divine, as a scholar, and as a writer, spread and increased, but his humbleness of mind remained. We need not, however, dwell upon his services to religion or to literature, which have been long ago widely appreciated. A few anecdotes introduced into the present work respecting other great men, and the Bishop's feelings thereby excited, and a few notices of his latter years, must suffice.

On one occasion Bishop Jebb, accompanied by the author, visited Lichfield, and arriving on Good Friday, he felt peculiar interest in keeping a day so solemnly observed by Dr. Johnson, in that city and its cathedral. After service he was conducted over the cathedral by one of the dignitaries in residence, who had been intimate with the great moralist, and who possessed his watch, his Bible, his ink-stand, and several other Johnsonian relics. The following are some fragments of Johnson's conversation, as gathered from the conductor in question. He described his first meeting with his extraordinary townsman thus :

"I was then a youth, fresh from the university, and I had heard so much of Dr. Johnson's awful manner, that I felt quite afraid of meeting him. But his first address at once relieved me. . . Sir, I knew your father, he was a classman of mine at Dr. Hunter's; I knew your grandfather, and I knew your great-grandfather; and (reaching out his hand as he spoke) I am glad to know you.' From that moment I was at my ease with him, and we conversed with the greatest freedom. He was a man of the truest simplicity of character, and tender-hearted as a child.' Asking the Bishop, whether he had taken notice of the prebendary who accompanied him to the altar, he proceeded, . . That person could do what he pleased with Johnson, and would make him talk, when nobody else durst address him. He used to say.. Do you wish to hear Dr. Johnson to-night? You shall then, presently. He is a clock; I will wind him up, and make him go.' He would go up at once to the oracle, and begin,.. Come, Sir, let us have your opinion on such, or such, a subject, &c.,' when Johnson would immediately open out, to the instruction and delight of the company.

"Most of the relics possessed by our informant, had been obtained from Francis Barber, Johnson's black servant; who reduced himself to great misery, and parted with them in his distress. The watch, its present possessor has had remounted in a gold case; but the dial-plate, work, cap, &c., remain as Johnson left them. On the original dial-plate were engraved the words vuž exerai; but Dr. Johnson, thinking the motto might appear ostentatious, disused the dial-plate, replacing it with a plain one. The watch itself was made by Mudge, London... The Bible, is a pocket one, bound in red leather, with a clasp: the London edition of 1650, printed for the Stationers' Company; (and what one could not have expected to find with Dr. Johnson), consequently a republican copy. It bears marks of close and constant study, being folded down, according to his custom, at numerous passages. The present owner religiously preserves the folds as Johnson left them. I hope it was with no unprofit able emotion that I held in my hand this little volume, the well-worn

manual of our great English moralist. A volume of South's Sermons, used by Dr. Johnson for his dictionary, was also much worn, and the margin repeatedly marked in pencilling, or the passages for citation underlined."-vol. i. pp. 290–292.

When giving his readers some notices of the late Rev. James Bean, one of the sub-librarians of the British Museum, and who had been Vicar of Olney, and the intimate friend of Cowper, a touching anecdote is introduced, illustrative of the poet's malady. Mr. Bean told the Bishop, that he had been in the habit of visiting Cowper every ten days, upon the most familiar footing. "I went," he said, "to cull sweets from the various flowers, so richly springing in his conversation; and when a stock was thus collected, I returned to my bee-hive, and scraped off the honey from my thighs into my own store.' But at length and for a time he would see no one, not even Mr. Bean, who had been to him a spiritual comforter and adviser.

"His morbid imagination became a prey to the belief, that he was about to be publicly executed as a malefactor, in the market-place of Olney. Lady Hesketh, induced by the hope that his presence might effect a salutary diversion, obliged Mr. Bean, one day, to go, unbidden, into the poet's room, who now received no one. On his entrance, Mr. Cowper looked earnestly at him, and asked, is all ready?'. . 'Really Sir, said Mr. Bean, I don't understand you: what do you mean by the question?'.. I mean is all ready in the market-place for my execution?' Mr. Bean used every endeavour to dissipate his notion, but without effect: he assured him there were no preparations in the market-place for his, or any one else's execution; that he had himself just been there; and that nothing was to be seen there but the usual commodities, or to be heard but the cackling of hens, gobbling of turkies, grunting of pigs, &c. Mr. Cowper listened attentively to these assurances, and was silent; looking at his visitor, at the same time, with an air of incredulous politeness, which showed that he regarded the conversation wholly as a wellmeant attempt to deceive."-vol, i, pp. 301, 302.

From the many fine and noble sayings of Bishop Jebb himself, recorded in these volumes, we select two specimens, which of themselves are sufficient to show, that he had such a heart as must ever have been teeming with tenderness, generosity, and love to all mankind. The author informs us, that on a certain occasion he happened to read to the Bishop a paragraph from a newspaper, stating that the creditors of Sir Walter Scott had returned to him his plate, library, &c., in testimony of their high respect for his honourable conduct to them. Upon this, the Bishop said, "I don't know whether you have experienced the same kind of sensation; but, whenever I hear any trait of that kind which you have read to me, I feel my heart swell, as if I could not keep it down; I can describe it only as a swelling of the heart, which affects my breathing." The other saying referred to by us, bears something

so consolatory with it, of a still more impressive nature, that one cannot but love the memory of him who uttered it, and think that his reflections were as exalted as they were lovely. The author had pointed out to the Bishop a melancholy passage in Gibbon's life, in which the historian is described as expressing to Mrs. Holroyd, a few days before his death, the little or no hope he had of a future life, and his contentment with annihilation. The Bishop's observation was, "No one can say what may have taken place in his mind, even in the last day or two. I was once drowned (alluding to an accident, more than five-and-thirty years before), and I know by experience, how much thought may be crowded into a single moment."

From these anecdotes, and the whole of Bishop Jebb's life, as recorded in the volumes before us, it is very manifest that he was quite the opposite of a morose or a discontented man. And yet he endured extraordinary affliction. His bodily sufferings were great, frequent, lasting, and some of them of such a disheartening kind that few indeed would have maintained their equanimity and cheerfulness under them. Amid the most formidable sufferings, even during a paralytic affection so severe as to deprive him, for the last six or seven years that he lived, of the use of his right hand, and nearly of the right side, he was cheerful, and active for himself and others. His habitual language, and the manifest feelings of his heart were, "Goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life." The account which his biographer gives of the stroke by which the Bishop's bodily energies were suddenly prostrated, is affecting and tender in no ordinary degree.

"About five o'clock, as we sat together at dinner, the Bishop suddenly said, 'I feel a numbness in my hand. . it is going up the arm . . it has gone down my side: send for Mr. Thwaites.' In a moment after he was speechless. The shock of that awful moment returns on me, as I describe it. It was, indeed, 'a sharp arrow,' . . but it was 'the arrow of the Lord,' winged with mercy, and tempered by love! The goodness of a guardian Providence over and around my suffering friend, was, even in this instant, manifest; not a moment had been lost in ministering such help, as the servants and I could minister; and, within five minutes from the occurrence of the paralysis, the Bishop's family surgeon, one of the most eminent of his profession, was in the room, and at his side: the messenger met him descending the steps of his own hall-door, on his way to visit the County Hospital, at a considerable distance in the opposite direction; arriving when he did, nothing could be more timely; a single moment later, and Mr. Thwaites would have been gone, and the inevitable delay of at least half an hour, if it did not, as seemed too likely, occasion death, would, in all human probability, have rendered recovery hopeless. The sense of his timely arrival is present with me, as though it had been an event of yesterday: while memory is spared, I never can forget the mingled feelings of thankfulness and trust which it awakened;

may minds, unhappily for their own peace, unwilling to discern, in such coincidences, the agency of a Providence, be taught by like experience of the divine mercy, to unlearn their unbelief!

"By the skill and decision of Mr. Thwaites, the most energetic treatment was now instantly adopted, where only the most energetic treatment could have proved successful. Under his directions, the Bishop was borne up stairs, apparently in a state of insensibility; from which he was almost immediately relieved by the free use of the lancet. The pressure thus taken off, he was removed to bed. Immediately on being laid down, he gave an affecting proof, at once of the perfect collectedness and calmness of his own thoughts, and of tender consideration, even in a moment like this, for the sorrowing friends who now stood around him. Having partially recovered his speech, his first use of it was faintly to articulate the word paper.' On its being brought, he feebly attempted to mark with the left hand, in what could not be called characters, something which he wished to express, and placed the paper in my hand. Those who have hearts to feel may judge of my distress, when I found myself unable to decipher it: my brother was more forfortunate,.. they were words of comfort, and he read them aloud, . 'Don't fear, J. L.' The moment he had done so, the Bishop's eye brightened, and he recovered strength to utter, Yes, don't be afraid."" -vol. i, pp. 317-319.

But the mind recovered from the blow, and continued as strong and clear as ever. He set about cultivating the use of his left hand, with his characteristic decision, and in a few months, with that member he rivalled his beautiful right-hand penmanship-lithographic specimens of which are prefixed to the present work. His literary labours for the service of Christianity were, after this permanent calamity, various and extremely valuable; and his last years and days furnished the best commentary on his written works. He died in December 1833, leaving a character which has seldom been equalled for the most amiable and exalted virtues and deeds.

The author of these volumes, who tells us that he, for nearly one-and-twenty years, lived under the roof and guidance of the man whose life and correspondence fills them, has done ample justice to his patron and friend. The whole work exhibits Mr. Forster as a divine and a man of a kindred spirit with the good, and we may add, great Bishop. The feeling, the earnestness, the judgment, and the literary taste of the writer, are worthy of his theme; nor can there be a doubt of these volumes finding acceptance and being held in high repute, wherever any person who possesses and is capable of relishing any of Bishop Jebb's excellent volumes, is to be found.

46

ART. IV. Report from the Select Committee on the Condition, Management, and Affairs of the British Museum. Ordered by the House of Commons to be printed.

THE public hear a great deal of the magnitude, the vast collections, and the splendour of the British Museum; yet none but the persons whose pursuits or tastes lead them to its halls and galleries, or who have been occupied in comparing it with the national Museums and Libraries of foreign countries, can be aware of the great deficiency of this much-boasted-of-British establishment. The wealth, the enlightened liberality, and the wisdom of the people of this country, are frequent themes of well-grounded self-gratulation. But yet, we are not to suppose that every thing that is superior for goodness and enviable greatness is on our side. One fact is manifest to us, that whoever wades through this voluminons Report, will, no matter what may have been his prepossessions or prejudices, rise from the perusal with the fullest conviction upon his mind, that the National Museum and Library of Britain furnishes any thing but an evidence of superior British literature or science. To the question-whence arises this inferiority in a country celebrated for its free institutions, its men of learning and science ?-it may not be easy to affix an answer that would be complete. Still it requires no ingenuity or extraordinary reflection to point out certain facts, the existence of which is altogether incompatible with the best interests of such an institution as the British Museum.

One fact is, that literary and scientific men, who have done a thousand times more service to society than all the generals or lawyers that ever existed, are not honoured in this country, as in France, Germany, or even some of the small States of the German empire. Our government has ever treated them, as a body, with neglect; and thus, while lowering the standard of their general character, has taught the public to regard them with the same sort of contempt. Accordingly, neither by the people of England nor their governors, have the appeals of men of letters and scientific research been listened to with patience. Money is grudged to them, except in so far as their works have been supposed a good pennyworth; patronage, upon a national scale, is also grudged to themeven purity, activity, and high purposes of conduct, are thought unnecessary-when the bequests of enlightened and patriotic individuals are to be distributed or managed, which have been bestowed upon the meritorious but neglected classes we now refer to. We assert that such is the case; and if so, need we wonder at finding the highest and richest literary as well as scientific establishment in the empire in a condition that is disgracefully defective? For we also assert, and proceed to show, that the British Museum is and has long been in the condition now so unequivocally characterized.