DAUGHTER of Sir William Askew, of Kelsay, in Lincolnshire, England, was born in 1529. She received a liberal and learned education, and early manifested a predilection for theological studies. Her eldest sister, who was engaged to Mr. Kyme of Lincolnshire, died before the nuptials were completed. Sir William Askew, unwilling to lose a connexion which promised pecuniary advantages, compelled his second daughter, Anne, notwithstanding her remonstrances and resistance, to fulfil the engagement entered into by her sister. But, however reluctantly she gave her hand to Mr. Kyme, to whom she bore two children, she rigidly fulfilled the duties of a wife and mother.

Though educated in the Roman Catholic religion, Anne became interested in the Reformation, which was causing great excitement in the minds of all persons of thought and education at that time; and devoted herself to the examination of the Bible and other works from which both parties affected to derive their faith. She was at length convinced of the truth of the doctrine of the reformers, and declared herself a convert to their principles. Her presumption in daring to exercise her own judgment so incensed her husband, that, at the suggestion of the priest, he drove her with ignominy from his house. Anne, conceiving herself released by this treatment from the obligations that had been imposed on her, determined to sue for a separation, and for this purpose she went to London.

Here she met with a favourable reception at court, and was particularly distinguished by the queen, Catharine Parr, who favoured in secret the doctrines of the reformation. But her husband and the priest accused her to Henry VIII., rendered more than usually irritable, vindictive, and tyrannical by declining health, of dogmatising on the subject of the real presence, a doctrine of which he was particularly tenacious. The sex and youth of the heretic aggravated the bitterness of her adversaries, who could not forgive a woman the presumption of opposing argument and reason to their dogmas.

Anne was seized, in March, 1545, and taken into custody. She was repeatedly examined respecting her faith, transubstantiation, masses for departed souls, &c. &c. Her answers to the questions proposed to her were more clear and sensible than satisfactory to her inquisitors. The substance and particulars of this examination were written by herself and published after her death.

On the twenty-third of March, a relation succeeded, after several ineffectual attempts, in bailing her. But she was soon apprehended again, and summoned before the king's council at Greenwich. She replied to their inquiries with firmness,

and without prevarication. She was remanded to Newgate, and not allowed to receive visits from any one, even from Dr. Latimer. She wrote herself to the king and chancellor, explaining her opinions; but her letter served only to aggravate her crime. She was then taken to the Tower, and interrogated respecting her patrons at court, but she heroically refused to betray them. Her magnanimity served but to incense her persecutors, who endeavoured to extort a confession from her by the rack; but she sustained the torture with fortitude and resignation. The chancellor, Wriothesely, commanded the lieutenant of the Tower to strain the instrument of his vengeance; on receiving a refusal, he threw off his gown, and exercised himself the office of executioner.

When

Anne was released from the rack, every limb was dislocated and she fainted with anguish. After she recovered, she remained sitting on the ground for two hours, calmly reasoning with her tormentors. She was carried back to her confinement, and pardon and life were offered to her if she would recant; but she refused, and was condemned to the stake.

A report having been circulated, that the prisoner had yielded, Anne wrote a letter to John | Lascelles, her former tutor, and to the public, justifying herself of the charge. She also drew up a confession of her faith, and an attestation of her innocence, which she concluded by a prayer for fortitude and perseverance. A gentleman who saw her the day previous to her execution, observes, that amidst all her pains and weakness, (being unable to rise or stand without assistance) her expression of mingled enthusiasm and resignation showed a sweetness and serenity inexpressibly affecting.

At the stake, letters were brought to her from the chancellor, exhorting her to recant, and promising her pardon. Averting her eyes from the paper, she replied, that "She came not thither to deny her Lord and Master." The same proposition was made to her four fellow-sufferers, but without success. While Shaxton, an apostate from his principles, harangued the prisoners, she listened attentively, nicely distinguishing, even at that terrible moment, between what she thought true and what erroneous. She was burnt at Smithfield, July 16th, 1546, in the twenty-fifth year of her age.

ASTELL, MARY,

AN ornament of her sex and country, was the daughter of Mr. Astell, a merchant at Newcastleupon-Tyne, where she was born, about 1668. She was well educated, and amongst other accomplishments was mistress of the French, and had some knowledge of the Latin tongue. Her uncle, a clergyman, observing her uncommon genius, took her under his tuition, and taught her mathematics, logic, and philosophy. She left the place of her nativity when she was about twenty years of age, and spent the remaining part of her life at London and Chelsea. Here she pursued her studies with assiduity, made great proficiency in the above sciences, and acquired a more complete knowledge

of the classic authors. Among these, Seneca, Epictetus, Hierocles, Antoninus, Tully, Plato, and Xenophon, were her favourites.

Her life was spent in writing for the advancement of learning, religion, and virtue; and in the practice of those devotional duties which she so zealously and pathetically recommended to others, and in which, perhaps, no one was ever more sincere and devout. Her sentiments of piety, charity, humility, friendship, and other Christian graces, were very refined and sublime; and she possessed them in such a distinguished degree, as would have done her honour even in primitive times. But religion sat very gracefully upon her, unattended with any forbidding airs of sourness and bigotry. Her mind was generally calm and serene; and her conversation was not only interesting, but highly entertaining. She would say, "The good Christian alone has reason, and he always ought to be cheerful;" and, "That dejected looks and melancholy airs were very unseemly in a Christian." But these subjects she has treated at large in her excellent writings. Some very great men bear testimony to the merit of her works; such as Atterbury, Hickes, Walker, Norris, Dodwell, and Evelyn.

She was remarkably abstemious, and seemed to enjoy an uninterrupted state of health, till a few years before her death; when, having a severe operation performed on her, for a cancer in the breast, it so much impaired her constitution, that she did not survive it. When she was confined to her bed by a gradual decay, and the time of her dissolution drew nearer, she ordered her shroud and coffin to be made, and brought to her bed-side, and there to remain in her view, as a constant memento of her approaching fate, and to keep her mind fixed on proper contemplations. She died in 1731, in the sixty-third year of her age, and was buried at Chelsea.

Her writings are as follow: "Letters Concerning the Love of God," published 1695; An Essay in Defence of the Female Sex, in a Letter to a Lady, written by a Lady," 1696; "A Serious Proposal to the Ladies, for the Advancement of their true and greatest Interest," &c.; and a second part to the same, 1697; "An Impartial Enquiry into the Causes of Rebellion and Civil War in this kingdom, in an Examination of Dr. Kennet's Sermon," 1703-4; "Moderation Truly Stated; ; or, a Review of a late Pamphlet intituled Moderation a Virtue, or the Occasional Conformist Justified from the Imputation of Hypocrisy," 1704. The prefatory discourse is addressed to Dr. Davenant, author of the pamphlet, and of essays on peace and war, &c. "A Fair Way with the Dissenters and their Patrons, not writ by Mr. Lindsay, or any other furious Jacobite, whether a Clergyman or Layman; but by a very Moderate Person, and a Dutiful Subject to the Queen," 1704. While this treatise was in press, Dr. Davenant published a new edition of his " Moderation still a Virtue;" to which she immediately returned an answer, in a postscript in this book. Her next work was "Reflections upon Marriage," to which is added a preface in answer to some objections,

1705. She next published "The Christian Religion as Professed by a Daughter of the Church of England," &c., 1705. This pamphlet was attributed to Bishop Atterbury. Her next work was "Six Familiar Essays on Marriage, Crosses in Love and Friendship, written by a Lady," 1706. Bartlemy Fair; or, an Enquiry after it," was her last, published in 1709, and occasioned by Colonel Hunter's celebrated Letter on Enthusiasm. It was republished in 1722, without the words Bartlemy Fair."

66

ASTORGAS, MARCHIONESS OF, A LADY who lived in the latter part of the seventeenth century, in Spain, during the reign of Charles II., killed with her own hands a beautiful woman, the mistress of her husband, and having prepared the heart of her victim, placed it at dinner before her husband. When he had eaten it, she rolled the head of the woman to him on the table. She then took refuge in a convent, where she became insane through rage and jealousy.

AUBESPINE, MAGDALEN DE L',

A FRENCH lady, celebrated for her wit and beauty; was the wife of Nicholas de Neuville, seignieur de Villeroi. She composed several works in verse and prose, and died on her own demesne, in 1596. Ronsard held her in high estimation. She is also complimented by Francis Grudé, by whom we are informed, that she translated, in verse, the epistles of Ovid.

AUNOY, MARIE CATHARINE JUNELLE DE BARNEVILLE, COMTESSE D',

WIDOW of the Count D'Aunoy, and niece of the celebrated Madame Destoges, died in 1705. She wrote with ease, though negligently, in the department of romance. People of a frivolous taste still read with pleasure her "Tales of the Fairies," four volumes in duodecimo, and especially her "Adventures of Hippolytus, Earl of Douglas," a story natural and interesting in the style, with abundance of the marvellous in the adventures. Her"Memoires Historiques de ce qui c'est passé de plus Remarquable en Europe depuis 1672 jus qu'en, 1679," are a medley of truth and falsehood. She wrote also "Memoirs of the Court of Spain,” where she had lived with her mother, a work which presents us with no favourable idea of the Spanish nation. Her "Memoirs of the Court of England" was rather better arranged; and a History of John de Bourbon, Prince de Karency," in three volumes duodecimo, which is one of those historical romances that are the offspring of slender abilities joined to a warm imagination. Her husband, the Count D'Aunoy, being accused of high treason, by three Normans, very narrowly escaped with his head. One of his accusers, struck with remorse of conscience, declared the whole charge to be groundless. The countess left four daugh

ters.

AVOGADRO, LUCIA,

AN Italian poetess, displayed early poetical talents, and won the praise even of Tasso. Only a

seldom changed her opinions either on books or

men.

· Her reading was very extensive in history and belles lettres; and her memory extremely tenacious.

Her favourite moral writers were Johnson, in prose, and Cowper, in verse. It is difficult to say at what age she was not intimately acquainted with the merits and defects of the best essays and novels in the English language. Richardson's power of creating, and preserving the consistency of his characters, as particularly exemplified in ⚫ Sir Charles Grandison,' gratified the natural discrimination of her mind, whilst her taste secured her from the errors of his prolix style and tedious narrative. She did not rank any work of Fielding quite so high. Without the slightest affectation, she recoiled from everything gross. Neither nature, wit, nor humour, could make her amends for so very low a scale of morals.

"Her powers of inventing characters seems to have been intuitive, and almost unlimited. She drew from nature; but, whatever may have been surmised to the contrary, never from individuals. The style of her familiar correspondence was in all respects the same as that of her novels. Everything came finished from her pen; for, on all subjects, she had ideas as clear as her expressions were well chosen. It is not hazarding too much to say, that she never despatched a note or letter unworthy of publication.

"One trait only remains to be touched on. It makes all others unimportant. She was thoroughly religious and devout; fearful of giving offence to God, and incapable of feeling it towards any fellow-creature.

"She retained her faculties, her memory, her fancy, her temper, and her affections, warm, clear, and unimpaired, to the last. Neither her love of God, nor of her fellow-creatures, flagged for a moment. She made a point of receiving the sacrament before excessive bodily weakness might have rendered her perception unequal to her wishes. She wrote whilst she could hold a pen, and with a pencil when a pen was become too laborious. Her last voluntary speech conveyed thanks to her medical attendant; and to the final question asked of her, purporting to know her wants, she replied, 'I want nothing but death.""

In our selection from the writings of this estimable lady, we quote from "Northanger Abbey ;" it is simple in plot, and the heroine may be found in every-day life. She is nevertheless an exquisite creation of fancy, but her naturalness makes her loveliest charm; and first, we have her manner of training at home, or rather how she was permitted to grow up, like a wild flower, in her own sweet way:

THE HEROINE'S CHILDHOOD.

"No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be a heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her. Her father was a clergyman, without being neglected, or poor, and a very respectable man, though his name was

Richard-and he had never been handsome. He had a considerable independence, besides two good livings — and he was not in the least addicted to locking up his daughters. Her mother was a woman of useful plain sense, with a good temper, and, what is more remarkable, with a good constitution. She had three sons before Catherine was born; and instead of dying in bringing the latter into the world, as any body might expect, she still lived on-lived to have six children more-1 to see them growing up around her, and to enjoy excellent health herself. A family of ten children will be always called a fine family, where there are heads and arms and legs enough for the number; but the Morlands had little other right to the word, for they were in general very plain, and Catherine, for many years of her life, as plain as any. She had a thin awkward figure, a sallow skin, without colour, dark lank hair, and strong features;-so much for her person;—and not less unpropitious for heroism seemed her mind. She was fond of all boys' plays, and greatly preferred cricket, not merely to dolls, but to the more heroic enjoyments of infancy, nursing a dormouse, feeding a canary-bird, or watering a rose-bush. Indeed she had no taste for a garden; and if she gathered flowers at all, it was chiefly for the pleasure of mischief—at least, so it was conjectured from her always preferring those which she was forbidden to take. Such were her propensitiesher abilities were quite as extraordinary. She never could learn or understand anything before she was taught; and sometimes not even then, for she was often inattentive, and occasionally stupid. Her mother was three months in teaching her only to repeat the Beggar's Petition;' and, after all, her next sister, Sally, could say it better than she did. Not that Catherine was always stupid-by no means; she learned the fable of The Hare and many Friends,' as quickly as any girl in England. Her mother wished her to learn music; and Catherine was sure she should like it, for she was very fond of tinkling the keys of the old forlorn spinnet; so, at eight years old, she began. She learned a year, and could not bear it ; —and Mrs. Morland, who did not insist on her daughters being accomplished in spite of incapacity or distaste, allowed her to leave off. The day which dismissed the music-master was one of the happiest of Catherine's life. Her taste for drawing was not superior; though whenever she could obtain the outside of a letter from her mother, or seize upon any other odd piece of paper, she did what she could in that way, by drawing houses and trees, hens and chickens, all very much like one another Writing and accounts she was taught by her father; French by her mother: her proficiency in either was not remarkable, and she shirked her lessons in both whenever she could. What a strange, unaccountable character! for with all these symptoms of profligacy at ten years old, she had neither a bad disposition nor a bad temper; was seldom stubborn, scarcely ever quarrelsome, and very kind to the little ones, with few interruptions of tyranny; she was moreover noisy and wild, hated confinement and cleanliness, and loved nothing so well in

Such was Catherine Morland at ten. At fifteen, appearances were mending; she began to curl her hair and long for balls; her complexion improved, her features were softened by plumpness and colour, her eyes gained more animation, and her figure more consequence. Her love of dirt gave way to an inclination for finery, and she grew clean as she grew smart; she had now the pleasure of sometimes hearing her father and mother remark on her personal improvement. 'Catherine grows quite a good-looking girl-she is almost pretty to-day,' were words which caught her ears now and then; and how welcome were the sounds! To look almost pretty, is an acquisition of higher delight to a girl who has been looking plain the first fifteen years of her life, than a beauty from her cradle can ever receive.

Mrs. Morland was a very good woman, and wished to see her children everything they ought to be; but her time was so much occupied in lying-in and teaching the little ones, that her elder daughters were inevitably left to shift for themselves; and it was not very wonderful that Catherine, who had by nature nothing heroic about her, should prefer cricket, base-ball, riding on horseback, and running about the country at the age of fourteen, to books-or at least books of information-for, provided that nothing like useful knowledge could be gained from them, provided they were all story and no reflection, she had never any objection to books at all, but from fifteen to seventeen she was in train for a heroine; she read all such works as heroines must read to supply their memories with those quotations which are so serviceable and so soothing in the vicissitudes of their eventful lives.

From Pope, she learnt to censure those who 'bear about the mockery of wo.'

The poor beetle, which we tread upon,

In corporal sufferance, feels a pang as great
As when a giant dies.'

And that a young woman in love always looks

like Patience on a monument Smiling at Grief.'

So far, her improvement was sufficient-and in many other points, she came on exceedingly well; for though she could not write sonnets, she brought herself to read them; and though there seemed no chance of her throwing a whole party into raptures by a prelude on the pianoforte of her own composition, she could listen to other

greatest deficiency was in the pencil-she had no notion of drawing-not enough even to attempt a sketch of her lover's profile, that she might be detected in the design. There she fell miserably short of the true heroic height. At present, she did not know her own poverty, for she had no lover to pourtray. She had reached the age of seventeen without having seen one amiable youth who could call forth her sensibility; without having inspired one real passion, and without having exerted even any admiration but what was very moderate and very transient. This was strange indeed! But strange things may generally be accounted for if their cause be fairly searched out. There was not one lord in the neighbourhood; no, not even a baronet. There was not one family among their acquaintance who had reared and supported a boy accidentally found at their door — not one young man whose origin was unknown. Her father had no ward, and the 'squire of the parish no children.

But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way."

Mr. Allen, who owned the chief of the property about Fullerton, the village in Wiltshire where the Morlands lived, was ordered to Bath for the benefit of a gouty constitution; and his lady, a good-humoured woman, fond of Miss Morland, and probably aware that if adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad, invited her to go with them. Mr. and Mrs. Morland were all compliance, and Catherine all happiness.

THE HEROINE AT A BALL.

"So they went to Bath, and Catherine made her first appearance in the ball-room, anticipating a most delightful evening; for she had come to be happy. But the party was late, and poor Miss Morland never had the offer of a partner. But there was good fortune in store for her; and this is the history of the second ball.

They made their appearance in the lower rooms; and here fortune was more favourable to our heroine. The master of the ceremonies introduced to her a very gentleman-like young man as a partner. His name was Tilney. He seemed to be about four or five-and-twenty, was rather tall, had a pleasing countenance, a very intelligent and lively eye, and, if not quite handsome, was very near it. His address was good, and Catherine felt herself in high luck. There was little leisure for speaking while they danced; but when they were seated at tea, she found him as agreeable as she had already given him credit for being. He talked with fluency and spirit—and there was an archness and pleasantry in his manner which interested, though it was hardly understood by her. After chatting some time on such matters as naturally arose from the objects around them, he suddenly addressed her with 'I have hitherto been very remiss, madam, in the proper attentions of a partner here; I have not yet asked you how long you