JOHN JAMES, a celebrated literary character, born at Cassis, a little sea-port on the shores of the Mediterranean, in January 1716. At twelve years of age he was sent to school at Marseilles. Being admitted into the college of the oratory, he was put under the care of Father Renaud, a person of taste and wit, who soon discovered similar qualities in his pupil, and became uncommonly attentive to his progress. M. de Visclède, a man of letters, and friend to the former, also concurred with him in his endeavours; and young Barthélemy's career soon became equally rapid and brilliant.

He had resolved to dedicate himself to the church; but, in order to qualify himself, it became necessary to change his place of residence, since M. de Belzunce, bishop of Marseilles, being actuated by a narrow jealousy, refused to admit to holy orders the students of the oratory. Barthélemy, therefore, quitting his old masters with regret, found himself under the necessity of studying philosophy and theology under the Jesuits.

As he had not at first the good fortune to fall into able hands, he determined to follow a private plan of education, independently of the professors. He accordingly applied himself to the ancient languages, and was indefatigable in acquiring a knowledge of the Greek, Hebrew, Chaldee, and Syriac. His passion for learning, however, had nearly cost him his life; for he fell dangerously ill, and did not recover his strength until he had entered the seminary where he received the tonsure.

In this retreat he dedicated his leisure hours to the study of Arabic; and a young Maronite, who had been educated at Rome, having afforded him assistance, he was soon able not only to read, but even to speak that language. By way of return, his new friend proposed to him to render all the services in his power to the Maronites, Armenians, and other Catholic Arabians, who were but slightly acquainted with the language of the country in which they resided; in other words, he expressed a wish that Barthélemy would announce the word of God to them in their native tongue, and accordingly presented him with some Arabic sermons composed by a Jesuit who had belonged to the Propaganda. Accordingly, Barthélemy got one or two of them by heart, and pronounced them in a spacious hall belonging to the seminary, to the entire satisfaction of his oriental auditors.

His reputation now rose high, and he began to be considered a youth of uncommon promise, when a trifling incident occurred which tended not a little to increase his fame. Ten or twelve of the principal merchants of Marseilles one day introduced to him a person who had implored their charity on the exchange. The stranger described himself as a Jew by birth, who, on account of his great learning, had been raised to the dignity of rabbi, but who, perceiving from his researches that the Christian was the true religion, had become a convert to that faith; adding, at the same time, that he was profoundly instructed in the oriental languages, and desired to be put to the proof by being confronted with some learned man. Barthélemy, not then twenty-one years of age, was immediately pitched upon. It was in vain he assured his friends that although he could read he was unable to speak the languages in question. They pressed him to enter into conversation with the native of the East; and the stranger himself entertained that the conference might immediately commence. The challenge was at length accepted, and the foreigner began the contest, from which Barthélemy retired with the character of a prodigy of oriental learning.

Barthélemy having now finished his education at the seminary, retired to Aubagne, and spent some time in the bosom of his family, by all the members of which he was greatly beloved. He was accustomed, however, to repair frequently to Marseilles, in order to visit the academicians and other learned men residing there. Among those to whom he attached himself in a particular manner was a M. Cary, the possessor of a fine cabinet of medals, and a valuable collection of books adapted to the favourite subject of his pursuits and studies. They spent whole days together in conversing on literary subjects; after which Barthélemy, as if insatiable of knowledge, would retire to the Minims, where Father Sigaloux, a correspondent of the Academy of Sciences, was employed in making astronomical observations. In these labours the young abbé became his associate, for he was ambitious of improving in every kind of knowledge.

But he at length began to perceive, that, in order to render his studies profitable, it would be necessary to circumscribe them; as mediocrity of knowledge, the inevitable result of diversity of application, was but little preferable to ignorance itself. Impressed with these sentiments, he repaired to Paris in 1744, with the view of devoting himself entirely to literature. He was furnished with a letter to M. de Boze, keeper of the medals, and perpetual secretary of inscriptions and belles lettres. This learned man, so estimable in every point of view, received him with great politeness, and introduced him to the acquaintance of the most distinguished members of the three academies, who dined twice a week at his apartments. Mixing with society of this kind, Barthélemy became more deeply enamoured of letters than ever, and of those who cultivated them. M. de Boze, having in the meanwhile carefully studied the character and disposition of the young man, at length favoured him with his friendship, and even with his confidence; at least he conferred on him as much of these as was possible for a man of so much circumspection and reserve to bestow on any one. As the increasing age and declining health of M. de Boze no longer admitted of his applying with the intense devotion necessary for the completion of the cabinet of medals, he entertained some thoughts of associating M. de Bastie, a learned antiquary belonging to the academy of inscriptions, as a partner in his labours. But that gentleman lost the appointment, in consequence of an unlucky expression; Barthélemy was selected a few months afterwards; and the nomination was approved of by M. Bignon the librarian, and Maurepas the minister of the department. From that moment the abbé dedicated both his days and nights to the study of those medals which his colleague had been prevented by his infirmities from arranging.

Amidst his multiplied occupations, Barthélemy began to enjoy a mode of life so conformable to his taste and his talents, when he beheld with concern a new career present itself. In the course of his journey to the capital he had seen M. de Bausset, then a canon at Aix. They were friends and countrymen; for M. de Bausset was born at Aubagne, where his family had long been established. As he was a young man of considerable expectations, he had promised that Barthélemy should become his vicar-general the moment he himself was decorated with the mitre. Such a flattering offer was not to be rejected; and as the canon had just been nominated to the bishopric of Beziers, he did not fail to remind his old acquaintance of their mutual engagement. The regret felt by the medallist on this occasion was unaffected and real; but he was too scrupulous an observer of his word to break his promise; and the prelate, who saw and felt for the embarrassment of Barthélemy, immediately desisted from his importunities.

On the death of M. de Boze, keeper of the cabinet of medals, in 1753, Barthélemy, who had been his colleague during seven years, expected of course to succeed him in that honourable situation. One person, however, appeared as a candidate; and notwithstanding the abbé, relying on the justice of his pretensions, took no step whatever to obtain the appointment, the zeal of his friends, who were both numerous and powerful, rendered all solicitations on his part unnecessary. M. de Malesherbes, whose unfortunate and tragic death was universally deplored; M. de Stainville, afterwards a duke and minister; and M. de Gontaut, brother of the last marshal de Biron; supported his pretensions, and he was accordingly nominated successor to his friend in 1753.

M. de Stainville, afterwards better known during his administration by the title of duke de Choiseul, being appointed ambassador to Rome in 1754, Madame de Stainville, a lady both young and beautiful, as well as passionately attached to learning and learned men, conceived a particular regard for the abbé; and it was proposed that he should occupy a place in their carriage on this occasion, and make the tour of Italy along with them. Such a proposition could not fail to be highly flattering; but he was obliged, from principles of duty, to refrain for a time from complying with their wishes. He set out soon after, however, and in November arrived at Rome, where he and his companion were received and treated in the kindest manner by the French plenipotentiary, who lived in magnificent style. Pope Benedict XIV, who then wore the tiara, and was a learned man himself, did not fail to distinguish Barthélemy by the most courteous reception. But his stay at Rome was not of long duration; for he was desirous of visiting Naples, rendered particularly interesting to an antiquary, at that period, by the recent discoveries made in its neighbourhood. During a whole month he and his fellow-traveller were occupied in admiring the curiosities of that capital, and in studying ancient literature; after which they took a journey of thirty leagues to examine the monuments of Grecian architecture still extant amidst the splendid ruins of the ancient city of Pестum.

But the spacious apartments of the palace of Portici, containing the antiquities of Herculaneum and Pompei, were still more interesting, and excited a higher degree of curiosity in the breasts of the French philosophers. There they beheld an immense quantity of paintings, statues, busts, vases, and utensils of every kind; objects peculiarly calculated to engage their attention and excite their admiration. It was not, however, without a certain mixture of grief and surprise that they noticed the four or five hundred manuscripts, saved from the ruins of Herculaneum, lying in the same forlorn state in which they were discovered. Two or three only had been unrolled, of which the learned Mazocchi has given an explanation; but as these contained nothing important, the operation was abandoned. Barthélemy, however, was not so easily discouraged; for he unceasingly solicited, nay, he almost condescended to intrigue, with a view to engage the possessors of these treasures to turn them to the best advantage. But, a few years afterwards, when his labours were about to be crowned with success, he was finally disappointed by the death of the Marquis Caraccioli, the minister of Naples, who had entered most cordially into his views.

Another subject about this time also engaged the attention of the abbé. He was exceedingly desirous of presenting the learned men of France with a specimen of the ancient writing employed in the Greek manuscripts. He accordingly addressed himself on this subject to his friend Mazocchi, and also to M. Paderno, who superintended the treasures of Portici; but both replied that they were expressly enjoined not to make any communication on the subject. On this he solicited permission to look, for a few minutes only, on a page of a manuscript which had been cut from top to bottom since its discovery. It contained twenty-eight lines, and Barthélemy read it over six different times with extreme attention, after which he retired to a corner and transcribed the precious fragment on a piece of paper, from memory. He then returned, and having made a mental collation between the copy and the original, he corrected two or three trifling errors that had escaped his attention. And having thus rendered himself master of a fac-simile of the manuscript, which related to the persecution of the Greek philosophers during the time of Pericles, he transmitted the literary plunder in the course of that very day to the Academy of Belles Lettres; strictly enjoining secrecy, however, that Mazocchi and Paderno might escape all manner of blame.

M. de Stainville having been appointed ambassador to the court of Vienna in 1757, the abbé accompanied his lady thither. On his arrival he found that his friend and protector had made certain engagements with the French ministry with the view of gratifying his passion for antiquities; and, in consequence, he received permission to visit, at the king's expense, Greece and the sea-ports of the Mediterranean, where he was to collect new treasures, and return with them to his native country by Marseilles. But notwithstanding all the attractions which this project presented, his scrupulous attachment to his duty prevailed over his passion for knowledge; and as he deemed it highly improper that the cabinet of medals should remain so long shut, he abandoned the scheme of visiting the Levant. At length, towards the end of 1758, M. de Stainville, now become duke de Choiseul, was nominated minister for foreign affairs, in the room of the abbé de Bernis, who had retired with a cardinal's hat. No sooner had this event taken place, than both the duke and his lady determined to provide for their friend. They accordingly requested Barthélemy to state the sum which would make him easy for life; and he instantly mentioned 6000 livres a year, blushing at the same time at the largeness of the demand.

As the national purse was now open to the minister, he distributed his favours with a liberal hand; and it must be owned that, on this occasion, an object worthy of remuneration presented itself in the person of the learned abbé. Accordingly, in 1759, the duke presented him with a pension on the archbishopric of Alby; in 1765 he conferred on him the treasurership of St Martin de Tours; and, in 1768, he made him secretary-general to the Swiss guards. In addition to these the abbé also enjoyed a pension of 5000 livres on the Mercure de France. By these means his income was now very large; but he employed it nobly; for he distributed the surplus, which was considerable, among indigent men of letters.

In 1771 M. de Choiseul was disgraced, being succeeded in his office by his enemy the duke d'Aiguillon, and exiled to his estate at Chanteloupe. On this occasion he was as usual forsaken by the courtiers who had basked in the sunshine of his favour. But he was not deserted by the grateful antiquary, who instantly repaired to Chanteloupe to pay his respects to the fallen minister; and when the king demanded the duke's resignation of the post of colonel-general of the Swiss guards, the abbé, with a spirit which does honour to his memory, insisted on sending in his own resignation of the secretaryship. The ex-minister, however, interfered, and prevailed upon him not to deliver it up without an indemnification, sanctioned by the great seal, and authorized by letters patent enregistered in the parliament.

Barthélemy was now in possession of more than L1200 sterling per annum, of which he distributed between L300 and L400 in the manner before related; and the remainder was not dissipated in pomp and ostentation, but employed in such a manner as to enable him to enjoy philosophic ease. He also educated and established in life three nephews, one of whom was successively an ambassador and a director; at the same time supporting the rest of his family in Provence, and collecting a noble library, which he disposed of some years before his death. But after having thus possessed an ample income during more than twenty years, the abbé Barthélemy found himself, towards the close of his existence, reduced to live on a pittance barely adequate to furnish the necessaries of life, in consequence of the suppression of places and appointments occasioned by the revolution. He was never heard to complain, however, nor, indeed, did he seem to perceive the change; and while age and infirmities permitted him to walk from one end of Paris to the other, in order to pay his respects to Madame de Choiseul, his happiness suffered no apparent diminution.

In 1788 appeared his celebrated work, entitled *Voyage du jeune Anacharsis en Grèce, dans le milieu du quatrième siècle avant l'ère Chrétienne*. He had begun it in 1757, and, during an uninterrupted succession of thirty years, occupied his leisure hours in bringing it to maturity. His hero, a young Scythian, descended from the famous philosopher Anacharsis, whose name he bears, is supposed to repair to Greece for instruction in his early youth, and after making the tour of her republics, colonies, and islands, to return to his native country and write this book in his old age, after the Macedonian hero had overturned the Persian empire. In the manner of modern travellers, he gives an account of the customs, government, and antiquities, of the country he is supposed to have visited; a copious introduction supplies whatever may be wanting in respect to historical details; whilst various dissertations on the music of the Greeks, on the literature of the Athenians, and on the economy, pursuits, ruling passions, manners, and customs, of the surrounding states, supply ample information on the subjects of which they treat. The author, indeed, is not profound; and the young Scythian seldom penetrates much below the surface. But his remarks are commonly judicious, and to respectable erudition he unites singular skill in the distribution of his materials, and a happy talent for preserving his subject in the most agreeable and attractive form. The assumed character is so admirably sustained throughout, that we can scarcely persuade ourselves we are not perusing a book of real travels, and communing with an actual personage, who has recorded his observations and experience for the instruction and improvement of his countrymen.

In 1789 Barthélemy became a candidate for a chair in the French Academy; and the reputation he had obtained by his labours was such, that this learned body became anxious to enrol him among its members, which was accordingly done by acclamation. The speech delivered by the abbé on his inauguration has been equally celebrated for its simplicity and modesty.

In 1790 M. de St Priest, minister of the department of Paris, made him an offer of the situation of librarian to the king, then vacant by the resignation of M. le Noir. But this very flattering proposal was not accepted; for the abbé imagined that it might interfere with his literary occupations, and therefore respectfully declined the intended favour.

But while Barthélemy was thus refusing one of the most honourable offices which a man of letters could at that time aspire to, he did not neglect the department which had so long been confided to his charge. His ardour respecting every thing that concerned the cabinet of medals remained unabated through life; and he now found means to have his nephew, Barthélemy Courcy, associated with him in his labours. This grand collection had received a considerable increase, and had been embellished with a number of fine specimens since it was first confided to his care. To enrich it still more, he carried on an extensive correspondence, not only with the various provinces of France, but also with every part of Europe.

In the mean time the health of the learned medalist declined daily, and in 1792 his strength had so much failed him that, towards the close of the year, he became subject to fainting fits, which deprived him of the exercise of his faculties for several hours together. Being naturally calm and courageous, he did not appear to be in the least affected by these accidents; his friends, however, considered them as symptoms of approaching dissolution. He was now seventy-eight years of age, sixty of which had been spent in literary toils; and it might therefore have been expected that, even at that agitated period, the venerable veteran would have been suffered to die in peace. But it was not so. On the 30th of August 1793 this feeble old man was denounced as an aristocrat, and his nephew and several other young men employed about the library were included in the charge. The accusation proceeded from a person of the name of Duby, a clerk in the library, and it was conveyed in a letter written by him to a person of the name of Chrétien, a pastry-cook (who happened to be a member of the section before which it was first read), and then transmitted to the municipality. It was of no consequence that Duby did not know Chrétien, nor Chrétien Duby, and that Barthélemy was not acquaint- ed with either. A warrant was immediately issued against the supposed culprits, and the fact was signified, by the officers of justice, to the abbé, while at Madame de Choiseul's, on the morning of the 2d of September. On receiving the intimation, he instantly rose, without discovering any symptoms of perturbation, and taking his leave of that lady, was conducted to the Magdelonettes, where he found his nephew Courcy. Such, however, was the respect paid to his virtue and his talents, even within the walls of a prison, that, on entering the gate, he was received with every expression of regard by the inhabitants of this dreary mansion; and even the jailer, whose name was Vanbertrand, paid him the most respectful attention. He was accordingly lodged in a little apartment along with his relation; and in the course of that evening he received a visit from Madame de Choiseul, who had taken care to notify the event to the government. No sooner was the Committee of Public Safety informed that the Abbé Barthélemy had been included in the order, which was meant to extend only to some of the subalterns employed in the library, than orders were instantly issued for his release; and it is said that the clerks in the public offices displayed the utmost zeal in forwarding the necessary papers for his liberation; in consequence of which he was awaked from his sleep at eleven o'clock at night, and conducted to the house of his fair friend. Nor did the attention of the government stop here. In a few weeks afterwards, the office of national librarian having become vacant by the death of Carra and the resignation of Chamfort, who had held it jointly, it was offered to the abbé, with the most flattering marks of respect. But his advanced age and increasing infirmities did not admit of his accepting the offer.

In 1794 his approaching dissolution was apparent to every one but himself, for his fainting fits became longer and more frequent; but as he did not retain any remembrance of them, he occupied his time as usual, and continued to devote all his hours to friendship and literature. He had now reached the eightieth year of a life which had been entirely spent in laborious and incessant application to study, and might even have attained a greater age. But the rigour of the winter of 1795, against which he had adopted no precautions, is supposed to have hastened the catastrophe, which, however, did not occur until the ensuing spring.

On the 25th of April he dined with Madame de Choiseul. In the course of the night he became so weak that he was unable to ring his bell; and in the morning, when his servant entered, he was found with his feet in the bed and his head on the floor, entirely deprived of sensation. After being replaced, his recollection returned; but he became gradually worse, and at length died without a struggle on the 30th April 1795. He retained full possession of his faculties until the very last moment. At one o'clock he read Horace as if nothing extraordinary had occurred; but his hands turning cold in consequence of the approach of death, he became unable to support the book, and it fell to the ground. Soon after his head was seen to incline on one side; he appeared to sleep, and it was believed by his nephew and his attendants that he had fallen into a slumber; but it was soon discovered that his respiration had ceased, and that this learned man was no more. Thus died John James Barthélemy, one of the greatest ornaments of his age, a man whose life presented an example, and an author whose works form a model for literary men. In his person Barthélemy was above the middle size; and, if we are to credit his admirers, his countenance displayed an air of antiquity wonderfully corresponding with his studies. His bust, sculptured by the chisel of Houdon, is allowed to be a masterpiece of art; and that able artist has contrived to infuse into the physiognomy a mixture of the mildness, simplicity, good-nature, and elevation of soul, so visible in the original.