for a long time successful, but was finally put to death by his own subjects, who had revolted against him. His name was a synonym for cruelty, and it was related that he burned his prisoners alive in a brazen bull. There may have been some truth in the story, for we find it already mentioned by Pindar. The letters attributed to him are one hundred and forty-eight in number, and are written in Neo-Attic Greek such as begins to appear about the time of Augustus. The time of their composition is unknown, but cannot be earlier than the first century A. D., nor later than the fifth. The contents are not of great value; the letters are merely rhetorical exercises of a rather clever sort, the work of some sophist or rhetorician. Strange to say, Bentley, the student, judged them more accurately than Sir William Temple, the statesman and man of the world. Bentley says, most justly:

So diamonds owe a luster to their foil,
And to a Bentley 'tis we owe a Boyle.

Moreover, the letters contain the most glaring anachronisms. They mention towns not founded for centuries after Phalaris is supposed to have reigned. Books are quoted which had not been written in his day. The very language of the epistles is not Doric, as it should be, but is false Attic of a kind that did not exist until Phalaris had been dead over five hundred years. Phalaris complains that the people of Catana had robbed him of seven talents. The sophist clearly had in mind the Attic talent (worth about one thousand dollars), but the Sicilian talent was so small that the loss would have been less than three dollars. Again, the letters are not mentioned by any writer before the fifth century of our era.

These and many other proofs of the spuriousness of the composition Bentley duly pointed out. But he was not content to do this merely. As each topic arises he, with his usual exuberance of learning, makes of it what is practically a concise and epoch-making monograph. In this way he treated the age of Pythagoras, the beginnings of Greek tragedy, anapestic verse, the coinage of Sicily, etc. Considering that he lacked most of the elaborate apparatus which is now

at the command of scholars, the accuracy and thoroughness of his work are simply marvelous. No such scholarly work had ever been seen in England up to that time. The Dissertation on the Epistles of Phalaris really marks an epoch in the history of learning. It ushers in the critical era of classical scholarship. The style in which the work is written is often rough, inelegant, and colloquial, but possesses a directness and vigor which are simply tremendous. Take a few examples. The work of Boyle is thus described: "Here are your workmen to mend an author; as bungling tinkers do old kettles; there was but one hole in the text before they meddled with it; but they leave it with two." Of Phalaris: “He gives us some shining metaphors, and a polished period or two; but for the matter of it, it is some common and obvious thought dressed and curled in the beauish way."

The strongest feature of Boyle's book was the wit and sarcasm in which it abounded. But even in this field Bentley showed himself fully a match for his rival. To be sure, his wit is rather of the blunt English variety which knocks one down with a club and stamps on him afterward, while Boyle's is more like a thrust from a keen and polished rapier. there is a vigorous humor about some of Bentley's retorts that is excellent in its kind. For example, Boyle had complained that Bentley had been uncivil. Says Bentley:

But

By the help of a Greek proverb, I call him a downright ass. After I had censured a passage of Mr. Boyle's translation that had no affinity with the original, "This puts me in mind," said I, "of the old Greek proverb, that Leucon carries one thing, and his ass quite another," where the ass is manifestly spoken of the sophist, whom I had before represented as an ass under a lion's skin. And if Mr. B. has such a dearness for his Phalaris that he'll change places with him there, how can I help it? I can only protest that I put him into Leucon's place; and if he will needs compliment himself out of it, I must leave the two friends to the pleasure of their mutual civilities.

It has often been said that the effect of Bentley's reply was immediate and crushing-that when the Jove of critics had hurled his irresistible bolt his adversaries were left writhing in the dust. But it was hardly to be expected that such

would be the case. Truth makes its way but slowly, while error has seven-league boots. Moreover, Boyle had arrayed on his side all the wit and fashion of the day. Hence, although the unanswerableness of Bentley's rejoinder was immediately perceived by those competent to judge, it was long before his victory was fully recognized by the world at large. Swift's Battle of the Books was published five years after Bentley's Dissertation, yet in that work Swift ridicules Bentley and Wotton, and describes Boyle's supposed triumph over them. It was at least fifty years before the real state of the case was fully acknowledged. It is pleasant to add that both Boyle and Atterbury were in later years on friendly terms with the great critic.

With 1699 begins the second critical period in Bentley's life. In that year the commissioners appointed by King William to have charge of the royal preferments in the Church and the universities nominated Bentley to the vacant mastership of Trinity College, Cambridge. This was a very important post. Trinity was one of the foremost colleges in the university, and had counted among its members men like Newton and Isaac Barrow. The university life of those days was far more narrow and monastic than at present, and the students had much less intercourse with the outside world. The authority of the master was very great, and his salary and perquisites were very considerable. Bentley entered upon his office February 1, 1700, at the age of thirtyeight. He had just married Miss Joanna Bernard, daughter of an English knight of Huntingdonshire. She was a very estimable woman, and proved a true and loving helpmate to her husband. All seemed propitious for Bentley's future career. But the future was destined to be one of storm, not of calm. The fellows of Trinity were a body of easy-going, good-natured men, who enjoyed the pleasant things of life and dwelt in peaceful and harmless idleness. They had little scholarly ambition, and seem to have been inclined to convivial habits. So they lived on from year to year in their little circle, never dreaming how rudely they were to be awak

ened from their slumber.

But Bentley had no mind to leave the college in this state. He had a lofty ideal before him of what a great institution of learning should be, and purposed to bring Trinity up to that ideal at whatever cost. Unfortunately, however, he took the wrong method to accomplish this end. He was naturally strong-willed and arbitrary, and was resolute to be sole ruler of the school. So he worried and fretted them by petty exactions and restrictions, by harsh language, and, worst of all, by cutting down their incomes and appropriating the money to the uses of the college. He called eminent scholars to posts in the institution, rebuilt and refitted the chapel, laid out and beautified portions of the grounds, and in short furthered the interests of scholarship and science to the best of his ability. But in the meantime the fellows were becoming restive under his harsh treatment. It was nearly eight years before they dared to make head against him; but in 1709 things came to such a pass that a rupture was inevitable. Bentley had brought forward a scheme for redistributing the income of the college, by which the income of the fellows would be lessened, while his own was somewhat increased. The fellows, under the leadership of one of their number named Miller, an able lawyer, made head against the plan. There was a violent scene between Bentley and the senior fellows, at the end of which the master strode from the room exclaiming, "Henceforward, farewell peace to Trinity College." The words were prophetic; peace abandoned those walls for thirty years.

To go through all the mazes of that long and stubborn conflict would be wearisome and unprofitable; but, in short, after many evasions and delays Bentley was finally brought for trial before the Bishop of Ely, the visitor of the university. Bishop Moore was kindly disposed to Bentley, but the accusers had a strong case. There can be no doubt that Bentley had exceeded his powers. One day the bishop from his place as judge spoke in censure of Bentley's conduct. This was too much for even Bentley's iron will. He fell in a faint. The trial lasted six weeks. But just as a judgment was about to

be pronounced Bishop Moore died. It was a narrow escape for Bentley. A sentence removing him from the mastership was found among the bishop's papers. The next day came the death of Queen Anne, and amid the political turmoil which ensued the troubles at Trinity College were lost sight of for a time. The new Bishop of Ely was reluctant to interfere unless he could act as general visitor of the college, with power to do justice on all alike. Bentley's enemies then brought a petition before the privy council to ascertain who was the lawful general visitor. This petition was presented by Sergeant Miller. Bentley now induced Miller for a consideration in money to withdraw the petition. From this time for a number of years no direct effort to eject Bentley from his mastership was made; but he fought a number of suits against individuals, and won most of them. In 1717, in spite of strong opposition, Bentley was appointed to the regius professorship of divinity; but in 1718 he was deprived of all his degrees by the senate of the university. When the sentence of deprivation was reported to him he said, "I have weathered many a worse storm than this."

This deprivation was clearly illegal and unjust, and in 1724 it was reversed by the court of King's Bench, and his degrees were restored to him. Thus after fifteen years' warfare he still retained his position, while his power and income had actually increased. But the end was not yet. The ablest of his enemies, a Dr. Colbatch, revived the struggle. After long litigation the House of Lords was finally appealed to, and empowered the Bishop of Ely to try Bentley on the charges preferred against him. In 1733 the trial began, and on April 27, 1734, the bishop gave judgment, pronouncing Bentley guilty of dilapidating the college goods and violating its statutes; and he was condemned to be deprived of the mastership. But the indomitable man was not yet beaten. It so happened that the statutes provided that a sentence of deprivation of the mastership should be carried out through the agency of the vice master. The person who was then vice master, being unwilling to assume the responsibility, re