was more lasting than theirs; it was that patientia Christiana which Lipsius, the great master of the Stoical Philosophy, begged of God in his last hours; it was founded on religion, not vanity, not on vain reasonings, but on confidence in God.

honoured with the highest and most public marks | patience of Boerhaave, as it was more rational, of esteem by other nations, he became more celebrated in the university; for Boerhaave was not one of those learned men, of whom the world has seen too many that disgrace their studies by their vices, and by their unaccountable weaknesses make themselves ridiculous at home, while their writings procure them the veneration of distant countries, where their learning is known, but not their follies.

In 1727, he was seized with a violent burning fever, which continued so long that he was once more given up by his friends.

From this time he was frequently afflicted with Not that his countrymen can be charged with returns of his distemper, which yet did not so far being insensible of his excellences till other na- subdue him, as to make him lay aside his studies tions taught them to admire him; for in 1718, he or his lectures, till, in 1729, he found himself so was chosen to succeed Le Mort in the professor- worn out that it was improper for him to continue ship of chemistry; on which occasion he pro- any longer the professorships of botany and chenounced an oration "De chemia errores suos mistry, which he therefore resigned, April 28, and expurgante," in which he treated that science upon his resignation spoke a "Sermo Academiwith an elegance of style not often to be found in cus," or oration, in which he asserts the power chemical writers, who seem generally to have and wisdom of the Creator from the wonderful affected not only a barbarous, but unintelligible fabric of the human body; and confutes all those phrase, and to have, like the Pythagoreans of old, idle reasoners, who pretend to explain the formawrapt up their secrets in symbols and enigmati- tion of parts, or the animal operations, to which cal expressions, either because they believed that he proves, that art can produce nothing equal, nor mankind would reverence most what they least any thing parallel. One instance I shall mention, understood, or because they wrote not from be- which is produced by him, of the vanity of any nevolence but vanity, and were desirous to be attempt to rival the work of God. Nothing is praised for their knowledge, though they could more boasted by the admirers of chemistry, than not prevail upon themselves to communicate it. that they can, by artificial heats and digestion, In 1722, his course both of lectures and prac-imitate the productions of Nature. "Let all tice was interrupted by the gout, which, as he relates it in his speech after his recovery, he brought upon himself, by an imprudent confidence in the strength of his own constitution, and by transgressing those rules which he had a thousand times inculcated to his pupils and acquaintance. Rising in the morning before day, he went immediately, hot and sweating, from his bed into the open air, and exposed himself to the cold dews.

The history of his illness can hardly be read without horror; he was for five months confined to his bed, where he lay upon his back without daring to attempt the least motion, because any effort renewed his torments, which were so exquisite, that he was at length not only deprived of motion but of sense. Here art was at a stand, nothing could be attempted, because nothing could be proposed with the least prospect of success. At length having in the sixth month of his illness, obtained some remission, be took simple medicines in large quantities, and at length wonderfully recovered."

His recovery, so much desired, and so unexpected, was celebrated on Jan. 11, 1723, when he opened his school again, with general joy and public illuminations.

It would be an injury to the memory of Boerhaave not to mention what was related by himself to one of his friends, that when he lay whole days and nights without sleep, he found no method of diverting his thoughts so effectual as meditation upon his studies, and that he often relieved and mitigated the sense of his torments by the recollection of what he had read, and by reviewing those stores of knowledge which he had reposited in his memory.

This is perhaps an instance of fortitude and steady composure of mind, which would have been for ever the boast of the Stoic schools, and increased the reputation of Seneca or Cato. The

"Succos pressos bibit Noster herbarum Cichore, Endiviæ, Fumaria, Nasturtii aquatici, Veronica aquatire latifolie, copia ingenti; simul deglutiens abundantissime gumini ferulacea Asiatica."-Orig. Edit.

these heroes of science meet together," says Boerhaave; let them take bread and wine, the food that forms the blood of man, and by assimilation contributes to the growth of the body: let them try all their arts, they shall not be able from these materials to produce a single drop of blood.-So much is the most common act of Nature beyond the utmost efforts of the most extended Science !

From this time Boerhaave lived with less public employment indeed, but not an idle or a useless life; for, besides his hours spent in instructing his scholars, a great part of his time was taken up by patients which came, when the distemper would admit it, from all parts of Europe to consult him, or by letters which, in more urgent cases, were continually sent, to inquire his opinion, or ask his advice.

Of his sagacity, and the wonderful penetration with which he often discovered and described, at the first sight of a patient, such distempers as betray themselves by no symptoms to common eyes, such wonderful relations have been spread over the world, as, though attested beyond doubt, can scarcely be credited. I mention none of them, because I have no opportunity of collecting testimonies, or distinguishing between those accounts which are well proved, and those which owe their rise to fiction and credulity.

Yet I cannot but implore, with the greatest earnestness, such as have been conversant with this great man, that they will not so far neglect the common interest of mankind, as to suffer any of these circumstances to be lost to posterity. Men are generally idle, and ready to satisfy themselves, and intimidate the industry of others, by calling that impossible which is only difficult. The skill to which Boerhaave attained, by a long and unwearied observation of nature, ought therefore to be transmitted in all its particulars to future ages, that his successors may be ashamed to fall below him, and that none may hereafter excuse his ignorance by pleading the impossibility of clearer knowledge.

Yet so far was this great master from presumptuous confidence in his abilities, that, in his examinations of the sick, he was remarkably circumstantial and particular. He well knew that the originals of distempers are often at a distance from their visible effects; that to conjecture, where certainty may be obtained, is either vanity or negligence; and that life is not to be sacrificed, either to an affectation of quick discernment, or of crowded practice, but may be required, if trifled away, at the hand of the physician.

the best men, even Job himself, were not able to refrain from such starts of impatience. This he did not deny; but said, "He that loves God, ought to think nothing desirable but what is most pleasing to the Supreme Goodness."

Such were his sentiments, and such his conduct, in this state of weakness and pain: as death approached nearer, he was so far from terror or confusion, that he seemed even less sensible of pain, and more cheerful under his torments, which continued till the 23d day of September, 1738, on which he died, between four and five in the morning, in the 70th year of his age.

Thus died Boerhaave, a man formed by nature for great designs, and guided by religion in the exertion of his abilities. He was of a robust and athletic constitution of body, so hardened by early severities, and wholesome fatigue, that he was insensible of any sharpness of air, or inclemency of weather. He was tall, and remarkable for extraordinary strength. There was in his air and motion something rough and artless, but so majestic and great at the same time, that no man ever looked upon him without veneration, and a kind of tacit submission to the superiority of his genius.

The vigour and activity of his mind sparkled visibly in his eyes; nor was it ever observed that any change of his fortune, or alteration in his affairs, whether happy or unfortunate, affected his countenance.

About the middle of the year 1737, he felt the first approaches of that fatal illness that brought him to the grave, of which we have inserted an account, written by himself Sept. 8, 1738, to a friend at London; which deserves not only to be preserved as an historical relation of the disease which deprived us of so great a man, but as a proof of his piety and resignation to the divine will. In this last illness, which was to the last degree lingering, painful, and afflictive, his constancy and firmness did not forsake him. He neither intermitted the necessary cares of life, nor forgot the proper preparations for death. Though dejection and lowness of spirit was, as he himself tells us, part of his distemper, yet even this, in some measure, gave way to that vigour which the soul receives from a consciousness of innocence. About three weeks before his death he received a visit at his country-house from the Rev. Mr. Schultens, his intimate friend, who found him sitting without-door, with his wife, sister, and He was always cheerful, and desirous of prodaughter: after the compliments of form, the moting mirth by a facetious and humorous conladies withdrew, and left them to private conver-versation; he was never soured by calumny and sation; when Boerhaave took occasion to tell him what had been, during his illness, the chief subject of his thoughts. He had never doubted of the spiritual and immaterial nature of the soul; but declared that he had lately had a kind of experimental certainty of the distinction between corporeal and thinking substances, which mere reason and philosophy cannot afford, and opportunities of contemplating the wonderful and inexplicable union of soul and body, which nothing but long sickness can give. This he illustrated by a description of the effects which the infirmities of his body had upon his faculties, which yet they did not so oppress or vanquish, but his soul was always master of itself, and always resigned to the pleasure of its Maker.

He related, with great concern, that once his patience so far gave way to extremity of pain, that, after having lain fifteen hours in exquisite tortures, he prayed to God that he might be set free by death.

Mr. Schultens, by way of consolation, answered, that he thought such wishes, when forced by continued and successive torments, unavoidable in the present state of human nature; that

detraction, nor ever thought it necessary to confute them; "for they are sparks," said he, "which, if you do not blow them, will go out of themselves."

Yet he took care never to provoke enemies by severity of censure, for he never dwelt on the faults or defects of others, and was so far from inflaming the envy of his rivals by dwelling on his own excellences, that he rarely mentioned himself or his writings.

He was not to be overawed or depressed by the presence, frowns, or insolence of great men, but persisted on all occasions in the right with a resolution always present and always calm. He was modest, but not timorous, and firm without rudeness.

He could, with uncommon readiness and certainty, make a conjecture of men's inclinations and capacity by their aspect.

His method of life was to study in the morning and evening, and to allot the middle of the day to his public business. His usual exercise was riding, till, in his latter years, his distempers made it more proper for him to walk: when he was weary he amused himself with playing on the violin.

and prosecute his studies without interruption.

* "Etas, labor, corporisque opima pinguetudo, effe- His greatest pleasure was to retire to his house cerant, ante annum, ut inertibus refertum, grave, hebes, in the country, where he had a garden stored with plenitudine turgens corpus, anhelum ad motus minimos, all the herbs and trees which the climate would cum sensu suffocationis, pulsu mirifice anomalo, inep-bear; here he used to enjoy his hours unmolested, tum evaderet ad ullum motum. Urgebat præcipue subsistens prorsus et intercepta respiratio ad prima somni initia: unde somnus prorsus prohibebatur, cum formidabili strangulationis molestia. Hine hydrops pedum, crurum, femorum, scroti. præputii, et abdominis. Qua tamen omnia sublata. Sed dolor manet in abdomine, cum anxietate summa, anhelitu suffocante, et debilitate incredibili: somno pauco, eoque vago, per somnia turbatissimo: animus vero rebus agendis impar. Cum his Juctor fessus nec emergo; patienter expectans Dei jussa, quibus resigno data, quæ sola amo, et honoro unice.Orig. Edit.

The diligence with which he pursued his studies, is sufficiently evident from his success. Statesmen and generals may grow great by unexpected accidents, and a fortunate concurrence of circumstances, neither procured nor foreseen by themselves; but reputation in the learned world must be the effect of industry and capacity. Boerhaave lost none of his hours, but,

when he had attained one science, attempted an- | God as he is in himself, without attempting to inother; he added physic to divinity, chemistry to quire into his nature. He desired only to think the mathematics, and anatomy to botany. He of God, what God knows of himself. There he examined systems by experiments, and formed stopped, lest, by indulging his own ideas, he experiments into systems. He neither neglected should form a Deity from his own imagination, the observations of others, nor blindly submitted and sin by falling down before him. To the will to celebrated names. He neither thought so of God he paid an absolute submission, without highly of himself as to imagine he could receive endeavouring to discover the reason of his deterno light from books, nor so meanly as to believe minations; and this he accounted the first and he could discover nothing but what was to be most inviolable duty of a Christian. When he learned from them. He examined the observa- heard of a criminal condemned to die, he used to tions of other men, but trusted only to his own. think, who can tell whether this man is not better than I? or, if I am better, it is not to be ascribed to myself, but to the goodness of God.

As soon as he rose in the morning, it was, throughout his whole life, his daily practice to re-chionis de Sancto Albano historia." tire for an hour to private prayer and meditation this, he often told his friends, gave him spirit and vigour in the business of the day, and this he therefore commended as the best rule of life; for nothing, he knew, could support the soul in all distresses but a confidence in the Supreme Being, nor can a steady and rational magnanimity flow from any other source than a consciousness of the divine favour.

"Doctrinam sacris literis Hebraice et Græce tradi

tam, solam animæ salutarem et agnovit et sensit. Omni opportunitate profitebatur disciplinam, quam Jesus Christus ore et vita expressit, unice tranquillitatem dare menti. Semperque dixit amicis, pacem animi haud re

He asserted on all occasions the divine autho-periundam nisi in magno Mosis præcepto de sincero rity and sacred efficacy of the holy Scriptures; and maintained that they alone taught the way of salvation, and that they only could give peace of mind. The excellency of the Christian religion was the frequent subject of his conversation. A strict obedience to the doctrine, and a diligent imitation of the example of our blessed Saviour, he often declared to be the foundation of true tranquillity. He recommended to his friends a careful observation of the precept of Moses concerning the love of God and man. He worshipped

the parliament; and thinking a bare declaration for right not all the duty of a good man, raised a troop of dragoons for his party, and appeared in the field with so much bravery, that he was in a short time advanced, without mecting any of those obstructions which he had encountered in the university.

Ar a time when a nation is engaged in a war | compliance with those new ceremonies which he with an enemy whose insults, ravages, and bar- was then endeavouring to introduce. barities have long called for vengeance, an ac- When the civil war broke out, Blake, in concount of such English commanders as have me-formity with his avowed principles, declared for rited the acknowledgments of posterity, by extending the powers and raising the honour of their country, seems to be no improper entertainment for our readers.* We shall therefore attempt a succinct narration of the life and actions of Admiral Blake, in which we have nothing farther in view than to do justice to his bravery and conduct, without intending any parallel between his achievements and those of our present admirals. ROBERT BLAKE was born at Bridgewater, in Somersetshire, in August, 1598, his father being a merchant of that place, who had acquired a considerable fortune by the Spanish trade. Of his earliest years we have no account, and therefore can amuse the reader with none of those prognostics of his future actions, so often met with in

memoirs.

ac

In 1645, he was governor of Taunton, when the Lord Goring came before it with an army of 10,000 men. The town was ill fortified and unsupplied with almost every thing necessary for supporting a siege. The state of this garrison encouraged Colonel Windham, who was quainted with Blake, to propose a capitulation; which was rejected by Blake with indignation and contempt: nor were either menaces or persuasion of any effect, for he maintained the In 1615, he entered into the university of Ox-place under all its disadvantages, till the siege was ford, where he continued till 1623, though with- raised by the parliament's army. out being much countenanced or caressed by his superiors, for he was more than once disappointed in his endeavours after academical preferments. It is observable that Mr. Wood (in his Athenæ Oxonienses) ascribes the repulse he met with at Wadham College, where he was competitor for a fellowship, either to want of learning, or of stature. With regard to the first objection, the same writer had before informed us, that he was an early riser and studious, though he sometimes relieved his attention by the amusements of fowling and fishing. As it is highly probable that he did not want capacity, we may therefore conclude, upon this confession of his diligence, that he could not fail of being learned, at least in the degree requisite to the enjoyment of a fellowship; and may safely ascribe his disappointment to his want of stature, it being the custom of Sir Henry Savil, then warden of that college, to pay much regard to the outward appearance of those who solicited preferment in that society. So much do the greatest events owe sometimes to accident or folly!

He continued, on many other occasions, to give proofs of an insuperable courage, and a steadiness of resolution not to be shaken: and, as a proof of his firm adherence to the parliament, joined with the borough of Taunton in returning thanks for their resolution to make no more addresses to the King. Yet was he so far from approving the death of Charles I. that he made no scruple of declaring, that he would venture his life to save him, as willingly as he had done to serve the parliament.

In February, 1648-9, he was made a commissioner of the navy, and appointed to serve on that element, for which he seems by nature to have been designed. He was soon afterwards sent in pursuit of Prince Rupert, whom he shut up in the harbour of Kingsale, in Ireland, for several months, till want of provisions and despair of relief excited the prince to make a daring effort for his escape, by forcing through the parliament's fleet: this design he executed with his usual in trepidity, and succeeded in it, though with the loss of three ships. He was pursued by Blake to the coast of Portugal, where he was received into the Tagus, and treated with great distinction by the Portuguese.

He afterwards retired to his native place, where "he lived," says Clarendon, "without any appearance of ambition to be a greater man than he was, but inveighed with great freedom against the license of the times, and power of the court." Blake coming to the mouth of that river, sent In 1640, he was chosen burgess for Bridge- to the King a messenger, to inform him, that the water by the Puritan party, to whom he had re- fleet in his port belonging to the public enemies of commended himself by the disapprobation of the commonwealth of England, he demanded bishop Laud's violence and severity, and his non-leave to fall upon it. This being refused, though

This life was first printed in the Gentleman's Magagine for the year 1740.-N.

the refusal was in very soft terms, and accompanied with declarations of esteem, and a present of provisions, so exasperated the admiral, that,

without any hesitation, he fell upon the Portuguese fleet, then returning from Brasil, of which he took seventeen ships, and burnt three. It was to no purpose that the King of Portugal, alarmed at so unexpected a destruction, ordered Prince Rupert to attack him, and retake the Brasil ships. Blake carried home his prizes without molestation, the Prince not having force enough to pur-time made uncommon preparations at a vast exsue him, and well pleased with the opportunity of quitting a port where he could no longer be protected.