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age 80. londtm. -William Dar&m . 6S,ffolhtrrn Hid . THE JUVENILE PLUTARCH; CONTAINING ACCOUNTS OF THE Lives of Celebrated Children, AND OF THE INFANCY OF PERSONS MHO HAVE BEEN ILLUSTRIOUS FOR THEIR VIRTUES OR TALENTS. WITH COPPER-PLATES. FIFTH EDITION. LONDON: WILLIAM DARTUN, 58, HOLBORN HILL. Price Half-a-Crown. PREFACE. THE great Loud Bacon hath justly observed* that ct Knowledge drawn fresh, and, as it were in our view, out of particulars, knows the way best to particulars again ; and it hath much great- er life for practice, when the discourse attends upon the example, than when the example at- tends upon the discourse." History and biography have been too frequent- ly employed in the service of error and vice ; but by proper management they may be made equally effectual in the cause of learning, virtue, and religion. Examples of the progress of great and good men in the paths which led them to that glory which has rendered them objects of admiration to posterity, cannot but excite in the minds of ingenuous youths a de- sire to imitate them. To produce so desirable an end was the object of the editor in compil- ing the following work, in which the examples of early virtue and genius have been selected with care, delineated with exactness, and placed in such a point of view, and attended with such remarks, as may best serve to form pro- per models for the consideration and imitation of young persons of both sexes. CONTExNTS. Page Francis Bcauchatcau 1 Candiac Montcalm 17 Edward Sixth 29 Francis Bacon, Lord Vcrulam 30 Lady Jane Grey .......•••♦ 44 Edward the Black Prince 53 Blaise Pascal 57 Peter Gasscndi •••• 71 James Cricliton 77 Hugo Grotius . 89 Abraham Cowley ] 06 John Philip Baratier 1 1.2 Valentino Jamerai Duval 110 Ambrose Couflerr 142 Frances Maria 1 .35 Volncy n^ckner 165 Jeremiah flurrox 175 THE JUVENILE PLUTARCH FRANCIS BEAUCHATEAU. Francis Beauchateau, son of a player of the same name, was born at Paris in 1645, and died at sea at the age of fifteen. He was a most accomplished charac- ter, equally excellent in heart and un- derstanding. His father spared nothing that might contribute either to his in- struction or the formation of his man- ners. Although the profession of a player does not always admit of a very PART I. B 2 Francis Beauchateau. regular mode of life, he thought no- thing too much for his son, and em- ployed the greater part of his salary in procuring for him the best masters in every department. His wife, who was also a player, did not hesitate to make the same sacrifices. She sold her trin- kets, and confined herself to the most simple dresses, to concur in the designs of her husband. The young pupil fully answered these tender cares, and largely contributed to the happiness of his parents, both by his progress in learning and the amiable qualities of Lis heart. Nothing serves more to enlarge the mind, than to adorn the memory with chosen passages, in prose or verse. This method, now too much neglected, was formerly employed with success iu the liberal studies. Though somewhat Francis Beaucltateaui ' 3 slow of conception, Beauchateau read and wrote tolerably well in his fifth year ; and he knew by heart, and re- cited with correctness, the best of La Fontaine's fables. What so much hast- ened his progress was, that his mas- ters never gave him a line to learn with- out previously explaining to him the literal or figurative sense of the words. He who knows well how to choose his time, and to manage his means, will find himself able to do many things without extraordinary efforts. Though little Francis did not study three hours a day in all, yet in his eighth year he under- stood the best Greek and Latin authors ; he translated them at sight, because he had been taught these difficult languages chiefly by use and by conversation, which save the disgust caused by abs- tract principles and perplexing rules. b % 4 Fiwncis Beaucliatcau. We commonly consider those pre- mature geniuses, who display the know- ledge of men while vet in leading- strings, as phenomena : let us cease to wonder; patience, and sound princi- ciples of education, accomplish every thing, and supply the defects of nature. Like those stony and ungrateful soils, which stubborn labour at length suc- ceeds in rendering fertile, the most un- promising understandings may be form- ed by assiduous cultivation. With a few exceptions, what has already been learned by one individual, another is equally capable of knowing. Where in- vention is not the point, nothing but time is necessary ; every thing depends on the method and ability of the mas- ters. The languages are the keys of hu- man knowledge ; he who possesses se- veral of them, possesses also several Francis Beanchateau. 5 means of instruction. Besides Greek and Latin, those two bases of the liberal studies, young Beauchateau applied himself to the Spanish and Italian ; and in his eleventh year he was so well versed in these two languages, that he would not have needed an interpretei at Madrid or Florence. In order to form a complete scholar, it is not sufficient to make a deep and constant study of literature, or to pass much time in reading the best authors; the pupil ought to try his own powers, and be able to execute in his turn. The instructors of our young scholar did not forget to accustom their pupil to translate a great deal, and to extract the best passages from the books lie read ; and they exercised him particu- larly in composing on all sorts of sub- jects, both in prose and verse. B J 6 Francis Beauchateau. Versification is a talent too much neglected in education, both public and private. It is, however, very use- ful in forming' the style ; nothing sharpens the wit more, nothing contri- butes more to give grace, energy, or ingenuity, to the thoughts. By means of turning verses, little Beauchateau learned to make very pretty ones ; and he soon acquired a reputation in this charming art. His poetical pieces, equally full of sense, vigour, and fan- cy, passed from the capital to the pro- vinces ; and it could scarcely be be- lieved that they were the work of a child. Many considerable people, wishing to assure themselves of the truth, invited the father of little Fran- cis to bring his son to them, that they might hear him talk, and judge for themselves of the things that were re- Francis Beaucliateau. 7 lated of him. Their satisfaction equal- led their surprise. They were enchant^ ed, and did not hesitate to allow the superiority of a careful and systematic education, over those superficial and detached notions which too many per- sons content themselves with giving to youth. Anne of Austria, the mother of Lewis the Fourteenth, King of France, was desirous of seeing the celebrated child. Having sent for him to the pa- lace, she asked him questions on various subjects, which he answered with equal ease and precision. " How is it," asked the princess, ■ f that you can have so much wit and knowledge at your age ?-" — " O !' ,J re- plied the young poet, " when we ap- proach the divinities of the earth, ard S Francis Beauchateaiu above all beauty, it would be difficult not to have them/' Flattered with the repartee, the queen embraced the child, and dismissed him, loaded with rich presents, among which was a box for sugar-plums, adorned with precious stones. Cardinal Mazarine, Chancellor Se- guier, and many other great persons, used to send for little Beauchateau, and, giving him a subject for his muse, shut him up till he had performed his task; which he never failed to do to their satisfaction. As he began his classical studies rery early, and improved with great assiduity the precious moments of youth, at thirteen or fourteen years of age he had scarcely any thing more to learn. It was about this time that lie Francis Beauchateau. 9 revised his poetical compositions, which were printed, under the title of " The Lyre of the Young Apollo ; or, The Muse of Little .Beauchateau." Thej were adorned with the portraits of the distinguished persons whom he had celebrated ; and this first edition met with a very rapid sale, since all parents were pleased to present to their children the works of the young poet, as an encouragement to the love of learning. Every thing depends on the first im- pulse given to the mind. Science and information were become of absolute necessity to this illustrious child. The English tongue was not fashionable in France in his time ; yet he applied to it with such ardour, as to understand and to speak it fluently. In order to make himself more perfect in it, he ob- 10 Francis Beauchateau. tained permission of his father to go and spend some months in England ; and he set out with the French ambas- sador, to whom he had been reoom- mended. On his arrival at London, Beaucha- teau was received by persons of rank with the same distinction as he had been at the French court. He was of a slender shape, and very little ; and though of a good constitution, at thir- teen he did not appear to be more than nine or ten years old : a circumstance which added still more to the reputa- tion of his talents. This uncommon youth was also of an engaging appear- ance, and the sweetness of his disposi- tion answered to this agreeable advan- tage of nature. The most noble and beautifiul ladies contended for the plea- sure of entertaining this delightful Francis Beauchateau. 1 1 child. They sometimes placed Him on their knees, where he more than once composed verses full of point and gaiety. Little Beauchateau was not four- teen at the time of his voyage to En- gland, yet he was at the summit of hh reputation. At this period, still ani- mated with the desire of knowledge, he embarked at Plymouth on a voyage to Persia, in company of some learned mathematicians. It has been insinuated that his mo- tive for taking this voyage was the ac- quisition of riches : but surely this susoicion is unfounded ; for, if he had felt a passion for wealth, he might have satisfied it in his own country ; since it is certain that offices no less lucrative than easy had been offered to his acceptance. 12 Francis Bcauchateau. It is conjectured, with more proba- bility, that this literary phenomenon had the intention of studying the oriental languages; as he had shown a taste for them from his childhood, and took a pleasure in hearing Turks or Persians converse. However this may be, Beauchateau and his compa- nions put to sea in 1660 ; and the se- cond day after their departure, the ship was overtaken by a dreadful tempest, and foundered. The crew saved them- selves with the greatest difficulty. Many persons were drowned in a boat, which sunk ; and it is presumed that the unfortunate child was of this num- ber, for nothing was beard of him af- terwards. Knowledge and abilities are a pow- erful recommendation; but they should be free from all affectation, and accom- Francis Beauchateau. \3 panied by modesty. The possessor should, in some sort, be ignorant of them ; he should devote them with the greatest politeness to the amusement of society, otherwise they will render him disagreeable, and an object of con- tempt. The actor, Beauchateau, in procur- ing a good education for his son, was above all solicitous that he should by no means value himself upon it. Indeed, notwithstanding the various learning and accomplishments of little Beau- chateau, he had all the simplicity of other children; be whipped his top with them, he played in the same man- ner, and never thought of displaying either his wit or his knowledge. One day bis father took him to dine at the house of a great man, where there were several children of his own c 14 Fiwicis SeaacJmtcaiu age. During a great part of the en- tertainment the conversation turned on poetry, music, and the Spanish lan- guage. Some ladies, more learned than those of our days, quoted certain pas- sages, which raised a dispute on the sources from which they were taken. Though little Francis knew them per- fectly well, he took no notice of it, and chatted with the children of his own age. Dinner being ended, music was mentioned, and the voung; ladies were requested to touch the harpsichord. They placed themselves, not without a great deal of pressing, at the instru- ment. After having poorly executed some easy pieces, they were much ap- plauded, and appeared vain of their suc- cess. Beauchateau, who played very well, remained quiet by the side of his father, so that the company were far Francis Beaucliateau. 15 from suspecting that he was able to obtain the same applause as the young ladies.- As these thing's were going* on, a famous Italian musician came in. He knew Francis, whom he had frequently seen at concerts, and with whom he loved to speak Italian. "What!" cried he, " you do not play* my friend. Ah, you are a little rogue, to deprive the company of the pleasure of hearing you !" All eyes were then turned on the child, who was confound- ed with the compliment. He was en- treated to sit down to the harpsichord, which he did with the most perfect modesty, accompanying the instrument with several Spanish songs, which he sung with taste and intelligence. When he had done playing, the ladies loaded him with caresses. They then addressed him in Spanish and Italian. c 2 16 Francis Beaucliatcau. He answered them in the same lan- guages; he even spoke of the manners, customs, and government of those coun- tries, in such a manner, that every one was delighted, and knew not which to admire most, such rare talents, or so much discretion at so tender an age. The poetry of Beauchateaii is distin- guished by gaiety and playfulness of fancy. Some verses published in a pe- riodical journal of that time will serve as a specimen of his sportive vein. They were addressed to the daughter of a confectioner, near the college where he studied. Her name was Julia Desormaux, and she was almost as much celebrated for talents as himself. What conquering charms, fair Julia, wait on thee ! Song, dance, and graceful speech in thee combine; To touch thy heart how happy should I be ! Still more to touch thy orange cakes divine ! Candiac Montcalm. 17 Sitting one day on the lap of a cele- brated English lady of rank at Wind- sor, she asked him for some verses, on which he made the following impromp- tu, in French and English : Placed on your knee, I feel the gods inspire ; Your charms a thousand lays demand : But while Apollo tunes my lyre, My heart is pierced by Cupid's hand. CANDIAC MONTCALM. Candiac Montcalm was a younger son of the Marquis de Montcalm, and was born at Candiac, near Nimes, in France, in 1719. Biographers have been diffuse upon his premature erudition; but unfortu- nately they have given us no account of his moral character and disposition. This, however, is what renders a man c 3 18 Candiac Montcalm. estimable and valuable in society. Of what importance is the vain enumera- tion of languages, of plants, of arts, of the history of ancient and modern na- tions, if all this does not lead us to the knowledge of ourselves, or induce us to promote the happiness of our fellow- creatures? If we here mention this lite- rary phenomenon, it is merely to excite the emulation of our young readers; it is to show them that, with pains and application, all kinds of science may be acquired from the tenderest years. The Marquis of Montcalm had received from his father a remarkably excellent education : and to procure a similar one for his son was a point which he had much at heart. He knew, by the ex- perience of all ages, that titles of nobi- lity, fortune, and honours, are transi- tory benefits, but that talents know- Candiac Montcalm. 1 9 ledge, and wisdom, have nothing to fear from the caprices of fate, or from the vicissitudes of fortune. Founding his sjstem on this truth, this equally tender and enlightened father procured for his son the hest masters that could be found in France; and he did not hesi- tate, for this object, to incur that ex- pense which others lavish upon super- fluities, in contempt of things both honourable and necessary. Unlike those servile followers of the beaten track, who have neither studied nor reflected, and who believe themselves competent to teach because they teach, the instructors of little Candiac simpli- fied for him, with the utmost clearness, the first elements of the sciences. They presented them to him in so many va- ried and charming forms, that the pupil never manifested any repugnance tQ learning. 20 Candiac JWontcalm. What we frequently touch, what offers itself to our eyes without study and without constraint, easily impresses itself on our memory. In consequence, it occurred to them to trace, upon cards, the different characters of the alphabet. By comparing them together, young Candiac was able to distinguish them at the age of fifteen months; it was sufficient to ask him for a B, an X, or aZ, &c. He ran immediately to seek the letter, and brought it joyfully to the person who had asked for it. This first step being taken, other means, no less ingenious, were employ- ed, completely to initiate the young pupil in reading. Full as is the French language of contradictory rules and difficulties, he advanced in it with a rapid pace. It is even asserted that, at the age of three years, he read and pronounced wry Candiac Montcalm. 21 well French, Latin, and Greek, whe- ther printed or manuscript. Threats and punishments are unfortunately ne- cessary to make many children study. It was not so with the docile Candiac. Singularly sensible to praise, a kind word, a caress, was sufficient to stimu- late his exertions; and he always per- formed much more than could be re- quired of him. Such was even his ardour for study, and his insatiable ap- petite for books, that it was necessary to conceal them from his sight. When he had completed his fourth year, he was instructed in the abstract prin- ciples of Latin: and in ten months he was able to construe the lives of Cor- nelius Nepos, and Justin's Universal History. Besides the ancient languages, he also learned arithmetic, geography, history, geometry, and antiquities. All 22 Candiac Montcalm. these sciences became familiar to him in a short time; his masters could scarcely follow him; and they were no less astonished at the rapidity of his progress than at the justness of his reasoning". At an age when other children scarcely lisp their alphabet, the son of the Marquis de Montcalm had already perused, and even made extracts from, historians, orators, phi- losophers, and grammarians; and his reputation every day increasing, ex- tended far beyond his paternal man- sion. Montpelier, Nimes, Usez, Ly- ons, Grenoble, Paris itself, paid a just tribute of admiration to so much learn- ing united in so tender a mind. The public papers were filled with flatter- ing accounts of th:3 young phenome- non, and a number of interesting par- ticulars were related of him. Candiac Montcalm. 23 It is with real satisfaction that we have traced the sketch of the^ studies and literary success of young Candiac; but it would be much increased, had we any particulars to relate concerning his dis- position and his moral conduct, 'Yet, notwithstanding the silence of histo- rians, the life of this illustrious child is perhaps not less interesting in a moral point of view. Can any one have a taste for learning, without uniting to it that sweetness and gentleness of heart, and love of virtue, which so ex- alted a pursuit naturally tends to ex- cite ? The greater part of men, historians themselves, prize only brilliant talents and the gifts of the understanding. Vain and fake estimators of merit ! they scarcely deign to mention the in- estimable qualities of the heart and 24 Candiac Montcalnu the soul. Yet without them, what signifies all the genius in the world? Of what importance is knowledge or fame? A virtuous action, an instance of sensibility, the divine ties of endear- ing friendship, the mere expression of an affectionate sentiment, are infinitely more valuable than the celebritv ac- quired by ten triumphs. This early prodigy, however, only appeared for a moment on the scene of the world: whether it was that an ex- cess of watchfulness and application weakened his health, or that he was born with too delicate a constitution, he was cropped in the bud. But such is the prerogative of the understanding, such is the ascendency of merit, that they are no more measured by years than the virtues of the heart. The labours of this young scholar have Candiac Montcalm. %5 gained him immortal glory ; and though he died in his infancy* fame has not hesitated to assign him a rank amongst celebrated men. The various knowledge and the repu- tation of young Candiac attracted to his father's house a crowd of persons, who took pleasure in conversing with him. His father having one day in- vited five or six scholars of the first rank in learning, the conversation natu- rally turned upon the sciences. Every one started a question : one in geome- try, another on history, another on lan- guages . the timid child was afraid at first, through modesty, to mingle in the conversation ; he contained himself within the bounds of a respectful si- lence, in presence of men of consum- mate learning, whom he considered as his masters : but, being invited to speak 26 Candiac Montcalm. in his turn, he soon proved that he was no stranger to the profound suhjects under consideration ; he even made ob- servations which had escaped the other persons present, and winch were little expected from one of his age. Little Montcalm had an astonishing memory, and geography was not less familiar to him than other things, lie again surprised ail the company with his knowledge of this subject. Having demanded of the guests the name of their province, and the place of their birth, he took some chalk, and began to trace a map of France upon the floor. When his plan was finished, he showed to every one the spot, the re- spective situation, the distance, the aspect of his native place; he mention- ed the battles which had been fought there* the rivers which watered it, and Caiidiac Montcalm. He took some chalk, and. "began to trace a map of France aipon the floor. ]'i'l . J .-page 2r>. londen :WilluzmJ)artan ;S8JBolborn JJiil . Candiac Montcalm. 27 the celebrated men to whom it had given birth. He afterwards accom- panied this operation with remarks on natural history and antiquities. A very well informed lady, little daz- zled by this vast appearance of learn- ing, imagined that young Candiac was a parrot, who repeated a lesson, and understood nothing but the words. In consequence of this opinion, she put him upon subjects capable of exercis- ing his reason and powers of reflection. Borrowing the language of the dazzled vulgar, she affected to exalt the con- quest of Alexander, and the empire of the Romans; after which she asked little Montcalm his opinion of them. " This is my opinion," replied he: "All those famous warriors were only the scourges of the earth. The Tyrians and Carthaginians, who have d2 28 Candiac Montcalm, been so much vilified, appear to me far preferable ; they enriched by com- merce those flourishing* nations which the others destroyed by arms." — " My good friend/' pursued the lady, "you surely will not be so severe on the con- quest of Peru by the Spaniards; and you cannot refuse a just tribute of ad- miration to the discovery of the New World by Christopher Columbus ; for, in fact, the sugar and sweetmeats of St. Domingo are excellent things. What do you think?"— " This is a great problem to solve," replied Candi- ac, in a serious tone ; " at my age it does not belong to me to decide : however, I do not believe that we have become richer for the gold of Peru, or happier for wants that we knew not before." Charmed with the propriety and good sense of his answers, the lady Edward the Sixth, 29 took the child in her arms, and looking at the Marquis of Montcalm, she ex- claimed : ie What an honour, what a comfort, for a father to have a son so well informed and well educated ! Ah ! could I procure such a son, though at the expense of my whole fortune, I should think myself rich enough with such a treasure !" A complication of disorders carried off this promising child at the age of seven years, October S, 1726. EDWARD THE SIXTH, KING OF ENGLAND. This excellent prince was the only son of Henry the Eighth, by Lady Jane Seymour, and was born at Hamp- ton Court, October 12, 1537, the queen his mother dying the day after. His d 3 30 Edward the Sixth. tutors were Dr. Cox and Sir John Cheke, under whom he made a very rapid progress in the languages, and other parts of learning. He also dis" played a remarkable sweetness of dis- position, and a great regard for virtue and religion even in his most tender years. At the age of nine he succeeded his father, who by his will left him and the kingdom under the guardianship of six- teen persons of high distinction. The reformation which had been begun by Henry, was carried on with more con- sistency and sincerity under Edward* who was firmly settled in the doctrines of the protestant religion. In his reign, the principles of civil and religious liberty were but little un- derstood ; yet Edward possessed more generous and enlarged sentiments with Edward the Sixth. 31 respect to the rights of conscience, than the most grave and learned men of his age : for when one Joan Bocher was condemned to be burnt, for maintain- ing some notions in religion contrary to the established faith, the young king repeatedly refused to sign the death warrant. Archbishop Cranmer, other- wise a mild and pious man, urged him by many arguments; and having at last prevailed over his resolution, Ed- ward emphatically told him, with tears in his eyes, that " if he did wrong, the guilt should lie on his head.'* The virtues of his heart were equalled by the accomplishments of his mind. He was well acquainted with the Greek and Latin languages, and could con- verse fluently, and with considerable ingenuity, in French, Italian, and Spa- nish. The principles of natural philo* 32 Edward the Sixth, sophy and mathematics, as far as they were then understood and explained, were familiar to him ; so that,, when the celebrated Cardan was introduced to him, he entered into a long conversa- tion with him on the subject of comets ; concerning which he had much juster notions than that ingenious mathema- tician. Of this Cardan has given us an account in one of his books. " He was but fif leen years of age, " says that fa- mous man, "when I waited on him: yet he spoke Latin, both as to readiness and phraseology, as well as myself. He asked me what was the subject of my book De Rerum Varktate, ( concern- ing the variety of things/ which I had dedicated to His Majesty. I told him, that in the first chapter I had explain- ed the nature of comets. He asked me what the cause of them was. I told him, Edward the Sixth. 33 that when the light of the planets hap- pened to meet and concentre, they pro- duced this appearance. The king ob- jected, that these stars had different motions ; and therefore it would fol- low that the comets must vary in their figure and motion according to the revolution of the planets, and their dif- ferent situations from each other. " He afterwards pushed some other objections against Cardan's visionary notion, and completely puzzled the phi- losopher, according to his own account. Cardan, however, had the candour to acknowledge the high merits of this excellent prince, although he had no expectations from him : and he con- cludes a long panegyric, by saying, that f{ his description rather falls short of matter of fact, than exceeds it; and that the young king had such parts, 34 Ed-ward the Sixth. and was of such expectation,, that he looked like the miracle of a man." Edward employed his time to the hest of purposes. He made the im- provement of his mind his greatest pleasure; and being born to govern a powerful nation, he applied himself, with indefatigable care and attention, to such studies as might render him most useful in his high station. He made himself acquainted with the state of his kingdom, and kept a book iu which he recorded the charac- ters and public actions of the principal persons in the nation. He regarded chiefly such as were distinguished by their virtuous conduct, eminent ta- lents, and religious principles. He had a competent knowledge of geography ; and knowing the value of trade and commerce to a kingdom so situated as Edward the Sixth. 35 England, he greatly encouraged mer- cantile men and navigators, who, under his protection, made many voyages, and explored unknown seas and coun- tries, which afterwards proved of con- siderable importance to this country. His mental abilities were displayed in a discourse concerning Faith, in Latin, which he addressed to his uncle, the Duke of Somerset; and in a history or diary of his own times, which, with his letters, are still existing, and prove beyond all doubt the extraordinary qualifications and transcendent virtues of this excellent prince. He possessed too exalted a mind to form low connexions, or to bestow his favours upon unworthy favourites. His pleasures were of the purest kind ; and his only ambition was to be virtuous and to do good. Yet the piety of Ed- 36 Edward the Sixth ward was cheerful, and unmixed with bigotry. He was pleasant and affable in his deportment; and indulged him- self in such amusements and exercises as were suited to his age and rank, par- ticularly music, in which agreeable science he excelled. His attendance on public worship was constant, and he paid particular attention to the sermons which were preached before him. Of many of these he took notes for his private con- sideration and advantage. He knew that religion must be attended to, as well when we are alone as when we are at church ; and that if we would do our duty and please God, we must regard his service and his word in private as well as in public. Good King Edward, though placed on a throne, and surrounded with pomp, Sir William Petty. 37 from thence to Paris, where he studied anatomy. During his residence abroad he still continued his application to trade, which, indeed, was necessary, considering the smallness of his for- tune. At the age of twenty- four he ob- tained a patent from parliament for teaching the art of double writing, of which he gives the following descrip- tion in a letter to a friend: — (t It is an instrument of small bulk and price, easily made, and very durable, whereby any man, even at the first sight and handling, may write two resembling copies of the same thing at once, as serviceably and as fast (allowing two lines upon each page on setting the instruments) as by the ordinary way; of what nature, or in what character, or what matter soever, as paper, parch- PART it. E 38 Sir William Petty. ment, a book, &c. the said writing ought to be made upon. The use hereof will be very great to lawyers and scriveners, for making of inden- tures, and all kinds of counterparts ; to merchants, &c. for copying of letters, accounts, invoices, entering of war- rants, and other records; to scholars for transcribing of rare manuscripts, and preserving originals from falsifica- tion, and other injuries of time. " It lesseneth the labour of exami- nation, serve th to discover forgeries and surreptitious copies, and to the transacting of all business of writing, as with ease and speed, so with privacy also." It appears that this useful instru- ment of his had been made some years before, and was the result of that ap- plication to mathematical and rnccha- Sir William Petty. 39 nical studies which formed the amuse- ment of his boyish days: from which youths may learn this valuable and encouraging-lesson, — that early acquire- ments in learning and science, by taking deep root in the mind, may at a future period prove beneficial to the production of important discoveries. The year following, Mr. Petty pub- lished a very valuable work on practi- cal education, in which he recom- mended seminaries, wherein children should be taught to do something toward their living, as well as to read and write. Experience had convinced him of this important truth, that know- ledge is only to be valued when it is applied to useful purposes, and becomes an assistant to industry. He was also of opinion, thatchildren of thehighest rank should be, taught some genteel occu* e 2 40 Sir William Petty. pation, such as turning curious figures, the construction of mathematical in- struments, and particularly the art of building small ships, with the manner of rigging and sailing them. Certainly nothing can be conceived more pleas- ing than such employments, by which, while young persons are amused, they acquire a habit of industrious applica- tion, the right use of time, and lay the foundation of principles, which at a future period may render them eminently serviceable to their coun- try. About this time Mr. Petty went to the university of Oxford, where he taught anatomy wilh great reputation, and was created Doctor of Physic. He was also one of those ingenious persons who met occasionally for the purpose of making philosophical experiments, Sin William Petti/. 4 1 which laid the foundation of that fa- mous institution, afterwards formed by charter from king Charles the Se- cond, under the name of the Royal Society. In 1651, Mr. Petty was appointed professor of anatomy at Oxford, and the year following he went to Ireland, as physician to the army. While in that kingdom he made some valuable purchases of lands, which had been forfeited in the great rebellion. After the restoration of Charles the Second he was knighted and made surveyor-general of Ireland, where he engaged in mercantile concerns, which turned to a very profitable account. But he was still indefatigable in his scientific pursuits; and paid particular attention to ship-building, in which e 3 42 Colin Maclaurin. he made several improvements. He died in Westminster, in 1687. This remarkable person, who was of strict integrity and of irreproachable morals, left behind him an estate worth more than 10,000/. a-year, all acquired by his own industry. COLIN MACLAURIN. This great mathematician was born of an ancient family, in Argyleshire, in Scotland, in 1698. Six weeks after his birth he had the misfortune to lose his father ; but this loss was compen- sated by the tender care and affection of his mother. At the age of nine years, however, by her death, the guardianship of him devolved to his uncle, who paid parti- Colin Maclaurin. 43 cular attention to his education, and in 1709 placed him under Mr. Car- michael, an eminent professor in the university of Glasgow. Here he pro- secuted his studies with uncommon diligence and success. When he was twelve years of age he happened accidentally to meet with Euclid's Elements in the chamber of a friend. This book so powerfully engaged his attention, that he borrowed it, and in a few days made himself master of the first six books, without the least assistance. From thence he pursued his inqui- ries further into the noble science of geometry, and in a short time was enabled to solve the most curious and difficult problems. It is certain that about this time he had invented many of the propositions which are contained •14 Colin Maclaurin. in his Geometria Organica; and there is every reason to believe, that among the earliest productions of his genius and application may be reckoned two papers which were afterwards thought worthy of insertion in the Philosophi- cal Transactions ; one, on the con- structs n and measurement of curves ; and the other, a new method of de- scribing all kinds of curves. In his fifteenth year he took the de gree of master of arts, after which he left the university and went to live at his uncle's house in the country, in which delightful retirement he conti- nued his mathematical studies, though not to the exclusion of other branches of learning. He was well acquainted with the best works in philosophy, ancient and modern, particularly the pro- Colin Maclaurin. 45 found and inestimable Principia of Sir Isaac Newton ; a performance which, at that period, was considered as be- yond the comprehension of any but the most learned mathematicians. Mr. Maclaurin had also a fine taste for the classic authors, which he read with peculiar pleasure ; nor did he pass by the productions of modern writers of elegance in prose and verse. These he accustomed himself to read at his leisure hours, especially when, during the intervals of his studies, he used to climb the lofty hills among which he lived. The grand and beautiful scenerv which, in those excursions, caught his eye, inspired him with the noblest sentiments, which he frequently ex- pressed in a hymn or poetic effusion on the beauties of nature, and the wisdom and goodness of its Divine Author. 46 Colin Maclaurin. At the early age of nineteen, when other young men are attending the les- sons of instructors, or dissipating their time in idle and extravagant amuse- ments, Mr. Maclaurin was appointed, after a comparative trial of ten days, with a very able competitor, professor of mathematics in the Marischal Col- lege of Aberdeen. During a vacation from the duties of his office, he took the opportunity of travelling to London, where he formed an intimacy with Dr. Samuel Clarke, and several other learned men, but above all, with Sir Isaac Newton, whose friendship he ever after esteemed the greatest honour and happiness of his life. At this time he was also elected a fellow of the Royal Society, to whose transactions he contributed many va- Lady Jane Grey She foxLtid more pleasure in reading PLATO thaniti all those amxuseineirts . VoLl.pagc/ 46. Zondon iWUb'/mtDarhm, .^.HoTborrvIIUL. Colin Maclaurvn. 47 luable papers; as be also did to the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris ; one of which, on the percussion of bo- dies, obtained a prize in 1724. The year following he was chosen professor of mathematics in the uni- versity of Edinburgh., chiefly by the recommendation and kind offices of Sir Isaac Newton. Here there were generally above an hundred young gentlemen attending his lectures every year. These pupils he divided into four or five classes, in each of which he employed a full hour every day, from the 1st of November to the 1st of June : in the first or lowest class he taught the first six books of Euclid's Elements, plain trigonometry, practical geometry, mensuration, the elements of fortification, and an intro- duction to algebra. The second class 48 Colin Maclaurin. studied algebra,, the eleventh and twelfth books of Euclid, spherical trigonometry, conic sections, and the general principles of astronomy. The third class went on in astronomy and perspective, read a part of Sir Isaac Newton's principles of mathematical philosophy, and had a course of expe- riments for illustrating them performed and explained to them. Those who composed the fourth class read a system of fluxions, the doctrine of chances, and the remainder of Newton's principles. In 1742 he published his treatise on fluxions, a work which is superior to all praise. About this time we find him engaged in promoting several pub- lic works of great utility ; such as the building an astronomical observatory at Edinburgh; a plan for improving Colin Maclaurin. 49 the natural history and settling the geography of the Orkney and Shet- land islands ; and another for discover- ing a north-east passage to the South Seas. But while he was thus employed,, the rebellion broke out in Scotland in favour of the Pretender; and as Mr. Maclaurin had exerted himself in de- fence of the king and religion, as by law established, he was under the ne- cessity of withdrawing to England when the rebels approached Edinburgh. He was hospitably entertained by the Archbishop of York, who had a great esteem for him, and kept up a regular correspondence with him after his return to Edinburgh. Soon after this he fell dangerously ill of a dropsy, which disorder was heightened by the fatigue and agitation PART II. F 50 Colin Maclaurin. he had undergone. Still he continued his favourite studies, and employed himself in finishing his excellent ac- count of Sir Isaac Newton's philoso- phical discoveries. While he was dic- tating the conclusion of this work, in which he proves, in the noblest man- ner, the wisdom, power, goodness, and other attributes of the Deity, his ama- nuensis observed a remarkable altera- tion in his voice and manner, No pulse could then be feU, and his hands and feet were already cold. Notwith- standing this extremely weak condition, he sat in his chair and conversed with his friend Dr. Monro, with his usual serenity and streugth of reasoning, de- siring the doctor to account for a phe- nomenon which he then . observed in himself. Flashes of fire seemed to dart from his eyes, while in the mean time, Colin Maclaurin. 51 his sight was failing, so that he could scarcely distinguish one object from another. He then desired to be laid on his bed, where, with all the tran- quillity and fervent piety of a christian, he expired without any pain or strug- gle, June 4, 1746. Dr. Monro, who pronounced his eulogium at the next meeting of the university, after dis- playing the acute intellectual powers and extensive learning of his deceased friend, observed that he was still more to be admired for his superior qualities of the heart, for his sincere love of God and men, his convivial benevo- lence and unaffected piety, and for the warmth and constancy of his friend- ship. F 2 52 JOHN PICUS, OF MIRANDULA. This illustrious scholar, who adorned his high birth by the most brilliant talents as well as by his pre-eminent virtues, was the son of John Francis Picus, Prince of Mirandula in Italy, and born there February 24, 1463. He was but an infant when his father died ; and the care of his education devolved upon his mother, who pro- vided him with the best masters in every accomplishment which at that period was deemed necessary to form the gentleman and the scholar. His progress in polite learning was such as to surpass the most sanguine expecta- John Picus, of Mirandula. 53 tions of his friends, who were asto- nished to perceive in a mere child, ma- turity of judgement, vigour of intellect, and correctness of taste in the compo- sition both of prose and verse, which would have done credit to learned pro- fessors. Such was his quickness of apprehen- sion, that he understood at once ; and such the strength of his recollection, that he retained with the greatest ease, all the instructions of his preceptors. Of the powers of his memory, indeed, the most surprising particulars are re- lated. If he heard a poem once re- cited, he could not only repeat the whole exactly in order without miss- ing a single word, but he could also repeat the same backwards, beginning with the last line, and so on to the first. f 3 54 John Picus, of Mirandula. Being early designed by his mother for the church, Picus was sent at the age of fourteen, at which age he was well versed in the Latin language, to the university of Bologna to study the pontifical or canon law, which was deemed essential to form the character of an accomplished ecclesiastic. To this dry and uninteresting study, grounded only on remote customs and obscure traditions, he applied with great patience and perseverance for two years; thus setting a laudable example of dutiful obedience to parental judge- ment and partiality, even to the sacrifice of those inclinations which would have led his ardent mind to different and more pleasing pursuits. During this period he composed an abbreviated digest of the pontifical letters or decrees of the popes, so well John Picus, of Mirandula. 55 arranged as to furnish an expeditious mode of deducing from these confused authorities the necessary conclusions. But the vigorous and speculating mind of Picus was not to be confined to such narrow acquirements. Anxious to grasp all those branches of science which in a great measure constituted the learning of the age in which he lived, he quitted Bologna, and visited the most celebrated universities of Italy and France, where he courted the acquaintance of every individual scho- lar and professor of distinction, with whom he entered into minute conver- sations, for the sake of acquiring know- ledge : so that, before he had attained the years of manhood, he was no less universally than deservedly recognised as a most consummate philosopher and divine. 56 John Picus, of Mirandula. This early display of genius, for which Picus was so remarkable, natu- rally leads us to conclude that his juvenile days did not pass without producing a variety of compositions worthy of such extraordinary talents and acquirements. In fact, many of his letters which yet remain appear to have been written while he was very young, He very soon distinguished himself as a poet in the Latin and Italian languages ; but it is to be re- gretted that, from extreme delicacy of sentiment, at a latter period he was induced to commit the efforts of his muse to the flames. Yet the productions of his juvenile pen, had they reached our times, would, perhaps, have been read with much greater interest than those pro- found speculations of bis maturer John Picus, of Mirandula. 57 years, which still remain ; and his clas- sical effusions would have excited uni- versal delight and admiration, while his abstruse speculations only serve to make us lament that such genius should be wasted on learned trifles. Of the early letters of Picus, many might be selected which tend greatly to support the high reputation of their author. But in examining the literary character of this wonderful phenome- non, we have to contend with innumer- able difficulties, owing to the dark- ness of the age in which he lived, the superstition in which he was brought up, and by which he was led to sa- crifice his truly elegant performances, to studies which were then regarded as indispensable, but which have long since lost their value.' He spent seven years in visiting the 5S Joint Picus, of Mirandula. various seats of learning ; and it would no doubt be highly interesting, if it were practicable, to follow his steps from place to place, and to witness those bright effusions of genius which rendered him the object of universal admiration, and caused his friendship to be courted by scholars of the highest rank and celebrity. One of his most intimate friends was the celebrated Politian, with whom he kept up a constant correspondence. To a very complimentary letter which Politian had sent him, Picus modestly returned this answer: Ci My obligations to you, Politian, for the praise you bestow upon me, in your last, are proportionable to my consci- ousness of how much I fall short of deserving them ; since obligation ori- ginates from that which is gratui- John Picus, of MirandulcL 59 tously given, and not from that which is paid as a debt. I am, therefore, your debtor for all the handsome things you say of me. As I find in myself nothing that corresponds with your praise; as you owe me nothing of the kind, the whole must be placed to the account of your peculiar good- will and partiality for me. If in other respects you duly weigh my preten- sions, you will discover nothing but what is trivial, humble, and circum- scribed. I am but a iyrunculus, or a mere novice just advanced one step from the darkness of ignorance, and not further. It would be sufficiently kind in you to place me in the rank of students; the appellation of learned has something more in it, which ap- plies only to such as yourself. Little 60 John Picas , of Mirandula. do these exalted titles accord with me; since of the leading branches of science, so far am I from being a mas- ter, that I behold them, as it were, through a glass, and with but a dis- tant prospect. I shall however strive, as indeed I now do, to become in future such as you represent me to be at pre- sent; what you are pleased to think, or at least wish me to be." The uncommon attainments and ele- gant accomplishments of Picus, were united to such an excellence of dis- position, that while they raised the wonder, they at the same time concili- ated the esteem of the greatest scholars who had the good fortune of his ac- quaintance. Persons at a distance, in- deed, and who knew him only by report, would hardly credit the astonishing John Picus, of Mirandula. 6 1 things which were related of his men tal powers. The j were even offended with Po- litian for speaking so highly of the extensive learning of his friend ; on which occasion, that generous man took an opportunity of sending to one of his correspondents an ingenious epistle written by Picus, in which he had ironically defended a certain class of academic philosophers against Her- molaus Barbaras. " From this letter," says Politian, "you will be able to form some estimate of the talents of Picus ; yet it is to measure, as the proverb says, ' Leonem ab uoguibus/ He is indeed in the constant habit of writing largely on one important subject or other; as his works, daily maturing for publica- tion, will hereafter convince the world: PART II. G 62 John Ficns, of Mirandula. yet now and then he condescends to exercise his pen on these lighter sub- jects. This very letter, so full, so pointed, so rich in argument, was in a manner the extemporaneous produc- tion of a few morning hours. You will, however, see in it select expressions, a truly classical style, attic simplicity, close argument, roundness of period, an agreeable conciseness, a sprightly glow of colouring, happy metaphors, acute reasoning, appropriate elucida- tion, strong and convincing argument, solidity of judgement, accuracy of dis- crimination, uncommon force, ingenui- ty, and dignity." Such was the praise which Politian bestowed upon this wonderful youth, when writing in a private manner to a learned professor, at a distance. Blaise Pascal Itnappened one day, Avnile newasTrasily en- gaged in these :me dilations, liis father entered the to om . Tol.1. page 61 . Jjondorv: WHtiam. Darton , 58JTo TbormSiH ■ John Picus, of Mirandula. 63 Praise so bestowed, and so deserved, redounds equally to the honour of Pi- cus and his friend. At the age of twenty-two, Picus quitted the university of Florence, and devoted himself to a branch of study which at that period had scarcely en- gaged the attention of learned men. Of this he gives the following account in a letter to Ficinus : — " Lately/' says he, " I devoted a whole month of nightly as well as daily application to the Hebrew tongue. At present I am wholy occupied by the Arabic and Chaldaic ; and I do not despair of speedily making the same progress in these languages that I have made in the Hebrew : for in this last I can already dictate a letter, though not with elegance, yet without grammatical inaccuracies. g 2 64 John Pious, of Mir and id a. You see/' he adds, " what ardency of desire, aided by labour and diligence, can effect, even were the capacity is not the strongest." To these exertions Picus declares he was stimulated by obtaining some oriental works of inestimable value, and which were thrown in his way by the peculiar kindness of Provi- dence. Shortly after this he set out for Rome, where he published nine hun- dred propositions in almost every sci- ence, which he engaged publicly to defend against all opponents whatso- ever : and that time might be allowed for the circulation of them through the several universities of Italy, no- tice was given that the public dis- cussion would not take place til! the feast of Epiphany. A further John Picus, of Mirandula. 65 object of this delay was to afford to all scholars in the remotest seats of learning, who might wish to be pre^ sent, and to assist at the disputation, an opportunity of repairing to Rome for that purpose. So desirous was Picus of attracting' thither all the wit and talents of Italy, that he engaged to defray out of his own purse the charges of all scholars, from whatever part, who should undertake the jour- ney to Rome for the purpose of disput- ing publicly with him on any of the subjects proposed. The boldness of this challenge, from so young a person, could not but as- tonish the learned world : but asto- nishment soon gave place to en\y ; and the scholars and divines of Rome 3 whose credit was immediately impli- cated, conscious of their own inability g3 66 John Picus, of Mirandula. to contend with this prodigy of erudi- tion, hegan to devise means of hinder- ing him from showing his superiority in this public manner. Lampoons and satires were circulated at first ; but these proving ineffectual to drive the young champion from the field, recourse was had to a more powerful expedient. Of the propositions exhi- bited by Picus, thirteen were selected as of an heretical tendency. This was a very serious charge, and proved so effectual, that after staying a year at Rome in expectation of reaping an abundant harvest of praise, he found himself not only prevented from dis- playing his talents as a disputant, but, what was worse, involved in the accu- sation of heresy in the principal seat of bigotry and superstition. Under such circumstances, it is no John Picus, of Mirandula. 67 wonder Picus thought it most prudent to quit Rome, and to seek an asylum with his great friend Lorenzo de Me- dici at Florence. He there wrote his Apology, a work of immense learning, in the composi- tion of which he was engaged only twenty days. This book he respect- fully sent to Pope Innocent VIII. who was a man of mild disposition, and had a great regard for the author, His Holiness, however was not will- ing that subjects of so delicate a nature should be publicly agitated ; and therefore, while he acquitted Picus of any wrong intention or corrupt principles, he caused his Apology to be suppressed. Such was the issue of this project, suggested by youthful vanity and ambition ; and Picus after- wards acknowledged with thankful- 68 John Picus, of Mirandula.. ness, that Providence, which often brings good out of evil, had rendered the malevolence of his enemies a salu- tary check to his career of vainglory, in which he had been so far led astray. By the kindness of his friend Loren- zo, he now took up his residence at Fiesole, an elevated spot in the neigh- bourhood of Florence, abounding with beautiful scenery and most extensive prospects, admirably adapted to the purposes of study and contemplation. Here he devoted himself to theolo- gical inquiries, and to those philologi- cal pursuits which are necessary to the study of divinity. He published some works of a reli- gious character, which display prodi- gious reading, and, considering the age in which he wrote, considerable John Picus, of Mirandula. 69 judgement: but, what is better, they evince genuine piety and devotion, breathing a pure spirit of love to God and man. The Psalms of David appear to have been his favourite study, and in com- menting upon which he laboured w(th great assiduity. Of the merit of this commentary, and of its author, a learned man of that period thus writes : " So young a man !" speaking of Picus, ee and yet connecting himself in erudition with the most celebrated fathers of the church ! What is not such a person capable of becoming, if length of vears be STS-iited him in proportion to his talents ! What gra- tification may we not expect from the Psalms and poetical works of David, in the elucidation of which he has been long employed ; exploring with 70 Angelus Polilianus. infinite research all that Latin, Greek, and Hebrew authors have written on this subject; and for the completion of which work, I have the happiness to say, he has chosen the solitude of our monastery at Fiesole ! To behold him, to listen to him, is the height of fell- city ! * But the high expectations of the best and most learned men, respecting this phenomenon, were suddenly cut off; for being at Florence, he was attacked by a fever, which carried him off in 1494, aged only S3. \s ANGELUS POLITIANUS. This very learned man, whom we have had occasion to mention in the preced- ing memoir, was born in 1454, at Angelus PoUtianus. 7 1 Monte Pulciano, in Tuscany; and from the name of this town in Latin, Mons Politctnus, he derived his surname. His father was a doctor of the civil law, whose name was Benedictus de Ambroginis. Politian had the advantage of Lan- dino's instructions in the Latin lan- guage, and his preceptor in the Greek was Andronicus of Thessalonica. He also had the best masters in other branches of learning and philosophy ; but in the early part of his life, he devoted his attention chiefly to the muses, and preferred the gay and pleasing study of poesy to the discipline of the philosophical schools, The means of his education were fur« nished almost from his childhood by the illustrious family of the Medici at Florence, and he recommended him- 27 kAtigelus Politianus. self to the public notice, and the esteem of his patrons, by his poem entituled, ff The Stanze," written in his fourteenth year. It is an unfi- nished performance; but though aban- doned to neglect, and perhaps con- sidered by him as a mere playful effort of childish genius, unworthy of subsequent revisal or completion, it has, notwithstanding, perpetuated the author's fame. The best Italian wri- ters constantly speak of it in terms of the highest praise ; and one of the most distinguished critics ranks this poem, unfinished as it is, amongst the most elegant compositions which Italian poesy can boast. As a refiner and improver of his vernacular tongue, the juvenile efforts of Politian appear to have resembled those of our own celebrated poet, Pope ; and perhaps Petex Gassendi It "was therefore necessary to undeceive thena by me ans of their eyes . Vol J-. -page, J3 . JyOjuion :H 7 if/in, by Stevinus, one of the greatest mathema- ticians of his time. Grotius dedicated his translation to the republic of Ve- nice. The original was the standard book of all officers in the navy ; and Grotius, who was sensible of its great Talue and importance to all maritime nations, thought he could not do a more useful or acceptable service than by translating it into a language uni- versally understood. In order to do the work justice by a faithful version, he was obliged to study astronomy, which is one of the principal founda- tions of navigation. By this means he acquired a partia-i.y for that sublime Hugo Grotius. 97 science, and he read carefully several astronomical works, particularly that written in Greek verse by Aratus, above two hundred years before our Saviour. It contains the celestial phe- nomena, with the figures of the con- stellations, according to the ancient astronomers, and is remarkable for being quoted by St. Paul in his famous sermon at Athens, recorded in the Acts of the Apostles. Grotius found this work so very curious, that he translated it into La- tin, and published it in 1600. It was received with the greatest applause, and was celebrated by many learned men as a mostextraordinary production. Among others who paid the just tribute of respect to Grotius on this occasion, was the eminent Justus Lipsius, who, in his letter to him, says, " That not- K 9S Hugo Grotius. withstanding his childhood, he regards him, as his friend ; and congratulates him that though so very young, he had, by the force of genius and indus- try, accomplished what few could do in the flower and vigour of their age." Our philosopher was yet but eighteen years of age, and had already acquired as much glory as the most famous scholars. He was reckoned a prodigy of learning, and had made a great pro- gress in various sciences. Perhaps no one would have thought that such a genius, engaged in abstract and pro- found studies, could be susceptible of the charms of polished composition, and the charms of poetry. He had, indeed, made some verses in his infan- cy, which were much admired ; but it was apprehended that the deep study of ancient authors, to which he devoted Hugo Grotius. 99 himself, had destroyed this early fire of his imagination. It therefore surnrised all men of let- lets when he published some elegant Latin poems, particularly the Proso- popoeia, in which he describes patheti- cally the siege of Ostend. Public fame ascribed at first this piece to Scaliger, who was considered as the first poet of that period. The learned Peiresk put the question to that great man, who made answer, that he was too old to keep up an intercourse with the Muses; and that this admirable poem was not written by him, but by Gro- tius, a most ingenious and accomplish- ed youth. These juvenile productions of his muse were thought so excellent, that several persons, especially the cele- brated Malherbe, translated them into K 2 100 Hugo Grotius, French verse, and the learned Casaubon into Greek. This success animated Grotius to further exertions, and he accordingly wrote a Latin tragedy, called Adamus Exul ; and another entitled Christus Patiens. This last was translated into English verse by George Sandys, and was greatly admired. The subject of his third piece was the story of Joseph, which the accurate Vossius pronounced to be the most perfect thing of its kind that had ever appeared. Amidst all these literary pursuits, he did not neglect those studies which were necessary to the profession of an advocate, for which he was destined : and he made so great a progress, that at the age of seventeen he pleaded his first cause at Delft with the greatest reputation. Hugo Gvotius. 101 His abilities were now so highly esteemed,, that the United Provinces appointed him their historiographer. Several great persons had used their interest to obtain this honourable situ- ation ; and among the rest Baudius, the famous professor of eloquence at Lev- den. The States, however, thought proper to prefer Grotius; and it deserves notice, that Baudius himself approved of their choice; a circumstance highly honourable to the candour and gene- rosity of the professor, and to the pre-eminent talents of his youthful competitor. In 1667 he was nominated to the important office of advocate general for the provinces of Holland and Zea- land. The year following he married a lady of distinction, and who has rendered K 3 102 Hugo Gr otitis. herself celebrated for her connubial virtue and heroism. Grotius went on to render his coun- try service by his abilities in his profes- sion, and the glory of his literary works. But in 1609 he became obnoxious to the States General, for espousing the cause of Arminius, a learned professor and divine of Lejden, who publicly opposed the rigid doctrine of predes- tination, which then prevailed in the Low Countries. This religious dispute was carried to such a height, that the Arminians, as they were named, were persecuted; and Barneveldt, a virtuous statesman, who took their part, was beheaded. Gro- tius, his friend, was sentenced to per- petual imprisonment, because he would not believe an absurd doctrine. He was sent to the castle of Louves- Hugo Grotius. 103 tein, and only his wife was allowed to visit him. In this melancholy situation he called philosophy to his aid, and it gave his mind that sweet content which renders a man superior to the greatest adversity. He devoted himself to the study of the sublimest truths, and laid the foundation of his immortal work on the Truth of the Christian Religion. While he was thus employed, his wife was engaged in attempts to pro- cure his liberty. After trying various expedients, she happily hit on one which succeeded. Grotius had been allowed to borrow books, which, when he had done with them, were carried away in a chest. At first, this chest was searched as it was carried out of the castle; but at length the guards were so accustomed to it, that they omitted this formality. Grotius's wife 104 Hugo Grotius. took advantage of this negligence. Slie caused some air holes to be bored in the side of the chest, and made her husband get into it. In this manner lie was conveyed out of the castle; but one of the soldiers who carried it, find- ing it heavier than usual, said, "There must be an Arminian in it ;" to which Madam Grotius replied coolly, " That indeed there were some Arminian books in it." When the chest was brought out of the castle, it was put into a boat, and conveyed to the house of a friend. Grotius then got out, and removed out of the territories of his enemies. In the mean time, his wife was kept in close confinement; but at last she obtained her liberty. Grotius went to France, where he was received in a manner due to his ex- traordinary merit. He was afterwards Hugo Grotius. 105 invited to the court of Sweden ; and in 1635 was sent ambassador from thence to Paris, which important office he dis- charged with high satisfaction to his employers. This great man died at Rostock, o his journey to Lubeck, August 29, 1645. Finding his end drawing nigh, he desired to see a clergyman : one accordingly came, who, not knowing him, put such questions as were usual to the most ordinary persons. Grotius, to cut short this mode of exhorta- tion, said to him, " I am Grotius." — " What!" answered the minister in astonishment, te are you the great Grotius ?" Soon afterwards he ex- pired. His works are universally known, and will last for ever. 106 ABRAHAM COWLEY. This ingenious poet was born in St. Duostan's parish, London, in the year 1618. His father died before the birth of this son, who was left to the care of his mother. This excellent woman struggled hard to procure for her child a literary education ; and, as she lived to the age of eighty, had her solicitude rewarded, by seeing her son eminent ; and it is to be hoped, by seeing him fortunate, partook of his prosperity. We know, at least, from his earliest biographer, that he always acknow- ledged her care, and justly paid the dues of filial graiitude. In the window of his mother's apart- ment lay Spenser's poem of the Fairy Abraham Cowley. 107 Queen, in which young Cowley very early took delight to read, till, by feel- ing the charms of verse, he became, as he relates, irrecoverably a poet. Such, says Dr. Johnson in his Life of Cow- ley, are the accidents which, sometimes remembered, and perhaps sometimes forgotten, produce that particular de- signation of mind, and propensity for some certain science or employment, which is commonly called genius. The true genius is a mind of large general powers, accidentally determined to some particular direction. Sir Joshua Reynolds, the great painter, had the first fondness for his art excited by the perusal of Richardson's Treatise on Painting. By his mother's solicitation Cowley was admitted a king's scholar of West- minster school, where he is stated as 108 Abraham Cowley. having been so deficient in memory, as to be incapable of retaining tbe ordi- nary rules of the Latin grammar. But Dr. Johnson treats this assertion with jusfc contempt ; for as Cowley became an elegant classical scholar, and wrote the Latin language with purity, both in prose and verse, he could not be ig- no ant of its rules, though he was such an enemy to all constraint, that his master could never prevail on him to leara the rules without book. His literary attainments, however, we e most honourable both to his ge- nius and his application ; for at the early age of fifteen, a volume of his poems, under the appropriate title of (< Poetical Blossoms," was printed, conta ning among other compositions, 4< The Tragical History of Pyramus and Thisbe," written when he was only ten Abraham Cowley, 109 years old ; and " Constantia and Phi- letus," written two years after. While he was jet at school, he also produced a comedy, called rf Love's Riddle," but it was not published till he had been some time at the univer- sity. In 1636 he was elected a scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge, in which favourable situation a genius like his could not fail of obtaining distinction. While a young student he produced a Latin comedy, entitled " Naufragium Joculare," which was acted before the university by the members of his col- lege. He also wrote at this time a great part of his t it might recover it by applying at the Hermitage. Some weeks after, a gen- tleman knocked at the gate of St. Anne's, and asked for the hermits' boy. Duval appeared. — "You have found a seal ?" said the stranger. — " Yes, Sir." '.' I will thank you for it ; it belongs to me." — " A moment's patience ; before I give it you, you will be so good as to blazon your arms." — "You are laugh- ing at me, young man : you can surely know nothing of heraldry ?" — "Be that as it may, Sir," said Duval, who had read a French book on the Ele- ments of Heraldry, " you shall not have the seal till you have blazoned your arms." The gentleman, surprised at the manner and tone of Duval, asked Duval. 129 Ii i til a variety of questions, and finding him well informed, described his arms, and gave him two guineas. Desirous of being better acquainted with the lad, the gentleman, who was an Eng- lishman of the name of Foster, made him promise to come and breakfast with him at Luneville every holiday. Duval did so, and received a crown at every visit. The generosity of Mr. Foster con- tinued during his abode at Luneville, and he added to it his advice respect- ing the choice of books and maps. The application of Duval, under such a guide, could not fail of being attended with improvement, and he added great- ly to his stock of knowledge. The number of his books had in- creased to four hundred volumes, but his wardrobe was the same ; consisting 130 Duval. of a coarse linen coat for summer, and a woollen one for winter, with wooden shoes. His frequent visits at Lune- ville, the opulence and luxury that prevailed there, and the state of ease he began to feel, did not tempt him to quit his first simplicity ; and he would have considered himself as guilty of robbery, if he had spent a farthing of what he gained for any other purpose than to satisfy his passion for books. Economical to excess, and prodigal in whatever could contribute to his in- struction and extend his knowledge, his privations gave him no pain. In proportion as his mind strengthened, and his ideas enlarged, he began to reflect upon his abject state. He felt that he was not in his proper place; and he wished for a change. From this instant a secret inquietude haunted Duval. Vol him in his retreat,, accompanied him in the forest, and distracted him in his studies. Seated one day at the foot of a tree, absorbed in reflection, and surrounded by maps, which he examined with eager attention, a gentleman approached him, and asked, him with an air of surprise, what he was doing. — " Studying geo- graphy/' said he. — "And do you un- derstand any thing of the subject ?'%— " Certainly ; I never trouble myself about things I do not understand." — " And what place are you seeking for ?" — " I am trying to find the nearest way to Quebec." — " For what pur- pose ?" — "That I may go there, and continue my studies in the university of that town." — "But why need you go for this purpose to the end of the world ? There are universities nearer 132 Duval. home, superior to that of Quebec ; and if it will afford you any pleasure, I will point them out to you." — At this mo- ment they were joined by a retinue be longing to the young princes of Lor- raine, who were hunting in the forest with Count Vidampiere and Baron Pfutsclmer, their governors. Various questions were put to Duval, which he answered with precision, and without being out of countenance. It was at length proposed by J^aron Pfutschner and Count Vidampiere, the person who first accosted him, that he should pur- sue his studies in the college of Jesu its at Pont-a-Mousson. Duval felt the importance of this proposal, but desired time to consider of it; adding, that he valued his liberty, and would never quit his retreat without being sure of pre serving this precious gift of nature. Duval. 133 They dispelled his apprehensions on this subject, and the baron promised to call upon him in a few days. He kept his word, and came to in- form him, that Leopold, duke of Lor- raine, would take him under his protec- tion, and furnish him with the means of pursuing his studies. He invited him at the same time to go with him to court at Luneville. Our young re- cluse was attached to the hermitage, and could not quit it without tears. Having vowed eternal gratitude to his benefactors, he set off in a chariot with the baron ; and on his arrival at Lune- ville, was presented to the duke, whp received him in the midst of a nume- rous court, whom this singular event had contributed to assemble. Duval answered every question that was put to him without being; confused, not*- N 134 Ducal. withstanding the novelty of the scene, and the important part he had to act. Some ladies having expressed their surprise at the whiteness of his teeth, he said, ingenuousl\ r , " What, ladies, can there be astonishing in this ? It is an advantage which I enjoy in com- mon with the canine species." The duke, charmed with his simplicity and physiognomy, renewed his promise of protection, and committed the care of his establishment at the college to Baron Pfutschner. His books and ef- fects were accordingly conveyed thi- ther ; he was clothed, and an annual pension was assigned him. Duval's natural taste for study made him redouble his zeal. History, geo- graphy, and antiquities, were the stu- dies he preferred, and in which he made a great progress. Duval. 135 He lived two years in this house ; and such was his improvement, that the duke, as a recompense, permitted him in 1718 to make a journey to Paris in his suite. On his return the next year his highness appointed him his librarian, and conferred on him the office of Professor of History in the academy of Luneville. He shortly after read public lectures on history and antiquities, which were attended by numerous auditors, parti- cularly a number of young English- men, among whom was William Pitt, afterwards the immortal Earl of Chat- ham. Duval, struck with the distin- guished air and sonorous voice of this young man, predicted more than once his future eminence. Occupied by his studies, Duval had spent many years in perfect content, N 2 3 36 Duval. when an unexpected accident inter- rupted his felicity. Duke Leopold died in 1738, and his son Francis exchan- ged the duchy of Lorraine for that of Tuscany. King Stanislaus, the new possessor of Lorraine, entreated Duval to continue in the office of professor in the academy ; but his attachment to his old patron would not permit him to listen to the proposal. He went to Florence, where he was placed at the head of the Duke's library. The sci- ence of medals, upon which he had read lectures in Lorraine, became now his favourite amusement, and he was de- sirous of making a collection of ancient and modern coins. He was deeply engaged in this pursuit, when the Em- peror Francis, who had formed a similar design, sent for him to Vienna, that he might have the care of his collection. Duval. 137 During bis abode at Vienna, it was customary for him to wait upon the emperor after dinner. One day he quitted him abruptly, without waiting* till he should be dismissed. " Where are you going?" said the prince. — "To hear Gabrieli, Sire."—" But she sings so wretchedly !"— " Let me en- treat your majesty not tp say this aloud." — "Why not ?"— " Because it is of importance to your majesty, that every one should believe what you say ; but in this no one will believe you." The Abbe Marcy, who was present, said to him, as they came out, " Do you know, Duval, that you have spoken to the emperor a bold truth ?"— " So much the better/' replied he ; " I hope he will profit by it." He preserved, nevertheless, the friendship of their n 3 138 Duval. majesties, and continued to receive new proofs of it. Once, during the Carnival, the em- press laid a bet with his majesty, who piqued himself on being able to find out all the masks, that she would give her arm at the ball to a mask which he should not discover. Duval, who had never been at a ball in his life, was de- sired to wait upon the maids of honour, that he might be dressed for the occa- sion. He went, and endeavoured to excuse himself, alleging his awkward- ness, and ignorance how to behave : but he was obliged to yield ; and every thing being ready, he was introduced to her majesty. The empress gave him her arm, and assuming a tone of gaiety to encourage him, she said, " Weil, " Duval, I hope you will dance a mi- Duval. 139 nuet with me ?" " I, madam ! I have learned in the woods no other dance than that of tumbling head over heels." The empress laughed heartily at his reply, and presently they arrived at the assembly-room. The emperor, anxious to win his bet, was already there ; but his efforts were vain to dis- cover the mask, which, after two hours' stay, was suffered to depart. The disguise of Duval, and the con- straint he experienced in so great a crowd, had made him very warm ; and in returning from the ball he caught a violent cold, which, as he pleasantly said, preserved him from the danger of being elated with pride at the distinc- tion conferred upon him. A philosopher in the true sense of the word,Duvalthuslived,in the midstof lux- ury and splendour, a life truly pastoral, 740 Duval. never deviating from his original plan, and never more happy than in his study. His health being much impaired by intense application, he was advised to take a journey to France to restore it. He accordingly visited Paris in 1752, and there formed a close intimacy with some of the most learned and virtuous men of the age. On his return he passed through Artenay, his native place. He pur- chased his paternal cottage; and having caused it to be pulled down, he built upon the spot a commodious house, which he presented to the community for the abode of the schoolmaster of the village. His beneficence distin- guished itself also towards a hamlet situated near Artenay, where finding that there were no wells, he had some dug at his own expense. Duval. 1 4 1 By temperance and philosophical serenity he preserved his constitution till the eightieth year of his age, when he was all at once attacked by the gravel, from which he suffered excru- ciating pains with calmness. This was followed by a fever, which carried him off in 1775, aged 81. His end was tranquil, and such as might he expect- ed from a life that had been uniformly virtuous and usefuL Let his ashes rest in peace ; and may posterity, the ar- biter of true merit, never forget a man who, to raise himself from a state of obscurity and depression to which his birth seemed to have condemned him, opened himself a way, and overcame difficulties which the perseverance of genius alone was capable of surmount- ing ! 142 AMBROSE BOUFLERS. Courage and firmness do not belong exclusively to men. In past ages, and even in the present times, children have been seen to give proofs of heroic va- lour, and preserve calmness in the hottest posts of danger. What histo- rians relate of the young Lacedemo- nians, what the boys of our own sol- diery are daily seen to dare, who cheer- fully carried food to their fathers in the midst of the fire of muskets and the balls of artillery, all prove the truth of this assertion. Education, habit, and example, next to nature, are the best of masters. The Chevalier Bouflers does not figure here by his learning. Though he was educated with great care, and made a considerable progress in the Ambrose Bouflers. 143 sciences, in which he was instructed from his earliest years, he is more known by his military profession than by his erudition* Among the ancient French, with whom the strength of the body was preferred to the improvement of the mind, it was a constant custom to inure children of good families to the profession of arms, from the age of eight or nine years. Some of these children have been seen in bloody bat- tles, holding their colours with one hand, while with the other they struck great blows with their sabres. To con- front a forest of bayonets, to recover a broken standard, or to regain a piecs of lost ground, to meet the enemy in their entrenchments, to remain firm at the tremendous noise of artillery, scat- tering on all sides terror and death ; to collect the bullets, raining like hail- 144 Am brose JJo ujicrs. stones on the field of battle, and carry them to the exhausted engineers, were more than once the exploits of youths of twelve or thirteen, as well as of in- trepid grenadiers. The young officer, whose history we are tracing, recalls to our memories and confirms these traits of heroism. He was horn at Paris in 1734, of a fa- mily distinguished in the annals of France. Joseph Maria, Duke of Bou- flers, and governor of Flanders, was his grandfather. Full of the noble deeds of our ancient knights and of his an- cestors, this illustrious general was anxious that his grandson should re- semble them, and support the honour of the family. In consequence, he pro- cured for him an education proper to inflame his infant courage and inspire him with the love of glory. He was Ambrose Boitflers. 145 set to read the Battles of Alexander, the History of Cyrus, the Life of Du- guesclin, of the Chevalier Bayard, and of Henry IV. ; the histories of the great Conde, of Louis XIV., and of Viliars. At seven years old, Ambrose was not only acquainted with the lives of the greatest warriors, but he could perform his exercise with the precision of an old soldier ; and he was able to carry and handle his arms without letting fall a crown-piece placed between his elbow and his side. In his ninth year he had also acquir- ed a knowledge of tactics, and the art of the attack and defence of places. He could give the word of command for the different military evolutions, and drew up with skill a little army; for one of the principal amusements of his childhood was to place and moVe part i. o 146 Ambrose Boujlcrs. in different directions,, pieces of artil- lery, cavalry, and infantry, cut out in pasteboard. As a military man is like- ly to travel into foreign countries, the parents of young Bouflers spared no pains to make him acquainted with the modern languages, particularly the German, English, and Italian, which he learned in a few months by means of conversation. The Chevalierde Bouflers had scarce- ly attained his tenth year, when he was obliged to interrupt the course of his studies to make his first campaign. France was then at war with the English and Austrians, and Germany was the scene of action. Little Ambrose went thiuier with his father and his uncle. Such is the advantage of education, and I8e torpe of habit, that the child appeared no more astonished in the midst of the .Ambrose Boiiflcrs. 147 field than if he had been in his father's house. He first mounted guard as a common soldier, but he rose from rank to rank till he attained that of a cornet. The day the young; officer was installed in his post, he was sent with a foraging party consisting of one hundred anil twenty horse. On the road they en- countered a band of Hulans, who at- tacked them, and opposed their pas- sage. It was necessary to proceed to blows ; the skirmish was so sharp, that the little Chevalier was thrown from his saddle, and fell under his horse's feet ; he remounted safely, and had sufficient presence of mind to preserve his standard. He fired off* his pistol, caught hold of his sword, and fought with as much intrepidity as if he had been long used to such rencounters. Returning victorious, and slightly o 2 148 Aw brosc Boitflers. wounded in the right-hand, he ran to salute his uncle. The warrior took him in his arms, pressed him tenderly to his breast, and shed tears of joy : then perceiving that the child had received three balls in his hat, and several others in the skirts of his coat, the marquis was struck with admiration. His father now came to embrace him. "You look very gay/' said he, " considering you have had the firing so near you."< — " Dear papa," replied the child, " I did not think of myself ; my only fear was that of losing my poor servant, who ha- zarded his life twenty times to save mine. Ah ! without him I should not now have had the pleasure of seeing again either you or my dear uncle." During seven months the Chevalier Boufiers endured, without a complaint, the severest toils of war. Severe to Ambrose Boujiers, 1 4 9 himself, generous, and full of kindness to the soldiers, he took no advantages in consideration of his birth, and he punctually observed the discipline so necessary for the preservation of sub- ordination. Though he often marched by night in desert fields and dreary forests, and frequently passed close to the enemy's posts, he never manifested any signs of fear. At length happened the famous battle fought near Dettin- gen, a village situated on the Main, in the electorate of Mentz. On this fa- mous day the little Chevalier affected more gaiety than usual. Thinking that he perceived an air of uneasiness on the countenance of his father : " Papa," said he, "we shall gain glory to-day; the English will see fine sport." — " May you say true V replied Mon- sieur Bouflers with emotion ; " I think o 3 150 Ambrose Boujlcrs. the action will be rather hot : lest we should meet no more, let us embrace ; and do your duty!" Half an hour after this affecting; scene, the com- bat began. The Chevalier Boufiers, being posted with his cavalry on the banks of a river, sustained a heavv lire near an hour. The cannon roared on each side in the most terrible manner; whirlwinds of smoke entirely hid both armies from the sight; long files of men fell everv moment, and the earth was covered with the dying and the dead. Towards the conclusion of the bat- tle, which had before gone in favour of the French, the English, command- ed by King George II., made an unex- pected movement, by which the French general was deceived. He immediately gave orders for a retreat, which unfor- tunately did not arrive in time. The Ambrose Boujiers, 131 enemy fired on the French army point blank; the first batteries were dis- mounted ; terror and confusion spread from rank to rank. In this fatal con- juncture the Chevalier Bouflers, who had received no orders to retire from the dangerous situation in which he was posted, saw all his men fall around him, disabled with wounds. He him- self had his left leg broken ; lie became senseless^ and slipped under his horse's belly : a soldier then ventured to take him on his shoulders; and carried him to the quarter of reserve. The reputation of the young Che- valier for conduct and valour had reached even to the Germans, and at this period was of signal service to him. The soldier, who bore him bleeding and senseless in his arms, was stopped at three different times by the Austria 1 5 2 Ambrose Bo ufiers . ans ; and three times, at the sight of the wounded child and the name of Bou- flers, he was released, and arrived safe at the French camp. When the young warrior had taken a little rest, and was come to himself, the wound was examined; it was judg- ed incurable, and the surgeons declared that the leg must be amputated. The necessity and urgency of this painful operation was not concealed from him : " Since they cannot do otherwise/' answered the brave boy, " I had rather lose my leg than my head." In this cruel extremity the dutiful child felt himself more than ever penetrated with the tenderest sentiments towards the authors of his existence. He begged a delay of half an hour ; and causing pen, ink, and paper to be brought him, he wrote to his mother the following letter : Ambrose Boufiers. 153 "Dear Mamma, ee I have just received a wound in the leg; I will not conceal from you that it is absolutely necessary the limb should be taken off. I suffer more than I can express ; but it is less from my wound than from the thought of the grief that it will give you to hear of it. " I certainly expect to survive the operation ; but if Providence has or- dered otherwise, let me at least have the consolation of embracing you in this letter; and may this writing of a son, who loves as much as he respects you, be a new proof to you, my dear mamma, of my tender remembrance, and my gratitude for all your favours. " Do not makeyourself uneasy, my dear mother; I shall soon recover. Embrace for me my sister and my good friend." After having written this letter, the 154 Ambrose Boujlers. young hero entreated, with the most tender solicitude, that it should be sent immediately to his mother : and he was even attentive to have the courier large- ly paid in his presence ; after which he resigned himself to the operation. It was performed with no less prompti- tude than care and skill ; yet this in- trepid child could not survive it. u I am dying," said he in a stifled voice; {c father, I am about to leave you — Carry, I beg, this last kiss to mamma." His father, bursting into tears, bent down to receive the last caress of his dear son, who added : " Dear papa, it is not life that I regret, it is leaving you ; it is that I shall never see again my tender mother ; it is the disgrace of see- ing the battle won by the English. " 155 FRANCES MARIA. Frances Maria, of Rochebeaucour, was born in Angoumois, in France, in 1752. Nature, who has granted to man the gifts of genius and deep thinking, abili- ty to invent, and force to execute, seems to have compensated his companion by gifts no less valuable; gentleness of dis- position, patience, self-command, cou- rage, sensibility, prudence, activity, and regularity of conduct. This last quali- ty is, above all, a prerogative which can- not be refused to a sex worthy on so many accounts of love and respect, With what aptness, too, is woman endowed from her tender years ! Are not young girls daily seen to conduct a house, to watch over the details of house-keeping, to manage their little 156 Frances Maria. brothers and sisters, to supply, In a word, the loss of their parents, at an age when great boys are capable of no ser- vice, and only think of amusing them- selves ? Frances Maria perfectly con- firms these observations. She was the daughter of a tax-gatherer of Roche- beaucour, in Angoumois. Her father was possessed of no fortune, but he was a worthy man, a good husband, and a good father. Though he had received only a common education, as he did not want good sense, he brought up his child much better than the children of the rich inhabitants of great cities are often educated. He had remarked that Fran- ces was of a gentle but decided temper, repugnant to all remonstrances delivered with severity: in consequence, he made use of no other methods of management than those of kindness, caresses, and Frances Maria. 157 sentiment, and hie saw himself no less respected than beloved by her. His wife was far from showing the sense and tender cares of her husband. She affected great love for her daughter, but this love was unequal and unen- lightened. Whimsical, capricious, has- ty to excess, unreasonable in her de- mands, and ready to take offence, she was perpetually chiding Maria for mere trifles. On occasions when she ought to have reproved her daughter, she manifested a tenderness, of which the little girl could not divine the reason : when it would have been right to have encouraged her, she overwhelmed her with menaces and harsh treatment^ which disgusted the good father, and soured the mind of the child. Thus thwarted in his dearest affections, but irresolute, and desirous of preserving 158 Frances Maria. peace in his house, the father concealed within his heart a secret grief. He fell ill, and died in the arms of his afflicted daughter. His wife did not long sur- vive him ; and left behind her a little boy of eighteen months old, with Fran- ces, then aged eleven years. The father of the young orphan was rich only in virtues; he left no inherit- ance to his daughter but some old fur- niture, and a little cottage situated on the skirts of a wood. Frances retired with her little brother to this wild asy- lum. The wretched have neither re- lations nor friends ! She saw herself deserted, and was soon reduced to poverty. Some husbandmen in the neighbourhood, however, wished her to keep their geese and sheep ; but her at tachraent to her little brother prevented her from accepting the office, and she Fran ces Maria. 159 resolved to attempt and to suffer every thing rather than abandon him. In this urgent necessity Maria sold some of her effects, and with the money she bought flax and cotton. From the age of seven years she had been able to make a pair of men's stockings in two days. This habit of employment was of great assistance to her; and she set her- self to spinning, sewing, and knitting, alternately. As she was not less active than skilful, she thus provided for her subsistence, and preserved her inde- pendence. Industry and virtue naturally com- mand the esteem of men ; and when we no longer stand in need of them, they offer us their services. A girl of twelve years old, living alone in a poor cottage, providing for herself, and taking care of an infant brother as if he had been p 2 160 Frances Maria. her child, was a sight equally unusual and affecting. Accordingly her repu- tation soon spread abroad. Every body ran from the neighbouring districts to see her, and work was eagerly brought to her. The mothers particularly made it a pleasure to bring their children thither. "Come," said they, "and sec a girl of twelve years old who conducts herself like a woman of thirty, and passes her time in providing food for her little brother." Plenty, the fruit of industry, insensi- bly began to reign in the cottage of Frances ; she was even enabled to take a good old woman to live with her, who kept the house and took care of her brother whilst she went with her work to the neighbouring villages. Passing her days in innocence and peace, no- thing could have been wanting to the prances Maria. 3 6 i happiness of this virtuous child, had her father still been with her. Afflicting recollections continually offered themselves to her mind, and spread a gloom over her thoughts. During the hours of the night, and throughout the day, she felt a dreadful void around her. " Dear friend of my childhood/' she repeated, tl why are you not with your beloved daughter ? With what pleasure should I consecrate to you the product of my labours ! O, how it would delight me to return the cares which you lavished on me in my child- hood ! No, no; never shall I be consoled for so cruel a loes; nothing can make xm amends !" Divided between her attention to her brother, and the tender recollection of her beloved father, the good Frances had already passed three years in her solitude. f 3 162 Frances Maria. Surpassing others no less in the ad- vantages of person than those of the mind, she was of a size and strength much above her age, and her beauty was equal to the amiable qualities of her heart. Some of the richest farmers de- manded her in marriage, and would have esteemed themselves happy to have ob- tained her without a dowry : but they were all very young ; and Frances, with a prudence by no means common, dis- missed them, preferring a tradesman of a middle age, with a moderate property, because, as she said, he might supply the place of a father to her brother and her- self, and assist her in acquiring the ex- perience that she stood in need of. ft was the middle of a severe winter, and the prudent girl waited for the spring, to unite her lot with that of the happy man for whom she destined her Ixances Maria . Sne seized the child Try "the middle , opened a closet , aixd there placedliim out o£ danger. Vol.1. page 163 . Xorultm : William Dartzm. . 58JloIboTnHilL . Frances Maria. 163 heart and her lovely person. But, alas ! she was prevented in her design by a fa- tal accident. For five weeks the earth had been covered with snow; the wolves wandered through the fields in troops; they boldly entered the towns, and even men, when unarmed, became their vic- tims. One morning, as Frances was drawing some bread from the oven, a wolf, followed by five whelps, burst in- to the room. She instantly seized a knot- ty stick, and defended herself with such courage, that she would certainly have saved her life had she thought only of herself; but while she was encountering the savage beast, she perceived a second enemy advancing towards her brother. Then, uttering a cry of terror, sheseized the child by the middle, opened a clo- set, and there placed him out of danger; but whilst the courageous girl supported 164 Frances Maria. herself with one hand, and endeavour- ed with the other to repulse the vora- cious animals, the furious wolf sprung at her throat, and suffocated her instant- ly. The good old woman, flying to im- plore assistance, was also seized and torn in pieces. Thus died, in her fifteenth year, this young woman, who so well deserved a better fate. Who can refuse their tears ? The true model of filial piety, of cou- rage, and fraternal affection, inspired with virtue, with sentiment, and grace, who better deserved to have lived and become the mother of a family, than she who fulfilled so well the sacred duties of one without the title ? Her brother was living in 1796, and from him these interesting particulars were received. 165 VOLNEY BECKNER. Volney Beckner was born at London- derry, in Ireland, in 1748, and was de- voured by a shark at the age of twelve j ears. The child whom we here commemo- rate had not the advantage of springing from a wealthy or distinguished fami- ly ; but of what importance is birth ? wbat is the effect of riches ? They often corrupt the morals. He who is worthy, honest, and wise, has no need ofgreat or rich ancestors. Volney Beck- ner was the son of a poor Irish sailor ; he received no instruction but what related to his father's profession : yet nature had endowed his body with sin- gular address and agility, and his mind with unusual intelligence and penetra- 166 Volney Beckncr. tion. He had a soul of no common tem- per; and from his earliest years he dis- covered sentiments of valour, which would have led him to great enterprises, had he enjoyed a longer life. One art essentially necessary to a sailor, and serviceable to most others, is that of swimming. Besides that this exercise is very favourable to the health, and that it gives suppleness to the limbs, it is indispensable in a ship- wreck; there is no medium in such a case; a person must either know how to swim, or be drowned. As soon as little Beckner was wean- ed, his father, by example, showed him how to guide himself in the middle of the waves, even when they were most agitated. He threw him down into the sea from the stern of the ship ; then suddenly plunging into this delusive Volney Beckner. 167 element, which swallows so many men and so much riches, he sought for him again. He afterwards supported him with one hand, taught him to extend his little arms and legs, and thus accus- tomed him from his cradle to brave dangers in their very bosom. The pupil became so bold, able, and vigorous, that from his fourth year he would follow the ship in which he had been brought 'up, swimming the dis- tance of one or two leagues. When he wasexhausted by fatigue, his father, who watched him with an attentive eve, flew to catch him, and brought him to the ship on his back. Sometimes, when the little lad was not extremely fatigued, he would cling dexterously round a rope which was thrown out to him, and creep up like a rat into the vessel. 168 Volney Beckner. When he grew a little bigger, he soon rendered himself useful to the crew. In tempestuous weather, when the wind blew with violence, when it tore the sails, and the rain fell in torrents, he was one of the most acti ve on board. The squir- rel does not clamber with more agility up the trees in Lapland, than Volney did up the shrouds and along the yards of the ship. When he was at the top of the mast, even in the fiercest of the storm, he appeared as little agitated as a pas- senger stretched in his hammock. Such is the force of habit and exam- ple ! Happy are those who see none but good examples ! Cradled in the effemi- nacy of cities, abandoned to ignorant nurses, most children tremble like a leaf at the creekiug of a door, and are ready to faint at the sight of a mouse. It is not so with those who are brought up Volney Beckner. 169 in the midst of labour, and who con- template brave men. To be fed with bis- cuit broken with a hatchet, sparingly moistened with muddy water full of worms, to be lialf covered with a gar- ment of coarse cloth, to take some hours of repose on a plank, and be suddenly wakened at the moment when his sleep was the soundest, was the lot of Volney, and yet he enjoyed a robust constitution. He never caught cold, he never knew fevers, or any of those diseases which arise from gluttony and idleness. A hardy education is always the best, and alone forms superior men : of this fact history furnishes us with numerous ex- amples. Such were the aptitude and in- dustry of Beckner in his twelfth year, that at this age he was judged worthy of a higher station, and double pay. The captain of his ship often mentioned Q 170 Volney Beckner. him as a model to the other hoys; and said once, in the presence of the whole crew, u If this little fellow continues to conduct himself with so much valour and prudence, I have no doubt of his ob- taining a place much above that which I occupy." Little Volney was very sen- sible to the praises that he had so well deserved. Though deprived of the stu- dy of letters, which cultivates the mind, extends our knowledge, and gives us just idea of things, he loved glory by instinct, and made great efforts to ac- quire it. From several instances of in- trepid daring, which he manifested in many dangerous emergencies, we shall only select the following, since this alone will confer eternal honour on his memory. A little girl, daughter to a rich Ame- rican, who was going to Port-au-Prince, Volney Beckner. 171 in France., had slipped away from her nurse, who was sick in the cabin, and ran upon deck. There, whilst she fixed her eyes with curiosity on the immense expanse of water, a sudden heaving of the ship caused her head to turn, and she fell into the sea. The father of Volney darted after her, and in five or six strokes caught her by her frock. Whilst he swam with one hand to re- gain the ship, and with the other held the child to his breast, Beckner perceiv- ed at a distance a shark advancing to- wards him. He called out for assistance. The danger was pressing. E\ery one ran on deck, but no one dared to go further; they contented themselves with firing off several muskets; but the ani- mal, lashing the sea with his tail, and opening his frightful jaws, was just a- bout to seize his prey. In this terrible ex- Q 2 172 Volney Beckner. tremity, what strong men would not venture to attempt, filial piety excited a child lo execute. Little Volney armed himself with a sabre; he threw himself into the sea ; then, plunging with the velocity of a fish, he slipped under the belly of the animal, and thrust the sword into him up to the hilt. Thus suddenly assailed, and deeply wounded, the shark quitted the sailor and child, but turned, exasperated, against the ag- gressor, who attacked him with repeat- ed blows. What a heart-rending sight ! How worthy of admiration ! On one side the American, trembling for his lit- tle girl, who seemed devoted to destruc- tion ; on the other a generous mariner ex posing his life for a child not his own ; and here the whole crew raising their hands to heaven on seeing young Vol- ney contending with an enemy so great* Volney Beckner. 173 \y superior,, and encountering inevita- ble death to divert it from his father! Who can view a scene like this without dissolving into tears of tenderness? The combat was too unequal, and no refuge remained but in a speedy retreat. Several ropes were quickly thrown out to the father and the son, and they each succeeded in seizing one. They were hastily drawn up; already they were more than fifteen feet above the surface of the water; already cries of joy were heard : " Here they are ! here they are i — they are saved !" Alas ! no— they were not saved ! At least one victim was to be sacrificed. Enraged at see- ing his prey about to escape him, the shark plunged with a vigorous spring, and darting for ward like lightning, with his sharp teeth he tore asunder the body of the intrepid and unfortunate Q3 1 7 4 Volney Bcckner. vouth while suspended in the air. A part of his palpitating and lifeless body was drawn up to the ship, with his fa- ther and the little girl. Thus died, at the age of twelve years, this hopeful young sailor, who deserved a better fate. When we reflect on the generous action which he performed, and the sacred motive by which he was animated to the enterprise, we arc pene- trated with sorrow to see him sink under it. Yet these great examples cannot be lost. The memory of them does not perish with the individual who gave them. A faithful relation of them can- not but animate with a generous zeal the tender minds of youth, and produce from age to age the repetition of actions not less praiseworthy. I/O JEREMIAH HORROX. Of all the sciences cultivated by man, none has so direct a tendency to ele- vate his mind with noble sentiments, and to inspire him with a conviction of the infinite power, wisdom, and good- ness of the Supreme Being, the Creator and Governor of the universe, as astro- nomy. What can equal the contemplation of the numerous glories which adorn the canopy of heaven, when all nature is hushed into a still serenity, and no discordant sounds are heard, or busy scenes present themselves to perplex the mind and to distract the attention ! Man alone, of all the inhabitants of this globe, is capable of making obser- vations upon the innumerable worlds 176 Jeremiah Horro.v. which are scattered throughout the re- gions of space. % It should seem, therefore, to be a part of his duty, as it is his peculiar privilege, so to contemplate the celes- tial bodies, as to gain just notions of the universe, and becoming ideas of that boundless intelligence which not only created but preserves the whole in the exactest symmetry and order. The soul of man was made to walk the skies j Delightful outlet of her prison here ! There, disencumher'd from her chains, the ties Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large ; There freely can respire, dilate, extend In full proportion, let loose all her powers. Young's Night Thoughts. In the cultivation of this sublime science of astronomy, our countrymen have eminently distinguished them- selves. The illustrious Newton has \ Jeremiah Horrox. 177 fixed its principles ; and many other great men, by the construction of in- struments, the calculation of tables, and the accuracy of their observations, have rendered the study easy and delightful. Among others, to whom we are indebted for valuable discoveries, the subject of the present memoir is entitled to distin- guished respect. Jeremiah Horrox was born at a vil- lage called Toxteth, near Liverpool, in 1619. When very young, he was placed under a country schoolmaster, whom he soon surpassed, and after- wards was for a short time a student of Emanuel college, Cambridge. But at the age of fourteen we find him at home with his father, assiduously en- gaged in the study of astronomy. His circumstances were very moderate, and 178 Jeremiah Horrox. at that time there were but few books of practical utility upon the subject of his favourite science, and those were scarce and dear. At present there are many excellent works, which, in a plain and perspicuous manner, will enable the young inquirer to gain a knowledge of the celestial bodies : and the author of this memoir has peculiar satisfaction in recommending a volume lately published, entitled "The Wonders of the Telescope," in which the system of the universe is not only explained in a very easy manner, but the engravings are so admirably executed as to convey to the eye an exact view of the heavenly orbs. Young Horrox had no other helps than a few Latin authors, as Lansber- gius, Tycho $rahe, and Kepler ; who, Jeremiah Horrox. 179 though they were men of profound knowledge, did not write in a pleasing or familiar style. The love of science, however, was so ardent in his bosom, that, without any other tutor than these obscure books, he gained a most extensive and ac- curate knowledge of astronomy, and the branches of mathematical learning connected with it. About 1636, he contracted an intimate friendship with Mr. William Crab tree, who lived near Manchester, and who was also an ex- cellent mathematician, and an indefati- gable observer. With this gentleman young Horrox kept up a regular correspondence ; and it is from the letters which passed be- tween these ingenious persons, that these few particulars, concerning Mr, Horrox, have been gathered. ISO Jeremiah Horrox. Having now met with a companion whose genius resembled his own, our juvenile astronomer pursued his studies with increased ardour. He procured astronomical instruments, with which he made many curious observations ; one of which was very extraordinary, and is that which has immortalized his name. This was of the famous transit of Venus over the sun in 1639. The famous Kepler, in his tables, had predicted that this transit, or pas- sage, of the planet Venus over the disk of the sun, would happen in 163 1 ; and the celebrated Gassendi, whose life we have already given, looked for it at Paris in that year, but in vain. When Mr. Horrox first applied him- self to astronomy, he constructed ephe- ruerides or almanacks for himself, from which he was able to discover, not only Jeremiah Horrox. 1S1 the errors in the tables whkh had been published, but to ascertain exactly the situations of the planets, their conjunc- tions, appulses to the fixed stars, and the most remarkable phenomena that would happen in the heavens. It was thus that he found Kepler's mistake in placing the transit of Venus in the year 1631 instead of 1639. Ac- cordingly, in a letter to his friend Crabtree, dated at Hool, near Liverpool, October 26, 1639, he communicated his discovery to him, earnestly desiring him to make what observations he could with his telescope. This his friend readily complied with ; and, agreeable to Mr. Horrox's calculation, the transit was observed by them, November 24, 1639, they being the first persons who were ever favoured with such a sight. PART I. R 1S2 Jeremiah Horrox. By his observations on this uncom- mon sight, Mr. Horrox was enabled to measure the diameter of Venus, and to determine the latitude and longitude of the place of his residence ; all which he performed with wonderful accuracy. He continued to prosecute his studies and inquiries with equal ardour, and would doubtless have rendered still more service to the interests of science, had he not been cut off in the flower of his age, January 3, 1640. What we have of his writings, gives us some idea of the great loss which the world sustained by his death. He had just finished his book, entitled "Venus in Sole visa;*' or, "Venus seen in the Sun/' a little before his death. This excellent performance was pub- lished by the eminent astronomer He- velius, at Dantzick, with annotations. Jeremiah Horrctx. 18.1 The other papers and letter? of Mr. Horrox were printed by that learned mathematician, Dr. John Wallis : and it deserves notice, that the new theory of lunar motion contained in these posthumous papers of this surprising youth, was made use of by the im mor- tal Sir Isaac Newton, as the ground- work of his astronomy relative to that planet ; and that great man always spoke of Mr. Horrox as a genius of the very first rank. We cannot conclude this brief no- tice of this most ingenious young man, without again recommending to our ju- venile readers, a science, which, what- ever may be their destination in life, will be found necessary to the right im- provement of the human mind; and a total ignorance of which cannot but be considered as culpable in an age when r 2 184 Jeremiah Horrox. the means of acquiring knowledge are so numerous and easy. Come forth, O man ! yon azure round survey, And view those lamps, which yield eternal day. Bring forth thy glasses 5 clear thy wond'ring eyes ; Millions beyond the former millions rise : Look further: — millions more blaze from remoter skies. END OF PART I. Londo7i , William. Dartun, 58, HoU'ornr.lHiU & *iSjbMi Hy fey, Ss >— ^ l ^— ' of every description . ' "\ "as soou as Biblifliecl. ff^y.^cr'/.; //I ft// JftttS/ttftyf-J. ^Z > (cither iu. V^> — - V^T QJ^tam &r / j/cc/f//// _^) ///////, //ts/j.