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GREAT SCHOLARS.
CABINET OF BIOGRAPHY.
Crown Svo. Each Vol. 2s. 6d.
MASTERS IN HISTORY—
Gibbon, Grote, Macaulay, Motley. I!y the Rev.
Peter Anton, Dysart.
" Displays a thorough mastery of the subject, and considerable faculty
of appreciative criticism." — Scots7iian.
"The purpose of Mr Anton's volume seems to be excellent, and its
fulfilment leaves little to be desired." — Publisher^ Circular.
" Written with no little skill and judgment, and should find a place in
every literary institute and parish lending library." — John Bull.
" Admirably-drawn portraits. The lives are told with simplicity and
clearness." — Daily Review '■
GREAT NOVELISTS —
Scott, Thackeray, Dickens, Lytton. By James
Crabb Watt.
" Mr Watt's volume is on the whole carefully done, and likely, we should
think, to be of interest and service to the class to which it appeals." —
Academy.
" The series bids fair to fulfil an interesting and useful purpose." — Leeds
Mercury.
"An admirable series of biographical sketches." — Aberdeen Journal.
GREAT SCHOLARS-
BUCHANAN, Bentley, Torson, Farr, etc. By Henry
James Nicoll.
ENGLAND'S ESSAYISTS—
Bacon, Addison, De Quincey, etc. By the Rev.
Peter Anton, Dvsart. Author of "Masters in
History." {In October.
Other Volumes in preparation.
GREAT SCHOLARS.
BUCHANAN
BENTLEY
PORSON
PARR
AND OTHERS.
BY
HENRY JAMES NICOLL.
"' Biography is by nature the most universally profitable, universally pleasant, of
all things, especially Biography of distinguished individuals."-- Carlyle.
——*— --7
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EDINBURGH:
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PREFACE.
Neither this book nor the series of which it forms a
part pretends to any higher claim than to be a concise
epitome of the lives which it recounts, designed for those
whom youth, business, disinclination, or lack of oppor-
tunity prevents perusing long biographies, but who never-
theless desire, as shortly as may be, to know what those
great men were, what they did, and how they did it.
The design being purely personal, criticism is introduced
only to give a more complete presentation of the subjects
and the lessons they teach, and to illustrate, embellish,
or vary the narrative. We are sanguine that such an
effort will be found to be of use by those among whom
it is believed to be most desiderated.
For further information regarding the principal sub-
jects treated of in this book, the reader is referred to
Irving's "Life of Buchanan;" Monk's "Life of Bentley;"
Watson's " Life of Porson ; " and Johnstone's " Life of
Parr."
CONTENTS.
PAGR
GEORGE BUCHANAN,
I
RICHARD BENTLEY,
35
RICHARD PORSON, .
91
SAMUEL PARR,
139
MISCELLANEOUS,
189
GEORGE BUCHANAN.
GEORGE BUCHANAN.
Of those who in modern times have acquired a profound
knowledge of the Latin tongue, and have written in it
with purity and correctness, George Buchanan stands
among the first. His name is indeed one of which all
Scotchmen may well be proud, for it alone is sufficient
to redeem, in great measure, the fame of Scottish class-
ical learning from the slurs which have been so often
cast upon it. Dr Johnson, who was never tired of sneer-
ing at the scholarship of Scotland, and whose political
principles were by no means such as to prejudice him in
Buchanan's behalf, is nevertheless constrained to own
his superiority. In his " Journey to the Western Islands,"
he says : — " At an hour somewhat late we came to St
Andrews, a city once archiepiscopal ; where that uni-
versity still subsists in which philosophy was taught by
Buchanan, whose name has as fair a claim to immortality
as can be conferred by modern Latin, and perhaps a
fairer than the instability of modern languages admits."
Buchanan's knowledge of Latin was by no means con-
fined to grammatical minutiae and verbal subtleties : he
was as familiarly acquainted with all its resources as he
was with those of his mother tongue — perhaps even more
so. He has written Latin prose with an elegance and
vigour which Livy might have envied, and some of his
Latin verses possess such sweetness and grace that Virgil
himself would not have disdained to own them.
George Buchanan was born in the parish of Killearn,
4 Great Scholars.
Stirlingshire, in February 1506. He came, to use his
own words, " of a family more distinguished by antiquity
than opulence." He was the third of a family of eight
children, who, by the premature death of their father and
the insolvency of their grandfather, were left solely de-
pendent upon their mother's industry. George received
the rudiments of education at the parish school of his
native village. Even then he began to show signs of
superior genius, which attracting the attention of his
maternal uncle, James Heriot, induced him to undertake
the future care of his education. By him accordingly, in
1520, George was sent to Paris to prosecute his studies
at the university there.
It was then very generally the custom, for such Scotch-
men as could afford it, to send their sons to be educated at
that famous university, which at that period attracted
students from all parts of Europe. The ancient friend-
ship between France and Scotland, firmly cemented by
strong mutual hatred of England, partly conduced to
this ; and, doubtless, the polished manners and superior
accomplishments of the French were not without their
attractions to the rugged Scotchmen of the time. It
would be curious to know what were the feelings of the
poor Scotch lad when he found himself in that great and
brilliant city, so far different from anything he had
hitherto been accustomed to. The sudden transition
from the parish school of a petty Scotch village, to the
greatest university then in existence, must have been a
very startling one. Of his feelings, however, we have
no record, and the account of how he passed his time is
sufficiently meagre. That he studied with the utmost
assiduity is apparent from what he accomplished after-
wards, and from his own words, for he incidentally men-
tions that his knowledge of Latin was the result of much
George Buchanan. 5
juvenile labour. Even at this early age he began to give
evidence of these poetical talents which he possessed in
such a marked degree, being impelled thereto, he tells
us, partly by natural impulse and partly by the necessity
of performing the usual exercises incumbent on the
younger students. His residence in Paris was brought
to a sudden close by the death of his kind uncle in 1522,
when he found himself, to use the simple and pathetic
language of the autobiography, attacked by a severe
disease and surrounded by want on every side. At the
age of sixteen he was accordingly compelled to return to
his native country.
Buchanan's future prospects must have at this time
appeared very clouded. After devoting the best part of
a year to the care of his health, he entered the service of
the Duke of Albany, the Regent of Scotland, as a com-
mon soldier. He tells us that he went into the army to
learn the art of war ; but probably needy circumstances
had more to do with his taking such a step than the
desire of attaining military knowledge. Anyhow his
military ardour was not of long duration. In October
1523 he proceeded with the troops to the siege of
Werk, and being during the campaign subjected to severe
hardships from heavy showers of snow, his frame was
reduced to its former state of weakness, and he bade
military life a farewell for ever. Buchanan must have
found his experience as a soldier stand him in good
stead when he came to write his history, where military
exploits are often described with great animation and
clearness. Gibbon, in his autobiography, has informed
us that he found his experience while serving with the
Hampshire militia of the utmost value and importance
to him while treating of military affairs in his great
narrative.
6 Great Scholars.
Having recovered his health, Buchanan again devoted
himself to the more congenial pursuit of learning. At
the age of eighteen he entered the University of St
Andrews, which has the honour of counting him among
its graduates. He took his degree there in 1525. It is
worth mentioning that among his fellow students was
John Knox, who then entered into a close friendship
with him which was terminated only by death. Knox,
writing towards the close of his life, speaks of him thus :
— " That notabil man, Mr George Bucquhanane remanis
alyve to this day, in the yeir of God 1566 yeares, to the
glory of God, to the gret honour of this natioun, and to
the comfort of thame that delyte in letters and vertue.
That singular work of Davidis Psalmes, in Latin meetere
and poesie, besyd many others can witness to the rare
grace of God given to that man." While at St Andrews
Buchanan attended the lectures of John Mair or Major
on the "art of logic, or rather sophistry," as he expresses
it. In company with Major he returned to France and
entered the Scottish College of Paris. There he grad-
uated as B.A. in 1527, and as M.A. in 1528.
After a hard struggle for two years with the " iniquity
of fortune," as he terms it, Buchanan was appointed a
regent or professor in the College of St Barbe, where he
taught grammar for three years. This chair seems to
have yielded him a very scanty pittance. Fortunately,
however, he became acquainted with the young Earl of
Cassilis, who was residing in the locality. Admiring
Buchanan's conversational powers and various accom-
plishments he engaged him as his tutor. The connec-
tion appears to have been a happy one on both sides.
To Lord Cassilis as " a youth of promising talents and
excellent disposition," Buchanan inscribed his first pub-
lished work — a translation of Linacre's Latin Grammar,
which appeared in 1533.
George Buchanan. 7
In 1537, Buchanan and his pupil returned to Scotland.
While in Paris, Buchanan seems to have seriously turned
his attention to the doctrines of the Reformation, and
to have embraced the tenets of Luther, though he then
considered it advisable to keep his opinions concealed.
While residing at the Earl of Cassilis's seat in Ayrshire,
he appears to have meditated deeply over the abuses of
the Church of Rome. His meditations resulted in a
Latin poem, bearing the title of " Somnium ;" or, " The
Dream," in which the impudence and hypocrisy of the
Franciscan monks are attacked with much pungent rail-
lery. In attacking the monks, Buchanan soon found he
had attacked a dangerous enemy, and he was thinking of
returning to France when James V. took him under his
protection, and appointed him tutor to his natural son,
James Stewart, who afterwards held the abbacies of Kelso
and Melrose. The king, who was at this time on bad
terms with the clergy, commanded Buchanan to write a
second satire against them. Taught by experience to
dread the hostility of the hierarchy, Buchanan wrote a
light and playful piece, couched in such cautious lan-
guage as he hoped might occasion little animosity. This
by no means satisfied the king, whose own vein of satire
was coarse and rough, while, of course, it was displeasing
to the ecclesiastics. James then commanded Buchanan
to expose their vices in a more damaging light, and this
time the royal mandate was obeyed to the fullest extent
in a satire entitled, "Franciscanus."
" Franciscanus " is an excellent specimen of what may
be called classical Billingsgate. Like all Buchanan's
other works, it is distinguished by the elegance and
purity of its Latinity. The argument is briefly as fol-
lows : — He supposes that a friend of his is desirous of
becoming a cordelier ; upon which he tells him that he
8 Great Scholars.
also at one time had similar intentions, but that a third
person, whose reasons he proceeds to relate, had dissuaded
him from it. These reasons consist of the abominable
morals of those who belong to the order, as exhibited in
the detestable precepts which he puts into the mouth of
an ancient monk, the instructor of novices. Buchanan
soon experienced the dangers of freedom of speech.
The rage of the ecclesiastics was redoubled, and soon
the flames of persecution burst forth. In the beginning
of 1539, five individuals suspected of favouring the
doctrines of the Reformation were committed to the
flames. Buchanan having been comprehended in the
general arrest, was not long in learning that poison is
mingled in the golden cups of those who associate with
princes, for James soon quailed before the storm which
he himself had been the means of exciting, and to him
he could no longer look for help. Moreover, he heard
that Cardinal Beaton had tendered the king a sum of
money as the price of his head ; so, being aware of
James's excessive propensity to avarice, he was compelled
to seek safety in flight. After encountering many dan-
gers from pestilence and robbers, he reached England
in safety, and was kindly received by Sir John Rains-
ford, to whom he has inscribed a poem in token of his
gratitude.
The popular commonplaces about the quietness and
monotony of a scholar's life by no means apply to
Buchanan. He lived in stirring times, and his life, for
the most part, was a singularly animated one — a life full
of difficulties manfully encountered, and success bravely
won. Of the state of England at that time, his own
words give an accurate and succinct account. " Here,"
he says, "in the same day and in the same fire, both
parties, protestant and papist, were burned together ;
George Buchanan. 9
Henry VIII., now in his old age, being more intent
upon his safety than the purity of religion." Soon find-
ing that in England there could be no abiding place for
him, he turned his thoughts once more towards France,
where, he knew, he had many old acquaintances who
would befriend him. To Paris accordingly he went, but
misfortune still followed his footsteps, for he found his
bitterest enemy, Cardinal Beaton, residing there as am-
bassador. In these circumstances he gladly accepted
the invitation of Andrew Govea, a Portuguese, principal
of the College of Guienne in Bordeaux, to become one
of the professors there.
At Bordeaux, he resided for three years, and, in spite
of the menaces of Cardinal Beaton, who wrote to the
Archbishop of Bordeaux to secure the person of the dar-
ing heretic, they appear to have been years of happiness
and comfort. The task assigned to him was the teach-
ing of the Latin language — a position for which he was
eminently qualified. Among his pupils was the celebrated
Montaigne, who was an actor in all his plays which were
represented there, and who mentions him several times in
his essays. A pleasing feature of Buchanan's life through-
out, is the close intimacy and friendship he cultivated
with all the leading scholars of the day with whom he
was brought into contact. In an age remarkable for the
number and virulence of its literary squabbles, he seems
to have been almost wholly exempt from them. Even
the elder Scaliger, whose vanity was something unique
and colossal, and whose quarrels with his learned con-
temporaries were of extreme frequency and acerbity, was
a warm friend of Buchanan, and speaks of him in terms
of the highest admiration. With all his learned colleagues
at Bordeaux, Buchanan seems to have worked most har-
moniously. While there, he devoted much attention to
io Great Scholars.
literary studies, writing his two tragedies, "Jephthes,"
and "Johannes Baptistes," besides translations of the
"Medea" and "Alcestis" of Euripides. The latter
amply prove that his acquaintance with Greek was far
from inconsiderable.
Upon leaving Bordeaux he returned to Paris, where
we find him officiating, in 1544, as a regent in the
College of Cardinal de Moine. Here he had for his
colleagues such celebrated men as Turnebus and Mure-
tus, names high among the leaders of the scholarship of
the day. In this situation he seems to have remained
till 1547, when, with his old friend Govea, he went, at
the instance of the King of Portugal, to Coimbra, to be
a professor at the university lately established there.
Fearing persecution for his religious views, he took care
to inform the king that " Franciscanus " had been written
at his sovereign's command. For a time all went on
prosperously. In 1548, however, Govea died, and, de-
prived of his protection, the unfortunate foreign pro-
fessors were left exposed to the jealousy of the natives
and the bigoted intolerance of the priests. As was natu-
ral, Buchanan especially was the object of their hatred.
The following account of his persecution is given in his
autobiography: — "Towards Buchanan in particular their
conduct was most bitterly tormenting, for he was a
stranger who had few to rejoice in his safety, sympathize
in his misfortunes, or who would move a step to avenge
his injuries. One crime with which he was charged was
a poem which he had written against the Franciscans,
which he himself, before he had left France, had taken
care to get explained to the King of Portugal, and which
his accusers knew nothing at all about ; for the only copy
he had ever parted with was to the King of the Scots, at
whose command it had been written. He was also accused
George Buchanan. 1 1
of having eaten flesh during Lent, when nobody in all Spain
abstains from it. Certain reflections against the monks
were also urged against him, which could have appeared
criminal to no one but to monks themselves. It was
likewise deemed a heinous offence because, in a con-
versation with some young Portuguese, when the Eucha-
rist was mentioned, he said it appeared to him that
Augustine seemed rather to favour the party condemned
by the Church of Rome. Two other witnesses, John
Talpin, a Norman, and John Ferrerius, a Piedmontese
— as he learned some years after — gave evidence that
they had heard several creditable persons affirm that
Buchanan entertained sentiments opposed to the
Romish religion."
After the Inquisition had harassed him for about a
year and a half, they sentenced him to be confined in a
monastery for some months, in order to be instructed in
the true doctrines of religion. While there he seems to
have been kindly enough treated by the monks, who, he
remarks, were ignorant of religion, but by no means
destitute of humanity. His confinement had one good
result, at all events. He passed the weary hours of his
captivity in writing his translation of the Psalms, one of
the chief pillars upon which his literary fame rests. Of
this work we shall have more to say hereafter. It is
curious to note how many celebrated works have had
their origin while their authors were in captivity. In
prison Cervantes began his immortal romance, Don
Quixote, which may be reckoned among the greatest
triumphs of human genius ; in prison Sir Walter Raleigh
found relief from his burden of care in writing his
History of the World ; and in prison John Bunyan
wrote that immortal dream, which, at first despised as
the puerile production of an illiterate tinker, has long
1 2 Great Scholars.
since taken its place high among the glories of English
literature. Truly
" Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a ca£re."
\-^
When at length he was restored to liberty, heartily sick
of Portugal, Buchanan embarked in a Greek vessel and
sailed to England. There he stayed only a short time,
although several positions of importance were offered
him. In 1553 he returned to France, to which country
he seems to have always been warmly attached. On his
arrival he wrote a poem, " Adventus in Galliam," in
which are represented the hatred and contempt he enter-
tained for the Portuguese, and his love and admiration
of the French. Having held the office of regent in the
College of Boncourt for two years, in 1555 he was
appointed tutor to Timoleon de Cosse, son of the cele-
brated Count de Brissac. By the Count he was treated
with the deference and respect to which his talents en-
titled him. He was even called upon to give his advice
in the military council. His introduction there is said
to have been effected in the following manner. Happen-
ing to enter an apartment near the hall in which the
marshal and his officers were engaged in discussing some
measure of great importance, and overhearing their
debates, he could not refrain from murmuring his dis-
approbation of the opinion supported by the majority.
One of the generals smiled at so unexpected a saluta-
tion, but the marshal, having invited Buchanan into the
council, enjoined him to deliver his reasons without re-
straint ; whereupon he proceeded to explain his reasons
of dissent with such clearness as to excite the wonder of
Brissac and his officers. In the end it turned out that
his opinion was correct.
George Buchanan. 13
With the Count de Brissac's family, Buchanan lived for
five years, residing alternately in France and Italy. His
pupil did not discredit him either in talents or character.
After a short but brilliant career he fell at the siege of
Mucidan, aged only twenty-six years. About this time
Buchanan wrote part of a philosophical poem of con-
siderable excellence, entitled " De Sphaera," which was
addressed to his pupil. But a more important matter
engaged much of his leisure. ! He studied, with more atten-
tion than hitherto, the religious controversies of the day.
The result of his studies was that he became a confirmed
Protestant, though for prudential reasons he did not at
that time openly renounce Catholicism. He candidly
owns that his attachment to the principles of the Refor-
mation had been increased by the intense malignity with
which the priests regarded him.
About the year 1562 he returned to Scotland. Queen
Mary was then reigning, loved and admired by all, in the
full tide of her beauty and prosperity. Buchanan had
before courted her favour by two epithalamia, one on her
marriage with the Dauphin, the other on her marriage
with Lord Darnley. Apparently his services had been
appreciated, for in 1562 we find him at court officiating
as classical tutor to the fair queen. Randolph, the
English ambassador, in 1562 writes thus from Edinburgh
to his employers : — "There is with the Queene one called
George Bowhanan, a Scottishe man very well learned,
that was schollemaster unto Monsr. de Brissack's son,
very Godlye and honest ; " and again : — " The Queene
readeth daylie after her dinner, instruckted by Mr George
Bowhanan, somewhat of Livy." It would form an in-
teresting picture, that of the beautiful young queen and
the stern old scholar, studying together Livy's classic
page, she nurtured in the lap of luxury, brought up with
1 4 Great Scholars.
the utmost tenderness and care, having scarcely ever
known what it was to have a wish unsatisfied or a desire
unappeased; he with his youth spent amid the hardships
of severe poverty, having had his way to fight in the world
against difficulties and dangers which would have utterly
discomfited any less courageous nature, every additional
step of success having been attained slowly and with
difficulty. If any seer could then have foretold to these
two what a change would occur in their relations to each
other within a few short years, how little credence would
have been placed in his prophecy. Within that time we
find Mary a fugitive in England, despised and hated by
those who had formerly admired and loved her most ; and
we find George Buchanan, her former friend and preceptor,
forming one of her principal accusers at the court of
Elizabeth.
In 1556 appeared the second edition of Buchanan's
translation of the Psalms. When the first edition
appeared is not altogether certain, there being no date
on the title-page. Both were printed at Paris, by Henry
Stephens, the famous Greek scholar. On the title-pa°-e
Buchanan is styled "Poetarum nostri sacculi facile
princeps." It is mainly upon this work that Buchanan's
fame as a poet rests. No modern writer of Latin has
written verses distinguished by so much real poetic
genius and grace of expression.
This work amply suffices to show that Buchanan had
studied the Latin poets, not as a pedagogue, but as a
man of poetic feeling and power. It was rather his mis-
fortune than his choice, that neglecting his own verna-
cular he composed his verses in Latin, — the rough and
homely language of Scotland cannot but have been dis-
tasteful to one whose reading had been devoted to the
great authors of antiquity, and who must have used Latin
George Buchanan. 1 5
as a medium of conversation to a very considerable
extent. At one time Buchanan's Psalms was a very
generally read work, in Scotland at any rate, and was
used by many as a school book. We have seen a literal
translation of it into English, published in 1816,
evidently intended as a " crib " for the use of schoolboys
of a bygone generation. At the time of its publication
it was received with a universal chorus of admiration.
Part of what Henry Stephens says on the subject is worth
quoting as shewing the inflated and ridiculous style in
which the scholars of that age were wont to address each
other in their formal and pedantic epistles. " You have
been too long concealed, my Buchanan : you must now,
as you perceive, come into public notice : whether you
will or not, I will drag you from your concealment. Are
you angry with me on this account; and yet I am either
deceived, or it shall be effected by my services, that
hereafter George Buchanan, a Scotchman, above all the
French and Italian poets of our age
" Laudetur, vigeat, placeat, relegatur, ametur."
For I willingly adopt a verse of Augustus in celebrating
so august a poet : and unless I were afraid to commend
you to your face, I should advance something much
more august. Yet what occasion have you for me to
publish your praise, since almost every verse that you
have composed proclaims your superior genius? At
present, therefore, I shall only mention one circum-
stance : as there is nothing more honourable, nothing
more splendid, than after excelling all others, at length
to excel one's self; so, in my judgment, you have most
happily attained to this praise in your version of the
Psalms. For in translating the other odes of this sacred
poet, you have been Buchanan, that is you have been as
1 6 Great Scholars.
conspicuous among the other paraphrasts, as the moon
among the smaller luminaries ; but when you come to
the one hundred and fourth Psalm, you surpass Buchanan;
so that you do not now shine like the moon among the
smaller luminaries, but, like the sun, you seem to obscure
all the stars by your brilliant rays." Stephens was by no
means alone in his extravagant praise. Pope Urban
VIII. is said to have averred that it was a pity it was
written by so great a heretic, otherwise it would have
been sung in the churches under his authoriiy ; the
famous Bishop Bedell loved it " beyond all other Latin
poetry," and Nicholas Bourbon declares that he would
rather have been the author of it than Archbishop of
Paris.
About this time, Buchanan also published Fratres
Fraterrimi, a volume of satires directed against the
abuses of the Church of Rome, and, in 1567, a volume
of miscellaneous poems, consisting of Elegiae, Silvae,
Hendecasyllabi.
Prefixed to the " Psalms " was a panegyric on Queen
Mary. The compliment must have been pleasing to her,
for in 1564, she conferred on Buchanan the temporalities
of Crossragwell Abbey, amounting to the yearly value
of £500 Scots. Sensible, however, that Mary's popular-
ity was on the wane, he sedulously cultivated the friend-
ship of the leaders of the Reformation party, having, on
his return to Scotland, joined the Protestant Church.
To the Earl of Murray, the principal man among the
reformers, he dedicated, in very flattering terms, a new
edition of his " Franciscanus." A vacancy occurring in
the Principalship of St Leonard's College, St Andrews,
Buchanan, through the influence of Murray, was appointed
to the vacant post. An inventory of the contents of the
chamber he there occupied has been preserved, and is
George Buchanan. 1 7
curious as showing with what humble furnishings people
were then satisfied. It runs as follows : — " Twa stan-
dard beds, the foreside of aik, and the northside and
fuits of fir. Item ane feather bed, and ane white plaid
of four ells and ane covering woven o'er with images.
Item another auld bed of harden filled with straw, with
ane covering of green. Item ane inrower of buckram of
five breeds, part green, part red to zaillow. Item ane
Flanders counter of the middlin kind. Item ane little
buird for the studzie. Item ane furm of fir and ane
little letterin of aik on the side of the bed with ane image
of St Jerom. Item ane stool of elm with ane other
chair of little price. Item ane chimney weighing .
Item ane chandler weighing ." As Principal of the
College, Buchanan appears for the first time in the
character of a preacher, part of his duties being to give
occasional prelections on theology. His reputation at
the University appears to have stood high ; in the Public
Register he is styled, " Pcetarum nostrse memoriae facile
princeps." A clearer proof of the esteem in which he
was generally held is to be found in the fact that he was
chosen Moderator of the General Assembly in 1567. He
had sat as a member of that body from 1563, and taken
a leading part in its debates, having been a constant mem-
ber of the more important committees.
Hitherto we have had principally to do with Buchanan
as a man of letters ; we have now to consider him as an
active participator in the tangled and troublous politics
of his time. To give a full account of all the transac-
tions in which he was engaged would be to write the
history of Scotland for the period, which we have no
intention of doing — it is enough that we relate the part
Buchanan took in them.
The popularity of Mary, which had at first been great
B
1 8 Great Scholars.
was not destined to be of long duration. The murders
of Rizzio and Darnley, and her marriage with Bothwell,
completely alienated those who had formerly been her
warmest supporters, and among them Buchanan, who
henceforth attacked the ill-fated queen with a severity
and acrimony which shewed that their former intimacy
had been powerless to mitigate in the smallest degree his
present animosity. The part Buchanan took in Mary's
affairs had exposed him to much abuse from her
partizans, and even others of less prejudiced opinions
have said that since Buchanan could not conscientiously
defend her, he might at least have preserved a kindly
neutrality towards his former patroness. But the fact of
the matter is that this was a time when it was impossible
for any Scotchman to be neutral. The blood of the
country was at fever heat, party spirit everywhere ran
high, families were divided among themselves as to the
great question of the queen's innocence or guilt ; and for
a man in Buchanan's position, having nearly all his
friends belonging to the party opposed to the queen, to
espouse the cause of neither side was a moral im-
possibility. When we consider that Mary's character,
down almost to the present day, has been debated among
historians with a sharpness and vigour, often very little in
accordance with the so-called "dignity of history," we can
imagine with what intensity of feeling her cause must
have been regarded in Buchanan's time. We shall touch
but briefly upon this part of Buchanan's life. Having
been appointed one of the Commissioners at the court of
Elizabeth to inquire into Mary's conduct, he wrote in
Latin a Detection of Mary's actions, which was in-
dustriously circulated in the English court, and after-
wards translated into English. It contains one of the
most damaging exposures of Mary's character and con-
George Buchanan. 1 9
duct ever issued. In connection with this matter, a very
serious charge has been brought against Buchanan of
having forged the letters and sonnets supposed to have
passed between Mary and Bothwell, from which it was
made to appear that she participated in the murder of her
husband. Of this there is no proof at all sufficient, and
it may safely be set down as one of the many calumnies
against Buchanan, which have had their origin in the
malice of his enemies.
When Buchanan returned to Scotland there came
along with him his patron, the Earl of Murray, who soon
afterwards fell by the hand of an assassin. For him
Buchanan appears to have entertained a deeper affection
than for any of the rest of his friends, and his disastrous
death must have grieved him deeply. Being suspicious
of the policy of the Hamiltons, by one of whom the out-
rage had been committed, he addressed " Ane admoni-
tion direct to the true lordis maintainers of the Kingis
graces authorite," in which he earnestly adjured them to
protect the young king and the children of the late king
from the perils which seemed to hang over them. In the
same year, 1570, he wrote another Scotch tract, entitled
" Chameleon," a satirical delineation of the wavering
politics of the Secretary Maitland. Regarding Buchanan's
composition in the vernacular, Dugald Stewart says : —
" When we read the compositions of Buchanan in his
native tongue, how completely are his genius and taste
obscured by these homely manners which the coarseness
of his dialect recalls ; and how difficult it is to believe
that they express the ideas and sentiments of the same
writer, whose Latin productions may vie with the best
models of antiquity."
In 1570 the Lords of the privy council appointed
Buchanan to the important office of tutor to the young
20 Great Scholars.
King James, in whom the hopes of the nation were now
centred. Along with him were associated a Mr Peter
Young and the abbots of Cambuskenneth and Dryburgh.
Young was a man of mild disposition, and seems to have
been considerably impressed with " the divinity which
doth hedge a king." Not so Buchanan. His notions of
discipline were of the strictest Spartan kind, and he fully
acted up to them, " being," as Irving says, " little
solicitous what impression the strictness of his discipline
might leave on the mind of his royal pupil." "Mr Peter
Young," says Sir James Melvil, " was more gentle, and
was loathe to offend the king at any time, carrying him-
self warily, as a man who had a mind to his own weal by
keeping of his majesty's favour ; but Mr George was a
stoic philosopher, who looked not far before him. A
man of notable endowments for his learning and know-
ledge of Latin poesie, much honoured in other countries,
pleasant in conversation, rehearsing at all occasions
moralities short and instructive, whereof he had abun-
dance, inventing where he wanted." Regarding
Buchanan's conduct to his royal pupil, Irving has
related some anecdotes, which agreeably diversify the
dreary pages of his erudite volume — surely one of the
dullest books ever written on an interesting subject. The
king, having coveted a tame sparrow which belonged to
his playfellow, the Master of Mar, solicited him without
effect to transfer his right ; and, in attempting to wrest it
out of his hand, deprived the animal of life. The boy
loudly lamented its fate, and the circumstances were
reported to Buchanan, who gave the young monarch a
box on the ear, and told him that what he had done was
like a true bird of the bloody nest to which he belonged.
Another anecdote is thus related: — " One of the earliest
propensities which James discovered, was an excessive
George Buchanan. 2 1
attachment to favourites ; and this weakness, which
ought to have been abandoned with the other charac-
teristics of childhood, continued to retain its ascendancy
during every stage of his life. His facility in complying
with every request alarmed the prophetic sagacity of
Buchanan. On the authority of the poet's nephew,
Chytraeus has recorded a ludicrous expedient which he
adopted for the purpose of correcting his pupil's conduct.
He presented the young king with two papers which he
requested him to sign ; and James, after having slightly
interrogated him regarding their contents, readily
appended his signature to each, without the precaution of
even a cursory perusal. One of them was a formal
transference of the regal authority for the term of fifteen
days. Having quitted the royal presence, one of the
courtiers accosted him with his usual salutation ; but to
this astonished nobleman he announced himself in the
new character of a sovereign ; and, with that happy
urbanity of humour, for which he was so distinguished,
he began to assume the high demeanour of royalty. He
afterwards preserved the same deportment towards the
king himself ; and when James expressed his amazement
at such extraordinary conduct, Buchanan admonished
him of his having resigned the crown. This reply did
not tend to lessen the monarch's surprise ; for he now
began to suspect his preceptor of mental derangement.
Buchanan then produced the instrument with which he
was formally invested ; and, with the authority of a tutor,
proceeded to remind him of the absurdity of assenting to
petitions in such a manner." James never forgot the
threatening appearance of his stern old preceptor : he
was accustomed to say of one of his courtiers, " that he
even trembled at his approach, it minded him so of his
pedagogue." The notions of these times as regards the
22 Great Scholars.
efficacy of severity in education were very different from
those entertained now; and it scarcely admits of a doubt
that if Buchanan had paid more attention to the feelings
of his pupil it would have been better for both parties.
James seems to have looked back to his early experience
with something of the same shuddering horror with which
his successor Charles II. used to recal the long lectures
he had to listen to from the Scotch Presbyterians.
The scheme of James's education appears to have been
wisely framed, including the learned languages, arith-
metic, geography, astronomy, rhetoric, logic, and history.
The day was passed as follows : — After morning prayers,
attention was devoted to the Greek authors, and the
royal pupil read a portion of the New Testament, So-
crates or Plutarch, and was exercised in the grammar rules.
After breakfast he read Cicero, Livy, Justin, or modern
history. In the evening he applied himself to composi-
tion, and, when he had time, to arithmetic or geography,
or to rhetoric and logic.
The after-history of James adds another to the many
convincing proofs that the force of nature is stronger than
the rod of the preceptor. James grew up to be a good
scholar, but in almost everything else he was directly the
opposite of Buchanan. Buchanan was a strong defender
of popular rights, James was one of the staunchest sup-
porters of the divine right of kings. Buchanan rails
against episcopal authority of all kinds in matters of
religion, James was a vehement High Churchman.
Buchanan seems to have been of a stiff and reserved
nature, steadfastly pursuing the even tenor of his way,
regardless of those around him, James all his life was too
ready of speech, and too easily led away by favourites.
For Buchanan's political opinions James had the deepest
abhorrence, and in his " Basilicon Doron " advi ses his
George Buchanan. 23
son not to attend to the abominable scandals of such men
as Buchanan and Knox, "who are persons of seditious
spirit, and all who hold their opinions." Yet James was
aware of Buchanan's merits as a scholar. At a disputa-
tion held in Edinburgh before his Majesty, one of the
English doctors expressed his admiration of the king's
Latinity. " All the world," replied the king, " knows
that my master, George Buchanan, was a great master in
that faculty. I follow his pronunciation both of the
Latin and the Greek, and am sorry that my people of
England do riot the like, for certainly their pronuncia-
tion utterly spoils the grace of these two learned languages.
But you see all the university and learned men of Scot-
land express the true and native pronunciation of both."
When Buchanan was accused of having made James a
pedant, he replied that it was " because he was fit for
nothing else." Certainly, if James had been born in a
private station, and received the education he did, it is
impossible to doubt but that he would have cut a much
more distinguished figure as one of the scholars of the
sixteenth century than he did as a king. He was the
very man to write long and absurd Latin epistles of the
same kind as those of which a specimen has been given
in the address of Henry Stephens to Buchanan.
Buchanan at this time held the office of keeper of the
privy seal, which entitled him to a seat in Parliament, in
the deliberations of which he took an active part. In
1570 he formed one of a commission appointed to exa-
mine and codify the existing laws. Owing to its extreme
difficulty, the scheme was never carried into execution.
He was also included in a commission formed to rectify
the inconvenience arising from the use of different Latin
grammars in schools. Along with two others he was
appointed to draw up a suitable manual, which, however,
24 Great Scholars.
did not stand its ground long. But the most important
business in which he was engaged, was as member of a
commission formed to enquire into the state of the uni-
versities. St Andrews formed the first object of investi-
gation, and for its improvement Buchanan drew up a
scheme in the Scotch language, containing many sensible
suggestions. One of its most remarkable features is the
number of learned men it evidently presupposes to be
residing in the nation.
In the midst of all these active occupations literature
was by no means neglected. Buchanan carried on an
active correspondence with many of the more prominent
scholars of the day — with such men as Beza, Serranus,
Roger Ascham, and others of great reputation of whom
even the names are now almost quite unknown. In
1576, he prepared his " Baptistes " for the press, and
dedicated it to the king in a style by no means courtly.
" This trifle," he says, " may seem to have a more im-
portant reference to you, because it clearly discloses the
punishment of tyrants, and the misery which awaits them
even when their prosperity is at the highest. That you
should now acquire such knowledge, I consider not only
as expedient, but even necessary ; in order that you may
early begin to hate what you ought ever to shun. I
therefore wish this work to remain as a witness to pos-
terity, that, if impelled by evil counsellors, or suffering
the licentiousness of royalty to prevail over a virtuous
education, you should hereafter be guilty of any improper
conduct, the fault may be imputed, not to your precep-
tors, but to you who have not obeyed their virtuous ad-
monitions." We cannot but wish that Buchanan should
have remembered that the passage of years makes a con-
siderable difference in the relations between teacher and
pupil, and have addressed James in a more conciliatory
George Buchanan. 25
manner. Irving says, " The dedication is characterised
by a manly freedom of sentiment, which has never been
surpassed on a similar occasion." Most people will be
inclined to think that the " manly freedom of sentiment"
approaches pretty nearly to insolence.
In 1579, appeared one of Buchanan's most important
works, the treatise " De Jure Regni apud Scotos." This
is put in the form of a conversation between himself and
Maitland, the queen's secretary, and contains a vigorous
dissertation on the true principles of government. It
was dedicated to the king in a somewhat similar strain
to the dedication of the " Baptistes," and certainly if
James's successors had followed its precepts, they would
have fared better than they did. The dedication is as
follows : — " Several years ago, when our affairs were in a
most turbulent condition, I composed a dialogue on the
prerogatives of the Scottish crown, in which I endea-
voured to explain, from their very cradle, if I may adopt
that expression, the reciprocal rights and privileges of
kings and their subjects. Although the work seemed to
be of some immediate utility, by silencing certain indi-
viduals, who, with importunate clamours, rather in-
veighed against the existing state of things, than examined
what was conformable to the standard of reason ; yet, in
consequence of returning tranquillity, I willingly con-
secrated my arms to public concord. But having lately
met with this disputation among my papers, and supposed
it to contain many precepts necessary for your tender age
(especially as it is so conspicuously elevated in the scale
of human affairs), I have deemed its publication expedi-
ent, that it may at once testify my zeal for your service,
and admonish you of your duty to the community.
Many circumstances tend to convince me that my pre-
sent exertion will not prove fruitless, especially your age
26 Great Scholars.
yet uncorrupted by perverse opinions, a disposition above
your age urging you to every noble pursuit, a facility in
obeying not only your preceptors, but all prudent moni-
tors ; a judgment and dexterity in disquisition which
prevents you from paying much regard to authority un-
less it be supported by solid argument. I likewise per-
ceive that by a sort of natural instinct, you so abhor
flattery, the nurse of tyranny, and the most grievous pest
of a legitimate monarchy, that you as heartily hate the
courtly solecisms and barbarisms, as they are relished
and affected by those who consider themselves as the
arbiters of every elegance, and who, by way of seasoning
their conversation, are perpetually sprinkling it with
majesties, lordships, excellencies, and if possible with
expressions still more putrid. Although the bounty of
nature, and the instruction of your governors, may at
present secure you against this error, yet I am compelled
to entertain some slight degree of suspicion, lest evil
communication, the alluring nurse of the vices, should
lend an unhappy impulse to your still tender mind, espe-
cially as I am not ignorant with what facility the external
senses yield to seduction. I have therefore sent you this
treatise, not only as a monitor, but even as an importu-
nate, and sometimes impudent dun, who in the turn of
life may convey you beyond the rocks of adulation, and
may not merely offer you advice, but confine you to the
path on which you have entered ; and if you should
chance to deviate, may reprehend you and recall your
steps. If you obey this monitor, you will ensure tran-
quillity to yourself and to your subjects, and will transmit
a brilliant reputation to the most remote posterity."
The " De Jure Regni " is a wonderfully outspoken
treatise, considering the time at which it was written.
Such doctrines as that the crown is not necessarily
George Buchanan. 27
hereditary, and that its transmission by natural descent
is not defensible except for its certainty ; that a violation
of the laws by the monarch is punishable even with
death, according to the enormity of the offence ; that
when St Paul talks of obedience to authority, he spoke
to a low condition of persons and to a minority in the
various countries in which they were — such doctrines as
these, however trite and commonplace they may appear
now, were far from being considered so in Buchanan's
day. Abroad the treatise was received with the utmost
enthusiasm, as we learn by a letter to Buchanan from
his friend Rogers. " Your dialogue ' De Jure Regni,' "
says he, " which you transmitted to me by Zolcher, the
letter-carrier of our friend Sturmius, I have received — a
present which would be extremely agreeable to me, if the
importunate entreaties of some persons did not prevent
me from enjoying it ; for the moment it was delivered
into my hand Dr Wilson requested the loan of it — he
yielded to the importunity of the chancellor, from whom
the treasurer procured a perusal of it, and has not yet
returned it ; so that, to this day, it has never been in my
custody." The opinions of Sir James Macintosh and
Dugald Stewart on this tractate may be of interest.
" The science," says Sir James, " which teaches the rights
of man, the eloquence that kindles the spirit of freedom,
had for ages been buried with the other monuments of
the wisdom and relics of the genius of antiquity. But
the revival of letters first unlocked only to a few the
sacred fountain. The necessary labours of criticism and
lexicography occupied the earlier scholars, and some time
elapsed before the spirit of antiquity was transfused into
its admirers. The first man of that period who united
elegant learning to profound and masculine thought was
Buchanan; and he, too, seems to have been the first
28 Great Scholars.
scholar who caught from the ancients the noble flame
of republican enthusiasm. This praise is merited by his
neglected though incomparable tract, ' De Jure Regni,'
in which the principles of popular politics, and the maxims
of a free government, are delivered with a precision and
enforced with an energy which no former age had equalled,
and no succeeding had surpassed." Dugald Stewart
says : " The dialogue of our illustrious countryman,
Buchanan, ' De Jure Regni,' .... bears a closer re-
semblance to the political philosophy of the eighteenth
century than any composition which had previously ap-
peared. The ethical paradoxes afterwards inculcated by
Hobbes as the groundwork of his slavish theory of
government, are anticipated and refuted ; and a powerful
argument is urged against the doctrine of utility which
has attracted so much attention in modern times. The
political reflections, too, introduced by the same author
in his History of Scotland, bear marks of a mind worthy
of a better age than fell to his lot." This book after-
wards went through some curious experiences. In 1584
the Parliament condemned the " Dialogue " and " His-
tory," and under a penalty of ^200 commanded every
person who possessed copies to surrender them within
forty days, in order that they might be purged " of the
offensive and extraordinary matters" which they con-
tained. In 1664 the Privy Council of Scotland issued a
proclamation forbidding all subjects, of whatever degree,
quality, or rank, from transcribing or circulating any
copies of a manuscript translation of the " Dialogue."
In 1683 the University of Oxford signalized itself by
consigning to the flames the political works of Buchanan,
Milton, and several other heretics, for containing doc-
trine " destructive to the sacred persons of princes, their
state and government, and of all human society."
George Buchanan. 29
We are now approaching the close of Buchanan's
long and eventful life. In his seventy-fourth year he
wrote a short account of his own life, to which frequent
reference has been made in these pages. It is a very
simply-written, straightforward, unostentatious produc-
tion. A letter written to his old friend Vinetus gives the
following interesting and not unpleasing view of his
closing years : — " Upon receiving accounts of you by the
merchants who return from your courts, I am filled with
delight, and seem to enjoy a kind of second youth, for I
am there apprised that some remnants of the Portuguese
peregrinations still exist. As I have now attained the
seventy-fifth year of my age, I sometimes call to remem-
brance through what toils and inquietudes I have sailed
past all those objects which men commonly regard as
pleasing, and have at length struck upon that rock beyond
which, as the ninetieth psalm very truly avers, nothing
remains but labour and sorrow. The only consolation
that now awaits me is to pause with delight on the recol-
lection of my coeval friends, of whom you are almost
the only one still surviving. Although you are not, as I
presume, inferior to me in years, you are yet capable of
benefiting your country by your exertion and counsel,
and even of prolonging, by your learned compositions,
your life to a future age. But I have long bidden adieu
to letters. It is now the only object of my solicitude
that I may remove with as little noise as possible from
the society of my ill-assorted companions, that I who am
already dead may relinquish the society of the living.
In the meantime I transmit to you the youngest of my
literary offspring, in order that, when you discover it to
be the drivelling child of my age, you may be less anxious
about its brothers." This letter expresses a state of feel-
ing not uncommon with those who have attained to
30 Great Scholars.
Buchanan's years. He writes as a man who feels that
for him the affairs of the world have no longer much
interest; instead of looking forward to the future, he
loves rather to contemplate the past, and meditate on the
transactions of bygone years. The letter was written in
a tremulous hand, but, as Thuanus says, in a gene-
rous style.
Buchanan's last, and in some respects greatest work,
was his " History of Scotland," which it is doubtful
whether he ever lived to see published. While the
narrative was printing in 1581 he was visited by Andrew
Melvin, James Melvin, and his cousin Thomas Buchanan.
Of this interview James Melvin has left an interesting
account, which we give in his own words, merely modern-
ising the spelling : — " When we came to his chamber we
found him sitting in his chair teaching the young man
that served him in his chamber to spell a, b, ab ; e, b,
eb, &c. After salutation Mr Andrew says, ' I see, sir,
you are not idle.' ' Better this,' quoth he, ' than steal-
ing sheep or sitting idle, which is as ill.' Thereafter he
showed us the epistle dedicatory to the king, the which,
when Mr Andrew had read, he told him that it was
obscure in some places, and wanted certain words to
perfect the sentence. ' I can do no more,' said he, ' for
thinking on another matter.' ' What is that ? ' said Mr
Andrew. ' To die,' quoth he ; ' but I leave that and many
more things for you to help.' We went from him to the
printer's shop, whom we found at the end of the seven-
teenth book of his ' Chronicle,' at a place which we
thought very hard for the time, which might be an occa-
sion of stopping the whole work, about the burial of
David Rizzio. Therefore, stopping the printer from pro-
ceeding, we came to Mr George again, and found him in
bed contrary to custom, and asking him how he did,
George Buchanan. 3 1
' Even going the way of welfare,' he replied. Mr Thomas,
his cousin, showed him the hardness of that part of his
writing, that the king would be offended by it, and that it
might cause all the work to be prohibited. ' Tell me,
man,' said he, ' if I have told the truth.' ' Yes,' said Mr
Thomas, ' I think so.' ' Then I will endure his anger
and all his kin's,' said he. ' Pray, pray to God for me,
and He will direct all' So by the time the printing of
his ' Chronicle ' was ended, that most learned, wise, and
godly man ended this mortal life."
The history was not finished till about a year after the
occurrences related above. In criticising his history we
must remember that the canons of historical criticism
were very different in Buchanan's day from what they
are in ours, more regard being paid to beauty of style
and interest of narrative than to careful accuracy and
diligent research. The earlier part of Buchanan's history
is almost valueless as a chronicle of facts, though some
semi-mythical stories, such as that of Macbeth, are told
with great animation. In the part which deals with
Queen Mary, he has followed the " Detection," previ-
ously mentioned, considerable parts of the two works
being identical. Apparently Livy was the writer whom
he principally imitated, and the resemblance between
the two histories in point of style and form is not incon-
siderable. Like Livy and the other ancient historians
he frequently puts pretty long speeches in the mouth of
his principal characters — speeches often remarkable for
the soundness of their principles, and the eloquence with
which they are written, but of course, with no pretentions
to authenticity. Robertson has given what appears to
us a very true character of Buchanan's history. " If his
accuracy and impartiality," says he, " had been, in any
degree, equal to the elegance of his taste and to the
3 2 Great Scholars.
purity and vigour of his style, his history might be placed
on a level with the most admired compositions of the
ancients. But instead of rejecting the improbable tales
of chronicle writers he was at the utmost pains to adorn
them, and has clothed with all the beauties and graces
of fiction, those legends which formerly had only its
wildness and extravagance." The history has been at
least twice translated — once by Watkins and again by
Aikman — in neither case with any great measure of
success. It may now be ranked among the many
famous books which are much talked of and almost
never read. The researches of later writers have long
ago superseded it as an accurate narrative, and the
students of modern Latinity, who might be induced to
read it by the elegance of its style, which is very great,
are few and far between.
At Edinburgh, on the 28th of September 1582,
George Buchanan breathed his last. He had a calm
and peaceful close to his troubled and restless life. He
was buried in Greyfriars' Churchyard, a great multitude
attending his funeral. No monument marks his grave,
but about the beginning of this century an obelisk was
erected to his memory in his native village of Killearn.
Buchanan's face is familiar to many from the stern
countenance which looks austerely on the world from the
cover of Blackwood's Magazine. It is a face eminently
characteristic of the man — firm, thoughtful, and inflex-
ible — the face of one who had come through many trials
and difficulties, who had been many a time exposed to
the " slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," and who
had borne them all with true Scotch stoicism, and over-
come them all with true Scotch perseverance. The
Museum at Edinburgh contains a skull which is com-
monly supposed to be that of Buchanan, " This skull,"
George Buchanan. 33
says Irving, "which is so thin as to be transparent, is
commonly shown in contrast to that of an idiot, which
is of prodigious thickness." In regard to dress and
appearance Buchanan is said to have been slovenly and
inattentive. So far as concerns those little traits of looks
and manners, which in a great man we look to with
so much interest, our information about Buchanan is
almost nil.
In his knowledge of Latin, it may be doubted whether
Buchanan has had any equal among the moderns — he
has certainly had no superior. This knowledge must
have been of great advantage to him in many ways.
Latin was then the diplomatic tongue of the republic of
letters, and the scholar was especially a citizen of the
world, not only in his fame and in his tastes, but in his
abode. But great as Buchanan's scholarship was, he was
no mere pedant. Although Ruddiman has shown that
in his translation of the psalms he was attentive to the
minutest points of Latin versification, it is by no means
a mere cento of expressions from Latin authors, it is
everywhere distinguished by the marks of a powerful and
original mind. His political principles are those of a
man who thought for himself, and who did not take his
opinions from books or from the men with whom he
came in contact. His " History of Scotland," obsolete
though it now is, will bear favourable comparison with
any other work of the age, not only in point of style, but
as regards historical accuracy. That he was a man of
pleasing and witty conversation is shown by the many
influential friends who sought his company, and by the
numerous apocryphal anecdotes which are clustered
round his name. Of his abilities in public life, the
numerous high offices he was thought fit to be entrusted
with, afford a sufficient proof.
34 Great Scholars.
Buchanan's moral character has been much assailed
by the venom of his enemies, but it has never been
proved at all clearly that he was guilty of any flagrant
faults ; and if proof had been possible, we may be sure it
would have been forthcoming. In his temper he was
severe even to moroseness, but when we consider the
many hardships he came through, we must admit that
it was only natural he should be eo immitior qui tolerav-
crat. That he was rather too violent a partizan cannot,
we think, be denied, but the same is true of almost every
prominent man of the age— for example, it is eminently
true of John Knox. That he was possessed of upright-
ness and probity his whole life bears witness. He seems
to have been a sincere friend, and no one ever attracted
so much love from troops of friends without being pos-
sessed of many amiable qualities. What faults he had
were not the faults of a base or servile nature, and the
whole tenor of his life and writings justifies us in con-
cluding him to have been a good, as well as a great
man.
RICHARD BENTLEY.
RICHARD BENTLEY.
Shakespeare is not more decidedly the greatest of
English poets, than is Richard Bentley the greatest of
English scholars. He has neither equal nor second.
Others, indeed, may have equalled him in special depart-
ments, but of the whole wide field of classical learning
no one ever acquired such a mastery as he. In his own
time the best scholars of this and other countries looked
on him with admiring respect ; and though the labours of
many minds have done much to advance scholarship
since then, though many points then enveloped in dark-
ness have since been made clear, his reputation still
shines with its former lustre, the star of his fame has
never waxed dim; in the world of classical learning
Richard Bentley is yet a name to conjure with, and those
who have made the greatest advances in that often dry
and difficult field of investigation, have ever been the
loudest in his praises. And Bentley was not merely a
great scholar ; in every sense of the word he was a great
man, great in intellect, and great in character. Haughty,
rash, imperious, his motto might have been like the
nation whose literature he loved so well, " Parcere sub-
jects et debellare superbos." The faults in Bentley's
character were not weaknesses ; they were the perverted
and abnormal growths of a strong and vigorous nature.
Often we must acknowledge him wrong, often unjust, often
tyrannical ; but servile, mean, and contempt ible — never.
38 Great Scholars.
Through all his long and troubled career he commands
our respect ; we cannot help having a lurking pleasure in
the discomfiture of his enemies, even while acknowledg-
ing the justice of their cause ; and his final triumph, after
so many hard-fought battles, inspires us with feelings of
the liveliest satisfaction.
Richard Bentley was born at Oulton, near Wakefield,
in Yorkshire, on January 27th 1662. His father was a
respectable yeoman of the higher class. He received his
early education at Wakefield Grammar School. As may
easily be believed, " he went through the school with
singular reputation for his proficiency as well as for his
regularity." Beyond this nothing appears to be known
of his school career, save that he always expressed the
greatest attachment to his place of education, and ex-
tended to those coming from it his encouragement and
patronage. At the age of fifteen Bentley was transferred
to St John's College, Cambridge. That he studied
diligently at the University may be easily gathered from
his subsequent achievements. Even at that early period
he appears to have struck out some of his valuable dis-
coveries in Latin metre, besides devoting considerable
attention to mathematics, for which, like Porson, he had
always a fondness. Of his contemporaries at the Univer-
sity, the only one with whom he maintained a friendship
in after life was the famous William Wotton, the most
extraordinary instance of juvenile precocity on record.
Well authenticated although the reports of this infant
prodigy are, one has considerable difficulty in crediting
them. It is certified by the testimony of many unim-
peachable witnesses that at six years of age he was able
to read and translate Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, to which
at seven he added some knowledge of the Arabic and
Syriac. At ten years old he was pronounced the equal
Richard Bent ley. 39
of Hammond and Grotius. At thirteen he took his
degree of B. A., being then acquainted with twelve lan-
guages ! It is unnecessary to mention that Wotton never
accomplished anything afterwards at all corresponding
to the promise of his youth. Even his most famous work
on " Ancient and Modern Learning " would now be
quite forgotten were it not for the famous controversy
with which it is connected.
In 1680 Bentley took his degree with distinction, his
position corresponding to that of third Wrangler accord-
ing to the present arrangement. He would doubtless
have been appointed to a fellowship, but was excluded
by a rule not rescinded till long after, which confined
the number of fellows born in each county to two. As
two Yorkshiremen already held fellowships, Bentley was
compelled to look elsewhere for sustenance, and accord-
ingly in 1682 accepted the appointment of head master
of the Grammar School of Spalding in Lincolnshire. It
must be remembered that at this time he was only about
twenty years of age, and, as his biographer says, the com-
mission of so important a trust to a youth, is not only a
testimony of his scholarship, but implies a high opinion
of the steadiness and discretion of his character.
This situation he soon exchanged for one more con-
genial to a man of his tastes. After holding it a year,
fortunately for the world of letters, as well as for himself,
he was appointed domestic tutor in the family of Dean
Stillingfleet, afterwards Bishop of Worcester. Stilling-
fleet, himself a person of considerable learning and
talents, doubtless duly appreciated his son's tutor, and
for Bentley the situation was about as desirable a one as
could be imagined. Stillingfleet possessed one of the best
private libraries in the country, of which Bentley made
full use, and besides this he had the opportunity of see-
40 Great Scholars.
ing and conversing with many of the leading men in the
kingdom who visited his patron. That Stillingfleet had
a pretty accurate appreciation of Bentley's character,
appears from the following anecdote : — A nobleman din-
ing at his patron's, and happening to sit next to Bentley,
was so much struck with his information and powers of
argument, that he remarked to the Bishop after dinner,
" My Lord, that chaplain of yours is certainly a very ex-
traordinary man." "Yes," said Stillingfleet, "had he
but the gift of humility he would be the most extra-
ordinary man in Europe." In the Bishop's household
Bentley passed six years, years doubtless of happiness
and peace, which he employed in laying the foundations
of his unrivalled learning.
Early in 1689 Bentley removed with his pupil to Wadham
College, Oxford, where he had access to the vast stores,
manuscript and otherwise, of the Bodleian Library. We
can imagine with what delight the young scholar, in the
pride of his youth and genius, availed himself of this
inestimable privilege. Here his unwearied industry and
fine sagacity found full scope, and he began to revolve in
his mind vast schemes of authorship from which a veteran
scholar might well have shrunk back dismayed. One of
these was a complete collection of the fragments of the
Greek poets — an undertaking of incredible difficulty,
seeing that they consist of scattered lines spread over
the whole great expanse of Greek literature. Another
project, involving at least equal labour, was an edition of
all the Greek lexicographers — Hesychius, Suidas, Pollux,
&c. Neither of these schemes was ever carried into exe-
cution, to the irreparable loss of Greek literature ; for it
may be safely asserted that, of all the scholars who have
lived before or since, Bentley was the man best qualified
to perform them. Bentley's first publication was by no
Richard Bentlcy. 4 1
means of so ostentatious a nature as the execution of
these two grand projects, yet it showed how perfectly fit
he was to engage in them. It was an Epistle to Dr John
Mill, appended to an edition of Malalas, a wretched
Byzantine chronicler. His remarks are far from being
confined to the author they are intended to illustrate;
they branch out into numerous side points, all alike
abundantly manifesting the learning of their writer. "On
the whole," says an able critic, "it might be fairly asserted
of the Epistle to Mill, that no work of classical criticism
had yet appeared since the revival of letters, which in the
same number of pages contained such variety of informa-
tion, so many happy emendations, or which so clearly
showed that a new school of criticism was about to
commence, which would own Bentley as its legitimate
parent."
Such was Bentley's first appearance as a scholar — we
have now to consider his first appearance in the less
congenial character of a divine. In 1692 he was ap-
pointed to deliver the first series of the lectures founded
by Robert Boyle. Much applauded as his lectures were
at the time, it is perhaps not an unfair criticism to say that
they interest the reader now chiefly as showing the style
of theological controversy current at that period. The
subject is a " Confutation of Atheism," and the im-
measurable scorn and contempt which Bentley pours upon
his adversaries, the coarse personalities he indulges in,
the tone of vast superiority assumed throughout, are such
as to make us thankful for the more Christian, tolerant, and
forbearing spirit with which such topics are now discussed.
He more than once hints that it would be desirable to
exert the strong arm of the law against his unfortunate
opponents. " It is a vigorous execution of good laws,"
he says, "and not rational discourses only, either neg-
42 Great Scholars.
lected or not understood, that must reclaim the profane-
ness of these perverse and unreasonable men." The
style, as in all Bentley's works, is strong, vigorous, and
direct; often rude, often uncouth, often almost vulgar, but
always clear and forcible. As a favourable example of
Bentley's English style, as well as a specimen of the
subject-matter of a book once much read and often
quoted, we may give the close of his refutation of the
Atomic Theory, at the end of the second lecture : — " It
would behove the Atheists to give over such trifling as this,
and resume the old solid way of confuting religion. They
should deny the being of the soul because they cannot
see it. This would be an invincible argument against us;
for we can neither exhibit it to their touch, nor expose it
to their view, nor show them the colour and complexion of
a soul. They should dispute, as a bold brother of theirs
did, that he was sure there was no God, because (says he)
if there was one, he would have struck me to hell with
thunder and lightning, that have so reviled and blas-
phemed him. This would be an objection, indeed.
Alas ! all that we could answer is in the next words to
the text, ' that God hath appointed a day in which He
will judge all the world in righteousness ; ' and the good-
ness, and forbearance, and long-suffering of God, which
are some of His attributes and essential perfections of His
Being, ought not to be abused and perverted into argu-
ments against His Being. But if this will not do, we
must yield ourselves overcome ; for we neither can, nor
desire, to ' command fire to come down from heaven to
consume them,' and give them such experimental convic-
tion of the existence of God. So that they ought to take
these methods if they would successfully attack religion.
But if they will still be meddling with atoms, be hammer-
ing and squeezing understanding out of them, I would
Richard Bentley. 43
advise them to make use of their own understanding for
the instance. Nothing, in my opinion, would run us
down more effectually than that ; for we readily allow, that
if any understanding can possibly be produced by such a
clashing of senseless atoms, it is that of an atheist, which
has the finest pretensions and the best title to it. We
know it is ' The fool that hath said in his heart, there is
no God ; ' and it is no less a truth than a paradox, that
there are no greater fools than atheistical wits, and none
so credulous as infidels. No article of religion, though
as demonstrable as the nature of the thing can admit,
hath credibility enough for them, and yet these cautious
and quick-sighted gentlemen can write and swallow down
this sottish opinion about percipient atoms, which exceeds
in incredibility all the fictions of ^Esop's Fables. For is
it not every whit as likely, or more, ' that cocks and bulls
might discourse,' and hinds and panthers hold confer-
ences about religion, as that atoms can do so — that
atoms can invent arts and sciences, can institute society
and government, can make leagues and confederacies, can
devise methods of peace, and stratagems of war ? And,
moreover, the modesty of mythology deserves to be com-
mended ; the scenes there are laid at a distance : it is,
Once upon a time, in the days of yore, in the land
of Utopia, there was a dialogue between an oak and a
cedar ; — whereas the atheist is so impudently silly as to
bring the farce of his atoms upon the theatre of the
present age ; to make dull, senseless matter transact all
private and public affairs, by sea and by land, in houses of
parliament and closets of princes. Can any credulity be
comparable to this ? If a man should affirm that an ape,
casually meeting with pen, ink, and paper, and falling to
scribble, did happen to write exactly the Leviathan of
Thomas Hobbes, would an atheist believe such a story?"
44 Great Scholars.
Perhaps the reader has now had enough of this Attic
style of controversy. This slashing style of criticism is
all very well when applied to secular topics, but when
such solemn and important themes are dealt with, it
seems strangely out of place.
In 1694 Bentley was appointed Keeper of the King's
Library, and in the same year was a second time appointed
Boyle Lecturer. His subject was a defence of Christi-
anity against the objections of infidels. Though the first
series had been so eminently successful, Bentley never
published the second, possibly because there were some
additional topics he was desirous of investigating, but had
not had time to attend to till the proper season for print-
ing had elapsed. In 1696 he quitted Bishop Stillingfleet's
to occupy his apartments as Royal Librarian. In 1696,
also, he took his degree of Doctor of Divinity, and trans-
mitted to his friend Graevius at Utrecht a series of notes
and emendations upon Callimachus, which were appended
to that scholar's edition of the poet, and added very
materially to its value.
We have now to consider that great controversy which
was the means of producing from Bentley his magnum
opus, and which of all literary squabbles is perhaps the
most interesting, not so much on account of the main
issue, which was soon lost sight of in the consideration of
minor matters, as for the eminence of the combatants on
both sides, and the fierceness and energy with which the
battle was carried on. A full account of it would form a
very entertaining chapter in literary history, but that can-
not be given here, so we shall only describe what relates
directly to the share Bentley took in it.
In 1692, Sir William Temple published a very foolish
essay on " Ancient and Modern Learning," in which he
discusses their comparative excellence, and decides in
Richard Bent ley. 45
favour of the former. When we mention that, among
eminent moderns, he omits to mention such names as
Shakespeare, Milton, Bacon, Newton, the value of this
production may readily be conceived. But what mainly
concerns our purpose is, that he remarked that " the
oldest books extant were still the best of their kind j" and
to prove his point, cited what he believed to be the most
ancient prose books written by profane authors, the
" Fables of vEsop," and the " Epistles of Phalaris." " As
the first," he says, " has been agreed by all ages since,
for the greatest master in his kind, and all others of that
sort have been imitations of his original ; so, I think, the
' Epistles of Phalaris ' to have more race, more spirit,
more force of wit and genius, than any others I have ever
seen, either ancient or modern." This extraordinary
judgment was the occasion of a controversy which, for a
time, convulsed the literary world, and gave Bentley an
opportunity of showing himself the greatest classical critic
the world has ever seen. " Such great events from little
causes spring."
It was the practice of Dr Aldrich, the Dean of Christ
Church, to employ the most eminent of the younger
members of that fraternity in preparing new editions of
classical authors, and he used to present a copy of one
of these publications as a new-year's gift to every young
man in his college. Now, when Phalaris had been so
warmly commended by a critic of such refined taste and
sound judgment, what writer more suitable than he to be
chosen as a subject for a young scholar's lucubrations?
Phalaris was accordingly fixed upon, and as his editor
was chosen the Honourable Charles Boyle, brother of the
Earl of Orrery, a young man distinguished for his studi-
ous habits and courteous manner.
Boyle, who doubtless had the assistance of older heads,
46 Great Scholars.
appears to have entered upon his duties with considerable
avidity. For the service of the edition he desired to
have collations made of all the manuscript copies access-
ible. One of these was in St James' Library, of which
Bentley was keeper. Boyle therefore wrote to a bookseller,
Bennet, desiring him to have the manuscript collated.
Bennet, who through the former part of this transac-
tion seems to have behaved with great carelessness, and
through the latter part with great duplicity, delayed ask-
ing the manuscript till 1694, when Bentley replied, that
he should be happy in an opportunity of obliging Mr
Boyle, a young man related to the illustrious founder of
his lecture, and that he would help him to the book.
In a conversation between him and the bookseller, when
asked his opinion of the work on which Mr Boyle was
employed, Bentley replied " that he need not be afraid
of undertaking it, since the good names of those that
recommended it would ensure its sale ; but that the book
was a spurious one, and unworthy of a new edition." To
excuse himself for his carelessness in procuring the col-
lation, Bennet wrote to Oxford saying, that he had long
solicited the manuscript in vain, and that Bentley had
spoken with contempt both of the book and its editors.
At length Bennet, whose conduct throughout deserves
the severest reprehension, procured the manuscript, but
as Bentley was going out of town in a few days, he told
him that no time must be lost in making the collation, as
the book must be replaced in the library before his de-
parture. There was abundance of time to accomplish the
collation ; but Bennet neglected to send the manuscript
to Gibson, the collator, till the very last moment, so that
by the time that it had to be returned, only forty Epistles
had been despatched. For all this delay, Bennet repre-
sented to his employers that Bentley had been respon-
Richard Bent ley. 4 7
sible, whereas in reality to him not a shadow of blame
could be attached.
In 1695 came out Boyle's edition of Phalaris, in the
preface to which it was stated that, up to the fortieth
letter, he had taken care to have the book collated with
the King's manuscript ; but that the librarian had denied
him the further use of it agreeably to his peculiar cour-
tesy (pro singulari sua humanitate). Bentley, on hearing
of this, immediately wrote to Boyle, explaining the true
facts of the case as we have stated them, and assuring
him that his suspicions of intended discourtesy were un-
founded. Boyle, however, rejected all pacific overtures,
and coolly replied, "that what Mr Bentley had said in
his own behalf might be true, but that the bookseller had
represented the matter quite otherwise, and to him he
was advised to prefer his complaint." He added, that if
this account had been received before, he should have
considered of it ; but that, after the publication, it was
too late to interpose ; and that Mr Bentley might seek
his redress by any method he pleased.
Thus was the gauntlet of war thrown down, but Bent-
ley was in no hurry to take it up. However, when a
second edition of his friend Wotton's " Reflections upon
Ancient and Modern Learning " was called for, Bentley
took advantage of a promise previously made to prove
the "Epistles of Phalaris" and "^Esop's Fables" spurious
productions. The Epistles he proves to be forgeries,
first, from their chronology, then from their language,
and then from their matter, and concludes with the argu-
ment of their late appearance in the world. In contrast
to Sir William Temple's glowing eulogium upon the mat-
ter of the Epistles, he writes : " It would be endless to
prosecute this part, and show all the silliness and imper-
tinency in the matter of the Epistles. For, take them in
48 Great Scholars.
the whole bulk, if a great person would give me leave, I
should say, they are a fardle of commonplaces, without
life or spirit from action and circumstance. Do but cast
your eye upon Cicero's letters, or any statesman's, as
Phalaris was ; what lively characters of men there ! what
descriptions of place ! what notifications of time ! what
particularity of circumstance ! what multiplicity of de-
signs and events ! When you return to these again, you
feel, by the emptiness and deadness of them, that you
converse with some dreaming pedant with his elbow on
his desk ; not with an active, ambitious tyrant, with his
hand on his sword, commanding a million of subjects."
Boyle's Edition of Phalaris is then subjected to a severe
criticism, and the pro singulari sua humanitate does not
pass without due animadversion. In conclusion, "./Esop's
Fables," as we now have them, are easily proved to be the
compilation of a monk Planudes. So much for Sir Wil-
liam Temple's two oldest prose writers ! It is almost
superfluous to say that this, like all Bentley's writings, is
written in a tone of immense superiority, which in this
case, indeed, he had a perfect right to assume.
The publication of Bentley's dissertation raised a com-
motion among learned circles such as has rarely k been
equalled. Who was he, a mere retired scholar, a groper
among old manuscripts and lexicographers, at the best
but a plodding bookworm, to set his opinion against that
of Sir William Temple, a man of fashion and culture, who
had passed his life in the courts of princes and the palaces
of the great ? " Few things in literary history," says Mac-
aulay, " are more extraordinary than the storm which
this little dissertation raised. Bentley had treated Boyle
with forbearance ; but he had treated Christ Church with
contempt : and the Christ Church men, wherever dis-
persed, were as much attached to their college as a Scotch-
Richard Bentley. 49
man to his country, or a Jesuit to his order. Their in-
fluence was great. They were dominant at Oxford,
powerful in the Inns of Court and in the College of
Physicians, conspicuous in Parliament, and in the lite-
rary and fashionable circles of London. . Their unani-
mous cry was, that the honour of the college must be
vindicated, that the insolent Cambridge pedant must be
put down."
In 1698 appeared the work which was intended to
crush Bentley for ever — " Dr Bentley's Dissertations on
the Epistles of Phalaris and the Fables of ^Esop, exa-
mined by the Honourable Charles Boyle, Esq." Though
this production bore Boyle's name on the title-page, most
of it was not written by him, but by a fraternity of Christ
Church wits and scholars, Atterbury taking the principal
part. Smalridge, Friend, and others also contributed por-
tions. On its first appearance the popularity of this work
was boundless, which will not be wondered at by those
who have looked though it. Not only are the arguments
against Bentley advanced in an extremely plausible man-
ner — in point of style it is a most entertaining book, and
any one coming across it, even though he knows nothing
about the questions it discusses, may pass some very
amusing hours turning over its pages. As to its real
value, Macaulay has discussed it in his most trenchant
style. " The book," he writes, " is indeed Atterbury's
masterpiece, and gives a higher notion of his powers
than any of those works to which he put his name. That
he was altogether wrong on the main question and on
all the collateral questions springing out of it, that his
knowledge of the language, the literature, and the history
of Greece was not equal to what many freshmen now
bring up every year to Cambridge and Oxford, and that
some of his blunders seem to deserve a flogging rather
D
50 Great Scholars.
than a refutation, is true ; and therefore it is that his
performance is, in the highest degree, interesting! and
valuable to a judicious reader. It is good by reason of
its exceeding badness. It is the most extraordinary
instance that exists of making much show with little sub-
stance." Perhaps the best part of the book is the grave
ironical argument to prove that, on his own principles,
Bentley could not be the author of his own pamphlet.
This is, indeed, very admirable fooling, and a few ex-
tracts may not be uninteresting. It must be remembered
that the fun consists in the adoption of Bentley's own
words almost throughout.
" If Dr Bentley's Dissertations should outlive some
centuries, which I am far from thinking they will ; and
should be read, which I am still further from suspecting ;
and should the critics of succeeding ages start a dispute
whether they be genuine or not ; I am of opinion as
strong and confident arguments may be brought to prove
them spurious and falsely ascribed to Dr Bentley, as any
the Doctor has used to show the letters now in debate to
be a thousand years later than Phalaris. ... I think he
would or might, in Dr Bentley's way or manner, and for
the most part in his very words too, argue against their
being truly his to whom they are ascribed. ' The sophist,
whoever he was, that wrote these loose dissertations in the
name and character of Dr Bentley (give me leave to say
this now, which I shall prove by and by) had not so bad
a hand at humouring and personating, but that some may
believe it is the librarian himself who talks so big ; and
may not discover the ass under the skin of that lion in
criticism and philology. But ... I am very much mis-
taken in the nature and force of my proofs, if any man
hereafter that reads them persist in his opinion of mak-
ing Dr Bentley the author of these criticisms. Had all
Richard Bentley. 5 1
other ways failed us of detecting this impostor, yet his
very speech had betrayed him, for it is that neither of a
scholar nor an Englishman, neither Greek, Latin, nor
English, but a medley of all three ; he had forgotten that
the scene of these writings was London, where the Eng-
lish tongue was generally spoken and written ; as, besides
other testimonies, the very thing speaks itself in the re-
mains of London authors, as the Gazettes, the cases
written by London divines, and others. How comes it
to pass, then, that our Doctor writes not in English, but
in a language further removed from the true English idiom
than the Doric Greek was from the Attic ? Why does
Dr Bentley, an Englishman, write a new language which
no Englishman before ever spoke or wrote ? How comes
his speech neither to be that of the learned, nor that of
his country, but a mixed parti-coloured dialect, formed
out of both ? Pray, how came that idiom to be the
court language of St James's?
******
" But were it possible to produce an author of the
same country and age with Dr Bentley, who wrote in the
language of this dissertation, yet still, it is absurd to
think that one of his education, character, and station
should be the author of it ; for Dr Bentley is known to
have appertained to the family of a Right Reverend pre-
late, who was the great ornament of that age ; to have
had a university education, and to have conversed much
in the city and at court ; and with these advantages, he
could not but be more refined than the writer of this
piece of criticism, who, by his manner of expressing him-
self, shows that he was taken up with quite other thoughts
and different images from those that used to fill the heads
of such as had a learned and liberal education ; for this
sophist is a perfect Dorian in his language, in his thoughts,
52 Great Scholars.
and in his breeding. The familiar expressions of ' taking
one tripping,' 'coming off with a whole skin,' 'minding his
hits,' ' a friend at a pinch,' ' going to blows,' ' setting horses
together,' ' going to pot,' with others borrowed from the
sports and employments of the country, show our author
to have been acquainted with another sort of exercise
than that of the schools.
******
"The sophist is not more happy in personating Dr
Bentley, when, through the whole course of these disserta-
tions, he represents him as a fierce and angry writer, and
one who, when he thinks he has advantage over another
man, gives him no quarter. For the writer of the Epistle
to Dr Mill, when he had just reason to be very severe on
some who had taken wrong measures in deducing the
etymology of a Greek word, thus represses his indignation :
' But I will not say anything severely of them ; it is
not in my nature to trample on the prostrate.' This
shows him to have been a man of temper and good
nature ; but our sophist represents him as one who has
no mercy upon his adversary, when he thinks he has him
in his power. The supposed editors of Phalaris, for
an imagined mistake in a point of criticism, are exposed
as 'nonsensical blunderers;' persons who had 'neither
skill nor industry,' neither ' knowledge nor ingenuity;' to
be ' like Leucon's asses, a degree below sorry critics ; ' to
' write directly against grammar and common sense ;' and
are set out to the world under this low and rude simili-
tude, ' here are your workman to mend an author, as
bungling tinkers do old kettles.' What a difference is
there between the two letter writers. Mr Bentley is calm
and forgiving, but Dr Bentley is furious and unrelenting ;
Dr Mill's friend scorns to insult over the prostrate, but
Mr Wotton's friend pursues the blow. And do you not
yet begin to suspect the credit of the dissertations? ' "
Richard Bent ley. 53
The motto of Boyle's book was bold and confident : —
" Remember Milo's end ;
Wedged in the timber which he strove to rend."
And for a time it did indeed appear as if Bentley had quietly
succumbed to the attack. But his intimate friends knew
better. " Indeed," he said, " I am in no pain about the
matter ; for it is a maxim with me that no man was ever
written out of reputation but by himself."' The popular
opinion, however, was that he had been utterly discom-
fited. Garth, in his " Dispensary," has the following
couplet, which expressed the almost universal opinion of
the time, though now never quoted but to be ridiculed : —
" So diamonds take a lustre from their foil ;
And to a Bentley 'tis we owe a Boyle."
Two years after the publication of Boyle's book ap-
peared Bentley's reply, and then, says Macaulay (Essay
on Sir William Temple) : " The illusion was soon dis-
pelled. Bentley's answer for ever settled the question,
and established his claim to the first place among classical
scholars. Nor do those do him justice who represent
the controversy as a battle between wit and learning.
For, though there is a lamentable deficiency of learning
on the side of Boyle, there is no want of wit on the side
of Bentley. Other qualities, too, as valuable as either
wit or learning, appear conspicuously in Bentley's book —
a rare sagacity, an unrivalled power of combination, a
perfect mastery of all the weapons of logic. He was
greatly indebted to the furious outcry which the misre-
presentations, sarcasms, and intrigues of his opponents
had raised against him — an outcry in which fashionable
and political circles joined, and which was echoed by
thousands who did not know whether Phalaris ruled in
54 Great Scholars.
Sicily or in Siam. His spirit, daring even to rashness,
self-confident even to negligence, and proud even to in-
solent ferocity, was awed for the first and for the last
time, awed not into meanness or cowardness, but into
wariness and sobriety. For once he ran no risks ; he
left no crevice unguarded ; he wantoned in no paradoxes;
above all, he returned no railing for the railing of his
enemies. In almost everything he has written we can
discover proofs of genius and learning. But it is only
here that his genius and learning appear to have been
constantly under the guidance of good sense and good
temper. Here we find none of that besotted reliance on
his own power and on his own luck which he showed
when he undertook to edit Milton, none of that perverted
ingenuity which deforms so many of his notes on
Horace, none of that disdainful carelessness by which
he laid himself open to the keen and dexterous thrust of
Middleton, none of that extravagant vaunting and savage
scurrility by which he afterwards dishonoured his studies
and his profession, and degraded himself almost to the
level of De Pauw."
We have now arrived at that event in Bentley's life
which was at once his glory and his shame — his appoint-
ment as Master of Trinity College in 1700. It was his
glory inasmuch as, by the vastness of his learning, the
greatness of his reputation, the strength and vigour of
his character, the wideness of his acquaintance with
scholars of all countries, and the respect in which he was
held by them, none seemed more qualified than he to
hold the dignified and responsible position of head of a
great and opulent college. It was his shame inasmuch
as, by the tyranny of his conduct, the coarseness of his
language, and the unscrupulousness of his measures, he
embittered against him a large and powerful section of
Richard Bent ley. 5 5
the Fellows, and for about thirty-eight years the peace
and harmony of the College were disturbed by a series
of quarrels and lawsuits. He seems to have entered
Trinity in the spirit of an invader. Tradition says that,
being congratulated upon a promotion so little to have
been expected by a member of St John's College, he re-
plied, in no very reverent application of the words of the
Psalmist, " By the help of my God, I have leaped over
the wall."
Bishop Stillingfleet is reported to have once said, " We
must send Bentley to rule over the turbulent Fellows
of Trinity College ; if anybody can do it, he is the per-
son ; for I am sure that he has ruled my family ever
since he entered it." Bentley had not long occupied his
new dignity when he showed in many ways that he was
not only determined to rule, but to rule alone, and in no
way to bear any " brother near his throne." The reins of
discipline had been held very slackly by his predecessor
Dr Montague ; hence the strictness of Bentley, and his
autocratic conduct, were felt all the more keenly by the
Fellows. Bentley was a man of a type of character per-
haps not very uncommon. To anyone who resisted his
imperious will, he was vindictive, unjust, and tyrannical ;
while, like Cardinal Wolsey, to those who sought his
favour, and looked up to him with the deference which
he considered his due, he was always " sweet as summer."
To enter into all the details of Bentley's squabbles and
lawsuits with Trinity College would be neither profitable
nor interesting, and we shall touch upon them very
slightly. Yet so large a part of Bentley's life do they
occupy, that more than half of Bishop Monk's biography
of him is taken up with them. Those who are fond of
legal quibbles and hair splittings, and who like to follow
the course of a lawsuit through all its many tedious and
56 Great Scholars.
apparently interminable involutions, will find plenty there
to gratify their fancy.
In 1701 Bentley married Joanna Bernard, a lady who
had been a visitor in Bishop Stillingfleet's family, and
whose family connections were numerous and distin-
guished. The marriage was a singularly happy one, the
lady being marked by a sweet and amiable disposition,
as well as by a cultivated mind. She is mentioned with
applause and sympathy even in publications written for
the purpose of injuring the character and fortunes of her
husband. The quiet happiness of Bentley's domestic
life is in striking contrast to the restless turbulence of
his public career, and shows that at heart, with all his
outward roughness, he was a good-natured man.
Many things in Bentley's early management of Trinity
College are highly commendable. He built an obser-
vatory, a chemical laboratory, and so improved the Col-
lege chapel as to make it one of the finest in existence.
He also devoted much attention to the University press,
and from it were issued during his Mastership at least
two magnificent works, a fine edition of " Suidas," in
three volumes, edited by his friend Kuster, whom he
aided by his advice and assistance, and a new and im-
proved edition of Newton's "Principia." But all these
things, and many others of the same kind could only be
executed by heavy drains on the pockets of the Fellows,
and the complaints against Bentley grew loud and deep.
While engaged in all these occupations of a business
kind, scholarship was not neglected. Nothing can be a
better evidence of Bentley's genuine enthusiasm as a
scholar than the fact, that however deeply immersed in
outward affairs, however much perplexed and harassed by
business anxieties, his devotion to study continued un-
abated. His friend Kuster being engaged upon an edi-
Richard Bent ley. 5 7
tion of " Aristophanes," Bentley addressed to him three
" Critical Epistles " upon that author, the substance of
which was incorporated into his notes, where they shine
as stars in the firmament. He also carried on an active
correspondence with Hemsterhuis, Spanheim, Grsevius,
and other continental scholars, most of whom looked up
to Bentley with admiring respect, as their acknowledged
master in the world of classical criticism. John Davies,
a great admirer of Bentley, being passing an edition of
Cicero's " Tusculan Questions " through the press,
Bentley added thereto, in 1709, a body of emendations,
where he lashes without mercy, but with strict justice, the
ignorance and presumption of James Gronovius, a well
known scholar of the day, and perhaps the most volumin-
ous of classical editors. Gronovius, who had all his life
been an unscrupulous vilifier of other scholars, now reaped
what he had sown, by being held up to ridicule in Bent-
ley's most sarcastic manner.
Bentley's next work was of a somewhat similar kind.
The celebrated Le Clerc being desirous to figure as a
man of universal erudition, published an edition of the
fragments of the comic poets, Menander and Philemon.
Though this was a work requiring peculiar judgment and
tact, and an accurate acquaintance with the comic metres,
Le Clerc was deficient in all these respects, yet he had
the incredible effrontery to say that he had always felt
great delight in these remnants of Greek comedy, and
had collected and transcribed them for his own amuse-
ment, both which statements were unquestionably lies.
For some reason or other, Bentley determined to expose
this book, and accordingly wrote extemporal emendations
on three hundred and twenty-three passages in the
" Fragments," with a running commentary of unsparing
severity directed against Le Clerc. By some circuitous
58 Great Scholars.
channel he conveyed this work into the hands of Peter
Burman, who bitterly hated Le Gere, and by whom it
was published, with an insulting preface, as written by
" Phileleutherus Lipsiensis." On publication, the real
Phileleutherus was immediately detected, as it was
known only one living scholar could have treated such a
subject with so much learning. Le Clerc never regained
his former position after this exposure. The book in
which he was attacked sold so well, that in three weeks
the whole impression was exhausted ; and henceforth Le
Clerc was looked on as an ignorant pretender in Greek
literature.
All these works of Bentley, however, though very valu-
able in their way, were mere trifles compared to the great
work on which, for ten years, he had been engaged, and
which, in 17 n, first saw the light. We mean his edition
of " Horace," " the most instructive, perhaps," according
to De Quincey, "of all contributions whatsoever to Latin
literature." It was ushered into the world with a most
adulatory dedication to Lord Oxford, whom, for reasons
connected with his college lawsuits, it was then Bentley's
interest to conciliate. It was observed by Bentley's an-
tagonists that, " whenever he had finished a book, he pre-
sented it to some great men at Court, with a panegyrical
oration so conceived that it would fit any man in a great
post, and the highest bidder had it; " and various instances
seem to show that this accusation was not without a
measure of truth. The preface is written in a very dif-
ferent tone from the dedication : arrogant, contemptuous,
and boastful ; he writes like a man who is so sure of his
immense superiority over other scholars, that their
opinions are scarcely worth mentioning in comparison
with his. As Dr Monk says, the language of the pre-
face is so vainglorious as almost to challenge that severity
RicJiard Bentley. 59
of examination which his edition of " Horace " has expe-
rienced beyond all parallel in literary history. He de-
scribes at some length the characteristics of the ideal
critic, pretty plainly indicating that he regarded himself
as that model individual. " In the book itself," writes
a competent judge, " the knowledge derived from the
most profound study of the author • the intimate acquaint-
ance with the idiom of his language ; the occasional care-
lessness and inaccuracy ; the rage for unnecessary emen-
dation, as if for the sake of showing his ingenuity and
skill ; the unparalleled ingenuity and skill thus displayed ;
the determination to give a new explanation to that which
is clear and simple, equalled only by Warburton's ' Anno-
tations to Shakespeare ;' and the alternate quick percep-
tion of the cleverness and quiet humour, with the cold
and pedantic insensibility to the bolder flights of his poet
— these characteristics of Bentley's edition are known in
some degree to every reader of ' Horace,' that is, to every
one of liberal education, from the schoolboy to the most
mature man of letters." Perhaps never did any edition of a
classical author excite so much popular interest. It was at
tacked in sixpenny pamphlets, mjeu d^esprits of men about
town, and received a more serious assault from a school-
master of the name of Ker, who, having an old grudge
against Bentley, took this opportunity of putting forth in
the most glaring light some faults in the great scholar's
Latinity. In the midst of these attacks, however, Bentley
continued to receive letters from distinguished scholars,
British and foreign, complimenting him upon his noble
edition of " Horace." His old antagonist, Atterbury,
wrote him to say how much pleasure and instruction
he had received from that excellent performance, at
the same time owning the uneasiness he felt when he
found how many things there were in " Horace " which,
60 Great Scholars.
after thirty years' acquaintance with him, he had not fully
understood.
Five years after the publication of Bentley's Horace, it
was bitterly attacked in a publication entitled Aristarchus
Ante-Bentleianus, written by Richard Johnson, the master
of Nottingham school. This Johnson is supposed to
have been a fellow-student with Bentley at St John's
College, and his attack seems to have had its origin in per-
sonal malice or hatred. Though his book is disfigured
by its petulance and want of temper, it is not without some
happy passages. In particular, the following burlesque
criticism upon some lines of Tom Bostock, an old Eng-
lish ballad, in ridicule of the style of Bentley's notes, has
considerable cleverness, and is really not a bad English
imitation of some of the more rash and arrogant of the
critic's Latin comments : —
" And now my hand's in, after the example of great
authors and the Doctor in particular, I shall not think
much of my labour, for the reader's benefit, the honour
of the English nation in general, and the family of the
Bostocks in particular, to put down one stanza of a cer-
tain English Marine Ode, for so in good truth it is, and
so it is entitled in all the parchments, and the first edi-
tions ; how in the latter it came to be called a Ballad, I,
for my part, can't tell ; let them look to it that were the
cause of it. But 'tis high time to put down the place.
Why so it runs then —
' Then old Tom Bostock he fell to the work ;
He prayed like a Christian, but fought like a Turk,
And cut 'em all off in a jerk,
Which nobody can deny,' &c.
" Now you must understand, this Tom Bostock was
chaplain, in Latin, capellanus, in a sea fight, a long time
Richard Bentley. 6 1
ago, and after the enemy had boarded the ship, cut 'em
all off to a man. O brave Tom ! Thus much for the
interpretation. Now to the reading.
" Old. I have a shrewd suspicion that all is not sound
at bottom here, how sound a complexion soever the
words may seem to have. For why old, pray ye ? What !
he hewed down so many lusty fellows at fourscore, I'll
warrant ye ? A likely story ! I know there is an old boy
as well as any of ye ; but what then ? And I could
down with old Torn in another place, but not here.
" For, once again, I say, why old Tom ? What ! when
he was commending him for so bold an action, would he
rather say old Tom than bold Tom ? Was it not a bold
action ? Is not the word bold necessary in this place ?
And do you find it anywhere else ? Then, therefore,
ne'er be afraid of being too bold ; no, rather boldly read
bold Tom, I'll hear thee out, in Latin me vide. But
you'll say, neither edition nor manuscript hath this read-
ing. I thought as much.
" What of all that ? I suppose we have never a copy
under the author's own hand : as for the librarians and
editors, what can you expect from such cattle as they,
but such stuff as this ? One grain of sense (and, God be
thanked, I don't want that) weighs more with me than a
ton of their papers.
" Tom. Some would fain make us believe that we are
to read Ben here : much good may it do 'em with their
Ben. I for my part shall never believe that the poet
would ever put Ben and Bostock, two words beginning
with a B, so near together ; such grating stuff wounds
the ears ; such stuff could never come from so terse a
poet as you may guess by the work : for as for his name,
though no pains have been wanting, nor charge neither,
in getting manuscripts from all parts of the world, I'll
62 Great Scholars.
say that, for myself, I cannot recover it. Besides, who
ever heard of a Ben of the Bostocks ? Tom, George,
and Harry I'll allow ye ; but only Tom was the parson,
though ; and that this is spoken of the parson or chaplain
of the ship is plain."
In 1 7 13 Bentley replied under his old signature of
Phileleutherus Lipsiensis to Anthony Collins's " Dis-
course of Free Thinking." Collins's book is quite a worth-
less production, and for Bentley to criticise it so severely
as he did, was perhaps breaking a butterfly upon the
wheel. Bentley's work is well worth looking at by the
young classical student, as showing with what minute
accuracy a first-rate scholar renders passages from the
classic authors, giving full force to every inflection, every
mood, almost to every letter. As Collins's work had
attained great though ill-merited popularity, Bentley's
exposure of it was received with universal applause by
the orthodox.
But it is time something more should be said about
Bentley's relations with Trinity College. Towards the
end of 1709 an open rupture took place between the
Master and the Senior Fellows, when the former is re-
ported to have said, " From henceforth, farewell peace
to Trinity College," words amply verified by the expe-
rience of subsequent years. The Seniors decided to
appeal against the Master to the Visitor. Now the
question arose — Who was Visitor ? Through some am-
biguity in the statutes a doubt existed as to whether the
Bishop of Ely or the Crown was entitled to exercise this
power. At length, in 17 14, Bentley's trial came on
before Bishop Moore, of Ely. He was pretty confident
of victory, but his hopes were in danger of bitter disap-
pointment. As to one charge — that of wasting the col-
lege goods — he made out a strong case in his favour ;
Richard Bentley. 63
but it was pretty evident that in some of his other acts
he had gone beyond statute or precedent. " The affair
took a serious, a menacing, a gloomy cast. Degradation
from his splendid situation, humiliation before his de-
spised antagonists in the eyes of the world, seemed im-
pending over the head of the most arrogant man in
England. The mind of the judge had so manifestly, in
the course of the proceedings, betrayed a change which
threatened discomfiture to Bentley, that during one of
the hearings, when he expressed his unfavourable opinion
on a certain point, ' the unexpected shock was too much
even for the firm mind and strong nerves of Dr Bentley,
and he fainted away in court.' The trial lasted six
weeks ; the sentence was prepared, when, behold !
Bishop Moore, who had caught cold during the session,
was taken ill, and died : the proceedings fell to the
ground."
Thus was the first act of the drama ended. This is
only one of the many instances of the extraordinary good
luck that attended Bentley throughout his whole career.
Obstacles always seemed to vanish at the very moment
when it was most important for him that they should do
so. Middleton, in one of the many tracts written against
him, says "that his conduct is not in any way to be
accounted for, except we could believe of him, what a
modern historian relates of another tyrant and usurper,
that he has found means of contracting with a certain
invisible power for a lease of his government, to be
insured to him against all hazards and events, till the
charm be out, and his term expired." Bishop Fleetwood,
the new Bishop of Ely, declined to act as Visitor, unless
he could visit the Fellows as well as the Master. As
several of the former were well aware that their character
and conduct was not such as could stand a searching
64 Great Scholars.
examination, for a short time the controversy ceased, only,
however, to blaze forth with greater violence than ever.
A word must be said about Bentley's opponents. One
of the principal of these — perhaps the principal, so far as
writing pamphlets against Bentley is concerned — was Dr
Conyers Middleton, the biographer of Cicero, whom the
dauntless Doctor saddled with the nickname of "Fiddling
Conyers." Equally inveterate in his hostility to the
Master was Dr Colbatch, the Professor of Casuistry,
whom De Quincey calls " a malicious old toad," but who,
in reality, appears to have been almost the only one of
Bentley's adversaries who acted from entirely conscien-
tious motives. In the earlier part of the contest Edward
Miller, " a pestilent laywer," figures as the most import-
ant character. He gave Bentley's opponents the benefit
of his legal acumen and learning, both of which were
very considerable. However, at a comparatively early
period, he was bought off, retiring from the contest with
the reputation of a traitor, and ^528 in his pocket.
The language Bentley used concerning his opponents,
whether in public or in private, was certainly not such as
to conciliate them. One of the articles against him
runs thus: — "Why did you use scurrilous words and
language to several of the Fellows, particularly by calling
Mr Eden an ass, and Mr Rashleigh the college dog ; by
telling Mr Cock ' he would die in his shoes,' and calling
others fools and sots, and other scurrilous names ? ''
The Vice-Chancellor, Gooch, he termed "the empty
Gotch of Caius." At some meeting, where, after a ques-
tion had been long discussed, Dr Ashton observed that
" it was not yet quite clear to him," the Master of Trinity
briskly demanded, " Are we then to wait here till your
mud has subsided ? " Sherlock he nicknamed Cardinal
Alberoni, an appellation which appeared so appropriate
Richard Bent ley. 65
that it long adhered to him. In allusion to his oppo-
nent Miller, he publicly remarked that "lawyers were the
most ignominious people in the nation." It is related
by Middleton that a certain head of a College, afterwards
a Bishop, received no more courteous title than " Beel-
zebub."
The intense animosity with which his enemies regarded
Bentley was only equalled by the admiring affection
bestowed on him by his friends. By Dr Davies, the
commentator on Cicero, he was looked upon with a vene-
ration almost approaching to idolatry. Of the Fellows
of Trinity admitted to his intimacy, his favourites were,
Wotton, Barnwell, Whitfield, Ashenthurst, and R. Walker,
immortalized in the well-known lines of Pope, where
Bentley is made to exclaim : —
" ' Walker, our hat ! ' — no more he deigned to say ;
But, stern as Ajax' spectre, strode away."
This Walker was of all Bentley's friends perhaps the one
most exclusively devoted to his interests. It is said of
him by Dr Monk that he would have cheerfully risked
his life in the protection of his Master. The devotion of
some of Bentley's friends to him resembles nothing so
much as the traditional devotion of the Highland clans
to their chieftains. Through evil report and through
good report they stuck by him. If he required any
piece of work to be done, they were ready to do it. No
matter though its performance was difficult, no matter
though some scruples of conscience required to be over-
come before they could engage in it, no matter though it
exposed them to the odium and insult of most of the
members of the University — so long as they won the
approbation of the great man whose humble servants they
were proud to be, they were content. The wonderful
E
66 Great Scholars.
success with which Bentley fought against his numerous
and influential foes, is in great measure to be attributed to
their exertions. But Bentley was not destitute of friends
of another and a higher class. In London, which he
frequently visited, he enjoyed the society of his old friend
Sir Isaac Newton, of Dr Samuel Clarke, and of Dr Mead,
the celebrated physician. It says much for Bentley, that
not only his college acquaintances, but all these distin-
guished men, should, through all his difficulties, many of
them of his own creating, have continued as much
devoted to him as ever.
Of all the bold and unscrupulous things Bentley did,
one of the boldest and most unscrupulous was his getting
himself elected Regius Professor of Divinity. In the
first place, he was not eligible for the post at all, the
statute ordering that the Master of Trinity should not
hold the professorship. However, this objection was
overruled, one precedent being found where the statute
had been set aside. But it so happened that of the
seven electors six were decidedly hostile to his appoint-
ment, so that he could command no vote but his own.
The electors were himself, the Vice-Chancellor, three
Heads of Colleges, and the two senior Fellows of Trinity.
The two latter were obliged to be absent, and Bentley
managed to cajole the two next into supporting him.
He contrived to procure the absence of the Vice-
Chancellor from the University, and he himself became
his deputy. His own place was then filled by his faithful
friend Dr Davies. The meeting being summoned with-
out delay, the four electors appeared, those opposed
to Bentley remained aloof, knowing that their opposition
was useless, and so he was unanimously appointed Pro-
fessor, with a salary of about ,£600 a year.
To return once more to details of Bentley's literary life.
Richard Bentley. 67
In 17 15 he preached a sermon against Popery, in which
the abuses of the Church of Rome were laid bare by no
sparing hand. A good many readers may have been
impressed by part of this sermon without knowing who
was the author of it. A passage, describing the suffer-
ings of a victim in the Inquisition, has been stolen with
out scruple by that arch-plagiarist, Sterne, and transferred
to the pages of " Tristram Shandy," where it is said so to
have overcome the feelings of Corporal Trim, who reads it,
that he declares " he would not read another line of it
for all the world." In 17 16 Bentley first announced his
great plan of publishing a critical edition of the Greek
Testament. For four years he meditated over this
design, sparing neither labour nor expense to procure
collations of manuscripts. In 1720 he issued a pro-
spectus and specimen of his work, stating the terms of
subscription, &c. Conyers Middleton, who was not a
particularly upright man, seized this opportunity of
attacking Bentley's reputation. The prospectus and
specimen had been drawn up in great haste, so that there
were a good many errors in them, of which Middleton
did not fail to make the most in his " Remarks on the
Proposals," in which every paragraph and every sentence
are closely analysed, with a determination to find Bentley
wrong in all his remarks. Bentley, being under the impres-
sion that the " Remarks," which were published anony-
mously, were, in great measure at least, the production
of Colbatch, issued a pamphlet in which he was attacked
in the most virulent manner Bentley was master of.
"Cabbage-head," "insect," "worm," "maggot," "vermin,"
" gnawing rat," " snarling dog," " ignorant thief," " moun-
tebank," are a few of the choice terms to which he is
treated. In reply to this Middleton wrote another
pamphlet acknowledging himself as author, four times as
68 Gi'eat Scholars.
long as his former one, and written with the skill and
caution of a practised controversialist. It has been often
asserted that these attacks of Middleton were the cause
of Bentley's edition of the New Testament being sus-
pended, but this appears to be quite a mistake. Shortly
after the appearance of Middleton's tract, he told Bishop
Atterbury that " he scorned to read the rascal's book, but
if his lordship would send him any part which he thought
the strongest, he would undertake to answer it before
night ; " and there is full proof that for more than eight
years after the attack he continued to procure collations
as diligently as ever. Why Bentley did not publish this
edition, which would doubtless have greatly increased his
reputation, is still doubtful.
In the meantime the great quarrel between Bentley and
the College steadily continued its course. With his
usual good fortune, Bentley contrived to convict both
his principal antagonists in turn of libel, or of offensive
language to persons in authority. Middleton, in a
pamphlet entitled "The true state of Trinity College,"
had declared that the Fellows of Trinity had not been
able to find any proper court in England which would
receive the complaints. By the Court of King's Bench
this was considered as containing an undoubted libel
upon the whole administration of justice in the kingdom.
He was compelled to ask pardon, and heavily amerced in
costs. Then the unfortunate Colbatch published a book
called Jus Academician, in support of the University
jurisdiction, in which Bentley contrived to find some
sentences liable to be construed into contempt of the
Court of King's Bench. For this, in spite of all his
efforts to obtain the intercession of the Crown, Colbatch
was committed and condemned to a fine. The most
disastrous point was the motto of the book — Jura negat
Richard Bent ley. 69
sibi nata, nihil 11011 arrogat. The venerable judge, who
had passed a long life in the study of law Latin, had for-
gotten whatever acquaintance he might have contracted
with classical writers sixty years before, for he accused
Colbatch of "applying to the court the most virulent
verse in all Horace, Jura negat sibi nata, nihil 11011
abrogat." The culprit immediately set him right as to
Horace's word ; and told him besides that the motto was
intended to apply, not to the judges, but to Bentley.
Sir Littleton, however, would not be driven from his
stronghold ; he thrice returned to this unhappy quotation,
which accused their Lordships of "abrogating" the laws,
and each time Colbatch was imprudent enough to interrupt
and correct him. At last the court remarked to his
counsel, Kettleby, that his client did not appear to be
sensible of his being in contempt ; and, to convince him
of that fact, sentenced him to pay £,%o, to be imprisoned
till it was paid, and to give security for his good behaviour
for a year. No sooner was Colbatch thus brought low,
than in the dedication to his Tract on the Arrangement
of the Public Library, Middleton let fall some incautious
expressions which appeared to impugn the authority of
the Court of King's Bench. He, in turn, was fined ,£50,
and ordered to find security for his good behaviour for a
year. Middleton took his revenge by continuing his
implacable hostility to Bentley. His last pamphlet
against him concludes with the following sarcasm : —
" Being conscious of no offence that my name has ever
given, nor of any infamy to make it odious to any man
except to himself, I am not at all ashamed of producing
it ; and since it is, as he says, to die with me and to be
buried shortly in oblivion, he must excuse me the reason-
able ambition of making the most of it while I live ; and
that I may have some chance for being known likewise
70 Great Scholars.
to posterity, I am resolved to fasten myself upon him,
and stick as close to him as I can, in hopes of being
dragged at least by his great name out of my present
obscurity, and of finding some place, though an humble
one, in the public annals of history ; and being willing,
before we part, to give him all the encouragement I can
towards answering me, I here promise that, let him be as
severe and scurrilous as he pleases upon my person,
morals, or learning, I will not make myself so mean as to
take the law of him, or prosecute printer, publisher, or
author ; I shall be content to vindicate my character with
the proper weapons of an author, and do myself justice
as well as I can ; being ambitious of no greater reputa-
tion in the world than that I shall always find myself very
well able to defend."
In 1722 Bentley committed to paper a copy of English
verses. His was not a poetical mind, and for that very
reason the verses possess considerable interest. Singularly
enough, they have probably been more read than any of
Ben tley's other writings, owing to the factthatthey are copied
in " Boswell's Life of Johnson." Johnson pronounced
them " the forcible verses of a man of strong mind, but
not accustomed to write verses." They run as follows : —
" Who strives to mount Parnassus' hill,
And thence poetic laurels bring,
Must first acquire due force and skill,
Must fly with swan's or eagle's wing.
Who Nature's treasures would explore,
Her mysteries and arcana know,
Must high, as lofty Newton, soar ;
Must stoop, as delving Woodward, low.
Who studies ancient laws and rites,
Tongues, arts, and arms, all history,
Must drudge, like Selden, day and night,
And in the endless labour die.
Richard Bentley. 7 1
Who travels in religious jarrs,
Truth mixed with error, shade with rays,
Like Whiston wanting pyx and stars
In ocean wide, or sinks, or strays.
But grant our hero's hope, long toil
And comprehensive genius crown,
All sciences, all arts, his spoil,
Yet what reward, or what renown ?
Envy, innate in vulgar souls,
Envy steps in and stops his rise,
Envy with poisoned tarnish fouls
His lustre, and his worth decries.
He lives inglorious or in want,
To college and old books confined ;
Instead of learned, he's called pedant,
Dunces advanced, he's left behind ;
Yet left content, a genuine stoic he
Great without patron, rich without South-sea."
In these lines Bentley doubtless designed to portray
his own character. Certainly envy with poisoned tarnish
often endeavoured to foul his lustre, but its efforts were
never attended with much success. Neither did he by
any means live inglorious or in want. The verses must
have been written when he was in a fit of dejection, a
state of mind most rare in him ; for all accounts agree in
stating, that even when fortune seemed most against him,
the unconquerable old man kept up his accustomed gaiety
of spirits. What in great measure sustained him was un-
questionably the contempt he had for his adversaries. He
not only hated them, he thoroughly despised them.
In 1725 Bentley published an edition of Terence, in
which, according to no less an authority than Wolf, there
are fewer things which ought to be rejected than in his
72 Great Scholar's.
editions of other authors. The circumstances attending
the publication of this work are rather curious. Bentley's
friend, Dr Hare, the Dean of Worcester, had published
an edition of Terence, in which all that was most valuable
was borrowed without acknowledgment from the oral
instructions of Bentley, who undoubtedly possessed more
information about the Latin comic metres than any man
living. Bentley was very naturally indignant that Hare
should have turned to his own purposes the information
extracted from his unsuspicious communications, and
accordingly, as a means of revenge, published a rival
edition in which Hare was severely criticised in caustic
and contemptuous language. Hare is not named through-
out the volume, being alluded to by various circumlocu-
tions — " that learned man " being the term used when
the sneer is meant to be particularly provoking. The
subject of the versification of the Latin comic poets was
one which interested Bentley to the last. Of his devo-
tion to it, the following odd anecdote is told : " Dr
Bentley, when he came to town, was accustomed, in his
visits to Lord Carteret, sometimes to spend the evenings
with his Lordship. One day old Lady Granville re-
proached her son with keeping the country clergyman,
who was with him the night before, till he was intoxicated.
Lord Carteret denied the charge ; upon which the lady
replied, that the clergyman could not have sung in so
ridiculous a manner, unless he had been in liquor. The
truth of the case was, that the singing thus mistaken by
her ladyship was Dr Bentley's endeavour to instruct and
entertain his noble friend, by reciting Terence according
to the true cantilena of the ancients."
With that rashness which was only too habitual to him,
Bentley added to his Terence an edition of Phrosdus,
with a view to anticipate Hare, who had announced his
Richard Bentley. 73
intention of publishing an edition of that author. This
was a very hasty performance, and quite unworthy of
Bentley's genius. " In none of his publications," says
Bishop Monk, " did he display so much presumption, as
in putting forth this crude collection of new readings,
supported by notes the jejuneness of which formed a re-
markable contrast to his copious annotations upon
Horace, and which were unworthy even to appear in
the same volume with his edition of the Comedian ;
and never did he more expose himself to the attacks of
his enemies, than when, at the suggestion of pique and
resentment, he launched this puny and meagre perform-
ance into the troubled waters of criticism." This unfor-
tunate production gave Hare an excellent opportunity
for retaliating upon Bentley, which he did not fail to" take
advantage of. In an Epistola Critica he drew up a
review of Bentley's notes, written with much personal
acrimony, but with considerable justice and ability.
With reference to this attack Bentley is reported to have
observed of Hare, " that he had as much pride as him-
self, and a great deal more ill-nature." As for Hare^the
bitterness of the controversy did not prevent him from
retaining all his admiration of the learning and genius
of Bentley, whom he is said to have continued almost to
idolize. The unedifying spectacle of a dignitary of the
church and a professor of theology carrying on a dispute
on such a subject with so much asperity, did not pass
without comment. Sir Isaac Newton is related to have
complained that two such divines should " be fighting
with one another about a playbook."
We have now to describe the most extraordinary and
disastrous of Bentley's literary undertakings — his edition
of Milton's "Paradise Lost" — which appeared in 1731.
If Bentley's fame had not been built upon the most solid
74 Great Scholars.
foundations, this publication would have infallibly de-
stroyed it, for no more rash and foolish production was
ever issued from the press. It was apparently under-
taken at the instigation of Queen Caroline, who wished
to see the powers of the great critic exerted upon a sub-
ject she was capable of appreciating. In this work
Bentley corrects the text of Milton much as he had
corrected that of Horace, only, inasmuch as Horace was
an author whose peculiar excellences he was much better
qualified to appreciate than Milton's, he attained no suc-
cess in the undertaking, which was a sufficiently ridiculous
one at best. To excuse himself for interfering with the
text of the great poet, he devised an imaginary personage
in the character of an " Editor of Paradise Lost ; " to him,
and not to Milton, he pretends to attribute all those
faults and defects he points out. In the preface he thus
propounds this hypothesis : " Our celebrated author,
when he composed this poem, being obnoxious to the
Government, poor, friendless, and, what is worst of all,
blind with a gutta serena, could only dictate his verses to
be writ by another. Whence it necessarily follows, that
any errors in spelling, pointing, nay, even in whole
words of a like or near sound in pronunciation, are not
to be charged upon the poet, but on the amanuensis.
" But more calamities than are yet mentioned have
happened to our poem ; for the friend or acquaintance,
whoever he was, to whom Bentley committed his copy
and the overseeing of the press, did so vilely execute
that trust, that ' Paradise,' under his ignorance and auda-
ciousness, may be said to be twice lost. A poor book-
seller, then living near Aldersgate, purchased our author's
copy for ten pounds, and (if a second edition followed)
for five pounds more ; as appears by the original bond,
yet in being. This bookseller, and that acquaintance,
Richard Bent ley. 75
who seems to have been the sole corrector of the press,
brought forth their first edition, polluted with such mon-
strous faults as are beyond example in any printed book.
" But these typographical faults, occasioned by the
negligence of the acquaintance (if all may be imputed to
that, and not several wilfully made), were not the worst
blemishes brought upon our poem. For this supposed
friend (called in the notes the editor), knowing Milton's
bad circumstances ; who
' Was fallen on evil days and evil tongues,
With darkness and with dangers compassed round,
And solitude ; '
thought he had an opportunity to foist into the book
several of his own verses, without the blind poet's dis-
covery. The trick has been too frequently played ; but
especially in works published after an author's death.
And poor Milton in that condition, with threescore years'
weight upon his shoulders, might be reckoned more than
half dead."
Of course this monstrous fiction was not intended to
be believed — it was merely a device to take off the odium
of perpetually condemning and altering Milton's words.
A few specimens will give a better idea of the incredible
absurdity and audacity of this edition than any descrip-
tion. The passage describing Raphael — who,
" Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan
Winnows the buxom air ; till within soar
Of tow'ring eagles, to all the fowls he seems
A phcenix, gazed by all, as that sole bird
When, to enshrine his reliques in the Sun's
Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies " —
is thus dismissed as spurious. " When our editor once
begins with his similitudes, he knows not when to leave
j6 Great Scholars.
off; but still blunders on, through sense or nonsense.
Milton said, ' Raphael sailed between worlds and worlds,'
wisely steered through the vacuous ether that lay between
them. But the editor, in contradiction, tells us, he
sailed ' sometimes on the polar winds,' which winds could
not exist but within these worlds. And then, when he
came so near to the earth, as eagles used to soar, he took
the shape of a phcenix ; and three verses are bestowed
on the story of this phoenix. But why that shape, good
master editor? Why, says he, to deceive all the fowls,
who look and gaze at him as a true one. Was that a
whim fit for an archangel, sent from heaven to earth on
so important a commission ? Is not this rare trifling ?
and among so many birds of grand magnitude and fine
feather, could none content you but a phoenix, a fictitious
nothing, that has no being but in tale and fable ? "
The beautiful passage —
"Thus saying, from her husband's hand her hand
Soft she withdrew, and like a wood-nymph light
Oread or Dryad, or of Delia's train,
Betook her to the groves, but Delia's self
In gait surpassed, and goddess-like deport,
Though not as she with bow and quiver armed,
But with such gardening tools as art yet rude,
Guiltless of fire, had formed, or angels brought.
To Pales or Pomona thus adorned
Likeliest she seemed, Pomona when she fled
Vertumnus, or to Ceres in her prime,
Yet virgin of Proserpine from Jove " —
is subjected to the following scathing criticism : " Here
our editor thought he had a field before him to implant
what he pleased. He seldom intermeddles in speeches,
wherein Milton chiefly excels ; but when anything of de-
scription will make way for him, he'll never fail to in-
Richard Bent ley. 7 7
trude his rubbish. We have had frequent accounts of
Eve's beauty already ; particularly when leaving Raphael
and Adam she went to the groves ; these most noble
verses fully describe her charms :
" With goddess-like demeanour forth she went,
Not unattended ; for on her as queen
A pomp of winning graces waited still ;
And from about her shot darts of desire
Into all eyes, to wish her still in sight."
Yet now, when only she leaves Adam to go to the
groves, the editor has a prolix attempt to describe her
afresh, as if nothing had been said before ; and yet he
falls as much below the true Milton, in book viii., as a
novice sign-dauber falls below a Titian or a Raphael.
Let us see what fine work he makes. Instead of some-
thing real, he empties all his commonplace of mythology.
She walked so light (a great commendation) as any wood-
nymph, Oread or Dryad, or one of Diana's train ; nay,
she had a finer gait than Diana herself, though she had
no bow or quiver ; as if carrying a heavy quiver at her
back made Diana walk more gracefully. Aye, but he
alters his mind ; and now she's ' likeliest ' (he means
likest) to Pales or Pomona ; and yet not to Pomona
always, but when she fled Vertumnus : Eve had here no
such occasion to run away so fast. Aye, but she's like
Ceres too : all these, even in fable, are unlike one an-
other ; and yet Eve is like them all. But she was like
Ceres, when she was a maid, and in her prime,
' Yet virgin of Proserpine from Jove.'
I find the editor's goddesses, though immortal, have the
decays of old age, grow past their prime, and then grey
haired and wrinkled. But what monster of a phrase is
that, ' virgin of Proserpine,' virgin of her daughter ? Any-
78 Great Scholars.
one else that was minded to speak human language
would have said,
' Like Ceres in her prime,
Not mother yet of Proserpine by Jove.'
But it is time to leave this animal, and to try if we can
find any mangled limbs of our poet scattered among this
dozen of lines. These four, with the help of surgery,
have the features of Milton :
' Thus saying, from her husband's hand her hand
Soft she withdrew, and hastened to the groves
Armed with such gardening tools, as art yet rude,
Guiltless of fire, had formed, or angels brought.'
All the nymphs and goddesses, whether in their prime
or past it, will return to their right owner."
No wonder though this edition of Milton was a cause
of immense jubilation to Bentley's enemies. It was re-
ceived, in the words of the injured poet, with
" On all sides, from innumerable tongues
A dismal, universal hiss— the sound
Of public scorn."
Bentley's friends kept a judicious silence, for there was
really nothing to be said in behalf of his work. It was
not only very bad itself — it had a tendency to make his
other works appear bad. He amended the text of Milton
in about a thousand places, and most of his changes are
such as no man of real poetic feeling would have made,
and of which even the most commonplace reader can see
the absurdity. Into his edition of Horace, between
seven and eight hundred emendations are introduced.
Now, it is impossible to avoid the uncomfortable reflec-
tion, that when most of the emendations of Milton appear
so absurd to an Englishman, the emendations of Horace
Richard Bent ley. 79
would have appeared equally absurd to a Roman. Yet
the reflection is not a correct one. Horace is an author
whose genius was much better adapted to Bentley's com-
prehension than Milton's, and moreover, Bentley's ac-
quaintance with, and appreciation of, Roman literature
was incomparably superior to his knowledge of English
literature. Nevertheless, the edition of Milton must have
been a great shock to those who looked upon Bentley as
a verbal critic, whose judgments were infallible. For the
time his great classical achievements were lost sight of,
the ridiculousness of his Milton was alone remembered,
and Bentley's name was never mentioned in the periodi-
cals of the day without a sneer. Yet Bentley's Milton
is now almost wholly forgotten, while of the majority of
his classical works, the fame stands as high or higher than
it did at the time of their publication. There cannot be
a better illustration of the comfortable axiom, that dur-
ing his lifetime an author's fame will often be estimated
by his worst work, but that, if remembered at all by pos-
terity, he will be remembered by his best.
It would be difficult to name any writer who was sub-
jected to more abuse and sarcasm than Bentley. Not
only the penny-a-liners of the " Grub Street Journal," and
other miscellanies of that description, delighted to satirise
the great scholar as best they could, — he somehow man-
aged to gain the inveterate enmity of many of the leadin°-
writers of the day— of Swift, of Pope, of Bolingbroke, of
Arbuthnot. Perhaps all these enmities may be traced
to the Phalaris dispute. Sir William Temple being Swift's
patron, Swift, as in duty bound, made Bentley as ridicu-
lous as possible in the " Battle of the Books." For Pope's
vain desire to make Bentley contemptible, Dr Johnson
says he had never heard any adequate reason. Swift,
whose influence over Pope's mind was very considerable,
80 Great Scholars.
perhaps was the first to give Pope a prejudice against
Bentley, and this early prejudice was doubtless much in-
creased by a remark Bentley made shortly after the pub-
lication of Pope's Iliad, " that it was a very pretty poem,
but that he must not call it Homer." When asked in his
latter days what had been the cause of Pope's dislike, he
replied, " I talked against his ' Homer,' and the portent-
ous cub never forgives." In the opening lines of the
fourth book of the ' Dunciad,' Bentley is honoured with
the following notice : —
" As many quit the streams that murmuring fall
To lull the sons of Marg'ret and Clare Hall,
Where Bentley late tempestuous wont to sport
In troubled waters, but now sleeps in Port.
Before them marched that awful Aristarch ;
Plowed was his front with many a deep remark :
His hat, which never vailed to human pride,
Walker with rev'rence took, and laid aside.
Low bowed the rest : he, kingly, did but nod ;
So upright Quakers please both man and God.
' Mistress ! dismiss that rabble from your throne :
Avaunt — Is Aristarchus yet unknown ?
The mighty scholiast, whose unwearied pains
Made Horace dull, and humbled Milton's strains.
Turn what they will to verse, their toil is vain :
Critics like me shall make it prose again.
Roman and Greek grammarians ! know your
better,
Author of something yet more great than letter ;
While tow'ring o'er your alphabet, like Saul
Stands our digamma, and o'er tops them all.' "
There appears little doubt that the enmity to Bentley of
Bolingbroke and Arbuthnot was, in part at least, due to
Pope. Arbuthnot wrote a sequel to "Gullivers Travels,"
under the title of, " An Account of the State of Learning
Richard Bentley. 8 1
in the Empire of Lilliput, together with the History and
Character of Bullum, the Emperor's Library-keeper."
This is a clever tract, as all Arbuthnot's are, and the
satire against Bentley is as keen and unsparing as any to
which he was subjected. A brief quotation, the allusions
in which will be readily appreciated by those who have
perused the preceding pages, will show the style of the
satire : " Bullum is a tall, raw-boned man, I believe near
six inches and a half high ; from his infancy he applied
himself with great industry to the old Blefuscudian
language, in which he made such a progress, that he
almost forgot his native Lilliputian : and at this time he
can neither write nor speak two sentences without a
mixture of the old Blefuscudian. These qualifications,
joined to an undaunted forward spirit, and a few good
friends, prevailed with the Emperor's grandfather to
make him keeper of his library, and a Mulro in the
Gomflastru ; though most men thought him fitter to be
one of the Royal Guards. These places soon helped
him to riches, and upon the strength of them he soon
began to despise everybody, and to be despised by every-
body. This engaged him in many quarrels, which he
managed in a very odd manner ; whenever he thought
himself affronted he immediately flung a great book at
his adversary, and, if he could, felled him to the earth ;
but if his adversary stood his ground and flung another
book at him, which was sometimes done with great
violence, then he complained to the Grand Justiciary
that these affronts were designed to the Emperor, and
that he was singled out only as being the Emperor's
servant. By this trick he got that great officer to favour
him, which made his enemies cautious, and him insolent."
Another book in which Bentley is attacked is a " Poem
on Verbal Criticism, addressed to Mr Pope," by the
82 Great Scholars.
notorious David Mallet. Apparently Pope had lent the
assistance of his pen to this production, which contains
some good lines and many bad.
Of the pamphlets published against Bentley in his
capacity of Master of Trinity, no enumeration can be
attempted— their name is legion. To these he some-
times replied, and sometimes passed them over in con-
temptuous silence. The great quarrel, which had been
carried on for about thirty-eight years with but short and
treacherous intervals of peace, was now to be brought to
a close. After many struggles Bentley's assailants had
managed to get the cause brought before Bishop Greene,
who then held the See of Ely. On the 27th of April,
1734, a final judgment was pronounced on this long-
protracted cause. "The hall being full of anxious
auditors, Bishop Greene appeared without his assessors ;
the result being anticipated, Dr Andrews, as counsel for
the Master, immediately rose and begged that his Lord-
ship would defer giving sentence till his assessors could
be present, and deliver their opinions. This the Bishop
peremptorily refused ; but, being asked whether they
were consenting to his judgment, replied in the affirma-
tive. He then declared, in terms of great solemnity, that
Dr Bentley was proved guilty both of dilapidating the
goods of his college, and violating its statutes, and had
thereby incurred the penalty of deprivation appointed by
these statutes ; accordingly he pronounced him deprived
of the Mastership of Trinity College."
Now, at last, Bentley's opponents appeared to have
obtained a great victory. No course, apparently, was left
to the old man but to retire from Trinity College, and
pass the remainder of his days in undignified obscurity.
But no, his enemies were amazed to see him remaining
quietly in the Lodge of Trinity College, exercising his
Richard Bent ley. 83
official functions with the same undaunted spirit as before.
The reason of this was that, according to the statute, the
Master could only be degraded by the Vice-Master
acting under the proper warrant. The Vice-Master was
the Dr Walker already mentioned for his devotion to
Bentley, who really appears to have been one of the best
and truest friends man ever had. Of course he refused
to execute the sentence. Mandamus after mandamus
was applied for to compel him to do his duty. All in
vain : the Court of King's Bench quashed them all for
some technical flaw. At length, after about five years,
the death of Bishop Greene put an end to the proceed-
ings, and Bentley was left in secure enjoyment of his
dignity. " The success of this struggle," says Dr Monk,
" kept up with unexampled spirit and obstinacy for ten
years, must be attributed principally to the acuteness,
address, and skilful tactics of Dr Bentley himself, seconded
by the zeal of his professional friend, Mr Greaves.
Many persons would have sunk under the agitation of
such proceedings, every stage of which threatened his
ruin ; but he was cool and collected in his operations, he
never gave his enemies an advantage over him, nor ever
failed to seize the right occasion for a successful
manoeuvre. His aim was always to distress and baffle
his antagonists ; while it must be allowed that he seemed
strangely regardless of the opinion which might be
entertained of the rectitude of his principles."
In 1732 Bentley commenced an edition of Homer, in
which he proposed to reform the versification of the poet
by the introduction of the digamma, the discovery of
which was one of the triumphs of his acute genius. To
undertake such a work was a very bold enterprise for a
man whose years exceeded threescore and ten, and we
are not surprised to learn that his notes were brought to
84 Great Scholars.
an end at the sixth book by his being seized with an
attack of the palsy. His notes were transmitted to
Heyne, when engaged upon his edition of the Iliad.
Heyne has described in touching terms the rapture with
which he beheld the hand of the venerable scholar.
The Homer was Bentley's last literary work, for an
edition of Manilius, published in 1739, had been prepared
for the press forty-five years before. Manilius, a pecu-
liarly obscure and difficult author, seems always to have
possessed a singular fascination for Bentley, and his
edition contains many acute and ingenious emendations.
An edition of Lucan, containing notes by Bentley, was
published fourteen years after his death. This completes
the long list of his classical labours, some trifling produc-
tions alone excepted.
In 1740 Mrs Bentley died, an affliction which must
have pained Bentley deeply, for their union had been a
singularly happy one. By her he had three children, a
son called by his own name, and two daughters. Of the
son, who obtained a fellowship at Trinity College, his
contemporaries acknowledge the genius, but lament the
desultory nature of his pursuits. His eldest daughter,
Elizabeth, married Mr Humphrey Ridge, a gentleman of
good family in Hampshire. She was left a widow in less
than a year, and returned to her father's house to solace
by her attentions the afflictions of his declining years.
In this she was joined by her sister, Mrs Cumberland,
who passed much of her time with her family at Trinity
Lodge. "Surrounded," we are told, "by such friends,
the Doctor experienced the joint pressure of old age and
infirmity as lightly as is consistent with the lot of
humanity. He continued to amuse himself with reading,
and though nearly confined to his chair, was able to
enjoy the society of his friends, and several rising
Richard Bent ley . 8 5
scholars who sought the conversation of the veteran
Grecian ; with them he still discussed the readings of
classical authors, recited Homer, and expounded the
doctrine of the digamma."
Of Bentley in his old age, surrounded by the members
of his family circle, his grandson, Richard Cumberland,
has given some very interesting reminiscences in his enter-
taining "Memoirs." From these the following extracts are
given by Dr Monk, and will be read with interest : —
" Of Dr Richard Bentley, my maternal grandfather, I
shall next take leave to speak. Of him I have perfect
recollection. His person, his dignity, his language, and
his love fixed my early attention, and stamped both his
image and his words upon my memory. His literary
works are known to all, his private character is still mis-
understood by many ; to that I shall confine myself, and,
putting aside the enthusiasm of a descendant, I can assert,
with the veracity of a biographer, that he was neither
cynical, as some have represented him, nor overbearing .
and fastidious in the degree, as he has been described by
many.
"I had a sister somewhat older than myself. Had
there been any of that sternness in my grandfather which
is so falsely imputed to him, it may well be supposed
we should have been awed into silence in his presence,
to which we were admitted every day. Nothing can be
further from the truth ; he was the unwearied patron and
promoter of all our childish sports and sallies ; at all
times ready to detach himself from any topic of conver-
sation to take an interest and bear his part in our
amusements. The eager curiosity natural to our age, and
the questions it gave birth to, so teasing to many parents,
he, on the contrary, attended to and encouraged, as the
claims of infant reason, never to be evaded or abused ;
86 Great Scholars.
strongly recommending that to all such inquiries answer
should be given according to the strictest truth, and
information dealt to us in the clearest terms, as a sacred
duty never to be departed from. I have broken in upon
him many a time in his hours of study, when he would
put his book aside, ring his hand-bell for his servant, and
be led to his shelves to take down a book for my amuse-
ment. I do not say that his good nature always gained
its object, as the pictures which his books generally
supplied me with were anatomical drawings of dissected
bodies, very little calculated to communicate delight;
but he had nothing better to produce, and surely such an
effort on his part, however unsuccessful, was no feature
of a cynic ; a ' cynic should be made of sterner stuff.'
I have had from him, at times, while standing at his
elbow, a complete and entertaining narrative of his school-
boy days, with the characters of his different masters
very humorously displayed, and the punishments de-
scribed which they at times would wrongfully inflict on
him for seeming to be idle and regardless of his task,
' When the dunces,' he would say, ' could not discover
that I was pondering it in my mind, and fixing it more
firmly in my memory, than if I had been bawling it out
amongst the rest of my school-fellows.'
" Once, and only once, I recollect his giving me a
gentle rebuke for making a most outrageous noise in the
room over his library, and disturbing him in his studies ;
I had no apprehension of anger from him, and confi-
dently answered that I could not help it, as I had been
playing at battledore and shuttlecock with Master Gooch,
the Bishop of Ely's son. ' And I have been at this sport
with his father,' he replied, ' but thine has been the more
amusing game ; so there's no harm done.'
" His ordinary style of conversation was naturally
Richard Bent ley. 8 7
lofty, and his frequent use of thou and thee with his fami-
liars carried with it a kind of dictatorial tone that sav-
oured more of the closet than the court ; this is readily
admitted, and those first approaches might mislead a
stranger ; but the native candour and inherent tender-
ness of his heart could not be long veiled from observa-
tion, for his feelings and affections were at once too
impulsive to be long repressed, and he too careless of
concealment to attempt at qualifying them.
" How liable he was to deviate from the strict line of
justice, by his partiality to the side of mercy, appears
from the anecdote of the thief who robbed him of his
plate, and was seized and brought before him with the
very article upon him : the natural process in this man's
case pointed out the road to prison; my grandfather's
process was more summary, but not quite so legal.
While Commissary Greaves, who was then present, and
of counsel for the College ex officio, was expatiating on
the crime, and prescribing the measures obviously to be
taken with the offender, Dr Bentley interposed, saying,
' Why tell the man he is a thief ? He knows that well
enough, without thy information, Greaves. Harkye,
fellow, thou see'st the trade which thou hast taken up is
an unprofitable trade, therefore get thee gone ; lay aside
an occupation by which thou can'st gain nothing but a
halter, and follow that by which thou may'st earn an
honest livelihood.' Having said this he ordered him to be
set at liberty against the remonstrances of the bystanders,
and insisting upon it that the fellow was penitent for his
offence, bade him go his way and never steal again."
In his old age Bentley is recorded to have enjoyed
smoking tobacco with his constant companion Dr
Walker, a practice which he did not begin before his
seventieth year. He is also stated to have been an
88 Great Scholars.
admirer of port wine, while of claret, of which he thought
contemptuously, he observed that " it would be port if
it could." While sitting in his study, he generally wore a
hat with an enormous brim, to protect his eyes.
Not long before Bentley's death, he had the satisfac-
tion of knowing that his critical sagacity had achieved a
signal triumph. In his " Antiquitates Asiaticse," Chis-
hull had inserted an inscription taken from an ancient
marble. This had been separately copied long before
by two travellers, Wheeler and Spon. Chishull printed
the eight elegiac lines of which it consisted in a some-
what corrected form, whereupon Bentley wrote a criti-
cism in which he restored them, as he supposed, to what
they must have been intended for by the author, think-
ing the errors to have proceeded from the two travellers
by whom they were copied. It was a very bold thing to
dispute the separate testimony of two learned eyewit-
nesses ; however, upon the marble being brought to
England, every word of the inscription, when examined,
turned out to be literally and exactly as Bentley had
conjectured it ought to be read.
Bentley's last public appearance was in 1739, on the
occasion of the trial of a certain Tinkler Ducket, a fellow
of Caius College, who was accused of having imbibed atheis-
tical opinions. Tradition records that, at the trial, Bentley
inquired of those about him, " Which was the atheist ? "
On Ducket being pointed out, who was a thin and meagre
personage, he exclaimed, " What ! is that the atheist ? I
expected to have seen a man as big as Burrough the
beadle ! " Burrough was a personage whose portly
appearance did much credit to University cheer.
In his old age Bentley used to compare himself with
" an old trunk, which, if you let it alone, will last a long
time, but if you jumble it by moving, will soon fall to
Richard Bentley. 89
pieces." He is recorded to have said that he thought
himself likely to live to fourscore, an age long enough to
read everything that was worth reading. He appears to
have been rather exclusive in his literary tastes, for, once
seeing his son reading a novel, he asked him, " What is
the use of reading a book you cannot quote ? " His
prediction that he would live eighty years was fulfilled.
He expired on July 14, 1742, and in his person, says
Lord Macaulay, the greatest scholar that had appeared
in Europe since the revival of letters. His death dis-
proved one at least of the charges with which, when liv-
ing, he was perpetually assailed — that of avarice. He
died possessed of very moderate wealth. Dr Monk
doubts whether the savings of his whole life were more
than five thousand pounds. He received very little for
his works, one hundred guineas for his edition of Milton
being believed to be the largest sum he ever got.
Bentley was buried in the Chapel of Trinity College,
where a Latin oration was delivered in honour of his
memory. His library and papers he bequeathed to his
nephew Richard, by whom the more important were
given to Trinity College. The remainder of his manu-
scripts, and a number of his books, with marginal annota-
tions, were afterwards purchased for the British Museum.
Bentley's character has been sufficiently indicated in
the foregoing pages. He was emphatically what Dr
Johnson liked — a good hater. Endowed in a high
degree with the spirit of government, he was never
satisfied till he had thoroughly trampled those who
opposed him under his feet, and, so long as that end
was obtained, he was not over-scrupulous as to the
means. But it was only to those who resisted his impe-
rious will that he showed his unamiable qualities, for at
heart he was a good-natured man. By his intimate
90 Great Scholars.
friends he was looked up to with the most ardent affec-
tion, and in his family circle, when the better qualities of
his nature got full play, it would be difficult to name any
one who was more loved than he. After making all
deductions for the faults into which his pride and arro-
gance led him, there is no reason to doubt that he was
throughout life actuated by conscientious motives ; firmly
convinced that he was in the right, he was persuaded
that his opponents were influenced by the most unworthy
considerations, and ought to be put down at any hazard.
It is easy to see why his contemporaries often judged him
so harshly, but now, when his character can be estimated
with judicial impartiality, posterity will be inclined to
think that his good qualities were considerably in excess
of his bad, and that Bentley deserves our admiration, not
only as a scholar, but as a man.
As a classical scholar there is no need to dwell on his
merits. His unwearied industry, which never for a mo-
ment flagged even at the most troublous periods of his
life, was united with a certain intuitive sagacity and inge-
nuity such as perhaps have never been granted to any
man. His occasional carelessness, his rage for emenda-
tion where no emendation was required, his sometimes
too great confidence in his own resources, his boastful-
ness and arrogance, have all been pointed out often
enough. Yet, in spite of these defects, by the universal
acknowledgment of all competent to judge, Bentley is
the Prince of Scholars. In these days, when so much is
said about the superiority of German critics to British, it
is surely matter for pride and rejoicing that we have had
one scholar, at least, to whom no foreign critic can be
mentioned as a superior, or even as an equal. As long
as Greek and Latin are studied, so long will the name of
Richard Bentley be known and reverenced.
RICHARD PORSON.
RICHARD PORSON.
The life of Richard Porson is not an edifying one. In
great measure it is a record of faults to be shunned
rather than of virtues to be imitated ; a life full of sad
accounts of fine abilities wasted and opportunities thrown
away. It would be impossible even for the most adula-
tory biographer to exalt Porson into a hero ; he was of
the earth, earthy, and his whole life is overcast by the
dark cloud of one overmastering vice. Yet, with great
faults, Porson had also great excellences ; that he was
the first Greek scholar of his time, although his most
conspicuous, is by no means his only merit ; he was a
thoroughly honest and straightforward man, honest not
merely in scholarship, but in every relation of life.
Like so many who have risen to great eminence,
Porson was of very humble origin. He was born on
25th December 1759 at East Ruston, a little village in
Norfolk. His parents were in poor circumstances, his
father being a weaver and clerk of the parish, but,
although his means were scanty, he was a man consider-
ably above his position intellectually. He is described
as having had great sense and a powerful memory ; and,
being a man of sober and serious character, he brought
up his children in habits of frugality and order. Porson's
mother, too, was possessed of superior talents. She was
fond of poetry, especially of Shakspeare, and one day the
vicar of the parish, Mr Hewitt, finding her engaged read-
ing Congreve's " Mourning Bride," gave her free access
94 Great Scholars.
to any book in his library. With such parents Porson
was more favourably circumstanced as to the attainment
of knowledge than many born in more affluent positions.
Under his father's tuition he acquired the elements of
education, being taught to read and write, and instructed
in arithmetic, of which his father was exceedingly fond,
as far as the cube root. His mother often employed her
children in spinning, and it is related of the subject of
this memoir, that he could always produce from a given
quantity of wool more yarn, and that of a better quality,
than any of his brothers or sisters. All through his life,
whatever Porson did, he did thoroughly.
In the ninth year of his age he was sent to a school in
a neighbouring parish, taught by a Mr Summers, who in-
structed him in the elements of Latin. When he first
went to school he was one of the worst writers in it ;
but after three months he became the best, and hence-
forth caligraphy was a passion with him, everything he
wrote being remarkable for the beauty and neatness of
its penmanship. What he learned at school his father
mprinted firmly on his mind by making him repeat at
home in the evening the English lessons he had learned
throughout the day ; and this not loosely and carelessly,
but in the rigorous order in which they had been taught.
It is not impossible but that this severe discipline may
have considerably strengthened Porson's naturally great
powers of memory, for which he was all his life so
noted. At this time, like all clever boys, he was exceed-
ingly fond of reading, borrowing from his neighbours
when the meagre store of his father's bookshelves was
exhausted.
The talents of the lad and his avidity in the pursuit of
knowledge, soon began to be talked of in the parish, and
reports of him coming to the ears of Mr Hewitt, the
Richard P or son. 95
vicar, he very generously offered to take him under his
care and give him instruction along with his own sons.
This Mr Hewitt appears to have been a man of singular
and exemplary character. Upon a very small income he
educated five sons for the university, where they all took
distinguished positions, and it was reported in the neigh-
bourhood that he had been seen, like another Curius
Dentatus, roasting a turnip for supper, and rocking a
cradle, and reading a book at the same time. Under this
worthy man's tuition Porson remained for three years,
advancing in knowledge by rapid steps and earning the
warm approval of his patron, who spoke of him in high
terms to Mr Norris, a wealthy gentleman residing in a
neighbouring parish. Mr Norris expressed his willing-
ness to assist the boy if his abilities should be found at
all equal to what Mr Hewitt represented them to be.
Throughout his whole career, Porson was singularly for-
tunate in finding patrons who were both willing and able
to assist him. After sundry preliminaries he was sent to
Cambridge to undergo an examination by the Greek pro-
fessor and the senior tutors of Trinity College, an ordeal
which might have reasonably frightened a ripe scholar,
much more a raw country lad. However, the result was
that Porson came off with flying colours, whereupon Mr
Norris resolved to raise a fund to which he himself
would largely contribute, in order that he might be
educated at a first class school and afterwards at the uni-
versity. The scheme succeeded beyond expectation,
and in August 1774, Porson, now fifteen years of age,
was sent to Eton.
At Eton Porson's career was fairly successful, but not
extraordinarily so. Kidd says, that when he entered
Eton he was " totally ignorant of quantity," and that,
"after he had toiled up the arduous path to literary
96 Great Scholars.
eminence, he was often twitted by his quondam school-
fellows with those violations of quantity which are com-
mon in first attempts at Latin verse." He continued to
be as fond of reading as ever, and the remarkable tena-
city of his memory soon became especially noticeable.
Of this he one day gave an extraordinary instance. He
was going up with the rest of his form to say a lesson in
Horace, and not being able to find his book at the time,
took one which was thrust into his hand by another boy.
He was called on to construe, and went on with great
accuracy, but the master observed that he did not
appear to be looking on that part of the page on which
the lesson was. He therefore took the book from his
hand, and found it to be an English translation of
Ovid's Metamorphoses. Porson was desired to continue
the construing, which he did without erring in a single
word. On the whole, however, while at Eton Porson
seems to have distinguished himself quite as much by his
powers for promoting fun out of the school as by his
abilities in the classes. He wrote an operatic drama,
" Out of the Fryingpan into the Fire," of considerable
smartness and vigour, and assailed such of 'his school-
fellows as had made themselves obnoxious to him by
pungent epigrams and sarcasms, weapons to which he
always resorted in time of difficulty. On his Eton life
Porson used to dwell with peculiar complacency, repeat-
ing his juvenile compositions with a zest which the re-
collection of his past enjoyment never failed to revive in
him. When he had been there about three years his
patron, Mr N orris, died, and it is supposed that the sud-
denness of his death prevented him from making any
provision in favour of his young protege. However, Sir
George Baker, who had been one of the principal contri-
butors to the first subscription for Porson, undertook to
Richard P or son. 97
collect subscriptions for the purpose of sending him to the
University, and secured enough to purchase him an annuity
of jQ%o for a few years. So after having been at Eton four
years, Porson, in 1 7 7 8, entered Trinity College, Cambridge.
The perusal of a copy of Toup's " Longinus," which the
head master of Eton presented to him as the reward of
a good exercise, first inclined his mind to those critical
researches in which he afterwards gained such celebrity.
The fame of Porson's talents had gone before him to
Cambridge, where he was welcomed as an alumnus likely
to do the University credit. Of his under-graduate life
little is known save that he conducted himself with cor-
rectness, and inspired the scholars of the university with
a strong belief of his powers to distinguish himself in
classical pursuits. In 1781 he gained the Craven
Scholarship, one of the highest university distinctions for
classics, and he appears also to have devoted consider-
able attention to mathematics, a fondness for which he
inherited from his father, and which he retained to the
end of his life. In 1782 he took his degree as third
senior optime, the number of the wranglers being eigh-
teen, and shortly afterwards obtained the first Chancel-
lor's Medal, thus winning the highest place in classics,
together with a respectable rank in mathematics. In
the same year he was elected to a fellowship, a rule
which should properly have excluded him being waived
on account of his eminent abilities. The emoluments
from his fellowship did not exceed £100 per annum, a
sum which, although the value of money is greatly
altered since then, must nevertheless be considered very
small. The fellowship was held under the obligation of
resigning it at the end of ten years unless he entered into
orders.
The first essay of Porson in the field of classical
98 Great Scholars.
criticism was in a journal called Muffs Review, at that
time published at Cambridge. In this periodical he
wrote, in 1783, a brief paper on Schutz's edition of
" Aeschylus," which was followed by several other articles
of greater importance, including a review of Brunch's
" Aristophanes," in which several acute emendations of
the text were suggested. About this time also he com-
menced his correspondence with foreign professors of
celebrity, which afterwards became extensive — extensive,
at least, on the side of the foreign professors, for Porson
was always an exceedingly bad correspondent — by writ-
ing to Professor Ruhnken on the subject of an edition of
" Aeschylus," which he contemplated publishing. His
letter to Ruhnken contained a few conjectural emenda-
tions of corrupt passages, which called forth the veteran
scholar's warmest commendations. To an edition of
Xenophon's "Anabasis," published at Cambridge, he
added a few notes of no very great importance. But a
jeu d? esprit he printed in 1787 in the Gentleman's Maga-
zine upon that absurd book, "Hawkins' Life of Johnson,"
is of more general interest than any of these minor
classical productions. Perhaps its most amusing passage
is the following burlesque imitation of Hawkins' style,
the humour of which will readily be apprehended even
by those who have never seen Hawkins' book. To aid
its comprehension it may be stated that Hawkins gives
a description of a watch which Johnson bought for
seventeen guineas. Porson affects to find the history of
this watch broken off abruptly, and to have accidentally
picked up a leaf which had originally filled up the
chasm : —
Fragment.
...»." And here, touching this watch, already by me
mentioned, I insert a notable instance of the craft and
Richard P or son. 99
selfishness of the doctor's negro servant. A few days
after that whereon Dr Johnson died, this artful fellow
came to me and surrendered the watch, saying, at the
same time, that his master had delivered it to him a day
or two before his demise, with such demeanour and
gestures that he did verily believe that it was his inten-
tion that he, namely Frank, should keep the same. My-
self knowing that no sort of credit was due to a black
domestic and favourite servant, and withal considering
that the wearing thereof would be more proper for my-
self, and that I had got nothing by my trust as executor
save sundry old books, and coach hire for journeys
during the discharge of the said office; and, further,
reflecting on what I have occasion elsewhere to mention,
viz. — that since the abolishing of general warrants, temp.
Geo. III., no good articles in this branch can be had
any longer in England, — I took the watch from him,
intending to have it appraised by my own jeweller, a very
honest and expert artificer, and in so doing to have
bought it as cheap as I could for myself, let it cost what
it would. Upon signifying this, my intention, to Frank,
the impudent negro said, 'he plainly saw there was no
good intended for him,' and in anger left me. He then
posted to the other executors ; and there being in the
people of this country a general propensity to humanity,
notwithstanding all my exertions to counteract the same
both in writing and otherwise, this being the case, I say,
he had found means to prepossess them so entirely in his
favour, that they snubbed me, and insisted that I should
make restitution. Finally, though perhaps I should not
have been amenable to any known judicature by keep-
ing the watch, I consented, being compelled thereto, to
let this worthless fellow retain that testimony of his
master's ill directed benevolence in extremis."
ioo Great Scholars.
As already mentioned, Porson's fellowship fell vacant
at the end of ten years unless he entered into Orders.
Accordingly he determined to enter into a course of
theological reading, in order to ascertain whether he
could conscientiously sign the Articles or not. The
result was that he made up his mind that he could not
sign them. " I found," he said, " that I should require
about fifty years reading to make myself thoroughly
acquainted with divinity— to satisfy my mind on all
points, and therefore I gave it up. There are fellows
who go into the pulpit assuming everything and knowing
nothing, but I would not do so." For Porson to give up
his fellowship in the circumstances he did, seems to us a
singularly magnanimous act. Jt was his sole means of
livelihood ; where else to look for a living he knew not.
If he had entered the Church, these were the golden
days of Greek scholarship, when to have edited a Greek
play was a safe stepping-stone to a deanery or even a
bishopric ; what Gibbon called the " fat slumbers of the
Church" offered him a secure and comfortable haven
where he might have passed his life enjoying otium
cum dignitate to the fullest extent. But Porson preferred
poverty and honesty to wealth and hypocrisy, and,
though his life was stained by many a blot, let us by no
means refuse him the praise due to this noble and manly
resolution. When such a man as Paley could declare
without reproach that " he was too poor to keep a con-
science," the virtue of the poor Cambridge scholar seems
to shine with redoubled lustre.
Among the books Porson met with in the course of
his theological reading was " Travis' Letters to Gibbon
on i John v. 7," the famous "Three witnesses" text.
In a note to the third volume of his history Gibbon had
observed that " the three witnesses have been established
Richard Porson. 101
in our Greek Testament by the prudence of Erasmus,
the honest bigotry of the Complutensian editors, the
typographical fraud or error of Robert Stephens in the
placing of a crotchet, and the deliberate falsehood or
strange misrepresentation of Theodore Beza." Travis
endeavoured with considerable ingenuity, but little
scholarship, to prove the genuineness of the verse in
question. Porson examined the subject with his cus-
tomary accuracy and care, and coming to the conclusion
that Travis was a presumptuous meddler, in order to
refute him wrote a series of letters to the Gentleman's
Magazine, which were afterwards republished in book
form. " I had read," he says, " though without examin-
ing every minute particle of their reasoning, Mill, Wetsein,
and Newton, and I was fully satisfied of the spuriousness
of the verse from my general recollection of their argu-
ments. But I must thus far confess my obligations to
Mr Travis, that the appearance of his book induced me
to reconsider the subject with a little more attention.
In the course of this enquiry I found such astonishing
instances of error, such intrepid assertions contrary to
fact, that I almost doubted whether I were awake while I
read them. But at last I discovered that Mr Travis was
a stranger to all criticism, sacred and profane ; and that
he had read scarcely anything on the subject of the
contested verse, except Martin's publications. This
discovery opened my eyes, and made me see why Mr
Travis was, as Professor Michaelis rightly says, half a
century behindhand in his information." The full his-
tory of this famous controversy cannot be given here.
It is sufficient to say that, according to the almost uni-
versal opinion of scholars, both then and since, Porson
gained a complete victory, and utterly demolished the
unfortunate Travis. "Travis," writes Parr, "was a super-
102 Great Scholars.
ficial and arrogant declaimer ; and his letter to Gibbon
brought down upon him the just and heavy displeasure
of an assailant equally irresistible for his wit, his reason-
ing, and his erudition — I mean the immortal Richard
Porson." Travis is treated with the utmost contempt,
the letters being couched in a vein of vehement scorn
and irony, another of the many proofs that the study of
classical literature by no means always softens the man-
ners, and sometimes allows its followers to be very fierce
indeed. The literary success of the " Letters to Travis "
was the occasion of a great pecuniary loss to Porson.
A Mrs Turner, who had been one of the most liberal
contributors to the fund for sending him to college, being
a lady of pious disposition, was much distressed when
she heard that he had resolved to resign his fellowship
rather than take orders. Her attorney, who had a
grudge against Porson, represented the " Letters to
Travis," to her as a fierce assault upon Christianity, and
as intended to strike at the root of all evangelical reli-
gion. By these calumnies she was induced to alter her
will, in which she had assigned to Porson a large sum of
money, and to bequeath him only a legacy of £30.
In 1790 there was published at Oxford a reprint of
Toup's Emendationes in Suidam, containing some short
annotations by Porson. The preface to these is eminently
characteristic. He claims the indulgence of the reader
for blaming a man of Toup's eminence oftener than
praising him. He had never, he says, admired the prac-
tice of those critics who exclaim pulchrc, bene, recte, at
every second or third word ; adding that if he had not
had a high opinion of Toup's abilities he would never
have thought it worth while to edit his work. To the
ceremonies and compliments of scholarship, Porson was
always averse.
Richard P or son. 103
The winter of 1 790-1 Porson spent with Dr Parr at
Hatton, collecting materials for future works, and enrich-
ing his mind with the stores of Parr's library. His
manner of life there has been described by Parr's
biographer, Dr Johnstone. He rose late, and seldom
walked out, sitting in the library till dinner, reading or
taking notes in his exquisitely neat hand. Except to Parr,
whom he often consulted on the subject of his studies, he
seldom spoke a word in the morning, his manner then
being sullen, and his countenance gloomy. After dinner
his gravity relaxed a little ; but it was only at night, and
when he would collect the young men of the family about
him, that he appeared in his glory, and displayed his
really great powers of conversation. Dr Johnstone
speaks rapturously of the delights of his society at the
midnight hour, when he would astonish and delight his
audience with apt quotations and satirical remarks,
repeating pages of Barrow, whole letters of Richardson,
whole scenes of Foote. It may easily be supposed that
these orgies were more delightful to those who partici-
pated in them than to the mistress of the house. A
guest who was like a melancholy spectre all day, and a
noisy reveller all night, cannot have been an agreeable
one, and Mrs Parr, whose temper was none of the best,
was soon heartily tired of Porson. In order to get rid of
him, she purposely so insulted him, that it was impossible
he could any longer remain under her roof. For Porson,
Parr himself always entertained sentiments of the greatest
friendship and veneration.
The time during which Porson could hold his fellow-
ship had now expired, and what was he to do? Dr
Postlethwaite, the Master of Trinity College, good, easy-
minded man, earnestly counselled him to take orders,
and not relinquish the pleasant shelter offered by soft
104 Great ScJiolars.
academic shades. The following conversation took
place between them shortly before the fellowship fell
vacant : —
Person. " I am come, Sir, to inform you that my
fellowship will become vacant in a few weeks, in order
that you may appoint my successor."
Postlethwaite. " But, Mr Porson, you do not mean to
leave us ? "
Porson. " It is not I who leave you, but you who dis-
miss me. You have done me every injury in your
power. But I am not come to explain or expostulate."
Postlethwaite. " I did not know, Mr Porson, that you
were so resolved."
Porson. " You could not conceive, Sir, that I should
have applied for a lay fellowship to the detriment of some
more scrupulous man, if it had been my intention to take
orders."
Porson's grievance against Postlethwaite was that he
had used his influence to prevent him from being elected
to a lay fellowship, which he wished to secure for John
Heys, his nephew. It is related that on the evening of
the day on which his fellowship expired, Porson ex-
pressed great anguish, and even shed tears when he
reflected on the gloom of his prospects.
His prospects certainly were gloomy enough. On
leaving Cambridge he went to London, where, to use his
own words, " he found himself a gentleman without a
sixpence in his pocket." There he lived for six weeks
on a guinea, taking only two slight meals in the twenty-
four hours. Like a much greater man, Samuel Johnson,
Porson appears to have borne the ills of poverty with a
calm stoicism which is much oftener admired than
imitated. Poverty of such severity, however, he was not
destined to endure long. A number of scholars and
Richard P or son. 105
literary men started a subscription to purchase an annuity
for him. Funds to the amount of ^2000 were soon
collected, most of the leading scholars of the day being
contributors. The interest of this sum amounted to
about ;£ioo a year, which Porson consented to accept
only upon condition that the principal should be placed
in the hands of trustees to be returned to the con-
tributors at his death.
Soon after Porson resigned his fellowship in 1792,
the professorship of Greek at Cambridge became vacant.
No man living was more qualified by eminent scholarship
to adorn this chair than Porson. As his high qualifica-
tions were universally recognised, Dr Postlethwaite, as if
to make some amends for his previous conduct, wrote to
Porson asking him to offer himself as a candidate for the
office. Porson's objections to take orders resting not
merely on his unfitness to undertake clerical duties, but
on conscientious difficulties with regard to the signing of
the Articles, he feared that subscription to them might
be necessary, and so prove a bar to his accepting the
office. Part of the letter he wrote to Postlethwaite
on this occasion is worth quoting. Its undertone of
sarcasm shows the bitter feeling with which he regarded
his exclusion from Cambridge. " The same reasons," he
says, " which hindered me from keeping my fellowship
by the method you obligingly pointed out to me, would,
I am greatly afraid, prevent me from being Greek pro-
fessor. Whatever concern this may give me for myself,
it gives me none for the public. I trust there are at least
twenty or thirty in the university equally able and willing
to undertake the office; possessed, many, of talents
superior to mine, and all of a more complying con-
science. This I speak upon the supposition that the
next Greek professor will be compelled to read lectures ;
106 Great Scholars.
but if the place remains a sinecure, the number of quali-
fied persons will be greatly increased. And though it
were even granted that my industry and attention might
possibly produce some benefit to the interests of learning
and the credit of the university, that trifling gain would
be as much exceeded by keeping the professorship a
sinecure, and bestowing it upon a sound believer, as
temporal considerations are outweighed by spiritual.
Having only a strong persuasion, not an absolute cer-
tainty, that such a subscription is required of the pro-
fessor elect, if I am mistaken I hereby offer myself as a
candidate ; but, if I am right in my opinion, I shall beg
of you to order my name to be erased from the boards."
Postlethwaite immediately replied that no subscription
was necessary, and that a day had been appointed for
his examination, if any one had the courage to attempt it.
Porson thereupon offered himself as a candidate, and
was elected unanimously.
The salary attached to the office was only ^40 per
annum, but the dignity was considerable. Porson
entered upon his new duties with a good deal of
enthusiasm, resuming his studies and planning courses of
lectures. " Porson," wrote Burney to Parr, " is in much
better health than he has been for several months. His
fancy, memory, taste, and philological powers are in as
high vigour as ever; though in a conversation lately,
upon the subject of the Greek professorship, he com-
plained of the difficulty of recalling the mind to a pursuit
from which it has been torn, and how hard a task it was,
when a man's spirit had once been broken, to renovate
it." Either because rooms were not afforded him in
which to deliver his lectures, or because he was incorrig-
ibly indolent, the lecture scheme came to nothing,
although the delivery of lectures would have increased
Richard P or son. 107
his income considerably. Henceforth he seems to have
resided principally in London, where he was appointed
to superintend an edition of Heyne's " Virgil," then being
printed at the London press. It reflects but little credit
on his editorial care if it be true, as is said, that it con-
tains nine hundred errors which common attention on his
part would have rendered impossible. The blame, on
Porson's declaration, lay wholly with the booksellers,
who, he said, paid no attention to his corrections.
However this may be, Porson was qualified for higher
things than a mere corrector of the press, and doubtless
the commonplace drudgery his duties involved was
eminently distasteful to him.
In 1795 there was printed, at the famous Foulis press
in Glasgow, a magnificent folio edition of 'VEschylus," said
to contain eight hundred ^corrections by Porson. Ac-
cording to a note in the " Pursuits of Literature," it ori-
ginated thus :— Mr Porson, the Greek professor at
Cambridge, lent his manuscript corrections and conjec-
tures on the text of "yEschylus " to a friend in Scotland ;
for he once had an intention of publishing an edition 01
that tragedian. His corrected text fell into the hands of
the Scotch printer, Foulis, and, without the Professor's
leave, or even knowledge, he published a magnificent
edition of ".YEschylus " from it without notes. Though
never openly acknowledged by Porson, the edition is said
to bear indubitable marks of his hand.
Hitherto we have said nothing about Porson's one
notorious vice — his gross addiction to intemperance.
But it is impossible to write his biography without allud-
ing to this unsavoury subject. Most people's knowledge
of Porson is confined to the two facts, that he was a great
scholar and a great drinker. Of a great many anecdotes
which have accumulated round his name, a considerable
io8 Great Scholars.
number relate more or less to his indulgence in drink.
He lived in a hard-drinking age, in an age when such
men as Pitt and Dundas were not ashamed to go drunk
to the House of Commons, yet even then his gross in-
temperance was noted and censured. Willingly would
we pass over this topic, but it cannot be' done — to use
the stale comparison, to act Hamlet with the part of the
melancholy Dane omitted, would be as feasible as to
write about Porson without mentioning his drinking
habits.
It is probable that it was while an undergraduate
at Cambridge that he first gave way to that appetite for
drink which was the bane of his subsequent life. The
ambition to be " King of the company," always apt to be
a besetting sin in men of talent, seems to have been one
great source of temptation to him. In society he was
always shy and constrained, " till the opening of the
second bottle." He used to say, that the highest com-
pliment he ever received was that of some drinking
companion at the Cider Cellars. " Dick," said this
tavern Bardolph, " can beat us all ; he can drink all night
and spout all day." The blackest account of Porson's
intemperance is given in a letter of Byron to Murray,
written in 1818. It runs as follows : — " I remember to
have seen Porson at Cambridge in the hall of our college,
and in private parties ; and I can never recollect him
except as drunk, or brutal, and generally both — I mean
in an evening ; for in the hall he dined at the Dean's
table, and I at the vice-master's, and he then and there
appeared sober in his demeanour ; but I have seen him
in a private party of undergraduates take up a poker to
them, and heard him use language as blackguard as his
actions. Of all the disgusting brutes, sulky, abusive, and
intolerable, Porson was the most bestial, as far as the
Richard P or son. 109
few times I saw him went. He was tolerated in this state
among the young men for his talent ; as the Turks think
a madman inspired, and bear with him. He used to re-
cite, or rather vomit, pages of all languages, and could
hiccup Greek like a Helot ; and certainly Sparta never
shocked her children with a grosser exhibition than this
man's intoxication." It is impossible not to believe that
there is only too much truth in this. Nevertheless, it
should be held in mind, that Byron's judgments in his
letters upon men, books, and things, are to be received
with considerable caution and reserve. They always
give one the impression of having been written with a
view to effect, and the misanthropic spirit of the noble
bard led him to scan human frailty with a far from
lenient eye.
As was natural, Porson's habits of dissipation changed
his appearance greatly for the worse. Originally he had
been a remarkably handsome man, of nearly six feet in
height, distinguished for expressive and penetrating eyes,
well-formed features, and a clear open forehead. In a
few years, however, his face and figure became even re-
pulsively degraded. His nose was so swollen and red as
to require constant application of brown paper steeped in
vinegar. Though as little attentive to personal appear-
ance as any man, he was sometimes compelled to decline
invitations to dinner, on the ground that his face would
not bear the inspection of strangers. His clothes and
linen had such a disreputable appearance, that servants
were unwilling to admit him into their master's houses.
Sir Joseph Banks once invited him to dine with him at
an hotel in London. He waited patiently for the dis-
tinguished Greek scholar, but he never made his appear-
ance. Upon meeting him afterwards, and inquiring the
reason of his absence, Porson simply replied that he
i ro Great Scholars.
" had come." Banks's conjecture was, that the waiters,
seeing his shabby dress, had refused him admittance.
The following anecdote Porson himself used to delight
to relate. Calling one day on one of the judges with
whom he was intimate, he was shown into a room where a
gentleman who did not know him was waiting for the
barber. Seeing before him a seedy-looking man, ill-
dressed, and with a patch of brown paper on his inflamed
nose, the gentleman, starting up, said to him, " Are you
the barber ? " " No," replied Porson, " but I am a cun-
ning shaver, very much at your service." Maltby relates
having seen him one morning at Leigh and Sotheby's
auction room, even dirtier than usual, " looking as if he
had been rolling in a kennel." Being once at a ball in
the assembly rooms at Bath, the master of the ceremonies
went up to Mr Warner, the gentleman who accompanied
him, and said, " Pray, Mr Warner, who is that man you
have been speaking to ? I can't say I much like his ap-
pearance." " To tell the truth," adds Warner, " Porson,
with lank, uncombed locks, a loose neckcloth, and
wrinkled stockings, exhibited a striking contrast to the
gorgeous crowd around." From all these anecdotes we
may gather pretty conclusively that if Porson had been
judged only by his appearance, he would have been em-
phatically " cut" by all respectable society.
The quantity of alcoholic fluid he could imbibe was
something portentous and unexampled. Mrs Parr com-
plained that during three weeks he was at Hatton
more brandy had been consumed than during all the
time of their housekeeping there. One Sunday morning
when at Eton, Porson met Dr Goodal, the provost, going
to church, and asked him where Mrs Goodal was. Beine
answered that she was at breakfast, he said he would go
and breakfast with her. He accordingly went, and being
Richard Porson.
1 1 i
asked what he would take, answered " Porter." Porter
was sent for, pot after pot, and the sixth pot was just
being brought up when Dr Goodal returned from church.
Not only was the quantity Porson could drink extraor-
dinary, being a bad sleeper, he could sit up drinking
night after night, apparently not in the least exhausted
by his potations. This practice was a source of great
annoyance to his friends, who could scarcely induce him
to retire at a decent hour. Home Tooke, knowing his
habit, on one occasion contrived to find out the oppor-
tunity of requesting his company when he knew he had
been sitting up the whole of the night before. However,
this made no difference. Porson sat up the second night
also till the hour of sunrise. The more regular of his
friends were at length compelled to fix an hour on which
he should take his departure. Eleven o'clock was gene-
rally the stipulated time, and Porson invariably remained
till the very last moment. Once, when the lady of the
house gave him a gentle hint that she wished him to
retire a little earlier, he observed, with some asperity,
that it wanted a quarter of an hour of eleven.
Porson, latterly at anyrate, would seem to have been
a dipsomaniac, his craving for drink having developed
itself into a disease. Rogers relates that he would not
scruple to return to the dining-room after the company
had left, pour into a tumbler the drops remaining in the
wine-glasses, and drink off the mixture. " Rather than
not drink at all," said Home Tooke, " Porson would
drink ink." Maltby relates that Porson, being one day
sitting with a gentleman in the house of a mutual friend,
who was then ill and confined to bed, a servant came
into the room for a bottle of embrocation which had been
left there. " I drank it an hour ago," said Porson.
Another anecdote of the same sort runs as follows : —
I 12
Great Scholars.
" When Hoppner the painter was residing in a cottage a
few miles from London, Porson, one afternoon, un-
expectedly arrived there. Hoppner said that he could
not offer him dinner, as Mrs Hoppner had gone to town,
and had carried with her the key of the closet which
contained the wine. Porson, however, declared he would
be content with a mutton chop and beer from the next
ale-house, and accordingly stayed to dine. During the
evening Porson said, ' I am quite sure that Mrs Hoppner
keeps some nice bottle for her private drinking in her
own bed-room ; so pray try if you can lay your hands on
it.' His host assured him that Mrs Hoppner had no such
secret store ; but Porson insisting that a search should
be made, a bottle was at last discovered in the lady's
apartment to the surprise of Hoppner, and the joy of
Porson, who soon finished its contents, pronouncing it
to be the best gin he had tasted for a long time. Next
day Hoppner, somewhat out of temper, informed his wife
that Porson had drunk every drop of it. ' Drunk every
drop of it ! ' cried she ; ' my God, it was spirits of wine
for the lamp ! ' " There is an apocryphal air about this
anecdote ; however, we give it as we find it. The fact
that Porson could, when he chose, observe total absti-
nence for a considerable time from wine and spirituous
liquors, seems to militate a little against the dipsomania
theory, which the foregoing anecdote appears to go to
prove to be a correct one. Perhaps, after all, dipsomania
is little else than a fine name for a confirmed habit of
intemperance. In regard to his eating, as to the quality
of his food he was easily satisfied, as the following anec-
dote shows : — " He went once to the Bodleian to collate
a manuscript ; and, as the work would occupy him several
days, Routh, the President of Magdalen, who was leaving
home for the long vacation, said to him at his departure,
Richard P or son. 1 1 3
'Make my house your home, Mr Porson, during my
absence ; for my servants will have orders to be quite at
your command, and to procure you whatever you please.'
When he returned, he asked for the account of what the
Professor had had during his stay. The servant brought
the bill, and the Doctor, glancing at it, observed a fowl
entered in it every day. ' What ! ' said he, ' did you
provide for Mr Porson no better than this, but oblige
him to dine every day on fowl ? ' ' No, sir,' replied the
servant ; ' but we asked the gentleman the first day what
he would have for dinner, and as he did not seem to
know very well what to order, we suggested a fowl.
When we went to him about dinner every day after-
wards, he always said, " The same as yesterday," and this
was the only answer we could get from him.' "
Porson's copious potations do not appear to have in-
jured his mental powers to any great extent even to the
very last, but they materially injured his power of appli-
cation. The London booksellers once offered him
^"3000 for an edition of Aristophanes, a task for which
he was pre-eminently qualified, and which he could
easily have completed in six months ; but his inveterate
idleness led him to neglect the offer. " When Pitt was
in power," says Macaulay, alluding to Pitt's scanty
patronage of literature, " the greatest philologist of the
age, his own contemporary at Cambridge, was reduced
to earn a livelihood by the lowest literary drudgery, and
to spend, in writing squibs for the Morning Chronicle,
years to which we might have owed an almost perfect
text of the whole tragic and comic drama of Athens."
This is one of Macaulay's many over-charged statements.
When he wrote it he was surely oblivious of the offer of
^3000. At the time Porson was writing for the Morn-
H
1 1 4 Great Scholars.
ing Chronicle he was not at all exposed to the pressure
of pecuniary difficulty.
Quitting these disagreeable themes, we resume our
narrative at the point where we left off. The next
notable event in Porson's life was his marriage. He had
been for some time acquainted with Mr Perry, the editor
of the Morning Chronicle, to which he became a frequent
contributor. In November 1795 he married Mrs Lunan,
Perry's sister. The circumstances attending the mar-
riage were very characteristic of the man. One night
while smoking his pipe with a friend, George Gordon, at
the Cider Cellars, he suddenly said, " Friend Gordon, do
you not think the widow Lunan an agreeable sort of
person, as times go ? " Gordon replied in the affirma-
tive. " In that case," said Porson, " you must meet me
to-morrow morning at St Martin's-in-the-Fields at eight
o'clock." He then paid his reckoning and departed.
Gordon was astonished, but repaired next morning to
church at the appointed hour, and found Porson with
Mrs Lunan and a female friend, and the clergyman wait-
ing to perform the ceremony. Gordon found, on in-
quiry, that it was some time since Porson had proposed
to Mrs Lunan, but that the lady, as Porson wished the
ceremony to be performed without her brother's know-
ledge, had been unwilling to listen, and had only given
her consent on finding that she must either yield to
Porson's wishes on this point, or reject him altogether.
Now that the marriage was completed, Gordon urged
Porson to allow Mr Perry to be informed of it, to which
Porson at length agreed, saying, " Friend George, I shall
for once take advice, which, as you know, I seldom do,
and hold out the olive-branch, provided you will accom-
pany me ; for you are a good peace-maker." Gordon
agreed, and though Perry was at first somewhat hurt by
Richard P or son. 1 1 5
the secrecy, they found means to reconcile him ; where-
upon a dinner was provided, and an apartment prepared
for the newly-married couple. Immediately after dinner
Porson adjourned to the house of a friend, where he sat
without making the slightest allusion to the change in his
condition, and without attempting to stir till the hour
prescribed by the family obliged him to depart. On
leaving his friend's house he went to the Cider Cellars,
where he stayed till eight next morning.
The marriage, thus inauspiciously begun, turned out a
much happier one than might have been expected. Mrs
Porson was an amiable and good-natured woman, and,
says Colonel Gordon, " the Professor treated her with all
the kindness of which he was capable." During the
period of Porson's married life a great change for the
better came over his habits. He became more attentive
to time and seasons, and there even appeared a hope
that he might be won, by the domestic comfort by which
his wife surrounded him, from his practice of excessive
tippling. Unfortunately, however, all such expectations
were blasted by the death of his wife, which took place
a year and a half after the marriage.
That Porson had not been a bad husband appears from
the fact that Perry, his brother-in-law, always continued
his steadfast friend. While on a visit to him at Merton,
a fire took place in Porson's house which utterly de-
stroyed the labour of eight months. He had undertaken
to transcribe the Greek " Lexicon of Photius," having
borrowed the manuscript from Trinity College, Cam-
bridge. He had just completed the task, when, on the
morning of the day the fire broke out, he went to visit
Perry, fortunately taking with him the original manu-
script. The fire totally destroyed the transcript. On
Dr Raine informing him of his loss, Porson first in-
1 1 6 Great Scholars.
quired if any lives had been lost. On being answered in
the negative, he exclaimed, " Then I will tell you what I
have lost — twenty years of my life ! " at the same time
repeating the stanza of Gray : —
" 'To each his sufferings — all are men
Condemned alike to groan ;
The tender for another's pain,
The unfeeling for his own.' "
However, Porson at length reconciled himself to his
loss, and sat down to make a second transcript of Pho-
tius, as accurate as the first. This labour was not so
irksome to him as it would have been to many. He de-
lighted in penmanship, and wrote the Greek characters
with singular beauty.
Writing squibs for the Morning Chronicle appears to
have been one of Porson's most favourite occupations.
In 1796 he published in it Greek and Latin versions of
the nursery song, " Three Children sliding on the Ice,"
with a satirical letter, stating that the Greek version was
a portion of one of the lost tragedies of Sophocles, which
he had been so fortunate as to find at the bottom of an
old trunk. The letter was signed Sam. England, and
was intended as a satire on the numerous men of emi-
nence who had been duped by Ireland's pretended
Shakspearian discoveries, which Porson had all along
considered a wretched imposture.
In 1797 appeared anonymously the work which con-
clusively proved Porson to be the first Greek scholar in
Europe — his edition of the " Hecuba." It was a small
duodecimo volume, with a short preface, in which he
modestly announced that nothing recondite or of deep
research was to be expected in the notes, as the edition
was intended for tiros. This edition involved Porson in
two literary quarrels. Gilbert Wakefield, a man of per-
Richard Porson. 1 1 7
haps considerable scholarship, but with a sad lack of
sound judgment and common sense, had before pub-
lished an edition of the " Hecuba," with some emenda-
tions, of none of which had Porson deigned to take the
slightest notice. Wakefield, who was an extremely vain
man, was exceedingly nettled at this, the more so be-
cause he had some slight acquaintance with Porson. He
hastened in great agitation to the shop of Evans the
publisher, and asked him who the editor was. On being
answered, " Mr Porson, of course," Wakefield replied,
" But I want proof, positive proof." " Well, then," said
Evans, " I saw Mr Porson present a large paper copy to
Mr Cracherode, and heard him acknowledge himself the
editor." Wakefield accordingly hastened home and
wrote his " Diatribe Extemporalis," which may still be
read with amusement by the classical scholar, on account
of its insane passages of ridiculous rage. He angrily
asks whether it is fair for a. man who had always been
treated by himself as a friend, to write on the same sub-
jects as himself, and having such a favourable opportu-
nity of commending him not to do so. Porson, on
receiving a copy of Wakefield's performance, observed
that it was as unskilful as it was rash, and that a couple
of columns in a morning paper would be sufficient to
show its want of solidity. He added, " I hope we shall
not meet, for a violent quarrel would be the conse-
quence." In connection with this squabble, an amusing
anecdote is told. Porson, on the evening of the publi-
cation of the " Diatribe," was at a club to which he
belonged, consisting of seven members and a president ;
when, in the course of the evening, the president pro-
posed that each of the members should toast a friend,
accompanying his name with a suitable quotation. When
it came to him, Porson, whose potations had been pretty
1 1 8 Great Scholars.
deep, exclaimed, " It is my turn — Gilbert Wake-
field." " Good, Mr Porson," said the president, " but
not enough : quote, if you please, as well as name ; our
law, like that of the Medes and Persians, altereth not."
" What's Hie, hie, hue, Hecuba to him, or he to Hie, hie,
hue Hecuba," roared the indignant professor. Wakefield
was not an antagonist worthy of Porson's steel, and the
way he took his revenge was characteristic. In his after
works he scarcely deigned to mention him by name, but
alluded in passing to some of his emendations and remarks,
which he treats with the most edifying contempt.
Porson's other quarrel was with a man of far greater
powers than Wakefield, Gottfried Hermann, one of the
leading continental critics. Ignorant of Porson's full
strength, and perceiving that in his preface to the
" Hecuba" he had made several assertions unsupported
by much proof, he resolved to put forth a rival edition
and preface, in which he adopted to Porson the attitude
of a superior towards an inferior. In his preface he ob-
serves that Porson " was said to have made many obser-
vations on the subject of metres ; a subject which it was
the more desirable to illustrate, as the text of Euripides,
in this respect especially, is somewhat more difficult of
emendation than that of the other tragic writers ; but
though some remarks, indeed, on this department of
classical learning have been offered by Porson, yet he
has chosen to state them arbitrarily ond oracularly,
rather than with the fulness of explanation which it is
the duty of a critic to give." Porson paid Hermann the
compliment of being deeply incensed at him, and re-
garded him ever after as a personal enemy. He used to
allude to him and Wakefield together as four-footed ani-
mals, and to say that what he wrote in future should be
written in such a manner that they should not reach it
Richard P or son. 1 1 9
with their paws though they stood on their hind legs to
get at it. Hermann's animadversions drew forth from
Porson a Supplement to the preface to his " Hecuba," in
which he amply vindicated the opinions he had before
advanced. Hermann is not mentioned in the Supple-
ment \ but as almost every line contains some allusion
to the blunders he had committed, it must have caused
him to feel keenly how presumptuous he had been in
attacking so great a scholar as Porson. Quarrels be-
tween scholars are apt to remind people in general of a
tempest in a teapot, the acrimony of the language and
the smallness of the interests involved appearing so pain-
fully discrepant. As the greater part of this controversy
relates to subtleties about Greek metres, and such like
points, it is utterly impossible to give the general readei
any account of it.
The year after the publication of the " Hecuba,"
Porson published his edition of the " Orestes," edited
upon the same principles and with equal learning. His
contributions to the Morning Chronicle still continued
numerous. In the " Pursuits of Literature" he is charged
with giving up to Perry what was meant for mankind,
and is exhorted to write no more in Mr Perry's little
democratic closet, fitted up for the wits at the Morning
Chronicle office. " It is beneath you," says the author.
" I write seriously; I know your abilities. It may do well
enough for Joseph Richardson, Esq., author of the
comedy of the ' Fugitives,' if a certain political drama-
tist's compositions leave him any abilities at all, which I
begin to doubt." A good many of Porson's lucubrations
are reproduced in Mr Watson's biography, but they do
not possess any very great merit. Indeed, they are prin-
cipally remarkable as showing with what poor literary
matter editors were then content to fill their columns
1 20 Great Scholars.
and think clever writing. The best of Porson's produc-
tions in this line are his epigrams, for writing which he
had considerable talents. One night, when Perry came
back from the House of Commons with a story that Pitt
and Dundas were too drunk to speak, Porson, being
vastly amused, called for his pipe and tankard, and
knocked off one hundred and one epigrams before the
day dawned. As might be expected they are of no very
great merit. The following are the best specimens :—
" When Billy found he scarce could stand,
' Help, help ! ' he cried, and stretched his hand
To faithful Henry calling ;
Quoth Hal, ' My friend, I'm sorry for't,
'Tis not my practice to support
A minister that's falling.'
' Who's up ? ' inquired Burke of a friend at the door.
' Oh ! no one,' says Paddy ; though Pitt's on the floor.
Your foes in war to overrate
A maxim is of ancient date ;
Then sure 'twas right in time of trouble
That our good rulers should see double.
Your gentle brains with full libations drench ,
You've then Pitt's title to the Treasury Bench."
Much of Porson's time, however, was employed to
better purpose than the writing of mediocre epigrams.
In 1799 appeared his edition of the " Phcenissse," in the
notes to which he abstained from making any reference
to Hermann or Wakefield, with the exception of one
slight allusion to Wakefield. Besides editing " Euripides,"
he collated the Harleian manuscript of the " Odyssey "
for the Grenville edition of Homer, then being published
at Oxford. To this work he devoted himself with more
Richard For son. 1 2 1
than ordinary diligence, shutting himself up for two or
three days together, and being quite inaccessible save to
his intimate friends. " One morning," says Maltby, " I
went to call upon him there [at Essex Court] ; and
having inquired at his barber's close by if Mr Porson was
at home, was answered, ' Yes, but he has seen no one
for two days.' I, however, proceeded to his chamber,
and knocked more than once. He would not open it,
and I came downstairs. As I was recrossing the court,
Porson, who had perceived that I was the visitor, opened
the window, and stopped me." His remuneration for
this labour was ^50 and a large paper copy of the edi-
tion. Porson was a most accurate and painstaking
collator. A reader of Greek manuscript must be a
scribe himself, and a great deal of the facility with which
Porson performed his collations is to be attributed to his
practice as a caligrapher. A few critical remarks are
scattered through the collation, the conclusion of which
runs as follows : — " Thus I have at last, I hope, left no
important error in this collation ; that there are no omis-
sions I will not venture to assert. If any one, however,
shall take upon himself to supply my deficiencies, and to
correct, at the same time, such mistakes as I have com-
mitted, let him be assured that he will do what is accept-
able to the republic of letters as well as to myself.
Whether he do it tenderly or harshly will have no effect
on me, if he but do it accurately ; but it may possibly
have a good effect on himself, if he be anxious to show
that he undertook the task rather to be of service to the
republic of letters than to depress a rival."
In 1 80 1 appeared at Cambridge an edition of the
" Medea," edited by Porson, the last of his critical
labours on Euripides. Why he did not go on with the
remaining plays seems capable of no satisfactory explana-
122 Great Scholars.
tion, except that in his habits he was rapidly proceeding
from bad to worse. Porson's editions of these four plays
of Euripides — "Hecuba," "Orestes," " Phcenissoe," and
" Medea," have been often reprinted, and it is mainly
upon them that his fame as a Greek scholar rests. What
he did for Greek scholarship has been thus described by
a competent authority* : — "We must ask our readers to
take for granted what we have not space to prove by
example — that Porson attained, in a measure beyond his
contemporaries, ' the vision and faculty divine ' of com-
prehending the very soul and substance of the Greek
language. Bentley possessed in an equal degree the
power of deciphering manuscripts and detecting the
errors of copyists and editors. But the far wider round
and compass of his reading caused him to pay less par-
ticular attention to the laws of Greek metre, and this,
accordingly, came nearly a virgin province into Porson's
hands. How complete a discovery was his ' Metrical
Canons,' contained in his Preface and Supplement to
the four plays edited by him, may be seen by any one
who takes the trouble to compare Hermann's first edition
of the ' Elementa Doctrinse Metricae ' with the later one
of that work, or the text of any edition of Euripides
earlier than Porson's first ' Hecuba.' To compare great
things with less, the light thrown upon the order and
operations of the solar system by Copernicus and New-
ton was not more intense than the light thrown upon
the three principal measures of the Greek dramatic poets
by Porson. Next in order, though not in merit, is the pre-
cision with which he detects the wrong and supplies the
right reading, the word that alone responds to the need
of the passage in order to convert doubt into certainty,
* Edinburgh Review, No. 231.
Richard P or son. 1 2 3
what was obscure into what is clear, what was weak into
what is strong."
There can be no doubt that what mainly contributed
to Porson's great success as a scholar was his wonderful
memory. How indispensable a good memory is to a
classical scholar need not be pointed out — it is indeed
impossible to imagine one without it. Bentley, it is true,
complained that his " memory was none of the best;"
but those who have looked at his editions of classical
writers, and have observed with what readiness he quotes
parallel passages, and the ease with which, when neces-
sary, he summons up his stores of learning, will be inclined
to think that if his memory " was none of the best," it
was at all events a very useful one. One of the most
extraordinary features of Porson's memory was that it
was as indiscriminating as it was retentive and capacious.
" Nothing," we are told, "came amiss to his memory;
he would set a child right in his twopenny fable book,
repeat the whole of the moral tale of the " Dean of
Badajos," or a page of "iVthenseus on Cups," or "Eus-
tathius on Homer." " Whatsoever," says the writer of the
"Short Account" of Porson, "pleased the Professor's
fancy, he for the most part charged his memory with,
and brought it out for the amusement of his company,
whether in the shape of an oration of ' Longolius, on St
Louis,' or ' Davis's Latin Hudibras,' or the " Pleader's
Guide.' " Coxe relates that one afternoon at Cambridge,
having read a pamphlet by Ritson, he gave it to Porson
to peruse. Meeting Porson the ensuing evening the
conversation turned upon the pamphlet, and Coxe
alluded to a particular part of it about Shakespeare
which had interested him, adding, " I wish I could give
you a specific idea of the remainder." Porson thereupon
repeated a page and a half word for word. Upon Coxe
1 24 Great Scholars.
remarking, " I suppose you studied the whole evening at
the coffee-house and got it by heart," he replied, " Not
at all; I do assure you that I only read it once." He
once said he would undertake to learn a whole copy of
the Morning Chronicle by heart in a week. " Roderick
Random," one of his favourite books, he asserted he
could repeat by heart from beginning to end. Heber
informed Maltby that when Edgeworth's essay on " Irish
Bulls" came out, Porson used, when somewhat tipsy, to
recite whole pages of it verbatim with great delight. In
the presence of Basil Montague and some others he read
a page or two of a book, and then repeated what he had
read from memory. " That is very well," said one of
the company, " but could the Professor repeat it back-
wards ? " Porson immediately began to do so, and failed
only in two words.
He could easily recollect the context of any passage
quoted, and its position in any particular edition. One
day, calling on a friend who was reading " Thucydides,"
he was asked the meaning of a word. On hearing the
word he did not look at the book, but at once repeated
the passage. His friend asked him how he knew it was
that passage. " Because," replied Porson, " the word
occurs only twice in 'Thucydides,' once on the right
hand page in the edition which you are using, and once
on the left. I observed on which side you looked, and
accordingly knew to which passage you referred." At
another time, while sitting in the shop of Priestley the
bookseller, a gentleman came in and asked for a copy of
a particular edition of " Demosthenes," of which Priestley
was not in possession. The gentleman appearing to be
disappointed, Porson asked him whether he wished to
consult any particular passage in " Demosthenes." The
gentleman replied that he did, and mentioned the
Richard Porson. 1 25
passage. Porson then asked Priestley for a copy of the
Aldine edition, and having received it, and turned over
a few leaves, put his finger on the passage. Several
times in company he is said to have repeated the " Rape
of the Lock," with the various readings of the different
editions and a number of annotations. In Colton's
" Lacon " is related the following story, which, whether
true or not, at all events shows the widespread reputation
of Porson's memory : — " Porson was once travelling in a
stage-coach, when a young Oxonian, fresh from college,
was amusing the ladies with a variety of talk, and,
amongst other things, with a quotation, as he said, from
'Sophocles.' A Greek quotation, and in a coach too,
roused our slumbering Professor from a kind of dog-
sleep in a corner of the vehicle. Shaking his ears and
rubbing his eyes, ' I think, young gentleman,' said he,
' you favoured us just now with a quotation from
"Sophocles;" I do not happen to recollect it there.'
'Oh, sir/ replied our tiro, 'the quotation is word for
word as I have repeated it, and in " Sophocles " too ; but
I suspect, sir, it is some time since you were at college.'
The Professor, applying his hand to his greatcoat, and
taking out a small pocket edition of ' Sophocles,' quietly
asked him if he would be kind enough to show him the
passage in question in that little book. After rummag-
ing the pages for some time, he replied, ' On second
thoughts I now recollect that the passage is in " Eurip-
ides." ' ' Then, perhaps, sir,' said the Professor, putting
his hand into his pocket, and handing him a similar
edition of ' Euripides,' ' you will be so kind as to find it
for me in that little book.' The young Oxonian returned
to the task, but with no better success. The tittering of
the ladies informed him that he had got into a hobble.
At last, ' Bless me, sir,' said he, ' how dull I am! I
126 Great Scholars.
recollect now, yes, I perfectly remember, that the
passage is in " ^Eschylus." ' The inexorable professor
returned again to his inexhaustible pocket, and was in
the act of handing him an ' ^Eschylus,' when our
astonished freshman vociferated : ' Stop the coach.
Hullo, coachman, let me out, instantly I say, let me
out ! There's a fellow here has got the whole Bodleian
library in his pocket ; let me out, I say, let me out ; he
must be Porson or the devil.' "
Porson was very modest about his great powers
of memory, alleging that his memory was no better
than other people could make theirs, if they took the
same trouble. " Anyone," he said, " might become as
good a critic as I am, if he would only take the trouble
to make himself so. I have made myself what I am by
intense labour ; sometimes in order to impress a thing
upon my memory I have read it a dozen times, and
transcribed it six." Like many another, Porson some-
times longed for the art of forgetting. " My memory,"
he once said to a friend, " is a source of misery to me.
I never can forget anything."
To his memory may be partly attributed the extraor-
dinary accuracy which distinguishes his writings. He
had none of that " disdainful carelessness " which so
often led Bentley into blunders. " Whatever you quote,"
he used to say, " do it fairly and accurately, whether it
be 'Joe Millar ' or 'Tom Thumb,' or 'The Three Children
sliding on the Ice.' " According to Maltby he never wrote
a note on any passage of an ancient author, without care-
fully examining how it had been rendered by the differ-
ent translators. The carefulness of Porson in this way,
despite the great resources of his memory, may afford a
useful lesson to those who are too apt to trust to their
own recollections, and who hate the irksome task of con-
Richard P or son . 127
suiting books to ascertain whether their impressions are
accurate. Porson's anxious care was not without its re-
ward. No critic has made fewer blunders than he. In
his own department he reigns supreme. He had not
the wide range of knowledge possessed by such men as
Scaliger, Bentley, and Casaubon ; but considered simply
as a Greek scholar, no one, British or foreign, even down
to our own time, has surpassed him. His accuracy was
only equalled by his acuteness. Bentley often emended
passages where no emendation was required, apparently
for no other purpose than to show his ready ingenuity.
Porson never did so. There is scarcely an alteration of
"the text of any author proposed by him which has not
taken its place in succeeding editions.
" He was not only a great scholar," said Parr, " but
an honest, a very honest man." That he was so is ad-
mitted on all hands. Some very good scholars — Barnes
and Elmsley, for example — have not disdained to be guilty
of petty larceny in their annotations, by advancing the
emendations of others as their own, a crime of which
Porson was never guilty. Perhaps the lofty height of
scholarship from which he looked down upon his rivals
would have prevented him from purloining their slender
stores, even if he had been so inclined. " There is one
quality of mind," says Bishop Turton, " in which it may
be confidently affirmed that Mr Porson had no superior ;
I mean the most pure and inflexible love of truth. Under
the influence of this principle he was cautious, and
patient, and persevering in his researches ; and scrupu-
lously accurate in stating facts as he found them. All
who were intimate with him bear witness to this noble
part of his character ; and his works confirm the testi-
mony of his friends." " I think him," said Parr, " a
sincere and well-principled man ; with all his oddities,
128 Great Scholars.
and all his fastidiousness, he is quite exempt from base
and rancorous malignity ; he shows without concern what
may be the weaker parts of his character to vulgar minds,
and he leaves men of wisdom and genius to discover, and
to feel, and to admire, the brighter qualities of his head
and heart."
Porson's own estimate of what he had done was a
sufficiently humble one ; yet, perhaps, not altogether
inaccurate. He was not at all of the opinion of Bentley
and Parr, who always appeared to consider a great
scholar the greatest of men. Being once asked why he
had produced so little original matter, he replied, "I
doubt if I could produce any original work which could
command the attention of posterity. I can only be
known by my notes ; and I am quite satisfied if, three
hundred years hence, it shall be said that one Porson
lived towards the close of the eighteenth century, who did
a good deal for the text of Euripides." This is not the
place to discuss the great question of the merits and
value of classical education ; still, we may be permitted
to express a regret that, of a man of Porson's powers, it
cannot, in truth, be said that he accomplished any more
than this. That he was excellently qualified for aesthetic
as well as for verbal criticism, the prelection he delivered
on his election to the professorship abundantly testifies.
About the last critical labour Porson accomplished, was
the restoration of the text of the last twenty-six lines of the
famous Rosetta stone in the British Museum. This stone
is a block of black marble, on which are engraved three in-
scriptions in hieroglyphics, in Coptic, and in Greek, all of
the same import, setting forth the services which Ptolemy
the Fifth had done to his country, and decreeing various
honours to be paid to him. While Porson was employed
in restoring the mutilated inscription, he visited the
Richard P or son. 1 2 9
museum so often, that he got from the officials the name
of Judge Blackstone. The results of his sagacity were
afterwards printed in the "Transactions of the Antiquarian
Society."
When in 1800 the London Institution was established,
Porson was elected principal librarian. The emoluments
of the post were ^200, and a suite of rooms. The
mode in which he discharged his duties was not at all
satisfactory. His asthma, to which he had always been
subject, had increased ; so violent indeed were the
paroxysms of it occasionally, that his friends were often
afraid he would expire in their presence. His manner
of life also was by no means such as to make him a
suitable man for the office. His attendance was irregular,
he made no effort to increase the library, and he was
often brought home after midnight in a state of helpless
insensibility. Maltby says he had read a letter Porson
received from the directors of the institution, contain-
ing the cutting remark, " We only know that you are our
librarian by seeing your name attached to the receipts
for your salary." This reproof seems to have been well
merited, although Porson considered the directors " mer-
cantile and mean beyond merchandise and meanness."
In spite of his negligence, Dr Thomas Young relates
that he used to attend in his place when the reading-
room was open, and to communicate very readily all the
information required of him, by those who consulted him
respecting the objects of their studies.
The following letter of the Rev. Mr Hughes to Mr
Upcott, describing an interview he had with Porson in
1807, gives a good idea of what Porson was in his latter
years : —
" My dear Sir, — I wish it were in my power to give
I
i -jo Great Scholars.
3
you a more detailed account of my interview with your
celebrated predecessor than my memory will now permit,
t was the only one I ever had with him. It occurred
when I was an undergraduate, and I unfortunately made
no notes of it at the time, being then busily engaged
reading for my degree, which occupied almost all my
noughts. This interview took place in the rooms of my
private tutor, between whom and Porson a great intimacy
subsisted.
" After about an hour spent in various subjects of con-
versation, during which the Professor recited a great many
beautiful passages from authors in Greek, Latin, French,
and English, my tutor, seeing the visitation that was in-
tended for him, feigned an excuse for going into town,
and left Porson and myself together. I ought to have
observed that he had already produced one bottle of
sherry to moisten the Professor's throat, and that he left
out another, in case it should be required. Porson's
spirits by this time being elevated by the juice of the
grape, and being pleased with a well-timed compliment
which I had the good luck to address to him, he became
very communicative, said he was glad that we had met
together, desired me to take up my pen and paper, and
directed me to write down, from his dictation, many
curious algebraical problems with their solutions ; gave
me several ingenious methods of summing series ; and
ran through a great variety of the properties of numbers.
" After almost an hour's occupation in this manner, he
said, ' Lay aside your pen, and listen to the history of
a man of letters, — how he became a sordid miser from a
thoughtless prodigal, a . . . from a . . ., and a misan-
thrope from a morbid excess of sensibility.' (I forget
the intermediate step in the climax). He then com-
menced a narrative of his own life, from his entrance at
Richard P or son. i \ r
j
Eton school, through all the most remarkable periods, to
the day of our conversation. I was particularly amused
with the account of his school anecdotes, the tricks he
used to play upon his master and schoolfellows, and the
little dramatic pieces which he wrote for private repre-
sentation. From these he passed to his academical pur-
suits and studies, his election to the Greek professorship,
and his ejection from his fellowship through the influence
of Dr Postlethwaite, who, though he had promised it to
Porson, exerted it for a relation of his own. ' I was
then,' said the Professor, ' almost destitute on the wide
world, with less than ^40 a-year for my support, and
without a profession, for I never could bring myself to
subscribe articles of faith. I used often to lie awake
during the whole night and wish for a large pearl.'
" He then gave me a history of his life in London,
when he took chambers in the Temple, and read at times
moderately hard. He also recited to me, word for word,
the speech with which he accosted Dr Postlethwaite when
he called at his chambers, and which he had long pre-
pared against such an occurrence. At the end of this
oration the Doctor said not a word, but burst into tears and
left the room. Porson also burst into tears when he had
finished the recital of it to me.
" In this manner five hours passed away ; at the end
of which the Professor, who had finished the second
bottle of my friend's sherry, began to clip the King's
English, to cry like a child at the close of his periods,
and in other respects to show marks of extreme debility.
At length he rose from his chair, staggered to the door,
and made his way down stairs without taking the slightest
notice of his companion. I retired to my college, and
next morning was informed by a friend that he had been
out upon a search the previous evening for the Greek
132 Great Scholars.
Professor, whom he discovered near the outskirts of the
town leaning upon the arm of a dirty bargeman, and
amusing him by the most humorous and laughable anec-
dotes. I never even saw Porson after this day, but I
shall never cease to regret that I did not commit his
history to writing while it was fresh in my memory."
The end was at hand. One day in September 180S,
while walking along the Strand, Porson was seized with
an apoplectic fit, which deprived him of speech and of
the power of his hands. None of those who gathered
round him, when he fell senseless, knowing who he was,
he was conveyed to the workhouse in Castle Street, St
Martin's Lane, where medical assistance was immediately
given, and he was partially restored to consciousness.
As, however, he was still unable to speak, and nothing was
found upon him to indicate his place of residence, an
advertisement was inserted in the newspapers to apprise
his friends of his condition. It described him as a " tall
man, apparently about forty-five years of age, dressed in
a blue coat and black breeches, and having in his pocket
a gold watch, a trifling quantity of silver, and a memoran-
dum book, the leaves of which were filled chiefly with
Greek lines written in pencil, and partly effaced ; two or
three lines of Latin, and an algebraical calculation — the
Greek extracts being principally from ancient medical
works." This account was seen by Mr Savage, under-
librarian of the London Institution, who immediately
hastened to Castle Street, where he found Porson, very
weak, but now able to converse and to walk. Upon
reaching the Institution he recovered a little, and went
down to the library, where he met Dr Adam Clarke, who
has left an interesting account of the interview. " That
his prodigious memory had failed him a little for some
months before," he writes, " I had myself noticed, and
Richard P or son . 133
had spoken of it with regret to some of my friends ; but
neither then, nor at the time of which I am now writing,
could any other symptom of mental decay be discovered.
What follows will probably appear a sufficient proof that
he was not only in possession of his ordinary faculties,
but that his critical powers were vigorous and capable of
discerning the nicest distinctions.
" Having that morning occasion to call at the Institu-
tion, to consult an edition of a work to which the course
of my reading had obliged me to refer, on returning from
one of the inner rooms, I found that, since my entrance,
Mr Porson had walked into that room through which I had
just before passed. I went up to him, shook hands, and
seeing him look extremely ill, and not knowing what had
happened, expressed both my surprise and regret. He
then drew near to the window, and began, in a low,
tremulous, interrupted voice, to account for his present
appearance ; but his speech was so much affected, that I
found it difficult to understand what he said. He pro-
ceeded, however, to give me, as well as he could, an
account of his late seizure, and two or three times with
. particular emphasis said, ' I have just escaped death.' "
Dr Clarke then proceeds to give an account of a
conversation he had with him about a Greek inscription.
His narrative concludes as follows : —
"Seeing him so very ill and weak, I thought it best to
withdraw, and, having shook hands with him (which,
alas ! was the last time that I was to have that satisfac-
tion) and, with a pained heart, earnestly wished him a
speedy restoration to health, I walked out of the room,
promising to visit him, if possible, on Thursday morning,
with the Greek inscription. He accompanied me to the
head of the great staircase, making some remarks on his
indisposition which I did not distinctly hear ; and then,
134 Great Scholars.
leaning over the balustrade, he continued speaking to me
till I was more than half-way downstairs. When nearly
at the bottom I looked up, and saw him still leaning over
the balustrade ; I stopped a moment, as if to take a last
view of a man to whose erudition and astonishing critical
acumen my mind had ever bowed down with becoming
reverence, and then said, 'Sir, I am truly sorry to see you
so low.' To which he answered, ' I have had a narrow
escape from death.' And then leaving the stairhead, he
returned towards the library. This was the last conversa-
tion he was ever capable of holding on any subject. On
matters of religion, except in a critical way, he was, I
believe, never forward to converse. I should have been
glad to have known his views at this solemn time ; but
as there were some gentlemen present when we met in the
library, the place and time were improper."
Porson lingered on for a few days after this interview,
in a very feeble condition. Sometimes he appeared to be
in full possession of his faculties, but at other times his
mind seemed to wander a good deal. On the night of
the 25th September 1808 he expired, exactly as the clock
struck twelve.
His body was conveyed to Cambridge, and buried
with the highest academical honours in Trinity College
Chapel, at the foot of the statue of Newton. His epitaph
is his name alone, inscribed on a plain slab.
Of Porson's library, which was large and valuable, be-
tween two or three hundred volumes, enriched, as most of
his books were, with annotations by himself, were pur-
chased by Trinity College, Cambridge, for a thousand
guineas. The rest of them were sold by auction, and re-
alised over ;£iooo. Porson died in comfortable circum-
stances, leave behind him ^800 in the funds.
Porson was not an amiable man. Himself of rigid
Richard P or son. 1 3 5
and inflexible honesty, he had no toleration for pretenders
in any walk of life. A certain smatterer once observing
to him that Greek was an easy language, he sternly
replied, " Not to you, sir." Although he highly
esteemed Parr's kind-heartedness, he had a great con-
tempt for the affectation which marred his character.
When he heard that Parr in his " Remarks on Combe's
Statement " had called him a "giant in literature," he
drew back, and said, " How should he be able to take
the measure of a giant ? " When, in a large company,
Parr seized the opportunity of airing his favourite topic,
the origin of evil, by observing, " Pray, what do you
think, Mr Porson, about the introduction of moral and
physical evil into the world ? " Porson drily replied, " I
think, Doctor, we should have done very well without
them." On another occasion Parr said, " Mr Porson,
with all your learning I do not think you know much
about metaphysics." " Not of your metaphysics,
Doctor," was the withering reply — a retort worthy of
Johnson. Indeed Porson's powers of repartee were far
from inconsiderable. To a gentleman who at the close
of a fierce dispute exclaimed, " My opinion of you, sir,
is most contemptible," he replied, " I never knew an
opinion of yours that was not contemptible."
Many of his sarcastic sayings are on record. " Mr
Southey," he observed, " is indeed a wonderful writer ;
his works will be read when Homer and Virgil are for-
gotten." On hearing that a legacy had been left to
Bishop Tomline, whom he intensely hated, by a gentle-
man who had only seen him once, he said, " There would
have been no such legacy if he had seen him twice."
Being present at a book sale where Wilkes' " Characters
of Theophrastus " were put up, he remarked that it was
strange Wilkes should be a sponsor for characters, when
1 36 Great Scholars.
he had no character himself. The mutual laudations of
Hayley and Miss Seward earned his profoundest con-
tempt, which he manifested by writing for them the
following dialogue : —
Miss Seward —
Tuneful poet, Britain's glory ;
Mr Hayley, that is you.
Hayley—
Ma'am, you carry all before you ;
Trust me, Lichfield swan, you do.
Miss Seward—
Ode didactic, epic sound ;
Mr Hayley, you're divine.
Hayley—
Madam, take my oath upon it,
You yourself are all the nine.
Porson's opinions on the study of Latin and Greek
were not at all those of a pedant. " If I had a son,"
said he, " I would endeavour to make him familiar with
French and English authors rather than the classics ;
Greek and Latin are only luxuries." Modern Greek and
Latin poetry he did not at all esteem, observing that all
that is good in the composition of modern Greek is good
for nothing, for " unless such composition be a cento, it
can never be certainly correct ; and if it be a cento,
where is its value ? " When the first portion of the
Musce Etonenses came out, he exclaimed that it was
"all trash, fit only to be put behind the fire." His mis-
cellaneous reading was wide and various, extending to
all kinds of books in Greek, Latin, French, and English.
Shakespeare he studied with particular attention, and
proposed several emendations of the text.
Richard Porson. 1 3 7
One of Porson's characteristics was a surly independ-
ence, often carried to excess. Indeed, it must be ad-
mitted that in this respect he forcibly reminds one of
Savage, though otherwise far superior to that profligate,
who was somehow or other so attractive to Johnson.
Both were for the greater part of their lives more or less
indebted to charitable friends for the means of sub-
sistence, and both were only too ready to abuse their
friends at the very time they were receiving kindness
from them. " Notwithstanding the efforts which Parr
made to secure Porson a pension," says Dr Johnstone,
with too much truth, " Porson privately sneered and
jeered, and once lampooned him under the name of Dr
Bellenden." He ceased visiting Sir George Baker, who
had been one of his greatest benefactors, for no other
apparent reason than that Sir George had let fall some
words of remonstrance on the subject of Porson's irregu-
larities. He had a great dislike to being visited, or in-
vited out merely for show. " He was once dining with
Macintosh, who expressed a wish that he should accom-
pany him on the following day to a dinner at Holland
House to meet Fox. Porson made some reply that
sounded like consent ; and Macintosh, meeting Mr
Maltby next morning, told him that Porson Avas going to
Lord Holland's. Maltby, coming in contact with Porson
shortly after, observed to him, ' I hear that you are going
to dine at Holland House to-day.' ' Who told you so?'
' Macintosh.' ' But I certainly shall not go,' rejoined
Porson ; ' they invite me merely out of curiosity, and
after they have satisfied it, would like to kick me down-
stairs.' ' But, said Maltby, ' Fox is coming expressly
from St Ann's Hill to be introduced to you.' This attrac-
tion, however, was ineffective ; Porson persisted in stay-
ing away; and Lord Holland told Rogers many years
138 Great Scholars.
afterwards, that Fox had been greatly disappointed at not
meeting Porson on that occasion."* Once, when at
Cambridge, two gentlemen called on him one day at his
rooms, and said they had come to see him. Porson
made no reply, but ordered a pair of candles. When
they were brought, he said, " Now then, gentlemen, you
will be able to see me better." With equal civility he
treated two farmers from East Ruston, who, calling at
his rooms, told him that they did not like to leave the
town without seeing Mr Porson. " Well, now then,
gentlemen," said Porson, " you have seen me ; I wish
you good morning," and walked off.
* "Watson," p. 379.
SAMUEL PARR.
SAMUEL PARR.
Whatever other difficulties the writer of a biography of
Parr may have to contend with, want of materials is not
one of them. First and foremost we have the " Memoirs
of his Life and Writings," by Dr Johnstone, an octavo
volume of over eight hundred pages, with two stout
volumes of correspondence by way of appendix. Then
there is the Parriana of the redoubtable Mr E. H.
Barker, O. T. N.,* an extraordinary production, consist-
ing of two large volumes full of information not only
about Dr Parr and his friends and acquaintances, but de
omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis. Besides these two
main fountains of information, there are numerous maga-
zine and review articles, and other miscellanies of that
description, relating to him ; for in his lifetime Dr Parr
bulked largely in the public eye, and was, indeed, one of
the most prominent men of his day. Yet it is not easy to
write a sketch of Parr's life and character. An ardent
political partizan, he had to undergo the fate of all ardent
political partizans, of being extravagantly praised by his
friends and unmercifully abused by his foes, so that an
impartial writer has difficulty in holding the balance
equably between his admirers and his despisers. More-
over, some portion of the Doctor's oddity, which was
* These mysterious letters must have puzzled many who have
seen them on the title page of one of Barker's many productions.
They mean, Of Thetford, Norfolk,
H 2 Great Scholars.
great, seems to have communicated itself to his bio-
graphers — their narratives are copious when they might
well have been succinct, and succinct when they might
well have been copious ; details of Parr's private and
domestic life are sparingly given, while matters of little
interest are sometimes dealt with at unmerciful length.
However, there are always the two volumes of corre-
spondence to fall back on, which tend to elucidate some
portions of Parr's life and character better than any of
his biographers, and help to make easier the task of
furnishing a conceivable outline of the life of this puzzling
and extraordinary man.
Samuel Parr was born on 15th January 1747, at
Harrow-on-the-Hill, where his father practised as a sur-
geon and apothecary. Parr senior appears in many
ways to have resembled the subject of our memoir.
Although " the petty tyrant of his fireside," he was a
man possessed of many excellent qualities, distinguished
by the rectitude of his principles and a manly and
dignified spirit of independence, and, says Dr Johnstone,
" by a noble disregard to the accumulation of wealth."
Parr's mother was doatingly fond of her son, indulging
him in all sorts of dainties to the detriment of his health ;
but she was not long spared for him to enjoy her foster-
ing care. She died when he was about fifteen years of
age, and his father marrying again within a year, Parr
laid the foundation of an early hatred between himself
and his step-mother, by refusing to lay aside his mourn-
ing for his own mother on the day of the marriage. An
attack of small-pox, which he had about his twelfth year,
disfigured his countenance greatly. He himself used to
relate that, walking one day with Sir William Jones, who
was one of his schoolfellows, Jones suddenly stopped,
and cried out, " Parr, if you should have the good luck
Samuel Parr. 1 43
to live for forty years, you will stand a chance of over-
taking your face."
In the sixth year of his age Parr was entered at Harrow
School. Besides Sir William Jones, already mentioned,
he had for his favourite companion William Bennet, after-
wards Bishop of Cloyne, who was Parr's good genius
throughout life. The adage, that the child is father of
the man, is well exemplified in the case of Parr. His
fondness for ecclesiastical pomp and ceremony appeared
when he was only nine or ten years of age. He used to
put on one of his father's shirts as a surplice, and read the
church service to an audience consisting of his sister and
cousins ; and occasionally he would bury a dog or a
kitten with the rites of Christian burial. When he was
about nine years old, Dr Allen saw him sitting on the
churchyard gate at Harrow, looking grave and serious
while his schoolfellows were all at play. " Sam, why do
you not play with the others ? " cried Allen. " Do you
not know, sir," replied Parr with the utmost solemnity,
" that I am intended to be a parson."
At the age of fourteen Parr had attained the proud
position of head boy of the school, but, as it was his
father's intention that he should follow after his profession,
he was removed from school and placed in his father's
shop. But manifestly nature had not intended Parr for a
physician. He employed all the time he could spare in
reading the Greek and Latin authors, and doubtless paid
more attention to the Latinity of his father's prescriptions
than to their component parts. At length his father was
induced to enter him at Emmanuel College, Cambridge,
in the summer of 1765. There he had for his tutor Dr
Farmer, the famous black-letter collector, a man of such
singular indolence that he neglected even to send out his
accounts, and is believed to have lost large sums of
144 Great Scholars.
money by putting into the fire unopened letters which
contained remittances and requiring answers. While at
Cambridge, Parr was, as might be expected, a diligent
and painstaking student ; but he remained there only
fourteen months, his resources being cut off by the
sudden death of his father. On balancing his accounts
he found that his worldly wealth consisted of three
pounds seventeen shillings, most of his father's fortune
having been bequeathed to his step-mother. It has been
asserted that if Parr had been aware beforehand of pos-
sessing so considerable a sum, he would not have left
Cambridge, which he quitted with great regret. Dr
Sumner, the learned head-master of Harrow, offered him
the situation of his first assistant, which, in the circum-
stances in which he was placed, he was glad to accept.
In this position he remained for five years, discharging
his duties with assiduity and success. The only notable
event in Parr's life at this period was the death of his
cousin, Frank Parr, to whom he was greatly attached.
Though then very poor — his salary was only fifty pounds
— he cheerfully undertook, in order to make his cousin's
death-bed more comfortable, to pay all his debts, which
amounted to two hundred and twenty three pounds, and
besides this, he settled an annuity of five pounds on his
mother. That Parr was a thoroughly warm-hearted man,
many events in his life amply prove, and the letters he
wrote to his dying cousin are full of tenderness and
affection.
In 1771 Dr Sumner died, and Parr became a candi-
date for the vacant head-mastership of Harrow. He
vigorously prosecuted his candidature, but his hopes
were frustrated by the appointment of Dr Benjamin
Heath, an Etonian, and a scholar of considerable emi-
nence. This was a most bitter disappointment to Parr,
Sam tic I Parr. 1 4 5
who seems to have been pretty confident of success, and
it reacted with disastrous consequences on all his subse-
quent life — souring his temper, and making him often
suspicious and fretful without any adequate reason. The
election of Heath proved very distasteful to many of the
Harrow boys, who had been desirous that Parr should be
appointed, and a rebellion ensued. In an evil hour Parr
threw up his situation of assistant, and set up a rival
school at Stanmore, a few miles from Harrow, where
about forty of his old pupils followed him. To aid him
in establishing this seminary, some kind friends came
forward with generous pecuniary aid — Mr William Sum-
ner, in particular, a brother of the late head-master, lend-
ing him ^2000, at the nominal interest of two per cent.,
and waiting patiently for repayment during twenty-one
long years.
The Stanmore establishment was not a success. It
had its origin in a fit of blind indignation, and no one
cognizant of the circumstances could have been very
sanguine about it. Although many persons of position
and influence, among them Lord Dartmouth, counten-
anced the institution in the best way possible — by send-
ing their sons there— it dwindled gradually away. " Stan-
more," says Mr Roderick,. Parr's assistant master, "was
the very worst place where he could have fixed himself.
From the vicinity of the two places, a constant intercourse
was kept up for two or more years between the boys of
the two schools. This occasioned great irregularity.
Parr's situation was one of extreme difficulty. The
upper boys had followed him from attachment, but had
not that awe for him that they had entertained for Dr
Sumner ; and they probably conceived him under obliga-
tions to them, so that they took what liberties they
pleased. Some would go to shoot on the heath, and
146 Great Scholars.
it may be inferred from Maurice, that they sometimes
traversed the country on horseback." Moreover, the
conduct of Parr at this time was erratic in the extreme.
Mr Roderick states that he brought upon himself the
ridicule of the neighbourhood and passengers by many
foolish acts; such as riding in high prelatical pomp
through the streets on a black saddle, bearing in his
hand a long cane or wand, such as women used to have,
with an ivory head like a crosier, which was probably the
reason why he liked it ; at other times he was seen stalk-
ing through the streets in a dirty striped morning gown.
De Quincey thinks that at this period Parr really was
mad ; but surely this is putting too harsh an interpreta-
tion on his eccentricities. The two dreams of his life
were a four-in-hand and a bishopric. As neither, in
present circumstances, seemed at all within reach, Parr
had to content himself with symbols of them : the black
saddle, perchance, representing the four-in-hand, and
the " long cane with an ivory head like a crosier" repre-
senting the bishopric. Like many more of us, he found
the conflict between the real and ideal hard enough to
bear ; and if, in this way, he endeavoured to bring his
castles in the air into some sort of practical realization,
who shall blame him? We confess to viewing Parr's
eccentricities at Stanmore with a lurking kindness — they
were so genuinely characteristic of the man, and not, like
some of his subsequent freaks, mere pieces of affectation,
and, therefore, in every way detestable.
Stanmore appears to have been an unlucky place for
Parr in all directions. A wife— Miss Jane Marsingale, a
lady of an ancient Yorkshire family — was provided for him
by his friend Dr Askew, and he found that the conse-
quences of courting by proxy were far from desirable.
From the little we know of Parr's domestic life, it seems
Samuel Parr. 147
to have been anything but a happy one. Doubtless
there were faults on both sides, as, perhaps, there generally
are in such cases. Parr does not strike one as a man
one would have cared to live with, and all accounts agree
in representing his wife as a lady of violent, headstrong
temper. She described her husband, with a certain
measure of truth, as "born in a whirlwind and bred a
tyrant."
Owing to the declining state of his seminary at Stan-
more, Parr was glad to accept the mastership of an
endowed school at Colchester, where he went to reside
in 1777. When applying for the office he obtained
letters of recommendation from no less a man than Dr
Samuel Johnson, with whom he appears to have become
acquainted through the medium of Bennet Langton.
While at Colchester, he obtained priests' orders at the
hands of Bishop Lowth, and enjoyed the society and
friendship of Dr Nathaniel Forster and Thomas Twining,
the well-known translator of Aristotle's " Poetics." His
combative spirit found vent by getting into a squabble
with the trustees of the school concerning a lease ; on
which subject he printed a pamphlet, which, however, was
never published — the prudent Sir William Jones, to whom
it was submitted, constantly noting the pages as " too
violent — too strong." Dr Johnstone says : " The pam-
phlet is marked with all the peculiarities of Parr's style :
its vigour, its vehemence, its clearness, its pointed anti-
thesis, and its copious illustration and splendid imagery."
Unfortunately for Parr's reputation and his own, he pro-
ceeds to give specimens. What are we to think of the
critical sagacity of a man who looks upon schoolboy
magniloquence like the following, as characterised by
" splendid imagery ? " : —
" That day, indeed, I expected to find a day of fierce
148 Great Scholars.
contention, and therefore I had arrayed myself in a
panoply of the trustiest armour — in the breastplate of
innocence, the shield of the law, the sword of indignation,
and the helmet of intrepidity. When I first entered the
lists against these hardy combatants, I determined to
throw away the scabbard, and, firmly as I confided in the
justice of my cause, I imagined that my antagonists
would not yield me dulcem sine pulvere palmam, that they
would dispute every inch of ground with me, and at
least save their credit by retreating with their weapons
in their hands. But my expectations were altogether
disappointed. Instead of the fury of a contest we had not
even the mockery of a skirmish ; not one argument was
produced, nor one allusion was dropped upon the
offensive topic of the agreement." This may serve as a
specimen of Parr's bad style. Unfortunately for his
fame, it was the style in which he generally wrote,
especially when straining after eloquence and grandeur.
This pamphlet was not the only literary project that
engaged Parr's attention while at Colchester. The fol-
lowing letter from Sir William Jones shows that he had
also some intention of publishing a sermon. " My dear
Friend, — Your letter overtook me a few days ago, and I
am so hurried that I must answer it in very few words.
If your sermon be not likely to hurt you and your family
by giving fruitless offence to men in power, I will answer
for your reputation, and exhort you to print it with your
name ; without it, you must not expect to have the ex-
penses of publication defrayed, as few men read a book
with so unpromising a title as, 'A Sermon on the 27th
of February 1778.' I shall not be in the Temple till the
30th of April ; then I shall be wholly at your service.
You will send a copy of your discourse to me, and may
rely on my sincerity as well as on my attention ; but, in
Sanmel Parr. 149
the name of the Muses, let it be written in a legible hand,
for, to speak plainly with you, your English and Latin
characters are so ill formed that I have infinite difficulty
to read your letters, and have abandoned all hope of
deciphering many of them. Your Greek is wholly
illegible — it is perfect algebra ; and your strictures on
my Isseus, excellent and valuable as they are, have
given more fatigue to my head and eyes than the whole
translation. Half an hour in the day would be as much
time as you could employ in forming your characters ;
and you would save four times as much of your friends'
time. I will speak with the sincerity which you like :
either you can write better or you cannot ; if you can,
you ought to write better ; if not, you ought to learn. I
write this as fast as I can move my pen, yet to me it is
perfectly legible ; it should be plainer still if my pen
were better, or I were less hurried." Sir William Jones
was not the only one who complained about Parr's
handwriting. It was a constant source of annoyance to
his friends and himself. He may, indeed, claim the
" bad eminence " of having been the very worst writer
on record. The letters of his correspondents are full of
complaints about the difficulty they had in deciphering
his, letters, and contain many plaintive requests that he
would employ an amanuensis. He himself was disposed
partly to attribute the fact that he had never accom-
plished any great work, to the illegibility of his hand-
writing, which made his manuscripts a mass of unintel-
ligible hieroglyphics, useless to himself and others.
Parr's residence at Colchester was not of long dura-
tion, nor, while there, does he appear to have achieved
any great measure of success. In the summer of 1778
the head-mastership of Norwich school became vacant,
and he was appointed to the office, entering upon his
150 Great Scholars.
duties in the beginning of January 1779. Early in his
career there he received a letter of admonition from Sir
William Jones, who, although always a warm friend to
Parr, seems to have had a very accurate appreciation of
the weak points in his character. He writes : " I rejoice
that your situation is agreeable to you ; and only grieve
that you are such a distance from London. You speak
well in your letter of the Dean ; yet I have been told
that you are engaged in a controversy with him. Oh,
my friend ! remember and emulate Newton, who once
entered into a philosophical contest, but soon found, he
said, that ' he was parting with his peace of mind for
a shadow.' Surely the elegance of ancient poetry and
rhetoric, the contemplation of God's works and God's
ways, the respectable task of making boys learned and
men virtuous, may employ the forty or fifty years you
have to live more serenely, more laudably, and more
profitably than the vain warfare of controversial divinity,
and the dark mines and countermines of uncertain meta-
physics." As Dr Johnstone well observes, " these are
golden sentences;" and if Parr had always kept them in
mind, his life would have been a happier and more useful
one. But throughout his career, Parr, as has been truly
remarked, seems to have been decidedly of the opinion
of John Wesley, who said there could be no fitter subject
for a Christian man's prayers than to be delivered from
what the world calls " prudence."
At Norwich Parr first appeared before the public as an
author by the publication of three sermons, one on " The
Truth of Christianity," and the others, " A Discourse on
Education," and " A Discourse on the Late Fast." " If,"
says Dr Johnstone, " popularity be the seal of utility,
public approbation has stamped this discourse on educa-
tion as the best of Parr's works." Though written, like
Samuel Parr. 1 5 1
all his other productions, in an extremely ore rot undo
style, it certainly contains many sound and striking sen-
timents. At Norwich, also, Parr obtained his first prefer-
ment, being presented by Lady Jane Trafford, the mother
of one of his pupils, with the living of Asterby, which, in
1783, he exchanged for the perpetual curacy of Hatton
in Warwickshire. Bishop Lowth, at the request of Lord
Dartmouth, not long after this gave him a prebend in
St Paul's, which, though of trifling value at the time,
afterwards became a source of affluence to Parr. It is
sad to think that, during the greater part of his active
career, Parr felt the heavy pressure of pecuniary embar-
rassment. The following incident is related by one of
his biographers. He was one day in the library of Mr
Field, when his eye was caught by the title of Stephens'
" Greek Thesaurus." Suddenly turning about, and strik-
ing vehemently the arm of Mr Field, whom he addressed
in a manner very usual with him, he said, " Ah ! my
friend, may you never be forced, as I was at Norwich, to
sell that work, to me so precious, from absolute and
urgent necessity."
In 1785, for some unknown reason, Parr resigned the
school at' Norwich, and went to live at Hatton, where he
opened a private academy. Here occurs a favourable
opportunity for considering Dr Parr as a schoolmaster,
in which character most of his life was spent. We must
confess the Doctor strikes us as having been far from a
model preceptor. He was partial, inconsistent, and sub-
ject to sudden gusts of passion. To those of his pupils
to whom he took a fancy, he was a steady friend through-
out their whole career ; but a schoolmaster should have
no favourites, — or, at any rate, should not show that he has
any, — and should dispense even-handed justice to all. In
the euphemistic language of Dr Johnstone, " He pro-
152 Great Scholars.
fessed himself an advocate for the old and salutary dis-
cipline of our public schools. He resisted all the spe-
cious arguments which are employed in vindicating
those refinements which the partiality of parents, the in-
genuity of experimentalists, and the growing luxury of
the age have introduced into the education of youth.
He stoutly appealed to his own personal experience, and
to the established practice of our most celebrated semi-
naries, in favour of those rules which, for many ages,
have produced the best scholars, the finest writers, the
most useful members of society in private life, and the
most distinguished characters in public." In plainer
English, Dr Parr was a notorious flagellator and extremely
fond of flogging. There was a considerable spice of the
tyrant in his composition, and as circumstances restrained
him from tyrannizing over men, he had to content him-
self with tyrannizing over boys. A certain Rev. Mr
Stewart, who worshipped Parr even more than Boswell
worshipped Johnson, has the following remarks on this
subject in the Parriana : "Two of our present prelates,
I believe, were at one time his pupils. One, at least, I
am sure was. Parr used to exult in the narrative of the
sound birchings he had conferred on him, rehearse it
with his hands, and chuckle during the rehearsal. This
very circumstance augurs well of the pupil's merit. While
Parr wielded the ferule, his invariable rule was, never to
punish lads of stunted capacity, nor try to extort from
mediocrity of talent treasures which nature had not been
prodigal enough to bestow. No, the really talented he
attacked — to those, nature had been bountiful — and re-
solute Parr was to make her gifts be cultivated. There
is a distinguished divine of the day, justly respected for
his attainments and merits, who was mainly indebted to
Parr's instructions for his celebrity. For some time
Samuel Parr. 1 53
after he entered the seminary over which the great
scholar ruled, the lad was classed as a ' mediocre ; ' and
enjoyed in consequence the comparative amnesty ex-
tended to that grade. It happened, however, that one
evening, after school hours, the head assistant called to
acquaint Parr with the momentous discovery that ' from
some recent observations he was led to conclude
was a lad of genius.' ' Say you so ? ' roared out Parr
in one of his delighted chuckles, ' then begin to flog to-
morrow morning.' The distinctive birch was, I learn,
not forgotten. The eclipse of genius speedily wore off."
Certainly anecdotes like these do not tend to raise Parr
in one's estimation ; however, things have changed since
then, and perhaps Parr's ideas of scholastic discipline
were substantially the universally received ones at that
time. One great qualification as a teacher Parr is ad-
mitted on all hands to have possessed ; he was a sound
and careful scholar, with a genuine enthusiasm for clas-
sical learning, which cannot have failed to prove con-
tagious.
Parr went to reside at Hatton in 1786, and, except on
a visit, never afterwards left it. At first the place pleased
him much. " I have," he says, in a letter to a friend,
" good neighbours, and a Poor, ignorant, dissolute, in-
solent and ungrateful beyond all example. I like War-
wickshire very much. I have made great regulations,
viz. : bells chime three times as long, Athanasian creed,
communion service at the altar, swearing act, children
catechised first Sunday in the month, private baptisms
discouraged, public performed after second lesson, re-
covered a £100 a-year left to the poor, with interest
amounting to .£115, all of which I am to put out and
settle a trust in the spring, examining all the charities."
When, however, the novelty of his situation wore off he
154 Great Scholars.
did not find it so desirable, and even went so far as to
characterise Warwickshire as the Bceotia of England, two
centuries behind in civilization. Being a man of exceed-
ingly active mind, he endeavoured to be placed in the
commission of peace for the county of Warwick, but his
application was unsuccessful. In 1795 ^ e ma de a similar
application to Lord Warwick, and asked the reason why
his name was omitted in so large a nomination of justices
of the peace. His lordship's reply is a model in its
way : —
" Sir, — I apprehend that the proper answer to the
letter which I have just received from you is, that I do
not consider myself as responsible to any individual for
the motive of my conduct while acting in the discharge
of my public duty."
Why his applications were so persistently refused, does
not exactly appear. " Perhaps," it has been said with
considerable truth, " they were afraid that the great
scholar would have dogmatized on the bench till he had
disgusted his colleagues, and passed sentence on the
culprit till he had spoiled their dinner ; that he would have
condemned the laws when he was only called upon to
administer them, and scrutinized the conduct of the con-
stable with as much severity as that of the thief ; that he
would have been debating when he should have been
passing the accounts, and have impeded all decisions by
showing how much might be said against any ; that he
would have looked upon a poacher with too much lenity,
and.^a rioter for Church and King with too much wrath ;
that he would have found in every pauper who appealed
to him a victim, and in every overseer a tyrant ; that
whilst his brother justices could see no signs of grace in
a culprit, from the evidence against him, he would have
discovered virtue in his looks, and would have peremp-
Samuel Parr. 1 5 5
torily pronounced, that ' if that man be lewdly given, he
deceived him.' If any or all of those doubts crossed the
mind of the Lord Lieutenant, we confess we do -not think
they would have been wholly groundless."
In 1787 appeared one of the most famous of Parr's
productions, the Preface to a new edition of " Bellenden."
William Bellenden, a Scotch writer who flourished about
the beginning of the seventeenth century, conceived the
idea of a work, " De Tribus Luminibus Romanorum," in
which he designed to explain the character and merits of
Cicero, and, it is supposed, of Seneca and the elder Pliny,
for he only lived to finish the first of these worthies.
Taking up the parable, Parr reprinted a work of Bellen-
den, " De Statu Prisci Orbis," with a long Latin preface
on the " Three Lights of Britain," Lord North, Fox, and
Burke. This forms one of the most successful modern
imitations of Cicero's style, and raised Parr's fame as a
scholar considerably. The absurdity, however, of writing
an essay on the politics of the day in Latin, and prefixing
it to an edition of such a writer as Bellenden, is too
obvious to require comment. The excellence of the
Latinity of the preface constituted its main claim to
attention. Parr was an extremely rash and violent poli-
tician, praising his friends and abusing his enemies with
equal extravagance. Two of the Lights appear to have
returned him no thanks for all the laudations with which
they were bespattered. Burke, however, with his usual
courtesy, wrote Parr a pretty long letter, for the most
part avoiding all reference to politics, but discoursing
eloquently upon the advantages of classical learning.
What Parr himself thought of the manner in which he
had executed his task may be gathered from the follow-
ing ludicrous effusion to his friend Homer, which may
serve as a specimen of many of the kind. He was never
156 Great Scholars.
the man to hesitate to blow his own trumpet when occa-
sion required : —
" Dear Sir, — What will you say ? or, rather, what will
I say myself of myself? It is now ten o'clock at night,
and I am smoking a quiet pipe, after a most vehement
and, I think, a most splendid effort of composition ; an
effort it was indeed, a mighty and a glorious effort — for
the object of it is to lift up Burke to the pinnacle where
he ought to have been placed before, and to drag
down Lord Chatham from that eminence to which the
cowardice of his hearers and the credulity of the public
had most weakly exalted the impostor and the father of
impostors ! Read it, dear Harry — read it, I say, aloud ;
read it again and again ; and when your tongue has
turned its edge from me to the father of Mr Pitt — when
your ears tingle and ring with my sonorous periods —
when your heart glows and beats with the fond and
triumphant remembrance of Edmund Burke — then, dear
Homer, you will forgive me, you will love me, you will
congratulate me, and readily will you take upon yourself
the trouble of printing what in writing has cost me so
much greater though not much longer trouble. Old boy,
I tell you that no part of the preface is better conceived,
or better written ; none will be read more eagerly, or felt
by those whom you wish to feel it, more severely. Old
boy, old boy, it's a stinger ! And now to other business."
We now come to a very curious piece of literary his-
tory, of which, however, only the leading details can be
given here. Among Parr's many friends was Dr White
of Oxford, who had been appointed to deliver the Bamp-
ton Lectures. He applied to Dr Parr for help in this
task, which was cheerfully given and gratefully acknow-
ledged. The lectures when delivered were received with
great applause, and White seemed to be on the high road
Samuel Parr. 1 5 7
to fame and fortune. But Parr was not the only one
from whom he had enjoyed the benefit of assistance.
He had also, unknown to Parr, employed the Rev. Mr
Badcock, a learned dissenting minister in Devonshire,
and had given him a note for ^500 for his trouble. On
Mr Badcock's death, which occurred in 1788, this note
was found in his pocket. Dr Gabriel of Bath, a friend of
Mr Badcock's, had an interview with White on the sub-
ject of this note, but did not come to any satisfactory
conclusion on the subject. Eventually White accused
Gabriel of being in league with Badcock's sister to pick
his pocket. Gabriel, being naturally indignant at this,
threatened to bring the whole transaction before the
University unless White apologised. White did not
apologise, and Gabriel was as good as his word. When
the news of Badcock's co-operation reached Parr he
refused to believe it, and finally told it as a secret to Mr
Smyth of Pembroke College, that it was himself who
gave White the assistance. Gradually the whole affair
oozed out, and White stood convicted of the utmost
treachery and duplicity. Parr's share of the lecture
amounted to about one-fifth. An amusing part of the
business is the change that occurs in the tone of White's
letters to Parr after his perfidy had been discovered.
" From the moment of detection the Professor threw off
the mask of being Parr's gratefully obliged servant, and
it was with difficulty that any answer could be extracted
from him." Perhaps the most curious thing about the
whole affair is, that it does not appear to have materially
injured White's reputation. " Notwithstanding," says
Dr Johnstone, "this full conviction of his having re-
ceived the most important literary assistance without any
acknowledgment of it, and even after the publication of
the two pamphlets, White's character was still supported
158 Great Scholars.
by some persons of great name in the University of
Oxford ; and the Government thought so highly of his
talents, and so little of his detection, that they awarded
him with a canonry of Christ Church, which Parr had
vainly solicited for him in the foregoing memorial, when
the Professor's character was yet without impeachment."
The quiet duties of pastor and teacher incumbent on
him at Hatton did not by any means satisfy Parr's rest-
less nature. To him the troubled waters of controversy
possessed an irresistible attraction ; no sooner was he
done with one dispute than he eagerly entered on
another. In 1788 Bishop Hurd published a new edition
of Warburton's works, leaving out certain juvenile tracts
and translations as unworthy of the matured talents of so
great a man ; and, instead of a " Life," promising one to
the purchasers of his works. Parr immediately seized
hold of these omissions as pretexts for literary warfare.
Under the title of " Tracts by Warburton and a War-
burtonian," he republished the tracts Hurd had omitted,
along with two pamphlets, " The Delicacy of Friendship"
and the " Letter to Leland," which Hurd had written
long ago, and which he had shown himself anxious to
suppress. To these he added a preface and dedication
in which Hurd is attacked with all the fury and venom
Parr was master of. The inquiry naturally arises : How
did Parr come to regard Hurd with such intense ani-
mosity ? The answer is not far to seek. Here it is : —
" Dr Parr went to Hartlebury (Hurd's residence). He
was treated coldly, not even a repast was offered him.
He probably, during the effervescence of his rage, re-
collected the " Delicacy of Friendship," which he had
caused to be copied at Norwich, and perhaps he did not
forget the sneer concerning the long vernacular sermons
at Whitehall ; and his fancy, under such influence, would
Samuel Parr. 1 59
naturally conjure up a phantom in the shape of Bishop
Hurd which had marched across the high road of his
interests, and had blighted the prospects of his prefer-
ment."
As the style of the Preface has been much praised —
Warton is reported to have said that, if called upon
to point out some of the finest sentences in English prose,
he would quote from it — and as this praise is not
unmerited, the following extract from it, containing a
tribute to the memory of Warburton and Johnson, will
afford a favourable specimen of Parr's powers as an
English writer. An example of Parr's bad style has
already been given ; what follows, though rather verbose
and magniloquent, is not without power : —
" Few men have made a more conspicuous figure than
Warburton upon the great theatre of learning ; few have
been engaged in more bustling and splendid scenes ; few
have sustained more difficult or more interesting characters.
It is therefore to be lamented that the public have not
yet been favoured with a regular and impartial account of
his progress in knowledge ; of his advancement in the
church ; of the embarrassments with which he struggled,
and over which he triumphed ; of the connections which
he formed ; of the provocations by which he was
harassed ; and especially of the opinions which, in the
cooler and more serious reflections of his old age, he
really entertained of all his own hardier exertions made
in the vigour of his youth. But whatever materials for
the history of his life may be in the hands of his
executors, and whatever may be the ability of those who
shall have the courage to use them, his character will
never be drawn with more justness of design or more
strength of colouring than have been already employed
by the great biographer of the English poets. The dawn of
160 Great Scholars.
Warburton's fame was overspread with many clouds,
which the native force of his mind quickly dispelled.
Soon after his emersion from them he was honoured by
the friendship of Pope, and the enmity of Bolingbroke.
In the fulness of his meridian glory he was courted
by Lord Hardwick and Lord Mansfield ; and his setting
lustre was viewed with nobler feelings than those of mere
forgiveness by the amiable and venerable Bishop Lowth.
Halifax revered him, Balguy loved him ; and in two
immortal works Johnson has stood forth in the foremost
rank of his admirers. By the testimony of such a man
impertinence must be abashed, and malignity itself must
be softened. Of literary merit, Johnson, as we all know,
was a sagacious but a most severe judge. Such was his
discernment, that he pierced into the most secret springs
of human action ; and such was his integrity, that
he always weighed the moral character of his fellow-
creatures in the balance of the sanctuary. He was too
courageous to propitiate a rival, and too proud to truckle
to a superior. Warburton he knew as I knew him, and
as every man of sense and virtue would wish to be
known : I mean both from his writings, and from the
writings of those who dissented from his principles, or
who envied his reputation. But as to favours, he had
never received or asked any from the Bishop of Glouces-
ter ; and, if my memory fails me not, he had seen him
only once, when they met almost without design, con-
versed without much effort, and parted without any
lasting expression of hatred or affection. Yet, with all
the ardour of sympathetic genius, Johnson has done that
spontaneously and ably which by some writers had been
before attempted injudiciously, and which by others, from
whom more successful attempts might have been ex-
pected, has not hitherto been done at all. He spoke
Samuel Parr. 1 6 1
well of Warburton without insulting those whom War-
burton despised. He suppressed not the imperfections
of this extraordinary man, while he endeavoured to
do justice to his numerous and transcendental ex-
cellencies. He defended him when living, amidst the
clamours of his enemies, and praised him when dead,
amid the silence of his friends. I have stated these
facts, not with any abject view of palliating the censures
which I may have passed upon Warburton's failings, nor
yet from any vain confidence in my abilities to exalt his
character, but in obedience to the warm and fervent
dictates of my own mind, — of a mind which he has often
enlightened, often enchanted, and, in some degree, I
would hope, improved."
Though Parr attacked Hurd with a pitiless storm
of detraction in the Preface, that he had really a high
opinion of him is sufficiently evident from the following
conversation which took place between the Prince of
Wales and Dr Parr, at the table of the Duke of Norfolk,
in the presence of Mr Fox, Mr Sheridan, Lord Erskine,
and a large party of distinguished persons. Since, as De
Quincey says, disputing with a Prince of Wales is some-
thing rarer even than waltzing with a Lord Chancellor or
smoking a cigar with the Pope, the discussion may not
be uninteresting. The name of the Archbishop of York,
who was then in a declining state of health, having been
alluded to, the Prince observed : " I esteem Markham
a much wiser, greater, and more learned man than Hurd,
and you will allow me to be a judge, for they were both
my preceptors." " Sir," said Parr, " is it your Royal
Highness' pleasure that I should enter upon the topic of
their comparative merits as a subject of discussion?"
" Yes," said the Prince. " Then, sir," said Parr, " I
differ entirely from your Royal Highness in opinion."
162 Great Scholars.
" As I knew them both so intimately," replied the Prince,
" you will not deny that I had the power of more
accurately appreciating their respective merits than you
can have had. In their manner of teaching you may
judge of my estimation of Markham's superiority — his
natural dignity and authority, compared with the Bishop
of Worcester's smoothness and softness, and I now add,
with proper submission to your authority on such a
subject, his experience as a schoolmaster, and his better
scholarship." " Sir," said Parr, " your Royal Highness
began this conversation, and if you permit it to go on,
must tolerate a very different inference." "Go on,"
said the Prince, " I declare that Markham understood
Greek better than Hurd ; for when I read Homer and
hesitated about a word, Markham immediately explained
it, and then we went on ; but when I hesitated with
Hurd, he always referred me to the Dictionary ; I there-
fore conclude he wanted to be informed himself." " Sir,"
replied Parr, " I venture to differ from your Royal
Highness' conclusion. I am myself a schoolmaster, and
I think that Dr Hurd pursued the right method, and that
Dr Markham failed in his duty. Hurd desired your
Royal Highness to find the word in the lexicon, not
because he did not know it, but because he wished you
to find by search, and learn it thoroughly. Dr Hurd was
not eminent as a scholar, but it is not likely that he
would have presumed to teach your Royal Highness
without knowing the lesson himself." " Have you
changed your opinion of Dr Hurd?" exclaimed the
Prince ; " I have read a work in which you attacked him
fiercely." " Yes, sir, 1 attacked him on one point, which
I thought important to letters ; and I summoned the
whole force of my mind, and took every possible pains to
do it well, for I consider Hurd to be a great man. He
Samuel Parr. 1 63
is celebrated as such by foreign critics, who appreciate
justly his wonderful acuteness, sagacity, and dexterity in
doing what he has done with so small a stock of learning.
There is no comparison, in my opinion, between Mark-
ham and Hurd as men of talents. Markham was a
pompous schoolmaster. Hurd was a stiff and cold, but
correct gentleman. Markham was at the head of a great
school, then of a great college, and finally became an
Archbishop. In all these stations he had trumpeters of
his fame who called him great, though he published one
Concio only, which has already sunk into oblivion.
From a farm-house and village school, Hurd emerged
the friend of Gray, and a circle of distinguished men.
While fellow of a small college he sent out works praised
by foreign critics, and not despised by our own scholars.
He enriched his understanding by study, and sent from the
obscurity of a country village a book, sir, which your
royal father is said to have declared made him a bishop.
He made himself unpopular in his own profession by i
defence of a fantastical system. He had decriers — he had
no trumpeters ; he was great in and by himself ; and,
perhaps, sir, a portion of that power and adroitness you
have manifested in this debate may have been owing to
him." Fox, when the Prince was gone, exclaimed in his
high tone of voice, " He thought he had caught you, but
he caught a Tartar."
When the troublous period of the French Revolution
came on, Parr, as might be expected, took a warm in-
terest in its progress, and, though condemning the ex-
cesses of its promoters, was not without considerable
sympathy for the movement. At the time of the famous
Birmingham riots in 1791, his house was threatened, and
his library was removed from his house, in his absence,
by Mrs Parr, to save it from fancied dangers. Parr
1 64 Great Scholars.
cordially detested the " Church and King " party as they
called themselves. Once when this toast was proposed
at a public dinner, he exclaimed : " I will not drink that
toast, nor will I suffer it to be given in my presence. It
was the toast of Jacobites, and it is the yell of incen-
diaries ; it means a Church without the Gospel, and a
King above the laws." Parr's conduct during the whole
revolutionary crisis was marked by a moderation and
prudence very rare in him. Hearing that the Dissenters
of Birmingham, in 1792, were meditating a meeting in
commemoration of the French Revolution, similar to
that which had provoked the riots of the previous year,
he wrote " A letter from Irenopolis to the Dissenters of
Birmingham," dissuading them from their purpose. This
tractate, which was written in a day, in six and a half
hours, is one of the best and most judicious of Parr's
writings. He had not time to overlay it with meretricious
n anient ; hence it happily wants the verbosity and
magniloquence of which he was so foolishly fond.
The most pleasing feature in Parr's life is his thorough
good-heartedness, his readiness to assist all those who
needed assistance, worthy or unworthy; the closeness
with which he clung to those to whom he was attached,
through evil report and through good report. A striking
example of this is afforded by his conduct towards Joseph
Gerrald, a former pupil of his. Gerrald, a West Indian,
after a strange and tumultuous career, joined the British
convention in 1793, and was unanimously found guilty
of sedition by a Scotch jury in 1794. In spite of all the
efforts made in his behalf by his friends, he was sentenced
to fourteen years' transportation. When on shipboard he
received the following tender-hearted letter from Parr.
Many more of the same kind might be quoted, and no
one can read such letters of Parr without understanding
Sam uel Parr. 165
partly why it was that, in spite of all his harshness and
eccentricity, he attracted to himself such troops of friends
who loved and reverenced him : —
" Dear Joseph, — I hear with indignation and horror
that the severe sentence lately passed upon you in Scot-
land is shortly to be carried into execution \ and remem-
bering that I was once your master, that I have long
been your friend, that I am your fellow-creature, made
so by the hand of God — and that by every law of that
religion, in the belief of which I hope to live and die, I
ought to be your comforter — now, dear Joseph, I am for
the last time writing to you. Oh ! my friend, at this
moment my heart sinks within me ; and with a wish to
say ten thousand things, I am hardly able to say one.
But you shall not leave this land without one affectionate,
one sincere, one solemn farewell. Joseph, before we
meet again that bosom which now throbs for you, that
tongue which dictates, will be laid in the cold grave.
Be it so. Yet, my dear friend, I must cherish the hope
that death is not the end of such a being as man. No
Joseph, no, there is a moral government going on, and
in the course of it our afflictions will cease, and com-
pensation will be made us, I trust, for all our unmerited
sufferings. There is another world and a better ; and in
that world I pray God that I may see your face again.
Bear up, I beseech you, against the hard and cruel
oppression which the evil spirit of these days and your
own want of discretion have brought upon you. Macin-
tosh has informed me of that which is about to happen,
and I have done all that I can in your favour. Let me
conjure you, dear Joseph, to conduct yourself not only
with firmness, but with calmness. Do not, do not, by
turbulence in conversation or action, give your enemies
occasion to make the cup of misery more bitter. Reflect
1 66 Great Scholars.
seriously on your past life, and review many of the
opinions which you have unfortunately taken up, and
which you know, from experience, have little tended to
make you a happier or a better man. I do not mean,
Joseph, to reproach you ; no, such an intention, at such
a crisis, is, and ought to be, very far from my heart ; but I
do mean to advise you, and excite you to such a use of
your talents as may console you under the sorrows of
this life, and prepare you effectually for what is to follow.
I will send you a few books in addition to other matters ;
they will cheer you in the dreary hours you have to pass
in that forlorn spot to which the inhuman governors of
this land are about to send you.
" Some time ago I saw your dear boy, and depend
upon it that, for his sake and your own, I will show him
every kindness in my power. I shall often think of you ;
yes, Joseph, and there are moments too in which I shall
pray for you. Farewell, dear Joseph Gerrald, and believe
me, your most unfeigned and afflicted friend, — S. Parr."
The year 1795 beholds Dr Parr once more engaged
in controversy. In 1791 died his faithful friend
Henry Homer. Along with Dr Combe, he had been
engaged in editing a variorum edition of "Horace," in the
preparation of which he received a considerable amount
of assistance from Parr. The book was completed by
Combe, and published after Homer's death. When it
came out the public were informed, by a memorandum in
the " British Critic," that Dr Parr had no hand in the
notes to the new edition. Then followed in the same
journal a series of severe animadversions upon the work.
Combe, not unnaturally indignant at this treatment from
Parr, who had before encouraged him in his task, pub-
lished in reply a pamphlet entitled " A Statement of the
Facts relative to the Behaviour of the Rev. Dr Parr to
Samuel Pan'. 167
the late Mr Homer and Dr Combe, in order to point out
the source, falsehood, and malignity of Dr Parr's attack
in the ' British Critic ' on the character of Dr Combe,"
in which he accuses Parr, among other things, of in-
humanity to Homer, and attention to his own pocket.
These charges, as might be expected, Parr conclusively
refuted in a pamphlet entitled " Remarks on the State-
ment of Dr Charles Combe, by an occasional writer in
the ' British Critic' " Yet his conduct in writing as he
did about an edition of " Horace " which he had certainly
encouraged at the outset, does not appear to be justi-
fiable, and Combe had good reason for complaint,
although he weakened his case by resorting to false
accusations. What was Parr's motive for acting as he
did in this matter does not seem very evident. Probably
he thought he had not been courted with sufficient defer-
ence by Combe. This appears pretty certain from the
following passage : — " While we commend Dr Combe
for what he has done in the way of dedication, we must
not conceal from our readers what Mr Homer intended
to do. If that judicious and diligent scholar had been
living, the illustrious names of Mr Wyndham and Mr
Burke would have adorned this page, in which we now
find the venerable name of Lord Mansfield ; and the
dedication would have been written by a person the
whole force of whose mind would have been exerted
upon such an occasion, and whose advice, during the
earlier stages of this publication, was repeatedly asked
and generally followed by Mr Henry Homer."
1796 is a year which Parr must have looked back to
with little pleasure. With many other men of eminence,
he was then completely hoaxed by the famous Ireland for-
geries. He was the first to sign the famous confession
of faith, that " We, whose names are hereunto subscribed,
1 68 Great Scholars.
have, in the presence and by the favour of Mr Ireland,
inspected the Shakespeare Papers, and are convinced of
their authenticity." Among those who signed were Valpy,
Pye the poet laureate, and James Boswell, who, on his
arrival at Ireland's house, continued his examination of
the papers for a considerable time, constantly speaking
in favour of the internal as well as external proofs of the
validity of the manuscripts. " At length, finding himself
rather thirsty, he requested a tumbler of warm brandy
and water; which, having nearly finished, he then re-
doubled his praises of the manuscripts ; and at length,
arising from his chair, made use of the following expres-
sion : ' Well, I shall now die contented, since I have
lived to witness the present day/ Mr Boswell, then
kneeling down before a volume containing a portion of
the papers, continued : ' I now kiss the invaluable relics
of our bard, and thanks to God that I have lived to see
them ! ' " Equally ridiculous was the behaviour of War-
ton and Parr about " Shakespeare's Profession of Faith," a
whining ridiculous rhapsody composed by Ireland. From
Ireland's confession the following extracts are given by
Barker. Literary history affords few more amusing pas-
sages. " Of the persons who visited Mr Samuel Ireland
when the manuscripts were not very voluminous, Dr
Warton and Parr were among the most conspicuous.
On their arrival Mr Ireland was alone in his study to
receive them ; but, by the desire of the visitants, I was
shortly after summoned before them to answer interroga-
tories. I confess I had never before felt so much terror,
and would almost have bartered my life to evade ^the
meeting. There was, however, no alternative, and I was
under the necessity of appearing before them. Having
replied to their several questionings as to the discovery
of the manuscripts and the secretion of the gentleman's
Sa m ziel Pa rr. 1 6 9
name, one of these two inspectors of the manuscripts
addressed me, saying, ' Well, young man, the public will
have just cause to admire you for the research you have
made, which will afford so much gratification to the
literary world.' To this panegyric I bowed my head
and remained silent.
" While Mr Ireland read aloud the Profession of Faith,
Drs Parr and Warton remained silent, paying infinite
attention to every syllable that was pronounced ; while I
continued immovable, awaiting to hear their dreaded
opinion. This effusion being ended, one of the above
gentlemen (whom, as far as my recollection can recal
the circumstance, I believe to have been Dr Parr), thus
addressed himself to Mr Ireland, ' Sir, we have very fine
passages in our Church service, and our Liturgy abounds
with beauties ; but here, Sir, here is a man who has dis-
tanced us all.' When I heard these words pronounced I
could scarcely credit my own senses ; and such was the
effect they produced on me, that I knew not whether to
smile or not. I was, however, very forcibly struck with
the encomium ; and shortly after left the study, ruminat-
ing on the praise which had been unconsciously lavished
by a person so avowedly erudite, on the unstudied pro-
duction of one so green in years as myself."
As was natural, Parr was much ashamed of his con-
duct in this matter afterwards. In his " Bibliotheca
Parriana " he speaks of the volume containing the forged
papers as " a great and impudent forgery," adding, " Ire-
land told a lie when he imputed to me the very words
which Joseph Warton used the morning I called on Ire-
land, and was inclined to admit the possibility of genu-
ineness in his papers. In my subsequent conversation I
told him my change of opinion. But I thought it not
worth while to dispute in print with a detected impostor."
[ 70 Great Scholars.
It seems pretty evident, however, from collateral circum-
stances, that Ireland's account is substantially correct.
In 1800 Dr Parr was appointed to preach the Spital
Sermon. One cannot but be sorry for the Court of
Aldermen who were compelled to listen for two hours to
a discourse on the metaphysics of benevolence. No
wonder though we are told that they were " not quite
exempt from some manifestations of restlessness." The
sermon when printed, consisted of fifty-one large octavo
pages, and to it were added two hundred and twelve
pages of notes !
The Spital Sermon is perhaps better known, by name
at any rate, than any of Parr's works, owing to the fact
that it forms the subject of Sydney Smith's first article in
the Edinburgh Review. This article is as clever and
caustic as any of Sydney Smith's writings ; but it is not
only clever and caustic — in our opinion it conveys
a thoroughly accurate notion of the work reviewed.
" Whoever," he writes, " has had the good fortune to see
Dr Parr's wig, must have observed that while it trespasses
a little on the orthodox magnitude of perukes in the in
terior parts, it scorns even Episcopal limits behind, and
swells out into boundless convexity of friz, the tiiya-
6aufia of barbers, and the terror of the literary world.
After the manner of his wig, the Doctor has constructed
his sermon, giving us a discourse of no common length,
and subjoining an immeasurable mass of notes, which
appear to concern every learned thing, every learned
man, and almost every unlearned man from the begin-
ning of the world." What he says about the style of the
sermon applies with almost equal force to all Parr's
writings. " The style is such as to give a general impres-
sion'of heaviness to the whole sermon. The Doctor is
never simple and natural for a single instant. Every-
Samuel Parr. 1 7 1
thing smells of the rhetorician. He never appears to
forget himself or to be hurried by his subject into obvi-
ous language. Every expression seems to be the result
of artifice and intention ; and as to the worthy dedicatees,
the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, unless the sermon be
done into English by a person of honour, they may per-
haps be flattered by the Doctor's politeness, but they can
never be much edified by his meaning. Dr Parr seems
to think that eloquence consists, not in an exuberance
of beautiful images, not in simple and sublime concep-
tions, not in the feelings of the passions ; but in a stu-
dious arrangement of sonorous, exotic, and sesquipedal
words : a very ancient error, which corrupts the style of
young, and wearies the patience of sensible men. In
some of his combinations of words the Doctor is singu-
larly unhappy. We have the din of superficial cavillers,
the prancings of giddy ostentation, fluttering vanity, hiss-
ing scorn, dank clod, etc., etc., etc. On page 16, Dr
Parr, in speaking of the indentures of the hospital, a
subject, as we should have thought, little calculated for
rhetorical panegyric, says of them : — ' If the writer of
whom I am speaking had perused, as I have, your inden-
tures and your rules, he would have found in them serious-
ness without austerity, earnestness without extravagance,
good sense without the trickeries of art, good language
without the trappings of rhetoric, and the firmness
of conscious worth rather than the prancings of giddy
ostentation.'
" The latter member of this eloge would not be wholly
unintelligible if applied to a spirited coach horse ; but
we have never yet witnessed the phenomenon of a
prancing indenture."
Nowhere is the extent of Parr's erudition so clearly
shown as in the notes to the " Spital Sermon ; " it is no
172 Great Scholars.
exaggeration when Sydney Smith says that they relate to
almost every learned thing and every learned man from
the beginning of the world. The preface to " Bellenden,"
indeed, is a more convincing proof of his thorough
mastery over Latin Idiom, but it gives no idea of the
compass of his learning. Whatever else the opponents
of Parr in his lifetime alleged against him, none ever cast
a slur upon his scholarship ; he was universally acknow-
ledged to be an extremely erudite man. Even Sydney
Smith calls him " by far the most learned man of his
day," and this, too, at a time when, be it remembered,
Porson's reputation was at its height. Yet Parr has left
no work behind him at all comparable to Porson's
labours on the text of Euripides. The "Four Plays"
were an era in the history of scholarship ; it may be
greatly doubted whether Parr ever made any original
contribution to the sum of classical learning, A laborious
and painstaking scholar he unquestionably was, he had
dug deep in the mines of classical learning, he had pored
over musty folios and moth-eaten manuscripts ; what had
been done by other scholars he knew well, and could,
when he chose, retail it very effectively, but he was not
an original scholar any more than he was an original
thinker — in short, he had not that genius for scholarship
of which both Bentley and Porson possessed so much,
he had not that fine critical instinct which cannot be
attained save by laborious study, but which, nevertheless,
no amount of study can produce. His erudition, such
as it was, is scattered through the notes to his numerous
works and his letters to his friends, so that it can with
difficulty be ascertained what he actually did accomplish.
If he had devoted himself to some great work, if, for
example, instead of showing how badly an edition of
Horace had been done, he had himself published an
Samuel Parr. 173
edition of Horace, he might have left some enduring
memorial of his scholarship behind him. As it is, his
fame as a scholar is being rapidly forgotten. Indeed,
till one has read a good deal about Parr, and has ob-
served how wide and influential his range of acquaintances
was, one has some difficulty in realising what way it was
that his reputation as a man of learning was so wide-
spread in his lifetime.
Parr's own estimate of his scholarship was of the
highest. " Shepherd," he said to one of his friends,
" the age of great scholars is past. I am the only one
now remaining of that race of men who could sit down
with pleasure to devour a folio." He admitted Porson's
superiority to himself in the knowledge of Attic Greek,
but of Attic Greek only. " Porson," he once observed
to a friend with whom he was out riding, " has more
Greek, but no man's horse, John, carries more Latin
than mine." In this opinion he was probably correct. De
Quincey, whose estimate of Parr is by far too disparag-
ing, is constrained to admit that, as a master of Latinity,
and pretty generally as a Latin scholar, Parr was the first
man of his century. Nowhere did he show his powers
of tasteful Latin composition more than in his epitaphs.
By sorrowing friends he was very often applied to for
his services in this way, and rarely was any application
declined. To this subject he appears to have devoted
attention from a very early period, and throughout all
his life it continued one of his favourite studies. " You
know, Edward," he writes to Maltby, " that my taste com-
pels me to disapprove of the rhetorical and pompous
style in which modern epitaphs are written ; and it is no
less provoking than true, that in Westminster Abbey I
do not know one inscription that is founded upon the
models of antiquity ; and even in Oxford I have met
174 Great Scholars.
only with one which resembles them. In the Abbey,
there are a few attempts at conciseness, but then it is
conciseness without simplicity, and there is an apparent
offensive effort to grasp some vast and pompous thought
into a small compass of expression. What ought to be
done in Latin by us is known to me, after a careful per-
usal of what has been done by the ancients ; and my
opinions are founded upon a diligent and critical inspec-
tion of what has been published by Sponius, &c, &c."
Having studied the subject so deeply he had a calm
confidence in the soundness of his own judgment on
questions relating to it, and bore with impatience the
criticisms to which his epitaphs were sometimes sub-
jected. He has had one appreciative critic at all events.
De Quincey devotes several pages to the consideration
of Parr's epitaphs, concluding with the following eulo-
gium :— " These great laws of feeling in this difficult and
delicate department of composition, are obeyed with
more rigour in the epitaphs of Dr Parr than perhaps
anywhere else. He was himself too deeply sensible of
human frailty, and he looked up to a moral governor of
the world with reverence too habitual, to have allowed
himself in rash or intemperate thoughts, when brought
upon any ground so nearly allied to his sacred functions.
And, with regard to the expressions of his thoughts,
except to the extent of a single word, as for instance,
velificari, in which the metaphorical application has
almost obliterated the original meaning — we remember
nothing figurative, nothing too gay, nothing luxuriant —
all is chaste, all classical, all suited to the solemnity of
the case. Had Dr Parr, therefore, written under the
additional restraints of verse, and had he oftener
achieved a distinguished success in the pathetic, as
an artist in Monumental Inscriptions, we must have
been compelled to place him in the very highest class."
Samuel Parr. 1 75
Dr Parr's last literary work of importance was " Char-
acters of the late Charles James Fox, selected and in
part written by Philopatris Varvicensis," which appeared
in 1809. This work consists of extracts relating to Mr
Fox, selected from various public journals, along with an
epistle addressed to Mr Coke by the editor, containing a
eulogium on the character of that great statesman. " I
have not," Parr writes in a letter to a friend, " written the life
of Mr Fox, I say nothing of his parentage, education,
or connections ; nor do I enter into any detail of his
measures. But I have laid open his mind. I have
selected the best characters written of him after his death,
and then comes my own view of him, which as you will
readily believe, is copious, discriminating, and animated.
I have thrown some of the matter into the more con-
venient form of notes. I have added two notes, which
are not sufficient to form a pamphlet. One is upon a
subject most important in itself, and which becomes more
pertinent on this occasion, as it is the last on which I
had any serious conversation with Mr Fox. The other
contains an elaborate and grave vindication of his
memory from a malicious insinuation that he was an
advocate for the assassination of European sovereigns,
and an open charge that he was a relentless bigot in the
cause of infidelity." Fox, whose amiable character made
him loved by all who knew him, had always been a warm
friend to Parr, and it is probable that if the Government
of which he was a member had continued long in power,
he would have made him a bishop. At any rate this
was Parr's own opinion, and perhaps he may have been
right, but there is no doubt but that from various causes
he was extremely unpopular with his own order, and that
any Government which had promoted him to such high
ecclesiastical dignity, would have incurred a great deal of
1 7 6 Great Scholars.
clerical odium. Parr in a very marked degree was what
Cobbet called " a political parson." To Whig principles
he was always a steady and extremely bigoted adherent,
although, strange to say, his father had been a vehement
Tory. We have seen that his first great work, the Pre-
face to Bellenden, was a eulogium on the great Whig
statesmen of the day. In like manner his last work of
consequence was devoted to a similar end. He was a
staunch defender of the unfortunate Queen Caroline, and
when, on the death of the king, her name was ordered
to be erased from the Liturgy, he recorded his sentiments
on that subject in the prayer book of Hatton Church in
the following terms :- —
" Numerous and weighty are the reasons which induce
me deliberately and solemnly to record in the prayer-
book of my parish the following particulars. With deep
and unfeigned sorrow I have read in the London
Gazette? &c.
" It is my duty as a subject, and as an Ecclesiastic, to
read what is prescribed by my sovereign as head of the
Church of England. But it is not my duty to express
my approbation as well as to yield obedience, when my
feelings as a man, and my principles as a Christian,
compel me to disapprove and deplore. If the person
who, for many years, was prayed for as Princess of Wales,
has not ceased to be the wife of the Royal Personage
who was called Prince of Wales, most assuredly she
becomes Queen when he becomes King ; and Queen she
must remain, till by some judicial process her conjugal
relation to our legitimate Sovereign be authoritatively
dissolved."
This was a very characteristic act of Parr. He was
the sort of political partizan which makes wise party
leaders pray that they may be delivered from their friends.
Samuel Parr. 1 77
It is amusing to notice how all the great Whig statesmen
with whom he corresponded endeavour in their letters to
him to steer clear of politics, and discuss such neutral
matters as points of classical criticism, etc.
We now return to Dr Parr's personal history. In 1 805
his favourite daughter Catherine died of consumption,
and in 1810 Mrs Parr fell a victim to the same insidious
disease. The character of this lady has been already
indicated. " Her sarcasms," says Dr Johnstone, " often
wounded Parr's spirit, her want of temper (good temper,
he means — of the other kind she possessed ample abun-
dance) diminished his domestic happiness, and her bitter
and false representations sometimes tended to injure his
fame. It is due to the purity of his life and conversation
that I say thus much ; for many still survive who might
repeat to his disadvantage the bitter invective, the dark
insinuation, the sly complaint that were too often heard
in former times at Hatton." To such a height did the
domestic squabble of Parr and his wife sometimes rise,
that De Quincey relates that on one occasion Parr, rising
up from the table in the middle of a fierce dispute with Mrs
Parr, took a carving knife, and applying it to a portrait
hanging upon the wall, drew it sharply across the jugu-
lar, and cut the throat of the portrait from ear to ear, thus
murdering her in effigy.
The story of the events connected with the marriage
of Parr's eldest daughter, Sarah, forms quite a romance.
In 1796, John, the eldest son of Mr Wynne, a gentle-
man of property who resided in Denbighshire, was placed
under the care of Dr Parr at Hatton. He became attached
to Sarah Parr, and, some way or other, his attachment
became known to his family during the Christmas holi-
days. On his return to Hatton in February, it became
obvious to Mrs Parr also, who accordingly communicated
M
1 78 Great Scholars.
with Mrs Wynne on the subject. The result was, that
John Wynne was sent home in February, but soon re-
turned after having been duly cautioned "to guard
against those susceptibilities and facilities which had shown
themselves in him from his earliest infancy." Not to
enter minutely into details, the end of the affair was, that
the young couple eloped to Gretna Green and got married
there. When they returned to Hatton, Parr declined to
receive them, and they were obliged to take refuge in a
farm house in the neighbourhood. Wynne's father
firmly avowed his intention of cutting his son off with a
shilling. Parr soon relented, and after a few years Mr
Wynne did the same, and, on his death, his son succeeded
to the estate. But the worst was yet to come. Dissen-
sions arose between the pair, and at length a separation
took place. Mrs Wynne's youngest child remained with
her, but her two other children were not permitted to
visit her even on her deathbed. She died at Hatton in
1 8 10. She appears to have been possessed of consider-
able talents, as well as of a good many very unamiable
qualities. " Those who remember Mrs Wynne," says
Dr Johnstone, " cannot fail to recollect that her wit had
often too keen an edge, and that she often viewed things
through a coloured and partial medium, and represented
them accordingly in sarcastic and bitter terms." Parr's
many afflictions at this time depressed him considerably.
" My domestic sorrows," he writes to Dr Burney, a little
before Mrs Wynne's death, " weigh me quite down, but
I shall summon all my courage, and in truth, dear Sir,
I have a very deep and serious sense of the duties which
I owe to my grandchildren as their protector. I had
reckoned much on the judicious and affectionate aid
they and their poor mother would have had from Mrs
Parr. But these hopes are no more. I have long learned
Samuel Parr. 179
to value life chiefly as a sort of trust reposed in us by the
Almighty for promoting the good of His creatures, and
as a state of discipline preparatory to a nobler sphere of
agency. This conviction is firmly seated in my mind ;
it does not weaken any of the feelings which are natural
to the human heart. No, Charles, but it invigorates
them, and purifies them, and exalts them from the rank of
weaknesses into incentives to virtue ; and when mingled
with reflection, intention, and active exercise, raises the
soul of man to the most becoming and animating piety."
There is little to tell about the closing years of Parr's
life. It is pleasing to find that the increased value of his
stall at St Paul's gave him a handsome annual income
during the latter part of his life. He was now enabled
to gratify one of the ambitions of his youth. He set up
a coach and four, and amused himself and others by
driving about the neighbourhood with it in great state.
In 18 1 6 he married again, the object of his choice being
Miss Eyre, the sister of his friend, the Rev. James Eyre.
This second marriage appears to have been a happy one,
Mrs Parr doing all for her husband that a faithful wife
could do. Another circumstance that tended to make
the close of Parr's life brighter was his reconciliation to
his grandchildren, which occurred upon the second mar-
riage of their father, when they sought refuge at Hatton,
and were received with overflowing kindness.
Dr Parr expired full of years, and full of honours, on
the 6th of March 1825. He died in peace, surrounded
by all the friends and relatives whom he best loved. The
closing scene cannot be better described than in the
words of Dr Johnstone. " During fifty days of suffering,
and during which time he was more helpless than the
newborn babe, it needs no great flight of imagination to
conceive that his fortitude and magnanimity were tried
t8o Great Scholars.
to the utmost. Except, indeed, when his position was
obliged to be moved, and the cry of anguish could not
be repressed, he never repined, he never complained.
Ejaculations of pious hope, and unfeigned confidence,
frequently broke from him in murmurs of thankfulness
or prayer, and his countenance, except when he was tor-
tured with pain, had that pleasing expression which usu-
ally attended his calm and more agreeable conversations.
On Sunday, the 6th March, the approach of death became
more evident, the pulsation of the artery at the wrist was
imperceptible, yet he awoke conscious, spoke to Mrs
Lynes, and knew those about him. Gratefully affected
by the attention I endeavoured to show him, he appeared,
from his attitude, repeatedly to bless me, and with the
utmost emphasis of his dying voice, saluted me as his
most dear friend. The expression of his countenance
during the greater part of the day, was almost divine.
He could take no food, yet with short intervals of delirium,
had the most complete possession of his intellect. Not
a murmur of impatience escaped him ; except the words
of kindness he whispered to those about him, all he
uttered was devotional ; and such was his frame of mind
till five minutes before his death. He then became in-
sensible, and departed by an inaudible expiration at six
in the afternoon."
He was buried at Hatton on the 14th of March. In
compliance with Parr's own request, his old and faithful
friend Dr Butler preached the funeral sermon. He per-
formed his difficult task well and gracefully, not altogether
passing over Parr's faults, but showing how greatly they
were counterbalanced by his virtues.
About Dr Parr's personal appearance and habits, much
might be written. The following graphic sketch of him
by De Quincey, if somewhat too much of a caricature
Samuel Parr. 1 8 1
seems in its main features to be confirmed by what we
know of Parr otherwise.* He had been prepared to
expect in Dr Parr a huge carcass of a man, fourteen stone
at the least. " Even his style, pursy and bloated, and his
sesquipedalian words, all warranted the same conclusion.
Hence, then, our surprise and the perplexity we have
recorded, when the door opened, and a little man in a
buz wig, cut his way through the company, and made for
a fauteuil standing opposite to the fire. Into this he
lunged, and then forthwith without preface or apology,
began to open his talk upon us. Here arose a new
marvel and a greater. If we had been scandalised at Dr
Parr's want of thews and bulk, conditions so indispensable
for enacting the part of Samuel Johnson, much more,
and with better reason, were we now petrified, with his
voice, utterance, gestures, and demeanour. Conceive,
reader, by way of counterpoise to the fine enunciation of
Dr Johnson, an infantine lisp — the worst we ever heard,
from the lips of a man above sixty, and accompanied
with all sorts of ridiculous grimaces and little stage ges-
ticulations. As he sat in his chair, turning alternately to
the right and to the left, that he might dispense his edi-
fication in equal proportions among us, he seemed the
very image of a little gossiping French Abbe.
* Since, perhaps, most people who know anything about Parr,
have derived their knowledge of him from De Quincey, it is but
right to say that his narrative is far from conveying an accurate idea
of Parr. Robert Landor, in a letter to Mr Forster, the biographer of
his brother, Walter Savage Landor, who was a great friend of
Parr's, says truly that "If Mr De Quincey had been desirous to
show us how far it might be possible to convey the most false
and injurious notions of a man in language which no one could
contradict, which said nothing but the truth, he could hardly have
succeeded better. What he has written is very true, and very false ;
but there are some old people, like myself, who may wish that the
mixture had been less skilfully malicious and a great deal more
honest."
182 Great Scholars.
"Yet all that we have mentioned was, and seemed to
be, a trifle compared with the infinite pettiness of the
matter. Nothing did he utter but little shreds of calum-
nious tattle — the most ineffably silly and frivolous of all
that was then circulating in the Whig salons of London
against the Regent. He began precisely in these words :
' Oh ! I shall tell you ' (laying a stress upon the word
shall, which still further aided the resemblance to a
Frenchman), ' a-sto-hee ' (lispingly for story) ' about the
Pince Thegent ' (such was his nearest approximation to
Prince Regent). ' Oh, the Pince Thegent, the Pince
Thegent — what a sad, sad man he has turned out ! But
you shall hear. Oh, what a Pince ! what a Thegent ! —
what a sad Pince Thegent ! " And so the old babbler
went on, sometimes wringing his little hands in lamenta-
tion, sometimes flourishing them with French grimaces
and shrugs of shoulders, sometimes expanding and con-
tracting his fingers like a fan. After an hour's twaddle
of the lowest and most scandalous description, suddenly
he rose, and hopped out of the room, exclaiming all the
way, ' Oh ! what a Pince, oh, what a Thegent, — did
anybody ever hear of such a sad Pince, such a sad
Thegent, such a sad, sad, Pince Thegent. Oh, what a
Pince,'" &c. Alluding to Parr's defective articulation
and illegible handwriting, Lord Holland used to say that
it was most unfortunate for a man so full of learning and
information as Dr Parr, that he could not easily commu-
nicate his knowledge ; for when he spoke, nobody could
make out what he said, and when he wrote, nobody
could read his handwriting. Owing to that merciful dis-
pensation of Providence which prevents us from seeing
ourselves as others see us, Parr was rather proud of his
personal appearance than otherwise, and occasionally
devoted considerable attention to it. The main object
Samuel Parr. 183
of his solicitude was his wigs, about which several anxious
letters as to their safe transmission are to be found, writ-
ten to his friend John Bartlam. None of the portraits
of him were to his satisfaction. " All the artists," said
he, " to whom I have sat, fail in one feature — none of
them give me my peculiar ferocity." He had a notion
that his eye possessed some peculiar power, so that,
when he stared at any one whom he wished to inspire
with awe for him, he immediately succeeded in his object.
" I inflicted my eye on him," was his phrase in such
cases. How unutterably ridiculous all this is can only
be appreciated by those who have looked at the portraits
of Parr given in Dr Johnstone's edition of his works.
Like the great man whom he imitated in most respects
to the best of his ability — Dr Johnson — Parr was a lover
of good living. His biographer devotes the greater part
of two pages to justify him in this, which is entirely a
work of supererogation, as all sensible men will at once
say he was right. His love for tobacco was, however,
carried to an excess. He smoked in season and out of
season. When he visited any house he expected a pipe
to be prepared for him instanter, and if this was not
done, he never forgot the injury. " To the lady of the
house," says Dr Johnstone, " though a ceremonious, Dr
Parr was sometimes a troublesome guest. When he was
thwarted or attacked, or in company of those he disliked
or suspected, he certainly had the power of being most
exquisitely disagreeable."
Among Parr's many peculiarities was his extraordi-
nary fondness for church bells. He was an expert cam-
panologist, and loved to descant upon his favourite topic.
He erected a fine peal of bells at Hatton, to obtain sub-
scriptions for which, he says in one of his letters, " I
have been importunate and almost imprudent in my ap-
184 Great Scholars.
plications." He once entertained a notion of writing a
book on campanology. Doubtless, if he had done so,
he would have mentioned, with lurking sympathy, a book
De Coelesti Statu, printed in 1618, which employs 426
pages to prove that the principal employment of the
blest in heaven will be the continual ringing of bells !
Of Parr's intellectual characteristics, vanity was per-
haps the most prominent. If we were to extract from
his letters all the passages where he praises himself, they
would occupy at least as many pages as this biography.
" Doctor," said his friend Shepherd to him one day,
"the public are aware of the depth and the extent of
your erudition, and many of us have wondered that you
were never made a Bishop." " Aye, sir," replied he
with much animation, " I think I have stuff in me to
make a Bishop of. But, sir, I have barred my promo-
tion by my independent spirit. Sir, I would always
speak my mind. I burnt my quarters with the old
gentleman (George III.) by loudly protesting against
that wicked American war, and with the young gentle-
man (George IV.) I have ruined myself by taking part
with his much-injured wife. If I had been promoted to
the Bench, sir, I would have restricted myself to my epis-
copal duties — I would have looked well to my clergy —
and would have been very civil to you Non-cons. Sir, I
would have often invited them to my table, and would
have rubbed off their rust and their asperities. But I
would have been sparing of my speech in the House
of Lords. The less we say there, sir, the better. A
prating bishop, sir, is much disliked." His friend Mr
Street relates in the Parriana: " Soon after this I went
with him to the House of Commons. Sir James Mack-
intosh, I think, went with him. The debate was of great
importance. The Doctor sat in the side gallery, from
Samuel Parr. i 85
where he could see and be seen by the leading members
of the opposition. Mr Fox rose and spoke. The Doc-
tor's eyes sparkled with animation. As Mr Fox pro-
ceeded, the Doctor grew more animated, and at last rose
as if with the intention of speaking. He was reminded
of the impropriety, and immediately sat down. After
Mr Fox had concluded he exclaimed : ' Had I followed
any other profession, I might have been sitting by the
side of that illustrious statesman ; I should have had all
his powers of argument, all Erskine's eloquence, and all
Hargrave's law.' " Anecdotes such as these might be
given in abundance, but enough is as good as a feast.
" Parr was rather fitted for the law than the church," says
Sydney Smith, " and would have been a more consider-
able man if he had been more knocked about among his
equals. He lived among country gentlemen and clergy-
men, who flattered and feared him." Certainly a con-
siderable number of his friends appear to have been
toadies of the first water.
Like a great many other people, Parr prided himself
more upon what he might have done than upon what he
actually did accomplish. He was constantly forming
brilliant projects which came to nothing. One of these
was a life of Dr Johnson. Johnson met Parr once at
least, and appears to have formed a not unfavourable
estimate of him. " Parr," he said, " is a fair man ; I do
not know when I have had an occasion for such free
controversy. A life of Dr Johnson by Parr would have
been a literary curiosity of the greatest interest. What
a difference there would have been between the sesquipe-
dalian words and ponderous magniloquence of Parr, and
the free and genial style of Boswell's great narrative !
Indeed, though Parr's style was often praised in his life-
time, it has almost all the faults that a style can have.
1 86 Great Scholars.
He never uses a short word where it is possible to use
a long one. He never makes a simple statement in
simple language, but envelopes the most common-place
thoughts in a cloud of turgid diction equally ridiculous
and obscure. His style was doubtless formed upon the
model of Johnson, but he writes much more Johnsonese
than Johnson himself ever did. In Johnson's writings,
if the form the thoughts are expressed in is occasionally
bad, the thoughts themselves are almost always worth
noticing. In Parr's writings, only too often we have a
worthless thought expressed in worthless language. Not
that there are not some passages in Parr's works which
reward the reader who patiently looks for them, but they
are but as oases in the desert, all around is a sandy plain
of common-place. " What, meanwhile must be the con-
dition of an era, when the highest advantages then become
perverted into drawbacks ; when, if you take two men of
genius, and put the one between the handles of the
plough, and mount the other between the painted
coronets of a coach and four, and bid them both move
along, the former shall arrive a Burns, the latter a Byron ;
two men of talent, and put the one into a printers' chapel,
full of lamp black, tyrannous usage, hard toil, and the
other into Oxford [Cambridge it should have been]
Universities, with lexicons and libraries, and hired ex-
positors, and sumptuous endowments, the former shall
come out a Dr Franklin, the latter a Dr Parr ! " Thus
writes Thomas Carlyle, and the passage is a striking
illustration of his peculiar faculty for implying a good
deal more than he actually expresses. Parr's stores of
erudition were often a curse to him rather than a blessing
— he was buried beneath the weight of his own orna-
ments.
But though Dr Parr does not always inspire respect, we
Sam uel Parr. 1 8 7
cannot take leave of him without a feeling of kindness.
Though often a wrong-headed, he was always a thoroughly
conscientious man, doing what he believed to be right,
with a sublime indifference to worldly considerations.
He was also an extremely kind-hearted man, poverty and
distress were always the surest recommendations to his
favour, he was the last man to desert a friend in the hour
of need, and he was the last man to turn a deaf ear to
an enemy who had wronged him, but who had repented
and asked forgiveness. If what Parr accomplished him-
self in scholarship is of comparatively little importance,
it is to be remembered that the advice and aid he so
freely bestowed upon others, often enabled them to
accomplish what they could not otherwise have done.
The number of distinguished and excellent men who
were his constant friends and who sincerely mourned his
death, is a sufficient proof, that in spite of all his oddities
and imperfections, Samuel Parr was at bottom a man of
genuine worth and of genuine ability.
MISCELLANEOUS.
THOMAS RUDDIMAN — SIR WILLIAM JONES —
DR ALEXANDER MURRAY- ALEXANDER ADAM
—JAMES MELVIN— BISHOP BLOMFIELD.
Though Scotland has not produced so many great
scholars as England, though it cannot boast of a Bentley
or a Porson, and of very few even in the same rank as
Dawes or Elmsley, yet in the number of learned men
who have been entirely the architects of their own for-
tune, who, born in the deepest poverty, have acquired
erudition by their own unremitting exertions, Scotland is
considerably ahead of the sister kingdom. For this vari-
ous reasons might be given. The excellence of the in-
struction afforded by the parish schools, placing learning
within the reach of the meanest rustic, is one ; and the
cheapness of the Scotch universities compared to the
English, is another. The early history of
THOMAS RUDDIMAN,
the greatest Latinist of his time, probably the greatest
since Buchanan, is a typical one. Though few, certainly,
have achieved so distinguished a success, many narra-
tives of the same kind might be told, of men sprung
from as lowly an origin, who, having by dint of steady
perseverance acquired learning, have succeeded in break-
ing their birth's invidious bar, and have risen to honour
and affluence.
Ruddiman was born in October 1674, in the parish of
Boyndie, Banffshire. His father was a respectable
farmer, whose loyalty was of a kind quite extinct nowa-
days. On hearing of the death of that model monarch,
192 Great Scholars.
Charles II., he was so affected as to burst into tears.
Doubtless he was careful to inculcate in his son that
veneration for the divine right of kings which he himself
entertained, and the lesson was well learnt, for Ruddi-
man clung fast to the same principles throughout life.
He was sent to the parish school of Boyndie, where he
was initiated in the elements of Latin, and advanced so
rapidly as to quickly outstrip all his fellows. The first
book that charmed his fancy was the " Metamorphoses "
of Ovid, who, during the rest of his life, was his favour-
ite poet. Ruddiman seems to have been born with a
vocation for scholarship, and when about the age of six-
teen, having now, it is probable, exhausted the stores of
his master's learning, he began to think of going to the
University of Aberdeen, where, he had heard, there were
annually bursaries awarded for proficiency in classical
learning. To Aberdeen he resolved to go, but his father
opposed his inclination, thinking him too young. How-
ever, Ruddiman was not to be baffled. Confiding his
secret to no one but his sister, who slipped a guinea into
his pocket, he set out for Aberdeen. He had not gone
very far when he unfortunately met with a company of
gipsies, who robbed the poor lad of his coat, his shoes,
his stockings, and his guinea. If Ruddiman had not been
of a very courageous spirit, this misfortune would doubt-
less have utterly discomfited him, but the young enthu-
siast manfully pressed on, and, on reaching Aberdeen,
was rewarded for his efforts by obtaining the first bursary.
His father, in the meantime, having heard where his son
had gone, hastened after him, and reached Aberdeen in
time to congratulate him upon his distinguished success.
After studying at King's College for four years, Ruddi-
man obtained the degree of Master of Arts, an honour of
which he was extremely proud.
Thomas Ruddiman. 193
Soon after he was engaged by a Forfarshire gentleman
to assist in the education of his son, in which situation
he continued to study assiduously and advance his
attainments in scholarship. After having held this office
for about a year, he quitted it to become parish school-
master at Laurencekirk. It gives one a curious idea of
the state of things in Scotland at the time, to learn that
Ruddiman's emoluments while there amounted to about
;£n per annum. For his removal from Laurencekirk,
and his consequent advancement in life, he was indebted
to one of these strange accidents which often exercise so
much influence over our destinies. After he had been
there for over three years, the celebrated Dr Pitcairne,
who happened, owing to the inclemency of the weather,
to be detained for a day in the village of Laurencekirk,
asked his hostess whether she knew of anyone who would
bear him company at dinner, and by his conversation
help to divert the tedium of the evening. She replied
that the schoolmaster, though a very modest man, was
reported to have great learning, and would doubtless
prove a suitable companion. Ruddiman was accord-
ingly sent for, and so delighted was the doctor by his
pleasing and learned conversation, that he invited him to
Edinburgh, and promised him his patronage.
In the beginning of 1700 Ruddiman went to Edin-
burgh, and shortly afterwards was appointed assistant
librarian of the Advocates' Library, at a salary of £,%,
6s. 8d. per annum. What time he could spare from the
often laborious duties of his office, he employed in
teaching young gentlemen the Latin language, by which
means, and by copying manuscripts, etc., he eked out as
best he could his slender pittance. The situation of
librarian must have been an eminently suitable one for
Ruddiman, affording him, as it did, ample opportunities
P
194 Great Scholars.
for all kinds of literary research. So pleased were his
employers with him, that when he had held the office for
two years they made him a present of fifty pounds Scots,
equal to £4, 3s. 46. We have very full information as
to the various sums of money Ruddiman received, owing
to the fact that he noted them down in a pocket-book,
which was preserved after his death.
When Ruddiman's talents and learning became known,
his assistance was often solicited by those who were en-
gaged in literary publications. His first employment of
this kind was as editor of a Latin historical work by Sir
Robert Sibbald. He also contributed his aid to~|the
publication of Sir Robert Spottiswoode's " Practiques of
the Law of Scotland." For these labours he received
respectively £$ and ^5. Ruddiman had now a wife
and a family, so he began to look out for some occupa-
tion which might prove more remunerative than litera-
ture seemed likely to be. Accordingly, in 1707, he com-
menced book auctioneer, an occupation in which he
appears to have been very successful. The same year he
published an edition of Wilson's "De Animi Tranquillitate
Dialogus," to which he prefixed a life of the author.
Soon after this he engaged in a more important work, an
edition of Gawin Douglas's Scottish translation of the
y£neid. This he corrected throughout, and enriched it
with a glossary which has been very highly commended,
besides adding, as is supposed, forty-two general rules
for enabling the reader to understand the language of
Douglas. For this work he received ^8, 6s. 8d.
On a vacancy occurring in the rectorship of the
Dundee Grammar School in 1710, Ruddiman was
offered the appointment, but the Faculty of Advocates
were unwilling to lose the benefit of his services, and so
raised his salary to ^30. In 1 7 1 1 he assisted Bishop Sage
Thomas Ruddiman. 195
in publishing a new edition of the works of Drummond
of Hawthornden. In 17 14 appeared the first edition of
the work which was destined to make his name a house-
hold word to the schoolboys of several generations, his
" Rudiments of the Latin Tongue," an excellent little
manual, which was almost universally used in Scotch
schools till quite recently. It passed through fifteen
editions in the author's lifetime, and was translated into
several foreign languages.
In 1 7 15 there was printed at Edinburgh a magnificent
folio edition of Buchanan's works in two volumes under
the editorship of Ruddiman. What Ruddiman's political
principles were has been already indicated — in almost
every point they were directly the opposite of Buchanan's,
so that, except for his profound acquaintance with Latin,
he was not a very suitable man to select as editor. He
warmly espoused the cause of Queen Mary, accusing
Buchanan of gross ingratitude, and managed to raise
against himself a host of enemies, whose hostility in one
case took the formidable shape of a " Society of the
Scholars of Edinburgh, to vindicate that incomparably
learned and pious author from the Calumnie of Mr
Thomas Ruddiman." Many works were written in refu-
tation of his treatment of Buchanan's character, some of
which deserve a passing notice. One of them was by
Logan, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, who is described
as " a weak and illiterate man, but an obstinate polemic "
— perhaps not an uncommon combination. Another
was by Love, the schoolmaster of Dalkeith, who has
been consigned to unenviable immortality by the graphic
pen of Smollett, who satirises him in the beginning of
" Roderick Random." But by far Ruddiman's most
bitter assailant was James Man, master of an hospital at
Aberdeen, who devoted a volume of over five hundred
196 Great Scholars.
pages to abuse him and vindicate Buchanan. This pro-
duction was published in 1754, when Ruddiman had
reached his eightieth year. The title is : — " A censure
and examination of Mr Thomas Ruddiman's philological
notes on the works of the great Buchanan, more particu-
larly on the history of Scotland ; in which also, most of
the chronological and geographical, and many of the
historical and political notes are taken into consideration.
In a letter to a friend. Necessary for restoring the true
readings, the graces and beauties, and for understanding
the true meaning of a vast number of passages of
Buchanan's writings, which have been so foully cor-
rupted, so miserably defaced, so grossly perverted and
misunderstood. Containing many curious particulars of
his life, and a vindication of his character from many
gross calumnies." Man's attack on Ruddiman is a
"thing of sound and fury,'signifying nothing," for with all
his acuteness he was able to point out only twenty errors
in the two folio volumes, and some of these even were
very trifling. In two pamphlets which he published in
reply, Ruddiman gained a complete victory over his
antagonist, and drew up against him an account of four
hundred and sixty-nine errors, under fourteen heads, of
which the following are specimens : 1. Falsehoods and
prevarications, twenty ; 2. absurdities, sixty-nine ; and
3. passages from classical authors which were misunder-
stood by Man, ten.
In 1 7 15 Ruddiman started a printing office of his own,
in company with his brother Walter, who had been re-
gularly bred to the business. Some years after he was
appointed printer to the University, which had long been
the object of his ambition. It gives one a high idea of
the state of learning in Scotland at this period, to think
that at Edinburgh so many fine publications should have
Thomas Ruddiman. 197
been issued by Ruddiman, and that at Glasgow the Foulis
Press should have sent forth productions still prized by
book-lovers for the beauty and accuracy of their typo-
graphy. Ruddiman well deserves to be ranked with
those famous printers who were among the most active
restorers of learning, with Aldus Manutius and Robert
and Henry Stephens. The editions of classical authors
that issued from his press were printed with great accur-
acy, and often exhibited new readings and emendations
of punctuation in the highest degree creditable to the
learning of the editor. The masterpiece of Ruddiman's
press is his edition of Livy, printed in 1751, which Har-
wood declares to be the most accurate ever published,
and which will bear favourable comparison with the
famous Foulis edition of Horace, printed in 1744, the
sheets of which, as is well known, were hung up in
Glasgow University, and a reward offered to any one who
could point out an error. This edition of Horace was
long believed to be immaculate, but several inaccuracies
have been detected in it.
In 1724 Ruddiman began to print the "Caledonian
Mercury," and five years after became its proprietor. It
was at first printed three times a week, on Monday,
Tuesday, and Thursday, on a small quarto sheet of four
pages, with two columns in each page, and fifty lines in
each column. Like all similar productions at the time,
it made no pretensions to be anything but a mere day
chronicle of facts. When the rebellion broke out in
1745, the " Mercury " was looked on with much suspicion
by the authorities, owing to the well-known political prin-
ciples of the proprietor. Ruddiman sensibly refrained
from taking any part in the Rebellion, and quietly em-
ployed himself in writing critical observations on Bur-
man's edition of Lucan. His son, who was principal
198 Great Scholars.
manager of the "Mercury," having copied from an
English paper a paragraph which was reckoned seditious,
was imprisoned, and though his release was soon pro-
cured, it came too late, for the unfortunate young man
had contracted a disease while in prison, and died soon
after he came out.
In 1725 appeared the first part of Ruddiman's "Insti-
tutions of Latin Grammar." The second part, which
treats of syntax, was published in 1731. At the time of
its publication this was decidedly the best work of its
kind in any language, and it is still thought worthy of
respectful mention by scholars. A third part, on prosody,
was written, but not published ; " for," said the author,
" the age has so little taste, that the sale would not cover
the expense." In 1733 he printed " A Dissertation upon
the way of teaching the Latin Tongue," a subject which
he was eminently qualified to treat of, and regarding which
he gives many sensible suggestions.
It is gratifying to learn that Ruddiman's labours were
attended by more solid rewards than fame. In 17 10 he
had valued his effects at ^24, 14s. 9d. In 1736 his
wealth had increased to ^1985, 6s. 3d. In his sixty-
fifth year he resigned his share of the printing establish-
ment to his son, allowing, however, his name to remain
in the firm to continue its credit. His last literary-
labour was an introduction to Anderson's " Selectus Dip-
lomatum et Numismatum Scotiae Thesaurus." Early in
1752 he resigned his office of Librarian of the Advocates'
Library, and was succeeded by the celebrated David
Hume.
This excellent and talented man died in January 1757,
at the ripe age of eighty-three, leaving behind him a fortune
°f j£3°°°- His character seems in every way to have been
a most exemplary one. Frugal, patient, industrious, he
richly merited the success he gained. In person he was
Sir William Jones. 199
of middle height, thin and straight, and had eyes remark-
ably piercing. On the whole Ruddiman strikes one as
having really been one of the best men who ever lived.
Even controversy was incapable of souring his nature.
Though often treated with insolence by his opponents,
he constantly refrained from treating them with scurrility,
and when his old antagonist Love died, Ruddiman pub-
lished a very favourable character of him in the " Cale-
donian Mercury." Men of this stamp are rare, and their
memories should not be let die.
Perhaps, as a general rule, great linguists are apt to be
over-rated. It is so shining an accomplishment to be
able to talk in six or seven different tongues, that people
forget that the mere knack of acquiring languages is in
itself a very useless thing. Men like Cardinal Mezzofanti,
who knew nearly every language in existence, often pass,
as he did, profoundly useless lives, and are distinguished
by no remarkable mental power save only memory. No
doubt a strong memory is a very useful gift, but unless it
be united with the faculties, it is apt to benefit no one
but its owner. But when facility in acquiring languages
is united with higher mental powers, it is a very valuable
thing indeed. No better example of a man who was at
once a great linguist and possessed great talents in other
ways, could be given than
SIR WILLIAM JONES,
who, in his character, probably more nearly resembles the
traditional Admirable Crichton than any man that ever
lived.
He was born in London in the year 1746. His father,
who was a teacher of mathematics, and was honoured
with the friendship of Sir Isaac Newton, died when he
was only three years of age, leaving him to the care of
200 Great Scholars.
his mother, a woman of singular virtues and accomplish-
ments. When her son applied to her for information on
any subject, her constant answer was, " Read, and you
will know," thus laying the foundation of those habits of
minute and painstaking inquiry which so distinguished
him. At the early age of seven he was sent to Harrow
School, where, as we have seen, he had for his com-
panions Parr and Bennet. At Harrow he was more dis-
tinguished for industry, regularity, and attention than for
brilliant talents ; however, he at length rose to be head
boy of the school, was flattered by his master with the
title of the Great Scholar, and drew from Dr Thackeray
an opinion, that " Jones was a boy of so active a mind,
that if he were left naked and friendless on Salisbury
Plain, he would, nevertheless, find the road to fame and
fortune." In 1764 he entered at University College,
Oxford, to which he carried with him not only a very
extraordinary store of classical erudition, but some ac-
quaintance with Hebrew and Arabic, and a fair know-
ledge of French and Italian. While at the University
he worked exceedingly hard, frequently devoting whole
nights to study, when he would generally take tea or
coffee to ward off sleep. Other things besides learning
were, however, not altogether neglected. " His vaca-
tions," we are told, " were passed in London, where he
daily attended the schools of Angelo for the purpose of
acquiring the elegant accomplishments of riding and
fencing. He was always a strenuous advocate for the
practice of bodily exercises, as no less useful to invigor-
ate the frame than as a necessary qualification for any
active exertions to which he might eventually be called.
At home his attention was directed to the modern lan-
guages, and he read the best authors in Italian, Spanish,
and Portuguese, following in all respects the plan of
education recommended by Milton, which he had by
Sir William Jones. 201
heart ; and thus, to transcribe an observation of his own,
with the fortune of a peasant, giving himself the educa-
tion of a prince."
In 1765 he accepted the situation of private tutor to
Lord Althorp, son of Earl Spencer, and in the following
year was appointed to a fellowship in the university,
which yielded him a hundred pounds a year. His time
was now divided principally between Oxford and Althorp,
and he not only pursued his classical studies, but acquired
a competent knowledge of Arabic and Persian, besides
indulging his ambition for universal accomplishment by
taking private lessons in dancing from Gallini, the most
celebrated dancing-master of the day, and practising the
broad-sword with an old pensioner at Chelsea. In 1767
he visited the Continent with the Spencer family, and
though his stay there was short, he gratified his insatiable
thirst for information by studying German, and dedicated
a considerable part of his time " to the lessons of Janson
of Aix-la-Chapelle, a most incomparable dancing-master."
Before setting out, in the twenty-first year of his age, he
began his " Commentaries on Asiatic Poetry," in imitation
of Lowth's prelections on the sacred poetry of the
Hebrews.
Jones's reputation as an Orientalist was now tolerably
wide spread. A striking proof of this is that in 1768 he
was selected to render into French a Persian life of Nadir
Shah, transmitted to the English Government by the King
of Denmark for the purpose of translation. He at first
declined the task ; but finding no one disposed to under-
take it, and unwilling that the King should be obliged to
go to France for the performance of any literary work,
he was at length induced to engage in it. He would have
accomplished the translation much more easily if he had
been directed to do it in Latin, as he found the acquisition
202 Great Scholars.
of a French style very tedious. However, it was com-
pleted within a year, in a manner that did him great credit.
It was not printed till 1770, when forty copies upon large
paper were sent to Copenhagen, one of them bound with
great magnificence for the King himself, the others as pre-
sents for his courtiers. In return for all this trouble and
expense, his Danish Majesty sent Jones a diploma, consti-
tuting him a member of the Royal Society of Copenhagen,
and recommended him in the strongest terms to the
favour and benevolence of his own Sovereign ! No
wonder that, when in 1773 an abridged edition of the
book was published, Jones in the preface takes an oppor-
tunity of lamenting that the profession of literature leads
to no benefit or true glory whatsoever, adding, " Unless a
man can assert his own independence in active life, it
will avail him little to be favoured by the learned,
esteemed by the eminent, or recommended even to kings"
In 1770 he also finished his Latin "Commentaries on
Asiatic Poetry," the style of which is commended by Dr
Parr, as good an authority as could have been found.
" On the whole," writes Parr, " I have received infinite en-
tertainment from this curious and learned performance,
and I look forward with pleasure to the great honour which
such a publication will do our country." It was not
printed till 1774. The winter of 1770 he passed on the
Continent with the Spencer family, during which, he in-
forms one of his correspondents, his occupations were
" music, with all its sweetness and feeling ; difficult and
abstruse problems in mathematics ; and the beautiful
and sublime in poetry and painting."
Soon after his return to England he left the family of
Lord Spencer, and dedicated himself to the study of law
as a profession. For a time he almost totally abandoned
his Oriental studies, and devoted himself entirely to law.
Sir William Jones. 203
A letter to his friend Schultens gives his impression of
legal studies, and is worth quoting, as showing that slight
taint of priggishness which was about the only defect in
Jones's character. " The constitution of England is in
no respect inferior to that of Rome or Athens ; this is
my fixed opinion, which I formed in my earliest years,
and shall ever retain. Although I sincerely acknowledge
the charms of polite literature, I must at the same time
adopt the sentiment of Neoptolemus in the tragedy, that
we can philosophize with a few only ; and no less the
axiom of Hippocrates, that life is short, art long, and
time swift. But I will also maintain the excellence and
delight of other studies. What ! shall we deny that there
is pleasure in mathematics, when we recollect Archi-
medes, the prince of geometricians, who was so intensely
absorbed in the demonstration of a problem, that he did
not discover Syracuse was taken ? Can we conceive any
study more important than the single one of the laws
of our own country ? Let me recall to your recollection
the observations of L. Crassus and Q. Scsevola on this
subject, in the treatise of Cicero, De Oratore. What ! do
you imagine the goddess of eloquence to possess less
attractions than Thalia or Polyhymnia? or have you
forgotten the epithet which Ennius bestows on Cethegus,
the quintessence of eloquence, and the flower of the
people ? Is there a man existing who would not rather
resemble Cicero, whom I wish absolutely to make my
model, both in the course of his life and studies, than be
like Varro, however learned, or Lucretius, however in-
genious as a poet ? If the study of the law were really
unpleasant or disgusting, which is far from the truth, the
example of the wisest of the ancients, and of Minerva
herself, the goddess of wisdom, would justify me in pre-
ferring the useful olive to the barren laurel." It would be
204 Great Scholars.
unfair not to mention that this letter was originally written
in Latin, and what looks very like nonsense in English
often sounds rather sonorous and eloquent in that tongue.
The passage where he proposes Cicero as his model is
noteworthy. It is not a mere rhetorical flourish, but was
really meant. He is said to have invariably read through
his works every year.
Jones was called to the bar in 1774. His forensic
debut was not very successful. He is described as having
spoken for nearly an hour with great confidence in a
highly declamatory tone, and with studied action, im-
pressing all present who had ever heard of Cicero or
Hortensius with the belief that he had worked himself
up into the notion of being one or both of them for the
occasion. However, he at length gained a fair share of
business, and was appointed a commissioner of bank-
rupts in 1776. In 1778 he gave proof that his devotion
to legal studies had not destroyed his taste for Greek
literature, by publishing a translation of the " Orations
of Isseus," relative to the laws of succession to property in
Athens. His next publication was a Latin Ode to Liberty,
under the title of "Julii Melesigoni ad Libertatem," a
name formed by the transposition of the letters of Gidiel-
mus Jonesius. In 1780 he became a candidate for the re-
presentation of Oxford, but his chance of election appeared
so slender that he withdrew from the contest. Jones's
political principles were those of a decided Whig. During
the American war he strenuously opposed the measures
unfortunately adopted by the British Government.
The other works of Jones written at this time, which
seem to deserve mention, are an " Essay on the Law of
Bailments," said to be the best written English law-book
on a practical subject, a translation of seven ancient
Arabian poems, and a " Dialogue between a Farmer and
Sir William Jones. 205
a Country Gentleman upon the Principles of Govern-
ment." The grand object of his ambition at this time
was the appointment of Chief-Justice in India. In a
letter to Lord Spencer, written when he was in suspense
about this, he gives a good account of his feelings. " I
cannot," he writes, " legally be appointed till January, or
next month at soonest, because I am not a barrister of
five years' standing till that time. Now, many believe
that they keep the place open to me till I am qualified.
I certainly wish to have it, because I wish to have twenty
thousand pounds in my pocket before I am eight-and-
thirty years' old, and then I might contribute in some
little degree toward the service of my country in Parlia-
ment as well as at the Bar, without selling my liberty to
a patron, as too many of my profession are not ashamed
of doing; and I might be a speaker in the House of
Commons in the full vigour and maturity of my age ;
whereas, in the slow career of Westminster Hall, I should
not perhaps, even with the best success, acquire the same
independent station till the age at which Cicero was killed.
But be assured, my dear Lord, that if the minister be
offended at the style in which I have spoken, do speak,
and will speak of public affairs, and on that account
should refuse to give me the judgeship, I shall not be at
all mortified, having already a very decent competence,
without a debt or a care of any kind."
In 1783 his hopes were gratified by an appointment to
a seat in the Supreme Court of Judicature at Calcutta.
Before setting out he married Miss Shipley, daughter of
the Bishop of St Asaph, to whom he had been long
attached, thus securing, as his friend Lord Ashburton
said, "two of the first objects of human pursuit, those of
ambition and love." He arrived at Calcutta in September,
and entered upon his judicial functions in December.
206 Great Scholars.
Immediately on his arrival he organised a scientific asso-
ciation, under the title of the Asiatic Society. Warren
Hastings, the Governor-General, was offered the office of
president, but declined it in favour of Sir William Jones,
who retained the dignity as long as he lived, and en-
riched the " Transactions " of the society with many
valuable papers.
The study of Sanscrit was one of the first subjects that
engaged his attention in India. The business of the
Courts kept him closely occupied, and it was only during
the vacation that he could find time for any side-work.
How he was accustomed to spend his holidays, appears
from an account which was found among his papers. In
the morning, after writing one letter, he read several
chapters of the Bible, and then studied Sanscrit grammar
and Hindoo law; the afternoon was given to the geo-
graphy of India, and the evening to Roman history;
when the day was closed by a few games at chess, and
the reading of a portion of Ariosto. " It was," says his
biographer, " a fixed principle with him, from which he
never voluntarily deviated, not to be deterred by any
difficulties which were surmountable, from prosecuting to
a successful termination what he had once deliberately
undertaken. But what appears to me more particularly
to have enabled him to employ his talents so much to
his own and the public advantage, was the regular allot-
ment of his time to particular occupations, and a scrupu-
lous adherence to the distribution which he had fixed ;
hence all his studies were pursued without interruption
or confusion." The difficulties of Sanscrit soon melted
away before his indefatigable endeavours, and he was able
to translate " Sacontala, or the Fatal Ring," an ancient
Indian drama, and the " Ordinances of Menu."
In 1793 Lady Jones, whose health had become affected
Sir William Jones. 207
by the climate of India, was compelled to return home.
Several years before this her husband had written : " God
grant that the bad state of my Anna's health do not
compel her to leave India before me. I should remain
like a man with a dead palsy in one of his sides ; but it
were better to lose a side for a time than both for ever."
It would have been possible, in a pecuniary point of
view, for Jones to have left India along with his wife, but
he had voluntarily undertaken a translation of the Digest
of Hindu and Mahommedan laws, the completion of which
he deemed of vital importance to the right administra-
tion of justice in India. " At the period," his biographer
tells us, "when this work was undertaken by Sir William
Jones, he had not resided in India more than four years
and a half ; during which time he had not only acquired
a thorough knowledge of the Sanscrit language, but had
extended his reading in it so far as to be qualified to form
a judgment upon the merit and authority of the authors
to be used in the compilation of his work ; and although
his labour was only applied to the disposition of mate-
rials already formed, he was enabled by his previous
studies to give them an arrangement superior to any
existing, and which the learned natives themselves ap-
proved and admired. In the dispensations of Providence,
it may be remarked, as an occurrence of no ordinary
nature, that the professors of the Brahminical faith should
so far renounce their reserve and distrust as to submit to
the direction of a native of Europe for compiling a digest
of their own laws."
The " Digest " was not destined to be completed by
Jones. In April 1794, after a short illness, he expired
in perfect tranquillity, apparently without the least suffer-
ing. Of all the many excellent men England has sent
out to rule over her great empire in the East, none can
208 Great Scholars.
be mentioned of a more noble and gentle nature than
Jones. There was in him a calm, settled love of all that
is honourable and good, a burning hatred of tyranny and
injustice, a steadfast devotion to duty, and an unwearied
diligence such as has rarely been exampled. By all
classes in India his death was lamented as a public
calamity. Lord Teignmouth relates that the pundits
who were in the habit of attending Jones, when he saw
them at a public durbar a few days after his death, could
neither restrain their tears for his loss, nor find terms to
express their admiration at the wonderful progress he
had made in the sciences which they professed.
The linguistic acquisitions of Sir William Jones have
rarely been exceeded. A list preserved in his own hand-
writing thus classes those languages with which he was in
any degree acquainted : — " Eight languages studied criti-
cally—English, Latin, French, Italian, Greek, Arabic,
Persian, Sanscrit. Eight studied less perfectly, but all
intelligible with a dictionary — Spanish, Portuguese,
German, Runic, Hebrew, Bengalee, Hindu, Turkish.
Twelve studied less perfectly, but all attainable — Thibet-
ian, Pali, Pahlair, Deri, Russian, Syriac, Ethiopic, Coptic,
Welsh, Swedish, Dutch, Chinese." So far as England is
concerned, he was the great pioneer in Eastern learning,
and doubtless, if his life had been spared, he would have
accomplished greater things in this way than he did.
Even as it is, his works form an everlasting memorial of
his industry, his learning, and his talents.
When one examines the contents of a large classical
library, and looks at the old editions of Greek and Latin
writers, massive folios and quartos of bygone erudition,
and reads the now quite forgotten names on the title-
pages, one cannot but heave a sigh of regret that these
Dr Alexander Murray. 209
diligent students should have sunk into such total obscur-
ity, that their works should now be so utterly neglected,
and, if valued at all, only valued for bibliographical
reasons, and not for the merit of their contents. What
is good in them has long since been incorporated in the
writings of later scholars ; the utmost attention they now
receive is a chance reference in a note, or a brief mention
in a catalogue. Yet these works, though now superseded,
were by no means useless : they served their purpose in
their day and generation, and helped to advance the
cause of scholarship at the time. A far sadder sight is
it to see a book to which the author devoted the labour
of a lifetime, round which his fondest aspirations were
centred, by which he hoped that his name might be
carried down to posterity as one whose toil had not been
in vain, but had been rewarded with glorious results;
but which, nevertheless, is founded upon an utterly false
theory, never made any one who read it one whit the
wiser, and is never mentioned, if mentioned at all, save
as an example of the absurd speculations into which
learned men sometimes fall. Such a book is the " History
of European Languages " by
DR ALEXANDER MURRAY,
an erudite and excellent man, the story of whose career
is so remarkable and so stimulating as to well deserve a
brief record.
Murray himself has recorded the history of his youthful
struggles in a narrative minute almost to tediousness.
It is well-nigh impossible to imagine any one born in
circumstances affording less opportunity for acquiring
learning than he was. The son of a shepherd at Dun-
terrick, in the county of Galloway, whose whole property
Q
210 Great Scholars.
consisted of two or three scores of sheep and four muir-
land cows — he had literally no money — his early years
were spent in an atmosphere of material and intellectual
penury. In 1781, when he was six years old, his father
purchased for him a Shorter Catechism, which, as was
common, also contained the alphabet. This precious
document — price one penny — was, however, considered
too valuable to be used on ordinary occasions, so his
father taught him the letters by writing them on the back
of an old wool-card with the end of a burned heather
stem. Murray, who appears to have been gifted with a
singularly good memory, rapidly learned the elements of
reading and writing, and his fame for wondrous reading
and extraordinary acquirements soon became the talk of
the whole glen. His father was quite unable to send
him to school ; luckily, however, a brother of his mother
came to visit his family, and, being informed of the lad's
talents, placed him in 1784 at the school of New Galloway,
where he made rapid proficiency. A severe illness put
a stop to his school career after he had attended six
months, and for the four ensuing years he was obliged to
be his own instructor, devouring eagerly the few books
that fell in his way. In 1788 he began to give irregular
attendance at the school of Minnigaff, where he mastered
the elements of French and Latin. He was fortunate
enough to purchase at the low price of eighteenpence a
copy of " Ainsworth's Dictionary," which had all the Latin
words, with the corresponding Greek and Hebrew ; also
a plan of ancient Rome, and a dictionary of proper
names. " I literally read the dictionary throughout," he
says. " My plan was to revolve the leaves of the letter
A, to notice all the principal words, and their Greek
synonymes, not omitting a glance at the Hebrew; to do
the same by B, and so on through the book." This re-
Dr Alexander Murray. 2 1 1
minds us of what is told of the great German scholar
Wolf, that he read through from beginning to end Falri
Thesaurus, an enormous folio, the like of which is never
published in these degenerate days.
To those who labour as Murray laboured success is
sure to come. He soon became able to read Latin and
Greek with tolerable fluency, to which he afterwards
added a slight knowledge of Hebrew, a little Anglo-
Saxon, and a little Welsh. " My practice was," he says,
" to lay down a new and difficult task after it had wearied
me, to take up another, then a third, and to resume the
rotation frequently and laboriously." All this time he
endeavoured to eke out his scanty means of subsistence
by teaching the children of such of the surrounding
farmers as would employ him. As might be expected,
his knowledge was more distinguished by width than
accuracy. He confesses that, though he certainly knew
" a great deal of words and matters," his prosody was
bad, and his English neither fluent nor elegant. The
number of Greek and Latin authors he ranged through
was something extraordinary, and, indeed, if studied with
due care and accuracy, would have occupied him half a
lifetime. He himself defends the practice of desultory
study, yet it cannot be doubted that if he had received
proper scholastic training, or if he had inured himself to
severe mental discipline, he would afterwards have accom-
plished work of much greater value than he did.
Following the usual custom of those who read many
books, Murray began to think of writing one. " In the
autumn of 1792," he writes, "I had, in the hour ot
ignorance and ambition, believed myself capable of writ-
ing an epic poem. For two years before, or rather from
the time that I had met with ' Paradise Lost,' sublime
poetry was my favourite reading. Homer had encouraged
212 Great Scholars.
this taste, and my school-fellow, George Mure, had lent
me, in 1791, an edition of Ossian's ' Fingal,' which is, in
many passages, a sublime and pathetic performance. I
copied ' Fingal,' as the book was lent only for ten days,
and carried the MS. about with me. I chose Arthur,
general of the Britons, for my hero, and during the
winter 1792-93 wrote several thousands of blank verses
about his achievements. This was my first attempt in
blank verse. In 1790 I had purchased ' The Grave,' a
poem by Blair, and committed it almost entirely to
memory."
The epic of Arthur went the way of most similar pro-
ductions. It was burned by the author the following
year. However, his literary ardour was not quenched.
He began to translate Buchanan's " Fratres Francis-
cani," and in 1701 having bought for a trifle a MS.
volume of the lectures of Arnold Drackenburg, a German
professor, on the lives and writings of the Roman authors,
he resolved to translate it. " I remained at home during
the winter of 1793-94," he writes, " and employed myself
in that task. My translation was neither elegant nor
correct. My taste was improving ; but a knowledge of
elegant phraseology and correct diction cannot be ac-
quired without some acquaintance with the world and
with the human character in its polished state. The
most obscure and uninteresting parts of the ' Spectator,'
'World,' 'Guardian,' and 'Pope's Works,' were those
that described life and manners. The parts of those
works which I then read with rapture were accounts of
tragic occurrences, of great but unfortunate men, and
poetry that addressed the passions. In spring 1794 I
got a reading of ' Blair's Lectures.' The book was lent by
Mr Strang, a relief clergyman, to William Hume, and
sublent to me. In 1793 I had seen a volume of an en-
Dr Alexander Murray. 2 1 3
cyclopaedia, but found very considerable difficulties in
making out the sense of obscure scientific terms with
which those books abound.
" Early in 1794 I resolved to go to Dumfries, and pre-
sent my translation to the booksellers there. As I had
doubts respecting the success of a ' History of the Latin
Writers,' I likewise composed a number of poems,
chiefly in the Scotch dialect, and most of them very in-
different. I went to Dumfries in June 1794, and found
that neither of the two booksellers there would undertake
to publish my translation ; but I got a number of sub-
scription papers printed in order to promote the publica-
tion of my poems. I collected by myself and friends
four or five hundred subscriptions. At Gatehouse, a
merchant there, an old friend, gave me a very curious
and large printed copy of the Pentateuch, which had be-
longed to the celebrated Andrew Melville, and the
Hebrew Dictionary of Pagninus, a huge folio. During
the visit to Dumfries I was introduced to Robert Burns,
who treated me with great kindness, and told me that if
I could get out to college without publishing my poems
it would be better, as my taste was young and not formed,
and I would be ashamed of my productions when I
could write and judge better. I understood this, and re.
solved to make publication my last resource. In Dum-
fries I bought six or seven plays of Shakespeare, and
never read anything except Milton with more rapture
and enthusiasm."
Murray was now nineteen, and had perhaps amassed
as large a store of miscellaneous linguistic information as
any youth of his age in the kingdom. The fame of his
singular acquirements soon began to spread abroad beyond
the limited circle of his acquaintances, and at length
came to the ears of some gentlemen in Edinburgh, who
2 1 4 Great Scholai'S.
resolved to help him if his learning was found corre-
sponding to what they had heard. He was accordingly
invited to Edinburgh, where he underwent an examina-
tion before Dr Baird, Dr Finlayson, and Dr Moodie,
clergymen of the city, on which occasion he read and
analysed with accuracy a passage of French, an ode of
Horace, a page of Homer, and a Hebrew psalm. So
well did he acquit himself that these gentlemen procured
him the advantages of university education without
expense, and likewise obtained for him such pecuniary
aid as was necessary. After he had attended college for
two years he obtained a bursary from the city, by means
of which, and such sums as he could obtain by his
labours as a private teacher, and his occasional contribu-
tions to the periodical publications of the day, he was
able to support himself with some degree of independ-
ence.
Murray's talents soon made him known to the brilliant
literary circle which then adorned Edinburgh. Among
his intimate friends were Jeffrey, Brougham, Campbell,
Dr Thomas Brown, and, above all, Leyden. Leyden and
he were kindred spirits, and it is not surprising to learn
that Murray once observed to Dr Anderson, that there was
nobody in Edinburgh whom he would be so much afraid
to contend with in languages and philology as Leyden ;
and that Leyden, without knowing this, once expressed
himself in the same terms in commendation of Murray's
learning. His intimacy with Jeffrey led him to contri-
bute three articles to the " Edinburgh Review," none of
them of any great importance.
When his Arts course was over, Murray applied himself
to the study of theology, that he might qualify himself to
become a minister of the church. During the whole of
his college career every spare minute was given to the
Dr Alexander Murray. 2 1 5
prosecution of his favourite studies. He mastered all the
European languages, besides devoting considerable atten-
tion to Sanscrit, and the more recondite dialects of the
east. His biographer relates that his astonishing facility
in the acquisition of languages enabled him to attain in
a few months what would have been beyond the reach of
ordinary talents and of common industry during the
longest life. At this time he was an occasional contri-
butor to the "Scots Magazine," for which he wrote
numerous contributions in prose and verse. About the
beginning of this century Constable, the proprietor, asked
him to become its principal editor, which he consented
to do.
In 1802 Murray's singular linguistic attainments
pointed him out to the booksellers as a suitable person
to edit a new edition of Bruce's " Travels to Discover
the Source of the Nile." He not only knew Abyssinian,
but had even a thorough mastery of its principal dialects
as actually spoken. While engaged on this work, which
occupied him about three years, he resided chiefly at
Kinnaird House, where he had access to Bruce's papers
and manuscripts. To this edition, which appeared in
1805, he added a life of the traveller, which was after-
wards published separately. This publication advanced
Murray's reputation as a philologist considerably. So
unique were his acquirements that in 181 1 he was applied
to, as the only person in the British dominions adequate
to the task, to translate a letter written in Geez from the
governor of Tygre to the King of Great Britain. He
acquitted himself of this task in a very satisfactory manner.
In 1806, Murray, who had for some time been licensed
as a preacher, was appointed assistant and successor to
Dr James Muirhead, minister of Urr and, on the death
of Dr Muirhead, two years afterwards, became minister of
2 1 6 Great Scholars.
the parish. He discharged his pastoral duties faithfully
and conscientiously, though his devotion to philology con-
tinued as ardent as ever. His correspondence with his
friends had always some reference to his favourite studies.
A vacancy occurring in the chair of Oriental Languages
in Edinburgh University, by the death of Dr Moodie,
one of his early patrons, Murray announced himself as a
candidate. He obtained excellent testimonials from some
learned Orientalists, as well as from' Dugald Stewart,
Jeffrey, Sir Walter Scott, Dr Thomas Brown, and many
others of considerable reputation. After a keen struggle
he was elected by the narrow majority of two votes. No
doubt he was by far the most suitable man for the office,
but the election was in the hands of the Town Council,
and private influence was often much more efficacious
than learning or talents. A few days after his appoint-
ment the University conferred on him the degree of D.D.
Murray was now at last in a situation where his pecu-
liar talents could find full scope. He immediately set to
work, and prepared an elementary treatise, " Outlines of
Oriental Philology," for the use of the members of his
class, which was attended not only by divinity students,
but by many literary men and others, who were anxious
to hear the prelections of so celebrated an Orientalist.
But just when a brighter and more useful career seemed
to be opening out to him, he was stricken down by dis-
ease. In February 1813 a pulmonary complaint, with
which he had been previously affected, became so violent
as to prevent his attendance in the class-room. He
gradually grew worse and worse, till on the 15th April
18 1 3, he expired, at the early age of thirty-seven.
Murray is an example of a pretty numerous class of
men whose lives are considerably more important than
their works. A man of the most energetic persevering
Dr Alexander Murray. 2 1 7
character, who was turned aside by no obstacle and
daunted by no opposition, his life affords a useful lesson
to all. Save his remarkable linguistic faculty, he does
not appear to have been distinguished by brilliant talents,
and, as has been said before, his magnum opus is of no
value whatever. It was published after his death, in
1823, by Dr Scott of Corstorphine, who appears to have
formed a very exaggerated idea of its merits. It is
entitled, " History of the European Languages, or Re-
searches into the Affinities of the Teutonic, Greek, Celtic,
Sclavonic, and Indian Nations." In it he undertakes to
prove that all the languages of Europe may be traced to
a single radical dialect, which may be analytically put
into a few monosyllables, nine in number, which may, in
turn, be reduced to one ag or 7cag, which, he thinks, was
probably the first articulate sound. Murray is by no
means the only one who has mounted a philological
hobby-horse; and when we consider that in his time there
was, properly speaking, no science of language, we should
not be too harsh in our criticisms. " So far," says Dr
Browne, "is Dr Murray's system from being 'demonstrated
truth,' or even ' looking very like it,' as his editor has
fondly imagined, that it appears to be equally absurd,
fanciful, and visionary, a sort of solemn, though, of
course, unintentional, burlesque on the extravagancies of
etymologists ; and, independently of all other considera-
tions, it is liable to this insuperable objection, that it
proceeds upon an assumption of identity among languages
which differ entirely in their grammatical structure and
composition, as well as in their vocabularies, and which
have nothing in common except some few terms which
have been interchanged in the course of war, conquest,
and commercial relations." This is all quite true, and
much the same might be said about many other linguistic
2 r 8 Great Scholars.
theories that have been much more talked of than
Murray's. The best that can be said of his treatise is,
that it bears witness to his laborious research, and his
extremely wide acquaintance with languages of all kinds.
If his life had been spared, work of a much more solid
and enduring kind might have been expected of him.
DR ALEXANDER ADAM
is another instance of one who attained great learning
in spite of many opposing circumstances. His father
occupied a small farm near Forres, and there Adam was
born in June 1741. From his earliest years he mani-
fested a love of knowledge and a fondness for books
which augured well for his success in the future. Adam
was mainly self-educated; for his father does not appear
to have been distinguished by any extraordinary degree of
intelligence, and the attainments of his schoolmaster were
so slender, that from him he could obtain but little assist-
ance after the elements of knowledge had been acquired.
The ardent young student, ere he was sixteen, borrowed
from a neighbouring clergyman a copy of the small
Elzevir edition of Livy, and before daybreak, during the
mornings of winter, by the light of splinters of wood,
perused the whole of this classic, passing over such
passages as he could not construe by the help of " Cole's
Dictionary." In 1757 he tried his luck at the Aberdeen
bursary competition, but as the bursaries were awarded
for the best written exercises, and he had had no expe-
rience in composition, he was unsuccessful. The follow-
ing year, the Rev. Mr Watson, a relative of his mother,
sent him an invitation to come to Edinburgh, " provided
he was prepared to endure every hardship for a season."
It need scarcely be said that Adam eagerly closed with
Dr Alexander Adam. 219
this offer. Mr Watson procured him free admission to
the lectures of the University professors, but there his
assistance ended. For a considerable time, while attend-
ing the College classes, Adam's sole means of subsist-
ence consisted of one guiuea per quarter, which he ob-
tained for acting as private tutor to Alan Macconochie,
afterwards Lord Meadowbank. " At this time," writes
his biographer, " he lodged in a small room at Restalrig,
in the north-eastern suburbs, and for this accommodation
he paid fourpence a week. All his meals, except dinner,
uniformly consisted of oatmeal made into porridge, to-
gether with small-beer, of which he only allowed himself
half a bottle at a time. When he wished to dine, he
purchased a penny loaf at the nearest baker's shop ; and,
if the day was fair, he would despatch his meal in a walk
to the Meadows or Hope Park, which is adjoining to the
southern part of the city ; but if the weather was foul, he
had recourse to some long and lonely stair, which he
would climb, eating his dinner at every step. By this
means all expense for cookery was avoided, and he
wasted neither coal nor candles ; for, when he was chill,
he used to run till his blood began to glow, and his even-
ing studies were always prosecuted under the roof of
some one or other of his companions." Such a narra-
tive as this would only be spoiled by comment.
After attending the university for eighteen months,
during which he was able by assiduous application to
make up for the defects of his early teaching, Adam was
appointed head -master of George Watson's Hospital
at Edinburgh. In this situation he remained for three
years, during which, besides discharging the duties of his
office, he read critically the works of Herodotus, Thucy-
dides, Xenophon, Cicero, and Livy. On being asked to
become tutor to the son of Mr Kincaid, afterwards Lord
220 Great Scholars.
Provost of Edinburgh, he severed his connection with
Watson's Hospital. In 1765 he became, through the
influence of Mr Kincaid, assistant to Mr Matheson,
the Rector of the High School; and on his retirement
in 1 77 1, Adam was entrusted with the rectorship.
Many old pupils have borne testimony to the excellent
way in which Adam discharged the duties of his respon-
sible office ; among others, Sir Walter Scott, who, in his
fragment of autobiography, has left some pleasing re-
miniscences of him. " After having been three years
under Mr Fraser," he says, " our class was, in the usual
routine of the school, turned over to Dr Adam, the
rector. It was from this respectable man that I first
learned the value of the knowledge I had hitherto con-
sidered only as a burdensome task. It was the fashion
to remain two years at his class, where we read Caesar,
and Livy, and Sallust, in prose ; Virgil, Horace, and
Terence, in verse. I had by this time mastered, in some
degree, the difficulties of the language, and began to be
sensible of its beauties. This was really gathering grapes
from thistles ; nor shall I soon forget the swelling of my
little pride when the rector pronounced, that though
many of my school-fellows understood the Latin better,
Gualterus Scott was behind few in following and enjoying
the author's meaning. . . . Dr Adam, to whom I owed
so much, never failed to remind me of my obligations
when I had made some figure in the literary world. He
was, indeed, deeply imbued with that fortunate vanity
which alone could induce a man who has arms to pare
and burn a muir, to submit to the yet more toilsome task
of cultivating youth. As Catholics confide in the im-
puted righteousness of their saints, so did the good old
Doctor plume himself upon the success of his scholars in
life ; all of which he never failed (and often justly) to
Dr Alexander Adam. 221
claim as the creation, or at least the fruits, of his early
instructions. He remembered the fate of every boy at
his school during the fifty years he had superintended it,
and always traced their success or misfortunes entirely to
their attention or negligence when under his care. His
' noisy mansion,' which to others would have been a
melancholy bedlam, was the pride of his heart ; and the
only fatigues he felt, amidst din and tumult, and the
necessity of reading themes, hearing lessons, and main-
taining some degree of order at the same time, were
relieved by comparing himself to Caesar, who could
dictate to three secretaries at once, — so ready is vanity
to lighten the labours of duty. It is a pity that a man so
learned, so admirably adapted for his station, so useful,
so simple, so easily contented, should have had other
subjects of mortification. But the magistrates of Edin-
burgh, not knowing what a treasure they possessed in Dr
Adam, encouraged a savage fellow, named Nicol, one of
the under-masters, in insulting his person and authority.
This man was an excellent classical scholar, and an
admirable convivial humourist (which latter quality re-
commended him to the friendship of Burns), but worth-
less, drunken, and inhumanly cruel to the boys under his
charge. He carried his feud against the rector within an
inch of assassination, for he waylaid and knocked him
down in the dark. The favour which this worthless rival
obtained in the town-council led to the consequences
which for some time clouded poor Adam's happiness and
fair fame."
From this it will be seen that Adam's situation as
rector of the High School was not altogether a bed of
roses. In 1772 he published his " Rudiments of English
and Latin Grammar," in which his idea was to connect
the study of English Grammar with that of the Latin, as
222 Great Scholars.
the Romans joined the grammar of their own language
with that of the Greek. " It is particularly necessary,"
he says in the preface, " in Scotland to pay attention to
the English in conjunction with the Latin, as, by neglect-
ing it, boys at school learn many improprieties in point
of grammar, as well as of pronunciation, which it is diffi-
cult in after-life to correct." This union of Latin and
English Grammar was considered a great innovation, and
Adam shared the common fate of innovators, by being bit-
terly assailed for what was considered a daring schism
and heresy. Among the many opponents whom this little
book raised up against him was Dr Gilbert Stuart, a man
who rendered considerable talents infamous by the base
and ill-natured use he almost invariably made of them.
Stuart was a relative of Ruddiman, whose " Grammar "
Adam's had supplanted, and, as an additional incentive
to hostility, he conceived that Adam had been raised to
the rectorship more by influence than by merit. He
accordingly assaulted our unfortunate hero in all the
periodical works of the day to which he could obtain
access. To such a height did the controversy about the
grammar rise, that in 1786 the magistrates of Edinburgh
issued an order directing the rector and the other masters
of the High School to instruct their scholars by Ruddi-
man's " Rudiments and Grammar," and prohibiting every
other grammar of the Latin language from being made
use of. Adam, however, disregarded this and a subse-
quent order to the same effect, and continued to use his
own rules without being further interrupted. He adopted
the following curious method of recommending his
" Grammar." When he wished his pupils to use it, he
used to say, "This is a prohibited book, and I do not
wish, nor have I ever been under the necessity, to force
it into use. There are a few questions which I wish to
Dr A lexa nder Adam. 223
propose, and if you can answer them I am content ; but
if you cannot, I must refer you to my grammar for the
means of enabling you to give me a reply.'' For all the
slights to which his " Grammar " was subjected, Adam
was partly compensated by the degree of LL.D., which
was conferred on him by Edinburgh University in 1780,
chiefly at the suggestion of Principal Robertson, and by
the approbation bestowed on it by such men as Lord
Kames, Bishop Lowth, and Dr Vincent.
In 1 79 1 appeared Adam's work on " Roman Antiqui-
ties," which, until quite recently, was the standard class-
book on the subject. For it he received ^600, not
very much when we consider what an immense labour it
must have been. Few books of the same size contain so
large a mass of useful information ; information, too, of
a kind then not to be obtained except by researches into
innumerable books, for, when Adam wrote, the whole
department of Roman Antiquities was one confused
chaos, which he was about the first to reduce to some
sort of order and system. Adam's next work was a
" Summary of Geography and History," published in
1794, a thick octavo volume of nine hundred pages, con-
taining a summary of all history, ancient and modern,
with the manners and customs of the various nations ;
the mythology of the Greeks ; the geography of all ages
and all countries, including even the local situations
of remarkable cities ; and an account of the progress of
astronomy and geography, from the earliest periods to
the present time, with a description of the planetary
system. Large as the volume is, it is not large enough
for a fully detailed account of so many things, and the in-
formation given is sometimes very imperfect, though,
upon the whole, the work reflects the highest credit
upon the writer's industry and width of information. A
224 Great Scholars.
more useful work was a treatise on " Classical Bio-
graphy," which appeared in 1800, and which, although its
sale was more limited than that of any of Adam's other
works, is said to have been, in the department of Roman
history, decidedly the best work of the kind in the lan-
guage at the time of its publication. The last of Adam's
productions was his "Latin Dictionary," published in 1805,
a very useful book, though in parts somewhat inconveni-
ently arranged. Taking a general view of all Dr Adam's
works, and looking at their whole scope and tendency,
we are safe to say that no writer in Britain has ever done
more to assist the young student of Latin. If he had
devoted himself to the higher departments of learning,
in which he was well qualified to excel, he might,
perhaps, have obtained a wider fame among scholars,
but his life could not have been more usefully spent
than it was.
When the French Revolution broke out, Dr Adam,
whose opinions were of a strongly liberal complexion,
incautiously let fall some words of sympathy with the
revolutionists. This, as Scott says, was very natural, for
as all his ideas of existing governments were derived from
his experiences of the town-council of Edinburgh, it
must be admitted that they scarce brooked comparison
with the free states of Rome and Greece, from which he
borrowed his opinions concerning republics. But, unfor-
tunately, his want of caution in speaking on the political
topics of the day, lost him the respect of the boys, most
of whom were accustomed to hear very different opinions
expressed in the bosom of their families, and he became
so obnoxious a person, that many of those who had been
his pupils passed him in the street without recognition.
However, we have the testimony of his biographer that
his character derived a lustre of no common kind from
Dr Alexander Adam. 225
his deportment amidst the harassing obstructions that
were raised up against his philological lessons, and from
his firmness during the reign of political terrorism. " He
had to cope with prejudice in its most malignant forms ;
yet in maintaining a contest, under which the powers of
an ordinary mind would have sunk, he never absented
himself from his official avocations for a single day.
When he had thus fulfilled his duties to the public, he
continued, with the utmost calmness, his extensive classi-
cal researches. This composure of mind he must have
derived from no other source than a full conviction of
the rectitude of those principles upon which he set out,
and of the propriety of his conduct. Such a conviction
must have been strengthened, and in a great measure
formed, by the previous habit of proving to himself, by a
course of rigid self-examination, the expediency or im-
propriety of every act before it was committed. Exer-
tions of this sort can only be made by a most vigorous
mind. When they have been improved into regular
habits, however, the great affairs of human life become
plain and easy. But how few ever attain such habits,
and how seldom does the mind submit to such discipline,
without much apparent effect."
However, Dr Adam soon got over the hostility he had
unwittingly excited against himself, and in his latter days
no citizen of Edinburgh was more generally esteemed
than he. So deeply did he take to heart the lesson he
had received against indulging in political controversy,
that he even abstained in great measure from reading
newspapers, a species of publication in which, he would
remark, he felt scarcely any interest after the period of the
French Revolution. In December 1809, the amiable old
man was seized with an attack of apoplexy, and died
after lingering for a few days. His last words were, " It
R
226 Great Scholars.
grows dark, boys, — you may go." His mind had reverted
to the scene where he had spent the better part of his
life, and to which the greater part of his hopes and
anxieties had always been directed. It was a fitting con-
clusion to a noble and useful career.
Few men have ever died so universally lamented as
Dr Adam. The general feeling of his old pupils was
well expressed by one of the most promising of their
number, Francis Horner, in an obituary notice of him
which he wrote for an English newspaper. " His long
life," he writes, " was to its very close an unremitted
course of labour in the service of the public ; all the
leisure which the duties of his office left him being de-
voted to the composition of works for improving the
methods of classical education in Scotland, but which
were found to be so useful and accurate, that they have
been received with approbation and adopted in this
country. To the most unwearied application, he joined
an enthusiasm for learning and for the liberties of man-
kind, and possessed the most perfect independence and
integrity of mind. The men who were educated in that
school during his time, will long remember how he
inspired the boys both with an attachment to himself
and to the pursuits in which he instructed them, and
will always regard his memory with affection and grati-
tude." The magistrates of Edinburgh made some
atonement for the sins of their predecessors by honour-
ing Dr Adam's remains with a public funeral.
Mr Henderson, the writer of Dr Adam's " Life," has
described his personal appearance as that of a scholar
who dressed neatly for his own sake, but who had never
incommoded himself with fashion in the cut of his coat,
or in the regulation of his gait. Upon the street he often
appeared in a studious attitude ; and in winter always
Dr James Melvin. 227
walked with his hands crossed, and thrust into his sleeves.
His features were regular and manly, and he was above
the middle size. In his well-formed proportions, and in
his firm, regular pace, there appeared the marks of
habitual temperance. So attractive are his manners said
to have been, that no man could leave his company with-
out declaring that he loved Dr Adam.
In truth, he appears to have been a singularly lovable
character, a man of the same stamp as Fielding's " Parson
Adams," learned in classic lore, but ignorant of the world
and guileless as a child. Those who have looked at the
print taken from Sir Henry Raeburn's portrait of Dr
Adam, will quite agree with what is said above as to his
personal appearance. An amiable vanity adds some-
thing to the charm which surrounds Adam's character.
We cannot help loving him all the more when we read
that he was wont to tell many amusing anecdotes to his
class, and that he was very frequently the hero of his
own tale. Certainly classical learning had effected in
him what in many it has not effected, in spite of the
axiom — it had, indeed, softened his manners, and not
allowed him to be ferocious. The bitter experiences of
his youth, instead of souring his nature, seem only to
have made him more gentle, more tolerant, and more
sympathizing.
A kindred spirit to Adam, in many ways, was
DR JAMES MELVIN,
whose great Latin scholarship is a sort of tradition
in the north of Scotland. Perhaps it may seem to
require some apology to include a man like Melvin
228 Great Scholars.
in a series of lives of great scholars ; for the only
book he published is not of an important nature, and
his celebrity never extended beyond a limited circle.
Nevertheless, Melvin was really a great scholar, and
better deserved the name than many who have been
much more celebrated than he was. A distinguished
pupil of his, Professor Masson, has done something to
rescue his memory from unmerited oblivion, by some
genial and appreciative recollections of him contributed
to Macmillaris Magazine in 1863, from which the follow-
ing sketch is compiled.
The facts of Melvin's life are soon told. He was born
in Aberdeen, in 1794, of poor parents, and after passing
through the ordinary Grammar School and College course,
was appointed usher at a private academy at Udny, and
then under-master in Old Aberdeen Grammar School.
In 1822 he was invited by his old master, Nicoll, then
in declining health, to be head assistant in the Aberdeen
Grammar School; and, on NicolPs death, he was appointed
to succeed him, after a public competition, in which he
distanced the other candidates, and won extraordinary
applause from the judges. The rector, Cromar, dying
in 1826, Melvin, though the youngest under master,
again, by public competition, won the unanimous appoint-
ment, and in that year, at the age of thirty-two, was
installed into the post, which he held till death. Shortly
after this he was appointed to the Latin Lectureship in
Marischal College. Such is a very brief outline of
Melvin's life, which we regret having no materials to fill
up a little more fully. To give Professor Masson's
admirable narrative in other words than his own, would
be doing it great injustice; in what follows, therefore, we
shall use his language with a few slight alterations and
abridgments.
Dr yames Melvin. 229
Whatever start he may have had in the lessons of
Nicoll and Cromar, and whatever firmer grasp of rudi-
mentary Latin he may have got by teaching it at Udny,
and under M'Lauchlan in Old Aberdeen, Melvin's scholar-
ship must have been the result of an amount of reading
for himself utterly unusual in his neighbourhood. The
proof of this exists in the superb library, one of the
wonders of Aberdeen, which, even with his moderate
means, he had managed to collect around him. There
was nowhere in that part of Scotland, probably nowhere
in all Scotland, such another private library of the classic
writers, and of all commentaries, lexicons, scholiasts, and
what not, appertaining to them. To see him in his large
room in Belmont Street, every foot of the wall-space of
which, from the floor to the ceiling, and even over the
door and between the windows, was occupied with books
filling the exactly-fitted book-shelves, was at once a treat
and a revelation to a native of these parts. And the
collection of this library must have been begun early in
his life. His sister, who was considerably his junior,
says that her first recollections were " not so much
recollections of him, as of books and him." From the
first he had catalogues of books sent to him from all
quarters, and he was always purchasing. He had com-
plete sets of the fine old editions of the Latin classics,
Dutch and English, with some of the later German, and
his collection of mediaeval Latin literature was probably
the completest in Scotland. The most obscure and out-
of-the-way names were all represented. In Greek litera-
ture his collection was nothing like so full ; there were
even extraordinary gaps in it. Among the Latins, he
abounded most in editions of Horace, having, as he
once told a friend, Professor Geddes, a copy of Horace
for every day in the year. And so, among these Latin
230 Great Scholars.
classics, and the commentators and grammarians of all
ages illustrating them, he had read and read, till, at the
time of his appointment to the Grammar School Rector-
ship, his knowledge of Latinity was probably already
more extensive, deep, subtle, and delicate than that of
any other scholar within the limits of North Britain. It
may be mentioned that Melvin's library was bequeathed
to Marischal College, Aberdeen, where the old dust-
covered volumes may be inspected by the curious.
Of Melvin's method of teaching Latin, Professor
Masson has given an interesting account. A large
portion of the work of his classes consisted, of course,
of readings in the Latin authors, in continuation of what
had been read in the junior classes. Here, unless per-
chance he began with a survey of the grammar, to see
how his pupils were grounded, and to rivet them afresh
to the rock, they first came to perceive his essential
peculiarities. Accuracy to the last and minutest word
read, and to the nicest shade of distinction between two
apparent synonyms, was what he studied and insisted on,
and this always with a view to the cultivation of a taste
for pure and classic, as distinct from Brummagem Latinity.
The authors chosen were few and select, chiefly Caesar
and Livy among the prose writers, and Virgil, Horace,
and Buchanan's Psalms among the poets. The quantity
read was not large — seldom more than a page a day.
But every sentence was gone over at least five times,
first read aloud by the boy that might be called on; then
translated word for word with the utmost literality, each
Latin word being named as the English equivalent was
fitted to it ; then rendered as a whole, somewhat more
freely and elegantly, but still with no permission of that
slovenly and soul-ruining practice of translation which is
called " giving the spirit of the original ; " then analysed
Dr James Melvin. 231
etymologically, each important verb and noun becoming
the text for an exercise up and down, backwards and
forwards, in all appertaining to it ; and lastly, construed,
or analysed in respect of its syntax and idiom, the reasons
of its moods, cases, and what not. In the case of a
poetical reading there was, of course, the further process
of scanning, in which Melvin was, above all, exacting.
So the common reproach against Scottish scholarship,
that Scotchmen have no grounding in quantities, and
say vectigal or vectigal, just as Providence may direct
them at the moment, the Aberdeen Grammar School, at
least, was not liable. A false quantity was even more
shameful in Melvin's code than a false construction, and
it was not his fault if his pupils did not turn out good
prosodians. Of course, in the readings, whether from
the prose writers or the poets, occasion was taken by
Melvin to convey all sorts of minute pieces of elucidation
and historical and biographical information, in addition
to what the boys were expected to have procured for
themselves in the act of preparation ; and in this way a
considerable amount of curious lore — about the Roman
calendar, the Roman wines, and the way of drinking
them, etc. — was gradually and accurately acquired.
Never, either, did Melvin leave a passage of peculiar
beauty of thought, expression, or sound, without rousing
his pupils to a sense of this peculiarity, and impressing
it upon them by reading the passage eloquently and
lovingly, so as to give due effect to it. Over a line like
Virgil's_"description of the Cyclopes working at the anvil,
he would linger with real ecstasy, repeating it again and
again with something of a tremble and excitement in his
grave voice. On the whole, however, Melvin's teaching
of Latin was strictly philological.
In what way the pupils of Melvin had their knowledge
232 Great Scholars.
of Latin put to the test, has been very amusingly de-
scribed by Professor Masson. " Almost from the first
class," he says, "we were practised in making Latin sen-
tences, and even in constructing sentences to be turned
into Latin, with which publicly to puzzle each other.
And very soon, in addition to the printed exercise books
of this kind which we used, there came into play the
agency of what were called 'Versions' — i.e., pieces of
English expressly prepared by the master, to be dictated
to us in the class-room, and there turned into Latin.
But it was in Melvin's classes that this practice of
version-making attained its fullest development. He did
not tax us much in the way of Latin versification, which
was reserved rather for his Marischal College classes, but
our practice in Latin prose competition was incessant.
Two entire days in every week were devoted to ' the Ver-
sions ' ; and these were the days of the keenest emulation.
In anticipation of them, it was our habit to jot down, in
note-books of our own, any specialities of phrase or idiom
upon which Melvin dwelt in the course of our readings.
With these manuscript ' phrase-books/ or ' idiom-books '
(containing, doubtless, much that might have been found
in print, but precious as compiled by ourselves), and with
' Ainsworth's Dictionary ' for our authorised guide under
certain rather numerous cautions and restrictions, we
assembled on the morning of every version day ; and,
sure enough, in the piece of English which Melvin then
dictated to us, there were some of the traps against which
he had recently been warning us. We sat and wrote the
versions — those who were done first going up to Melvin's
desk to have them examined j after which, they became
his assistants in examining the other versions, so as to
clear them all off within the day. In these versions into
Latin, as in the translations from the Latin, closeness to
Dr James Melvin. 233
the original was imperative ; no fraudulent ' giving the
spirit of the original/ so as to elude the difficulty pre-
sented by the letter, was tolerated for a moment. The
system of marking was peculiar. You were classed, not
by any positive merits of ingenuity, elegance, and such
like, but, as in the world itself, by your freedom from
faults or illegalities. There were three grades of error —
the minimus, or, as we called it, the minie, which counted
as one, and which included mis-spellings, wrong choices
of words, etc.; the medius or medie, which counted as two,
and included false tenses and such other slips ; and the
maximus or maxie, which counted as four, and included
wrong genders, a glaring indicative for a subjunctive, etc.
There might, in a single word, be even (horrible event !)
a double maxie, or a combination of maxie or medie, or
maxie and minie. On a maxie in the version of a good
scholar, Melvin was always cuttingly severe. ' Ut . . .
dixit,' he would say, underscoring the two words in a
sentence where the latter should have been diceret. ' Ut
. . . dixit,' he would repeat, refreshing his frown with a
pinch of snuff. ' Ut . . . dixit,' he would say a third
time, with a look in the culprit's face as if he had mur-
dered his father. ' Oh, William, William, you have been
very giddy of late ; ' and William would descend crest-
fallen, and be miserable for half a day." It may be re-
marked that Melvin's system of marking still obtains in
the Granite City, where medies, maxies, and minus are
familiar words among the boys in training for the Uni-
versity.
Like all genuine men, Melvin won the respect and
love of his pupils. They all recognised that his scholar-
ship was really of a deep and solid nature, and looked up
to him accordingly. Stricter or more perfect order than
that which he kept in the two classes which he taught
234 Great Scholars.
simultaneously, it is impossible to conceive, and it was
all done by sheer moral impressiveness, and a power of
rebuke, either by mere glance, or by glance and word
together, in which he was masterly. Doubtless, in his
own heart, Melvin must often have longed for some op-
portunity of displaying the treasures of his scholarship
more widely than he was able to do within the walls of
the Grammar School. His erudition was vast in the
Latin of all styles and epochs, and it must have cost him
severe self-repression to refrain from going into matters
out of the range of beginners. Almost the only indul-
gence in the way of aesthetic criticism he allowed himself,
was the occasional quoting of passages in Burns to illus-
trate Horace.
A slight monument of the style of Melvin's Latin
scholarship, and especially, as a competent critic has
said, of the curiosa dilige?itia in minute matters for which
he was remarkable, remains in a Latin grammar which
he compiled for the school soon after his appointment to
it, and which was used in the school incessantly, from
the lower classes upwards, as supplementary to the Rudi-
ments. This grammar, which went through three edi-
tions, consists, in the first place, of a series of rules in
etymology and prosody, all in Latin hexameters, partly
made by Melvin, partly mended and borrowed by him
from preceding grammars of the kind — the whole of
which had to be got by heart gradually by the boys.
The Latin rules, however, are bedded in an explanatory
English text, elucidating obscure points, and giving addi-
tional information. That so much of Melvin's scholar-
ship died with him, uncommemorated by any work from
his pen in addition to his grammar, or by any sufficient
tradition among his pupils, is a matter for regret. To-
wards a Latin dictionary, on which he was reported to
Dr James Melvin. 235
be engaged, and which was certainly thought of by him
as a worthy labour of his life, we know not whether he
left any materials. A living scholar, who knew him well,
has expressed his regret that he did not, at least, give to
the world an edition of some classic author which might
have preserved some of " those fruits of ripe scholarship,
and those morsels of keen and delicate criticism, which
he had gathered in his long experience ;" and the same
scholar suggests that Statius, " who is in want of such a
service," might have suited the purpose. But in Melvin
the passion for acquisition appears to have conquered
the desire for production.
Melvin was twice a candidate for the Professorship of
Humanity in Marischal College, but in both cases his
hopes were doomed to disappointment. Soon after his
second failure to obtain the coveted post, testimonials
from old pupils and other public demonstrations attested
the sympathy felt for him, and the desire to compensate
as far as possible for his disappointment. In particular,
a testimonial consisting of ^"300 in a silver snuff-box,
was presented to him on the 18th of June 1853, by a
deputation, headed by the Lord Provost of Aberdeen,
which waited upon him in his own house. He thanked
them feelingly, but was in too feeble health to say
much. On Monday the 28th of June, he was in his
place in the school ; but on that day he fainted from
exhaustion, and had to be carried home. The next day
he died in his house in Belmont Street, aged fifty-nine
years. Throughout the whole of the north of Scotland,
the regret felt for his death was deep and universal, and
his old pupils everywhere lamented that their respected
master had died without accomplishing any work which
might carry his name down to posterity. In his influ-
ence over the mind of his scholars, Melvin, in many re-
236 Great Scholars.
spects, seems to have resembled Arnold of Rugby. All
those who enjoyed the benefit of Melvin's tuition looked
on him as the very ideal of a schoolmaster, and all old
" Melvinians" are firmly persuaded that no Latinist, in the
present century at any rate, can be compared to him.
Melvin's personal appearance was well qualified to
command respect. " Grim Plato " was the name he went
by, and it seems, as perhaps school nick-names generally
are, to have been a very appropriate designation. He
was lean but rather tall and well-shouldered, and with a
face of the pale-dark kind, naturally austere, and made
more stern by the marks of the small-pox. His head,
despite his grim and somewhat scarred face, was well
formed, and its short black hair, crisping close round it,
defined its shape exactly, and made it look like an ideal
Roman head. One very un- Roman habit, indeed, Mel-
vin possessed — that of snuff-taking. But though he took
snuff in immoderate quantities, it was as a Roman gentle-
man might have taken it — with all the dignity of the
toga, and every pinch emphatic.
The story of a career of almost uninterrupted success,
and that success richly merited, can hardly fail to be a
pleasant one to relate. Such a career was that of
BISHOP BLOMFIELD,
who did whatever his hand found to do with all his
might from his youth upwards, and whose life affords a
useful lesson to those who imagine that important posi-
tions are to be jumped into or had for the asking, and
that luck is the arbiter of eminence. Charles James
Blomfield was born at Bury St Edmunds on the 29th of
Bishop Blomfield. 237
May 1786, and after receiving the rudiments of his edu-
cation from his father, was sent to the Grammar School
of his native town. Although very delicate, and so
diminutive in stature that his school-fellows gave him the
name of " Tit Blomfield," the activity and brilliance of
his mental faculties amply compensated for his bodily
weakness. To all who asked the clever, sickly-looking
boy what career he intended to follow out in after life,
there was one answer ready — " I mean to be a bishop."
He soon outstripped all his class-fellows in classics, but
this did not content his ambitious spirit. Of his own ac-
cord he studied modern languages, chemistry and botany,
rising at five o'clock in the morning to find time for
these multifarious pursuits. His very recreations were
characteristic. He constructed an electric machine for
his own use, out of which he doubtless contrived to
extract a good deal of amusement ; he scribbled verses,
and he devoted some attention to music. Thus cheer-
fully working on, ever nursing in his breast the great
ambition of his life, Blomfield remained in his native
town till 1804, when he was entered as a pensioner at
Trinity College, Cambridge, where, in the following year,
he gained a scholarship.
Though he had been a diligent student, and though
the school at Bury was a very good one of its kind,
Blomfield soon found that in some important points of
scholarship, particularly in those niceties of grammar and
composition which are so much valued and so difficult
to acquire, he could not hold his own against those
educated at great schools such as Eton. No sooner
was his deficiency found out than he determined to
repair it. He was never the man to own himself van-
quished when it was in the power of human perseverance
to gain the victory. Accordingly, though he had always
238 Great Scholars.
been a severe student, his efforts were now redoubled.
His day, according to his biographer, was generally
thus divided. Rising in time for the early chapel ser-
vice, which he never missed during his under-graduate
life, except when prevented by illness, he began reading
at nine ; at twelve he allowed himself two hours' recrea-
tion, walking or rowing, or occasionally a game at bill-
iards ; and, returning to his books at three, read without
interruption till twelve at night, and occasionally till
three in the morning. Sometimes he alternated his
work, one week sitting up till three, and the next rising
at four. The remonstrances of physicians or friends, who
warned him that he read too hard, were in vain. The
objects which he had set before him must be gained at
whatever sacrifice of time and health. Of his industry
at this period some proofs remain, in the shape of very
elaborate note-books, written with that caligraphy which
scholars had not yet learned to despise. A Bury friend
meeting him in the streets of Cambridge, in a long vaca-
tion, exclaimed : " Why, Charles Blomfield, I believe if
you dropped from the sky you would be found with a
book in your hand."
The results of this labour were soon apparent. In
four months he read through Aristophanes, all the Greek
tragedians, Herodotus, Thucydides, and the greater part
of Cicero. Besides this he made himself an accurate
grammarian, and acquired great skill in Greek and Latin
composition, which he taught himself in the best way
possible— by translating a passage out of some classic
author into English, and, after the interval of a day or
two, retranslating it, that he might compare his own with
the original, a practice which reminds us of the way in
which Buckle made a systematic study of English style.
It cannot be wondered at, that with industry such as this
Bishop Blomfield. 239
Blomfield should have carried off every prize for which
he competed, and should have won the respect of his
tutors and the admiration of his friends. Of the latter,
he soon gathered round him many who afterwards
attained considerable eminence, among them Monk
(the biographer of Bentley), Baron Alderson, Chief Baron
Pollock, and others of distinguished university reputa-
tion. Blomfield had a considerable share of caustic wit
and irony, as we shall afterwards see, which was doubt-
less duly appreciated by his friends. " Few persons,"
writes Chief Baron Pollock, " were equal to him in the
point and liveliness of his talk — yet I never heard him
originate or repeat an expression which, as a bishop, he
could wish unsaid ; and though he largely contributed
to the vivacity of every party where he was present, and
was the author of many witty and smart sayings, which
were handed about, he never forgot the decorum that
belonged to the path of life he had already chosen."
Since, then as now, the principal honours in Cam-
bridge were bestowed on mathematical excellence, about
the close of 1806 Blomfield found it necessary to bestow
more attention than he had hitherto done upon that
study. He had no natural bent of mind towards mathe-
matics — classical literature was the study he really loved ;
but as fame and honour were to be won by their study,
he applied himself to it with characteristic energy,
though in this attempt his tutor and all his friends
united to discourage him. Every one knows how dry
and difficult a study mathematics are to those who have
no inborn talent for them. Blomfield, therefore, de-
serves all the more credit for having attained the success
he did. He came out third wrangler, no contemptible
position under any circumstances, and an extraordinarily
high one for a man to take who had proved himself, by
240 Great Scholars.
winning the Craven Scholarship, to be the best classical
scholar among the under-graduates of his time. Porson
acted as examiner for this scholarship, and among other
passages given to the candidates to translate was a diffi-
cult and corrupt chorus in ^Eschylus, to which he had
applied emendations. Fortunately, Blomfield had read
those emendations and had treasured them up in his
memory, so he was able to make use of them at the pro-
per moment, and thereby to win the admiration and
respect of the great critic. Among the other classical
prizes which Blomfield carried away, were the Chancel-
lor's medal and the members' prize for a Latin disserta-
tion.
In 1809 Blomfield was elected a fellow of Trinity
College. His habits of study continued the same as
before, his ambition at this period being apparently to
win fame by becoming a great verbal critic like Porson.
Perhaps never has the reputation of English scholarship
stood higher than it did at this time. Parr, Charles
Burney, Butler of Shrewsbury, Monk, Dobree, Elmsley,
Maltby, were all names held in high esteem on the Con-
tinent as well as in this country. Among those of the
school which professed to adhere strictly to Porson's
principles, there was no more rising man than Blomfield.
Like most young men he made his first appearance as
an author in the character of a reviewer. Butler of
Shrewsbury, a man of extensive learning, but distin-
guished by no extraordinary vigour of mind, and remark-
able for the interminable prolixity of his notes, published
an edition of ^Eschylus, in which, whether intentionally
or not, he refrained from noticing any of the many emen-
dations of the text of that author which had been proposed
by Porson. This work Blomfield noticed in the Edin-
burgh Revieiv, and gave Butler a most unmerciful troun-
Bishop Blomficld. 241
ing. To this criticism Butler was ill-advised enough to
reply in a pamphlet, in which he defends himself very
feebly against the dexterous thrusts of his adversary, and
is obliged to find vent for his indignation by resorting
to personalities. As Parr and Butler were great friends,
Parr was highly indignant at Blomfield. " What ! " he
exclaimed, " a young man presume to write against Sam
Butler : I'll crush him." However, Parr never even
attempted to crush him, but, instead, soon after entered
upon an amicable correspondence with him. The
manner in which Blomfield repelled the attack made
upon him by Butler reflects great credit on his pru-
dence. He took no notice of it at the time, but when
succeeding volumes of Butler's " y£schylus " came out,
Blomfield again reviewed them in the Edinburgh with
the same unsparing severity, saying at the outset that
neither the example of Dr Butler nor the obvious advan-
tages he [Blomfield] would have in such a contest should
tempt him into a war of personalities, and that he would
proceed to examine the volumes before him with the
same calmness and the same freedom as if he were igno-
rant of the effect of his former animadversions.
This contest with Butler was a mere skirmish com-
pared to the controversy Blomfield had some years after-
wards with Edmund Henry Barker, already mentioned
as the compiler of the Parriana. Of poor Barker the
good and the evil qualities are now alike forgotten, and
even during his lifetime he was censured or neglected
by the leading scholars of our own country, although en-
joying a fair share of reputation on the Continent. He
was born at his father's vicarage of Hollym, in Yorkshire,
in 1778, and entered as a student of Trinity College,
Cambridge, in 1807, where he obtained a medal for Greek
and Latin epigrams, but did not take any degree, having,
s
242 Great Scholars.
it is said, scrupled to take the bachelor's oath. He after-
wards became amanuensis to Dr Parr, at whose residence
at Hatton he remained for several years, and whose
esteem he succeeded in winning. He then married and
settled at Thetford, in Norfolk, from which for nearly
twenty-five years a series of laborious compilations came
out. His last years were marked by painful reverses of
fortune. He lost all his money by a lawsuit, was obliged
to sell his splendid library, and for a time was confined
in a debtor's prison. He died in London in 1839 in a
state of extreme destitution. Barker was a man of great
industry, but he had no taste, no reasoning power, no
accurate scholarship. Besides publishing many editions
of classical authors, he issued a volume in which he
attempted to disprove Sir Philip Francis's authorship of
the letters of Junius, and superintended the English im-
pression of Noah Webster's " English Dictionary."
A great many of the minor lucubrations of Barker ap-
peared in Valpy's " Classical Journal," which carried on
a constant war with the " Museum Criticum," a periodi-
cal started by Blomfield, which sustained a sickly exist-
ence from 1813 to 1832. As Valpy and Barker were
great friends, the " Classical Journal " afforded the latter
an excellent opportunity for indulging in a practice of
which he is said to have been fond — of first criticising
his own essays, and then replying to such criticisms,
and triumphantly refuting them. Valpy was rather an
enterprising publisher of classical books. Among the most
spirited of his undertakings was a reprint of Stephens's
" Thesaurus," commenced in 18 16. Although the editor-
ship of this work was announced as vested in more than
one person, it appears that in reality the laborious duties
of editor were performed by Barker with scarcely any
assistance. The work appeared likely to be a great
Bishop Blomfield. 243
success, as subscribers had been obtained to the extra-
ordinary number of 1100. But Valpy had made a disas-
trous blunder when he chose Barker as editor. When
the first numbers appeared, it was found that they scarcely
contained a word of the original work of Stephens.
Barker had so overlaid the text with extracts and addi-
tions, most of them utterly worthless, that the " The-
saurus " was substantially a new work, and a very careless
and inaccurate work. The first man to open the eyes of
the subscribers as to the real character of the work they
had pledged themselves to take was Blomfield, who re-
viewed it in the Quarterly in 1819.
A criticism of a Greek lexicon does not appear to
afford much scope for wit and pleasantry, yet parts of
Blomfield's article are as amusing as anything of the kind
ever written, and will bear reading even yet by those who
know and care nothing about either Barker or Stephens.
He calculates that, since the 688th page of Valpy's
" Thesaurus " corresponded with the 53rd of the original
edition, the work when complete would occupy at least
fifty good folio volumes, and very probably more, and
that the time which the publication would occupy would
not be less than seventy years, long before which distant
day Messrs Valpy and Barker, together with all the sub-
scribers — printer, editor, readers and critics — would have
been gathered to the Stephenses and Scapulas of other
times. He remarks that it really seemed as if the en-
couragement Valpy and Barker had met with had filled
them with such a lively sense of gratitude, and such
a desire to gratify their kind patrons, that they had
determined to make the " Thesaurus " literally a XTq/xa.
H an, a book to be purchased for ever, a cyclic library,
a publication at once periodical and perennial, compiled
not for the present generation only, but for posterity
244 Great Sc/w/ars.
also — an heirloom to be bequeathed in some such clause
as the following : " Item, I give and bequeath to my dear
son, A. B., all those thirty -three volumes in folio, en-
titled, ' A new and improved edition of Stephens's " The-
saurus/ " being so much of the said work as has been yet
published ; also, I hereby devise to him and to his heirs
for ever, all my right and title in the remaining twenty
or more volumes of the said work, upon the condition of
his or their paying, from time to time, the sum of two
pounds two shillings lawful money of Great Britain, for
each number as it shall come out."
The sensation created by this review was naturally
immense. Many of the subscribers hastened to with-
draw their names ; and Lord Stowell, who was one of
them, told Blomfield that he had well earned from the
body a piece of plate. Murray sent him ^ioo as the
honorarium for his article, and rarely has such a sum
been better earned. Of course the anger of Valpy and
Barker was great. The latter assailed Blomfield in a
scurrilous pamphlet entitled " Aristarchus Anti-Blomfield-
ianus," a performance of incredible silliness, poor in
matter, and offensive in manner. Among many other
absurd things, he said that Mr Blomfield might justly
claim to himself the merit of having with the spirit of an
Indian barbarian conceived the right of revenge to de-
volve on him as the literary representative of the deceased,
and of having presented the red hatchet of war instead
of bearing before him the sacred camulet of peace ! A
reply to Barker appeared in the Quarterly, written, in
part at least, by Blomfield, in which Barker is dealt with
very gently, yet with due severity, as an industrious and
laborious person, who had amassed a considerable quan-
tity of information, which, under the guidance of sound
judgment or of sober advice, might be turned to purposes
Bishop Blomfield. 245
useful to the world and creditable to himself; but which,
from his incredible want of discretion, afforded him but
little prospect of attaining either object. However great
was the animosity of Valpy and Barker to Blomfield, they
prudently took his advice about the introduction of ex-
traneous matter into the "Thesaurus" to heart. It was
completed in ten volumes, the last of which was pub-
lished in 1828.
The disputes carried on between the " Museum Criti-
cum" and the "Classical Journal" brought Blomfield
into antagonism with a man in many respects resembling
Barker — George Burges, a frequent contributor to the
latter periodical. Of their quarrels, only the conclusion
need be mentioned here. Many years after the " Museum
Criticum " and the " Classical Journal " had expired,
Blomfield, when Bishop of London, met his former literary
opponent, and spoke so kindly to him, that Burges wrote
and told him of his necessities. Blomfield immediately set
on foot a subscription for him, and afterwards procured
for him from Lord Melbourne a pension of ^100 a year.
Such is a brief narrative of Blomfield's more notable
literary combats, in all of which he gained a decided vic-
tory over his antagonists. Among the more serious literary
labours he engaged in were an edition of Callimachus,
and the work on which his fame as a scholar mainly rests
— his editions of the plays of ^Eschylus, which are still
referred to with respect. At the time of their publica-
tion they were lauded to the skies both by the Edinburgh
and the Quarterly, and were honoured by being reprinted
in Germany. As a classical scholar Blomfield resembled
Porson in many ways, his notes being of a kind that
appears dry and tedious to all save professional critics,
relating mainly to metrical difficulties and emendations
of the text.
246 Great Scholars.
When Blomfield fixed himself as a Fellow of Trinity
College, he seems to have looked forward to a life of
severe scholarship, but the fates had decreed it other-
wise. In 1 8 10 he fell in love, and married, so that he
was obliged to vacate his fellowship. He was presented
by his father's friend, Lord Bristol, to the rectory of
Quarrington, in Lincolnshire, a poor benefice yielding
only about ^200 a year. This slender income, however,
he was able greatly to increase by taking private pupils,
among whom were numbered some of the elite of the
young aristocracy, including the son of Earl Spencer, the
famous book collector, who testified his sense of Blom-
field's merits by presenting him to the rectory of Dunstan,
in Buckinghamshire, where Blomfield went to reside in
181 1, still retaining, however, his benefice of Quarrington.
Blomfield's life at this time was a busy and a happy one.
He was highly successful as a tutor, he attended sedu-
lously to his pastoral duties, and he managed to find time
for those classical pursuits to which his own tastes natur-
ally inclined. He originated and carried out a scheme
for sending a collection of all that the foremost Graecists
in England had recently accomplished to the celebrated
German scholar, Hermann, the old antagonist of Porson.
A Latin correspondence ensued, in which many friendly
congratulations were exchanged. In 18 10 he published
his edition of the " Prometheus Vinctus," the most cele-
brated of his labours on the text of ^Eschylus. Of it
a highly favourable notice appeared in the Edinburgh
Review, in course of which it was said that Mr Blom-
field, though quite a young man, was likely to rise to
great eminence as a classical scholar, and to excite con-
siderable jealousy in the souls of his unsuccessful com-
petitors for reputation.
In 1 81 7 his old patron, Lord Bristol, presented Blom-
Bishop Blomfield. 247
field to the benefice of Chesterford in Essex, where he
fixed his residence. Chesterford lies upon the great road
between London and Newmarket, and was the place
where, in 18 17, all the carriages and coaches of those
going to the races, which began on Easter Monday,
stopped to change horses, and the inn at which that
operation went on stood exactly opposite the parish
church. It may easily be supposed that the crowds of
people of all ranks and of all kinds of character that
passed through the village on such occasions were often
productive of scenes the reverse of orderly. Blomfield
firmly set his face against the indecency. Among those
with whom he remonstrated was the Duke of York, a
regular frequenter of Newmarket, who replied, " I can't
help it, I must be at my post ; but I never travel on Sun-
day without carrying a Bible and Prayer-Book in the
carriage." How this union of piety and devotion to
horse-racing struck Blomfield we are not informed. His
efforts to do away with the nuisance were not altogether
fruitless. At length, after he had left the place, the
Jockey Club was prevailed on to put off the meeting till
Easter Tuesday.
In 181 6 a great calamity befel Blomfield — the death of
his beloved brother, Edward Valentine, a promising
young scholar, of whom we are told that his intellectual
attainments, though eminent, were yet surpassed by the
excellent qualities of his heart, and that in him the
accomplishments of the scholar and the artist were
heightened and improved by all the gentler feelings of
humanity. A yet heavier blow to Blomfield was the
death of his wife in 18 18, although the exceedingly
delicate state of her health for some years must have in
some degree prepared him for the event. She brought
h im six children, of whom only one attained maturity.
248 Great Scholars.
As was said before, Blomfield's life was one of con-
stant success — ever a passing on from high to higher.
In 1820 Howley, then Bishop of London, presented
him to the living of Bishopsgate, worth rather more than
^2000, and soon after appointed him Archdeacon of
Colchester. As he still retained his other livings,
worth over ^400, Blomfield must now have been in
very comfortable circumstances. As rector of Bishops-
gate he showed all his accustomed energy and activity,
visiting all his parishioners, poor and rich, at their own
homes. His charitable nature was often imposed upon.
During the severe winter of 1822-23, the people were re-
lieved partly according to the number of their families.
Blomfield thought he detected the same children in
different rooms, and at last discovered that, as he went
up and down stairs, the people let down children by the
windows from one storey to another. How busy Blom-
field was about this time appears from a letter he wrote
to Dr Monk in 1823. "I have had on my hands a
course of Lent lectures, an Anti-Catholic petition, the
management of the tithes' question against the citizens of
London ; a weekly committee at Bartlett's Buildings, in
consequence of Dr Gaskin's resignation ; two articles in
the ' British Critic,' &c, &c, all of which I have got
through in the last four or five weeks, and am now ready
for the ' Museum Criticum,' notwithstanding that I have
still to write a Spittal sermon, a sermon for the Magdalen,
three more charity sermons, and my visitation charge, all
within the next month."
In 1 834 Blomfield was elevated to the See of Chester.
As it was then a very poor bishopric, he still kept the
rectory of Bishopsgate. So at length the dream of his
youth was realised. Henceforth we frequently find Blom-
field taking a leading part in the debates in the House of
Bishop Blomfield. 249
Lords, where he distinguished himself as a fluent and
ready speaker. Yet he never could bring himself to
preach anything but elaborately-written sermons. Once
only he attempted to do so, and the result was not such
as to encourage him to make a second trial. Finding
himself one Sunday in his church at Chesterford without
a sermon, he put the best face he could on the matter,
and preached extempore from the text, " The fool hath
said in his heart, There is no God." Curious to ascertain
how he had acquitted himself, he asked an intelligent
rustic after the service how he was pleased with the dis-
course. " Well, Mr Blomfield," was the reply, " I liked
the sermon well enough ; but I can't agree with you. I
think there be a God." This story reminds one of that
of the man who said he had listened to several courses of
lectures on the Evidences, " but, thank heaven, I am still
a Christian."
Blomfield was a very active bishop, although his zeal
was not always tempered by discretion. He set his face
strongly against the holders of pluralities and non-resident
incumbents, apparently heedless of the fact that he him-
self had long been a pluralist and a non-resident incum-
bent. His portrait, painted soon after he became Bishop
of Chester, represented him with a decided frown. Upon
a friend mentioning this to him one day, he replied,
" Yes, that portrait ought to have been dedicated, with-
out permission, to the non-resident clergy of the diocese
of Chester." No doubt Blomfield's reproofs to his de-
linquent clergy would have had more weight if his pre-
cept and practice had been consistent ; however, there is
a great deal of truth in what Johnson said to Lady
Macleod, " People are more influenced by what a man
says if his practice be suitable to it, because they are
blockheads. The more intellectual a people are the
250 Great Scholars.
more they will attend to what a man tells them ; if it is
just they will follow it, be his practice what it will." A
certain brusque manner and sharpness of speech which
Blomfield possessed sometimes offended those who were
not well acquainted with him, and, perhaps, his wit, as
shown in such cases as when on one occasion he over-
came a Quaker's scruples about uncovering in the
vestry, by moving a resolution "that the beadle be
directed to take off Mr 's hat," was not always
appreciated as it might have been. A thoroughly honest
man Blomfield unquestionably was, yet even his honesty
was occasionally doubted. He was a rigid Sabbatarian,
and his extreme views on this point caused him to be
often attacked in the newspapers, where it was said that
though he grudged the poor their pleasures, he was silent
upon Cabinet dinners and the Sunday entertainments of
the rich. In this they did him great wrong, for he
carried his Sabbatarian principles consistently out, and
even refused to dine with William IV. on a Sunday.
On the elevation of Bishop Howley to the Arch-
bishopric of Canterbury in 1828, Blomfield was appointed
Bishop of London. Henceforth his life is wholly that
of an English ecclesiastic, and possesses little general
interest. He took a prominent part in the " Tracts for
the Times " controversy, and got involved in a good
many of the disputes connected with it, which caused
him great annoyance, and seriously affected his health.
If his conduct was not always characterised by wisdom
and moderation, it must be remembered that of few
indeed who bore the brunt of the battle at this troubled
epoch can this be said.
One Sunday in October 1855, just after he had
preached, Blomfield was seized by an attack of paralysis.
He rallied a little, but was obliged to resign his bishopric,
Bishop Blomfield. 251
as, although his mental faculties were unimpaired, he was
physically helpless. He lingered on for nearly two years,
till, on the 5th of August 1857, he expired. " No sooner,"
writes his son, " was the death struggle over than his
features seemed to regain the early beauty of which age
and sickness had bereft them. His fine forehead, so
often lately contracted with pain, lay smooth and un-
wrinkled as an infant's. All appearance of paralysis had
passed away, and the lifeless face in its placid composure
seemed in a moment to have lost twenty years of its age."
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