He was now pronounced fit for the university, and was sent by his patrons to Exeter college, Oxford. While at the university he began his translation of Juvenal, some specimens of which being shown to Lord Grosvenor procured for him the patronage of that nobleman, with whose son he afterwards travelled on the continent. In 1794 he published The Baviad,' a satiric poem, in which he effectually demolished the Della Cruscan tribe of poetasters. In the following year, appeared 'The Mæviad,' an imitation of Horace, and levelled at the corrupters of dramatic poetry. He was next engaged in editing The AntiJacobin,' in which he had the support of Canning, Frere, and Pitt. In 1805 he published an edition of the plays of Massinger; and in 1816, an edition of Ben Jonson. But it was as editor of The Quarterly Review,' begun in 1809, that Mr Gifford was most generally known. He conducted this celebrated periodical with great vigour and distinguished ability, till within a very short period of his death, which took place on the 31st December, 1826.

A writer in the Literary Gazette' has supplied us with several interesting anecdotes of this self-taught and accomplished man, from which we select the following:-" He disliked incurring an obligation which might in any degree shackle the expression of his free opinion. Agreeably to this, he laid down a rule, from which he never departed -that every writer in the Quarterly' should receive so much, at least, per sheet. On one occasion-I dare say others occurred, but I only know of one-a gentleman holding office under government, sent him an article, which, after undergoing some serious mutilations at his hands preparatory to being ushered into the world, was accepted. But the usual sum being sent to the author, he rejected it with disdain, conceiving it a high dishonour to be paid for anything-the independent placeman Gifford, in answer, informed him of the invariable rule of the Review,' adding, that he could send the money to any charitable institution, or dispose of it in any manner he should direct-but that the money must be paid. The doughty official, convinced that the virtue of his article would force it into the Review' at all events, stood firm in his refusal :-greatly to his dismay, the article was returned. He revenged himself by never sending another. Gifford, in relating this afterwards, observed with a smile, Poor man! the truth was, he did'nt like my alterations: and, I'm sure, I did'nt like his articles; so there was soon an end of our connexion.' His objection to asking a personal favour was, owing to the same principle, exceedingly strong. If the united influence of the Anti-Jacobin' and the Quarterly' be considered, we may probably be justified, in assigning to Gifford's literary support of government, a rank second only to Burke. His services, at all events, formed a very powerful claim to any moderate favour in the power of ministers to bestow; and yet, though anxious at all times to gratify the wants of his needier friends to his utmost ability, his aversion to soliciting the bounty of government was seldom overcome on one occasion, indeed, in particular, he exerted his influence in favour of the son of a deceased friend; but, undoubtedly, not without being driven to it by such importunity as left an application to ministers the less of two evils. About two years before his death, he wrote, I believe to the chancellor, requesting a small living for a distressed relative of his first patron: his request was not complied with.

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But then it should be remembered, that at the time it was made, the 'Quarterly' had passed into other hands. Othello's occupation was gone; and Gifford had to digest, as well as he could, the mortification which commonly awaits every political writer, of finding that the favour of a government is self-interested, extorted, and ungrateful. It is true, his independence of opinion might seem to be interfered with by the situations he heid; but they were bestowed on him unsolicited, and from motives of personal regard. I am sure every one acquainted with him will admit, that he would have rejected with scorn any kindness which could be considered as fettering the freedom of his conduct in the smallest degree. I am not more certain of many conjectures, than I ain that he never propagated a dishonest opinion, nor did a dishonest act. He enjoyed a very close intimacy with Mr Pitt: he used to mention that when he dined with the minister téte-à-tête, or with but a few chosen others, a servant was never permitted to remain in the room. The minister's'dumb waiters' were as serviceable in his private as in any other house. He continued the editorship of the ‘Quarterly' much longer than a just regard for his health authorized: but no successor that was proposed pleased him; and nothing but a bodily decay, little short of dissolution, compelled him to resign. He never stipulated for any salary as editor: at first he received £200, and at last £900 per annum, but never engaged for a particular sum. He several times returned money to Murray, saying, 'he had been too liberal.' Perhaps he was the only man on this side the Tweed who thought so! He was perfectly indifferent about wealth. I do not know a better proof of this than the fact that he was richer, by a very considerable sum, at the time of his death than he was at all aware of. In unison with his contempt of money was his disregard of any external distinction: he had a strong natural aversion to any thing like pomp or parade.

Yet he was by no means insensible to an honourable distinction; and when the university of Oxford, about two years before his death, offered to give him a doctor's degree, he observed, twenty years ago it would have been gratifying, but now it would only be written on my coffin.' His disregard for external show was the more remarkable, as a contrary feeling is generally observable in persons who have risen from penury to wealth. But Gifford was a gentleman in feeling and in conduct; and you were never led to suspect he was sprung from an obscure origin, except when he reminded you of it by an anecdote relative to it. And this recalls one of the stories he used to tell with irresistible drollery, the merit of which entirely depended on his manner. I know an excellent mimic, who was immeasurably delighted with the story, but who never could produce more than a smile, with all his powers, by repeating it. It was simply this:-At the cobbler's board, of which Gifford had been a member, there was but one candle allowed for the whole coterie of operatives: it was, of course, a matter of importance that this candle should give as much light as possible. This was only to be done by repeated snuffings; but snuffers being a piece of fantastic coxcombry they were not pampered with, the members of the board took it in turn to perform the office of the forbidden luxury with their finger and thumb. The candle was handed, therefore, to each in succession, with the word 'sneaf' (anglice, 'snuff') bellowed in his ears. Gifford used to pronounce this word in the legitimate broad Devonshire

dialect, and accompanied his story with expressive gestures.-Now, on paper this is absolutely nothing, but in Gifford's mouth it was exquisitely humorous. I should not, however, have mentioned it, were it not that it appears to me one of the best instances I could give of his humility in recurring to his former condition. He was equally free from personal vanity. A lady of his acquaintance once looked in upon him, and said she had a rout that evening, and endeavoured by every inducement to persuade him to join it. Now do, Gifford, come in: it will give such an éclat,' she added, patting him familiarly on the shoulder, to say, there is Mr Gifford, the poet !' Poet, indeed! and a pretty figure this poet,' he answered, looking demurely on his shrunk shanks, would cut in a ball-room!' He was a man of very deep and warm affections. If I were desired to point out the distinguishing excellence of his private character, I should refer to his fervent sincerity of heart. He was particularly kind to children, and fond of their society. My sister, when young, used sometimes to go to spend a month with him, on which occasions he would hire a pianoforte, and once he actually had a juvenile ball at his house for her amusement. He formed an attachment for his pupil which no subsequent circumstances could abate. The change in his lordship's political sentiments did not shake Gifford's unalterable affection for his character. He, on the other hand, met this attachment with an equal degree of warmth their mutual respect was built on principle, and reflected equal honour on both."

John Nichols.

BORN A. D. 1744.-DIED A. D. 1827

THIS literary veteran was born at Islington in 1744. At the age of thirteen he was apprenticed to the celebrated printer, William Bowyer, who encouraged the literary tastes of the youth, and in 1766 took him into partnership. In 1778 he became editor of the Gentleman's Magazine,' which he conducted with much industry and success for a period of nearly half-a-century. He died in November, 1827. The following is a list of the principal publications of which Mr Nichols was either the author or the editor:-Islington, a Poem, 1763, 4to.-The Origin of Printing, 1774, 8vo. the joint production of Mr Bowyer and himself; reprinted in 1776; and a Supplement added in 1781.-Three Supplemental Volumes to the Works of Dean Swift, with Notes, 1775, 1776, 1779, 8vo.-The Original Works, in Prose and Verse, of William King, LL.D. with Historical Notes, 1776, 3 vols. small 8vo.-Six Old Plays, on which Shakspeare grounded a like number of his; selected by Mr Steevens, and revised by Mr Nichols, 1779, 2 vols. small 8vo.—A Select Collection of Miscellaneous Poems, with Historical and Biographical Notes, 1780; 4 vols. small 8vo. ; to which four other volumes. and a general Poetical Index, by Mr Macbean, were added in 1782.— The History and Antiquities of Hinckley, in Leicestershire, 1782, 4to. ; of which a second edition, in folio, extracted from the History of Leicestershire,' was printed in 1812.-Novum Testamentum Græcum, ad fidem Græcorum solùm Codicum MSS. expressum; adstipulante

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Joanne Jacobo Wetstenio; juxta Sectiones Jo. Alberti Bengelii divisum ; et novà Interpunctione sæpiùs illustratum. Editio Secunda, Londini, curà, typis, et sumptibus Johannis Nichols, 1783.-Bishop Atterbury's Epistolary Correspondence, with Notes, vols. I. and II. 1783; vol. III. 1784; vol. IV. 1787.-A new edition of this work, corrected and much enlarged, was published in 1799, with Memoirs of the Bishop; and a fifth volume, entirely new.-In conjunction with the Rev. Dr Ralph Heathcote, he revised the second edition of the Biographical Dictionary, 12 vols. 8vo. 1784; and added several hundred new lives.-The Progresses and Royal Processions of Queen Elizabeth, 1788, 2 vols. 4to. Of this Collection a third volume was published in 1804; and part of a fourth volume in 1821.-An Edition of Shakspeare, 1790, in 7 vols. 12mo; accurately printed from the text of Mr Malone; with a Selection of the more important Notes.-The History and Antiquities of the Town and County of Leicester; Parts I. and II. 1795. Folio.A Third Part was published in 1798; a Fourth in 1800; a Fifth in 1804; a Sixth in 1807 (reprinted in 1810); and the Seventh in 1811; and an Appendix and General Indexes in 1815.-Illustrations of the Manners and Expences of Ancient Times in England, 1797, 4to.—In 1800, he completed The Antiquaries' Museum, which had been begun in 1791 by his friend Jacob Schnebbelie.—A new edition of Fuller's History of the Worthies of England, with brief Notes, 1811. 2 vols. 4to. Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century, 1812-1815, 9 vols. 8vo.-Literary Illustrations of the Eighteenth Century, a Sequel to the above Work, 4 vols. 1817-1822.-Miscellaneous Works of George Hardinge, 3 vols. 8vo. 1819.—In 1818 he prefixed to the third volume of General Index to the Gentlemen's Magazine, a Prefatory Introduction, descriptive of the rise and progress of the Magazine, with Anecdotes of the Projector and his early associates.-The Progresses of King James the First, in 3 vols. 4to. were printing at the time of Mr Nichols' death; and he lived to see the greater part of them published.

Thomas Rowlandson.

BORN A. D. 1756.-died a. D. 1827.

THIS well-known and admired artist was born in the Old Jewry, July, 1756; his father was a commercialist of great respectability. Thomas Rowlandson was educated at the school of Dr Barvis in Soho square, at that time, and subsequently, an academy of some celebrity. Richard Burke, son of the late Edmund Burke, M.P., was his schoolfellow. Mr Holman, the celebrated tragedian, was also educated there. The academy was then kept by Dr Barrow. At a very early period of his childhood, Rowlandson gave presage of his future talent; and he drew humorous characters of his master and many of his scholars before he was ten years old. The margins of his school-books were covered with these his handy-works.

In his sixteenth year he was sent to Paris, and was entered a student in one of the drawing academies there, where he made rapid advances in the study of the human figure; and during his residence, which was nearly two years, he occasionally indulged his satirical talent, in pro

traying the characteristics of that fantastic people. On his return to Loudon he resumed his studies at the Royal academy, then held in some apartments at Old Somerset house. He had been admitted on the list

of students before his visit to Paris. The celebrated Mr John Bannister, who had evinced an equal predilection for the graphic art, was at this time a fellow-student; and it was here that friendship commenced between them which continued throughout life. The elder Rowlandson, who was of a speculative turn, lost considerable sums in experimenting upon various branches of manufactures, which were tried upon too large a scale for his means; hence his affairs became embarrassed, and his son, before he had attained his manhood, was obliged to support himself. He, however, derived that assistance from an aunt which his father's reverse of fortune had withheld. This lady was a Mademoiselle Chattelier, married to Thomas Rowlandson, his uncle-she amply supplied him with money; and to this indulgence, perhaps, may be traced those careless habits which attended his early career, and for which he was remarkable through life. At her decease, she left him seven thousand pounds, much plate, trinkets, and other valuable property. He then indulged his predilection for a joyous life, and mixed himself with the gayest of the gay. Whilst at Paris, being of a social spirit, he sought the company of dashing young men; and, among other evils, imbibed a love for play. He was known in London at many of the fashionable gaming houses, alternately won and lost without emotion, till at length he was minus several thousand pounds. He thus dissipated the amount of more than one valuable legacy. It was said to his honour, however, that he always played with the feelings of a gentleman, and his word passed current, even with an empty purse. He has assured the writer, who knew him for more than forty years, that he had frequently played throughout a night and the next day; and that once, such was his infatuation for the dice, he continued at the gaming-table nearly thirty-six hours, with the intervention only of the time for refreshment, which was supplied by a cold collation. This uncontrollable passion for gaming, strange to say, subverted not his principles. He was scrupulously upright in all his pecuniary transactions, and ever avoided getting into debt. He has been known, after having lost all he possessed, to return home to his professional studies, sit down coolly to fabricate a series of new designs, and to exclaim, with stoical philosophy, "I have played the fool; but (holding up his pencils) here is my resource."

It is not generally known, that, however coarse and slight may be the generality of his humorous and political etchings, many of which were the careless effusion of a few hours, his early works were wrought with care; and his studies from the human figure, at the Royal academy, were scarcely inferior to those of the justly-admired Mortimer. From the versatility of his talent, the fecundity of his imagination, the grace and elegance with which he could design his groups, added to the almost miraculous despatch with which he supplied his patrons with compositions upon every subject, it has been the theme of regret amongst his friends that he was not more careful of his reputation. Had he pursued the course of art steadily, he might have become one of the greatest historical painters of the age. His style, which was purely his own, was most original. He drew a bold outline with the reed-pen, in a tint composed of vermilion and Indian ink, washed in the general effect in chiaro-scuro,