He was buried in the church of Islington, where a monument is placed to his memory.

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Cave's works are very numerous; he lived the life of a most laborious student, and the greater part of his writings have been published. His first publication was entitled, Primitive Christianity, or the Religion of the Ancient Christians in the first ages of the Gospel.' This work was first published in London in 1672, and has passed through many editions since. In 1674 he published, Tabulæ Ecclesiasticæ, or Tables of the Ecclesiastical writers,' which was, two years after, reprinted on the continent. His Antiquitates Apostolicæ,' followed next. This work was designed as a continuation of Jeremy Taylor's 'Antiquitates Christianæ.' This was followed by his Apostolici, or History of the Lives, Acts, Deaths, and Martyrdoms of those who were contemporaries with, or immediately succeeded, the Apostles.' Of which again, the Ecclesiastici,' being the history of the fathers of the 4th century, may be regarded as a continuation. Of the 'Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Historia Literaria,' the first part appeared in 1688, and the second ten years afterwards. This latter work is that on which Cave's fame as a contributor to ecclesiastical literature mainly rests. During the last twelve years of his life, Cave repeatedly revised and retouched this performance. It was reprinted at Geneva in 1705 and 1720; but the best edition is that printed at the Clarendon press, in two folio volumes, 1740-43. It contains the author's last corrections and additions, with some matter by the editor, Dr Waterland.

Cave is somewhat lightly spoken of by Jortin; but there can be no doubt that he was a laborious, accurate, and skilful scholar.

Cooper, Third Earl of Shaftesbury.

BORN A. D. 1671.-DIED a. D. 1713.

THIS nobleman was grandson to the famous statesman of the same name who first held the earldom of Shaftesbury, and was born at Exeter-house, the town-residence of his grandfather, on the 26th of February, 1671. His father was, in all probability, a person of very insignificant character; but it fortunately happened that the great founder of the family conceived an attachment for his grandson while yet in his infancy, and took upon himself the charge of superintending his education. John Locke, the philosopher, who, it will be remembered, was a resident in the house of the earl of Shaftesbury, had also some share in directing his studies. A rather extraordinary plan was devised for introducing him to a knowledge of the Latin and Greek languages. A lady of the name of Birch, the daughter of a schoolmaster in Oxfordshire or Berkshire, was so thoroughly versed in the classic tongues of antiquity, as to be able to speak either of them with the greatest fluency and correctness. This lady-whose name it ought to be the pleasure of every biographer to record-was selected as the instructress of this young favourite of fortune; and such was her skill in imparting knowledge, that, at the age of eleven or twelve, her pupil might fairly be called an accomplished scholar. At this age he was

sent by his grandfather to a private school, where he remained some little time. He early, however, lost the advantage of being superintended by the acute eye and powerful mind of the first earl, who was compelled, by the troublous nature of the times, to quit England in the latter part of 1682, and who expired at Amsterdam, in January, 1683. In this year he was removed to Winchester school. It is a curious instance of the depth and rancour of party-spirit in those days, that our young philosopher was compelled to quit this seminary by the persecution of his school-fellows on account of his descent, who had thus early imbibed from their thick-headed, fox-hunting fathers, a hatred to the name of Shaftesbury. In 1686 he set out to make the round of the continent, and, during his journey, he seems to have been animated by a laudable desire to enrich himself with every accomplishment which could adorn a scholar or a gentleman. A considerable part of the time was spent in Italy, where he acquired an accurate knowledge of painting and the fine arts.

In 1689 he returned to England, where he might almost immediately have obtained a seat in parliament, had he not rather chosen to devote himself for five years to an earnest prosecution of studies on several important questions which had engaged his attention. At the end of this period he entered the house of commons as member for Poole in Dorsetshire. His conduct as a politician was worthy of a disciple of Locke. He joined himself firmly to the only true patriots of that period, the whig supporters of King William's government; and, on all occasions, advocated measures of liberal and enlightened policy, on grounds becoming a philosophic statesman. As a speaker, he produced little impression on the house, nor will those who have perused his writings be surprised that a style so abstract, ornate, and affected, as that in which he indulged, should fail to attract attention in an assembly of men convened to transact business. The only occasion on which he signalized himself by oratory, was in his maiden speech, when the following most exquisite and beautiful turn of argument is ascribed to him. A bill for regulating trials, in cases of high treason, was brought into parliament, by one clause of which counsel was allowed to prisoners. This part of the bill appeared to Lord Ashley of so much importance, that he prepared a speech in its behalf; but, on standing up to pronounce it, he was so agitated as to forget every word of what he had prepared, and was consequently unable to proceed. The house, with the kindly feeling which it usually manifests on these occasions, gave him time to recover himself, and thus encouraged him to proceed. Lord Ashley turned to the speaker and addressed him as follows:-" If I, Sir, who rise only to give my opinion on the bill now pending, without having any personal or individual interest at stake, am so confounded, that I am unable to express the least of what I proposed to say: what must the condition of that man be, who, without any assistance, is pleading for his life, and under apprehensions of being deprived of it?" The readiness and felicity of this turn of thought are such as almost to create a suspicion that the whole was a premeditated scene.

The labours of a senator, a century and a half since, were light compared to those of the present day; but, such as they were, Lord Ashley found his health declining under them, and, in consequence,

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first transmission to that "unfeathered, two-legged thing, a son?" or how the title of Chatham has lost all its lustre in the hands of its present possessor? Such instances almost tempt a belief in Sir Thomas Brown's opinion, that Nature providently denies to men the capability of uniting many advantages; or, in other words, that she permits, in the minds of those who are nobly born, of some inherent defect, which prevents their attaining the force and manhood of her common creations. "I confess," say Brown, "'tis the common fate of men of singular gifts of mind to be destitute of those of fortune; which doth not any way deject the spirit of wiser judgments, who thoroughly understand the justice of the proceeding, and, being enriched with higher donatives, cast a more careless eye on these vulgar parts of felicity. It is a most unjust ambition to desire to engross the mercies of the Almighty." But the paradox may be solved without awarding to nature any mysterious, and, indeed, unnecessary powers. The very elevation of their condition enervates their minds. Master-spirits are formed, not on the lap of ease or amid the enticements of luxury, but in storms and dangers. It is in struggles for distinction,-in the fiery onset for fame and fortune,-that souls are cast in the most heroic mould, and attuned to the noblest temper.

We are not at all disposed to make an exception from these remarks in favour of the third earl of Shaftesbury. He possessed a creditable zeal for study, and amassed no small share of learning in the long years which he devoted to its cultivation. With the writings of antiquity, and especially with the works of Plato, he had made himself conversant, -so conversant indeed that he forgot the clearer lights which had since dawned on mankind. He devoted much of his time to contemplation on abstract principles, and on the foundation of moral codes, and in circumstances the most favourable that could be devised. Yet, after all, the result has been of trifling value compared with the toil bestowed upon it. No well-balanced system of philosophy is explained, nor any great truth advanced, and illustrated in all its bearings. Occasionally hints of value are thrown out, and a solitary position is aptly enforced, but he never seems to have had clearly before his mind a definite and organized scheme of truths, bearing upon one another in various relations, and harmonized to support an important principle. The estimate of his writings given by Sir James Macintosh, in the 'Dissertation' which he prefixed to the recent edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica,' is valuable, though tainted by the lavishness of praise to which that eminent writer is unfortunately prone. Speaking of the Inquiry concerning Virtue,' Sir James says, "The point in which it becomes especially pertinent to the subject of this Dissertation is, that it contains more intimations of an original and important nature on the theory of ethics, than perhaps any preceding work of modern times. It is true that they are often but intimations, cursory and appearing almost to be casual; so that many of them have

I am not without suspicion that I have overlooked the claims of Dr Henry More, who, notwithstanding some uncouthness of language, seems to have given the first intimations of a distinct moral faculty, which he calls "the Boniform faculty;" a phrase against which an outery would now be raised as German. Happiness, according to him, consists in a constant satisfaction, sy rq ayatosidu vas ux, (Enchiridion Ethicum, lib. i. cap. iii.)

escaped the notice of most readers, and even writers on these subjects. That the consequences of some of them are even yet not unfolded, must be owned to be a proof that they are inadequately stated; and may be regarded as a presumption that the author did not closely examine the bearing of his own positions. Among the most important of these suggestions is, the existence of dispositions in man by which he takes pleasure in the well-being of others, without any farther view; a doctrine however to all the consequences of which he has not been faithful in his other writings. Another is, that goodness consists in the prevalence of love for a system, of which we are a part, over the passions pointing to our individual welfare; a proposition which somewhat confounds the motives of right acts with their tendency, and seems to favour the melting of all particular affections into general benevolence, because the tendency of these affections is to general good. The next,, and certainly the most orginal, as well as important, is that there are certain affections of the mind, which, being contemplated by the mind itself through what he calls a reflex sense, become the objects of love or the contrary, according to their nature. So approved and loved, they constitute virtue or merit, as distinguished from mere goodness, of which there are traces in animals who do not appear to reflect on the state of their own minds, and who seem, therefore, destitute of what he elsewhere calls a moral sense. These statements are, it is true, far too short and vague. He nowhere inquires into the origin of the reflex sense. What is a much more material defect, he makes no attempt to ascertain in what state of mind it consists. We discover only by implication, and by this use of the term sense, that he searches for the foundation of moral sentiments, not in mere reason-where Cudworth and Clarke had vainly sought for it—but in the heart, whence the main branch of them assuredly flows. It should never be forgotten that we owe to these hints, the reception into ethical theory of a moral sense; which, whatever may be thought of its origin, or in whatever words it may be described, must always retain its place in such theory as a main principle of our moral nature."

The style of Lord Shaftesbury has been made the subject of unbounded admiration,-far higher indeed than its merits demand. The Enquiry concerning Virtue,' which is certainly the ablest of his performances, is written with much clearness and simplicity, and there are scattered throughout the Characteristics,' passages of considerable beauty, but, in the main, the style of his writings is unphilosophical. With the solitary exception we have mentioned, he never pursues an argument closely, or brings the different parts of his subject into lucid order. Added to this is an affectation which sometimes leads him into an offensive pleasantry, and at others into a frigid dulness. Blair says of him—and with greater justness of criticism than he usually displays— "His lordship can express nothing with simplicity. He seems to have considered it as vulgar, and beneath the dignity of a man of quality, to speak like other men. Hence he is ever in buskins; full of circumlocutions and artificial elegance. In every sentence, we see the marks of labour and art; nothing of that ease which expresses a sentiment coming natural and warm from the heart. Of figures and ornament of every kind he is exceedingly fond,-sometimes happy in them; but his fondness for them is too visible; and having once laid hold of some

metaphor or allusion that pleases him, he knows not how to part with it."

It may perhaps be expected that we should take some extended notice of Shaftesbury's sentiments on the subject of religion, but we apprehend it would serve no beneficial purpose. It is useless to contend, as some have done, that he was not a sceptic; for numerous passages in the Characteristics,' might readily be pointed out, containing idle and discreditable reflections on Christianity, in which no one could have indulged who felt any respect for its authority and doctrines. Sir James Macintosh conjectures that this sceptical tendency may have originated in disgust at the bigotted churchmen who opposed the government of King William; and the conjecture is strengthened by the fact, that in some of his latest productions, he speaks of Christianity in respectful terms. Perhaps we may assign, as another and a still more efficient cause, that affectation of originality and of freedom from vulgar prejudice, which has led so many astray. Lord Shaftesbury's works have been several times reprinted in three volumes, 8vo.

John Radcliffe, M. D.

BORN A. D. 1650.-DIED A. D. 1714.

JOHN RADCLIFFE, an English physician, was born at Wakefield, in Yorkshire, in the year 1650. Having received the rudiments of education in a school at Wakefield, he was sent at the age of fifteen to University college, Oxford. In 1669, he became bachelor in arts, and senior scholar of his college, when he removed to Lincoln college where he was presented with a fellowship. He now chose the profession of medicine, and prosecuted his studies with great diligence. In 1672, he became master of arts. His studies were by no means general, as he regarded with contempt most of the treatises on medicine, with the exception of those of Willis. His library, as he called it, in answer to a question of Dr Bathurst, consisted of a few phials, a skeleton, and an herbal. In 1675, he took his first degree in medicine, and soon afterwards commenced the practice of his profession in Oxford. His practice was bold and decisive, and so successful, that his reputation increased rapidly. He drew upon himself the abuse of apothecaries, who found that his method of treatment put less money into their pockets, and of his brethren in medicine, who found that he made great inroads upon their practice. In replying to these, Radcliffe did not exhibit a greater degree of forbearance than he was wont to do in after life, but abused them without mercy. He was a follower of Sydenham, espe cially in his most excellent method of treating smallpox. In consequence of a quarrel with Dr Marshall, rector of Lincoln college, he was obliged to resign his fellowship in 1677, and leave the college. He still resided in Oxford, and continued to practise; and in 1682, receiv. ed the degree of M. D. He went to London in 1684, and settled in Bow-street, Covent-garden, where his practice increased with a most unusual rapidity. It is said that he owed his rapid advancement not less to his agreeable conversation than to his professional skill. In 1686, he became physician to the princess Anne of Denmark. At the