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I have hitherto been a member? If my book has any tendency to do good, as I flatter myself it has, I would not, for the wealth of the Indies, do any thing to counteract that tendency; and I am afraid that tendency might in some measure be counteracted, (at least in this country,) if I were to give the adversary the least ground to charge me with inconsistency. It is true, that the force of my reasonings cannot be really affected by my character: truth is truth, whoever be the speaker; but even truth itself becomes less respectable when spoken, or supposed to be spoken, by insincere lips. It has also been hinted to me, by several persons of very sound judgment, that what I have written, or may hereafter write, in favour of religion, has a chance of being more attended to, if I continue a layman, than if I were to become a clergyman. Nor am I without apprehensions (though some of my friends think them ill-founded) that, from entering so late in life, and from so remote a province, into the church of England, some degree of ungracefulness, particularly in pronunciation, might adhere to my performances in public, sufficient to render them less pleasing, and consequently less useful."

In the summer of 1771 Dr Beattie paid a second visit to London, and was introduced to all the literary society of the metropolis. He repeated his visit in 1773, on which occasion he was admitted an honorary doctor of law at Oxford, had an interview with royalty, and received a substantial mark of favour in an annual pension of £200. Towards the close of the year 1773, there was a proposal for transferring Dr Beattie to the university of Edinburgh: this he declined chiefly, it would appear, from the dread of having to encounter there many machinations and subtle inventions of the sceptical philosophers, whose head-quarters he deemed Edinburgh to be, and who, he appears to have thought, would certainly plot his destruction if he was so foolhardy as to place himself within their reach. The reader will often be reminded of poor John Dennis's dread of the French court in perusing that portion of Dr Beattie's voluminous correspondence which relates to this matter. "There are about thirty pages of anxious elaborate correspondence on this subject, which illustrate, more than any thing we have lately met with, the importance of a man to himself, and the strange fancies that will sometimes be engendered between self-love and literary animosity. With no better grounds of apprehension than we have already mentioned, Dr Beattie writes:-' Even if my fortune were as narrow, &c. I would still incline to remain in quiet where I am, rather than, by becoming a member of the university of Edinburgh, place myself within the reach of those who have been pleased to let the world know that they do not wish me well;—not that I have any reason to mind their enmity, &c. My cause is so good, that he who espouses it can never have occasion to be afraid of any man.' If he had actually been in danger of poison or stilettoes, he could not have used other language. He proceeds afterwards: As they are singular enough to hate me for having done my duty, and for what I trust (with God's help) I shall never cease to do, (I mean for endeavouring to vindicate the cause of truth, with that zeal which so important a cause requires,) I could never hope that they would live with me on those agreeable terms on which I desire to live with all good men,' &c. And in another epistolary dissertation on the same subject, he adds,

with some reference to the members of the Edinburgh university, which we are persuaded was without foundation. "I should dislike very much to live in a society with crafty persons, who would think it for their interest to give me as much trouble as possible; unless I had reason to think that they had conscience and honour sufficient to restrain them from aspersing the innocent.'

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Dr Beattie published a volume of Essays in 1776, and another in 1783; a treatise on the Evidences of Christianity in 1786, and an outline of his academical lectures in 1790. These constituted all his prose publications. The first canto of the Minstrel' was published in 1771. It took well, probably more in consequence of its author being already known by his Essay on Truth.' It is by no means a poem of the highest order; yet it contains some beautiful descriptions and fine sentiments, and will always be read with pleasure by gentle and cultivated minds. The author makes the following remarks upon his own poem in his letters to Lady Forbes: "Again your ladyship must have observed, that some sentiments are common to all men; others peculiar to persons of a certain character. Of the former sort are those which Gray has so elegantly expressed in his Church-yard Elegy;' a poem which is universally understood and admired, not only for its poetical beauties, but also, and perhaps chiefly, for its expressing sentiments in which every man thinks himself interested, and which, at certain times, are familiar to all men. Now the sentiments expressed in the 'Minstrel,' being not common to all men, but peculiar to persons of a certain cast, cannot possibly be interesting, because the generality of readers will not understand, nor feel them so thoroughly as to think them natural. That a boy should take pleasure in darkness or a storm,—in the noise of thunder, or the glare of lightning; should be more gratified with listening to music at a distance, than with mixing in the merriment occasioned by it; should like better to see every bird and beast happy and free, than to exert his ingenuity in destroying or insnaring them, these, and such like sentiments, which, I think, would be natural to persons of a certain cast, will, I know, be condemned as unnatural by others, who have never felt them in themselves, nor observed them in the generality of mankind. Of all this I was sufficiently aware before I published the 'Minstrel,' and therefore never expected that it would be a popular poem." What follows, however, as it partakes of anecdote, will probably be more interesting to most readers. "I find you are willing to suppose, that, in Edwin, I have given only a picture of myself as I was in my younger days. I confess the supposition is not groundless. I have made him take pleasure in the scenes in which I took pleasure, and entertain sentiments similar to those, of which, even in my early youth, I had repeated experience. The scenery of a mountainous country, the ocean, the sky, thoughtfulness and retirement, and sometimes melancholy objects and ideas, had charms in my eyes, even when I was a school-boy; and at a time when I was so far from being able to express, that I did not understand my own feelings, or perceive the tendency of such pursuits and amusements; and as to poetry and music, before I was ten years old I could play a little on the violin, and was as much master of Homer and Virgil, as Pope's and Dryden's translations could make me."

In 1796 Dr Beattie lost a favourite son, his only surviving child.

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This event, says his biographer, completely unhinged his mind," the first symptom of which, ere many days had elapsed, was a temporary but almost total loss of memory respecting his son. Many times he could not recollect what had become of him; and after searching in every room of the house, he would say to his niece, Mrs Glennie, 'You may think it strange, but I must ask you if I have a son, and where he is?' She then felt herself under the painful necessity of bringing to his recollection his son Montagu's sufferings, which always restored him to reason. And he would often, with many tears, express his thankfulness that he had no child, saying, 'How could I have borne to see their elegant minds mangled with madness!' When he looked for the last time on the dead body of his son, he said, 'I have now done with the world:' and he ever after seemed to act as if he thought so. For he never applied himself to any sort of study, and answered but few of the letters he received from the friends whom he most valued. Yet the receiving a letter from an old friend never failed to put him in spirits for the rest of the day. Music, which had been his great delight, he could not endure, after the death of his eldest son, to hear from others; and he disliked his own favourite violoncello. A few months before Montagu's death, he did begin to play a little by way of accompaniment when Montagu sung: but after he lost him, when he was prevailed on to touch the violoncello, he was always discontented with his own performance, and at last seemed to be unhappy when he heard it. The only enjoyment he seemed to have was in books, and the society of a very few old friends. It is impossible to read the melancholy picture which he draws of his own situation about this time, without dropping a tear of pity over the sorrows and the sufferings of so good a man thus severely visited by affliction." From this time Dr Beattie's health gradually declined. In 1799 he was struck with paralysis. lingered in a hopeless state till June 1803, when death relieved him from all mortal infirmity.

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A great portion of Dr Beattie's correspondence is before the public in Sir William Forbes's splendid biographical volumes. We are not sure that the Doctor's memory has reaped much advantage from the care and industry of his literary executor in this respect. They are full of trite criticisms and egregious common-places; and what is still worse, in many instances appear to have been nothing better than a commerce of mutual flattery." An anonymous author says of this portion of Dr Beattie's literary remains, that "the reader is sometimes tempted to suspect that he has been called to be present at a farce, where the principal persons are flattering for a wager. During the perusal, we have been obliged again and again to endeavour to drive out of our imagination the idea of a meeting of Chinese mandarins,— where the first bows to the floor,-and then the second mandarin bows to the floor, and then the first mandarin bows again to the floor; and thus they go on till friendship is satisfied or tired."

Of his great work, the Essay on the Nature and Immutability of Truth,' little is now said. Indeed we question if it is read by one in twenty students of mental philosophy. It betrays greater warmth of temper than powers of reasoning, and abounds with such babyish interjections, as Fy on it! Fy on it!" "Ye traitors to human kind!" Ye murderers of the human soul!" "Vain hypocrites !" &c. &c. What

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ever, says the Edinburgh reviewer of Sir William Forbes's volumes, may be the excellence of the common-sense school of philosophy, he certainly has no claim to the honours of a founder. He invented none of it; and it is very doubtful with us, whether he ever rightly understood the principles upon which it is rested. It is unquestionable, at least, that he has exposed it to considerable disadvantage, and embarrassed its more enlightened supporters, by the misplaced confidence with which he has urged some propositions, and the fallacious and fantastic illustrations by which he has aimed at recommending them. His confidence and his inaccuracy, however, might have been easily forgiven. Every one has not the capacity of writing philosophically; but every one may at least be temperate and candid; and Dr Beattie's book is still more remarkable for being abusive and acrimonious, than for its defects in argument or originality. There are no subjects, however, in the wide field of human speculation, upon which such vehemence appears more groundless and unaccountable, than the greater part of those which have served Dr Beattie for topics of declamation or invective."

Richard Owen Cambridge.

BORN A. D. 1717.-DIED A. D. 1802.

RICHARD OWEN CAMBRIDGE, though not possessed of high claims to literary fame, was throughout an extended life one of those writers who, without any great share of intellectual power, keep themselves nevertheless pretty prominently before the public, and maintain a position always respectable, if not commanding, in the commonwealth of letters. He was born in London, in the year 1717. His father dying soon after the birth of his son, the care of his education devolved on his mother and his maternal uncle. He was sent at an early period to Eton school, where he enjoyed the friendship of Bryant, Gray, West, Horace Walpole, Lord Sandwich, and several other youths, who afterwards rose to eminence in the political or literary world. From Eton, he removed to St John's college, Oxford: but he left the university without a degree. In 1737 he became a member of Lincoln's inn, but was never called to the bar. Relieved from the necessity of exertion for his maintenance, having been born to a considerable fortune, and remarkably exempt, as his biographer informs us, from "those passions which usually incline men to exchange domestic enjoyments for the toil of public business," he contented himself with admission to a large and distinguished circle of society, amongst whom he could enjoy the pleasures of polished intercourse, and receive the respect due to his various talents and accomplishments. In 1741 he entered into the married state, and settled at his family-seat of Whitminster in Gloucestershire, where he wrote the 'Scribleriad,' a mock-heroic poem, which was published in 1751, and amused himself with improving his estate. He afterwards removed to Twickenham, where he continued to reside during the remainder of his life. In 1761 he published his "History of the War on the coast of Coromandel,' a work elegantly and simply written, but which has been superseded by the more elaborate work of Mr Dowe.

He at one time meditated a larger work on Indian affairs, but gave up the design, probably as much in consequence of his aversion to any thing like the toils of authorship, as of the commencement of Mr Orme's work. Occasional contributions to periodical papers, particularly 'The World,' and the composition of some little poetical pieces and vers de societé, were better suited to his habits and cast of mind, and with these he often amused himself. In the more advanced period of his life, it does not appear that the honourable and envied appellation of 'Fortunate senex' could ever be more appositely applied than to Mr Cambridge. He lived esteemed for his learning and accomplishments, and beloved for every amiable quality, and he expired without a sigh, in the bosom of his family, on the 17th of September, 1802. About a year after his death, his son, the Rev. George Owen Cambridge, published a splendid edition of all his works, with the exception of his history of the Coromandel war, to which he prefixed an account of his life and writings.

Jacob Bryant.

BORN A. D. 1715.-DIED A. D. 1804.

JACOB BRYANT, an eminent philological writer, was born at Plymouth in Devonshire, where his father had an office in the customs, and after receiving his grammatical education at Eton, was removed to King's college, Cambridge, where he obtained a fellowship, and took the degree of M. A. in 1744. His love of literature gained him great reputation, but, declining to take orders, he formed a connection with the Marlborough family, and superintended their education. This connection probably arose from his acquaintance with the late duke when at Eton. Mr Bryant afterwards attended his Grace, as secretary, in his military expeditions, as well as at the board of ordnance, of which the duke was master-general. Upon the death of his patron, Mr Bryant settled at Cypenham in Berkshire, and though possessed of only a small income, refused the situation of master of the Charter-house, which was tendered to his acceptance, preferring to devote the remainder of his days to the pursuit of literature. His first avowed publication appeared in 1767, entitled 'Observations and Enquiries relating to various parts of Ancient History; containing Dissertations on the wind Euroclydon, on the Island of Melite, with an account of Egypt in its most early state, and of the Shepherd Kings,' in 4to. This volume abounds with learned researches and adventurous conjectures, but in the latter part of his life he relinquished some of the opinions which he had therein broached. In 1774 appeared the first two volumes of his most celebrated work, 'The Analysis of Ancient Mythology,' which was followed by a third volume in 1776. This work met with many admirers, but at the same time subjected the author to a good deal of severe criticism, chiefly on account of Mr Bryant not being sufficiently acquainted with the oriental languages to avoid the errors which exposed him to such animadversion; but, even admitting all its errors, the work will constitute an epoch in literature, and even do honour to its author's name and country. The general object of Mr Bryant's work was to sap the cause of infidelity, by establishing the truth of the scriptures, and

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