for an appointment which determined the course of his future life. His
friend, Du Fay, who was the Intendant of the ‘_Jardin du Roi_’ (now
called the ‘_Jardin des Plantes_’), on his death-bed recommended Buffon
as the person best calculated to give a right direction to this
establishment for the cultivation of natural history. Buffon seized upon
the opportunities which this appointment afforded him of prosecuting his
favourite studies, with that energetic perseverance for which he was
remarkable. He saw that natural history had to be written in a manner
that might render it the most attractive species of knowledge; and that
philosophical views, and eloquent descriptions, might supersede the dry
nomenclatures, and the loose, contradictory, and too-often fabulous
narratives which resulted from the crude labours of ill-informed
compilers. To carry forward his favourite object, it was necessary that
the museum, over which he had now the control, should be put in order
and rendered more complete. He obtained from the government considerable
funds for the erection of proper buildings; and the galleries of the
‘_Jardin des Plantes_,’ which now hold the fine collection of mammals
and birds, were raised under his superintendence. Possessing, therefore,
the most complete means which Europe afforded, he applied himself to the
great task of describing the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms of
nature. A large portion of this immense undertaking was left
unperformed, although, to use his own words, he laboured fifty years at
his desk; and much of what he accomplished was greatly diminished in
value by his determination to see natural objects only through the
clouded medium of his own theories. But, nevertheless, he has produced a
work which, with all its faults, is an extraordinary monument of genius
and industry, and which will long entitle him to the gratitude of
mankind. “We read Buffon,” says Condorcet, “to be interested as well as
instructed. He will continue to excite a useful enthusiasm for the
natural sciences; and the world will long be indebted to him for the
pleasures with which a young mind for the first time looks into nature
and the consolations with which a soul weary of the storms of life
reposes upon the sight of the immensity of beings peaceably submitted to
necessary and eternal laws.”
Buffon was in some particulars unqualified for the laborious duty he had
undertaken. He delighted to indulge in broad and general views, and to
permit his imagination to luxuriate in striking descriptions. But he had
neither the patience, nor the love of accuracy, which would have carried
him into those minute details which give to natural history its highest
value. He, however, had the merit and the good fortune, in the early
stages of his undertaking, to associate himself with a fellow-labourer
who possessed those qualities in which he was deficient. The first
fifteen volumes of ‘_L’Histoire Naturelle_,’ which treat of the theory
of the earth, the nature of animals, and the history of man and
viviparous quadrupeds, were published between 1749 and 1767, as the
joint work of Buffon and Daubenton. The general theories, the
descriptions of the phenomena of nature, and the pictures of the habits
of animals, were by Buffon. Daubenton confined himself to the precise
delineation of their physical character, both in their external forms
and their anatomy. But Daubenton refused to continue his assistance in
the ‘History of Birds;’ for Buffon, unwilling that the fame which he had
acquired should be partaken by one whom he considered only as a humble
and subordinate labourer, allowed an edition of the History of
Quadrupeds to be published, of which the descriptive and anatomical
parts had been greatly abridged. In the History of Birds, therefore,
Buffon had to seek for other associates; and the form of the work was
greatly changed from that of the previous volumes. The particular
descriptions are here very meagre, and anatomical details are almost
entirely excluded. In some of the volumes, Buffon was assisted by
Guéneau de Montbeillard, who, instead of endeavouring to attain the
accuracy of Daubenton, affected to imitate the style of his employer. To
the three last volumes of the Birds the Abbé Bexon lent his aid. The
nine volumes of Birds appeared between 1770 and 1783. Buffon published
alone his ‘History of Minerals,’ which appeared in five volumes, between
1783 and 1788. Seven volumes of Supplements complete the Natural
History. The first appeared in 1773; the last was not published till the
year after its author’s death, in 1789. The fifth volume of these
Supplements is a distinct work, the Epochs of Nature[3].
Footnote 3:
The best edition of the works of Buffon is the first, of 36 vols. 4to.
The study of natural history, and the composition of his great work,
occupied the mind of Buffon from his first appointment as Intendant of
the ‘_Jardin du Roi_,’ to within a few days of his death. In the
prosecution of the plan he had laid down, he never permitted the
slightest interruption. Pleasure and indolence had their
attractions;—but they never held him for many hours from his favourite
pursuits. Buffon spent the greater part of his time at Montbar, where,
during some years, his friend Daubenton also resided. It was here that
Buffon composed nearly the whole of his works. Many interesting details
have been preserved of his habits of life, and his mode of composition.
He was, like all men who have accomplished great literary undertakings,
a severe economist of his time. The employment of every day was fixed
with the greatest exactness. He used almost invariably to rise at five
o’clock, compelling his man-servant to drag him out of bed whenever he
was unwilling to get up. “I owe to poor Joseph,” he used to say, “ten or
twelve volumes of my works.” At the end of his garden was a pavilion
which served him as a study. Here he was seated for many hours of every
day, in an old leathern chair, before a table of black birch, with his
papers arranged in a large walnut-tree escritoire. Before he began to
write he was accustomed to meditate for a long time upon his subject.
Composition was to him a real delight; and he used to declare that he
had spent twelve or fourteen hours successively at his desk, continuing
to the last in a state of pleasure. His endeavours to obtain the utmost
correctness of expression furnished a remarkable proof of the
persevering quality of his mind. He composed, and copied, and read his
works to friends, and re-copied, till he was entirely satisfied. It is
said that he made eleven transcripts of the Epochs of Nature. In his
domestic habits there was little to admire in the character of Buffon.
His conversation was trifling and licentious, and the grossness which
too often discloses itself in his writings was ill-concealed in his own
conduct. He paid the most minute attention to dress, and delighted in
walking to church to exhibit his finery to his wondering neighbours.
Although he was entirely devoid of religious principle, and constantly
endeavoured in his writings to throw discredit upon the belief of a
great First Cause, he regularly attended high mass, received the
communion, and distributed alms to pious beggars. In his whole character
there appears a total absence of that simplicity which is the
distinguishing attribute of men of the very highest genius.
The literary glory of Buffon, although surpassed, or even equalled,
during his life, by none of his contemporaries, with the exception
perhaps of Voltaire and Rousseau, has not increased, and is perhaps
materially diminished, after having been tried by the opinions of half a
century. In literature, as well as in politics, as we have learnt to
attach a greater value to accurate facts, have we become less captivated
by the force of eloquence alone. Buffon gave an extraordinary impulse to
the love of natural history, by surrounding its details with splendid
images, and escaping from its rigid investigations by bold and dazzling
theories. He rejected classification; and took no pains to distinguish
by precise names the objects which he described, because such accuracy
would have impeded the progress of his magnificent generalizations.
Without classification, and an accurate nomenclature, natural history is
a mere chaos. Buffon saw the productions of nature only in masses. He
made no endeavour to delineate with perfect accuracy any individual of
that immense body, nor to trace the relations of an individual to all
the various forms of being by which it is surrounded. Although he was a
profound admirer of Newton, and classed Bacon amongst the most
illustrious of men, he constantly deviated from the principle of that
philosophy upon which all modern discovery has been founded. He carried
onward his hypotheses with little calculation and less experiment. And
yet, although they are often misapplied, he has collected an astonishing
number of facts; and even many of his boldest generalities have been
based upon a sufficient foundation of truth, to furnish important
assistance to the investigations of more accurate inquirers. The
persevering obliquity with which he turns away from the evidence of
Design in the creation, to rest upon some vague notions of a
self-creative power, both in animate and inanimate existence, is one of
the most unpleasant features of his writings. How much higher services
might Buffon have rendered to natural history had he been imbued not
only with a spirit of accurate and comprehensive classification, but
with a perception of the constant agency of a Creator, of both of which
merits he had so admirable an example in our own Ray.
The style of Buffon, viewed as an elaborate work of art, and without
regard to the great object of style, that of conveying thoughts in the
clearest and simplest manner, is captivating from its sustained harmony
and occasional grandeur. But it is a style of a past age. Even in his
own day, it was a theme for ridicule with those who knew the real force
of conciseness and simplicity. Voltaire described it as ‘_empoulé_;’ and
when some one talked to him of ‘_L’Histoire Naturelle_,’ he drily
replied, ‘_Pas si naturelle_.’ But Buffon was not carried away by the
mere love of fine writing. He knew his own power; and, looking at the
state of science in his day, he seized upon the instrument which was
best calculated to elevate him amongst his contemporaries. The very
exaggerations of his style were perhaps necessary to render natural
history at once attractive to all descriptions of people. Up to his time
it had been a dry and repulsive study. He first clothed it with the
picturesque and poetical; threw a moral sentiment around its commonest
details; exhibited animals in connection with man, in his mightiest and
most useful works; and described the great phenomena of nature with a
pomp of language which had never before been called to the service of
philosophical investigation. The publication of his works carried the
study of natural history out of the closets of the few, to become a
source of delight and instruction to all men.
Buffon died at Paris on the 16th April, 1788, aged 81. He was married,
in 1762, to Mademoiselle de St. Bélin; and he left an only son, who
succeeded to his title. This unfortunate young man perished on the
scaffold, in 1795, almost one of the last victims of the fury of the
revolution. When he ascended to the guillotine he exclaimed, with great
composure, “My name is Buffon.”
A succinct and clear memoir of Buffon, by Cuvier, in the _Biographie
Universelle_, may be advantageously consulted. Nearly all the details of
his private life are derived from a curious work by Rénault de
Séchelles, entitled _Voyage à Montbar_, which, like many other domestic
histories of eminent men, has the disgrace of being founded upon a
violation of the laws of hospitality.
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
_Engraved by R. Woodman._
SIR THOMAS MORE.
_From an Enamel after Holbein,
in the possession of Thomas Clarke Esq._
Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
Knowledge.
_London, Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
]
[Illustration]
MORE.
This great man was born in London, in the year 1480. His father was Sir
John More, one of the Judges of the King’s Bench, a gentleman of
established reputation. He was early placed in the family of Cardinal
Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Lord Chancellor of England. The
sons of the gentry were at this time sent into the families of the first
nobility and leading statesmen, on an equivocal footing; partly for the
finishing of their education, and partly in a menial capacity. The
Cardinal said more than once to the nobility who were dining with him,
“This boy waiting at table, whosoever lives to see it, will one day
prove a marvellous man.” His eminent patron was highly delighted with
that vivacity and wit which appeared in his childhood, and did not
desert him on the scaffold. Plays were performed in the archiepiscopal
household at Christmas. On these occasions young More would play the
improvisatore, and introduce an extempore part of his own, more amusing
to the spectators than all the rest of the performance. In due time
Morton sent him to Oxford, where he heard the lectures of Linacer and
Grocyn on the Greek and Latin languages. The epigrams and translations
printed in his works evince his skill in both. After a regular course of
rhetoric, logic, and philosophy, at Oxford, he removed to London, where
he became a law student, first in New Inn, and afterwards in Lincoln’s
Inn. He gained considerable reputation by reading public lectures on
Saint Augustine, De Civitate Dei, at Saint Lawrence’s church in the Old
Jewry. The most learned men in the city of London attended him; among
the rest Grocyn, his lecturer in Greek at Oxford, and a writer against
the doctrines of Wickliff. The object of More’s prolusions was not so
much to discuss points in theology, as to explain the precepts of moral
philosophy, and clear up difficulties in history. For more than three
years after this he was Law-reader at Furnival’s Inn. He next removed to
the Charter-House, where he lived in devotion and prayer; and it is
stated that from the age of twenty he wore a hair-shirt next his skin.
He remained there about four years, without taking the vows, although he
performed all the spiritual exercises of the society, and had a strong
inclination to enter the priesthood. But his spiritual adviser, Dr.
Colet, Dean of St. Paul’s, recommended him to adopt a different course.
On a visit to a gentleman of Essex, by name Colt, he was introduced to
his three daughters, and became attached to the second, who was the
handsomest of the family. But he bethought him that it would be both a
grief and a scandal to the eldest to see her younger sister married
before her. He therefore reconsidered his passion, and from motives of
pity prevailed with himself to be in love with the elder, or at all
events to marry her. Erasmus says that she was young and uneducated, for
which her husband liked her the better, as being more capable of
conforming to his own model of a wife. He had her instructed in
literature, and especially in music.
He continued his study of the law at Lincoln’s Inn, but resided in
Bucklersbury after his marriage. His first wife lived about seven years.
By her he had three daughters and one son; and we are informed by his
son-in-law, Roper, that he brought them up with the most sedulous
attention to their intellectual and moral improvement. It was a quaint
exhortation of his, that they should take virtue and learning for their
meat, and pleasure for their sauce.
In the latter part of King Henry the Seventh’s time, and at a very early
age, More distinguished himself in parliament. The King had demanded a
subsidy for the marriage of his eldest daughter, who was to be the
Scottish Queen. The demand was not complied with. On being told that his
purpose had been frustrated by the opposition of a beardless boy, Henry
was greatly incensed, and determined on revenge. He knew that the actual
offender, not possessing anything, could not lose anything; he therefore
devised a groundless charge against the father, and confined him to the
Tower till he had extorted a fine of £100 for his alleged offence. Fox,
Bishop of Winchester, a privy councillor, insidiously undertook to
reinstate young More in the King’s favour: but the Bishop’s Chaplain
warned him not to listen to any such proposals; and gave a pithy reason
for the advice, highly illustrative of Fox’s real character. “To serve
the King’s purposes, my lord and master will not hesitate to consent to
his own father’s death.” To avoid evil consequences, More determined to
go abroad. With this view, he made himself master of the French
language, and cultivated the liberal sciences, as astronomy, geometry,
arithmetic, and music; he also made himself thoroughly acquainted with
history: but in the mean time the King’s death rendered it safe to
remain in England, and he abandoned all thoughts of foreign travel.
Notwithstanding his practice at the bar, and his lectures, which were
quoted by Lord Coke as undisputed authority, he found leisure for the
pursuits of philosophy and polite literature. In 1516 he wrote his
Utopia, the only one of his works which has commanded much of public
attention in after times. In general they were chiefly of a polemic
kind, in defence of a cause which even his abilities could not make
good. But in this extraordinary work he allowed his powerful mind fair
play, and considered both mankind and religion with the freedom of a
true philosopher. He represents Utopia as one of those countries lately
discovered in America, and the account of it is feigned to be given by a
Portuguese, who sailed in company with the first discoverer of that part
of the world. Under the character of this Portuguese he delivers his own
opinions. His History of Richard III. was never finished, but it is
inserted in Kennet’s Complete History of England. Among his other
eminent acquaintance, he was particularly attached to Erasmus. They had
long corresponded before they were personally known to each other.
Erasmus came to England for the purpose of seeing his friend; and it was
contrived that they should meet at the Lord Mayor’s table before they
were introduced to each other. At dinner they engaged in argument.
Erasmus felt the keenness of his antagonist’s wit; and when hard
pressed, exclaimed, “You are More, or nobody;” the reply was, “You are
Erasmus, or the Devil.”
Before More entered definitively into the service of Henry VIII. his
learning, wisdom, and experience were held in such high estimation, that
he was twice sent on important commercial embassies. His discretion in
those employments made the King desirous of securing him for the service
of the court; and he commissioned Wolsey, then Lord Chancellor, to
engage him. But so little inclined was he to involve himself in
political intrigues, that the King’s wish was not at the time
accomplished. Soon after, More was retained as counsel for the Pope, for
the purpose of reclaiming the forfeiture of a ship. His argument was so
learned, and his conduct in the cause so judicious and upright, that the
ship was restored. The King upon this insisted on having him in his
service; and, as the first step to preferment, made him Master of the
Requests, a Knight and Privy Councillor.
In 1520 he was made Treasurer of the Exchequer: he then bought a house
by the river-side at Chelsea, where he had settled with his family. He
had at that time buried his first wife and was married to a second. He
continued in the King’s service full twenty years, during which time his
royal master conferred with him on various subjects, including
astronomy, geometry, and divinity; and frequently consulted him on his
private concerns. More’s pleasant temper and witty conversation made him
such a favourite at the palace, as almost to estrange him from his own
family; and under these circumstances his peculiar humour manifested
itself; for he so restrained the natural bias of his freedom and mirth
as to render himself a less amusing companion, and at length to be
seldom sent for but on occasions of business.
A more important circumstance gave More much consequence with the King.
The latter was preparing his answer to Luther, and Sir Thomas assisted
him in the controversy. While this was going on, the King one day came
to dine with him; and after dinner walked with him in the garden with
his arm round his neck. After Henry’s departure, Mr. Roper, Sir Thomas’s
son-in-law, remarked on the King’s familiarity, as exceeding even that
used towards Cardinal Wolsey, with whom he had only once been seen to
walk arm in arm. The answer of Sir Thomas was shrewd and almost
prophetic. “I find his Grace my very good lord indeed, and I believe he
doth as singularly favour me as any subject within this realm. However,
Son Roper, I may tell thee, I have no cause to be proud thereof; for if
my head would win him a castle in France it should not fail to go.”
In 1523 he was chosen Speaker of the House of Commons, and displayed
great intrepidity in the discharge of that office. Wolsey was afraid
lest this parliament should refuse a great subsidy about to be demanded,
and announced his intention of being present at the debate. He had
previously expressed his indignation at the publicity given to the
proceedings of the house, which he had compared to the gossip of an
ale-house. Sir Thomas More therefore persuaded the members to admit not
only the Cardinal, but all his pomp; his maces, poll-axes, crosses, hat,
and great seal. The reason he assigned was, that should the like fault
be imputed to them hereafter, they might be able to shift the blame on
the shoulders of his Grace’s attendants. The proposal of the subsidy was
met with the negative of profound silence; and the Speaker declared that
“except every member could put into his one head all their several wits,
he alone in so weighty a matter was unmeet to make his Grace answer.”
After the parliament had broken up, Wolsey expressed his displeasure
against the Speaker in his own gallery at Whitehall; but More, with his
usual quiet humour, parried the attack by a ready compliment to the
taste and splendour of the room in which they were conversing.
On the death of Sir Richard Wingfield, the King promoted Sir Thomas to
the Chancellorship of the Duchy of Lancaster. At this time the see of
Rome became vacant, and Wolsey aspired to the Papacy; but Charles V.
disappointed him, and procured the election of Cardinal Adrian. In
revenge, Wolsey contrived to persuade Henry that Catharine was not his
lawful wife, and endeavoured to turn his affections towards one of the
French King’s sisters. The case was referred to More, who was assisted
by the most learned of the Privy Council; and he managed, difficult as
it must have been to do so, to extricate both himself and his colleagues
from the dilemma. His conduct as ambassador at Cambray, where a treaty
of peace was negotiated between the Emperor, France, and England, so
confirmed the favour of his master towards him, that on the fall of the
Cardinal he was made Lord Chancellor. The great seal was delivered to
him on the 25th of October, 1530. This favour was the more
extraordinary, as he was the first layman on whom it was bestowed: but
it may reasonably be suspected that the private motive was to engage him
in the approval of the meditated divorce. This he probably suspected,
and entered on the office with a full knowledge of the danger to which
it exposed him. He performed the duties of his function for nearly three
years with exemplary diligence, great ability, and uncorrupted
integrity. His resignation took place on the 16th May, 1533. His motive
was supposed to be a regard to his own safety, as he was sensible that a
confirmation of the divorce would be officially required from him, and
he was too conscientious to comply with the mandate of power, against
his own moral and legal convictions.
While Chancellor some of his injunctions were disapproved by the common
law judges. He therefore invited them to dine with him in the council
chamber, and proved to them by professional arguments that their
complaints were unfounded. He then proposed that they should themselves
mitigate the rigour of the law by their own conscientious discretion; in
which case, he would grant no more injunctions. This they refused; and
the consequence was, that he continued that practice in equity which has
come down to the present day.
It was through the intervention of his friend the Duke of Norfolk that
he procured his discharge from the laborious, and under the
circumstances of the time, the dangerous eminence of the chancellorship,
which he quitted in honourable poverty. After the payment of his debts
he had not the value of one hundred pounds in gold and silver, nor more
than twenty marks a year in land. On this occasion his love of a jest
did not desert him. While Chancellor, as soon as the church service was
over, one of his train used to go to his lady’s pew, and say, “Madam, my
Lord is gone!” On the first holiday after his train had been dismissed,
he performed that ceremony himself, and by saying at the end of the
service, “Madam, my Lord is gone,” gave his wife the first intimation
that he had surrendered the great seal.