness wherever he found it. His uncorrupted integrity and liberality of sentiment, his great abilities and suavity of disposition, gave him much interest with persons of rank and influence, and he employed it in a manner that marked the benevolence of his heart. He loved peace, and was often instrumental in settling disputes, and in producing reconciliations between contending parties. . . . In private life he was equally amiable. His conversation was cheerful, guarded, and instructive. He was a dutiful son, an affectionate and faithful husband, a tender and careful father, a kind and considerate master. Without exaggeration, it may be said, that piety and virtue were recommended by his example; and that, though the period of his life was short, he had, by the aid of divine grace, most wisely and happily improved it. He lived long enough to manifest, in an eminent degree, the temper and conduct of a Christian, and the virtues and qualifications of a true minister of the gospel." BARCLAY, William, an eminent civilian, and father of the still more celebrated author of the Argents, was descended from one of the best families in Scotland under the rank of nobility, and was LADY ANNE BARNARD. 93 1 A S/wrt Account of itu Life and Writings cf Robert Barclay, London, 1S02. bom in Aberdeenshire, in 1541. He spent his early years in the court of Queen Mary, with whom he was in high favour. After her captivity in England, disgusted with the turbulent state of his native country, which promised no advantage to a man of learning, he removed to France (15731, and began to study the law at Bourges. Having in time quali- fied himself to teach the civil law, he was appointed by the Duke of Lorrain, through the recommenda- tion of his kinsman Edmund Hay, the Jesuit, to be a professor of that science in the university of Pon- tamousson, being at the same time counsellor of state and master of requests to his princely patron. In 1581 he married Anne de Maleville, a young lady of Lorrain, by whom he had his son John, the subject of a preceding article. This youth showed tokens of genius at an early period, and was sought from his father by the Jesuits, that he might enter their society. The father, thinking proper to refuse the request, became an object of such wrath to that learned and unscrupulous fraternity, that he was compelled to abandon all his preferments, and seek refuge in England. This was in 1603, just at the time when his native sovereign had acceded to the throne of England. James I. offered him a pension, and a place in his councils, on condition that he would embrace the Protectant faith; but though indignant at the intrigues of the Jesuits, he would not desert their religion. In 1604 he returned to France, and became professor of civil law at Angers, where he taught for a considerable time with high reputation. It is said that he entertained a very high sense of the dignity of his office. He used to "go to school every day, attended by a servant who went before him, himself having a rich robe lined with ermine, the train of which was supported by- two servants, and his son upon his right hand; ami there hung about his neck a great chain of gold, with a medal of gold with his own picture." Such was, in those days, the pomp and circumstance of the profession of civil law. He did not long enjoy this situation, dying towards the close of 1605. lie is allowed to have been very learned, not only in the civil and canon law, but in the classical languages, and in ecclesiastical history. But his prejudices were of so violent a nature as to ob>cure both his genius and erudition. He zealously maintained the absolute power of monarchs, and had an illiberal antipathy to the Protestant religion. His works are: 1. .-/ Controversial Treatise on the Royal J against Buchanan and other King-killers, Paris, 1600; 2. .-/ Treatise on the Potcer cf the Pope, lie has no Right of Pule over Secular Princes, 1609: 3. A Commentary on the Title of the Pandects de Rebis Credit is, (kc. ; 4. .-/ Commentary en Tact::/ Life of A gr kola. All these works, as well as their titles, are in Latin. BARNARD. Lady Anne. This lady, who by a single song has immortalized her name, v. eldest daughter of the fifth Earl cf Ralcarres. She was born on the Sth of December. 1750. and circumstances that were grievously subversive ol a cherished prediction. "There had long exi-ted a prophecy that the first child of the last descen ai ! : the house of Balcarres was to restore the fan ..;■ >: Stuart to those hereditary rights which th of James had deprived them of. The J. seemed to have gained new life on the occa- n; the wizards and witches of the party ha : : .11 book.-; the devil had mentioned it t ■ : his particular friends; old ladies ha i rea 1 it li m the grounds of their coffee, — no wor 1 r i! the event was welcomed by the grasp of expiring '■■'[-■ 94 LADY ANNE BARNARD. In due course of time the partizans of the Pretender, the soothsayers, wizards, witches, the bards, fortune- tellers, and old ladies, were all in a group, amazed, disconcerted, and enraged to learn that Lady Balcarres was brought to bed of a daughter after all, — absol- utely but a daughter." Such is her own amusing account of the circumstances under which she was ushered into the world. "That child," she adds, "was the Anne Lindsay who now addresses you, and in the arms of my nurse I promised to be a little heiress, perhaps a heroine worthy of having my name posted on the front of a novel." After an account of her infancy and youth written in the same lively style, Lady Anne Lindsay (for this was her maiden name) gives an account of the education by which her mind was formed. Not the least of her intellectual advantages was the society with which she was brought in contact, in her occa- sional visits to Edinburgh; and among the dis- tinguished of the day whom she met in that city, may be mentioned, Henry Mackenzie, author of The Man of Feeling, Lord Monboddo, and in 1773 Dr. Johnson, when he visited the northern metropolis. One part of her self-education at her country-house in Fifeshire is too interesting to be omitted: — "Re- siding," she says, "in the solitude of the country, without other sources of entertainment than what I could draw from myself, I used to mount up to my little closet in the high winding staircase, which commanded the sea, the lake, the rock, the birds, the beach, — and, with my pen in my hand, and a few envelopes of old letters (which too often vanished afterwards), scribble away poetically and in prose, till I made myself an artificial happiness, which did very well pour passer le temps, though far better would my attempts have been had I had Margaret's judgment to correct them." The fruits of such training was the song of Auld Robin Gray, which Lady Anne wrote in the beginning of 1772, when she was twenty-one years old. As every circumstance connected with such a matchless lyric is interesting, and as no account can be more interesting than that of the authoress, we give it in her own words: — "Robin Gray, so called from its being the name of the old herdsman at Balcarres, was born soon after the close of 1 771. My sister Margaret had married, and accompanied her husband to London; I was melancholy, and endeavoured to amuse myself by attempting a few poetical trifles. There was an ancient Scotch melody of which I was passionately fond, — Sophy Johnston, who lived before your day, used to sing it to us at Balcarres; I longed to sing old Sophy's air to different words, and to give to its plaintive tones some little history of virtuous distress in humble life, such as might suit it. While attempting to effect this in my closet, I called to my little sister, now Lady Hardwicke, who was the only person near me — 'I have been writing a ballad, my dear; 1 am oppressing my heroine with many misfortunes: I have already sent her Jamie to sea, and broken her father's arm, and made her mother fall sick, and given her auld Robin (bay for a lover, but I wish to load her with a fifth sorrow in the four lines, poor thing! help me to one, I pray.' — 'Steal the cow, sister Anne,' said the little Eliza- beth. The cow was immediately lifted by me, and the song completed. At our fireside, amongst our neighbours, Auld Robin Gray was always called for; I was pleased with the approbation it met with, but such was my dread of being suspected of writing anything, perceiving the shyness it created in those who could write nothing, that I carefully kept my own secret. . . . Meantime, little as this matter seems to have been worthy of dispute, it afterwards became almost a party question between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries: Robin Gray was either a very, very ancient ballad, composed perhaps by- David Rizzio, and a great curiosity; or a very, very modern matter, and no curiosity at all. I was per- secuted to confess whether I had written it, or if not, where I had got it. Old Sophy kept my counsel, and I kept my own, in spite of the gratification of seeing a reward of twenty guineas offered in the newspapers to the person who should ascertain the point past a doubt, and the still more flattering circumstance of a visit from Mr. J , secretary to the Antiquarian Society, who endeavoured to entrap the truth from me in a manner I took amiss. Had he asked me the question obligingly, I should have told him the fact distinctly, but confidentially; the annoyance, however, of this important ambassador from the antiquaries was amply repaid to me by the noble exhibition of the ballet of Auld Robin Gra^s Courtship, as performed by dancing do^s under my windows: — it proved its popularity from the highest to the lowest, and gave me pleasure while I hugged myself in my obscurity." In the reticence of Lady Anne, that could keep the fact of her authorship conceded after her ballad had become the admired of all classes, and been translated into almost every European language, there was a power of secretiveness more remarkable than the talent by which such beautiful verses were created. It was only in 1823, fifty-two years after the song had been composed, that she broke silence, and confessed herself the author of the song. The occasion also was worthy of the acknowledgment. In that year, when the tale of the Pirate appeared, the author of Waverlcy compared the condition of Minna to that of Jeannie Gray, "the village-heroine in Lady Anne Lindsay's beautiful ballad:" — "Nae langer she wept, her tears were a' spent, IJespair it was come, and she thought it content: She thought it content — but her cheek it grew pale, And she drooped like a snow-drop broke down by the hail." This detection by the highest literary authority of the day, convinced Lady Anne that concealment was no longer possible; and in a letter to Sir Walter she wrote the confession from which we have quoted. It was not until many years after Auld Robin Gray was written, that a second part was added to it. It was produced also to gratify the wishes of her mother the Countess of Balcarres, who had often said to her, "Annie, I wish you would tell me how that unlucky business of Jeanie and Jamie ended." Lady Anne had also got a hint for the development of the plot, of which she now availed herself. On hearing the song as it first appeared, the laird of Dalzell burst out wrathfully with, "Oh the villain ! oh the auld rascal ! / ken wha stealt the poor lassie's coo — it was Auld Robin Gray himsel !" In the second part therefore, "Auld Rob" is seized with remorse at the sight of his broken-hearted wife's repining; takes to his bed, and after confessing that he had stolen the cow for the purpose of furthering his suit, he dies, leaving Jamie his sole heir, and recommend- ing that the pair should be married — an advice which they are not slow to follow. But like all such additions, the second part was a failure. The sequel was an abrupt intrusion upon the pleasing poetical sadness in which the first part left the hearers, and they were in no mood to be defrauded of such a sentimental luxury. The voice of the singer and the feelings of the audience were too much touched by the first part, to endure the details of the second. Her sister Margaret, who had married very early and become a widow, was joined in London by Lad}- LADY ANNE BARNARD Anne. The beauty and accomplishments of the two ladies procured them a choice society and many admirers, and the hand of Anne was sought in marriage by several men of the first distinction in the country. The house of the attractive sisters in London is described by Lord Balcarres, their brother, as having become "the meeting-place of great and good characters, literary and political ;" and the most distinguished of these, Burke, Sheridan, Windham, and Dundas, confirm the assertion. The Prince of Wales was also their familiar guest and friend, and his attachment to Lady Anne ended only with his life. She remained single until 1793, when she gave her hand to Andrew Barnard, Esq., the son of the Bishop of Limerick, an accomplished but not wealthy gentleman, and younger than herself, whom she accompanied to the Cape of Good Hope, in con- sequence of his appointment as colonial secretary under Lord Macartney. The journals of her resi- dence at the Cape, and of her excursions into the interior of the country, illustrated with drawings and sketches of the scenes described, are still pre- served among the family manuscripts. When in South Africa, she had always a strong wish to visit Australia, then only known as "Botany Bay," "not," she humorously adds, "from a longing to commit a crime, but from a desire to rejoice with the angels over repenting sinners. If one reformed rogue gives to beatified spirits as much joy as the good conduct of ninety-nine righteous persons, what a feeling must be created by such a group!" Like other amiable enthusiasts of the period, she thought that Botany Bay was a blessed reformatory, instead of the whole- sale Newgate which it in reality was. "But it would appear," she adds, "so strange a measure to go there from choice, that I believe it would be necessary to commit some peccadillo as an apology to my relations for going at all." Her desire for this trip would probably have been fulfilled, as her husband shared in the wish, and intended on his return to England to have taken her home by that very circuitous route; but the peace of 1S02 com- pelled Mr. Barnard to remain behind at the Cape, to settle colonial business with the Dutch, while Lady Anne went to England to procure a situation for her husband under government, on his return — an application, however, which was unsuccessful. By the death of Mr. Barnard at the Cape in 1807, Lady Anne was left a childless widow, and she again took up her residence with her sister Margaret, in Berkeley Square, London, until the latter was married for the second time in 1812 to Sir Janus Burgess. After this period she continued her honoured course in London, beloved by its choicest society, and maintaining at the age of threescore and ten, and even beyond it, that cheerfulness and con- versational power which had made her through her whole life the charm of her numerous acquaintances. An amusing proof of this one day occurred when she was entertaining a party of her friends at dinner. Some difficulty had occurred in the kitchen arrange- ments, on which account an old servant, who knew the inexhaustible mental resources of her mistress, glided to her behind her chair, and whispered in her ear. "My lady, you must tell another story — the second course won't be ready for five minutes'" Of the strong and abiding friendships she created in the hearts of others, a proof was given in that of the Prince of Wales (afterwards George IV.), who, on the death of her husband, wrote to her a letter of sympathy, of itself sufficient to redeem his character from the prevailing charge of selfishness. In his last illness he also sent for her. and after speaking to her affectionately, he said, "Slater .Anne (the title with ANDREW BARTON. 95 which he usually addressed her), I wished to see you, to tell you that I love you, and wish you to accept this golden chain for my sake — I may never see you again." The chief literary occupation of her old age was in writing reminiscences of the Lindsays, to add to the family history— a task which her father, Larl James, had commenced, and which he wished his children to continue. "It was a maxim of my father's," she said, "that the person who ne^lecN t<> leave some trace of his mind behind him, according to his capacity, fails not only in his duty to society, but in gratitude to the Author of his being, and may- be said to have existed in vain. 'Every man,' said he, 'has felt or thought, invented or observed: alittle of that genius which we receive from nature, or a little of that experience which we buy in our walk through life, if bequeathed to the community, would ultimately become a collection to do honour to the family where such records were preserved.'" I knee the large and valuable additions which she made to the Lives of the Lindsays, and the copious re- miniscences of a long life which constitute the princi- pal charm of that interesting work. Although she must have written much poetry as well as prose, her characteristic shyness where her verses were in question have made her productions of this kind unknown — with the exception of Atild Robin Gray, which of itself is sufficient to establish her lasting fame as a poetess. Lady Anne Barnard died on May 6th, 1825, in the seventy-fourth year of her age. BARTON, Andrew, High Admiral of Scotland. The fifteenth century was the great era of mari- time adventure and discovery; and in these it might have been expected that Scotland would have taken her full share. The troubled state of the country, however, and the poverty of its sovereigns, prevented the realization of such a hope. There was no royal navy, and such ships as were to be found in the Scottish service were merchant vessels, and the property of private individuals. Still, there was no lack of stout hardy sailors and skilful commanders; and although the poverty of Scotland was unable to furnish means for remote and uncertain voyages of discovery, the same cause made them eager to enjoy the advantages of traffic with those countries that were already known. Another cause was the long peace with England during the reign of Henry VII., so that those daring spirits who could no longer find occupation in fight or foray by land, were fain to have recourse to the dangers of another element. The merchant, also, who embarked with his own cargo, was obliged to know something more than the gainful craft of a mere trader. He was captain as well as proprietor, and had to add the science of navigation and the art of warfare on sea, to that of skilful bargaining on shore, and thus, in every variety of ways, his intellectual powers were tried and per- fected. This was an occupation well fitted I Scottish mind, in which it consequently became so pre-eminent, that during the reigns of James 111. and James IV., it seemed a doubtful questii n whether Scotland or England was to hear tin '•meteor flag" of the island; and of the merchant captains of this period, the most distinguishe 1 we: . Sir Andrew Wood, of Largo; Sir Alexander Math; - son; William Merrimonth, of I.cith, who, ; naval skill, was called the "king ft! ; .'• '■ the Barti ms. This barton family, which f r two generati :> produced naval comman lers oi great cc' ."■. fir-t appeared in Scottish hi.-tory in 1476. This consequence of John Bart n, ' An !rew, having been plundered, and, it has been added. ANDREW BARTON. murdered, by the Portuguese, who at that period were all-prevalent upon the ocean. The unfortunate mariner, however, had three sons, the eldest of whom was Andrew, all brought up from boyhood in his own profession, and not likely to allow their father's death to pass unquestioned. Andrew accord- ingly instituted a trial in Flanders, where the murder was perpetrated, and obtained a verdict in his favour; but the Portuguese refusing to pay the awarded penalty, the Bartons applied to their own sovereign for redress. James accordingly sent a herald to the King of Portugal; but this application having also been in vain, he granted to the Bartons letters of reprisal, by which they were allowed to indemnify themselves by the strong hand upon the ships of the Portuguese. And such a commission was not allowed to lie idle. The Bartons immediately threw themselves into the track of the richly-laden carracks and argosies of Portugal in their homeward way from India and South America; and such was their success, that they not only soon indemnified them- selves for their losses, but won a high reputation for naval skill and valour. Among the rich Indian spoil that was brought home on this occasion, were several Hindoo and negro captives, whose ebony colour and strange features astounded, and also alarmed, the simple people of Scotland. James IV. turned these singular visitants to account, by making them play the part of Ethiopian queens and African sorcerers in the masques and pageants of his court. This was in itself a trifle, but it gave a high idea of the growing naval importance of Scotland, when it could produce such spectacles as even England, with all its superior wealth, power, and refinement, was unable to furnish. It was not merely in such expeditions which had personal profit or revenge for their object that the Bartons were exclusively employed; for they were in the service of a master (James IV.) who was an enthusiast in naval affairs, and who more than all his predecessors understood the necessity of a fleet as the right arm of a British sovereign. This was especially the case in his attempts to subjugate the Scottish isles, that for centuries had persisted in re- bellion under independent kinglings of their own, and in every national difficulty had been wont to invade the mainland, and sweep the adjacent dis- tricts with fire and sword. For the purpose of re- ducing them to complete obedience, James not only led against them an army in person, but employed John Barton, one of the three brothers, to conduct a fleet, and invade them by sea. The use of ships in such a kind of warfare was soon apparent: the islanders retreated from the royal army, as hereto- fore, in their galleys, and took refuge among their iron-bound coasts, but found these no longer places of safety when their fastnesses were assailed from the sea, and their strong castles bombarded. The chiefs, therefore, yielded themselves to the royal authority, and from thenceforth lived in most unwonted sub- mission. While thus the Scottish flag waved over those islands that had hitherto been the strongholds of rebellion, another of the Bartons was employed to vindicate it-> dignity abroad and among foreigners. This was Andrew, who for some time had held with his brothers the chief direction of maritime affairs in Scotland, and been employed in the formation of a royal navy, as well as in cruises against the rich carracks of Portugal. The Hollanders, in the true spirit of piracy by which the maritime communities of Europe were at this time inspired, had attacked a small fleet of Scottish merchant vessels, and not only plundered them, but murdered the crews, and thrown their bodies into the sea. This outrage, from a people with whom the Scots were at peace, was not to be tolerated, and Andrew Barton was sent with a squadron to chastise the offenders. And this he did with a merciless severity that reminds us of the "Douglas Larder." He captured many of the piratical ships, and not only put their crews to death, but barrelled their heads in the empty casks which he found in the vessels, and sent them home to his sovereign, to prove how well he had discharged his duty. The time had now arrived, however, when Andrew Barton, after having made so many suc- cessful cruises, was to fall upon the deck where he had so often stood a conqueror. His death, also, strangely enough, was mainly owing to the tortuous intrigues of a pontiff, about whom, it is probable, he had heard little, and cared still less. Julius II. having formed designs of political self- aggrandizement which a war between France and England would have prevented, was anxious to find the latter sufficient occupation at home, with its turbulent neighbours, the Scots. Portuguese en- voys, therefore, at the English court represented to Henry VIII. the whole family of the Bartons as pirates, who indiscriminately plundered the ships of every country; and they charged Andrew, in par- ticular, with these offences, and represented how desirable it would be if the English seas could be rid of his presence. Henry listened to these sugges- tions, and, with his wonted impetuosity, assented to their fulfilment, although a war with Scotland was at that time the least desirable event that could have befallen him. It has also been alleged by English writers, that Andrew Barton, in his war against the Portuguese, had not been over-scrupulous in con- fining himself to his letters of reprisal, but had also over-hauled and pillaged English vessels, under the pretext that they had Portuguese goods on board. Such, at least, was generally believed in England; and the Earl of Surrey, to whom the naval affairs of the kingdom chiefly belonged, is declared to have sworn that the narrow seas should no longer be thus infested, while his estate could furnish a ship or his family a son to command it. The threat of Surrey was not an idle one. He fitted out two men-of-war, one of them the largest in the English navy, and sent them under the com- mand of his sons, Lord Thomas Howard, and Sir Edward Howard, afterwards lord high-admiral, to find and encounter the terrible Scottish seaman. They had not long to seek, for in the Downs they were apprized of his neighbourhood by the captain of a merchant vessel which he had plundered on the preceding day. Barton had just returned from a cruise against the Portuguese, with two ships, one the Lion, which himself commanded, and the other a small armed pinnace. When the Howards ap- proached, they hoisted no war signal, but merely put up a willow-wand on their masts, as if they were peaceful traders; but when Andrew Barton approached, they hoisted their national flag, and fired a broadside into his vessel. On finding that lie had enemies to deal with, although they were of superior force, he fearlessly advanced to the encounter. Distinguished by his rich dress, his splendid armour of proof, and the gold chain around his neck, to which was attached a whistle of the same metal, the emblem of his office as high admiral of Scotland, he took his stand upon the highest part of the deck, and encouraged his men to fight bravely. The battle commenced, and continued on both sides with the utmost desperation. One manoeuvre of Scottish naval warfare which Barton used, was derived from an old Roman practice used against ANDREW BARTON JAMES BASSANTIN. 97 the Carthaginians, although he had, perhaps, never read their history; this was, to drop large weights or beams from the yard-arms of his vessel into that of the enemy, and thus sink it while the two ships were locked together; but, to accomplish this feat, it was necessary for a man to go aloft to let the weight fall. The English commander, apprised of this, had appointed the best archer of his crew to keep watch upon the movement, and shoot every man who attempted to go aloft for the purpose. The archer had already brought down two Scottish seamen who had successively ventured to ascend, when Andrew Barton, seeing the danger, resolved to make the attempt himself. As he ascended the mast for this purpose, Lord Howard cried to his archer, "Shoot, villain, and shoot true, on peril of thy life." "An' I were to die for it," replied the man despondingly, "I have but two arrows left." These, however, he used with his utmost strength and skill. The first shaft bounded from Barton's coat of proof, but the second entered the crevice of his armour, as he stretched up his hand in the act of climbing the mast, and inflicted a mortal wound through the arm-pit. He descended as if unhurt, and exclaimed, "Fight on, my merry men; I am but slightly wounded, and will rest me awhile, but will soon join you again; in the meantime, stand you fast by the cross of Saint Andrew!" He then blew his whistle during the combat, to encourage his followers, and continued to sound it as long as life remained. After his death the conflict termi- nated in the capture of the Lion, and also the pinnace, called the Jenny Pirwen, which were brought in triumph into the Thames. The Lion was afterwards adopted into the English navy, and was the second largest ship in the service, the Great Henry, the first vessel which the English had expressly con- structed for war, being the largest. Such was the end of Andrew Barton, a bright name in the early naval history of Scotland. While his death was felt as a great national calamity, it was particularly affecting to James IV., whose nautical studies he had directed, and whose infant navy he had made so distinguished among the European maritime powers. Rothesay herald was instantly despatched to London, to complain of this breach of peace, and demand redress; but to this appeal Henry VIII. arrogantly replied, that Barton was a pirate, and that the fate of pirates ought never to be a subject of contention between princes. Here, however, the matter was not to rest. Robert Barton, one of Andrew's brothers, was immediately furnished with letters of reprisal against the English; and thus commissioned, he swept the narrow seas so effectually, that he soon returned to Leith with thirteen English prizes. War by sea between England and Scotland was soon followed by war by land, and in the letter of remonstrance and defiance to Henry VIII., with which James preceded the invasion of England, the unjust slaughter of Andrew Barton, and the capture of his ships, were stated among the principal grievances for which redress was thus sought. Even when battle was at hand, also, Lord Thomas Howard sent a message to the Scottish king, boasting of his share in the death of Barton, whom he persisted in calling a pirate, and adding, that he was ready to justify the deed in the vanguard, where his command lay, and where he meant to show as little mercy as he expected to receive. And then succeeded the battle of Hodden, in whieh James and t e best of the Scottish nobility fell; and after Flodden, a loss occurred which Barton would rather have died than witnessed. This was the utter extinction of the Scottish fleet, which was VOL. I. allowed to lie rotting in the harbours of France, or to be trucked away in inglorious sale, like common firewood. From that period, Scotland so com- pletely ceased to be a naval power, that even at the time of the union she not only had no war vessels whatever, but scarcely any merchant ships — the few that lay in her ports being chiefly the property of the traders of Holland; — and full three centuries have to elapse before we find another distinguished Scottish seaman in the naval history of Great Britain. BASSANTIN, or BASSANTOUN, Jamks, as- tronomer and mathematician, was the son of the laird of Bassintin, in Berwickshire, and probably born in the early part of the sixteenth century. Being sent to study at the university of Glasgow, he applied himself almost exclusively to mathematics, to the neglect of languages and philosophy, which were then the most common study. In order to prosecute mathematics more effectually than it was possible to do in his own country, he went abroad, and travelled through the Netherlands, Switzerland, Italy, and Germany; fixing himself at last in France, where for a considerable time he taught his favourite science with high reputation in the university of Paris. In that age, the study of astronomy was inseparable from astrology, and Bassantin became a celebrated proficient in this pretended science, which was then highly cultivated in France, insomuch that it entered more or less into almost all public affairs, and neady every court in Europe had its astrologer. Bassantin, besides his attainments in astrology, understood the laws of the heavens to an extent which excited the wonder of the age — especially when it was considered that he had scarcely any knowledge of the Greek or Latin languages, in which all that was formerly known of this science had been embodied. But, as may be easily conceived, astronomy was as yet a most im- perfect science; the Copernican system, which forms the groundwork of modern astronomy, was not yet discovered or acknowledged; and all that was really known had in time become so inextricably associated with the dreams of astrology, as to be entitled to little respect. Bassantin returned to his native country in 1562, and in passing through England met with Sir Robert Melville of Mordecairny, who was then engaged in a diplomatic mission from Mary to Elizabeth, for the purpose of bringing about a meeting between the two queens. A curious account of this rencontre is preserved by Sir James Melville in his memoirs, and, as it is highly illustrative of the character and pretensions of Bassantin, we shall lay it before the reader. "Ane Bassantin, a Scottis man, that had been travelit, and was learnit in hich scyences, cam to him [Sir Robert Melville] and said, 'Gud gentilman, I hear sa gud report of you that I love you hartly, and therefore canot forbear to shaw you, how all your upricht dealing and your hone>t travell will be in vain, where ye believe to obtein a weall for our quen at the Quen of Englandis handis. You bot tyne your tyme; for, fust, they will never meit togither, and next, there will nevir be bot discembling and secret hattrent for a whyle, and at length captivity and utter wrak for our quen by England. ' My brother's answer again was, that he lyked not to heir of sic devilisch newes, nor yet wal . he credit them in any sort, as false, ungodly, and unlawfull for Christians to medle them with. Bassantin answered again, "Gud Mester Melvill, tak not that hard opinion of me; I am a Christian of your religion, and fears God, and purposes never to cast myself in any of the unlawful art;s that ye mean of, bot sa far as Melauthon, wha wa^ a godiy 9 8 JOHN BASSOL. theologue, has declared and written anent the naturall scyences, that are lawfull and daily red in dyvers Christian "universities; in the quhilkis, as in all othir artis, God geves to some less, to some mair and clearer knawledge than till others; be the quhilk knawledge I have also that at length, that the king- dom of England sail of rycht fall to the crown of Scotland, and that ther are some born at this instant that sail bruik lands and heritages in England. Bot alace it will cost many their lyves, and many bludy battailes wilbe fouchten first, or [ere] it tak a sattled effect; and be my knawledge,' said he, 'the Spani- ards will be helpers, and will tak a part to them- selves for ther labours, quhilk they wilbe laith to leve again.'" If the report of this conference be quite faithful, we must certainly do Bassantin the justice to say, that the most material part of his prophecy came to pass; though it might be easy for him to see that, as the sovereign of Scotland was heiress-presumptive to the crown of England, she or her heirs had a near prospect of succeeding. How Bassantin spent his time in Scotland does not appear; but, as a good Protestant, he became a warm sup- porter of the Earl of Murray, then struggling for the ascendency. He died in 1568. His works are — I. A System 0/ Astronomy, published for the third time in 1593, by John Torncesius. 2. A Treatise of the Astrolabe, published at Lyons in 1555, and reprinted at Paris in 161 7. 3. A Pamphlet on the Calculation of Nativities. 4. A Treatise on Arith- metic. 5. Music on the Principles of the Platonists. 6. On Mathematics in General. It is understood that, in the composition of these works, he required considerable literary assistance, being only skilled in his own language, which was never then made the vehicle of scientific discussion. BASSOL, John, a distinguished disciple of the famous Duns Scotus, is stated by Mackenzie to have been born in the reign of Alexander III. He studied under Duns at Oxford, and with him, in 1 304, re- moved to Paris, where he resided some time in the university, and in 13 13 entered the order of the Minorites. After this he was sent by the general of his order to Rheims, where he applied himself to the study of medicine, and taught philosophy for seven or eight years. In 1322 he removed to Mechlin in Brabant, and after teaching theology in that city for five and twenty years, died in 1347. Bassol's only work was one entitled Commentaria sen Lectures in Quatuor Libros Sentenliarum, to which were attached some miscellaneous papers on philosophy and medicine. The book was published in folio at Paris, in 1 51 7. Bassol was known by the title Doctor Ordinatissimus, or the Most Methodical Doctor, on account of the clear and accurate method in which he lectured and composed. The fashion of giving such titles to the great masters of the schools was then in its prime. Thus, Duns Scotus himself was styled Doctor Subtilis, or the Subtle Doctor. St. Francis of Assis was called the Seraphic Doctor; Alexander Hales, the Irrefragable Doctor; Thomas Aquinas, the Angelical Doctor; Hendricus Bonicollius, the Solemn Doctor; Richard Middleton, the Solid Doctor; Francis Mayron, the Acute Doctor; Durandus a S. Portiano, the Most Resolute Doctor; Thomas Bredwardin, the Profound Doctor; Joannes Ruysbrokius, the Divine Doctor, and so forth; the title being in every ca^e founded upon some extrava- gant conception of the merit of the particular in- dividual, adopted by his contemporaries and disciples. In this extraordinary class of literati John Bassol, as implied by his soubriquet, shines conspicuous for order and method; yet we are told that his works contain most of the faults which are generally laid to the charge of the schoolmen. The chief of these is an irrational devotion to the philosophy of Aristotle, as expounded by Thomas Aquinas. In the early ages of modern philosophy, this most splendid exer- tion of the human mind was believed to be irrecon- cilable with the Christian doctrines; and at the very time when the Angelical Doctor wrote his commen- tary, it stood prohibited by a decree of Pope Gregory IX. The illustrious Thomas not only restored Aris- totle to favour, but inspired his followers with an admiration of his precepts, which, as already men- tioned, was not rational. Not less was their admira- tion of the "angelical" commentator, to whom it was long the fashion among them to offer an incense little short of blasphemy. A commentator upon an original work of Thomas Aquinas endeavours, in a prefatory discourse, to prove, in so many chapters, that he wrote his books not without the special infusion of the Spirit of God Almighty; that, in writing them, he received many things by revelation; and that Christ had given anticipatory testimonv to his writings. By way of bringing the works of St. Thomas into direct comparison with the Holy Scriptures, the same writer remarks, "that, as in the first general councils of the church, it was common to have the Bible unfolded upon the altar, so, in the last general council (that of Trent), St. Thomas' Sum was placed beside the Bible, as an inferior rule of Christian doctrine." Peter Labbe, a learned Jesuit, with scarcely less daring flattery, styles St. Thomas an angel, and says that, as he learned many things from the angels, so he taught the angels some things; that St. Thomas had said what St. Paul was not permitted to utter; and that he speaks of God as if he had seen him, and of Christ as if he had been his voice. One might almost suppose that these learned gentlemen, disregarding the sentiment after- wards embodied by Gray, that flattery soothes not the cold ear of death, endeavoured by their praises to make interest with the "angelical" shade, not doubting that he was able to obtain for them a larger share of paradise than they could otherwise hope for. In the words of the author of the Reflections on Learning, "the sainted Thomas, if capable of hear- ing these inordinate flatteries, must have blushed to receive them." Bassol was also characterized, in common with all the rest of the schoolmen, by a ridiculous nicety in starting questions and objections. Overlooking the great moral aim of what they were expounding, he and his fellows lost themselves in minute and subtle inquiries after physical exactness, started at every straw which lay upon their path, and measured the powers of the mind by grains and scruples. It must be acknowledged, in favour of this singular class of men, that they improved natural reason to a great height, and that much of what is most admired in modern philosophy is only borrowed from them. At the same time, their curiosity in raising and prosecut- ing frivolous objections to the Christian system is to be regretted as the source of much scepticism and irreligion. To many of their arguments, ridicule only is due; and it would perhaps be impossible for the gravest to restrain a smile at the illustrissimo mentioned by Cardan, one of whose arguments was declared to be enough to puzzle all posterity, and who himself wept in his old age because he had become unable to understand his own books. The works of Bassol have been long forgotten, like those of his brethren; but it is not too much to say regarding this great man of a former day, that the same powers of mind which he spent upon the endless intricacies of the school philosophy, would ANDREW BAXTER JAMES BAYNE. 99 certainly, in another age and sphere, have tended to the permanent advantage of his fellow-creatures. He was so much admired by his illustrious preceptor, that that great man used to say, "If only Joannes Bassiolis be present, I have a sufficient auditory." BAXTER, Andrew, an ingenious moral and natural philosopher, was the son of a merchant in Old Aberdeen, and of Mrs. Elizabeth Eraser, a lady connected with some of the considerable families of that name in the north of Scotland. He was born at Old Aberdeen, in 1686 or 1687, and educated at the King's College, in his native city. His employ- ment in early life was that of a preceptor to young gentlemen; and among others of his pupils were Lord Gray, Lord Blantyre, and Mr. Hay of Drum- melzier. In 1723, while resident at Dunse Castle, as preceptor to the last-mentioned gentleman, he is known, from letters which passed between him and Henry Home, afterwards Lord Kaimes, to have been deeply engaged in both physical and meta- physical disquisitions. As Mr. Home's paternal seat of Kaimes was situated within a few miles of Dunse Castle, the similarity of their pursuits appears to have brought them into an intimate friendship and correspondence. This, however, was soon after- wards broken off. Mr. Home, who was a mere novice in physics, contended with Mr. Baxter that motion was necessarily the result of a succession of causes. The latter endeavoured, at first with much patience and good temper, to point out the error of this argument; but, teased at length with what he conceived to be sophistry purposely employed by his antagonist to show his ingenuity in throwing doubts on principles to which he himself annexed the greatest importance, and on which he had founded what he believed to be a demonstration of those doctrines most material to the happiness of mankind, he finally interrupted the correspondence, saying, "I shall return you all your letters; mine, if not already destroyed, you may likewise return; we shall burn them and our philosophical heats together." About this time, Mr. Baxter married Alice Mabane, daughter of a respectable clergyman in Berwickshire. A few years afterwards he published his great work, entitled An Inquiry into the Nature of the Human Soul, wherein its Immateriality is evinced from the Principles of Reaso?i and Philosophy. This work was originally without date; but a second edition appeared in 1737, and a third in 1745. It has been characterized in the highest terms of panegyric by Bishop Warburton. "He who would see," says this eminent prelate, "the justest and precisest notions of God and the soul, may read this book; one of the most finished of the kind, in my humble opinion, that the present times, greatly advanced in true philosophy, have produced." The object of the treatise is to prove the immateriality, and conse- quently the immortality, of the soul, from the acknow- ledged principle of the vis iuertiiv of matter. His argument, according to the learned Lord Wood- houselee, is as follows: "There is a resistance to any change of its present state, either of rest or motion, essential to matter, which is inconsistent with its possessing any active power. Those, therefore, which have been called the natural powers of matter, as gravity, attraction, elasticity, repulsion, are not powers implanted in matter, or possible to be made inherent in it. but are impulses or forces impressed upon it a!> extra. The consequence of the want of active power in matter is. that all those effects com- monly ascribed to its active powers must be produced upon it by an immaterial being. Hence we discover the necessity for the agency of a constant and universal Providence in the material world, who is Gon; and hence we must admit the necessity of an immaterial mover in all spontaneous motions, which is the soul; for that which can arbitrarily effect a change in the present state of matter, cannot be matter itself, which resists all change of its present state: and since this change is effected by willing, that thing which wills in us is not matter, but an immaterial substance. From these fundamental propositions, the author deduces, as consequences, the necessary immortality of the soul, as being a simple uncompounded substance, and thence incapable of decay, and its capacity of existing, and being conscious, when separated from the body." In 1741, leaving his family in Berwick, he went abroad with his pupil Mr. Hay, and resided for several years at Utrecht. In the course of various excursions which he made through Holland, France, and Germany, he was generally well received by the literati. He returned to Scotland in 1747, and, till his death, in 1750, resided constantly at Whittingham, in East Lothian, a seat of his pupil Mr. Hay. His latter works were A fat ho, sive Cosmotheoria puerilis, Dialogus, a piece designed for the use of his pupil ; and An Appendix to his Inquiry into the Nature of the Human Soul, wherein he endeavoured to remove some difficulties which had been started against his notions of the vis inertia: of matter by Maclaurin, in his Account of Sir Isaac Newton's Philosophical Dis- coveries. In 1779 the Rev. Dr. Duncan of South Warnborough published The Evidence of Reason in proof of the Immortality of the Soul, independent on the more abstruse inquiry into the nature of matter and spirit — collected from the MSS. of the late Mr. Baxter. The learning and abilities of Mr. Baxter are sufficiently displayed in his writings, which, however, were of more note in the literary world during his own time than now. He was very studious, and sometimes sat up whole nights reading and writing. His temper was cheerful; he was a friend to innocent merriment, and of a disposition truly benevolent. In conversation he was modest, and not apt to make much show of the extensive knowledge he possessed. In the discharge of the several social and relative duties of life, his conduct was exemplary. He had the most reverential sentiments of the Deity, of whose presence and immediate support he had always a strong impression upon his mind. He paid a strict attention to economy, though he dressed elegantly, and was not parsimonious in his other expenses. It is known also that there were several occasions on which he acted with remarkable disin- terestedness; and so far was he from courting prefer- ment, that he repeatedly declined offers of that kind that were made to him, on the condition of his taking orders in the Church of England. The French. German, and Dutch languages were spoken by him with much ease, and the Italian tolerably; and he read and wrote them all, together with the Spanish. His friends and correspondents were numerous and respectable; among them are particularly mentioned Mr. Pointz, preceptor to the Duke of Cumberland, and Bishop Warburton. BAYJME, or BAJXE. James, A.M., a divine of some note, was the son of the Rev. Mr. Payne. minister of Bonhill in Dumbartonshire, and was born in 17 10. His education, commenced at the parish school, was completed at the university ot Glasgow, and in due time he became a licensed preacher of the Established Church of So ' In consequence of the respectability of his father, and his own talents as a ] readier, he was presented bv the Duke of Montrose to the church of Killearn, JAMES BAYNE DAVID BEATON. the parish adjoining that in which his father had long ministered the gospel, and memorable as the birthplace of Buchanan. In this sequestered and tranquil scene he spent many years, which he often referred to in after-life as the happiest he had ever known. He here married Miss Potter, daughter of Dr. Michael Potter, professor of divinity in the Glasgow university, by whom he had a large family. His son, the Rev. James Bayne, was licensed in the Scottish Establishment, but afterwards received episcopal ordination, and died in the exercise of that profession of faith at Alloa. The reputation of Mr. Bayne as a preacher soon travelled far beyond the rural scene to which his ministrations were confined. His people, in allusion to the musical sweetness of his voice, honoured him with the poetical epithet of "the swan of the west." He was appointed to a collegiate charge in the High Church of Paisley, where his partner in duty was the celebrated Mr. Wotherspoon, afterwards presi- dent of the Nassau Hall College, Princetown, New Jersey. The two colleagues, however, did not co- operate harmoniously, although both enjoyed a high degree of popularity. Mr. Bayne displayed great public spirit during his connection with the Estab- lished Church, defending her spiritual liberties and independence in the church courts, and offering a determined opposition to the policy of the moderate or ruling party. The deposition of Mr. Thomas Gillespie of Carnock, the founder of the Relief church, made a powerful impression on his mind, and undoubtedly had a strong influence in inducing him to resign his pastoral charge in Paisley. But the immediate cause of that resolution was a keen dispute which took place in the kirk-session of his parish, respecting the appointment of a session-clerk. The session contested the right of appointment with the town-council; the whole community took an in- terest in the dispute; and the case came at last to be litigated in the court of session, which decided in favour of the town-council. Unhappily, Mr. Bayne and his colleague took opposite sides in this petty contest, and a painful misunderstanding was produced betwixt them, followed by consequences probably affecting the future destinies of both. Mr. Bayne refers to these differences in his letter of resignation, addressed to the Presbytery, dated loth February, 1766: — "They (the Presbytery) know not how far I am advanced in life, who see not that a house of worship, so very large as the High Church, and commonly so crowded too, must be very unequal to my strength; and this burden was made more heavy by denying me a session to assist me in the common concerns of the parish, which I certainly had a title to. But the load became quite intolerable, when, by a late unhappy process, the just and natural right of the common session was wrested from us, which drove away from acting in it twelve men of excellent character." Mr. Bayne joined the Relief church, then in its infancy, having, even whilst in the Estab- lishment, held ministerial communion with Mr. Simpson, minister of Bellshill congregation, the first Relief church in the west of Scotland. In his letter of resignation already quoted, Mr. Bayne assured his former brethren that the change of his condition, and the charge he had accepted, would make no change in his creed, nor in his principles of Chris- tian and ministerial communion — "Nay (he adds), none in my cordial regard to the constitution and interests of the Church of Scotland, which I solemnly engaged to support some more than thirty years ago, and hope to do so while I live. At the same time I abhor persecution in every form, and that abuse of church power of late, which to me appears incon- sistent with humanity, with the civil interests of the nation, and destructive of the ends of our office as ministers of Christ." On the 24th December, Mr. Bayne accepted a call to become minister of the College Street Relief Church, Edinburgh, and his induction took place on the 13th February, 1766, three days after his resignation of his charge in Paisley. As his demission fell to be adjudicated upon by the General Assembly, in May of that year, his name remained for the present upon the roll of the Establishment, and so little did he yet consider himself separated from the communion of that church, that when the half-yearly sacrament of the Ford's supper came round in Edinburgh, soon after his settlement, after preaching in his own church in the forenoon, he went over in the afternoon, at the head of his congregation, to the New Greyfriars' Church, and joined in the ordinance with the congregation of the Rev. Dr. Erskine. At the Assembly in May, Mr. Bayne, in obedience to a citation, appeared at the bar, and was declared to be no longer a minister of the Church of Scotland, and all clergymen of that body were prohibited from holding ministerial com- munion with him. Mr. Bayne defended the course he had taken in a review of the proceedings of the Assembly,' entitled Memoirs of Modern Church Re- formation, or tht History of the General Assembly, 1 766, and occasional reflections upon the proceedings of said Assembly; with a brief account and vindication of the Presbytery of Relief, by James Bayne, A.M., minister of the gospel at Edinburgh. He denounces, with indignant severity, the injustice of his having been condemned by the Assembly without a libel, merely for having accepted a charge in another church, "in which (says he), I presumed, they could find nothing criminal; for often had ministers resigned their charge upon different accounts, and justifiable; nay, some have given it up for the more entertaining and elegant employ of the stage, who were not called in question or found delinquents." This was a pal- pable hit at Home, the author of Douglas, who sat in the Assembly as a ruling elder, to aid Dr. Robert- son in punishing Bayne. After a ministry of sixty years, Mr. Bayne died at Edinburgh, on the 17th January, I79°> i n his eightieth year. He was twenty-four years minister of the College Street Relief congregation, Edinburgh. His popularity as a preacher, his talents for ecclesi- astical affairs, his acquirements as a scholar and a theologian, and his sound judgment and weight of character, gave him great influence; and it was mainly to his large and enlightened views that the Relief church was indebted for the position to which it attained, even during his lifetime, as well as for retaining, till it was finally merged in the United Presbyterian Church, the catholic constitution on which it had been founded by Cillespie and Boston. Mr. Bayne was an uncompromising opponent of whatever he considered to be a violation of public morality. In 1770 he published a discourse, entitled The Theatre Licentious and Perverted, administering a stern rebuke to Mr. Samuel Foote for his Minor, a drama in which the characters of Whitefield and other zealous ministers were held up to profane ridicule. The dramatist considered it necessary to reply to Mr. Bayne's strictures, in an Apology for the Minor, in a letter to the Rev. Mr. Payne, rest- ing his defence upon the plea that he only satirized the vices and follies of religious pretenders. A volume of Mr. Bayne's discourses was published in 1778. BEATON, or BEATOUN, (Cardinal) David, who held the rectory of Campsie, the abbacy of DAVID BEATON. 101 Aberbrothick, the bishopric of Mirepoix in France, the cardinalship of St. Stephen in Monte Coelio, and the chancellorship of Scotland, and who was the chief of the Roman Catholic party in Scotland in the earlier age of the Reformation, was descended from an ancient family in Fife, possessed of the barony of Halfour, and was born in the year 1494. He was educated at the college of St. Andrews, where he completed his courses of polite literature and philosophy, but was sent afterwards to the uni- versity of Paris, where he studied divinity for several years. Entering into holy orders, he had the rectory of Campsieand the abbacy of Aberbrothick bestowed upon him by his uncle James Beaton, Archbishop of St. Andrews, who retained one-half of the rents of the abbacy to his own use. Possessing good abilities and a lively fancy, David Beaton became a great favourite with James V., who in 15 19 sent him as his ambassador to the court of France. He returned to Scotland in 1525, and, still growing in the king's favour, was in 1528 made lord privy-seal. In the year 1533 he was again sent on a mission to the French court. Beaton on this occasion was charged to refute certain calumnies which it was supposed the English had circulated against his countrymen, to study the preservation of the ancient league between the two nations, and to conclude a treaty of marriage between James and Magdalene, the daughter of Francis I. If unsuccessful in any of these points, he was to repair to Flanders, for the purpose of forming an alliance with the emperor. In every part of his embassy, Beaton seems to have succeeded, the marriage excepted, which was delayed on account of the declining health of Magdalene. How long Beaton remained at the French court at this time has not been ascertained; but it is certain that he was exceedingly agreeable to Francis, who, perceiving his great abilities, and aware of the in- fluence he possessed over the mind of the Scottish king, used every expedient to attach him to the in- terests of France. In 1536, finding a second embassy also unsuccess- ful, King James set sail for France, and proceeded to the court, where he was most cordially welcomed; and his suit being agreeable to Magdalene herself, Francis consented to their union, which was cele- brated on the 1st of January, 1537. On the 28th of May following, the royal pair landed in Scotland, being conveyed by a French fleet. Magdalene was received by the Scots with the utmost cordiality; but she was already far gone in a decline, and died on the 7th of July following, to the inexpressible grief of the whole nation. It was on the death of this queen that mournings were first worn in Scot- land. James, however, in expectation of this event, had fixed his attention upon Mary of Guise, widow of the Duke of Longueville; and Beaton, who by this time had returned to Scotland, was despatched immediately to bring her over. On this occasion he was appointed by the King of France Bishop of Mirepoix, to which see he was consecrated Decem- ber 5th, 1537. The following year he was, at the recommendation of the French king, elevated to the cardinalship by the pope, which was followed by a grant on the part of the French king for services already done, and for those which he might after- wards do to his majesty, allowing his heirs to succeed to his estate in France, though the said heirs should be born and live within the kingdom of Scotland. The cardinal returned to Scotland with Mary of Guise, and shortly after obtained the entire manage- ment of the diocese and primacy of St. Andrews, under his uncle James Beaton, whom he eventually succeeded in that office. A severe persecution was commenced at this time by the cardinal against all who were suspected of favouring the reformed doctrines. Many were forced to recant, and two persons, Norman Gourlay and David Straiton, were burned at the Rood of Green- side, near Edinburgh. Being appointed by the pope legatus a latere, Beaton held a conclave of noble- men, prelates, and church dignitaries at St. An- drews, and harangued them from his chair of state on the dangers that hung over the true catholic church from the proceedings of King Henry in Eng- land, and particularly from the great increase of heresy in Scotland, where it had found encourage- ment even in thecourt of the king. As he proceeded, he denounced Sir John Borthwick, provost of Lin- lithgow, as one of the most industrious incendiaries, and caused him to be cited before them for main- taining that the pope had no greater authority over Christians than any other bishop or prelate — that indulgences granted by the pope were of no force or effect, but devised to amuse the people and deceive poor ignorant souls — that bishops, priests, and other clergymen may lawfully marry — that the heresies commonly called the heresies of England and their new liturgy were to be commended by all good Christians, and to be embraced by them — that the people of Scotland are blinded by their clergy, and profess not the true faith — that churchmen ought not to enjoy any temporalities — that the king ought to convert the superfluous revenues of the church unto other pious uses — that the Church of Scotland ought to be reformed after the same manner as that of England was — that the canon law was of no force, being contrary to the law of God — that the orders of friars and monks should be abolished, as had been done in England — that he had openly called the pope a Simoniac, because he had sold spiritual things — that he had read heretical books and the New Testament in English, with treatises written by Melancthon, Gicolampadius, and other heretics, and that he not only read them himself, but distri- buted them among others — and lastly, that he openly disowned the authority of the Roman see. These articles being read, and Sir John neither appear- ing in person nor by proxy, he was set down as a confessed heretic, and condemned as an heresiarch. His goods were ordered to be confiscated and him- self burned in effigy, if he could not be apprehended, and all manner of persons forbidden to entertain or converse with him, under the pain of excommunica- tion or forfeiture. This sentence was passed against him on the 28th of May, and executed the same day so far as was in the power of the court, his effigy being burned in the market-place of St. Andrews, and two days after at Edinburgh. This was supposed by many to be intended as a gratifying spectacle to Mary of Guise, the new queen, who had only a short time before arrived from France. In the meantime. Sir John fled into England, where he was received with open arms by Henry VIII., by whom he was sent on an embassy to the Protestant princes of Germany, for the purpose of forming with them a defensive league against the pope. Johnston, in his Heroes of Scotland, says that "John Borthwick, a noble knight, was as much esteemed by King James V. for his exemplar and amiable qualities, as he was detested by the order of the priesthood on account of his true piety, for his unfeigned profession of which he was condemned; and, though absent, his effects confiscated, and his effigy, alter being subjected to various marks of ignominy, burned,'' a-, we have above related; '"this condemnation." Johnston adds, "he answered by a most learned apology, which mav vet be seen in the records of the martyrs DAVID BEATON. [Fox]; and having survived many years, at last died in peace in a good old age." During these events, Henry, anxious to destroy that interest which the French government had so long maintained in Scotland, sent into that kingdom the Bishop of St. David's with some books written in the vulgar tongue upon the doctrines of Chris- tianity, which he recommended to his nephew care- fully to peruse. James, who was more addicted to his amusements than to study, gave the books to be perused by some of his courtiers, who, being attached to the clerical order, condemned them as pestilent and heretical. There were, however, other matters proposed by this embassy than the books, though the clerical faction endeavoured to persuade the people that the books were all that was intended; for, shortly after, the same bishop, accompanied by William Howard, brother of the Duke of Norfolk, came to the king at Stirling so suddenly, that he was not aware of their coming till they were announced as arrived in the town. This, no doubt, was planned by Henry to prevent the intriguing of the priests and the French faction beforehand. His offers were so advantageous, that James acceded to them without scruple, and readily agreed to meet with his uncle Henry on an appointed day, when they were to settle all matters in dependence between them for the welfare of both kingdoms. Nothing could be more terrible to the clergy, of which Beaton was now confessedly the head in Scotland, than the agreement of the two kings; and they hastened to court from all quarters to weep over their religion, about to be betrayed by an unholy conference, which could not fail, they said, to end in the ruin of the kingdom. Having by these representations made a strong impression upon the king, they then bribed the courtiers who had the most powerful influence over him, to dissuade him from the promised journey, which they successfully did, and so laid the founda- tion of a war, the disastrous issue of which, preying upon the mind of James, brought him to an untimely end. In the whole of these transactions, Beaton, a zealous churchman and the hired tool of France, was the chief actor; and knowing that the king was both covetous and needy, he overcame his scruples, by persuading the clergy to promise him a yearly subsidy of 30,000 gold crowns. As he had no de- sign, however, that the church should defray the cost, he pointed out the estates of those who rebelled against the authority of the pope and the king as proper subjects for confiscation, whereby there might be raised annually the sum of 100,000 crowns of gold. In order to attain this object, he requested that, for himself and his brethren, they might only be allowed to name, as they were precluded themselves from sitting in judgment in criminal Cases, a lord chief- justice, before whom, were he once appointed, there could be neither difficulty in managing the process, nor delay in procuring judgment, since so many men hesitated not to read the books of the New and Old Testaments, and to treat the church and churchmen with contempt. This wicked counsel was complied with, and they nominated for this new court of in- quisition a judge everyway according to their own hearts, James Hamilton (a natural brother of the Farl of Arran), whom they had attached to their interests by large gifts, and who was willing to be reconciled to the king, whom he had lately offended, by any service, however cruel. The suspicions which the king entertained against ' his nobility from this time forward were such as to paralyze his efforts whether for good or evil. The inroads of 'the English, tco, occupied his whole attention, and the shameful overthrow of his army which had entered England by the Solway, threw him into such a state of rage and distraction, that he died at Falkland on the 13th of December, 1542, leaving the kingdom, torn by faction, and utterly defenceless, to his only surviving legitimate child, Mary, then no more than five days old. The sudden demise of the king, while it quashed the old projects of the cardinal, only set him upon forming new ones still more daring and dangerous. Formerly he had laboured to direct the movements of the king by humouring his passions, flattering his vanity, and administering to his vicious propensities; he now conceived that it would be easy for him to seize upon the government in the name of the infant queen. Accordingly, with the assistance of one Henry Balfour, a mercenary priest, whom he suborned, he is said to have forged a will for the king, in which he was himself nominated regent, with three of the nobility as his assessors or assistants. According to Knox, these were Argyle, Huntley, and Murray; but Buchanan, whom we think a very sufficient authority in this case, says that he also assumed as an assessor his cousin by the mother's side, the Earl of Arran, who was, after Mary, the next heir to the crown, but was believed to be poorly qualified for discharging the duties of a private life, and still less for directing the government of a kingdom. Aware of the danger that might arise from delay, the cardinal lost not a moment in idle deliberation. The will which he had forged he caused to be proclaimed at the cross of Edinburgh on the Monday immediately succeeding the king's death. Arran, had he been left to himself, would have peaceably acquiesced in the cardinal's arrangements. But his friends, the Hamiltons, incessantly urged him not to let such an occasion slip out of his hands. Hatred, too, to the cardinal, who, from his per- secuting and selfish spirit, was very generally detested, and the disgrace of living in bondage to a priest, procured them many associates. The near prospect which Arran now had of succeeding to the crown, must also have enlisted a number of the more wary and calculating politicians upon his side. But what was of still more consequence to him, Henry of England, who had carried all the principal prisoners taken in the late battle to London, marched them in triumph through that metropolis, and given them in charge to his principal nobility, no sooner heard of the death of the king than he recalled the captives to court, entertained them in the most friendly manner, and having taken a promise from each of them that they would promote as far as possible, without detriment to the public interests, or disgrace to themselves, a marriage between his son and the young queen, he sent them back to Scotland, where they arrived on the 1st of January, 1543. Along with the prisoners the Earl of Angus and his brother were restored to their country, after an exile of fifteen years, and all were received by the nation with the most joyful gratulations. It was in vain that the cardinal had already taken possession of the regency. Arran, by the advice of the laird of Grange, called an assembly of the nobility, and finding the will upon which the cardinal had assumed the regency forged, they set him aside and elected Arran in his place. This was peculiarly grateful to a threat proportion of the nobles and gentlemen, three hundred of whom, with Arran at their head, -were found in a proscription list among the king's papers, furnished to him by the cardinal. Arran, it was well known, was friendly to the reformers, and his imbecility of mind being unknown, the greatest expectations were formed from the moderation of his character. In the DAVID BEATON. 103 parliament that met in the month of March follow- ing, public affairs put on a much more promising appearance than could have been expected. The king of England, instead of an army, sent an am- bassador to negotiate a marriage between the young queen and his son, and a lasting peace upon the most advantageous terms. The cardinal, who saw in this alliance with Protestant England the downfall of his church in Scotland, opposed himself with the whole weight of the clergy, and all the influence of the queen-dowager, to everything like pacific measures, and that with so much violence, that he was, by the general consent of the house, shut up in a separate chamber while the votes were taken; after which everything was settled in the most amicable man- ner, and it was agreed that hostages should be sent into England for the fulfilment of the stipulated articles. The cardinal in the meantime was committed as a prisoner into the hands of Lord Seton, but was afterwards suffered to resume his own castle at St. Andrews. In the great confusion of public affairs that had prevailed for a number of years, trade had been at a stand, and now that a lasting peace seemed to be established, a number of vessels were sent to sea laden with the most valuable merchandise. Edinburgh itself fitted out twelve, and the other towns on the eastern coast in proportion to their wealth, all of them coasting the English shores, and entering their harbours with the most undoubt- ing confidence. Restored, however, to liberty, the cardinal strained every nerve to break up the arrange- ments that had been so happily concluded. He prevailed on a portion of the clergy to give all their own money, their silver plate, and the plate belong- ing to their churches; and aided by this money, with which he wrought upon the avarice and the poverty of the nobles and excited the clamours of the vulgar, who hated the very name of an English alliance, the cardinal soon found himself at the head of a formid- able party, which treated the English ambassador with the greatest haughtiness, in the hope of forcing him out of the country before the arrival of the day stipulated by the treaty with the regent for the delivery of the hostages. The ambassador, however, braved every insult till the day arrived, when he waited on the regent, and complained in strong terms of the manner in which he had been used, and demanded the fulfilment of the treaty. With respect to the affronts, the regent stated them to have been committed without his knowledge, and promised to punish the offenders. With regard to the hostages, however, he was obliged to confess, that, through the intrigues of the cardinal, it was impossible for him to furnish them. The treaty being thus broken off, the noblemen who had been captives only a few months before, ought, according to agreement, to have gone back into England, having left hostages to that effect. Wrought upon, however, by the cardinal and the clergy, they refused to redeem the faith they had pledged, and abandoned the friends they had left behind them to their fate. The only exception to this baseness was the Earl of Cassilis, who had left two brothers as hostages. Henry was so much plea>ed with this solitary instance of g'ood faith, that he set him free along with his brothers, and sent him home loaded with gifts. He at the same time seized upon all the Scottish vessels, a great number of which had been lately fitted out, and were at this time in the English harbours, confiscated the mer- chandise, and made the merchants and the mariners prisoners of war. This, while it added to the domestic miseries of Scotland, served also to fan the flames of dissension, which burned more fiercely than ever. The faction of the cardinal and the queen- dowager, entirely devoted to Erance, now sent am- bassadors thither to state their case as utterly desperate, unless they were supported from that country. In particular, they requested that Matthew Earl of Lennox might be ordered home, in order that they might set him up as a rival to the Hamiltons, who were already the objects of his hatred, on ac- count of their having waylaid and killed his father at Linlithgow. Arran laboured to strengthen his party by possess- ing himself of the infant queen, who had hitherto remained at Linlithgow in the charge of her mother the queen-dowager. The cardinal, however, was too wary to be thus circumvented, and occupied Linlithgow. Lennox, in the meantime, arrived from France, and having informed his friends of the ex- pectations he had been led to form, he proceeded to join the queen at Linlithgow, accompanied by up- wards of 4000 men. Arran, who had assembled all his friends in and about Edinburgh for the purpose of breaking through to the queen, now found himself completely in the back -ground, having, by the im- becility of his character, entirely lost the confidence of the people, and being threatened with a lawsuit by the friends of Lennox to deprive him of his estates, his father having married his mother, Janet Beaton, an aunt of the cardinal, while his first wife, whom he had divorced, was still alive. He now thought of nothing but making his peace with the cardinal. To this the cardinal was not at all averse, as he wished to make Arran his tool rather than his victim. Delegates of both parties met at Kirkliston, and agreed that the queen should be carried to Stirling; the Earl of Montrose, with the Lords Erskine, Lindsay, and Livingstone, being nominated to take the superintendence of her education. Having been put in possession of the infant queen, these noblemen proceeded with her direct to Stirling Castle, where she was solemnly inaugurated with the usual ceremonies on the 9th of Sept. 1543. The feeble regent soon followed, and, before the queen- mother and the principal nobility in the church of the Franciscans at Stirling, solemnly abjured the Protestant doctrines, by the profession of which alone he had obtained the favour of so large a portion of the nation, and for the protection of which he had been especially called to the regency. In this manner the cardinal, through the cowardice of the regent and the avarice of his friends, obtained all that he intended by the forged will, and enjoyed all the advantages of ruling, while all the odium that attended it attached to the imbecile Arran. There was yet, however, one thing wanting to establish the power of the cardinal — the dismissal of Lennox, who was now a serious obstacle in the way of both the cardinal and the queen-mother. They accordingly wrote to the King of France, entreating that, as Scotland had been restored to tranquillity by his liberality and assistance, he would secure his own good work and preserve the peace which he had procured, by recalling Lennox, without which it was impossible it could be lasting. Though they were thus secretly labouring ! > undermine this nobleman, the queen-mother ai cardinal seemed to honour him bef< ire the ; by a constant succession of games and fesnv.i court presented one unbroken scene oi gaiety. I >ay after day was spent in tournaments, and night after night in masquerades. In these fe>tivities. 1 t wh;c:i he was naturally fond, Lenr.ox found a keen : James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, been banished by James Y.. but had returned after his decease, and was now labouring * . ■■ . ta:n the 104 DAVID BEATON. dowager in marriage by the same arts that Lennox fancied himself to be so successfully employing. Both these noblemen were remarkable for natural endowments, and in the gifts of fortune they were nearly upon a level. Finding himself inferior, how- ever, in the sportive strife of arms, Bothwell with- drew from the court in chagrin, leaving the field to his rival undisputed. Lennox now pressed his suit upon the queen, but learned with astonishment that she had no intention of taking him for a husband, and so far from granting him the regency, she had agreed with the cardinal to preserve it in the posses- sion of his mortal enemy Arran, whom they expected to be more pliant. Exasperated to the highest degree, Lennox swore to be amply revenged, but uncertain as yet what plan to pursue, departed for Dunbarton, where he was in the midst of his vassals and friends. Here he received 30,000 crowns, sent to increase the strength of his party by the King of France, who had not yet been informed of the real state of Scotland. Being ordered to con- sult with the queen-dowager and the cardinal in the distribution of this money, Lennox divided part of it among his friends, and part he sent to the queen. The cardinal, who had expected to have been in- trusted with the greatest share of the money, under the influence of rage and disappointment, persuaded the vacdlating regent to raise an army and march to Glasgow, where he might seize upon Lennox and the money at the same time. Lennox, however, warned of their intentions, raised on the instant among his vassals and friends upwards of 10,000 men, with whom he marched to Leith, and sent a message to the cardinal at Edinburgh, that he desired to save him the trouble of coming to fight him at Glasgow, and would give him that pleasure any day in the fields between Edinburgh and Leith. This was a new and unexpected mortification to the cardinal, who had gained only the regent and his immediate dependants, the great body of the people, who had originally given him weight and influence, having now deserted his standard. The cardinal, therefore, delayed coming to action from day to day under various pretexts, but in reality that he might have time to seduce the adherents of his rival, who could not be kept for any length of time together. Lennox, finding the war thus protracted, made an agreement with the regent, and, proceed- ing to Edinburgh, the two visited backwards and forwards, as if all their ancient animosity had been forgotten. Lennox, however, being advised of treachery, withdrew in the night secretly to Glasgow, where he fortified, provisioned, and garrisoned the bishop's castle, but retired himself to Dunbarton. Here he learned that the Douglasses had agreed with the Hamiltons, and that, through the influence of his enemies, the French king was totally estranged from him. Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, and Robert Maxwell, in the meantime, came to Glasgow with the view of mediating between Lennox and the regent. The regent, however, seized them both in a clandestine manner by the way, and made them close prisoners in the castle of Cadzow. While the two factions were thus harassing one another to the ruin of their common country, Henry was demand- ing by letters satisfaction for the breach of treaties and the insults that had been heaped upon him in the person of his late ambassador. No notice being taken of these letters, Henry ordered a large arma- ment, which he had prepared to send against the coast of France, to proceed directly to Leith, and to visit Edinburgh and the adjacent country with all the miseries of war; and with so much secrecy and celerity did this armament proceed, that the first tidings heard of it in Scotland was its appearance in Leith Roads. Ten thousand men were disembarked on the 4th May, 1544, a little above Leith, who took possession of that place without the smallest opposi- tion. The regent and the cardinal were both at the time in Edinburgh, and, panic-stricken at the appear- ance of the enemy, and still more at the hatred of the citizens, fled with the utmost precipitation towards Stirling. The English in the meantime marched towards Edinburgh, which they sacked and set on fire; then dispersing themselves over the neighbour- ing country, they burned towns, villages, and gentle- men's seats to the ground, and returning by Edin- burgh to Leith, embarked aboard their ships and set sail with a fair wind, carrying with them an immense booty, and with the loss on their part of only a few soldiers. The cardinal and his puppet the regent, in the meantime, raised a small body of forces in the north, with which, finding the English gone, they laid siege to the castle of Glasgow, which surrendered. De- feated at Glasgow, in a fresh encounter with the Hamiltons, the friends of Lennox refused to risk another engagement, but they insisted that he should keep the impregnable fortress of Dunbarton, where he might in safety await another revolution in the state of parties, which they prognosticated would take place in a very short time. Nothing, however, could divert him from his purpose; and, committing the charge of the castle of Dunbarton to George Stirling, he sailed for England, where he was honourably en- tertained by King Henry, who settled a pension upon him, and gave him to wife his niece, Margaret Douglas, a princess in the flower of her age, and celebrated for every accomplishment becoming the female character. Arran was delighted to be de- livered from such a formidable rival ; and in the next parliament, which met at Linlithgow, he succeeded in causing Lennox to be declared a traitor, and in having his estates and those of his friends confiscated. The English, during these domestic broils, made a furious inroad into Scotland, burned Jedburgh and Kelso, and laid waste the whole surrounding countiy. Thence proceeding to Coldingham, they fortified the church and the church-tower, in which they placed a garrison on retiring home. This garrison, from the love of plunder as well as to prevent supplies for a besieging army, wasted the neighbouring district to a wide extent. Turning their attention at last to general interests, the Scottish government, at the head of which was the cardinal, the queen-dowager, and the nominal regent Arran, issued a proclama- tion for the nobles and the more respectable of the commons to assemble armed, and with provisions for eight days, to attend the regent. Eight thousand men were speedily assembled, and though it was the depth of winter, they proceeded against the church and tower of Coldingham without delay. When they had been before the place only one day and one night, the regent, informed that the English were advancing from Berwick, took horse, and with a few attendants galloped in the utmost haste to Dunbar. This inexplicable conduct threw the whole army into confusion, and but for the bravery of one man, Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, the whole of their tents, baggage, and artillery would have been aban- doned to the enemy. But although Angus and a few of his friends, at the imminent hazard of their lives, saved the artillery and brought it in safety to Dunbar, the conduct of the army in general, and of the regent in particular, was pusillanimous in the extreme. The spirit of the nation sunk, and the courage of the enemy rose in proportion. Ralph DAVID BEATON*. 105 Ivers and Brian Latoun, the English commanders, overran, without opposition, the districts of Merse, Teviotdale, and Lauderdale, and the Forth only seemed to limit their victorious arms. Angus, who alone of all the Scottish nobility at this time gave any indication of public spirit, indignant at the nation's disgrace, and deeply affected with his own losses — for he had extensive estates both in Merse and Teviotdale — made a vehement complaint to the regent upon his folly, and the regent was roused to a momentary exertion, so that, in company with Angus, he set out the very next day for the borders, their whole retinue not exceeding 300 horse. The English, who were at Jedburgh to the number of 5000 men, having ascertained the situation and small number of their forces, marched on the instant to surprise them before their expected supplies should come up. The Scots, however, apprised of their in- tentions, withdrew to the neighbouring hills, whence, in perfect security, they watched the movements of their enemies, who, disappointed in not finding them, wandered about during thenight in quest of such spoils as a lately ravaged town could supply, and with the returning dawn marched back to Jedburgh. The Scots, now joined by Norman Leslie, a youth of great promise, son to the Earl of Rothes, and 300 men from Fife, withdrew to the hills which overlook the village of Ancrum, where they were joined by the laird of Balcleugh, an active and experienced com- mander, with a few of his vassals, who assured him that the remainder would follow immediately. By the advice of Balcleugh the troops were dismounted, and the horses, under the care of servants, sent to an adjoining hill. The army was formed in the hollow in the order of battle. The English, as had been anticipated, seeing the horses going over the hill, supposed the Scots to be in full retreat, and eager to prevent their escape, rushed after them, and ere they were aware fell upon the Scottish spears. Taken by surprise, the English troops, though they fought with great bravery, were thrown into disorder, and sustained a signal defeat, losing in killed and cap- tured upwards of 1300 men. The loss on the part of the Scots was two men killed and a few wounded. By this victory and the alliance with France, Beaton now supposed himself fully established in the civil as well as the ecclesiastic management of the kingdom, and proceeded on a progress through the different provinces for the purpose of quieting the seditions which, as he alleged, had arisen in various places, but in reality to repress the Protestants, who, notwithstanding his having so artfully identified the cause of the Catholic religion with that of national feeling, had still been rapidly increasing. Carrying Arran along with him, as also the Earl of Argyle, lord justice-general, Lord Borthwick, the Bishops of Orkney and Dunblane, &c, he came to Perth, or, as it was then more commonly called, St. Johnston, where several persons were summoned before him for disputing upon the sense of the Scriptures, which, among all true Catholics, was a crime to be punished by the judge. Four unhappy men, accused of having eaten a goose upon a Friday, were condemned to be hanged, which rigorous sentence was put into execu- tion. A woman, Helen Stork, for having refused to call upon the Virgin for assistance in her labour, was drowned, although again pregnant. A number of the burge>ses of the city, convicted or suspected (for in those days they were the same thing) of smaller peccadilloes, were banished from the city. He also deposed the Lord Ruthven from the provostry of the city, for being somewhat attached to the new opinions, and bestowed the office upon the laird of Kinfauns, a relation to the Lord Gray, who was neither supposed to be averse to the new religion nor friendly to the cardinal; but he hoped by this arrangement to lay a foundation for a quarrel between these noblemen, by which at least one of them would be cut off. This act of tyranny, by which the citizens were deprived of their privilege of choosing their own governor, was highly resented by them, as well as by the Lord Ruthven, whose family had held the place so long that they almost considered it to be hereditary in their family. The new provost, Kin- fauns, was urged by the cardinal and his advisers to seize upon the government of the city by force, but the Lord Ruthven, with the assistance of the citizens, put him to the rout, and slew sixty of his followers. That Ruthven was victorious must have been a little mortifying to the cardinal; but as the victims were enemies of the church, the defeat was the less to be lamented. From St. Johnston the cardinal proceeded to Dundee, in order to bring to punishment the readers of the New Testament, which about this time began to be taught to them in the original Greek, of which the Scottish priesthood knew so little that they held it forth as a new book written in a new language, invented by Martin Luther, and of such pernicious qualities, that whoever had the misfortune to look into it became infallibly tainted with deadly heresy. Here, however, their proceedings were interrupted by the approach of Lord Patrick Gray and the Earl of Rothes. These noblemen being both friendly to the Reformation, the cardinal durst not admit them with their followers into a town that was notorious for attachment to that cause above all the cities of the kingdom; he therefore sent the regent back to Perth, whither he himself also accompanied him. Even in Perth, however, he durst not meet them openly, and the regent requiring them to enter sepa- rately, they complied, and were both committed to prison. Rothes was soon dismissed, but Gray, whom the cardinal was chiefly afraid of, remained in con- finement a considerable time. The cardinal, having gone over as much of Angus as he found convenient at the time, returned to St. Andrews, earning along with him a black friar, named John Rogers, who had been preaching the reformed doctrine in Angus. This individual he committed to the sea-tower of St. Andrews, where, it is alleged, he caused him to be privately murdered and thrown over the wall, giving out that he had attempted to escape over it, and in the attempt had fallen and broke his neck. Keep- ing Arran still in his company, the cardinal set out to Edinburgh, where he convened an assembly of the clergy to devise means for putting a stop to the disorders that threatened the total ruin of the church. In this meeting it was proposed to allay the public clamours by taking measures for reforming the open profligacy of the priests, which was the chief source of complaint. Their deliberations, however, were cut short by intelligence that George Wishart, the most eminent of the reformed preachers, was resid- ing with Cockbum of Ormiston, only about seven miles from Edinburgh. They calculated that, if they could cut off this individual, they should perform an action more serviceable to the cause of the church, and also one of much easier accomplishment, than reforming the lives of the priests. A troop of horse were immediately sent off to secure him. hut Cock- burn refusing to' deliver him, the cardinal himself and the regent followed, blocking up every avenue to the house, so as to rentier the c-ca;'e of the reformer impossible. To prevent the ettusion ot blood, however, the Karl of Bothwell was sent for, who pledged his faith to Cockbum that he would stand by Wishart, and that no harm should befall io6 DAVID BEATON. him; upon which he was peaceably surrendered. Bothwell, however, wrought upon by the cardinal, and especially by the queen-mother, with whom, Knox observes, "he was then in the glonders," after some shuffling to save appearances, delivered his prisoner up to the cardinal, who imprisoned him, first in the castle of Edinburgh, and soon after carried him to St. Andrews, where he was brought before the ecclesiastical tribunal, condemned for heresy, and most cruelly put to death, as the reader will find related in another part of this work under the article Wishart. Arran, pressed by his friends, and perhaps by his own conscience, wrote to the cardinal to stay the proceedings till he should have time to inquire into the matter, and threatened him with the guilt of innocent blood. But the warning was in vain, and the innocent victim was only the more rapidly hurried to his end for fear of a rescue. This act of tyranny and murder was extolled by the clergy and their dependants as highly glorifying to God and honourable to the actor. The people in general felt far otherwise, and regarded the cardinal as a monster of cruelty and lust, whom it would be a meritorious action to destroy. Beaton was not ignorant of this general hatred, nor of the devices that were forming against him; but he supposed his power to be now so firmly established as to be beyond the reach of faction. In the meantime he thought it prudent to strengthen his interest, which was already great, by giving his daughter in marriage to the Master of Crawford. For this purpose he proceeded to Angus, where the marriage was cele- brated with almost royal splendour, the bride receiv- ing from her father the cardinal no less than four thousand marks of dowry. From these festivities he was suddenly recalled by intelligence that Henry of England was collecting a great naval force, with which he intended to annoy Scotland, and especially the coast of Fife. To provide against such an exi- gency, the cardinal summoned the nobility to attend him in a tour round the coast, where he ordered fortifications to be constructed, and garrisons placed in the most advantageous positions. In this tour he was attended by the Master of Rothes, Norman Leslie, who had formerly been one of his friends, but had of late, from some private grudge, become cold towards him. Some altercation of course ensued, and they parted in mortal enmity. The cardinal determined secretly to take off or imprison Norman, with his friends the lairds of Grange, elder and younger, Sir James Learmont, provost of St. Andrews, and the laird of Raith, all whom he feared; and Norman resolved to slay the cardinal, be the consequences what they would. The cardinal was in the meantime in great haste to repair and strengthen his castle, upon which a large number of men were employed almost night and day. The conspirators having lodged themselves secretly in St. Andrews on the night of May the 28th, 1546, were, ere the dawn of the next morning, assem- bled to the number of ten or twelve persons in the neighbourhood of the castle, and the gates being opened to let in the workmen witli their building materials, Kirkaldy of Grange entered, and with him six persons, who held a parley with the porter. Norman Leslie and his company, having then entered, passed to the middle of the court. Lastly came John Leslie and lour men with him, at whose appear- ance the porter, suspecting some design, attempted to lift the drawbridge, but was prevented by Leslie, who leaped upon it, seized the keys, and threw the janitor into the ditch. The place thus secured, the workmen, to the number of a hundred, ran off the walls, and were put forth at the wicket gate unhurt. Kirkaldy then took charge of the privy postern, the others going through the different chambers, from which they ejected upwards of fifty persons, who were quietly permitted to escape. The cardinal, roused from his morning slumbers by the noise, threw up his window and asked what it meant. Being answered that Norman Leslie had taken his castle, he ran to the postern, but finding it secured, returned to his chamber, drew his two-handed sword, and ordered his chamberlain to barricade the door. In the mean- time, John Leslie demanded admittance, but did not gain it till a chimneyful of burning coals was brought to burn the door, when the cardinal or his chamber- lain (it is not known which) threw it open. Beaton, who had in the meantime hidden a box of gold under some coals in a corner of the room, now sat down in a chair, crying, "I am a priest, I am a priest; you will not slay me." But he was now in the hands of men to whom his priestly character was no recom- mendation. John Leslie, according to his vow, struck him twice with his dagger, and so did Peter Carmi- chael; but James Melville, perceiving them to be in a passion, withdrew them, saying, "This work and judgment of God, although it be secret, ought to be gone about with gravity." Then, admonishing the cardinal of his wicked life, particularly his shedding the blood of that eminent preacher, Mr. George Wishart, Melville struck him thrice through with a stog [or short] sword, and he fell, exclaiming, "Fie, fie, I am a priest; all's gone !" Before this time the inhabitants of St. Andrews were apprised of what was going on, and began to throng around the castle, exclaiming, "Have ye slain my Lord Cardinal? What have ye done with my Lord Cardinal?" As they refused to depart till they saw him, his dead body was hung out in a sheet by the assassins at the same window from which he had but a short time before witnessed the burning of Mr. George Wishart. Having no opportunity to bury the body, they after- wards salted it, wrapped it in lead, and consigned it to the ground floor of the sea-tower, the very place where he was said to have caused Rogers the preach- ing friar to be murdered. In this manner fell Cardinal David Beaton, in the height of prosperity, and in the prime of life, for he had only reached the fifty-second year of his age. His death was deeply lamented by his own party, to whom it proved an irreparable loss, and the authors of it were regarded by them as sacrilegious assassins; but by numbers, who, on account of difference in religion, were in dread of their lives from his cruelty, and by others who were disgusted by his insufferable arrogance, they were regarded as the restorers of their country's liberties, and many did not hesitate to hazard their lives and fortunes along with them. Whatever opinion may be formed regarding the manner of his death, there can be only one regarding its effects; the Protestant faith, which had quailed before his powerful intellect and persecuting arm, from this moment began to prosper in the land. It is probable, as his enemies alone have been his his- torians, that the traits of his character, and even the tone and bearing of many of his actions, have been to some degree exaggerated; yet there seems abundant proof of his sensuality, his cruelty, and his total disregard of principle in his exertions for the preservation of the Romish faith. Nothing, on the oilier hand, but that barbarism of the times which characterizes all Beaton's policy, as well as hisactions, could extenuate the foul deed by which he was re- moved from the world, or the unseemly sympathy which the reforming party in general manifested to- wards its perpetrators. As a favourable view of his character, and at the same time a fine specimen of DAVID BEATON JAMES BEATON. 107 old English composition, we extract the following from the supplement to Dempster : — "It frequently happens that the^ame great quali- ties of mind which enable a man to distinguish him- self by the splendour of his virtues are so overstrained or corrupted as to render him no less notorious for his vices. Of this we have many instances in ancient writers, but none by which it is more clearly displayed than in the character of the cardinal archbishop of St. Andrews, David Beaton, who, from his very child- hood, was extremely remarkable, and whose violent death had this in it singular, that his enemies knew no way to remove him from his absolute authority but that [of assassination]. When he was but ten years of age, he spoke with so much ease and gravity, with so much good sense and freedom from affectation, as surprised all who heard him. When he was little more than twenty, he became known to the Duke of Albany and to the court of France, where he trans- acted affairs of the greatest importance, at an age when others begin to become acquainted with them only in books. Before he was thirty he had merited the confidence of the regent, the attention of the French king, and the favour of his master, so that they were all suitors to the court of Rome in his behalf. He was soon after made lord privy-seal, and appointed by act of parliament to attend the young king, at his majesty's own desire. Before he attained the forty-fifth year of his age he was Bishop of Mirepoix in France, Cardinal of the Roman Church, Archbishop of St. Andrews, and Primate of Scotland, to which high dignities he added, before he was fifty, those of lord high-chancellor, and legate a latere. His behaviour was so taking, that he never addicted himself to the service of any prince or person but he absolutely obtained their confidence; and this power he had over the minds of others he managed with so much discretion, that his interest never weak- ened or decayed. He was the favourite of the regent, Duke of Albany, and of his pupil James V., as long as they lived; and the French king and the governor of Scotland equally regretted his loss. He was inde- fatigable in business, and yet managed it with great ease. He understood the interests of the courts of Rome, France, and Scotland better than any man of his time; and he was perfectly acquainted with the temper, influence, and weight of all the nobility in his own country. In time of danger he showed great prudence and steadiness of mind, and in his highest prosperity discovered nothing of vanity or giddiness. He was a zealous churchman, and thought severity the only weapon that could combat heresy. He loved to live magnificently, though not profusely; for at the time of his death he was rich, and yet had provided plentifully for his family. But his vices were many, and his vices scandalous. He quarrelled with the old Archbishop of Glasgow in his own city, and pushed this quarrel so far that their men fought in the very church. His ambition was boundless, for he took into his hands the entire management of the affairs of the kingdom, civil and ecclesiastical, and treated the English ambassador as if he had been a sovereign prince. He made no scruple of sow- ing discord among his enemies, that he might reap security from their disputes. His jealousy of the governor [Arran] was such, that he kept his eldest son as a hostage in his house, under pretence of tak- ing care of his education. In point of chastity he was very deficient; for, though we should set aside as calumnies many of those things which his enemies have reported of His intrigues, yet the posterity he left behind him plainly proves that he violated those vows, to gratify his passions, which he obliged others to hold sacred on the penalty of their lives. In a word, had his probity been equal to his parts, had his virtues come up to his abilities, his end had been less fatal, and his memory without blemish. As it is, we ought to consider him as an eminent instance of the frailty of the brightest human faculties, and the instability of what the world calls fortune." He wrote, according to Dempster, Memoirs of his own Embassies, A Treatise of Jeter's Primacy, and Letters to Several Persons. BEATON, James, uncle to the preceding, and himself an eminent prelate and statesman, was a younger son of John Beaton of Balfour, in Fife, and of Mary Boswell, daughter of the Laird of Balmouto. Having been educated for the church, he became, in 1503, provost of the collegiate church of Bothwell, by the favour, it has been almost necessarily supposed, of the house of Douglas, who were patrons of the establishment. His promotion was very rapid. In 1504 he was made abbot of the rich and important abbacy of Dunfermline, which had previously been held by a brother of the king; and in 1505, on the death of his uncle, Sir David Beaton, who had hitherto been his chief patron, he received his office of high treasurer, and became, of course, one of the principal ministers of state. On the death of Vaus, Bishop of Galloway, in 1508, James Beaton was placed in that see, and next year he was translated to the archi-episcopate of Glasgow. He now resigned the treasurer's staff, in order that he might devote himself entirely to his duties as a churchman. While Archbishop of Glasgow, he busied himself in what were then considered the most pious and virtuous of offices, namely, founding new altarages in the cathedral, and improving the accommodations of the episcopal palace. He also entitled himself to more lasting and rational praise by such public acts as the building and repairing of bridges within the regality of Glasgow. Upon all the buildings, both sacred and secular, erected by him, were carefully blazoned his armorial bearings. During all the earlier part of his career, this great prelate seems to have lived on the best terms with the family of Douglas, to which he must have been indebted for his first preferment. In 1515, when it became his duty to consecrate the celebrated Gavin Douglas as Bishop of Dunkeld, he testified his respect for the family by entertaining the poet and all his train in the most magnificent manner at Glasgow, and defraying the whole expenses of his consecration. Archbishop Beaton was destined to figure very prominently in the distracted period which ensued upon the death of James IV. As too often happens in the political scene, the violence of faction broke up his old attachment to the Douglasses. The Earl of Angus, chief of that house, having mar- ried the widow of the king, endeavoured, against the general sense of the nation, to obtain the supreme power. Beaton, who was elevated by the regent Albany to the high office of lord-chancellor, and ap- pointed one of the governors of the kingdom during his absence in France, attached himself to the < : - site faction of the Hamiltons, under the Earl of A: : . n. On the 29th of April, 1520, a convention having been called to compose the differences of the two parr.e-. the Hamiltons appeared in military guise, and seemed prepared to vindicate their supremacy with the sw> >;-d. Beaton, their chief counsellor, sat in his house a; the bottom of the Blackfriars' Wynd/with armour under his robes, ready, apparently, to have joined the forces of the Hamilton/, in the event of a quarrel. In this crisis Gavin Douglas was deputed by h;.-, nephew the Earl of Angus to remonstrate wit archbishop against the hostile pre parations of his ■La::.. io8 JAMES BEATON. party. Beaton endeavoured to gloss over the matter, and concluded with a solemn asseveration upon his conscience that he knew not of it. As he spoke, he struck his hand upon his breast, and caused the mail to rattle under his gown. Douglas replied, with a cutting equivoque, "Methinks, my lord, your con- science clatters," — as much as to say, your conscience is unsound, at the same time that the word might mean the undue disclosure of a secret. In the en- suing conflict which took place upon the streets, the Hamiltons were worsted, and Archbishop Beaton had to take refuge in the Blackfriars' Church. Being found there by the Douglasses, he had his rochet torn from his back, and would have been slain on the spot but for the interposition of the Bishop of Dun- keld. Having with some difficulty escaped, he lived for some time in an obscure way, till the return of the Duke of Albany, by whose interest he was appointed, in 1523, to the metropolitan see of St. Andrews. On the revival of the power of the Douglasses in the same year, he was again obliged to retire. It is said that the insurrection of the Earl of Lennox, in 15251 which ended in the triumph of the Douglasses and the death of the earl at Linlithgow Bridge, was stirred up by Archbishop Beaton, as a means of emancipating the king. After this unhappy event, the Douglasses persecuted him with such keenness that, to save his life, he assumed the literal guise and garb of a shepherd, and tended an actual flock upon Bogrian-Knowe in Fife. At length, when James V. asserted his independence of these powerful tutors, and banished them from the kingdom, Beaton was reinstated in all his dignities, except that of chancellor, which was conferred upon Gavin Dun- bar, the king's preceptor. He henceforward resided chiefly at St. Andrews, where, in 1527, he was in- duced, by the persuasions of other churchmen less mild than himself, to consent to the prosecution and death of Patrick Hamilton, the proto-martyr of the Scottish Reformation. He was subsequently led on to various severities against the reformers, but rather through a want of power to resist the clamours of his brethren, than any disposition to severity in his own nature. It would appear that he latterly intrusted much of the administration of his affairs to his less amiable nephew. The chief employment of his latter years was to found and endow the New College of St. Andrews, in which design, however, he was thwarted in a great measure by his executors, who misapplied the greater part of his funds. lie died in 1539. BEATON, James, Archbishop of Glasgow, was the second of the seven sons of John Beaton, or Be- thune, of Balfour, elder brother of Cardinal Beaton. He received the chief part of his education at Paris, under the care of his celebrated uncle, who was then residing in the French capital as ambassador from James V. His first preferment in the church was to be chanter of the cathedral of Glasgow, under Arch- bishop Dunbar. When his uncle attained to nearly supreme power, he was employed by him in many important matters, and in 1543 succeeded him as Abbot of Aberbrothick. The death of the cardinal does not appear to have materially retarded the ad- vancement of his nephew; for we find that, in 1552, he had sufficient interest with the existing govern- ment to receive the second place in the Scottish church, the archbishopric of Glasgow, to which he was consecrated at Rome. He was now one of the most important personages in the kingdom; he en- joyed the confidence of the governor, the Farl of Ar- ran; hisniece, Mary Beaton, oneof the " Four Maries," was the favourite of the young Queen Mary, now residing in France; and he was also esteemed very highly by the queen-dowager, Mary of Lorrain, who was now aspiring to the regency. During the sub- sequent sway of the queen regent, the Archbishop of St. Andrews enjoyed her highest confidence. It was to him that she handed the celebrated letter addressed to her by John Knox, saying, with a careless air, "Please you, my lord, to read a pasquil." In 1557, when the marriage of the youthful Mary to the Dau- phin of F ranee was about to take place, James Bea- ton, Archbishop of St. Andrews, stood the first of the parliamentary commissioners appointed to be present at the ceremony, and to conduct the difficult business which was to precede it. He and his companions executed this duty in a most satisfactory manner. After his return in 1558 he acted as a privy-councillor to the queen regent, till she was unable any longer to contend with the advancing tide of the Reformation. In November, 1559, his former friend, the Earl of Arran, who had now become a leading reformer, came with a powerful retinue to Glasgow, and, to use a delicate phrase of the time, "took order" with the cathedral, which he cleared of all the images, placing a garrison at the same time in the archbishop's palace. Beaton soon after recovered his house by means of a few French soldiers; but he speedily found that neither he nor his religion could maintain a permanent footing in the country. In June, 1560, the queen regent expired, almost at the very moment when her authority became extinct. Her French troops, in terms of a treaty with the re- formers, sailed next month for their native country; and in the same ships was the Archbishop of Glasgow, along with all the plate and records of the cathedral, which he said he would never return till the Catholic faith should again be triumphant in Scotland. Some of these articles were of great value. Among the plate, which was very extensive and rich, was a golden image of Christ, with silver images of his twelve apostles. Among the records, which were also very valuable, were two chartularies, one of which had been written in the reign of Robert III., and was called The Red Book of Glasgoiu. All these objects were deposited by the archbishop in the Scots College at Paris, where the manuscripts continued to be of use to Scottish antiquaries up to the period of the French Revolution, when, it is believed, they were destroyed or dispersed. Beaton was received by Queen Mary at Paris with the distinction due to a virtuous and able counsellor of her late mother. On her departure next year, to assume the reins of government in Scotland, she left him in charge of her affairs in France. He spent the whole of the subsequent part of his life as ambassador from the Scottish court to his most Christian Majesty. This duty was one of extreme delicacy during the brief reign of Queen Mary, when the relation of the two courts was of the most important character. Mary addressed him frequently in her own hand, and a letter in which she details to him the circumstances of her husband's death is a well-known historical document. It is not probable that Beaton's duty as an am- bassador during the minority of James VI. was any- thing but a titular honour; but that prince, on taking the government into his own hands, did not hesitate, notwithstanding the difference of religion, to employ a statesman who had already done faithful service to the two preceding generations. James also, in 1587, was able to restore to him both his title and estates as Archbishop of Glasgow — a proceeding quite anomalous, when we consider that the presbyterian religion was now established in Scotland. The arch- bishop died, April 24, 1603, in the eighty-sixth year of his age, and a full jubilee of years from his conse- cration. He had been ambassador to three genera- ROBERT BEATSON JAMES BEATTIE. 109 tions of the Scottish royal family, and had seen in France a succession of six kings, and transacted public affairs under five of them. He also had the satisfaction of seeing his sovereign accede to the English throne. James learned the intelligence of his death while on his journey to London, and im- mediately appointed the historian Spottiswoode to be his successor in the cathedral chair of Glasgow. Archbishop Spottiswoode characterizes him as "a man honourably disposed, faithful to the queen while she lived, and to the king her son; a lover of his country, and liberal, according to his means, to all his countrymen." His reputation, indeed, is singularly pure, when it is considered with what vigour he op- posed the Reformation. He appears to have been regarded by the opposite party as a conscientious, however mistaken man, and to have been spared ac- cordingly all those calumnies and sarcasms with which party rage is apt to bespatter its opponents. Hav- ing enjoyed several livings in France, besides the less certain revenues of Glasgow, he died in possession of a fortune amounting to 80,000 livres, all of which he left to the Scots College, for the benefit of poor scholars of Scotland — a gift so munificent, that he was afterwards considered as the second founder of the institution, the first having been a Bishop of Moray, in the year 1325. Besides all this wealth, he left an immense quantity of diplomatic papers, ac- cumulated during the course of his legation at Paris; which, if they had been preserved to the present time, would unquestionably have thrown a strong light upon the events of his time. BEATSON, Robert, LL.D. an ingenious and useful author, was a native of Dysart, where he was born in 1742. Being educated with a view to the military profession, he obtained an ensigncy in 1756 at the commencement of the Seven Years' war. He served next year in the expedition to the coast of France, and afterwards, as lieutenant, in the attack on Martinique, and the taking of Guadaloupe. In 1766 he retired on half-pay, and did not again seek to enter into active life till the breaking out of the American war. Having failed on this occasion to obtain an appointment suitable to his former services, he resolved to apply himself to another profession — that of literature — for which he had all along had considerable taste. His publications were: 1. A Political Index to the Histories of Great Britain and Ireland, I vol. 8vo, 1786, of which a third edition, in 3 volumes, was published at a late period of his life. This work consists chiefly of accurate and most useful lists of all the ministers and other prin- cipal officers of the state, from the earliest time to the period of its publication. 2. Naval and Military Memoirs of Great Britain, from 1727 to the present time, 3 vols. 8vo, 1790; 2d edition, 6 vols. 1S04. 3. View of the Memorable Action of the Zfth July, 1778, 8vo, 1 79 1. 4. Essay on the Comparative Advantages of Vertical and Horizontal Windmills, 8vo, 1798. 5. Chronological Register of both Houses of Parliament, from 1 706 to 1 807, 3 vols. 8vo, 1S07. Also some communications to the board of agricul- ture, of which he was an honorary member. This laborious author enjoyed in his latter years the situation of barrack-master at Aberdeen, where, if we are not mistaken, he received his degree of LL.D. He died at Edinburgh, January 24, 1S1S. BEATTIE. James, poet and moral philosopher, was born on the 25th October, 1735, at Laurence- kirk, then an obscure hamlet in Kincardineshire. His father, James Beattie, was a small shop-keeper in the village, and at the same time rented a little farm in the neighlxmrhood. His mother's name was Jean Watson, and they had six children, of whom the subject of this article was the youngest. The father was a man of information and of character superior to his condition, and the mother was also a person of abilities; on the early death of her hus- band, she carried on the business of his shop and farm, with the assistance of her eldest son, and thus was able to rear her family in a comfortable manner. Young Beattie, who, from his earliest years, was considered a child of promise, received the rudiments of a classical education at the parish school, which had been taught forty years before by Ruddiman, and was at this time a seminary of considerable re- putation. His avidity for books, which, in such a scene might have otherwise remained unsatisfied, was observed by the minister, who kindly admitted him to the use of his library. From a copy of Ogilvy's Virgil, obtained in this way, he derived his first notions of English versification. Even at this early period, his turn for poetry began to manifest itself, and among his school-fellows he went by the name of the Poet. In 1749, being fourteen years of age, he commenced an academical course at Marischal College, Aberdeen, and was distinguished by Pro- fessor Blackwell as the best scholar in the Greek class. Having entitled himself by this superiority to a bursary, he continued at the college for three years more, studying philosophy under the distinguished Gerard, and divinity under Dr. Pollock. His origi- nal destination being for the church, he read a dis- course in the hall, which met with much commenda- tion, but was at the same time remarked to be poetry in prose. Before the period when he should have taken his trials before the presbytery, he relinquished all thoughts of the clerical profession, and settled as school-master of the parish of Fordoun, near his native village. In this humble situation, Beattie spent the years between 1753 and 1758. In the almost total want of society, he devoted himself alternately to useful study and to poetical recreation. It was at this period of life his supreme delight to saunter in the fields the livelong night, contemplating the sky, and marking the approach of day. At a small distance from the place of his residence, a deep and extensive glen, finely clothed with wood, runs up into the mountains. Thither he frequently repaired; and there several of his earliest pieces were written. From that wild and romantic spot he drew, as from the life, some of the finest descriptions and most beautiful pictures of nature that occur in his poetical compositions. It is related that, on one occasion, having lain down early in the morning on the bank of his favourite rivulet, adjoining to his mother's house, he had fallen asleep; on awaking, it was not without astonishment that he found he had been walking in his sleep, and that he was then at a considerable distance (about a mile and a half) from the place where he had lain down. On his way back to that spot, he passed some labourers, and inquiring of them if they had seen him walking along, they told him that they had, with his head hanging down, as if looking for something he had lost. Such an incident, though by no means unexampled, shows to what a degree Beattie was now the creature of impulse and imagi- nation. He was, indeed, exactly the fanciful being whom he has described in The Minstrel, fortun- ately for Beattie, Mr. Garden, advocate (afterwards Lord Gardenstone), who at that time resided in the neighbourhood, found him one day sitting in one of his favourite haunts, employed in writing with a pencil. On discovering that he was engaged in JAMES BEATTIE. the composition of poetry, Mr. Garden became in- terested, and soon found occasion to honour the young bard with his friendship and patronage. Beattie at the same time became acquainted with Lord Monboddo, whose family seat was within the parish. In 1757, when a vacancy occurred in the place of usher to the grammar-school of Aberdeen, Beattie applied for it, and stood an examination, without success. On the place becoming again vacant next year, he had what he considered the good fortune to be elected. This step was of some importance to him, as it brought him into contact with a circle of eminent literary and professional characters, who then adorned the colleges of Aberdeen, and to whom he soon made himself favourably known. In 1760 one of the chairs in the Marischal College, became vacant by the death of Dr. Duncan, professor of natural philosophy. Beattie, whose ambition had never presumed to soar to such an object, happened to mention the circumstance in conversation, as one of the occurrences of the day, to his friend Mr. Arbuthnot, merchant in Aberdeen; 1 who surprised him with a proposal that he should apply for the vacant situation. With a reluctant permission from Beattie, he exerted his influence with the Earl of Errol to apply, by means of Lord Milton, to the Duke of Argyle, who then dispensed the crown pat- ronage of Scotland; and to the astonishment of the subject of the application, he received the appoint- ment. By an accommodation, however, with the nominee to another vacant chair, he became pro- fessor of moral instead of natural philosophy; an arrangement suitable to the genius and qualifications of both the persons concerned. By this honourable appointment, Beattie found himself, through an extraordinary dispensation of fortune, elevated in the course of two years from the humble and obscure situation of a country parish schoolmaster, to a place of very high dignity in one of the principal seats of learning in the country, where he could give full scope to his talents, and indulge, in the greatest extent, his favourite propensity of communicating knowledge. His first business was to prepare a course of lectures, which he began to deliver to his pupils during the session of 1760-1, and which, during subsequent years, he greatly improved. In the discharge of his duties he was indefatigable; not only delivering the usual lectures, but taking care, by frequent recapitulations and public examina- tions, to impress upon the minds of his auditors the groat and important doctrines which he taught. So early as the year 1756 Dr. Beattie had occasion- ally sent poetical contributions to the Scots Magazine from his retirement at Fordoun. Some of these, along with others, he now arranged in a small volume, which was published at London, 1760, and dedicated to the Earl of Errol, his recent benefactor. His Original Poems and Translations — such was the title of the volume — made him favourably known to the public as a poet, and encouraged him to further exertions in that branch of composition. He also studied verse-making as an art, and in 1762 wrote his Essay on Poetry, which was published in 1776, along with the quarto edition of his Essay on Truth. In 1763 he visited London from curiosity, and in 1765 he published a poem of considerable length, but unfor- tunate design, under the title of The Judgment of Paris, which threatened to be as fatal to his poetical career, as its subject had been to the Trojan state. In 1766 he published an enlarged edition of his 1 Father to Sir William Arbuthnot, Bart., who was lord- provuat of Edinburgh at the visit of George IV. in 1822. poems, containing among other compositions The Judgment of Paris; but this poem he never after- wards reprinted. His object was to make the classical fable subservient to the cause of virtue, by personifying wisdom, ambition, and pleasure in the characters of three goddesses, an idea too meta- physical to be generally liked, and which could scarcely be compensated by the graces of even Beattie's muse. Gray, the author of the Elegy in a Coimtry Church- yard, visited Scotland in the autumn of 1765, and lived for a short time at Glammis Castle with the Earl of Strathmore. Beattie, whose poetical genius was strongly akin to that of Gray, wrote to him, intreat- ing the honour of an interview; and this was speedily accomplished by an invitation for Dr. Beattie to Glammis Castle, where the two poets laid the founda- tion of a friendship that was only interrupted by the death of Gray in 1771. Some time previous to September, 1766, Beattie commenced a poem in the Spenserian stanza; a de- scription of verse to which he was much attached, on account of its harmony, and its admitting of so many fine pauses and diversified terminations. The subject was suggested to him by the dissertation on the old minstrels, which was prefixed to Dr. Percy's Rcliques of Ancient English Poetry, then just pub- lished. In May, 1767, he informs his friend Black- lock at Edinburgh, that he wrote 150 lines of this poem some months before, and had not since added a single stanza. His hero was not then even bom, though in the fair way of being so; his parents being described and married. He proposed to continue the poem at his leisure, with a description of the character and profession of his ideal minstrel; but he was wofully cast down by the scantiness of the poetical taste of the age. On the 28th of June, 1767, Dr. Beattie was mar- ried, at Aberdeen, to Miss Mary Dun, the only daughter of Dr. James Dun, rector of the grammar- school of that city. The heart of the poet had previously been engaged in honourable affection to a Miss Mary Lindsay, whom, so late as the year 1823. the writer of this memoir heard recite a poem written by Beattie in her praise, the lines of which com- menced with the letters of her name in succession. The venerable lady was the widow of a citizen of Montrose, and in extreme though healthy old age. At this period infidelity had become fashionable to a great extent in Scotland, in consequence of the eclat which attended the publication of Hume's meta- physical treatises. Attempts had been made by Drs. Reid and Campbell, in respective publications, to meet the arguments of the illustrious sceptic; but it was justly remarked by the friends of religion, that the treatises of these two individuals assumed too much of that deferential tone towards the majesty of Mr. Hume's intellect and reputation, which was to be complained of in society at large, and no doubt was one of the causes why his sceptical notions had become so fashionable. It occurred to Dr. Beattie. and he was encouraged in the idea by his friends Dr. Gregory, Sir William Forbes, and other zealous adherents of Christianity, that a work treating Hume a little more roughly, and not only answering him with argument, but assailing him and his followers with ridicule, might meet the evil more extensively, and be more successful in bringing back the public to a due sense of religion. Such was the origin "I his Essay on Truth, which was finished for the press in autumn, 1769. It is curious that this essay, so powerful ns a defence of religion, was only brought into the world by means of a kind of pious fraud. The manuscript was committed to Sir William Forbes and Mr. JAMES BEATTIE. Arbuthnot, at Edinburgh, with an injunction to dis- pose of it to any bookseller who would pay a price for it, so as to insure its having the personal interest of a tradesman in pushing it forward in the world. Unfortunately, however, the publisher to whom these gentlemen applied, saw so little prospect of profit in a work on the unfashionable side of the argument, that he positively refused to bring it forth unless at the risk of the author; a mode to which it was certain that Dr. Beattie would never agree. "Thus," says Sir William Forbes, "there was some danger of a work being lost, the publication of which, we flattered ourselves, would do much good in the world. "In this dilemma it occurred to me," continues Beattie's excellent biographer, "that we might, without much artifice, bring the business to an easy conclusion by our own interposition. We therefore resolved that we ourselves should be the purchasers, at a sum with which we knew Dr. Beattie would be well satisfied, as the price of the first edition. But it was absolutely necessary that the business should be glossed over as much as possible, otherwise we had reason to fear that he would not consent to our taking on us a risk which he himself had refused to run. "I therefore wrote him (nothing surely but the truth, although, I confess, not the whole truth), that the manuscript was sold for fifty guineas, which I remitted to him by a bank-bill; and I added that we had stipulated with the bookseller who was to print the book that we should be partners in the publication. On such trivial causes do things of considerable moment often depend; for had it not been for this interference of ours in this somewhat ambiguous manner, perhaps the Essay on Truth, on which all Dr. Beattie's future fortunes hinged, might never have seen the light." In the prosecution of his design, Dr. Beattie has treated his subject in the following manner: he first endeavours to trace the different kinds of evidence and reasoning up to their first principles; with a view to ascertain the standard of truth, and explain its immutability. He shows, in the second place, that his sentiments on this head, how inconsistent soever with the genius of scepticism, and with the principles and practice of sceptical writers, are yet perfectly consistent with the genius of true philosophy, and with the practice and principles of those whom all acknowledge to have been the most successful in the investigation of truth; concluding with some infer- ences or rides, by which the most important fallacies of the sceptical philosophers may be detected by every person of common sense, even though he should not possess acuteness of metaphysical know- ledge sufficient to qualify him for a logical confuta- tion of them. In the third place, he answers some objections, and makes some remarks, by way of estimate of scepticism and sceptical writers. The essay appeared in May, 1770, and met with the most splendid success. It immediately became a shield in the hands of the friends of religion, where- with to intercept and turn aside the hitherto resist- less shafts of the sceptics. A modern metaphysician may perhaps find many flaws in the work; but, at the time of its publication, it was received as a com- plete and triumphant refutation of all that had been advanced on the other side. Under favour of the eclat which attended the publication, religion again raised its head, and for a time infidelity was not nearly so fashionable as it had been. After getting this arduous business off his mind, Beattie returned to his long Spenserian poem, and in 1771 appeared the first part of The Minstrel, without his name. It was so highly successful that he was encouraged to republish this, along with a second part, in 1774; when his name appeared in the title-page. "Of all his poetical works, The Minstrel is, beyond all question, the best, whether we consider the plan or the execution. The language is extremely elegant, the versification harmonious; it exhibits the richest poetic imagery, with a delight- ful flow of the most sublime, delicate, and pathetic sentiment. It breathes the spirit of the purest virtue, the soundest philosophy, and the most ex- quisite taste. In a word, it is at once highly con- ceived and admirably finished." 1 Lord Lyttleton thus expressed his approbation of the poem — one of the most warmly conceived compliments that was ever perhaps paid by a poet to his fellow: "I read The Minstrel with as much rapture as poetry, in her sweetest, noblest charms, ever raised in my mind. It seemed to me, that my once most beloved minstrel, Thomson, was come down from heaven, refined by the converse of purer spirits than those he lived with here, to let me hear him sing again the beauties of nature and finest feelings of virtue, not with human but with angelic strains!" It is to be regretted that Beattie never completed this poem. He originally designed that the hero should be employed in the third canto in rousing his countrymen to arms for defence against a foreign invasion, and that, over- powered and banished by this host, he should go forth to other lands in his proper character of a wandering minstrel. It must always be recollected, in favour of this poem, that it was the first of any length, in pure English, which had been published by a Scottish writer in his own country — so late has been the commencement of this department of our literature. Beattie visited London a second time in 1771, and, as might be expected from his increased reputa- tion, entered more largely into literary society than on the former occasion. Among those who honoured him with their notice, was Dr. Johnson, who had been one of the warmest admirers of the Essay on Truth. In 1773 he paid another visit to the metro- polis, along with his wife, and was received into a still wider and more eminent circle than before. On this occasion the university of Oxford conferred upon him an honorary degree of Doctor of Laws. The chief object of this tour was to secure a pro- vision which his friends had led him to expect from the government, in consideration of his services in the cause of religion. Many plans were proposed by his friends for obtaining this object. A bishop is believed to have suggested to the king, that the author of the Essay on Truth might be introduced to the English church, and advanced according to his merits; to which the king, however, is said to have slily replied, that as Scotland abounded most in infidels, it would be best for the general in- terests of religion that he should be kept there. George III., who had read and admired Beattie s book, and whose whole mind ran in favour of virtue and religion, suggested himself the more direct plan of granting him a pension of £200 a year, which was accordingly carried into effect. The king als 1 honoured Dr. Beattie with his particular notice at a lave, and further granted him the favour of an in- terview in his private apartments at Kew I r v.] - wards of an hour. The agreeable conversr.ti n an unassuming manners of Dr. Beattie a; ; ear tn nave not only made a most favour the king and queer, — for her majesty als > was ; re- sent at this interview— bat ui m ■ i .- 112 JAMES BEATTIE. that lofty circle of society to which he was intro- duced. Even after he had been thus provided for, several dignified clergymen of the Church of England con- tinued to solicit him to take orders; and one bishop went so far as directly to tempt him with the offer of a rectorate worth £500 a year. He had no dis- inclination to the office of a clergyman, and he decidedly preferred the government and worship of the English church to the Presbyterian system of his own country. But he could not be induced to take such a reward for his efforts in behalf of religion, lest his enemies might say that he had never contemplated any loftier principle than that of bettering his own circumstances. Nearly about the same time, he further proved the total absence of a mercenary tinge in his character, by refusing to be promoted to the chair of moral philosophy in the university of Edinburgh. His habits of life were now, indeed, so completely associated with Aber- deen and its society, that he seems to have con- templated any change, however tempting, with a degree of pain. About this time, some letters passed between him and Dr. Priestley, on occasion of an attack made by the latter on the Essay on Truth. In his corres- pondence with this ingenious but petulant adversary, Dr. Beattie shows a great deal of candour and dignity. He had at first intended to reply, but this intention he appears afterwards to have dropped: "Dr. Priestley," says he, "having declared that he will answer whatever I may publish in my own vindication, and being a man who loves bustle and book-making, he wishes above all things that I should give him a pretext for continuing the dispute. To silence him by force of argument, is, I know, impossible." In the year 17S6, Beattie took a keen interest in favour of a scheme then agitated, not for the first time, to unite the two colleges of Aberdeen. In the same year, he projected a new edition of Addison's prose works, with a biographical and critical preface to the extent of half a volume, in which he meant to show the peculiar merits of the style of Addison, as well as to point out historically the changes which the English language has undergone from time to time, and the hazard to which it is exposed of being debased and corrupted by modern innovations. He was reluctantly compelled by the state of his health to retrench the better part of this scheme. The works of Addison were published under his care, in 1790, by Messrs. Creech and Sibbald, booksellers, Edinburgh, but he could only give Tickell's Life, together with some extracts from Dr. Johnson's Re- marks on Addison s Prose, adding a few notes of his own, to make up any material deficiency in Tickell's narrative, and illustrating Johnson's critique by a few occasional annotations. Though these addi- tions to his original stock of materials are very slight, th^ admirer of Addison is much gratified by some new information which he was ignorant of before, and to which Dr. Beattie has given a degree of authenticity, by adhering, even in this instance, to his general practice of putting his name to every- thing he wrote. In 17S7 Dr. Beattie made application to the Marischal College, while the project of the union was still pending, desiring that his eldest son, James Hay Beattie, then in his twentieth year, should be recommended to the crown as his assistant and suc- cessor in the chair of moral philosophy. The letter in which this application was made, sets forth the extraor linary qualifications of his son, with a delight- ful mixture oi deiicacy and warmth. The young man was an excellent Greek and Latin scholar; wrote and talked beautifully in the latter language, as well as in English; and, to use the language of his father, the best of his genius lay entirely towards theology, classical learning, morals, poetry, and criticism. The college received the application with much respect, and, after a short delay on account of the business of the union, gave a cordial sanction to the proposal. Unfortunately for the peace of Dr. Beattie's latter years, his son, while in the possession of the highest intellectual qualifications, and characterized by every virtue that could be expected from his years, was destined by the inherent infirmity of his constitution for an early death. After his demise, which hap- pened on the 19th of November, 1790, when he had just turned two and twenty, Dr. Beattie published a small collection of his writings, along with an ela- borate preface, entering largely into the character and qualifications of the deceased. In this, he was justified by the admiration which he heard every- where expressed of the character and intellect of his son; but, as posterity appears to have reduced the prodigy to its proper limits, which were nothing wonderful, it is unnecessary to bring it further into notice. Dr. Beattie bore the loss of his son with an ap- pearance of fortitude and resignation. Yet, although his grief was not loud, it was deep. He said, in a subsequent letter, alluding to a monument which he had erected for his son, "I often dream of the grave that is under it : I saw, with some satisfaction, on a late occasion, that it is very deep, and capable of holding my coffin laid on that which is already in it;" words that speak more eloquently of the grief which this event had fixed in the heart of the writer, than a volume could have done. Another exemplification of the rooted sorrow which this event planted in the mind of Beattie, occurs in a letter written during a visit in England, in the subsequent summer. Speaking of the com- memoration music, which was performed in West- minster Abbey, "by the greatest band of musicians that ever were brought together in this country," he tells that the state of his health could not permit him to be present. Then recollecting his son's accomplishment as a player on the organ, he adds, "Perhaps this was no loss to me. Even the organ of Durham Cathedral was too much for my feelings; for it brought too powerfully to my remembrance another organ, much smaller indeed, but more inter- esting, which I can never hear any more." In 1790 Dr. Beattie published the first volume of his Elements of Moral Science, the second volume of which did not make its appearance till 1793. He had, in 1776, published a series of Essays on poetry and music, on laughable and ludicrous com- position, and on the utility of classical learning. In 1783 had appeared Dissertations, Moral and Critical; and in 1786 a small tract entitled The Evidences of the Christian Religion briefly and plainly stated. All of these minor productions originally formed part of the course of ptelections which he read from His chair in the university; his aim in their publica- tion being "to inure young minds to habits of atten- tive observation; to guard them against the influence of bad principles; and to set before them such views of nature, and such plain and practical truths, as might at once improve the heart and the understand- ing, and amuse and elevate the fancy." His Ele- ments of Moral Science was a summary of the whole of that course of lectures, a little enlarged in the doctrinal parts, with the addition of a few illustrative examples. In a certahi degree, this work may be JAMES BEATTIE. "3 considered as a text-book ; it is one, however, so copious in its extent, so luminous in its arrangement and language, and so excellent in the sentiments it everywhere inculcates, that if the profound meta- physician and logician do not find in it that depth of science which they may expect to meet with in other works of greater erudition, the candid inquirer after truth may rest satisfied that, if he has studied these Elements with due attention, he will have laid a solid foundation on which to build all the know- ledge of the subject necessary for the common pur- poses of life. Of such of the lectures as had already appeared in an extended shape, under the name of Essays, particularly those on the theory of language, and on memory and imagination, Dr. Beattie has made this abridgment as brief as was consistent with any degree of perspicuity; while he bestowed no less than seventy pages on his favourite topic, the aboli- tion of the slave-trade, and the subject of slavery connected with it. While delighting the world with the quick suc- cession and variety of his productions, Dr. Beattie was himself nearly all the while a prey to the severest private sufferings. Mrs. Beattie had unfortunately inherited from her mother a tendency to madness. Though this did not for a considerable time break out into open insanity, yet in a few years after their marriage it showed itself in caprices and follies, which embittered every hour of her husband's life. Dr. Beattie tried for a long time to conceal her dis- order from the world, and if possible, as he has been heard to say, from himself; but at last, from whim, caprice, and melancholy, it broke out into downright frenzy, which rendered her seclusion from society absolutely necessary. During every stage of her illness, he watched and cherished her with the utmost tenderness and care ; using every means at first that medicine could furnish for her recovery, and afterwards, when her condition was found to be perfectly hopeless, procuring for her, in an asylum at Musselburgh, every accommodation and comfort that could tend to alleviate her suffer- ings. "When I reflect," says Sir William Forbes, "on the many sleepless nights and anxious days which he experienced from Mrs. Beattie's malady, and think of the unwearied and unremitting attention he paid to her, during so great a number of years in that sad situation, his character is exalted in my mind to a degree which may be equalled, but I am sure never can be excelled, and makes the fame of the poet and the philosopher fade from my remem- brance." The pressure of this calamity — slow but certain — the death of his eldest son, and the continued decline of his health, made it necessary, in the session of ! 793-4» tnat he should be assisted in the duties of his class. From that period till 1797, when he finally relinquished his professorial duties, he was aided by Mr. George Glennie, his relation and pupil. He experienced an additional calamity in 1796, by the sudden death of his only remaining son, Mon- tague, a youth of eighteen, less learned than his brother, but of still more amiable manners, and whom he had designed for the English church. This latter event unhinged the mind of Beattie, who, it may be remarked, had always been greatly depen- dent on the society, and even on the assistance, of his children. The care of their education, in which he was supposed to be only over-indulgent, had been his chief employment for many years. This last e^'ent, by rendering him childless, dissolved nearly the last remaining tie which bound him to the world, and left him a miserable wreck upon the shores of life. Many days had not elapsed after the deatli of VOL. I. Montague Beattie, ere he began to display symptoms of a decayed intellect, in an almost total loss of memory respecting his son. He would search through the whole house for him, and then say to his niece and housekeeper, Mrs. Glennie, "You may think it strange, but I must ask you, if" I have a son, and where he is." This lady would feel her- self under the painful necessity of bringing to his re- collection the death-bed sufferings of his son, which always restored him to reason. And he would then, with many tears, express his thankfulness that he had no child, saying, with allusion to the malady they might have derived from their mother, "How could 1 have borne to see their elegant minds mangled with madness?" When he looked for the last time on the dead body of his son, and thought of the separation about to take place between him- self and the last being that connected him with this sublunary scene, he said, "Now, I have done with the world 1" After this, he never bent his mind again to study, never touched the violoncello, on which he used to be an excellent and a frequent player, nor answered the letters of his friends, except perhaps a very few. In March, 1797, Dr. Beattie became completely crippled with rheumatism, and in the beginning of 1799 he experienced a stroke of palsy, which for eight days so affected his speech that he could not make himself understood, and even forgot several of the most material words of every sentence. At different periods after this, he had several returns of the same afflicting malady; the last, in October, 1802, deprived him altogether of the power of motion. He lingered for ten months in this humiliating situa- tion, but was at length relieved from all his suffer- ings by the more kindly stroke of death, August 18, 1S03. He expired without the least appearance of suffering. His remains were deposited close to those of his two sons in the ancient cemetery of St. Nicolas, and were marked soon after by a monument, for which Dr. James Gregory of Edinburgh supplied an elegant inscription. The eminent rank which Dr. Beattie holds as a Christian moral philosopher is a sufficient testimony of the public approbation of his larger literary efforts. It may, however, be safely predicted that his repu- tation will, after all, centre in his Minstrel, which is certainly his most finished work, and, everything con- sidered, the most pleasing specimen of his intellect. The mind of Beattie is so exactly identified with his works, and is so undisguisedly depicted in them, that when his works are described, so also is his character. His whole life was spent in one continued series of virtuous duties. His piety was pure and fervent; his affection for his friends enthusiastic; his benevolence unwearying; and the whole course ot his life irreproachable. The only fault which his bio- grapher, Sir William Forbes, could find in the whole composition of his character, was one of a contingent and temporary nature: he became, towards the end of his life, a little irritable by continued application to metaphysical controversy. To a very correct and fine taste in poet ry he added the rare accomplishment of an acquaintance, to a considerable extent, with both the sifter arts of painting and music: his practice in drawing never went, indeed, beyond an occasional grotesque sketch of some friend, for the amusement of a social hour. In music he was more deeply skilled, being not only able to take part in private concerts on the violoncello, but capable of apj 1 ing the music of the very highest masters lor every other instrument. In his person, he was of the middle height, though not elegantly, yet not awk- wardly formed, but with something of a sluueh in his H4 ANDREW BELL. gait. His eyes were black and piercing, with an expression of sensibility somewhat bordering on melancholy, except when engaged in cheerful con- versation and social intercourse with his friends, when they were exceedingly animated. Such was "the MinstreL" BELL, Andrew, D.D., author of the Madras System of Education, was born at St. Andrews, in 1753, and educated at the university of that place. The circumstances of his early life, and even the date of his entering into holy orders, are not known; but it is stated that he was remarkable in youth for the exemplary manner in which he fulfilled every public and private duty. After having spent some time in America, we find him, in 1786, officiating as one of the ministers of St. Mary's, at Madras, and one of the chaplains of Fort St. George. In that year the directors of the East India Com- pany sent out orders to Madras that a seminary should be established there for the education and maintenance of the orphans and distressed male children of the European military. The proposed institution was at first limited to the support of a hundred orphans: half the expense was defrayed by the Company, and half by voluntary subscriptions; and the Madras government appropriated Egmore Redoubt for the use of the establishment. The superintendence of this asylum was undertaken by Dr. Bell, who, having no object in view but the gratification of his benevolence, refused the salary of 1200 .pagodas (^So) which was attached to it. "Here/' he reasoned with himself, "is a field for a clergyman to animate his exertion, and encourage his diligence. Here his success is certain, and will be in proportion to the ability he shall discover, the labour he shall bestow, and the means he shall em- ploy. It is by instilling principles of religion and morality into the minds of the young that he can best accomplish the ends of his ministry: it is by forming them to habits of diligence, industry, veracity, and honesty, and by instructing them in useful know- ledge, that he can best promote their individual in- terest, and serve the state to which they belong — two purposes which cannot, in sound policy, or even in reality, exist apart. With these feelings, and with this sense of duty, Dr. Bell began his task. He had to work upon the most unpromising materials; but the difficulties he had to encounter led to that improvement in educa- tion with which his name is connected. Failing to retain the services of properly qualified ushers, he resorted to the expedient of conducting his school through the medium of the scholars themselves. It is in the mode of conducting a school by means of mutual instruction that the discovery of Dr. Bell consists; and its value, as an abbreviation of the me- chanical part of teaching, and where large numbers were to be taught economically, could not be easily over-estimated at the time, although later education- alists have improved upon the plan; and the Madras system is now less in use than formerly. The first new practice which Dr. Bell introduced into his school was that of teaching the letters by making the pupils trace them in sand, as he had seen children do in a Malabar school. The next improvement was the practice of syllabic reading. The child, after he had learned to read and spell monosyllables, was not allowed to pronounce two syllables till he acquired by long practice a perfect precision, from the com- mencement of his experiment he made the scholars, as far as possible, do everything for themselves: they ruled their own paper, made their own pens, &c, with the direction only of their teacher. The maxim of the school was, that no boy could do anything right the first time, but he must learn when he first set about it, by means of his teacher, so as to be able to do it himself ever afterwards. Every boy kept a register of the amount of work which he performed, so that his diligence at different times might be com- pared. There was also a black book, in which all offences were recorded: this was examined once a week; and Dr. Bell's custom, in almost every case of ill-behaviour, was to make the boys themselves judges of the offender. He never had reason, he says, to think their decision partial, biassed, or un- just, or to interfere with their award otherwise than to mitigate or remit the punishment, when he thought the formality of the trial and of the sentence was sufficient to produce the effect required. But the business of the teachers was to preclude punishment by preventing faults; and so well was this object attained, that for months together it was not found necessary to inflict a single punishment. An annual saving of not less than £ upon the education and support of two hundred boys was pro- duced in the institution at Madras by Dr. Bell's regulations and improvements. This, however, he justly regarded as an incidental advantage: his grand aim was to redeem the children from the stigma under which they laboured, and the fatal effect which that stigma produced, and to render them good subjects, good men, and good Christians. After superintending the school for seven years, he found it necessary for his health to return to Europe. The directors of the charity passed a resolution for providing him a passage in any ship which he might wish to sail in, declaring at the same time that, under "the wise and judicious regulations which he had established, the institution had been brought to a degree of perfection and promising utility far exceed- ing what the most sanguine hopes could have sug- gested at the time of its establishment; and that he was entitled to their fullest approbation for his zealous and disinterested conduct." The language in which Dr. Bell spoke of the institution, on leaving it, will not be read without emotion by those who are capable of appreciating what is truly excellent in human nature. During seven years which he had devoted to this office, he had "seen the vices incident to the former situation of these orphans gradually vanishing, their morals and conduct approaching nearer and nearer every year to what he wished them to be, and the character of a race of children in a manner changed." "This numerous family," said he, "I have long regarded as my own. These children are, indeed, mine by a thousand ties. 1 have for them a parental affection, which has grown upon me every year. For them I have made such sacri- fices as parents have not always occasion to make for their children; and the nearer the period approaches when I must separate myself from them, the more I feel the pang I shall suffer in tearing myself from this charge, and the anxious thoughts I shall throw- back upon these children when I shall cease to be their protector, their guide, and their instructor." Eleven years after he had left India, Dr. Bell re- ceived a letter, signed by forty-four of these pupils, expressing, in the strongest terms, their gratitude for the instruction and care which he had bestowed upon them in childhood. On his arrival in Europe, Dr. Bell published, in 1 797, a pamphlet, entitled An Experiment in Educa- tion made at the Male Asylum of Madras ; suggesting a System by which a School or Family may teach itself, under the Superintendence of the Master or /'a rent. The first place in England where the system was adopted was the charity school of St. Bodolph's, ANDREW BELL BENJAMIN BELL. i'5 Aldgate. Dr. Brings, then of Kendal, the second who profited by Dr. Bell's discovery, introduced it into the Kendal schools of industry. These occur- rences took place in 1798. In 1801 the system was fully and successfully acted upon in the schools of the society for bettering the condition of the poor. In 1803 Mr. Joseph Lancaster first appeared before the public. He published a pamphlet with the fol- lowing title •.—Improvements in Education, as it respects the Industrious Classes of the Community; containing a short Account of its Present State, Hints towards its Improvement, and a Detail of some Practical Experi- ments conducive to that end. "The institution," he says, "which a benevolent Providence has been pleased to make me the happy instrument of bringing into usefulness, was begun in the year 1798. The intention was to afford the children of mechanics, <.\x., instruction in reading, writing, and arithmetic, at about half the usual price." The peculiarity of his plan seems to have consisted chiefly in introducing prizes and badges of merit, together with a mode of teaching spelling, which was said to economize time and trouble: he also called in the assistance of boys, as monitors. In his pamphlet of 1803 he freely accords to Bell the priority of the mutual system, acknowledging also that the published account of it had furnished him with several useful hints. Even- tually, Mr. Lancaster put forward a claim, obviously unfounded, to be considered the sole inventor of the system. One of his advertisements in the newspapers was thus introduced: — "Joseph Lancaster, of the Free School, Borough Road, London, having invented, under the blessing of divine Providence, a new and mechanical system of education for the use of schools, feels anxious to disseminate the knowledge of its advantages through the United Kingdom. By this system, paradoxical as it may appear, above 1 000 children may be taught and governed by one master only." And on another occasion he writes: — "I stand forward before the public, at the bar of mankind, to the present, and for the future ages, avowing myself the inventor of the British or Royal Lancasterian System." — (Morning Post, 4th September.) Again: "I submit the plan, original as it is, to the country. The same cannot be found in any other work unless copied or pirated." — (Preface to edition of 1S0S. ) But however unfounded Lancaster's claim to origin- ality may be, there can be no doubt that, through his exertions chiefly, the system was extensively reduced to practice in England. Belonging to the sect of Quakers — a body whose exertions in the cause of philanthropy are universally known — he did not apply to them in vain for pecuniary support and per- sonal exertion. Lancasterian schools were rapidly- established in all parts of the kingdom. Dr. Bell lived long enough to witness the intro- duction of his system into 12,973 national schools, educating 900,000 of the children of his English countrymen, and to know that it was employed ex- tensively in almost every other civilized country. He acquired in later life the dignity of a prebendary of Westminster, and was master of Sherborn Hospital, Durham. He was also a member of the Asiatic Society, and of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. He employed himself during his latter years in writ- ing several works <>n education, among which the most valuable were. The Elements of Tuition, The English Sch .'. and a thief Manual of Mutual In- struction and DiSifline. The evening of his pious and useful life wa> spent at Cheltenham, in the prac- tice of every social and domestic virtue. Previously to his death, he bestowc 1 /.'i 20.000, three per cent, st >ck. for the purpose ol t nmding an academy on an extensive and liberal scale in his native citv. lie also bequeathed a considerable sum for purposes of education in Edinburgh; which, however, to the everlasting disgrace of the individuals intrusted with the public affairs of that city at the time, was com- promised among the general funds of that corpora- tion a few months before its bankruptcy. Dr. Bell died on the 27th of January, 1832, in the eightieth year of his age, and was buried in West- minster Abbey, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London acting as chief mourners. BELL, BENJAMIN, a distinguished surgical author, was born in Dumfries in 1749. He received an ex- cellent classical education at the grammar-school of that town, under Dr. Chapman, the rector. The property of Blackett House, in Dumfriesshire, hav- ing devolved to him on the death of his grandfather, he gave a remarkable instance of generosity by dis- posing of it, and applying the proceeds in educating himself and the younger branches of the family — four- teen in number. Mr. Bell had early made choice of medicine as a profession, and accordingly he was bound appren- tice to Mr. Hill, surgeon in Dumfries, whose practice was in that quarter very extensive. It was a dis- tinguishing feature in Mr. Bell's character, that what- ever he had once engaged in was prosecuted with extreme ardour and assiduity. lie therefore went through the drudgery and fatigue necessarily con- nected with the detail of a surgeon-apothecary's shop with the greatest spirit. He, by degrees, materially assisted his master by attending his patients — to whom his correct behaviour, unfailing good humour, and agreeable manners recommended him in the most powerful manner. He repaired to Edinburgh in 1766, entered himself as a member of the univer- sity, and set himself, with the most serious applica- tion, to the prosecution of his medical studies. The Edinburgh medical school had just sprung into notice, and was beginning to make very rapid strides to its present eminence. The first and second Monro had already given evident tokens of the most distinguished genius. The first had now relinquished, in favour of his equally skilful son, the business of the ana- tomical theatre, and only occasionally delivered clinical lectures in the infirmary. Mr. Bell's ardour in the study of anatomy, in all its branches, was unabated. As he proposed to practise surgery, he was well aware that eminence in that department of the profession could only be arrived at by persever- ing industry. He was appointed house-surgeon to the Royal Infirmary, which afforded him every oppor- tunity of improvement. It was here that he laid the foundation of that superior adroitness and dexterity which so peculiarly characterized him in the many hazardous but successful operations which he was called to perform. Though Mr. Bell was more particularly designed for the profession of a surgeon, he neglected no de- partment of medicine. Dr. Black, whose discoveries formed a new era in the .science of chemistry, had been removed from Glasgow to Edinburgh d the year in which Mr. bed entered the urA\ Hi.s lectures and experiments proved g tractive, and powerfully interested tl !■ • Dr. Cullen was professor of the i; -' ".' - cine, and his ' ' - dour amongst the stti lents. Tl praci was taught by 1 >r. [< >hn ( '•■:■■. :/. ' v i v 1 .. John lb.pe. ' i: ' Bell attended, and it ivc.-t be - '■' were men of di-I ' -. ' no diligent stu lent c '.'.id listen v. .-.'.. at !.;;■> .;. ven n6 SIR CHARLES BELL Mr. Bell had resolved, in 1770, to visit Paris and London — the two great schools for surgical practice. Before doing so, however, he passed the examinations at Surgeons' Hall, and was admitted a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, Edinburgh. In those great cities he remained nearly two years, assiduously improving himself in surgery. Returning to his native country in 1772, he commenced business in Edin- burgh. Lew came better prepared than he did for the practice of surgery. His education was liberal and extensive. His appearance was much in his favour. His address was good, his manner com- posed and sedate. Mr. Bell had early formed the plan of composing a system of surgery — and this he at last accomplished. He did not publish the whole work at once; but in the year 1778, about six years after he had finally settled in Edinburgh, and become established in practice, the first volume was given to the world. The remaining volumes appeared from time to time until the work was completed in six volumes, 8vo, in 178S. In 1793 appeared his Treatise on Gonorrhea, and in 1794 another Treatise on Hydrocele, which is understood to be the least popular of his works. Mr. Bell married, in 1776, Miss Hamilton, daughter of Dr. Robert Hamilton, professor of divinity in the university of Edinburgh, by whom he had a numerous family. He died, April 4, 1806. BELL. Sir Charles, was born at Edinburgh in 1774. His father was a minister of the Scottish Episcopal Church, and held a small living at Doune, in the county of Perth. As the minister died while still young, his family, consisting'of four sons, were thrown upon the maternal care; but this, instead of being a disadvantage, seems to have produced a contrary effect, by the early development of their talents, so that they ail attained distinguished positions in society, the first as a writer to the signet, the second as an eminent surgeon, and the third as professor of Scots law in the university of Edinburgh. Charles, the youngest, was less favourably situated than his brothers for a complete education, but his own observation and natural aptitude supplied the deficiency. "My education," he tells us, " was the example of my brothers." The care of his mother did the rest, so that her youngest and best-beloved child at last outstripped his more favoured seniors, and his grateful remembrance of her lessons and training continued to the end of his life. The history of such a family justifies the saying which the writer of this notice has often heard repeated by a learned professor of the university of Clasgow: "When I see," he said, "a very talented youth who makes his way in the world, I do not ask, Who was his father? but, Who was his mother?" On being removed to the high-school of Edinburgh — where, by the way, he made no distinguished figure — Charles was chiefly under the charge of his brother John, subsequently the eminent surgeon, and it was from him he derived that impulse which determined his future career. He studied anatomy, and with such proficiency that, even before he had reached the age of manhood, he was able to deliver lectures on that science, as assistant of his brother John, to a class of more than a hundred pupils. In 1799, even before he was admitted a fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh, he published the first part of his System of Dissections. Longing, however, for a wirier field of action, and disgusted with the medical controversies in Edinburgh, he removed to London in 1804. It was a bold step; for at this time, owing to political causes, a Scots- man of education was regarded with suspicion and dislike in this favourite field of Scottish adventure, and Charles Bell was looked upon as an interloper come to supplant the true children of the English soil. But he bravely held onward in his course, and won for himself the esteem of influential friends, the chief of whom were Sir Astley Cooper and Dr. Abemethy, and he soon extended the circle by his treatise on the Anatomy of Expression, which was published in London in 1806. It was a work so admirably suited for painters, in their delineations of human feeling and passion, that the most dis- tinguished artists of the day adopted it for their text-book, and were loud in their encomiums of its merits. Still, however, this was but the foundation- stone of his future distinction. Bell had determined to be "chief of his profession in character," and to attain this daring height much had to be surmounted. He commenced as a public lecturer, but upon a humble and disadvantageous scale, as he was still an alien in London; and his early discoveries upon the nervous system, which he was patiently maturing, as his future highest claims to distinction, were as yet but little esteemed by the public, and would be compelled to force their way slowly into notice, if they should ever chance to be noticed. In 1807, the same year in which he commenced his course of lectures, he published his System of Operative Surgery, a work where all the operations described in it were the result not of mere theory or reading, but of personal experience. It was amidst this disheartening amount of un- thanked, unappreciated toil and disappointment that Charles Bell sought a comforter of his cares; and in 181 1 he married Miss Shaw, who not only justified his choice, but made him brother-in-law to two men whose pursuits were congenial to his own. These were John and Alexander Shaw, whom his lessons and example raised into distinguished anatomists and physiologists, while the latter ultimately became the most effective champion of his preceptor's claims to originality in his physiological and anatomical dis- coveries. Bell's darkened horizon now began to clear, and his worth to be properly estimated. In 181 1, the happy year of his marriage, after he had long remained unconnected with any medical school or association, he was allied to the Ilunterian School in Windmill Street, as joint-lecturer with Mr. Wilson. The extent of his knowledge and power of illustrating it, exhibited in his prelections, and the happy facility of demonstration and language, which he had always at command, soon made his lectures popular, so that in 18 14 he was appointed surgeon to the Middlesex Hospital; and here his remarkable skill as an operator, combined with his style of lecturing, which although not eloquent, was full of thought very strikingly expressed, made him a favourite both with patients and pupils. The result of his labours there, which continued till 1836, enabled him to make the honest boast at his departure, that he had left the institution, which at his entrance was but of small account, "with full wards, and _£l20,ooo in the funds." As the whole of the preceding period, up to the date of Napoleon's banishment to St. Helena, had been a season of war, the professional talents of Bell had been in request in our military hospitals, and upon the Continent, as well as in London, so that in 1S09, immediately after the battle ofCorunna, he quitted the metropolis, to attend upon the wounded of the British army. Here his opportunities of acquiring fresh knowledge were eagerly embraced, and the result of his experience was an essay on gun-shot wounds, which appeared as an appendix to his System of Operative Surgery, published in 1807. SIR CHARLES BELL HENRY BELL. i'7 After the battle of Waterloo, he also repaired to Brussels, and took the charge of an hospital; and here he was engaged for three successive days and nights in operating upon and dressing the wounds of three hundred soldiers. Of these cases he made various drawings in water-colouring, which are reckoned among the best specimens of such pro- ductions in our anatomical school. The time at length arrived when Bell was to ac- quire that full amount of reputation for which he had toiled so long and laboriously, and amidst such unmerited neglect. P'rom an early period his favourite subject of investigation was the nervous system, upon which the most erroneous opinions had hitherto prevailed. Even professional men of high medical and anatomical knowledge rested satisfied in the belief that all the nerves were alike, and that the superior amount of susceptibility in any organ merely depended upon the greater number of nerves allotted to it. But even before he left Edinburgh, a suspicion had grown upon the mind of Bell, that this prevalent opinion was erroneous, and further inquiry satisfied him that his suspicion was right. He found that the nerves were distributed into different classes, to each of which belonged its proper function; and that the same puncture which, applied to any other of these conductors to the senses, would produce a sen- sation of pain, when applied to the eye would give only the impression of a flash of light. He saw, also, that the two roots by which the spinal nerves are connected with the vertebral medulla, impart two different powers, the one of motion, the other of sensation. In this way he accounted for those cases in which the motive or sensitive powers are singly or severally lost. This discover}-, which was as wonder- ful as that of the circulation of the blood, astonished the whole medical world: it was a revelation that had remained unknown till now, and when an- nounced could not be controverted; and under this new guidance, practical anatomists were directed to the proper seat of the ailments that came under their notice, as well as taught the right mode of cure. His theory, which was published in 1S21 in the Philosophical Transactions, in the form of an essay on the "Nervous System," produced immediate at- tention, and when its value was appreciated, attempts were made to deny him the merit of the discover} - . Eortunately, however, for his claims, he had printed a pamphlet for distribution among his friends as early as 1S11, in which the principal points of his theory were already announced; while his letters, written to his brother upon the subject, were suffi- cient to put to flight the numerous pretenders who claimed the discovery as their own. His subsequent publications on the Nervous Circle, and On the Eye, completely established the existence of a sixth sense, by which we are enabled to ascertain and estimate the qualities of size, weight, form, distance, texture, and resistance. Bell had now reached the summit of his ambition, and established for himself a European reputation. His improvements were adopted in every country where the healing art was studied as a science, while the leading men of the Continent united in testifying to the value of his labours. In 1824 he was appointed to the .senior chair of anatomy and surgerv in the London College of Surgeons, while his treatises on Animal Mechanics, and On the Hand, and his Illus- trations of Paleys Xatural Theology, secured that professional distinction which seemed capable of no further extension. ( )n the accession of William IV. to the throne, it was resolved to commemorate this event by conferring the honour of knighthood upon a lew of the most eminent scientific men of the period, and in this chosen number Bell was included, with his countrymen Brewster, Leslie, and Ivory. An opportunity now occurred for Sir Charles Bell to return to Scotland, after an absence of thirty-two years, by an offer in 1836 of the professorship of surgery in the university of Edinburgh, which he accepted. It was his prevailing desire, notwith- standing his wide and lucrative practice in London, to have leisure for prosecuting his scientific re- searches, and to prosecute them among the friends of his youth, and in the place where they had com- menced. But unfortunately he found Edinburgh too limited a field for his purposes, and especially for a new and great work upon the Nervous System, which he wished to publish, with numerous splendid illustrations. Instead of this he was obliged to con- tent himself with a new edition of the Anatomy 0/ Expression, which he greatly extended and improved, in the course of a tour through Italy, during the in- terval of a college session. He also published his Institutes of Surgery, containing the substance of his lectures delivered in the university. In 1842 during the vacation of summer, Sir Charles left Edinburgh on a journey to London; but, on reaching Hallow Park on the 27th of May, he died suddenly the same night. The cause of his death was angina pectoris, brought on, as was supposed by his friends, from disappointment, chiefly arising from the new medical reform bill, which he believed was hostile to the best interests of the profession. His intellectual originality, acuteness of perception, and steady per- severance, by which he attained such distinguished re- putation and success, were connected with an amenity and gentleness of disposition, that endeared him to the circle of his friends and the society in which he moved. An excellent portrait and striking like- ness of Sir Charles Bell was painted by B. Mantyne, of which an engraving by Thomson will be found in the third volume of Pettigrew's Medical Portrait Gallery. BELL, Henry, the first successful applier of steam to the purposes of navigation in Europe, was born at Torphichen in Linlithgowshire, April 7, 1767. He was sprung from a race of mechanics, being the fifth son of Patrick Bell and Margaret Easton, whose ancestors, through several descents, were alike well known in the neighbourhood as ingenious mill- wrights and builders; some of them having also dis- tinguished themselves in the erection of public works, such as harbours, bridges, &c, not only in Scotland, but also in the other divisions of the United Kingdom. Henry Bell, after receiving a plain education at the parish school, began in 1780 to learn the handicraft of a stone-mason. Three years after he changed his views in favour of the other craft of the family, and was apprenticed to his uncle, who practised the art of a mill-wright. At the termination of his engage- ment he went to Borrowstounness for the purpose of being instructed in ship-modelling; and in 1 7> 7 to engaged with Mr. James Inglis, engineer at Pells- hill, with the view of completing his knowledge of mechanics. He afterwards went to London, where hewas employed by the celebrated Mr. Rennie; - 1 that his opportunities of acquiring a practical a with the higher branches of his art were alt< gcthcr very considerable. About the year 1790 Bell returned t • S< and it is said that he practised for several yi Glasgow the unambitious craft of a hou.-e-car] He was entered, October 20. 1707. a- a n ei the corporation of wrights in that city. It wa« wish to become an un ( das' rks in but either fi :.. a letici :::cy ut nS HENRY BELL. from want of steady application, he never succeeded to any extent in that walk. "The truth is," as we have been informed, "Bell had many of the features of the enthusiastic projector — never calculated means to ends, or looked much farther than the first stages or movements of any scheme. His mind was a chaos of extraordinary projects, the most of which, from his want of accurate scientific calculation, he never could carry into practice. Owing to an imperfection in even his mechanical skill, he scarcely ever made one part of a model suit the rest, so that many designs, after a great deal of pains and expense, were succes- sively abandoned. He was, in short, the hero of a thousand blunders and one success." It may easily be conceived that a mechanician open to this description could not succeed, to any great extent, as either a designer or executor of what are called public works. The idea of propelling vessels by means of steam early took possession of his mind. "In 1800 (he writes) I applied to Lord Melville, on purpose to show his lordship and the other members of the admiralty the practicability and great utility of applying steam to the propelling of vessels against winds and tides, and every obstruction on rivers and seas where there was depth of water. After duly thinking over the plan, the lords of that great establishment were of opinion that the plan proposed would be of no value in promoting transmarine navigation." lie repeated the attempt in 1S03, with the same result, notwith- standing the emphatic declaration of the celebrated Lord Nelson, who, addressing their lordships on the occasion, said, "My lords, if you do not adopt Mr. Bell's scheme, other nations will, and in the end vex every vein of this empire. It will succeed (he afkled), and you should encourage Mr. Bell." Hav- ing obtained no support in this country, Bell for- warded copies of the prospectus of his scheme to the different nations of Europe, and to the United States of America. "The Americans," he writes, "were the first who put my plan into practice, and were quickly followed by other nations." Mr. Watt him- self had no faith in the practicability of applying his own great discovery to the purpose of navigation. In a letter addressed to Mr. Bell he said, "How many noblemen, gentlemen, and engineers have puzzled their brains, and spent their thousands of pounds, and none of all these, nor yourself, have been able to bring the power of steam in navigation to a successful issue." The various attempts which pre- ceded that of Bell are briefly noticed in the follow- ing extract from the Fifth Report of the Select Commit- tee of the House of Commons on Steamboats, fune, 1822: Sir Henry Parnell, Chairman. Mentioning the following as experimenters, namely, Mr. Jonathan Hulls, in 1736; the Duke of Bridgewater, on the Manchester and Runcorn canal; Mr. Miller of Dals- winton; the Marquisde Jouffroy (a French nobleman), in l7een extended to Australia and the Cape of Good Hope, thus uniting Great Britain to her most distant dependencies by new and powerful ties, and literally realizing the vivid description of George Canning, who, dilating on the benefits of steam- navigation, several years before the death of Bell, described it as "that new and mighty power, new at least in the application of its might, which walks the water like a giant, rejoicing in its course, stem- ming alike the tempest and the tide — accelerating intercourse — shortening distances — creating, as it were, unexpected neighbourhoods, and new com- binations of social and commercial relations, and giving to the fickleness of winds, and the faithless- ness of waves, the certainty and steadiness of a high- way upon the land." Whilst commerce and civiliza- tion were thus making rapid progress by means of his invention, Henry Bell reaped no personal advan- tage from it. He even approached the confines of old age in very straitened circumstances. Touched by his condition, the late Dr. Cleland, and a number of other benevolent individuals, commenced a sub- scription on his behalf, by which a considerable sum was raised. The trustees on the river Clyde granted him an annuity of ,£100, which was continued to his widow. This was but a becoming acknow- ledgment of the value of his great invention on the part of the trustees of a river whose annual revenue was increased, mainly by the impulse given to its trade by steam-navigation, from ,£6676 in 1810, the year before Bell commenced the construction of the Comet, to ,£20,296 in 1830, the year in which he died; and which has been more than tripled during the subsequent twenty-two years, being in 1852 ,£76,000. Within t he same space of time, the channel of the river has undergone a corresponding improvement, being rendered navigable by ships of 700 and Soo tons burden; whereas, little more than half a century ago it was navigable only by coal gabbards and vessels of 30 to 45 tons. The average available depth of the Clyde at high water of neap tides is 16 feet, with an additional depth of two or three feet at spring-tides. At the Broomielaw, the harbour of Glasgow, there are now 10,000 lineal feet of quayage, giving accommodation to hundreds of the largest ships belonging to the mercantile marine of this and foreign countries. Mr. Bell died at Helensburgh, March 14, 1830, aged sixty-three, and lies buried in the Row churchyard. An obelisk to his memory was erected on the rock of Dunglass, a promontory on the Clyde, about 2^ miles above Dunbarton. BELL, James. This indefatigable geographer was bom in 1769, in Jedburgh. His father, the Rev. Thomas Bell, minister of a Relief congregation in that town, and afterwards of Dovehill Chapel in Glasgow, was a man of great worth and considerable learning, and the author of a Treatise on the Cave- nants, and several other pieces of a theological kind. In his childhood and youth the subject of our memoir suffered much sickness, and gave little promise either of bodily or mental vigour; but, as he grew up, his constitution improved, and he began to evince that irresistible propensity to reading, or rather devouring all books that came in his way, which ever afterwards marked his character. It was fortunate for him that he was not bereft of his natural guardian until he was considerably advanced in life, for he was quite unfit to push his own way in the world, the uncommon simplicity of his character rendering him the easy dupe of the designing and knavish. He indeed entered into business for a short time, as a manufacturer, with his characteristic ardour, but finding himself unsuccessful, he betook himself to another and more laborious mode of making a livelihood, but one for which he was far better qualified, namely, the private teaching of Greek and Latin to advanced students. But as his father, with parental prudence, had settled a small annuity upon him, he was enabled to devote a con- siderable portion of his time to those studies and researches to which his natural inclination early led him, and which he only ceased to prosecute with his life. Mr. Bell used to advert with feelings of peculiar satisfaction to the meetings of a little weekly society which, during this period of his history, were held at his house and under his auspices, and at which the members read essays and debated ques- tions for their mutual entertainment and improve- ment. On all these occasions, Mr. Bell never failed to contriluite his full share to the evening's proceed- ings, and, when fairly excited, would astonish and delight his associates, particularly the younger part of them, with the extent and variety of his learning, and the astonishing volubility with which he poured forth the treasures of his capacious and well-furnished mind on almost every possible topic of speculation or debate. Mr. Bell's first appearance as an author was made about the year 1S15, when he contributed several valuable chapters to the Glasgcno Geop-afhy—a work which had an extensive circulation, publi.-died in fi\e volumes Svo, by the house of Khull, Blackie, ^v Co., and which became the foundation of Mr. I! ll's System ofTopular and Scientifie Ge \ ra/ hy. 1 n 1 1^24 he published — in conjunction with a young Glasgow linguist of great promise, named John Bell, died January 1. 1S26, but no relative « f tl - •■ of this memoir — a thin Svo v .1 1 me. en! tl< : ( "..'.'- eal Researches in Phi!olo,y and <,. -."'.'.'■ ' ■ : ' philologist contributed, two articles to t the one a ''Review of Jones' Crai ::...' other a "Review of an Arabic \ : ;• and Index to Richardson's Arabic C.mnm :. b\ Noble, Teacher of Languages, in ! 1 of which are characterized by a mil with the subjects under discu.-siun. 1 he gi jzraj hers 120 JAMES BELL JOHN BELL. contribution consisted of a very elaborate "Examina- tion of the Various Opinions that in Modern Times have been held respecting the Sources of the Ganges, and the Correctness of the Lamas' Map of Thibet," which elicited high encomiums from some of the leading periodicals of the day. Geography was the science around which as a nucleus all his sympathies gathered, as if by an in- voluntary and irresistible tendency. To it he con- secrated the labour of his life; it was the favourite study of his earlier years, and his old age continued to be cheered by it. In everything belonging to this science there was a marvellous quickness and ac- curacy of perception — an extreme justness of observa- tion and inference about him. When the conversa- tion turned upon any geographical subject, his ideas assumed a kind of poetical inspiration, and flowed on in such unbroken and close succession, as to leave no opportunity to his auditors of interposing a question or pursuing a discussion. Once engaged, there was no recalling him from his wild excursive range — on he went, revelling in the intensity of his own enjoyment, and bearing his hearers along with him over chains of mountains and lines of rivers, until they became utterly bewildered by the rapidity with which the physical features of every region of the globe were made to pass in panoramic succession before them. From his childhood Mr. Bell had been subject to severe attacks of asthma. These gradually assumed a more alarming character, and ultimately compelled him to leave Glasgow for a residence in the country. The place which he selected for his retirement was a humble cottage in the neighbourhood of the village of Campsie, about twelve miles north of Glasgow. Here he spent the last ten or twelve years of his life m much domestic comfort and tranquillity. He was abstemious in his general habits; and his only earthly regret — at least the only one which he deemed of sufficient consequence to make matter of conversation — was the smallness of his library, and his want of access to books. Yet it is astonish- ing how little in the republic either of letters or of science he allowed to escape him. His memory was so retentive, that nothing which he had once read was ever forgotten by him. This extraordinary faculty enabled him to execute his literary commis- sions with a much more limited apparatus of books, than to others less gifted would have been an indis- pensable requisite. The closing scene of Mr. Bell's life was calm and peacefuL He had, as already mentioned, long suffered violently from asthma. This painful disease gradually gained upon his constitution, and became more severe in its periodical attacks, and the ex- hausted powers of nature finally sunk in the struggle. He expired on the 3d of May, 1833, in the sixty- fourth year of his age, and was buried, at his own express desire, in the old churchyard of Campsie — a beautiful and sequestered spot. In forming an estimate of Mr. Bell's literary character, we must always keep in view the diffi- culties with which he had to struggle in his unwearied pursuit of knowledge. He was without fortune, without powerful friends, and destitute, to a great extent, of even the common apparatus of a scholar. He laboured also under defects of physical organisa- tion which would have chilled and utterly repressed any mind less ardent and enthusiastic than his own in the pursuit of knowledge: yet he surmounted every obstacle, and gained for himself a distinguished place among British geographers, in despite both of liis hard fortune and infirm health. Many men have made a more brilliant display with inferior talents and fewer accomplishments; but none ever possessed a more complete mastery over their favourite science, and could bring to any related task a greater amount of accurate and varied knowledge. That he was an accomplished classical scholar is apparent from the immense mass of erudite allusions which his writings present ; but he was not an exact scholar. He knew little of the niceties of language; his compositions are often inelegant and incorrect; he had no idea of elaborating the expression of his thoughts, but wrote altogether without attention to effect, and as if there were no such things as order in thinking and method in composition. It would be doing him injustice, however, while on this point, not to allow that his later writings exhibit a closer connection of ideas, and greater succinctness of mental habits than his earlier productions. Besides the earlier publications already adverted to, Mr. Bell edited an edition of Rollings Ancient History including the volume on the "Arts and Sciences of the Ancients." This work, published in Glasgow, in three closely printed octavo volumes, bears ample evidence to the industry, research, and sagacity of the editor. The notes are of great extent, and many of them, on the geography of the ancients, on the bearing of history on prophecy, more particu- larly the prophecies of Daniel, or such notes as those on the retreat of the ten thousand Greeks, the march of Hannibal across the Alps, and the ruins of Babylon, amount to discussions of considerable length. His other great work was his System of Geography, of which it is sufficient to say, that it has been pro- nounced decidedly superior as a popular work to that of Malte Brun, and on this account was subse- quently republished in America. In this country it obtained a very extensive circulation. The prepara- tion of these works, and of materials left incomplete for a General Gazetteer, occupied a great many years of Mr. Bell's life. He also took a lively interest in the success of several scientific periodicals, and aided their progress by numerous valuable contributions from his own pen. In all his writings, from the causes already assigned, there is too little effort at analysis and compression. Much might with advan- tage have been abridged, and much pared off. In his System of Geography, he occasionally borrowed the correcting pen of a friend, hence its composition is more regulated and chastened. Mr. Bell's moral characterwas unimpeachable. He was remarkable for plain, undissembling honesty, and the strictest regard to truth. In all that con- stituted practical independence of character, he was well furnished; he could neither brook dependence nor stoop to complaint. He was in the strictest sense of the word a pious mam He concurred with his whole heart in that interpretation of the doctrines of the Bible commonly called the Calvinistic; but in no sense of the word was he sectarian in spirit; he had no bigotry or intolerance of opinion on reli- gious points, although few could wield the massive weapons of theological controversy with greater vigour and effect. BELL, John, of Antermony, a traveller of the eighteenth century, was the son of Patrick Bell, the representative of that old and respectable family, and of Anabel Stirling, daughter of Mungo .Stilling of Craigbarnet. He was born in 1691, and, after receiving a classical education, turned his attention to the study of medicine. On passing as physician, he determined to visit foreign countries, but we shall insert this part of his history in Mr. Bell's own words. "In my youth," says he, "I had a strong desire of seeing foreign parts; to satisfy which inclination, after having obtained, from some persons of worth, JOHN BELL. recommendatory letters to Dr. Areskine, chief physician and privy counsellor to the Czar Peter I., I embarked at London, in the month of July, 17 14, on board the Prosperity of Ramsgate, Captain Emerson, for St. Petersburg. On my arrival there, I was received by Dr. Areskine in a very friendly manner, to whom I communicated my intentions of seeking an opportunity of visiting some parts of Asia, at least those parts which border on Russia. Such an opportunity soon presented itself, on occasion of an embassy then preparing from his czarish majesty to the Sophy of Persia." — {Preface to his Travels. ) The ambassador fortunately applied to Dr. Areskine to recommend some one skilled in physic and surgery to go in his suite, and Mr. Bell was soon afterwards engaged in the service of the Russian emperor. He accordingly left St. Petersburg on the 15th of July, 1715, and proceeded to Moscow, from thence to Cazan, and down the Volga to Astracan. The embassy then sailed down the Caspian Sea to Derbend, and journeyed by Mougan, Tauris, and Saba, to Ispahan, where they arrived on the 14th of March, 1 71 7. They left that city on the 1st of September, and returned to St. Petersburg on the 30th December, 1 7 18, after having travelled across the country from Saratoff. On his arrival in the capital, Mr. Bell found that his friend and patron Dr. Areskine had died about six weeks before, but he had now secured the friendship of the ambassa- dor, and upon hearing that an embassy to China was preparing, he easily obtained an appointment in it through his influence. The account of his journey to Cazan, and through Siberia to China, is by far the most complete and interesting part of his travels. His description of the manners, customs, and super- stitions of the inhabitants, and of the Delay-lama and Chinese wall, deserve particularly to be noticed. They arrived at Pekin "after a tedious journey of exactly sixteen months." Mr. Bell has left a very full account of occurrences during his residence in the capital of China. The embassy left that city on the 2d of March, 1721, and arrived at Moscow on the 5th of January, 1722. The war between Russia and Sweden was now concluded, and the czar had determined to under- take an expedition into Persia, at the request of the sophy, to assist that prince against the Aflghans, his subjects, who had seized upon Kandahar, and pos- sessed themselves of several provinces on the frontiers towards India. Mr. Bell's former journey to Persia gave him peculiar advantages, and he was accord- ingly engaged to accompany the army to Derbent, from which he returned in December, 1722. Soon afterwards he revisited his native country, and re- turned to St. Petersburg in 1734. In 1737 he was sent to Constantinople by the Russian chancellor, and Mr. Rondeau the British minister at the Russian court. 1 He seems now to have abandoned the public service, and to have settled at Constantinople as a merchant. About 1746 he married Mary Peters, a Russian lady, and determined to return to Scotland. He spent the latter part of his life on his estate, and in the enjoyment of the society of his friends. At length, after a long life spent in active beneficence, and exertions for the good of mankind, he died at Antermony on the 1st of July, 1 780, at the advanced age of eighty-nine. The only work written by Mr. Bell is his Travels from St. Petersburg in Russia to various farts of Asia, to which reference has already been made. It was printed in 2 volumes quarto by Robert and Andrew Foulis, in 1763. and published by subscrip- 1 M-Ure's //«/ of GUugo'j.', new cditi'. tion. "The history of this book," says the Quarterly Review, "is somewhat curious, and not generally known. For many years after Mr. Bell returned from his travels, he used to amuse his friends with accounts of what he had seen, refreshing his recollec- tion from a simple diary of occurrences and observa- tions. The Earl Granville, then president of the council, on hearing some of his adventures, prevailed on him to throw his notes together into the form of a narrative, which, when done, pleased him so much that he sent the manuscript to Dr. Robertson, with a particular request that he would revise and put it into a fit state for the press. The literary avocations of the Scottish historian at that time not allowing him to undertake the task, he recommended Mr? Barron, a professor in the university of Aberdeen, and on this gentleman consulting Dr. Robertson as to the style and the book of travels which he would recommend him to adopt for his guide, the historian replied, 'Take Gullivers Travels for your model, and you cannot go wrong.' He did so, and 'Pell's Travels' have all the simplicity of Gulliver, with the advantage which truth always carries over fiction." 3 BELL, John, an eminent surgeon in Edinburgh, and of distinguished literary qualifications, was born in 1 762. I le was the second son of the Rev. William Bell, a clergyman of the Scottish Episcopal Church, established at Edinburgh. His mother was the daughter of Mr. Morrice, also a member of the Scottish Episcopal Church. Mr. John Bell, after receiving a liberal education, became the pupil of Mr. Alexander Wood, surgeon, who was long cele- brated in Edinburgh as a medical practitioner. From the first, Mr. Bell devoted himself to his pro- fessional studies with that enthusiastic ardour so characteristic of genius, and almost always the pre- cursor of distinction. After completing his profes- sional education, he travelled for a short time in Russia and the north of Europe; and on his return commenced his professional duties by delivering lectures on surgery and midwifery. These lectures, which he delivered between the years i7S6and 1796, were very highly esteemed, and speedily brought him into practice as a consulting and operating surgeon. The increase of his private practice, in- deed, rendered it necessary for him, in 1796, to discontinue his lectures, and from that time forward he devoted himself to his patients, and to the pre- paration of his several publications. For upwards of twenty years Mr. Bell may be said to have stood at the head of his profession in Edinburgh as an operator. Patients came to him from all quarters, both of Scotland and England, and even from the Continent, and (.hiring that interval he performed some of the most delicate and difficult operations in surgery. Nor was his celebrity a mfincd to Edinburgh. He was generally known, both in this country and throughout the world, as one of the most distinguished men in his profession; and his works show that his reputation was well founded. Early in 1S16 he was thrown by a spirited horse, and appears never to have entirely recovered from the effects of the accident. In the autumn of that year he made an excursion, partly on account of P. is health, to London; thence he proceeded to Paris, and afterwards pursued his journey southwards, visit- ing the most distinguished cities oi Italy. During hi=> residence on the Continent, he was treated most flattering manner by the mem 1 .* is ol his own science; and his countrvmen, wh . peace C- .:i M' JOHN BELL WILLIAM BELLENDEN. of 1815, had gone to the Continent in great num- bers, gladly took his surgical assistance. In Paris, Naples, and Rome in particular, his numerous patients occupied him perhaps too exclusively; for his health continued to decline, and he died at Rome, April 15, 1820, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. Mr. Bell very early in life became impressed with a high notion of the advantage of combining general accomplishments with professional skill; he there- fore spared no pains to qualify himself in every way to assume a favourable position in society. He was a good classical scholar, and so general a reader that there were few works of any note in literature, either ancient or modern, with which he was not familiar. This was remarkably shown in his library, in which there was hardly a volume on any subject which did not bear traces of having been carefully perused and noted by him. His practice was to make annota- tions on the margin as he read; and considering the engrossing nature of his professional labours, and the several works in which he was himself engaged, nothing is more extraordinary than the evidence which is still in existence of the extent and variety of his miscellaneous reading. The information which he thus acquired was not lost upon him; he was polished and easy in his man- ners, his perception of the ludicrous was keen, and the tact with which he availed himself of his exten- sive reading and general knowledge of all the in- teresting topics of the day will be long remembered by those who had the pleasure of his acquaintance. His conversational powers, indeed, were of the very highest order; and as he had great urbanity and kind- ness of manner, and was happily free from that affec- tation by which good talkers are sometimes distin- guished, there were few of his contemporaries whose society was more generally courted by the upper classes in Edinburgh, and none who were better fitted to adorn and enliven the circle in which he moved. Mr. Bell's notions of the dignity of his profession were very high, and no man perhaps ever discharged his professional duties with more disinterested huma- nity and honourable independence. His genero- sity to those whose circumstances required pecuniary aid was well known, and his contempt for anything approaching to what he thought mean or narrow- minded was boundless, and frequently expressed in no very measured terms. The warmth of his temper, however, involved him in several misunderstandings with his professional brethren; the most remark- able of which was that which brought him and Dr. Gregory into collision. The question on which these two distinguished men took opposite sides related to the right of the junior members of the College of Surgeons of Edinburgh to perform opera- tions in the Royal Infirmary. This dispute divided the medical men of Edinburgh towards the close of the last century; and Dr. Gregory and Mr. Bell wrote several volumes about it. But, although great wit and much happy sarcasm were displayed on both sides, it is impossible to look back to this dissension without feeling regret that two of the most eminent medical men of their day should have wasted their ingenuity and high talents in acrimonious and un- profitable controversy, on a topic of ephemeral in- terest and comparatively minor importance. Mr. Bell's principal publication in this controversy was entitled Letters on Professional Character and Man- ners: on the Education of a Surgeon, and the J)nties and Qualifications of a Physician; addressed to fames Gregory, M.I). Edinburgh, 1S10. It is a large octavo volume, and is characterized by extraordinary aenmonv. In the fine arts, Mr. Bell's taste was very correct. As a painter and draughtsman his talents were far above mediocrity; and the anatomical drawings by which his works are illustrated have been much ad- mired. He was also a proficient in music, with more taste, however, than execution; and as Mrs. Bell was also a highly accomplished musician, his musical parties, although conducted on a scale of expense which his circumstances hardly warranted, assembled at his house the elite of Edinburgh society. He had no family, and his whole house was laid out for this species of display — a foible which those who were inclined to laugh at his expense did not overlook, and which was to a certain extent censurable, since his income, although very large, was never equal to his expenditure. Mr. Bell's personal appearance was good. Al- though considerably under the middle size, he was exceedingly well proportioned, very active and studi- ously elegant in his movements. His head was well formed, his features regular, his eyes keen and pene- trating, and his whole expression intellectual and in- telligent in no ordinary degree. He was also re- markable for the good taste which he exhibited in his dress; and was altogether a person whom even a stranger could not have passed without recognizing as no ordinary man. The limits of this work do not admit of an analysis of Mr. Bell's writings. The best is his treatise on Gunshot Wounds, to enable him to prepare which he passed some weeks amongst the wounded men of Lord Duncan's fleet, after the battle of Camperdown. The following is a complete list of his professional works: — 1. The Anatomy of the Human Body, vol. i. 8vo, 1793, containing the Bones, Muscles, and Joints; vol. ii. 1 797, containing the Heart and Arteries ; vol. iii. 1802, containing the Anatomy of the Brain, Description of the Course of the Nerves, and the Ana- tomy of the Eye and Ear; with Plates by Charles Bell, third edition, 3 vols. 8vo, 181 1. 2. Engrav- ings of the Bones, Muscles, and Joints, illustrating the first volume of the Anatomy of the Human Body, drawn and engraved by himself, royal 4_to, 1794, third edition. 3. Eugra7'ings of the Arteries, illus- trating the second volume of the Anatomy of the Human Body, royal 4to, 1801; third edition, Svo, 1 8 10. ^.Discourses on the Naturcand ' Cure of 'Wounds, Svo, 1795; third edition, 1812. 5. Answer for the Junior Members of the Royal College of Surgeons to the Memorial of Dr. James Gregory, to the Managers of the Royal Infirmary, Svo, 1800. 6. The Prin- ciples of Surgery, 3 vols. 4to, 1S01-1808. 7. Letters on Professional Character, &c. I lis Observations on Italy is a posthumous work, which was edited by his respected friend Bishop Sandford of Edin- burgh. Mr. Bell married Miss Congleton, daughter of Dr. Congleton of Edinburgh. His eldest brother was Robert Bell, advocate, professor of convey- ancing to the Society of Writers to the Signet; author of the Scotch Line Dictionary, and of several other works on the law of Scotland; who died in 1816. John bell's immediately younger brothers were, George [oseph Bell, advocate, professor of the law of Scotland in the university of Edinburgh, and author of Commentaries 011 the Law of Scotland, a work of high authority ; and Sir Charles Bell, F.R.S. of London, the distinguished anatomist and physiologist. It is rare to find so many members of the same family so favourably known to the public. BELLENDEN, Wn.U am, morecommonly known by his Latin name of Gulielmus Bellendenus, is one WILLIAM BELLENDEN. 123 of those Scotsmen of a former age, who are esteemed in the general literary world as an honour to their country, but with whom that country itself is scarcely at all acquainted. As there were many great but unrecorded heroes before Agamemnon, so may it be said that there have flourished, out 0/ Scotland, many illustrious Scot-men, whose names have not been celebrated in that country. It is time, however, that tliis should cease to be the case, at least in reference to William Bellenden, whose intellect appears to have been one of most extraordinary character, and whose intellectual efforts, if in a shape to command more extensive appreciation, would certainly be considered a great addition to those productions which reflect honour upon his native country. William Bellenden was unquestionably a member of that family whose name has been variously spelled Ballenden, Baliantyn, and latterly Ballantyne, and which has produced several men eminent in Scottish literature. He lived in the reign of James VI., to whom he was Magister Supplieum Libellorum, or reader of private petitions, an office probably con- ferred upon him in consideration of his eminent learning. King James, whose many regal faults were in some measure redeemed by his love of literature and patronage of literary men, provided Bellenden with the means of leading a life of studious retire- ment at the French capital, where he is said to have afterwards become professor of humanity, and an advocate in the parliament of Paris. Bellenden's first work, entitled Ciceroni's Princeps, and published, apparently without his name, in 160S, is a treatise on the duties of a prince, formed oat of passages of the works of Cicero referring to that subject. To the Ciceroni's Princeps, in which Bellenden has only the merit of an ingenious collector, was prefixed an original essay, styled Tractatits de Proeessu et Scriptoribus Rei Politico, in which there is a rich vein of masculine sense and fervent piety, while the origin of our errors in religion, and of our defects in policy and learning, is traced out with considerable accuracy and erudition. In this treatise, the author, while he condemns the monstrous tenets of ancient idolatry, and the gross corruptions of philosophy, bestows many just encomiums on the wisdom and patriotism of some ancient legislators. Bellenden next published a treatise, formed like the foregoing from detached passages in Cicero, re- garding the duties of the consul, senator, and senate among the Romans. It was entitled Ciceroni's Con- sul, Senator, Populusque Romanus: illustralus publici o ! >sc>~uit;one juris, gravissimi usus disciplind, admin- istrandi temperata ratione: notatis inclinationibus tern forum in Rep. et actis rerum in Senatu : quce a Ciceroniana nondum edita projluxere memoria, an- n rum DCCX. congesla in libros .rz'i. De statu rerum Romanorum unde jam manavit Ciceroni's Princeps, die mis habitus summorum lectione principum. Bel- lenden has here shown, not only the duties of a senator or statesman, but upon what basis the rights of a free but jealous people are erected, and the hallowed care those institutions demand which have descended to us from our ancestors. This work was published at Paris in 1612, and, like the former, was dedicated to Henry, Prince of Wales. On the title-page the author is termed '".Master Supplicum Libellorum augusti Regis Magnae Britannia?,"' from which it would appear that either there is a mistake in describing him as master of requests to the King of Scotland, or he must have been subsequently pre- ferred to the same office for (beat Britain. The office, since he reside 1 at Paris, must have been a sinecure, and was probably given to him as a means ot sustainiiiL: him in literary leisure. The next work of Bellenden was entitled De Statu Prisci Or/as, in Religione, Re J'olitna, et /uteris, liter units. It was printed, but may scarcely l>e described as published, in 161 5. This is the most original of Bellenden's works. The expressions and sentiments are all his own, excepting the quotations which he- takes occasion to introduce from his favourite Cicero. In this work he has "brought to light, from the most remote antiquity, many facts which had been buried in oblivion. Whatever relates to the di-ci- pline of the Persians and Egyptians, which was obscure in itself, and very variously dispersed, he- has carefully collected, placed in one uniform point of view, and polished with diligent acuteness. In a manner the most plain and satisfactory, he has described the first origin of states, their progressive political advances, and how they differed from each other. Those fabulous inventions with which Greece has encumbered history, he explains and refutes. Philosophy owes him much. He has confuted all those systems which were wild and extravagant, and removed the difficulties from such as were in their operation subservient to religious piety. But he ha- in particular confirmed and dignified, with every assistance of solid argument, whatever tended to serve the great truths of revelation. Much, how- ever, as he has been involved in the gloom of ancient times, he in no one instance assumes the character of a cold unfeeling antiquary; he never employs his talents upon those intricate and useless questions, in endeavouring to explain which many luckless and idle theologists torment themselves and lose their labour. The style of Bellendenus, in this perform- ance, is perspicuous, and elegant without affectation. The different parts of the work are so well and so judiciously disposed, that we meet with nothing harsh and dissonant, no awkward interval or interrup- tion, nothing placed where it ought not to remain." 1 All these three works — namely, the Princeps, the Consul, and the De Statu Prisci Orbis — were repub- lished in 1616 in a united form, under the general title De Statu, Libri Tres. Prince Henry being now dead, the whole work was dedicated anew to his surviving brother Charles; a circumstance which afforded the author an opportunity of paying an ingenious compliment to the latter prince: " Uno avulso non deficit .-liter. Aureus, et simili frondescit virg.i n.etall Of the justness of this eulogy the politician may have some doubt, but the man of feeling will be captivated by its elegance and pathos. The last work which Bellenden himself published is of very small extent, consisting merely of two short poems: Carol i Prinii et Hcnricce MariiF, Regis et Regiuce Jfag/iie Britanniir, cce. Epithalamium : el in ipsas augustissinias nuptias, Panegvricum Ca et Elogia. Paris, 1675,410. It would appear that Bellenden did not soon forget the kind patr which he had experienced from King lame-. 1 ut transferred his gratitude, with his loyalty, to the descendants of that prince. This is the only ki specimen of Bellenden's effort- in poetry. The De Statu, Libri Tres, which perha] - w re never very extensively diffused, ha«l '■ so extremely scarce, as only to be known :\ 1 to the most of scholars. From this o!>- I work was rescued in 1 7S7, by I>r. Saint: I Pa: . most eminent British I. at;:::-: o! m I 'r. Parr republished it in an elegant f rm, v. ith a pi which, though embracing a »:ngul jects, and not free f. ... trv. is 1 i'a.-r'= I're:'. -.. 124 WILLIAM BELLENDEN ■ WILLIAM BERRY. justly looked upon as one of the most admirable specimens of modern Latin which we possess. Imi- tating the example of Bellendenus, who prefixed a dedication to each of his three books, the learned editor inscribed them anew to three great men of modern times, Edward Burke, Lord North, and Charles James Fox, who were then the leaders of his own party in British politics. In the preface he introduced a high allegorical eulogy upon these statesmen, which was admired as a singularly nervous piece of composition, though there were, of course, different opinions as to the justness of the panegyric. He also exposed the plagiary which Middleton, in composing his Life of Cicero, had committed upon the splendid stores of Bellenden. While Bellenden was employed in writing his tripartite work, De Statu, he had Cicero constantly before him. "His warmest attachment, and in- creasing admiration," to quote the words of Ur. Parr, "were necessarily attracted to the character whose writings were the object of his unremitting attention; whose expressions were as familiar to him as possible; and whose various and profound learning occupied all the faculties of his soul." He now commenced a still more extensive and laborious cento of the writings of the Roman orator, which he concluded in sixteen books, and which, with the addition of similar centoes of the writings of Seneca and Pliny the Elder, was to bear the name, De Tribus Lumiiiibus Romanorum. The Ciceronian cento, the only one he lived to complete, is justly considered a most extraordinary performance. By an exertion of fictitious machinery, akin to the modern historical romance, Cicero is introduced as if he had spoken or written the whole from begin- ning to end. The first seven books give a very con- cise abstract of the Roman history, from the founda- tion of the city to the 647th year, in which he was born. Then he becomes more particular in the account of his own times, and enlarges very fully on all that happened after his first appearance in public business. He gives an account of the most remark- able of his orations and epistles, and the occasions on which they were written, as also of such of his philosophical works as have come down to us, and of some other pieces that are now lost, ending with a letter he is supposed to have written to Octavianus, afterwards named Augustus, which letter, however, is supposed to be spurious. There cannot be a more complete history of the life of Cicero, or of the tumultuous times in which he lived, than this work, all of which, by an exquisite ingenuity, is so faith- fully compiled from the known works of the orator, that probably there is not in the whole book a single expression, perhaps not a single word, which is not to be found in that great storehouse of philosophical eloquence. Nor is there any incoherence or awk- wardness in this re-arrangement of Cicero's language; but, on the contrary, the matter flows as gracefully as in the original. "Whatever we find," says Parr, "in the different writings of Cicero, elegantly ex- pressed, or acutely conceived, Bellendenus has not only collected in one view, but elucidated in the clearest manner. He, therefore, who peruses this per- formance with the attention which it merits, will possess all the treasures of antiquity, all the energy of the mightiest examples. He will obtain an adequate knowledge of the Roman law and system of juris- prudence, and may draw, as from an inexhaustible source, an abundance of expressions, the most ex- quisite in their kind." In the opinion of another critic, 1 it is inconceivable that Bellenden could have 1 The late Karl of EJuchan, who had the extraordinary for- tune to possess a copy of this rare book. composed this singular work without having the whole of the writings of Cicero, and all the collateral authorities, in his mind at once, as it must have been quite impossible to perform such a task by turning over the leaves of the books, in order to find the different expressions suited to the various occasions where they were required. After the death of Bellenden, the date of which is only known to have been posterior to 1625, the manuscript of his great work fell into the hands of one Toussaint du Bray, who printed it at Paris in 1631 or 1634, and dedicated it to King Charles I. of Great Britain. It is alleged that the principal part of the impression, about a thousand copies, was shipped for sale in Britain, and was lost on the passage, so that only a few copies survived. The work therefore fell at once into obscurity, and in a few years was scarcely known to exist. One copy having found its way to the Cambridge University Library, fell into the hands of Conyers Middleton, the keeper of that institution, who seems to have adopted the idea of making it the groundwork for a life of Cicero under his own name. Hence has arisen one of the most monstrous instances of literary plagium which modern times have witnessed. The work of Middleton at once attained to great reputa- tion, and chiefly through that skilful arrangement of the writings of the orator himself which Bellenden had provided to his hands. The theft was first denounced by Warton, and subsequently made clear by Dr. Parr in his preface to the De Statu. It is impossible to dismiss the life and singular writings of William Bellenden, without a passing expression of regret, that so much ingenuity, so much learning, so much labour, may be expended, without producing even the remuneration of a name — for Bellenden, to use a phrase of Buchanan, is a light rather than a name. His last work extended to 824 pages in folio, and he contemplated other two of similar size, and equal labour. Yet all this was so futile, that the very next generation of his own countrymen do not appear to have known that such a man ever existed. Even after all the care of bibliographers and others, which has searched out the few facts embraced by this imperfect narrative, the name of Bellenden is only known in connection with certain works, which are, it is true, reputed to be admirable of their kind, but, for every practical purpose, are almost as entirely lost to the world at large, as those libri perditi of Cicero, which he lias himself alluded to with so much regret. BERNARD, made abbot of Aberbrothock in 1303, and the first chancellor of King Robert Bruce, after his assumption of the crown in 1306, deserves a place in this work, as the supposed writer of that spirited remonstrance which the Scottish nobility and barons transmitted, in 131S, to the Roman pontiff, asserting the independency of their country. He held the great seal till his death in 1327. Crawford supposes that his surname was Linton. BERRY, Wll.LIAM, an ingenious artist, was born about the year 1730, and bred to the business of a seal-engraver. After serving an apprenticeship under a Mr. Proctor at Edinburgh, he commenced business for himself in that city, and soon became distin- guished for the elegance of his designs, and the clear- ness and sharpness of his mode of cutting. At this time the business of a stone-engraver in the Scottish capital was confined to the cutting of ordinary seals, and the most elaborate work of this kind to engraving the armorial bearings of the nobility. Mr. Berry's views were for several years confined to this common WILLIAM BERRY. 125 drudgery of his art ; but, by studying some ancient entaglios, he at length ventured into that higher walk which bears the same relation to seal-engrav- ing that historical painting does to portrait-painting. The subject he chose for his first essay was a head of Sir Isaac Newton, which he executed with such precision and delicacy, as astonished all who had an opportunity of observing it. The modesty of Mr. Berry permitted him to consign this gem to the hands of a friend in a retired situation of life, who had few opportunities of showing it to others. He resumed his wonted drudgery, and for many years "narrowed his mind" to the cutting of heraldic seals, while in reality he must have known that his genius fitted him for a competition with the highest triumphs of Italian art. When he was occasionally asked to undertake somewhat finer work, he generally found that, though he only demanded perhaps half the money which he could have earned in humbler en- graving during the same space of time, yet even that was grudged by his employers; and he therefore found that mere considerations of worldly prudence demanded his almost exclusive attention to the ordi- nary walk of his profession. Nevertheless, in the course of a few years, the impulse of genius so far overcame his scruples, that he executed various heads, any one of which would have been sufficient to insure him fame among judges of excellence in this department of art. Among these were heads of Thomson, author of The Seasons, Mary Queen of Scots, Oliver Cromwell, Julius Ccesar, a young Hercules, and Mr. Hamilton of Bangour, the well- known poet. Of these only two were copies from the antique; and they were executed in the finest style of those celebrated entaglios. The young I lercules, in particular, possessed an unaffected plain simplicity, a union of youthful innocence with strength and dignity, which struck every beholder as most appropriate to that mythological personage, while it was, at the same time, the most difficult of all expressions to be hit off by the faithful imitator of nature. Berry possessed this perceptive faculty to a degree which almost proved an obstruction, rather than a help, in his professional career. In his best performances he himself remarked defects which no one else perceived, and which he believed might have been overcome by greater exertion, if for that greater exertion he could have spared the necessary time. Thus, while others applauded his entaglios, he looked upon them with a morbid feeling of vexa- tion, arising from the sense of that struggle which his immediate personal wants constantly maintained with the nobler impulses of art, and to which his situation in the world promised no speedy cessation. This gave him an aversion to the higher department of his art, which, though indulged to his own tem- porary comfort and the advantage of his family, was most unfortunate for the world. In spite of every disadvantage, the works of Mr. Berry, few as they were in number, became gradually known in society at large; and some of his pieces were even brought into competition, by some dis- tinguished cognoscenti, with those of Piccler at Rome, who had hitherto been the unapproached sovereign of this department of the arts. Although the experience of 1'iecler was that of a constant practitioner, while Mr. Berry had only attempted a few pieces at long intervals in the course of a labo- rious life; although the former lived in a countrv where every artificial object was attuned to the prin- ciples of art, while Mr. Berry was reared in a soil remarkable for the absence of all such advantages; -the latter was by many good judges placed above his Italian contemporary. The respective works of the two artists were well known to each other; and each declared, with that manly ingenuousness which very h'&h genius alone can confer on the human mind, that the other was greatly his superior. Mr. Berry possessed not merely the art of imitat- ing busts or figures set before him, in which he could observe and copy the prominence or depression of the parts; but he possessed a faculty which presup- poses a much nicer discrimination — that of being able to execute a figure in relievo, with perfect justness in all its parts, which was copied from a painting or drawing upon a flat surface. This was fairly put to the test in the head he executed of Hamilton of Bangour. That gentleman had been dead several years, when his relations wished to have a head of him executed by Berry. The artist had himself never seen Mr. Hamilton, and there remained no picture of him but an imperfect sketch, which was by no means a strik- ing likeness. This was put into the hands of Mr. Berry by a person who had known the deceased poet, and who pointed out the defects of the resem- blance in the best way that words can be made to correct things of this nature; and from this picture, with the ideas that Mr. Berry had imbibed from the corrections, he "made a head which everyone who knew Mr. Hamilton allowed to be one of the most perfect likenesses that could be wished for. In this, as in all his works, there was a correctness in the outline, and a truth and delicacy in the expression of the features, highly emulous of the best antiques; which were, indeed, the models on which he formed his taste. The whole number of heads executed by Mr. Berry- did not exceed a dozen; but, beside the>e, he exe- cuted some full-length figures of both men and ani- mals, in his customary style of elegance. His atten- tion, however, to the interests of a numerous family made him forego those agreeable exertions, for the more lucrative though less pleasing employment of cutting heraldic seals, which formed his constant employment for forty years together. In this depart- ment he was, without dispute, the first artist of his time; but even here his modesty, and that invari- able desire of giving perfection to everything he put out of his hand, prevented him from drawing such emoluments from his labours as they deserved. Of this the following anecdote will serve as an illustra- tion, and as an additional testimony of his very great skill. Henry, Duke of Buccleuch, on succeeding to his title and estates, was desirous of having a seal cut, with his arms properly blazoned upon it. But, as there were no fewer than thirty-two compartments in the shield, which was of necessity confined to a very small space, so as to leave room for the sup- porters and other ornaments, within the compass of a seal of ordinary size, he found it a matter of great difficulty to get it executed. Though a native of Scotland himself, the noble duke had no idea that there was a man of first-rate eminence in this art in Edinburgh; and accordingly he had applied to t lie best seal-engravers in London and Paris, all of whom declared it to be beyond their skill. At this time Berry was mentioned to him with such powerful re- commendations that he was induced to 1 ay him a visit, and found him, as usual, seati 1 at his •■ The gentleman who had mentioned Mr. Berry s name to the duke accompanied him on his v;s:t. This person, without introducing the duk . Mr. Berry the impression of a shield which the duchess-dowager had got cut a good many years before by a Jew in London, now den !. ai ; which had been shown to < thers as a pattern; n-king him if he would cut a seal the «ame as ti at. After examining it a little, Mr. Berry an.-wered readily 126 ALEXANDER BETHUNE. that he would. The duke, at once pleased and astonished, exclaimed, "Will you, indeed!" Mr. Berry, who thought that this implied some doubt of his ability to perform what he undertook, was a little piqued, and turning round to the duke, whom he had never before seen, he said, "Yes, sir; if I do not make a better seal than this, I will charge no payment for it." The duke, highly pleased, left the pattern with Mr. Berry, and went away. The original contained, indeed, the various devices of the thirty-two compartments distinctly enough to be seen; but none of the colours were expressed. Mr. Berry, in proper time, finished the seal; on which the figures were not only done with superior elegance, but the colours on every part so distinctly marked that a painter could delineate the whole, or a herald blazon it, with perfect accuracy. For this extra- ordinary and most ingenious labour he charged no more than thirty-two guineas, though the pattern seal had cost seventy-five. Thus it was, that, though possessed of talents unequalled in their kind, at least in Britain, and assiduity not to be surpassed — observing at the same time the strictest economy in his domestic arrangements — Mr. Berry died at last, in circumstances far from affluent, June 3, 1783, in the fifty-third year of his age, leaving a numerous family of children. It had been the lot of this in- genious man to toil unceasingly for a whole life, with nit obtaining any other reward than the common boon of mere subsistence, while his abilities, in another sphere, or in an age more qualified to ap- preciate and employ them, might have enabled him to attain at once to fame and fortune in a very few years. His art, it may be remarked, has made no particular progress in Scotland in consequence of his example. The genius of Berry was solitary, both in respect of place and time, and has never been rivalled by any other of his countrymen. It must be recorded, to the honour of this unrequited genius, that his character in private life was as amiable and unassuming as his talents were great; and that his conduct on all occasions was ruled by the strictest principles of honour and integrity. BETHUNE, Alexander. This man, and his younger brother John, were choice specimens.of that intellectual class of Scottish peasantry in which our country happily abounds, and of which it is so justly proud. Alexander, the subject of the present notice, was born at Upper Rankeillor, in the parish of Monimail, in July 1S04. Such was the extreme domestic poverty in which he was reared, that he could not even obtain the ordinary share of a Scottish peasant's education; his whole portion in this respect being four or five months' attendance at a subscrip- tion school, when he was in his sixth year. But his mother was a remarkable woman, and it was from her that the two brothers mainly derived their educa- tion, as well as their energetic intellectual character. At the raw age of fourteen he was set to break stones on the highway, a strong man's occupation, by which his tender bones and muscles were sorely tried; and at the age of twenty-one he was enabled, from the savings of his scanty pay, to enrol himself in the evening classes of a school at the hamlet of Lochend, near Lindores. Naturally desirous of emerging from his uncomfortable position, he betook himself to weaving with his brother John, but scarcely had they managed to procure the necessary apparatus, when the mercantile depression of 1825 and 1826 compelled them to abandon their hopes of the loom, and take occupation as out-door labourers at the wages of a shilling a-day. Thus employed in such chance toil as he could obtain, Alexander, in 1829, while employed in a quarry, was thrown into the air by a blast of gunpowder, and so dreadfully mangled that his recovery was thought hopeless. Three years after a disaster of the same character befell him, but still more severe, by which he was frightfully disfigured, and the effects of which he felt till the end of his days. Such a scanty education, and subsequent life of hardship and penury, were little calculated to foster the cultivation of literature: but Alexander Bethune was no ordinary character; and those difficulties which in others would have extinguished such ambi- tion, only confirmed his resolution, and strengthened him for the work. Accordingly, while breaking stones on the highway, or blasting huge masses in the quarry, he had never failed at every interval to enlarge his knowledge by reading, and develop his intellectual faculties by composition. In 1835 several of his productions appeared in Chamber^ Edinburgh Journal, and in 1838 he completed and published a series of Tales and Sketches of the Scottisli Peasantry, part of which work was written by his brother John. After several struggles and changes, which will fall to be mentioned in the memoir of the latter, the two brothers feueda small piece of ground near Newburgh, and built there a cottage chiefly with their own hands. Here also they prepared and published their joint work, entitled Lectures on Practical Economy, which was issued from the press in 1839. After the death of John, during the same year, Alexander made a collection of his brother's poems, and published them in 1840, with an interesting memoir of the author. A copy of this work having fallen into the hands of Mrs. Hill, wife of Mr. Frederick Hill, inspector of prisons, that lady wrote to Alexander Bethune, offering to use her interest in procuring him a situation either as a teacher, or in some way connected with the prisons. It was a tempting offer to one in his situation, and Alexander so far com- plied with it as to try the office of a turnkey in the prison at Glasgow. But a week's experience sufficed him, and in March, 1841, he wrote a grateful answer to the lady, respectfully declining her offer, and stating that he did not wish an application to be made for one who had no qualifications above those of a common labourer. In 1842 Alexander Bethune visited Edinburgh to make arrangements for the publication of The Scottish Peasant's Fireside, which appeared early in the following year. But this was the last of his in- tellectual efforts, and his life of struggle was drawing to a close. He had previously been attacked by fever, and although the disease had been partially cured, it had settled down into the more dangerous form of pulmonary consumption. In one of the delusive intervals of this insidious complaint, an offer was made to him of the editorship of the Dumfries Standard, a paper about to be started in that town, while his salary as editor was to be ^100 a year. Such a prospect of comfortable independence, and with occupation so much to his liking, was too tempting to be overlooked, and he signified his readiness to accept the situation should the recovery of his health be confirmed. But he rapidly grew worse, and died at Newburgh on the 13th of June, 1843, in the thirty-ninth year of his age. His remains were interred in Abdie church-yard, in the grave of his brother [ohn, with whom lie had been so closely united dining life by their mutual hard- ships, tastes, and intellectual pursuits; and an in- teresting volume of his Life, Correspondence, and Literary Remains, was published in 1845 by Mr. William M'Combie, a farmer of Aberdeenshire, who like himself had been a writer on social economy. SIR HENRY LINDESAY BETHUNE. 127 BETHUNE, Sir Henry Lindesay, Bart. This gallant soldier, whose character and deeds are still cherished in the remembrance of the Persians, was born on the 12th April, 1787. He was of the ancient family of the Lords Lindsay of the Byres in Fife- shire, and son of Major Martin Eccles Lindesay Bethune, by a daughter of General Tovey. Em- bracing the military profession, he entered the East India Company's service as a cadet in 1804, and by successive steps rose to the rank of major. It was not however in India that his high reputation was to be won; but in Persia, to which country he was sent for the purpose of aiding Abbas-Mirza, crown-prince of Persia, in organizing his artillery; and he soon became the favourite not only of that distinguished prince, but of the whole Persian army. His personal presence indeed was enough to secure the admi- ration of such an imaginative, half-civilized people as the Persians; for he was about seven feet in height, while his successful deeds of daring seemed to realize those wonderful tales of ancient heroism to which they loved to listen. One of his exploits may serve as a specimen. During the war of the Persians against Russia, and while the armies of the two countries were in the field, Prince Abbas had set out one day on a hunting excursion, accompanied by his staff, and taking with him the artillery horses, to beat up for game. Availing themselves of such an opportunity, the Russians made an attack upon the Persian camp, and carried off Major Lindesay's six brass guns. As soon as the major returned he was made aware of the loss; and on surveying the Russian encampment with his glass, he saw the six guns ranged in front of their lines. At his summons his troopers were instantly in the saddle; at their head he charged across the plain; and after a short skirmish, in which the Russian advanced posts were swept aside, he broke through and rode down the troops opposed to him, and recovered and brought back the guns in the face of the whole Russian army. Sixteen years were thus spent in the Persian service, and the deeds of Bethune had made him the beau ideal of an invincible champion in the eyes of the orientals. lie was Rustan, the ancient Hercules of Persia, revived, or a new one raised in his room. But while his deeds fired their imaginations, his kindness to the soldiers, his strict impartiality, and the justice with which he caused their arrears to be paid in full — qualities very unusual among eastern commanders — made him almost an object of their idolatrous worship, so that all were delighted to obey such a leader, and ready to follow him to the death. I laving successfully accomplished his mission to Persia, Bethune returned home; entered into possession of his estate of Kilconquhar in Fifeshire, inherited from his grandfather, David Bethune of Balfour, whose name he also adopted; and in 1S22 married Courts, eldest daughter of John Trotter of Dyrham Park, Herts. He now held the rank of major-general in the Past India Company's service, from which he retired; and although as yet only thirty-live years old, he had achieved enough for lame, and risen high enough for ambition. But alter an intermission of twelve peaceful years, events again summoned him to the field. They arose also in Persia, the country with which, next to his own, he was most closely connected. Futteh Ali Shah, the sovereign of Persia, had died; his eldest son, Abbas, the patron and frien 1 of Bethune, had also died during his father's lifetime; and the throne of Persia had now devolved on Mahomed-.Mirza. the son of Abbas-Mirza, and grandson of the late Shah 1 oi Persia. But in the East n 'tiling is more precarious i than the right of succession through royal hereditary descent, and a pretender to the Persian throne ap- peared in the person of Zulli Sultan, the younger brother of Abbas, and uncle of the rightful heir, who levied an army and proclaimed war to make his title good. In this emergency Mahomed appealed to England, which he was not likely to do in vain, as the security of our rule in India was incompatible with a usurpation and civil war in Persia; and at the same time Bethune repaired to London, and offered his services to government for the suppression of those Persian disturbances. It was at once seen that the right man had voluntarily appeared at the critical moment, and in 1834 he was sent to Persia, with the local rank of colonel in Asia, and the office of accredited agent of the British government. Great was the delight of the adherents of the right- ful prince at the arrival of Bethune in their country once more. The stories of his former chivalrous deeds were still their favourite themes, and thev triumphed in the assured success of their cause, now that he had reappeared to lead them onward. '1 he- rebels were proportionably dismayed, and to get rid of such a terrible enemy, the usurper, Zulli Sultan, offered a reward of four thousand tomauns to any- one who would bring him this son of Shitan's head. A still more serious difficulty to the royal cause ap- peared in the reluctance of those British officers who possessed the claim of seniority of service to place themselves under the command of Colonel Bethune; but when he offered to take an inferior position, and serve under an older officer, as a temporary arrange- ment until the question should be settled by the authorities at home, they were shamed by such noble disinterested moderation, and unanimously recog- nized his right to command. High as had been the expectations of the Persians at his arrival, Bethune's proceedings during the short campaign which fol- lowed amply fulfilled them. With the advanced guard of the shah's army, which he commanded, he resolved to fall upon the rebels by surprise; but for this, such a swift and secret march was necessary as the clumsy armies of the East can seldom accom- plish. But he did accomplish it, although for the purpose he was described as "dragging the army- after him." The result was worth the effort, for "he came, saw, and conquered" — fell upon the rebels at unawares, scattered them by his fierce unexpected onset, and conclusively extinguished the rebellion by making Zulli Sultan prisoner. By this decisive victory, won in December, 1S34. the way was opened to the young shah for a successful entrance into his capital of Teheran, who on his -part was not slick to acknowledge the services of the conquerer. He- heaped magnificent titles ami gold medals v.\ ■ 11 l>ethune, created him general and master-general of the artillery, and commanded that his worth and good services should be inscribed in the book- ol th ■ records of the king-, of Persia. ( )ne ol these lei igmg the' value <>l Beti'.ui - ■"■ Persia. He iva- in 1S35 • ; ' ■ - on the 7lh A }':-.-'.. i - \ . -■- - ■ ■ •• -- ; I2S JOHN BETHUNE. patent. But no titles could aggrandize him in the eyes of the Persians after this last campaign, in which he had outdone all his former achievements, and the public feeling is thus recorded in a private letter at the time from Persia, which was published in the United Service Gazette: "Great is the name of Lindesay in this country, and great ought it to be, for certainly he was just formed for service in Persia in troubled times like these. The confidence the soldiers have in him is quite wonderful, and all classes talk of him as if there never had appeared on earth before so irresistible a conqueror." Having seen the disturbances of Persia composed, and the rightful heir established on the throne, Sir I lenry Bcthune, in September, 1 835, returned to Scot- land, and devoted himself to the peaceful life and duties of a country gentleman. In 1850, however, his health having failed, it was hoped that a visit to Persia and the influence of its climate might renovate his sinking constitution, and restore him to his wonted activity. Thither accordingly the sick man went; and the Persians who had seen him in the days of his grandeur, when his appearance and deeds were the realization of romance, now looked with sympathizing sorrow upon the gigantic ruin of him who had been their cherished hero and benefactor, and who now seemed to have returned for the sole purpose of dying among them. This foreboding was realized, for General Bethune died at Tabreez on the 19th of February, 1S51, and the event was be- wailed by the Persians as a national calamity. Sir Henry at his death left three sons and five daughters, and was succeeded in his title and estates by his eldest son, Sir John Trotter Bethune. BETHUNE, John. This poet and miscellaneous writer, the younger brother of Alexander Bethune, of whom we have already given a notice, was born at the Mount, in the parish of Monimail, Fifeshire, during the summer of 1S10. As the poverty of his parents had restricted the education of Alexander to four or five months of school attendance, that of John was limited to a single day, after which he never was at school again. He was taught, however, to read by his mother, and was initiated into writing and arithmetic by his elder brother Alex- ander, who was his teacher in boyhood, and guardian and counsellor in more advanced years. His first employment was that of a cowherd, in which he was employed for several years; but at the age of twelve lie was obliged to join his brother in the toilsome work of breaking stones on the turnpike- road. Under the desire of bettering his condition, and by the advice of a comrade, he apprenticed him- self early in 1S24 to a country weaver, and so speedily acquired dexterity in the trade, that at the end of the first year he found that he could earn fifteen shillings a week. This was much better than stone- breaking, and with the hope of being aide to assist his aged parents, he resolved to follow weaving as his future craft, for which purpose he purchased a loom in 1825, and commenced in earnest, with his brother Alexander for his apprentice. But the national mercantile depression which followed so utterly disappointed his calculations, that his earn- ings were soon re luced to six shillings weekly, and finding that he could not get on at this rate, he returned to his old occupation as an out-door labourer. Amidst all these hardships and privations of boy- hood and youth, John Bethune had also to encounter the evils attendant upon a delicate constitution, and successive periods of weak health repeatedly sus- pended his labour in the fields. It was during these intervals that he consoled himself with reading and composition, and under this harsh apprenticeship his intellectual qualities were called forth and ripened for action. As might be expected also, his poetical talents obtained the preference: in such lonely exer- cises, he found the easiest mode in which his intellect could be tasked, and the fittest vent for his emotions; and before he had completed his nineteenth year, he had composed upwards of twenty poetical pieces of considerable length, and all of them pervaded by considerable beauty both of sentiment and language. These attempts however, by which, in the course of time, he might make himself independent of bodily toil, for which he found himself unfitted, were for several years prosecuted by stealth, as if they were an offence denounced by every literary and in- tellectual tribunal. It speaks much for the wonder- ful modesty of the young poet, that he could so carefully withhold the knowledge of such composi- tions from his friends, and be content with the solitary satisfaction of stolen waters, and bread eaten in secret. None but his brother and his parents knew how these lonely hours were employed. "Up to the latter part of 1835," Alexander Bethune states in the memoir of his brother, "the whole of his writing had been prosecuted as stealthily as if it had been a crime punishable by law. There being but one apartment in the house, it was his custom to write by the fire, with an old copy-book, upon which his paper lay, resting on his knee, and this, through life, was his only writing-desk. On the table, which was within reach, an old newspaper was kept con- tinually lying, and as soon as the footsteps of any one were heard approaching the door, copy-book, pens, and inkstand were thrust under the covering, and before the visitor came in, he had, in general, a book in his hand, and appeared to have been reading." Since October, 1829, John Bethune had been em- ployed as a day-labourer on the grounds of Inchrye, in the neighbourhood of his birth-place; but in 1835, on the death of the overseer, he was appointed his successor. The emoluments of this office consider- ably exceeded anything he had formerly enjoyed, for its salary was £2(3 a year, with the right of a cow's pasturage. To this new situation he gladly betook himself, with his brother Alexander as his assistant; but their satisfaction was short-lived, for the estate of Inchrye soon changed owners, which was followed by a change of office-bearers. Under these circum- stances, the brothers were obliged to leave their snug appointment; and, to add to their misfortunes, the new landlord required the little cottage at Lochend, in which they had located their aged parents. Being thus altogether homeless John and Alexander stoutly resolved to erect a house for themselves, and this they did chiefly with their own hands, at Mount Pleasant, near Newburgh; and here the bold-hearted intellectual peasants, after having tried various kinds of hand-labour in vain, resolved to make literature their principal resource. The career of the elder in this department has been already stated, so that we shall confine ourselves to that of John. He con- tributed to the Scottish Christian Herald, Wilson's ^ Talcs of the Borders, and other serials, and supplied live pieces to his brother's Talcs and Sketches oj the Scottish Peasantry. He also jointly wrote with Alexander the Lectures on Practical Economy, de- signed to improve the homes and habits of the poor, and which was commended by the press, although the work did not become popular, lie had thus tried the experiment of a literary life, and so far as he had gone it had proved a failure. But still the battle was not lost. His attempts, which were HUGH BINNING CHARLES BISSET. 129 wonderful for his education and circumstances, had obtained honourable recognition where such recog- nition could be available; he was not only young to this new life, but also young in years; and a few more attempts would have shown the qualities he possessed, and established his reputation as a worthy candidate for literary fame. It was too late, how- ever, to attempt the trial anew. Deep mortification at the failure of the work on Practical Economy preying on a constitution already broken, brought on pulmonary consumption, and he died at Mount Pleasant on the 1st of September, 1839, in the thirtieth year of his age. Thus passed away an obscurely born and hard- handed son of toil, who, without the training of college or school, and with few of even the ordinary opportunities of self-improvement, became a vigorous original prose writer, and a poet of no ordinary mark. While his writings in either capacity were stamped with the impress of true genius, they also showed much depth of reflection, ennobled by the spirit of genuine devotional piety. And such also was his daily life, simple, pure, and meditative, showing a man far above the ordinary mark, and isolated from the sphere in which he lived. His poems, by which he was so little known while he lived, but which will constitute his best commemora- tion, were published by his brother Alexander, with a memoir of their author, in 1840; and from the profits of the second edition, a sufficient sum was realized to erect a monument over the grave of John Bethune in the churchyard of the village of Abdie. BINNING, Hugh, an extraordinary instance of precocious learning and genius, was the son of John Binning of Dalvennan, a landed gentleman of Ayr- shire. He appears to have been born about the year 1627. In his earliest years he outstripped all his seniors in the acquisition of Latin. At Glasgow College, which he entered in his fourteenth year, he distinguished himself very highly in philosophy. What was to others only gained by hard study, seemed to be intuitively known by Binning. After taking the degree of Master of Arts, he began to study for the church. When Mr. James Dalrymple, afterwards Lord Stair, vacated the chair of philo- sophy at Glasgow, Binning, though not yet nineteen, stood a competitor with some men of graver years and very respectable acquirements, and gained the object of his ambition by the pure force of merit. Though unprepared for entering upon his duties, no deficiency was remarked. He was one of the first in Scotland to reform philosophy from the barbarous jargon of the schools. While fulfilling the duties of his chair in the most satisfactory manner, he con- tinued his study of theology, and a vacancy occur- ring in the church of Govan, near Glasgow, he re- ceived a call to be its minister. Here he married Barbara Simpson, the daughter of a Presbyterian clergyman in Ireland. As a preacher, Mr. Binning's fame was very great : his knowledge was extensive, and there was a fervour in his eloquence which bore away the hearts of his congregation, as it were, to heaven. At the division of the church into resolu- tioners and protesters, he took the latter and more zealous side, but yet was too full of virtuous and benevolent feeling to be a violent partisan. In order to heal the difference as much as possible, he wrote a treatise on Christian love. When Oliver Cromwell came to Glasgow, he caused a dispute to be held between his own Independent clergymen and the Scottish Presbyterian ministers. Binning having nonplussed his opponents, Cromwell asked the name of "that bold young man." On being told VOL. I. that he was called Mr. Hugh Binning, the sectarian general said, "He hath bound well, indeed, but'' (clapping his hand upon his sword) "this will loose all again." This excellent young preacher died of consumption, 1653, in his twenty-sixth year, leaving behind him a reputation for piety, virtue, and learn- ing, such as has rarely been attained by any indi- vidual under that age. Besides his treatise on Chris- tian love, he wrote many miscellaneous pieces of a pious nature, which were published in 1732, in one volume quarto. A selection from these, under the title of Evangelical Bcautus of Hugh Binning, ap- peared in 1829, with a memoir of the author by the Rev. John Brown of Whitburn. BISSAT, or BISSAUT, Peter, professor of the canon law in the university of Bononia, was born in Fife in the reign of James V., being a descendant of Thomas Bissat, or Bissart, who was Earl of Life in the reign of David II. He received instructions in grammar, philosophy, and the laws at the university of St. Andrews, and afterwards perfected his educa- tion at that of Paris. Having then travelled into Italy, he was honoured by the university of Bononia with the degree of Doctor of Laws, and shortly after became professor of the canon law in that seminary, in which situation he continued for several years "with great applause." Bissat appears to .have been a man of general accomplishment — a poet, an orator, and a philoso- pher; but his forte lay in the canon law. His various writings were published at Venice in 1565, in quarto, under the title Patricii Bissarli Opera Omnia, viz. Poemata, Orationes, Lectiones Eeriales, et Liber dc Irregularitate. The last of these com- positions was a commentary on that part of the canon law which gives the reasons assigned by the Church of Rome for excluding certain laymen from the clerical office. 1 Bissat died in the latter part of the year 1568. BISSET, Chari.es, an ingenious physician and 1 Of these, as detailed by Bissat, an abstract may be inter- esting to the British reader, now happily so little familiar with the systems of the Catholic church. The primitive Christians, in admitting the clergy, observed exactly the rules laid down by St. Paul in the first epistle to Timothy. Yet sometimes, as we learn from St. Cyprian, at the pressing instance of the people, persons of noted merit, who refused through humility, were compelled to enter. By the canons, however, a man required to be a deacon before he could be a priest, and a priest before he could be a bishop. It was a general principle of the church, that the clergy should be chosen from the most holy of the laity, and, therefore, all liable to any reproach in their lives and conversations were excluded. Agreeably to this principle, which agreed with the injunction of St. Paul, that they should be blameless and without reproach, the first council of Nice excluded all those, specifically, who. after baptism, had been guilty of any sort of crime, such as heresy, homicide, or adultery; nor was penance any palliative, seeing that the memory of the offence always remained; while it w.is to be expected that those whose lives were without stain - be preferred to those who had fallen. Thus all persons wh i had performed penance were excluded. Those also were deemed irregular, and not entitled to admittance, who had killed any person, by accident or in self-defence, or who had borne arms even in a just war; who had twice marrie r married a widow; or who engaged much in worldly affairs; all of which circumstances were held as-derogating in > me degree from the necessary purity of the individual. The only ' i " moral disqualification was ignorance. The physical tions were almost equally numerous. All f ■ : ■ persons were excluded, as unable to perform their functions in a proper manner. All persons who were lame, or had ..: y deformity calculated to create an aversion in the people, were declared unfit for orders. Madness and self-m disqualifications. All persons born out of wedlock were ex- cluded, because, however innocent the individual in h:- own person, the associations which the sight of them was lated to awaken were not favourable t i virtue. S aves, ser- vants, children, and monastic clergy withuut the c nsent '. their superiors, were excluded. 9 130 CHARLES BISSET JOHN BLACK. writer on fortification, was born at Glenalbert, near Dunkeld, in the year 1717. It is only known, re- garding his parentage, that his father was a lawyer of some eminence, and a distinguished Latinist. After a course of medical studies at Edinburgh, he was appointed, in 1740, second surgeon of the military hospital in Jamaica, and spent several years in the West India Islands, and in Admiral Vernon's fleet, in order to become acquainted with the diseases of the torrid zone. But, while thus seeking to avert disease from others, Dr. Bisset became himself liable to its ravages. Having, in 1745, contracted ill health at Greenwich in Jamaica, he was obliged to resign his situation as second surgeon, in order to return to Britain. In May, 1746, he purchased an ensigncy in the 42d (Highland) regiment, then com- manded by Lord John Murray. By this transition his attention was turned from the medical to the military profession, and fortification became his favourite study. After a fruitless descent on the coast of Brittany in September, 1748, and passing a winter at Limerick in Ireland, the regiment was, in the beginning of next campaign, brought into action at Sandberg, near Hulst, in Dutch Flanders, where one Dutch and two English regiments suffered very severely. Here Dr. Bisset employed himself in drawing a sketch of the enemy's approaches, and some time after, in another of Bergen-op-Zoom, with the permanent lines, the environs, and the enemy's first parallel; which were presented by his colonel to the Duke of Cumberland, the commander-in-chief. The duke was so much pleased with these specimens of Dr. Bisset's military knowledge, that he ordered him to attend the siege of Bergen-op-Zoom, and give due attention daily to the progress of both the attack and the defence, in order to form a journal of the whole proceedings. This distinguished duty Dr. Bisset undertook with a modest reluctance, the result rather of inexperience than of any conscious- ness of want of knowledge. The result, however, was highly honourable to him. His journals, duly illustrated with plans, were daily delivered to Lord John Murray, who forwarded them every second or third day to the duke, who was then at Maestricht, at the head of the allied army, observing the motions of the French army under Marshal Saxe. His royal highness was pleased to express his approbation, by recommending Dr. Bisset to the Duke of Montagu, then master-general of the ordnance, who honoured him with a warrant as engineer extraordinary to the brigade of engineers; he was at the same time pro- moted to a lieutenancy in the army. At the end of the war, Bisset being placed on half-pay, he had full leisure to pursue his studies in fortification, and also to visit the principal specimens of the art upon the Continent. The result was his Essay on the Theory and Construction of Fortifications, which appeared in 1 75 1, in 8vo. His attention being now disengaged from this pursuit, he resumed his original profession, and, for the sake of a healthy air, which was necessary to his weakly constitution, retired to practise at the village of Skelton, in Cleveland, Yorkshire, where he spent the remainder of his life. In 1755, when the Seven Years' war was impending, he published a Treatise on the Scurvy, with Remarks on the Cure of Scorbutic Ulcers, which he dedicated to Viscount Anson and the other lords of the admiralty. In 1762 appeared his Essay on the Medical Constitution of Great Britain, which he inscribed to his friend Sir John Pringle. In this work he shows the effects of the change of weather, and of the seasons, on the diseases of Great Britain; and at the conclusion is an interesting paper on the virtues of the herb bcar's-foot in the cure of worms. In 1765 the university of St. Andrews conferred upon him the degree of M.D. In 1766 he published, at Newcastle, a volume of Medical Essays and Observations, in which are upwards of twenty papers on the climate and diseases of the West Indies, which his experience in that country had enabled him to illustrate in a most satisfactory manner; besides some others on the chronic diseases of Great Britain, particularly the hooping-cough and the scorbutic itch, as well as many chirurgical remarks, which show a mind bent on the improve- ment of his profession. A few years before his death he deposited in the library of the infirmary at Leeds a manuscript of medical observations, in octavo, and extending to nearly seven hundred pages; for which the physicians of that institution honoured him with a formal vote of thanks. Dr. Bisset also presented a manuscript treatise on fortification to the Prince of Wales (afterwards George IV.), which was deposited in his royal highness's private library. These, with a small published treatise on naval tactics, and a few political papers, constituted the whole of the intellectual exertions of this distinguished man; who died at Knayton, near Thirsk, in May, 17^1, aged seventy-five years. BLACK, John. This eccentric genius and dis- tinguished London journalist was born near Dunse, Berwickshire, in 1783. He was of very lowly parentage, and to add to the difficulty of attaining eminence under such circumstances, he lost his father in infancy, and his mother when he was only twelve years of age. He gave, however, such early indica- tions of talent and aptitude for learning, that his mother, like a true Scottish dame of the lower orders, hoped that her boy might at a future day "wag his pow in a pu'pit," and had encouraged his dawning genius by every means in her power. Black was at an early age sent to the parish school at Dunse, which was four miles distant, and these eight miles in going and returning the boy trudged daily on foot — a practice that laid the foundation of those peripatetic habits which lasted with him through life. Being unable, after the death of his mother, to perfect his education so as to qualify himself for realizing her hopes, he was obliged, at the age of fourteen, to enter a factor's office in Dunse, as an errand-boy; but after staying long enough in this situation to discover that he was fit for something better, he went in his eighteenth year to Edinburgh, and obtained employment at a stationer's. Still migrating upward, he became successively a clerk in two, if not three, offices of writers to the signet in Edinburgh. It was evident, however, from his studies that these changes were only steps to a different end; for by self-teaching he made himself master of Latin and Greek, and not content with classical learning, he acquired the German language from an Austrian musician belonging to the Edin- burgh theatre, and Italian from another foreign musician, teaching them the English language in return. He also acquired French so as to read it with tolerable ease, but without being able to con- verse in it with sufficient correctness. After these acquirements, Black's growing ambi- tion carried him to London, the proper sphere where he could turn them to the best account. lie was now twenty-seven years old when he set out on this journey, which was performed solely on foot, and lie arrived in the great metropolis with only three halfpence in his pocket. It was as hopeful a foundation for a London fortune as the most enter- prising Scotsman could desire. It was well for Black that he also brought letters of introduction to JOHN BLACK. '3' Mr. Perry, the proprietor and editor of the Morning Chronicle, one of these being from Mr. Gibson, after- wards Sir James Gibson-Craig. Mr. Perry, an admirable judge of such applicants, was pleased with the bold active spirit and talents of the Scottish candidate, and employed him forthwith upon his paper. Here he was not only at home, but among the honoured, for the Morning Chronicle had lately given employment to John Campbell, afterwards Lord-chancellor of England, and to Mr. (afterwards Serjeant) Spankie; while the reporters of the paper at the time of Black's arrival and afterwards, were chiefly Scotch and Irish young men of high talent and promise. His employment as a member of this staff was to translate the foreign journals, and to take his "turn" as a reporter in the gallery of the parlia- ment house. Black soon obtained the reputation of being a very rapid reporter; but Mr. Proby, the managing conductor under Mr. Perry, used to declare, that his chief merit consisted in the wonder- ful speed with which he moved from the House of Commons to the office in the Strand. At this last place, also, Black's eccentricities were still more remarkable than his light-heeled speed. He kept the reporters' room in a ferment by loud radical declamations and debates upon the subject before the house, while the overseer was worried by these delays, which prevented the "copy" from being delivered until the last moment. In consequence of these peculiarities, Black was called by his compeers the "Professor of Logic," and the "Flying Scotch- man." Finding in the earlier part of his career in London that something more than reporting in a newspaper was necessary for his subsistence, he also laid himself out for occupation among the booksellers, not however in works of original authorship, but as a translator. His translations were the following: — Political Essay on the Kingdom of New Spain, &c, from the French of A. de Humboldt, 4 vols. 8vo, 1S11-12; Travels through Norway and Lapland, from the German of Leopold, with notes, and a life of the author, by Professor Jamieson, 4to, 1813; Memoirs of Goldoni, the Celebrated Italian Dramatist, written by himself, from the French, 2 vols. 8vo, 1 8 13; and a Course of Lecher es on the Dramatic Arts and Literature, translated from the German of Schlegel, 2 vols. 8vo, 1815. The industry, perseverance, and talent of Mr. Black were crowned with success, when, two years before Mr. Perry's death (which occurred in 1821), he was appointed principal editor of the Morning Chronicle. So well also was his reputation estab- lished, that he held this office in permanence, so that when the paper was sold by Mr. Perry's executors in 1823, Mr. Black was continued sole editor, and such was also the case when it was re-sold in 1S34. The whole period of his editorship comprised nearly a quarter of a century, and during that time, how- ever seldom he may have appeared in the streets of the political world, or been recognized by the moving crowds, he was still a power in the state that made himself be felt by all parties alike, and next to the Jupiter Tonans of the Times he occupied the highest place in political journalism. His character while holding this elevated position was enough to disarm envy, and secure for him the general esteem. "lie was necessarily brought," says his biographer, "into social and political intercourse, during that time, with some of the principal men of his day. And it is but doing scanty justice to his memorv to sav, that no one knew him who did not love him for the guilelessness of his disposition; and admire him, not only for the vast range of his learning, but for his sterllrg and fearless honesty of purpose, and his sincere, earnest, and successful advocacy of liberal principles." The personal and domestic habits of Mr. Black, even in London and while editor of such a journal, were not only characterized by the simplicity of his early life, but by an eccentricity in which few but himself would have ventured to indulge. Instead of having a separate mansion of his own, where he could receive his titled friends, or play the courteous patron before admiring dependants, he dwelt at his workshop, occupying the higher story of the office of the Morning Chronicle, in Norfolk Street, Strand. He was twice married, but his first marriage was under circumstances of which little is known. The second Mrs. Black was Miss Cromeck, sister of the artist of that name, residing in Newman Street, Oxford Street, where Black was a temporary lodger. This person is described as a woman of remarkable appearance, in person something like Meg Merrilies in the tale of Guy Mannering. The style of living followed by the pair in the garrets of Norfolk Street was such as to amaze strangers, and amuse their acquaintances. The walls of the rooms were wain- scotted with books, the floors were thickly carpeted or rather paved with the same commodities, and between the piles and pyramids it was a task of diffi- culty for the visitor to thread his way. Even in the bed-room, the sides of the bed itself were blocked up with such stockades of volumes, that to enter it laterally was impossible, and the pair were obliged to effect a lodgment by creeping in at one end of it. And these books were not to be moved, or dusted by any hand but his own. In his walks Black's constant attendant was a large Newfound- land dog, named Cato, whom he used to tug along from one bookstall to another, or to run with to and from Blackheath and London at all hours of the night. In the enumeration of Mr. Black's literary friends who contributed articles and communications to the Morning Chronicle, we have an interesting peep behind the curtain of political journalism, and can mark how an influential London newspaper is sup- ported and conducted. The following quotation on this subject would be too long, were it not for the information which it gives to the uninitiated, on which account we quote it almost entire: — "The late Duke of Sussex was an active purveyor for him [Mr. Black] during the illness of George III. and the regency. His other frequent writers were Sheridan, Adair, D. Kinnaird, General Palmer, Mr. E. Dubois, the Rev. Mr. Colton, Lord Holland (very often), the late John Allan, Porson, Jekyll, 'Tommy Hill,' Horace Smith, and other worthies now no more. To these especially, and as more eminent political writers, may be added the names of Albany Fonblanque, James Mill, David Ricardo, C. P. Thomson (afterwards Lord Sydenham), Mr. M'Culloch (one of his most steady and attached friends), and Mr. Senior. These gentlemen wrote chiefly on subjects of political economy. Mr. Chad- wick, of course, provided Mr. Black with ample material on the poor-laws. Mr. Francis Place, though a Charing-cross tailor, supplied Mr. Black, as als > did Mr. Hume, with invaluable material in the discus- sion of the repeal and alteration of the combination laws, and the export of machinery, in 1S24 5. Many members of the Upper House also fum;?hed_ him with contributions, especially the 'Jockey (.1 Norfolk '—called the first Protestant duke, the late Lords Erskine, Moira, Lauderdale, Durham, and Essex. Among the deceased commoners we have omitted honour.! hie mention ot the late Charles Buller, who in 1S30, the:: a student in Mr. Coal: .. :. ^ *32 JOHN BLACK. chambers, first used his pen for Mr. Black in lively and brief articles. The supposed ghost of Junius also haunted the editor's room. Sir Philip Francis was the author of the 'Historical Questions' which appeared in the Chronicle; and Proby, the sub-editor, was struck by the similitude of the hand-writing to the facsimiles of the letters of Junius in the Public Ledger. Sir Philip long occasionally communicated both with Mr. Perry and Mr. Black. Lord Brougham's hand-writing was well known during the queen's trial, and for fully a quarter of a century afterwards. The Right Hon. Edmund Ellice, the member for Coventry, was, years since, a frequent and valued correspondent. . . . Mr. Joseph Parkes was a constant contributor from 1824 to later years; and we believe that gentleman penned in Birmingham most of the leading articles in the Chronicle on tithes, during the public agitation of that question and the commutation act. The same hand kept up a constant cannonade in Black's leaders on municipal, and parliamentary, and law reform, preceding 183 1, and subsequently to the later settlement of those questions. Colonel Thomp- son had also his entree to Black's private room, and early launched the corn-law question, years before the Manchester League and Sir Robert Peel 'settled' it. Old Colonel Jones, in the Morning Chronicle, as well as in the Times, in 1830, 31, and 32, dis- charged his rifle-shots into the ranks of the 'corrup- tionists' of that day. Tom Moore deposited with Black occasional prose leaders on Irish party sub- jects. He also contributed poetry both to the Chronicle and the Times. Black's old friend and schoolfellow, Mr. Thomas Young, now living, was another invaluable friend of both journals, especially in the crisis of the reform acts, writing numerous articles for the Chronicle; and also keeping the press au courant in such information as Lord Melbourne (to whom Mr. Young was then private secretary) considered important for the right direction of public opinion. Sir Robert Peel, with all his prudery, did not think it inconsistent with his dignity to send a 'communication' now and then, with 'Sir Robert Peel's compliments.' He also had communications from Windsor in subsequent reigns. George III. was more than suspected by Mr. Black of the per- petration of a leading article, the subject being him- self; but the proof in this case was presumptive, not positive, though quite satisfactory to Mr. Black. Nor was Black's useful connection confined only to noblemen and gentlemen. He had a powerful corps of female contributors, among whom were the late Miss Ldgeworth, and Mrs. Marcet, Lady Caroline Lamb, and, subsequently, a living lady of singular talent and force of mind, wife of an eminent his- torian." In this detail of the gratuitous assistants of the editor of the Morning Chronicle, the reader can easily detect the secret of the power of a London newspaper. While its literary character occupies so high a place, the correctness and importance of its political intelligence make it the observatory by which the timepieces of public opinion are regu- lated. While the contributors, however, can pre- serve this incognito with the public, they cannot thus conceal themselves from the editor, and being the possessor of such dangerous knowledge, his character must be well established for integrity, prudence, and secrecy, before such a power can be intrusted to his hands. But this character Mr. Black possessed in an eminent decree. While his political acquaintanceship was so extensive, and while so many compromising articles were confided to his keeping, both by British and Irish statesmen and literary celebrities, in every case their secret was kept with inviolable fidelity. Nor was his sagacity in discovering youthful talent, and his readiness to cherish and bring it forward, inferior to his other qualities; and many a young writer whose early attempts he encouraged and liberally rewarded, found his patronage their first stepping-stone to fortune and fame. Thus, among others, it was with the celebrated Charles Dickens, who in his youth was a reporter to the Morning Chronicle, while Black was its editor. In a period of political turmoil, while public resentments are hot, and the language of journalism unmitigated, it is almost impossible for the editor of a great leading organ of public opinion to hold onward in his course un- checked; and hostile invitations will occasionally be sent to him requiring both wisdom and self-denial to refuse. Such was the case with Black, who on two occasions was "called out," in one instance by a professional colleague, to whom he had expressed certain political opinions too strongly, and in the other by Mr. Roebuck, who supposed Black to be author of an article in the Chronicle, which, how- ever, he did not write. Happily both "affairs of honour," as they are called, terminated bloodlessly, and the Gothic custom has now fallen into contempt. Of the many statesmen with whom Mr. Black's position brought him into contact, one was Lord Melbourne, while he held the office of premier, who took great delight in the varied learning, extensive information, and simplicity, bluntness, and good- nature of the editor. In consequence of their mutual esteem, they were enabled at their interviews to unbend from the cares of politics, and find refuge in the literature of the past age, or general chat upon the living world around them. At one of these meetings Lord Melbourne said abruptly, "Mr. Black, you are the only person who comes to see me, who forgets who I am." Black stared, and the other added, "You forget that I am prime min- ister." The editor was about to offer an apology, when the jaunty easy-minded premier continued, "Everybody else takes especial care to remember it; but I wish they would forget it; for they only re- member it to ask me for places and favours. Now, Mr. Black, you never ask me for anything, and I wish you would; for, seriously, I should be most happy to do anything in my power to serve you." "I am truly obliged," said Black, "but I don't want anything: I am editor of the Morning Chronicle; I like my business, and I live happily on my income." "Then by G — I envy you," cried his lordship, "and you're the only man I ever did." Mr. Black retired from the management of the Morning Chronicle in 1844, "under circumstances," adds his biographer, "which excited some regret among the liberal party, but on which it is not necessary for us to dwell." This obliged him to part with his library, a large and valuable collection, for he had been, through the greater part of his life, an enthusiastic book-hunter — and with the proceeds, added to a sum contributed by the proprietors of the Chronicle, and other sums collected for him among the leaders of the liberal party, he purchased for himself a small annuity, which was sufficient for all his simple wants. He also tenanted a cottage at Birling, in Kent, which he had, with a piece of ground to cultivate, from one of his friends at a merely nominal rent, and here he passed the re- maining years of his life in rural occupations and contemplation, unmoved by the roar of those political elements amidst which he had dwelt so long. Here, also, he finally sickened, and here he died in June, 1855. JOSEPH BLACK. 133 BLACK, Joseph, M.D., "the illustrious Nestor (as he has been termed by Lavoisier) of the chemical revolution," — was not a native of Scotland, having been born on the banks of the Garonne, in France; but as his father was of Scottish extraction, while his mother was a native of that country, and as Scot- land, further, was the scene not only of the better part of his life, but of all those exertions in science which will transmit his name to posterity, it seems proper that he should obtain a place in this work, even at the expense of a slight violation of its lead- ing principle. John Black, the father of the illustrious subject of this memoir, was a native of Belfast, descended, as already mentioned, from a Scottish family, which had for some time been settled there. For the pur- pose of carrying on the profession of a wine merchant, he resided chiefly at Bordeaux, where he married a daughter of Mr. Robert Gordon of Hillhead in Aber- deenshire, a gentleman who also resided at Bor- deaux, and was engaged in the same trade. The sister of Mrs. Black was mother to Mr. Russel, pro- fessor of natural philosophy in the university of Edin- burgh, and their aunt was mother to Dr. Adam Ferguson, professor of moral philosophy in the same college, and author of the History of the Roman Re- public. While Mr. John Black resided at Bordeaux he was honoured with the friendship of Montesquieu, who was president of the parliament or court of justice in that province. The regard which Mont- esquieu entertained for Mr. Black was testified in the warmest terms when the latter was proposing to return to his native country. "I cannot," said he on that occasion, "be reconciled to the thoughts of your leaving Bordeaux. I lose the most agreeable pleasure I had, that of seeing you often, and forget- ting myself with you." Dr. Black was born in the year 1728. In 1740, a few years before his father retired from business, he was sent home, in order to have the education of a British subject. After spending some time at the schools of Belfast, he was sent, in 1746, to complete his studies at the college of Glasgow. Here his at- tention became decidedly fixed upon physical science; insomuch that, on being desired to select a profession, he chose that of medicine, on account of its allowing the greatest scope for such studies. It was about this time that Dr. Cullen had been appointed lecturer on chemistry in Glasgow university. Hitherto this science had been only treated as a curious, and, in some respects, a useless art. This great man, con- scious of his own strength, and taking a wide and comprehensive view, saw the unoccupied field of philosophical chemistry open before him. He was satisfied that it was susceptible of great improve- ment, by means of liberal inquiry and rational inves- tigation. It was perhaps the good fortune of Dr. Black in falling under such a master, that gave his mind a peculiar bent in favour of this department of physical science. 1 1 is previous acquirements and extraordinary aptitude speedily became known to Dr. Cullen, who was at all times remarkable for the personal attentions he paid to his pupils. Black be- came a valuable assistant to Dr. Cullen in his chemi- cal operations, and his experiments were sometimes publicly adduced in the lecture, as a sufficient autho- rity for various new facts. Thus commenced a friendship between two great men, which was never afterwards interrupted until their death, and which was of considerable service to mankind. In 1 75 1 Black was sent to Edinburgh to complete the course of his medical studies. At this time the mode of action of lithotriptic medicines, but par- ticularly lime-water, in alleviating the pains of stone and gravel, divided the opinions of professors and practitioners. This subject attracted the attention of Black; and it appears from some of his memor- andums that he at first held the opinion that the causticity of alkalies was owing to the igneous matter which they derive from quicklime. Having prose- cuted his experiments on magnesia, the grand secret of nature, which for ever will be associated with Irs name, was laid open to him. He perceived that the acrimony of these substances was not owing to their combination with igneous particles; that it was their peculiar property; and that they lost this property, and became mild, by combining with a certain por- tion of air, to which he gave the name of fixed aik, because it was fixed or become solid in the substances into the composition of which it entered. He dis- covered, for instance, that a cubic inch of marble consisted of half its weight of pure lime, and a quan- tity of air equal to six gallons measure. This grand discovery, which forms one of the most important eras of chemical science, was the subject of his in- augural essay on obtaining his degree as Doctor of Medicine; and the reputation it acquired for him was the means, in 1756, of placing him in the chair of chemistry at Glasgow, then vacated by Dr. Cullen, who was transferred to the same chair in the college of Edinburgh. The theory of fixed air (now termed by chemists carbonic acid gas) was speedily propa- gated on the Continent, where at this time chemistry was occupying the attention of many great men. In Germany, Dr. Black's opinions, though placed on the firmest basis by experiments, met with much op- position, which, it appears, gave him an uneasiness not to have been expected from his philosophical, and rather indolent, character. In France, however, he was very differently treated. Lavoisier, in send- ing him a copy of his treatise on respiration, thus ex- pressed himself: "It is but just you should be one of the first to receive information of the progress made in a career which you yourself have opened, and in which all of us here consider ourselves your disciples." To this Black replied, with a just admiration of what the French chemistswere doing, and without reference to any merit of his own. On his assuming the chair of chemistry at Glasgow, that of anatomy was also imposed upon him; but this latter he soon exchanged for that of medicine, for which, it would appear, he was better qualified. I le gave great satisfaction by the perspicuity and sim- plicity, the caution and moderation, which he dis- covered in his medical lectures. At the same time, he became a favourite practitioner in the city, where his engaging appearance and manners, and the benevo- lent and unaffected interest which he took in all the cases intrusted to his care, rendered him a most wel- come visitor in every family. His principal friend at Glasgow was his associate Dr. Adam Smith, professor of moral philosophy, with whom he had become in- timate when attending the university as a student. A peculiar simplicity and sensibility, an incorruptible integrity, the strictest delicacy and correctness of manners, marked the character of each of the philoso- phers, and firmly bound them in the closest union. "It seems to have been between the years 1759 and 1763 1 that his speculations concerning HEAT, which had long occupied his thought.-, were brought to maturity. Ami when it is considered by what simple experiments, by what familiar observations, Dr. Black illustrated the laws of fluidity and eva] ra- tion, it appears wonderful that they had not long 1 The following most interesting account of one of t 1 cipal discoveries in modem science '.- from a biogi | memoir, prefixed by Professor Rubisjn to L>r. L.ac a 1 eclures. 134 JOSEPH BLACK. before been observed and demonstrated. They are, however, less obvious than might at first sight be imagined, and to have a distinct and clear conception of those seemingly simple processes of nature re- quired consideration and reflection. If a piece of wood, a piece of lead, and a piece of ice are placed in a temperature much inferior to that of the body, and if we touch the piece of wood with the hand, it feels cold; if we touch the piece of lead, it feels colder still; but the piece of ice feels colder than either. Now, the first suggestion of sense is, that we receive cold from the wood; that we receive more from the lead, and most of all from the ice; and that the ice continues to be a source of cold till the whole be melted. But an inference precisely the contrary to all this is made by him whose attention and rellec- tion has been occupied with this subject, lie infers that the wood takes a little heat from the hand, but is soon heated so much as to take no more. The lead takes more heat before it be as much satiated; and the ice continues to feel equally cold, and to carry off heat as fast as in the first moment till the whole be melted. This, then, was the inference made by Dr. Black. " BDerhaave has recorded an interesting observa- tion by Fahrenheit, namely, that water would some- times grow considerably colder than melting snow without freezing, and would freeze in a moment when shaken or disturbed, and in the act of freezing give out many degrees of heat. Founded on this observa- tion, it appears that Dr. Black entertained some vague notion or conjecture that the heat which was received by the ice during its conversion into water was not lost, but was still contained in the water. And he hoped to verify this conjecture by making a com- parison of the time required to raise a pound of water one degree in its temperature, with the time required to melt a pound of ice, both being supposed to receive the heat equally fast. And that he might ascertain how much heat was extricated during con- gelation, he thought of comparing the time required to depress the temperature of a pound of water one degree with the time required for freezing it entirely. The plan of this series of experiments occurred to him during the summer season. But for want of ice, which he could not then procure, he had no oppor- tunity of putting them to the test. He therefore waited impatiently for the winter. The winter ar- rived, and the decisive experiment was performed in the month of December, 1 761. From this experi- ment it appeared that a-> much heat was taken up by the ice during its liquefaction as would have raised the water 140 degrees in its temperature, and on the other hand, that exactly the same quantity of heat was given out during the congelation of the water. But this experiment, the result of which Dr. Black eagerly longed for, only informed him how much heat was absort>ed by the ice during liquefaction, was re- tained by the water while it remained fluid, and was again emitted by it in the process of freezing. But his mind was deeply impressed with the truth of the doctrine by reflecting on the observations that pre- sented themselves when a frost or thaw happened to prevail. The hiils are nut at once cleared of snow during the sunshine of the brightest winter day, nor were the ponds suddenly covered witli ice during a single frosty night. Much heat is absorbed and fixed in the water during the melting of the snow; and, on the other hand, while the water is changed into ice, much heat is extricated. During a thaw the thermometer sinks when it is removed from the air and placed in the melting snow; and during severe frost it rises when plunged into freezing water. In the first ca^c the snow receives heat, and in the last the water allows the heat to escape again. These were fair and unquestionable inferences, and now they appear obvious and easy. But although many ingen- ious and acute philosophers had been engaged in the same investigations, and had employed the same facts in their disquisitions, those obvious inferences were entirely overlooked. It was reserved for Dr. Black to remove the veil which hid this mystery of nature, and by this important discovery to establish an era in the progress of chemical science — one of the brightest, perhaps, which has yet occurred in its history." Dr.' Black explained his theory of latent heat — such was the name he himself gave to it — to the members of a literary society, April 23, 1762, and afterwards laid before his students a detailed view of the extensive and beneficial effects of this habitude in the grand economy of nature. From observing the analogy between the cessation of expansion by the thermometer during the liquefaction of the ice, and during the conversion of water into steam, Dr. Black, having explained the one, thought that the phenomena of boiling and evaporation would admit of a similar explanation. He was so convinced of the truth of this theory, that he taught it in his lectures in 1761, before he had made a single experiment on the subject. At this period his prelections on the subject of evaporation were of great advantage to Mr. James Watt, afterwards so distinguished for his application of steam-power. His discovery, indeed, may be said to have laid the foundation of that great practical use of steam which has conferred so immense a blessing upon the present age. In 1766, on Dr. Cullen being removed from the chair of chemistry at Edinburgh, to that of medicine, Dr. Black, as formerly, supplied the vacant place. In this new scene, he saw that his talents would become more conspicuous, and of more extensive utility. He was therefore encouraged to devote himself, with still more enthusiastic zeal, to his duties as a chemical teacher. In this he was so far successful, that chemistry at length became a fashion- able study in the Scottish capital, and a necessary part of the education of every gentleman. After this period, however, he retired from the field of chemical research, which now began to be occupied by a great number of distinguished philosophers. The cause of this was the delicate state of his health, aided, perhaps, a little by that indolence, or rather perhaps absence of ambitious motive, which has been already alluded to. It is to be regretted that, for the same reason, he can scarcely be said to have published anything to the world, by which his dis- coveries might be permanently secured to the honour of his own name. From the period of his accession to the chemical chair at Edinburgh, he was, for thirty years, a most distinguished member of the professional society which then adorned the capital, and has since given such an Augustan eclat to the latter period of the eighteenth century. Whatever ob- struction his health proved in the way of publishing, it never marred the active discharge of his duties. His courses became every year plainer and more familiar, and were attended by a larger number of pupils. The simplicity and elegance of his experi- ments were always much admired. His manner and appearance were peculiarly pleasing. His voice in lecturing was low and fine, and his articulation so distinct that it was perfectly well heard by a large audience. His discourse was remarkable for plain- ness and perspicuity; all his illustrations, whether by experiment or by reference to the processes of nature, were quite apposite; his hearers rested with the most entire confidence on his conclusions, JOHN BLACKADDER. 135 and even the most illiterate could not mistake his sentiments. Dr. Black's conduct in private life was marked by a striking degree of decorum, without the slightest approach to formality. His habit of studying physical science rendered him very much a man of facts and demonstrations: he is said to have been so entirely destitute of fancy, or to have so effectually r.-pressed that faculty, that he never was known to utter a joke. In his domestic affairs he was rigidly frugal and methodical; yet his house was open to an enlightened hospitality, in which he enjoyed as much of the society of his friends as his delicate health would permit. His chief friends were Smith, Hume, Carlyle, Home, and Hutton. The last was closely connected with him in philosophical pursuits, as well as in the bonds of private friendship — not- withstanding that there were some striking points of difference between the two men. In his latter days, Dr. Black sunk into a low state of health, and only preserved himself from the shocks of the weather in this variable climate by a degree of care almost fan- tastic. Thus he spun out the thread of life to the last fibre. It was his generous and manly wish that he might never live to be a burden to his friends; and never was the wish more completely gratified. On the 26th of November, 1799, and in the seventy- first year of his age, he expired, without any convul- sion, shock, or stupor, to announce or retard the approach of death. Being at table with his usual fare — some bread, a few prunes, and a measured quantity of milk diluted with water, and having the cup in his hand when the last stroke of the pulse was to be given, he had set it down upon his knees, which were joined together, and kept it steady with his hand in the manner of a person perfectly at ease, and in this attitude expired, without spilling a drop, and without a writhe in his countenance; as if an experiment had been required to show to his friends the facility with which he departed. His servant opened the door to tell him that some one had left his name, but, getting no answer, stepped about half- way towards him, and seeing him sitting in that easy posture, supporting his basin of milk with one hand, he thought that he had dropped asleep, which he had sometimes seen happen after his meals. The man went back and shut the door, but before he got down-stairs, some anxiety that he could not account for made him return and look again at his master. Even then he was satisfied, after coming pretty near, and turned to go away, but again returned, and coming quite close, found his master without life. Dr. Black, who had never been married, left more money than any one had thought he could have acquired in the course of his career. It was disposed of by his will in a manner highly characteristic. Being divided into ten thousand shares, it was parcelled out to a numerous list of relations in shares, in numbers, or fractions of shares, according to the degree in which they were proper objects of his care or solicitude. BLACKADDER. John, a distinguished preacher of the time of the persecution, was the representative of an ancient but decayed family — Blackadder of Tulliallan — and was born in the year 16 1 5. He was nephew to Principal Strang of Glasgow, and grand-nephew to the famous chorographer Timothy Pont. I lis theological education took place under the eye of the former of these eminent men, and having been duly licensed by the Presbyterian church, then in its highest purity and most triumphant dom- ination, he received a call, in 1652, to the parish church of Troqueer, in the neighbourhood of Dum- fries. Previous to this period he had married the daughter of a wealthy merchant of that town, named Haning. Mr. Blackadder commenced his minis- terial labours with a zeal which seems to have been singular even in those times. He, in the first place, gathered around him a very active body of elders, whom he set to work in every direction, upon the task of cultivating the religious mind of the parish. He also instituted a very strict system of moral dis- cipline among his flock. Not content with the weekly sermons on Sunday, he instituted lectures on the ordinary days, which were attended by many persons from a distance. He also projected a plan for occasionally interchanging duty with the neighbouring parochial clergy, which was carried into effect within the entire limits of the presbytery, and is said to have been attended with the' lx;st results. The church at this time rested undisturbed under the sway of Cromwell, who gave it toleration in every respect except as a collective body; Mr. Blackadder, therefore, found no bar to his progress, which was so exceedingly rapid, that in less than two years he had the satisfaction of seeing a thorough reformation in the devotional habits of his parish- ioners. Evil days, however, came at last. In 1662 the Episcopal form of church-government was forced, by the restored house of Stuart, upon a people who were generally repugnant to it. Mr. Blackadder, so far from complying with the new system, employed himself for several successive Sundays in exposing what he considered its unlawfulness, and, in his own words, "entered his dissent in heaven" against it. The presbytery of Dumfries, upon which the influence of so zealous a mind was probably very great, gave a positive refusal to an order of the parliament to celebrate the anniversary of the restoration at a festival. A party of fifty horse was accordingly sent to bring the whole of this refractory band of church- men to Edinburgh. On the day of their arrival at Dumfries, Mr. Blackadder was engaged to preach in the town church. He was entreated not to appear in the pulpit, lest he should exasperate the soldiers against him; but instead of taking this advice, he desired the gallery to be cleared, in order that the military might attend his sermon. They did so, and listened decorously to the denunciations which he could not help uttering against all who had been concerned in the late religious defections. He and some of his brethren were next day conducted in an honourable captivity to the capital, where he under- went some examinations, but was speedily released by the interest of his friends. He was now, how- ever, obliged to demit his charge, in favour of an Episcopal incumbent. On the last Sunday of October he preached a farewell sermon to his attached flock. "This," we are informed, "was a day of anxious expectation throughout the country, and made an impression on the minds of those who witnessed it never to be forgotten. The church of Troqueer stood (as it now does) upon a gentle eminence on the banks of the Nith, commanding an extensive view of the surrounding country, which, in the neigh- bourhood of Dumfries, presents a delightful variety of local scenerv. On the morning of that menu r- able Sabbath Mr. Blackadder had risen early from prayer and private communion. He ^tc; ped forth to meditate on the subject of the day. There was a gloom and heaviness in the atmosphere that seemed to correspond with the general melancholy. A fog, or thick haze, that covered the face of the er.rth as with a gray mantle, had retired from the vale of Nith towards the mountains. As he paced his little garden with a slow and pensive step, his contempla- ; tions were suddenly interrupted by the tolling of the 1-56 JOHN* BLACKADDER THOMAS BLACKLOCK. morning bells, several of which, in the adjacent parishes, were distinctly audible from the uncom- mon stillness of the air. These hallowed chimes, once the welcome summons to the house of prayer, now sounded like the knell of their expiring liberties, reminding him how many of his brethren were, like himself, preparing to bid their last adieu, amidst the tears and blessings of their people. At this signal of retirement he betook himself to the duties of the closet, to hold nearer intercourse with Heaven, and fortify himself for the solemn occasion. "The people, at an early hour, had been strag- gling on the height, but kept aloof from the church, unwilling to put their minister to hazard by conven- ing in multitudes, which had been discharged as a breach of peace and good order. They collected by degrees in small scattered groups about the church- yard, occupied in dark conjectures, and waiting the minister's approach with extreme anxiety. Mr. Blackadder made his appearance with his wonted firmness and composure, and with the same placid serenity of countenance for which he was remark- able. The audience was not numerous, but every feature appeared settled into a deep and earnest con- cern. Most of them were dissolved in tears, and at many parts of the discourse there were loud and involuntary bursts of sorrow. "Towards the middle of the sermon, an alarm was given that a party of soldiers from Dumfries were on their march to seize hira, and had crossed the bridge. Upon this he closed hastily, pronounced the blessing, and retired to his chamber. The military surrounded the churchyard, and, as the people departed, they took down the names of all those who belonged to Dumfries, or any of the other parishes, as the law had affixed a penalty of twenty shillings Scots on every person absent from his own church. They offered violence to none, and went away without entering the manse, being assured that no strangers were there. When they were gone, the minister assembled the remains of the congregation in his own house, and finished the sermon, 'stand- ing on the stairhead, both the upper and lower flat being crowded to the full.' " The people seemed very loath to depart, linger- ing in suspense about the door, expressing their concern for his safety, and their willingness to shed their blood in his defence. Mr. Blackadder con- jured them to have regard to the peace of the coun- try, and give no handle to their adversaries by any disturbance. 'Go,' said he, 'and fend [provide] for yourselves: the hour is come when the shepherd is smitten, and the Hock shall be scattered. Many are this day mourning for the desolations of Israel, and weeping, like the prophet, between the porch and the altar. God's heritage has Income the prey of the spoiler; the mountain of the house of the Lord as the high places of the forest. When the faithful pastors are removed, hirelings shall intrude, whom the great Shepherd never sent, who will devour the flock, and tread down the residue with their feet. As t»r me, I have done my duty, and now there is no time to evade. I recommend you to Him who is able to keep you from falling, and am readv, through grace, to Ik: disposed of as the Lord pleases."'' After this solemn and affecting scene Mr. Black- adder went, with his wife and numerous family, to reside at Caitloch, in the parish of Glencairn, a wilder and more central part of the stewartry of Kirkcudbright. Here he soon attracted the atten- tion of the authorities by the crowds which he col- 1 Crichton's Lijc oj John BtackadJer, i2mo, iSjj. lected to hear his occasional preachings, and he was therefore obliged to remove. For some years after this period he appears to have wandered through the country, preaching whenever he could find a proper opportunity. In 1670, having performed worship at a conventicle near Dunfermline, where the people had armed themselves for self-defence, he was summoned before the privy council, but con- trived to elude their power. When the search was a little slackened he renewed his practice of itiner- ant preaching, which he not only conceived to be no offence against human laws, but a duty solemnly enjoined by the word of God. On one occasion he preached at Kinkell, near St. Andrews: the people Hocked from that metropolitan city to hear him, notwithstanding all the injunctions and surveillance of Archbishop Sharpe. It is said that, on Sharpe desiring the provost to send out the militia to dis- perse the congregation, he was informed that it was impossible — the militia had gone already as worshippers. In 1674 Blackadder was outlawed, and a reward of 1000 merks was offered for his apprehension ; but he nevertheless continued to preach occasionally to large assemblages in the fields. What may appear surprising, he often re- sided in the capital, without undergoing any annoy- ance, and contrived, notwithstanding the migratory nature of his life, to rear a large and well-instructed family. It does not appear that he approved of the insurrection of his friends which was suppressed at BothwelL Though engaged in duty immediately before this event, he fortunately was confined during the whole period of its continuance by a rheumatism, and therefore escaped all blame on that account. In 1680 he made a voyage to Holland, and settled his son at Leyden as a student of medicine, a cir- cumstance which proves that the persecution to which these clergymen were subjected was not uni- formly attended by pecuniary destitution. After spending several months in Holland, he returned to Scotland, and, in the succeeding year, was appre- hended, and confined in the state-prison upon the Bass. He remained here for four years, when at length his health declined so much, on account of the insalubrious nature of his prison, that his friends made interest to procure his liberation upon the plea that he must otherwise sink under his malady. The government at first mocked him with a proposal to transfer him to Haddington or Dunbar jail, but at length, on a more earnest and better-attested remon- strance, offered to give him liberty to reside in Edinburgh, under a bond for 5000 merks. Ere this tender mercy could be made available, he died in his islet prison, December, 1685, having nearly completed his seventieth year. John Blackadder lies interred in North Berwick churchyard, where there is an epitaph to his memory, containing, among others, the following characteristic lines: — " Grace formed him in the Christian hero's mould; Meek in his own concerns — in's Master's bold; Passions to reason chained, prudence did lead, Zeal wanned his breast, and prudence cooled his head. r ivc years on this lone rock, yet sweet abode, He Enoch-like enjoyed and walked with God; 'I ill by long-living on his heavenly food, His soul by love grew up, too great, too good, To \k confined to jail, or flesh, or blood." BLACKLOCK, Thomas, an ingenious blind poet, was born, November 10th, 1721, at Annan; his parents were natives of Cumberland; his father a bricklayer, and his mother the daughter of Mr. Richard Rae, an extensive cattle-dealer. Before he was six months old he lost his sight in the small- pox; and was tints rendered incapable of learning a THOMAS BLACKLOCK. 137 mechanical trade, while the poor circumstances to which a series of misfortunes had reduced his father, placed equally beyond his reach an education for any of those professions where the exercise of the mental faculties is principally required. His affectionate parent, aware, however, that the happiness of his son, shut out from the external world, must mainly depend upon his intellectual resources, devoted part ^ of his leisure hours to such instruction as his poor blind boy was susceptible of — he read to him, at first the books adapted to the understanding of a child, and afterwards those fitted for a maturer capa- city, such as Milton, Spenser, Prior, Pope, and Addison. His companions also, who pitied his want of sight, and loved him for his gentle disposi- tion, lent their assistance in this task of kindness; and by their help he acquired some little knowledge of Latin. Thomson and Allan Ramsay were his favourite authors; and it was as early as his twelfth year that he evinced still more decidedly his love of the poetical art by the composition of an ode, ad- dressed "To a little girl whom I had offended." Thus early did Blacklock show, that in the course of reading chosen for him, his father had not mis- taken the bent of his inclination. But though, as we have mentioned, some of his comrades delighted to forward his favourite studies, and, by their as- siduous attentions, to make him forget the depriva- tion under which he laboured, there were others who took pleasure in rendering him bitterly conscious of his misfortune, and exulted in the success of such practical jokes as it was easy to make him the sub- ject of. It is but too obvious that his own experience at this period, when exposed to the insults of un- feeling boys, suggested the reflection introduced in the article "Blind," afterwards written by him for the Encyclopedia Britannica: "Parents of middle or of higher rank," he there remarks, "who are so unfortunate as to have blind children, ought by all possible means to keep them out of vulgar company. The herd of mankind have a wanton malignity which eternally impels them to impose upon the blind, and to enjoy the painful situations in which these im- positions place them. This is a stricture upon the humanity of our species, which nothing but the love of truth and the dictates of benevolence could have extorted from us. But we have known some," he adds, evidently referring to himself, "who have suffered so much from this diabolical mirth in their own persons, that it is natural for us, by all the means in our power, to prevent others from becom- ing its victims." Blacklock lived at home till his nineteenth year, when a fresh misfortune overtook him in the loss of his father, who was crushed to death by the fall of a malt-kiln. To his keenly susceptible mind this stroke must therefore have been peculiarly afflicting. And it was attended not only with regret on account of remembered benefits, but also by the anticipation of future evils. A means of livelihood was indeed suggested by Blacklock's love of music: as he played well on the violin and flute, and even composed pieces with taste, it was proposed that he should follow this art as a profession. "But the unhappy- situation in which he was then placed," says the authority upon which this statement is given, 1 "made him dread consequences to which he could never reconcile his mind. The very thought that his time and talents should be prostrated to the forwarding of loose mirth and riot inspired him with an honest indignation." Although gloomy anticipations like 1 An article in the Gentleman's Magazine, reprintsd in the Scats Magazine for 1754. these sometimes intruded, Blacklock did not permit them to overwhelm him, but calming his fears, and resting with a pious confidence in the awards of a protecting Providence, he continued to live with his mother for a year after his father's death. Some of his poems had by this time got abroad, by which the fame of Blacklock's genius was ex- tended; and at last it reached a gentleman, who to curiosity added benevolence of heart. This was Dr. John Stevenson, a physician in Edinburgh, who, while on a professional visit in Dumfries, saw some of our author's pieces, and resolved to afford the young man's talents the opportunity of expanding in avocations and amid society more congenial to one so much restricted to pleasures of an intellectual kind. Accordingly Blacklock was, in 1741, induced to remove to the metropolis, where he attended a grammar-school for some time, and afterwards en- tered as a student in the college, Dr. Stevenson sup- plying him with the means necessary for the prose- cution of his studies. These studies were interrupted by the expedition of the Highlanders in 1745; and during the dis- tractions consequent upon that memorable campaign Blacklock resided in Dumfries with Mr. M'Murdo, his brother-in-law. On the re-establishment of peace he returned to college, and studied six years more. In this period he acquired a good knowledge of all those branches of education where he was not hindered by the want of sight; and became better skilled than was common in the French language, from being on habits of intimacy with the family of Provost Alexander, whose wife was a Parisian. It may well inspire wonder that latterly there was no science with which Blacklock had not made himself acquainted — no learned language which he did not master — and no modem tongue of any acknow- ledged use to a man of general literature, with which he was not more or less familiar. Amid the severer studies of classical learning, philosophy, and theology, his attachment to poetry was not forgotten. In 1746 a volume of his verses in Svo was published at Glasgow. A second edition followed at Edinburgh in 1754; and two years after- wards, a quarto edition, with an account of his life by Mr. Spence, professor of poetry at Oxford, came out by subscription in London. In the selection of pieces for the press Blacklock was by his friends considered to be over-fastidious; and by persisting to exclude what he himself thought unworthy of a place, he greatly limited the size of his books. By the London edition a considerable sum was realized for the author's advantage. Besides these editions of his poems, another in 4to was published in 1793, with a life elegantly written by Henry Mackenzie. Hume the historian was among the friends who early interested themselves in the fortunes of Black- lock, and was of considerable service in promoting the subscription to the London edition of his poems; but all intercourse between them was subsequently broken off. The course of study followed by Blacklock at o 1- lege was that usually gone through for the purpose of entering upon the ministry; but it was not till after the abandonment of a project (which he began to entertain in 1757, and from which he was ■:>- suaded by Mr. Hume, after making considi preparations towards it) for delivering lecture-- on oratory, that he finally adopted the resolution ot becoming a clergyman. Having applied him.-ell for some time exclusively to the necessary studies, he was licensed as a preacher by the presbytery o{ Dumfries in 1750. He soon acquired considerable I reputation as a pulpit orator, and took great delight I3S THOMAS BLACKLOCK. in composing sermons, a considerable number of which he left behind him: these it was at one time the intention of his friends to publish; but for some reason or other this has never been done. The Rev. Mr. Jameson, Blacklock's intimate com- panion, to whom allusion is more than once made in his poems, has given the following account of his habits about this time: "His manner of life was so uniform, that the history of it during one day, or one week, is the history of it during the seven years that our inter- course lasted. Reading, music, walking, conversing, and disputing on various topics, in theology, ethics, &c., employed almost every hour of our time. It was pleasant to hear him engaged in a dispute; for no man could keep his temper better than he always did on such occasions. I have known him fre- quently very warmly engaged for hours together, but never could observe one angry word to fall from him. Whatever his antagonist might say, In- always kept his temper, — 'semper paratus, et refellere sine per- tinacia, et refelli sine iracundia.' He was, however, extremely sensible to what he thought ill usage, and equally so whether it regarded himself or his friends. Hut his resentment was always confined to a few satirical verses, which were generally burned soon after. The late Mr. Spence (the editor of the 4to edition of his poems) frequently urged him to write a tragedy, and assured him that he possessed interest enough with Mr. Garrick to get it acted. Various subjects were proposed to him, several of which he approved, yet he never could be prevailed on to begin anything of that kind. It may seem remark- able, but, as far as I know, it was invariably the case, that he never could think or write on any subject proposed to him by another. I have frequently admired with what readiness and rapidity he could make verses. I have known him dictate from thirty to forty verses, and by no means bad ones, as fast as I could write them; but the moment he was at a loss far a rhyme or a verse to his liking, he stopped al- together, and could very seldom be induced to finish what he had begun with so much ardour." "All those who ever acted as his amanuenses," says Mackenzie, "agree in this rapidity and ardour of conq>osition which Mr. Jameson ascribes to him. He never could dictate till he stood up; and as his blindness made walking about without assistance inconvenient or dangerous to him, he fell insensibly into a vibrator>- sort of motion of his body, which increased as he warmed with his subject, and was pleased with the conceptions of his mind. This motion at last became habitual to him; and though he could sometimes restrain it when on ceremony, <>r in any public appearance, such as preaching, he felt a certain uneasiness from the effort, and always returned to it when he could indulge it without im- propriety. This is the appearance which he de- scribes in the ludicrous picture he has drawn of himself: ' As some vessel tossct! by wind and tide Hounds o'er the waves, and rocks from side to side, In just vibration thus I always move.'" Much of the singularity in the gestures of poor Blacklock must have proceeded from his inability to observe the carriage of others, and to regulate his own in conformity with theirs. The author of Douglas, in one of his letters, has given a curious picture of his singular appearance when under strong excitement: "I went to a companion's," says Home, "and sent for the blind poet, who is really a strange creature to look at — a small weakly under thing— a chilly, bloodless animal, that shivers at every breeze. But if nature has cheated him in one re- spect, by assigning to his share forceless sinews, and a ragged form, she has made him ample compensa- tion on the other, by giving him a mind endued with the most exquisite feelings — the most ardent, kindled- up affections; a soul, to use a poet's phrase, that's tremblingly alive all over: in short, he is the most flagrant enthusiast I ever saw; when he repeats verses, he is not able to keep his seat, but springs to his feet, and shows his rage by the most animated motions. He has promised to let me have copies of his best poems, which I will transmit to you when- ever he is as good as his word." In 1762 the Earl of Selkirk procured from the crown a presentation to the parish of Kirkcudbright in favour of Mr. Blacklock; who, having thus the prospect of a competent income, married Mrs. Sarah Johnston, daughter of Mr. Joseph Johnston, surgeon in Dumfries. But though not disappointed in the happiness he expected to derive from this union, the gleam of fortune which seems to have induced him to form it, forsook him immediately after the step was taken. He was ordained a few days after his marriage; but the people of the parish refused, on account of his blindness, to acknowledge him as their pastor, and a lawsuit was commenced, which, after two years, was compromised by Blacklock re- tiring upon a moderate annuity. It is probably to the period when he experienced so determined an opposition from the people of Kirkcudbright, that we are to refer the composition of his Paraclesis ; for he informs us in the preface that his motive for writing that work was "to alleviate the pressure of repeated disappointments, to soothe his anguish for the loss of departed friends, to elude the rage of im- placable and unprovoked enemies, — in a word, to support his own mind, which, for a number of years, besides its literary difficulties and its natural dis- advantages, had maintained an incessant conflict with fortune." At no other period but that above referred to, are we aware that Blacklock was the object of anything like an angry feeling. In 1764, after the connection between him and the parish of Kirkcudbright was dissolved, Black - lock removed to Edinburgh, where he received boarders into his house, 1 superintending the studies of those who chose to have such assistance. "In this occupation," says Mackenzie, "no teacher was perhaps ever more agreeable to his pupils, nor master of a family to its inmates, than Dr. Blacklock. The gentleness of his manners, the benignity of his disposition, and that warm interest in the happiness of others which led him so constantly to promote it, were qualities that could not fail to procure him the love and regard of the young people committed to his charge; Avhile the society which esteem and re- spect for his character and his genius often assembled at his house, afforded them an advantage rarely to be found in establishments of a similar kind. The writer of this account has frequently been a witness of the family scene at Dr. Blacklock's; has seen the good man amidst the circle of his young friends, eager to do him all the little offices of kindness which he seemed so much to merit and to feel. In this society he appeared entirely to forget the privation of sight, and the melancholy which, at other times, it might produce. He entered with the cheerful playfulness of a young man into all the sprightly narrative, the sportful fancy, the humorous jest, that rose around him." In these hours of social relaxation Blacklock found 1 He occupied the two upper flats of a house at the west end of West Nicolson Street, looking towards St. Cuthbert's Chapel of Ease burying-gruund. THOMAS BLACKLOCK. 139 one of the greatest pleasures of his existence. M usic also afforded him a lively gratification; for he sung with taste, and performed tolerably well on several instruments, particularly on the flute. He had learned to play on the flageolet in consequence of a dream in which he supposed himself to listen to the most enchanting melody, produced by a shepherd on a hillside from that instrument; and he always carried one in his pocket, on which he was by no means averse from being asked to perform — "a natural feeling," says Mackenzie, "for a blind man, who thus adds a scene to the drama of his society." We have already alluded to his skill in composition, which was begun early at least, if it was not very assiduously cultivated. There is a specimen of his abilities in this way in the Edinburgh Magazine and Review for 1774, under the title of "Absence, a Pastoral, set to music by Ur. Blacklock." Finding that his increasing years and infirmities required repose, Dr. Blacklock discontinued the keeping of boarders in 1787. But though his bodily vigour began to fail, he experienced no diminution of that benevolence which had ever characterized him. His own genius having been greatly indebted to patronage, he was ever ready to acknowledge it in others, and especially to cultivate and bring it into reputation where he found it struggling with obscurity. Nor were his efforts for this puqiose confined to occasional acts of liberality — they were laborious and long-continued. He had taken a boy from a village near Carlisle to lead him, and per- ceiving in the youth a willingness to learn, taught him Latin, Greek, and French, and having thus fitted him for a station superior to that in which he was born, procured for him the situation of secretary to Lord Milton, who was chief active manager of state affairs in Scotland for many years. This young man was Richard Hewitt, known to the admirer of Scottish song as the author of Roslin Castle. Hewitt testified his gratitude to his instructor by a copy of complimentary verses, in every line of which may be traced the chief excellence of compositions of that description — sincerity; but he did not long enjoy his change of fortune, having died in 1764 from the fatigue of the office to which he had been elevated. But we find a still more eminent example of Blacklock's solicitude to promote the interests of the sons of genius, in his being the first man among the literary circles of Edinburgh who appreciated the poetry of Burns (perhaps, indeed, because he had the earliest opportunity of becoming acquainted with it), and kindled in the author the ambition of a prize beyond that of provincial fame. The Rev. Mr. Lawrie of Newmills had transmitted to Blacklock a copy of the Kilmarnock edition of Burns' poems. It is not easy for a modern reader to understand with what wonder and delight Blacklock must have heard them read. With calmness, yet with energy, the enthusiastic Blacklock indicated his own admiration and the certainty of the poet's future fame: — "Many instances," he wrote to Mr. Lawrie, "have I seen of nature's force and beneficence exerted under numerous and formidable disadvantages; but none equal to that with which you have been kind enough to present me. There is a pathos and delicacy in his serious poems, a vein of wit and humour in those of a more festive turn, which cannot be too much admired nor too warmly approved. I think I shall never open the book without feeling my astonish- ment renewed and increased. — It were much to be wished, for the sake of the young man, that a second edition, more numerous than the former, could im- mediately be printed; as it appears certain that its intrinsic merit, and the exertion of the author's friends, might give it a more universal circulation than anything of the kind which has l>een published within my memory." — "I had taken the last farewell of my few friends," says Burns; "my chest was on the road to Greenock; I had composed the last song I should ever measure in Scotland — 'The Gloomy night is gathering fast' — when a letter from Dr. Blacklock to a friend of mine overthrew all my schemes, by opening new prospects to my poetic ambition. The doctor belonged to a set of crit cs for whose applause I had not dared to hope. His opinion that I would meet with encouragement in Edinburgh for a second edition, fired me so much, that away I posted for that city, without a single acquaintance, or a single letter of introduction." — "Blacklock received him," says Dr. Currie, "with all the ardour of affectionate admiration; he eagerly introduced him to the respectable circle of his friends; he consulted his interest; he emblazoned his fame; he lavished upon him all the kindness of a generous and feeling heart, into which nothing selfish or envious ever found admittance." — "In Dr. Blacklock," Burns himself writes to Mr. Lawrie, "in Dr. Blacklock, whom I see very often, I have found what I would have expected in our friend, — a clear head and an excellent heart." It is not our business, in this place, to trace Burns' career far- ther. Dr. Blacklock's duty towards him was per- formed when he had bestowed upon him every mark of private regard, and consigned him to the care of more influential patrons. Besides the miscellaneous poems by which Dr. Blacklock is best known as an author, he published several other works. In 1756 he gave to the world an Essay taivards Universal Etymology; in 1760, The Right Improvement of Time, a Sermon; in the en- suing year another sermon, entitled Faith, Hope, and Charity compared. In 1767 appeared his Paraclesis ; or, Consolations deduced from Natural and Revealed Religion, in two dissertations, the first supposed to be Cicero's, translated by Dr. Blacklock, — the other written by himself. This work, to use the author's own touching words, "was begun and pursued by its author to divert wakeful and melancholy hours, which the recollection of past misfortunes, and the sense of present inconveniences, would otherwise have severely embittered." He endeavours, but without success, to prove the authenticity of the dis- sertation ascribed to Cicero, which he has translated with fidelity and elegance: the object of the original discourse is to prove the superiority of the consola- tions afforded by revealed religion. In 176S he printed Two Discourses on the Spirit and Evidences of Christianity, translated from the French of Mr. James Armand. To this work he prefixed a long dedication to the moderator of the General Assembly. In 1773 appeared his Panegyric on Great Britain, which shows him to have possessed considerable talents for satire had he chosen to pursue that species of writing. His last production was in 1774. The Graham, an Heroic Ballad, in Tour Cantos ; intended to promote a good understanding between the na- tives of England and Scotland. He contributed to the Encyclopedia Britannica, in 1 7^5« ,nc article "Blind'' — a little treatise of peculiar interest. _ He is also said to have written the ' " Essay on 1 'oet ry, "and others on various subjects in the same work. I 'r. Blacklock left behind him in manuscript some volumes of sermons, and a treatise on morals. In his latter years our author was occasionally afflicted with deafness— in his case a double mity, as at the periods when it visited him. he was in a manner shut out from all communication with the external world. In this forlorn c md.liun — old, 140 ALEXANDER AND ELIZABETH BLACKWELL. blind, and sometimes deaf— it was more difficult for him than formerly to bear up against the depression of spirits to which he had always been more or less subject; but his gentleness of temper never forsook him, and though he could not altogether avoid com- plaint, he was not loath to discover and state some alleviating circumstance along with it. He died from fever after a week's illness, on the 7th July, 1791, and was buried in the ground of St. Cuthbert's chapel of ease, where there is a tombstone erected, with the following inscription by Dr. Beattie: — " Viro Reverendo Thomat Blacklock, D.D. Probo, Pio, Benevolo, Omnigena Doctrina Erudito, Poetce sublimi; ab incunabulis usque oculis capto, at hilari, faceto, amicisque semper carrissimo; qui natus xxi Novemb. MDCCXX. obiit VII Julii, MDCCXCI: Hoc Monumentum Vidua ejus Sara Johnston, moerens P." It has been said of Dr. Blacklock, that "he never lost a friend, nor made a foe;'' and perhaps no literary man ever passed through life so perfectly free from envious feeling, and so entirely respected and beloved. His conversation was lively and en- tertaining; his wit was acknowledged, but it had no tinge of malice; his temper was gentle, his feelings warm — intense; his whole character was one to which may be applied the epithet amiable, without any qualification. To Dr. Blacklock as a poet, the rank of first-rate excellence has not been assigned, and is not claimed; but his works possess solid merits, which will always repay a perusal. The thoughts are, for the most part, vigorous, seldom less than just; and they are conveyed with a certain intensity of expression, which shows them, even when not uncommon in themselves, to be the offspring of a superior genius. BLACKWELL, Alexander and Elizabeth, husband and wife. The former was brother to the more celebrated Dr. Thomas Plackwell, the subject of the following article. His father, Thomas Black- well, was at first minister of Paisley, whence he was removed, in 1700, to be one of the ministers of Aberdeen. He was there appointed to be professor of divinity in the Marischal College, and afterwards, in 1717, raised by the crown to the rank of principal, which he held till his death in 1728. Alexander, his son, exhibited at an early period such symptoms of genius as induced his father to employ great personal care in his education. At fifteen he was a perfect Creek and Latin scholar, and he after- wards distinguished himself very highly at college. It would appear that his union to Elizabeth Black- well, who was the daughter of a merchant at Aberdeen, took place under clandestine circum- stances, and was connected with a step which gave a direction to all his future fortunes. This was a secret elopement to London, where he arrived before any of his friends knew where he was. Ulack- well appears to have been a man of mercurial and adventurous temperament; possessing, with these qualities, exactly that degree of ability and accom- plishment which has enabled so many of his country- men to prosecute a successful career in London. His first employment was that of corrector of the pre>s to Mr. Wilkins, an eminent printer. After- wards, he was enabled to set up as a printer on his own account, and for this purpose he occupied a large house in the Strand. But he did not long pursue this business before an action was brought again>t him for not having served a regular ap- prenticeship to it. The unsuccessful defence of this action ruined him, and one of his creditors threw him into jail, where he remained two years. Hitherto we hear nothing of his wife- and, perhaps, but for the misfortunes of the husband, the virtues of this noble woman might have only de- corated a private station. Like the flower, however, which blooms most by night, the better quality of woman's nature is chiefly developed under the cloud of sorrow; and it is only when the powers of man have been prostrated, or found of no avail, that her weakness shines forth in its real character — latent strength. Elizabeth Blackwell happened to possess a taste for drawing flowers; — a taste then so very rare, that there was hardly any engraved work in existence containing representations of this interest- ing department of creation. The acknowledged want of a good herbal occurred to her as affording the means of exerting this gift in a useful way; and some of her first attempts being submitted to Sir Hans Sloane, Dr. Mead, and other eminent physicians, she soon received sufficient encouragement to pro- ceed in her work. A document, attesting their satisfaction with Mrs. Blackwell's specimens, and recommending her contemplated work to public attention, was signed by six eminent physicians, in- cluding these gentlemen, and bears date "October 1, 1735." By the advice of Mr. Rand, an eminent apothecary, demonstrator to the Company of Apothe- caries in the botanic garden at Chelsea, Mrs. Blackwell hired a house near that establishment, where she had an opportunity of receiving the necessary flowers and plants in a fresh state, as she wanted them; she also received great encouragement and assistance from Mr. Philip Miller, so well known for his publications connected with horticulture. Mrs. Blackwell not only made drawings of the flowers, but she also engraved them on copper, and coloured the prints with her own hands. Her husband lent all the aid in his power, by attaching the Latin names of the plants, together with a short account of their principal characters and uses, chiefly taken, by permission, from Miller's Botaniaim Officinale. The first volume of the work appeared in 1737, in large folio, containing two hundred and fifty-two plates, each of which is occupied by one distinct flower or plant, and was dedicated to Dr. Mead, with the following address: "As the world is indebted to the encouragers of every public good, if the following undertaking should prove such, it is but justice to declare who have been the chief pro- moters of it; and as you were the first who advised its publication, and honoured it with your name, give me leave to tell the readers how much they are in your debt for this work, and to acknowledge the honour of your friendship." The second volume, completing the number of plates to five hundred, appeared in 1739, and was inscribed to Mr. Rand, in an address breathing as fervent a spirit of grati- tude, and acknowledging that, in her own ignorance of botany, she was entirely obliged to him for the completeness of the work, so far as it went. The drawings are in general faithful; and if there is wanting that accuracy which modern improvements have rendered necessary in delineating the more minute parts, yet, upon the whole, the figures are sufficiently distinctive of the subjects. The style of the engravings is what would now be called hard, but it is fully on a level with the prevailing taste of the age; and, as a piece of labour, executed, it would appear, in the space of four years, by the hands of one woman, the whole work is entitled alike to our wonder and admiration. While Mrs. Blackwell was proceeding in her task, she attracted the attention of many persons of eminent rank and character, and also a great number of scientific persons, who visited her at Chelsea, and afforded her many marks of kindness. On the completion of the first volume, ALEXANDER AND ELIZABETH BLACKWELL THOMAS ELACKWELL. 141 she was permitted in person to present a copy to the College of Physicians, who acknowledged her extra- ordinary merit by a handsome present, as well as a testimonial, under the hands of the president and censors of the institution, characterizing her work as "most useful," and recommending it to the public. It seems to have been at this period of her labours, that, after having all along supported her family by her own exertions, she was enabled to redeem her husband from confinement. Blackwell, after his release, lived for some time at Chelsea with his wife, and, on her account, was much respected. He attempted to perfect himself in the study of physic, and also formed schemes for the improvement of waste lands. This latter subject he studied to such a degree, as to be enabled to write an agricultural treatise, which attracted some attention. Among his other occupations for some time, was a prosecution which he entered into against some printsellers, for pirating his wife's botanical plates. By his success in this affair, he revenged in some measure the persecution to which he had been subjected for his inadvertent breach of another exclusive law. His agricultural know- ledge gradually became known, and he was often consulted on difficult points connected with that science, and received handsome fees for his trouble. At one time he was employed by the Duke of Chandos in superintending some agricultural opera- tions at Cannons. His work on agriculture, which was published at this time, recommended him to the attention of a still higher patronage — the Swedish ambassador, who, having transmitted a copy to his court, was directed to engage the author, if possible, to go to Stockholm. Blackwell accepted this en- gagement, and sailed for the Swedish capital, leaving his wife and one child in England, with a promise that he would soon send for them. He was received in the kindest manner at the court of Stockholm, was lodged in the house of the prime minister, and was allowed a pension. The King of Sweden happening soon after to be taken dangerously ill, Blackwell was permitted to prescribe for him, and had the good fortune to effect a cure. lie was consequently appointed one of the king's physicians, and styled doctor, though it does not appear that he ever took a degree in medicine. While enjoying all this good fortune, he was not forgetful of his wife, but sent her several sums of money, and she was on the point of sailing to join him at Stockholm, when all his prospects, and life itself, were overwhelmed at one blow. It is probable, from the character of his brother Thomas, that he was a fervent admirer of the principles of civil liberty. Nothing, moreover, can be more probable than that a man, accustomed to all the freedom of speech which is so harmlessly permitted in Britain, might not very readily accom- modate himself to that prudence of the tongue which is demanded from the subjects of an arbitrary monarchy. It is at least certain that he was appre- hended on suspicion of being connected with a plot which had been formed by one Count Tessin, for overturning the constitution of the kingdom, and altering the line of succession. Being put to the torture, he is alleged to have confessed a concern in this conspiracy. Every reader, however, will ac- knowledge, that confessions under the torture form historical documents of a very questionable nature. Being tried for his supposed offence before a roval commission, he was sentenced to be broken alive on the wheel, and put to the death of a traitor. In the course of his trial some imputations were thrown upon his Britannic Majesty, for which, in conjunction with other circumstances, the British ambassador was recalled from Stockholm. The unfortunate Blackwell was executed, July 29th, 1747, but not, it would appear, with the tortures assigned by his sentence. On the scaffold he protested to the people his entire innocence of the crimes laid to his charge, and, as the best proof of what he stated, pointed out his utter want of all motive for engaging in an attempt against the government. He prayed with great devotion ; but happening to lay his head wrong upon the block, he remarked good- humouredly, that, as this was his first experiment, no wonder he required a little instruction. 1 The date of Mrs. Blackwell's death is not ascertained. Her work was afterwards republished on the Con- tinent. BLACKWELL, Thomas, the restorer of Greek literature in the north of Scotland, and a learned writer of the eighteenth century, was brother to the subject of the preceding article. He was born at Aberdeen, August 4th, 1 701, and after receiving the rudiments of his education at the grammar-school of his native city, 2 entered his academical course at the Marischal College, where he took the degree of A.M. in 1718. A separate professorship of Greek had not existed in this seminary previous to 1700, and the best of the ancient languages was at that period very little cultivated in Scotland. Blackwell, having turned his attention to Greek, was honoured, in 1723, when only twenty-two years of age, with a crown appointment to this chair. He entered upon the discharge of the duties of his office with the utmost ardour. It perfectly suited his inclination and habits. He was an enthusiastic admirer of the language and literature of Greece, and the whole bent of his studies was exclusively devoted to the cultivation of polite learning. He had the merit of rearing some very eminent Greek scholars, among whom may be mentioned Principal George Camp- bell, Dr. Alexander Gerard, and Dr. James Beattie. The last has borne ample testimony to the merit of his master in his Essay on the Utility of Classical Learning, where he styles Principal Blackwell "a very learned author." Dr. Blackwell first appeared before the public as an author in 1737. His Inquiry into the Life and Writings of Homer was published at London during the course of that year, but without his name. It 1 Soon after the death of Blackwell appeared A Genuine Co/>y of a Letter from a .Merchant in Stockholm, to his Corres- pondent in London, "containing an impartial account of I 'r. Alexander Blackwell, his plot, trial, character, and behaviour, both under examination and at the place of execution, together with a copy of a paper delivered to a friend upon the scaffold, in which he denied the crime imputed to him." This publica- tion does not appear to have been genuine, and as it contains some particulars of the life of Blackwell totally at variam e with the above more authentic and probable account, which is chiefly derived from a letter signed G. J. and dated from Bath, in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1747. we have entirely re- jected it. This spurious work is. nevertheless, chiefly use I 1 y Mr. Nichols, in an account of Blackwell given in the Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century. - The history of the origin of what are technically, ;n Sc :- land, denominated grammar-schools, is involve : able obscurity. The probability is. that they were in m >-t cases founded by generous individuals, who wished wcl 1 cause of literature, and who. to secure that proper are sh be taken in the management of the ; un is 1 y which :. e estab- lishment was supported, vested the m ney aj : that purpose in some | re r. rati I: admit .if a d lubt. that this to< k pin e ;:i several f the : nn :- pal Lettish burghs; hut it is very singular, :':. t th se - :h !s were limited to the Latin language a! ne. ! I lis ; r from the dread that there was a le-ign in i su 1 seminaries to supersede universir.es, whore Latin, Grci - Hebrew were taught. The grammar-sch I f Aberdeen was founded by Dr. Patrick Dim. r'\: :: il f Marischal I who was a n.v... resided at Padua, where he took his degree u! Doctor oi Medici:. e. 142 THOMAS BLACKWELL ADAM BLACKWOOD. has been positively affirmed, with what tnith it is impossible to say, that its being anonymous was in imitation of Lord Shaftesbury, of whom he was a warm admirer, and whose works were published after that manner. The style, also, is vitiated by a perpetual effort at the Shaftesburian vein, which is perhaps, the principal fault in the writings of Blackwell. A second edition of the work appeared in 1746, and shortly after, Proofs of the Inquiry into Hornet's Life and Writings. These proofs chiefly consisted of a translation of the Greek, Latin, Spanish, Italian, and French notes subjoined to the original work. The Inquiry contains a great deal of research, as well as a display of miscellaneous learning. Perhaps its principal defect consists in the author's discovering an over-anxiety in regard to both; at least, he has not been sufficiently careful to guard against the imputation of sometimes going out of his way to show what labour he had bestowed in examining every source of information, both ancient and modern, foreign and domestic. Though the life of Homer has been written by Herodotus, by Plutarch, and by Suidas, among the Greeks, and by an innumerable host of writers scattered through other nations, yet there is hardly one point in his history about which they are agreed, excepting the prodigious merit of his poems, and the sophist Zoilus would not even grant this. How great uncertainty prevailed respecting the time and place of his birth, abundantly appears from seven Grecian cities con- tending in regard to the latter point. When the field was so extensive, and so great diversity of opinion prevailed, it cannot fail to be perceived how arduous an enterprise Dr. Blackwell had undertaken. His criticisms on the poems themselves are always encomiastic, often ingenious, and delivered in lan- guage that can give no reasonable ground of offence. The work will be read with both pleasure and profit by all who are prepared to enter upon such inquiries. It is generally esteemed the best of his performanc -. He published, in 174S. Letters concerning Myt/10- logy, without his name also. In the course of the same year he was advanced to be principal of his college, succeeding Dr. John Osborne, who died upon the 19th of August. Dr. Blackwell, however, was not admitted to the exercise of his new office till the subsequent 9th of November. The first object of his attention respected the discipline of the college. Great irregularities had crept into the institution, not in his predecessor's time only, but probably almost from its foundation. Through the poverty of the generality of the students in those days, their attendance, short as the session was allowed to be. was very partial; to correct this he considered to be indispensably necessary. Accord- ingly, ab iut the middle of October, 1749, previous t) the commencement of the session, an advertise- in the public papers informed the students that a more regular attendance was to be required. Tiiis, it would appear, did not produce the intended Accordingly, to show that the principal and professors were perfectly in earnest when they gave this public notice, three of the bursars, who had not complied with the terms of the advertisement, were, on the 10th of Nov. ruber, expelled. This decision general satisfaction, and indeed deserved high commendation. But, that the profe ; ors themselves might be more alert and attentive to their duty, he revived a prac- • ' 1 ich, it is likely, hul at an early period been common, for every professor in the university to ■r a discourse in the public school upon some ' I with his pi ifc -:■ :.. He himself set the example, and delivered his first oration upon the 7th of February, 1749. When Blackwell was promoted to the principality, instead of sinking into indolence, he seems to have considered it rather as affording an excitement to exertion. In February, 1750, he opened a class for the instruction of the students in ancient history, geography, and chrono- logy. Prelections on these branches of education he thought necessary to render more perfect the course at Marischal College. He, therefore, himself undertook the task. The design of his opening this class evidently was to pave the way for the introduc- tion of a new plan of teaching into Marischal College, which, accordingly, he soon after accomplished. At the commencement of the session 1752, public notice was given that "the principal, professors, and masters, having long had under their consideration the present method of academical education, the plan of which, originally introduced by the scholastic divines in the darkest times, is more calculated for disputes and wrangling than to fit men for the duties of life, therefore have resolved to introduce a new order in teaching the sciences." The order which was then adopted, is what still continues in force in that university. Three years afterwards, when the new- plan had been put to the trial for as many sessions, the faculty of the college ordered an account of the plan of education which was followed to be printed. This formed a pamphlet of thirty-five pages. It concludes thus: — "They have already begun to ex- perience the public approbation by the increase of the number of their students." So that he had the agreeable pleasure of witnessing the success of the plan he had proposed. In 1752 he took the degree of Doctor of Laws, and in the subsequent year was published, in quarto, the first volume of Memoirs of the Court of Augustus. A second volume appeared in 1755, and a third, which was posthumous, and left unfinished by the author, was prepared for the press by John Mills, Esq., and published in 1764. In this work the author has endeavoured to give an account of Roman literature as it appeared in the Augustan age, and he has executed the task with no small share of success. Objections might easily be started to some of his theories and opinions, but -every classical scholar who is fond of literary history will peruse the work with pleasure as well as profit. Dr. Blackwell died at Edinburgh, upon the 6th of March, 1757- He- was certainly a very extraordi- nary person, and like every man of acknowledged talents, formed a very general subject of conversation. He was formal, and even pompous. 1 1 is dress was after the fashion of the reign of Queen Anne. The portly mien and dignified manner in which he stepped through the public school, impressed all the students with a deep sense of his professional importance, lie was, nevertheless, kind and indulgent to them, ami of a benevolent disposition. lie left a widow, but no children. Mrs. Blackwell, in 1793, founded a chemical professorship in Marischal College, and appointed a premium of ten pounds sterling to be annually bestowed on the person who should com- pose, and deliver, in the English language, the best discourse upon a given literary subject. BLACKWOOD, Adam, a learned writer of the sixteenth century, was born at Dunfermline, in 1539. 1 le was descended from an ancient and respectable family; his father, William Blackwood, was slain in battle ere he was ten years of age (probably at Pinkie-field); his mother, Helen Reid, who was niece to Robert Reid, Bishop of Orkney, 1 m after, of grief for the loss of her bus- ADAM BLACKWOOD WILLIAM BLACKWOOD. »43 band. By his uncle, the bishop, he was sent to the university of Paris, but was soon obliged to return, on account of the death of his distinguished relation. Scotland, at this time, was undergoing the agonies of the reformation, under the regency of Mary of Lorrain. Blackwood found it no proper sphere for his education; and therefore soon returned to Paris, where, by the liberality of his youthful sovereign, Queen Mary, then residing at the court of France, he was enabled to complete his studies, and to go through a course of civil law at the uni- versity of Toulouse. Having now acquired some reputation for learning and talent, he was patronized by James Beaton, the expatriated Archbishop of Glasgow, who recommended him very warmly to Queen Mary and her husband, the Dauphin, by whose influence he was chosen a member of the parliament of Poitiers, and afterwards appointed to be professor of civil law at that court. Poitiers was henceforth the constant residence of Blackwood, and the scene of all his literary exertions. His first work was one entitled, De Vinculo A'eli- gionis et Imperii, Libri Duo, Paris, 1 575, to which a third book was added in 1612. The object of this work is to show the necessity under which rulers are laid, of preserving the true — i.e. the Catholic — reli- gion from the innovations of heretics, as all rebellions arise from that source. Blackwood, by the native tone of his mind, the nature of his education, and the whole train of his associations, was a faithful adherent of the Church of Rome, and of the prin- ciples of monarchical government. His next work developed these professions in a more perfect manner. It was entitled, Apologia pro Kegibus, and professed to be an answer to George Buchanan's work, De Jure Regni apud Scoios. Both of these works argue upon extreme and unfair principles. Buchanan seeks to apply to the simple feudal government of Scotland — a monarchical aristocracy — all the maxims of the Roman republicans. Blackwood, on the other hand, is a slavishly devout advocate for the divine right of kings. In replying to one of Buchanan's positions, the apologist of kings says, very gravely, that if one of the scholars at St. Leonard's College were to argue in that manner, he would richly deserve to be whipped. Both of the above works are in Latin. He next published, in French, an account of the death of his benefactress, Queen Mary, under the title, Marlyre de Maria Stuart, Keyne d 'Escosse, Antwerp, Svo, 15SS. This work is conceived in a tone of bitter resentment regarding the event to which it refers. He addresses himself, in a vehement strain of passion, to all the princes of Europe to avenge her death; declaring that they are unworthy of royalty if they are not roused on so interesting and pressing an occasion. At the end of the volume is a collection of poems in Latin, French, and Italian, upon Mary and Elizabeth; in which the former princess is praised for every excellence, while her murderess is character- ized by every epithet expressive of indignation and hate. An anagram was always a good weapon in those days of conceit and false ta>te; and one which we find in this collection was no doubt looked upon as a most poignant stab at the Queen of England: — F.I.IZAHF.TV TEtTFRA Vade, Jezebel tetka. Tn 159S Blackwood published a manr.nl of devo- tions under the title, Saiic.'aruin Preeatiouum Free- viia, which he dedicated to his venerable patron, the Archbishop of Glasgow. The cause of his writing this bonk was. that by reading much at night he had so weakened his eyes, as to be unable to distinguish his own children at the distance of two or three yards: in the impossibility of employing himself in study, he was prevailed upon, by the advice of the archbishop, to betake himself to a custom of nocturnal prayer, and hence the composi- tion of this book. In 1606 Blackwood published a Latin poem on the inauguration of James VI. as King of Great Britain. In 1609 appeared at Poitiers a complete collection of his Latin poems. He died in 1623, in the seventy-fourth year of his age, leaving four sons (of whom one attained to his own senatorial dignity in the parliament of Poitiers), and seven daughters. He was most splendidly interred in St. Porcharius' church at Poitiers, where a marble monument was reared to his memory, charged with a long panegyrical epitaph. In 1644 appeared his Opera Omnia, in one vol. 4to., edited by the learned Naudeus, who prefixes an elaborate eulogium upon the author. Blackwood was not only a man of con- summate learning and great genius, but is allowed to have also fulfilled, in life, all the duties of a good man. BLACKWOOD, Henry, brother to the subject of the preceding article, and his senior by some years, was educated under nearly similar circum- stances, and, in 155 1, he taught philosophy in the university of Paris. I laving afterwards applied him- self to the study of medicine, he rose to be dean of that faculty at Paris, an office of the very highest dignity which could then be reached by a member of the medical profession. He appears to have been one of the earliest modern physicians who gave a sanction to the practice of letting blood. He published various treatises on medicine, and also upon philosophy, of which a list is preserved in Mackenzie's Lives of Scots Writers. He acted at one time as physician to the Duke of Longueville, with a salary of 200 pistoles. At another time, when the plague prevailed at Paris, he remained in the city, and exerted himself so zealously in the cure of his numerous patients, as to gain universal ap- plause. He died in 1613 or 1614, at a very advanced age. ELACK WOOD, William, an eminent publisher, and originator of the magazine which bears his name, was born in Edinburgh, November 20, 1 77^, of parents who, though in humble circumstances, bore a respectable character, and were able to give this and their other children an excellent elementary education. At the age of fourteen he commenced an apprenticeship with Messrs. Bell and Bradfute, booksellers in his native city, with whom he con- tinued six years. During this time he stored hi ; mind with a large fund of miscellaneous reading, which was of great service to him in after-life. It is probable that he at the same time manifested no common talents for business, as, soon after the ex- piration of his apprenticeship [1797], he was selected by Messrs. J. Mundell and Company, then earning on an extensive publishing business in the Scottish capital, to take the charge of a branch of their c< n- cern which they had resolved to establish in Glasgi w. Mr. Blackwood acted as the Glasgow agent < f Mundell and Company for a year, during \ time he improved greatly as a man ol businer-s. Thrown in a great measure upon his own resi urc( -. he here acquired habits of < : . ision, such rarely formed at so early an age, an i \ afterwards of the greatest importance to him. Hav- ing also occasion to write frequently to his i :i- stituents, he formed a style for commercial corres- pondence, the excel! :ic: f which was 1 -ub : : frequent remark at a later • : I : .. - ..;e. 144 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD. At the end of the year, when the business he had conducted at Glasgow was given up, Mr. Black- wood returned to Messrs. Bell and Bradfute, with whom he continued about a year longer. He then (1S00) entered into partnership with Mr. Robert Ross, a bookseller of some standing, who also acted as an auctioneer of books. Not long after, finding the line of business pursued by -Mr. Ross uncon- genial to his taste, he retired from the partnership, and, proceeding to London, placed himself, for improvement in the antiquarian department of his trade, under Mr. Cuthill. Returning once more to Edinburgh in 1S04, he set up on his own account in a shop in South Bridge Street, where for several years he confined his attention almost exclusively to the department just alluded to, in which he was allowed to have no rival of superior intelligence in Scotland. The catalogue of old books which he published in 1812, being the first of the kind in which the books were classified, and which referred to a stock of uncommon richness and variety, con- tinues till the present day to be a standard authority for the prices of old books. At this period of his career Mr. Blackwood l)ecame agent for several of the first ixmdon publishing houses, and also began to publish extensively for himself. In 1S16, having resolved to throw a larger share of his energies into the latter department of business, he sold off his stock of old books, and removed to a shop in the new town, soon to become one of the most memorable localities connected with modern literary history. For a considerable time Mr. Blackwood had been of opinion that something like the same regeneration which the Edinburgh /teviewhad given to periodical criticism, might be communicated to that species of miscellaneous literature which chiefly assumed the monthly form of publication. At this time the Scots Magazine of his native city, which had never pretended to any merit above that of a correct register, was scarcely in any respect more flat and insipid than the publications of the same kind in London. It was reserved for the original and ener- getic mind of the subject of this memoir, to raise this department of popular literature from the humble state in which it had hitherto existed, or to which, when we recollect the labours of Johnson and Gold- smith, we may rather say it had sunk, and to place it on the eminence for which it was evidently fitted. The first number of Blackwood's Magazine appeared in April, 1S17, and, though bearing more resem- blance to preceding publications of the same kind than it afterwards assumed, the work was from the first acknowledged by the public to possess superior merit. The publishers of the elder magazines made an almost immediate, though indirect confession to this effect, by attempts to put new and more attrac- tive faces upon their publications, and stimulate the lagging energies of those who conducted them. The two young men who were chiefly engaged upon the work of Mr. Blackwood, having disagreed with him, were employer! by Mr. Constable to take the charge of the Scots Magazine, which he, like others in simi- lar circumstances, was endeavouring to resuscitate from the slumbers of a century. Mr. Blackwood was already more than independent of these gentle- men, in consequence of the aid which he was receiv- ing from other quarters; but bitter feelings had nevertheless been engendered, and these found vent, through the fancy of some of his new contributors, in the celebrated article in the seventh number of his magazine, styled Translation of a Chaldee Manu- script. In this/Vtt tfaprit, the circumstances of the late feud, and the efforts of Mr. Constable to repair the fortunes of his ancient magazine, were thrown into a form the most burlesque that ever imagination conceived, though certainly with very little of the ill nature which the article unfortunately excited in the most of those who figured in it. In consequence of the painful feelings to which it gave rise, Mr. Black- wood cancelled it from all the copies within his reach; and it is now, consequently, very rarely to be met with. Blackwood's Magazine, as already hinted, had not been in progress for many months before it obtained the support of new and unexpected talent. Mr. John Wilson, already distinguished by his beautiful poetry, and Mr. John G. Lockhart, whose more regular, though perhaps less brilliant genius after- wards found a fitting field in the management of the Quarterly Review, were at this time young men en- deavouring to make their way at the Scottish bar. Having formed an attachment to Mr. Blackwood, they threw into his literary repertory the overflow- ing bounties of two minds, such as rarely rise singly, and much more rarely together; and soon enchained the attention of the public to a series of articles not more remarkable for their ability, than for an almost unexampled recklessness of humour and severity of sarcasm. It is not to be denied that much offence was thus occasionally given to the feelings of indi- viduals; but, in extenuation of any charge which can be rested on such grounds, it may be pointed out that, while Mr. Blackwood had his own causes of complaint in the ungenerous hostility of several of his commercial brethren, the whimsical genius of his contributors had unquestionably found a general provocation in the overweening pretensions and ungracious deportment of several of their literary seniors, some of whom had, in their own youth, manifested equal causticity, with certainly no greater show of talent. To these excuses must be added the relative one of politics. Mr. Blackwood from the first took a strong part with the existing Tory government, which in Edinburgh had been power- fully supported heretofore in every manner except by the pen, while the opposition had long possessed a literary organ of the highest authority. In treat- ing, therefore, of seme of the juvenile indiscretions of this extraordinary work, and those connected with it, we must, if willing to preserve impartiality, re- collect the keenness with which politics and political men were then discussed. In the management of the magazine, Mr. Black- wood at all times bore in his own person the prin- cipal share. The selection of articles, the corres- pondence with contributors, and other duties con- nected with editorship, were performed by him during a period of seventeen years, with a degree of skill on which it is not too much to say that no small portion of the success of the work depended. In its earlier years he contributed two or three articles himself; but to this, as a practice, he had a decided objection, as he could easily perceive that an editor, especially one like himself not trained to letters, is apt to be biassed respecting his own compositions. It may easily be conceived, however, that, in the management of the literary and mercantile concerns of such a work, there was sufficient employment for even a man of his extraordinary energies. And no small praise must it ever be to the subject of this brief memoir, that, during so long a period, he maintained in his work so much of the vivid spirit with which it set out; kept up so unfailing a suc- cession of brilliant articles in general literature, altogether exclusive of the regular papers of Mr. Wilson,— as if he were exhausting mind after mind among the literary men of his country, and still at no loss to discover new; and never throughout his HUGH BLAIR. 145 whole career, varied in a single page from the political key-note which he had struck at the com- mencement. To have done these things, and with so much apparent ease to himself, and so little ostentation — -for these were features in his masterly career — argues, inouropinion, acharacterofunwonted vigour, as well as no small share of intellectual power. The magazine eventually reached a circulation not much short of ten thousand copies, and, while reprinted in North America, found its way from the publisher's warehouse into every other part of the world where the English language was spoken. Notwithstanding the great claims it made upon his time, Mr. Blackwood continued till his death to transact a large share of business as a general pub- lisher. Not long before that event, he completed the Edinburgh Encyclopedia, in eighteen volumes quarto, and among his other more important publications, may be reckoned Kerr's Collection of Voyages and Travels, in eighteen volumes octavo. The chief distinct works of Messrs. Wilson, Lock- hart, Hogg, Moir, Gait, and other eminent persons connected with his magazine, and some of the writ- ings of Sir Walter Scott, were published by Mr. Blackwood. lie also continued till the close of his career to carry on an extensive trade in retail bookselling. Mr. Blackwood died, September 16, 1834, after a painful illness of four months. His disease, a tumour in the groin, had in that time exhausted his physical energies, but left his temper calm and un- ruffled, and his intellect entire and vigorous even to the last. In the words of his obituarist, "No man ever conducted business in a more direct and manly manner than Mr. Blackwood. His opinion was on all occasions distinctly expressed; his questions were ever explicit; his answers conclusive. His sincerity might sometimes be considered as rough, but no human being ever accused him either of flattering or of shuffling; and those men of letters who were in frequent communication with him, soon conceived a respect and confidence for him, which, save in a very few instances, ripened into cordial regard and friendship. The masculine steadiness and imper- turbable resolution of his character were impressed on all his proceedings; and it will be allowed by those who watched him through his career, as the publisher of a literary and political miscellany, that these qualities were more than once very severely tested. He dealt by parties exactly as he did by individuals. Whether his principles were right or wrong, they were his, and he never compromised or complimented away one tittle of them. No changes, either of men or of measures, ever dimmed his eye or checked his courage." Mr. Blackwood was twice a magistrate of his native city, and in that capacity distinguished himself by an intrepid zeal in the reform of burgh management, singularly in contrast with his avowed sentiments respecting constitutional reform. BLAIR. Ilron, D.D., one of the most eminent divines and cultivators of polite literature of the eighteenth century, was born at Edinburgh, April 7, 171S. His father, John Blair, a merchant of Edinburgh, and who at one time occupied a re- spectable office in the magistracy, was grandson to Robert Blair, an eminent divine of the seventeenth century, whose life is commemorated in its proper place in this work. John Blair was thus cousin- german to theauthorof The Grave, whose life follows, in the present work, that of his distinguished anccs- VOL. 1. tor. John Blair, having impaired his fortune by engaging in the South Sea scheme, latterly held an office in the excise. He married Martha Ogston, and the first child of this marriage was the subject of the following memoir. Hugh Blair was early remarked by his father to possess the seeds of genius. Eor this reason, joined to a consideration, perhaps, of his delicate constitu- tion, he was educated for the church. He com- menced his academic career at the university of Edinburgh, October, 1730, and as his weakly health disabled him from enjoying the usual sports of boyhood, his application to study was very close. Among the numerous testimonies to his proficiency which were paid by his instructors, one deserves to be particularly mentioned, as, in his own opinion, it determined the bent of his genius towards polite- literature. An essay, Ile^i rov ko\ov, that is, upon the Beautiful, 1 written by him when a student of logic in the usual course of academical exercises, had the good fortune to attract the notice of Professor Stevenson, and, with circumstances honourable to the author, was appointed to be read in public at the conclusion of the session. This mark of distinc- tion, which occurred in his sixteenth year, made a deep impression on his mind; and the essay which merited it he ever after recollected with partial affection, and preserved to the day of his death, as the first earnest of his fame. At this time Dr. Blair commenced a method of study which contributed much to the accuracy and extent of his knowledge, and which he continued to practise occasionally even after his reputation was fully established. It consisted in making abstracts of the most important works which he read, and in digesting them according to the train of his own thoughts. History, in particular, he resolved to study in this manner; and in concert with some of his youthful associates, he constructed a very comprehensive scheme of chronological tables, for receiving into its proper place even' important fact which should occur. The scheme devised by this young student for his own private use was afterwards improved, filled up, and given to the public, by his learned relative Dr. John Blair, prebendary of West- minster, in his valuable work The Chronology and History of the World. In 1739, on taking the degree of Master of Arts, Blair printed his thesis, De Fundamentis et Obliga- Hone Legis Natnrcc, which contains a brief outline of these moral principles afterwards developed in his sermons, and displays the first dawnings of that vir- tuous sensibility by which he was at all periods of his public life so highly distinguished. On the 21st of October, I74i,hewas licensed as a preacher by the presbytery of Edinburgh, and soon began, in the usual manner, to exhibit himself occasionally in the pulpit. Heretofore the only popular style of preach- ing in Scotland was that of the evangelical party, which consisted chiefly in an impassioned address to the devotional feelings of the audience. The m der- ate party, who were of course least popular, had neither lost the practice of indulging in tedious theological disquisitions, nor acquired that of expa- tiating on the moral duties. The sermons ot this young licentiate, which presented sound ] radical doctrines in a style of language almost unknown in Scotland, struck the minds of the audience a- some- thing quite new. In the course ot a very lew 11 his fame had travelled far beyond th I 111 is ot his 1 A tcchnic.il Creek phrp.se, 1! ' : the perfection 1 :' I ear.ty in jec: f :.i-te. A ... "To kalnn" in th it na'ti >i ».i r : what tile : '..r:.-, understand by a correct ta^te. 10 u6 HUGH BLAIR. native city. A sermon which he preached in the West Church produced an extraordinary impression, and was spoken of in highly favourable terms to the Earl of Leven. His lordship accordingly presented the preacher to the parish church of Colessie in Fife, which happened to be then vacant. I le was ordained to this charge, September 23, 1742, hut was not long permitted to labour in so confined a scene. In a few months he was brought forward by his friends as candidate for the second charge of the church of Canongate, which may almost be considered a metro- politan situation. In the popular election which followed, he was successful against a very formidable competitor, Mr. Robert Walker, then a favourite preacher. He was inducted to this charge, July 14, 1743, when he had little more than completed his twenty-fifth year. On the occasion of the insurrec- tion of 1745, Blair preached a sermon in the warmest strain of loyalty to the existing government, and which he afterwards printed. During the eleven years which he spent in the Canongate, his sermons attracted large audiences from the adjoining city, and were alike admired for their eloquence and piety. They were composed with uncommon care; and, oc- cupying a middle place between the dry metaphysical discussion of one class of preachers, and the loose incoherent declamation of the other, they blended together in the happiest manner the light of argument with the warmth of exhortation, and exhibited capti- vating specimens of what had hitherto been rarely heard in Scotland, — the polished, well-compacted, and regular didactic oration. On the nth of October, 1754, he was called by the town-council of Edinburgh to one of the city charges, that of Lady V ester's church, and on the 15th of June, 175S, he was promoted by the same 1) 1 ly to the highest situation attainable by a Scottish clergyman — one of the charges of the High Church. This latter removal took place, according to the records of the town-council, "because they had it fully ascertained that his translation would be highly acceptable to persons of the most distinguished char- acter and eminent rank in this country who had seats in said church."' In truth, this place of worship might have been styled, in the absence of an episcopal svs- tem, the metropolitan church of Scotland. In it sat the Lords of Session and all the other great law and :ficers. besides the magistrates and council, and a lar;^e congregation of the most respectable inhabi- if the town. It might now therefore be said that the eloquence of Blair had at last reached a fit theatre for its display. In the year previous to this last translation he had Ixren h moured by the univer- sity of St. Andrews with the degree of I >.D., which was then very rare in Scotland. Hitherto Blair's attention seem, to have been chiefly 1 his profession. No production of •en given to the world by himself, except two sermons preached on particular occasions, translations of passages of Scripture for the psalmody of the church, and the article on Hutcheson's system of moral philosophy for the Edinhur^h AV- a periodical work begun in 1755 '">' Hume, Robertson, and others, and which only extended 1 > two numbers. Standing, a-; lie now did, at the head of his pr ifession, and released, by the labour of former years, from the drudgery of weekly preparation for the pulpit, he began to think seriously on a plan for teaching to others the art which had contril 11 ted n to his own fame. Some years before, I)r. Adam Smith had delivered in Edinburgh a series of :s on rhetoric and elegant literature, which had well received. In 1759 ''r. lilair commenced, with the approbation of the university, a course upon the principles of literary composition. The most zealous friends to this undertaking were David Hume and Lord Karnes, the latter of whom had devoted much attention to the subject. The approbation bestowed upon the lectures was so very high, and their fame became so generally diffused, that the town-council resolved to institute a rhetorical class in the university, under his direction; and, in 1762, this professorship was taken under the protection of the crown, with a salary of £70 pounds a year. Dr. lilair continued to deliver his lectures annually till 17S3, when he published them for the more extensive benefit of mankind. They are not by any means, nor were they ever pretended to be, a profound or original exposition of the laws of the belles lettrcs. They are acknowledged to be a compilation from many different sources, and only designed to form a simple and intelligible code for the instruction of youth in this department of knowledge. Regarded in this light, they are entitled, to very high praise, which has accordingly been liberally bestowed by the public. These lectures have been repeatedly printed, and still remain an indispensable monitor in the study of every British scholar. In 1763 Dr. Blair made his first appearance before the world as an author or critic. He had, in common with his friend John Home, taken a deep interest in the exertions of Macpherson for the recovery of the Highland traditionary poetry. Relying without sus- picion upon the faith of the collector, he prefixed to the Poems of Ossian a dissertation pointing out the beauties of those compositions. The labour must of course be now pronounced in a great measure useless; but nevertheless, it remains a conspicuous monument of the taste of Dr. Blair. It was not till 1777 that he could be prevailed upon to offer to the world any of those sermons with which he had so long delighted a private congrega- tion. We have his own authority for saying that it was his friend Lord Kames who was chiefly instru- mental in prompting him to take this step. For a long period hardly any sermons published either in England or Scotland had met with success. The public taste seemed to have contracted an aversion to this species of composition. We are informed by Boswell in his Life of Johnson, that, when lilair trans- mitted a volume to Mr. Strahan, the king's printer, that gentleman, after letting it lie beside him for some time, returned a letter discouraging the publication. It is probable that this opinion, which seems to have been given only on general grounds, might have caused Dr. Blair to abandon his intention; but for- tunately, Mr. Strahan had sent one of the sermons to Dr. Johnson for his opinion, and after his unfavour- able letter to Dr. Blair had been sent off, he received from Johnson on Christmas eve, 1776, a note, of which the following is a paragraph: "I have read over Dr. Blair's first sermon with more than appro- bation; to say it is good is to say too little." Mr. Strahan had very soon after this time a conversation with Dr. Johnson concerning the sermons; and then he very candidly wrote again to Dr. Blair, inclosing Johnson's note, and agreeing to purchase the volume, with Mr. Cadell, for /ioo. The sale Mas so rapid and extensive, and the approbation of the public so high, that, to their honour be it recorded, the proprietors made Dr. Blair a present, first of one sum, and afterwards of another of £yi, thus volun- tarily doubling the stipulated juice. Perhaps in no country, not even in his own, were these compositions 1 highly appreciated as in England. There they '•'• ! " received with the keenest relish, not only on pc-count of their abstract excellence, but partly from a kind of surprise as to the quarter from which they HUGH BLAIR. '47 came — no devotional work produced by Scotland having ever before been found entitled to much atten- tion in the southern section of the island. The volume speedily fell under the attention of George III. and his virtuous consort, and was by them very highly admired. His majesty, with that wise and sincere attention to the interests of religion and virtue which constituted the best part of his reign, was graciously pleased to judge the author worthy of a public reward. IJy a royal mandate to the ex- chequer in Scotland, dated July 25, 17S0, a pension of ^200 a year was bestowed on Dr. Blair. It is said that the sermons were first read in the royal closet by the Earl of Mansfield; and there is little reason to doubt that they were indebted in some degree to the elocution of the "elegant Murray" for the impression which they produced upon the royal family. During the subsequent part of his life Dr. Blair published three other volumes of sermons; and it might safely be said that each successive publication only tended to deepen the impression produced by the first. These compositions, which were translated into almost every language in Europe, formed only a small part of the discourses which he prepared for the pulpit. The number of those which remained was creditable to his professional character, and ex- hibited a convincing proof that his fame as a public teacher had been honourably purchased by the most unwearied application to the private and unseen la- bours of his office. Out of his remaining manuscripts he had prepared a fifth volume, which appeared after his death; the rest, according to an explicit injunction in his will, were committed to the flames. The last sermon which he composed was one in the fifth volume, "on a life of dissipation and pleasure." Though written at the age of eighty-two, it is a digni- fied and eloquent discourse, and may be regarded as his solemn parting admonition to a class of men whose conduct is highly important to the community, and whose reformation and virtue he had long la- boured most zealously to promote. The Sermons of Blair are not now, perhaps, to be criticized with that blind admiration which ranked them, in their own time, amidst the classics of Eng- lish literature. The present age is now generally sensible that they are deficient in that religious unction which constitutes the better part of such compositions, and are but little calculated to stir and rouse the heart to a sense of spiritual duty. Everything, how- ever, must be considered more or less relatively. 1 Hair's mind was formed at a time when the fervours of evangelical divinity were left by the informed classes generally to the lowly anil uninstructed hearts, which, after all, are the great citadels of re- ligion in every country. A certain order of the clergy, towards the end of the eighteenth century, sjemed to find it necessary, in order to prevent an absolute revolt of the higher orders from the stan- dards of religion, to accommodate themselves to the prevailing ta-te, and only administer moral discourses, with an insinuated modicum of real piety, where their proper purpose unquestionably is to maintain spiritual grace in the breads of the people by all the means which the gospel has placed within their reach. Thus, as Blair preached to the most refined congre- gation in Scotland, he could hardly have failed to fall into thi.-. prevalent fashion; and he perhaps con- sidered, with perfect sincerity, that he was justified by the precept of St. Paul, which commands the ministers of religion to be "all tilings to all men."' Religious feeling is mollified by time and place; and I do not apprehend it to be impossible that the mind of Hugh Blair, existing at the time of his celebrated ancestor, might have exerted itself in maintaining the covenant, and inspiring the populace with the energy necessary for that purpose; while the intellect and heart of his predecessor, if interchanged, might have spent their zeal in behalf of Henry Viscount Melville, and in gently pleasing the minds of a set of modern indifferents with one grain of the gospel dissolved into a large cooling-draught of moral disquisition. The remaining part of the life of Blair hardly affords a single additional incident. He had been married in 1748 to his cousin, Katherine Bannatyne, daughter of the Rev. James Bannatyne, one of the ministers of Edinburgh. By this lady he had a son wdio died in infancy, and a daughter, who survived to her twenty-first year — the pride of her parent-, and adorned with all the accomplishments which belong to her age and sex. Mrs. Blair — herself a woman of great good sense and spirit — was also taken from him a few years before his death, after she had shared with the tenderest affection in all his fortunes, and contributed nearly half a century to his happiness and comfort. The latter part of his life was spent in the enjoyment of a degree of public respect which falls to the lot of few men, but which was eminently deserved by him, both on account of his high liter- ary accomplishments, and the singular purity and benevolence of his private character. He latterly was enabled, by the various sources of income which he enjoyed, to set up a carriage — a luxury enjoyed, perhaps, by no predecessor in the Scottish church, and by very few of his successors. He also main- tained an elegant hospitality, both at his town and country residences, which were much resorted to by strangers of distinction who happened to visit Edinburgh. It may be curious to know in what manner those discourses were delivered from the pulpit, which have so highly charmed the world in print. As might be easily supposed, where there was so much merit of one kind, there could scarcely, without a miracle, be- any high degree of another and entirely different kind. In truth, the elocution of Dr. Blair, though accompanied by a dignified and impressive manner, was not fit to be compared with his powers of com- position. His voice was deformed by a peculiarity which I know not how to express by any other term than one almost too homely lor modern composition — a burr. He also wanted all that charm which is to be derived from gesticulation, and, upon the whole, might be characterized as a somewhat formal preacher. In what is called church politics Dr. Blair was a strenuous moderate, but never took an active share in the proceedings of the church. A constitui delicacy of organization unfitted him for any scene where men have to come into strong and personal collision. In temporal politics he was ad admirer of the existing constitution, and a ? supporter of the Tory government which flouris during the greater part of the reign of George 111. With Viscount Melville, to whose fatl dedicated his thesis in early youth, lie maim a constant interchange of civilities. At the br out of the French revolution he exerted the most energetic manner to si affection and irreligion which .v. one seemed to threaten all existing in>tituti : -. He declare'! in the pulpit that 11 could be a good Chri-ti m; an v . - -'■> :;giy akin to the ancient d> >cl and non-resistance, that it cai ex i-ed by the particular eireu of Blair was 1 . exact :.v. i el.. I4S JAMES BLAIR JOHN* BLAIR. display anything of the majestic. Possessing more taste than genius, he never astonished in conversa- tion by any original remark. In company he made a far less striking appearance than the half-instructed peasant Burns, who, at his first visit to Edinburgh, was warmly patronized by Dr. Blair. In some points of view, his mind bore an unprepossessing aspect. He was content to read, and weak enough to admire, the wretched fictitious compositions which appeared in that age under the denomination of novels. He would talk profusely of the furniture of the room in which he was sitting, criticizing every object with a sincere and well-weighed attention, which would not have been ill-bestowed upon the most solemn subjects. In his dress, and in almost all points of mere externe and ceremonial form, he was minutely fastidious. He was also so fond of the approbation of his fellow -creatures in modera- tion a most useful feature of character —that even very marked flattery was received by him not only without displeasure, but with an obviously keen relish, that said little either for his discrimination or his modesty. Vet, with these less worthy points of character, Blair had no mean moral feelings. He was incapable of envy, spoke liberally and candidly of men whose pursuits and opinions differed from his own, and was seldom betrayed into a severe remark upon any subject unconnected with actual vice. Though his bodily constitution was by no means robust, yet by habitual temperance and by attention to health, his life was happily prolonged beyond the usual period. For some years lie had felt himself unequal to the fatigue of instructing his very large congregation from the pulpit; and under the im- pression which this feeling produced, he has been heard to say with a sigh, that ''lie was left almost the last of his contemporaries.'' Such, nevertheless, was the vigour of his mind, that in 1799, when past the eightieth year of his age, he composed and preached one of the most effective sermons lie ever delivered, on behalf of the fund for the benefit of the sons of the clergy. He was also employed during the summer of iSooin preparing his last volume for the press; and for this purpose lie copied the whole with his own hand. He began the winter, pleased with himself on account of this exertion; and his friends were flattered with the hope that he might live to enjoy the accession of emolument and fame which he expected it would bring, but the seeds of a mortal disease were lurking within him. On the 24th of December he felt slight pain in his bowels, with which neither he nor his friends were alarmed. On the afternoon of the 26th, this pain increased, and violent symptoms began to appear, the causes of which were then unfortunately unknown both to himself and his physician. He had for a few years laboured under an inguinal hernia. This maladv, which he was imprudently disponed to conceal, lie considered as trifling; and he understood that, bv taking the ordinary precautions, nothing was to be apprehended from it. It settled, however, into a stoppage of tin- bowels, and ere the physii ian was made aware of his condition, an inflammation had taken place, and he consequcntl) the morning of the 27th. thus expiring almost at the same time with that century of the < hristian epoch of which he had been on.- ,,\ the most distinguished ornaments. He died in the eighty-third year of his age, and the fifty-ninth of his profession a- a minister of the gospel. BLAIR. J wtr.s, nn eminent divine, was reared for the Episcopal church of Scotland, at the time when it was struggling with the popular dislike in tin of Charles II. Discouraged by the equivocal situa- tion of that establishment in Scotland, he voluntarily abandoned his preferments and removed to England, where he was patronized by Compton, Bishop of London. By this prelate he was prevailed upon to go as a missionary to Virginia, in 1685, and, having given the greatest satisfaction by his zeal in the pro- pagation of religion, he was, in 1689, preferred to the office of commissary to the bishop, which was the highest ecclesiastical dignity in that province. His exertions were by no means confined to his ordinary duties. Observing the disadvantage under which the province laboured through the want of seminaries for the education of a native clergy, he set about, and finally was able to accomplish, the honourable work of founding the college of Williamsburgh, which was afterwards, by his personal intervention, endowed by- King William III., with a patent, under the title of the William and Mary College. He died in 1743, after having been president of this institution for about fifty, and a minister of the gospel for above sixty, years. He had also enjoyed the office of president of the council of Virginia. In the year before his death he had published at London his great work, entitled Our Saviour's Divine Sermon on the Mount explained, and the Practice of it Recom- mended, in divers Sermons and Discourses, 4 vols. 8vo., which is styled by Dr. Waterland, the editor of a second edition, "a valuable treasure of sound di- vinity and practical Christianity." BLAIR, John, a churchman of noble family, who, being compelled by the tyranny of Edward I. in Scotland to join the bands of Sir William Wallace, became chaplain to that hero, and did not scruple abo to take a share in his battles. He wrote an account of the deeds of Wallace, which is now lost, but is supposed to have furnished materials to Blind Harry. Another work of Blair's was styled, De Liberata Tyrannide Scotia. BLAIR, John, LL.D., an eminent chronologist, was, as already mentioned in the memoir of Dr. Hugh Blair, a relative of that distinguished per- sonage. He received a clerical education at Edin- burgh, and afterwards went in search of employment to London, along with Mr. Andrew Henderson, author of a Id/story of the Rebellion of 1745, and many other works, and who, for some years, kept a bookseller's shop in Westminster Hall. As Hen- derson describes himself as residing in Edinburgh at the time of the battle of Prestonpans, it is probable that Blair's removal to London took place after that event. Henderson's first employment was that of an usher at a school in Hedge Lane, in which he was succeeded by Blair. The attention of the latter had probably been directed to chronology by the example of Dr. Hugh Blair, who, as already men- tioned, commenced a series of tables of events for his own private use, which ultimately formed the foundation of the work given to the world, in 1754, under the title of The Chronology and ///story of the World, from the Creation to the year of Christ, 1753; "illustrated in fifty-six tables, of which four arc in- troductory, and contain the centuries prior to the first Olympiad, and each of the remaining fifty-two contain, in one expanded view, fifty years, or half a century. By the Rev. John Blair, LL.D." This large and valuable work was published by subscrip- tion, and was dedicated to Lord-chancellor Hard- wicke. In [anuarv, 1755, Dr. John Blair was elected L.L.S.. and in 1761, E.A.S. In 1756 he lied a new edition of his Chronology. In September, 1757, he was appointed chaplain to the PATRICK BLAIR ROBERT BLAIR. 149 Dowager Princess of Wales, and mathematical tutor to the Duke of York (brother to George III.); and on Dr. Townshend's promotion to the deanery of Norwich, the services of Dr. Blair were rewarded, March, 1 761, with a prebendal stall in Westminster Abbey. Such a series of rapidly accumulating hon- ours has fallen to the lot of very few Scottish adven- turers. Hut this was not destined to be the end of his good fortune. He had only been prebend of Westminster six days, when the death of the vicar of Hinckley, in Leicestershire, enabled the dean and chapter to present him to that valuable living, to which was soon after added, the rectory of Burton- coggles in Lincolnshire. In 1763-4 he made the tour of the Continent, in company with his royal pupil. A new and enlarged edition of his Chronology ap- peared in 1768, and in 177 1 he was presented, by the Dean and Chapter of Westminster, to the vicar- age of St. Bride's in the city of London, which made it necessary for him to resign Hinckley. In 1776 he resigned St. Bride's, in order to succeed to the rec- tory of St. John the Evangelist in Westminster; and in June that year he obtained a dispensation to hold this benefice along with that of Ilorton, near Cole- brooke, in Buckinghamshire. In the memorable sea-fight of the 12th of August, 1782, his brother, Captain Blair, in the command of the Anson, was one of three distinguished officers who fell, and to whom the country afterwards voted a monument. This event gave such a shock to the venerable doctor, who at that time suffered under influenza, that he died at his house in Dean's Yard, Westminster, on the 24th of June following. A work entitled, Lec- tures on the Canons of the Old Testament, appeared after his death; but his best monument unquestion- ably will be his Chronology, the value of which has been so amply acknowledged by the world. BLAIR, Patrick, M.D., an eminent botanist in the earlier period of the existence of that science in Britain, was first known as a practitioner of surgery and physic at Dundee, where he brought himself into prominent notice as an anatomist, 1706, by the dissection of an elephant which died near that place. He was a non-juror or Scottish Episcopalian, and so far attached to the exiled family of Stuart, as to be imprisoned during the insurrection of 1 7 1 5 as a sus- pected person. He afterwards removed to London, where he recommended himself to the attention of the Royal Society by some discourses on the sexes of flowers. His stay in London was short, and after leaving it he settled at Boston in Lincolnshire, where Dr. Pulteney conjectures that he practised physic during the remainder of his life. The same writer, in his Historical and Biographical Sketches of English Botany, supposes that his death happened soon after the publication of the seventh Decad of his Pharmacobotanologia, in 1728. Dr. Blair's first publication was entitled, Miscel- laneous Observations in Physic, Anatomy, Surgery, and Bolanieks, Svo, 17 iS. In the botanical part of this work he insinuates some doubts relating to the method suggested by Petion and others, of de- ducing the qualities of vegetables from the agreement in natural characters; anil instances the Cynoglossum, as ten-ling to prove the fallacy of this rule. He relates several instances of the poisonous effects of plants, and thinks the Eehiuin marinum ( Pulmonaria mantima of Linnaeus) should be ranked in the genus Cynoglossum, since it possesses a narcotic power. He describes and figures several of the more rare British plants, which he had discovered in a tour made into Wales; tor instance, the Kumex digynus, Lobelia dortmanna, Alisma ranunculoides, I'yrola rotundifolia, Alchemilla alpina, &c. But the work by which he rendered the greatest service to botany originated with his Discourse on the Sexes of Plants, read before the Royal Society, and afterwards greatly amplified and published, at the request of several members of that body, under the title of Botanical Essays, 8vo, 1720. This treatise is divided into two parts, containing five essays; the three first respecting what is proper to plants, and the two last what is proper to plants and animals. This is acknow- ledged by an eminent judge to have been the first complete work, at least in the English language, on that important department of botanical science, the sexes of the plants. The author shows himself well acquainted, in general, with all the opinions and arguments which had been already circulated on the same subject. The value of the work must not be estimated by the measure of modern knowledge, though even at this day it may be read by those not critically versed in the subject, with instruction and improvement. A view of the several methods then invented cannot be seen so connectedly in any other English author. Dr. Blair strengthened the argu- ments in proof of the sexes of plants by sound rea- soning and some new experiments. His reasons against Morland's opinion of the entrance of the farina into the vasculum seminale, and his refuta- tion of the Lewenhcekian theory, have met with the sanction of the greatest names in modern botany. Dr. Blair's last distinct publication, which he did not live to complete, was Pharmacobotanologia; or, An Alphabetical and Classical Dissertation on all the British Indigenous and Garden Plants of the New Dispensatory, 4to, 1 723-28. In this work, which was carried no further than the letter II, the genera and species are described, the sensible qualities and medicinal powers are subjoined, with the pharma- ceutical uses, and the author also notices several of the more rare English plants discovered by himself in the environs of Boston. Dr. Blair's fugitive writings consist of various papers in the Philosophical Transactions, of which one of the most remarkable is an account of the anatomy and osteology of the elephant, drawn up from his observations in dis- secting the animal above alluded to at Dundee. BLAIR. ROBERT, an eminent divine of the seven- teenth century, was the sixth and youngest son of John Blair of Windyedge in Ayrshire, and Beatrix Muir, a lady of the honourable house of Rowallan. He was born at Irvine in 1593, and received his education at the college of Glasgow. After acting for some time as assistant to a teacher in that city, he was appointed, in the twenty-second year of his age, to be a regent or professor in the college. In 1616 he was licensed as a minister of the gospel. Happening soon after to preach before the celebrated Robert Bruce, and being anxious to have the judg- ment of so great and good a man upon his discourse, he took the liberty of directly asking him how he liked the sermon: Bruce said, "I found your sermon very polished and well digested; but there is one thing I did miss in it — to wit, the Spirit of God; I found not that." This criticism made a deep and useful impression upon the young preacher. 1 he prospects of Mr. Blair at Glasgow were cl< u led. in 1622, by the accession of Cameron to the otl.ee el principal in the college. This divine, having been imbued in France with the tenets ol Arminu;-. be- came a zealous promoter of the views ..| th< for the introduction of K] " to H Blair speedily became obn \ and found it necessary to resign his charge. lor some vc.iis he officiated to a I'resbvterian congre- ROBERT BLAIR. gation at Bangour in Ireland, but in 1632 was suspended, along with the equally famous preacher Livingstone, by the Bishop of Down. He then went over to court, to implore the interference of the king (Charles I.), who at length gave a favourable answer to his petition, writing with his own hand upon the margin, "Indulge these men, for they are Scotsmen;" an expression certainly honourable to the heart of the unfortunate monarch. Blair was one of those divines who were reputed in Scotland to have direct communications with heaven, and a p >wer of prophetic vision. While waiting anxiously for the return of his petition, he asked, and, as it is recorded by his biographer, received, a sign from heaven, assuring him that his wishes would be realized. He also "had, from Ezek. xxiv. 16, a strange discovery of his wife's death, and the very bed whereon she was lying, and the particular ac- quaintances attending her; and although she was in good health at his return home, yet in a little all this came to pass." 1 He had not been long re- established at Bangour, when the bishop found further fault with him, and again sentenced him to be expelled. He now joined in a scheme set on foot by various Presbyterian clergymen in similar circumstances for fitting out a ship, and emigrating to New England, But being driven back by a storm, they conceived that the Almighty will was opposed to their resolution, and accordingly abandoned the scheme. Blair returned to Scotland to mingle in the tumultuous scenes of the covenant. He preached for some time at Ayr, and was afterwards settled by the General Assembly at St. Andrews. In 1640 he accompanied the Scottish army into England, and assisted at the negotiations fir the peace of Ripon. After the first burst of the Irish rebellion of 1641, when the Presbyterians of Ireland supplicated the General Assembly for a supply of ministers, Blair was one ol those who went over. He soon returned, how- ever, to his charge at St. Andrews. In autumn, 1645, when the Scottish estates and General As- sembly were obliged by the prevalence of the plague at Edinburgh to sit in St. Andrews, Blair took a conspicuous part in the prosecution of Sir Robert Spottiswoode and other adherents of Montrose, who had l>een taken prisoners at Philiphaugh. Sir Robert was sentenced to be beheaded as a traitor. Blair was anxious that an exertion should be made to turn Sir Robert from the errors of his faith, so that he might at least die in the profession of the true religion. He therefore attended him in jail, and even at the scaffold, trying all his eloquence to work a conversion. Spottiswoode appears to have looked upon these efforts in a different spirit from that in which they were made, and was provoked, upon the very scaffold, to reject the prayers of his monitor in language far from courtly. Mr. Blair was equally unsuccessful with Captain Guthrie, son of the ex-bishop of Moray, who was soon after executed at the same place. Blair was one of the Scottish divine, appointed in 1645 to reason the king out of his Episcopal pre- possessions a' Newcastle. The celebrated (.'ant, one of his coadjutors in this task, having one dav ac- cused his Majesty of favouring Popery, Mr. Blair interrupted him, and hinted that this was not a proper time or place for making such a charge. The unfortunate monarch, who certainly had a claim to this amount upon the gratitude of Blair, appears to have felt the kindness of the remark. At the death of Henderson his Majestv appointed Blair to be his successor as chaplain for Scotland. W C lit! 1 In this capacity he had much intercourse with the king, who one day asked him if it was warrantable in prayer to determine a controversy. Blair, taking the hint, said, that in the prayer just finished he did not think that he had determined any controversy. "Yes," said the king, "you determined the Pope to be Antichrist, which is a controversy among divines." Blair said he was sorry that this should be disputed by his Majesty, for certainly it was not so by his father. This remark showed great acuteness in the royal chaplain, for Charles, being a constant de- fender of the opinions of his father, whose authority he esteemed above that of all professional theolo- gians, was totally unable to make any reply. The constancy of the king in his adherence to the chinch of Laud rendered, as is well known, all the advices of the Scottish divines unavailing. After spending some months with his Majesty in his captivity at Newcastle, Mr. Blair returned to Scotland. In 1648, when Cromwell came to Edinburgh for the first time, the commission of the church sent three divines, including Mr. Blair, to treat with him for a uniformity of religion in England. The sectar- ian general, who looked upon the Scottish Presby- tery as no better than English Episcopacy, but yet was anxious to conciliate the northern divines, en- tertained this legation with smooth speeches, and made many solemn appeals to God, as to the sin- cerity of his intentions. Blair, however, had per- ceived the real character of Cromwell, and thought it necessary to ask explicit answers to the three following categories: — 1. What was his opinion of monarchical government? To this he answered, that he was for monarchical government ; which exactly suited the views of the Scottish Presbyter- ians. 2. What was his opinion anent toleration? He answered confidently, that he was altogether against toleration; which pleased, if possible, still better. 3. What was his opinion concerning the government of the church? "Oh, now," said Crom- well, "Mr. Blair, you article me too severely; you must pardon me that I give you not a present answer to this." When the deputation left him Mr. David Dickson said to Mr. Blair, "I am glad to hear this man speak no worse;" to which the latter replied, "If you knew him as well as I, you would not believe a word he says, for he is an egregious dissembler." Blair continued to be a zealous and useful minister during the usurpation of Cromwell, but after the restoration fell speedily under the censure of his metropolitan, Archbishop Sharpe. For some years he had no regular place of worship, but preached and ministered when he met with a favourable opportunity. During his later years, being pro- hibited from coming within twenty miles of St. Andrews, he lived at Meikle Couston, in the parish of Aberdour, where he died, August 27, 1666, in the 73d year of his age. He was buried in the church- yard of Aberdour, where there is a small tablet to his memory. Robert Blair was the author of a Commentary on the /)'<'()/■ of Proverbs, and also of some political pieces, none of which have come down to modern times. His abilities were singularly revived in more than one branch of his numerous progeny, particularly in his grandson, the author of The Grave, and his two great-grandsons, Dr. I high Blair, and Robert Blair, president of the Court of Session. BLAIR. Roijkrt, author of The Grave, a Poem, was the eldest son of the Rev. David Blair, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, and chaplain to the king, who, in his turn, was son to the subject of the 1 receding article. The mother of the author of SIR GILBERT BLANK. 151 The Grave was a Miss Nisbet, daughter of Mr. Nisbet of Carfin. He was born in the year 1699, and after the usual preparatory studies, was ordained, in 1 73 1, minister of Athelstaneford, in East Lothian, where he spent the remainder of his life. Possessing a small fortune in addition to his stipend as a parish clergyman, he lived, we are told, rather in the style of a country gentleman than of a minister, keeping company with the neighbouring gentry, among whom Sir Francis Kinloch of Gilmerton, patron of the parish, was one of his warmest friends. Blair, we are further informed, was at once a man of learning and of elegant taste and manners. He was a bo- tanist and florist, which he showed in the cultivation of his garden; and was also conversant in optical and microscopical knowledge, on which subjects he carried on a correspondence with some learned men in England. He was a man of sincere piety, and very assiduous in discharging the duties of his clerical functions. Asa preacher, he was serious and warm, and discovered the imagination of a poet. He married Miss Isabella Law, daughter of Mr. Law of Livingston, who had been professor of moral philo- sophy in the university of Edinburgh; by this lady, who survived him, he had five sons and one daughter. His fourth son, who bore his own name, arose, through various gradations of honour at the Scottish bar, to be president of the Court of Session. Blair had turned his thoughts, at an early period of life, to poetry. While still very young, he wrote some verses to the memory of his future father-in-law, Mr. Law, who was also his blood-relation. We have his own testimony for saying, that his Grate was chiefly composed in that period of his life which preceded his ordination as a parochial clergyman. An original manuscript of the poem, in the pos- session of his son the lord-president, was dated 1741-2; and it appears, from a letter written by the author to Dr. Doddridge, in February' that year, that he had just been endeavouring, through the influence of his correspondent, Dr. Isaac Watts, to induce the London booksellers to publish it. It was rejected by two of these patrons of literature, to whom it had been recommended by Dr. Watts; but was finally printed at London, in 1743, "for Mr. Cooper." The author appears to have been seriously anxious that it should become a popular work, for he thus writes to Dr. Doddridge: — "In order to make it more generally liked, I was obliged some- times to go cross to my own inclination, well know- ing that, whatever poem is written upon a serious argument must, upon that very account, be under serious disadvantages ; and therefore proper arts must be used to make such a piece go down with a licentious age, which cares for none of those things." This is not very clearly intelligible, but, perhaps, alludes to the plain, strong, rational, and often col- loquially familiar language of the poem, which the plurality of modern critics will allow to be its best feature. The Grave is now to be esteemed as one of the standard classics of English poetical literature, in which rank it will probably remain longer than many works ot greater contemporary, or even present, fame. BLANE, Sir C.n.nF.RT, M.D., of Blanefield, Ayrshire, and Culverlands, Berkshire, Bart. This eminent physician was the fourth son of Gilbert Blane of Blanefield, in the county of Ayr, and was born at that place A.n. 1749. Being destined by his parents for the church, he was sent at an early age to the university of Kdinburgh; but inconsequence of certain religious scruples, he abandoned the pur- pose of studying for the ministry, and turned his thoughts to the medical profession, for which he soon found that he had a peculiar vocation. His re- markable diligence and proficiency in the different departments of medical science secured the notice not only of his class-fellows, but the professors, so that on graduating as a physician, he was recom- mended by Dr. Cullen to Dr. William Hunter, at that time of high celebrity in London, both as phy- sician and teacher of anatomy, who soon learned to estimate the talents and worth of his young protege. He therefore introduced Dr. B.lane to the notice of Lord Holdernesse, whose private physician he soon became, and he was afterwards appointed to the same office to Lord Rodney. This transition from the service of a peaceful statesman to that of an active- naval hero, introduced the Doctor to a wider sphere of medical practice, but to one also of greater danger and trial. When Lord Rodney, in 17S0, assumed the command of the West India station, Blanc- accompanied him, and was present in six naval engagements, in the very first of which he found himself compelled to forego his professional privilege of being a non-combatant. This was in consequence of every officer on deck being killed, wounded, or otherwise employed, so that none remained but him- self who could be intrusted with the admiral's orders to the officers serving at the guns. This hazardous employment he cheerfully undertook and ably dis- charged, receiving a slight wound in its performance. His conduct on this occasion was so gratifying to his lordship, that, at his recommendation, he was at once raised to the important office of physician to the fleet, without undergoing the subordinate- grades. On this station, where disease is so pre- valent among our seamen, he was unremitting in his attention to the health of the ships' crews, and the success of his efforts was felt by the whole fleet. During this period, also, he found a short interval for gratifying those literary tastes which he had cultivated at college; and his account of the impor- tant naval engagement of the 12th of April, 17S2, which he sent to Lord Stair, was so distinct and so animated, that it soon found its way into print. This victory, indeed, which Lord Rodney obtained over Count de Grasse off Guadeloupe, was of itself well worthy of admiration; for it not only saved Jamaica, ruined the allied fleet of our enemies in that quarter, and restored the supremacy of the British flag, but was the first great trial of the ex- periment of breaking the line which Nelson after- wards so successfully adopted. Soon after his return from the West India station, which lie left in 17S3, Dr. Blane published in London a work entitled Observations en the Diseases of Seamen, in one volume Svo. It contained the results of his own careful experience, and the conclusions lie had drawn from the medical returns of the surgeons of the fleet, and abounded with so much sound and practical wisdom upon that important subject, that it soon became a standard work, and was repeate ily reprinted with additional improvements. On his return, it was found that he was precluded from half-pay, on account of his appointment having been made without his having passed the intermc iiate steps of service. But a still more honourable re- quital awaited his labours; for, in consequence ot a joint application from all the officers on the ^ est India station to the Admiralty, Dr. Blane v..-.- re- warded by a pension from the crown, winch was afterwards doubled at the suggestion of the Ion:.-. of the Admiralty. Even this, too, was :. t the full amount of benefit which he owe! to the esti his fellow-officers; for one f these, a midshipman of Rodney's fleet- but who was no le-s a pcr-on than the Duke of Ciarer.ce, afterwar is William IV. SIR GILBERT BLAXE. — obtained for him the appointment of physician extraordinary to the Prince of Wales, in 1 7S5 ; he was also, chiefly through the popular influence of Lord Rodney, elected physician to St. Thomas's Hospital. About the same time, also, he was appointed one of the commissioners of sick and wounded sailors. As he was now on shore, and in prosperous circumstances, he sought a permanent and comfortable home by marriage, and on the nth July, 1786, was united to Elizabeth, only daughter of Abraham Gardner, merchant. By this lady, who shared with him the honours and comforts of a long life, and whose death preceded his own by only two years, he was the father of six sons and three daughters. Having about the time of his marriage been elected a fellow of the Royal Society, he was appointed, in 17SS, to deliver the Croonian lecture of that year, a duty which he performed with signal ability, having chosen Muscular Motion for his subject, and illustrated it with great extent of information, as well as much profound and original thinking. The essay was published in 1791, and afterwards republished in his Select Dissertations, in 1S22 and 1S34. In 1790.au essay of his on the "Xardus or Spikenard of the Ancients," was also published in the Soth volume of the Transactions of the Royal Society. More important, however, than all these appoint- ments that were successively conferred upon Dr. Blanc, was that of being placed at the head of the navy medical board, which occurred in I "95. It was here that he had full scope and exercise for his talents, philanthropy, and nautical experience as a physician. In proportion as the empire of Britain was extended, the number and length of voyages were increased, so that the draught upon our island population for the royal and merchant service was every year becoming greater. But a still more serious danger than any thru arose from storm or battle, was that which originated in scurvy, the ocean-pestilence, from which there had hitherto been no protection, except at the expense of a long delay by recruiting on a friendly shore. The causes of this disease were the cold and unhealthy atmos- phere <>n ship-board, owing to defective ship-build- ing, the sand used for ballast, the unwholesome miasma of the bilge-water, and the imperfect means of washing and ventilating the vessel. But these were trivial compared with the diet of our sailors, which, on long voyages, consisted merely of .salted meat and biscuit. The defective nourishment and ■ivc stimulus of this kind of food made the . -till prevalent in our fleets, notwithstanding the improvements by which the other causes were counteracted; and the point and limit seemed to have been already attained, beyond which the Iiritish flag could not be carried. "The cure seems im- ile by any remedy, or by any management that can be employed," says the historian of Anson's despairingly, when he describes the condition of the coinmo lore's crew on his arrival at Juan Fernandez, where, after a loss of four-fifths c,| his sailors, he had, out of the 200 survivors, onlv eight who were capable of duty. It was to root out, or at least to diminish this disease, and b;ing il under •t management, thai [>r. Blane now addressed himself; and in this humane and patriotic purpose I rl Spencer, at that time first lord of the Admiralty. The doctor well knew that the only antiscorbutii s available for the preven- tion or cure of sea-scurvy are those vegetables in which acid predominate-.; and that of all fruits, the genus Citrus is most effective. Here, then, was the remedy; and since the fruit could not be carried fresh during a long voyage, the preserved juice might be used as a substitute. Such was the cure he suggested, and, through the influence of Earl Spencer, it was immediately introduced throughout the whole British navy. Several gallons of lemon juice, having a tenth part of spirit of wine, to pre- serve it, was supplied to each ship; and in a fort- night after leaving the port the use of it began, each sailor being allowed one ounce of it, with an ounce and a half of sugar, to mix with his grog or wine. The immense advantages of an innovation apparently so very simple — and therefore so very difficult to be discovered — were quickly apparent. In the statistics of our navy we find, that during nine years of con- secutive warfare, from 1778 to 1795, the number of men voted for the service by parliament was 745,000, of whom 189,730 were sent sick on shore, or to the hospitals. But during the nine following years of consecutive warfare, that is to say, from 1796, when the use of lime-juice was introduced into the navy, till 1806, during which period 1,053,076 men were voted for sea-service, of these the sick amounted to no more than 123,949. The amount of disease had thus diminished by one-half, because scurvy had almost wholly disappeared; and our fleets, instead of being utterly drained of their seamen, as would have been the case under the former ratio, were enabled for twenty years to go onward in a career of victory unchecked, and repair their losses as fast as they occurred. And the merchant service, too, from which these victories derive their value, has been equally benefited by the remedy of Dr. Blane, so that its vessels may traverse every sea in safety, and return after the longest voyages with a healthy and happy crew; while a spectacle such as had been seen more than once — like that of the Oriflamma, for instance, where the whole crew had died, and the deck was piled with the corpses, while not a hand was left to guide her course as she slowly drifted before the wind — would be reckoned as impossible as a realization of the tale of the Ancient Mariner. The famine which prevailed over the whole of Britain during the years 1 799 and 1800 was too severe to be easily forgotten by the present genera- tion; and, with the view of directing attention to its alleviation, as well as preventing its recurrence, Dr. Blane published in 1800 an Inquiry into the Causes and Remedies of the Late and Present Scarcity and High Price of Provisions; loith Observations 011 the Distresses of Agriculture and Commerce lohich have prevailed for the last Three Years. As he had now- attained a high medical reputation, and enjoyed an extensive private practice in addition to his public duties, he resigned the office of physician to St. Thomas's Hospital, after having held it twenty years. The fruits of his observations during that period he- gave to the world in a dissertation "On the Com- parative Prevalence and Mortality of different Diseases in London," which was first published in the Trans- actions of the Medno-Chiriirgical Society, and after- wards embodied in his Select Dissertations. The unhappy Walcheren expedition was one of the last public services on which Blane was employed. That island of fogs, swamps, and pestilential vapours had loomed so alluringly in the eyes of our states- men, that nothing short of its possession would satisfy them, and one of the largest armaments that had ever left a British port, conveying 40,000 soldiers, was sent to achieve its conquest. It was soon won and occupied; but our troops found, on entering into possession, that a deadlier enemy than any that Prance could furnish was arrayed against lie in to dispute their footing; so that, independently o! the fearful amount of mortality, 10,000 brave SIR GILBERT BLANE soldiers were soon upon the sick list. As for the disease, too, which produced such havoc, although it was sometimes called fever, and sometimes ague, neither its nature, causes, nor cure, could be satis- factorily ascertained. All this, however, it was ne- cessary to detect, if our hold was to be continued upon VValcheren; and the chief medical officers of the army were ordered to repair in person to the island, and there hold an inquest upon the malady, with a view to its removal. But no medical Curtius could be found to throw himself into such a gulf: the surgeon-general of the army declared that the case was not surgical, and ought therefore to be superintended by the physician-general; while the latter as stoutly argued, that the duty indisputably belonged not to him, but to the inspector-general of army hospitals. In this way an orifice reckoned tantamount to a death-warrant, from the danger of infection which it involved, was bandied to and fro, while the unfortunate patients were daily sickening and dying by the hundred. One man, however, fully competent for the task, and whose services on such an occasion were completely gratuitous, departed upon the perilous mission. This was Dr. Blane, who, as belonging to a different department, had no such obligations as his army brethren, but who, nevertheless, undertook the obnoxious duty in 1809, while the disease was most prevalent. It is per- haps unneccessary to add, that the British soon after abandoned their possession of VValcheren. Another public service on which Dr. Blane was employed in the following year (1810), was to visit Northfleet, and report on the expediency of estab- lishing a dockyard and naval arsenal there. This terminated his public official labours, which were so highly valued that in 1812 he was raised to the rank of baronet, anil appointed in the same year phy- sician-in-ordinary to the prince regent. In 1819 he reappeared as an author, by the publication of Elements of Medical Logic, the most useful of his writings, and one so highly prized that, in the course of a few years, it went through several editions. In 1 82 1, having now for two years been past the "three- score and ten" that constitute the common boundary of human life, he suffered under the effects of old age in the form of prurigo senilis, for which he was obliged to take such copious doses of opium, that he became a confirmed opium eater; but this habit, so fatal in most instances, seems in him to have been counteracted by the disease which it alleviated, for he continued to the last in full possession and use of his intellectual faculties. In 1S22 he published Select Dissertations on Several Subjects of Medical Science, most of which had previously appeared in the form of separate papers in the most important of our medical periodicals. In 1826 he was elected a member of the Institute of France. Although a long period of peace had now occurred, his zeal for the welfare of the navy still continued. This he had first manifested on his being placed at the head of the navy medical board, when he caused regular returns or journals of the state of health and disease to be kept by every surgeon in the service, and for- warded to the navy board, from which returns he drew up those dissertations that were read before the Medico-Chirurgical Society, and published in its Transactions. Hut anxious still more effectually to promote emulation and reward merit in the medical department of the British naval service, he founded in 1S29, with the sanction of the lords of the Ad- miralty, a prize medal for the be>t journal kept by the surgeons of his Majesty's navy. This medal is awarded every second year, the commissioners select- ing four of the best journals for competition. On HECTOR BOECE. 153 the accession of William IV. to the throne in 1830, the sovereign was not forgetful of his old shipmate, and Sir Gilbert was appointed first physician to the king. Fully rewarded witli wealth and honours, and laden with years, Sir Gilbert Plane could now retire gracefully from the scene of public life, and leave his place to be filled by younger men; and this he did in a manner that was consistent with his previous career. 'I he whole island was filled with consternation at the coming of the cholera, and the havoc which it wrought wherever it appeared, upon which he published a pamphlet in 1831, entitled Warning to the British Public against the Alarming Approach of the Indian Cholera. After this he retreated, at the age of eighty-two, into peaceful retirement, where he solaced his leisure hours in revising and preparing for publication the second editionofhis Select Dissertations, which issued from the press before he died. His death occurred on the 26th of June, 1834, in the eighty-fifth year of his age. BOECE, Hector, whose name was otherwise spelled Boyis, Boyes, Boiss, and Boice, an eminent, though credulous historian, was born about the year 1465-6 at Dundee, and hence he assumed tiie sur- name of Deidonanus. His family were possessed of the estate of Panbride, or Balbride, in the county of Angus, which had been acquired by his grandfather, Hugh Boece, along with the heiress in marriage, in consequence of his services to David II. at the battle of Dupplin. The rudiments of his education he received in his native town, which at that time, and for a long time after, was celebrated for its schools: he afterwards studied at Aberdeen, and finally at Paris,- where, in 1497, he became a pro- fessor of philosophy in the college of Montacute. Of a number of the years of his life about this period there is evidently nothing to be told. The garrulous and sometimes fabling Dr. Mackenzie has filled up this part of his life with an account of his fellow- students at Paris — all of whose names, with one exception, have sunk into oblivion. That exception is the venerated name of Erasmus, who, as a mark of affection for Boece, dedicated to him a catalogue of his works, and maintained with him in after-life as regular a correspondence as the imperfect com- munication of those times would permit. In the year 1500 Bishop Elphinstone, who had just founded the college of Aberdeen, invited Boece home to be the principal. The learned professor, reluctant to quit the learned society he enjoyed at Paris, was only persuaded to accept this invitation, as he in- forms us himself, "by means of gifts and promises;" the principal inducement must o( course have been the salary, which amounted to forty merks a year — equal to two pounds three shillings and fourpence sterling— a sum. however, which Dr. Johnson re- marks, was then probably equal, not only to the needs, but to the rank of the president of King s College. On his arrival at Aberdeen he found, among the chanons regular, a great many learned men. and became a member of their order. From this on:er. indeed, the professors seem to have been selecte 1. As colleague in his new office. Hector boece .>-■ • ciated with himself Mr. William Hay. a ger.tl of the shire of Angus, who had stu . : . ; \- « ■'■ him under the same masters both a! 1 ''.;:. . Paris. Alexander Hay, a chanon of A: en, wr.s the first teacher of scholastic the i _ ;■ .' thai univer- sity. David Guthry and Jame-< »giiv\ are ir.ei ! as professors of civil and cam ; ital 154 HECTOR BOECE. was the first who taught philosophy at Aberdeen, and for this purpose he wrote An Easy Introduction to the Philosophy of Aristotle. Another of the learned professors was Alexander Galloway, rector of Kinked, who was author of a treatise on t he . Ebudae or Western Isles, with an account of the Cla$ or Claik Geese, and the trees upon which they were found to grow; a work no longer to be found, but the best parts of which are probably embodied in Boece's History of Scotland. Arthur Boece, brother to the principal, was also one of his assistants. He was a tutor of the canon law, and a licentiate in the civil; a man of great eloquence and singular erudition. Besides these, Boece has commemorated several others, who were his assist- ants, and retlected lustre upon the dawn of learning in the north. Some of them were, according to the learned principal's account, men of high eminence, whose influence was great in the days in which they lived, and whose example extended even to after- ages. He particularly refers to John Adam, who was the first to receive the degree of Doctor of Theology in the university; after which he was made principal of the Dominican order, which, from the vicious lives, the poverty and the ignorance of its members, had sunk into great contempt, but which he raised into high respectability, both for piety and learning. ( )n the death of his patron, Bishop Elphin- stone, in 1514, Boece, out of gratitude for his friend- ship and respect for his great learning and exemplary virtue, resolved to give to the world an account of his life, in composing which he was so struck with the exemplary conduct of others who had filled that see. that he determined to write the history of the lives of the whole of the bishops of Aberdeen. This laborious undertaking he completed in Latin, after the custom of the age, and gave to the world in the year 1522. It was printed at Paris by Badius Ascensius. His next, anil by far his greatest work, was a //. to/y of Scotland, from the earliest accounts. To I his w >rk he was pr> ibably stimulated by the example of John Mair or Major, a tutor of the Sorborme, and principal of the college of St. Salvadore at St. Andrews, whose History of Scotland, in six books, was published at Paris in the year 1521. The 'ironicon had been originally written by John Fordun, a canon of Aberdeen, and continued by Walter Bower or Bowmaker to the death of James I., nearly a century previous to this, as had also the metrical i'hronykil of Scotland by Andrew Winton, prior of Lochleven, but all of them written in a style dignity of history, and disguised by the mtemptible fables. Slair was more studious oi truth, bat his narrative is meagre and his style loose ai ; disjointed. Boece was a man of high talent, : the hot Latin scholars which his country has at any period produced; but he was credul i'.is in a high degree, and most unquestionably has given his authority, such as it was, to many did not himself absolutely invent them; and he ha- rested the truth of his facts upon authors that never existed except in his own imagination. Of the In^ln lyis, which Buchanan complains had cost him so much trouble to purge out of the Story ofSci tland, perhaps he had not preserved the greatest r. but he certainly had more of the Scot/is : initic than even that great man was willing to part with. In imitation of some other historians he has introduced his history with the cosmography of the country, in which he lias been followed by Buchanan. Some passages we have selected from this part of I the work, illustrative of his taste for, and his know- ledge of. natural history. 'I he extracts are taken 1. <;:i the translation of John Bellenden, archdeacon \ of Murray, which was made for the benefit of King lames V., who, from a defective education, was unable to read the original. That they may afford the reader a genuine specimen of our ancient Scottish prose, we have given these few extracts in their original orthography. The first is the result of the inquiries of Hector Boece into the claicks or clag- geese that were supposed to grow upon trees. ''Sum men belevis that thir claiks grows on treis by the nobbis, hot thair opinion is vane. And because the nature and procreation of thir claikis is strange, we have maid na little laubore and diligence to serch the truth and veritie thairof. We have sailit throw the seis quhare they ar brede, and find by grit experience that the nature of the seis is maire relevant cause of their procreation than ony other thyng; for all treis that are cussen in the seis be process of tyme apperis first worme etin, and in the small hollis and boris thairof growis small wormis. First they schaw thair heid and feit, and last of all they schaw thair plumis and wingis. Finally, quhen they are cumin to the just measure and quan- tise of geis, they fie in the aire as othir fowlis. Thairfore because the rude and ignorant pepyll saw oftymes the fruitis that fell off the treis quhilk stude nair the see, coivertit within short tyme in geis, they belevit that thir geis grew upon the treis hing- and be thair nobbis, sic like as apillis and uthir fruitis, bot thair opinion is nocht to be sustainit." This absurd nonsense is by the vulgar in some places believed to this day. The barnacle has somewhat the appearance of a fowl in miniature inclosed in a shell, and this they suppose to be the young of the claik-goose. The following will not appear less wonderful to the greater part of readers than the procreation of the claiks. "The wolffis ar richt noysum to the tame bestial in all pairts of Scotland, except ane pairt thairof, named Glenmore; in quhilk the tame bestial gets lytill damage of wyld bestial, especially of toddis. For ilk hous nurises ane young todd certane days, and mengis the fleshe thairof after it be slane, with sic meit as they gif to thair fowlis or uthir small beistis, and sac mony as eits of this meit ar preservit twa months after fra ony damage be the toddis, for toddis will gust 11a fleshe that gusts of thair ain kynd; and be thair bot ane beist or fowl that has nocht gustit of this meit the todd will chais it out amang ane thousand." Could the following art be rediscovered it would be a great saving in the article barley, and would besides render the malt-duty of non-effect. "In nil the desertis and muires of this realme growis an herbe namit hadder, bot [without] ony seid, richt nutritive baith to beistis and fowlis, speciallie to beis. This herbe, in the month of Julie, has ane floure of pur- pure hew, als sweet as honey. The Pychts maid of this herbe sum tyme ane richt delicious and halsume drynk, nochtheless the manier of the making of it is perist be the extermination of the said Pyelitis, for thev schaw nevir the craft of the making of this drink hot to thair awn blude." Of the miraculous the two following are tolerable specimens. "In Orkney is ane grit fische, mair than onie hors, of marvelous and incredible sleip. This fische, whan she begins to sleip, fesnis hir teith fast on ane crag abave the water. Als soon as the marinerisfynis hir on sleip. they come with ane stark cabiH in ane boat, and efter they have borit ane hole threw hir tail, the}' fesne hir to the samyn. Als soon as this fische is awalknit, she maks her to loup with grit fine into the see, and fra she fynd hirseff fist she' wrythis hir out of her awn skin and deis. < 'I the fatness that scho lies is maid oulie in grit quantitie, and of hir skin is maid Strang cabills." HECTOR BOECE DAVID BOG UK. "In Murrayland, in the kirke of Pette, the bains of lytill John remains in grit admiration of the pepill. He has been fourteen feit of hight, with square members effeiring thairto. Sax yeirs afore the cumin of this werk to light, we saw his hansfa l>ain als meikle as the haill bain of ane man, for we shut our arm in the mouth thairof, byquhilk appeirs how Strang and square pepill grew in our region afore they war effeminat with lust and intemperance of mouth." Perhaps, after all, the last paragraph of Boece's Cosmography of Scotland might have been sufficient to attest his character: "Thus it were needful to put an end to our cosmographie, were not an uncouth hi-tory tarryis a 1 It i 11 my pen. Mr. Jame Ogilby, with utlier nobylmen, wes send as ambassatouris frae the maist nobill prince King James the feird to the Kyng of France, and be tempest of see they war constraint to land in Norway, quhare they saw nocht far fra thaim mony wild men nakit and ruch, on the sam maner as they war painted. At last they got advertising bylandwart pepill that they war doum beestis under the figur of men, quha in tyme of nicht usit to come in grit companies to landwart villages, and quhan they fand na doggis they brek up doris, and slays all the pepill that they fynd thair intill. They are of sa huge strenth that they pull up treis by the rutis and fechts thairwith amang thaimself. The ambassatouris war astonist at thir monstouris, and made strick watches with grit fyres birnand all nicht, and on the morrow they pullit up sails and depairtit, Forther, the Norway men schow that there wes also nocht far fra thaim an pepill that swomit all the symer, like fische in the see, leifand on fische, bot in the winter, because the water is cauld, they leif upon wild beistis that descendis fra the mountainis, and sa endis here the Cosmography of Scot/ami." Such are specimens of what passed for veritable history in Scotland scarcely three centuries ago, and such was the weakness of a man who was certainly in his own day, even by foreigners, reckoned an ornament to his country. The truth is, knowledge in those days was most deplorably limited by the difficulty of travelling, and the paucity of books. A geographical writer sat in his study, ignorant personally of everything except what was immediately around him, and liable to be imposed upon by the stories of credulous or lying travellers, which he had no means of correcting or disproving. The philosophical writer was equally liable to be imposed upon by false and superstitious systems, which the age produced in great abundance. Boece's history was published at Paris in 1526, in a folio volume, under the title of Scotorum Historic, Prima Gentis Origine, cum Aliarum ct Remind Gentium Illustratioite non Vulgari. This edition, was printed by Badius, contains seventeen bioks. A second was printed at Lausanne, and published at Paris in 1574, about forty years after the death of Boece. In this were added the eighteenth and part of a nineteenth book, written by himself; and a continuation of the history to the end of the reign of James III., by Ferrarius, a learned I'iedmontese, who came to Scotland in 152S, in the train of Robert Reid, abbot of Kinloss, and afterwards bishop of Orkney. Soon after the publication of his history (1527), James V. bestowed upon Boece a pension of /."50 Scots yearly, which was to be paid by the sheriff of Aberdeen out of the king's casualties. Two years afterwards a new prece] : was issued, directing this pension to be paid by the customers of Aberdeen, until the king should promote him to a benefice of 100 merks Scots of yearly value. By a sub; regulation, the pension was partly paid by the king's comptroller, ami partly by the treasurer. As the payment appears for the last time in the treasurer's books for 1534, it is probable that about that time the king carried into effect his intention of exchanging the pension for a benefice. The benefice so given was the rectory of Fyvie in Aberdeen-hire, which Boece held at his death in 1536, as appears from the record of the presentation of his successor. According to Gordon of Straloch, the death of the reverend historian happened at Aberdeen; he was then about seventy years of age. In estimating the character of Hector Boece, many circumstances must be taken into account. It is certainly impossible to read his history without feeling contempt for his understanding as well as for his veracity; yet when we consider the night of ignorance, imbecility, and error in which he lived, contempt gives place to strong compassion, and we feel disposed to apologize for, rather than to blame him. Lord Hailes has bitterly remarked that the Scots were reformed from Popery, but not from Boece, and Pinkerton inveighs against him as "the most egregious historical impostor that ever appeared in any country!" It is enough, however, for the vindication of this elegant writer, that he fulfilled all the duties that could be demanded from a his- torian in his own time, and could not be expected, to use a more just expression of Dalrymple, to be a philosopher before philosophy revived. That he- was incapable of designed imposture, appears in- contestably proved by the testimonies of his contem- poraries; Erasmus in particular styling him a man who "knew not what it was to make a lie." The highest honours have been bestowed upon the learning and genius of Boece, by the most dis- tinguished men of his own and the subsequent age, among whom it is enough to mention Paul Jovius, Joannes Gualterius, Bishop Lesly, Archbishop Spotswood, and Buchanan. Bartholomew Lato- mas, a well-known annotator on Cicero, Terence, and Horace, honoured his memory by a beautiful Latin epitaph, of which the following English trans- lation will give some faint idea : — "That in this tomb the never-fading light Streams bright from blazing torches un< : -.-■::-. !. Art thou amazed, and would'st thou read aright; Hector Boethius, know, lies here inhume 1. He who his country's hills and vales illumed With all the lustre of the Latian 1 re. Chasing the shades of darkness deep, f re-doom'd, Hey nd the freezing p >le and Thule's shore. F r this adorn'd, graceful in Roman dress, Deserved thanks the Scotian Muses pay To him who gave them life — decreeing thus Upon his tomb unfading light shall play. From torches burning bright, that ne'er shall kn » BOGUE, David, the father, as he has been of the London Missionary Society, was b Hallvdown in the parish of Coldingham, He shire, on the iSth February, 1750. His fathe farmed his own estate, was descended of a res] i family which had been long settled in I lib studies are sail to have been ca 1 )unse under the superintendence < if the Cruikshanks, not less rememl hi- tuition, than for the severity of 1 He afterward- removed to the university : burgh, and studied moral : • : Ferguson, the well-known auth >r : ; Civil Society. After un lerg >mg •'. study, and being license i a- a with the Church : > tland. fr uv. « e:.\. very flattering pm-pect- in hi- r.a" vi removed to London 1 1 TT 1 ». and was ; r - :.. ;-.. at -wick- y, he- time 1. 56 DAVID BOGUE THOMAS BOSTON. employed in the humble, but meritorious, capacity of usher in an academy at Edmonton, afterwards at Hampstead, and finally with the Rev. Mr. Smith of Camberwell, whom he also assisted in the discharge of his ministerial duties both at Camberwell and at Silver Street, London, where he held a lectureship, the duties of which were at one time performed by the celebrated John Home. The zeal with which Mr. Bogue discharged his duties in both of these capacities, contributed not less to the satisfaction of Mr. Smith, than to the increase of his own popu- larity. At length, on the resignation of the minister of an Independent chapel at Gosport, Mr. Bogue was unanimously chosen to fill the vacant charge. The duties of his new situation were such as to re- quire all the strength of judgment and uncompromis- ing inflexibility, tempered with Christian meekness, which entered so largely into his character. The charge was one of great difficulty, ami of peculiar imp >rtance. The members of the congregation were divided among themselves, and part ol them had indeed with Irawn from the communion altogether, during the ministry of his predecessor, and formed themselves into a separate congregation, under a rival minister; but the exemplary conduct of Mr. Bogue, and his zeal in the discharge of his duties, were such, that he had scarce occupied the pulpit twelve months when a reunion was effected. His fame as a solid and substantial scholar, and an evangelical and indefatigable minister, now spread rapidly; and in ijSo he became tutor to an estab- lishment for directing the studies of young men destined for the Christian ministry in connection with the Independent communion. For the ability with which this establishment was conducted, both now and when it afterwards became a similar one for those destined for missionary labours, his praise is indeed in all the churches. It was in this period, though occupied with the details of wdiat most men would have felt as a full occupation of their time, that his ever-active mind turned its attention to the formation of a grand missionary scheme, which after- wards resulted in the London Missionary Society. The influence of this institution was extensive, and the springing up of the British and Foreign Bible Society and the Religious Tract Society at short intervals, proves how much good was effected by the impetus thus given by one master-mind. In the establishment of both of these he likewise took an active part, contributing to the latter body the first of a series of publications which have been of great Usefulness. In the year 1796 Mr. Bogue was called upon to show whether he who had professed him- self such a friend to missionary enterprise, was sufficiently imbued with the spirit of the gospel to enable him to forsake home and the comforts of civilized society, to devote himself to its sacred cause. The call alluded to was made and it was not made in vain by Robert Haldane, Esq., of Airthrie, who, to furnish funds for this grand enterprise, sold his estate. '1 heir design was, in conjunction with two other divine-, who had recently left the Established Church of Scotland and become Independent min- isters, to preach the gospel to the natives of India, and likewise to form a seminary for the instruction of fellow-labourers in the same field. The names of the two other ministers were the Rev. Grevillc Kwing of Glasgow, and the Rev. \V. I lines of Edinburgh. But the design was frustrated by the East India Company, who refused their sanction to the under- taking — a most fortunate circumstance, as it after- wards appeared, in as far as the missionaries were individually concerned; for a massacre of Europeans took place at the exact spot where it was intended the mission should have been established, and from which these Christian labourers could scarcely have hoped to escape. In 181 5 Mr. Bogue received the diploma of Doctor of Divinity from the senatus academicus of Yale college, North America. His zeal for the cause of missions, to which he consecrated his life, continued to the last: he may truly be said to have died in the cause. He annually made tours, in different parts of the country, in be- half of the Missionary Society; and it was on a journey of this kind, in which he had been requested to assist at a meeting of the Sussex Auxiliary Society, that he took ill at the house of the Rev. Mr. Goulty of Brighton, and, in spite of the best medical advice, departed this life on the morning of the 25th of < ktober, 1S25, after a short illness. The effect of this event upon the various churches and religious bodies with which Dr. Bogue w r as connected, was great: no sooner did the intelligence reach London, than an extraordinary meeting of the Missionary Society was called (October 26), in which resolutions were passed expressive of its sense of the bereave- ment, and of the benefits which the deceased had conferred upon the society, by the active part he had taken in its projection and establishment, and subse- quently "by his piayers, his writings, his example, his journeys, and, above all, by his direction and superintendence of the missionary seminary at Gos- port." The only works of Dr. Bogue are, An Essay on the Divine Authority of the New Testament, Dis- courses on the Millennium, and a History of Dissen- ters, which he undertook in conjunction with his pupil and friend Dr. Bennet. The first of these he commenced at the request of the London Missionary Society, with the purpose of its being appended to an edition of the New Testament, which the society intended to circulate extensively in France. In con- sideration of the wide diffusion of infidelity in that country, he wisely directed his attention to the evi- dence required by this class of individuals — address- ing them always in the language of kindness and persuasion, "convinced," as he characteristically remarks, "that the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God," — and if usefulness be taken as a test of excellence, this work is so in a very high degree. No work of a religious character, if we except perhaps the Pilgrim's Progress, has been so popular: it has been translated into the French, Italian, German, and .Spanish languages, and has been widely circulated on the Continent of Europe, where, under the divine blessing, it has been emi- nently useful. In France, in particular, and on the distant shores of America, its influence has been felt in the convincing and converting of many to the cause of Christ. It is, indeed, the most useful of all his works. The discourses on the millennium are entirely practical and devotional, and though they want the straining for effect, and the ingenious speculations with which some have clothed this subject, and gained for themselves an ephemeral popularity — for to all such trickery Dr. Bogue had a thorough aversion— they will be found strikingly to display the enlarged views and sterling good sense of their venerable author. BOSTON, Thomas, an eminent doctrinal writer, was born in the town of Dunse, March 7, 1676, and rei riwd the rudiments of his education at his native town, first under a woman who kept a school in his father's house, and afterwards under Mr. James Btillerwill, who taught what is called the grammar- school. His father was a nonconformist, and, being imprisoned for his recusancy, retained the subject of THOMAS BOSTON. 157 this memoir in prison along with him, for the sake of company, which, notwithstanding his youth, seems to have made a lasting impression on the memory of young Boston. Whether the old man was brought at length to conform, we have not been able to learn; but during his early years, Mr. Boston informs us that lie was a regular attendant at church, "where he heard those of the Episcopal way, that being then the national establishment." He was then, as he in- forms us, living without God in the world, and uncon- cerned about the state of his soul. Toward the end of summer, 16S7, upon the coming out of King James's indulgence, his father carried him to a Presbyterian meeting at Whitsome, where he heard the Rev. Mr. Henry Erskine, who, before the restoration, was minister of Cornhill, and father to the afterwards celebrated Messrs. Ralph and Ebenezer Erskine. It was through the ministrations of this celebrated preacher that Boston was first brought to think seriously about the state of his soul, being then going in the twelfth year of his age. After this he went back no more to the church till the curates were ex- pelled. While at the grammar-school he formed an intimacy with two boys, Thomas Trotter and Patrick Gillies, who regularly met with him, at stated times, in a chamber of his father's house, for reading the Scriptures, religious conference, and social prayer, "whereby," he says, "they had some advantage, both in point of knowledge and tenderness." Mr. Boston made a rapid progress at the school, and before he left it, which was in the harvest of 1689, had gone through all the books commonly taught in such seminaries, and had even begun the Greek, in which language he had read part of John's Gospel, Euke, and the Acts of the Apostles, though he was then but in his fourteenth year. After leaving the grammar- scho il two years elapsed before he proceeded farther in his studies, his father being doubtful if he was able to defray the expense. This led to several attempts at getting him into a gratuitous course at the university, none of which had any success. In the meantime he was partly employed in the composing and trans- cribing lawpapers by a Mr. Cockburn, a public notary, from which he admits that he derived great benefit in after-life. All his plans for a gratuitous acade- mical course having failed, and his father having re- solved to strain every nerve to carry him through the classes, he entered the university of Edinburgh as a student of Greek, December 1, 1691, and studied for three successive sessions. I le took out his laurea- tion in the summer of 1694, when his whole expenses for fees and maintenance were found to amount to one hundred and twenty-eight pounds, fifteen .-hillings and eight pence, Scots money, less than ,/j 1 sterling. That same summer he hail the bursary of the presby- tery of Dunse conferred on him as a student of theo- logy, and in the month of January, 1695, entered the theological class in the college' of Edinburgh, then taught by Mr. George Campbell, "a man."' say- Il >ston, "of great learning, but excessively modest, undervaluing himself, and much valuing th'e tolerable performances of his students." During this session -the only one Boston appears to have regu- larly attende 1 in divinity he also for a time attended the Hebrew class taught by Mr. Alexander Rule, but remarks that he found no particular advantage from it. After returning from the university, Mr. Bo-ton had different applications made to him, and made various attempts to settle himself in a school, bat with no good effect; and in the spring of 1691') he accepted of an invitation from Lady Mersington to superintend the education of her grandchild. Andrew Fletcher of Aberlady, a boy of nine yea:- of age, whose father having died young, his mother was married again to Lieutenant-colonel Bruce of Rennet, in Clackmannanshire. This he was the rather induced to undertake, because the boy being in Edinburgh at the high-school, it gave his precep- tor the power of waiting upon the divinity lectures in the college. In less than a month, however, his pupil was taken home to Rennet, whither Boston ac- companied him, and never had another opportunity of attending the college. In this situation Mr. Boston continued for about a year, and during that period was pressed, once and' again, by the united presbyteries of Stirling and Dumblane to take license- as a preacher, which, for reasons not very obvious, he declined. In the month of March, 1697, he re- turned to Dunse, and by his friend Mr. Colden, minister of that place, was induced to enter upon trials for license before the united presbyteric- of Dunse and Churnside, by which he was licensed as a probationer in the Scottish Church, June 15, 1697. In this character Mr. Boston officiated, as opportunity offered, for two years and three months, partly within the bounds of his native presbytery, and partly within the bounds of the presbyter)' of Stirling. It was fir.-t proposed by his friends ol the presbytery of Dunse to settle him in the parish of Foulden, the Episcopal incumbent of which was recently dead; and, on the first day he officiated there, he gave a remarkably decisive proof of the firmness of his principles. The Episcopal precentor was, under the protection of the great men of the parish, still continued. Boston had no freedom to employ him without suitable acknowledgment-, which, not being clothed with the ministerial char- acter, he could not take. On the morning, there- fore, of the first Sabbath, he told this official that lie would conduct the psalmody himself, which accord- ingly he did, and there was nothing .-.aid about it. In the parish of Foulden, however, he could nut be settled without the concurrence of Cord Ross, who had had a great hand in the enormous oppressions of the preceding period. A personal application on the part of the candidate was required by his lordship, and the presbytery were urgent with Boston to make- it, but to this he could not bring his mind, so the project came to nothing. He was next proposed for the parish of Abbey; but this scheme also was frus- trated through the deceitfulness of the principal heritor, who was a minister himself, and found mean- to secure the other heritors, through whose influence he was inducted by the presbytery to the living. though the parishioners were reclaiming, and charg- ing the presbytery with the blood of their souls if they went on with the settlement. "This," remarks Boston, "was the ungospel-like way ol settling that even then prevailed in the case of planting of churches — a way which I ever abhorred. ' Alter these disappointments Mr. Boston removed to hi- former situation in Clackmannanshire, where he re- mained for a twelvemonth, and in that time wa.- ] re- posed for Carnock, for Clackmannan, and tor I 1 all of which proposals were fruitless, and he rett to Dunse in the month of May, 1699. Mr. Boston had no sooner returned to his 1 tive place than he wa- proposed by his friend Mr. ( for the parish of Simprin, where, a of hesitation on his part, and some littl on the part of the presbytery ami t! ordained minister, September 21. 1090. 1: > he continued conscienti of hi- calling till the year 1707. \vh n, l>\ -yi authority, he wa- tran-porte I t - Ettr ck. Hi- i duction to hi- new charge : k ; i.-t <>| May that year, the very day • '"' between Scotland and Englan ft '. ■ :';'. .: : 1 n which account THOMAS BOSTON. ha remarks that he had frequent occasion to re- member it, the spirits of the people of Ettrick being imbittered on that event against the ministers of the church, which was an occasion of much heaviness to him, though he had never been for the union, but always against it from the very beginning. Simprin, now united to the parish of Swinton, both of which make a very small parish, contained only a few families, to whose improvement he was able greatly to contribute with comparatively little exertion, and the whole population seem to have been warmly attached to him. Ettrick, on the contrary, is a parish extending nearly ten miles in every direction, and required much labour to bring the people to- gether in public, or to come in contact with them at their own houses. Several of them, too, were society men or old dissenters, who had never joined the revolution church from what they supposed to be radical defects in her constitution, as well as from much that had all along been offensive in her general administration. Of her constitution, perhaps, Mr. Boston was not the warmest admirer, for he has told us in his memoirs, that, after having studied the subject of baptism, he had little fondness for national churches, strictly and properly so called, and of many parts of her administration he has again and again expressed decided disapprobation; but he had an undefined horror at separation, common to the greater part of the Presbyterians of that and the pre- ceding generation, which led him to regard almost every other ecclesiastical evil as trifling. He was, however, a conscientious and diligent student, and had already made great progress in the knowledge of the doctrine of grace, which seems to have been but imperfectly understood by many very respectable men of that period. In this he was greatly forwarded by a little book, The Marrcno of Modern Divinity, which he found by accident in the house of one of his parishioners in Simprin, and which had been brought from England by a person who had been a soldier there in the time of the civil wars. Of this h p ik he says, " I found it to come close to the points I was in quest of, and showed the consistency of th >se which I could not reconcile before, so that I rejoiced in it as a light which the Lord had season- ably strack up to me in my darkness." The works ■ pf Jerome, Zanchius, Luther on the Galatians, and Beza's Confession of Faith, which he seems to have fallen in with at the same period (that is, while he was yet in Simprin, about the year 1700), also contri- buted greatly t<> the same end, and seems to have given a cast of singularity to his sermons, which was highly relished, and which rendered them singularly useful in promoting the growth of faith ami holiness among his hearers. In 1702 he took the oath of allegiance ' 1 V ' . the sense of which, he says, he endeavoured to keep on his heart, but never after t ' ok an ither oath, whether of a public or private nature. Boston was a member of the fir-t ( ieneral Assembly held under that queen in the month of March, 170^, of which, as the person that was supposed to be most acceptable V> the commissioner, the Karl of Seaficld, Mr. George Meldrum was chosen moderator. The declaration of the intrinsic power of the church was the great object of the more faithful pait of her minis- ters at this time; but they were told by the leading •party that they already possessed it, and that to make an act asserting what they possessed, was only to waste time. While thi> very Assembly, however, was in the midst of a discussion upon an overture for preventing the marriage of Protestants with Papists, the commissioner, rising from his seat, dissolved the Assembly in her majesty's name. "This having come," Boston remarks, "like a clap of thunder, there were from all corners of the house protestations offered against it, and for asserting the intrinsic power of the church, with which," he adds, "I joined in: but the moderator, otherwise a most grave and composed man, being in as much confusion as a schoolboy when beaten, closed with prayer, and got away together with the clerk, so that nothing was then got marked. This was one of the heaviest days,'' he continues, "that ever I saw, beholding a vain man trampling under the privileges of Christ's house, and others crouching under the burden; and I could not but observe how Providence rebuked their shifting the act to assert as above said, and baffled their design in the choice of the moderator, never a moderator since the revolution to this day, so far as I can guess, having been so ill-treated by a commissioner." This reflection in his private journal, however, with the exception of an inefficient speech in his own synod, appears to be all that ever Boston undertook for the vindication of his church on this occasion. It does not indeed appear that his feelings on this subject were either strong or distinct, as we find him at Ettrick, in the month of January, 1708, declaring that he had no scruple in observing a fast appointed by the court, though he thought it a grievance that arose from the union and the taking away of the privy council. On this occa- sion he acknowledges that many of his hearers broke off and left him, several of whom never returned ; but he justifies himself from the temper of the people, who, had he yielded to them in this, would have dictated to him ever afterwards. This same year he was again a member of the General Assembly, where application was made by persons liable to have the abjuration oath imposed upon them for an act declaring the judgment of the Assembly regard- ing it. The Assembly refused to do anything in this matter; which was regretted by Mr. Boston, and he states it as a just retribution which brought it to ministers' own doors in 1712, only four years after- wards. On this occasion also he was in the Assem- bly, but whether as a spectator or a member he does not say. The lawfulness of the oath was in this Assembly keenly disputed, and Boston failed not to observe that the principles on which the answers to the objection were founded were of such latitude, that by them any oath might be made passable. They were indeed neither more nor less than the swearer imposing his own sense upon the words employed, which renders an oath altogether nugatory. In this manner did Principal Carstairs swear it before the justices in Edinburgh, to the great amuse- ment of the Jacobites, and being clear for it, he, in the Assembly, by his singular policy, smoothed down all asperities, and prevented those who had not the same capacity of conscience from coming to anything like a rupture with their brethren, for which cause, says Hoston, I did always thereafter honour him in my heart ! Boston, nevertheless, abhorred the oath, and could not bring his mind to take it, but deter- mined to keep his station in the church till thrust out of it by the civil authorities. lie made over to his eldest son a house in Dunse, which he had in- herited from his father, and made an assignation of all his other goods to his servant, John Currie, so that, when the law took effect, he might elude the penalty of five hundred pounds sterling that was attached to the neglect or the refusal to take the <>ath within a prescribed period. The memory of the late persecuting reigns was, however, still fresh, and no one appeared willing to incur the odium of imitating them; and, so far as we know, the penalty was never in one single instance exacted. The THOMAS BOSTOX. *59 subject of this memoir, at least, was never brought to any real trouble respecting it. Amid all Mr. Boston's attention to public affairs he was still a most diligent minister; and instead of relaxing anything of his labours since leaving Simp- rin, had greatly increased them by a habit he had fallen into of writing out his sermons in full, which in the earlier part of his ministry he scarcely ever did. This prepared the way for the publication of his sermons from the press, by which they have been made extensively useful. The first suggestion of this kind seems to have come from his friend Dr. Trotter, to whom he paid a visit at Dunse, after assisting at the sacrament at Kelso, in the month of October, 1 71 1 ; on which occasion the notes of the sermons he had preached on the state of man were left with the Doctor for his perusal, and they formed the foundation of that admirable work, The Fourfold State, which was prepared for publication before the summer of 1 714, but was laid aside for fear of the Pretender coming in and rendering the sale impos- sible. In the month of August, the same year, he preached his action sermon from Hosea ii. 19; which met with so much acceptance, that he was requested for a copy with a view to publication. This he complied with, and in the course of the following winter it was printed under the title of The Ever- lasting Espousals, and met with a very good recep- tion, 1200 copies being sold in a short time, which paved the way for the publication of The Fourfold State, and was a means of urging him forward in the most important of all his public appearances, that in defence of the Marrow of Modern Divinity. During the insurrection of 1 71 5 he was troubled not a little with the want of military ardour among his parishioners of Ettrick, and in the year 1717 with an attempt to have him, altogether against his inclination, transported to the parish of Closeburn, in Dumfriesshire. In the meantime, The Fourfold State had been again and again transcribed, and had been revised by Mr. John Flint at Edinburgh; and, in 1718, his friends, Messrs. Simson, Gabriel Wilson, and Henry Davidson, offered to advance money to defray the expense of its publication. The MS., however, was sent at last to Mr. Robert Wightman, treasurer to the city of Edinburgh, who ultimately became the prefacer and the publisher of the book, with many of his own emendations, in consequence of which there was a necessity for cancelling a number of sheets and reprinting them, before the author could allow it to come to the public; nor was it thoroughly purged till it came to a second edition. The first came out in 1720. The oath of abjuration, altered, in a small degree, at the petition of the greater part of the Presbyterian nonjurors, was again imposed upon ministers in the year 17 19, when the most of the ministers took it, to the great grief of many of their people, and to the ad lilional persecution of the few who still wanted :i to take it, of which number Mr. Boston stiil continued to be one. Mr. Boston was at this time employed by the synod to examine some over- tures from the Assembly regarding discipline; and having been, from his entrance on the ministry, dis- satisfied with the manner of admitting to the Lord's table and planting vacant churches, he set himself to have these matters rectified, by remarks upon, and enlargements of these customs. The synod did not, however, even so much as call for them, and, though they were by the presbytery laid before the commission, they were never taken into considera- tion. "And I apprehend,'' says Boston, "that the malady will be incurable till th • | r ~er.t constitution be vah,-')y thrown do*.*' i <'■ j» <:.'•< '.-.-.i. were thus careless of any improvement in discipline, they were not less so with regard to doctrine. The Assembly, in 1 7 1 7, had dismissed Professor Simson, without censure, though he had gone far into the regions of error; and they condemned the whole presbytery of Auchterarder for denying that any pre-requisite qualification was necessa'ry on the part of the sinner for coming to Christ; and this year, 1 719, they, at the instigation of Principal Haddow of St. Andrews, commenced a prosecution against Mr. James Hog of Carnock, who had published an edition of the Marrmv, Alexander Hamilton, minister of Airth, James Brisbane, minister at Stirling, and John Warden, minister at Gargunnock, who had ad- vocated its principles: which ended in an act of the General Assembly, forbidding all under their ins; sec- tion in time coming to teach or preach any such doctrines. This act of Assembly was by Boston and his friends brought before the presbytery of Selkirk, who laid it before the synod of Merse and Teviot- dale. Nothing to any puqiose was done in the synod; but the publicity of the proceedings led to a correspondence with Sir. James Hog, Mr. Ralph Erskine, and others, by whom a representation and petition was given in to the Assembly, 1721. This representation, however, was referred to the com- mission. When called before the commission, on Thursday, May 18,, Mr. Hog not being ready, and Mr. Bonar of Torphichen gone home, Mr. Boston had the honour of appearing first in that cause. On that day they were borne down by universal clamour. Next day, however, Principal Haddow was closely pushed in argument by Mr. Boston, and Eogan of Culcross was completely silenced by Mr. William- son of Inveresk. The commission then gave out to the twelve representing brethren twelve queries, to which they were required to return answers against the month of March next. These answers, luminous and brief beyond anything of the kind in our lan- guage, were begun by Mr. Ebenezer Erskine, but greatly extended and improved by Mr. Gabriel Wilson of Maxton. For presuming thus to questii n the acts of Assembly, the whole number were ad- monished and rebuked. Against this sentence they gave in a protestation, on which they took : ments in due form; but it was not allowed to be read. In the meantime, Mr. Boston prepared an edition of the Marro7v, illustrated by copious note-, which was published in 1726, and has ever since been well-known to the religious public. The Assembly, ashamed, after all, of the act complained of. re- modelled it in such a way as to abate somewh grossness, though, in the process, it lost little of its venom. Following out his plan of illustrating gospel truth. Boston preached to his people a course of - on the covenants of work- and of grace, which have long been in the hands of the public, and duly prize . by judicious readers. His last appearance in : .■ General Assembly was in the year 1720. in the ca-e of Professor Simson, where he dissented fr 1 sentence of the Assembly as being no just te-t;m< :.y of the church' m against the by the said Mr. Simson toon the great God and our Saviour, in r agrei al le t rule of God's word in such cases, n ■' a t.' n bring the said Mr. Sim- ' tar.ee, which, he added, he had yet :; : -. This dissent, however, for the .-ake of tl the church, v it ir.igh: ■ :**-. : -: to have 1 A •- :;.' !v' books. His Ia-t 1 • a letter to 1 presbytery, v." .... . May 2, i;.;2. re- i6o JAMES BOSWELL. which breathes all the ardour and piety of his more early productions, and in which he deprecates the turning of that overture into a standing law, as what cannot fail to be the ruin of the church, and he prays that his letter may be recorded as a testimony against it. His health had been for a number of years declining; he was now greatly emaciated; and he died on the twentieth of May, 1732, in the fifty- sixth year of his age. Mr. Boston was married shortly after his settlement at Simprin to Katharine Brown, a worthy pious woman, by whom he had ten children, four of whom only survived him. Thomas, the youngest, was ordained to the pastoral care of the parish of Oxnam; but removing thence to Jedburgh without a presentation from the patron, or the leave of his presbytery, became one of the fathers of the Relief church. ( >f the fortunes of his other children we have not been informed. Of the character of Boston there can be but one opinion. Ardent and pious, his whole life was devoted to the promoting of the glory of Clod and the best interests of his fellowmen. As an author, though he has been lowered by the publication of too many posthumous works, he must yet be admitted to stand in the first class. Even the most incorrect of his pieces betray the marks of a highly original and powerful mind, and his Fourfold State of Man cannot fail to be read and admired so long as the faith of the gospel con- tinues to be taught and learned in the language in which it is written. BOSWELL, James, the friend and biographer of I >r. Samuel Johnson, was born at Edinburgh, October 20, 1740. The Boswells or Bosvilles, are supposed to have "come in with the Conqueror," and to have migrated to Scotland in the reign of David 1. [1 124-53]. David Boswell of Balmuto, the eleventh represen- tative of the family in succession, had, besides his heir, Alexander, who succeeded to the family estates, a son named Thomas, who became a servant of James IV., and was gifted by that monarch with the lands of Auchinleck, in Ayrshire, which were then in the crown by recognition. James Boswell was the eldest son of Alexander 15 iswell of Auchinleck, and of Euphcmia Erskine. The father was an advocate, in good practice at the Scottish bar; who was, in 1754, elevated to the bench, taking, on that occasion, the designation of Lord Auchinleck. James Boswell, father of Lord Auchinleck, had also been a Scottish barrister, and, a- we learn from Lord Karnes, one of the best of his time; hi- wife was a daughter of Alexander Bruce, i Earl of Kincardine, whose mother was Veronica, a daughter of the noble house of Som- mclvlyk in Holland. Lor an account of Auchinleck, reference may he made to Johnson's Journey to the Western /stands. The father of the biographer was a stern and rigid yterian, and a zealous supporter of the House of Hanover: young Boswell, on the contrary, from his earliest year-, diowed a disposition favourable to the high church and the family of Stuart. Dr. Johnson used to tell the following story of his bio- grapher's early years, which Boswell has confessed to be literally true. "In 1745 Boswell was a line boy, wore a white cockade, and prayed for Kin:; James, till one of his uncles (General Cochran) gave him a shilling, on condition that he would prav for Kin^ George, which he accordingly did." "So you see, adds Boswell, who has himself preserved the anecdote, " Whigs of all ages arc made in the same liYJT." lie received the rudiments of his education at the school of Mr. James Mundell, in Edinburgh, a teacher of considerable reputation, who gave ele- mental instruction to many distinguished men. He afterwards went through a complete academical course at the college of Edinburgh, where he formed an intimacy with Mr. Temple of Allardeen in North- umberland, afterwards vicar of St. Gluvies in Corn- wall, anil known in literary history for a well-written character of Gray, which has been adopted both by Dr. Johnson and Mason in their memoirs of that poet. Mr. Temple and several other young English gentleman were fellow-students of Boswell, and it is supposed that his intercourse with them was the original and principal cause of that remarkable pre- dilection for English society and manners which characterized him through life. Boswell very early began to show a taste for literary composition, in which he was encouraged by Lord Somerville, of whose flattering kindness he ever preserved a grateful recollection. His lively and sociable disposition, and passion for distinguish- ing himself as a young man of parts and vivacity, also led "him, at a very early period of life, into the society of the actors in the theatre. While still at college, Lady Houston, sister of Lord Cathcart, put under his care a comedy, entitled The Coquettes, or the Gallant in the Closet, with a strict injunction that its author should be concealed. Boswell exerted his interest among the players to get this piece brought out upon the stage, and made himself further con- spicuous by writing the prologue, which was spoken by Mr. Parsons. B was condemned at the third performance, and not unjustly, for it was found to be chiefly a bad translation of one of the worst plays of Corneille. Such, however, was the fidelity of Boswell, that, though universally believed to be the author, and consequently laughed at in the most unmerciful manner, he never divulged the name of the fair writer, nor was it known till she made the discovery herself. After studying civil law for some time at Edin- burgh, Boswell went for one winter to pursue the same study at Glasgow, where he, at the same time, attended the lectures of Dr. Adam Smith on moral philosophy and rhetoric. Here he continued, as at Edinburgh, to adopt his companions chiefly from the class of English students attending the university. Inspired, by reading and conversation, with an almost enthusiastic notion of London life, Boswell paid his first visit to that metropolis in 1760, and his ardent expectations were not disappointed. The society, amusements, and general style of life which he found in the modern Babylon, and to which he was introduced by the poet Derrick, were suited exactly to his taste and temper. He had already given some specimens of a talent for writing occa- sional essavs and poetical jeux d 'esprit, in periodica! works, and he therefore appeared before the wits of the metropolis as entitled to some degree of attention. He was chielly indebted, however, for their friend- ship, to Alexander, Earl of Eglintoune, one of the most amiable and accomplished noblemen ol his time, who, being of the same county, and from his earliest years acquainted with the family of Auchin- leck, insisted that young Boswell should have an apartment in his house, and introduced him, as Bo-well himself used to say, "into the circle of the great, the gay, and the ingenious." Lord Eglintoune carried his young friend along with him to New- market; an adventure which seems to have made a strong impression on Boswell's imagination, as he I celebrated it in a poem called The Cub at A'ew- j market, which was published by Dodsley, in 1762, JAMES BOSWELL. i6l in 4to. The cub was himself, as appears from the following extract : — "Lord Kglintoune, who loves, you know, A little dash of whim or so, Ky chance - a curious cub had got, On Scotia's mountains newly caught." In such terms was Boswell content to speak of him- self in print, even at this early period of life, and, what adds to the absurdity of the whole affair, he con lil not rest till he had read The Cub at New- market in manuscript to Edward, Duke of York, and obtained permission from his royal highness to dedi- cate it to him. It was the wish of Eord Auchinleck that his son should apply himself to the law, a profession to which two generations of the family had now been devoted, and in which Lord Auchinleck thought that his own eminent situation would be of advantage to the success of a third. Boswell himself, though, in obedience to his father's desire, he had studied civil law at the colleges of Edinburgh and Glasgow, was exceedingly unwilling to consign himself to the studious life of a barrister at Edinburgh, where at this time the general tone of society was the very reverse of his own temperament. He had already cast his eyes upon the situation of an officer in the foot-guards, as calculated to afford him that indul- gence in London society which he so much desired, while it was, at the same time, not incompatible with his prospects as a Scottish country gentleman, and it was with some difficulty that his father prevailed upon him to return to Scotland and consult about the choice of a profession. The old judge even took the trouble to put his son through a regular course of instruction in the law, in the hope of inspiring him with an attachment to it. But though he was brought the length of standing his trials as a civilian before a committee of the faculty, he could not be prevailed upon to enter heartily into his father's views. During part of the years 1761 and 1762, while con- fined to Edinburgh and to this partial and unwilling study of the law, lie contrived to alleviate the irksome- ness of his situation by cultivating the society of the illustrious men who now cast a kind of glory over Scotland and Scotsmen. Karnes, Blair, Robertson, Hume, and Dalrymple, though greatly his seniors, were pleased to honour him with their friendship; more, perhaps, on account of his worthy and dignified parent than on his own. He also amused himself at this time in contributing jeux iPcsprit to A Col- lection of Original Poems by Scottish Gentlemen, of which two volumes were successively published by Alexander Donaldson, an enterprising bookseller; being an imitation of the Miscellanies of Dodsley. At this time he cultivated a particular intimacy with the Hon. Andrew Erskine, a younger brother of the musical Karl of Kelly, and who might be said to possess wit by inheritance, his father being re- markable for this property (though not for good sense), while his mother was the daughter of Dr. Pitcairne. Krskine and Boswell were, in frivolity, Arcades am 'V; or rather there seemed to be a com- petition betwixt them which should exhibit the greater share of that quality. A correspondence, in which this contest seems to be carried on, was pub- lished in 1763, and, as there was no attempt to con- ceal names, the two letter-writers must have been regarde 1, in that dull and decorous age, as little better than fools— fools for writing in such a .-train at all, but doubly fools for laying their fully in such a permanent shape before the world. At the end of the year 1762. Boswell, still retain- ing his wish to enter the guard-, repaired once more vol. 1. to London to endeavour to obtain a commission. Eor this purpose he carried recommendations to Charles, Duke of Queensberry — the amiable patron of Gay — who, lie believed, was able to obtain for him what he wished. Owing, however (as is under- stood), to the backwardness of Lord Auchinleck to enforce his claims, his patrons put him off from time to time, till he was again obliged to return to Scot- land. At length, in the spring of 1763, a compromise was made between the father and his son — the latter agreeing to relinquish his favourite project, and re- sume the study of the civil law for one winter at Utrecht, with the view of ultimately entering the legal profession, on the condition that, after the com- pletion of his studies he should be permitted to make what was then called "the grand tour." Boswell set out for this purpose early in 1763; and, accord- ing to the recollection of an ancient inhabitant of Glasgow, his appearance in riding through that city on his way from Auchinleck was as follow-: — "A cocked hat, a brown wig, brown coat, made in the court fashion, red ve>t, corduroy small clothes, and long military-looking boots. He was on horseback, with his servant at a most aristocratic distance be- hind, and presented a fine specimen of the Scottish country gentleman of that day.'' — Edin. Lit. Jour. ii. 327. In Boswell's previous visits to London he had never had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of Dr. Samuel Johnson. He had now that pleasure. On the 16th of May, as he himself takes care to in- form us, while sitting in the backshop of Thomas Davies, the bookseller, No. 8 Russell Street, Covent Garden, Johnson came in, and Boswell was intro- duced by Davies as a young gentleman "from Scot- land." Owing to the antipathy of the lexicographer to that country, his conversation with Boswell was not at first of so cordial a description as at all to predicate the remarkable friendship they afterwards formed. Boswell, however, by the vivacity of his conversation, soon beguiled the Doctor of his preju- dices; and their intimacy was confirmed by a visit which he soon after paid to Johnson at his apart- ments in the Temple. During the few months which Boswell spent in town before setting out for Utrecht, he applied himself assiduously to cultivate this friend- ship, taking apartments in the Temple in order that he might be the oftener in the company of the great man. Even at this early period he began that prac- tice of noting down the conversation of Johnson, which eventually enabled him to compose such a splendid monument to their common memory. He set out for Utrecht in August. 1763, and, after studying for the winter under the celebrated civilian Trotz, proceeded, according to the compact with his father, upon the tour of Europe. In company with the Earl Marischal, whose acquaintance he had formed, he travelled through Switzerland and Ger- many, visiting Voltaire at Ferney, and Rousseau in the wilds of N'eufchatel — men whom his regard for the principles of religion might have taught him to avoid, if his itch for the acquaintance of noted men — one of the most remarkable features of hi- char- acter — had not forced him into their pre-ence. He afterwards crossed the Alps, and -pent some time in visiting the principal cities in Italy, line lie formed an acquaintance with Lord Mountstuart. son of the Karl of Bute, to whom he afterward- de li- cated his law thesis on being admiti I bar. At this time the inhabitants of the -m dl i.-!and of Corsica were engaged in their fain u- -tnigu liberty against the Gcnoe-e; and i I'aoli, their heroic leader, was, I r tl tit f the mo-t noted men in Kurope. Boswell, struck bv an irre- ii l62 JAMES BOSWELL. pressible curiosity regarding this person, sailed to Corsica in autumn, 1765, and introduced himself to Paoli at his palace by means of a letter from Rousseau. He was received with much distinction and kindness, and noted down a good deal of the very striking conversation of the Corsican chief. After a residence of some weeks in the island, during which he made himself acquainted with all its natural and moral features, he returned through France, and arrived in London, February, 1766, his journey being hastened by intelligence of the death of his mother. Dr. Johnson received him, as he passed through London, with renewed kindness and friendship. Boswell now returned to Scotland, and, agreeably to the treaty formed with Lord Auchinleck, entered (July 26, 1766) as a member of the faculty of advo- cates. His temper, however, was still too volatile for the studious pursuit of the law, and he did not make that progress in his profession which might have been expected from the numerous advantages with which he commenced. The Douglas cause was at this time pending, and Boswell, who was a warm partisan of the young claimant, published (November, 1767) a pamphlet entitled '/Vie Essence of the Douglas Cause, in answer to one entitled Considerations on the Douglas Cause, in which a strenuous effort had been made to prove the claimant an impostor. It is said that Mr. Boswell's exert inns on this occasion were of material service in exciting a popular pre- possession in favour of the doubtful heir. This, however, was the most remarkable appearance made by Mr. Boswell as a lawyer, if it can be called so. His Corsican tour and the friendship of Paoli had made a deep impression on Boswell's mind. He conceived that he had seen and made himself ac- quainted with what had been seen and known by few; and he was perpetually talking of the islanders and their chief. This mania, which was rather per- haps to be attributed to his vain desire of showing himself off in connection with a subject of popular talk than any appreciation of the noble character of the Corsican struggle, at length obtained him the nickname of Paoli, or Paoli- Bos'well. Resolving that the world at large should participate in what he knew of Corsica, he published, in the spring of 1768, his account of that island, which was printed in 8vo by the celebrated brothers Foulis at Glasgow, and was well received. The sketches of the island and it- inhabitants are lively and amusing; and his memoir of Paoli, which follows the account of the island, is a spirited narrative of patriotic deed- and sufferings. The work was translated into the German, Dutch, French, and Italian languages, and everywhere in- vaders with it- own enthusiastic feeling in behalf of the oppressed inlanders. Dr. fohnson thus expressed himself regarding it: — "Your journal is curious and delightful; I know not whether I could name any narrative by which curiosity is better 1 or better gratified." On the other hand, Johnson joined the rest of the world in thinking that the author indulged too much personally in his enthusiasm upon the subject, and advised him, in a letter dated March 23, 1 70S, to "empty his head of Corsica." Boswell was so vain of hi- book a- to pay a visit to London in the spring court vacation, chiefly for the purpose of seeking Dr. [ohnson's approbation more at large. In the following winter a patent was obtained, for the first time, by Ross, tin- manager of the Edin- burgh theatre; but, nevertheless, a violent opposition wa- -till maintained against this public amusement by the more rigid portion of the citizens. Ho--, being anxious to appease hi- enemies, solicited Bos- well to write a prologue for the opening of the house, which request was readily complied with. The verses were, as Lord Mansfield characterized them, witty and conciliating; and their effect, being aided by friends properly placed in different parts of the house, was instantaneous and most triumphant; the tide of opposition was turned, the loudest plaudits were given, and Ross at once entered upon a very prosperous career. In 1769 Boswell paid a visit to Ireland, where he spent six or seven weeks, chiefly at Dublin, and enjoyed the society of Lord Charlemont, Dr. Leland, Mr. Flood, Dr. Macbride, and other eminent per- sons of that kingdom, not forgetting the celebrated George Falconer, the friend of Swift and Chester- field. Viscount, afterwards Marquis Townshend, was then lord-lieutenant, and the congeniality of their dispositions united them in the closest friend- ship. He enjoyed a great advantage in the union of one of his female cousins to Mr. Sibthorpe, of the county of Down, a gentleman of high influence, who was the means of introducing him into much good society. Another female cousin, Miss Margaret Montgomery, daughter of Mr. Montgomery of Lain- shaw, accompanied him on the expedition, and not only added to his satisfaction by her own delightful company, but caused him to be received with much kindness by her numerous and respectable relations. This jaunt was the means of converting Boswell from a resolution which he appears to have formed to live a single life. He experienced so much pleasure from the conversation of Miss Montgomery, that he was tempted to seek her society for life in a mat- rimonial engagement. He had resolved, he said, never to marry — had always protested, at least, that a large fortune would be indispensable. He was now, however, impressed with so high an opinion of her particular merit, that he would waive that con- sideration altogether, provided she would waive his faults also, and accept him for better for worse. Miss Montgomery, who was really an eligible match, being related to the noble family of Lglintoune, while her father laid claim to the dormant peerage of Lyle, acceeded to his proposal with corresponding frankness; and it was determined that they should be married at the end of the year, after he should have- paid one parting visit to London. Before this visit was paid, Mr. Boswell was gra- tified in the highest degree by the arrival of General Paoli, who, having been forced to abandon his native island, in consequence of the French invasion. had sought that refuge on the shores of Britain which has never yet been refused to the unfortunate of any country. In autumn, 1769, General Paoli visited Scotland and Boswell; an account of his progress through the country, with Boswell in his train, is given in the Scots Magazine of the time. Both on this occasion and on his subsequent visit to London, Boswell attended the exiled patriot with an obsequious fidelity, arising no doubt as much from his desire of appearing in the company of a noted character, as from gratitude for former favours of a similar kind. Among other persons to whom he introduced his Corsican friend, was Dr. Johnson, an entirely opposite being in destiny and character, but who, nevertheless, was at some pains lo converse with the unfortunate stranger — Boswell acting as interpreter. It would be curious to know in what light I'aoli, who was a high-minded man, beheld his eccentric cicerone. I Hiring the time of his visit lo London, September, 1709, the jubilee took [dace at Stratford, to cele- brate the birth of Shakspeare. As nearly all the literary, and many of the fashionable persons of the day were collected at this solemnity, Boswell entered JAMES BOSWELL. 163 into it with a great deal of spirit, and played, it is said, many fantastic tricks, more suited to a carnival scene on the Continent, than to a sober festival in England. To pursue a contemporary account, "One of the most remarkable masks upon this occasion was James Boswell, Esq., in the dress of an armed (Jorsican chief. He entered the amphi- theatre about 12 o'clock. He wore a short, dark- coloured coat of coarse cloth, scarlet waistcoat and breeches, and black spatterdashes; his cap or bonnet was of black cloth; on the front of it was embroidered in gold letters, Viva la liberta; and on one side of it was a handsome blue feather and cockade, so that it had an elegant as well as a warlike appearance. On the breast of his coat was sewed a Moor's head, the crest of Corsica, surrounded with branches of laurel. He had also a cartridge-pouch, into which was stuck a stiletto, and on his left side a pistol was hung upon the belt of his cartridge-pouch. He had a fusee slung across his shoulder, wore no powder in his hair! but had it plaited at full length, with a knot of blue ribbons at the end of it. He had, by way of staff, a very curious vine all of one piece, with a bird finely carved upon it, emblematical of the sweet bard of Avon. He wore no mask; saying, that it was not proper for a gallant Corsican. So soon as he came into the room, he drew universal attention. The novelty of the Corsican dress, its becoming appear- ance, and the character of that brave nation, con- curred to distinguish the armed Corsican chief. He was first accosted by Mrs. Garrick, with whom he had a good deal of conversation. Mr. Boswell danced both a minuet and a country-dance with a very pretty Irish lady, Mrs. Sheldon, wife to Captain Sheldon of the 38th regiment of foot, who was dressed in a genteel domino, and before she danced, threw off her mask." London Magazine, September, 1769, where there is a portrait of the modern Xenophon in this strange guise. On the 25th of November he was married at Lain- shaw, in Ayrshire, to Miss Montgomery, and what is rather a remarkable circumstance, his father was married on the same day, at Edinburgh, to a second wife. With admirable sense, affection, and gener- osity of heart, the wife of James Boswell possessed no common share of wit and pleasantry. She died in June, 1789, leaving two sons, Alexander and fames, and three daughters, Veronica, Euphemia, and Elizabeth. For two or three years after his marriage Boswell appears to have lived a quiet professional life at Edinburgh, paying only short occasional visits to London. In autumn, 1773, Dr. Johnson gratified him by coming to Edinburgh, and proceeding in his company on a tour through the north of Scotland and the Western Islands. On this occasion Boswell kept a journal, as usual, of every remarkable part of Dr. Johnson's conversation. The journey being made rather late in the season, the two travellers encountered some hardships, and a few dangers; but they were highly pleased with what they saw, and the reception they everywhere met with; Boswell, for his own part, declaring that he would not have missed the acquisition of so many new and delightful ideas as he had gained by this means for live hundred pounds. Dr. Johnson pub- lished an account of their trip, and the observations he made during its progress, under the title of a Journey to the Western Islands; and Boswell, after the death of his friend (17S5). gave to the world the journal he had kept, as a Tour to the Hebrides, I volume Svo. The latter is perhaps one of the most entertaining works in the language, though only rendered so, we must acknowledge, at the expense of the author's dignity. It ran through three edi- tions during the first twelvemonth, and has since been occasionally reprinted. For many years after the journey to the Hebrides, Boswell only enjoyed such snatches of Johnson's company and conversation as he could obtain by occasional visits to London, during the vacations of the Court of Session. Of these interviews, however, he has preserved such ample and interesting records, as must make us regret that he did not live entirely in London. It appears that, during the whole period of his acquaintance with Johnson, he paid only a dozen visits to London, and spent with him only a hundred and eighty days in all; which, added to the time they spent in their northern journey between August 18th and November 23d, 1773, makes the whole period during which the biographt-r enjoyed any intercourse with his subject, only two hundred and seventy-six days, or one hundredth part of Johnson's life. The strangely vain and eccentric conduct of Bos- well had, long ere this period, rendered him almost as notable a character as any of those whom he was so anxious to see. His social and good-humoured character gained him universal friendship; but this friendship was never attended with perfect respect. Men of inferior qualifications despised the want of natural dignity which made him go about in atten- dance upon every great man, and from no higher object in life than that of being the commemorator of their conversations. It is lamentable to state that, among those who despised him, was his own father; and even other relations, from whom respect might have been more imperatively required, were fretted by his odd habits. "Old Lord Auchinleck," says Sir Walter Scott, "was an able lawyer, a good scholar, after the manner of Scotland, and highly valued his own advantages as a man of good estate and ancient family, and, moreover, he was a strict Presbyterian and Whig of the old Scottish cast.'' To this character his son presented a perfect contrast — a light-headed lawyer, an aristocrat only in theory, an Episcopalian, and a Tor)-. But it was chiefly with the unsettled and undignified conduct of his son that the old gentleman found fault. "There's nae hope for Jamie, man," he said to a friend about the time of the journey to the Hebrides; "Jamie's gane clean gyte: What do ye think, man? he's aff wi' the land- louping scoundrel of a Corsican; and whase tail do ye think he has pinned himself to now, man?"' Here the old judge summoned up a sneer of most sovereign contempt. "A dominie, man (meaning Johnson), an auld dominie, that keepit a schule, and ca'd it an academy ! " By the death of Lord Auchin- leck, in 1782, Boswell was at length freed from what he had always felt to be a most painful restraint, and at the same time became possessed of his paternal estate. Boswell's mode of life, his social indulgences, and his frequent desertion of business for the sake of London literary society, tended greatly to embarrass his circumstances; and he was induced to try if they could be repaired by exertions in the world of p< litics. In 17S4, when the people were in a state ot most alarming excitement in consequence of Mr. I'oxs India Bill, and the elevation of Mr. Pitt, he wrote a pamphlet, entitled A L.etter to the People ef Se, t.'and, on the Present Stale of the Xat:on: and en by means of it, to obtain the favourable notice of Mr. Pitt; but we are informed that, though the youthful minister honoured the w rk with his ap- probation, the effort- of the auth r to ] r cure an introduction to political lite were attended with a mortifying want of success. He was, nevertlie! --. induced to appear once mure as a \ amphletecr in i6 4 JAMES BOSWELL. 17S5, when he published a second Letter to the People of Scotland, though upon an humbler theme, namely, "On the alarming attempt to infringe the articles of union, and introducing a most pernicious innovation, by diminishing the numbers of the lords of session." This proposal hail been brought forward in the House of Commons; the salaries of the judges were to be raised, and, that the expense might not fall upon the country, their number was to be reduced to ten. Boswell (to use a modern phrase) immediately commenced a vehement agitation in Scotland, to oppose the bill; and among other measures which he took for exciting public attention, published this letter. His chief argument was, that the number of the judges was established immutably by the act of union; an act which entered into the very con- stitution of parliament itself, and how then could parliament touch it? The agitation prevailed, and the court remained as it had been, for another gene- ration. Boswell, whose practice at the Scottish bar was never very great, had long wished to remove to the English, in order that he might live entirely in London. His father's reluctance, however, had hitherto prevented him. Now that the old gentle- man was dead, he found it possible to follow his inclination, and accordingly he began, from time to time, to keep his terms at the Inner Temple. At Hilary term, 1786, he was called to the English bar, and in the ensuing winter removed his family to London. His first professional effort is said to have been of a somewhat ominous character. A few of the idlers of Westminster Hall, conspiring to quiz poor Bossy, as he was familiarly called, made up an imaginary case, full of all kinds of absurdities, which they caused to be presented to him for his opinion. He, taking all for real, returned a bona- fidc note of judgment, which, while it almost killed his friends with laughter, covered himself with in- effaceable ridicule. It is to be regretted that this decisive step in life was not adopted by Boswell at an earlier period, as thereby he might have rendered his Life of Johnson still more valuable than it is. Johnson having died upwards of a year before his removal, it was a step nl little importance in a literary point of view; nor did it turn out much better in respect of professional profit. So early as 17S1, when Mr. P.urke was in power, that great man had endeavoured to procure an ex- tension of the government patronage towards Boswell. "We must do something for you," he said, "for our own sakes," and recommended him to General Conway for a vacant place, by a letter in which his character was drawn in glowing colours. The place was not obtained; but Boswell declared that he valued the letter more. He was now enabled, by the interest of Lord Lowthcr, to obtain the situation of recorder of Carlisle, binding this recordership, at so great a distance from London, attended with many inconveniences, Boswell, after holding it for about two years, resigned it. It was well known at this time that he was very anxious to get into parliament; and many wondered that so sound a Tory should not have obtained a seat at the hands of some great parliamentary proprietor. Perhaps this wonder may be explained by a passage in his last letter to the People of Seotland. ' "Though ambitious," he says, "I am uncorrupted; and I envy not high situations which are attained by the want of public virtue in men born without it, or by the prostitution of public virtue in men born with it. Though power, and wealth, and magnificence, mav at first dazzle, and are, I think, most desirable, no wise man will, upon sober reflection, envy a situa- tion which he feels he could not enjoy. My friend — my ' Maecenas atavis edite regibus' — Lord Mount- stuart flattered me once very highly without intend- ing it. 'I would do anything for you,' he said, 'but bring you into parliament, for I could not be sure but you would oppose me in something the very next day. ' His lordship judged well. Though I should consider, with much attention, the opinion of such a friend before taking my resolution, most certainly I should oppose him in any measure which I was satisfied ought to be opposed. I cannot exist with pleasure, if I have not an honest independence of mind and of conduct; for, though no man loves good eating and drinking better than I do, I prefer the broiled blade-bone of mutton and humble port of 'downright Shipper!,' to all the luxury of all the statesmen who play the political game all through." He offered himself, however, as a candidate for Ayrshire, at the general election of 1790; but was defeated by the interest of the minister, which was exerted for a more pliant partisan. On this and all other proper occasions, he made no scruple to avow himself a Tory and a royalist; saying, however, in the words of his pamphlet just quoted, "I can drink, I can laugh, I can converse, in perfect good humour, with Whigs, with Republicans, with Dissenters, with Moravians, with Jews — they can do me no harm — my mind is made up — my principles are fixed — but I would vote with Tories, and pray with a dean and chapter." If his success at the bar and in the political world was not very splendid, he consoled himself, so far as his own fancy was to be consoled, by the grateful task of preparing for the press his magnum opus — the life of Dr. Johnson. This work appeared in 1 79 1, in two volumes quarto, and was received with an avidity suitable to its entertaining and valuable character. Besides a most minute narrative of the literary and domestic life of Johnson, it contained notes of all the remarkable expressions which the sage had ever uttered in Mr. Boswell's presence, besides some similar records from other hands, and an immense store of original letters. As decidedly the most faithful biographical portraiture in existence, and referring to one of the most illustrious names in literature, it is unquestionably the first book of its class; and not only so, but there is no other biogra- phical work at all approaching to it in merit. While this is the praise deserved by the work, it happens, rather uncommonly, that no similar degree of ap- probation can be extended to the writer. Though a great work, it is only so by accident, or rather through the persevering assiduity of the author in a course which no man fit to produce a designedly great work could have submitted to. It is only great by a multiplication and agglomeration of little efforts. The preparation of a second edition of the life of Dr. Johnson was the last literary performance of Boswell, who died, May 19, 1795, at his house in Great Poland Street, London, in the 55th year of his age; having been previously ill for five weeks of a disorder which had commenced as an intermit- ting fever. He was buried at the family seat of Auchinleck. The character of Boswell is so amply shadowed forth by the foregoing account of his life, that little more need be said about it. That he was a good- natured social man, possessed of considerable powers of imagination and humour, and well acquainted with literature and the world of common life, is uni- versally acknowledged. He has been, at the same time, subjected to just ridicule for his total want of that natural dignity by which men of the world ALEXANDER AND JAMES BOSWELL. 1*5 secure and maintain the respect of their fellow- creatures in the daily business of life. He wanted this to such a degree, that even those relations whose respect was most necessary, according to the laws of nature, could scarcely extend it; and from the same cause his intellectual exertions, instead of shed- ding a lustre upon his name, have proved rather a kind of blot in his pedigree. His unmanly obse- quiousness to great men — even though some of these were great only by the respect due to talent — his simpleton drollery— his degrading employment as a chronicler of private conversations — his mean tastes, among which was the disgusting one of a fondness for seeing executions — and the half folly, half vanity, with which he could tell the most delicate things, personal to himself and his family, in print — have altogether conspired to give him rather notoriety than true fame, and, though perhaps leaving him affection, deprive him entirely of respect. It was a remarkable point in the character of such a man, that, with powers of entertainment almost equal to Shakspeare's description of Yorick, he was subject to grievous fits of melancholy in private. One of his works, not noticed in the preceding narrative, was a series of papers under the title of The Hypochondriac, which appeared in the London Magazine for 1782, and were intended to embody the varied feelings of a man subject to that distemper. BOSWELL, Alexander and James, sons of the preceding. It has been remarked, as creditable to the memory of James VI., that he educated two sons, who were, both in point of personal and intellectual character, much above the standard of ordinary men. The same remark will apply to the biographer of Johnson, who, whatever may be thought of his own character, reared two sons who stood forth afterwards as a credit to his parental care. A wish to educate his children in the best manner, was one of the ruling passions of this ex- traordinary litterateur in his latter years. He placed both his sons at Westminster School, and afterwards in the university of Oxford, at an expense which appears to have been not altogether justified by his own circumstances. Alexander Boswell, who was born October 9, 1775, succeeded his father in the possession of the family estate. He was distinguished as a spirited and amiable country gentleman, and also as a literary antiquary of no inconsiderable erudition. Perhaps his taste, in the latter capacity, was greatly fostered by the possession of an excellent collection of old manuscripts and books, which was gathered together by his ancestors, and has acquired the well-known title of the "Acchinleck Library." From the stores of this collection, in 1S04, Sir Walter Scott published the romance of Sir Tristram, which is judged by its learne 1 editor to be the earliest speci- men of poetry by a Scottish writer now in existence. Besides this invaluable present to the literary world, the Auchinleck Library furnished, in 1812, the black letter original of a disputation held between John Knox an!' for the benefit of others. Mr. Malone was influenced by these qualifications, added to the friendship which he entertained for Mr. Boswell, to select him as his literary executor; and to his care this eminent com- mentator intrusted the publication of an enlarged and amended edition of Shakspeare, which he had long been meditating. As Mr. Malone's papers were left in a state scarcely intelligible, it is believed that no man but one of kindred genius, like Mr. boswell, could have rendered them at all available. This, however, Mr. Boswell did in the most efficient manner; farther enriching the work with many excellent notes of his own, besides collating the text with all the earlier editions. This work, indeed, which extends to twenty-one volumes, 8vo, must be considered as not only the most elaborate edition of Shakspeare, but perhaps the greatest edition of any work in the English language. In the first volume, Mr. Boswell has stepped forward to defend the literary reputation of Mr. Malone against the severe attacks made by a writer of distinguished eminence, upon many of his critical opinions and statements; a task of great delicacy, and which Mr. Boswell performed in so spirited and gentlemanly a manner, that his preface may be fairly quoted as a model of controversial writing. In the same volume are in- serted "Memoirs of Mr. Malone," originally printed by Mr. Boswell for private circulation ; and a valuable essay on the metre and phraseology of Shakspeare, the materials for which were partly collected by Mr. Malone, but which was entirely indebted to Mr. Boswell for arrangement and completion. Mr. Boswell inherited from his father a keen relish of the society of the metropolis, and accord- ingly he spent his life almost exclusively in the Middle Temple. Few men were better fitted to appreciate and contribute to the pleasures of social intercourse; his conversational powers, and the un- failing cheerfulness of his disposition, rendered him everywhere an acceptable guest; but it was the goodness of his heart, that warmth of friendship which knew no bounds when a call was made upon his services, which formed the sterling excellence, and the brightest feature of Mr. BoswelPs character. This amiable man and excellent scholar died, Feb- ruary 24, 1822, in the forty-third year of his age, and was buried in the Temple church, by a numerous train of sorrowing friends. It is a melancholy cir- cumstance that his brother, Sir Alexander, had just returned from performing the last offices to a beloved brother, when he himself was summoned from ex- istence in the manner above related. BOWER, Archibald, a learned person, but of dubious fame, was born on the 17th of January, 1G86, near Dundee. He was a younger son of a respect- able Catholic family, which, for several centuries, had possessed an estate in Forfarshire. In 1702 he was sent to the Scots College at Douay, where he studied for the church. At the end of the year I 706, having completed his first year of philosophy, he went to Rome, and there, December 9, was admitted into the order of Jesus. After his noviciate, he taught classical literature and philosophy, for two years, at Fano, and subsequently he spent three years at Fcrmo. In 171 7 he was recalled to Rome, to study divinity in the Roman college. His last vows were made at Arezzo, in 1722. bower's fame as a teacher was now, according to his own account, spread over all the Italian states, and he had many invitations to reside in different places, to none of which he acceded, till the college of Macerata chose him for their professor, lie was now arrived at the mature age of fort}-; and it was ARCHIBALD BOWER. 167 not to have been expected that any sudden change, either in his religious sentiments or in his moral conduct, would take place after that period of life. Probably, however, Bower had never before this time been exposed to any temptation. Being now appointed confessor to the nunnery of St. Catherine at Macerata, he is alleged to have commenced a criminal intercourse with a nun of the noble family of Buonacorsi. Alarmed, it is said, for the conse- quences of his imprudence, he determined upon flying from the dominions of the Pope; a step which involved the greatest danger, as he had previously become connected, in the capacity of counsellor, with the holy inquisition, which invariably punished apostasy with death. Bower's own account of his flight sets forth conscientious scruples on the score of religion, as having alone urged him to take that step; but it is hardly credible that a man in his situation could expose his life to imminent danger from a sudden access of scrupulosity. The circum- stances of his flight are given in the following terms by himself: "To execute that design with some safety, I pur- posed to beg leave of the inquisitor to visit the virgin at Loretto, but thirteen miles distant, and to pass a week there, but, in the meantime, to make the best of my way to the country of the Orisons, the nearest country to Macerata out of the reach of the inquisition. Having, therefore, after many conflicts with myself, asked leave to visit the neighbouring sanctuary, and obtained it, I set out on horseback tiie very next morning, leaving, as I purposed to keep the horse, his full value with the owner. I took the road to Loretto, but turned out of it at a small distance from Recenati, after a most violent struggle with myself, the attempt appearing to me, at that juncture, quite desperate and impracticable; and the dreadful doom reserved for me, should I miscarry, presenting itself to my mind in the strongest light. But the reflection that I had it in my power to avoid being taken alive, and a persuasion that a man in my situation might lawfully avoid it, when every other means failed him, at the expense of his life, revived my staggering resolution; and all my fears ceasing at once, I steered my course to Calvi in the dukedom of Urbino, and from thence through the Romagna into the Bolognese, keeping the by- roads, and at a good distance from the cities of Fano, Pisaro, Rimini, Forli, Faenza, and Tivola, through which the high-road passed. Thus I ad- vanced very slowly, travelling, generally speaking, in very bad roads, and often in places where there was no road at all, to avoid, not only the cities and town-, but even the villages. In the meantime, I seldom had any other support than some coarse pro- visions, and a very small quantity even of them, that the poor shepherds and wood-cleavers could spare me. My horse fared not better than myself; but, in choosing my sleeping-place, I consulted his con- venience as much as my own, passing the night where I found most shelter for myself, and most grass for him. In Italy there are very few solitary farm-houses or cottages, the country people there all living t >gether in villages, and I thought it far safer to lie where I could be anyway sheltered, than to venture into any of them. Thus I spent seventeen days -before I got out of the ecclesiastical state; and I very narr iwly escaped being taken or murdered on the very borders of that state. It happened thus: "Iliad passed two whole days without any kind of subsistence whatever, meeting nobody in the bv- roads that would supply me with any, and fearing to come near any house. As I was not far from the border., of the dominions of the Pope, I thought I should be able to hold out till I got into the Modenese, where I believed I should be in less danger than while I remained in the papal dominions; but finding myself, about noon of the third day, extremely weak and ready to faint, I came into the high road that leads from Bologna to Florence, at a few miles dis- tance from the former city, and alighted at a post- house that stood quite by itself. Having asked the woman of the house whether she had any victuals ready, and being told that she had, I went to open the door of the only room in the house (that being a place where gentlemen only stop to change horses), and saw, to my great surprise, a placard pasted on it with a most minute description of my whole person, and the promise of a reward of 800 crown-, about £200 English money, for delivering me up alive to the inquisition, being a fugitive from the holy- tribunal, and 600 crowns for my head. By the same placard, all persons were forbidden, on pain of the greater excommunication, to receive, harbour, or entertain me, to conceal or to screen me, or to l>e any way aiding or assisting to me in making my escape. This greatly alarmed me, as the reader may well imagine; but I was still more affrighted when, entering the room, I saw two fellows drinking there, who, fixing their eyes upon me as soon as I came, continued looking at me very steadfastly. I strove, by wiping my face, by blowing my nose, by looking out at the window, to prevent their having a full view of me. But one of them saying, 'The gentleman seems afraid to be seen,' I put up my handkerchief, and turning to the fellow, said boldly, 'What do you mean, you rascal? Look at me, I am not afraid to be seen.' He said nothing, but, looking again steadfastly at me, and nodding his head, went out, and his companion immediately followed him. I watched them, and seeing them with two or three more in close conference, and no doubt con- sulting whether they should apprehend me or not, I walked that moment into the stable, mounted my horse unobserved by them, and, while they were deliberating in the orchard behind the house, rode off at full speed, and in a few hours got into the Modenese, where I refreshed, both with food and rest, as I was there in no immediate danger, my horse and myself. I was indeed surprised that those fellows did not pursue me; nor can I any other way account for it, but by supposing, what is not im- probable, that, as they were strangers as well as myself, and had all the appearance of banditti or ruffians flying out of the dominions of the pope, the woman of the house did not care to trust them with her horses." Bower now directed his course through the cantons of Switzerland, and as some of these districts were Catholic, though not under the dominion of the inquisition, he had occasionally to resume the mode of travelling above described, in order to avoid being taken. At length, May 1726, lie reached the Scots College at Uouay, where he threw himself u] 1 th protection of the rector. According t 1 his 1 wn narrative, which, however, has been coi many points, he thus proved that, though lie had fled from the horrors of the holy tribun; begun to entertain some d< ul > U] n m '■ ■ d ] arts of the Catholic doctrines, he was 11 : ■->; - 1 to abandon entirely the profession of I had been educated. He even describe- a l ::.-- pondence which he entered, into with th : -v.] eri 1 - 1 his order in France, who at h ngth ■ him to make the best of his way t Fnglan 1. ii that he might g. t fairly 1 tion. This he did i;i of renewed danger, that he \\ ui 1 have 1 ceil detained 1 68 ARCHIBALD BOWER. at Calais, but for the kindness of an English noble- man, Lord Baltimore, who conveyed him over to Dover in his own yacht. He arrived at London in July or August, 1726. His first friend of any eminence in England was Dr. Aspinwall, who, like himself, had formerly be- longed to the order of Jesus. His conversations with this gentleman, and with the more celebrated Dr. Clarke, ami Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, produced, or appeared to produce, such a change in his religious sentiments, that lie soon after abjured the Catholic faith. For six years he continued a Protestant, but of no denomination. At length he joined the com- munion of the Church of England, which he professed to consider "as free in her service as any reformed church from the idolatrous practices ami supersti- tions of Popery, and less inclined than many others to fanaticism and enthusiasm." By his friends he was recommended to Lord Aylmer, who wanted a person to assist him in reading the classics. While thus employed he conducted a review or magazine, which was started in 1730, under the title Historia Litcraria, and was finished in eight volumes, in 1734. Being little acquainted with the English tongue, he composed the early part of this work in Italian, and had it translated by an English student; but before the work was concluded, he had made himself suffi- ciently acquainted with English, to dispense with his translator. After its conclusion, he was engaged by the publishers of the Ancient Unmcrsal History, for which work he wrote during a space of nine years, contributing, in particular, the article "Roman History." It is said that the early part of this pro- duction is drawn out to an undue length, considering that tiiere were various other abridgments of that portion of the history of Rome; while the latter part, referring to the Eastern empire, though comparatively novel and valuable, was, from the large space already occupied, cut down into as many paragraphs as it ought to have occupied pages. The second edition of the Universal History was committed for revisal to Mr. Bower's care, and it is said that, though he received £.y>0 from the publishers, he performed his task, involving though it did a very large commercial interest, in the most superficial and unsatisfactory manner. Hi- writings had been so productive be- fore the year 1740, that he then possessed ^1100 in South Sea annuities. It is alleged that he now wished to lie restored to the bosom of the church, in order that he might share in its bounty as a mission- ary. In order to conciliate its favour, and attest his sincerity, he is said to have offered to it, through bather Shirburn, then provincial of lingland, the whole of his fortune on loan. The money was re- ceived on the conditions stipulated by himself, and was afterwards augmented to ,£1350, for which, in August, 1743, a bond was given, allowing him an annuity equal to 7 per cent, upon the principal. I le is said to have been so far successful in his object that, in 1744 or 1745, he was re-admitted into, or rather reconciled to the order of |esiis though it does not appear that lie ever received the emplov- ment which he expected. In 1747, having been tempted, by a considerable offer, to write a history of the popes in a style agreeable to Protectant feeling, he is alleged to have commenced a correspondence with Father Shirburn for the purpose of getting back his money, led, on breaking again with the- church, the whole should be forfeited. lie pretended that he had engaged in an illicit intercourse with a lady, to whom the money in reality belonged, and that, in order to disengage himself from a connection which lay heavily upon his conscience, he wished to refund the money. Accordingly, on the 20th of June, 1747, he received it back. If we are to be- lieve himself, he did not lend the money to Shirburn, but to Mr. Hill, a Jesuit, who transacted money affairs in his capacity as an attorney. He retracted it, he said, in order to be able to marry. The letters shown as having been written by him to Father Shirburn, were, he said, forgeries prepared by Catholics in order to destroy his popularity with the Protestants. But the literary world has long settled the question against Bower. The letters were pub- lished in 1756 by his countryman Dr. John Douglas, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, along with a com- mentary proving their authenticity. The replies of Bower, though ingenious, are by no means satisfac- tory, and it is obvious that the whole transaction proves him to have been a man who little regarded principle, when he had the prospect of improving his fortune. The first volume of his History of the Popes was published in 1748; and he was soon after, by the interest of Lord Lyttleton, appointed librarian to Queen Caroline. It must be remarked that this irreproachable nobleman remained the friend of Bower, while all the rest of the world turned their backs upon him; and it must be confessed, that such a fact is calculated to stagger the faith of many even in the acuteness of Bishop Douglas. On the 4th of August, 1749, when he had just turned the grand climacteric, he married a niece of Bishop Nicholson, with a fortune of ^4000. In 1 75 1 he published his second volume, and in 1753 his third, which brought down the history to the death of Pope Stephen. This work, partly from the circumstances of the author, appears to have been received with great favour by the dissenters and more devout party of the church. Bower is alleged by his enemies to have kept up the interest of the publication, by stories of the danger in which he lay from the malig- nity of the Catholics, who, as he gave out, attempted on one occasion, to carry him off by water from Oreenwich. Lord Lyttleton, in April, 1754, ap- pointed him clerk of the buck warrants. It was in 1756 that his personal reputation received its first grand shock from the exposure of Dr. Douglas, who next year published a second tract, as fully condem- natory of his literary character. This latter produc- tion, entitled Bcnvcr and Tillemont compared, showed that a great part of his History of tlie Popes was nothing more than a translation of the French his- torian. He endeavoured to repel the attack in three laboured, pamphlets; but Dr. Douglas, in a reply, confirmed his original statements by unquestionable documents. Before the controversy ended, Bower had issued his fourth volume, and, in 1757, an abridgment of what was published appeared at Amsterdam. The fifth volume appeared in 1761, during which year he also published Authentic Memoirs concerning the Portuguese Inquisition, in a Series of Letters to a Friend, 8vo. The History of the Popes was finally completed in seven volumes; and on the 3d of September, 1766, the author died at his house in Bond Street, in the eighty-first year of his age. 1 He was buried in Mary-le-Bone churchyard, where there is a monument to him, bearing the fol- lowing inscription: — "A man exemplary for every social virtue. Justly esteemed by all who knew him for his strict honesty and integrity. A faithful friend and a sincere Chris- tian. "False witnesses rose up against him, and laid to 1 A letter written at the request of his widow to notify his death to his nephew in Scotland which I have seen . mentions that he hore a final illness of three weeks "in every way suit- able to the character of a good Christian." MARK BOYD. i6g his charge things that he knew not; they imagined wickedness in their hearts, and practised it: their delight is in lies: they conspired together, and laid their net to destroy him guiltless: the very abjects came together against him, they gaped upon him with their mouths, they sharpened their tongues like a serpent, working deceitfully; they compassed him ahout witli words of malice, and hated, and fought against him without a cause. "He endured their reproach with fortitude, suffer- ing wrongfully." "Unhappy vanity !"exclaims Samuel Ayscough, who preserves the inscription, "thus endeavouring, as it were, to carry on the deception with God, which he was convicted of at the bar of literary justice: how much better would it have been to let His name sink in oblivion than thus attempt to excite the pity of those only who are unacquainted with the history of his life; and, should it raise a desire in any person to inquire, it must turn their pity into contempt." In Bower we contemplate a man of considerable merit, in a literary point of view, debased by the pe- culiar circumstances in which he entered the world. A traitor to his own original profession of faith, he never could become a good subject to any other. His subsequent life was that of an adventurer and a hypocrite; and such at length was the dilemma in which he involved himself by his unworthy practices, that, for the purpose of extricating himself, he was reduced to the awful expedient of denying upon oath the genuineness of letters which were proved upon incontestable evidence to be his. Even, however, from the evil of such a life much good may be ex- tracted. The infamy in which his declining years were spent must inform even those to whom good is not good alone for its own sake, that the straight paths of candour and honour are the only ways to happiness, and that money or respect, momentarily enjoyed at the expense of either, can produce no permanent or effectual benefit. BOWER, Walter, an historical writer of the fifteenth century, was born at Haddington in 1385. At the age of eighteen he assumed the religious habit; and after finishing his philosophical and theological studies, visited Paris in order to study the laws. Having returned to his native country, he was unani- mously elected abbot of St. Colm in the year 1418. After the death of Fordoun, the historian (see that article), he was requested by Sir David Stewart of Rossyth to undertake the completion of the Scoti- chronkon, or Chronicles of Scotland, which had been brought up by the above writer only to the 23d chapter of the fifth book. In transcribing the part written by Fordoun, Bower inserted large interpola- tions. He completed the work in sixteen books, which brought the narrative to the death of James I. ; and he is said to have been much indebted for ma- terials to the previous labours of Fordoun. Bower, like Fordoun, wrote in a scholastic and barbarous Latin; and their work, though it must be considered as one of the great fountains of early Scottish historv, is characterized by lew of the essential qualities of that kind of composition. BOYD. Mark, an extraordinarv genius, who as- sumed the additional name of ALEXANDER, from a desire of assimilating himself to the illustrious hero of Macedon, was a younger son of Robert Bovd of Pinkell in Ayrshire, who was great-grandson to Robert Boyd, (heat Chamberlain of Scotland. Mark Boyd was born on the 13th of January, 1562. His father having died while he was a child, lie was educated under the care of his uncle, James Boyd of Trochrig, titular Archbishop of Glasgow. His head- strong temper showed itself in early youth in quarrels with his instructors, and before he had finished his academical course, he left the care of his friends, and endeavoured to obtain some notice at court. It affords a dreadful picture of the character of Boyd, that, even in a scene ruled by such a spirit as Stuart, Earl of Arran, he was found too violent: one duel and numberless broils in which he became engaged rendered it necessary that he should try his fortune elsewhere. By the advice of his friends, who seem to have given up all hope of his coming to any good in his own country, he travelled to France, in order to assume the profession of arms. While lingering at Paris he lost his little stock of money at dice. This seems to have revived better feelings in his breast. He began to study under various teachers at Paris; then went to the university of Orleans, and took lessons in civil law from Robertus; lastly, he removed to Bourges, where he was received with kindness by the celebrated Cujacius. This great civilian happen- ing to have a crazy fondness for the writings of the early Latin poets, Boyd gained his entire favour by writing a few poems in the barbarous style of Ennius. The plague breaking out at Bourges, he was obliged to flee to Lyons, whence he was driven by the same pestilence into Italy. After spending some time in this country, he returned to France, and is supposed to have there acted for some time as private tutor to a young gentleman named Dauconet. In 15S7 com- menced the famous wars of the League. Boyd, though a Protestant, or afterwards professing to be so, joined with the Catholic party, in company with his pupil, and for some time led the life of a soldier of fortune. His share in the mishaps of war con- sisted of a wound in the ankle. In 15SS, the Ger- mans and Swiss being driven out of France, the campaign terminated, and Boyd retired to Toulouse, where he recommenced the study of civil law. His studies were here interrupted by a popular insurrec- tion in favour of the Catholic interest, but in which he took no part. Having fallen under some suspi- cion, probably on account of his country, he was seized by the insurgents, and thrown into prison. By the intercession of some of his learned friends he was relieved from this peril, and permitted to make his escape to Bordeaux. He has left a most ani- mated account of the insurrection, from which it may be gathered that the expedients assumed in more recent periods of French history for protecting cities by barricades, chains, and other devices, were equally familiar in the reign of Henry the Great. For several years Boyd lived a parti-coloured life, alternating between study and war. He had a sincere passion for arms, and entertained a notion that to live en- tirely without the knowledge and practice of military affairs was only to be half a man. It is to lie re- gretted that his exertions as a soldier were entirely on the side adverse to his own and his country's faith — a fact which proves how little he was actuated by principle. In the midst of all the broils ol the League, he had advanced considerably in the ['re- paration of a series of lectures on the civil la" ; I ut he never found an opportunity of delivering them. He also composed a considerable number ol Latin poems, which were published in one volume at Antwerp, in 1592. Having now turne i homewards, he endeavoured in thi> w< !'K the favourable attention of James VI.. by a very- flattering dedication. But il m to have had any effect. He does not apj ear to have n turned to his native country for some year- alter th;> | eriod. In 1505. when his 'elder L t'hei .he was -till i in France. Returning soon after, he i= said to have i;o ROBERT BOYD. undertaken the duty of travelling preceptor to John, Earl of Cassillis; and when his task was accomplished, he returned once more. Pie died of a slow fever, April loth, 1601, and was buried in the church of Daily. Mark Alexander Boyd left several compositions behind him, of which a few have been published. The most admired are his EpistoLc Heroidum, and his /Ivmiii, which are inserted in the Deliciie Poet- arum Scotorum, published at Amsterdam, in 1637. His stvle in Latin poetry is shown by Lord Hailes to be far from correct, and his ideas are often impure and coarse. Vet when regarded as the effusions of a soaring genius, which seems to have looked upon every ordinary walk of human exertion as beneath it, we may admire the general excellence, while we overlook mean defects. "The Tears of Venus on the Death of Adonis," which lias been often extracted from his EpistoLc, is sometimes regarded as a beautiful specimen of Latin versification, and in impassioned feeling almost rivalling Pope's Eloise. An exact list of the remainder of his compositions, which still lie in manuscript in the Advocates' Library, is given in his life by Lord Hailes, which was one of the few tentamina contributed by that great antiquary towards a Scottish Biographical Dictionary. Lord Hailes represents the vanity of Boyd as having been very great; but it is obvious that he could offer as high incense to others as to himself. He has the har- dihood to compliment the peaceful James VI. as superior to Pallas or Mars: in another place, he speaks of that monarch as having distinguished him- self at battles and sieges. It is well known that neither the praise nor the facts were true; and we can only account for such inordinate flattery, by supposing, what there is really much reason to believe, that panegyric in those days was a matter of course, and not expected to contain any truth, or even rraiscmblance. This theory receives some e tuntenance from a circumstance mentioned by Lord Hailes. The dedication, it seems, in which King James was spoken of as a hardy warrior, was ori- ginally written for a real warrior; but the name being afterward-, changed, it was not thought necessary to alter the praise; and so the Scottish Solomon, who is said to have shrunk from the very sight of cold iron, stands forth as a second Agamemnon. BOYD, Robert, of Trochrig, an eminent divine of ;he seventeenth century, was born at Glasgow in 157S. He was the son of James Boyd, "tulchan- ishop" of Glasgow, and Margaret, daughter of James Chalmers of Gaitgirth, chief of that name. On the deatli of his father, which happened when he was only three years oh!, his mother retired to the family residence in Ayrshire, and Boyd, along with Thomas, his younger brother, was in due time sent to the grammar-school of the county town. From thence he was removed to the university of L linburgh, where he studied philosophy under Mr. Charles Ferme (or Fairholm), one of the regents, and afterwards divinity under the celebrated Robert Kollock. In compliance with the custom of the times, he then went abroad for the purpose of pursuing his studies, and France was destined to be the first sphere of his usefulness. He taught various departments of literature in the schools of Tours and Montauban, at the first of which places he became acquainted with the famous I)r. Rivet. In 1604 he was ordained pastor of the church at Verteuil, and in 1606 he was appointed one of the professors in the university of Saumur, which had been founded in 1593 by the amiable Philip de Mornay, better known by the title of Du Plessis. Boyd also dis- charged the duties of a pastor in the church at the same town, and, soon after, became professor of divinity. As he had now the intention of remaining for some years abroad, he bethought himself of enter- ing into the married state, and having met with "an honest virgin of the family of Malivem," says Wod- row, "he sought her parents for their consent, who, having received a satisfactory testimonial of the nobility of his birth, and the competency of his estate, they easily yielded; and so he took her to wife, with the good liking of the church and the uni- versity, who hoped that by this means he would be fixed among them, so as never to entertain thoughts of returning to Scotland to settle there." But in this they were soon disappointed, for King James having heard through several noblemen, relations of Mr. Boyd, of his worth and talents, offered him the principalship of the university of Glasgow. The duties of principal in that college were, by the charter of this monarch, not confined even to those connected with that institution. He was re- quired to teach theology on one day, and Hebrew and Syriac the next, alternately; but this was not all. The temporalities of the rectory and vicarage of Govan had been annexed to it, under the condi- tion that the principal should preach on Sunday in the church of that parish. Under these circumstances, it could not be expected that Mr. Boyd could have much leisure to premeditate his lectures. Wodrow informs us that he did not read them, "but uttered all in a continued discourse, without any hesitation, and with as much ease and freedom of speech as the most eloquent divine is wont to deliver his sermons in his mother tongue." It will be remembered that the prelections were then delivered in Latin, and Principal Baillie, who studied under Mr. Boyd, mentions that, at a distance of thirty years, the tears, the solemn vows, and the ardour of the desires produced by the principal's Latin prayers, were still fresh in his memory. 1 From the assimilation which was then rapidly taking place to the Episcopalian form of church government, Mr. Boyd felt his situation peculiarly unpleasant. He could not acquiesce in the deci- sions of the Perth Assembly, and it could not be expected that he would be allowed to retain his office under any other condition than that of com- pliance. He therefore preferred voluntarily resign- ing his office, and retiring to his country residence. Soon after this period he was appointed principal of the university of Edinburgh, and one of the ministers of that city; but there he was not long allowed to remain. His majesty insisted upon his compliance with the Perth articles, and an intima- tion to -that effect having been made to him, he refused, and, to use the quaint expression of the historian, "swa took his leave of them." He was now ordered to confine himself within the bounds of Carrick. His last appointment was to Paisley, but a quarrel soon occurred with the widow of the Earl of Abercorn, who had lately turned Papist, and this was a source of new distress to him. Naturally of a weakly constitution, and worn down by a series of misfortunes, he now laboured under a complication of diseases, which led to his death at Edinburgh, whither he had gone to consult the physicians, on the 5th of January, 1627, in the 49th year of his age. < ) f his works, few of which are printed, the largest and best known is his Pralectiones in Epistolam ad Ephrsios. From the circumstances which occurred in the latter part of his life, he was prevented getting it printed as he intended. After his death a copy DediiPralectioncs in J'.pist. adEphcs. Prccfat, adLci torcm. ZACIIARY BOYD. 171 of the M.S. was sent to Dr. Rivet, who agreed with Chouet of Geneva for the printing, but when return- ing to that place with the MS. in his possession, the ship was taken by the Dunkirkers, and the work was seized by sonic Jesuits, who would part with it "nee prece nee pretio." Fortunately the original still remained, and it was, after many delays, printed '• Impensis Societatis Stationariorum," in 1652, folio. To the work is prefixed a memoir of the author, by Dr. Rivet; but as their acquaintance did not com- mence till 159S or 1599, there are several errors in his account of the earlier part of Boyd's life, all of which Wodrow has with great industry and accuracy c urected. The only other prose work of Mr. Boyd ever published, is his Monita de Filii sui Primogeniti Institution*, ex Authoris MSS. Autographis per R{obertum) S(ibbald), M.D., edita, 8vo, 1701. The style of this work, according to Wodrow, is pure, the system perspicuous; ami prudence, observation, and piety appear throughout. Besides these, the Hecatomhe ad Christum, the ode to Dr. Sibbald, and the laudatory poem on King James, are in print. The two first are printed in the Deliciie Poetarum Scotorum. The Hecatombe has been reprinted at Edinburgh in 1 701, and subsequently in the Poetarum Scotorum Musa Sacrce. The verses to King James have been printed in Adamson's Muses' Welcome; and it is remarkable that it seems to have been altogether overlooked by Wodrow. All these poems justify the opinion that, had Boyd devoted more of his attention to the composition of Latin poetry, he might have excelled in that elegant accomplishment. In the time of Wodrow several MSS. still re- mained in the possession of the family of Trochrig, consisting of Sermons in English and French, his Philotheca, a kind of obituary, extracts from which hive lately been printed in the second part of the Miscellany of the Bannatyne Club. I lis life has been written at great length by the venerable historian of the sufferings of the Scottish Church, already frequently quoted. Those who wish to know more of this learned man than the limits of our work will permit, are referred to the very interesting series of the Wodrow biographies in the library of the uni- versity of Glasgow — article "Boyd." BOYD, ZACHARY, an eminent divine and religious writer of the seventeenth century, was born before the year 1590, and was descended from the family of the Boyds of Pinkell, in Carrick (Ayrshire). He was cousin to Mr. Andrew Boyd, Bishop of Argyle, and Mr. Robert Boyd of Trochrig, the subject of the preceding memoir. lie received the rudiments ot his education at the school of Kilmarnock, and passed through an academical course in the college of Glasgow. About the year 1607 he had finished his studies in his native country. He then went abroad, and studied at the college of Saumur in France, under his relation Robert Boyd. lie was appointed a regent in this university, in 161 1, and is said to have been offered the principalship, which he decline I. According to his own statement, he spent sixteen years in France, during four of which h : v. is a preacher of the gospel. In consequence of the persecution of the Protestants he was obliged, in 162 1. to return to his native country. He re- lates, i;i one of his sermons, the following anecdote of the voyage: — "In the time of the French perse- cution I came by >ea to Flanders, and as I was sailing from Flanders to Scotland a fearful tempest arose, which made our mariners reele to and fro, and, stagger like drunken men. In the meantime, there was a Scots Papist who lay near nice. While the ship gave a great shake, I observed the man, and after the Lord had sent a calme, I said to him, 'Sir, now ye see the weaknesse of your religion; as long as yee are in prosperities yee cry to this sainct and that sainct: in our great danger I heard yee cry often, Lord, Lord; but not a word yee spake of our Lady.'" On his reaching Scotland, he further informs us that he "remained a space a private man at Edinburgh, with Doctor Sibbald, the glory and honour of all the physitians of our land." After- wards he lived successively under the protection of Sir William Scott of Flie, and of the Marquis of Hamilton and his lady at Kinneil; it being then the fashion for pious persons of quality in Scotland to retain one clergyman at least, as a member of the r household. In 1623 he wa> appointed minister of the large district in the suburbs of Glasgow, styled the Barony parish, for which the crypts beneath the cathedral church then served as a place of worship; a scene well fitted by its sepulchral gloom to add to the impressiveness of his Calvinistic eloquence. In this charge he continued all the remainder of his life. In the years 1634-35 and 45 he filled the office of rector of the university of Glasgow — an office which appears from its constituency to have then been very honourable. In 1629 Mr. Zachary — to use the common mode of designating a clergyman in that age — published his principal prose work, " 7'he Fast Battell of the Soule in Death; whereby are shown the diverse skirmishes that are between the soule of man on his death-bed, and the enemies of our salvation, care- fully digested for the comfort of the sicke, by «kc. Printed at Edinburgh for the heires of Andro Hart." This is one of the few pious works, not of a contro- versial nature, produced by the Scottish church before a very recent period; and it is by no means the meanest in the list. It is of a dramatic, or, at least, a conversational form ; and the dramatis persona:, such as, "Pastour, Sicke Man, Spirituall Friend, Carnal Friend, Sathan, Michael," &c, sus- tain their parts with such spirit as to show, in con- nection with his other works of the like nature, that he might have excelled in a department of profane literature, for which, no doubt, he entertained the greatest horror, namely, writing for the stage. 'I he first volume of the work is dedicated, in an English address, to King Charles I., and then in a French one, to his consort Henrietta Maria. It says much for the dexterity of Mr. Zachary, that he inscribes a religious work to a Catholic princess, without any painful reference to her own unpopular faith. He dedicates the second volume to the electress pala- tine, daughter of fames VI.. and adds a short piece, which he styles her Lamentations for the a':.. her Sou, who was drowned while crossing in a ferry- boat to Amsterdam. The extravagant grief which he describes in this little work is highly ami It strikes him that the electress must have conceived a violent antipathy to water, in consequence of the mode of her son's death, and he therefore makes her conclude her lamentations in the following strai: "O cursed waters! O waters of Marah, are yee to me! O element which 1 - - be most detestable to my soule, / . ■ •■• ' "" ■ ' ' " ' mine hands "u-ith thee, but I shall rem m 'er : ; :.' : :■. hast done to my best-behn /. >/-.v. ;' f my soul! I shall for t-cr be a friend t< : : ' . : '■■ '■ ■" thy greatest foe. Away rivers! away - .-.-! I see you no more, li yee were .-• my dear brother Charles, prince •' e I seas, shoul 1 >courge you with hi- r y.il -::.; •: h ti •Ml - ZACHARY EOYD. ling tempests, O wilfull waves, O swelling surges, O wicked waters, O dooleful deepes, O peartest pooles, O botchful butcher boates, was there no mercy among you for such an hopefull prince? O that 1 could refraine from teares, and that because they are salt like yourselves'." 1 &C. Childish as this language is in spirit, it is perhaps in as good taste as most of the elegies produced either by this or by a later age. Mr. Zachary appears to have been naturally a high loyalist. In 1633, when Charles I. visited his native dominions to go through the ceremony of his coronation, Mr. Zachary met him, the day after that solemnity, in the porch of Holyrood Palace, and addressed him in a Latin oration, couched in the most exalted strains of panegyric and affection. He afterwards testified this feeling under circum- stances more apt to test its sincerity. When the attempt to impose the Episcopal mode of worship upon Scotland caused the majority of the people to unite in a covenant for the purpose of maintaining the former system, all who were connected with Glasgow College, together with Mr. Zachary, set themselves against the document, because, although well meant and urgently necessary, it wasfeared that it might become a stumbling-block in the subsequent proceedings of the country. These divines resolved rather to yield a little to the wishes of their sovereign, than fly into open rebellion against him. Mr. Robert Baillie paid them a visit to induce them to subscribe the covenant, but was not successful; "we left them," says he, '"resolved to celebrate the com- munion on Pascli in the High Church, kneeling." This must have been about a month after the sub- scription of the covenant had commenced. Soon afterwards, most of these recusants, including Mr. Zachary, found it necessary to conform to the national movement. Baillie says, in a subsequent letter: "At our townsmen's desire, Mr. Andrew Cant and Mr. J. Rutherford were sent by the nobles to preach in the High Kirk, and receive the oaths of that people to the covenant. Lord Eglintoune was appointed to be a witness there. With many a sigh and tear, by all that people the oath was made. Provost, bailies, council, all except three men, held up their hands; Mr. Zacharias, and Mr. John Bell, younger, has put to their hands. The college, it is thought, will subscribe, and almost all who refused before." Though Boyd was henceforth a faithful adherent of this famous bond, he did not take the same active share with some of his brethren in the military pro- ceedings by which it was supported. While Baillie and others followed the army, "as the fashion was, with a sword and pair of Dutch pistols at their saddles," 1 he remained at home in the peaceful exer- cise of his calling, and was content to sympathize in their successes by hearsay. He celebrated the fight at Ncwburnford, August 2X, 1640, by which the Scottish covenanting army gained possession of New- castle, in a poem of sixteen 8vo pages, which is written, however, in such a homely style of versifica- tion, that we would suppose it to be among the very earliest of his poetical efforts. It opens with a panegyric on the victorious Leslie, and then proceeds to describe the battle. "The Scots cannons powder an'! hall did spew, Which with terror the Cantcrburians slew. T!als rushed at random, which most fearfully Menaced to break the portals of the sky. In this conflict, which was both sowre and surly, Iiones, blood, and brnines went in a hurly-burly. Ail u as made Iwdgc-podgc," fee. The pistol-bullets were almost as bad as the cannon- balls. They — in squadrons came, like fire and thunder, 1 Baillie's Letters, i. 174. Men's hearts and heads both for to pierce and plunder; Their errand was (when it was understood); To bathe men's bosoms in a scarlet flood." At last comes the wail for the fallen — " In this conflict, which was a great pitie, We lost the son of Sir Patrick Makgie." In 1643 he published a more useful work in his Crosses, Comforts, and Connects, needfull to be con- sidered and carefully to be laid up in the Hearts of the Godly, in these Boysterous Broiles, and Bloody limes. We also find from the titles of many of his manuscript discourses, that, with a diligent and affectionate zeal for the spiritual edification of the people under his charge, he had improved the remarkable events of the time as they successively occurred. That the reluctance of Mr. Zachary to join the Covenanters did not arise from timidity of nature, seems to be proved by an incident which occurred at a later period of his life. After the death of Charles I. it is well known that the Scottish Presby- terians made a gallant effort to sustain the royal authority against the triumphant party of Indepen- dents. They invited home the son of the late king, and rendered him at least the limited monarch of Scotland. Cromwell, having crossed the Tweed with an army, overthrew the Scottish forces at Dunbar, September 3, 1650; and gained possession of the southern portion of the country. Clasgow was, of course, exposed to a visit from this unscrupu- lous adversary. "Cromwell," says Baillie, "with the whole body of his army, comes peaceably to Glasgow. The magistrates and ministers all fled away; 1 got to the Isle of Cumray, with my Lady Montgomery, but left all my family and goods to Cromwell's courtesy, which indeed was great, for he took such measures with the soldiers, that they did less dis- pleasure at Clasgow than if they had been at London, though Air. Zachary Boyd railed on them all to their very face in the High Church." This was on the 13th of October, and we learn from a manuscript note upon the preacher's own Bible, that the chapter which he expounded on this occasion was Dan. viii. In this is detailed the vision of the ram with two horns, which is at first powerful, but at length over- come and trampled down by a he-goat; being an allegory of the destruction of the kings of Media and Persia by Alexander of Maccdon. It is evident that Mr. Zachary endeavoured to extend the parable to existing circumstances, and of course made out Cromwell to be the he-goat. The preacher further chose for a text the following passage in the Psalms: — "But I as a deaf man heard not; and I was as a dumb man that openeth not his mouth. Thus I was as a man that heareth not, and in whose mouth are no reproofs. For in thee, () Lord, do I hope: thou wilt hear, () Lord my God" (Ps. xxxviii. 13-15). This sermon was probably by no means faithful to its text, for certainly Mr. Zachary was not the man to keep a mouth clear of reproofs when he saw occa- sion for blame. The exposition, at least, was so full of bitter allusions to the sectarian general, that one of his officers is reported to have whispered info his ear for permission "to pistol the scoundrel." Crom- well had more humanity and good sense than to accede to such a request. "No, no," said he; "we will manage him in another way." He asked Mr. Zachary to dine with him, and gained his re- spect by the fervour of the devotions in which he spent the evening. It is said that they did not ZACHARY BOYD. "73 finish their mutual exercise till three in the morn- Mr. Zachary did not long survive this incident. He died about the end of the year 1653, or the beginning of 1654, when the famous Mr. Donald Cargill was appointed his successor. "In the con- scientious discharge of his duty as a preacher of God's word, which he had at the same time exercised with humility, he seems, whether in danger or out of it, to have been animated with a heroic firmness. In a mind such as his, so richly stored with the noble examples furnished by sacred history, and with such a deep sense of the responsibility attached to his office, we are prepared to expect the same consis- tency of principle, and decision of conduct in ad- monishing men, even of the most exalted rank. . . We have every reason to suppose that the tenor of his conduct in life became the high office of which he made profession. From the sternness with which he censures manners and customs prevalent in society, the conforming to many of which could incur no moral guilt, it is to be presumed that he was of the most rigid and austere class of divines. We are ignorant of any of the circumstances attend- ing his last moments, a time peculiarly interesting in the life of every man; but from what we know of him, we may venture to say, without the hazard of an erroneous conclusion, that his state of mind at the trying hour was that of a firm and cheerful ex- pectation in the belief in the great doctrines of Chris- tianity which he had so earnestly inculcated, both from the pulpit and the press, with the additional comfort and support of a long and laborious life in his Master's service. About twenty-five years before his death, lie was so near the verge of the grave, that his friends had made the necessary preparation for his winding-sheet, which he afterwards found among his books. He seems to have recovered from the disease with a renewed determination to employ the remainder of his life in the cause to which he had been previously devoted: he pursued perseveringly to near its termination this happy course, and just lived to complete an extensive manuscript work, bearing for its title The Notable Places of the Scrip- ture Expounded, at the end of which he adds, in a tremulous and indistinct handwriting, "Heere the author was neere his end, and was able to do no more, March 3d, 1653."- Mr. Zachary had been twice married, first to Elizabeth Fleming, of whom no memorial is pre- served, and secondly, to Margaret Mure, third daughter of William Mure of Glanderston (near Neilston, Renfrewshire). By neither of his wives had he any offspring. The second wife, surviving him, marrie 1 for her second husband the celebrated Dur- ham, author of the Commentary on the Revelation — to whom, it would appear, she had betrayed some partiality even in her first husband's lifetime. There is a traditional anecdote, that, when Mr. Zachary was dictating his last will, his spouse made one modest request, namely, that he would bequeath something to Mr. Durham. lie answered, with a sarcastic reference to herself, "I'll lea' him what I canna keep frae him." He seems to have possessed 1 The accurate edit m and facts which we have taken the liberty to borrow from Mr. Neil, 1 form an able and judicious defence of the memory of this dis- tinguished man. As some curiosity, however, may reasonably be entertained respecting compositions which excited so much vulgar and ridiculous mis- representation, we shall make no apology for intro- ducing some specimens of Mr. Boyd's poetry — both of that kind which seems to have been dictated when his I'cga-us was careering through "the highest heaven of invention," and of that other sort which would appear to have been conceived while the sacred charger was cantering upon the mean soil of this nether world, which it sometimes did, I must confess, very much after the manner of the most ordinary beast of burden. The following "Morning Hymn for Christ," selected from his work entitled The En '•. Academic, will scarcely fail to convey a respectful impression of the writer:— "O Dayspring fY";n nn high, < r: ;;.t; Clear tir-.t our morning 4. v. And after ;ht. "Of lights thou art the Light, I >f ru Thy beams 1 - I right, I :.r mgh all the ivi >rl ! they run. " fh ■ day thou ha I Thou wilt it clearer make; We hope to see this Sun 1 1 : _-'i in our z idiak. 1 Li fr cf Zachary I',n\,{. prefixed to the new edition of his Last Bat tell 0/ ' tlu Sonic. "O make thy morning dew To fall without all cease; Do thou such favour show As unto Gideon's fleece. "O do thou never cease To make that dew to fall — The dew of grace and peace, And joys celestial. "This morning we do call Upon thy name divine, That thou among us all Cause thine Aurora shine. " Let shadows all decline, And wholly pass away, That light which is divine, May bring to us our day: "A day to shine for aye, A day that is most bright, A day that never may He followed with a night. "O, of all lights the light, The Light that is most true, Now banish thou our night, And still our light renew. " Thy face now to us show O Son of God most dear; O Morning-star, most true, Make thou our darkness clear. "Nothing at all is here, That with thee may compare; O unto us draw near, And us thy children spare! "Thy mercies they are rare, If they were understood; Wrath due to us thou bare, And for us shed thy blood. "Like beasts they are most rude, Whom reason cannot move — Thou most perfytely good, Entirely for to love. "Us make mind things above, Even things that most excel; Of thine untainted love, Give us the sacred seal. "O that we light could see That shineth in thy face! So at the last should we From glory go to grace. "Within thy sacred place Is only true content, When God's seen face to face, Above the firmament. "0 that our hours were spent Among the sons of men, To praise the Omnipotent, Amen, yea, and Amen!" The ludicrous passages are not many in number. The following is one which Pennant first presented to the world; being the soliloquy of Jonah within the whale's belly ; taken from The Flowers of Zion: — "Here apprehended I in prison ly: What goods will ransom my captivity? What house is this, where's neither coal nor candle, Where I nothing but guts of fishes handle'.' I and my table are both here within. Where day ncere dawned, where sunne did never shine; The like of this on earth man never saw, A living man within a monster's maw. I'uried under mountains which are high and steep, Plunged under waters hundreth fathoms dee]). Not so was Noah in his house of tree, for through a window he the light did see; Hee sailed above the highest waves; -a wonder, I and my boat are all the waters under; Hee in his ark might goo and also come, lint 1 sit still in such a straitened roome As is most uncouth, head and feet together, Among such grease as would a thousand smother. I find no way now for my shrinking hence, I'.ut heere to lie and die for mine offence. Eight prisoners were in Noah's hulk together, Comfortable they were, each one to other; In all the earth like unto nice is none, Far from all living, I heere lye alone, Where I entombed in melancholy sink, Choakt, suffocat," Kx. SIR THOMAS MACDOUGALL BRISBANE. 175 And it is strange that, immediately after this gro- tesque description of his situation, Pegasus again ascends, and Jonah begins a prayer to God, conceived in a fine strain of devotion. BRISBANE, General Sir Thomas MAC- DOUGALL, Bart., G.C.B., &c. This gallant soldier and talented astronomer was born, we believe, in 1773. His ancestors were the Brisbanes of Bishopton, a family of note in their day, whose possessions extended in the fourteenth century from Erskine Ferry, on the Clvde, to Largs; and one of them, William Brisbane, according to Lord Hailes, held in 1332 the high office of chancellor of the kingdom of Scotland. In 1789, Sir Thomas entered the army with the rank of ensign, in the 38th infantry, then stationed in Ireland, and on joining his regiment he was so fortunate as to form an intimate acquaintance with the future Duke of Wellington, at that time unknown to fame, and a young lieutenant in a regiment of cavalry. When the war broke out in 1793, Sir Thomas raised an independent company in Glasgow, with which he joined the 53d at Edinburgh, with the rank of captain; and as this regiment formed part of the army of the Uuke of York, Sir Thomas shared in all the battles, reverses, and hardships of that distinguished campaign. This was especially the case at the engagement of Lille, where he was not only himself severely wounded, but had twenty- two men killed and wounded out of the thirty-three composing his company. In the spring of 1795 Sir Thomas Brisbane re- turned to England with his regiment, in which he had obtained a majority by purchase, and embarked in the expedition to the West Indies under Sir Ralph Abercrombie. Among the other gallant exploits of the young major in the West India campaign of 1796, one of them is particularly commemorated. Being ordered to attack a fort which was generally supposed to be all but impregnable, he was met on his march bv a brother officer, who, on learning the nature of his expedition, bewailed its rashness, and repre- sented that the fort could not be taken. " It can be taken," replied the other hopefully; " for I have the order in my pocket." However veterans might smile at this confidence and the cause that inspired it, Sir Thomas was successful, and the fort was captured. He was also at the reduction of St. Lucia, the siege of Morne- Fortune, the encounters of Chalcot, Castries, and Vigie; and in the reduc- tion of the island of St. Vincent, and during the whole of the Caribean warfare. His health having suffered from the West India climate, the friends of Sir Thomas purchased for him the colonelcy of the 69th regiment, which had just returned from the West Indies; but on arriving in England, in 1799, he found that the regiment had been unexpectedly sent back to its old quarters. Having recruited his health as hastily as he could, he returned to Jamaica; and, taught by his own ex- perience, he paid there such attention to the health of his men, that on the return of the regiment to England in 1S02, only one invalid was left behind. On the regiment being ordered to India, Sir Thomas, in consequence of a severe liver complaint, endeavoured to obtain an exchange into the guards or the cavalry, but being unable to effect it, he was obliged for a time to retire upon half-pay. In 1S10 he was appointed assistant adjutant-general to the staff at Canterbury, until he was promoted to the command of a brigade under the Luke of \Y, |. lington, whom he joined at Coimbra in 1S12. He accompanied the army during the whole of the event- ful war in the Peninsula, and as his brigade formed a part of Picton's fighting division, Sir Thomas found no lack of military service or personal danger during the whole campaign. His gallant services, however, in its memorable engagements, were crowned with clasps of distinction and parliamentary thanks, and when the war was removed into Prance, he was present at the battles of Orthesand Toulouse. After the abdication of Napoleon, Sir Thomas was sent to North America, and at the unfortunate affair on Lake Champignon he was ordered to cover the retreat, which he effectually accomplished without loss, by the destruction of the bridge across the Dead Creek. The value of his services in this disastrous campaign in North America was attested by the grand cross of the Bath, which was conferred upon him by government. The escape of Napoleon from Elba occasioned the recall of Sir Thomas and his brigade from America, and he arrived off the coast of I- ranee with twelve regiments, comprising about 10,000 men; but they were too late to participate in the glories of Waterloo. The appearance of such a powerful con- tingent, on being reviewed before the Duke of Wel- lington, drew from him the exclamation, "Had I had these regiments at Waterloo, I should not have wanted the Prussians." Sir Thomas remained in France with the army of occupation until 1818, and his scientific attainments being appreciated, he was during this sojourn in Paris unanimously elected a corresponding member of the Institute of France. On his return, he in 1S19 married Anna Maria, only daughter of Sir Henry Hay Macdougall, the repre- sentative of a very ancient Scottish family, on whose death he succeeded, in right of his wife, to valuable estates, and assumed the name of Macdougall pre- fixed to his own surname. In 1S20 lie was ap- pointed to the staff in Ireland, where he commanded the Munster district until the following year, when, by the recommendation of the Duke of Wellington, he was appointed governor of New South Wales. The period of his soldier-life was ended, but a new and more difficult one had commenced. He was now the governor of a penal settlement contain- ing a population of about 38,000 souls bond and free, but in which the convict population rather lire- dominated, and where, from the nature of such a people, all the vices of an impaired state of society were to be found, with few of its redeeming virtues. To such materials our military officers were ac- customed, where their regiments were chiefly com- posed of the dissolutely idle and the emptyings cf our prisons; and government, that saw how >ueh un- promising materials were manufactured into brave, obedient, and orderly soldiers, hoped for a similar result in their selection of military governors to rule the convict colony. But they forgot that this could only be accomplished by placing the populati n under martial law, and in vesting the governor with an arbitrary and irresponsible military power : reward and punish. The bond ami free, I ways at war with each other, were at one in hat;:: ; andopposing theirruler; and from the J/..\ ■;:..■- ( 'har: ism which was permitted to New South \\ ah governors were charged with all those evils ' they had neither the mean- m r authority : i\ : -. It was thus that Sir Thomas Brisl f • Aus- tralia at the close of 1S21, when he er.tcn i 1 n i i> antipodean government: everything wa.- >o reve both physically and mentally, that t he must have st >od ;:: ministration wa< c . '•'■ a- ::.e*. it- able, and he of New South Wales g.ver: - wh vsive'.y been worried, calumniated, a:;: weaned cut. 1" i 7 6 JAMES BROWN JOHN BROWN. was much, however, that he was, upon the whole, the least unpopular of all who had held the office, and that his departure from the colony was witnessed with regret. Who at that time would have con- jectured, or even have dreamed, that only forty years after the population of Australia would be increased more than fiftyfold, and that it would be one of the wealthiest, as well as most populous, of all colonies? In spite of these great impediments, the adminis- tration of Sir Thomas Brisbane during the four years of his rule in New South Wales was neither inert nor unproductive; and of his labours as governor the following brief summary is given by his biographer: — '• He improved the condition of the convicts, substi- tuted useful labour for the treadmill, and above all gave them the blessing of hope by offering tickets of leave for good conduct. At his own expense he introduced into the colony good breeds of horse-, as well as the cultivation of the vine, the sugar-cane, cotton, and tobacco." These industrial arts and im- provements were what the colony especially needed, and as much perhaps as his limited commission could overtake in a society so constituted. But an act by which he especially distinguished himself will endear him to every lover of science. Availing himself of the bright pure sky of Australia to prosecute his favourite study of astronomy, he established a large observatory at his residence at Paramatta, which was afterwards continued by government; and there, by his careful observations, fixed the positions of, and catalogued, 73S5 stars hitherto scarcely known to astronomers. For this splendid work, The Brisbane Catalogue of Stars, he was honoured with the Copley medal from the Royal Society, a reward which he preferred to all his military distinctions. The degree of D.C.L. was also conferred upon him by the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. Sir Thomas Brisbane returned from Australia at the close of 1S25, and established his residence chiefly at Makerstoun, the property of Lady Brisbane. Here he established both an astronomical and a magnetic observatory, and with the aid of a staff of verv able observers, he compiled three large volumes of observations, which were published in the Trans- actions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Military honours still continued to flow upon him. In 1826 government conferred upon him the colonelcy of the 34th regiment; lie was offered the command of the troops in Canada, and soon afterwards the chief command in India; but from the counsels of his me lical advisers he was induced to decline both of these honourable appointments. In 1S35 he was created a baronet; in 1S37 he received the Grand Cr i-> of the order of the Hath; and in 1S41 he was 1 general in the army. On the death of Sir Walter Scott he was elected president of the Royal S 1 ty, Edinburgh. He also founded two gold medals as rewards for scientific merit -one for the Royal Society, and the other for the Society of Arts. After a long life spent in distinction and usefulness, t!ie first part as a gallant soldier, and the last as a man of science, Sir Thomas Macdougall Brisbane died at Brisbane House, on January 31, 1S60, at the age of eighty-seven; and as he left no children he was succeeded by his nephew, the son of Admiral Brisbane. BROWN, JAMES, a traveller and scholar of some eminence, was the son of James Brown, MI>., who published a translation of two Orations of Isocrates, without his name, and wdio died in 1733. The subject of this article was born at Kelso, Slay 23, 1709. and was educated at Westminster school, where he made great proficiency in the Latin and Greek classics. In the year 1722, when less than fourteen years of age, he accompanied his father to Constantinople, where, having naturally an aptitude for the acquisition of languages, he made himself a pro- ficient in Turkish, modern Greek, and Italian. On his return in 1725 he added the Spanish to the other languages which he had already mastered. About 1732 he was the means of commencing the publication of the London Directory, a work of vast utility in the mercantile world, and which has since been imitated in almost every considerable town in the empire. After having laid the foundation of this undertaking, he transferred his interest in it to Mr. Henry Kent, a printer in Finch Lane, Cornhill, who carried it on for many years, and eventually, through its means, acquired a fortune and an estate. In 1741 Brown entered into an engagement with twenty-four of the principal merchants in London, to act as their chief agent in carrying on a trade, through Russia, with Persia. Having travelled to that country by the Wolga and the Caspian Sea, he established a factory at Reshd, where he continued nearly four years. During this time he travelled in state to the camp of the famous Kouli Khan, with a letter which had been transmitted to him by George II. for that monarch. He also rendered himself such a pro- ficient in the Persic language, as to be able, on his return, to compile a copious dictionary and grammar, with many curious specimens of Persic literature, which, however, was never published. A sense of the dangerous situation of the settlement, and his dissatisfaction with some of his employers, were the causes of his return; and his remonstrances on these subjects were speedily found to be just, by the factory being plundered of property to the amount of ,£80,000, and a period being put to the Persian trade. From his return in 1746 to his death, which took place in his house at Stoke-Newington, Novem- ber 30, 1788, he appears to have lived in retirement upon his fortune. In the obituary of the Gentleman's Magazine he is characterized as a person of strict integrity, unaffected piety, and exalted but unosten- tatious benevolence. BROWN, John, author of the Self- Interpreting Bible, and many popular religious works, was born in the year 1722 at Carpow, a village in the parish of Abernethy and county of Perth. In consequence of the circumstances of his parents, he was able to spend but a very limited time at school in acquiring the elements of reading, writing, and arithmetic. "One month," he has himself told us, "without his parents' allowance, he bestowed upon Latin." His thirst for knowledge was intense, and excited him, even at this early period, to extraoidinary diligence in all departments of study, but particularly to religious culture. About the eleventh year of his age he was deprived by death of his father, and soon after of his mother, and was himself reduced, by four successive attacks of fever, to a state which made it probable that he was about speedily to join his parents in the grave. But having recovered from this illness, he had the good fortune to find a friend and protector in John Ogilvie, a shepherd venerable for age and eminent for piety, yet so destitute of education as to be unable even to read. To supply his own deficiency, Ogilvie. was glad to engage young Brown to assist him intending his flock, and read to him during the intervals of his occupation. To screen themselves from the storm and the heat, they built a little lodge among the hills, and to this their mountain tabernacle (long after pointed out under this name by the peasants) they frequently repaired to celebrate their pastoral devotions. JOHN BROWN. i"7 Ogilvie having soon retired from his occupation as a shepherd, and settled in the town of Abernethy, young Brown entered the service of a neighbouring farmer, who maintained a more numerous establish- ment than his former friend. This step he laments as having been followed by a sensible decline of religious attainments, and a general lukewarmness in religious duty, although his external character was remarkably distinguished by many virtues, and especially by the rare and truly Christian grace of meekness. In the year 1733 four ministers of the Church of Scotland, among whom was Mr. Moncrieff of Abernethy, declared a secession from its judica- tures, alleging as their reasons for taking this step the following list of grievances: — "The sufferance of error without adequate censure; the infringement of the rights of the Christian people in the choice and settlement of ministers under the law of patronage; the neglect or relaxation of discipline; the restraint of ministerial freedom in opposing maladministra- tion, and the refusal of the prevailing party to be reclaimed." To this body our young shepherd early attached himself, and ventured to conceive the idea of one day becoming a shepherd of souls in that connection. lie accordingly prosecuted his studies with increasing ardour, and began to attain con- siderable knowledge of Latin and Greek. These acquisitions he made entirely without aid from others, except at an occasional hour when he sought a solution of such difficulties as his unaided efforts could not master, from two neighbouring clergymen — -the one Mr. Moncrieff of Abernethy, who has just been mentioned as one of the founders of the seces- sion, and the other Mr. Johnston of Arngask, father of the late venerable Dr. Johnston of North Leith; both of whom were very obliging and communica- tive, and took great interest in promoting the progress of the studious shepherd-boy. An anecdote has been preserved of this part of his life and studies which deserves to be mentioned. He had now acquired so much knowledge of Greek as encouraged him to hope that he might be able to read the New Testament in its original language. Full of this hope, he became anxious to possess a copy of the invaluable volume, and for this purpose set out on a midnight journey to St. Andrew's, a distance of twenty-four miles. Having reached his destination in the morn- ing, he repaired to the nearest bookseller, and asked for a copy of the Greek New Testament. The master of the shop, astonished by such an application from so unlikely a person, was rather disposed to taunt him with its presumption. Meanwhile a party of gentlemen, said to have been professors in the university, entered the shop, and having understood the matter, questioned the lad about his employment and studies. After hearing his tale, one of them ordered the volume to be brought, and throwing it down upon the table, "Boy," said he, "read that book, and you shall have it for nothing." Young Brown acquitted himself to the admiration of his judges, carried off his cheaply-purchased Testament in triumph, and, ere the evening arrived, was study- ing it in the midst of his flock upon the hills of Abernethy. His extraordinary acquisitions about this time subjected him to a suspicion that he received a secret aid from the enemy of man, upon the pledge of his own soul. It was probably in consequence of this annoyance that he abandoned the occupation of a shepherd, and undertook that of pedlar or travel- ling-merchant. This mode of life was once of much greater importance and higher esteem in Scotland than at present, when the facilities of communication have been multiplied to such a degree, and was often VOL. 1. pursued by persons of great intelligence and respec- tability. Its peculiar tendency to imbue the mind with a love of nature, and form it to a knowledge of the world, have been finely illustrated by a great poet of our day: nor is the Scottish pedlar of the Excursion, though certainly somewhat too meta- physical, the unnatural character which it has been represented. It will not, however, be considered very surprising that young Brown did not shine in his new profession. During his mercantile pere- grinations, which lay chiefly in the interior parts of Fife and Kinrosshire, he made it a rule to call at no house of which the family had not the character of being religious and given to reading. When he was received into any such dwelling, his first care was to have all the books it could furnish collected together, among which, if he did but light upon a new one, he fell to the literary feast, losing in the appetite of the soul the hunger of the body, and forgetting the merchandise of pedlar's wares. It is related, that the contents of his pack, on his return to head- quarters, used to present a lively image of chaos, and that he was very glad to express his obligations to any neat-handed housewife who would take the arrangement of them upon herself. Many a time and oft was he prudently reminded of the propriety of attending more to his business, and not wasting his time on what did not concern him — till his monitors at last gave up the case, and wisely shaking their heads, pronounced him "good for nothing but to be a scholar." Soon after the close of the rebellion of 1745, during which he served as a volunteer in the regi- ment of militia raised by the county of Fife, in behalf of the government, he resolved to undertake the more dignified duties of schoolmaster. He established himself in 1747 at Gairney Bridge, a village in the neighbourhood of Kinross, and there laid the foundation of a school which subsisted for a considerable time, and, fifteen years after, was taught by another individual whose name has also- become favourably known to the world — the tender and interesting young poet, Michael Bruce. During Mr. Brown's incumbency, which lasted for two years, this school was remarkably successful, and attracted scholars from a considerable distance. He after- wards taught for a year and a half another school at Spittal, in the congregation of Linton, under Mr. James Mair. The practical character of his talents, the accuracy of his learning, the intimate experience which, as a self-taught scholar, he must have had of elementary difficulties and the best mode of solving them, must have peculiarly qualified him for the discharge of his present duties. Nor did he relax the while in the prosecution of his own. On the contrarv, his ardour seems to have led him into im- prudent extremes of exertion. He would commit to memory fifteen chapters of the Bible as an evening exercise after the labours of the day, and after such killing efforts, allow himself but four hours of repose. To this excess of effort he was probably stimulated by the near approach of the period to which he had long looked forward with trembling hope— the day which was to reward the toils and trials of his varied youth, by investing him with the solemn fundi' n ot an ambassador of Christ. During the vacations ot his school he was now engaged in the regular studv of philosophy and divinity under the inflection c! the A-sociate Synod, and the siiperintender.ee Rev. Fbenezer Krskine. and James Fisher, tw original founders, and principal lights of tr.e "• sioii church. At length, in' the year 1751, having completed his preparatory c : -' proved himself on trial before the Associate Presbytery 12 i 7 8 JOHN BROWN. of Edinburgh, he was licensed by that reverend body, at Dalkeith, to preach the gospel in their society. He had not been long a probationer when he re- ceived two nearly simultaneous calls to the settled discharge of ministerial duty; one from the congrega- tion of Stow, a village in the shire of Edinburgh, and the other from that of Haddington, the principal town in the county of that name. The presbytery of Edinburgh, within whose bounds both congrega- tions were included, and which had therefore, ac- cording to the Presbyterian constitution, the right of deciding between their competing claims, submitted the matter to his own discretion. His choice was determined to Haddington, and over this congrega- tion therefore he was finally ordained pastor in the month of June, 1 751. It deserves to be mentioned, however, that he continued regularly to visit and examine the congregation of Stow until it was supplied with a regular minister. To the duties of the sacred office he devoted him- self with the most zealous and laborious industry. The smallness of his congregation enabled him at once to undertake the widest range of ministerial duty, and to execute it with the greatest minuteness and accuracy. Besides regularly preaching four dis- courses every Sunday during the summer, and three during winter in his own place of worship, and occasionally in the country during the week, he visited all his people annually in his pastoral capa- city, and carried them twice in the same period through a course of public catechetical examinations. He was very assiduous in his visits to the sick and the afflicted, and that not merely to those of his own congregation, but to all of every denomination who desired his services. The peculiar characteristic of his manner of address on all these occasions, public and private, was an intense solemnity and earnest- ness, which extorted attention even from the scorner, and was obviously the genuine expression of his own overwhelming sense of the reality and importance of the message. "His grave appearance," says a late English divine who had attended his ministry for some time, "his solemn, weighty, and energetic manner of speaking used to affect me very much. Certainly his preaching was close, and his address to the conscience pungent. Like his Lord and Master, he spoke with authority and hallowed pathos, having tasted the sweetness and felt the power of what he delivered." To the same effect the cele- brated David Hume, having been led to hear him preach on one occasion at North Berwick, remarked, "That old man preaches as if Christ were at his elbow." Kxcept for his overawing seriousness, and occasionally a melting sweetness in his voice, it does not appear that his delivery was by any means at- tractive. " It was my mercy,'' he says, with charac- teristic modesty, that "the Lord, who had given me some other talents, withheld from me a popular de- livery, so that, though my discourses were not dis- relished by the serious, so far as I heard, yet they were not so agreeable to many hearts as those of my brethren, which it was a pleasure to me to see pos- sessed of that talent which the Lord, to restrain my pride, had denied to me." His labours were not in vain, and the members of his congregation, the small- ness of which he often spoke of as a mercy, seem to have been enabled to walk, in a great measure, suit- able to their profession and their privileges. In ec- clesiastical policy he was a staunch Presbyterian and Seceder in the original sense of the term, as denoting one separated, not from the constitution of the Estab- lished church, either as a church or as an establish- ment, but from the policy and control of the pre- dominant party in her judicatures. At the unhappy division of the Secession church in 1745, commonly- known by the name of the breach, on the question of making refusal of the burgess oath a term of com- munion, though personally doubtful of the propriety of a Seceder's swearing the oath in question, he attached himself to that party, who, from declining peremp- torily to pronounce it unlawful, obtained the popular appellation of Burghers, — justly considering that a difference of opinion on this point was by no means sufficient to break the sacred bond of Christian fellowship. His public prayers were liberal and catholic, and he always showed the strongest affec- tion for gospel ministers and true Christians of every name. In an unpublished letter to a noble lady of the Episcopal communion, he expresses his hope "that it will afford her a delightful satisfaction to observe how extensive and important the agree- ment, and how small the difference of religious senti- ments, between a professedly staunch Presbyterian and a truly conscientious Episcopalian, if they both cordially believe the doctrine of God's free grace reigning to men's eternal life, through the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ our Lord." He made a point of regularly attending and acting in the church courts, though he avoided taking any leading part in the management of ecclesiastical business. The uniformity and universality of his habits of personal devotion were remarkable. Of him it might well be said that he walked with God, and that in God he, as it were, to his own consciousness, lived, and moved, and had his being. The extent of his pecu- niary liberality was surprising. He considered it a binding duty on every individual to devote at least a tenth part of his revenue to pious uses; and out of an income which, during the greater part of his life, amounted to only forty pounds a year, and never exceeded fifty, and from which he had a numerous family to support, he generally exceeded that pro- portion. He distributed his benevolence with strict attention to the Saviour's command, "Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth." He was aware of the importance of conversation among the various means of doing good, and, though he laments his own "sinful weakness and unskilful- ness in pushing religious discourse," he was too con- scientious to neglect the opportunities which pre- sented themselves of promoting, in this way, the glory of God and the best interests of men. It is related that, having accidentally met Ferguson the poet walking in Haddington churchyard, and being struck with his pensive appearance, he modestly- addressed him, and offered him certain serious ad- vices, which deeply affected him at the time, and doubtless had their share in exciting and promoting those terrible convictions which latterly overwhelmed the poet's mind, and which it may perhaps be hoped there was something better than "the sorrow that worketh death." He knew, however, that there was a certain discretion to be used in such cases, and a selection to be made of the "mollia tempora /audi," the seasons when words arc "fitly spoken." Of this the following anecdote is an example: — Having occasion to cross the ferry between Leith and King- horn, with a Highland gentleman as his fellow - passenger, he was much grieved to hear his com- panion frequently take the name of God in vain, but. restrained himself from taking any notice of it in the presence of the rest of the company. On reaching land, however, observing the same gentleman walk- ing alone upon the beach, he stepped up, and calmly reminded him of the offence he had been guilty of, and the law of God which forbids and condemns it. The gentleman received the reproof J with expressions of thanks, and declared his resolu- JOHN BROWX. 179 tion to attend to it in future. "But," added the choleric Celt, "had you spoken to me so in the boat, I believe I should have run you through." It will not be supposed that, after having studied with such ardour in circumstances of comparative disadvantage, he neglected the more favourable- opportunities he now enjoyed of extending and con- solidating his knowledge. By a diligent improve- ment of the morning hours, and economy of time throughout the day, he rarely spent fewer than twelve hours of the twenty-four in his study. No degree of toil in the way of reading, or even of writing, seemed to daunt or to fatigue him. He transcribed most of his works several times with his own hand; and even without a view to the press, he more than once undertook the same fatigue for the convenience of private individuals. In this way, at the request of the Countess of Huntingdon, he copied out his System of Divinity, before its publication, for the use of her ladyship's theological seminary in Wales. He had remarkable facility in the acquisition of lan- guages; and of this species of knowledge he possessed an extraordinary amount. Besides the three com- monly called the learned tongues, he was acquainted with Arabic, Syriac, Persic, and Ethiopic; and of the modern languages, with the French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, and German. In the various depart- ments of real as distinguished from verbal know- ledge, his reading was very wide in range and various in subject. His favourite pursuits were history and divinity ; but every subject which more nearly or re- motely bore on the literature of his profession, he con- sidered worthy of his attention. He afterwards saw reason to repent of the wideness of his aims in this respect, and to regret "the precious time and talents," to use his own words, "he had vainly squandered in the mad attempt to become a universal scholar." His reading, though thus extensive, was at the same time very exact and accurate. In order to render it so, he in many cases adopted the tedious and labori- ous method of compiling regular abridgments of important and voluminous books. Among the works he thus epitomized, were Judge Blackstone's Commentaries and the Ancient Universal History. In the month of September, 1753, about two years after his ordination, Mr. Brown married Miss Janet Thomson, daughter of Mr. John Thomson, merchant at Musselburgh. For eighteen years he enjoyed in her a "help meet" for him in his Christian course, and at the end of that period he surrendered her, as he himself expresses it, "to her first and better Husband." They had several children, of whom only two survived their mother — John and Ebenezer, both of whom their father had the satisfaction, be- fore his death, of introducing as ministers into the church of Christ, the former at Whitburn, and the latter at Inverkeithing. Two years after the death of his first wife, which took place in 1771, he was married a second time to Miss Violet Crombie, daughterof Mr. William Crombie, merchant, Stenton, East Lothian, who survived him for more than thirty- years, and by whom he left at his death four sons and two daughters. In his domestic economy and discipline, Mr. Brown laboured after a strict fidelity to his ordination vow, by which he promised to rule well in his own house. His notions in regard to the authority of a husband and a father were very high, and all the power which as such he thought himself to possess, was faithfully employed in maintaining both the form and the power of godline>s. In the year 1 75S Mr. Brown, for the first time, appeared as an author. His first publication was entitled ".-/;/ Help for the Ignorant, being an Es ? ay towards an Easy Explication of the Westminster Confession of Faith and Catechisms, compiled for the use of the Young Ones of his own Congregation." In addition to this he published, six years after, two short catechisms — one introductory to, the other explanatory of the Shorter Catechism. All these publications have been very extensively useful. In 1765 he published what was at the time by far the most popular and successful of his works, entitled The Christian Journal, or Common Incidents Spiri- tual Instructors. This work, though it has some of the literary defects which, on such a subject, might have been expected from an author so circumstanced, such as the occasional indulgence of unrefined images, the excess of detail in tracing the analogies, and a certain monotonous rhythm of style in many- cases scarcely distinguishable from blank verse — nevertheless displays an extraordinary richness and ingenuity of fancy, and in many instances rises into a most impressive and heart- warming eloquence. In 1766 he published a History of the Rise and Progress of the Secession, and the year following, a series of Letters on the Constitution, Discipline, and Government of the Christian Church. These tracts were followed by his Sacred Tropology, the first of a series of works which he designed for the puquose of giving a clear, comprehensive, and regular view of the figures, types, and predictions of Scripture. The second and third parts were published in 1781. In the year 1768, in consequence of the death of the Rev. John Swanston of Kinross, professor of divinity under the Associate Synod, Mr. Brown was elected to the vacant chair. The duties of this important office he discharged with great ability and exemplary diligence and success. His public pre- lections were directed to the two main objects, first, of instructing his pupils in the science of Christianity, and secondly, of impressing their hearts with its power. The system of divinity which he was led, in the course of his professional duty, to compile, and which was afterwards published, is perhaps the one of all his works which exhibits most striking proofs of precision, discrimination, and enlargement of thought; and is altogether one of the most dense, and at the same time perspicuous, views which has yet been given of the theology of the Westminster Confession. He likewise, A.D. 1768, gave to the world one of the most elaborate, and certainly one of the most valuable of all his writings, Tlie Dic- tionary of the Holy Bible. For popular use it is unquestionably the most suitable work of the kind which yet exists, containing the results of most ex- tensive and various reading both in the science and in the literature of Christianity, given without pre- tension or parade, and with a uniform reference to practical utility. In 1771 the Honourable and Reverend Mr. Shirley, by command of the Countess of Huntingdon, applied to Mr. Brown for his opinion.- on the grand subject of justification, in view of a conference to be held on this question with Mr. Wesley and his preachers. This application gave occasion to a long and animated correspondence with that noble lady, and to a series of article- from his pen on the doctrine of justification, which ap- peared from time to time in the Gospel Magazine and Theological Miscellany, between the years 177c: and 1776. In the same year he was led, to contribute to the yet better ir-'r: students, to form the design <>\ cm] of church history on a genera! and comprehensive plan. It was to' consist of three parts, "the first comprehending a general view of transactions relat- ing to the church from the birth of our Saviour to the present time; the second Containing more i So JOHN BROWN JOHN BROWN, -M.D. fully the histories of the reformed British churches in England, Scotland, Ireland, and America; the third to comprehend the histories of the Waldenses and the Protestant churches of Switzerland, France, Holland, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Poland, and Hungary." Of these he completed the two former, his General History having been published in 1 77 1, and his History of the British Churches in the beginning of 1784. These form very useful popular compends, though destitute of high historical authority. The History of the British Churches, as a work of original research, is much superior to the more general compilation, which is little more than an abridgment of Mosheim, written in a more fervid spirit than the latter is accustomed to display. Mr. Brown's next publication appeared in 1775, and was an edition of the metrical Psalms, with Notes ex- hibiting the Connection, explaining the Sense, and for directing and animating the Devotion, In 1 7 7^ ' lc gave to the world the great work on which his re- putation is chiefly founded, The Self- Interpreting . the object of which is to condense, within a manageable compass, all the information which an ordinary reader may find necessary for attaining an intelligent and practical knowledge of the sacred oracles. The first publication of this work was attended with considerable difficulties, in consequence of the claim of the king's printers to the exclusive right of printing the authorized version of the Scrip- tures, whether accompanied or not with illustrative matter. This claim, however, having been set aside, the work was at length given to the world in 177S, and received with a high and gradually increasing and still unexhausted approbation. The same year he published a small tract entitled The Oracles of Christ Abominations of Antichrist, and four years after, his Letters on 'Toleration: strenuously maintaining the unlawfulness of tolerating by autho- rity a false religion in a professedly Christian country. These publications originated in the universal senti- ment of alarm entertained by the evangelical Presby- terians of Scotland, both within and without the Establishment, in consequence of the proposed abolition of the penal code against the Roman Catholics. In 17S1, besides his works on the types and pro- phecies formerly referred to, he published a sermon on the Duty of Raising up Spiritual Children unto Christ, preached partly at Whitburn, and partly after his son Ebenezer's ordination at Inverkeithing. He likewise, in the course of the same year, wrote a pamphlet in defence of the re-exhibition of the testimony, and a collection of the biographies of eminent divine--, under the name of the Christian Student and Pastor. This was the first of a series of similar compilations intended as illustrations and examples of practical religion, and was followed in 17S1 by the Young Christian, and in 1783 by the Lives of thirteen Eminent Private Christians. In 17S3 he published a small Concordance to the Bible. The year following he received an invitation from the reformed Dutch church in America, to become their professor of divinity, which he declined, and modestly kept secret. And, in I7S5, he concluded his career a-, an author, by a pamphlet against the travelling of the mail on the Lords-day a dav for the observance of which, in the strictest degree of sanctity, he always showed himself peculiarly jealous, not only abstaining himself, but prohibiting his family, from speaking on that day on any worldly affair, even on such as related to what may be called the secularities of religion and the church. The tracts published by him in periodical works, along with his Letters on Gospel Preaching and the Behav- iour of Ministers, were collected after his death, and published under the title of Remains. Throughout his writings Mr. Brown's uniform aim was general utility; personal emolument formed no part of his object, and certainly very little of his attainment, as the whole profit accruing to himself from his voluminous, and in many cases successful, works, amounted to only ,£40. Without possessing much original genius, but on the other hand too ready, it may be, to submit the freedom of his mind to system and authority, he was endowed with a strong aptitude for acquisition, and great power of arrangement, a sound and generally sober judgment, and a rich and vivid fancy, though united with a defective, or rather, perhaps, an uncultivated taste. The selection of subjects, and general conception of almost every one of them, are very happy, and in many cases the execution proves his high endow- ments for the task he undertook. The time now drew near that he should die. For some years previous he had been greatly annoyed with a gradual failure, at once in the bodily power of digestion and the mental faculty of memory — the symptoms of a constitution fairly worn out by the intense and incessant labours to which it had been subjected. In the beginning of 1787 his complaints increased in such an alarming degree, accompanied by a general and extreme debility, that he found it necessary to abandon the pulpit. During the months of spring, he lived in a continual state of earnest and active preparation for the great change he was about to undergo. He expired on the 19th June, and on the 24th his remains were followed to their place of repose in Haddington churchyard by nearly the whole inhabitants of the town, and a large concourse of his friends and brethren from a distance. At the first meeting of the Associate Synod after his decease, "the Synod," as their minute bears, "unanimously agreed to take this opportunity of testifying their respect to the memory of the Rev. John Brown, their late professor, whose eminent piety, fervent zeal, extensive charity, and unwearied diligence in promoting the interests of religion, will be long remembered by this court, especially by those mem- bers of it who had the happiness of studying divinity under his inspection." BROWN, John, M.D., founder of what is termed the Brunonian system in medicine, and one of the most eccentric and extraordinary men of his time, was a native of the parish of Bunkle, in Berwickshire, where he was born in the year 1735, or, as others assert, in 1737. Though only the son of a day- labourer, he contrived to obtain an excellent classical education at the school of Dunse, which was then taught by Mr. William Cruickshank, one of the most celebrated teachers that Scotland has produced. The genius and application of Brown were alike so great, that, at an age when the most of children are only beginning their letters, he was far advanced in a knowledge of Latin. His studies, after some time, were broken off in consequence of the inability of his father to maintain him at school. He was bound apprentice to the gloomy and monotonous craft of a weaver, which must have been peculiarly unsuitable to his lively faculties. However, he seems to have afterwards been enabled, by the kind- ness of his teacher, to renew his studies; and it is known that for this purpose he had employed himself on the harvest-field. 1 1 is proficiency in Latin recommended him, first to the situation of usher in the school, and afterwards to that of tutor in a neighbouring family. When about twenty years of age he removed to Edinburgh, and, enter- JOHN BROWN. 1S1 ing the university, advanced so far in the study of divinity, as to deliver a discourse preparatory to commencing his trials before the presbytery. Brown, however, was not destined to be a member of the clerical profession. Owing to some unexplained freak of feeling, he turned back from the very thresh- old, and for some years supported himself in the humble capacity of a grinder in the university. His services in this capacity to the medical students introduced him to a knowledge of medicine, which he suddenly resolved to prosecute as a profession. His natural ardour of mind enabled him very speedily to master the necessary studies, in which he was greatly assisted by the particular kindness and atten- tion of Dr. Cullen, then professor of medicine in the university. At one period he acted as Latin secre- tary to this great man, with whom he afterwards quarrelled in the most violent manner. In 1765 he married, and set up a house for the purpose of receiving medical students as boarders. But his irregular and improvident conduct reduced him to bankruptcy in the short space of two years. A vacancy occurring in the high-school, he became a candidate; but being too proud of his real qualifica- tions to think any other recommendation necessary, he was overlooked in favour of some child of patron- age. It is said that, when his name, and his name alone, was presented to the eyes of the magistrates, they derisively asked who he was; to which Cullen, then separated in affection from his former pupil, is stated to have answered, with some real or affected hesitation — "Why, sure, this can never be our Jock !" Brown met with a similar repulse on applying for the chair of theoretical medicine in the university. Vet, notwithstanding every discouragement from the great men of his own profession, this eccentric genius was pressing on towards the completion of that pe- culiar system by which his name has been distin- guished. His views were given to the world, in 1780, under the title Elemenla Mcdkina:; and he illustrated them further by lectures, which were at- tended, as a supernumerary course, by many of the regular students of the university. The Brunonian system simply consisted in the administration of a course of stimulants, instead of the so-called anti- phlogistic remedies, as a means of producing that change in the system which is necessary to work a cure. The idea was perhaps suggested by his own habits of life, which were unfortunately so very dis- solute as to deprive him of all personal respect. lie was, perhaps, the only great drinker who ever exulted in that degrading vice, as justified by philo- sophical principles. So far from concealing his practices, he used to keep a bottle of whisky, and another of laudanum, upon the table before him; and, throughout the course of the lecture, he seldom took fewer than three or four doses from each. In truth, Brown lived at a time when men of genius did not conceive it to be appropriate to their repu- tation as such, to conduct themselves with decency. Thus, a man who might have adorned the highest walks ot society by his many brilliant qualities, was only tit for the company of the lowest and most de- spicable characters. He was a devout free-mason, but more for the sake of the conviviality to which it affords so fatal an excuse, than for the more re- condite and mysterious attractions (if any such exist) of the fraternity. He was the founder of a peculiar lodge in Edinburgh, called the "Roman Lagle," where no language but Latin was allowed to be spoken. One of his friends remarked with astonish- ment the readiness with which he could translate the technicalities and slung of masonry into this lan- guage, which, however, he at all times spoke with the same fluency as his vernacular Scotch. It affords a lamentable view of the state of literary society in Edinburgh between the years 1780 and 1790, that this learned lodge was perhaps characterized by a deeper system of debauch than any other. In 1786 Brown removed to London, in order to push his fortune as a lecturer on his own system of medicine, which had already acquired no little fame. But the irregularity of his conduct, and the irascibility of his temperament, rendered all his hopes fruitless. He died at London, October 7, 1788, of a fit of apoplexy, being then little more than fifty years of age. His works have been collected and published by his son; but, like the system which they explain, they are now forgotten. BROWN, John, an ingenious artist, was the son of Samuel Brown, goldsmith and watchmaker at Edinburgh, where he was born in 1752. He re- ceived an excellent education, after the fashion of Scotland, and was early destined to take up the profession of a painter. Having formed a school friendship of no ordinary warmth with Mr. David Erskine, son of Thomas Erskine of Cambo, he travelled with that young gentleman in 1774 into Italy, where he was kindly received by Charles Erskine of the Rota, an eminent lawyer and prelate, the cousin of his companion. He immediately at- tached himself to the academy, with a resolution to devote himself entirely to the arts. During the course of ten years' residence in Italy, the pencil and crayon were ever in his hand, and the sublime thoughts of Raphael and Michael Angelo ever in his imagination. By continual practice he obtained an elegance and correctness of contour never equalled by any British artist; but he unfortunately neglected the mechanism of the pallet till his taste was so re- fined, that Titian, and Morillo, and Corregio made his heart sink within him whenever he touched the canvas. When he attempted to lay in his colours, the admirable correctness of his contour was lost, and he had never self-sufficiency to persevere till it should be recovered in that tender evanescent out- line which is so difficult to be attained even by the most eminent painters. He wished everything im- portant to be made out, and when it was made out, he found his work hard and disagreeable, like the first pictures painted by Raphael, and by all that preceded that wonderful artist. Brown, besides his genius for painting, possessed a high ta>te for music. His evenings in Italy were spent at the opera, and he penetrated deeply into the study of music as a science. At Rome Brown met with Sir William Vi ung and Mr. Townley, who. pleased with some of his pen-and-ink sketches, engaged him to accompany them to Sicily as a draughtsman. Of the antiquities of this island he took several very tine views in pen and ink, exquisitely finished, yet still preserving the character and spirit of the buildings he intended to represent. It was the belief of one of Brown's Scottish patrons, that if he had gone to Berlin, lie would have obtained the favour of Frederick the Great, on account of his extraordinary talents and 1 i personal character. A pious regard, however, for his parents, induced him to return I city, where, though universally beloved and admired, he found no proper field for the exertion ol Amongst the few persons of ta>t> him was Lord Monboddo. who. with that !;! by which he was distingui.-hed, gave ldm a general invitation to his elegai I employed him in making several [ er.cd-c.rr.w .r.gs. JOHN BROWN, D.D. He was also employed to draw pencil-heads of fifty of the more distinguished members of the Scottish Society of Antiquaries, then just established; of which he finished about twenty. Among other works which he produced at Edinburgh, were heads of Dr. Blair, Sir Alexander Dick of Prestonfield, Runciman, his friend and brother artist, Drs. Cullen and Black, all of which were done in the most happy and characteristic manner. His talent in this line is described as having been very great. Amidst the collection which he had brought home to Edinburgh, was a portrait of the celebrated Piranese, who, being unable to sit two moments in one posture, reduced his painter to the necessity of shooting him flying like a bat or snipe. This vara avis was brought down by Brown at the first shot. In 17S6 Brown was induced to remove to London in order to prosecute, on a larger field, his profession as a portrait-draughtsman in black lead. He was here occasionally employed by Mr. Townley in drawing from his collection of Greek statues, a branch of art in which Brown is allowed to have greatly excelled. After some time spent in unre- mitting application, his health gave way, and he was recommended to try the benefit of a visit to his native country, by sea. < )n his passage from London to Leith, he was somehow neglected as he lay sick in his hammock, and, on his arrival, he was found at the point of death. With much difficulty he was brought up to town, and laid on the bed of his friend Runciman, who had died not long before in the same place. Here lie expired, September 5, 1787, having only attained the age of thirty-five. BROWN, Rev. John, D.D. This learned and profound expositor of theology and eloquent preacher, was the son of the Rev. John Brown, Secession minister of Whitburn, and grandson of the distin- guished John Brown, Secession minister of Hadding- ton, of whom a notice has been already given. The subject of the present memoir was born in the parish of Whitburn, county of Linlithgow, on the 12th of July, 17S4. Even when a boy his devout disposi- tion, his love of reading and contemplation, and the distinction which his father, and still more his grandfather, had obtained as clergymen, had their natural influence in his choice of a profession; and having decided for the church, John, after the usual education at the parish school of Whitburn, was sent, at the age of thirteen, to the university of Edinburgh, where lie underwent the usual curriculum to qualify himself for the ministry. It was an early age at which to follow out the necessary studies of litera- ture and philosophy; but that he was already com- petent for such an attempt was thus attested by the learned Principal Lee, sixty years afterwards: — "I had the happiness of becoming acquainted with Dr. Brown in the year ieen recognized and acknowledged. On the following year (1816) he became editor of a new periodical, The Christian Repository and Religious Register, intended to defend the principles of dissent, and of this periodical Mr. Brown held the editorship for five years, until it was united with The Christian Monitor, a new periodical conducted by the Antiburgher Secession. Of this last periodical Mr. Brown also continued editor until 1826. As such an office, however, was too limited for his intellectual energies, he continued to issue separate writings from the press, of which the following is a brief summary: — In 1S16 he published a volume of discourses suited to the dispensation of the Lord's supper, discussing the nature of that sacred ordinance in its doctrinal and practical aspects. A year afterwards, he republished two of his articles contributed to the Christian Repository on the plans and publications of Robert Owen of New Lanark, upon which he brought such an amount of moral and political philosophy to bear, as might have sufficed to crush the system, and convince the originator of his errors, had that wayward genius been in any way open to conviction. In 18 1 8 he republished in a separate and improved form, three discourses which he had originally contributed to the Edinburgh Christian Instructor, on "The Char- acter, Duty, and Danger of those who Forget God." A far more important work which he published during the same year, was On Religion and the Means of its Attainment. In this little treatise he endeavoured to emancipate the subject from the artificial language of systems, and explain it in terms sufficiently intelligible. The contents of the work are thus briefly summed up by his biographer: — ■ "Religion is defined to be right thinking, right feel- ing, and right action towards God; and this scheme, adapted to the most elementary divisions of the powers of human nature, is shown to include the whole of religion in general, and of Christian piety in particular. The grand means necessary, and yet effectual, of becoming thus religious, is faith; and this is neither more nor less than the belief — in the ordinary sense of the word — of the contents of re- velation, since this secures right thinking, and by a necessary law of dependence, right feeling and action. Faith again is produced by the study of the meaning and the evidence of the truth which is set forth to be believed; and the inveterate disinclination of man to enter on and pursue this study, which is the only hindrance to religion, is overcome by the influence of the Holy Spirit." While the authorship of Mr. Brown was employed upon these subjects ol general religious interest, he did not forget the claims of missionary enterprise, and these sermons which he preached in support of foreign and home missions appeared at intervals from the press. '1 he first was On the Danger of Opposing Christianity, and the Certainty of its Final Triumph. The On the Duty of Pecuniary C Purposes. The third, which had e-; ecial r to the evangelization of the Highlands, was enl On the State of Scotland in Reference to the . of Religious Instru tiou. It was impossible that such an 1 ' - ure 1 ' ';•' as Biggar could long retain a minister wh< 1 was 1 t> distinction in the Secession church. It v.:;, seen that such talents were fitted f«-r a wi :er =] of usefulness, an;! accordingly, in 1S17. Mr. i received a call from a 1. V on in North Leith to become their minister, with which, 1 84 JOHN BROWN, D.D. however, he did not judge it fit to comply. Another call in 1822, from a congregation in Rose Street, Edinburgh, was more successful, and to this impor- tant ministerial charge he was translated after parting from his old flock with affectionate regret. The change came at the right time, as he was now in the thirty-eighth year of his age, in the full vigour of his intellectual faculties, and the field into which he entered was well fitted to task his previous training and experience to the uttermost. Not only the metropolitan pulpit, but the bar, possessed such eloquence and talent as no former period had wit- nessed; and no secondary excellence was needful to enable a dissenting minister to rise to distinction, or even to hold his own amidst such a formidable com- petition. But Mr. Brown stood the test and was successful; his weighty, well-studied sermons were winged with an eloquence and fervour that carried them to the hearts not only of general hearers, but of the learned and accomplished; ami Rose Street church, which was a large building little more than half filled, was soon crowded to overflowing. And it was no mere ephemeral popularity which thus welcomed his entrance into Edinburgh, but a lasting esteem that continued to the close, and the following description, given by one of his hearers, will apply to every Sabbath of his pulpit appearances: — "I can well remember with hundreds then children, but now advancing in life, that though not able to com- prehend the exact meaning of Mr. Brown's dis- courses, we used to walk in company, with the sanction of our parents, to a considerable distance, when it was known that Mr. Brown of Biggar was to preach in some country meeting-house, to enjoy the great luxury of at least seeing that never-to-be- forgotten face, and hearing the musical tones of his voice. From the time that he preached his in- duction sermon in Rose Street church, to the hour of his death, it was my unspeakable delight to sit under his ministry, and enjoy much of his personal friendship. The character of the attendance, from first to last, both at home and abroad, both in his early and later years, was such as to testify the high estimate formed of his pulpit services, and carries the mind back to kindred scenes witnessed in the early history of our church. ( )n a Sabbath-day, between sermons, I have seen groups of intelligent working people speaking earnestly together of the impressive truths uttered by him in the morning, and waiting anxiously for the afternoon or evening ser- vice; and then the crowds were so dense, that he was frequently led from the session-house to the pulpit, hand to hand across the tops of the pews." While such was the character, and such the effects, of Mr. Brown's preaching, his Sabbath min- istrations were accompanied with an amount and variety of every-day duties, which of themselves would have been sufficient for any ordinary man. They were, however, diligently performed, while additional tasks of a more indirect and fortuitous character, but perhaps not less necessary and useful, were cheerfully undertaken and successfully carried through. These chiefly referred to home and foreign religious missions, the gratuitous instruction of young students in training for the ministry, and the defence of Christian truth against its numerous assailants whether within the church or without. The Scottish church, in all its forms, especially demands a work- ing clergy, and it is in Edinburgh that their work is most abundant. But amidst all this multiplicity of toil, Mr. Brown continued to be a diligent student: in manhood and old age, and onward to the close of life, he was always seeking to perfect what he had already learned, or acquire something new, while every fresh attainment was made subservient to his favourite investigations in theology. In 1829 he was transferred from his church in Rose Street to that of Broughton Place, and while the change filled this large building with a regular audience, the number of members, which at first was 600, rose to 1200. In the autumn of 1S30 he had the degree of D.D. con- ferred upon him by Jefferson College, Pennsylvania. In 1834 he was elected to the chair of exegetical theology in the Secession church, and thus, in addition to his pastoral duties, the training of students for the ministry was devolved upon him. The importance of such a charge may be surmised from the fact, that during the twenty-four annual sessions, over which his tenure of office extended, not much less than a thousand students had passed under his hands. How well he was qualified for the office, the nature of his library, and his mastery of its contents, was one of many proofs. It contained several thousand volumes, many of them being rare and valuable, and all of them select and useful — the accumulation of a life-time, and purchased from a scanty revenue — and with these he was so well acquainted, that he could give an analysis of every book in the collection. When the Voluntary Con- troversy commenced, Dr. Brown, as might be ex- pected, coincided with his dissenting brethren; and when the Disruption occurred, by which the Church of Scotland was rent, and a new secession established still greater than the first, Dr. Brown watched every step of the movement with deep interest. Another subject of interest, which involved him in controversy, was the Edinburgh annuity tax for the support of the city clergy of the Establishment. This impost, in common with many of the Edinburgh dissenters, he refused to pay upon the plea of conscience; and to justify his refusal, he published two lectures on the subject, which by subsequent additions were ex- panded into a goodly volume. Independently of the popularity of this work among dissenters in general, its abstract merits were so great, that Lord Brougham thus wrote of it: "I have never seen the subject of civil obedience and resistance so clearly and satisfactorily discussed." But not content with a simple protest, Dr. Brown was ready to endure those legal penalties with which non-payment of the tax was visited; and once and again his household goods were distrained and sold by the civic authorities, in consequence of his refusal to pay the tax. It was a painful predicament in which to stand, which fortunately, however, did not long continue, for in consequence of domestic changes, unconnected with this impost, he found it necessary to remove beyond the boundaries of the royalty of Edinburgh, where the annuity tax had no hold. But a more painful subject was the "atonement controversy," which arose in the Secession itself, into which Dr. Brown was compelled to enter, and that lasted during five years of keen and vexatious debate, in the course of which he was charged by the opposite party with having advocated heterodox and unscriptural senti- ments. The doctor appealed to the Synod and de- manded a trial, the result of which was a complete acquittal, while his congregation expressed their con- fidence in him as a teacher of sound doctrine by a gift of ,£200, and other tokens of affection, when the trial had ended. A colleague having been appointed to him in 1842, and the vexatious atonement controversy having closed in 184^, Dr. Brown had leisure for a return to that kind of theological authorship by which his reputation, as well as usefulness, was the most per- manently insured. In 184S he published, in three volumes, his Expository Discourses on the First JOHN BROWN, D.D. ROBERT BROWN. i3 S Epistle of the Apostle Piter. These discourses had been preached to his congregation, at intervals, during a period of sixteen years, and were now pub- lished at their urgent request. Being delivered in the form of lectures, fashioned upon the old Scottish model, they may be properly considered as a com- mentary, where the critical and analytical learning is subordinated to the popular intelligence and practi- cal bearing of the expositions. The work was favourably received both in Britain and America, and in scholarship alone it rivalled the best commentaries of the German school of theology, with a more sound and practical character than they can generally lay claim to. His next work of importance, also in three volumes, having for its title, Discourses and Sayings of our Lord Jesus Christ, Illustrated in a Series of Expositions, appeared in 1850. His chief aim in this publication, for the illustration of which hundreds of volumes in various languages had been consulted, was to show the pre-eminent place which the person of Jesus holds in the Christian faith, as opposed to the rationalists of the age. "A personal deity," he writes, "is the soul of natural religion; a personal Saviour, the real living Christ, is the soul of revealed religion. How strange that it should not be im- possible — how sad, that through a perverted ingenuity it should not be uncommon — in reference to both of these, to convert that into a veil which was meant to be a revelation." As a sequel to his Discourses and Sayings of our Lord, Dr. Brown, in 1850, pub- lished An Exposition of our Lord^s Lntercessory Prayer, in one volume. His next work, which appeared in 185 1, was entitled " The Resurrection of Life, being an exposition in one volume of 1 Cor. xv." In 1852 he published his work called The Sufferings and Glories of the Messiah, and in 1S53 appeared his Exposition of the Epistle to the Galatians. This work, dedicated to the ministers, preachers, and students who had studied exegetical theology under his care, although comprised in a single unpretending volume, was one of the most carefully laboured of his writings, 1 14 critical and hermeneutical treatises having been consulted in the course of its preparation. As the preceding works, although comprising ten volumes, had been published within little more than five years, it was time that their author should rest, and accordingly three years elapsed before he resumed his pen. He then, towards the close of 1856, and when he was seventy-two years old, published his work entitled Parting Counsels, being an exposition of 2 Pet. i., to which were added some other dis- courses of public interest. In the following year, he published his Analytical Exposition of the Epistle of Paul to the Rowans, a subject which had exercised his mind for more than forty years, and upon which a vast amount of learning was concentrated. He intended to have produced upon this portion of Scripture an extensive commentary, but feeling the effects of old age, and the approach of death, was compelled to forego his design. In stating this, he adds, '"Vet I am unwilling to go hence, without leaving some traces of the labour I have bestowed on this master-work of the apostle; without contri- buting some assistance, however limited, toward the production of what, whenever produced, will mark an era in the history of Scriptural exegesis, — a com- plete exposition of the Epistle to the Romans. For- bidden to build the temple, I would yet do what I can to furnish materials to him who shall be honoured to raise it.'' His contribution in this case was a valuable volume of more than 600 pages. ( )ne work yet remained, an Exposition oj the Epistle to the LIcbreiL's, which he had prepared for the press, but did not live to publish. While the last years of Dr. Brown were thus spent in a round of ceaseless activity, in which the duties of minister, professor, and author were so faithfully discharged, the esteem which he had won from the world at large was emphatically expressed when the fiftieth anniversary of his ministry had arrived. This was on the 6th of February, 1856, and on the 8th of April the event was celebrated as a religious jubilee in his church of Broughton Place, and in the evening in Tanfield hall. The addresses delivered by the chief ministers of his own and other religious denominations bore striking testimony to his worth and the high appreciation of his character, while not the least eloquent was a gift of j£6io presented to him by his congregation as a token of their esteem and gratitude. Although Dr. Brown had never at any time been rich, he devoted the whole of this sum, with an additional donation of ^50 from his own pocket, towards the formation of a fund for the relief of aged and impoverished ministers. In 1857 his increasing debility obliged him to resign his pro- fessorship, and in the following year his ministerial charge, after which he patiently awaited that solemn change from time to eternity for which his whole life had been a preparation. On the 13th of October, 1858, he passed away so gently that it seemed the tranquil act of falling asleep, after he had expressed his joyful hopes of immortality, and bid his sorrow- ing friends farewell. A week after, his remains were interred in the New Calton burying-ground; and the funeral, which was attended by ministers of various denominations, and a concourse of mourners as such an occasion had never collected in Edinburgh, showed the public sense of such a bereavement. The character of Dr. Brown — his acquirements and accomplishments as a minister, professor, scholar, and Christian expositor — can be but faintly under- stood from this brief sketch of his history. His eloquence survives, but only in the memory of the living, while his authorship was of a kind that re- quires whole years fully to appreciate. But it will stand the test, and on that account will only be the more lasting. It is only necessary to add to this memoir, that Dr. Brown was twice married. His first wife was Miss Jane Nimmo of Glasgow, who died in May, 1816. His second wife was Margaret Fisher Crum, daughter of Alexander Crum, Esq., of Thomliebank, near Glasgow, whom he married after a widowhood of nineteen years, and who died in 1841. BROWN, Robert, D.C.L. This eminent bo- tanist, whom his friend Baron Humboldt character- ized as the "botanicorum facile princeps," was the son of a Scottish Episcopalian minister, and was born at Montrose on the 21st of December, 1775. His education was prosecuted first at the Marischal College, Aberdeen, and subsequently at the univer- sity of Edinburgh, where he finished his course ot medical study in 1795, in which year he accompanied a fencible regiment to Ireland, in the doul of ensign ami assistant-surgeon. Near the cl -c the eighteenth century he had returned t< I where he published his first scientific \ \ Asclepiadeas in the Transactions <;/ the lien Society, and on the 20th of November. 17 was elected an associate of the Liniuvan S>>l;l - .v o! London. The remarkable aptitude of Robert Brown for botany, and his proficiency in tl .had now secured for him the lasting fri ' - Banks, at whose recomm was attai 1S01 as naturalist to His M ijesty's -hi; . then commissioned under the commai: 1 of ( ROBERT BROWX- ■ THOMAS BROWX. Flinders to make a survey of the cqast of Australia. Relinquishing his medical and military commissions, Brown eagerly embarked in an enterprise where his favourite study would find such scope; and in the long exploration of the Investigator on the extensive coast of Australia, and its rocks, coral reefs, and shifting sandbanks, he zealously prosecuted his dis- coveries among the tlora of this new continent, with the growing fame of which his name will henceforth be indelibly associated. lie did not return to Eng- land until the end of 1S05, bringing with him nearly 4000 species of plants, many of which had hitherto been unknown in botanical science, and an inex- haustible store of new ideas in relation to the char- acters, distribution, and affinities of the singular vegetation which distinguishes the continent oi Australia from every other region. To arrange these specimens, to study them in their generalization and detail, and to publish the results of these labours, formed to Brown the work of his future years. But it was a labour of love, which he prosecuted with en- thusiasm, and the world was compelled to recognize his superiority. Hitherto the system in natural science of Ju.-sieu had been little known in England, or in- deed in any country except France; but its adoption by Robert Brown — who was now accounted the first botanist of the age — and the modifications and im- provements he introduced in it, made it be regarded as far superior to the Linnajan method, which it generally superseded. On the return of Brown from his exploration, laden with the botanical treasures of Australia, his labours were rewarded by his being appointed librarian to the Linnsean Society. After the death of Dryander in 1S10 he received the charge of the noble library and splendid collections of his friend, Sir Joseph Banks, who bequeathed to him their enjoyment for life, with the house in which these collections were contained, and an annuity of between ,£200 and //300 a year. At a later period these scientific trea- sures were transferred, with Brown's consent, to the British Museum, in which he was appointed keeper of botany. The public distinctions that were succes- sively conferred upon him showed how highly his contributions to science were valued, and himself esteemed. In 1810 he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society. He was a member of the Institute of France, and also of the Imperial L. C. Academy of Germany, and was enrolled as an honorary member in almost every minor society in all parts of the old and new world. He received during the adminis- tration of Sir Robert Feel a pension of ^200 per annum in recognition of his merits and public services. From the university of Oxford, in 1S32, he received the honorary degree of U.C.L., in company with Brewster, Dalton, and Farraday. In 1849 he became president to the Linnrean Society; and he was invested by the king of Prussia with the decoration of the highest Prussian civil order, pour le mcrite, of which Humboldt wxs the chancellor. As an author, Robert Brown did not produce bulky volumes; on the contrary, with two exceptions, they are independent communications published in the transactions of various societies, or in the appendix to narratives of scientific expeditions. In this form they would have been somewhat inaccessible to the general scientific public, had they not, up to the year 1834, been carefully collected by the late Dr. Nees von Essenbeck, president of the Imperial Leop. Carol. Academy of Germany, who published them in five octavo volumes, under the title of Robert ftroivu's Vcrmischte Schriflen. The excellence of this collec- tion, and the rich knowledge contained in the articles, will make every lover of botanical science regret that the collection was not continued still farther onward, and made more complete. The mere headings of these articles suffice to show the universality of Brown's botanical knowledge. His first separate publication after his return to England, which ap- peared in 1S10, was the first volume of his I'rodomus Flonz Nova Hollandia ft Insula; Van Diemen; but some unlucky critical remarks in the Edinburgh Re- view upon the classicality of his Latin made him withdraw the volume, so that it is chiefly known in Von Essenbeck's collection. In 1830, however, Brown seemed to think better of it, and issued a sup- plement to the Prodomus, the only one that ever ap- peared. His second great work, the Plantie Javan- icm Rariores, was published in conjunction with Ur. Horsfield and Mr. J. J. Bennett, and was com- pleted within the years 1838 and 1S52. Thus silently, in contrast to his merits and the hon- ourable recognition of those who could estimate them, the life of Robert Brown passed onward to the close. He was modest and shy of distinctions, so that he was eminently one of those who "have honour thrust upon them." But he had friends who understood and loved him well, and one of them, a distinguished contempo- rary, has thus delineated his personal worth: "Those who were admitted to the privilege of his intimacy, and who knew him as a man, will bear unanimous testi- mony to the unvarying simplicity, truthfulness, and benevolence of his character. With an appearance of shyness and reserve in the presence of strangers, he combined an open-heartedness in relation to his familiar friends, and a fund of agreeable humour, never bitter or caustic, but always appropriate to the occasion, the outpourings of which it was delightful to witness. But what distinguished him above all other traits was the singular uprightness of his judg- ment, which rendered him on all difficult occasions an invaluable counsellor to those who had the privi- lege of seeking his advice. How profoundly these admirable qualities had endeared him to the hearts of his friends was unmistakably manifested by the sympathetic tenderness with which his last hours were watched and soothed. With his faculties un- clouded to the last, he died on the 10th instant [June, 1858], surrounded by his collections in the room which had formerly been the library of Sir Joseph Banks. 'It was in the year 1810,'says one of his distinguished friends, who contributed greatly to relieve the sufferings of his last illness, 'that I first became acquainted with Mr. Brown, within three feet of the same place, in the same room where I saw him so nearly drawing his last breath three days ago. He was the same simple-minded, kind-hearted man in Xovember 18 10 as he was in June 1S58 — nothing changed but as time changes us all.'" BROWN, Thomas, a distinguished modern philo- sophical writer, the son of the Rev. Samuel Brown, minister of the parish of Kirkmabreck in the stewarty of Kirkcudbright, was born at the manse of that parish, January 9, 177S. Deprived of his father when between one and two years old, Thomas Brown was removed to Edinburgh, where for some years he lived under the charge of his widowed mother. By her he was taught the elements of learning, at a singularly early age, acquiring the whole alphabet, it is said, by one effort, or to use other words, in one lesson, and everything else with the same amazing facility. When between four and live years of age, lie was able to read the Scriptures, and also, it would appear, partly to understand them. One day, at that period of his life, he was found sitting on the floor of his mother's parlour, with a large family Bible on his knee, which he was THOMAS BROWN. 1S7 dividing into different parts with his hand: being asked jocularly if he intended to preach, and was now choosing a text, he said, "No, I am only wish- ing to see what the evangelists differ in; for they do not all give the same account of Christ." From the kindly tutelage of his mother he was removed in the seventh year of his age, and placed by his maternal uncle, Captain Smith, in a school at Camberwell, from which in a short time he was transferred to one at Chiswick, where he continued for some years. In these and two other academies he spent the years between seven and fourteen, and acquired a perfect classical education. In 1792 he returned to the maternal roof at Edinburgh, and commenced a course of attendance at the university. At this period of his life he was deeply read in English belles-lettres, and had even collected a considerable library, which, however, was lost at sea in its passage from England to Scotland. Having gone to Liverpool to spend the vacation of 1793 with some friends, he became, boy as he was, the intimate friend of Dr. Currie, the amiable biographer of Burns, who is believed to have been the earliest cause of his directing his mind to metaphysical studies, by placing in his hands the first volumes of Professor Dugald Stewart's Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, then just pub- lished. The impressions he received from this work were deepened next winter, when he attended its author's prelections in the moral philosophy class at Edinburgh College. Vet, much as he admired Pro- fessor Stewart, he did not fail, even at the early age of sixteen, to detect that deficiency of analysis which often lurks under the majestically flowing veil of his language and imagery. According to the late Dr. Welsh, whose very pleasing memoir of Dr. Brown is here followed, the scholar took an early oppor- tunity of presenting to his master a few remarks which he had thrown together in reference to one of his theories. "Those who remember the dignified demeanour of Mr. Stewart in his class, which was calculated to convey the idea of one of those great and gifted men who were seen among the groves of the academy, will duly appreciate the boldness of our young philosopher. With great modesty he read his observations; to which Mr. Stewart, with a candour that was to be expected from a philo- sopher, but which not the less on that account did him infinite honour, listened patiently, and then, with a smile of wonder and admiration, read to him a letter which he had received from the distinguished M. Prevost of Geneva, containing the same argu- ment which Dr. Brown had stated." This delightful incident was the commencement of an acquaintance between the master and the pupil, which led to more intimate relations, and only ended with the death of Dr. Brown. The varied and profound ac- quirements of this extraordinary young man, soon attracted to him the attention and friendship of many other personages, distinguished by academic rank and literary reputation, especially Professors Robison, Playfair, and Black, and Messrs. Horner, Leyden, Reddie. and Erskine. Ere he had completed his twentieth year, he was led, by the spirit of philoso- phical inquiry, to write Ol'serz-ations upon Dr. Darwin 's Zoonomia, in a pamphlet that far surpassed the work which had called it forth. It appeared in 179S, and, while it excited astonishment in those wli > knew the year-- of the author, was received in other quarters a^ the work of a veteran in philosophy. Dr. Welsh justly characterizes i - as one of the most remarkable exemplifications of premature intellect which has ever been exhibited, ami states that, though unfortunate in its object, and the exposure of an unworthy production, it is found to contain the germ of all Dr. Brown's subsequent discoveries as to mind, and of those principles of philosophizing by which he was guided in his future inquiries. Dr. Brown at this time belonged to an association of young men, which, whether from its peculiar object, the celebrity since acquired by several of its members, or one remarkable result of its existence, must be acknowledged as possessing no ordinary claims to attention. It was called the Academy of Physics, and its object is described in the minutes of its first meeting to have been, "the investigation of nature, the laws by which her phenomena are regulated, and the history of opinions concerning these laws." The first members were Messrs. Brougham, Erskine, Reddie, Brown, Rogerson, Birbeck, Logan, and Leyden ; to whom were afterwards joined Lord Webb Seymour, the Rev. Sydney Smith, and Messrs. Homer, Jeffrey, and Gillespie. The Academy pro- secuted its investigations with great assiduity and success for about three years; like many other clubs, the spirit in which it originated began to change with the changed years and altered views of its members; it flagged, failed, and was finally broken up. The remarkable result of its existence, above alluded to, was the establishment of the Edinburgh Review. The first writers in this work were Jeffrey, Brougham, Sydney Smith, Horner, and Brown. The leading article of the second number upon Katits Philosophy, was by the last of these gentle- men. Mr. Brown, however, did not long continue to contribute; a misunderstanding with the gentle- man who superintended the publication of the third number regarding some liberties taken with one of his articles, was the cause of his retirement. Brown's first ideas as to a profession led him to choose the bar, and for a twelvemonth he prosecuted the dry studies of the law. An insurmountable repugnance, however, to this pursuit caused him afterwards to study medicine. He obtained his degree of M.D. in 1803, on which occasion he was honoured with the highest commendations from Dr. Gregory, not only for his proficiency in medical learning, but for the amazingly fluent and el- gant style of his Latinity, of which no one could judge better than that learned professor, himself acknow- ledged to be the best Latinist of his time in Scot- land. Previous to this period, namely in 1S00, when he was only twenty-two years of age, his friends had, unsuccessfully, endeavoured to obtain for him the chair of rhetoric; but a system by which the clergy of the university seat were almost in- variably preferred to the vacant chairs, blasted his hopes on this occasion. This disappointment, with his antipathy to the courtly party of the church, by which it was patronized, seems to have inspired him with a vehement aversion to a system which can only be palliated by a consideration of the narrow- stipends then enjoyed by the clergy, and the pro- priety of enriching, by this oblique means, the ] in- spects which were to induce men of abilities t the church. Upon the promotion of Mr. Playl the chair of natural philosophy, Mr. Peslie com] for the vacant chair of mathematics with a 1 man whose attainments in that study, ::: ugh m> re than respectable, certainly could 11 I an equality with those of the ■ ; ] -'' , cai The church party, knowing that the) make out any superior (jualificati : - ii tl ir can- didate on the score <>f matin-: tics, produce the same effect by depreciating Mr. 1 qualifications on the score ot relig: n. 1 heir : lay in a note to Mr. Leslie's c-.-ay 01 ' at. main- ing an expression of approhati'm re-: > cting Ii doctrine of causation. The car.va.-, which lay in the iSS THOMAS BROWN. town-council, was the cause of great excitement in the literary world, and for some time absorbed every other topic of discourse in Edinburgh. Dr. Brown was tempted by his feelings on this subject to come forward with an essay, disproving the inferences which were drawn from Mr. Leslies note; an essay which, in a subsequent edition, he expanded into a complete treatise on cause and effect. Through the influence of this powerful appeal, and other similar expressions of public feeling, the patrons of the chair were shamed for once out of their usual practice, and Mr. Leslie received the appointment. Dr. Hrown had before this period published two volumes of miscellaneous poems, which, though they did not meet with brilliant success, arc yet to be admired as the effusions of an ingenious and graceful mind. In 1S03, immediately after receiving his diploma, he began to practise as a physician, and he had hitherto met with considerable success. lie was now (1806) taken into partnership by Dr. Gregory, and for some time his attention was occu- pied more exclusively by his profession than was at all agreeable to one disposed like him to give up worldly advantages for the sake of a darling study. The prospect of an occupation more germane to his min 1 opened up to him in the winter of 1S0S-9, when the state of Mr. Stewart's health induced him to request the services of Mr. Brown as his temporary substitute. The lectures which he delivered in this capacity attracted much attention, on account of their marvellous display of profound and original thought, of copious reading, of matchless ingenuity, and of the most admirable elocution; this last ac- complishment having been acquired by Dr. Brown in the ordinary course of his school studies. "The Moral Philosophy Class at this period presented a very striking aspect. It was not a crowd of youthful students led into transports of admiration by the ignorant enthusiasm of the moment; distinguished members of the bench, of the bar, and of the pulpit, were daily present to witness the powers of this rising philosopher. Some of the most eminent of the professors were to be seen mixing with the students, and Mr. l'layfair, in particular, was present at every lecture. The originality, and depth, and eloquence of the lectures, had a very marked effect upon the young men attending the university, in lead- ing them to metaphysical speculations." — (IVe/sh's Memoir.) The effect of these exhibitions was so great, that when Mr. Stewart, two years after, ex- pressed a wish to have Dr. Brown officially conjoined to him in the chair of moral philosophy, the usual influence in favour of the clergy was overcome with little difficulty. From the commencement of the session of 1810-II, he acted as the substitute of Mr. Stewart, who now retired to the country; and, what is certainly very wonderful, he wrote the whole of his first course of lectures during the evenings which preceded the days on which they were delivered. After the first and most difficult step had been got over, Dr. Drown obtained a little leisure to cultivate that poetical vein which had all along been one of his own favourite exercises of thought; and accord- ingly, in 1814, he published his largest versified work, entitled The Paradise of Cor/tt lies. As this poem appeared anonymously, its success, which was considerable, must have given him high gratification. He was, therefore, tempted next year to bring forth another under the title of The Wanderer in Xonvav. The health of Dr. Brown had never been good; and it was now the annual custom of this amiable and gifted being to retire during the summer vacation to some sequestered and beautiful nook of his romantic native land, in order to enjoy the country air and exercise. Sometimes he would plant himself in some Swiss-like spot, hanging between Highland and Lowland, such as the village of Logie in Glen- devon. At other times he would lose himself in the woody solitudes of Dunkeld. He had all his life a fondness for romantic and nigged scenery, amidst which he would occasionally expose himself to con- siderable risks. Walking was his favourite exercise, as he was thus able to pause and admire a rock, a wild flower, a brook, or whatever else of the beautiful presented itself. To his gentle and affectionate dis- position, one object always appealed with irresistible power — namely, a cottage smoking amidst trees: he never could pass a scene of that kind without pausing to ruminate upon the inexplicable sympathy which it seems to find in almost every breast. Though possessing a heart as open as daylight, the weakly health of Dr. Brown, and the abstraction of his studies, seem to have checked that exuberant feeling which assumes the form called love: it is the impres- sion of one of his surviving friends that he never ex- perienced that sensation, at least to any extent worthy of the name. His affections were devoted to his mother, his sisters, nature, books, studies, literary fame. He seemed to have none for "the sex." In 181 7 his feelings sustained a dreadful shock in the death of the former relative, who had been his first instructress, and to whom he bore an affection border- ing upon reverence. Her remains were first placed in a vault in Edinburgh; and at the end of the winter-session moved to the family burying-ground in theold churchyard of Kirkmabreck. This romantic and secluded spot Dr. Brown had always viewed with great interest. A few years before, in visiting his father's grave, he had been altogether overcome, and when he saw the earth closing in upon all that remained of a mother that was so dear to him, "and the long grassy mantle cover all," his distress was such as to affect every person who saw him. In 1818 Dr. Brown published a poetical tale, entitled Agnes. But his reputation in this walk of literature was not on the increase. His mind by no means wanted poetical feeling and imagery; but he never could prevent the philosopher from intruding upon his warmest visions, and accordingly there is a decided tameness in all his verses. It may be said, that, if he had not been a great philosopher, he would have been a greater poet; and, on the other hand, if he had not attempted poetry, at least his living reputation as a philosopher would have been somewhat enhanced. Towards the end of 1819 the ill health of Dr. Brown began to assume an alarming aspect, and early in the ensuing year he found himself so weak as to be obliged to appoint a substitute to deliver his lectures. This substitute was Mr. John Stewart, another of the d votees of science, and, like himself, destined soon to sink prematurely beneath the weight of intellectual exertion. Of Brown it might truly be said, that an active spirit had worn out the slender and attenuated frame in which it was enshrined. At the recommendation of his physicians, he took a voyage to London, and established himself at Bromp- ton, then a healthy village in the vicinity, but now- involved in the spreading masses of the great city. Here he gradually grew weaker and weaker, until the 2d of April, when he gently breathed his last. "Dr. Brown," says his reverend biographer, "was in height rather above the middle size, about five- feet nine inches; his chest broad and round; his hair brown; his features regular; his forehead large and prominent; his eyes dark gray, well formed, with very long eye-lashes, which gave them a very soft and pleasing expression; his nose might be said to be THOMAS BROWN WILLIAM LAWRENCE BROWN. 189 a mixture of the Roman and Grecian, and his mouth and chin bore a striking resemblance to those of the Buonaparte family. The expression of his counten- ance altogether was that of calm reflection. . . . His temper was remarkably good; so perfect was the command he had over it, that he was scarcely ever heard to say an unkind word. Whatever provoca- tion he received, he always consulted the dignity of his own character, and never gave way to anger. Yet he never allowed any one to treat him with disre- spect; and his pupils must remember the effect of a single look in producing, instantaneously, the most perfect silence in his class. . . . At a very early period, Dr. Brown formed those opinions in regard to government to which he adhered to the end of his life. Though he was not led to take any active part in politics, he felt the liveliest interest in the great questions of the day, and his zeal for the diffusion of knowledge and of liberal opinion, was not greater than his indignation at every attempt to impede it. The most perfect toleration of all liberal opinions, and an unshackled liberty of the press, were the two subjects in which he seemed to take the most interest, and which he seemed to consider as most essential to national happiness and pro- sperity. In his judgment upon every political ques- tion, he was determined solely by its bearings upon the welfare of the human race; and he was very far from uniformly approving of the measures of the party to which he was generally understood to be- long. Indeed, he often said that liberty, in Scot- land at least, suffered more from the Whigs than the Tories — in allusion to the departure he conceived to be sometimes made from professed principles with a view to present advantage. . . . He was inti- mately acquainted with the principles of almost all the fine arts, and in many of them showed that prac- tice only was wanting to insure perfection in his powers of execution. His acquaintance with lan- guages was great: French, Italian, and German he read with the same ease as English. He read also Spanish and Portuguese, though not so fluently. Among the more prominent features of Dr. Brown's character, may be enumerated the greatest gentleness, and kindness, and delicacy of mind, united with the noblest independence of spirit; a generous admiration of everything affectionate or exalted in character; a manly contempt for everything mean; a detestation for everything that even bordered on tyranny and oppression; a truly British love of liberty, and the most ardent desire for the diffusion of knowledge, and happiness, and virtue, among mankind. In private life he was possessed of almost every quality which renders society delightful, and was indeed remarkable for nothing more than for the love of home and the happiness he shed around him there. It was ever his strongest wish to make every one who was with him happy; his exquisite delicacy of perception gave him a quick fore-feeling of whatever might be hurtful to any one; and his wit, his varied information, his classical taste, and. above all, his mild and gentlemanly manners, and his truly philosophic evenness of temper, diffused around him the purest and most refined enjoyment. Of almost universal knowledge, acquired by the m 1st extensive reading, and by wide intercourse with the world, there was no topic of conversation to which he seemed a stranger. ... In the philosophic love of truth, and in the patient investigation of it, Dr. Brown may be pronounced as at least equal, and in subtlety of intellect and power of analysis, as superior to any metaphysician that ever existed. The predominating quality in his intellectual char- acter was unquestionably his power of analyzing, the most necessary of all qualities to a metaphysician. It is impossible, indeed, to turn to any page in his writings that does not contain some feat of in- genuity. States of mind that had been looked upon for ages as reduced to the last degree of simplicity, and as belonging to those facts in our constitution which the most sceptical could not doubt, and the most subtle could not explain, he brought to the crucible, and evolved from their simpler elements. For the most complicated and puzzling questions that our mysterious and almost inscrutable nature presents, he found a quick and easy solution. The knot that thousands had left in despair, as too com- plicated for mortal hand to undo, and which others more presumptuous had cut in twain, he unloosed with unrivalled dexterity. The enigmas which a false philosophy had so long propounded, and which, because they were not solved, had made victims of many of the finest and most highly gifted men of our race, he at last succeeded inunriddling." Dr. Brown's lectures were published after his death, in 4 volumes, 8vo, and have deservedly obtained a high reputation. An account of his life and writings has been pub- lished in one volume 8vo, by the late Rev. Dr. David WeUh. BROWN, William Lawrence, D.D., an emi- nent theological and miscellaneous writer, was born January 7, 1755, at Utrecht, where his father, the Reverend William Brown, wasministerto the English congregation. In 1757 his father removed with his family to St. Andrews, in order to undertake the duties of professor of ecclesiastical history; and the subject of our memoir, having commenced his educa- tion under his father's care, was placed successively at the grammar-school and university of that city, entering the latter at the early age of twelve. His native abilities, favoured by the fostering care of his father, enabled him, notwithstanding his immature years, to pass through his academical course with distinction; classical literature, logic, and ethics, being the branches of study to which he chiefly devoted his attention. After studying divinity for two years at St. Andrews, he removed to Utrecht, where he prosecuted the same study, and al.-o that of civil law. In 177S, having previously been licensed by the presbytery of St. Andrews, he suc- ceeded his uncle as minister of the English church at Utrecht; a field of exertion too narrow for his abilities, but which he, nevertheless, cultivated with the same zeal and application which a conscientious clergyman might be expected to bestow upon one more extensive. Such spare time as his duties left to him he employed in attention to a few pupils whom he received into his house. He at the same time enlarged his range of study, and occasi made excursions into France, Germany, and Switzer- land. In 17S6 he married his cousin, Anne Fliza- beth Brown, by whom he had five sons and four daughters. The first literary effort of Mr. Brown was an essay on the origin of evil, written lor a ; by the curators of the Ilolpian legacy at Utrecht, and which was adjudged the second h 11 the essays of twenty-five competiti rs, that I being published at the expense of the trust. S< on after this, namely, in 17S4, the university 1 : St. A conferred upon him the degree of I >< icti r :n Divii ;ty. Dr. Brown was successful in several other prize essavs, two of which \v< 1 of An Kssnv on the / .'.': / .V.y'z.v: »i. 1 : . 17SS: and An flssay -n (h/X^unu /. .v,.:.':.;:- 7 Edinburgh, 1703. ' The lat:< r : k a 1 view oi the subject than was _. r.erally adopted at 190 WILLIAM LAWRENCE BROWN JAMES BRUCE. the time of its publication; and it accordingly be- came the means of introducing Dr. Brown to the notice of the British government. Previously to the armed interposition of the Prussians in 1788, Dr. Brown was exposed to so much annoyance on ac- count of his attachment to the dynasty of Nassau, that he found it necessary to proceed to London, in quest of another situation. The event alluded to not only enabled him to retain his former office, but caused his elevation to a professorship, newly erected in the university of his native city, for moral philo- sophy and ecclesiastical history. He unfortunately was not allowed sufficient time to prepare the two elaborate courses of lectures required in this new situation; and, by his extraordinary exertions to accomplish what was expected of him, laid the foundation of ailments, from which he never after- wards recovered. His inaugural discourse was published under the title of Oratio de Religionis et Philosophic Soculate et Concordia maxime Salutari. Two years afterwards he was nominated rector of the university; and on depositing his temporary dignity, he pronounced an Oratio de Imaginations in Vita Institutions regenda, which was published in 1790. Though offered the Cheek professorship at St. Andrews, he continued in Utrecht till the inva- sion of Holland by the French, in the beginning of 1 795, when he was obliged to leave the country in an open boat, with his wife and five children, be- sides some other relations. Notwithstanding the severity of the season, the roughness of the weather, and the frail nature of the bark to which so many lives were committed, he reached the English coast in safety. In London, to which he immediately proceeded, he met with a friendly reception from Lord Auckland, to whom he had become known during his lordship's residence as ambassador at the Hague, and who now exerted himself so warmly in his favour, that he was, in the course of a few months, appointed to succeed Dr. Campbell as professor of divinity in the Marischal College, Aberdeen; to which honourable appointment was soon after added that of principal of the same college. We are informed by the writer of the life of Dr. Brown in the Encyclopedia Britannica, that "this new professorship imposed upon him a very serious ta>k, that of composing a course of theological lectures, extending over five sessions. After a re- view of the different systems of religion which lay claim to a divine origin, he discussed most amply the evidences and doctrines of natural religion. He then proceeded to the evidences of revealed religion, of which he gave a very full and learned view. The Christian scheme formed the next subject of an in- quiry, in which the peculiar doctrines of Christianity were very extensively unfolded. Christian ethics were also explained; and it formed part of his original plan, to treat of all the great controversies that have agitated the religious world. This portion of the course was not, however, completed." Besides attending to the duties of his chair and of his prin- cipality, Dr. Brown officiated as one of the ministers of the West Church in Aberdeen. A volume of his sermons appeared in 1803. He also occasionally attended the General Assembly, where his manly eloquence and impressive mode of speaking caused him to be listened to with great respect, though lie never arrived at the character of a leader. While discharging every public duty with zeal and efficacy, he did not neglect his favourite pursuits of literature. In 1809 he published Philemon, or tlic Progress of Virtue, a poem, Edinburgh, 2 vols, octavo; and in 1816 appeared his greatest literary effort, An Essay on the Existence of a Supreme Creator, Aberdeen, 2 vols, octavo. The latter was the successful com- peting essay, among fifty, for Burnet's first prize of ^1250; the second, of ^400, being awarded to Dr. Sumner, afterwards Bishop of Chester. Dr. Brown also wrote a few pamphlets upon passing occurrences, political and otherwise; and one or two articles in Latin, relating to formalities in the university over which he presided. His last considerable work was A Comparative Vino of Christianity, and of the other Forms of Religion which have existed, and still exist, in the World, particularly with regard to their Moral Tendency, Edinburgh, 2 vols, octavo, 1826. In addition to the preferments already mentioned, Dr. Brown was honoured, in 1800, with the appoint- ment of chaplain in ordinary to the king; and, in 1804, was nominated dean of the chapel-royal, and of the order of the Thistle. He was, last of all, in 1825, appointed to read the Gordon course of lectures on practical religion, in the Marischal College. Though thus bearing such a multiplicity of offices, Dr. Brown was, upon principle, opposed to plural- ities, and was, perhaps, only tempted to transgress the rule in his own case, by the want of adequate endowments for his two chief offices, those of divinity professor and of principal. Dr. Brown died, May 11, 1S30, in the seventy- sixth year of his age. Besides his great talents and acquirements, he was characterized by many excel- lent personal qualities. His mind was altogether of a manly cast; and, though honoured with the regards of a court, he was incapable of cowering to mere rank and station. With some warmth of temper, he was open, sincere, and generous, and entertained sentiments of unbounded liberality towards his fellow- creatures of all ranks, and of all countries. BRUCE, James, a celebrated traveller, born on the 14th of December, 1730, at Kinnaird, in the county of Stirling. Bruce was by birth a gentleman, and might even be considered as nobly descended. He was the eldest son of David Bruce, Esq. of Kinnaird, who was in turn the son of David Hay of Woodcockdale in Linlithgowshire (descended from an old and respectable branch of the Hays of Errol), and of Helen Bruce, the heiress of Kinnaird, who traced her pedigree to that noble Norman family, which, in the fourteenth century, gave a king to Scotland. It will thus be observed that the travel- ler's paternal name had been changed from Hay to Bruce, for the sake of succession to Kinnaird. The traveller was extremely vain of his alliance to the hero of Bannockburn, insomuch as to tell his engraver, on one occasion, that he conceived him- self entitled to use royal livery! He took it very ill to be reminded, as he frequently was, that, in reality, he was not a Bruce, but a I lay, and though the heir of line, not the heir male of even that branch of the family which he represented. In truth the real liruces of Kinnaird, his grandmother's ancestors, were but descended from a cadet of a cadet of the royal family of Bruce, and, as it will be observed, sprung off before the family became royal, though not before it had intermarried with royalty. 1 1 is mother was the daughter of James Graham, Esq. of Airth, dean of the faculty of advocates, and judge of the high court of admiralty in Scotland — a man dis- tinguished by his abilities and respected for lis public and private virtues. Unfortunately, the traveller lost his mother at the early age of three years— almost the only worldly loss which cannot be fully compensated. His father marrying a second time, had an additional family of six sons and two daughters. In his earliest years, instead of the robust frame JAMES BRUCE. 191 and bold disposition which he possessed in manhood, Bruce was of weakly health and gentle temperament. At the age of eight years a desire of giving his heir- apparent the best possible education, and perhaps also the pain of seeing one motherless child amidst the more fortunate offspring of a second union, in- duced his father to send him to London, to be placed under the friendly care of his uncle, Coun- sellor Hamilton. In that agreeable situation he spent the years between eight and twelve, when he was transferred to the public school at Harrow, then conducted by Dr. Cox. Here he won the esteem of his instructors, as well as of many other individuals, by the extraordinary aptitude with which he ac- quired a knowledge of classic literature, and the singularly sweet and amiable dispositions which he always manifested. To this reputation his weakly health, and the fear that he was destined, like his mother, to an early grave, seems to have given a hue of tenderness, which is seldom manifested for merely clever scholars. The gentleness of his char- acter, the result solely of bad health, led him at this early period of his life to contemplate the profession of a clergyman; a choice in which he might, more- over, be further satisfied, from a recollection of his ancestor, Robert Bruce of Kinnaird, who was the leading divine in Scotland little more than a century before. So completely, however, do the minds of men take colour from their physical constitution, that on his health becoming confirmed with ad- vancing manhood, this tame choice was abandoned for something of a bolder character; which, in its turn, appears to have given way, in still further increased strength, for something bolder still. He left Harrow with the character of a first-rate scholar, in May, 1746, and, after spending another year at an academy in the study of French, arithmetic, and geometry, returned, May, 1747, to Kinnaird, where he spent some months in the sports of the field, for which he suddenly contracted a deep and lasting attachment. It was now determined that he should prepare himself for the profession of an advocate; a road to distinction, which, as it was almost the only one left to Scotland by the Union, was then, and at a much later period, assumed by an immense pro- portion of the young Scottish gentry. He entered, in the winter of 1747, as a student in the college of Edinburgh, and attended the lectures on civil law, Scottish law, and universal history. But the study was not congenial to his mind, and he probably thought it a happy event that a return of bad health relieved him from this bondage. He was remanded to Kinnaird for exercise and air; and for several years he remained undetermined as to his future course of life. Be it remarked, there might have been no necessity for his leaving the paternal home in search of fortune, had not the number of his father's second family diminished his prospects of wealth from that source. Having at length resolved upon going to India, at that time a more adventurous field than it has since become, Bruce left Scotland, July, 1753, in the twenty-third year of his age, and arriving J n London, was received in the kindest manner by those friends with whom he had formerly resided. While waiting for the permission of the East India directors to settle there as a free trader, he was introduced to Adriana Allan, the beautiful and most amiable daughter of a wealthy wine-merchant deceased. An attachment to this young lady, which soon proved mutual, once more changed his destination in life. On making known his feelings to the surviving parent of his mistress, it was suggested that, in marrying her, lie miHit also wed him-eif to the excellent business left by her father. Love easily overcame every scruple- he might entertain regarding this scheme; and ac- cordingly, on the 3d February, 1754, he was married to Miss Allan. For some months Bruce enjoyed the society of this excellent creature, and during that time he applied himself to business with an enthusiasm borrowed from love. But, unfor- tunately, the health of his partner began to decline. It was found necessary that she should visit the south of France for a milder climate. Bruce ac- companied her on this melancholy journey. Con- sumption outstripped the speed with which they travelled. She was unable to move beyond Paris'. There, after a week's suffering, she died in his arms. By this event the destiny of Bruce was once more altered. The tie which bound him to trade — almost to existence, was broken. He seems to have now thought it necessary that he should spend a life of travel. Abandoning the cares of business to hi-, partner, and resolving to take an early opportunity of giving np his share altogether, he applied himself to the study of the Spanish and Portuguese languages, and also improved his skill in drawing, under a master of the name of Bonneau, recommended to him by Mr. (afterwards Sir Robert) Strange. Before this time he had chiefly cultivated that part of draw- ing which relates to the science of fortification, in hopes that he might, on some emergency, find it of use in military service. But views of a more exten- sive kind now induced him to study drawing in general, and to obtain a correct taste in painting. This notice of his application to the study of drawing we have given in the words of his biographer (Dr. Murray), because it was long and confidently re- ported by those who wished to lessen his reputation, that he was totally and incorrigibly ignorant of the art. In July, 1757, he sailed for Portugal, landed at Coranna, and soon reached Lisbon. He was much struck by the ways of the Portuguese, many of which are directly opposite to those of all other nations. A Portuguese gentleman, showing out a friend, walks before him to the door; a Portuguese boatman rows with his face to the front of the vessel, and lands stern foremost; when a man and woman ride on horseback, the woman is foremost, and sits with her face to the right side of the animal. And what, in Brace's opinion, accounted for all this contrariety, the children are rocked in cradles which move from head to foot. From Portugal, after four months' stay, Bruce travelled into Spain, where he also spent a considerable time. The sight of the remains of Moorish grandeur here inspired him with the wish of writing an account of the domination of that people in Spain; but he found the materials inaccessible through the jealousy of the government. Leaving Spain, he traversed France, visited Brussels, and, passing through Holland into Germany, there wit- nessed the battle of Crevelt. Returning by Rotter- dam, he received intelligence of the death oi hi- father, by which event he became laird of Kim The property he thus acquired was soon after con- siderably increased by the establishment of the < company, which was supplied with coal from hi- mines. He now employed himself in -tudyii Arabic language, a branch of knowledge then little regarded in Britain. In 1761 he withdrew entirely from the wine trade. About this time Bruce formed an acquaintance with Mr. Pitt (the elder'), tl the head of affairs, to whom he propped a scheme for making a descent up^i Spain, against ' country Britain was expected. I war. Though tliis project came t > •:, thing, I. rd 1 had marked the* enterprise- - ;emu= jf this Sc ttish 192 JAMES BRUCE. gentleman, and proposed to him to signalize the commencement of the new reign by making dis- coveries in Africa. It was not part of this proposal that he should attempt to reach the source of the Nile; that prodigious exploit, which had baffled the genius of the civilized world for thousands of years, seemed to Lord Halifax to be reserved for some more experienced person; his lordship now only spoke of discoveries on the coast of Barbary, which had then been surveyed, and that imperfectly, by only one British traveller, Dr. Shaw. For this end Bruce was appointed to be consul at Algiers. In an interview with George III., with which he was hon- oured before setting out, his majesty requested him to take drawings of the ruins of ancient architecture which he should discover in the course of his travels. It having been provided that he should spend some time by the way in Italy, he set out for that country in June, 1762. He visited Rome, Naples, and Florence, and fitted himself by surveying the works of ancient art, for the observations he was to make upon kindred objects in Africa. Here he formed a:i acquaintance with a native of Bologna, named Luigi Balugani, whom he engaged to attend him in his travels, in the capacity of an artist. He at length sailed from Leghorn to Algiers, which he reached in March, 1763. Ali Pacha, who then acted as dey in this barbarous state, was a savage character, not unlike the celebrated personage of the same name, whom Lord Byron introduced to European notice. An injudicious yielding to his will, on the part of the English government, who changed a consul at his request, had just given an additional shade of ins ilence and temerity to his character; and he ex- pected to tyrannize over Bruce as over one of his own officers. The intrepidity of the new consul, it may be imagined, was, under such circumstances, called into frequent action. He several times bearded this lion in his very den, always apparently indebted for his safety to the very audacity which might have been expected to provoke his ruin. A good idea of the true British fortitude which he exerted under such circumstances, may be gained from a letter to Lord Halifax, in which, after re- commending forcible measures, which would have been highly dangerous to his own personal security, he says, — " I myself have received from a friend some private intimations to consult my own safety and escape. The advice is impracticable, nor would I take it were it not so. Your lordship may depend upon it, that till I have the king's orders, or find that I can be of no further service here, nothing will make me leave Algiers but force. One brother has already, this war, bad the honour to lose his life in the service of his country. Two others, besides myself, are still in it, and if any accident should happen to me, as is most probable from these lawless butchers, all I beg of his majesty is that he will graciously please to extend his favour to the sur- vivors, it deserving, and that he will make this city an example to other-, how they violate public faith and the law of nations." It is this constancy and firmness in postponing the consideration of danger to the consideration of duty, which has mainly tended t 1 ex i!t the British character above those of other nations. Bruce weathered every danger till August, 1765, when, being relieved by the arrival of another consul, he left this piratical stronghold, and began to prosecute his researches along the coast of Africa. Landing at Bona, he paid a visit to Utica, ''out of respect to the memory of Cato," and then, with a proper retinue for his protection, penetrated into the interior of the kingdoms of Algiers and Tunis. On the borders of these states he found a tribe named the Welled Sidi Boogannim, who are exempted from taxes on condition of their living exclusively upon lions; a means of keeping down those enemies of the public. Dr. Shaw, the only British predecessor of Bruce in this line of research, had been much laughed at, and even openly scouted, for having hinted at the existence of such a custom. His friends at Oxford thought it a subversion of the established order of things, that a man should eat a lion, when it had long passed as almost the peculiar province of the lion to eat the man. Bruce was exactly the man to go the more boldly forward when such a lion was in the way. After having traversed the whole of these states, and taken drawings of every antiquity which he esteemed worthy of notice, he moved further west to Tripoli, where he was received with great kindness by Mr. Fraser of Lovat, British consul at that place. From Tripoli he despatched the greater part of his drawings to Smyrna, by which precaution they were saved from the destruction which must have other- wise been their fate. Crossing the Gulf of Sidra, which makes a considerable sweep into the northern coast of Africa, Bruce now reached Bengazi — -the ancient Berenice built by Ptolemy Philadelphus. From this place he travelled to Ptolemata, where, finding the plague raging, he was obliged to embark hastily in a Greek vessel which he hired to carry him to Crete. This was perhaps the most unlucky step he took during the whole of his career. The vessel was not properly provided with ballast; the sails defied the management of the ignorant man who professed to steer it; it had not therefore got far from shore when a storm drove it to leeward, and it struck upon a rock near the harbour of Bengazi. Bruce took to the boat, along with a great number of the other passengers; but finding that it could not survive, and fearing lest he should be overwhelmed by a multitude of drowning wretches, he saw it necessary to commit himself at once to the sea, and endeavour to swim ashore. In this attempt, after suffering much from the violence of the surf, he was at last successful. He had only, however, become exposed to greater dangers. A plundering party of Arabs came to make prey of the wrecked vessel, and his Turkish clothing excited their worst feelings. After much suffering he got back to Bengazi, but with the loss of all his baggage, including many valuable instruments and drawings. Fortunately, the master of a French sloop, to whom he had ren- dered a kindness at Algiers, happened to be lying in that port. Through the grateful service of this per- son he was carried to Crete. An ague, however, had fixed itself upon his constitution in consequence of his exertions in the sea of Ptolemata: it attacked him violently in Crete, and he lay for some days danger- ously ill. On recovering a little, he proceeded to Rhodes, and from thence to Asia Minor, where he inspected the ruins of Baalbec and Palmyra. By the time lie got back to Sidon he found that his letters to Europe announcing the loss of his instruments were answered by the transmission of a new set, in- cluding a quadrant from Louis XV., who had been told by Count Buffon of the unhappy affair of Ben- gazi. In June, I /OS, he sailed from Sidon to Alex- andria, resolved no longer to delay that perilous expedition which had taken possession of his fancy. "Previous to his first introduction to the waters of the Nile," says Captain Head, "it may not be im- proper, for a moment, calmly and dispassionately to consider how far he was qualified for the attempt which he was about to undertake. Being thirty. ciLdit years of age, he was at that period of life in which both the mind and body of man arc capable JAMES BRUCE. 193 of their greatest possible exertions. During his travels and residence in Europe, Africa, and Asia, he had become practically acquainted with the reli- gion, manners, and prejudices of many countries different from his own; and he had learned to speak the French, Italian, Spanish, modern Greek, Moor- ish, and Arabic languages. Full of enterprise, en- thusiastically devoted to the object he had in view, accustomed to hardship, inured to climate as well as to fatigvie, he was a man of undoubted courage; in stature six fid four, and with this imposing appear- ance possessing great personal strength; and lastly, in every proper sense of the word, he was a gentle- man; and no man about to travel can give to his country a better pledge for veracity than when, like Bruce, his mind is ever retrospectively viewing the noble conduct of his ancestors — thus showing that he considers he has a stake in society which, by the meanness of falsehood or exaggeration, he would be unable to transmit unsullied to posterity." From Alexandria he proceeded to Cairo, where he was received with distinction by the bey, under the character of a dervish, or soothsayer, which his ac- quaintance with eastern manners enabled him to as- sume with great success. It happened — fortunately for his design — that in the neighbourhood of Cairo resided a Greek patriarch who had lived some time under his roof at Algiers, and taught him the modern Greek language. This person gave him letters to many Greeks who held high situations hi Abyssinia, besides a bull, or general recommendation, claiming protection for him from the numerous per- sons of that nation residing in the country. Bruce had previously acquired considerable knowledge of the medical art, as part of that preparatory educa- tion with which he had fitted himself for his great task. The bey fortunately took ill: Bruce cured him. His highness, in gratitude, furnished him witli recommendatory letters to a great number of ruling personages throughout Egypt and along both shores of the Red Sea. Bruce, thus well provided, commenced his voyage up the Nile, December 12, 176S, in a large canja or boat, which was to carry him to Furshoot, the residence of Amner, the sheikh of Upper Egypt. For two or three weeks he enjoyed the pleasure of coasting at ease and in safety along the wonder-studded banks of this splendid river, only going on shore occasionally to give the more remark- able objects a narrower inspection. lie was at Fur- shoot on the 7th of January, 1769. Advancing hence to Sheikh Amner, the encampment of a tribe of Arabs, whose dominion extended almost to the coast of the Red Sea, he was fortunate enough to acquire the friendship of the sheikh, or head of the race, by curing him of a dangerous disorder. This secured him the means of prosecuting his journey in a peace- able manner. Under the protection of this tribe he soon reached Cosseir — a fort on the Red Sea — having previously, however, sent all his journals and draw- ings, hitherto completed, to the care of some friends at Cairo. Bruce sailed from Cosseir on the 5th of April, and for several months he employed himself in making geographical observations upon the coasts of this important sea. On the 19th of September, after having for the first time determined the latitude and longitude of many places, which have since been found wonderfully correct, he landed at Massuah, the port of Abyssinia. Here he encountered great danger and difficulty, from the savage character of the naybc or governor of Massuah, who, not regard- ing the letters carried by Bruce from the Bey of Cairo, had very nearly taken his lite. By the kind- ness of Achmet, a nephew of the naybe, whom Bruce rescued from a deadly sickness, lie was VOL. 1. enabled to surmount the obstacles presented against him in this place, and on the 15th November began to penetrate the country of Abyssinia. In crossing the hill of Tarenta, a mountainous ridge which skirts the shore, the traveller encountered hardships under which any ordinary spirit would have sunk. Advancing by Dixan, Adowa, and Axum, he found himself greatly indebted for safety and accommodation to the letters which he carried for the Greeks, who formed the civilized class amongst that rude people. It was in the neighbourhood of Axum that he saw the unfortunate sight (the slicing of steaks from the rump of a live cow) which was the chief cause of his being afterwards generally dis- credited in his own country. On the 14th of February, after a journey of ninety-five days from Massuah, he reached Gondar, the capital of Abyssinia, a town containing about 10,000 families. The king and his chief minister Ras Michael, to both of whom Bruce had letters of introduction, were now absent with the army, putting down a rebellion which had been raided by Fasil, a turbulent governor of a province. But Bruce was favourably received by one Ayto Aylo, a Greek, and chamberlain of the palace. It happened that the favourite child of Ras Michael was at this time ill with the small-pox at the country palace of Koscam. Ozoro Esther, the beautiful young wife of Ras Michael, and the mother of this child, watched over the sick-bed with intense anxiety. Bruce, by the good offices of Ayto Aylo, was introduced to the distracted mother as a skilful physician; and after some preliminary civilities, he undertook to cure the child, in which task he very soon succeeded. Having thus at once secured favour in a very high quarter, he waited patiently for two or three weeks, when the king and Ras Michael, having gained a victory, returned to Gondar, and Bruce was then presented to them. Ras Michael, at the first inter- view, acknowledged the powerful nature of Bruce's recommendations, but explained to him that, owing to the present convulsed state of the country, it would be difficult to afford him all the protection that might be wished. It appeared to Michael that the best way of insuring personal safety and respect for him throughout the country would be to give him a high office in the king's household. Bruce con- sented from the conviction that in becoming baalo- maal, and commander of the Koccob horse, la- was doing his best towards facilitating his journey. While acting in the capacity of baalomaal — which seems to have been somewhat like the British office of lord of the bed-chamber — he secured the king's favour and admiration by the common school-boy trick of shooting a small candle through a dense substance. He was now appointed to be governor of a large Mahometan province which lay on the way lie de- signed to take in returning home: this duty, how- ever, he could perform by deputy. In May the army set out from Gondar to meet the rebel Fa.- I, Bruce took that share in the fatigues and perils of tie campaign which his office rendered necessary. He was of great service in improving the disc i] ne ■ I army, and was looked upon as a finished warri* :. After a good deal of marching and counter-n 11 the royal forces gained a complete victory over I who was consequently obliged to make hi- -u; mi This rebel now lived on amicable term- wit king and his officers, and Bruce, recoiled teresting site of his government, busied hin - performing medical services t" 1;> ; When the king came to a-k Brui would have for his share in I thusiastic traveller answ that 1 ) wish d tw > favours,— the propi rt\ f the village of Gee-h, with 13 194 JAMES BRUCE. the spot in its neighbourhood where he understood the Nile to arise, and a royal mandate obliging Fasil to facilitate his journey to that place. The king, smiling at the humility of his desires, granted the re- quest, only regretting that Yagoube (such was the name assumed by Bruce in his travels) could not be induced to ask something ten times more precious. The attention of the sovereign and his minister were now distracted by the news of another insurrection in the western parts of the kingdom; and it was neces- sary to move the army in that direction. Bruce made the excuse of his health (which was really bad) to avoid attendance in this campaign; and at length, with some difficulty, he obtained the king's permis- sion to set out for Geesh, which he was now resolved on, notwithstanding that the breaking out of another rebellion foreboded ill for the continued submis- sion of Fasil, and consequently for the safety of the traveller. Bruce set out upon this last great stage of his journey on the 2Sth of October, 1770, and he was introduced to the presence of Fasil at a place called Bamba. Fasil, partly through the representa- tions of those officers to whom Bruce had recom- mended himself, was in reality favourably disposed to him; but he at first thought proper to affect a con- trary sentiment, and represented the design as im- practicable. In the course of the wrangling which took place between the two on this subject, Bruce was so much incensed that his nose spontaneously gushed with blood, and his servant had to lead him from the tent. Fasil expressed sorrow at this inci- dent, and immediately made amends by taking mea- sures to facilitate Bruce's journey. He furnished him with a guide called Woldo, as also seven savage chieftains of the country for a guard, and furthermore added, what was of greater avail than all the rest — a horse of his own, richly caparisoned, which was to go before the travelling party as a symbol of his pro- tection, in order to insure the respect of the natives. By way of giving a feasible appearance to the jour- ney, Bruce was invested by Fasil with the property and governorship of the district of Geesh, in which the Nile rises; so that this strangely disguised native of Stirlingshire, in the kingdom of Scotland, looked entirely like an Abyssinian chief going to take pos- session of an estate in the highlands of that remote and tropical country. Bruce left Fasil's house on the 31st of October, and as he travelled onward for a few days through this rude territory, the people, instead of giving him any annoyance, everywhere fled at his approach, thinking, from the appearance of Fasil's horse, that the expedition was one of taxation and contribution. Those few whom Bruce came in contact with, he found to have a religious veneration for the Nile, the remains of that pagan worship which was originally paid to it, and which was the sole religion of the country before the introduction of Christianity. Even the savages who formed his guard, would have been apt, as he found, to destroy him, if he had crossed the river on horseback, or employed its waters in washing any part of his dress. He also learned that there was still a kind of priest of this worship, who dwelt at the fountain of the Nile, and was called "the servant of the river."' It thus appeared that, as in the ruder parts of Brace's native country, the aboriginal religion had partly survived the ordi- nances of a new and purer worship for many cen- turies. It was early in the afternoon of November 3d, that Bruce surmounted a ridge of hills which separated him from the fountain of the Nile, and for the first time cast his European eves on that object — the first, and, we believe, the only European eyes that have ever beheld it. It was pointed out to him by Woldo, his guide, as a hillock of green sod in the middle of a marshy spot at the bottom of the hill on which he was standing. To quote his own account of so remarkable a point in his life — "Half undressed as I was, by the loss of my sash, and throwing off my shoes [a necessary preliminary to satisfy the pagan feelings of the people], I ran down the hill, towards the hillock of green sod, which was about 200 yards distant; the whole side of the hill was thick grown with flowers, the large bulbous roots of which ap- pearing above the surface of the ground, and their skins coming off on my treading upon them, occa- sioned me two very severe falls before I reached the brink of the marsh. I after this came to the altar of green turf, which was apparently the work of art, and I stood in rapture above the principal fountain, which rises in the middle of it. It is easier to guess than to describe the situation of my mind at that moment — standing in that spot which had baffled the genius, industry, and inquiry of both ancients and moderns for the course of near 3000 years. Kings had attempted this discovery at the head of armies, and each expedition was distinguished from the last only by the difference of numbers which had perished, and agreed alone in the disappointment which had uniformly and without exception followed them all. Fame, riches, and honour had been held out for a series of ages to every individual of those myriads these princes commanded, without having produced one man capable of gratifying the curiosity of his sovereign, or wiping off this stain upon the enterprise and abilities of mankind, or adding this desideratum for the encouragement of geography. Though a mere private Briton, I triumphed here, in my own mind, over kings and their armies ! and every comparison was leading nearer and nearer to presumption, when the place itself where I stood, the object of my vainglory, suggested what depressed my short-lived triumph. I was but a few minutes arrived at the sources of the Nile, through number- less dangers and sufferings, the least of which would have overwhelmed me but for the continual good- ness and protection of Providence: I was, however, but then half through my journey and all those dangers through which I had already passed awaited me on my return; — I found a despondency gaining ground fast, and blasting the crown of laurels I had too rashly woven for myself." In this paragraph — one of the most deeply touching ever written — we find the Herculean mind of Bruce giving way, under the influence of success, to sensations which had scarcely ever affected him during the whole course of his journey, while as yet the desire of going onward and the necessity of providing the means of doing so with safety, possessed and amused his mind. There might also mingle with the varied tide of his sensa- tions a reluctantly acknowledged sense of the futility of all his exertions, and perils, and sufferings, since they had only obtained for him the sight of a pagan altar from which proceeded one of the feeders, not certainly known to be the principal one, of the mighty Nile: to what good could this sight conduce, since, after all, it was only a sight? the object hav- ing been all along proved to exist, by the mere laws of nature. The traveller relates that his despondency continued for some time; and that, as he could not reason it away, he resolved to direct it till he might be able, on more solid reflection, to overcome its progress. Calling to Strates, a faithful Greek, who had accompanied him throughout all his Abyssinian travels, he said, "Strates, faithful squire ! come and triumph with your Don Quixote at that island of Barataria, to which we have most wisely and fortu- nately brought ourselves! Come and triumph with JAMES BRUCE. '95 me over all the kings of the earth, all their armies, all their philosophers, and all their heroes!' 'Sir,' says Strates, 'I do not understand a word of what you say, and as little of what you mean: you very well know I am no scholar.' 'Come,' said I, 'take a draught of this excellent water, and drink with me a health to his Majesty George III., and a long line of princes.' I had in my hand a large cup, made of a cocoa-nut shell, which I procured in Arabia, and which was brimful." [This cup was brought home by Bruce, and his representatives at Kinnaird still use it every day when they entertain company at dinner.] "He drank to the king speedily and cheerfully, with the addition of 'confusion to his enemies,' and tossed up his cap with a loud huzza. 'Now friend,' said I, 'here is to a more humble, but still a sacred name — here is to Maria!'" This was a Scottish lady, we believe, a Miss Murray of Pol- maise, to whom Bruce had formed an attachment before leaving his native country. These ceremonies being completed, he entered the village of Geesh, and assumed for four days the sovereignty to which Fasil had given him a title. During this brief space he made forty observations as to the exact geographi- cal site of the fountain, and found it to be in north latitude lO u 59' 25', and 36 55' 30" east longitude, while its position was supposed from the barometer to be two miles above the level of the sea. Bruce left Geesh upon his return on the loth of November, and he arrived at Gondar, without any remarkable adventure, on the 17th. Here he found that Fasil had set a new insurrection on foot, and had been again unsuccessful. For some time great numbers of his adherents, or rather the adherents of a mock king whom he had set up, were daily sacrificed. Bruce was at first somewhat uneasy in this disagree- able scene, and the maxim of the Abyssinians, never to permit a stranger to quit the country, came full upon his mind. Early, however, in January 1771, he obtained the king's permission, on the plea of his health, to return home, though not without a pro- mise that he would come back when his health was re-established, bringing with him as many of his family as possible, with horses, muskets, and bayonets. Ere he could take advantage of this permission, fresli civil wars broke out, large provinces became dis- turbed, and Bruce found that, as he had had to take part in the national military operations in order to pave the way for reaching the head of the Nile, so was it now necessary that he should do his best for the suppression of the disturbances, that he might clear his way towards home. During the whole of the year 1771 he was engaged with the army, and he distinguished himself so highly as a warrior, that the king presented him with a massive gold chain, consisting of 1S4 links, each of them weighing 3 T V dwts. It was not till the 26th of December, thirteen months after his return from the source of the Nile, that he set out on his way towards Europe; nor even then was the country reduced to a peaceable condi- tion. He was accompanied by three Greeks, an old Turkish Janissary, a captain, and some common muleteers; the Italian artist Balugani having died at Gondar. On account of the dangers which he had experienced at Massuah from the barbarous naybe, he had resolved to return through the threat deserts of Nubia into Egypt, a tract by which he could trace the Nile in the greater part of its course. On the 23d of March, after a series of dreadful hardships, he reached Teawa, the capital of Abbara, and was introduced to the sheikh, who, it seemed, was unwell, though not so much so as to have lost any part of his ferocious disposition. Bruce here met with an adventure, which, as it displays his matchless presence of mind in a very brilliant light, may be here related. He had undertaken to administer medicine to the sheikh, who was in the alcove of a spacious room, sitting on a sofa surrounded by cur- tains. On the entrance of Bruce, he took two whiffs of his pipe, and when the slave had left the room said, "Are you prepared? Have you brought the money along with you?" Bruce replied, "My servants are at the other door, and have the vomit you wanted." "Curse you and the vomit too," cried the sheikh in great passion, "I want money and not poison. Where are your piastres?" "I am a bad person," replied Bruce, "to furnish you with either; I have neither money nor poison; but I advise you to drink a little warm water to clear your stomach, cool your head, and then lie down and compose yourself; I will see you to-morrow morning." Bruce was retiring when the sheikh exclaimed, "Hakim [physician], infidel, or devil, or whatever is your name, hearken to what I say. Consider where you are; this is the room where Mek Baady, a king, was slain by the hand of my father: look at his blood, where it has stained the floor, and can never be washed out. I am informed you have 20,000 piastres in gold with you; either give me 2000 before you go out of this chamber, or you shall die; I shall put you to death with my own hand." Upon this he took up his sword, which was lying at the head of his sofa, and drawing it with a bravado, threw the scabbard into the middle of the room, and, tucking the sleeve of his shirt above the elbow, like a butcher, he said, "I wait your answer." Bruce stepped one pace backwards, and laid his hand upon a little blunderbuss, without taking it off the belt. In a firm tone of voice he replied, "This is my answer: I am not a man to die like a beast by the hand of a drunkard; on your life, I charge you, stir not from your sofa. I had no need," says Bruce, "to give this injunction; he heard the noise which the closing of the joint in the stock of the blunderbuss made, and thought I had cocked it, and was instantly to fire. He let his sword drop, and threw himself on his back, upon the sofa, crying, 'For God's sake, hakim, I was but jesting.'" Brace turned from the cowed bully, and coolly wished him a good night. After being detained three weeks at this place, he set out for Sennaar, the capital of Nubia, which he reached at the end of April. He was here received kindly by the king, but the barbarous maxims of the country caused his detention for upwards of four months, during which the exhaustion of his funds caused him to sell the whole of his gold chain except a few links. At length, on the fifth of September, he commenced his journey across the great desert of Nubia, and then only, it might be said, began the true hardships of his expedition. As he advanced upon the sandy and burning plain, his provisions be- came exhausted, his camels and even his men perished by fatigue, and he was in the greatest danger, almost every day, of being swallowed up by the moving sandswhich loaded the breath of the deadly simoom. For weeks and months the miserable ] arty :■ iled through the desert, enduring hardships of which no denizen of a civilized state can form the least i lea. At last, on the 29th of December, ju-t as he had given his men the last meal which remained to them, and when all. of course, hail given themselves up lor lost, they came within hearing of the cataracts of the Nile,' and reached the town of Syene or Assouan, where succour in its amplest forms awaited them. Twelve dreadful week- Bruce had spent upon the desert: his journey from the cap tal ot Abyssinia to this point had altogether occupied eleven months. It was now cxactlv lour vears since lie had left civil- 196 JAMES BRUCE. ized society at Cairo; during all which time he had conversed only with barbarous tribes of people, from whose passions no man possessed of less varied accomplishment, less daring, and less address, could have possibly escaped. He sailed down the Nile to Cairo, which he reached on the 10th of January, 1773. He then sailed for Alexandria, whence he easily obtained a passage to Europe. Arriving at Marseilles in March, he was immediately visited and congratulated by a number of the French savaris, at the head of whom was his former friend, Count de BufTbn. For some time however, he was not suffi- ciently recovered from the debilitating effects of his journey to enjoy the polished society to which he was restored. A mental distress, moreover, had awaited his arrival in Europe. His Maria, whose health he had only postponed to that of his sovereign in drink- ing from the fountain of the Nile, despairing of his return, had given her hand to an Italian Marchese. Bruce withered under this disappointment more than under the sun of Nubia. In a transport of indigna- tion he travelled to Rome, and in a style of rodo- montade, only to be excused by a kind consideration of his impetuous and ingenuous character, called the Marchese to account for a transaction in which it was evident that only the lady could be to blame. The Marchese with Bruce's sword almost at his throat, disclaimed having married Maria with any knowledge of a previous engagement on her part: and with this Bruce had to rest satisfied. Mente a'.ta reposcit; his only resource was to bury his re- grets in his own proud bosom, and despise the love which could permit a question of time or space to affect it. In the summer of 1774 he returned to England, from which he had now been absent twelve years. His fame having gone before him, he was received with the highest distinction. He was introduced at court, where he presented to George III. those draw- ings of Palmyra, Baalbec, and the African cities, which his majesty had requested him to execute 1 lefore his departure from the country. The triumphs of this enterprising traveller were, however, soon dashed and embittered by the mean conduct of a people and age altogether unworthy of him. Bruce, wherever he went, was required to speak of what he had seen and suffered in the course of his travels. He related anecdotes of the Abyssinian and Nubian tribes, and gave descriptions of localities and natural objects, which certainly appeared wonderful to a civilized people, though only because they were novel: he related nothing either morally or physically impossible. Unfortunately, however, the stories of Bruce were at the very iir>t set down for imagi- nary tales, furnished forth by his own fancy. This view of the case was warmly taken up by a clique of literary men, who, without science themselves, and unchecked by science in others, then swayed the public mind. Even the country gentlemen in Scot- land could sneer at the "lies" of Bruce. His mind shrunk from the meanness of his fellows; and he retired, indignant and disappointed, to Kinnaird, where, for sometime, he busied himself in rebuilding his house, and arranging the concerns of his estate, which had become confused during his long absence. In March, 1776, he provided additional means of happiness and repose, by marrying, for his second wife, Mary Dundas, daughter of Thomas Dundas, Esq., of Fingask, and of Lady Janet Maitland, daughter of the Earl of Lauderdale. This amiable and accomplished person was much younger than Bruce, and it is rather a singular coincidence, remnrks Captain Head, that she was born in the same year in which his fir.^t wife had died. For nine years Bruce enjoyed too much domestic happiness to admit of his making a rapid progress in the preparation of his journals for the press. But after the death of his wife, in 1785, he applied to this task with more eagerness, as a means of diverting his melancholy. We have heard that in the composition of his book, he employed the assistance of a professional littera- teur, who first transcribed his journals into a con- tinuous narrative, and then wrote them over again, involving all the alterations, improvements, and additional remarks, which the traveller was pleased to suggest. The work appeared in 1790, seventeen years after his return to Europe. It consisted of five large quarto volumes, besides a volume of drawings, and was entitled Travels to Disccn>er the Sources of the Nile, in the years 1768, 1769, 1770, 1771, 1772, and 1773, by James Bruce, of Kinnaird, Esq., F.R.S. It was dedicated to the king; and it is but justice to the memory of that sovereign to state that, while society in general raised against it the cry of envy, jealousy, and ignorant incredulity, his majesty stood boldly up in its favour, and contended that it was a very great work. The king used to say, that, had it not been for the indecorous nature of certain passages, he could have wished to find it in the hands of all his subjects, and he would himself have placed a copy of it in every one of his palaces. The taste of this monarch did not perhaps lead him to expend great sums in patronizing the arts of the lighter branches of literature, but he certainly was qualified to appreciate, and also disposed to en- courage, any exertion on the part of his subjects which had a direct utility, and was consistent with honour and virtue. The magnum opus of Bruce was bought up by the public at its very first appearance; it required the whole of the impression to satisfy the first burst of public curiosity. It was, in the same year, translated into German and French. Bruce, in his latter years, lost much of his capa- bilities of enjoying life by his prodigious corpulence, which at last was indirectly the cause of his death. On the evening of the 27th of April, 1794, after he had entertained a large party at dinner, he was hur- rying to escort an old lady down stairs to her car- riage, when his foot — that foot which had carried him through so many dangers — slipped upon the steps; he tumbled down the stair, pitched upon his head, and was taken up speechless, with several of his fingers broken. He expired the same night, and was buried in the churchyard of his native parish of Larbert, where a monument indicates his last resting-place. To quote the character which has been written for him by Captain Head, "Bruce be- longed to that useful class of men who are ever ready 'to set their life upon a cast, and stand the hazard of the die.' He was merely a traveller — a knight- errant in search of new regions of the world; yet the steady courage with which he encountered danger — his patience and fortitude in adversity — his good sense in prosperity — the tact and judgment with which he steered his lonely course through some of the most barren and barbarous countries in the world, bending even the ignorance, passions, and prejudices of the people he visited to his own advantage — the graphic truth with which he described the strange scenes which he had witnessed, and the inflexible fortitude with which he maintained his assertions against the barbarous incredulity of his age, place him at the top of his own class, while he at least stands second to no man."' liruce understood French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese — the two former he could write and speak with facility. Besides Greek and Latin, which he read well, but not critically, he knew the I lebrew, Chaldce, and Syriac, and in the latter part of his life JAMES BRUCE MICHAEL BRUCE. 197 compared several portions of the Scripture in those re- lated dialects. He read and spoke with ease Arabic, Ethiopic, and Amharic, which had proved of the greatest service to him in his travels. It is said that the faults of his character were inordinate family pride, and a want of that power to accommodate one's self to the weaknesses of others, which is so important a qualification in a man of the world. But amidst the splendours of such a history, and such an intellect, a few trivial weaknesses — even allowing those to be so — are as motes in the meridian sun. A second edition of Brace's Travelswas published in 1805 by Dr. Alexander Murray, from a copy which the traveller himself had prepared to put to press. The first volume of this edition contains a biographical account of the author by Dr. Murray, whose learning well fitted him for so peculiar a task as that of re- vising Brute's Travels. BRUCE, James. See Elgin, Earl of. BRUCE, Michael, with whose name is associ- ated every regret that can be inspired by the early extinction of genius of a high order, still farther elevated by purity of life, was born at Kinnesswood, in the parish of Portmoak, Kinrosshire, on the 27th of March, 1746. His father, Alexander Bruce, a weaver, and his mother, whose name was also Bruce, were honest and pious Burghers; they had eight chil- dren, Michael being the fifth. Manifesting from his earliest years much delicacy of frame and quickness of parts, it was resolved to train him for the church; and after acquiring the elements of education at the school of his native parish and of Kinross, he was sent to the college of Edinburgh in 1762. Here he remained four years, devoting himself during the three first to those branches of learning pursued by what are called students of philosophy, and in the last applying also to the study of divinity. Before quitting Kinrosshire, he had given proofs of his predilection for poetry, which was encouraged by his friendship with Mr. Arnot, a farmer on the banks of Lochleven, who, to the piety and good sense common among those of his profession, added classical scholarship and an acquaintance with elegant literature. He directed Bruce to the perusal of Spenser, Shakspeare, and Milton, supplied him with the books, and became a judicious adviser in regard to his youthful essays in the poetic art. Mr. David Pearson, a man who read much with advantage, had also the taste to relish what Bruce had the talents to produce, and enjoyed his intimacy. After removing to Edinburgh, he lived in habits of close intercourse with Mr. George Henderson and Mr. William Dry- burgh, who opened to him their stores of books and information as they did their affections, and with Logan, whose congenial turn of mind made him the friend of Bruce in his lifetime, and his warm eulogist and editor of his works when he was no more. No one deserved better the attachment of those with whom he associated. "Xo less amiable as a man," says Logan, '"than valuable as a writer; endued with good nature and good sense; humane, friendly, be- nevolent; he loved his friends, and was beloved by them with a degree of ardour that is only experienced in the era of youth and innocence. - ' The prominent place he has given in his poems to those from whose society he had derived delight, shows how sincere was the regard he cherished for them. As if that none of the ties by which life is endeared should be wanting to him, Bruce had fixed his affections on a young woman, modest and beautiful, with whose parents he resided while teaching a school at Gairny Bridge. He has celebrated her under the name of Eumelia, in his pastoral of Alexis, and she was also the heroine of the only two songs he is known to have written. It appears that the parents of the poet entertained peculiarly rigid notions in regard to religion, and would have been seriously displeased if they had known that any part of their son's attention was oc- cupied by subjects apart from his theological studies. Bruce anxiously avoided giving these prejudices any cause of offence, and, when about to return home from college in 1765, took the precaution of trans- mitting to his friend Arnot those volumes of which he knew his father would disapprove. "I ask your pardon," says his letter on this occasion, "for the trouble I have put you to by these books I have sent. The fear of a discovery made me choose this method. I have sent Shakspeare's works, 8 vols., Pope's works, 4 vols., and Fontenelle's Plurality oj Worlds." Bruce acknowledges that he felt his poverty deeply when he saw books which he ardently desired to possess exposed to sale, and had not money to lay out in the purchase. The same regret has been ex- perienced by many a poor scholar; but few perhaps terminate their complaints in the same train of pious reflection. "How well," he says, "should my library be furnished, 'nisi obstat res angusta domi!' "My lot forbids; nor circumscribes alone My growing virtues, but my crimes confines." Whether any virtues should have accompanied me in a more elevated station is uncertain; but that a number of vices of which my sphere is incapable would have been its attendants is unquestionable. The Supreme Wisdom has seen this meet; and Supreme Wisdom cannot err." Even when prosecuting his favourite studies, Bruce is said to have been liable to that depression which is frequently the attendant of genius indeed, but in his case was also the precursor of a fatal disease. In December 176411c wrote to his friend Arnot, — "I am in health, excepting a kind of settled melancholy, for which I cannot account, that has seized on my spirits." Such seems to have been the first imperfect announcement of his consciousness that all was not well with him. It would be a mournful task, if it were possible, to trace the gradations by which his apprehensions strengthened and grew into that cer- tainty which only two years after this produced the Elegy, in which so pathetically, yet so calmly, he anticipates his own death. In these years are under- stood to have been written the greater part of his poems which have been given to the public. He spent the winters at college, and the summer in earning a small pittance by teaching a school, first at Gairny Bridge, and afterwards at Forrest Mill, near Alloa. In this latter place he had hoped to be happy, but was not — having, he confesses, been too sanguine in his expectations. He wrote here Loch- leven, the longest of his poems, which closes with these affecting lines: — "Thus sung the youth, amid unfertile wilds And nameless deserts, unpoetic gr ur Far from his friends he stray'd, re • ling thus The dear remembrance of his i ative ' To cheer the tedious night, wl 1'rev'd on his pining vitals, an I tin '- Of dark December shook his humble c t." A letter to Mr. Pearson, written in the same month in which he finished this poem, affords .1 still closer and more touching view of the struggle which he now maintained against growing disease, the want of comforts and of friendly 1 tion. *T lead a melancholy kind of lite." lie -.v.-. "in this place. I am not fond of company; but it i- not good that a man be still alone: and here 1 can have no com- igS MICHAEL BRUCE. pany but what is worse than solitude. If I had not a lively imagination, I believe I should fall into a state of stupidity and delirium. I have some evening scholars; the attending on whom, though few, so fatigues me, that the rest of the night I am quite dull and low-spirited. Yet I have some lucid intervals, in the time of which I can study prettv well." "In the autumn of 1766," says Dr. Anderson, "his constitution — which was ill calculated to en- counter the austerities of his native climate, the ex- ertions of daily labour, and the rigid frugality of humble life — began visibly to decline. Towards the end of the year, his ill health, aggravated by the in- digence of his situation, and the want of those com- forts and conveniences which might have fostered a delicate frame to maturity and length of days, terminated in a deep consumption. During the winter he quitted his employment at Forrest Mill, and with it all hopes of life, and returned to his native village to receive those attentions and consola- tions which his situation required, from the anxiety of parental affection and the sympathy of friendship. Convinced of the hopeless nature of his disease, and feeling himself every clay declining, he contemplated the approaches of death with calmness and resigna- tion, and continued at intervals to compose verses and to correspond with his friends." Bruce lingered through the winter, and in spring wrote that elegy, "the latter part of which," says Logan, "is wrought up into the most passionate strains of the true pathetic, and is not perhaps in- ferior to any poetry in any language." How truly this is said there are few that do not know; but they who have read it often will not be fatigued by read- ing it again. "Now Spring returns; but not to me returns The vernal j >y my better years have known: Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health arc flown. "Starting and shivering in th' inconstant wind, Meagre and pale, the ghost of what I was, Beneath some blasted tree I lie reclined, And count the silent moments as they pass: ''The winged moments, whose unstaying speed No art can stop or in their course arrest; Whose flight shall shortly count me with the dead, And lay me down in peace with them that rest. "Oft morning dreams presage approaching fate; And morning dreams, as poets tell, are true; Led by pale ghosts, I enter death's dark gate, And bid the realms of light and life adieu. " I hear the helpless wail, the shriek of woe; I see the mud ly wave, the dreary shore, The sluggish streams that slowly creep below, Which mortals visit and return no more. ''Farewell, ye blooming fields! ye cheerful plain-' Knough for me the chun hyard's lonely mound, Where melancholy with still silence reigns, And the rank grass waves o'er the cheerless ground. ''There let me wander at the i lose of eve, When sleep sits dewy on the labourer's eyes, The world and it- busy follies leave. And talk with wisdom where my Daphnis lie-.. "There let me sleep f >rg ittcn in the clay. When death shall shut these weary aching eye-, Rest in the hope of an eternal day. Till the long night is gone, and the last morn arise." These were the last verses finished by the author. His strength was wasted gradually awny, and he died on the 6th of July, 1767, in the twenty-first year of his age. What he might have accomplished had longer years been assigned to him, it wen- need- less to conjecture; but of all the sons of genius cut off by an early death, there is none whose fate excites so tender a regret. His claims to admiration are great without any counteracting circumstance. "Nothing," says Lord Craig, after a brief allusion to the leading facts of Brace's life — "Nothing, methinks, has more the power of awakening bene- volence than the consideration of genius thus de- pressed by situation, suffered to pine in obscurity, and sometimes, as in the case of this unfortunate young man, to perish, it may be, for want of those comforts and conveniences which might have fostered a delicacy- of frame or of mind ill calculated to bear the hardships which poverty lays on both. For my own part, I never pass the place (a little hamlet skirted with old ash-trees, about two miles on this side of Kinross) where Michael Bruce resided — I never look on his dwelling (a small thatched house distinguished from the cottages of the other inhabit- ants only by a sashed window at the end, instead of a lattice, fringed with a honeysuckle plant which the poor youth had trained around it) — I never find myself in that spot but I stop my horse involun- tarily, and looking on the window, which the honey- suckle has now almost covered, in the dream of the moment, I picture out a figure for the gentle tenant of the mansion. I wish — and my heart swells while I do so — that he were alive, and that I were a great man to have the luxury of visiting him there, and of bidding him be happy." Three years after Bruce's death his poems were given to the world by Logan, who unfortunately mingled with them some of his own, and never gave any explanation by which these might be distin- guished. This led to a controversy between their respective friends in regard to the authorship of a few pieces, into which it would be unprofitable to enter here, as the fame of Bruce is no way affected whichever way the dispute be decided. The atten- tion of the public having been called to the volume by Lord Craig, in the thirty-sixth number of the Mirror, in 1779, a second edition was published in 1784; Dr. Anderson gave Bruce's works a place in his Collection of British Poets, and prefixed to them a memoir from which are derived the materials of the present sketch; and finally the unwearied bene- volence of Principal Baird brought forward an edition in 1807 by subscription, for the benefit of the poet's mother. He could not restore her son to be the support of her old age, but made all that remained of him contribute to that end — one of the numberless deeds which now reflect honour upon his memory. Perhaps Bruce's fame as a poet has been injured by the sympathy which his premature death excited, and by the benevolent purpose which recommended the latest edition of his works to public patronage. Pity and benevolence are strong emotions; and the mind is commonly content with one strong emotion at a time; he who purchased a book, that he might promote the comfort of the author's mother procured for himself, in the mere payment of the price, a pleasure more substantial than could be derived from the contemplation of agreeable ideas; and he would either be satisfied with it and go no farther, or carry it with him into the perusal of the book, the beauties of which would fail to produce the same effect as if they had found his mind unoccupied. But these poems, nevertheless, display talents of the first order. Logan says of them that, "if images of nature that are beautiful and new; if sentiments warm from the heart, interesting and pathetic; if a style chaste with ornament, and elegant with simplicity; if these, and many other beauties of nature and of art, are allowed to constitute true poetic merit, they will stand high in the judgment of men of taste." There is no part ot this eulogy overstrained; but perhaps the most remarkable points in the compositions of Bruce, ROBERT BRUCE. 199 considering his extreme youth, are the grace of his expression and melody of his verses. Flashes of brilliant thought we may look for in opening genius, but we rarely meet with a sustained polish. The reader who glances but casually into these poems will be surprised to find how many of those familiar phrases recommended to universal use by their beauty of thought and felicitous diction which every one quotes, while no one knows whence they are taken— we owe to Michael Bruce. As to his larger merits the reader may judge from the union of majesty with tenderness which characterizes the elegy already quoted. The poem of Lochleven affords many passages worthy of higher names. We know not in the compass of English poetry a more beautiful image than is presented in the following lines: — "Behold the village rise In rural pride, 'mong intermingled trees! Above whose aged tops the joyful swains, At eventide descending from the hill, With eye enamour'd mark the many wreaths Of pillar'd smoke, high curling to the clouds." BRUCE, Robert, Earl of Carrick, afterwards King of Scots, and the most heroic as well as the most patriotic monarch which Scotland ever pro- duced, was born on the 2ist of March, 1274. He was the grandson of Robert Bruce, lord of Annan- dale, who in 1 29 1 contested the right to the crown with John Baliol. The events which followed upon the decision of that momentous question are else- where detailed to the reader (in the preceding life of John Baliol, and the subsequent one of William Wallace); it is therefore unnecessary to advert to them in this place, unless in so far as they have reference to the family of Bruce, and in particular to the illustrious individual now under notice. Upon the decision of Edward I. in favour of Baliol, the grandfather of King Robert, being pos- sessed of extensive estates in the north of England, resigned the lordship of Annandale to his eldest son, on purpose, it may be supposed, to evade the humi- liating necessity of doing homage to his successful rival. No other particular regarding him is known: he died at the family residence of Lochmaben, not long after, at the advanced age of eighty-five. Robert Bruce, the son of the competitor and father of King Robert, became possessed, by this last event, of the English as well as of the Scottish estates be- longing to his family. He had also acquired, in right of his wife, the heiress of Carrick, the earldom of that name, 1 and, in every respect, might justly be 1 The circumstances attending this alliance, related by Mr. Tytler, were of a romantic and singular description. '"It appears that a short time after his return from the crusade, Bruce was riding through the beautiful domains of Turnberry Castle, the property of the widowed Countess of Carrick; who, in consequence of the death of her husband, had become a ward of the crown. The noble baron, however, if we may believe an ancient historian, cannot be accused of having visited Turnberry with any design of throwing himself in the way of the heiress of Carrick; and indeed any such idea in those days of jealous wardship would have been highly dan- gerous. It happened, however, that the ladv herself, whose ardent and impetuous temper was not much in love with the seclusion of a feudal castle, had come out to take the diversion of the chase, accompanied by her women, huntsmen, and f tlconers; and this gay cavalcade came suddenly upon Bruce, as he pursued his way through the forest, alone and unarmed. The knight would have spurred his horse forward, and avoided the encounter, but he found himself surrounded by the atten- dants; and the counters herself riding up. and with gentle violence taking hold of his horse's rein-;, reproached him in so sweet a tone for his want of gallantry in flying from a lady's castle, that Bruce, enamoured of her beauty, forgot the risk which he run, and suffered himself to be led away in a kind of triumph to Turnberry. He here remained f >r fifteen days, and the adventure concluded, as might have been anticipated, by his privately espousing the youthful countess without having obtained the concurrence of the king, or of any of her relations." considered one of the most powerful barons in the kingdom. Either from disinclination, or, as some have suspected, from motives of policy, Robert Bruce, the second of the name, early avoided taking any share in the affairs of Scotland. When his son was yet a minor, he made resignation to him of the earldom of Carrick, and shortly thereafter, retiring into England, left the administration of his ancient patrimony of Annandale in the same hands. During the ill-concerted and disastrous revolt of Baliol in 1296, the Braces maintained their allegiance to the English king. The lordship of Annandale was, in consequence, hastily declared forfeited, and the rich inheritance bestowed by Baliol upon John Comyn, Earl of Buchan, who immediately seized upon and occupied the castle of Eochmaben; an injury which, there is reason to believe, the young Earl of Carrick, long after, but too well remembered, and fatally repaid. It is asserted that Edward, in order to gain securely the fidelity and assistance of the lord of Annandale and his son, had promised to bestow upon the former the kingdom of which Baliol was now to be dis- possessed. It is not probable that the English monarch ever seriously entertained such an intention, and still less likely, if he did, that in the flush of successful conquest he should be capable of putting it in execution. After the decisive battle of Dunbar, Bruce reminded Edward of his promise: "Have I no other business," was the contemptuous reply, "but to conquer kingdoms for you?" The elder Bruce once more retired to his estate in England, where he passed the remainder of his days; and the Earl of Carrick was commissioned to receive in the name of the English king the homage of his own and his father's vassals. So unpromising were, in their commencement, the fortunes of him upon whom the fortunes of Scotland were finally to depend. In the Scots parliament which Edward assembled at Berwick for the settlement of his new conquest, he received the homage of great numbers of the clergy and laity, and among the rest of the Earl of Carrick, who probably dared not incur even the suspicion of the English king. His large estates extending be- tween the firths of Clyde and Sohvay, and bordering upon England; the number of his connections and dependants, rendered still more formidable by the discomfiture and depression of the rival family; to say nothing of the personal talents of the young earl himself, must have rendered him liable to the jealous scrutiny of so politic a sovereign as Edward. On the other hand, the residence of the elder Bruce in Eng- land, and the great property possessed by the family in that kingdom, were an actual guarantee in the hands of Edward of the Bruces' loyalty; nor is it unlikely that he would be swayed by a wise policy in attaching to himself that party in the state from whom he had most to fear. Forbearance on the one side, and submissiveness on the other, were probably dictated to each by opposite though equally strong convictions of expediency. During the noble stand of Wallace against the national defection, the Earl of Carrick. though he remained inactive, was not overlooked by the j< eye of the English government. '1 he !!;>:. Carlisle and other barons, to whom the peace ot the western districts was committed, became suspicious of his fidelity, and summoned him to appear before them, when he made oath on the sacred host and the sword of St. Thomas, to be faithful and vi; in the service of Edward. To evince his sincerity, he immediately after laid waste the lands of Sir William Doug'las, carrying the wile and family of that knight prisoners 11. to Annandale. Probably ROBERT BRUCE. this enterprise was merely a pretext for assembling his military retainers; for he had no sooner collected them than he abandoned the English interests, and joined the army of the Scots; alleging, in vindication of his conduct, that his late solemn oath had been extorted from him by force, and that the pope would, he doubted not, absolve him from its observance. Bruce did not remain long faithful to his new allies. A few months after, at the capitulation of Irvine, he made his peace with Edward, giving what sureties "were required for his future loyalty. The signal success achieved by the Scots at Stir- ling, induced Bruce once more to join the national cause; but the Comyns, now the principal rivals of his family for the vacant throne, being at the same time opposed to Edward, he seems to have prudently avoided taking any active share in the contest. Refusing to join the army, he shut himself up in Ayr castle, by this means ostensibly preserving the communication open between Galloway and the western Highlands. On the approach of Edward into the west, after the battle of Falkirk, the earl, after destroying the fortress, found it necessary to retire. Displeased as the English king had reason to be with the vacillating conduct of Bruce at this juncture, he did not chastise it otherwise than by taking temporary possession of Lochmaben castle, the fortified patrimonial inheritance of the family. Among the confiscations of property which followed, Annandale and Carrick remained unalienated, a favour which the younger Bruce probably owed to the fidelity and services of his father in the English cause. In the year 1299, not long after the fatal issue of the battle of Falkirk, we find the Karl of Carrick asso- ciated with John Comyn, the younger of Badenoch, in the regency of Scotland. The motives of Bruce in thus leaguing himself with a rival, with whom he never hitherto had acted in concert, have been variously represented, and the fact itself has even been called in question. The consciousness of having lost the confidence of the English king, and a desire, mutually entertained, to destroy the authority of Wallace, which but too well succeeded, could not but influ- ence powerfully the conduct of both parties. This object accomplished, Bruce seems to have once more resumed his inactive course of policy, relinquishing to the, perhaps, le.-s wary Comyn, the direction of the hazardous power which he seemed so willing to wield. In the following year Edward again invaded Scotland, laid waste the districts of Annandale and Carrick, and once more possessed himself of the castle of Lochmaben. Bruce, though on this occa- sion he was almost the only sufferer, cautiously avoided, by any act of retaliation or effective co-opera- tion with Comyn, to widen irremediably the breach with Edward; an 1 we find, that prior to the advan- tage gained by his coadjutor at Rosslyn, he had returned once more to the interests of the English party. The victorious campaign of Edward, which, in 1304, ended in a more complete subjugation of Scotland than he had hitherto been able to effect, justified the prudent foresight, though it tarnished the patriotic fame, of the Earl of ( iarrick. 1 lis luke- warmness in the cause of the regency, and timely defalcation from it, procured his pardon upon easy terms, and seemed to restore to him, in a great measure, the confidence of Edward, with which he- had so repeatedly dared to trifle. His father, the lord of Annandale dying at this critical time, the young Bruce was allowed to inherit the whole exten- sive estates of his family in both kingdoms; and so unequivocally, indeed, had he recovered the favour of the English monarch, that he wi, held worthy of advising and aiding in the settlement of Scotland as a province under the rule of England. Comyn, who had acted throughout with sincerity and constancy in the trust reposed in him, and whose submission had been a matter of necessity, was subjected to a heavy fine, and fell, in proportion to his rival's eleva- tion, in the confidence and estimation of the king. The versatility of Bruce's conduct during these various changes and reverses, has been variously commented upon by historians, as they have been led to consider it in a moral or political point of view; and, indeed, in whatever way it may be explained, it forms a singular contrast to the honourable, bold, and undeviating career of his after-life. In extenua- tion of such obvious derelictions from principle and consistency, we must take into account the effects of peculiar circumstances upon a mind that has been irresistibly devoted to the attainment of some great and engrossing object. That natural irresoluteness, too, by which the boldest spirit may be beset, while meditating the decisive plunge into a hazardous enterprise, may cause a seeming vacillation of pur- pose, arising more from a deep sense of the import- ance of the venture, than from fear of the conse- quences. That Bruce should early entertain a per- suasion that his family were justly entitled to the throne was every way natural, and we have already noticed, that hopes of their actually attaining to it were held out by Edward himself to the lord of Annandale. Nurtured and strengthened in such feel- ing, the young aspirant to royalty could not be ex- pected to entertain attachment to the house of Baliol; and must have regarded with still greater aversion the sovereignty usurped by England over the rights and pretensions of all his race. During the struggle, therefore, of those contending interests — the indepen- dence of Scotland under Baliol, or its subjugation under Edward — he necessarily remained more in the situation of a neutral, than an active partisan; the success of either party involving in an almost in- different degree the high claims, and, it might be, the existing fortunes of his house. Taking these considerations into account, there is little difficulty in reconciling to itself the line of con- duct which Bruce had hitherto pursued. By joining heartily with neither party, he prudently avoided committing the fortunes of his family to the hazard of utter destruction, and his right and influence could give, upon any emergency, a necessary and required preponderance to either side. He must have foreseen, too, with secret satisfaction, the consequences which would result to his own advantage from a contest in which the strength and resources of his rivals were mutually wasted, whilst his own energies remained entire, and ready on any favourable opportunity to be called decisively into action. That these were not exerted sooner, the existence of his father down to this period, and his submission to the English govern- ment, may suggest a sufficient reason; and his own accession to the regency, in the name of the deposed Baliol, was a circumstance which could not but affect unfavourably, during its continuance, the assertion of his pretensions. Meantime, while Bruce outwardly maintained the semblance of loyalty to Edward, he was not idle in secretly advancing the objects of his own ambition; and when actually engaged in assisting Edward in the settlement of the Scottish government, he entered into a secret bond of association with Lamberton, bishop of St. Andrews, whereby the parties became bound to aid each other against all persons whatever, ami not to undertake any business of moment unless by mutual advice. Xo measure on the part of Bruce could be more politic than that of enlisting the ROBERT BRUCE. church in his cause, and the reader may afterwards have occasion to remark that he owed his success more to the firm adherence of churchmen than to all the efforts of the nobility. Lamberton and his colleagues were more alarmed at the prospect of being subjected to the spiritual supremacy of York or Canterbury, than concerned for the temporal sub- jugation of their country; and thus, in the minds of the national clergy, the independency of the church became intimately associated with the more general cause of popular freedom. In addition to the spiritual power of Lamberton, the aid which he could furnish by calling out the military retainers upon the church lands was far from inconsiderable. Though we are not informed of any other similar contract to the above having been entered into between Bruce and his partisans, there can be little doubt that this was not the only one, and that he neglected no ex- pedient to promote his enterprise. Notwithstanding, however, all the caution displayed in these pre- paratory measures, the better genius of Bruce seems to have deserted him when its guidance was most required. Before entering upon this important event, it will be necessary to state the relative position of the two great parties in the kingdom as opposed to each other. John Baliol, supposing his title to have been well founded, had repeatedly renounced all pretensions to the crown of Scotland, and had for several years remained a voluntary exile in France. He was to be considered, therefore, as having not only formally, but virtually, forfeited all claim to the kingdom. His son Edward was at that time a minor and a captive. John Comyn, commonly called the Red Comyn, was the son of Marjory, the sister of Baliol, and, setting Baliol aside, was the heir of the pretensions of their common ancestor. As regent of Scotland and leader of her armies, Comyn had main- tained for many years the unequal contest with Edward; and he had been the last to lay down his arms and accept conditions of peace. Though the terms of his submission had been rigorous, he was yet left in possession of large estates, a numerous vassalage, and, what in that warlike age was of con- sequence, an approved character for courage and conduct in the held. Plausible as were Comyn's claims to the crown, and powerfully as these might have been supported against England, there was little likelihood, that in a competition with Bruce, they could ever finally have prevailed. That family, according to the ancient usage of the kingdom, ought to have been preferred originally to that of Baliol; and this fact, generally known and acknowledged as it could not fail to be, would, had they chosen to take advantage of it, have rendered their cause, at any time, a popu- lar one. The award of Edward, from the conse- quences that followed it, had become odious to the nation; and the pusillanimity and misfortunes of the abdicated king would leave, however undeservedly, their stigma upon his race. It was a curious enough illustration ot the deep-rooted existence of such a feeling, that, nearly a century afterwards, a King of Scotland who happened to possess the same unfor- tunate name of John, saw fit upon his coronation to change it for another, less ominous of evil in the recollections of his subjects. We have seen that Bruce at this crisis was possessed of those advan- tages unimpared, of which the other, in the late struggle, had been, in a great measure, deprived; and there is reason to believe that Comyn, whose conduct had been consistent and honourable, felt himself injured and indignant at a preference which he might suppose his rival had unworthily earned. Thus, under impressions of wrong, and filled with jealous apprehensions, the Red Comyn might l>e pre- sumed willing, upon any inviting occasion, to treat Bruce as an enemy whom it was his interest to cir- cumvent or destroy. The league into which Bruce had entered with Lamberton, and perhaps other transactions of a similar nature, were not so secretly managed, as to be unsuspected; and this is said to have led to an important conference between these rivals on the subject of their mutual pretensions. At this meeting, Bruce, after describing the miserable effects of the enmity between their different families, by which they themselves were not only deprived of station, but their country of freedom, proposed, as the Ixrst means of remedy, that they should henceforward enter into a good understanding with each other. "Support my title to the crown," he is represented to have said, "and I will give you my lands; or, give me your lands and I will support your claim.'' Comyn agreed to waive his right, and accept the lands; and the conditions having been drawn up in form of indenture, were sealed by both parties, and confirmed by their mutual oaths of fidelity and secrecy. Bruce shortly afterwards repaired to the English court, and whilst there, Comyn, probably from the design of mining a rival whom he secretly feared and detested, revealed the conspiracy to Edward. The king, upon receiving this information, thought fit to dissemble his belief in its veracity. With a shrewd- ness and decision, however, peculiar to his character, he frankly questioned Bruce upon the truth of Comyn's accusation, adducing at the same time .the letters and documents which he had received as evidences of the fact. The earl, much as he might feel staggered at the sudden disclosure of Comyn's treachery, had recollection enough to penetrate the immediate object of the king, and presence of mind to baffle it. Though taken so completely by sur- prise, he betrayed no outward signs of guilt, and suc- ceeded by his judicious answers in re-establishing to all appearance the confidence of the crafty monarch, who had, indeed, his reasons for this seeming re- liance, but who all along was too suspicious to be convinced. He had, in fact, determined upon the earl's ruin; and, having one evening drank freely, was indiscreet enough to disclose his intentions. The Earl of Gloucester, a kinsman of Bruce, chanced either to be present, or to have early notice of his friend's danger, and, anxious to save him, yet not daring to compromise his own safety, he sent to him a pair of gilded spurs and a few pieces of money, as if he had borrowed them from him the day l>efore. Danger is an acute interpreter, and Bruce divined that the counsel thus symbolically communicated warned him to instant flight. Taking his mea-ures. therefore, with much privacy, and accompanied by his secretary and one groom, he set out for Scotland. On approaching the western marches, the}- enc un- tered a messenger on foot, whose deportment struck them as suspicious. He was searched, and proved to be an emissary sent by Comyn with letters to the King of England. The man was killed upon the spot; and Bruce, with these proofs of the perfidy ol his rival, pressed forward to his castle <•: I.oJimaben. which he is reported to have readied on the lilt.Ii day after his precipitate flight from I : n. These events occurred in the month <>1 february.^ 1306; at which time, according to a regulation ot the new government, certain English judges were holding their courts at Dumfries. 'I hither Bruce immediately repaired, and finding C<>myn in the town, requested a private interview with him, which ROBERT BRUCE. was accorded; but, either from some inward doubts on the one side, or a desire to give assurance of safety on the other, the meeting took place near the high altar in the convent of the Minorite Friars. Bruce is said to have here passionately reproached Comyn for his treachery, to which the other answered by flatly giving him the lie. The words were scarcely uttered, when the earl, giving vent to the fury which he had hitherto restrained, drew his dagger and stabbed, but not mortally, his unguarded opponent. Instantly hastening from the church, he called to his attendants for his horse. Lindsay and Kirkpatrick, by whom he had been accompanied, seeing him pale and agitated, anxiously inquired the cause. "I doubt I have slain Comyn," replied the earl. "You doubt" cried Kirkpatrick fiercely, "Lse mak sicker" and rushing into the sanctuary, he found Comyn still alive, but helpless and bleeding, upon the steps of the high altar. The dying victim was ruthlessly despatched on the sacred spot; and, almost at the same moment, Sir Robert Comyn, the uncle, entering the convent upon the noise and alarm of the scuffle, shared his fate. The tumult had now become general throughout the town; and the judges who held their court in a hall of the castle, not knowing what to fear, but believing their lives to be in danger, hastily barricaded the doors. Bruce, assembling his followers, surrounded the castle, and threatening to force an entrance with fire, obliged those within to surrender, and permitted them to depart in safety from Scotland. That this fatal event fell out in the reckless passion of the moment, there can be no doubt. Coaded as he had been to desperation by the ruin impending over him, and even insulted personally by the man who had placed him in such jeopardy, Bruce dared hardly, in that age of superstition, to have com- mitted an act of sacrilegious murder. In the imper- fectly arranged .state of his designs, without concert among his friends, or preparation for defence, the assassination of the first noble in the land, even without its peculiar aggravations, could not but have threatened the fortune of his cause with a brief and fatal issue. He knew, himself, that the die of his future life was now cast; and that his only alternative was to be a fugitive or a king. Without hesitation, be at once determined to assert his claim to the Scotti--h crown. When Bruce thus adopted a desperate chance of extrication and future honour, he had not a single fortress at his command besides those two patri- monial ones of Lochmaben and Kildrummie; the latter situated in Aberdeenshire, at too great a distance from the scene of action to prove of service. He had prepared no system of offensive warfare, nor did it seem that, in the beginning, he should be even able to maintain himself on the defensive. Three earls only, those of Lennox, Krrol, and A thole, joined his standard; Randolph, the nephew of Bruce, who afterwards became the renowned Karl of Moray; Christopher of Seton, his brother-in-law; Sir James Douglas, whose fate became afterwards so interest- ingly associated with that of his master; and about ten other barons then of little note, but who were destined to lay the foundations of some of the most honourable families in the kingdom, constituted, with the brothers of the royal adventurer, the almost sole power against which such fearful odds were presently to be directed — the revenge of the wi lely-connccted house off iomyn, the overwhelming force of Lngland, and the fulminations of the church. Without other resource than his own undaunted resolution, and the untried fidelity and courage of his little band, Bruce ascended the throne of his ancestors, at Scone, on the 27th day of March, 1306. The coronation was performed with what state the exigency of the moment permitted. The Bishop of Glasgow supplied from his own wardrobe the robes in which Robert was arrayed on the occasion; and a slight coronet of gold was made to serve in absence of the heredi- tary crown, which, along with the other symbols of royalty, had been carried off by Edward into England. A banner, wrought with the arms of Baliol, was delivered by the Bishop of Glasgow to the new king, beneath which he received the homage of the earls and knights by whom he was attended. The Earls of Fife, from a remote antiquity, had possessed the privilege of crowning the kings of Scotland; but at this time, Duncan, the representa- tive of that family, favoured the English interest. His sister, however, the Countess of Buchan, with a boldness characteristic of the days of chivalry, secretly repaired to Scone, and asserted the preten- sions of her ancestors. It is not unlikely that this circumstance added to the popular interest felt for the young sovereign. The crown was a second time placed on the head of Bruce by the hands of the countess; who was afterwards doomed to suffer, through a long series of insult and oppression, for the patriotic act which has preserved her name to posterity. Edward resided with his court at Winchester when tidings of the murder of Comyn and the revolt of Bruce reached his ears. That monarch, whose long career of successful conquest was once again to be endangered, had reached that period of life when peace and tranquillity even to the most indomitable become not only desirable but coveted blessings. The great natural strength of his con- stitution had, besides, ill withstood the demands which long military service and the violent cravings of ambition had made upon it. He was become of unwieldy bulk, and so infirm in his limbs as to be unable to mount on horseback. Yet the spirit which had so strongly actuated the victor on former occa- sions did not now desert him. He immediately despatched a message to the pope, demanding, in aid of his own temporal efforts, the assistant thunder of the holy see, a requisition with which Clement V., who had formerly been the subject of Edward, readily complied. The sentence of excommunication was denounced against Bruce and all his adherents, and their possessions placed under the dreaded ban of interdict. The garrison towns of Berwick and Carlisle were strengthened; and the Earl of Bern- broke, who was appointed guardian, was ordered to proceed against the rebels in Scotland, at the head of a small army, hastily collected, for the occa- sion. Those were but preparatory measures. Upon Edward's arrival in London, he conferred knight- hood upon his son the Prince of Wales, and nearly three hundred young men selected from families of rank throughout the kingdom; and conducted the ceremony with a pomp well calculated to rouse the martial ardour of his subjects. At a splendid banquet to which his nobility and the new-made knights were invited, the aged king is recorded to have made a solemn vow to the God of heaven, that he would execute severe vengeance upon Bruce for his daring outrage against God and his church; declaring, that when he had performed this duty, he would never more unsheath his sword against a Christian enemy; but should devote the rest of his days to waging war against the Saracens for the recovery of the Holy Land, thence never to return. Addressing his son, he made him promise, that, should he (lit: before the accomplishment of his revenge, he should carry his body with the army, and not commit it to the ROBERT BRUCE. 203 earth, until a complete victory over his enemies should be obtained. Pembroke, the English guardian, marching his small army upon Perth, a walled and strongly forti- fied town, established there his head-quarters. Bruce, during the short interval since his coronation, had not been altogether unsuccessful in recruiting the numbers of his followers; nor did he think it prudent to delay engaging this portion of the English forces, greatly superior as they were, in every respect, to his own. On drawing near Perth, he sent a challenge, according to the chivalrous practice of the age, defy- ing the English commander to battle in the open field. Pembroke returned for answer, that the day was too far spent, but that he would be ready to join battle on the morrow. Satisfied with this assurance, Robert drew off his army to the neighbour- ing wood of Methven, where he encamped for the night; parties were dispersed in search of provi- sions, and the others, throwing aside their armour, made the necessary arrangements for repose. By a very culpable neglect, or a most unwarrantable reliance on the promise of the English earl, the customary watches against surprise were either al- together omitted, or very careless in their duty. Pembroke being made aware of the negligent posture of the Scottish troops, drew out his forces from Perth, and gaining the unguarded encampment, succeeded in throwing the whole body into irre- mediable confusion. The Scots made but a feeble resistance, and were soon routed and dispersed. Philip de Mowbray is said to have unhorsed Bruce, whom he seized, calling aloud that he had got the new-made king; when Robert was gallantly rescued from his perilous situation by Sir Christopher Seton, his brother-in-law. Another account affirms that Robert was thrice unhorsed in the conflict, and thrice remounted by Sir Simon Frazer. So des- perate, indeed, were the personal risks of the king on that disastrous night, that, for a time, being totally unsupported, he was made prisoner by John de Haliburton, a Scotsman in the English army, but who set him at liberty on discovering who he was. To have sustained even a slight defeat at the present juncture would have proved of incalculable injury to Brace's cause: the miserable overthrow at Methven seemed to have terminated it for ever. Several of his truest and bravest friends were made prisoners, among whom were Haye, Barclay, Erazer, Inchmartin, Sommerville, and Randolph. With about 500 men, all that he was able to muster from the broken remains of his army, Bruce pene- trated into the mountainous country of Athole. In this small, but attached band, he still numbered the Marls of Athole and Errol, Sir James Douglas, Sir Neil Campbell, and his own brave brothers, Edward and Nigel. Reduced to the condition of proscribed and hunted outlaws, they endured the extremity of hardships among the barren fastnesses to which they retreated for shelter. The .season, it being then the middle of summer, rendered such a life, for a time, possible; but as the weather became less favourable, and their wants increased, they were constrained to descend into the low country of Aberdeenshire. Here Robert met with his queen and many other ladies who had fled thither for safety; and who, with an affectionate fortitude, resolved, in the com- pany of their fathers and husbands, to brave the same evils with which they found them encompassed. The respite which the royal party here enjoyed was of brief duration. Learning that a superior body of English was advancing upon them, they were forced to leave the low country and take refuge in the mountainous district of Breadalbane. To these savage retreats they were accompanied by the queen and the other ladies, and again had the royalists to sustain, under yet more distressing circumstances, the rigorous severity of their lot. Hunting and fish- ing were the precarious, though almost their only means of sustaining life; and the good Sir James Douglas is particularly noticed by the minute Barbour for his success in these pursuits, and his devoted zeal in procuring every possible comfort for his forlorn and helpless companions. While the royalists thus avoided immediate peril from one quarter, by abiding in those natural strong- holds, they almost inevitably came in contact with another. The lord of Lorn, upon the borders of whose territories they lay, was nearly connected by marriage with the family of the murdered Comyn; and, as might be expected, entertained an implacable hatred towards the Scottish king. Having early intelligence of the vicinity, numbers, and destitution of the fugitive royalists, this powerful baron collected a body of nearly a thousand men well acquainted with the country, and besetting the passes, obliged the king to come to battle in a narrow defile where the horse of the party were rather a hindrance than a help. Considerable loss was sustained on the king's side, and Sir James Douglas and De la Haye were both wounded. Bruce, dreading the total de- struction of his followers, ordered a retreat; and himself taking post in the rear, by desperate courage, strength, and activity, succeeded in checking the fury of the pursuers, and in extricating his party. The place of this memorable contest is still pointed out, and remembered by the name of Dairy, or the king's field. The almost incredible displays of personal prowess and address which Robert made on this occasion, are reported to have drawn forth the admiration even of his deadly enemies. In one of those repeated assaults which he was obliged to make in order to check the assailants, he was beset, all at once, by three armed antagonists. This occurred in a pass, formed by a loch on the one side, and a precipitous bank on the other, and so narrow as scarcely to allow two horses to ride abreast. One seized the king's horse by the bridle, but by a blow, which lopped off his arm, was almost instantly disabled. Another got hold of the rider's foot within the stirrup-iron with the purpose of unhorsing him; but the king, standing up in the stirrup, and urging his steed forward, dragged the unfortunate assailant to the ground. The third person leaped up behind him in hope of pinioning his arms and making him prisoner, or of despatching him with his dagger; but turning round, and exerting his utmost strength, Robert forced him forwards upon the horse's neck and slew him; after which he killed the helpless wretch who still dragged at his side. Barbour, the ancient authority by whom this deed ot desperate valour is recorded, has contrived, whether intention- ally or not, to throw an air of probability over it. The laird of Macnaughton, a follower of Lorn, we are told, was bold enough, in the presence ot lr.s chief, to express a generous admiration of '.] duct of the king. Being upbraided for which seemed to imply a want ot consideration for the lives and honour of his own men, he r '•that he who had won the prize of chivalry, whether friend or foe, deserved t 1 be spoken 1 ! with respect." The danger which the royal bt party had thus for the time escaped, the near appr h >t winter, which the means of pu] and their almost certain desti Id they descend into the level countrv, .:. luce 1 the king to 204 ROBERT BRUCE. give up all thoughts of keeping the field in the face of so many difficulties. The queen and ladies were put under the escort of the remaining cavalry; and the charge of conducting them to the strong castle of Kildrummie, committed to Nigel, the king's second brother, and the Earl of Athole. The parting was sorrowful on both sides; and Robert here took the last leave of his brother Nigel, who not long after fell a victim to the in- exorable Edward. Robert now resolved, with his few remaining fol- lowers, amounting to about 200 men, to force a passage into Cantyre, that thence he might cross over into the north of Ireland. At the banks of Loch- lomond the progress of the party was interrupted. They dared not travel round the lower end of the lake, lest they should encounter the forces of Argyle; and until they should reach the friendly country of the Karl of Lennox, they could not, for a moment, consider themselves safe from the enemies who hung upon their rear. Douglas, after a long search for some means of conveyance, was fortunate enough to discover a small boat capable of carrying three persons, but so leaky and decayed, that there would be much danger in trusting to it. In this, which was their only resource, the king and Sir James were ferried over the lake. Some accomplished the passage by swimming; and the little boat went and returned until all the others were safely transported. The royalists, forlorn as their circumstances were, here felt themselves relieved from the disquietudes which had attended their late marches; and the king, while they were refreshing themselves, is said to have recited for their entertainment the story of the siege of Egrymor, from the romance of Ferembras. It was here, while traversing the woods in search of food, that the king accidentally fell in with the Earl of Lennox, ignorant till then of the fate of his sovereign, of whom he had received no intelligence since the defeat at Methven. The meeting is said to have affected both, even to tears. By the earl's exertions the royal party were amply supplied with provisions, and were shortly after enabled to reach in safety the castle of Dunaverty in Cantyre, where they were hospitably received by Angus of Isla. Bruce remained no longer in this place than was necessary to recruit the strength and spirits of his companions. Sir Neil Campbell having provided a number of small vessels, the fugitive and now self- exiled king, accompanied by a few of his most faithful followers, parsed over to the small island of Kachrin, on the north coast of Ireland, where they remained during the ensuing winter. A miserable destiny awaited the friends and par- tisans whom Iiruce had left in Scotland. Imme- diately after the rout at Methven. Edward issued a proclamation for a search after all those who had been in arms against the English government, and ordering them to be delivered up dead or alive. It was ordained that all who were at the slaughter of Comyn, or who had harboured the guilty persons or their accomplices, should be drawn and hanged: that all who were already taken, or might hereafter be taken in arms, and all who harboured them, should be hanged or beheaded; that those who had voluntarily surrendered themselves, should be im- prisoned during the king's pleasure: and that all persons, whether of the ecclesiastical order or lav- men, who had willingly espoused the cause of Bruce, or who had procured or exhorted the people of Scotland to rise in rebellion, should, upon con- viction, be also imprisoned. With regard to the common people, a discretionary power of fining and ransoming them was committed to the guardian. This ordinance was enforced with a rigour cor- responding to its spirit, and the dread of Edward's vengeance became general throughout the kingdom. The castle of Kildrummie being threatened by the English forces in the north, Elizabeth, Bruce's queen, and Marjory his daughter, with the other ladies who had there taken refuge, to escape the hardships and dangers of a siege, fled to the sanctuary of St. Duthac at Tain in Ross-shire. The Earl of Ross violated the sanctuary, and making them prisoners, sent them into England. Certain knights and squires by whom they had been escorted, being taken at the same time, were put to death. The queen and her daughter, though doomed to ex- perience a long captivity, appear to have been invariably treated with becoming respect. Isabella, Countess of Buchan, who had signalized her patrio- tism on the occasion of Robert's coronation, had a fate somewhat different. Unwilling to inflict a capital punishment, the English king had recourse to an ingenious expedient by which to satisfy his vengeance. She was ordered to be confined in a cage constructed in one of the towers of Berwick Castle; the cage bearing in shape the resemblance of a crown; and the countess was actually kept in this miserable durance for the remainder of her life. Mary, one of Bruce's sisters, was committed to a similar custody in one of the towers of Rox- burgh Castle; and Christina, another sister, was confined in a convent. Lamberton, Bishop of St. Andrews, Wisheart, Bishop of Glasgow, and the abbot of Scone, who had openly assisted Robert's cause, owed their lives solely to the inviolability of the clerical character. Lamberton and the abbot of Scone were committed to close custody in England. Wisheart having been seized in armour, was, in that uncanonical garb, carried a prisoner to the castle of Nottingham, where he is said to have been confined in irons. Edward earnestly solicited the pope to have these rebellious ecclesiastics deposed — a request with which his holiness does not seem to have complied. The castle of Kildrummie was besieged by the Earls of Lancaster and Hereford. Being a place of considerable strength, it might have defied the English army for a length of time, had not the treachery of one of the garrison, who set fire to the magazine of grain and provisions, constrained it to surrender at discretion. Nigel Bruce, by whom the castle had been defended, was carried prisoner to Berwick; where, being tried by a special commission, he was condemned, hanged, and afterwards beheaded. This miserable fate of the king's brother excited a deep and universal detestation among the Scots towards the unrelenting cruelty of Edward. Chris- topher Seton, the brother-in-law of Bruce, and Alexander Seton, suffered under a similar sentence, the one at Dumfries, and the other at Newcastle. The Earl of Athole, in attempting to make his escape by sea, was discovered and conducted to London; where he underwent the complicated pun- ishment then commonly inflicted on traitors, being hanged till only half dead, beheaded, disembowelled, "and the trunk of his body burned to ashes before his own face." lie i: ] as not drawn, that point of punishment being remitted. Edward, we are told, although then grievously sick, endured the pains of his disease with greater patience after hearing of the capture of the Karl of Athole. Simon Lrazer of Olivar Castle, the friend and companion in arms of Wallace, being also taken at this time, suffered capitally at London, and his head being placed on the point of a lance, was set near to that of his old friend and leader. Alontr with this brave man was ROBERT BRUCE. 205 likewise executed Herbert de Norham. Among so many persons of note, others of inferior distinction did not escape; and Edward might, indeed, be said by his tyranny to have even now provoked that popular reaction which would suffice for his own defeat. To complete the measure of Robert's mis- fortunes, he and all his adherents were solemnly excommunicated by the pope's legate at Carlisle. The lordship of Annandale was bestowed on the Earl of Hereford, the earldom of Carrick on Henry de Percy, and his English estates were disposed of in like manner. During this period Bruce was fortunately out of the reach and knowledge of his enemies in the solitary island of Rachrin. Fordun relates that a" sort of ribald proclamation was made after him through the churches of Scotland, as lost, stolen, or strayed. The approach of spring, and a seasonable supply of money from Christina of the Isles, again roused the activity of Robert. Sir James Douglas, with the permission of his master, first passed over to Arran; where, shortly after his landing, he surprised a party belonging to Brodick Castle, in the act of convey- ing provisions, arms, and clothing to that garrison. Here he was in a few days joined by the king, who arrived from Rachrin with a small fleet of thirty- three galleys. Having no intelligence of the enemy, a trusty person named Cuthbert was despatched by the king to the opposite shore of Carrick, with in- structions to sound the dispositions of the people; and, if the occasion seemed favourable for a descent among them, to make a signal, at a day appointed, by lighting a fire upon an eminence near the castle of Turnberry. The country, as the messenger found, was fully possessed by the English; the castle of Turnberry in the hands of Percy, and occupied by a garrison of near three hundred men; the old vassals of Bruce dispirited or indifferent, and many of them hostile. Appearances seemed altogether so un- favourable, that Cuthbert resolved to return without making the signal agreed upon. Robert watched anxiously the opposite coast of Carrick, at the point from which it should become visible; and when noon had already passed, a fire was plainly discerned on the rising ground above Turnberry. Assured that this could be no other than the concerted signal, the king gave orders for the instant embarkation of his men, who amounted to about three hundred. It is reported that, while he was walking on the beach, during the preparations for putting to sea, the woman at whose house he had lodged requested an audience of him. Pretending to a knowledge of future events, she confidently predicted that he should soon be king of Scotland, but that he must expect to en- counter many difficulties and dangers in the course of the war; and, confiding in the truth of her pre- diction, she sent her two sons along with him. Towards evening they put to sea; and when night closed upon them, they were enabled to direct their course across the firth by the light of the beacon, which still continued to bunion the heights of Turn- berry. ( )n landing they were met by the messenger Cuthbert, with the unwelcome intelligence that there was no hope of assistance from the people of Carrick. "Traitor," cried Bruce, "why made vou then the fire?'' "I made no signal," replied the man, "but observing a fire upon the hill. I feared that it might deceive you. and I hasted hither to warn you from the coast. ' In such a perilous dilemma, Iiruce hesitated upon the course he should adopt; but. urged by the precipitate spirit of his brother Edward, and yielding at length to the dictates of his own more considerate valour, he resolved to persevere in the enter; rise. The greater part of the English troops under Percy were carelessly cantoned in the town, situated at some little distance from the castle of Turnberry. Before morning their quarters were surprised, and nearly the whole body, amounting to about two hundred men, put to the sword. Percy and his garrison heard from the castle the uproar of the night attack; but, ignorant alike of the enemy and their numbers, they dared not attempt a rescue. Bruce made prize of a rich booty, amongst which were his own war-horses and 'household plate. When the news of this bold and successful enter- prise became known, a detachment of above 1000 men, under the command of Roger St. John, were despatched from Ayr to the relief of Turnberrv ; and Robert, unable to oppose such a force, thought proper to retire into the mountainous parts of Carrick. The king's brothers, Thomas and Alexander, had been, previously to Robert's departure from Rach- rin, sent over into Ireland to procure assistance; and having succeeded in collecting about 700 men, they endeavoured to effect a landing at Loch- ryan in Galloway, intending from thence to march into the neighbouring district of Carrick. Mac- dowal, a powerful chieftain of Galloway, having hastily collected his vassals, attacked and routed the invading party; the two brothers of the king and Sir Reginald Crawfurd, all of them wounded, were made prisoners; and Malcolm Mackail, lord of Ken- tir, and two Irish reguli or chieftains, were slain. Macdowal cut off the heads of the principal persons who had fallen; and along with these bloody tokens of his triumph, presented his prisoners to King Edward, then residing at Carlisle. The two brothers and their associate, supposed by some to have been a near relation of "Wallace, were ordered to im- mediate execution. This disaster, coupled as it wa - with the insured enmity of the Gallovidians, and the near approach of the English, rendered for a time the cause of Bruce entirely hopeless. His partisans either fell off or were allowed to disperse themselves, while he himself often wandered alone. or but slightly accompanied, among woods and morasses, relying on his own great personal prowess, or his intimate knowledge of that wild district, in which he had been brought up, or on the fidelity ol some attached vassal of his family. Almost all the incidents relating to Bruce, at this period of his for- tunes, partake strongly of the romantic; and were it not that the authority from which they are derived has been found to be generally correct, some of them might well be deemed fabulous, v r grossly exaggerated. The perilous circumstances in which he was placed, and his undaunted courage, furnished of themselves ample scope for the realizati marvellous adventure; and these, because marvellous or exaggerated, ought not, on that account, I altogether or too hastily rejected. One of I adventures, said to have befallen the king at this time, is so extraordinary that we cannot omit it. While Robert was wandering among the fasti of Carrick. after the defeat ot his Irish av.x at I.ochryan, his small army s 1 re luce 1 as 1 amount to sixty men, the Gallovidians ehar.c gain such intelligence of his situation a- ;: to attempt his surprisal. They raf- ; pur- pose, a body of more than e themselves with bloodl Notwithstanding the privacy of th icr.ts, Pruce had notice of his dang. r. what time to expect their attack. T wards he withdrew his band 1 ; 11 pro: ■■ morass on the Due si de. and i-v a nvi 206 ROBERT BRUCE. other, which had only one narrow ford, over which the enemy must pass. Here, leaving his followers to their rest, the king, accompanied by two atten- dants, returned to the ford, and after listening for some time, he could at length distinguish the distant sound of a hound's questing, or that eager yell which the animal is known to make when urged on in the pursuit of its prey. Unwilling for this cause alone to disturb the repose of his fatigued followers, Robert determined, as it was a clear moonlight night, to ascertain more exactly the reality of the danger. lie soon heard the voices of men urging the hound for- ward, and no longer doubtful, he despatched his two attendants to warn his men of the danger. The blood-hounds, true to their instinct, led the body of Gallovidians directly to the ford where the king stood, who then boldly determined, till succour should arrive, to defend the passage of the ford, which was the more possible, as, from its narrow- ness, only one assailant could pass over at a time. Seeing only a solitary individual posted on the opposite side to dispute their way, the foremost of the enemy rode boldly into the water: but in attempt- ing to land, Bruce, with a thrust of his spear, laid him dead on the spot. The same fate awaited four of his companions, whose bodies became a sort of ram- part of defence against the others, who fell back in some confusion. Ashamed that so many should be baffled by one man, they returned to the attack; but were so valiantly opposed, that the post was still maintained, when the loud shout of Robert's followers advancing to his rescue, warned the Gallo- vidians to retire, after sustaining in this unexampled combat the loss of fourteen men. The danger to which the king had exposed himself, and the great bravery he had manifested, roused the spirits of his party, who now began, with increasing numbers, to flock to his standard. Douglas, who had been successfully employed against the English in his own district of Douglasdale, also about this time joined the king with a reinforcement from the vassals of his family. Pembroke the guardian, at the head of a consider- able body, now took the field against Robert; and was joined by John of Lorn, with 800 Highlanders, men well calculated for that irregular kind of war- fare which Bruce was obliged to adopt. Lorn is said to have had along with him a blood-hound which had once belonged to the king, and was so strongly attached to its old master, and familiar with his scent, that if once it got upon his track it would never part from it. These two bodies advanced separately, Pembroke carefully keeping to the low and open country, where his cavalry could act with effect; while Lorn by a circuitous route endeavoured to gain the rear of tiie king's party. The Highland chieftain so well succeeded in this manoeuvre, that before Robert was aware of his danger, he found him- self environed by the two hostile bodies of troops, either of which was greatly superior to his own. In this emergency the king, having appointed a place of rendezvous, divided his men into three companies, and ordered them to retreat by different routes, that they might have the better chance of escape. Lorn, arriving at the place where the Scottish army had separated, set loose the blood-hound, which, falling upon the king's scent, led the pursuers immedi- ately on his track. The king finding himself pursued, again subdivided his remaining party into three, but without effect, for the hound still kept true to the track of its former master. The case now appearing desperate, Robert ordered the re- mainder of his followers to disperse themselves; and, accompanied by oniy one person, endeavoured by this last means to frustrate the pursuit. In this he was of course unsuccessful ; and Lorn, who now saw the hound choose that direction which only two men had taken, knew certainly that one of these must be the king; and despatched five of his swiftest men after them with orders either to slay them, or delay their flight. Robert finding these men gaining hotly upon him, faced about, and with the aid of his companion slew them all. Lorn's men were now so close upon him that the king could perceive they were led on by a blood-hound. Fortunately, he and his companion had reached the near covert of a wood, situated in a valley through which ran a brook or rivulet. Taking advantage of this circumstance, Bruce and his attendant, before turning into any of the sur- rounding thickets, travelled in the stream so far as was necessary to destroy the strong scent upon which the hound had proceeded. The Highland chieftain, on arriving at the rivulet, here found that the hound had lost its scent; and aware of the difficulty of a further search, was compelled to quit the chase. By another account the escape of Bruce from the blood-hound is told thus: An archer who had kept near to the king in his flight, having dis- covered that by means of the hound Robert's course had been invariably tracked, stole into a thicket, and from thence despatched the animal with an arrow. Bruce reached in safety the rendezvous of his party, after having narrowly escaped from the treachery of three men, by whom, however, his faithful companion was slain. The English, under the impression that the Scottish army was totally dispersed, ne- glected the necessary precautions; and the king, aware of their security, succeeded in surprising a body of 200, carelessly cantoned at some little dis- tance from the main army, and put the greater part of them to the sword. Pembroke soon after retired towards the borders of England, but was not long in gaining such information as led him to hope the surprisal of the king. Approaching with great secrecy a certain wood in Glentruel, where Robert then lay, he was on the point of accomplishing his purpose, when the Scots, happily discovering their danger, rushed forth unexpectedly upon their assailants and put them to flight. Pembroke, upon this defeat, retreated with his army to Carlisle. Robert, encouraged by these successes, now ven- tured down upon the low country, and soon reduced the districts of Kyle, Carrick, and Cunningham to his obedience. Sir Philip Mowbray having been despatched with 1000 men to make head against this rapid progress, was attacked at advantage by Doug- las with so much spirit, that, after a loss of sixty men, his force was routed, himself narrowly escaping. Pembroke again determined to take the field in per- son, and with a strong body of cavalry advanced into Ayrshire, and came up with the army of Bruce on Loudon Hill. The Scottish king, though his forces were still greatly inferior in number, and con- sisted entirely of infantry, determined to give battle- to the English on the spot. He had carefully selected his ground, and by strongly intrenching the flanks of his position, was a match for the numbers and cavalry of the enemy. His force amounted in all to about 600 spearmen; that of Pembroke was not less than 3000 well mounted and armed soldiery, displaying an imposing contrast to the small but unyielding mass opposed to them. Pembroke, dividing his army into two lines or divisions, ordered the attack to be commenced; and the van, with lances couched, advanced at full gallop to the charge. The Scots sustained the shock, a desperate conflict ensued, and the English van was at length driven ROBERT BRUCE. 207 back upon the rear or second division. This decided the fortune of the day. The Scots were now the assailants, and the rear of the English, panic-struck and disheartened, gave way, and finally retreated. The rout became general; Pembroke's whole army was put to flight, a considerable number being slain in the battle and pursuit, and many made prisoners. The loss on the part of the Scots is said to have been extremely small. Three days after the battle of Loudon Hill Bruce encountered and defeated Monthermur, and obliged him to take refuge in the castle of Ayr. He for some time blockaded this place, but retired at the approach of succours from England. These successes, though in themselves limited, proved of the utmost importance to Robert's cause, and gave it that stability which hitherto it had never attained. The death of Edward I. at this period was another event which could not but favourably affect the fortunes of Scotland, at the very moment when the whole force of England was collected for its invasion. That great monarch's resentment towards Bruce and his patriotic followers did not die with him. With his last breath he gave orders that his dead body should accompany the army into Scotland, and remain unburied until that country was totally subdued. Edward II. disregarded this injunction, and had the body of his father more becomingly disposed of in the royal sepulchre at Westminster. Edward II., by his weak and obstinate disposition, was incapable of appreciating, far less of acting up to the dying injunctions of his heroic father. His utter disregard fur these was, indeed, manifested in the very first act of his reign — that of recalling his unworthy favourite I'iers Caveston from exile, who with other minions of his own cast was from that moment to take the place of all the faithful and experienced ministers of the late king, and by this measure he laid an early foundation for the disgust and alienation of his English subjects. His manage- ment in regard to Scotland was equally unpropitious. After wasting much valuable time at Dumfries and Roxburgh in receiving the homage of the Scottish barons, he advanced as far as Cumnock in Ayrshire, from whence, without striking a blow, he retreated into England. A campaign so inglorious, after all the mighty preparation spent upon it, could not but have a happy effect upon the rising fortunes of the Scottish patriots, while it disheartened all in Scotland who from whatever cause favoured the English in- terest. The English king had no sooner retired than Bruce invaded Galloway, and, wherever opposed, wasted the country with lire and sword. The fate of his two brothers, who had here fallen into the hands of the chieftain Macdowal, most probably in- fluenced the king in this act of severe retribution. The Earl of Richmond, whom Edward had newly created guardian, was sent to oppose his progress, upon which Robert retired into the north of Scot- land, leaving Sir James Douglas in the south for the purpose of reducing the forests of Selkirk and Jcd- burgh to obedience. The king, without encounter- ing almost any resistance, overran great part of the north, seizing, in li i -. progress, the castle of Inverness and many other fortified places, which he ordered to be entirely demolished. Returning southward, he was met by the Marl of Huchan at the head of a tu- multuary body of Scots and English, whom, at the first charge, he put to flight. In the course of this expedition the king became affected with a grievous illness, which re luced his bodily and mental strength to that degree, that little hopes were entertained nf his recovery. Ancient historians have attributed this malady to the effects of the cold, famine, poor lodg- ing, and hardships, to which he had been subjected ever since the defeat at Methven. Buchan, encouraged by the king's illness, again assembled his numerous followers, and Ixdng joined by Mowbray, an English commander, came up with the king's forces, then strongly posted near Slaines, on the east coast of Aberdeenshire. The royalists avoided battle; and beginning to be straitened for provisions, retired in good order, fir-t to Strathbogie, and afterwards to Inverury. By this time the violence of the king's disorder had abated, and he began by slow degrees to recover strength. Buchan, who still watched for an opportunity, advanced to Old Mel- drum; and Sir David Brechin, who had joined him- self to his party, came upon Inverury suddenly with a detachment of troops, cut off several of the royalists in the outskirts of the town, and retired without loss. This military bravado instantly roused the king; and, though too weak to mount on horseback without as- sistance, and supported by two men on each side of his saddle, he took the direction of his troop-. and encountering the forces of Buchan, though much superior to his own, put them to flight. The agitation of spirits which Robert underwent on this occasion is said to have restored him to health. About this time the castle of Aberdeen was sur- prised by the citizens, the garrison put to the sword, and the fortifications razed to the ground. A body of English having been collected for the purpose of chastising this bold exploit, they were spiritedly met on their march by the inhabitants, routed, and a con- siderable number taken prisoners, who were after- wards, says Boece, hanged upon gibbets around the town, as a terror to their companions. A person named Philip, the forester of Platane, having col- lected a small body of patriots, succeeded, about the same period, in taking the strong castle of Forfar by escalade. The English garrison were put to the sword, and the fortifications, by order of the king. destroyed. Many persons of note who had hitherto opposed Bruce, or who from prudential considera- tions had submitted to the domination of England, now openly espoused the cau.se of their country. Among the rest, Sir David Brechin, the king's nephew, upon the overthrow at Inverury, submitted himself to his uncle. While Robert was thus successfully engaged in the north, his brother Edward invaded Galloway. He- was opposed by Sir Ingram Umphraville and Sir John de St. John with about 1200 men. A bloody battle ensued at the Water of Cree, in which the English, after severe loss, were constrained to flee. Great slaughter was made in the pursuit, and the two commanders escaped with difficulty to the castle ol Butel, on the sea-coast. Sir John retired into England, where, raising a force ot 1500 men, he returned into Galloway in the hope of finding his victorious enemy unprepared. Edward Bruce, how- ever, had notice of his movements, and with his characteristic valour or temerity, resolved to over- reach the enemy in their own stratagem. Ii" ing his infantry in a strong position in the line 1 f march of the assailants, he himself, will men well harnessed, succeeded in £ r rear, with the intent of failing unexpectedly v\ -n them so soon as his intrenched camp should 1 e Kdward was favoured in this hazn by a mist so thick that no obj enu 1 at the distance of a bowshot: 1 ,.:. 1 : re his design could be brought to bear, the vai urs -uddenlv clearing away, left his small ; irty : illy discovered to the English. Retreat with I safety was impossible, and to the reckle - c >urage of their 208 ROBERT BRUCE. leader no thought of retreat occurred. His fifty horsemen no sooner became visible to their astonished foes than they nished furiously to the attack, and put them to rout. Thus successful in the field, Edward expelled the English garrisons, and reduced the whole district to the authority of his brother. Douglas, after achieving many advantages in the south, among which the successive captures of his own castle in Douglasdale were the most remarkable, about this time surprised and made prisoners Alex- ander Stewart of Bonkil, and Thomas Randolph, the king's nephew. When Randolph, who, from the defeat at Methven, had adhered faithfully to the English interest, was brought before his sovereign, the king is reported to have said, "Nephew, you have been an apostate for a season; you must now be reconciled." " You require penance of rue!" re- plied Randolph fiercely; "yourself rather ought to do penance. Since you challenged the King of England to war, you ought to have asserted your title in the open field, and not to have betaken yourself to cowardly ambuscades." " That may be hereafter, and perchance ere long," the king calmly replied; "meanwhile, it is fitting that your proud words re- ceive due chastisement, and that you be taught to know my right ami your own duty." After this re- buke Randolph was ordered for a time into close con- finement. This singular interview may have been preconcerted between the parties for the purpose of cloaking under a show of restraint Randolph's true feelings in joining the cause of his royal relative. Certain it is, his confinement was of brief duration; and in all the after acts of his life he showed with how hearty a devotion he had entered on his new and more honourable field of enterprise. Shortly after the rejunction of Douglas, Bruce carried his arms into the territory of Lorn, being now able to take vengeance on the proud chieftain who, after the defeat at Methven, had so nearly accomplished his destruction. To oppose this inva- sion the Lord of Lorn collected about 2000 men, whom he posted in ambuscade in a defile, having the high mountain of Ben Cruachan on the one side, and a precipice overhanging Loch Awe on the other. This pass was so narrow in si ime places as not to admit of two horsemen passing abreast. Robert, who had timely information of the manner in which this road was beset through which he must necessarily pass, detached one-half of his army, consisting entirely of light-armed troops and archers, under Douglas, with orders to make a circuit of the mountain, and so gain the high ground in the rear and flank of the enemy's position. He himself, with the rest of his troops, entered the pass, where they were soon attacked by tlic ambushment. This lasted not long; for the party of Douglas appearing on the heights immediately above them and in their rear, descended the mountain and fell upon them sword in hand, the king, at the same time, pressing upon them from the pass. The men of Lorn were defeated with great slaughter; and theirehief, who hail planned this unsuccessful ambush, after witnessing its miscarriage, soon after put to sea, and retired into England. Robert laid wa^te the whole district of Lorn; and gaining possession of Dunstaffnage, garrisoned it strongly with his own soldiers. While Bruce and his partisans were thus suc- cessfully emancipating Scotland, and subduing the refractory spirit of some of their own nobility, every- thing was feeble and fluctuating in the councils of their enemies. In less than a year Kdward changed or re-appointed the governors of Scotland ^ix different times. Through the mediation of Philip, King of 1' ranee, a short truce was finally agreed upon between Edward and Robert; but infractions having been made on both sides, Bruce laid siege to the castle of Rutherglen. In February, 1310, a truce was once more agreed upon, notwithstanding which John de Segrave was appointed to the guardianship of Scot- land on both sides of the Forth, and had the warlike power of the north of England placed at his disposal. It was early in the same year that the clergy of Scot- land assembled in a provincial council, and issued a declaration to all the faithful, bearing that the Scottish nation, seeing the kingdom betrayed and enslaved, had assumed Robert Bruce for their king, and that the clergy had willingly done homage to him in that character. During these negotiations hostilities were never entirely laid aside. The advantages of the warfare, however, were invariably on the side of Bruce, who was now preparing to attack Perth, at that time esteemed the capital of Scotland; and roused to activity by this danger, Edward made preparations for its immediate defence. The whole military array of England was ordered to meet the king at Berwick; but the English nobles, disgusted with his govern- ment, and detesting his favourite Gaveston, repaired unwillingly to the royal standard. Towards the end of autumn the English commenced their march, and directing their course through the forest of Selkirk to Biggar, are said to have thence penetrated as fat- as Renfrew. Not finding the enemy, in any body, to oppose their progress, and unable from the season of the year, aggravated as it was by a severe famine, to procure forage and provisions, the army retreated by the way of Linlithgow and the Lothians to Ber- wick, where Edward remained inactive for eight months. Bruce, during this invasion, cautiously avoided an open engagement, contenting himself with sending detached parties to hang upon the rear of the English. About this time the castle of Linlithgow — a place of great importance to the English, as being midway between Stirling and Edinburgh — was surprised by a poor peasant named William Binnock. This man, having been employed to lead hay into the fort, placed a party of armed friends in ambush as near as possible to the gate; and concealing under his seeming load of hay eight armed men, advanced to the castle, himself walking carelessly by the side ot the wain, while a servant led the cattle in front. When the carriage was fairly in the gateway, so that neither the gates of the castle could be closed, nor the portcullis let down, the person in front who had charge of the oxen cut the soam or withy rope by which the animals were attached to the wain, which thus instantly became stationary. Binnock, making a concerted signal, his armed friends leaped from under the hay and mastered the sentinels; and being immediately joined by the other party in ambush, the garrison, almost without resistance, were put to the sword, and the place taken. Robert, finding his authority well established at home, and Edward almost entirely engrossed by the dissensions of his own subjects, resolved, by an inva- sion of England, to retaliate the miseries with which that country had so long afflicted his kingdom. As- sembling a considerable army, he advanced into the bishopric of Durham, laying waste the country with lire and sword, and giving up the whole district to the reckless license of the soldiery. "Thus,'' says Fordun, "by the blessing of Cod, and by a just retribution of providence, were the perfidious Lnglish, who had despoiled and slaughtered many, in their turn subjected to punishment." Edward II. made a heavy complaint to the pope of the "horrible ravages, depredations, burnings, and murders" com- ROBERT BRUCE. 209 mitted by "Robert Bruce and his accomplices" in this inroad, in which "neither age nor sex were spared, nor even the immunities of ecclesiastical liberty respected." The papal thunder had, how- ever, already descended harmless on the Scottish king and his party; and the time had arrived when the nation eagerly hoped, and the English might well dread, the coming of that storm which should avenge the injuries inflicted on Scotland. Soon after his return from England, Robert laid siege to Perth, a place in those days so strongly fortified, that, with a sufficient garrison, it might bid defiance to any open force. Having lain before the town for six weeks, the king raised the siege, and retired to some distance, as if he had desisted from the enterprise. He had gained intelligence, however, that the ditch which surrounded the town was fordable in one place; and having provided scaling-ladders of a sufficient length, he, with a chosen body of infantry, returned after an absence of eight days, and approached the works. The self-security of the garrison, who thought he was at a distance, and the darkness of the night, favoured his enterprise. Himself carrying a ladder, he was the foremost to enter the ditch, the water of which reached breast-high, and the second to mount the walls when the ladders were applied. A Erench knight, serving under the Scottish king, having witnessed such a gallant example, is reported to have exclaimed with enthusiasm, "What shall we say of our lords of Erance, that with dainty living, wassail, and revelry pass their time, when so worthy a knight, through his great chivalry, puts his life into so great hazard to win a wretched hamlet." Saying this, he, with the lively valour of his nation, threw himself into the fosse, and shared in the danger and glory of the enterprise. The walls were scaled, and the town taken almost without resistance. By the king's orders quarter was given to all who laid down their arms; and in accordance with the policy he had hitherto pursued, the fortifications of the place were entirely demolished. Edward once more made advances for a truce with the Scottish king; but Robert, who well knew the importance of following up his success, rejected the proposals, ami again invaded England. In this incursion the Scottish army ravaged and plun- dered the county of Northumberland and bishopric of Durham. The towns of Hexham and Cor- bridge, and great part of the city of Durham, were burned. The army, in returning, were bold enough, by a forced march, to attempt the surprisal of Berwick, where the English king then lay; but t'aeir design being discovered, they were obliged to retire. So great was the terror of these predatory visitations in the districts exposed to them, that the inhabitants of the county of Durham, and afterwards those of Northumberland, Cumberland, and West- moreland, contributed each a sum of ^2000 to be spared in future from such spoliations. In the same year the king assaulted and took the castles of Butel, Dumfries, and Dalswinton. The strong and impor- tant fortress of Roxburgh, also, at this time fell into his hands by the stratagem and braverv of Sir lames Douglas. All of these places were, by the king's order>, destroyed, that they might on no future occa- sion become serviceable to the enemy. The surprisal of Edinburgh Castle by Randolph, the king's nephew, ought nut, among the stirring events of this time, to be passed over. That brave knight had for some time strictly blockaded the castle; but the place being one of great natural strength, strongly fortified, and well stored with men and provisions, there seemed little hope of its capture. The garrison were also VOL. 1. completely upon the alert. Having had reason to suspect the fidelity of I.eland, their governor, they hail put him under confinement, and elected another commander. Matters stood thus when a singular disclosure, made to Randolph by a man named William Frank, suggested the possibility of taking the almost impregnable fortress by escalade. This man, in his youth, had resided in the castle as one of the garrison; and having an amorous intrigue in the city, he had been wont to descend the wall in the night by means of a rope-ladder, and through a steep and intricate path to arrive at the foot of the rock. By the same precipitous road he had always regained the castle without discovery; and so familiar had all its windings become to him, that he confidently en- gaged to guide a party by the same track to the bottom of the walls. Randolph resolved to under- take the enterprise. Having provided a suitable ladder, he, with thirty chosen men, put himself under the guidance of Erank, who, towards the middle of a dark night, safely conducted the party to the bottom of the precipitous ascent. After clambering with great difficulty about half-way up the rock, the ad- venturous party reached a broad projection or shelf, on which they rested to recover breath. While in this position, they heard above them the guard or check-watch of the garrison making their rounds, and could distinguish that they paused a little on that part of the ramparts immediately over them. One of the watch, throwing a stone from the wall, cried out, "Away, I see you well." The stone flew over the heads of the ambuscading party, who happily re- mained unmoved, as they really were unseen. The guard, hearing no stir to follow, passed on. Having waited till they had gone to a distance, the assailants again got up, and at the peril of their lives succeeded in clambering up the remaining part of the rock to the foot of the wall, to which they affixed their ladder. Erank, the guide, was first to mount the walls; Sir Andrew Gray was the next; Randolph himself was the third. Before the whole could reach the summit of the wall, the alarm was given, and the garrison rushed to arms. A fierce encounter took place; bet the governor having been slain, the English sur- rendered. The fortifications of the castle were dis- mantled; and Leland, the former governor, having been released from his confinement, entered the Scot- tish service. The Earl of Athole, who had long adhered to the English faction, and who had recently obtained as a reward for his fidelity a giant of lands in England, now joined the rising fortunes of his lawful sovereign. Through the mediation of Erance. conferences for a truce were renewed; but, notwithstanding of these, Robert invaded Cumberland, wasting the country to a great extent. The Cumbrians earnestly besought succour from Edward: but that prince being ab mt to depart for Erance, did nothing but extol fidelity, desiring them to defend themselves until his return. By invading Cumberland at this time, Bruce probably intended to draw the attention of the Eng- lish from the more serious design which he contem- plated of making a descent upon the Isle of Man. He had scarcely, therefore, returned from Iris ; reda- tory expedition into England, than, embarking his forces, lie landed unexpectedly upon that isiand, overthrew the governor, took the castle of Ruffin, and possessed himself of the island. The Manx governor on this occasion is. with great ] robability, conjectured to have been the same 1 chief- tain who defeated and made prisoners at Eochryan the two brothers of the Scottish king. On his return from France, Edward was n commissioners sent to him bv such Scots as stiil 14 ROBERT BRUCE. remained faithful in their allegiance to England. These made bitter complaint of the miserable condi- tion to which they had been reduced, both from the increasing power of Bruce, and from the oppression which they suffered under the government of the English ministers. Edward, deserted and despised by his nobility, who at this time not only refused to attend his army, but even to assemble in parliament upon his summons, could merely answer these com- plaints by promises which he was unable to per- form. Meanwhile the arms of the patriots continued to prosper. Edward Bruce took and destroyed the castle of Rutherglen, and the town and castle of Dundee. 1 Ie next laid siege to the castle of Stirling, then held by Philip de Mowbray, an English com- mander of braven* and reputation; but was here less successful. Unable, by any mode of attack known in those days, to make impression on a fortress of so great strength, Edward consented to a treaty with the governor that the place should be surrendered, if not succoured by the King of England before St. John's day in the ensuing midsummer. Bruce was much displeased with his brother for having granted such a truce, yet he consented to ratify it. The space of time agreed upon allowed ample leisure to the Eng- lish king to collect his forces for the relief of the castle — the almost only remaining stronghold which he now possessed in Scotland; and Robert felt that he must either oppose him in battle with a greatly inferior army, or, by retreating in such circumstances, lessen the great fame and advantages which he had acquired. The English king having effected a temporary re- conciliation with his refractory nobility, lost no time in making preparations, not only to relieve the castle of Stirling, but to recover the revolted kingdom to his authority. He summoned the whole power of the English barons to meet him in arms at Berwick on the I ith of June; invited to his aid Eth O'Connor, chief of the native Irish of Connaught, and twenty-six other Irish chieftains; summoned his English subjects in Ireland to attend his standard, and put both them and the Irish auxiliaries under the command of the Earl of Ulster. "So vast," says Barbour, "was the army which was now collected, that nothing nearly so numerous had ever before been arrayed by England, and no force that Scotland could produce might possibly have been able to withstand it in the open field." A considerable number of ships were also ordered for the invasion of Scotland by sea, and for transporting provisions and warlike stores for the use of the army. The Scottish king, meanwhile, used every effort to meet the approaching contest, and appointed a general rendezvous of his forces at the Torwood, between Falkirk and Stirling. His fighting men somewhat exceeded 30,000 in number, besides about 15,000 unarmed and undisciplined followers of the camp, according to the mode in those times. Two days before the battle he took up his position in a field not far from Stirling, then known by the name of New Park, which had the castle on the left, and the brook of Bannock on the right. The banks of the rivulet were steep and rugged, and the ground between it and Stirling, being part of a park or chase, was partly open, and partly broken by copse-wood and marshy ground. The place was naturally well adapted for opposing the attacks of cavalry, and to strengthen it yet more those places whereby horsemen might have access were covered with concealed pit- falls, so numerous and close together, that, according to one ancient authority, they might be likened to a honey-comb. They were a foot in width, and between two and three feet deep, many rows being placed one behind the other, the whole being slightly covered with sods and brushwood, so as not to be obvious to an impetuous enemy. The king divided his regular forces into four divisions. Three of these occupied the intended line of battle, from the brook of Bannock, which covered his right flank, to the village of St. Ninians, where their left must have re- mained somewhat exposed to the garrison of Stirling in their rear; Bruce, perhaps, trusting in this dispo- sition partly to the honour of Mowbray, who by the terms of the treaty was precluded from making any attack, but probably more to his real inability of giving any effectual annoyance. Edward Bruce com- manded the right wing of these three divisions, which was strengthened by a strong body of cavalry under Keith, the mareschal of Scotland, to whom was committed the charge of attacking the English archers; Sir James Douglas and the young Stewart of Scotland led the central division, and Thomas Randolph, now Earl of Moray, the left. The king himself commanded the fourth or reserve division, composed of the men of Argyle, the islanders, and his own vassals of Carrick. The unarmed followers of the camp were placed in a valley at some distance in the rear, separated from the field by an eminence, since denominated, it is supposed, from this circum- stance, the Gillies' (that is, the Servants') Hill. These dispositions were made upon the 22d of June, 1314; and next day, being Sunday, the alarm reached the Scottish camp of the approach of the enemy. Sir James Douglas and the mareschal were despatched with a body of cavalry to reconnoitre the English army, then in full march from Falkirk towards Stir- ling. They soon returned, and, in private, informed the king of the formidable state of the enemy, but gave out publicly that the English, though indeed a numerous host, seemed ill commanded and dis- orderly. The hurried march of Edward into Scot- land might give some colour of truth to this infor- mation; but no sight, we are told by the ancient authors, could in reality be more glorious and ani- mating than the advance of that great army, in which were concentrated the whole available chivalry, and all the martial pomp which the power and riches of the English monarch could command. Robert was particularly anxious that no succours from the English army should reach the garrison in Stirling Castle, and enjoined Randolph, who com- manded his left wing, to be vigilant against any such attempt. This precaution was not unsuccessful; for, as the English forces drew near, a body of 800 horse- men were detached under the command of Clifford. who, making a circuit by the low grounds to the east and north of St. Ninians, attempted to pass the front of the Scottish army and approach the castle. They were perceived by the king, who, coming hastily up to Randolph, exclaimed, "Thoughtless man ! you have suffered the enemy to pass your post: a rose has fallen from your chaplet!" On receiving this sharp reproof, Randolph hurried with 500 spearmen to redeem his negligence, or perish in the attempt. The English cavalry, perceiving his advance, wheeled round to attack him. Randolph drew up his small party into a compact form, pre- senting a front of spears extending outwards on all side.--, and awaited the charge. In this porcupine- like form were they assailed on every side by- Clifford's cavalry, but without effect. At the first onset a considerable number of the English were unhorsed, and Sir William Daynccourt, an officer of rink, was slain. Environed, however, as he was, there seemed no chance for Randolph; and Douglas, who witnessed the jeopardy of his friend, requested permission of the king to go and succour him. ROBERT BRUCE. "You shall not move from your ground," said Robert; "let Randolph extricate himself as he best may; I will not for him break purpose." "In truth," re- plied Douglas, after a pause, "I cannot stand by and see Randolph perish; and, with your leave, I must aid him." The king unwillingly consented, and Douglas hastened to the rescue. The generous sup- port of the good knight was not required; for he had not advanced far when he perceived the English to waver, and fall into confusion. Ordering his followers to halt, "those brave men," said he, "have repulsed the enemy; let us not diminish their glory by sharing it." The assailants had indeed begun to flag in their efforts, when Randolph, who watched well his opportunity, ordering, in his turn, a sudden and furious charge among them, put the whole body to flight, sustaining on his own side a loss so small as to seem almost incredible. While this spirited combat was going on in one part of the field, another, of a still more extraordinary character, was destined to arrest the attention of both armies. The English, who had slowly advanced in order of battle, had at length, before evening, ap- proached so near, that the two opposing vanguards came distinctly into view of each other. Robert was then riding leisurely along the front of the Scottish line, meanly mounted on a small palfrey, having a battle-axe in his hand, and distinguished from his knights by a circlet of gold over his helmet. Henry de Bohun, an English knight, completely armed, chanced to ride somewhat in advance of his com- panions, when, recognizing the Scottish king alone, and at such disadvantage, he rode furiously towards him with his spear couched, trusting to have unhorsed or slain him on the spot. Robert awaited the en- counter, avoided the spear of his adversary, and rising in the stirrups, struck Bohun, as he passed, with such a blow of his battle-axe as to cleave the steel helmet of the knight, and break the handle of the axe into two. The Scots, animated by this exploit of their leader, advanced upon the English vanguard, who immediately fell back in some con- fusion upon their main body. When the Scottish army had again recovered order, some of its leaders kindly rebuked Robert for his imprudence. The king, conscious of the justice of their remarks, said that he was sorry for the loss of his good battle-axe. These two incidents falling out so opportunely upon the eve of battle greatly animated the courage of the patriot army, while, in a like degree, they abashed and dispirited the enemy. On Monday the 24th of June, at break of day, the two armies mustered in order of battle. The van of the English, consisting of archers and lancemen, was commanded by the Earl of Gloucester, nephew of King Edward, and the Earl of Hereford, constable of England. The main body, comprising nine- great divisions, was led by the king in person, attended by the Earl of Pembroke and Sir Giles d'Argentine, a knight of Rhodes, and a chosen body of 500 well- armed horse as his body-guards. The nature of the ground did not permit the extension of this vast force, the van division alone occupying the whole front of battle, s > that to the Scots they appeared as compos- ing one great compact column. The Scots drew up in the order which we have already described. .Maurice, abbot of Inchaffrey, placing himself on an eminence in view of the whole Scottish army, cele- brated high mass then passing along the line bare- footed, and bearing a crucifix in his hand, he ex- horted the Scots in few and forcible words to combat for their rights and their liberty, upon which the whole armv knelt down and received his benediction. When King Edward observed the small and unpre- tending army of his enemies, he seemed surprised, and turning himself to Sir Ingram Umphraville, ex- claimed," "What ! will yon Scotsmen fight?" "Yea, sickerly," replied the knight, who even went the length of advising the king that, instead of making an open attack under so great disadvantages of position, he should feign a retreat, pledging himself, from his own experience, that by such means only could he break the firm array of the Scots and over- whelm them. The king disdained this counsel; and chancing then to observe the whole body of the Scots kneel themselves to the ground — "See," said he, "yon folk kneel to ask mercy." "You say truly," Sir Ingram replied; "they ask mercy, but it is not of you, but of God. Yon men will win the field or die." "Be it so then," said the king, and immediately gave order to sound the charge. At the signal of attack, the van of the English galloped on to charge the right wing of the Scots, commanded by Edward, the king's brother, and were received with unshaken firmness. This ad- vance allowed part of the main body of the English to come up, who, moving obliquely to the right of their own van, were soon engaged with the centre and left flank of the Scottish army. The conflict thus soon became general along the whole Scottish line. Repeated and desperate attempts were made by the Engish cavalry to break the firm, or as they seemed immovable, phalanxes of the enemy, but with no effect. Straitened and harassed by the nature of the ground, they with difficulty maintained order; and but that they were pressed on by the mass in their rear, the front lines of the English would have been repulsed. Bruce perceiving that his troops were grievously annoyed by the English archers, de- tached a small but chosen band of cavalry tinder Sir Robert Keith, who, making a circuit by the right extremity of the .Scottish line, fell furiously upon the unprotected archers in flank, and put them to flight. This body of men, whose importance in an English army was so often exemplified, were so effectually scattered, as to be of no after use in the battle. Robert with his body of reserve now joined battle; and though the fury on both sides was not relaxed, the English forces were even - moment falling more and more into disorder. Matters were in this criti- cal state, when a singular accident or device, for it never has been ascertained which, decided the fortune of the dav. As before stated, the Scottish camp was attended by about fifteen thousand followers; and these,alongwiththecamp baggage, were stationed by Bruce to the rear of a little eminence called Gillies' Hill. These men, either instructed for the purpose, or, what seems more likely, perceiving that the English army began to give way, resolved with what weapons chance afforded, to fall down into the rear of their countrymen, so that they might share in the honour and plunder of the victory. They drew up into a sort of martial order, some mounted on the baggage horses and others on foot, having sheets fastened upon tent-poles and spears, instead of banners. The sudden spectacle of what seemed to the English a new army, completed their confusion; the Scots felt their advantage, and raising a shout, pressed forward on their enemies witli a fury which became irresistible. Discipline and union were lost, and the rout of the English was complete. Pembroke, when he saw that the day was lost. seized Edward's horse by the bridle, and constrained him to leave the field. When Sir ( iiles d'Argentine. the brave knight of Rhodes, wa- informed of the king's flight, and pressed to accompany him, "It never was my wont to fly," said he, and putting spurs to his horse, he rushed into the battle and met 212 ROBERT BRUCE. his death. It was a vulgar opinion, that the three greatest warriors of that age were Henry of Luxemburg emperor of Germany, Robert king of Scotland and Sir Giles d' Argentine. Sir James Douglas, with sixty horsemen, followed hard in pur- suit of the English king. At the Torwood he was met by Sir Lawrence Abernethy with twenty horse hastening to the English rendezvous, but who, as soon as he understood that the Scots were victorious, joined the party of Douglas in the pursuit. Edward rode on without halting to Linlithgow; and had scarcely refreshed himself there, when the alarm that the Scots were approaching, forced him to resume his flight. Douglas and Abernethy followed so close upon his route, that many of the king's guards, who chanced to fall behind their companions, were slain. This pertinacious chase continued as far as Tranent, a distance of about forty miles from the field of battle, and was only given up when the horses could proceed no further. Edward at length reached the castle of Dunbar, where he was received by the Earl of March, and shortly afterwards con- veyed by a little fishing skiff to Bamborough, in England. Thirty thousand of the English are estimated to have fallen upon the field of Bannockburn. Of barons and bannerets there were slain twenty-seven, and twenty-two were taken prisoners; of knights the number killed was forty-two, while sixty were made prisoners. Barbour affirms that 200 pairs of gilt spurs were taken from the heels of slain knights. According to English historians the most distin- guished among those who fell were the Earl of Gloucester, Sir Giles d'Argentine, Robert Clifford, Payen Tybelot, William le Mareschal, and Edmund de Mauley, seneschal of England. Seven hundred esquires are also reckoned among the slain. The spoil of the English camp was great, and large sums must have accrued from the ransom of so many noble prisoners. If we may believe the statement of the Mink of Malmesbury, a contemporary English writer, the cost sustained by Ids countrymen on this occasion did not amount to less than ,£200,000; a sum equal in value to upwards of ,£3,000,000 of our present currency. The loss of the Scots is allowed on all hands to have been very inconsiderable; and the only persons of note slain were Sir William Vipont and Sir Walter Ro~<. The last-named was the particular friend of Edward Bruce, who, when informed of his death, passionately exclaimed, "Oh that this day's work was undone, so Ross had not died." On the day after the battle, Mowbray sur- rendered the castle of Stirling, according to the terms of the truce, and thenceforward entered into the service of the King of Scotland. Such was the victory obtained by Robert at Ban- nockburn, than which none more important was ever fought, before or since, between the so long hostile nationsof England and Scotland. It broke effectually and for ever the mastery, moral and physical, which the one had so nearly established over the other; and, while it once more confirmed the liberties of Scot- land, restored that passion for independence among her people which no after reverses could subdue. "We have only," as a late historian 1 has well observed, "to fix our eyes on the present condition of Ireland in order to feel the present reality of all that we owe to the victory at Bannockburn, and to the memory of such men as Bruce, Randolph, and Douglas." We have hitherto thought i< proper to enter with considerable, and even historical, minuteness into Tytlcr, the details of this life; both as comprising events of much interest to the general reader, and as introduc- ing what may be justly called the first great epoch in the modern history of Scotland. The rise, pro- gress, and establishment of Bruce, were intimately connected with the elevation, progression, and settled estate of his people, who as they never before had attained to a national importance so decided and unquestionable, so they never afterwards fell much short in the maintaining of it. It is not our intention, however, to record with equal minuteness the remain- ing events of King Robert's reign; which, as they, in a great measure, refer to the ordering and consoli- dating of the power which he had acquired, the framing of laws, and negotiating of treaties, fall much more properly within the province of the historian to discuss, than that of the biographer. The Earl of Hereford, who had retreated after the battle to the castle of Bothwell, was there besieged and soon brought to surrender. For this prisoner alone, the wife, sister, and daughter of Bruce were exchanged by the English, along with Wisheart Bishop of Glasgow, and the young Earl of Mar. Edward Bruce and Douglas, leaving the English no time to recover from their disastrous defeat, almost immediately invaded the eastern marches, wasted Northumberland, and laid the bishopric of Durham under contribution. Proceeding westward, they burned Appleby and other towns, and returned home loaded with spoil. "So bereaved," says an English historian, "were the English, at this time, of their wonted intrepidity, that a hundred of that nation would have fled from two or three Scotsmen." While the fortunes of Edward were in this state of depression, Bruce made advances towards the nego- tiating of a peace, but this war, now so ruinous on the part of the English, was yet far from a termina- tion. Robert, however desirous he might be to attain such an object, was incapable of granting unworthy concessions; and Edward was not yet sufficiently abased by his ill-fortune in war, or borne down by factions at home, to yield that which, in his hands, had become but a nominal possession. England was again invaded within the year; and, during the winter, the Scots continued to infest and threaten the borders with predatory incursions. In the spring of the ensuing year, 13 15, while the English king vainly endeavoured to assemble an army, the Scots again broke into England, pene- trated to the bishopric of Durham, and plundered the seaport town of Hartlepool. An attempt was shortly afterwards made to gain possession of Carlisle, but it was defeated by the vigorous efforts of the in- habitants. A scheme to carry Berwick by surprise also failed. This year was remarkable for an act of the estates settling the succession to the crown; and the marriage of the king's daughter, Marjory, to Walter the Stewart of Scotland, from whom after- wards descended the royal family of the Stuarts. The Irish of Ulster, who had long been discon- tented with the rule of England, now implored the assistance of the Scottish king, offering, should they be relieved, to elect Edward Bruce as their sovereign. The king closed with their proposals; and his brother, on the 25th May, 13 15, landed at Carrickfcrgus in the north of Ireland with an army of 6000 men. He was accompanied in the expedition by the Earl of Moray, Sir Philip Mowbray, Sir John Soulis, Fergus of Ardrossan, and Ramsay of Ochterhouse. With the aid of the Irish chieftains who flocked to his standard, he committed great ravages on the posses- sions of the English settlers in the north, and overran great part of the country. Edward Bruce met, how- ever, with considerable difficulties in the prosecution ROBERT BRUCE. 2'3 of his enterprise, and had several times to send for re- inforcements from Scotland, notwithstanding which he was solemnly crowned King of Ireland on the 2d May, 1316. King Robert, hearing of his difficulties, magnanimously resolved, with what succours he could afford, to go to the relief of his brother in person. Intrusting, therefore, the government of the kingdom, in his absence, to the Stewart and Douglas, he em- embarked at Lochryan, in Galloway, and landed at Carrickfergus. The castle of that place was at the time besieged by the forces of Edward Bruce, and was soon brought to surrender after his junction with his brother. The united armies then entered, by forced marches, the province of Leinster, with in- tent to seize upon Dublin, on the fate of which the existence of the English government in Ireland de- pended; but the hostile spirit and intrepidity of the inhabitants of that city rendered this effort abortive. Thence they marched to Cullen, in Kilkenny, and continued their devastating progress as far as Limer- ick; but being there threatened with the greatly superior forces collected by the English under Roger, Lord Mortimer, and experiencing great extremities from want, they were forced to terminate the expedi- tion by a retreat into the province of Ulster, in the spring of 1317. The particular history of the two Bruce's campaigns in Ireland seems to have been imperfectly known, and is very obscurely treated of by most contem- porary writers. Barbour, however, to whom the historians who treat of this period are so much in- debted, has given the relation with much circumstan- tiality and apparent correctness. We cannot omit quoting one exploit, which this author has recorded in a manner at once lively and characteristical. The Scottish army, in its march into the province of Leinster, was marshalled into two divisions, one of which, the van, was commanded by Edward Bruce; while the rear was led by Robert in person, assisted by the Earl of Moray. The Earl of Ulster, on the alert to oppose their progress, had collected an army of 40,000 men, which he posted in an extensive forest through which the Scottish line of march led, proposing from this concealment, to attack the rear division of the enemy, after the van should have passed the defile. Edward, naturally impetuous and unguarded, hurried onward in his march, neglecting even the ordinary precautions of keeping up a com- munication with the rear body, or of reconnoitring the ground through which he passed. Robert ad- vanced more slowly and with circumspection, at some distance in the rear, with his division, which amounted in all to no more that 5000 men. As he approached the ambushment of the enemy, small parties of archers appeared from among the thickets, who began to molest his soldiers in their march. See- ing their boldness, the king judged rightly that they must have support at no great distance, and immediately he issued strict commands to his men to march in exact order of battle, and on no pretence to quit their ranks. It happened that two of these archers discharged their arrows near to the person of Sir Colin Campbell, the king's nephew, who, neglecting the king's injunctions, rode off at full speed to avenge the insult. Robert, highly incensed, followed after him, and struck his nephew so violent a blow with his truncheon that he was nearly beaten from his horse. '"Such breach of orders.'' said he, "might have brought us all into jeopardy. I wot well, we shall have work to do ere long."' The numbers of the hostile archers increased as the Scots advanced; till, arriving at a large opening or glade of the forest, they descried the forces of the Earl of Ulster drawn up in lour divisions ready to dispute their passage. The king's prudent foresight was justified; ami, so much confidence had the soldiers in his sagacity, that, undaunted either by the sudden appearance or overwhelming numbers of the enemy, they were the first to commence the attack. After an obstinate resistance the Scots prevailed, and the ill-assorted Anglo-Irish army was, with much slaughter, driven from the field. Edward Bruce, soon after the defeat, rejoined his brother, regretting bitterly that he should have been absent on such an emergency. "It was owing to your own folly," said the king, "for you ought to have remembered that the van always should protect the rear." King Robert, after the retreat of his brother's force upon Carrickfergus, was necessitated by his own affairs to return to Scotland. That we may have no occasion to revert to the subject afterwards, we shall state briefly in this place the catastrophe which, in the following year, closed the career ot Scottish sovereignty in Ireland. Eor some time the gallant but rash Edward maintained a precarious authority in Ulster. In the month of October, 13 18, he lay encamped at Fagher, near Dundalk, with an army amounting to about 2000 men, exclusive of the native Irish, who, though numerous, were not much to be depended on. The Anglo-Irish approached his position under the command of Lord John Berming- ham. Their force was strong in cavalry, and out- numbered the Scots by nearly ten to one. Contrary to the counsel of his officers, Edward engaged with the enemy and was slain almost at the first onset; an event which was speedily followed by the total dis- comfiture of his army. John Maupas, by whose hand Edward fell, was found, after the battle, stretched dead over the body of the prince. Edward of England, like all kings who are weak and obsti- nate, could also, when he dared, be wicked. Affect- ing to consider the gallant enemy who now had fallen in the light of a traitor or rebellious subject, the corpse was subjected to the ignominies conse- quent upon the punishment of such, being quartered and exposed to view in four different quarters of the island. The head was carried over to England, and presented to Edward by Bermingham himself, who obtained the dignity of Earl of Lowth for his services. During the absence of King Robert in Ireland, the English made various attempts to disturb the tranquillity of Scotland, which all happily proved abortive. The Earl of Arundel, with a numerous force, invaded the forest of Jedburgh; but falling into an ambush prepared for him by Douglas, he was defeated. Edmund de Cailand, the governor of Berwick, having made an inroad into Teviotdale, was attacked by the same victorious commander, and himself and many of his followers slain. The same fate befell Robert Neville, a knight, then resi- dent at Berwick, who had boastingly declared that he would encounter Douglas so soon as he dared to display his banner in that neighbourhood. The English also invaded Scotland with a considerable force by sea, coming to anchor off the town ot Invcr- keithing in the Firth of Forth. The panic cau-ed by the unexpected appearance of this armament was great; and only 500 men under the command Earl of Fife, and sheriff of the county, wer : to oppose their landing. When the Fnglish cast anchor, so much terror did they inspire, that the force drawn up against them hastily retn They had scarcely, however, thus o mr selves, when they were me: by William Sii Bishop of Dunke'ld, at the h ;■ < I -ixty horse, advancing in all haste to assist in repelling the invaders. "Whither in such haste?" said he to the disordered rout; "v. u deserve to have -.our 214 ROBERT BRUCE. gilt spurs hacked off." Putting himself then at the head of the little troop, and seizing a spear, the bold e -lesiastic continued — "Who loves his king, or his country, turn with me!" The spirit of this challenge rallied the fugitives; the English, who had not yet completed their landing, were panic-struck in turn, and driven back to their ships with great loss. Five hundred, it is asserted, were killed upon the strand, and many drowned by the swamping of an overloaded boat. When King Robert was in- formed of this gallant exploit, he said, "Sinclair shall always after be my own bishop;" and long after was the prelate honourably remembered by the title of the kings bishop. Baffled in these attempts, and under serious ap- prehensions for the safety of his own borders, the English king contrived, about this time, to employ in his favour the spiritual weapons of Rome; and John XXII., the then pope, issued a bull command- ing a truce for two years between the two hostile kingdoms, under pain of excommunication. Two cardinals, privately instructed to denounce the pon- tifical censures, should they see fit, upon Bruce and "whomsoever else," were despatched to make known these commands to the two kings. The cardinals arrived in England, and in prosecution of their errand sent two messengers, the Bishop of Corbeil and Master Aumery, into Scotland with the letters and instructions intended for the .Scottish king. Robert listened to the message delivered by these nuncios with attention, and heard read the open letters from the pope; but when those sealed and addressed "Robert Bruce, governor of Scotland," were produced, he firmly declined receiving them. "Among my barons," said he, "there are many of the name of Robert Bruce, who share in the govern- ment of Scotland. These letters may possibly be addressed to one of them; but they are not addressed to me, who am king of Scotland." The messengers attempted to apologize for this omission, by saying that "the holy church was not wont, during the dependence of a controversy, to say or do aught which might prejudice the claims of either contend- ing party." "Since then," replied the king, "my spiritual father and my holy mother would not pre- judice the cause of my adversary by bestowing on me the title of king during the dependence of the controversy, they ought not to have prejudiced my cause by withdrawing that title from me. It seems that my parents are partial to their English son, Had you, ' added he, with resolute but calm dignity, "presumed to present letters with such an address to any other sovereign prince, you might perhaps have been answered more harshly; but I reverence you as the messengers of the holy see." In conse- quence of the failure of this negotiation, the cardinals resolved to proceed with their further instructions, and proclaim the papal truce in Scotland. In an enterprise so hazardous, the Roman legates were at some loss how to proceed; but at length they fell upon a devoted monk of the name of Adam Newton, who was willing to risk himself in the service. Newton being fully charged with his commission, and intrusted with letters to some of the Scottish clergy, proceeded forthwith upon his journey. He found the Scottish kinig encamped with his army in a wood near Old Cambus, busily engaged in making preparations for the assault of Berwick. He was denied admission to the royal presence, but ordered, at the same time, to deliver what letters or messages he might have to the king's seneschal or clerk. These were quickly returned to him, unopened, with the brief verbal answer, "I will listen to no bulls until I am treated as King of Scotland, and have made myself master of Berwick." The poor monk, en- vironed, as he himself expresses it, with danger, and troubled how to preserve his papers and his own mortal life, entreated that he might have a safe-con- duct to pass further into Scotland, or at least that he might return without peril to Berwick; but both requests were denied him, and he was ordered to leave the country without delay. On his road to Berwick he was encountered by four armed ruffians, who stripped him of all his papers and effects, and even of the greater part of his clothes. Thus ended this memorable transaction with the papal court, in a manner very unusual for that age; but the weak- ness and injustice of Edward, and the injustice and servilky of Rome, were so obvious in it, that Robert, secure otherwise in the affections of his subjects, both clerical and laical, could safely deride and defy the effects of both. While Robert, for some reason or other which has not been explained, had given over his prepara- tions for the siege of Berwick, the treachery of one of the inhabitants, of the name of Spalding, who had been harshly treated by the governor, occurred to render the attainment of his object both easy and sure. This person wrote a letter to the Earl of March, to whom he was distantly connected by marriage, offering to betray, on a certain night, that post on the wall where he kept guard. The noble- man, not daring of himself to engage in such an enterprise, communicated the intelligence to the king. "You have done well," said Robert, "in making me your confident; for, if you had told this to either Randolph or Douglas, you would have offended the one whom you did not trust. You shall now, however, have the aid of both." By the king's directions, the Earl of March assembled his troops at a certain place, where, on an appointed day and hour, he was joined by the forces of Ran- dolph and Douglas. Thus cautiously assembled, the army by a night march approached the town. Having reached the appointed part of the walls, near to that place still known by the name of the Cow- port, they, with the assistance of Spalding, scaled the walls, and were, in a few hours, masters of the town. The castle, after a brief siege, in which the king assisted in person, was forced to surrender. Scotland, by this event, was at length wholly re- gained to its ancient sovereignty; and, though the town was in an after reign retaken by the English, so pertinaciously was the old right to it maintained at the union of the two kingdoms, that, as a com- promise, it was legislatively allowed to belong to neither kingdom, and it still forms a distinct and in- dependent portion of the British dominions. The Scottish army, after the reduction of Berwick, invaded England by Northumberland; took by siege the castles of Werk and Harbolth, and that of Mit- ford by surprise. These events occurred in the spring of 1318. In May of the same year, the Scots penetrated into Yorkshire, burned the towns of Northallerton, Boroughbridge, Scarborough, and Skipton, and returned home loaded with spoil, and, saysan Knglish author, "driving theirprisoners before them like flocks of sheep." Bruce was at this time solemnly, excommunicated by the pope's legate in England; but so little was this sentence regarded, that, in a parliament which was assembled at Scone, the whole clergy and laity of the kingdom renewed their allegiance to the king; and by a memorable mode of expression, by which, doubtless, they meant to include the pope as well as the King of England, solemnly engaged to protect the rights and liberties of Scotland against all mortals, however eminent thy may be in penoer, authority, and dignity. ROBERT BRUCE. 215 By a temporary reconciliation of the factions of his kingdom, Edward was enabled, in the succeeding year, to attempt the recapture of Berwick. The place had been left by Robert under the command of the Stewart, with a strong garrison, and was plentifully stored with provisions. To prevent the approach of succours, the English drew lines of countervallation round it; and confident in their numbers, commenced a general and vigorous assault. After a long and desperate contest they were re- pulsed. They next made their attacks more syste- matically on various places, and often simultaneously, aided by engines and contrivances which are curiously and minutely described by ancient historians; but these attempts, admirably conducted as they were, according to the engineering science of that day, proved abortive. One of those engines used by the English was called a s. As nearly as can be ascertained, it was a huge fabric, reaching in height above the top of the wall, and composed of beams of timber, well roofed, having stages within it. It moved upon wheels, and was calculated for the double purpose of conducting miners to the foot of the wall, and armed men for scaling it. To oppose this and other such machines, the Scots, under the direction of one John Crab, a Fleming, had provided themselves with movable engines called cranes, similar to the catapultce of the ancients, capable of throwing large stones with great projectile force. As the sow advanced, however, the besieged were dismayed. The engineer by whom the monstrous edifice had been constructed had, meantime, be- come a prisoner to the Scots, who, actuated by a very unjust revenge upon the man's ingenuity and their own fears, brought him to that part of the wall against which the engine was directed, threatening him with instant death should he be slack in its destruction. Thus prompted, he caused one of the cranes formerly mentioned to be placed directly opposite the approaching machine, and prepared to work it with all his art. The first stone, launched with prodigious force, flew beyond the object aimed at; the second, discharged with diminished power, fell within the mark. There was time only for a third trial, upon the success of which all seemed to depend, as the engine was coming close to the walls. The third great stone passed in an oblique and nearly perpendicular line, high into the air, making a loud whizzing noise as it rose, and whether owing to chance or art, it fell with a dread- ful crash upon the devoted machine now so nearly within reach of its destination. The terrified men within instantly rushed from beneath their cover; and the besieged upon the walls, raising a loud shout, called out to them, "that their great sow had far- rowed." Grappling irons were quickly fastened upon the shattered apparatus, and it was set on fire. While all this was transacting upon the land side of Berwick, its worn-out garrison had to sustain an assault no less desperate from the estuary, where, by means of vessels having falling-bridges mid-mast high, by which to reach the top of the walls, the city was vigorously and almost successfully stormed. These and various other desperate attempts seemed in no way to exhaust the ardour of the besiegers; and they did not lessen, though they tempered, the con- fidence of the besieged. King Robert, unable from the strength and fortified position of the English army, to break up the siege, at the same time saw that if the Stewart were not relieved he must soon surrender. In this emergency he resolved, by a destructive invasion of England, to make a diversion in his favour, and if possible draw off the forces of Edward. This expedi- tion was committed to the charge of Randolph and Douglas, who, entering England by the western marches, penetrated into Yorkshire. It is asserted that they entertained some scheme of carrying off the wife of Edward from her residence near York. Dis- appointed in this, they wasted that rich province with fire and sword. The archbishop hastily col- lected a numerous but ill-assorted army, great part of which is said to have been composed of ecclesi- astics, and placing himself at their head, determined to check the invaders. The Scots then lay encamped at Mitton near Boroughbridge, in the north riding of Yorkshire. The English, on coining up with that hardy, disciplined, and successful army, were charged with such fury, that, scarcely waiting to strike a blow, they gave way, and three thousand are reported to have been slain in the rout. From the number of churchmen who fell in this battle, it was afterwards popularly named the Chapter of Mitton. The effects which Bruce expected from this invasion of England were not miscalculated. The news of the devastations and successes of the Scots no sooner reached Berwick, than a retreat was re- solved upon, and it would seem judiciously, as, had the now unopposed career of the Scots continued many days longer, the damage to England must have been immeasurably great. On retiring from before Berwick, Edward attempted, unsuccessfully, to in- tercept Douglas and Randolph on their return. After some brief negotiations, a truce of two years was con- cluded between the two nations. The following year (1320) was remarkable for a bold and spirited manifesto from the estates of Scot- land to the pope. His holiness is told, in one part of this singular document, that Robert, "like another Joshua, or a Judas Maccabeus, gladly endured toils, distresses, the extremities of want, and every peril, to rescue his people and inheritance out of the hands of the enemy. Our due and unanimous consent," say they, "has made him our chief and king. To him in defence of our liberty we are bound to adhere, as well of right as by reason of his deserts, and to him we will in all things adhere; for through him salvation has been wrought unto our people. Should he abandon our cause, or aim at reducing us and our kingdom under the dominion of the English, we will instantly strive to expel him as a public enemy, and the subverter of our rights and his own, and we will choose another king to rule and protect us; for, while there exist an hundred of us, we will never submit to England. We fight not for glory, wealth, or honour, but for that liberty which no virtuous man will survive." After describing with much animation the English king's ambition and injustice, and praying the interposition of his holiness, the manifesto proceeds: — "Should you, however, give a too credulous ear to the reports of our enemies, dis- trust the sincerity of our professions, and persist in favouring the English, to our destruction, we hold you guilty in the sight of the most high Cod, of the loss of lives, the perdition of souls, and all the other miserable consequences which may ensue from war between the two contending nations."' The pope, however much he may have been inct boldness, appears also to have been alarme :. In a bull which he shortly afterwards sent to E Iward, he strongly recommends pacific measures, ami bestows upon Bruce the ambiguous title of "Regent oi the kingdom of Scotland." The parliament which c!i>tinguMi< 1 it« If by this spirited and honourable measure wa*, 1:1 the course of its sitting, engaged in 1 ne of a m re un] character. This was the investigation > fio nspiracy in which some of the highest men in the kingdom 2l6 ROBERT BRUCE. were implicated. The affair is now, from the loss of records, but indistinctly understood. After a trial of the conspirators, Soulis and the Countess of Strathem were condemned to perpetual imprison- ment. Gilbert de Malerb and John de Logie, both knights, and Richard Brown, an esquire, were found guilty of treason, and suffered accordingly. Roger de Mowbray died before sentence; yet, according to a practice long retained in Scottish law in cases of treason, judgment was pronounced upon the dead body. The king, however, was pleased to mitigate this rigour, and the corpse was allowed the honours of sepulture. The fate of David de Brechin, the king's nephew, who suffered on this occasion, excited uni- versal and deep compassion. His crime alone lay in the concealing of the treason, which was communi- cated to him under an oath of secrecy. He had neither approved of nor participated in it; yet not- withstanding these alleviations, and his near relation- ship to the king, he was made an example of rigorous though impartial justice. This parliament was, in reference to this transaction, long remembered popu- larly under the appellation of tlu black parliament. During the inactive period of the truce, various methods were used towards effecting a peace between England and Scotland, but without effect. The pope as well as the French king offered their services for this purpose; but the exultation of Edward, from having successfully crashed the Lancasterian faction which had so long disturbed his rule, made him deaf to moderate counsels. "Give yourself," says he to the pope, "no further solicitude about a truce with the Scots. The exigencies of my affairs inclined me formerly to listen to such proposals; but now I am resolved to establish peace by force of arms." While he was engaged in these preparations, the Scots penetrated by the western marches into Lancashire, committing their wonted devastations, and returned home loaded with spoil. The King of Scots, who at this time found no occasion for a general engage- ment with his greatly superior enemy, fell upon a simple and effectual expedient to render such an event unlikely, if not impossible. All the cattle and provisions of the Merse, Teviotdale, and the Lothians, he ordered to be removed into inaccessible or secure places; an order which was so exactly executed, that, according to tradition, the only prey which fell into the hands of the English was one solitary bull at Tranent, which, from lameness, had been unable to travel along with the other cattle, "is that all ye have got?" said the Earl Warenne to the spoilers as they returned to the camp; "I never saw so dear a beast." Edward advanced without opposition to the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, where, having in vain waited for some time for supplies from his fleet, he was necessitated, from absolute famine, to retire. In their countermarch into England, the soldiers committed whatever outrages were possible in so desolate a route. Their license even got the better of their superstition. Monks, who believed that the sanctity of their character would have protected them, were wantonly murdered, and their monasteries and abbeys plundered and burned. When this un- fortunate army got once more into the plenty of their own country, it was little better with them; for, in proportion as their privations had been extreme, their indulgences were excessive; and an English historian has left it on record, that almost one-half of the great army which Edward had led into Scotland was destroyed either by hunger or intemper- ance. The remains of the English army had scarcely once more been restored to order, when the Scot>, who had followed closely upon their rear, entered England, and laid siege to the castle of Norham. Edward himself then lay at the abbey of Biland in York- shire, the main body of his troops being encamped in a strong position in the neighbourhood, supposed to be accessible only by one narrow pass. The Scots, commanded by Robert in person, suddenly raising the siege, marched onward in the hope of finding the English unprepared, or, as some say, of seizing the person of Edward, by the aid of some of that monarch's treacherous attendants. This latter design, if at all entertained, which is not improbable, must have been found too difficult to execute. Douglas resolved to force the defile within which the English had entrenched themselves; and Randolph, leaving his own peculiar command in the army, determined to join his friend in the enterprise. The defence was obstinate; and the men of Douglas must have been obliged to retire, had not an unexpected aid come to their relief. The King of Scots, who commanded the main body of his army on the plain, perceiving the difficulty, if not impractica- bility, of the adventure of his two brave generals, fell upon the only means of extrication and success. Between the two armies lay a long craggy hill of very difficult access, except through the narrow pass of which we have made mention, and which the body of men under Douglas were vainly endeavour- ing to force. A party of Highlanders from Argyle and the Isles, admirably suited for the service, were ordered, at some little distance, to scale the emi- nences, and so gain command of the pass from the ground above, where they might, with signal effect, annoy the English underneath and in flank. The manoeuvre was successfully executed, the pass carried, and the whole English army shortly after put to complete rout. They were pursued by the Stewart to the gates of York, and Edward himself escaped to the same place with the greatest difficulty, abandoning all his baggage and treasure, and leaving behind him even the privy seal of his kingdom. This was the last battle in which this undeserving and equally unfortunate prince engaged the Scots; and it may be curious to remark how, in its result, it bore- some resemblance to the disaster and shame of the first. The Scots, after committing extensive devas- tations on the unprotected and dispirited country, returned home, carrying along with them many prisoners and an immense booty. From this period to the accession of Edward III. to the throne of England in 1327, there occurred little which can properly come within our province to relate. A truce for fifteen years was with much willingness acceded to by the English king, who could never, however, be induced to relinquish his claim of sovereignty over Scotland. The pope was much pressed, particularly in an embassy conducted by Randolph, to permit the reconciliation of Robert with the church; but the King of Scots, as yet, pos- sessed too little interest in that venal court to obtain such a concession. The pontiff, however, showed all the favour he could, consistent with such a denial; and though pressed by Edward, under various pre- tences, to renew the publication of his former censures, would by no means comply. The King of France was more honourable and just, though pro- bably, at the same time, politic, and concluded, in 1326, a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, with Scotland. On the accession of Edward III. hostilities almost immediately re-commenced between the two kingdoms. That these originated on the side of the Scots seems generally allowed; but the motives which led to them are now only matter of conjecture. One historian assigns as the cause, that the Scots ROBERT BRUCE REV. ROBERT BRUCE. 217 had detected the general bad faith of the English. According to Barbour, the ships of that nation had seized upon several Scottish ships bound for the Low Countries, slain the mariners, and refused to give satisfaction. That the King of Scotland during the then weak state of the counsels of England, had determined to insist upon the full recognition of his title, seems to have been, from the decisiveness of his preparations, the true, or more important, motive of the war. The campaign which followed, though, perhaps, as curious and interesting as any which occurred during these long wars, cannot be entered upon in this place, at length sufficient to render it instructive; and it much more properly falls to be described in the lives of those two great generals, Randolph and Douglas, by whom it was conducted. The enterprise, on the part of England, was pro- ductive of enormous expense to that kingdom; and it terminated not only without advantage, but with- out honour. The so long desired peace between the two kingdoms was now near at hand. To attain this had been the grand and constant aim of all King Robert's policy; and the court of England seemed at length persuaded of the immediate necessity of the measure. A negotiation was therefore entered into, and brought to a happy issue in a parliament held at Northampton in April, 1328. The principal articles were the recognition of King Robert's titles; the independent sovereignty of the kingdom; and the marriage of Johanna, King Edward's sister, to David, the son and heir of the King of Scots. Robert survived not long this consummation of his political life. He had for some time laboured under an inveterate distemper, in those clays called a leprosy; a consequence of the fatigues, hardships, and suffer- ings which, to such an unparalleled degree, he had endured in the early part of his career. It was pro- bably the same disease as that with which he was afflicted prior to the battle of Inverury; but though, at that time, the ardour of youth and enterprise, and a naturally powerful constitution, had triumphed over its malignity, Robert seemed now fully aware that it must prove mortal. The two last years of his life were spent in comparative seclusion, in a castle at Cardross, situated on the northern shore of the Firth of Clyde; where, from documents still extant, Robert passed these few peaceful, though embittered days of his life, in a style of munificence everyway be- coming his high station. Much of his time was devoted to the construction of ships; and whether he himself joined personally in such amusements or not, the expense of aquatic and fishing excursions, hawking, and other sports, appears to have formed a considerable item of his domestic disbursements. From the same authentic source it is pleasing to observe that his charities to the poor were regular and befitting. Robert the First of Scotland died in this retirement, on the 7th day of June, 1329, in the fifty-fifth year of his age and twenty-third year of his reign. Prior to this event a remarkable and affecting scene is recorded to have taken place between the dying monarch and several of his esteemed counsellors and companions in arms. Having spoke to these, generally, upon matters connected with the ordering and well-being of his kingdom, Robert called Sir James Douglas to his couch, and addressed him in somewhat the following manner: — "Sir James, my dear and gallant friend, you know well the many troubles and severe hardships I have undergone in recovering and defending the rights "I my crown and people, for you have shared in them all. When I was hardest beset of all, I made a vow, that if I ever overcame my difficulties, I would assume the cross, and devote the remainder of my days to warring against the enemies of our Lord and Saviour. But it has pleased Providence, by this heavy malady, to take from me all hope of accomplishing what, in my heart and soul, I have earnestly desired. There- fore, my dear and faithful companion, knowing no knight more valiant, or better fitted than yourself for such a service, my earnest desire is, that when I am dead, you take my heart with you to Jerusalem, and deposit it in the holy sepulchre, that my soul may be so acquitted from the vow which my body is unable to fulfil." All present shed tears at this discourse. "My gallant and noble king," said Douglas, "] have- greatly to thank you for the many and large bounties which you have bestowed upon me; but chiefly, and above all, I am thankful, that you consider me worthy to be intrusted with this precious charge of your heart, which has ever been full of prowess and goodness; and I shall most loyally perform this last service, if Cod grant me life and power." The king tenderly thanked him for his love and fidelity, saying, "I shall now die in peace." Immediately after Robert's decease, his heart was taken out, as he had enjoined, and the body deposited under a rich marble monument, in the choir of the Abbey church of Dunfermline. So died that heroic, and no less patriotic monarch, to whom the people of Scotland, in succeeding ages, have looked back with a degree of national pride and affection, which it has been the lot of few men in any age or country to inspire. From a state of profligate degeneracy and lawless barbarity, origi- nating in, and aggravated by, a foreign dominion and oppression, he raised the poor kingdom of Scot- land to a greater degree of power and security than it had ever before attained; and by a wise system of laws and regulations, forming, in fact, the constitu- tion of the popular rights and liberties, secured to posterity the benefit of all the great blessings which his arms and policy had achieved. BRUCE, Robert, an eminent divine of the six- teenth century, a collateral relation of the sovereign who bore the same name, and ancestor, at the sixth remove, of the illustrious Abyssinian traveller, was born about the year 1554, being the second son of Sir Alexander Bruce of Airth in Stirlingshire, by Janet, daughter of Alexander, fifth Lord Livingston, and Agnes, daughter of the second Farl of Morton. We learn from Birrel's diary, a curious chronicle of the sixteenth century, that Sir Alexander, the father of this pious divine, was one of those power:.;'. Scottish barons who used to be always attended by a retinue of armed servants, and did not scruple, even in the streets of the capital, to attack any equally powerful baron with whom they were at feud, and whom they might chance to meet. Birrel tells us, for instance, that on "the 24th of Novem- ber, 1567, at two in the afternoon, the laird of Airth and the laird of Weeims [ancestor of the Farl of Wemyss] mett upon the heigh gait ol Fdinburghe [the High Street], and they and thair followers taught a vcrcy bloudy skirmish, wher ther wes maney hurte on both sydes by shote of pistole." Thi of the subject of this memoir was : :.. cadet of the Braces of Clackmann : . ■■ . in tin reign of James I. of Scotland, had marri - the eldest daughter of William de Airthe. an i - . the inheritance. The Braces whom, we believe, all the Braces - : v.r. /_ Clackmannanshire, Kinross, i\c. . . lir.g the Farl of Elgin), are descended, sj rung f: j of Robert de Brace, tl r v. :h 1 ali i : r the Scottish throne, and :':. : : re ur.eie to King 218 REV. ROBERT BRUCE. Robert. The reader may perhaps remember the proud saying of the last lady of Clackmannan, who, on being complimented by Robert Burns as belong- ing to the family of the Scottish hero, informed the poet, that King Robert belonged to her family: it will be seen from our present statement that the old lady made a slight mistake. While the eldest son of Sir Alexander Bmce was designed to inherit the property of Airth, a compara- tively small appanage, consisting of the lands of Kinnaird, was appropriated to Robert; but to eke out his provision for life, he was devoted, like many other cadets of Scottish families, to the profession of the law. With a view to qualify him for the bar he was sent to Paris, where he studied the principles of Roman jurisprudence under the most approved masters. Afterwards returning to his native country, he completed his studies at Edinburgh, and began to conduct his father's business before the Court of Session. That court was then, like the other parts of government, corrupt ami disordered; the judges were court partisans; and justice was too often dis- pensed upon the principles of an auction. Young Bruce, whose mind was already tinctured with an ardent sentiment of religion, shrunk appalled from a course of life which involved such moral enormities, and, without regarding the prospect of speedily becoming a judge, which his father, according to the iniquitous practice of the time, had secured for him by patent! he determined on devoting himself to the church. His parents, to whom the moral status of a clergyman in those days was as nothing compared with the nominal rank of a judge, combated this re- solution by all the means in their power, not except- ing the threatened withdrawal of his inheritance. But Bruce, who felt what he considered a spiritual call towards his new profession, resigned his pre- tensions to the estate without a sigh, and, throwing off the embroidered scarlet dress which he had worn as a courtier, exchanged his residence at Edinburgh for the academical solitude of St. Andrews, where he commenced the study of theology. At this period Andrew Melville, the divinity pro- fessor of St. Andrews, was undergoing banishment on account of his opposition to the court; but being permitted to resume his duties in 1586, Bruce enjoyed the advantage of his prelections for the ensuing winter, and appears to have become deeply imbued with his peculiar spirit . In the summer of 15S7 he was brought to Edinburgh by Melville, and re- commended to the General Assembly as a fit suc- cess >r to the deceased Mr. Lawson, who, in his turn, had been the successor of Knox. This charge, how- ever, Bruce scrupled to undertake, lest he should be found unfit for its important duties; he would only consent to preach till the next synod, by way of trying his abilities. It appears that he filled the pulpit for some months, though not an ordained clergyman; which certainly conveys a strange im- pression of the rules of the church nt that period. He was even persuaded, on an emergency, to under- take tile task of dispensing the communion—which must be acknowledged as a still more remarkable breach of ecclesiastical rule. He was soon after called by the unanimous voice of the people to be- come their pastor; but partly perhaps from a con- scientious aversion to ordination, and partly from a respect to his former exertions, he would never sub- mit to any ceremonial, such as is considered neces- sary by all Christian churches in giving commission to a new member. I le judged the call of the people and the approbation of the ministry to be sufficient warrant for his undertaking this sacred profession. So rapidly did the reputation of Bruce advance among his brethren, that, in six months after this period, at an extraordinary meeting of the General Assembly, which was called to consider the means of defence against the Spanish Armada, he was chosen moderator. A charge was preferred to this court against a preacher named Gibson, who had uttered disrespectful language in his pulpit regarding King James. The accused party was charged to appear, and, failing to do so, was suspended for con- tumacy. There can be no doubt that the church was most reluctant to proceed to such an extremity with one of its members on a court charge; and its readi- ness to do so can only be accounted for, as necessi- tated in some measure, by the avowed constitution of the church itself, which repeatedly set forth that it did not claim an exemption for its members from ordinary law, but only desired that an impeached individual should first be tried by his brethren. Accordingly we find the conscience of the moderator immediately accusing him in a strange way for having yielded a brother to lay vengeance; for, on that night, he thought he heard a voice saying to him, in the Latin language, "Why hast thou been present at the condemnation of my servant ?" When the destruction of the Spanish Armada was known in Scotland, Bruce preached two thanksgiving sermons, which were published in 1 591, and display a strength of sentiment and language fully sufficient to vindicate the contemporary reputation of the author to pos- terity. Master Robert Bruce, 1 as he was styled in com- pliance with the common fashion of the time, figured conspicuously in the turbulent proceedings which, for some years after this period, characterized the eccle- siastical history of Scotland. By King James he seems to have been regarded with a mixture of re- spect, jealousy, and fear, the result of his powerful abilities, his uncompromising hostility to undue regal power, and the freedom with which he censured the follies and vices of the court. It was by no means in contradiction to these feelings that, when James sailed for Denmark in 1589 to bring home his queen, he raised Master Robert to the privy council, and invested him with a non-commissioned power of supervision over the behaviour of the people during his absence; telling him, at the same time, that he had more confidence in him and the other ministers of Edinburgh, than in the whole of his nobles. The king knew well enough that if he did not secure the exertions of the clergy on the side of the government during his absence they would certainly act against it. As might have been expected from the influence of the clergy, the usual disorders of the realm ceased entirely during the supremacy of this system of theocracy; and the chief honour of course fell upon Bruce. The turbulent Earl of Bothwell, who was the nominal head of the government, proposed, during James's absence, to make a public repentance for a life of juvenile profligacy. The strange scene, which exhibited the first man in the kingdom humbled for sin before an ordinary Christian congregation, took place on the 9th of November in the High Church. On this occasion Bruce preached a sermon from 2 Ti. ii. 22 26, which was printed among others in 1 59 1, and abounds in good sense, and in pointed and elegant language. When the sermon was ended the Earl of Bothwell upon his knees con- fessed his dissolute and licentious life, and with tears in his eyes uttered the following words- "1 wald to God, that I might mak sic a repentance as mine 1 Tin: affix Master appears to have been first used in Scotland as part of the style of the clergy. Throughout the whole i>f the seventeenth century it is not observed to have I een a] plied to any other class of men. REV. ROBERT fcRUCE. 219 heart craveth; and I desire you all to pray for it." But it was the repentance of Esau, and soon effaced by greater enormities. On the return of King James with his queen, in May, 1590, Bruce received the cordial thanks of his majesty for his zeal in composing differences during his absence, and his care in tutoring the people to behave decently before the queen and her Danish attendants. He was also honoured with the duty of placing the crown upon the queen's head at her cor- onation; which was considered a great triumph on the part of the Presbyterian church over the titu- lar bishops. In the ensuing June Bruce was him- self married to Margaret, daughter of Douglas of Parkhead, a considerable baron, who some years after rendered himself conspicuous by slaying James Stuart, Earl of Arran, who had been the favourite of King James, and the arch-enemy of the Presby- terian polity. The parents of Bruce appear to have been now reconciled to him, for, on the occasion of his marriage, they gave him back his inheritance of Kinnaird. The Protestant Church of Scotland had been so highly exasperated against the Catholics at the Re- formation, and was now so imminently threatened by them, that its conduct in regard to that body at this period bears very much the aspect of persecu- tion. Three Catholic earls, Huntly, Angus.and Errol, had entered into the views which Spain for some years entertained against both divisions of Britain; and they were now justly liable to the extreme vengeance of their sovereign for treason. James, however, never could be brought to put the laws fully in force against them, from a fear lest the Catholic party in general might thereby be provoked to oppose his succession to Elizabeth. The backwardness of James, and the forwardness of the clergy, in this cause, naturally brought them into violent collision, and as Bruce, next to Melville, was now the leader of the clergy, he became exceedingly odious to his sovereign. The following anecdote, related by an Episcopalian pamphleteer of a succeeding age, will illustrate their relative positions better than anything else. "It is to this day remembered/' says Maxwell, Bishop of Ross, in The Burden of Issachar, printed 1646, "that when Master Robert Bruce came from his visitation in the east, returning to Edinburgh, and entering by the Canongate, King James, look- ing out at his window in the palace of Holyrood House, with indignation (which extorted from him an oath), said, '.Master Robert Bruce, I am sure, intends to be king, and declare himself heir to King Robert de Bruce.' At another time, wishing to recall the three banished lords, Angus, Huntly, and Errol, James attempted to gain the consent of Master Robert, who possessed more power in Edinburgh, through his command of consciences, than the sovereign himself, being ushered into the king's bed-chamber, James opened unto him his views upon the English crown, and his fears le>t the Papists in Scotland, of whom these lords were the chief, should contrive to join with their brethren in England, and raise obstacles to his succession. He continued, 'Do you not think it fit, Master Robert, that I give them a pardon, restore them to their honour and lands, and by doing so gain them, that thus I may save the effusion of Christian blood?' To this demand, so piously made, the answer was, 'Sir, you may pardon Angus and Errol. and recall them; but it is not fit, nor will you ever obtain my consent, to pardon or recall Huntly.' To this the most gracious king sweetly replied, 'Master Robert, it were better for me to paid' >n and recall him without the other two, than the other two without him: first, because you know he hath a greater command, and is more powerful than the other two; secondly, you knuw I am more assured of his affection to me, for he hath married my near and dc-ar kinswoman the Duke of Lennox his sister.' His rejoinder was, 'Sir, I tan- not agree to it.' The king desiring him to consider it, dismissed him; but when sent f,, r once more, Mr. Robert still continued inexorable: '1 agree with all my heart,' said he, 'that you recall Angus and Errol; but for Huntly it cannot be.' The king resumed, and repeated his reasons before mentioned, and added some more; but he obstinately opposed ami contradicted it. . . . King James desired his reasons; he gave none, but spoke majestically. Then the king told him downright, 'Master Robert, I have told you my purpose; you see how nearly it concerneth me; I have given you my reasons for my resolutions; you give me your opinion, but you strengthen it net with reasons. Therefore, I will hold my resolution, and do as I first spoke to you.' To which, with Christian and subject-like reverence, Bruce returned this reply, 'Well, sir, you may do as you list; but choose you, you shall not have me and the Earl of Huntly both for you.'" Though this tale is told by an enemy, it bears too many characteristic marks to be altogether false; and certainly it presents a most expressive picture of the comparative importance of the leader of the Scottish church and the leader of the Scottish state. Maxwell insinuates interested and unworthy motives for Bruce's conduct on this occasion; but the whole tenor of the man's life dis- proves their reality. There can be no doubt that lie was actuated solely by a fear for the effect which Huntly's great territorial influence might have upon the Scottish church. To show that his conduct on this occasion was by no means of an uncommon kind, we may relate another anecdote. On the 6th of June, 1592, the king came to the Little Kirk, to hear Bruce's sermon. In his discourse Bruce moved the question, "What could the great disobedience of the land mean now, while the king was present ? seeing some reverence was borne to his shadow while absent." To this he himself answered, that it was the universal contempt of his subjects. He, therefore, exhorted the king "to call to Cod, before he either ate or drank, that the Lord would give him a resolu- tion to execute justice on malefactors, although it should be with the hazard of his life: which, if he would enterprise courageously, the Lord would raise enough to assist, and all his impediments w< uhl vanish away. Otherwise," said he, in conclusion, "you will not be suffered to enjoy your crown alone, but erery man will have one." When we find the king obliged to submit to such rebukes as this before his subjects, can we wonder at his finding it a diffi- cult task to exact obedience from those subjects either to himself or the laws? The extraordinary power of the Scottish church came at length to a period. During a violent con- tention between the church and court in 1596, partisans of the former were betrayed by the into a kind of riot, which was construe 1 into an attack upon his person. The re: sioncd by this event, and the increased \ oiw r \ he now possessed in virtue of his near the English throne, enabled him to take full advan- tage of their imprudence in imposing certain re -'.ra- tions upon the church of .in Epi-copal ten Bruce, who preached the sermon which ; receded the riot, found it necessary, tin ugh n> t therw;-e cerned, to flee to England. He :. 1 iv«t ] r .ere j er- mission to return f r - 11 e m 1 ths. a', i even was not allowed to n - minister. Eur some time he .treated private. y in REV. ROBERT BRUCE. the houses of his friends. Nor was it till after a long course of disagreeable contentions with the court that he was received back into one of the parochial pulpits of Edinburgh. This was but the beginning of a series of troubles which descended upon the latter half of Bruce's life. In August, 1600, the king met with the strange adventure known by the name of the Gowrie con- spiracy. When he afterwards requested the ministers of Edinburgh to give an account of this affair to their congregations, ami offer up thanks for his deliverance, Bruce happened to be one of a considerable party who could not bring themselves to believe that lames ha'l been conspired against by the two young Ruth- vens, but rather were of opinion that the whole affair was a conspiracy of his own to rid himself of two men whom he had reason to hate. To King James, who wished to impress the nation with a sense of his wonderful deliverance, this scepticism was exceedingly annoying, for more reasons than one; and accordingly it was not surprising that he should have been dis- posed to take the sharpest measures with a recusant of so much popular influence as Bruce. "Ye have heard me, ye have heard my minister, ye have heard my council, ye have heard the Earl of Mar," ex- claimed the enraged monarch; yet all would not do. The chancellor then pronounced a sentence dictated by the council, prohibiting Bruce and three of his brethren to preach in the kingdom under pain of death. Bruce was not the man to be daunted or driven from his purpose when the liberties of his church and the maintenance of a good conscience were con- cerned. He had made up his mind to withstand, at all hazards, the now undisguised machinations of his infatuated monarch to crush the Presbyterian cause. In 1596, when the privy council was prosecuting David Black, minister of St. Andrew's, for certain expressions he had uttered in the pulpit, Bruce hea led a deputation of ministers to the king, to endeavour to bring about an accommodation. He declared with solemn earnestness, on behalf of him- self and his associates, "that if the matter concerned only the life of Mr. Black, or that of a dozen others, they would have thought it of comparatively trifling importance; but as it was the liberty of the gospel, and the spiritual sovereignty of the Lord Jesus, that was assailed, they could not submit, but must oppose- all such proceedings, to the extreme hazard of their lives." This declaration moved the king at the time, and wrung tears from his eyes; but the relentings of his better nature were soon overcome by his courtiers. He was but too anxious to get so formidable an opponent as Bruce out of the way, and the present occasion afforded him a favourable opportunity. Bruce, after spending some time as a prisoner in Airth, his paternal seat, embarked at Q U( -'<-' ns fc-rry on the 5th of November, 1600, for Dieppe, in Normandy, which he reached in five days. Next year he was allowed to return to his native country, although not to reside in Edinburgh. He had two interviews with James, one of them at the very moment when his majesty mounted horse on his journey to England. But the minions of the court and friends of the Episcopal religion contrived to prevent his offers of submission from having their due weight. He was formally deposed in 1605, and sent to Inverness, which was then a frequent place of banishment for obnoxious clergymen. There he remained for eight years, only exercising his gifts in a private way, but still with the best effect upon the rude people who heard him. In 1613 his son procured permission for his return to Kinnaird, upon the condition that he would confine himself to that place. There, however, he soon found himself very painfully situated on account of the comparatively dissolute manners of the neigh- bouring clergy, who are said to have persecuted him in return for the freedom he used in censuring their behaviour. He obtained leave from the privy council to retire to a more sequestered house at Monkland, near Bothwell, where, however, he soon attracted the notice of the Bishop of Glasgow on account of the crowds which flocked to hear him. He was obliged to return to Kinnaird. In 1621 the Scottish parliament was about to pass the famed articles of Berth, in order to bring back something like uniformity with England in the national system of worship. Bruce could not restrain his curiosity to witness this awful infliction upon the church; he took advantage of some pressing piece of private business to come to Edinburgh. The bishops watched the motions of their powerful enemy with vigilance, and he was soon observed. They entered a petition and complaint before the council, and he was com- mitted to Edinburgh Castle for several months, after which he was again banished to Inverness. Some of the lords of the council who were his friends wrote to court, in order to have the place of confinement fixed at his family seat; but James had heard of the effect of his preachings at that place, and returned for answer — "It is not for the love of him that ye have written, but to entertain a schism in the kirk; we will have no more popish pilgrimages to Kinnaird (in allusion to the frequent intercourse between Bruce and the pious people of the surrounding country); he shall go to Inverness." The king never forgave his scepticism of the Gowrie conspiracy, although this was the occasion rather than the cause of the persecution which tracked him in his latter years. He remained at Inverness till the death of James, in 1625, when he obtained permission once more to reside at his own house. He was even allowed, for some time after this, to preach in several of the parish churches around Edinburgh, whither large crowds flocked to hear him. At length, in 1629, Charles wrote to the council, requesting that he might again be confined to Kinnaird, or the space of two miles around it. The church of I.aibert having been neglected by the bishops, and left in ruins without either minister or stipend, he had repaired it at his own expense; and now finding it within the limits of his confinement, he preached there every Sunday to a numerous and eager audience. At one of his sermons, either in that church or in the neighbourhood, he gained a proselyte who vindicated his cause, and that of Pres- byterians in general, a few years after. This was the celebrated Alexander Henderson, minister at Leuchars, in Fife, whom he was the means of con- verting, by preaching from the first verse of the tenth chapter of St. John's Gospel. Bruce had nowlived tosee theScottish Presbyterian church altered for an imperfect Episcopacy, and as he prepared for the fate which threescore and ten years had long marked out for him, he must have felt convinced that what remained of his favourite system could not long survive him. The revival of the Presbyterian polity, in all its pristine glory, was reserved in its proper time for his pupil Henderson. Exhausted with the infirmities of age, he was for some time almost confined to his chamber; yet, as he laboured under no active disease, his end advanced slowly. On the 13th of August, 163 1, having breakfasted with his family in the usual manner, he felt death approaching, and warned his children that his Master called him. With these words he- desired a Bible to be brought, and finding that his sight was gone, he requested his daughter to place his hand on the two last verses of chap. viii. of the REV. ROBERT BRUCE — Romans. These were highly expressive of his life, his resolution, and his hopes. When his hand was fixed on the words, he remained for a few mo- ments satisfied and silent. He had only strength to add, "Now God be with you, my children; I have breakfasted with you, and shall sup to-night with the Lord Jesus Christ." He then closed his eyes and peacefully expired. Such was the end of the long and varied life of Robert Bruce. His bold and comprehensive mind, his stern independence, and stainless integrity, are qualities which, under every disadvantage, procure the respect of mankind, and indicate superior char- acter. Less violent than Melville, more enlightened than Knox, he viewed with a brighter and milder eye the united interests of the church and nation. Had he chosen to accommodate himself to the tem- porizing spirit of the age, he might have stood high in royal favour, and become, in point of political influence, the first man of the age. But the true greatness of his character as a Christian minister and a patriot, which shone brightest in adversity, would never have appeared; nor would the services have been rendered to his church and country which con- tributed to secure to them those blessings of national freedom and liberty of conscience which have de- scended to our own times, and which it should be our study to preserve and transmit to future genera- tions. James VI. found in men like Bruce, and in the church of which he was an ornament, formidable obstacles to the civil and spiritual despotism which he had destined for his Scottish subjects; hence his fear of both was equal to his dislike. Impartial history indorses not the later but the earlier judg- ment of the king, who was so sensible of the valuable services of the church in preserving public tran- quillity during his absence in Denmark on the occa- sion of his marriage, that in his letters to Bruce he declared that he was "worth the quarter of his kingdom." The person of Robert Bruce was tall and dignified. His countenance was majestic, and his appearance in the pulpit grave, and expressive of much authority. His manner of delivery was, in the words of a Pres- byterian historian, "an earthquake to his hearers, and he rarely preached but to a weeping auditory." It- is told, as an instance of the effect of his sermons, that a poor Highlander one day came to him after he had concluded, and offered to him his whole wealth (two cows), on condition that he would make God his friend. Accustomed to continual prayer and intense meditation on religious subjects, his ardent imagination at times appears to have lost itself in visions of the divine favour; a specious but natural illusion, by which the most virtuous minds have been deceived and supported when reason and philosophy have been summoned in vain. His knowledge of the Scriptures was extensive, and accurate beyond the attainment of his age. His skill in the languages, and the sciences of those times, not to mention his acquaintance with the laws and constitution of the kingdom, a branch of knowledge possessed by few of his brethren, was equal, if not superior, to that of any of the Scottish reformers. His sermons, of which sixteen were printed in his lifetime, display a boldness of expres- sion, regularity of style, and force of argument, seldom to be found in the Scottish writers of the sixteenth century. A translation of their rich idiom- atic Scottish into the English tongue was printed in 1617, and is that which is now most common in Scotland. This great man was buried within the church of Larbert, in which he had often preached during the MRS. MARY BRUNTON. 221 latter part of his life. People assembled from all quarters to attend his funeral; and, according to Calderwood, between four and five thousand persons followed his corpse to the grave. It is impossible to conclude this narrative of his life, without remarking how much of his person and character revived in the Abyssinian Bruce, his descendant in the sixth degree, whose person was also majestic, and whose mind, while diminished a little in utility by hasty passion and a want of accommodation to circumstances, was also of the most powerful cast, and calculated to produce a great impression upon those around it. BRUNTON, Mrs. Mary, an eminent moral novelist of the present century, was bom in the island of Burra, in Orkney, November 1, 1778. Her father was Colonel Thomas Balfour of Llwiek, a cadet of one of the most respectable families in the county of Orkney. Her mother was Frances Ligonier, only daughter of Colonel Ligonier of the 1 5th dragoons, and niece of the Earl of Ligonier, under whose care she was educated. Previous to her sixteenth year, Mary Balfour had received some in- structions in music, and in French and Italian, from her mother, and her education was completed by a short residence at a boarding-school in Edinburgh. At the early age mentioned, she had to undertake the charge of her father's household, from which she was removed in her twentieth year, to be the wife of the Rev. Alex. Brunton, minister of the parish of Bolton in East Lothian. In the retirement and mo- derate elegance of a Scottish manse, Mrs. Brunton was only at first conspicuous for her attention to her household duties. Afterwards, however, the tastes of her husband led her gradually into habits of study, and she went, with his direction and assistance, through a course of reading in history, philosophy, criticism, and the belles lettres. The promotion of her husband to a ministerial charge at Edinburgh, which took place six years after her marriage, was favourable to the expansion and improvement of her intellect, by introducing her into a circle of society more enlightened than any in which she had hitherto moved. The native powers of her mind were slowly developed; she ripened from the simple housewife into the clear-minded and intelligent savanfe. Yet for many years she was only known as a well-informed but perfectly unpretending female. So far from displaying any disposition to active literature, she felt the composition of a letter to be burdensome. A trivial circumstance is said to have operated, with several other causes, in inducing her to attempt a regular work. She had often urged her husband to undertake some literary production, and once she appealed to an intimate friend, who was present, whether he would not publish it. This third party expressed a ready consent, but said he would at least as willingly publish a book of her own writing. This seemed at the time to strike her with a sense of her powers hitherto not entertained, and she asked more than once whether he was in earnest. She then appears to have commenced her novel en- titled Self- Control, of which she had finished a con- siderable part of the first volume before making even her husband privy to her design. In 1S11 the work was published at Edinburgh, in two volumes, and the impression which it made upon the public was immediate and decisive. It was acknow there were faults of a radical and most unfortunate kind — such as the perpetual danger to which the honour of the heroine was exposed (an intolerai le subject of fictitious writing!, but every one appre- ciated the beauty and correctness of the style, and the acuteness of observation and loftiness o\ senti- MRS. MARY BRUNTON - ALEXANDER BRYCE. ment which pervaded the whole. The modesty of Mrs. Brunton, which was almost fantastic, induced her to give this composition to the world without her name. Four years afterwards she published a second novel in three volumes, entitled Discipline, which was only admired in a degree inferior to the first. She afterwards commenced a third tale under the title Emnuline, which she did not live to finish. Mrs. Brunton had been married twenty years with- out being blessed with any offspring. In the summer of 1S1S, when a prospect of that blessing occurred, she became impressed with a belief that she should not survive. With a tranquillity, therefore, which could only be the result of great strength of mind, joined to the purest sentiments of religion and virtue, she made every preparation for death, exactly as if she had been about to leave her home upon a journey. The clothes in which she was to be laid in the grave were selected by herself; she herself had chosen and labelled some tokens of remembrance for her more intimate friends; and she even prepared, with her own hand, a list of the individuals to whom she wished intimations of her death to be sent. Yet these anticipations, though so deeply fixed, neither shook her fortitude nor diminished her cheerfulness. They neither altered her wish to live, nor the ardour with which she prepared to meet the duties of return- ing health, if returning health were to be her portion. To the inexpressible grief of her husband and friends, and, it may be said, of the literary world at large, the unfortunate lady's anticipations proved true. On the 7th of December she gave birth to a still-born son, and for some days recovered with a rapidity beyond the hopes of her medical attendants. A fever, however, took place, and, advancing with fatal violence, terminated her valuable life on the 19th, in the 41st year of her age. The whole mind and character of Mrs. Brunton was "one pure and perfect chrysolite" of excellence. We are so agreeably anticipated in an estimate of her worth by an obituary tribute paid to her memory by Mrs. Joanna Baillie, that we shall make no scruple for laying it before the reader: — " No more shall bed-rul pauper watch The gentle rising of the latch, And as she enters shift his place, To hear her voice and see her face. The helpless vagrant, oft relieved, From her hath his last dole received. The circle, social and enlightened, Whose evening hoars her converse brightened, H ive seen her quit the friendly door, Whose threshold she shall cross no more. And he. by holy ties endear'd, Whose life her love so sweetly cheer'd, Of her cold clay, the mind's void cell, tilth tae'n a speechless last farewell. Yea, those who never saw her face, Now did on blue horizon trace One mountain of her native land, N'ir turn that leaf with eager hand, On which appears the unfmish'd page, Of her whose works did oft engage Untir'd attention, interest dee]), While searching, healthful thoughts would creep To the heart's core, like balmy air, To leave a kindly feeling there, — An 1 gaze, till stain of fallen tears Upon the snowy blank appears. Now all who did her friendship claim With altered voice pronounce her name, And quickly turn, with wistful car, Her praise from stranger's lip to hear, And hoard, as saintly relics gain'd, Aught that to her hath e'er pertain'd." The last beautiful allusion is to the unfinished tale of Jimmdinc, which was published by her husband, Dr. Brunton (late professor of oriental languages in the university of Edinburgh), along with a brief, but most elegant and touching memoir of her life. BRYCE, The Rev. Alexander, an eminent geometrician, was born in the year 1713, at Borland in the parish of Kincardine, and received the first rudiments of learning at the school of Downe, Perth- shire. He studied afterwards at the university of Edinburgh, where his proficiency in mathematics and practical astronomy early attracted the notice, and secured for him the patronage, of Professor Maclaurin. At the particular request of that cele- brated man, he went to Caithness, in May, 1740, as tutor to a gentleman's son, but chiefly to construct a map of the northern coast; the number of shipwrecks rendering this, at the time, an object of considerable national importance. During a residence of three years, and in defiance of many threats from the peasantry (which made it necessary for him to go always armed), who did not relish so accurate an examination of their coast, from motives of dis- loyalty, or because they were afraid it would deprive them of two principal sources of income — smuggling and plunder from the shipwrecks — he accomplished, at his own expense, the geometrical survey, and furnished "A Map of the North Coast of Britain, from Raw Stoir of Assynt, to Wick, in Caithness, with the Harbours and Rocks, and an Account of the Tides in the Pentland Firth." This map was afterwards published by the Philosophical, now the Royal, Society of Edinburgh in 1744. Mr. Arrow- smith, it maybe mentioned, pronounced it to be very accurate, after a minute examination, while preparing materials for his large map of Scotland. On his return to Edinburgh, in 1743, Mr. Bryce gave very efficient aid, with his friend the Rev. Air. Wallace of Haddo's Hole church, in verifying the necessary calculations submitted to them by Dr. Webster, previous to the institution, by act of parlia- ment, of the fund for a provision for the widows of the Scottish clergy; the regular increase of which since, and its present flourishing state, form the best encomium of those who laboured forits establishment. In June, 1744, he was licensed to preach by the reverend presbytery of Dunblane; and having re- ceived a presentation by James, Earl of Morton, to the church and parish of Kirknewton, within the presbytery of Edinburgh, he was ordained to serve that cure, in August, 1 745. From his knowledge of the inland geography of Scotland, and line of the roads, he was enabled, this year, to furnish the quartermaster-general of the army of the Duke of Cumberland with important information regarding the march of the forces in subduing the rebellion. In the winter of 1745, and spring of 1746, he taught the mathematical classes in the university of Edin- burgh, at the desire, and during the last illness, of Professor Maclaurin, who died in June following. Mr. Bryce expressed his sorrow for the loss of his friend, inverse, of which the following is a specimen: — "Yon angel guards that wait his soul, Amaz'd at aught from earth so bright, Find nothing new, from pole to pole, To show him in a clearer light. "Joyful he bears glad news 1 on high, And tells them through celestial space See Newton hastens down the sky, To meet him with a warm embrace! 1 A few days before his friend's death, he saw him institute a calculation for ascertaining the proportion that existed between the axis of the earth and the diameter of its equator. It proceeded on data sent him by the Karl of Morton, presi- dent of the Royal Society, consisting of observations made in Peru by the French mathematicians, and communicated at London by Don Antonio, who was taken prisoner at Cape Hreton. The proportion ascertained was very nearly that which Sir Isaac Newton had predicted; being as 221 : 222, and afforded particular gratification. These are the news he is supposed to bear. ALEXANDER BRYCE. 223 "The list'ning choirs around them throng, Their love and wonder fond to show; On golden harps they tune the song Of Nature's laws in worlds below. "O Forbes, Foulks, loved Morton, mourn; Edina, London. Paris, sigh; With tears bedew his costly urn, And pray — Earth light upon him lie." In the year 1750, having occasion to visit Stirling, and knowing that, by an act of the Scottish parlia- ment, this borough had the keeping of the pint jug, the standard, by special statute, for weight and for liquid and dry measure in Scotland, he requested a sight of it from the magistrates. I laving been re- ferred to the council house, a pewter pint jug which had been kept suspended from the roof of the apart- ment, was taken down and given to him. After min- utely examining it, he was convinced that it could not be the standard. The discovery was in vain communicated to the magistrates, who were ill able to appreciate their loss. It excited very different feelings in the mind of an antiquary and a mathema- tician; and resolved, if possible, to recover this valu- able antique, he immediately instituted a search, which, though conducted with much patient industry during part of this and the following year, proved unavailing. In the spring of 1752 it occurred to him that this standard might have been borrowed by some of the braziers or coppersmiths, for the purpose of making legal measures for the citizens; and having learned that a person of this description, called Urquhart, had joined the rebel forces in 1745; that his furniture and shop utensils had been brought to public sale on his not returning; and that various articles which had not been sold were thrown into a garret as useless, he obtained permission to inspect them; and, to his great satisfaction, discovered, under a mass of lumber, the precious object of his long re- search. Thus was recovered the only legal standard of weight and measure in Scotland, after it had been offered, in ignorance, for public sale, and thrown aside unsold as trash, and long after it had been considered by its constitutional guardians as irre- trievably lost. The standard Stirling pint jug is made of brass, in the form of a hollow truncated cone, and weighs 14 pounds, 10 ounces, 1 drop, and 18 grains, Scotch troy. The mean diameter of the mouth is 4"I7 inches. The mean diameter of the bottom 5 "25 inches, and the mean depth 6 inches English. On the front, near the mouth, in alto-relievo, is a shield and lion rampant, the arms of Scotland; and near the bottom another shield, and an ape, passant girdant, with the letter S below, supposed to have been intended as the arms of Stirling. The arms at present are a wolf. The ape must have been put on therefore inadvertently by the maker, or the town must have changed its arms at a period subsequent to the time when the standard was ordered to be male. The handle is fixed with two brass nails; the whole is of rude workmanship, and indicates great antiquity. By an act of the Scottish parliament, Edinburgh had the keeping of the standard ell, Perth the reel, Lanark the pound, Linlithgow the firlot, and Stir- ling the pint ju;, an arrangement made by the legis- lature, in the view of improving the internal com- merce of the country, by checking the frauds which the traffickers of a rude age may be supposed to have often attempted, and because the commodities to which these different standards referred, were known to have been supplied in greater abundance by the districts and town- to whose care they were respectively committed. Hence it maybe inferred that Lanark was then the principal market for wool, Perth for yarn, Edinburgh for cloth, Linlithgow for grain, and Stirling for distilled and fermented liquors. The Stirling jug is mentioned in acts of parliament as being in the town before the reign of James II. in '437; ar >d the last mention made of it is in the reign of James VI., in an "act of parliament, 19 Feb- ruary, 1618, anent settling the measures and weights of Scotland." No accurate experiments appear to have been afterwards made with it for fixing the legal quantity of these measures and weights, till the following by Mr. 15ryce, in 1762-3, a period of about 135 years! Having been permitted, after recovering the stan- dard jug, to carry it with him to Edinburgh, his first object was to ascertain precisely, by means of it, the number of cubic inches, and parts of a cubic inch, in the true Scotch pint. For this purpose the mouth of the jug was made exactly horizontal, by applying to it a spirit level; a minute silver wire of the thickness of a hair, with a plummet attached to each end, was laid across the mouth, and water poured gently in till, with a magnifying glass, it was seen just to touch the wire: the water was then carefully weighed in a balance, the beam of which would turn with a single grain when 96 ounces were in each scale. After seventeen trials with clear spring and river water, several of which were made in presence of the magistrates of Edinburgh, the content of the jug was found to weigh, at a medium of the trials, 54 ounces, 8 drops, 20 grains, or 26,180 grains, English troy. His next object was to determine accurately how many of these grains were contained in a cubic inch of water. With this view, a cylindrical brass vessel was made with great accuracy, by a scale of Bird, the celebrated mathematical instrument-maker of London, to contain 100 cubic inches. This vessel was filled several times with the same water as in the trials with the jug, and its content was found to weigh 25,318 grains, English troy. This number, divided by 100, gives 253 T '/ 7 grains as the weight of a cubic inch of water: therefore, '. — 107 JUL*. 2 5jTT5u ! the exact number of cubic inches, and parts of a cubic inch, in the standard Scotch pint: 5I-,V : ,-".t cubic- inches in the chopin: 25-nnjV cubic inches in the mutchkin; and so on proportionally in the other smaller Scotch measures. Mr. Bryce next applied the standard jug to fix the legal size of the different measures for grain; which he compared with some of the English dry meas- ures. By act of parliament, February 19, 16 iS. formerly mentioned, it is ordained that the wheat and pease firlot shall contain 21 \ pints; and the bear and oat firlot 31 pints of the just Stirling jug. Therefore, since there are 103^''^ cubic inches in the standard Scotch pint, there will be 2 197-.;', -"v.'V cubic inches in the wheat and pease firlot; 549. in the peck; and 1 37 '-iVoVo m tl Je lippie — in the bear. and oat firlot, 3205 -/'nVrr cubic inches; Soif",,*, 1 .- in the peck; and 2CX) i " ; *oV m tne Lppie- The excess of a boll of bear above a boll of wheat was found to be precisely 5 pecks bear measure, and 1 mutchkin. without the difference of a single gill: or, a bull ot bear is more than a boll of wheat by 7 pecks i' lippie, wheat measure, wanting 1 gill. The English corn bushel contain- 217S cubic h wheat firli t .hat r fir! ts of inches, which is less than the by 19 '535 inches, or three gills wheat will make 7 English be The English corn bushel is less 1 bv I peck 3I lippies near!'.'. 'The legal* English bushel, by ordered to make their return- ■ i 1 lip; bariev 1; ;crs are :cntain; 224 ALEXANDER BRYCE. 2i50 - 42 cubic inches, which is less than the wheat firlot by 46 '9 1 5 cubic inches, or I chopin, wanting ^ gill; and less than the bear firlot by 1055 "104 cubic inches, or 2 bear pecks, wanting 7 gills. A Scotch barley boll contains 5 bushels, 3 pecks, 2 lippies, and a little more, according to the Win- chester gallon. A Scotch barley boll, according to the legal measure, contains 6 bushels, wanting a little more than \ lippie. A Scotch chalder (16 bolls of barley) is equal to 11 quarters, 6 bushels, and 3 lippies, Winchester measure. A Scotcli chalder of wheat is equal to 8 quarters, 2 pecks, and I lippie, Winchester measure. A wheat firlot made according to the dimensions mentioned in the Scotch act of parliament, 161S, viz. 19^ inches diameter at top and bottom, and 7J inches in height, Scotch measure, would be less than the true wheat firlot (or 21 \ pints of the standard jug) by a Scotch chopin: a chalder of wheat mea- sured with this firlot would fall short of the true quantity I firlot 2 pecks, or nearly 2\ per cent. A barley firlot made according to the dimensions in the said act, viz. having the same diameter at top and bottom as the wheat firlot, and 1O5 inches in height, Scotch measure, would be less than the true firlot (or 31 pints of the standard jug) by 5 mutch- kins: and a chalder of bear, measured with such a firlot, would fall short of the just quantity 2 firlots, 2 pecks, and nearly 2 lippies, or 4 per cent. These very remarkable mistakes must have pro- ceeded from the ignorance or inaccuracy of the persons authorized by parliament to make the calcu- lations, and to determine the exact dimensions of the hrlot measure. For, suppose a firlot were made of the following dimensions, viz. 20 inches diameter, English measure, at top and bottom, and 7 inches in depth, it would contain 21 \ pints (the true wheat and pease firlot) and only i of a gill more. A firlot of the same diameter as above, at top and bottom, and io^ inches in depth, would contain 31 pints (the true hear and oat firlot) and only 2 gills more: but if, instead of IOj, it be made ioi inches in depth, it will be less than 31 pints (the true standard measure), only \ of a single gill. By the greater of these firlots were to be measured bear, oats, and malt; by the less wheat, rye, beans, pease, and salt. According to the act of parliament in 1618, to which reference has been made, the Scotch pint con- tain.-, of tlie clear running water of Leith three pounds and seven ounces, French troy weight, and this is ordained to be the weight of Scotland; therefore, in the Scotch pound there arc 7616 troy grains; and in the Scotcli ounce 476 troy grains, and so on pro- portionally with regard to the other Scotcli weights. In this way, by the recovery of the standard Stir- ling pint jug, canons of easy application resulted for determining the just quantity of the measures, liquid and dry, and also of the weights in Scotland, and therefore of great public utility, by settling disputes and preventing litigation in that part of the empire. After having obtained the above results by means of the standard jug, Mr. Bryce superintended, at the desire of the magistrates of Edinburgh, the adjust- ment of the weights and measures kept by the Dean of Guild; and "for his good services to the city" was made a burgess and guild brother in January, 1 7 ^4. Several detached articles by Mr. Bryce were published by the Royal Society of London, par- ticularly An Account of a Comet observed by him in 1766; A Xe;o Method of Measuring the Velocity eparate work: to do this, he must have been exclusively or especially a geologist, or a mineralogist, or a zoologist, instead of being all the three combined. Over these departments of science, however, his pen ranged in the form of almost thirty papers, which were published in the Transact, ns of the various societies with which he \va In 1S62 he made a trip to Iceland, and published a short description of his journey, in which he ^ n- clusively settled the important fact, that the tem- perature half-way down the tube of I Oi < ieyser was 270" Fahr., whilst at the very bottom it was not more than 240' Fahr. In 1S04 lie read to the Scottish Society of Arts an a< 1 of detecting the pre-ence ai p>-:i ' ' icebergs at sea, which was reckoned of -o much import that the Hepburn prize wa= awarded to it. In the 15 226 EARL OF BUCHAN ELSPITH BUCHAN. meantime, his fellow-citizens were not insensible to his distinguished merits, and he was in 1861 elected a member of the Town Council for Newington Ward, an office which he was obliged to resign in November, 1865, on account of failing health, but during that interval he took an active part in introducing the telegraphic communications between the various police stations in the city. In 1865 the city council evinced their sense of his scientific acquirements by appointing him one of the curators for the election of professors for the university of Edinburgh, the chairs of which are subject to their appointment. In the spring of the following year, while engaged in experiments to test the applicability of the electric light in the capture offish, for which he had obtained a patent, he contracted a severe cold, which was speedily followed by an attack of jaundice, under which he lingered through the summer and autumn, and gradually became weaker, when bronchitis supervened, under which he gradually sank. He died at Hawkhill, Edinburgh, on the 7th of Decem- ber, 1866. At the next meeting of the Society of Arts, the event was thus announced by the president: — "Before commencing the business of this evening, it is my melancholy duty to refer to the loss which this society, in common with many others in Edin- burgh, has sustained from the death of Mr. Alexander Bryson. Mr. Bryson was elected a fellow of this society in 1836, and he was a valuable and valued member of our body. He was also elected president some years ago. His death has been so sudden and so recent, it is not my intention to refer to or enumerate at any length, or indeed at all, the various improvements and the various acquisitions he has made in scientific pursuits; and among so many of his friends — and I see friends here with some of whom he was very familiar — it is quite unnecessary to refer to his kind heart, his frank and genial manner, and the keenness with which he entered into all the scientific pursuits which he took an interest in. The death of Mr. Alexander Bryson makes a sad blank in this scientific society. I have, therefore, to move that some record of the respect we have for his memory should be registered in our minutes, and that our extract should be sent to his family, in the hope that their affliction may to some extent be lightened by the knowledge that we, as a society, sympathize with them in their great loss." BUCHAN, Eakl ok. See Erskine, David S. BUCHAN, Elspith, the leader of a small sect of fanatics now extinct, was the daughter of John Simpson, who kept an inn between Banff and Port- soy. She was born in 1738, and educated in the Scottish Episcopal communion. Having been sent when a girl to < llasgow, in order to enter into service, she married Robert Uuchan, a workman inthepotterv belonging to her master, with whom she lived for several years, and had several children. Having changed her original profession of faith for that of her husband, who was a Burgher-seceder, her mind seems to have become perplexed with religious fancies, as is too often the case with those who alter their creed. She fell into a habit of interpreting the Scriptures literally, and began to promulgate certain strange doctrines, which she derived in this manner from holy writ. Having now removed to Irvine, she drew over to her own way of thinking, Mr. Hugh Whyte, a Relief clergyman, who consequently ab- dicated his charge, and became her chief apostle. The sect was joined by persons of a rank of life in which no such susceptibility was to be expected. Mr. Hunter, a writer, and several trading people in good circumstances, were among the converts. After having indulged their absurd fancies for several years at Irvine, the mass of the people at length rose in April, 1784, and assembled in a threatening and tumultuous manner around Mr. Whyte's house, which had become the tabernacle of the new re- ligion, and of which they broke all the windows. The Buchanites felt this insult so keenly, that they left the town to the number of forty-six persons, and, proceeding through Mauchline, Cumnock, Sanquhar, and Thornhill, did not halt till they arrived at a farmhouse, two miles south from the latter place, and thirteen from Dumfries, where they hired the outhouses for their habitation, in the hope of being permitted, in that lonely scene, to exercise their religion without further molestation. Mrs. Buchan continued to be the great mistress of the ceremonies, and Mr. Whyte to be the chief officiating priest. They possessed considerable property, which all enjoyed alike, and though several men were accom- panied by their wives, all the responsibilities of the married state were given up. Some of them wrought gratuitously at their trades, for the benefit of those who employed them; but they professed only to consent to this, that they might have opportunities of bringing over others to their own views. They scrupulously abjured all worldly considerations what- soever, wishing only to lead a quiet and holy life, till the commencement of the millennium, or the day of judgment, which they believed to be at hand. "Observing," they said, "how the young ravens are fed, and how the lilies grow, we assure ourselves that God will feed and clothe us." Mrs. Buchan, who was said to have given herself out to be the Virgin Mary, at first denied that she was so. Instead of being the mother of Christ, she said, after the flesh, she was his daughter after the spirit. The little republic existed for some time without anything occurring to mar their happiness, except the occa- sional rudeness of unbelieving neighbours. At length, as hope sickened, worldly feelings appear to have returned upon some of the members; and, notwithstanding all the efforts which Mrs. Buchan could make to keep her flock together, a few re- turned to Irvine. It would seem that as the faith of her followers declined, she greatly increased the ex- travagance of her pretensions, and the rigour of her discipline. It is said that when any person was suspected of an intention to leave the society, she ordered him to be locked up, and ducked every day in cold water, so that it required some little address in any one to get out of her clutches. In the year 17S6 the following facts were reported by some of the seceding members on their return to the west: — "The distribution of provisions she kept in her own hand, and took special care that they should not pamper their bodies with too much food, and every one behoved to be entirely directed by her. The society being once scarce of money, she told them she had a revelation, informing her they should have a supply of cash from heaven: accordingly, she took one of the members out with her, and caused him to hold two corners of a sheet, while she held the other two. Having continued for a considerable time without any shower of money falling upon it, the man at last tired, and left Mrs. Buchan to hold the sheet herself. Mrs. Buchan, in a short time after, came in with five pounds sterling, and upbraided the man for his unbelief, which she said was the only cause that prevented it from coining sooner. Many of the members, however, easily accounted for this pretended miracle, and shrewdly suspected that the money came from her own hoard. That she had a considerable purse was not to be doubted, for she fell on many ways to rob the members of everything WILLIAM BUCHAN. 227 they had of value. Among other things, she in- formed them one evening, that they were all to ascend to heaven next morning; therefore it was only necessary they should lay aside all their vanities and ornaments, ordering them, at the same time, to throw their rings, watches, &c, into the ash-hole, which many were foolish enough to do, while others more prudently hid everything of this kind that belonged to them. Next morning she took out all the people for their promised flight. After they had waited till they were tired, none found themselves any lighter than they were the day before, but remained with as firm a footing on earth as ever. She again blamed their unbelief— said that want of faith alone pre- vented their ascension, and complained of the hard- ship she was under, in being obliged, on account of their unbelief, to continue with them in this world. She at last fell upon an expedient to make them light enough to ascend: nothing less was found requisite than to fast for forty days and forty nights. The experiment was immediately put in practice, and several found themselves at death's door in a very short time. She was then obliged to allow them some spirits and water; but many resolved no longer to submit to such regimen, and went off altogether. We know not," thus concludes the statement, "if the forty days be ended; but a few experiments of this kind will leave her in the end sole proprietor of the society's funds." What adds to the curiosity of this strange tale of fanaticism, is, that Mrs. Buchan's husband was still living in pursuit of his ordinary trade, and a faithful adherent of the Burgher-seceders. One of her child- ren, a boy of twelve or fourteen, lived with the father; two girls of more advanced age were among her own followers. Notwithstanding her increased absurdity, and, we may add, the increased tyranny of her behaviour, she continued to have a few fol- lowers in 1 79 1, when she approached her last scene. Among these was her first apostle, Mr. Whyte. Finding that she was about to go the way of all the earth, she called her disciples together, and exhorted them to continue steadfast and unanimous in their adherence to the doctrine which they had received from her. She told them she had one secret to communicate — a last desperate effort at imposition — that she was in reality the Virgin Mary, and mother of our Lord; that she was the same woman men- tioned in the Revelations as being clothed with the sun, and who was driven into the wilderness; that she had been wandering in the world ever since our Saviour's days, and only for some time past had sojourned in Scotland: that though she might appear to die, they needed not be discouraged, for she would only sleep a little, and in a short time would visit them again, anil conduct them to the New Jerusalem. After her death, which took place, May, 1 791, it was a long time before her votaries would straighten or dress the corpse; nor would they coffin her, until obliged by the smell; and after that they would not bury her. but built up the coffin in a corner of the barn, always expecting that she would rise again from the dead, according to her promise. At la.st the neighbouring country people, shocked with these proceedings, went to a justice of peace, and got an order that she should be buried; so that the famous Mrs. Buchan was at length reduced to a level with all the dead generations of her kind. BUCHAN, WILLIAM, M.D., a popular medical writer of great celebrity, was born in 1 729, at Ancrum in Roxburghshire. His grandfather had been obliged for some time to reside with his family in Holland, on account of the religious troubles which preceded the Revolution. His father pos- sessed a small estate, in addition to which he rented a farm from the Duke of Roxburgh. His genius for medicine was displayed l>efore he could have received any adequate instruction; and even when a school- boy, he was at once the physician and surgeon of the village. Nevertheless, being destined by his friends for the church, he repaired to Edinburgh, to study divinity. At the university he spent the un- usual time of nine years, studying anything rather than theology. At this period of his life mathe- matics and botany were among his favourite pursuits. Finally, he devoted himself wholly to medicine. He enjoyed at this time the friendship of the illustrious Gregory, whose liberal maxims are believed to have had great influence over his future life. Before taking his degree, he was induced, by the invitation of a fellow-student, to settle in practice for some time in Yorkshire. While established in that dis- trict, he became a candidate for the situation of physician to the Foundling Hospital, then supported by parliament at Ackworth, and, after a fair trial of skill with ten professional men, was successful. In this situation he laid the foundation of that know- ledge of the diseases of children which afterwards appeared so conspicuous in his writings. Having returned to Edinburgh to take out his degree, he- became acquainted with a well-connected lady of the name of Peter, whom he soon after married. He continued to be physician to the Ackworth Found- ling Hospital, till parliament, becoming convinced of the bad effects of such an institution, withdrew the annual grant of ,£60,000, upon which it had hitherto been supported. He then removed to Sheffield, where for some time he enjoyed extensive practice. He appears to have spent the years be- tween 1762 and 1766 in this town. He then com- menced practice at Edinburgh, and for several years was very well employed, though it was allowed that he might have enjoyed much more business, if his convivial habits had not distracted so much of his attention. He was not, however, anxious for an extensive practice. Having for a considerable time directed his attention to a digest of popular medical knowledge, he published, in 1769, his work entitled " Domestic Medicine; or, the Family Physician — being an attempt to render the medical art more generally useful, by showing people what is in their own power, both with respect to the prevention and cure of diseases: chiefly calculated to recommend a proper attention to regimen and simple medicines." This work, which had been much indebted, in respect of its composition, to the ingenious William Smellie, was published by Balfour, an eminent bookseller at Edinburgh, at the price of six shillings; and such was its success, that "the first edition," says the author, "of 5000 copies, was entirely sold oft in a corner of Britain, before another could begot ready. The second edition appeared in 1772, "with con- siderable additions." The Domestic Medicine is constructed on a plan similar to that adopted by Tissot in his Avis an Pcuflc. It appealed to the wants and wishes of so large a class of the com- munity, that, considering it to have been the tir>t work of the kind published in Britain, there .- no wonder that it should have attained such success. Before the death of the author, in 1S05, nineteen large editions had been sold, by which the publishers were supposed to realize annually about /. 700, being exactly the sum which they are said to have given at first for the copyright. The learned I >upianil of Paris, physician to the Count d'Artois (Charles X.|, published' an elegant translation in live volumes, witli some excellent notes, which rendered the work 228 DUGALD BUCHANAN. so popular on the Continent, that in a short time no language in Christendom, not even the Russian, wanted its translation. It would almost appear that the work met with more undivided applause on the Continent than in Britain. While many English and Scottish physicians conceived that it was as apt to generate as to cure or prevent diseases, by in- spiring the minds of readers with hypochondriacal notions, those of other countries entertained no such suspicions. Among the testimonies of approbation which Dr. Buchan received from abroad, was a huge gold medallion, sent by the Empress Catherine of Russia, with a complimentary letter. The work is said to have become more popular in America and the West Indies than in the elder hemisphere. The reputation which the author thus acquired induced him to remove to London, where for many years he enjoyed a lucrative practice, though not so great as it might have been made by a more prudent man. It was his custom to resort daily to the Chapter coffee-house, near St. Paul's, where he partly spent his time in conversation with literary and eminent men, and partly in giving advice to patients, who here resorted to him in great numbers, exactly as if it had been his own house. At one time he delivered lectures on natural philosophy, which he illustrated by an excellent apparatus, the property of his deceased friend, James Ferguson. And in this capacity he is said to have manifested as respectable abilities as in his character of a phy- sician. 1 Dr. Buchan was a man of pleasing exterior, most agreeable manners, and great practical benevolence. He cherished no species of antipathy, except one against apothecaries, whom he believed to be a set of rogues, actuated by no principle except a wish to sell their own drugs, at whatever hazard to their patients. His conversation was much courted on account of his lively spirits, and a fund of anecdote which seemed to be perfectly exhaustless. He en- joyed a good constitution, which did not give way till the 25th of February, 1805, when he died in a moment, at his own house, while walking between his sofa and his bed. The disorder was water in the chest, which had been advancing upon him for some time, but was, up to the last moment, so little alarm- ing, that immediately before rising from the sofa he had been talking in his usual manner. The doctor left a son and daughter — the former a man of respect- able gifts, and a fellow of the London Royal College of Physicians. His remains were interred in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey, next to those of the celebrated Jebb. BUCHANAN, DuGALn, a Highland poet of eminent merit, was born in the early part of the eighteenth century, in the parish of Balquhidder, Perthshire. In early youth lie is said to have been of a dissolute character; but little is known of him till he was found keeping a small school in a hamlet of his native country, and in possession of much local fame as a writer of devotional and pious verses. Some respectable persons, struck by his talents, in- terested themselves in his fate, and obtained for him the superior situation of schoolmaster and catechist at Rannoch, on the establishment of the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge. When he first went to reside in that remote district, the people were so rude, from the want of religious instruction, 1 Two other works were published by the doctor: — 1. A Treatise on Gonorrhoea; 2. An Advice to Mothers on the subject of t/ieir own Health, and on the means of Promoting the Health, Strength, and Beauty of their Offspring. Each in one volume, 8vo. that they hardly recognized the sacred nature of the Sabbath. They were in the habit of meeting at different places on that day to amuse themselves with foot-ball and other sports. The parish clergy- man visited them once every three weeks; but, from the extent of the parish, he seems to have been unable to exercise any proper control over them. Buchanan, it is said, invited them all to come and enjoy their Sunday recreations with him, and when they arrived, began to perform divine worship, which he seasoned with a lecture on the sin of Sabbath- breaking. Though many were disgusted at first, all of them became at length convinced of their error, ■and Buchanan in time brought them into a state of high religious culture, the effects of which are said to be visible at this day in Rannoch. The education of this poor scholar was not of the best order; yet he was acquainted with divinity, natural philosophy, and history, and possessed a most felicitous gift of poetry, which he almost exclusively employed for sacred purposes. His writings, which are unknown to English readers, and never can be adequately trans- lated, resemble those of Cowper. An effort was made to obtain for him a license as a preacher of the Scottish church, but without success. He was of much service to the Rev. James Stewart of Killin in translating the New Testament into Gaelic. Having accompanied that gentleman to Edinburgh, in order to aid him in superintending the press, he took the opportunity of improving himself by attendance on the classes for natural philosophy and anatomy in the college. He was at the same time introduced to David Hume, who maintained, in conversation with him, that although the Bible was an excellent book, it was surpassed in beauty and sublimity of language by many profane authors. In support of his assertion, he quoted the lines — ■ "The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind." The devout bard admitted the beauty and sublimity of these lines, but said that he could furnish a passage from the New Testament still more sublime, and recited the following verses: "And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away; and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which was the book of life. And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works" (Re. xx. 1 1-13). Buchanan was very tender-hearted, insomuch that, when he heard a pathetic tale recounted, he could not abstain from weeping. He was equally subject to shed tears when his bosom was excited with joy, gratitude, and admiration. In his conversation he- was modest, mild, and unassuming, and distinguished by great affability — always the best and truest marks of a man of poetical genius. His poems and hymns, which have been repeatedly printed, are allowed to be equal to any in the Gaelic language for style, matter, and harmony of versification. The pieces entitled La ■.- Celti 1, an Account of all the Books :<■/>.• h ha: t ■'■■■••>.• printed in the Gaelic Lan- guage. l!y John Keid. Glasgow, iSj^. a wish to attempt something of the same kind. He could not, like the poet of Auburn, play on the flute, but he was a tolerable performer on the fiddle, and he foolishly imagined that, with its assistance, he might be able to accomplish what he had so much at heart. He accordingly left Edinburgh in the month of August, 1787. He had carefully concealed his dc ign from his parents, lest it should Ix; the occasion of giving them pain, for he seems to have l>een well aware in what light his imprudence would be viewed by others. What road he took, or how long he was on his journey between Edinburgh and Newcastle, is not known. But he arrived there, as it would seem, sufficiently disgusted with his undertaking; for, instead of directing his course to the capital by land, he embarked in a collier at North Shields, and sailed for the metropolis, where he arrived on the 2d of September. Here he was as much, if not more, at a loss, than ever. At last, seeing an advertise- ment in a paper, that a clerk was wanted, after having suffered incredibly from hunger and cold, he applied and obtained this paltry appointment. In- habits of industry, and attention to business, he re- commended himself to his employer, and after various incidents he at last engaged in the service of a soli- citor, with whom he remained for nearly three years. This employment, though exceedingly trifling, was sufficient to supply him with food and clothes. He describes himself, at this period, as having little or no sense of religion upon his mind. He did not at- tend church regularly; and the Sunday was generally spent in idleness, though at no time of his life was he given to habits of dissipation. About this time he got acquainted with the Rev. John Newton of St. Mary's Woolnoth, London, the friend of Cowper, who introduced him to the celebrated Henry Thorn- ton. This latter person, whose heart and fortune were alike bounteous, was the chief occasion of his being afterwards so successful and distinguished in life. As Mr. Buchanan had now formed the resolu- tion of becoming a clergyman, though he could not regularly enter the Church of England, for want of a university education, Mr. Thornton offered him the chaplaincy of the Sierra Leone Company, in which association he bore a leading part. The ap- pointment was accepted by Mr. Buchanan, but, for some unknown reason, was not acted upon. Mr. Thornton, however, generously resolved not to leave his ward destitute or unprovided. He sent him to Queen's College, Cambridge, which was then con- ducted by his friend Dr. Milner, Dean of Carlisle. Mr. Buchanan was admitted into this society in 1791, and in the twenty-fifth year of his age. It has been mentioned that he was two sessions at the university of Glasgow, but it may be doubted whether this was of essential service to him, so different are the regulations, customs, and habits of the two establish- ments. He was disposed to enter as a sizar, that is, a scholar of the lowest rank, the same as at Oxford; but it was arranged that he should be admitted as a pensioner, or a scholar who ] ... - : r his commons. He distinguished himseli .v. >. illege by great assiduity, and though his mind does not appear to have had any particular bent to the - of quantity, he devoted some attenl favour- ite pursuit of the university, the higher 1 ranches of mathematics. Having got a thei ect to write upon in Latin, he succeeded so well as to gain the most marked commendation of his superiors; and he was appointed, to declaim in Latin upon the 5th of November, which is always esteemed by the students as a singul ;ing one of the most solemn festivals of the Year. He was also 230 CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN FRANCIS BUCHANAN. appointed, about the same time, librarian to the college, an office of which the duties were more honourable than severe; and he was the senior wrangler of his year. His education being now complete, he was, in September, 1795, regularly ordained deacon of the Church of England by Bishop Porteous. He was immediately admitted curate to Mr. Newton, which was his first appointment. On the 30th March, 1796, he was appointed chaplain to the East India Company, through the interest of the director, Mr. Charles Grant, who continued to patronize him through life. Dr. Milner and others now recom- mended him a second time to the Bishop of London, from whom he received priest's orders, so that he was qualified to accept of any situation in the English establishment. In the month of May he went to Scotland, in order to take leave of his relations before setting out for India. He immediately re- turned to England, and left Portsmouth for Bengal, nth August, 1796. Landing at Calcutta, he was soon sent into the interior to Barrackpore, where he resided for some time. India was to him a scene perfectly new: at this period hardly any decency was observed in the outward relations of life. There was no divine service at Barrackpore, and horse- racing was practised on Sunday. Of course it was an excellent field for the exertions of a Christian minister. Mr. Buchanan having been appointed third chaplain to the presidency in Calcutta, by Lord Mornington, preached so much to the satisfac- tion of his audience, that he received thanks from the governor-general in council. The plan of a collegiate institution had been for some time under the consideration of his lordship. In 1800 it was formally established by a minute in council, and vested in a provost and vice-provost, with three other officers. There were also to be established professor- ships in the languages spoken in India, in Hindoo and Mahometan laws, in the negotiations and laws enacted at the several presidencies for the civil govern- ment of the British territories — in political economy, commercial institutions and interests of the East India Company, and in various branches of literature and science. Some of the learned natives attached to the college were employed in teaching the students, others in making translations, and others in composing original works in the oriental tongues. This institution, which has been of immense service to British India, was called the College of Fort William. Mr. Buchanan was professor of the Greek, Latin, and English classics. The translation of the original Scriptures from the originals into modern languages had always been with him a favourite scheme. To effect a similar purpose, he proposed prizes to be competed for by the universities, and s >me of the public schools in the United Kingdom. These were afterwards more fully explained in a memoir by him in 1S05. A translation of the Bible into the Chinese language wa> also patronized by him. In the course of the same year he wrote an account of the College of Fort William; and the university of Glasgow conferred upon him the degree of D.D.' In May, 1806, he undertook a journey to t lie coast of Malabar, and returned to Calcutta in 1807. He- paid a second visit to Malabar, and powerfully assist d in procuring a version of the Scriptures into Malayalim. In March, ii '533- In 1536 James \ . made a matrimonial excur- sion to France, where he found the Earl of Cassillis, who had just finished his education. James having, on the 1st of January, 1537, married Magdalene, daughter of Francis I., returned to Scotland in May, bringing witli him Cassillis and George Buchanan. This accounts for the future intimacy between the latter person and the king, which in the end was like to have had a tragical termination. The con- nection between Buchanan and the earl seems, how- ever, not to have been immediately dissolved; for it was while residing at the house of his pupil, that the poet composed Somnium or the Dream, ap- parently an imitation of a poem of Dunbar's, entitled Haw Dunbar was desyred to beane Frier, and a bitter satire upon the impudence and hypocrisy of the Franciscans. This piece of raillery excited such resentment that Buchanan had determined to retire- to Paris, where he hoped to be able to resume his former situation in the college of St. Barlx:. James V., however, took him under his protection, and re- tained him as preceptor to his natural son, James Stuart, not the prior of St. Andrews, but one of the same baptismal name who held the abbacies of Melrose and Kelso. James, who about this time- was not satisfied with the conduct of the clergy, sent for Buchanan, and not aware that he had already rendered himself obnoxious to the Franciscans, commanded him to write a satire against them. Wishing to gratify the king, and yet give as little additional ground of offence to the friars as possible, Buchanan wrote his Palinodia in two parts, a covert satire, which he hoped might afford no ground of open complaint to those against whom it was directed. The king, himself a poet, coarse and licentious, did not at all relish this delicate kind of irony, and it wounded the ecclesiastics still more painfully than its predecessor the Somnium. Find- ing it impossible to propitiate the friars, and the king still insisting upon their vices being fully and fairly exposed, he at last gave full scope to his in- dignation at the impudence, ignorance, impiety, and sensuality that distinguished the whole order, almost without an individual exception, in his poem en- titled Franciscanus, one of the most pungent satires to be found in any language. In this composition Buchanan had little occasion to exercise his fancy, facts were so abundant. He had but to embody in (lowing language what was passing before all men's eyes, for the clergy, besides being robbers of the poor, lived, the far greater part of them, in the open and avowed practice of the most loathsome debauchery. Still they were the most powerful body in the state; and after the death of Magdalene, who had been bred under her aunt, the Queen of Navarre, a Pro- testant, and was friendly to the cause, they gained an entire ascendency over the too facile king, who had not the grace to protect the tutor of his son from the effects of their rage, occasioned by poems that had been written at his own express command. Towards the end of the year 1538, measures were taken for the total suppression of the new opinions, and in February following, five persons were committed to the flames; nine saved their lives by burning their bills, as it was called, or in other words recanting. Among the rest George Buchanan was on this occa- sion seized, and, to secure ample vengeance upon him, Cardinal Beaton offered the king a sum ot money for his life; a piece of supererogatory wicked- ness for which there was not the smallest occasion, as the prejudices of his judges would infallibly have- secured his condemnation, had he been ': 1 before any of their tribunals: but. aware mortal enmity of his accusers, he fled into Fngl By the way he happily escaped a pestilential dis- temper, which was at that time des north of England, and, when he arrived in London, <.\- perienced the protection of an F.ngli-h .. '. S John Rainsford, who both sii necessities, and protected him from tin Papists, to whom he was now every* N . us. On this occasion it was tl iselfto Henry VIII. and to his minister Cromwell, both ot whom treated him with neglect. Several ol his little pieces written at this time attest the straits to which he was reduce 1. Fi glan 1 at that peri . ha I 234 GEORGE BUCHANAN. few attractions for a Scotsman; and it must have been peculiarly galling to the lofty spirit of Buchanan, after stooping to solicit patronage among the natural enemies of his country, to find his efforts despised, and his necessities disregarded. Meeting with so little encouragement there, he passed over to Paris, where he was well known, and had many acquaintances. But here, to his dismay, he found Cardinal Beaton resident as ambassador from the Scottish court. This circumstance rendered it extremely unsafe for him to remain; happily he was invited to Bordeaux by Andrew Govea, a Portuguese, principal of the college of Guienne, lately founded in that city, through whose interest he was appointed professor of humanity in that afterwards highly-famed seminary. Here Buchanan remained for three years, during which he completed four tragedies, besides composing a number of poems on miscellaneous subjects. He was all this while the object of the unwearied enmity of Cardinal Beaton and the Fran- ciscans, who still threatened his life. The cardinal at one time wrote to the Bishop of Bordeaux, commanding him to secure the person of the here- tical poet, which might perhaps have been done; but the letter tailing into the hands of one of the poet's friends, was detained till the appearance of a pestilence in Guienne absorbed every lesser concern. The death of James V. following soon after, with the distractions consequent on that event, gave the cardinal more than enough to do at home without taking cognizance of heretics abroad. Among his pupils at Bordeaux, Buchanan numbered the cele- brated Michael de Montague, who was an actor in every one of his dramas; and among His friends were not only his fellow-professors, but all the men of literature and science in the city and neighbourhood. One of the most illustrious of these was the elder Scaliger, who resided and practised as a physician at Agin; at his house Buchanan and the other professors used to spend part of their vacations. Here they were hospitably entertained, and in their society Scaliger seems not only to have forgot, as he himself acknowledges, the tortures of the gout; but, what was more extraordinary, his natural talent for con- tradiction. The many excellent qualities of this eminent scholar, and the grateful recollection of his conversational talents, Buchanan has preserved in an elegant Latin epigram, apparently written at the lime when he was about to quit this seat of the muses, to enter upon new scenes of difficulty and danger. The younger Scaliger was but a boy when Buchanan visited at his father's house; but he in- herited all his father's admiration of the Scottish poet, whom he declared to be decidedly superior to all the Latin poets of those times. After having resided three years at Bordeaux, and conferred lustre upon its university by the splendour of his talents, Buchanan removed, for reasons which we are not acquainted with, to Paris; and in 1544 we find him one of the regents in the college of Cardinal le Moire, which station he seems to have held till 1 547. There he had for his associates, among other highly respectable names, the celebrated Turnebus and Muretus. By a Latin elegy addressed to his late colleagues, Tastoeus and Tevius, we learn that about this period he had a severe attack of the gout, and that he had been under the medical care of Carol us Stephanus, who was a doctor of physic of the faculty of Paris, and, like several of his relations, was equally distinguished as a scholar and as a printer. In the same elegy Buchanan commemorates the kindness of his colleagues, particularly of Gelida, an amiable and learned Spaniard, less eminent for talents than Buchanan's other colleagues Turnebus and Muretus, but as a man of true moral worth and excellence, at least equal to the former and vastly superior to the latter, who, though a man of splendid talents, was worthless in the extreme. To Muretus, Bu- chanan addressed a copy of verses on a tragedy written by him in his youth, entitled Julius Casar; but Muretus had not as yet put forth those mon- strosities of character, that ought long ago to have buried his name in oblivion. 1 In the year 1547 Buchanan again shifted his place, and, along with his Portuguese friend Andrew Govea, passed into Portugal. Govea, with two brothers, had been sent for his education into France by John III. of Portugal, who, having now founded the university of Coimbra, recalled him to take the principal superintendence of the infant establishment. Aware, at the same time, that his whole kingdom could not furnish a sufficiency of learned men to fill the various chairs, his majesty commissioned Govea to bring a number of learned men with him for that purpose. The persons selected were George Bu- chanan, his elder brother Patrick, Gruchius, Gerun- taeus, Tevius, and Vinetus, all of whom had already distinguished themselves by the publication of learned works. Arnoldus Fabricius, John Costa, and Anthony Mendez — the two latter, natives of Portugal — completed the establishment, and all of them, Patrick Buchanan and Fabricius excepted, had under Govea been teachers in the college of Guienne. France at this period threatened to be the scene of great convulsions, and Buchanan re- garded this retirement to Portugal as an exceedingly fortunate circumstance; and for a short time his expectations were fully realized. Govea, however, died in less than a twelvemonth, and, deprived of his protection, the poor professors soon found them- selves exposed to the jealousy of the natives on account of being foreigners, and to the unrelenting bigotry of the priests because they were scholars. Three of their number were very soon immured in the dungeons of the Inquisition, and, after a tedious confinement, brought before that tribunal, which, unable to convict them of any crime, overwhelmed them with reproaches, and remanded them to their dungeons, without permitting them so much as to know who were their accusers. Buchanan did not escape his share of this persecution. Franciscanus was again revived against him, though the inquisitors knew nothing of that poem; for he had never parted with a copy, save that which he gave to his own king, James V., and he had taken care to have the whole affair properly explained to the Portuguese monarch before he set foot in his dominions. He was also charged with eating flesh in Lent, a practice quite common in Portugal at that time, and with having asserted that Augustine's opinion of the eucharist coincided with the Protestant rather than with the Romish views on the subject; and two witnesses were found to declare that he was an enemy to the Roman faith. More merciful than on many other occasions, the Inquisition, after dealing with Buchanan for upwards of a year and a half, sentenced him to be confined in a monastery for some months, that he might by the inmates be better instructed in the principles and practice of religion. Fortunately, the monks to whose care Buchanan was thus con- signed were not without humanity, though he found them utterly ignorant of religion; and he consoled 1 (if Muretus' s impious bonk, De Tribus Impostorihus, or the three impostors, Moses, Jesus, and Mahomet, a late bio- grapher of Buchanan has said. "It is extremely evident that such a book never existed." We are informed, however, that a copy exists in the MS. collection of the university of Glasi! iw. GEORGE BUCHANAN. 235 himself by planning, and in part executing, his un- rivalled paraphrase of the Psalms of David, which placed him immeasurably above all modern Latin poets, and will transmit his name with honour and admiration to the latest posterity. That this was a task imposed upon him by his ghostly guardians, is an idle tale totally devoid of foundation. The pro- bability is that the poor monks were incapable of appreciating his labours; but he seems to have gained their good-will, for he was restored to his liberty, and soliciting the king's permission to return to France, was requested to remain, and presented with a small sum of money for subsistence till a situation worthy of his talents should be found. After having suffered so much from the Inquisi- tion, Buchanan could not be very ambitious of Por- tuguese preferment, and the promise of the king not being likely to be nastily fulfilled, he embarked in a Greek vessel at Lisbon and sailed for England. To England, however, he certainly had no partiality; and though Edward VI. was now on the throne, and doing all he could to advance the work of re- formation, and though some very advantageous offers were made to induce him to settle in that country, he proceeded direct to France, where he arrived in the beginning of 1553. It was at this time that Buchanan wrote his poem Adventus in Galliam, in which his contempt and resentment of the Portu- guese, and the treatment he had received, together with his affection for the French nation, are strongly expressed. Perhaps it would be too much to say tint the French nation was attached to Buchanan; but many individuals of it certainly were, and im- mediately on his arrival in Paris he was appointed to a regency in the college of Boncourt. In this station he remained till 1555, when he was engaged by the celebrated Comte de Brissac, to act as domestic tutor to his son, Timoleon de Cosse. To this nobleman he had addressed a poetical tribute after the capture of Vercelli, an event which occurred in September, 1553; and to him also he dedicated his tragedy of fephthes in the summer of 1554. The Comte, who seems not to have been insensible to this species of flattery, next year called the poet into Italy, where he himself presided over the French dominions, and charged him with the education of his son. Though much of his time had been spent amidst the tumults of war, the Marshal de Brissac was a man of a liberal mind, who, living in a state of princely magnificence, cultivated an acquaintance with the most eminent scholars. During his cam- paigns lie had often been accompanied by men of learning, and had the discernment to discover in the preceptor of his son powers of mind equal to any station in society. He therefore treated him witli the utmost deference, often placing him at the coun- cil b >ard among his principal officers, and on the most important occasions thought it no discredit to take the benefit of his superior sagacitv. When committed to the tuition of Buchanan, Timoleon de Cosse was only twelve years of age, and he parted with him at the age of seventeen. He was after- wards distinguished for his bravery, for his acquaint- ance with military science; and his literary attain- ments were such as reflected honour on a young nobleman destined for the profession of arms. His short but brilliant career terminated at the siege of Mucidan, where he fell by a musket-ball, aged only twenty-six years. During the five years of his connection with this illustrious family, Buchanan's residence was alternately in France and Italy, and as his pupil was destined to the profession of arms, and had different masters to attend him. he found leisure for prosecuting his poetical studies, and formed the design, and composed part of his philo- sophical poem De Sphcra, which he addressed to his pupil. His future avocations prevented him from completing this poem. He likewise published the first specimen of his version of the Psalms, and his translation of the Alcestes of Euripides, which he inscribed to Margaret, daughter of Francis I., a munificent princess, afterwards married to the Duke of Savoy. His ode on the surrender of Calais was also composed while in Brissac's family. But much of his spare time was employed in a manner still more important — in examining the grounds of his religious belief, and settling to his own satisfaction the great question (that has ever since, more or less, agitated Europe) between the Romish and the re- formed churches. That he had all along inclined to the side of the reformed is indisputable; but he had never relinquished his connection with the ancient church, which he had probably thought still right in the main, though disfigured and disgraced by the figments and the follies of an ignorant and corrupt priesthood. The result of this examination, however, was a perfect conviction that many of the Romish doctrines were erroneous, that the worship was idola- trous, and the discipline utterly depraved and per- verted ; and, consequently, that the necessity of separation from this church was imperative upon all who had any regard to the word of God and the salvation of their own souls: and no sooner did he arrive in Scotland than he acted accordingly. As Buchanan's connection with the Marshal de Bri*sac terminated in 1560, when the civil wars in France had already begun, he probably returned immediately to Scotland, though the exact period has not been ascertained. He had courted, while he resided in France, the notice of Mary, by an epithalamium on her marriage with the dauphin; and in January, 1561-2, we find Randolph, the English ambassador, writing thus from Edinburgh to his employers: "Ther is with the queue [Man.] one called George Bowhanan a Scottishe man very well learned, that was schollemaster unto Mon*r. de Brissack's son, very godlye and honest.'' And in a subsequent letter, dated from St. Andrews, he says, "The quene readeth daylie after her dinner, in- structed by a learned man, Mr. George Bowhanan, somewhat of Livy." Mary had been sent to France in the sixth year of her age, and her education had in some respects been carefully attended to. She spoke Scottish and French, as if both had been her vernacular tongue, which in some degree they might be said to be. With Italian and Spanish she was familiar, and she was so much a master of Latin as to compose and pronounce in that language, be- fore a splendid auditor}-, a declamation against the opinion of those who would debar the sex from the liberal pursuits of science and literature. Thi* oration she afterwards translated into French, but neither the translation nor the original has been published. Mary was at this time in the full bloom of youth and beauty, and to have such a pupil mu-t have been highly gratifying to Buchanan, who, with all the leader* of the Reformation in Scotland, was at first much attached to her. This attachment h occasion to express in a highly fini.-hed c<>] y ot Latin verse*, prefixed to his translation of the Psalm-, which he had just finished, and sent to the ] re*- ■ : his friend Henry Stephens. The exact first full edition of this important work is nut ki no date being on the title: but a second edition was printed in 1566. in which was included the authors tragedy of Jcphthes. ( >n the title-] age of 1 ■). these impressions, Buchanan i* styled / fa rum n trt Suculi facile frinctps, and the paraphrase was re- 236 GEORGE BUCHANAN. commended by copies of Greek verses by the printer, Henry Stephens, one of the first scholars of the age, by Franciscus Portus, and Fredricus Jamotius, and in Latin verses by Henry Stephens and Castlevetro. Mary must have been highly pleased by a compli- ment which carried her fame over all Europe; and, as a reward for his services, bestowed upon her preceptor and poet, in 1564, the temporalities of the abbey of Crossraguell, vacant by the death of Quintin Kennedy, brother to Buchanan's former pupil the Earl of Cassillis. These temporalities were valued at £s°° Scots a year, and the poet seems to have held them till the day of his death. Mary's love of power, and her attachment to Popery, soon, however, alienated the affections of her friends; and, aware that he held her favour by a precarious tenure, Buchanan sedulously cultivated the friendship of the leaders of the Reformation, which was now become the first object of his solicitude. In the same year in which he was promoted to the temporalities of Crossraguell, he prepared for the press a collection of satires, Fralres Fraterrimi, in which the fooleries and impurities of the Popish church were treated with the keenest irony, and assailed with the most vehement invective. He also now put the finishing hand to his Franciscanus, which he published, with a dedication to his friend and patron the Earl of Murray. Through the interest of this nobleman, Buchanan was nominated to be principal of St. Leonard's College, St. Andrews, in 1566. In November this year his name appears as one of the auditors of the faculty questor's accounts in the university of St. Andrews, where he had now fixed his residence. The chamber which he occupied, as principal of St. Leonard's, is now part of a private dwelling-house, and is supposed to have undergone scarcely any transformation. The following inven- tory of its furniture in 1544 has been preserved: — "Twa standard beds, the foreside of aik and the northside and the fuits of fir — Item ane feather bed and ane white plaid of four ells and ane covering woven o'er with images — Item another auld bed of harden filled with straw with ane covering of green — Item ane cod — Item ane inrower of buckram of five breeds part green part red to zaillow — Item ane hunters counter of the middlin kind — Item ane little buird for the studzie — Item ane furm of fir and ane little letterin of aik on the side of the bed with ane image of St. Jerom — Item ane stool of elm with ane other chair of little pine — Item ane chimney weigh- ing . . . — Item ane chandler weighing . . ." In 1566, and the two ensuing years, he was one of the four electors of the rector, and by each of the three officers who were successively chosen was nominated a pro-rector; and in the public register he is denomi- nated by the honourable title which, in publishing his Psalms, Stephanus had bestowed on him. As principal of the college, he delivered occasional pre- lections on theology, as well as at the weekly meet- ings of the clergy and other learned men of the district, held for expounding the Scriptures, then styled the exercise of prophesying, and in the general assembly of the Scottish church he sat as a doctor from the year 1563 to 1567, in which last year he had the honour of being chosen moderator. This same year he published another collection, consist- ing of Elegice Silvic Hendecasyllabi, to which was prefixed an epistle to his friend Peter Daniel, the learned editor of Virgil, with the commentary of Servius, in which he gives several notices respecting his avocations, and especially respecting his poetical works. "Between the occupations of a court, and the annoyance of disease, I have hardly," he remarks, "been able to steal any portion of time which I could devote to my friends or to myself, and T have there- fore been prevented from maintaining a frequent correspondence with them, and from collecting my poems which lie so widely dispersed. For my own part I was not extremely solicitous to recall them from perdition, for the subjects are generally of a trivial nature, and such as at this period of life are at once calculated to inspire me with disgust and shame. But as Pierre Montaure, and some other friends, to whom I neither can nor ought to refuse any request, demanded them with such earnestness, I have employed some of my leisure hours in col- lecting a portion, and placing it in a state of arrange- ment. With this specimen, which consists of one book of elegies, another of miscellanies, and a third of hendecasyllables, I in the meantime present you. When it shall suit your convenience, I beg you will communicate them to Montaure, Des Mesmes, and other philological friends, without whose advice I trust you will not adopt any measure relative to their publication. In a short time I propose sending a book of iambics, another of epigrams, another of odes, and perhaps some other pieces of a similar description, All these I wish to be at the disposal of my friends, as I have finally determined to rely more on their judgment than on my own. In my paraphrase of the Psalms, I have corrected many typographical errors, and have likewise made various alterations. I must therefore request you to advise our friend Stephanus not to publish a new edition without my knowledge. Hitherto I have not found leisure to finish the second book of my poem De Sphera, and therefore I have not made a transcript of the first. As soon as the former are completed, I shall transmit them to you. Salute in my name all our friends at Orleans, and such others as it may be convenient. Farewell. Edinburgh, July the twenty-fourth, 1566." The work, of course, met with his friend's approbation, and was printed in Paris by Robert Stephens in 1567, 121110. We have already noticed that the poem De Sphera was never completed. From the above letter it appears that it was Buchanan's intention to return to it when he should have finished some others that were in a greater state of forwardness, and did not require such a full command of his time as a work of greater magnitude. Circumstances, however, soon put a period to these peaceful and pleasing pursuits. The marriage of Mary and Darnley, the murders of Rizzio and Darnley, the union between the queen and Bothwell, the flight of the latter, Mary's surrender to the confederated lords, her imprisonment in Loch- leven Castle and her escape from it, the defeat of her army at Langside, and her escape into England, are the events best known of any in Scottish history, and it is needless here to enlarge upon them. When Elizabeth thought fit to appoint commissioners, and call witnesses from Scotland for the purpose of sub- stantiating the charges upon which Maiy had been expelled from the throne, the main burden of the proof was devolved upon Buchanan, who had ac- cepted favours from the queen indeed, but did not on that account either decline the task of becoming her accuser, or perform it with the less severity. He accordingly accompanied the Regent Murray into England upon that occasion, having composed in Latin a Detection of Mary's Actions, which was laid before the commissioners at Westminster, and was afterwards most industriously circulated by the English court. To the same pen has also been ascribed the Actio contra Mariam Scotorum Reginam, a coarse and scurrilous invective, which was printed in England along with the Detection, but of which no man capable of reading Buchanan's works will GEORGE BUCHANAN. 237 believe that he ever composed one line. "The Detec- tion" says an eminent historian, "is a concise his- torical deduction of facts, a rapid narrative written with that chaste and classical precision of thought and language by which each sentence acquires an appropriate idea distinct from the preceding, neither anticipated, repeated, nor intermixed with others; and the style is so strictly historical that the work is incorporated in Buchanan's history almost without alteration. But the Action against Mary is a dull declamation and a malignant invective, written in professed imitation of the ancient orators, whom Buchanan has never imitated, without arrangement of parts, coherence, or a regular train of ideas, and without a single passage which Buchanan in his history has deigned to transcribe." The assassina- tion of the Regent Murray soon after his return from England, threw the nation into a still deeper ferment, and Buchanan, strongly suspicious of the selfish policy of the Hamiltons, which he regarded as the principal source of the calamities that now afflicted the nation, addressed " Ane Admonition direct to the true lordis maintainirs of the kingis graces authorite," in which he earnestly adjured them to protect the young king and the children of the late regent from the perils that seemed to impend over them. The same year he composed a satirical delineation of the character of the secretary Lethington, entitled Chameleon, which, through the vigilance of the secretary, was prevented from being published at the time. A copy, however, was preserved among the Cotton MSS., dated 1570, and it was printed at London in 1 7 10, in the Miscellanea Scotica. It has been often reprinted since. These two pieces appear to be all that he ever composed in his vernacular tongue, and they are of such excellence as to make it matter of regret that he did not turn his attention oftener to the cultivation of his native language. As the hopes of the Protestant party were entirely centred in King James, Buchanan was in 1570 selected by the lords of the privy council, and others of the nobility, assembled on occasion of the slaughter of the Regent Murray, to take the superintendence of that important matter, the education of the royal youth. On this occasion he "compeared personally in presence of the said lords of the council, nobility, and others of the estates, and at their desire, and of his own free will and proper motive, demitted and gave over his charge and place of master of the said college (St. Leonard's), in the favours of his well- beloved master, Patrick Adamson, and no other- wise." 1 Buchanan commenced his new duties with ardour; and the very respectable scholarship which his pupil exhibited in after-life shows that so far he executed his task with great success. James had been com- mitted, during his infancy, to the charge of the Earl of Mar— a nobleman of the most unblemished integrity — and he was now in the fourth year of his age. His governor was Sir Alexander Erskine, brother to the Earl of Mar —"a gallant, well-natured gentleman, loved and honoured by all men." The preceptors associated with Buchanan were Mr. Peter Young, and the abbots of Cambuskenneth and Dryburgh, both of them related to the family of Mar. Vounrr 1 This is supposed to have been Mr. Patrick Adamson, afterwards Archbishop of St. Andrews, but it does not appear from the records of the university that he ever entered upon his new functions. If we may credit Dr. Mackenzie, Adamson was at tiiis time, or at least shortly after it. in France, whence he did not return till after the Bartholomew massacre. This nomination, therefore, was pr >bably made in hi> absence; and bet ire he could order his affairs abroad and be ready to enter upon his office, other arrangements might have become ne- cessary. was a man of a mild disposition, respectable both for his talents and learning; and he discharged his office with a prudent attention to his future interests. Re- collecting that his pupil was soon to l>e the sole dis- penser of public favour, he was careful to secure his good graces, and of course was afterwards employed in several political transactions of considerable im- portance, obtained the honour of knighthood, and an annual pension of considerable amount. The two abbots, also, were wise and modest, according to Sir James Melville; but the lady Mar was wise and sharp, and held the king in great awe, and so did Mr. George Buchanan. "But Mr. George," Melville adds, "was a stoic philosopher, who looked not far beforehand; a man of notable endowments for his learning and knowledge of Latin poesy; much hon- oured in other countries; pleasant in conversation, rehearsing at all occasions moralities short and in- structive, whereof he had abundance, inventing when he wanted." The austere spirit of Buchanan was not to be swayed by considerations of self-interest. Called in his old age to the discharge of this ta-k, he seems to have performed it with an entire dis- regard of personal consequences. The result was, as we have said, that he certainly succeeded in beat- ing a respectable degree of scholarship into his royal pupil, but left James's mind untinged with any re- spect or affection for his instructor. On the con- trary, the king long remembered him with a feeling of horror, and used to say of one of his English cour- tiers, in the latter part of his life, that he never could help trembling at his approach, he reminded him so strongly of his pedagogue. Concerning Buchanan's treatment of his royal pupil there are preserved more anecdotes than in reference to any other period of his life; which, if we are to believe them, show that he neither spared castigation nor reproach. The master of Erskine, who was the prince's playmate, had a tame sparrow, the possession of which was coveted by James, and ineffectually entreated from the owner. James had recourse to violence in order to obtain what he desired, and the one boy pulled and the other held till the poor sparrow was killed in the struggle. The loss of his little favourite caused the master of Erskine to shed tears, and make, as is usual in such cases, a lusty outcry. This brought the matter under the notice of Buchanan, who, Mackenzie says, "gave the king a box on the ear. and told him that what he had done was like a true bird of the bloody nest of which he had come." A more pleasing anecdote is thus related by Hr. Irving: — "One of the earliest! propensities which he [James] discovered, was an exce.-sive attachment to favourites; and this weakness, which ought to have been abandoned witli the other characterises of childhood, continued to retain its ascendency during every stage of his life. His facility in complying with every request alarmed the prophetic sagacity of Buchanan. On the authority of the poet's nephew, Chytrrcus has recorded a ludicrous expedient winch he adopted for the purpose of correcting hi-- | conduct. He presented the young king with two papers which he requested him to sign; and James, alter having slightly interrogated him cor.ci their contents, readily appended his signature to each, without the precaution of even a cursory peru-al. One of them was a formal transference ot the regal authority for the term of fifteen days. Having quitted the royal presence, one ol tie courtiers accosted him with h;> u.-ual - astonished nobleman he announced himselt in the new character of a sovereign: and with that happy urbanity of humour for which he was s uiistinguisl he bewail to assume the high demeanour ui rovaltv. 2 3 8 GEORGE BUCHANAN. He afterwards preserved the same deportment to- wards the king himself; and when James expressed his amazement at such extraordinary conduct, Bu- chanan admonished him of his having resigned the crown. This reply did not tend to lessen the mon- arch's surprise, for he now began to suspect his pre- ceptor of mental derangement. Buchanan then produced the instrument by which he was formally invested; and, with the authority of a tutor, proceeded to remind him of the absurdity of assenting to petitions in so rash a manner." When nominated the king's preceptor, Buchanan was also appointed director of the chancery; but this he does not appear to have long held. The same year he was made keeper of the privy-seal, in the room of John, afterwards Lord Maitland, who was deprived for his adherence to the queen. This office, both honourable and lucrative, and which entitled him to a seat in parliament, he held for several years. In April, 1578, he nominally resigned it in favour of his nephew, Thomas, son of Alexander Buchanan of Sleat; but this seems to have been done only to secure the reversion; for in the following June and July he continued to vote in parliament, and, so late as 1580, was addressed by his foreign correspondents as preceptor and counsellor to King James. In the management of public affairs Buchanan seems to have taken a lively interest, and to have been equally consulted as a politician and a scholar. Accordingly, in 1578, we find him forming one of a numerous com- mission, among whom was another poet and scholar, Archbishop Adamson, appointed to examine and digest the existing laws — a most desirable object — but one that from its difficulty was never carried fully into effect. He was also included in two commis- sions for the improvement of education. The first was to rectify an inconvenience arising from the use of different grammars in the schools. Of the com- mittee appointed for this purpose Buchanan was president, and the other members were Messrs. Peter Young, Andrew Sympson, and James Carmichael. They met in Stirling Palace, and were entertained during the continuance of their labours at the charge of the king. Having declared all the grammars in use defective, they resolved that three of their number should compile a new one. To Sympson were assigned the rudiments; to Carmichael what is improperly termed etymology; and to Buchanan the department of prosody. Their respective tracts were committed to the press, and authorized by an order of the king and council; but they continued to be standards of instruction for a very short time, and have long been utterly forgotten. The second com- mission to which we have referred was appointed by the parliament of 1578 to visit the colleges, to reform such things as tended to Popery, to displace unqualified persons, and to establish such persons therein as they should judge fit for the education of youth. The university of St. Andrews was the subject of the first experiment. Having found many things to alter and redress, the commissioners prepared a scheme of reformation, which was ratified by parliament. This document, written in the Scottish tongue by George Buchanan, is still preserved. The plan of improve- ment is skilfully delineated, and evidently pre- supposes that there was no want of learned men in the nation; but it was never carried into effect. With the regents Murray, Lennox, and Mar, Bu- chanan was cordially united; but Morton in the end forfeited his good-will by the plans of self-aggran- dlz^ment which he so sedulously pursued; 1 and it was 1 Sir James Melville assigns a different, and perhaps equally powerful, reason for Buchanan's disagreement with Morton: "He became the Earl of Morton's great enemy, for that a nag principally by his advice and that of Sir Alexander Erskine that Morton was deposed, and the reins of government put into the king's hands, though he was yet only in his twelfth year. He was of course a member of the privy-council appointed for the young monarch, butseems tohave been displaced on Morton's return to power; and we are uncertain if he ever again held any political office. It is probably to this short period of political influence that we are to ascribe the following anecdote of Buchanan, related by Dr. Gilbert Stuart in his Observations concerning the Public Law and the Constitutional History of Scotland: — "In feudal times," that writer observes, "when the sovereign upon his advancement to the royalty was to swear fidelity to his subjects, and to pay homage to the laws, he delivered his naked sword into the hands of the high constable. ' Use this in my defence,' said he, 'while I support the interests of my people; use it to my destruction when I forsake them.' In allusion to this form, Buchanan made a naked sword to be represented on the money coined in the minority of James VI., with these words, Pro me; si mereor, in me." A list of twenty-four Scotsmen has been preserved, whom, on the king's assuming the reins of govern- ment, Elizabeth thought it necessary to attach to her interest by pensions, and among these Buchanan stands at ^"ioo per year — no contemptible sum in those days — and the same that was assigned to some of the first nobles of the land. There is no evidence that he ever received this gratuity, or that it was offered to him. Mackenzie, however, states it as a certainty, and adds that the composition of his De Jure Regni apud Scotos was the grateful service he performed in return — an assertion not likely, considering that the doctrines of this book were not very consonant to the views of that high-minded princess. The De Jure was composed principally with a view to instruct his royal pupil in what belonged to his office. In 1576 he prepared his Baptistes, and dedicated it to the young king, with a freedom of sentiment bordering upon disrespect, which is to be regretted, because, if his lessons had been conveyed in a less dictatorial manner, there would have been more likelihood of their being attended with advantage. "This trifle may seem," he says, "to have a more important reference to you, because it clearly discloses the punishment of tyrants, and the misery which awaits them even when their prosperity is at the highest. Such knowledge I consider it not only expedient but necessary that you should acquire, in order that you may early begin to hate what you ought always to shun: and I wish this work to remain as a witness to posterity that, if impelled by evil counsellors, or suffering the licentiousness of royalty to prevail over a virtuous education, you should here- after be guilty of any improper conduct, the fault may be imputed not to your preceptors, but to you who have not obeyed their salutary admonitions." Three years after, in 1579, he published the above- mentioned compendium of political philosophy, the professed object of which is to delineate the rights of the Scottish crown. The origin of the work, which is sufficiently remote from that assigned by Mackenzie, is fully detailed in the dedication to the king, which is of so peculiar a character, that it would be unpar- donable to pass it over. "Several years ago," he begins, "when our affairs were in a most turbulent of his chanced to be taken from his servant during the civil troubles, and was bought by the regent, who had no will to part with the said horse, because he was sure-footed and easy; but because he would not part with him, from being the regent's great friend, he became his mortal enemy, and from that time forth spoke evil of him at all times and upon all occabions." GEORGE BUCHANAN. 239 condition, I composed a dialogue on the prerogatives of the Scottish crown, in which I endeavoured to explain, from their very cradle, if I may adopt that expression, the reciprocal rights and privileges of kings and their subjects. Although the work seemed to be of some immediate utility by silencing certain individuals, who, with importunate clamours, rather inveighed against the existing state of things than examined what was conformable to the standard of reason, yet in consequence of returning tranquillity, I willingly consecrated my arms to public concord. But having lately met with this disputation among my papers, and supposed it to contain many precepts necessary for your tender age (especially as it is so conspicuously elevated in the scale of human affairs), I have deemed its publication expedient, that it may at once testify my zeal for your service, and admonish you of your duty to the community. Many circum- stances tend to convince me that my present exer- tions will not prove fruitless, especially your age yet uncorrupted by perverse opinions, a disposition above your years spontaneously urging you to every noble pursuit; a facility in obeying not only your precep- tors, but all prudent monitors — a judgment and dex- terity in disquisition which prevents you from paying much regard to authority, unless it be confirmed by solid argument. I likewise perceive that by a kind of natural instinct you so abhor flattery — the nurse of tyranny, and the most grievous pest of a legitimate monarchy — that you as heartily hate the courtly sole- cisms and barbarisms as they are relished and affected by those who consider themselves as the arbiters of every elegance, and who, by way of seasoning their conversation, are perpetually sprinkling it with majesties, lordships, excellencies, and, if possible, with expressions still more putid. Although the bounty of nature and the instruction of your governors may at present secure you against this error, yet am I compelled to entertain some slight degree of suspi- cion, lest evil communication — the alluring nurse of the vices — should lend an unhappy impulse to your still tender mind, especially as I am not ignorant with what facility the external senses yield to seduc- tion. I have therefore sent you this treatise, not only as a monitor, but even as an importunate and sometimes impudent dun, who in this turn of life may convey you beyond the rocks of adulation, and may not merely offer you advice, but confine you to the path which you have entered; and if you should chance to deviate, may reprehend you, and recall your steps. If you obey this monitor, you will insure tranquillity to yourself and to your subjects, and will transmit a brilliant reputation to the most remote posterity." The eagerness with which this work was sought after by those of Buchanan's own principles on the Continent is manifested by a letter from one of his correspondents. "Your dialogue Dc Jure Rejni" says this epistle, "which you transmitted to mebyZokher, the letter-carrier of our friend Sturmius, I have received — a present which would be extremely agreeable to me if the importunate entreaties of some persons did not prevent me from enjoying it; for the moment it was delivered into my hand Dr. Wilson requested the loan of it; he yielded it to the impor- tunity of the chancellor, from whom the treasurer procured a perusal of it, and has not yet returned it ; so that, to this day, it has never been in my custody." Amidst multiplied labours Buchanan was now borne down with the load of years, aggravated by the encroachments of disease. His poetical studies seem now to have been entirely suspended, but his history of Scotland was unfinished, and was pro- bably still receiving short additions or finishing touches. His life, too, at the request of his friends, he compiled when he had reached his seventy-fourth year, and his epistolary correspondence, which was at one time very extensive, was still continued with some of the friends of his earlier days. He had been long in the habit of writing annually, by some of the Bordeaux merchants, to hi> old friend and colleague Vinetus, and one of these letters, written in March, 1581, the year before his death, gives a not unpleas- ing picture of his state of feeling. "Upon receiving accounts of you," he says, "by the merchants who return from your courts, I am filled with delight, and seem to enjoy a kind of second youth, for I am there apprised that some remnants of the Portu- guese peregrinations still exist. As I have now attained to the seventy-fifth year of my age, I some- times call to remembrance through what toils and in- quietudes I have sailed past all those objects which men commonly regard as pleasing, and have at length struck upon that rock beyond which, as the ninetieth psalm very truly avers, nothing remains but labour and sorrow. The only consolation that now awaits me, is to pause with delight on the recollection of my coeval friends, of whom you are almost the only one who still survives. Although you are not, as I presume, inferior to me in years. you are yet capable of benefiting your country by your exertion and counsel, and even of prolonging, by your learned compositions, your life to a future age. But I have long bade adieu to letters. It is now the only object of my solicitude, that I may remove with as little noise as possible from the society of my ill-assorted companions — that I who am already dead, may relinquish the fellowship of the living. In the meantime I transmit to you the youngest of my literary offspring, in order that when you discover it to be the drivelling child of age, you may be less anxious about its brothers. I understand that Henry Wardlaw, a young man of our nation, and the descendant of a good family, is prosecuting his studies in your seminary with no inconsiderable application. Although I am aware of your habitual politeness, and you are not ignorant that foreigners are peculiarly entitled to your atten- tion, yet I am desirous he should find that cur ancient familiarity recommends him to your favour.' Thuanus, who had seen this epistle in the possession of the venerable old man to whom it was addressed, says it was written with a tremulous hand, but in a generous style. The last of Buchanan's productions was his history of Scotland, which it is doubtful whether he lived to see ushered fairly into the world or not. By the following letter to Mr. Randolph, dated at Stirling in the month of August, 1577, it would appear that this work was then in a state of great forwardness: "Maister, I haif resavit diverse letters from you, and yit I haif ansourit to naine of thayme, of the quhylke albiet I haif mony excuds, as age, forgetfulnes>. besines, and desease, yit I wyl use nane as it nv except my sweirness and your gentilness, and geif ye thynk nane of theise sufficient, content you with ane confession of the fait wtout fear of punnit follow on my onkindness. As for the present, I am occupiit in wryting of our historic, being as>urit to content few and to displease mony tharthrow. A> to the end of it, yf ye gett it not or th\> winter be passit, lippen not for it, nor nane other writyngs from me. The rest of my occupation is wyth the gout, quhylk haldis me busy bath day and nyt. And quhair ye say ye haif not Ling to '■>;!. I tnn-t to God to go before you, albeit I be 0:1 tut an 1 ye ryd the post [Randolph was po. he had made 16 SIR ALEXANDER BURNES. a complete survey of the mouths of the river, and constructed a map of the lower part of its course; he also obtained their full permission to continue his journey on the Indus, instead of travelling by land, and their assent that thenceforth it should be left open to the transit of British merchandise. Pro- ceeding along the river by water, and visiting every place of interest upon his way, he at length reached Lahore on the iSth of July. As the real part of his journey was already accomplished, all that remained was little more than a mere political visit of ceremony, graced with all the showy forms of an oriental embassy, and an amusing account of which he has given us in the third volume of his Travels in Bokhara. Splendid retinues, with abundance of trumpeting and cannon-firing, welcomed him into the capital of the modern Timour; and on entering the palace, he suddenly found himself locked in the embrace of a diminutive old man, who was no other than Runjeet Singh himself, eager to do him honour, and who had advanced thus far to welcome him. After sojourning till the middle of August at the court of Runjeet Singh, Burnes left Lahore, crossed the Sutledge, and proceeded to Loodiana, where he became acquainted with Shah Zeman and Shah Soojah, who had formerly been kings of Cabool, but were now discrowned, and living under British protection. At Simla, he met Lord William Bentinck, the governor-general, who forthwith proceeded to avail himself of Burnes' mission, by negotiations for opening the navigation of the Indus. After this successful expedition, Burnes proposed to undertake an exploratory journey into Central Asia, and the Indian government having sanctioned the proposal, he commenced this new and adven- turous journey in January, 1832. As yet, much of the interior of our vast Indian empire was but little known, and even the charts of many districts that had been penetrated by British travellers were still incorrect or defective. One important advantage of this journey of Burnes was an addition to the map of Arrowsmith, the most valuable of our Indian charts, to which he supplied some of its best improvements. As it was necessary to pass through Scinde in his route, he had previously obtained permission to that effect from his powerful friend the maharajah. He therefore once more entered Lahore, at which he arrived on the 17th of January, and was cordially welcomed by Runjeet Singh; and after a stay there till the nth of February, he crossed the Ravee, and having halted one night in a house beside the monu- ment of Jehangur, he prepared for the dangerous part of his journey. It was necessary for this purpose that he should be completely disguised, and there- fore he assumed the dress and habits, and as much as possible the appearance, of an Afghan. He had for the companion of his journey, Mr. James Gerard, surgeon of the Bengal army, who clothed himself with a similar costume; and, after leaving behind them every article of their luggage that might indicate their country or purpose, the travellers commenced their pilgrimage of peril, escorted by a body of troops provided by the maharajah. They were thus accompanied to the frontier of Runjeet's dominions, a short distance on the further side of the Attock, where they met the Afghans, by whom they were escorted to Acora. They afterwards successively reached Peshawur, Jellalabad, and Cabool ; scaled the lofty parses of Oonna and Hageegak, on the latter of which, 12,400 feet in height at its highest point, the frost was so intense that the snow bore the weight of their horses, and the thermometer fell to 4" of Fahrenheit. On attempting subsequently to sur- mount the pass of Katao, which is a thousand feet higher, they found it so blocked up with snow as to be impassable, and were compelled to choose another route, by which they reached Ghoolgoola, that city, or rather valley of ruins, famed for its two colossal statues, the largest of which is 120 feet in height, and for the hills that inclose the valley, which are absolutely honey-combed with excavations. They then crossed the pass of Acrobat; and descending from the mountains of the Indian Caucasus, they entered the vast plains of Tartary. At Khooloom, the frontier town of Morad Beg, chief of Khoondooz, the bold travellers were met by a startling message from that potentate, requiring Burnes to wait upon him at Kaumabad, a village about fifty miles off. Obedience was unavoidable; and therefore, leaving Mr. Gerard at Khooloom, Burnes repaired to Kaumabad, and presented himself before the chief in tattered and threadbare garments, under the character of a poor Armenian watchmaker travelling from Lucknow to Bokhara. A moment's timidity on his part, or suspicion on that of the Asiatic lord, might have cost the traveller his life; but, fortunately, his statement was believed, so that he received a safe-conduct to continue his journey, and he left Kaumabad in the company of a small caravan of nine or ten tea-merchants. This danger being thus happily got over, Burnes rejoined Mr. Gerard at Khooloom. Their route was continued, and they arrived at Balkh, that wondrous city of history and romance, with which our childhood and youth were made so familiar. Now a heap of ruins in the midst of a glory that has passed away, but still covering an extent of twenty miles with its fragments; it is a fitting monument of the many empires to which it has belonged; for here the Greek, Persian, Arabian, Tartar, and Afghan have successively ruled. Strange, therefore, have been the changes it has witnessed since the time that it was the Bactra of Alexander the Great! After halting for three days in this interesting compend of ancient and modern history, Burnes and Gerard entered the desert on the 14th of June, and, two days after, they reached the banks of the Oxus, that most important of Asiatic rivers, which bounded the conquests of Cyrus, and all but terminated those oi Alexander. At that part which our travellers crossed, the river was about 800 yards wide, and twenty feet deep, where the transit was made in boats neither impelled by sail nor oar, but drawn by a couple of stout horses that swam across. Continuing their course, they reached on the 27th of June the city of Bokhara, the capital of the country of that name; a city whose remaining colleges still justify its an- cient renown for learning and civilization, and the high encomiums which eastern poets heaped upon it. After waiting in the neighbourhood of the city of Kara-kool till the 16th of August, Burnes and Gerard resumed their journey in the company of a caravan consistingof 150 persons andieighty camels, the former travelling in very simple fashion, some on horses, some on asses, and several in panniers slung across the backs of camels. With this escort our travellers passed the great desert by Merve, and on the 17th oi September reached the strong fortress of Koochan, where they parted, Gerard intending to proceed to Herat and Candahar, and afterwards return to Cabool. Burnes continued his journey in the com- pany of 300 persons, chiefly Khoords, Persians, and Turcomans — three of the eleven races with which the province of Bokhara is peopled — until he had passed Boojnoord, when he continued his journey alone to the town of Astrabad. He then crossed an arm of the Caspian, and pfoceeded to Teheran, the modern capital of Persia, where he had the honour SIR ALEXANDER BURNES GILBERT BURNET. 243 of being presented to the shah. Such is a brief outline of one of the perilous and laborious journeys in which a chivalrous love of science enables the modern traveller to dare and endure the utmost that knight-errantry has recorded of its ancient votaries. The object of this expedition having been success- fully attained, Burnes was eager to return by the shortest and safest route to head-quarters, and report his proceedings. He therefore embarked at Bushire for Bombay, which he reached on the 18th of January, after a year's absence. The information he had gathered during this adventurous journey, and which he hastened to lay before the government, was so valuable in the statistical and geographical history of these countries with which India is so closely connected, that he received the especial thanks of the governor-general, and was honoured besides with the commission of carrying his own despatches to England. He accordingly set sail for London, where his services were so highly appreci- ated, that he not only met with the most flattering reception at the India House, but was honoured with the especial thanks of his sovereign. Fresh distinctions crowded upon him as soon as the results of his labours were known to the public. The narrative of his journey was immediately translated into French and German; he was elected a member of the Royal Asiatic Society, and of the Royal Geographical Society; and presented with the gold medal, and royal premium of fifty guineas, for The Navigation of the Indus, and a yourney by Balkk and Bokhara across Central Asia. Nor were these ac- knowledgments of his services in behalf of science, literature, and humanity, confined to his own country; for, on paying a short visit to Paris, he was wel- comed with general enthusiasm as one of the most talented and adventurous of modern travellers, and presented with the silver medal of the French Geo- graphical Society. The stay of Burnes at home after so long a residence in India, was only for eighteen months, after which he left England on April 5, 1835, and proceeding by the south of France, Egypt, and the Red Sea, he reached Bombay on the 1st of June, and joined Colonel Pottinger, the British resident at Cutch, as his assistant. Only a few months after, he was sent upon a mission to Hyderabad, to prevent the necessity of a war with Scinde, in which he was successful. While thus occupied in that country, a more important duty was intrusted to him; this was, to negotiate a commercial treaty with Dost Mohammed, sovereign of Afghanistan, and also with the Indian chiefs of the western provinces. He reached Cabool on the 20th of September, 1S37. Here, however, he found that his mission was use- less, from the danger that menaced our Indian empire through the movements and intrigues of Persia and Russia, and the likelihood of their uniting with the Afghans, while Dost Mohammed, instigated by the Russian agent at his court, gave Burnes an order of dismissal. On his return to head-quarters, it was resolved by our Indian government to replace their pensionary. Shah Soojah, upon the throne of Cabool, as a more peaceable or compliant ally than Dost Mohammed; and Barnes was sent to the army to make arrangements in the commissariat depart- ment, preparatory to the invasion of Afghanistan. While thus occupied, he was gratified to learn that his valuable services had not been forgotten at home, fir at Shikarpoor he received a copy of the London Gazette, announcing his promotion to the honour of knighthood and the rank of lieutenant-colonel. Before the commencement of military operations, Sir Alexander Burnes was sent on a political mission from Scinde to Beeloochistan, that failed, upon which he regained the British invading army, that had already advanced, through many difficulties, as far as the fertile valley of Quettah. Here he had hard military service in the shape of a toilsome march, accompanied with danger and privation of every kind, as well as in the storming of Ghuznee, which was only wrested from the Afghans after a close and desperate hand-to-hand fight of three hours. After this important city was won, Hyder Khan, its governor, one of the sons of Dost Mohammed, who had surrendered himself to the British, was placed under the care of Sir Alexander Burnes. Soon after, Dost Mohammed fled from the kingdom, Shah Soojah was replaced in the sovereignty, and such was the appearance of sub- mission on the part of the Afghans, that Sir William M 'Naughten was left as British envoy at the court of Cabool, with Sir Alexander Burnes for his assist- ant. But, unfortunately, this season of calm was soon overcast. The impatient Afghans resumed their insurrectionary spirit, and on several occasions broke forth into revolts that were suppressed with difficulty. Still, however, neither M 'Naughten nor Burnes seem to have anticipated any immediate- danger, notwithstanding the warnings of Major Pottinger, for 14,000 British soldiers were stationed in Afghanistan, independent of the troops of the new shah. But, on the 2d November, 1841, the storm suddenly burst out. At nine o'clock in the morning, the house of Burnes in Cabool was attacked and set on fire by the insurgent multitude, and himself, his brother Lieutenant Charles Burnes, Lieutenant Broadfoot, and every man, woman, and child in the building, were murdered. It was the commencement of a fearful tragedy, of which a disastrous retreat, and the destruction of 26,000 individuals by exhaus- tion and the sabres of the pursuing Afghans were the mournful termination. Sir Alexander was never married, and was survived by his parents and three brothers. Besides his Travels in Bokhara, and several papers in the Journal of the Royal Geographical Society of London, he was author of a work entitled Cabool; bans; a Narrative of a yourney to and Residence in that City, in the years 1 836-7-8, which was published after his death. BURNET, Gilbert, Bishop of Salisbury, and an historian of great eminence, was born at Edin- burgh on the iSth of September, 1643. His father was a younger brother of a family possessing con- siderable interest in the shire of Aberdeen, and was bred to the law, which he followed with great suc- cess. He was eminent for his probity, and his generosity was such that he never took a fee fn mi the poor, nor from any clergyman, when he sue I in the right of his church. In his morals he was strict, and his pi ty procured him the reproach of being a puritan; yet he was episcopal in his judgment, an 1 adhered to the bishops and the rights > I with great constancy, and three several times he left the kingdom to avoid taking the covenant. ( >n one of these occasions lie was an exile for several years. and though his return was latterly o nnived at, lie was not permitted to resume the practice but lived in retirement upon his estate in till the Restoration, when he was : lord of session. The mother of our author v less conspicuous than his father, being a sister 1 : Lord Warriston. and. like him, a great the Presbyterian • In consequ isinc". Mr. Burnet took the education jf his - n in theearlv; art 244 GILBERT BURNET. of it wholly upon himself, and he conducted it so successfully, that at the age of ten years, Gilbert was sufficiently acquainted with the Latin tongue, as to be entered a student in the college of Aberdeen, where he perfected himself in Greek, went through the common methods of the Aristotelian logic and philosophy, and took his degree of M. A. before he was fourteen. After this, much to the regret of his father, who had all along intended him for the church, he commenced the study of the law, both civil and feudal, in which he made very considerable progress. In the course of a year, however, he altered his resolution, and, agreeably to the will of his father, devoted himself wholly to the study of divinity, in which, with indefatigable diligence, studying commonly fourteen hours a day, he made a rapid progress, having gone through the Old and New Testaments, with all the commentaries then in repute, as well as some of the most approved systems of school divinity, before he was eighteen years of age; when, having passed the usual routine of pre- vious exercises, which at that time were nearly the same in the Presbyterian and Episcopalian churches, he was licensed as a probationer or preacher of the gospel. His father was about this time appointed a lord of session, and his cousin-german, Sir Alexander Burnet, gave him the presentation to an excellent benefice, which lay in the very centre of all his re- lations. He refused to accept of it, however, on account of his youth, notwithstanding the impor- tunities of all his friends, his father excepted, who left him entirely to his own discretion. His father dying shortly after this, and one of his brothers, Robert, having become famous at the bar, his mo- ther's relations eagerly desired him to return to his former studies, the law, in which they assured him of the most flattering encouragement; but he was immovably fixed in his purpose of devoting his life to the service of the church. In this resolution he was greatly confirmed by the Rev. Mr. Nairn, who at that time filled the Abbey church of Edinburgh, and took a deep interest in him. Mr. Nairn was reckoned one of the most eloquent of the Scottish preachers, and afterwards became well known in the west of Scotland as one of " Archbishop Leighton's Evangelists." He was remarkable in his discourses for accuracy of style, strength of reasoning, and lofty flights of imagination; yet he always preached ex- tempore, considering the task of writing his dis- courses as a loss of time. Young Burnet was his great admirer, and learned from him to preach extemporaneously, which he did all his life with great ea.se, by allotting a part of every day to medi- tation on all sorts of subjects, speaking all his thoughts aloud, and studying to render his expres- sions fluent and correct. To Mr. Nairn, also, he was indebted for his acquaintance witli various cele- brated works, particularly Dr. More's works, the writings of I'lato, and Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, by the principles of which he professed to be guided through life. In 1662 he became acquainted with Bishop Leighton, who, conceiving a great affection for him, took a particular delight in overlooking his studies. Through this amiable divine, he became acquainted with the primitive writers, going through all the apologies of the fathers of the three first cen- turies, and Binnius' Collections of Councils, down to the second council of Nice. He had the good fortune, about this same time, to contract an in- timacy with Mr. Laurence Charteris, a man of great worth and gravity, who was not only a solid divine, but an eminent master of history, both ancient and modern, well acquainted with geography, and a profound mathematician, and who also took a deep interest in finishing the education of his young friend, which had been so happily begun, and so success- fully carried on. In 1663 Burnet made an excursion into England, taking Cambridge and Oxford in his way. At the first of these, he had the pleasure of being introduced to Drs. Cudworth, Pearson, Burnet (author of the Theory of the Earth), and More. At the latter place he met with great attention, particularly from Drs. Fell and Pocock, on account of his ready knowledge of the fathers and ancient councils. Here he improved his mathematics by the instructions of Dr. Wallis, who gave him a letter of introduction to that great philosopher and Christian, Mr. Robert Boyle, at London. In London he was introduced to all the eminent divines of that period, Tillotson, Stilling- fleet, Patrick Lloyd, Whitchcot, and Wilkins, all of whose characters he lived to draw in his history. Here also he had the advantage of the conversation of Sir Robert Murray, who introduced him into the first circles of society, acting at the same time the part of a faithful monitor, in pointing out to him those errors and indiscretions into which he was in danger of falling from his youth and inexperience. After spending six months in this agreeable man- ner, he returned to his native country, where he was again pressed to enter into orders, and to accept of a charge in the west, which he could not be pre- vailed on to do. Hearing of his great fame, Sir Robert Fletcher of Salton, who had been acquainted with, and had received many obligations from, his father at Paris, sent for him at this time to his country-seat, and after hearing him preach, offered him that parish, the minister having just been nominated to one of the bishoprics. Burnet would have excused himself, as he intended travelling to the Continent, and solicited the place for his friend Nairn; but Sir Robert would take no denial, being resolved to keep the place vacant till his return. In 1664 the subject of this memoir went over to Holland, and after seeing what was most remarkable in the Seven Provinces, fixed his residence at Am- sterdam, where, under the care of a learned rabbi, he perfected himself in the Hebrew language. He also became acquainted here with the leading men of many different sects, among all of whom he de- clared he found so much real piety and virtue, that he became fixed in a strong principle of universal charity, and conceived an invincible abhorrence of all severities on account of differences in the profes- sion or forms of religion. From Holland, by the way of the Netherlands, he passed into France, where, at Paris, he had the pleasure of conversing frequently with Daille and Mortis, the two Protestant ministers of Charenton, the former renowned for his learning and judgment, the latter for shining abilities and unrivalled eloquence. His stay in France was prolonged on account of the kindness with which he was treated by Lord Mollis, then ambassador at the French court. Towards the end of the year, how- ever, he returned to Scotland by the way of London, where, by the president, Sir Robert Murray, he was introduced as a member of the Royal Society. On arriving at Edinburgh, he was waited upon by Sir Robert Fletcher, who carried him down to Salton, and presented him to the parish, which he declined taking absolutely, till he should have the joint request of all the parishioners. This he very soon obtained without one single exception, and was ordained a priest by the Bishop of Edinburgh in the year 1665. At Salton he remained for five years, a bright example of what parish ministers ought to be. lie preached twice every Sabbath, and once through the week. He catechized three times a week, so as to GILBERT BURNET. 245 examine every parishioner, old and young, three times in the compass of the year. He went round his parish, from house to house, instructing, re- proving, or comforting the inmates, as occasion required. The sick he visited often twice a day. The sacrament he dispensed four times a year, and he personally instructed all such as gave notice that they intended to receive it. Of his stipend, 1 all that remained above his own necessary subsistence, he gave away in charity. On one occasion, a parish- ioner who had been in execution for debt, asked him for a little to help his present exigency; he inquired how much it would take to set him up again in his business, and on being told, ordered his servant to go and give him the money. "Sir," said his ser- vant, probably piqued at his. generosity, "it is all the money we have in the house." "It is well," was the reply; "go and pay it to the poor man. You do not know the pleasure there is in making a man glad." We need not wonder that such a man had the affections of his whole parish, even of the Presbyterians, though he was then the only minister in Scotland who made use of the prayers in the liturgy of the Church of England. No worth and no diligence on the part of individuals, however, can atone for or make up the defects of a. wretched system; on the contrary, they often render these defects more apparent, and their consequences more pernicious. Eew parishes in Scotland were filled in the manner that Salton was. Ignorant and profane persons had almost everywhere, through political interest, thrust themselves into the cure of souls, which, of course, they totally neglected, to the great offence of good men like Burnet, who drew up a memorial of the many abuses he observed among his brethren, which was highly resented by his superiors. In consequence of this, lest his conduct might be attributed to ambitious views, he seques- trated himself almost entirely from the public, and by hard study and too abstemious living, threw him- self into a fever, which had nearly proved fatal. He was soon after interrupted in his pious labours, by being called upon, by the new administration that was appointed in 1668, in which his friend Sir Robert Murray had a principal share, to give his advice for remedying the public disorders, which had been occasioned by the overthrow of the Pres- byterian constitution, and, along with it, the civil rights of the people. At his suggestion the ex- pedient of an indulgence to the Presbyterians, under certain limitations, was adopted in the year 1669, by which it was hoped they would by degrees be brought to submit to the new order of things. He was at the same time employed to assist Leighton, now made Archbishop of Glasgow, in bringing for- ward his scheme for an accommodation between the conflicting churches. In the course of his journey- ing-, to the west, he was introduced to Anne, Duchess of Hamilton, a very excellent woman, with a strong bias toward-, the Presbyterians, which enabled her to influence in some degree the leaders of that body, and rendered her somewhat of a public character. At her house the managers of the college of Olasgow had occasion to meet with the minister of Salton, and, the divinity chair being then vacant, he was unanimously elected to fill it. All this was un- known to Burnet till it was over, and he was again thrown into much difficultv, his friends insisting 1 As minister of Salton. Burnet received in stipend from the I lird of Salton, in 1005, £}<)-, 10s. Scots equal to £13. 2s. ■ .:', sterling , together with 11 holis. 2 pecks, 2 lippies, of wheat; II bolls. 2 pecks. 2 lippies, of hear; and 22 bolls, 1 lirlot, j 1 peck, 3 lippies, meal. —A' <•;<•;//, MSS. Adv. Lib. signed 1 " Gilbert Blkneit." upon him to accept the invitation, and his parish- ioners that he should lefuse it. Leighton, however, laid his commands upon him, which he considered as law, and he therefore removed to Glasgow in the year 1669. ( hving to the deplorable state of the church and nation, he encountered much trouble and many in- conveniences in his new situation. His principal care, however, was to improve his pupils, to whom he seems to have devoted almost his whole time and attention. On the Mondays he made each of the students in his turn explain a head of divinity in Latin and propound a thesis from it, which he was to defend against his fellow-students, the professor con- cluding the exercise by deciding the point in a Latin oration. On Tuesdays he prelected in Latin, pur- posing in eight years to embrace a complete system of divinity. On Wednesdays he gave a lecture of an hour upon the Gospel of Matthew. On Thursdays the exercise was alternate: one Thursday he ex- pounded a Hebrew psalm, comparing it with the Septuagint, the Vulgate, and the English version; on the other he explained some portion of the ritual and constitution of the primitive church. On Fridays he made each of his pupils, in course, preach a short sermon upon a text assigned, upon which he gave his own remarks in conclusion. This was the labour of the mornings. In the evenings, after prayers, he every day read them a portion of the Scriptures, on which he made a short discourse, after which he ex- amined into the progress of their several studies, ex- horting, encouraging, and directing them, as he found necessary. In order to keep up all these exercises, he was under the necessity of rising every morning at four o'clock, and it was ten before his preparations were completed for the labours of the day. During his vacations he made frequent visits to Hamilton, where he was engaged by the duchess to examine and put in order the papers of her father and uncle, which led him to compile the Memoirs of t lie Dukes of Hamilton. The Duke of Lauderdale hearing he was employed upon this work, wrote for him to come up to London, promising him such information con- cerning the transactions of these times as he could furnish. He went to London, accordingly, and was received by Lauderdale with much kindness. But the impious manners of this nobleman were not agreeable to him; and he made no use of the confid- ence reposed in him, except to reconcile his grace to the Duke of Hamilton, who had assignations given him on the revenues of the crown, in satisfaction of some old claims for which vouchers had been found by Burnet among the papers intrusted to his care; and in return the Duke of Hamilton engaged to con- cur with the measures of the court in the ensuing parliament. Four of the Scottish bishoprics were at this time vacant, of which Burnet was offered his choice; but he foresaw that they would entangle him in difficul- ties, with little prospect of his being able to effect anything good; so he utterly refused to accept any of them. In 1672 he prevented a breach between Lauderdale and the Duke of Hamilton, for which his country certainly owed him little thanks. About this time he published his vindication of the authority, constitution, and laws of the church and state of Scotland, wherein he strenuously maintained the cause of Episcopacv, and the illegality of resistance merely on account of religion. I hb was l by the Romans as only copies, or borrowed from the Creeks, he determined to have recourse to the JAMES BURNKT. 249 fountainhcad. Burnet was naturally a man of very keen passions, of an independent tone of thinking, and whatever opinion he once espoused, he was neither ashamed nor afraid to avow it openly. He dreaded no consequences, neither did he regard the opinions of others. If he had the authority of Plato or Aristotle, he was quite satisfied, and, how para- doxical soever the sentiment might be, or contrary to what was popular or generally received, he did not in the least regard. Revolutions of various kinds were beginning to be introduced into the schools; but these he either neglected or despised. The Newtonian philosophy in particular had begun to attract attention, and public lecturers upon its lead- ing doctrines had been established in almost all the British universities; but their very novelty was a suffi- cient reason for his neglecting them. The laws by which the material world is regulated were con- sidered by him as of vastly inferior importance to what regarded mind, and its diversified operations. To the contemplation of the latter, therefore, his chief study was directed. Having been early designed for the Scottish bar, he wisely resolved to lay a good foundation, and to suffer nothing to interfere with what was now to be the main business of his life. To obtain eminence in the profession of the law r depends less upon contin- gencies than in any of the other learned professions. Wealth, splendid connections, and circumstances merely casual, have brought forward many physicians and divines, who had nothing else to recommend them. But though these may be excellent subsidi- aries, they are not sufficient of themselves to consti- tute a distinguished lawyer. Besides good natural abilities, the most severe application, and uncommon diligence in the acquisition of extensive legal know- ledge, are absolutely necessary. At every step the neophyte is obliged to make trial of his strengtli with his opponents, and as the public are seldom in a mistake for any length of time, where their in- terests are materially concerned, his station is very soon fixed. The intimate connection that subsists between the civil or Roman law, and the law of Scotland, is well known. The one is founded upon the other. According to the custom of Scotland at that time, Burnet repaired to Holland, where the best masters in this study were then settled. At the university of Groningen he remained for three years, assiduously attending the lectures on the civil law. He then returned to his native country so perfectly accomplished as a civilian, that, during the course of a long life, his opinions on difficult points of this law were highly respected. He happened to arrive in Edinburgh from Holland on the night ol E'orteous mob. His lodgings were in the Lawnmarket, in the vicinity of the Tolbooth, and heniing a great noise in the street, from a motive of curiosity lie sallied forth to witness the scene. Some person, however, had recognized him, and it was currently reported that he was one of the ring- leaders. He was likely to have been put to some trouble on this account, had he not been able to prove that he had just arrived from abroad, and therefore could know- nothing of wdiat was in agita- tion. He was wont to relate with great spirit the circumstances that attended this singular transaction. In 17^7 he became a member of the faculty of Advocate-, and in process o| time came into con- siderable practice. His chief patrons in early life wereEord justice-clerk Milton, I .ord-president Forbes, and Erskine Lord Tinwald or Alva. The last had been a professor in the university ot Ldinburgh, and being an excellent Greek scholar, knew how to esti- mate his talents. During the rebellion of 1745, Burnet went to London, and prudently declining to take any ] art in the politics of that troublous period, he spent the time chiefly in the company and conversation of his literary friends. Among these were Thomson the poet, Lord Littleton, and Dr. Armstrong. When peace was restored, he returned to Scotland. About 1760 he married a beautiful and accomplished lady, Miss Farquharson, a relation of Marischal Keith, by whom he had a son and two daughters. What first brought him into very prominent notice, was the share he had in conducting the celebrated I Jouglas' cause. No question ever came before a court of law which interested the public to a greater degree. In Scotland it became in a manner a national question, for the whole country was divided, and ranged on one side or the other. Mr. Burnet was counsel for Mr. Douglas, and went thrice to France to assist in leading the proof taken there. This he was well qualified to do, for, during his studies in Holland, he had acquired the practice of speaking the French language with great facility. Such interest did this cause excite, that the pleadings before the Court of Session lasted thirty-one days, and the most eminent lawyers were engaged. It is a curious historical fact, that almost all the lawyers on both sides were afterwards raised to the bench. Mr. Burnet was, in 1764, made sheriff of his native county, and on the 1 2th February, 1767, through the interest of the Duke of Queensberry, lord justice-general, he suc- ceeded Lord Milton as a lord of session, under the title of Lord Monboddo. It is said that he refused a justiciary gown, being unwilling that his studies should be interrupted during the vacation by any additional engagements. The first work which hepublished wason TheOrigin and Progress of Language. The first volume appealed in 1771, the second in 1773, and the third in 1776. This treatise attracted a great deal of attention 0:1 account of the singularity of some of the doctrines which it advanced. In the first part, he gives a very learned, elaborate, and abstruse account of the origin of ideas, according to the metaphysics of Plato and the commentators on Aristotle, philosophers to whose writings and theories he was devotedly attached. I ie then treats of the origin of human societ) and of lan- guage, which he considers as a human inventii in, out paying the least regard to the scriptural accounts. I le represents men as having originally been, and who continued for many ages to lie, no better than beasts, and indeed in many respects worse: as destitute ol speech, of reason, of conscience, of social affection. and of everything that can confer dignity upon a creature, and possessed of nothing but external sense and memory, and a capacity of improvement, d he- system is not a new one, being borrowed from Lucre- tius, of wdiose account of it Horace gives an exai : abridgment in these lines: — Cum prorepserunt ; rimis anitnalia terris. mutum et turpe pecus," iNcc, ' Lord Monboddo takes for his motto, an said, comprehended in miniature the while hist of man. In regard to facts that make :' r ':. - -y. he is amazingly credulous, but blind and h'c; : > regard to everything of an opposite tendency. lie asserts with, the utmost gravity and . ' ' . the orang-outangs are of the human s] — the Bay of Pengal there exists a 1 creatures with tails, disc vered 1 30 y< :- a Swedish skipper— that the 1 - a-cats are social and political animals, th neither social nor political, nor evi : . \ - reflection, a sense of right and even t! ight. 1 ,. ' 1 >: ecies. r.s i much the eft ! ". . and long expi ri- JAMES BURNET. ence, as writing, ship-building, or any other manu- facture. Notwithstanding that the work contains these and many other strange and whimsical opinions, yet it discovers great acuteness of remark. His greatest work, which he called Ancient Meta- physics, consists of three volumes 4to, the last of which was published only a few weeks before the author's death. It may be considered as an exposi- tion and defence of the Grecian philosophy, in oppo- sition to the philosophical system of Sir Isaac Newton, and the scepticism of modern metaphysicians, par- ticularly Mr. David Hume. His opinions upon many points coincide with those of Mr. Harris, the author of Hermes, who was his intimate friend, and of whom he was a great admirer. He never seems to have understood, nor to have entered into, the spirit of the Newtonian philosophy; and, as to Mr. Hume, he, without any disguise, accuses him of atheism, and reprobates in the most severe terms some of his opinions. In domestic circumstances Monboddo was particu- larly unfortunate. His wife, a very beautiful woman, died in child-bed. His son, a promising boy, in whose education he took great delight, was likewise snatched from his affections by a premature death; and his second daughter, in personal loveliness one of the first women of the age, was cut off by con- sumption when only twenty-five years old. Burns, in an address to Edinburgh, thus celebrates the beauty and excellence of Miss Burnet: — "Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn, Gay as the gilded summer sky, Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn, Dear as the raptured thrill of joy! " Fair Burnet strikes the adoring eye. Heaven's beauties on my fancy shine; I see the Sire of love on high, And own his work indeed divine." His eldest daughter was married to Kirkpatrick Williamson, Esq., keeper of the outer house rolls, who had been clerk to his lordship, and was eminent as a Greek scholar. About 17S0, he first began to make an annual journey to London, which he continued for a good many years, indeed, till lie was upwards of eighty years of age. As a coach was not a vehicle in use among the ancients, he determined never to enter and be seated in what he termed a box. He esteemed it as degrading to the dignity of human nature to ba dragged at the tails of horses instead of being mounted on their backs. In his journeys between Edinburgh and London he therefore rode on horse- back, attended by a single servant. On his last visit, he was taken ill on the road, and it was with difficulty that Sir Hector Monroe prevailed upon him to come into his carriage. He set out, however, next day on horseback, and arrived safe in Edinburgh by slow journeys. Lord Monboddo, being in London in 17S5, visited the King's bench, when some part of the fixtures of the place giving way, a great scatter took place among the lawyers, and the very judges themselves rushed towards the door. Monboddo, somewhat near-sighted, and rather dull of hearing, sat still, and was the only man who did so. being asked why he had not bestirred himself to avoid the ruin, he coolly answered, that he "thought it was an annual ceremony, witli which, being an alien, he had no- thing to do." When in the country he generally dressed in the style of a plain fanner; and lived among his tenants with the utmost familiarity, and treated them with great kindness. He used much the exercises of walking in the open air and of riding. He had accustomed himself to the use of the cold bath in all seasons, and amid every severity of the weather. It is said that he even made use of the air-bath, or occasionally walking about for some minutes naked in a room filled with fresh and cool air. In imita- tion of the ancients, the practice of anointing was not forgotten. The lotion he used was not the oil of the ancients, but a saponaceous liquid compound of rose-water, olive-oil, saline aromatic spirit, and Venice soap, which, when well mixed, resembles cream. This he applied at bedtime, before a large fire, after coming from the warm bath. This learned and ingenious, though somewhat ec- centric, man died upon the 26th May, 1799, at the advanced age of eighty-five years. BURNET, James, landscape painter. Among the lives of eminent men it often happens that some individual obtains a place, more on account of the excellence he indicated than that which he realized; and whom a premature death extinguishes, just when a well-spent youth of high promise has commenced those labours by which the hopes he excited would in all likelihood be fulfilled. Such examples we do not willingly let die, and this must form our chief apology for the introduction of a short memoir of James Burnet. He was of a family that came originally from Aberdeen, and was born at Mussel- burgh, in the year 1788. His father, George Burnet, of whom he was the fourth son, held the important office of general surveyor of excise in Scotland; his mother, Anne Cruikshank, was sister to the distin- guished anatomist whose name is so honourably associated with the professional studies of John Hunter. James Burnet soon evinced his natural bias towards art, not only by juvenile attempts in draw- ing, but his frequent visits to the studio of Scott, the landscape engraver, with whom his brother John, afterwards so eminent as an engraver, was a pupil. On account of these indications, James was placed under the care of Liddel, to learn the mystery of wood-carving, at that time in high request, and pro- ductive of great profit to those who excelled in it; and as skill in drawing was necessary for acquiring proficiency in this kind of delineation, he was also sent to the Trustees' Academy, where he studied under Graham, the early preceptor of the most dis- tinguished of our modern Scottish artists. It was not wonderful that, thus circumstanced, James Burnet's taste for carving in wood was soon super- seded by the higher departments of art. He quickly perceived the superiority of a well-finished delinea- tion upon canvas or paper over the stiff cherubs, scrolls, and wreaths that were laboriously chiselled upon side-boards and bed-posts, and chose his voca- tion accordingly: he would be an artist. With this view, he transmitted to his brother John, who was now employed as an engraver in London, several speci- mens of his drawings, expressing also his earnest desire to commence life as a painter in the great metropolis; and without waiting for an answer, he followed his application in person, and arrived in London in 1S10. A letter of acquiescence from Irs brother, which his hurry had anticipated, was already on the way to Edinburgh, and therefore his arrival in London, although so sudden and unexpected, was not unwelcome. It required no long stay in the British capital to convince the young aspirant that he had much yet to Uarn before he could become an artist. But he also found that London could offer such lessons as Edin- burgh had been unable to furnish. This conviction first struck him on seeing Wilkie's "Blind Fiddler," of which his brother John was executing the well-known JAMES BURNET ALLAN BURNS. and justly-admired engraving. James was arrested and riveted by the painting, so unlike all he had hitherto admired and copied: it was, he perceived, in some such spirit as this that he must select from nature, and imitate it, if he would succeed in his daring enterprise. This conviction was further con- firmed by studying the productions of the eminent 1 hitch masters in the British gallery, where he found that originality of conception was not only intimately blended with the truthfulness of nature, but made subservient to its authority. He must therefore study nature herself where she was best to be found — among the fields, and beneath the clear skies, where the beauty of form and the richness of colour presented their infinite variety to the artist's choice, and taught him the best modes of arranging them upon the canvas. Forth he accordingly went, with nothing but his note-book and pencil; and among the fields, in the neighbourhood of London, he marked with an observant eye the various objects that most struck his fancy, and made short sketches of these, to be afterwards amplified into paintings. It was remarked, also, in this collection of hasty pencillings, that instead of seeking to aggrandize the works of nature, he faithfully copied them as he found them. "He has introduced," says a judicious critic, speaking of one of his paintings, "everything that could in any way characterize the scene. The rainbow in the sky, the glittering of the rain upon the leaves; the dripping poultry under the hedge, the reflections of the cattle on the road, and the girl with the gown over her shoulders, all tend with equal force to illustrate his subject." Not content, also, with the mere work of sketching in the fields, he was accustomed to note down in his book such observations in connection with the sketch as might be available for the future picture, or those remarks in reference to light and shade that were applicable to painting in general. The result of this training was soon perceptible in the increasing excellence of his successive productions, of which Allan Cunning- ham, his biographer, well remarks: — "His trees are finely grouped; his cows are all beautiful; they have the sense to know where the sweetest grass grows; his milk-maids have an air of natural elegance about them, and his cow-boys are not without grace." Of the paintings of James Burnet, some of which are in the possession of his relatives, and others among the costly picture galleries of our nobility, the following is a list: — I. Cattle going out in the Morning. 2. Cattle returning Home in a Shower. 3. Key of the Byre. 4. Crossing the Brook. 5. Cow-boys and Cattle. 6. Breaking the Ice. 7. Milking. 8. Crossing the Bridge. 9. Inside of a Cow-house. 10. Going to Market. II. Cattle by a Pool in Summer. 12. Boy with Cows. While Burnet was thus pursuing a course of self- education that drew him onward step by step in im- provement, and promised to conduct him to a very high rank among pastoral and landscape painters, a malady had latterly attended him in his wanderings, that too often selects the young and the sensitive for its victims. This was consumption, a disease which his lonely habits and sedentary employment in the open air were only too apt to aggravate; and, although a change of scene and atmosphere was tried by his removal to Lee in Kent, it was soon evident that his days were numbered. Even then, however, when scarcely able to walk, he was to be found lingering among the beautiful scenery of Lee and Lewisham, with his pencil and note-book in hand, and to the last he talked with his friends about painting, and the landscapes that he still Imped to delineate. He died on the 27th July, 1S16. His dying wish was to t>e buried in the village church of Lee, in whose picturesque churchyard he had so often wandered and mused during the last days of his illness; but as sepulture in that privileged place could not be granted to a stranger, his remains were interred in the churchyard of Lewisham. At his death he had only reached his twenty-eighth year. BURNS, ALLAN. This talented anatomist and surgical writer, in whom a life of high promise was too soon arrested, was the son ol the Rev. Dr. Burns, minister of the Barony Church, Glasgow; a venerable clergyman, who, after bearing for several years the title of "father of the Church of Scotland," on account of his seniority, died in 1839, at the very advanced age of ninety-six. Allan Burns was born at Glasgow on the 18th September, 1781. When not more than fourteen years old, he entered the medical classes, where his diligence and proficiency were so remarkable, that only two years afterward-., he was able to undertake the entire direction of the dissecting-rooms of Mr. John Burns, his brother, who at that time was a lecturer on anatomy and surgery in the city of Glasgow. In this situation, his opportunities of extending and perfecting his knowledge were so carefully employed, that he attained, even though still a youth, a high reputation among the practical anatomists of his day. His views being directed to medical practice in the army, lie went to London, in 1804, for the purpose of ob- taining a commission; but before his application was made to that effect, he received an offer that altered his intention. It was to repair to St. Petersburg, and undertake the charge of an hospital which the empress Catherine was desirous of establishing in her capital, upon the English plan. Allan Burns had been recommended to her majesty by Dr. Creighton, as one everyway qualified for this im- portant charge; and when the offer was made, it was with the understanding that he might make a six months' trial before finally closing with it. Tempted by so alluring a prospect, Burns left London for St. Petersburg, and commenced the duties of his new career. But Russia was not at that time the country which it has now become, and the sensitive mind of the young Scot was soon sickened by the Asiatic pomp and ocythian barbarism with which he was surrounded. On this account, he abandoned the tempting prospects of court favour and professional advancement that were held out to him, and returned to Scotland lx:fore the six months of probation had ended. At his departure, he was presented by the empress with a valuable diamond ring, as a token of the royal approbation and esteem. On returning to his native country, which was at the commencement of 1^05, Burns resolved to occupy the place of his brother, who had d tinued his lectures on surgery and anatomy. This he did in the winter of the following year, quickly won the admiration of his piq ;i-. correctness and extent of his professional knou . and great power of illustration. Indeed, : - .: lecturer, the most abstruse subjects in his 1 became plain ami palpable, ami the driot - full of interest. Still, however, r. I reputation as a lecturer, hi-- fame woul . limited and evanescent, had it not 1 tor :.-.- he published, by which the high admira: who knew him was participated in by ti large. The first of these publi iti ns, wh; h ap- peared in 1809, was entitled (' '~ ■"• of the most Frequent and Imrertar.t J >. Heart: or Aneur " r Pre- ternatural Pulsation in the Pr.\ •' trie A 'uu; a: J JOHN BURNS. o n the Unusual Origin and Distribution of some of the Large Arteries of the Human Body; illustrated by cases. The second, which was published in 1812, was entitled Observations on the Surgical Anatomy of the Head and Neck; illustrated by cases. This was the whole amount of his authorship, with the exception of two essays, which he contributed to the Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal; one on the anatomy of the parts concerned in the operation for crural hernia; the other on the operation of lithotomy. The career of professional distinction which these works had so favourably opened up to him, was closed before it could be further pursued. So early as 1810 his health had begun to give way, and though he continued to lecture for two years afterwards, it was with great difficulty and pain. His death occurred on the 22d of June, 1813. BURNS, JOHN, M.D., a distinguished medical writer, and elder brother of Allan, the subject of the preceding notice, was born in Glasgow, in 1774. He was descended from a family of the name of Burn; his grandfather, John Burn, was a teacher of English in Glasgow, and the author of an English grammar bearing his name, a work highly popular as a school- book in the west of Scotland about a century ago. His father was the Rev. John Burns, D.D., who, as has been already mentioned, was minister for up- wards of sixty-nine years of the Barony parish of Glasgow, and who died in 1S39. John, who was the eldest surviving son of Dr. Burns, was born in 1775. I le began his professional studies in Glasgow, and continued them in Edinburgh. He had just completed his studies when the Glasgow Royal infirmary, in which he was the first surgeon's clerk, was opened for the reception of patients in 1792. His favourite department of medical science was surgical anatomy, in which he made remarkable progress. He soon began to give instructions to others, and was the first private teacher of anatomy in Glasgow. His lecture-room was originally at the hea 1 of Virginia Street, at the north-west corner, behind the present Union Bank. At that period, and for thirty years afterwards, subjects for dissec- tion could only be obtained by violating the repose of the dead; a practice most demoralizing to those immediately engaged in it, and not unfrequently pro- ductive of unpleasant consequences to lecturers and students. An affair of this nature having transpired in connection with the lecture-room of Mr. Burns, proceedings were instituted against him by the authorities, but were quashed on his coming under a promise to discontinue his lectures on anatomy. His younger brother Allan, however, took up the anatomical lectures, and John began to lecture on midwifery. The lecture-room of the brothers was removed to a tenement built on the site of the old bridewell, on the north side of College Street. They were both successful as lecturers. Allan's style was monotonous and impleading, but his demonstrations were admirable. John's manner was the more agreeable, his knowledge was exact, his views were practical, and his lectures were interspersed with anecdotes and strokes of humour which rendered them highly attractive to the students. Dr. Burns now began to exhibit the fruits of his studies in a series of important contributions to the literature of his profession. His first publication of note was the Anatomy of the Gravid Uterus, which appeared in 1799. This was followed, in 1S00, by two volumes on Inflammation, in which he was the first to describe a species of cancer which is now known by the name of fungus hoematodes. These two work-, stamped their author as an observing, original, and practical inquirer. They were followed by Observa- tions on Abortion, in 1806; Observations on Uterine Haemorrhage, in 1807; and by the most popular of all his medical writings, The Principles of Midwifery, in 1809, a book which has been translated into various languages, and has passed through numerous editions. In 1828-38 appeared the Principles of Surgery, in two volumes, a work which cost Dr. Burns much pains, but did not meet with corre- sponding success. He likewise published a popular work on the Treatment of Women and Children. Dr. Burns married, in 1801, the daughter of the Rev. John Duncan, minister of the parish of Alva, in Stirlingshire. He continued to lecture on mid- wifery till 1S15, when the crown instituted a regius professorship of surgery, in the university of Glasgow, to which chair he was appointed, and discharged its duties till the close of his life. In 1810 his wife died, and he remained a widower during the forty years that he survived her. By her he had four children: the youngest, Allan, named after his uncle, was born in January, 1810. At an early period in his professional career, Dr. Burns became surgeon to the Royal Infirmary, and distinguished himself by the nerve with which he operated. He subsequently became the partner of Mr. Muir, and, after that gentleman's death, of Mr. Alexander Dunlop, a connection which brought him into excellent family practice. His son, Allan, followed the medical profession, and having com- pleted his studies, after a residence of three years on the Continent, he commenced practice in 1832. With an intimate knowledge of medical science, and a strong love of anatomical pursuits, he was rising fast into eminence, when intermittent fever, caught in the prosecution of his duties, carried him off after a short illness, in November, 1843, in the thirty- fourth year of his age. It was not till his son entered upon public practice that the subject of this memoir took out his degree, which he had previously refused to do. He was shortly afterwards elected physician to the Royal Infirmary. He had subsequently con- siderable practice as a consulting physician. Dr. Burns had, however, been gradually retiring from the labours of his profession, when the severe afflic- tion caused by his son's death befell him. He then gave up everything but his professorial duties, de- voting much of his time to carrying out the views o( the principal and professors of the college as re- spected the medical school — and, in token of their gratitude, he was requested by the senatus to sit for his portrait, which, having been painted by Mr. John Graham Gilbert, was placed in the Ilunterian Museum of the college. Early in life, and while yet a student in the uni- versity of Edinburgh, his mind was imbued with those religious principles which regulated his whole- career, and sustained him amidst many afflictive bereavements. To the religious world he became favourably known by a work entitled The Principles of Christian Philosophy, which has gone through several editions, and promises to hold a permanent place in religious literature. Dr. Burns also published another religious book, entitled Christian Fragments. Although brought up in the Church of Scotland, of which he was an elder, he became a member of the Episcopalian church, and died in its communion. 11 is end was sudden and melancholy. He perished in the wreck of the Orion steamboat, on her passage from Liver- pool to Glasgow, on the iSth of June, 1S50. Having finished his course and kept the faith, he was re- moved from the world in the attitude and exercise of prayer. 1 1 chad reached the mature age of seventy -five. ROBERT BURNS. 253 Dr. John Burns was F.R.9., and a member of the Institute of France, and of several other scientific institutions in various countries. In politics he was a stanch Conservative. lie was of a cheerful dis- position, was a great favourite with his patients, and towards his professional brethren he behaved on all occasions in the most honourable manner. In person he was under the middle height, with gray flowing locks, and his dress was scrupulously neat and antique. Few individuals in Glasgow were un- acquainted with his exterior, and thousands who knew little of his professional attainments were yet familiar with his appearance as a venerable medical gentle- man of the old school. His eldest and only surviv- ing son, Lieutenant-colonel Burns, of the second queen's regiment, died at the Cape of Good Hope towards the close of 1853. BURNS, Rohert. This illustrious bard, the poet of Scotland, and not only of Scotland, but of nature at large, was the son of William Burnes, of whose origin all that is known is, that his father had been a farmer in the Mearns, on the domains of the earl marischal, and that he left his native district at tin; age of nineteen. William Burnes (for thus he spelled his name) first repaired to the neighbour- hood of Edinburgh, where he wrought as a gardener for several years; afterwards migrated to Ayrshire, where he became overseer on a small estate, and rented a few acres of land; and finally, in 1 75 7, married Agnes Brown, an Ayrshire girl, of the same humble rank as his own. It has been suspected that William's father as well as himself had been of the same Jacobite sentiments as their landlord, and had even been involved in the rebellions of 1 7 1 5 and 1745, on which account William had found it ne- cessary to leave his home and commence life anew among strangers. If this was the case, we can un- derstand the sympathy of the poet for the Stuart cause when Jacobitism had become useless, and was even branded as ridiculous. But William Burnes possessed a character of his own which would have procured him respect whatever were his political leanings. His superior education was attested by his command of the English language, which he spoke more fluently and correctly than most people of his own degree. His integrity and manly in- dependence were equally felt by his employers and those who worked under him. And in the family circle, where he was best understood, every member of it was enlightened by his conversation, directed by his judgment, and awed by his reproof. It is enough to add, that in the religious duties of the household he unconsciously sat for the picture of the father in the "Cottar's Saturday Night." Of this upright noble-minded peasant Robert Burns was the son. In worldly circumstances the birth of the poet was unpromising, for it was in a little cottage of the humblest description in the parish of A'.loway, a mile and a half from the town of Ayr. and in the immediate neighbourhood of the bridge"!" Doon a clay-built cottage, which William Burnes ha 1 erected with his own hands. Hut this edifice is now the chief mark of manv a pilgrimage to Scotland from lands however remote. Here the future bard, who was to fill the world with his fame, was burn on the 25th of January, 1750. In his sixth year Robert was sent to school at Alloway Milne, about a mile di>tant; but the teacher having got a better situation a few months afterwards, another was engaged in his stead by \\ illiam Burnes and a few other cottagers, who paid the cost of teaching by boarding the preceptor in their houses by turns. By this plan, which was common in many of the rural districts of Scotland even until the close of the last century, several students sup- ported themselves as teachers during their training for the clerical profession, while education of a superior kind was insured to the most secluded localities and children of the humblest ranks. 1 1 ere Robert and his younger brother Gilbert remained so long as to learn to read English tolerably and to write a little; and here also Robert learned the rules and application of English grammar, which had after- wards an improving influence both upon his writings anil conversation. As books in such a locality were not very numerous, while the mind of the young poet was ravenous for its intellectual sustenance, he devoured everything in print that fell in his way, and still hungered for more. It was well, perhaps, that he was not distracted by that immense variety and abundance of books which, in our own day, makes the task of reading such a careless and superficial process: on the contrary, every page was heedfully conned over until the whole volume was absorbed into his intellectual existence, and became a portion of his growth and strength. In this process of self-improvement, the first work he read was the Life of Hannibal, next to Hector of Troy the dar- ling hero of young schoolboys. When he was a few years older, the Life of Sir William Wallace, in verse, by Henry the Minstrel, but modernized by Hamilton of Gilbertfield, came in his way, whose exploits were still more wonderful than those of the gallant Carthagenian, as well as more dear to his enthusiastic Scottish heart. Among the list of books perused in his youth, and which he either bought, borrowed, or obtained from book societies, were Salmon 's Geographical Grammar, Derham's Physico- and Astro- Theology, Ray's JVisdem of God in the Creation, and Stack/louse's History of the Bible. Some of these works were sufficient, by their bulk and erudition, to daunt a peasant boy; but to Robert Burns they had no such terrors: " No bock!" declares his brother, "was so voluminous as to slacken his industry, or so antiquated as to damp his researches." His zeal for self-improvement was also attested by the following incident: — An uncle of his having gone to purchase in Ayr The Ready Reckoner, 1 r Tradesman's Sure Guide, bought by mistake The Complete Letter-writer in its stead. This was a fortunate blunder for his nephew Robert, whom it inspired with a zeal to excel in letter-writing; and. as the collection consisted of letters by the most eminent English writers, he persevered in the study until his own epistolary compositions surpassed the models. The letters of Burns are as wonderful as his poems. When he was about thirteen 1 r fourteen years of age. he advanced to a higher and more miscellaneous kind of reading: and the bonks of this class are specified as Pope's Poems, and Bo; e s Homer, some plays of Shakspeare, Boyle s /., Locke on the Human Understanding, //crrey's M .;.- tations, Taylor's Scripture Doctrine of Origin :.' Si; . and the works of Allan Ramsay and Smollett. And all these works not only read but masten peasant not advanced beyond the age ot ! But the most influential of them all was ./ C . .. ' of Songs. Here he had lighted upon the A grains on the surface which reveah It i gold-field in which he was t • dig ... rich. "That volume." he say- fervently, "was my r..\.v mecum. I pored over them, during my work. v. 1 r ority, there were also i is disqualifications. In thcolorr ; cal ' belief he c.uid scarcely ^ called ROBERT BURNS. orthodox, and his freedom in religious discussions were already procuring for him the character of being "not sound." His latitudinarian practices in some cases were but too correspondent to the flexibility of his creed, and these especially in matters of chastity and sobriety. He had even been punished for the sin of incontinence according to the rules of Scottish ecclesiastical discipline, by being rebuked in open congregation in the church of Mauchline by the Rev. Mr. Auld, the minister of the parish. Excluded by these cir- cumstances from the rigid or orthodox party, who comprised the bulk of the Scottish population, Burns had no alternative but to ally himself to their opponents, the moderates, who welcomed him as a valuable acquisition; and under their colours he commenced that bitter war against the opposite party which vented itself in poetical sar- casms, such as The Holy Fair, Holy Williis Prayer, and other similar productions. And most unjustly were these "priest-skelping turns" recorded against him as proofs of his irreligious spirit, his profanity, and general unbelief, while they were nothing more than the sharp strong utterances of party feeling and theological antagonism. He held up to ridicule the severe doctrines, the precise practices, and high pretentions of the orthodox clergy and their fol- lowers; and in this he only retaliated the charges with which they were wont to condemn the mode- rates. It was nothing more than a war at outrance, as all theological conflicts are wont to be. But Burns had the last word of it, because he had the word that lasts longest — and hence the intensity of their dislikes. The antagonism of the two parties still continues, but the scorching and withering satire of the poet is as fresh as ever. Xo wonder then that the charge of profanity has been continued against the poet until the present day. Were we to rake up the pamphlets and broad-sheets of this controversy, we should find paragraphs as bitter, and apparently as profane, written by clergymen on both sides of the question, whom the world never thought of accusing of irreligion, and whose memory, when their fight was ended, was allowed to rest in peace. Among the many charmers who had been succes- sively the objects of Burns's adoration, Jean Armour now reigned paramount. She was of a rank scarcely better than his own, being the daughter of a master- mason, in the village of Mauchline, of which locality she was the reigning belle. Their first meeting was characteristic of their country and station. Burns, while out shooting by the river side, saw a black- eyed, rosy-faced, jimp-waisted lassie about seventeen years of age, washing clothes in the Scottish fashion by tramping them in a tub, and cheering this dancing operation by lilting a Scottish song. His dog ran over a portion of the clothes that were spread out upon the green to dry; she threw a stone at the animal, to drive it away; and Burns sportively re- marked, "If you liked me, you would like my dog." This introduction led to a mutual acquaintanceship and fervent liking on both sides, of which the con- sequences at length became too apparent — the poor girl was about to become a mother. In this dilemma Burns was in no doubt as to what he ought to do: honour and justice required that he should anticipate the consequences by marriage. But his farming speculations had been an utter failure, so that he was obliged to throw up his .share of Moss- giel, of which his tenure had been only nominal; and having no home of his own, an immediate marriage was impossible. He did however wdiat he could, by giving her what are called in Scotland "marriage lines" — a precontract that constitutes a marriage according to law, and legitimates the offspring that would otherwise be branded with shame, independent of the sanctions of the church, which only visits such offenders with rebuke and fine before it notifies the union. With her character thus shielded, Jean was to remain in the paternal home, while her affianced husband was to repair to Jamaica, in the hope of securing such a position as would enable him to maintain a wife and family. But the discovery of her state prematurely occurred, and her father was in a transport of indignation. Even her marriage lines were of no avail, as he thought that his daughter's marriage with a man of such questionable character, and in Jamaica, would be worse than none. He therefore prevailed upon her to destroy the written documents, and abide the consequences of her imprudence. Burns was well-nigh distracted at the change, and offered to stay at home and sup- port his wife and children as he best could, by the wages of a daily labourer; but the old man would not relent; and when Jean Armour became the mother of twins, he sent the sheriff-officers after Burns, to compel him to find security for the support of his children, although well aware that he could not. In this difficulty the poet was obliged to flee to the mountains, until he could muster enough of money to convey him to Jamaica. He had already obtained the promise of a situation there, as an overseer or book-keeper, and for the price of his passage he had been advised to publish a collection of his poems by subscription. To these strange circumstances his im- mortal productions were indebted for their appearance before the world. Subscription papers were issued, the printing of his little volume was commenced in Kilmarnock, and these labours were alternated with his preparations for the West India voyage. Only 600 copies of this first edition were published, and from the sale Burns had just realized enough for the expenses of his expatriation; his chest had been forwarded by night to Greenock, for fear of an arrest; and he had composed the mournful ditty of The Gloomy Niglit is Gathering Fast, in which he bade farewell to his native district in the following mourn- ful accents: — " Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales, Her heathy moors and winding vales, The scenes where wretched fancy roves, Pursuing past unhappy loves. Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes! My peace with these — my love with those — The hursting tears my heart declare, Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr." But when all was at the darkest the storm was dis- persed, the sun broke out, and the whole landscape was gladdened with the singing of birds and the voice of joyful promise. I lis poemshad been read not merely with approbation, but with rapture and aston- ishment. The little publication was not merely poetry, but poetry of a new kind, or at least the long-lost an- cient inspiration recalled to fresh life and utterance. Among the foremost to recognize its excellence were the peasantry, whose simple life and ardent feelings it embodied in their own despised dialect; and while they read, they wondered at the poetical rich- ness of their native Doric, and the genius of him wdio had invested it with a power and attractiveness hitherto unfelt. And rapidly these feelings continued to widen until all classes were pervaded with their influence. The great national poet had appeared at last, and in the form of a half-educated ploughman ! In the preface to the first edition of his volume, a preface at once characterized by manly independence and modest timidity, Burns had thus characterized his attempt: — "The author certainly looks upon ROBERT BURN'S. 257 himself as possessed of some poetic abilities, other- wise his publishing in the manner he has done, would be a manoeuvre below the worst character, which, he hopes, his worst enemy will ever give him. But to the genius of a Ramsay, or the glorious dawnings of the poor unfortunate Ferguson, he with equal un- affected sincerity declares, that even in his highest pulse of vanity, he has not the most distant preten- sions." This he wrote in that humble spirit of self- appreciation, the characteristic of genius of the highest order, by which Burns was distinguished to the close of his career. But the united voice of the public at once contradicted this lowly estimate, and placed him far above the level of Ferguson and Ramsay. "When," it was asked, "had these poets written anything to be compared to The Cottar's Saturday Ni^ht, Ifullcnoeeri, or Tarn O 'Shunter?" But while the poet's fame was growing with such rapidity, something more immediate in its action was necessary to save him from ruin or exile. Still "the gloomy night was gathering fast," and relief delayed until to-morrow might come too late. He had successfully eluded the pursuit of his angry father-in-law; his luggage was on board at Greenock, and at the price of nine guineas he had secured a steerage passage to Jamaica, where, on landing, he would either be cut off by yellow fever, or committed to the unpoetical duties of a negro-driver. And what, under either alternative, would his genius, or the renown he was winning, avail him? At such a crisis relief appeared in the form of a blind old man. This was Dr. Blacklock; and honoured be the man that saved Burns to Scotland and the world at large! A copy of the poems of Burns had been sent to him, and their effect upon him was electric. Himself a poet, he recognized in them poetry of the very highest character; and, as free from envy as pure- hearted childhood, he was impatient to announce his admiration, and benefit the author. lie wrote a letter so full of encouragement, and inviting Burns so cordially to try his fortune in the metropolis, that the poet renounced his purpose of the Jamaica voyage before it was too late. "I posted," he says, "away to Edinburgh without a single acquaintance, or a single letter of introduction. The baneful star that had so long shed its blasting influence on my zenith, for once made a revolution to the nadir." It was in November, 1786, that Burns for the first time entered the Scottish capital, as if he had come into a new world. He might have appeared and walked among its throngs without notice, and passed away unremembered, for his outward form was not such as to separate him from the crowd. All that met the common view was a strongly-built peasant in his best clothes, with a dark physiognomy, and such a stoop as is generally acquired by hard- working bodily labour, and no one at first sight would hive thought that this was the Apollo of Scottish poetry. It was only in company, and in the glow of conversation, that his homely countenance was lighted into eloquence, and his large black deep- set eyes were more powerful than words. But as such distinctive advantages could only be recognized upon acquaintanceship, it wa> as well for Burns that, though he carried no letters of introduction, he was not unknown to Edinburgh. The first week or two he resided chiefly with Ayrshire acquaintances in a state of obscurity; but his productions in the meantime were preparing the way tor him, and be- speaking a cordial welcome. Already he was known by fame among some of the highest literary characters in Edinburgh. A critique which appeared in the Lounger, giving '"An Account of Robert Burns, the Ayrshire Ploughman, with Extracts from his Poems," VOL. I. from the elegant pen of the author of the Man of Feeling, had not only wafted his reputation over Scotland, but had carried it into England. These were introduction enough, and as soon as it was known that he was in Edinburgh, all classes were eager to see him, and be admitted into his company. Besides Dr. Blacklock, he could soon enrol among his personal acquaintances, the Earl of Glencairn, Professor Dugald Stewart, Principal Robertson the historian, Dr. Blair the eloquent divine, Dr. Gregory, Frazer Tytler, and the greatest northern celebrities of the day. It was a different society from that of Mauchline and Tarbolton; but Burns was equal t<> the occasion, and his conversational powers, instead of lessening, only deepened the impression which his poetical genius had created. His appearance, demeanour, and bearing in such distinguished com- panies are well described by one who was afterwards to enjoy an intellectual reputation more varied, and but a little lower than his own. Among Sir Walter Scott's interesting reminiscences of Burns are the following: — "As for Burns, I may truly say, ' Vir- gilium vidi tantum. y I was a lad of fifteen in 1786- 7, when he came first to Edinburgh, but had sense and feeling enough to be much interested in his poetry, and would have given the world to know him; but I had very little acquaintance with any literary people, and still less with the gentry of the west country, the two sets that he most frequented. . . . As it was, I saw him one day at the late venerable Professor Henderson's, where there were several gentlemen of literary reputation, among whom I remember the celebrated Dugald Stewart. Of course we youngsters sat silent, looked and listened. The only thing I remember which was remarkable in Bums's manner was the effect pro- duced upon him by a print of Banbury's, represent- ing a soldier lying dead on the snow, his dog sitting in misery on the one side, and on the other his widow with a child in her arms. These lines were written beneath: — " Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain, Perhaps that parent wept her soldier slain; Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew. The big drops mingling with the milk he drew. Gave the sad presage of his future years, The child of misery baptized in tears." Burns seemed much affected by the print, or rather the ideas which it suggested to his mind. He ac- tually shed tears. He asked whose the lines were. but it chanced that nobody but myself remembered that they occur in a half- forgotten poem of Lang- home's, called by the unpromising title of the Justice of the Peace. I whispered my informa- tion to a friend present, who mentioned it to Bums, who rewarded me with a look and a word, which, though of mere civility. I then received, and still recollect, with very great pleasure." The great delineator of Scotland and its ; then proceeds to the portraiture of the national poet: — "His person was strong and robust; his manners rustic, not clownish; a sort ol d:_ plainness and simplicity, which receive; part of its effect perhaps from one's knowledge of hi- ex: in- ordinary talents. . . . I would have taken the j net. had I not known what he was. for a very sagacious farmer of the old Scottish school — i.e. none of y ur modern agriculturists, who keep labo; rers t ir their drudgery, but the douce gudentan \vh ' held his own plough. There was a strong expre>-: >n oj ser.se and shrewdness in all his lineaments; the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical character and tem- perament. It w.\s large, an 1 of a dark ca-t. ar.d glowed (I say literally _.'.■:.. fl when he spoke with feeling or interest. 1 never -aw -uch another eve 17 ROBERT BURNS. in a human head, though I have seen the most dis- tinguished men in my time. His conversation ex- pressed perfect self-confidence, without the slightest presumption. Among the men who were the most learned of their time and country, he expressed him- self with perfect firmness, but without the least intrusive forwardness; and when he differed in opinion, he did not hesitate to express it firmly, yet at the same time with modesty." Mention has been made of Dugald Stewart as among the distinguished characters with whom Burns associated in Edinburgh, and to the eye of the emi- nent and accomplished philosopher the rustic bard was a subject of intense psychological interest. As he also associated frequently with Burns, and was better qualified by matured years and the nature of his studies to obtain a more complete insight into the poet's mind than Sir Walter could enjoy from his single interview, his account gives features and colouring to the picture which the former could only sketch in outline. We select from it the following extract, as it is too long to be given in detail : — "His manners were then, as they continued ever afterwards, simple, manly, and independent; strongly expressive of conscious genius and worth; but without anything that indicated forwardness, arrogance, or vanity. He took his share in conversation, and not more than belonged to him; and listened with ap- parent attention and deference on subjects where his want of education deprived him of the means of information. If there had been a little more of gentleness and accommodation in his temper, he would, I think, have been still more interesting; but he had been accustomed to give law in the circle of his ordinary acquaintance, and his dread of anything approaching to meanness or servility rendered his manner somewhat decided and hard. Nothing, •perhaps, was more remarkable among his various attainments, than the fluency, and precision, and originality of his language, when he spoke in com- pany; more particularly as he aimed at purity in his turn of expression, and avoided more successfully than most Scotchmen the peculiarities of Scottish phraseology. . . . The attentions he received during his stay in town from all ranks and descriptions of persons, were such as would have turned any head but his own. I cannot say that I could per- ceive any unfavourable effect which they left on his mind, lie retained the same simplicity of manners and appearance which had struck me so forcibly when I first saw him in the country; nor did he seem to feel any additional self-importance from the number and rank of his new acquaintance. ... He had a very strong sense of religion, and expressed deep regret at the levity with which he had heard it treated occasionally in some convivial meetings which he frequented. ... I do not recollect whether it appears or not from any of your letters to me, that ever you had seen Burns. If you have, it is superfluous for me to add, that the idea which his conversation conveyed of the powers of his mind exceeded, if possible, that which is suggested by his writings. Among the poets whom I have happened to know, I have been struck in more than one in- stance with the unaccountable disparity between their general talents and the occasional inspirations of their more favoured moments. But all the facul- ties of Burns's mind were, as far as I could judge, equally vigorous; and his predilection for poetry- was rather the result of his own enthusiastic and im- passioned temper than of a genius exclusively adapted to that species of composition. From his conversa- tion I should have pronounced him to be fitted to excel in whatever walk of ambition he had chosen to exert his abilities. ... I must not omit to mention, what I have always considered as charac- teristic in a high degree of true genius, the extreme facility and good nature of his taste in judging of the compositions of others, where there was any real ground for praise. I repeated to him many passages of English poetry with which he was unacquainted, and have more than once witnessed the tears of admiration and rapture with which he heard them. In judging of prose, I do not think his taste was equally sound. . . . The influence of this taste is very perceptible in his own prose compositions, al- though their great and various excellencies render some of them scarcely less objects of wonder than his poetical performances. The late Dr. Robertson used to say, that, considering his education, the former seemed to him the more extraordinary of the two." Such was Burns as he appeared for the first time before the highest intellects of Edinburgh; and it will be seen, that while they recognized the wonder- ful talents and many-sided intellect of the Ayrshire ploughman, it was with the homage that is due to a superior genius. By a single stride he had stepped from obscurity to an intellectual throne, while none disputed his right to occupy it. And this was at a time too wdien there were giants in the land — men so eminent in every intellectual department that this period might be called the Augustan era of Scot- land. Every circle was eager to fete him, and Burns was the honoured guest of every evening party of rank and genius in the northern capital. But more wonderful still than this sudden elevation, was the equanimity with which he sustained it, so that after he had passed through the ordeal, he re- tained the same estimate of himself and of others as before: such incense had neither impaired his intel- lect, nor corrupted his heart. And well would it have been for him had he in like manner escaped the other contagions with which he was surrounded. But with all its intellectual reputation, Edinburgh had not yet thrown aside the besetting vice of the national character, and at this time it enjoyed the unenviable distinction of being one of the most hard-drinking cities in Europe. Affairs of business in every department were usually conducted in taverns, and no evening party, however select, was complete without an immoderate amount of drinking from which the most abstinent could not wholly escape. In such a state of things, to remain uncon- taminated would have been little less than miracu- lous, more especially when the previous life of Burns, and his fervid temperament, are taken into account. His whole existence had been one of such difficulties and privations as seldom fall even to the lot of the peasantry, and his course had hitherto been one of habitual abstinent sobriety, although checkered with a few instances of social excess among the smugglers of the coast of Carrick, or the rustics oi Mauchline and Tarbolton. But to find himsell suddenly elevated into the circles of rank, beaut}', and fashion, and playing a high part in the festive conversations of the learned, the witty, and the eloquent, was too much for humanity, or at least the portion which had fallen to his share; the allure- ment of the moment overmastered him; and while- he went pari passu with such attractive companions, it was into paths that charmed him by their novelty, and with a zest that made his return all the more difficult. Thus the habit was formed which clouded his after-life, and which the most enthusiastic of his admirers are compelled to acknowledge and de- plore. In coming to Edinburgh, one important object of ROBERT BURNS. 259 Burns was to publish his poems anew; accordingly a second edition was published by Creech early in March, 1787; and as nearly 3000 copies were quickly sold, his reputation was not only more widely dif- fused than ever, but such a sum realized as enabled him to support his expenses in Edinburgh, and after- wards to undertake a tour over some of the most interesting portions of his native country, and parts of the English border. At his return, the greater part of the winter of 1 787-8 was spent in Edinburgh, where he was received with as hearty a welcome, and involved in the same dissipation, as before. But it was time that he should now settle down into the occupations of his future life, and for this he was provided with the means, as on settling with his publisher Creech, in February, 1788, he found him- self possessed of the clear sum of £s°°- ^ e re " turned to his family, but no longer the same person who had left it; for he was not only rich according to peasant estimation, but had achieved an illustrious reputation, and associated with the most distinguished men of the land. One of his first acts was to ad- vance ^200 to his brother Gilbert, who was still struggling with difficulties on the farm of Mossgiel; with the remainder of his capital, and other profits that were still accruing from the sale of his poems, he rented the farm of Ellisland on the banks of the Nith, six miles above Dumfries, and entered into occupation on Whitsunday, 1 788. I Iehad previously applied to the board of excise, and been put on the list for the office of exciseman, and this profession he intended to combine with that of a farmer. His next step was to marry Jean Armour, his betrothed wife, who had twice made him the father of twins, although only one of the four children she had borne to him now survived. In such a union there was no longer any difficulty with her parents, who were now as eager to have him for their son-in-law as they had formerly been averse to it. On thus enter- ing into a regular married life, nothing could be more heroic than the resolutions he formed to avoid his former deviations, and commence in earnest a steady, industrious, virtuous career. These resolu- tions he thus expressed in his common-place book, on Sunday the 14th of June, 1788: — "This is now the third day that I have been in this country. ' I .ord, what is man!' What a bustling little bundle of passions, appetites, ideas, and fancies; and what a capricious kind of existence he has here ! . . . I am such a coward in life, so tired of the service, that I would almost at any time, with Milton's Adam, gladly lay me in my mother's lap, and be at peace. But a wife and children bind me to struggle with the stream, till some sudden squall shall overset the silly vessel, or, in the listless re- turn of years, its own craziness reduce it to a wreck. Farewell now to those giddy follies, those varnished vices, which, though half sanctified by the bewitch- ing levity of wit and humour, are at best but thrift- loss idling with the precious current of existence; nay, often poisoning the whole, that, like the plains of Jericho, the water is naught and the ground barren, ami nothing short of a supernaturally gifted Flisha can ever after heal the evils." Thus repentant of the past, and resolute upon a course of amendment, burns resumed the simple life of a farmer on settling at Ellisland. P.ut a whole arrav of obstacles was opposed to the purposed reformation. The luxuries ol rich men's tables had indisposed him for the simple peasant fare of his former lowly condition. The varied ami exciting life he had led since the fu>t publication of his poems had unfitted him for the plodding and persevering .industry without which the work of farming cannot be successfully carried on. And more than all were the bacchanalian indulgences in which he had re- velled among the societies of the learned and dis- tinguished in Edinburgh, and which he was now willing to repeat, although with diminished lustre, among the bonnet-lairds and farmers of Dumfries- shire. Every tourist, also, who visited Scotland, thought his task incomplete without enjoying an interview with its great poet; and such interviews it was impossible to hold without what were considered the due rites of hospitality. Against these strong temptations he continued to battle, and with such partial success, that his constitution was as yet un- broken; and although the allurements of social excess were generally too much for him, he had not as yet fallen into the habitual use of ardent spirits. Under these circumstances, there was still hope of recovery, and that a better course of life was await- ing him, when his transition from a farmer to a gauger decided the momentous question. His ap- plication to the board of excise had been successful, and he had been appointed exciseman of his district with a humble salary of ^50 per annum. He felt the degradation of the office, of which he thus wrote in one of his letters, "I am now a poor rascally gauger, condemned to gallop two hundred miles every week, to inspect dirty ponds and yeasty barrels." But this continual travelling, and variety of scene and action, he found more attractive than monotonous occupation in the narrow limits of Ellisland; so that while the work of the farm was left to servants, who might waste or mismanage at pleasure, his days were chiefly spent on horseback, and in a chase after smugglers among the hills and dales of Nithsdale. Such explorations also were calculated to confirm his irregular habits, and throw him into society the least distinguished for tem- perance and regularity. His farming speculations proving a failure — as how could they otherwise in such circumstances? — he, at the end of three years and a half, abandoned Ellisland, and at the close of 1 79 1 removed with his family to a small house in the town of Dumfries, having been appointed exciseman to a new district, the emoluments of which were about £~o per annum. It was there, alas ! that his irregularities grew into confirmed habits, which finally hurried him into an untimely grave. Of this period of his life the following account, given by Heron in his Life of Burns, is ton fully borne out by general testimony to be contra- dicted: — "In Dumfries his dissipation became still more deeply habitual. He was here exposed more than in the country, to be solicited to share the riot of the dissolute and the idle. Foolish young men. such as writers' apprentices, young surgeons, mer- chants' clerks, and his brother excisemen, flocked eagerly about him, and from time to time pres>ed hiin to drink with them, that they might enjoy his wicked wit. The Caledonian Club, too, and the Dumfries and Calloway Hunt, had occasional meet- ings at Dumfries after Burns came to reside and the poet was of course invited to share the 1 hospitality, and hesitated not to accept the imita- tion. The morals of the town were, in conse- quence of its becoming so much the scene > : public amusement, not a little pted, and. though a husband and a father. Bums did 1 t e? a] ■ suffering by the general contamination, in a manner which I forbear to describe. In the intervals between his different fits of intemperance, he suf- fered the keenest angui.-h of rem >rse and horribly afflictive foresight. His K with a de- gree o( maternal and c : lerness and prudence, which made him feel more bitterly the 26o ROBERT BURNS. evils of his misconduct, though they could not reclaim him." Amidst this desperate struggle between his better resolutions and his trespasses, in which every lapse was seen in its true light only when too late, and followed by the unavailing tortures of self-reproach and resolutions of reformation that proved equally unavailing, Burns had not abandoned the high voca- tion by which he was set apart from other men. At Ellisland, indeed, it appears from his letters, that he wrote little poetry, and for this the nature of his posi- tion may sufficiently account. He had commenced the important work of life in earnest, the every-day realities of which were scarcely favourable to poetical ideality; and after what he had already achieved, he might repose for a while upon his laurels. But in 1 792 a call was made upon his muse to which he could not be inattentive. In that year Mr. George Thomson, clerk of the honourable board of trustees in Edin- burgh, and distinguished as a musical amateur, pro- jected a work entitled ",-/ Select Collection of Origi- nal Scottish Airs for the Voice: to which are added, Introductory and Concluding Symphonies and Ac- companiments for the Piano Eorte and Violin, by Pleyel and Korleuck, with Select and Characteristic Verses by the most admired Scottish Poets." It was a patriotic enterprise as well as a labour of love on the part of Mr. Thomson, who, far from rich, was yet willing to peril all that he had on a costly publi- cation by which the song-music of his country was to be preserved. But without the aid and co-opera- tion of Burns, how could such a purpose be fulfilled? It was natural that the editor should apply to the author of the Cottar's Saturday Night, and he in- voked him, "for the honour of Caledonia," to take up the pen, and write twenty or twenty-five songs suited to the particular melodies which he was prepared to send him — hinting, at the same time, a reason- able pecuniary remuneration. Burns was already a large contributor to Johnson's Musical Museum, but no sooner did Mr. Thomson's application arrive than he returned a cordial assent. He was ready to reform the old national songs, as well as to write new ones. But the idea of payment for his contribu- tions he peremptorily and indignantly rejected. "As to any remuneration," he wrote, "you may think my songs either above or below price; for they shall absolutely be the one or the other. In the honest enthusiasm with which I embark in your undertak- ing, to talk of money, wages, fee, hire, &c, would be downright prostitution of soul! A proof of each of the songs that I compose or amend, I shall receive as a favour." And this from a man with a wife and family, and only seventy pounds a year ! But poetry, in his eyes, wa^ too sacred a commodity to be sold; and so long as he was free from a jail or absolute starvation, he would give it cheerfully and without price. The result was, that instead of twenty or twenty-five songs, the number originally specified, he contributed to Thomson's collection 150, of which more than one half were wholly original, and the rest either improvements of old verses, or verses of his own which had previously appeared in Johnson's Museum. And could such songs be written by an author with the fumes of strong drink in his head, or whose delicacy of genius and strength of intellect a course of habitual intemperance had impaired? Do they not rather prove that the excesses of the poet while he lived in Dumfries have been overdrawn, and that his aberrations, however culpable, were rather occasional than habitual? Hut however partial his lapses may have been, they were now to be visited with their natural retri- bution. The early hypochondriacal tendencies of his constitution had admonished him of the dangers of intemperance in vain, and the temporary cure which he sought in stimulants and exciting society had confirmed the disease beyond remedy. More than a year before his death, there was a decline in his personal appearance, and from October, 1795, to the January following a severe rheumatism confined him to the house. Me had scarcely recovered, and was still in a state of debility, when he imprudently joined a party at a tavern dinner, where the merriment was kept up till about three in the morning. The weather was severe, and Burns, who was intoxicated, is said to have fallen asleep upon the snow in his way home. On the following morning his rheuma- tism returned upon him with redoubled violence, and after languishing under it till the middle of summer, he repaired to Brow in Annandale, on the shore of the Solway Firth, hoping to effect a recovery by- sea-bathing. But he soon felt that his days were numbered. Mrs. Riddell of Glenriddel, a beautiful and accomplished lady, and a friend of the poet, happened at that time to be residing in the neighbour- hood, and her interview with him, of which she has left a full account, gives us a distinct idea of the last clays of Burns. The stamp of death was on his features, and with that playfulness which is often more expressive of sadness than mirth, he said, on entering the room, "Well, madam, have you any commands for the other world?" In the conversa- tion that followed, he spoke of his approaching death with firmness, but also with feeling, and his principal sorrow was for his four young children who would be left unprotected, and for his wife, who was hourly expected to be delivered of a fifth. He then passed to the subject of his poems, and especially the publi- cation of his posthumous works, and regretted that every scrap he had written would be revived and printed to the injury of his future reputation, when he was no longer at hand to vindicate it. He also re- gretted the epigrams he had penned on persons against whom he entertained no enmity, and his indifferent poetical pieces, which, after his death, would be thrust upon the world with all their imperfections on their head; and expressed his sorrow for having delayed to put his papers into a proper state of arrangement, as it was now too late. "I have seldom," adds Mrs. Riddell, "seen his mind greater or more collected. There was frequently a considerable degree of vivacity in his sallies, and they would probably have had a greater share, had not the concern and dejection I could not disguise clamped the spirit of pleasantry he seemed not unwilling to indulge. We parted about sunset on the evening of that day (the 5th of July, 1795); the next day I saw him again, and we parted to meet no more." binding no relief from bathing, and having a fresh attack of lever, Burns on the iSth of July was brought back to Dumfries, but so greatly enfeebled, that lie could no longer stand upright. It was known that his case was past all hope, and the town was darkened as with the gloom of a public calamity. His faults and failings were forgot, all ranks and classes united in a common sympathy, and wherever two or three townsfolks were assembled in the streets, their talk was of the poet, of his wonderful genius and loveable qualities, and how greatly their town and Scotland at large would be a loser by his de- parture. Nor was that event long in following, for he died on the 21st of July, the third day after his return home. On the 26th he was buried, and with such obsequies as are not always accorded to the highest rank; for besides the volunteers of Dumfries, the fencible infantry of Angus-shire and the cavalry of the Cinque Port's, then quartered at Dumfries, ROBERT BURNS SIR ROBERT CALDER. 261 who marched at the funeral with their banners and military music, about ten or twelve thousand persons followed them in procession, many of whom had travelled from a great distance to be present at the solemnity. If anything also could deepen such a sorrowful scene, it was an event which at that moment was occurring in the house of mourning, for Mrs. Burns was at the same time delivered of a posthumous son, who died in infancy. Nor did the public sympathy here terminate, for, as the poet died poor, an immediate exertion followed in behalf of his family, for whose support upwards of ,£700 were collected; and this sum, with the profits of Dr. Currie's Life and Edition of Burns, formed such a fund as their father had never possessed while living, and furnished his children with the means of an excellent education that fitted them for the honourable career which was afterwards opened up to them. The less substantial but more public honours to his memory succeeded; the street in which he had lived was thenceforth, by the authority of the magistrates of Dumfries, named Burns Street; a mausoleum to his memory was erected in the churchyard where he lies buried, and another near theCalton Hill, Edinburgh; and a yearly anniversary was established, on which day all who value his writings and revere his worth, in whatever country of both hemispheres, assemble to talk of our national poet, and the benefit which his works have conferred not merely upon Scotland, but upon humanity at large, and for all future time. The family of Robert Burns by Jean Armour con- sisted, from first to last, of five sons and four daughters; but all the latter died in early youth, and also two of the former, leaving only three survivors out of such a numerous family. Of these, Robert the eldest, a retired clerk of the accountant- general's department, died at Dumfries; the youngest, Lieut. -col. James Glencairn Burns, of the E. I. C.'s service, died at Cheltenham in 1866; and of the whole family none now survive but William Nicoi Burns, also a colonel of the E. I. C, who retired from the service about twenty years ago, at the same time as his brother James, and lived with him at Cheltenham. But no grandson of the poet by the male line is living, his only grandchildren being two females, the daughters of Colonel James. Thus Robert Burns has shared in the mournful distinction reserved for poets only of the highest order- no grandson of his by the male line will found a family that will represent him to future generations. Thus, in common with Shakspeare, Milton, and Scott, he must pay the price for such a lasting name, and renown that will be imperishable. At his death, his partner, "bonnie Jean," was still young, and fully deserving of her title; but true to the memory of her first and only affection, she continued unmarried, and after living honoured and beloved by all who knew her, died in March, 1834, in her seventieth year. BUTE, Earl of. See Stuart, James. c. CALDER, Sir Robert, Bart. It has been truly remarked by Ilallam, that the state trials of England exhibit the most appalling accumulation of judicial iniquity that can be found in any age or country. And why? Because, as he adds, the monarch cannot wreak his vengeance, or the nobles vent the bitterness of their feuds, except in a law court, and by a legal process. The trials connected with the history of the British navy, and the ini- quitous sentences passed upon some of our most heroic and deserving admirals, attest too fully the truth of Ilallam's observation. Byng, Matthews, Cochrane — the first shot, the second cashiered, and the third imprisoned, from no adequate cause, or without cause whatever — are cases that seem to carry us back, not to the dark ages, when heroism at least was fairly appreciated, but to the old Carthaginian periods, when the bravest generals were crucified as often as their rivals entered into place and power. A fourth British admiral, who was the victim of an unjust trial and most undeserved punishment, was Sir Robert Calder, the subject of the present notice. And we judge it the more necessary to introduce him with the preceding remarks, as it is only now, after the lapse of many years, that men are disposed to render full justice to his memory and worth. Robert Calder was the second son of Sir Thomas Calder of Muirton, Morayshire, and was born at Elgin on the 2d of July, 1745. At the age of four- teen he entered the navy as midshipman. At the age of twenty-one he had attained the rank of lieutenant on board the Essex, commanded by the lion. George Kalkner, and served on the West India station. Promotion, however, was long in coming, for it was not until after manv vears that he obtained the command of a ship. In 17S2 he was captain of the Diana, which was employed as a repeating- frigate to Rear-admiral Kempenfelt. At this period, also, he was an unwilling sharer in one of those events which the British historian is com- pelled to record to the shame of our glorious navy. The united fleets of F ranee and Spain had appeared upon our coasts; but Sir Charles Hardy, who com- manded the English fleet, was ordered not to risk an engagement, so that he was obliged to retire between the Wolf-rock and the Main. Such an inglorious retreat, at a time when the flag of Rodney was triumphant, so maddened our gallant tars, that they muffled with their hammocks a figure-head of George III., swearing that his majesty should not be witness of their flight. Captain Calder, who belonged to the rear-division, so fully sympathized in their feelings, that, although his vessel was within a short distance of a large French two-decker, that could have blown him out of the water by a single broadside, he kept his place, until he was peremp- torily ordered by signal to retire. On the renewal of war with France, Captain < was employed in various services, trom which little individual distinction was to be acquired ; but in these he acquitted himself so well as to establish his character for naval skill and courage. He v a- finally appointed captain of the fleet by Sir John Jervis, and was present at the memorable engagement of the 14th of February. 1707. off Cape St. Vincent, when the Spanish fleet of twenty-seven sail of the line and twelve frigates was completely defeated by Jervis, with only fifteen ships and six frigates. ( Hi this great occasion, where Nelson and Coilingwood were the heroes of the encounter, Captain Calder ac- 262 SIR ROBERT CALDER. quitted himself so ably, that on being sent home with the despatches, he was honoured with knight- hood, and aftenvards made a baronet. On the 14th of February, 1799, he rose in the service by seniority to the rank of rear-admiral; and in 1 801 was sent with a small squadron in chase of Admiral Gan- theaume, who was carrying supplies to the French army in Egypt. A short-lived peace followed, and Sir Robert Calder retired to his residence in Hamp- shire, from which he was quickly recalled to sea by the renewal of hostilities with France; and in 1804 he was raised to the rank of Vice-admiral of the White. This fresh commencement of war was an event of more than common importance to Great Britain. Its liberty, its very existence as a nation, were now at stake; for Bonaparte, hitherto so successful in all his enterprises, had resolved to invade it, and for this purpose was making preparations at Boulogne commensurate with what he meant to be his crown- ing enterprise. An immense flotilla was constructed and put in readiness to convey an army of 150,000 veteran soldiers from Boulogne to the shores of Kent, after which, a march upon London was deemed an easy achievement. Still further to insure the facili- ties of such an invasion, these flat-bottomed tran- sports were ostentatiously armed, as if they alone were intended to force a passage across the British Channel, and thus the attention of our statesmen was withdrawn from the real point where danger was to be apprehended. This consisted in the contemplated junction of the French and Spanish fleets, which was to be effected while the eyes of England were ex- clusively fixed upon the land show of preparations going on at Boulogne. While these warlike boats were intended for transports, and nothing more, Napoleon's real design was to collect forty or fifty ships of the line in the harbour of Martinique, by operations combined in the harbours of Toulon, Cadiz, Ferrol, and Brest; to bring them suddenly back to Boulogne; and while thus making himself for fifteen days master of the sea, to have his whole army transported into England without interruption. Never, perhaps, since the days of William the Conqueror, had England been in such imminent jeopardy. While her statesmen were still thrown off their guard, and imagining that the only danger lay in the flotilla, the vessels preparing in the ports of Ferrol, Cadiz, and Carthagena consisted of thirty- eight French and thirty Spanish ships of the line; and these, if combined, would have been sufficient to hold the English Channel against all the force which our nation could muster. To attempt a blockade of the hostile harbours was the only ex- pedient that occurred to the British government in this emergency, and the important task of blockading the ports of Ferrol and Corunnawas intrusted to Sir Robert Calder. Even yet, however, the design of Bonaparte was so little surmised, that Sir Robert's force on this occasion was utterly incommensurate with the greatness of the crisis, for only seven sail were allowed him, which were afterwards raised to nine; and with these he was to prevent five French ships of the line and three frigates, and five Spanish ships of the line and four frigates, from leaving the hostile harbours. Thus the blockade was to be maintained by a force which was greatly inferior to that of the enemy. Undismayed by this disparity, Sir Robert entered his appointed station, and main- tained it, notwithstanding the manoeuvres of the Brest squadron to entice him into the open sea. At length the moment arrived which Bonaparte had anticipated. The imperfect blockades of the British had been in several cases eluded; the West Indies had been reached by several hostile squadrons; and Nelson, who had gone in pursuit without being able to reach them, only learned at the last moment that the combined French and Spanish fleets had set sail from Martinique, and were in full return to Europe. A swift-sailing vessel, which he sent with this intelligence, happily outstripped the combined fleet, and thus, at the last moment, and by an inter- vention truly providential, the British government was put upon its guard. The first movement of the enemy, to which they were directed in conse- quence of the express command of Bonaparte, was to raise the blockade of Ferrol, and that accom- plished, to proceed with the F'rench and Spanish ships lying there to the relief of the other ports, by which their whole combined navy would be collected in full force in the English Channel. Sir Robert Calder was thus to abide the first brunt of the onset, and upon the stoutness of his resistance the issue of the great trial between France and England would mainly depend. Conscious of this, the British government despatched instant orders to Rear- admiral Stirling, who commanded a squadron before Rochefort, to raise the blockade of that harbour, join Sir Robert Calder off Ferrol, and cruise with him off Cape Finisterre, to intercept the allied fleet of the enemy on their homeward passage to Brest. As soon as the junction between the two British squadrons was effected, Sir Robert Calder stood out to sea, and quickly reached the station appointed for his cruise. Although the addition of Stirling's squadron raised his whole force to nothing more than fifteen ships of the line, two frigates, a cutter, and a lugger, he had little fear of the issue, as the French and Spanish fleet was supposed to amount to only sixteen ships. But as soon as the enemy hove in sight, looming through a fog that had con- cealed their approach until they were close at hand, it was found that they consisted of twenty line-of- battle ships, a fifty gun-ship, seven frigates, and two brigs. This was an unexpected and startling dis- parity; but Sir Robert boldly entered into action, although the fog that had commenced in the morning made it necessary for his ships, which bore down in two columns, to tack before they reached the enemy. A close action of four hours ensued, in which the British, notwithstanding their inferiority of numbers, behaved with such gallantry and spirit that a signal victory would probably have been the consequence, had it not been for the haze, which became so dense that Sir Robert was scarcely able to see his ships either ahead or astern. As it was, he had already captured two large Spanish ships, the Rafael of eighty-four, and the Firme of seventy-four guns; and, judging it imprudent to continue the fight, he brought to, for the purpose of covering his prizes, and waiting an opportunity to renew the engage- ment. On the following day the French and Spanish fleet, having the advantage of the windward, ad- vanced within a league and a half of the British, upon which, Sir Robert, hauling on the wind, offered them battle; but Villeneuve, the admiral of the com- bined fleet, refused the challenge, by hauling to the wind on the same tack as his adversary. On the third day Sir Robert once more offered battle, but in vain; and, being now justly apprehensive of the union of the enemy with the Rochefort and Ferrol squadrons, under whose combined force his own would have been overwhelmed, he fell back, relying upon the support of the Channel fleet, or that of Lord Nelson; while Villeneuve, instead of holding on in his course, was fain to retire into Ferrol. This meeting, that was fraught with such momentous con- sequences, occurred in lat. 43 J 30' north, and long. SIR ROBERT CALDER. 263 n J 17' west, or about forty leagues from Ferrol, on the 22(1 of July, 1805. Nothing could exceed the rage and vexation of Napoleon at this engagement and its result. He saw that, by this single stroke, all his preparations at Boulogne were frustrated, and the projected in- vasion of England rendered hopeless. As soon as he received the tidings, he summoned Count Daru, his private secretary, into the apartment, who, on entering, found the emperor traversing the room with hurried steps, and exclaiming, "What a navy! What sacrifices for nothing! What an admiral! All hope is gone! That Villeneuve, instead of entering the Channel, has taken refuge in Ferrol! It is all over: he will be blockaded there. Dam, sit down and write.'' Daru took up his pen accordingly, and, with the rapidity of lightning, Napoleon dictated the details of the breaking up of the army at Boulogne, the routes and movements of the different corps, and all the complicated minutiae of the campaign that ended so triumphantly at Austerlitz. In this manner the terrible storm that was to have gathered and burst over London, was suddenly wafted away to the shores of the Danube and the devoted palaces of Vienna. Speaking of his disappointment in after years, Bonaparte said, "If Admiral Villeneuve, instead of entering into the harbour of Ferrol, had contented himself with joining the Spanish squadron, and instantly made sail for Brest, and joined Admiral Oantheaume, my army would have embarked, and it was all over with England." While such was the judgment of Napoleon upon this event — and certainly no one was so fitted to foretell its consequences — a very different estimation was made of it in England. There, a long series of naval victories had so pampered the public vanity, that the defeat of a British fleet was deemed im- possible, ami anything short of its full success a proof of the most culpable negligence and shortcoming. It was the counterpart of that land-delusion which made our countrymen imagine that every Briton was able to beat three Frenchmen, until subsequent events reduced them to a more reasonable calcula- tion. Of this overweening estimate Sir Robert Calder was soon to taste the bitter fruits. He had encountered a fleet, no matter how superior to his own, and not annihilated it; he had allowed it to slip through his fingers, and find shelter in a friendly harbour. In the meantime, the unconscious victim of such unreasonable obloquy was congratulating himself on his services, and anticipating nothing less than the approbation of his country. With an in- ferior force he had blocked up the enemy in port for nearly five months; he had afterwards encountered and held the combined fleet at bay when their ships greatly outnumbered his own, and made two valu- able captures without losing a single vessel. These advantages were so justly appreciated by Lord Corn- wallis, his superior in command, that on the 17th of August, 1S05, Calder was sent back with twenty ships to Ferrol, from which Villeneuve had ventured out at the express command of Napoleon, to join the French tleet at Brest; but, on hearing of Sir Robert Calder's approach, instead of pursuing his course, he tacked about and made sail for Cadiz, which he reached on the 2lst. Thus Calder had the honour of baffling, for the second time, an expedition, upon which the fate of Kngland was at stake; and Vil- leneuve. shut up in Cadiz, was obliged to remain at anchorage there, until all was ready for the crushing disaster at Trafalgar. But the same winds that carried Calder against his antagonist, and enabled him once more to baffle the most cherished ot Napoleon's objects, also bore to his ears the murmurs of the admiralty at home, and brought to him the public prints in which his courage as a British sailor, and his loyalty as a British subject, were equally called in question. Indignant at these aspersions, and the eagerness with which they were received, he resolved to right himself by a public trial. He therefore demanded from the lords of the admiralty the sitting of a court- martial upon his conduct, notwithstanding the earnest entreaties of Nelson that he should remain on th-.- station, and await the expected engagement, in which his reputation would be fully cleared. On finding, however, that his brother-admiral was impatient of an hour's delay until his character was vindicated, the hero of the Nile sent him home in the Prince of IVales, his own ship of ninety J, r uns, to do Calder the greater honour, although such a diminution from the fleet could be ill spared at that period. On the arrival of the vessel at Spithead, the court-martial was held on board on the 23d of December, 1S05. After the witnesses had been examined, Sir Robert entered upon his defence. He quoted several recent cases in which our best naval commanders had re- frained from the renewal of an encounter without any impeachment of the propriety of their forbear- ance. He stated that the Rochefort and Ferrol squadrons, to the number of twenty sail of the line, were supposed to be at sea when the battle of the 22cl of July occurred; and that had he waited for their junction with the enemy, whose force already so greatly exceeded his own, he must have been utterly overpowered. Even had he been only dis- abled in the encounter, these united squadrons might have pressed onward for Ireland, or even for England, and thus have facilitated the long-threatened inva- sion of our country. In this case, it was necessary to preserve his fleet for ulterior operations instead of risking a renewal of the action, and the more espe- cially, that on the morning after the battle, he found himself eight or nine miles to leeward, while some of his ships were so greatly disabled, that they could not carry sufficient sail to windward, and others were wholly out of sight. Matters being such, and be- lieving that the design of the enemy was to reach Ferrol, and there unite with the blockaded squadron, he had done what he could: he had thrown himseh between the port of Ferrol and the combined fleet for two days under an easy press of sail, neither offer- ing nor shunning an encounter; and as often as the enemy menaced a renewal of action, he had accepted the challenge by hauling up his wind. All this he stated at large, and with the most convincing per- spicuity; and at the close he burst forth with indig- nant eloquence upon the wrong with which him-elt and his brave companions had been treated, and the manner in which his despatches had been mutilated. and some important parts of them suppressed. But his arguments and his eloquence were in vain; i scape-i^oat was needed to carry off upon its ini head the manifold blunder- of the admiralty, and >ir Robert Calder had been selected for this office. Hi- defence accordingly was overruled, and - ' -"' the following sentence was pronounci .: court is of opinion, that the charge of : ' done his utmost to renew th take and destroy every ship of the enem; proved against the -aid Vice-admiral >!r I; Calder; that it appears that his 1 1 t been actuated either by cowardice or ..:-■: arisen solely from em r i censurable, and doth id I reprimanded; and the sai ! Vi - Nr R er; Calder is hereby r-evereh ■ ingly-. It would be ridiculous, in the pi . when 264 DAVID CALDERWOOD. the conduct of this gallant admiral is so well un- derstood, and the greatness of his services so thoroughly appreciated, to allude to the injustice of such a sentence. It stands solitary and aloof, with the brand upon its forehead, and can only now con- demn none but its authors. In the defence of Sir Robert Calder, we perceive that he had made an indignant allusion to the mutilation and curtailment of his despatches. This serious charge unfortunately was too true, and the admiralty itself was guilty of the crime. In their published account, the following passage of Sir Robert was retained: — "The enemy are now in sight to windward; and when I have secured the captured ships, and put the squadron to rights, I shall endeavour to avail myself of any fur- ther opportunity that may offer to give you a further account of these combined squadrons." In con- sequence of this announcement, a meeting between the hostile fleets for the renewal of the contest was anticipated; and as the hours went onward, the public ear in London was on the alert for the firing of the Tower guns, to announce a glorious victory. But the following passage, which would have abated this ardour, was omitted: — "At the same time, it will behove me to be on my guard against the com- bined squadrons in Ferrol, as I am led to believe that they have sent off one or two of their crippled ships last night for that port; therefore, possibly I may find it necessary to make a junction with you immediately off Ushant with the whole squadron." Had the admiralty published this part of Sir Robert's despatch, as they ought to have done, the nation would have seen at once that it was impossible, with only fourteen ships ready for action, to encounter the opposite eighteen, should the latter be joined by the twenty line-of-battle ships whose arrival was hourly expected. But a sensation was to be pro- duced, and hope excited, and therefore the chilling paragraph was fraudulently withheld. And when no victory ensued, the perpetrators of this deed en- deavoured to conceal their blunder, and avert the public wrath, by a condemnation that ought to have fallen, not upon Calder, but upon themselves. Although the sentence of the court-martial was expected to soothe the popular disappointment, and for a short time succeeded, yet let no statesman ven- ture upon such experiments with the British public. John Bull is reckoned indeed the very type of gul- libility, and with good reason; but the honesty of heart in which this weakness originates is sure to recover the ascendancy, and examine the trial anew, in which case, the false witness and unrighteous judge have equally cause to tremble". Thus it was in the case of Sir Robert Calder. The public began to suspect that he had been unjustly dealt with, and further inquiry only strengthened the suspicion. The same feeling, although more tardily, at length ob- tained entrance into head-quarters; and in 1810 Mr. Yorke, then first lord of the admiralty, ventured to express his conviction that Sir Robert had deserved very different treatment. In parliament, also, the same sentiment was expressed by the Duke of Nor- folk and the Earl of Ronmey. The result of this return to a proper feeling, was the offer to Sir Robert, on the part of Mr. Yorke, of the important command of Plymouth, which the former accepted as a testimony of his acquittal and recognition of his public services and worth. After Sir Robert Calder had held the appointment for three years, he died at Holt, near Bishop's Waltham, in Hants, cm the 31st of August, 1818, in the 74th year of his age. CALDERWOOD, David, an eminent divine and ecclesiastical historian. The year of his birth, the place of his education, and the character of the family from which he was descended, are all alike unknown. The earliest ascertained fact of his life is his settlement, in 1604, as minister of Crailing, in Roxburghshire. Being a zealous supporter of the principles of presbytery, he set himself with all his might to oppose the designs of the court, which aimed at the introduction of a moderate episcopacy. In 1608, when the Bishop of Clasgow paid an official visit to the synod of Merse and Teviotdale, Mr. Calderwood gave in a paper declining his juris- diction. For this act of contumacy he was confined for several years to his parish, so as to prevent his taking any share in the public business of the church. In the summer of 161 7 King James paid a visit to Scotland, for the purpose of urging forward his episcopal innovations. On this occasion, while the parliament was considering how to intrust powers of ecclesiastical supremacy to the king, the clergy were convened to deliberate in a collusive manner, so that everything might appear to be done with the consent and approbation of the church. This assemblage was attended by the bishops, who affected to consider it an imitation of the convocations of the English Church. Calderwood, being now permitted to move about, though still forbidden to attend synods or presbyteries, appeared at this meeting, which he did not scruple to proclaim as in no respect a convocation, but simply a free assembly of the clergy. Finding himself opposed by some friends of the bishops, Mr. Calderwood took leave of them in a short but pithy speech, allusive to the sly attempts of the king to gain the clergy, by heightening their stipends: — "It was absurd," he said, "to see men sitting in silks and satins, crying poverty in the kirk, while purity was departing." He assisted, however, at another meeting of the clergy, where it was re- solved to deliver a protest to parliament against a particular article, or bill, by which the power of framing new laws for the church was to be intrusted to an ecclesiastical council appointed by the king. This protest was signed by Mr. Archibald Simpson, as representing all the rest, who, for his justification, furnished him with a roll containing their own signa- tures. One copy of the document was intrusted to a clergyman of the name of Hewat, who, having a seat in parliament, undertook to present it. Another re- mained with Mr. Simpson, in case of accident. Mr. Hewat's copy having been torn in a dispute with Archbishop Spottiswoode, Mr. Simpson presented his, and was soon after called before the tyrannical court of high commission, as a stirrer up of sedition. Being pressed to give up the roll containing the names of his abettors, lie acknowledged it was now in the hands of Mr. David Calderwood, who was then cited to exhibit the said roll, and, at the same time, to answer for his seditious and mutinous be- haviour. The commission court sat at St. Andrews, and the king having come there himself, had the curiosity to examine Mr. Calderwood in person. Some of the persons present came up to the peccant divine, and, in a friendly manner, counselled him to "come in the king's will," that his majesty might pardon him. But Mr. Calderwood entertained too strong a sense of the propriety and importance of what he had been doing, to yield up the point in this manner. "That which was clone," he said, "was clone with deliberation." In the conversation which ensued betwixt the king and him, the reader will be surprised to find many of the most interesting points of modern liberty asserted with a firmness and dignity worthy of an ancient Roman. King. What moved you to protest? DAVID CALDERWOOD. 2G5 Calderwood. An article concluded among the laws of the articles. King. But what fault was there in it? Calderwood. It cutteth otTour General Assemblies. King. (After inquiring how long Mr. Calderwood had been a minister.) Hear me, Mr. David, I have been an older keeper of General Assemblies than you. A General Assembly serveth to preserve doctrine in purity from error and heresy, the kirk from schism, to make confessions of faith, to put up petitions to the king in parliament. But as for matters of order, rites, and things indifferent in kirk policy, they may be concluded by the king, with advice of bishops and a choice number of ministers. Calderwood. Sir, a General Assembly should serve, and our General Assemblies have served these fifty-six years, not only for preserving doctrine from error and heresy, but also to make canons and con- stitutions of all rites and orders belonging to the kirk. As for the second point, as by a competent number of ministers may be meant a General Assembly, so also may be meant a fewer number of ministers than may make up a General Assembly. The king then challenged him for some words in the protestation. Caldenvood. Whatsoever was the phrase of speech, we meant nothing but to protest that we would give passive obedience to his majesty, but could not give active obedience to any unlawful thing which should llow from that article. King. Active and passive obedience ! Caldenvood. That is, we will rather suffer than practise. King. I will tell thee, man, what is obedience. The centurion, when he said to his servants, to this man, go, and he goeth; to that man, come, and he cometh: that is obedience. Caldenvood. To suffer, sir, is also obedience; howbeit, not of that same kind. And that obedi- ence, also, was not absolute, but limited, with exception of a countermand from a superior power. Secretary. Mr. David, let alone [cease]; confess your error. Caldenvood. My lord, I cannot see that I have committed any fault. King. Well, Mr. Calderwood, I will let you see that I am gracious and favourable. That meeting shall be condemned before ye be condemned; all that are in the file shall be filed before ye be filed, provided ye will conform. Caldenvood. Sir, I have answered my libel. I ought to be urged no further. King. It is true, man, ye have answered your libel; but consider I am here; I may demand of you when and what I will. Caldenvood. Surely, sir, I get great wrong, if I be compelled to answer here in judgment to any- more than my libel. King. Answer, sir! ye are a refractor: the Bishop of Glasgow, y.mr ordinary, and the Bishop of Caith- ness, the moderator of your presbytery, testify ye have kept no order; ye have repaired neither to presbyteries nor synods, and in no wise conform. Caldenvood. Sir, I have been confined these eight or nine years; so my conformity or noncon- formity, in that point, could not be well known. King. Good faith, thou art a very knave. See these self-same puritans; they are ever playing with equivocations. Finally, the king asked, '"If ye were relaxed, will ye obey or not ?' Caldenvood. Sir. I am wronged, in that I am forced to answer questions beside the libel; yet, seeing I must answer, I say, sir, I shall either obey you, or give a reason wherefore I disobey; and, if I disobey, your majesty knows I am to lie under the danger as I do now. King. That is, to obey either actively or passively. Caldenvood. I can go no further. He was then removed. Being afterwards called up, and threatened with deprivation, he declined the authority of the bishops to that effect; for which contumacy he was first imprisoned in Si. Andrews, and then banished from the kingdom. When we read such conversations as the above, we can scarcely wonder at the civil war which commenced twenty years afterwards, or that the efforts of the Stuarts to continue the ancient arbitrary government of England were finally ineffectual. Mr. Calderwood continued to reside in Holland from the year 1619 till after the death of King James, in 1625. Before leaving his country he published a book on the Perth assembly, for which he would certainly have been visited with some- severe punishment, if he had not been quick to con- vey himself beyond seas. In 1623 he published, in Holland, his celebrated treatise, entitled, Allare Dainascenian, the object of which was to expose the insidious means by which the polity of the English church had been intruded upon that of Scotland. King James is said to have been severely stung in conscience by this work. He was found very- pensive one day by an English prelate, and being asked why he was so, answered, that he had just read the Altar at Damascus. The bishop desired his majesty not to trouble himself about that book, for he and his brethren would answer it. "Answer that, man!" cried the king sharply; "how can ye? there is nothing in it but Scripture, reason, and the fathers." An attempt was made, however, to do something of this kind. A degraded Scottish gentle- man, named Scott, being anxious to ingratiate him- self at court, published a recantation as from the pen of Mr. Calderwood, who, he believed and alleged, was just dead. There was only one unfortunate circumstance against Mr. Scott. Mr. Calderwood soon let it be known that he was still alive, and of the same way of thinking as ever. The wretched im- postor L-- said to have then gone over t<> Holland and sought for Mr. Calderwood, in order to render his work true by assassinating him. But this red ink postscript was never added, for the divine hail just returned to his native country. Mr. Calderwood lived in a private manner at Edinburgh for many years, chiefly engaged., it i? supposed, in the unobtrusive task of compiling a history of the Church of Scotland, from the death of James V. to that of James VI. His material- for this work lay in Knox's History, Mr. James Melville's Observations, Mr. John Davidson'.- Diary, the acts of parliament and assembly, and other state documents. The work, in its original form, was lung deemed too large for publication, although manuscript copies were preserved in the archives of the church. ( : ..- -g w university, the Advocate-' Library, and the of the British Museum, London. At length, ever, the copy in the last-mentioned p'.ao published by the Wodrow Society in 1S4;. « m the breaking out of the trouble- in 163S. Mr. ( al ler- wood appeared on the public scene a- a warm promoter of all the popular mea.--.ires. Al : 1 Glasgow assembly in that year, audi on : occasions, his acquaintance with the ivo: :- oi the church proved of much service. He : 'W al-o re- sumed his duty as a ] arish m ni>ti r. _ • Pencaitland, "in Ea-t 1 othian. In 1 ' : appointed one of the committee for draw :::g up the directory for public wor.-hip, and in 1646 an a.b- 266 JOHN CALLANDER. stract of his church history was published under the care of the General Assembly. At length, in 1651, while Cromwell's army occupied the Lothians, Mr. Calderwood retired to Jedburgh, where, in the immediate neighbourhood of the scene of his earliest ministrations, he sickened and died at a good old age. CALLANDER, John, of Craigforth, an eminent antiquary, was born in the early part of the eighteenth century. He was the descendant of John Callander, his majesty's master-smith in Scotland, who seems to have been an industrious money-making person, and who, tradition says, acquired part of his fortune from a mistake on the part of government in paying in pounds sterling an account which had been stated in Scots money. The estate of Craigforth, which originally belonged to Lord Elphinstone, was in 1684 purchased by Mr. Alexander Iliggins, an advocate, who became embarrassed by the purchase, and conveyed his right to Callander, from whom he had obtained large advances of money. Erom that period the estate has remained in the possession of the family, not withstanding the strenuous exertions of Iliggins to regain it; and of this family the subject of the present memoir was the represen- tative. 1 Of his private history, very little has been collected; nor would it probably have much interest to our readers.'- The next work published by him was Terra Austral is Cognita, or Voyages to the Terra Australis, or Southern Hemisphere, during the 16th, 17th, and 1 8th centuries, Edinburgh, 1766; 3 vols. Svo, a work translated from the French of De Brasses. It was not till thirteen years afterwards that he gave to the world his Essay toimrds a Literal English Version 0/ the iVeio Testament in the Epistle to the Ephesians, printed in quarto at Glasgow, in 1 779. This very singular production proceeds upon the principle of adhering rigidly to the order of the Greek words, and abandoning entirely the English idiom. As a specimen of the translation, the 31st verse of chapter v. is here transcribed. "Because of this shall leave a man, the father of him, and the mother, and he shall be joined to the wife of him, and they shall be even the two into one flesh." The notes to the work are /';/ Greek, "a proof, certainly," as has been judiciously remarked, "of Mr. Callander's learning, but not of his wisdom" {Or tile's BibliotJieca Biblica, p. 74). After it followed the work by which Mr. Callander is best known: Two Ancient Scottish Poems: The Gaberlunzie Man, and Christ's Kirk on the Green, tuil/i notes and observations. Edin. 1782, Svo. It would seem that he had for some time meditated a dictionary of the Scottish language, of which he intended this as a specimen, but which he never prepared for publication. His principle, as an etymologist, which consists "in deriving the words of every language from the radical sounds of the lir^t or original tongue, as it was spoken by Noah and the builders of Babel," is generally considered fanciful, and several instances have been given by Chalmers and other-- of the absurdity of his derivations. In April, 1 78 1, Mr. Callander was, without any 1 Letters from Bishop Percy, C-e., to George /'a/on. Pre- face, p. viii. - Though a member of the Scottish bar, the early part of his life seems to have been devoted to classical pursuits, in which it is acknowledged he made great proficiency. A con- siderable porti in of the results of these studies was presented by him v< the Society of Scottish Antiquaries, in August, 1781. His MSS., which are entitled Spieilegia Antiquitatis Graetr, shoe ex Vctcribits 1'oetis Deperdita Fragmenta, are in five volumes, folio. The same researches were afterwards directed to the illustration of Milton's Paradise Lost, of which a specimen, containing his annotations on the first book, was printed at Glasgow, by Messrs. Koulis, iii 1750 4to, \>. 167,. Uf these notes an account will afterwards be given. solicitation on his part, elected a fellow of the Society of Scottish Antiquaries, which had been formed in the preceding November, by the late Earl of Buchan; and in the first list of office-bearers his name appears as secretary for foreign correspondence. Along with several other donations, he presented them, in August of the same year, with the Fragmenta already mentioned, and with the MS. notes on Paradise Lost, in nine folio volumes. For more than forty years these annotations remained unnoticed in the society's possession, but at length a paper, written, it is supposed, by the respectable biographer of the Admirable Crichton and Sir Thomas Craig, appeared in Blaclnvood's Magazine, in which Callander is charged with having, without acknowledgment, been indebted for a large proportion of his materials to the labours of Patrick Hume, a Scotsman who published a huge folio of 321 pages on the same subject, at London, in 1695. At the suggestion of Mr. David Laing, a committee was appointed in 1826 to examine the MSS., and present the result to the society. From the report 3 drawn up by Mr. Laing, it appears that, although there are some passages in which the analogy between Callander's remarks and those of Hume are so close that no doubt can be entertained of the one having availed himself of the notes of the other, yet that the proportion to the whole mass is so small, that it cannot be affirmed with truth the general plan or the largest portion of the materials of the work are derived from that source. On the other hand, it is candidly admitted that no acknowledgment of his obligations to his fellow-countrymen are made by Mr. Callander; but unfortunately a preface, in which such obligations are generally noticed, has never been written for, or, at all events, is not attached to, the work. Accord- ing to the testimony of Bishop Newton, the work by Hume contains "gold;" but it is concealed among "infinite heaps of rubbish:" to separate them was the design of the learned bishop, and our author seems to have acted precisely upon the same prin- ciple. Nor does he confine himself merely to the commentaries of Hume; he avails himself as often, and to as great an extent, of the notes of New tor. and of the other contemporary critics. Besides the works already mentioned, Mr. Callan- der seems to have projected several others. A specimen of a Bibliotheca Septentrionalis was printed in folio in 1778. Proposals for a History of the Ancient Music of Scotland, from the age of the venerable Ossian, to the beginning of the sixteenth century, in quarto, 1781; and a specimen of a Scoto-gothic glossary is mentioned in a letter to the Earl of buchan in 1781. lie also wrote " Vindiciu: Miltoniana; or a refuta- tion of the charges brought against Milton by [the infamous] William Lauder." The publication of this work was, however, rendered unnecessary from the appearance of the well-known vindication by Dr. Douglas, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury. This was, perhaps, fortunate for its author; not aware of Lauder's character, he had taken it for granted that all his quotations from Milton's works Mere correct, but he soon found that he had defended the poet where "he stood in no need of any apology to clear his fame." It is probably hardly worth mentioning, that he also projected an edition of Sir David Lindsay's Satyre, to be accompanied by a life of Lindsay from the pen of George baton, which he does not seem to have accomplished. "Mr. Callander, "says the editor of Paten's Letters* ;! See Trans, of the See. o/Seot. Antiq. vol. 3, part i. pp. 84-89. 1 Letters/rom Thomas Percy, D.D., afterwards Bishopof Dromore, John Callander, of Craigforth, Esq., David Herd, ami others, to George Paton. Edinburgh, ifajo, 121110, p. x. DONALD CAMERON. 2C7 "was, for many years, particularly distinguished for his companionable qualities. He had a taste for music, and was an excellent performer on the violin. Latterly he became very retired in his habits, saw little company, and his mind was deeply affected by a religious melancholy, which entirely unfitted him for society. He died at a good old age, upon the 14th September, 1 7S9. By his wife, who was of the family of Livingston of Westquarter, he had seven- teen children. His great-grandson is at present in possession of the estate." CAMERON, Donald, of Lochiel. This gallant Highland chief, who united such amiable manners and attractive accomplishments to the proverbial har- dihood and valour of his race, that his name has de- scended to us under the title of "the gentle Lochiel," occupies the most conspicuous place in the history of the unfortunate rebellion of 1745, and may be con- sidered as the fairest type of those chivalrous men by whom such a romantic lustre has been thrown over Jacobite loyalty and devotedness. He was grandson of that Sir Ewen Cameron, chief of Lochiel, of whom so many remarkable stories have been told, that he passes among Lowlanders as the Amadis de Gaul, or Guy of Warwick of the Highlands. Not the least remembered of these was his supreme contempt for Saxon effeminacy, so that, in a night bivouac among the snow, he kicked a snowball from under his son's head exclaiming, "What, are you become so luxurious that you cannot sleep without a pillow?" John Cameron of Lochiel, the father of Donald, for the share he had taken in the rebellion of 1715* was obliged to escape to France, and in consequence of his attainder, the subject of this notice succeeded to the estates of his ancestors, and chieftainship of the clan. On account of his father being still alive, he was commonly called by the Highlanders "Young Lochiel," although he was of mature age when he entered the held; but the precise year of his birth we are unable to discover. As the grandfather and father of Donald had been steadfast adherents to the cause of the Stuarts, and as the clan Cameron was both numerous and powerful, the Chevalier de St. George opened a correspondence with the present chief, and invested him with full powers to negotiate in Scotland for the restora- tion of the exiled dynasty. Such was the state of affairs when the young Pretender, accompanied by only seven attendants, landed upon the western coast, and sent tidings to all his adherents in the neighbour- hood of his arrival and its purposes. They were astounded at the intelligence. Had he come at the head of a strong reinforcement of foreign troops, and supplied with money for the expenses of a cam- paign, the whole Highlands might have been armed in his cause, and the result would scarcely have been doubtful; but, on the present occasion, the Highland chieftains well knew that the hope of overturning three kingdoms by their own resources was utter madness, and that the attempt would only precipitate themselves and their followers into certain destruc- tion. Hut now the prince was among them, and all but alone: ho had thrown himself upon their loyalty, and could they requite it with ingratitude? Such was the generous disinterested feeling with which the chiefs embarked in this desperate undertaking, and not from overweening confidence in their own valour, or hope of the rewards of conquest. They saw nothing before them but death on the field or the scaffold; and although their first success tended to remove these gloomy forebodings, they returned in full strength with the retreat from Derby, and were continued upon the field of Culloden. In all these fears Lochiel fully participated. As sopn, therefore, as he heard of the prince's arrival, he sent his brother, Dr. Archibald Cameron, to warn him of the consequences of the enterprise. This the Doctor did faithfully and earnestly; he even told the prince that his brother could not and would not join him under such circumstances. But he spoke to the son of a doomed race, whom no warnings could en- lighten. Still, however, Charles felt that without the co-operation of Lochiel it was Useless to advance, and he therefore sent Macdonald the younger, of Scothouse, requesting a personal interview with the Cameron at Borodale. Perhaps he was aware of the marvellous power that accompanies the petitions of a prince. The chief complied with an invitation which he could not well refuse, but he set out with a firm resolution to have nothing to do with the prince's undertaking. This he expressed to his brother, John Cameron of Fassefern, upon whom h : called on his way. As soon as Fassefern learned that Charles had arrived without money, arms, or troops, he approved of his brother's purpose not to join the expedition, and advised him to communicate this by letter; but when Lochiel persisted in continuing his journey to Borodale, as the best opportunity for justifying his refusal, Fassefern replied, "Brother, I know you better than you know yourself. If this prince once sets his eyes upon you, he will make you do whatever he pleases." In the interview that followed between the prince and his chivalrous adherent, this prediction was to' - well verified. The latter stated that, as his royal highness had come without the promised supplies in men and money, the Highland chiefs were released from their engagements; and he advised Charles to return to France, and await a more favourable oppor- tunity. To this the prince replied that no such opportunity as the present might again occur — that most of the British troops were abroad, and the few newly-raised regiments at home would be unable to withstand the army of Highlanders that could be brought into the field, and that a few advantages at the outset would insure him effectual assistanci at home and from abroad. L'npersuaded by these arguments, which were more showy than solid, Lochiel advised a middle course: this was, that the prince should dismiss his attendants and his ship, the Dontelle, back to France, so that it might be thought that himself had returned with them, and that, in the meantime, his highness might remain concealed \\\ the Highlands until the court of France could send over an armament to their aid. This, however. Charles rejected, declaring that the court of France would never believe he had a party in Scotland until an insurrection had actually commenced. Thus driven from every point of dissuasion. Lochiel had recourse to his last inducement, by entreating that his highness would remain at borodale until the Highland chiefs could be assembled, when they might deliberate in concert what was best I done; but this prudent proposal Charles also r< : "In a few days." he exclaimed, "and with the few friends that I have, I will erect the roy: I and proclaim to the people of Britain that < Stuart is come over to claim the crown of hi- . tors —to win it, or to perish in the attenq :: I ■ whom my father has often told me wa- friend, may stay at home, and fr m t - 1 learn the fate of his prince." Thi> t.-v.nt. touched so keenly the honour of the h:g! -1 chief, decided him at once, and he cr i. '"No! I !1 [ share the fate of my prii shall every man over whom nature or I '• me a; y ; power!" In this w '" ;•'._! .h.c! wa> vei- 268 DONALD CAMERON. thrown and taken captive by what many will reckon a mere punctilio. In his case, too, it was the more to be regretted, as not only his own fate and that of his clan was at stake, but the introduction of a civil war, which, but for his example, would either not have happened, or have begun and terminated in a petty skirmish. Having gained over a chief so influential, the Pre- tender thought that he might proceed at once toaction, and accordingly he announced his purpose to raise the royal standard on the 19th of August at Glen- finnan, where all his Highland adherents were warned to be in readiness. In the meantime Lochiel went home to muster his clan for the gathering. When the period arrived, Charles, who had now been three weeks in the Highlands without the secret being di- vulged, embarked from Kinlochmoidart, with twenty- five attendants in three boats, and reached Glen- finnan on the morning of the rendezvous. And dreary was the prospect that welcomed him to his expected kingdom, for he found himself in a dark narrow glen, bounded on both sides by high rocky mountains; and instead of the gallant muster of impa- tient clans by whom he hoped his coming would be greeted, there were no persons but the inhabitants of the few wretched hovels sprinkled at wide intervals along the glen, who stood at their doors, or among the distant precipices, to gaze at the arrival of the strangers. Dispirited at this appearance of remiss- ness on the part of his friends, Charles retired to one of these hovels, where, after two anxious hours of suspense, his ears were gladdened by the sound of a distant bagpipe. It was the clan Cameron hasten- ing to the trysting-place, with Lochiel at their head. They were from 700 to 800 strong, while in point of arms, discipline, and equipments, they formed the elite of that rebel army by which such singular suc- cesses were obtained both in Scotland and England. The Camerons also did not come to the meeting empty-handed, for they brought with them, as prisoners, a party of the royalist soldiers who had been surprised in the neighbourhood of Loch Lochie. On the arrival of Lochiel and his followers, Charles, without waiting for the rest of the clans, proclaimed war in due form against the "Elector of Hanover," raised his silk banner of white, blue, and red, and proclaimed his father sovereign of the British em- pire. After this ceremony new volunteers arrived, by which the prince soon found himself at the head of 1200 men. With such an army, where nearly one half were very imperfectly armed, and with only one guinea in his pocket when he reached the fair city of Perth, the young Chevalier commenced his daring march for the overthrow of three kingdoms. It has often been reckoned one of the maddest freaks in military history; but how would it have been characterized had it succeeded, which it almost did? The wonderful successes of Montrose, with means as inadequate, were not yet forgotten in the Highlands. The rest of the career of Lochiel is so closely con- nected with the events of the campaign of 1745, that a full detail of them would necessarily include a narrative of the whole rebellion. We can, therefore, only specify a few particulars. The town of Perth, which fell into the hands of the insurgents after they commenced their descent into the Lowlands, was taken by a party of the Camerons. On crossing the Forth the great difficulty was to restrain the High- landers from plundering, as they committed much havoc among the sheep, which they hunted and shot as if they had been hares, and cooked in their own rude fashion. A summary act of justice executed by Lochiel upon one of these marauders is thus described by Dugald Graham, the Homer of this eventful rebellion:— " This did enrage the Camerons' chief, To see his men so play the thief; And finding one into the act, He fired, and shot him through the back; Then to the rest himself addressed: — ' This is your lot, I do protest, Who'er amongst you wrongs a man; Pay what you get, I tell you plain; For yet we know not friend or foe, Nor how all things may chance to go.'" It was a just and humane order, enforced by politic considerations, and as such it must have greatly aided in procuring for the wild miscellaneous army that character for forbearance by which it was after- wards distinguished. On reaching Edinburgh, which had closed its gates and refused to surrender, Charles, with the army of Sir John Cope at his heels, was anxious to place his wild followers within the walls of the ancient capital, but without the bloodshed and odium of a storm. This resolution, which was so congenial to the character of Lochiel, the gallant chief undertook to execute; and with a select de- tachment of 90c men he marched by night to the city gates, which, however, were too jealously watched to give him access. While he waited for an oppor- tunity, a hackney coach, filled with deputies, that had been sent from the town-council to the prince's head-qaurters, and were returning home by the Canongate, suddenly appeared. As soon as the gate opened to admit them, a party of Highlanders rushed in, disarmed the guards in a twinkling, and cleared the way for their fellows. In this way Edinburgh was captured without shedding a drop of blood, or even making so much noise as to disturb the sleep of its inhabitants. Lochiel again appears on the very foreground of Prestonpans, the victory of which was chiefly attributed to his clan, by whom the dra- goons were routed, and the royalist foot left wholly uncovered. In charging cavalry, which was a new event in Highland warfare, he ordered his men to rush forward boldly and strike at the noses of the horses with their broadswords, without caring about the riders; and the consequence was, that these formidable-looking cavaliers were chased off the field by a single onset. In the unsuccessful expedition into England which followed this victory, the Camerons were always found at their post, while the conduct of their chief was distinguished throughout the advance and retreat by the same combination of prudence, courage, and clemency. Strangely enough, however, it happened that he, the "gentle Lochiel," was, on one occasion, mistaken for a cannibal or an ogre. In England fearful tales had been reported of the Highlanders, and among others, that they had claws instead of hands, and fed upon human flesh. On that account, one evening, when lie entered the lodging that had. been assigned to him, the poor landlady threw herself at his feet, and besought him, with uplifted hands and weeping eyes, to take her life, but spare her two children. Astonished at this, he asked her what she meant, when she told him everybody had said that the Highlanders ate children as their common food. A few kind words sufficed to disabuse her; and opening the door of a press, she cried with a voice of joy, "Come out, children, the gentleman won't eat you," upon which the two little prisoners emerged from their concealment and fell at his feet. At the winding up of this wild tragedy on Cullodcn Moor, Lochiel had his full share of disappointment and disaster. He was one of the advocates of a night surprise of the English army, and when the unsuc- cessful attempt was made, he was one of its principal DONALD CAMERON SIR EWEN CAMERON. 269 leaders. In the battle that followed next day the Camerons were described by eye-witnesses as ad- vancing to the charge "with their bonnets pulled tightly over their brows, their bodies half-bent, their shields raised so as to cover the head and vital parts, and their broadswords quivering in their nervous gripe: they sprung forward upon their foes like crouching tigers, their eyes gleaming with an expres- sion fierce and terrific to the last degree." The whole front rank fell; and, in spite of their devoted efforts to protect their chief, Lochiel himself received several severe wounds in the legs, and was carried off the field. Such was the termination which his own prudence had apprehended from the beginning, without needing the predictions of "the death-boding seer," but to which he had committed himself from a mistaken sense of honour. After this defeat, by which all the adherents of the Pretender were scattered and hunted upon their native mountains, Lochiel, having skulked for two months in his own district, at last withdrew to the borders of Rannoch, where he took up his abode in a miserable hovel on the side of the mountain Benalder, to be cured of his wounds. Here, on the morning of the 30th of August, 1746, he and his few attendants were startled by the unwelcome apparition of a party of men advancing to the dwelling: and thinking that they were enemies from the camp a few miles distant, who had tracked them to their hiding-place, they prepared to receive them with a volley of musketry. Their weapons were pointed for the occasion, and in another instant would have given fire, when Lochiel suddenly stopped them : he discovered that the strangers were no other than the prince himself, I )r. Cameron his brother, and a few guides, who had heard in their wanderings of his whereabouts, and were coming to visit him! One moment more and Charles might have lain stretched on the heath by the hand of the best and most devoted of his followers. On discovering who his visitor was, the chief, who was lamed in the ancles from his wounds, limped out to welcome him, and would have knelt upon the ground, when Charles prevented him with, "No, my dear Lochiel; we do not know who may be looking from the top of yonder hills, and if they see any such motions, they will immediately conclude that I am here." Seldom have prince and subject met under such circumstances of adversity. As the royal wanderer had long been a stranger to a com- fortable meal, some minced collops were fried for him with butter in a large saucepan, to which the luxury of a silver spoon was added; and poor Charles, after partaking very heartily of these savoury viands, could not help exclaiming, "Now, gentlemen, I live like a prince!" Turning to Lochiel, he asked, "Have you always fared so well during your re- treat?" "Yes, sir," replied the chief, "for nearly three months past I have been hereabout with my cousin Cluiiv; he has provided for me so well, that I have had plenty of such as you see, and I thank heaven your royal highness has got through so many dangers to take a part." Soon after this meeting, two vessels of war, de- spatched by the French government, arrived, and in these Charles and about 100 of his adherent-, of whom Lochiel was one, embarked at Loch- nanuagh, on the 20th of September. Soon after his arrival in France, Lochiel received the command of a regiment in the French service, to which the young Chevalier wished a title of British nobility to be added; but this the prince's father refused, observing very justly, that it would create envy in the other Highland chiefs, who might expect a similar distinction; and that Lochiel's interest anal reputation in his own country, and his being at the head of a regiment in France, would give him more consideration there than any empty title he could bestow. By this time, however, the mere question of a coronet was of little importance to the brave and good Lochiel, fir he died in his place of exile in 1748. At his death he left two sons, of whom John, the eldest, succeeded to his father's regiment, but died in early life. Charles, the younger, who succeeded to the family claims of his brother, ob- tained leases from the British crown of parts of the family estate upon very easy terms, and received a commission in the 71st Highlanders, to which regiment he added a company of clansmen of his own raising. On the regiment being ordered for foreign service, his Camerons refused to embark without him, upon which, though he was danger- ously ill in London, he hurried down to Glasgow to appease them, but found that this had been successfully done by Colonel Eraser of Lovat, the commander of the regiment. This violent exertion, however, was too much for his exhausted strength, so that he died soon afterwards. Nothing, it is said, could exceed the enthusiasm with which the arrival of Charles Cameron was welcomed by the citizens of Glasgow, for it was their conviction that his father had prevented their city from being plun- dered by the rebel army in 1745. Another member of the Lochiel family still re- mains to be mentioned; this was Dr. Archibald Cameron, whose name has already occurred more than once in the course of this notice. After hav- ing endured his share of the hardships which befell the rebel army, and aided the prince in his wander- ings among the Highlands, he was one of those who embarked at Lochnanuagh, and reached France in safety. Some doubtful causes, however, not suffi- ciently explained, but which seem to have been altogether unconnected with politics, induced him to return to Scotland privately in 1 749, and sub- sequently in 1753; but at his last visit he was ap- prehended, tried at London, and sentenced to be hanged at Tyburn, as one of the attainted personswho had been "out" in 1745. He was the last victim of the fears or the vengeance of government; and many even of its best friends thought that alter so long an interval, and on account of his well-known amiable character, his life ought to have been spared. CAMERON, Sir Ewen, of Lochiel. This fierce and gallant warrior, the grandfather of the "gentle Lochiel,"' in whom the character of a Highland chief of the seventeenth century was imperson- ated, was born at Castle Culchorn, a seat of the Earl of Breadalbane, in February, 1629. After the fashion of the Highlanders, who were wont so to distinguish the members of the same clan and name, he was called Ewen Dim. from his dark complexion. When about the age of twelve, the education ot the young chief was undertaken by the Marquis of Argyle. in whose hands he was a hostage for the pea behaviour of the Camerons; but S;r Ewen showe 1 more inclination for hunting, shooting, fencing, a: I such exercise-, than for books or the society learned men. At the age of fourteen he wa- by the marquis to F.ngland, to be entered as a student at ( >xford; but !:;- 1 T 1-1 ip s n for.; difficulty of managing such a wai 1. Stirling on their journey, the; . the coer- cion of a c 'a . away :Y m hi- travelled a whoa' '■ iy thr neighbourhood, a' tilence w a- at that time in Stirling. ; t ir.feci: us an : destructive character. At Berwick, wi t: SIR EWEN CAMERON. a long stay, he entered into so many quarrels with the young gentlemen of the town, upon questions connected with the honour of his country, as to en- danger his being knocked on the head; so that the marquis would not allow him to stir out of doors without two or three of his armed servants as a guard. The invasion of the Marquis of Montrose into Scotland, and the events preceding the battle of Philiphaugh, prevented the buoyant Highlander from prosecuting his journey and astonishing the peaceful students of Oxford; and having visited Sir Robert Spotiswood in prison after the defeat of Montrose, he was by that able and wily politician estranged from Argyle and his party and converted into a royalist. When the young chief of the Camerons had reached the age of eighteen, he was set free from the guardian- ship of Argyle, and sent back to his own people. From want of other active occupation, he com- menced a regular warfare against the wild beasts of the district, and made fearful destruction of the wolves and foxes, the last wolf seen in the Highlands having been slain with his own hand. The prospect of higher game, to which this was only preparatory, soon offered itself, by the refusal of Macdonald of Keppoch, chief of a tribe of the Macdonalds, to pay the annuity of a mortgage held by the chief of the Camerons upon an estate belonging to the former. To enforce payment, Lochiel came down into the territories of his creditor at the head of some hun- dreds of armed Camerons, and Keppoch was fain to listen to reason. Another similar quarrel occurred with Macdonald of Glengarry, who refused to pay some arrears of feu-duty which he owed to the chief of the Camerons, as lord-paramount of the territory of Knoidart, which the other occupied. Lochiel in this case used the same figure of persuasion, and with the same result. The attempt of the Earl of Glencairn, after the defeat of Charles II. at Worces- ter, to revive his majesty's cause in the Highlands was more attractive, however, to Lochiel than such petty feuds about money with his brother chiefs; and when the earl raised the royal standard in 1652, he joined him at the head of 700 of his clansmen. In this campaign, the courage of the young Lochiel, daring even to the extreme of rashness, was so much in character with the enterprise as to attract general notice. After behaving with remarkable gallantry in the engagement in which Glencairn was defeated, Lochiel, who had been successful against the English soldiers in several important skirmishes, withdrew his clan in safety to Lochaber. Instead of warring fur the restoration of the king, he was now reduced to t!u necessity of acting upon the defensive, as General Monk, after reducing the Lowlands, was resolved to complete the conquest of the whole of Scotland by also reducing the Highlands to obedience. This resolution of the English commonwealth was followed up with a military skill and also with a promptitude which the Highlanders had never wit- nessed in former invasions of their mountain terri- tories; and either dismayed by the unexpected ad- vance of Monk, or allured by the advantages they might derive from supporting the stronger cause, they tither remained inactive or favoured the invaders. A detachment from the English army had advanced as far as Aberchalder, where b'ort Augustus now stands, and Lochiel, who had mustered his followers for resistance, depended upon the co-operation of Keppoch and Glengarry, who had leagued with him against the common enemy. Hut these chiefs at such a crisis were more mindful of their former feud with Lochiel, than the safety or honour of their country, and neither of them would give him aid. Thus left to his own resources, he was obliged to change the plan of combined warfare into a guerilla resistance, for which the country was well adapted. Annoyed by such an enemy, Monk endeavoured to disarm him by tempting promises. He offered to bestow upon him two large estates, to pay all his debts, and invest him with what rank in the army- he pleased; but finding the gallant young chief in- accessible to such bribes, the English general re- turned to his previous design of establishing such a strong garrison at Inverlochy, as would either reduce the Highlands to his mercy, or compel Lochiel to retire and confine himself to his own district. Two thousand of his most effective troops were accord- ingly conveyed thither by sea, with workmen and everything necessary for the erection of a fort and suitable defences. The establishment of this formidable bridle of the Highlands was now the chief eyesore of the patriotic Lochiel; upon it his whole attention was concentrated, and to prevent or retard its completion became the chief object of his daring spirit of enterprise. While- he hovered in the neighbourhood upon the watch, he learned that 300 men of the garrison, accompanied by some workmen, were to be sent across the loch, to bring in provisions, and cut down trees for timber in building; and although he had not more than thirty-eight men at hand, having dismissed the rest on various commissions, he resolved with his small handful to attack the party. The arrangements of the enemy favoured his design, for, dividing them- selves, they sailed in two vessels to opposite sides of the loch, so that the vessel which landed on the side nearest to the Camerons had only 150 soldiers on board. Even yet, however, so great was the disparity in point of numbers, that some of the Camerons who had served with Montrose declared that the great marquis himself had never ventured such an attempt. Lochiel, however, persisted in his purpose of attack, and as the clansmen were chiefly apprehensive that in such an enterprise their chief would perish along with them, he tied his younger brother Allan to a tree. to reserve him as the future head of the Camerons: and being unable to spare a man for the purpose. he appointed a little boy to attend him. After these preparations and precautions, the chief marched half a mile westward to the village of Aehadalew, which the English soldiers were at that moment in the act of pillaging, and judging this a favourable oppor- tunity, lie gave the signal of onset. A strange con- flict immediately followed between the Highlanders, half of whom were only armed with bows and arrows, and the English, who were fully equipped and brave soldiers; 1ml the latter, besides the unex- pectedness of the attack, were confounded at the peculiar mode of a Highland assault, against which their discipline was rather a hindrance than a help. In the heat of the struggle Lochiel himself was in danger of being shot by an English musketeer, who had concealed himself behind a bush; but at this critical moment his brother Allan appeared, and shot the Englishman while the latter was about to pull the trigger. This arrival of Allan was owing to his impatience for the fight, in consequence of which he had prevailed upon the boy who waited on him to loose the cords with which he was tied to the live, after which, although but a mere stripling. he plunged into the thickest of the conflict. Gal- lantly although the Highlanders contended with such odds, they were met with equal bravery, and it seemed as if discipline would at last prevail, fur no- thing disheartened them more than to see witli what facility these Saxon enemies rallied when broken, and tlie courage with which they renewed the combat SIR EWEN CAMERON. 271 instead of running away. But the nimbleness and ferocity of the Celts, and the advantage their strange mode of attack gave them, were finally successful; and the English, reduced to thirty-five men, fled in confusion to their ship, where they surrendered on the offer of quarter. Only four of the Camerons were lost in the action, and a fifth, who was Lochiel's foster-brother, who on observing an English officer taking aim at his chief started forward, received the shot in his own bosom, and fell dead at the feet of his master. But such devotedness was so common among the Highlanders, that a different conduct would have formed a subject for their astonishment. With Highland devotedness we may also quote an instance of Highland simplicity. They had heard, and they believed, that the English had certain caudal appendages projecting from the quarter whence tails usually grow; and to find these they searched the dead bodies of the English with a solicitude worthy of the philosophic Lord Monboddo. But of all the events of this remarkable skirmish, none was to be compared to a combat which took place between Lochiel and one of the enemy. He- had given chase to a party along a by-way that led to a wood, and struck down two or three of the fugi- tives, when he was suddenly confronted by the officer of the party from behind a bush, where he had con- cealed himself. They were both alone, and between them a deadly conflict at once commenced. The combat was desperate, as each fought for life; and the advantages on both sides were so equal, that it was both long and doubtful. The English officer was superior both in strength and stature, but Lochiel excelled him in activity, so that at last, by a sudden stroke, he sent the sword out of the other's hand. On this the Englishman closed with his opponent, bore him to the ground, and fell with him, but uppermost; and in the close death-struggle they lay, until they both rolled into the channel of a dry brook, where Lochiel was almost helpless from the weight of the other, and the sharp stones upon which he had fallen. At last the Englishman got his right hand free, and drew his dagger; but just when he had raised his head in the act of dealing a fatal stab, Lochiel darted at the extended throat with his teeth, and bit with such bull-dog ferocity, as to tear away a whole mouthful of the officer's throat. This he afterwards declared was the sweetest bite that ever he had in his lifetime. It is needless, perhaps, to add that such a wound brought the combat to a close. This terrible duel Sir \Y alter Scott has copied in describing that between Roderick Dhu and Fitz- James. G reat was now the renown of ' 'the Cameron, " who was extolled as the first of living heroes; and as his biographer expresses it, "his presence of mind in delivering himself from his terrible English an- tagonist, who had so much the advantage of him in everything but vigour and courage, by biting out his throat, was in every person's mouth." The gar- rison, when they saw the wounds of their dead com- panions, whose limbs were lopped off, and even their bodies almost cleft in twain, trembled at these evidences of the might of the mountain arm, and wondered what kind of mortals these Highlanders were who could deal such dreadful strokes. In other skirmishes that followed Lochiel was so successful that his name became a word of terror to the garrison, so that they were cautious of venturing beyond the shelter of their walls. But the royalist cause, of which he was one of the most distinguished adher- ents, was weary of the struggle, and General Middle- ton, who had succeeded the Earl of Glencairn as its representative in Scotland, made submission to the existing government. Lochiel, thus finding himself unsupported, and aware that he could no longer sup- port such a conflict, in which the resources of the three kingdoms would be arrayed against him, resolved to obtain an honourable peace. To accomplish this he judged it best not to offer himself empty-handed, and he accordingly surprised three English colonels at an inn where they happened to reside, made them prisoners, and carried them off to a little island which his biographer calls Locharkike, almost ten miles north of the garrison, and situated in a fresh-water loch twelve miles in length, and covered with woods on both sides. Deep were the apprehensions of these colonels on account of the savages into whose hands they had fallen, and the ogre who commanded them — for, except to those who had visited the country in person, the Highlands was still a terra incognita both to Englishman and Lowlander. But the kind and simple manners of the primitive natives, and the courteous polished behaviour of Lochiel, agreeably undeceived them, so that at last they were anxious to bring such a landlord into good terms with the government. This was what the Highland chief desired, and accordingly Colonel Campbell, one of his hostages, and himself a Highlander, was sent to General Monk with overtures on the part of Lochiel. which were readily accepted. The past was to be buried in oblivion; no oaths or assurances beyond their word of honour was to be required from the Camerons for their future allegiance; and they were allowed to wear their arms as formerly, as far as was consistent with a peaceful behaviour. On these articles being confirmed, the cordiality with which the garrison and the clan, lately so irreconcilable, met for the first time, was truly marvellous. The clan Cameron, their chief, and its cihuine-wassails. attired in their best, and armed as if going to battle, marched to Inverlochy with pipes playing and colours displayed, and formed in two lines opposite the troops of the garrison, who were drawn up to welcome them -. the articles of agreement were read with huzzas from both parties, and while the clan were treated with a plentiful dinner on the green, as they stood in their ranks, Lochiel and the gentlemen of his people were regaled at a banquet by the governor. After this peaceful settlement of his affairs, Lochiel, who had been several years in love with a lady whom his active and precarious life prevented from marrying, was now united to her in wedlock in 1657, and the happy event was solemnized by such a wedding as was long after remembered for its magnificence. On his re- turn to Lochaber with his bride, and while all was happiness around him, an impoverished bard, whose three cows had been taken from him in the late wars. used the favourable moment for entreating restitution. This he did in a way most gratifying to High- landers, for it was in sounding Gaelic verse, in which the chief, the principal Camerons, and the whole clan were successively eulogized in the most flattt ing style of hyperbole. A translation is given of i; in the Memoirs of Sir Ere en Cameron, both in and verse, from the latter of which we venture to select the following specimen: — ' Immorta 1 chief! with earl Thvc-n iuct gui les. thy Matclile. s the _". us, the* 1: Pointed he sh if s. the so Preadfu the s\v. r !-. and < If our w ell-bodied., fierce liands, \ -hose re -i>tlt>> f Greedy ( ter, and Hence \ ■ i:r here e Comer As ::;.!-:• rs rule. ir.d 1 r 1 Kv'n 1 f - er ::-.-._'.; Happv -. lieu £U \nc h' - . \vh. -e In anus . SIR EWEX CAMERON. After having prepared the way by these and other such encomiums, the poet indicates the wrong he had suffered, and craves redress in the following modest language: — "if, or your judgment does approve my song, Or, if my sufferings claim redress of wrong — Three cows well fed (nor more, alas! had I, With drink and food sustain'd my poverty; These 1 demand, oh! they the victims are Of lawless ravage and destructive war." But enough of this. It is more gratifying to state that Lochiel and the company present not only gratified the bard by giving him back his three cows, but also a gratuity of 300 merks in money, to encourage his poetical vein. During the rest of the protectorate of Oliver Cromwell, the chief of the Camerons submitted to a rule which it was useless to resist; but when General Monk undertook his memorable march from Scotland to London for the restoration of Charles II., he was accompanied, among other ad- herents of the king, by Lochiel. lie was present also when Charles entered London. But although he was received with flattering distinction at court, and afterwards knighted by the Duke of York at Edinburgh, this was the only requital he received for his services; while, on the other hand, he sus- tained great annoyance as well as considerable loss both in estates and money, chiefly through the ex- tortions of Lauderdale, to whom the government of Scotland was committed. At last Lauderdale issued a commission of fire and sword against him, and intrusted its execution to several of the most powerful nobles both of the Highlands and Low- lands, who however were not anxious to carry it into effect. No one except the chief of the Macintoshes, who was a feudal enemy of Sir Ewen Cameron, readily undertook it; but as he endeavoured to accomplish it in the genuine Highland fashion, with a powerful array at his back, his adversary, who was skilled in such modes of controversy, confronted him in the same manner, and baffled his attempts. When this quarrel was composed, the Earl of Argyle, who at first had been on the side of Sir Ewen's enemies, invited the latter to spend a few days with him at Inverary, an invitation with which the other so readily complied, that he did not wait to denude himself of a beard of some days' growth. The earl offered him the services of his own valet-de-chambre, which were accepted, and the process of lathering and shaving went on in the room where they had been conversing. The earl's eye however was caught by sight of two grim Camerons, attendants of Lochiel, who stood with their backs planted against the door of the room, to hinder any one from entering, while their gaze was fixed, the one on the earl, and the other on the valet. He mentioned this circumstance to Lochiel, who protested his entire ignorance of the matter, and desired the earl to question the fellows himself. On this being done, one of these life-guards replied that, knowing the late feud of the earl against their master, they were apprehensive that he was not merely to be shaved but murdered, and that therefore they were resolved, if their suspicion proved true, first to despatch his lordship, and afterwards his servant. "Hut." said his lordship, "what do you think would have become of) ourselves had you done such a thing?" "That we did not think upon," replied the Highlander boldly, "we were only resolved to revenge the murder of our chief The rest of the reign of Charles II. was spent by Lochiel in political controversies and legal bicker- ings for the preservation of his estate— a species of warfare with which he was unacquainted, and in which he was certain to be worsted. As a devoted adherent of the house of Stuart, he was in arms to resist the invasion of the Earl of Argyle; and after the abdication of James VII., and from the same principle of loyalty, he joined Dundee, whose followers were powerfully reinforced by the clan Cameron. Erom his intimate knowledge of the Highlanders, and the best mode of employing their services in war, his' advice was of important use to the expedition, and when those delays were pro- posed that would have been fit only for hired or trained soldiers, he urged the necessity of action, and the advantage of being the assailants. "He [Dundee] advised with Lochiel," says the biographer of the latter, "on every occasion, and always fol- lowed his opinion; and so much did he confide in his sufficiency that he often declared that he was the fittest person in the kingdom to command that army. They both loved fighting and adventurous actions, and were never known to differ in any one point; and Dundee said often that he could never have managed an army so different in costumes, humour, and discipline from those with whom he was bred, if it had not been for the lessons he daily had from him." The events of the battle of Killiecrankie are too well known to require repetition; it is enough to state that at the head of his clan Lochiel, though now an elderly man of threescore and three years, showed all the activity and all the intrepid courage of his youth, while his matured experience and the wisdom of his suggestions contributed materially to the victory. During the battle, the chief was closely attended by the son of his foster-brother, who waited at his side like a shadow; but soon after, on looking round, Lochiel missed his faithful follower. He perceived him however at a short distance in the agonies of death, and with his breast transfixed with an arrow. He told his sorrowing master, that, observing a Highlander in General Mackay's army taking aim at him with drawn bow, in the rear of the enemy, he had sprung forward, and received the shaft in his own bosom, to save the life of his chief. It was the same touching devoted- ness that had been exhibited by the father of this faithful follower at the desperate skirmish of Acha- dalew. Although the battle of Killiecrankie was so decided a victory to the Jacobites, it was more thai; counterbalanced by the death of their leader, Viscount Dundee, and the imbecility of his successor, General Cannon. After the battle Sir Ewen Cameron re- tired to Lochaber, leaving his men under the com- mand of his eldest son. The resistance of the High- landers had been maintained upon the understanding that an army from France was to be sent to their aid, with the ex-king James at its head; but as these promises had not been fulfilled, the Highland chiefs were assembled to decide whether they should con- tinue the war by their own resources, or offer their submission to King William upon favourable terms. The greater part inclined to the latter alternative, while several of tiie bolder and more chivalrous spirits advocated a continued resistance. Among these, the most distinguished was Sir Ewen, and his arguments showed the principles in which the mar- vellous strength of Highland Jacobitism was chiefly founded. lie declared that, whatever might be the sentiments of men who were actuated by no other principle but that of interest, he was certain that it was his duty, as a subject who had sworn allegiance to King James, to serve and obey him as long as lie was able. As James was the lawful successor of the most ancient and illustrious race of monarchs in the world, so he [Sir Ewen] could not transfer his alle- SIR EWEN CAMERON — JOHN CAMERON. 273 giancc without a direct violation of the laws of God and man. Though a successful rebellion might change the names of things, yet it could never alter the nature of truth and justice, nor transform a violent intrusion to that of a lawful possession; and that, for his part, he was resolved that the dictates of his conscience should be the ride of his actions; and that even though the case were doubt- ful, yet, as a Highland chief, he thought himself bound to King James by the strongest ties of grati- tude. After these considerations, which had their force with men like-minded with himself, Sir Ewen adverted to the golden promises held out by James to encourage the Highland resistance to the last — promises, however, which the fickle and deceitful ex- king was not likely to implement in the event of his restoration. "You all know," said Lochiel, "what that prince has done — or at least was resolved to do — if ever it pleased God to restore him to the throne of his ancestors. Nor are the last expressions of his royal goodness ever to be forgot, which he has been graciously pleased to transmit to us by the Earl of Seaforth. Our countrymen are the only persons he is to trust with the military part of the government of this kingdom; we are to have his pay as soldiers, with an indulgence either to live at home with our commands, or where it shall be most agree- able; and if any of us have capacities for offices in the civil government, we have his royal promise for it that we shall be preferred, according to our merits, to posts of honour and profit. Our children are to be educated under the royal eye; our country to be enriched, and our families aggrandized; so that, though our duty did not oblige us, the natural ties of gratitude and generosity ought to prevail over all other considerations, to make us endeavour in some measure to requite his royal favours." After these considerations, which were designed for the selfish and calculating of the party, the disinterested ancient chief ended his speech with the following character- istic declaration: "For my own part, gentlemen, I am resolved to be in my duty while I am able; and though I am now an old man, weakened by fatigue, and worn out by continual trouble, yet I am deter- mined to spend the remainder of my life after my old manner, among mountains and caves, rather than give up my conscience and honour by a sub- mission, let the terms be never so inviting, until I have my master's permission to do it; and no argu- ment, or view of interest or safety, shall prevail with me to change this resolution, whatever may be the event." This address prevailed, and the voice of the as- sembled chiefs was still for war. They unanimously agreed to remain in arms, and open a fresh cam- paign by a series of skirmishes until they were fully prepared for general action. But their generals, Cannon and Buchan, were sufficient to mar any enterprise. The preliminary skirmishes were ill concerted, and ended in failure; and before these events could ripen into serious overt acts, by which the Highland chiefs would have been committed, the utter defeat of James at the battle of the Boyne set the question, for the present at least, at rest. There was no further hope of the presence of James among them, or of reinforcements from France or Ireland; and as the government of William still kept the door open for reconciliation, the Highland chiefs resolved to embrace the opportunity, and submit on honourable terms. This, however, they would not do without the express permission of King James, and having obtained it. the terms of their surrender were readily accepted by the govern- ment. But it was with reluctance that Lochiel took VOL. I. the benefit of the indemnity, and only accepted it when further resistance would have been worse than useless. His public career had now ended, and he disappeared from the page of history. His last peaceful years were spent among his clan, and he died in 1719, at the age of ninety. It is said that, notwithstanding all his desperate conflicts and hair- breadth escapes, he never received a wound, or lost a drop of blood. He was thrice married, and had four sons and eleven daughters. In his grandson, the "gentle Lochiel," we recognize the same gal- lantry, integrity, and loyalty as those which ani- mated the heart of Sir Ewen, but softened and re- fined by those graces of education which Sir Ewen had not the means of acquiring. CAMERON, John. Thiswas one of those learned theologians, the natural offspring of the Reformation, of whom the latter part of the sixteenth century, and earlier of the seventeenth, were so prolific. He was born at Glasgow about the year 1579, of respect able- parents, but of whose position in life no statement has been given. He received his education at the schools, and finally at the university of his native city, at the latter of which he regented, and taught the Greek language. But being seized with the common desire of the Scottish students of that period to visit foreign parts, either to mature their acquirements, or find congenial society, John Cameron, after teaching a year in the college of Glasgow, went to France in the year 1600. Arriving at Bordeaux, his literary attainments excited the admiration of the two Protes- tant clergymen of the city, for, as we are told, "he spoke Greek with as much fluency and elegance as others could speak Latin" — a rare superiority in the scholarship of the period, which procured him the friendship of the learned Casaubon. Through the recommendations of the Protestant clergymen ot Bordeaux, Cameron was appointed a regent in the newly founded college of Bergerai, where his office was to teach the classical languages; but soon after he- was promoted to the higher office of professor ot philosophy in the university of Sedan, by the Due de Bouillon. In this conspicuous situation his character for learning was so greatly increased, that the Duke offered him the professorship of Greek in the same university, which Cameron however respectfully de- clined. He appears indeed to have possessed a full share of that restless disposition and love of change that might lead onward and upward, which were already noted as characterises of his countrymen; and after remaining only two year- at Sedan, he re- signed his professorship, visited Paris, and afterwards returned to Bordeaux, where he was once more c r- dially welcomed. He now had. an opportunity of indulging his erratic disposition by being appointed in 1604 one ot the students of divinity who were maintained at the ex- pense of the French Protestant Church. They were thus to be prepared for its mini-try when their ser- vices should be required, and in the meantime were at liberty to study in any Protestant c . .-. g ' Under this exhibition he became travelling g- and tutor to the two sons of the Chanceil >r ot Navarre; and while he held this office. Cameron his charge one year at Par;.-, two at (lUicva, an 1 nearly a whole year at Heidelberg, -upenr.tci ling the education of his pupils, one ot wli :u ! :ame a very accomplished Greek scholar. < ':: the .:' . ■ ; April. 160S. he gave at the university ! Heidt a public proof of his tal theses Dc tnf'iki De: ' c, u m II '<;: . which have been included in his publish) rks. During the same vear the death ui one ot the Protestant mm- 18 274 JOHN CAMERON. isters of Bordeaux occasioned the recall of Cameron, and he was appointed to fill the vacant charge, where he had Primrose, a learned man, his countryman and friend, for his colleague. He was not, however, to occupy this peaceful office undisturbed. More than any others, the Protestant church of Fiance existed by the sufferance of the government, and was affected by every political change; and the parliament of Bordeaux was distinguished by its hatred of the ministers and adherents of the Reformation. This broke out in 1616, when the two ministers, Cameron and Primrose, were visited with prosecution upon very frivolous pretexts, which, however, was termin- ated speedily, and without harm. But it was not so in the following year, when two captains, who pro- fessed the Protestant creed, were accused of the crime of piracy, and sentenced to an ignominious death. An appeal which was presented in their behalf against the justice of the sentence before the parliament of Bordeaux was arbitrarily rejected, and the accused, whether guilty or not, were left for execution. They suffered with such Christian resignation, that Cameron, who had prepared them for their fate, and attended them in their last moments, published a tract entitled Constance, Fey, et Resolution, a la mort des Capitaines Blanqnet ct Guillard. But to publish such an account of the deaths of two men whom the parliament had condemned was thought little, if anything, less than high treason, and the pamphlet was burned by the hands of the common executioner. From Bordeaux, where he had little prospect of peace, Cameron was transferred, in 1618, to the professorship of divinity in the university of Saumur, the principal seminary of French Protestantism. The church of Bordeaux affectionately clung to their minister, and appealed to the synod against his re- moval; but the verdict of the latter was, that '"because of the pressing and urgent necessities of the said university of Saumur, which is of mighty concernment to all our churches in general, it doth now order and decree that Monsieur Cameron shall continue in the said professorship until the next national synod, and the church of Bordeaux to allow and approve thereof." At the university of Saumur he accordingly remained, where he had for his as- sociate Dr. Duncan, one of those learned Scots who at this period were so numerous in France. Cameron was now at the height of his literary renown: his lec- tures were highly popular, and the celebrated Du Plessis Mornay was one of his frequent auditors. He also enjoyed in 1620 the coveted distinction of a public intellectual tournament. The formidable Daniel Tilenus, who had adopted the doctrines of Arminius, had expressed a wish to hold a public controversy with Cameron upon the doctrines of grace and free-will, to which the other readily as- sented; and the encounter was to take place at the house of a Protestant gentleman in the neighbourhood of Orleans. The two champions met, and the con- troversy was continued during four days, a full account of which was afterwards published at I.eydcn. At a time when orthodoxy was a matter of life-and- death importance, and when an error in belief which would now be considered trivial, was sufficient to convulse parliaments, and throw whole nations into commotion, suspicions had been whispered respect- ing the soundness of some of Cameron's views. Al- ready, at the synod of Poitou, he had been charged with holding the opinion of Piscator touching the imputed righteousness of Christ, but this charge had been declared groundless by the national synod held at Alez. A similar accusation, founded upon In, controversy with Tilenus, was adduced against him by the university of Leydcn, where some of his ex- planations were declared to be unsatisfactory, but these he justified in a brief reply. He also had upon his side, as advocate and defender, that great colossus of theological learning, Bochart, who was at that time a student of divinity. The civil disturbances of France in 1620 had the effect of dispersing the students of the university of Saumur, and Cameron, with his family, took refuge in England. He commenced lecturing on theology, but privately, in London, until 1622, when James I. appointed him principal of the university of Glas- gow, in the room of Robert Boyd, who had held the office, but was displaced for his devotedness to Presbyterian principles. Cameron, on the other hand, had a leaning to Episcopacy, and however this might recommend him to royal favour, it was not calculated to endearhiin to Glasgow, which already had become the stronghold of the anti-prelatic spirit of Scotland. The high learning and gentle ingratiat- ing manners of Cameron not only tended to soften this dislike, but probably to win over adherents to his party; and Baillie himself acknowledged that these qualities of the principal and Mr. Slruthershad almost succeeded in confirming him in his inclinations towards episcopal rule in the church. The stay of Cameron was short in Glasgow — not longer, indeed, than a twelvemonth. It is stated by Verneuil, a French writer of the period, that the reversion of his sentence of banishment in France, and his longing towards that country, were the causes of his leaving Glasgow. Calderwood, however, states that he was so disliked by the people, that he was forced to quit that city. His ideas of the right divine of kings, and the sinfulness of resisting their behests, however un- reasonable, must have been too much for its sturdy half-republican citizens, who had little sympathy for the doctrines of passive obedience, and Cameron him- self, as we have already hinted, was not so rooted in his attachments to any one place as to be unwilling to change it for another. At all events, leaving behind him not only the strict Presbyterianism of his native country on the one hand, but the favour of its sovereign on the other, he returned to France, and took up his abode once more in Saumur. If Cameron had thus abandoned his high office in Glasgow, and left his native country in the hope of being exempt from opposition, and leading a life of peaceful study, he found little benefit by the change of locality. The same causes which were to end in a civil war in England were fermenting with still greater violence in 1'' ranee, so that at Saumur he was permitted nothing more than to read his lectures privately, instead of exercising the rights of a public teacher. In 1623 the province of Anjou appealed to the national synod of Charenton for the reinstate- ment of Cameron in his professorship; but the king announced his will that neither Cameron nor Prim- rose should hold any public office or employment in the churches or universities of France. The oppo- sition of these clergymen to the Jesuits, and the successful manner in which they had exposed the sophistries and devices of the order, was the cause of this severe restriction: it was the usual policy of the Jesuits to silence those whom they were unable to refute. Cameron represented the hardships of his case to the synod. He might have obtained, he stated, very advantageous appointments out of the kingdom, which he had refused to accept, from his love and obligations to the churches of France; and that now, as he could neither hold office nor per- form ministerial or academical duties, he was without employment, and destitute of the means of support. The synod recognized the justice of this appeal by voting him a gratuity of a thousand livres. At length JOHN CAMERON RICHARD CAMERON'. 275 the king also relaxed in his favour, and he was al- lowed to accept the professorship of divinity in the university of Montauban, to which he removed near the end of 1624. But whether in France or Scot- land, his political opinions were unsuitable, and him- self out of his proper element. His doctrines of kingly right and passive obedience were distasteful even to his own party, who had been compelled to extort their privileges from loyalty with an armed hand; and on one occasion an individual treated him with such extreme and barbarous violence, that his health was injured, and his life in peril. Sick and weary of such a strife which he was unqualified to confront, he retired for relief to the neighbouring town of Moissac; but there his health found no re- covery, so that he returned to Montauban, and died a few days afterwards. This occurred in 1625, when he was only forty-six years old. He left behind him a widow and several children, whose maintenance the French Protestant churches undertook, in conse- quence of the services of Cameron, and the high esteem in which his learning and character were held. Of his personal appearance and character his pupil Cappel has left a full description, from which Dr. Irving has composed the following portrait. "With respect to his person, he was of the middle size, somewhat inclining to a spare habit, sound, but not robust in his constitution. His hair was yellow, his eyes were brilliant, and the expression of his counte- nance was lively and pleasant. He appeared to be always immersed in deep meditation, and was some- what negligent in his apparel, and careless in his gait; but in his manners he was very agreeable, and although he was not without a considerable share of irritability, his anger was easily appeased, and he was very ready to acknowledge his own faults. One writer, of doubtful authority, lias represented him as a person of c >nsummate vanity, as a tedious preacher, and an endless talker: but this account is evidently to be received with a considerable degree of caution; and his distinguished pupil Cappel has exhibited his character in a most favourable light. According to his impression, he was a man of eminent integrity and piety, open, candid, and incapable of guile; faith- ful to his friends, and not spiteful to his enemies; of so liberal a turn of mind, that his generosity made some approach to profusion."' Such was Cameron in his person and disposition: of his learning there was but one opinion, however variously expressed. Sir Thomas Urquhart tells us that, in consequence of his universal reading, he ob- tained the title of "the walking library." Milton speaks of him in his Tdrachordon as "a late writer, much applauded, an ingenious writer, and in high esteem."' Bishop Hall regarded him as the most learned writer that Scotland had produced. Simon. in his critical history of the principal commentators on the New Testament, bears witness to Cameron's intimate acquaintance with the principles of criticism, his exact knowledge of the Greek and Hebrew lan- guages, and the skill with which he had elucidated the literal and grammatical sense of many passages in the sacred books which he professed to illustrate. And among our modern theologians, 1 >r. I've Smith, a very high authority, considers Cameron as entitled to be classed among the most learned, judicious, and moderate interpreters, and declares that his annota- tions "are peculiarly valuable, and often anticipate the remarks of later and more celebrated writers." Although he was so earnest a student, he is repre- sented as having not been fond of writing; and that, when he took up the pen, it was chiefly from the solicitation of his friends, or the provocations of his adversaries. Rut when he wrote, it was with rapidity and ease, and the amount of his writings is remark- able when we take into account the comparative shortness of his life. Either his indifference to pos- thumous fame, or the changes and vicissitudes of a restless life, prevented him from committing these productions to the press, and they were collected and published by his friends, chiefly from such copies as had been taken by his pupils. These, however, have been so highly valued, and so carefully preserved, that they have been transmitted to our own day. Soon after his death, his lectures delivered in the university of Saumur were published, underthe follow- ing title, Juh. Cameronis, S. Theologiae in Academia Salmuriensi nitper Professor is, Praelectiones in Selec- tiora quaedum X. T. Loca, Salmurii habitcc. Sal- murii, 1626-8, 3 torn. 4to. A collection of his theological works was published at Geneva in one volume folio in 1642, entitled Joannis Cameronis, Scoto-Brilcuini, Theologi eximii, ra Gu'Sbfiiva, she Opera partim ab auetore ipso edita, partim post ejus obitum vulgala, partim nusquam hactenus publicata, vel e Gallieo idiomate nunc f-rimum in I. at i nam Linguam Translataun unum collecta, etvariisindicibus instructa. CAMERON, Richard, an eminent martyr of the Scottish church, whose name is still retained in the popular designation of one of its sects, was the son of a small shopkeeper at Falkland in Fife. His first appearance in life was in the capacity of schoolmaster and precentor of that parish under the Episcopal clergyman. But, being converted by the field preachers, he afterwards became an enthusiastic votary of the pure Presbyterian system, and, resign- ing those offices, went to reside as a preceptor in the family of Sir Walter Scott of Harden. From this place he was soon compelled to remove, on account of his refusal to attend the ministrations of the parish clergyman. He then fell into the com- pany of the celebrated Mr. John Welch, and was by him persuaded to accept a license as a preacher. This honour was conferred upon him by Mr. Welch and another persecuted clergyman in the house ol Haughhead in Roxburghshire; so simple was the ceremony by which these unfortunate ministers re- cruited their ranks. Cameron soon excited the hostility of the indulged Presbyterian clergy, by the freedom with which he asserted the spiritual independence of the Scottish church. He was, in 1677, reproved for this offence at a meeting of the Presbyterian clergy at Edinburgh. The indulged ministers having threatened to deprive him of his license, he was induced to promise that he would be more sparing in his invectives against them; an engagement which afterwards burdened his con- science so much as to throw him into a deep melan- choly. He sought diver-ion to his grief in If where his fervid eloquence and decided character made a strong impression upon the banished ters. These men appear to have become c nvinci d that his extraordinary zeal could end own destruction, as Mr. Ward, in assisting at hi- ordination, retained his hand for some I the young preacher's head, and exclaimed. "I! all ye beholders, here is the hea '. 1 fa f. tl ter and servant of Jesus Christ, who sh same for his Master's ini before the sun and m< » >i . •'■ ot 1 Cameron returned to his native cour.tr. in 16S0, and. although field-preaching had 11 w 1 n nearly suppressed by the sevei t\ f tl ■ t; verm .:.:, he immediatelv recommenced that ] ractice. It > ne- cessary to be ob.-erve 1. tl t Ca: P-n di i n< t iden- tify himself at anv time v. ith the Pre=b\ terian clergv 2 7 6 RICHARD CAMERON ALEXANDER CAMPBELL. in general; while his proceedings, so little squared by prudence or expediency, were regarded by his brethren with only a gentler kind of disapprobation than that which they excited in the government. The persecutors had now, by dint of mere brute force, reduced almost all men to a tacit or passive conformity; and there only held out a small remnant, as it was termed, who could not be induced to re- main quiet, and at whose head Mr. Richard Cameron was placed, on account of his enthusiastic and ener- getic character. On the 20th of June, 1680, in company with about twenty other persons, well armed, he entered the little remote burgh of San- quhar, and in a ceremonious manner proclaimed at the cross, that he and those who adhered to him renounced their allegiance to the king, on account of his having abused his government, and also declared war against him and all who adhered to him, at the same time avowing their resolution to resist the succession of his brother the Duke of York. The bulk of the Presbyterians beheld this transaction with dismay, for they knew that the government would charge it upon the party in general. The privy council immediately put a reward of 5000 merks upon Cameron's head, and 3000 upon the heads of all the rest; and parties were sent out to waylay them. The little band kept together in arms for a month, in the mountainous country between Nithsdale and Ayrshire. But at length, on the 20th of July, when they were lying in a secure place on Airsmoss, Bruce of Earlshall ap- proached them with a party of horse and foot much superior in numbers. Cameron, who was believed by his followers to have a gift of prophecy, is said to have that morning washed his hands with par- ticular care, in expectation that they were imme- diately to become a public spectacle. His party, at sight of the enemy, gathered closely around him, and he uttered a short prayer, in which he thrice repeated the expression — "Lord, spare the green and take the ripe" — no doubt, including himself in the latter description, as conceiving himself to be among the best prepared for death. He then said to his brother, "Come, let us fight it out to the last; for this is the day which I have longed for, and the day that I have prayed for, to die fighting against our Lord's avowed enemies; this is the day that we will get the crown." To all of them, in the event of falling, he gave assurance that he already saw the gates of heaven open to receive them. A brief skirmish took place, in which the insurgents were allowed, even by their enemies, to have behaved with great bravery; but nothing could avail against superior numbers. Mr. Cameron being among the slain, his head and hands were cut off, and carried to Edinburgh, along with the prisoners, among whom was the celebrated Mr. Hackstoun of Rathil- let. It happened that the father of Cameron was at this time in prison for nonconformity. The head was shown to the old man, with the question, "Did he know to whom it had belonged." lie seized the bloody relics with the eagerness of parental affection, and, kissing them fervently, exclaimed, "1 know, I know them; they are my son's, my own dear son's: it is of the Lord; good is the will of the Lord, who cannot wrong me or mine, but has made goodness and mercy to follow us all our days." The head and hands were then fixed upon the Netherbow Fort, the fingers pointing upwards, in mockery of the attitude of prayer. The headless trunk was buried with the rest of the slain in Airsmoss, where a plain monument was in better times erected over them. To this spot, while the persecution was still raging, Peden, the friend of Cameron, used to re- sort, not so much, apparently, to lament his fate, as to wish that he had shared it. "Oh to be wi' Ritchie !" was the frequent and touching ejaculation of Peden over the grave of his friend. The name of Cameron was applied to the small but zealous sect of Presbyterians which he had led in life, and has since been erroneously extended to the persecuted Presbyterians in general. The twenty-sixth regiment, which was raised at the revolution out of the west- country people who flocked to Edinburgh, was styled, on that account, the Cameronian regiment, which appellation, notwithstanding the obvious error, it still retains. CAMPBELL, Alexander, musician and poet, was born in 1764, at Tombea, on the banks of Loch Lubnaig, above Callendar, and received his educa- tion at the grammar-school of that town. While yet a youth, he removed to Edinburgh, and studied music under the celebrated Tenducci and others. A decided taste for the art, and especially for the simple melodies of his native country, induced him to become a teacher of the harpsichord and of vocal music in Edinburgh; and as he was a zealous ad- herent of the scattered remnant who still espoused the cause of the unhappy Stuarts, he became at the same time organist to a nonjuring chapel in the neighbourhood of Nicolson Street, where the Rev. Mr. Harper then officiated. While in this situation, and still possessed of all the keen feelings of youth, he became acquainted with Robert Burns, who is said to have highly appreciated his ardent character, as he must have strongly sympathized in his national prepossessions. It may also be mentioned that Mr. Campbell was music-master to Sir Walter Scott, with whom, however, he never made any progress, owing, as he used to say, to the total destitution of that great man in the requisite of an ear. Mr. Campbell was twice married, and on the second occasion with such prospects of advancement, that he was induced to abandon his profession, in which he was rising to eminence, and turn his attention to the study of medicine, which, however, he never practised on an extended scale, though he was ready and eager to employ his skill for benevolent purposes. The connections of Mr. Campbell's second wife were of so elevated a rank in life, that he entertained hopes of obtaining, through their means, some em- ployment under government, in his medical capacity; but in this, as in many other things, he was destined to experience a bitter disappointment. In 1798 he published his first literary work, namely, An Intro- duclion to the History of Poetry in Scotland, quarto; to which were added, /'he Songs of the Lowlands, with illustrative engravings by David Allan. The ///story of Poetry, though written in a loose style, and deformed here and there by opinions of a some- what fantastic nature, is a work of considerable research. It was dedicated to the artist Fuseli. It is worth mentioning that a dialogue on Scottish music, prefixed to the ///story, was the first means of giving foreign musicians a correct understanding of the Scottish scale, which, it is well known, differs from that prevalent on the Continent; and it is con- sistent with our knowledge, that the author was highly complimented on this subject by the greatest Italian and German composers. About this time- Mr. Campbell began to extend his views from litera- ture to the arts; and he attained to a very respectable proficiency as a draughtsman. In 1802 appeared his best work, A /'our from Edinburgh through Tarious /'oris of Xorth Britain, iSr-V., 2 vols, quarto, embellished with a series of beautiful aquatint draw- ings by his own hand. This book is very entertain- ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. 277 ing, and, in some parts (for instance, the account of Scottish society in the early part of the eighteenth century), it betrays powers much above the grade of the author's literary reputation. In 1804 Mr. Campbell was induced to appear as an original poet, in a work entitled The Grampians Desolate. If in this attempt he was not very successful in the prin- cipal object, it must at least be allowed, that his various knowledge, particularly in matters of Scot- tish antiquity, and the warm zeal with which he ad- vocates the cause of the exiled Highlanders, give the work an interest for the patriot and the antiquary. Mr. Campbell finally published, in 1816, two parts of a collection of native Highland music, under the title Albyris Anthology, for which Sir Walter Scott, Sir Alexander Boswell, and other eminent literary men, contributed modern verses. Unhappily, Mr. Campbell's acquirements, though such as would have eminently distinguished an independent gentle- man in private life, did not reach that point of per- fection which the public demands of those who ex- pect to derive bread from their practice of the fine arts. Even in music, it was the opinion of eminent judges, that Albytis Anthology would have been more favourably received, if the beautiful original airs had been left unencumbered with the basses and symphonies which the editor himself thought essential. Mr. Campbell, in early life, had been possessed of a handsome person, and a lively and social dis- position. Ciifted, as he then was, with so many of those accomplishments which are calculated to give a charm to existence, it might have been expected that his life would have been one of happiness and prosperity. It was in every respect the reverse. Some unhappy misunderstanding with the relations of his second wife led to a separation between them, and two individuals, who, united, could have pro- moted each other's happiness, lived for ever after apart and miserable. A numerous train of disap- pointments, not exclusively literary, tended further to embitter the declining years of this unfortunate man of genius. Yet his own distresses, and they were numerous, both from disease and difficulty of circumstances, could never either break his spirits, or chill his interest in the happiness of his friends. If he had the foibles of a keen temper, he was free from the faults of a sullen and cold disposition. After experiencing as many of the vicissitudes of life as fall to the lot of most men, he died of apoplexy on the 15th of May, 1824, in the sixty-first year of his age. CAMPBELL, Archibald, Marquis of Argyle, an emin nt political character of the seventeenth century, born in 1598, was the son of Archibald, seventh Earl of Argyle. He was carefully educated in a manner suitable to his birth and station. Having been well grounded in the various branches of classi- cal knowledge, he added to these an attentive per- usal of the Holy Scriptures, in consequence of which his mind became at an early period deeply imbued with a sense of religion, which became stronger and stronger till his dying day. There had long been a hereditary feud between his family and the clan of the Macdonalds, against whom he accompanied his father on an expedition in the year 1616, being then onlv in the eighteenth year v( his age; and two years afterwards, his father having left the kingdom, the care of the Highlands, and especially of the Protes- tant interest there, devolved almost entirely upon him. In 1626 he was sworn of his majesty's most honourable privy council, and in 1628 surrendered into the hands of the king, so far as lay in his power, the office of justice-general in Scotland, which had been hereditary in his family, but reserving to him- self and his heirs the office of justiciary of Argyle and the Western Isles, which was confirmed to him by act of parliament. In 1633 the Earl of Argyle, having declared himself a Roman Catholic, was com- manded to make over his estate to his son by the king, reserving to himself only as much as might support him in a manner suitable to his quality during the remainder of his life. 1 .ord Lome, thus prematurely possessed of political and territorial influence, was, in 1634, appointed one of the extraordinary lords of session, and in the month of April, 1638, after the national covenant had been framed and sworn by nearly all the ministers and people of Scotland, he was summoned up to London, along with Traquair the treasurer, and Roxburgh, lord privy-seal, to advise his majesty under the existing circumstances. They were all equally aware that the covenant was hateful to the king; but Argyle alone spoke freely and honestly, recommending the entire abolition of those innovations which his majesty had recklessly made on the forms of the Scottish church, and which had been solely instrumental in throwing Scotland into its present hostile attitude. Traquair advised a tem- porizing policy, but the Bishops of Galloway, Ross, and Brechin were for strong measures, and suggested a plan for raising an army in the north sufficient for asserting the dignity of the crown, and repressing the insolence of the Covenanters. This advice was agreeable to his majesty, and he followed it out with a blindness alike fatal to himself and the kingdom. The Earl of Argyle, being at this time at court, a bigot to the Romish faith, and friendly to the designs of the king, advised his majesty to detain the Lord Lome a prisoner at London, assuring him that, if he was permitted to return to Scotland, he would certainly do him a mischief. But the king, suppos- ing this advice to be the fruit of the old man's irrita- tion at the loss of his estate, and seeing no feasible pretext for such a violent step, allowed him to depart in peace. He returned to Edinburgh on the 20th of May, and was one of the last of the Scottish no- bility that signed the national covenant, which he did not do till he was commanded to do it by the king. His father dying this same year, he succeeded to all his honours and the remainder of his pr< iperty. During the time he was in London, Argyle was cer- tainly informed of the plan that had been already concerted for an invasion in Scotland by the Irish, under the Marquis of Antrim, who for the part he performed in that tragical drama, was to be rewarded with the whole district of Kintyre, which formed a principal part of the family patrimony of Argyle. 1 his arbitrary partitioning of his property, and lor a pur- pose so nefarious, must have had no small intbier.ee in alienating him from the court. He did not, how- ever, take any decisive step till the assembly of the church that met at Glasgow, November 21st, r .;\ under the auspices of the Marquis of Hamilton, as lord high commissioner. When the mar: protesting against every movement that wa> male by the assembly, and finally by atteni] ting t < • >- solve it the moment it entered upon lui-:ue.»s. covered that he was only playing the g king, Argyle, as well as several ' nobility, could no longer refrain troi part in the work of reformat ion. < hi tin '■'■' of the commissioner, all the pr.vs him except Argyle: and at the c'. - : : Mr. Henderson the moderat r, sen.- ' ' ad- vantages they had derived from his ; i\ -■■: mented him in a 1 re " gretted that his lonbhij ha 1 ■■ ' j im i « ... mem 278 ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. sooner, but hoped that God had reserved him for the best times, and that lie would yet highly honour him in making him instrumental in promoting the best interests of his church and people. To this his lord- ship made a suitable reply, declaring it was not from want of affection to the cause of God and his country that he had not sooner come forward to their assistance, but from a fond hope that by remaining with the court, he might have been able to bring about a redress of their grievances, to the comfort and satisfaction of both parties. This assembly, so remarkable for the bold character of its acts, sat twenty-six days, and in that time accomplished all that had been expected from it. The six previous assemblies, all that had been held since the accession of James to the English crown, were unanimously declared unlawful, and by this sentence their proceed- ings in favour of Episcopacy were cancelled, and Episcopacy itself overthrown in Scotland. Two archbishops and six bishops were excommunicated, four bishops were deposed, and two, who made humble submission to the assembly, were simply suspended, and thus the whole Scottish bench was at once silenced. The assembly rose in great triumph on the 20th of December. ''We have now," said the moderator, Henderson, "cast down the walls of Jericho; let him that rebuildeth them beware of the curse of Hiel the Bethclite." While the assembly was thus doing its work, the time-serving Marquis of Hamilton was, according to the instructions of his master, practising every shift to give the king the better ground of quarrel, and allow him time to collect his forces. Preparations for an invasion of Scotland had for some time been in progress, and in May, 1639, Charles approached the border with about 16,000 men, while a large host of Irish Papists was expected to land in his behalf upon the west coast, and Hamilton entered the Firth of Forth with a fleet containing a small army. During this first campaign, while General Leslie with the main body of the Scottish army marched for the border with the view of carrying the war into England, Montrose, at this time one of the most violent of the Covenanters, was sent to the north to watch over Iluntly and the Aberdonians, and Argyle pro- ceeded to his own country to watch the Macdonalds and the Pari of Antrim, who threatened to lay it wa^te. For this purpose he raised not less than 900 of his vassals, part of whom he stationed in Kintyre to watch the movements of the Irish, and part in Lorn to guard against the Macdonalds, while with a third part he passed over into Arran, which he secured by seizing upon the castle of Brodick, one of the strongholds belongingto the Marquis of Hamil- ton; and thus rendered the attempt on the part of the Irish at the time nearly impossible. On the pacifi- cation that took place at Birks, near Berwick, Argyle was sent for to court; but the Pari of l.oudon having bejn sent up as commissioner from the Scottish estates, and by his majesty's order been committed to the Tower, where he was said to have narrowly escaped a violent death, the Pari of Argyle durst not, at this time, trust himself in the king's hands. On the re- sumption of hostilities in 1640, when Charles was found to have signed the treat}- of Birks only 10 gain time, the care of the west coast, and the reduction of the northern clans, was again intrusted to Argyle. Committing, on this occasion, the care of Kintyre and the Islands to their own inhabitants, he traversed, with a force of about 5000 men attended by a small train of artillery, the districts of Badenoch, Athol, and Marr, levying the taxes imposed by the estates, and enforcing subjection to their authority. The Pari of Athol, havim* made a show of resistance at the ford of Lyon, was sent prisoner to Stirling; and his factor, Stuart, younger, of Grantully, with twelve of the leading men in his neighbourhood, were com- manded by Argyle to enter in ward at Pdinburgh till they found security for their good behaviour, and he exacted 10,000 pounds Scots in the district, for the support of his army. Passing thence into Angus, Argyle demolished the castles of Airly and Forthar, residences of the Earl of Airly, and returned to Argyleshire, the greater part of his troops being sent to the main body in England. In this campaign the king, finding himself unable to continue the contest, made another insincere paci- fication at Ripon, in the month of October, 1640. Montrose, who had been disgusted with the Cove- nanters, and gained over by the king, now began to form a party of loyalists in Scotland; but his designs were accidentally discovered, and he was put under arrest. To ruin Argyle, who was the object of his aversion, Montrose now reported, that at the ford of Lyon he had said that the Covenanters had consulted both lawyers and divines anent deposing the king, and had gotten resolution that it might be done in thret cases — desertion, invasion, and vendition, and that they had resolved, at the last sitting of parliament, to accomplish that object next session. For this malicious falsehood Montrose re- ferred to a Mr. John Stuart, commissary of Dunkeld, who upon being questioned retracted the accusation, which he owned he had uttered out of pure malice. Stuart was, of course, prosecuted for leasing-making, and, though he professed the deepest repentance for his crime, was executed. The king, though he had made an agreement with his Scottish subjects, was getting every day upon worse terms with the Pnglish, and in the summer of 1641 came to Scotland with the view of engaging the affections of that kingdom, so that he might oppose the parliament with the more effect. On this occasion his majesty displayed great condescension; he appointed Henderson to be one of his chaplains, attended divine service without either service-book or ceremonies, and was liberal of his favours to all the leading Covenanters. Argyle was on this occasion particularly attended to, together with the Marquis of Hamilton and his brother Lanark, both of whom had become reconciled to the Covenanters, and admitted to their full share of power. Montrose, in the meantime, was under con- finement, but was indefatigable in his attempts to ruin those whom he supposed to stand between him and the object of his ambition, the supreme direction of public affairs. For the accomplishment of this darling purpose he proposed nothing less than the assassination of the Paris of Argyle and Lanark, with the Marquis of Hamilton. binding that the king regarded his proposals with horror, he conceived the gentler design of arresting these nobles during the night, after being called upon pretence of speaking with Charles, in his bed-chamber, when they might be delivered to a body of soldiers pre- pared under the Earl of Crawford, who was to carry them on board a vessel in Leith Roads, or to kill them if they made any resistance; but at all events, to detain them till his majesty had gained a sufficient ascendency in the country to try, con- demn, and execute them under colour of law. Col- onel Cochrane was to have marched with his regi- ment from Musselburgh to overawe the city of Pdin- burgh; a vigorous attempt was at the same time to have been made by Montrose to obtain possession ot the castle. In aid of this plot, an attempt was made to obtain a declaration for the king from the Pnglish army, and the Catholics of Ireland were to have made a rising, which they actually attempted on the same ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. 279 day; all evidently undertaken in concert for the pro- motion of the royal cause— but all of which had the contrary effect. Some one, invited to take a part in the plot against Argyle and the Hamiltons, com- municated it to Colonel Hurry, who communicated it to General Leslie, and he lost not a moment in warning its intended victims, who took precautions for their security the ensuing night, and, next morning, after writing an apology to the king for their conduct, tied to Kiniel House in West Lothian, where the mother of the two Hamiltons at that time resided. The city of Edinburgh was thrown into the utmost alarm, in consequence of all the leading Covenanters judging it necessary to have guards placed upon their houses for the protection of their persons. In the afternoon, the king, going up the main street, was followed by upwards of 500 armed men, who entered the outer hall of the parliament house along with him, which necessarily increased the confusion. The house, alarmed by this military array, refused to proceed to business till the command of all the troops in the city and neighbourhood was intrusted to General Leslie, and every stranger not particularly known ordered to leave the city. The three noble- men returned to their post in a few days, were to all appearance received into their former state of favour, and the whole matter seemed in Scotland at once to have dropped into oblivion. Intelligence of the whole affair was, however, sent up to the English parliament by their agents, who, under the name of commissioners, attended as spies upon the king, and it had a lasting and a most pernicious effect upon his affairs. This, and the news of the Irish insurrection, which speedily followed, caused his majesty to hasten his departure, after he had feasted the whole body of the nobility in the great hall of the palace of Holy- rood, on the 17th of November, 1641, having two days before created Argyle a Marquis. Finding on his return to London that the parliament was getting more and more intractable, Charles sent down to the Scottish privy council a representation of the insults and injuries he had received from that parliament, with a requisition that they would send up to West- minster a declaration of the deep sense they enter- tained of the danger ami injustice of their present course. A privy council was accordingly summoned, and a number of the friends of the court, Kinnoul, Roxburgh, and others, now known by the name of Banders, having assembled in the capital, strong suspicions were entertained of a design upon the life of Argyle. The gentlemen of Fife and the Lothians hastened to the scene of action, where the high royalists, who had expected to carry matters in the council against the English parliament, met with so much opposition, that they abandoned their purpose. and the king signified his pleasure that they should not interfere in the business. When hostilities had actually commenced between the king and the parliament, Argyle was so far pre- vailed upon by the Marquis of Hamilton to trust the asseverations of his majesty for peace, that he signed, along with Loudon, Warriston, and Hender- son, the invitation framed by the court party to the queen to return from Holland, to assist in mediat- ing a peace between his majesty and the two houses of parliament. The battle ot Edgehill, however, so inspirited the king, that he rejected the offer on the pretence that he durst not hazard her person. In 1642, when, at the request of the parliament of England, troops were raised by the Scottish estates to aid the Protestants of Ireland, Argyle was nomi- nated to a colonelcy in one ot the regiments, and in the month of January, 1O44. lie accompanied General Leslie with the Scottish armv into England as chief of the committee of parliament, but in a short time returned with tidings of the defeat of the Marquis of Newcastle at Newburn. The ultra royalists, highly offended at the assistance afforded by the estates of Scotland to the parliament of England, had already- planned and begun to execute different movements in the north, which they intended should either over- throw the estates or oblige them to recall their army from England for their own defence. The Marquis of Huntly had already commenced hostilities, by making prisoners of the provost and magistrates of Aberdeen, and plundering the town of all its arms and ammunition. He also published a declaration of hostilities against the Covenanters. Earl-maris- chal, apprised of this, summoned the committees of Angus and Mearns, and sent a message to Huntly to dismiss his followers. Huntly, trusting to the assurances he had obtained from Montrose, Crawford, and Nithsdale of assistance from the south, and from Ireland, sent an insulting reply to the committee, requiring them to disband, and not interrupt the peace of the country. In the month of April Argyle was despatched against him, with what troops he could raise for the occasion, and came unexpectedly upon him after his followers had plundered and set on fire the town of Montrose, whence they retreated to Aberdeen. Thither they were followed by Argyle, who, learning that the laird of Haddow, with a number of his friends, had fortified themselves in the house of Killie, marched thither, and invested it with his army. Unwilling, however, to lose time by a regular siege, he sent a trumpeter offering pardon to every man in the garrison who should surrender, the laird of Haddow excepted. Seeing no means of escape, the garrison accepted the terms. Haddow was sent to Edinburgh, brought to trial on a charge of treason, found guilty, and executed. Huntly, afraid of being sent to his old quarters in Edinburgh Castle, repaired to the Bog of Gight. In the mean- time about 1200 of the promised Irish auxiliaries. under Alaster Macdonald, landed on the island ot Mull, where they captured someof thesmall fortresses, and sailing for the mainland, they disembarked in Knoydart, where they attempted to raise some of the clans. Argyle, to whom this Alaster Macdonald. was a mortal enemy, having sent round some ships of war from Leith, which seized the vessels that had transported them over, they were unable to leave the country; and he himself, with a formidable force, hanging upon their rear, they were driven into the in- terior, where they traversed the wilds of Lochaber and Badenoch, expecting to meet a royal army under Montrose, though in what place they had no know- ledge. Macdonald, in order to reinforce them, had sent through the fiery cross in various directions, though with indifferent succe.-s, till Montrose at last met them, having found his way through the country in disguise all the way from Oxford, with only 1 two attendants. Influenced by Montrose, the men of Athol, who were generally anti-covenanters, the royal standard, and he soon found himselt at the head of a formidable army. His situation was : t. however, promising. Argyle was in his rear, beii ^ in pursuit of the Irish, who i. ravages upon hi- estates, and there were betore him 6000 or 7000 men under Lord Elcho -tat; Perth. Flcho's troops, however, were only raw militia, and their leaders were -at t< tot cause. A.- the most prudent mea-ure, he did not wait to be attacked, but went t ■ m< ' M ntr - . who was marching through Strathearn. 1 up a position U| on the plain f Tippern v. r, where he was attacked by Montrose, an '. : ■ of a few minutes. 1 erth fed at once into the ban is 2SO ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. of the victor, and was plundered of money and what- ever could be carried away. The stoutest young men he also impressed into the ranks, and seized upon all the horses fit for service. Thus strengthened, he poured down upon Angus, where he received numerous reinforcements. Dundee he attempted, but finding there were troops in it sufficient to hold it out for some days, and dreading the approach of Argyle, who was still following him, he pushed north to Aberdeen. Here his former covenanting rage had been bitterly felt, and at his approach the committee sent oil the public money and all their most valuable effects to Dunnottar Castle. They at the same time threw up some rude fortifications, anil had 2000 men prepared to give him a warm reception. Crossing the Dee by a ford, he at once eluded their fortifica- tions and deranged their order of battle; and issu- ing orders for an immediate attack, they were de- feated, and a scene of butchery followed which has few parallels in the annals of civilized warfare. In the fields, the streets, or the houses, armed or un- armed, no man found mercy: the ragged they killed and stripped; the well-dressed, for fear of spoiling their clothes, they stripped and killed. After four days employed in this manner, the ap- proach of Argyle drove them to the north, where they intended to take refuge beyond the Spey; but the boats were all removed to the other side, and the whole force of Moray was assembled to dispute the passage. Nothing remained for Montrose but to take refuge among the hills, and his rapid move- ments enabled him to gain the wilds of Badenoch with the loss only of his artillery and heavy baggage, where he bade defiance to the approach of anything like a regular army. After resting a few days, he again descended into Athol to recruit, and after- wards into Angus, where he wasted the estates of Lord Couper, and plundered the house of Dun, in which the inhabitants of Montrose had deposited their valuables, and which also afforded a supply of arms and artillery. Argyle, all this while, fol- lowed his footsteps with a superior army, but could never come up with him. lie, however, proclaimed him a traitor, and offered a reward of ,£20,000 for his head. Having strengthened his army by forced levies in Athol, Montrose again crossed the Gram- pians, and spreading devastation along his line of march, attempted once more to raise the Cordons. In this he was still unsuccessful, and at the castle of Fyvie, which he had taken, was at last surprised by Argyle and the Earl of Lothian, who, with an army of 3000 horse and foot, were within two miles of his cam]) when he believed them to be on the other side of the Grampians. Here, had there been anything like management on the part of the army of the estates, his career had certainly closed, but in military affairs Argyle was neither skilful nor brave. After sustaining two assaults from very superior numbers, Montrose drew off his little army with scarcely any loss, and by the way of Strathbogie plunged again into the wilds of Badenoch, where he expected Macdonald and the Irish with what re- cruits they had been able to raise. Argyle, whose army was now greatly weakened by desertion, re- turned to Edinburgh and threw up his commission in disgust. The estates, however, received him in the most friendly manner, and passed an act approv- ing of his conduct. By the parliament, which met this year on the 4th of June, Argyle was named, along with the chancellor Loudon, Lord Balmerino, Warriston, and others, as commissioners, to act in concert with the Lnglish parliament in their negotiations witli the km -; but from the manner in which he was occu- pied, he must have been able to overtake a very small part of the duties included in the commis- sion. Montrose no sooner found that Argyle had retired, than, to satiate his revenge, he marched into Glenorchy, belonging to a near relation of Argyle, and in the depth of winter rendered the whole country one wide field of blood. Nor was this destruction confined to Glenorchy; it was extended through Argyle and Lorn to the very confines of Lochaber, not a house he was able to surprise being left unburned, nor a man unslaughtcred. Spalding adds, "He left not a four-footed beast in the haill country; such as would not drive he houghed and slew, that they should never make stead." Having rendered the country a wilderness, he bent his way for Inverness, when he was informed that Argyle had collected an army of 3000 men, and had ad- vanced as far as Inverlochy. Montrose no sooner learned this than, striking across the almost inac- cessible wilds of Lochaber, he came, by a march of about six and thirty hours, upon the camp of Argyle at Inverlochy, and was within half a mile of it before they knew that there was an enemy within several days' march of then.. The state of his followers did not admit of an immediate attack by Montrose; but everything was ready for it by the dawn of day, and with the dissolving mists of the morning. On the 2d of February, 1645, Argyle, from his pinnace on the lake, whither he had retired on account of a hurt by a fall from his horse, which disabled him from fighting, beheld the total annihilation of his army, one half of it being literally cut to pieces, and the other dissipated among the adjoin- ing mountains, or driven into the water. Unable to aid his discomfited troops, he immediately hoisted sail and made for a place of safety. On the 12th of the month he appeared before the parliament, then sitting in Edinburgh, to which he related the tale of his own and their misfortune, in the best manner no doubt which the case could admit of. The circumstances, however, were such as no colour- ing could hide, and the estates were deeply affected. But the victory at Inverlochy, though as complete as victory can well be supposed, and gained with the loss of only two or three men, was perhaps more pernicious to the victors than the vanquished. The news of it unhappily reached Charles at a time when he was on the point of accepting the terms of reconciliation offered to his parliament, which re- conciliation, if effected, might have closed the war for ever; and he no sooner heard of this remarkable victory, than he resolved to reject them, and trust to continued hostilities for the means of obtaining a more advantageous treaty. Montrose, also, whose forces were always reduced after a victor}-, as the Highlanders were wont to go home to deposit their spoils, could take no other advantage of "the day of Inverlochy," than to carry on, upon a broader scale, and with less interruption, the barbarous system of warfare which political, religious, and feudal hostility had induced him to adopt. Instead of inarching towards the capital, where he might have broken up the administration of the estates, he advanced into the province of .Mora}', and, issuing an order for all the men above sixteen and below sixty to join his standard, proceeded to burn the houses and destroy the goods upon the estates of (irangehill, Brodie, Cow bin. Lines, Ballendalloch, Foyness, and 1'itchash. lie plundered also the village of Garmouth and the lands of Burgie, Lethen, and Duffus, and destroyed all the boats and nets upon tlie Spey. Argyle having thrown up his com- mission as general of the army, which was given to General Baillie, he was now attached to it only as ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. 2S1 member of a committee appointed by the parliament to direct its movements, and in this capacity was present at the battle of Kilsyth, August 15th, 1645, the most disastrous of all the six victories of Mon- trose to the Covenanters, upwards of 6000 men being slain on the field of battle and in the pursuit. This, however, was the last of the exploits of the great marquis. There being no more detachments of militia in the country to oppose to him, General David Leslie, with some regiments of horse, were recalled from the army in England, who surprised and defeated him at Philiphaugh, annihilating his little army, and, according to an ordinance of par- liament, hanging up without distinction all the Irish prisoners. In the month of February, 1646, Argyle was sent over to Ireland to bring home the Scottish troops that had been sent to that country to assist in re- pressing the turbulence of the Catholics. He re- turned to Edinburgh in the month of May following. In the meantime, Alaster Macdonald, the coadjutor of Montrose, had made another tour through his country of Argyle, giving to fire and sword what- ever had escaped the former inroads; so that up- wards of 1200 of the inhabitants, to escape absolute starvation, were compelled to emigrate into Men- teith. But scarcely had they made the attempt, when they were attacked by Inchbrackie, with a party of Athol men, and chased beyond the Forth near Stirling, where they were joined by the marquis, who carried them into Lennox. So deplorably had his estates been wasted by Montrose and Mac- donald, that a sum of money was voted for the support of himself and family, and for paying annual rents to some of the more necessitous creditors upon his estates. A collection was at the same time ordered through all the churches of Scotland, for the relief of his poor people who had been plundered by the Irish. In July, 1646, when the king had surrendered himself to the Scottish army, Argyle went to Newcastle to wait upon him. On the 3d of August following, he was sent up to London, to treat with the parliament of England concerning a mitigation of the articles they had presented to the king, with some of which he was not at all satisfied. He was also on this occasion the bearer of a secret commission from the king, to consult with the Duke of Richmond and the Marquis of Hertford concern- ing the propriety of the Scottish army and parlia- ment declaring for him. both of these noblemen disapproved of the scheme, as it would be the en- tire ruin of his interests. la this matter Argyle certainly did not act with perfect integrity; and it was probably a consciousness of this that kept him absent from any of the committees concerning the king's person, or any treaty for the withdrawal of the Scottish army, or the payment of its arrears. The opinion of the-e two noblemen, however, he faithful! I to his majesty, who professed to be satisfied, but ^,,>ke of adopting some other plan, giving evident prool that his pretending to accept conditions was a mere pretence — a put off — till he lay h >ld of some lucky turn in the chapter of accidents. It was probably from a pain- ful anticipation of the fatal result of the king'* per- tinacity, that Argyle, when he returned to Edinburgh and attended the parliament which assembled on the 3'd of November, demanded and obtained an ex- plicit approval of all that he had transacted, as their accredited commissioner; and it must not be lost sight of, that, for all the public business I been engaged in, except what was voted him in pience of his great 1 '—-•-. he never hitherto had received one farthing of salarv. When the engagement, as it was called, was entered into by the Marquis of Hamilton, and other Scottish Presbyterian royalists, Argyle opposed it, because, from what he had been told by the Duke of Richmond and the Marquis of Hertford, when he had himself been half embarked in a scheme some- what similar, he believed it would be the total ruin of his majesty's cause. The event completely justi- fied his fears. By exasperating the sectaries and re- publicans, it was the direct and immediate cause of the death of the king. On the march of the En- gagers into England, Argyle. Lglinton, Cassilis, and Lothian marched into Edinburgh at the head of a multitude whom they had raised, before whom the committee of estates left the city, and the irre- mediable defeat of the Engagers threw the rein-, of government into the hands of Argyle, Warri-ton, Loudon, and others of the more zealous Presbyterians. The flight of the few Engagers who reached their native land, was followed by Cromwell, who came all the way to Berwick, with the purpose apparently of invading Scotland. Argyle, in the month of September or October, 1648, went to Mordington, where he had an interview with that distinguished individual, whom, along with General Lambert, he conducted to Edinburgh, where he was received in a way worthy of his high fame, and everything between the two nations was amicably settled. It has been, without the least particle of evidence, asserted that Argyle, in the various interviews he held with Cromwell at this time, agreed that Charles should be executed. The losses to which Argyle was afterwards subjected, and the hardships he endured for adhering to Charles' interests after he was laid in his grave, should, in the absence of all evidence to the contrary, be a sufficient attestation of his loyalty, not to speak of the parliament, of which he was unquestionably the most influential individual, in the ensuing month of February pro- claiming Charles II. King of Scotland, England, France, and Ireland, &c, than which nothing could be more offensive to the then existing government of England. In sending over the deputation to Charles in Holland in the spring of 1649. Argyle was heartily concurring, though he had been not a little disgusted with his associates in the administra- tion, on account of the execution of his brother-in- law, the Marquis of Hunt'.}', whom he in vain tried to save. It is also said that lie refused to a.-sist at the trial, or to concur in the sentence passed upon the Marquis of Montrose, in the month of May. 1650, declaring that he was to > much a party to be a judge in that matter. ( »f the leading part i. formed in the installation of Charles II., upon whose head he placed the crown at Scone on the i>t of January, 1651, we have not room to give at ticular account. Of the high consequence in which his services were held at the time, there nee is n > other proof than the report that the king inter marrving one of his daughters. For the defe: the king and king well was now ready to march., he. committee of estates, made the m -' v:g< 1 ertions. Even after th I consequent depression of the kin,'- per-or.al in- terests, he adhered to his mail -t\ ' 1:1 zeal and diligence, of which (. hari m- t been sensible at the til it expe lead the > in the vain hope vi raising the cavr.'.tt r- : Presbyterians in hi> fa\ . ArgCe i.tami 1 leave to remain at home, 1 :i ; . ' ' • ■■ ' — "f his la Iv. After the wh ■ :. ■ - ■ :' the S t- were laid low at \Y rce ter, Set tem'ici : i. r ~i. '..-. r. tired :82 ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. to Inverary, where he held out against the trium- phant troops of Cromwell for a whole year, till, falling sick, he was surprised by General Dean, and carried to Edinburgh. Having received orders from Monk to attend a privy council, he was entrapped to be present at the ceremony of proclaiming Crom- well lord-protector. A paper was at the same time tendered him to sign, containing his submission to the government, as settled without king or house of lords, which he absolutely refused, though after- wards, when he was in no condition to struggle farther, he signed a promise to live peaceably under that government. He was always watched, how- ever, by the ruling powers, and never was regarded by any of the authorities as other than a concealed loyalist. When Scotland was declared by Cromwell to be incorporated with England, Argyle exerted himself, in opposition to the council of state, to have Scotsmen alone elected to serve in parliament for North Britain, of which Monk complained to Thurlow, in a letter from Dalkeith, dated September 30, 165S. Under Richard he was himself elected for the county of Aberdeen, and took his seat ac- cordingly in the house, where he wrought most effec- tually for the service of the king, by making that breach through which his majesty entered, (hi the restoration, Argyle's best friends advised him to keep out of the way on account of his compliances with the usurpation; but he judged it more honour- able and honest to go and congratulate his majesty upon so happy a turn in his affairs. But when he arrived at Whitehall, July S, 1660, the king no sooner heard his name announced, than, "with an angry stamp of the foot, he ordered Sir William Fleming to execute his orders," which were to carry him to the Tower. To the Tower he was carried accordingly, where he lay till the month of Decem- ber, when he was sent down to Leith aboard a man- of-war, to stand his trial before the high court of parliament. While confined in the Tower, the marquis made application to have the affidavits of several persons in England taken respecting some matters of fact before the usurpation, which, had justice been the object of his persecutors, could not have been denied. Revenge, however, being 'he object, these facts might have proved incon- venient, and the request was flatly refused. Argyle was brought before the Scottish parliament for trial on the 13th of February, 166 1 . I lis indict- ment, consisting of fourteen articles, comprehended the history of all the transactions that had taken place in Scotland since 1638. The whole procedure on one side of the question, during all that time, had already been declared rebellion, and each individual concerned was of course liable to the charge of treason. Middleton, lord high-commissioner to parliament, eager to possess his estate, of which he doubted not he would obtain the gift, conducted the trial in a manner not only inconsistent with justice, bat with dignity and decency. From the secret conversations Argyle had held with Cromwell, Middleton drew the conclusion, that the interruption of the treaty of Newport and the execution of Charles had been the fruit of their joint deliberations. The marquis was defended on this point by Sir John Gilmour, president of the court- of session, with such force of argument as to compel the reluctant parlia- ment to exculpate him from all blame in the matter of the king's death; and, after having exhibited the utmost contempt for truth, and a total disregard of character or credit in the prosecution, the crown lawyers were at length obliged to fix on his com- pliance with the English during the usurpation, as the only species of treason that could at all be made to affect him. Upon this point there was not one of his judges who had not been equally, and some of them much more, guilty than himself. " How could I suppose," said the marquis with irresistible effect in his defence on this point, "that I was acting criminally, when the learned gentleman who now acts as his majesty's advocate took the same oaths to the commonwealth with myself?" He was not less successful in replying to every iota of his indict- ment, in addition to which he gave in a signed sup- plication and submission to his majesty, which was regarded just as little as his defences. The modera- tion, the good sense, and the magnanimity, however, which he displayed, joined to his innocence of the crimes charged against him, wrought so strongly upon the house, that great fears were entertained that, after all, he would be acquitted. To counteract the influence of his two sons, Lord Lome and Lord Neil Campbell, who were both in London, exerting themselves in his behalf, Glencairn, Rothes, and Sharpe were sent up to court, where, when it was found that the proof was thought to be defective, application was made to General Monk, who fur- nished them with some of the Marquis of Argyle's private letters, which were sent down post to Mid- dleton, who laid them before parliament, and by this means obtained a sentence of condemnation against the noble marquis, on Saturday the 25th; and he was executed accordingly on Monday the 27th of May, 1661. Than the behaviour of this nobleman during his trial, and after his receiving sentence of death, nothing could be more dignified or becoming the character of a Christian. Conscious of his integrity, he defended his character and conduct with firmness and magnanimity, but with great gentleness and the highest respect for authority. After receiving his sentence, when brought back to the common jail, his excellent lady was waiting for him, and, em- bracing him, wept bitterly, exclaiming, "The Lord will requite it;" but, calm and composed, he said, "Forbear; truly, I pity them; they know not what they are doing; they may shut me in where they please; but they cannot shut out God from me. For my part I am as content to be here as in the castle, and as content in the castle as in the Tower of London, and as content there as when at liberty, and I hope to be as content on the scaffold as any of them all." His short time till Monday he spent in serenity and cheerfulness, and in the proper exercises of a dying Christian. To some of the ministers he said that they would shortly envy him for having got before them, for he added, "My skill fails me, if you who are ministers will not either suffer much, or sin much; for, though you go along with those men in part, if you do it not in all things, you are but where you were, and so must suffer; and if you go not at all with them, you shall but suffer." On the morning of his execution he spent two hours in subscribing papers, making conveyances, and forwarding other matters of business relating to his estate; and while so employed, he suddenly became so overpowered with a feeling of divine goodness, according to con- temporary authority, that he was unable to contain himself, and exclaimed, " I thought to have con- cealed the Lord's goodness, but it will not do: 1 am now ordering my affairs, and God is sealing my charter to a better inheritance, and saying to me, 'Son, be of good cheer; thy sins are forgiven thee.'" I Ie wrote the same day a most affecting letter to the king, recommending to his protection his wife and children. " lie came to the scaffold," says Burnet, "in a very solemn, but undaunted manner, accom- panied with many of the nobility and some ministers. ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. 283 He spoke for half an hour with a great appearance of serenity. Cunningham, his physician, told me that he touched his pulse, and it did then beat at the usual rate, calm and strong." It is related, as an- other proof of the resolution of Argyle, in the last trying scene, that, though he had eaten a whole partridge at dinner, no vestige of it was found in his stomach after death; if he had been much affected by the anticipation of death, his digestion, it may be- easily calculated, could not have been so good. His head was struck off by the instrument called the maiden, ami affixed on the west end of the Tolbooth, where that of Montrose had been till very lately perched; a circumstance that very sensibly marks the vicissitudes of a time of civil dissension. His body was conveyed by his friends to Dunoon, and buried in the family sepulchre at Kilmun. Argyle, with few qualities to captivate the fancy, has always been esteemed by the Scots as one of the most consistent and meritorious of their patriots. For the sake of his exemplary character, and dis- tinguished resistance to the measures of Charles I., as well as his martyrdom in that cause, they have overlooked a quality generally branded with their contempt — his want of courage in the field — which caused him, throughout the whole of the transac- tions of the civil war, to avoid personal contact with danger, though often at the head of large bodies of troops. The habits of Argyle in private life were those of an eminently ami sincerely pious man. In Mr. Wodrow's diary of traditionary collections, it is related, under May 9, 1702, upon the credit of a clergyman, the last survivor of the General Assembly of 1(151, that his lordship used to rise at five, and continue in private till eight: besides family worship, and private prayer, morning ami evening, he prayed with his lady morning and evening, in the presence of his own gentleman and her gentlewoman; he never went abroad, though but tor one night, without taking along with him his writing-standish, a Bible, and A'ewman's Concordance. Upon the same authority we relate the following anecdote: — "After the coronation of King Charles II. at Scone, he waited a long time for an opportunity of dealing freely with his majesty on religious matters, and par- ticularly about his suspected disregard of the coven- ant, and his encouragement of malignants, and other sins. One Sabbath night after supper he went into the king's closet, and began to converse with him on these topics. Charles was seemingly sensible, and they came at length to pray and mourn together till two or three in the morning. When he came home to his lady, she was surprised, and told him she never knew him so untimeous. He said he never had had such a sweet night in the world, and told her all — what liberty he had in prayer, and how much con- vinced the king was. She said plainly that that night would cost him his head — which came to pass." Mr. Wodrow also mention-, that, during the Glasgow assembly, Henderson and other ministers spent many nights in prayer and conference with the Marquis of Argyle, and he dated his conversion, or his know- ledge of it, from those times. I lis lordship was married to Margaret, second daughter of William, second Karl of Morton, and by her left two sons and three daughters. CAMPBELL. Archikai.d, Ninth Earl of Argyle, son of the preceding, was an equally unfortunate, though less distinguished, political character, in the unhappiest era of Scottish history. 1 le was educated under the eve of his father, and, at an early period of life, w;',s highly distinguished for his personal accomplishments. After going through the schools, he was sent to travel on the Continent, and, during the years I047, 164S, and 1649, spent the greater paTt of his time in France and Italy. He appears to have returned to Scotland about the close ol 1649, and we find him in 1650, after Charles II. had arrived in Scotland, appointed colonel of one of the regi- ments of foot-guards that were embodied on that occasion, holding his commission from the king in- stead of the parliament. He was present at the battle of Dunbar, fought in the month of September, 1650, when he displayed great bravery; and where his lieutenant-colonel, Wallace, who afterwards com- manded the Covenanters at Pent lam 1. was taken prisoner. After the battle of Worcester he still continued in arms, and kept up a party in the High- lands ready to serve his majesty on any favourable- opportunity. Nor did he hesitate, for this purpose, to act along with the most deadly enemies of his house. In 1654 he joined the Earl of Glencairn with a thousand foot and fifty horse, contrary to the advice of his father, who saw no possibility of any- good being done by that ill-advised armament. After having remained with these cavaliers for a fortnight, finding his situation neither safe nor comfortable among so many Murrays, Gordons, and Macdonalds, he withdrew from them, taking the road for the barracks of Ruthven, and was pursued by Macdonald of Glengary, who would certainly have slain him, had he not escaped with his horse, leaving his foot to shift for themselves. Glengary, having missed Lord Lome, would have revenged himself by killing his people, but was prevented by Glencairn, who took from them an oath of fidelity, and. carried them back to the camp; whence they in a short time found means to escape in small bodies, till there was not one of them remaining. On this occasion he held a commission of lieutenant-general from Charles II., which rendered him so obnoxious to Cromwell, that he excepted him from his act of grace, published in the month of April this year. Lord Lome was soon after obliged to take refuge in one of his remote islands, with only four or five attendants, and, seeii g no prospect of deliverance, submitted to the common- wealth government. In November of the following year, 1655, Monk compelled him to find security for his peaceable behaviour to the amount of /. 50CO sterling. He was, notwithstanding, constantly watched, particularly by the Lord Broghill, who had the meanness to corrupt even his body servants. and constitute them spies upon their master's con- duct. In the spring of 1657 Monk committed him to prison, and broghill was earnest to have him carried to England, for the more effectually prevent- ing his intrigues among the royalists. Shortly after the restoration he waited on his majesty, Charles II., with a letter from his father, and was received graciotislv, that the marquis was induced to to London upon the same errand as his son, 1 ut was sent to the Tower without an audience. 1 hir d ' time that Middleton was practising ayainst hi- the marquis, Lord Lome exerted himself wit zeal, and though he failed in resci parent from the toils into which he h: I lie left a favourable impression on tl Charles with regard to himself, and. in : stowing the estates of Argyle u] that profligate fondly expected, he wa- :i . ' restore them, as well as the original t;t!i ol e. rl. ' , the rightful heir. Nor wa- th - ..' n. ' astonishment of all the world, St t- tish parliament, condemned to ,. odious statute respecting leasing-ni king, he wa-, again saved by the royal , hiS enemies. 2S 4 ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. For some considerable time after this, there is little to be told of the Earl of Argyle. It was on the 29th of June, 16S1, that he gave his vote in the council against Donald Cargill; and the very next day the parliament sat down which framed, under the direction of the bigoted James VII., then Duke of York, and commissioner to the Scottish parlia- ment, that bundle of absurdities known by the name of the test, which was imposed without mercy upon all, especially such as lay under any suspicion of Presbyterianism. This absurd oath was refused by many of the Episcopal ministers, who relinquished their places rather than debauch their consciences by ^wearing contradictions. Some took it with ex- planations, among whom was Argyle, who added the following: that, as the parliament never meant to impose contradictory oaths, he took it as far as consistent with itself and the Protestant faith, but that lie meant not to bind or preclude himself in his station in a lawful manner from wishing or endeav- ouring any alteration which he thought of advantage to the church or state, and not repugnant to the Protestant religion and his loyalty; and this he un- derstood to be a part of his oath. This explanation he submitted to the Duke of York, who seemed to be perfectly satisfied; but he had no sooner put it in practice than he was indicted fir his explanation, as containing treason, leasing, and perjury, and, by a jury of his peers, brought in guilty of the two first charges. This was on the 13th of December, 16S1, and on the night of the 20th, fearing, as he had good reason, that his life would be taken, he made his escape out of the castle, disguised as a page, and bearing up the train of his step-daughter, .Lady Sophia Lindsay, sister to the Earl of Balcarras. On the third day after sentence of death was pro- nounced upon him, Fountainhall says, "There was a great outcry against the criminal judges and their timorous dishonesty. The Marquis of .Montrose was chancellor of this assize. Sir George Lockhart called it lucrative treason to the advantage of church and state; and admired how a man could be condemned as a traitor for saying he would endeavour all the amendment he can to the advantage of church and state.'' Even those who thought the words deserved some lesser punishment, called it diabolical alchemy, to screw them into treason. Lord Halifax told Charles himself, that he knew not the Scottish law, but the English law would not have hanged a dog for such a crime. On his escape from the castle, Argyle, by the di- rection of Mr. John Scott, minister of Hawick, rode straight to the house of Pringle of Torwoodlee, who sent his servant along with him to the house of Mr. William Veitch, who conducted him to Clapwell, in Derbyshire; where, becoming afraid from the alarm that had been everywhere given, Mr. Veitch thought it prudent to advise with Lockyer, an old Cromwellian captain, who generously offered his ser- vices to conduct Argyle safely to London; which he did, bringing him fir.it to Pattcrsea, four miles above London, to Mr. Smith's, a sugar-baker's house, whosj wife was a very pious and generous gentle- woman. They were rich, and had no children; of course they were able to do a great deal in the way of charity, without hurting themselves. They ac- quainted the lady with the earl's secret, but concealed it from her husband, and his lordship passed for an ordinary Scottish gentleman of the name of Hope. The lady, however, in a day or two sent to one of her agents in the city to provide two chambers, at a good distance from one another, where two friends of her's might be quiet and retired for a while; and Ar- gyle and Veitch were sent to town by night to the house of Mr. Holmes, the lady's agent, to be directed to their lodgings. None of them knew Holmes; but the moment Holmes came into the room which they had been shown, he took Argyle in his arms, saying, "My dear Lord Argyle, you are most welcome to me." Argyle, in astonishment, and not without some visible concern, inquired how he knew him. "I knew you," said Holmes, "since that day I took you prisoner in the Highlands, and brought you to the castle of Edin- burgh. But now we are on one side, and I will ven- ture all that is dear to me to save you." So he car- ried them to their several lodgings; those of Argyle being known to no one but Mr. Veitch and Holmes. As soon as the noise about his escape was over, Mrs. Smith brought them both out to a new house they had moved to at Brentford, Argyle passing for a Mr. Hope, and Veitch for a Captain Fabes. Here there were frequent meetings of noblemen, gentlemen, and rich merchants, with a view of devising means for preventing the nation from falling into slavery; but the whole ended in the discovery of the Rye-house Plot, which occasioned the apprehending of Mr. William Carstairs, Mr. Spence, and Baillie of Jervis- wood — the two fo.'mer of whom were put to the tor- ture, and the latter executed in the most cruel manner. Upon the appearance of the plot being discovered, Argyle went over to Holland; and Mrs. Smith, who was deep in the plot also, persuaded her husband to emigrate to that country from general motives, for he- was ignorant of the plot; and they continued to live together, taking up their abode at Utrecht. Veitch, happily, when the search was made for them in Lon- don, had departed for Scotland; and, after hiding for some time in the best manner he could, he also stole over to Holland. There he met with Monmouth, Argyle, the Earl of Melville, Lord Polwart, Tor- woodlee, James Stuart, and many others similarly situated, who all took a deep interest in the plan now formed for invading both kingdoms at the same time, Monmouth to lead the attack upon England, and Argyle that upon Scotland. "Both of them," says Veitch, who seems to have been quite familiar with the whole plan, "had great promises sent them of assistance, but it turned to nothing, and no wonder; for the one part kept not their promises, and the other followed not the measures contrived and conceited at Amsterdam, April the 17th, 16S5." The persons present at this meeting were Argyle, and his son Charles Campbell, Cochrane of Ochiltree, Hume of Polwart, Pringle of Torwoodlee, Denholm of West- shields, Hume ofBassendean, Cochrane of Waterside, Mr. George Wisheart, William Cleland, James Stuart, and Gilbert Elliot. Mr. Veitch says he brought old President Stairs to the meeting with much persuasion; and he gave bond for /Tooo to Madam Smith, whose husband was now dead; and she lent out ^"6000 or ^7000 more to Argyle and others for carrying on the enterprise. Having made all necessary arrangements, so far as was in their power, and despatched Messrs. Barclay and Veitch, Cleland and Torwoodlee, to different parts of Scotland to prepare for their reception, Ar- gyle and his company went on board their fleet of three ships, the .hum, Sophia, and David, lying off the Vlie, on the 28th of April, and, with a fair wind, set sail for Scotland, and in three days approached the Orkneys. At Kirkwall, most unfortunately, Spence, Argyle's secretary, and Blackadder, his phy- sician, went onshore, were instantly apprehended by the bishop and sent up to Edinburgh, which alarmed the government, and gave them time to prepare for the attack which they had heard of, but of which they were now certain. Sailing round to Argyle s country, his son was landed, who sent through the fiery cross, ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL 2S5 but with no great effect. Finding that they were pursued by a frigate, they put into a creek and landed their arms and stores at the old castle of Allangreg. In the meantime the Marquis of Athol came against them with a considerable force, by whom they were drawn away from the castle, leaving only 150 men to defend it iii case of an attack. Being attacked, the small garrison fled, and the whole of their provisions and stores fell into the hands of the enemy. All this was discouraging enough; but, what was worse, they were not agreed among themselves, nor was the country agreed to take part with them. The suffer- ing Presbyterians would have nothing to do with Ar- gvle, with whom they were highly offended for the part he had hitherto acted, and the declaration he emitted did not give them great hopes of that which was yet to come. In short, it was soon evident that they would be obliged to separate, and every man to shift for himself in the best manner he could. Dis- appointed in the Highlands, it was proposed to try the Lowlands; but they had wandered in the High- lands till the government forces, under Athol, Gor- don, and Dumbarton, had cut off their communica- tion with the disaffected parts of the country, and even cut them off from the possibility of escape. It was at last, however, resolved that they should march upon Glasgow; and they crossed the water of Leven three miles above Dumbarton, on the night of the 16th of [une. Marching next morning towards Kil- maronock, in the hope of finding some provisions, of which they were in absolute want, they discovered a party of horse, and stood to their arms, but the party they had observed being only a small body of horse- men not sufficiently strong to attack them, they passed on. On setting their watch the same night, they were alarmed again by a party of the king's forces. At- tempting a night march to Glasgow, they wandered into a m >ss, where they were so broken and scattered, that, in the morning there were not above 500 of them together. All hope of success was now over. Sir John Cochrane and Sir Patrick Hume crossed the Clyde with about 150 men; and Argyle refusing to follow them, marched to Muirdyke, where his troops were attacked by Lord Ross, whom they repulsed in a very gallant manner, but were under the necessity of separating shortly after. Argyle, thus left to himself, despatched Sir Duncan Campbell and two Duncan- sons, father and son, to his own country, to attempt raising new levies, and repaired himself to the house of an old servant, where he calculated upon a tem- porary asylum, but was peremptorily denied entrance. In consequence of this he crossed the Clyde, attended only by one companion. At the ford of Inchinnan they were stopped by a party of militiamen. Pul- iation, the name of Argyle's companion, used every means he could think of to save his general, who was habited as a plain countryman, and whom he passed for lii- guide. Seeing them determined to go after his guide, as he called him, he offered to surrender without a blow, provided they did not hurt the poor man who was conducting him. These terms they accepted, but did not adhere to; two of their number going alter Argyle, who, being on horseback, grap- ple! with them till one of them and himself came to the ground. He then presented his pocket-pistol, when the two retired, but other five advancing, knocked him down with their swords and seized him. When they found who it was they had made prisoner they were exceedingly sorry, but they durst not let him go. Fullaraton, perceiving the stipulati >n on which he had surrendered broken, snatched at the sword of one of them in order to take vengeance upon his perfidious opponents, but, failing in his at- tempt, he too was overpowered and made prisoner. Renfrew was the fir.it place that was honoured with the presence of this noble captive; whence, on the 20th of June, he was led in triumph into Edinburgh. The order of the council was particular and peremp- tory, that he should be led bareheaded in the midst of Graham's guards, with his hands tied behind his back, and preceded by the common hangman; and the more to expose him to the insults of the mob, it was specially directed that he should be led to the castle, which was to be the place of his confinement, by a circuitous route. All this, however, only served to display more strongly the heroic dignity, the meek- ness, the patience, and the unconquerable fortitude that animated their unfortunate victim; and it tended in no small degree to hasten that catastrophe which all this studied severity was intended to avert. The Scottish parliament on the nth of June sent an ad- dress to the king; wherein, after commending his majesty in their usual manner for his immeasurable gifts of prudence, courage, and conduct, and loading Argyle, whom they style an hereditary traitor, with every species of abuse, and with every crime, par- ticularly that of ingratitude for the favours which he had received, as well from his majesty as from his predecessor, they implore his majesty to show him no favour, and that his family, the heritors, the preachers, Sec, who have joined him, may for ever be declared incapable of mercy, or of bearing any honour or estate in the kingdom, and all subjects discharged under the pains of treason, to intercede for them in any manner of way. Accordingly, the fol- lowing letter, with the royal signature, and counter- signed by Lord Milford, secretary of state for Scot- land, was despatched to the council at Edinburgh, and by them entered and registered on the 29th of June. "Whereas, the late Earl of Argyle is, by the providence of God, fallen into our power, it is our will and pleasure that you take all ways to know from him those things which concern our govern- ment most; as, his assisters with men, arms, and money, — his associates and correspondents, — his de- signs. Sec. ; but this must be done so as no time may be lost in bringing him to condign punishment, by causing him to be denounced as a traitor within the space of three days after this shall come to your hands, an account of which, with what he shall con- fess, you shall send immediately to our secretaries, for which this shall be your warrant." James, who. while he was viceroy in Scotland, attended the in- fliction of torture upon the unhappy victims of hi, tyranny, and frequently called for another touch. watching, at the same time, the unhappy victim with the eager curiosity of a philosophical experimenter. evidently, by this letter, intended that it should have been applied to Argyle. "It is our will and pleasure that you take all ways to know from him." 1 ; . y certain. That they had receivi ' - ' told, and of their readiness to obe> th n many proofs; yet, when exam itc ly Queensberry, he gave no ini ■'■ ' res; to his associates in 1 oncerted hi- design w ith an;, persons m S ■ . Ian !: but he avowe 11 . ; with the u! were founded on the crueltv of the a Im -.-.L-t'.v.tion, an : such a uis- 286 ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL SIR ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL position in the people to revolt as he conceived to be the natural consequence of oppression. He owned, at the same time, that he had laid too much weight upon this principle. Writing also to a friend, just before his examination, he has these words: "What may have been discovered from any paper that may have been taken, he knows not. Otherwise, he has named none to their disadvan- tage." Perhaps it was to atone for their neglect with regard to the torture, that the council ordered his execution on the very next day, although they had three to choose upon; and, to make the triumph of injustice complete, it was ordered upon the in- iquitous sentence of 16S2. The warning was short, but it must have been, in some degree, anticipated; and he received it with the most perfect composure. He possessed a faith full of assurance that triumphed over all his afflictions, and a hope that breathed im- mortality. The morning of his execution was spent in religious exercises and in writing short notices to friends. He had his dinner before he left the castle, at the usual hour, at which he discoursed with those that were along with Mr. Charteris and others with cheerful and becoming gravity. After dinner he retired, as was his custom, to his bedchamber, where it is re- corded he slept quietly for about a quarter of an hour. While he was in bed one of the members of the council came and wished to speak with him. Being told that the earl was asleep, and had left orders not to be disturbed, he seemed to think that it was only a shift to avoid further questionings, and the door being thrown open, he beheld, in a sweet and tranquil slumber, the man who, by the doom of himself and his fellows, was to die within the space of two short hours. Struck with the sight, he left the castle with the utmost precipitation, and entering the house of a friend that lived near by, threw him- self on the first bed that presented itself. His friend naturally concluding that he was ill, offered him some wine, which he refused, saying, "No, no, that will not help me; I have been at Argyle, and saw him sleeping as pleasantly as ever man did, but as for me — ." The name of the person to whom this anecdote relates is not mentioned, but Wodrow says he had it from the most unquestionable authority. After his short repose Argyle was brought to the high council-house, from which is dated the letter to his wife, and thence to the place of execution. On the scaffold he discoursed with Mr. Annand, a minister appointed by the government to attend him, and with Mr. Charteris, both of whom he desired to pray for him. He then prayed himself with great fervency. The speech which he made was every way worthy of his character — full of fortitude, mildness, and charity. He offered his prayers to God for the three kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and that an end might be speedily put to their present trials. Hav- ing then asked pardon for his own failings, both of God and man, he would have concluded, but being reminded that he had said nothing of the royal family, he prayed that there never might be wanting one in it to support the Protestant religion; and if any of them had swerved from the true faith, he prayed that God might turn their hearts, but at any rate to save his people from their machinations. Turning round, he said, "Gentlemen, 1 pray you do not misconstruct my behaviour this day. I freely forgive all men their wrongs and injuries done against me, as I desire to be forgiven of God." Mr. Annand said, "This gentleman dies a 1'rotcstant;" when he- stepped forward and said, "I die not only a Protes- tant, but with a heart-hatred of Popery, Prelacy, and all superstition whatsomever." He then embraced his friends, gave some tokens of remembrance to his son-in-law, Lord Maitland, for his daughter and grandchildren, stripped himself of part of his ap- parel, of which he likewise made presents, and lay- ing his head upon the block, repeated thrice, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit," when he gave the signal, and his head was severed from his body. Thus died Archibald Campbell, Earl of Argyle, on the 30th of June, 1685, of whom it has been said, "Let him be weighed never so scrupulously, and in the nicest scales, he will not be found in a single instance want- ing in the charity of a Christian, the firmness and benevolence of a patriot, nor the integrity and fidelity of a man of honour." CAMPBELL, Sir Archibald, Bart., G.C.B., &c, was a son of Archibald Campbell, lieutenant in the army, by his wife, Margaret, daughter of Captain James Small. Having taken up the military pro- fession like a family inheritance, Archibald entered the army in 1787, with the rank of ensign, in con- sequence of having raised twenty recruits for the service. Early in the following year he embarked with his regiment, the 77th, for India, and was em- ployed in active service in the successful campaign against Tippoo Sultaun, and upon the coast of Malabar in 1790. In the following year he rose to the rank of lieutenant and adjutant, and served in the campaigns of the Mysore, and the first siege of Seringapatam. In 1795 he accompanied his regi- ment in the reduction of the Dutch garrison of Cochin and its dependencies on the coast of Malabar; and in 1796 he was employed in the successful enter- prise that reduced the island of Ceylon. After various changes connected with these leading events in our Indian warfare, he served as major of brigade to the European brigade of the Bombay army in 1799, and was present at the battle of Saduceer and the capture of Seringapatam. Having procured during this year, by purchase, the rank of captain in the 67th regiment, he exchanged into the 88th, that he might continue upon foreign service, as the last- mentioned corps had just arrived in India; but he was disappointed in his purpose by ill health, which compelled him, in 1S01, to return home. After having been employed in England chiefly in the recruiting service, and upon the staff of the southern district as major of brigade, he was subse- quently appointed major in the 6th battalion of re- serve, and was stationed in Guernsey till 1805, when he joined the 71st regiment, with which he continued in Scotland and Ireland until 1S08: he then joined the 1st battalion on its embarkation for Portugal. Here Major Campbell saw service such as he had not witnessed in India, having been present in the battles of Rolica and Vimeira, as well as in the dis- astrous campaign in Spain under Sir John Moore, and the battle of Corunna. In Eebruary, 1809, he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and appointed to assist Marshal Beresford in organizing and disciplining the Portuguese army. This was a service in which Colonel Campbell was associated with some of the best officers of the British army, and the value of their endeavours was well attested by the high state of efficiency to which the Portuguese soldiers were brought, and the important aid they rendered during the Peninsular war. In this auxiliary army Campbell rose to the rank of full colonel, and in iSll to that of brigadier-general, and was present at the battles of Husaco, Albuera, Vittoria, the Pyrenees, the Nivelle, and the jS'ive, and several sieges, especially that of Badajoz. After having thus passed through the brunt of the war in the Peninsula and south of E ranee, he was appointed to the rank SIR ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL COLIN CAMPBELL. 287 of major-general by the Prince Regent of Portugal in 1813, and to the command of the Lisbon division of the Portuguese army in 1816. In this capacity he continued till 1S20, when the revolution of Portugal restored him to the service of his own country. He had offered, as soon as the insurrectionary movement commenced, and during the absence of Marshal Beresford, to march with his division and quell the rising at Oporto; but in consequence of the refusal of the regency, he gave in his resignation and returned to England. General Campbell, now a well-tried and war- worn veteran, might, like many of his brethren of the Peninsular campaigns, have fought over his Indian and European battles at a peaceful fireside at home, and "showed how fields were won" to the rising generation whom their country was about to summon into action. But the best and most im- portant part of his military career was still to come, and in India, where he had first learned the profes- sion of arms. Not long after his return to England, he joined the 38th regiment, of which he was ap- pointed colonel, at the Cape, and proceeded with it to India, whither it had been ordered. On arriving in India he was stationed at Berhampore, but was soon appointed by Sir E. Paget to take the com- mand of the expedition fitted out against the Burmese. Of all the many nations of India, these people were reckoned among the bravest and most formidable; and their valour had already been shown in several severe repulses which they had given to the British troops with whom they had but lately come in contact. The great aim of the expedition which Genera] Campbell commanded was to take pos- 1 of Rangoon, the chief seaport of Burmah; and for this quarter he set sail, and anchored within the bar off the town on the loth of May, 1823. The landing and capture of Rangoon were effected in twenty minutes with scarcely any resistance. A defensive war of stockades on the part of the Burmese followed, which they maintained with much spirit, and occasionally with success, until the close of the year, when they were emboldened to abandon their guerilla warfare, fir which their country was highly favourable, for the precarious chances of a battle. They accordingly assembled a large army of between 50,000 and Co, 000 strong, with 300 pieces of cannon, and came down upon the British, who did not exceed 6000. This was what Campbell desired; the enemy were now before him in a fair field, instead of being entrenched behind stockades, or in the jungle, where they could not be reached except at great disadvan- tage. He saw at once that their wings were too far asunder, and he resolved to encounter them separately and in quick succession. His plan was effectual; the enemy thus attacked were defeated in detail, and so completely, that they tied in wild disorder, leav- ing behind them their artillery and throwing away their muskets. On the following day this crowd of fugitives was rallied, and incorporated with a new Burmese army that advanced to the scene of action; but Campbell defeated them in a second encounter that was as successful as the first. In these two en- gagements the Burmese sustained a loss of more than 5000 men, while that ol the British was only 30 killed and 230 wounded. Undismayed, however, by- such disasters, the enemy rallied lor a third attempt, and this time were entrenched to the number of 20,000 behind a strong -• '. le. Here they were attacked by ( leneral ( 'ampbell, and r nite 1 w ith such slaughter, that the war, for the time at least, was terminated by the submission of Burmah and the occupation of Rangoon, hew of our Indian cam- paigns were more glorious, if we take into account the obstacles which Campbell had to overcome, the smallness of his force as compared with that of the enemy, and the three decisive victories which he gained in such rapid succession. A full sense of his merit was manifested both in India and at home by the thanks of the governor-general in council and the two houses of the British Parliament, while the court of East India directors voted him a gold medal and a pension of /1000 per annum for life as the reward of his important services. At the close of the Burmese war General Campbell was appointed commander of the forces in the pro- vinces on the coast of Tenasserim, which the enemy had ceded, and civil commissioner in the Company's affairs in relation to the kingdoms of Burmah and Siam. But the fatigues of the campaign had so permanently affected his health, that he was com- pelled to resign his command and return to England in 1829. In the spring of 1831 he was appointed lieutenant-governor of New Brunswick, and in this province he continued nearly six years, conducting the administration of its affairs not only to the satis- faction of the home government, but that of the colonists. In 1839 he was offered the appointment of commander-in-chief in Bombay, which he accepted, such an office being, of all others, the most congenial to his wishes; but almost immediately after, a fresh attack of ill health obliged him to resign it. After a few years of retirement from active life, which the increasing infirmities of old age rendered neces-ary, he died at Edinburgh on the 6th of October, 1843. The value of Sir Archibald Campbell's military services, and especially those in India, were justly and gratefully appreciated. Besides his merited rise in the service, which went steadily onward, he was invested with the Portuguese order of the Tower and Sword in 1813; knighted by the prince-regent, and appointed aide-de-camp to his royal highness in 1S14; appointed a Knight Commander of the Bath in 1815, and G.C.B. in 1S27; and in 1S31 created a baronet of the United Kingdom. He was also, a; various times, presented with the freedom of the cities of Perth, Strabane, and Cork. Sir Archibald Campbell married Miss Helen Macdonald of C Perthshire, by whom he had two sons and three daughters. CAMPBELL. Colin (Lord Clyde). Thisgallanl soldier and skilful leader, who established for him- self so high a reputation in our recent wars in the Crimea and India, was born in Glasgow, October 20. 1792. I lis origin was sufficiently humble, his father. John M 'Liver, a native of Mull, 1 more than a working cabinet-maker in that city. While he thus had only a mechanic for his father, i: was fortunate fir Colin that his mother was of r better grade; her maiden name was < she was the daughter of a small \ roj ri island of May. She had also sixers in goo 1 circum- stances living in Glasgow, who assisted in 1 r a suitable education for the future hei ■. :.>: . ' the high-school of Glasgow, and military academy in Gosport. d'i, - n ; :. <k awaiting him would only be to fight all his battles o'er again in description amidst the festive society of his friends, or over the comforts of his fireside. But scarcely had he begun to rot after the excitement of the Crimean war, w hen a still more important event summoned him once more into the field. It was the terrible Indian mutiny of 1S57, by which the lo>s of our empire in the East was regarded as all but certain. The natives of its many kingdoms had broke out into open re- bellion; the sepoys, whom we had trained to war. had banded themselves against their instructors; ami while General Anson, the commander of the Dritidi forces in the East, had sunk and died under d hi- culties too great for him to surmount, our Ind generals, with their armies reduced to com] were everywhere making head against the univer>a! tide, and attempting with scanty mean- to >u] pres>, or at least to hold in check, the overwhelming masse* of the insurgents. In this difficulty all eve> at !. me were turned upon Sir Ci '. ' 11; ii was felt that he and he alone was adequate f ■■: such acri? s: ai satisfaction was universal that hailed h> . ; by our government to be commander-in-chid of the British armies in India. Hereadih res; mdedtothis new call of duty, and in Ies> than twenty-four hours after his appointment he had left 1 ' -way 19 290 COLIN CAMPBELL. to the East. Travelling by express, he was in time for the Indian mail at Marseilles, and arrived in Calcutta on the 29th of August, only thirty-one days after he had left London, so that he was the first to bring the tidings of his own appointment and arrival. The great interest of the Indian war had now concentrated around Lucknow. That important city was in possession of the rebels, while a small military force of British soldiers, with a crowd of civilians, women and children, had taken refuge within the residency, which the rebels had closely invested, and would soon have reduced, but for the opportune arrival of General Havelock, who, after a series of victories scarcely paralleled in Indian warfare, had broke through Lucknow, and entered the residency. But this diversion, instead of raising the siege, was only sufficient to reinforce the all but overpowered garrison, and protract the resistance of the residency under the able superintendence of Outram and Havelock, who the while were cheered by the arrival of Sir Colin in India, and the prospect of his coming to their relief. This, however, could not be done without the arrival of reinforcements from England, so that it was not until the 12th of November that he could set out upon this critical enterprise. It was one that demanded consummate judgment; for a single false step or disaster in the attempt would have fearfully imperilled the loss of our only Indian army, and our hold of India. Setting out from Cawnpore, where he had concen- trated his forces, he advanced upon the Alumbagh, an isolated building with grounds and inclosures, about three miles from the residency to the south- east of Lucknow, which Havelock had captured and garrisoned in his approach to the city. He reached the Alumbagh in the evening after a sharp attack of the rebels upon his vanguard, in which they were routed with the loss of their guns; after which the question was to be settled how he should reach the residency and raise the siege. This was a question of no small difficulty, con- sidering the smallness of his force, and the necessity of preserving it unbroken for the further necessities of the campaign. Lucknow, also, a city of great extent, was held by a numerous army of rebels, who occupied the whole of it, while every street was defended, and every house loopholed and converted into a fortress, so that to approach the residency by the direct road through the city, would have been to march through a fire in which half of his army would have been swept away. Sir Colin wisely resolved to adopt a more circuitous but safer route, by making a detour to the right, forcing his way through the park of the ancient Dilkoosha palace, and through the Martiniere, an establishment for the education of Europeans and half-castes, crossing the canal on the east side of Lucknow, and then reach- ing the residency by a deflection round the north- east corner of the city. This plan, the perfection of caution, was executed in all its parts with not less courage and daring. Ordering his soldiers to march without baggage, and with three days' provision in their haversacks, and reinforcing his troops by fresh companies from the garrison at the Alumbagh, and leaving there instead of- them the 75111 regiment, that had been exhausted by its previous exertions, he commenced his route for the residency on the 14th of November, and advanced upon Dilkoosha. As soon as they reached the park, they were met by a heavy fire and desperate resistance from the rebels; but, after a fight of two hours, the British drove them first from the Dilkoosha park, and then from the Martiniere, and pursued them across the canal. This was but the first step in the path of difficulty, and the next was to assail and carry the Secunder Bagh, a plantation north of the canal, having a high wall of strong masonry, 120 yards square, occupied by the rebels in strong force, and loopholed all round; while only a hundred yards distant was a village, the houses of which were also loopholed, and occupied by mutinous sepoys in great numbers. On the morning of the 16th the British advanced to the attack; but no sooner had the head of the column advanced up the lane to the left of the Secunder Bagh, than a quick and heavy fire was opened upon it, which was continued on both sides for an hour and a half without intermission. It was at last deter- mined to carry it by storm through a small breach that had been made in the wall, and this desperate service was gallantly performed by the remainder of the Highlanders, the 53d regiment, the 4th Punjab infantry, and a battalion of detachments from various regiments; and the desperate nature of the enemy's resistance may be estimated by the fact, that more than 2000 of their slain were found within the walls. After the storming of the Secunder Bagh, it was necessary to carry the Shah Nujjeef, a domed mos- que which the enemy had converted into a strong fortress by blocking up the entrance to the building with regular masonry, and piercing the walls with loopholes, while the defences of the garden were also filled with soldiers. This formidable position was stormed after a heavy cannonade of three hours from the naval brigade conducted by Captain Peel, sup- ported by the 93d regiment of Highlanders, and a battalion of detachments under Major Barnston. However briefly these successes are stated, the difficulties they presented, and the resistance they offered, it would not be easy to estimate. The ground thus won in the onward advance to the resi- dency was every inch contested with a pertinacity which Sir Colin, now a gray-haired veteran, and trained in the wars of the Peninsula, had seldom witnessed, and he was obliged to bring up the same men over and over again to fresh attacks before the sepoys would give way. These sepoys indeed were rebels who had proved false to their rulers and their military allegiance, and knowing what they had to expect if conquered, they fought with the despera- tion of fiends. It was only by the highest kind of courage and endurance that such resistance could be overcome; and nobly did this small army of British soldiers vindicate their established reputation. "The storming of the Secunder Bagh and the Shah Nujjeef," said Campbell in his order of the day, "has never been surpassed in daring, and the success of it was most brilliant and complete." No further obstacle interposed between the besieged garrison and their countrymen coming to their aid, except a mess-house of considerable size defended by a ditch and a loopholed mud wall; and this was attacked and stormed on the following day after an hour of desperate conflict. And now the communication be- tween the victorious army and the residency was so complete, that Outram and Havelock came out to welcome Sir Colin before the mess-house was carried. It was a proud moment to the latter when he saw the relief of the garrison accomplished, after so long a period of agonizing suspense, and so many de- sperate conflicts. What would the people in Eng- land say of him after such a wonderful achievement ? The cares of Sir Colin Campbell, however, were not ended when he stood as a conqueror within the walls of the residency. Lucknow was still in the hands of the rebels, who might at any time return to the attack, and the relief of the garrison could only be temporary so long as the helpless crowd that COLIN CAMPBELL. 291 composed so large a portion of it were still immured in the building. The place must not only be evacuated, but the women, the children, the sick, and the wounded removed, and protected upon a perilous retreat. They must be conveyed away by easy stages, and sheltered from the^ fire of the maddened enemy. A retreat of this kind might be more difficult and dangerous than the advance itself had proved. To accomplish such a delicate move- ment, Sir Colin opened a vigorous cannonade upon the Kaiserbagh or king's palace in Lucknow, so that the rebels in the city might think they were about to be attacked in earnest, and while their attention was thus withdrawn, he formed a line of posts on the left rear of his position sufficiently strong to resist the enemy's attacks. While the rebels were thus occupied with the cannonade upon Lucknow, and preparing to resist an attempt to storm the city, the ladies, their families, and the invalids were silently conveyed along the line of posts on the night of the 22cl of November, and after them the garrison, the retreat being protected by judicious arrangements of the army — and to close the whole, Sir Colin him- self went out with the last line of infantry and guns, as the body most likely to be attacked, and with which he intended to crush the enemy if they dared to follow up his piquets. These precautions were indeed necessary, as the only line of retreat lay through a long and crooked line; but, strange to tell, no interruption was offered: still expecting an attack on Lucknow, the rebels opened a fire upon the residency, and continued it for hours after the place was evacuated. Like a well-organized machine, every part of this retreating army moved according to appointment, and on the 23d the whole of the troops and their helpless convoy, comprising about 2000 souls, reached Dilkoosha in safety. The ultimate destination of this retreat was Cawn- pore, now in possession of the British, and where the safety of the invalids might in some measure be secure; but here an unexpected event had occurred which disturbed Sir Colin's calculations. General Windham, who occupied its military cantonments, had been attacked by an overwhelming force of the rebels, and driven out of the city into his intrench- ments, where he was closely besieged, and in the utmost danger. The first intimation which Sir Colin received of the danger in his march to Cawnpore, was from a sound of heavy firing in that direction; but on continuing his march on the following day, messenger after messenger came to him with tidings of Windham's disaster, upon which he hastened to the scene of action. On seeing that Cawnpore was in possession of the enemy, his first care was for the wounded, sick, and non-combatants from the resi- dency, and these he managed to convey across the Ganges on their way to Allahabad — a tedious and dangerous operation which occupied several days, and was not fully effected until the 3d of December. Being thus lightened for action, and having com- pleted his arrangements for an attack, he advanced on the 6th of 1 >ecember against the enemy, who were 25.000 strong, and had thirty-six guns — and he gave them such a defeat that they were pursued nearly fourteen miles, leaving behind them all their guns and ammunitii m. After this the dispositions of Sir Colin for the suppression of the rebellion were so judicious, that at the close of the year L 1 S5 7 J the final issue could be no longer doubtful. In the greater part of the country the British ascendency was restored. and the rebels, instead of mustering armies, could only continue the war in light predator}' bands, winch were crushed as often a 3 they were en- countered. Sir Colin Campbell's name was one of dread to the natives, who trembled at the thought of his invariable success, and believed him to be invincible. The great capital and centre of the rebellion, however, still continued to Ix; Lucknow, and upon this the bands of mutineers were converging from every quarter, as if a fatality brought them to- gether that they might be involved in a common doom. Nor was that doom long delayed. After repairing the effects of General Windham's disaster, and estab- lishing the British authority in Cawnpore, Sir Colin Campbell made preparations for ending the rebellion by the capture of Lucknow. The troops employed over the wide extent of country in putting down the rebels were moved to Lucknow as their place of united action; and on the 2d of March, 1858, the siege was commenced by the capture of the Dilkoosha pa- lace. All the fortified places in the suburbs were suc- cessively attacked, stormed, and occupied, and on the 19th everything was in readiness foracombined attack upon the city itself. Here, although the resistance- was terrible, the result could not be doubtful, and in a short time Lucknow, the queen of Indian cities. was stormed and given up to plunder, while such of the rebels as had the good fortune to escape from its walls, were fleeing in thousands along the neighbour- ing highways. The punishment of the guilty city, which had been merited by its crimes, was now com- plete, as the following short description by an eye- witness will testify: — "Those stately buildings, which had never before been entered by European foot except by a commissioner of Oudh on a state day, were now open to the common soldier, and to the poorest camp follower of our army. How their splendours vanished like snow in sunshine ! The destruction around one, the shouting, the smashing noises, the yells of the Sikhs and natives, were oppressive. 1 was glad to get away just as our mortars began to thunder away at the enemy's works again. . . . It was late in the evening when we returned to camp, through roads thronged with at least 20,000 camp followers, all staggering under loads of plunder — the most extraordinary and indescribable spectacle I ever beheld — Coolies, syces, kitmutgars, dhooly bearers. Sikhs, grass-cutters, a flood of men covered with clothing not their own, carrying on heads and shoulders looking-glasses, mirrors, pictures, brass- pots, swords, firelocks, rich shawls, scarfs, em- broidered dresses, all the 'loot' of ransacked palaces. The noise, the dust, the shouting, the excitement were almost beyond endurance. Lucknow was borne away piecemeal to camp, and the wild Ghoorkas and Sikhs, with open months and glaring eye.-, burn- ing with haste to get rich, were contending fiercely against the current as they sought to get to the sources of such unexpected wealth."' After the fall of Lucknow little more remained to be done except to tread down and extinguish the smouldering embers of rebellion, lest they sin uld rekindle a new flame, and to this task Sir Colin ad- dressed himself with his wonted resolution and per- severance. He therefore again took the held on the 2d of November for a winter campaign, and advanced against a jungle fort lying midway between the rivers Gogra and Sye, and occupied by an Oudh chid of great power and resources; but instead ot resisting, the chief yielded his fortress at the first summ ns : surrender.' On the I2th Sir Colin marched to Shunkerpore. where there was another jungle fort held by an Oudh chief. Bainie Mudhoo. who seemed disposed to try the fortune of war; place being invested, he stole 1 it it 1 dl his troops, and escaped beyond pursuit. Other encoun- 292 COLIN CAMPBELL GEORGE CAMPBELL. ters followed with the rebellious chiefs of the revolted province of Oudh, and in every instance Campbell was successful, while the rebels were either compelled to surrender or save themselves by flight. It was a campaign so rapidly conducted and successfully fin- ished, that before the year had ended Sir Colin was enabled to announce that the last rallying of the mutiny in Oudh had been suppressed — that "the re- sistance of 1 50,000 armed men had been subdued with a very moderate loss to her majesty's troops, and the most merciful forbearance towards the misguided enemy" — that "the last remnant of the mutineers and insurgents has been hopelessly driven across the mountains which form the barrier between the kingdom of Nepaul and her majesty's empire of Hindostan." These were joyful tidings for Britain, which they were not long in reaching, and in proportion to the dread of losing our empire in the East, was the exulta- tion at its entire recovery. It was also felt that al- though much was owing to those gallant chiefs who had borne the first brunt of so unequal an encounter, and whose victories had raised it to a conflict on equal terms — yet that it was the rare combination of prudence and valour possessed by Sir Colin Camp- bell that had turned the scale, restored our Indian ascendancy, and established our rule in India more securely than ever. Nor was it long before these grateful feelings had an appropriate outlet. The conqueror of Lucknow and the Indian mutiny was, in August 16, 1858, created a peer, and as he had not a foot of land of his own on which to rest his designation, he was invested with the title of Baron Clyde of Clydesdale, from the name of the river on the banks of which he had been born. During the same year he was promoted to the rank of full general. In 1859 he received the thanks of both houses of parliament, and had a pension of ^2000 assigned to him. In 1861 he was nominated a Knight of the Star of India, and in November, 1862, on the occa- sion of the Prince of Wales having attained his majority, he was promoted to the highest grade of his profession, that of a field-marshal of the army. As there was no further work for him to accomplish, the veteran retired into private life universally hon- oured and beloved. His appearance at his final return from India is thus described in the leading journal of the day, and the correctness of the sketch can still speak to the hearts of the living generation: "In person Lord Clyde was well knit, symmetrical, and graceful; but of late years his shoulders became somewhat bowed, though he lost little of the activity which was remarkable in so old a man. To the last his teeth remained full and firm in the great square jaws, and his eye pierced the distance with all the force of his youthful vision. His crisp gray locks still stood close and thick, curling over the head and above the wrinkled brow, and there were few external signs of the decay of nature which was, no doubt, going on within, accelerated by so many wounds, such fevers, such relentless exacting service. When he so willed it, he could throw into his manner and conversation such a wondrous charm of simplicity and vivacity as fascinated those over whom it was exerted, and women admired and men were delighted with the courteous, polished, gallant old soldier." After al- luding to his patriotism, his attachment to the duties of his profession, and his uncomplaining devotedness to these through years of tardy promotion or un- merited neglect, the same writer thus continues the portraiture of his moral character: — "Looking at his whole career, Lord Clyde was a remarkable instance of the way in which sterling qualities of head and heart may win their way even in the ranks of the British army. We are accustomed to pride ourselves on the fact that the highest honours of the two learned professions are open to the attain- ment of the humblest Englishman; but there is a prejudice, not perhaps unfounded, that it is otherwise in the army, and that money or interest, or both, are essential to high military rank. Yet Lord Clyde commenced his service as unassisted by wealth or friends as the most unknown and penniless barrister or curate. Nor did he owe his ultimate reputation and success to the opportunity for any very extra- ordinary services. He rose by the mere force of sterling ability, complete knowledge of his profession, sound sense, high honour, and an honest, industrious, and laborious performance of duty. These qualities, alone and unaided, made him a field-marshal, a member of the most distinguished orders in Europe, and raised him to the English peerage. He had to wait long — too long, it is true— and often had reason for just indignation at undeserved neglect; but his perfect modesty kept him true to his work, and gave opportunity for his real value to compel his rise. Perhaps he owed as much to the qualities of his heart as to those of his head and his will. The positions he won are hardly open to equal abilities if marred by an impracticable or ungenerous nature. But men will rarely refuse to recognize true talent when its force is softened by modesty, and its claims made welcome by unselfishness. A merely personal ambition in Sir Colin Campbell might have met with the angry repulse of proud or interested feelings. But his nature was so retiring, and his modesty so complete, that he excited no personal envy or jealousy. His rise was felt to be simply the natural recognition of talents which the country could not spare; and, at the same time, his entire generosity prevented his retaining any grudge at past disappointments, and made him always ready to serve others whenever and wherever he was wanted." It was when he had thus ended his work and shown his worth, and when the admiration and gratitude of his country were at their height, that Lord Clyde passed away. His decease occurred in August 14, 1863, when he was in the seventy-first year of his age, and by his death his title became extinct, as he had never been married. His remains were interred in Westminster Abbey, not far from the grave in which Sir James Outram, his friend and companion in arms, had recently been buried; and although, with the unostentatious simplicity that marked his character, he had wished that his funeral should be a private one, it was attended by the carriages of the royal family, and by a long train of distinguished mourners, the friends and companions of the de- ceased. CAMPBELL, Dr. George, an eminent theolo- gical writer, was born on Christmas day, 1 7 19. His father was the Rev. Colin Campbell, one of tlie ministers of Aberdeen, a man whose simplicity and integrity of character were well known through- out the country, and the cause of his being held in general esteem. While the theological sentiments of this respectable person were perfectly orthodox, his style of preaching was very peculiar: it no doubt partook of the fashion of the times, but he seems to have also had a singular taste of his own. Dr. Campbell frequently spoke of his father; and though his connection with so excellent a man afforded him great pleasure, he sometimes amused himself and his friends by repeating anecdotes respecting the oddity of his conceits in preaching. He delighted much in making the heads and particulars of his discourses begin with the same letter of the alpha- GEORGE CAMPBELL. 293 bet. Some very curious examples were in the pos- session of his son, which he related with great good humour, and which no one enjoyed more than him- self. He had followed the fortunes and adhered to the principles of the Argyle family. He was therefore a decided Whig, and was very active in promoting, in 1 7 15, among his parishioners, the cause of the Hanoverian succession, and in opposing the powerful interest of the numerous Tory families in Aberdeen. This worthy man died suddenly, on the 27th of August, 1728, leaving a widow, with three sons and three daughters. The subject of this memoir was the youngest of the sons. The grammar-school of Aberdeen has long main- tained a high rank among the Scottish seminaries; and it now enjoyed more than its usual reputation from the connection of Mr. Alexander Malcolm, the author of by far the most extensive and philosophical system of arithmetic in the English language, besides an excellent treatise on music. Such a man pro- duces a strong sensation wherever the sphere of his exertions happens to be, but in a provincial town like Aberdeen, where almost all the youth are his pupils, the impression he makes is naturally much greater. George Campbell, though said to have been a lively and idle, rather than a studious boy, made a respectable appearance in this school. He was afterwards enrolled a member of Marischal College, anil went through the common course. A senior brother, whose name was Colin, had been devoted to the church, and George therefore pro- posed to study law. He was bound apprentice to Mr. Stronach, W.S., Edinburgh, and regularly served the stipulated time. But he does not seem to have entered upon this line of life with any ardour. Before he had finished his apprenticeship, his re- solutions were fixed for another profession, and in 1 741 he attended the prelections of Professor Goldie, who then held the theological chair in the Edinburgh university. The celebrated Dr. Blair began about this time, as minister of the Canongate, to attract public attention by his discourses; and Campbell be- came a devoted admirer of the style of that great divine, with whom he, at the same time, formed an intimate personal friendship. At the conclusion of his apprenticeship, Mr. Camp- bell returned to Aberdeen, and concluded his educa- tion as a clergyman in the divinity halls of that uni- versity. His superior intellect was now marked among his fellows, and he became the leader of a debating society which was instituted by them in 1742, under the name of the Theological Club. Being licensed in 1746, he soon attracted attention by his discourses; yet in 1747 he was an unsuccess- ful candidate for the church of Fordoun, in the Mearns. When his reputation had acquired more consistency, he was presented to the church of Banchory Tcrnan, a few miles from Aberdeen, under circumstances of a somewhat extraordinary nature. Neither the patron nor those who recom- mended Campbell were aware of his Christian name. It therefore happened that Colin, his elder brother, a man of great worih, but comparatively slender abilities, was applied to, and invited to preach at Banchory, as a prelude to his obtaining the living. Colin's public exhibitions did not equal the expectations which had been formed; and, in the course of conversation, the sagacity of the patron, Sir Alexander Burnett, discovered that it was his brother whose recommendations had been so ample. George Campbell was afterwards invited, and the satisfaction which he gave insured success, for he was ordained minister of that parish June 2, 1746. He was not lony in this situa- tion when lie married a young lady of the name of Farquharson. Though Mr. Campbell did not, at this early period of his life, give token of that power of intense ap- plication which he manifested in his later years, it is supposed that he formed, in the solitude of Ban- chory, the original ideas of all his great works. He here composed the most important parts of his Philosophy of Rhetoric. Tin-, admirable and truly classical work, in which the laws of elegant com- position and just criticism are laid down with sin- gular taste and perspicuity, originally formed a series of detached essays, and contains, with a few excep- tions, the outlines of all the works he ever published. At this time also he began his great work, the Translation of the Gospels; 1 though it is probable that he did not make much progress until his pro- fessional duties directed his attention more forcibly to the same subject. His character as a country clergyman was established in a very short time. The amiable simplicity of his manners, the integrity and propriety of his behaviour, conjoined with his extensive knowledge, and the general esteem in which he was held by literary men, very soon brought him into notice. He was consequently induced to relinquish his charge in the country, and comply with the invitation of the magistrates of Aberdeen, to take charge of one of the quarters of that city. Here he derived great advantage from the society of literary men, and the opportunity of consulting public libraries. Mr. Campbell joined the Literary Society of Aberdeen, which had been formed in the year 1758, and which comprehended many men afterwards eminent in literature and philosophy. The subjects discussed in this associa- tion were not confined to those coming strictly within the category of the belles lettres; all the different branches of philosophy were included in its com- prehensive range. Campbell took a very active part in the business of the society, and delivered in it the greater part of his Philosophy of Rhetoric. Principal Pollock of Marischal College died in 1759, and it was supposed at the time that the chance of succeeding him was confined to two gentlemen possessed of all the local influence which in such cases generally insures success. Mr. Campbell, who was ambitious of obtaining the situation, resolved to lay his pretensions before the Duke of Argyle, who for many years had dispensed the government patronage of Scotland. It happened that one of Mr. Campbell's ancestors, his grandfather or great- grandfather, had held the basket into which the Marquis of Argyle's head fell when he was beheaded. Mr. Campbell hinted at this in the letter he ad- dressed to his grace, and the result was his appoint- ment to the vacant place. Shortly after this Mr. Campbell received the degree of Doctor of Divinity from King's College, Aberdeen; and in 1763 he published his celebrated Treatise on Miracles, in answer to what was advanced on that subject by David Hume; a work which has been justly characterized as one of the most acute and convincing treatises that has ever appeared upon the subject. A condensed view oi the respective 1 When Mr. Alexander Fra r Tv.ler : Woodhouselee pul i Translation, a corresponded •* \: : Campbell, in conseq ' ' - ' the ideas contained in •' acknowledgment from a short tune previously. It « lished by Mr. I \ : reality the result I be. '.inie thoroughly satisfied, and a war: between the parties. 294 GEORGE CAMPBELL. arguments of these two philosophers, on one of the most interesting points connected with revealed religion, is thus given by the ingenious William Smellie, in the first edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica, 'under the article "Abridgment:" — Mr. Hume argues, "That experience, which in some things is variable, in others uniform, is our only guide in reasoning concerning matters of fact. A variable experience gives rise to probability only; a uniform experience amounts to a proof. Our belief of any fact from the testimony of eye-witnesses is derived from no other principle than our experi- ence in the veracity of human testimony. If the fact attested be miraculous, here arises a contest of two opposite experiences, or proof against proof. Now, a miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and unalterable experience has estab- lished these laws, the proof against a miracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as complete as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined; and, if so, it is an undeniable consequence, that it cannot be surmounted by any proof whatever de- rived from human testimony.'' Dr. Campbell, in his answer, aims at showing the fallacy of Mr. Hume's argument by another single position. He argues, "That the evidence arising from human testimony is not solely derived from experience ; on the contrary, testimony hath a natural influence on belief, antecedent to experience. The early and unlimited assent given to testimony by children gradually contracts as they advance in life: it is therefore more consonant to truth to say that our diffidence in testimony is the result of ex- perience, than that our faith in it has this founda- tion. Besides, the uniformity of experience in favour of any fact, is not a proof against its being reversed in a particular instance. The evidence arising from the single testimony of a man of known veracity will go far to establish a belief in its being actually reversed: if his testimony be confirmed by a few others of the same character, we cannot withhold our assent to the truth of it. Now, though the operations of nature are governed by uniform laws, and though we have not the testimony of our senses in favour of any violation of them, still, if in par- ticular instances we have the testimony of thousands of our fellow-creatures, and those, too, men of strict integrity, swayed by no motives of ambition or in- terest, and governed by the principles of common sense, that they were actual eye-witnesses of these violations, the constitution of our nature obliges us to believe them." Dr. Campbell's essay was speedily translated into the French, Dutch, and German languages. The activity and application of Dr. Campbell received an impulse in 1 77 1, from his being ap- pointed professor of divinity in Marischal College, in place of Dr. Alexander Gerard, who had* removed to the corresponding chair in King's. These two eminent men had been colleagues, and preached alternately in the same church. They were now pitted against each other in a higher walk, and there- can be no doubt, that, as the same students attended both, a considerable degree of emulation was excited betwixt them. Gerard was perfectly sensible of the talents of his new rival. His friends had taken the freedom of hinting to him that he had now some reason to look to his laurels; in answer to which he remarked carelessly, that Dr. Campbell was indolent. An unfortunate misunderstanding had existed be- tween these two excellent men for many years: it was now widened by the report of Gerard's trivial remark, which some busy person carried to Dr. Campbell's ears, probably in an exaggerated shape. This circumstance is said, however, to have had the beneficial effect of stimulating Dr. Campbell's exer- tions. The manner in which he discharged his duties was most exemplary; and the specimens which he has given in his Preliminary Dissertations to the Translation of the Gospels, in his lectures on ecclesi- astical history, and on theology, afford abundant proofs of his high qualifications as a public lecturer. It will be at the same time observed, from the list of his works immediately to be submitted, that the vacations of his professional labours were most sedulously employed for the advantage of the public and posterity. Dr. Campbell appears to us to have been one of the most splendidly gifted men that appeared during the course of the last century. His body was re- markably feeble; his stature greatly below that of ordinary men in this country. His health was ex- tremely delicate, and required for the long period of threescore years and ten the utmost care and atten- tion. Yet his powers of application were above those of most men, and, what is strange, were exem- plified chiefly in his later and feebler years. He was a man of the utmost simplicity of manners and naivete of character, and remarkably pleasant in conversation. The works which he has published prove, in the most indisputable manner, that he was possessed of true philosophical genius. His powers of abstraction appear to have been greater than those of most men of ancient or modern times. The study of languages was employed by him to the best ad- vantage; and the accuracy of his disquisitions throws a light upon the nature of the human mind, while it discovers a habit of attention to the actings of his own mind, which has certainly not been surpassed by any of those who have cultivated the science of morals. As a minister of religion he was no less eminent than in any other situation which he ever filled. He was esteemed by his hearers as an excellent lecturer; but his lectures were perhaps a little superior to his ordinary sermons. As the head of his college, he appeared to the greatest advantage — unassuming, mild, and disposed to show the greatest kindness and tenderness to those who were his inferiors, both in regard to rank or to literary reputation. As pro- fessor of divinity his fame was unrivalled. Many of his pupils have expressed in the warmest language the pleasure they derived from his prelections. There was a peculiar unction in his manner which charmed every one. He encouraged those whom he conceived to be diffident, and equally discoun- tenanced those who appeared to him to be forward or conceited. In church-courts he never aimed at shining; but he was sometimes roused to great ex- temporaneous exertion in that field, and it was remarked that his replies were generally better than his introductory .speeches. He was a zealous ad- vocate for liberty of conscience, and lent all his influence to his friend Principal Robertson respect- ing the Popish bill. His preponderance in the town of Aberdeen was never great in public questions; and indeed he never aimed at such an object : but in private society he was always esteemed the life of the com- pany, and never failed to make a strong impression. 1 1 The following is a list of his writings:— The Character of a Minister as a 'Teacher and Pattern; Dissertation on Miracles; The Spirit of the Gospel; The Philosophy of Rhetoric; The Nature, Extent, and Importance of the Duty of Allegiance; 'The Success of the First Publishers of the Gospel, a Proof of its Truth; Address to the People of Scot- land on tlie Alarms raised by the Bill in Favour of the Roman Catholics; The Happy Influence of Religion on Chut Society; Translation of the Gospels, with Preliminary Dis- sertations and Explanatory Notes; Lcctureson Ecclesiastical History; Lectures on T/u-olegy. JOHN CAMPBELL. 295 Dr. Campbell died April 6, 1796, in the seventy- seventh year of his age. CAMPBELL, John, Duke of Argyle and Green- wich, a distinguished soldier and statesman, was the son of Archibald, first Duke of Argyle, by Elizabeth, (laughter of Sir Lionel Talmas of Helmingham, by Elizabeth, afterwards Duchess of Lauderdale, daughter of William Murray, Earl of Dysart. His grace was born October IO, 1678. On the day in which his grandfather Archibald, Earl of Argyle, fell a sacrifice to the tyranny of James VII. (some say at the very moment of his execution), the subject of this narrative, being then in his seventh year, fell from a window in the third story of the house of Dunybrissel, then pos- sessed by his aunt, the Countess of Murray, and, to the astonishment of the whole household, was taken up without having suffered any material injury — a circumstance which his relatives and friends con- sidered as indicating not only future greatness, but that he was destined to restore the lustre of the house of Argyle, which at that moment was under a melan- choly eclipse. The care of his education was con- tided to a licentiate of the Scottish church named Walter Campbell, who for his diligence was after- wards rewarded by the family with a presentation to the parish of Dunoon. Under this gentleman he studied the classics, and some branches of philosophy. But he was distinguished by a restless activity rather than a fondness for study, and his father, anxious to place him in a situation where he might have it in his power to retrieve the fortunes of the family, took an early opportunity of presenting him to King Wil- liam, who, in 1694, bestowed upon the young noble- man the command of a regiment, he being yet in his sixteenth year. In this situation he continued till the death of his father, in the month of December, 1703, when, succeeding to the dukedom, he was sworn of his majesty's privy-council, and appointed captain of the Scots horse-guards, and one of the extraordinary lords of session. In 1704 the order of the Thistle being revived in Scotland, his grace was installed one of the knights, which dignity he subse- quently exchanged for the order of the Garter. In I7°5> being exceedingly popular among his countrymen, the Duke of Argyle was appointed her majesty's high commissioner to the Scottish parlia- ment, in order to prepare the way for the treaty of union which her majesty Queen Anne, in concert with her English counsellors, had now determined to carry into effect. For his services in this parliament he was created an English peer by the titles of Baron of Chatham and Earl of Greenwich. His grace after this served four campaigns in Flanders, under the Duke of Marlborough, where he ruse to the rank of lieutenant-general, and was honourably distinguished in the battles of Ramilies, Oudinarde, and Malplaquet, in the last of which he narrowly escaped, having a number of balls shot through his coat, hat, and peri- wig. He was also employed at the sieges of Ostend, Menin, Lisle, Ghent, and Tournay. On the change of ministry in 17 10, Argyle veered with the wind of the court, and having become a de- claimer against the Duke of Marlborough, was by the Tories appointed generalissimo in Spain, where there were great complaints of mismanagement on the part of the former ministry, and where it was now pro- posed to carry on the war with mure than ordinary vigour. Here, however, his grace was completely overreached, the ministry having no intention of carrying on the war anywhere. On his arrival in Spain he found the army in a state of perfect disor- ganization, without pay and without necessaries, and though the parliament had voted a large sum for its subsistence, not one farthing was sent to him. He was under the necessity of raising money upon his plate and personal credit for its immediate wants, and in a short time returned to England, having ac- complished nothing. This treatment, with a report that a design had been laid to take him off by poison while he was on his ill-fated journey, and, above all, the superior influence of the Earl of Mar, who, as well as himself, aspired to the sole administration of Scottish affairs, totally alienated him from his new friends the Tories. He became again a leading Whig, and a violent declaimer for the Protestant succession, in consequence of which he was deprived of all his employments. His grace had been a principal agent in accomplishing the union, by which his popularity was considerably injured among the lower orders of his countrymen; this he now dexter- ously retrieved by joining with Mar and his Jacobite associates at court for the dissolving of that treaty which he now pretended had completely disappointed his expectations. A motion for this end was ac- cordingly made in the House of Lords on the 1st of June, 1713, by the Earl of Seafield, who also had been one of the most forward of the original sup- porters of the measure. The motion was seconded by the Earl of Mar, and urged by Argyle with all the force of his eloquence. One of his principal argu- ments, however, being the security of the Protestant succession, he was led to speak of the Pretender, which he did with so much acrimony, that several of the high Jacobites fled the house without waiting for the vote. This was the means of disappointing the project, which otherwise had most certainly been carried, it having been lost after all by no more than four voices. On the illness of the queen in the following year, the zeal of his grace for the Protestant succession was most conspicuous as well as most happy. Nobody at the time entertained any doubt that Bolingbroke and his party had an intention at least to attempt the Pretender's restoration on the death of the queen; and to prevent any undue advantages being taken of circumstances, Argyle no sooner was apprised of her dangerous situation than, along with the Duke of Somerset, he repaired to the council-board, and pre- vailed to have all the privy -councillors in and about London, without any exception, summoned to attend, which, with the sudden death of the queen, so com- pletely disconcerted the Tories, that for the time there was not the smallest manifestation of one dis- cordant feeling. The queen was no sooner dead than the seven lords who had by a previous act of parliament been appointed to the regency, together with sixteen additional personages nominated by the heir-apparent, in virtue of the same act of parliament, proclaimed the Elector of Hanover king of Great Britain. They at the same time took every precau- tion for preserving tranquillity, and preparing for his majesty's being peacefully and honourably receive 1 on his arrival. The services of Argyle on this sion were not overlooked: he was made groom 1 >l the stole to the prince, when his majesty had advanced no further than Greenwich, and two days alter was appointed commander-in-chief of his majesty - : for Scotland. Though by this strange combination ot circum- stances—viz. the sudden demise of the queen, ih union of the Jacobites, with the pi -• 'ii of the Whig-, among whom the subj- 1 lemolr was a most efficient leader the acce-don of the new dynasty was to all appearance easy and peaceable. the battled faction very - returned to the charge with an en vcrance worthy of a better cause. 1 he cry ol " . 296 JOHN CAMPBELL. in danger" was again raised, and for some weeks England was one scene of universal riot. Many places of worship belonging to Dissenters were thrown down, and in several places most atrocious murders were committed. Through the energy of the govern- ment, however, open insurrection was for a while prevented, and tranquillity in some measure restored. Still the activity of the Pretender at foreign courts, and the restlessness of his adherents at home, created strong suspicions that an invasion on his behalf was intended, and every preparation that could be thought of was taken to defeat it. A number of new regiments were raised, officers of doubtful character were dis- placed, suspected persons taken into custody, and lords-lieutenant, with the necessary powers, every- where appointed. In the meantime Scotland, where the friends of the exiled family were proportionally much more numerous than in England, was by a strange fatality neglected. In the southern and western shires, through the influence of the Hano- verian club, at the head of which was the Earl of liuchan, the attent ion of the people had been awakened, and right feeling to a considerable extent excited; yet even there Jacobitism was not a rare thing, and in the north, through the influence of the Earl of Mar, it was altogethertriumphant. That nobleman, indeed, had cajoled into his views almost all the clans, at the head of whom, to the amount of 12,000 men, he had taken possession of Perth, and was ready to seize upon the fords of the Forth before the government had observed his manoeuvres, or taken any proper precautions to counteract them. Sensible at last of the danger, they proclaimed the law for encouraging loyalty in Scotland, summoned a long list of suspected persons to deliver themselves up to the public func- tionaries; and, to call forth those supplies of men and money which they had hitherto shown a disposition to forbid rather than to encourage, sent down the Duke of Argyle, who had already been constituted commander-in-chief of the forces, with all the neces- sary powers for that purpose. His grace arrived in Edinburgh on the 14th of September, 1 715, where his first care was to inspect the garrison, the fortifica- tions, and the magazines, from the last of which he ordered thirty cartloads of arms and ammunition to be sent to Glasgow and Stirling for the use of the in- habitants. He then proceeded to review the army which had been assembled at Stirling, General Wight- man having there formed a camp of all the disposable forces in Scotland, which fell short of 2000 men, a number altogether inadequate to the arduous duties they had to perform. The first care of his grace was, of course, to augment the forces by every pos- sible means, for which end he wrote to the magis- trates of Glasgow, and through them to all the well- affected in the west of Scotland, to forward such troops as they might have in readiness, without loss of time, and to have as many more provided against a sudden emergency as possible. Glasgow, which had been in expectation of such a catastrophe for a considerable time, immediately forwarded to Stirling upwards of 700 men, well equipped, under the command of Provost Aird, with whom they joined Colonel John Blackadder, governor of Stirling ( lastle. These 700 were instantly replaced at Glasgow by de- tachments from Kilmarnock, Irvine, Greenock, and Paisley, where, with the exception of detachments sent out to garrison the houses of Drummakill, (iar- tartan, and Cardross, they were allowed to remain for the convenience of provisions, which were rather scarce at Stirling. He also ordered levies to fill up every company in the regular regiments to fifty men, and to add two fresh companies to each regiment. But though he offered a strictly limited term of ser- vice and a liberal bounty for that period (£2 sterling for each man), he does not appear to have been suc- cessful in adding to his numbers. Nor, with all his earnestness of application, could he prevail on the government to spare him from England, where troops were plentiful, a single man. One regiment of dra- goons and two of foot from Ireland were the utmost he could obtain, which, till he should be able to as- certain the intentions of the Earl of Mar, were also stationed at Glasgow. While Argyle was thus strug- gling with difficulties, and completely hampered in all his operations, Mar had greater means than he had genius to employ, and could, without any exer- tion, keep his opponent in perpetual alarm. He had already, by a stratagem, nearly possessed himself of the castle of Edinburgh ere the magistrates of that city were aware of his being in arms. A detachment from his army, by a night march, descended upon Burntisland, where a vessel loaded with arms for the Earl of Sutherland had been driven in by stress of weather. This vessel they boarded, carrying off the arms, with as many more as could be found in the town. A still bolder project was about the same time attempted in the north-west, where a numerous party of the Macdonalds, Macleans, and Camerons, under the orders of General Gordon, attempted to surprise the garrison of Inverlochy. They were, however, repulsed, after having made themselves masters of two redoubts and taken twenty men. They then turned south upon Argyleshire for the purpose of raising men, and General Gordon, who had the reputation of an excellent officer, threatened to fall down upon Dumbarton and Glasgow. This was another source of distraction to Argyle, whose small army could not well admit of being divided. Gordon, however, met with little encouragement in the way of recruiting, and after alarming Inverary, where the duke had stationed his brother, Lord Hay, dropped quietly into Mar's camp at Perth, where nearly the whole strength of the rebels was now con- centrated. Though Argyle was thus circumscribed in his means, he displayed ceaseless activity and consider- able address in the application of them, and the great reputation he had acquired under Marlborough rendered him, even with his scanty means, formidable to his opponent, who was altogether a novice in the art military. One talent of a great general too his grace possessed in considerable perfection; that of finding out the plans and secret purposes of his ad- versary, of all whose movements he had generally early and complete intelligence: Mar, on the con- trary, could procure no intelligence whatever. He knew that a simultaneous rising was to take place under Thomas Foster of Etherstane, member of par- liament for the county of Northumberland, and another in Nithsdale under Viscount Kenmure; but how they were succeeding, or to what their attention had been more immediately directed, he was utterly ignorant. To ascertain these points, to stimulate his friends in their progress, and to open up for him- self an easier passage to the south, he detached 2500 of his best troops under the laird of Borlum, the bravest and die most experienced officer perhaps in his whole army. This detachment was to force its way across the Firth below Edinburgh, and through the I.othians by the way of Kelso, till it should find Kenmure or Poster upon the English border. This romantic project the old brigadier, as lie was called in the army, accomplished with great facility, one boat with forty men being all that in crossing the firth fell into the hands of the enemy. A few, with tin- Fail of Strathmore, were cut off from the rest, but made their escape into the Isle of -May, whence JOHN CAMPBELL. 297 in a day or two they found their way back to Perth. The principal part of the expedition, consisting nearly of 2000 men, landed between Tantalon, North Ber- wick, and Aberlady, and for the first night quartered in Haddington. Early next morning, the 13th of October, the whole body marched directly for Edin- burgh. This threw the citizens into the utmost con- sternation, and an express was sent off directly to Stirling for troops to protect the city: 200 infantry mounted upon country horses and 300 cavalry arrived the same evening; but had Borlum persisted in his original design, they had certainly come too late. On his arriving, however, within a mile of the city, and meeting with none of the citizens, a deputation of whom he had expected to invoke his aid, and perhaps secretly dreading the movements of Argyle, Borlum turned aside to Leith, which he entered, as lie would in all probability have entered Edinburgh, without the smallest opposition. Here the insur- gents found and liberated their forty companions who had been taken the previous day in crossing the Firth. They also seized upon the custom-house, where they found considerable quantities of meal, beef, and brandy, which they at once appropriated to their own use; and possessing themselves of the citadel, with such materials as they found in the harbour, they fortified it in the best manner they could for their security through the night. Next morning Argyle, with his 300 cavalry, 200 infantry, and a few militia, marched against Borlum, accompanied by Generals Evans and Wight man, giving him a sum- mons under pain of treason to surrender, adding that if he waited for an attack, he should have no quarter. The laird of Kynnachin, who was spokes- man for the rebels, haughtily replied, that the word surrender they did not understand, quarter they would neither take nor give, and his grace was welcome to force their position if he could. Sensible that with- out artillery no attack could be made upon the place, barricaded as it was, with any prospect of success, the duke withdrew to prepare the means of more efficient warfare, and Borlum, disappointed in his views upon Edinburgh, and perhaps not at all anxious for a second interview with the king's troops, took the advantage of an ebb-tide and a very dark night to abandon his position, marching round the pier by the sands for Seton House, the seat of the Earl of Winton, who was in the south with Kenmure and his associated rebels. This place, after sundry acci- dents, they readied in safety about two o'clock in the morning. Here they were joined by a number of their companions, who, having crossed the Firth further down, were unable to come up with them on the preceding day. Forty of their men, who had made too tree with the custom-house brandy, some stragglers who had fallen behind on the march, with a small quantity of baggage and ammunition, fell into the hands of a detachment of the king's troops. Argyle. in the meantime, aware of the strength of Seton Hoi;,?, sent off an express to Stirling for cannon to dislodge its new possessors, when he was informed that Mar was on his march to force the passage of the Foith. This compelled him to hasten to Muling, where he found that Mar had actually commenced his march, and had himself come as far south as Dunblane, whence, hearing of the arrival of the duke, he returned to Perth, having attained his object, which was only a safe retreat for his friends from Seton House. On his sudden departure for Stirling, Argyle left the city of Edinburgh and Seton House to the care of General Wightman and Colonel Ker. with a few regular troops and the neighb Hiring militia. Find- ing Seton impregnable to any force they could bring against it, they retired from it, to save them- selves the disgrace of making an unsuccessful attack. Borlum finding himself unmolested, and in a country where he could command with ease all kinds of pro- vision, proposed nothing less than to establish there a general magazine for the Pretender, and to enlist an army from among the Jacobites of Edinburgh and the adjacent country; but before he left the citadel of Leith, he despatched a boat with intelli- gence to Mar; and, firing after her, the king's ships took her for one of their own boats, and allowed her to pass without molestation. In consequence of this notice, Mar had made a feint to cross the Forth, merely to allow him to escape; and now he had an answer at Seton House, with express orders to ; ro- ceed south, and to put himself under the orders of Kenmure or Foster, without a moment's delay. He accordingly proceeded next day towards Kelso, where he met with Foster and Kenmure on the 22d of October, when, after all the desertion they had experienced by the way, which was very con- siderable, the whole formed an army of 1400 foot, and 600 horse. Here they were threatened with an attack from General Carpenter, who was within a day's march of them, and became violently divided in opinion respecting the course they ought to pursue. Foster and his Northumbrian friends were anxious to transfer the scene of their operations to England, where they promised themselves a prodigious in- crease of numbers. The Highlanders, on the con- trary, were anxious to return and join the clans, taking the towns of Dumfries and Glasgow in their way. The contention was so hot that it had almost come to blows, and it ended in 500 Highlanders adopting the latter plan, who, separating from their companions, and taking their route for the heads of the Forth, were either famished, killed, or taken prisoners by the way. The remainder followed the former, and proceeded as far as Preston, where on the 13th of November, the very day on which the main armies met on the Sheriff-muir, they were all made prisoners and delivered over, some to the exe- cutioner, and the remainder to be slaves in the plantations. Argyle all this while continued at Stirling, and Mar at Perth, carrying on an insignificant \\ manifestoes, equally unprofitable to both ] and perhaps equally harassing to the country. On the 23d of October, however, the duke, having learned that a detachment of rebels was passing by Castle Campbell, towards Dunfermline, sent out a body of cavalry, which came up with the party, and defeated it, taking a number of gentlemen prisoners, with the trilling damage of one dragoon wounded in the cheek, and one horse slightly hurt. N further occurred between the armies tiil Mar, finding that without action it would be impossible I his army together, called a council of r.'.l tin on the 9th of November, in which it was res ■ to cross the Forth without loss of time. N 1 this be, one would have supposed, to them ar.yi like a difficult undertaking. After having disposed of 3000 men in the different gari ig the coast of Fife, they had still 12.000 el for the attack, which they pro] in the following manner: — First, v. of 1000 men, to attem] t the bridge 1 a s C c>md of an equal number, the A: below the bridge; w ith a thir 1 "I a: the ford called the Drip C ! '.e. a above the bridge. Th pi ised, wi mid amply ",. which did not exceed 3 men. time, v ith 1 . . 1 half ■ ~ l; l - army, niean- - ) men, 298 JOHN CAMPBELL. they intended to cross the river still higher up, and push directly for England, leaving the other three divisions, after having disposed of the duke, to follow at their leisure. Argyle, however, having acquainted himself, by means of his spies, with the plan, took his measures accordingly. Aware that if he waited for the attack on the Forth, he would, from the nature of the ground, be deprived of the use of his cavalry, upon which he placed his principal depen- dence, he determined to take up a position in ad- vance of that river, and for this purpose, having appointed the Earl of Buchan with the Stirlingshire militia, and the Glasgow regiment, to guard the town of Stirling, commenced his march to the north on the morning of Saturday the I2th of November, and in the afternoon encamped on a rising ground, hav- ing on his right the Sheriff-muir, and on his left the town of Dunblane. Mar, having committed the town of Perth to the care of Colonel Balfour, on the 10th had come as far south as Auchterarder, with an effective force of 10,500 men, the cavalry in his army being nearly equal to Argyle's whole force. The nth he de- voted to resting the troops, fixing the order of battle, &c, and on the 12th, General Gordon, with eight squadrons of horse, and all the clans, was ordered to occupy Dunblane. The remainder of the rebel army had orders to parade early in the morning on the muir of Tullibardine, and thence to follow General Gordon. This part of the army, which was under the command of General Hamilton, had scarcely begun to move, when an express came to the general that the royal troops had already occu- pied Dunblane in great force. On this the general halted, and drew up his men in the order of battle on the site of the Roman camp, near Ardoch. Mar himself, who had gone to Drummond Castle, being informed of the circumstance, came up with all speed, and nothing further having been heard from General Gordon, the whole was supposed to be a false alarm. The troops, however, were ordered to be in readiness, and the discharge of three cannons was to be the signal for the approach of the enemy. Scarcely had these orders been issued, when an ex- press from General Gordon informed the Earl of Mar that Argyle had occupied Dunblane with his whole force. The signal guns were of course fired, ami the rebel army, formed in order of battle on the muir of Kinbuck, lay under arms during the night. The Duke of Argyle, having certain intelligence before he left Stirling of Mar's movements, and aware that before his army had finished its encamp- ment the watch guns of the rebels would be heard, disposed everything exactly in the order in which he intended to make his attack next morning; of course no tent was pitched, and officers and men, without distinction, lay under arms during the night, which was uncommonly severe. The duke alone sat under cover of a sheep-cote at the foot of the hill. Everything being ready for the attack, his grace, early in the morning of Monday the 13th, rode to the top of the hill, where his advanced guard was posted, to reconnoitre the rebel army, which, though it had suffered much from desertion the two preceding days, was still upwards of 9000 men, dis- posed in the following order — Ten battalions of foot, comprising the clans commanded by Clanronald, Glengary, Sir John Maclean, and Campbell of Glenlyon. On their right were three squadrons of horse— the Stirling, which carried the standard of the Pretender, and two of the Marquis of Hunt- ley's; on their left were the Fife-shire and Perthshire squadrons. Their second line consisted of three battalions of Seaforth's, two of Huntley's, those of Panmure, Tullibardine, Lord Drummond, and Strowan, commanded by their respective chieftains, Drummond's excepted, which was commanded by Strathallan and Logie Almond. On the right of this line were Marischal's dragoons, and on their left those of Angus. Of the left of their army his grace had a tolerable view, but a hollow concealed their right, and, being masters of the brow of the hill, he was unable to discover the length of their lines. While the rebels, notwithstanding their great superiority of force, were losing their time in idle consultation whether they should presently fight or return to Perth, the duke had an opportunity of ex- amining their dispositions, but for a considerable time could not comprehend what was tlieir plan, and was at a loss how to form his own. No sooner had they taken the resolution to fight, however, than he perceived that they intended to attack him in front with their right, and in flank with their left, at the same time; the severity of the frost through the night having rendered a morass, which covered that part of his position, perfectly passable. He hastened to make iiis dispositions accordingly. Be- fore these dispositions, however, could be com- pleted, General Witham, who commanded his left, was attacked by the clans, with all their character- istic fury, and totally routed, Witham himself rid- ing full speed to Stirling with tidings of a total defeat. In the meantime, Argyle, at the head of Stair's and Evans' dragoons, charged the rebel army on the left, consisting mostly of cavalry, which he totally routed in his turn, driving them, • to the number of 5000 men, beyond the Water of Allan, in which many of them were drowned attempting to escape. General Wightman, who commanded the duke's centre, fol- lowed with three battalions of foot as closely as pos- sible. The right of the rebels were all this time inactive, and seeing, by the retreat of Argyle's left, the field empty, joined the clans who had driven it off, and crossing the field of battle, took post, to the number of 4000 men, on the hill of Kippendavie. Apprised by General Wightman of his situation, which was now critical in the extreme, Argyle in- stantly wheeled round — formed the few troops he had, scarcely 1000 men, the Grays on the right. Evans' on the left, with the foot in the centre, and advancing towards the enemy, took post behind some fold dykes at the foot of the hill. Instead of attacking him, however, the rebels drew off to- wards Ardoch, allowing him quietly to proceed to Dunblane, where, having recalled General Witham, the army lay on their arms all night, expecting to renew the combat next day. Next day, finding the enemy gone, he returned to Stirling, carrying along with him sixteen standards, six pieces of can- non, four waggons, and a great quantity of provision, captured from the enemy. The number of the slain on the side of the rebels has been stated to have been 800, among whom were the Earl of Strathmore, Clanranald, and several other persons of distinction. Panmure and Drummond of Logie were among the wounded. Of the royal army there were killed, wounded, and taken prisoners upwards of 600. The Lord Forfar was the only person of eminence killed on that side. The obvious incapacity of both generals, though, from his great superiority of forces, Mar's is by far the most conspicuous, is the only striking feature of this battle; both claimed the victory at the time, and both had suffered a defeat, yet the consequences were decisive. The rebels never again faced the royal troops, and for anything they effected might have separated that very day. The period indeed JOHN' CAMPBELL. 299 was fatal in the extreme to the Pretender. The whole body of his adherents in the south had fallen into the hands of Generals Willis and Carpenter at Preston. Inverness, with all the adjacent country, had been recovered to the government, through the exertions of the Earl of Sutherland, Lord Lovat, the Rosses, the Monros, and the Forbeses, nearly on this same day; and though Mar, on his return to Perth, celebrated his victory with Te Deums, thanks- givings, sermons, ringing of bells, and bonfires, his followers were dispirited, and many of them with- drew to their homes in disgust. Owing to the paucity of his numbers and the extreme rigour of the season, Argyle was in no great haste to follow up his part of the victory, and the government, evidently displeased with his tardy procedure, sent down General Cadogan to quicken, and perhaps to be a spy upon his motions, lie, however, brought along with him 6000 Dutch and Swiss troops, with Newton's and Stanhope's dragoons, by which the royal army was made more than a match for the rebels, though they had been equally strong as be- fore the battle of Dunblane. On the arrival of these reinforcements, orders were issued to the commander in Leith Roads to cannonade the town of Burnt- island, which was in possession of a large body of the rebels; and this he did with so much effect, that they abandoned the place, leaving behind them six pieces of cannon, a number of small arms, and a large quantity of provisions. Several other small garri- sons on the coast were abandoned about the same time, and a detachment of the Dutch and Swiss troops, crossing over at the Queensferry, took pos- session of Inverkeithing, Dunfermline, and the neighbouring towns, in consequence of which Fife was entirely abandoned by the rebels. Some trifling skirmishes took place, but no one of such magnitude as to deserve a formal detail. Cadogan, writing to the Duke of Marlborough at this period, says, that he found the duke anxious to invent excuses for sitting still and endeavouring to discourage the troops, by exaggerating the numbers of the enemy, and the dangers and difficulties of the service. Now, however, having received from Lon- don, Berwick, and Edinburgh, a sufficient train of artillery, pontoons, engineers, &c., no excuse for inaction was left, but the inclemency of the weather; and this, in a council of war, it was determined to brave. Colonel Guest was accordingly sent out, on the 2lst of January, 1716, with 200 horse, to view the roads and reconnoitre the positions of the enemy. The colonel reported the roads impassable for car- riages and heavy artillery, in consequence of which several thousands of the country people were called in and employed to clear them. A sudden thaw, on the 24th, followed by a heavy fall of snow, ren- dered the roa Is again impassable; but the march was determined upon, and the countrymen had to clear the roads a second time. But, besides the im- passability of the roads, there were neither provi- sions, forage, nor shelter (frozen rocks and moun- tains of snow excepted) to be found between Perth and Dunblane, the Chevalier having ordered every village with all that could be of use either to man or beast, to be destroyed. Provisions and forage for the army were therefore to be provided, subsistence for twelve days being ordered to be carried along with them, and more to be in readiness to send after them when wanted. In the meantime, two regi- ments of dragoons and 500 toot were sent forward to the broken bridge of Doune, in case the rebels might have attempted to secure the pas-age; and, on the 29th, the main army began its march, quartering that night in Dunblane. On the night of the ;oth the army quartered among the ruins of Auchterarder, without any covering save the canopy of heaven, the night being piercingly cold and the snow upwards of three feet deep. On this day's march the army was preceded by 2000 labourers clearing the roads. Next morning they surprised and made prisoners fdty men in the garrison of Tullibardine, where the duke received, with visible concern, if we may credit Cadogan, the news that the Pretender had abandoned Perth on the preceding day, having thrown his ar- tillery into the Tay, which fie crossed on the ice. Taking four squadrons of dragoons, and two batta- lions of foot, whatever might be his feelings, Argyle hastened to take possession of that city, at which he arrived, with General Cadogan and the dragoon-, about one o'clock on the morning of the t-t of Feb- ruary. The two colonels, Campbell of Finab, and Campbell of Lawers, who had been stationed at Finlarig, hearing of the retreat of the rebels, had entered the town the preceding day, and had made prisoners of a party of rebels who had got drunk upon a quantity of brandy, which they had not had the means otherwise to carry away. Eight hundred bolls of oatmeal were found in Mar's magazine, which Argyle ordered to be, by the miller of the mill of Farn, divided among the sufferers of the different villages that had been burned by order of the Pre- tender. Finab was despatched instantly to Dundee in pursuit of the rebels; and entered it only a few- hours after they had departed. On the 2d his grace continued the pursuit, and lay that night at Errol. On the 3d he came to Dundee, where he was joined by the main body of the army on the 4th. Here the intelligence from the rebel army led his grace to conclude that they meant to defend Montrose, where they could more easily receive supplies from abroad than at Perth; and, to allow them as little time as possible to fortify themselves, two detachments were sent forward without a moment's loss of time — the one by Aberbrothick, and the other by Brechin. Owing to the depths of the roads the progress of these detachments was slow, being under the neces- sity of employing the country people to clear away the snow before them. They were followed next day by the whole army, the duke, with the cavalry and artillery, taking the way by Brechin, and Cado- gan, with the infantry, by Aberbrothick. On this (lay's march they learned that the Chevalier, Mar, and the principal leaders of the rebel army had em- barked the day before at Montrose, on board the Maria Teresa, and had sailed for France, while their followers had marched to Aberdeen under the charge of General Gordon and Earl Marischal. On the 6th the duke entered Montrose, and the same day the rebels entered Aberdeen. Thither his grace followed them on the 8th; but they had then separ- ated among the hills of Badenoch, and were com- pletely beyond the reach of their pursuers. A num- ber of their chieftains, however, with some Irish officers, being well mounted, rode off in a body f r Peterhead, expecting there to find the meai - > ! escaping to France. After these a party ot horse were sent out, but they had escaped, finab was also sent to Frazerburg in search of stragg :-. : it found only the Chevalier's physician, wh Ik ma ;e prisoner. Finding the rebels completely dispersed, Argyle divided his troops and dispersed them -> thought best for preserving the t and, leaving Cadogan ii ■ - •' ' ' '■' Fdinburgh, where "he arrive: n the 2;-': 1 :" Feb- ruary, and \v.- ; s present at the elect! 1:1 < : a ; eer to serve in the room of the Marquis ol ["weed' ale, deceased. On the 1st of March, after ha\ing been JOHN CAMPBELL. most magnificently entertained by the magistrates of the Scottish capital, his grace departed tor Lon- don, where he arrived on the 6th, and was by his majesty, to all appearance, most graciously received. There was, however, at court a secret dissatisfac- tion with his conduct; and, in a short time, he was dismissed from all his employments, though he seems in the meantime to have acted cordially with the ministry, whose conduct was, in a number of in- stances, ridiculous enough. They had obtained an act of parliament for bringing all the Lancaster rebels to be tried at London, and all the Scottish ones to be tried at Carlisle, under the preposterous idea that juries could not be found in those places to return a verdict of guilty. Under some similar hallucination, they supposed it impossible to elect a new parliament without every member thereof being Jacobite in his principles; and, as the parlia- ment was nearly run, they brought in a bill to enable themselves, as well as all other parliaments which should succeed them, to sit seven years in place of three. The bill was introduced into the House of Lords on the ioth of April, by the Duke of Devon- shire, who represented triennial parliaments as serv- ing no other purposes than the keeping alive party divisions and family feuds, with a perpetual train of enormous expenses, and particularly to encourage the intrigues of foreign powers, which, in the present temper of the nation, might be attended with the most fatal consequences. All these dangers he pro- posed to guard against, by prolonging the duration of parliaments from three to seven years. He was supported by the Earls of Dorset and Buckingham, the Duke of Argyle, the Lord Townshend, with all the leaders of the party; and though violently op- posed by the Tories, who very justly, though they have been its zealous advocates ever since, denounced it as an inroad upon the fundamental parliamentary law of the kingdom, the measure was carried by a sweeping majority. Previously to this, Argyle had honourably dis- tinguished himself by a steady opposition to the schism bill, against which, along with a number of the greatest names England has ever produced, lie entered his protest upon the journals of the house. Subsequently, in a debate on the bill for vesting the forfeited estates in Britain and Ireland in trustees for the public behoof, we find him speak- ing and voting against it with the Jacobite lords North and Gray, Trevor and Ilarcourt, but he was now out of all his employments and pensions, and the Jacobite Lockhart was every day expecting to hear that he had declared for James VIII., which there is every probability he would have clone, had that imbecile prince been able to profit by the wisdom of hi.-> advisers. In the beginning of the year 1711S, when the Pretender became again a tool in the hands of Cardinal Alberoni for disturbing the tranquillity of the British government, Argyle was restored to favour, appointed steward of the household, and created Duke of Greenwich, when he again lent his support to the ministry in bringing forward the famous peerage bill — another insane attempt to sub- vert the balance of the constitution. By this bill the peerage was to be fixed so as that the number of English peers should never be increased above six more than their number at that time, which, on the failure of heirs male, were to be filled up by new creations. Instead of the sixteen elective Scottish peers, twenty-five were to be made hereditary on the part of that kingdom, to be also kept up by naming other Scottish peers on the failure of heirs male. This bill was introduced by the Duke of .Somerset, seconded by Argyle, and being also re- commended by his majesty, could not fail of passing the lords, but met with such violent opposition in the commons that it was found expedient to lay it aside for the time. When again brought forward it was rejected by a great majority. After this his grace seems for a long period to have enjoyed his pensions, and to have lived for the most part on peaceable terms with his colleagues. Only, in the year 1721, we find him, in order to supplant the Squadrone and secure to himself and his brother the sole and entire patronage of Scotland, again in treaty with Lockhart of C'arnwath and the Tories, in consequence of which, Lockhart assures the king [James] that if there is to be a new parliament, the Tories will have the half of the sixteen peers, and Argyle's influence for all the Tory commons they shall be able to bring forward as candidates. "I also inserted," he adds, "that matters should be made easy to those who are pro- secuted for the king's [James'] sake, and that Argyle should oppose the peerage bill, both of which are agreed to." The ministry, however, contrived to balance the Squadrone and his grace pretty equally against one another, and so secured the fidelity of both, till I7 2 5> when the Squadrone were finally thrown out, and the whole power of Scotland fell into the hands of Argyle and his brother Hay; they engaging to cany through the malt-tax, as the other had carried through the forfeiture of the rebels' estates. From this, till the affair of Captain Porteous, in 1737, we hear little of his grace in public. On that occa- sion we find him again in opposition to the ministry; defending the city of Edinburgh, and charging the mob upon a set of upstart fanatical preachers, by which he doubtless meant the seceders. The effect, however, was only the display of his own ignorance, and the infliction of a deeper wound upon the Scot- tish church, by the imposition of reading what was called Porteous' Paper upon all her ministers. Edin- burgh, however, contrary to the intentions of the court, was left in the possession of her charter, her gates, and her guards; but the lord-provost was de- clared incapable of ever again holding a civil office, and a mulct of ^2000 sterling was imposed upon the city funds for the captain's widow. In the suc- ceeding years, when the nation was heated into frenzy against Spain, his grace made several appear- ances on the popular side; and, in 1740, after an anti-ministerial speech on the state of the nation, he was again deprived of all his employments. On the resignation of Sir Robert Walpole, his grace was, by the new ministry, once more restored to all his places. The ministry, however, were unable to maintain their popularity, and Argyle finally quitted the stage of public life. From this time forward he affected privacy, and admitted none to his con- versation but particular friends. The Jacobites were now preparing to make a last effort to destroy that spirit of freedom which was so rapidly annihilating their hopes. They had all along believed that Argyle, could he have reconciled them with his own, was not unfriendly to their in- terests; and now that he was old, idle, and disgusted, hoping to work upon his avarice and his ambition, at the same time they prevailed upon the Chevalier, now also approaching to dotage, to write him a friendly letter. The time, however, had been allowed to go by. Argyle had acquired a high reputation lor patriotism — he was now old and paralytic, utterly unfit for going through those scenes of peril that had been the pride of his youth; and he was too expert a politician not to know, that from the pro- gress of public opinion, as well as from the state of property and private rights, the cause of the Stuarts was utterly hopeless. The letter was certainly be- JOHN CAMPBELL DR. JOHN CAMPBELL. 301 neath his notice; but, to gratify his vanity, and to show that he was still of some little consequence in the world, he sent it to his majesty's ministers. The Jacobites, enraged at his conduct, and probably ashamed of their own, gave out that the whole was a trick intended to expose the weakness of the ministry, and to put an affront upon the Duke of Argyle. The loss to either party was not consider- able, as his grace's disorder now began rapidly to increase. He fell by degrees into a state of deep melancholy, and departed this life on the 3d of Sep- tember, 1743, in the sixty-fifth year of his age. His grace was twice married — first to Man,-, daughter of John Brown, Esq., and niece to Sir Charles Duncombe, lord-mayor of London, by whom he had no issue. Secondly to Jane, daughter of Thomas Warburton, of Winnington, in Cheshire, by whom he had four daughters. 1 Ie was succeeded in his Scottish titles and estates by his brother Lord Hay, but wanting male issue his English titles be- came extinct. From the brief sketch we have given of his life, the reader, we apprehend, will be at no loss to ap- preciate the character of John, Duke of Argyle. Few men have enjoyed such a large share of popularity — fewer still have, through a long life, threaded the mazes of political intrigue with the same uniform good fortune. The latter, however, illustrates the former. He who has had for life the sole patronage of a kingdom, must have had many a succession of humble servants ready to give him credit for any or for all perfections; and he must have exercised that patronage with singular infelicity, if he has not bene- fited many individuals who will think it a duty they owe to themselves, if not to extenuate his faults, to magnify his virtues. Such a man can never want popularity, especially if he has an assistant upon whom he can impose the drudgery and the less dignified duties of his place, reserving to himself more especially the performance of those that flatter public opinion, and conciliate public affection. Such a man was Argyle, and such an assistant he had in his brother, Lord Hay, who, supported by his in- fluence, had the reputation for upwards of thirty years of being the king of Scotland. In early life he acquired considerable military reputation under the Duke of Marlborough; and when he was paying court to the Tories had the temerity, on a military question, to set up his opinion in the I louse of Lords, inoppositiontothat mostaccomplishedof all generals. How justly, let Sheriffmuir and the hill of Kippen- davie say! Happily for his grace, there was no Lord George Murray with the rebels on that occasion. His eloquence and his patriotism have been highly celebrated by Thomson, but the value of poetical pancgvric is now perfectly understood; besides, he shared the praises of that poet in common with Bubb Doddington, the Countess of Hertford, and twenty other names of equal insignificance. General Cado- gan, who accompanied him through the latter part of his northern campaign, seems to have made a very- low estimate of his patriotism. He charges him openly with being lukewarm in the cause he de- fended, and of allowing his Argyleshire men to go before the army and plunder the country, "which," says he, "enrages our soldiers, who are not allowed to take the worth of a farthing out of even the rebels' houses." What was taken out of houses bv either of them we know not; but we know that our armv in its progress north, particularly the Dutch part of 1 it, burnt for fuel ploughs, harrow-, carts, cart- j wheels, and barn-doors indiscriminately, so that manv an honest farmer could not cultivate his fields in the , spring for the want oi these necessary implements, which to us proves pretty distinctly, that there was a very small degree of patriotism felt by either of them. Of learning, his grace had but an inconsider- able portion; still he had a tolerable share of the natural shrewdness of his countrymen; and though his speculative views were narrow, his knowledge of mankind seems to have been practically pretty ex- tensive. His disgraceful truckling to, and traffick- ing with the Tories and the Jacobites, at all times when he was out of place, demonstrates his principles to have been sordid, and his character selfish. His views of liberty seem to have been very contracted — the liberty of lords and lairds to use' the people as might suit their puq>oses and inclinations. In perfect accordance with this feeling, he was kind and affec- tionate in domestic life, particularly to hi-, sen-ants, with whom he seldom parted, and for whom, in old age, he was careful to provide. He was also an ex- ample to all noblemen in being attentive to the state of his affairs, and careful to discharge all his deli!'-. particularly tradesmen's accounts, in clue season. We cannot sum up his character more appropriately than in the words of Lockhart, who seem- to have appreciated very correctly the most prominent features of the man, with whom he was acquainted. '-He- was not," says he, "strictly speaking, a man of sound understanding and judgment, for all his natural endowments were sullied with too much impetuosity, passion, and positiveness, and his sense lay rather in a flash of wit, than a solid conception and reflection — yet, nevertheless, he might well enough pass as a very well-accomplished gentleman." CAMPBELL, John, LL.D., an eminent mis- cellaneous writer, was born at Edinburgh. March 8, 1708. He was the fourth son of Robert Campbell, of Glenlyon, by Elizabeth Smith, daughter of Smith, Esq., of Windsor. By his father, Dr. Camp- bell was connected with the noble family of Breadal- bane, and other distinguished Highland chiefs; by his mother, he was descended from the poet Waller. If we are not much mistaken, this distinguished writer was also allied to the famous Rob Roy Mac- gregor, whose children, at the time when Dr. Camp- bell enjoyed a high literary reputation in the metro- polis, must have been passing the lives of outlaws in another part of the country, hardly yet emerged from barbarism. When only five years of age he was conveyed from Scotland, which country he never afterwards saw, to Windsor, where he received his education under the care of a maternal uncle. It was attempted to make him enter the profession ot an attorney; but his thirst for knowledge rendered that disagreeable to him, and caused him to prefer the precarious life of an author by profession. It would be vain to enumerate the many works > t Dr. Campbell. His first undertaking of any magi was The Military Ihstcry of the Duke oj 'Marl'h >\ :ig>\ and Prince Eugene, winch appeared in I7V\ in two volumes folio, and was well received. He was next concerned in the preparation of the Ancient I >:r . > : Hiitory, which appeared in sever, folios, the la.-t being published in 1744. The part relai cosmogony, which is by far the most learned, wa- written by Dr. Campbell. In 1742 .r two first volumes of his I.ircs •'_'■'. ■ Aan::> :. , ami in 1744 the remaining two: this i- the orly work 1 t Dr. Campbell which has com present time, an acci I< : : : : ' grta '- measure, from the natui ' '• I he ac- tivity of Dr. Campbell at tl - ri 1 is very surpris- ing. In the same year in w last-menti< ned w Voyages ami Traze.'.-. in two volumes f bo. In 1745 302 DR. JOHN CAMPBELL. he commenced the publication of the Biographia Britannica, in weekly numbers. In this, as in all the other works of Dr. Campbell, it is found that he did not content himself with the ordinary duties of his profession as exercised at that time. While he wrote to supply the current necessities of the public, and of his own household, he also endeavoured to give his works an original and peculiar value. Hence it is found that the lives composing his Biographia Britannica are compiled with great care from a vast number of documents, and contain many striking speculations on literary and political subjects, cal- culated to obtain for the work a high and enduring character. The candour and benevolent feelings of Dr. Campbell have also produced the excellent effect of striking impartiality in the grand questions of re- ligious and political controversy. Though himself a member of the Church of England, he treated the lives of the great nonconformists, such as Baxter and Calamy, with such justice as to excite the admiration of their own party. Dr. Campbell's style is such as would not now perhaps be much admired; but it was considered by his own contemporaries to be superior both in accuracy and in warmth of tone to what was generally used. He treated the article "Boyle" in such terms as to obtain the thanks of John, fifth Earl of Orrery, "in the name of all the Boyles, for the honour he had done to them, and to his own judgment, by placing the family in such a light as to give a spirit of emulation to those who were hereafter to inherit the title." A second edition of the Biographia, with additions, was undertaken, after Dr. Campbell's death, by Dr. Kippis, but only carried to a fifth volume, where it stopped at the letter F. It is still in both editions one of the greatest works of reference in the language. While engaged in these heavy undertakings, Dr. Campbell occa- sionally relaxed himself in lighterworks, one of which, entitled Hermipptis Redivivus, is a curious essay, apparently designed to explain in a serious manner an ancient medical whim, which assumed that life could be prolonged to a great extent by inhaling the breath of young women. It is said that some grave physicians were so far influenced by this mock essay, as to go and live for a time in female boarding- schools, for the purpose of putting its doctrine to the proof. In reality the whole affair was a jest of Dr. Campbell, or rather perhaps a sportive exercise of his mind, being merely an imitation of the manner of Bayle, with whose style of treating controversial subjects he appears to have been deeply impressed, as he professedly adopts it in the Biographia Bri- tannica. In 1750 Dr. Campbell published his cele- brated work, '/'he Present State of Europe, which afterwards went through many editions, and was so much admired abroad, that a son of the Duke de Belleisle studied Fnglish in order to be able to read it. The vast extent of information which Dr. Camp- bell had acquired during his active life by conversa- tion, as well as by books, and the comprehensive powers of arrangement which his profession had already given him, are conspicuous in this work. lie was afterwards employed in writing some of the most important articles in the Modern Universal History, which extended to sixteen volumes folio, and was reprinted in a smaller form. His last great work was the " Political Survey of Britain, being a series of Reflections on the Situation, Lands, Inhabi- tants, Revenues, Colonies, and Commerce of this Island," which appeared in 1774, in two volumes 410, having cost him the labour of many years. Though its value is so far temporary, this is perhaps the work which does its author the highest credit. It excited the admiration of the world to such a degree as caused him to be absolutely overwhelmed with new corres- pondents. He tells a friend in a letter that he had already consumed a ream of paper (nearly a thousand sheets) in answering these friends, and was just breaking upon another, which perhaps would share the same fate. Dr. Campbell had been married early in life to Elizabeth, daughter of Benjamin Robe, of Leomin- ster, in the county of Hereford, gentleman, by whom he had seven children. Though it does not appear that he had any other resources than his pen, his style of life was very respectable. His time was so exclusively devoted to reading and writing, that he seldom stirred abroad. His chief exercise was an occasional walk in his garden, or in a room of his house. He was naturally of a delicate frame of body, but strict temperance, with the regularity of all his habits, preserved his health against the effects of both his sedentary life and original weakness, till his sixty-eighth year, when he died, December 28, 1775) m m H possession of his faculties, and without pain. It would only encumber our pages to recount all the minor productions of Dr. Campbell. A minute specification of them is preserved in the second edition of his Biographia Britannica, where his life was written by Dr. Kippis. So multitudinous, however, were his fugitive compositions, that he once bought an old pamphlet, with which he was pleased on dipping into it, and which turned out to be one of his own early writings. So completely had he forgot everything connected with it, that he had read it half through before he had discovered that it was written by himself. On another occasion, a friend brought him a book in French, which professed to have been translated from the Cerman, and which the owner recommended Dr. Campbell to try in an English dress. The doctor, on looking into it, discovered it to be a neglected work of his own, which had found its way into Cermany, and there been published as an original work. Dr. Campbell, in his private life, was a gentleman and a Christian: he possessed an acquaintance with the most of modern languages, besides Hebrew, Creek, and various oriental tongues. His best faculty was his memory, which was sur- prisingly tenacious and accurate. Dr. Johnson spoke of him in the following terms, as recorded by Boswell: "I think highly of Campbell. In the first place, he has very good parts. In the second place, he has very extensive reading; not, perhaps, what is properly called learning, but history, politics, and, in short, that popular knowledge which makes a man very useful. In the third place, he has learned much by what is called the voce viva. He talks with a great many people." The opportunities which Dr. Campbell enjoyed of acquiring information, by the mode described by Dr. Johnson, were very great. He enjoyed a universal acquaintance among the clever men of his time, literary and otherwise, whom he regularly saw in convcrsationes on the Sunday evenings. The advantage which a literary man must enjoy by this means is very great, for conversation, when it becomes in the least excited, strikes out ideas from the minds of all present, which would never arise in solitary study, and often brings to a just equilibrium disputable points which, in the cogitations of a single individual, would lie settled all on one side. Smollett, in enumerating the writers who had reflected lustre on the reign of Ceorge II., speaks of "the merit conspicuous in the works of Campbell, remarkable for candour, intelligence, and precision." It only remains to be mentioned, that this excellent man was honoured in 1754 with the degree of LL.D. by the university of C-lasgow, and LIEUT. -COL. JOHN CAMPBELL. 303 that, for some years before his death, having be- friended the administration of the Earl of Bute in his writings, he was rewarded by the situation of his majesty's agent for the province of Georgia. CAMPBELL, Lieutenant-colonel John, a distinguished soldier, was born at Edinburgh, De- cember 7, 1753. He was second son of John Camp- bell, Esq., of Stonefield, one of the judges of the court of session, and Lady Grace Stuart, sister to John, third Earl of Bute. Lord Campbell was a judge of the supreme court for the long period of thirty- nine years, and died on the 19th of June, 1801. His son John received the greater part of his education in his native city, the high-school of which he attended from the year 1 759 to 1 763. When eighteen years of age, he entered the army as ensign in the 57th regiment of foot; and in three years afterwards, was appointed to a lieutenancy in the 7th foot, or royal fusileers. With this regiment he served in Canada, and was made prisoner there, when that country was overrun by the American generals Montgomery and Arnold. Having obtained his release, he was two years afterwards, namely, in 1 775, appointed to a captaincy in the 7 Is t> or, as they were then called, Erazer's Highlanders; and with this corps he served in America, until towards the close of the war with that country, having been in the meantime appointed major of the 74-th regi- ment, or Argyleshire Highlanders. In February, 1781, Major Campbell exchanged into the iooth regiment, with which corps he em- barked in the expedition fitted out by the British government against the Cape of Good Hope, under the command of Commodore Johnston, and general, afterwards .Sir William Meadows. On this occasion, the general orders bore that the troops on board of the Porpoise and Eagle transports were to receive their orders from Major Campbell. Circumstances, however, having subsequently rendered it advisable, in the opinion of the commodore and general, not to make any attempt on the Cape, but rather to pro- ceed to the Fa--t Indies, to aid the British forces there, the transports proceeded to their new destina- tion, and arrived in Bombay in January, 17S2. In the February following, Major Campbell was ap- pointed to command the flank corps of a small army assembled at Calicut, on the Malabar coast, under the command of Lieutenant-colonel Humberston. This army marched into the interior, for the purpose of attacking Palagatcherry, an important stronghold of Hyder Ali; but it was found too strong to be assailed with any chance of success by so small a force as that which was now brought against it; Colonel Humberston, therefore, found it necessary to retreat, without attempting anything. During this retreat the British forces were for some time pursued by the enemy, who, however, were kept so effectually at bay by the retiring troops, that they were unable to obtain any advantage over them; and the sole merit of this was ascribed by the command- ing officer to the able and soldier-like manner in which Major Campbell covered the retreat, in which service he had a horse shot under him. The retreating army having reached Paniana, a British station, the command was assumed by Colonel Macleod, who made immediate preparations for re- ceiving the enemy, who, though now left at some distance in the rear, were still advancing. In the disposition of his forces on this occasion, Colonel Macleod confided the command 1 >t the centre to Major Campbell, who had. in the interim, been appointed to the majority of the second battalion of the 43d regiment. Theenemy, led by Tippoo Sultan, shortly afterwards appeared, and attacked the posts where Major Campbell and Major Shaw, who commanded the left, were situated; but was repulsed with such loss, that he retreated with his army to a considerable distance, and did not again seek to renew the con- test. In this engagement Major Campbell was wounded, but remained in the field till the enemy was defeated. The singular intrepidity and ad- mirable conduct which he displayed throughout the whole of this affair, called forth the warmest encom- iums from Colonel Macleod, who, in the general orders which he issued on the following day, bore the most flattering testimony to his merit s. The most important service in which Major Camp- bell was engaged was the siege of Annantpore, which he reduced and took from the enemy. In May, 1783, he was appointed by the governor and select committee of Bombay to the provisional command of the army in the Bidnure country, in absence of Colonel Macleod, who was prisoner with the enemy. Soon after Major Campbell had assumed the command, Tippoo having got possession of Bidnure, meditated an attack on Mangalore, where- Major Campbell was stationed; and with this view, and as a preparatory proceeding, he sent a detach- ment of his army, consisting of about 4000 horse and foot, and some field-pieces, in advance. Having been informed of the approach of these troops, Major Campbell marched from Mangalore at midnight, on the 6th of May, 1783, with 1400 men, with the inten- tion of surprising them; and in this he was eminently successful. He reached the enemy's camp about daybreak, attacked them, and instantly put them to the rout, capturing four brass field-pieces and I So draught bullocks — the latter a singularly valuable prize, as, from the country being in possession of the enemy, cattle was not to be had for the commissariat. This defeat of his detachment, however, instead of diverting Tippoo from his intended attack on Manga- lore, had the effect only of urging him to hasten his proceedings; and on the 19th of May his vanguard appeared in sight of that place, which by the 23d was regularly invested by an army, computed at not less than 140,000 men, accompanied by 100 pieces of artillery. Major Campbell's defence of this important fortress against such a prodigious force is justly reckoned one of the most remarkable achievements that ever dis- tinguished the British arms in India. The garrison under his command consisted only of 1SS3 men, and of these not more than 200 or 300 were British sol- diers, the remainder being sepoys or native infantry; and they were, besides, in want of almost every accommodation and comfort necessary to enable them to endure a siege. They were short of both. provisions and medicine; and. from the insufficient shelter which the fort afforded, they were exposed to the inclemencies of the monsoon. Xotwith.-t; all this, however, this little garrison resisted all th efforts of Tippoo, who commanded at the siege in peison, till the 2d of August, two nn ntl half, when, through the intervention ot the envoy from the French court at Tippoo"s durbar, .'. cita- tion of hostilities took place; but a- n meant, notwithstanding this parley, to give 1: contest, the siege was now convert! and though the garrison was thus relieved :: m the danger of casualties bv the han 1 • : ' enei y, it was not relieved from the miseries of famine, whn now reduced them to the last cxtrei tress. Soon after the cessation vi h >»t:l;ties took ] lace. - expressed a w ;-' I Major Campbell, whose bravery, though a enough to appreciate. Major Campbell accepted 3°4 REV. JOHN CAMPBELL. the invitation, and had an audience of the eastern potentate, who received him with much politeness, and paid him many flattering compliments. The major was accompanied by several of his officers on this occasion, and amongst these by two captains of the 42'J, in their full costume — a sight with which Tippoo was extremely delighted. To each of the officers he presented a handsome shawl; and after they had returned to the fort, he sent Major Campbell an additional present of a very fine horse, which the famishing garrison — such was the melancholy con- dition to which they were reduced — afterwards killed and ate. By the assistance of occasional but extremely in- adequate supplies of necessaries, which reached them from time to time by sea, the intrepid defenders of Mangalore held out till the 24th of January, 17S4, by which time they were reduced to the most deplorable condition by disease and famine, when Major Camp- bell determined on calling a council of war, to con- sider whether they should continue the defence or capitulate. The council decided on the latter, and terms were accordingly submitted to Tippoo, who accepted them; and on the 30th January the troops evacuated the fort, and embarked for Tillicherry, one of the British settlements on the coast of Malabar, after enduring, under all the disadvantageous circum- stances already related, a siege of eight months, and sustaining a loss in killed and wounded, besides other casualties, of no less than 749, nearly the half of the whole garrison. Though thus eventually compelled to capitulate, the service performed by Lieutenant-colonel Campbell (a rank to which he was promoted, 19th February, 1783), by the determined and protracted resistance he had made, was of the last importance to the British interests in India, inasmuch as it concentrated and occupied all Tippoo's forces for eight entire months, at a most critical period, and prevented him from attempting any hostile operations in any other part of the empire during all that time. Of the value of that service the government of Bombay expressed itself deeply sensible; and there is no doubt that some especial marks of its favour and approbation would have followed this expression of its sentiments regarding the conduct of Colonel Campbell, had he lived to receive them; but this was not permitted to him. He was not destined to enjoy the fame he had won, or to reap its reward. The fatigue he had undergone during the siege of Mangalore had under- mined his constitution, and brought on an illness, which soon terminated fatally. Under this affliction he quitted the army on the 19th February, and proceeded to Bombay, where he arrived on the 13th March, past all hope of recovery; and on the 23d of the same month he expired, in the thirty-first year of his age. A monument was erected to his memory in the church at Bombay, by order of the court of directors of the Kast India Com- pany, as a testimony at once to his merits, and of their gratitude for the important services he had rendered to the liritish interests in India. CAMPBELL, Rev. John. This active mis- sionary and enterprising traveller, whose many labours procured for him a high estimation in the Christian world, was born at Edinburgh in 1706. lie was the youngest of three sons, and had the misfortune to lose his father when only two years old, and his mother four years afterwards. Being placed under the guardianship of Mr. Bowers, his uncle, a pious elder or deacon of the Relief church, John was educated at the high-school of Edinburgh, then under the rectorship of Dr. Adams; but he never in after-life manifested any particular acquaintanceship with Latin and Greek. His restless temperament and enterprising spirit were more inclined to action than study, and might have led him headlong into evil, had they not been kept in check by the whole- some restraints and religious education established in his uncle's household. On finishing his education at the high-school, he was apprenticed to a gold- smith and jeweller in Edinburgh. Although at this early period he was deprived of the religious instruc- tions he had hitherto enjoyed, in consequence of the death of his uncle, the loss was in some measure supplied by diligent reading and anxious reflection, combined with the intercourse of pious acquaintances, whose benevolence was awakened by his orphan condition. As his years and experience increased, he became a visitor of the sick and dying poor, to whom he imparted the consolations of religion; as well as of the ignorant and the dissolute, whom he was anxious to enlighten and convert. In this way he became a city missionary among the murky lanes and closes of Edinburgh, at a time when such an office was most needed, and, as yet, little thought of. Mr. Campbell had now commenced that evan- gelistic public life which was to know neither rest nor interval; and while engaged in the shop of a hardware merchant, an occupation to which he had betaken himself, he was to become a correspondent of the principal characters of the religious world, and be connected with those great public enterprises in which they were the chief movers. But to a life of such varied action, notwithstanding its heroic disinterestedness and important results, we can only devote a very brief enumeration. One of the earliest of these labours was the estab- lishment of Sabbath-schools. At a time when domestic religious instruction was prevalent in Scot- land, their introduction, instead of being a benefit, would have been a mischievous intrusion. But now that this patriarchal style of life was fast passing into a new phase, and that the present was a transition period, which is generally a period fraught with danger, the old system of religious tuition was wofully in abeyance, while nothing as yet had been brought forward to supplement the deficiency. Sab- bath-schools, indeed, had even already been intro- duced into the country; but they were not only few, but regarded as a dangerous novelty — nay, a libel upon our covenanting and well-educated Scotland, whose religious character now stood so high among the nations of Christendom. And yet all the while there were thousands of children for whom no one cared, ami who were growing up in ignorance and profligacy, while every year was increasing the evil. Scotland, as is too often the case, was contentedly reposing upon her past character, and therefore blind to the present emergency. To this educational plan, so ungracious, and yet so needful, John Camp- bell directed his efforts. I Ie opened a large Sabbath- school in the old Archers' Hall; and, finding it suc- ceed, he opened another in the hall of the Edinburgh dispensary. Encouraged by the success of this bold experiment upon the capital, and by the Countess of Leven and several of our Scottish aristocracy, whose religious patriotism was awake to the true interests of their country, he now turned his attention to the rural districts, and opened a school at the village of Loanhead, a few miles distant from Edinburgh. Here he took his station exclusively as teacher, nnd so effectually, that he soon had 200 pupils. His zealous missionary labours in these and similar undertakings, introduced him to the Haldanes, men of congenial spirit, who were eager to second his efforts; and accordingly, in company with Captain REV. JOHN CAMPBELL 305 James Haldane, the younger brother, he set off on a tour through the west of Scotland, partly for the distribution of tracts, but mainly for the establishment of Sabbath-schools. With this view they visited Glasgow, Paisley, and Greenock; and although the trip occupied only a single week, the formation of sixty sch >ols was the result within three months after- wards. A system of religious education was thus prosperously commenced that was soon to overspread the country, and which, we trust, will continue, until society, still better christianized than it is at present, will revert to the good old plan of having the Sunday-school at home, with the head of the house as its zealous affectionate teacher. From Sabbath-school teaching to preaching was but a step, upon which Mr. Campbell next ventured; it was a change from growing to grown children, where the latter were to the full as unintelligent as the former, but with still greater need of the coer- cions of religion, while the kind of instruction which had been found so available with the one might be equally so with the other. He commenced in the first instance with Gilmerton, a village in the neigh- bourhood of Edinburgh, chiefly inhabited by colliers, the despised Pariahs of British society; and, having opened a preaching station for Sabbath evening service, he was aided in his labours by students of divinity and lay-preachers; and especially by Kate, Aikman, and the Haldanes, the fathers of Scottish Independency. Encouraged by the success of this trial upon Gilmerton, Messrs. Campbell, Rate, and fames Haldane resolved to attempt an itinerancy of lay-preaching over the whole of Scotland north of Edinburgh. It was a novel experiment, for, except the brief visits of Whitefield to Scotland, the prac- tice of preaching in the open air had been discon- tinued there since the happy accession of William and Mary to the throne. In every town and village to which they came, they announced their purpose and the place of muster, and there the crowds who assembled were roused anew with proclamations of those evangelical doctrines to which very few pulpits of the day were wont to give utterance. This, in- deed, was a sufficiently humble mode of preaching; but it was apostolic withal, and suited to the wants of the times; and one of the best fruits of this lay and out-of-door preaching was, that in the present day it is needed no longer. After he hail toiled in the work until he broke down from sheer exhaustion, and resumed it as soon as his health had recovered, Campbell saw with satisfaction this field successfully occupied by the Haldanes, and those whom they had trained to an itinerant ministry. I lithe: to it had been the reproach of Protest- antism, that it was not a missionary church. Now. however, the reproach was to be rolled away; and one of the first-fruits of this awakened sense of duty was the formation of the London Missionary Society, composed of Christians of all denominations, for a great united aggression upon the heathenism of the world. Similar institutions in connection with the parent branch began rapidly to be established in various cities; and among these, one of the first was in Edinburgh, of which Mr. Campbell was a director. In this way, while, to use the language of one of his biographers, "soldiers and sailors wrote to him for advice; the needy and greedy for money; the re- claimed outcasts for prayer and counsel; dark villages for itinerants; and chapel-builders for help;'" and all this while undergoing the weekly cares and I a tradesman in the How, and those of a village lay- preacher at Gilmerton on the Sabbath, he had the complicated concerns of a new missionary society superadded to his manifold occupations. Zeal, VOL. I. activity, sagacity, business-habits, prudence, per- suasiveness, were all in requisition for the discharge of so many duties: and all these qualities he brought so fully to the task, as to show that he was now in his congenial element. The condition of Africa employed his attention with reference to the estab- lishment of a mission at Sierra I.eone; but the unhealthiness of the climate along the coast, and the "terrible unknown" of the interior, equally seemed to bid defiance to the enterprise. In this trying dilemma, an expedient suggested itself to his mind as sufficient to obviate every difficulty; it was to obtain from the British settlement there' a number of native chddren of both sexes, and after educating them in Britain, to send them back as missionaries to their kindred and countrymen. The next step was to procure funds for such a costly but hopeful undertaking, and these were volunteered by Mr. Robert Haldane, who saw at once the soundness of the scheme. Twenty-four children were accordingly brought from Africa to London, and nothing re- mained but to forward them to Edinburgh, to be trained under the superintendence of those who had originated the plan. But here difficulties arose at the outset with which Mr. Campbell had nothing to do, and the children were educated in London. Still he had taught the way by which Africa was to be opened up, and its hitherto inaccessible region-; evangelized; and every succeeding year has justified the sagacity with which the expedient was devised, by the happy results that have already crowned it. It is upon native missions, perhaps, that we must ultimately rely for the Christianization both of India and Africa. Having been so successful as a home-missionary and lay-preacher, Mr. Campbell now thought it his duty to devote himself wholly to the ministerial work. He could accomplish this with greater facility, as the theological hall which the Indepen- dents had lately established required a shorter course of study than that prescribed by the regular colleges. This step also corresponded more fully with his views of church government, which ac- corded with Independency. He therefore repaired to Glasgow, and prosecuted his studies for the pur- pose under the Rev. Greville Ewing, who was at the head of the seminary. Here, also, he occasionally joined Mr. Haldane in his itinerary preaching tours; and on one occasion, in 1S02, he carried his labours through a considerable part of England, and officiated during part of the summer at Kingsland Chapel, Eon Ion. For two years after, Mr. Campbell itine- rated through various parts of Scotland and the northern counties of England, when, in 1S04. he received a regular call from the congregation ot Kingsland Chapel to become their minister. lie complied, and entered immediately with full ardour upon the sacred duties of his new office. Although now minister of a London chapel, the situation was by no means one either of distinction or emolument. On the contrary, the congregation were so po ■ .. his salarv therefore so scantv, that he was open a day-school in Kingsland, clerical duties. He was als 1 <_ li .I/,/ s ,;:;;/(-, a small religious pel commenced and superintended thr v nes. The remarkable activity of Mr. Cam; energy with which he entere 1 inl ' the varii >us rel . engaged, besides discharging the schoolmaster, editor, and itiner. dit him into notice in 1. 01 to the Lon i n Mi: -. nr.i \ .- -ic:\ the IV: lical wl ' tl 20 ";o6 REV. JOHN CAMPBELL LORD CAMPBELL. ploying him in an enterprise of the utmost import- ance. This was a tour of exploration through Caffraria, for the purpose of examining the state of the Hottentot and Caffre missions, now left helpless by the death of the lamented Dr. Vanderkemp. It was a commission fraught not only with difficulty but peril, but Campbell cheerfully undertook it. He was solemnly set apart for this purpose in Miles' Lane Chapel, the venerable Dr. Waugh presiding on that occasion. Losing no time, the minister of Kingsland Chapel left London on the 24th of June, 1812. Already he had confronted the fierce waves that girdle the Orkneys, and traversed its little islands to proclaim the gospel; but now he was to "brave the stormy spirit of the Cape," and explore its vast interior, upon a similar errand. His progress in South Africa fully justified the choice that had been made of him; for while no minister or missionary could have been more zealous, active, and efficient in the special duties of liis calling among the Christian stations which he visited, he added to these the qualifications of an intrepid, diligent, and enterprising traveller, alive to the interests of general knowledge and science, and sharply observant of every object in his way. Three thousand miles were traversed by him in a country as yet but little known to the British public, and, after an absence of nearly two years, he returned to England in May, 1814. He was not yet done, however, with .South Africa, for in little more than four years his services as a traveller, which already had been so useful, were again in requisition. A second journey over the same country was the consequence, which occupied two years and a half, and he returned to London in 1821, just in time for the missionary May meetings, which he gratified by the rich fund of intelligence which he brought from the land of his adventurous pilgrimage. Altogether his published account of these two journeys not only threw much light upon the interior of South Africa, but brought into full view whole towns and tribes whose existence had as yet been unknown in Europe. it was indeed a valuable addition to that portion of the map which had hitherto been little more than a blank, or a few conjectural lines. In consequence of these services, the London Missionary Society were anxious that he should resume his pilgrim's staff, and make a similar exploration of the stations they had established in the Polynesian Islands. But this application he respectfully declined. After his second return from Africa, in consequence of the death of his aunt, and marriage of his niece, who had hitherto been his housekeepers, he took to him- self a partner of his home, and resumed his minis- terial duties at Kingsland Chapel. The rest of the life of Mr. Campbell, which was chiefly spent in London, was marked by the same earnest diligence and usefulness which had hitherto characterized it. Decidedly a man of action, his hours, his very minutes, were all turned to good account, while his cheerful lively humour continued to animate him to the last. J I is piety, his vigorous sound sense, his fluency as a speaker, and his jokes, always made him a favourite upon a London religious platform; and as soon as his little compact figure, dark complexion, and cheerful look, were presented to address them, the whole meeting brightened up with expectation, and hailed him with applauding welcome. Thus he continued unbent and unbroken until he had passed the boundary of threescore and ten, when he was attacked at the commencement of 1840 by his last illness. His end was one full of peace and hope, and his only disquietude was from the thought, that, in spite of all lie had done, he had not done enough — that he had not done what he could. A few hours before he died, the missionary spirit that had so essentially predominated during life was strongest within him, and in broken accents of prayer he exclaimed unconsciously, "Let it fly! let the gospel fly!" His death occurred on the 4th of April, 1840. CAMPBELL, The Right' Hon. John, Lord- chancellor of England. The remarkable rise of this Scotsman, who, without the advantages of birth, rank, genius, or even polished manners and in- gratiating address, fought his way from the humble condition of an unbefriended student of Lincoln's Inn to the highest office which the law can bestow — and this, too, in the nineteenth century, when men of the highest talent were so abundant — contains an important lesson which his countrymen would do well to study. It shows what a resolute unconquer- able will, steady perseverance, and clear good sense can achieve, even although those higher qualities and advantages which are thought essential to success should be wanting. His father, the Rev. Dr. Campbell, like all of his name, claimed a descent from the illustrious house of Argyle, through a junior branch of that family; but this was little better than a mythic distinction, as he held no higher situation than that of minister of the county town of Cupar, Fifeshire. In 1776 he married a Miss Halyburton, through whom he be- came connected, but distantly, with several noble families, among which was that of Wedderburn, the lord-chancellor. By this lady he became the father of five daughters, one of whom married Dr. Thomas Gillespie, minister of Cults, and professor of human- ity in the university of St. Andrews; and two sons, the younger of whom, and subject of the present memoir, was born at Springfield, near Cupar, on September 15, 1779. After the ordinary education at the grammar-school of Cupar, John was sent at a very early age to the university of St. Andrews, with a view of being educated for the church; but after taking his degree of M.A., he resolved to adopt the profession of the law, and for this purpose went to London, and entered himself a student of Lincoln's Inn in November, 1800. Here he was fortunate to have for his guide and instructor in the study of special pleading, Mr. Tidd, whom his grateful pupil thus commemorates: "To the unspeakable advantage of having been three years his pupil, I chiefly ascribe my success at the bar. 1 have great pride in re- cording that, when at the end of my first year, he discovered that it would not be quite convenient for me to give him a second fee of 100 guineas, he not only refused to take a second, but insisted on return- ing me the first. Of all the lawyers I have ever known he had the finest analytical head, and, if he had devoted himself to science, I am sure he would have earned great fame as a discoverer. His dis- position and his manners made him universally be- loved." On his arrival in London Campbell naturally associated with his own countrymen, and those especially who were in like circumstances with him- self. There was at this time in the great metropolis a club of young Scottish adventurers who were sons of clergymen of the Church of Scotland, of which Serjeant Spankie and Wilkie the painter were members, ami to this club Campbell joined himself, being delighted with its associating sentiment thus happily expressed by Wilkie, "Born in the manse, we have all a patent of nobility." This sentiment Campbell delighted to quote long afterwards, when he occupied a place among the British peerage. To LORD CAMPBELL. 3°7 be enabled, however, to study law, and afterwards to await the coming of practice, was his most serious consideration; and to effect this, he supported him- self, like many of his brethren in London, by con- tributing to the public prints. For this purpose he obtained an introduction to his countryman, the well-known Mr. Perry, proprietor of the Morning Chronicle; and on this paper he was employed as a reporter as well as theatrical critic, which last office he continued to hold until 1810. These were curious occupations for a raw young Scotsman who could scarcely speak intelligible English; but Campbell had a fund of talent within himself, which was adequate for such work, and a resolution that soon surmounted its difficulties, and made the task an easy and agreeable occupation. Nor was the office of reporter to a London newspaper without its literary dignity, as considerable scholarship was required for it, while not a few who had held the office were among the best writers of the day. Thus trained for his profession by careful study of the law, and the analytical practice of a literary critic, Campbell was called to the English bar in Michael- mas term, 1806. He travelled the Oxford circuit, where he soon obtained considerable practice, and formed an intimate acquaintance with the late Judge Talfourd, in consequence of their mutual sympathy for the drama. But London was his proper place of business, and it was to its practice that he looked for advancement in his profession. To succeed in this it was necessary to be in favour with the attorneys, and in one of his biographical sketches, he remarks of Pratt, that "he persevered for eight or nine years, but not inviting attorneys to dine with him, and never dancing with their daughters, his practice did not improve." Campbell wisely avoided this rock, and by more dignified methods than dancing and dinner-giving: between 1S09 and 1816 he published a series of reports at Xisi Prius, extending to four volumes. No greater boon could have been con- ferred upon the attorneys, and especially on those who had personally to do with the trials; for at the end of each decision were the names of those attor- ney.-! who had been employed in the trial — a practice wholly new in the history of law-reporting. It was right that the man who thus honoured them should be favoured in return, and the leading solicitors gave him extensive practice, especially in shipping cases, and he was retained in nearly every important case tried before a special jury at the Guildhall sittings. But a higher popularity than that of the attorneys attended the publication of these four volumes; they were received as the admirably-reported decisions of Lord Ellensborough; and Campbell valued himself not without cause in having contributed to found that great lawyer's reputation. In this way John Campbell continued his course from year to year, finding pleasure from that which to others is a toil and a weariness. But although his practice was constantly increasing, he had as yet received none of those honorary appointments that would have been conferred upon one still less dis- tinguished in his profession — and for this neglect his political sentiments may account. He was a Whig, and the patronage of government was still confined to the opposite party. In 1821 lie married Mary Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Sir James Scarlett, afterwards Lord Abinger — a lady who, to her other attractions, added that of being descended from the Campbells through her mother, the third daughter of Mr. Peter Campbell of Kilmorcy, Argyleshire. In 1S27, when the coalition ministry came into j- iwer, and lawyers of talent were favoured irrespec- tive of their polities. John Campbell shared in the new promotions, by obtaining the honour of a silk gown, and a seat within the bar. As the Whigs were now acquiring the ascendency, he resolved to profit in the rise of his party by obtaining a seat in parliament; he accordingly became a candidate for Stafford, and was successful, in consequence of which he represented Stafford during 1830 and 1831. In November, 1832, Campbell was appointed soli- citor-general, and in the following month was a member of the first reformed parliament, l>eing re- turned for Dudley. "Plain John Campbell" was now Sir John, with the prospect of becoming some- thing higher still; and in February, 1S34, the way to this rise was opened by his appointment to the office of attorney-general; and although he was rejected in the re-election for Dudley, he was soon after repre- sentative in parliament for Edinburgh, in consequence of the retirement of Francis Jeffrey on being ap- pointed a lord of session. As attorney-general, Sir John Campbell conferred important and lasting services upon the country, by inaugurating a series of legal reforms, which has been continued from year to year. Among these services was the introduction of the act called "Lord Camp- bell's Act," for the amendment of the law of libel as it affects newspapers, by which the proprietor is permitted to pay a small sum into court, and to escape further damages by proving both that the libel had appeared without malice, and that it was followed by the insertion of an apology. Another beneficial measure of Sir John was the introduction of a bill to limit the powers of arrest, by which the judge was required to be satisfied on oath before the order was issued, and the defendant permitted, when arrested, to dispute the plaintiff 's affidavit, and thereby obtain liberation. While thus employed as a legis- lator, Sir John's career as a barrister continued to acquire additional lustre, and his speeches upon the important trials in which he was engaged were reckoned master-pieces of that diligence, accuracy, and clearness of statement in which he excelled, and which had generally been found more available than the highest style of forensic eloquence. The chief of these occasions was in his defence of Lord Mel- bourne, in the action for damages raised by Mr. Norton, in a charge so damaging, that had it been established against the premier, it was thought that the stability of the Melbourne cabinet would have been seriously affected by the issue. Sir John so effectually rebutted the charge, and proved the inno- cence of the calumniated lady, that a unanimous acquittal was the result; and when Sir John, after the trial, entered the House of Commons near mid- night, he was greeted by the cheers of the members present. Notwithstanding his appointment to the high office of attorney-general, Sir John Campbell's merits had scarcely been adequately rewarded, and several law-officers were promoted over his head whose services were not equal to his own. Aware, indeed, of his worth, and that he might not be safely neglected, the Melbourne cabinet endeavoured to propitiate him by raising his lady to the peerage in her own right, under the title of Paroness Stratheden. Finding that this was not enough, they projected a bill "for facilitating the administration of just equity," under which lie also would have been raised to the peerage. But the Melbourne mini-try was already falling, and th >n was un- willing to admit a bill that w< 11 1 : . have armed their opponents with fresh influence, through the power of creating new appointments. Thus matters con- tinued from 1S36 to [S41. when an o] eningaj ] < ired for Sir John Cam: bell's [ romotion, in consequence 3oS LORD CAMPBELL THOMAS CAMPBELL. of the retirement of Lord Plunkett from the office of chancellor of Ireland. Sir John was raised to the chancellorship, and also to the peerage towards the end of June, and went to Ireland as the head of the legal profession in that country. But there he did not stay one short month, or sit in court more than a day or two, and in the September following he resigned with the Melbourne ministry. "He re- tained," says his biographer in the Times, "the title and a pension of ^"4000 a year; but he declined the pecuniary reward, and lived for the next five years without office, profession, salary, or pension." Lord Campbell was now in the miserable plight of a restless, active, laborious man, having nothing to do; and a leading part in a parliamentary debate, or a forensic duel with Lord Brougham, were the only safety-valves by which his superfluous energies could be let off. In this condition his mind turned to the happy days of his youth, when literary occupation was enough for his enjoyment, and he resolved to resume his pen, and console himself in its exercise until fresh paths for his activity should open up. His early aspirations after literary fame had never been extinguished, and now was the time to indulge them to the full. He cast about for a subject, and none appeared to him so fit, or so tempting, as Lives of the Chancellors. It was one best suited to his studies and professional knowledge — and it has been surmised that, in his choice of such a sub- ject, he had himself an eye to the chancellorship, when his party should be recalled to office. The first scries of the Lives of the Chancellors was pub- lished early in 1846. The work immediately became popular, and the public pleasure enjoyed in its perusal was enchanced by the wonder, that a lawyer so steeped in his profession could have produced such learned, vigorous, life-like sketches. They did not know that his early studies had all but intro- duced him into the office of a churchman, and that the career of a student at a Scottish university is peculiarly adapted for the study of biography. Per- haps they were equally unaware of the practice he hail acquired as a journalist, when his slashing literary and political articles, and critiques on plays and actors, had enlightened and amused the early days of their fathers. This work Lord Campbell followed by Lives of the Chief-justices, written in the same strain. Of these two biographical works, it would be too much to say that they are grave, elaborated, and elegant productions. Notwith- standing the liveliness of their style, they are care- lessly and incorrectly written, and where effect was to be produced he has yielded too much to the gossip or the scandal of the period. But these disqualifications of the Lives are far more than coun- terpoised by their merits; and the following observa- tion-- of the Times are as just as they are laudator}-: "With all its defects, however, moral and critical, the portraiture in these volumes is sharp and life- like; there is very little of what he called 'flummery' in his observations; every page is full of interesting matter, displaying immense stores of information at once various and minute, while he deserves credit for the impartiality with which on the whole he has appreciated the characters and acN of politicians differing from him in opinion. The subject was most happily chosen, and the work has been exe- cuted with an ability which precludes any future biographer from lightly attempting the same theme." In 1846, when Lord John Russell's cabinet was formed, it was expected that Lord Campbell would have obtained the great seal; but instead of this, he was offered nothing higher than the chancellorship of the duchv of Lancaster. At this he demurred, but finally closed with the offer, when the premier had said to him, "Remember, the office has been held by Sir Thomas More and by Dunning." Although he had thus a seat in the cabinet, his literary occupa- tions went on without interruption, so that while he held the chancellorship of the duchy, he published several volumes of his biographical series. At length he was recalled from his studies to the work of active life in 1850, when Lord Denman having resigned the chief-justiceship of the Queen's Bench, Lord Campbell was appointed in his room. It was no light task to be the successor of Lord Denman, who, besides being an able and skilful lawyer, and eloquent orator, possessed a noble and commanding presence, which compelled respect, while Lord Campbell was neither dignified in appearance nor eloquent of speech, and laboured under the addi- tional disadvantage that his judicial faculty had scarcely as yet been called into action. The contrast, indeed, was so striking, that Lord John Campbell's appointment excited great wonderment and con- siderable dissatisfaction. But even these obstacles he could surmount through that energy which had never failed him, so that he first equalled, and finally- surpassed, thedistinction of his illustrious predecessor. Having held the important office of lord chief-justice during nine years with a reputation that was growing every year, Lord Campbell attained his highest and last promotion in 1859, when, in consequence of Lord Palmerston's accession to power, he was selected to fill the office of lord-chancellor, while the appointment gave general satisfaction. In this manner, and step by step, the son of an obscure Scottish clergyman — without patronage, without family influence, without personal advantages, and even without pecuniary means to smooth the diffi- culties of the commencement — fought his way onward and upward from the condition of a lawyer's clerk dependent upon literary labour for his subsistence, to the highest office which a lawyer or a subject can attain. How ably and uprightly during the eleven last years of his life he discharged his duties as lord- chancellor the present generation has felt, and future years will commemorate. The death of John Lord Campbell was not only sudd' but startling. Living in an age distinguished by V number of its political octogenarians, his vigorous frame and healthy constitution, although he had reached the age of fourscore, seemed to hold out the promise of several years longer, closed by a gentle and gradual decay. On the day preceding his death he was engaged in his ordinary pursuits; in the afternoon he attended a meeting of the cabinet council at Downing Street; and in the evening he entertained a party of eighteen at dinner, where his conversation was of its usual lively character, without any symptom of illness. At one o'clock he bade his daughters good night in the drawing-room, and re- tired to rest; but in the morning at eight o'clock when the butler entered his lordship's bedroom, he found him seated insensible upon a chair, with his head thrown back, and blood oozing from his mouth. It was found that the rupture of a blood-vessel near the region of the heart had caused his death, which must have been instantaneous. Thus silently John Lord Campbell passed away on Sunday morning, the 23d of June, 1861. By baroness Stratheden, who died about a year previously, the deceased left issue, three sons and four daughters. I lis remains were interred within the ruins of Jedburgh Abbe}', near which he had purchased an estate. CAMPBELL, Thomas. This poet, so justly and poetically called the "Bard of Hope," was born at THOMAS CAMPBELL. 309 Glasgow on the 27th of July, 1777. Like many of his name, he could trace his descent through an illustrious ancestry; but to these genealogies he was indifferent, being contented to be known as the son of Alexander Campbell, merchant, Glasgow, and one of a family of eleven children. The poet was espe- cially fortunate in the intellectual character of his parentage, his father being the intimate friend of Reid, author of the Inquiry into the Human Mind, while his mother was distinguished by her love of general literature, combined with sound understand- ing and a refined taste. Dull, indeed, would that mind naturally be, that could be nursed up under such guardianship to nothing better than mediocrity. liven at the early age of ten, Thomas Campbell had irrevocably become a poet, and such of his produc- tions, composed at that season, as have been pre- served, exhibit the delicate appreciation of the grace- ful flow and music of language for which his poetry was afterwards so highly distinguished. He entered the college of Glasgow in 1 791, already a ripe scholar in Latin and Greek — an unwonted circumstance among the young students of our northern univer- sities; and there he had the high privilege of study- ing under Richardson, the talented and elegant professor of humanity, and Young, one of the most enthusiastic Grecians and accomplished scholars of the day. The example of the latter was not lost 11 [ion the congenial mind of his pupil; and the poetical translations which Thomas Campbell produced at this period, as class exercises, from the Medea of Euripides, as well as other Greek poets, showed not only his mastery of the language in which they wrote, but the power he already possessed over his own. S une who are alive can still remember the pleasure with which Professor Young, in his college prelec- tions, was wont to advert to these translations, and the pupil by whom they had been produced. Even in original poetry, also, Campbell was at this period distinguished above all his class-fellows, so that, in 1793, his Poem on Description obtained the prize in the logic class, although it was composed four years previous, and when he had not passed the age of twelve. Besides being distinguished as a poet and scholar at college, he was also well known as a wit and satirist, and his lampoons were as much dreaded as his lyrics were admired; while his mots were so plentiful, that the usual morning question of the students was, "What has Tom Campbell been say- ing?" Being of a slim delicate figure, and fond of a place near the class-room fire before the professor had entered, but finding it generally surrounded by a phalanx of Irish students, through which he could not break, he used often to disperse it, by causing their attention to be directed to some new roguish effusion he had written on the wall, which was cer- tain to send them all scampering to the place of in- scription. On one of these occasions, hearing that he had just written a libel against their country, they rushed away from the blazing grate in fervent wrath to the pencilled spot on the wall, and read, not in rage, but with roars of good-humoured laughter: — Hi!* 1 1 ';> »nn in — p The great choice of life, whether as to occupation or principles, is often determined by some incident so minute a.> to escape notice. And such was the case with Thomas Cam] 'bell. In common with most youthful minds, before their classical impres- sions have come in contact with the stern realities of every-day life, his whole heart was with Greece and Rome, with Brutus and Cassius, with libertvand the enemies of oppression. With him, as with others, all this might have faded away like a dream of boy- hood, but for an event that indelibly stamped these feelings upon his mind, and made them become the regulating principles of his after-life. It was now the season when the example of the French revolu- tion was at its height, so that even the grave and solid intellect of Scotland became giddy for a moment in the whirl; and the trials of Muir, Palmer, Gerald, and others, showed how narrowly our country had escaped the establishment of a convention modelled upon that of Erance. While these trials were going on, the young poet felt an impatient longing to visit Edinburgh, and witness the proceedings; to which his affectionate mother assented. He was to travel to the metropolis and return on foot, a journey of eighty-four miles; and to defray the expenses of such a pilgrimage, he thought himself richly furnished by the sum of $s., which she gave him for the purpose. He reached Edinburgh with a light foot and buoyant heart, and repaired to the parliament-house, where the trial of Gerald was going on; and it was easy for an imagination such as his to convert the eloquent and impassioned culprit at the bar into a patriot of the old heroic ages, pleading less for his own life than the liberties of his country. "Gentlemen of the jury," said Gerald, at the close of his appeal, "now that I have to take leave of you for ever, let me remind you that mercy is no small part of the duty of jurymen; that the man wdio shuts his heart on the claims of the unfortunate, on him the gates of mercy will be shut, and for him the Saviour of the world shall have died in vain." Campbell was deeply impressed by these thrilling words, and the universal unbreathing silence of the multitude that listened; and his emotion at last found vent in the exclama- tion, "By heavens, sir, that is a great man!" "Ay, sir," replied the man beside him, apparently a decent tradesman, to whom the remark was addressed, "he- is not only a great man himself, but he makes every other man great who listens to him." Campbell returned to Glasgow, a sadder at least, if not a wiser man, and, to the astonishment of his companions, his jokes and flashes of merriment were now laid aside. He had imbibed those impressions in behalf of freedom, and that hatred of oppression, which burst forth so indignantly in the Pleasures oj Hope — that ran like an electric gleam through the whole extent of his subsequent productions — and that finally, at his opened grave, called forth the tears of unhappy Poland, represented by the weeping group of her children who stood over it. He was now, and ever after, to be the poet of liberty. When Campbell reached the age of twenty, he had completed five sessions at the university of Glasgow, during the greater part of which he had been obliged, through the mercantile losses of his father, to contribute to his own support by lessons in Latin and Greek as a private tutor. I ."iig before this period he had endeavoured to choice of a profession, but had been unable to settle upon any; law, medicine, merchandise, the church, had successively presented themselves, and been each in turn abandoned. Already. 1; idea of literature as a profession had him; and he was now in Edinl -, with the publishers of the day, and sup] the meantime, by the drudgen ■ ■: ' until some path' could be strucl - own talents, or some offer made to bookseller. But ever. W 'W, :" .'. - >. 1 upon the Plea ... // , beautiful episodes 1 :' 1 the brighter and more attractive THOMAS CAMPBELL. the darkness that beset him. Such, at this period, was the condition of the young aspirant for literary and poetical fame. If to this the following sketch of him, by a lady, be added, the picture will be complete: — "Mr Campbell's appearance bespoke instant favour; his countenance was beautiful, and as the expression of his face varied with his various feelings, it became quite a study for a painter to catch the fleeting graces as they rapidly succeeded each other. The pensive air which hung so grace- fully over his youthful features gave a melancholy interest to his manner, which was extremely touch- ing. But when he indulged in any lively sallies of humour, he was exceedingly amusing; every now and then, however, he seemed to check himself, as if the effort to be gay was too much for his sadder thoughts, which evidently prevailed." "And now," he says of himself, "I lived in the Scottish metropolis by instructing pupils in Greek and Latin. In this vocation I made a comfortable livelihood as long as I was industrious. But the Pleasures of Hope came over me. I took long walks about Arthur's Seat, conning over my own (as I thought them) magnificent lines; and as my Pleasures of Hope got on, my pupils fell off." At last the work was finished and published, and the celebrity which it reached was sufficient to compensate the author for all his past anxieties. In fact, it took the public mind by storm; and while commendation in all its forms was exhausted in lauding it, the universal wonder was, that such a poem should have been produced by a youth not more than twenty-one years old. Several of the most distinguished of the Edin- burgh literati had already been prepared to estimate its merits from quotations which they had heard from the manuscript. But with those who were not thus forewarned, the first sight of the work was irre- sistible. Among these was the learned and accom- plished Dr. Gregory, who, in stepping into the shop of Mr. Mundell, the publisher, saw the volume, fresh from the press, lying on the counter. "Ah! what have we here?" he said, taking it up; "the Pleasures of Hope.'''' He looked between the uncut leaves, and was so struck with the beauty of a single passage that he could not desist until he had read half the work. "This is poetry," he enthusiastically exclaimed; and added, "Where is the author to be found? I will call upon him immediately." The promise of the professor was quickly fulfilled, and from that period he became one of Campbell's warmest friends and admirers. Having thus established for himself a high reputa- tion by his first attempt, and being still in the open- ing of life, Thomas Campbell was impatient to see the world, and resolved, for this purpose, to take a trip into some foreign country. The proceeds of his work had furnished him with the means, and therefore he had only to select the route of his pil- grimage. His choice settled upon Germany, al- ready become famous in Scotland by its rising litera- ture, and the works of Wieland, Schiller, and Goethe. He crossed over to Hamburg, where his fame had already preceded him, so that he received an enthusiastic welcome from the British residents of that mercantile city. He soon found, however, that he had stumbled unexpectedly upon the out- posts of a great and momentous war, so that he was obliged to direct his course according to its move- ments. Hut such was the rapidity of the French armies, that even an unencumbered traveller could scarcely avoid them; and on his arriving at Ratisbon, war was raging round its suburbs, and, finally, the French within its gates. Thus Campbell found himself in a situation that falls to the lot of few poets; he was likely to be the witness, as well as the eulogist and recorder, of great military achievements. From the ramparts close to the Scotch monastery, he witnessed the conflict that gave to the French the possession of Ratisbon, and thus describes the spectacle in a letter to his brother: "Never shall time efface from my memory the recollection of that hour of astonishment and expended breath, when I stood, with the good monks of St. James, to over- look a charge of Klenau's cavalry upon the French under Grenier. We saw the fire given and returned, and heard distinctly the sound of the French pas-de- charge collecting the lines to attack in close column. After three hours, awaiting the issue of a severe action, a park of artillery was opened just beneath the walls of the monastery, and several drivers that were stationed there to convey the wounded in spring- waggons were killed in our sight." In a subsequent account of the event, he adds: — "This formed the most important epoch in my life, in point of impres- sions; but those impressions at seeing numbers of men strewn dead on the field, or, what was worse, seeing them in the act of dying, are so horrible to my memory that I study to banish them. At times, when I have been fevered and ill, I have awoke from nightmare dreams about these dreadful images." Amidst these fluctuations produced by the war, the poet's rambles were brief and irregular. He re- turned to Hamburg, visiting Leipsic and a few other towns in his course northward, and finally settled for the winter at Altona. During his residence near the historic and picturesque banks of the Danube, he had composed, or revised for the press, fourteen poetical productions, of which, however, only four were ultimately published. His well-known deli- cacy, not to say fastidiousness of taste, will suffi- ciently account for this reticence. Altona was soon no safe residence, on account of Denmark's secret alliance with France; and the appearance of the British fleet off the Sound gave sudden warning to our traveller to provide for his safety. He therefore embarked in a small trading vessel bound for Leith; but in consequence of a chase from a Danish priva- teer, Campbell was landed at Yarmouth, to which the vessel fled for shelter. A trip to London natu- rally followed; and for the first time he visited the mighty metropolis, little guessing, as he paced along its apparently interminable streets, that he should afterwards see this vastness doubled. After a short stay in the capital, where his Pleasures of Hope was a passport to the best of London society, he directed his course homeward. Even yet the inconveniences of his visit to the seat of war had not ended. "Re- turning to Edinburgh by sea," he writes in his me- moranda of iSoi, "a lady, passenger by the same ship, who had read my poems, but was personally unacquainted with me, told me, to my utter astonish- ment, that 1 had been arrested in London for high treason, was confined to the Tower, and expected to be executed! I was equally unconscious of hav- ing either deserved or incurred such a sentence."' He found, however, on reaching Edinburgh, that this ridiculous report was no matter to be laughed at, for it was already buzzed through the streets of the northern capital, and had reached the ears ol his anxious mother, who now resided in the city. It was a wild period of rumour and suspicion; and he found that the fact of his having messed with the French officers at Ratisbon during the armistice, been introduced to the gallant Moreau, and .sailed as fellow-passenger with an Irishman of the name of Donovan, had been amplified into a plot con- certed between himself, Moreau, and the Irish at Hamburg, to land a French army in Ireland. He THOMAS CAMPBELL. waited upon Mr. Clerk, the sheriff of Edinburgh, to refute this report, and testify his loyalty at head- quarters ; but here he found, to his astonishment, that the sheriff believed in his guilt, and that a war- rant was issued for his apprehension. This was in- tolerable, and Campbell eould not help exclaiming, "Do I live to hear a sensible man like you talking about a boy like me conspiring against the British empire?" He offered himself for a strict examina- tion previous to being sent to prison, and the inquisi- tion was held amidst an array of clerks ready to note down his answers. A box of letters and papers which he had left at Yarmouth to be forwarded to Edinburgh, but which had been seized at Leith, was at the same time brought forward, opened, and care- fully examined. But the contents soon put all sus- picion to the rout : nothing in the whole collection could be found more treasonable than Ye Mariners of England, which was already prepared for the press, with a few others of its afterwards distin- guished brethren. "This comes of trusting a Ham- burg spy!" cried the discomfited sheriff; for it seems that a rogue in Hamburg had been manufacturing for the credulity of his employers on this side of the water such treason as he could not find ready-made, and had treasured up Campbell's movements there as a fit groundwork for his ingenuity. The whole inquest ended in a hearty laugh and a bottle of wine. On returning to Edinburgh, Campbell found that instant action was necessary. His father had died during his absence in Germany; his widowed mother, now old and frail, was in necessitous circumstances; and his three sisters were all invalids under the maternal roof. It was also such a period of scarcity and mercantile depression over the whole island, that the prices of the common necessaries of life were nearly doubled, so that famine-riots, popularly called meal-mobs, became the order of the day among the lower classes. Urged by present emer- gencies, he betook himself, in the first instance, to the precarious resources of miscellaneous authorship, until something more permanent could be adopted. This latter opportunity seemed to occur from an in- vitation he received from Lord Minto to visit him in London; and on Campbell's repairing thither, in 1S02, he was employed by his lordship as private secretary, and afterwards as travelling companion to Scotland. During this temporary absence from Edinburgh he had composed LochieVs Warning and the Battle of Hohenlinden. This, in the estimation of modern authorship, will appear to be very slow- progress; but even in the most depressed period of his circumstances, his aim was to write for immor- tality, so that every expression was carefully con- sidered, and every line touched and retouched, be- fore it could satisfy that most severe of all critics — himself. Even that striking line — "Coming events cast their shadows before," had cost him a whole week of study and anxiety. But who will say that the price of such a stanza was too high. Writing of the poet to a friend at this time, Telford, the celebrated engineer, asks, "Have you seen his Lochiel? lie will surpass everything ancient or modern — your Pindars, your Drydens, and your Grays." A similar feeling, but in a more poetical fashion, was expressed of its merits by Mrs Dugald Stewart, wife of the distinguished philoso- pher. When the poet read it to her in manuscript, she listened in deep silence, and when it was finished, she gravely rose, laid her hand upon his head, and said, "This will bear another wreath of laurel yet," alter which she retired to her seat without uttering another word. "This," said Campbell, "made a stronger impression upon my mind than if she had spoken in a strain of the loftiest panegyric. It was one of the principal incidents in my life that gave me confidence in my own powers." After having laboured for some time in fugitive articles for the newspapers, and the compilation of history for the booksellers of Edinburgh, by which he managed to secure a respectable temporary liveli- hood, Campbell once more repaired to London. A poet by choice, he was now a prose author from necessity, and the British metropolis he knew to be the best mart in which his literary commodities could find a ready sale. Here, then, he was em- ployed fagging, as he informs us, for ten hours a-day, and purloining the opportunity for calls and recrea- tion from the hours of sleep. At this time, also, he published the seventh edition of the Pleasures of Hope, and several of his smaller pieces, in a quarto volume, which brought him such a profitable return as to relieve him from all his pecuniary embarrass- ments, as well as his anxieties about the future. This happy deliverance he forthwith proceeded to signalize in a fitting manner, by selecting for himself a permanent home, and a partner to gladden it. He married one who had been the object of his youth- ful admiration nine years before, and had latterly become the object of his more matured affections. This was Matilda Sinclair, daughter of his mother's cousin, a gentleman who had formerly been a wealthy merchant and provost in Greenock, and was now a trader in London. The prudent father demurred at the thought of bestowing his daughter upon one who, kinsman though he was, and now of high reputation, was still nothing more than a poet. It was indeed a perilous venture; but the ardour of the young couple overpowered the old man's scruples, and wrung from him a reluctant assent. They were married on the loth September, 1S03. It was a poetical union, for Campbell's whole fortune at this time amounted to the sum of f^o; but he had fifty thousand pleasures of hope in perspective, and wa.- therefore rich in his own imagination. At length he became a lather; and here we cannot refrain from quoting his own account of feelings so common to every father at the arrival of his first-born, but which Campbell, in a letter announcing the event, has de- scribed with such -beauty and tenderness: — "Our first interview was when he lay in his little crib, in the midst of white muslin and dainty lace, prepared by Matilda's hands long before the stranger's arrival. I verily believe, in spite of my partiality, that lovelier babe wa> never smiled upon by the light of heaven. He was breathing sweetly in his first sleep. I durst not waken him, but ventured to give him one ki>-. He gave a faint murmur, and opened his little azure lights. . . . Oh, that I were sure he would live to the days when I could take him on my knee. and feel the strong plumpness of childhood waxing into vigorous youth! My poor boy! shall I have the ecstasy of teaching him thoughts, and know '. ge, and reciprocity of love to me? It is bold to v into futurity so far. At present, his lovely '. ti is a comfort to me; his lips breathe th which it is one of the lovelie>t kii that she has given to infant — a sw :: -- : smell more delightful than all ' inures < : A What adorable beauties of God a: unty we live in without knowing! How tew have ever seemed to think an infant beautiful! But 1 there seems to be a beauty in the earliest dawn . :_ infancy, which is not int'ei r t I ittra ti Childhood— eSpeJ . excite a more tender ti ti ns. It is l;ke 312 THOMAS CAMPBELL. the tremulous anxiety we feel for a candle new lighted, which we dread going out." Such was an event, which, though an important era in the life of every man, is especially so in that of a poet; and such is the description, which none but a poet, and that of the highest order, could have so embodied. To our thinking, the above quotation may take its place in the highest rank of Campbell's poetical pro- ductions. A happiness like this was not to be enjoyed with- out a due mixture of life's cares and anxieties; and at this period the income of the poet for the support of such a home and family consisted of the proceeds of his daily literary toil, which was so severe as seriously to injure his health. lie had not, indeed, that slap- dash facility of writing which characterizes most of those who follow literature as a profession; nor could lie, when the hours of study were ended, abandon the subject of his thoughts as lightly as the man of business can leave his shop or counting-house, when he shuts it up for the evening, and repairs to the en- joyments of his fireside. Instead of this, the fastidi- ous taste that abode with him through life, made him slow in the selection of ideas, as well as scrupulous in their expression; and thus, when the price of his labour was to be estimated by bulk, his toil was scarcely half paid. One of his resources at this time, in addition to periodical literature, was an engagement in the Star newspaper, which produced him four guineas a-week. At this time, also, he was willing to endure expatriation for the advantages of a permanent living; so that, when a regency in the university of Wilna had become vacant, he sent his name to the Russian minister as a candidate. But here his sentiments in favour of liberty, and his sympathy for Poland, which he had expressed in the Pleasures of Hope, intervened to damp the ardour i if his application, which might otherwise have been successful. After having established himself in authorship as a profession, he removed from London to Sydenham, where he resided for the next seven- teen years; and it was here, during the first summer after his removal, that, amidst many articles written for the Philosophical Magazine and the Star, upon every uncongenial subject, agriculture not excepted, he published "Lord Ullin's Daughter, "the "Soldier's Dream," the "Turkish Lady," and the "Battle of the Baltic." But for one so delicately organized both in mind and body as Campbell, the daily hard work which he had to encounter was so exhausting that his health gave way; and in his letters at this period, we find him labouring under fits of gloomy despond- ency, alternated by attacks of sickness. To add also to his cares, the sole support of his aged mother, and partially of his sisters, was still devolved upon him, so that he had to maintain two household estab- lishments, the one at Sydenham, and the other at Edinburgh. But just when it seemed inevitable that he must break down under the double pressure, re- lief was at hand. Some unknown but highly influen- tial friend had interposed with royalty itself in his behalf, and the result was a pension of ,£200 per annum conferred by his majesty upon the Hard of Hope. His application of this munificent boon was truly honourable to the poet's heart and memory; for, after reserving only a portion to himself, he allotted the remainder to the support of his mother and sisters. Four years went onward at Sydenham under these improved circumstances, but still the necessity for continued exertion was little abated; for the pension, comfortable as it looked in the abstract, underwent such mutilation, through fees of office and taxation, that it reached him in the shape of ^140, while out of this he paid an annuity of £^0 to his mother. The comfort to be derived from it depended more upon its permanency, than its specific bulk. He therefore continued his toil, amidst alternate fits of lassitude and sickness. His contributions to the Star, which consisted chiefly of translations from foreign journals, occupied him four hours a-day, and the remainder of his time was filled up by a History of the Reign of George III., in three volumes, for which he had contracted with an Edinburgh publisher before he left Scotland; and with his Specimens of the British Poets, a compilation in which the selec- tion of materials for extracts, as well as the composi- tion of biographical notices, cost him abundance of labour and anxiety. All this, however, was for mere daily subsistence, not future fame; and even to keep up the reputation which his first work had pro- cured him, it was necessary to follow it with one of at least equal excellence. To this necessity he was far from being insensible; and therefore, amidst his seasons of intermission, he had devoted himself wit'i all the ardour of a first and undiminished love to the production of Gertrude of Wyoming, which at length was published in London in 1809. It was much that it should have fully sustained the fame that had been acquired by the Pleasures of Hope; but it did more — it evinced equal poetical power, with a more matured judgment and better taste. Jeffrey, that prince of critics, who had seen the work while pass- ing through the press, thus characterized its excel- lencies: — "There is great beauty, and great tender- ness and fancy in the work, and I am sure it will be very popular. The latter part is exquisitely pa- thetic, and the whole touched with those soft and skyish tints of purity and truth, which fall like en- chantment on all minds than can make anything of such matters. Many of your descriptions come nearer the tone of The Castle of Indolence than any succeeding poetry, and the pathos is much more graceful and delicate." After this commendation, which has been fully borne out by the admiration of the public for nearly sixty years, the talented critic introduces the emphatic "BUT," and proceeds to specify the faults which he found in Gertrude of Wyom- ing; and these, also, were such as the world has continued to detect. It consisted too much of finished episodes rather than a continuous poem. The lan- guage was still over-laboured, as if he had "hammered the metal in some places till it had lost all its duc- tility." These were faults, or blemishes, so insepar- able from the mind of Campbell that they were part and parcel of his intellectual existence, and he could only have abandoned them by relinquishing his indi- vidual identity. After this affectionate chastisement, Jeffrey adds, "believe me, my dear C, the world will never know how truly you are a great and original poet, till you venture to cast before it some of the rough pearls of your fancy. "Write one or two things without thinking of publication, or of what will be thought of them, and let me see them, at least, if you will not venture them any farther. I am more mistaken in my prognostics than I ever was in my life, if they are not twice as tall as any of your full-dressed children." In the same volume were published several smaller poems, some of which had previously appeared before the public. Among these were " Lochiel" and "Hohenlinden," the first charac- terized by the Edinburgh Reviews the most spirited and poetical denunciation of woe since the days of Cassandra, and the second as the only representation of a modern battle which possesses either interest or sublimity; and "Ye Mariners of England," and the "Hattle of the Baltic," two songs that have justly ranked their author as the naval Alcscus of Britain. THOMAS CAMPBELL. 313 In a subsequent edition of Gertrude, which appeared in the following year, the volume was enriched by the addition of "O'Connor's Child," the best, perhaps of all his minor poems. Its origin was in the highest degree poetical. A little flower called "love-lies- bleeding," grew in his garden, and the sentiments which it inspired, as he looked at it in his morning walks, gathered and expanded into the most beauti- ful of his ballads. With a new task thus ended, relaxation was neces- sary; and with such an increase to his poetical repu- tation, it was natural that the society of Campbell, mi re-entering the world, should be courted with renewed eagerness. Amidst the many introductions to the most distinguished of the day, there were two that gave him especial pleasure: the one was to Mrs. Siddons, the "Queen of Tragedy," the other, to Caroline, Queen of Great Britain. He was now also to appear in a new literary capacity. This was as a lecturer on poetry at the Royal Institution, a task for which perhaps no poet of this period, so prolific of distinguished bards, was so well qualified. He commenced this course on the 24th of April, 1812, and had the gratification not only of numbering among his audience some of the most illustrious in the literary world, but of being crowned with their approbation. There was indeed only one dissenting voice that made itself be heard at the third lecture. "At the most interesting part," he says, "a storm of thunder, lightning, and rain came on/ The window above me was open, and the rain poured down on my paper as it did on Leander in the Hel- lespont. The lightning had given me an electrical headache, and the thunder, aided by the pattering rain, being my competitor in my endeavours to gain the public attention, it required all my lungs to obtain a hearing." His lectures were so popular in London, that he resolved to repeat them in Edinburgh; but this purpose he could not at present find time to execute. The peace of 1 814, that threw Paris open to the world, enabled Campbell to accomplish the design of visiting that wonderful city, which he had entertained in 1802, but was prevented from executing by the sudden renewal of war. He accordingly crossed the Channel, one of many thousands of visitors, and, amidst all the marvels of Paris, nothing seems to have delighted him so much as the Louvre. The great masterpieces of ancient art seemed to burst upon him like the creations of another world, and made him shed tears of mingled awe and delight. In describing, immediately afterwards, the effect they produced on him, although he tells us he was no judge in statuary, yet we at once see he was more — he was a poet, feeling the inspiration of a kindred spirit manifested in a different department of their common art. Of the Apollo Belvidere he says, * - Oh how that immortal youth in all his splendour, majesty, divinity, Hashed upon us from the end of the gallery! 1 le seems as if he had just leaped from the sun." His visits, which were made to the Louvre in company with Mrs. Siddons, were of too tran- sporting a diameter to lie exclusively repeated, and therefore he gladly had recourse to the theatres, con- certs, and conversaziones, the promenades, and public spectacles, with which the great metropolis of earth's pleasures is pervaded as its living principle. " But still," lie adds, "after the Louvre, I know scarcely anything that is quite transcendent."' After nearly two months that were spent well and happily in Paris, Campbell returned fresh with new sensations. that continued to animate him for years, and resumed his necessary studies at Sydenham. In 1S15 an event also happened to alleviate the necessity of continual toil, and brighten the prospects of his future life. This was a legacy bequeathed to him by his High- land cousin, M 'Arthur Stewart of Ascot, which, though nominally not more than .£500, was increased to nearly /"500c), through his share in the unappro- priated residue bequeathed to the legatees by the testator. The practice of public lecturing had now become so congenial to the mind of Campbell, and his course had been so popular, that lie repeated it in Liverpool, Birmingham, and Edinburgh, to numerous and de- lighted audiences. The merits of these Lectures on Poetry are now familiar to the public, as they were afterwards published, as well as his Specimens of the British Poets, in which the germs of his prelections were first displayed. In 1820 he was enabled to revisit Germany with his family, and after a trip, in which the romantic scenery of the Rhine, and the distinguished literary societies of Germany, were enjoyed with equal pleasure, he returned with fresh zest to England and his literary engagements. The most important of these was the editorship of the New Monthly Magazine, which had been offered him on the most liberal terms. It was a wholly new task, and therefore he was anxious to gather from his more experienced literary friends such advice as might direct him in his course. Some of these admonitions could not have been very gratifying to a mind so sensitive and enthusiastic as his. In a letter written to him by the Rev. Sydney Smith upon the subject, that witty divine thus lectures him: "Remember that a mag. is not supported by papers evincing wit and genius, but by the height of the tide at London Bridge, by the price of oats, and by any sudden elevation or depression in the price of boiling pease. If your mag. succeeds, it will do so as much by the diligence and discretion you will impress upon your nature, as by the talents with which you are born. ' The Magazine, however, acquired a new impulse from his superintendence; and, among his own con- tributions, the poem entitled Tlie Last Man, one of the happiest of his productions, was universally applauded. While thus employed, his Theodoric appeared at the end of 1824. The following year Campbell started the plan of the London University, which he calls " the only important event in his life's little history," and pursued the object with a life-and death earnestness; and, aided by the practical minds of Brougham and Hume, the project, after much conflict, was brought to a successful termination. So earnest, indeed, did he labour in the whole affair, that, not contented with the experience he had already acquired of German colleges, he also travelled to Berlin, to study whatever was excellent in the univer- sity of the Prussian capital, and transplant it into London. And well did he evince his enthusiasm for the improvement of our national education by under- taking such a journey, for. although not more than forty-eight years of age, he was already a weakly old man. His indeed had been a premature decay; the more, perhaps, because lie had enjoyed a pre- cocious intellectual manhood. But education re- warded him in return with one of the h gl •' tinctions, and the most grateful to the min i 1 : Campbell, which she had' to bestow. In his own alma mater, the university of Glasgow, a canvas- had for some time been going on to elec; honoured office of lord-rector: an i nter oi 1S26. the students, by whom the elect i n :- had been so unanimous in their eh 'ice. that hewa- appointed to the office by unan "four nation-." Nor di 1 the him stop here; for. in the : the one after, his appointment wa< by the suffrages of the students. Ilewa- thus tki e times 3 H THOMAS CAMPBELL. successively lord-rector of the university of Glasgow, a repetition unusual among the holders of that high academic office. But, amidst all this distinction, the mind of the poet had much to grieve and try him. Of his two sons, the younger had died in childhood, while the elder, his first-born, who had opened such a fountain of tenderness within his heart, had for years been in a state of lunacy, and was obliged to be kept in confinement. He was thus even worse than childless. In 1826, also, his affectionate wife Matilda, in whom he had possessed so congenial a partner, died, and he found himself alone in the world. The New Monthly Magazine, too, that had prospered so greatly under his care, and been a comfortable source of emolument, passed from under his management by one of those unlucky accidents to which periodical literature is especially exposed. A paper was inserted by mistake in its pages, with- out having been subjected to his editorial examina- tion, and as the article in question was offensive in the highest degree, Campbell in 1S30 abandoned the Magazine, and a salary of ^600 per annum which he derived from it. Soon after this, an event of a public and political nature moved him still more highly than any pecuniary loss could have done. This was the sanguinary capture of Warsaw in 1831, and the national miseries with which Poland was afterwards visited. He had embraced the cause of that most injured and most afflicted of the nations with a poet's enthusiasm; and now he predicted the final result of its wrongs with a poet's prophetic prescience. His words upon the subject are well worth considering — for are they not even at the pre- sent day, after a lapse of more than thirty years, undergoing their fulfilment? "All is over now; and a brave nation is thrust a second time, assassinated, into her grave. Mysterious are the ways of Heaven! We must not question its justice — but I am sick, and fevered with indignation at Germany, for suffer- ing this foolish Emperor of Austria; he fears letting his people taste a little freedom, more than resigning his own freedom to Russia, for he will soon be the very vassal of the inhuman Sclaves, which will be worse for him than if he had a free parliament under his nose — and so also will the King of Prussia be henceforth! All continental Europe, I distinctly anticipate, will be enslaved by Russia. France and Austria will worry each other till they are exhausted; and then down will Russia come on all the south of Europe, with millions and millions, and give law and the knout both to Germany and France." It is gratifying to add that when Campbell's heart was thus occupied, he did not, like too many, withdraw from the throng, that he might brood in solitude over the luxury of sensibility. Instead of this, he- spoke, wrote, declaimed upon the miseries of Poland, pictured them in poetry and in prose, appealed against them in companies of every political shade of belief, exerted himself to make all feel that, in- stead of being a mere party question, it was the common cause of justice, honour, and humanity; and, to evince his sincerity, bestowed liberally, not only of his time and labour, but also of his money, in behalf of the Polish sufferers, at a season when money was the commodity which he least could spare. And his labours were not in vain. He awoke a dee]) sympathy in behalf of Poland where - ever his influence extended, and succeeded in asso- ciating the Polish committee in London, which for years has been so successful in relieving thousands of the expatriated. While employed in these avocations, the literary duties of Campbell still continued to be of a varied character. After his editorship of the New Monthly Magazine had ceased, he was employed in the same capacity in the Metropolitan; and subsequently his attention was occupied with letters and pamphlets in support of the London University, and upon the subject of education in general ; with reviews on works of classical history and fiction; and with a wide and laborious correspondence in French, German, and Latin, which employed him four hours every morning. To these, also, was added his Life of Mrs. Siddons, a work to which he devoted him- self with all his characteristic enthusiasm, and finished in 1833. Thus, even when his name was least before the public, he was toiling generally in behalf of some great benevolent object with an earnestness under which his health frequently sank, and by which his final decay was accelerated. Still, however, he was earnest to produce one poem more — a closing work, by which his poetical reputation should be confirmed, and, if possible, extended — and as health was neces- sary for this purpose, he resolved to make the clas- sical tour of Italy, by which mind and body should be braced alike for the contemplated enterprise. He therefore passed over to Paris in 1834; and although the Apollo Belvidere and Venus de M edicts were no longer there, he found the same cheerful society, and more than the same cordial welcome that had glad- dened his visit of 1814. After having remained several weeks in the French capital, he resumed his journey, but with a very different destination; for, instead of Rome, he now embarked for Algiers. His friends at home were as much astonished at the tidings as if he had set off on a pilgrimage to Tim- buctoo. But he had been poring in the king's library at Paris over books and maps of ancient geography, where the Roman city of Icosium, that had occupied the site of Algiers, met his eye; and the late changes by which this Mauritanian city of the waters had been converted into the capital of a French province, fired his imagination with pictures of the future civili- zation of Africa. This was enough to decide him on embarking at Toulon, on the nth September, 1834, and seven days after he was traversing the crooked streets of Algiers, beneath the blaze of an African sun. But he was still among French society, to whom his literary reputation was a welcome pass- port; he even found one of the French officers there employed in a translation of his poems with a view to publication. New health, nay, a new life itself, was the reward of this journey, and he describes the scenery and his own feelings in the following buoyant style: "Oh, my old crony! it would do your heart good to see your friend prancing gloriously on an Arabian barb over the hills of the white city (for Algiers, with all its forts, battlements, mosques, and minarets, is as dazzling white as snow), and enjoying the splendid scenery. I have no words to convey the impression it has made on me. I felt, on my ride, as if I had dropped into a new planet! Some parts of the hills, it is true, are bare; but wherever there is verdure, it has a bold, gigantic richness, a brilliancy and odour, that mock even the produc- tions of our hot-houses. Never shall I forget my first ride! It was early morning: the blue Mediter- ranean spread a hundred miles beneath— a line ol flamingoes shot over the wave — the white city blazed in the rising sun — the Arabs, with their dromedaries loaded with fruits for the market, were coming down the steeps. Around, in countless numbers, were the white, square, castle-looking country-houses of the Moor-, inclosed in gardens; the romantic tombs of the Marabouts, held sacred, and surrounded with trees and (lowers, that are watered with a perpetual spring from marble fountains, where you see the palm towering with its feathery tufts as high a^ a THOMAS CAMPBELL ANDREW CAN'T. 3*5 minaret. . . . Then the ravines that run flown to the sea! I alighted to explore one of them, and found a burn that might have gurgled in a Scottish glen. A thousand sweet novelties of wild (lowers grew above its borders; and a dear little bird sang among its trees. The view terminated in the dis- charge of the stream among the rocks and foam of the sea, — ' And where this valley winded out below. The murmuring main was heard — and scarcely heard to flow.' In short, my dear John, I feel as if my soul had grown an inch taller since I came here. I have a thousand, and a thousand curious things to tell you; but I shall keep them all bottled up to tell you in Fludyer Street — unless the cholera comes over me. If it should, I have at least had some happy days; and the little void that I leave in the world will be soon filled up." These "happy days" were extended over the two following months, during which the poet made short trips among the native tribes, and explored whatever was curious in the past and present history of these children of the desert, and the localities they oc- cupied. And fortunately for him, the dreaded cholera did not come, so that he revelled uninter- rupted amidst the healthy and spirit-stirring enjoy- ments of the new scenes into which he had entered. The consequence was, that on his return to London, his friends congratulated him on being several years younger than when he had set out on his travels. This healthy effect of a glowing Moorish atmosphere was afterwards improved and made permanent by a trip to Ids native north, that followed soon after — an alternation that resembled the sudden plunge from a hot bath into a cold. But where was the poem which was to be produced on his return? Let no poet say to himself, "Go to, I will sit down on such and such a day, and write an epic." History and antiquity, past events and living realities, the rich landscapes around Algiers and Oran, and their stirring throng of Moors and Frenchmen, had so wholly occupied his thoughts, that laying aside his poetical purposes to an indefinite period, he devoted himself to the preparation of Letters from Algiers, which were afterwards published in two volumes. His financial affairs, too, notwithstanding his habi- tual disregard of money, and thoughtless facility in parting with it, were in a more prosperous condition than they had been at any former period. Such was the tranquil course of his life from 1835 to 1841, when a return of his former ailments so stirred his impatience, that without any previous notice or pre- paration, he suddenly started for Weisbaden, expect- ing to find a miraculous recovery among its Brunnen. Such, indeed, was his hurry, that he forgot to pro- vide himself with money, so that on arriving at the baths, he was obliged to write to a friend in London, commissioning him to enter his house in Victoria Square, take out all the money he found there, and after remitting him a portion, to lodge the rest at his banker's. It was truly marvellous that such a man should have money to leave behind him! Fortified with this authority, his friend, accompanied by a lawyer, went to Campbell's house, opened the press- door in his bedroom, which did not seem to be even locked, and commenced his exploration. But though every shelf, drawer, cranny, every shirt-fold and coat-pocket of this poetical chaos was searched and rummaged, there was nowhere a token of money. The lawyer was grievously scandalized, and talked professionally of careless custody and burglar,-. At length, when closing the press-door in de-pair, the process was interrupted by the point of a red em- broidered slipper, stuffed, as it appeared, with paper matches for lighting candles, and on unrolling these, they found tint the apparently worthless papers con- sisted of bank-notes to the amount of more than f,yxs\ By an inconsistency not unusual in human nature, Campbell at this very period was grumbling at the rate of exchange in Weisbaden, where not more than 19; (id. was given for an Kngli»h sovereign. His stay was only for six weeks, and during this period he composed the ballad of the Child and I find. He published also 'J'he Pilgrim of Glencoe, with other poems, in which the Child and I find, the Song of the Colonists, and Moonlight, appeared for the fir^t time. Unfortunately, however, the Pilgrim, notwithstand- ing its excellencies, was felt to be inferior to his fir-t productions, and was rated accordingly. But he was no longer the same youthful spirit that had produced the Pleasures of Hope and Certritde of Wyoming. Flashes, indeed, of his former self would still break out from his poetry and conversation, but they were the fitful irradiations of a once steady but now de- parting sunshine. He had now reached the age of sixty-six, and perhaps he had drawn too fervently and fast upon the resources of a naturally delicate constitution, to be otherwise than a feeble broken- down man at such a period of life. To add also to his distresses, the sale of his poems, which for some years had produced him about ,£500 per annum, could not now realize above .£60 or £~o. From the double motive of health and economy, he resolved to make his future residence in Boulogne, to which he re- paired in July, 1843. His friends — and few had more attached friends than Campbell — felt as if this was a final departure, to be followed by no happy return. These mournful forebodings were too truly verified. His constitution was already so old, and so com- pletely exhausted, that no change of climate could enable it to rally; and the winter of Boulogne, instead of alleviating his ailments, only seemed to aggravate them beyond the power of removal. Spring came. and summer succeeded; but their bright sunshine only half lighted the curtained sick-room, and finally flickered upon the death-bed of him who had so often watched its changes, and delighted in its beaut}'. But in his last hours he was not alone, for besides his affectionate niece, who attended him with a daughter's solicitude, his bedside was solaced by the presence of Dr. Beattie, his faithful friend, physician, and biographer, who had crossed from London to Boulogne, to soothe the departing hours of Ids affec- tionate patient. Amidst such gentle guardianship, by which every aid and alleviation was administered. Thomas Campbell died without a struggle, and ap- parently without pain, solaced to the last moment by the consoling portions of Scripture that were rea 1 to him, in which he expressed his earnest faith and hope; and by the prayers, in which he joined in look and attitude when the power of speech had de] His death occurred on the 15th of June, 1S44. in the sixty-seventh year of his age. The b idy was p. 1 from Boulogne to London, and interred in W -•- minster Abbey; a handful of earth from the ; 1 Kosciusko, the l'oli-h hero, that had been tre; for the purpose, was thrown into the grave poet who had written so eloquently ai much in behalf of Poland ; and his a-he- r. w 1 in the neighb mrhood of I . at.- 1 Addison, Goldsmith, and Sheridan. CANT. Andrew, a Prcsl yi prcacl r of great vigour ami second reformation. In 163S he was minister of Pitsligo in Aberdeenshire. Unlike the generality ANDREW CANT. of the clergy in that district of Scotland, he entered heartily into the national covenant for resisting the episcopalian encroachments of Charles I., and took an active part in the struggles of the time for civil and religious liberty. He was associated with the celebrated Alexander Henderson, David Dickson, the Earls of Montrose and Kinghorn, and Eord Cupar, in the commission appointed in July, 163S, by the tables or deputies of the different classes of Covenanters, noblemen, gentlemen, burgesses, and ministers, to proceed to the north and endeavour to engage the inhabitants of the town and county of Aberdeen in the work of reformation. The doctors of divinity in the town had steadily resisted the progress of reforming principles, and were greatly incensed when they heard of this commision, They fulminated against it from the pulpit; and the town council, under their influence and example, enacted, by a plurality of votes, that none of the citizens should subscribe the covenant. The deputies arrived on the 20th of the month, and were hospitably re- ceived by the magistrates; but they declined their proffers of friendship, till they should first show their favour to the object of their visit. Montrose, "in a bold and smart speech," remonstrated with them on the danger of Popish and Prelatical innovations; but the provost excused himself and his coadjutors by pleading that they were Protestants and not Papists, and intimating their desire not to thwart the inclina- tion of the king. Immediately after their interview with the magistrates, the deputies received from the doctors of the two universities a paper containing four- teen ensnaring propositions respecting the covenant, promising compliance should the commissioners re- turn a satisfactory answer. These propositions had been carefully conned over previously, and even printed and transmitted to the court in England before the arrival of the deputies. They were speedily an- swered by the latter, who sent their replies to the doctors in the evening of the next day. Meanwhile the nobles applied to the magistrates for the use of the pulpits on the Sabbath following, for the ministerial commissioners, but this being refused, the three min- isters preached in the open air, to great multitudes, giving pointed and popular answers to the questions of the doctors, and urging the subscription of the cove- nant with such effect that 500 signatures were adhib- ited to it upon the spot, some of the adherents being persons of quality. On Monday the deputies went out into the country districts, and although the Marquis of Huntly and the Aberdeen doctors had been at pains to pre-occupy the minds of the people, yet the covenant was signed by about forty-four ministers and many gentlemen. Additional subscrip- tions awaited the deputies on their return to Aber- deen, where they preached again as on the former Sabbath; but finding that they could produce no effect upon the doctors of divinity whose principles led them to render implicit obedience to the court, they desisted from the attempt and returned to Kdinburgh. In the subsequent November, Mr. (.'ant sat in the celebrated Glasgow Assembly (of 1638), and took part in the abolition of Episcopacy witli the great and good men whom the crisis ol affairs had brought together on that memorable occasion. In the course of the procedure, the Assembly was occupied with a presentation to Mr. Cant to the pastoral charge of Newbattle: — "My Lord Lowthian presented anesup- plication to the Assemblie, anent 'he transportation of Mr. Androw Cant from Pitsligo to Newbotle in the Presbitrie of Dalkeith. Moderatour (Henderson) said It would scenic reasonable that your Lordship should get a favourable answer, considering your diligence and zealc in this cause above many uthers, and I know this not to be a new motion, but to be concludit by the patron, presbitrie, and paroche. The commissioner of Edinr. alleadged that they had made an election of him twenty-four yeares since. Then the mater was put to voiting — Whither Mr. Audio Cant should be transported from Pitsligo to Edinburgh? And the most pairt of the Assembly voited to his transplantation to Newbotle; and so the Moderatour declaired him to be minister at Newbotle." From his proximity to Edinburgh in his new charge, Mr. Cant was enabled to devote much of his attention to public affairs, with which his name is closely connected at this period. In 1640, he, and Alexander Henderson, Robert Blair, John Living- ston, Robert Baillie, and George Gillespie, the most eminent ministers of the day, were appointed chap- lains to the army of the Covenanters, which they accompanied in the campaign of that year. When the Scots gained possession of Newcastle, August 30, Henderson and Cant were the ministers nomi- nated to preach in the town churches. In the same year the General Assembly agreed to translate Mr. Cant from Newbattle to Aberdeen. In 1641 we again find him at Edinburgh, where public duty no doubt often called him. On the 21st of August he preached before Charles I., on the occasion of his majesty's second visit for the purpose of conciliating his Scottish subjects. When the union of the church and nation, cemented by the covenant, was dislo- cated by the unhappy deed known as the Engage- ment, in 1648, Cant, as might have been expected from his zeal and fidelity, stood consistently by the covenanting as now distinguished from the political party. When General David Leslie was at Aber- deen in November, 1650, on an expedition against some northern insurgents, he was visited by Messrs. Andrew Cant, elder and younger, ministers of Aber- deen, who, amongst many other discourses, told the lord general, "that wee could not in conscience asist the king to recover his crowne of England, but he thonghte one kingdome might serve him werey weill, and one crowne was enenche for any one man ; one kingdome being sufficient for one to reuell and governe" (Jya/p'onr's Annals, iv. 1 6 1 ). In the year 1660, a complaint was presented to the magistrates, charging Mr. Cant with having published Rutherford's celebrated book, entitled Lex A'ex, without authority, and for denouncing ana- themas ami imprecations against many of his congre- gation, in the course of performing his religious duties. A variety of proceedings took place on this question before the magistrates, but no judgment was given; Mr. Cant, however, finding his situation rather unpleasant, withdrew himself from his pastoral charge, removed from the town with his wife and family, and died about the year 1644. A clergyman, named Mr. Andrew Cant, supposed to have been son to the above, was a minister of Edinburgh during the reign of Charles II., and con- sequently must have been an adherent of Episcopacy. He was also principal of the university between the years 1675 and 1685. The same person, or perhaps his son, was deprived of his charge in Edinburgh, at the revolution, and, on the 17th of October, 1722, was consecrated as one of the bishops of the disestab- lished Episcopal church in Scotland. This individual died in 1728. How far it may be true, as mentioned in the Spectator, that the modern word Cant, which in the beginning of the last century was applied to signify religious unction, but is now extended to a much wider interpretation, was derived from the worthy minister of Aberdeen, we cannot pretend to deter- LORD CARDROSS — mine. The more probable derivation is from the Latin cantits, singing or chanting. CARDROSS, Lord. .SarERSKiNE. CARGILL, DONALD, an eminent preacher of the more uncompromising order of Presbyterians in the reign of Charles II., was the son of respectable parents in the parish of Rattray, in Perthshire, where he was born about the year 1610. 1 We find the following account of the state of his mind in early life amongst the memoranda of Mr. Wodrow, who appears to have written down every tradition of the lathers of the church which came to his ears.'' ".Mr. Donald Cargill," says the pious historian, "for some twenty or thirty years before his death, was never under doubts as to his interest, and the reason was made known to him inane extraordinary way, and the way was this, as Mr. C. told my father. When he was in his youth he was naturally hasty and fury, and he fell under deep soul exercise, and that in a very high degree, and lor a long time after all means used, public and private; and the trouble still increasing, he at length came to a posi- tive resolution to make away with himself, and accordingly went out more than once to drown him- self in a water, but he was still scarred by people coming by, or somewhat or other. At length, alter several essays, lie takes on a resolution to take a time or place where nothing should stop, and goes out early one morning by break of day to a coal- pit; and when he comes to it, and none at all about, he comes to the brink of it to throw himself in, and just as he was going to jump in he heard ane audible voice from heaven, 'Son, be of cheer, thy sins be forgiven thee,' and that stopped him, and he said to , that he never got leave to doubt of his interest. Put, blessed be God, we have a more sine word of prophecy to lean to, though 1 believe where such extraordinary revelations are, there is ane in- ward testimony of the .Spirit cleaving marks of grace to the soul too.' We learn from other sources that Mr. Cargill, hav- ing studied at Aberdeen, and, being persuaded by his father to enter the church, became minister of the Barony parish in Glasgow, some time after the division among the clergy, in 1650. He continued to exercise the duties of this situation in a very pious and exemplary manner, until the restoration oi the Episcopal church, when his refusing to accept colla- tion from the archbishop, or celebrate the king's birth-day, drew upon him the attention of the autho- rities, and he was banished, by act of council, to the country beyond the Tay. To this edict he appears to have paid little attention; yet he did not excite the jealousy of the government till 166S, when he was called before the council, and commanded per- emptorily to observe their former act. In Septem- ber, 1669, upon his petition to the council, he was permitted to c >me to Edinburgh upon some legal business, but not to reside in the city, or to approach Glasgow. For some years after this period he led the life of a field-preacher, subject to the constant vigilance of the emissaries of the government, from whom he made many remarkable escapes So tar from accepting tli : indulgence offered to the Presby- terian clergy, he was one of that small body who thought it their duty to denounce openly ... did so. In 1070 he appeared amongst the unfor- tunate band whit h sto id forward at Bothwell liri Ige in vain resistance t > an overpowering tyranny. ( in this occasion he was wounded, but had the good fortune to make his escape. Su! DONALD CARGILL. 317 period, he took refuge for a short time in Holland. In the months of May ami June, 1680, he was again under hitling in Scotland, and seems to have been concerned in drawing up some very strong papers against the government. He, and a distinguished lay member of the same sect, named Henry Hall, ol Haughhead, lurked for some time about the shores of the Firth of Forth above Queensferry, till at length the Episcopal minister of Carriden gave notice of them to the governor of Blackness, who, June 3d, set out in search of them. This officer having traced them to a public-house in Queensferry, went in, and pretending a great deal of respect for Mr. Cargill, begged to drink a glass of wine with him. He had, in the meantime, sent off his servant for a party of soldiers. The two fugitives had no'suspicion of this man's purpose, till, not choosing to wait any longer for the arrival of his assistants, he attempted to take them prisoners. Hall made a stout r<_- was mortally wounded with the dog-head of a cara- bine by one George, a waiter. Cargill, escaping in the struggle, though not without wounds, was re- ceived and concealed by a neighbouring farmer. He even fled to the south, ami next Sunday, :. t- withstanding his wounds, he preached at Cairn-hill, near Loudoun. A paper of a very violent nature was found on the person of the deceased .Mr. Hall, and is generally understood to have proceeded from the pen of Mr. Cargill. It is known in history by the title of the Chf.ensferry Covenant, from the place where it was found. Mr. Cargill also appears to have been concerned, with his friend Richard Cameron, in publishing the equally violent declara- tion at Sanquhar, on the 22<1 of June. In the fol- lowing September, this zealous divine proceeded to a still more violent measure against the existing powers. Having collected a large congregation in the Torwood, between Falkirk and Stirling, lie preached from I Corinth, v. 13, ami then, with- out having previously consulted a single brother in the ministry, or any other individual of his part}-, he gave out the usual form of excommunication against the king, the Duke of York, the 1 Hikes of Monmouth, Lauderdale, and Rothes, Sir George Mackenzie, and Sir Thomas Dalzell of Pinns. IPs general reasons were their exertions against the - macy of the pure church of Scotland. The ] rivy- council felt that this assumption of ecclesiastical authority was not only calculated to bring contempt upon the eminent persons named, but tended to mark them out as proper objects for the vengeance of the ignorant multitude; and they accordingly took very severe measures against the offender. He was ommuned, and a reward of 5000 merks were offered for his apprehension. For several moi continued to exercise his functions as a minister when he could find a convenient opportunity; ami many stories are told of hair-breadth escapes those occasions from the ma on occasi others sent in search of him. At lengll 16S1. he was seized at Covington in La by a person named Irving of Pons him to Lanark on horseback, with the animal's bed v. Soon after lie «.:■ c ■'■ 26th t death Gla-^ow. and thence f fuly. he was for high ' ! and beheaded, h j their pietv to the I y Wo curred with him 11 1 if a very i ; anil hail a v ■•:■■. extr r : , war ': s he 1 i ve : a : . . ! v. . trie ers, and in May. sUfi 3iS ALEXANDER CARLYLE JOHN DONALD CARRICK. was a zealous and useful minister, and of an easy sweet natural temper. And I am of opinion, the singular steps he took towards the end of his course were as much to be attributed unto his regard to the sentiments of others, for whom he had a value, as to his own inclinations." CARLYLE, Alexander, an eminent divine, was born about the year 1721. His father was the minister of Prestonpans, and he received his educa- tion at the universities of Glasgow, Edinburgh, and Leyden. While he attended these schools of learn- ing, the extreme elegance of his person, his manners, and his taste, introduced him to an order of society far above any in which such students as he generally mingle, and rendered him the favourite of men of science and literature. At the breaking out of the insurrection of 1745, he was an ardent youth of four and twenty, and thought proper to accept a commis- sion in a troop of volunteers, which was raised at Edinburgh for the purpose of defending the city. This corps having been dissolved at the approach of the Highland army, he retired to his father's house at Prestonpans, where the tide of war, however, soon followed him. Sir John Cope having pitched his camp in the immediate neighbourhood of Preston- pans, the Highlanders attacked him early on the morning of the 21st of September, and soon gained a decided victory. Carlyle was awoke by an account that the armies were engaged, and hurried to the top of the village steeple in order to have a view of the action. He was just in time to see the regular soldiers fleeing in all directions to escape the broad- swords of the enemy. This incident gave him some uneasiness on his own account, for there was reason to apprehend that the victors would not be over kind to one who had lately appeared in arms against them. He therefore retired in the best way he could to the manse of Bolton, some miles off, where he lived un- molested for a few days, after which he returned to the bosom of his own family. Having gone through the usual exercises prescribed by the Church of Scot- land, Mr. Carlyle was presented, in 1747, to the living of Inveresk, which was perhaps the best situa- tion he could have obtained in the church, as the distance from Edinburgh was such as to make inter- course with metropolitan society very easy, while, at the same time, he enjoyed all the benefits of retire- ment and country leisure. From this period till the end of the century, the name of Dr. Carlyle enters largely into the literary history of Scotland; he was the intimate associate of Hume, Home, Smith, lilair, and all the other illustrious men who flourished at this period. Unfortunately, though believed to possess talents fitting him to shine in the very highest walks of literature and intellectual science, he never could be prevailed upon to hazard himself in competition with his distinguished friends, but was content to lend to them the benefit of his assist- ance and critical advice in fitting their productions for the eye of the world. In his clerical character, Mr. Carlyle was a zealous moderate; and when he had acquired some weight in the ecclesiastical courts, was the bold advocate of some of the strongest mea- sure^ taken by the Oeneral Assembly for maintaining the ascendency of his party. In 1757 he himself fell under censure as an accomplice — if we may use such an expression — of Mr. Home, in bringing forward the tragedy of Douglas. At the first private rehearsal of this play, Dr. Carlyle enacted the part of Old Nerval; and he was one of those clergymen who re- solutely involved themselves in the evil fame of the author by attending the first representation. During tiie run of the play, while the genera! public, on the one hand, was lost in admiration of its merits, and the church, on the other, was preparing its sharpest thunders of condemnation, Dr. Carlyle published a burlesque pamphlet, entitled Reasons why tiie Tragedy of Douglas should be Burned by the Hands of the Common Hangman; and afterwards he wrote another calculated for the lower ranks, and which was hawked about the streets, under the title, "History of the Bloody Tragedy of Douglas, as it is now performed at the theatre in the Canongate." Mr. Mackenzie informs us, in his Life of Home, that the latter pas- quinade had the effect of adding two more nights to the already unprecedented run of the play. For this conduct Dr. Carlyle was visited by his presbytery with a censure and admonition. A person of right feeling in the present day is only apt to be astonished that the punishment was not more severe; for, as- suredly, it would be difficult to conceive any conduct so apt to be injurious to the usefulness of a clergyman as his thus mixing himself up with the impurities and buffooneries of the stage. The era of 1757 was perhaps somewhat different from the present. The serious party in the church were inconsiderately zealous in their peculiar mode of procedure, whiLe the moderate party, on the principle of antagonism, erred as much on the side of what they called liberal- ity. Hence, although the church would not now, perhaps, go to such a length in condemning the tragedy of Douglas, its author and his abettors, neither would the provocation be now given. No clergyman could now be found to act like Home and Carlyle; and therefore the church could not be called upon to act in so ungracious a maimer as it did to- wards those gentlemen. Dr. Carlyle was a fond lover of his country, of his profession, and, it might be said, of all mankind. He was instrumental in procuring an exemption for his brethren from the severe pressure of the house and window tax, for which purpose he visited London, and was introduced at court, where the elegance and dignity of his ap- pearance are said to have excited both admiration and surprise. It was generally remarked that his noble countenance bore a striking resemblance to the Jupiter Tonans in the Capitol. Smollett men- tions in his Humphrey Clinker, a work in which fact and fancy are curiously blended, that he owed to Dr. Carlyle his introduction to the literary circles of Edinburgh. After mentioning a list of celebrated names, he says, "These acquaintances I owe to the friendship of Dr. Carlyle, who wants nothing but inclination to figure with the rest upon paper." It may be further mentioned, that the world owes the preservation of Collins' fine ode on the superstitions of the Highlands, to Dr. Carlyle. The author, on his death-bed, had mentioned it to Dr. Johnson as the best of his poems; but it was not in his posses- sion, and no search had been able to discover a copy. At last Dr. Carlyle found it accidentally among his papers, and presented it to the Royal Society of Edinburgh, in the first volume of whose Transactions it was published. Dr. Carlyle died August 25, 1805, in the eighty- fourth year of his age, and the fifty-eighth of his ministry. By his wife, who was a woman of superior- understanding and accomplishments, he had had several children, all of whom died many years before himself. Dr. Carlyle published nothing but a few sermons and jeux d'esfrit, and the statistical account of the parish of Inveresk in Sir John Sinclair's large compilation; but he left behind him a very valuable memoir of his own life and limes, which has only been lately published. CARRICK. John Donald. This excellent writer JOHN DONALD CARRICK. 3'9 in the comic and more humble departments of litera- ture, was born at Glasgow in April, 1787. His parents being in limited circumstances, were unable to afford him more than the elements of an ordinary education; the rest he accomplished in after-years by his own application and industry. Apparently he was brought up to no particular trade or profession, for at one time we find him employed in the office of an archi- tect in Glasgow, and at another as a clerk in a counting-house. As was natural for a bold in- dependent spirit under such irregular training, he resolved to find or make a way for himself, and with this view he in 1807 set off to London. It was a daring adventure for a youth in his twentieth year, and with only a few shillings in his pocket; the distance was four hundred miles, and he resolved to travel the whole way on foot. A sound constitution, light heart, and active limbs enabled him to set at nought those difficulties by which most people would have been deterred; and after travelling all day upon scanty fare, he was wont at night to lodge in some cheap roadside alehouse, or bivouac on the leeward side of a hedge, or behind the sheaves of a corn-field. In this way he saw sights and learned lessons both of men and things which books could not have taught, and which he treasured in his memory for future description. On reaching Liverpool half- starved and wearied, and seeing a party of soldiers beating up for recruits, he deliberated whether he should end his journey at once by enlisting as a soldier, or trudge onward to the metropolis. In this dilemma, where both sides were equally balanced, he had recourse to divination, and gravely throwing his cudgel into the air, he resolved to fix his choice by the direction in which it fell. The fallen staff pointed Londonward, and to London accordingly he resolved to go. After another journey as long and toilsome as the first, he arrived at the capital; and such had been his frugality and self-denial that he had still half-a-crown in his pocket. On reaching London, John Carrick's first task was to find employment; but although he offered his services to several shopkeepers, his appearance was so raw and his tongue so broadly Scotch, that the Cockney citizens were unwilling to give him a place behind their counters. While employed however in this cheerless quest, he stumbled upon a countryman of his own, whose ears were charmed by the melody of his Doric, and who forthwith took him into his service. After circulating from one temporary en- gagement to another, Carrick at last obtained, in 1809, a situation in a house that dealt extensively in Staffordshire pottery, and here he remained until 181 1, when he returned to Glasgow, and opened a large establishment in Hutcheson Street for the sale of stoneware, china, &c, in which he continued nearly fourteen years, until unforeseen reverses reduced him to bankruptcy. 1 1 is losses were also aggravated by a tedious and expensive litigation, from which, although his character came out unsullied, it was with pockets utterly emptied. Obliged to abandon business on his own account, he became a travelling agent chiefly in the West Highlands for two or three Glasgow houses; but this source of subsistence having also dried up, he resolved to leave business altogether, and devote himself wholly to the profes- sion iA literature. Nor was he so disqualified for this as his early education would seem to intimate. He had seen much of society both Scotch anil English, both Lowland and Highland, chiefly of the humble and comic character, to which his powers of writing were best adapted; and by reading and study, since the time of his first arrival in London, he had acquired a ready and v:g>r ms style of writing. He had also felt his way in this new and perilous path by writing a Life of Sir William Wallace in two volumes, published in Constable's Miscellany, which was favourably received by the public, and producing certain songs and humorous sketches on which his friends had set some value. His first en- gagement, when this resolution was adopted, was as sub-editor of the Scots Times, a journal of liberal principles then published in Glasgow, and its amusing paragraphs of local fun and satire which he contri- buted, gave celebrity and circulation to the paper. Afterwards he was employed as a regular contributor to The Day, a literary newspaper published daily in Glasgow, and commenced in 1832, but which expired after a short existence of six month-,. During the same year appeared Whistle-Binkie, a collection of Scottish songs chiefly humorous, and to this publica- tion Carrick contributed two of the most comic of its articles, "The Scottish Tea Party" and "Mister Peter Paterson." In the following year he was offered the management of the Perth Advertiser, which he ac- cepted. Great were the hopes of Carrick's friends that this situation would be profitable and honourable both to the editor and newspaper. His literary talents were considerably above the common average, his knowledge of the world and everyday life was extensive and minute; and from past experience he was well acquainted with the mechanical details that enter into the management of a journal. What editor, therefore, could be better qualified to give- weight and respectability to a provincial newspaper, and insure for it success? But these natural calcu- lations were grievously disappointed by the reality. Carrick might be sole editor of the Perth Advertiser; but he had viceroys over him — a committee of man- agement, to wit, composed of men far inferior to himself in talent and judgment, but who revised, mutilated, and altered his articles according to their own good pleasure. This crowning indignity, which authorship can least endure, was too much lor the proud and independent spirit of Carrick: and he threw up his editorship after he had held it eleven months. During this kind of annoyance which decided him to leave Perth, certain parties in the burgh of Kil- marnock were on the look-out for an editor to a newspaper which they were about to start in the liberal interest; and Carrick's friends in Glasgow, who were aware of the state of matters in Perth, had powerfully recommended him for this new appoint- ment. Their application was successful, and Carrick, leaving Perth in February. 1S34, assumed Ids edi- torial duties in Kilmarnock. In a short time the new-born Kilmarnock Journal attested the exci of his management; its articles were vigorous and popular, and the sale of the paper was increasing; but unfortunately it was, like its brother of Perth. under a committee of management composed of the chief proprietors, and as there was a variety ol tastes, opinions, and rivalries among them, whde member wished his own to predominate, th situa- tion of the editor with such a divided conclave wn> tar from being easy or enviable. He !.. e-cape by fleeing from Perth to Kiln contrary, he had only landed U] on the same ■ a more aggravated f inn. 1 le wa- a!- > lc.-s al >le now to bear up against it. as before lie left Perth, lie had been afflicted with neuralgic attack- in s m< nerves and muscles of hi- m< I. which in Kilmarnock settled into confirmed tic-douloureux. Under the worry by w hi h this ; -e was aggravated, he p'etil 1 *hort leave of absence, whde his friend Mr. Weir of the (/.'.', : Arjt. (already a risim terarv won , had WILLIAM CARSTAIRS. gaged to supply the leading articles for the Kil- marnock Journal; but, contrary to every principle of justice and humanity, his reasonable request was refused by the managing committee. As no other alternative remained to him, Carrick resigned his editorship, and returned to Glasgow in January, 1S35. During his stay in Kilmarnock, however, and notwithstanding the annoyances of his position and decline of health, his intellect had been as active as ever: and besides the management of his newspaper, he editorially superintended the first series of The Laird of Logan, an admirable collection of Scotch jokes and stories, of which a considerable number of the best pieces were from his own pen. The work was published in Glasgow in June, 1835, where the sensation it produced, and the popularity it estab- lished, bore witness to the happiness of the plan, and the good taste with which it was executed. After the volume had issued from the press, Carrick went to Rothesay in quest of that health which he could no longer find; in that gentle climate he even became worse; and, with the feeling which so often prompts the dying man to return to his birthplace, as if it were a privilege to die there, he came back to Glasgow, and calmly awaited the inevitable change. Even yet, however, he could make a momentary rally for his beloved occupation, and write a few articles for the Scottish Monthly Magazine, a Glasgow peri- odical of brief duration; but it was the last flash of the expiring lamp, and he died on the 17th of August, 1S37. Of the character of John Donald Carrick, an estimate may be formed from the events of his varied life. Necessity made him an author, and a growing liking confirmed his choice; while to fit himself for such a ta^k, the world was his only training school and college. Both as a poet and prose writer, he displayed considerable ability, and was always equal to the literary situation he occupied; while his choice inclined to the comic and mirthful, rather than to the grave and sentimental, aspect of nature. The same buoyant spirit and love of the ludicrous which directed his pen, also animated his conversation; and while society sought his company, the wise and the good were charmed with his merriment, which they found contagious, because it was just and observant, but neither satirical nor offensive. CARSTAIRS, William, an eminent political and ecclesiastical character, was born at the village of Cathcart, in the neighbourhood of Glasgow, on the nth of February, 1649. His father was Mr. John Carstairs, descended of a very ancient family in Fife, and minister in the Iligh-church of Glasgow, where he had for his colleague the Rev. James Dur- ham, well known for his Commentary on the Revela- tion and other learned and pious works. His mother's name was Jane Muir, of the family of Glan- derston, in the county of Renfrew. Giving early indications of an uncommon genius, young Carstairs was by his father placed under the care of a Mr. Sinclair, an indulged Presbyterian minister, who at that time kept a school of great celebrity at Ormiston, a village in Fast Lothian. Under Mr. Sinclair, in whose school, as in all schools of that kind at the time, and even in the family, no language but Latin was used, Carstairs acquired a perfect knowledge of that language, with great fluency of expressing him- self in it, and a strong ta^te for classical learning in general. He had also the good fortune to form, among the sons of the nobility who attended this celebrated seminary, several friendships, which were of the utmost consequence to him in after-life. Having completed his course at the school, Mr. Carstairs entered the college of Edinburgh in his nineteenth year, where he studied for four years under Mr. (afterwards Sir) William Paterson, who in later life became clerk to the privy-council of Scotland. Under this gentleman he made great proficiency in the several branches of the school philosophy then in vogue; but the distracted state of the country deter- mined his father to send him to study divinity in Holland, where many of his brethren, the persecuted ministers of the Church of Scotland, had already found an asylum. He was accordingly entered in the uni- versity of Utrecht, where he studied Hebrew under Leusden, and divinity under Herman Witsius, at that time two of the most celebrated professors in Europe. He had also an opportunity, which he carefully improved, of attending the lectures of the celebrated Grx'vius, who was at this time in the vigour of his faculties and the zenith of his reputation. The study of theology, however, was what he made his main business, which having completed, he was licensed as a preacher of the gospel, but where or by whom seems not to have been known by any of his biographers. In all probability it was by some of the classes of Holland. Being strongly attached to the Presbyterian system, in which he had been edu- cated, and for adherence to which his father was a sufferer at home, and himself, in a limited sense, a wanderer in a strange land (for it was to avoid the taking of unnecessary or unlawful oaths imposed by the bishops that he had been sent by his father to study at Utrecht), he naturally took a deep interest in the affairs of his native country, and was early en- gaged in deliberating upon the means of her deliver- ance. On sending him to Holland by the way of London, his father had introduced him by letter to an eminent physician of that city, who kindly fur- nished him with a letter to the physician of the Prince of Orange. This latter gentleman, upon the strength of his friend's recommendation, introduced Carstairs to the Pensionary Fagel, who, finding him so much a master of everything relative to the state of parties and interests in Great Britain, introduced him to a private interview with his master the prince, who was at once struck with his easy and polite ad- dress, and with the extent of his political knowledge. This favourable opinionwas heightened by subsequent interviews, and in a short time nothing <»i consequence was transacted at his court relative to Great Britain till Carstairs had been previously consulted. Holland had, from the first attempts of the British court after the restoration to suppress the Presbyterians, been the general resort of such of the Scottish clergy as found it impossible to retain their stations, and they were soon followed by numbers of their unhappy countrymen who had vainly perilled their lives on the fatal fields of Pentland and Bothwell, with the principal of whom Carstairs could not, in the circum- stances in which he was placed, fail to become ac- quainted. Being well connected, and in no way ob- noxious to the government, he seems to have been selected both by his expatriated countrymen and by the agents of the Prince of Orange, to visit Scotland on a mission of observation in the year 16S2. Nothing could be more hopeless than tin; condition of Scotland at this time. Her ministers were every- where silenced: Cargill and Cameron, the only two that remained of the intrepid band that had so long kept up the preached gospel in the fields, had both fallen, the one on the scaffold by an iniquitous sen- tence, the other on the open heath by the hand of violence. Her nobles were either the slaves ol arbi- trary royalty, or they had already expatriated them- selves, or were just about to do so; while the body of her people, Issachar-likc, were crouching beneath WILLIAM CARSTAIRS. 321 their burdens in the most hopeless dejection. Finding no encouragement in Scotland, where the few indi- viduals that felt any of the true aspirations of liberty were seriously engaged in a project of emigration to Carolina in North America, Mr. Carstairs determined to return to Holland. He however, probably not without instructions, took London in his way, where he arrived in the month of November, 1682, at the very time when Shaftesbury, Monmouth, Sydney, Essex, Russell, Hampden, and Howard were engaged in what has been called Shaftesbury's Plot, or more generally, from a forged story of a design to murder the king and the Duke of York at a farm called the Rye, possessed by Colonel Rumbold, the Ryehouse Plot. These gentlemen were actuated by very dif- ferent views. Monmouth had probably no object but the crown; Russell and Hampden were for re- straining the prerogative, and securing the nation's liberties, civil and religious; Sydney and Essex were for restoring the republic; while Howard, a man without principle, seems to have had nothing in view but to raise a tumult, whereby he might by accident promote his private interest. All of them, however, agreed in soliciting the co-operation of those Scots- men who, no longer able to subsist under the imposi- tions of a tyrranous government, were about to trans- port themselves to a distant and desert country. Most of the con>pirators having some previous know- ledge of Carstairs, he was employed to negotiate be- tween the parties; and he was empowered by a letter from Sir James Stewart, afterwards lord-advocate for Scotland, to assure the English conspirators that, upon furnishing a certain sum of money for the pur- chase of arms and ammunition, the Scottish refugees in Holland were ready to co-operate with them by an immediate descent upon the west coast of Scotland. This letter lie communicated to Russell and Sydney, seconding its contents by a fervent eulogium upon the influence, the talents, and the particular merits of Argyle, whose numerous vassals, extensive juris- dictions, as well as his past sufferings, pointed him out as the most proper person to head an insurrection in that country. All this must have been self-evident to the whole party ; yet they do not seem to have been so cordial as might have been expected. Though Carstairs ceased not to press the object of his mission, he was put off from time to time, till he was at length told by Shepherd, one of the subaltern conspirators, that he had heard Sydney declare that he would have nothing to do with Argyle, being well aware that, whatever his present circumstances might prompt him to undertake, he was too strongly attached to the reigning family and to the present government, both 111 church and state, to unite cordially with them in their measures. At the same time, he was told both by Shepherd and Ferguson that the party were jealous of Sydney, as driving a secret design of his own; and Ferguson hinted to .Mr. Carstairs that there might be an easier method of attaining their point than by an open rebellion, as by taking the lives of at most two men they might spare the lives of thousands, meaning thereby the a-sas-ination of the kin:; and the Duke of York. Feeling himself insulted, and the cause disgraced by such a proposal, Mr. Carstairs told Ferguson that he ami the men with whom he was engaged thought themselves warranted, even with arm- in their hands, to demand, for redress of their grievances, those constitutional remedies which had been so often denied to their complaints and re- monstrances; but they held it beneath them to adopt any such mean and cowardly contrivances either against the king or his brother. From that time forward Ferguson never mentioned any such thing in his presence, nor did lie ever hear it alluded to ::: his VOL. I. intercourse with any other of the party. Disgusted, however, with their procrastination, he took his de- parture for Holland, without carrying any message, having refused to do so except it were a full com- pliance with his demands. Scarcely had he landed in Holland, than Shaftes- bury found it convenient to follow him, not daring to trust himself any longer in England; and by his desertion, the remaining conspirators, finding their connection with the city of London broken, saw it the more necessary to unite with Argyle and the re- fugees abroad, as well as with the Scot-, at home. Sydney now dropped all his objections, and letters were immediately forwarded to Carstairs, requesting him to come over, and an express was >ent down to Scotland, for his friends to come up, in order to a speedy adjustment of an insurrection and consen- taneous invasion. In consequence of this, consulta- tions were held among the refugees, Argyle, Stair, Loudoun, Stewart, and others, where it was proposed that the conspirators in England should contribute ^30, 000 sterling in money, and 1000 horse, to be ready to join Argyle the moment he should land upon the west coa.st of Scotland. Mr. Stewart was for accepting a smaller sum of money, if so much could not be obtained; but all agreed in the necessity of raising the horse before anything should be attempted. Stair seemed more cold in the matter than the others; but Argyle having assured Carstairs that, so soon as the preliminaries were settled, he would be found abundantly zealous, he consented to carry their pro- posals, and lay them before th, committee or council that had been appointed by the conspirators to con- duct the business at London. When he arrived there he was mortified to find that the difficulty of raising the money now was as formidable an obstacle a-, the opposition of Sydney had formerly been. Russell frankly acknowledged that the whole party could not raise so much money; and begged that £10,000 might be accepted as a beginning, and even this was never paid to Shepherd, who was appointed cashier to the concern, nor was one single step taken for lev} ing the proposed number of troops upon the borders. After having spent several weeks in London, Carstairs became perfectly convinced, from the temper of the men and their mode of procedure, that the scheme would come to nothing. This opinion he communi- cated to a meeting of his countrymen, where were present Baillie of Jerviswood, Lord Melvill, Sir John Cochrane, the Campbells of Cessnock, and others, recommending them to attend to their own by putting an immediate stop to further preparatii ms, till their brethren of England should be better pie- pared to join them. Baillie of Jerviswood, the most ardent of all his countrymen engaged in this enter- prise, reflected bitterly upon the timidity ^{ the English, who had suffered their zeal to evaporate in talk, when they might, by promptitude of n ti have been already successful, and in-ist< it! t th Scots should prosecute the undertaking by 1 selves. There was, no doubt, in this - n th 1 „" very heroic; but alas! it was vain, and he him.-e'.l \\ - speedily brought to confe.-s that it was so. F un- agreed to, however, by all that should be made to their Engl -h .that, they were determined to act with ::: 'ie \ were not to expect co- Scots any longer. In the 11 their friends in Scotland, t tions till further notice. Thi> »s- a very; r ; wise determinati n ; l I he English inspirators 1 they had no deoFn. The; time of action, an i the wh 1c .heme ' 21 WILLIAM CARSTAIRS. falling to pieces by its own weight. In short, before they could return an answer to their Scottish brethren, the whole was betrayed, and they were alone to a man in the hands of the government. The prudence of the Scots saved them in part; yet the government got immediate information that there had been a correspondence carried on with Argyle by the conspirators, and Major Holmes, the person to whom all Argyle's letters were directed, was taken into custody, having a number of the letters and the cypher and key in his possession. The cypher and key belonged to Mr Carstairs, who had sent it to Monmouth only two days before, to enable him to read a letter from Argyle, which, hav- ing done, he returned it to Major Holmes, in whose hands it was now taken. The Earl of Melfort no sooner saw the cypher than he knew part of it to be the handwriting of Carstairs; and an order was in- stantly issued for his apprehension, as art and part in the assassination plot. Though Mr. Carstairs was conscious of being innocent as to this part of the plot, he had gone too far with the conspirators for an examination on the subject to be safe either for him- self or his friends. He therefore assumed a fictitious name, and concealed himself among his friends in Kent the best way he could. Being discovered, he was suspected to be the notorious Ferguson, of all the conspirators the most obnoxious to government, and as such was seized in the house of a friend at Tenterden, and thrown into the jail of that place on the Monday after the execution of Lord Russell. 1 lere he continued for a fortnight, when orders came for his being brought up to London, where he was for some days committed to the charge of a mes- senger-at-arms. During this interval Sir Andrew Eorrester brought him a message from the king in- forming him, that though his majesty was not dis- posed to believe that lie had any direct hand in plotting either his death, or that of the Duke of York; yet as he had corresponded with Argyle and Russell, he was convinced that he knew many par- ticulars relative to the Ryehouse Plot, which, if he would discover, with what he knew of any other machinations against the government, he would not only receive an ample pardon for the past, but the king would also show him all manner of favour for the time to come. If, however, he rejected this, he was to abide by the consequences, which, in all likelihood, would be fatal to him. His answer not proving satisfactory, he was committed to close custody in the Gatehouse, where he continued up- wards of eleven weeks. During this time he was often before the privy-council, but revealed nothing. At length, finding that lie could obtain no favour through the king, but upon dishonourable conditions, he petitioned the court of King's Bench for his habeas corpus, instead of which he received an intimation that he was to be sent down to Scotland within twenty-four hours, to take his trial in that kingdom. It was in vain that he represented it as a breach of law to send him to be tried in Scotland for a crime said to be committed in England. He was sent off next day with several others who were consigned into the hands of the Scottish privy-council, to be tried for compassing the death of the king in London, or at the Ryehouse, between London and New- market. Among that unhappy number was a servant of Argyle, of the name- of Spence, who was instantly brought before that most abominable tribunal, the privy-council of Scotland, where, because he refused to take an oath to criminate himself, he was first put to the torture of the boot, which he endured with unshrinking firmness; then kept from sleep upwards of nine nights to 'ether— which not answering the expectations that had been formed, steel screws were invented for his thumbs, which proved so exquisite a torment, that he sunk under it, the Earl of Perth assuring him at the same time that they would screw every joint of his body in the same maimer till he took the oath. Even in this state, Spence had the firmness to stipulate that no new questions should be put to him, that he should not be brought forward as a witness against any person, and that he himself should be pardoned. He then acquainted them with the names of Argyle's correspondents, and assisted them in decyphering the letters, by which it was seen what Argyle had demanded, and what he had promised to do upon his demands being granted; but there was nothing in them of any agreement being then made. Carstairs, in the meantime, was laid in irons, and continued in them several weeks, Perth visiting him almost daily, to urge him to reveal what he knew, with promises of a full pardon, so far as he himself was concerned. On this point, however, Mr. Car- stairs was inflexible; and when brought before the council, the instruments of torture being laid before him, and he asked by the Earl of Pei th if he would answer upon oath such questions as should be put to him, he replied, with a firmness that astonished the whole council, that in a criminal matter he never would, but, if they produced his accusers, he was ready to vindicate himself from any crime they could lay to his charge. He was then assured, that if he would answer a few questions that were to be put to him concerning others, nothing he said should ever militate against himself, nor should they ever inquire whether his disclosures were true or false; but he peremptorily told them, that with him, in a criminal cause, they should never found such a de- testable precedent. To the very foolish question put to him, if he had any objections against being put to the torture, he replied, he had great objec- tions to a practice that was a reproach to human nature, and as such banished from the criminal courts of every free country. Here he repeated the remon- strances he had given in to the council at London, and told them that he did consider his trial a breach of the habeas corpus act. To this Perth replied, that he was now in Scotland, and must be tried for crimes committed against the state by the laws of that country, had they been committed at Constantinople. The executioner was now brought forward, ami a screw of a particular construction applied to his thumb, with such effect, that large drops of sweat streamed over his brow. Yet he was self-possessed, and betrayed no inclination to depart from his first resolution. The Earl of Queensberry was much af- fected, and after telling Perth that he saw the poor man would rather die than confess, he ran out of the council, followed by the Duke of Hamilton, both being unable longer to witness the scene. Perth sat to the last without betraying any symptoms of compassion for the sufferer. On the contrary, when by his express command the executioner had turned the screw with such violence as to make Carstairs cry out that now he had squeezed the bones to pieces, the monster, in great indignation, told him that if he continued longer obstinate, he hoped to see every bone in his body squeezed to pieces. Hav- ing kept their victim under this cruel infliction for an hour and a half without effect, the executioner was ordered to produce the iron boots, and apply them to his legs; but, happily for Mr. Carstairs, the execu- tioner, young at his trade, and composed of less stern stuff than his masters, was so confused that lie could not fix them on. After repeated attempts, lie was obliged to give it up, and the council adjourned. WILLIAM CARSTAIRS. 323 Torture having thus proved vain, the council once more assailed him in the way of flattery, promising him an ample pardon for himself, and that he should never be called in any court as a witness on any trial; and they further stipulated that none of his answers to the interrogatories to be put to him, should ever be produced in evidence, either directly or indirectly, in any court or against any person whatsoever. On these conditions, as they had al- ready extracted from Mr. Spence and Major Holmes nearly all that he could inform them of upon the stipulated questions, he consented to answer them, provided the promise made him was ratified by a deed of court, and recorded in their books. He had, however, scarcely given his answers, when they were printed and hawked through the streets, under the name of Carstairf Confession. Had they been printed correctly, less might have been said; but they were garbled to suit the purpose of the ruling party, which was to criminate Jerviswood, on whose trial Mackenzie the advocate read them to the jury as an adminicle of proof, without taking any notice of the qualifications with which they were clothed, the alleviating circumstances with which the facts to which they related were accompanied, or the con- ditions upon which he delivered them. They were so far true to their agreement, however, as to relieve him from his confinement in a dungeon of the castle, where he had remained for some months cut off from all communication with his friends, and struggling underthe infirmities of a shattered constitution. He was also permitted to leave Scotland, on condition that he should wait on the secretaries at London, on his way to Holland. Milport being then at court, he went to him and demanded a pass, which he found no difficulty in obtaining; but the king was desirous to see him, and the secretary thought he ought in duty to wait upon him, and receive his commands. On stating, however, that, in such a conversation with the king, he might be led to say what might not be so honourable to some of his majesty's servants in Scotland, the secretary made out his pass, and he departed for Holland, where he arrived in the end of the year 1684, or the beginning of 16S5, only a few months before the death of Charles II., and the accession of James VII. This was by far the most important event in the life of Carstairs, and it is impossible to say how much the human race may be indebted to his firm- ness and his address on this occasion. He had, at this very time, secrets of the greatest consequence from Holland, trusted to him by the Pensionary Fagel, of which his persecutors had no suspicion. The discovering of these secrets would not only have saved him from torture, hut have brought him a high reward, and, had they been at that time discovered, the glorious revolution might have been prevented, and these kingdoms, instead (if being the first and most exalted, as they are at this day, been among the lowest and most debased. The great anxiety the Scottish managers were under to take the life of Baillie, by implicating him in the Ryehouse Plot, seems so totally to have blinded them, that they had no suspicion of the Hutch connection, which Carstairs was so apprehensive about, and which he was so successful in concealing. ( >n his return to Holland. William, fully appreciating his merits, received him into his family, appointed him one of his own chaplain-, and at the same time pro- cured him to be elected minister of the English Pro- testant congregation at Leyden. To the day of his death William reposed upon the advice of Carstairs with the most perfect confidence. He was now, indeed, much better qualified than ever fur being serviceable to his illu-trious patron. During his stay in Britain he had had a fair opportunity of judging of public men and public measures. He had not only witnessed in others, but he had felt himself, the severities of a Popish administration; and he saw the universal alienation of all ranks from the system of government they had adopted, and perceived that the very methods fallen upon for stilling popular clamour was only tending to its increase. The narrow politics of the Duke of York he had thor- oughly penetrated, was aware of all the schemes he- had laid for enslaving the nation, and saw that the tools with which he was working could easily be turned to his own destruction. ( )f all these interest- ing particulars he was admitted to give hi- sentiments freely to the Prince of Orange, who was no longer at pains to conceal his aversion to the means James was employing to restore the Catholic church. This encouraged still greater numbers of suffering Briti-h subjects to place themselves under his protection, for the characters of whom his royal highness gene- rally applied to Carstairs, and he was wont to re- mark, that he never in one instance had occa-ion to charge him with the smallest attempt to mislead or deceive him. It cannot indeed be doubted that he was made the channel of many complaints and advices to William, which were never made known to the public. Of these secret warnings the prince had sagacity enough to make the best use, even when he was to outward appearance treating them with neglect, and Carstairs himself was in ad pro- bability not a little surprised when he was summoned to attend him on an expedition to Great Britain. .Notwithstanding all that has been spoken and written and printed about it, we believe that William felt very little, and cared very little, about the sufferings of the British people; but he had an eye steadily fixed upon the British crown, to which, tili the birth of a Prince of Wales, June 10th, 16SS. his wife was the heir-apparent, and so long as he had the pro- spect of a natural succession, whatever might be the disorders of the government or the wishes of the people, he was not disposed to endanger his future greatness by anything like a premature attempt to secure it. The birth of the prince, however, gave an entirely new aspect to his affairs. He behoved now to embrace the call of the people, or abandon all reasonable hopes of ever wearing that diadem which he so fondly coveted, and by which alone he could ever hope to carry his great plans of European policy into effect. Equally wise to discern and prompt to act. he lost not a moment in hesitation: lie hastened his preparations, and on the 19th of October, 16SS, set sail for Britain with sixty-five ships of war, and 500 transports, carrying upwards of 15,000 men. The subject of this memoir accom- panied him as his dome-tic chaplain aboard his own ship, and he had in his train a numerous retii British subjects, whom the tyranny of the tinu - driven to Holland. On the evening of the same day, the fleet was dispersed in a tivmen cane, and by the dawn of next morning in : "•■• > ■ ■: the whole fleet were to be seen together, tin the third day William returned to port, with 1 l\ 1 ur -hips of war and fort}' tran-port-. II which he himself sailed nan"' wly escaped :_ wrecked, which was looked as an evil omen, and . re-t 1 ;• I' afterwards Bi-hop of Sali-bury. w\ th, I it seemed predc.-tine i they -' . : " ' - ' ' ' n English ground. A ft the whole fleet the i-t of No- vember it sailed again with I; v the 5th, tin. :. - .\ere rifely Ian !eJ r.l 3^4 WILLIAM CARSTAIRS. Torbay in Devonshire, the English fleet all the while lying wind-bound at Harwich. On the landing of the troops, Mr. Carstairs performed divine service at their head, after which the whole army drawn up along the beach sang the uSth psalm before going into camp. From this time till the settlement of the crown upon William and Mary, Carstairs con- tinued about the person of the prince, being con- sulted and employed in negotiating affairs of peculiar delicacy, and disposing of sums of money with which he was intrusted, in various quarters. "It was during this interval," says his biographer, and the editor of his state papers, the Rev. Joseph M'Cor- mick, "that he had it in his power to be of the greatest service to the Prince of Orange, nothing being carried on relative to the settlement of Scot- land which the prince did not communicate to him, and permit him to give his sentiments of in private." He was highly instrumental in procuring the settle- ment of the Church of Scotland in its present Pres- byterian form; which was found to be a matter of no small difficulty, as the king was anxious that the same system should continue in both parts of the island. Carstairs has been often blamed for having acceded to the king's wishes for maintaining patron- age, and also for recommending that some of the worst instruments of the late monarch should be continued in office, which he did upon the plea that most of them were possessed of influence and quali- fications, which, if properly directed, might be use- ful under the new regime. It must be recollected, that, at such a critical time, a man of Carstairs' poli- tical sagacity was apt to be guided rather by what was practically expedient than what was abstractly proper. It is probable that Carstairs, who was un- questionably a sincere man, was anxious to render the settlement of the church and of the government as liberal as he thought consistent with their stability, or as the circumstances he had to contend against would permit. King William now took an oppor- tunity of atoning to his counsellor for all his former sufferings; he appointed Mr. Carstairs his chaplain for Scotland, with the whole revenue of the chapel royal. He also required the constant presence of Mr. Carstairs about his person, assigning him apart- ments in the palace when at home, and when abroad with the army allowing him .£500 a year for camp equipage. He was of course with his majesty at all times, and by being thus always at hand, was enabled on some occasions to do signal service both to his king and his country. Of this we have a remarkable in- stance which happened in the year 1694. In 1693 the Scottish parliament had passed an act obliging all who were in office to take the oatli of allegiance to their majesties, and at the same time to sign the assurance, as it was called, whereby they declared William to be king de jure as well as dc facto. This was one of the first of a long series of oppressive acts intended secretly to ruin the Scottish church by bring- ing her into collision witli the civil authorities, and in the end depriving her of that protection and coun- tenance which she now enjoyed from them. This act had been artfully carried through the parliament by allowing a dispensing power to the privy-council in cases where no known enmity to the king's pre- rogative existed. No honest Presbyterian at that time had any objection to King William's title to the crown; but they had insuperable objections to the taking of a civil oath as a qualification for a sacred office. Numerous applications were of course made to the privy-council for dispensations; but that court, which had still in it a number of the old perse- cutors, so far from complying with the demand, re- commended to his majesty to allow no one to sit down in the ensuing General Assembly till he had taken the oath and signed the assurance. Orders were accordingly transmitted to Lord Carmichael, the commissioner to the Assembly, to that effect. When his lordship arrived in Edinburgh, however, he found the clergy obstinately determined to refuse compliance with his demand, and they assured him it would kindle a flame over the nation which those who had given his majesty this pernicious counsel would be unable to extinguish. Lord Carmichael, firmly attached to his majesty, and aware that the dissolution of this Assembly might not only be fatal to the Church of Scotland, but to the interests of his majesty in that country, sent a flying packet to the king, representing the difficulty, and requesting further instructions. Some of the ministers at the same time wrote a statement of the case to Carstairs, requesting his best offices in the matter. Lord Carmichael's packet arrived at Kensington on a forenoon in the absence of Mr. Carstairs, and William, who, when he could do it with safety, was as fond of stretching the prerogative as any of his predecessors, peremp- torily renewed his instructions to the commissioner, and despatched them for Scotland without a moment's delay. Scarcely was this done when Carstairs arrived ; and, learning the nature of the despatch, hastened to find the messenger before his final departure, and having found him, demanded back the packet in his majesty's name. It was now late in the evening, but no time was to be lost; so he ran straight to his majesty's apartment, where he was told by the lord in waiting that his majesty was in bed. Carstairs, however, insisted on seeing him; and, being intro- duced to his chamber, found him fast asleep. He turned aside the curtain and gently awakened him; the king, astonished to see him at so late an hour, and on his knees by his bedside, asked, with some emotion, what was the matter. "I am come," said Carstairs, "to beg my life !" "Is it possible," said the king, with still higher emotion, "that you can have been guilty of a crime that deserves dentil?'" "I have, sire," he replied, showing the packet he had just brought back from the messenger. "And have you, indeed," said the king, with a severe frown. " presumed to countermand my orders?" "Let me be heard but for a few moments," said Carstairs, "and I am ready to submit to any punishment your majesty shall think proper to inflict." He then pointed out very briefly the danger of the advice he had acted upon, and the consequences that would necessarily follow if it was persisted in, to which his majesty listened with great attention. When he had done, the king gave him the despatches to read, after which he ordered him to throw them into the fire, and draw out others to please himself, which he would sign. This was done accordingly; but so man)' hours' delay prevented the messenger from reaching Kd in burgh till the very morning when the Assembly was to meet, and when nothing but confusion was expected, the commissioner finding himself under the necessity of dissolving the Assembly, and the ministers being determined to assert their own au- thority independent of the civil magistrate. both parties were apprehensive of the consequences, and both were happily relieved by the arrival of the mes- senger with his majesty's letter, signifying that it was his pleasure that the oaths should be dispensed with. With the exception of the act establishing Presbytery, this was the most popular act of his majesty's govern- ment in Scotland. It also gained Mr. Carstairs, when his part of it came to be known, more credit with his brethren and with Presbyterians in general than perhaps any other part of his public procedure. WILLIAM CARSTAIRS. 225 From this period down to the death of the king there is nothing to be told concerning Carstairs hut that he continued still in favour, and was assiduously courted by all parties, anil was supposed to have so much influence, particularly in what related to the church, that he was called Cardinal Carstairs. Having only the letters that were addressed to him, without any of his replies, we can only conjec- ture what these may have been. The presumption is, that they were prudent and discreet. Though he was so great a favourite with William, there was no provision made for him at his death. Anne, how- ever, though she gave him no political employment, continued him in the chaplainship for Scotland, with the same revenues he had enjoyed under her prede- cessor. In the year 1704 he was elected principal of the college of Edinburgh, for which he drew up a new and very minute set of rides; and, as he was wanted to manage affairs in the church courts, he was, at the same time (at least in the same year), presented to the church of Greyfriars; and, in con- sequence of uniting this with his office in the univer- sity, he was allowed a salary of 2200 merks a year. Three years after this he was translated to the High- church. Though so deeply immersed in politics, literature had always engaged much of Carstairs' attention; and he had, so early as 1693, obtained a gift from the crown to each of the Scottish univer- sities of ,£300 sterling per annum out of the bishops' rents in Scotland. Now that he was more closely connected with these learned bodies, he exerted all his influence with the government to extend its en- couragement and protection towards them, and thus essentially promoted the cause of learning. It has indeed been said that from the donations he at various times procured for the Scottish colleges he was the greatest benefactor, under the rank of royalty, to those institutions that his country ever produced. The first General Assembly that met after he became a minister of the Church of Scotland made choice of him for moderator; and in the space of eleven years he was four times called to fdl that office. From his personal influence and the manner in which he was supported he may be truly said to have had the entire management of the Church of Scotland. In leading the church he displayed great ability and comprehensiveness of mind, with uncommon judg- ment. "He moderated the keenness of party zeal, and infused a spirit of cautious mildness into the de- liberations of the General Assembly. 1 As the great !i idy of the more zealous clergy were hostile to the union of the kingdoms, it required all his influence to reconcile them to a measure which he, as a whole, approved of as of mutual benefit to the two countries; and although after this era the Church of Scotland lost much of her weight in the councils of the king- dom, she still retained her respectability, and per- haps was all the better of a disconnection with po- litical affairs. When Queen Anne, among the last acts of her reign, restored the system of patronage, he vigorously opposed it; and, though unsuccessful, his visit to London at that time was of essential ser- vice in securing on a stable basis the endangered liberty of the church. The ultra-Tory ministry, hos- tile to the Protestant interests of these realms, had devised certain strong measures for curtailing the power of the Church of Scotland, by discontinuing her assemblies, or at least by subjecting them wholly to the nod of the court. Mr. Carstairs pre- vailed on the administration to abandon the attempt; and he, on his part, promised to use all his influence ' We here quote from .1 mem lir of Prinripa! Carstairs, which appeared in the Christian Instructor, f r Starch, i;.-;. to prevent the discontents occasioned by the patron- age bill from breaking out into open insurrection. It may be remarked that, although patronage is a privilege which, if harshly exercised, acts as a severe oppression upon the people; yet, while justified so far in abstract right by the support which the patron is always understood to give to the clergyman, it was, to say the least of it, more expedient to be en- forced at the commencement of last century than perhaps at present, a> it tended to reconcile to the church many of the nobility and gentry of the country, who were, in general, votaries of Episcopacy, and therefore disaffected to the state and to the general interests." Principal Carstairs was, it may be supposed, a zealous promoter of the succession of the house of Hanover. Of so much importance were his services deemed, that George I., two years before his acces- sion, signified his acknowledgments by a letter, and immediately after arriving in England, renewed his appointment as chaplain for Scotland. The last considerable duty upon which the principal was en- gaged was a mission from the Scottish church to congratulate the first prince of the house of Brunswick upon his accession. He did not long survive this period. In August, 1 71 5, he was seized with an apoplectic fit, which carried him off about the end of the December following, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. His body lies interred in the Greyfriars' churchyard, where a monument is erected to his memory, with a suitable inscription in Latin. The university, the clergy, and the nation at large, united in lamenting the loss of one of their brightest orna- ments ami most distinguished benefactors. Carstairs was one of the most remarkable men ever produced by this country. He appears to have been born with a genius for managing great political un- dertakings; his father, in one of his letters, expresses a fear lest his "l/oy Willie" should become too much of a public political man, and get himself into scrapes. His first move in public life was for the emancipa- tion of his country from tyrannical misrule; and nothing could well equal the sagacity with which he conducted some of the most delicate and hazard- ous enterprises for that purpose. In consequence of the triumph of the principles which he then advo- cated, he became possessed of more real influence in the state than has fallen to the lot of many respon- sible ministers; so that the later part of his life pre- sented the strangest contrast to the earlier. What is strangest of all, he preserved through these vicissi- tudes of fortune the same humble spirit and simple worth, the same zealous and sincere piety, the same amiable and affectionate heart. It fell to the lot 01 Carstairs to have it in his power to do much good; and nothing could be said more emphatically in his praise, than that he improved every opportunity. The home and heart of Carstairs were constantly alike open. The former was the resort of .•.'.! of good men; the latter was alive to every beneficent and kindly feeling. It is related of him, that, though perhaps the most efficient enemy which the Episcopal church of Scotland ever ha 1, lie ex perpetual deeds of charity towards the rtui ate ministers of that communion who were d -: ,u I at the revolution. The effect of his gi in overcoming prejudice and conciliating ai; appeared strongly at his was laid in the dust, two men wi re oh>i rved 1 aside from the rest of the into tears, bewailed their mutual loss. I j quirv, it was found that these were two non- clergymen, whose families ha '; 1 1 \ :i -u] I considerable time by his bcnc!act:< :..-. S26 ALEXANDER CHALMERS. In the midst of all his greatness, Carstairs never forgot the charities of domestic life. His sister, who had been married to a clergyman in Fife, lost her husband a few days before her brother arrived from London on matters of great importance to the nation. Hearing of his arrival, she came to Edinburgh to see him. Upon calling at his lodgings in the fore- noon, she was told he was not at leisure, as several of the nobility and officers of state were gone in to see him. She then bid the servant only whisper to him, that she desired to know when it would be con- venient for him to see her. He returned for answer — immediately; and, leaving the company, ran to her and embraced her in the most affectionate manner. Upon her attempting to make some apology for her unseasonable interruption to business, "Make your- self easy," said he, "these gentlemen are come hither, not on my account, but their own. They will wait with patience till I return. You know I never pray long," — and, after a short, but fervent prayer, adapted to her melancholy circumstances, he fixed the time when he could see her more at leisure, and returned in tears to his company. The close attention which he must have paid to politics does not appear to have injured his literature any more than his religion, though it perhaps pre- vented him from committing any work of either kind to the press. We are told that his first oration in the public hall of the university, after his installation as principal, exhibited so much profound erudition, so much acquaintance with classical learning, and such an accurate knowledge of the Latin tongue, that his hearers were delighted, and the celebrated Dr. I'itcairn declared, that when Mr. Carstairs began his address, he could not help fancying himself in the forum of ancient Rome. In the strange mixed char- acter which he bore through life, he must have cor- responded with men of all orders; but, unfortunately, there is no collection of his letters known to exist. A great number of letters addressed to him by the most eminent men of his time were preserved by his widow, and conveyed through her executor to his descendant, Principal M'Cormick, of St. Andrews, by whom they were published in the year 1774. CHALMERS, Alexander, M.A., F.S.A. The life of this laborious literary workman is more re- markable for untiring industry, and its immense amount of produce, than for greatness or originality of genius. He was born at Aberdeen on the 29th of March, 1759, and was the youngest son of James Chalmers, printer in Aberdeen, an accomplished scholar, who established the first newspaper that existed in that town. Alexander, after completing a classical education, continued his studies for the medical profession; and, on finally being appointed to practise as surgeon in the West Indies, he left Aberdeen in 1777, to join the ship which was to carry him to his destination. but on reaching Portsmouth, instead of stepping on board, he sud- denly flew off to London. He hail either lost heart at the thought of a residence in the West Indies, at that time one of the worst of exiles, or had suddenly become enamoured witli the charms of a literary life in the metropolis. At all events, thither lie went, and although his line of existence was stretched out nearly sixty years beyond this period, his native city saw him no more. On entering London, Mr. Chalmers commenced as a contributor to the periodical press, and became editor of the Public Ledger and London Packet. It was a stirring and prolific period for journalists, in consequence of the American war; and so ably did he exert himself, that he soon became noted as a vigorous political writer. Besides his own, he exer- cised his talents in other established journals of the day, the chief of which was the St. James 1 Chronicle, where he wrote many essays, most of them under the signature of Senex. He was also a valuable assistant for some years to his fellow-townsman, Mr. James Perry, editor and proprietor of the Morning Chronicle, who had come to London at the same time as himself, and to whose newspaper Chalmers contri- buted rac\ r paragraphs, epigrams, and satirical poems. He was likewise a contributor to the Analytical Review, published by Mr. Johnson, and to the Critical Review. As the last-named magazine was published by Mr. George Robinson of Paternoster Row, a close connection was established between Mr. Chalmers and that eminent publisher, which continued till the death of the latter, and was of important service to both parties. Chalmers, who lived almost wholly with his friend, assisted him in the examination of manuscripts offered for publica- tion, and also revised, and occasionally altered and improved, those that were passed through the press. With most, indeed, of the principal publishers and printers in London during fifty years Chalmers main- tained a friendly intercourse, and of many of them he has left interesting biographies in the obituary of the Gentleman's Magazine, a favourite periodical to which he frequently contributed. These literary exertions, however, numerous though they were, and extended over a long course of years, were as nothing compared with his permanent labours as editor of many of the most important works of British author- ship; and it is by these, of which we can only give a very brief notice, that his merits are chiefly to be estimated. In 1793 he published a continuation of the History of England in Letters, two volumes. This work was so well appreciated, that four editions successively appeared, the last being in 1 82 1. In 1797 he compiled a Glossary to Shakspeare — a task peculiarly agreeable to a Scotsman, wdio finds in the copious admixture of unpolluted Saxon exist- ing in his own nativedialect, a key to much that is now obsolete in the English of the Elizabethan period. In 1798 he published ^.Sketch of the Isle of Wight, and in the same year an edition of '/'he Rev. fames Barclays Complete and Universal English Dic- tionary. In 1803 he published a complete edition of the British Essayists, beginning with the Toiler, and ending with the Observer, in forty-five volumes. The papers of this long series he carefully compared with the originals, and enriched the work with biogra- phical and historical prefaces, and a general index. During the same year he produced a new edition of Shakspeare, in nine volumes, with a life of the author, and abridgment of the notes of Stevens, accompanied with illustrations from the pencil of Fusel i. In 1805 he wrote lives of Robert burns, and Dr. Beattie, author of the Minstrel, which were pre- fixed to their respective works. In 1806 he edited Fielding's works, in ten volumes octavo; Dr. Johnson's works, in twelve volumes octavo; Warton's essays; the Taller, Spectator, and Guardian, in fourteen volumes octavo; and assisted the Rev. W. I,. Bowles in his edition of the works of Alexander Pope. In 1807 he edited Gibbon's Decline and Fall, in twelve volumes octavo, to which he prefixed a Life of the Author. In 1808, and part of the following year, he selected and edited, in forty-five volumes, the popular work known as Walker's Classics. ALEXANDER CHALMERS In 1809 he edited Bolingbroke's works, in eight volumes octavo. During this year, and the intervals of several that followed, he contributed many of the lives contained in that splendid work, the British Gallery of Contemporary Portraits. In 1S10 he revised an enlarged edition of The Works of the English Poets from Chaucer to Cowper, ami prefixed to it several biographical notices omitted in the first collection. During the same year he published A History of the Colleges, Halls, ami Public Buildings attached to the University of Oxford. This work he intended to continue, but did not com- plete it. In 1 Si 1 he revised Bishop Kurd's edition of Addison's works, in six volumes octavo, and an edition of Pope's works, in eight volumes octavo. During the same year he published, with many alterations, 7'he Projector, in three volumes octavo, a collection of original articles which he had con- tributed to the Gentleman's Magazine from the year 1802 to 1809. In 1812 he prefixed a " Life of Alexander Cruden" to a new edition of CrudeiCs Concordance. During the last-mentioned year, also, Chalmers commenced the largest and most voluminous of all his literary labours, and the work upon which his reputation chiefly rests. This was " The General Biographical Dictionary, containing an historical and critical account of the lives and writings of the most eminent men in every nation, particularly the British and Irish; from the earliest accounts to the present times." The original work, published in 1798, had consisted of fifteen volumes. Large though it was, Chalmers found it incomplete, and resolved to ex- pand it into a full and perfect work. He therefore commenced this gigantic labour in May, 1S12, and continued to publish a volume every alternate month for four years and ten months, until thirty-two volumes were successively laid before the public. The amount of toil undergone during this period may be surmised from the fact, that of the nine thou- sand and odd articles which the Dictionary contains, 3934 were entirely his own production, 2176 were re-written by him, and the rest revised and corrected. After these toils, it might have been supposed that the veteran editor and author would have left the field to younger men. He had now reached the age of fifty- seven, and had crowded that period with an amount of literary exertion such as might well indi- cate the full occupation of every day, and every hour of the day. But no sooner was the last volume of the Biographical Dictionary ended, than he was again at work, as if he had entered freshly into action; and from 1S16 to 1S23 a series of publica- tions was issued from the press that had passed under his editorial pen, chiefly consisting of biographies. But at last the "pitcher was broken at the fountain, and the wheel broken at the cistern." During the latter years of his life, he had been employed by the booksellers to revise and enlarge his Biographical Dictionary, and upon this he had continued to em- ploy himself until about a third of the work was finished, when the breaking up of his constitution obliged him to lay aside his well-worn pen. Ifi> last years were years of suffering, arising chiefly from diseases incident t<> such a sedentary life, until he sank under an attack of bronchial inflammation. His death occurred in Throgmorton Street, London, on the loth of December, 1S34, in his seventy-sixth year. His wife had die 1 eighteen years previous, and his remains were interred in the same vault with hers, in the church of St. Bartholomew, near the Royal [exchange. la the foregoing summarv we have omitted the GEORGE CHALMERS. 327 mention of not a few of Chalmers' less essential literary performances, conceiving the list to be al- ready long enough to give an idea of his character and well-spent life. We can only add, that his char- acter was such as to endear him to the literary society with whom he largely mingled, and by whom his acquaintance was eagerly sought. lie was what Dr. Johnson would have termed "a good clubbable man," and was a member ol many learned societies during half a century, as well as the affectionate biographer of many of his companions who had been wont to assemble there. He was charitable almost to a fault — a rare excess with those in whom a con- tinued life of toil is too often accompanied with an undue love of money, and unwillingness to part witli it. He was also in his private life an illustration of that Christian faith and those Christian virtues which his literary exertions had never failed to recomn CHALMERS, George, an eminent antiquary and general writer, was born in the latter part of the year 1742, at Fochabers, in Banffshire, being a younger son of the family of Pittensear, in that county. He was educated, first at the grammar- school of Fochabers, and afterwards at King's College, Aberdeen, where he had for his preceptor the celebrated Dr. Reid, author of the Inquiry into the Human Muni. Having studied law at Edin- burgh, Mr. Chalmers removed, in his twenty-first year (1763) to America, as companion to his uncle, who was proceeding thither for the purpose of re- covering some property in Maryland. Being induced to settle as a lawyer in Baltimore, he soon acquired considerable practice, and, when the celebrated ques- tion arose respecting the payment of tithes to the church, he appeared on behalf of the clergy, and argued their cause with great ability against Mr. Patrick Hendry, who subsequently became so con- spicuous in the war of independence. He was not only defeated in this cause, but was obliged, as a marked royalist, to withdraw from the country. In England, to which he repaired in 1755, his sufferings as a loyalist at last recommended him to the govern- ment, and he was in 1786 appointed to the respectable situation of clerk to the Board of Trade. The duties of this office he continued to execute with diligence and ability for the remainder of his life, a peri thirty-nine years. Before and after his appointment, he distinguished himself by the composition of various elaborate ar.d useful works, of which, as well as of all his subse- quent writings, the following is a correct chrono- logical list:— I. The Political Annals of the Present United Colonies, from their Settlement to the Peace of 1763, of which the first volume appeared in quarto, in 17S0: the second was never published. 2. Estimate of the Comparative Strength"! (J Britain, during the present ami four preceding reigr.s. 17S2. 3. Opinions on interesting subjects oi Pr.l Law and Commercial Policy; arising from Am Independence, 1784, Svo. 4. Life of Dan i 1 Del e, prefixed to an edition of the History of t London, 1786; and of Robinson Cms . 170O. 5. Life of Sir John I »av , ' He- Tracts regarding Ireland, 1786, v '. . 6. < of Treaties between Great Britain \vA tl r] weis, 1790, 2 vols. Svo. 7. Life of Th. mas 1 r.c. 17 :. Svo. S. Life of Thomas Ruddin n. A.M.. 17.4. Svo. 9. Prefatory Introduction to Dr. J - n- Debates in Parliament. 1704. Sv >. 10. \ . . . of the Privilege of the Pe pie in res; t I the t in- stitutional right of free dis . of various p'roceedings r ! itive to the 'N that right, 1796, S\ . (An Ai: r.ym '.:s Pamphlet.) 528 GEORGE CHALMERS THOMAS CHALMERS. ii. Apology for the Believers in the Shaksp'eare Papers, which were exhibited in Norfolk Street, 1797, Svo. 12. A Supplemental Apology for the Believers intheShakspeare Papers, beinga reply toMr.Malone's Answer, &c, 1799, Svo. 13. Appendix to the Supple- mental Apology; being the documents for the opinion that Hugh Boyd wrote Junius' Letters, 1S00, Svo. 14. Life of Allan Ramsay, prefixed to an edition of his Poems, 1S00, 2 vols. Svo. 15. Life of Gregory King, prefixed to his Observations on the State of England in 1696, 1804, 8vo. 16. The Poetical Works of Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, with a Life of the Author, prefatory Dissertations, and an appropriate Glossary, 1S06, 3 vols. Svo. 17. Cale- donia, &c, vol. i. 1S07, 4to; vol. ii. 1S10; vol. iii. 1S24. iS. A Chronological Account of Com- merce and Coinage in Great Britain, from the Restoration till 1810; 1810, 8vo. 19. Considera- tions on Commerce, Bullion and Coin, Circulation and Exchanges; with a view to our present circum- stances, 1S11, Svo. 20. An Historical View of the Domestic Economy of Great Britain and Ireland, from the earliest to the Present Times (a new and extended edition of the Comparate Estimate), Edin- burgh, 1812, Svo. 21. Opinions of Eminent Lawyers on various points of English Jurisprudence, chiefly concerning the Colonies, Fisheries, and Commerce of Great Britain, 1S14, 2 vols. Svo. 22. A Tract (privately printed) in answer to Malone's Account of Shakspeare's Tempest, 1815, 8vo. 23. Compara- tive Views of the State of Great Britain before and since the war, 1S17, Svo. 24. The Author of Junius ascertained, from a concatenation of circum- stances amounting to moral demonstration, 1817, Svo. 25. Churchyard's Chips concerning Scotland; being a Collection of his Pieces regarding that Country, with notes and a Life of the Author, 181 7, Svo. 26. Life of Queen Mary, drawn from the State Papers, with six subsidiary memoirs, 1 81 8, 2 vols. 4to; reprinted in 3 vols. Svo. 27. The Poetical Reviews of some of the Scottish Kings, now first collected, 1S24, Svo. 28. Robene and Makyne, and the Testament of Cresseid, by Robert Henryson, edited as a contribution to the Bannatyne Club, of which Mr. Chalmers was a member; Edinburgh, 1824. 29. A Detection of the Love-letters lately attributed in Hugh Campbell's work to Mary Queen of Sots '^25, Svo. All these works, unless in the few instances mentioned, were published in London. The author's Caledonia astonished the world with the vast extent of its erudition and research. It professes to be an account, historical and topo- graphical, of North Britain, from the most ancient to the present times; and the original intention of the author was, that it should be completed in four volumes quarto, each containing nearly IOOO pages. Former historians had not presumed to inquire any further back into Scottish history than the reign of Canmore, describing all before that time as obscurity and falile, as Strabo, in his maps, represents the in- habitants of every place which he did not know as Ichthvophagi. But George Chalmers was not con- tented to start from this point. He plunged fear- lessly into the 'lark ages, and was able, by dint of incredible research, to give a pretty clear account of the inhabitants of the northern part of the island since the Roman conquest. The pains which he must have taken in compiling information for this work, are almost beyond belief although he tells ,;s in his preface that it had only been the amuse- ment of his evenings. The remaining three volumes were destined to contain a topographical and his- torical account of each county, and the second of these completed his task so fir as the Lowlands were concerned, when death stepped in and arrested the busy pen of the antiquary, May 31, 1825. As a writer, George Chalmers does not rank high in point of elegance of style; but the solid value of his matter is far more than sufficient to counterbalance both that defect, and a certain number of prejudices by which his labours are otherwise a little deformed. Besides the works which we have mentioned, he was the author of some of inferior note, including various political pamphlets on the Tory side of the question. CHALMERS, Rev. Thomas, D.D. This emi- nent orator, philosopher, and divine, by whom the highest interests of his country during the present century have been so materially influenced, was born in the once important, but now unnoticed town of Anstruther, on the south-east coast of Fife, on the 17th March, 17S0. He was the son of Mr. John Chalmers, a prosperous dyer, ship-owner, and general merchant in Easter Anstruther, and Elizabeth Hall, the daughter of a wine merchant of Crail, who, in the course of twenty-two years, were the parents of nine sons and five daughters, of which numerous family, Thomas,, the subject of this memoir, was the sixth. After enduring the tyranny of a severe nurse, he passed in his third year into the hands of an equally severe schoolmaster, a worn-out parish teacher, whose only remaining capacity for the in- struction of the young consisted in an incessant application of the rod. Thus early was Thomas Chalmers taught the evils of injustice and oppres- sion; but who can tell the number of young minds that may have been crushed under a process by which his was only invigorated ! After having learned to read, and acquired as much Latin as he could glean under such unpromising tuition, he was sent, at the age of twelve, to the United College of St. Andrews. Even long before this period he had studied with keen relish Bunyan's Pilgrim'' s Progress, and resolved to be a minister. It appears that, like too many youths at their entrance into our Scottish univer- sities, he had scarcely any classical learning, and was unable to write even his own language ac- cording to the rules of orthography and grammar. All these obstacles, however, only called forth that indomitable perseverance by which his whole career in life was distinguished; and in his third year's course at college, when he had reached the age of fifteen, he devoted himself with such ardour to the study of mathematics, that he soon became distin- guished by his proficiency in the science, even among such class-fellows as Leslie, Ivory, and Duncan. These abstract studies required some relief, and in the case of Chalmers they were alternated with ethics, politics, and political economy. After the usual curriculum of four years he enrolled as a stu- dent of theology, but with a heart so devoted to the abstractions of geometry, that divinity occupied little of his thoughts; even when it was afterwards admitted, it was more in the form of sentimental musings, than of patient laborious inquiry for the purposes of public instruction. But he had so suc- cessfully studied the principles of composition, and acquired such a mastery of language, that even at the age of sixteen, many of his college productions exhibited that rich and glowing eloquence which was to form his distinguished characteristic in after- years. I le had also acquired that occasional dreami- ness of look and absence of manner which so often characterizes deep thinkers, and especially mathe- maticians; and of this he gave a curious illustration, when he had finished his seventh year at college, and was about to enter a family ns private tutor. His father's household had repaired to the door, to THOMAS CHALMERS. 529 bid lilm farewell; and after this was ended, Thomas irvounted the horse that was to carry him to the Dundee ferry. But in accomplishing this feat, he put his right foot (the wrong one on this occasion) into the stirrup, and was in the saddle in a trice, with his face to the horse's tail! When ready to apply for license as a preacher, an obstacle was in his way; for as yet he had not completed his nine- teenth year, while the rules of the church required that no student should be licensed before he had reached the age of twenty-one. This difficulty, however, was overruled by an exceptional clause in favour of those possessing "rare and singular quali- ties;" and it having been represented by the member of presbytery who discovered this qualification in the old statute, that Thomas Chalmers was a "lad o' pregnant pairts," the young applicant, after the usual trials, was licensed as a preacher of the gospel on the 31st of July, 1799. On entering the sacred office, Chalmers was in no haste to preach; on the contrary, he refused the numerous demands that were made upon his clerical services, took up his abode in Edinburgh during the winter of 1799-1800, for the purpose of prosecuting his mathematical studies under Professor Playfair, and deprecated the idea of even a church presenta- tion itself, lest it should prove an interruption to the progress of his beloved pursuits. The following winter he also spent in Edinburgh, almost exclusively occupied in the study of chemistry. As there was a prospect of the parish of Kilmany soon becoming vacant, which was in the gift of the United College of St. Andrews, and to which his nomination by the professors was certain, Chalmers might now have awaited in tranquillity that happy destination for life to which his studies hitherto had been ostensibly de- voted. Put science and scientific distinction were still the great objects of his ambition, and the mathe- matical assistantship of St. Andrews having become vacant, he presented himself as a candidate for the charge, in the hope that such an appointment would ultimately lead to the professorship, without oblig- ing him to forego the ministerial charge of Kilmany — for St. Andrews was the head-quarters of ecclesi- astical pluralities. In both objects he was success- ful; and having lectured and taught mathematics at college in the winter of 1802-3, on I2ln May, I ^°3» lie was inducted into his expected parish. The ardour with which he threw himself into his college •prelections, and the unwonted eloquence with which he imbued a science so usually delivered in the form of dry detail and demonstration, constituted a novelty that astonished while it delighted his pupils, and their earnest application and rapid proficiency fully corresponded with the efforts of their youthful teacher. At the close of the session, however, a bitter disappointment awaited him; he was told by his employer that his services as assistant teacher were no longer required, while inefficiency for the office was stated as the cause of his dismissal. This charge was not only most unjust in itself, but would have operated most injuriously against Mr. Chalmers, by closing the entrance to any scientific chair that might afterwards become vacant in our universities. To refute this charge, therefore, as well as to silence his maligners, he resolved to open on the following winter a class of his own in the town of St. Andrews, and there show whether or not he was fitted to be a professor of mathematics, lie accordingly did so, and was so completely attended by the pupils of his former class, that he felt no change, except in the mere locality. In taking this bold independent step, also, he was anxious to repudiate those resentful or malignant motives to which it might have been attributed. "My appearance in this place," he said, "may be ascrit>ed to the worst of passions; some may be disposed to ascribe it to the violence of a revengeful temper — some to stigmatize me as a firebrand of turbulence and mischief. These motives I disclaim. I disclaim them with the pride of an indignant heart which feels it> integrity. My only motive is, to restore that academical reputation which I conceive to have been violated by the asper- sions of envy. It is this which has driven me from the peaceful silence of the country- -which has forced me to exchange my domestic retirement for the whirl of contention." In spite of the determined hostility of the professors, whose influence was all-prevalent in the town, the three clashes of mathematics which Chalmers opened were so fully attended, that he- opened a class of chemistry also, and in this science his eloquent expositions and successful experiments were so popular that the whole country was stirred in his favour. His labours at this youthful com- mencement of his public career could only have been supported by an enthusiasm like his own; for, in addition to daily attendance on his classes, and pre- paration of lectures, demonstrations, and experi- ments, he fulfilled the duties of the pulpit, returning for that purpose to Kilmany on the Saturday even- ings, and setting out to St. Andrews on Monday morning. Even his enemies thought this labour too much, and resolved to lighten it, though with no benevolent feeling; and the presbytery was moved, for the purpose of compelling him to reside perma- nently at Kilmany, and attend exclusively to the duties of the parish. It was not the evils of plurality and non-residence in the abstract which they cared about, but that these should furnish an opportunity for the lecturer to intrude into St. Andrews, and teach within the very shadow of its university. Chalmers felt that this was their motive, and wrote to the presbytery an eloquent defence of his conduct. On the following session he conceded so far as to discontinue his mathematical classes, and only attend to that of chemistry, which had become very popular in the county, and would require his attendance only two or three days of each week. Even this did not satisfy the presbyter} - , and one of its mem- bers requested it to be inserted in their minutes, that, "in his opinion, Mr. Chalmers' giving lectures in chemistry is improper, and ought to be discon- tinued." This was done; upon which Chalmers, as a member of the presbytery, begged that it should also be inserted in their minutes, that "after the punctual discharge of his professional duties, his time was his own; and he conceived that no man or no court had a right to control him in the distribu- tion of it." An opportunity soon occurred for which Ch had ardently longed. It was nothing less than a vacancy in the professorship of natural pliih >oph; in St. Andrews, and he became one of three caiv ii iati for the chair. But the whole three were set asi . .■ in favour of Mr. Jackson, rector of Ayr A In the following year (18051a similar ■* curred in the university of Edinl of Dr. Robinson, and again Chalmers cntcn ; t:.. lists; but here also he was di>a] consolation, however, that the succe-sfu! 1 was no other than the celebrated Leslie. Th ■ n called forth his first effort the form of a pamphlet, in con> I the asser- tion, that a ministerial char: ment combined in one pers >n a pamphlet which, in subsi pietit \ to suppress, and gladly would f-rgot. At present, however, his exprc^eJ \ ".:.: n '...-. tacit THOMAS CHALMERS. '•after the satisfactory discharge of his parish duties, a minister may enjoy five days in the week of unin- terrupted leisure, for the prosecution of any science in which his taste may dispose him to engage." This, alas! was too true, if that "satisfactory dis- charge" of parochial duty involved nothing more than the usual routine of a parish minister. Chalmers, therefore, had to find some other outlet for his "un- interrupted leisure;" and after having exhausted the field of St. Andrews, he resumed his lectureship on chemistry in his little parish of Kilmany, and the county town of Cupar. But even yet something additional was needed, besides the delivery of lectures formerly repeated, and experiments that had been twice tried; and this was soon furnished by Napo- leon's menace of invasion. The hostile camp of the modern Caesar at Boulogne, and the avowed purpose for which it had been collected, roused the spirit of Britain, so that military associations were formed, from the metropolis to the hamlet, in every part of our island. This was more than enough for the ardent spirit of Chalmers, and he enrolled himself in the St. Andrews corps of volunteers, not only as chaplain, but lieutenant. It is well known how this threat of an invasion of Britain was exchanged for an attack upon Austria, and how suddenly the breaking up of the hostile encampment at Boulogne dismissed a million of armed Britons to their homes and workshops. On doffing his military attire, the minister of Kilmany had other and more professional occupation to attend to at the bedside of a dying brother, who had returned to his father's home afflicted with consumption, under which he died in a few months. 1 hiring the last illness of the amiable sufferer, one of the duties of Thomas Chalmers was to read to his brother portions of those religious works which he had denounced from the pulpit as savouring of fanaticism, and to hear the criticism pronounced upon them by the lips of the dying man, as he fervently exclaimed, "I thank thee, O Father, Lor 1 of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and revealed them unto babes." After this departure from life, which was one of solemn and impressive resignation, Chalmers gave relief to his thoughts, first by a jour- ney to England, in which he visited London, Cam- bridge, and Oxford, and afterwards by authorship. Independently of mathematics, chemistry, and botany, which his ardent spirit of inquiry had successively mastered, lie had studied the science of political economy; and now that Bonaparte had published his famous Berlin decree, by which the mercantile and manufacturing community of Britain was panic- struck. Chalmers produced his Inquiry into the Ex- tent and Stability of National Resources, to show that this apprehension was groundless. The analysis of this work can be best given in his own account of it. In a letter to his brother he says, "The great burden of my argument is, that the manufacturer who pre- pares an article for home consumption is the servant of the inland consumer, labouring for his gratifica- tion, and supported by the price which he pays for the article; that the manufacturer of an article for exportation is no less the servant of the inland con- sumer, because, though he does not labour imme- diately for his gratification, he labours for a return from foreign countries. This return comes in articles of luxury, which fetch a price from our inland con- sumers. Hence, it is ultimately from the inland con- sumer that the manufacturer of the exported article derives his maintenance. Suppose, then, that trade and manufacture were destroyed, this does not affect the ability of the inland consumer. The whole amount of the mischief is, that he loses the luxuries which were before provided for him, but he still retains the ability to give the same maintenance as before to the immense population who are now dis- carded from their former employments. Suppose this ability to be transferred to government in the form of a tax. Government takes the discarded population into its service. They follow their sub- sistence wherever it can be found; and thus, from the ruin of our trading and manufacturing interest, government collects the means of adding to the naval and military establishments of the country. I there- fore anticipate that Bonaparte, after he has suc- ceeded in shutting up the markets of the Continent against us, will be astonished — and that the mercan- tile politicians of our own country will be no less astonished — to find Britain as hale and vigorous as ever, and fitter than before for all the purposes of defence and security, and political independence." Such was the theory of Chalmers, studied with much care, written with patriotic enthusiasm, and published at Edinburgh in the spring of 1808. It was perhaps as well that no opportunity occurred of testing its soundness, owing to the remissness with which the Berlin decree was executed, so that it gradually be- came a dead letter. Chalmers, however, was so impressed with the urgency of the danger, and the efficacy of his plan to remove it, that he was anxious to obtain a national publicity for his volume; and with this view he had resolved to repair to the capital, and negotiate for bringing out a new edition by the London publishers. But this event, which might have altered the whole current of his life, and changed him into a Malthus or Adam Smith, was prevented by a trying family dispensation, so that instead of embarking in a Dundee smack as he had purposed, he was obliged to attend the deathbed of one of his sisters. It is to be observed, however, that his studies in political economy were not to be without important results. In after-years they were brought vigorously and successfully to bear upon the manage- ment of towns and parishes, and the cure of pauperism; and, above all, in organizing the provision of a church that threw aside, and at once, the support and maintenance of the state, when conscience de- manded the sacrifice. In this way the first twenty-nine years in the life of the subject of this memoir had passed. But still, it gives little or no indication of that Dr. Chalmers who was afterwards so widely renowned throughout the Christian world — of that very Dr. Chalmers whom the present generation so fondly loved, and still so vividly remembers. As yet, the record might serve for an amiable enthusiastic savant of England, France, or Italy, rather than a Scottish country min- ister intrusted with the care of souls, and preparing his accounts for the close of such a solemn steward- ship. But a series of events occurred at this time by which the whole character of his mind and min- istry was to be changed. The first and perhaps the most important of these was the death of his sister, an event to which we have already alluded. She had departed amidst feelings of hope and joy that far transcended the mere passive resignation of philo- sophy; and the affectionate heart that pined within the lonely manse of Kilmany, while remembering her worth, and lamenting her departure, had a sub- ject of anxious inquiry bequeathed to him, as to whence that hope and joy had arisen. '1 he first in- dication of this was given in a change that took place in the course of his authorship. Previous to his sister's decease, and while the Edinburgh Encyclo- fwdia was in progress, lie had been invited by Dr. Urewster, the distinguished editor, to contribute to the work; and this Chalmers had resolved to do, THOMAS CHALMERS. 331 by writing the article "Trigonometry," for which purpose he had devoted himself to the study of Cag- noli s Trigononutria Plana e Sftrka, at that time the standard work upon the subject. But after her death he changed his purpose, and earnestly requested that the article "Christianity" should be committed to Ins management, offering, at the same time, to live three or four months in St. Andrews, for the purpose of collecting the necessary materials in the college library. After his sister's decease, the ad- monitory blow was repeated; this was the death of Mr. Ballardie, a childless old officer of the navy, in whose affection he had found a second father, and who was one evening discovered dead upon his knees, having been called away into life eternal in the very midst of prayer. These warnings were suc- ceeded by a long and severe illness, that reduced him to the helplessness of infancy, and threatened to be fatal; and amidst the musings of a sick chamber, and unquiet tossings upon what he believed to be a deathbed, the anxious mind of Chalmers had full scope for those solemn investigations which the pre- vious calamities had awoke into action. But the trial ended; and after passing through such a furnace, he emerged into life, and the full vigour of life, a purified and altered man. His own account of the change and its process is truly characteristic, and it will be seen from the following extract, that a con- genial spirit from the dwellings of the dead had hovered, as it were, beside his pillow, and spoken to him words of counsel and encouragement. "My confinement," he wrote to a friend, "has fixed on my heart a very strong impression of the insignifi- cance of time — an impression which, I trust, will not abandon me though I again reach the hey-day of health and vigour. This should be the first step to another impression still more salutary — the magni- tude of eternity. Strip human life of its connection with a higher scene of existence, and it is the illu- sion of an instant, an unmeaning farce, a series of visions, and projects, and convulsive efforts which terminate in nothing. I have been reading Pascal's Thoughts on Religion; you know his history — a man of the richest endowments, and whose youth was signalized by his profound and original speculations in mathematical science, but who could stop short in the brilliant career of discovery, who could resign all the splendours of literary reputation, who could renounce without a sigh all the distinctions which are conferred upon genius, and resolve to devote every talent and every hour to the defence and illus- tration of the gospel. This, my dear sir, is superior to all Creek and to all Roman fame." This change which had taken place in the man, was soon manifested in the minister, and the pulpit of Kilmany no longer gave forth an uncertain s Hind. Hitherto Chalmers had advocated virtuous feeling and a virtuous life as the head and front of Christianity, to which the righteousness and death of our blessed Saviour were make-weights and no- thing more. And yet, even how that little was sup- plemented, and what was its mode of agency, he could not conjecture. "In what particular manner," he thus preached, "thedeathof our Redeemereffected the remission of our sin-, or rather, why that death was made a condition of this remission, seems to be an unrevealed point in the Scriptures. Perhaps the God of nature meant to illustrate the purity of his perfection to the children of men; perhaps it was efficacious in promoting the improvement, and con- firming the virtue, of other orders of being. The tenets of those whose gloomy and unenlarged minds are ant to imagine that the Author of nature re- quired the death uf Jesus merely for the ret aration of violated justice, are rejected by all free and ra- tional inquirers." In this maimer he groped his way in utter uncertainty a blind leader of the blind, upon a path where to stumble may be to fall for ever. But a year had elapsed, and his eyes were opened. "I am now most thoroughly of opinion," he writes, "and it is an opinion founded on ex- perience, that on the system of 'Do this and live,' no peace, and even no true and worthy obedience, can ever be attained. It is, 'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.' When this belief enters the heart, joy and confidence enter along with it. The righteousness which we try to work out for ourselves eludes our impotent grasp, and never can a soul arrive at true or per- manent rest in the pursuit of this object. Tl e righteousness which by faith we put on, secures our acceptance with God, and secures our interest in his promises, and gives us a part in those sanctifying influences by which we are enabled to do with aid from on high what we never can do without it. "We look to Cod in a new light — we see him as a recon- ciled Father; that love to him which terror scares away re-enters the heart, and with a new principle and a new power, we become new creatures in Jesus Christ our Lord." Not only the change in the spirit of his pulpit ministrations was now remarkable. but the manner in which they were prepared. Of this we have a striking proof in the following incident. Mr. John Bonthron, a near neighbour and intimate acquaintance, one day remarked to Mr. Chalmers before his illness had commenced: "I find you aye busy, sir, with one thing or another; but come when I may, I never find you at your studies for the Sab- bath." "Oh, an hour or two on the Saturday even- ing is quite enough for that," replied the minister. After the charge the visitor found that, call when he might, he found Mr. Chalmers employed in the study of the Scriptures, and could not help express- ing his wonderment: "I never come in now, sir, but I find you aye at your Bible." "All too little, John, all too little," was the altered minister's reply. Two years had passed onward in this state, during which the changed condition of the church ol Kil- many and its talented minister had been a subject of speculation throughout the whole country. It was not that he had abandoned scientific pursuits, still cultivated these as ardently as ever; nor relin- quished his devotedness to literature, for lie was more eager for the labours and enjoyments of author- ship than before. But all these were kept in subser- viency to a more important principle of existence, and consecrated to a higher aim. lie had now reache i the matured age of thirty-two. a ] eriod of liie at which the most active may well wish for a ] in their labours, and the most recluse and studious a companion of their thoughts. He had also been the occupant of a lonely manse during nine long year-;, but was still as ignorant of the management ai tails of housekeeping as when he first enter dwelling and sat down to resume hiscollege pr I m>. His heart, too, had been lately opened ai ■': exj by the glorious truths of the g< -pel earnestly does it then seek a congenial h an in! ■ which it may utter it- emotions, a kim rt ! - '..1 with whom it may worship and adore! A: a one was already provid 1; 01 : was to soothe his cares, animati him in his disappointment-, and, finally to rejoin him in a happier world 1 brief separation. This was Mi— ( irace Pratt. -< daughter of Captain Pratt, tl r-t Royal Yet battalion. Mr. 1 'halim : •-. ' the smallness of his stij end., : THOMAS CHALMERS. never to marry: but when this amiable lady appeared for a short time in his neighbourhood, the resolution was somehow lost sight of; and when she was about to remove to her own home, he felt that there was no further leisure for delay. He was accepted, and they were married on the 4th August, 1812. The following picture of the state of life into which he had entered, forms the beau ideal of a happy country manse, and its newly-married inmates. Writing to his sister he says, "I have got a small library for her; and a public reading in the afternoon, when we take our turns for an hour or so, is looked upon as one of the most essential parts of our family manage- ment. It gives me the greatest pleasure to inform you, that in my new connection, I have found a coadjutor who holds up her face for all the proprieties of a clergyman's family, and even pleads for their extension beyond what I had originally proposed. We have now family worship twice a-day; and though you are the only being on earth to whom I would unveil the most secret arrangements of our family, I cannot resist the pleasure of telling you, be- cause I know that it will give you the truest pleasure to understand, that in those still more private and united acts of devotion which are so beautifully de- scribed in the Collar s Saturday Night, I feel a com- fort, an elevation, and a peace of mind of which I was never before conscious." Allusion has already been made to the connection of Mr. Chalmers with the Edinburgh Encyclopedia, and the earnest desire he had expressed, so early as the year 1S09, to have the article "Christianity" intrusted to his management. This request was complied with, and early in 1S13 his treatise under that title appeared in the sixth volume of the work. It consisted, as is well known, of the evidences of the divine origin of Christianity, based, not upon the internal excellence of its character, or the proofs of its heaven-derived origin, as exhibited in the divine nature of its teaching, but simply upon the historical proofs of its authenticity. No fact in the whole range of history could he more certain than that Christ and his apostles had lived at the period assigned to them, and that they had acted and taught precisely accord- ing to the record which revelation has handed down to us. This being satisfactorily ascertained, all cavil must be silenced, and all hesitation abandoned: that teaching has been shown to be from God, and nothing more remains for man but implicitly to receive and humbly to obey it. This was his line of argument, and it had been so early matured in his mind, that he had developed the idea in one of his chemical lectures delivered at St. Andrews. "The truth of Christianity, " he said, "is neither more nor less than th ■ truth of certain facts that have been handed down to us by the testimony of reporters." The originality of his arguments, the force of his conclusions, and the eloquent, clear, and vigorous style in which they were expressed, arrested the public attention, and secured for the article such a favourable reception, that for the purpose of diffusing its benefits more widely, the proprietors of the Encyclopedia caused it to be published as a separate work. Still, how- ever, there were not a few who complained that the base of Christian evidence had been unnecessarily lessened by such an exclusive mode of reasoning; and he was addressed on the subject, not only with private remonstrance, but also with sharp criticisms through the press. The effect of all this was gra- dually to enlarge his conceptions upon the subject, so that more than twenty years after, when the work reappeared in his Institutes of Theology, it was with the internal evidences added to the external. In this way he surrendered a long-cherished and beloved theory to more matured convictions, and satisfied, while he answered, the objections which the first appearance of his treatise had occasioned. These were not the only literary labours of Chalmers at this period. About the same time that his article on Christian evidence appeared in the Encyclopedia, he published a pamphlet, entitled The Influence of Bible Societies upon the Temporal Necessities of the Poor. It had been alleged, that the parochial associations formed in Scotland in aid of the Bible .Society would curtail the voluntary parish funds that were raised for the relief of the poor. This argument touched Chalmers very closely; for he was not only an enthusiastic advocate for the relief of poverty by voluntary contribution instead of com- pulsory poor-rates, but also an active agent in the multiplication of Bible Society associations over the country. He therefore endeavoured to show that these different institutions, instead of being hostile, would be of mutual aid to each other; and that Bible societies had a tendency not only to stimulate and enlarge Christian liberality, but to lessen the amount of poverty, by introducing a more industrious and independent spirit among the poor. This was speedily followed by a review of Cnvier's Essay on the 'Theory of the Earth, which was published in the Christian Instructor, and in which Chalmers boldly ventured to call in question the generally received chronology which theologians have ventured to en- graft upon the Mosaic account of the creation. They had asserted hitherto that the world was not more than 6000 years old, and adduced the sacred history as their warrant, while the new discoveries in geology incontestably proved that it must have had a much earlier origin. Here, then, revelation and the facts of science were supposed to be completely at vari- ance, and infidelity revelled in the contradiction. But Chalmers boldly cut the knot, not by question- ing the veracity of Moses, but the correctness of his interpreters; and he asked, "Does Moses ever say that there was not an interval of many ages betwixt the fust act of creation, described in the first verse of the book of Genesis, and said to have been per- formed at the beginning, and those more detailed operations, the account of which commences at the second verse? Or does he ever make us to under- stand, that the genealogies of man went any further than to fix the antiquity of the species, and, of conse- quence, that they left the antiquity of the globe a free subject for the speculations of philosophers?" These questions, and the explanations with which they were followed, were of weight, as coming not only from a clergyman whose orthodoxy was now unim- peachable, but who had distinguished himself so lately in the illustration of Christian evidence; — and, perhaps, it is unnecessary to add, that the solution thus offered is the one now generally adopted. The subject of "missions" next occupied his pen, in consequence of an article in the Edinburgh Rez'ieiv, which, while giving a notice of Lichtenstein's Travels in Sou/hern Africa, took occasion, by lauding the Moravian missionaries, to disparage other missions, as beginning their instructions at the wrong end, while the Moravian brethren had hit upon the true expedient of first civilizing savages, and afterwards teaching them the doctrines of Christianity. Chalmers showed that, in point of fact, this statement was untrue; and proved, from the testimony of the brethren themselves, that the civilization of their savage converts was the effect, and not the cause - the sequel rather than the prelude of Christian teach- ing. They had first tried the civilizing process, and most egregiously failed; they had afterwards, and at hap-hazard, read to the obdurate savages the ac- THOMAS CHALMERS. 333 count of. our Saviour's death from the evangelists, by which they were arrested and moved in an instant; and this process, which the Moravians had afterwards adopted, was the secret of the wonderful success of their missions. These were subjects into which his heart fully entered, as a Christian divine and a lover of science, and therefore he brought to each of these productions his usual careful research and persuasive eloquence. It is not, however, to be thought that amidst such congenial occupations the intellectual labour necessary for the duties of the pulpit was in any way remitted. On the contrary, many of his sermons, prepared at this period for the simple rustics of Kilmany, were afterwards preached before crowds of the most accomplished of our island in Glasgow, Edinburgh, and London, and afterwards committed to the press, almost without any altera- tion. The highest elocpience is the utterance of a full heart that cannot be silent. And such was the eloquence of Chalmers. During three years he had been intensely occupied with the mast important and soul-engrossing of all themes: they brought to his awakened perceptions the charm of a new exist- ence; and these sermons were but the expressions of love, and wonder, and delight, which every fresh discovery of that new existence evolved from him. And where, in such a state, was the need of listening thousands, or the deep muttered thunder of popular applause? He must thus write though no eye should peruse the writing, and give it utterance although it were only to the trees or the winds. And when such productions are spoken before living men, the orator, while his auditors appear before him in glimpses and at intervals, does not pause to L^auge their intellectuality, their rank, or their numbers. lie only feels that they are immortal beings, and that he is commissioned to proclaim to them the tidings of eternity. But the time had now arrived when this training, in the course of Providence, was to be turned to its proper account, and such powers to find their proper field of action. His renown as a preacher, by which all Fifeshire was stirred, had <;one abroad, while his literary reputation and intellectual powers were stamped by his published productions beyond the possibility of doubt or cavil. In this case, too, as was most fitting, he did not seek, but was sought. Dr. Macgill, minister of the Tron Church, Glasgow, had been translated to the divinity chair of the university of that city, and the task of finding a successor to the vacant pulpit devolved upon the town-council. The name of the minister of Kilmany was forthwith heard, and, after due consideration, the usual overtures were made to him to accept the charge of the Tron Church. But tempting though such an offer might be, the rural minister demurred and held back. He could not persuade himself to abandon a people whom his lately-awakened spirit ha 1 inspired with a kindred sympathy, and who were wont every Sabbath to throng their long- deserted pews with such eager solicitude, and listen to his teaching with such solemn interest. But, above all, the secularities of a great city charge, and the inroads which it would make upon his time and attention, filled him with alarm. "I know of in- stances," he write in reply, "where a clergyman has been called from the country to town for his talent at preaching; and when he got there they so belaboured him with the drudgery of their incau- tious, that they smothered and extinguished the very talent for which they haacred office had nothing to do. Three months had scarcely elapsed, when we find him thus writing on the subject: "This, sir, is a wonderful place; and I am half-entertained, half-provoked, by some of the pecu- liarities of its people. The peculiarity which bears hardest upon me is, the incessant demand they have upon all occasions for the personal attendance of the ministers. They must have four to every funeral. or they do not think that it has been genteelly gone through. They must have one or more to all the committees of all the societies. They must fall in at every procession. They must attend examinations innumerable, and eat of the dinners consequent upon these examinations. They have a niche assigned them in almost every public doing, and that niche must be filled up by them, or the doing loses all its solemnity in the eyes of the public. There seems to be a superstitious charm in the very sight of them; and such is the manifold officiality with which they are covered, that they must be paraded among all the meetings and all the institutions." It was not without cause that he thus complained; for in coming to details, we find him at one time obliged to sit in judgment as to whether such a gutter should be bought up and covered over, or left alone as it - and whether ox-head soup or pork-broth was th • fittest diet for a poorhouse; alternated, on going home, with the necessity of endorsing applications 1 : persons wishing to follow the calling of -; and pedlars. This, indeed, was to have "greatnes- thrust upon him!'' But the evil hade; Glasgow so early as the clays of the covi every movement was more or less coi religion; anil it was perpetuated and continued by the mercantile bustle that succeeded in later when every merchant or shopkeeper v. .> <. devolve upon the minister ti s, would have interfered with his own ; • : - pursuits. These difficulties ( to wrestle down as he best 1 . ' '■ being complained of as an inn \ ' : hut a persever- ing course of sturdy refusal at lei .th grievance to a mai --• Vt ':■■ ■ ' was surmounted, there was still :her t j got rid of, that originated in his ow 1 irity. I le v. as now tl lion and est 1. so that all w ere it t ■ : !y l iger tu 334 THOMAS CHALMERS. visit liim, but to have their visits reciprocated. When these demands were also compressed within tolerable limits, a third difficulty was to be con- fronted, that could not so easily be overcome, as it arose from his own parish, of which he had the oversight. That our ministers might be able, like the apostles of old, to give themselves "continually to prayer and to the ministry of the Word," our church had wisely appointed not only deacons to take charge of the temporalities of the congregation, but elders to assist the pastor in the visitation of the sick and all the out-door duties of his ecclesiastical charge. But while the work of the deaconship had become of late little more than a dead letter, the duties of the eldership had diminished almost entirely to the Sabbath collections in the church-porch, and their allocation to the poor of the parish. Most truly, therefore, did a certain minister of Edinburgh, after a charity-sermon, announce, in full simplicity of heart, to those who might be disposed to con- tribute still farther, that in going out they would find standing at the door "the church-plates, and their concomitants the elders." Chalmers felt that this worn-out machinery must be renewed and restored to its former efficiency; for otherwise, in a parish containing nearly 12,000 souls, he could be little more than its Sabbath preacher. To this important task he therefore addressed himself, and the result of his labours in the ecclesiastical organization of his parish, which were followed by general imitation, proved how justly he had appreciated the difficulties that beset a city minister, and the most effectual remedies by which they are obviated. While he was thus contending with this "mortal coil" of secular occupation, and shuffling it off as well as he might, the pulpit preparations of the new minister evinced that it was not his own ease that he sought by this earnest desire of silence and seclusion. Tor it was not by mere eloquence and originality of style that his weekly sermons not only retained, but increased, his reputation and efficiency; on the con- trary, their depth of thought and originality of senti- ment were more wonderful than their language, powerful and startling though it was. His preaching was in some measure the commencement of a new era in the history of the Scottish church. To under- stand this aright, we must keep in mind the two parties into which the church had been divided, and the solicitude they had manifested for nearly a cen- tury to avoid every meeting except a hostile collision. On the one side was the Evangelical party, with whom the sympathies of the people were enlisted; and on the other the Moderates, who, generally speaking, comprised the aristocracy, the philoso- phists, and politicians of the community — men who talked of the "march of mind" and the "progress of improvement," and. who thought that religion, as well as everything else, should accommodate itself to that progress. With such men the theology of our fathers was distasteful because it was old-fashioned, and their aim was to dilute it so effectually with modern liberalism as to adapt it to the tastes and exigencies of the day. Hence the cautiousness with which they were wont, in their sermons, to avoid all such topics as election, regeneration, and the atone- ment, and the decided preference which they showed for those moral duties upon which man can decide and act for himself. In this way they too often con- lined their teaching to those virtues on which all creeds are more or less agreed, so that sometimes it would have been difficult to divine, from the tenor of such discourses, whether the speaker was Christian, pagan, or infidel. With the Evangelical party the case was wholly different. Eager to preach the paramount importance of faith, they were too ready to lose sight of its fruits as exemplified in action; while every mention of human virtue was apt to be con- demned as legalism, self-seeking, and reliance on the covenant of works instead of the covenant of grace. That the heavenly and divine might be every- thing, the human was reduced to nothing; and to exalt the all-in-all sufficiency of redemption, man was to sit still, not only under its present coming, but also its future influences. And to impress upon their hearers more fully the necessity of this redemp- tion, an odious picture was generally drawn of human nature, in which all that is helpless, and worthless, and villanous was heaped together indiscriminately, and made to constitute a picture of man in his original condition. In this way either party diverged from the other, the one towards Socinianism, and the other to Antinomianism, so that it was sometimes hard to tell which of these aberrations was the worst; while of their flocks it might too often be said — "The hungry sheep looked up, and were not fed." It would be insulting to ask which of these two parties Chalmcis followed as a public spiritual teacher. His was a mind not likely to be allured either by the shrivelled philosophy of the one, or the caricatured Calvinism of the other. He rejected both, and adopted for himself a course which was based upon the fulness of revelation itself, instead of the exclusive one-sided nook of a body of mere reli- gionists — a course which reconciled and harmonized the anomalies of everyday reality with the unerring declarations of Scripture. Thus, he could not see that every man at his birth was inevitably a liar, a murderer, and a villain. Instead of this, there was such a thing as innate virtue ; and men might be patriots, philanthropists, and martyrs, even without being Christians. And here he drew such pictures of the natural man in his free unconstrained nobleness — such delineations of disinterestedness, humanity, in- tegrity, and self-denial welling forth from hearts that were still unrenewed, as Plato might have heard with enthusiasm, and translated into his own richest Attic eloquence. And was not all this true? Was it not daily exhibited, not only in our empire at large, but even in the mercantile communities of that city in which his lot had been cast? But while the self- complacent legalist was thus carried onward delighted and regaled with such descriptions of the innate nobleness of human character as his own teachers had never furnished, he was suddenly brought to an awful pause by the same resistless eloquence. The preacher proceeded to show that still these words were an incontestable immutable verity, "There is none righteous, no not one." Eor in spite of all this excellence, the unrenewed heart was still at enmity with Cod, and in all its doings did nothing at his command or for his sake. And therefore, however valuable this excellence might be for time and the world, it was still worthless for eternity. It was of the earth, earthy, and would pass away with the earth. It sought a requital short of heaven, and even already had obtained its reward. An event soon occurred after the arrival of Mr. (now Dr.) Chalmers in Clasgow, by which his repu- tation as a preacher was no longer to lie confined to Scotland, but diffused over the world wherever the English language is known. We allude to his well- known Astronomical Discourse's, which, ol all his writings, will perhaps be the most cherished by pos- terity. It was the custom of the city clergymen to preach every Thursday in rotationin the Tron Church; and as there were only eight ministers, the turn of each arrived after an interval of two months. Dr. THOMAS CHALMERS. 335 Chalmers took his share in this duty, for the first lime, on the 15th November, 1815, and commenced with the first lecture of the astronomical series, which he followed up during his turn in these week-day services for the year 18 16. To those who have only read these discourses it would be enough to say, in the words of .Kschines, "What would you have said if you had seen him discharge all this thunder-storm of eloquence?" They were published at the com- mencement of 1817; and the avidity with which they were read is shown by the fact that 6000 copies were disposed of in a month, and nearly 20,000 within the course of the year. Nothing like this had occurred in the publication of sermons either in England or Scot- land; and while the most illiterate were charmed with the production, the learned, the scientific, and the critical read, admired, and were convinced. London would not rest until it had seen and heard the living man; and Dr. Chalmers was invited to preach the anniversary sermon for the London Mis- sionary Society. Thither he accordingly went, and delivered a discourse in Surrey Chapel on the 14th May. The service was to commence at eleven, but so early as seven in the morning that vast building of 3000 sittings was crowded, while thousands of dis- appointed comers were obliged to go away. An ac- count of what followed, written home by Mr. Smith, one of his friends who accompanied him from Clasgow, is thus expressed: "I write under the ner- vousness of having heard and witnessed the most astonishing display of human talent that perhaps ever commanded sight or herring. Dr. Chalmers Ins just finished his discourse before the Missionary Society. All my expectations were overwhelmed in the triumph of it. Nothing from the Tron pulpit ever exceeded it, nor did he ever more arrest and wonder-work his auditors. I had a full view of the whole place. The carrying forward of minds never was so visible to me: a constant assent of the head from the whole people accompanied all his para- graphs, and the breathlessness of expectation per- mitted not the beating of a heart to agitate the stillness." Other demands for sermons followed; for, in the words of WilberforcJs Diary, "all the world was wild about Dr. Chalmers." Even Canning, who was one of his hearers, and who was melted into tears by his sermon for the Hibernian Society, declared that, "notwithstanding the northern accent and unpolished manner of the speaker, he had never been so arrested by any kind of oratory." "The tartan," he added, "beats us all." But the best and most valuable testimony was that of the Rev. Robert Hall, himself the Chalmers of England, whose generous heart rejoiced in the eclipse which he had just sustained by the arrival of his northern brother; and in writing to him, after his return to Clasgow, he ^ays: "It would be difficult not to congratulate you on the unrivalled and unbounded popularity which attended you in the metropolis The attention which your sermons have excited is probably unequalled in modern literature; and it must be a delightful reflection that you are advancing the cause of religion in innumerable multitudes of vour fellow-creature-, whose faces you will never behold till the last day." It is now time to turn from Dr. Chalmers in his study and pulpit, to Dr. Chalmers in his hard-work- ing life of everyday usefulness. And here we shall find no dreaming theorist, contented witli fireside musing upon the best plans of ameliorating the evils of society, or daunted midway by the difficulties of the attempt. Considering what he had already done, there was none who could more justly have claimed the full privileges of literary leisure and retirement. But when he threw off the throng of extraneous oc- cupation that surrounded him, it was only that he might have room for equally arduous employment, in which the "full proof of his ministry" more especially consisted. It was not enough that he should see and address his congregation; lie must visit the houses, examine the families, and become acquainted with the individuals of which that congregation was com- posed. He must also bring himself in contact with those of his parish who belonged to no congregation —the vicious, the reckless, the ignorant, and the poor — and endeavour, by his favourite process of "excava- tion," to bring them out from their murky conceal- ments into the light of day, and the elevating influence of gospel ordinances. Twelve thousand souls to be visited! — but is not a soul worth looking after? To work therefore he went as soon as he became minister of the Tron Church parish, undergoing an amount of bodily labour such as few would have cared to en- counter, but resolute not to abandon the task until it was completed. A few weeks thus employed enabled him to ascertain what evils existed as well as wdiat remedies should be applied. It was neces- sary that the destitute and the outcast of his parish should be frequently visited, and for the performance of this duty he infused his own active spirit into the eldership by which he was surrounded. The fearful ignorance that was accumulating among the young of the lower orders must be dispersed; and, for this purpose, he organized a society among his congrega- tion for the establishment of Sabbath-schools in the parish. These schools became so numerous, and so well attended, that in two years they numbered 1200 children, receiving regular religious instruction. A single close furnished the necessary amount of pupils for a school; and the teacher who visited its families for the purpose of bringing them out was taught to watch over that little locality as his own especial parish. This course of daily labour and visitation had its prospective as well as immediate benefits. Dr. Chalmers had hitherto witnessed poverty and its results only upon a small scale. It was here a family, and there an individual, over the extent 1 f a country parish; and for these cases private benevo- lence and the contributions at the church-door had generally been found sufficient. But now he was brought into close contact with poverty and destitu- tion acting upon society in thousands, and producing an aggravation of crime as well as misery, such as his rural experience had never witnessed, for all this, however, he was not wholly unprepared. Ib- had already studied the subject in the abstract, an : he found that now was the time, and here the field, to bring his theories on the subject into full opera- tion. His idea, from all he witnessed, was but the more strongly confirmed that the simple ] ar apparatus of Scotland, so effectual for the relief • : a village or country parish, would be equally effica- cious for a populous city, and that recourse to ; rates and compulsory charity would only to.-ter tli evil which it aimed to cure. This conviction !.e now endeavoured to impress, not only in conver-a- tion and by public speeches, but also by hi- on "Pauperism" in the EJ:nhn\ \ /. " . series of essavs. which he afterwards published, on the Civic and i 'hristian E \ u : But to go to the very source of p once at the root, was his chiei a only be accomplished by i a crowded city with the ] rincip dustry, independence, and m too, the parochial sy-te: adequate provision of church ace V /.; iliiv. live 1 thi- 1 . ir.d ii 336 THOMAS CHALMERS. struction ; but unfortunately, while the population of the country had been nearly trebled, the church provision had remained stationary. The consequence was, that even in his own parish of the Tron there were not a third who attended any church, notwith- standing the additional accommodation which dissent had furnished. And such, or still worse, was the state of matters over the whole of Glasgow. What he therefore wanted was "twenty more churches, and twenty more ministers" for that city alone; and this desideratum he boldly announced in his sermon on the death of the Princess Charlotte in 1817. Such a conclusion was but the unavoidable result of a train of premises to which all were ready to assent, while the demand itself, instead of being extravagant, was considerably short of the emergency. And yet it was clamoured at, and cried down in every form of argument and ridicule as the wildest of all benevolent extravagancies, and even the addition of a single church, which the magistrates had decided a few months previous, was thought too much. But strong in the confidence of truth, Dr. Chalmers held fast to his much-decried doctrine until he had the satis- faction of finding his church-extension principle gene- rally adopted, and not 20, but 200, additional churches erected in our towns and cities, to attest the soundness of his argument, and reward the zeal with which he had urged it. The one additional church to which we have ad- verted was that of St. John's, of which he was elected to be minister, with a new parish attached to it of 10,000 persons, almost entirely operatives. It re- dounds to the honour of the magistrates and town- council of Glasgow to state, that this erection of a new parish and church was for the purpose of giving Ur. Chalmers full opportunity of testing the parochial principle as applied to large towns; and that for this purpose they freed him from those restrictions which had gathered upon the old city charges, and conceded to him and his kirk-session a separate independent parochial jurisdiction. The building being finished, ua., opened on the 26th September, 1819, and crowded by its new parishioners, who had now their own church and minister, while the latter met them with equal ardour, and commenced at once the duties of his new sphere. He was ably seconded by his elders, a numerous body of active, intelligent, devoted men, and by the deacons, whose office was restored to its original efficiency under his superintendence; and as each had his own particular district to which his labours were confined, every family and every indi- vidual in the new parish, containing a population of IO,ooo, had his own spiritual and temporal condition more or less attended to. In addition to these aids, he was soon surrounded by eighty Sabbath-school teachers, each superintending the religious education of the children belonging to his own little locality. These labours were not long continued until another great parochial want called forth the attention of Dr. Chalmers. It was the state of secular education, which, defective as it was throughout Glasgow in general, was peculiarly so in the new parish, whose population chiefly consisted of weavers, labourers, and factory-workers — persons who were unable to obtain a good education for their children, notwith- standing its cheapness as compared with that of England. On account of this, it was soon found in the Sabbath-schools that many of the children could not read a single verse of Scripture without such hammering as to make its meaning unintelligible. Something must be done, and that instantly, to counteract the evil. But mere charity-schools and gratis education were an abomination to the doctor, who well knew that what is L r ot for nothing is generally reckoned worth nothing, and treated ac- cordingly. The best education at the cheapest rate — the independence of the poor secured, while their children were efficiently taught — this was the happy medium which he sought, and which he found ready to his hand in the plan of Scottish parochial educa- tion. Let such a salary be secured for the teacher, that an active and accomplished man will find it worth his while to devote himself to the work; but, at the same time, let the small school-fees of the pupils be such as to secure the feeling of personal independence, and make them value the instruction for which a price is exacted. An "education com- mittee" was therefore established for St. John's; sub- scriptions were set on foot for the erection and en- dowment of schools; and when a sufficient sum was procured, a desirable site was found for the building of the first school. The ground was the property of the college, and Dr. Chalmers repaired to its head, the venerable Principal Taylor, to obtain it upon such cheap terms as the case justly demanded. "Ah !" said the principal shaking his head, "we have been talking about establishing parochial schools in Glasgow for these twenty years." "Yes," replied Dr. Chalmers, "but now we are going to do the thing, not to talk about it; we are going to take the labour of talking and planning completely off your hands." This good-humoured application was suc- cessful; and by the middle of 1820 the school was finished, and the work of teaching commenced under two efficient schoolmasters. Another school was soon erected by the same prompt liberality that had supplied funds for the first, and conducted also by two able masters. The four teachers had each a fixed salary of ^25 per annum, and a free house, in addition to the fees of 2s. per quarter for reading, and 3s. for reading, writing, arithmetic and book- keeping, while the right of admission was limited to parishioners exclusively. There was full need of this restriction, for so highly were the benefits of this system of education appreciated, that the two schools had 419 pupils. Even when the doctor left Glasgow, also, the work was still going on through fresh con- tributions and erections, so that about 800 children belonging to the parish were furnished with the means of a complete and liberal education, at a small expense. Such a heavy and complicated amount of toil as all this organization involved, would have been impossible for any one man, however energetic, and even Dr. Chalmers himself Mould have sunk beneath the load before his four years' ex- periment in St. John's had expired, had it not been for the efficient aid which he received from his assis- tant the Rev. Edward Irving. Contemplating the vast amount of work which he had proposed to him- self in his trial of the parochial system, as applied to large towns, it had been considerately resolved that a regular assistant should be allowed him in the task; and by a train of fortuitous circumstances, that office was devolved upon a congenial spirit — one to the full as wonderful in his own way as Dr. Chalmers, but whose career was afterwards to be so erratic, and finally so mournful and disastrous. At present, how- ever, the mind of Irving, although swelling with high aspirations, was regulated, controlled, and directed by the higher intellect and gentler spirit of his illustrious principal, so that his vast powers, both physical and mental, were brought fully to bear upon their proper work. Nothing, indeed, could be a more complete contrast than the genuine simplicity and rustic bearing of Dr. Chalmers, compared with the colossal form, Salvator Rosa countenance, and startling mode of address that distinguished his gifted assistant. Put different as they were in external THOMAS CHALMERS. 337 appearance and manner, their purpose and work were the same, and both were indefatigable in advancing the intellectual and spiritual interests of the parish of St. John's. Little, indeed, could it have been augured of these two remarkable men, that in a few years after they would be the founders of two churches, and that these churches should be so different in their doctrines, character, and bearings. After having laboured four years in the ministerial charge of St. John's parish, a new change was to take place in the life of Dr. Chalmers, by the ful- filment of one of his earliest aspirations. It will be remembered, that in the period of his youth, when he was about to commence his ministry in the parish of Kilmany, his earnest wishes were directed towards a chair in the university of St. Andrews; and now, after the lapse of more than twenty years, his desires were to be gratified. The professorship of moral philosophy in that university had become vacant, and it was felt by the professors that none was so well fitted to occupy the charge, and increase the literary reputation of the college, as Dr. Chalmers, their honoured alumnus, whose reputation was now diffused over Europe. The offer, also, which was neither of his own seeking nor expecting, was tendered in the most respectful manner. Such an application from his alma mater, with which his earliest and most affectionate remembrances were connected, did not solicit him in vain; and after signifying his consent, he was unanimously elected to the office on the 18th January, 1S23. Six different applications had pre- viously been made to him from various charges since his arrival in Glasgow, but these he had steadfastly refused, for he felt that there he had a work to ac- complish, to which every temptation of ecclesiastical promotion or literary ease must be postponed. But now the case was different. The machinery which he had set in motion with such immense exertion, might now be carried on by an ordinary amount of effort, and therefore could be intrusted to a meaner hand. His own health had suffered by the labour, and needed both repose and change. He felt, also, that a new career of usefulness in the cause of religion might be opened up to him by the occupation of a university chair, and the opportunities of literary leisure which it would afford him. And no charge of self-seeking, so liberally applied in cases of clerical translation, could be urged in the present instance; as the transition was from a large to a smaller in- come; and from a thronging city, where he stood in the full blaze of his reputation, to a small and remote county town, where the highest merit would be apt to sink into obscurity. Much grumbling, indeed, there was throughout Glasgow at large, and not a little disappointment expressed by the kirk-session of St. John's, when the proposed movement was an- nounced; but the above-mentioned reasons had at last their proper weight, and the final parting was one of mutual tenderness and esteem. The effect of his eight years' labours in that city is thus summed up by his eloquent biographer, the Rev. Dr. Hanna: — '"When Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow, by the great body of the upper classes of society evangelical doctrines were nauseated and despised; when he left it, even by those who did not bow to their influence, these doctrines were acknowledged to be indeed the very doctrines of the Bible. When Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow, in the eye of the multitude evan- gelism stood confounded with a drivelling sancti- moniousness or a sour-minded asceticism; when he left it, from all such false associations the Christianity of the New Testament stood clearly and nobly re- deemed. When Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow, for nearly a century the magistrates and town-council VOL. I. had exercised the city patronage in a spirit deter- minately anti-evangelical; when he left it, so complete was the revolution which had been effected, that from that time forward none but evangelical clergymen were appointed by the city patrons. When Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow, there, and elsewhere over Scotland, there were many most devoted clergy- men of the Establishment who had given themselves up wholly to the ministry of the Word and to prayer, but there was not one in whose faith and practice week-day ministrations had the place or power which he assigned to them; when he left it he had exhibited such a model of fidelity, diligence, and activity in all departments of ministerial labour, as told finally upon the spirit and practice of the whole ministry of Scotland. When Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow, unnoticed thousands of the city population were sinking into ignorance, infidelity, and vice, and his eye was the first in this country to foresee to what a fearful magnitude that evil, if suffered to grow on unchecked, would rise; when he left it, his ministry in that city remained behind him, a permanent warn- ing to a nation which has been but slow to learn that the greatest of all questions, both for statesmen and for churchmen, is the condition of those untaught and degraded thousands who swarm now around the base of the social edifice, and whose brawny ami.-, may yet grasp its pillars to shake or to destroy. When Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow, in the literary circles of the Scottish metropolis a thinly disguised infidelity sat on the seats of greatest influence, and smiled or scoffed at a vital energetic faith in the great and distinctive truths of revelation, while widely over his native land the spirit of a frigid indifference to religion prevailed ; when he left it, the current of public sentiment had begun to set in a contrary direction; and although it took many years, and the labour of many other hands, to carry that healthful change onward to maturity, yet I believe it is not over-estimating it to say, that it was mainly by Dr. Chalmers' ministry in Glasgow — by his efforts at this period in the pulpit and through the press — that the tide of national opinion and sentiment was turned." Dr. Chalmers delivered his farewell sermon on November 9, 1S23, and on this occasion such was the crowding, not only of his affectionate flock, but admirers from every quarter, that the church, which was built to accommodate 1700 hearers, on this occa- sion contained twice that number. On the nth, a farewell dinner was given to him by 340 gentlemen; and at the close, when he rose to retire, all the guests stood up at once to honour his departure. "Gentle- men," said the doctor, overwhelmed by this List token, and turning repeatedly to even- quarter, "I cannot utter a hundredth part of what I feel — but I will do better — I will bear it all away." He was gone, and all felt as if the head of wisdom, and heart of cordial affection and Christian love, and tongue of commanding and persuasive eloquence, that hitherto had been the life and soul of Glasgow, had de- parted with him. If anything could have consoled him after such a parting, it must have been the re- ception that welcomed his arrival in St. Andrews, where he delivered his introductory lecture seven days after, the signal that his new career of action had begun. So closely had Dr. Chalmers adhered to his clerical duties in Glasgow to the last, that on his arrival in St. Andrews, his whole stock for the com- mencement of the course of moral philosophy con- sisted of only a few days' lectures. But nothing can more gratify an energetic mind that has fully tested its own powers, than the luxury of such a difficulty. It is no wonder, therefore, to find him thus writing 22 333 THOMAS CHALMERS. in the latter part of the session: "I shall be lectur- ing for six weeks yet, and am very nearly from hand- to-mouth with my preparations. I have the pro- spect of winning the course, though it will be by no more than the length of half a neck; but I like the employment vastly." Most of these lectures were afterwards published as they were written — a sure indication of the deeply concentrated power and matchless diligence with which he must have oc- cupied the winter months. It was no mere student auditory, also, for which he had exclusively to write during each day the lecture of the morrow; for the benches of the class-room were crowded by the in- tellectual from every quarter, who had repaired to St. Andrews to hear the doctor's eloquence upon a new theme. Even when the session was over, it brought no such holiday season as might have been expected ; for he was obliged to prepare for the great controversy upon the plurality question, which, after having undergone its course in presbytery and synod, was finally to be settled in the General Assembly, the opening of which was at hand. The point at issue, upon which the merits of the case now rested, was whether, in consistency with the laws of the church, Dr. Macfarlan could hold conjunctly the office of principal of the university of Glasgow and minister of the Inner High Church in the same city? On this occasion, Dr. Chalmers and Dr. Thomson spoke against the connection of offices with their wonted eloquence; but the case was so completely prejudged and settled, that no earthly eloquence could have availed, and the question in favour of the double admission was carried by a majority of twenty- six. In much of the proceedings of this Assembly Dr. Chalmers took a part, among which was the proposal of erecting a new Gaelic church in Glasgow, This measure he ably and successfully advocated, so that it passed by a large majority. Only a fortnight after the Assembly had closed he was in Glasgow, and more busy there if possible than ever, having engaged to preach for six consecutive Sabbaths in the chapel which, at his instigation, had been erected as an auxiliary to the parish church of St. John's. Here, however, he was not to rest; for, while thus occupied with his former flock, he received an urgent invitation to preach at Stockport, for the benefit of the Sabbath-school established there — a very dif- ferent school from those of Scotland for the same purpose, being built at a great expense, and capable of accommodating 4000 children. He complied; but on reaching England he was mortified, and even disgusted, to find, that the whole service was to be one of those half-religious half-theatrical exhibitions, so greatly in vogue in our own day, in which the one-half of the service seems intended to mock the other. He was to conduct the usual solemnities of prayer and preaching, and, so far, the whole affair was to partake of the religious character; but, in ad- dition to himself as principal performer, a hundred instrumental and vocal artists were engaged for the occasion, who were to rush in at the close of the pulpit ministrations with all the secularities of a con- cert or oratorio. The doctor was indignant, and remonstrated with the managers of the arrangement, but it was too late. All he could obtain was, that these services should be kept apart from each other, instead of being blended together, as had been origi- nally intended. Accordingly, he entered the pulpit, conducted the solemn services as he was wont, and preached to a congregation of 3500 auditors, after which he retired, and left the managers to their own devices; and before he had fairly escaped from the building, a tremendous volley of bassoons, flutes, violins, bass-viols, and serpents, burst upon his ear, and accelerated the speed of his departure. The collection upon this occasion amounted to ^400 — but might it not be said to have been won too dearly? The course of next winter at St. Andrews was commenced under the most favourable auspices, and more than double the number of students attended the moral philosophy class-room than had been wont in former sessions. Still true, moreover, to his old intellectual predilections, he also opened a separate class for political economy, which he found to be still more attractive to the students than the science of ethics. Nothing throughout could exceed the en- thusiasm of the pupils, and their affection for their amiable and distinguished preceptor, who was fre- quently as ready to walk with them and talk with them as to lecture to them. Thus the course of 1824-25 went onward to its close, after which he again commenced his duties as a member of the General Assembly, and entered with ardour into the subject of church plurality, upon which he spoke sometimes during the course of discussion. It was during this conflict that a frank generous avowal was made by Dr. Chalmers that electrified the whole meeting. On the second day of the debate, a mem- ber upon the opposite side quoted from an anony- mous pamphlet the declaration of its author's ex- perience, that "after the satisfactory discharge of his parish duties, a minister may enjoy five days in the week of uninterrupted leisure for the prosecution of any science in which his taste may dispose him to engage." When this was read, every eye was turned to Dr. Chalmers; it was the pamphlet he had pub- lished twenty years ago, when the duties of the ministerial office appeared to him in a very different light than they now did. He considered its resur- rection at such a period as a solemn call to humilia- tion and confession, and from this unpalatable duty he did not for a moment shrink. Rising in his place, he declared that the production was his own. "I now confess myself," he added, "to have been guilty of a heinous crime, and I now stand a repen- tant culprit before the bar of this venerable assembly." After stating the time and the occasion in which it originated, he went on in the following words: — "I was at that time, sir, more devoted to mathematics than to the literature of my profession; and, feeling grieved -and indignant at what I conceived an undue reflection on the abilities and education of our clergy, I came forward with that pamphlet, to rescue them from what I deemed an unmerited reproach, by maintaining that a devoted and exclusive attention to the study of mathematics was not dissonant to the proper habits of a clergyman. Alas ! sir, so I thought in my ignorance and pride. 1 have now no reserve in saying that the sentiment was wrong, and that, in the utterance of it, I penned what was most outrageously wrong. Strangely blinded that I was! What, sir, is the object of mathematical science? Magnitude and the proportions of magni- tude. But then, sir, I had forgotten two magnitudes — I thought not of the littleness of time — I recklessly thought not of the greatness of eternity." Hitherto the course of Dr. Chalmers at St. An- drews had been comfortable and tranquil; but this state was to continue no longer. It would have been strange, indeed, if one who so exclusively en- joyed the popularity of the town and its colleges, should have been permitted to enjoy it without an- noyance. In the first instance, too, his grievances arose from that very evil of church plurality of which he had at first been the tolerant advocate, and after- wards the uncompromising antagonist. A vacancy having occurred in the city parish of St. Leonards, THOMAS CHALMERS. 339 the charge was bestowed, not upon a free unencum- bered man, but upon one of the professors, whose college labours were enough for all his time and talent; and as he was unacceptable as a preacher, many 6f the students, among whom an unwonted earnestness had of late been awakened upon the im- portant subject of religion, were desirous of enjoying a more efficient ministry. But an old law of the college made it imperative that they should give their Sabbath attendance at the church of St. Leonards; and when they petitioned for liberty to select their own place for worship and religious instruction, their application was refused, although it was backed by that of their parents. It was natural that Dr. Chalmers should become their advocate; and almost equally natural that in requital he should be visited by the collective wrath of his brethren of the saiatus. They had decerned that the request of the students was unreasonable and mutinous; and turning upon the doctor himself, they represented him as one given up to new-fangled ideas of Christian liberty, and hostile to the interests of the Established Church. A still more vexatious subject of discussion arose from the appropriation of the college funds, the surplus of which, instead of being laid out to repair the dilapidated buildings, as had been intended, was annually divided among the professors after the cur- rent expenses of the classes had been defrayed. Dr. Chalmers thought this proceeding not only an illegal stretch of authority on the part of the professors, but also a perilous temptation; and on finding that they would not share in his scruples, he was obliged to adopt the only conscientious step that remained — he refused his share of the spoil during the five years of his continuance at St. Andrews. Thus the case continued until 1827, when the royal commission that had been appointed for the examination of the Scottish universities arrived at St. Andrews, and commenced their searching inquest. Dr. Chalmers, who hoped on this occasion that the evils of which he complained would be redressed, underwent in his turn a long course of examination, in which he fearlessly laid open the whole subject, and proposed the obvious remedy. But in this complaint he stood alone; the commissioners listened to his suggestions, and left the case as they found it. Another depart- ment of college reform, which had for some time been the object of his anxious solicitude, was passed over in the same manner. It concerned the neces- sary training of the pupils previous to their com- mencement of a college education. At our Scottish universities the students were admitted at a mere school-boy age, when they knew scarcely any Latin, and not a word of Greek; and thus the classical education of our colleges was such as would have been fitter for a mere whipping-school, in which these languages had to be commenced ab initio, than seats of learning in which such attainments were to be matured and perfected. To rectify this gross de- fect, the proposal of Dr. Chalmers suggested the erection of gymnasia attached to the colleges, where these youths should undergo a previous complete training in the mere mechanical parts of classical learning, and thus he fitted, on their entrance into college, for the highest departments of Creek and Roman scholarship. But here, also, his appeals were ineffectual; ami at the present day, and in the country of Buchanan and Melville, the university classes of Latin and Creek admit such pupils, and exhibit such defects, as would excite the contempt of an Eton or Westminster school-boy. It was well for Dr. Chalmers that amidst all this hostility and disappointment he had formed for him- self a satisfactorv source of consolation. At his arrival in St. Andrews, and even amidst the toil of preparation for the duties of his new office, he had longed for the relief that would be afforded by the communication of religious instruction; for in becom- ing a professor of science he had not ceased to be a minister of the gospel. As soon, therefore, as the bustle of the first session was ended, he threw him- self with alacrity into the lowly office of a Sabbath- school teacher. He went to work also in his own methodical fashion, by selecting a district of the town to which his labours were to be confined, visiting its families one by one, and inviting the children to join the class which he was about to form for meeting at his own house on the Sabbath evenings. And there, in the midst of these poor children, sat one of the most profound and eloquent of men — one at whose feet the great, the wise, and the accomplished had been proud to sit; while the striking picture is heightened by the fact, that even for these humble prelections and examinations, his questions were written out, and his explanations prepared as if he had been to confront the General Assembly or the British senate. In the hands of a talented artist would not such a subject furnish a true Christian counterpart to that of Marius sitting among the ruins of Carthage? At the third session this duty was ex- changed for one equally congenial, and still more im- portant, arising from the request of some of the parents of his college pupils, that he would take charge of the religious education of their sons by re- ceiving them into his house on the evenings of the Sabbath. With a desire so closely connected with his professional office through the week, he gladly complied, after having intrusted his Sabbath-school children to careful teachers who laboured under his direction. These student meetings at first were as- sembled around his fireside, in the character of a little family circle, and as such he wished it to con- tinue; but so greatly was the privilege valued, and so numerous were the applications for admission, that the circle gradually expanded into a class which his ample drawing-room could scarcely contain. These examples were not long in producing their proper fruits. The students of St. Andrews, animated by such a pattern, bestirred themselves in the division of the town into districts and the formation of Sabbath- schools; and in the course of their explorations for the purpose, they discovered, even in that ancient seat of learning and city of colleges, an amount of ignorance and religious indifference such as they had never suspected to be lying around them till now. Another and an equally natural direction into which the impulse was turned was that of missionary exer- tion; and on Dr. Chalmers having accepted the office of president of a missionary society, the students caught new ardour from the addresses which he delivered, and the reports he read to them at the meetings. The consequence was, that a missionary society was formed for the students themselves, in which a third of those belonging to the united colleges were s] enrolled. It was a wonderful change in St. Andrew s, so long the very Lethe of religious indifference and unconcern, and among its pupils, so famed among the other colleges of Scotland for riot, rceklesMiess, and dissipation. And the result showed that this was no fever-tit of passing emotion, but a permanent and substantial reality. Lor many of th"se sti who most distinguished themselves 1 y th missions were also distinguished as dikgent talented scholars, and attained the highest honours 1 : the uni- versity. Not a U-w of them now occupy our pulj its, and are among the most note.; irch lor zeal, eloquence, and ministerial diligence and fid And more than all, several of them were already 111 340 THOMAS CHALMERS. training for that high missionary office whose claims they so earnestly advocated, and are now to be found labouring in the good work in the four quarters of the world. Speaking of Dr. Chalmers at this period, one of the most accomplished of his pupils, and now the most distinguished of our missionaries, thus writes: — "Perhaps the most noticeable peculiarity connected with the whole of this transformative pro- cess was the indirect, rather than the direct, mode in which the effectuating influence was exerted. It did not result so much from any direct and formal exhor- tation on the part of Dr. Chalmers as from the general awakening and suggestive power of his lectures, the naked force of his own personal piety, and the spread- ing contagiousness of his own personal example. He carried about with him a better than talismanic virtue, by which all who came in contact with him were almost unconsciously influenced, moulded, and im- pelled to imitate. He did not formally assemble his students, and in so many set terms formally exhort them toconstitute themselves into missionary societies, open Sabbath-schools, commence prayer-meetings, and such like. No; in the course of his lectures he communicated something of his own life and warmth, and expounded principlesof which objects likethepre- ceding were some of the natural exponents and develop- ments. He then faithfully exemplified the principles propounded in his own special actings and general conduct. He was known to be a man of prayer; he was acknowledged to be a man of active benevolence. He was observed to be going about from house to house exhorting adults on the concerns of their sal- vation, and devoting his energies to the humble task of gathering around him a Sabbath-school. He was seen to be the sole reviver of an all but defunct mis- sionary society. All these, and other such like traits of character and conduct being carefully noted, how could they who intensely admired, revered, and loved the man, do less than endeavour, at however great a distance, to tread in his footsteps and imitate so noble a pattern?" Such was the tenor of his course in St. Andrews until he was about to be transferred into another and more important field. The first effort made for this removal was an offer on the part of government of the charge of the parish of St. Cuthbert's, Edinburgh, which had become vacant by the death of the Rev. Sir Henry Moncrieff. To succeed such a man, and hold such a clerical appointment, which was one of the best in Scotland, were no ordinary tempta- tions; but Dr. Chalmers was now fully persuaded that the highest, most sacred, and most efficient office in the church consisted in the training of a learned and pious ministry, and therefore he refused the offer, notwithstanding the very inferior emolu- ments of his present charge, and the annoyances with which it was surrounded. Another vacancy shortly afterwards occurred that was more in coinci- dence with his principles. This was the divinity chair of the university of Edinburgh, that had become vacant by the resignation of I )r. Ritchie; and to this charge he was unanimously elected by the magistrates and town-council of Edinburgh on the 31st October, 1827. The appointment on this occasion was cor- dially accepted, for it transferred him from the limited sphere of a county town to the capital, and from a professorship of ethics, the mere handmaid of theology, to that of theology itself. As he had not to com- mence his duties until the beginning of the next year's session, he had thus a considerable interval for preparation, which he employed to the uttermost. The subjects of lecturing, too, which comprised natural theology and the evidences of Christianity, had for years been his favourite study. His class- room, as soon as the course commenced, was inun- dated, not merely with regular students, but with clergymen of every church, and gentlemen of every literary or scientific profession, all eager to hear syste- matic theology propounded by such a teacher. All this was well; but when a similar torrent attempted to burst into his domestic retirement, and sweep away his opportunities of preparation, he was obliged to repel it with unwonted bluntness. "I have now," he said, "a written paper in my lobby, shown by my servant to all and sundry who are making mere calls of attention, which is just telling them, in a civil way, to go about their business. If anything will check intrusion, this at length must." During this session, also, Dr. Chalmers was not only fully occu- pied with his class, but with the great question of Catholic emancipation, which was now on the eve of a final decision. A public meeting was held in Edinburgh on the 14th of" March to petition in favour of the measure; and it was there that he advocated the bill in favour of emancipation in one of the most eloquent speeches he had ever uttered. The effect was tremendous, and at its close the whole assembly- started to their feet, waved their hats, and rent the air with deafening shouts of applause for several minutes. Even the masters and judges of eloquence who were present were similarly moved, and Lord Jeffrey declared it as his opinion that never had elo- quence produced a greater effect upon a popular as- sembly, and that he could not believe more had ever been done by the oratory of Demosthenes, Cicero, Burke, or Sheridan. After the college session had ended, Dr. Chalmers was not allowed to retire into his beloved seclusion. Indeed, his opinions were now of such weight with the public mind, and his services so valuable, that he was considered as a public property, and used ac- cordingly. It was for this cause that our statesmen who advocated Catholic emancipation were so earnest that he should give full publicity to his sentiments on the subject. When this duty was discharged, another awaited him: it was to repair to London and unfold his views on pauperism before a committee of the House of Commons, with reference to the proposal of introducing the English system of poor-laws into Ireland. During this visit to London he had the honour of being appointed, without any solicitation on his part, one of the chaplains of his majesty for Scotland. On returning home another visit to London was necessary, as one of the members of a deputation sent from the Church of Scotland to con- gratulate William IV. on his accession to the throne. It is seldom that our Scottish presbyters are to be found in kings' palaces, so that the ordeal of a royal presentation is generally sufficient to puzzle their wisest. Thus felt Dr. Chalmers upon the occasion; and in the amusing letters which he wrote home to his children he describes with full glee the difficulty he experienced from his cocked hat, and the buttons of his court dress. The questions put to him at this presentation were of solemn import, as issuing from kingly lips: "Do you reside constantly in Edin- burgh?" "How long do you remain in town?" He returned to the labours of his class-room and the preparation of his elaborate work on Political Economy, which had employed his thoughts for years, and was published at the beginning of 1832. This care of authorship in behalf of principles which he knew to be generally unpalatable, was further ag- gravated by the passing of the Reform Rill, to which he was decidedly hostile. After his work on Political Economy, which fared as he had foreseen, being roughly handled by the principal critics of the day, against whose favourite doctrines it militated, he THOMAS CHALMERS. 34 1 published his well-known Bridgwater treatise, On the Adaptation of External Nature to the Moral and Intellectual Constitution of Man. At the same period the cholera, which in its tremendous but erratic march had arrived in the island, and com- menced its havoc in Newcastle and Sunderland, pro- ceeded northward, and entered like a destroying angel within the gates of Edinburgh, which it filled with confusion and dismay. As its ravages went onward, the people became so maddened as to raise riots round the cholera hospitals, and treat the physicians, who attended on the patients at the risk of their own lives, with insult and violence. This exhibition was so afflictive to Dr. Chalmers, that he expressed his feelings upon the subject in the most impressive manner that a human being can possibly adopt — this was in public prayer, upon the national fast in St. George's Church, while he was earnestly beseeching that the plague might be stayed, and the people spared. "We pray, O Lord, in a more especial manner," he thus supplicated, "for those patriotic men whose duty calls them to a personal encounter with this calamity, and who, braving all the hazards of infection, may be said to stand between the living and the dead. Save them from the attacks of disease; save them from the obloquies of miscon- ception and prejudice; and may they have the bless- ings and acknowledgments of a grateful community to encourage them in their labours." On the same evening a lord of session requested that this portion of the prayer should be committed to writing, and made more public, in the hope of arresting that insane popular odium which had risen against the medical board. The prayer was soon printed and circulated through the city. In the year 1832 Dr. Chalmers was raised to the highest honour which the Church of Scotland can bestow, by being appointed moderator of the General Assembly. In this office he had the courage to oppose, and the good fortune to remove, an abuse that had grown upon the church until it had become a confirmed practice. It was now the use and wont of every commissioner to give public dinners, not only upon the week-days, but the Sabbaths of the Assembly's sitting, while the moderator sanctioned this practice by giving public breakfasts on the same day. In the eyes of the doctor this was a desecra- tion of the sacred day, and he stated his feelings to Lord Belhaven, the commissioner, on the subject. The appeal was so effectual that the practice was discontinued, and has never since been resumed. At this Assembly, also, a fearful note was sounded, predictive of a coming contest. It was upon the obnoxious subject of patronage, against which the popular voice of Scotland had protested so long and loudly, but in vain. Overtures from eight presby- teries and three synods were sent up to this Assemby, stating, "That whereas the practice of church courts for many years had reduced the call to a mere formality; and whereas this practice has a direct tendency to alienate the affections of the people of Scotland from the Established Church; it is over- tured, that such measures as may be deemed necessary be adopted, in order to restore the call to its con- stitutional efficiency." An animated debate was the consequence, and at last the motion of Principal Macfarlan, "that the Assembly judge it unnecessary and inexpedient to adopt the measures recommended in the overtures now before them," was carried by a majority of forty-two. Erom the office which he held, Dr. Chalmers could only be a presiding onlooker of the debate; but in the Assembly of next year, when the subject was resumed, he had an open arena before him, which he was not slow to occupy. On this occasion, the eleven overtures of the preced- ing year had swelled into forty-five, a growth that indicated the public feeling with unmistakable sig- nificance. The two principal speakers in the discus- sion that followed were Dr. Chalmers and Dr. Cook, and each tendered his motion before the Assembly. That of Dr. Chalmers was to the effect, that efficiency should be given to the call, by declaring the dissent of a majority of the male heads of families in a parish, with or without the assignment of reasons, should be sufficient to set aside the presentee, unless these reasons were founded in malicious combina- tion, or manifestly incorrect as to his ministerial gifts and qualifications. The counter-motion of Dr. Cook was, that while it is competent for the heads of families to give in to the presbytery objections of whatever nature against the presentee, the presbytery shall consider these objections, and if they find them unfounded, shall proceed to the settlement. This was carried only by a majority of twelve, and mainly, also, by the strength of the eldership, as a majority of twenty ministers was in favour of the motion of Dr. Chalmers. It was easy to see, however, in what direction the tide had set, and with what force and volume it would go onward. At the next Assembly a full trial was to be made that should be conclusive upon the point at issue. Dr. Chalmers on this occasion was not a member, but his motion of the preceding year was again brought before the Assembly by Lord Moncrieff, in the form of an "Overture and Interim Act on Calls," and expressed as follows: — "The General Assembly declare, that it is a fundamental law of the church, that no pastor shall be intruded into any congregation contrary to the will of the people; and, in order that the prin- ciple may be carried into full effect, the General Assembly, with the consent of a majority of the presbyteries of this church, do declare, enact, and ordain, that it shall be an instruction to presbyteries that if, at the moderating in a call to a vacant pastoral charge, the major part of the male heads of families, members of the vacant congregation, and in full communion with the church, shall disapprove of the person in whose favour the call is proposed to be moderated in, such disapproval shall be deemed sufficient ground for the presbytery rejecting such person, and that he shall be rejected accordingly, and due notice thereof forthwith given to all con- cerned; but that if the major part of the said heads of families shall not disapprove of such person to be their pastor, the presbytery shall proceed with the settlement according to the rules of the church: And further declare, that no person shall be held to be entitled to disapprove as aforesaid, who shall refuse, if required, solemnly to declare, in presence of the presbytery that he is actuated by no factious or malicious motive, but solely by a conscientious regard to the spiritual interests of himself or the congregation." Such was the well-known measure called the Veto, which, being carried by a majority of forty-six, became part of the law of the Church of Scotland. Considering the previous domination of patronage, it was regarded with much com] lacency. a^ a valuable boon to public feeling, and a great step in advance toward-, a thorough reformation in the church. Hut, unfortunately, it \va- only a cm- promise with an evil that should have been utterly removed; a mere religious half-mea>ure, that in the end was certain to dwindle into a nullity; and 1 >r. Chalmers lived long enough to o nll» its insuffi- ciency and witness its downfall. In 'the case of those honoured individuals who have "greatness thrust upon them." the imposition generally finds them at a season not only when they- 342 THOMAS CHALMERS. are least expectant of such distinctions, but appar- ently the furthest removed from all chance of obtain- ing them. Such all along had been the case with Chalmers. Fame had found him in the obscure parish of Kilmany, and there proclaimed him one of the foremost of pulpit orators. It had followed him into the murky wynds and narrow closes of the Trongate and Saltmarket of Glasgow; and there, while he was employed in devising means for the amelioration of poverty through parochial agency, it had lauded him in the senate and among statesmen as an able financier and political economist. Instead of seeking, he had been sought, by that high celebrity which seems to have pursued him only the more intently by how much he endeavoured to escape it. And now, after he had been so earnestly employed in endeavouring to restore the old Scottish ecclesi- astical regime and puritan spirit of the seventeenth century, so loathed by the learned, the fashionable, and the free-thinking of the nineteenth — new honours, and these from the most unlikely sources, were showered upon him in full profusion. In 1834 he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society of Edin- burgh, and in the year following a vice-president. In the beginning of 1834 he was elected a corres- ponding member of the Royal Institute of France; and in the year 1835, while upon a visit to Oxford for the recovery of his health, impaired by the fatigues he had undergone in London in the dis- charge of his public duties, the university of Oxford in full theatre invested him witli the degree of Doctor of Laws. The academy of Voltaire and the uni- versity of Laud combining to do honour to a modern Scottish Covenanter! — never before had such ex- tremes met ! This triumph, however, needed a slave behind the chariot, and such a remembrancer was not wanting to the occasion. During his stay in London he had been negotiating for the establish- ment of a permanent government salary to the chair of theology in the university of Edinburgh, for at his entrance, in 1828, the revenues of its professor- ship, in consequence of the abolition of pluralities, amounted to not more than ,£196 per annum. It was impossible, upon such a pittance, to maintain the proper dignity of the office, and rear a numerous family; and, although the town-council endeavoured to supplement the defect by the establishment of fees to be paid by the students, this remedy was found so scanty and precarious, that Dr. Chalmers could not calculate upon more than ^300 a year, while the necessary expenditure of such an office could not be comprised within ^"800. But government at the time was labouring under one of those periodical fits of economy in which it generally looks to the pennies, in the belief that the pounds can take care of themselves, and therefore the earnest appeals of Dr. Chalmers upon the importance of such a pro- fessorship, and the necessity of endowing it, were ineffectual. Little salaries were to be cut down, and small applicants withheld, to convince the sceptical public that its funds were managed with strict economy. To his office of professor, indeed, that of one of the Scottish royal chaplaincies had been added; but this was little more than an honorary title, as its salary was only ,£50 per annum. Thus, at the very height of his fame, Dr. Chalmers was obliged to bethink himself of such humble subjects as weekly household bills, and the ways and means of meeting them, and with the heavy pressure of duties that had gathered upon him to take refuge in the resources of author- ship. A new and cheap edition of his works, in quarterly volumes, was therefore commenced in 1836. It was no mere republication of old matter, however, which he thus presented to the public, and this he was anxious should be generally understood. "It so happens," he thus writes to the Rev. Mr. Cunningham of Harrow, "that the great majority of my five first volumes will be altogether new; and that of the two first already published, and which finishes my views on natural theology, the Bridg- water Treatise, is merely a fragment of the whole. Now, my request is, that you will draw the attention of any of the London reviewers to the new matter of my works." To such necessities the most distin- guished man in Scotland, and the holder of its most important professorship, was reduced, because our government would not endow his office with a modicum of that liberality which it extended to a sinecure forest-ranger, or even a captain of beef- eaters. These however were not the greatest of Dr. Chalmers' difficulties and cares. The important subject of church extension, that most clamant of our country's wants, annihilated all those that were exclusively personal, and after years of earnest ad- vocacy a bright prospect began to dawn that this want would be satisfied. The king's speech in 1835 recommended the measure; the parliamentary leaders of the Conservative party were earnest in supporting it; while the Earl of Aberdeen in the House of Lords, and Sir Robert Peel in that of the Commons, were the most urgent advocates for the extension of the church in Scotland. But very different was the mood of the Whig ministry, and the premier, Lord Melbourne, who succeeded; and all that could be obtained from them was a commission of inquiry. It was the vague "I'll see to it," which in common life promises nothing, and usually accomplishes as little. Thus at least felt Dr. Chalmers, notwith- standing the assurances of Lord John Russell that the commissioners should be obliged to report pro- gress from time to time, so that the house might apply the remedy to each evil successively as it was detected. It was no vague fear; for although the first report of the commissioners was to be returned in six months, thrice that period elapsed before the duty was implemented. This report, however, estab- lished a momentous fact; it was, that nearly one- third of the whole population of Edinburgh, to which their eighteen months' inquiry had been exclusively confined, were living in utter neglect of religious ordinances. To atone for such delay, as well as to remedy such an evil, it was time for the parlia- ment to be up and doing. But parliament thought it was better to wait — to wait until they got farther intelligence. This intelligence at last came in two subsequent reports, by which it appeared that the deficiency of church accommodation and church attendance was still worse in Glasgow than in Edin- burgh. And now, at least, was the time for action, after four years of protracted inquiry; but the remedy which parliament proposed consisted of little more than a few unmeaning words. The Highlands and the country parishes were to be aided from sources that were not available for the purpose, while the large towns were to be left in their former condition. In short, the Church of Scotland was to wait, and wait, and still to wait, while everything was to be expected, and nothing definite insured. A deputa- tion from the Church Extension Committee Mas unavoidable under such circumstances of sickening procrastination and heartless disappointment; but the government that had anticipated such an advent, specified that Dr. Chalmers should not be one of the deputies. It was not convenient that the rulers of the hour should encounter the master-spirit of the age. Accordingly, the deputation of the Church of Scotland, minus Dr. Chalmers, waited upon Lord THOMAS CHALMERS. 343 Melbourne, and represented what a dereliction the government had committed in abandoning the re- ligious provision of the large towns of Scotland, by which the principle of religious establishment itself was virtually abandoned. But they talked to a statesman whose only line of policy was to remember nothing about the past, and fear nothing for the future. Britain would last during his own day at least, and posterity might be left to take care of itself! When he was told, therefore that this abandonment of the Scottish cities was an abandon- ment of church establishment, and would inflict a fatal wound upon the Church of Scotland, this free-and-easy premier replied to the members of the deputation: "That, gentlemen, is your infer- ence: you may not be the better for our plan; but, hang it! you surely cannot be worse;" and with this elegant sentence they were bowed off from the ministerial audience. It was well, however, that Dr. Chalmers, and those whom he influenced, had not entirely leaned, in such a vital question, upon the reed of court favour and government support. He had already learned, although with some reluctance, that most necessary scriptural caveat for a minister of the Church of Scotland, "Put not your trust in princes;" so that from the commencement of this treaty between the church and the state, he had turned his attention to the public at large as the source from which his expectations were to be real- ized. He therefore obtained the sanction of the General Assembly, in 1836, to form a sub-committee on church extension, for the purpose of organizing a plan of meetings over the whole country for the erec- tion of new churches. This was applying to the fountain-head, let the conduits be closed as they might; and the result more than answered his expec- tations. In the year 183S he was enabled to state to the General Assembly, that these two years of organized labour, combined with the two years of desultory effort that had preceded — four years in all — had produced nearly ^200,000, out of which nearly 200 churches had been erected. Well might he call this, in announcing the fact, "an amount and continuance of pecuniary support altogether without a precedent in the history of Christian beneficence in this part of the British empire." To this he added a hope — but how differently fulfilled from the way he expected! "At the glorious era of the church's reformation," he said, "it was the un- wearied support of the people which, under God, finally brought her efforts to a triumphant issue. In this era of her extension — an era as broadly marked and as emphatically presented to the notice of the ecclesiastical historian as any which the church is wont to consider as instances of signal revival and divine interposition — the support of the people will not be wanting, but by their devoted exertions, and willing sacrifices, and ardent prayers, they will testify how much they love the house where their fathers worshipped; how much they reverence their Saviour's command, that the very poorest of their brethren shall have the gospel preached to them." While the indifference of government upon the subject of church extension was thus felt in Scotland, a calamity of a different character was equally im- pending over the churches both of Scotland and England — a calamity that threatened nothing less than to disestablish them, and throw them upon the voluntary support of the public at large. Such was a part of the effects of the Reform Bill. It brought forward the Dissenters into place and power, and gave them a vantage-ground for their hostility to all ecclesiastical establishments; and so well did they use this opportunity, that the separation of church and state promised to be an event of no distant oc- currence. Even Wellington himself, whose practised eye saw the gathering for the campaign, and whose stout heart was not apt to be alarmed at bugbears, thus expressed his sentiments on the occasion: "People talk of the war in Spain, and the Canada question, but all that is of little moment. The real question is, church or no church; and the majority of the House of Commons — a small majority, it is true, but still a majority — are practically against it." This majority, too, had already commenced its operations with the Church of Ireland, the number of whose bishops was reduced, and a large amount of whose endowments it was proposed to alienate to other purposes than the support of religion. Thus was that war begun which has continued from year to year, growing at each step in violence and pertina- city, and threatening the final eversion of the two religious establishments of Great Britain. The friends of the Establishment principle were equally alert in its defence; and among other institutions, a Christian Influence Society was formed, to vindicate the neces- sity and duty of state support to the national religion as embodied in the church of the majority of the people. It occurred to this society that their cause could be best supported by popular appeal, on the part of a bold, zealous, eloquent advocate — one who had already procured the right to speak upon such a subject, and to whom all might confidently listen. And where could they find such an ad- vocate? All were at one in the answer, and Dr. Chalmers was in consequence requested to give a course of public lectures in London upon the subject of church establishments, to which he assented. Thus mysteriously was he led by a way which he knew not to a termination which he had not anti- cipated. He was to raise his eloquent voice for the last time in behalf of a cause which he was soon after to leave for ever — and to leave only because a higher, holier, and more imperative duty commanded his departure. This visit of Dr. Chalmers to London was made in the spring of 1838. He took with him a course of lectures on which he had bestowed the utmost pains; and the first, which he delivered on the 25th of April, was attended by the most distinguished in rank and talent, who admired the lecturer as well as sympathized in his subject. The other discourses followed successively, and seldom has great London been stirred from its mighty depths as upon these occasions. Peers, prelates, statesmen, literati, the powerful, the noble, the rich, the learned, all hurried pell-mell into the passages, or were crowded in one living heap in the ample hall; and all eyes were turned upon the homely-looking elderly man who sat at the head, before a little table, at times looking as if buried in a dream, and at others, lifting up his eve- nt the gathering and advancing tide, composed of England s noblest and best, as if he wondered what this unwonted stir could mean. How had such a man collected such a concourse? That was shown, when, after having uttered a few sentences, with a pronunciation which even his om 11 countrymen deemed uncouth, he warmed with his subject, until his thoughts seemed to be clothed with thunder; and starting to his feet, the whole assembly ro-e with him as one man, passed into all his leel.ngs, and moved with his every impulse, as ii : : the time they had implicitly resigned their identity int > his i and were coi 1 ut ; art- individual in whose utterance they were and swallowed up. "The ( lecture," says one writer, "wa> graced by the ] rt ne pre- lates of the Church of Mnglai 344 THOMAS CHALMERS. been rising and swelling each succeeding day, now burst all bounds. Carried away by the impassioned utterance of the speaker, long ere the close of some of his finest passages was reached, the voice of the lecturer was drowned in the applause, the audience rising from their seats, waving their hats above their heads, and breaking out into tumultuous approba- tion." "Nothing was more striking, however," writes another, "amidst all this excitement, than the child- like humility of the great man himself. All the flattery seemed to produce no effect whatever on him; his mind was entirely absorbed in his great object; and the same kind, playful, and truly Christian spirit, that so endeared him to us all, was every- where apparent in his conduct. ... I had heard Dr. Chalmers on many great occasions, but probably his London lectures afforded the most re- markable illustrations of his extraordinary power, and must be ranked amongst the most signal triumphs of oratory in any age." Having thus delivered such a solemn and public testimony in behalf of church establishments, Dr. Chalmers now resolved to visit France, a duty which he conceived he owed to the country, as he had been elected a member of its far-famed Royal In- stitute. He accordingly went from England to Paris in the earlier part of June, 1838, accompanied by his wife and two daughters. From the journal which he kept on the occasion, much interesting information may be gleaned of his views on the state of France and French society, while throughout it is evident that he carried with him what our English tourists too seldom transport into that country — the willing- ness to recognize and readiness to acknowledge what- ever superiority it possesses over our own. He thus found that Paris was something better than a city of profligates, and France than a land of infidels. In that gay metropolis his exclamation is, "How much more still and leisurely everything moves here than in London ! ... It is more a city of loungers; and life moves on at a more rational pace." On another occasion he declared Paris "better than London, in not being a place of extreme and high-pressure work in all the departments of industry. More favourable to intellect, to man in his loftier capacities, to all the better and higher purposes of our nature." It was not wonderful, therefore, that with such frankness and warmth of heart he was soon at one with the choicest of that literary and intellectual society with which the city at all times abounds, and delighted with its buildings, its public walks, and museums of science and art. Dr. Chalmers made no pretension to taste in the fine arts, and its critical phraseology he detested as cant and jargon ; but it was well known by his friends that he had a love of fine statues and pictures, and an innate natural perception of their beauties, that might well have put those who prate learnedly about Raffaele and Titian to the blush. This will at once be apparent in his notices of the Louvre, where his remarks are full of life and truthful- ness: "Struck with the picture of one of Bonaparte's battles in his retreat from Moskow. The expression of Napoleon very striking — as if solemnized by the greatness of the coming disaster, yet with an air of full intelligence, and serenity, and majesty, and a deep mournful expression withal. The long gallery of the Louvre superb; impressed at once with the superiority of its pictures. Very much interested in the Flemish pictures, of which there were some very admirable ones by David Teniers. I am fond of Rembrandt's portraits; and was much pleased in recognizing the characteristics of Rubens, Poussin, and Claude Lorrain. I also remarked that in most of the Italian schools, with the exception of the Venetian, there was a total want of shading off; yet the separate figures, though not harmonized with the back- ground, very striking in themselves. The statuary of painting perhaps expresses the style of the Roman and other such schools. There is a quadrangle recently attached to the east end of the gallery, filled with the models of towns, ships, and machinery; the towns very instructive. But the most interesting part of this department is the Spanish pictures, in all of which the strong emotions are most powerfully expressed. There is quite a stamp of national pecu- liarity in these works. The walls which contain them seem all alive with the passions and thoughts of living men." Thus far Dr. Chalmers in a new character, as a critic in painting — not of the schools, however, but of nature's own teaching. After a short residence of three weeks in Paris, during which he noticed everything with a benevolent and observant eye, and read before the Institute a lecture of initiation, having for its title, the "Distinction, both in Principle and Effect, between a Legal Charity for the Relief of Indigence, and a Legal Charity for the Relief of Disease," Dr. Chalmers set off on a short tour through some of the inland pro- vinces, which he was induced to make by the per- suasion of his English friends. On finishing it, he characterized it as a most interesting journey, in which his hopes for the futurity of France had been materially improved. He then returned to Edin- burgh, where sterner events awaited his arrival. The first task of Dr. Chalmers, on returning home, was the augmentation of the church extension fund. No hope was now to be derived from government grants, and therefore, while old age was stealing upon him, and the weariness of a life of toil demand- ing cessation and repose, he felt as if the struggle had commenced anew, and must be encountered over again. The extension scheme was his favourite enterprise, in which all his energies for years had been embarked; and could he leave it now in its hour of need, more especially after such a hopeful commencement ? He therefore began an arduous tour for the purpose on the 1 8th of August, 1839. He commenced with the south-western districts of Scotland, in the course of which he visited and ad- dressed ten presbyteries successively. And, be it observed, too, that this prince of orators had a diffi- culty in his task to encounter which only an orator can fully appreciate. Hitherto his addresses to public meetings had been carefully studied and com- posed, so that to extemporaneous haranguing on such occasions he had been an utter stranger. But now that he must move rapidly from place to place, and adapt himself to every kind of meeting, and be ready for every sudden emergency of opposition or cavil, he felt that the aids of the study must be abandoned — that he must be ready on every point, and at every moment — that, in short, all his former habits of oratory must be abandoned, and a new power acquired, and that too, at the age of sixty, when old habits are confirmed, and the mind has lost its flexibility. But even this difficulty he met and surmounted; his ardour in the work beat down every obstacle, and bore him irresistibly onward. "It is true," he said, "that it were better if we lived in times when a calm and sustained argumentation from the press would have carried the influential minds of the community; but, as it is, one must accommodate his doings to the circumstances of the age." After the south-western districts had been visited, he made another tour, in which he visited Dundee, Perth, Stirling, and Dunfermline; and a third, that comprised the towns of Brechin, Mon- trose, Arbroath, and Aberdeen. A fourth, which THOMAS CHALMERS. 345 he called his great northern tour, led him through a considerable part of the Highlands, where he addressed many meetings, and endeavoured every- where to stir up the people to a due sense of the im- portance of religious ordinances. But it is melan- choly to find that labours so great ended, upon the whole, in disappointment. At the commencement Dr. Chalmers had confidently expected to raise j£ioo,ooo for the erection of a hundred new churches, and in this expectation he was fully justified by the success of his previous efforts. But ,£40,000 was the utmost that was realized by all this extraordi- nary toil and travel. Still, however, much had been done during his seven years of labour in the cause of church extension; for in 1841, when he demitted his office as convener of the committee, 220 churches, at a cost of more than £300,000, had been added to the Establishment. He had thus made an extensive trial of voluntaryism, and obtained full experience of its capabilities and defects, of which the following was his recorded opinion: — "While he rejoices in the experimental confirmation which the history of these few years has afforded him of the resources and the capabilities of the voluntary system, to which, as hitherto unfostered by the paternal care of government, the scheme of church extension is in- debted for all its progress, it still remains his un- shaken conviction of that system notwithstanding, that it should only be resorted to as a supplement, and never but in times when the powers of infidelity and intolerance are linked together in hostile com- bination against the sacred prerogatives of the church, should it once be thought of as a substitute for a national establishment of Christianity. In days of darkness and disquietude it may open a temporary re- source, whether for a virtuous secession or an ejected church to fall back upon; but a far more glorious consummation is, when the state puts forth its hand to sustain but not to subjugate the church, and the two, bent on moral conquests alone, walk together as fellow-helpers towards the achievement of that great pacific triumph — the Christian education of the people." The indifferent success with which the latter part of the labours of Dr. Chalmers in behalf of church extension was followed, could be but too easily ex- plained. The Church of Scotland had now entered the depths of her trial, and while the issue was un- certain, the public mind was in that state of suspense under which time seems to stand still, and all action is at a pause. The urgent demand that was pressed upon society was for money to erect more places of worship; but what the while did the state mean to do in tin's important matter? Would it take the whole responsibility upon itself, or merely supple- ment the liberality of the people? And if the latter, then to what amount would it give aid, and upon what terms? When a cautious benevolence is thus posed, it too often ruminates, until the hour of action has knelled its departure. Such was the condition to which Scotland was now reduced. In tracing its causes, we must revert to the last five years of our narrative, and those important ecclesiastical move- ments with which Hr. Chalmers was so closely im- plicated. In obtaining the veto law, Dr. Chalmers was far from regarding it either as a satisfactory or a final measure. Instead of being an ecclesiastical reform, it was but a half-way concession, in which church and state would be liable to much unpleasant col- lision. This result must sooner or later be the case, and in such a shock the weaker would be driven to the wall. This Dr. Chalmers foresaw, and it re- quired no extraordinary sagacity to foretell which of these causes would prove the weaker. And yet the veto, like most great changes, however defective, worked well at the commencement. So remarkably had the evangelistic spirit been revived by it, that in 1839 the revenue collected for Christian enterprise was fourteeen times greater than it had been five years previous. Another significant fact of its use- fulness was, that, notwithstanding the new power it conferred upon the people, that power had been enjoyed with such moderation, that during these five years it had been exercised only in ten cases out of one hundred and fifty clerical settlements. All this, however, was of no avail to save it from ruin, and even the beginning of its short-lived existence gave promise how soon and how fatally it would termi- nate. The first act of hostility to the veto law occurred only a few months after it had passed. The parish church of Auchterarder had become vacant, and the Earl of Kinnoul, who was patron, made a presenta- tion of the living in favour of Mr. Robert Young, a licentiate. But the assent of the people was also necessary, and after Mr. Young had preached two successive Sabbaths in the pulpit of Auchterarder, that the parishioners might test his qualification-, a day was appointed for their coming forward to moderate in the call, by signing their acceptance. Not more, however, than two heads of families, and his lordship's factor, a non-resident, out of a parish of 3000 souls, gave their subscription. As this was no call at all, it was necessary to obtain a positive dissent, and on the opportunity being given for the heads of families, being communicants, to sign their rejection, 2S7, out of 300 members, subscribed their refusal to have the presentee for their minister. Thus Mr. Young was clearly and most expressly vetoed, and his presentation should, according to the law, have been instantly cancelled; but, instead of submitting, he appealed against the refusal of the parish, in the first instance to the presbytery, and afterwards to the synod; and on his appeal being rejected successively by both courts, he finally carried it, not to the General Assembly, for ultimate adjudi- cation, as he was bound to do, but to the Court of Session, where it was to be reduced to a civil ques- tion, and nothing more. In this way admission to the holy office of the ministry and the cure of souls was to be as secular a question as the granting of a publican's license, or the establishment of a highway toll, and to be settled by the same tribunal ! After much fluctuation and delay that occurred during the trial of this singular case, a final decision was pro- nounced by the Court of Session in February, 1838, by which the presbytery of Auchterarder was de- clared to have acted illegally, and in viola'J their duty, in rejecting Mr. Young solely on acc< unt of the dissent of the parish, without any rcas : s assigned for it. But what should the presbytery do or suffer in consequence'/ This was not declared; for the court, having advanced so far as to fu veto law illegal, did not dare to issxie a positive command to the church to throw it asi : . the presentee to the ministerial office. I he they could do was to adjudge th ■ ties 1 i the benefice to Mr. Young, wh . appoint to its spiritual duties whatever \ readier was found fittest for the pur; ose. Still, h >we-ver, if not unchurched, she was disestal ' a de- cision; and, for the purpose ot averting tli astrous termination, the case was a] in the Court of Session to the House of I.i rds. I'ut there the sentence of the Scottish tribunal, instead ' repealed, was confirmed and established into law. Thus patronage was replaced in all its auth< rity, and 34 6 THOMAS CHALMERS. the veto made a dead letter. This judgment, so important to the future history of the Church of Scotland, was delivered by the House of Lords on May 3, 1S39. On the 16th the General Assembly met, and Dr. Chalmers, who had hitherto seldom taken a part in the proceedings of church courts, now made anxious preparation for the important crisis. The veto, he saw, existed no longer; but was the choice of the people to perish also? The important discussion commenced by Dr. Cook pre- senting a motion, to the effect that the Assembly should hold the veto law as abrogated, and proceed as if it never had passed. To this Dr. Chalmers presented a counter-motion, consisting of three parts. The first acknowledged the right of the civil autho- rity over the temporalities of the living of Auchter- arder, and acquiesced in their loss ; the second expressed the resolution not to abandon the prin- ciple of non-intrusion; and the third proposed the formation of a committee to confer with government, for the prevention of any further collision between the ecclesiastical and civil authorities. A heart- stirring speech of three hours followed, in which he advocated each point of his motion with such irre- sistible eloquence, that it was carried by a majority of forty-nine. In this speech the following com- parison between the two national churches was not only fitted to send a patriotic thrill through every Scottish heart, but to enlighten those English under- standings that could not comprehend the causes of a national commotion, in which they, nevertheless, found themselves somehow most deeply implicated : — " Let me now, instead of looking forward into consequences, give some idea to the Assembly of the extent of that degradation and helplessness which, if we do submit to this decision of the House of Lords, have been actually and already inflicted upon us — a degradation to which the Church of England, pro- fessing the king to be their head, never would sub- mit; and to which the Church of Scotland, professing the Lord Jesus Christ to be their head, never can. You know that, by the practice of our church, the induction and the ordination go together. We regard both as spiritual acts ; but, by the practice of the Church of England, the two are separated in point of time from each other; and as they look only upon the ordination as spiritual, this lays them open to such civil mandates and civil interdicts as we have never been accustomed to receive in the questions which arise on the subject of induction into parishes. But ask any English ecclesiastic whether the bishop would receive an order, from any civil court what- ever, on the matter of ordination; and the instant, the universal reply is, that he would not. In other words, we should be degraded far beneath the level of the sister church if we remain in connection with the state, and submit to this new ordinance, or, if you will, to this new interpretation of their old ordinances." After quoting a case in point, in which a presentee in the Church of England had appealed, but in vain, to the royal authority against the prelate who refused to ordain him, Dr. Chalmers continued: — -"To what position, then, are we brought if we give in to the opposite motion, and proceed in consequence to the ordination of Mr. Young? To such a position as the bishops of Eng- land, with all the Erastianism which has been charged, and to a great degree, I think, falsely charged, upon that establishment, never, never would consent to occupy. Many of them would go to the prison and the death rather than submit to such an invasion on the functions of the sacred office. We read of an old imprisonment of bishops, which led to the greatest and most glorious political eman- cipation that ever took place in the history of Eng- land. Let us not be mistaken. Should the emanci- pation of our church require it, there is the same strength of high and holy determination in this our land. There are materials here, too, for upholding the contest between principle and power, and enough of the blood and spirit of the olden time for sustain- ing that holy warfare, where, as in former days, the inflictions of the one party were met with a patience and determination invincible in the sufferings of the other." In consequence of the recommendation embodied in his motion, a committee was appointed for con- ferring with government, of which Dr. Chalmers was convener. It was now resolved that they should re- pair to London upon their important mission, and thither he accompanied them in the beginning of July. After much negotiation with the leaders of the different parties, the members of committee re- turned to Edinburgh; and in the report which Dr. Chalmers gave of their proceedings he expressed his opinion that matters looked more hopeful than ever. Important concessions were to be made to the church on the part of government, and a measure was to be devised and drawn up to that effect. "With such helps and encouragement on our side," the report concluded, "let but the adherents of this cause re- main firm and united in principle among themselves, and with the favour of an approving God, any further contest will be given up as unavailing, when, let us fondly hope, all the feelings of party, whether of triumph on one side because of victory, or of humili- ation on the other side because of defeat, shall be merged and forgotten in the desires of a common pa- triotism, to the reassurance of all who are the friends of our establishment, to the utter confusion of those • enemies who watch for our halting, and would rejoice in our overthrow." It was indeed full time that such a hope should dawn upon those who loved the real interests of our church. For the case of Auchterarder did not stand alone ; on the contrary, it was only the first signal of a systematic warfare which patronage was about to wage against the rights of the people; and the ex- ample of appeal to the civil authority was but too readily followed in those cases that succeeded. And first came that of Lethendy, and afterwards of Mar- noch, in which the civil authority was invoked by vetoed presentees; while in the last of these conflicts the presbytery of Strathbogie, to which Marnoch belonged, complicated the difficulties of the question by adopting the cause of the rejected licentiate, and setting the authority of the church at defiance. The rebellious ministers were suspended from office; and they, in turn, relying upon the protection of the civil power, served an interdict upon those clergymen who, at the appointment of the General Assembly, should attempt to officiate in their pulpits, or even in their parishes. The Court of Session complied so far as to exclude the Assembly's ministers from preaching in the churches, churchyards, and school- rooms of the suspended, so that they were obliged to preach in barns or in the open air; but at last, when even this liberty was complained of by the silenced recusants, the civil court agreed to the whole amount of their petition. It was such a sentence, issuing from mere jurisconsults and Edinburgh lawyers, as was sometimes hazarded in the most tyrranical sea- sons of the dark ages, when a ghostly conclave of pope, cardinals, and prince-prelates laid a whole dis- trict under the ban of an interdict for the offence of its ruler, and deprived its people of the rites of the church until complete atonement had been paid. Such was the state of matters when the Assembly's com- THOMAS CHALMERS. 347 mission met on the 4th of March, and resolved to re- sist this monstrous usurpation. On this occasion Dr. Chalmers spoke with his wonted energy; and after representing the enormity of the offence, and the necessity of resisting it, he thus concluded — "Be it known, then, unto all men, that we shall not retract one single footstep — we shall make no sub- mission to the Court of Session — and that not because of the disgrace, but because of the gross and grievous dereliction of principle that we should thereby incur. They may force the ejection of us from our places: they shall never, never force us to the surrender of our principles; and if that honourable court shall again so far mistake their functions as to repeat or renew the inroads they have already made, we trust they will ever meet with the same reception they have already gotten — to whom we shall give place by subj action, no, not for an hour; no, not by an hair-breadth." The only earthly hope of the Church of Scotland was now invested in the parliament. The former had distinctly announced the terms on which it would maintain its connection with the state, while the lead- ing men of the latter had held out such expectations of redress as filled the hearts of Dr. Chalmers and his friends with confidence. It was now full time to make the trial. A deputation was accordingly sent to London; but, after mountains of promises and months of delay, by which expectation was alternately elevated and crushed, nothing better was produced than Lord Aberdeen's bill. By this a reclaiming parish were not only to state their objections, but the grounds and reasons on which they were founded; while the presbytery, in taking cognizance of these objections, were to admit them only when personal to fhe presentee, established on sufficient grounds, and adequate for his rejection. Thus, a country parish — a rustic congregation — were to analyze their religious impressions, embody them in distinct form, and table them before a learned and formidable tri- bunal, in rejecting the minister imposed upon them; while, in weighing these nice objections, and ascer- taining their specific gravity, every country minister was to be a Duns Scotus or Thomas Aquinas, if not a very Daniel come to judgment. We suspect that the members of the learned House of Lords, and even of the Commons to boot, would have been sorely puzzled had such a case been their own, whether in the character of judges or appellants. It was in vain that Dr. Chalmers remonstrated by letter with the originator of this strange measure; the bill, the whole bill, and nothing but the bill, was now the ultimatum; and, as might be expected, it was rejected in the General Assembly by a majority of nearly two to one. The unfortunate bill was in consequence withdrawn, while its disappointed author characterized Dr. Chalmers, in the House of Lords, as "a reverend gentleman, a great leader in the Assembly, who, having brought the church into a state of jeopardy and peril, had left it to find its way out of the diffi- culty as well as it could." This was not the only instance in which the doctor and his coadjutor's were thus calumniated from the same quarter, so that he was obliged to publish a pamphlet on the princi- ples of the church question, and a reply to the charges with which its advocates had been vilified. "It is as a blow struck,'* lie wrote, "at the corner-stone, when the moral integrity of clergymen is assailed; and when, not in any secret or obscure whispering- place, but on the very house-tops of the nation, we behold, and without a single expression of remon- strance or regret from the assembled peerage of the empire, one nobleman sending forth his wrathful ful- mination against the honesty and truth of ministers of religion, and another laughing it off in his own characteristic way with a good-natured jeer as a thing of nought — we cannot but lament the accident by which a question of so grave a nature, and of such portentous consequences to society, as the character of its most sacred functionaries, should have come even for a moment under the treatment of such hands." Events had now ripened for decisive action. The church could not and the state would not yield; and those deeds successively and rapidly occurred that terminated in the disruption. As these, however, were so open, and are so well known, a brief re- capitulation of the leading ones is all that is neces- sary. The seven suspended ministers of Strathbogie, regardless of the sentence of the Assembly, by which they were rendered incapable of officiating in their ministerial character, resolved to ordain and admit Mr. Edwards, the rejected presentee, to the pastoral charge of Marnoch, at the command and by the authority of the Court of Session alone, which had by its sentence commissioned them to that effect. This portentous deed was clone on the 21st of Janu- ary, 1841, and Scotland looked on with as much astonishment as if the Stuarts had risen from the dead. "May Heaven at length open the eyes of those infatuated men," exclaimed Dr. Chalmers, "who are now doing so much to hasten on a crisis which they will be the first to deplore!" For an act of daring rebellion, so unparalleled in the history of the church, it was necessary that its perpetrators should be deposed; and for this Dr. Chalmers boldly moved at the next meeting of Assembly. The ques- tion was no longer whether these men were animated by pure and conscientious though mistaken motives, to act as they had done: of this fact Dr. Chalmers declared that he knew nothing. "But I do know." he added, "that when forbidden by their ecclesi- astical superiors to proceed any further witli Mr. Edwards, they took him upon trials; and when sus- pended from the functions of the sacred ministry by a commission of the General Assembly, they con- tinued to preach and to dispense the sacrament-; that they called in the aid of the civil power to back them in the exclusion from their respective parishes of clergymen appointed by the only competent court to fulfil the office which they were no longer com- petent to discharge; and lastly, as if to crown and consummate this whole disobedience — as if to place the topstone on the Babel of their proud and rebel- lious defiance — I know that, to the scandal and astonishment of all Scotland, and with a daring which I believe themselves would have shrunk from at the outset of their headlong career, they put forth their unlicensed hands on the dread work of ordina- tion; and as if in solemn mockery of the church's most venerable forms, a.-ked of the unhappy man who knelt before them, if he promised 'to submit himself humbly and willingly, in the spirit of meek- ness, unto the' admonitions of the brethren 1 presbytery, and to be subject to them and a!! presbyteries and superior judicatories of this church; and got back from him an affirmative res] onse. rd ing with the declaration that 'zeal tor the honour 1 : God, love to Jesus Christ, and desire of saving souls, were his great motives and chief inducements to enter into' the functions of the holy ministry, and not worldly designs and interests.'" Tli for their deposition was cai rity r.t 97 out of 347 mem!'.'; . ng the 1 ; - position of "the Moderate party, and the sentence was pronounced accordingly. But only the day after the Assembly was astounded by being served with an interdict, eh from carry- 343 THOMAS CHALMERS. ing their sentence into effect ! After this deed of hardihood, the deposed ministers retired to their parishes, and continued their public duties in de- fiance of the Assembly's award, while they were encouraged in their contumacy by several of their Moderate brethren, who assisted them in the celebra- tion of the Lord's supper. A resolution was passed that these abettors of the deposed ministers should be censured; but Dr. Cook and his party opposed the measure, on the plea that it would perpetuate the divisions now prevalent in the church. It was thus made a question, not of the church against the state for the aggressions of the latter against the former, but merely of the Evangelical party against the Moderates; and upon this footing the Moderates were resolved to place it before the legislature, and ascertain to which of the parties the countenance and support of the state was to be given. In this form the result would be certain, for the state would love its own. A disruption was inevitable, and it was equally certain that the evangelical portion of the church would not be recognized by the state as the Established Church of Scotland. This was so distinctly foreseen, that meetings had already been held to deliberate in what manner the church was to be supported after it should be disestablished. Upon this difficult question Dr. Chalmers had already be- stowed profound attention, and been rewarded with the most animating hopes; so that in a letter to Sir George Sinclair he thus writes: — "I have been study- ing a good deal the economy of our non-Erastian church when severed from the state and its endow- ments — an event which I would do much to avert, but which, if inevitable, we ought to be prepared for. I do not participate in your fears of an extinc- tion even for our most remote parishes. And the noble resolution of the town ministers, to share equally with their country brethren, from a common fund raised for the general behoof of the ejected ministers, has greatly brightened my anticipations of a great and glorious result, should the government cast us off." This casting-off became every day more certain. The Court of Session was now the umpire in every case of ecclesiastical rule; so that vetoed preachers and suspended ministers could carry their case before the civil tribunal, with the almost certain hope that the sentence of the church court would be reversed. Thus it was in the case of Culsalmond, in the pres- bytery of Garioch. A preacher was presented whom the parishioners refused to receive as their minister; but the presbytery, animated by the example of their brethren of Strathbogie, forthwith ordained him without waiting, as they were bound, for the ad- judication of the General Assembly; and when its meeting of commission interposed, and arrested these proceedings, it was served by the civil court with a suspension and interdict. Another case was, if pos- sible, still more flagrant. The minister of a parish had been convicted of four separate acts of theft. The cases were of such a contemptible kind of petty larceny, compared witii the position of the culprit and the consequences they involved, that it may be charitably hoped they arose from that magpie mono- mania from which even lords and high-titled ladies are not always exempt, under which they will some- times secrete a few inches of paltry lace, or pocket a silver spoon. But though the cause of such perver- sity might be suited for a consultation of doctors and a course of hellebore, the deeds themselves showed the unfitness of the actor to be a minister. Yet he too applied for and obtained an interdict against the sentence of deposition; so that he was enabled to purloin eggs, handkerchiefs, and pieces of earthen- ware for a few years longer. A third minister was accused of fraudulent dealings, and was about to be tried by his presbytery; but here, also, the civil court was successfully invoked to the rescue, and an inter- dict was obtained to stop the trial. A fourth case was that of a presentee who, in consequence of re- peated acts of drunkenness, was about to be deprived of his license; but this offender was likewise saved by an interdict. And still the state looked on, and would do nothing! The only alternative was for that party to act by whom such proceedings could be conscientiously endured no longer. They must disestablish themselves by their own voluntary deed, whether they constituted the majority of the church or otherwise. But how many of their number were prepared to make the sacrifice? and in what manner was it to be made? This could only be ascertained by a convocation of the ministers from every part of Scotland; and the meeting accordingly was appointed to be held in Edinburgh on the 17th of November, 1842. It was an awful crisis, and as such Dr. Chalmers felt it; so that, having done all that man could do in the way of preparation, he threw himself wholly upon divine strength and counsel. I lis solemn petitions on this occasion were: "Do thou guide, O Lord, the deliberations and measures of that convocation of ministers now on the eve of assembling; and save me, in particular, from all that is rash and unwarrantable when engaged with the counsels or propositions that come before it. Let me not, O God, be an instrument in any way of disappointing or misleading my brethren. Let me not, in this crisis of our church's history, urge a sacrifice upon others which I would not most cheer- fully share with them." The convocation assembled, and 450 ministers were present on the occasion. The deliberations, which extended over several days, were conducted with a harmony and unanimity seldom to be found in church courts; one common principle, and that too of the highest and most sacred import, seemed to animate every member; while in each movement a voice was heard to which they were all ready to listen. The prayer of Dr. Chalmers was indeed answered! It was resolved that no measure could be submitted to, unless it exempted them in all time to come from such a supremacy as the civil courts had lately exercised. Should this not be obtained and guaranteed, the next resolution was, that they should withdraw from a church in which they could no longer conscientiously remain and act under such secular restrictions. It was probable, then, that they must withdraw, but what was to follow? Even to the wisest of their number it seemed inevitable that they must assume the char- acter of mere individual missionaries, each labouring by himself in whatever sphere of usefulness he could find, and trusting to the precarious good-will of Christian society for his support. They could be an organized and united church no longer; for had not such a consequence followed the Bartholomew Act in England, and the Black Act in Scotland, of whose victims they were about to become the willing followers and successors? It was at this trying moment that Dr. Chalmers stepped forward with an announcement that electrified the whole assembly. lie had long contemplated, in common with his brethren, the probability of an exodus such as was now resolved. But that which formed their ulti- matum was only his starting-point. In that very ejectment there was the beginning of a new eccle- siastical history of Scotland; and out of these frag- ments a church was to be constituted with a more complete and perfect organization than before. Such had been his hopes; and for their realization THOMAS CHALMERS. 349 he had been employed during twelve months in draw- ing out a plan by which this disestablished church was to be supported as systematically and effectually by a willing public, as it had been in its highest ascendency, when the state was its nursing-mother. Here, then, was the remote mysterious end of all those laborious studies of former years in legislation, political economy, and finance, at which the wisest of his brethren had marvelled, and with which the more rigid had been offended ! He now unfolded the schedule of his carefully-constructed and admir- able scheme; and the hearers were astonished to find that general assemblies, synods, and presbyteries — that their institutions of missionary and benevolent enterprise, with settled homes and a fitting provision for all in their ministerial capacity — were still at hand, and ready for their occupation, as before. In this way the dreaded disruption was to be nothing more than a momentary shock. And now the ministers might return to their manses, and gladden with these tidings their anxious families who were preparing for a mournful departure. Even yet, however, they trembled — it was a plan so new, so vast, so utterly beyond their sphere ! But they were still unshaken in their resolution, which they subscribed with un- faltering hands; and when Dr. Chalmers heard that more than 300 names had been signed, he exclaimed, "Then we are more than Gideon's army — a most hopeful omen !" Their proposals were duly trans- mitted to Sir Robert Peel, now at the head of govern- ment, and the members, after six days of solemn conference, retired to their homes. The terms of the church, and the reasons on which these were founded, had thus been stated to govern- ment in the most unequivocal sentences, words, and syllables, so that there could be no perversion of their construction, or mistake of their meaning. The answer of the state was equally express, as embodied in the words of Sir Robert Peel. And thus he uttered it in his place in the House of Commons: — "If a church chooses to participate in the advan- tages appertaining to an establishment, that church — whether it be the Church of England, the Church of Rome, or the Church of Scotland — that church must conform itself to the law. It would be an anomaly, it would be an absurdity, that a church should possess the privilege and enjoy the advantages of connec- tion with the state, and, nevertheless, claim exemp- tion from the obligations which, wherever there is an authority, must of necessity exist; and this house and the country never could lay it down, that if a dispute should arise in respect of the statute law of the land, such dispute should be referred to a tribunal not subject to an appeal to the House of Lords." These were the conditions, and therefore the Church of Scotland must succumb. Such treatment of land tenures and offices, as that with which the Articles of Union insuring the independence of the Scottish Kirk were thus treated, would have sufficed to dis- possess no small portion of the English nobility, and dry up hundreds of title-deeds into blank parchment. But on this occasion the dint of the argument fell not upon knights and nobles, whom it would have been dangerous to disturb, but upon Scottish presbyters, of whom sufferance had been the distinctive badge since the day that James VI. entered England. The aggressors and the aggrieved were equally aware that the days of Drumclog and Bothwell Bridge had passed away with the buff-coats and partisans of the seventeenth century, and therefore, while the one party assailed, the other were prepared to defend themselves according to peaceful modern usage. The war of argument and remonstrance had ended, and the overpowered but not vanquished church must rally and entrench itself according to the plan laid down at the beginning of the campaign. It was now, therefore, that Dr. Chalmers was doubly busy. When he announced his financial plan at the con- vocation, by which the retiring church was to be supported in all its former integrity, his brethren had demurred about the possibility of its accomplishment, and now held back from the attempt. That plan was the organization of local associations, by which not only every district, but every family, should be accessible, so that his vision, as they were ready to deem it, of ,£100,000 per annum for the support of the ministry alone, might be accumulated in shillings and pence. It was the trunk of the elephant hand- ling every leaf, twig, and branch of the tree which it was commissioned to uproot. Finding himself, in the first instance, unable to convince by argument, he had recourse to example, and for this purpose he immediately instituted an association of his own in the parish of Morningside, the place of his residence. His example was followed by others; and at last a provisional committee was formed, having for its object the whole plan which he had originally pro- posed. It consisted of three sections — the financial, the architectural, and the statistical — of which the first was properly intrusted to himself; and the result of this threefold action by infinitesimal application quickly justified his theory. Local associations over the whole extent of Scotland were formed by the hundred, and contributions of money accumulated by the thousand, so that, let the disruption occur as it might, the most despondent hearts were cheered and prepared for the emergency. The important period at length arrived that was to set the seal upon all this preparation and promise. The interval which had elapsed was that awful pause of hope and fear, with which friend and enemy await a deed of such moment, that they cannot believe in its reality until it is accomplished. Would then a disraption occur in very truth, and the Church of Scotland be rent asunder? Or would government interpose at the last hour and moment to avert so fatal a necessity? Or might it not be, that when it came to the trial, the hearts of the men who had spoken so bravely would fail them, so that they would be ready to embrace any terms of accommodation, or even surrender at discretion? But the days of martyr':, un — the chivalry of the church — it was asserted had gone for ever; and therefore there were thousands who proclaimed their conviction to the very last that not a hundred would go out — not forty — perhaps not even one. On Thursday the 1 8th of May, 1843. the General Assembly was to be opened, and the question laid to rest, while every district and nook of Scotland had poured its representatives into Edin- burgh to look on and judge. Nor was that day commenced without a startling omen. The ministers of the Assembly had repaired to the ancient palace of Holyrood, to pay dutiful homage to their sove- reign in the person of Lord Bute, her commissioner; and there also were the protesting clergy, eager to show at that trying crisis, that let the issue be what it might, they were, and still would continue to be, the leal and 'loyal subjects of her majesty. But as the crowded levee approached his lordship, the picture of King William that hung upon the wall— he who had restored that Presbyterian church whose rights were now sought to be vindicated— fell to the ground with a sudden clang, while a voice from the crowd exclaimed, "There goes the revolution settlement! The levee was over in Holvr I; tl d ex- ercises had been finished in the cathedral < >f St. Gile- : and the General Assembly were >< ati 1 in St. An Church, ready to commence the business of the day—- 35° THOMAS CHALMERS. but not the wonted business. Dr. Welch, who, as moderator of the last Assembly, occupied the chair of office, and opened the proceedings with prayer, had another solemn duty to perform: it was, to announce the signal of departure to those who must remain in the church no longer; it was like the "Let us go hence," which was heard at midnight in the temple of Jerusalem, when that glorious structure was about to pass away. Rising from his chair, and addressing one of the densest crowds that ever filled a place of worship, but all hushed in the death-like silence of expectation, he announced that he could proceed with the Assembly no further. Their privileges had been violated and their liberties subverted, so that they could no longer act as a supreme court of the Church of Scotland; and these reasons, set forth at full length in the document which he held in his hand, he, with their permission, would now read to them. He then read to them the well-known pro- test of the Free Church of Scotland; and having ended, he bowed respectfully to the commissioner, left his chair of office, and slowly passed to the door. Dr. Chalmers, who stood beside him like one ab- sorbed in some recollection of the past, or dream of the future, started, seized his hat, and hurried after the retiring moderator, as if eager to be gone. A long stream followed; and as bench after bench was emptied of those who thus sacrificed home, and living, and station in society, at the call of con- science, the onlookers gazed as if all was an unreal phantasmagoria, or at least an incomprehensible an- omaly. But the hollow echoes of the building soon told them that it was a stern reality which they had witnessed. More than four hundred ministers, and a still greater number of elders, who but a few moments ago occupied these places, had now de- parted, never to return. In the meantime George Street, one of the widest streets of Edinburgh, in which St. Andrew's Church is situated, was filled — nay wedged — not with thou- sands but myriads of spectators, who waited impa- tiently for the result. Every eye was fixed upon the building, and every tongue was impatient with the question, "Will they come out?" — "When will they come out?" At length the foremost of the retiring ministers appeared at the church porch, and onward came the long procession, the multitudes dividing with difficulty before their advance, and hardly giving them room to pass three abreast. Well, then, they had indeed come out ! and it was difficult to tell whether the applauding shouts or sympathizing tears of that heaving sea of people predominated. On- ward slowly went that procession, extending nearly a quarter of a mile in length, down towards Tanfield, where a place of meeting had been prepared for them in anticipation of the event. It was a building con- structed on the model of a Moorish hambra, such as might have loomed over an orange-grove in Grenada during the days of the Zegris and Abencerrages; but which now, strangely enough, was to receive a band of Scottish ministers, and witness the work of con- stituting a Presbyterian church. The hall, which could contain 3000 sitters, had been crowded from an early hour with those who, in the faith that the ministers would redeem their promises, had come to witness what would follow. This new General As- sembly Dr. Welch opened with prayer, even as lie- had, little more than an hour previous, opened the old; after which it was his office to propose the moderator who should succeed him. And this he did by naming Dr. Chalmers, amidst a tempest of approving acclamation. "Surely it is a good omen," he added, "or, I should say, a token for 1,'ood from the Great Disposer of all events, that I can propose- to hold this office an individual who, by the efforts of his genius and his virtues, is destined to hold so conspicuous a place in the eyes of all posterity. But this, I feel, is taking but a low view of the subject. His genius has been devoted to the service of his heavenly Master, and his is the high honour promised to those who, having laboured successfully in their Master's cause, and turned many to righteousness, are to 'shine as the stars for ever and ever.'" Dr. Chalmers took the chair accordingly; and who can guess the feelings that may have animated him, or the thoughts that may have passed through his mind, at such a moment? He had lived, he had wrought, and this was the result ! A man of peace, he had been thrown into ecclesiastical controversy; a humble- minded minister, he had been borne onward to the front of a great national movement, and been recog- nized as its suggester and leader. And while he had toiled from year to year in doubt and despond- ency, events had been so strangely overruled, that his aims for the purification of the old church had ended in the creation of a new. And of that new church the General Assembly was now met, while he was to preside in it as moderator. That this, too, was really a national church, and not a mere sectarian offshoot, was attested by the fact of 470 ministers standing before him as its representatives; while the public sympathy in its behalf was also re- presented by the crowded auditory who looked on, and followed each successive movement with a solici- tude far deeper than mere transient excitement. All this was a mighty achievement — a glorious victory, which posterity would be proud to chronicle. But in his opening address he reminded them of the ex- ample given by the apostles of our Lord; and by what followed he showed the current into which his mind had now subsided. "Let us not forget," he said, "in the midst of this rejoicing, the deep humility that pervaded their songs of exultation; the trembl- ing which these holy men mixed with their mirth — trembling arising from a sense of their own weakness; and then courage inspired by the thought of that aid and strength which was to be obtained out of His fulness who formed all their boasting and all their defence. Never in the history of our church were such feelings and such acknowledgments more called for than now; and in the transition we are making, it becomes us to reflect on such sentiments as these — 'Not I, but the grace of God in me;' and, 'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.'" Such was the formation and such the commence- ment of the Free Church of Scotland. And now it might have seemed that Dr. Chalmers should be permitted to retire to that peaceful life of study and meditation in which he so longed that the evening of his day should close. But the formation of the new church, instead of finishing his labours, was only to open up a new sphere of trial and difficulty that imperiously demanded the uttermost of his ex- ertions, and which only promised to terminate when his own life had ended. To him there was to be no repose, save in that place where the "weary are at rest." But great though the sacrifice was, he did not shrink from the obligation. The financial affairs of the church which he had originated, and which were still in their new-born infancy, required his fostering care; and therefore he undertook the charge of the sustentation fund out of which the dispossessed ministers were to be supported; and not only main- tained a wide correspondence, but performed a laborious tour in its behalf. And, truly, it was a difficult and trying office, where money was to be raised on the one hand entirely from voluntary bene- THOMAS CHALMERS. 35i volence, and distributed on the other among those who outnumbered its amount, and whose share had to be apportioned accordingly. All this, however, he endured till 1845, when, from very exhaustion, he was obliged to let the burden fall from his shoulders, and be taken up by younger hands, with the declara- tion— "It is not a matter of choice, but of physical necessity. I have neither the vigour nor the alert- ness of former days; and the strength no longer remains with me, either for the debates of the As- sembly or for the details of committees and their correspondence." This, too, was not the only, or perhaps even the most important task which the necessities of the disruption had devolved upon him. A college must be established, and that forthwith, for the training of an accomplished and efficient ministry; and here also Dr. Chalmers was in requisi- tion. His office of theological professor in the uni- versity of Edinburgh was resigned as soon as his connection with the Established Church had ceased; but this was followed by his appointment to the offices of principal and primarius professor of divinity in the new institution which the Eree Church con- templated. Here, then, was a college to create, as well as its duties to discharge; and how well these duties were discharged till the last hour of his life, the present generation of preachers and ministers who were his pupils can well and warmly attest. To his capacious and active mind, the mere gin- horse routine into which such professorial employ- ments had too often degenerated, would have been not only an absolute mockery, but a downright tor- ture; and therefore he was "in season out of season" in the subjects he taught, as well as his modes of educational training, esteeming no labour too much that could either impart new ideas or fresh enthusiasm to those whom he was rearing for the most impor- tant of all occupations. And even independently of this impulse which his labours thus communicated to the mainspring of action in the mechanism of the Eree Church, the fact of his merely holding office there was of the highest importance to the college. No literary institution, however lowly in aspect or poor in endowments, could be insignificant, or even of a second-rate character, that had a man of such world-wide reputation at its head. The college is now a stately edifice, while the staff of theological professors with which it is supplied is the fullest and most complete of all our similar British institu- tions. But amidst all this accumulated pressure of labour, under which even Dr. Chalmers had well-nigh sunk, and the fresh blaze of reputation that fell upon his decline of life, making it brighter than his fullest noon-day — both alike the consequences of that new position which he occupied —there was one favourite duty of which he had never lost sight. It was the elevation of the ground-story of human society from the mud in which it was imbedded — the regeneration of our town pariahs into intelligent, virtuous, and useful citizens, by the agency of intellectual and re- ligi »us education. This he had attempted in Glas- g >.v, both in the Tron and St. John's parish; he had continued it, though with more limited means, and upon a smaller scale, in St. Andrews; and but for his more onerous avocations in Edinburgh, which had engrossed him without intermission miicc his arrival in the northern capital, he would have made the attempt there also. But still he felt as if he could not enjoy the brief term of life that yet re- mained for him, or finally forego it with comfort, unless he made one other attempt in behalf of an experiment from which he had never ceased to hope for the most satisfactory results. Since the time that he had commenced these labours in Glasgow, he had seen much of society in its various phases, and largely amplified his experience of its character and requirements; but all had only the more con- vinced him that the lower orders, hitherto neglected, must be sought in their dens and hovels — that they must be solicited into the light of day and the usages of civilization — and that there the schoolmaster and the minister should be ready to meet them more than half-way. Without this "aggressive system," this "excavating process," by which the deep recesses of a crowded city were to be quarried, and its dark corners penetrated and pervaded, these destitute localities might be studded with churches and schools to no purpose. And the manner in which such a population were to be sought and won, he had also fully and practically demonstrated by his former ex- periments as a minister. Let but a district, however benighted, be divided into sections, where each tene- ment or close could have its own zealous, benevolent superintendent, and dull and obdurate indeed must the inhabitants of that territory be, if they could long continue to resist such solicitations. His first wish was, that the Free Church should have em- barked in such a hopeful enterprise; but its experi- ence was as yet so limited, and its difficulties so many, that it was not likely, during his own lifetime at least, that it could carry on a home mission upon so extensive a scale. He therefore resolved to try the good work himself, and leave the result as a sacred legacy, for the imitation of the church and posterity at large. "I have determined," he wrote to a friend in 1844, "to assume a poor district of 2000 people, and superintend it myself, though it be a work greatly too much for my declining strength and means. Vet such do I hold to be the efficiency of the method, with the divine blessing, that per- haps, as the concluding act of my public life, I shall make the effort to exemplify what as yet I have only expounded." Only expounded? This truly was humble language from one who had already done so much ! The place selected for this benevolent trial was the most unhopeful that could be found in Edinburgh. It was the West Fort, a district too well known in former years by the murders of Burke and Hare, and to which such an infamy still attached, that many of its inhabitants lived as if a good character were unat- tainable, and therefore not worth striving for. Its population consisted of about 2000 sou',-, the very sediment of the Edinburgh lower orders, who seem to have sunk into this loathsome locality because they could sink no farther. To cleanse, nay, even to enter, this Augean stable, required no ordinary firmness of senses as well as nerve, where sight, touch, smell, and hearing were successively assailed to the uttermost. Dr. Chalmers, undaunted by the result of a survey, mapped this Alsatia into twenty district -. of about twenty families apiece, over which were appointed as many visitors — men animated with his spirit, and imbued with his views, whose task was 1 visit every family once a week, engage w.tl kindly conversation, present them with and persuade them to join with them in th of Scripture and in prayer. A sch< • for the young in the very cl -e < ' I Hare murders, but ty sch < 1: on trary, the feeling of independence and tl education were to be inn ressed upon tl population by exacting a lee < : 2 \ pupil — for iir. Chalmers well knew ;.. people than those of the \\ est I' r: that what costs them nothing i> worth n this he explained to them at a lull meeti and ■ ci li- the value of ;is miserable a; t tu feel thing. All - ::. the eld 35'2 THOMAS CHALMERS DAVID CHAMBERS. deserted tannery where the school was to be opened; and so touched were the people with his kindness, as well as persuaded by his homely forcible arguments, that on the nth of November, 1844, tne day on which the school was opened, sixty-four day scholars and fifty-seven evening scholars were entered, who in the course of a year increased to 250. And soon was the excellence of this educational system evinced by the dirty becoming tidy, and the unruly orderly; and children who seemed to have neither home nor parent, and who, when grown up, would have been without a country and without a God, were rescued from the prostitution, ruffianism, and beggary which seemed to be their natural inheritance, and trained into the full promise of becoming useful and virtuous members of society. Thus the cleansing commenced at the bottom of the sink, where all the mephytic vapours were engendered. But still this was not enough as long as the confirming power of religion was wanting, and therefore the church followed close upon its able pioneer the school. On the 22d of December the tan-loft was opened by Dr. Chalmers for public worship, at which no more than a dozen of grown people, chiefly old women, at first attended. But this handful gradually grew into a congregation under the labours of Dr. Chalmers and his staff of district visitors, so that a minister and regular edifice for worship were at last in demand. And never in the stateliest metropolitan pulpit — -no, not even when he lectured in London, while prelate and prince held their breath to listen — had the heart of Dr. Chalmers been more cordially or enthusiastically in his work than when he addressed his squalid auditory in that most sorry of upper rooms in the West Port. And this his prayers which he penned on the Sabbath evening in his study at Morningside fully confirmed: "It is yet but the day of small things with us; and I, in all likelihood, shall be taken off ere that much greater progress is made in the advancement of the blessed gospel throughout our land. But give me the foretaste and the confident foresight of this great Christian and moral triumph ere I die. Let me at least, if it be by thy blessed will, see — though it be only in one or in a small number of specimens — a people living in some district of aliens, as the West Port, reclaimed at least into willing and obedient hearers, afterwards in thine own good time to become the doers of thy word. Give me, O Lord, a token for the larger accomplishment of this good ere I die!" Such were his heavenward breathings and aspirations upon the great trial that was at issue in the most hopeless of civic districts upon the over- whelming question of our day. Would it yet be shown in the example of the West Port that the means of regenerating the mass of society are so simple, and withal so efficacious? The trial is still in progress, hut under the most hopeful auspices. Yet his many earnest prayers were answered. Money was soon collected for the building of a commodious school-room, and model-houses for workmen, and also for a territorial church. The last of these build- ings was finished and opened by Dr. Chalmers for public worship on the 19th of February, 1847; and on the 15th of April he presided at its first celebra- tion of the Lord's supper. When this was ended, he said to the minister of the West Port Church : "I have got now the desire of my heart:— the church is finished, the schools are flourishing, our ecclesi- astical machinery is about complete, and all in good working order. God has indeed heard my prayer, and I could now lay down my head in peace and die." As will be surmised from the foregoing account, Dr. Chalmers, from almost the commencement of his West Port operations, had a prophetic foreboding that this would prove the last of his public labours. Such, indeed, was the result : only a few weeks after this sacrament at the West Port, when, in full health, and with a strength that promised an extreme old age, he passed away in silence, and at midnight, and so instantaneously, that there seemed to have been not a moment of interval between his ending of life in time and beginning of life in eternity. And this was at a season of triumph, when all was bright and gladdening around him; for the Free Church, with which he was so completely identified, had now 720 ministers, for whose congregations churches had been erected, with nearly half a million of money voluntarily contributed, besides a large amount for the building of manses; it had 600 schools; a college of nine professors, educating 340 students for the ministry; and two extensive normal seminaries for the training of teachers; while its missionaries were actively engaged in every quarter of the earth. He had just visited London upon the important subject of a national education; and after unfolding his views to some of our principal statesmen, he returned by the way of Gloucestershire, where he had many friends, with whom he enjoyed much delightful intercourse. He arrived at his home in Morning- side on Friday, the 28th of May, while the General Assembly of the Free Church was sitting; and as lie had a report to prepare for it, he employed himself in the task in the forenoon of Saturday. On the following day his conversation was animated with all its former eloquence, and more than its wonted cheerfulness; and in the evening, as he slowly paced through his garden, at the back of the house, the ejaculations of "O Father, my heavenly Father!" were overheard issuing from his lips, like the spon- taneous utterances of an overflowing heart. He retired to rest at his wonted hour, intending to rise early on the following morning to finish his report ; but when the hour of rising elapsed he did not appear; and on knocking at the bed-room door, no answer was returned. The apartment was entered, and Dr. Chalmers lay in bed as if in tranquil repose; but it was that repose which only the last trump can dispel. He had died, or rather he had passed away, about the hour of midnight; but every feature was so tranquil, and every muscle so composed, that it was evident he had died in an instant, without pain, and even without consciousness. Such was the end of Dr. Chalmers, on the night of the 30th of May, 1847, at the age of sixty-seven. His character it would be superfluous to sketch : that is impressed too indelibly and too plainly upon our country at large to require an interpreter. Thus Scotland felt, when such multitudes followed his remains to the grave as few kingly funerals have ever mustered. Nor will posterity be at a loss to know what a man Dr. Chalmers was. He now constitutes to all future time so essential a portion of Scottish history, that his name will be forgot only when Scotland itself will cease to be remembered. CHAMBERS, David, a distinguished historical and legal writer of the sixteenth century, was a native of Ross-shire, and generally styled "of Or- mond" in that county. He received his education in the laws and theology at Aberdeen College, and afterwards pursued his studies in the former branch of knowledge in France and Italy. The earliest date ascertained in his life is his studying at Bologna under Marianus Sozenus in 1556. Soon after, re- turning to his native country, he assumed the clerical offices of parson of Study and chancellor of the diocese of Ross. His time, however, seems to have DAVID CHAMBERS CHARLES I. 353 been devoted to the legal profession, which was not then incompatible with the clerical, as has already been remarkably shown in the biography of his con- temporary and friend Sir James Balfour. In 1564, h : was elevated to the bench by his patroness Queen Mary, to whose fortunes he was faithfully attached through life. I le was one of the high legal function- aries intrusted at this time with the duty of com- piling and publishing the acts of the Scottish parlia- ment. The result of the labours of these men was a volume, now known by the title of The Black Acts, from the letter in which it is printed. While thus engaged in ascertaining the laws of his country, and diffusing a knowledge of them among his country- men, he became concerned in one of the basest crimes which the whole range of Scottish history presents. Undeterred either by a regard to funda- mental morality, or, what sometimes has a stronger influence over men, a regard to his high professional character, he engaged in the conspiracy for destroy- ing the queen's husband, the unfortunate Darnley. After that deed was perpetrated, a placard was put up by night on the door of the tolbooth, or hall of justice, which publicly denounced him as one of the guilty persons. "I have made inquisition," so ran this anonymous accusation, "for the slaughter of the king, and do find the Earl of Bothwell, Mr. James Balfour parson of Elisk, Mr. David Chambers, and black Mr. John Spence, the principal devysers thereof." Tt affords a curious picture of the times, that two of these men were judges, while the one last-mentioned was one of the two crown advocates, or public prosecutors, and actually appeared in that character at the trial of his accomplice Bothwell. There is matter of further surprise in the partly clerical character of Balfour and Chambers. The latter person appears to have experienced marks of thequeen's favouralmost immediately after the murder of her husband. On the 19th of April he had a ratification in parliament of the lands of Ochterslo and Castleton. On the ensuing 12th of May, he sat as one of the lords of session, when the queen came forward to absolve Bothwell from all guilt he might have incurred, by the constraint under which he had recently placed her. lie also appears in a sederunt of privy-council held on the 22d of May. But after this period, the fortunes of his mistress experienced a strange overthrow, and Chambers, unable to pro- tect himself from the wrath of the ascendant party, found it necessary to take refuge in Spain. He here experienced a beneficent protection from King Philip, to whom he must have been strongly recommended by his faith, and probably also the transactions in which he had lately been engaged. Subsequently retiring to Franpe, he published, in 1572, Histoire Abregee de tons les Roys de France, Angleterre, et Ecosse, which he dedicated to Henry III. His chief authority in this work was the fabulous narrative of Boece. In 1579 he published other two works in the French language, La Recherche des Singularity les phis Rcmarkables concemant f Estait a' Ecosse, and Discours de la Legitime Succes- sion des Eeimries aux Possessions des leurs Parens, et da Gouvernement des Princesses aux Empires et Koyaume. The first is a panegyric upon the laws, religion, and valour of his native country — all of which, a modern may be inclined to think, he had already rendered the reverse of illustrious by his own conduct. The second work is a vindication of the right of succe>sion of females, being in reality a com- pliment to his now imprisoned mistress, to whom it was dedicated. In Fiance. Chambers was a popular and respected character; and he testified his own pre- dilection for the people by selecting their language for vol. 1. his compositions, against the fashion of the age, which would have dictated an adherence to the classic language of ancient Rome. Dempster gives his literary character in a few words — "vir multa.* et varix 1 lectionis, nee inamceni ingenii,"a man of much and varied reading, and of not unkindly genius. He was, to use the quaint phrase of Mackenzie, who gives a laborious dissection of his writings, "well seen in the Greek, Latin, English, French, Italian, and Spanish languages." On the return of quieter times, this strange mixture of learning and political and moral guilt returned to his native country, where, so far from being called to account by the easy James for his concern in the murder of his father, he was, in the year 15S6, re- stored to the bench, in which situation he continued till his death in November, 1592. Another literary character, of the same name and the same faith, lived in the immediately following age. He was the author of a work entitled Davidis Camerarii Scoti, de Scotorum Eortitudine, Doctrina et Pielate, Libri Quatnor, which appeared at Paris, in small quarto, in 163 1, and is addressed by the author in a flattering dedication to Charles I. The volume contains a complete calendar of the saints connected with Scotland, the multitude of whom is apt to astonish a modern Protestant. CHARLES I., King of Great Britain, was the second son of James VI. of Scotland and I. of Great Britain, by Anne, daughter of Frederick II., King of Denmark and Norway. Charles was born at Dunfermline Palace, which was the dotarial or jointure house of his mother the queen, on the 19th of November, 1600, being the very day on which the Earl of Cowrie and his brother were publicly dis- membered at the cross of Edinburgh, for their con- cern in the celebrated conspiracy. King James re- marked with surprise that the principal incidents of his own personal and domestic history had taken place on this particular day of the month: he had been born, he said, on the 19th of June; he first saw his wife on the 19th of May; and his two former children, as well as this one, had been born on the 19th day of different months. Charles was only two years and a half old when his father was called up to England to fill the throne of Elizabeth. The young prince was left behind, in charge of the Earl of Dunfermline, but joined his father in July, 1603. along with his mother and the re.-t of the royal family. Being a very weakly child, and not likely to live long, the honour of keeping him, which in other circumstances would have been eagerly sought, was bandied about by the courtiers, and with some difficulty was at length accepted by Sir Robert Carey and his wife. This was the gentleman who hurried, with such mean alacrity, to inform King James o! the demise of his cousin Elizabeth, from whom, in life, he had received as many favours as he e< i:l I now hope for from her successor. Carey tells us in his own memoirs, that the legs of the child were unable to support him, and that the king had_s me thoughts of mending the matter by a pair of boots, from which, however, he was dissuaoe 1. At his baptism, December 23, 1600. Charle> had re- ceived the titles of Duke of Albany. Marquis of Ormond, Karl of Ross, and Fori A He was now, January, 1605. honoured with the second title of the English royal family— Duke of ■* ork. King [ames, whatever may have beer, the frivolity of his character in some respects, 1- unden:a:>ly en- titled to the credit of having carefully educated his children. Prince Henry, the elder br th« r. a:; : also Charles, were proficients in English, Latin, and- : ?4 CHARLES I. French, at an amazingly early age. Although, from their living in separate houses, he did not see them often, he was perpetually writing them instructive and encouraging letters, to which they replied, by his desire, in language exclusively supplied by them- selves. The king was also in the habit of sending many little presents to his children. "Sweete, sweete father," says Charles, in an almost infantine epistle yet preserved in the Advocates' Library, "I learn to decline substantives and adjectives. Give me your blessing. I thank you for my best man. Your loving son, York." The character of Charles was mild, patient, and serious, as a child is apt to be who is depressed by ill health, or inability to share in youthful sports. His brother Henry, who was nearly seven years his senior, and of more ro- bust character, one day seized the cap of Archbishop Abbot, which he put upon Charles' head, telling him, at the same time, that when he was king, he would make him Archbishop of Canterbury. Henry dying in November, 1612, left a brighter prospect open before his younger brother, who, in 1616, was formally created Prince of Wales. At this splendid ceremony the queen could not venture to appear, lest the sight should renew her grief for the amiable Henry, whom she had seen go through the same solemnity only a short time before his death. As he grew up towards manhood, Charles gradually acquired strength, so that at twenty he was well skilled in manly exercises, and accounted the best rider of the great horse in his father's dominions. His person was slender, and his face — but the majestic melancholy of that face is too deeply impressed on every mind to require de- scription. It was justly accounted very strange that the Marquis of Buckingham, the frivolous favourite of King James, should have become equally agree- able to the grave temperament of the Prince of Wales. Charles was perpetually in the company of that gay courtier, and the king used to consider them both as his children. He always addressed the prince by the epithet "Baby Charles," and in writing to Buckingham, he as invariably subscribed himself as "his dear dad." James had high abstract notions as to the rank of those who should be- come the wives of princes. He considered the sacred character of a king degraded by a union with one under his own degree. While his parliament, therefore, wished him to match his son to some small German princess, who had the advantage of being a good Protestant, he contemplated wedding him to the grand-daughter of Charles V., the sister of the reigning king of Spain. Both James and Charles had a sincere sense of the errors of Rome; but the fatality of matching with a Catholic princess was not then an established maxim in English policy, which it is to be hoped it ever will be in this realm. It was also expected that the Spanish monarch would be instrumental in procuring a restoration of the pala- tinate of the Rhine for the son-in-law of the King of Great Britain, who had lost it in consequence of his placing himself at the head of the Bohemians, in a rebellion against the Emperor of Germany. The Earl of Bristol, British ambassador at Madrid, was carrying on negotiations fortius match, when Charles, with the romantic feeling of youth, resolved to travel into Spain, and woo the young princess in person. In February, 1623, he set out with the Marquis of Buckingham, and only two other attendants, himself bearing the incognito title of Mr. John Smith, a union of the two most familiar names in England, while the marquis assumed that of Mr. Thomas Smith. At Paris they obtained admission to the rehearsal or practising of a masque, where the prince bjheld the Princess Henrietta Maria of Prance, daughter of the illustrious Henry IV., and sister of the reigning king, Louis XIII., who was in reality destined to be his wife. It appears, however, that he paid no attention to this lady on the present occa- sion. His heart being full of the object of his journey, he directed his wdiole attention to the Queen of France, because she was sister to the Spanish prin- cess whom he was going to see. In a letter to his father, he speaks in terms of high expectation of the latter individual, seeing that her sister was the hand- somest of twenty women (Henrietta was of course in- cluded) whom he saw at this masque. That Charles subsequently placed his whole affections on a woman whom he now saw with indifference is only another added to the many proofs, that love is among the most transferable of all things. On his arrival at Madrid, he was received in the most courteous manner by the Spanish court, and his gallantry, as might be ex- pected, made a strong impression upon the people. The celebrated Lopez de Vega wrote a canzonet on the occasion, of which the first verse has chanced to meet our eye : Carlos Estuardo soy; Que siendo amor mi quia Al cielo de Espana voy Por vor nir estrello Maria. [Charles Stuart am I: Love has guided me far To this fair Spanish sky, To see Mary my star.] But while he was entertained in the most affec- tionate manner by the people, and also by their prince, the formal policy of the court dictated that he should hardly ever see his intended bride. The Marquis of Buckingham seriously proposed that he should send home for some perspective glasses, in order to reduce the distance at which she was kept from him. So far as his opportunities permitted him to judge of her personal merits, he admired her very much; but we suspect that if he had fallen in love, as he had expected, he never would have broken off the match. After spending all the summer at the Spanish court, waiting for a dispensation from the pope to enable the princess to marry a Protestant, he was suddenly inspired with some disgust, and abruptly announced his intention of returning home. The Marquis (now Duke) of Buckingham, whose mercurial manners had given great offence to the Spaniards, and who had conceived great offence in return, is supposed to have caused this sudden change of purpose. The Earl of Bristol was left to marry the princess in the way of proxy, but with secret in- structions not to do so till he should receive further orders. It would be rash to pronounce judgment upon this affair with so little evidence as history has left us; but it seems probable that the match was broken off, and the subsequent war incurred, purely through some freakish caprice of the favourite — for upon such tilings then depended the welfare of the nations. This contemptible court-butterfly ruled with absolute power over both the king and his son, but now chiefly sided with the latter against his father, being sensible that the old king was no longer able to assert his independency against the growing influence of Charles. As the English people would have then fought in any quarrel, however unjust, against the Spaniards, simply because they were Catholics, the war was very popular; and Buckingham, who chiefly urged it, became as much the favourite of the nation, as he was of the king and prince. A negotiation was subsequently opened with Prance for a match with the princess Henrietta Maria. On the 27th of March, 1625, Charles succeeded his father as king; CHARLES I. 355 and, on the 22(1 of June, the princess, to whom he had previously been espoused by proxy, arrived in London. It would be foreign to the character of this work to enter into a full detail of the public transactions in which Charles was concerned in his regal char- acter. We shall, therefore, be content with an out- line of these transactions. The arrogant pretensions of his father, founded on "the right divine of kings to govern wrong," had roused a degree of jealousy and resistance among the people; whilst the weak- ness and vacillation of his character, and the pusil- lanimity of his administration, had gone far to bring the kingly office into contempt. Charles had imbibed the arbitrary principles of his father, and, without appreciating the progress of public opinion, resolved, on his accession, to carry out the extravagant theories of James. During the whole reign of the latter the commons had kept up a constant warfare with the crown, making every supply which they voted the condition of a new concession to the popular will. The easy nature of James had got over these colli- sions much better than was to be expected from the grave and stem temperament of his son. After a few such disputes with his parliament (for the House of Lords always joined with the Commons), Charles concluded his wars, to save all expense, and, re- solving to call no more parliaments, endeavoured to support the crown in the best way he could by the use of his prerogative. For ten years subsequent to 1628, when the Duke of Buckingham was assassi- nated, he contrived to carry on the state with hardly any assistance from his officers, using chiefly the ill- omened advice of Laud, Bishop of London, after- wards Archbishop of Canterbury, and also relying considerably upon the queen, to whom he was de- votedly attached. The result was to sow distrust and discontent throughout the kingdom, to array the subject against the sovereign, and leave no alter- native betwixt the enthralment of the people and the destruction of the king. The earnest struggles for religious freedom in England and Scotland added a fresh impulse to the growing spirit of civil liberty. Charles rashly encountered the powerful body of nonconformists in England and the sturdy Presbyter- ians of Scotland, and at last sank under the recoil. The dissenters from the Church of England were at this time a rapidly increasing body; and the church, to maintain her power, thought proper to visit them with some severe sentences. The spirit with which the regular clergy were animated against the non- conformists, may be argued from the fact, that Laud publicly blessed God when Dr. Alexander Leighton was sentenced to lose his ears, and be whipped through the streets of London. The king and the archbishop had always looked with a jealous eye upon Scotland, where the Episcopal form of govern- ment was as yet only struggling for supremacy over a people who were, almost without exception, Pres- byterian. In 1633 Charles visited Scotland for the purpose of receiving the crown of his ancient king- dom; and measures were thenceforth taken under the counsel of his evil genius, Laud, who accompanied him, for enforcing Episcopacy upon the Church of Scotland. It was not, however, till 1637 that this bold project was carried into effect. The Scots united themselves in a solemn covenant against this innovation, and at the close of the year 163S felt themselves so confident in their own strength as to abolish Episcopacy in a general as- sembly of the church held in Glasgow, and which conducted its proceedings in spite of the prohibition of the king's commissioner. In 1630. his finances being exhausted, Charles was compelled, after the lapse of eleven years, to assemble a parliament, which met in April, 1640. Like their predecessors, the commons refused to grant supplies till they had stated their grievances. The king hastily dissolved parliament, and prosecuted several of the members who had led on the opposition. In spring, 1639, he conducted an army of 20,000 to put down the Scots; but they met him with an equal force, and Charles was reduced to a pacification, which left the grounds of quarrel undecided. Next year Charles raised another army; but the Scots anticipated him by invading England, and at Newburn on the Tyne overthrew a large detachment of his forces, and im- mediately after gained possession of Newcastle. All expedients for supporting his army now failed, and he seemed about to be deserted in a great measure by the affections of his subjects. A large portion of the English entered heartily into the views of the Scots. It was agreed by all parties that the northern army should be kept up at a certain monthly pay, till such time as a parliament should settle the grievances of the nation. Charles called together the celebrated assembly which afterwards acquired the name of the Long Parliament. This was only giving collective force and energy to the party which longed for his overthrow. He was obliged to resign his favourite minister, Strafford, as a victim to this assembly. Some of his other servants only escaped by a timely flight. He was himself obliged to abandon many points of his prerogative which he had hitherto exercised. Fearing that nothing but the sword could decide the quarrel, he paid a visit in autumn, 1641, to Scotland, and endeavoured, by ostensible conces- sions to the religious prepossessions of that nation, to secure its friendship, or at least its neutrality. In August, 1642, he erected his standard at Nottingham, and soon found himself at the head of a considerable army, composed chiefly of the country gentry and their retainers. The parliament, on the other hand, was supported by the city of London and by the mercantile interest in general. At the first Charles gained several advantages over the parliament; but the balance was restored by the Scots, who took side against the king, and, in February, 1644, entered England with a large army. The cause of royalty from this time declined, and in May, 1646, the king was reduced to the necessity of taking refuge in the camp of the Scottish army at Newark. lie was treated with respect, but regarded as a prisoner, and after some abortive negotiations, was, January 30, 1647, surrendered to the commissioners of the Eng- lish parliament, on the payment of the arrears due to the Scottish army. If Charles would have now consented to abolish Episcopacy, and reign as a limited monarch, he would have been supported by the Presbyterian party, and might have escaped a violent death. But his predilections induced him to resist every encroachment upon that form of ecclesi- astical polity; and he therefore lost, in a great mea- sure, the support of the Presbyterians, who, though the body that had begun the war, were now sincerely anxious for a pacification, being in some alarm re- specting a more violent class who had latterly sprung up, and who, from their denial of all forms of church government, were styled Independents. 'I his latter party, which reckoned almost the whole army in its numbers, eventually acquired an ascendency over the more moderate Presbyterians: and. the latter being forcibly excluded from parliament, the few individ- uals who remained formed themselves into a court of justice, before which the king was arrai; Having been found guilty of a; pcaring in arms against the parliament. Charles was by this curt condemned to suffer death as a traitor, which sen- ;;> WALTER CHEPMAN. tence was put in execution, January 30, 1649, in front of his own palace of Whitehall, in the forty- ninth year of his age, and twenty-fifth year of his reign. The Scottish subjects of Charles had made strenu- ous exertions to avert this fearful issue; and by none was his death mourned with a deeper sorrow than by the very Covenanters who had risen in arms to repel his invasion upon their liberty of conscience. It was indeed impossible not to deplore the fate of that unfortunate and misguided monarch; but it can- not be doubted that it was mainly brought about by his own insincerity and obstinacy. By his queen, who survived him for some years, he left six children, of whom the two eldest, Charles and James, were suc- cessively kings of Great Britain; a son and a daughter died in early youth; and his two remaining daughters, Mary and Henrietta, were respectively married to the Prince of Orange, and to the Duke of Orleans, brother of Louis XIV. CHEPMAN, Walter, who appears to have been chiefly concerned in introducing the art of printing into Scotland, was a servant of King James 1\*., who patronized him in that undertaking. None of the honours of learning are known to have been attached to the name of Walter Chepman ; but it is to be inferred that his office in the royal household was of a clerical or literary character, as we find that, on the 2ist of February, 1496, the lord-treasurer enters the following disbursement in his books : "Giffen to a boy to rynne fra Edinburgh to Linlithq, to Watte Chepman, to signet twa letteris to pas to Woddis, I2d." His name is frequently mentioned in this curious record; for instance, in August, 1503, amidst a variety of expenses "pro servitoribus" on the occasion of the king's marriage, eight pounds ten shillings are given for "five elne Inglis (English) claith to Walter Chepman, ilk elne 34 shillings," which may show the high consideration in which this individual was held. Walter Chepman is found at a somewhat later period in the condition of a merchant and burgess of Edinburgh, and joining with one Andro Millar, another merchant, in the business of a printer. It appears to have been owing to the urgent wishes of the king that Scotland was first favoured with the possession of a printing-press. This typographical business would appear to have been in full operation before the end of 1507, as on the 22d of December that year, we find the royal treasurer paying fifty shillings for "3 prentit bukes to the king, tane fra Andro Millaris wyff." The Cowgate, a street now inhabited by the least in- structed class of the citizens of Edinburgh, was the place where that grand engine of knowledge was established, as appears from the imprints of some of Chepman and Millar's publications, and also from a passage in the Traditions of Edinburgh, where the exact site of the house is thus made out: — "In the lower part of the churchyard [of St. Giles, adjoining the Cowgate] there was a small place of worship, denominated the Chapel of Ilolyrood. Walter Chepman, the first printer in Edinburgh, in 1528, endowed an altar in this chapel with his tenement in the Cowgate; and, by the tenor of this charter, we are enabled to point out very nearly the resid- ence of this remarkable person. The tenement is thus described: — 'All and haiil this tenement of land, back and foir, with houses, biggings, yards, and well thereof, lying in the Cowgate of Edinburgh, on the south side thereof, near the said chapel, be- twixt the lands of James Lamb on the east, and (In- lands of John Aber on the west, the arable lands called Wairam's croft on the south, and the said street on the north part.'" It is probable that the site is now covered by the new bridge thrown across the Cowgate at that point. In the course of a few years Chepman and Millar produced works, 1 of which hardly any other set is known to exist than that preserved in the Advocates' Library. The privilege granted to Chepman and Millar was of a rigidly exclusive kind — for at this early period the system of monopolizing knowledge, which is now an absurdity and a disgrace, was a matter of neces- sity. In January, 1509, we find Walter Chepman asserting the right of his patent against various indi- viduals who had infringed upon it by importing books into the country. The lords of council thus reinforced the privilege they had formerly granted to him : — "Anent the complaint maid by Walter Chepman, that quhar he, at the desyre of our soverane lord, furnist and brocht hame ane prent and prentaris, for prenting of croniclis, missalis, portuuss, and utheris buikis within this realme, and to seclude salisberyis use; And to that effect thair wes lettres under our said soverane lordis priue sele direct, till command and charge oure soverane lordis liegis, that nain of thaim suld inbring or sell ony bukis of the said use of Salisbery, under the pane of escheting of the samyn; Neuirtheless, Wilyiam FTost, Francis Frost, William Sym, Andro Ross, and diuers uthers, mer- chandis within the burgh of Edinburgh, hes brocht haim, and selis daly, diuers bukis of the said use, sik as mess bukis, mannualis, portuiss, matinbuikis, and diuers uther bukis, in the disobeing of the said com- mand and lettres, lik as at mar lenth Is contenit in the said complaint: The saidis Walter, William, Francis, William, and Andro, being personally pre- sent, And thair Richtis, reasons and allegacions herd sene and understand, and thairwith being Riply avisit, The Lordis of Counsale forsaidis commandit and chargit the saids William Frost, Francis Frost, William Sym, and Andro Ros, personal)', that nain of thaim, in tyme to cum, bring hame, nor sell within this Realme, ony misale bukis, mammals, portuiss, or matinbukis, of the said use of Salusbery, under the payn of escheting of the samyn; And that lettres be written in dew forme to the provest and balyies of Edr. and to officeris of the kingis Sheriffes in that pairt, to command and charge be oppin proclama- tion, all utheris merchandis and persons, that nain of thaim bring haim, nor sell within this Realme, ony of the bukis abonewritten of the said use of salusbury, in tyme to come under the said pain, ac- cording to the said lettres under our souerane lordis priue sele direct thairuppon; And as to the bukis that ar ellis brocht hame be the saidis merchantis and uther persons, that thai bring nain to the merket, nor sell nain, within this Realme, bot that thei have the samyn furth of this Realme, and sell thaim; and that the saidis provest, baillies, and officiaris forsaidis, 1 The Porteous of Nobleness, translatit out of Ffrenclie in Scottis, be Maister Andro Cadyou.— The Knightly 'Jute of Golagras and Gawane.—Sir Glamore.—Balade: In alt our Gardenne growes their no Flowres. — The Golden Tinge; compilit be Maister William Dunbar.- The Mayng, or J 'is- port of Chaucere- The Flyting of Dunbar ami Kennedy.— T/ic Traite of Orpheus King. — The Nobilness and grete Magneficencc. — The Baladr of ane right Noble I 'ictorious and Mighty Lord Barnard Stewart, of Aubigny, Earl oj Beau- mont, &>c. Compilit be Mr. Wilyam Dunbar. The Tale if the Tina Mariit Women and the U'edo.- Lament for the Death of the Makkaris. — Poetical /Vice, of one page in length, commencing, My Gudame was a gay ll'yf- The Testament of Mr. Andro Kennedy.— Pitts, &>c, of Robyn find. Breuiarij Aberdonensis ad percelebris Ecclesie Scotor.- T.jusdem Breviarii Pars /Estivalis, per- Referendum in Ckristo Patrem U'llelmum, Abirdon. Episcopum, studio- sius, maximisquc cum laboribus collect. CEORCE CHEYNE. 357 serche and seik quhar ony of the saidis manuale, bukis, mesbukis, matinbukis, and portuiss, of the said use beis brocht haitu in tyme tocum, or sauld of thaim that ar ellis brocht hame, and eschete tlie samyn to our soverane lordis use : And als, that na persons tak copijs of the buikis abonwrittin and donatis, and .... or uther buikis that the said Walter lies prentit ellis for till haf thaim to uther Realmes to ger thaim be prentit, brocht haim, or sauld, within this Realme In tyme tocum, under the pain of escheting of the samin; And quha dois in the contrair, that the said pain be put to executioun on thaim, And that lettres be direct herapon, in dew forme, as said Is." (Acta Dom. Cone. xxi. 70.) The troubles which befell the kingdom in 15 13, in consequence of the battle of Flodden and the death of the king, appear to have put a stop for another age to the progress of the typographical art in Scot- land. There is no further trace of it till the year 1542, when the national mind was beginning to feel the impulse of the Reformation. Nothing further is known of Walter Chepman, except what is to be gathered from the above passage in the Traditions 0/ Edinburgh — namely, that he was employed in 1528 in bequeathing his property to the church, being then in all probability near the end of life. CHEYNE, GEORGE, a physician of considerable eminence, was born in 1671, "of a good family," though neither the name of his father, nor the place of his birth, has been commemorated. He received a regular and liberal education, and was at first de- signed by his parents for the church. But though his mind was naturally of a studious turn, he after- wards preferred the medical profession. lie studied physic at Edinburgh, under the celebrated Dr. Pit- cairne, to whom he became much attached, and whom he styles, in the preface to his Essay on Health and Long Life, "his great master and generous friend." He has informed us that he was, at this period of his life, addicted to gay studies and in- dulgences; but that he was soon apprised by the shaking of his hands, and a disposition to be easily ruffled on a surprise, of the unfitness of his constitu- tion for intemperance. When about thirty years of age, having taken the degree of M.D., he repaired to London, and there commenced practice as a physician. It affords a curious picture of the times, that he found it necessary to become a frequenter of taverns in order to get into practice. His cheerful temper and vivacious conversation soon rendered him the favourite of the other gentlemen who fre- quented those places; he "grew daily," he says, "in bulk, and in friendship with those gay men, and their acquaintances." But this could not last long. He soon became excessively fat, short-winded, and lethargic, and being further admonished by an attack of vertigo, nearly approaching to apoplexy, he was obliged to abandon that style of life altogether. Previous to this period he had written, at the re- quest of Dr. Pitcairne, "A .Yt-.o Theory of Acute and S/otV Continued Fevers; wherein, besides the appear- ances of such, and the manner of their cure, occasion- ally, the Structure of the Glands, and the Manner and Laws of Secretion, the Operation of Purgative, Vomitive, and Mercurial Medicines, are mechani- cally explained." I >r. Pitcairne had wished to write such a work himself, in order to overthrow the op- posing theories of some oi his brethren, but was pre- vented from doing so by his constant application to practice, and therefore desired Dr. Cheyne to under- take the task in his place. The work was hastily produced, and though it was favourably received, the author never thought it worthy of receiving hi;, name. The next work of Dr. Cheyne was entitled Fiuxionum Methodus Lnversa: sne quantitatum Jluentium leges generates. I. ike many men who are eminent in one professional branch of knowledge, he was anxious to display an amateur's accomplishment in another; and hence this attempt at throwing light upon the mysteries of abstract geometry. In later life he had the candour to say of this work that it was "brought forth in ambition, and brought up in vanity." "There are some things in it," he adds, "tolerable for the time, when the methods of quad- ratures, the mensuration of ratios, and transforma- tion of curves into those of other kinds, were not advanced to such heights as they now are. Put it is a long time since I was forced to forego these barren and airy studies for more substantial and commodious speculations: indulging and rioting in these s>o exqui- sitely bewitching contemplations being only proper to public professors, and those who are under no outward necessities. Besides, to own a great but grievous truth, though they may quicken and sharpen the invention, strengthen and extend the imagina- tion, improve and refine the reasoning faculty, and are of use both in the necessary and luxurious refine- ment of mechanical arts; yet, having no tendency to rectify the will, sweeten the temper, or mend the heart, they often leave a stiffness, positiveness, and sufficiency on weak minds, much more pernicious to society, and the interests of the great ends of our being, than all the advantages they can bring can recompense." On finding his health so materially affected by intemperance, Dr. Cheyne left off eating suppers entirely, and in his other meals took only a little animal food, and hardly any fermented liquor. He informs us, that being now confined to the peniten- tial solitude of a sick chamber, he had occasion to experience the faithlessness of all friendship formed on the principle of a common taste for sensual in- dulgences. His boon companions, even those who had been particularly obliged to him, left him like the stricken deer, to bewail his own unhappy condi- tion; "so that at last," says the doctor, "I was forced into the country alone, reduced to the state of Cardinal Wolsey, when he said, 'if he had served his Maker as faithfully and warmly as he had Ids prince, he would not have forsaken him in that ex- tremity;' and so will every one find, when union and friendship is not founded on solid virtue, and in conformity to the divine order, but in mere jollity. Being thus forsaken, dejected, melancholy, and con- fined in my country retirement, my body melting away like a snow-ball in summer, I had a long season for reflection. Having had a regular and liberal education, with the instruction and ex. of pious parents. I had preserved a firm persiiasi :i of the great fundamental principles of all virtue and morality, namely, pure religion; in which I had been confirmed from abstract reasonings, a- v. e'.l as from the best natural philosophy. This led me to consider who of all my acquaintance I could wish to resemble most, or which of them had received and lived up to the plain truths a tained in the gospels, or particularly 1 ;.r >..-..■ .:: > sermon on the mount. I then fixe : and learned clergyman; and as in stu matics, and in turning over Sir Isaac Newton s philosophical works, I always :;.. m the authors and writings mostly useil ai so in this case I ] urchased a:: 1 -tu« iritual and dogmatic authors as I knew tl ;-w approved. Thus I 1 >11< ' i a set :" religi ■■.:- of the fir-t ages since Christianity, with a few- most spiritual of the mu-lerr.s, which have been my 358 GEORGE CHEYNE HUGH CLAPPERTON. study, delight, and entertainment ever since, and on these I have formed my ideas, principles, and senti- ments, which have never been shaken." Dr. Cheyne further informs us, that this reformation in his re- ligious temperament contributed greatly to forward the cure of his nervous diseases, which he perfected by a visit to Bath. On his return to London, Dr. Cheyne commenced living upon a milk diet, which he found remarkably salutary; but after a long course of years he gradually relapsed into a freer style of living, and though he never indulged to the least excess either in eating or drinking, his fat returned upon him, and at last he weighed upwards of thirty-two stone. Being again admonished of the evil effects of his indulgences, he all at once reverted to his milk diet, and in time regained his usual health. From this moderate style of living he never again departed; and accordingly he enjoyed tolerable health till 1743, when, on the 1 2th of April, he died at Bath, in full possession of his faculties to the last, and without experiencing a pang. Besides the works already mentioned, Dr. Cheyne published, in 1 705, his Philosophical Principles of Natural Religion, containing the Elements of Natural Philosophy, and the Proofs for Natural Religion arising front them. This work he dedicated to the Earl of Roxburgh, at whose request, and for whose instruction, it appears to have been originally written. He also published An Essay on the True Nature and Due Method of treating the Gout, together with an account of the Nature and Quality of the Bath Waters, which passed through at least five editions, and was followed by An Essay on Health and Long Life. The latter work he afterwards published in Latin. In 1733 appeared his English Malady, or a Treatise on Nervous Diseases of all kinds, as Spleen, Vapours, Lowness of Spirits, Hypochondriacal and ILysterical Distempers. From the preface of this work we have derived the particulars here related respecting his own health through life. In 1740 Dr. Cheyne pub- lished An Essay on Regimen. His last work, which he dedicated to his friend and correspondent the Earl of Chesterfield, was entitled The Natural Me- thod of Curing the Diseases of the Human Body, and the Disorders oj the Mind attending on the Body. Dr. Cheyne was eminently the physician of ner- vous distempers. He wrote chiefly to the studious, the voluptuous, and those who inherited bad con- stitutions from their parents. As a physician, he seemed to proceed, like Hippocrates of old and Sydenham of modern times, upon a few great per- ceptible truths. He is to be ranked among those who have accounted for the operations of medicine, and the morbid alterations which take place upon the human body, upon mechanical principles. A spirit of piety and benevolence, and an ardent zeal for the interests of virtue, run through all his writ- ings. It was commonly said, that most of the phy- sicians of his own day were secretly or openly tainted with irreligion; but from this charge Dr. Cheyne rendered himself an illustrious exception. He was as much the enemy of irreligion in general society, as of intemperance in his professional character. Some of the metaphysical notions which he has in- troduced in his writings may be thought fanciful and ill-grounded; but there is an agreeable vivacity in his productions, together with much candour and frankness, and, in general, great perspicuity. Of his relatives, his half-brother, the Rev. William Cheyne, vicar of Weston, near Bath, died Septem- ber 6, 1767, and his son, the Rev. John Cheyne, vicar of Brigstock, Northamptonshire, died August 11, 1 70S. CLAPPERTON, Hugh, the distinguished Afri- can traveller, was born at Annan in Dumfriesshire, in the year 1788. His father, Mr. George Clapper- ton, a respectable surgeon in that town, was married twice; by the first marriage he had ten or eleven sons and a daughter, by the second three sons and three daughters. The subject of this memoir was the youngest son by the first marriage. Owing partly to the number of his family, and partly to an improvident disposition, Mr. Clapperton was unable to give his son Hugh that classical education which is so generally bestowed by people of the middle ranks in Scotland upon their children. When able to do little more than read and write indifferently, Hugh was placed under the care of Mr. Bryce Downie, eminent as a mathematical teacher, through whom he acquired a knowledge of practical mathe- matics, including navigation and trigonometry. Mr. Downie ever after spoke in terms of warm affection respecting his pupil, whom he described both as an apt scholar, and a most obliging boy, and able to bear with indifference the extremities of heat and cold. It is frequently the fate of a large family of the middle order in Scotland, that at least one-half of the sons leave their father's house at an early age, with little more than the sailor's inheritance of a light heart and a thin pair of breeches, to push their way in search of fortune over every quarter of the globe, and in every kind of employment. The family of Mr. George Clapperton appears to have been one of this order, for, while Hugh found distinction and a grave in the plains of Africa, no fewer than five of his brothers had also adopted an adventurous career, in the course of which some rose to a considerable rank in the navy and marine service, while others perished in their bloom. At the age of seventeen, the subject of this memoir was bound apprentice to Mr. Smith, of the Postlethwaite of Maryport, a large vessel trading between Liverpool and North America. In this situation he continued for some years, already distinguished for coolness, dexterity, and intre- pedity, when his course of life was suddenly changed by what appeared to be a most unhappy incident. On one occasion the ship, when at Liverpool, was partly laden with rock-salt, and as that commodity was then dear, the mistress of a house which the crew frequented very improperly enticed Clapperton to bring her ashore a few pounds in his handkerchief. After some entreaty the youth complied, probably from his ignorance of the revenue laws; was caught in the act by a custom-house officer, and menaced with the terrors of trial and imprisonment, unless he consented to go on board the tender. He imme- diately chose the latter alternative, and, shortly after, gave a brief account of what had occurred, and the new situation in which he found himself placed, in a letter addressed to Mr. Scott, banker, Annan, con- cluding, though in modest and diffident terms, by soliciting the good offices of this gentleman to pro- cure him promotion. By the influence of Mr. Scott, exerted through General Dirom of Mount Annan, and his equally amiable lady, Clapperton was draughted on board the Clorinde, which was then fitting out for the East Indies. The commander of this vessel, in compliance with the request of Mrs. General Dirom, to whom he was related, paid some attention to Clapperton, and finding him active and intelligent beyond his years, speedily promoted him to the" rank of a midshipman; a circumstance which tended in no mean degree to fix his destiny and shape his fortune in life. Previous to 1813 the British sailors were trained to no particular method of managing the cutlass. It HUGH CLAPPERTON. 359 being suggested that this was a defect, a few clever midshipmen, among whom was Clapperton, were ordered to repair to Plymouth dockyard, to be in- structed by the celebrated swordsman Angelo, in what was called the improved cutlass exercise. When their own instructions had been completed, they were distributed as teachers over the fleet, and Mr. Clapperton happened to be appointed to the Asia, 74, the flag-ship of Vice-admiral Sir Alexander Cochrane, then lying at Spithead. This vessel set sail in January, 1814, for I5ermuda, and Mr. Clap- perton continued during the voyage to act as drill- sergeant. While lying at Bermuda, and on the passage out, nothing could exceed Mr. Clapperton's diligence in discharging the duties of his new occupation. Officers as well as men received instructions from him in the cutlass exercise; and his manly figure and sailor-like appearance tended, in the opinion of all who saw him, to fix the attention and improve the patriotic spirit of the crew. At his own, as well as the other messes, where he was a frequent guest, he was the very life and soul of the party; sung a good song, told a merry tale, painted scenes for the ship's thea- tricals, sketched views, drew caricatures, and, in one word, was an exceedingly amusing and interesting person. Even the admiral became acquainted with his delightful properties, and honoured him with his warmest friendship and patronage. Clapperton was obliged, however, to repair to the Canadian lakes, which were then about to become the scene of im- portant naval operations. Here he was promoted to the rank of li.utenant, and soon after appointed to the command of the Confiance schooner, the crew of which was composed of nearly all the un- manageable characters in the squadron. To keep these men in order was no easy task; yet his measures were at once so firm and so judicious, that, although hj rarely had recourse to flogging, and withheld or disbursed allowances of grog, as a better system of rewards and punishments, his troops in the end be- came so orderly, that the Confiance was allowed to be one of the smartest barks on the water. In the year 1S17, when the flotilla on the lakes was dismantled, Clapperton returned to England, to to be placed, like many others, on half-pay, and he ultimately retired to the old burgh of Lochmaben. There he remained till 1S20, amusing himself chiefly with rural sports, when he removed to Edinburgh, and shortly after became acquainted with a young Englishman of the name of Oudney, who had just taken his degree as doctor of medicine in the college. It was at the suggestion of this gentleman that he first turned his thoughts to African discovery. On the return of Captain Lyon from his unsuccessful at- tempt to penetrate Northern Africa, Earl Bathurst, then colonial secretary, relying on the strong assur- ances of his majesty's consul at Tripoli, that the road to the south of Mourzook (the extreme point of Lyon's expedition) was now open, resolved that a second mission should be sent out, to explore this unhappy quarter of the globe. Dr. Oudney was, upon strong recommendations from Edinburgh, ap- pointed to proceed on this expedition, in the capacity of consul at Bornou in Central Africa, being allowed to take Clapperton along with him as a com- panion. About that time, Colonel I )enham having volunteered his services in an attempt to pa>s from Tripoli to Timbuctoo — and it being intended that researches should be made from Bornou, as the fixed residence of the consul to the east and to the west- Lord Bathurst added his name to the expedition. The expedition set out from Tripoli early in 1S22. It advanced in a line nearlv south to Mourzook, which is situated in lat. 25° N. and long. 14° E., and which it reached on the 8th of April. Unfortunately, from various circumstances, it was here found impos- sible to proceed any further this season; and while Denham returned to Tripoli to make new arrange- ments, Oudney and Clapperton made an excursion during June, July, and August, to the westward of Mourzook, into the country of the Tuaricks, which they penetrated to Ghraat, in the eleventh degree of east longitude. On the return of Denham in October, he found Clapperton ill of an ague, and Oudney of a cold, and both were in a very wretched condition. On the 29th of November, however, the whole expedi- tion was able to proceed. Keeping as nearly as possible in a direction due south, and very nearly in the fourteenth degree of east longitude, they arrived in February, 1823, in the kingdom of Bornou, which they found to be a far more powerful and civilized state than they could have formerly be- lieved, the most of the inhabitants professing Ma- hometanism. This, it must be observed, was a part of the world never before known to have been trodden by a European foot. On the 17th the travellers, who went in company with a great African merchant named Boo-Khaloom, reached Kouka. the capital of the country, where the sultan had several thousand well mounted cavalry drawn up to receive them. This city became their head-quarters for the winter; and while Clapperton and Oudney remained there, Denham made an excursion still farther to the south, which he penetrated to Musfeia in latitude 9 15' N., thereby adding in all 14', degrees, or nearly 900 geographical miles, to the European knowledge of Africa in this direction. Afterwards Denham made an excursion with Oudney to Munga and Gambaroo in a western direction. On the 14th of December, 1823, Mr. Clapperton, accompanied by Dr. Oudney, commenced a journey to the west, for the purpose of exploring the course of the Niger, leaving Denham to explore the neigh- bouring shores of the great Lake Chad, which may be called the Caspian of Africa. The two travellers arrived in safety at Murmur, where Oudney, who had previously been very weakly, breathed his last in the arms of his companion. "At any time, in any place," says Clapperton in his narrative, "to be bereaved of such a friend had proved a severe trial; but to me his friend and fellow-traveller, labouring also under disease, and now left alone amid a .strange- people, and proceeding through a country which had hitherto been never trod by European feet, the loss was severe and afflicting in the extreme.' 1 Pro- ceeding on his journey, Clapperton reached Kano, the capital of the kingdom of Houssa, which he entered on the 23d of January, 1824. In general the native chiefs treated him with kindness, partly from a sense of the greatness of his master, the king of Great Britain. On the 10th of Marc:. Jackatoo, a large city in lat. 13' N. ami Ion. <•', I... which was the extreme point of the expedition in that direction. The sultan of this j '.ace treat* with much attention, and was foun i I 1 of no small intelligence, considering hi> situ. "March 10, 1 was sent for," says Clapperton, "by the sultan, and de> I I ' ring with me the 'looking-glass of the sun' my -extant. I fir>t exhibited a • ! heavenly bodies. The sultan knew all the >igns oi the zodiac, some of the . ti"ns, ai ': n the stars, by their Arabic nami -. I '-.-;'■'--- of the sun v. - - ne 1 much surprise. I had to ex] lain ail its appei lages. The inverting telescope was an • bject - f immenso 360 HUGH CLAPPERTON. astonishment; and I had to stand at some little dis- tance, to let the sultan look at me through it, for his people were all afraid of placing themselves within its magical influence. I had next to show him how to take an observation of the sun. The case of the artificial horizon, of which I had lost the key, was sometimes very difficult to open, as happened on this occasion : I asked one of the people near me for a knife to press up the lid. He handed me one quite loo small, and I quite inadvertently asked for a dagger for the same purpose. The sultan was im- mediately thrown into a fright; he seized his sword, and half-drawing it from the scabbard, placed it before him, trembling all the time like an aspen leaf. I did not deem it prudent to take the least notice of his alarm, although it was I who had in reality most cause of fear; and on receiving the dagger, I calmly opened the case, and returned the weapon to its owner with apparent unconcern. When the artificial horizon was arranged, the sultan and all his attend- ants had a peep at the sun; and my breach of etiquette seemed entirely forgotten." The courage and pre- sence of mind of Clapperton are most strikingly displayed in this anecdote. Clapperton was very anxious to have pressed west- wards, in order to fall in with the Niger, which he was told was within five days' journey, and the course of which was described to him by the sultan. But owing to some of those malign jealousies which the slave-trade inspires into the African mind, he was not permitted to proceed. He set out, May 4, on his return to Kouka, which he reached on the 8th of July. Here he was rejoined by Denham, who scarcely knew him, on account of the ravages which illness had committed upon his once manly frame. The two remaining travellers then set out on their return to Tripoli, which, after a harassing journey across the desert, they reached, January 26, 1825, about three years after they had first set foot in Africa. They returned through Italy to Europe, and arrived in England on the 1st of June. The result of this expedition was a work published in 1826, under the title of Narrative of Travels and Discoveries in Northern and Central Africa, in the years 1S22, 1823, and 1824, by Major Denham, F.R.S., Captain Clapperton, and the late Dr. Oud- ney," of which a third edition was published in 1828. The greater part of this work was the composition of Denham, Clapperton only writing a minor part respecting the excursion to Jackatoo, which, how- ever, is not the least interesting in the book. The subject of our memoir wrote in a plain, manly, unaffected style, as might have been expected from his character. The work was published under the immediate superintendence of Major Denham; and it was not the fate of Clapperton ever to see the result of his labours in print. This enterprising person was solicited, immedi- ately after his return, to undertake the management of another expedition to Africa, in company with Captain Pearce of the royal navy, Dr. Morrison, and Mr. Dickson. On this occasion it was projected that he should enter the continent with his com- panions at the Guinea coast, and thence endeavour to reach Jackatoo in a north-easterly direction, so as to make sure of intersecting the Niger. An enter- prising youth, named Richard Lander, applied to Clapperton for permission to join the expedition in any capacity he might think proper. "The captain," we are informed by this individual, in his narrative subsequently published, "listened to me with atten- tion, and, after I had answered a few interrogations, willingly engaged me to be his confidential servant. In this interview," adds Mr. Lander, "the keen, penetrating eye of the African traveller did not escape my observation, and by its fire, energy, and quick- ness, denoted, in my own opinion at least, the very soul of enterprise and adventure." After being in- trusted with an answer from the king to a letter which he had brought from the Sultan Bello of Jackatoo, and with a letter to El Kanemy, the Shiekh of Bornou, Clapperton left England with his company on the 27th August, not three months from the time of his return. Mr. Dickson having been, at his own request, landed at Whydah, the rest disembarked, on the 28th of November, at Badagry in the Bight of Benin. The journey into the interior was commenced on the 7th of December, and Clapperton soon had the pain of seeing his two companions, Pearce and Mor- rison, fall a sacrifice to its hardships. Accompanied by a merchant named Houtson, who joined him as a volunteer, he pursued his enterprise, and on the 15 th of January, 1826, arrived at Katunga, the capital of Youriba. From this point Mr. Houtson returned without molestation, leaving Clapperton and Lander to pursue their journey alone. They soon after crossed the Quorra, or Niger, at Boussa, the place where Park had met his untimely fate. In July the travellers reached Kano, a large city on the line of road which Clapperton had formerly traversed, and here, on the 24th, the latter individual left his ser- vant with the baggage, while he proceeded by himself to Soccatoo. It was the wish of Clapperton to ob- tain permission from Sultan Bello to visit Timbuctoo, and revisit Bornou. But all his plans were frustrated in consequence of Bello having engaged in a war with the Shiekh of Bornou. Clapperton, in his former visit, had presented the latter individual with several Congreve rockets, which he had employed effectually in setting fire to some of the sultan's towns. The traveller also bore, on this occasion, some con- siderable presents from the King of England to the Shiekh of Bornou; and thus every circumstance con- spired to introduce jealousy into the mind of the sultan. Clapperton was detained for several months at Soccatoo in bad health, and Lander was inveigled by the sultan to come also to that city, along with the baggage, in order that the presents intended for Bornou might be intercepted. Lander reached Soccatoo in November, to the surprise of his master, and immediately their baggage was seized in the most shameless manner, and the travellers expressly forbidden to proceed to Bornou. Thus arrested in the midst of his enterprise by the caprice of a barbarous despot, the health of Clapper- ton gave way, and on the 12th of March [1827] he was attacked by dysentery, from which there was no prospect of recovery. The account of his last illness, as detailed by his faithful servant and affectionate friend, Lander, adds a most heart-rending chapter to the mournful history of African travellers who have staked their lives upon the enterprise, and paid the forfeit of failure. The closing scene of all is thus described by the sorrowing survivor: — "On the fol- lowing day [April 2d, 1827] he was greatly altered for the worse, as I had foretold he would be, and expressed regret for not having followed my advice. About twelve o'clock at noon, calling me to his bed- side, he said, — 'Richard 1 I shall shortly be no more ; I feel myself dying.' Almost choked with grief, I replied, 'God forbid! my dear master; you will live many years to come.' 'Do not be so much affected, my dear boy, I entreat you,' rejoined he; 'you dis- tress me by your emotion; it is the will of the Al- mighty, and therefore cannot be helped. Take care of my journal and papers after my decease; and when you arrive in London, go immediately to my agents, HUGH CLAPPERTOX. 3Ci and send for my uncle, who will accompany you to tha colonial office, and see you deposit them with the secretary. After my body is laid in the earth, apply to Hello, and borrow money to purchase camels and provisions for crossing the desert to Fezzan, in the train of the Arab merchants. On your arrival at Mourzuk, should your money be expended, send a messenger to Mr. Warrington, our consul forTripoli, and wait till he returns with a remittance. On your reaching the latter place, that gentleman will further advance you what money you may require, and send you to England the first opportunity. Do not lum- ber yourself with my books, but leave them behind, as well as my barometer and sticks, and indeed every heavy or cumbersome article you can conveniently part with; you may give them to Malam Mudey, who will preserve them. Remark whatever towns or villages you may pass through, and put on paper anything re- markable that the chiefs of the different places may say to you.' I said, as well as my agitation would permit me, 'If it be the will of God to take you, sir, you may confidently rely, as far as circumstances will permit me, on my faithfully performing all that you have desired; but I hope and believe that the Al- mighty will yet spare you to see your home and country again.' 'I thought at one time,' continued he, 'that that would be the case, but I dare not entertain such hopes now ; death is on me, and I shall not be long for this world; God's will be done.' He then took my hand betwixt his, and looking me full in the face, while a tear glistened in his eye, said in a tremulous melancholy tone: 'My dear Richard, if you had not been with me I should have died long ago. I can only thank you with my latest breath for your devotedness and attachment to me; and if I could live to return to England with you, you should be placed beyond the reach of want; the Al- mighty, however, will reward you.' "This pathetic conversation, which occupied almost two hours, greatly exhausted my master, and he fainted several times while speaking. The same evening he fell into a slumber, from which he awoke in much perturbation, and said that he had heard with peculiar distinctness the tolling of an English funeral bell; but 1 entreated him to be composed, observing that sick people frequently fancy things which in reality can have no existence. He shook his head, but said nothing. "About six o'clock on the morning of the nth April, on my asking him how he did, my master replied in a cheerful tone that he felt much better; and requested to be shaved. He had not sufficient strength to lift his head from the pillow; and after finishing one side of the face I was obliged myself to tarn his head in order to get at the other. As soon t.s he was shaved he desired me to fetch him a look- ing-glass which hung on the opposite side of the hut; and on seeing the reflection of his face in it, observed that he looked quite as ill in Bornou on his former i mrney, and that as he had borne his disorder for so long a time, there was some possibility of his yet recovering. ( )n the following day he still fancied himself to be convalescent, in which belief I myself agreed, as he was enabled to partake of a little hashed guinea-fowl in the course of the afternoon, which he had not done before during the whole of his confinement, having derived his sole sustenance from a little foul-soup, and milk and water. "These flattering anticipations, however, speedily vanished, for on the morning of the 13th, being awake, I was greatly alarmed on hearing a peculiar rattling noise issuing from my master's throat, and his breathing at the same time was loud and difficult. At that moment, on his calling out 'Richard:' in a low, hurried, and singular tone, I was instantly at his side, and was astonished beyond measure on behold- ing him sitting upright in hi-> bed (not having been able for a long time previously to move a limb), and staring wildly around. Observing him ineffectually struggling to raise himself on h:s feet, I clasped him in my arms, and whilst I thus held him, could feel his heart palpitating violently. Mis throes became every moment less vehement, and at last they en- tirely ceased, insomuch that thinking he had fallen into a slumber, or was overpowered by faintings, I placed his head gently on my left shoulder, gazing for an instant on his pale and altered features; some indistinct expressions quivered on his lips, and whilst he vainly strove to give them utterance, his heart ceased to vibrate, and his eyes closed for ever! "I held the lifeless body in my arms for a short period, overwhelmed with grief; nor could I bring myself to believe that the soul which had animated it with being a few moments before had actually quitted it. I then unclasped my arms, and held the hand of my dear master in mine; but it was cold and dead, and instead of returning the warmth with which I used to press it, imparted some of its own unearthly dullness to my frame, and fell heavily from my grasp. O God! what was my distress in that agonizing moment? Shedding floods of tears, I flung myself along the bed of death, and prayed that Heaven would in mercy take my life." By the permission of Sultan Bello, Mr. Lander buried his fellow-traveller at Jungavie, about five miles south-east from Soccatoo. After describing the mournful scene, he thus proceeds to draw the character of his master: — ■ "No one could be better qualified than Captain Clapperton by a fearless, indomitable spirit, and utter contempt of danger and death, to undertake and carry into execution an enterprise of so great importance and difficulty as the one with which lie was intrusted. He had studied the African character in all its phases — in its moral, social, and external form; and, like Alcibiades, accommodated himself with equal ease to good, as well as to bad fortune — to prosperity, as well as to adversity. He was never highly elated at the prospect of accomplishing his darling wishes — the great object of his ambition — nor deeply depressed when environed by danger, care, disappointment, and bodily suffering, which. hanging heavily upon him, forbade him to indulge in hopeful anticipations. The negro loved him, be- cause he admired the simplicity of his manners, and mingled with pleasure in his favourite dance; the Arab hated him, because he was overawed by his commanding appearance, and because the keen penetrating glance of the British captain detected his guilty thoughts, and made him quail with appre- hension and fear. "Captain Clapperton's stature was tall; his dis- position was warm and benevolent; his temper mild, even, and cheerful ; while his ingenuous 1 countenance portrayed the generous emotions that reigned in his breast. In fine, he united tl e figure and determination of a man with the gentleness and simplicity of a child; and. if I mistake 11 :. e will live in the memorv of manv th Usan Is ol A until they cease to breathe, . mortal; nor have I the his visiting their country v. . as a new era. from which aii that affect them, will h The surviving travi .. r \ Soccatoo a few days altcrw way to Badagry. I le rea after almost incrc lil ! i:ng :: ■ : I Us I 1 :" I 1 ^n the ■ coast :. . r turning GEORGE CLEGHORN WILLIAM CLELAND. safely to England, prepared for the press a work, entitled Records of Captain Clapperton! s Last Ex- pedition to Africa, which appeared in 1830, in two volumes 121110. Before the publication of this book, Mr. Lander had set out on another expedition, in company with his younger brother John; and pur- suing nearly the same route as that of Captain Clapperton, again reached the Niger at Boussa. It was an impression of Mr. Lander, that that river ran into the Bight of Benin, and he had, on his return, endeavoured to prove the fact by descending the stream, but was prevented by the natives. He now fairly settled the question by sailing down the river, and entering the sea by the outlet which is marked on the maps by the name of Nun. Thus was a youth of about twenty-six years of age at last suc- cessful in solving a problem which many older ami better instructed men had failed to expound. It is to be allowed, however, that Clapperton is in- directly entitled to a large share of this honour, as it was he who introduced Lander to the field of African adventure, and who inspired him with the desire, and invested him with the accomplishments, necessary for the purpose. CLEGHORN, George, a learned physician, was the son of a farmer at Granton, in the parish of Cramond, near Edinburgh ; and was born there on the 13th of December, 1716. In 1719 the father of Dr. Cleghorn died, leaving a widow and five chil- dren. George, who was the youngest, received the rudiments of his education at the parish school, and in 1728 was sent to Edinburgh, to be further in- structed in Latin, French, and Greek; where, to a singular proficiency in those languages, he added a considerable stock of mathematical knowledge. At the age of fifteen he commenced the study of physic and surgery, and had the good fortune to be placed under the tuition of the illustrious Monro, and under his roof. For five years he continued to profit by the instruction and example of his great master; at the same time he attended the lectures on botany, chemistry, materia medica, and the theory and prac- tice of medicine; and by extraordinary diligence he attracted the notice of all his preceptors. He was at this time the intimate friend and fellow-student of the celebrated Fothergill, in conjunction with whom, and a few other young men, he established the Royal Medical Society of Edinburgh. So great was the distinction of Cleghorn, even as a student, that, when little more than nineteen years of age, he was ap- pointed, by the recommendation of Dr. St. Clair, .surgeon to the 22d regiment of foot, then stationed at .Minorca, under the command of General St. Clair. During the thirteen years which he spent in that island, he applied himself most diligently to his improvement in medical and anatomical studies, in which he was much assisted by his friend Fothergill, who sent him out such books as he required from London. On leaving Minorca, in 1749, he went with the regiment to Ireland; and next year he re- paired to London, in order to give to the world the fruit of some of his observations, in a work entitled y'/ic Diseases of Minorca. This work not only ex- hibits an accurate statement of the air, but a minute detail of the vegetable productions, of the island; and concludes with medical observations, important in every point of view, and in some instances either new, or applied in a manner which preceding practi- tioners had not admitted. The medical world was indebted to Dr. Cleghorn for proving the advantage of acescent vegetables in low, putrid, and remittent fevers, and the copious use of bark, which had been interdicted from mistaken facts, deduced from fabc theories. While superintending the publication of this work, Dr. Cleghorn attended the anatomical lectures of Dr. Hunter; and on his return to Dublin, where he settled in practice in I75L he began to give a similar course himself, and was the first per- son that established what could with propriety be considered an anatomical school in Ireland. Some years afterwards he was admitted into the university as lecturer on anatomy. From this period till his death, in December, 1789, Dr. Cleghorn lived in the enjoyment of a high and lucrative practice, the duties of which he varied and relieved by a taste for farming and horticulture, and by attentions to the family of a deceased brother which he undertook to support. In private life Dr. Cleghorn is said to have been as amiable and worthy as in his pro- fessional life he was great. He was enabled before his death to acquire considerable estates in the county of Meath, of which his nephew, George Cleghorn, of Kilcarty, was high-sheriff in the year 1794. CLELAND, William, the troubadour, as he may be called, of the Covenanters, was born about the year 1661, having been just twenty-eight years of age at his death, in 1689. When only eighteen he held command as a captain in the covenanting army at Drumclog and Bothwell Bridge. It would thus appear likely that he was born in a respectable grade of society. He seems to have stepped directly from the university into the field of arms ; for it is known that he was at college just before completing his eighteenth year; at which age he enjoyed the rank above-mentioned in the Whig army. Although Cleland probably left the country after the affair at Bothwell, he is found spending the summer of 1685 in hiding, among the wilds of Clydesdale and Ayr- shire, having perhaps returned in the unfortunate expedition of the Earl of Argyle. Whether he again retired to the Continent is not known; but, after the Revolution, he reappears on the stage of public life, in the character of lieutenant-colonel of the Earl of Angus' regiment, called the Cameronian regiment, in consequence of its having been raised out of that body of men, for the purpose of protecting the con- vention parliament. That Cleland had now seen a little of the world appears from a poem, entitled "Some Lines made by him upon the Observation of the Vanity of Worldly Honours, after he had been at several Princes' Courts." 1 It is a strong mark of the early popularity of Hudi- bras, that, embodying though it did the sarcasms of a cavalier against the friends of civil and religious liberty, it nevertheless travelled into Scotland, and inspired with the principle of imitation a poet of the entirely opposite party. Cleland, who, before he left college, had written some highly fanciful verses, of which we have preserved a copy below, 2 composed 1 We also observe, in Watt's Bibliothcca Britafinica, tt.at he published Disputatio yuridica tie Probationibus, at Utrecht, in 1684; which would imply that he studied civil law at that celebrated seminary. - These form part of a poem entitled "Hollo, my Fancy," which was printed in Watson's Collation of Scottish J'oaus, at the beginning of the last century: — " In conceit like Phaeton, I'll mount Phcebus' chair, Having ne'er a hat on, All my hair a-burning, In my journeying, Hurrying through tin- air. Fain would I hear his fiery horses neighing ' And see how they on foamy bits are pla; in :' A'.l the stars and planets I will he surveying! Hollo, my fancy, whither wilt thou go? "O, from what ground of nature Doth the pelican, WILLIAM CLELAND JOHN CLERK. 3<"'3 a poem in the Hudibrastic style, upon the celehrated expedition of the Highland host which took place in 1678. His object was to satirize both the men who composed this expedition and those who directed it to take place. It chiefly consists in a ludicrous account of the outlandish appearance, senseless man- ners, and oppressive conduct of the northern army. So far as satire could repay the rank cruelty of that mode of constraining men's consciences, it was re- paid—for the poem is full of poignant sarcasm, ex- pressed in language far above the poetical diction of that day, at least in Scotland. It was not published, however, till 1697, nearly twenty years after the inci- dent which called it forth, when at length it appeared in a small volume, along with several other poems by the same author. Colonel Cleland was not destined long to enjoy his command in the Cameronian regiment, or the better times which the Revolution had at length introduced. In August, 16S9, the month after the battle of Killiecrankie, he was sent with his men to take post at Dunkeld, in order to prepare the way for a second invasion of the Highlands. The re- mains of that army which Dundee had led to victory, but without gaining its fruits, gathered suddenly into the neighbourhood, and, on the 2 1st of August, made a most determined attack upon the town. Cleland, though he had only 800 men to oppose to 4000, resolved to fight it out to the last, telling his men that, if they chose to desert him, he would stand out by himself, for the honour of the regiment and the good cause in which he was engaged. The sol- diers were animated so much by his eloquence and ex- ample, that they withstood the immense odds brought against them, and finally caused the Highlanders to retire discomfited, leaving about 300 men behind them. Perhaps there was not a single skirmish or battle during the whole of the war of liberty, from 1639 to 16S9, which conferred more honour on either party than this affair of Dunkeld. Cleland, to whom so much of the glory was due, unfortunately fell in the action, at the early age of twenty-eight. He was employed in encouraging his soldiers in front of Dunkeld House, when two bullets pierced his head and one his liver simultaneously. He turned about, and endeavoured to get back into the house, in order that his death might not discourage his men; but he fell before reaching the threshold. It is stated by the editor of the Border Minstrelsy, but we know not with what authority, that this brave officer was the father of a second Colonel Cle- land, who flourished in the beau monde at London in the reign of Queen Anne and George I., and who, besides enjoying the honour of having his character embalmed in the Spectator under the delightful fiction of Will. Honeycomb, was the author of a letter to Pope prefixed to the Dunciad. The son of this latter gentleman was also a literary character, but one of no good fame. John Cleland, to whom we are alluding, was born in 1709, and received a good education at Westminster School, where he was the contemporary of Lord Mansfield. He went on some mercantile pursuit to Smyrna, where he perhaps imbibed those loose principles which afterwards tarnished his literary reputation. After his return from the Mediterranean, he went to That self- levouring creature, Prove so froward And untoward Her vitals for to strain ! An 1 why the subtle fox, while in death's wounds lying, ]' -th not lament his wounds by howling and by crying ' And why the milk-white swan doth sing when she's a-dying ! H ill >. my fancy, whither wilt thou go!" L-CC. cCC. &c. the Ea>t Indies, but, quarrelling with some of the memljcrs of the presidency of Bombay, he made a precipitate retreat from the East, with little or no advantage to his fortune. After living for some time in London, in a state little short of destitution, he was tempted by a bookseller, for the sum of twenty guineas, to write a novel of a singularly indecent character, which was published in 1749, in two volumes, and had so successful a run that the profits are said to have exceeded .£10,000. It is related that, having been called before the privy- council for this offence, he pleaded his destitute circumstances as his only excuse, which induced the president, Lord Granville, to buy the pen of the unfortunate author over to the side of virtue, by granting him a pension of /"ioo a year. He lived many years upon this income, which he aided by writing occasional pieces in the newspapers, and also by the publication of various works ; but in none of these was he very successful. He published a novel called the Man of Honour, as an amende honorable for his flagitious work, and also a work entitled the Memoirs of a Coxcomb. His political essays, which appeared in the public prints under the signatures Modestus, a Briton, &c, are said to have been somewhat heavy and dull. He wrote some philological tracts, chiefly relating to the Celtic language. But it was in songs and novels that he chiefly shone; and yet not one of these compositions has continued popular to the present day. In the latter part of his life he lived in a retired manner in Petty France, Westminster, where he had a good library; in which hung a portrait of his father, indi- cating all the manners and dabord of the fashionable town-rake at the beginning of the eighteenth century. Though obliged to live frugally, in order that he might not exceed his narrow income, Mr. Cleland occasionally received visits from his friends, to whom his conversation, enriched by many observations of foreign travel and all the literary anecdote of the past century, strongly recommended him. He spoke with fluency the languages of Italy and France, through which countries, as well as Spain and Portu- gal, he had travelled on his return from the br.-t Indies. He died in his hou>e in Little France, January 23, 1 7S9, at the age of eighty. CLERK, JOHN, of Eldin, inventor of some in- valuable improvements in the modem system of naval tactics, was the sixth son of Sir John Clerk of Pennycuick, Baronet, who tilled the situation of a baron in his majesty's Scottish exchequer between the years 1707 and 1755, and was one of the most enlightened men of his age and country. The mother of John Clerk was Janet Inglis, daughter of Sir John Inglis of Cramond. He appears at an early period of his life to have inherited from his father the estate of Eldin, in the neighbourhood of Pennycuick, and southern part of the county c f Edinburgh, and to have married Mi-- Su>anr.a Adam, si>ter of the celebrated architects, 1 y wli 1 1 he had several children. The private life oi Mr. Clerk of Eldin presents as few incidents a- I most country gentlemen. He was distinguis-he 1 chiefly by his extraordinary conccj I - - ject of naval tactics, the birth and growth of which are thus described by the late Profe.-s r i ivfair. n the fragment of a life' of John < ".■ :'. in the Transactions of the A\ : it S v \'\ r ' /.'./.■ ■ , ; • . h :- - "From his early youth a :' : to have directed his mind to naval affairs. It is always interesting to observe invisible causes from which gen:-.:- receives its fir.-t impulses, an i often its m -t durable imprest : -. 3 6 4 JOHN CLERK. 'I had (says he) 1 acquired a strong passion for nautical affairs when a mere child. At ten years old, before I had seen a ship, or even the sea at a less distance than four or five miles, I formed an acquaintance at school with some boys who had come from a distant seaport, who instructed me in the different parts of a ship from a model which they had procured. I had afterwards frequent opportuni- ties of seeing and examining ships at the neighbour- ing port of Leith, which increased my passion for the subject ; and I was soon in possession of a number of models, many of them of my own con- struction, which I used to sail on a piece of water in my father's pleasure-grounds, where there was also a boat with sails, which furnished me with much employment. I had studied Robitison Crusoe, and I read all the sea voyages I could procure.' "The desire of going to sea," continues Mr. Tlay- fair, "which could not but arise out of these exer- cises, was forced to yield to family considerations; but fortunately for his country, the propensity to naval affairs, and the pleasure derived from the study of them, were not to be overcome. He had indeed prosecuted the study so far, and had become so well acquainted with naval affairs, that, as he tells us himself, he had begun to study the difficult problem of the way of a ship to windward. This was about the year 1770, when an ingenious and intelligent gentleman, the late commissioner Edgar, came to reside in the neighbourhood of Mr. Clerk's seat in the country. Mr. Edgar had served in the army, and with the company under his command had been put on board Admiral Byng's ship at Gibraltar, in order to supply the want of marines; so that he was present in the action off the island of Minorca, on the 20th of May, 1 756. As the friend of Admiral Boscawen, he afterwards accompanied that gallant offi- cer in the more fortunate engagement of Lagoo Bay." To what extent Mr. Clerk was indebted for his nautical knowledge to this gentleman we are not informed; but it appears that previous to the year 1779 he had become very extensively and accurately acquainted with both the theory and practice of naval tactics. The department to which Mr. Clerk more particularly applied his active genius was the difficulty of bringing the enemy to action. The French, when they met a British fleet eager for battle, always contrived, by a series of skilful man- oeuvres, to elude the blow, and to pursue the object of their voyage, either parading on the ocean, or transporting troops and stores for the attack and defence of distant settlements ; and thus wresting from the British the fair fruits of their superior gal- lantry, even while they paid a tacit tribute to that gallantry by planning a defensive system to shelter themselves from its effects; in which they succeeded so well that the fleets of Britain and France generally parted after some indecisive firing. Mr. Clerk now assured himself from mathematical evidence that the plan followed by the British of attacking an enemy's fleet at once, from van to rear, exposed the advancing ships to the formidable battery of the whole adverse fleet; by which means they were crippled and disabled either for action or pursuit, while the enemy might bear away and repeat the same manoeuvre, until their assailants are tired out by such a series of fruitless attacks. This Scottish gentleman, in the solitude of his country-house, where after dinner he would get up a mimic fight with bits of cork upon the table, discovered the grand principle of attack which Buonaparte after- 1 Preface to the second edition of his Essay on ,\'u Tactics, 1804. wards brought into such successful practice by land — that is to say, he saw the absurdity of an attacking force extending itself over the whole line of the enemy, by which the amount of resistance became everywhere as great as the force of attack ; when it was possible, by bringing the force to bear upon a particular point, and carrying that by an irresistible weight, to introduce confusion and defeat over the whole. He conceived various plans for this purpose; one was to fall upon the rear vessels of the enemy, and endeavour to disable him, as it were; another and more splendid idea was to direct the line of attacking vessels through the line of those attacked; and by doubling in upon the ships cut off, which of course must strike to so superior a force, reduce the strength of the enemy, and even subject the remain- ing ships to the risk of falling successively a prey, as they awkwardly endeavoured to beat up to the rescue of their companions. At the time when he was forming these speculations, the British arms suffered great depression both by sea and land. A series of great and ill-directed efforts, if they had not exhausted, had so far impaired, the strength and resources of the country, that neighbouring nations thought they had found a favourable opportunity for breaking the power and humbling the pride of a formidable rival. In the naval rencounters which took place after France had joined herself to America, the superiority of the British navy seemed almost to disappear; the naval armies of our enemies were every day gaining strength; the number and force of their ships were augmenting; the skill and experience of their seamen appeared to be coming nearer an equality with our own. All this was owing to the generous waste of strength which the British commanders had under- gone in their gallant but vain attempts to come to a fair engagement with the enemy. "Being fully satisfied," says Mr. Playfair, "as to the principles of his system, Mr. Clerk had begun to make it known to his friends so early as 1779- After the trial of Admiral Keppell had brought the whole proceedings of the affair off Ushant before the public, Mr. Clerk made some strictures on the action, which* he put in writing, illustrating them by drawings and plans, containing sketches of what might have been attempted if the attack had been regulated by other principles, and these he communicated to several naval officers, and to his friends both in Edinburgh and London. In the following year [January, 1780] he visited London himself, and had many conferences with men connected with the navy, among whom he has mentioned Mr. Atkinson, the particular friend of Sir George Rodney, the admiral who was now pre- paring to take the command of the fleet in the West Indies. A more direct channel of communication with Admiral Rodney was the late Sir Charles Douglas, who went out several months after the ad- miral, in order to serve as his captain, and did actu- ally serve in that capacity in the memorable action of the 12th of April, 1782. Sir Charles, before leaving Britain, had main' conversations with Mr. Clerk on the subject of naval tactics, and before he sailed was in complete possession of that system. Some of the conferences with Sir Charles were by appointment of the late Dr. Blair of Westminster, and at one of these interviews were present Mr. William and Mr. James Adam, with their nephew, the late lord chief commissioner for Scotland. Sir Charles had commanded the Stirling Castle in Keppell's engagement, and Mr. Clerk now communi- cated to him the whole of his strictures on that action, with the plans and demonstrations on which the manner of the attack from the leeward was fully developed. JOHN CLERK. 365 "The matter which Sir Charles seemed most un- willing to admit was the advantage of the attack from that quarter; and it was indeed the thing most inconsistent with the instructions given to all admirals. "Lord Rodney himself, however, was more easily convinced, and in the action off Martinico, in April, 1780, the original plan seemed regulated by the prin- ciples of the Naval Tactics. ... It was not till two years afterwards, in April, 1 782, that Lord Rodney gave the first example of completely breaking through the line of the enemy, and of the signal success which will ever accompany that manoeuvre when skilfully conducted. The circumstances were very remarkable, and highly to the credit of the gal- lantry as well as conduct .of the admiral. The British fleet was to leeward, and its van, on reaching the centre of the enemy, bore away as usual along his line; and had the same been done by all the ships that followed, the ordinary indecisive result would infallibly have ensued. But the Formidable, Lord Rodney's own ship, kept close to the wind, and on perceiving an opening near the centre of the enemy, broke through at the head of the rear division, so that, for the first time, the enemy's line was com- pletely cut in two, and all the consequences produced which Mr. Clerk had predicted. This action, which introduced a new system, gave a new turn to our affairs at sea, and delivered the country from that state of depression into which it had been thrown, not by the defeat of its fleets, but by the entire want of success. "It was in the beginning of this year that the [Essay on] Naval Tactics appeared in print, though, for more than a year before, copies of the book had been in circulation among Mr. Clerk's friends. 1 Im- mediately on the publication, copies were presented to the minister and the first lord of the admiralty; and the Duke of Montague, who was a zealous friend of Mr. Clerk's system, undertook the office of present- ing a copy to the king. •'Lord Rodney, who had done so much to prove the utility of this system, in conversation never con- cealed the obligation he felt to the author of it. Before going out to take the command of the fleet in the West Indies, he said one day to Mr. Dundas, afterwards Lord Melville, 'There is one Clerk, a countryman of yours, who has taught us how to fight, and appears to know more of the matter than any of us. If ever I meet the French fleet, I intend to try his way.' "lie held the same language after his return. Lord Melville used often to meet him in society, and particularly at the house of Mr. Henry Drummond, where he talked very unreservedly of the Naval Tactics, and of tiie use he had made of the system in his action of the 1 2th of April. A letter from ( leneral Ross states very particularly a conversation of the same kind, at which he was present. 'It is,' says the general, 'with an equal degree of pleasure and truth that I now commit to writing what you heard me sav in company at your house, to wit, that at the table of the late Sir John I tailing, where I was in the habit of (.lining often, and meeting Lord Rodney, I heard his lordship distinctly state, that he owed his success in the West Indies to the manoeuvre of breaking the line, which he learned from Mr. Clerk's bjok. This honourable and liberal confession of the gallant admiral made so deep an impression on me, that I can never forget it; and I am pleased to think that my recollection of the cir- 1 Fifty copies were printed of this ctliti >n, and distril lite I in a private way. The work was n >t published for sa!e till 1790. The editi m of that year is therefore styled they."'-. .-, and that of iio( the second editi a. cumstance can be of the smallest use to a man with whom I am not acquainted, but who, in my opinion, has deserved well of his country."' Mr. Playfair then proceeds to mention a copy of Mr. Clerk's Essay, on which Lord Rodney had written many marginal notes, full of remarks on the justness of Mr. Clerk's views, and on the instances wherein his own conduct had been in strict con- formity with those views; and which cony of the Essay is now deposited in the family library at Pennycuick. The learned professor next relates "an anecdote which sets a seal on the great and de- cisive testimony of the noble admiral. The j 1 [now late] Lord Haddington met Lord Rodney at Spa, in the decline of life, when both his bodily and his mental powers were sinking under the weight of years. The great commander, who had been the bulwark of his country, and the terror of her enemies, lay stretched on his couch, while the memory of his own exploits seemed the only thing that interested his feelings, or afforded a subject for conversation. In this situation he would often break out in praise of the Naval Tactics, exclaiming with great earnest- ness, 'John Clerk of Eldin for ever.' Generosity and candour seemed to have been such constituent elements in the mind of this gallant admiral, that they were among the parts which longest resisted the influence of decay." Mr. Playfair then details some of the victories of the succeeding war, in which Mr. Clerk's system had been pursued. The great action fought by Lord Howe, on the 1st of June, 1794, was, in its manage- ment, quite conformable to that system, and its suc- cess entirely owing to the manoeuvre of breaking the line. Mr. Playfair mentions that Mr. James Clerk, the youngest son of the author of the Essay, and who was a midshipman on board Lord Howe's ship, in 1793, had a copy of the recent edition of the work, "which was borrowed by Captain Christian, no doubt for the admiral's use." Lord St. Vincent, who possessed a copy of the book, also gained the famous battle off the coast of Spain by breaking the line of the enemy — as did Lord Duncan the more important victory of Camperdown. But the grandest testimony of all to the excellence of Mr. Clerk's system, was the battle of Trafalgar, which finally set at rest the dominion of Britain over the sea. Lord Nelson's instructions on that occasion contained some entire sentences out of the /; Naval Tactics. And it must also be mentione '. that, in his splendid victory of the Nile, he ha 1 j ur- sucd the same system. We have hitherto pursued the train of demonstra- tion favourable to Mr. Clerk, and to the originality and utility of his system; it must now be mentione ! that a controversy, menacing the better part of his reputation, has arisen since his decease. The family of Rodney, in a late publication of his ir. avow the claim made by the friends of Mr. Clerk, and maintain that no communication of that ,. man's plan was ever made to their relative, or 1 he had the least knowledge of any such bo as that of Mr. Clerk. Imme liately at"; cation of this disavowal. Sir Howari 1 of the late Sir Charles Douglas, who was R : ■'- captain at the time of the vict >ry. rd. in a pamphlet, supported bv autli .' '-. ' claim the honour on behalf of his l.-.tiv :". It v. - . be vain to enter into a fu ' Ir - versy which has arisen on this -•-.' ' ; ; the :.-'./ seems to be. that Mr. ( '1 rk's -■ ivt proved that Lord Rodrie) . idea enemv's line, on the \z\\\ <erof killed and wounded, while himself had a narrow escape, his hat being knocked off his head by a grape-shot. So important were his services on this occasion, that he- received the thanks of both Houses of Parliament, and of the corporation of London; while the latter, not confining itself to verbal acknowledgments, pre- sented him with the honour of the city, and a sword of the value of a hundred guineas. This was not all; for the underwriters at Barbadoes presented him with a piece of plate valued at .£500; and the committee of the Patriotic Fund at Lloyd's with a vase worth ,£300. The honour of knighthood crowned these rewards of his highly-valued achievements, and on the 29th of March, 1806, he was created Knight of the Bath. Nothing could more highly attest the estimation in which his exploit at St. Domingo was held, than that so many acknowledgments should have rewarded it, at a season, too, when gallant actions at sea were events of everyday occurrence. Soon after, war was declared against Denmark; and on hearing of this, Sir A. Cochrane concerted measures with General Bowyer for the reduction of St. Thomas, St. John's, and St. Croix, islands be- longing to the Danish crown. In a few months the whole were captured, along with a valuable fleet of Danish merchantmen. His next service was in the reduction of Martinique, where he co-operated with General Beckwith ; and for this acquisition he and his gallant land partner received the thanks of both Houses of Parliament. The reduction of Guadaloupe followed, in which both commanders joined, and were equally successful; and in 1S10 Cochrane, in reward of his services, was appointed governor and commander-in-chief of Guadaloupe and its depen- dencies. In this situation he continued till 1S13, when a war with the United States called him once more into action. He was appointed to the com- mand of the fleet on the coast of North America, and on assuming office, he shut up and watched the ports of the United States with a most vigilant and effectual blockade. Soon after this the universal peace ensued, and in 1S15 Sir Alexander Cochrane returned to England. He was raised to the rank of full admiral in 1S19, and held the office of com- mander-in-chief at Plymouth from 1S21 to 1S24. The brave old admiral, like the rest of Iris c ■ :.- temporaries of the land and sea service, was now obliged to change a life of action for the tranquillity of home and the pleasures of social intercourse; and he passed the rest of his days honoured and beloved by all who knew him. His death, which occurred at Paris, was fearfully sudden. Accompanied by Ids brother lie went, on the morning of the 26th : January, 1S32, to visit his daughter, Lady Trow- bridge, for the purpose of inviting his young : children to an evening entertainment; but while he was affectionately caressing them, lie s.. started, placed his hand on his left si . claiming to Mr. Cochrane, '•() br tl r, dreadful pain!'' he fell back into his arms, . :. i in- stantly exj ired. COCHRANE, ARCHir.Ai.n. ninth Earl donald, a nobleman di-tinguished hy h;- scientific investigations, was the s - f -. tl.e eighth earl, by jai . r of Archil aid >i of Torrence; and was i»t <>t January, 1748. Hislordshij . bef '•■ ■ ' public life as a cornet in the 3 i an- r.s. whi.h com- tfS ARCHIBALD COCHRANE THOMAS COCHRANE. mission he afterwards abandoned, in order to become a midshipman under his countryman Captain Stair Douglas. While stationed as acting-lieutenant in a vessel off the coast of Guinea, he had occasion to observe the liability of vessels to be rotted by the sea, which in some cases was so very great, that a few months was sufficient to render them not sea- worthy. He conceived the idea of laying them over with tar extracted from coal, a substance which was then little known, though now identified with the very idea of marine craft. The experiment was first tried in Holland, and found to answer all the pur- poses required. Being then tried upon a decked boat at the Nore, and found equally answerable, his lordship procured a patent of his invention for a short term, which was afterwards (1785) changed for an act of parliament, vesting it in him and his heirs for twenty years. Unfortunately, the general adoption of copper-sheathing rendered the speculation not only abortive, but ruinous to the inventor, who had burdened all his estates in order to raise the neces- sary works. His lordship had succeeded to the family honours in 1778. In 1785 he published two pamphlets — one entitled The Present State of the Manufacture of Salt Explained; the other, An Ac- count of the Qualities and. Uses of Coal Tar and Coal Varnish. In 1795 his lordship published a treatise showing the intimate connection between agriculture and chemistry, and in 1807 he obtained a patent for improvements in spinning machinery. It unfortun- ately happened that his lordship's inventions,although all of them seemed to tend to the public good, proved unprofitable to himself. The latter half of his long life was, on this account, spent in embarrassments and privations which may well excite our sympathy. His lordship was thrice married; first to Anne, daughter of Captain Gilchrist of Annsfield, R.N.; secondly, to Isabella, daughter of Samuel Raymond, Esq. of Bekhrimp, in Essex; thirdly, to Anna Maria Plowden, daughter of the well-known historian of Ireland. By the first of these unions he had six sons, the eldest of whom, under the designation of Lord Cochrane, distinguished himself by his gallant naval achievements in the war of the French revolu- tion. The following remarks were made in allusion t ) this noble and unfortunate votary of science, in the annual address of the registrars of the Literary Fund S iciety, in the year 1823: — "A man born in the high class of the old British peerage has devoted his acute and investigating mind solely to the prosecution of science; and his powers have prevailed in the pursuit. The discoveries ef- fected by his scientific research, with its direction altogether to utility, have been in many instances beneficial to the community, and in many have been the sources of wealth to individuals. To himself alone they have been unprofitable; for with a superior disdain, or (if you please) a culpable disregard of the g )')ds of fortune, lie has scattered around him the produce of his intellect with a lavish ami wild hand. If we may use \hi consecrated words of an apostle, 'though poor, he hath made many rich,' and though in the immediate neighbourhood of wealth, he ha^ been doomed to suffer, through a long series of laborious years, the severities of want. In his ad- vanced age he found an estimable woman, in poverty, it is true, like himself, but of unspotted character, and of high though untitled family, to participate the calamity of his fortunes; and with her virtues and prudence, assisted by a small pension which she obtained from the benevolence of the crown, she- threw a gleam of light over the dark decline of his day. She was soon, however, torn from him by death, and, with an infant which she bequeathed to him, he was abandoned to destitution and distress (for the pension was extinguished with her life). To this man, thus favoured by nature, and thus perse- cuted by fortune, we have been happy to offer some little alleviation of his sorrows; and to prevent him from breathing his last under the oppressive sense of the ingratitude of his species." The Earl of Dundonald died in poverty at Paris on the 1st of July 1831, at the advanced age of eighty-three years. COCHRANE, The Hon. Thomas, Earl of Dun- donald and Baron Cochrane. This gallant ocean hero and successful admiral — whom we commemorate by the simple title under which his remarkable deeds were wrought, and who made the name of "Lord Cochrane" so illustrious that the higher rank which he finally attained could not aggrandize it — was the eldest son of Archibald, ninth Earl of Dundonald, of whom a notice has been given in the preceding article. He was born on the 14th December, 1775, at Anns- field, Lanarkshire. The family of Cochrane was descended from that architect of the name who was the chief favourite of James III., and whose superior share of the royal favour only procured him a higher gibbet than the rest, when all the king's favourites were summarily hanged by the revolted Scottish nobles at the Bridge of Lauder. Although that branch of his descendants from whom our naval hero was derived was ennobled by Charles I., and finally raised to the earldom of Dundonald at the Restor- ation, a series of political fines and forfeitures, combined with personal improvidence and misman- agement, had so dilapidated the family estates that little else remained to the Cochranes but the high hereditary title. This descending career of poverty was at last completed by the Earl of Dundonald, the father of the subject of our memoir, whose enthusiastic devotedness to science, and the expen- sive experiments into which it led him, involved the family in utter bankruptcy. -So hopeless indeed was their condition that the earl's children owed their early education to the gratuitous labours of the minister of Culross, to which parish the latter had been presented by the earl, who held the patronage of the living. This kind interposition was also sup- plemented by the maternal grandmother of the boys. who provided them with a tutor from her own scanty revenues. Thus, while the carl's splendid discoveries in science were either overlooked, or pirated by those who were more skilful in turning them to a practical or profitable account, his children were obliged to depend upon the kindness of others for even the means of an ordinary education. It was no wonder if, in his subsequent naval captures, Lord Cochrane could occasionally have an eye to the advantages of prize-money. As the present destination of the heir to a noble title and nothing else was a question of some import- ance, the father selected the army for his son, as his best chance of rising in the world ; but Thomas, who already had a will of his own, and a preference to the element on which he was to shine, chose the navy. This contrariety led to a game at cross pur- poses, in which, however amusing it might look, a great hero was to be made or marred. The earl obtained for him an army commission ; but the youth's uncle, Sir Alexander Cochrane, had already destined him for the sea, and put his name on the books of the several ships which he had successively commanded. In this way Lord Cochrane, without any effort of his own, found himself at one and the same time an army ensign and a navy midshipman — the last-mentioned commission not being of yes- THOMAS COCHRANE. 3^9 tenlay neither, but of some standing. To put an end to this amphibious condition, the father thrust him into regimentals, that he might march at once to head-quarters; and here the long-smothered rebel- lion broke out. The young rising hero, now six feet in height, felt himself so hampered by the pedantic military costume, and cutting such a bizarre figure, that he vowed he would not be a soldier, although the declaration brought him no trivial amount of blows, culTs, and reproaches. A sailor he would be, and nothing else, so that the earl was compelled to yield. The Karl of Hopetoun, a connection of the family, advanced .£100 for the youth's outfit ; the Earl of Dundonald gave him his gold watch and his blessing — all the fortune he had to bestow ; and at the age of seventeen Lord Cochrane joined the Hind, of 28 guns, at Sheerness, on the ship's books of which he already stood rated as midshipman, his uncle Sir Alexander being captain. The die for life being thus cast, the young midshipman was not slow in learning his profession, or indicating his fitness to command. After serving some time in the Hind, he was transferred to the Thetis — a better frigate — of which he was made acting third lieu- tenant only eighteen months after he had joined the service; and after remaining five years on the North American station, he served under Lord Keith in the Mediterranean — first in the Barfleur, and after- wards in the Queen Charlotte. While thus em- employed in the Mediterranean various stories of his lordship's daring were told, after he became a man of high mark ; but of these we shall only notice one, as it opened the way for his career in a separate command. To the Genereux, 74, a capture of Lord Nelson's, Cochrane was appointed prize-master; but the ship's rigging was in a very dangerous condition, while the crew serving under him were very scanty and inefficient for such a charge. In this state of matters the Genereux was caught in a gale of wind, her masts and spars were in peril, and none of the crew could be induced to go aloft. At this crisis Lord Cochrane ascended the precarious rigging, accompanied by his brother Archibald, who had also entered the naval service, and followed by a few sailors whom their example had inspired; the main- sail was furled, and the vessel, which otherwise would have foundered, was carried safely into Port Mahon. This appointment to the perilous charge of such a prize-ship in all probability saved his lordship's life, as, during his absence, the Queen Charlotte, in which he was junior lieutenant, took fire at Leghorn, and her captain, the greater part of the officers, and 600 of the crew perished. The gallant devotedness of Cochrane in saving the prize-ship was so well appreciated, that the admiral recommended him for promotion, and in the mean- time appointed him to the command of a little non- descript man-of-war, called the Speedy. Notwith- standing her name, her powers of sailing were of the slowest, her scanty and uncomfortable accommoda- tion was crowded with a crew of eighty-four men and six officers, while her armament consisted of fourteen guns that were nothing more than four- pounders. Strange ships of war were occasionally to be found in the British navy even at the close of the eighteenth century; but of them all, the Speedy might be considered the climax. On taking posses- sion of his cabin. Lord Cochrane found that the roof was only five feet in height, so that when he stood upright in this cage, the skylight had to be removed. Even the process of shaving he could only perform by thrusting his head and shoulders through this opening, and using the deck for a toilet-table. Put in this strange craft he was to show the wonderful vol.. 1. power of his genius, that could rise superior to diffi- culties, and perform great deeds with inadequate means. He was appointed to cruise in the Medi- terranean, and his first exploit was to rescue a Danish brig, and capture her assailant, a French privateer of six guns and forty-eight men. Onward he then continued in his career, at one time capturing mer- chant vessels and smaller privateers, and at anotlicr escaping the pursuit of gun-boats, the Speedy having acquired under his command an adroitness in man- euvering and quickness in sailing, that changed her character, and made her worthy of her name. Such, indeed, was the terror inspired by this vessel along the Spanish coast, by the daring nature of her ex- ploits and the number of her captures, that various plans were devised for its seizure; and as this could not easily be done either by quick sailing or direct attack, it was resolved to allure her within reach by stratagem. For this purpose a frigate was dL-guiscd into the appearance of a well-laden merchantman; the Speedy pursued, and was allowed to near her, when the frigate suddenly turned, and opened such a cannonade as would have soon annihilated her tormenting adversary. But Lord Cochrane had also disguised the Speedy, so that she might pass for a Dane; and, on hoisting Danish colours, the Span- iards ceased to fire, and sent out a boat, to make sure that they had not committed a mistake. But even for this awkward inquest his lordship had prepared, by shipping a quarter-master on board with a sort of Danish uniform; and, on the boat coming nigh, a yellow flag, the sign of the plague, was run up by the Speedy, while the quarter-master declared that the ship had two days ago left Algiers, where the pestilence was raging. This dreaded word was enough for the Spaniards, who did not venture to come on board, and the Speedy was allowed to con- tinue her course without further question. And if there was any reluctance at such a peaceful parting, it was on the part of his lordship's crew, who had thus so narrowly escaped the jaws of death. Hitherto their successes had been so many and so marvellous, that they thought nothing impossible under such a leader; and they murmured, because they had not been allowed to give battle to the Spanish frigate, although it was mounted with at least thirty gun.-. The great naval exploit of Cochrane in the affair of the El Gamo, in the following year, showed that this confidence, apparently so overweening, had not been unreasonable. After several appearances at places where the Speedy was least expected, .so that she seemed at once to be everywhere, and dealing such heavy blows as made her vi-its most unwelcome wherever she came, she arrived off Barcelona at mid- night, on the 5th of May, 1S01. Here gun-boats were on the watch, that fled at the appearance of the intruder; but, suspecting that this flight was for the purpose of alluring him into some net, Lord Coch- rane made a cautious and exploratory fight, that night and the following morning. His car.;;":: was justified by the result, for on the morning ol the 6th, on approaching Barcelona, a large S] an;.-h xe! ec frigate running under the land suddenly . ; ; eared. This, then, was the cause of the ; ret en the gun-boats. Resolved to acre: I lenge, and mindful of the dissatisfact; n of 1 is crew at the forbearance he had manife-ted towards the former frigate, his lords! .tered them upon deck, and although they r* ami boys included, to fifty-f ur. tl ■ re-t of Ins 1 having been sent to Port Mali n in charge of two prizes, lie told them that 1. ave a fair fight of it. The Speedy was boldly directed aiiain^t the coming enenr. ; ai d, on the '.alter hoi-U 24 3'/° THOMAS COCHRANE. ing Spanish colours, the former, to avoid the other's broadside, and increase the enemy's perplexity, hoisted American colours. The Speedy thus got on the other tack, and when she hoisted English colours, she received the Spaniard's broadside without damage. Another broadside equally harmless followed, the Speedy making no reply until she had run under the enemy's lee, and locked her yards among the other's rigging. Thus locked, she was safe from the enemy's cannonade, that went harmlessly over the heads of the English, while the little popguns of the Speedy, that would have been useless at a distance, made a fearful havoc upon the deck of the frigate, as they were trebly shotted, and fired at an elevation. Their first discharge killed the captain and boatswain of the Spanish ship, and produced such confusion among her crew, that they resolved to board the Speedy; but as the order to that effect was distinctly heard on board the latter vessel, she was promptly with- drawn from the attempt, plying the enemy in return with a discharge of her guns, and a volley of mus- ketry. Twice the enemy attempted to board, ami as often was the attempt baffled by the same manoeuvre. The Spaniards then confined themselves to a can- nonade, which did little damage except to the rigging of the Speedy; this, however, was becoming so serious, that Lord Cochrane told his crew they must either take the Spaniard, or be themselves taken, in which case the enemy would give no quarter. His ardour was shared by his crew, and in a few seconds every man and boy of the Speedy was on the deck of the Spaniards, who gazed in bewilderment, unable to believe their eyes, or that a mere handful would make such a daring attempt. They rallied, how- ever, upon the waist of their ship, and maintained a gallant resistance; but, in the heat of it, Lord Cochrane ordered one of his men to haul down the Spanish colours, which were still flying. This prompt act decided the conflict; the crew of the Gamo saw their flag struck, and believing that it had been done by the command of their own officers, they ceased their resistance, and surrendered. In this manner the Gamo, a frigate of thirty-two heavy guns, and a crew of 319 men, was encountered, boarded, and taken by a British vessel that was nothing better than a common coaster, manned by fifty-four hands. No exploit could better indicate the coolness of mind and wonderful resources of Lord Cochrane, who seemed to have a ready ex- pedient for every emergency, however trying. If anything could enhance the glory of victory in such an unequal trial, it was the small price at which it had been won, for while the Speedy had only three seamen killed and eighteen wounded, the Gamo had fifteen killed and forty-one wounded. Not long after this remarkable exploit, while cruising off Barcelona, Lord Cochrane, on the 1st of June, fell in witii the English brig Kangaroo, com- manded by Captain Pulling; and having learned that a Spanish convoy of live armed vessels and twelve ships were about three days' sail a-head, the two British commanders resolved to go in chase of it. They found indeed the convoy, but it was at anchor under the shelter of the battery of Oropesa, and with the additional protection of a xebec of twenty guns and three gun-boats. Undismayed by such difficulties, the Kangaroo and Speedy advanced to the attack; the battle commenced witli a heavy cannonade, which was deepened by the arrival of a Spanish felucca and two gun-boats to the aid of the convoy. This hot fight continued from noon until seven o'clock in the evening, when the xebec and several of the gun-boats were sunk and the battery silenced. Three prizes on this occasion were se- cured, but the rest of the convoy had either been sunk or driven on shore. Lord Cochrane had now done enough to merit both rapid and high promotion. With a vessel that was reckoned a mere tub, and during the short space of thirteen months in which he commanded her, he had captured in all thirty- three vessels, mounting 128 guns and manned by 533 hands. But on returning from his successful cruise to Port Mahon, he found that no promotion as yet awaited him, while, instead of being transferred to the command of the Gamo, that fine ship which he had so nobly won, it had been sold by the British admiralty to the Dey of Algiers. He was again to put to sea in no better ship than the Speedy, and with no higher commission than to convoy a mail-boat to Gibraltar. As if to tie his hands also from action, he was pro- hibited from holding any communication with the shore. But he did not think that this prohibi- tion prevented him from setting fire to ships that were ashore, and having chased some Spanish vessels and driven them ashore near Alicante, he forthwith burned them. The blaze, however, served as a signal to three Erench line-of-battle ships, and when they appeared Lord Cochrane gave chase, mistaking them for galleons. On discovering his error he tried every art in navigation to elude his adversaries, and succeeded for several hours to elude their shot; but all his attempts to run through or outstrip his numerous pursuers were in vain. One of the French ships, that got within musket-range of the Speedy, discharged a whole broadside at her, and though the damage inflicted was but slight, the next discharge would suffice to send her to the bottom. For the first and last time Lord Cochrane was compelled to strike, but did not long remain a prisoner, as he was soon after exchanged for the second captain of the San Antonio, taken by Admiral Saumarez. On the following month, August 8th, his tardy promo- tion came, but it was commensurate neither with his merits nor his deeds, being simply the rank of post- captain, while his name was placed at the bottom of the list, below those who had received the same rank subsequent to the capture of the Gamo. His just but bold and indignant remonstrances had already made him a marked man with the lords of the admiralty, but not for the purposes of patronage and advancement. The peace of Amiens which speedily ensued obliged Lord Cochrane to turn his restless spirit to a new sphere of action, but it was to a sphere as honourable to himself as it was unex- pected by either friend or enemy. lie became a student in the university of Edinburgh ! It was the very step which he ought to have taken, as, notwith- standing his high deeds, he still felt the defects of his early education. Under the strict scientific training also to which he subjected himself, his remarkable intellectual powers were developed, and directed into their proper sphere. Lord Cochrane was to be- come one of our greatest, because he was one of the most scientific, of British admirals. 'Ihe studies of his lordship at college were ended with the termination of the short-lived peace of Amiens, and the return of war restored him to active employment, lie applied for a ship, and the ad- miralty appointed him to the command of the Arab. But what was his astonishment to find that this vessel was only an old collier patched up from the frag- ments of sundry broken vessels, and useful for little- else than firewood, while, notwithstanding her name, her powers of sailing were even worse than those of the Speedy. The duty also upon which he was ordered was commensurate with the qualities of the Arab — for it was to watch the motions of the flotilla THOMAS COCHRANE. 37i at Boulogne. On finding that his ship could only drift with the wind and tide, and was useless for such a service, his lordship remonstrated, and in re- turn was sent by the admiralty to cruise in the North Sea, for the protection of fisheries that had no exist- ence. In this irritating fashion Lord Cochrane was to be thrust aside, and condemned to inactivity, in consequence of his independent spirit, and insubor- dination to the ruling powers. Nearly fourteen months did he endure this intolerable penance, when, fortunately for him, Lord Melville, his country- man, was placed at the head of the admiralty, and Cochrane was transferred to the command of the Pallas, a fine new frigate of 38 guns. To compen- sate also for his exile in the North Sea, he was com- missioned to cruise for a month off the Western Isles, where the chance of prizes was most abundant. I i is short cruise more than justified the hopes that had been formed of his success. On the way to his ap- pointed station, he captured a valuable ship from the Havannah to Cadiz, forming part of a convoy; in a few hours after he made a still richer capture; and two days after a third, more profitable than the preceding two. On the succeeding day, he took a letter of marque well stored with dollars. The arrival of so many rich prizes at Plymouth, captured in so short a time, and by one vessel, set the whole town astir; and this feeling of triumph was enhanced by the arrival of the Pallas herself, carrying as trophies upon her mast-heads three golden candlesticks, each of which was five feet high. Having now won so much renown, and being fur- nished with the sinews of political warfare, while the country was on the eve of a general election, Lord Cochrane resolved to enter parliament, where he could obtain for his complaints on the abuses in the administration of the navy an attentive hearing. He selected Honiton as the borough for canvass, and as bribery was the prevalent fashion of such elections, his lordship felt no scruple in following the usual course. But he was outbid by his opponent, who in consequence was returned. Another election for Honiton occurred soon afterwards, in which Lord Cochrane was returned by a large majority, the electors hoping to be richly rewarded with Spanish gold for their suffrages; but his lordship, who on this occasion had promised nothing, also paid nothing. He had not long held his parlia- mentary honours, when he was ordered out to sea, and to convoy a fleet of slow-sailing merchant ships to Quebec; but on his return, he was appointed to a more congenial service, which was to cruise off the French coast. On this occasion he performed one of those daring and successful exploits that characterized his whole career. Having learned, while off the Garonne, that several corvettes were lying up the river, lie resolved to capture or destroy them; and although the Garonne is the most diffi- cult in navigation of all the rivers on the French coast, this circumstance was only an additional in- centive to his purpose. lie sailed up the mouth of the river, and having reached close to the Cor- dovan lighthouse, he anchored a little after dusk on the evening of the $lh of April, 1S06, manned his ship's boats so that only forty hands were left on board the Pallas, and sent the boats up the river under the command of Lieutenant Halswell. Twenty miles up the river they found the corvettes under the protection of two batteries, and immediately attacked the Tapageuse, a corvette of fourteen long-pounders and ninety-five men, which they cut out, and al- though two other corvettes came to its rescue, Hals- well beat them off with the guns of his capture. While lie was thus successful, the situation of Lord Cochrane had become very critical: the French had taken the alarm, and three strongly armed corvette-* bore down upon the Pallas, when she had scarcely hands enough to work her. But Lord Cochrane con- cealed his weakness by meeting the enemy half-way; and dismayed at finding that their enemy was a frigate, they endeavoured to sheer off, and were successively run on shore and destroyed by the Pallas. To add to the pleasure of such signal success, these three vessels, mounting in all sixty-four guns, were dot roved without the Pallas losing a man, while only three of her crew were wounded. In the following month [May] Lord Cochrane dis- tinguished himself by a war against the semaphores which had been erected upon the French coast, and were so successful in giving warning of the approach of hostile vessels, that they had interfered with his plans and operations. He therefore landed, and de- stroyed several of these hostile indicators, notwith- standing the troops that had been stationed to protect them. But while thus occupied, he also attempted an enterprise in which he was almost overpowered by numbers. While cruising off the island of Aix, he fell in with a French frigate, the jVuicne, of 40 guns, attended by three brigs well armed; and as this vessel was the guardship of the Aix Roads, and had greatly annoyed the Fnglish, Lord Cochrane, not- withstanding their great superiority in men and metal, resolved to attack them. By a bold manoeuvre he ran his ship between the Minerve and the shore, by which the batteries on land were obliged to pause, and had almost succeeded in boarding his opponent, when two frigates arrived to its assistance, in conse- quence of which his lordship was compelled to retire from such an unequal fight. It was much, however, that in such a daring attempt he had only one man killed and five wounded, and that he extricated his ship from the danger, even when it had become a com- plete wreck. After this he was appointed to the Imperieiisc, a fine frigate of 40 guns ; and with these enlarged means he became more formidable than ever, so that in little more than three weeks, he destroyed fifteen merchant ships of the enemy, and demolished Fort Roquette at the entrance of the basin of Arcasson, with a great quantity of military stores. This last important achievement also was so well planned and conducted, that he did. not lose a man. Very soon after Lord Cochrane returned from this short cruise, parliament was dissolved, and at the new election he presented himself as a candidate for Westminster, along with Sir Francis Burdett. Both were returned, and his lordship, with his wonted zeal and boldness, proceeded to attack the prevalent abuses in government. He had brought forward two motions, one on sinecures and the other on the pernicious administration of the navy, when the alarmed ministry resolved to silence him, and this they effected by grudgingly sending him to sea. where he was certain to win fresh honours and distinction. The usurpations of Napoleon 1. in Spain, and ^t: revolt of the Spaniards against his dominion, ;.. . converted them from enemies into allies oi the British government, and Lord Cochrane was a in- missioned to aid the same people again-t whom he had f night with such destnu tive effect. I le acce] ted the change of this new political relati iiiship, an ! le.: his seat in parliament to cruise in the Me i.terraman. His commission was to hams- the French on the coasts of France and Spain, and never was an or !er more completely fulfilled.. His ship, the Imferieuse. seemed to be evervwhere. and. everywhere successful in deeds of incredible which he swept the st tne manner m stile craft, r - THOMAS COCHRANE. maged every harbour in quest of an enemy, de- molished batteries, signal posts and towers, and crippled the advance of French armies into the Peninsula, were important events among the achieve- ments of this momentous war, and would of them- selves require a volume. The importance of these deeds performed by a single frigate, and their effect in the Peninsular war, were thus characterized in the despatch of the commander-in-chief: "Nothing can exceed the activity and zeal with which his lordship pursues the enemy. The success which attends his enterprises clearly indicates with what skill and ability they are conducted; besides keeping the coast in constant alarm, causing a total suspension of trade, and harassing a body of troops employed in opposing them, he has probably prevented those troops which were intended for Figueras from ad- vancing into Spain, by giving them employment in the defence of their own coasts." Of his services to the Spanish cause on shore a single instance from the many must suffice. Learning that Rosas was besieged by the French, Lord Cochrane volunteered for the defence of Fort Trinidad — an outwork on which the safety of Rosas depended. The garrison of the fort was already reduced to eighty Spaniards, who were on the point of surrendering, when, on the 22d of September, 1S08, his lordship arrived with eighty seamen and marines. The arrival of this small reinforcement with such a leader changed the scene. The resistance was continued; and when the enemy attempted, on the 30th, with 1000 picked soldiers, to take Fort Trinidad by storm, his lordship with his small garrison routed his numerous assail- ants, killed their leader, and destroyed their storm- ing equipage. In this protracted siege, which lasted twelve days, the personal valour of Lord Cochrane was as conspicuous as his skilful leadership. There was such a dash of chivalrous romance in it as charmed the enthusiastic Spaniards, and reminded them of the heroes of their ballads — their cids and campeadors of the olden times. On one occa- sion a shot struck the Spanish flag, so that it fell into the ditch. Unwilling that such a trophy of the place he defended should be carried off, and to encourage the garrison in their resistance, he leaped after it into the ditch amidst a shower of bullets, brought it back in safety, and planted it again in its place. Although Rosas could not be ultimately preserved, it was much that the surrender had been thus delayed; and when it yielded at last to a whole besieging army, Lord Cochrane blew up the maga- zines of the fort, and withdrew his followers in safety to the Imperieuse. And still the prudence with which this desperate deed of daring was conducted, was shown in the smallness of the loss he sustained; for during these days of hard fighting against such overwhelming numbers, he had only three men killed and seven wounded. This last circumstance may fitly introduce some explanation of the character of Lord Cochrane's modes of warfare. From the mere aspect of his ex- ploits, it might be supposed that he was at all times ready to encounter any odds — that he rushed blindly into battle, and was in all cases favoured by singular good luck. But no conclusion can be moreunphilo- sophical or more absurd. Never, perhaps, in a belligerent brain was such fearless onward daring combined with such prudence and cool calculation. He might plan such a deed as appeared toothers not only desperate, but impossible; but he had con- sidered it in all its bearings, and made a just estimate of his means of success; and when he rushed into the fight, he had previously calculated every movement of the enemy to thwart him, and devised an expedient by which every such movement could be defeated. Nor did he entirely trust to mere abstract calcula- tions, for previous to an engagement he had carefully reconnoitred the enemy, spy-glass in hand; plummed the soundings and bearings with the lead-line; and passed whole nights under the enemy's batteries, to observe everything with his own eye, and verify his calculations. In an attack upon a ship or battery, he was cautious, unless justified by circumstances, not to let his boats go beyond the protection of his vessel; when the wind was on shore, he moored a boat in by a light Indian rope that floated on the water, so that a communication was established with the ship; and in the event of a reverse or check, his boats were recalled by the ship's capstan, so that their crews had only to attend to their weapons. Never, indeed, had naval warfare been so reduced by any commander to an exact science; and hence the secret of his wonder- ful successes. With courage equal to that of Nelson, with as much skill in the handling of ships, with a mind still more fertile in resources, and with scienti- fic means applicable to the purposes of naval warfare that were unknown to Nelson — what might have been their respective histories had Cochrane in point of time preceded the latter? But the hero of the Nile and Trafalgar had terminated his" glorious career when the other was only entering upon the scene, and to Cochrane little else was left than the glean ings of the harvest. After a cruise of eighteen months, during which the services of his lordship had been worth whole fleets and armies, his chief wish was to be allowed to take possession of the French islands in the Bay of Biscay, and be placed in command of a squadron of small cruisers, in which case he could have kept the enemy in a state of constant alarm, and com- pelled the French armies to stay at home for the defence of their own coasts. But at present govern- ment had other work for him to do. A large French fleet under the command of Admiral Allemande was anchored in the Basque Roads, between the island of Aix and the Ruyant shoal, while Lord Gambier closely blockaded it with a strong squadron of the Channel fleet; but such was the strength of the French shipping and the batteries by which they were de- fended, as well as the security of their position and the difficulty of approaching them, that they reposed without fear of interruption. This was a standing bravado which our country would not tolerate, and as the hostile fleet could not be allured out into the open sea, it was resolved by the British admiralty to assail it in its place of safety at whatever cost or hazard. But to whom should such a difficult com- mission be intrusted? Lord Cochrane appeared to them the only competent man for such a deed; and on being recalled from his cruise, he laid before them a plan characterized by boldness, calculation, and scientific knowledge, of which they heartily approved, so that, passing over the usual routine of service, they commissioned him, notwithstanding his inferior- ity in age and naval rank, to carry it into execution. It was a confession of their helplessness, and a testi- mony in their hour of need to the superior worth of an officer whose services they had hitherto depre- ciated. As his proposal was to destroy the French tleet by fireships, a sufficient number of these were granted to him, with bomb-ships and rocket-vessels, and thus provided, he joined the blockading squadron of Lord Gambier. On the night of the 1 ith of April, 1S09, all being in readiness, Lord Cochrane set out on his terrible expedition with his fleet of fire-ships, bombs, and explosion-vessels, commanded by officers who had volunteered for the service. As the chief hope was in the explosion-ships, a description of one THOMAS COCHRANE. 373 of these, which Lord Cochrane himself had charged, gives a frightful idea of the storm that was soon to rouse the French fleet from its security. It was stored with the contents of 1 500 barrels of gunpowder started into puncheons, which were placed with their ends uppermost; upon these were laid three or four hun- dred shells charged with fuses, and between them were nearly three thousand hand-grenades. The puncheons were fastened to each other by cables wound round them, and jammed together with wedges; and moistened sand was rammed clown between them, to make the whole mass compact and solid from stem to stern. In one of the three vessels armed in this manner, Lord Cochrane, with a lieu- tenant and four seamen, advanced to the attack at eight o'clock at night. The result of this strange encounter is so well known that only a few particu- lars need to be mentioned. Lord Cochrane in the ship he commanded ran against the boom that de- fended the narrow passage, and dashed it to pieces; the fireships rushed through the opening, and closed with the French fleet; the explosion- vessels were fired with such deadly determination, that even their own crews were almost involved in the fate they brought to others, and the enemy's ships, cutting their cables, and flying hither and thither in wild confusion, were wrecked upon sand-banks or blown into the air. When the light of the morning dawned upon this midnight havoc, seven sail of the French line were seen lying on the shore, and all were in a mood to surrender, so that nothing was needed but the advance of the blockading squadron to make the victory complete. This was so evident that Coch- rane, amidst the fire of the engagement, threw out signal after signal, and Lord Gambier accordingly weighed anchor; but when he was within three miles of Aix, he stopped short, called a council of war, and judged it inexpedient to proceed any farther. How this cold delay acted on the ardent spirit of Lord Cochrane, more especially when he saw the tide rise, and the stranded ships floated off without his having the means to capture them, may be easily imagined. But even as it was, much had been effected. Out of a powerful French fleet, consisting of ten sail of the line, a fifty-gun ship, and four frigates, defended by strong batteries on the island of Aix, and by a dangerous shoal and a boom, three ships of the line and a fifty-six were burned, a seventy- four in consequence of this attack was lost a few days after, and the other ships that had stranded, but escaped, were so damaged, that for a long time afterwards they continued unfit for service. Lnough had been done by Lord Cochrane to show what might have been achieved had he been properly seconded. Amidst this wild midnight work, in which men might seem to be transformed into demons, it is pleasing to detect some redeeming traits of humanity, and such were not wholly wanting. They were also displayed by Lord Cochrane himself. In the heat of the engagement, when a French ship, the Varso\'ic, was set on fire, and its crew removed by the assailants for safety, a dog was left alone, and ran howling about the deck; upon which his lordship leaped on b >ard at the risk of being blown into the air, and carried off the poor creature in his arms. On the captain of one of the captured ships lament- ing to him that all he had in the world would be lost in the conflagration, Lord Cochrane got out his boat, and pushed off to the ship; but, in passing one of the burning vessels, its guns went off, by one of which the captain was killed, and the boat all but sent to the bottom. If the smallness of the loss in human life which his boldest enterprises cost is also to be accepted as a proof of humane considerateness. this terrible exploit in the Roads of Aix will fully stand the test, for of the conquerors, only ten men were killed, thirty-seven wounded, and one missing. For this signal success, the whole merit of which was due to Lord Cochrane, his majesty conferred upon him the order of Knight of the Hath, and a motion was made in parliament for a vote of thanks to Lord Gambier, Lord Cochrane, and the officers and seamen. But here our hero refused to be in- cluded, and opposed the vote. He was still so in- dignant at Lord Gambier, and so loud in his com- plaints of his over-cautious proceedings, that the latter was obliged to demand a court-martial, by which he was acquitted. Of this trial and acquittal, the proceedings, according to Lord Cochrane in his autobiography, were so unfair and one-sided, that it is painful to peruse the account, and to the close of his days he never ceased to characterize them as a climax of iniquity and injustice. In 1S12 his lord- ship married, and the circumstances of this union partook of the romance of his character. I lis uncle, Basil Cochrane, who had acquired a large fortune in India, and designed to make his nephew his heir, was also urgent that he should marry a certain young lady, whose great dowry would raise the empty earl- dom of which he would be the occupant to its former wealth and grandeur; but Lord Cochrane, disregard- ing such sordid calculations, espoused a lady who had no fortune whatever except an amiable character, and a mind congenial to his own. The usual result of such disobedience followed: the uncle disinherited his nephew, and left him to shift for himself. We now come to the most painful incident of Lord Cochrane's career. During the cessation of professional service after his exploit in the Aix Roads, his active spirit turned to politics, in the in- trigues of which he was unfitted to shine, and to speculations on the stock exchange, in which he was still more incompetent, and by which he was a con- siderable loser. On the 20th of February, 1814, one of those daring frauds was committed by which a temporary rise in the value of stock is effected in the market. At the midnight of that day a person calling himself Colonel de Bourg, aide-de-camp to Lord Cathcart, appeared at the Ship Hotel, Dover, with the information that Bonaparte had been killed, that the allies were in triumphant march for Paris, and that instant peace might be expected — after which he drove to London, and repaired to the house of Lord Cochrane. His lying report was spread abroad, a rapid rise in the funds was the con- sequence, and when a reaction followed, a strict search for the impostor ensued, who was found under his real name of De Berenger. His visit also to Lord Cochrane was discovered, who was supposed to be implicated in the fraud. His uncle, Sir Alexander Cochrane, having been appointed to the North. American station, had selected his nephew for h:- flag-captain, and his lordship was about to sa:l in the flag-ship, the Totinaiit, but on hearing the runn i:r he instantly hastened from Chatham to I.n: and gave a full statement of the suspici 'i:> irten ;<.w, and his connection with the wretched De Berenger. The latter, it appeared, had called up< n ma.- a stranger, had told him a piteous tale o! <• -'r<. . had borrowed from him a hat and 1. :. pre! that he was a prisoner of the Mi: could not return to his lodgings in 1 - ; tume. But although every ir.cidcr: De Berenger's visit was gratui; u-!\ -' ' and ex- plained, the affidavit was <>i no r.v. . ship's connection with the sti ...-. . ■ 1 ir.'.cri-t ;n their rise, were allowed to pre; ! rate. It was remembered also that en the 12th of February he 374 THOMAS COCHRANE. had purchased /'i39,000 of Omnium on a time- bargain, and had sold it at a profit on the 2 1st, when the imposture was prevalent. A trial of the parties charged with the fraud, Lord Cochrane being among the number, was held in the court of Queen's Bench before Lord Ellenborough, and the political offences of the popular hero of radicalism were such, as with or without evidence would have insured his condem- nation. He had exposed the abuses of the admiralty, and the whole board was arrayed against him. He had been appointed, notwithstanding his youth and inferior rank, to conduct the expedition of the Basque Roads, and older commanders were indignant at the preference, and regarded him as their enemy. And above all, he was a keen reformer, whose uncom- promising opposition to the powers that be, and ex- posure of their errors and iniquities, had kindled the resentment of government, and made it their interest to find him guilty. With such a weight of opposition it mattered not though the evidence brought against him was equivocal, weak, and un- satisfactory, and that a most respectable minority were dissatisfied with the trial, and persisted in hold- ing him innocent. He was pronounced guilty, and sentenced to pay a fine of ^iooo; to be imprisoned twelve months in the Marshalsea; and to stand one hour in the pillory in front of the Royal Exchange, along with De Berengcrand another of the convicted conspirators. But this last shameful part of the sen- tence was not executed — for it might have brought a worse than Spithead or Sheerness mutiny into the heart of London itself. He was also dismissed from the navy, expelled from the House of Commons, and degraded from the knighthood of the Bath, his banner being thrown down, and kicked out of the chapel by the king-at-arms, according to the ancient prescribed form. Notwithstanding this load of indignity his constituents of Westminster con- tinued to proclaim him guiltless, and when a new election took place on the 16th of July, 1814, he was again, though a prisoner, chosen to represent the city. This was enough to rouse him into action: maddened by the wrongs endured from his enemies, and encouraged by this honourable approval, he scaled the walls of his prison, entered the astonished House of Commons, and took his seat among the members. For this outbreak he was remanded to the Marshalsea, and visited with a fresh fine. After his term of durance had expired, Lord Coch- rane found little or no benefit by the recovery of his personal liberty. He was still indeed, as before, proclaimed guiltless by the reflecting and judicious lew; his friends still clung to him, and the sailors worshipped him as the beau ideal of a commander and a hero. But still he felt the brand inflicted by government to be ineffaceable, and that, however he might remonstrate, neither his complaints nor his justification could obtain a hearing. He felt that he had no longer a country and a home, and for all the purposes of life might as well be elsewhere. Some- thing however he must do, for such a spirit could not remain at rest; and in 1818 an opportunity for action occurred. The Spanish provinces of South America were throwing off the yoke of the mother country, which had become too oppressive to be borne; the republic of Chili offered him the command of its naval force; and as the cause was that of liberty, of which he was so enthusiastic an advocate, he closed with the offer, and repaired with his wife and family to Valparaiso. On arriving he found the office to which he was invited so hopeless that any other com- mander would have despaired. The Spanish fleet, which was large and powerful, held possession of the sea, and in the principal cities the authority of the viceroys was still supreme; while the whole naval force of the insurgents consisted of only three frigates and a few sloops of war manned by heterogeneous crews, half of whom had never been trained to the sea, while all were equally in a slate of insubordina- tion. None but a master intellect of the highest power could have reduced such elements to order, and made them fit for great achievements; and these were precisely the difficulties which his lordship had been accustomed to overcome. His exploits more than justified the high expectations of the insurgents; for no sooner was it known that he was admiral of the Chilian fleet than the Spanish ships of war hurried behind the shelter of their fortresses, and left the sea open to their lately despised enemies. Having thus found the coast of Chili free from the enemy, Lord Cochrane carried the war to the coast of Peru, and soon signalized it by the capture of Valdivia. This was a sea-fortress of such strength that a powerful fleet would have been required for an attack upon it according to the usual operations; but his lordship, who calculated upon secresy and a sudden blow for success, resolved to attack it with nothing but his flagship, a frigate of 50 guns, and three small vessels carrying 250 land troops. He approached the har- bour under Spanish colours, and as a ship was ex- pected from Cadiz, a boat pushed out from the harbour with pilots, who, on stepping on board the flagship, were made prisoners. Availing himself of the information they gave, the flagship and small vessels advanced towards the harbour; but the Spaniards, alarmed at these suspicious movements, opened a heavy fire, and the battle commenced in earnest. But one fort after another was taken by the assailants, while the defenders, confounded by the boldness of the attack, which was made at once both from east and west, offered a confused and feeble resistance. In this manner all the forts were captured before daybreak, and, to add to the success of this exploit, the Spanish governor of Valdivia, terrified at such a sudden capture, collected his troops and what- ever valuables he could transport, and sought safety in flight. Thus Lord Cochrane found himself master of fifteen forts, the city of Valdivia, large magazines, and many cannon, with a numerous population; while to rule, retain, and manage such a conquest, he had only a few hundred soldiers and sailors, the last of whom were needed for the ships. And who could tell how long the panic of the governor would last, or how soon he might return with such a force as would suffice to overpower the captors? Lord Coch- rane resolved to trust to the terrors of his name and the additional dread which this capture had inspired: he therefore left the place as it stood, and with its stores untouched, confident that none would reoccupy Valdivia from the fear of a second and more terrible return. His confidence was justified, forthe Spaniards held aloof; and this city, the chief military Spanish depot of the province, became the property of the insurgent government. Equally daring with this remarkable deed was that which his lordship performed at Callao, the port of Lima. It had been resolved that Callao should only be blockaded, as its defences were such that its cap- ture by direct attack was judged impossible. Its harbour was defended at every point by 300 pieces of cannon; the garrison was composed of tried sol- diers and skilful artillery-men; and under the guns and within the fort the Spanish frigate Esmeralda, of 40 guns, lay moored, having on board a numerous crew of seamen and marines, who kept careful watch night and d.iy. These defences of the Esmeralda had also in addition a strong boom with chain moorings, armed blockships, and a guard of twenty-seven gun- THOMAS COCHRANE. 375 boats. But a dull blockade did not suit the ardent genius of Lord Cochrane, and he resolved, in spite of its formidable advantages, to attack and carry this frigate. Besides the glory of such an enterprise, it would be a death-blow to the Spanish cause in South America. From his three frigates he selected 160 seamen and 80 marines; these, after dark, were placed in fourteen boats alongside of his flag-ship, each man armed with a cutlass and pistol, and dressed in white, with a blue band on the left arm. What followed will be best given in his lordship's own account. "At ten o'clock all was in readiness, the boats being formed in two divisions, the first commanded by my flag-captain Crosbie, and the second by Captain Guise, my boat leading. The strictest silence and the exclusive use of cutlasses were enjoined, so that, as the oars were muffled and the night dark, the enemy had not the least suspicion of the intended attack. It was just upon midnight when we neared the small opening left in the boom, our plan being well-nigh frustrated by the vigilance of a guard-boat, upon which my launch had unluckily stumbled. The challenge was given, upon which, in an undertone, I threatened the occupants of the boat with instant death if they made the least alarm. No reply was made to the threat, and in a few minutes our gallant fellows were alongside the frigate in line, boarding at several points simultaneously. The Spaniards were completely taken by surprise, the whole, with the exception of the sentries, being asleep at their quarters; and great was the havoc made among them by the Chileni cutlasses whilst they were recovering themselves. Retreating to the forecastle, they there made a gallant stand, and it was not until the third charge that the position was carried. The fight was for a short time renewed on the quarter- deck, where the Spanish marines fell to a man, the rest of the enemy leaping overboard and into the hold to escape slaughter. On boarding the ship by the main-chains I was knocked back by the butt-end of the sentry's musket, and falling on a thole-pin of the boat, it entered my back near the spine, inflicting a severe injury, which caused me many years of sub- sequent suffering. Immediately regaining my footing, I reascended the side, and when on deck, was shot through the thigh; but binding a handkerchief tightly round the wound, managed, though with great diffi- culty, to direct the contest to its close. The whole affair from beginning to end occupied only a quarter of an hour, our loss being eleven killed and thirty wounded, while that of the Spaniards was 160, many of whom fell under the cutlasses of the Chilenos before they could stand to their arms." In this manner, by a wonderful combination of skill and daring, the Es- meralda was boarded and won. The danger, how- ever, was not yet over: alarmed by the tokens of a struggle in the harbour, the garrison opened its guns upon the Esmeralda, and as they were accurately pointed, they knocked down friend and enemy alike on board, and might have soon recovered the prize had it not been for an expedient of Cochrane. Nigh the vessel were lying an English and an American frigate, which, being neutral, hoisted their distinctive lights to avert the fire of the garrison from themselves; but his lordship, who had foreseen this, also hoisted the same lights, so that the Spaniards, unable to distinguish between friends and foes, withheld their fire. There also lay in the port a Spanish sloop of war and many merchant vessels, one of which had a million of dollars on board; and it was part of his lordship's design to board .ship after ship, and make himself master of the whole. But the English and American frigates having cut their cables and drifted out of the fire, the captors of the Esmeralda followed their ex- ample, although contrary to Lord Cochrane's orders; and thus the rich booty which would have rewarded such a victory escaped from their grasp. But such an exploit as the capture of the Esmeralda was enough for fame, and while the world rang with the report of the deed, the British seamen everywhere exulted in the success of their favourite hero, and expressed their indignation at his dismissal from the national service. While by a series of such actions Ix>rd Cochrane was establishing the emancipation of Chili and Peru, his position was by no means comfortable. The chiefs of the revolt were indignant that a foreign leader should thus eclipse them ; and while they boasted of their own counsels and arrangements as the source of these achievements, they rapaciously seized the spoil of every naval victory, and alienated it to the land-service and the operations in which themselves were personally concerned. Thus, with no prize-money and scantily paid wages, the seamen became indignant, and it was natural that their leader should sympathize in their complaints. At last they got no pay whatever, and broke out into open mutiny; while, to quell it, the Chilian dictator could devise no better expedient than that of selling the fleet itself by which their best successes had been effected. This brought matters to their crisis; and while an immense amount of public and private treasure was about to be removed by order of the dictator to the port of Ancon, the fleet, with the consent of their admiral, arrested the money as an indemnity for their past services. Lord Cochrane's distribution of the spoil thus obtained was both just and generous. What was private property he re- stored to the owners; what had been appropriated for the public debts he also allowed to pass; and from the surplus he paid every seaman a year's arrear of pay, but kept nothing for himself. And this although he was an actual loser to the amount of ,£25,000 by his interposition in behalf of these liberated states! San Martin, Bolivar, and the other chiefs of the colonial revolt, were indignant at this summary proceeding; and as the Spanish dominion was utterly broken in South America, they were impatient to be left to themselves, that they might enjoy their new freedom after their own fashion. And in what de- plorable way they used it and enjoyed it, history has recorded ! Meanwhile the position of Lord Coch- rane among such proceedings was every day becom- ing more painful, when he was relieved by what he justly calls a "fortunate accident." The important colony of Brazil, animated by the successful example of the Spanish colonies of South America, had re- solved to free itself from the dominion of Portugal, and sent to him an accredited agent inviting him to take the command of the Brazilian navy. He assented, and in March, 1822, arrived at Rio de Janeiro, and assumed his new command. As it was not in his lordship's nature to be i '! '. he set himself to organize such a fleet as might er.al '. : the Brazilians to contend with the Portuguese on an element in which the latter were the stronger; and when all was judged fit for the purpose, he rt to commence operations at Pallia, the ancient capital of Brazil. This important city had been placed under such a strict blockade by 'the tr ops of Don Pedro, that the authorities had 'rc.-olve i to with Iraw all the soldiers and the greater part of the ii ants to Maranham, where they might effeel ly have held the whole Brazilian powers at del With this design its ma rt was alive with a fleet which the eye o aid scarcely number. Nu- merous armed trans] rts 1 mtaining the troops, and from sixty to seventy merchant vessels with I'ortu- 376 THOMAS COCHRANE. guese families and their furniture on board, were to he safely escorted to their destination by a 74-gun ship, one of 50 guns, a frigate of 44 guns, and nine smaller frigates of from 20 to 26 guns — in all a squadron of twelve ships of war. This important transference of a capital and its resources to a locality where their resistance might be more formidable, his lordship was resolved to interrupt, although for the purpose he had only a 74-gun ship, and a frigate of 32 light guns— the former called the Pedro Prim- eiro, and the latter the Maria da Gloria. On the 2d of July the Bahian squadron got under weigh; but no sooner had stood out to sea than his lordship was in chase of them. He ran aboard of their hind- most vessels, and so effectually damaged their masts and rigging, as compelled them to scud before the wind back to Bahia. He then dashed into the midst of the convoy, capturing ships to right and left; and three small frigates having come up and joined him in the chase, the whole Portuguese armament was scattered in every direction, and its ships com- pelled to strike at the first summons. For three days this desperate pursuit continued, and with such effect that the ships conveying the soldiers were boarded, their masts and rigging destroyed, and their captains bound by oath to carry their vessels into an insurgent port. While their convoy was thus scattered, the armed ships kept together, and presented too formidable a front to be attacked; but Lord Cochrane having now put the military force hors-de-combat, resolved to proceed at once to Mar- anham ; knowing that once there the terror of his name would compel the enemy to keep aloof, and preclude all attempts to relieve the place by sea. He accordingly steered direct to Maranham, and no sooner had neared the harbour than a brig of war came out to welcome his ship, as the first arrival and precursor of the whole Portuguese squadron. Greatly, however, were they astounded, when on stepping on board they found themselves prisoners, and in the presence of the dreaded Lord Cochrane. He told them that the Portuguese fleet and army had been destroyed; that his flag-ship was only part of the whole Brazilian fleet, which would straight- way enter their port ; that it carried an invading force sufficient to compel submission; and under the terror of these representations the captain of the brig was easily induced to carry a message to the governor on shore representing the uselessness of resistance, and advising him to surrender. The authorities of Maranham were quelled by the captain's tidings and his message, and would have surrendered upon con- ditions; but as such half-measures did not suit his lordship, he moved his flag-ship abreast of the fort as if in readiness to commence a bombardment. This display was enough; the junta and bishop of Maran- ham came on board, surrendered unconditionally their city, forts, and island, and subscribed their ad- hesion to the empire and Don Pedro. This decisive blow, and by a single ship, settled the fate of the war. Bahia had already fallen, the important pro- vince of Maranham had yielded, and the Portuguese ships, despairing of resistance with Lord Cochrane opposed to them, had abandoned the American seas and returned home. The vast importance of this singular deed of daring was so justly appreciated by the emperor that he conferred upon his lordship the title of Marquis of Maranham, and awarded to him a large estate which was to be selected from the national domains. With the establishment of the Brazilian empire, it might have been thought that our hero would have been allowed to repose under his laurels, and enjoy the fruits of his victories in peace. But irresistible though he was on sea, Lord Cochrane was always unfortunate on shore, and every success was only a prelude to some disappointment or dis- aster at the hands of formal or intriguing politicians, whose modes of warfare he could not understand, and by whose stratagems he was baffled. Such it had been in his connection with Chili and Peru, and now the same lesson was to be repeated at Brazil. The division of the spoil among the victors, the share of the booty and prize-money to which the fleet was entitled, and the tendency of the government to appropriate the lion's share, without having per- formed the lion's part in running down the game, were again the subjects of controversy and quarrel; and after scenes of brawling which were in strange contrast with the heroic achievements out of which they sprung, Lord Cochrane sickened in such an ignoble element ; and, in common phrase, resolved "to cut the concern." There was nothing in the shape of personal interest or possession to detain him at Brazil; for his title of Marquis of Maran- ham was merely nominal, the government having refused to confer upon him the estate which the emperor had awarded. He accordingly departed without even the ceremony of leave-taking, and the mode of his departure was sufficient to puzzle both friend and enemy. Resolved, as he tells us, to take a short cruise for health to a more bracing latitude, he shifted his flag from the Pedro Primeiro to the frigate Piranza, and sailed northward; but after he had cruised far enough for such a pur- pose, he found his rigging in such a damaged state, and his provisions so short, that it was impos- sible to return to Rio de Janeiro. To Europe, therefore, he must go; and as a Portuguese port was dangerous, as being that of an enemy, and a Spanish port doubtful, he bore for Portsmouth, although the foreign enlistment act had condemned his late proceedings, and anchored at Spithead. As soon as this strange escapade was known at Brazil, the frigate was reclaimed, and himself ordered to return to Rio, to give an account of his proceedings; and on his refusal, he was tried during his absence as a deserter, and sentenced to the forfeiture of his arrears of pay and prize-money, and whatever con- tingent rewards he might have expected for his services. Twenty years afterwards, in consequence of his continued solicitations, the Brazilian court conducted a fresh inquiry into the case, and with a result that was honourable to his lordship ; for his title of Marquis of Maranham was recognized, and the pension awarded him which had been originally stipulated. On returning to England, Lord Cochrane, not- withstanding the renown he had won in South America, could obtain no mitigation of the sentence whose severity had driven him from service in his own country; and still as devoted to the cause of freedom as ever, and impatient of inaction, he turned his attention to Greece, that land of heroic remem- brances, which had now risen from the oppression of ages, and was contending for liberty, although at a fearful disadvantage, against both Turks and Egyp- tians. Its appeal to his sympathies was not in vain, and on his repairing to the seat of war, he prevailed upon its factious and divided leaders to establish a regular government, with Count Cnpo d'Islria for its president. General Church, an English officer, was also appointed commander of its land forces; and his lordship commander-in-chief of the Greek fleet. Athens was already invested by the enemy; the first effort of Church and Cochrane was to raise the siege; and by their joint efforts 10,000 Greek soldiers were assembled under the walls of the city. THOMAS COCHRANE. 377 But it was found impossible to combine such dis- cordant and undisciplined troops for united action, and an attempt which was made by the Greeks to relieve Athens by surprise ended in complete failure. Two days after, the attempt was to be repeated in a more orderly and promising form ; but the Greeks, who had miscalculated the time necessary for embark- ing and relanding, were themselves surprised by the enemy, and charged with such vigour by large bodies of cavalry, that they were soon put to the rout. Lord Cochrane- himself was obliged to throw himself into the sea, and swim to one of his vessels which were lying at anchor along the coast. Greece had no longer an army; and when he endeavoured to rouse the fleet to a renewal of hostilities, he found his authority as admiral so little regarded, that while some of the captains took time to deliberate, others, who were owners of the vessels they commanded, weighed anchor, and went off upon enterprises of their own. Thus ended his Greek campaign of 1827, his last attempt of battle, as well as the only one in which he had failed ; and thus melted away that fata morgana of Grecian liberty upon which the eyes of so many nations had been turned with hope. It was neither by romantic bravery nor deeds of arms that Greece was to be recalled from her long sleep of death and replaced among living nations, but by intimidation and political negotiation; and in the following year Turkey was compelled to listen to the remonstrances of the great European powers, and restore Greece to her ancient national independence. On returning from this Greek expedition, with hopes disappointed, and a spirit embittered by un- wonted failure, Lord Cochrane resumed the task he so seldom intermitted of vindicating his character from the effects of the De Berenger trial. But his enemies were still in office, and as they stood com- mitted to their former award, his indignant appeals for justice were disregarded. Thus matters continued, until the death of George IV. and the succession of William IV. produced an entire change in the poli- tical horizon. As a sailor and a Whig, the new sovereign admired the naval achievements of his lordship, and sympathized in his wrongs; the party with which Lord Cochrane was identified, and by whom his innocence had been maintained, had suc- ceeded to place and power; and the natural conse- quence of this change was, that his lordship was re- stored to his rank in the navy, an act of justice which was welcomed by the whole nation. But still, much more should have been done which was left undone, and his impassioned complaints were continued. To grant a second trial, by which the innocence of the condemned might be established, and the penalties of his sentence reversed, was contrary to the usage of English law, and his lordship's restoration to his naval rank was merely an act of royal clemency, by which his offence was forgiven, rather than declared a nonentity. In addition to this imperfect acquittal, his arrears of pay and restoration to rank as a knight of the Bath were still withheld. It was therefore in no mere spirit of discontent that he con- tinued to feel himself a deeply injured man, and de- mand a full redress. This indeed came at last, but tardily enough. In 1S41 he was promoted to the rank of vice-admiral <>t the Blue. In 1S44 he re- ceived a good-service pensi >n for services performed up to the period of his trial. In 1S47 he was re- placed in his rank as a Knight Grand Cross of the Bath; although, by some strange inconsistency, his banner was not restored to its place in the chapel of Henry VII., and was not indeed set up until the day before his funeral. In 1S4S he was appointed admiral in command of the North American and West India station. Previous to these reluctant driblets of atonement, he had in 1831, in conse- quence of the death of his father, become Earl of Dundonald. As the peace under which Europe still continued afforded no opportunity for active service, his lord- ship employed his declining years in those scientific studies to which, like his father, he was enthusi- astically addicted, and which he had never failed to resume with every interval of leisure. His in- vestigations, however, were chiefly connected with his profession, and of a substantial and practical character. He was especially aware of the great revolution that would take place in naval warfare by the use of steam, and was among the earliest who tried experiments in reference to the construction of steam-ships of war, having constructed for this pur- pose a vessel called the Janus, of extraordinary power and dimensions. Thus he remained chiefly secluded in his study until the Russian war, when its difficulties called him forth. One of the fruits of his early studies was the fabrication of a tremendous apparatus which would insure the destruction of armies and fortresses ; and this he suggested to George IV., then prince regent, soon after his arrival from the exploit in the Basque Roads. A committee was appointed to examine and report, who found the scheme so terrible that they shrank from it in dismay; and Lord Cochrane, who would only use it in defence of his own country, kept his plan a profound secret. In 1S46, when a war with France seemed imminent, he again brought forward his pro- posal, which was once more submitted to a commis- sion of three most eminent engineers; but they too were so appalled by its fearfully destructive character, that they reported it as not in "accord with the feelings and principles of civilized warfare.'' He now came forward a third time with his plan, which was to annihilate the resistance of Cronstadt or Se- bastopol; and when it was pronounced inexpedient, he offered, old as he was, to go against either of these forts, and superintend its destruction in person. But still he kept the secret locked within his own breast, and it was buried with him in his grave. And wdiat was this mysterious destructive power? Curiosity was tantalized with the question, and theory after theory was given in reply. Some thought it must be some powerful agency, the force of which no ramparts constructed by human hands could resist. Others thought it must be some shell, or explosive instrument, the bursting of which would so poison the surrounding atmosphere, that every living thing within its range would expire. As no certainty could be obtained, it formed a boundless field for fancy and conjecture. Besides these studies Lord Cochrane, during his long and varied career, published many works oi scientific and professional interest; but the most popular of his writings were Ids Autobiography 0/ a Seaman, being a history of his own lilc until the termination of his trial, and his Xarratize cj Serr :ei in the Liberation of Chili, Pent, a::.i Bra::.': w which he published after his res; ration • rank, and by which he hop. L li deeds would be known, and his fair !. after he had passed awa\ occurred p.: Kei I .on the 3 1S60, at the rij 12 ag : ol ■ gk:y- remains were intern I i tiie centre 1 f th nave, the pi reserved. 1- r the most illustri >us of Br : ..:. : v.hii the bewailed his d ; irtm ■. 11 ■' - -' ■ • '•' ' ; f ■ ■' widow, and by four sons a:: i .1 daugk: r. ! • etuate a:: otherwise im; ■■ ■ !e m n :. ■ fn m Hi- 1 ■ 373 MRS. ALICE COCKBURN. which the obloquy that obscured it is yearly passing away. COCKBURN, Mrs. Alice. This accomplished lady, who, like Lady Anne Barnard, immortalized herself by the production of a single song, was a daughter of Robert Rutherford, of Fairnalee, in Sel- kirkshire. The year of her birth is uncertain, but it appears to have been about i7ioor 1712. In her youth she must have been distinguished by her beauty, as a certain Mr. Fairbaim, who taught French in Edinburgh, mentions her by her maiden name of Alice Rutherford, with nineteen other ladies, in his work entitled V Eloge d'Feosse, as the most charming belles of the Scottish capital. Her poetical powers appear to have been recognized at an early period, and the production of her beautiful song, I've seen the Smiling of Fortune Beguiling, originated, we are told, in the following incident. A gentleman of her acquaintance, in passing through a sequestered but romantic glen, observed a shepherd at some distance tending his flocks, and amusing himself at intervals by playing on a flute. The scene altogether was very interesting, and being passion- ately fond of music, he drew nearer the spot, and listened for some time unobserved to the attractive but artless strains of the young shepherd. One of the airs in particular appeared so exquisitely wild and pathetic, that he could no longer refrain from discovering himself, in order to obtain some infor- mation respecting it from the rural performer. On inquiry, he learned that it was the Floivers of the Forest. This intelligence exciting his curiosity, he was determined, if possible, to obtain possession of the air. He accordingly prevailed on the young man to play it over and over, until he picked up every note, which he immediately committed to paper on his return home. Delighted with his new discovery, as he supposed, he lost no time in communicating it to Miss Rutherford, who not only recognized the tune, but likewise repeated some detached lines of the old ballad. Anxious, however, to have a set of verses adapted to his favourite melody, and well aware that few, if any, were better qualified than Miss Rutherford for such a task, he took the liberty of begging this favour at her hand. She obligingly consented, and, in a few days thereafter, he had the pleasure of receiving the stanzas from the fair author. Among the recollections of Sir Walter Scott, the following occurs of the circumstances under which the song was written: "A turret in the old house of Fairnalee is still shown as the place where the poem (/ have seen Hie Smiling, &c. ) was written. The occasion was a calamitous period in Selkirkshire or Fttrick Forest, when no fewer than seven lairds or proprietors, men of ancient family and inheritance, having been engaged in some im- prudent speculations, became insolvent in one year." In 1 73 1 this beautiful and talented poetess was married to Patrick Cockburn, advocate, youngest s'in of Adam Cockburn, of Ormiston, lord justice- clerk of Scotland. At a time when the Pretender and his son were keeping liritain astir with the promise of a descent upon its shores, the distinctions of Whig and Tory were matters of life-and-death im- portance, in which every member of the community had a stake; and both Mrs. Cockburn and her hus- band were keen Whigs, and standi adherents of the existing government. In this character the a Ivocatc deprived the Pretender's cause of a power- ful ally, and perhaps the expected ally himself from ruin, according to the following statement of Sir Walter Scott: "Her husband acted as commissioner fjr the Duke of Hamilton of that day; and being, as might be expected from his family, a sincere friend to the Revolution and Protestant succession, he used his interest with his principal to prevent him from joining in the intrigues which preceded the in- surrection of 1745, to which his grace (who was then only in his twenty-second year) is supposed to have had a strong inclination." Mr. Cockburn died in 1753, and his widow survived him for more than forty years. Her own death occurred in Edin- burgh on the 22d of November, 1794, when she was more than eighty years old. To this scanty record of her life (the general fate of her sex, however talented) it is fortunate that we can add a few particulars to fill up the outline, from the affectionate notices of her distinguished kinsman, Sir Walter Scott. From these we learn that Mrs. Cockburn had cultivated poetry from an early period, and that she continued to indulge in it until near the close of her life ; but in this case it was more in the spirit of an amateur than an author, her pro- ductions being chiefly short poetical pieces, or spor- tive parodies concerning passing events, or the per- sons with whom she was connected. One instance of this he gives in a set of verses, descriptive of some of her friends, which she sent to a company where most of them were assembled, and where their brief caricature likenesses were so admirably sketched, that the originals were recognized as soon as the verses were read aloud. One of these was the fol- lowing upon Sir Walter Scott's father, then a young man, and remarkably handsome, but distinguished still more highly by his upright character than his personal endowments: — "To a thing that's uncommon — A youth of discretion, Who, though vastly handsome, Despises flirtation; To the friend in affliction, The heart of affection, Who may hear the last trump Without dread of detection." In describing her style of life, we have a picture of the state of fashionable society in Edinburgh during the last century, which its "oldest living inhabitant" only saw in its departure — and over the records of which its present children can sometimes linger with regret. "My mother and Mrs. Cockburn," Sir Walter says, "were related, in what degree I know- not, but sufficiently near to induce Mrs. Cockburn to distinguish her in her will. Mrs. Cockburn had the misfortune to lose an only son, Patrick Cockburn, who had the rank of captain in the dragoons, several years before her own death. She was one of those persons whose talents for conversation made a stronger impression on her contemporaries than her writings can be expected to produce. In person and feature she somewhat resembled Queen Eliza- beth; but the nose was rather more aquiline. She- was proud of her auburn hair, which remained un- bleached by time, even when she was upwards of eighty years old. She maintained the rank in the society of Edinburgh which Frenchwomen of talents usually do in that of Paris; and in her little parlour used to assemble a very distinguished and accom- plished circle, among whom David Hume, John Home, Lord Monboddo, and many other men of name, were frequently to be found. Her evening parties were very frequent, and included society dis- tinguished both for condition and talents. The petit souper, which always concluded the evening, was like that of Stella, which she used to quote on the occasion: — 'A supper like her mighty self, Four nothings on four plates of dclf;' But they passed off more gaily than many costlier HENRY THOMAS COCKHUR.V. 579 entertainments. She spoke both wittily and well; and maintained an extensive correspondence, which, if it continues to exist, must contain many things highly curious and interesting. My recollection is, that her conversation brought her much nearer to a Frenchwoman than to a native of England; and, as I have the same impression with respect to ladies of the same period and the same rank in society, I am apt to think that the vieille coitr of Edinburgh rather resembled that of l'aris than that of St. James's; and particularly, that the Scotch imitated the Paris- ians in laying aside much of the expense and form of these little parties, in which wit and good humour were allowed to supersede all occasion of display. The lodging where Mrs. Cockburn received the best society of her time would not now afford accommoda- tion to a very inferior person." "Even at an age," Sir Walter elsewhere adds, "advanced beyond the usual bounds of humanity, she retained a play of im- agination, and an activity of intellect, which must have been attractive and delightful in youth, but were almost preternatural at her period of life. Her active benevolence, keeping pace with her genius, rendered her equally an object of love and admira- tion." The dress and appearance of this venerable lady are thus described in the letter of a lady written to Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq.: — "She had a pleasing countenance, and piqued herself upon always dressing according to her own taste, and not according to the dictates of fashion. Her brown hair never grew gray; and she wore it combed up upon a toupee — no cap — a lace hood tied under her chin, and her sleeves puffed out in the fashion of Queen Elizabeth, which is not uncommon now, but at that time was quite peculiar to herself." And thus, after having bloomed for well nigh a century, and when an entire change of society was at hand, the last flower of the forest was "wede away," leaving a native fragrance behind her which time will not soon extinguish. COCKBURN, Henry Thomas, one of the lords of session, and a lord-commissioner of justiciary. This accomplished scholar, eminent lawyer, and upright judge, was born in 1 77S, and was the son of Archibald Cockburn, a baron of the court of exchequer in Scot- land. His family connections and influence naturally selected the law for his profession, and after a suitable education for the purpose, Henry Thomas Cockburn was called to the Scottish bar in 1S00. Put it was no easy arena into which he had entered; for the ground was preoccupied by Titans, and of these it is enough to mention the names of George Cranstoun, Thomas Thomson, Francis Jeffrey, Fullerton, and Moncrieff. To win distinction amidst such a band of talented competitors, and be enrolled among their number, was no ordinary achievement; but this he accomplished, and was soon distinguished as one of the most talented of our Scottish advocates. There were other circumstances abo more difficult perhaps to overcome than that of such a rivalry; for he was of small stature and homely countenance — obstacles naturally of serious detriment to the progress of an orator and pleader. He also persisted in the use of the Scotch dialect, although the literary taste of the day had banished it, and when even ordinary feeling was condemning it as low and vulgar. "Mr. Cock- burn, "savs I.ockhart, in Peter s Letter. :: his Kinsfolks, "is a homely speaker; but he carries his homeliness to a length which I do not remember ever to have heard any other truly great speaker venture upon. He uses the Scottish dialect — always its music, and not unfrequcntly its words —quite as broadly as Mr. Clerk of Eldin, an 1 perhaps at first hearing with rather more vulgarity of effect; for he :s a young man, and I have already hinted that no young man can speak Scotch with the same impunity as an old one." "Nevertheless," the same author adils, "I am sure no man who has witnessed the efTect which Mr. Cockburn produces upon a Scottish jury would wish to see him alter anything in his mode of address- ing them. . . . His use of the language, and his still more exquisite use of the images and allusions of common Scottish life, must contribute in the most powerful manner to his success in this first great ob- ject of all his rhetoric. There is an air of broad and undisguised sincerity in the simple tones and ener- getic phrases he employs, which find, its way like a charm to the very bottom of the hearts around him. He sees it painted in their beaming and expanding faces, and sees, and knows, and feels at once that his eloquence is persuasive. Once so far victorious, he is thenceforth irresistible. He has established an understanding between himself and his audience — a feeling of fellowship and confidence of communion which nothing can disturb. The electricity of thought and of sentiment passes from his face to theirs, and thrills back again from theirs to his. He has fairly come into contact; he sees their breasts lie bare to his weapon, and he will make no thrust in vain." To the same effect is the description of another Scotch writer, by which the portrait of Cockburn at the bar is complete. "As a pleader, especially in criminal cases or jury trials, we shall never again see the equal of Mr. Cockburn. Jeffrey alone, and that only on some occasions, approached him. His sagacity, his brevity, his marvellous power of expression — so homely, yet so truly and touchingly eloquent — his mingled pathos and humour, his winning Scotch manner, his masterly analysis of evidence, and the intense earnestness, not the less effective that it was visibly chastened and restrained, with which he iden- tified himself with his client — made his appeals to Scottish juries always powerful, and frequently resistless." In this manner the career of Cockburn was con- tinued as an advocate until 1S30. I lis history for years had exclusively been that of a brilliant and successful lawyer, but without the political promotion to which such high talents were entitled; and for this neglect his political opinions were sufficient to account. Ib- had commenced public life as a Whig; he had adhered unflinchingly to the principles of his party even when they were the most obnoxious to the ruling power-, and could expect nothing more from government than forbearance in return. It was too well known that he was the friend of the chief supporters of the Edin- burgh Rericzv, and an occasional contributor to its pages, and that there was no hope of purchasing his recantation. But the great political change in the year above-mentioned, by which his party came into place and power, reversed this order of things, and while Jeffrey was appointed lord-advocate, Cockburn became solicitor-general for Scotland. In lS34bot.i1 were elevated to the bench, and as a judge. Lord Cockburn was distinguished by the same high char- acterwhich he had won as an advocate. "Asa '.: !ge. says the writer from whom we have Lis' quoted, "hi was distinguished by his skilful I tecti in principle or in evidence, by breadth and d;>tii ness 1 if view, not unfrequei th reo ivii ^ the 1 i.hrn.a- ti >n of the House -1" l.< '• 1 >' '• - - and luminous exposition, by purity of character, and I '•■'■ iiityr.nl courte-y of demeanour.'' In 1S37 he 1 ktiona! appointment of a lord-o mm --. >i ;• . an i here his pr I ' In the life if L >r.l < - ire fev. n: JOHN COCKBURN. of a public character to narrate; his course was an even tenor, and its chief events were the transitions by which he rose to the highest place in his profession. In private life, while he held by his distinctive prin- ciples, he was too good-natured to obtrude them upon society; and this forbearance, with his many lovable qualities, made him be esteemed by all parties alike. It was often a subject of regret with those who knew his varied abilities out of the range of his own pro- fession, that he had not attempted to establish for himself a permanent reputation by authorship; but except a few articles in the Edinburgh Review and other periodicals, he published nothing until 1852, when he had attained the ripe age of seventy-four years. lie then produced the Life of Lord Jeffrey, and a volume of his correspondence — a work so ad- mirably written, and containing such vivid delinea- tions of the distinguished men of a departed age, and the fashions of past Scottish life, as well as a minute record of his hero, that the work, notwithstanding the transient nature of the subjects, is still a favourite with the reading public of our country. One peculi- arity of Lord Cockbum by which his popularity was enhanced, was his intense love of the site, scenery, and architecture of Edinburgh, and his consequent endea- vours that these should cither be untouched by modern innovations, or at least treated with a gentle and careful hand; and the changes proposed by town- councils and civic architects, by which his beloved " Auld Reekie" was to be beautified, he either watched with a jealous eye, or could not patiently tolerate. These feelings set his pen in motion with an intensity indicative of a ruling passion strong in death, so that four or five years before he died he wroteapungently sarcastic pamphlet, entitled The Best Way of Spoiling the Beauty of Edinburgh; and scarcely three weeks before his death he addressed two letters to an influ- ential Edinburgh newspaper in favour of the south- east angle of East Prince's Street, as the best site attainable for the restoration of Trinity College Church. Nor was this love of beauty in Lord Cockbum confined to mere theory, but was an active principle, which his house of Bonaly, near Colinton, and the pleasure-grounds that surrounded it, testified, where he had bestowed time, labour, skill, and money in their improvement, although there was no son to inherit his labours and sacrifices. It was here finally that his lordship died, on the 26th of April, 1854, after a brief illness of five days. COCKBURN, Joiix, of Ormiston, the father of Scottish husbandry, was born in the latter part of the seventeenth century. His father, Adam Cock- burn, of Ormiston (in East Lothian), held the eminent office of lord-justice clerk after the Revolu- tion. His mother was i.ady Susan Hamilton, third daughter of John, fourth Earl of Haddington. So early as the days of the Reformation, the family had distinguished itself by its zeal in behalf of liberal institutions and public liberty. The laird of that day maintained an alliance with the English refor- mers, when hardly any other Scottish gentleman dared to oppose the tyranny of Beatoun; and it was in his house that the celebrated Ceorgc Wishart was found, previous to his being brought to trial and burned. From that period down to the Revolution the Cock- burns of Ormiston were invariably on the liberal : ! ■ of the question. The subject of this memoir inherited all the patriotism of his race, and in the lifetime of his father, in his capacity as a member of the last Scottish parliament, took an active interest in accomplishing the union. He was the first repre- sentative of East Lothian in the parliament of Oreat Britain, and continued to be elected to that distin- guished place in all the successive parliaments till 1 741. Mr. Cockburn at one period of his parlia- mentary career held the post of lord of the admiralty. It was not, however, in a political career that he was destined to gather his chief laurels. At the close of the seventeenth century, on account of the religious and civil broils which had so long distracted the country, the condition of agriculture in Scotland was at a very low ebb. The tenantry, so far from being able to make any improvement, were too poor in general even to stock the lands they occupied. Fletcher of Salton, who published a treatise on the affairs of Scotland, in 1698, describes their situation as abject and miserable; and Lord Kaimes, in still stronger language, declares, that before the union they were so benumbed with oppression, that the most able tutor in husbandry would have made no- thing of them. By a short-sighted policy the land- lords in general had no other principle than to force as much from the soil for every passing year as they could. The tenants were so much disheartened, that it was difficult to let a farm, and none were taken upon leases of more than five years. But even if other circumstances had been more favourable, there was such a rooted prepossession in favour of old systems, and so much ignorance of the science of agriculture, that improvement was almost hopeless. Lord Ormiston, father of Mr. Cockburn, had made an attempt so early as 1698 to break through the old system of short leases. He then granted Robert Wight, eldest son of Alexander Wight, one of his tenants in Ormiston, a lease of the farm of Muir- house, now Murray s, to endure tor eleven years. Mr. Wight accordingly commenced inclosing his fields, a process heretofore quite unknown in Scotland. In 1 713 Lord Ormiston granted to the same person a lease of a neighbouring farm to endure for nine years. John Cockburn, who became possessed of the estate about the year 1714, immediately entered upon a much more extensive system of improvement. He had marked with extreme concern the supine condition of Scottish husbandry, which his parlia- mentary visits to England had enabled him to con- trast with the more fortunatecondition of that country; and with an enlarged liberality of soul, which scorned all his own immediate interests for the sake of ulti- mate general good, he began to grant long leases of his farms upon exceedingly small rents. As an in- stance it may be mentioned, that he granted to Robert Wight a new lease of the Murrays farm for thirty- eight years, from 1718, at a rent of ,£750 Scots, or £62, 10s. od. sterling, and upon paying .£1200 Scots, or .£100 sterling, by way of fine or grassum, at the expiration of that term, a renewal thereof for other nineteen years, and so on from one period ol nineteen years to another in all time coming: a de- gree of liberality which speaks more strongly than anything else possibly could, for the backward state of agriculture at the time. But the enterpris- ing spirit of Mr. Cockburn did not rest here. In giving long leases he had enabled his tenants to make the improvements he wished; but still it was necessary to teach them how these improvements should be conducted, for this purpose lie brought down skilful persons from England, who introduced the culture of turnips, rape, and clover; and at the same time he sent up the sons of his tenant- to study agriculture in the best cultivated districts of the south. Experiments were likewise made of the effects ol enriching the land by flooding. Turnips were sown upon the estate so early as 1 725, ami Alexander Wight, one of his tenants, was probably the first man in the island who sowed them in drills, and JOHN' COCKBURN — PATRICK COLQUHOUN. 38' cultivated them with the plough. The culture of this valuable root was brought by him to such per- fection, that, in 1735, a turnip of his raising, weigh- ing 34Vf lbs, was carried to Edinburgh, and hung up in John's coffee-house as a show. Even while engaged in his public duties in Eng- land, Mr. Cockburn was constantly reverting in thought to the improvements he had set on foot in East Lothian, and he carried on a constant corres- pondence with his tenants respecting the progress of their mutual plans. In some of these letters he breathes the strongest sentiments of benevolence and patriotism. "No person,"says he to Mr. Alexander Wight in 1725, "can have more satisfaction in the prosperity of his children, than I have in the welfare of persons situated on my estate. I hate tyranny in every shape; and shall always show greater pleasure in seeing my tenants making something under me they can call their own, than in getting a little more money myself, by squeezing a hundred poor families, till their necessities make them my slaves." His proceedings were at first the subject of ridicule among the more narrow-minded of his neighbours; but the results in time overpowered every mean feel- ing, and gradually inspired a principle of imitation. In 1726 he encouraged his tenant Alexander Wight in setting up a malting brewery and distillery, which soon got into repute, and promoted the rais- ing of grain in the neighbourhood. As a prelim- inary step to further improvements, he reformed the village of Ormiston, changing it from the original mean and squalid hamlet into a neat and well-built street. He then commenced a series of operations for setting up a linen manufactory. This he con- sidered as one of the staple trades of Scotland, and as the best support of the general interest. He viewed it as intimately connected with husbandry; the land affording an opportunity of producing the raw article to the manufacturers, while they in return fur- nished hands for carrying on agricultural works, especially in harvest, and for the consumption of its various produce. To attain these objects, an emi- nent undertaker from Ireland, both in the manufactur- ing and whitening of linen, was induced to take up his residence at Ormiston; and a favourable lease of a piece of ground for a bleachfield and some lands in the neighbourhood was granted to him. This was the first bleachfield in East Lothian, pro- bably the second in Scotland — for, before 1730, fine linens were sent to Haarlem in Holland to be whitened and dressed. It is said that this Irish colony was the means of introducing the potato in Scotland, at least as an object of field culture; and that valuable root was raised in the grounds on this estate so early as 1734. Mr. Cockburn also intro- duced some workmen from Holland, to give instruc- tions in the art of bleaching. He obtained for his rising manufactory the patronage of the board of trustees, and likewise some pecuniary ait I. About the year 1736 the progress of agricultural improvement at Ormiston had excited so much notice all over Scotland, that Mr. Cockburn, always awake to every circumstance which could forwaril his darling object, seized upon such a notable opportunity of disseminating useful knowledge among his brother proprietors and their tenantry. He instituted what was called the Ormiston Society, composed of noble- men, gentlemen, and farmers, who met monthly for the discussion of some appropriate question in rural economv, settled upon at their former meeting, on which question all the members present delivered their opinion. This club lasted for about eleven years, and was of great service in promoting the views of its founder. It consisted at last of 106 members, comprising almost all the best intellects of Scotland at that time. Mr. Cockburn was married, first, in 1700, to the Hon. Miss Beatrix Carmichael, eldest daughter of John, first Earl of Hyndford; secondly, to an English lady, related to the Duchess of Gordon, by whom he- had a son named George. It is distressing to think that, about the year 1748, this great patriot was obliged, probably in consequence of his spirited exer- tions for the public good, to dispose of his estate to the Earl of I fopetoun. 1 le died at his son's house at the Navy Office, London, on the 12th of November, 1758. His son, who was a comptroller of the navy, married Caroline, Baroness Eorrestcr in her own right, and was the father of Anna Maria, also Baron- ess Eorrestcr in her own right, who died unmarried in 180S. — Patrick Cockburn, advocate, brother of the agriculturist, was married, in 1731, to Miss Alice Rutherford of Faimalee, a woman of poetical genius, authoress of the more modern verses to the tune of The Flowers of the Forest, and who died in Edin- burgh, November 22, 1794. It would be difficult to do full justice to the merit, of such a character as Cockburn of Ormiston, or to describe the full effects of his exertions upon the in- terests of his country. It may be said that he lived at a time when the circumstances of Scotland were favourable to improvement, as it was the first age of reaction after a long depression. Put, although the country would have made great advances with- out his aid, there can be little doubt that he consider- ably anticipated the natural period of improvement, and gave it an impulse much greater than was likely to be otherwise received. On what other principle- are we to account for the immense degree to which the agriculture of Scotland now transcends that of England — the country from which it so recently de- rived its first hints in the art? COLQUHOUN, Patrick, a writer on statistics and criminal jurisprudence, was born at Dumbarton. March 14, 1745. His father, who acted as registrar of the county records, was nearly allied to Sir Robert Colquhoun, Part, of Nova Scotia, and also to Sir James Colquhoun of Luss. Having lost his father ere he attained his sixteenth year, Patrick Colquhoun determined, like many others of his countrymen, to seek his fortune abroad. He settled on what was called the Eastern Shore in Virginia, where for five years he carried on commercial pursuits. It was the general custom of the inhabitants of this district to cross the Chesapeake Pay twice a year, in order to transact business at the seat of government; and such were the qualifications for public business man even at this early period by Mr. Colquhoun. that many were in the habit of trusting their concerns to him, instead of going to the general mart in person. Besides carrying on these trading speculations, he studied very hard at this time, and endea; both by reading intelligent books and com with intelligent men. particularly of the legal pro- fession, to tit himself for public duties. In 1; '. when twenty-one years of age. he re: country for the sake of his health., and settled as a merchant in Glasgow, where he so >;i alter m a lady of his own name, the daughter of the ; r >vo-t of Dumbarton. On the breaking u! f the war with the colonies, Mr. Colquhoun sidi 1 v. ith and in 1776 he was one of fourteen J 1 tributorsto a fund for rai-ing '■ ' dasgow, for his majesty's service in that struggle. 1! became a pers >n • f ] '.' cecdol, in 17S0, in carrying bill of irreat co'.ise ;uence to the r.-.lry. FATRICK COLQUHOUN. In 1 781, when occupying a place in the town-council of Glasgow, he suggested and carried forward to completion the design for building the coffee-house and exchange in that city. Next year he was elected provost of Glasgow. He now became the founder of that excellent institution, the Chamber of Com- merce and Manufactures at Glasgow, of which he was the first chairman. While holding these dis- tinguished offices, he was also chairman of the com- mittee of management of the Forth and Clyde canal, and the leading manager of various other public bodies. A genius for business on a large scale was conspicuous in all his undertakings. In 1 7S5 he repaired to London to obtain legislative relief for the cotton trade, then in a languishing condition, and for some years afterwards he devoted a large portion of his time to similar objects. In 1788 he visited Ostend, then a depot for East India goods, to ascertain how far similar British manufactures could enter into competition with the imports of the Flemings; and it was owing to his exertions that our muslins, then an infant manufacture, became so ex- tensively known throughout the Continent. Con- nected with this subject he published three pamphlets, which tended to make his efforts known to the Bri- tish merchants. In the same year Mr. Colquhoun laid the plan of a general hall in London for the sale of cottons, which, however, was rendered of little effect by the breaking out of the war with France. ( )n this subject he also published a pamphlet. In the month of November, 1789, he settled with his family in London, and soon after began to project those improvements in the London police and magis- tracy, by which he earned the principal part of his fame. The police of London was at this time in a state of shameful inefficiency, while the magistrates, except in the city itself, were a set of low mercenary individuals, known by the justly opprobrious title of trading justices. On this subject Mr. Colquhoun composed several popular treatises, and in 1792, when seven public offices were established, with three justices to each, he was appointed to one of them, through the influence of his friend Mr. Henry Dundas, afterwards Viscount Melville. His exer- tions as a magistrate were of a nature truly useful; and he published the result of his experience in 1796, under the title of A Treatise on the Police of t/ie Metropolis, explaining the Various Crimes and Mis- demeanours which at present are felt as a Pressure on the Community, and suggesting Remedies. This work earned a merited reputation, and went through a large annual reprint for the five succeeding years. It obtained the praise of the select committee of finance, and particular marks of approbation from the Luke of Portland, then secretary of state for the home department. He was, in consequence of this work, appointed agent in Great Britain for the colony of the Virgin Isles. In 1800 appeared his treatise on the Poliee of the River Thames, a work certainly demanded in no small degree by the circumstances. Though it may hereafter appear almost incredible, it is nevertheless true, that the shipping of London, previous to this period, was totally unprotected from the vast hordes of thieves which always exist in a large city. While- property on the banks of the river was so far protected, that which floated on the river itself had no protection whatever. A ingly, a generation of thieves, (ailed mudlarks, prowled constantly about the vessels, and made prey annually of property to a vast amount. Not only did the cargoes suffer, but even sails, anchor-, and other such bulky articles, were abstracted by these daring depredators. For many years this had been 1..: as a grievous hardship, but it is amazing how long an evil may be tolerated for which no remedy has been provided by the necessities of our ancestors. It was looked upon as a matter of course, a mischief incident to the situation of things; and as each in- dividual only suffered his share of the immense amount of loss, there had been no general effort at a reformation. Mr. Colquhoun's work, however, effectually roused public attention to the subject, and an effective river police was immediately instituted, by which the shipping has been ever since fully pro- tected. For his services on this occasion, the West India merchants presented him with the sum of Although Mr. Colquhoun bore externally a some- what pompous and domineering aspect, and was certainly a zealous advocate for keeping the people in due subjection to the powers above them, there never perhaps was a heart more alive than his to the domestic interests of the poor, or a mind more actively bent upon improving both their physical and moral condition. He was one of the first men in this country who promoted a system of feeding the poor, in times of severe distress, by cheap and wholesome soups. And, in the famine of 1S00, few men were more active in behalf of the starving popu- lation. He also took an early interest in the system of charity schools, being of opinion that the true way of improving the condition of the people was to en- lighten their minds. In 1S03 he was instrumental in founding a school in Orchard Street, Westminster, in which three or four hundred children of both sexes were taught the rudiments of human knowledge. He also published in 1S06 a work entitled A Neio System of Education for the Labouring People, which obtained an extensive circulation. Two years after- wards appeared his Treatise on Indigence, in which the institution of a provident bank is strongly urged. In 1797 Mr. Colquhoun was honoured with the degree of LL.D. by the university of Glasgow, in consequence of his services in that part of the king- dom. Throughout the course of his long and useful life, he received many other testimonies of the public approbation. His last work appeared in 1814, under the title, A Treatise on the Population, Wealth, Power, and Resources of 'the British Empire, in every Quarter of the World, including the East Indies. Dr. Col- quhoun's publications in all amount to twenty; and of these an accurate list is given in the Annual Obituary for 1812. After having been concerned in public life for about thirty-nine years, during which he had transacted business with eight or ten succes- sive administrations, in 181 7 he tendered his resigna- tion as a magistrate, in consequence of his increasing years and infirmities; this, however, was not accepted by Lord Sidmouth until the subsequent year, when the secretary of state for the home department ex- pressed the high sense entertained of his long and faithful services by his majesty's government. Dr. Colquhoun died of a schirrous stomach, April 25, 1820, in the seventy-sixth year of his age. The character of I)r. Colquhoun lias been thus drawn by Dr. Lettsom: — "When the importance of the morals of the community, with its influence on individual as well as general happiness, is duly con- sidered, one cannot but contemplate a public char- acter, who, with unceasing exertion, endeavours to promote every virtuous and charitable sentiment, with gratitude and reverence; a magistrate clothed with power to enforce obedience, but possessing benevolence more coercive than power; who is emi- nently vigilant to arrest in its progress every species of vice, and commiserates, as a man humanized by Christian amenities, every deviation from rectitude, and reforms while he pities- such is a being clothed ANDREW COMBE. #: with robes of divinity. Tn this point of view, I, indeed, saw my friend, Patrick Colquhoun, Esq., whose exertions point to every direction where morals require correction, or poverty and distress the aid of active benevolence. As an indefatigable magistrate, and an able writer in general, Mr. Colquhoun is well known throughout Europe. I introduce him in this place as the founder and promoter of various in- stitutions for supplying the poor, in distress, with cheap and nutritious articles of food, to an extent truly astonishing, and without which famine must have been superadded to poverty. The enumeration alone of my friend's publications must evince the activity of his benevolence, with which his time and fortune have ever kept pace. May the reader en- deavour to emulate his virtues ! lie will then not only diffuse happiness among the community, par- ticularly the lower classes, but insure the supreme enjoyment of it in his individual capacity." COMBE, Andrew, M.D. This excellent physi- cian and physiologist was the fifteenth child and seventh son of Mr. George Combe, brewer, at Livingston's Yards, in the suburbs of Edinburgh, and Marion Newton, his wife, and was born on tiie 27th of October, 1797. After being educated in the initiatory branches at a private seminary, he was sent, at the age of eight, to the high-school of Edin- burgh, and having continued there at the study of Latin and Greek for five years, he went to the uni- versity, where, in the course of two seasons, he con- trived to forget what Latin he had learned at school, and become a respectable Grecian. But with all this teaching of dead languages, his own was allowed to shift as it might, so that, although he could read Homer, he was unable to pen a tolerable ordinary epistle. Like many others under a similar process of tuition, and who have risen to distinction in spite of such perversity, Andrew Combe, by the diligent self-cultivation of after-years, acquired that mastery of the English language, and excellence in composi- tion, which his works so fully attest. After he had passed a sickly taciturn boyhood, and entered his fifteenth year, it was fitting that he should announce the future profession he meant to follow; but to every question on this head from his parents, his invariable answer was, "I'll no be naething.'' They understood these two negatives in the Scottish ac- ceptation, of course, and reckoning such a choice of total idleness inexpedient in one of a family of seven- teen children, his father chose for him the medical profession, into which the apathetic youth was to be inducted without further delay. Accordingly, in spite of all his struggles, Andrew was forced into a new suit of clothes, carried out of the house, and trotted along by dint of pulling and pushing, to the dwelling of his future master, where he was bound and left — to an apprenticeship which he had no future cause to regret. After finishing his apprenticeship, during which he attended the usual medical course at the univer- sity and the public hospital. Andrew Combe, when he had entered upon his twentieth year, took the diploma of surgeon. Previous to this event his in- tellectual habits had received not only a fresh im- pulse, but also a new direction, from the study of phrenology, which was introduced into Edinburgh through the arrival and lectures of Dr. Spurzheim. Of this science Mr. George Combe, afterwards its distinguished advocate, became an earnest student, and his younger brother Andrew was not long in following the example. The latter, however, v. lien he had little more than commenced his inquiries in earnest upon the subject, went to Paris in 1S17 to perfect hims If in his professional studies. The Continent was now opened to Britain by the general peace, and our medical students were eager to avail themselves of the opportunity by completing their education in the French capital. Among the Parisian lecturers on the various departments of science whom Andrew Comix; attended fur thi~ purpose, he was so fortunate as to l professional Ism "•'■.' the encouragement of friend.-, went, for tin mencement of business a- a m> titioner; but, unfortunateiv, he re di 1 lor hnn-eli tr.e a: . which he should' have imparted to others In i rambles in Switzerland he had strength, and. on returning to L;.:.. -:_.-. a ceiu 3 S 4 ANDREW COMBE. room and damp bed confirmed tlie evil. A voyage to Italy was judged necessary for his recovery, and he embarked at Greenock for Leghorn at the end of the following year. The cure was effectual, for he returned to Edinburgh in May, 1822, and soon after commenced practice as a surgeon, while his extensive family connection, and the reputation he had already acquired, soon procured him an exten- sive circle of occupation. At this time, also, he first appeared before the world as an author, in an essay On the Effects of Injuries of the Brain upon the Mani- festations of the Mind, which was first read before the Phrenological Society, and afterwards published in its Transactions. In this way he brought his beloved science into full play at the commencement of his public life, not only in a literary but also a professional capacity, notwithstanding the obloquy and derision with which it was generally treated at this period. In 1823, while the phrenological con- troversy was at its height, Mr. Combe again entered the field in its defence, by an essay entitled Observa- tions on Dr. Barclay^ Objections to Phrenology, which was also published in the Transactions of the society. In the same year he, in conjunction with four others, established the Phrenological Journal, to which he was an active contributor till his death. In 1836 he collected the most important of these articles, and published them in a separate volume. Eager to extend the knowledge of a science to which he was so devoted, and justify its claims to universal atten- tion, he also hazarded their introduction into a quarter where they were little likely to appear with- out a severe examination. This was in the Royal Medical Society of Edinburgh, of which he was a member, and before which lie was obliged in his turn to write a dissertation upon a subject selected by a committee of the society. The question pro- posed in 1823 was, "Does Phrenology afford a satisfactory Explanation of the Moral and Intellec- tual Faculties of Man?" and Mr. Combe was ap- propriately selected to write the dissertation. He set to work upon the question con amore, and pro- duced a digest of all he had learned, thought, and observed, to bear upon the affirmative, while the discussions that followed upon the subject occupied two nights of earnest debate before crowded aud- iences. This able article, which was first published in the Phrenological Journal, was also included in the volume of Selections to which we have already alluded. In 1825 he graduated as doctor of medi- cine, and on that occasion chose for the subject of his thesis, "The Seat and Nature of Hypochon- driasis," which was also published in an enlarged form in the Phrenological Journal, and the Selec- tions. In commencing the medical art, first as surgeon and afterwards as doctor, Combe was made aware of two faults which, in his course of practice, he care- fully laboured to avoid. The first was that of never interposing until the crisis of danger had arrived. No rules were prescribed either to avoid a disease or escape the repetition of an attack after the first had been conquered. As long as the patient was upon his legs he might use what diet or exercise he pleased: upon all this the man of healing was silent ; he thought it enough to come in at the moment of danger, and treat the sufferer secundum artem until the danger was over, without troubling himself about the morrow; and if fresh excesses produce a deadlier renewal of the malady, he was ready to double the dose, and proportion the penance to the evil. The homely proverb, that "prevention is better than cure," was too vulgar a rule for scientific notice; and it was only when the disease fairly showed face that a doctor girded himself for the onset. This was anything but satisfactory to Dr. Combe, so that, in his treatment of every malady, he was more solicitous to prevent its occurrence than to show his profes- sional prowess by overcoming it at its height; and if the constitution of the patient made the disease a natural tendency, his medical skill was exerted in showing how the coming of the evil might be re- tarded, or its inflictions softened. Hence his careful- ness in inculcating the rules of diet and exercise, of ablution and ventilation, which, homely and com- mon-place as they are, and therefore deemed un- suited to a learned physician, are yet the true essen- tials of the healing art. Another fault which he was also careful to avoid, was that of dictating to the patient the medical regulations that were to be strictly followed without assigning a cause, or enlisting his reason in their behalf. A blind, implicit faith was exclusively demanded by too many of our medical practitioners, and the remedy was to be used without question or scruple. Dr. Combe saw that, how- ever this pope-like assumption of infallibility might gratify the vanity of the physician, it was little likely to benefit the patient, more especially if his faith was of that unruly kind that requires argument and proof. He therefore tried to enlist the reason of the patient in behalf of the rules prescribed for his cure, and showed so much of the nature, origin, and tendencies of the disease as would enable him to co-operate in its removal. "The consequences of this mode of proceeding," says his biographer, "were equally beneficial to his patients and to himself. They be- came convinced that it was nature that was dealing with them, and that, although they might 'cheat the doctor,' they could not arrest the progress of. her evolutions, or escape from aggravated evils, if they obstructed the course of her sanative action. Under these convictions they obeyed his injunctions with earnestness and attention. By being premonished of approaching symptoms, which were frequently steps in the progress of the cure, but which, if not explained, might have been regarded as aggravations of the malady, they were saved from much alarm, and he from many unnecessary calls and attendances. His present biographer had ample opportunities of remarking how few messages, even during the busiest seasons of his practice, came to him from patients under treatment, and how very rarely he was called upon to visit them during the night. He ascribed this comparative immunity from nocturnal calls to the explanations and pre-arrangements now adverted to." It was not till 1S31 that Dr. Combe appeared as the author of a separate work, as his productions had hitherto been articles and essays, which were afterwards published in the form of pamphlets. Among the subjects he had studied in connection with phrenology was that of insanity; and from its importance, as well as the general interest which several cases of mental disease had lately excited, he resolved to give at full length the fruits of his study on this painful malady, with a view to its pre- vention, amelioration, and cure. The title of the work he published was Observations on Mental De- rangement ; being an Application of the Principles of Phrenology to the Elucidation of the Causes, Symptoms, Nature, and Treatment of Insanity. After this, his close application to professional duties, in which he embarked with his whole heart, and the physiological studies that occupied every moment of his leisure time, so exhausted his delicate constitution, that intermission and change of climate were again found necessary ; and accordingly he spent the winter of 1831-32 in Italy, and the following year in Edin- ANDREW COMBE - burgh, London, and Paris. In 1834, though his health was still infirm, he published in Edinburgh The Principles of Physiology applied to the Preserva- tion of Health, and to the Improvement of Physical and Mental Education. This work was so favour- ably received, and continued to be so highly valued, that at the period of his death 28,000 copies of it had been sold, exclusive of the numerous editions that had been published in the United States of North America. So highly was Dr. Combe's pro- fessional reputation now established, that in 1836 he was honoured with the appointment of physician to the Ring of the Belgians. This occasioned two visits to Brussels during the same year. At the same time he published his Physiology of Digestion, considered 'with Relation to the Principles of Dietetics, which went through nine editions. In 1838 Dr. Combe was appointed one of the physicians extra- ordinary to the queen in Scotland, an office of pro- fessional honour merely, as no salary is attached to it. In 1840 he published A Treatise on the Physio- logical and Moral Management of Infancy ; being a Practical Exposition of the Principles of Infant Training, for the Use of Parents. This work, which was highly esteemed, and obtained an extensive circulation, he continued to improve till his death. His last effort in authorship was an article on phren- ology, which was published in the British and For- eign Medical Review for January, 1840. Enough has been said in the foregoing narrative to show that Dr. Combe, although so able a physi- cian, was himself often in need of the benefits of the healing art. Originally of a delicate and consump- tive constitution, through which the activity and application of his early youth had been frequently checked, his maladies had increased from year to year, so that in 1S34 he was obliged to renounce the more active part of his profession, and confine him- self to consulting practice. His constitution rallied in consequence of this relief, and from 1837 to 1841 he enjoyed a better state of health than he had hitherto experienced. At a later period, however. his ailments returned, and with so permanent a hold, as convinced him that, however lingering his last illness might be, it had now commenced in good earnest. Still, however, his wonted tranquillity, and even cheerfulness, were unabated ; and to the last he continued to correspond with his friends upon those important subjects which had formed the great study of his life. At length, by the recommendation of his medical advisers, he tried the effect of the climate of Madeira, to which island he repaired in November, 1842. After having dwelt a few months there and returned home, he was obliged to make a second visit to Madeira, where he wintered during 1S43 44- J ^ s vo y a -I' n g wa S found beneficial in pro- tracting at least the inevitable termination of his disease, he tried the effect of a trip to New York in the spring of 1S47. But this, the last, was the most unfortunate of all his voyages, for the vessel in which he sailed carried 360 steerage passengers, chiefly Irish emigrants; and as the steerage extended from stem to stern of the vessel, the cabin overhead was pervaded during the whole passage with a sickening atmosphere, the effect of which accelerated his dis- solution. Having made a three-weeks' sojourn in New York, he returned to Scotland; and only six weeks subsequently he died, after a short illness, on the 9th of August, 1 S47. He had thus only reached the age of fifty, but the chief subject of wonder is, that he had lived so long and done so much. He could never have held out so well but for his close and conscientious attention to those rules of health which he recommended to others; and thus, although VOL. I. GEORGE COM UK. 385 he might be considered a dying man at the age of confirmed manhood, he was permitted to enjoy that which, above every other earthly blessing, he most valued— a life of thorough and benevolent usefulness. Even to the last he was thus occupied; and when the pen dropped from his fingers, it was in the act of writing to a friend for information alxuit the regula- tion, of emigrant vessels, as he was at that time em- ployed, during the brief interval, of his last illness in preparing a communication upon the ship-fever, which in that year was so fatal in the statistics of British emigration. "Dr. Combe belonged," as is well observed by one who intimately knew and deeply loved him, "to that rare class of physicians who present professional knowledge in connection with the powers of a philosophical intellect; and yet, in practical matters, appear constantly under the guidance of a rich natural sagacity. All his works are marked by a peculiar earnestness, lucidity, and simplicity, characteristic of the author; they present hygienic principles with a clearness for which we know no parallel in medical literature. To this must be ascribed much of the extraordinary success they have met with; and on this quality undoubtedly rest ■, no small portion of their universally acknowledged utility. . . . The personal character and private life of Dr. Combe formed a beautiful and harmonious commentary upon his writings. In the bosom of his family, and the limited social circle to which his weakly health confined him, he was the same benig- nant and gentle being whom the world finds addres- sing it in these compositions. . . . Kindly and cordial to all, he did not seem to feel as if he could have an enemy; and therefore, we believe, he never had one. It might almost have been said that he was too gentle and unobtrusive; and so his friends perhaps would have thought him, had it not, on the other hand, appeared as the most befitting character of one who, they all knew, was not to be long spared to them, and on whom the hues of a brighter and more angelic being seemed already to be shed." COMBE, GEORGE. This enthusiastic phreno- logist and practical moral philosopher was born r; Kdinburgh, October 21, 17SS; and being ten years older than his brother Andrew Combe, M.D., the subject of the preceding memoir, he was enabled to superintend the education of the latter, and give a direction to his physiological and moral studies. Having adopted the legal profession. George Combe became a writer to the signet in 1S12. and continued with undivided attention to follow this occupation; when, in 1S16, an event occurred that gave his mind a new bias. In that year Dr. Spurzheim visited Scotland, and by his lectures and conversa- tions on phrenology not only aroused the public attention, but the public astonishment. Men were taught that not merely the intellectual character was dimly indicated upon the forehead of each indi\ but all his qualities — intellectual, moral, and ; 1 — mapped out one by one over the win le 1 : 1 ' . his skull; and that he thus carried al character written in letters about which neither be suspicion nor controversy. I. his considerate countrymen. Ge rge < cm! - r." I;r-t was hard of belief, and regarded -ystem and its advocate with aversion; but fur! removed his prejudice--, and convinced h startling theory had fact for its basis. He b not only a believer in the truth of j . y. but its ardent, eloquent, disinterested expositor; and continued with tiie earnestness I to ex- pound its doctrines, until he had made a 1 number of influential c inverts, of whom he was the 25 3 S6 GEORGE COMBE ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE. recognized leader and head. Nor was this a situa- tion with which a merely ambitious man would have been contented; for in hard-headed and orthodox Scotland, phrenology was regarded not only as a monstrosity in science, but a heresy in religion. He persevered, however, until society was persuaded to listen to its claims, and acknowledge that they were neither ridiculous nor atheistical. The life of Combe was henceforth bound up in the science which he so devotedly loved. Mainly through his exertions it lived and flourished in Scot- land for the day, until it was superseded by new opinions; and during the period of its ascendency, it materially influenced those systems of moral and psychological investigation which still refused to recognize it as an authority and guide. In his Phrenological Hall, Clyde Street, Edinburgh, which was stored with a choice collection of casts of heads, he held meetings of the society, and delivered pub- lic lectures on phrenology; he originated and con- ducted the Phrenological Journal, which continued from 1824 to 1847, and extended to twenty volumes, himself contributing many articles to the series; and he delivered many successful courses of lectures, not only in various parts of the United Kingdom, but also in America and Germany. But his numerous writings were still more influential than his lectures, from the popularity they acquired and their influence on the public mind. The first of these was his Essays on Phrenology, published in 1819, after he had become a thorough convert to the system. Five years afterwards he published his System of Plireno- logy, which went through five editions, and was translated into German and French. In 1828 he published the most important of his works, entitled The Constitution of Man considered in Relation to External Objects, being an attempt to demonstrate the essential harmony of the nature of man with the sur- rounding world; and the consequent necessity of study- ing the laws of nature, in order that we may realize the advantages of the external world, lessen our exposure to its evils, and carry out successfully our physical, social, and moral improvement. Of this work, which so materially influences many of the systems of physi- cal and social reform advocated in the present day, nearly 100,000 copies were sold in Britain, numerous editions were printed in America, and it was trans- lated into French, German, and Swedish. Besides these works he wrote the following : Elements of Phrenology, 1824; Lectures on Popular Education, 1833; holes of his Experiences in Germany and America; Lectures on Moral Philosophy, 1840; Life and Correspondence of Andrew Combe, M.D., 1850; Principles of Criminal Legislation and Prison Dis- cipline, 1S54; Phrenology applied to Painting and Sculpture, 1855; and Tlic Currency Question con- sidered in Relation to the Plank Restriction Act, 7 and 8 Victoria, c. 32, 1855. The latent of his works, entitled 'J'he Relation between Science and Religion, which he published in 1857, eloquently inculcates and earnestly enforces the duty and advantage of obedience to the precepts of natural religion. With all this travelling, lecturing, and authorship upon his favourite science and the subjects connected with it, which of themselves might have been suffi- cient for a long and active life, Mr. Combe continued to 1837a practical man of business, and was devoted to his profession as a writer to the signet. As a citizen, he also entered fully into the public questions of the day, and took an active part in the subjects of parlia- mentary reform, the abolition of the corn-laws, and the establishment of a system of national education in which every sect and party might coalesce. In 1833 he married Cecilia, daughter of the celebrated Mrs. Siddons, by whom he was survived. His own death occurred on the 14th August, 1858, his regular living and temperate habits having carried a delicate constitution onward to that age of threescore and ten years which forms the usual boundary even of the most vigorous and robust. His large collection of books on the subject of phrenology has been deposited in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh. CONSTABLE, Archibald, an eminent pub- lisher, was born, February 24, I77°> a t Kellie, in the county of Fife, where his father, Thomas Constable, acted as overseer to the Earl of Kellie. After re- ceiving a plain education at the school of his native parish (Carnbee), he became, in 1788, apprentice to Mr. Peter Hill, bookseller in Edinburgh, the friend and correspondent of Robert Burns. About the time of the expiration of his apprenticeship, he married the daughter of Mr. David Willison, printer, who, though averse to the match, was of some service in enabling him to set up in business for himself. This latter step he took in the year 1795, opening a shop on the north side of the High Street, near the cross, and devoting Irmself at first chiefly to the sale of old books connected with Scottish history and literature. In this line of trade he speedily acquired considerable eminence, not so much by the extensiveness of his stock, for his capital was very limited, as by his per- sonal activity, agreeable manners, and the intelli- gence with which he applied himself to serve the wants of his customers. At an early period of his career his shop was resorted to by Mr. J. G. Dalzell, Mr. Richard Heber, Mr. Alexander Campbell, Mr. (afterwards Dr.) AlexanderMurray, Dr. John Leyden, Mr. Walter Scott, Mr. Thomas Thomson, and other young men possessed of a taste for Scottish literary and historical antiquities, for some of whom he published works of no inconsiderable magnitude, previously to the close of the eighteenth century. In 1801 he acquired the property of the Scots Maga- zine, a venerable repertory of historical, literary, and archaeological matter, upon which he employed the talents of Leyden, Murray, Macneil, and other eminent men in succession, though without any considerable increase to its reputation. In the pre- ceding year he had commenced the Farmers Maga- zine, under the management of an able Fast Lothian agriculturist, Mr. Robert Brown, then of Markle: this work, which appeared quarterly, for many years enjoyed a considerable degree of prosperity, but eventually drooped with the class to whom it ap- pealed, and sank with the house of the publisher. The small body of ingenious and learned persons who, in 1802, originated the Edinburgh Review, placed it under the commercial management of Mr. Constable, who, though unprepared for the great success which it experienced, was not long in per- ceiving the high merits of its conductors, and acting towards them in an appropriately liberal manner. The business of publishing this great work remained with him for twenty-four years. In 1804 he com- menced the Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal. which remained with him till 1826. It was through- out a successful publication. In 1S05 he published, in conjunction with Longman & Co. of London, the first original work of Sir Walter Scott, The Lay of the Last Ministrel, the success of which was also far beyond his expectations. In the ensuing year he issued a beautiful edition of what he termed The Works of Walter Scott, Esq., in five volumes, com- prising the poem just mentioned, the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," "Sir Tristrem," and a series of lyrical pieces. Notwithstanding the success of the Lay of the Last Minstrel, Mr. Constable was looked ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE. 337 upon as a hold man when, in 1807, he offered Mr. Scott ;£looo for a poem which was afterwards entitled Marmion. Such munificence was quite a novelty in the publishing trade of Scotland, and excited some attention even in a part of the island where literary affairs had heretofore been conducted on a larger scale. Not long after the appearance of this poetical romance, Mr. Constable and his partner had a serious difference with its illustrious author, which lasted till 1813, although in the interval he edited for them the works of Swift, as he had pre- viously those of Dryden. An enumeration of the many valuable books which were afterwards pub- lished by the subject of this memoir, would be out of place in the present work; but the mention of a few, such as Mr. J. P. Wood's excellent edition of Douglas 1 Scottish Peerage, Mr. G. Chalmers' Cale- donia, the Edinburgh Gazetteer in six volumes, the Philosophical Works of Mr. Dugald Stewart, and the Supplement to the Encyclopaedia Britannica (the stock and copyright of which work he purchased in 1812), will be sufficient to suggest a career far transcending in enterprise and brilliancy anything of the kind ever known in Scotland. In 1804 Mr. Constable had assumed as partner Mr. Alexander Gibson Hunter, of Blackness, and from that time the business was carried on under the designation of Archibald Con- stable and Company. A few years afterwards, when the concerns of the house had become very exten- sive, Mr. Constable thought it a hardship that so much of his wares should pass through the hands of an English agency, who at once absorbed a con- siderable share of his profits, and could not profess to promote his interest with so much zeal as their own. lie and his Edinburgh partner therefore joined, December, 1S0S, with Mr. Charles Hunter and Mr. John Park, in commencing a general book- selling business in London, under the designation of Constable, Hunter, Park, and Hunter. This specu- lation, however, being found to be unattended with the expected advantages, was given up in 1811. In the early part of this year Mr. A. G. Hunter retired from the Edinburgh house, on which occasion Mr. Constable, acting on the liberal view which he usually took of the value of his stock, and perhaps not unwilling to impress the world with an exalted idea of his prosperity, allowed to his partner a greater amount of actual cash (,£17,000 is understood to have been the sum paid) than what was justly his due. Mr. Robert Cathcart of Drum, writer to the signet, and Mr. Robert Cadell, then a clerk in Mr. Constable's shop, were assumed in Mr. Hunter's place, and the firm still continued under the designa- tion of Archibald Constable and Company. Mr. Cathcart being carried off after a few days' illness in November, 1812, Mr. Cadell remained Mr. Con- stable's sole partner. Mr. Constable and his partner published, after 1S13, all the poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, and the whole of his prose fictions (excepting the first - 1 ies of the Tales of My Landlord) down to the year 1S26. The vast amount of lucrative business arising from these publications, and others of nearly equal popularity and importance, produced in the subject of this memoir the sincere though erroneous convic- tion that he was a prosperous, and in one respect a wealthy man. He had never, it is tnie, possessed much free capita!; he had scarcely ever known what it was to be exempt from difficulties for ready money; yet he could calculate for certain on the productive- ness of several of his more important speculations, and he every day saw around him such a large and increasing amount of stock, that nothing less than the demonstration of figures could have riven him greater assurance of his affluent condition. That demonstration unfortunately was wanting. Mr. Constable was no arithmetician. His mind was one of those which delight in forming lofty enterprises and ambitious schemes, but arc too much engrossed with the glories of the ultimate object, to regard much the details by which it is proposed to be ac- complished. Eor very many of his publications, the literary labourer was greatly oveq>aid; in most cases, he printed a much larger impression than was neces- sary, or, if the demand came nearly up to the supply, the benefits of success were lost upon an undemanded second edition. He had a magnificent way of trans- acting every kind of business, seeming in general less to regard the merits of the matter in hand, than the dignity of his name and profession. Proceeding in this manner rather like a princely patron of letters, than a tradesman aiming at making them subservient to his personal interest, Mr. Constable was easily led into a system of living greatly beyond his real means, and from which the pressure of no embarrassments, however severe, could awaken him. Another error, to which the steps were perhaps as natural and easy, was his yielding to the desires of his friend Sir Walter Scott for money, and the means of raising money, as a fore-payment of literary labour. Both men were in some degree intoxicated by the extraordinary success they had met with in their respective careers, which seemed to assure them against the occurrence of any real difficulty in any of the processes of worldly affairs; and, mutually sup- porting their common delusion, they launched without rudder or compass into an ocean of bank credit, in which they were destined eventually to perish. The reverence of the publisher for the author was not greater than was the confidence of the author in "the strong sense and sagacious calculations" (his own words) of the publisher. Both afterwards dis- covered that they had been in a great measure wrong, as even the works of a Scott could only produce a certain sum, while the calculations of Mr. Constable, though bearing the impress of an ardent and generous temperament, were not conducted upon those rules which alone will insure good results in commercial affairs. It is painful to reflect on the change which adversity brought over the mutual sentiments of these distinguished men. Mr. Constable lived to lament on a deathbed the coldness which the results of his bankruptcy had introduced into the mind of his former friend, and to complain (whether justly or not) that, if he had not been so liberal towards that friend, he might have still known prosperity. Sir Walter, on the other hand, lived to suffer the pain of pecuniary distress in consequence of the loose cal- culations of himself and his publisher, and to enter- tain in his benevolent and tranquil mind, so changed a feeling regarding that individual, as prevented him from paying the common respect of a friend to his remains, when, in the hour of calamity ami sorrow, they were transferred to the grave. Mr. Constable had in early life entertained literary aspirations only less ambitions than th -e by u he distinguished himself in commercial life. '1 wanting the advantages of an academical edm he wrote his own language fluently and correctly. Scottish antiquities formed the de] artim 1 ' he desired to exert himself, and the pre-ent writer has heard him, amidst the ] ressing 1 express a touching regret for the 1 the hopes which he once entertain ice to this favourite studv. Prom respect for his literary abilities, Mi^s Seward bequeathed to him her whole correspondence, in the expeci personally undertake the duty of editor; a task, how- 3S3 ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE GEORGE COOK ever, for which he found it necessary to employ a substitute, in the person of Mr. Morehead. The only literary efforts of Mr. Constable which have ever been ascertained, consist in the editing of La- motifs Diary in 1S10, and of a compilation of The Poetry contained in the IVaverley Novels, and the composition of a small volume which appeared in 1S22, under the title of "Memoir of George Iferiot, Jeweller to King James, containing an account of the Hospital founded by him at Edinburgh." Having become a widower in 1816, Mr. Constable in I Si 8 married Miss Charlotte Neale, who survived him. In the early part of 1822 he was obliged, by a due regard to his physical and mental energies, to reside for some months in England. It may also be men- tioned among the particulars of his life, that in 1S23, though professedly a Whig in politics, he was in- cluded by the liberal policy of the government in a list of ne>v justices of the peace for the city of Edin- burgh. In the same year he removed from the warehouse he had occupied for nearly thirty years in the High Street to an elegant mansion adjacent to the Register House, in the new town, which had become his own by purchase from the connections of his second marriage. In the year 1825 Sir. Constable projected perhaps the most remarkable of all His undertakings — A Miscellany of Original and Selected Works in Litera- ture, Art, and Science, which he designed to publish in small fasciculi at one shilling, every three consti- tuting a volume. Having marked the tendency to- wards a system of cheap popular reading which was at this time very observable in the public mind and in the bookselling business, he had resolved to take advantage of the irresistible impulse for the repro- duction of some of his best copyrights; calculating securely that these, especially if mixed up with new productions from the pens of the best modern writers, would appropriate a large share of the patronage extended by the people to cheap works, while the vast sale that might be expected as a consequence of their humble price, could not fail to afford an ample remuneration to all concerned. The design was one worthy, in its daring novelty and its liberal promise, of a publisher who, in almost all his enterprises, had shown a comprehensiveness of mind above his fellows. Nor can it be doubted that, if carried into execution with the whole powers of the original house, and the prestige which the name of Constable now carried to every British ear, it would have met with a success more than sufficient to redeem the fortunes of the establishment. Unfortunately the commercial distresses which marked the close of 1825 operated unfavourably upon a London firm, with which Archibald Constable and Company were inti- mately connected, and at the close of the January of the ensuing year both were compelled to stop pay- ment. The debts of t lie latter house were understood to be about a quarter of a million, for a considerable part of which Sir Walter Scott unfortunately stood responsible. The stock in which the subject of this memoir was wont to contemplate an immense fund of dormant wealth, was consequently sequestered, and its real value (especially on a peremptory sale) being very different from the apparent, it sufficed to discharge but a small part of the existing obligations. Mr. Constable, who at this time had the young family arising from his second marriage springing up around him, now retired into comparative privacy, to experience the usual fate of those whom fortune has suddenly deserted. Most of his friends having suffered considerably by his bankruptcy, and being deeply impressed with a sense of the imprudence which had led to that event, paid him no longer any regard, though, while his fortunes lived, they would have given "fifty, nay, an hundred ducats for his portrait in little." Notwithstanding these painful circumstances, to which was soon added a return of some dropsical ailments which had formerly afilicted him, he resolved to make an endeavour for the sup- port of his family, by commencing, though with material restrictions of plan, the Miscellany which had formerly been announced. Having made the necessary arrangements with the trustee upon the sequestered estate, he issued the first number late in the year 1826, being the beginning of a reproduction of Captain Basil Hall's Travels, which that gentle- man, with a kindness worthy of his distinguished abilities, had conferred as a present upon the veteran publisher. Though unable now to command all the copyrights and new productions which he originally contemplated, he succeeded in calling around him some of the rising talent of the day, and would in all probability have soon been once more engaged in an extensive and enterprising course of business, if death had not stepped in to claim his part. Mr. Constable gradually sank under his dropsical ailment, and on the 21st of July, in the year just named, breathed his last at his house in Bark Blace, in the fifty-second year of his age. Mr. Constable was of middle stature, and, in his latter years, of somewhat unwieldly bulk; his countenance, a fair index to his mind, displayed lineaments of uncommon nobleness and beauty. COOK, Rev. George, D.D. This learned di- vine and ecclesiastical historian was born at St. An- drews in 1773. His education was conducted at the schools and colleges of his native city, at that time dis- tinguished for its high literary character and the emi- nent men it produced, while his subsequent career fully showed how well he had availed himself of such op- portunities of mental improvement. From the early period of boyhood the studies of George Cook had been directed towards the church, in which his family had considerable influence; and at the age of twenty- two he was ordained minister of Laurencekirk, Kin- cardineshire. On settling down into such a tranquil residence, the young divine did not resign himself either to rural indolence or literary epicurism; on the contrary, his studies were of the most laborious, in- defatigable character, as well as directed to the highest interests of his sacred profession; and it was while minister of Laurencekirk that he produced most of those works by which his fame was extended over the world of ecclesiastical literature. As an author, his first work, published in 1808, was Illus- trations of the General Evidence establishing Christ's Resurrection. His next, in 1811, was the History of the Reformation, the most popular of all his works, until it was eclipsed by the more attractive produc- tions upon the same subject at a later period, and by writers possessing more ample opportunities of in- formation, of whom we need scarcely mention the name of D'Aubigne. After this work on general ecclesiastical history, Dr. Cook turned his attention to that part of it which concerned his own church and country, and published, in I S 1 5, the ///story of the Church of Scotland from the Reformat ion to the Revo- lution — a work in which the research was of the most trying character, so many of the materials being at that time in obscure, moth-eaten manuscript, which have since been printed mainly through the public spirit of our antiquarian societies. In 1820 appeared his Life of Principal Hill, and in 1S22 his View of Christianity. The learning and talent displayed in these works, as well as the important subjects which they illus- GEORGE COOK — - trated, and the high interests which they were de- signed to advance, naturally brought Dr. Cook into the front rank of the most talented of his clerical brethren, and in church courts his opinions ob- taine 1 that ascendency to which they were so justly entitled. To these also were added the highest honorary distinctions which our primitive national church, so jealous of the doctrine of Presbyterian parity, reluctantly accords to the most favoured of her children. Thus, in 1825, he was moderator of the General Assembly, and in the following year he was appointed a member of the royal commission for examining into the state of our Scottish univer- sities. He was also appointed dean of the order of the Thistle, and one of his majesty's chaplains. On the death of Dr. Inglis, which occurred in 1834, the leadership of his party in the church, which that eminent divine had so ably conducted, was by universal choice conceded to Dr. Cook. Always a situation of difficulty and trouble, even in the most quiescent periods of our church's history, it was pecu- liarly so at the present crisis; for the Moderate party, which Dr. Cook headed, and that for so long a period had been in the ascendency, had now lost its prestige; and the Evangelical portion of the church, already increased from a handful into an army, and backed by the popular suffrage, which had always inclined to it since the days of the solemn league and covenant, was advancing with all the energy of a newly resusci- tated cause, and giving certain promise that at no distant day it would recover its former superiority. Against such an onward tide it was not wonderful if 1 )r. Cook and his brethren were unable to make head, although they struggled bravely and to the last. Consistently with the principles which he had adopted from the beginning, and advocated on every occasion, both as an author and a divine, Dr. Cook could not be expected to sympathize with the opposite party in their claims for the abolition of patronage, and the entire exemption of the church from state control, and accordingly he contested every inch of ground with a zeal and honesty equal to their own. At length the result took him as completely by surprise as it did the wisest politicians and profoundest calculators of the day. The memorable 1 8th of May, 1843, occurred, on which the disruption of the Kirk of Scotland took place, and when, after it had been confidently asserted that not even twenty ministers would abandon their livings, nearly 500 rose from their places in the General Assembly and bade a final farewell to the Established Church. It was a melan- choly spectacle, a stunning blow to the upright affec- tionate heart of the leader of the Moderates. The labours of his past public life were thus destroyed by a single stroke, and while history recorded the calami- tous event, he must have guessed that it would re- proach him as one of the chief causes of the evil. And besides, in that departing train, whose self-sacri- ficing devotedness he was well disposed to acknow- ledge, how many were there whom he had revered for their commanding talenis, and loved for their piety and worth, but who were now lost for ever to the church with which he was identified, and whom he must henceforth meet or pass by as the ministers of a rival and hostile cause ! Such to Dr. Cook was the disruption; and although his own party exonerated him from blame, while his church still continued as before to be directed by his coun- sels, the rest of his life was clouded by the recollec- tion of an event which the best men, whether of the Free or Established Church, will never cea.-e to regret. The latter vears of Dr. Cook's life were spent at St. Andrews, as he had been appointed to the chair THOMAS COUTTS. 089 of moral philosophy in its university, in the room of Dr. Chalmers, when the latter was called to Edin- burgh. Here his end was sudden, his death having been instantaneous, and occasioned by the rupture of a blood-vessel while he was walking in the Kitk Wynd, on his way to the college library. This melan- choly event occurred on the forenoon of the 13th of May, 1845. COUTTS, Thomas, who long moved at the head of the monied and banking interest of the metropolis, was the fourth and youngest son of John (outts, originally of Dundee, and afterwards of Edinburgh, where he held the office of chief magistrate in 1743. The mother of Mr. Coutts was a daughter of Sir John Stuart of Allanbank, in Berwick-lure, who was the maternal grandson of Miss Grizel Cochrane, daughter of Sir John Cochrane, the associate of Russell and Sidney in their project for liberating Britain from the tyranny of the last Stuarts. Ol this lady, great-great-grandmother to Mr. Coutts, the following anecdote has been related by her rela- tion, the Earl of Dundonald : — "Sir John Cochrane, being engaged in Argyle's rebellion against James II., was taken prisoner after a desperate resistance, and condemned to be handed. His daughter having noticed that the death-warrant was expected from London, attired herself in men's clothes, and twice attacked and robbed the mails (betwixt Berwick and Bedford) which conveyed the death-warrants ; thus, by delaying the execution, giving time to Sir John Cochrane's father, the Earl of Dundonald, to make interest with Father l'etre, (a Jesuit), King James' confessor, who, for the sum of ^5000, agreed to intercede with his royal master in behalf of Sir John Cochrane, and to procure his pardon, which was effected.'' Mr. Coutts was bom about the year 1731. His father carried on the business of a general merchant, and established the bank which has since attained such distinguished respectability under the auspices of Sir William Forbes and his descendants. An elder son, James, entered into partnership with a banking house in St. Mary Axe. London, which corresponded with that of John Coutts and Co., Edinburgh. Subsequently Thomas Coutts, the sub- ject of the present memoir, entered also into that house. He then became partner with his brother of a banking house in the Strand, which had long been carried on under the title of Middleton and Campbell; and finally, on the death of his brother, in 177S, he became the sole manager of this exten- sive concern. Mr. Coutts possessed the accomplishments and manners of a gentleman ; plain but fashion;. his dress; sedate in his deportment; punctual and indefatigable in business even to a very advanced age. His great ambition through life was to estab- lish his character as a man of 1 usi certainly obtained such a reputation in this 1 as few men have enjoyed. Instances an his refusing to overlook a single penny .:. . ur.tr even with those friends to wh m lie was . habit of dispensing his hospitality with the ir. st liberal hand. With such qualifications, an with length of days beyond the Usual -: n : life, it 1- not sur'prisin ti I wealth, and placed him- If ai portant class to v "'• ' ■ exclusively a man ol business: . of literarv men in a high degree, a: ! guished for his t; liberal dis] nser I ! is w, alth i ■ the ; r. Mr. Coutts was twice married: first t Susan 39° JAMES CRAIG JOHN CRAIG. Starkie, a female servant of his brother James, by whom he had three daughters — Susan, married in 1796 to George Augustus, third Earl of Guildford; Frances, married in 1 800 to John, first Marquis of Bute; and Sophia, married in 1793 to Sir Francis Burdett, Bart. About three months after the de- cease of his first wife, which took place in 1815, he married Harriet Mellon, an actress of some distinc- tion in her profession, whom he constituted, at his death, sole legatee of his immense property, consist- ing of personals in the diocese of Canterbury sworn under £600,000, besides considerable real estates in lands, houses, &c, and the banking establishment in the Strand. This lady afterwards became by marriage Duchess of St. Albans, and, by her acts of beneficence, proved herself not unworthy of the great fortune which she had acquired. Mr. Coutts' death took place at his house in Piccadilly, February 24th, 1822, about the ninetieth year of his age. CRAIG, James, M.A., was born at Gifford in East Lothian, in 1682, and educated in the univer- sity of Edinburgh. He was first minister at Yester, in his native county; then at Haddington; and finally at Edinburgh, where he was very popular as a preacher. While in the first of these situations, he wrote a volume of Divine Poems, which have gone through two editions, and enjoyed at one time a considerable reputation. In 1732, when settled in Edinburgh, he published Sermons, in three volumes 8vo, chiefly on the principal heads of Christianity. He died at Edinburgh in 1744, aged sixty-two. CRAIG, John, an eminent preacher of the Re- formation, was born about the year 1512, and had the misfortune to lose his father next year at the battle of Flodden. Notwithstanding the hardships to which this loss subjected him, he obtained a good education, and removing into England, became tutor to the children of Lord Dacre. Wars arising soon after between England and Scotland, he re- turned to his native country, and became a monk of the Dominican order. Having given some grounds for a suspicion of heresy, he was cast into prison; but having cleared himself, he was restored to liberty; and returning to England, endeavoured, by the influence of Lord Dacre, to procure a place at Cambridge, in which he was disappointed. He then travelled to France; and thence to Rome, where he was in such favour with Cardinal Pole, that he obtained a place among the Dominicans of Bologna, and was ap- pointed to instruct the novices of the cloister. Being advanced to the rectorate, in consequence of his merit, he had access to the library; where, happen- ing to read Calvin's Institutes, he became a convert to the Protestant doctrines. A conscientious regard to the text in which Christ forbids his disciples to deny him before men, induced Craig to make no secret of this change in his sentiments ; and he was consequently sent to Rome, thrown into a prison, tried and condemned to be burned, from which fate he was only saved by an accident. Pope Paul IV. having died the day before his intended execution, the people rose tumultuously, dragged the statue of his late holiness through the streets, and, breaking open all the prisons, set the prisoners at liberty. Craig immediately left the city ; and as he was walking through the suburbs, he met a company of banditti. One of these men, taking him aside, asked if he had ever been in Bologna. On his answering in the affirmative, the man inquired if he recollected, as he was one day walking there in the fields with some young noblemen, having administered relief to a poor maimed soldier, who asked him for alms. Craig replied that he had no recollection of such an event ; but in this case the obliged party had the better memory : the bandit told him that he could never forget the kindness he had received on that occasion, which he would now beg to repay by administering to the present necessities of his bene- factor. In short, this man gave Craig a sufficient sum to carry him to Bologna. The fugitive soon found reason to fear that some of his former acquaintances at this place might de- nounce him to the Inquisition ; and accordingly he slipped away as privately as possible to Milan, avoid- ing all the principal roads, for fear of meeting any enemy. One day, when his money and strength were alike exhausted by the journey, he came to a desert place, where, throwing himself down upon the ground, he almost resigned all hope of life. At this moment a dog came fawning up to him, with a bag of money in its mouth, which it laid down at his feet. The forlorn traveller instantly recognized this as "a special token of God's favour;" and picking up fresh energy, proceeded on his way till he came to a little village, where he obtained some refresh- ment. He now bent his steps to Vienna; where, professing himself of the Dominican order, he was brought to preach before the emperor Maximilian II., and soon became a favourite at the court of that sovereign. His fame reverting to Rome, Pope Pius III. sent a letter to the emperor, desiring him to be sent back as one that had been condemned for heresy. The emperor adopted the more humane course of giving him a safe-conduct out of Germany. Reaching England about the year 1560, Craig heard of the reformation which had taken place in his native country; and, returning thither, offered his services to the church. He found, however, that the long period of his absence from the country (twenty-four years) had unfitted him to preach in the vernacular tongue, and he was therefore obliged for some time to hold forth to the learned in Latin. 1 Next year, having partly recovered his native lan- guage, he was appointed to be the colleague of Knox in the parish church of Edinburgh, which office he held for nine years. During this period he had an opportunity of manifesting his conscientious regard to the duties of his calling, by refusing to proclaim the banns for the marriage of the queen to Bothwell, which he thought contrary to the laws, to reason, and to the word of Cod. For this he was reproved at the time by the council; but his conduct was declared by the General Assembly two years after to have been consistent with his duty as a faithful minister. About the year 1572 he was sent by the General Assembly to preach at Montrose, "for the illuminating the north ; and when he had remained two years there, he was sent to Aberdeen to illu- minate these dark places in Mar, Buchan, and Aberdeen, and to teach the youth in the college there." In 1579 Mr. Craig, being appointed min- ister to the king (James VI.), returned to Edin- burgh, where he took a leading hand in the general assemblies of the church, being the compiler of part of the Second Book of Discipline; and, what gives his name its chief historical lustre, the writer of the National Covenant, signed in 1580 by the king and his household, and which was destined in a future age to exercise so mighty an influence over the destinies of the country. John Craig was a very different man from the royal chaplains of subsequent times. He boldly 1 His Latin discourses were delivered in Magdalen's Chapel, in the Cowgate, Edinburgh; a curious old place of worship, which still exists, and even retains in its windows part of the stained glass which adorned it in Catholic times. JOHN CRAIG THOMAS CRAIG. 39 1 opposed the proceedings of the court when lie thought them inconsistent with the interests of reli- gion, and did not scruple on some occasions to utter the most poignant and severe truths respecting the king, even in his majesty's own presence. In 1595, being quite worn out with the infirmities of age, he resigned his place in the royal household, and retired from public life. He died on the 4th of December, 1600, aged eighty-eight, his life having extended through the reigns of four sovereigns. CRAIG, John, an eminent mathematician, flour- ished at the end of the 17th and the beginning of the iSth centuries. The only circumstance known respecting his life is, that he was vicar of Gillingham, in Dorsetshire. The following list of his writings is given in Watt's Bibliothcca Britannica: — Methodus figurarttm, lineis rectis et curvis comprehensarum : quadraturas determinandi. London, 1685, 4-to. — Irietatus Mathematicus, de fignrariim curvilinearum, Sec, et locis geometricis. London, 1692, 1693,410. — Theologies Christiana Principia Mathematica. Lon- don, 1699, 4to. Reprinted, Leipsic, 1755. — De Calculo Fluentiitm, lib. ii., et de Optica Analytica, lib. ii. London, 1 7 18, 4to. — The Quantity of the Loga- rithmic Curve; translated from the Latin, Phil. Trans. Abr. iv. 318. 1698. — Quantity of Figures Geometrically Irrational. lb. 202. 1697. — Letter containing Solutions of two Problems: I, on the Solid of Least Resistance; 2, the Curve of Quickest Descent. lb. 542. 1 701. — Specimen of determining the Quad- rature of Figures. lb. v. 24. 1 703. — Solution of Bernouilli's Problem. lb. 90. 1704. — Of the Length of Curve Lines. lb. 406. 1708. — Method of Making Logarithms. lb. 609. 1710. — Description of the Head of a Monstrous Calf. lb. 668. 1712." CRAIG, Thomas, author of the Treatise on the Feudal Law, and of other learned works, was pro- bably born in the year 153S. It is uncertain whether he was the son of Robert Craig, a merchant in Edin- burgh, or of William Craig of Craig fin try, afterwards Craigston, in the county of Aberdeen. In 1552 he was entered a student of St. Leonard's College, in the university of St. Andrews, but does not ap- pear to have completed the usual course of four years, as he left the college in 1555, after receiving his degree as Bachelor of Arts. He then repaired to France, and studied the civil and canon law in some of the flourishing universities of that country. On his return, about the year 1561, he continued his studies under the superintendence of his relation, John Craig, the subject of a preceding memoir. After distinguishing himself in a very eminent degree as a classical scholar, he was called to the bar in February, 1563, and in the succeeding year was placed at the head of the criminal judicature of the country, as justice-depute, under the hereditary officer, the justice-general, an honour vested in the noble family of Argyle. Among his earliest duties in this capacity, was that of trying and condemning Thomas Scott, sheriff-depute of Perth, and Henry Vair, a priest, for having kept the gates of Holy, rood House, to facilitate the assassination of Rizzio. In 1566. when James VI. was b irn, Craig, relaxing from his severer studies at the bar, hailed the birth of the royal infant, and predicted the happiness which such an event promised to his unsettled coun- try, in a Latin poem entitled Genethliacon facobi Principis Scotorum. This, says Mr. Tytler, in his elegant work. The Life of Sir Thomas Craig, is a poem of considerable length, written in hexameters, and possessing many passages not only highly de- scriptive of the state of Scotland at this time, but in themselves eminently poetical: it is to be found in the Delitia Poetarum Scotorum. "Craig," says Mr. Tytler, "appears to have l>een a man of a modest and retiring disposition, averse to any interference in the political intrigues of the times, devoted to his profession, and fond of that relaxation from the severer labours of the bar, which is to be found in a taste for classical literature. While his contem- poraries are to be found perpetually implicated in the conspiracies against their mistress' the queen, and their names have come down to us contaminated by crime, the character of this good and upright mail shines doubly pure amid the guilt with which it is surrounded. Although a convert to the reformed opinions, and from this circumstance naturally con- nected with the party which opposed the queen, his sense of religion did not confound or extinguish his principles of loyalty. His name appears only in the journal books of the court in the discharge of the labours of his profession, or it is found in the justi- ciary records under his official designation of justice- depute, or it is honourably associated with the litera- ture of his country; but it is never connected with the political commotions which the money and in- trigues of England had kindled in the heart of our nation." Craig pursued an extensive practice at the bar for a period of upwards of forty years, and dur- ing all that time his name is scarcely ever found mingling with the political movements of the times. During the later part of his career he devoted much of his time to the composition of his learned Treatise on the Feudal Law, upon which his reputation prin- cipally rests. To describe the law of our country, as he found it established by the practice of the courts in his own age; to compare it with the written books on the feudal law; and to impart to it some- what of the form and arrangement of a science, de- monstrating, at the same time, its congruity in its fundamental principles with the feudal law of Eng- land, such were the objects of Sir Thomas Craig in this work, which he completed in 1603, a period when it might have been of signal service, it pub- lished, in removing some of the prejudices which stood in the way of a union between the two countries. The treatise, which was written in a vigorous Latin style, was not, however, put forth to the world till forty-seven years after the death of the learned author. The enlarged and liberal mind of Sir Thomas Craig rendered him a zealous promoter oi every ob- ject which tended to preserve the mutual peace, or facilitate the union of England. In January, 1603, he finished a Treatise on the Succession, to further t'ne views of his sovereign upon the throne about to be vacated by the death of Elizabeth. This work was more immediately occasioned by the celebrated Con- ference ou the Succession, written by the Jesuit Far- sons, under the assumed name of Doleman, ::: \vh ". the right of fames VI. was contested in a manner equally able and virulent. The trer.t>e ot < ra:g, probably on account of the quiet succession ol J ami - a few- months after, was never -e:.: I tli | res-; ! an English translation of it was publish I 17 3 by Dr. Gatherer. How mud ,' «".ii in the habit of dedicating to the Mus - pear; but the Dcltiu /' la mm c >;■:>•: 1 another poem written ': . his native monarch from 1 linl . ' ' ;e posse- sion of his new king lorn ot En. It i> Ad Serenissimum "el Tcteni;s::m:n'i /" cobum VI. c .. : S -.;.'. ; ' v. /"" '•' ' '■'. "This poem," savs Mr. T\tler, "is highly ch ai isticof the sim] lean 1 upright While other and more \ imagination in the c mi n I th -e er.c intake 392 THOMAS CRAIG ■WILLIAM CRAIG. addresses, the incense commonly offered up to kings, the Paneneticon of Craig is grave, dignified, and even admonitory. He is loyal, indeed, but his loyalty has the stamp of truth and sincerity; his praises are neither abject nor excessive; and in the advices which he has not scrupled to give to his sovereign, it is difficult which most to admire, the excellent sense of the precepts, or the energetic lati- nity in which they are conveyed." Craig also ad- dressed a similar poem to Prince Henry, who ac- companied his father to England. It would appear that Craig either was one of those who accompanied the king to England, or soon after followed him ; as he was present at the entrance of his majesty into London, and at the subsequent coronation. He celebrated these events in a Latin hexameter poem, entitled ^Teo, only eighteen years old, he began ! at o dlege as a tu! r stu : 1 ' self, and soon afterwards he wa- - of a local news] a; jr call i the 1 i s |^. when he entered th ; - j . connection with it c! >ed. he !; m m s, and v students a- a sch lar :" :> an 1 very superior intellectual ] uc:s. 1: •:.;, < r- tant still that 1 "i n; and of these. Dr. Chalmers. \ g him - in (J '.as- w, where M . 394 GEORGE LILLIE CRAIK. to deliver a course of lectures, wrote, among other affectionate eulogiums, "You cannot speak too highly of him." In 1823 he married Jannette, daughter of Cathcart Dempster, Esq., of St. An- drews; and having thus the responsibilities of mar- riage upon his head, without the intention of looking forward to church preferment, he commenced active life as a lecturer on poetry, a choice, which not only his own taste, but the celebrity which Hazlitt had previously won in Scotland by his lectures on the poets, may probably have inspired. lie delivered a series of lectures accordingly in Glasgow, Dublin, Belfast, and Liverpool; but soon found that, how- ever adventurous or alluring, such an erratic course was too uncertain and unprofitable for one who had others than himself to support. He therefore went to London, and settled dow-n to that systematic course of literary occupation which he continued until the close of his active and well-spent life. The first years of Mr. Craik's career in the metro- polis were such as a young literary adventurer usually experiences. A few months or weeks suf- fice to dispel the imaginary halo that surrounds it. However estimated in his own locality, he is nobody in London until he is tried and tested anew. What- ever be his talents he must step forth and show them, as the search after modest merit in its murky con- cealments is out of the question. And while the French litterateur in his garret may hope to win rank and political influence by his writings, and be- come the leading man of the state, British author- ship must reckon itself fortunate if, instead of a pre- miership, it can only find a publisher. Even the choice, too, of his subjects with a reference to his own past studies, acquirements, and likings, he must forego, as he is but a candidate in the literary market, and can only hope to dispose of those wares which for the present are in chief demand. Such is the fate of the adventurer in London who seeks to live by authorship as a profession: he must not only throw aside the stock of MS. with which he hoped to take the world by storm, but strip himself of his very skin, and commence a new intellectual life. It is by such a painful process, however, that the enthusiastic aspirant finds he can become some- thing better than a fourth-rate novelist or a fifth- rate poet, and that after a course of stern experi- ence he discovers the way in which he can best succeed. Much of this was experienced by Mr. Craik after lie had settled himself in the great metro- polis in 1S24. His lectures on poetry were not in demand, and instead of controlling he must follow the tide. He therefore laid himself out for such chance work as might occur, and was rewarded for his compliance, although such engagements were slow in coming, and scantily remunerated. He abandoned the imaginative for the more solid de- partments of literature — politics, ethics, biography, history, criticism — and found in these the fittest ex- ercise for his well-trained [lowers, and the best out- let for his extensive general knowledge. But even already, although so humbly employed and in anonymous authorship, his worth began to be recog- nized, and influential friends to gather round him, whose esteem could console him amidst years of poverty and privation, and inspire him with the hope that better days awaited him. The first regular literary engagement of Mr. Craik that promised to be permanent, was in the Verulam, a weekly literary and scientific newspaper, the literary department of which he was appointed to conduct. But this paper, although supported by high patron- age, and ably conducted, did not meet the popular taste, and was very soon abandoned. Such was the fate of several publications of the period which in a newspaper form were intended to be the vehicles of substantial knowledge to the masses. They were the earliest experiments among those attempts to popu- larize the important truths of science and literature by which the common people were to be enlightened, before they could be reformed and elevated; but where the readers, expecting a light lively news- paper, were overwhelmed with scientific and political lectures. It was an unpardonable disappointment, and was resented accordingly. After the failure of the Verulam, a dreary interval of precarious occupa- tion succeeded, until the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge had commenced; and Mr. Craik, whose talents were already well known to the direc- tors, and especially its distinguished president Lord Brougham, was engaged as one of its chief contri- butors. Soon after this society had commenced its operations, he produced his Pursuit of Kncnvledge under Difficulties, a work so popular that its very title became a household word; and as it appeared without the name of the author, conjecture was busy, and the work was attributed for some time to the most eminent literary personage of the day. His next work, published in 1831 by the same society, was Paris and its Historical Scenes, in two volumes, and afterwards The New Zcalanders. These works, published under the series of Entertaini7ig Knmv- ledge edited and published by Mr. Charles Knight, brought him into close intercourse with that enter- prising publisher, and Mr. Craik was extensively engaged with the Penny Magazine and Penny Cyclo- pedia, in the latter of which publications he was em- ployed from its commencement to the close, contri- buting to it some of its most valuable articles in history and biography. An entire history of England being still a desidera- tum, had been some time under consideration, and it was resolved that Henry's learned and able but somewhat neglected work should be reproduced in a better style, and the narrative continued to the present day. Of this undertaking Mr. Craik was to be editor, with proper coadjutors, and the attempt was commenced in earnest; but before it had pro- ceeded far onward, the difficulty of piecing new materials into the original framework was found so great, that it was judged better to produce an entirely new work rather than attempt to repair and enlarge the old. The old materials were therefore thrown aside, and nothing of Henry retained but his plan of historical writing by separate divisions, which also, in the present case, was subjected to considerable changes and modifications. The result of this careful deliberation was that highly popular work, 7'he Pictorial History of England — the first attempt after that of the Rev. Dr. Henry to write a national his- tory in all the different departments of a nation's progress, which promises to introduce a new and most important era in that department of authorship. Of this difficult work, which commenced in 1839, Mr. Craik was editor, and while he welded the dif- ferent chapters of its contributors into one harmonious and consistent account — not always an easy or con- ciliatory task — he principally wrote the chapters on "Religion," "Constitution," "Government and Laws," "National Industry and Literature," of each successive period. How well his task was discharged both as editor and contributor, the Pictorial History itself gives sufficient evidence. His own contribu- tions, enlarged and improved, were afterwards pub- lished as separate works, in Knights Weekly Volumes, the first of which was entitled Sketches of the History of Literature and Learning in Lingland from the Norman Conquest to the Present Time, in six volumes, GEORGE I.ILLIE CRAIK DAVID CRAWFORD. which were afterwards expanded into a still larger work, entitled History of English Literature and the English Language, 1862. The second work, formed from his chapters in the Pictorial IListory, and pub- lished in the same series, was A IListory of British Commerce from the Earliest Times, 3 vols. 1844. Besides these, he also published in Knights Weekly Volumes, Spenser and his Poetry, 3 vols. 1845; Bacon, his Writings, and his Philosophy, 3 vols. 1846; a concluding volume of Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties, containing female examples only, 1847; and a work entitled Popular Tumults. Without taking into account his numerous con- tributions to the periodical literature of the day, the research they occasioned, the careful deliberation with which they were studied, and the fastidious excellence that characterized their composition, Mr. Craik, it will be seen, since his arrival in London had been no remiss student. Gifted with an iron constitution, it had been severely tasked, and the variety of subjects which successively demanded his study might well make him sigh for relief, even though that relief should be nothing but a change of labour. An author by profession, had the literature in which he dealt been of that showy sensational kind which arrests the mob of readers, and pleases for the day, he might with half the toil have won fortune at least, if not fame, and been able to retire with a competence. But he had devoted himself to the more solid and useful, and therefore less lucrative, departments of his high vocation; and while other writers were content to amuse the public, his ambi- tion was to elevate and instruct it. Hence the very moderate competence in the way of remuneration which his toils could obtain for him at the best, and the prospect that all this would cease when occupa- tion forsook him, and he was too weary to work. But sufficient for the day is the evil thereof, and he looked forward with his wonted cheerfulness and energy. In the meantime he had won a reputation worth living for, and a circle of friends who formed a world worth living in; men, the most distinguished in literature and science, who appreciated his high talents, and loved him for his amiable social quali- ties. Nor was his benevolent disposition less re- markable, and he was anxious to smooth for others the way he had found so rough for himself. To young litterateurs, therefore, he was always ready with his advice and literary assistance, and often with his purse too, even when his own resources were by no means overflowing. And not merely as a friend, companion, and counsellor, but as a husband and fuller, his kindly affections were always alive, and constantly welling forth. From the wear and tear of such close application and multifarious studies, Mr. Craik in 1S49 found a welcome relief by being appointed professor of English literature and history at Queen's College, Belfast. " From this date," writes one who evidently knew him intimately and loved him well, "his career is identified with that of the newly-founded university, to which his ardent love of letters, his sound judg- ment, and generous wisdom brought such large help — equally appreciated by both students and pro- fess h's. Probably no college instructor was ever more widely popular than Professor Craik; while his genial qualities, his ready and inexhaustible memory, and his profound knowledge of men and books, made him welcome in every .society. At Belfast, both within and without the college walls, his well- known figure, hale and active, with the (lowing white hair, clear blue eye. and mouth full of both humour and sweetness, will be long missed and vividly remembered.'' Although now comfortably settled, and with a regular routine of occupation, Professor Craik, instead of sinking into learned ease, retained all his activity and love of authorship, so that, when his course of lectures was prepared, and his work in full train, he resumed his active pen for the press, and filled up his spare time with fresh achievements in literature. In 1849 1S52 he pro- duced the Roman e of the Peerage, in 4 vols.; in 1 855, Outlines of the History of the English Language; \\\ 1856, The English ofShakspeare illustrated in "Julius Cesar" and in 1862 the Manual oj English Litera- ture and the English Language. Having Ijeen ap- pointed in 1859 and 1S62 examiner of the Indian civil service, he revisited London during these and other summers, and occasionally extend' d his visits to his native Scotland; but his permanent home was Belfast, where his chief duties lay. Thus peacefully his life went on until 1866, when in February, while lecturing to his class, he was struck with paralysis, from which he only temporarily recovered. Hi, decease occurred on the 25th of June of the same year, and his remains were interred in the church- yard of Holy wood near Belfast. Mr. Craik, who had taken the degree of M.A. while a student at the university of St. Andrews, was also honoured with that of LL.D. a short time before his death. By his wife, who died in 1856, he had i.ssue one son and three daughters, of whom two survive. His character as an author is thus summed up in a brief memoir of him which appeared in Knight's English Cyclopedia, while he still lived: "Scrupulous accuracy, unwearied research, and sound criticism, united with an ardent desire for the safe and gradual advance of all that may practically improve the condition of society, are the leading characteristics of Mr. Craik's writings. Few have laboured more earnestly in the cause of general education. - ' CRAWFORD, David, of Drumsoy, near 1 gow, historiographer to Queen Anne, was born in 1665, and educated for the bar. Having abandom 1 professional pursuits in a great measure, for the sake ot studying Scottish antiquities and history, he was appointed historiographer royal for Scotland by Queen Anne, to whom he was probably recom- mended by his being a zealous Tory and Jacobite. His political prepossessions, which as usual ex- tended to a keen zeal in behalf of Queen Mary, induced him in 1706 to publish, at London, his well-known work, entitled Memoirs of t lie Affairs cj Scotland, containing a Lull and Impartial .1 of the Resolution in that Kingdom, •,,..■: in 1: 7. Eaithfully Compiled from an Authentic MS. The avowed purpose of this publication was to furnish an antidote to the tendency ^i Buchanan's \ The substance of the work he si}s he derive I an ancient MS. presented to him by Sir James I'.aii . of Saughtonhall, and which seemed, to 1 .•.-.•.• I composed by a contemporary ot the events .e- scribed. In executing the task whi posed upon himself, the learned 1 have acted after the manner of a g ;•' In order that his work m ghi ' meet the calumnies of Buchai it every pas-age which told in taken by that writer, an from the contemporary Tory writers. The was reprinted by Coo lall in 1; - ;. . to be a popular 1 regencies. In 1S04 Mr. Malcolm I.aing. nut] The H -t ryofS- .-'•■•■ ..'..'. "\ .' '■ :■-■:- - tun; having ol the ong nal MS. used by Crawl' : 1, : '..': i>:.- 1 :\ « : 1: a rr.- 396 ROBERT CRAWFORD. face denouncing the historiographer-royal as a rank impostor, inasmuch as he had set off that as a work of authority which had been vitiated for party pur- poses by his own hand. The same view has been taken of Mr. Crawford's character by Mr. Thomas Thomson, in the preface to a new print of the MS. for the use of the Bannatyne Club, which appeared in 1S25, under the title of The History and Life of King James (he Sext. With deference to these writers, it may be suggested, in Crawford's defence, that his work was never pretended to be a faithful transcript of the original MS. except on the title- page, where it is so stated by the bookseller ad cap- tandum, in obvious contradiction of the statement made by the editor within. The work comes forth with the character of a special pleading avowed upon the face of it ; and those who depended upon such a refacciamento as upon a faithful contemporary chro- nicle, after the account given of it in the editor's preface, had only to blame their own simplicity. The truth is, Crawford's memoirs, when fully con- sidered with a regard to the ideas prevalent respect- ing the purity of historical narrative at the beginning of the last century, will only appear an imposture to an opposite partisan. Crawford died in 1726. CRAWFORD, General Robert. This gallant officer, whose chief theatre of distinction was the Peninsula during the campaigns of Wellington, was the third son of Sir Alexander Crawford, Bart., of Kilburnie, Stirlingshire. At an early age he entered the army, and on the 1st of November, 1787, he bore the commission of captain in the seventy-fifth regiment of Highlanders, with which he served in India. When the peace of Amiens opened the Continent to British tourists, Crawford repaired to France, that he might improve himself in military science; but the war which followed the short-lived peace soon recalled him from his professional studies to his duties at home, and he was again sent out to service in India. Having gone through the various grades of pro- motion until he attained the rank of major-general, Crawford was sent, at the end of October, 1806, to South America, with 4200 men, upon an expedition that was originally designed to achieve the conquest of Chili. But from a mistaken idea that peace would again be established in a short period, the designs of our government in the matter of warlike expeditions were characterized by such delays and contradictory orders, that Crawford, from his attempts to obey them, fell under the displeasure of the home authorities, so that General Whitelocke was ap- pointed to supersede him in the command. A short time, however, sufficed to convince them of the mistake they had committed by the change. An attack on Buenos Ay res was resolved upon by Whitelocke 1 ; and, as if to make success impossible, the British troops were ordered to leave the artillery behind; the soldiers were to enter the town with unloaded muskets; and while every house, which was flat-roofed according to the fashion of the climate, was defended by their armed occupants, who were admirable marksmen, and resolute to defend their homes to the last, each division of the assailants, on entering the town, was preceded by a corporal's guard, furnished only with crowbars to break open the doors, while the troops were quietly to await their progress. The town was easily entered by the British, but how they were to get out of it was the ma-ter difficulty; for deadly showers of shot from every house-top poured upon them, which they were obliged to endure without the means of returning it; and the enemy, safe within their well-barricaded habitations, laughed at the attempts to take their town by iron crows. General Crawford and his brigade, who by Whitelocke's arrangements had penetrated quite through the town, after losing nearly half his force, was obliged to entrench him- self, with the remains of his troops, within a con- vent, where they were attacked by overwhelming numbers supplied with artillery as well as musketry. Thus isolated from support, and without the means of effectual resistance, they had no alternative but to surrender. Under such a commander as White- locke the brave troops that afterwards under Wel- lington achieved such victories, experienced nothing but a ruinous and shameful defeat ; and Crawford, with three of his regiments, were prisoners in the hands of their triumphant enemies. This was fol- lowed by humiliating conditions, which Whitelocke accepted ; in consequence of which the prisoners were restored, and the British troops withdrawn from the river Plata. After this bitter taste of the degradations with which war is so often accompanied, Crawford was so fortunate as to act under the orders of a very different general, and upon a better field of action, being sent to serve in the army of the Peninsula. His brigade formed part of the centre column which Wellington commanded in person at the battle of Rorica; and he also served in the battle of Vimeiro, which was fought on the same month. Crawford was joined to the expedition of General Sir John Moore, and occupied a conspicuous place in confronting the dangers of the retreat to Corunna. One particular service in which he was engaged on these occasions, was at the crossing of the Esla river. While the British stores and baggage were conveyed across by a ferry-boat, General Crawford during that tedious operation was posted with the second light brigade on the left bank of the river — which was high, and commanded the bridge — so that the passage of the troops might be accomplished in safety. In the meantime the French were in close pursuit ; and their cavalry had overtaken the British rearguard, and encountered it in a series of skirmishes. The English horse and the stragglers being now all across the river, Crawford gave orders to destroy the bridge; which was instantly commenced with alacrity, one half of his troops being engaged in the demoli- tion, while the other half kept the enemy at bay. When the work was finished, he withdrew his troops in the face of the pursuers, by laying planks across the broken arches, along which his soldiers marched by single files — a most difficult and dangerous opera- tion; but the night, which was dark, and the swelling of the river, which every moment threatened to flow over the planks, caused the retreat to be undis- covered, and his whole brigade was removed to the other side in safety. After this successful exploit, General Crawford was sent by Sir John Moore with 3000 men to keep open the road to Vigo, and secure its port, as a place of embarkation for the British army if it should be impossible to effect it at Corunna. Finding that his stay in this quarter was unnecessary, Crawford commenced his march to rejoin Wellington. Ilis troops, after a march of twenty miles were in bivouac near Malpartida de l'laccncia, when they were roused from their repose by the reports which the runaway Spaniards had spread in that quarter. Ap- prehending that some critical event was in progress at Wellington's head-quarters, Crawford allowed his men to rest only a few hours ; and leaving behind him about fifty of the weakest, he commenced his march, resolving not to halt until he had joined the conflict at Talavera. As his brigade advanced, he ROBERT CRAWFORD. 3C7 was met by crowds of Spanish fugitives, with cries of "The British army is defeated — Sir Arthur Wellesley is killed— The French are only a few miles distant!" These cowards, whose vision was distracted by their fear, even pretended to point out the enemy's advanced posts on the nearest hills. But these reports, instead of stopping only hastened the march of the troops; and leaving only seventeen stragglers behind them, they, in twenty-six hours, accomplished a march of sixty-two English miles, each man carrying from fifty to sixty pounds weight upon his shoulders. "Had the historian Gibbon known of such a march," exclaims Napier, with honest military pride, "he would have spared his sneer about the 'delicacy of modern soldiers.'" It has been characterized by the historian of Modern Europe as the most rapid march by any foot- soldiers of any nation during the whole war. Deep must have been the regret of such heroes when they arrived in a close compact body at the field of Talavera, to find that their efforts had been useless only by an hour or two — that the battle of Talavera had just been fought and won. When the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo, and the cap- ture of other important towns by the French, occa- sioned the transference of the war from Spain to Portugal, General Crawford occupied a conspicuous part during the retreat of the British army from the one country to the other. He was appointed by Wellington to secure the line of the Coa, for which service he had three regiments of admirably trained infantry, and 400 excellent German hussars, while generals Picton and Cole were to come up to his aid if required. Crawford admirably fulfilled his task, stationing his troops in small detachments along the bank of the Agueda, so skilfully, that they extended twenty-five miles, and could not be attacked except at great disadvantage. During these arrange- ments, prodigious activity was necessary, so that lie was everywhere; but he was nearly starved from his post, no money nor supplies being forthcoming. It was necessary to procure corn, and being of a fiery impatient temper, he seized upon some church plate, for which rash act he was immediately rebuked. But no popular explosion of the Spaniards followed; and the priests, convinced of his necessities, and the prompt means he would use in relieving them, took care to have his soldiers provided with supplies. The enemy gathered upon him in such force as might have overwhelmed him, but after several skir- mishes lie continued to maintain his ground until Ciudad Rodrigo had fallen. After this capture the whole French army, to the number of 6o.(XX) men, advanced, upon which Wellington, aware of Craw- ford's fiery temper, ordered him not in any case to fight beyond the Coa. But the neighbourhood of such a force, after he had kept it three months at bay, and the presence of Massena himself, who now commanded it, was too much for prudential con- siderations, or even for positive commands, and with his small force of 4000 infantry and Iioo cavalry he prepared to give battle. This terrible affair, called the battle of the Coa, which occurred on the 24th of July, was one ol the most remarkable episodes of the whole of this important war. The gallantry and confidence of the British seem to have confounded the calcula- tions of the enemy as to their numbers, and such was the nature of their attacks over the whole field, as served to keep up the delusion. Two hundred and seventy British and forty-four Portuguese were killed, wounded, or taken, while the French lost above a thousand men; and when the engagement ceased it was upon equal terms, neither party having ob- tained the victory. But such a resistance on the part of the British was tantamount to many vic- tories. During the battle General Picton, who ought to have supported Crawford, came up alone from Pinhel, and when the latter desired the support of the others division it was refused, and the two generals parted after a sharp altercation. In their respective char- acters, which the author of the History 0/ the Penin- sula War has sketched, we can perceive the men themselves, as well as the causes of their disagree- ment. "Picton and Crawford were not formed by nature to act cordially together. The stern counte- nance, robust frame, saturnine complexion, caustic speech, and austere demeanour of the first promised little sympathy with the short thick figure, dark flash- ing eyes, quick movements, and fiery temper of th • second; nor, indeed, did they often meet without a quarrel. Nevertheless they had many points of re- semblance in their characters and fortunes. Both were inclined to harshness, and rigid in command; both prone to disobedience, yet exacting entire sub- mission from inferiors, and they were alike ambitious and craving of glory. They both possessed decided military talents, were enterprising and intrepid, yet neither were remarkable for skill in handling troo] s under fire. This, also, they had in common, that both, after distinguished services, perished in arms, fighting gallantly; and being celebrated as genera's of division while living, have, since their death, been injudiciously spoken of, as rivalling their great leader in war. ... If they had even comprehended the profound military and political combinations he was conducting, the one would have carefully a\ fighting on the Coa, and the other, far from ref would have eagerly proffered his support."' The next affair in which Crawford distinguished himself was the battle of Busaco. Wellington had selected this steep rugged ground as the l>est for de- fence, and having made his arrangements, he awaited the attack of Massena and Ney, in the confidence of being successful. Crawford moved down from his post on the 25th of September, 1S10, and at th • sight of the enemy gathering in front, seemed dis- posed to repeat the desperate experiment of the Coa. Apprehending such a result, which v. have disconcerted his whole plan of action, \\ 1 ton sent orders to withdraw this division. In the battle that followed, Crawford, who was oj ; osed to Ney, had so advantageously disposed his troo] - the heights, that they could not be attacked but at great disadvantage; and standing alone on one 1 t the rocks which overlooked the enemy, he watched the motions below, and the advance of the French to attack him. Now was the time, and in a shrill voice lie ordered his soldiers to charge; ',' command was obeyed with equal alacrity, ai few minutes the French were driven in confu.-i down the steep. After this success, v.v.<\ win heat of conflict was succeeded by a momentary tan • for relieving the wounded, a Frei ch 1 ni] any 1 - wards evening seized a village within half-n shot of Crawford's division, and refr.-< i ; > ; ' This was enough to kindle the ge: after cannonading the village, he - '■ ■'; • third regiment, which drove 1 ut t! I 1 minutes. When the events on the battle of Fuentes d'Onore. Ma) 5. iSlI. Crawford with his light d:v;-i of the seventh divisi >n over the rivei I : -. a: 1 then retired slowly ovt r the ] by the enemy's horse, which contii ll nk 1 him; but the square- rresci'.: for- midable aspect th / " them. After this succc-s.ul dcr. . :i n, the 59 S ROBERT CRAWFORD JAMES CRICHTON. light division formed a reserve to the right of the first division, and performed an effectual part in the conflict. After the skirmish at Elbodo, and the retrograde movement of. the British army, Crawford received orders from Wellington to fall back upon Giunaldo, at which the British troops were to be concentrated. It was a movement that demanded the utmost speed, for Wellington, who was there in person, had scarcely 15,000 men, while Marmont had collected 60,000 in front of him. The order was delivered at two o'clock; but Crawford, who was only sixteen miles distant, did not arrive until three on the following day. Unaware of the critical condition of his chief, averse to anything that looked like a retreat, and desirous to signalize himself by some bold deed against the enemy who followed his footsteps, his march had been a very leisurely process; on the other hand, Wellington, who would not abandon the light division, awaited its arrival. It was well that he could concentrate his troops from other quar- ters during the night, and that Marmont was ignorant of his situation. On the arrival of Crawford with his division, his commander said to him nothing more than, "I am glad to see you safe, Crawford." The other replied, "Oh, I was in no danger, I assure you." "But I was from your conduct," replied Wellington. This mild rebuke from such a man was almost equivalent to the condemnation of a court- martial. In the night Wellington, by a skilful con- centric movement from Giunaldo and other neigh- bouring places, united the whole army on new ground twelve miles behind Giunaldo. The career of the daring and chivalrous Crawford was now drawing to an abrupt close. The reduction of Ciudad Rodrigo being necessary for the success of our arms, Lord Wellington, after investing the for- tress eleven days in the face of a superior enemy, resolved to take it by storm. On the 19th of January, I Si 2, two large breaches having been completed, the third division, under General Picton, was appointed to storm the greater opening, while Crawford with his light division was to undertake the less. It was signilicant of the desperate nature of the enterprise, that two of the bravest generals of the British service were selected to conduct it. Crawford's division carried the smaller breach; but Crawford himself fell mortally wounded on the glacis, while bringing up his troops to the attack. A musket-shot which had struck his left arm, penetrated his side, and lodged in the lungs. He was immediately carried to the rear, but, not withstanding the attempts of the surgeons, who bled him twice, he did not recover from a deadly insensible stupor until the following morning. lie felt that recovery was impossible, and when General .Stewart talked of future achievements, by which the campaign was likely to be distinguished, and the share which his friend might have in them, Crawford in a faint voice answered that his last fight had been fought, and that all would soon be over. On the 23 1 his pain was so much abated that he was able to converse witli apparent ease, and he spoke chiefly of his wife and children. Again and again lie be- sought his aide-de-camp to tell his wife that he was sure they would meet in heaven, and that there was a providence over all which never would forsake the soldier's widow and his orphans. Thus he continued till he died on the 24th, in the midst of a profound slumber. A grave was dug for him at the foot of the breach which his light division had so gallantly won ; and Wellington, who so highly valued his military qualities that he could overlook his faults, attended his funeral, as did also several of the chief officers of the British and Spanish armies. General Crawford married Bridget, daughter of Henry Hol- land, Esq., who with three sons survived him; and a monument to his memory, and that of Major- general M'Kinnon, who also fell in the storming of Ciudad Rodrigo, was erected in St. Paul's Cathedral, London. CREECH, William, an eminent bookseller, was the son of the Rev. William Creech, minister of Newbattle, a most respectable clergyman, and of Miss Mary Buley, an English lady related to a family of rank in Devonshire. He was born in the year 1745, and received a complete classical educa- tion at the school at Dalkeith, which was taught by Mr. Barclay, a preceptor of some distinction, who also educated the first Viscount Melville, and the Lord-chancellor Loughborough. He was at first designed for the medical profession, but eventually was bound apprentice to Mr. Kincaid, a bookseller in Edinburgh. In the year 1766 Mr. Creech went upon a tour of the Continent, in company with Lord Kilmaurs, son of the Earl of Glencairn. After his return, in 1771, he was received by his former master into partnership, and finally, in 1773, left in full possession of the business. For forty-four years Mr. Creech carried on by far the most extensive bookselling concern in Scotland, publishing the writ- ings of many of the distinguished men who adorned Scottish literature at the close of the eighteenth century. His shop, which occupied a conspicuous situation in the centre of the old town, and yet, by a curious chance, commanded a view thirty miles into the country, was, during all that long period, the rialto of literary commerce and intercourse, while his house in the neighbourhood also attracted its more select crowds at the breakfast hour, under the name of Creee/i's levee. While thus busied in sending the works of his friends into the world, he occasionally contributed articles to the newspapers and other periodical works, generally in reference to the passing follies of the day, of which he was a most acute and sarcastic observer. During his own lifetime, he published a volume of these trifles, under the title of Edinburgh Fugitive Pieces, which was republished with his name, and with some addi- tions, after his death. He was one of the founders of the Speculative Society in 1764. Mr. Creech's style of composition is only worthy of being spoken of with respect to its ironical humour, which was certainly its only feature of distinction. This humour, though said to have been very power- ful when aided by the charm of his own voice and manner in conversation, is of too cold, wiry, and artificial a kind to have much effect in print. It must also be mentioned, that, although very staid and rigid in style, it involves many allusions by no means of a decorous nature. In private life Mr. Creech shone conspicuously as a pleasant companion and conversationist, being possessed of an inexhaustible fund of droll anecdote, which he could narrate in a characteristic manner, and with unfailing effect. lie thus secured general esteem, in despite, it appeared, of extraordinary loudness for money, and penuriousness of habits, which acted to the preclusion not only of all bene- volence of disposition, but even of the common honesty of discharging his obligations when the}' were due. lie died, unmarried, on the 14th of January, I Si 5. CRICHTON, Jamks, commonly styled the Ad- mirable Crichton. The learned and accurate Dr. Kippis, editor of the Biographia Britannica, was the first, we believe, who thoroughly sifted and critically JAMES CRICHTON. 399 examined the truth or consistency of those marvel- lous stories which had so long attached to and ren- dered famous the name of the Admirable Crichton. Many had long doubted their credibility, and many more had been deluded by them. It fell to the lot of this keen critic, by a minute and candid investi- gation of the truth, to confirm and rectify the minds of both. James Crichton was the son of Robert Crichton of Eliock, lord-advocate of Scotland, partly in the reigns of Queen Mary and King James VI. His mother was Elizabeth Stuart, only daughter of Sir James Stuart of Beith, a family collaterally descended from Murdoch, Duke of Albany, third son of Robert III. by Elizabeth Muir, and uncle to James I. He was born in the castle of Cluny, in Perthshire, some time about the year 1560. He received the first rudiments of his education at Perth, from which place he was removed at an early age to the university of St. Andrews, at that time esteemed the first school of philosophy in Scot- land. The progress which he made in his studies is said to have been astonishing. He had hardly passed his twelfth year when he took his degree as i!achelor of Arts; two years afterwards, that of Mas- ter of Arts; being then esteemed the third scholar in the university for talents and proficiency. His ex- cellence did not stop here. Before attaining the age of twenty he had, besides becoming master of the sciences, attained to the knowledge of ten different languages, which he could write and speak to per- fection. He had also every accomplishment which it is befitting or ornamental in a gentleman to have. He practised the arts of drawing and painting, and improved himself to the highest degree in riding, fencing, dancing, singing, and in playing upon all sorts of musical instruments. It remains only to add, that this extraordinary person possessed a form and face of great beauty and symmetry; and was unequalled in every exertion requiring activity and strength. He would spring at one bound the space of twenty or twenty-four feet in closing with his antagonist: and he added to a perfect science in the sword, such strength and dexterity that none could rival him. Crichton, now about the age of twenty, and thus accomplished, set out upon his travels; and is said first to have directed his course to Paris. It was customary in that age to hold public disputations, in which questions alike abstruse and useless in the scholastic philosophy were discussed. Soon after his arrival in this city, he determined, in compliance with such a usage, to distinguish himself by a public display of part of his great acquirements. To this end he affixed placards to the gates of the different schools, halls, and colleges of the university, inviting ail those versed in any art or science, discipline, or faculty, whether practical or theoretic, to dispute with him in the college of Navarre, that day six weeks, by nine of the cluck in the morning, where he would attend them, and be ready to answer to whatever should be proposed to him in any art or science, and in any of these twelve languages — Hebrew, Syriac, Arabic, Greek, Latin, Spanish, French, Italian, English, Hutch, Flemish, and Sclavonian ; and this either in verse or prose, at the discretion of the disputant. We give the challenge pretty fully in this place, that we may have no fur- ther occasion to repeat it. During the interesting interval of the six weeks Crichton, we are informed, so far from showing the least flutter or uneasiness, diverted himself with the various amusements of the gay city. He devoted his time almost entirelv to hunting, hawking, riding on a well-managed horse, tossing the pike, handling the musket, and other feats of the like kind ; or to more domestic trifling, such as balls, concerts, cards, dice, or tennis. This nonchalance is said to have provoked the sneers of the students; and their satire went the length of affixing a placard containing the following words on the gate of the Navarre college — "If you would meet with this monster of ]>erfcc- tion, to make search for him either in the tavern or the brothel is the readiest way to find him." The decisive day at length arrived; there attended, we are told, at this singular convocation, about fifty professors, doctors of law ami medicine, and learned men, and above three thousand auditors. He acquitted himself beyond expression in the disputa- tion, which lasted from nine o'clock in the morning till six at night. "So pointedly and learnedly he answered to all the questions which were pro- posed to him, that none but they who were present can believe it. He spake Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and other languages, most politely. JIc was like- wise an excellent horseman; and truly, if a man should live a hundred years without eating, drink- ing, or sleeping, he could not attain to tins man's knowledge, which struck us with a panic fear; for he knew more than human nature can well bear. He overcame four of the doctors of the church ; for in learning none could contest with him, and he was thought to be Antichrist." 1 At the conclusion the president, after a speech of high commendation, rose from his chair, and, amid.-t the admiration and acclamations of the whole assembly, presented him with a diamond ring and a purse full of gold. From the event of this day he attained the title of The Admirable Crichton. Crichton was so little fatigued, we are told, by this Herculean trial of mental prowess, that, on the succeeding day, he appeared with all the tire and freshness of youth at a tilting match in the Louvre, and in the presence of several of the ladies and princes of the court of France, carried away the ring fifteen times successively, ''and broke as man) lances on the Saracen" a chivalrous pastime of tl.e period so called. We next find Crichton at Rome, where he took occasion to exhibit a similar challenge to that of Paris. Here, in presence of the pope, cardinals, bishops, doctors of divinity, and pn : in all the sciences, he again delighted ;-.:. I asl ail spectators by the amazing proofs which he dis- played of Ids universal knowledge. Poccaline, v.] n was then at Rome, relates the transaction somewhat differently. According to this authority. Crii ' placard runs thus: "Nos Jacobus Crichtonus, So tus. cuicunque rei propositi ex improviso rcspor.de- bimus. This was a bold challenge in the capital < f Christendom; and the ridicule which i: cord fail to excite showed itself in a ] .> humour of which is not amiss, though it In "And," said this addendum t<> the chalh that will see it, let him go to the sign of th 1 and //shall be shown." The Italia us that this affront, which put Cricht level of jugglers and mount.! auks, : much that he left the place. He next proceeded to Venice: and it va- ■ nhi-v; y thither that he compost ! . : poems, all by the way which remain to j : . literary and poetical talents of < :: ' • 11. .V iu-Man- utius, the younger to whom it was inscribed, t .■ ' : ■'• and on further a< '•' as ' 1 >L- 400 JAMES CRICIITON. greatly delighted, that he forthwith formed a friend- ship with him. He was of service in introducing Crichton to some of the principal men of Venice; and among the rest to Laurentius Massa, Sperone Speroni, and Joannes Donatus. A presentation soon followed to the doge and senate, before whom lie made an oration, which, for brilliant eloquence and consummate grace, we are led to understand, could not be surpassed. In effect, in the words of Im- perialis, talking of him on this occasion, "he was esteemed a prodigy of nature." Here he likewise disputed upon different subjects in theology, philoso- phy, and the mathematics, before the most eminent professors, in large assemblies. Many people from a distance came to hear and see him ; and, as a late biographer has alleged, "lives of him were drawn up and published." His visit to Venice was, it is conjectured, in the year 1580. After a residence of about four months in Venice, during the latter part of which time he was afflicted with a severe illness, Crichton repaired to Padua, where was a university whose fame, in that age, was spread over Europe. The day after his arrival there was convened in honour of him, at the house of Jacobus Aloisius Cornelius, a meeting of all the learned men of the place, when Crichton opened the assembly with an encomiastic poem in praise of the city, the university, and the persons present. He then disputed for the space of six hours on matters in general ; and, in particular, exposed with great judgment the errors of Aristotle and his commen- tators, which he did, nevertheless, with such engaging modesty as excited universal admiration. In con- clusion, he thought proper to deliver an extempore oration in verse, in praise of ignorance, which was conducted with so much ingenuity ("in order," says one of his biographers, "to reconcile his audience to their comparative inferiority") 1 that his hearers were astonished, and no doubt highly gratified. Another disputation was to have been held in the Bishop of Padua's palace, which some unforeseen circumstances, according to Manutius, prevented. Imperialis, how- ever, differs from this statement; and relates that his father (then thirteen years of age) had witnessed Crichton upon such an occasion; that he was opposed by Archangelus Mercenarius, a famous philosopher; and that he acquitted himself so well as to obtain the approbation of a very honourable company, and even of his antagonist himself. In the midst of the great reputation which Crich- ton now enjoyed, there were not wanting many per- sons who took occasion to detract from it, affecting to consider him as a literary impostor, whose acquire- ments were totally superficial. To put an end at once to all such cavils or invidious reflections, he caused a challenge, similar to the others already made mention of, to be fixed on the gates of St. John and St. Paul's church. The chief novelty on this occasion was, that he engaged, at the pleasure of his opponents, to answer them either in the common logical way, or by numbers and mathematical figures, or in a hundred different sorts of verse. According to Manutius, Crichton sustained this contest without fatigue for three days; during which time he sup- ported his credit and maintained his propositions with such spirit and energy, that from an unusual concourse of people he obtained acclamations and praise-, than which none more magnificent were ever heard by men. It by much exceeded any of his for- mer contents of a similar nature; and it i^ tiie last of them of which we have any account. To Sir Thomas Urquhart posterity is alone in- 1 Tytlcr's Life of ' CricJiton, p. 34. debted for the next incident recorded in the life of the Admirable Crichton, and its interest has certainly suffered little in coming from the graphic pen of that redoubted fabler. We cannot do better than give the exordium in his own words: — "A certain Italian gentleman, of a mighty, able, strong, nimble, and vigorous body, by nature fierce, cruel, warlike, and audacious, and in the gladiatory art so superlatively expert and dexterous, that all the most skilful teachers of escrime and fencing-masters of Italy (which, in matter of choice professors in that faculty, needed never as yet to yield to any nation in the world) were by him beaten to their good behaviour, and, by blows and thrusts given in which they could not avoid, enforced to acknowledge him their over- comer: bethinking himself how, after so great a conquest of reputation, he might by such means be very suddenly enriched, he projected a course of exchanging the blunt to the sharp, and the foils into tucks; and in this resolution, providing a purse full of gold, worth near upon 400 pounds, English money, travelled amongst the most especial and con- siderable parts of Spain, France, the Low Coun- tries, Germany, Pole, Hungary, Greece, Italy, and other places, wherever there was greatest proba- bility of encountering with the eagerest and most atrocious duellists; and immediately after his arrival to any city or town that gave apparent likelihood of some one or other champion that would enter the lists and cope with him, he boldly challenged them, with sound of trumpet, in the chief market-place, to adventure an equal sum of money against that of his, to be disputed at the sword's point who should have both." .Sir Thomas goes on to relate the success of this bravo of Italy, whose person and character he has sketched with so masterly a pencil. "At last re- turning homewards to his own country, loaded with wealth, or rather the spoil of the reputation of these foreigners, whom the Italians call Tramontani, he, by the way, after his accustomed manner of aboard- ing other places, repaired to the city of Mantua." Having received the protection of the duke, and published his challenge, it was not long before he found opponents willing to engage him on his own terms. "For it happened at the same time that three of the most notable cutters in the world (and so highly cried up for valour that all the bravoes of the land were content to give way to their domineering, how insolent soever they should prove, because of their former constantly-obtained victories in the field) were all three together at the court of Mantua; who, hearing of such harvest of 500 pistoles, to be reaped (as they expected) very soon, and with ease, had almost contested among themselves for the priority of the first encounter, but that one of my lord duke's courtiers moved them to ca>t lots who should be first, second, and third, in case none of the former two should prove victorious." Next ensue the successive calamitous combats of these brave men : for he "whose fortune it was to be the first of the three in the field, had the disaster to be the first of the three that was foyled; for at last with a thrust in the throat he was killed dead upon the ground." The second "was laid flat dead upon the place by means of a thrust he received in the heart;" and the last, "his luck being the same with those that preceded him, by a thrust in the belly, he, within four and twenty hours after, gave up the ghost." Sir Thomas manages with the ability, and indeed pretty much in the style, of a standard romancer, the scene which was to wind up the interest of his story to its height. And first he pauses in his narra- tion, to take notice how these lamentable spectacles caused shame and grief to the "Duke and cilie of JAMES CRICHTON. 401 Mantua;" and how "the conquering duellist, proud of a victorie so highly tending to both his honour and profit, for the space of a whole fortnight, or two weeks together, marched daily along the streets of Mantua (without any opposition or controulment) like another Romulus or Marccllus in triumph." The way thus artfully prepared, the true knight, for whom, as in books of romance, this adventure had been reserved, is introduced — " — Which the ncver-too-much-to-be-admircd Crichton perceiving — to wipe off the imputation of cowardice lying upon the court of Mantua, to which he had but even then arrived (although formerly he had been a domestic thereof), he could neither eat nor drink till he had first sent a challenge to the conqueror, appelling him to repair with his best sword in his hand, by nine of the clock in the morn- ing of the next day, in presence of the whole court, in the same place where he had killed the other three, to fight with him upon this quarrell; that in the court of Mantua there were as valiant men as he; and, for his better encouragement to the desired undertaking, he assured him that, to the foresaid 500 pistoles, he would adjoin a thousand more; wishing him to do the like, that the victor, upon the point of his sword, might carry away the richer booty. The challenge, with all its conditions, is no sooner accepted of, the time and place mutually condescended upon, kept accordingly, and the 1500 pistoles, hinc indc, deposited, and the two rapiers of equal weight, length, and goodness, each taking one, in presence of the duke, duchess, with all the noblemen, ladies, magnificoes, and all the choicest of both men, women, and maids of that city, as soon as the signal for the duel was given, by the shot of a great piece of ordinance, of threescore and four pound ball, the two combatants, with a lion-like animosity, made their approach to one another." The combat, as it resembles much in manage- ment and fashion those with which the reader of old romances must be well acquainted, so does it like- wise come up to them in minuteness, we can hardly say tediousness, for of that the author is incapable. Crichton long kept upon the defensive with his adversary, and showed such excellent dexterity, "that he seemed but to play while the other was in earnest." After long fencing, falsifying, and parry- ing, warding from tierce to quart, priming, and seconding, and after every variety of posture had been gone through, "the never-before-conquered Italian finding himself a little faint, enters into a consideration that he may be overmatched, " and sad thoughts seize upon all his spirits. We may indulge the reader with the conclusion of this event- ful conflict in the words of its original chronicler; and in these it may possibly be invested with a propriety and interest which we would but vainly labour to bestow upon it. "Matchless Crichton, seeing it now high time to put a gallant catastrophe to that so-long-dubious combat, animated with a divinely inspired fervencie to fulfil the expectation of the lathes, and crown the duke's illustrious hopes, changeth his garb, falls to act another part, and from defender turns assailant: never did art so grace nature, nor nature second the precepts of art with so much liveliness, arid such ob- servance of time, as when, after he had struck fire out of the steel of his enemie's sword, and gained the feeble thereof, with the fort of his own, by angles of the strongest position, lie did, by geometrical flourishes of straight and oblique lines, so practically execute the speculative part, that, as if there had been remoras and secret charms in the variety of his motion, the fierceness of his foe was in a trice trans- VUL. I. qualified into the numness of a pageant. Then was it that, to vindicate the reputation of the duke's family, and expiate the blood of the three vanquished gentlemen, he alonged a stoccadc de pied ftrmt; then recoyling, he advanced another thrust, and lodged it home; after which, retiring again, his right loot did beat the cadence of the blow that pierced the belly of this Italian; whose heart and throat l>eing hit with the two former stroaks, these three franch bouts given in upon the back of the other: be- sides that, if lines were imagined drawn from the hand that livered them, to the place- which were marked by them, they would represent a perfect isosceles triangle with a perpendicular from the top angle, cutting the basis in the middle; they likewise give us to understand, that by them he was to be made a sacrifice of atonement for the slaughter of the three aforesaid gentlemen, who were wounded in the very same parts of their bodies by other three such venses as these; each whereof being mortal, and his vital spirits exhaling as his blood gushed out, all be- spoke was this, That seeing he could not live, hi- comfort in dying was, that he could not die by the hand of a braver man: after the uttering of whicli words he expiring, with the shril clareens of trumpets, bouncing thunder of artillery, bethwacked beating of drums, universal clapping of hands, and loud acclamations of joy for so great a victory." Crichton generously bestowed the prize of his victory upon the widows of the brave gentlemen whose death-, he- had thus avenged. In consequence, it is said, of this achievement, and the wonderful proficiency of the young Scotsman, the Duke of Mantua made choice of him as tutor to his son, Vincentio di Gonzaga, a young man of dis- solute conduct and unsettled principles. The appoint- ment seems to have been gratifying to all parties; and, as Sir Thomas Urquhart informs us, Crichton composed a comedy on the occasion, which he ex- hibited before the court. This we must by no means enlarge upon; for though that author's account of the matter is complete and curious, it is of great length, and may with more pleasure and advantage be read at large in the original. The piece, we may only remark, belonged to a class of the drama known by the name of the Comedia a soggetto; in which one actor performs all the characters, however numerous; and must appear in the various dresses appropriate to each. The Admirable Crichton had his usual success. The composition was regarded a- one ol the most ingenious satires that ever was made upon mankind. It was the last display, too, oi those wonderful talents and endowments which their pos- sessor was destined to make on the stage of this world; and if, in any part of our narrative, we ma; have betrayed symptoms of incredulity, we lay all such feelings aside in coming to the concluding cir- cumstance, the tragic nature of which must always excite deep sympathy ami regret. On a night of the carnival, as Crichton was : ing from some serenading party, and amusing him- self as he went solitarily along, by playii . guitar, he was suddenly set upon by live or -:\ persons in masks. These, wilii great v;g .1 a:.: bravery, he either put to flight, wounded, ' r kt ; t at a distance. The one who seem 1 to be 1 he contrived to disarm; and this ; 1 the prince, his pupil, Vincentio di G pulling off his mask and disc vering hiu-.sclt. he begged his life. Crichton. on this, k'.l v.) knees, and expressed the 1 mistake, alleging that what he 1; been prompted to by si had anv design u "••'- always be L6 402 JAMES CRICHTON. master of it. Saying this, and taking his sword by the point, he presented it to Gonzaga, who imme- diately received it; and the evil passions by which he had been actuated being inflamed rather than subdued by his shameful discomfiture, he is said in- stantly to have run his defenceless victor through the heart. It ought, however, in justice to be said, that the above, though the popular statement of Crichton's death, has been qualified by more than one of his biographers, in its circumstances of atrocity; and, indeed, though such actions assume a different char- acter in Italy from what, happily, we are acquainted with in this country, he ought to have the advantage of every extenuation which impartiality can allow of. It is uncertain whether the meeting occurred by accident or design. Sir Thomas Urquhart, with his usual romance, has told a most extravagant, and it must be allowed, absurd, love story; thus implicating jealousy in the transaction; but the most probable version seems to be, that Crichton was stabbed in a drunken frolic; that the high rank of the one party, and great merit of the other; the relation in which they stood to each other; and the concealment of the real circumstances came, at length, from the natural love all people, and especially the Italians, have for amplification and exaggeration, to invest the whole in the tragic garb which it now wears. Great and general, according to the old author we have so often quoted, was the grief and lamentation which this sad event caused in Mantua. The whole court went into mourning for nine months. The epitaphs and elegies written to his memory, and stuck upon his hearse, would exceed, if collected, the bulk of Homer's works; and long after, his picture had its place in the closets and galleries of the Italian nobi- lity; representing him on horseback, with a lance in the one hand, and a book in the other. In a sum- mary of excellences which we cannot help tran- scribing, the same author thus takes leave of the individual he has in so great a degree tended to exalt: — "Crichton gained the esteem of kings and princes, by his magnanimity and knowledge ; of noblemen and gentlemen, by his courtliness and breeding; of knights, by his honourable deportment and pregnancy of wit; of the rich, by his affability and good fellowship; of the poor, by his munificence and liberality; of the old, by his constancy and wis- dom; of the young, by his mirth and gallantry; of the learned, by his universal knowledge; of the soldiers, by his undaunted valour and courage; of the merchants and artificers, by his upright dealing and honesty; and of the fair sex, by his beauty and hand- someness, in which respect he was a masterpiece of nature." Crichton is supposed to have been in the twenty- second year of his age at the time of his death. One or two pictures are preserved of him; and there is reason to believe that they are originals. By these it would appear that his frame was well proportioned, and his head well shaped, though rather small than otherwise. His face is symmetrical and handsome, but has no particular expression of character. There is a print of him in the Museum Ilistoricum et l'hy- sicum of Imperialis, which, though poorly executed, is probably authentic. Sucli is the wonderful story told us by early writers of the Admirable Crichton, in which his own age devoutly believed, and which a love of the mar- vellous has continued to perpetuate to our own day. Its incredible character, however, is of itself sufficient to discredit it, and a dispassionate examination to reduce it within reasonable bounds; and this reduc- tion has been attempted by Dr. Kippis, the chief biographer of Crichton, in the following conclusion: — "It is evident that he was a youth of such lively parts as excited great present admiration, and high expectations with regard to his future attainments. He appears to have had a fine person, to have been adroit in his bodily exercises, to have possessed a peculiar facility in learning languages, to have en- joyed a remarkably quick and retentive memory, and to have excelled in a power of declamation, a fluency of speech, and a readiness of reply. His knowledge, likewise, was probably very uncommon for his years; • and this, in conjunction with his other qualities, enabled him to shine in public disputation. But whether his knowledge and learning were accurate or profound may justly be questioned; and it may equally be doubted whether he would have arisen to any extraordinary degree of eminence in the literary world. It will always be reflected upon with regret, that his early and untimely death prevented this matter from being brought to the test of experiment." CROMARTY, Earl of. See Mackenzie, George. CRUDEN, Alexander, styled by himself, Alex- ander the Corrector, was born at Aberdeen, on the 31st May, 1700; the son of a respectable merchant and bailie of that city. Having received a good elementary education, he entered Marischal College, with the intention of studying for the church. He there made considerable progress in his studies, and had the degree of Master of Arts conferred upon him, when decided symptoms of insanity appeared. His malady has been absurdly ascribed to the bite of a mad dog, and, with more probability, to a dis- appointment in love. At all events, it is certain that he became so unreasonably importunate in his addresses to the daughter of one of the clergymen of Aberdeen, that it was found necessary to put him under restraint. This lady, however, it afterwards appeared, was unworthy of the devotion he paid her, and there is a very interesting anecdote of his meet- ing her many years afterwards in London, where she had hid herself after fleeing from Aberdeen. On his release from confinement in 1722, he left the scene of his disappointments, and repairing to England, found employment as tutor for many years in a family in Hertfordshire, and afterwards in the Isle of Man. In the year 1732 he settled in London, where he was employed by Mr. Watts, the printer, as corrector of the press; he also engaged in trade as a bookseller, which he carried on in a shop under the Royal Exchange. Having gained the esteem of many of the principal citizens of London, he was, on the recommendation of the lord-mayor and alder- men, appointed bookseller to the queen. Soon after Cruden's arrival in London he had commenced his elaborate work called the Concord- ance of the Bible; and having, after inconceivable labour, finished it, he had the honour of dedicating and presenting it to Queen Caroline, the consort of George II., who graciously promised to "remember him;" but, unfortunately for him, she died suddenly a few days after. Involved in embarrassments by the expense of publishing his Concordance, and by his neglect of business while he was compiling it, he abandoned his trade, and sunk into a state of melancholy despondency. His former mental disease now returned upon him with increased violence, and he was guilty of so many extravagances, that his friends were obliged to place him in a private lunatic asylum. On his recovery he published a lengthened account of his sufferings, under the title of "'/he London Citizen exceedingly Injured; giving an account of his severe and long campaign at Bethnal's Green, ALEXANDER CKUDEN. 403 for nine weeks and six days; the Citizen being sent there in March, 1738, by Robert Wightman, a notoriously conceited whimsical man; where he was chained and handcuffed, strait- waistcoated and imprisoned ; with a history of Wightman's blind bench, a sort of court that met at Wightman's room, and unaccountably proceeded to pass decrees in re- lation to the London Citizen," &c. &c. He also instituted legal proceedings against his physician and this Mr. Wightman, the proprietor of the asylum, for cruelty. He was not able, however, to substan- tiate his charge, although there is much reason to fear that, in pursuance of the treatment to which lunatics were at that time subjected, Cruden was harshly dealt with; which seems to have been the less excusable as he appears to have been at all times harmless. The next fifteen years of his life were passed by him apparently in a state of inoffensive imbecility, although his former employers did not consider him incapable of continuing corrector of the press. In the year 1753 his relations conceived themselves justified in again putting him under restraint; but as he was perfectly inoffensive he was only confined for a few days. On his liberation he insisted that his sister, Mrs. Wild, who sanctioned these proceed- ings, should consent to a species of retributory re- conciliation with him, and submit to a confinement of forty-eight hours in Newgate, and pay him a fine of ten pounds. Her rejection of this proposal was a matter of great surprise to him, and he therefore brought an action of damages against her and others, laying his claim at ,£10,000. On the verdict being returned for the defendants, he was quite resigned; but published an account of his ill-usage, under the title of The Adventures of Alexander the Corrector, which, like all his other publications of a similar description, has that air of mingled insanity and reason which its title indicates, and which pervades other works by him on similar topics. His insanity now displayed itself in many ways sufficiently whim- sical. Fully persuaded that he was commissioned by Heaven to reform the manners of the age, he assumed the title of Alexander the Corrector. To impress the public witii the validity of his preten- sions he printed and circulated on small pieces of paper, sentences confirmatory of his high calling, such as that '"Cruden was to be a second Joseph, to be a great man at court, and to perform great things for the spiritual Israel of Egypt." He went about the country exhorting the people to reform their manners and to keep holy the Sabbath-day. In order that his exhortations might have greater weight with his hearers, he wished his authority to be recognized by the king and council, and that parliament should constitute him by act " 'The Cor- rector of the People.'''' Still farther to assist him in his mission, he made a formal application to his majesty, to confer on him the honour of knighthood; "for," said he, '"I think men ought to seek after titles rather to please others than themselves." He gives an amusing account of his attendance at court while soliciting this honour, and of his frequent in- terviews witli the lords in waiting, the secretaries of state, and other persons oi rank; and complains grievously that his applications were not attended to. From his censure, however, he exempts the Karl of l'aulet, who, he says, "spoke civilly to him; for, being goutish in his feet, he could not run away from the Corrector as others were apt to <\o." Wearied, at length, by his unavailing attendance at court, he next aspired to the honour of representing the city of London in parliament, and was a candi- date at the general election of 1754. His addresses to the livery were singularly ridiculous, but he was withheld by no discouragement; for, when one of the bishops, with whom he had obtained an inter- view, intimated to him that he had no chance of the election, unless Providence especially appeared for him. "This," he said in his account of the inter- view, "the Corrector readily acknowledged :" and indeed in his addresses he mentioned that he ex- pected a divine interposition in his favour. After his failure in this pursuit, he consoled himself wit;: the reflection, "that he had their hearts, although their hands had been promised away.'' "The Cor- rector," he adds, "was very cheerful' and contented, and not at all afflicted at the loss of his election.'' Cruden, as a lover, was remarkably susceptible, and no less zealous in the pursuit of the objects of his admiration, than in his attempt-, to attain poli- tical distinction. Amongst others, Miss Abney, the daughter of Sir Thomas Abney, the late I mayor of London, was persecuted by his addresses. She, of course, discountenanced this folly, and the result was, what her admirer styled, "his declara- tion of war," being a lengthened memorial, wherein he rehearses his manifold grievances, and declare-, that, since she had refused all his more reasonable overtures, he was now determined to carry on the war after an extraordinary manner, "by shooting of great numl>ers of bullets from his camp; namely, by earnest prayers to Heaven, day and night, that her mind may be enlightened and her heart softened." This, and all his other absurdities, had their rise ::i the desire to increase his own importance and wealth, by which he expected to render himself more power- ful and effective in the execution of his imaginary mission for the reformation of the manners of the age. In 1754 he was employed as corrector of the press by Mr. Woodfall, the well-known publisher of Junius' Letters; and, although his labours seldom terminated before one in the morning, yet he would be found again out of bed by six o'clock busily em- ployed turning over the leaves of his bible, and with the most scrupulous care amending and improving his Concordance, preparatory to a new edition. In this drudgery he would patiently work until the evening, when he repaired to the printing-office. The benevolence which animated Cruden's exer- tions for the benefit of his fellow-creatures was mo-: disinterested and unwearied; and as far as hi vice or money went, he aided all who were miserable or in distress. In the year 1762 he was the means of saving the life of a poor sailor condemned for forgery: having been present at the trial, he became persuaded that the accused had been the dupe <■! one more designing than himself, and, as he after- wards found him to be simple, and even ign» the nature of the crime for which lie was com to suffer, he importuned government so ur.ee. that at last he succeeded in getting the pun: commuted into banishment. On another o he rescued a wretched female from the received her into his house; and, ha\ing 1::- her in her duties, she remained in l:i> - r\ his death. Next to the desire of d seems to have been the most ] 1 m ' ' . Cruden's character. In the ] ' ' tween Mr. Wilkes and the . : • a pamphlet against the ral about with a spunge and 1;:. . ! walls of the metropolis the \ >; v.'..v, "N .45. In the year 1769 Cruden scenes of his youth, where he wv.- :< •.:••. : w. siderable respect, and wa- .... of the public halls to dc!i\ ral •.'.;:< n t' sitv 01 a reformation ....:. rant • emr.e 4°4 WILLIAM CRUICKSHANKS WILLIAM CULLEN. holy the Sabbath-day. Having remained about a year in Aberdeen, he returned to London, and soon after, having complained for a few days previous, he was found dead in his closet, in the' pious attitude of prayer. He died at his lodgings in Camden Street, Islington, 1st of November, 1770, in the 71st year of his age. Never having been married, he left his moderate savings among his relations, with the exception of ^"ioo, which he bequeathed to en- dow a bursary in Marischal College, Aberdeen, and some other trifling legacies for charitable purposes in the metropolis. Cruden was remarkable for the courteous affability of his manners, his active bene- volence, and his pious devotion. His published works are: — The ILstory of Richard Potter, 8vo, being that of the poor sailor whose life he saved; The History and Excellency of the Scriptures prefixed to the Compendium of the Holy Bible, Aberdeen, 2 vols. 24mo; An Index to Bishop Newton's Edition of 'Mil- tons Works — an elaborate work only inferior to the Concordance; A Scripture Dictionary, which was published in Aberdeen soon after his death; various pamphlets, particularly those wherein he gives a detailed account of his Adventures, These display some humour and much single-hearted insanity. But his great work was his Concordance of the Old and New Testaments. This is a work of the most extraordinary labour, and although it was not the first Concordance of the Bible, yet it affords a wonder- ful instance of what individual industry may accom- plish. The first Concordance which was compiled, is said to have given employment to 500 monks, yet did Cruden by his own unassisted exertions produce one infinitely more complete, elaborate, and accurate than had ever appeared, and this not by copying from others, but by the most careful examination and study of the Bible. It is satisfactory to know that the labour bestowed on this work did not go unrewarded. Although the first edition was for a long time unsuccessful, it was ultimately sold off, and in 1 76 1, thirty years after its publication, a second edition was called for, which he dedicated to George III. who was graciously pleased to order him ,£100; and a third edition was published in 1769. For the second edition the publishers gave Cruden ^■500, and when the third was called for, an addi- tional present of ^300, besides twenty copies on fine paper. An edition was published in 1810, under the careful superintendence and correction of Mr. David Jive, and in 1825 the work had reached the tenth edition. Indeed, so valuable and useful is this work that it is now reckoned an indispensable part of every clerical library. CRUICKSHANKS, William, F.R.S., an emi- nent surgeon in London, the assistant, partner, and successor of the famous Dr. William Hunter of the Windmill Street anatomical school, was the son of an officer in the excise, and was born at Edinburgh in the year 1745. After completing the elementary branches of his education at the schools of Kdin- burgh, he commenced the study of divinity at that university; but he soon forsook his clerical studies and directed his attention to medicine. With a view to that profession, he removed to Glasgow, where he went through a complete course of medical educa- tion at the university. Having devoted eight years of his life to assiduous study, he obtained, through the recommendation of Dr. l'itcairn, the situation of librarian to Dr. William Hunter of London; and so highly did that great man estimate his talents, that he soon after appointed him his assistant, and ulti- mately raised him to the honour of being his partner in superintending his establishment in Windmill Street. On the death of Dr. Hunter in the year 1783, the students of that institution thought so favourably of Mr. Cruickshanks' professional acquire- ments, that they presented an address to him and to the late Dr. Baillie, requesting that they might assume the superintendence of the school; which they did. Mr. Cruickshanks is known to the world by his medical publications; and as a teacher and writer he acquired a high reputation for his knowledge of anatomy and physiology. In the year 1786 he pub- lished his principal work, The Anatomy of the Absor- bent Vessels of the Human Body, a production of ac- knowledged merit, which has been translated into several languages. He also wrote an ingenious paper on the nerves of living animals, which establishes the important fact of the regeneration of mutilated nerves. This paper, however, although read before the Royal Society, was not published in the Transac- tions of that body until several years afterwards. This delay was owing to the interference of Sir John Pringle, who conceived the idea that Mr. Cruick- shanks had controverted some of the opinions of the great Haller. In the year 1797 Mr. Cruickshanks was elected fellow of the Royal Society. In 1799 he made his experiments on insensible perspiration, which he added to his work on the absorbent vessels. He had suffered for many years from acute pain in the head, and though warned that this pain arose from extravasated blood settled upon the sensorium, and that the greatest abstinence in his regimen was indispensable in order to prevent fatal consequences, yet, regardless of this warning, he continued to live freely; and, as had been foreseen, he was cut off sud- denly in the year 1800, in the fifty-fifth year of his age. With much personal and intellectual vanity, Mr. Cruickshanks was an excellent anatomist and able physiologist, and a cool and skilful surgeon. He was generous and truly benevolent, literally going about doing good. He was one of the medical men who had the melancholy honour of attending Dr. Samuel Johnson in his last illness. In 1773 he was married to a lady from Dundee, who died in the year 1795, by whom he had four daughters. CULLEN, Lord. See Grant, Sir Francis. CULLEN, William, M.D., one of the most highly gifted and accomplished physicians that Scot- land has produced, was born on the 15th of April, 1710, 1 in the parish of Hamilton, in the county of Lanark. His father was by profession a writer or attorney, and also farmed a small estate in the adjoin- ing parish of Bothwell, and was factor to the Duke of Hamilton. 1 1 is mother was the daughter of Mr. Roberton of Whistlebury, the younger son of the family of Roberton of Ernock. The family consisted of seven suns and two daughters, and the subject of the present biographical sketch was the second son. Occupying a respectable station of life, yet the parents of young Cullen, from the scantiness of their means, found it necessary to place him at the grammar- school of Hamilton, where he received the first' part of his education. Although the funds of his family were not very ample, he was sent from the grammar- school of Hamilton to the university of Glasgow; and at the same time was bound apprentice to Mr. John Paisley, who was a member of the faculty of Physicians and Surgeons, and enjoyed an extensive 1 In most of the biographical notices published of Dr. Cullen, the date of his birth is referred to the year 1712, an error cor- rected by Dr. Thomson, in his elaborate Life of Dr. Cullen, 8vo, 1832, who states the year of his birth to have been 1710, on the authority of the Session Record of the parish of Hamilton. WILLIAM CULLEN. 4' 5 practice in that city. It does not appear that he went through a regular course of education at this seminary, but having early chosen medicine as a pro- fession, the classes which he attended were probably regulated with a view to that object. Having terminated his studies at Glasgow, Dr. Cullen, towards the end of the year 1729, went to London, with the view of improving himself in his profession; and there, soon after his arrival, through the interest of commissioner Cleland, who was a friend of Tope, and author of a letter prefixed to one of the editions of the Dunciad he obtained the appointment of surgeon to a merchant ship which traded between London and the West Indies. Mr. Cleland, a relation of his own, was fortunately the captain of the vessel in which he obtained this ap- pointment. During the voyage he did not neglect the opportunity it afforded him of studying the effects of the diversity of climate on the human constitution, and the diseases which are so prevalent and fatal in our West Indian settlements. The facts he then gathered — the observations he then made — he subse- quently referred to in his lectures in Glasgow and in Edinburgh. After returning from the West Indies, he remained a short time in London, where he attended the shop of Mr. Murray, an apothecary; and it is supposed that here he first paid particular attention to the study of materia medica. About this period — the end of the year 1 731, or the begin- ning of the year 1732 — in consequence of the death of his eldest brother, the duty of arranging his father's affairs devolved upon him ; besides which, the necessity of providing for the education of his younger brothers and sisters rendered it expedient for him to return to Scotland. Aware of these cir- cumstances, his friend, Captain Cleland, invited him to reside with him at his family estate of Auchinlec, in the parish of Shotts, and to take charge of the health of his son, who was affected with a lingering disorder. Whilst residing there, he seems to have combined with his medical practice the most unre- mitting application to his studies. Captain Cleland was often heard to say, that nothing could exceed his assiduity at this period; for when not engaged in visiting patients or in preparing medicines, his time was wholly occupied with his books. Dr. Cullen having succeeded to a small legacy by the death of a relation, determined to devote his attention exclusively to his studies, before fixing himself as a medical practitioner in the town of Hamilton. Accordingly he first proceeded to the retired village of Rothbury, near Wooler in North- umberland ; and afterwards to Edinburgh, where, engaged in the prosecution of his general studies, he remained during the winter sessions 1734-35-36. The medical school of the university of Edinburgh was at this period only beginning to attain the cele- brity it now enjoys; for although professorships to each of the different branches of medical science had been instituted, and several attempts had been made to systemati. ■ a course of instruction, it was not until the year 1720 that these important objects were carried into effect. The Royal Infirmary, although in progress, was not at this time open to the public, nor were the advantages that are to be derived from clinical lectures vet recognized. A useful adjunct to this school of medicine was a( this | eri >d formed, by the institution of the Medical Society, which originated in the latter end of the August of 1 734- Dr. Cleghom, Dr. Cuming. Dr. Ru--el. Dr. Hamil- ton, Mr. Archibald Taylor, and Dr. James Kennedy. then fellow-students at Edinburgh, and intimately acquainted with each other, after spending a social evening at a tavern, agreed to meet once .1 fortnight at their respective lodgings, where it was arranged that a dissertation in English or Latin on some medical subject should Ik- read, and afterwards dis- cussed by the auditors. Dr. Cullen, says the //. - tory of the society, with the discrimination charac- teristic of a mind devoted to activ.tv and eager 1:1 the pursuit of knowledge, hastened, as appears from a part of his correspondence still preserved, :■• himself with a society which even in its ii had honours and advantages at its disposal. In it's labours, it may safely be presumed, he took a pro- minent and animated share, and there can I doubt that the value of its ■ attested and augmented by his distinguished parti- cipation. 1 This Society, thus humble in its com- mencement, subsequently held it in a room in the Royal Infirmary, until, adequate funds having been raised, the building known as the of the Medical Society in Surgeon's Square v..., founded. Dr. Cullen continued his studies in Edinburgh until the spring of 1736, when he left it to con.:, business as a surgeon in Hamilton, where he appears to have been employed by the Duke and Duchess of Hamilton, and all the families of any consideration in that neighbourhood. During his residence there, the Duke of Hamilton was attacked with an alarm- ing disease, which did not readily yield to the re- medies he prescribed, and therefore it was de advisable to call in Dr. Clerk, who was accon sent for from Edinburgh. This accomplished physi- cian highly approved of Dr. Cullen's management of the duke's case, and was so pleased with Dr. Cullen that he ever afterwards took every 1 tunity of cultivating his friendship. At Han Cullen also became acquainted with Dr. W Hunter, with whom he ever afterwards c terms of the greatest intimacy, each living to see the other placed, by the concurrent suffraj medical brethren, at the head of his own depart of medical science. When Dr. William Hunt became the friend of Dr. Cullen, the latt : had c< m- pleted his elementary education, and the agrei that took place between them was, that I >r. \\ i- liam Hunter should go and prosecute his n studies in Edinburgh and London, an I return to settle in Hamilton as a partii . : I . Cullen; the object of which partner-'. Dr. Cullen, who disliked the surgii his 1 rofession, to practise only as a physician; v.'.... his friend and partner, Dr. William Hunter, \ act among their connections only as a surgeon. I 'r. Hunter's biographer, Dr. Koart Simm ' -. gi\ following account of the nature ai this arrangement, "which," says Dr. "is, I have reason to belie-... I II - father's consent having been prcvi - Mr. Hunter in 1737 went to r In the family of this ex( eilenl he passed nearly three years; a: . tl often heard to acknowledge, v of his life. It w. it and prosecute his studies in 1 ii: and afterwards return and -•_ : . " I partnership with I >r. Cullen. Mr. 1 • ■ .' ing his stu lies went to I.ond - . ■ James Doug! . h ' '■•■■'' the com] bones, and ' and industry, 406 WILLIAM CULLEN. This induced him to pay particular attention to Mr. Hunter; and finding him acute and sensible, he desired him to make another visit. A second con- versation confirmed the doctor in the good opinion he had formed of Mr. Hunter; and, without any further hesitation, he invited him into his family to assist in his dissections, and to superintend the education of his son. Mr. Hunter, having com- municated this offer to his father and Dr. Cullen, the latter readily and heartily granted his concur- rence to it; but his father, who was very old and infirm, and expected his return with impatience, consented with reluctance to a scheme, the success of which he thought precarious." Dr. Cullen having, for the advantage of his friend, thus generously relinquished the agreement between them, was for a time deprived of a partner; but still determining to practise only as a physician, he took the degree of Doctor of Medicine at Glasgow in 1740, and, in the following year, entered into a contract with Mr. Thomas Hamilton, surgeon, on terms similar to those which had been formerly agreed on between him and Dr. Hunter. Dr. Cullen, during his residence at Hamilton, was twice elected magistrate of that place — first in the year 1738, and again in the year 1739. While in the magistracy, he appears to have taken an active share in the agricultural improvements beginning at that time to be introduced into the west of Scotland. He frequently attended the meetings of the trustees appointed for the improvement of the high-roads, and was much consulted by them on the different matters that came under their consideration. Some of his papers relative to these subjects exhibit singu- lar proofs of habits of arrangement, accuracy in transacting business, and a knowledge of rural and agricultural affairs which must have rendered his advice particularly acceptable. Agriculture was a study which continued at an after-period of his life to interest his attention; for we find him, when a lecturer on chemistry, endeavouring to throw light upon it by the aid of chemical science ; and in the year 1758, after finishing his course of chemical lecturer, he delivered, to a number of his friends and favourite pupils a short course of lectures on agri- culture, in which he explained the nature of soils, and the operation of different manures. Dr. Cullen, early in life, became attached to Miss Anna Johnstone, daughterof the Rev. Mr. Johnstone, minister of Kilbarchan, in the county of Renfrew. She was nearly of his own age; and he married her on the 13th of November, 1741. After his marriage Dr. Cullen continued for three years to practise as a physician at Hamilton; during which period, when not engaged in the more active and laborious duties of his profession, he devoted his time to the studies of chemistry, natural philosophy, and natural his- tory; nor is there any doubt but that at this time he was preparing and qualifying himself to teach those branches of science on which he very shortly after- wards became so eminent a lecturer. I litherto the ad- vantages held out by the Duke of I lamilton prevented ids seeking a more appropriate field for the display of his abilities; but after the death of the duke, which happened at the end of the year 1743, he was induced to transfer his residence to Glasgow, lie settled in that city in the end of the year 1744, or beginning of 1745, at which period Dr. Johnstone was professor of medicine in the university, and Dr. Hamilton was the professor of anatomy and botany, but neither of them gave lectures. Dr. Cullen, who soon perceived the possibility of establishing a medi- cal school in Glasgow similar to that which had been established in Edinburgh, made arrangements with Dr. Johnstone, the professor of medicine, to deliver, during the following winter, a course of lec- tures on the theory and practice of physic, in the university. This course lasted six months; and, in the following session of 1747, with the concurrence of Dr. Hamilton, the professor of botany, besides lecturing on the practice of physic, he gave lectures, in conjunction with Mr. John Garrick, the assist- ant of Dr. Hamilton, on materia medica and botany. Dr. Cullen in the physic class never read his lectures; in allusion to which practice, he observed, "Written lectures might be more correct in the diction and fluent in the style, but they would have taken up too much time that might be otherwise rendered useful. I shall be as correct as possible; but perhaps a fami- liar style will prove more agreeable than a formal one, and the delivery more fitted to command atten- tion." As the institution of a course of lectures on chemistry was essential to a regular medical school, Dr. Cullen proposed to the faculty of the university of Glasgow, that lectures should be given on that branch of science by himself, and Mr. John Garrick, brother of Robert Garrick, Esq., of Hamilton, who was at that time assistant to Dr. Hamilton, the professor of anatomy. These proposals having been approved, the lectures on chemistry were commenced by Mr. Garrick; but he being taken ill, the remain- ing part of the course was delivered by Dr. Cullen. In commencing his second course of chemistry, Dr. Cullen printed and distributed among his students, "The plan of a course of chemical lectures and ex- periments, directed chiefly to the improvement of arts and manufactures, to be given in the college of Glasgow during the session 1748." But besides these lectures, Dr. Cullen, in the summer of 1748, gave lectures in conjunction with Mr. Garrick on materia medica and botany. Of the lectures delivered on materia medica only a few fragments of notes have been preserved, and these are not sufficient to afford a precise idea of the general plan which he followed. The lectures on materia medica and botany were again delivered in 1749; but how long they were delivered after that period has not been ascertained. 1 In his lectures on botany Dr. Cullen followed the system of Linnaeus, and by so doing displayed no ordinary sagacity; for although the natural arrangements of Jussieu and Decandolle arc now chiefly taught in the universities of this country, yet the artificial classification of Linnams was the ladder by which botanists ascended securely to the generalizations of the natural system, and is still of great use in determining generic and specific distinc- tions. After Dr. Cullen discontinued his lectures on botany, he still pursued his botanical studies; as appears from a letter of a Danish physician, which contains the answer of Linnaeus to certain queries that had been referred to him by Dr. Cullen. Al- ready it must be obvious that Dr. Cullen, in devoting his attention so minutely to so many branches of science, displayed a mind of no ordinary activity and comprehensiveness. He seems, indeed, to have felt in its full force the observation of Cicero, that "all the sciences are connected, tendering to each other a mutual illustration and assistance." During the period that he lectured on chemistry in Glasgow, the celebrated Dr. Black became his pupil, and Dr. Cullen was not long in discovering the talents of his young student. Thus began a mutual confidence and friendship which did honour bull to the professor and his pupil, and was always mentioned by the latter with gratitude and respect. 1 Tlit Bee, vol. i. p. 7. WILLIAM CULLEN. an essay On the Construction and Operation of the Plough; composed apparently about the same period, and read before some public society, most probably the Philosophical Society in the college of Glasgow. The object of this essay was to explain the mechanical principles on which ploughs have been constructed, to find out what is the importance and effect of each part, and to ex- amine what variation each, or all of them, require according to the difference of soil in which they are employed. In the year 1752 Dr. Cullen's tunities of cultivating agriculture were increased bv his undertaking to manage and improve the farm of Parkhcad, situated about eight miles from Glas- gow, which he had purchased for his brother, Robert Cullen, Esq., who was at the time employed in a mercantile situation in the West Indies. But much as the attention of Dr. Cullen was devoted to it, it does not appear that he published anything theoretical or practical on agriculture; but he corresponded with Lord Kaimes very particularly on the subject, and the letters that transpired between them are well worthy of perusal. Dr. Cullen, about the end of the year 1749, was introduced to the Earl of Islay, afterwards the Duke of Argyle; and, according to the authority of Dr. Thomson, the introduction took place through the interest of Lord Kaimes, who made a request to that effect through Mr. Lind, the secretary to the duke. This appears from a letter addressed to Dr. Cullen by Mr. Martine, and which proceeds thus:- '"August, 1749. Mr. Lind, at Mr. Home's desire, talked very particularly about you to the Duke of Argyle; ami your friends here desire that you will wait on his grace upon his arrival at Glasgow, which will be to- morrow evening." We are furthermore informed that the more immediate cause of Dr. Cullen's being introduced to the Duke of Argyle at this time was to obtain his grace's consent and patronage to his suc- ceeding Dr. Johnstone as professor of medicine in the Glasgow university. A venerable member of the college of justice, who in his youth knew Dr. Cullen, and remembers him well, has favoured us with the following anecdote: — About this period the Duke of Argyle, being confined to his room in Roseneath Castle with swelled gums, sent for Dr. Cullen. His grace, who was fond of dabbling occasionally in medicine, suggested a fumigation of a particular kind, and described an instrument which he thought would be suited to administer it. Dr. Cullen, willing to humour his new patron, instantly set off for Glasgow, procured the instrument, which was made of tin, according to the fashion described, and sent it early next morning to Roseneath. The noble patient find- ing it adapted to the purpose required, ami feeling himself better after the fumigation, was much ] leased with the attention of his physician, in whose welfare he subsequently took considerable interest. The Duke of Argyle had himself been educated at the university of Glasgow, had male a distinguished figure there, and had cho>en the law as his profession. He afterwards studied law at Utrecht, but 011 re- turning to Scotland changed his determii adopted the military profession, and became one of the most accomplished politicians of his age. By the influence of this nobleman with the crow:.. 1 >r. Cullen was appointed to be the successor ol Dr. Johnstone in tiie university of Glasgow, and wx-. formally admitted as the professor ut n that university on the 2d of January, 1 75 1 . During the residence of 1 >r. Cullen in Gla-g v . 1 still devoted a c msideral le ] rtion of his t chemistry, more especially investigating ;'- ■' tion to the useful arts. lie ei to suggest various impr >vemei ing, and proposed an im] roved me: factureor purificatii in of 1 in precipitating the earthy i: the brine of sea-wat by which a salt is • ::■. 1 • . r ■ ;. '• par • 1 in the 1 r i r. '.ry ::. v v v ; : ' '■■■-> pro;ess being too expe: • ' r ; been br night ' iuhiect an 1 ;e . v. 40S WILLIAM CULLEN. appears never to have been published, although a copy of it was presented to the Board of Trustees for the Encouragement of Fisheries, Arts, and Manu- factures in Scotland, in the records of which institu- tion for June, 1755, it is mentioned that "three suits of table linen had been given as a present to Dr. William Cullen for his ingenious observations on the art of bleaching." From the period of his appointment to be professor of medicine in the university of Glasgow until the year 1 755» ^ r - Cullen, besides his lectures on chemis- try, delivered annually a course of lectures on the theory and practice of physic. He also projected at this period the design of publishing an edition of the works of Sydenham, with an account in Latin of his life and writings; but although he made some few preparations to commence this work, he very shortly abandoned the undertaking. Dr. Thomson informs us that his private practice at this time, although ex- tensive, was by no means lucrative, and as a consider- able portion of it lay in the country, he had but little time to pursue his scientific studies. These circum- stances seem to have induced some of his friends to propose his removing to Edinburgh. Lord Kaimes likewise wrote several letters to Dr. Cullen advising him to transfer his residence to Edinburgh; and in the year 1755, Dr. Plummer, the professor in the chair of chemistry, having suffered an attack of palsy, several candidates were put in nomination as his successor, among whom were Dr. Home, Dr. Black, and Dr. Cullen. Lord Kaimes in the mean- time exerted himself in canvassing on the behalf of Dr. Cullen; the Duke of Argyle employed the weight of his whole interest in his favour; and after the lapse of some months, Dr. Plummer still con- tinuing unable to lecture, the town-council appointed Dr. Cullen joint-professor of chemistry during the life of his colleague, with the succession in the event of his death. Dr. Plummer, however, did not survive long; he died in the July following, and then Dr. Cullen was elected sole professor of chemistry in the university of Edinburgh. The admission of Dr. Cullen into that university constitutes a memorable era in its history. Hitherto chemistry had been reckoned of little importance, and the chemical class was attended only by a very few students; but he soon rendered it a favourite study, and his class became more numerous every session. From the list of names kept by Dr. Cullen it appears that during his first course of lectures the number amounted only to seventeen; during thesecond course it rose to fifty-nine; and it went on gradually increasing so long as he continued to lecture. The greatest number that attended during anyone session was 145; "and it is curious to observe," says Dr. Thomson, "that several of those pupils who after- wards distinguished themselves by their acquirements or writings had attended three, four, five, or even six courses of these lectures on chemistry." Dr. Cullen's fame rests so much on his exertions in the field of medical science that few are aware how much the progress of chemical science has been indebted to him. In the History of Chemistry, written by the late cele- brated Dr. Thomson, professor of that science in Glasgow, we find the following just tribute to his memory: — "Dr. William Cullen, to whom medicine lies under deep obligations, and who afterwards raised the medical celebrity of the college of Edinburgh to so high a pitch, had the merit of first perceiving the importance of scientific chemistry, and the reputation which that man was likely to cam who should devote himself to the cultivation of it. Hitherto chemistry in Great Britain, and on the Continent also, was con- sidered as a mere appendage to medicine, and useful only so far as it contributed to the formation of new and useful remedies. This was the reason why it came to constitute an essential part of the education of every medical man, and why a physician was con- sidered as unfit for practice unless he was also a chemist. But Dr. Cullen viewed the science as far more important; as capable of throwing light on the constitution of bodies, and of improving and amend- ing those arts and manufactures that are most useful to man. I le resolved to devote himself to its culti- vation and improvement; and he would undoubtedly have derived celebrity from this science had not his fate led rather to the cultivation of medicine. But Dr. Cullen, as the true commencer of the study of scien- tific chemistry in Great Britain, claims a conspicuous place in this historical sketch." 1 Dr. Cullen's removal to Edinburgh was attended by a temporary pecuniary inconvenience; for no salary being attached to his chair in the university, his only means of supporting himself and family were derived from the fees of students, and such practice as he could command : under these circumstances he ap- pears to have undertaken a translation of Van Swieten's commentaries on Boerhaave, in which he expected the assistance of his former pupils, Dr. William Hunter and Dr. Black. But we have already seen that his class became more numerously attended every session; besides which, his practice also began to increase, so that, his prospects having brightened, he relinquished this undertaking. In addition to lecturing on chemistry, he now began to deliver lec- tures on clinical medicine in the Royal Infirmary. This benevolent institution was opened in the De- cember of 174 1 ) and soon afterwards Dr. John Rutherford, who was then professor of the practice of physic, proposed to explain, in clinical lectures, the nature and treatment of the cases admitted — a measure highly approved of by the enlightened policy of the managers, who, besides permitting students, on paying a small gratuity, to attend the hospital at large, appropriated two of its wards for the reception of the more remarkable cases which were destined, under the selection and management of one or more of the medical professors, to afford materials for this new and valuable mode of tuition. The privilege of delivering a course of clinical lectures 'was granted by the managers of the Royal Infirmary to Dr. Ruther- ford in the year 1748, and in the following year ex- tended to the other professors of medicine belonging to the university; none of whom, however, seem to have availed themselves of it, excepting Dr. Ruther- ford, until the year 1757, when Dr. Cullen undertook to deliver a course of such lectures, and was soon joined in the performance of that duty by Drs. White and Rutherford. Dr. Cullen soon obtained great reputation as a teacher of clinical medicine. "His lectures,"observes Dr. Thomson, "were distinguished by that simplicity, ingenuity, and comprehensiveness of view which marked at all times the philosophical turn of his mind; and I have been informed by several eminent medical men who had an opportunity of attending them, and more particularly by one who acted as his clinical clerk in 1 765, were delivered with that clearness and copiousness of illustration with which in his lectures he ever instructed and de- lighted his auditors. "- In the winter session of 1760 Dr. Alston, who was the professor of materia medica, died shortly after commencing his course of lectures for the season. It was well known that Dr. Cullen had already de- 1 The History of Chemistry, by Thomas Thomson, M.D., K.R.S. K., Professor of Chemistry in the University of Glasgow. l8jn. * Thomson's Life 0/ Cullen, vol. 1. WILLIAM CULLEN. 4CQ voted considerable attention to this branch of medical science, and that he had lectured upon it in the uni- versity of Glasgow; and the students of medicine therefore presented a petition soliciting him to lecture in the place of Dr. Alston. Dr. Cullen accordingly commenced a course of lectures on materia medica in the beginning of January, 1761. Some years after- wards a volume was published entitled Lectures on the Materia Medica, as delivered by William Cullen, M.D., Professor of Medicine in the University of Edinburgh. The work being published without his consent, Dr. Cullen applied to the Court of Chancery for an injunction to prohibit its sale, which was im- mediately granted. The physician who supplied the booksellers with the notes is on all hands admitted to have been influenced by no pecuniary or unworthy motive; but the professor objected to the work, com- plaining "that it was by no means sufficiently perfect to do him honour; that it had been unexpectedly undertaken, and necessarily executed in a great hurry; that it was still more imperfect from the inaccuracy of the gentleman who had taken the notes," &c. When, however, it was represented that a great many copies were already in circulation, Dr. Cullen was persuaded to allow the sale of the remaining copies on condition "that he should receive a share of the profits, and that the grosser errors in the work should be corrected by the addition of a supplement." Accordingly on these terms it was published, nor is it doing more than an act of justice to state that it contains all the information on materia medica which was known at that period, and may yet be consulted with advantage by the student. In consequence of his increasing infirmities and age, Dr. John Rutherford, the professor of the prac- tice of physic, resigned his chair in February, 1766, in favour of Dr. John Gregory, who had held for several years the professorship of physic in the col- lege of Aberdeen. When his intention of resigning became known, every effort was made by the friends of Dr. Cullen to procure for him this professorship, the duties of which he had, by his clinical labours in the infirmary, proved himself eminently qualified to discharge. The exertions of Dr. Cullen's friends, however, proved unavailing, and Dr. Gregory was duly appointed as the successor to Dr. Rutherford. In the April of the same year the chair of the theory of physic was vacated by the death of Dr. Whytt; but we are informed that Dr. Cullen was so much disgusted with the conduct of the patrons of the uni- versity, and with the treatment he had received in relation to the chair of the practice of physic, that he rather wished to retain the chair of chemistry than to be translated to that of the theory of medicine. I lis friends, however, earnestly urged him to take the chair vacated by the death of Dr. Whytt; and on this occasion he received the most flattering and gratifying testimony of the esteem entertained towards him, both by his fellow professors and the student-- of the university. 'Die professors came forward with a public address to him, wherein, after expressing their conviction that he was the most competent person to teach the theory of medicine, they added, that they '"thought it a duty they owed the town, the univer- sity, and the students of physic, and themselves, to request of him, in the most public and earnest manner, to resign the professorship of chemistry, and to offer himself to the honourable patr >ns of the university as a candidate for the profession of the theory of physic." The students also came forward and pre- sented an address to the lord-provost, magistrates, and town-council, wherein they boldly stated. "We are humbly of opinion that the reputation of the uni- versity and magistrates, the good of the city, and our improvement will all, in an eminent manner, Ik- con- sulted by engaging Dr. Gregory to relinquish the pro- fessorship of the practice for that of the theory of medicine, by appointing Dr. Cullen, present professor of chemistry, to the practical chair, and by electing Dr. Black professor of chemistry." At length Dr. Cullen consented to Income a can- didate for the chair of Dr. Whytt, and was elected professor of the institute- or theory of medicine, on the 1st of November, 1766; and on the same day, his friend and former pupil, Dr. Black, was elected in his place professor of chemistry. The propo-al in the address of the students respecting Dr. Cullen's lectur- ing on the practice of medicine, being, both by the profe.-sors and succeeding students, urged on the consideration of the patrons of the university, it was agreed that Dr. Cullen should be permitted to lecture on that subject, and accordingly, with Dr. Gregory's permission, Dr. Cullen delivered a course of lectures in the summer of 176S; and during the remainder of Dr. Gregory's life, Drs. Cullen and Gregory con- tinued to give alternate courses on the theory and practice of physic. The death of Dr. Gregory, how- ever, took place on the 10th of February, 1773, and Dr. Cullen was immediately appointed sole \ rofessor of the practice of physic. While Dr. Cullen held the professorship of the institutes of medicine, he published heads of lectures for the use of students in the university; which were translated into French, German, and Italian; but he went no further than physiology. After suc- ceeding to the chair of the practice of physic, he published his nosology, entitled Synopsis Nosologic Melhodica:. It appeared in two Svo volumes, which were afterwards, in 1780, much improved. In this valuable work he inserted in the first volume ab- stracts of the nosological systems of Sauvages, I.in- na_nis, V'ogel, and .Sagar; — and in the second his own method of arrangement. His classification and definitions of disease have done much to systema- tize and facilitate the acquirement of medical know- ledge; — not but that in some instances he may have placed a disease under an improper head, and in other- given definitions that are very impelled ; t^r these are defects which considering the wide held he had to explore, might reasonably have been e\i ected. Although it may be only an approximation to a per- fect system, it is desirable to classify, as far as we are- able, the facts which constitute the groundwork of every science; otherwise they must be scattered over a wide surface, or huddled together in a confused heap — the rud:s indic;estaque moles of the a poet. The definitions contained in this .*• are not mere scholastic and unnecessary appei to medical science; so far from this, they e: the leading and characteristic signs or features o! certain diseases; and although it is true tl practitioner, without recollecting tl : s ol Dr. Cullen, may recognize the very same syi he has described, and refer 1 1 "'1 <-' " ease, still ti;;s does m >t prove that t!: ' its Cullen are the less useful to tin -e v. ho I.:k- : much practice, and wl . . ■'■ ' ;■ ■lit pass o\( those defi:-.:::< : -. ' • he rs of ■ -.--.■ .;' i: in em- irate th ' ■-<•: ii-tir.ct ■ seen had. symptoms to which, tention is called. The \ every science know the r pupils to arr everv sul Meet, in a 1 : effecting t Cullen has stantly use i find that, evei st 11 lv ■ : the X .V t of D !. •' ■ i; is -til! o ts of tile ;:::.-•■ r.-ity, "•• 1 at ; re- | sent require them to rej mtiuns of hsease 4io WILLIAM CULLEN. given by Dr. Cullen verbatim, still they cannot express themselves, nor find in any other nosological work, the method or manner of describing the characteristic symptoms of disease so concisely and correctly given as in His Nosology. Accordingly, notwithstanding the march of medical knowledge, and notwithstand- ing the Nosology of Dr. Cullen was published three quarters of a century ago, it is still the text-book of the most distinguished medical schools in Europe, and some years ago an improved edition of it was edited by the learned translator of Alagendie, Dr. Milligan. When Dr. Cullen succeeded to the chair of the practice of physic, the doctrines of Boerhaave were in full dominion; but these Dr. Cullen felt him- self justified in relinquishing, although his doing so made him appear guilty of little less than heresy in the eyes of his professional contemporaries. The first edition of Dr. Cullen's Practice of Physic was published in 1775; — it spread rapidly through Europe, and is said to have produced the author about ^"3000 sterling — a very considerable sum in those days. Pinel and Bosquillon published several translations of it in Paris; and it also appeared translated into German, Italian, and Latin. The system of medicine explained and advocated by Dr. Cullen in his lectures and in his work, The First Lines of the Practice of Physic, is raised on the found- ation which had previously been laid by Hoffman, who pointed out more clearly than any of his pre- decessors, the extensive and powerful influence of the nervous system in producing and modifying the dis- eases to which the human body is liable. Although the study of pathology does not appear to have been so zealously pursued at that period as it is at present, yet Dr. Cullen, in his course of clinical instruction, always dwelt on the importance of inspecting the bodies of those who died under his treatment, and connecting the post-mortem morbid appearances with the symptoms that had been exhibited during life. In addressing a letter to Dr. Balfour Russel, the author of the best work on the plague published in this country, he observes, "You will not find it impossible to separate practice from theory alto- gether; and therefore if you have a mind to begin with the theory, I have no objection. I think a systematic study of the pathology and mtfhodus vied- endi will be necessary previous to the practice, and you may always have in view a system of the whole of physic." But notwithstanding this, it must be admitted that Dr. Cullen was too fond of theorizing, and like all other philosophers who are anxious to frame a particular system, he often commenced establishing his superstructure before having accumu- lated a sufficient number of facts to give it a secure foundation. I Ience the works of Bonetus, Morgagni, and Lieutaud contain more pathological knowledge than those published at a later date by Dr. Cullen. Dr. Cullen, in discharging his duties as a pro- fessor both in Glasgow and Edinburgh, took very great pains in the instruction of his students; perhaps he is entitled to the credit of having taken a deeper and more sincere interest in their progress than any professor with whose history we are acquainted. Dr. James Anderson, who was his pupil and friend, bears the most unequivocal testimony to his zeal as a public teacher. " For more than thirty years, "says he, "that the writer of this article has been honoured with hi, acquaintance, he has had access to know that Dr. Cullen was in general employed from five to six hours every day in visiting his patients, and pre- scribing for those at a distance who consulted him in writing; and that, during the session of the college, which, in Edinburgh, la=>ts from five to six month.-,, he delivered two public lectures of an hour each, sometimes four lectures a day, during five days of the week; and towards the end of the session, that his students might lose no part of his course, he usually, for a month or six weeks together, delivered lectures six days every week; yet, during all that time, if you chanced to fall in with him in public or in private, you never perceived him either embar- rassed or seemingly in a hurry; but at all times he was easy and cheerful, and sociably inclined; and in a private party of whist, for sixpence a game, he could be as keenly engaged for an hour before supper, as if he had no other employment to mind, and would be as much interested in it as if he had ;£iooo depending on the game." 1 Dr. Anderson further informs us that "the general conduct of Dr. Cullen to his students was this; — with all such as he observed to be attentive and diligent he formed an early acquaintance, by inviting them by twos, by threes, or by fours, at a time, to sup with him; con- versing with them on these occasions with the most engaging ease, and freely entering with them on the subject of their studies, their amusements, their dif- ficulties, their hopes, and future prospects. In this way he usually invited the whole of his numerous class, till he made himself acquainted with their abilities, their private characters, and their objects of pursuit. Those among them whom he found most assiduous, best disposed, or the most friendless, he invited most frequently, until an intimacy was gra- dually formed which proved highly beneficial to them. Their doubts with regard to their objects of study he listened to with attention, and solved with the most obliging condescension. His library, which consisted of an excellent assortment of the best books, especially on medical subjects, was at all times open for their accommodation, and his advice in every case of difficulty to them, they always had it in their power most readily to obtain. From his general acquaint- ance among the students, and the friendly habits he was on with many of them, he found no difficulty in discovering those among them who were rather in hampered circumstances, without being obliged to hurt their delicacy in any degree. He often found out some polite excuse for refusing to take payment for a first course, and never was at a loss for one to an after-course. Before they could have an oppor- tunity of applying for a ticket, he would lead the conversation to some subject that occurred in the course of his lectures, and as his lectures were never put in writing by himself, he would sometimes beg the favour to see their notes, if he knew they had been taken with attention, under a pretext of assist- ing his memory. Sometimes he would express a wish to have their opinion on a particular part of his course, and presented them with a ticket for that purpose, and sometimes he refused to take payment under the pretext that they had not received his full course in the preceding year, sonic part of it having been necessarily omitted for want of time, which he meant to include in this course. These were the particular devices he adopted with individuals to whom economy was necessary, and it was a general rule witli him never to take money from any student lor more than two courses of the same set of lectures, permitting him to attend these lectures for as many years longer as he pleased, gratis. He introduced another generous principle into the university, which ought not to be passed over in silence. Before he came to Edinburgh, it was the custom for medical professors to accept of fees for medical assistance when wanted, even from medical students Ihem- 1 The Dec, or Literary Intelligencer, vol. WILLIAM CULLEN. 4tl solves, who were perhaps attending the professor's own lectures at the time; but Dr. Cullen would never take fees as a physician from any student at the university, although he attended them when called in with the same assiduity and care as if they had been persons of the first rank, who paid him most liberally. This gradually induced others to adopt a similar practice; so that it has now become a general rule at this university for medical professors to decline taking any fees when their assistance is necessary for a student." 1 Dr. Aiken, who was also a pupil of Dr. Cullen, bears similar testimony to the generous conduct manifested by him to his students. "He was cor- dially attentive," says he, "to their interests; ad- mitted them freely to his house; conversed with them on the most familiar terms; solved their doubts and difficulties; gave them the use of his library; and, in every respect, treated them with the respect of a friend, and the regard of a parent." 2 Nor was the kind interest which Dr. Cullen took in the pursuits of young persons confined to his students alone. Mr. Dugald Stewart informed Dr. Thomson, that during a slight indisposition which confined him for some time to his room, when a boy of fourteen or fifteen years of age, he was attended by Dr. Cullen. In recommending to his patient a little relaxation from his studies, and suggesting some light reading, the doctor inquired whether he had ever read the History of Don Quixote. On being answered in the negative, he turned quickly round to Mr. Stewart's father, and desired that the book should be imme- diately procured. In his subsequent visits to his patient, Dr. Cullen never failed to examine him on the progress he had made in reading the humorous story of the great pattern of chivalry, and to talk over with him every successive incident, scene, and character in that history. In mentioning these particulars, Mr. Stewart remarked that he never could look back on that intercourse without feeling surprise at the minute accuracy with which Dr. Cullen remembered every passage in the life of Don Quixote, and the lively manner in which he sym- pathized with him in the pleasure he derived from the first perusal of that entertaining romance. In what degree of estimation Mr. Stewart continued to hold that work may be seen by the inimitable char- acter which he has given of it in his dissertation on the progress of metaphysical, ethical, and political philosophy. 3 Dr. Cullen, after having been elected professor of the practice of medicine, devoted his time entirely to his duties as a public lecturer, and to his profession; for his fame having extended, his private practice became very considerable. Already we have ob- served that he had a large family; and about this time, having become acquainted with the celebrated John Drown, a sketch of whose life we have already- given in this Biographical Dictionary, he engaged him to live in his family as the preceptor of his chil- dren, and also as an assistant at his lectures, the substance of which Brown repeated and expounded in the evening to his students; for which purpose the manuscript notes of the morning lectures were generally intrusted to him. It is well known that the habits of John Brown were extremely irregular. After having been his most favourite pupil, he be- came the most intimate of Dr. Cullen's friends; but three or four years afterwards a quarrel took place between them, after which they ever regarded each olher with feelings of the most determined hostility. I T.'i ."'■•. ■■'-;.:■•-.!'■. iKi.-Wgwcr, vol. i. y\ . 4 S, <.,. - • •■•:•,•...//.'■■■. -,-.*.;•■. vol. iii. p. z". 3 i'homijr.'s Lj'c of Dr. C. .. ■/>, v . i, p. i^. John Brown soon l>ecamc the founder and champion of a system of medicine opposed to that of Dr. Cullen; and the palxstra where the opponents and advocates of both theories met, and where their disputations were carried on with the greatest vigour, was the hall of the medical society. '1 he doctrines of Cullen had there, some years previously, triumphed over those of Boerhaave; but they in their turn were now destined to receive a shock from the zealous advocates of the new theory, which was warmly espoused by many, both at home and abroad. Dr. Cullen continued to deliver his lectures until within a few months of his death, when, feeling him- self subdued by the infirmities of age, he was in- duced to resign his professorship; "but for some years before his death," observes Dr. James Ander- son, "his friends perceived a sensible decline of that ardour and energy of mind which characterized him at a former period. Strangers, who had never seen him before, could not be sensible of this change; nor did any marked decline in him strike them, for his natural vivacity still was such as might pass in general as the unabated vigour of one in the prime of life." He resigned his professorship in the end of December, 1789, and on this occasion received many honourable testimonies of regard from the different public societies in Ldinburgh. The lord- provost, magistrates, and town -council presented him with an elegant piece of silver plate with a suitable inscription, in acknowledgment of the ser- vices he had rendered to the university and to the community. The senatus academicus of the uni- versity, the medical society, the physical society, and many other scientific and literary societies, voted addresses to him, expressive of the high sense enter- tained of his abilities and services. The physical society of America also forwarded to him a similar address, and concluded by expressing the same wish which had been likewise einlx>died in the other addresses. It thus concludes: — "And, finally, we express our most cordial wishes that the evening of your days may be crowned with as great an exemp- tion from pain and langour as an advanced state o( life admits of, and with all the tranquillity of mind which a consciousness of diffusive benevolence to men and active worth aspires." The several deputa- tions from these public bodies were received by his son Henry, who replied to them by acknowledging the satisfaction which they gave to his father, and the regret he felt that, in consequence of his ill state of health, he was unable to meet them and ex] his sentiments in person to them. 4 Dr. Cullen did not long survive his resignal the professorship; he lingered a few weeks, and died on the 5th of February, 1790, in the eightieth year of his age. His funeral was a private one, and took place on the following Wednesday, the loth <>i February; when his remains, attended by a select number of friends, were interred in hi- 1 in the churchvard of Kirk Newton, r. of Ormiston Hill, in the neighboarh 1 of Ldin- burgh. Of the character of Dr. Cullen in the more n tire 1 circle of private life v. having been preserved illustrative ■ : of his' habits, disposition, ord V* < have been informed, bv one w! • hii . well, that he ha 1 110 >Jnse He used to put lai which he and hi* wife went v. wanted money. He and his w .. ai i manv wdio re'col h.i\ testimony to J- 4 I2 ALEXANDER CUNNINGHAM. the delightful evenings they always spent whenever they visited them. Dr. Cullen's external appearance, says his friend Dr. Anderson, though striking and not unpleasing, was not elegant. His countenance was expressive, and his eye, in particular, remark- ably lively, and at times wonderfully expressive. In his person he was tall and thin, stooping very much about the shoulders. When he walked he had a contemplative look, and did not seem much to re- gard the objects around him. 1 It remains only for us to add, that the doctrines promulgated by Dr. Cullen, which have had so great an influence on medical science, are now keenly contested ; but whether in after-years they stand or fall, all parties must unite in paying a just tribute of admiration to the genius and acquirements of a man who was certainly an ornament to the age in which he lived. CUNNINGHAM, Alexander, fifth Earl of Glencairn, was the son and successor of William, the fourth earl, and the seventeenth in descent from the founder of his family, Warnebald de Cunningham, a Norman settler under Hughde Moreville, Constable of Scotland, who died in 1162. There is hardly any patriotic name in Scottish history entitled to more of the credit of a firm and zealous pursuit of liberty, than Alexander, Earl of Glencairn. His father, having been one of the Scottish nobles taken prisoner at Solway Moss, was gained over in England to the interest of the Refor- mation, which he undertook to advance in his own country. The subject of this memoir was therefore introduced, at an early period, into the political con- vulsions which took place on account of religion and the English alliance, during the minority of Queen Mary. He succeeded his father in 1547, and on the return of John Knox in 1554 was one of those who openly resorted to hear him preach. The re- former was afterwards received by the earl at his house of Finlayston, where the sacrament of the Lord's supper was dispensed, according to the forms of the Church of Geneva, to his lordship, his tenantry, and friends. When Knox was summoned to appear before a Romish tribunal, on a charge of preaching heretical doctrine, he was recommended by the earl and others to write a letter of remonstrance to the queen-regent, which Glencairn was so bold as to deliver into her own hands. It was of this letter that the queen said, in handing it afterwards to Archbishop Beaton, "Please you, my lord, to read a pasquil." The Earl of Clencairn was one of those eminent persons who, in 1557, associated themselves in a covenant, fur the purpose of promoting the establishment of the reformed religion in Scotland. Tins body has received in history the well-known title of '"Lords of the Congregation." In all the subsequent struggles witli existing authority, Glen- cairn took an active and prominent part. Being deputed, in 1 5 =;S, along with his relative, Sir Hugh Campbell of Loudoun, to remonstrate with the queen again.it her intended prosecution of the preachers, she answered, that "in spite of all they could do, these men should be banished, although they preached as soundly as ever did St. Paul." The earl and Sir Hugh then reminded her of a former promise to a different effect ; to which she answered, that "the promises of princes were no further to be urged upon tiiem for performance than it stood to their con- venience." The two deputies then informed her, that "if these were her sentiments, they would no longer be her subjects ;" which staggered her so much 1 T/ie Bee, or Literary Intelligencer, vol. i. p. 16O. that she said she would advise. In May, 1559, when the reformers drawn together at Perth found it necessary to protect themselves by force of arms from the designs of this princess, letters were sent into Ayrshire, as into other parts of Scotland, de- siring all the faithful to march to that town, in order to defend the good cause. The reformers of Ayr- shire met at the kirk of Craigie, where, on some Objections being started, the Earl of Glencairn "in zeal burst forth in these words, 'Let every man serve his conscience. I will, by God's grace, see my brethren in St. Johnston : yea, albeit never a man shall accompany me; I will go, if it were but with a pick [mattock] over my shoulder ; for I had rather die with that company than live after them.'" Ac- cordingly, although the queen-regent planted guards on all the rivers in Stirlingshire to prevent his approach, he came to Perth in an incredibly short space of time, with 1200 horse and 1300 foot, having marched night and day in order to arrive in time. The appearance of so determined a leader, with so large a force, subdued the regent to terms, and might be said to have sa\ed the cause from utter destruc- tion. Besides serving the reformers with his sword and feudal influence, he wielded the pen in the same cause. Knox has preserved, in his History of llie Reformation, a clever pasquinade by the earl upon a shameless adherent of the old religion — the hermit of Loretto, near Musselburgh. After he had seen the triumph of the Protestant faith in 1559-60, he was nominated a member of Queen Mary's privy-council. Zeal for the same faith afterwards induced him to join in the insurrection raised against the queen's authority by the Earl of Murray. After her mar- riage to Bothwell, he was one of the most active of the associated lords by whom she was dethroned. At Carberry, where he had an important command, when the French ambassador came from the queen, promising them forgiveness if they would disperse, he answered, with his characteristic spirit, that "they came not to ask pardon for any offence they had done, but to grant pardon to those who had offended." After the queen had been consigned to Lochlevcn, he entered her chapel at 1 [olyrood House with his domestics, and destroyed the whole of the images and other furniture. This he did from the impulse of his own mind, and without consulting any of his friends. In the whole of the subsequent proceedings for establishing the Protestant cause under a regency, he took a zealous part. His lord- ship died in 1574, and was succeeded by his son William, the sixth earl. CUNNINGHAM, Alexander. This learned scholar and critic, the exact date of whose birth is so uncertain that we can only suppose it to have been somewhere between 1650 and 1660, was the son of John Cunningham, minister of Cumnock in Ayrshire, and proprietor of the small estate of Block in the same count}-. At what place he was educated is equally uncertain, and the first situation we hear of him as holding, was that of tutor to Lord George Douglas, younger son of the first Duke of Queens- berry. It was probably through the influence of this noble family that Alexander Cunningham was appointed professor of the civil law in the university ot Edinburgh, near the end of the seventeenth cen- tury. His tenure of office, however, was not per- manent, but through no fault of his own. The Duke of Queensberry, who had been commissioner of Queen .Anne in the establishment of the union, died, and the chair which Cunningham occupied, being probably a royal professorship, was ignored by the Edinburgh magistrates, who considered themselves ALEXANDER CUNNINGHAM. 4'3 as the only patrons of the university. It was also a period when every class in Scotland was especially susceptible about the national independence, ami disposed to watch their own corporate privileges with a jealous eye. Without recognizing, therefore, the appointment of Cunningham, the magistrates appointed a professor of civil law chosen by them- selves, in 1 710, after the other had nominally at least held the office during the twelve previous years. It is supposed by his talented biographer, Dr. Irving, that Cunningham, from his superior know- ledge of philology and the civil law, must have completed his course of academical study, not in Scotland, where these departments of learning were not especially cultivated, but at Leyden or Utrecht, the chief schools of the Scottish jurisconsults and classical scholars of that age. This supposition is made the more probable from Cunningham's choice of his future home. Devoted exclusively to the pur- suit of learning, he adopted Holland for his country, and settled himself for life at the Hague; and as from his small patrimonial estate of Block, and a pension from the Queensberry family, he was in easy cir- cumstances, he was enabled to pursue his peaceful occupations without interruption, and acquire high reputation as a classical scholar. The justice of this character was afterwards confirmed by his edition of Horace, which appeared in 1721. The notes of this edition are brief, and chiefly refer to the various readings of the text; but it appears to have been intended merely as the precursor of a larger work of the same kind, illustrated with fuller annotations, which, however, was never published. Hut accom- panying his edition of Horace, was a volume, chiefly consisting of animadversions upon the notes and alterations which Bentley had made upon the Roman poet. That great English Aristarchus of classical literature had published an edition of Horace ten years earlier, in which his philological acuteness and want of poetical perception were equally conspicuous, so that in his emendations he too often sacrificed the beauty of the idea to the fancied incorrectness of a word, and by his proposed reading converted a beautifully-imaginative picture into dull common- place prose. It was to redeem the great ornament of the Augustan period of Roman poetry from such unwarrantable liberties that Cunningham produced this separate volume, in which lie successively rescued Horace from the strange readings with which the English critic had disfigured his verses. It was not, however, to be supposed that "slashing Bentley," who regarded his own emendations upon a Creek or Latin text as infallible, would brook such contradic- tions with patience, and he must have been stiii more highly incensed to find that the learned world were acknowledging the justice of Cunningham's corrections, and declaring that the English scholar had at last met with his match. The learned Scot was now recognized and proclaimed as the most able of ISentley's critical antagonists. After passing the uneventful life of a student, in which his existence was chiefly known, and his worth recognized by his writings, Cunningham died in the year 1730. The publications that bear his name are the following: Alexandri Cunninghamii AnimadverMor.es in Richardi Bentleii \<>ta-> ct Emendationes ad O. Iloratium Placcum. HagaeComitum, apudThomam Johnsonium, 1721, Svo. Q. Horatii Flacci Poemata. Ex antiquis codd. et certis observationibus emendavit, variasque scrip- torum et impressorum lectioncs adjecit Alexander Cunninghamius. Hagae Comiium, a; ■.: 1 Thomam Johnsonium, 172 1, Svo. P. Virgillii Maronis Bucolica, Ceorgica, et Aencis, ex recensione Alexandri Cunninghamii Scoti, cujus emendationes subjiciuntur. Edinburgh apud G. Hamilton et J. Balfour, 1743, 8vo. I'haedri Augusti Libert 1 Kabularum Aesopiarum libri quinque, ex emendatione Alexandri Cunning- hamii Scoti. Accedunt 1'ubhi Syri, ct aliorum vcterum Sententiae. Edinburgi, apud G. Hamilton et J. Balfour, Academiae Typographos, 1757, Svo. Besides these works, Cunningham had contem- plated several which he did not live to finish. i sides his larger edition of Horace, he had employed himself for many years upon a critical edition of the Pandects, of which large expectations were formed, and which, had it been finished, would have been the largest and most important of his publications. He had also made preparations for a work on the evidences of the Christian religion, which, however, he did not live to execute. His library, which was catalogued for sale after his death, was both curious and valuable, and especially abounded in the depart- ments of philology and jurisprudence. To this scanty notice we can only add, that Cunningham appears to have been as famed for his skill in chess- playing as he was in scholarship and criticism. He was indeed reckoned, according to the testimony of the historian Wodrow, the best chess-player ;:. Europe. CUNNINGHAM, Alexander. This learned scholar and historian has, from identity of name, been often confounded with the subject of the pre- ceding notice. He was a son of Alexander Cun- ningham, minister of Ettrick in Selkirkshire, but at what date he was born we are unable to ascertain. At first he was educated at Selkirk school, but being destined for the church, his studies were continued in Holland, as was the custom with Scottish theologi- cal students during the latter part of the sevenl century. He was also employed as a travelling tutor both in the Argyle and Newcastle fan and having studied the law of England, was distin- guished as a chamber-counsel, but never [ leaded n the bar. To these few particulars it may be added, that he travelled on the Continent as tutor with James. afterwards Earl of Hyndford, and the Hon. \\ Carmichael, afterwards solicitor-general : r Scotland; that they passed two winters at Utrecht and Pran- eker between the years 1692 and 1695; n had visited Rome in 1600 or the beginning of 1700. In these professional tours he aiso collected a con- siderable number of books, and was learned and curious i:i their select; »n. It al> 1 rq j ear- I such a life of travel and secular studies, he had doned his original purpose of devoting hi ministry, as no further mention i> m ide ot : . Alter his engagements as a travelling tutor were ended, AlexanderCunningham, in 1701.W; ■■ ye in a different capacity, being sent to i :.. • by King William, to conduct a negociation t r.i rr.irg t! trade between Prar.ce and Scotland. I ostensil f his mi.-si of a different kind were com to have furnished his royal n '■ count of the military ] re] arati n> at ;: in Prance— ir.tel! Wiiliai . disc of S tland. In 1703 r. ] Han iver. v hi re ]-..■ wa- bvthe el .(,•.!. 1 ' the vita! imi : ■ ' - Cunr.ir.J'.am. v hich v 4H ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. cided Whig. Daring the reign of George I. he was appointed minister to the state of Venice, and held that office from 1715 to 1720. His residence during the latter part of his life appears to have been London, but at what period he died we are unable to discover. We only know that he was living in 1735, from an intimation that in that year the Earl of Ilyndford visited him in London. It is probable that, notwithstanding the learning and active life of Cunningham, and the important political events with which he was connected, he might have passed away without remembrance, had it not been for a large work in MS. written in Latin, which long after his death came into the possession of Dr. Hollingbery, archdeacon of Chichester, whose family was nearly connected with the deceased. This was The History of Great Britain, from the Revolution of 168S to the Accession of George I. Finding that it contained "many curious anecdotes and facts which have escaped other historians, and threw new light on several important transactions in this kingdom," the archdeacon resolved to publish it; not, however, in the original Latin, which would have found very few readers, but translated into English. Being unable, however, from ill health to accomplish such a task, he delegated it to Dr. Thomson, author of the continua- tion of Watson's History of Spain, by whom a spirited translation of Cunningham's history was published in two volumes 4to in London in 1787. In the intro- duction to the publication Dr. Thomson stated, "It may be necessary, in announcing the work now offered to the public, to premise that it is neither a republi- cation, nor a mere compilation of facts; that it is not addressed merely, though it certainly be in part, to a passion for anecdotes and antiquities; and that it is not dictated by a spirit of controversy. It is the production of a man who, having lived long on the stage, and conversed with the principal actors in public life, is animated by the recent scenes which he had seen, and in some of which he himself had acted a part. It contains facts that have passed un- observed by other historians; some, though not new when considered separately, are selected, disposed, and described with a skill which bestows on them all the grace of novelty; and the whole of them, whether new or old, are united by a principle of connection into one interesting view, which makes an impres- sion on the mind of something that is uniform and entire." The readers of the end of the last century bore witness to the truth of this eulogium, by the relish with which they perused the work, and the popularity into which they raised it; and although, with those of the present day, Cunningham's History of Great Britain, from lite Revolution of 1688 to the Accession of George /., is now little known, this is the less to be regretted, as the information it conveys has been absorbed into the histories of more recent origin. It is much that such a work can so survive, and be useful even when its individuality is forgot. CUNNINGHAM, Allan. This distinguished poet entered the world under those lowly circum- stances, and was educated under those disadvantages, which have so signally characterized the history of the best of our Scottish bards. He was born at Ulackwood, in Dumfriesshire, in 1785, and was the fourth son of his parents, who were persons in the humblest ranks of life. One circumstance, however, connected with his ancestry must have gratified the Tory and feudal predilections of Allan Cunningham; for his family had been of wealth and worship, until one of his forefathers lost the patrimonial estate by siding with Montrose during the wars of the Com- monwealth. A more useful circumstance for his future career was his father's love of Scottish anti- quarianism, which induced him to hoard up every tale, ballad, and legend connected with his native country — a love which Allan quickly acquired and successfully prosecuted. Like the children of the Scottish peasantry, he was sent to school at a very early age; but he does not seem to have been par- ticularly fortunate in the two teachers under whom he was successively trained, for they were stern Came- ronians; and it was probably under their scrupulous and over-strict discipline that he acquired that ten- dency to laugh at religious ascetism which so often breaks out in his writings. He was removed from this undesirable tuition at the tender age of eleven, and bound apprentice to a stone-mason; but he still could enjoy the benefit of his father's instructions, whom he describes as possessing "a warm heart, lively fancy, benevolent humour, and pleasant happy wit." Another source of training which the young apprentice enjoyed was the "trystes"and "rockings" so prevalent in his day — rural meetings, in which the mind of Burns himself was prepared for the high office of being the national poet of Scotland. The shadows of these delightful "ploys" still linger in Nithsdale and some of the more remote districts of Ayrshire; and it is pleasing to recall them to memory, for the sake of those great minds they nursed, before they have passed away for ever. They were com- plete trials of festivity and wit, where to sing a good song, tell a good story, or devise a happy impromptu, was the great aim of the lads and lasses assembled from miles around to the peat fire of a kitchen hearth, and where the corypheus of the joyful meeting was the "long-remembered beggar" of the district — one who possessed more songs and tales than all the rest of the country besides, and who, on account of the treasures of this nature which he freely imparted, was honoured as a public benefactor, and preferred to the best seat in the circle, instead of being regarded as a public burden. But the schoolmaster and the magistrate are now abroad ; and while the rockings are fast disappearing, the Edie Ochiltree who in- spired them is dying in the alms-house. May they be succeeded in this age of improving change by better schools and still more rational amusements ! While the youth of Allan Cunningham was trained under this tuition, he appears also to have been a careful reader of every book that came within his reach. This is evident from the multifarious know- ledge which his earliest productions betokened. He had also commenced the writing of poetry at a very early period, having been inspired by the numerous songs and ballads with which the poetical district of Nithsdale is stored. When about the age of eighteen he seems to have been seized with an earnest desire to visit the Ettrick Shepherd, at that time famed as a poet, but whose early chances of such distinction had scarcely equalled his own; and forth accordingly he set off in this his first pilgrimage of hero-worship, accompanied by an elder brother. The meeting Hogg has fully described in his Reminiscences oj former Days; and he particularizes Allan as "a dark ungainly youth of about eighteen, with a boardly frame for his age, and strongly marked manly features — the very model of Burns, and exactly such a man." The stripling poet, who stood at a bashful distance, was introduced to the Shepherd by his brother, who added, "You will be so kind as excuse this intrusion of ours on your solitude; for, in truth, I could get no peace either night or day with Allan till I con- sented to come and see you." "I then stepped down the hill," continues Hogg, "to where Allan Cunningham still stood, with his weather-beaten cheek toward me, and seizing his hard brawny hand, ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 415 I gave it a hearty shake, saying something as kind as I was able, and, at the same time, I am sure, as stupid as it possibly could be. From that moment we were friends, for Allan has none of the proverbial Scottish caution about him; he is all heart together, without reserve either of expression or manner: you at once see the unaffected benevolence, warmth of feeling, and firm independence of a man conscious of his own rectitude and mental energies. Young as he was, I had heard of his name, although slightly, and I think seen two or three of his juvenile pieces. . . . . I had a small bothy upon the hill, in which I took my breakfast and dinner on wet days, and rested myself. It was so small that we had to walk in on all-fours, and when we were in we could not get up our heads any way but in a sitting posture. It was exactly my own length, and on the one side I had a bed of rushes, which served likewise as a seat. On this we all three sat down, and there we spent the whole afternoon; and, I am sure, a happier group of three never met on the hill of Queensberry. Allan brightened up prodigiously after he got into the dark bothy, repeating all his early pieces of poetry and part of his brother's to me. . . . From that day forward I failed not to improve my acquaintance with the Cunninghams. I visited them several times at Dalswinton, and never missed an opportunity of meeting with Allan when it was in my power to do so. I was astonished at the luxuriousness of his fancy. It was boundless; but it was the luxury of a rich garden overrun with rampant weeds. lie was likewise then a great mannerist in expression, and no man could mistake his verses for those of any other man. I remember seeing some imitations of Ossian by him, which I thought exceedingly good; and it struck me that that style of composition was pecu- liarly fitted for his vast and fervent imagination." Such is the interesting sketch which Hogg has given us of the early life and character of a brother poet and congenial spirit. The full season at length arrived when Allan Cunningham was to burst from his obscurity. Cromek, to the full as enthusiastic an admirer of Scottish poetry as himself, was collecting his well-known relics; and in the course of his quest young Cunningham was pointed out as one who could aid him in the work. Allan gladiy assented to the task of gathering and preserving these old national treasures, and in due time presented to the zealous antiquary a choice collection of apparently old solids and ballads, which were inserted in the Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Son^, published in 1S10. But the best of these, and especially the "Mermaid of Galloway," were the production of Cunningham's own pen. This Hogg at once discovered as soon as the collection appeared, and he was zealous in proclaiming to all his literary friends that "Allan Cunningham was the author of all that was beautiful in the work." He communicated his convictions also to Sir Walter Scott, who was of the same opinion, and expressed his fervent wish that such a valuable an 1 original young man were fairly out of Cromek's hands. Resolved that the world should know to whom it was really indebted for so much fine poetry, Hogg next wrotea critique upon Cromek's publication, which he sent to the Edinburgh A'. :.•.-..• but although Jeffrey was aware of the ruse which Cunningham had practised, he 'lid not think it worthy of exposure. In this strange literary escapade the poet scarcely appears to merit the title of '"honest Allan," which Sir Waiter Scott subsequently bestowed upon him, and rather to deserve the doubtful place held by such writers as Chatterton, Ireland, and Macpherson. It must, however, be observed in ex- tenuation, that Cunningham, by passing off his own productions as remains of ancient Scottish song, compromised no venerated names, as the others had done. He gave them only as anonymous verses, to which neither date nor author could l>e assigned. In the same year that Cromek's Ranatns were published (1 Slot, Allan Cunningham abandoned his humble and unhealthy occupation, and repaired to London, which was thenceforth to be hi, home. He- had reached the age of twenty-five, was devoted heart and soul to intellectual labour, and felt within him- self the capacity of achieving something higher than squaring stones and erecting country cottages. On settling in London he addressed himself to the duties of a literary adventurer with energy and succ that his pen was seldom idle; and among the journals to which he was a contributor may be mentioned the Literary Gazette, the Loudon Magazine, and the Athemrum. Even this, at the best, was precarious. and will often desert the most devoted industry; but Cunningham, fortunately, had learned a craft upon which he was not too proud to fall back should higher resources forsake him. Chantrey, the eminent statuary, was in want of a foreman who combined ar- tistic imagination and taste with mechanical skill and experience; and what man could be better fitted for the office than the mason, poet, and journalist, who had now established for himself a considerable literary reputation? A union was formed between the pair that continued till death; and the appearance of these inseparables, as they continued from year to year to grow in celebrity, the one as a sculptor and the other as an author, seldom failed to arrest the attention of the good folks of Pimlico as they touK their daily walk from the studio in Ecclestone Street to the foundry in the Mews. Although the distance was considerable, as well as a public thoroughfare, they usually walked bareheaded, while the short figure, small round face, and bald head of the artist were strikingly contrasted with the tall stalwart form, dark bright eyes, and large sentimental countenance of the poet. The duties of Cunningham in the capacity of "friend and assistant," as Chantrey was wont to term him, were sufficiently multifarious; and of these the superintendence of the artist's extensive work-hop was not the least. The latter, although so distinguished as a statuary, had obtuse feelings and a limited imagination, while those of Cunningham were of the highest order: the artbt's reading had been very limited, but that of the poet was extensive and multi- farious. Cunningham was, therefore, as able in sug- gesting graceful attitudes in figures, picturesque folds in draperies, and new proportions for pedestals, as Chantrey was in executing them; and in this way the former was a very Mentor and muse to the latter. lie-sides all this, Cunningham recommended his em- ployer's productions through the medium 1 t the \ rcss, illustrated their excellencies, and defended against maligners; fought his battles against rival committees, and established his claims when they would have been sacrificed in favour ol s me : artist. Among the other methods by which Chantrey * artistic reputation wast::,.- established and abroad, may be mentioned a sketch 1 : :.:- . '■•: account of his works, publishe 1 in />'.'<:, zinc for April, lS20, and a criti |ue in the ( uar.'er.'y fir 1S26, both of these articles being fr : Allan Cunningham. Tl '- • : tiie artist's studio by his 1 and hi- power of illustrating the i -is ai d statue, which the building 1 >■ m e ; - ih..t it wa- sometimes difficult to tell whether ! the high deiini at: n> l" art el 1 t at:i 1 for many among its th r.-.m is < i \ -.: wavalai the hiirhest in rank and them >: [;-;i:.g...sl.eU 416 ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. in talent were brought into daily intercourse with him, from among whom he could select the characters he most preferred for friendship or acquaintance. Among the illustrious personages with whom his connection with Chantrey brought him into contact, the most gratifying of all to the mind of Cunningham must have been the acquaintance to which it intro- duced him with Sir Walter Scott. We have already seen how devout a hero- worshipper he was by the visit he paid to the Ettrick Shepherd. Under the same inspiration, while still working as a stone- mason in Nithsdale, he once walked to Edinburgh for the privilege of catching a glimpse of the author of Marmion as he passed along the public street. In 1S20, when Cunningham had himself become a distinguished poet and miscellaneous writer, he came in personal contact with the great object of his venera- tion in consequence of being the bearer of a request from Chantrey that he would allow a bust to he taken of him. The meeting was highly characteristic of b ith parties. Sir Walter met his visitor with both hands extended, for the purpose of a cordial double shake, and gave a hearty "Allan Cunningham, I am glad to see you." The other stammered out something about the pleasure he felt in touching the hand that had charmed him so much. "Ay," said Scott, moving the member, with one of his pawky smiles, "and a big brown hand it is." He then complimented the hard of Nithsdale upon his bal- lads, and entreated him to try something of still higher consequence "for dear auld Scotland's sake," quoting these words of burns. The result of Cunning- ham's immediate mission was the celebrated bust of Sir Walter Scott by Chantrey — a bust which not only gives the external semblance, but expresses the very character and soul of the mighty magician, and that will continue through late generations to pre- sent his likeness as distinctly as if he still moved among them. The acquaintanceship thus auspiciously commenced was not allowed to lie idle; and while it materially benefited the family of Cunningham, it also served at once to elicit and gratify the warm-hearted benevo- lence of Sir Walter. The event is best given in the words of Lockhart, Sir Walter Scott's son-in-law and biographer. "Breakfasting one morning (this was in the summer of 1828) with Allan Cunningham, and commending one of his publications, he looked round the table and said, 'What are you going to make of all these hoys, Allan?' 'I ask that question often at my own heart,' said Allan, 'and I cannot answer it.' 'What does the eldest point to?' 'The callant would fain be a soldier, Sir Walter — and I have half a promise of a commission in the king's army for him; but I wish rather lie would go to India, for there the pay is a maintenance, and one docs not need interest at every step to get on.' Scott dropped the subject, but went an hour after- wards to Lord Melville, who was now president of the Board of Control, and begged a cadetship for young Cunningham. Lord Melville promised to in- quire if he had one at his disposal, in which case he would gladly serve the son of honest Allan; but the point being thus left doubtful, Scott, meeting Mr. John Loch, one of the East India directors, at dinner the same evening, at Lord Stafford's, applied to him and received an immediate assent. < >n reaching home at night he found a note from Lord Melville intimating that he had inquired, and was happy in complying with his request. Next morning Sir Walter appeared at Sir V. Chantrey's breakfast- table, and greeted the sculptor (who is a brother of t'n.e angle) with, 'I suppose it has sometimes happened to you to catch one trout (which was all you thought of) with the fly, and another with the bobber. I have done so, and I think I shall land them both. Don't you think Cunningham would like very well to have cadetships for two of those fine lads?' 'To be sure he would,' said Chantrey, 'and if you'll secure the commissions I'll make the outfit easy.' Great was the joy in Allan's household on this double good news; but I should add that, before the thing was done, he had to thank another benefactor. Lord Melville, after all, went out of the Board of Control before he had been able to fulfil his promise; but his successor, Lord Ellenborough, on hearing the circumstances of the case, desired Cunningham to set his mind at rest; and both his young men are now prospering in the India service." By being thus established in Chantrey's employ, and having a salary sufficient for his wants, Allan Cunningham was released from the necessity of an entire dependence on authorship, as well as from the extreme precariousness with which it is generally accompanied, especially in London. He did not, however, on that account relapse into the free and easy life of a mere dilettanti writer. ( )n the contrary, these advantages seem only to have stimulated him to further exertion; so that, to the very end of his days, he was not only a diligent, laborious student, but a continually improving author. Mention has already been made of the wild exuberance that characterized his earliest efforts in poetry. Hogg, whose senti- ments on this head we have already seen, with equal justice characterizes its after-progress. "Mr. Cunning- ham's style of poetry is greatly changed of late for the better. 1 have never seen any style improved so much. It is free of that all crudeness and mannerism that once marked it so decidedly. He is now uni- formly lively, serious, descriptive, or pathetic, as he changes his subject; but formerly he jumbled all these together, as in a boiling cauldron, and when once he began, it was impossible to calculate where or when he was going to end." Scott, who will be reckoned a higher authority, is still louder in praise of Cunningham, and declared that some of Ids songs, especially that of It's home and it's /tame, were equal to Burns. But although his fame com- menced with his poetry, and will ultimately rest mainly upon it, he was a still more voluminous prose writer, and in a variety of departments, as the following list of his chief works will sufficiently show : — Sir Marmaduke Maxwell, a drama. This produc- tion Cunningham designed for the stage, and sent it in MS., in 1820, to Sir Walter Scott for his perusal and approbation. But the judgment formed of it was, that it was a beautiful dramatic poem rather than a play, and therefore better fitted for the closet than the stage. In this opinion every reader of Sir Marmaduke Afaxtoell will coincide, more especially when he takes into account the complexity of the plot, and the capricious manner in which the interest is shifted. Paul Jones, a novel ; Sir Michael Scott, a novel. Although Cunningham had repressed the wildness of his imagination in poetry, it still worked madly within him, and evidently required a safety-valve- after being denied its legitimate outlet. No one can be doubtful of the fact who peruses these novels; for not only do they drive truth into utter fiction, but fiction itself into the all but unimaginable. This is especially the case with the last of these works, in which the extravagant dreams of the Pythagorean or the Brahmin are utterly out-heroded. Hence, not- withstanding the beautiful ideas and profusion of lining events with which they arc stored — enough, indeed, to have furnished a whole stock of novels THOMAS MOUNSEY CUNNINGHAM. 417 and romances — they never became favourites with the public, and have now ceased to be remembered. Songs of Scotland, Ancient and Modern, -with In- troduction and Notes, Jlistorical and Critical, and Characters of the Lyric Poets. P\>ur vols. 8vo, 1825. Some of the best poems in this collection are by Cunningham himself; not introduced surreptitiously, however, as in the case of Cromek, but as his own productions; and of these De Bruce contains such a stirring account of the battle of Bannockburn as Scott's Lord of the Isles has not surpassed. Lures of the Most Eminent British Painters, Sculp- tors, and Architects, published in Murray's "Family Library." Six vols. l2mo. 1829-33. This work, although defective in .philosophical and critical analysis, and chargeable, in many instances, with partiality, continues to be highly popular, in conse- quence of the poetical spirit with which it is per- vaded, and the vivacious, attractive style in which it is written. This was what the author probably aimed at, instead of producing a work that might serve as a standard for artists and connoisseurs; and in this he has fully succeeded. Literary Illustrations to Majors " Cabinet Gallery of Pictures:' 1 1833-34. The Maid of Elvar, a poem. Lord Pol dan, a romance. Life of Burns. Life of Sir David Wilkie. Three vols. Svo. 1843. Cunningham, who knew the painter well, and loved him dearly as a congenial Scottish spirit, found in this production the last of his literary efforts, as he finished its final corrections only two days before he died. At the same time, he had made considerable progress in an extended edition of Johnson's Lives of the Poets; and a Life of Chantrey was also expected from his pen; but before these could be accomplished, both poet and sculptor, after a close union of twenty- nine years, had ended their labours, and bequeathed their memorial to other hands. The last days of Chantrey were spent in drawing the tomb in which he wished to be buried, in the churchyard of Norton, in Derbyshire, the place of his nativity; and while showing the plans to his assistant, he observed, with a look of anxiety, "But there will be no room for you." "Room forme!"' cried Allan Cunningham, "I would not lie like a toad in a stone, or in a place strong enough for another to covet. O, no! let me lie where the green grass and the daisies grow, waving under the winds of the blue heaven." The wish of both was satisfied; for Chantrey reposes Under his mausoleum of granite, and Cunningham in the pic- turesque cemetery of Harrow. The artist by his will left tiie poet a legacy of ^2000, but the constitution of the latter was so prematurely exhausted that he lived only a year after his employer. His death, which was occasioned by paralysis, occurred at Lower Belgrave Place, I'imlico, on the 29th October, 1842, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. CUNNINGHAM, Thomas Mounsey. This excellent p >et and song-writer belonged to a family that has been prolific of genius during two genera- tions, being the second son of a family of ten chil- dren, and elder brother of Allan Cunningham. His father, fohn Cunningham, who had been previously a land-steward, first in the county of Durham and afterwards in Dumfriesshire, ultimately leased the farm of Culfaud, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, and there Thomas was born on the 25th of June, 1776; but his father having been unsuccessful as a farmer, the family migrated to several abodes suc- cessivelv, so that Thomas was educated, first at the village school of Kellieston, and afterwards at the vol. 1. schools and academy of Dumfries, where he com- pleted his education by acquiring the knowledge <>f book-keeping, mathematics, the French tongue, and a little I-atin. At the age of sixteen he became clerk to Mr. John Maxwell of Terraughty, but soon after, having been offered a clerkship in South Caro- lina, he was preparing to set out for that quarter, but was dissuaded by the advice of Mr. l'atrick Miller of Dalswinton, to whom his father at that time was factor. It was necessary, however, on account of home poverty and a numerous family, that Thomas should learn some trade or manual profession, and, accordingly, by his own choice, he was apprenticed to the laborious occupation of a mill-wright. It was while he was thus employed, that during the leisure hours of this toilsome appren- ticeship he recreated himself with the cultivation of poetry; and his productions, which were in his native tongue, found acceptance with the neighbour- ing peasantry, for whom they were chiefly written. His father also, who appears to have been a man of taste and judgment, approved of these juvenile produc- tions, and encouraged him to persevere. But the best stamp of their merit in the eyes of a young poet was the fact, that one of his pieces was actuallv put in print. This was the poem of the liar st Kirn, written in 1797, descriptive of the fun and frolic of a harvest-home in a farmhouse in Scotland, and which was published by Messrs. Brash and Reid, booksellers in Glasgow, in their series of Poetry % Original and Selected. Having finished his apprenticeship during the same year, Thomas Mounsey Cunningham went to England to exercise his craft, and found employment in the workshop of a mill-wright in Rotherham. His employer having become bankrupt, he went to Lon- don, and was seriously thinking of trying his fortune in the West Indies, when his former employer, who had recommenced business at Lynn in Norfolk, in- vited him to return. He complied, and remained at Lynn until 1S00, when he removed to Wiltshire, and soon after to the neighbourhood of Cambridge. Still prosecuting his employment and endeavouring to better his condition, he proceeded to Dover, and while there witnessed, in 1 805, a sea engagement between our cruiser.- and the French flotilla. From Dover he subsequently went to London, where he occupied a situation in the establishment of Mr. Rennie, the celebrated engineer and his countryman, which he afterwards exchanged for that of foreman to Mr. Dickson, also an engineer, and superintei of Fowler's chain-cable manufactory. In 181 2, a clerkship in Rennie's establishment having b vacant, Thomas Cunningham was invited to 1 ecu] y it, in consequence of which he went 1>- k to his former quarters, and there, latterly, became 1 rin- cipal clerk, with a liberal salary, and pcrmissi admit his eldest son as his assistant. This . his manifold peregrinations and changes, which however had always been conducte had led to advancement, until tin;, tin: 11\ '. him in respectability and comfort, . for his fellow-citizen his bn ther Allan, ginning to be known in the literary \\ < :. termination seldom fall- to the l"t of ; ■• turers, especially if poetry b their - When he went to the > in 1797, Thomas Cunningham ha 1 been carne-t'.y advised by his counsellor. Mr. Miller fD bwir.Mn. to abjure his in lul difficult restrict;, in his harp lie mute for 1 I ■ ■" penance he again \ : ' . ■ . ' in 1806 he sen; to the ^ ..'.'.-. \ ::;/.v sever, . ■•,;_:.. 27 41* THOMAS MOUXSEY CUNNINGHAM - WILLIAM CUNNINGHAM. productions, which arrested attention, and were de- clared to be the best that had adorned its pages. Such was the opinion of Hogg himself, already a contributor to the magazine, who having discovered the author, addressed him in a highly complimentary epistle, to which the other replied in verse in the same journal. When the Ettrick Shepherd also planned the Forest Minstrel in 1809, and applied to his poetical friend for contributions, Cunningham permitted him to republish such of his productions as pleased him from the magazine, and these are the best poems in the Forest Minstrel, unless we except those of Hogg himself. But while Cunningham's fame as a poet was thus rising to a height that might have proved dangerous to his worldly advancement, a check occurred which induced him suddenly to pause. Some critical allusions to his style occurred in the Scots Magazine, and with these he was so highly offended that he again relapsed into poetical silence, which was continued for another nine years. It was only a still worse injury that made him at last speak out. One of his songs was published without his permission in the Nithsdale Minstrel, and in- censed at this unhandsome act of lifting, he snatched up his pen to write a severe castigation of the pub- lishers of the Minstrel, which appeared in the Scots Magazine of 1815. The flood-gates of his inspira- tion being thus opened anew, he continued to write, and in the Edinburgh Magazine, which was started in 1817 he contributed, under the title of the Literary Legacy, a miscellany or medley of things old and new, in prose and in verse, which were of popular interest, and highly advantageous to the periodical. Thus matters continued, until a slight difference with the editor reduced him once more to a moody silence, which this time was to be perpetual. It will be seen from these events, that he was not only touchy in taking offence, but obstinate in nursing the feud. During the latter period of his life he was so careful of the literary reputation he had won, that he held an annual ''auto ite fe" upon his productions both in prose and poetry written during the elapsed year, and those which did net satisfy him he consigned to the flames. I tut such deeds of arbitrary destruction are apt at times to be too hasty, and on one such pecasion he destroyed the Braken Fell, one of the best of his compositions in verse, which contained a diverting description of the droll characters he had known and the scenes he had witnessed in his early days. The loss was irretrievable, and his brother Allan, who valued the poem very highly, deplored its hasty doom. Although Cunningham was so capricious in litera- ture, he was very different in the affairs of business: in these his industry, steadiness, and perseverance were so conspicuous, as to secure the confidence of his employers, and work his way from the rank of a mere workman to a position of respectability and comfort. He had indeed a double portion of that prudence which distinguished his brother Allan, so that instead of using literature as a crutch, or even a staff, he handled it as a switch, and could throw it lightly aside when there was work for both hands to do. It was this toying with poetry, and indiffer- ence to authorship as an occupation, which his friends, and especially the Ettrick Shepherd, so deeply re- gretted; bat Thomas Cunningham persevered to the end in preferring the honourable substantialities of life to uncertain fame and the risk of starvation. He died of Asiatic cholera on the 28th of October, 1834, in the fifty-eighth year of his age. His larger poems are distinguished by drollery and grave Scottish humour, while his songs, which are the best speci- mens of his poetical powers, abound in forcible cor- rect description, with deep feeling and tenderness. Among these was his Hills of Gallmua, which was attributed successively to Robert Burns and James Hogg, before its real author was ascertained. CUNNINGHAM, Rev. William, D.D., LL.U. This profound theologian and distinguished contro- versialist, whose name is so closely connected with the origin of the Eree Church, was born in the town of Hamilton in 1805. His father, who was a mer- chant, a word in the provincial towns of Scotland indicating a storekeeper or dealer in miscellaneous articles, dealt in drapery and hardware goods in Castle Wynd, Hamilton, lie died, however, when William, the eldest of three sons, was only five years of age, leaving the family very scantily provided, in consequence of which the widow with her children was obliged to return to her father's house in Lesma- hago. Here William was sent to school, the teacher of which was a sister's son of the poet Burns, and who still is teacher of the parochial school of Kin- ross. But the residence of the fatherless boy at Lesmahago was brief, for when he was only ten years of age his grandfather died, and Mrs. Cun- ningham was obliged to seek a new home. Her choice was naturally decided for Dunse, of which her brother was parish minister, and there William was educated for five more years at the school taught by a Mr. Maule. Having in this way acquired a knowledge of the branches of an ordinary education, and a sufficient acquaintanceship with classical learn- ing to fit him for entrance into college, he went to Edinburgh in 1820, and at the age of fifteen became a student of the university. From the foregoing account it can easily be sur- mised that the college career of William Cunningham was not to be an easy one. Unpatronized and un- aided, he had encountered in mere boyhood the task of a man, and while making himself a scholar, must labour for his own support. But no one who saw him in after-life — who noted his resolute features and bold straightforward bearing, that made way through every difficulty, like a ship in its course — could believe him likely to fail either through indo- lence or faint-heartedness. While at college he maintained himself by working as a tutor and private teacher, and while thus labouring to make others good scholars, he perfected his own classical attain- ments; thus also he trained himself to encounter those difficulties which, in future years, he saw, faced, and overcame. The champion of the disruption, which was like the rending of the pillars of Hercules, was not to be nursed upon a bed of down and a silken pillow. We need not follow his course of education from class to class at college; his was a silent unostentatious character, that did not parade its intellectual attain- ments; but his early diligence, and the proficiency that rewarded it, were strikingly indicated in the full equip- ment with which, when still young, he entered the field, and distanced every rival. Having finished the curriculum prescribed by the rules of the Church ot Scotland, he was licensed to preach by the presby- tery of Dunse in 1828. He was now a probationer; but like many others of unrecognized talent and unfulfilled renown, he might have remained a pro- bationer for years, had it not been for a circumstance which the world would call fortunate, and the more reflective providential. Early in 1829 the Rev. Dr. Scott, minister of the West Church, Greenock, having been disabled from his clerical duties by paralysis, engaged Mr. Cunningham as an assistant, and in this capacity he became so popular with the congregation, that they soon after wished the tem- porary tie to be made permanent. This was done, WILLIAM CUNNINGHAM. 419 ml, as colleague and successor to Dr. Scott, Mr. Cunningham became oneof the ministersof Greenock. It was thus as a popular preacher, and owing to no other advantage, that at the age of twenty-four he secured that suffrage in his favour which forms the great mark of pulpit ambition, and passed almost at a single step from an unnoticed student into an eloquent and popular divine. And yet he was no mere pulpit declaimer, but a cool investigator and stubborn reasoner — a theologian who went to the root of the matter, and presented it to his hearers as he found it; and when his preaching rose into vehement fervour, which it often did, it was a logi- cian's rather than an orator's earnestness and wrath. That such a kind of preaching should be so captivat- ing, was owing to the peculiar character and circum- stances of those who sat under his ministry. The people of Greenock are a cool, calculating, matter- of-fact generation, unaccustomed to the blandish- ments of oratory, and not likely to care for it though it should address them with the voice of the charmer. They had also been indoctrinated in a stern demon- strative theology first by Dr. Love, and afterwards by Dr. Scott, who had been their favourite clerical teachers, and whose substantial preaching was suited to their characters and wants. Thus the place and people had been prepared for Mr. Cunningham, whose "deep preaching" had found its proper sphere. After this explanation, it will not be wondered at that he who had been the most popular of preachers in Greenock, should have been afterwards oneof the least popular in Edinburgh. There every circum- stance was reversed. In modern as in ancient Athens, the citizens were employed in hearing or telling some new thing, and with them the theology of their fathers had become somewhat effete. They must have — not a >n-,s theology, for as yet they were too orthodox for that, but the old dressed up so as to look as goo 1 as new, and be accommodated to the prevalent fashion. But to such a dainty transmuta- tion Cunningham could not, and would not succumb; and was therefore obliged to content himself in Edinburgh with a choice but diminished audience. Irrespective of mere popular dislike or indifference, such merit as Mr. Cunningham's could not long be hid, and the time was at hand when its worth was to be recognized and called into full exercise. An attempt was made to have him as one of the ministers of Glasgow, by the town-council of that city, to which the patronage of its churches belongs, but this he respectfully declined. ISul in 1S33, when he was elected a member of the General Assembly, the young minister of Greenock seemed to find himsell i:i Ids proper sphere; and his talents in ecclesiastical were so remarkable, as to arrest general atten- tion, and secure the favour ol the church party to which he belonged. It was well, too, that such re- cognition occurred, as the conflict had already com- 1 in the Church of Scotland which was to 1 with every year, and only to terminate with the disrupti >n. The general desire was to secure his services for Edinburgh, and in 1S34 he was trans- lated to the capital as minister of Trinity College Church. being now at the head -quarters of the great ecclesiastical controversy. Dr. Cunningham was a power that was speedily felt both by his own callc 1 the evangelical, and tiie opposite, termed the m 1 lerate; an 1 his opp i-ition t < patr< »n ige, vocation of the right- of the : g their own mini ters, were conducte ! w ith a « Icarness .in 1 force of argument, an 1 a kn liurch his- tory, which his opponents fell to 1 that few could sustain a stand-up combat with this logical Titan. Into the particulars, however, of the ten years that followed we do not enter, as this would be to give a detail of the history of the dis- ruption, and the erection of the separate Free Church of Scotland. It is enough to state, that in every stage of that protracted contest he was an influential leader, and in every debate a mati hless disputant. To the charms of oratory or the graces of elocution he made no pretence whatever; and as for the poetry or sentimentality of the subject, one- might as soon have expected a sprinkling of rose- water from the trunk of an elephant. He dealt in hard facts and naked ideas, and every word ix-yond these was in his eyes a superfluity or a gewgaw. His forte lay in the skill with which he stripped tin- question of every redundant or perplexing adjunct; the firmness with which he grasped the leading idea, let it twist or lubricate as it might ; and the char, concise, and forcible language with which. 1 scribed it or settled it, according as the occasion might require. And that his definitions were 1 and his demonstrations sound, was shown by the audience that listened and the effects of his pli In the General Assembly were usually comprised the most learned, the most accomplished and t. men of the kingdom ; their national circumspection was sharpened by the importance of the topics raid the consequences that depended on them ; and any attempts in sophistry would have been certain of detection and exposure, and a ground of j triumph. Hut through this terrible ordeal Dr. Cun- ningham passed, not only unscathed, but victorious. When the tedious conflict ended in the retin of the dissentients, and the establishment of the free Church with all the apparatus of a national institution, Dr. Cunningham was appropriately appointed professor of church history in the new- college which was forthwith instituted for the 1 tion of a free Church ministry. It was a sil every way congenial to the occupant and the fame he had already acquired in that t the Iiritish all ! /■''>: \'.' /.:.o.\.V .-.' / zinc which almost instantly occiq i among the quarterlies of the day. and portant publication Dr. Cunningham w is i I : : : several years. After he retired ti -till continued to contril the history of theological controversy. 1 ■ of I >r. ( halm 1 rs, in 1S47, 1 »r. < appointed principal of the br< : Church. 1 in 1S59 he was elected moderator of the 1 1 ' ( General A-sembly. After this, alt! than the noon of life had pa- Herculean frame and vigorous step ; ; a long career lay still before him. 1 - ' alarmed by the symptoms < I a iv; i denly commenced, and delect notice that life and it- i< :1 v ah! - These indications wvre bat ".. in Edinburgh on ;' 1 i" I ' . r 1. The life 1 1" I >r. < • tatious an 1 so lit;! w i- ; i. man. to w h 420 JAMES CURRIE. debted for the preceding notices. As an author, Dr. C. will be chiefly distinguished by his post- humous works. His lectures on church history were left in excellent order for publication, and of these, three volumes have already issued from the press, under the supervision of two of his learned coadjutors in the Free Church College. CURRIE, James, M.D., an eminent physician of Liverpool, was born May 31, 1756, in the parish of Kirkpatrick-Fleming, Dumfriesshire. His father was the minister of that parish, but obtained, soon after the birth of his son, the living of Middlebie. His mother was Jane Boyd, a woman of superior understanding, but who unfortunately died of con- sumption shortly after their removal to Middlebie. Young Currie was the only son in a family of seven children. Having been at an early age deprived of his mother, his aunt, Miss Duncan, kindly undertook the management of the family. To the anxious care which Miss Duncan took of his early education, Currie owed many of those virtues which adorned his after-life. He commenced his education at the parochial school of Middlebie, and at the age of thirteen was removed to Dumfries and placed in the seminary of the learned Dr. Chapman, where he remained for upwards of two years. He was origi- nally intended for the profession of medicine, but having accompanied his father in a visit to Glasgow, he was so much delighted with the bustle and commercial activity displayed in that city, that he obtained his father's consent to betake himself to a mercantile life; and accordingly he entered the ser- vice of a company of American merchants. This, as frequently happens, where the wishes of an in- experienced young man are too readily yielded to, proved a very unfortunate change. He sailed for Virginia just at the commencement of those disputes with the American colonies which terminated in their independence, and the commercial embarrassment and losses which were occasioned by the consequent interruption of trade have been offered as an apology for the harsh and ungenerous manner in which Currie was treated by his employers. To add to his distress, he fell sick of a dangerous illness, and before he was completely restored to health he had the misfortune to lose his father, who left his family in very narrow circumstances. Young Currie, with that generosity and sanguine disregard of the difficulties of his situa- tion which formed so remarkable a feature in his character, immediately on learning of the death of his father, and of the scanty provision made for his sisters, divided among them the small portion which fell to his share. And, disgusted with the hardships he had encountered in the commencement of his mercantile education, he determined to renounce the pursuits of commerce. For a time he seems to have turned his attention to politics, writing several papers on the then all-engrossing subject of the quarrel between Great Britain and America. At length, however, he saw the necessity of making choice of some profession; and, led by the advice of his near relation Dr. Currie, of Richmond, New Carolina, with whom he was then living, he determined to resume his original intention of studying medicine. In pursuance of this plan he proceeded to Britain, returning home by the West Indies; being prevented by the war from taking a more direct route. Alter encountering many difficulties, he reached London in 1776, having been absent from his native country for five years. From London he proceeded to Edin- burgh, where he prosecuted his studies with unre- mitting assiduity until the year 1780. He early became conspicuous among his fellow-students by his talents. As a member of the medical society he greatly distinguished himself, and the papers which he read before that body not only give evidence of his superior abilities, but afford an interesting proof that, even at that early period, he had given his attention to those subjects in his profession which he afterwards so fully and ably illustrated. Although the rapid progress he was making in his studies, and the high station he held among his con- temporaries, rendered a continuance at college very desirable, still Currie was too deeply impressed with the necessity of attaining independence and of free- ing his sisters and aunt of the burden of his support, not to make every exertion to push himself into employment. Accordingly, having procured an in- troduction to General Sir William Erskine, he ob- tained from that officer an ensigncy in his regiment, with the situation of surgeon's mate attached to it. He does not appear, however, to have availed him- self of these appointments ; for, learning that a medical staff was about to be formed in Jamaica, he hurried to Glasgow, where he obtained a degree as a physician; hi., attendance at college having been insufficient to enable him to graduate at the uni- versity of Edinburgh. Having got his degree, and having furnished himself with numerous introduc- tions, he proceeded to London, in the hope of ob- taining an appointment in the W r est India establish- ment. But, on reaching the capital, he found that all the appointments were already filled up. Although disappointed in obtaining an official situation, he still determined to sail to Jamaica, with the intention of establishing himself there in private practice; or, failing that, to proceed to Richmond, and join his kinsman Dr. Currie. He was induced, however, by the persuasion of his friends in London, to abandon this plan, even after his passage to Jamaica had been taken out. They strongly urged him to establish himself in one of the large provincial towns of Eng- land; for, from the high estimate which they had formed of his abilities and professional acquirements, they were convinced that he would speedily raise himself to eminence in his profession. In accordance with this view he proceeded to Liverpool in October, 17S0. He was induced to select that town in con- sequence of a vacancy having occurred there by the removal of Dr. Dobson to Bath. But, even without such an opening, it is evident that, to a young phy- sician of talent and enterprise, a wealthy and rapidly increasing commercial town like Liverpool holds out peculiar advantages, and great facilities for getting into practice, where the continual fluctuation of society presents an open field for professional abili- ties, widely different from that of more stationary communities. Hence, as had been anticipated, Dr. Currie's talents and gentlemanly manners brought him rapidly into practice; although on his first arrival he was an utter stranger in Liverpool, and only found access to society there by the introduc- tions he brought with him. His success was early confirmed by being elected one of the physicians to the Infirmary, ami strengthened by his marriage, in the year 1783, to Miss Lucy Wallace, the daughter of a respectable merchant of Liverpool. Although busily engaged in the arduous duties of his profession, Dr. Currie yet found time to cultivate literature. A similarity of tastes having led to an intimacy with the well-known Mr. Roscoe, Dr. Currie and Mr. Roscoe, along with Mr. William Rathbone, formed a literary club, which deserves to be remembered as being the first of those numerous literary institutions by which Liverpool is now so creditably distinguished. The pulmonary affection under which Dr. Currie JAMES CURRIE. 421 began to suffer about this time has been ascribed to the fatigue and the night journeys to which he was exposed in his attendance on the sick-bed of his friend Dr. Hell, of Manchester. His first attack was so violent as completely to incapacitate him for business; and finding no mitigation of the paroxysms of the hectic fever, except in travelling, he under- took a journey to Bristol; but unfortunately the good effects which the change might otherwise have pro- duced were neutralized by the distressing circum- stance of his arriving just in time to witness the death of his sister; the second who had, within the year, fallen a victim to the same disease under which he was himself labouring. Deriving no benefit from his residence in Bristol, he removed to Matlock, in the hope that the drier air and the hot baths of that inland town would prove more beneficial. Disap- pointed in this expectation, he resolved to try the effect of his native air; and in the hope of again see- ing a third sister who was sinking under the disease so fatal to his family, he made a hurried journey to Scotland. As regarded his health, his expectations were wonderfully gratified : for when he reached Dumfriesshire he was so much recruited, that he was able to ride on horseback for an hour at a time; but he was too late to see his sister, who was con- veyed to the grave on the very day of his arrival. Notwithstanding this distressing event, his native air and exercise on horseback proved so beneficial, that, after remaining a few weeks at Moffat, he re- turned to Liverpool on horseback, varying his journey by visiting the lakes of Cumberland. In this journey lie was able to ride forty miles on the day on which he reached Liverpool. A very interesting account of Dr. Currie's illness and recovery will be found in the second volume of Darwin's Zoonomia. The first work which, after his recovery, Dr. Currie undertook, was a translation of his friend Dr. Hell's inaugural dissertation. This he did at the request of the Literary ami Philosophical Societyof Manchester, an 1 it was published in the society's Transactions. The translation was accompanied by several valuable notes, and a short biographical sketch of the author; in which Dr. Currie appears to have given a very correct and impartial delineation of his friend's character. The elegance of the style and execution of this work gained for Dr. Currie very considerable reputation as an author. On being elected member of the Medical Society of London, he communicated an essay (published in the society's Transactions) on Tetanus and Con- vulsive Disorders. In the year following he presented to the Royal Society a paper giving An Account of the Remarkable Effect of Ship-wreck on Manners, 'with Experiments and Obsene, aiises from its having been often resorted to by the patients themselves, and from its l>eing prescribed by the ignorant too late in the hot sta^e of the fever. The profession, therefore, is deeply indebted to Dr. Currie for the introduction of this practice; which, in skilful hands, has proved most efficacious, and has, been the means of saving many lives. Dr. Currie on several occasions indulged himself in writing on political topics; but by some remark- able fatality, although by no means a consistent ad- herent to one side, he invariably took the unpopular side of the question. While in America, he had de- fended the mother country against the colonies. He afterwards joined in the no Popery enthusiasm during the disgraceful riots raised by Lord George Gordon, bringing himself into disrepute by the ill-chosen time he took to indulge in a cry which was otherwise popular with the best classes of society. And the principles which he advocated in his Letter, Com- mercial and Political, addressed to the Right II. n. William Pitt, under the assumed name of Jasper Wilson, raised him a host of enemies, by whom he was attacked in the most violent and scurrilous manner. While on an excursion to Dumfriesshire on account of his health, Dr. Currie made the acquaintance of Robert Hums, the Scottish poet; and, like all who had the good fortune to meet that extraordinary man, he became one of his enthusiastic admirers. On the death of Hums, when the friends of the poet were exerting themselves to raise his family from the state of abject poverty in which it had been left, they strongly urged Dr. Currie to become his editor and biographer, to which he at length consented; in the year 1S00 he published, for the behoof of the poet's family, 'The Works of Robert Turns, r . Account of his Life, and Criticisms on his II':. to -which are Prefixed sonic ( '/■.•;■; ations , ;.• the ( ter and Condition of the Scottish Peasantry. It is by this work that Dr. Currie has established his fame in the republic of letters. He has. at the same time, by the manner in which he has accomplish conferred a lasting favour on all who can a] \ reciate the language and beauties of our national poet. Although Dr. Currie had been restored to com- parative good health after his first attack ol illness ;:i 17S4, still from that period he continued to be - to pulmonary threat enings ; but it was not until the vear 1S04 that his constitution gave way so as to force him to retire from his professional Liverpool. In the hope that his native aii again restore him to health, he ma le a ' Scotland; but deriving no benefit from the cl he returned to England, and spent the er.sumg w inter alternately at Clifton and Hath. L ra tin seemed to recruit, and he was even his professional avocations in the latter c.ty ; but his complaints returning with increasi 1 \ with that restlessr.i ss i .re- moved to S :. _; 1 -t . •■ 1S05, in the fiftieth year ■ :' : Dr. Cunie was of a k tion. and. he was active lence. To his sti many of the charitable and literary in.-:. tut; :.= 1: which it can now b >ast. DAVID DALE. D. DALE, David. This eminent philanthropist was born in Stewarton, Ayrshire, on the 6th of January, 1739. His ancestors are said to have been farmers in that district for several hundred years ; but his father, Mr. William Dale, 1 was a grocer and general dealer in the town. David received the education which was usually given at that period in the small towns of Scotland. His first employment was the herding of cattle. He was afterwards apprenticed in Paisley to the weaving business, at this time the most lucrative trade in the country; but it appears that he disliked the sedentary occupation, and on one occasion left his employment abruptly. He afterwards, however, wrought at the weaving trade in Hamilton and the neighbourhood of Cambuslang. He subsequently removed to Glasgow, and became clerk to a silk-mercer. With the assistance of friends he commenced business on his own account in the linen yarn trade, which he carried on for many years, importing large quantities of French yarns from Flanders, which brought him large profits, and laid the foundation of his fortune.- Mr. Dale had been about twenty years in business in Glasgow when Sir Richard Arkwright's patent inventions for the im- provement of cotton-spinning were introduced into England. Sir Richard visited Glasgow in 1783, and was entertained by the bankers, merchants, and manufacturers at a public dinner, and next day started with Mr. Dale for the purpose of inspecting the waterfalls on the Clyde, with a view to erect works adapted to his improvements. A site was fixed on, and the buddings of the New Lanark cotton-mills were immediately commenced. Arrangements were at the same time made betwixt Sir Richard and Mr. Dale for the use of the patent of the former. Mechanics were sent to England to be instructed in the nature of the machinery and the process of the manufactures ; but, in the meanwhile, Arkwright's patent having been challenged, and the courts of law having decided against its validity, Mr. Dale was thus relieved of all claim for patent right, and the connection betwixt him and Arkwright was conse- quently dissolved, the business being now entirely his own. Considerable opposition to the erection of these works was offered by the landed proprietors in the neighbourhood, from an unfounded apprehension that the privacy of their demesnes would be invaded by the introduction of a multitude of work-people into that rural district; and, more especially, that fresh burdens would be entailed upon them for the support of the poor. Their forebodings, however, were not realized when the mills were put in opera- tion. The works gave employment to great num- bers of peaceable and industrious operatives, who, instead of burdening the land, contributed to en- hance its value by consuming its produce. Finding, likewise, that the mills were yielding large returns to 1 Mr. William Dale was twice married; by his first marriage he had two sons, David and Hugh; and by his second, one son, the late James Dale, Esq., whose son i-, now an eminent merchant in Glasgow. 2 Mr. Dale's shop was then in the High Street, five doors north of the corner at the Cross. lie paid C^, of rent, but thinking this an extravagant rent, he sub-let the one half of it to a watchmaker for fifty shillings. lint in 17-;;, when he was appointed agent for the Royal Bank of Scotland, the wati li- maker's part was turned into the bank office, where the busi- ness of that establishment was conducted till about 177". when it was removed to large premises, south-east corner of St. Andrew's Square. the proprietor, many landlords soon evinced a desire to have similar establishments on their own estates. The capabilities of the steam-engine for impelling cotton machinery were not yet known ; spinning- mills, therefore, could only be erected profitably where there were powerful waterfalls. Many of the landed proprietors in Scotland availed themselves of Mr. Dale's practical knowledge and advice as to establishing mills on properties where such facilities existed. He was instrumental in this way in the erection, amongst others, of the extensive mills at Catrine, on the banks of the river Ayr, and at Spin- ningdale, on the firth of Dornoch, in Sutherlandshire. In several of the new works he had a pecuniary interest as co-partner. Besides the spinning of cotton yarn at New Lanark, Mr. Dale was largely concerned in the manufacture of cotton-cloth in Glasgow. 3 In connection with Mr. George MTntosh, and Monsieur Papillon, a Frenchman, he established, in 1783, the first works in Scotland for the dyeing of cotton turkey- red. He was a partner in an inkle-factory ; also in the Blantyre cotton-mills, and at a later period of his life held a large share in the Stanley cotton-mills. He continued, meanwhile, his original business of importing Flanders yarn; and, in addition to all these sources of income, when the Royal Bank of Scotland established a branch of its business in Glasgow in 1783, he was appointed its sole agent, an office which he held till within a few years of his death, when, upon its business becoming much extended, an additional agent was named to act jointly with him. The individual who, some thirty or forty years before, was a little herd-boy at Stewar- ton was now sole proprietor of, or connected as a managing partner with, several of the most extensive mercantile, manufacturing, and banking concerns of the country, the proper conducting of any one of which would have absorbed the entire powers of most other men. Not so, however, with the subject of our memoir; for we find him successfully conducting, with strict commercial integrity, all the important enterprises in which he was embarked, together with others not included in this enumeration ; besides devoting time and money to various benevolent schemes, and discharging the onerous duties of a magistrate of the city of Glasgow, to which he was elected, first in 1 791, and again in 1 794: moreover, every Lord's-day, and sometimes on other days, preaching the gospel to a Congregational church, of which he was one of the elders. 4 Mr. Dale was eminently qualified to sustain the numerous and varied offices which he had thus undertaken; every duty being attended to in its own place and at the proper time, he was never overburdened with work, nor clid lie ever appear to be in a hurry. The first erected, and at that time the only mill at Xcw Lanark, was accidentally burned to the ground a few weeks after it hail begun to produce spun 3 Under the firm of Dale, Campbell, Reid, and Dale, viz. Mr. Dale himself, Mr. Cam]. bell, Ids brother-in-law, Mr. Andrew Reid, and Mr David Dale, junr., bis nephew. 4 The Congregational church here referred to, and the other churches in Scotland and England in connection with it, give the Scripture name of "elder" to that office which most other denominations designate by the title of " minister " or "pastor." In every such church, where circumstances are favourable, j there is a plurality of elders, most of whom continue to follow the occupations in which they were engaged previously to 1 being called to office. 1>AVII) DALE. 423 yarn, for which there was a great demand. When intelligence of this event reached Glasgow, many thought that a stop would be put to all further opera- tions in that quarter. Mr. Dale heard the intelli- gence with calmness, formed his resolutions, pro- ceeded to the ground to inspect the ruins, and in- stantly issued orders to re-erect the premises which had been consumed. The new mill was speedily reconstmcted, and the manufacture proceeded with fresh energy. Although comfortable dwellings were erected at the village of New Lanark for the workers, and good wages and constant employment insured, great diffi- culty was felt in getting the spinning-mill filled with operatives. There was, indeed, no want of unem- ployed work-people; for the change of commercial relations caused by the fust American war, then raging, very much limited the labour demand, and many, especially from the Highland districts, were in consequence emigrating. It arose from prejudice on the part of the people, more particularly in the Lowlands, against all factory labour. Parents would neither work themselves nor allow their children to enter the mills. In this dilemma Mr. Dale offered employment to a number of Highland families who were emigrating from the Hebrides to America, but had been driven by stress of weather into Greenock, and most of them availed themselves of the opening for securing a comfortable livelihood in their native land. The Celts appearing to have less repugnance to factory labour than their countrymen in the south, agents were sent to the Highlands, who engaged many other families to become workers at New Lanark; bat as the mills were at last increased to four, there was still a deficient supply of labour, especially in the department best served by youths, and recourse was had to the poor-houses of Glasgow and Edinburgh, from which orphan and other pauper children were obtained, and whose moral and reli- gious education was combined with their industrial training. From these sources were the workers in the mill and the villagers of New Lanark chiefly drawn, finning a population which at all periods of its history, has commended it-elf for decent and orderly behaviour. After Mr. Dale had been in business several years, but before he had engaged in any of the large con- cerns now described, he. in September, 1777, married Miss Ann Caroline Campbell, daughter of John Campbell, Esq., W.S., Edinburgh. It is not known whether this lady brought him any fortune, but there is reason to suppose that her father's connection with the Royal bank of Scotland, as a director, led to Mr. Dale's appointment as agent of that establish- ment in (ilasgow, and thus increased his commercial credit and command of capital. Miss Campbell, wh i hal been brought up in the same religious con- nection with her husband, was also of one heart and mind with him in all his schemes of benevolence. She was the mother of seven children, whom she trained up in the fear of the Lord. Mrs. Dale died in January, 1791. Mr. Dale did not again marry. It was. of course, not to he expected that all the undertakings in which Mr. 1 )ale was embarked should prove equally successful. One at least was a total failure. It was generally understood that he lost about £20,000 in sinking a coal-pit in the lands of Barrowfield, the coal never having been reached, owing to the soil being a vanning quicksand, which could not be overcome, although the shaft was laid with iron cylinder-. Messrs. Robert Tennant and David Tod were his copartners in this project; but they together h -1 ' 1 c unparativel; share. Mr. Dale was, however, eminently success- ful on the whole, and had acquired a large fortune. In 1799, being then in his sixty-first year, and nearly his fortieth in business, he resolved on freeing him- self of at least a portion of his commercial responsi- bilities. The mills at Lanark had been uniformly prosperous, yielding returns larger |>erha|>s than any other of his concein-; yet, possibly from his being sole proprietor, and in circumstances to relinquish them without delay, he at once disposed of these ex- tensive and valuable works. Mr. Robert Owen, then a young man residing in Lancashire, was in Glasgow on a visit, and being previously known to Mr. Dale as having, by his talent and [^severing in- dustry, raised himself from humble circumstances to be manager of an extensive spinning-mill at Chorl- ton, he consulted with him as to the propriety of selling the works. The information thus obtained by Mr. Owen convinced him of the profitable nature of the trade, and led him to form a company of English capitalists, who purchased the property at £66,000, and carried on the business for several years, under the firm of the Chorlton Spinning Company, of which Mr. Owen was appointed man- ager. This situation he held from 1700 to 1827, but not all the time in the same partnership. During the twenty-eight years the mills were under Mr. Owen's management, they cleared of nett profit about £360,000, after having laid aside a sum nearly equal to live per cent, on the paid-up capital. Mr. ( )wen, some time after his settlement at New I anark, married Mr. Dale's eldest daughter, with whom he received a large portion. The above-named company continued to work with profit the Lanark mills from 1 799 to 1S13, when the property again changed ownership. During the copartnery, most of the English partners sold their interest to Glasgow merchants, who consequently held the largest share at tile close of the contract. It appears that by this time I 1S141 the partners and the manager had each resolved to get rid of the other; and both parties were bent on retaining, i: possible, possession of the mills. Mr. Owen had now begun to promulgate some of his j eculiar ries; and, for the purpose of carrying them into practice, had constructed the s] stantial building at New Lanark, without, it is said, receiving the formal e some of whom disapproved of his schemes. It was resolved to dispose of the ] and Mr. Owen meanwhile succeeded in forming a new company, which, when the day of - became the purchaser-, alter con- ::, peti- tion, at the cost of ,£112.000. \Y1 required for this large sum. the names of \\ Allen, Joseph Fox. Robert 1 >weii. leremv I'>< John Walker, and Michael C.ibbs, Esquires, were handed in as the partners of the New 1 :.::. :k ( t- ton-mill Company. The education of the common pc j le v.a- it period occupying much attent b - ] had introduced hi- method of in-ti hers at little expense. His i, espoused the cau-e, interest, fr> mi the ' : ' • • ( >wen entered heartii , into t! advocated on the platf ' which he com : ' script;' ui al' >ne ait I in the cau-e n 1 benevolent in and it is a'.- > : ■ he ■- ' "• ■ ■. ■ avowed the inl give him siu h '■ The new c j irtner\ . 1 ': .. 424 DAVID DALE. union, an article rarely to be found in commercial contracts, namely, "That all profits made in the concern beyond five per cent, per annum on the capital invested, shall be laid aside for the religious, educational, and moral improvement of the workers, and of the community at large." And, as appears from the Memoir of William Allen, provision was made "for the religious education of all the children of the labourers employed in the works, and that nothing should be introduced tending to disparage the Christian religion, or undervalue the authority of the Holy Scriptures; that no books should be in- troduced into the library until they had first been approved of at a general meeting of the partners; that schools should be established on the best models of the British, or other approved systems, to which the partners might agree ; but no religious instruc- tion, or lessons on religion, should be used, except the Scriptures, according to the authorized version, or extracts therefrom, without note or comment; and that the children should not be employed in the mills belonging to the partnership until they were of such an age as not to be prejudicial to their health." The pious and benevolent founder of the establish- ment had, in like manner, provided schools and schoolmasters for the education of the workers and their children, and had maintained these throughout the successive changes in the copartnery. Mr. Owen, being thus vested with great powers and ample means for the most enlarged benevolence, started, under the auspices of the newly-formed com- pany, on an extensive educational plan, embracing, in addition to the ordinary school instruction, the higher branches of science. lie gave lessons in military tactics, and caused the workmen to march in order to and from school and workshop in rank and file to the sound of drum and fife — a sort of training rather alien to the anti-warlike predilections of his Quaker copartners. He attempted also to introduce Socialist principles, and became himself a prominent leader of that party, which had hitherto been scarcely heard of in the country. He contri- buted largely in money for the purchase of an estate in the neighbouring parish of Motherwell, and to erect on it a huge building distinguished by the name of New Harmony. In this institution, which soon went to pieces, society was to be reconstituted on Socialist principles, with a community of goods. The partners of Owen were grieved at his folly, and the public shared in their disappointment and regret. He nevertheless pursued his own course, and the consequence was the retirement from the company of those members who had joined it from philan- thropic motives, and the abandonment of their admirably-conceived plan of raising up an intelligent, right-principled, and well-conditioned factory popu- lutiou at S^w Lanark. Mr. Owen continued in connection with the mills till 1827; but during the greater part of his latter years he was occupied in propagating his visionary schemes of infidelity in England and America, in which he spent a princely fortune derived from the profits of the business. Mr. Owen of late years resided chiefly in London, and his children in the United States of America. Mrs. Owen did not adopt the infidel principles ol her husband; on the contrary, soon after ^he had ascertained the nature of his sentiment, she openly avowed her faith in the Lord Jesus, connected her- self with the church of which her father had been an elder, and adorned her Christian profession till her death in 1832. As a retreat from the bustle of a city life, about the year 1800, when his advancing years required repose, Mr. Dale purchased Rosebank — a small landed property and dwelling-house on the banks of Clyde, about four miles east of Glasgow. He was in his sixty-first year when his connection with the Lanark mills ceased. Having acquired a hand- some competency, he resolved on winding up his other business affairs; but the nature of his contracts and copartneries rendered it impossible to free his estate from responsibility till some years after his death. But whilst gradually withdrawing from other business engagements, he most unaccountably, through the influence of Mr. Owen, became a part- ner in the Stanley Cotton Mill Company — a connec- tion which caused him much uneasiness during the latter years of his life, and is said to have involved him in a loss of ^60,000. Having seceded from the Established church, and joined the Independent communion, Mr. Dale, in 1769, undertook among them the office of minister, in which he continued until his death, thirty-seven years afterwards. When we turn from the survey of Mr. Dale's multifarious duties as the pastor of a pretty numerous church, to his active charities as a philanthropist, we are left to wonder how he could find time and strength to go through with the many duties he took in hand. We find him at an early period regularly visiting Bridewell, for the purpose of preaching the gospel to the convicts ; and his example in this respect was long followed by his colleagues in the church. lie every year made ex- cursions to distant parts of the country, visiting and comforting the churches with which he stood con- nected. Although Mr. Dale shunned the ostentatious dis- play of benevolence, yet his liberality could not always be hid. The present generation have at times had to pay very high prices for the necessaries of life, yet no dread of famine, or even partial scarcity, at least in Scotland, has been entertained for at least half a century. Not so, however, during Mr. Dale's time ; for at that period the poor had occasionally to pay ransom prices for food, and even at these prices it sometimes could not be obtained. In the dearth of 1782, 1791-93, and in 1799, Mr. Dale imported, at his own risk, large quantities of food from Ireland, America, and the continent of Europe. To effect this, he chartered ships for the special purpose. The food thus brought in he- retailed to the poor at prime cost, thereby in great measure averting the threatened famine, and prevent- ing a still greater advance in prices. In addition to the benefits, spiritual and temporal, conferred on his countrymen at home, he engaged with the same ardour in most of the schemes then in operation for extending a knowledge of the gospel of peace in foreign countries, especially those which had for their object the translation and circulation of the Word of God. The proposal to translate the Scrip- tures into the various languages of our eastern empire, as projected and accomplished by the Baptist Mis- sionary Society, had his hearty support from the out- set. Mr. Andrew fuller, of Kettering, who travelled for the purpose of collecting funds for this object, was kindly received by Mr. Dale, and from him re- ceived large contributions for the cause. In Mr. Fuller's sermon on covetousness, preached some time after Mr. Dale's death, and printed in the fourth volume of his works, when enjoining on his hearers -<;cars to have studied at Marischal College, New Aberdeen, but fir what length of time, or with what objects, is wholly unknown. In 1657 he went to Oxford, where, according to Anthony Wood, he taught a private grammar-school with good success for alxnit thirty years. He died of a fever on the 28th of August, 1687, and was buried, says the same author, "in the north body of the church of St. Mary Magdalen." Such is the scanty biography that has been preserved of a man who lived in friendship with the most eminent philosopher-, of his day, and who, besides other original speculations, had the singular merit of anticipating, more than a hundred and thirty years ago, some of the most profound conclusions of the present age respecting the education of the deaf and dumb. His work upon this subject is entitled JJidas- calocophus, or the Deaf and Dumb Man's Tutor, and was printed in a very small volume at Oxford in 16S0. He states the design of it to be to bring the way of teaching a deaf man to read and write, ; as possible to that of teaching young ones to speak and understand their mother tongue. "In prosecu- tion of this general idea,"' says an eminent philosopher of the present day, who has, on more than one occa- sion, done his endeavour to rescue the name of Dal- garno from oblivion, "he has treated in one short chapter of a deaf 'man 's dictionary; and, in another, of a grammar for deaf persons; both of them con- taining a variety of precious hints, from which useful practical lights might be derived by all who have any concern in the tuition of children during the first stage of their education" (Air. Dugald Stc~*. art's Account of a Boy Born Blind and Deaf). Twenty years before the publication of his Didascalo* Dalgarno had given to the world a very ingenious piece, entitled Ars Signornm, from which, says Mr. Stewart, it appears indisputable that he w; precursor of Bishop Wilkins in his specul respecting "a real character and a philosi ; language.'' Leibnitz has on various occa- to tlie Ars Signcrum in commendatory term-. I he collected works of Dalgamo were : volume, 4to, by the Maitland Club, in 1S54. DALHOUSIE. James Andrew Brown-Ram- say, first Marqiisok. This eminent state>m born at Dalhousie Castle, county of Edinburgh, 1 n the 22d of April, 1S12. In point of antiquity, the family of Ramsay was conspicuous so 1 reign of David I., when Sir Alexander Ramsay, the knight of Dalwolsie, having signalized himself in the liberation of his country from England, wa warden of the middle marches - . ami sheriff of Teviotdale. The envy of his . Sir William Douglas, at this last a] pointnn nt. i his attack upon the knight of D 1\\ is; open court, and consigning him to a din he died of hunger, is one ^\ those terri! tal ■> ancient Scottish revenge with whi h ' :: 1 history is only too abundant. Ai member of the familv was Sir I .:. K saved the life of James VI.. by s" 1 Gowrie, when the I ment with a drawn sw rd. and : : . . - armed attendants, during the is called the Gou r 1 r tli was en the t '< V:~ • • -.--.■•;'•: :. ."V Si.rtn /•.:'..-; •» ■> .'««• / ' : ;■ ■ ' '■ ' ■' ' '"•'■■ '■ : ' V I -- vv hj h I ■ ■■■■- ■■'■-'■ r:;.a:; a c : ta;: •:•: in it . uld hat - MARQUIS OF DALHOUSIE. count Haddington, and afterwards created an English peer by the title of Earl of Holderness. As he died without issue, his honours expired with him; but his elder brother George, who had been ennobled as Lord Ramsay of Melrose, obtained the king's per- mission to change his title into that of Lord Ramsay of Dalhousie. William, the second baron, 'was created Earl of Dalhousie in 1633. The subject of this memoir was the third son of George, ninth Earl of Dalhousie, but more commonly termed "The Laird of Cockpen" from enjoying the possessions, if not also a descent, from that memorable laird whose unlucky courtship is commemorated in the old Scotch song. His mother, who died in 1S39, was Christian, only child and heiress of Charles Brown, Esq., of Colstoun, in East Lothian. By the death of his two brothers successively, he became, in 1832, the recognized heir of the family titles and estates. lie was first educated at Harrow, and afterwards at Christ Church, Oxford, where lie took his degree with honours in 1833; and during his attendance at the university he had for his fellow- students several who were afterwards to be distin- guished leaders in the political world. Of these, it is enough to name Earl Stanhope, Sir George Lewis, Mr. Gladstone, the Earl of Elgin, and Earl Canning. On finishing his education the future governor- general of India, but at this time known as Lord Ramsay, threw himself into the congenial career of politics, and had not long to wait for an opportunity of action. In the elections for the parliament of 1835 he contested, along with the late Mr. Learmonth of Dean, the representation of the city of Edinburgh, against the Hon. James Abercromby, the speaker- elect of the House of Commons, and Sir John Campbell, Whig solicitor-general, and afterwards 1 )rd-chancellor of England. With such influence arrayed against him, although it was a keen and closely-contested election, the result could scarcely be otherwise than unfavourable to Lord Ramsay, more especially as he was the open advocate of conservative principles, which were not in general favour with the citizens of Edinburgh. He was soon, however, consoled for his defeat, by being returned in 1837 as their representative to parlia- ment by the important agricultural county of East Lothian, with which he was maternally connected. As a member of the Lower House he had only sat for about a year, when the death of his father, in 1838, called him to the House of Lords; but neither am >ng the lor is nor the commons did he distinguish himself as a master in the art of debating. It was soon perceived, however, that he had a peculiar aptitude for the hard laborious duties and substantial work ol politics, and that he had only to bide his time in order to secure his advancement. Even already his own party recognized him as one likely to succeed to the premiership. In the meantime, the ebb and flow of politics could neither strand him on shore nor drift him out to sea. In 1843, when Mr. Gladstone rose to the presidency of the hoard of trade, Lord Dalhousie was appointed vice-president, and, on the retirement of Mr. Gladstone from the office in February, 1845, n ' s lordship was called to the presidency. In this he continued during the re.it of Sir Robert reel's term of government, until Lord John Russell succeeded to the premiership, and although the latter wished that the earl should con- tinue to preside at the board of trade, his lordship thought it a more honourable course to retire with his retiring patron. This desire on the part of a new administration to retain an opponent in such an important charge, was as unusual as it was com- plimentary; but tile cause of this is to be found in the zeal and efficiency with which the Earl of Dal- housie had presided at the board. It was a transi- tion period in our commercial history which the sudden development of the railway power had in- troduced, and when new plans, claims, emergencies, and expedients were enough to overwhelm or be- wilder the strongest head. Amidst this subversion of an old world for the creation of a new, the dili- gence of the earl as vice-president, and afterwards as president, was so conspicuous, that his activity in work and power of endurance seemed to be un- limited. He was the first to enter the office of the board, and the last to retire, while he often con- tinued all day at his labours until two or three o'clock on the following morning. It was a stern appren- ticeship to that difficult and complex government which now awaited him, and for which none was judged so well fitted. This was nothing less than the office of governor-general of India, as successor to Lord Hardinge; and Lord Dalhousie, having accepted it, arrived at Calcutta on the 12th of January, 1848. The history of his lordship's administration in India cannot as yet be dispassionately written, as its effects both for good and for evil have not as yet been fully developed. As ruler of our eastern em- pire, he entered it when its difficulties were of more than ordinary complication; and for the discharge of its duties he brought to it a perseverance that could not be tired, and a resolution that would not yield. Difficulties that would have daunted any other governor-general he fearlessly encountered, and the result of his rule during eight years was manifested in the general confidence it had inspired, the aug- mentation of our Indian empire, and the greater stability imparted to its government. But, on the other hand, all terminated in a bloody and widely- spread rebellion, by which our eastern possessions were all but lost. Had he gone onward in his in- novations too boldly and too rapidly; and was this the inevitable reaction? The question is still one of doubt and discussion. In the meantime, to set him- self right with the world, he drew up a minute of his administration in India from January, 1848, to March, 1856, a voluminous detail, occupying forty folio pages, and altogether composing one of the most remarkable state papers ever written. It is of course a justification of his proceedings, and as such is considered partial and one-sided; but even thus, it gives a distinct view both of the difficulties he surmounted and the improvements he carried out in India. After stating his principles of foreign policy while governor-general, and the wars into which he was compelled to enter, he enumerates the kingdoms he had won to our eastern empire by conquest and annexation. In this way he had added four great kingdoms to the dominions of her majesty Queen Victoria; of which Pegu and the Punjab had been conquered, and Nagpore and Oude annexed ; and besides these, were the smaller acquisitions of Satara, Jhansi, and Berar. But still more important than their acquisition, were the improvements he had introduced for developing their resources, and secur- ing to them the blessings of a just and stable govern- ment. He pointed with honest pride to the 4000 miles of electric telegraph he had extended over India; to 2000 miles of road he had caused to be constructed from Calcutta to Peshawur ; to the opening of the Ganges canal, one of the largest undertakings of the kind in existence; to the progress of the Punjab canal; to the many works of irrigation he had established over our eastern empire, and the reorganization of an official department of public MARQUIS OF DALHOUSIE works. Nor were these either the whole or the most important of his improvements. He had intro- duced a postal system similar to that of Rowland Hill, by which letters were conveyed at merely one- sixteenth of their former charge; he had improved the training appointed for holders of civil offices; and he had introduced improvements into education and prison discipline, and into the organization of the legislative council. To these and other innovations of a similar character, he alluded as proofs of the wisdom and beneficial character of his government as the highest benefits bestowed by conquerors upon conquered provinces, in lieu of that liberty which they knew not how to use. This incessant working of an iron will within a naturally delicate constitution had impaired his health, for the recovery of which he went to the mountains; but in vain. While in this enfeebled state he had sent his wife, also an invalid, to Britain, in 1853; but she died on the voyage, and the first intimation he received of her death was from hearing the news-boys shouting the notice in the streets of Calcutta. It was a heavy blow added to sickness; and although he continued to hold on to his duties, it was in doubt whether he should be able to endure a voyage homeward, or even survive in India until a successor had arrived. While Lord Dalhousie was in this pitiable condi- tion, he was unexpectedly summoned to the most difficult and obnoxious task that had ever yet occurred in his administration. A ravenous appetite for the acquisition of empire in India had been increased by late gratifications, until it had become a sort of disease, and the home authorities had resolved that the King of Oude should be deposed, and hi-- territory annexed to our Anglo-Indian empire. It was a determination as impolitic as it was unjust. The kingdom of Oude was still free; its king and court were recognized as lawful authorities; and the coun- try was strong in castles and a brave population, who, like the ancient Highlanders of Scotland, were ruled by their chiefs embattled among their moun- tain fortresses. It was from the natives of Oude, also, that the army of our Bengal presidency was chiefly recruited, and whom the deed might trans- form into dangerous and irreconcilable enemies. Even the native princes were astounded at the ini- quity ami danger of such a barefaced purpose. It was a peculiarly trying difficulty to Lord Dalhousie, and he knew the disgrace which it would entail upon his character and the history of his rule. He might also transfer upon his successorthe performance of the deed, with all its obloquy and danger. Hut strong in the sense of duty to his own country and the office he held, he would not shrink from such a trying responsibility; and feeling that the task would be too great for a successor still new to office and the country, he offered to remain in India until it was completed. It was a joyful intimation to the home government, who knew none so fit for the task as the Larl of Dalhousie; and from his energy, abilities, and experience of India and its politics, they had no apprehension of failure. How the annexation of Oude was accomplished, and at what a price, the mutiny of India is a terrible memorial. Lord Canning arrived at Calcutta a; governor- general in February, [S56, when his predecessor was all but exhausted by his exertions; and on the loth of March I Jalhousie left Calcutta, after bidding a sad farewell to a deputation of the 'principal inhabitants. On arriving in Britain, the situation ot prime min- ister was supposed by many ot his friends to be awaiting him; but, instead ot indulging in such dreams of ambition, lie retired to hi-- native home, in quest of the repose which he ?o greatly needed,, ALEXANDER DALRYMPLE. 427 even though it should be in the grave. Nor had his distinguished services the while been forgot. In 1849, when the Punjab had been annexed to our Indian empire, he was raised to an English peerage by the title of Marquis of Dalhousie, of Dalhousie Castle and of the Punjab ; and in iS;2 he was appointed Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, on the death of the Duke of Wellington, who held that office. The marquis was married in iS}6 to Lady Susan Gcorgina, eldest daughter of the Marquis of Tweeddale, by whom he had two daughters, l.i.t no sons; and in default of male issue, hi-, earldom de- volved on Lord Panmure, who also inherits the ancestral estate of Dalhousie. it-. housic Castle, the place of his birth, that the Marquis ot Dalhousie died, 0:1 the 19th Decemlx-r, I premature age of forty-eight year-. DALRYMPLE, Ai.kwndi.k. This hydro- grapher and voluminous writer was the son , I Sir James Dalrymple, Bart., of Thirles, and v. seventh son of sixteen children by one mother, lie was born at New Thirles, near Edinburgh, the seat of his father, on the 24th of July, 1730. His eldest brother was Sir David Dalrymple, better known by his judicial title of Lord Hades, and hi writings in Scottish history and antiquities. At an early age Alexander was taught geography by his father — not, however, according to the dry routine of learning the names of kingdoms, capitals, cities by rote, but by showing him their places on the maps, and teaching him whatever was worthy of notice in their form and situation; and to this was probably owing the direction of Alexander's I by which he was subsequently distingui>h< I. < )ther- wise, his education, owing chiefly to the 1 troubles of the period, was very limited, and finished before he was fourteen years of age; so that, i a competent knowledge of Latin, all he afterwards learned was owing to his own application. Bel :< he had attained his sixteenth year he- went out to India as a writer in the company's «.ervia . of the Last Indies being decided by readin I'oya^vs, and a novel of the period ( son. As the chief qualifications of s pointment at that time were writing and ing, in which Alexander Dalrymple w he was first put under the instrit 1 store- keeper, from whom lie learne i little or 1 having soon been removed, into the secretary's office, he there fell under the notice of Lor.': I'igot. the r.ew governor of Madras, who, perceiv ng wrote a very bad hand, kindly gave him ii.-' penman-hip, in which the youth mad< ficiency, that his lordship often mi.-toi k hi- • writing for hi- own. "To this : . . the pupil in his autobiography, ''the ; some measure indebted for whatever ex is in the writing to the • Alexander Dalrymple." Another e.\> :.: whom he had at this time, was Mr. ' '■ . . tinguished historian, who was , 1 th;- ; her of council and its act I - ; note written to him by Mr. Da!r\:i ceived such a fav< 1 • ' ' he propose i to h ive hii taut, and put him thr ugh a quality him f >r this imt run! tion in Dalrymple's beha'.i ha\ • .- :r>-, Mr. ( Irme gave him the 1 : ' '■■ - '■ library, and among its rare books' the di-a] m for his Dalrvnq Ie had e:Ucrta;ne 1 -udi a h.v.: I •::.: 4 2S ALEXANDER DALRYMPLE. that he refused to study its language; but having now become wiser, and finding Bouvefs Voyage in Mr. Orme's library, he applied himself to the book without a master, and with the aid of a dictionary persevered in his task until he had translated the whole work. While he was employed in the secretary's office, Dalrymple had occasion to examine the old records, and among these he found papers illustrative of the great importance of the commerce of the islands in the Eastern Archipelago to the wealth and prosperity of our Anglo-Indian empire. To recover those islands and establish that commerce, was now the great object of his enterprise; and notwithstanding his prospect of succeeding to the secretaryship, and the dissuasions of his patron Lord Pigot, he em- barked on a voyage to these islands on the 22d of April, 1759. As proofs of his energy in the pursuit, and his characteristic perseverance, Dalrymple dur- ing this voyage received his first nautical tuition from the Hon. Thomas Howe, an able navigator, and captain of the Winchelsea, whose ship accom- panied, during a part of the voyage, the Cnddalore, in which Dalrymple had embarked. Finding also a col- lection of Spanish histories of the Philippine Islands, he acquired Spanish without a teacher, as he had done the French language, that he might master fheir contents. Furnished with secret instructions, and a document insuring him of a share in the profits of this adventure, Mr. Dalrymple first visited Sooloo, with the sultan of which he established a commer- cial treaty highly advantageous to the East India Company. Soon afterwards, however, the political affairs of that place underwent such alterations, that no benefit resulted from the enterprise. In the meantime, Dalrymple, in January, 1762, returned from his eastern voyage. In May, the same year, he returned to Sooloo in the London, a packet newly arrived from England, as its captain, with a proper cargo, and a guard of fifteen sepoys; but although he re-established the friendly understanding between the country and the India Company, unfortunate circumstances again interposed to render it ineffec- tual. Having obtained a grant of the island of Balambang for the East India Company, he took possession of it in their name on the 23d of January, 1763, on his homeward voyage to Madras. As it appeared both to him and his friends that the suc- cess of the Anglo-Indian government, in their inter- course with the eastern islands, would depend on the court of directors in London receiving full in- formation on the subject, Dalrymple resolved to pro- ceed to England for the purpose. In consequence of this decision it was resolved by the president and council of Madras that he should go by the way of China, taking Sooloo in his voyage, and endeavour to open up in it communications anew; and there ac- cordingly he landed, but only for twelve days, dur- ing which nothing important for the purposes of commerce could be effected. He obtained, however, for the East India Company a grant of the north end of Borneo, and south end of Palawan, with the intermediate islands. Sailing thence to Manilla, he there found the old Sultan of Sooloo, who had escaped from the Spaniards, and placed himself under British protection. Dalrymple was easily induced to carry back the dethroned sovereign, and reinstate him in his dominions, and obtained in return a grant to the East India Company of the northern part of Borneo. Having thus secured depots for the commerce with the East India Islands, Dal- rymple proceeded to London, and submitted his plans to the board of directors; but the administra- tion of the company's affairs having passed into other hands, he was deprived of the co-operation of those influential friends by whom he hoped his measures would have been carried out. The advantages which would have been derived not only by the East Com- pany, but by Britain at large, from such an establish- ment in the eastern islands, were fully detailed in a pamphlet which he published, entitled, A Plan for extending the Commerce of this Kingdom, and of the East India Company, by an Establishment at Batam- bang. This pamphlet, although printed in 1769, was not published till 1771. Disappointments, which, like misfortunes, seldom come singly, now crowded upon the bold and ta- lented projector. After his commercial speculation, in which so much labour and energy were expended, had been set aside, a movement was made by the friends of Dalrymple for the establishment of a hydrographical office in this country, to the superinten- dence of which he should be appointed, with a salary of ,£500 per annum. But although the negotiation went on so prosperously that the situation was pro- mised to him, the appointment did not follow. Afterwards, having communicated his collection of papers on discoveries in the south seas, which had been a favourite subject of Dalrymple's study, the secretary of state to whom they were presented ex- pressed his regret that he had not seen them sooner, as the appointment was already filled up. Some time after, when the Royal Society proposed to send persons to observe the transit of Venus in 1769, Dalrymple was thought of as fit for such a task, and he was commissioned by the admiralty to examine two vessels that were to be purchased for that espe- cial service. But, by a change of the plan, a naval officer was appointed to command the vessel, with joint authority in the expedition; and Dalrymple, who was aware of the danger of divided councils in such an enterprise, declined to set out on that foot- ing. One appointment, however, which gave him the highest satisfaction of any, was destined, by its failure, to be the worst affliction of all. The court of India directors had appointed him chief of Balam- bang, and commander of the ship Britannia; and thus employed in his favourite commercial scheme, he might have been consoled in his eastern island for the failure of his hopes in England. But his commission was superseded, and an incompetent person was placed in his room. In consequence of the dissatisfaction of the directors with that func- tionary, they resolved to send a supervisor to Balam- bang, and in this case Dalrymple offered his services, to redeem the expedition from destruction. He also offered his services free of any present remuneration, except defraying his expenses, and that a small por- tion of the clear profits of the establishment should be granted to him and his heirs. This liberal offer, instead of being at once accepted, was referred by the directors to a committee of correspondence to examine and report. Whatever report they made, if any, is unknown; but the capture of Balambang soon afterwards, by some Sooloo freebooters, made the services of the committee superfluous. From the time of his return to England in I7°5> Dalrymple had been almost constantly engaged in collecting and arranging materials for a full exposi- tion of the importance of the eastern islands and south seas, and was encouraged by the court of directors to publish various charts, &c. He also took every occasion to keep up his claim on the Madras establishment, and on the appointment of his patron, Lord Pigot, to be governor of Fort St. George, in 1775, he was reinstated in the service of the East India Company, and was nominated to be one of the committee of circuit. He accordingly ALEXANDER DALRYMPLE - went out to Madras, and entered upon the duties of his office, until 1777, when he was recalled, with others, under a resolution of the general court to have their conduct inquired into; but nothing appears to have resulted from the inquiry. Two years after- wards he was appointed hydrographer to the East India Company, and in 1795, when the Admiralty established a similar office, Alexander Dalrymple was judged the fittest person to hold it. Of his talent, indeed, as a hydrographer, the following valuable testimony was given by the distinguished Admiral Kempenfelt, in a letter which he wrote to Dalrymple: — "I have received your very valuable charts for particular parts of the East Indies: what an infinite deal of pains and time you must have bestowed to form such a numerous collection! It seems an Herculean labour; but it is a proof what genius joined with industry is capable of. However, you have the pleasing reflection that you have suc- cessfully laboured for the public good, the good of navigation, and that your memory will live forever." Although he was already hydrographer to the East India Company, the court of directors made no objection to his holding the same office for the Admiralty, judging rightly that the two offices were not incompatible, but rather parts of each other; and accordingly, Alexander Dalrymple accepted the government appointment. The appointment, in- deed, was only a tardy act of justice, as when the office of hydrographer to the Admiralty had been proposed nineteen years earlier, it had been promised to Dalrymple. In this arduous and responsible situation he con- tinued till 1808, when the Admiralty called for his resignation on the ground that he was superannuated. He was now in the seventy-first year of his age, and might be supposed too old for the duties of his office; but Dalrymple, with that habitual energy of purpose which in old age often hardens into ob- stinacy, refused to give in his resignation. He probably thought, like the Bishop of Grenada, that he had never been so active, so fit for his duties, and efficient as at present, although he had already finished the usual date assigned to the life of man. In consequence of his refusal to resign, he was dis- missed, and his death, which occurred only a month after (June 19, 1S0S), maybe supposed to have been hastened by vexation at his dismissal. He left a large library, which was especially rich in works on navigation and geography; and of these the Ad- miralty purchased the most select, while the others were disposed of by auction. I lis own works were numerous, amounting to fifty-nine volumes and tracts; but many of them were of a personal and political character, and therefore were soon forgot. Of those that were more important, and connected with his own scientific pursuits, we can merely select the titles of the following: — Account of Discoveries in the South Pacific Ocean before 1764, Svo, 1764. Plan for extending the Commerce of litis Kingdom, and of the East India Company, bv an Establish- ment at Palambangan, 1771. Historical Co! lection of South Set Voyages, 2 vols. 4to, 1770 1. Proposi- tion of a Peneiolent Voyage to introduce Corn, £-■■<-., into .Yeio Zealand, 4to. 1771. Proposition for Print- ing, bv Subscription, lie MS. Voyages and Travels in the British Museum, 4to, 1773. An His. Relation of the sr.-eral Expeditions "from Port M to the Islands off the West Coast or Sumatra, 4 to. 1 775. " Collection of I Wages, chiefly in the South Atlantic Ocean, from the original MS., by Dr. Hallev, M. Bouvet, \c. ; with a Preface concerning a Voyage of Discovery proposed to be undertaken by Alexander Dalrymi le at his owncxper.se; I etlers SIR DAVID DALRYMPLE. 429 to Lord North on the subject, and Plan of a Re- publican Colony, "4to, 1775. " Plan for Promoting the Pur Trade, and securing it to this Country, bv uniting the Operations of the Hast India and Hud- son's Bay Companies," 4to, 1789. "An Historical Journal of the Expedition, by Sea and Land, to the North of California in 176S, 1769, and 1 770, when Spanish Establishments were tir-.t made at San Diego and Monterey; translated from the Spanish MS., by William Rcvely, Esq.; to which is added, Translation of Cabrera Bueno's Description of the Coast of California, and an Extract from the MS. Journal of M. Sauvagne le Muet, 1714," folio, 1790. A Treatise of Practical Navigation. (Of this work only three chapters were printed.) DALRYMPLE, Sir David, a celebrated Scotch judge and antiquary, was born at Edinburgh, on the 28th of October, 1726. His father was Sir James Dalrymple, of Hailes, Bart., and his mother. Lady Christian Hamilton, a daughter of the Karl of Had- dington. His grandfather, who wa- lord-advocate for Scotland during the reign of George I., was the youngest son of the first Lord Stair, and distinguished for ability even among the members of his own able family; and his father, Sir James, had the auditor- ship of the exchequer bestowed upon him for life. Sir David Dalrymple was sent to be educated at Eton, where he was eminently distinguished for ability and general good conduct. At this seminary he acquired, with a competent share of classical learning, a line classical taste and a partiality for English manners and customs, which marked through life both his public and private conduct. From Eton he returned to Edinburgh, wdiere he went through the usual course at the university; and afterwards went to Utrecht, where he prosecuted the study of the civil law, till the suppression of the rebellion in the year 1746, when he returned to his native country. Fn m the sobriety of his character, with his ardour ami diligence in prosecuting whatever subject arrested his attention, the highest hopes of his future eminence were now entertained by his friends. Nor were these hopes disappointed; although circumstances led him into studies not altogether such as he ■ have pursued, had he been left to the bent own genius. The study of antiquities and the belles- lettres was the most congenial to his own mind, an 1 in both he was eminently fitted to excel; but :i m tlie state of hi- affairs on the death of his father, \vh 1 left a large family and an estate deeply encuml he found it necessary to adopt the law as a ] 1 sion, that he might be able to meet the den which lay against the family inheritance, and make suitable provision for those dependent on him. He accordingly made his appearance a- an advocate, or, as it is technically expressed, was called to the Scottish bar, in the year 1748. Here, li though lie had considerable practice, his success \\. - not equal to the sanguine expectations o| his lri< : In the science of law few men were nu re t\; than Sir David Dalrymple. and in ] he was surpassed by no one of hi- o>i ' but he had certain peculiarities, ; in his nature, strengthened b\ >Ui by habit, that impeded hi- pmgre-. and his efforts less effective than tl far his inferiors in natural ai From natural mede-ty and ^ : ta-U he : sovereign o ntenq t f -r veri periods', and e\ rythi declamation, for ex ' ' : -'-': unqualified— his voice b in- ;':'.- 11:11:1 aceful. 1:'. *..:>-. ' ■ . I 1 430 SIR DAVID DALRYMPLE. pleadings, which were always addressed to the judg- ment, never to the passions, often fell short of those of his opponents, who, possessing less enlarged views of their subject, but having higher rhetorical powers, and being less fastidious in the choice of words, cap- tivated their auditors by the breadth of their irony and the sweeping rotundity of their periods. Nor did his memorials, though classically written, and replete with valuable matter, at all times meet with the approbation of the court, which was disposed at times to find fault with their brevity, and some- times with the extreme attention they manifested to the minutiae of forms, in which it was alleged he concealed the merits of the case. On points, how- ever, which interested his feelings, or which involved the interests of truth and virtue, he lost sight of the intricacies of form; his language became glowing, and his arguments unanswerable. No advocate of his own standing was at the time more truly respect- able; and he was often employed as advocate-depute, which gave him frequent opportunities of manifest- ing that candour of heart and tenderness of disposi- tion, which were at all times striking features of his character, and which so well become the prosecutor in a criminal court. Going the western circuit on one occasion, in this capacity, he came to the town of Stirling, where, the first day of the court, he was in no haste to bring on the business; and being met by a brother of the bar, was accosted with the ques- tion, why there was no trial this forenoon. "There are," said Sir David, "some unhappy culprits to lie tried for their lives, and therefore it is proper they have time to confer for a little with their men of law." ''That is of very little consequence," said the oilier. ''Last year I came to visit Lord Kaimes when he was here on the circuit, and he appointed me counsel for a man accused of a rape. Though I had very little time to prepare, yet I made a decent speech." "Pray, sir," said Sir David, "was your client acquitted or condemned?" "O," replied the other, "most unjustly condemned." "That, sir," said the depute-advocate, "is no good argument for hurrying on trials." 1 laving practised at the bar with increasing reputa- tion for eighteen years, Sir David Dalrymple was, with the warmest approbation of the public, ap- pointed one of the judges of the Court of Session, in the year 1766. He took his seat on the bench with the usual formalities, by the title of Lord Hailes, tiie designation by which he is generally known among the learned throughout Europe. This was a situation which it was admitted on all hands that Sir David Dalrymple was admirably calculated to fill. Ili—. unwearied assiduity in sifting dark and in- tricate matters to the bottom was well known, and his manner of expression, elegant and concise, was admirabh suited to the chair of authority. That his legal oprnions had always been found to be sound, was also generally believed; yet it has been candidly admitted, that he was, as a judge, neither so useful nor so highly venerated as the extent of his know- ledge and his unquestioned integrity led hi- friends to expect. The same minute attention to forms, which had in some degree impeded hi- progress at the bar, accompanied him to the bench, and excited sometimes the merriment of lighter minds. It is to be noticed, however, that, too little regard ha- been, on some occasions, in the very venerable Court of Session, paid to forms; and that form-, apparently trilling, have seldom, in legal proceedings, been dis- regarded, without in some degree affecting the in- terestsof truth and justice. It hasalso been remarked, that such was the opinion which the other judges entertained of the accuracv, diligence, and dignified character of Lord Hailes, that, in the absence of the lord-president, he was almost always placed in the chair. After having acted as a lord of session for ten years, Lord Hailes was, in the year 1776, nomi- nated one of the lords of justiciary, in which capacity- he commanded the respect of all men. Fully im- pressed with a sense of the importance of his office in the criminal court, all his singularities seemed to forsake him. Before the time of Hailes, it had been too much the case in the Scottish criminal courts for the judge to throw all the weight of his influence into the scale of the crown. Lord Hailes, imitating the judges of England, threw his into the scale of the prisoner, especially when the king's counsel seemed to be overpowering, or when there was any particular intricacy in the case. It is to be regretted that, in almost all of our courts of justice, oaths arc- administered in a manner highly indecorous, tending rather to derogate from the importance of that most solemn act. In this respect Lord Hailes was the very model of perfection. Rising slowly from his seat, with a gravity peculiarly his own, he pro- nounced the welds in a manner so serious as to impress the most profligate mind with the convic- tion that he was himself awed with the immediate presence of that awful Majesty to whom the appeal was made. When the witness was young, or appeared to be ignorant, his lordship was careful, before putting the oath, to point out its nature and obligations in a manner the most perspicuous and affecting. It is perhaps impossible for human vigi- lance or sagacity altogether to prevent perjury in courts of justice; but he was a villain of no common order that could perjure himself in the presence of Lord Hailes. In all doubtful cases it was his lord- ship's invariable practice to lean to the side of mercy; and when it became his painful duty to pass sentence of death upon convicted criminals, he did so in a strain so pious and so pathetic, as often to overwhelm in a ilood of tears the promiscuous multitudes that arc wont to be assembled on such occasions. In the discharge of this painful part of his duty, Lord Hailes may have been equalled, but he was certainly, in this country at least, never surpassed. While Lord Hailes was thus diligent in the dis- charge of the public duties of his high place, he was, in those hours which most men find it necessary to devote to rest and recreation, producing works upon all manner of subjects, exceeding in number, ami surpassing in value, those of man}' men whose lives have been wholly devoted to literature. < )f these, as they are in few hands, though some of them at least are exceedingly curious and highly interesting, we shall present the reader with such notices as our limits will permit, in the order in which they were pub- lished. His first work seems to have been Sacred /Wins, a Collection of Translations and Paraphrases from the Holy Serif- •lares by various Authors, Edin- burgh, 1 75 1 , 121110, dedicated to Charles Lord Hope, with a preface of ten pages. The next was The Wisdom of Solomon, Wisdom of Jesus, the Son oj Sirach or Pedes iaslicus, from the Apocrypha, i2nio, Edinburgh, 1755, without preface or commentary. In the year following, 1756, he published, in 121110, "'So/col Discourses, by John Smith, late fellow of Ouecn's College, Cambridge, with a preface, many quotations from the learned languages translated, and note-, added, containing allusions to ancient mytho- logy, and to the erroneous philosophy which pre- vailed in the days of the author,'' tVc. &c. Next year, 1757, he republished, with note-, "A Discourse of the Unnatural and Vile Conspiracy attempted by jfohn Earl of (Jcnvrie, and his h'ro/her, against his Majesty's Sacred Person, at St. Johnslouu, 5th of SIR DAVID DALRYMPLE. 43' August, I Coo," l2mo. Two vessels, the Betsey Cunningham, and the Leith packet Pitcairn, from London to Leith, being wrecked on the shore be- tween Dunbar and North Berwick, in the month of October, 1701, and pillaged by the country people, as was too often done on all the coasts of Britain, and is sometimes done to this day, Sir David pub- lished a sermon, which might have been preached in Fast Lothian on the 25th day of October, 1761: Ac. xxvii. 1, 2, "The barbarous people showed us no little kindness." This is an admirable discourse, deeply affecting, and calculated in a particular manner to carry conviction to the offenders. In 1762 he published from the press of the Foulises, Glasgow, "Memorials and Letters relating to the History of Britain in the Reign of James I. of England, from a Collection in the Advocates' Library, by Balfour of Denmyln, with a Preface and a few Notes." This is an exceedingly curious little volume, throwing much light on the character of the British Solomon and his sapient courtiers. In 1765 he published, from the same press, the works of the ever memorable Mr. John Hailes of Eaton, now first collected to- gether, in three volumes, with a short preface, and a (ledication to Bishop Warburton, the edition said to be undertaken with his approbation. The same year he published a specimen of a book entitled "Ane Compendious Booke of Godly and Spiritual Sings, collectit out of sundrie parts of Scripture, with sundrie of other Ballotis changed out of Pro- phane Sangs for avoyding of Sin and I larlotrie," &c. This was printed at Edinburgh, in 121110, and was the first introduction of that singular performance to the notice of modern readers. In 1766 he published at Glasgow, "Memorials and Loiters Relating to the History of Britain in the Reign of Charles I., pub- lished from the originals, collected by Mr. Robert \V' 1 Irow, the historian of the sufferings of the Church of Scotland."' This is a very curious performance; and it was followed, the .same year, by one per- haps still more so- an account of the preservation of King Charles II. after the battle of Worcester, drawn up by himself; to which are added his letters to several persons. The same year he published the secret correspondence between Sir Robert Cecil and James VI. ; and the year follow- ing, li A Catalogue of the Lords of Session, from the institution of the College of Justice, in the year 1532, with historical notes. The private correspondence of Dr. Francis Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester, and his friends in 1 725, was published by Lord Hailes in 176S 69. An examination of -some of the argu- ments for the high antiquity of Regiam Maj, and an inquiry into the authenticity of the Leges Mal- colm/'. Also, Historical Memoirs concerning the Provincial Councils of ' i CI rgy, from the ' '/tnts to the lira of the Reformation. At the same time he published, Canons of the Church of Scotland, drawn up in the Provincial C ■■ I'ert'i v.D. [242 ai/d 1200. In 17-0 he lied Ancient S irformance was " ] " 7 ( 'ase -f I: . ( 'lain/. r. Ni Bishop of Bristol. This v ! of Justin Martyr and his eon Dionysius, Bishop of Alexandria, to 1 .. . i of Antioch; the trial ; : 11 of l'i .. I p of Torroci nn 11 S] in, Augurius and Eulogius; th 111 These are all new!) trai Lord 1! ..'.■ Ruinart, Eusi 1 ius, Ami . \ . volume display a 1 tiquity, sense and. detecting intci ! .and. fervent and enlighl ments . . . ( iod, against the malicious sarcn ■ :..- ■ . M ' The third volume :•. 1 7 - . Thomas Balgray. D.D. 1; o n: 1: - tl martyr- 1 if 1 'alestine in the i from Euscbius. In tl volume Gibl partiality and mi • irily expi -ed. In 17S1 1 ] ' : • ■ . •' mil < >eta\ ius. a ( with his friend to bei : < " . 1'. 17S2 he ::-.•;;. I . •". I '. 1 of the : :.«'..-.. 1 was d ) ':- 1 ■' ' ■ ' ' ' ■ -" •• . 1 : I . ' ■ ' ' bv critical note.-! In 17^3 : .e | ■ '..-'..A I r.t. ,- SIR DAVID DALRYMPLE. tions concerning the Antiquity of the Christian Church, inscribed to Dr. Halifax, Bishop of Gloucester. This small but highly original work consists of six chap- ters: 1st, of the conduct and character of Gallio; 2d, of the time at which the Christian religion be- came known at Rome; 3d, of the cause of the per- secution of the Christians under Nero, in which the hypothesis of Gibbon is examined; 4th, of the emi- nent heathens who are said by Gibbon to have con- temned Christianity, viz. Seneca, the Plinys elder and younger, Tacitus, Galen, Epictetus, Plutarch, and Marcus Antoninus (this chapter is particularly interesting to the admirer of heathen philosophers and heathen philosophy); 5th is an illustration of a conjecture of Gibbon respecting the silence of Dion Cassius concerning the Christians; and the 6th treats of the circumstances respecting Christianity that are to be found in the Augustan history. There can scarcely be a doubt, that all these works treating of the early ages of Christianity, were suggested by the misrepresentations of Gibbon, and were they circu- lated as widely as Gibbon's work, would be found a complete antidote. His lordship, however, was not satisfied with this indirect mode of defence, and, in 17S6, published An Inquiry into the Secondary Causes which Mr. Gibbon has Assigned for the Rapid Gro-vth of Christianity; in which he has most triumphantly set aside his conclusions. This performance he gratefully and affectionately inscribed to Richard Hurd, Bishop of Worcester. The same year his lordship published sketches of the lives of John Barclay; of John Hamilton, a secular priest; of Sir James Ramsay, a general officer in the army of Gus- tavus Adolphus, Ring of Sweden; of George Leslie, a Capuchin friar; and of Mark Alexander Boyd. These lives were written and published as a specimen of the manner in which a Biographica Scotica might be executed, and we do not know that he proceeded any further with the design. In 1788 he published, from her original MSS., the Opinions of Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, with notes, corrective of her ladyship's splenetic humour; and, in 1790, he translated and published, with notes and illustrations, The Address of Q. Sept. Terlullian to Scapula Tcr- tullus, Pro-consul of Africa. This address contains many particulars relating to the church after the third century, and in the notes some strange inac- curacies of Mr. Gibbon are detected. This was the last work which Lord Hailes lived to publish. His constitution had been long in an enfeebled state, which so much diligence in study must have tended to increase. He continued, how- ever, to prosecute his studies, and to attend his duty on the bench till within three days of his death, which happened on the 29th of November, 1792, in the sixty-sixth year of his age. His lordship was twice married. By his first wife, Anne Brown, only daughter of Lord Coalston, one of the judges of the Court of Session, he left issue one daughter, who inherited his estate. By his second wife, Helen Ferguson, youngest daughter of Lord Kilkerran, he left also issue, one daughter. Having no male issue, his baronetcy descended to his nephew. Of the character of Lord Hailes, there can be but one opinion. As an able lawyer and an upright judge, he stands eminently conspicuous in an age and a country where such characters were not rare; and when the exercise of such qualities, from their super- abundance, scarcely could merit praise. As a man of general erudition he stands, if we except War- burton, almost without a rival in the age he lived in. His skill in classical learning, the belles-lettres, and historical antiquities, especially those of his own country, have been universally admitted; and Lad popularity been his intention, as it was of too many of his contemporaries, there cannot be a doubt but that he could have made himself the most shining meteor among them. Instead, however, of fixing upon subjects that might interest the frivolous, or draw upon him the smiles of the fashionable and the gay, he sedulously devoted his studies to such sub- jects as he thought particularly called for by the circumstances of the times, and with which all would be benefited by becoming acquainted. A shallow spirit of scepticism was abroad, which, aided by ignorance and misrepresentation, was threatening to become universal, and to change the sober and meditative character of Britons into frothy petulance and flippant vanity. This he attempted to meet by sober investigations into the truth of the facts that had been so confidently assumed respecting the early history of Christianity, by which he certainly left his opponents without the shadow of an excuse for persisting in their conclusions, having proved to a demonstration that their premises were false. Whe- ther he might not have done this in a more popular form we cannot now stay to inquire into. We certainly think the mode he adopted that which was best calculated to cut off the cavilling of adversaries, and to carry conviction to the mind of the reader; and to those who wish to treat the subject in a more popular form, his lordship has furnished abundant materials. His various republications of the ancient poetry of Scotland, and the publication of original letters regarding her history and manners, while they throw much light upon the history of the coun- try and the domestic economy of the times to which they relate, present his lordship in a most amiable point of view; and, while we admire the scholar and the philosopher, we cannot cease to venerate and to love the man. Of his Annals we have already spoken. Though necessarily written in a close and severe style, they have long ago risen to a pitch of popularity far beyond many works that took a more immediate hold of the public mind; and we have no doubt that ages will only add to their value. In- deed, he has left nothing to be done for the periods that came under his review. His inquiry into the secondary causes which Gibbon has assigned for the rapid progress of Christianity, is also a masterpiece of its kind, displaying great critical acumen, close reasoning, and great zeal for truth, without the smallest particle of that rancour which too often runs through theological controversy. With all his virtues and all his acquirements, joined to the finest natural abilities, Lord Hailes was not one of those who could boast of the large sums he received fir the copyright of his works. He was most com- monly his own publisher; and, as is generally the case in such circumstances, the circulation of his writings was, with a few exceptions, confined to the particular friends and acquaintances whom he had drawn around him. The consequence is, that there are many of them no longer to be met with, being wholly confined to the cabinets of the curious. It would be a meritorious work in these days of literary enterprise, and we cannot doubt that an intelligent and spirited publisher might find it a profitable speculation, to publish a neat, cheap, and uniform edition of his multifarious publications. Lord I lailes possessed a natural taste for retirement. The slate of his affairs, at a most important period of his life, rendered it necessary for him, and the habit grew upon him as he advanced in years. His constitution, of which he was careful, as well as his principles and habits, rendered him averse to every kind of dissipa- tion. After he was constituted a judge, he considered it unbecoming his character to mingle much with JAMES DALRVMPLE. 433 the fashionable and the gay world. When he chose to unbend his mind, therefore, it was in the society of a few easy friends, whom he had selected as much on account of their moral and religious worth, as fur their genius or learning. With that constellation of men of genius and science which illuminated Edin- burgh atthat period, Lord Hailes had much agreeable and profitable conversation; but it was impossible for friendship or close intimacy to subsist between men who thought so differently as he and the most of them did upon the most important of all subjects. Though a Whig, and strongly attached to the best principles of the Revolution, he took no part in the broils, civil or ecclesiastical, which agitated the country in the first period of the reign of George III. Some of these he regarded as frivolous, and others as mischievous, and from conscience could not allow himself to sympathize with them. Conscious at all times of the dignity and importance of the high office which he held, he never departed from the decorum becoming that reverend character. This decorum it cost him no effort to support, because he acted from principle improved into a daily sentiment of the heart. Affectionate to his family and rela- tions, simple and mild in his manners, pure in his morals, enlightened and entertaining in his conversa- tion, he left society only to regret, that devoted as he was to more important employments, he had so little time to spare for intercourse with them. DALRYMPLE, James, Viscount Stair, an emi- nent lawyer and statesman, and the progenitor of many distinguished persons, was born at Drum- murchie, in the parish of Barr, Ayrshire, in the month of May, 1619. His father, who bore the same name, was proprietor of the small estate of Stair in that county, which on his death in 1624 fell to his son. James Dalrymple received his education at the parish school of Mauchline and the university of Glasgow, and at an early age entered the army raised in Scotland to repel the religious innovations of Charles I. In 1641, when he had attained a captaincy in the Earl of Glencairn's regi- ment, he became a competitor for the chair of philosophy at Glasgow, and gained it against several rivals. Former writers have made a wonder of his appearing at this competition in his military dress of buff and scarlet, and also at his retaining his com- mission as captain for some time after assuming the philosophy chair. The truth is, he and his brethren in arms could hardly be considered as soldiers, but rather as civilians taking up arms fur a temporary purpose; and, by the same enthusiasm, even clergy- men appeared occasionally with sword and pistol. Dalrymple held this chair for six years, during which he employed much of his time in the study of civil law, which was not then taught publicly in Scotland. His mind being thus turned to the law as a profes- sion, he resigned his chair in 1647, and in the ensuing year became an advocate at the Scottish bar. His abilities soon procured him both legal and political distinction. In 1649 he was appointed secretary to the commissioners who were sent by the Scottish parliament to treat with Charles II., then an exile in Holland, for his return to his native dominions. He held the same office in the more successful mis- sion of 1650; and we are told that, on this occasion, he recommended himself to the king by his " ties, sincerity, and moderation." 1 After a short residence in Holland, during which he saw a number of the lenrned men of that country, he returned to .Scotland, and was one of two persons sent by the 1 Forbes' 7 parliament to attend the king at his landing. In the Cromwellian modification of the Court of Session, he- was, in 1657, appointed one of the "commissioners for administration of justice," chiefly upon the recom- mendation of General Monk, who thus characterized him in a letter to the protector — "a very honest man, a good lawier, and one of a considerable estate." It was not, however, without great difficulty that he was prevailed upon to accept office under the government of Cromwell. lie took the earliest opportunity, after the Restoration, of paying hi* respects to the king, who knighted him, and nomin- ated him one of the new judges. From tin-, office, however, he retired in 1C63, in order to avoid taking "the declaration" — an oath abjuring the right to take up arms against the king. Next year, on the personal solicitation of the king, he resumed his duties, with only a general declaration of his aver- sion to any measures hostile to his majesty's just rights and prerogatives, the king granting him a sanction in writing for this evasion of the law. ( >n this occasion Charles conferred upon him the title of a baronet. In 1671 he succeeded Gilmour of Craig- millcr as lord-president, and immediately availed himself of the situation to effect some important improvements in the system of judicature. He also, at this time, employed his leisure hours in recording the decisions of the court. As a member of the privy council he was invariably the advocate, though not always successfully, of moderate measures, and he remonstrated as warmly as he durst against all who were of an opposite character. \\ hen the celebrated test-oath was under consideration, in 16S1, Dalrymple, for the purpose of confounding it altogether, suggested that John Knox's conl of faith should be sworn to as part of it. As this inculcated resistance to tyranny as a duty, he thought it would counterbalance the abjuration of that maxim contained in another part of the oath. The dis- crepancy passed unobserved, for not a bish parliament was so far acquainted with ecclesiastical history as to know 7 the contents of that confe However, inconsistent as it was, it was forced by the government down the throats of all persons in office, and thus became the occasion of much mi-- chief. Lord Stair himself refused to take it, and accordingly had to retire from his offices. Before this period he had prepared his celebrated work, 77/t' Institutions of the Law 0/ Scotland, which was now published. This work still continues to be the grand text-book of the Scottish lawyer. •"It is n< t without cause," says Mr. lirodie, in a late e "that the profound and luminous di-quisit; Lord Stair have commanded the general adm of Scottish lawyers. Having brought to the of jurisprudence a powerful and highly cultivate'! intellect, he was qualified to trace every rule to prin- ciple. Vet such was his sterling practical goo 1 sense, that he rarely allowed himself to be 1 away by theory — too frequently tin sophic mind- less endowed with this cai His philosophy and learning have •■-'■- i enrich jurisprudence with a work w ing the rules of law, clearly deve! ;- ' on which they are founded." Lord Stair lived for about a year a! seat in Wigtonshire, but e\] cutii m from the g< iven '. ' < >ctober, 16S2, to taki 1 absence he was ai ground- that some of hi- ' ' ' "- in the insurreeti< 'ii at V< 1 however, which v. .-.- his 1 ;rson from I! . 1 ■ . An . •■•-' "■; ■ - ■ . ■ jrtive. ; 434 JAMES DALRYMPLE JOHN DALRYMPLE. his retirement at Leyden he sent forth his Decisions, through the medium of the press at Edinburgh, the first volume appearing in 1684, and the second in 16S7. In 1686 he published at Leyden a Latin trea- tise of much originality, under the title of Physiologia Nova Expcrinuntalis. He also busied himself at this time in a work respecting the mutual obligations of the sovereign and his people, on which subject he entertained more liberal opinions than what were generally received in that age. This work, however, was never published. When the Prince of Orange was about to sail for Britain, Lord Stair requested to know what was the object of his expedition. The prince replied that it was not personal aggrandize- ment, but "the glory of God, and the security of the Protestant religion, then in imminent danger." The reply of Lord Stair was a strange mixture of the sub- lime and ludicrous. Taking off his wig, and exhibit- ing his bald head, he said, "Though I be now in the seventieth year of my age, I am willing to venture that (pointing to his head), my own and my children's fortune, in such an undertaking." He accordingly accompanied the prince, and was rewarded, after the settlement of affairs under William and Mary, with a reappointment to the presidency of the Court of Session, and a peerage under the title of Viscount Stair. Though thus restored to his country, and to more than his former honours, the latter years of this great man were not happy. He had never been the friend of the high-church party, and therefore he could expect no favour from that class of malcontents under the Revolution settlement. But the Presby- terian party, also, for which he had done and suffered so much, treated him with little respect, considering him too deeply concerned in the late oppressive and cruel system to be worthy of their confidence. Under these circumstances he breathed his last on the 25th of November, 1695, in the seventy-seventh year of his age, and was buried in the High Church of Edinburgh. Lord Stair had been married, in 1643, to Margaret Ross, co-heiress of the estate of Balneil, in Wigton- shire, by whom he had five sons and four daughters. The eldest son, John, having held office under James II., was, like his father, held in suspicion by the Presbyterian party; but, nevertheless, attained high office under the Revolution government. He was secretary of state for Scotland, and elevated to the rank of Earl of Stair in 1703. On his death, in 1707, he was succeeded in his title by the celebrated commander and diplomatist, John, second Earl of Stair. The junior branches of the family have pro- du • 1 fruit almost equally distinguished. Sir James Dalrymplc, the second son, Mas himself the author of Coll ret ions concerning Scottish History preceding the Death of David I., which appeared in 1705, and t lie grandfather of Sir John Dalrymplc, of Cranston, author of that excellent work, Memoirs of Great Britain and Ireland, from the Dissolution of the Last Parliament of Charles //., until the Sea Jiattle off La Ifogne, in two volumes 4to. The youngest son, Sir David, was the grandfather of Lord Ilailes and Alexander Dalrymplc, two persons already com- memorated in this work. Through these channels, and by the alliances of his daughters, the blood of Lord Stair now flows in most of the noble families in Scotland. The historical eminence of the family is only to be paralleled by the immense influence which it possessed for many years in this country — an influence hardly matched by that of thte 1 to more peaceful ] ursuits than his renowned ancestor-, he studied for the Sc >tti>h bar. and was admitted a member of the Faculty of Advocates in 1707. His favourite occupation, h iwever, instead of inclining to that of a barrister on the boards of the Parliament House, was to keep aloof from the din of wordy war, and take refuge among the crypts of the Advocates' Library, absorbed in the study of that valuable collection of MSS. connected with' Scottish history and antiquities for which the library is so dis- tinguished. The fruit of this was soon apparent; for two years had not elapsed after his enrolment as an advocate when he produced his fir^t work in quarto, entitled Fragments of Scottish History, con- taining, among other valuable matter, the "Diary <>f Robert Birrcll, burgess of Edinburgh, from 1532 to 1608." Little more than two years afterwards (in 1801), he published, in two volumes octavo, a ( lion of Scottish Poems of the Sixteenth Century, (if the labour he underwent in the task, and the dili- gence with which he discharged it, an estimate may be formed from the fact, that in preparing this collec- tion he had examined about 700 volumes of manu- scripts. None, however, but those who are conver- sant with this kind of literature can be fully aware of its difficulties, owing to the loose manner in which the Scottish poems of this period were transcribed, and the variety of readings, as well as amount of in- terpolated nonsense with which they are disfigured. For these two works he found a fitting publisher in Mr. Archibald Constable, at that time an antiquarian, and the friend of antiquarians, whose old-book shop at the Cross was the favourite haunt of those • guished men by whose publications he afterwards became a prince in the realms of literature. The next work of Mr. Graham Dalyell was a Tract chiefly relative to .Monastic Antiauitie . some Account of a Recent Search for the Reman: Scottish Kings interred in the Abbey of Dunfermline. This work, which appeared in 1S09, was the first of a series of four or five thin octavos, illustrative of our Scottish ecclesiastical records, which he issi various intervals; and the chartularies which he severally illustrated were those of the 1 Aberdeen and Murray, the abbey of Cambuski 1 the chapel-royal of Stirling, and the tret; - ry < f St. Anthony at Leith — the series having on till 1S2S. But this was not bi- as during the long interval he published . the Journal of Richard Bannatyne, the - amanuensis of John Knox; and another, tish Chronicle of Lindsay of Ritsc (tie. B> v literary divertisement amid.-t these lal national antiquities, Mr. Dalyell also pi 1S11, A',v;/<- Account of an Ancient Manuscript l Martial's Epigrams, which was ill an en- graving, and anecdotes explanatory of tl and customs of the Romans. Of the-.' - 1 l\ th :' copies were printed, six of them 1 ■■• A more important work than any ol tin and requiring a larger a well as wider research, was pu Mr. 1 in 1S34, under the title of An I. ■; Super '. Such a tit mates n< >t only the extent books the most trying to the pa: investigator, but also into tho- ■ ; ' he wa> compelled t and doubt, while he traced our : to their primitive home- in the f • :■.-•-' t < 1 upon the shi >res . A X : : and mi' he publi-h i v > th ■ ■'■■'■ This n-- : i \ . it is v : ■ ■■ ' ' lotes with ■:-...-•■ . " '■ indications either : the iecL-Ieness : '..:e : amy cl 43 6 THOMAS DALYELL. old age. The work possesses also the additional recommendation of a splendid quarto form and many excellent engravings, for he was not only an ardent lover of music, but a thorough judge of it as a science, and through life he had always affectionately turned to it as a relief from his more severe occupations. Besides those literary productions we have men- tioned, comprising an authorship of fifty years' dura- tion, Mr. Graham Dalyell published Observations on some Interesting Phenomena in Animal Physiology, exhibited by Several Species of Planar i<£, 8vo, 1814. Another work, which he published in 1847, m two splendid quartos, enriched with more than a hundred coloured plates drawn from the living subjects, was entitled, Rare and Remarkable Animals of Scotland, represented from Living Subjects, with Practical Obser- vations on their Nature. He was also the author of several articles in the Encyclopedia Britannica. From the foregoing brief notice some estimate may be formed of the literary character of Mr. Dalyell. An antiquary at a time when Scottish antiquarianism was little cultivated, his labours as well as his ex- ample gave a powerful impulse to that study, which soon became so widely diffused, and has been pro- ductive of such happy results. It is owing, indeed, to this spirit of inquiry that few histories of nations have been more effectually cleared from darkness, and purified from error, than that of Scotland, al- though few have undergone such a cruel process as that which was devised to annihilate it. But Mr. Dalyell was something more than an antiquary, al- though he stood in the front rank of the order; he was also an accomplished classical scholar, and well acquainted with mechanical science and natural his- tory, of which his writings are an abundant proof. Although as an author he was so prolific, his dili- gence and perseverance are the more to be admired when we remember that such was his fastidiousness in composition, that he would seldom commit his manuscript to the press until it had been re-written four or five times over. Sir John Graham Dalyell received the honour of knighthood by patent in 1836, and succeeded to the baronetcy of Binns by the death of his elder brother in 1S41. His own death occurred on the 7th of June, 185 1. As he was never married, he was suc- ceeded in his title and estates by his brother, Sir William Cunningham Cavendish Dalyell, com- mander in the royal navy. DALYELL, Thomas, an eminent cavalier officer, was the son of Thomas Dalyell, of Binns, in West Lothian, whom he succeeded in that property. The lairds of Binns arc understood to have been descended from the family afterwards ennobled under the title of Earl of Carnwath. The mother of the subject of this memoir was the Honourable fanet Bruce, daughter of the first Lord Bruce of Kinloss, a distinguished minister of James VI., and who, with the Earl of Marr, was chietly instrumental in securing the suc- cession of that monarch to the English crown. Thomas Dalyell, who is said to have been born about the year 1599, entered the service of Charles I., and had at one time the command of the town and garrison of Carrickfergus, where he was taken pri- soner by the rebels. He was so much attached to his master that, to testify his grief for his death, he never afterwards shaved his beard. In the army which Charles II. led from Scotland, in 1G51, he had the rank of major-general, in which capacity he fought at the battle of Worcester. Being there taken prisoner, he was committed to the Tower, and his estates were forfeited, and he was himself exempted from the general act of indemnity. However, he made his escape, and seems to have gone abroad, whence he returned, and landed with some royalists in the north of Scotland, in March, 1654. Supported by a small party, he took possession of the castle of Skelko, and assisted in the exertions then made for the restoration of Charles, who soon afterwards transmitted the following testimony of his approba- tion: — "Tom Dalyell, Though I need say nothing to you by this honest bearer, Captain Mewes, who can well tell you all I would have said, yett I am willing to give it you under my own hand, that I am very much pleased to hear how constant you are in your affection to me, and in your endeavours to advance my service. We have all a harde work to do : yett I doubt not God will carry us through it: and you can never doubt [fear] that I will forgett the good part you have acted; which, trust me, shall be re- warded whenever it shall be in the power of your affectionat frind, Charles R. "Colen, 30th Dec. 1654." All hope of an immediate restoration being soon after abandoned, Dalyell obtained recommendations from his majesty for eminent courage and fidelity, and proceeded to Russia, then an almost barbarous country, where he offered his services to the reigning czar, Alexis Michaelowitch. He seems to have entered the Muscovite service as a lieutenant-general, but soon was elevated to the rank of general. In these high commands he fought bravely against the Turks and Tartars. After active employment for several years, General Dalyell requested permission to return to Scotland, whereupon the czar ordered a strong testimony of his services to pass under the great seal of Russia. Part of this document was conceived in the following terms : "That he formerly came hither to serve our great czarian majesty : whilst he was with us he stood against our enemies and fought valiantly. The military men that were under his command he regu- lated and disciplined, and himself led them to battle; and he did and performed everything faithfully, as a noble commander. And for his trusty services we were pleased to order the said lieutenant-general to be a general. And now having petitioned us to give him leave to return to his own country, we, the great sovereign and czarian majesty, were pleased to order that the said noble general, who is worthy of all honour, Thomas, the son of Thomas Dalyell, should have leave to go into his own country. And by this patent of our czarian majesty we do testify of him that he is a man of virtue and honour, and of great experience in military affairs. And in case he should be willing again to serve our czarian majesty, he is to let us know of it beforehand, and he shall come into the dominions of our czarian majesty with our safe passports, &c. Given at our court, in the metropolitan city of Muscow, in the year from the creation of the world, 7173, January 6." On his return to Scotland Charles II. manifested a better sense of his promises towards him than was customary with that monarch. "Tom Dalyell" was appointed commander-in-chief of the forces and a privy-councillor, in 1666; subsequently, he repre- sented the county of Linlithgow in parliament, his estates being now restored. In the year just men- tioned, General Dalyell suppressed the ill-starred insurrection of the Covenanters. By a bold march across the Pentland Hills, he came upon the insur- gents by surprise, and, on the evening of the 28th of November, gained a complete victory over them. In this year, also, he raised a regiment of foot; but its place in the military lists is not now known. It THOMAS DALYELL — is known, however, with historic certainty, that some- years afterwards he raised the distinguished horse regiment called the Scots Greys, which was at first composed exclusively of the sons of the cavalier gentry, and was intended to keep down the sturdy children of the covenant. The letters of service for raising the Greys are dated the 25th of November, 16S1. The commission of General Dalyell was intermitted for a fortnight in June, 1679, when the Duke of Monmouth was intrusted with his office, in order to put down the Bothwell Bridge insurrection. It was generally believed that, if he had commanded at Bothwell instead of Monmouth, there would have been sharper execution upon the insurgents. Being offended at the promotion of Monmouth, the old man resigned all his employments, but was quickly re- stored to them, and an ample pension besides. Some years before this period he had received a gift of the forfeited estate of Muir of Caldwell, who was con- cerned in the insurrection suppressed by him in 1666; but his family complain that they were deprived of this by the reversal of Muir's attainder after the Revolution, and that they never received any other compensation for an immense sum expende J by their ancestor in the public service. An individual who rode in Dalyell's army, has left the following graphic account of him: — "He was bred up very hardy from his youth, both in diet and clothing. He never wore boots, nor above one coat, which was close to his body, with close sleeves, like those we call jockey coats. He never wore a peruke, nor did he shave his beard .-ince the murder of King Charles the First. In my time his head was bald, which he covered only with a beaver hat, the brim of which was not above three inches broad. His beard was white and bushy, and yet reached down almost to his girdle. 1 He usually went to London once or twice in a year, and then only to kiss the king's hand, who had a great esteem f >r his worth and valour. His unusual dress ami figure when he was in London, never failed to draw after him a great crowd of boys and other young people, who constantly attended at his lodgings, and followed him with huzzas as he went to court or returned from it. As he was a man of humour, lie would always thank them for their civilities, when he left them at the door to go in to the king, and would let them know exactly at what hour he in- tended to come out again and return to his lodgings. When the king walked in the park, attended by s mie of his courtiers, and Dalyell in his company, the same crowds would always be after him, showing their admiration at his beard and dress, so that the king could hardly pass on for the crowd; upon which his majesty bid the devil take Dalyell, for bringing such a rabble of boys together, to have their guts squeezed out, whilst they gaped at his long beard and antic habit; requesting him at the same time (as Dalyell used to express it) to shave and dress like other Christians, to keep the poor bairns out of danger. All this could never prevail upon him to part with his beard; but yet, in compliance to his majesty, he went mice to court in the very height of fashion; but as soon as the king and those about him had laughed sufficiently at the strange figure he made, he reassumed his usual habit, to the great joy of the boys, who had not discovered him in his fashionable dress" (Memoirs her son, Sir James Menteith Dalyell, ancestor of the present representative. Through this alliance the family now claims to represent the old line of the Earls of Menteith. General Dalyell, as might be expected, is repre- sented by the Presbyterian historians as "a man naturally rude and fierce, who had this heightened by his breeding and service in Muscovy, where he- had seen little but the utmost tyranny and slavery." There are two ways, however, of contemplating the character of even so blood-stained a persecul Dalyell. He had, it must be remarked, served royalty upon principle in its worst days; had seen a monarch beheaded by a small party of his rebellious subjects, and a great part of the community, in- cluding himself, deprived of their property, and obliged to flee for their lives t<> foreign land-; and all this was on account of one particular \. viewing politics and religion. When the u.-ual authorities of the land regained their ascen lency, Dalyell must naturally have been disposed to justify and support very severe measures, in order to prevent the recurrence of such a peri. id as the civil w . usurpation. Thus all his cruelties are r< an abstract principle, to the relief of hi character, which otherwise, we do not husbandman. He acquired the principles classical education at the parochial sch parish; from thence lie went t'i the uni\ Edinburgh. There, by his assiduity an I ness and purity of his manner- and con quired the esteem of the profi — rs, an . - quence of their high recomm 1 tutor to Lord Maitland, afterwai Is dale. He attended Lord M of Glasgow, where he n with him heard the cel< 1 rati 1 Pi liver a course of 1 ' ' companied his ; u; il t 1 Pan>. he v home recommen led, and 1 I . ' as profess, ir < if < in k in Classical lean '■'.' • g Edinbur-h when Mr. Dalze'i a-.-umed his chair; I r : 1 . ■. r.-i: v ,; " - Ha\ .:- ac- ■ M . 43S ANDREW DALZELL DAVID I. while Professor Moore, one of the most profound and accurate scholars of the age, was raising the celebrity of the Glasgow university by his teaching of the Greek language, and while the Foulises were printing in their press at that city their beautiful editions of the Greek classics, the literati of the Scot- tish capital were dedicating their whole attention to the cultivation of English and French literature. It became therefore the anxious desire of Professor Dal- zell to revive the taste for ancient learning. To pro- mote this object he delivered a course of lectures on the language, history, eloquence, philosophy, poetry, literature, antiquities, and fine arts of the Greeks. Possessed of a perfect knowledge of the subject, these lectures were admirable for their systematic arrange- ment and the elegance of the language in which they were clothed; and being delivered in a distinct tone, with much suavity of manner, they caused a general and enthusiastic study of the language. Indeed, it became a sort of fashion of the students of the uni- versity to attend his lectures, and the celebrity he ac- quired had the effect of drawing many students to Edinburgh from England and from distant parts of the kingdom. In order still farther to increase that enthusiastic love of Grecian literature which he wished to instil into the minds of his pupils, he published several volumes of collections of select passages from the Greek writers. These he accompanied with short Latin notes, which are remarkable for their perspicuity and judgment, and for the classical purity of their language. The unremitting care which he bestowed on the improvement of his students was repaid by them with the most affectionate respect; nor did the interest he felt in them terminate with the discharge of his academical duties, for he exerted himself to the utmost in promoting their future wel- fare, and to him hundreds owed their establishment in life. But although he was thus eminently suc- cessful in reviving the love of ancient literature in Edinburgh, it was often a subject of deep regret to him that his influence over the minds of his pupils was only transitory, and that when he happened to meet them in after-life he almost invariably found that they had neglected their classical studies. Such, it is much to be feared, must ever be the case, the prosecution of ancient learning being, generally speaking, incompatible with the struggle and bustle of the world. The only satisfaction which remains is, that the deficiency is daily becoming less import- ant in the increasing beauty and copiousness of modern, more especially of English, literature. On the death of Dr. James Robertson, professor of oriental languages, Mr. Dalzell was appointed to succeed him as keeper of the library of the university. He was afterwards chosen to succeed the Rev. Dr. John Drysdale as principal clerk to the General As- sembly of the Church of Scotland, being the first lay- man who had ever held that honourable appointment. For some time before his death the delicate state of his health prevented him from performing his public duties, when his place was ably supplied by Dr. Thomas Macknight, one of the city clergymen of Edinburgh. He died on the 8th December, 1806, having for upwards of thirty years shed a lustre on the university by his many virtues, his high talents, and great classical attainments. Remarkable for many amiable qualities, and endowed with rich in- tellectual qualities, it may easily be supposed that his society was the delight of his friends; and as he ha I the good fortune to live during one (if the brightest periods of Scottish literary history, when a galaxy of great men adorned the society of Edinburgh, he included in the circle of his acquaintance many of the greatest men this country ever produced. Of the number of his intimate friends were Dr. Gilbert Stewart, Dr. Russel the historian, Sir Robert Liston, Dr. Robertson the historian, Lord Monboddo, Dugald Stewart, and Professor Christison. Mr. Dalzell in stature was about the middle height; his features were full, but not heavy, with a fair complexion and a mild and serene expression of countenance. His address was pleasing and unpretending, and his con- versation and manner singularly graceful. He was frequently to be met in his solitary walks in the King's Park, which was one of his favourite lounges. He was married to the daughter of the well-known Dr. John Drysdale of the Tron Church, and left several children. His works consist of the collections from Greek authors, which he published in several volumes, under the title of Collectanea Minora, and Collec- tanea Majora, a translation of Chevalier's description of the Plain of Troy, and many valuable papers of biography r , and on other subjects, which he contri- buted to the Edinburgh Royal Society's Transactions. He also edited Dr. Drysdale's sermons. DAVID I., a celebrated Scottish monarch, was the youngest of the six sons of Malcolm III., who reigned between 1057 and 1093, and who must be familiarto every reader as the overthrowerof Macbeth, and also the first king of the Scots that was entitled to be considered as a civilized prince. The mother of King David was Margaret, the sister of Edgar Atheling, heir to the Saxon line of English princes, but displaced by William the Conqueror. The year of David's birth is not known; but it is conjectured to have been not long antecedent to the death of his father, as ail his elder brothers were then under age. It is conjectured that he must have received the name of David from having been born at a time when his mother had no hope of more children, in reference to the youngest son of Jesse. Owing to the usurpations of Donald Bane and Duncan, he spent his early years at the English court, under the protection of Henry I., who had married his sister Matilda or Maud, the celebrated founder of London Bridge. There, according to an English historian, "his manners were polished from the rust of Scottish bar- barity." Here also he took to wife Matilda, the daughter of Waltheof, Earl of Northumberland, and widow of Simon de St. Liz, Earl of Northampton. After the Scottish throne had been occupied suc- cessively by his elder brothers Edgar and Alexander, he acceded to it on the 27th of April, 1124, when he must have been in the very prime of life. Soon before this time, namely, in 1 1 13, he had manifested that zeal for the church which distinguished him throughout his reign, by bringing a colony of Bene- dictine monks from Tyron, in France, whom he settled at Selkirk. These he subsequently translated to Roxburgh, and finally, 1 128, to Kelso. In tie latter year, besides founding the magnificent monas- tery of Kelso, he erected that of Holyrood at Edin- burgh, which he endowed in the most liberal manner. During the reign of Henry I. David maintained a good understanding with England, and seems to have spent a considerable part of his time in the court of his brother-in-law and sister. The following curious anecdote of one of his visits is related in a volume entitled Remaincs concerning Britain, pub- lished in 1614. "Queen Maud was so devoutly re- ligious that she would go to church barefooted, and always exercised herself in works of charity, insomuch that, when Ring David, her brother, came out of Scot- land to visit her, he found her in her privy chamber with a towell about her middle, washing, wiping, and kissing poore people's fecte; which he disliking, said, DAVID I. JOHN DAVIDSON. 'Verily, iftheking your husband knewthis, you should never kisse his lippes !' She replied, 'that the feete of the King of heaven were to be preferred before the lippes of a king in earth!'" On the death of Henry, in 1 135, his daughter Maud was displaced by the usurper Stephen, and to enforce her right David made a formidable incursion into England, taking possession of the country as far as Durham. Not being supported, however, by the barons, who had sworn to maintain his niece in her right, he was obliged, by the superior force of Stephen, to give up tlie country he had acquired, his son Henry accept- ing, at the same time, from the usurper, the honour of Huntingdon, with Doncaster and the castle of Carlisle, for which he rendered homage. Next year David made a new incursion, with better success. He is found in 1138 m full possession of the northern provinces, while Stephen was unable, from his en- gagements elsewhere, to present any force against him. The Scots ravaged the country with much cruelty, and particularly the domains of the church; nor was their pious monarch able to restrain them. The local clergy, under these circumstances, em- ployed all their influence, temporal and spiritual, to collect an army, and they at length succeeded. On the 22d of August, 113S, the two parties met on Cutton Moor, near Northallerton, and to increase the enthusiasm of the English, their clerical leaders had erected a standard upon a high carriage, mounted on wheels, exhibiting three consecrated banners, with a little casket at the top containing a consecrated host. The ill-assorted army of the Scottish monarch gave way before the impetuosity of these men, who were literally defending their altars and hearths. This rencounter is known in history as the battle of the Standard. Prince Henry escaped with great diffi- culty. Next year David seems to have renounced all hopes of establishing his niece. He entered into a solemn treaty with Stephen, in virtue of which the earldom of Northumberland was conceded to his son Henry. In 1 140, when Stephen was overpowered by his subjects, and Maud experienced a temporary triumph, David repaired to London to give her the benefit of his counsel. But a counter insurrection surprised Man!; and David had great difficulty in escaping along with his niece. He was only saved by the kindness of a young Scotsman named Oliphant, who served as a soldier under Stephen, and to whom David had been godfather. This person concealed the monarch from a very strict search, and conveyed him in safety to Scotland. David was so much ";!ended at the manner in which he had been treated by Maud, that he never again interfered with her affairs in England, for which he had already sacri- ficed so much. He was even struck with remorse tor having endeavoured, by the use of so barbarous a as the Scots, to control the destinies of the civilized English, to whom, it would thus appear, he bore more affection than he did to his own native : ; . At one time he intended to abdicate the crown and go into perpetual exile in the Holy Land, in order to expiate this imaginary guilt; but he after- wards 1 himself with attempting to intro- duce civilization into his country. For this purpose he encouraged many English gentlemen and barons to settle in Scotland by giving them grants of land. In like manner he brought many different kinds of foreign monks into the country, settling them in the various abbeys of Melrose, Newbottle, Ca kenneth, Kinloss. Dryburgh, an i Jedburgh, as well as the priory of Li and the Cisterciai vent of L5er\\ . w Inch wer :. 1 en- dowed by him. The effc ts which these compara- tively enlightcne 11 lies of men must have : r 439 upon the country ought to save David from all modern sneers as to hi, apparently extreme piety. Sanctimoniousness does not appear to have had any concern in the matter : he seems to have been governed alone by a desire of civilizing his kingdom, the rudeness of which must have Ix-en strikingly ap- parent to him in consequence of his education and long residence in England. The progress made by the country in the time of David was accordingly very great. Public buildings were erected, I established, agriculture, manufactures, and commerce promoted. Laws, moreover, appear to have been now promulgated for the first time. David was him- self a truly just and benevolent man. He Used to sit on certain days at the gate of his palace to h« decide the causes of the poor. When justice required a decision against the poor man, he took pains to ex- plain the reason, so that he might not go away un- satisfied. Gardening was one of his amusement-, and hunting his chief exercise; but, says a con- temporary historian, I have seen him quit his horse and dismiss his hunting equipage, when any, even the meanest of his subjects, required an audience. He commenced business at daybreak, and at sunset dismissed his attendants and retired to meditate 0:1 his duty to God and the people. By his wife Matilda David had a son, Henry, who died before him, leaving Malcolm and William, who were suc- cessively kings of Scotland; David, Larl of Hun- tingdon, from whom Bruce and Baliol are descended, and several daughters. David I. is said, by a monkish historian, to have had a son older than Henry, but who perished in childhood after a re- markable manner. A person in holy orders h murdered a priest at the altar, and was protected by ecclesiastical immunity from the punishment due to his offence. His eyes, however, were put out, and his hands and feet cut off. He procured crooked irons or hooks to supply the use of hands. Thus maimed, destitute, and abhorred, he attracti attention of David, then redding in England a- a private man. From him this outcast of socii tained food and raiment. David's eldest child was then two years old; the ungrateful monster, pretence of fondling the infant, crushed it to in hi, iron fangs. For this belief, he was torn to pieces by wild horses. < >.; lo>:ng his so-: Henry, in Iis2. King David si son Malcolm on a solemn progress 1 king- dom, in order that lie might be ackr. the people as their future sovereign. He ;. manner recommended his grandsi n William to the barons of Northumberland as his successor in that part of his dominions. Havi residence at Carlisle, the pi n:s in his last, May 24th, 1 153; being found posture of devotion. David I., nient of Buchanan himself, was "j emplar of a ;-