his mind, as he did desire by the signs that he used for ink and paper, which being brought unto him, and he making offer to write, had no feeling of his pen, for it fell out of his hands. When he perceived his impotency to write, after two or three assays, he fetched a great sigh, and lay down again, and on Wednesday following, at eight of the clock at night, the last of February, 1603, he quietly, and like a lamb, died the servant of Christ. Of the manner of whose death, though some undiscreet men have censured uncharitably, yet we may truly say, as Solon did for the happy ends of Cleobis and Biton, who, in the absence of their mother's oxen, did yoke themselves, and drew her in her car to the temple, and after their sacrifices performed went to bed, and were found the next morning dead, without hurt or sorrow so fared it with this good Archbishop, who wanting the assistance of some who by their place should have undergone with him the charge of guiding and supporting of ecclesiastical affairs, took the yoke and burthen thereof himself, for his mother the Church's sake :-and when he had performed his oblations of prayer and thanksgiving to God, was carried to bed, and there died without suffering hurt or sorrow. Thus he, as Abraham, of whom he was a frue son, "yielded up the

spirit, and died in a good age, an old man, and of great years, and was gathered unto his people." He was Bishop of Worcester, six years and five months, and Archbishop of Canterbury, twenty years and five months.

His funeral was very honourably solemnized at Croydon, the 27th of March following, 1604, where the Earl of Worcester and the Lord Zouch did him the honour in at tending the hearse, and carrying his banners: Dr. Babington, Bishop of Worcester, who likewise was his pupil at Cambridge, made his funeral sermon, and performed that duty with very great commendation, choosing for his text a portion of Scripture most fitting the worthiness of his person. "But Jehoiada waxed old, and was full of days and died. An hundred and thirty years old was he when he died. And they buried him in the city of David with the kings, because he had done good in Israel, and toward God and kis house."

In person he was of a middle stature, of a grave countenance, and brown complexion, black hair and eyes; he wore his beard neither long nor thick. For his small timber, he was of a good quick strength, straight and well shaped in all his limbs, to the habit of his body; which began somewhat to burnish towards his latter years.

ATIONS.

1824.

THERE is no species of literature more generally interesting than bio.

graphy. It is adapted to the most extreme differences of taste. The philosophic moralist, who ponders over every page with anxious severity of thought-or the casual reader, who seeks to add a wing to the passing moment by mere occupation of the mind-finds a delight, which closely engages his attention, in the picture of human life, displayed in the character and circumstances of some distinguished individual.

Biography, in fact, addresses itself more immediately to the heart than historical writing in general, It presents to us occasions and sentiments with which we can fully sympathize. The events which have befallen an individual, are such as may happen to any of us, and such, therefore, as excite the deepest interest, when presented to our notice in any particular instance. The events, on the other hand, which belong to the collective operations of whole communities-though they possess a powerful interest to the contemplative mind, which is able to view them in their connection with the personal character and circumstances of the individual agents concerned in them, and the principles of human nature in generalyet do not so immediately appeal to our sympathy; we look on the scene of public affairs rather as spectators who seek to be amused, than as agents who would know what they should do.

Far be it from us, at the same time, to depreciate the interest which belongs to the noble inditings of the historic muse. There is a feeling of enlargement and elevation imparted to the mind, which, under the guidance of the faithful historian, follows with retrospective eye the movements of nations and empires,

Per varios casus, per tot discrimina

rerum,

and explores the operation of those mighty wheels, by which the moral machinery of the world has been impelled, and brought into that state which comes under our own observation. The grandeur of the subject invests the scenes and the agents which belong to it with a corresponding importance, and we enter, accordingly, with a degree of enthusiasm, into all the detail concerning them. That aspiration after immortality, which is so strong an instinct of our nature, is also indulged in part, while, through the pages of

history, we are enabled to connect ourselves with that portion of eternity which is already past. We are gratified to find that we do not stand on an insulated speck of. time-that though, in appearance, we are but ephemeral beings, we have, in reality, an interest beyond the present moment, and a relation to another state of things.-The connection, moreover, which the rise and fall of the nations of the world has with our individual prosperity-a connection well enforced by Pericles, when, to comfort his dejected countrymen, he told them, it was "better for them to suffer personally while their country collectively was prosperous, than to be prosperous personally while their country was depressed"-gives us a closer interest in the events recorded by the historian than we might, on a superficial consideration, be inclined to suspect.

But while we fully concede to history its powerful attractions, we only claim for biography a more immediate charm, from the strong sympathy which it excites in us for the hero of its narrative. We look in its pages for express precedents for the direction of our conduct. We are anxious, as we read, to see what impression those events of life, which are common to us all, have made on the character of the individual, or what degree of control his character has exercised over them, or how far it has rendered them the materials of good or evil; that we may learn from thence how to improve our own character, and to obtain a moral influence over the affairs of life. We may not, perhaps, expressly propose to ourselves this instruction when we open the volume of biography--or we may be little aware of that process of personal application, which is carried on in the recess of our minds, while we pursue the subject of the memoir through the various events of his history; but when we examine our own hearts in those passages which most forcibly

awaken our sympathy, we shall find them to relate to such occasions as are most incidental to human life, and such, therefore, as afford the most practical lessons for the direction of our conduct. The death-scene of the biographical memoir is a striking illustration of this fact. There is no "moving accident" in the whole narrative, it will be allowed, which commands so deep and breathless an attention. Who, for instance, can have read the admirable sketches of such scenes which Izaak Walton has drawn, and especially that in his life of Hooker, and not felt a solemn delight in contemplating those awful spectacles of Christian triumph? Or, if we recur to still higher authority, to the sacred memorials which the Bible gives us of the patriarch Jacob-how is our attention riveted, when, having followed him through the days of his eventful pilgrimage, we at length stand with his sons around the couch on which he." gathered up his feet, and yielded up the ghost, and was gathered unto his people?" From that imperative decree, which dooms us all to the dust from whence we 'came, we are ever anxious to derive some instruction from those who are gone before us, how to perform our part well, when brought to that expected crisis, through which they have already passed; and hence it is that we listen with such sacred silence to the recital of every action and word which speak the sentiments of the departing soul.

The interest of biography thus arises from its immediate personal importance.--It concerns us to know, how others, of like passions and inclinations with ourselves, have travelled the weary road of life, and borne the weight of human infirmity. Biography accordingly holds a very high station in the ranks of literature. It is in fact a practical philosophy of human life. It presents us with varied exemplification of the mutual relations which human character and the circumstances of

the world bear to each other-and thus enables us, through numerous experiments, to ascertain those principles which shall conduct us successfully through the intricate paths of life. Its office is, by no means therefore, one of trifling and ineffectual labour. It is not without its importance, to know the parentage, the place and period of birth, the scene of education, the abode, the various accidents of life, which belong to the individual subject of the memoir. Not only are these circumstances necessary, to give a peculiarity to the biographical sketch, and as deriving an interest from association with the individual, but as often involving much that has determined the character and fortunes of the man. What we may consider trifles in themselves, are really great matters, when viewed in all their relations. Possibly, indeed, the individual in question may have attained to the same celebrity,-may have been equally distinguished, in the career of civil or military renown,-in the walks of science and literature, or in the devoted tenor of a life eminent in piety and zealous charity,-in circumstances different from those in which he appears to have been ac. tually situated. But this is an inquiry which it belongs not to us to make.-Either the peculiar circumstances of the individual have, or have not, had a visible effect upon the complexion of his life. It is important, therefore, for us to explore these circumstances, that we may at least be in possession of the whole state of the case—and form our estimate of the character, either as tinged by the peculiarity of situation, or as rising superior to the accidental circumstances under which it is exhibited.

As biography aims at practical instruction in the conduct of lifeits sphere of operation is proportionably extended beyond the pro. vince of the historian. The historian can only dilate on such charac

ters, as are essentially connected with the progress of public affairs. The epithet great under its common acceptation, must in some degree belong to the individuals, on whose portraits he is employed. Those who by their counsels, or their arms, have advanced, or depressed, their country among the nations of the world-who have been influential by their actions, or opinions, over the religion, the literature, or the manners of their country, or of the world, are such as demand to be sketched with the bold touches of the historic pencil, and to be held forth as beacons to posterity. But the biographer may descend to the unambitious specimens of private and humble virtue, no less than he may aspire to the delineation of the most splendid patterns of public zeal and usefulness. There must indeed be in every character which he depicts, some ground of distinction above the general stamp of men. There must be at least some reason for the selection of the individual whom he describes, to justify that call which he makes on our attention to the particular subject of his memoir. But this distinction is compatible with the most lowly external circumstances-It may be such as arises from the peculiar constitution of mind, or habits of any person, and such as may be found, no less in the cottage, than in the courts of princes; in the retired paths of domestic life, no less than in the career of public service -in unlettered usefulness as well as in the creative exertions of genius. There appears to be only this limit to the province of the biographer, that he should not select such characters as are distinguished by pre-eminence in vice. These are monstrous and unnatural, and cannot therefore afford that practical instruction, which is his aim. They are too shocking again, to be dwelled upon with any complacency, or to excite the requisite interest. He must not disgust his readers by

scenes of unparalleled iniquity and by horrors of description which would provoke indignation instead of awakening the kindlier emotion of pity. The faithful historian is compelled, from the course of his narration, occasionally to intermingle accounts, with which the heart cannot sympathize, from that more than human infirmity which they display. But the biographer, who brings forward some particular character to our view, has no such excuse in his narrative. The viciousness of a character conspicuous in depravity, is known before he enters on the particular detail of the circumstances belonging to it, and every thing in the course of the narrative only tends to illustrate this viciousness. His only alternative, therefore, is to abstain altogether from assuming such a subject of description.

While, however, so extensive a field is open to the biographer, it will be allowed, that the best subjects of biographical illustration are such persons as have in some measure also an historical importanceby which we would imply, not such alone as have been actively employed in political transactions, but such as have been in any way connected with the institutions of a country, or promoted its advance in arts and civilization. We readily appreciate the excellence of such works as Johnson's Lives of the Poets, because we are introduced by them to domestic converse with persons who hold a conspicuous place in the literary history of our country. We feel that there is an appropriateness in the selection, thus presented to our notice, and are predisposed favourably to receive the instruction conveyed. Hence it is, independently of their peculiar excellence in point of execution, that the lives of Plutarch form the most perfect model of biography.

In a country so constituted as ours, in which the religious and civil institutions are vitally inter