1 late affair might have taken, no preconcerted plan of proceeding appears upon evidence, no scheme of aggrandizement, nor a single intention inimical to the general interest, further than irregular and daring demands, incompatible perhaps with armed fubordina tion, but not so inconfiftent with equity; nor meanly valued, or flightly understood by the dictators of the ocean. Inconfiderate tars! in whom the endurance of peril and fatigue had superseded justness of reflection, overstepping the bounds which parliament, in its wifdom, thought equitable, asking they had not digested what, and complaining they had not well confidered why. A fet of vitiated journalists, the hirelings of a day, the rank scions of a free press! seize the happy occafion, and, at a loss for a name whereon to wreak their personalities, the forte of all the venomed tribe," they exalt into celebrity, or hold up to infamy, the name of Richard Parker, who in their details is inade to affume more shapes than Prometheus himself. Unbiassed by public rumour, unsnared in the goadings of venality, unentangled in the Machiavelian cry of state-neceffity, or ministerial contradiction, in common with the compaffionate (and it is hoped difcerning part of the nation) we viewed with regret the overwhelming efforts against the president of a committee, whose associates had asked for a removal of grievances confessed, and were treated with contempt; who had complained, and were answered with filence; who refolutely threatened, and were dreaded, foothed, and half-redressed. A conduct more likely to court fresh demands than the weakness of our nature could * For two reasons: the chiefest humanity; the other arifing from an intimate acquaintance with the characteristic of feamen, which attaches them together in peril, creates even love for the thip, though no living foul remain on board with whom he has failed-and a thorough conviction of the policy of a well-timed act of grace. 1 have have advised. This man, whose actions have been racked, his words distorted, and his death accelerated, with one bold stroke of the pen put to flight all the courage of a horde, and with another of moderation, determined his own fate, whilst he allayed the dubious fears of pretended patriots, and felf-convicted sycophants. The page of history already faulters at the recital; and twenty years may not elapse ere a new Smollet will essay to vindicate another Byng*. The purposes of biography vary according to the subject on which it dilates. The pious and good man is held up to our veneration, the moralist to instruct us, the man of science to spur our imitative powers, and the example of genius excites emulation. The exit of a desperado forms an awful anti-climax to the narration of his wicked courses; while he who sinks under oppreffion, chicane, or misfortune, claims in filence our commiferation, and every link of humanity would fly to his aid, even though the mild precepts of christianity did not command our obfervance of this second law of nature. But, if the different species of biography are thus distinctively marked, there is one point which should concentrate the whole that is, in doing justice to its fubject; a genera of the ars fcribendi, not over numerous. This quality is indispensibly requifite, where the public opinion has been goaded into an excess of deteftation, or the contrary, and this will (as it ought) pervade the present Memoirs of RICHARD PARKER. The parish of St. Mary Major, in the City of Exeter, gave birth to Richard Parker, in the year 1763. His father (of the same name) had three children * This brave seaman had been executed SO LONG before any reputable writer prefumed to think him innocent. No one now doubts, that he was sacrificed to party. 1 E 3 1. John, 1. John, now living; 2. Richard, the subject of these memoirs; and 3. a daughter, who died at the age of maturity: having encreased his paternal inheritance, as a respectable baker, to 200l. per annum, he retired about eight years fince, hoping to pass in quiet through the vale of life. Old Mr. Parker still refides at the aforementioned city, cherishing with becoming ardour the unfathered offspring, and more than manly relict, of his much-to-be-lamented fon. The family connections of the Parkers are respectable, and it is believed derive their defcent, collaterally, from John Parker of Bunington, who in the reign of Elizabeth served the office of sheriff for the county, as several of his successors did in the reign of James I. Charles I. and James II.; at least, Richard piqued himself on his worthy ancestry in the north of Devon, while the correctness of this deduction is by no means quite obvious.. The youth of Richard, befides the tricks incident to juvenility, did not exhibit any extraordinary traits; nor is he remembered to have atchieved aught which could warrant a belief, that he might one day meet death in a way which different difpofitions will think heroic, or term disgraceful. At the proper age, he was placed at a grammar-school in the neighbourhood; but his progress in these fort of studies was not fuch as to meet the fanguine expectation of his parents; and an abortive attempt to controul his paffion for a fealife, adds one more proof to thofe alre already extant, that the mind, unlike the body, cannot be shackled. D. * Bunington is 23 miles north of Exeter, in the county of Devon. We give our information as Apocryphal, and with to be fet right. (To be continued.) PHYSIOGNOMY T PHYSIOGNOMY OF PENS*. MR. EDITOR, HE public are much indebted to an ingenious "Searcher," for bringing forward a science fo very interesting as that of the "Physiognomy of Pens:" and I lament that a person, seemingly so well qualified, has not pursued his researches a little farther, and devoted a small portion more of his time to the investigation of his subject. But since he seems to have declined the enquiry, I have, with confiderable reluctance, been induced to take upon me the correction of fome errors which he has committed, and an endeavour to place the subject in a more clear and rational point of view. There is scarcely an individual of any observation or experince in the world, who can deny the truth of phyhognomy. Every person whom we meet with has fomething marked in his countenance, which reflects some property of his mind. We can generally discover, upon the first view, whether the difpofition of a man be morose or gentle; whether he be an ideot or a man of genius. But I do not imagine that the result of all our enquiries, willever enable us to form any idea of the symmetry, or particular make of an author's face, by the perusal of his writings, Shenstone professed only to decypher in the hand-writing of a person the inflexions of his mind: nor do I think that we can pursue this science any farther, than to trace in the matter written, the peculiar elegance, delicacy, and sensibility of the writer's mind. Dr. Adam Smith, in his "Theory of Moral Sentiment," has, in an essay on sympathy, clearly demonArated, that our sensations nearly alike are very on * Vide vol. .i. p. 219, where the present enquiry originated, viewing viewing the same object. The fame arguments will hold equally good in mental vision; not only as it regards two or more persons who read the fame work, but likewise as it respects the sympathy which exists between an author and his readers. For on the perufal of a book we generally experience the fame feel ings, and nearly the same sensations have felt in the composition. If his imagination traverse the wide region of imaginary worlds, we follow through every scene, and are equally captivated with their beauties; if he defcend to the miseries and calamities of mankind, still are we with him, and affected by every anguish which he depicts; if he employ the powers of his intellect in metaphyfical enquiry and logical deduction, we accompany him through every abstract reasoning, experience the fame doubts, and are convinced by nearly the fame arguments. Thus, through a spirit of sympathy we are enabled, to a confiderable degree of truth and correctness, to afcertain the excellence and beauty of a writer's mental qualities. And when he relates the tale of woe, and paints the misery and distress in which he heartily sympathizes, his feelings will dictate language which shall impress it with the fame force on, and convey it with equal energy to, the mind of his reader. In reading the productions of an author, the generality of mankind are seldom led to form a proper estimate of his mental beautics. The reason appears to me to be, the mistaken idea which they entertain of writers, and of their particular province, latitude, and power. Persons unaccustomed to writing, think nothing more is requifite to captivate the fancy and awaken the sensibility of a reader, than a fertile imagination, an easy flow of words, and a choice collection of phrafes. This may be true in part. But the heart of him who is insensible to the calls of humanity, which meits not at the distresses of mankind, and stands unmoved at the most soothing cloquence of affliction, can never |