rather aggravated, by the pretence constantly kept up of his being a believer, when any reader of the most ordinary sagacity at once discovers that he is an unrelenting enemy of the Christian name. Nothing can be more discreditable to the individual, nothing, above all, more unworthy the historian, than this subterfuge, resorted to for the purpose of escaping popular odium. All men of right feelings must allow that they would far more have respected an open adversary, who comes forward to the assault with a manly avowal of his disbelief, than they can a concealed but bitter enemy who assumes the garb of an ally, in order effectually to screen himself and injure the cause he pretends to defend.

The give instances of the unfairness which I have, in common with all Gibbon's readers, reproved, would be too easy not to prove superfluous. But the sixteenth chapter must for ever be, in an especial manner, a monument of his gross injustice or incurable prejudice. The eagerness with which he seizes on every circumstance to extenuate the dreadful persecutions that admit of no defence, is in the highest degree discreditable, both to his honesty and his sound judgment. He purposely begins with Nero, and so leaves out the persecutions recorded in Scripture. His account of Cyprian's martyrdom is as unfair as it could be without deceit and positive falsehood-casting a veil over all the most horrible atrocities practised on that amiable and innocent personage, and magnifying into acts of clemency exercised towards him every insignificant attention that was paid him-perverting, too, the truth of history, in order to feign circumstances which really do not appear vouched by any kind of authority. But nothing can be more preposterous than the elaborate description which he gives of the comforts derived by the sufferers in these cruel scenes from the glory of martyrdom, and from the great preference which they must have given it over the disgrace of apostasy. The twofold object of this strange discourse is at once to lower the sufferer's merit and extenuate his oppressor's guilt. Nor is there any kind of persecution for conscience' sake to which the same remarks are not equally applicable. It is a much lesser offence, though the passage is not undeserving of notice, as exhibiting the force of his prejudices, and the errors into which they lead him while descanting on his favourite topic, the "mild spirit of polytheism," that when, in describing Diocletian's general persecution, he has occasion to mention a Christian who had torn down the imperial proclamation, accompanying the act with expressions of "hatred and contempt towards all such tyrannical governors," the historian shows at once his prejudice against Christianity and his ignorance of law, by declaring this offence to be punishable "as treason by the mildest laws." He adds, that his being a person of rank aggravated the guilt; and relates, without a single expression of disapproval, that the man "was burnt, or rather roasted by a slow fire, every refinement of cruelty being exhausted without altering the steady smile which remained on his countenance." The only remark made on the executioners is of an extenuating nature; they were, it seems, “zealous to revenge the personal insult which

had been offered to the Emperor." The smile of the patient sufferer is termed "a steady and insulting smile ;" and the Christians are sneered at for "the excessive commendations which they lavished on the memory of their hero and martyr." Gibbon's clerical adversaries would have fared much better in their conflict with him had they dwelt rather upon such passages as these, in which he stands self-convicted either of almost incurable prejudice or of bad faith, and not attempted the hopeless act of charging him with ignorance and with false quotation.

The charge of indecency has often been advanced against Gibbon's "History," and by none more severely than by a writer who was combating on his side, in one, at least, of his theological controversies, and a writer whose own verses, any more than his familiar conversation, gave him but little right to make this complaint. Porson* declares that, "Were the History' anonymous, he should guess that the shameful obscenities which pervade the whole, but especially the last volumes, were written by some debauchee, who, having, from age or excess, survived the practices of lust, still indulged himself in the luxury of speculation, or exposed the impotent imbecility after he had lost the vigour of passion." This censure is certainly much too sharp, and it is truly astonishing that Gibbon felt it not. Delighted with Porson's alliance against Travis, and pleased with the panegyric of his own diligence and accuracy which the great Grecian had penned, he only says that "the sweetness of his praise is tempered by a reasonable mixture of acid.” He also defends himself against the charge of indecency as preferred by others, and his principal argument is the exceedingly feeble, and even doubtful one, that his English text is chaste, and that "all licentious passages are left in the obscurity of a learned language." It is undeniable, however, that, after allowing Porson's invective to be exaggerated, there can be no excuse for some of the notes-as those on Elagabalus, and Mahomet, and Theodora, which throw little, if any, light upon the subject, and only serve to pander for a prurient imagination.

"Letters to Archdeacon Travis." Preface.

Biog.

199

SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

Ir is rare to observe a man among the active and successful promoters of science, and which yet cannot easily find a place in its annals from the circumstance of its not being inscribed on any work, or connected with any remarkable discovery. Almost all the philosophers of both ancient and modern times have left us writings in which their doctrines were delivered, and the steps made by their labours were recorded. The illustrious exception of Socrates almost ceased to be one, from the memory of his opinions being preserved by two of his disciples in their immortal works; and the important discoveries of Archimedes and of Pythagoras are known distinctly enough in the books of ancient geometry, to leave no doubt resting upon their claims to the admiration and the gratitude of all ages. The lost works of the ancient geometers evidently afford no exception to the general remark, since they once existed, and contained the discoveries of their authors.

It must, however, be observed that the circumstance of a cultivator of science having left no works to after ages is merely accidental. He may have enriched philosophy with his achievements, and yet never have recorded them himself. Thus, had Black only made the great discovery of latent heat and specific heat, he would have been justly considered in all times as one of the greatest benefactors of natural science, and yet the history of that splendid discovery would only have been found in the memory of those who had heard his lectures; his only work being confined to the other discovery of fixed air, and the nature of the alkaline earths. To take a yet more remarkable instance;-how little of Watt's great and lasting fame depends on any written work which he has left! The like may be truly said of Arkwright; nay, the most important of inventions, the art of printing, is disputed by two names, Coster and Guttenberg, neither of whom is connected with the composition of any literary work whatever.

As men who have by their researches advanced the bounds of science," inventas aut qui vitam excoluerunt per artes,"-may never have given any written works to the world, and yet merit a high place among the greatest philosophers, so may others who have filled the less exalted, but highly useful sphere of furthering the progress of the sciences or the arts, deserve a distinguished place among philosophers for the same reason which entitles authors to such a station, although they may never have contributed by any discoveries to the advancement of the sciences which they cultivated. The excellent and eminent individual whose life we are about to contemplate falls within this description; for although his active exertions for upwards of half a century left traces most deeply marked in the history of the natural sciences, and though

his whole life was given up to their pursuits, it so happened, that with the exception of one or two tracts upon agricultural and horticultural questions, he never gave any work of his own composition to the world, nor left behind him any thing, beyond his extensive correspondence with other cultivators of science. It is from this circumstance that not even an attempt has ever yet been made to write the history of Sir Joseph Banks. And yet, what so worthy of contemplation as the history of one who loved science for its own sake, who delighted in the survey of important facts connected with the study of nature, or tracing interesting truths belonging to the same branch of knowledge; whose pursuit of knowledge was wholly disinterested, not even stimulated by the hope of fame as the reward of his labours? And who better deserved the name of a philosopher, than he whose life was devoted to the love of wisdom, whose rich reward was the delight of the study, whose more noble ambition left to others the gratification of recording their progress in books, and filling the mouths of men with their names? Much of what is explained, touching the real pleasures of science, in the life of D'Alembert, is applicable to the career of Sir Joseph Banks.*

He was of an ancient and wealthy family, established since the reign of Edward III., first in the West Riding of Yorkshire, and afterwards in the county of Lincoln, where they possessed ample estates from the end of the seventeenth century; and a considerable accession of fortune came to them early in the eighteenth, by marriage with an heiress in Derbyshire, named Hodgkinson, whose estates, by a shifting use in a settlement, were severed from those in Lincolnshire till 1792, when the whole fortune united in the person of Sir Joseph.

He was born at Argyle Buildings, in London, on the 2d of February, 1743, O. S., according to a note in his own handwriting which lies before me, contrary to several accounts which represent him as born in Lincolnshire in December of that year. After being placed for some time under a private tutor, he was in his ninth year sent to Harrow and four years after to Eton, where his good disposition and cheerful temper recommended him to his masters; but they complained of his extreme aversion to study, and inordinate love of active sports. In about twelve months, however, when in his fourteenth year, his tutor found him reading at the hours of play, and the change which had been effected in his habits was described by himself to Sir Everard Home, as arising from accidental circumstances. One day he had been bathing with his fellow Etonians; and on coming out of the water to dress, he found that all but himself had gone away. Having put on his clothes, he walked slowly along a green lane. It was a fine summer's evening; flowers covered the sides of the path. He felt delighted with the natural beauties around him, and exclaimed, "How beautiful! Would it not be far more reasonable to make me learn the nature of these plants than the Greek and Latin I

* See Life of D'Alembert, and Appendix.

+ The parish register of St. James's makes his birth 4th January.

am confined to?" His next reflection was that he must do his duty, obey his father's commands, and reconcile himself to the learning of the school. But this did not hinder him from immediately applying to the study of botany; and having no better instructer, he paid some women who were employed in gathering plants-what is called culling simples-for the druggists, for such information as they could give him, the price he gave being sixpence for each thing they told him. Returning home for the holidays, he was inexpressibly delighted to find in his mother's dressing-room an old torn copy of Gerard's Herbal, having the names and figures of the plants, with which he had formed an imperfect acquaintance, and he carried it with him back to school. There he continued his collection of plants, and he also made one of butterflies and other insects. I have often heard my father say, that being of the same age, they used to associate much together. Both were fond of walking and of swimming, and both were expert in the latter exercise. Banks always distinguished him, and in his old age he never ceased to show me every kindness in his power, in consequence of this old connexion. My father described him as a remarkably fine-looking, strong, and active boy, whom no fatigue could subdue, and no peril daunt; and his whole time out of school was given up to hunting after plants and insects, making a hortus siccus of the one, and forming a cabinet of the other. As often as Banks could induce him to quit his task in reading or in versemaking, he would take him on his long rambles; and I suppose it was from this early taste that we had at Brougham so many butterflies, beetles, and other insects, as well as a cabinet of shells and fossils. The interesting anecdote related by Sir E. Home, I never heard my father relate, but he always said that his friend Joe cared mighty little for his book, and could not well understand any one taking to Greek and Latin. The anecdote itself must be perfectly authentic if Sir E. Home heard it from him; for he was scrupulously exact in relating facts, and any thing like romance about natural scenery was the thing in the world the most alien from the cast of his mind.

In 1760 he was taken from Eton to be inoculated, and the operation failed: it was repeated, and succeeded; but so much time was thus lost, that it was thought better he should not return to school; and immediately before he completed his eighteenth year, he was sent to Oxford, and entered a gentleman commoner of Christ Church. His love of natural history now increased with the increased means and greater leisure for gratifying it. Botany, however, continued to be his favourite branch of that science; and he found that unfortunately no lectures were given by Dr. Sibthorp, the botanical professor. In this difficulty, he applied to the learned doctor for leave to engage a lecturer, whose remuneration should be wholly defrayed by his pupils; and it is highly creditable to the professor, and shows his love of the science, in which some of his family afterwards so greatly excelled, that he at once agreed to the proposal. Mr. Banks then finding no one at Oxford capable of undertaking the class, went over to Cambridge, whence