of mine, and being then seventy miles from London, sent for to be the accountant to the Commissioners of the Glass-Duty, in which service I continued to the determination of their commission.' This appointment he received in 1695, and held it till the suppression of the tax in August 1699. About this time, or somewhat earlier, De Foe became a partner in certain tile-and-brick-kiln works at Tilbury in Essex, and continued to be the acting secretary of the concern for several years. Here he had a countryhouse, overlooking the river Thames, and seems to have lived for some time in thriving circumstances. With his share of the proceeds of the business, and his settled salary as accountant to the Glass Commissioners, he is once more in a condition to pay his way, and by dint of thrift do something to reduce his former debts. As a scheme, perhaps, for raising additional ways and means, he now, in 1796, ventured on the publication of the before-mentioned 'Essay upon Projects.' Herein he descants largely and sensibly on 'politics, commerce, and benevolence.' He expatiates on banks, highways, and bankruptcy; and amongst other things advocates a plan for the promotion of friendly societies, 'formed by mutual assurance, for the relief of the members in seasons of distress.' By way of experiment, he proposes to establish one for the support of destitute widows, and another for the assistance of seamen. 'The same thought,' says he, might be improved into methods that should prevent the general misery and poverty of mankind, and at once secure us against beggars, parishpoor, alms-houses, and hospitals; by which not a creature so miserable or so poor but should claim subsistence as their due, and not ask it of charity.' We have here the seminal idea of all the friendly clubs, savings' banks, and mutual associations, that have since been established in the country. Another of his projects was the formation of institutions for cultivating certain neglected branches of education. He conceived that there might be some academy or society for correcting, purifying, and establishing the English language, such as had been founded in France under Cardinal Richelieu. The work of this society,' says he, 'should be to encourage polite learning, to polish and refine the English tongue, and advance the somuch-neglected faculty of correct language; also to establish purity and propriety of style, and to purge it from all the irregular additions that ignorance and affectation have introduced; and all those innovations of speech, if I may call them such, which some dogmatic writers have the confidence to foster upon their native language, as if their authority were sufficient to make their own fancy legitimate.' A similar notion had been started in the time of Charles II. by Lord Roscommon and the poet Dryden; and when De Foe had thus revived it, it was again renewed by Prior, and subsequently by Swift; though in spite of promises from various influential persons, no attempt was ever made to carry it into practical effect, and it remains to this day as a matter worthy of consideration.

Schemes for military schools, and for lunatic asylums of an educational description, were also ingeniously propounded, and their practicability and advantages very ably stated in this treatise. But perhaps the most interesting of all the author's projects is that of an institution for the better education of young women. As De Foe's remarks on such a subject will tend to illustrate the comparative progress which has been made in female culture since the time at which he wrote, let us here insert some sentences

intellect, however, were undiminished. He scarcely seemed old even at seventy-six. His evening parties at Craigcrook, or at his house in Moray Place, were the special delight of his friends; his acts of generosity and charity and unaffected kindness were still more numerous. Recent circumstances had revived his interest in the 'Edinburgh Review.' His only child, a daughter, was married to Mr Empson, professor of law in the East India College at Haileybury; and in 1847, on the death of Mr Macvey Napier, Mr Empson succeeded to the editorship of that journal from which his illustrious relative had derived such solid and lasting honours. Lord Jeffrey might now be seen in his leisure hours turning over the leaves of a critique destined for publication, and perhaps suggesting some golden thought or happy illustration to be set like a 'coigne of vantage' in the text. He was so engaged within one week of his death! Within four days of that event he sat in court, not having missed a day during the season; and one of his last writings was a letter, full of tenderness, addressed to the widow of his early friend, Sydney Smith, who had sent him a printed copy of the Lectures on Moral Philosophy delivered by Mr Smith so far back as 1806. His early associates and occupations-the names and the duties so long familiar-were thus vividly before him at the last! The closing hours were linked in beautiful sequency and uniformity with the morning splendour. On returning from the court on Tuesday, January 26, 1850, Lord Jeffrey had a slight accession of cold, which brought on his constitutional complaint, bronchitis; fever followed, and at six o'clock on Saturday afternoon, while his medical attendant was in the act of feeling his pulse, life became extinct. His remains were interred in the Western Cemetery, without any funereal pomp, as was his own desire, but mourned deeply and widely with no common sorrow. He had lived and died among his own people; and his native country, amidst her grief, rejoiced, and will long rejoice-in his fame.

DANIEL DE FOE.

AMONG the books which may be reckoned as belonging to the world's

acknowledged stereotypes, there are probably few that have been read more frequently, or proved acceptable to a greater variety of tastes, than the illustrious Robinson Crusoe.' While, however, in connection with this performance the author's name has become so extensively familiar, it is principally by means of it that he continues to be remembered. The generality of modern readers know little of the extent and merit of De Foe's political and controversial writings, or of the conspicuous position which he occupied on account of them with his contemporaries. Having reference chiefly to the disputes and contentions of his times, these productions have naturally lost much of their original interest, and their value has been therefore considerably diminished. It is nevertheless conceived that they are worthy of a more general investigation and attention; and accordingly it is here intended to furnish some account of them, and also to present such an outline of the writer's personal history, character, sufferings, and disappointments, for conscience' sake and otherwise, as can be conveniently rendered within the limits of the present Paper.

De Foe's entire works consist of more than two hundred separate publications, embracing a vast variety of subjects, and all exhibiting evidences of great ability, honesty of intention, and a keen perception of just and wholesome principles. As a politician, he was throughout his whole career the steady advocate of liberal interests, the manly and upright champion of justice, of tolerance, and of all those citizen-rights valued by honest Englishmen. Living in a turbulent era of our history, when the pretensions of rival and selfish factions were agitated with an inveterate and unprincipled animosity, he seems to have been in great part proof against the prevalent contagion, and to have entertained the questions in dispute with a scrupulous regard to their truthfulness or reasonable expediency. By being an honester man than the generality, he became the object of general misapprehension and opprobrium. Few men had more of the world's notice in his day; none more of its calumny and persecution. In a more than ordinary degree he shared the fate of every man who, by genius or cultivation, is in advance of his own times. The party whose aims and schemings he opposed he very naturally offended; but he was also not unfrequently misrepresented and calumniated by the

on the dignity of woman. 'We reproach the sex every day,' says he, 'with folly and impertinence, while I am confident had they the advantages of education equal to us, they would be guilty of less than ourselves.' He complains that the women of his time were taught merely the mechanical parts of knowledge-such as reading, writing, and sewing-instead of being exalted into rational companions; and he argues that men in the same class of society would cut a sorry figure if their education were to be equally neglected. The soul,' he observes, 'was placed in the body like a rough diamond, and must be polished, or the lustre of it will never appear. And it is manifest, that as the rational soul distinguishes us from brutes, so education carries on the distinction, and makes some less brutish than others. Why, then, should women be denied the benefit of instruction? If knowledge and understanding had been useless additions to the sex, God would never have given them capacities, for he made nothing needless. What has woman done to forfeit the privilege of being taught? Does she plague us with her pride and impertinence? Why do we not let her learn, that she may have more wit? Shall we upbraid woman with folly, when it is only the error of this inhuman custom that hinders her being made wiser ? Women, in my observation of them, have little or no difference, but as they are or are not distinguished by education. Tempers, indeed, may in some degree influence them, but the main distinguishing part is their breeding. If a woman be well-bred, and taught the proper management of her natural wit, she proves generally very sensible and retentive and, without partiality, a woman of sense and manners is the finest and most delicate part of God's creation, the glory of her Maker, and the great instance of his singular regard to man, to whom he gave the best gift either God could bestow or man receive: and it is the sordidest piece of folly and ingratitude in the world to withhold from the sex the due lustre which the advantages of education give to the natural beauty of their minds. A woman, well-bred and well taught, furnished with the additional accomplishments of knowledge and behaviour, is a creature without comparison. Her society is the emblem of sublimer enjoyments; she is all softness and sweetness, love, wit, and delight; she is every way suitable to the sublimest wish; and the man that has such a one to his portion has nothing to do but to rejoice in her and be thankful.' Persons imperfectly acquainted with De Foe will have probably been unprepared to give him credit for so much elegance and delicacy of sentiment as are here displayed, and which certainly were nowise very common among the wits and gentlemen of his age.

With regard to the substance and execution of this work, Mr Walter Wilson has accurately remarked, that "it abounds in strong sense, couched in nervous language, and contains some specimens of good writing. His sentiments upon the various topics discussed are delivered with diffidence, but at the same time with becoming freedom; and they discover a versatility of genius, accompanied by correct thinking, that are not often united in the same individual.** It is a book, indeed, which is now but little known, and rarely read, but it is nevertheless in several respects worthy of perusal. Of its sterling and substantial merit there needs no better testimony

*De Foe's Life and Times.

than that of Dr Franklin, who found it in his father's library, and, alluding to it, says, he received impressions from it which influenced some of the principal events of his after-life.

After the publication of this performance De Foe several times exercised his pen in writing pamphlets on various political topics, but produced nothing of any moment till in 1698 he came forward with a tract designed to further the reformation of manners in the nation. The exceeding dissoluteness of the times had offended the moral sense of the constitutional monarch, who had been used to stricter ways, and accordingly, in his speech of the present year, he signified a desire for improvement. 'I esteem it,' said he, 'one of the greatest advantages of the peace (which had lately been concluded), that I shall now have leisure to rectify such corruptions and abuses as have crept into any part of the administration during the war, and effectually to discourage profaneness and immorality.' The House of Commons, in their address to the king shortly afterwards, commended his design, declaring their readiness to support him; and 'in concurrence with his majesty's pious intentions, they most humbly desired that his majesty would issue out his royal proclamation, commanding all judges, justices of the peace, and other magistrates, to put in speedy execution the good laws that were now in force against profaneness and immorality, giving encouragement to all such as did their duty therein.' The king, in reply, said that 'he could not but be very well pleased with an address of this nature, and he would give immediate directions to the several particulars they desired.' Accordingly, a proclamation was issued for preventing and punishing the crimes and vices specified; and the parliament passed a bill to the same effect. In the like spirit the archbishop of Canterbury drew up some 'excellent rules for the government of the clergy,' which he communicated in a circular letter to the bishops of his province. These several proceedings De Foe looked upon with interest, but only with a partial satisfaction, inasmuch as he perceived that the pains and penalties instituted to effect the intended reformation were all likely to have a one-sided and exclusive operation, and would fall mainly, if not entirely, on those classes of society who were called the 'common people.' To serve the cause of these, he therefore published 'The Poor Man's Plea, in relation to all the Proclamations, Declarations, Acts of Parliament, &c. which have been or shall be made, or Published, for a Reformation of Manners, and Suppressing Immorality in the Nation;' and in this production he presented the public with a view of the subject not theretofore considered, and facetiously suggested a variety of reformations which, in his opinion, were required to insure the success of the rigorous measures contemplated.

'In searching for the proper cure of an epidemic disease,' says he, 'physicians tell us it is first necessary to know the cause. Immorality is without doubt the present reigning distemper of the nation; and the king and parliament, who are indeed the proper physicians, seem nobly inclined to undertake the cure. But as a person under the violence of a disease sends in vain for a physician, unless he resolves to make use of his prescription, so in vain does the king attempt to reform a nation, unless they are willing to reform themselves.' After noticing with due commendation the efforts of the public authorities, he says-' These are great things, and, if