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Full text of "Biographia Hibernica : a biographical dictionary of the worthies of Ireland, from the earliest period to the present time"

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THS 


WORTHIES  OF  IRELAND. 


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1; 


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JO  Mil  ]p']iii  ii  lUP'Oi"  f  u  jpaii\:K', 


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Mi^^vav^i^  f^fftvnit$^i 


BIOGRAPHICAL  DICTIONARY 


TVORTHIES  OF  IRELAND, 

FROM  TBB 

EARUE9T  PERIOD  TO  THE  PRESENT  TIME. 


WAITTBN  AND  COMPILBD 


y 


By  RICHARD  RYAN. 

.♦ 


Minks  88  the  fisherman  strays, 
>ld  eye's  declining, 
»wers  of  other  days 
tth  him  shining: 
ften,  in  dreams  snblime, 
>f  the  days  that  are  over; 
hrough  the  Wfosea  of  time^ 
gloriea  they  cover^** 

Moore's  Irish  Mblodibs. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
VOL.   I. 


LONDON: 

PRINTED  FOR  SHERWOOD,  NEELY  &  JONES, 
PATERNOSTER  ROW ; 

M.  N.  MAHON  ;  R.  MILUKEN  ;  AND  HODGES  &  M' ARTHUR, 
DUBUN. 

1822. 


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PrimUd  bg  J.  BretUlU 
Rupert  MrttC  Umjfmarkeit  Und^n. 


\ 


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preface  Seiviciitor]^ 


TO 


THE    IRISH    NATION. 


Biography  is  of  all  narratives  the  most  valu- 
able. The  revolutions  of  empires  would  be  but  a 
fidry  tale  to  us,  if  they  were  not  capable  of  supplying 
additional  principles  for  our  knowledge  of  human 
nature.  Biography,  like  all  things  else,  becomes  more 
important  as  the  influence  of  its  subjects  has  been 
more  extensive;  for  the  future  fates  of  a  nation  are 
made  by  its  character,  and  its  character  is  made  by 
its  celebrated  men.  But  the  deepest  and  holiest  in- 
terest is  thrown  round  Biography,  when  it  is  ^pealed 
to  as  the  vindicator  of  an  unhappy  people ;  when  the 
fallen  are  forced  to  bring  in  the  dead  to  plead  their 
cause,  and  find  their  only  trophies  in  the  tomb. 

The  History  of  Ireland  is  the  most  calanutous 
moral  document  since  the  beginning  of  society.  A 
government  of  barbarism  was  less  succeeded  than 
interrupted  by  a  government  of  conquest ;  and  the  * 
evil  of  this  partial  subjugation  was  reinforced  by  the 
subordinate  mischiefs  of  a  divided  law,  a  divided  lan- 
guage, and  a  diviided  religion.  The  heroic  savage  of 
Ireland  lost  a  share  of  his  native  virtues,  and  filled 
up  their  place  by  the  arts  of  a  perverted  civilization. 
The  arms  and  laws  of  England  had  made  a  sudden 
burst  into  the  country,  as  irresistible  as  the  invasion 
of  the  lava  into  the  ocean ;  but  their  prepress  was  as 
suddenly  checked,  and  they  only  increased  the  tumult 


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vi  PREFACE. 

and  the  dangers  of  that  untaihed  element  into  which 
they  had  plunged.     Ireland  was  left  only  a  place  of 
desperate  rivalry  or  of  desolation,  a  field  of  battle,  or . 
a  grave. 

This  state  of  misery  continued  for  a  period  with- 
out example,— longer  than  the  desolation  of  Egypt, 
longer  than  the  decay  of  the  Roman  empire,  longer 
than  the  dark  ages,  longer  than  any  suffering  brought 
upon  a  people  by  misfortune  or  crime,  but  that  of 
God's  malediction  against  the  Jews ;  it  lasted  for  six 
hundred  years  !  Its  history  might  have  been  written, 
like  the  roll  in  the  Apocalypse^  within  and  without, 
with  "  lamentation,  and  mourning,  and  woe."  While 
the  knowledge  of  Right  was  advancing  over  the 
face  of  Europe,  like  the  sun,  from  the  east,  Ireland 
was  still  in  the  darkness,  without  the  quiet  of  the 
sepulchre.  Every  nation,  in  its  turn,  made  some 
noble  acquisition  in  freedom,  or  religion,  or  science, 
or  dominion.  Ireland  lay,  like  the  form  of  the  first 
man,  with  all  the  rapid  splendours  of  the  new  crea- 
tion rising  and  glowing  round  him  ;  but  she  lay  with- 
out the  "  breath  in  her  nostrils." 
*  The  cause  of  these  deplorable  calamities  was  not 
in  the  English  l^islature;  for  the  only  crime  of  that 
l^slature  was  in  the  slowness  and  unskilfulness  of 
their  cure.  The  original  government  of  Ireland  was, 
of  all  others,  the.  most  fatal  to  civilization;  it  was  the 
government  of  tribes,  the  devotedness  of  clanship 
without  its  compensating  and  patriarchal  affections, 
the  haughty  violence  of  the  feudal  system  without 
its  superb  munificence  and  generous  achievement. 
Ireland  was  torn  in  pieces  by  four  sovereignties;  the 
people  were  kept  in  chains  at  home,  that  they  might 
be  let  loose  on  their  neighbours  with  the  ferocity  of 
hungry  and  thwarted  strength.     Her  government 


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PREFACE. 


vu 


was  a  graduated  tyraiiny,  in  which  the  sovereign 
stood  at  the  highest  point  of  licentiousnesis ;  and  the 
people  were  sunk  to  the  bottom  of  the  scale,  in  chill 
and  deadly  depression.  But  no  man  who  knows  the 
history  of  Ireland,  can  compute  the  influence  of 
England  among  the  elements  of  her  depression.  She 
neglected,  but  she  scarcely  smote  her.  It  was  the 
physician  disgusted  by  the  waywardness  of  the 
patient,  leaving  disease  to  take  its  course,  and  not 
the  assassin  inflicting  a  fresh  wound — where  the  blow 
was  given,  it  was  almost  the  result  of  necessity. 
England  was  then  fighting  for  her  freedom;  the 
nations  of  the  earth  had  not  yet  been  awed  into  wis- 
dom by  the  noble  evidence  that  a  people  warring  as 
she  warred,  cannot  be  conquered.  She  was  engaged 
perpetually  on  her  frontier ;  she  had  no  time  to  think 
of  the  remote  territory  behind.  She  slept  upon'  a 
rampart,  frpm  which  she  never  cast  her  eyes,  but  to 
see  the  banner^  of  France  and  Spain  moving  against 
her;  or,  if  she  turned  round  to  look  upon  the  dis- 
sensions of  Ireland,  it  was  only  with  the  quick  and 
anxious  irritation  of  a  conqueror,  who,  in  the  moment 
of  deciding  the  battle,  sees  an  insurrection  of  the 
prisoners  in  his  rear. 

But  there  are  in  all  countries  examples  of  great 
individuals,  summoned  up  from  time  to  time,  as  if  to 
retrieve  the  standard  of  human  nature,  and  raise  all 
men's  eyes  from  the  ground  by  the  simple  sight  of 
their  glorious  and  original  altitude. 

The  finest  purpose  of  Biography  is  to  draw  back 
the  curtain  of  the  temple,  and  give  their  images  to 
our  wonder,  for  the  vindication  of  the  past,  and  the 
lesson  of  the  friture.  The  darkest  periods  of  Ireland 
have  been  rich  in  evidence  of  such  beings — me- 
teors ascending  in  her  dungeon  and  mine,  as  if  to 


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▼in  PREFACE. 

remind  the  obscure  dwellers  there  of  the  splendour 
abroad  and  above  them.  But  it  is  the  distinction  of 
Ireland  to  have  produced  more  of  those  eminent 
existences  than  almost  any  other  nation  in  its  day  of 
misery.  There  seems  to  have  been  a  springing  and 
recuperative  spirit  in  the  land  that  felt  the  slightest 
removal  of  pressure,  and  rose. — The  vegetation  of 
the  national  mind  was  always  blossoming  out  on  the 
edge  of  winter, — ^her  sunshine  was  always  urging  the 
skirts  of  the  storm.  But  it  is  of  the  nature  of  the 
mighty  intellect,  and  the  saintly  virtue,  to  pass 
upward  when  they  have  fulfilled  their  mission,  and 
roused  mankind  to  a  noble  emulation,  or  borne  testi* 
mony  against  its  abuse  of  the  munificence  of  heaven. 

It  is  the  task  of  Biography  to  let  such  be  not  for- 
gotten ;  and,  if  it  cannot  reveal  them  to  us  in  their 
early  grandeur,  at  least  to  lead  us  to  the  spots  hal* 
lowed  by  their  presence, — ^to  shew  us  the  memorials 
of  their  hands,  and  point  out  the  track  by  which  they 
ascended  to  immortality. 

The  work  to  which  we  now  solicit  the  public 
attention,  contains  the  lives  of  persons  who  have  thus 
illustrated  their  country.  Of  its  execution  we  will 
not  speak.  No  preface  can  supersede  the  judgment 
of  the  reader ;  but  it  has  been  compiled  with  indus- 
try, and  corrected  with ,  care :  the  old  has  been 
remodelled,  and  the  new  has  been  received  upon 
authority.  We  now  recommend  it  to  a  people 
whose  passions  and  prejudices  have  been   always 

PATRIOTISM 

TO  THE  IRISH  NATION. 


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BIOGRAPHICAL  DICTIONARY 


or  THB 


TVORTHIES  OF  IRELAND- 


JOHN  ABERNETHY, 

An  emiaeDt  presbjteriaD  diyioey  was  born  on  the  19th 
of  October,  1680,  at  Coleraine,  in  the  county  of  London- 
derry«  His  father  was  a  dissenting  minister  in  that  town, 
and  his  mother  of  the  family  of  the  Walkinshaws,  of 
Renfrewshire  in  Scotland.  After  remaining  under  the 
care  of  his  parents  for  nine  years,  he  was  separated  from 
tbeoi  by  a  chain  of  circumstances,  which,  in  the  end,  proved 
highly  favorable.  His  father  had  been  employed  by  the 
presbyterian  clergy  to  transact  some  public  affairs  in 
London,  at  a  time  when  his  mother,  to  avoid  the  tumult 
of  the  insurrections  in  Ireland,  withdrew  to  Derry.  Their 
fton  was  at  that  period  with  a  relation,  who  in  the  general 
€Xinfusion  determined  to  remove  to  Scotland,  aod  having  no 
opportunity  of  conveying  the  child  to  his  mother,  carried 
bim  off  along  with  him.  Thus  he  providentially  escaped 
the  dangers  attending  the  siege  of  Derry,  in  which  Mrs. 
Ab^roethj  lost  all  her  other  children.   Having  spent  some 

TOL.   I.  B 


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2  ABERNETHY. 

years  at  a  graitninar  school,  at  the  early  age  of  thirteen 
■  he  was  removed  to  the  college  at  Glasgow,  where  he  re- 
mained till  he  had  taken  the  degree  of  master  of  arts. 
His  own  inclination  led  him  to  the  study  of  medicine,  bat, 
in  conformity  with  the  advice  of  his  friends,  he  declined 
the  profession  of  physic,  and  devoted  himself  sedulously 
to  the  study  of  divinity,  under  the  celebrated  professor 
Campbell,  at  Edinburgh  ;  and  so  great  was  his  success  in 
the  prosecution  of  his  studies,  that  he  was  licensed  to  preach 
by  the  presbytery  of  iRoute,  J^i^fore  he  had  arrived  at  the 
age  of  twenty-one.  In  1708,  after  having  been  several 
years  at  Dublin  with  a  view  to  farther  improvement,  he 
wa$  ord«ioed  at  Antrim,  where  hU  preaching  was  much 
admired,  and  where  his  general  conduct  and  superior 
attainments  were  beheld  with  respect  and  esteem.  His 
congregation  was  large,  and  he  applied  himself  to  the 
pastoral  work  with  great  diligence.  His  talents  likewise 
gave  him  a  considerable  ascendancy  in  the  synod,  so  that 
he  had  a  large  share  in  the  management  of  public  affairs. 
As  a  speaker  he  was  considered  as  their  chief  ornament, 
^nd  he  m^i^taiaed  lii^  character  ^qd  his  interest  in  their 
esteem  |o  the  last,  ootwithstandipg  a  change  in  bis  neli* 
gious  8en,timeot9  bad  excited  tlie  ppposition  pf  omny 
violeat  and  highlyrgifted  ajitagoni^ts. 

In  1716»  he  attempted  Itp  remove  the  pr/ejudices  of  the 
native  Irish,  ip  th/^  nisighbo^rhaod  of  Antriffi,  who  were 
of  the  popish  persua^ipQ^  and  induce  them  to  isiiibrace  the 
protestant  rejigipp.  H^s  labpurg  in  this  design  were 
attended  with  bi^t  modert^t^  success^  for  pptwitiistaoding 
several,  who  were  induced  to  ^^adop  popery,  continued 
firm  in  their  ^tUchment  to  protectant  principles,  yet  others, 
%q  his  great  di^coi^agepiept  ^nd  ipartificatipp,  reverted  to 
their  former  perspa^ioo.  ^n  the  following  year  he  received 
tvTQ  invitations,  one  fron^  Dublin,  apd  anpt^r  from  Bel- 
fast ;  and  the  sypod  (wbpse  aptihority  ^^t, th^  \m^  i^^W  very 
j^eat)  advised  his  ren^ov^l  to  {)ubliQ ;  bpt  ^Q  Hfopg  wa» 
jjiis  ^tJapboiep^  to  hi^  QPRgi;eg^^jftn  ftt  A»Win?  li^t  iui 


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ABEaNETHV-  9 

r««olved  to  continiie  there  at  the.  peril  of  iDcwrrtag  their 
displeasure.  The  interference  of  this  assembly  wa&dia* 
mctri^ly  opposite  to  those  sentiraeD  ts  of  religious  freedom 
which  Mr«  Aberaelhy  had  been  led  to  eutertaioy  both  by 
the  exercise  of  his  owa  vigorous  faculties,  and  by  an  atten- 
tion to  the  Bangorum  controversy  which  prevailed  in 
England  about  this  period.  Encouraged  by  the  freedom  of 
dispnssioo  which  it  had  occasioned,  a  considerable  numbei 
of  ministers  and  others  in  the  north  of  Ireland^  forn^ecl 
tiiemselves  into  a  society  for  improvement  in  useful  know- 
Mge;  their  professed  aim  was  lo  bring  things  to  the  test 
of  reason  and  scripture^  instead  of  paying  a  servile  regard 
to  any  humail  authority*  This  laudable  design  is  supposed 
W  have  been  suggested  by  Mr.  Abernethy,  and  as  the 
gentlemen  who  concurred  in  the  scheme  met  at  Belfast,  it 
was  called  ^The  Belfast  Society.'  In  the  progress  of  this 
body,  and  in  coosequeoce  of  the  debates  and  dissensions 
which  were  occasioned  by  it,  several  persons  withdrew 
from  the  society,  and  those  who  adhered  to  it  were  dis- 
tinguished by  the  appellation  of  non-subscribers.  Their 
avow^  principles  were  these,  '^  First,  that  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  hath  in  the  new  testament  determined  and  fixed  the 
terms  of  commuaion  in  hia  church ;  that  all  christians  who 
comply  with  these  have  a  right  to  communion,  and  tba^ 
no  man,  or  set  of  men,  have  power  to  add  any  other  ietms 
to  those  settled  in  the  Gospel.  Secondly,  that  it  is  not 
necessary  as  an  evidence  of  soundness  in  the  faith,  that 
candidates  for  the  ministry  should  subscribe  to  the'  Westr- 
min&ter  confession,'  or  any  uninspired  form  of  articles  or 
confession  of  faith,  as  the  terms  upon  which  they  shall  be 
admitted^  and  that  no  church  has  a  right  to  impose  such 
a  subscription  upon  them.  Thirdly,  that  to  call  upon  men 
to  make  declarations  concerning  their  faith,  upon  the  threat 
of  cutting  them  off  from  commuaion  if  they  should  refuse 
il,  and  this  merely  upon  suspicions  and  jealousies,  while  the 
persons  required  to  purge  themselves  by  such  declaration* 
cannot  be  fiurly  f onvi^ted  upon  evidence  of  any  error  or 


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4  ABERNETHY. 

heresy^  is  to  exercise  ao  -exorbitaDt  and  arbitrary  power, 
and  is  really  an  inquisition/' 

Mr.  Abernethy  was  justlv  considered  as  the  bead  of  the 
non-subscribersy  And  he  consequently  became  a  principal 
object  of  persecution.  In  an  early  stage  of  the  controversy 
he  published  a  sermon  from  the  14th  chapter  of  RomanS| 
the  latter  part  of  the  5th  verse;  **  Let  every  man  be  fully 
persuaded  in  his  own  mind ;"  in  which  he  explained  in  a 
masterly  manner  the  rights  of  private  judgment,  and  the 
foundations  of  christian  liberty.    He  afterwards  published 
a  small  tract,  entitled  ''Seasonable  Advice  to  the  contend* 
iDg  Parties  in  the  North/'  to  which  was  prefixed  a  preface 
composed  by  the  Reverend  Messrs.  Weld,  Boyse,  and 
Chappin,  of  Dublin.    The  design  of  this  publication  was 
to  prove  that  there  ought  to  be  no  breach  of  communion 
among  the  protestant  dissenters  on  account  of  their  differ- 
ence of  sentiment  concerning  subscriptii^n  to  the  West- 
minster confession.  The  controversy  on  the  negative  side, 
of  which  Abernethy  was  a  principal  leader,  was  brought 
into  the  general  synod,  and  terminated  in  a  rupture  in 
17^6,   the  synod  determining  that  the  non-sjubscribers 
should  no  longer  remain  of  their  body,  and  reviving  wiih 
additional  force  the  act  of  1705,  which  required  the  can- 
didates for  the  ministry  to  subscribe  to  the  Westminster 
confession.  From  that  time  the  excluded  members  formed, 
themselves  into  a  separate  presbytery,  and  encounterecT 
many  difficulties  and  hardships  arising  from  jealousies 
spread  among  their  people. 

Mr.  Abernethy  now  found  that  his  justly  acquired 
reputation,  which  he  had  uniformly  maintained  by  a  strict 
and  exemplary  life,  was  little  security  to  him  against  these 
evils.  Some  of  his  congregation  forsook  his  ministry,  and, 

under  the  influence  and  encouragement  of  the  synod, 
formed  themselves  into  a  distinct  society,  and  were  pro- 
vided by  them  with  a  minister.  Deserted  thus  by  the 
individuals  from  whom  he  expected  the  most  constant 
support,  he  received  an  invitation  from  the  congregation 


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ABERNETHY.  5 

of  Wood  street^  Dublin,  which  he  accepted,  an^  removed 
thither  in  1730.  At  Dublin  he  prosecuted  his  studies  with 
unremitting  activity,  and  deviated  from  a  practice  which 
he  had  adopted  in  the  north,  by  writing  his  sermons  at 
fall  length,  and  constantly  using  his  notes  in  the  pulpit. 
The  Irish  dissenters  being  at  this  time  desirous  of  emanci* 
pating  themselves  from,  the  incapacities  devolved  upon 
them  by  the  Test  Act,  Mr.  Abernethy,  in  1731,  wrote  a 
paper  to  forward  this  design,  with  a  view  of  exhibiting 
both  the  unreasonableness  and  injustice  of  all  those  laws, 
which  upon  account  of  mere  difference  in  religious  opinions, 
excluded  men  of  integrity  and  ability  from  serving  their 
country,  and  deprived  them  of  those  privileges  and  advan- 
tages, to  which  they  had  a  natural  and  just  title  as  free-" 
born  subjects.  He  insisted  strongly  that,  considering  the 
state  of  Ireland,  it  was  in  point  of  policy  a  great  error  to 
continue  restraints  which  weakened  the  protestant  interest, 
and  was  prejudicial  to  the  government.  In  1733,  the 
dissenters  of  Ireland  made  a  second  attempt  for  obtaining 
the  repeal  of  this  obnoxious  act,  and  Mr.  Abernethy  again 
had  recourse  to  the  press  to  favour  the  scheme ;  but  the 
affair  miscarried. 

He  continued  his  labours  in  Wood  street  for  about  ten 
years  with  a  large  share  of  reputation,  and  enjoyed  great 
satisfaction  in  the  society  and  esteem  of  his  friends  ;  and 
while  his  associates,  from  the  strength  of  his  constitution, 
the  cheerfulness  of  his  spirits,  and  the  uniform  temperance 
of  his  life,  were  in  hopes  that  his  usefulness  would  have 
beeo  prolonged,  a  sudden  attack  of  the  gout  in  the  head 
(to  which  disorder  he  had  ever  been  subject)  frustrated  aH 
their  hopes,  and  he  expired  universally  lamented  in  De« 
cember  1 740,  in  the  60th  year  of  his  age ;  dying  as  he  bad 
lived,  esteemed  by  all  mankind,  and  with  a  cheerful  acqui- 
escence to  the  will  of  an  all-wise  Creator. 

Mr.  Abernethy  was  twice  married  ;  first,  shortly  after 
bis  settlement  at  Antrim,  to  a  lady  of  exemplary  piety^ 
whom  he  lost  by  death  in  1712;  and,  secondly,  after  his 


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6  ALEXANDER. 

removal  f  DabliQ  to  Another  hidy,  with  whom  he  lived  ia 
fill  the  tenderness  of  conjugal  affection  til!  the  time  of  bis 
decease.  The  most  celebrated  of  his  writings  were  his 
two  volumes  of  Discourses  on  the  Divine  Attributes,  the 
first  of  which  only  was  published  during  hisHfe^time;  they 
were  much  admired  at  the  period  of  their  publication,  and 
were  recommended  by  the  late  excellent  Archbishop 
Herring,  and  are  still  held  in  the  highest  esteem.  Four 
volumes  of  his  posthumous  Sermons  have  also  been 
published,  the  two  first  in  1748,  and  the  others  in  1767; 
to  which  is  prefixed  the  life  of  the  author,  supposed  to  have 
been  witten  by  his  countryman,  Dr.  Duchal.  Another 
volume  was  likewise  published  in  London,  in  1751,  entitled 
"Scarce  and  valuable  Tracts  and  Sermons,*'  &c. 

He  also  left  behind  him  a  diary  of  his  life,  commeno 
ing  in  February  1712,  a  short  time  after  his  wife's  de- 
cease. It  consists  of  six  large  quarto  volumes  in  a  very 
small  hand,  and  very  closely  written.  His  biographers 
have  justly  termed  it  an  amazing  work,  in  which  the  tem- 
per of  his  soul  is  throughout  expressed  with  much  exacts 
ness.  The  whole  bearing  striking  characters  of  a  reverence 
and  awe  of  the  divine  presence  upon  his  mind,  of  a  sim- 
plicity and  sincerity  of  spirit,  and  of  the  most  careful  dis- 
cipline of  the  heart;  clearly  evincing  that  however  great 
his  worldly  reputation  was,  his  real  worth  was  far  superior 
to  the  esteem  in  which  he  was  held. 


JOHN  ALEXANDER, 

An  eminent  dissenting  minister,  highly  distinguished  by 
his  natural  abilities,  and  extensive  acquirements^  was  bom 
in  the  commencement  of  1736,  in  Ireland,  to  which  coun- 
try, his  father  who  had  been  a  dissenting  preacher,  and 
master  of  an  academy  at  Stratford  upon  Avon,  had  retired 
a  short  period  before  the  birth  of  his  son.  His  father  did 
not  long  survive  this  change  of  country,  and  his  mother 
with  her  family,  soon  after  his  decease,  returned  to  £ng« 


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\§ni,  mA  mithd  att  Bifinltfgbadft.  litf^  he  went  tBrough 
the  totbwoU  door&e  of  gt&aiinatieftl  rasilrtfctioir^  afid  Wd^ 
irfterwatdi  sedt  to  tb6  aeitd^My,  i^  Diely entry,  which  wa^ 
then  uttder  the  doperidtetiddnc^  6(  Di*.  €ft{eb  AdtWdi-th, 
trho  had  been  appomted  ttftbr'  eo  the  deieeaise  df  ilbdt  emU 
neDt  diVioe,  Dr.  Philip  Doddridge^  Heptramedtti^  !^ttr- 
dies  in  thb  seminaff  whh  c^bHai^oendtthle  dfiigeiydef,  and 
after  haring  fir^ished  his  acadeikiical  afnfd  classical  edi^ 
cation  under  the  care  of  that  exefdlent  instructor,  ^a^  pat 
ttnder  the  taition  of  Di"*  Benson.  Thi^  gent^letean,  whos^ 
abiKties  as  tt  sacre^d  critic  dre  genet^ly  acknowledged  t6 
be  ve^  ei^tensive,  wad  iit  the  habit  of  recehrrng  a  few 
yonng  getftlemen,  who  had  passed  through  the  ustiaf 
coarse  of  educatton  at  the  schools  or  id  the  traiversittes, 
for  the  purpose  of  implanting  in  them  a  More  critical  ac- 
quaintance with  the  sacred  writings.  It  was  with  thi^ 
farcent  that  young  Alexander  was  put  under  his  care;  and 
so  delighted  was  that  amiaUeman  with  his  puptPs  Hterary 
aequtrementSy  with  bis  constant  and  eager  desire  f6r  itn^^ 
provement,  atid  the  prudence  atid  modesty  of  bia  persondf 
behavionr,  that  he  gate  hiitt  bis  board,  and  introddced 
btm,  witb  paternal  affectton,  16  all  his  partknikur  acquaint-^ 
anee,  expi^ssing  the  highest  regard  for  htm  on  etefy 
occasion. 

Dating  bis  residence  in  hondaa,  Mr.  AleJ^mhter  omitted 
no  opportunity  of  adding  to  his  stock  of  kdowledge ;  and, 
on  <^it«fng  the  metropolis,  he  retired  to  Bimtrngham, 
where  he  resided  fot  somfe  time  with  his  mother.  Me 
now  preached  oeeasfionttlly  itt  that  place  and  in  its  neigb^ 
bourbood;  and  afterwatids  with  more  rc^uiarrty  at  Lefng^ 
dor,  ft  small  vlHage  ab<mt  twelve  miles  dtstant.  On 
SMatyiay^  Deo.  28, 1765>  he  retired  to  rest,  as  usual,  be^ 
fween  eleven  mid  twelte  o^elock,  witb  <be  intention  of 
ofteiathig  the  next  day  m  Longdov,  but>  at  six  on  the 
following  morning,  be  was  found  dead  in*  his  bea>}  an 
eteoc  whieb  was  sintterdy  deplored  by  his  ilrtends,  as  boili 
•  pmftt«  and  public  kMis. 


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ft  ALEXANDER. 

Shortly  after  his  decease,  tome  part  of  the  produce  of 
bis  studies  was  published  ia  London  by  the  Rev.  John 
Palmer : "  A  Paraphrase  upon  the  Fifteenth  Chapter  of  the 
First  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians;  with  Critical  Notes  and 
Observations,  and  a  Preliminary  Dissertation.  A  Com- 
mentary, with  Critical  Remarks,  upon  the  Sixth,  Seventh, 
and  part  of  the  Eighth  Chapters  to  the  Romans.  To  which 
is  added,  A  Sermon  on  Ecclesiastes  ix»  10;  composed  by 
the  author  the  day  preceding  his  death.  By  John  Alex- 
ander." It  is  observed  by, Mr.  Palmer,  that  Mr. Alexander 
was  no  less  an  object  of  admiration  to  his  acquaintance  for 
the  intenseness  of  his  application,  than  for  the  native 
strength  of  his  mind ;  by  the  united  force  of  which  he  made 
those  advances  in  knowledge  and  literature,  which  are  very 
rarely  attained  by  persons  at  so  early  an  age.  The  just- 
ness of  this  encomium  is  abundantly  evident  from  the 
work  now  mentioned,  which  contains  indubitable  proofs 
of  great  sagacity  and  learning.  The  preliminary  Disser- 
tation in  particular,  in  which  he  favours  the  opinion  of 
there  being  no  state  of  consciousness  between  death  and 
the  resurrection,  may  be  ranked  with  the  first  productions 
on  the  subject ;  though  the  same  side  of  the  question  has 
been  maintained  by  some  of  the  first  divines  of  the  last 
century. 

Yet,  though  the  study  of  religion  and  the  scriptures, 
as  became  his  profession,  was  the  principal  object  of  Mr. 
Alexander's  attention,  he  found  leisure  for  cultivating  the 
other  departments  of  literature.'  He  had  a  quick  turn  for 
observation  on  common  life,  and  possessed  no  incon«i* 
derable  portion  of  wit  and  humour.  He  had  formed  his 
style  on  the  more  correct  and  chaste  parts  of  Dr.  Swift*s 
writings,  and  had  somewhat  of  the  cast  of  that  celebrated 
author,  without  his  excessive  severity.  Of  this  he  gave 
several  proofs  in  a  monthly  work,  "  The  Library,"  sup^ 
posed  to  have  been  conducted  principally  by  Dr.  Keppis, 
and  which  was  published  in  London  in  1761  and  176£;  in 
an  ironical  "  Defence  of  Persecution,*'  **  Essays  on  Dull* 


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ANNESLEY.  9 

Bess,  Common  Sense,  Misanthropy,  the  Study  of  Man, 
Controversy,  the  Misconduct  of  Parents,  Modem  Author- 
ship, the  Present  State  of  Wit  in  Great  Britain,  the  Index 
of  the  Mind,  and  the  Fate  of  Periodical  Publications/' 
In  some  of  these  he  displays  a  genuine  humour,  pot  infe-, 
nor  to  that  of  the  most  celebrated  of  our  essayists. 

Had  his  life  been  spared,  it  has  been  generally  believed 
that  he  would  have  become  one  of  the  best  scholars  and 
most  able  writers  among  the  dissenters.  H  is  compositions 
for  the  pulpit  were  close,  heartfelt,  and  correct;  bis  deli- 
very  clear,  distinct,  and  unassuming;  yet,  with  all  these 
abilities,  he  would  scarcely  have  become  a  popular 
preacher,  though  his  manner  and  doctrine  might  de« 
servedly  obtain  the  approbation  and  esteem  p(  the  more 
judicious  among  his  hearers. 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  the  letter  of  an  intimate 
friend  of  John  Alexander's:  ^Mndeed,  his  life  was  only 
a  sketch,  but  it  was  a  master-piece  of  its  kind.  The 
virtue,  Jeaming,  and  knowledge,  which  he  crowded  into  it, 
would  have  done  honour  to  the  longest  period  of  human 
existence.  I  tliink  I  knew  him  well ;  yet  1  am  persuaded 
half  his  merit  was  unknown  even  to  his  most  intimate 
friends.    It  was  bis  talent  to  conceal  his  worth.'' 


ARTHUR  ANNESLEY, 

Earl  of  Anglesey,  and  lord  privy  seal  in  the  reign 
of  Charles  II.  was  the  son  of  Sir  Francis  Annesley, 
Bart.  Lord  Monntnorris,  and  Viscount  Valentia  in  Ireland; 
and  was  born  in  Dublin  on  the  iOth  of  July,  16 14.  At 
the  age  of  ten  years  be  was  sent  to  England,  and  at  six* 
teeii  was  entered  a  feUow  commoner  of  Magdalen  Col*- 
lege,  Oxford;  where  be  pursued  his  studies  with  great 
diligeace  for  about  three  .or  four  years,  and  was  consi** 
dered  a  yoong  man  of  great  promise  by  all  who  knew 
bim.    From  thence,  in  1634,  he  removed  to  Lincolns  Inn, 


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10  ANNESLEY. 

where  he  ftppliedi  wilh  great  aMidaity  to  the  study  of  the 
law,  till  his  father  sent  him  to  travel.  He  made  the  toar 
of  Europe^  and  eotitinaed  some  time  at  Rome;  from 
whence  he  retamed  to  England  in  1640^  when  he  was 
elected  bnight  of  the  shire  for  the  county  of  Radnor  in 
the  parliament  which  sat  at  Westminster  in  the  November 
of  the  same  year ;  hot  the  election  being  contested,  he  lost 
his  seat,  the  votes  of  the  House  being  against  him,  and 
Charles  Price,  Esq.  his  opponent,  was  declared  dniy 
elected.  At  the  commencement  of  the  dispute  between 
King  Charles  I.  and  his  parliament,  Mr.  Annesley  in^ 
dined  towards  the  royal  cause,  and  sat  in  the  parliament 
held  at  Oxford  in  )64S;  but  afterwards  thought  proper  to 
abandon  the  king's  party  and  reconcile  hioirself  to  bis 
adversaries,  into  the  favour  and  confidence  of  whom  he 
was  soon  admitted.  In  1645  he  was  appointed,  by  the 
parliament,  one  of  iheir  commissioners  in  Ulster,  where 
he  managed  tl)e  important  business  with  which  he  was 
entrusted  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties,  and  contributed 
greatly  to  the  benefit  of  the  protesunt  cause  in  Ireland. 
With  so  much  dexterity  and  judgment  did  he  conclude 
his  affairs  at  Ulster,  that  the  famous  Owen  Roe  O'Nefl 
was  disappointed  in  his  designs,  and  the  Catholic  Arch- 
bishop of  Tuam,  who  was  the  chief  support  of  his  party, 
and  whose  counsels  had  been  hitherto  very  successful,  was 
not  only  taken  prisoner,  but  all  his  papers  were  seized, 
and  his  foreign  correspondence  discovered,  whereby  vast 
advantages  accrued  to  the  protestants.  The  parliament 
had  sent  commissioners  to  the  Duke  of  Ormond  for  the 
delivery  of  Dublin  without  success,  and  the  precarious 
state  of  affairs  making  it  necessary  to  renew  their  corres*' 
pondence  with  him,  they  made  choice  of  a  second  com«> 
mictee^  and  very  wisely  placed  Mr.  Annesley's  name  at  the 
head  of  this  second  commission.  The  commissioners  landed 
at  Dublin  on  the  7tb  day  of  Jane,  1647;  and,  by  their 
prttdence  and  temper,  brought  their  negociations  to  so 
bappy  an  issae,  tbaf  in  a  few  days  a  treaty  wa«  concluded 


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ANNESLEY.  11 

With  the  Lord-Lieutenant^  which  was  signed  on  the  I9th  6f 
that  month,  and  Dablin  was  ptit  into  the  hands  of  the  parlia^ 
met^t.  It  is  to  be  lamented,  that,  when  the  commissioners 
were  possessed  of  supreme  power,  they  were  guilty  of 
numerous  irregularities.  Mr.  Annesley  disapproved  of  their 
conduct,  but  could  not  prevent  them  from  doing  several 
things  quite  contrary  to  his  judgment;  being,  therefore, 
displeased  with  his  situation,  he  resolved  on  returning  im«> 
mediately  to  England,  where  he  found  all  things  in  great 
confusion.  On  his  return  to  England,  he  seems  to  have 
steered  a  kind  of  middle  course  between  the  extremes  of 
party  Violence— had  no  concern  with  the  king's  trial  or 
death;  and,  on  account  of  his  strenuous  opposition  to 
tomt  of  the  illegal  acts  of  Cromwell,  he  was  put  among 
the  number  of  the  secluded  members.  After  the  death 
of  the  Protector,  Mr.  Annesley,  though  he  doubted  whe- 
ther the  parliament  was  not  dissolved  by  the  death  of  the 
king,  resolved  to  get  into  the  House  if  possible,  and  be- 
haved in  many  respects,  in  such  a  manner  as  clearly 
evinced  what  his  real  sentiments  were,  and  how  much  he 
bad  at  heart  the  re*settling  of  the  constitution.  In  the 
confusion  which  followed  he  had  little  or  no  share,  being 
trusted  neither  by  the  parliament  or  army.  But,  when 
the  secluded  members  began  to  resume  their  seats*,  and 
there  were  appearances  of  the  revival  of  the  old  consti* 
tution,  he  joined  with  those  who  determined  to  recal 
the  king,  and  took  a  decided  part  therein ;  and  entered 
into  a  correspondence  with  King  Charles,  which  unfor^ 
lunately  occasioned  the  death  of  his  younger  brother,  who 
was  drowned  in  stepping  into  a  packet-boat  with  letters 
for  his  Majesty. 

Soon  after  the  Restoration,  he  was  created  Earl  of  An- 
glesey, and  Baron  of  Newport  Pagnel  in  Bucks :  in  the 
patent  of  which  notice  is  taken  of  the  signal  services 

*  Wbich  luq»peiied  oo  Feb.  SI,  1660,  Mr.  Annesley  wif  duMta  Pren- 
dent  of  the  CoancU  of  State,  having  at  that  time  opened  a  correipondence 
with  Oie  exfled  Charles. 


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IS  ANNESLEY. 

reDdered  by  him  to  bis  Majesty,  to  whom  he  manifested 
his  loyalty  and  attachment  by  sitting  as  one  of  the  judges 
oo  the  trials  of  the  regicides.  He  had  always  a  con- 
siderable share  in  the  King's  favour;  and  was  heard,  with 
great  attention,  both  at  the  council  and  in  the  House  of 
Lords.  In  \667,  he  was  made  treasurer  of  the  navy,  and 
on  the  4th  of  February,  IG^'^,  his  Majesty,  in  council,  was 
pleaded  to  appoint  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  the  Earl  of 
Anglesey,  the  Lord  Holies,  the  Lord  Ashley  Cooper,  and 
Mr.  Secretary  Trevor,  to  be  a  committee  to  peruse  and 
revise  all  the  papers  and  writings  concerning  the  settle- 
ment of  Ireland,  from  the  first  to  the  last;  and  to  make 
an  abstract  thereof  in  writing.  Accordingly,  on  the  12th 
of  June,  1672,  they  made  their  report  at  large,  which  was 
the  foundation  of  a  commission,  dated  ihe  Ist  of  August, 
1672,  to  Prince  Rupert,  the  Dukes  of  Buckingham  and 
Lauderdale,  E^rl  of  Anglesey,  Lords  Ashley  and  Holies, 
Sir  John  Trevor  and  Sir  Thomas  Chicheley,  to  inspect 
the  settlements  of  Ireland,  and  all  proceedings  thereunto. 
In  1673,  the  Earl  of  Anglesey  had  the  office  of  lord 
privy  seal  conferred  upon  him,  which  he  held  several 
years,  with  the  favour  of  his  sovereign.  At  a  time  when 
it  was  the  practice  to  invent  popish  plots,  he  was  publicly 
charged,  at  the  bar  of  the  House  of  Commons,  (in  October 
I68O,)  by  one  Dangerfield,  in  an  information  delivered 
upon  oath,  with  endeavouring  to  stifle  evidence  concern- 
ing the  popish  plot,  to  promote  the  belief  of  a  presby- 
terian  one.  Yet  the  suspicion  he  incurred  from  this  attack 
did  not  prevent  him  from  being  the  only  lord  in  the 
House  of  Peers  who  dissented  from  the  vote  of  the  Com^ 
mons,  which  asserted  the  belief  of  an  Irish  popish  plot. 

On  iiccount  of  this  conduct,  be  was  unjustly  charged 
with  being  a  secret  papist;  though  there  appears  to  have 
existed  no  other  ground  for  the  suspicion,  than  that  he 
was  neither  a  bigoted  nor  a  credulous  man. 

In  I68O,  the  Earl  of  Castlehaven  wrote  Memofrs  concern- 
ing the  affairs  of  Ireland,  wherein  he  represented  the  general 


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ANNESLEY.  IS 

lebelUoQ  in  Ireland  in  the  lightest  colours  possible,  as  if  it 
bad  been  at  the  commencement  far  from  being  universal, 
and  at  last  was  rendered  so  by  the  measures  pursued  by 
those  whose  duty  it  was  to  suppress  the  insurrection.  The 
Earl  of  Anglesey  having  received  these  memoirs  from  the 
author,  thought  fit  to  write  some  animadversions  upon 
them  in  a  letter  to  the  Earl  of  Casilehaven,  wherein  he 
delivered  his  opinion  freely  in  respect  to  the  Duke  of  Or- 
mond  and  his  government  in  Ireland*  The  Duke  expostu- 
lated with  the  lord  privy  seal  on  the  subject,  to  which 
the  Earl  replied.     In  1662,  when  the  succession  produced 
a  considerable  degree  of  agitation,  the  Earl  presented  a 
very  extraordinary  remonstrance  to  the  King;  it  was  very 
warm  and  loyal,  yet  it  was  far  from  being  well  received. 
This  memorial  was  entitled,  ^*  The  account  of  Arthur  Earl 
of  Anglesey,  lord  privy  seal,  to  yout-  most  excellent  Ma- 
jesty, of  the  true  state  of  your  Majesty's  governments  and 
kingdoms,''  April  27,  1682.   In  one  part  whereof  he  says, 
"The  fatal  cause  of  all  our  mischiefs  present  or  appre- 
hended, and  which  may  cause  a  fire  which  may  bum  and 
consume  us  to  the  very  foundations,  is  the  unhappy  per- 
version of  the  Duke  of  York  (the  next  heir  to  the  crown), 
in  one  point  of  religion  ;  which  naturally  raises  jealousy 
of  the  power,  designs,  and  practices  of  the  old  enemies  of 
our  religion  and  liberti^,and  undermines  and  emasculates 
the  courage  and  constancy  even  of  those  and  their  posterity, 
who  have  been  as  faithful  to,  and  suffered  as  much  for  the 
crown  as  any  the  most  pleased  and  contented  in  our  im- 
pending miseries  can  pretend  to  have  done."  He  concludes 
with  these  words  :  **  Though  your  majesty  is  in  your  own 
person  above  the  reach  of  the  law,  and  sovereign  of  all 
your  people,  yet  the  law  is  your  master  and  instructor  how 
to  govern;  and  your  subjects  assure  themselves  you  will 
never  attempt  the  enervating  that  law  by  which  you  are 
king,  and  which  you  have  not  only  by  frequent  declara- 
tions, but  by  a  solemn  oath  upon  your  throne,  been  obliged, 
in  a  most  glorious  presence  of  your  people,  to  the  main* 


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U  ANNESLEY. 

tenaDce  of;  wd  that  therefore  you  will  look  upoo  imy  ib%% 
shall  propose  or  advise  to  the  contrary  as  unfit  persons  to 
be  near  you,  and  on  those  who  shall  persuade  you  it  in 
lawful  as  sordid  flatterers,  and  the  worst  and  mostdanger^ 
ous  enemies,  you  and  your  kingdoms  have.  What  I  have 
set  hefore  )^our  majesty,  I  have  written  freely,  and  like  a 
sworn  faithful  counsellor,  perhaps  not  like  a  wise  man 
with  regard  to  myself  as  things  stand ;  but  I  have  dia^ 
charged  my  duty,  and  will  account  it  a  reward  if  yottr 
majesty  vouchsafe  to  read  what  I  durst  not  but  write,,  and 
which  I  beseech  God  to  give  a  blessing  to." 

It  was  not,  however,  thought  advisable  to  remove  him 
from  his  high  office  on  account  of  bis  free  style  of  writing 
to  the  king,  but  the  Duke  of  Ormond  was  easily  prevailed 
vpon  to  exhibit  a  charge  against  him  on  account  of  his 
reflections  on  the  Earl  of  Castlehaven's  Memoirs,  (in  tbo 
which,  for  his  own  justification,  he  had  been  obliged  to 
refiect  on  theduke):  this  produced  a  severe  contest  betweea 
these  two  peers,  which  terminated  in  the  Earl  of  Anglesey's 
losing  his  place  of  lord  privy  seal,  being  dismissed  from 
the  council,  and  his  letter  to  Lord  Castlehaven  voted  a 
scandalous  libel,   though   bis  enemies  were  obliged  to 
confess  he  was  treated  with  both  severity  and  injustice* 
After  this  overthrow  he  lived  very  much  ia  retirement  at 
bis  country  seat  at  Blechingtoa  in  Oxfordshire,  where  bq 
seeipiogly  resigoed  all  avibitious  views,  and  devoted  hi^ 
time  to  the  calm  ei\joyment  of  study ;  but  so  well  verged 
wa$  he  in  the  mysteries  of  court  intrigues,  that  he  got 
into  favour  again  in   the  reign  of  James  11^    and   is 
supposed  to  have  been  destined  for  the   high  office  of 
lord  chancellor,  if  the  design  had  not  been  prevented  by 
his  death,  which  happened  at  his  bouse  in  Drury-lane, 
April  6,  1686,  ia  the  73rd  year  of  his  age.  He  left  several 
qhildreu  by  his  wife,  who  was  one  of  the  co-heiresses  of 
Sir  Jame^  Altbam* 

He  wa9  a  man  endowed  with  superior  talents  apd  ex-« 
tea3ive  learning,  was  well  v^sed  i^  the  Greek  and  Romw 


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ANNESLEY.  l$ 

history,  and  thoroughly  acquainted  wiUi  the  spirit  wd 
policy  of  those  oatioas.  The  legal  and  constitutional 
history  of  his  country  were  the  objects  of  his  particular 
stadyi  both  of  which  he  had  pursued  with  so  much  perse«- 
veraoce  as  to  be  esteemed  one  of  the  first  lawyers  of  his 
age.  He  wrote  with  great  facility,  and  was  the  author  of 
several  political  and  religious  publications  and  histori<^ 
narratives;  but  the  largest  aud  most  valuable  of  all  his 
worlds  of  this  description  was  unfortunately  lost^  or,  as  somf 
iosinuate,  maliciously  destroyed  ;  this  was  "  A  History  of 
the  Troubles  in  Ireland,  from  1641  to  I66O."  He  was  om 
of  the  first  English  peers  who  distinguished  himself  by 
collecting  9  cboioe  library,  which  he  did  with  much  car^ 
and  at  a  great  e^pi^nsei  designing  it  to  remain  in  his 
family,  but  owjng  to  some  circumstances  which  have  not 
been  explained,  his  books,  a  few  months  after  his  decease^ 
wer^  exposed  to  sale  by  a  Mr,  Millington,  a  famous 
«yctipoeer  of  ^at  period.  This  sale  has  been  rendered 
memorable  by  the  discovery  of  the  Earl's  famous  memo* 
random  in  the  blank  l^af  of  an  Uwt  B^Ouioit  which  was  as 
follows:  ''King  Charles  the  Second,  and  the  Duke  of  York 
did  both  (in  the  last  session  of  parliament  1675),  when  ( 
shewed  them  in  the  lords'  house  the  written  copy  of  this, 
wherein  are  some  corrections  and  alterations  (written  with 
the  late  King  Charles  the  First's  own  hand),  assure  me  that 
this  was  none  of  the  said  King's  cpmpiliog,  but  made  by 
Dr.Ganden,  Bishop  of  Exeter,  which  I  here  insert  for  the 
updeceivipg  others  in  this  point  by  attesting  thus  much 
under  aiy  hand,  Anglesey."  Bpt  perhaps  the  reader  will 
doubt  the  genuioeness  of  this  memorandum,  if  be  reads 
''A  Viadicatioo  of  King  Charles  the  Martyr,"  published  in 
quarto,  in  17II*  Indeed  Bishop  Burnet,  in  his  History  of  his 
owa Times,  vol.i.  p.  50,  relates  pretty  near  the  same  foolish 
story;  bnt  if  the  reader  carefully  considers  that  passage,  he 
will  evidently  s^  it  destroys  itself,  for,  amongst  other 
thiags  t\kai  may  be  J9st)y  observed  against  the  veracity  of 
that  aceonnlt  he  (B«vm^)  ip^^s  pf  the  Duke  of  Somerset 
and  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  as  living  at  a  time  whea  it 


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16  ANNESLEY. 

it  well  known  they  were  both  dead.  Hit  versatility^  in 
regard  to  hit  political  conduct,  has  been  often  censured  ; 
yet  even  those  who  have  been  so  ready  to  blame,  have 
discovered  and  acknowledged  strong  gleams  of  integrity 
occasionally  shining  through  it.  He  certainly  succeeded, 
in  a  great  degree,  in  ingratiating  himself  with  men  and 
parties,  as  opposite  as  possible  in  their  opinions  and 
politics;  and,  if  it  was  true  that  James  II.  designed  him 
for  lord  chancellor  at  a  time  when  he  had  Jefferies  at  his 
command,  nothing  (as  has  been  observed  with  much  truth) 
could  throw  a  greater  stigma  on  the  Earl's  character. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  his  Lordship's  writings,  pub- 
lished during  his  life-time: — 1.  "Truth  Unveiled  in  behalf 
of  the  Church  of  England ;  being  a  Vindication  of  Mr. 
John  Standish's  Sermon,  preached  before  the  King,  and 
published  by  his  Majesty's  Command  :  to  which  is  added, 
A  short  Treatise  on  the  Subject  of  Transubstantiation," 
1676,  4to. — 2.  "  A  Letter  from  a  Person  of  Honour  in  the 
Country,  written  to  the  Earl  of  Castlehaven ;  being  Ob- 
servations  and  Reflections  on  his  Lordship's  Memoirs 
concerning  the  Wars  of  Ireland,"  l68l,8vo. — S.  "A  True 
Account  of  the  whole  Proceedings  between  James  Duke 
of  Ormond,  and  Arthur  Earl  of  Anglesey,  before  the  King 
and  his  Council,'*  &c.  l68£,  folio. — 4."  A  Letter  of  Remarks 
upon  Jovian,"  1683, 4to.     Besides  these,  he  wrote  many 
other  things ;  the  following  of  which  were  published  after 
his  decease : — 1.  "  The  Privileges  of  the  House  of  Lords 
and  Commons  argued  and  stated  in  Two  Conferences  be- 
tween both  Houses,  April  19  and  22,  I671 :  to  which  is 
added,  A  Discourse  wherein  the  Rights  of  the  House  of 
Lords  are  truly  asserted;  with  learned  Remarks  on  the 
securing  Arguments  and  pretended  Precedents  offered  at 
that  time   against  their  Lordships."  — 2.  "The  King's 
Right  of  Indulgence  in  Spiritual  Matters,  with  the  Equity 
thereof  asserted,"  1688,  4to.— 3.  "  Memoirs  intermixed 
with  Moral,  Political,  and  Historical  Observations,  by  way 
of  discourse,  in  a  Letter  to  Sir  Peter  Pett/'  169S,  8vo. 


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17 


Rev.  MERVYN  AR^HDALL, 

An  exemplary  divi^ie  and  learned  atitiqnaryy  was  descended 
from  John  Archdall,  of  Norsom-Hall,  in  the  county  of 
Norfolk,  who  came  into  Ireland  in  the  reign  of  Qaeen 
Eiizabetby  and  settled  at  Castle  Arcfadall,  in  the  county  of 
Fermanagh,  prior  to  the  year  169^. 

The  subject  of  the  present  memoir  was  bom  in  Dublin,  on 
the  22nd  of  April,  1723,  and  was  educated  in  the  university 
in  that  city;  after  which  period,  his  passion  for  collecting 
coins,  medals,  and  other  antiques,  and  bis  research  into  the 
monastic  history  of  Ireland,  introduced  him  to  the  celebrated 
Walter  Harris,  the  learned  editor  of  Ware's  Works ;  Charles 
Smith,  the  i^uthor  of  the  Irish  County  Histories ;  Thomas 
Prior  (the  celebrated  patriot),  whose  relation  he  married ; 
and,  latterly,  to  Dr.  Richard  Pocock,  Archdeacon  of  Dub- 
lin, who,  when  he  was  advanced  to  the  see  of  Ossory,  did 
not  forget  the  merits  of  Mr.  Archdall,  as  he  bestowed  on 
Iiim  the  living  of  Attanah  and  a  prebend,  which  not  only 
produced  him  a  comfortable  support,  but  enabled  him  to 
pursue  zealously  his  Monastic  History  of  Ireland,  in  which 
he  bad  already  made  considerable  progress. 

It  is  well  known  also,  that  the  bishop  frequently  retired 
from  the  incessant  noise  occasioned  by  the  hurry  of  visits 
at  bis  palace  in  Kilkenny,  to  Attanah ;  where  he  found, 
in  the  good  sense,  learning,  and  candour  of  Mr.  Archdall, 
a  relaxation  rardy  to  be  met  with ;  and  there  it  was  that  he 
revised  and  improved  some  of  his  works,  and  pursued  the 
outline  of  his  Tours  through  Ireland  and  Scotland,  which 
Dr.  Ledwich  informs  us  are  in  the  British  Museum. 

Mervyn  Archdall,  like  numberless  ingenious  mred,  want- 
ed but  the  enlivening  and  maturing  warmth  of  patronage, 
not  only  to  be  highly  useful  in  the  different  departments 
of  learoiog,  but  even  to  attain  eminence  in  ihem.  The 
excellent  bishop,  hit  patron,  whose  virtues  reflected  honour 
on  his  exalted  station  in  the  church,  quitted  this  traup 
VOL.  1.  c 


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18  ARCHDALL. 

sitorj  life  in  1765.  Mr.  Archdall  had,  at  that  period, 
heen  so  indefatigable  in  his  researches  that  his  collec- 
tions amounted  to  nearly  two  folio  volumes,  and  these 
on  a  subject  interesting  to  every  man  of  property  in 
Ireland;  as  the  records  relating  to  the  monastic  foanda* 
tionsyboth  from  the  original  donors,  and  the  grants  of  these 
by  the  crown  to  the  present  possessors,  include  more  thaa 
a  third  of  all  the  land  in  the  island ;  and  yet,  invaluable  as 
these  records  were,  for  they  were  the  fruits  of  forty  yean 
intense  application,  there  was  found  no  individual  of 
generosity  and  patriotism  enough,  to  enable  the  collector 
to  give  them  to  the  world.  He  was,  therefore,  obliged  to 
abridge  the  whole,  and  contract  it  within  one  quarto 
volume,  which  he  published  in  1786,  under  the  title  of 
*'  Monasticon  Hibernicum.^  It  was  unlucky  for  the  author, 
that  he  existed  thirty  years  ago  instead  of  at  the  present 
period,  when  a  refusal  of  patronage  is  looked  upon  in  a 
worse  light  than  heresy;  as,  instead  of  his  being ^obliged 
to  abridge  his  book  in  a  quarto,  he  would  have  had  (in  all 
probability)  to  have  submitted  it  to  the  world  in  the  shape 
of  an  elephant  folio. . 

The  next  of  Archdall's  literary  labours  was  an  enlarged 
edition  of  Lodge's  Peerage  of  Ireland,  which  he  extended 
from  four  to  seven  volumes  octavo.  This  be  printed  in 
1780 ;  and,  of  this  work,  the  following  curious  anecdote  it 
recorded : — Mr.  Lodge  bad  left  numerous  additions  to  his 
work  in  MS.  but  written  in  a  cypher  declared  to  be  totally 
inexplicable  by  all  the  short4iand  writers  in  Dublin ;  these 
MSS.  were  about  to  be  given  up  in  despair,  when  Mra. 
Archdall,  (his  surviving  relict^)  a  woman  of  considerable 
ability  and  ingenuity, applied  to  the  arduous  task,  and  after 
a  short  time  happily  discovered  the  key, and  thereby  greatly 
enriched  the  edition. 

Having  married  his  only  daughter  to  a  clergyman,  he 
resigned  part  of  his  preferments,  in  the  diocese  of  Ossory, 
to  his  son-in-law ;  but  was  advanced*  to  the  rectory  of 
Slane,  in  the  diocese  of  Meath,  which  he  did  not  long 


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ARCHDEKIN.  19 

enjoy,  as  be  exchanged  thii  life  for  a  better,  on  the  6th  of 
ikogast,  1791* 

As  an  antiquary,  he  was  profound ;  as  a  divine,  exem- 
plary; as  a  husband  and  parent,  affectionate;  and  as  a 
friend,  liberal  and  communicative. 


RICHARD  ARCHDEKIN, 

Am  eminent  Jesuit,  was  a  native  of  the  county  of  Kil- 
kenny, and  became  a  member  of  that  society  at  Mechlin, 
in  Brabant,  in  1642,  at  the  age  of  twenty*tbree.  He  taught 
divinity  and  philosophy  successively  at  Louvain  and  Ant- 
werp, and,  at  the  latter  place,  became  rector  of  the  stu« 
dents  of  the  highest  class  in  1676,  and  afterwards  professor 
of  divinity.  Be  died  there  about  169O.  Peter  Talbot 
gives  him  the  diaracter  of  "  a  good  father,  but  an  incau- 
tious writer;"  and  the  Abb^  de  la  Berthier,  in  his  parallel 
of  the  Doctrines  of  the  Pagans  and  Jesuits,  quarrels  with 
a  proposition  advanced  by  him  in  his  under-named  Theo- 
logia  Tripartita,  viz.  *'  That  absolution  is  not  to  be  de- 
ferred to  '  habitual  sinners,'  till  they  are  actually  reform- 
ed ;**  to  which  he  opposes  that  saying  of  Horace,  Epist. 
ii.  Quo  semel  est  imbuia  rccens  servabit  odor  em  testa  diu; 
and  of  Catullus,  Epigr.  Ixxvii.  Difficile  est  longum  subito 
deponere  atnorem.  And  from  thence  humorously  makes 
these  two,  and  other  pagan  authors,  anti-jesuits.  He 
wrote,  "  Of  Miracles,  and  the  new  Miracles  done  by  the 
Relicks  of  St.  Francis  Xaviers,  in  the  Jesuiu'  College,  at 
Mechlin.''  Louvanii,  1667,  8vo.  This  piece  is  in  Eng- 
lish and  Irish. 

^  Prascipufls  Controversise  Fidei  ad  facilem  Methodum 
redactae;  ac  Resolutiones  Theologies  ad  omnia  Sacerdo- 
tis  mooia,  pra&sertim  in  Missionibus,  accommodate,  cum 
apparatn  ad  Doctrinam  sacram.  Cui  accessit  summa  Doc- 
trinse  Christians  selectis  Exemplis  elucidata."  The  first 
title  is,  "  Theologia,  Polemica,  Practices,  Sacra."  Lou- 
vanii, l671>  8vo. 


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20  ARTHUR. 

'^  Vitce  tt  Miraculorum  S.  Patricii,  Hibernies  Apo8t6lt> 
Epitome,  cum  brevi  Notiti&  Hibernis/'  LonvaDii,  1671, 
8vo«  printed  with  the  former;  which  be  afterwards  re- 
vised and  enlarged,  and  published  under  the  title  of 
"  Theologia  Tripartita  Universa,  sive  Resolutiones  Pole- 
mical, Practicse,  Cojntroversiarum  et  Questionum  etiam 
recentissimarum,  quce  in  Schol^  et  in  Praxi  per  omnia  usum 
praecipuum  habent;  Missionariis,  et  aliis  Animarum  Cu- 
ratoribus,  et  Theotogiae  Stndiasis,  solerter  accommodatas, 
Editio  quinta/'  AntwerpisD,  1682,  3  vols.  Bvo.  If  we 
may  judge  by  the  number  of  editions,  this  book  carried  a 
vast  reputation  abroad.  I  have  seen  the  eleventh  edition 
of  it  printed,  Venice  1700,  4to.  after  the  author's  death, 
and,  for  what  I  know,  there  may  be  others  since.  At  the 
time  the  eight  edition  was  undertaken,  there  were  sixteen 
thousand  of  them  disposed  of,  and  a  great  demand  for 
more. 

He  also  wrote  and  published,  "  The  Lives  of  Peter 
Talbot,  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  and  of  Oliver  Plunket,  Pri- 
mate of  Ireland,"  which  are  printed  in  the  eleventh  edi« 
dion  of  his  "  Theologia  Tripartita." 

Sotvellus  tells  us,  that  he  had  a  book  ready  for  the  press, 
entitle,  **  Theologia  Apostolica." 


JAMES  ARTHUR, 

Professor  of  divinity  in  the  university  of  Salamanca, 
was  a  native  of  Limerick,  and  professed  himself  a  Domi* 
nican  friar  in  the  abbey  of  St.  Stephen's,  at  Salamanca. 
After  teaching  for  some  years  with  great  applause  in  se* 
veral  convents  of  his  order,  in  Spain,  he  received  the  degree 
of  Doctor  in  the  university  of  Salamanca,  and  was  ap« 
pointed  professor  of  divinity.  Having  filled  this  post 
'  with  great  credit,  for  many  years,  he  was  requested  to 
take  the  first  chair  in  the  university  of  Coimbra,  which 
he  held  with  general  applause  till  the  revolution  in  favour 
^  of  the  Duke  of  Braganza  rendered  Portugal  independent 


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ASK.  ai 

of  the  throne  of  Spaio»  But  this  happy  diange  io  the 
affiurs  of  the  nation  proved  fatal  to  the  risjog  prospects  of 
Arthnr,  for  his  great  merit,  having  procured  him  many 
enemies,  they  made  a  pretence  of  the  devotion  of  the  new 
king  to  the  immaculate  conception,  to  prevail  on  that 
monarch  to  oblige  all  the  professors  of  the  university  to 
swear  to  defend  that  doctrine,  which,  being  a  controverted 
point  between  the  disciples  of  Duns  Scotus  and  Thomas- 
Aqninas,  the  former  maintaining  the  affirmative,  and  the 
latter  the  negative,  in  which  be  was  supported  by  the. 
Dominicans,  and  Arthur,  having,  on  his  admission  intoi 
the  order,  sworn  to  maintain  his  doctrine,  on  his  refusal 
of  the  new  oath,  was  deprived  of  his  professorship,  in 
164£.  He  withdrew  to  tlie  royal  convent  of  St.  Domin 
nick,  at  Lisbon,  where  he  died  about  the  year  1670.  He» 
wrote  *'  Commentaria  in  totum  fer^  S.  Thorns  de  Aquino 
Sumenem,"  in  two  volumes,  one  of  which  was  published 
in  1665,  folio;  and,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  he  was  pre* 
paring  ten  volumes  more  of  the  above  learned  work, 


ST.  GEORGE  ASH, 

Omcb  Vice-Chancellor  of  Dublin  university,  was  a  native 
of  the  county  of  Hbscommon,  and  received  his  education 
io  the  university  of  Dublin,  of  which  he  was  elected  a 
fellow  in  l679,  and  became  provost  of  it  in  the  room  of 
Doctor  Robert  Huntington,  who  resigned  on  the  £nd  Sep- 
tember, 169^  being  then  in  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  his 
age.  Shortly  after  this  he  became  vice-chancellor,  but^ 
prior  to  that  advancement,  was  obliged  to  quit  bis  coun- 
try, from  the  tyrannous  acts  of'  Kir^  James  II.  He 
came  to  England,  and  engaged  himself  in  the  service  of 
the  Lord  Paget,  who  was  King  William's  embassador  at 
the  court  of  Vienna,  and  to  whom  he  was  both  chaplain 
and  secretary.  In  these  stations  he  remained  several 
years,  nor  did  he  meditate  a  return  to  his  native  country, 
ontiJ  after  the  passing  of  the  Acts  of  Settlement.    He 


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»  ASH. 

was  promoted  to  the  bisbopric  of  Cloyne,  by  letters 
patent,  dated  July  15,  1695 ;  and  was  consecrated  the 
same  month,  in  Christ  Church,  Dublin,  by  Narcissus, 
Archbishop  of  Dublin,  assisted  by  the  Bishops  of  Meath^ 
Waterford,  and  Lismore,  and,  at  the  same  time,  was  called 
into  the  privy  council.  On  the  1st  of  June,  1697^  he  was 
translated,  by  the  King's  letter,  to  the  see  of  Clogher,andy 
during  the  period  he  held  the  bishopric  thereof,  expended 
near  the  sum  of  nine  hundred  pounds,  in  repairing  and 
improving  the  episcopal  houses  and  lands  belonging  to 
that  see,  which,  upon  due  proof,  was  acknowledged  and 
allowed  him,  on  the  25th  of  July,  1700,  by  Michael,  Arch- 
bishop of  Armagh,  his  metropolitan,  in  pursuance  of 
an  Act  of  Parliament  of  King  William,  which  gives  a 
demand  of  two-thirds  of  the  sum  expended,  against  the 
next  successor.  From  this  see  he  was  advanced  to  that 
of  Derry,  by  letters  patent,  dated  the  ft5th  February,  1716, 
and  died  in  Dublin,  on  the  27th  February,  17 17;  and  was 
buried  in  Christ  Church,  in  that  city.  By  his  will,  he 
bequeathed  all  his  mathematical  books  to  the  college  of 
Dublin,  of  which  he  had  been  successively  fellow  and 
provost.  He  was  likewise  a  member  of  the  Royal  So- 
ciety, in  whose  Transactions  are  several  articles  of  his 
writing.  He  published,  also,  four  Sermons,  and  two 
Mathematical  Tracts,  and  several  other  minor  produc- 
tions. 

It  is  recorded,  on  the  authority  of  Mac  Mahon,  that,  on 
the  death  of  John  Vesey,  Archbishop  of  Tuam,  in  1706, 
our  prelate  had  the  offer  of  being  advanced  to  diat  see; 
but  this  he  refused,  it  not  being  so  profitable,  although  of 
more  honour  than  the  see  of  Clogher,  to  which  he  was 
translated. 


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23 


JOSEPH  ATKINSON 

IVas  a  man  who  folly  merited  the  epithet"  worthy;'*  and 
trnly  sorry  are  we  to  inform  oar  readers,  that,  with  almost 
every  particular  of  his  life,  we  are  wholly  unacquainted. 

He  was  a  native  of  Ireland,  and  was  treasurer  of  the 
Ordnance^  under  the  administiation  of  the  Earl  of  Moira. 
He  was  the  intimate  of  Moore,  Cnrran,  and  the  rest  of  the 
galaxy  of  Irish  genius ;  and  was,  himself,  a  poet  of  more 
than  ordinary  ability,  as  the  following  jeu  desprU,  ad- 
dressed to  his  friend  Moore,  on  the  birth  of  his  third 
daughter,  will  evince: — 

I'm  sorry,  dear  Moere,  there  *h  a  damp  to  your  joy, 
Kor  tkink  my  old  strain  of  mytiiology  stapid, 

When  I  say,  that  your  wile  had  a  right  to  a  boy, 
For  Voiiu  is  nothing  without  a  young  Cnpid. 

Bat  since  Fate,  the  boon  that  yon  wish'd  for,  refuses, 
By  granting  tliree  girls  to  your  happy  embraces, 

She  bat  meant,  while  yo«  wandered  abroad  with  the  ilfases, 
Yoor  wife  should  be  circled  9t  home  by  tiie  Graces  / 

He  died  in  Dublin,  at  the  age  of  75,  in  October  1818, 
and  was  sincerely  regretted  by  all  who  knew  him ;  being 
admired  by  the  young  for  his  conviviality,  and  respected 
Igr  the  aged  for  his  benevolence  and  numerous  good 
qualities. 

The  following  beautiful  lines,  from  the  pen  of  his  in* 
timate,  Moore,  are  intended  to  be  engraved  on  his  se- 
pulchre:— 

If  ever  lot  was  prosperously  east, 
If  ever  life  was  like  the  lengthen'd  flow 

Of  some  sweet  music,  sweetness  to  the  last, 
Twas  his,  who,  moum'd  by  many,  sleeps  below. 

The  sunny  temper,  bright  where  all  is  strife, 
The  simple  heart  that  mocks  at  worldly  wiles, 

light  wit,  that  plays  along  tiie  cahn  of  life, 
And  stirs  its  languid  surface  into  smiles. 

Pure  Charity  that  comes  not  in  a  shower, 
Sadden  and  loud,  oppressing  what  it  feeds ; 

But,  like  the  dew,  with  gradual  silent  power, 
Fdt  in  the  Uoom  It  leaves  along  the  meads. 


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24  AVERILL. 

The  happy  grateful  spirit  that  tmproTet, 
Aod  brightens  etery  gift  by  Fortone  given; 

That  wander  where  it  will,  with  those  it  loves. 
Makes  every  place  a  borne,  and  home  a  heaven ! 

All  these  were  his — Oh!  tfaon  who  read'st  this  stone. 
When  for  thyself  thy  children,  to  the  sky. 

Thou  homb^y  prayest,  ask  this  boon  alone. 
That  ye  like  him  may  live,  like  him  may  die. 


JOHN  AVERILL, 

A  PIOUS  and  exemplary  prelate,  was  born  in  the  county 
of  Antrim,  in  the  year  1713^  and  received  bis  education 
in  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  of  which  his  nephew,  Dr. 
Andrews,  was  afterwards  provost.  On  the  9tb  of  January, 
177 1»  be  was  consecrated  Dean  of  Limerick,  in  Christ 
phurch,  Dublin,  by  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin ;  ^ut  lived 
not  long  to  enjoy  his  elevation,  as  he  died  on  the  14th  of 
September  following,  at  [nnismore,in  the  county  of  Kerry, 
being  then  on  his  visitation.  He  was  a  divine  whose 
worth  exhibited  itself  more  in  works  than  words,  for, 
during  the  short^eriod  he  was  dean,  he  gave  two  hundred 
guineas  to  be  lent  in  small  sums  to  poor  tradesmen ;  and 
likewise  discovered  strong  proofs,  that  he  would  have  ex- 
pended the  greater  part  of  his  income  in  benevolent  actions. 
The  prifnitive  church  was  not  possessed  of  a  more  worthy 
pillar  than  Bishop  Averill,  from  whose  precepts  and  ex- 
amples  every  good  consequence  might  rationally  be  ex- 
pected. He  was  fraught  with  charijly,  meekness,  and 
humanity;  and  laid  the  foundation  for  reviving  many 
good  institutions  in  the  diocese.  He  had  no  ambition 
but  in  the  service  of  God ;  and  sought  not  to  possess  those 
luxuries  of  life  which  bis  income  would  readily  have  pro- 
cured for  him,  but  was  contented  with  the  bare  conve- 
niences of  living,  and  devoted  the  major  part  of  bis  afflu- 
ence to  the  assistance  of  the  distressed,  and  the  relief  of 
those  '^  that  have  none  to  help  them." 
His  remains  were  interred  with  great  solemnity  on  the 


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AYLMER.  25 

18th  of  September,  near  the  commuDion  table,  in  St. 
Mary's  Church;  and  the  fonowing  inscription,  on  a  brass 
plate,  has  been  fixed  over  them : — 

"  Uic  jacet  recte  Rev.  JpHANNK  Aybrill,  D.  D. 
Epiacopiis  Limericeosis,  obiit  14mo.  Sept.  1771 ,  ^tatis  S8.  , 

Ci^iiis  si  in  Deura  pietatem. 
In  regem  fidem, 
In  ecdesiam  amorem, 
Si  in  eqiiales  liberalitateniy 
In  omnes  spectes  benevolentiaiB, 
Vix  stas  lUla  tnlit  parem, 
"  Nolla  soperiorem!" 


MATTHEW  AYLMER, 

For  his  senrices  to  his  country,  created  Lord  Ajimer, 
was  the  second  son  of  Sir  Christopher  Aylmer,  of  Bairath, 
io  the  county  of  Meath.    He  was,  at  first,  employed  in 
nuMDg  soidiers  for  the  service  of  the  states  of  Holland, 
against  Lewis  XIV. ;  and  was  afterwards  sent  to  sea  by  the 
celebrated  Duke  of  Buckingham.    In  1678  he  was  madel 
lieutenant  of  the  Charles  galley;  and,  passing  through 
various  promotions,  was  made  captain  of  the  Swallow, 
in  October  l688.     He  is  said  to  have  been  zealously  at- 
tached to  the  principles  which  effected  the  Revolution ;  yet, 
when  he  comsianded  the  Swallow,  he  took  a  ship  belong- 
ing to  the  fleet  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  oh  board  of  which 
were  four  companies  of  Colonel  Babington's  regiment* 
He  is  praised,  on  this  account,  by  Charnock,  as  having 
sacrificed  his  own  political  principles  rather  than  betray 
his  trast;  but,  if  he  had  considered  that  he  had,  for  many 
years,  been  receiving  the  pay  of  his  country,  and  bore 
his  commission  for  his  country's  honour  and  defence,  he 
need  not  have  scrupled  to  abandon  a  prince,  whose  own 
children  f<Nrsook  him,  and  whom  it  was  judged  necessary 
to  remove  from  the  throne.    If  every  one  had  acted  like 
Aylmer,  his  country's  chains  bad  been  riveted  instead  of 
broken. 


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26  AYLMER. 

The  new  government,  however,  promoted  him  to  the 
command  of  the  Royal  Katherine,  of  82  guns ;  in  which 
he  had  a  share  in  the  battle  off  Beachy  Head.  In  the 
following  year,  he  commanded  a  squadron  of  fourteen 
ships;  when  he  confirmed  the  peace  with  the  Barbary 
States,  and  brought  home  in  safety  the  Smyrna  fleet. 
After  this,  he  had  a  share,  under  Admiral  Russell,  in  the 
most  glorious  sea-fight  in  the  whole  reign,  one  which 
totally  annihilated  all  the  hopes  entertained  by  the  French 
of  making  an  attack  upon  England.  This  was  the  battle 
off  Cape  La  Hogue,  in  which  he  greatly  distinguished 
himself.  He  was  rewarded,  by  being  promoted  to  be 
rear-admiral  of  the  red,  and  hoisted  his  flag  on  board  the 
Sovereign,  of  100  guns. 

The  following  year  he  went  out,  under  Admiral  Russell, 
with  the  fleet  to  the  Mediterranean,  as  vice-admiral  of  the 
blue;  and,  as  Admiral  Russell  fell  sick  at  Alicant,  the 
chief  command  devolved  upon  him.  They  had,  however, 
done  their  business  too  effectually  at  Cape  La  Hogue,  to 
have  any  hope  of  the  enemy  coming  out  to  meet  them  at 
sea.  He  was  afterwards  employed  in  blockading  the 
enemy  in  the  channel ;  and,  in  the  end  of  1698,  was  sent 
out  as  commander-in-chief  of  the  squadron  in  the  Medi* 
terranean.  In  thu  capacity  he  visited  Algiers,  Tunis,  and 
Tripoli;  at  all  these  places  he  was  most  honourably  treated, 
and  was  successful  in  his  negociations.  In  1699  he  retired 
from  active  service;  and,  in  the  greater  part  of  Queen 
Anne's  reign,  represented  in  parliament  the  borough  of 
Dover.  In  1701  he  was  made  governor  of  Deal  Castle  ; 
on  the  I2th  of  November,  1709)  on  the  death  of  Prince 
George  of  Denmark,  he  was  raised  to  be  admiral  and 
commander-in-chief  of  the  fleet.  He  held  the  same 
rank  under  George  I.  and  in  17l6  he  had  the  honour  to 
bring  his  majesty  back  from  Holland.  In  reward  of  his 
long  and  faithful  services  to  his  country,  he  was,  in  1718, 
created  Baron  Aylmer  of  the  kingdom  of  Ireland ;  and,  in 


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AYLMER-  ^7 

17^1  rear-admiral  of  Great  Britain — which  honours  he 
did  not  long  live  to  enjoy^  as  he  died  the  same  year. 

He  was  a  most  valaable  officer^  and  if  he  had  not  the 
honour  as  commander-in-chief  to  gain  any  great  victory, 
it  arose  from  the  humiliation  of  the  enemy,  who  dared  not 
encounter  the  British  fleets,  after  the  complete  overthrow 
he  had  contributed  to  give  them  at  Cape  La  Hogue. 


GEORGE  AYLMER 

AVas  the  third  son  of  Sir  Christopher  Aylmer,  of  Balrath, 
in  Ireland.  He  was  successively  appointed  lieutenant  of 
the  Sweepstakes,  and  the  Dunkirk ;  and  promoted  to  the 
command  of  the  Dartmouth  on  the  llth  of  September, 
1680.  He  was  removed  into  the  Ann  yacht  on  the 
14th  of  April;  and,  on  the  8th  of  February,  1683-4,  he 
was  appointed  captain  of  the  Foresight.  James  II.  sup- 
posing  him  to  be  an  officer  strongly  attached  to  him,  ap- 
pointed him  to  the  command  of  the  Reserve;  and  after- 
wards, on  Uie  £6th  of  October,  1688,  to  the  Portland. 
But  James  was  certainly  mistaken  respecting  the  prin- 
ciples of  Captain  Aylmer,  for,  though  he  had  too  much 
integrity  to  quit  the  service  of  his  former  sovereign  while 
he  kept  possession  of  his  throne,  he  would  not  become  the 
supporter  of  that  sovereign's  measures,  in  concert  with  a 
foreign  power  who  was  the  natural  enemy  of  this  country*, 
against  those  whose  allegiance  James's  tyranny  had  broken. 
He  acknowledged  the  Prince  of  Orange  his  lawful  sove- 
reigO)  by  the  title  of  WiHiamlll.  and  that  monarch  con- 
tiooed  him  in  his  command — a  trust  be  highly  merited. 
He  was  soon  after  killed  at  the  battle  of  Bantry  Bay,  after 
haTiog  eminently  distinguished  himself  by  his  heroic 
iotrepidity« 


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as  BARNEWALL. 

CAPTAIN  WILLIAM  BAILLIE 

Was  an  ingenious  amateur,  who  acquired  a  distinguished 
reputation  as  an  engraver.  He  was  a  native  of  Ireland  ; 
was  borb  about  the  year  1736,  and  passed  the  early  part 
of  his  life  in  the  army,  from  which  he  retired  with  the 
rank  of  captain  of  cavalry.  On  quitting  "  the  spirit-stir- 
ring drum,''  &c.  &c.  Captain  Baillie  devoted  his  life  en- 
tirely to  the  arts,  and  was,  for  many  years,  considered  one 
of  the  most  enlightened  connoisseurs  of  his  time. 

By  this  gentleman  there  are  several  plates  engraved  in 
various  manners,  but  his  most  admired  productions  are 
those  he  executed  in  the  style  of  Rembrandt,  and  his 
charming  copies  after  the  prints  of  that  master.  The 
works  of  Captain  Baillie  consist  of  about  a  hundred  plates, 
a  list  of  the  principal  of  which  is  to  be  found  in  Bryan's 
Dictionary  of  Painters. 


MARY  BARBER, 

A  POETBSS,  contemporary  with  Cons  tan  tia  ^Grierson  and 
Letitia  Pilkington^  was  born  in  Dublin  about  the  year 
1712.  She  married  a  tradesman,  and  was  a  highly  esti- 
mable character.  She  published  a  small  volume  of  poems, 
under  the  patronage  of  Dean  Swift  and  Lord  Orrery,  which 
are  moral  and  not  inelegant.    She  died  in  the  year  1757. 


ANTHONY  BARNEWALL, 

A  YOUNG  officer  of  great  promise,  was  the  youngest  son 
of  John,  eleventh  Lord  Trimlestown.  The  religion  of 
this  family  precluding  all  possibility  of  his  rising  to  emi- 
nence in  his  native  land,  be  retired  in  his  seventeenth 
year  into  Germany,  where  he  entered  the  imperial  service, 
in  which  he  continued  until  his  decease,  in  September 
1799.    The  following  account  of  him  is  given  in  a  letter 


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6AR0.  eg 

fi-om  a  general  in  tfae  imperial  service,  to  Viscount  Monnt- 
garrett : — "  Amongst  all  those  brave  men  who  have  lost 
their  lives  at  the  battle  of  Crotzka,  none  is  so  much  la- 
mented by  all  as  Mr.  Anthony  Barnewall,  the  Lord  Tritti- 
leston's  youngest  son :  he  came  into  Germany  in  General 
Hamilton's  regiment  of  cuirassiers,  when  hb  good  sense, 
humility,  good  nature,  and  truly  honest,  worthy  prin- 
ciples, gained  him  the  love  and  esteem  of  all  who  had  the 
least  acquaintance  with  him ;  we  have  had  scarce  any  ac- 
tion of  any  note  with  the  Turks  that  he  was  not  in,  and 
always  acquitted  himself  with  uncommon  resolution*  The 
day  before  the  said  battle  he  was  made  a  lieutenant;  the 
next  fatal  day,  the  regiment  in  which  he  had  his  commis- 
sion, was  one  of  the  first  that  charged  the  enemy ;  at  the 
very  first  onset,  his  captain  and  cornet  were  killed,  when 
he  took  up  the  standard,  tore  off  theflag^  tied  it  round  Us 
waist,  and  commanded  the  troop ;  he  led  out  twice  to  the 
charge,  and  was  as  often  repulsed ;  the  third  time,  he 
turned  himself  to  his  men,  and  said,  '  Cdme  on,  my  brave 
fellows ;  we  shall  certainly  now  do  the  work  :  follow  me.' 
He  then  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  pursued  into  the 
thickest  of  the  enemy,  where  be  was  surrounded,  defend- 
ing himself  for  a  considerable  time  with  amazing  courage;' 
at  last  he  fell  quite  covered  with  wounds,  and  dying,  left 
such  an  example  6f  true  courage  and  bravery,  as  cannot 
fail  of  being  admired  by  all  who  shall  hear  of  it/' 


BONAVENTURE  BARO,  oe  BARON, 

IVas  of  that  numerous  class  of  men,  who  have  reflected 
great  honour  on  Ireland,  as  the  land  ot  their  nativity,  from 
the  excellence  of  their  conduct  and  the  splendour  of  their 
genius,  manifested  in  foreign  countries.  His  original 
name  was  Fitz*gerald,  being  descended  from  a  distin- 
guished family  that  settled  in  Ireland  soon  after  the  arrival 
of  the  English.  He  was  bom  at  Clonmell,  in  the  county 
ofTipperary.    He  had  the  happiness  to  have  his  early 


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30  BARO. 

«dacatioD  directed  by  the  care  of  bia  mother's  brotheri 
Lake  Waddingi  a  celebrated  Franciscan  friar,  who,  in  tbe 
seventeenth  century,  manifested  his  extraordinary  talents, 
and  extensive  information,  by  many  works  of  great  labour 
and  genius.  When  he  was  of  a  proper  age,  he  got  him 
admitted  into  the  Franciscan  order,  and  brought  him  to 
Rome,  where  he  placed  him,  in  order  to  complete  his  edu- 
cation, under  his  own  eye,  in  the  college  of  St.  Isidore. 
This  was  a  society  which  he  himself  had  founded  in  1625, 
for  the  instruction  of  Irish  students  in  tbe  liberal  arts,  di- 
vinity, and  particularly  controversies  on  the  doctrines  of 
religion,  from  which  the  mission  to  Englandi  Scotland, 
and  Ireland,  might  be  supplied.  Baron  grew  into  great 
repatation,  and  was  distinguished  by  tbe  purity  with 
which  he  wrote  the  Latin  language.  His  talents  were 
first  brought  into  notice  from  the  circumstance  of  a  car- 
dinal having  written  a  small  treatise  in  Italian,  which  he 
wished  to  get  translated  into  Latin.  Baron  undertook 
the  performance ;  but  his  excellency,  from  his  ignorance, 
being  dissatisfied,  it  was  referred  to  the  learned  society  of 
the  Jesuits,  who  expressed  themselves  highly  in  Baron's 
favour.  His  enthusiasm  for  imperial  Rome,  and  the  love 
of  the  religious  and  learned  society  he  found  there*  in- 
duced him  to  settle  in  that  city,  where  he  lived  ^together 
sixty  years,  during  part  of  which  time  he  lectured  on  divi- 
nity at  St.  Isidore's.  He  died  very  old  and  deprived  of 
sight,  in  March  l6th,  I696,  and  was  buried  in  the  church 
of  bis  own  college.  His  works  are,  1.  ^'  Orationes  Pane- 
gyrical Saoro-Profane  decern,"  Romas,  1643,  ISmo.  2. 
^  Metra  Miscellanea,  sive  Carminum  diversorum  libri 
duo;  Epigrammatum  unas;  alter  Silvul®;  quibus  addun- 
tur  £logia  illustrium  Virorum,"  Roms,  1645,  24mo.  3. 
'^  Prolusiones  Pbilosophicm,"  Romae,  1651,  12mo.  4. 
''  Harpocrates  quinque  Ludius ;  sen  Diatriba  silentii," 
RomsB,  1651,  12mo.  5.  '^  Obsidio  et  Expugnatio  Arcis 
Duncannon  in  Hiberni&,  sub  Thom&  Prestono."  6.^'  Boe- 
tius  Absolutus ;  sive  de  Consolatione  Theologiae,  lib.  iv." 


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BARRET.  SI 

RomflSy  1653,  l^mo.  7.  '*  Controversiae  et  Stratagemata,'' 
Lagdoni,  1636,  8vo.  8.  **  Scotus  Defensus/'  Coloni«| 
1662,  folio,  9.  '^  Cursus  Pbilosophicus/'  Colonic,  1664^ 
folio.  10.  **  Epistolffi  Familiares  Parseneticse,''  &c.  These 
are  among -.bis  11.  ^  Opuscula  varia  Herbipoli/'  1666, 
folio.  12.  *'  Thcologia/*  Paris,  1676,  6  vols.  13.  ''  Jo- 
hannes Dons  Scotns,  ordinis  minorum,  Doctor  subtilis  de 
Angelis  contra  adversantes  defensus,  nunc  quoqne  Novi- 
tate  amplificatns,"  FlorentisB,  1678.  14.  '^  Annales  Or- 
dinis  S.  S.  Trinitatis  Redemptionis  Captivorum,  Fondato- 
ribus  S.  S.  Johanne  de  Matha,  et  Felice  de  Valois,"  in  .  • 
vols,  folio.  The  first  volume  wad  printed  at  Rome,  in 
1686,  and  begins  with  the  year  1 198,  in  which  Pope  In* 
nocent  III.  gave  habit  to  the  founders,  and  is  carried 
down  to  the  year  1297,  just  one  hundred  years.  In  this 
volume  we  have  an  account  of  the  foundations  of  their 
convents,  their  privileges,  and  braeCactions,  the  eminent 
fathers  of  tbdr  order,  their  miracles  and  actions;  as  iJso, 
the  nnmber  of  slaves  delivered  by  them  from  bondage. 


GEORGE  BARRET, 
Am  eminent  landscape  painter,  was  born  in  that  part  of 
the  city  of  Dublin,  called  the  Liberty,  in  the  year  1728. 
He  was  a  self-taught  genius,  and,  like  his  countryman, 
the  celebrated  Hugh  Kelly,  was  apprenticed  to  a  stay- 
maker.  How  long  he  remained  in  this  situation  is  not 
known,  but  bis  first  attempt  in  art  was  in  the  humble  line 
of  print-colouring,  in  which  he  was  employed  by  one 
Silcock,  who  resided  then  in  Nicholas  street,  Dublin: 
from  this  trifling  commencement,  he  rose  to  considerable 
powers  as  a  landscape  painter,  and  at  a  very  early  period 
attended  the  drawing  academy  of  Mr.  West.  He  was  in- 
troduced by  his  protector,  Mr.  Burke,  to  the  patronage  of 
the  Earl  of  Powerscourt,  where  he  passed  the  greater  part 
of  bis  yonth  in  studying  and  designing  the  sublime  and 
beautiful  scenery  around  Powerscourt  park ;  and  about 


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Se  BARRET. 

this  time  a  premiain  being  offered  by  the  Dublin  society, 
for  the  best  landscape  in  oil,  Mr.  Barret  contended  for, 
and  obtained  it.  . 

In  the  year  ITOS,  be  arrived  in  London,  where  he  soon 
distinguished  himself,  and,  in  two  years  after  his  arrival, 
gained  the  fifty  pounds  premium  given  by  the  Society  for 
the  Encouragement  of  Arts,  &c«  &c  &c.  For  the  esta- 
blishment of  the  Royal  Academy,  the  public  mere,  in  a 
great  measure,  indebted  to  the  exertions  of  Mr,  Barret, 
who  formed  the  plan,  and  became  one  of  its  earliest 
members. 

.  He  was  a  chaste  and  faithful  delineator  of  English  land* 
scape,  which  he  viewed  with  the  eye  of  an  artist,  and 
selected  with  the  feelings  of  a  man  of  taste.  He  had  two 
decided  manners  of  painting,  both  with  regard  to  colour 
and  touch :  his  first  was  rather  heavy  in  both ;  his  latter, 
much  lighten  Scarcely  any  painter  equalled  him  in  his 
knowledge  or  characteristic  execution  of  the  details  of 
nature.  His  attention  was  chiefly  directed  to  the  true 
colour  of  English  scenery,  its  richness,  dewy  freshness, 
and  that  peculiar  verdure,  especially  in  the  vernal  months, 
which  is  so  totally  different  from  the  colouring  of  those 
masters  who  have  formed  themselves  on  Italian  scenery, 
or  Italian  pictures.  This  strong  desire  sometimes  tempted 
him  to  use  colours  both  rich  and  beautiful  when  first  ap« 
plied,  but  which  no  art  could  render  permanent,  and 
which,  in  some  of  his  slighter  works,  prevailed  to  such  a 
degree  as  to  leave  scarcely  any  traces  of  the  original  co- 
louring. This  resulted  from  the  inmioderate  use  of  glazing. 
The  best  pictures  of  this  inestimable  artist  are  to  be  found 
in  the  collections  of  the  Dukes  of  Buccleuch  and  Port- 
land, and  the  great  room  at  Mr.  Locke's,  Norbury  Park, 
Surrey,  consisting  of  a  large  room,  painted  with  a  conti- 
nued scene  entirely  round  it ;  a  perforn»ance  which  will 
ever  rank  among  the  most  celebrated  productions  of  the 
art.  The  idea,  in  general,  characterises  the  northern  part 
of  this  country;  and,  for  composition,  breadth  of  effect. 


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BARRETT.  33 

tnitb  of  colour,  and  boldneks  of  manDer,  in  the  execation, 
has  not  been  equalled  by  any  modem  painter.  He  exerted 
his  powers  to  the  utmost  in  this  work,  as  he  entertained 
the  warmest  sense  of  Mr.  Locke's  great  kindness  and 
friendly  patronage. 

As  a  man,  he  was  remarkably  kind  and  friendly,  and 
was  much  respected,  not  only  by  his  brethren  in  the  artf 
but  by  his  patrons,  who  were  pleased  with  the  vivacity  of 
his  disposition,  and  the  urbanity  of  his  manners.  During 
the  last  ten  years  of  his  life,  he  resided  (on  account  of  his 
health)  at  Paddington,  where  he  painted  (in  conjunction 
with  Mr.  Gilpin,  the  celebrated  animal  jpainter,)  some  of 
his  best  easel-pictures.  He  died  at  Paddington,  in  March 
17B4,  aged  fifty-four,  and  was  buried  in  the  church-yard 
of  that  parish.  He  left  a  widow  and  nine  children.  In 
the  latter  part  of  bis  life  he  enjoyed  the  place  of  master- 
painter  to  Chelsea  Hospital ;  an  appointment  conferred 
upon  him  by  bis  friend,  Edmund  Burke,  during  his  short* 
lived  administration.  Barret  left  some  spirited  etchings  of 
bis  performances,  the  best  of  which  is  a  view  in  the  Dar* 
gles,  near  Dublin.  He  also  painted  in  water-colours,  in 
which  he  greatly  excelled. 


Rev.  Db.  JAMES  BARRETT 
Was  titular  Dean  of  Killala,  and,  as  we  cannot  amend 
the  only  sketch  we  have  of  this  truly  great  and  good  man, 
we  shall  take  the  liberty  to  subjoin  it  i-^^*  He  was,"  says 
bis  panegyrist,  **  a  character  as  near  perfection  as  the  lot 
of  bamanity  admits  of.  For  upwards  of  half  a  century 
he  cooiinued  to  shew  to  the  world  what  a  clergyman  ought 
to  be,  and  how  much  real  good  a  hearty  lover  of  mankind 
may  do  in  that  station.  If  domestic  disquisition  annoyed 
any  of  bis  flock,  the  demon  was  subdued  by  the  precepts 
that  be  instilled,  and  the  morality  which  he  inculcated. 
The  writbings  of  disease  were  mifiga^  by  the  balm  of 
bia  divine  counsels,  and  poverty  never  applied  to  him  io 

VOL.  I.  D 


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34  BARRETT. 

yain.  Under  bis  protecting  influeDce,  youth  fouDd  an 
asjlum  from  Tice  and  wretchedness,  tod  was  trained  up  in 
the  paths  of  virtne  and  of  truth.  The  shivering  mendicant 
was  prepared  to  meet  the  severity  of  approaching  winter^ 
through  his  bounty  and  his  influence/' 

He  sunk  into  the  arms  of  death,  in  March  IdOB,  at  his 
bouse  in  Chapel  lane,  Ennis.  ''  Upon  his  decease  the 
shops  were  all  closed,  and  business  completely  at  a  stand 
in  Ennis ;  while  the  general  gloom  which  sat  on  every 
countenance,  more  forcibly  ponrtrayed  die  character  of 
departed  worth,  than  volumes  written  on  tbo^  subject  could 
possibly  convey.''  Dr.  Barrett  was  in  the  eighty-sixth 
year  of  his  age,  for  forty-six  years  of  which  he  was  the 
faithful  pastor  of  that  parish*  Some  people  imagined  that 
the  dean  was  possessed  of  money ;  but  those  who  thought 
so  did  not  follow  his  steps  into  the  mansions  of  misery 
and  distress ;  if  they  had,  their  coffers  would  be  like  his — > 
destitute  of  a  single  guinea,  and,  divine  reflection !— their 
reward,  like  his,  would  be — heaven ! 


Captain  JOHN  BARRETT 

Was  a  brave  yet  unsuccessful  seaman,  who,  to  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  his  profession,  united  an  enthusiastic  cou- 
rage, and  whose  whole  life  was  an  uninterrupted  tissue  of 
extraordinary  embarrassments,  terminated  by  a  calamity, 
borne  with  the  heroic  coolness  of  a  Spartan. 

He  was  a  native  of  the  city  of  Drogheda^  and  waa 
descended  from  a  respectable  family,  resident  during  seve- 
ral centuries  in  the  adjoining  county  of  Leuth.  At  a  very 
early  age  he  exhibited  a  strong  predilection  for  the  naval 
profession,  and  in  compliance  with  his  repeated  solicita- 
tions, he  was  placed  under  his  brave  countryman  Admiral 
Caldwell,  and  under  his  auspices  he  continued  until  his 
promotion  to  the  rttnk  of  lieutenant,  towards  the  close 
of  the  year  1793;  an  advance,  which  the  interest  of  his 
patron  greatly  forwarded,  who,  on  the  1st  of  February 


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BARRETT-  35 

1793,  Wis  hifliaelf  proaxited  to  the  i^nk  of  rear-admiral 
of  the  TThite,  and  was  stationed  as  junior  officer  in  the 
Channel  fleet,  under  Lord  Howe^  haring  hoisted  his  flag 
on  board  the  Cumberland,  of  seventy-fbnr  guns,  to  which 
ship  Lieutenant  Barrett  removed  with  him. 

lu  the  following  year  Admiral  Caldwell,  being  promoted 
to  the  rank  of  reaP4u]miral  of  the  red,  hoisted  his  flag 
on  board  the  Impregnable,  niae^^igfat  gnus,  whither 
Mr.  Barrett  again  accompanied  him,  and  00  bo^  which 
ship  he  served  io  the  memorable  battle  of  the  1st  of  June. 
On  the  appointment  of  Admiral  Caldwell  to  a  command 
in  the  West  Indies,  be  removed  with  the  admiral  on  board 
the  Majestic,  of  seven tyfour  guns,  and  on  the  ISth  of 
October,  sailed  to  join  Sir  John  Jervis,  (now  Earl  St.  Vin- 
cent) on  the  Leeward  island  station.  His  steady  attach- 
ment to  bis  patron,  and  his  active  services  on  this  station, 
were  rewarded  by  a  promotion  successively  to  the  ranks 
of  commander  and  post-captain,  within  a  short  time  of 
each  other. 

The  next  period  of  Captain  Barrett's  career  which  we 
are  to  notice,  will  exhibit  him  in  the  strange  and  unmerited 
condition  of  private  distress,  as  a  consequence  of  zeal  ia 
his  public  duty.  While  in  the  command,  we  believe,  of  the 
Ethalion,  he  (independently  of  some  captures,)  detained 
several  American  and  other  neutral  vessels,  under  a  clause 
of  our  treaty  with  the  former  power,  employed  in  a  con- 
traband  trade  with  the  enemy's  and  our  islands.     This 
circumstance  materially  contributed  to  a  series  of  pecu- 
niary embarrassments,  from  which  he  was  never  altogether 
relieved* 

Id  addition  to  this  unfortunate  occurrence,  he  was 
vnlacky  enough  to  become  acquainted  with  a  widow  in 
<me  of  the  adjacent  islands,  who  was  said  to  possess  a  con* 
aiderable  fortune,  and  who,  deceived  by  a  rumour  of  our 
hero's  successes,  favoured  his  advances : — 

**  She  was  jnst  at  the  age  when  beauty  beguis 
To  give  o'er  her  reign  of  deUgfat :"— - 


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36  BARRETT. 

And  she  was  apparently  rich,  but  not  without  some  pri- 
vate pecuniary  embarrassments. — A  marriage  however  took 
place,  and  (like  many  other  married  couples)  they  were 
mutually  deceived;  for,  previous  to  the  ceremony,  the 
lady  being  possessed  of  a  more  than  ordinary  share  of 
precaution,  settled  all  her  real  property  on  hersdf. — 
Scarcely  had  the  honey-moon,  that  most  delicious  period 
in  our  lives,  when  all  is  bright  and  fair,  elapsed,  when  a 
discovery  was  made,  and  a  bitter  digestion  of  its  sweets 
consequently  ensued.  The  addition  also  of  an  immense 
expense  for  demurrage,  by  some  informality  in  the  pro- 
ceedings relative  to  the  detained  vessels  which  were  cleared, 
now  overwhelmed  him  with  a  responsibility  considerably 
beyond  his  means.  He,  however,  had  not  yet  swallowed 
the  whole  of  the  potion  allotted  him,  the  remainder  of 
which  awaited  him  in  England,  where,  on  his  return,  he 
was  not  only  arrested  by  his  own  creditors,  but  by  those 
of  his  wife  also;  and  by  the  union  of  both  powers  he  speedily 
became  immured  in  a  prison,  where  he  long  remained,  and 
thus  was  excluded  from  all  active  service.  One  circum- 
stance, however,  not  greatly  to  be  regretted,  occurred— 
a  total  separation  from  his  wife; — and  thus  was  Captain 
Barrett's  matrimonial  bliss  brought  to  a  speedy  conclusion. 
In  1806,  being  released  from  his  confinement,  he  was  soon 
after  appointed  to  the  Africa  of  sixty-four  guns,  at  first 
stationed  in  the  Channel  fleet,  and  afterwards  in  the  Bal- 
tic, where  she  was  appointed  to  superintend  the  passage 
of  convoys  through  the  Sound,  under  the  immediate  orders 
of  Admiral  Sir  Thomas  Bertie. 

While  lying  in  the  Mahnuc  passage,  an  attack  was 
made  on  him  by  neariy  forty  Danish  gun-vessels,  and  other 
boats.  It  has  been  justly  observed,  that  a  line-of-battle 
ship  in  a  calm  is  like  a  giant  struck  with  a  dead  palsy. 
The  African,  completely  immoveable,  received  for  more 
than  an  hour  the  fire  of  two  divisions  stationed  a  head  and 
a-stem,  while  the  bulk  of  the  ship,  and  comparative  small- 
ness  of  the.  foe,  rendered  it  impossible  to  hit  them. — In 


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BARRETT.  37 

thk  sitaatioa  a  dreadful  slaughter  eatued  on  board;  a  shot 
bariDg  struck  the  hoisting  part  of  the  ensigo  halyard,  the 
coloors  came  slowlj  down.  The  Danes  perceiving  this, 
and  not  thinking  it  the  effect  of  their  fire,  believed  she  had 
stmcky  and  immediately  abandoned  their  advantageous 
position,  vying  with  each  other  for  the  honour  of  uking 
posseaaion.  This  circumstance  must  be  considered  as  one 
of  those  casual  events,  which  occurring  independent  of 
ourselves,  should  teach  us  never  to  relinquish  hope  even 
in  our  greatest  perplexities.  The  mistake  being  observed 
by  Captain  Barrett,  a  broadside  double-shotted  was  pre- 
pared, the  colours  re-hoisted,  and  ^^  the  whole**  (says  his 
biographer)  ^*  poured  in  with  so  happy  a  direction^  that  scoe* 
**  ral  of  the  boats^  and  near  four  hundred  men  perished.** 

The  Danes,  mistaking  that  for  treachery,  which  arose 
from  chance,  were  extremely  irritated,  and  violent  in  their 
threats  and  censures  against  Captain  Barrett;  and  this 
candid  relauon  of  the  circumstance  is  justly  due  to  his 
character,  to  clear  it  from  the  aspersions  with  which  it  has 
in  consequence  been  loaded.  This  action  lasted  nearly 
dgfat  hours ;  during  the  time,  a  shell  having  fallen  on  the 
lower  deck  of  the  Africa,  the  ship  was  saved  from  destruc- 
tion by  a  boy,  who,  with  great  coolness,  hove  it  out  of  the 
port  while  burning,  >ind  the  concussion  caused  by  its  ex- 
plosion in  the  water  violently  shook  the  vessel. 

In  the  year  1809,  Captain  Barrett  was  appointed  to  the 
Minotaur,  of  seventy-four  guns,  celebrated  for  the  beauty 
of  her  model,  and  stationed  in  the  Gulph  of  Finland.  la 
the  different  attacks  on  the  Russian  flotillas  at  Percola  and 
Aspro,  the  ship's  company  severely  suffered.  On  this  sta^ 
tion  the  services  of  die  Minotaur  were  highly  creditable 
to  the  captain  and  his  company,  and  under  her  protection 
the  last  convoy  of  1809  arrived. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year.  18 10,  the  Minotaur  sailed  again 
fat  the  Baltic,  aad  was  principally  employed  in  escorting 
the  different  convoys  from  Hamio  to  Deershead.    At  the 


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38  BARRETT. 

dose  of  the  leason  she  again  took  charge  of  the  homeward* 
bound  convoy,  (the  Pkntagenet,  seveotj-four.  Captain 
Ellis,  escorting  the  rear,)  a  charge  destined  to  be  her  final 
aet  of  service,  and  in  which  she  was  most  lamentably  to 
fall  bj  shipwreck*  The  evening  before  she  suack,  the 
Flantagenet  telegraphed  to  her,  and  hauled  to  the  west- 
ward ;  but  the  master  and  pilots  of  the  Minotaur,  too  con- 
fident of  their  reckoning,  unfortunately  stood  on.  At  nine 
o'clock  that  night  she  struck  on  the  Hakes  so  violently, 
that  it  was  with  great  difiiculty  the  midshipmen  and  quar- 
ter-masters gained  the  deck.  The  scene  of  horror  that  now 
presented  itself  can  only  be  conceived  by  those  who  wit- 
nessed it. 

The  ship's  company,  almost  naked,  were  sheltered  from 
the  severe  cold  and  heavy  sea  by  the  poop,  and  the  great- 
est exertions  were  made  to  get  out  the  boats,  the  quarter 
ones  having  been  stove  and  washed  away.  By  cutting 
down  the  gunnel  the  launch  was  got  ofi*  ^e  booms,  into 
which  one  hundred  and  ten  men  crowded;  at  this  time  the 
appearance  of  the  ship,  nearly  covered  by  the  sea,  and 
having  only  the  main«-mast  standing,  was  truly  pitiable. 
The  launch,  with,  great  difficulty  reached  the  shore. — The 
yawl  was  next  got  out,  but  immediately  sunk,  from  the 
numbers  thatrcrowded  into  her,  with  the  natural  desire  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  smallest  chance  of  escapmg  from  a 
state  of  ineviuble  destruction. 

Thus  cut  off  firoa  all  prospect  of  escape,  the  only  desire 
apparent  in  those  ihrho  remained  was,  to  dothe  themsetves 
IB  their  best  suiu.  The  captain  of  mannes  and  surgeon 
had  themselves  lashed  in  a  cot  that  hung  in  the  cabin,  and 
two  of  the  officers  Mlovred  their  example  with  the  utmoat 
composure. 

At  length  came  the  awful  stiDke^and  the  sea  washing 
thn>ugh  the  belfry,  tolled  the  funeral  knelt  The  captain 
of  the  main-top,  who  was  saved  on  the  main-mast,  said, 
be  saw  Captain  Barrett  to  the  last  exhorting  the  men  to 


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BARRETT.  S9 

|Mtfitac»;  be  was  sUndtng  on  the  poop,  surrounded  by 
them,  when  a  dreadful  sea  destroyed  every  remnant  of  the 
ship,  and  dosed  h\»  meritorions  and  useful  life. 

Throagb  the  whole  of  this  melancholy  scene^  the  oon« 
duct  of  Captain  Barrett  did  honour  to  his  station.  From 
the  eommencement  to  its  fatal  termination,  be  eriaced  the 
most  heroic  coolness ;  during  which  time  no  possibility  of 
saving  the  ship  bad  ever  existed.  The  pilots  seem  to  have 
been  deficient  in  knowledge  of  the  ship's  track,  for  they 
opposed  the  warning  of  the  Plantagenet,  and  differed,  after 
the  skip  stmck,  in  opinion,  whether  she  was  on  the  Smith'« 
Knowl  or  the  Hakes ;  Captain  Barrett  decided  for  the  latter, 
tad  the  ensuing  dawn,  by  a  distant  view  of  land,  confirmed 
it.  In  the  course  of  this  dreadful  night,  an  officer,  in  the 
tageroess  of  exertion,  occasioned  some  disturbance;  Cap- 
tain Barrett  said  to  him,  **'  Sir,  true  courage  is  better  shewn 
by  coolness  and  composure — we  all  owe  nature  a  debt — 
let  us  pay  it  like  men  of  honour.*'    • 

The  fate  of  Lieutenant  Salsford  was  distinguished  by  a 
•ingnlar  circumstance,  which  we  cannot  forbear  record- 
ing >^A  large  tame  wolf,  caught  at  Aspro,  and  brought 
np  from  a  cab  by  the  ship's  company,  and  exceedingly 
docile,  continued  to  the  last  an  object  of  general  3olicitude. 
Sensible  of  its  danger,  its  howls  were  peculiarly  distress- 
ing. He  had  always  been  a  particular  favorite  of  the 
lientenant,  who  was  also  greatly  attached  to  the  animal, 
and  through  the  whole  of  their  Ibufferings  he  kept  close  to 
his  master.  Oo  the  bieakiag  up  of  the  ship,  both  got  upon 
the  noaat.^^^At  times  they  were  washed  off,  but  by  each 
other's  assistance  regained  it.-^The  lieutenant  at  last,  be- 
caose  exhausted  by  oondnnal  exertion,  and  benumbed  witb 
cold.-— 'The  wolf  was  equally  fatigued,  aud  both  held  occa^ 
sionallj  by  the  other  to  retain  his  situation.  When  within 
a  short  distance  of  the  laud,  Lieutenant  Saltford  affected  by 
the  attachment  of  the  animal,  and  tociJly  unable  any  longer 
to  snpport  himself,  turned  towards  him  from  the  mast;  the 
beast  clapped  his  fore-paws  round  bis  neck,  while  the 


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40  BARRY. 

lieuteiiaDt  clasped  bim  in  bis  arms,  and  they  sunk  to- 
getber. 

*  Sacb  was  tbe  end  of  Captain  Barrett,  and  his  brave  but 
unfortunate  sbip's  company.  Tbe  bero  wbo  fialls  in  tbe 
arms  of  yictoryi  bas  a  monument  raised  by  tbe  gratitude 
of  bis  country;  but  be,  wbose  destiny  bas  been  a  watery 
grav6|  overcome  by  tbe  irresistible  power  of  tbe  elements, 
sinks  lamented  at  tbe  instant,  and  bencefortb  is  forgotten. 
To  rescue  f/om  tbis  unmerited  oblivion  tbe  name  and 
character  of  Captain  Barrett,  bas  been  our  object  in  tbe 
publication  of  these  brief  memoirs;  and  let  it  be  remem- 
bered in  tbe  perusal  of  them,  that  altbougb  tbe  actions 
they  record  are  neither  splendid  or  brilUani^  opportunities 
alone  were  wanting  to  have  made  them  so;  and  that  if  in 
tbe  battle  courage  is  indisputable,  yet  in  all  probability 
the  truest  touch-stone  of  bravery  is — the  storm. 


DAVID  FITZ-JAMES  BARRY, 
Viscount  Buttevant,  was  one  of  the  Lords  of  tbe  Parlia* 
ment,  convened  by  Sir  James  Perrott,  in  1585;  but  afters- 
wards  took  an  active  share  in  tbe  rebellion  of  the  Earl  of 
Desmond,  for  which  he  received  a  pardon  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Lord  Grey.  From  that  time  bis  fidelity  to  tbe 
crown  was  untainted,  and  he  was  appointed  one  of  tbe 
council  to  Sir  George  Carew,  president  of  Munster ;  in 
which  capacity  be  did  great  service  against  the  rebels  in 
that  province,  as  may  be  seen  by  bis  answer  to  Tyrone's 
letter  of  invitation  to  join  bim,  and  of  which  a  full  account 
is  given  in  the  Pacau  Hibernia.  In  1601,  be  was  made 
general  of  the  provincials,  and  assisted  in  raising  the  siege 
of  Kinsale;  and,  after  the  defeat  of  tbe  Spaniards,  his 
lordship,  at  tbe  bead  of  his  forces,  attacked  OGuillevan, 
and  routed  him  with  great  loss ;  whicb,  with  some  pru- 
dent measures  employed  at  tbe  same  time,  reduced  the 
insurgenu  to  complete  submission.  In  16  IS,  tbe  king, 
intending  to  hold  a  parliament  in  Dublin,  and  understand- 


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BARRY.  41 

iDg  that  there  might  arise  some  debate^  whether  his  lord** 
ship  ought  to  have  a  seat  in  the  upper  house^  his  elder 
brother,  to  whom  it  was  alleged  that  right  belonged,  being 
still  alite;  his  majesty,  to  prevent  the  delay  such  debate 
might  occasion,  declared  that  '''  in  regard  the  Lord  Barry 
bath  been  always  hoDOurably  reported  of,  for  his  dadful 
behatioor  to  our  state,  and  hath  enjoyed,  without  contra- 
dicuon,  these  many  years  the  title  of  honour  and  living  of 
bis  house ;  and  that  his  brother,  who  is  said  to  be  elder, ' 
is  both  dumb  and  deaf,  and  was  never  yet  in  possession  of 
the  honour  or  living  of  his  house ;  we  are  pleased  to  com- 
mand you,  if  this  question,  concerning  his  right  to  sit  in 
parliament,  be  stirred  by  any  person,  that  you  silence  it 
by  our  command ;  and  that  yon  do  admit  him,  according 
to  his  degree,  to  have  voice  and  place  in  parliament,  not 
taking  knowledge  of , any  doubt,  which  may  be  moved  of 
bis  legal  right  thereunto."  He  was  according  present  in 
that  parliament;  and  died  April  10,  lOl?,  at  Barry's 
court. 


DAVID  BARRY, 

The  first  Earl  of  Barry mQre,  was  the  grandson  of  the 
subject  of  the  last  article,  and  was  born  in  1605.  On  bis 
grandfathers  decease,  he  succeeded  to  bis  estates,  and  in 
the  following  year  a  special  livery  of  all  his  possessions 
was  granted,  notwithstanding  his  minority.  In  \69i7j  the 
king,  to  reward  his  fidelity  and  attachment  to  the  pro- 
testant  interest^  created  him  Earl  of  Barrymore*  He  served 
against  the  Scots  in  1630;  and,  in  1641,  when  the  insur- 
gents offered  to  make  him  their  general,  he  rejected  the 
l^oposal  with  the  utmost  disdain:— ''  I  will  first  take  an 
offer,"  said  he,  **  from  my  brother  Dungarvan,  to  be  hang- 
man^eneral  at  Youghall."  Incensed  at  this,  the  insur- 
gents threatened  to  destroy  his  house  at  Castle  Lyons,  on 
which  be  sent  them  word,  that  ''  he  would  defend  it  while 
one  stone  stood  upon  another;"  at  the  same  time  desiring 


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49  BARRY. 

tbfol  16  trouble  him  na  more  with  their  offsrs,  for  that  he 
was  resolved  to  live  and  die  a  faithful  subject  of  the  Eng» 
lish  orowo.  He  afterwards  placed  a  body  of  Englishmen 
in  his  castle  of  Shandos,  near  Cork^  for  which  service  he 
received  the  thanks  of  the  government;  and,  by  his  care 
and  courage,  in  conjunction  with  JBdmund  Fitzgerald, 
senescfaal  of  Imokilty,  he  preserved  that  part  of  the  coun* 
try  free  from  the  incursions  of  the  rebels,  and  thus  ensured 
the  passage  between  Cork  and  Youghall.  In  1648|  his 
lordship,  with  Lord  Dungarvan,  pursued  the  Cordons, 
and  took  the  castle  of  Ballymac-Patrick  (now  Carey^s 
villa),  the  whole  of  the  survivors  of  the  garrison  being  exe- 
cuted on  the  spot.  In  July  be  took  Cloghlea  castle,  near 
Kilwortb;  and  was  joined,  in  commission  with  Lord  In- 
cbiquin,  to  the  civil  government  of  Munster.  He  headed 
a  troop  of  horse,  and  tw,o  hundred  foot,  which  he  main- 
tained  at  his  own  charge,  at  the  battle  of  Liscarroll,  on 
September  3,  1649;  and  died  on  the  e9th  of  that  month. 
He  was  interred  in  the  Earl  of  Cork's  tomb  at  Youghall, 
and  left  behind  him  the  character  of  great  generosity, 
humanity  (notwithstanding  his  bloody  slaughter  at  Bally- 
mac-Patrick,)  and  christian  charity;  and  we  are  particu- 
larly informed  that  he  had  sermons  at  Castle  Lyons  twice 
a  day  on  Sundays,  Wednesdays,  and  Fridays. 


JAMES  BARRY, 

Aftbrwards  created  Lord  Santry,  was  the  son  of  a 
merchant  of  Dublin.  He  was  educated  for  the  bar,  and 
bjr  his  diligence  and  eminent  talents,  raised  himself  to 
high  offices  of  trust  under  government,  and  to  a  seat  in  the 
upper  bouse  of  Parliament.  The  family  was  originally 
from  Pembrokeshire,  in  Wales,  descended  from  the  princes 
of  the  country.  Several  of  them  passed  over  into  Ireland, 
Rnumg  the  first  adventurers,  in  1169;  one  of  these  was 
Robert  de  Barry,  so  highly  eelebrated  by  Grerald  Barry, 
comaKmly  called  Oeraldns  Cambrensis.    The  father  of 


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BARRY.  45 

Janes  Bany,  whpse  life  we  now  write,  aequirtd  a  0K>a«if- 
derable  estate  by  oemmerce ;  and  filled  the  civic  honours 
of  the  city  of  Dablin,  which  be  also  represented  in  Parliat 
sent.  The  son,  after  be  was  called  to  the  bar,  practised 
for  sereral  years  with  reputation  and  success;  In  l6^ 
the  king  conferred  upon  him  the  office  of  his  majesty's 
seffjeaiit^t4aw  for  the  kingdom  of  Ireland,  with  a  yearly 
he  of  twenty  poinds  ten  shillings*  Lord  Wentwortb, 
afterwards  Earl  qf  Strafford,  lord  deputy  of  Ireland,  soon 
perceived  bis  talents,  and  took  him  under  his  protection  ( 
accordingly,  Aug.  5,  1634,  be  appointed  him  second  baron 
of  the  exchequer  of  Ireland,  to  hold  during  pleasure,  with 
such  fees,  rewards,  and  profits,  as  Sir  Robert  Oglethorpe, 
Sir  Lawrence  Parsons,  or  Sir  Gerard  Lowther,  or  any 
ether  second  baroo,  did  or  ought  to  receive.  He  soon 
after  had  the  honour  of  knighthood  conferred  on  him* 
This  appointment  in  the  exchequer  he  obtained  through 
Jjord  Weotwortb's  friendship,  in  opposition  to  another 
candidate  who  had  powerful  recommendation  from  £og«- 
hod.  Of  this  kindness  he  was  ever  after  grateful ;  and, 
ia  1640,  when  the  Parliament  of  Ireland  were  about  to 
send  over  a  deputation  of  their  body  to  England  to  Im- 
peach the  Earl  of  Strafford,  he  joined  all  his  weight  and 
interest  with  Sir  James  Ware,  and  other  members  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  to  oppose  that  measure.  The  tor* 
rent  was  too  violent  to  be  withstood;  and  we  hear  little 
ame  of  Sir  Jaaies  Barry,  during  the  civil  wars,  until  a 
little  before  the  restoration  of  King  Charles  II.  ia  1660, 
when  he  was  chairman  of  the  convention  whkb  voted  ^is 
majetQr's  restoration,  without  any  previous  cooditionsr 
In  obtaining  this  vote,  his  influence  and  talents  wens 
iastnimaital ;  and  accordingly  we  find  him  experieuoiag 
the  gntitude  of  his  soveieigp,  by  being  «iade  lord  obitf 
JQStioa  of  the  King's  Bencb  of  Ireland,  the  l7th  November 
of  the  aaaae  year.  Nor  was  this  the  ooljr  hooour  bestowed 
mt  htm ;  for,  on  the  18th  of  December  foUowingi  the  king 
issaed  a  privy  seal,  in  ooaaideration  of  his  epEUoent  fidalif  j 


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44  BARRY. 

and  zeal  shewn  for  bis  majesty's  serrice,  creating  him 
Lord  Baron  of  Santry  of  the  Kiogdom  of  Ireland ;  and 
be  was  soon  after  called  to  the  privy  council. 

He  died  in  March  1672,  and  was  buried  in  Christ 
Churchy  Dublin.  He  left  behind  him  issue  to  inherit  his 
titles  and  estate.  His  only  publication  was,  **  The  Case  of 
Tenures  upon  the  Commission  of  Defective  Titles,  argued 
by  all  the  Judges  of  Ireland;  with  the  Resolution,  and  the 
Reasons  of  their  Resolution."  Dublin,  1637,  folio,  dedi- 
cated to  the  Earl  of  Strafford* 


SPRANGER  BARRY. 

Xhis  celebrated  actor,  who  so  equally  divided  the  laurel 
with  the  immortal  Garrick,  was  born  on  the  20th  Novem- 
ber, 17)99  in  the  parish  of  St.  Warburgh,  Dublin.  He 
was  the  son  of  an  eminent  silversmith  of  that,  city,  pros- 
perous in  trade,  and  possessing  good  family  connections^ 
who  bred  this  his  eldest  son  to  the  business ;  but  an  early 
intercourse  with  the  theatres  (of  which  there  were  two  at 
that  period  in  Dublin)  with  the  solicitation  of  a  remark- 
ably handsome  and  finely-proportioned  person,  melodious 
and  powerful  voice,  and  pleasing  address,  quickly  oblite- 
rated every  idea  relative  to  business,  which  the  attendance 
behind  the  counter  between  two  and  three  years,  might 
have  enabled  him  to  acquire,  and  he  commeniced  actor  in. 
the  year  1744,  making  his  first  appearance  in  the  arduous 
character  of  Othello. 

It  has  been  observed,  with  some  truth,  that  most  first 
appearances  discover  more  of  inclination  than  real  genius. 
The  case  was,  however,  different  with  Mr.  Barry,  for  he, 
like  our  celebrated  Roscius,  nearly  gained  the  summit  of 
perfection  at  his  outset,  and  (if  we  credit  the  accounts  of 
some  of  the  best  theatrical  judges  of  that  day)  gave  evi- 
dent marks  that  he  required  nothing  but.  stage  practice  to 
place  him  at  the  head  of  his  profession.  The  summer  of 
1744  be  played  in  Cork,  and  acquired  fresh  fame;  and  here  * 


\ 


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BARRY.  45 

it  was  first  suggested  to  him^  by  his  chief  patron.  Dr. 
.(afterwards  Sir)  Edward  Barry,  to  visit  England,  as  the  soil 
most  congenial  to  great  abilities  and  superior  talent. 
However,  prior  to  his  making  this  attempt,  he  returned  to 
Dublin,  and  joined  the  company  of  that  year,  which  stands 
remarkable  in  the  annals  of  Irish  theatricals,  for  the  finest 
collection  of  excellence  that  ever  was  known  at  any  one 
period.  Oar  readers  will  best  judge  of  this  themselves, 
when  they  are  informed,  that  the  imperishable  names  of 
Garrick,  Barry,  Sheridan,  Quin,  Woffington,  and  Gibber, 
stood  first  upon  the  list;  and  that  there  was  scarce  a  play 
that  these  performers  did  not  change  parts,  in  a  praise-wor- 
thy contention  for  rival  powers.  The  public,  it  is  to  be 
regretted,  paid  a  dear  price  for  this  mental  luxury,  as  the 
constant  and  excessive  fulness  of  the  house  brought  on 
innumerable  colds  and  fevers,  besides  dislocations  and 
other  odd  kind  of  accidents  in  abundance,  which,  termi- 
nating in  the  deaths  of  many  individuals,  the  saying  be* 

came  common,  that  Miss died  of  a  Quin  fever,  but 

Mr, of  a  Barry  fever. 

In  1746,  Mr.  Barry  arrived  in  England,  and  was  en- 
gaged at  Drury  Lane,  and,  the  next  year  the  patent  falling 
into  the  hands  of  Messrs.  Garrick  and  Lacy,  Mr.  Barry 
took  the  lead  as  the  principal  performer  of  that  house, 
and  here  it  was  that  Mr.  Garrick  and  he  frequently  ap- 
peared in  the  same  characters,  and  divided  the  applause  of 
admiring  audiences ;  however,  Barry,  after  a  short  period, 
feeling  an  inferiority  arising  from  the  joint  power  exerted 
against  him  as  actor  and  manager,  quitted  Drury  Lane, 
and  headed  the  forces  of  Covent  Garden.  Here  his  gigan- 
tic powers  had  full  play,  and  here  he  entered  the  lists  of 
competition  against  a  man,  who,  till  now,  had  thrown  all 
hb  competitors  at  an  immeasurable  distance.  They  played 
all  their  principal  characters  against  each  other  with 
various  success,  Garrick  being  allowed  to  be  the  best 
Richard,  and  Barry  the  finest  OtUello ;  and  remained 
opposing  each  other  till  the  summer  of  1758,  when  Barry, 


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46  BARRY. 

in  conjunction  with  Woodward  of  CoTent  Oardett,  under- 
took a  journey  to  the  sister  kingdom,  where  they  built  two 
elegant  and  commodious  theatres,  one  in  Crow  street, 
Dublin,  and  the  other  in  Cork  ;  and,  as  joint  managers, 
exerted  their  respective  abilities,  assisted  by  a  very  re- 
spectable company, '  part  of  which  they  brought  with 
them  from  England*  Unfortunately,  however,  after  giving 
their  scheme  a  fair  trial  for  some  years,  on  account  of  the 
expenses  of  the  building,  the  great  salaries,  the  increase 
of  performers,  and  the  uncertainty  of  their  nightly  re- 
ceipts, they  both  found,  that  far  from  benefiting  them- 
selves by  tht  exchange,  they  had  altered  their  situations 
lamentably  for  the  worse.  Woodward  was  the  first  to 
diacover  the  error  into  which  they  had  fallen ;  and  he  im- 
mediately made  the  best  bargain  he  could  with  Barry,  to 
be  paid  bis  share  in  annuities,  and,  bidding  adieu  to  Ire- 
land, rejoined  the  corps  from  which  he  had  deserted;  and 
in  a  very  laughable  prologue  (which  is  still  well  remem- 
bered, and  is  to  be  found  in  print,)  restored  himself  once 
more  to  the  favour  of  the  public. 

Barry  staid  but  a  few  seasons  behind  him,  for,  in  1766, 
both  he  and  Mrs.  Barry  played  at  the  Opera  House  in  the 
Haymarket,  under  Mr.  Foot's  management.  Here  it  was 
Mrs.  Barry*  made  her  first  appearance  before  a  London 

*  This  lady,  whose  maiden  name  was  Street,  was  a  native  of  Batli, 
and  tiie  danghter  of  an  eminent  apothecary  in  that  city,  who,  unwisely 
preferring  temporary  gratification  to  the  future  prospects  of  his  family, 
gave  into  all  the  extravagant  expenses  of  that  foshionable  place ;  so  that, 
although  his  practice  was  extensive,  it  was  always  balanced  by  his  expen- 
diture. Mrs.  Barry,  from  her  childhood,  amidst  several  promising  quali* 
ficatioDS,  expressed  a  warm  and  decided  preference  for  theatrical  amuse- 
ments ;  which,  joined  to  a  figure  pleasingly  feminine,  great  sweetness  of 
temper,  and  the  fashionable  station  she  fiUed,made  her,  as  she  grew  up,  an 
object  of  general  attachment  When  she  was  arrived  at  the  age  of  seven- 
teen, she  was  particularly  noticed  by  a  young  genUeman  of  large  fortune, 
and  the  brother  of  a  noUe  lord,  who  was  then  resident  at  Bath.  Fn»i 
seeing  her  casually  in  the  Rooms,  he  was  struck  with  her  nuumeis,  dee* 
and  he  contrived  to  drink  tea  with  her  at  a  third  person's  house.  Here 
her  conversation  established  what  her  charms  had  begun ;  and,  after  a  few 
vbits  to  the  house,  he  formally  asked  permission  of  the  fkther  to  becoiM 


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BARRY.  47 

BMJience.  The  character  she  chose  was  Desdemona,  in 
which,  though  there  is  little  for  a  performer  to  shew  forth 
in,  yet  in  this  she  shewed  such  judgment,  tenderness,  and 

hit  soD-iii-faiw.  So  adrantageoiiB  an  offer  was  readily  omtoMied  by  wSk 
parties  t  the  parent  was  flattered  with  tbe  idea  of  noble  conaections ;  and 
the  daughter  with  being  blessed  with  the  object  of  her  affections.  Whilst 
things  were  in  this  train  of  mataration,  an  nnexpeeted  letter  artitred^ 
iafonniag  the  lover  of  the  death  of  an  ancle  in  Town,  which  required  hb 
iauaediate  attendance.  He  obeyed  unwillingly  (of  coarse),  after  having 
pledged  ins  adoration  for  his  instant  retain;  bat  the  pemidoas  air  of 
Uodoo  (Uke  the  hanan  tonch  to  the  sensitiTe  leaf)  soon  diss^ntfed  his 
▼owsy  and  banished  for  ever  from  his  memory  all  his  protestatieas ;  wfalltt 
tke  amiabie  object  of  them,  after  waiting  two  monUis,  in  expectation  of 
hearing  from  him,  had  nothing  bat  sighs,  tears,  and  painfol  recollections 
to  comfort  her.  The  chagrin  she  was  thrown  into  on  the  ill-fiUed  tennl- 
nation  of  this  love  adyentare,  so  visibly  impaired  her  health,  that  it  was 
thnoiiht  advisable,  by  her  physicians,  to  go  into  the  coontry.  A  near  rela- 
tioBi,  in  YorksUre,  made  an  offer  of  his  hovse,  which  was  accepted ;  and, 
as  individnals  sometimes  rise  frtmi  ode  extreme  to  another,  she  entered  at 
first  vrith  fictitioas  gaiety  mto  every  species  of  amasement,  till,  by  degrees, 
sbo  caaght  the  sprigbtlinem  of  the  place,  and  perfectiy  recovered  her 
asnal  flow  of  spirits.  Amongst  the  amusements  of  the  coanty,  the  Yoit- 
•hire  pbyhoose,  which  was  only  distant  a  few  miles  from  where  she 
resided,  was  not  of  coarse  overlooked.  There  it  was  she  tint  beheld  Mr. 
Dancer,  and  married  him  shortly  after  at  Batii ;  but,  as  her  relations  woold 
aotsaier  her  to  iadirige  her  theatrical  passion  in  that  city,  she  went,  in 
fte  samiMr  season,  to  Portsraon^  The  ibllowfaig  winter  they  went  to 
YoriL,  where  they  solicited  an  engagement,  aad  obtained  it ;  and  she  be« 
came  Urn  favoorite  actress  there  until  Sept.  17S8,  when  they  tamed  ^beir 
thooghti  towards  Ireland.  Messrs.  Barry  and  Woodward  having  opened 
Crow  street  theatre,  they  readily  got  engagements  on  genteel  saktfies. 
Mrs.  Daneer  bad  played  in  York  before  several  genteel  audiences,  and 
it  was  then  thoaght  by  the  best  provincial  judges,  that  she  would  one 
day  beeone  a  great  acipiisition  to  the  stage.  Her  first  appearance  in 
DnUin  confirmed  this  opinion;  and  she  every  night  proved  she  was  fai 
want  ofnnthiag  bat  experience*  There  was  a  dancer  on  tiie  Doblln  stage, 
irho,fit»m  the  inthnacy  he  had  with  our  heroine  and  her  husband,  pro* 
pesed  taking  an  excursion  bito  the  comtiy  with  tiiie  former  aad  another 
hidy  for  a  few  days,  to  which  the  hasband  consanted.  She  bad  beenaway 
hat  the  second  day^  when  it  was  hinted  to  the  husband  by  some  malidoas 
person,  that  tbey  went  off  together ;  and  he,  believing  it,  instantly  pursued 
thsm,  and  at  a  little  viUage,  about  twenty  miles  from  town,  got  intelligence 
Ihrt  they  were  at  the  principal  inn.  Hera  he  lost  sight  of  his  prudence, 
aad,  rashing  intD  the  house  like  a  madman,  demanded  his  wife;  who,  with 
the  other  bMly^and  gentleman,  were  drinking  tea  bi  the  dhdng-room;  and| 


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48  BARRY. 

expression,  that  Garrick,  who  was  then  in  the  pit,  de- 
clared her  an  actress  gifted  with  superior  talent;  and,  as 
a  proof  that  he^was  serious  in  his  assertion,  he  very  soon 

alaniied  at  his  threats,  threw  herself  for  protection  on  the  gentleman,  who 
inpradently  locked  her  np  with  himself  in  a  bed-chamber  adjoining.  The 
husband  availed  the  door,  and  threatened  destruction  to  the  parties ; 
whilst  the  other  as  resolntdy  defended  the  pass.  However,  the  door  was 
at  length  broke  open ;  bnt,  whetiier  from  beholding  tiie  partner  of  his 
heart  in  distress,  or  the  fears  of  receiving  the  contents  of  a  pistol  which  his 
antagonist  held  in  opposition  to  his,  he  peaceably  conducted  her  out  of  the 
room,  placed  her  in  a  post-chaise,  and  drove  to  town.  This  anecdote 
(with  a  little  embellishment)  fed,  for  a  while,  half  the  Dublin  tea-tables 
with  scandaL  All  the  caricature  painters  were  at  work ;  and  every  news- 
paper and  magazine  produced  a  fresh  pun  or  epigram.  On  the  night 
after  her  arrival  in  Dublin  she  played  Sylvia,  in  the  Recruiting  Officer; 
where  Melissa's  salutation  to  her,  on  her  first  appearance,  Is  *<  Welcome 
to  town,  cousin  Sylvia  f  the  house  instantiy  caught  the  aptness  of  the 
allusion,  and  bestowed  on  it  the  applause  usually  given  on  those  occasions. 
Soon  after  this  event  her  husband  died,  and  left  her  hi  the  possession  of 
every  thing  but  money :  she  had  youth,  beauty,  and  great  theatrical  talent. 
Nor  were  the  gallant  world  insensible  of  them,  as  she  had  many  suitors  in 
her  train ;  all  of  whom  she  rejected,  for  the  Irish  Roscius  (Mr.  Barry)  had 
secured  her  heart;  and,  like  a  second  Stella,  she  drank  tiie  delicious 
poison  of  love  by  the  vehicle  of  tuition.  From  this  period  we  find  her 
rising  to  the  very  top  of  her  profession.  Her  alliance  to  the  manager 
secured  her  all  the  firstprate  parts ;  and  she  likewise  received  so  much 
Uistmction  from  him  in  private  rehearsals,  that,  in  a  short  time,  she  added 
all  his  fire  to  her  own  softness.  In  1766  Mr.  Barry,  finding  the  Irish  theatres 
not  answer  his  expectations,  rented  them  on  advantageous  terms  to 
Mr.Mossop;  and,  with  Mrs.  Barry,  arrived  in  London,  where  (as  has  been 
stated)  she  made  her  d^but  in  Desdemona,  and  afterwards  performed  the 
parts  of  Belvidera,  RutUnd,  and  Monunia,  in  tragedy ;  and  Lady  Townley, 
Beatrice,  and  Rosalind,  in  comedy.  Her  first  appearance,  after  Mr. 
Barry's  deadi,  was  in  Lady  Randolph,  when  she  spoke  an  occasional 
address,  said  to  be  written  by  Mr.  Garrick ;  she  likewise  continued  to 
maintain  her  former  pre-eminence;  and  was  supposed  to  have  accumu- 
lated such  a  fortune  as  might  have  rendered  her  independent ;  but  her 
improvident  marriage  with  Mr.  Crawford  quickly  dissipated  her  former 
savings.  She  performed  soon  after  this  event  in  Dublin ;  but  frequently 
with  such  indifierence,  that  she  could  only  be  said  to  have  walked  through 
her  characters. 

Her  husband,  in  virtue  of  his  conjugal  office,  became  also  acting  pro* 
prietor  and  manager,  not  only  of  the  lady  but  of  the  theatre,  which  last 
did  not  thrive  under  his  auspices.  His  ewU  Utt  was  constantly  in  arrear; 
hit  wdmttn,  from  the  first^rates  down  to  the  scene-shifters,  murmnred  for 


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BARRY.  49 

tfter  engaged  Mr.  Barry  and  herself  at  a  very  considerable 
salary,  and  by  that  act  he  shewed  his  wisdom  and  judg* 
menty  for  she  afterwards  ful^led  his  prediction  to  the  very 

kck  of  nlariea;  his  purveyors  ont  of  doors  relinqoished  their  contracts 
sod  withheld  soppties.  Ritrenchmeni  became  the  order  of  the  day,  and 
pervaded  all  departmeDts ;  and,  to  oiend  matters,  he  struck  out  a  system 
of  cecoDomicks,  in  the  banqnetting  scenes,  never  before  heard  of  in  the 
smals  of  mtek/eiiivUff.  The  stage-sappers  were  supplied,  not  by  the  cook 
and  wbttmerekaU,  hot  tiie  propertif'tHan ;  ihe  viands  were  composed  of 
iMer  and  pofc^Mrd  painted  in  character;  and  smmU  Assr^and  imeiund 
waUr  sobstitDted  the  cheering  jnice  of  the  grape.  The  mnsicians  deserted 
the  orchestra;  and,  in  short,  the  whole  system  of  food  and  payment  were 
rapidly  hastening  to  a  state  of  as  **  wnreal  mkken/*  as  any  of  the  fiibles  of 
the  tragic  mose.. 

In  this  state  of  thbigs  an  Opera  was  announced;  the  entertabimentB  to 
conclude  with  the  farce  of  «  High  Life  below  Statn."  The  hannonies  of 
the  first  were  entirely  V9cak  for  the  fiddlere  and  other  mmjKtreU  refused  to 
be  imttrwmad^  to  the  entertahiment  of  the  night  In  the/orce,  the  m^ptr 
iceme  was  supplied  from  the  pim^  of  the  property'mm ;  and  all  the  wines  of 
Pkiiip  the  butler, «  from  humble  Port  to  imperial  Tokay,"  were  drawn 
from  the  pmi^  or  tbe  bur-ciaik.  My  Lord  Duke  complained  to  Sir  Harry, 
that  tbe  ^tamp^ne  and  hurgjMdy  tasted  confoundedly  Mtnmg  of  the  waUr; 
and  the  Baronet,  in  turn,  deplored  the  hardness  of  the  wooden  pkeasaiUsp 
and  the  Urngkness  of  the  pasteboard  fies^  In  the  mock  minuet,  between 
Sir  Harry  and  Mrs,  Kitty,  the  Baronet  observed,  **  this  vras  the  first  time 
he  had  the  hononr  ci  dancing  at  a  ball  without  music;  but  he  would  sing 
theair.'' 

The^adslntheuppergallery  took  the  hint,  and  called  out  to  the  staga 
company  to  retreat  a  little,  and  they  would  supply  the  music.  This  was 
done,  and  in  a  minute  vras  commenced  a  concert  ir^Z  and  detrimental^ 
to  the  great  terror  of  tbe  audience,  and  the  discomfiture  of  tbe  manager; 
lor  soch  a  thunder-storm  of  benches,  bottles,  chandeliers,  and  other  mis- 
silea,  covered  the  stage,  that  the  remainder  of  tiie  afterpiece  was  adjooraed 
sime  £^  and  tbe  theatre  closed  for  several  weeks.  * 

On  Mrs,fiiddons*  engagement  at  the  rival  theatre,  she  was  ronsecl  by 
enralation,  and  played  Belvidera,  Isabella,  See.  against  that  kidy.  The 
critics,  however,  were  divided  in  their  opinions;  in  general  thecompe- 
titioo  was  thought  very  unequal,  for  Mrs.  Siddons  was  then  in  the  i enith, 
and  Mrs.  Crawford  in  the  nadir  of  her  powers.  It  is  but  justice  to  her 
■Kmoty  to  add,  that  she  was  universally  acknowledged  superior  to  her 
rival  hi  the  pathetic,  and  inferior  to  her  in  the  terrific.  Her  last  appear- 
ance in  London  was  at  Covent  Garden  theatre  in  1797;  but  the  unre- 
Icstiiig  hand  of  time  had  destroyed  those  powers  that  fascinated  so  many 
andiqices,  and  she  quitted  the  stage  for  ever. 

Her  ntaatioD  in  the  close  of  life,  although  retired,  was  by  no  means 

roL.  1.  K 


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50  BARRY. 

letter^  by  unquestionably  establishing  herself  the  first 
actress  on  the  British  stage. 

In  the  Grecian  Daughter  they  shone  with  unrivalled 
lustre,  the  feeble  and  affecting  part  of  Evander  being  well 
adapted  to  the  venerable  figure  and  fine  pathos  of  this 
declining  great  actor,  and  the  filial  piety  and  towering 
spirit  of  the  Grecian  daughter  could  not  have  been  more 
happily  displayed  in  all  their  force  than  by  Mrs.  Barry. 

Many  characters  could  be  mentioned,  in  which  they 
swayed,  at  pleasure,  the  feelings  of  their  audience,  and 
bade  sighs  and  tears  alternate  rise  and  flow.  Amongst 
others^  Jaffier  and  Belvidera,  in  Venice  Preserved ;  but 

obscure ;  as,  since  her  retnrn  to  London,  she  had  resided  in  the  bonse  of  a 
relative,  a  most  amiable  and  respectable  lady  (her  hasl>and,  a  man  eminent 
in  the  medical  line),  in  Qneen  Street,  Westminster,  who  rendered  her 
CYcry  attention  ttie  nearest  connection  could  have  afforded.  A  few  days 
previous  to  the  last  moments  of  this  great  actress,  she  requested  her 
remains  to  be  deposited  near  those  of  Mr.  Barry,  and  hi  as  private  a 
manner  as  possible.  Her  hut  wish  was  strictl]L  attended  to,  for,  after 
being  placed  in  a  leaden  coffin,  they  were  conveyed  to  Westminster  Abbey 
in  a  hearse  decorated  with  all  the  mournful  ornaments  usual  upon  such 
occasions.  A  coach  likewise  attended,  containing  the  clergyman,  physi- 
cian, apothecary,  and  her  executor,  the  only  surviving  son  of  her  brother, 
the  late  W.  Street,  Esq.  of  Bath. 

Thus  was  obscured  for  ever  one  of  the  brightest  planets  in  the  theatric 
hemisphere ;  and  thus  died  a  woman  who  united  talent  with  virtue,  and 
the  most  shinhig  abUities  to  the  most  extendve  goodness  of  heart. 

It  would  be  a  difficult  task  to  mention  any  station  in  existence  which 
presents  so  many  strange  vicissitudes  as  that  of  an  actress,  who  frequently 
experiences  in  real  life  all  the  varieties  of  situation  which  her  profession 
calls  upon  her  to  exhibit  on  the  stage ;  and  it  often  lamentably  happens, 
that,  at  the  close  of  her  career,  her  woes  are  not  fictitious.  The  youthful 
days  of  this  individual'  were  illumined  by  the  sunshine  of  universal 
admiration.  Lovely  herself,  both  in  face  and  figure,  she  could  not  faU  to 
excite  ttie  love  of  others.  A  few  years  of  professional  exertion  placed  her 
on  the  pinnacle  of  theatric  fame,  both  as  a  disciple  of  Thalia  and  Melpo- 
m(|pe ;  and  her  bright  bark  was  floating  with  the  tide  that  **  leadeth  on  to 
fortune,"  when  an  unfortunate  marriage  bhwted  all  her  hopes,  aud^ 
clouded  a  prospect  seemingly  destiued  remain  to  bright  for  ever. 

It  is,  however,  to  be  hoped  that  the  judicious  and  candid,  whilst  con- 
templating with  delight  upon  the  pleasure  her  almost  unrivalled  talents 
have  afforded  them,  will  bury  in  oblivion  those  failings  to  which  human 
nature  is  ever  liable. 


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BARRY.  51 

none  can  be  oatned  with  Essex  and  Rutland,  in  Jones's 
play  of  the  Earl  of  Essex;  in  the  celebrated  scene  in  which 
the  ring  is  mentioned,  they  fairly  "  drowned  the  stage  in 
tears.^  And  we  have  heard  many  a  theatric  veteran  ac- 
knowliedge,  that  although  he  had  considered  him%e\f  stage* 
hardened,  and  as  immoveable  as  the  bench  that  he  sat 
upon,  that  he  could  not  help  shedding  tears  at  this  memo* 
rable  scene. 

Little  remains  now  to  be  said  of  Mr.  Barry,  than  that 
aboot  the  year  1774,  he  quitted  Drury  Lane  for  Covent 
Garden,  and,  on  signing  articles,  procured  a  considerable 
addition  to  his  income.  But  an  hereditary  gout  (which 
occasionally  attacked  him  from  his  earliest  days)  rendered 
his  performances  not  only  unfrequent  but  imperfect ;  yet 
it  is  but  justice  to  the  memory  of  this  luminary  of  the 
histrionic  art,  to  declare,,  that  even  in  this  exhausted  state 
of  his  powers,  bowed  down  with  infirmity,  and  cramped 
with  aches,  like  the  great  Marius  sitting  on  the  ruins  of 
Carthage,  be  gave  his  audience  an  affecting  picture  of 
what  he  once  was.  His  voice,  which,  to  the  last  period 
of  his  theatric  life,  retained  its  melodious  cadences,  and 
bis  conception  of  the  poet,  being  as  bold  and  vigorous  as 
heretofore. 

He  quitted  this  earthly  stage  at  the  age  of  fifty-seven, 
slain  by  his  ancient  enemy,  the  gout,  on  the  lOth  of  Ja- 
nuary, 17779  A^  hi*  house  in  Norfolk  street  in  the  Strand, 
and  was  interred  privately  in  the  cloisters  of  Westminster 
Abbey. 

Barry  was  the  easiest  man  in  the  world  to  live  with  as 
a  companion  and  friend.  He  had  a  gift  of  pleasing  in 
conversation  beyond  most  men,  owing  more  to  the  man- 
ner than  the  matter.  To  those  who  are  conversant  with 
the  domestic  management  of  actors,  it  will  create  no  sur- 
prise to  find  that  Barry  did  not  confine  himself  within  the 
limits  of  his  income,  which,  from  the  first,  was  very  con* 
siderable.  One  of  his  greatest  pleasures  consisted  in 
giving  splendid  and  sumptuous  entertainments ;  and  it  is 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


52  BARRY. 

recorded  of  bim^  that  no  nian  did  the  honours  of  the  table 
with  more  gentlemanly  ease  and  poli^teness. 

Mr.  Pelhanii  who  was  highly  delighted  with  his  style 
of  acting,  once  invited  himself  to  sap  with  him,  but  the 
profusion  of  elegant  dishes,  with  the  choicest  and  dearest 
wines  which  Barry  provided  for  him,  so.  displeased  the 
statesman,  that  he  never  gave  him  another  opportunity  of 
exposing  his  want  of  judgment. 

This  gentleman,  besides  the  splendour  of  his  dramatic 
talents,  possessed,  in  a  very  eminent  degree,  the  fasci* 
nating  powers  of  polite  address  and  persuasive  insinua- 
tion. At  no  period  of  its  history  could  the  Dublin  stage 
boast  so  powerful  a  combination  of  talents  as  when  under 
the  direction  of  Mr.  Barry  :  and  although  the  salaries  of 
the  very  best  actors  in  that  day  bore  no  sort  of  comparison 
to  that  of  very  inferior  talents  in  this,  yet  his  receipts  were 
frequently  inadequate  to  his  expenditures,  and  he  was,  in 
consequence  of  that  and  his  style  of  living,  constantly 
embarrassed.  He  had,  of  course,  a  crowded  levy  of  im- 
portunate claimants;  but  no  man  ever  possessed  more 
eminently  the  power  of  soothing,  that  ''  horrible  monster, 
hated  of  gods  and  men'' — a  dun.  For  though  most  of 
them  were  sent  empty  away,  none  departed  with  an  ach- 
ing heart;  for  he  adorned  his  hnpunciualUies  with  such 
witching  politeness,  and  so  many  satisfactory  reasons,  and 
cherished  hopes  with  such  encouraging  prospects,  as  re* 
cohciled  disappointments,  and  silenced  the  most  rude  and 
determined  importunacy.  Numberless  are  the  instances 
related  of  bis  management  in  this  respect.  One  or  two 
specimens  may  serve  to  illustrate  his  talents. 

His  stage  tailor  at  Dublin  had  agreed,  in  order  to 
secure  to  himself  all  the  profits  of  his  contract,  to  furnish 
materials  as  well  as  workmanship ;  but  the  manager,  in 
process  of  time,  had  got  so  deeply  into  his  books,  as  to 
expose  him  to  much  embarrassment  from  his  own  creditors. 
Unwilling  to  offend  so  good  a  customer,  the  man  had  wora 
out  all  patience  in  the  humilities  of  civil  request  and  pres- 


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BARRY.  53 

sing  remonstrance.  At  last,  be  was  determined  to  pnt  on 
a  bold  face,  and  become  quite  gruff  and  sturdy  in  his  de- 
mands. But  the  moment  he  came  into  the  manager's  pre- 
tence, his  resolution  failed  him,  for  he  was  assailed  by  such 
powers  of  bows,  an'd  smiles,  and  kind  inquiries  after  his 
femily,  such  pressing  invitations  to  sit  in  the  handsomest 
chair,  take  a  glass  of  wine,  partake  a  family  dinner,  or 
spend  a  Sunday  at  the  manager's  villa;  and  all  that  he 
intended  to  say,  ia  urging  his  claim,  was  so  completely 
anticipated  by  apologies  and  feasible  excuses  for  non-pay- 
ment, that  he  could  not  find  courage  to  pronounce  the 
object  of  hrs  visit.  And  if  he  betrayed  any  symptoms  of 
a  disposition  to  reply  or  remonstrate,  the  discourse  was 
so  agreeably  turned  in  an  instant,  that  he  could  not  ven- 
ture to  urge  a  disagreeable  topic,  and  he  retired  under  an 
escort  of  the  manager  in  person  to  the  stairs'  head.  De- 
scended to  the  hall,  under  a  shower  of  kind  expressions, 
was  ushered  to  the  door  by  a  brace  of  liveried  footmen, 
rang  up  for  the  very  purpose. 

On  his  return  home  from  these  visits,  his  wife,  who  was 
of  the  Xanlippean  school,  failed  not  to  lecture  him  se- 
verely, as  a  noodle  and  a  ninnj/,  who  had  not  the  courage 
to  demand  and  insist  upon  his  right  as  a  inan;  assevera- 
ting, that  ^  if  she  had  the  management  of  the  affair,  she 
would  soon  have  the  money,  in  spite  of  the  manager's  pa* 
Javering."  The  husband  acknowledged  his  weakness,  and 
said  be  should  cheerfully  resign  the  business  to  her  care, 
but  predicted,  that,  with  all  her  fierceness,^  she  would  be 
conquered  also. 

The  good  lady  chose  a  morning  for  her  purpose;  ad- 
vanced against  the  manager,  attired  in  all  her  finery,  and 
armed  with  all  her  ferocity  and  eloquence,  reached  Barry's 
hall  door,  where  her  presence  was  announced  by  a  thun- 
dering sonata  on  the  knocker.  The  footman,  guessing 
the  nature  of  her  errand,  and  anticipating  a  storm,  from- 
die  fory  of  her  countenance,  said  his  master  was  not  at 
home.    Just  at  this  moment,  however,  the  voice  of  Mr. 


Digitized  by  VjjOOQIC 


54  BARRY. 

Barry  was  heard  oo  the  staircase^  calling  to  one  of  his  ser* 
vantSy  and  betrayed  the  ofUcisijib  of  the  lacqoey.  ''There,'' 
said  the  sphynx,  "  I  knew  you  were  telling  me  a  lie ;  he 
is  at  home,  and  I  must  see  him  directly ;"  and  immediately 
ran  up  the  stairs.    Mr.  Barry,  who  had  seen  her  before, 
kenned,  at  a  glance,  the  object  of  her  mission,  and  met 
her  at  the  stairs'  head,  witl^  a  smile  of  ineffable  kindness^ 
welcomed  her  to  his  house,  took  her  politely   by  both 
hands ;  led  her  into  the  drawing-room  (frowning  like  a 
bear),  made  a  thousand  kind  inquiries  about  her  good, 
kind  husband,  and  her  dear  little  children ;  shew^  her  his 
pictures ;  consulted  her  judgment  as  to  the  likeness  of  bis 
own  portrait;  lamented  her  fatigue  in  walking  so  far  in 
so  cold  a  morning;  rang  up  his  senrants;  ordered  fcesh 
coffee  and  chocolate;  would  hear  no  excuse,  but  insisted 
that  she  should  take  some  refreshment,  after  so  long  a 
ramble.   The  table  was  spread  with  elegancies:  preserved 
fruits,  honey-combs,  liqueurs,  and  cordials,  courted  her 
palate  to  fruition,  and  a  large  glass  of  excellent  cherry- 
brandy,  pressed  on  her  with  persuasive  kindness,  banished 
from  her  countenance  all  the  stern  array  of  the  morning, 
and  attuned  her  heart  to  such  kindness,  that  all  debts  wf  re 
forgotten,  and   all  demands  rendered  quite  impossible. 
The  lady,  overwhelmed  with  politeness,  was  about  to  de* 
part,  but  Mr.  Barry  could  not  suffer  this  in  an  ordinary 
way,  nor  leave  his  victory  incomplete.     He  insisted  on 
giving  her  a  set-down  at  her  house,  in  his  own  carriage. 
He  backed  his  request  with  another  small  glass  of  cherry- 
brandy,  to  fortify  her  stomach  against  the  cold  air.    The 
carriage  was  ordered,  and,  after  a  circuit  of  three  miles 
through  the  principal  streets  of  the  metropolis,  he  set  the 
lady  down  at  her  own  door,  with  the  kindest  expressions 
of  politeness  and  respect,  and  the  highest  opinion  of  his 
person  and  character. 

The  husband,  who  awaited  with  eagerness  the  return  of 
his  wife,  drily  asked,  "  Well,  my  dear,  I  suppose  you 
have  got  the  money  ?"    But  the  lady,  finding  in  her  own 


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BARRY.  55 

failure  a^  ample  excuse  for  tbe  fotmer  weakness  of  her 
bosband,  fairly  owned  herself  vaiK^uished,  aod  sud  that  it 
was  impossible  to  offend  so  sweet  a  gendeoMu^  by  dun- 
oing  him  for  money. 

The  other  instance  was  in  the  case  ef  an  eminent  mer- 
cer,  named  Grogan,  to  whom  the  manager  owed  a  large 
sam  for  the  finery  of  bis  tragedy  queens  and  fashionable 
personages  of  the  drama.    He  was  admitted  to  be  not 
only  an  accomplished  miser,  but  one  of  the  most  perse- 
vering and  inexorable  dons  in  Europe*    But  his  importu- 
nacy  with  the  manager  having  failed  in  Dublin^  he  fol- 
lowed him  to  London,  with  no  other  purpose  than  to  elicit 
the  amount  of  bis  debt  by  tbe  combined  forces  of  entreaty 
and  menace.    Defeated  in  his  first  approaches  by  th^ 
usual  iufluence  of  Barry's  urbanity,  he  rallied  again,  and, 
during  the  month  he  continued  in  London,  renewed  his 
attempts  by  a  dozen  advances  to  the  charge,  but  with  the 
like  success.    Mr.  Barry's  irresistible  politeness,  thecor- 
dial  suavity  of  his  manners,  his  hospitable  invitations  to 
dinner,  his  solicitude  to  procure  for  his  good  friend  ticketi 
for  admission  to  all  the  places  of  public  amusement,  and 
his  positive  determination  to  accommodate  him  on  those 
occasions  with  the  use  of  his  own  carriage  and  servants, 
rendered  it  quite  impossible  for  Mr.  Grogan  even  so  much 
•  as  once  to  mention  the  subject  of  his  debt,  and  he  returned 
to  Dublin  to  tell  the  story  of  his  utter  defeat  by  so  con- 
summate a  master  in  the  science  of  finesse. 

We  intended  here  to  have  closed  this  article,  but  can- 
not resist  the  inclination  of  insertrag  the  following  well- 
written  criticism,  published  in  a  pamphlet,  entitled  "  Ef- 
fusions to  the  Theatrical  Memory  of  Mr.  Barry." 

^  Barry  looked  the  lover  better  than  any  body ;  for  he 
had  the  finest  person,  and  smiles  became  him  :  nor  did  he 
act  it  worse  than  be  looked  it,  for  be  bad  the  greatest  me- 
lody in  bis  voice,  and  a  most  pleasing  insinuation  in  his 
address.  To  excite  pity  by  exhibitions  of  grief  and  afflic- 
tion, is  one  of  the  qiost  arduous  tasks  of  a  tragedian :  ^  Is  it 


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5«  BARRY, 

not  monstrous  (says  Hamlet)  that  this  player  here,  shouldi 
in  a  fiction,  in  a  dream  of  passiony  so  force  his  soul  to  hit 
conceit,  that,  from  bis  workings  all  his  visage  warmed ; 
tears  in  his  eyes,  distraction  in  his  aspect,  a  broken  voice, 
and  bis  whole  function  suiting  with  forms  to  his  conceit?' 
These  were  Barry's  excellencies,  and  in  these  he  stood  un- 
rivalled* His  mien  and  countenance  were  so  expressive  of 
grief,  that,  before  he  spoke,  we  were  disposed  to  pity;  but 
then  his  broken  throb  so  wrung  our  soul  with  grief,  that  we 
were  obliged  to  relieve  ourselves  by  tears*.  In  Macbeth, 
Barry  was  truly  great,  particularly  in  the  dagger-scene: 
his  pronunciation  of  the  words,  *  There's  no  such  thing/ 
were  inimitably  fine;  he  spoke  them  as  if  he  felt  them. 
In  his  performance  of  Lear,  he  gave  considerable  marks  of 
his  judgment,  by  throwing  a  very  strong  and  affecting 
cast  of  tenderness  into  his  character:  he  never  lost  sight 
of  the  father;  but  in  all  bis  rage,  even  in  the  midst  of  his 
severest  curses,  you  saw  that  his  heart,  heavily  injured  as 
he  was,  and  provoked  to  the  last  excess  of  fury,  still  owned 
the  offenders  for  his  children.  His  figure  was  so  happily 
disguised,  that  you  lost  the  man  in  the  actor,  and  had  no 
other  idea  in  his  first  appearance,  than  that  of  a  very 
graceful,  venerable,  kingly,  old  man:  but  it  was  not  in  bis 
person  alone  he  supported  the  character;  his  whole  action 
was  of  a  piece :  and  the  breaks  in  his  voice,  which  were 
uncommonly  beautiful,  seemed  the  effect  of  real,  not  couo« 
terfeited  sorrow. 

**  The  advantage  which  he  bad  from  bis  person,  the 
variety  of  his  voice,  and  iu  particular  aptitude  to  express 
the  differing  tones  which  sorrow,  pity,  or  rage  naturally 
produce,  were  of  such  service  to  him  in  this  character, 
that  he  could  not  fail  of  pleasing;  and  his  manner  of 
playing  Lear  appeared  perfectly  consistent  with  the  whole 
meaning  of  the  poet.  If  any  performer  was  ever  bom  for 
one  particular  part,  Barry  was  for  Othello.    There  is  a 

*  Of  this  we  have  emiiient  instances  in  Essex,  Jamer,  and  Lear;  and 
almost  erery  character  he  played. 


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BARRY.  57 

length  of  periods,  and  an  extravagance  of  passion  in  this 
party  not  to  be  found  in  any  other  for  so  many  snccessive 
scenes,  to  which  Barry  appeared  peculiarly  suitable : 
with  equal  happiness  he  exhibited  the  hero,  the  lovl^r,  and 
the  distracted  husband.  He  rose,  through  all  the  passions,  > 
to  the  utmost  extent  of  critical  imagination,  yet  still  ap- 
peared to  leave  an  unexhausted  fund  of  expression  be* 
hind.  In  the  characters  of  Anthony,  Varanes,  and  in 
every  other^  indeed,  in  which  the  lover  is  painted  with 
the  most  forcible  colouring,  we  shall  not  look  upon  his 
like  again*. 

**  I  can  hardly  conceive  that  any  performer  of  antiquity 
could  have  excelled  the  action  of  Barry  in  the  part  of 
Othello.  The  wonderful  agony  in  which  he  appeared 
when  be  examined  |he  circumstance  of  the  handkerchief; 
the  mixture  of  love  that  intruded  upon  his  mind,  upon  the 
innocent  answers  which  Desdemona  makes,. betrayed  in 
his  gesture  a  variety  and  vicissitude  of  passions  sufficient 
to  admonish  any  man  to  be  afraid  of  his  own  heart,  and 
strongly  convince  him,  that  by  the  admission  of  jealousy 
into  it,  he  will  stab  it  with  the  worst  of  daggers.  Who* 
ever  reads  in  his  closet  this  admirable  scene,  will  find  that 
be  cannot,  except  he  has  as  warm  an  imagination  as 
Sbakspeare  himself,  perceive  any  but  dry,  incoherent,  and 
broken  sentences;  a  reader  who  has  seen  Barry  act  it,  ob- 
serves, that  there  could  not  have  been  a  word  added; 
that  longer  speeches  would  have  been  unnatural,  nay, 
impossible,  in  Othello's  situation." 

*  The  celel>nted  Tom  Davies  speaking,  among  other  characters,  of 
Banyft  Alexasder,  says,  **  The  TaDqiiUher  of  Asia  nerer  appeared  to 
■Bore  adnuitage  in  representation,!  believe,  than  in  Uie  person  of  Spranger  ^ 
Barry.  He  looked,  moyed,  and  acted  the  hero  and  the  lover  in  a  manner 
to  soperior  and  elevated  that  he  charmed  every  audience  that  saw  him, 
and  gave  new  life  and  vigour  to  a  play  which  had  not  been  seen  since  the 
death  of  Delany.  His  address  to  his  fiivourite  queen  was  soft  and  elegant, . 
and  his  love  ardently  passionate.  In  the  scene  with  Clytus,  in  his  rage 
Ik  was  terrible ;  and  in  his  penitence  and  remorse  excessive.  In  his  Ust 
Atiacting  agongr,  his  delirious  lan|^  was  wild  and  frantic ;  and  his  dying 
gTMD  •fleeting.''— Dramatic  ]IGmSUmu»,  voL  Ui. 


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56 


JAMES  BARRY, 

Tre  historica]  painter,  was  bom  in  G>rk,  on  October 
nth,  1741.  His  father  is  reported  by  different  biogra* 
phers,  to  hare  been  a  victnaller,  a  slop-seller,  and  a  coast- 
ing trader,  whether  all,  or  either  is  not  very  material^  the 
latter  however,  is  most  probable,  as  James  is  said  to 
have  accompanied  him,  during  his  early  youth,  in  several 
voyages  across  the  channel;  but  the  boy  had  no  taste  for 
navigation,  and  the  father  it  seems,  had  as  little  taste  for 
any  thing  else. — His  son's  intellectual  propensities  be 
regarded  with  mortal  aversion,  but  at  length  finding  them 
insurmountable,  he  submitted  to  an  evil  which  could  not 
be  resisted,  and  consigned  him,  with  prudential  regrets 
and  dreary  forebodings,  to  the  sterile  pursuits  of  litecature 
and  art.  To  these  pursuits  ^e  atmosphere  of  a  trading 
sea-port  was  not  very  congenial;  but  it  was  part  of  Barry's 
unlucky  fatality  to  subvert  the  beautiful  theories  of  atmos*- 
pberic  influence.  Genius  creates  its  own  opportunities,  and 
Barry,  amidst  the  impediments  of  poverty  and  sordid  society, 
distinguished  himself  in  such  a  degree  in  his  scholastic 
acquirements,  as  to  excite  the  admiration  of  his  rivals, 
and  the  attention  of  his  superiors.-^ He  was  constitotioD- 
ally  ascetic,  exhibiting  in  early  youth,  a  predilection  for 
those  hardships  and  privations  in  which  his  subsequent 
fortunes  so  bountifully  indulged  him ;  he  loved  to  sit  up 
all  night,  drawing  or  transcribing  from  books,  and  when- 
ever he  allowed  himself  the  recreation  of  sleep,  he  preferred 
the  boards  to  his  bed.  Whether  he  ever  condescended  to 
relax  from  this  severity  of  discipline,  it*is  difficult  to  guess ; 
the  most  particular  of  his  biographers,  indeed,  informs  us, 
that  ^'  he  was  not  behind  other  boys  in  such  pastimes  and 
mischiefs  as  boys  are  sometimes  given  to,"  but  he  adds,  m 
the  same  page^  '*  that  his  habits  never  resembled  those  of 
ordinary  boys,  as  be  seldom  mixed  in  their  plays  or  amuse- 
ments." From  this  species  of  evidence,  it  would  be  pre- 
sumptuous to  form  a  conclusion. 


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BARRY.  59 

Barrj  bad  a  xrhoic^  of  religions;  his  father  was  a  pro- 
testant,  his  mother  a  catholjici  and  her  creed  he  adopted, 
as  she  had  probably  taken  most  pains  to  form  his  opinions; 
yet,  although  this  early  pre-disposition  was  confirmed  bj 
his  own  inquiries,  for  he  had  made  himself  by  intense 
inTestigation,  a   profound  polemic,  he  appears  at  one 
period  to  have  vaccillated,  like  n^ost  other  young  men, 
in  bis  religious  opinions,  and  had  nearly  enrolled  him* 
self  among  that  illuminated  class  of  philosophers  who 
modestly  deny  every  tJiing  which  they  are  unable  to 
comprehend;  Butler's  Analogy  of  Religion,  put  into  his 
bands  by  Burke,  rescued  him  from  the  gulph  of  infiddity ; 
and  it  had  been  well  if  be  had  imbibed  the  moderation 
together  with  the  conviction,,  which  breathes  through  that 
admirable  treatise;  but  enthusiastic  in  all  things,  he  rushed 
from  doubt  to  bigotry,  which  in  after-life,  was  confirmed 
to  such  a  pitch  of  inveteracy,  that  he  was  on/ce  heard  to 
consign  Pope  to  everlasting  perdition,  for  the  heterodox 
liberality  of  his  Universal  Prayer. 

At  the  age  of  two  and  twenty,  Barry  came  to  Dublin, 
and  exhibited,  at  the  Society  of  Arts  in  that  capital,  an 
historical  picture  which  he  had  recently  painted,  on  the 
subject  of  a  tradition  relative  to  the  first  arrival  of  St* 
Patrick  in  Ireland.    This  picture,  it  may  be  presumed,  was 
sufiiciently  defective,  but  Achilles  when  brandishing  the 
sword  in  petticoats,  though  not,  perhaps,  evincing  all  the 
masterly  management,  which  he  afterwards  acquired  oa 
that  instrum^Qti  still  shewed  himself  Achilles;  and  Barry, 
in  this  his  first  appeal  to  the  public,  exhibited  such  proofb 
of  the  divinity  within  him,  a6  induced  Bprke  to  take  him 
under  his  immediate  patronage* — His,  however,  waf  not 
that  capricious  patronage,  which  delights  its  vanity  with 
baring  caught  a  genius,  and  discards  it  as  soonas  caught, 
to  angle  for   others.     Shortly  afterwards,  he  brought 
Barry  with  him  to  £ngland,  provided  him  introductions 
and  employments,  and  in  the  ensuing  year  sent  him  to 
Rome. 


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60  BARRY. 

Barry's  enthosiastic  temper  appears^  at  might  have  been 
expected,  to  have  caught  new  ardour  from  the  contact  of 
congenial  min^s,  during  his  short  residence  in  London. 
The  following  extract  from  one  of  his  letters  during  tliat 
period,  to  his  friend  Dr.  Hugh,  deserves  to  be  inscribed  in 
characters  of  adamant,  for  the  edification  of  all  students  in 
all  professions  r^ — *'  My  hopes  are  grounded,  in  a  most  un- 
wearied intense  application;  I  every  day  centre  more  and 
more  upon  my  art;  I  give  myself  totally  to  it,  and,  except 
honour  and  conscience,  am  determined  to  renounce  every 
thing  else/' 

This  power  of  intense  application,  Barry  did  certainly 
possess ;  but  he  was  very  deficient  in  another  qualification, 
equally  indispensable  in  the  enterprises  of  genius, — he 
wanted  that  cool,  abstracted  magnaminity,  which,  while  it 
absorbs  the  man  in  his  pursuits,  secures  his  temper  against 
petty  interruptions,  the  clamours  of  enemies,  the  admoni* 
tions  of  friends,  hints,  sneers,  prognostics,  and  the  whole 
etcaeteraofins'^nificancies,  which  every  man  finds  himself 
beset  with,  who  starts  forth  from  the  multitude,  and  marks 
out  for  himself  a  career  of  ambition  beyond  their  sympa- 
thy or  comprehension.  Barry  found  at  Rome,  a  set  of 
persons  who,  at  that  time  at  least,  were  as  natural  adjuncts 
to  the  circles  of  art,  as  butterfiies  and  reptiles  to  a  flower 
garden;  wealthy  simpletons  who  came  to  purchase  taste 
and  pictures,  and  needy  knaves  who  were  still  more  ready 
to  jell  those  articles.  With  this  latter  class  of  persons,  it 
is  a  professional  maxim  to  deny  merit  to  all  living  artists : 
Barry  received  this  condemnation  among  the  rest;  but  in- 
stead of  refntinfg  his  calumniators  by  the  silent  energies  of 
his  pencil,  be  impoliticly  engaged  them  with  their  own 
weapons,  and  became  an  infinite  sufferer,  in  a  warfare  of 
dbpute, sarcasm,  and  abilkse.  His  friends,  the  Burkes,indeed, 
seem  to  have  been  suspicious,  that  Barry,  even  without 
the  spur  of  provocation,  bad  a  pre-disposition  to  this 
species  of  contest,  and  Edmund  Burke  addressed  to  him 
at  this  time,  a  letter  on  the  subject,  which  we  subjoin,  as 


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BARRY.  61 

an  invalnable  admoDition  to  all  persoos  subjected  to  simi- 
lar infirmities: — 

''  As  to  any  reports  concerning  your  conduct  and  beha- 
▼iour,  you  may  be  very  sure  they  could  have  no  kind  of 
influence  here ;  for  none  of  us  are  of  such  a  make,  as  to 
trust  to  any  one^s  report,  for  the  character  of  a  person, 
whom  we  ourselves  know.    Until  very  lately,  Thad  never 
heard  any  thing  of  your  proceedings  from  others ;  and 
when  I  did,  it  was  much  less  than  I  had  known  from 
yourself,— that  you  had  been  upon  ill  terms  with  the  artbts 
and  virtuosi  in  Rome,  without  much  mention  of  cause  or 
consequence.     If  you  have  improved  these  unfortunate 
quarrels  to  your  advancement  in  your  art,  you  have  turned 
a  very  disagreeable  circumstance  to  a  very  capital  advan- 
Uge.    However  you  may  have  succeeded  in  this  uncom- 
mon attempt,  permit  me  to  suggest  to  you,  with  that 
friendly  liberty  which  you  have  always  had  the  goodness 
to  bear  from  me,  that  you  cannot  possibly  have  always  the 
same  success  either  with  regard  to  your  fortune  or  your  re- 
putation. Depend  upon  it,  that  you  will  find  the  samecom- 
petitions,  the  same  jealousies,  the  same  arts  and  cabals, 
the  emulations  of  interest  and  of  fame,  and  the  same  agi- 
tations and  passions  here,  that  you  have  experienced  in 
Italy;  and  if  they  have  the  same  efiect  on  your  temper, 
they  will  have  just  the  same  effects  on  your  interest,  and 
be  your  merit  what  it  will,  you  will  never  be  employed  to 
paint  a  picture.    It  will  be  the  same  at  London  as  at 
Rome;  and  the  same  in  Paris  as  in  Ijondon;  for  the  world 
is  pretty  nearly  alike  in  all  its  parts;  nay,  though  it  would 
perhaps  be  a  little  inconvenient  to  me,  I  had  a  thousand 
times  rather  you  should  fix  your  residence  in  Rome  than 
here,  as  I  should  not  then  have  the  mortification  of  seeing 
with  my  own  eyes,  a  genius  of  the  first  rank,  lost  to  the 
world,  himself,  and  his  friends,  as  I  certainly  must,  if  you 
do  not  assume  a  manner  of  acting  and  thinking  here,  totally 
different  from  what  your  letters  from  Rome  have  describ- 
ed to  me.  That  you  have  had  just  subjects  of  indignation 
jdways,  and  of  anger  often,  I  do  no  ways  doubt;  who  can 


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62  BARRY. 

live  in  the  world,  without  some  trial  of  bis  patience  f  But 
believe  me,  my  dear  Barry,  that  the  arms  with  which  the  ill 
dispositions  of  the  world  are  to  be  com  bated,  and  thequalities 
by  which  it  is  to  be  reconciled  to  us,  and  we  reconciled  to  it, 
are  moderation,  gentleness,  a  little  indulgence  to  others ;  and 
agreat  deal  of  distrust  to  ourselves,  which  are  not  qualities  of 
a  mean  spirit, as  some  may  possibly  think  them ;  but  virtues 
of  a  great  and  noble  kind,  and  such  as  dignify  our  nature, 
as  much  as  they  contribute  to  our  repose  and  fortune;  for 
nothing  can  be  so  unworthy  of  a  well  composed  soul,  as  to 
pass  away  life  in  bickerings  and  litigations,  in  snarling 
and  scuffling  with  every  one  about  us.  Again  and  again, 
dear  Barry,  we  must  be  at  peace  with  our  species,  if  not 
for  their  sakes,  yet  very  much  for  our  own.  Think 
what  my  feelings  must  be,  from  my  unfeigned  regard  to 
you,  and  from  my  wishes  that  your  talents  might  be  of 
use,  when  I  see  what  the  inevitable  consequences  must 
be,  of  your  persevering  in  what  has  hitherto  been  your 
course  ever  since  I  knew  you,  and  which  you  will  permit 
me  to  trace  out  to  you  before-hand.  You  will  come  here; 
you  will  observe  what  the  artists  are  doing,  and  you  will 
sometimes  speak  a  disapprobation  in  plain  words,  and 
sometimes  in  a  no  less  expressive  sile.nce.  By  degrees 
yon  will  produce  some  of  your  own  works.  They  will 
be  variously  criticised ;  you  will  defend  them ;  you  will 
abuse  those  that  have  attacked  you ;  expostulations,  dis- 
cussions, letters,  possibly  challenges  will  go  forward; 
you  will  shun  your  brethren,  they  will  shun  you.  In  the 
mean  time  gentlemen  will  avoid  your  friendship,  for  fear 
of  being  engaged  in  your  quarrels ;  you  will  fall  into  dis- 
tresses, which  will  only  aggravate  your  disposition  for  far- 
ther quarrels;  you  will  be  obliged  for  maintenance  to  do 
any  thing  for  any  body;  your  very  talents  will  depart  for 
want  of  hope  and  encouragement,  and  you  will  go  out  of 
the  world  fretted,  disappointed,  and  ruined.  Nothing  but 
my  real  regard  for  you,  could  induce  me  to  set  these  con- 
siderations in  this  light  before  you.  Remember  we  are 
born  to  serve  and  to  adorn  our  country,  and  not  to  contend 


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BARRY.  6S 

w^b  our  fellotw*citizeQ8,  and  that  in  particular  your  busi- 
Btst  is  to  paint  and  not  to  dispute/' 

William  Burke  appears  to  have  had  less  faith  in  the 
efficacy  of  advice,  for  after  venturing  a  little  on  the  same 
subject  to  Barry,  he  consolingly  adds,  he  might  as  well 
have  spartd  himself  his  labour,  for  if  such  was  Barry's 
nature,  it  would  always  remain  soothe  event  proved  him 
the  better  philosopher.  Barry,  however,  when  disengaged 
from  these  petty  contentions,  set  in  vehemently  to  his 
studies,  and  investigated  the  great  works  of  ancient  and 
modern  art,  with  profound  and  indefatigable  attention. 
In  bis  modes  of  study,  as  in  every  thing  else,  he  was 
peculiar;  his  drawings  from  the  antique  were  made  by 
means  of  a  patent  delineator,  a  mechanical  process  which 
saves  all  trouble  to  the  eye  and  hand.  Barry  considered 
the  spontaneous  correctness  of  drawing,  acquired  by  the 
habitual  exercise  of  those  organs,  a  thing  of  small  com- 
parative importance;  but  by  minutely  dividing  and  sub- 
dividing, enlarging  and  diminishing,  the  studies  made  by 
the  above-named  method,  he  sought  to  establish  in  his 
mind  an  abstract  canon  of  proportion. — Barry,  indeed, 
delighted  in  the  idealities  of  his  art,  and  shrunk  from  the 
grossness  of  executive  excellence:  nevertheless,  he  made 
some  copies  of  Titian,  which  satisfied  his  ambition,  on  the 
subject  of  colour;  and  if  he  was  mistaken  in  supposing 
that  the  copyings  of  Titian  alone  can  make  a  colourist, 
without  perpetual  recurrence  to  nature,  he  by  no  means 
stands  alone  in  that  error.  But  of  his  ardour  and  success 
in  the  study  of  those  masters,  whose  qualities  were  more 
congenial  to  his  own,  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo,  his 
subsequent  works  furnish  an  illustrious  evidence. 

He  remained  in  Rome  five  years,  and  was  elected  during 
that  period,  a  member  of  the  Clementine  Academy  at  Bo-^ 
logoa,  on  which  occasion  he  painted  as  his  picture  of  recep- 
tion, Philoctetes  in  the  island  of  Lemnos.  He  returned  to 
England  in  1770,  destitute  of  all  but  art,  yet  elate  in  the 
consciousness  of  his  talents  and  acquirements,  and  panting 
for  an  opportunity  of  executing  some  great  public  work. 


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64  BARRY. 

which  should  serve  at  once  as  his  own  monument,  and  at 
a  vindication  of  bis  country  against  the  aspersions  of  me- 
taphysical drivellers  (Winckelman  and  others),  who  had 
asserted  its  utter  incapacity  for  the  historical  branch  of 
the  fine  arts. — A  design  was  however  formed  of  decorating 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  with  the  works  of  our  most  eminent 
painters  and  sculptors,  and  Barry  was  to  have  been  em- 
ployed on  the  subject  of,  "  The  Jews  rejecting  Christ 
when  Pilate  entreats  his  release;**  but  the  scheme  was 
discouraged,  and  its  probable  success  can  now  be  only  a 
subject  of  speculation. 

The  year  after  his  return,  be  exhibited  bis  picture  pf 
Adam  and  Eve,  and  in  the  year  following,  his  Venus 
Anadyomene;  this  picture  is  unquestionably,  in  all  that 
relates  to  form  and  character,  an  exquisite  personification 
of  female  grace  and  beauty.  In  1775,  he  published  an 
Inquiry  into  the  real  and  imaginary  Obstructions  to  the 
Acquisition  of  Arts  in  England;  this  work  is  equally 
valuable  for  its  research,  its  acuteness,  and  its  patriotism; 
but  Barry  hastened  to  the  practical  proof,  that  neither  fog 
norfrostcan  repress  the  aspirations  of  genius.  He  proposed 
to  the  Society  for  the  Encouragement  of  Arts,  Manufactures, 
and  Commerce,  to  paint  gratuitously,  a  series  of  pictures, 
allegorically  illustrating  the  culture  and  progress  of  human 
knowledge,  which  now  decorate  the  great  room  of  the 
Society;  he  persi.sted  in  this  great  work  amidst  poverty  and 
privation*,  and  completed  it  iu  seven  years.  Whatever  may 
be  its  deficiencies  in  colour  and  execution,  it  exhibits  a 
mastery  of  design,  a  grasp  of  thought,  and  a  sublimity  of 
conception;  with  such  an  appropriation  of  those  powers 
to  the  purposes  of  ethical  utility,  as  secures  to  the  Author 
a  triple  wreath  of  immortality  as  an  artist,  a  philanthropist^ 
and  a  philosopher.  In  a  country  like  England,  when  an 
individual  was  found  who  had  devoted  himself  to  a  pro- 
tracted martyrdom,  in  an  attempt  to  add  the  last  gem  to 
her  diadem,  to  crown  her  pre-eminence  in  literature  and 

*  Sobtistiiig  the  greater  part  of  the  time  oo  tnread  and  applet. 


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BARRY.  65 

mtm%9  with  tbe  honours  of  historic  art,  it  might  hare  been 
expected,  that  such  an  ibdividual  had  some  slight^^laiu) 
en  her  gratitude,  and  that  from  the  plethoric  superabun- 
dance of  her  wealth,  she  would  have  dropped  a  mite,^^bioh, 
however  insignificant  in  itself,  would  have  secure^d  her 
enthusiastic  champion  from  future  indigence  and  embar- 
tassmoat.  Bartys  performance  passed  before  the  public 
Tision,  with  as  little  observance  as  the  last  new  pantomime, 
and  was  certainly  less  productive;  the  profiu  of  the  ex- 
hibition amounted  to  500/.  to  which  200/.  were  added  by 
a  vote  of  the  Society,  for  whose  rooms  they  had  been 
painted,  and  this  sum  comprises  nearly  the  whole  produce 
of  Barry'^  professional  career.  A  man  of  more  constitutional 
pladdity  than  Barry,  might  have  felt  irritated^  that  after 
having  expended  on  a  public  work  all  the  fruiu  of  his  study, 
fmd  the  energies  of  hi«  youth,  bis  labopc^  had  left  him  no 
chance  of  independence,  unless  th#t  independence  should 
be  purchased  by  a  sacrifice  of  all  tbe  comforts  and  cqnve- 
piences  of  life.  We  regret  to  add  what  truth  extorts  frpm 
IIS,  that  Barry's  natural  irritability  seems  to  have  increased 
from  this  period,  even  to  a  degree  of  exasperation ;  and 
that  his  powers  of  mind,  at  least  in  what  relates  to  the 
exerdse  of  his  art,  seem  to  have  sunk  in  a  gradual  declen- 
tioiL  His  picture  of  Pandora,  which  we  gladly  refrain  from 
commenting  on,  is  too  explicit  a  prc^of  of  this  last  assertion; 
and  his  disputes  with  tbe  Academy  are  as  strong  an  evi- 
dence of  tbe  former.  He  had  been  elected  professor  of 
painting  in  1782,  and  almost  from  the  period  of  his  instal- 
ment, he  had  been  engaged  in  a  perpetual  contest  with 
his  fellow-academicians :  these  dissensions  became  at  last 
so  insuflTerable,  that  the  council  preferred  against  him  a 
fcrmal  body  of  charges,  and  in  a  general  assembly  of  the 
Academics,  the  ofiences  of  the  prof(^sor  were  considered 
of  such  magnitude,  tl^at  he  was  divested  of  his  office,  and 
expelled  the  Academy. 

Soon  after  this  event,  the  Earl  of  Buchan  set  on  foot  a 
subscription,  which  amounted  to  about  ICXX)/.  with  which 

VOL.   I.  F 


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66  BARRY. 

kis  friendi  porebated  an  aimmty  for  his  life ;  but  \m  < 
preyeoted  his  rcapii^  any  benefit  from  tins  detigfs.  The 
manner  of  his  death,  h  dim  related  by  his  biographer  :-**<' 
'^  On  the  evening  of  Thursday,  Feb.  6,  1806^  be  w«* 
seized,  as  he  entened  tbe  boose  where  he  usually  dined^ 
with  the  cold  ftt  of  a  plemritie  fever,  of  so  in  tense  a  degree^ 
that  all  his  feoolties  were  suspended,  and  he  unable  toi 
articulate  or  move*  Soioe  cordM  wan  adusinistered  ta 
htm ;  and,  on  his  coming' a  little  to  himself,  he  was  taken 
in  a  coach  to  the  door  of  bis  twtt  house*,  which,  the  kr)r<- 
hde  being  plugged  with  dirt  and  pebbles,  ab  had  been 
often  done  before  by  thcf  malfeey  or  perhaps  tbe  rogueiy 
of  boys  in  the  neighbourhood,  it  wais  i^possibte  tcyopen^ 
Tbe  night  beings  dark,  and  he  shivering  under  tbe  pro^ 
gress  of  his  disease,  his  friends  tbought  it  advisable  tw 
drive  away,  without  loss  of  tifiie,  10  the  bosphabk  mansion 
of  Mr.  Bonomii.  By  the  kindness  of  that  good  fenrily,.  a 
bed  was  procured  in  a  neighbouring  house,  to  which  be 
was  immediately  conveyed.  Here  he  desired  to  be  left^ 
and  locked  htntself  up,  unfortunutely,  for  forty  boura^ 
whhout  the  least  medical  assistance.  What  took  pdaee 
in  tbe  mean  tia»e,  he  oouM  give  bat  lictle  account  o^  m 
he  represented  himseif  to  be  delirious,  and  only  rearf^* 
iscted  bis  being  tortored  with  a  b»ming  pain  in  bis  side, 
and  with  difficulty  of  breatbii^.  in  this  short  time  wa9 
the  death-blow  given,  whtch>  by  the  prompt  and  tiaiely 
aid  of  copious  bleedings,  mi^bt  have  been  averted  ;  but, 
with  this  aid,  such  bad  been  the  re^actfon  of  the  hot  is 
SDceeeding  the  rigours,  and  the  violence  of  the  indaoH 
mation  on  the  pleura,  that  aneAision  of  iympb  had  cakew 
place,  as  appeared  afterwuMh'  upwk  disiectifoiii.  la  the 
a^moon  of  Saturday,  Feb«  8,  he  rose  and'Crawkid  font* 
to  relate  his  complaint  to*  the  writer  of  this  account;  Ho^ 
was  pate,  breathless^  and  tottering,  as  be  entered  tbm 
room,  with  a  dull  pain  in  his  side^  a  cougli^  short  mari^ 

*  A  lyoogrsphic  sketch  of  which,  from  in  original  drawing,  we  present 
thsVesderMtfa. 


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IM  CASTLE    fTRfttT    -    OXrom    MARKKT. 


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BARRY.  67 

ibeeaWLm^  amd  «  f^he  qbick  m4  ft^bfe.  S^c^eding  tt^ 
M^i^  pmved  mf  llttie  Hv&iK  Whb  ex^cerbaeidn^  and 
r«miMMs  of  fiet^r,  he  lingered  to  the  «2nd  of  February, 
when  he  «xpit^/'  His  remai^Si after  lying  in  ttate  in  tlie 
gfeat  room  of  the  Soei^ety  of  Arts,  Adelphi^  were  interred 
itt  Su  PiDWil-B  Odtbedrri^  with  dtle  solcimiity,  And  tbe  at- 
teniaMe  of  mady  of  hniB  friends  and  adtidirers,  among  whom 
was  not  one  aHist. 

When  we  consider  Barry's  style,  in  comparison  with 
other  works  of  art^  it  is  difficalt  to  assign  it  a  specific 
pfaoe  or  degree.  H«  ifi  the  proselyte  of  no  ptrticalar 
master,  the  disciple  of  no  part tcuiar  sehool.  That  namp 
of  origfnelity  wMcb  ttvarked  every  future  of  his  character, 
is  strongly  conspicuous  in  his  Woi4:s.  H'fs  works,  iiideed, 
Are  bvt  ah  amplification  of  his  character,  for  he  did  not 
possess  that  praiem  faculty  of  gentus  whidh  can  assume 
tbe  form  and  colour  of  tbe  objeet  it  creates ;  that  faculty 
by  which  Shakspeare  identified  hhnself  with  Fhlstaff,  Ham- 
let, and  Hotspar :  Barry^s  genius,  in  this  particular,  bore  a 
nearer  resemblance  to  «4iat  of  Dante  and  Milton.  The 
artist  is  perpetually  present  in  his  Work ;  but  this  species 
of  obstinate  personality  has  an  interest  of  its  own,  and  is 
neter  iasipfd,  though  it  wants  the  charm  of  versatility. 

Bnrry,  with  the  mmd  ^f  a  philosopher,  had  little  of  the 
feeKngs  <tf  a  painter.  He  delighted  to  construct  magni- 
ficent systems  of  ethicB ;  nnd  he  employed  his  pencil  to 
tttnstmte  those  systems,  irometimes  with  as  little  reference 
to  the  natural  and  intrinsic  capabilities  of  art,  as  this 
heratd  pMrter,'  wb^  arranging  his  quartei*ing9,  gives  to  the 
harmony  of  colours.  The  picture  of  "  Final  RetributTott*' 
b  a  sufficient  evidence  of  this :  that  composition,  in 
wfcatever  relates  to  Ae  philosotAy  of  it,  is  undoubtedly 
ndmiiiible.  Infinite  judgment,  and  a  most  prolific  in- 
dention, are  displayed  in  the  selection,  association,  and 
employment  of  its  multitndiiloiis  groups;  but,  surely, 
no^Mg  in  painting  was  ever  so  utterly  unpicHires^  sis 


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68  BARRY. 

this  work  iQ  its  geDenJ  effect.  The  picture  is  rather  an 
index  to  the  book  of  explanation,  than  the  book  to  the 
picture ;  and  the  eye  wanders  in  vain  amidst  a  promiscoous 
throng  of  kings,  qoakers,  legislators,  and  naked  Indians^ 
for  a  centre  of  interest  and  a  point  of  unity.  If  it  be 
objected  that  this  defect  was  inherent  in  the  subject,  the 
inference  is,  that  the  subject  ought  not  to  have  been 
chosen;  but,  even  when  such  incongruities  were  no 
natural  adjuncts,  Barry  sometimes  went  in  search  of  them. 
He  stopped  at  nothing  in  the  shape  of  an  illustration;  and, 
in  the  picture  of  the  ^'  Triumph  of  the  Thames,"  consi^ 
dering  music  a  necessary  accompaniment  on  that  occasion, 
he  has  thrown  a  musician  in  his  wig  into  the  ^ater,  who, 
luckily  for  himself,  being  an  expert  swimmer,  is  seeo 
coquetting  among  the  naiads. 

Barry's  inadequacy,  in  the  peculiar  qualifications  of  a 
painter,  is  still  more  evident  in  his  colouring  and  exe« 
cution.  His  works  at  the  Adelphi  are  stained  designs 
rather  than  pictures.  In  a  work  of  such  extent,  the  artist 
may,  perhaps,  be  excused  for  a  deficiency  in  some  qua- 
lities which  are  indispensable  in  smaller  performances; 
but,  if  the  absence  of  tone  and  surface  be  permitted  on  the 
score  of  magnitude,  that  extenuation  cannot  apply  to  the 
want  of  clear  and  characteristic  colouring.  If  the  figures 
of  Rubens  are  said  to  have  fed  on  roses,  those  of  Barry 
may  be  pronounced  to  have  battened  on  bricks.  One 
frowsy  red  pervades  his  flesh  tones,  and,  consequently, 
there  is  little  or  no  complexional  distinction  of  age,  sex, 
or  character;  certainly,  the  eye  is  not  offended  by  auy 
glaring  obtrusion  of  tints;  and,  so  far,  the  pictures  are 
in  harmony.  There  can  be  no  discord  where  there  is  no 
opposition. 

We  have  particularised  Barry's  defects  without  com- 
punction, because,  giving  them  their  full  force,  he  stands 
on  an  eminence  which  bids  defiance  to  criticism.  If  So<- 
crates  had  been  a  painter  instead  of  a  sculptor,  and  had 
chosen  to  illustrate  his  doctrines  by  a  graphical,  rather 


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BARRY.  69 

tbtn  k  rhetorical  exhibitioD,  we  may  imagine  that  he  would 
have  selected  soch  subjects,  and  have  treated  them  pre* 
cisely  in  the  manner  which  Barry  has  done.  Admitting 
some  trifling  derelictions,  he  was  great  in  every  part  of  his 
art  which  is  abstractedly  tntellectoal.  The  conception  of 
the  work  on  *'  Human  Culture''  could  only  have  originated 
in  a  mind  of  gigantic  order;  nor  is  the  genera)  grandeur 
of  the  design  more  extraordinary  than  the  skill  with  which 
so  large  a  mass  of  components  has  been  bent  to  the  illus* 
tratioQ  of  one  particular  idea.  Nor  is  it  to  be  ioferred 
that  he  was  deficient  in  nil  the  essentials  of  manual  per* 
fbrmaoce :  though  not  a  great  painter,  he  was  certainly  a 
great  designer.  He  was  scientifically  acquainted  with  the 
human  figure,  and  his  drawing,  if  not  always  graceful,  is 
invariably  bold  and  energetic.  In  composition,  whenever, 
the  subject  was  well  chosen,  he  takes  a  still  higher  ground. 
The  picture  of  "The  Victors  at  Olyropia,"  (his  finest 
production,)  is  at  once,  a  personification  of  history, 
and  the  vision  of  a  poet.  It  is  a  gorgeous  assemblage  of 
classical  imagery;  the  whole  seems  inspired  by  one  spirit,, 
and  that,  the  spirit  of  ancient  Greece.  In  expression, 
^ugh  seldom  intense,  he  was  never  inappropriate.  The 
Angelic  Guard  in  the  "  Final  Retribution'^  may  be  a(U 
duced  as  an  instance  of  accurate  discrimination  in  this 
particular.  The  countenance  of  the  angel  who  holds  the 
balance  of  good  and  evil  is  pregnant  with  divine  intelli- 
gence; and  his,  who  leans  over  the  brink  of  Tartarus,  com- 
miserating the  condemned,  has  always  struck  us  as  an 
image  of  exquisite  pathos  and  beauty. 

Barry's  deficiency  in  executive  skill  is  more  extraordi- 
nary, since  he  seems  to  have  had  a  strong  relish,  and  a 
keen  perception  of  it,  in  the  works  of  the  old  masters. 
Any  one  who  should  have  formed  an  opinion  of  his  pic* 
tures  from  a  previous  perusal  of  his  writings,  would  expect 
to  find  in  them  all  the  refinements  and  delicacies  of  surface 
and  of  cokmr.  But  this  disparity  between  the  faculties  of 
crkicisai  and  performance  is  nQt  peculiar  to  Barry,  and  it 


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70  BARRY. 

prav^  ai  len^t  c|)(e  fyihfiy  9f  ^bai:  tbeo^j  wbicb  affirxuf 
^'  geoius"  to  he  the  OipemtiQB  of  ''a  ppund  of  large  geaeiral 
powers  accideiHally  dire^it^c)  ijq  a  particular  pursuit/' — 
This  w«A  the  bypothieei«  of  3ir  J.  Reyaoldsy  who  likewise 
confuted  it  m  his  praqtice^;  for  while  in  bis  diaooar&cf  be 
8|>oke  With  eamparatm  wntBwpt  pf  colpuriogt  he  i^ade 
ii  in  hU  practice  the  tih^ol^tof  bb  anahition;  and 
who»  though  he  lauded  the  ^7W  of  Mi^el  Angelo  with 
rapAurouf  eatbtt$i««9iQ^  yet  oer^r  atteippted  a  picture  ia 
thtt  atyle.  The  bet  is,  the  abstract  reasonings  of  thi# 
great  urtiAt  weire  borne  down  bj  the  strong  influence  of  bis 
partiipular  tevpemipeai.  What  neeident^  ipflueuceror 
system  of  disciplii»e  conU  htve  given  B-nbeps  delic^cy^  or 
B^ipbraodt  grace?  could  have  made  Hogarth  ^a  epic 
painter^  or  Barry  a  tMunocous  one  ?^-We  do  not  consider 
these  obserrations  irrelef  ant>  because  we  think  the  bypo-> 
Uiesis  permcioiis ;  nothing  is  more  essential  in  all  pursuit! 
of  taste  and  intellect  than  that  the  student  should  ^ 
oertain  as  speedily  as  possibly  the  exact  direction  of  bil 
powers^  that  he  may  not  be  led  by  a  o^isicoocepiion  of  hi^ 
qwfi  character  to  waste  the  energies  of  bis  appliQiytiom,  in 
attempting  to  force  a  passage  ihpougb  regions  wbiob 
Apollo  has  barricaded  against  him. 

There  have  heea  so  maoy  anecdotes  told  of  Bmrryi  nU 
of  which  have  been  ^^  Ugbfy  atUhatlkaed/^  that  we  almost 
despair  of  presenciBg  the  reader  with  one  which  he  has  not 
heard  before.  The  following,  however,  has  never  been  given 
to  the  public  in  all  the  detttl  ita  merits  deserve,  and  is. 
moreover  so  graphicalfy  charaderuiic,  that  we  conld  not 
answer  its  omission  to  our  conacioDce. 

He  resided  in  a  little  house,  in  Little  Su  Martin's  Lfine, 
with  BO  companions  but  a  venerable  cat,  aod  an  old  Irish* 
wwman  who  served  him  in  the  capacity  of  facMum^  He 
was  too  much  of  the  stoic  philosopher  to  he  over  solicitous 
in  the  articles  of  furniture,  or  the  style  of  neatness ;  aod  his 
hottse-keeper  was  of  a  chanacler  little  ^Usposed  to  annoy 


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BtARRY,  71 

1^1%  hf  ib^  tfqubk»Q«ae  optiiatiopf  of  domestic  oleatilioess. 
i}if  tifne  wh«  olM^fly  »pw^  '^  ^  compaay  of  afew  t;KcdIeot 
fictMTtfif  and  d  few  choice  booki,  chiefly  biftpri^s^  eave- 
Ipyedy  like  biai#elf>  m  amoke  and  du9t;  hi3  ctiliqary  ope- 
l^iion»  w^fe  of  a  piece  with  tbe  rest^  find  io  bis  ardour  for 
hi^  favQpriie  p^rsaitSf  90  far  vas  he  frombeiogamao  who 
lived  poly  lo  ^t»  that  be  searoeiy  ate  to  live. 

Saoateriog  09ie  day  alope  ip  St*  Jaip^s's  Park,  be  acci^ 
d^tally  met  Bigrfce,  who  accosted  biip  10  a  most  kind  and 
firiendJy  oiaooer ;  expreMPg  nmob  pleasure  oo  seeiqg  him^ 
40d  ge^Uy  chiding  bipA  for  not  having  called  to  see  him 
{qi  so  many  years*  Bairry,  with  great  fireedom  and  cheers 
falaess;^  recog^sed  their  oiA  aoquaiotapce  and  friendship, 
iu  earlier  years;  bnt  be  aaid  it  was  a  maxim  with  him 
when  any  of  his  old  friends  soared  into  regions  so  fac 
above  bis  sphere,  seldom  to  trouble  them  with  bis  visits 
or  obsolete  reoolWctiona$  be  considered  therefore  his  old 
friend  Burke^  a«  now  too  great  a  man  for  intercourse  with 
a  grouoiUiog  like  bimself.  Mr.  Burke,  rather  hurt  at  this 
unmerited  tannt,  (for  no  man  was  Ie8s  proud,  more  kindj, 
or  assumed  so  littU  on  the  scoro  of  rank  and  talents,) 
pressed  Barry  to  a  friendly  visit  at  bis  bouse:  but  Barry 
insisted  on  pieoedenoe  in  tbe  n^arch  of  hospitalityi  and 
iuYited  the  statesman  to  come  next  day,  and  take  with 
bin  a  friendly  beef^ateak,  at  bis  house  in  Little  St*  Martin's 
Lane;  to  which  Mr*  Burke  agreed^  aod  kept  his  appoint* 
ment.  When  be  rapped  at  tbe  door,  bowevc^r.  Dame 
Ur§mla  wfao,opened  it,^  at  first  denied  that  her  master  was 
^  borne;  bnt  oit  Mr.  Burke's  expressing  some  surprise 
and  ansoitiicing  his  name,  Barry  overheard  his  voice,  and 
nm  down  stairs  in  the  usual  trim  of  abstracted  genius, 
atierly  regardlessof  his  personal  appearance:  his  scanty  gr<y 
bair,  anconscionsof  tbe  coittb,  sported  in  disordered  ringlets 
romd  biaheBd;  a  greasy  gieen  silk  shade  over  his  eyes, 
served  as  an  aaxiliaiy  to  a  pair  of  horiMmounted  spectacles^ 
to  stsengtben  hia  visiam.  His  linen  was  none  oS  tbe 
wbitost,  ^nd  a  sort  of  foquelaure  served  the.  parposes  of 


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Ti  fiAllRY. 

a  rdbede  chambre;  but  it  wds  of  thecbtapokite  order,  for  it 
i^as  ntixhti  jockei/'<oat,  surtoui^  pelh$&,  dor  tunic,  but  a 
mixture  of  all  four;  aod  the  chronology  of  it  might  have 
puzzled  the  Society  of  Antiquari&DS  to  develop.  After  a 
welcome  greeting,  he  conducted  hi^  dbquent  country- 
man to  his  dweIling*room  on  the  first  floor,  which  served 
him  for  kitchen,  parlour,  study,  gallery,  and  painting  room ; 
but  it  was  at  that  moment  6b  befogged  with  smoke,  as 
almost  to  suffocate  its*  phthisibky  owner,  and  was  quite 

impervious  to  the  rays  of  visioti.  Barry  apologized;  d d 

the  bungling  chimney  doctors;  hoped  the  smpke  would 
clear  up,  as  soon  as  this  firls  burned  bright;  and  was  quite 
at  a  loss  to  account  .for  ''  such  in  infernal  smother,"  until 
Mr.  Burke,  with  ioibe  difficulty  convinced  him  he  was 
himself  the  cause':  for,  in  order  to  remedy  the  errors  of  his 
chimney,  he  had  retnoved  the  old  stove  grate  from  the 
fire-place  ibib  Xhi  >;Vkitre  of  th&  room,  where  it  was  sus^ 
tained  by  a  large  old  dripping  pan,  by  way  of  a  platform, 
to  save  the  carpiet  from  ignition ;  and  he  had  been  occu- 
pied foi'  hdf  an  hour  with  the  bellows  to  cheer  up  the 
coals  to  a  h\tze.  He  was  now  prevailed  on  to  assist  his 
guest  in  reiboving  the  grate  to  its  proper  situation,  and 
the  witadoWs  being  thrown  open,  the  smoke  soon  vanished; 
He  boW  "proceeded  to  conduct  his  guest  to  see  his  pio^ 
tures  in  certain  apartments  on  the  higher  story,  where 
iniany  ^iquisite  pieces  without  frames,  stood  edgewise  oh 
the  flooi')  with  their  fronts  to  the  walls,  to  guard  them 
frbtn  Injury ;  and  by  the  aid  of  a  sponge  and, water,  their 
boats  of  dust  were  removed,  and  their  beauties  developed, 
'mbch  to  the  delight  of  the  guest— Having  lectured  con 
amore  upon  the  history  and  merits  of  the  paintings,  his 
tijixi  object  was  to  display  to  his  guest  the  economy  of  his 
bed-room:  the  walls  of  this  apartment,  too^  were  occupied 
by  framelesa  pictures,  veiled  in  perennial  dust,  which  was 
likewise  sponged  off,  to  develop  their  beauties,  and  dis- 
play some  first-rate  gems  of  the  art.  Id  a  sort  of  recess 
Wtween  Uie  fire-place  and  the  wall|  stood  a  Hump  btdsietid 


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BARRY.  >    tS 

%itboat  curkaiDi,  and  connterpaned  by  a  rug,  bearing  all 
die  vestiges  of  long  and  ardoous  serVice^  tod  tinted  only 
by  the  accamqlated  soil  of  half  b  century^  which  no 
scourer's  hand  had  ever  prophaned.  *'  That^  Sir/'  said  th^ 
artist,  '*  is  my  bed;  I  use  no  ctirtainSy  because  they  are 
iinwholesome^and  I  breathe  more  freely^andsleep  as  sound* 
ly  as  if  i  reposed  on  down,  and  snored  under  velvet. — But 
there,  my  friend,"  oontinued  he,  pointing  to  a  broad  shelf^ 
fixed  high  above  the  bed,  and  fortified  on  three  sides  by 
the  walls  of  the  reeesa,  ^  thai  i^  my  chef-fTauvre. — 'Ecod 
I  have  outdone  them  at  hist." — *^  Out^ne  whom  V  said 

Mr*  Burke. — "  The  rats^  the  d d  rats,  my  dear  friend," 

replied  Barry,  rubbing  his  palms  in  ecstacy,  ''  they  beat 
me  out  of  every  other  security  in  the  house — could  not 
keep  any  thing  for  them,  in  cupboard  or  closet;  they 
devoured  my  cold  meat,  and  bread  and  cheese,  and  bacon: 
but  there  th^  are  now,  you  see,  all  safe  and  snug,  in  defi- 
ance of  all  the  rats  in  the  parish/'  Mr.  Bqrke  could  not 
do  less  than  highly  commend  his  invention,  and  congra- 
tulate him  on  its  success.  They  now  descended  to  the 
first  fx>om;  Barry,  whose  only  dock  was  his  stomach,  felt  it 
was  his  dinner  hour,  but  totally  forgot  his  invitation,  until 
Mr.  Burke  reminded  him  of  it: — ^'  Ods-oh!  my  dear 
friend,"  said  he,  '^  1  beg  your  pardon:  so  I  did  invite  you, 
and  it  totally  escaped  my  memory: — but  if  you  will  sit 
down  here  and  blow  the  fire,  I'll  step  out  and  get  a  charming 
beefsteak  in  a  minute."  Mr.  Burke  took  the  bellows  to 
cheer  up  the  fire — and  Barry  his  departure  to  cater  for  the 
banquet  And  shortly  after,  he  returned  with  a  comely 
beef-steak,  enveloped  in  cabbage  leaves,  crammed  into  one 
pocket;  the  other  was  filled  with  potatoes;  undei*  each  arm 
was  a  bottle  of  port,  procured  at  Slaught^'s  coffee-house; 
and  in  each  hand  a  French  brick.  Ad  antique  gridiron 
was  placed  on  the  fire,  and  Mr.  Burke  performed  the 
office  of  cook ;  while  Barry  as  butler,  set  the  table,  which 
he  covered  with  a  table  cloth,  perfectly  geographical;  for 
the  stains  of  former  soups  and  gravies  had  given  it  th^ 


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74.  RATHE; 

appsartAoc  pf  a  Map  of  the  World*  The  keiv^  ain}  fqrk» 
were  yeterana  brigaded  from  diffcocAt  sex$,  for  ao  two  of 
them  woire  the  same  uoifornii  id  hladei^  haiidl^?^  or  shapes. 
Dame  Ursula  cooked  the  potatoes  io  Tlppermim  perfec-i 
tion,  and  by  five  o'clock,  the  hungry  friends  sat  down  liket 
Eneas  and  Achates  to  make  a  hearty  meal :  after  having 
dispatched  the  ^'  pinguem  ferinam/'  they  whiled  away  the 
time  till  nine  o'clock^  ov^  their  two  flagons  ^^^oeiem 
Bacehi;'-^ 

'*  A«4  jok'dy  and  l9fa^%  W4  tidk'd  of  foraier  ^mfsa." 
Mr.  Burke  has  often  been  beard  to  declare^  thai  this  was  one 
of  the  most  aipusiog  and  delightful  days  of  bis  whole  lifet 


WILLIAM  BATHE, 

An  eipinent  Jesuit,  was  born  in  Dublin,  in  1564.  The 
Bathes  were  fprmerly  of  considerable  eminence  in  the 
counties  of  Dublin  and  Meath,  but  by  extravagance,  mis- 
fortunes, and  injudicious  intermeddling  in  civil  dissen- 
sions, tbey  were  so  reduced  that  no  branch  of  any  note 
remains  in  the  country.  The  parents  of  William  Bathe 
were  citizens  of  Dublin,  and  of  the  protestant  religion : 
but  not  feeiiqg  a  very  anxious  regard  as  to  the  religions 
principles  of  their  son,  they  put  him  under  the  tuition  of 
a  zealous  catholic  schoolmaster,  through  whose  early 
instructiop  his  mind  was  imbued  with  such  a  predilection 
for  that  persuasion,  as  ^tted  him  for  the  course  of  life  he 
afterwards  embraced.  From  Dublin  he  removed  to  Oxford, 
where  he  studied  several  years ;  but  the  historian  of  that 
university,  Anthony  Wood,  was  unable  to  discover  at 
what  college  or  hall  he  sojourned,  or  whether  he  took 
any  university  degree.  Afterwards,  being  weary  of  the 
heresy  professed  in  England  (as  he  usually  called  it)  he 
went  abroad  ;  and,  in  ]590,  was  initiated  into  the  society 
of  th^  Jesuits.  After  remaiqing  some  time  in  Flanders, 
he  was  sent  to  Padua,  in  Italy;  and  from  thence  to  Spain, 
where  he  presided  over  the  Irish  seminary  at  Salamanca, 


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BEA$D.  75' 

'*  ad  formationem  spiriiits.^*  He  is  said  to  have  been 
actuated  by  a  ver^  strong  zeal  for  the  propagation  of  the 
catholic  faithy  and  to  ha^  been  much  esteemed  for  the 
intagrity  of  his  life ;  but  it  is  on  record,  that  his  natiirql 
temper  mau  gloomyy  and  ftur  from  sociable*  In  I6l4  be 
took  a  jonmey  to  Madrid  to  transact  soose  bqsiaess  on  ac* 
oaamol  his  ordar,  and  died  in  that  city, aqd  was  buried  in  the 
Jesuit's  coBTeoL  He  had  a  high  character  for  learning ; 
ajid  one  of  his  works  proves  him  entitled  to  it^-t-^  Jaima 
liagnarumy  ecu  Modns  maarlme  aocommodatus  quo  pa- 
rehii  aditDs  ad  omnes  Linguas  intelligendas/'  Salamanca, 
1611*  It  was  piiblislied  by  the  care  of  the  Irish  fatbeirs 
of  the  Jesqiu  at  Sakmanca,  an^  became  a  standard  hook 
for  the  instruction  of  yonth.  He  also  wrote,  in  Spaniahi 
'^  A  Preparation  for  the  administering  of  the  Sacrament 
wiih  greater  F^eUity,  and  Fruit  of  Repentance^  than  bath 
beea  akandy  done/'  Milan,  1604.  It  was  published  by 
Joseph  Cresweil,  under  the  name  of  P«ter  Maurique.  He 
wrete  in  Bnglish  and  Latin,  and  published,  but  without 
his  name,  ^  A  Methodical  Institation  eonoeraing  ibe  chief 
Myit^riM  of  the  Christian  Rdigion.^  He  pnblisbed  an^ 
other  religions  work,  ^^  A  Method  for  the  performing  of 
general  Confesaioo.'' 

In  bis  youth,  at  Oxford,  he  was  much  delightad  with 
the  study  of  music;  on  which  he  wrote  a  treatise.  It  was 
eolitied  ^^  A  Brief  Introdootion  to  the  True  Art  of  Music^ 
wherein  are  set  down  exact  and  easy  Eules»  with  argu- 
moats  and  their  solution,  for  such  as  seek  to  know  the 
reason  of  the  truth,''  iiondon,  1584^^  4to. 


THOMAS  BEARD, 
Am  ingenious  engraver,  was  a  native  of  Ijre)and»  and  flou*- 
risked  about  tlie  year  172B«    He  worked  in  meazotiiuey 
and  was  principally  employed  in  portraits. 

The  perio<)  of  his  decease  we  are  wholly  unacquainted 
Vith. 


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16 


RICHARD  BELING, 
A  MAN  endowed  with  both  learning  and  courage,  and 
celebrated  for  bis  vindication  of  tbe  catholics  of  Ireland^ 
from  the  aspersions  cast  upon  them  by  the  historians  of 
the  great  rebellion,  was  descended  from  an  old  English 
family  long  settled  in  Ireland;  and  was  born  at  Belings- 
town,  in  the  barony  of  Balrothe,  in  the  county  of  Dublin^ 
in  1613.  He  was  the  son  of  Sir  Henry  Beling,  Knight,  and 
received  the  early  part  of  his  education  at  a  grammar- 
school  in  the  city  of  Dublin,  but  afterwards  was  put  un* 
der  the  tuition  of  some  priesu  of  the  popish  persuasion^ 
who  sedulously  cultivated  his  natural  talents,  and  taught 
him  to  write  Latin  in  a  fluent  and  elegant  style.  Thus 
grounded  in  the  polite  parts  of  literature,  his  father  trans* 
planted  him  to  Lincob's  inn,  where  he  pursued  his  studies 
for  several  years,  and  returned  home  a  '^  very  accom* 
plished  gentleman;"  but  it  does  not  appear  that  he  ever 
made  the  law  a  profession.  His  natural  inclination  being' 
warlike,  he  early  engaged  in  the  rebellion  of  1641 ;  and> 
although  he  had  not  attained  his  twenty-ninth  year,  was 
then  an  ofiicer  of  considerable  rank,  as,  in  the  February 
of  the  same  year,  he  appeared  at  the  head  of  a  strong 
body  of  the  Irish  before  Lismore,  and  summoned  the 
castle  to  surrender;  but  the  Lord  Broghill,  who  com- 
manded it,  having  a  body  of  a  hundred  new  raised  forceSi 
and  another  party  coming  to  his  relief,  Beling  thought  it 
prudent  to  retire,  and  quitted  the  siege. 

He  afterwards  became  a  leading  member  in  tbe  supreme 
council  of  the  confederated  Roman  catholics  at  Kilkenny; 
to  which  he  was  principal  secretary,  and  was  sent  embas- 
sador to  the  pope  and  other  Italian  princes,  in  1645,  to 
beg  assistance  for  the  support  of  their  cause.  He,  un- 
luckily, brought  back  with  him  a  fatal  present  in  the 
person  of  the  nuncio,  John  Baptist  Rinencini|  Archbishop 
and  Prince  of  Fermo,  who  was  the  occasion  of  reviving 


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BELING.  77 

tbe  distinctioDft  between  the  old  Irish  of  blood  and  the 
old  English  of  Irish  birth,  which  divided  that  party  into 
factions,  prevented  all  peace  with  the  Marquis  of  Ormond, 
and  finally  rained  the  country  he  was  sent  to  save.    When 
Mr.  Beling  had  fathomed  the  mischievous  schemes  of 
the  nuncio  and  his  party,  and  perceived  that  they  had 
other  yiews  than  merely  to  obtain  toleration  for  the  free 
exercise  of  their  religion,  nobody  was  more  jealous  than 
he  in  opposing  their  measures,  in  promoting  the  peace 
then  in  agitation,  and  submitting  to  the  king's  authority, 
which  he  did  with  so  much  sincerity,  that  he  became 
very  acceptable  to  the  Marquis  of  Qrmond,  who  entrusted 
him  with  many  negociations  both  befpre  and  after  the 
Restoration,  all  of  which  he  executed  with  great  fidelity. 
In  1647  he  was  commissioned  %o  transact  the  negotiation 
for  tbe  junction  of  the  Irish  army  with  that  of  the  Mar- 
quis of  Ormond,  before  the  surrender  of  Dublin  to  the 
parliament;  and,  after  the  Restoration,  the  Marquis,  then 
created  Duke  of  Ormond,  employed  him  three  several 
times  to  endeavour  to  prevail  on  the  synod  of  the  catholic 
clergy  assembled,  by  connivance,  at  Dublin,  in  I666,  to 
sign  a  remonstrance  of  their  loyalty,  which  he  had  himself 
subscribed  in  l66t.     These  negotiations,  however,  were 
entirely  fruitless,  the  synod  abruptly  breaking  ofi^  before 
any  business  was  concluded. 

When  the  parliament  army  had  vanquished  the  royalists, 
Mr.  Beling  withdrew  to  France,  where  he  continued 
several  years;  during  which  period  he  employed  himself 
in  composing  several  works  in  Latin,  in  opposition  to 
such  writings  of  the  Rpmish  party  fv  had  been  written  to 
clear  them  from  being  the  instruments  of  the  rebellion, 
and  to  lay  the  blame  thereof  on  the  severity  of  the  Eng- 
lish government.  His  account  of  the  transactions  of 
Ireland,  during  the  period  of  the  rebellion,  is  esteemed, 
by  judicious  readers,  more  worthy  of  credit  than  any 
written  by  the  Romish  party,  and  yet  he  is  not  free  from 
^  partiality  to  the  cause  he  at  first  embarked  in. 


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7S  BERKELEY. 

H^  returned  home  upon  the  Resrt6iiltioti,  and  was  re« 
pM^eiied  of  his  estate  bj  the  iaVour  atid  interest  of  the 
Ddke  of  Onnond.  He  died  in  DtibKit,  hi  September 
1077;  and  w$A  buried  in  the  charch^yard  of  Makihidert, 
Abottt  fire  iniies  from  that  city,  where  there  is  a  tomb 
^»^ted  t6  his  memorjTy  bat  without  any  ins^iiHion  that 
is  ap{Mirent  or  legible. 

Baring  bis  retirement  in  Fraoee,  h^  wrote,  in  Latin, 
in  two  bodks,  "  Vindieiaram  Catholicoram  Hibemae,'' 
tttider  the  ntoie  of  Philopater  Irenseos.  The  first  of  whidi 
giye»  a  pretty  accurate  history  of  Irish  affairs,  from  1641 
to  1649$  and  the  second  is  a  confutation  of  an  epi5tl6 
writteti  by  P&at  King,  a  Franciscan  firiar  sM  a  nnncidtist, 
in  fdbi^cief  6f  the  Irish  rebellion.  1*hitf  book  of  Mr;  B^ 
lAng^B  b«itfg  answered  by  John  Ponce,  a  Franeiscen  friak* 
alsd;  and  a  tnost  implacable  enemy  to  the  protestants  of 
Ireland,  in  a  tract  entitled,  **  Belingi  Vindiciee  eversee," 
oor  author  made  a  reply,  whidi  he  pabKshed  under  tht 
title  of  **  Annotationes  in  Johannes  Poncri  Librum^  cut 
tkalaii  Vihdiciae  Eversse  r  dccesserunt  Belingi  Vindiciie,^ 
Parisiis^  1654,  8v^.  He  Wrote  also  a  vkidieation  of  biw* 
self  against  Nicholas  Prench>  tltnkir  bishop  of  Fem^, 
vnder  the  title  of  ^  Innoctotie  suae  impetitse  per  Reve** 
readitisimum  t^ernensem  vindicisb/'  Pari^,  1652,  Ifimo. 
dedicated  to  the  clergy  of  Ireland;  and  is  reported  tb 
bAve^  written  a  poem,  called  **  The  Eighth  Day,*'  which 
has  e^eaped  our  searches.  When  a  student,  howcTer,  at 
Lincoln's  inn,  he  wrote  and  added  a  sixth  book  to  Sit 
Philip  Sidney's  Arc^ia^  which  Was  prinlod  with  thirt 
fidmance^  London^  1635,  folio,  with  only  the  initials  of  tnft 
name* 

"■  " 

GEORGE  BERKELEY 

Is  a  name  of  which  Ireland  may  justly  boast,  both  for  die 
brtlliancybf  his  getiius  and  hid  extensive  stores  of  know- 
ledge ;  birt  still  more  fbr  the  warmth  of  his  benevolent 


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BBRKELBY.  7» 

heart,  wfaidi  he  manifested  by  a  life  bonoorable  to  hinliidf 
8od  highly  viefal  to  maDkiod.  He  was  botn  March  It^ 
I664|  at  KilcriB^  near  Tboaiaati^wo,  in  the  cooiity  6f  K\U 
kenmy.  His  fether^  WilUaiii  Berkeley  of  Thoma^towti^ 
wn  the  0O&  of  a  loyal  adherent  of  Charlei  h  who,  tfter 
the  RenoratioDi  in  1060,  went  over  to  Irekild,  and  Wad' 
made  collectol'  at  Belfast^ 

Oeorge  Berkeley  received  the  eletnei^ui  of  his  eddeatkm 
at  the  school  of  Kilkenny^  vnder  I>i^.  Wini6iif  #bey«  hef 
gave  early  proofs  of  his  industry  and  daf^actty,  and  dlade 
smh  extmoitiifvaty  progre»,  tbat>  at  the  age  of  fif^dn,  bcf 
was.  found  qualHied  to  be  adftiiued  pensionisr  of  Tridity 
College^  Dublio>  under  Dr.  Hall.  In  that  )eard€>d  doci^ty 
be  ac^ired  distmetioo  i  and^  after  a  tnosi  rigorous  ex^ 
aosioation,  which  be  went  through  with  great  credH,  be 
was  elected  «o  a  fellbwsbrp  of  the  OdllegCi  June  the  9ih, 
1707,  wbeti  a  few  days  older  than  twenty  y^rs. 

He  did  not  dow  relair  into  indolence,  add  ait  down 
qaietly  to  enjoy  leaned  ease,  bdt  proved  to  the  world 
his  incentioii  to  htor^as^  bis  own  kdowledgie^  add  to  com-' 
mnnicate  the  fhiitd  of  his  industry  to  others.  His  first 
pabiicattokl  was  ^  AritbideCiCa  absque  Algebra  aat  Ea^ 
elide  demonstratav"  It  proves  the  solid  foundation  of 
mathematical  knowledge  which  he  had  laid  in  his  mitid. 
kapptans  from  the  prefkoe  to  have  heetk  wHtten  before 
he  was  twenty  yed»  of  age,  though  it  did  not  appear  till 
1707^.  It  is  dedicated  to  Mr.  Paltiser,  son  to  the  Atoh^ 
bishop  of  Caabel;  aod  i»  followed  by  a  niatb^'ttiatictff 
miacellmny^  eoataitiing  observations  and  theoreiM,  iti^ 
acribed  to  his  pupil,^  Mr.  Saftidel  MoUnedx,  whose  4ther 
was  the  friend  and  correspondent  of  Mr.  Loebe.  This^ 
work  is  so  for  carious,  as  it  shews  the  early  vigoor  of  hi^ 
mind,  his  gonhfs^  for  tbe  n»athematics,  and  bi»  attachobent 
CO  those  more  subtle  and  metaphysical  stadies,  in  wbicb 
be  was  peotfliarfy  qualified  to  ibine. 

lop  1709  came  foi^th  the  **  Theory  of  Vision;"  a  work 
which  does  infinite  credit  to  his  sagacity,  being,  at  Dr. 


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8Q       /  BERKELEY. 

Reid  observes,  the  first  attempt  that  ever  was  made  to 
distiogoish  the  immediate  and  natural  objects  of  sights 
from  the  cooclasioos  which  we  have  been  accustomed 
from  our  infancy  to  draw  from  them.  He  draws  a  boQn<» 
dary  between  the  senses  of  sight  and  touch ;  and  he  shews 
clearly,  that  the  connection  which  we  form  iu  our  minds 
between  sight  and  touch,  is  the  effect  of  habit;  insomuch 
that  a  person  bom  blind,  and  suddenly  made  to  see,  would 
be  unable  i^t  first  to  foretel  how  the  objects  of  sight  would 
affect  the  sense  of  touch,  or,  indeed,  whc^ther  they  were 
tangible  or  not;  and,  until  experience  had  taught  him, 
he  would  not  from  sight  receive  any  idea  of  distance,  or 
of  external  space,  but  would  imagine  all  objects  to  be  in 
his  eye,  or  rather  in  his  nunc(.  These,  and  other  interest-^ 
ing  positions,  have  since  been  completely  verified  by 
actual  experiment,  as  may  be  seen  more  particularly  in 
the  case  of  a  young  man  bom  blind,  who,  at  the  age  of 
fourteen,  was  couched  by  Mr.  Cheselden,  in  1728,  and 
received  his  sight.  An  account  of  his  sensations  and 
ideas  is  given  in  Cheselden^s  Anatomy ;  and  has  been  con- 
sidered sufficiently  interesting  to  be  transcribed  into  the 
works  of  numerous  writers  on  the  science  of  the  human 
mind.  In  1733  he  published  a  **  Vindication  of  the  Theory 
of  Vision.** 

In  1710  fippeared  '^  The  Principles  of  Human  Know- 
ledge;" and  in  .1713,  "  Dialogues  between  Hj^las  and 
Philopous/'  But  of  these  works  we  cannot  speak  with  the 
same  df  gree  of  praise ;  they  are,  indeed,  one  of  the  most 
astonishing  proofs  how  far  a  strong  and  energetic  mind 
may  be  carried  away  by  the  pursuit  of  an  absurd  and 
delusive  theory.  The  object  of  both  works  is  to  prove, 
that  the  commonly  received  notions  of  the  existence  of 
'matter  are  absolutely  false;  that  there  are  no  external 
objects,  no  world,  or  any  thing  in  it;  but  that  all  things 
merely  exist  in  the  mind  or  ideas,  and  are  nothing  more 
than  impressions  produced  there,  by  the  immediate  net  of 
the  Deity  I  according  to  certain   rules   termed  laws  of 


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BERKELEY.  81 

natare;  which  the  Supreme  BeiDg  has  been  pleased  to 
obtenre^  and  from  which,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature, 
he  does  not  dcYiate.  In  justice  to  the  author,  it  ought 
to  be  recollected,  that  he  was  then  only  twenty-seven 
years  of  age;  that  the  science  of  metaphysics  was  then 
niore  imperfectly  understood  than  at  present ;  and  that 
many  theories  and  doctrines  then  offered  to  the  worlds 
though  less  singular,  were  as  little  capable  of  defence^ 
Whatever  sceptical  inferences  may  have  been  drawn  frooi^ 
these  works,  the  good  intentions  of  the  writer  are  un- 
doubted ;  and  he  intended  them  to  oppose  the  opinions 
of  sceptics  and  atheists:  and  he  has  attempted  to  inquire 
into  the  cause  of  error  and  difficulty  in  the  sciences,  with 
the  grounds  of  scepticism,  atheism,  and  irreligion,  which 
cause  and  grounds  he  conceived  to  be  the  doctrines  of 
the  existence  of  matter. 

He  seems  persuaded  that  men  would  never  have  been 
led  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  matter,  if  they  had  not 
fancied  themselves  invested  with  a  power  of  abstracting 
substance  from  the  qualities  under  which  it  is  perceived ; 
and  hence  be  is  led  to  combat  an  opinion  entertained  by 
Lock^  and  by  most  metaphysicians  since  that  time^  of 
there  being  a  power  in  the  mind  of  abstracting  general 
.  ideas.  Other  writers,  of  a  sceptical  principle,  embracing 
Mr.  Berkeley's  doctrines,  and  giving  them  a  different  ttn^ 
dency,have  endeavoured  to  sap  the  foundations  of  natural 
and  revealed  religion.  Mr.  Humi  says,  that ''  these  worka 
fonn  the  best  lessons  of  scepticism,  which  are  to  be  found 
either  among  the  ancient  or  modem  philosophers — Bayle 
himself  not  excepted.'^  Dr.  Beattie  comments  on  the 
sceptical  tendency  of  these  doctrines ;  and  adds,  that  if 
Berkeley's  argument  be  conclusive,  it  proves  that  to  be 
false  which  every  one  must  necessarily  believe  every  mo^ 
ment  of  his  life  to  be  Uue,  aud  that  to  be  true,  which  no 
man  since  the  foundation  of  the  world  was  ever  capable  of 
believing  for  a  single  momenta  Berjceley's* doctrine  at- 
tacks the  most  incontestible  dictates  of  common  sense ; 

"VOL.  1.  6 


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88  BERKELEY^ 

atid  pretends  to  dembnitrate,  that  (h^  elearest  priiidpl^ci 
of  human  coaviotiopi  and  those  which  have  determined 
the  judgment  of  mem  in  all  age^,  and  by  wbieh  die  jodg^ 
meat  of.  all  reasonable  men  must  be  deterariBed^  are  c^et* 
tatoly  faUacions.  It  may^  after  all,  be  safely  asa^ted,  that. 
BerkeIey^s:errors  were  such  that  none  but  a  inai^  of  the 
most  vigorous  and  independent  mind  oould  bave>  fallen 
into;  that  they  demonstrate  strong  original  powers;  that 
tl^y  have  done  no  haim  in  society  ;*^ut>  on  the  contrary, 
by -the  discussion  which  they  exoited,  tended  to  enlarge 
the  boqndaries  of  banyan  knowledge. 

In  1712^  by  |be  perusal  of  Locke's  two  treatieea  00  Go- 
vernment, Berkley  >9at.teflftion  wa»  direoted  to  the  doctrine 
df  passive  obedience ;  and  coneemng  the  opposite  opinion- 
was  at  tl>e  time  too  prevident,  he  preached  three  sermons 
on  the  subject  in  the  college  chapel,  which  he  committed 
to  the  press.    This  at  a  fntare  period  was  likely  to  be 
injurioas  to  his  interesU,  as  it  caused  him  to  be  oonsidered. 
a  Jacobite,  and  hostile  to  the  principles  which  diove  o«t' 
the  Stuarts,  and  brought  the  house ,  of  Hanover  to  the 
throne.      His    friend   and  pupil,   Mu  Molineux,  who* 
had  been  secretary  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards- 
George  II*  took  care  to  remove  that  impression,  and  was 
the  means  of  making  hhn  known  to  Queen  Caroline.-    In 
1713  he  published  a  defence  of  his  System  of  Imma* 
terialism.    His  amiable  manners,  bis  highly  respectable 
private  diaracter,  aod  the  acuteness  cf  his  talents,  esta- 
blished his  reputation,  and  made  his  company  sought  even 
by  those  who  opposed   his  metaphysical  speculations.' 
Two  men  of  the  most  opposite  political  sentiments  intro- 
duced him  to  the  society  of  the  learned  and  the  great. 
Sir  Richard  Steele  and  Dr.  Swift.    He  lived  on  terms  of 
strict  intimacy  and  friendship  with  Pope,  during  the 
remainder  of  that  poet's  life.   He  wrote  several  papers  for 
Steele  in  the  Gaardian,  and,  it  is  ^id,  had  from  him  a 
guinea  and  a  dipner  for  each.    Dean  Swift  recommend)^ 
Urn  to  Lord  Berkeley  $  and  procured  for  him  the  appoint- 


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6BREELBY.  83 

teent  of  ctaaj^hiti  und  secretary  to  the  famous  Earl  of 
Peterborough,  who  was  sent  out  embassador  to  the  king 
of  Sicily,  and  the  Italian  States  in  17 13*  On  his  return  to 
England  in  August  1714,  he  found  his  former  friends,  the 
miniJBters  of  Queen  Anne,  now  in  disgrace;  and  men 
of  opposite  principles  forming  the  administration  of 
George  I.  All  bbpes  of  prefcfm^t  were  therefore  at  an 
end;  and  he  thenefofe  willingly  embraced  the  offer  of 
accompanying'Mr.  Ashe,  the  son  of  the  Bishop  of  Clogher, 
in  a  toar  through  Europe.  Soon  after  his  return  to  Eng- 
land in  1714  he  had  a  dangerous  fever,  which  gave  occa- 
flioii  to  Dr.  Arbuthnot  to  indulge  a  little  pleasantry  on 
Berkeleyls  system : — **Poor  philosopher  Berkeley,'*  says  he 
to  his  friiend  Swift,  **  has  now  the  idea  of  health,  which 
was  Tery  hard  to  produce  in  hira ;  for  he  had  an  idea  of  a 
istrange  fever  on  him  so  strong,  that  is  was  very  hard  to 
destroy  it  by  introducing  a  contrary  one." 

Mr,  Berkeley  ^pent  altogether  four  years  on  his  tour, 
and  besides  perf6rming  what  is  called  the  grand  tour,  he 
visited  countries  less  frequented.  He  stopped  some  time 
on  his  way  to  Paris,  and  availed  himself  of  the  leisure  he 
had  there,  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  rival  in  metaphysical  spe- 
culations, the  celebrated  Pire  Malebranche.  He  found 
this  ingenious  father  in  the  eell  of  bis  own  convent,  cook- 
ing in  a  pipkin  a  medicine  for  a  disorder  with  which  he 
was  troubled-— an  inflammation  on  the  lungs.  The  conver^ 
satiod  turning  on  our  author's  system,  of  which  the 
French  philosopher  had  receited  an  account  from  a  trans- 
lation which  had  lately  been  published,  a  discussion  took 
place  between  them,  of  which  the  result  was  fatal  to  P^re 
-Malebranche.  In  the  course  of  the  debate,  he  became 
heated;  raised  his  voice  to  an  unnatural  elevation,  and 
gave  in  to  that  violent  gesticulation  and  impetuosity,  so 
oataral  to  Frenchmen;  the  consequence  of  which  was,  an 
increase  of  his  disorder,  which  carried  him  off  in  a  few 
days. 

From  Apulia  Mr.  Berkeley  wrote  an  account  of  the 


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84  BERKELEY. 

Tarantula  to  Dr.  Freind,  sodi  as  was  there  usually  told  to 
strangers,  but  which  more  accurate  investigation  has  since 
discoTered  to  contain  much  of  imposition  and  exagge- 
ration. He  passed  through  Calabria  to  Sicily,  which 
latter  country  he  examined  with  so  much  attention  as  to 
collect  materials  for  a  new  natural  history  of  it;  but 
which  were  unfortunately  lost  in  his  voyage  to  Naples. 
The  loss  the  world  has  sustained  by  this  accident  may  be 
estimated  from  the  interesting  description  of  the  island  of 
Inarime,  now  called  Ischia,  in  a  letter  to  Pope,  dated 
S^nd  October,  177 ly  published  in  Pope's  works;  and  from 
another  letter  from  Naples,  addressed  to  Dr.  Arbuthnot, 
giving  an  account  of  an  eruption  of  Mount  Vesuvius.  On 
his  way  homeward,  as  he  stopped  at  Lyons,  he  drew  np  a 
curious  tract,  *'  De  Motu,"  which  was  inserted  in  the  M^ 
moirs  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Pkris,  which 
had  proposed  the  subject,  and  which  he  afterwards  printed 
on  his  arrival  in  London  in  1721*  The  nation  was  at  this 
time  in  great  agitation  and  distress  from  the  failure  of  the 
famous  South  Sea  scheme,  which  induced  him  to  publish 
in  the  same  year  '<  An  Essay  towards  preventing  the  Ruin 
of  Great  Britain." 

He  now  found  access  to  the  best  company  in  the  me* 
tropolis.  By  Mr.  Pope  he  was  introduced  to  Lord  Bur* 
lington,  and  by  his  lordship  recommended  to  the  Duke 
of  Grafton,  who  being  lord-lieutenant  of  Ireland,  took 
him  over  in  1721  as  one  of  his  chaplains,  and  in  November 
the  same  year  he  had  both  the  degrees  of  bachelor  and 
doctor  in  divinity  conferred  upon  him.  A  writer  in  the 
Gentleman's  Magazine,  in  1776,  however,  denies  that  he 
ever  went  to  Ireland  as  chaplain  to  any  lord-lientenani, 
and  asserts  that  his  degree  of  D.  D.  was  given  by  hi$ 
college^  in  1717,  when  he  was  in  Italy.  In  1722  he  had 
a  very  unexpected  increase  of  fortune  from  Mrs.  Van- 
homrigh,  the  celebrated  Vanessa,  to  whom  he  had  been 
introduced  by  Swift.  This  lady,  who  had  so  long  enter- 
tained  a  romantic  passion  for  the  Deaui  and  had  intended 


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BERKELEY.  85 

making  him  her  heir,  finding  herself  slightedi  altered  her 
intentions,  and  left  about  8000/.  between  her  two  execu* 
tors^  Dr.  Berkeley  and  Mr.  Marshal.  In  his  life,  in  the 
Biographia  Britannica,  it  is  saidi  that  Swift  had  often 
taken  him  to  dine  at  this  lady's  house;  but  Mrs.  Berkeley, 
his  widow,  asserts  that  he  never  dined  there  but  once, 
and  that  by  chance.  In  the  discharge  of  bis  office  as  exe- 
cutor, Dr.  Berkeley  destroyed  as  much  of  Vanessa's  cor^ 
respondence  as  he  could  find ;  not,  as  he  declares,  because 
he  had  found  any  thing  criminal  in  her  connection  with 
the  Dean,  but  because  he  had  found  in  the  lady's  letters  a 
warmth  and  ardour  of  expression  which  might  have  been 
turned  into  ridicule,  and  which  delicacy  required  him  to 
conceal  from  the  public.  Her  other  executor  did  not  act 
with  equal  tenderness  to  her  memory,  and  published  the 
^  Cadenua  and  Vanessa'^ — which  Dr.  Ddany  asserts  proved 
fatal  to  Swift's  other  lady,  Stella. 

In  1717  he  had  been  elected  senior  fellow  of  his  col- 
lege, and  on  18th  May,  17M|  he  resigned  this  preferment, 
being  appointed  to  the  deanery  of  Derry,  with  about 
nOO/.ayear. 

He  was  now  about  to  enter,  on  a  new  scene  of  life,  in 
which  he  manifested  himself  as  the  benevolent,  disinterested 
philanthropist,  and  warm  supporter  of  Christianity,  in  a 
manner  in  which  he  has  seldom  been  equalled.  He  had 
turned  his  attention  to  the  miserable  condition  of  the  native 
Indians  on  the  vast  continent  of  North  America,  and  felt 
anxious  to  promote  their  civilization,  and  advance  their 
temporal  and  spiritual  benefits.  The  most  likely  meana 
which  appeared  to  the  Dean,  was  to  erect  a  college  for 
the  education  of  young  men,  who  might  afterwards  be  em- 
ployed as  missionaries.  He  accordingly  published  in  17£5 
^A  PrqixMud  for  converting  the  Savage  Americans  to 
Christianity,  by  a  College  to  be  erected  in  the  Summer 
Islands,  otherwise  called  the  Isles  of  Bermuda." — ^With 
so  much  zeal  did  he  enter  into  this  plan,  that  he  actually 
offesed  to  resign  all  his  own  church  preferments,  and 


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86  BERKELEY. 

devote  the  r^naind^  pf  hjis  life  in  directing  the  studieB  of 
the  college,  for  only  100/,  a  year.    Such  was  the  infiaeoce 
of  his  great  example^  that  three  junior  fellows  of  Trinity 
College^  Dublin,  oopcurred  with  him  in  hifr  design, an4 pro- 
posed to  exchange  for  a  settlement  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean, 
of  only  40/.  a  year,  all  their  flattering  prospects  in  theif 
own  country.    The  proposal  was  enforced  on  the  atteption 
of  the  ministry,  not  merely  by  considerations  of  .natnrfU 
honour,  and  a  regard  to  the  interests  of  humanity  an4 
Christianity,  but  also  ^y  the  immediate  a4vant^)?,  lil^ely 
to  accrue  from  it  to  the  gpyerpment.    H9.yiqg,  by  diligent 
research  estimated  the  vajne  of  the  landi^  in  the  Island,  of 
St.  Christopher,  in   the  West  Indies,  ceded  to  Great 
Britain  by  France  at  the  treaty  of  Utrecht)  he  proposed 
'  to  dispose  of  them  for  the  public  use,  apd  thas  to  ra^e  a 
sum  of  moneyi  part  of  which  was  to  be  applied  to.  the 
establishment  of  his  college.    The  scheme  was  commu^ 
nicated  by  the  Abb^  Gualtieri,  or  Altieri,  to  his  Majesty 
King  G^rge  I.,  and  by  the  royal  command  laid  before 
the  House  of  Commons,  by  the  minister  3ir  Robert  Wat* 
pole.    A  charter  was  granted  by  the  King,  for  erecting  the 
college,  to  be  called  "  $t.  PauFs  College,  in  Bermuda,*' 
and  which  was  to  eonsist  of  a  president  and  nine  fellows^ 
who  were  obliged  to  maintain  and  educate  Indian  children 
at  the  rate  of  10/.  per  annum  each.   The  first  president  Or. 
George  Berkeley,  and  the  three  first  fellows  named  in  the 
charter,  those  already  noticed  of  Trinity  College^  Dublint 
were  licensed  to  hold  their  preferments  in  these  kingdoms, 
for  a  year  and  a  half  after  their  arrival  in  Bermuda.    The 
Commons,  in  the  year  1726,  voted  an  address  to  his 
majesty,  praying  a  grant  of  such  a  sum,  to  eflfect.  the 
above  purpose,  out  of  the  land  of  St.  Christopher's  already 
mentioned,  as  hjs  majesty  might  think   proper.  >  .  The 
minister  accordingly  promised  to  advance   10,000/.  and 
considerable  private  subscriptions  were  made,  to  forward 
so  pious  a  purpose.    With:  such  a  iair  prosp^t  of  com*, 
pleting  his  undertaking.  Dr.  Bedkeley  made  preparationft 


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BERKELEY;  »7 

ibff  iMTiBg  the  Ifiiilgd^Di,  and  ibariied  <on  tbe  let  of  Aiign/if^ 
17^  th^  dmghtm  of  t^km  Poster,  Eoq#y  at>€ak^r  of  tile 
InabUoiMd  of  Oonifoonl;  and  he  aetrntUy  sailtd  io  Set>^ 
teoiber  f<^sl€wiiig  for  Rhod^  Islaad,  taking  with  him  ;fai9 
wile^  aBiogfo  lady,  atid  two  geatkment  of  fonime,  add 
haTiog  a  large  stiin  of;  nloney,.  his  ow^A  prof)erty»  add  a 
coll6Qtioii.bf  booka  fov  the  uaeofttt  intetlded  colleger 
Vpon  hi9  arriTiyi  ^  Neirpon,  iiv  Rhode  Iridod/  he  crn^ 
tmolcdlor  the  pdrcbaae  of  laods  on  the  ac^ceiDl 'Continent,: 
^QtertaintUg  a  fall  expMfcalioii>  that,  the  noiiejr,  aodovding 
Ui  the  original  graol^  would  be  immediately  paid.  Hi« 
bopet  were,  boiireVer,.di8a^6intecl;^  the  minister  had  ne^r 
heartily  embraced  the  project^  atid  probably  deemed  it 
chimerical  and  unlileely  tor  be  attended  with  any  benefit;^ 
The  money  was  aooordingly  turned  into  atkither  cbaAneL 
After  a  variety  of  e^mes,  1>«  Berkeley  was  at'  Iftst  in* 
filmed,  in  a  letter  frod  Bishop  Gibsoti,  Who  at  that  time 
presided  oter  tte  diocese  of  Iioodon,  in  wbicb  the  whole 
of  the  West  Indies  is  inclnded,  th^t  baring  waited  on  Sir 
Robert  Walpole^  aad  made  application  for  the  money,  he 
had  received  the  fdlowiag  honest  answer^  ^  If  you  put 
this  question  to  me  as  a  minister/'  says  Sir  Robeit,  ^*  t 
must  and  can  assure  ydu,  that  the  money  tfhall  most  un-» 
do«bt)fdly  be  paid^  as  soon  ai^  suits  with  public  ieonventence;* 
but  if*  yon  ask  me  as  a  friend,  whether  Dean  Berkeley^ 
akoold  cbstia««  in  Ami^rice,  expecting  the  payment  of 
iOfiOOi^  I  advide  him  by  all  means  to  return  to  Europe^; 
and  to  give  up  hit  pn^sent  expectations."  The  sch^me^ 
was  tbercfbie  necessarily  abandoned.  During  the  timfcf 
of  his-resideaqce  in  America^  when  he  was  not  empldyed-^tf 
an  itinerant  preacher,  Which  wa^  impossible  in  wioter,'Ud 
pteadwd  every  Sunday  at  Newport,  where  was  thi^  dt&te%i 
Episcopal  church,  and  16  that  church  he  gave  an-  organ; 
When  the  seiUMm,  and  his  health  permitted,  he  visited  th^ 
neighbouring  continent,  and  penetrated  ht  ihto  the  inte- 
rior, bavmg  his  mind  constafntly  bent  on  forwarding  (he 
bcoeroleat  vi6«»iirith  which  ^  had  crossed  the  Attantic. 


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88  BERKELEY. 

The  mitsioimriei  from  the  English  Society,  who  resided^ 
within  a  hundred  miles  of  Rhode  Island,  agreed  among 
themselves  to  hold  a  sort  of  synod  at  Dr.  Berkeley's  house, 
twice  in  a  year,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  advantages  of  his 
advice  and  exhortations.  Four  of  those  meetings  were  ac- 
cordingly held.  He  was  uniformly  anxious  to  impress  upon 
theminds  of  the  missionaries,  the  necessity  and  advantage  of 
conciliating  by  all  means  the  affections  of  their  hearers,  and 
persons  of  other  religious  persuasions.  In  his  own  example 
he  exhibited,  in  a  remarkable  degree,  the  mildness  and 
benevolence  becoming  a  christian :  and  the  sole  bent  of  his 
mind  seemed  to  be,  to  relieve  distress  and  diffuse  happiness 
to  all  around  him.  Before  leaving  America,  he  gave  a  farm 
of  ahundred  acres,  which  lay  round  his  house,  and  his  house- 
itself,  as  a  benefttction  to  Yale  and  Haward  Colleges ;  and  the 
value  of  that  land,  then  not  insignificant  because  cultivated, 
became  afterwards  very  considerable.  He  also  gave  much 
of  his  own  property  to  one  of  these  colleges,  and  to  several 
missionaries  books  to  the  value  of  5001.  To  the  other 
college  he  gave  a  large  collection  of  books,  purchased  by 
others,  and  trusted  to  his  disposaL  He  took  a  reluctant 
leave  of  a  country  where  the  name  of  Berkeley  was  long 
revered,  more  than  that  of  any  other  European.  On  his 
return  to  England,  he  restored  all  the  private  subscriptions 
which  had  been  advanced,  in  furtherance  of  his  plan. 

In  1732  he  published  his  Minute  Philosopher,"  a  work 
of  great  talent,  and  at  once  amusing  and  instructive.  It 
consists  of  a  series  of  dialogues,  in  the  manner  of  Plato, 
in  which  he  attacks  with  most  complete  success,  the 
various  systems  of  atheism,  fatalism,  and  scepticism.  He 
pursues  the  freethinker  through  the  various  characters  of 
atheist,  libertine,  enthusiast,  scorner,  critic,  metaphysician, 
fatalist,  and  sceptic,  and  shews  in  a  most  agreeable  and 
convincing  manner  the  folly  of  his  principles,  and  the 
injury  they  do  to  himself  and  society. 

Of  the  company  which  at  this  time  engaged  in  the  philo- 
sophical conversations  which  were  carried  on  in  presence  of 


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BERKBLEY.  8d 

Queen  Caroline,  according  to  a  practice  which  had  com- 
nenced  when  she  was  Princess  of  Wales,  some  of  the  prin- 
dpal  persons  were  Doctors  Clarke,  Hoadlej,  Berkeley,  and 
Sherlock.    The  debates  which  occarred  were  chiefly  con^- 
ducted  by  Clarke  and  Berkeley,  and  Hoadley  adhered  to  the 
£Dnner,and  Sherlock  to  the  latter.  Hoadley  affected  to  con* 
sider  the  immaterial  system  of  Berkeley,  and  his  scheme  of 
founding  a  college  at  Bermuda  as  satisfactory  proofs  of 
hu  heing  a  visk>nary.    Dr.  Sherlock  carried  a  copy  of  the 
''  Minute  Philosopher"  to  the  Queen ;  and  left  it  to  her 
majesty  to  decide,  if  such  a  work  could  ha?e  been  pro* 
dttced  by  a  man  of  a  disordered  nnderstandmg.    The 
Queen  honoured  Berkeley  by  admitting  him  to  frequent 
visits,  and  took  much  pleasure  in  his  conversation  on  sub- 
jects relating  to  America.    That  discerning  princess  had 
sudi  a  value  for  lum,  that  on  a  vacancy  in  the  deanery  of 
Deny,  he  was  nmninated  to  it;  but  as  Lord  Burlington 
had  neglected  to  give  proper  notice  in  time  to  the  Duke 
of  Dorset,  then  lord-Ueutenant,  and  to  obtain  bis  con* 
cnrrence,  the  Duke  was  offended,  and  the  appointment  was 
not  urged  any  further.    Her  majesty,  however,  did  not 
lose  sight  of  Dr.  Berkeley's  interests,  and  declared,  that  as 
he  could  not  be  made  a  ''  dean"  in  Ireland,  he  should  be 
made  a ''bishop;"  and  accordingly,  on  a  vacancy  in  the 
vee  of  Qoyne,  in  March  1733,  he  was  promoted  by  letters 
patent  to  ths^  bishopric,  and  consecrated  at  St.  Paul's 
Church,  in  Dublin,  by  Theophilus  Arcbbbhop  of  Cashel, 
and  by  the  Bishops  of  Raphoe  and  Killaloe    His  lordship 
attended  diligently  to  the  duties  of  his  episcopal  office; 
revived  the  useful  office  of  rural  dean,  which  had  gone 
into  disuse;  visited  frequently  the  different  parishes,  and 
confirmed  in  several  parts  of  his  see.    He  constantly 
resided  at  his  manse-house  at  Cloyne,  except  one  winter 
that  he  attended  the  business  of  parliament  at  Dublin* 
He  was  anxious  to  promote  the  industry,  and  advance  the 
prosperity  of  the  remote  part  of  the  country  from  which 
he  derived  his  revenues,  and  wonld  purchase  nothing  for 


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00  BBRKELBY. 

1ms  AMoily  faiii  what .  was  -  boo^t  within  his  dioosiitf, 
Whea  Plutarch  was.  asked  why  he  lesided  in  hi^  natiwc 
towQf  so  obscure  aod  snhJl,  be  replied,  '5 1  stay  lest  it 
sbould.grow  less.''  Bishop  Bcrkekjr  was  actuated  by  a 
similar  feeling^  which  we  could  wish  were  Stroagly  inl* 
pressed  on  the  breasts  of  every  Irishmau  of  rauk  a&d  for^ 
tuneiy  and  that  they  would  reside  in  their  own  couucry, 
encourage  it  by  the  expenditure  of  their  fortune^  impro^ 
the  .morid  and  peaceable  habits  of  the  people  by  their 
extiiQplc^  ^  be  a  terror  to  them  thdt  do  erit,  aod  a  prais'i^ 
lo  thew  Ihat  do  well." 

The  active  mind  of  Bishop  Berkeley  even  in  this  retiro* 
menf I  oouid  not  slumber :  he  contiuued  bis  studies  with 
udoeasing  appiication :  and  a  circumstance  which  occurred 
bmJongst  his  friends  engaged  him  in  a  controTursy  with^^ 
malkeauiticiaBs.  Mr.  Addison  had  some  yearn  bcferu 
giren  hias  an  account  of  the  behaviour  of  their  commoti 
friend^  Dr«  Garth,  in  his  last  illness,  which  was  e^uaUy 
distressing  to  both  these  advocates  of  revealed  r^gionr; 
for  when  Mr  Addison  went  to  see  the  doctor,  and  begtftt 
to  talk  to  him  seriously  of  another  work! ;  **  Sanely,  Addi«* 
son,"^  replied  he,  ^'  I  have  good  reason  not  to  beU«ire  these 
trifles^  since  my  firiead  Dr.  Halley,  who  has  dealt  so  much 
isidem(pnstratk>n,  has  assured  me,  that  the  doctrines  of 
ChristiilBicy  are  incooprehenMble,  and  the  religion  itself 
aas  imposture.'*  Bishop  Berkeley  therefore  addressed  to 
bia^  as  l»  an  infidel  mathematician,  a  discourse  entitled 
the '' Analyst,"  in  order  to  shew  that  mysterite  in  faifh 
If  era  un}i|$tly  objected  to  by  mathematicians,  since  they 
tbeoiselvea  admitted  greater  mysteries  in  their  science, 
and  even  falsehoods,  of  which  the  bishop ' attempted  to 
shew  that  the  doctrine  of  fluxions  famished  anexsmple^ 
Various  papers  were  written  on  the  subject  of  flaxloti9> 
aod  the  chief  answer  to  the  bishop  was  by  Phrhdethes 
eamabrigiensis,  generally  sfupposed  to*  have  been  Ih. 
jiurin,  who  published  a  treatise,  called  ^Geometry  no 
Friend  to  lofid^ty/'   1794.    In  reply  to  this  apj^eared 


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<'4  l>efeaoe  4»f,FjB^tJ^ipkiQg  in  A(ta|l)em^tic9»'*  179$» 
wbicb  drew  fr0Bi  PUlaktbes  a  secood  work^i^'  TM  lyiinp^^ 
Matbematiciitti ;  or,  tbe  Freetbiqk^rjpQ;  Just  Tfaii^c^/; 
Here  this  cootroveraj  eadod,  in  'which  it  is  clear  tb^ 
bishc^  had  <  tb^  worsU  Matbepiaticfd  science  is,  boweTe^^ 
highly  obligtd  to  him,  as  the  dispute  ealled  ioto  ^^tiixi 
the  taleou  of  M£^?lattriO|  wb^sc^:  treatise  od  flqxipqf  ^^^ 
^na  the  doctt-ige  wiiih  morf}  fMJ.i;vQSs  apd  pij^cjsif^^  |bM 
ever  it  was  hef^fi,  or  perhaps  ever  might  bavebsfi^  if  im^ 
attack  bad  b^omade  upoa  it.  ;;,, 

The  iater^at  which  be  £eljt  ia  ijl  tbs(t  cono^aed  the 
bafipiness  of  manlciiid,  kept.hm  mind  la  bis  re^^mc^i^ 
engaged  on  the  events  occurring  in  the  world,  and  indiif^fi^ 
him  to  pablisl^  in  173^,  tbe  ''Qaerist^'  and  in  1736^ 
"  A  Discourse  addressed  to  M^rtrales/'  occasion^  by. 
tbeenormoos  lioentiouinesa  of  tbe  times;  asalsp;  varioui 
smaller  tcacts. 

In  1 745^  daring  the  time  of  tbe  reb^Koa  in  Scotland,  he 
published  a  letter  to  the  Roman  catholics  of  bis  diocese; 
and,  in  1749i  anotlier  to  the  clergy  of  that  persuasion  in 
Ireland;  which  letter,  from  its  caiMilour,  moderation^  pmd 
good  sense,  bad  so  striking  an  effect  on  tbe  gentL^mea  to. 
whom  lit  Was  addressed,  that  they  returned  him  their 
public  thanks  for  the  same  ia  terms  of  the  highest 
admicatioa  of  bis  jcbrislian  charity »  disoerAmenti .  and 
patriotism*  .  . 

TJie  disinterested  spirit  of  Bishop  Beiiceley.. would,  not 
allow  bim  to  look  forward  to  any  farther  pronlption  in  tbe 
church,  after  he  was  appointed  to  tbe.dioceseof.  Cloybe^ 
He  declared  to  Mrs.  Berkeley,,  that  bis  intention  was. 
never  to  ehaoge  bis  see,  because^as  be  afterwards  .ooofeased 
to  .tbe  Aidnbiabop  of  Tuam,  and  tbe  late  Earl  of  Shannoo^ 
be  had  very  early  in  life  got  tbe  world  under  bis  feet^  and 
be  hoped  to  trample  on  it  to  hb  last  moments.  He  was 
mnch  }Nressed  by  his  friends  to  think  of  a  translation ;  bot 
be  thought  such  a stefn  wrong  in  a  bishop:  and  it  afforded 


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gi  BERKELEY. 

an  opportunity  to  the  world  (which  has  not  much  fmth  in 
clerical  disinterestedness)  to  suspect  him^  of  mercenary 
views.  When  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield  sought  out  Bishop 
Berkeley,  and  pressed  him  to  accept  the  vacant  bishopric 
of  Clogher,  of  much  higher  annual  value,  and  where  he 
was  told  he  might  immediately  receive  fines  to  the  amount 
of  ten  thousand  pounds,  he  consulted  Mrs.  Berkeley,  and 
with  her  full  approbation  declined  the  valuable  offer^  as 
well  as  that  which  had  accompanied  it,  of  any  other  see 
which  might  become  vacant  during  Lord  Chesterfield's 
administration.  The  primacy  was  vacant  before  the  expi- 
ration of  that  period,  and  he  said,  ^  I  desire  to  add  one 
more  to  the  list  of  churchmen,  who  are  evidently  dead  to 
ambition,  and  to  avarice.^  He  had  long  before  that  time 
given  a  decisive  proof  of  this  exalted  feeling;  for  when 
before  his  departure  for  America,  Queen  Caroline  had 
tempted  him  with  the  offer  of  an  English  mitre,  he  assured 
her  majesty  in  reply,  that  he  chose  rather  to  be  president 
of  St.  Paul's  college  in  Bermuda,  than  primate  of  all 
England. 

If  indeed  we  may  consider  hin^  as  having  any  remark- 
able failing,  it  was  a  want  of  ambition,  and  too  great  a 
love  of  learned  retirement,  which  prevented  him  from 
rising  to  a  more  eminent  station,  where  he  might  have 
had  more  influence,  and  been  of  more  service  to  mankind 
in  the  active  duties  of  life.  This  induced  him  in  175%  to 
wish  to  retire  to  Oxford  to  superintend  the  education  of 
his  son :  and  having  a  dear  sense  of  the  impropriety  of  a 
bisfaop'a  non-residence  in  his  diocese,  he  endeavoured  to 
obtain  an  exchange  of  his  see  for  some  canonry  or  head- 
ship at  Oxford.  Failing  in  this,  he  actually  wrote  over  to 
the  secretary  of  state,  for  permission  to  resign  his  bishop- 
ric, worth  at  that  time  about  1400/.  per  annum. — Sa 
exifaordinary  a  petition  exciting  the  curiosity  of  his  ma- 
jesty, he  made  inquiry,  who  the  man  was  who  had  pre- 
sented it,  and  finding  it  was  his  old  acquiantance.  Dr. 


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BERKELEY.  9fl 

Berkdey,  dediored  be  shoidd  die  a  bishop  in  spite  of  biin* 
jBalf ;  but  gave  bim  foil  liberty  to  reude  where  he  pleased. 
His  last  act  before  he  left  Cloyne^  was  to  settle  SOOJL  from 
the  reTenues  of  bis  lands,  to  be  distrtbated,  yearly,  notil 
his  retara,  amongst  the  poor  hbosekeepers  of  Cloyne^ 
Youghal,  and  Aghadda.  In  July  1752,  be  remoTed  with 
his  lady  and  family  to  Oxford,  where  he  liTed  highly 
respected:  and  whare  he  printed  in  the  same  year,  all  his 
smaller  pieces  in  octavo. 

He  bad  been,  ever  since  1744,  troubled  with  a  nenrous 
cholic,  brought  on  by  his  sedentary  course  of  life;  but 
hwa  which  he  experienced  consideiable  relief  from  drink- 
ing tar-water.  He  wished,  therefore,  to  impart  to  man- 
kind a  knowledge  of  this  simple  and  useful  medicine; 
and  published  a  curious  book|  entitled  **  Sirb;  a  Chain 
of  Philosophical  Reflections  and  Inquiries  concerning  the 
Virtues  of  Tar-water/'  This  work,  he  has  been  heard  to 
declare,  cost  bim  more  pains  than  any  other  in  which  he 
bad  ever  been  ei^^ed.  A  second  edition  appeared  in 
1747»  with  additions  and  emendations ;  and  in  1752,  oame 
out  **  Farther  TThoughts  on  Tar-water."  He  brought  this 
medicine  into  extensive  use,  so  that  it  became  fashionable 
to  drink  it;  and  many  more  virtues  were  ascribed  to  it 
than  the  good  bishop  had  ever  thought  of— -as,  in  the  cure 
of  many  diseases,  the  concurrence  of  the  mind  has  a 
wonderful  and  unknown  mode  of  action;  and  many  bene* 
fidal  effects  may  arise  from  the  use  of  a  medicine  whidi 
its  physical  properties  could  have  little  effect  in  pro*» 
ducing. 

The  bishop  did  not  long  survive  his  removal  to  Oxford, 
for,on  die  Sunday  evening  of  January  14, 1733,  as  he  was  in 
the  midst  of  his  fkmily,  listening  to  the  lesson  on  the  burial 
service,  which  bis  lady  was  reading  to  bim,  be  was  seized 
with  what  was  called  a  palsy  of  the  heart,  and  instantly 
expired.  This  event  was  so  sudden,  that  his  joints  were 
stiff,  and  his  body  cold,  before  it  was  observed ;  as  he  lay 
upon  a  couch,  and  seemed  to  be  asleep,  until  bis  daughter. 


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9«  BEKKELET. 

pretentiiig  to  bioi'dl  ckp  of  tea^  first  perciiVecl' hi»  iDsen* 
ubility^  Whoerer  leads  a  life  like  hitn^  need  be  the  less 
majdoits  at  how  sh^rt  a  warning  it  is  taken  from  him ! 
'  His  remaiois  were  interred  at  Christ  Chforch,  Oxford ; 
where  there  is  an  elegant  marble*  moonment  over  hino, 
wkb  ia  JLadn  inscription  by  Dr.  Markham,  then  head 
master  af  Westminster  «obool,  and  late  Archbishop  of 
York.  .  In  this  inscripti(m  he  is  said  to  ha^re  been  bom 
in  1679,  and  his  age  to  be  73;  whereas  his  brother,  who 
famished  the  pairtibulari  df  his  liCfi^  states  the  year  of  his 
birtl^  to  have  been  16B4,  and  his  age  coofseqaently  69* 

As  toUs  person^  he  was  handsome^  w4th  a  conntenance 
fall  of  meaning  and  benevolence;  he  was  possessed  of 
great  orascalar  stieogth,  and  of  a  robn&t  constitntion 
until  he  impaired  it  by  his  sedentary  and  too  dose  appli* 
catioD  to  his  studies. 

I  The  almost  entfaasiastie  energy  of  his  character,  which 
is. displayed  in  his  public  works,  was  also  apparent  in  hi^ 
private  life  and  in  bis  conversation :  but  notwithstanc^ng 
this  animation  and  spirit^  his  manners  were  invariably  mild, 
iniaffectedi  and  engaging.  At  dojrne  he  generally  rose 
beiaieen  three  andfoarin  the  morning,  and  summoned  bis 
family  to  a  lesson  on  the  bass  viol,  fVom  an  Italian  miEistel' 
whom  he  liberally  kept  for  their  instraction,  though  he 
himself  did  not  possess  an  ^r  for  music.-**He  spent  the 
rest  of  the  moraiag,  and  often  a  great  part  of  the  day  in 
%b»4y*  Pew  persons  were  ever  hek)*  ib  liigher  estimation 
by  tbo^e  who  knew  his  worth,  than  Bishop  Berkeley. 
After  Bishop  Atterbury  had  been  introduced  to  him,  be 
llfited  up  his  hands  in  astonishment,  and  said,  ^  So  much 
abderstanding,>so  much  knowledge,  so  much  innocence, 
ami  such  humility,  1  did  not  think  had  been  the  portion 
bf  Miy  but  angels,  till  I  saw  this  gentleman.'*  This  testi- 
mony may  well  excuse  the  Well-known  Kne  of  his  fi^iend 
Mn  Pope,  in  which  be  ascriber         .     >  '^ 

V.I  *  ' '   . 

*<  To  Berkeley  ev^ry  virtue  ii«4sr  HenTfiV 


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BERKELEY.  9fl 

The  opinioii  4^  At  'world/  as  to  the  Kteriarjr  «titd'  ^Umo* 
phical  character  of  Bishop  Berkeley,  has  long  siMe  been 
settled.  Id  metaphysical  specaiatiooy  hi  early  yoiith  his 
ardour  led  him  to  embrace,  and  to  form  theories  ttH>re 
fancifal  than  just.  Ahhoagh  he  still  retained,  his  par- 
tiality for  the  study  of  Plato,  yet  towards  the  latter  part 
of  his  life,  he  is  said  to  have  doabted  the  solidity  and 
utility  of  his  metaphysical  studies,  and  tnrned  his  attention 
towards  ihose  of  politics  and  medicines,  as  being  of  more 
practical  advantage  to  oiaiikiiid.  Various  learned  liiien,  and 
m  particular  Bishop  Hoadley,  have'censnred  his  work^  as 
corrupting  the  natural  simplicity  c^  ChriBtianit^,^'  by 
Ueqding  it  with  the  tubtilty  and  obtcarity  of  metaphysidi 
and  Mr.  Hume  asserU,  that  <^^  hia  writings  aver  ttie  best 
lesions  of  sceptioism  which  are  to  be  found,  either  among 
the  ancient  or  modern  philosophers-— Bayle  himself  not 
exoepted;"  and  that  ^' all  Hi^  arguments  against  soepcicsas 
well  as  against  atheists  and  freethinkers,  though  other?^ise 
intended^are  in  reality  merely  sceptical,  appears  from  this, 
that  ihet/  admH  of  no  answer,  and  produce  no  tomiiiionJ* 
This  remark  is  not  correct;  and  the  utility  of  his  '^  Minnte 
Philosopher,"  and  several  other  works,  is  certainly  very 
great.  That  his  knowledge  extended  to  the  minutest'otH 
jects,  and  included  the  arts  and  busioess  of  common  life, 
is  testified  by  Dr.  Blackwell  in  his  ^*  Court  of  AugustUB.'* 
The  industry  of  his  research,  and  the  acuteness  of  his  ob-* 
servatioBs,  extended  not  only  to  the  mecha^  lirts,  but  lof 
the  various  departments  of  trade,  agricukure,<aind  niiviga* 
tion;  and  that  be  possessed  poetical  talents  in  an  eminent 
degree,  if  he  had  thought  proper  to  cnhivate  tbem, 
appears  from  his  animated  letters,  which  are  published  in 
the  works  of  Mr.  Pope,  and  also  from  several  doifopositiMa. 
in  verse,  particularly  some  beautiful  stanzas,  written  on  the 
prospect  of  realising  his  benevolent  scheme,  relating  to  his 
coUege  in  Bermuda.  The  classical  romance,  entitled 
^  The  Adventures  of  Signer  Gaudentio  di  Lucca,"  lias  been 


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99  '     BERMIN6HAM. 

froqnaitlj  attribated  to  bim,  but  certainly  was  not  bit 
ooDiposition. 

''The  Workg  of  George  Berkeley,  D.D.  late  Bisbop  of 
Cloyne,  to  whicb  is  added  an  account  of  bis  life,  and 
several  letters,"  &c.  were  pablisbed  in  2  vols.  4to.  in 
1784. 


HON»^«-  JOHN  BERMINGHAM 
Was  the  second  son  of  Francis,  Lord  of  Athnnry,  in  the 
kingdom  of  Ireland,  being  the  twenty-first  who  held  the 
rank  of  baron  in  descent  from  Pierce  de  Bermin^bamy 
summoned  to  parliament  by  the  title  already  stated,  in 
the  reign  of  King  Henry  II.  His  mother  was  the  Lady 
Mary  Nugent,  eldest  daughter  of  Thomas,  Earl  ofWesU 
meath.  The  year  of  his  birth  we  have  not  been  informed  o^ 
nor  are  we  in  possession  of  any  particulars  of  the  early 
part  of  his  life. 

Being  bred  to  the  sea  service,  he  was  appointed  lieu* 
tenant  of  the  Romney ;  from  which  he  was  afterwards 
removed  to  the  Phoenix.  In  the  beginning  of  the  year 
1745  he  commanded  the  Falcon  sloop  of  war;  in  which 
he  captured,  in  the  month  of  February,  close  in  with 
Dunkirk,  a  French  privateer,  of  eight  guns,  called  the 
Union ;  as  be  did  a  second,  of  the  same  force,  in  the 
month  of  March.  On  the  14th  of  May  following,  he  was 
promoted  to  be  captain  of  the  Glasgow  frigate.  He  died, 
accordiog  to  Mr.  Hardy's  account,  on  the  8th  of  May^ 
1746;  but,  in  Lodge's  Irish  Peerage,  he  is  said  to  have 
been  killed  somewhat  earlier,  in  an  engagement  with  a 
French  privateer.  This  assertion  is  in  some  degree  ex- 
plained by  the  following  extract  of  a  letter  from  New- 
castle, dated  May  the  IStb,  1745. 

**  His  majesty's  ship  the  Falcon,  the  honourable  John 
Bermingham  commander,  of  fourteen  six-pounders,  and 
about  seventy  men,  fell  in  last  Tuesday,  off  Flamborough  • 


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/BERNARD.  «7 

Head»  with  a  Ff^neb  privat«er  of  eighteen  i)ine*pouiiiderft, 
fix  six-pouoders,  and  about  two  hundred  men.  The 
Falcon  fought  her  several  glasses ;  but  night  coming  on, 
tbey  both  lay  to,  and  in  the  morning  renewed  the  engage- 
ment ;  when  the  privateer,  having  lost  a  great  many  men, 
ibongfat  proper  to  sheer  off.  The  Fox  man-of-war,  of 
twenty  guns,  soon  after  falling  in  with  the  Falcon,  imme» 
diately  gave  chace  to  the  privateer,  who  had  not  got  out 
of  sight;  so  that  we  expect  shortly  to  have  a  good  account 
of  ber.  The  captain  of  the  Falcon  had  his  leg  shot  off 
above  the  knee  in  the  engagement;  but  none  of  crew 
were  killed,  and  only  two  hurt." 

The  fact  probably  is,  that  he  was  promoted  to  the 
Glasgow  immediately  on  his  arrival  in  port,  as  a  reward 
for  his  gallantry  on  the  preceding  occasion ;  but  did  not 
long  survive  the  wounds  he  sustained  on  the  event  which 
caused  bis  well-deserved  advancement. 


HARRIETT  CATHERINE  BERNARD, 
Countess  op  Bandon:  Her  ladyship  was  the  only 
daughter  of  Richard  Boyle,  second  Earl  of  Shannon,  born 
January  12,  1768,  and  married,  February  12, 1784,  Francis 
Bernard,  Earl  of  Bandon,  by  whom  she  had  eleven  chil- 
dren, of  whom  eight  survive  her.  This  lady*s  excellent 
qualities  threw  a  lustre  on  her  high  descent,  and  a  pecu- 
liar brilliancy  on  her  surrounding  relatives.  In  the  imme- 
diate neighbourhood  of  Castle  Bernard,  she  will  long  be 
gratefully  and  affectionately  remembered  for  her  muni- 
Scent  charities.  Her  excellent  understanding  directed 
her  to  the  most  useful  pursuits,  and  in  the  cultivation  of 
botanical  and  agricultural  knowledge,  she  was  induced  to 
forward  many  desirable  undertakings,  and  aided  most 
^essentially  many  of  the  most  useful  establishmenu  in 
Dublin,  as   well  as   the  Cork  Institution  and  Farming 

VOL.  1.  H 


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96  BCRNARD. 

Soeiety  in  the  oeighbonrbood.  Her  {mprovenents  at 
Castle  Bernak'd,  conducted  under  her  immediate  direction, 
are  lufficient  evidefldes  of  the  correctness  of  ber  judg- 
ment ;  and,  in  the  formation  of  her  valuable  library,  she 
has  left  a  monum^Dt  of  her  taste,  and  a  declaration  of  the 
ptire  fmnciples  of  her  heart.  By  her  sole  boufnty  she 
supported  for  many  years  a  school  for  twenty-4bur  young 
women,  now  united  to  the  general  school  of  Bandon,  of 
which  she  was  the  patroness  a6d  foundress,  and  which  is 
conducted  on  such  an  ample  scale  of  liberality,  as  would 
do  tredit  to  any  place  in  the  United  Kingdom.  She 
**  delivered  the  poor  that  cried,  and  the  fetberkss  and  him 
thki  heA  none  to  help  him;  she  caused  the  widow's  heart 
to  sing  for  joy,  and  the  blessing  of  him  that  was  ready  to 
perish,  came  upon  her.''  She  died  itt  her  48th  year. — 
Her  death  appears  to  have  been  accelerated  by  the  sus- 
ceptible feelings  of  maternal  tenderness,  in  the  anxiety  for 
the  fate  of  a  much- loved  son,  who  fell  in  Portugal  in  the 
24th  year  of  his  age.  She  expired  before  that  event  was 
confirmed,  and  the  following  inscription  to  her  memory 
was  engraved  on  a  monument  erected  in  the  church  of 
Ballymodan,  in  the  county  of  Cort. 

'^  Near  this  place  are  deposited  the  mortal  remains  of 
Harriett  Catherine,  Countess  of  Bandon,  daughter  of 
Richard,  Earl  of  Shannon,  and  wife  of  Francis,  Earl  of 
Bandon,  by  whom  this  monument  is  erected.  In  her  the 
dignified  graces  of  superior  life  were,  by  a  rare  felicity  of 
combination,  united  with  the  unremitting  exercise  of  vir^ 
tues  truly  christian.  May  her  unaffected  piety,  conjugal 
affection,  parental  tenderness,  and  charity  alive  to  every 
call  of  distress,  prove  as  beneficial  in  their  example  as 
diey  have  been  lamented  in  their  less !  She  died  at  Castle 
Bernard,  on  the  7th  of  July,  1815,  in  the  48th  year  of  her 
age.'' 

The  same  monument  is  also  destined  to  record  the 
memory  of  two  of  her  sons,  the  Honourable  Francis 


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BICKERSTAFF.  09 

Banardy  Ii^«tenant  of  the  9tb  Light  Omgoooes,  HrhiQ  d«e4 
10  Portugal,  ID  the  senrice  of  hi8  coonlry,  the  24tb  of 
January,  1613,  id  the  24th  year  of  hit  age;  and  the 
Honourable  HeDry  JBoyle  Beraar d,  comet  of  the  KMig> 
Dragoon  Guards,  who  gloriously  feU  ia  the  battle  of 
Waterloo,  od  the  18th  of  June,  1815,  in  the  Idth  year 
of  his  age. 


ISAAC  BICKERSTAFF, 

A  DRAMATIST  of  oittch  higentiity,  was  horn  in  Dublin 
about  the  year  1732.  His  father  held  the  situation  of 
groom  porter  in  the  Castle,  which  place  was  libolished 
during  the  lord4iaii4eiiancy  of  Lord  Chesterfield  iti  1745. 
The  services  of  the  father,  however,  were  rewarded  with  a 
pension,  and  the  son  Isaac  was  jaiade.  a  p^.  After  tlie 
dcfarture  of  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  Bickerataff  got  a 
coouDission  in  a  marine  corps,  which  it  is  said  he  left  ia 
disgrace.  Notwithstanding,  he  continued  to  write  for  the 
stage  for  several  years,  when  in  all  probability  the  chaise 
was  renewed  by  bis  enemies,  which  dro^re  him  at  last  into 
banishment. 

He  was  known  to  be  living  in  obscurity  in  Lendoo  in 
1811,  but  be  is  supposed  to  have  died  towards  the  close  of 
the  year  18  lO. 

Bickerstaff 's  <'  Love  in  «  Village,'*  and  ^  Liooel  and 
Clarissa,"  akled  by  the  debgfatful  music  of  Doctor  Aniie, 
stiU  keep  possession  of  the  >stage ;  but  the  most  popular  of 
his  producdoDS  is  his  alteration  from  the  Nonjuror  of 
Cibber,  mn  imiution  of  the  Tartufie  of  Moli^re,  enti- 
tied  ''  The  Hypocrite."  This  eomedy,  from  the  adwirable 
•it«ati<His  it  aiSbrds  for  the  actors,  independent  of  tbe  sar- 
castic humour  that  runs  throughout  it  against  the  pntan' 
ders  to  religion,  has  been,  «id  ever  Will  be^  a  distingatsberi 
fiiTOurite  with  the  public 

As  a  song  writer,  Bickerstaff  €»Dnot  be  allowed  to  rani 


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100  BIRMINGHAM. 

very  high ;  for  although  possessed  of  the  art  of  jingling  bis 
lines  well  together,  yet  they  are  always  mawkish  and 
insipid ;  and  the  following  may  fairly  be  instanced  as  a 
proof  of  that  assertion,  and  a  specimen  of  the  author's 
powers  of  versification  :— 

^  Oh  f  had  I  been  bj  fiite  decreed 
Some  humble  cottage  swain, 
In  fair  Rosetta's  aigbt  to  feed 
My  sheep  upon  the  plain,  • 

What  buss  had  I  been  born  to  taste. 
Which  now  I  ne'er  must  know; 
Ye  envioQS  powers !  why  have  ye  plac'd 
My  fair  one's  lot  so  low  ?" 

Lots  ih  a  Villaob. 

Far  be  it,  however,  from  us  to  insinuate,  that  even  Bick- 
erstaff  has  been  outdone  in  dramatic  song-writing  of  late 
years ;  no,  with  the  exception  of  those  casual  fits  of  good 
nature  with  which  the  managers  are  seized,  (about  as  often 
as  light  occurs  at  the  Poles,)  and  we  are  treated  with  one 
of  the  heart-cheering  efiiisions  of  Bums  or  Moore ;  we 
have  just  as  much  affectatiouy  stupidity,  and  sickly  sensi- 
bility as  heretofore. 


SiE  JOHN  BIRMINGHAM, 

Aftbrwards  created  Earl  of  Louth,  made  an  important 
figure  in  Ireland  in  the  time  of  Edward  II.  After  the 
disastrous  battle  of  Bannockburn,  the  Scots  not  only  made 
many  irruptions  into  England,  committing  terrible  devas- 
tations, but  also  united  with  a  party  in  Ireland,  who  chose 
for  their  king,  Edward  Bruce,  brother  of  Robert,  king  of 
Scotland,  and  had  him  crowned  at  Knocknemelan,  near 
Dunkald*  Against  these  Sir  John  Birmingham  was  ap- 
pointed general,  and  by  his  valour  and  military  skill,  put 
an  end  to  the  war,  and  to  a  civil  faction,  which,  though 
too  weak  to  hope  for  complete  success,  might  yet  have 


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BLACK.  101 

for  many  years  dbtorbed  the  peace  and  happioess  of  the 
Jdogdom.  After  the  death  of  Edwatd  Bruce^  he  agaia 
eocouDtered  the  Scots,  and  defeated  their  army  with  a 
very  great  slaughter.  Id  reward  of  his  services,  hib  was 
created  Earl  of  Loath,  and  had  lands  bestowed  upon  him 
to  support  his  rank*  He  afterwards  suppressed  various 
faaodittiy  who,  with  the  aid  of  the  Scots^were  harassing  the 
kingdom.  He  manifested  his  regard  for  religion  in  the 
manner  of  that  age,  by  founding  the  Franciscan  Friary  of 
Tbetnay,  in  King's  CJonnty.  He  was  afterwards  mur« 
dered  by  a  combination  of  families,  who  bated  his  virtues^ 
and  envied  his  honours  and  possessions. 


JOSEPH  BLACK. 

It  would  be  an  act  of  flagrant  injustice,  not  only  to  the 
individual,  but  to  posterity,  to  exclude  the  imperishable 
name  of  Black,  from  the  trivial  circumstance  of  Ireland 
not  having  been  the  spot  of  his  birth :  a  chemist^  th^ 
mere  record  of  whose  discoveries  is  sufficient  to  entitle 
him  both  to  the  admiration  and  esteem  of  all  succeeding 
ages. 

He  was  born  in  France  on  the  banks  of  the  Garonne"*^, 
in  1728.  His  father,  Mr.  John  Black,  was  a  native  of 
Belfast,  and  descended  from  a  Scotch  faniily  which  ba4 
been  settled  there  for  many  years.  His  connections  with 
the  wine  trade  induced  him  to  reside  at  Bourdeaux,  where 
he  formed  a  matrimonial  connection  with  a  daughter  of 
Mr.  Robert  Gordon,  of  the  family  of  Halhead,  in  Aber* 
deenshire,  who  was  also  engaged  in  the  same  trade  at  that 
place.  Mr.  Black  was  a  man  of  considerable  information^ 
which  he  communicated  with  so  much  candour  and  libe- 
rality, that  his  acquaintance  and  conversation  were  eagerly 

*  Wakb,  however  (in  his  History  of  Dnblin)  states,  **  that  it  is  generally 
Mirred  that  Belfast  WM  the  place  of  his  birth." 


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^oe  BLACK. 

soQgfafe  dfter  ky  maay  of  the  fii^t  Kteralry  characters  of  the 
tonntrj  id  whieh  he  had  fixed  his  abodei  Among  others 
who  esteeitied  binl  as  a  firieod  and  companion^  may  be 
inetitioned  the  celebrated  president  Moatesquteo,  whose 
itrbng  piutiaiity  for  the  laws  and  constitutioB  of  £aglatid^ 
wafii  owing,  in  $  great  meastire,  to  the  information  derived 
firdm  this  gentlemah,  and  who^  on  Mr.  Black's  retiring 
iVoiil  trade  to  bis  native  country,  expressed  the  most 
friei]idly  senttmeftU  of  regret  for  the  loss  he  was  about  to 
sustain^  in  several  letters  which  are  still  preserved  by  that 
genll«ttian's  family. 

The  earlier  years  of  the  life  of  Joseph  Black  were 
passed  at  his  father's  house  at  Bourdeaux,  where  he  was 
attended  by  proper  masters  to  instruct  him  in  the  rudi- 
ments of  the  usual  bi;anicbea  of  education.  His  father^ 
however,  desirous  that  he  should  be  educated  as  a  British 
subject^  seht  him  at  the  age  of  twelve  to  Belfast,  where 
he  continued  till  1746.  Being  now  required  to  make 
choice  of  a  profession,  he  preferred  that  of  medicine, 
th^  studies  connected  with  that  science  being  most  con- 
genial to  bis  dispo^tion.  In  consequence  of  this  deter- 
mination, he  was  sent  at  the  age  of  eighteen  to  the  uni- 
versity of  Glasgow,  where  he  arrived  and  commenced  his 
studies  at  the  tune  that  Dr.  Cullen  had  just  entered  on  his 
career  as  professor  of  chemistry.  The  gigantic  powers  of 
mind  which  that  great  mkn  possessed,  quickly  became 
sensible  of  the  fow  state  in  which  chemical  knowledge 
then  existed ;  he  felt  conscious  of  his  strength,  and  en- 
tered the  lists  with  ai)  ardour  which  raised  the  attention 
of  the  students  at  the  university,  and  inspired  them  with 
a  portion  of  that  zeal  for  the  improvement  of  the  science 
with  which  himself  was  actuated. 

Delighted  with  the  study,  which,  under  the  auspices  of 
^s  great  man,  was  gradually  rising  to  the  rank  of  a  liberal 
science;  yeung  Black  attached  himself  with  so  much 
attention  to  the  professor,  that  CuUb%  who  took  grea^ 


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plcfsilie  10  nokioiog  aod  asffiaiijig  tb^  effbrtf  of  his  pi^pil?, 
took  Urn  under  bU  pwitioukur  4irec(!ioo.  Mr*  Black  w«9 
iWwiUi^g  W  UUst  to  the  reporu  of  chemical  processes, 
iiDtU  be  bad  himself  repeated  them;  the  accuracy  and 
dextedt^y  wUh  which  \m  performed  his  expecioients^  toge« 
tb^r  wUb  the  aitachjneot  of  tb^  professor^  caused  him  to 
be  r«gar(kd  as  Culleo's  assMtant,  in  which  capacity  he 
f^equeo^dy  acted,  aqd  bis  experimeots  at  this  early  age 
were  often  referred  to  as  good  aiUbority*  His  note* 
books,  which  are  s^iU  preservedy  point  out  the  compre- 
hensive plan  of  study  wbi/cb  he  had  laid  down  for  himself, 
aiMl  are  particularly  curious,  aa  they  exhibit  the  germs  of 
his  ideasi  and  their  after^progress,  until  they  ripened  into 
(hose  great  discoTeriet  which  produced  so  complete  a 
reTolutioQ  in  chemical  science. 

The  adioa  of  UtfumUriptic$  on  the  human  frame,  at  that 
tupe  excited  great  attenlion,  and  the  professors  in  the 
university  of  Edinborgb  were  much  divided  in  their 
opinions  on  the  subject.  The  pupils  then  engaged  in  their 
studies,  of  course  warmly  entered  into  the.  contest,  and 
when  Black  left  Glasgow  to  finish  his  medical  education 
at  Edii^bmrgfa^  in  1750,  the  diffierencet  of  opinion  weie  at 
their  bdgfau  The  natural  bent  of  his  inclination  engaged 
him  in  the  controversy,  and,  during  his  residence  at  the 
house  of  his  coosin<-gejunan,  Mr.  Russell, .  professor  of 
natural  philosophy  in  the  university,  he  entered  into  a 
ooufse  of  experiments  to  investigate  the  cause  otcmaUcUy, 
a  property  in  which  all  the  lithontriptics  then  in  use^ 
agreed.  He  at  firsi  adopted  the  doc)brine  of  the  older 
chemists,  4faa|t  lime,  during  the  burning  of  it,  absorbe 
something  from  the  lire,  which,  entering  inta  combination 
with  it,  renders  caustic  what  was  before  mild  and  inno- 
cuous. Hiis  he  attempted  to  separate,  and  collect  from 
the  caustic  lime,  b«t  without  e£Eect ;  and,  in  the  pjnosecution 
of  bis  eatperimei\ts,  he  found  reason  to  conceive  that  oaus.* 
deity  depended  on  the  removal,  rather  than  the  addition, 
of  soUM  other  substance.  This  suspicion  took  possession  of 


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104  BLACK« 

his  Quiad  in  1752>aiid  he  continued  his  obaervations  till  1 754| 
when  he  published  ^  Dissertatio  Inauguralis  de  Humore 
Acidoa  Cibis  Orto  et  Magnesia  AIba«"  His  observations 
and  reasonings  on  the  subject,  were  more  fully  developed  in 
**  Experiments  upon  Magnesia  Alba,  Quicklime,  and  some 
other  Alkaline  Substances/'  which  were  read  before  the 
Literary  Society  of  Edinburgh,  and  afterwards  inserted 
in  the  second  volume  of  the  Essays  Physical  and  Literary^ 
published  by  that  Society. 

The  experiments  in  this  paper  are  simple,  but  inge-^ 
niously  devised ;  it  is  concise,  yet  perspicuous ;  and  the 
deductions  are  so  Just,  that  it  is  considered  a  most  ex-» 
cellent  model  of  composition,  reasoning,  and  arrangement* 
Thefacts  it  develops  are  now  so  well  known  to  every  one 
as  forming  one  of  the  first  elements  of  chemistry,  that  it 
would  be  unnecessary  to  detail  them,  were  it  not  to  exem* 
plify  the  history  of  the  science  as  far  as  it  relates  to  the 
discovery  of  that  immense  class  of  substances  known  by 
the  name  of  gasses. 

Magnesia  had  hitherto  been  confounded  with  the  other 
absorbent  earths,  being  conceived  to  be  merely  a  rnodifi- 
cation  of  lime.  The  experiments  of  Dr.  Black  proved, 
that  it  was  distinct  from  that  substance ;  and  he  then  pro* 
ceeded  to  investigate  its  affinity  to  acids. 

In  endeavouring  to  convert  magnesia  into  quicklime 
by  fire,  he  discovered  that  a  subtile  part  was  extricated  in 
the  form  of  air,  which  had  been  imprisoned  under  a  solid 
form.  This  accounted  for  the  effervescence  of  magnesia 
with  acids  before,  but  not  after,  calcination.  Calcined 
magnesia,  by  a  very  happily-conceived  experiment,  was 
discovered  to  absorb  from  common  vegetable  alkali 
(potass)  as  much  air  as  it  had  lost  by  exposure  to  fire  ; 
thus  the  same  air  which  was  contained  in  magnesia,  was 
detected  in  alkali,  and  in  limestone  nnburnt.  From  these 
discoveries  the  author  acutely  concluded,  that  the  cause 
of  the  causticity  of  quicklime  was  the  separation  of  the 
above  air  by  fire  from  calcareops  earth ;  and  that  lime 


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BLACK.  105 

became  mild  calcareous  earth  bjr  re-anidng  with  this  airl 
This  theory  was  demonstrated  by  plain  and  incontro* 
Yertible  experiments ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that 
it  should  immediately  supplant  the  then  received  hypo* 
thesis,  that  the  causticity  of  lime  depended  on  the  union 
of  igneous  particles. 

Lime  being  discoTered  to  take  this  air  from  alkalies^ 
and  thereby  render  them  caustic,  the  same  beautiful  theory 
of  causticity  was  extended  to  these  substances,  and  thus 
the  true  reason  of  alkalies  being  reiulered  caustic  by  lime 
was  giveD.  Lime  was  also  observed  to  attract  this  air  from 
magnesia. 

This  air  was  shewn  to  be  different  from  the  common 
atmospheric  air;  and  he  concluded  that  it  was  either 
a  peculiar  species  of  elastic  fluid  dispersed  through  the 
atmospherci  or  aa  exceedingly  subtle  powder.  Thb  newly 
discovered  substance  he  named  Jixed  air;  improperly,  in* 
deed,  as  be  was  himself  aware,  but  the  name  was  naturally 
enough  applied  to  a  sutetance  which  he  looked  upon  as 
having  been  fixed  in  the  substance  of  the  bodies  with 
which  it  was  combined. 

Such  is  a  brief  sketch  of  the  luminous  experiments  of 
Dr.  Black,  by  which  were  demonstrated  the  peculiar  nature 
of  magnesia;  the  existence  of  a  new  species  of  air,  in  mild 
alkalies,  magnesia,  and  calcareous  earth;  the  cause  of  the 
effervescence  of  these  substances  with  acids;  the  cause  of 
the  loss  of  w^ght  in  these  substances  by  acids  or  fire; 
that  the  causticity  of  alkalies  and  lime  depended  on  the 
separation  of  this  new  air;  and  the  relative  afiinities  of  this 
air  to  alkalies  and  earths. 

Important  as  these  fects  were,  considered  merely  as 
belonging  to  the  substance  discovered  and  investigated  by 
Dr.  Black,  they  were  infinitely  more  so,  on  account  of  the 
new  field  they  opened  to  the  view  of  chemical  philosophers, 
of  substances  of  diffisrent  species,  in  a  gaseous  form,  of  which 
tbey  bad  no  idea  before;  the  opinion  of  Hales  and  others 
beings  that  aeriform  matter  was  of  the  same  species  as 


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106  BLACK. 

that  of  the  ieilDiosphere,  under  various  modi£oatioiis.  These 
experijnenU,  at  die  same  time  opened  to  the  view  of  ob- 
servers, the  transition  of  elastic  fluids  to  a  concrete  state, 
by  uniting  to  different  bodies,  and  the  change  from  a  solid 
to  an  elastic  form  on  their  extrication;  and  as  these  elastic 
fluids  were  probably  of  many  species,  it  was  begun  to  be 
considered  that  aeriform  bodies  might  possess  afiioities, 
and  have  as  great  a  share  in  the  composition  of  bodies  as 
acids,  alkalies,  &c.,  of  which,  the  first  instances  had  been 
shewn  by  the  ebofte  paper  of  Dr.  Black. 

This  celebrated  jM'ofessor  in  bis  lectures,  afterwards 
shewed  that  the  inflammable  air  was  totally  different  from 
fixed  air;  but  never  having  puWshed  those  experiments, 
he  has  never  enjoyed  the  honour  of  the  discovery  of  this 
elastic  inflammable  fluid. 

The  first  offipriag  o£  these  discoveries  was,  Brownrigg's 
experiments  on  the  air  of  Pyrmont  water,  ia  wfaicfa  was 
shewa  the  existence  of  th^  fixed  air  discovered  by  Dr. 
Black*  These  were  succeeded  by  the  accurate  and  pro^ 
found  experiments  of  Mr.  Cavendish  on  fixed  and  inflam* 
mable  air,  with  an  excellent  description  of  the  apparatus 
for  cbemkal  experiments  on  aenfocm  bodies.  Dr.  Priestley 
next  extended  the  knowledge  of  pneumatic  phemistry; 
and  the  investigatioti  into  this  branch  of  chemical  pbilo* 
sophy,  soon  after  began  in  Sweden,  Germany,  and  France. 
In  this  latter  country,  the  knowledge  resulting  from  the 
investigation  of  the  properties  of  aerilbrm  bodies,  suggested 
the  new  system  of  chemistry,  so  suUiinely  simple  in  its 
theory;  and  the  fountain  &om  which  it  sprung  was  ^e 
above  set  of  experiments  by  Dr.  Black. 

To  return,  however,  from  this  digression,  in  which  the 
pursuit  of  the  history  of  the  science  has  led  us  away  from 
that  of  the  individual.  In  J  7^5,  Dr.  Cullen  was  removed 
from  the  chemical  chair  at  Glasgow,  to  a  prpfessorship  at 
Edinburgh;  and  the  abilities  which  Black  had  displayed  in 
the  assistance  he  had  aflbrded  to  that  great  man,  together 
witb  bis  recent  and  splendid  discoveries,  pointed  him  out 


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BLACK.  107 

as  tbe  fittest  pfenoii  to  socoeed  bis  fonner  teacher.  I|e 
was  therefore  ^ppoiQted  prol«saor  of  chemiitry  and  ana- 
tomy,  io  the  university  of  Glasgow  early  in  the  ensuing 
year;  but  tot  conceiving  himself  soflideotly  qnalified  to 
^undertake  pablic  leclores  on  aaatomy,  he  obtained  the 
coDcarrence  of  the  uniTersity  to  exchange  that  task  with 
tbe  professor  of  osedkine.  His  time  was  now  devoted  to 
delivering  lectures  on  diemistry  and  the  institutes  of 
faedicm?^  and  his  reputation  as  a  professor  increased  every 
year.  Tbe  situation  he  heU,  and  the  anxious  attention 
be  paid  to  bis  patients,  have  been  adduced  to  account  for 
the  little  progress  he  made  in  that  fine  career  of  experi- 
mental investigation,  which  he  bad  so  auspiciously  com- 
menced. This  inactivity  must  be  much  regretted  as  highly 
injurious  to  the  science,  and  it  displayed  an  indolence  or 
^arelessnt^s  of  repatntjon,  not  easily  to  be  justified. 

lie  still,  however,  contiuned  to  pursue  his  chemical  re- 
searches, though  tbey  were  directed  to  a  different  object. 
He  eii^aged  in  a  series  of  experiments  relative  to  heaf, 
whi^  bad  occupied  his  attention  at  intervals,  from  the 
earliest  peripd  qS  his  pbilosophical  investigations.  On 
this  snl^ect  he  prosfecuted  his  inquiries  with  so  much 
success,  as  to  lay  down  aome  primary  axioms,  which  he 
established  beyond  the  power  of  controversy  to  shake 
them.  His  account  of  his  experiments  and  reasoning  on 
this  subject  was  comprised  tn  a  paper  drawn  up  with  his 
usual  accuracy  and  perspicuity,  and  which  was  read, 
AfxH  ^,  I76d,  befpre  a  literary  society,  consisting  of  the 
members  of  the  university,  and  such  gentlemen  as  mani- 
fested a  taste  for  philosophy  and  literature,  and  who  met 
csrery  Friday  in  the  Faculty  Room  of  the  college.  His 
diaoGveries  ia  this  department  of  science  were  perhaps  the 
moat  importalit  he  ever  made,  and  may  be  reckoned 
among  ihe  most  valuable  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  experiments  by  which  his  opinions  on  this  subject 
w€xe  established,  were  at  once  simple  and  decisive;  but  to 
enter  into  the  sabfect  at  sufficient  length  to  ensure  per- 


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)08  BLACK. 

spicuity  would  be  improper*  The  axioms,  however, 
which  he  establiflhecl,  were  uMUtlly  expressed  by  him  in 
the  foUowing  terms : — 

1.  When  a  solid  body  is  cooverted  into  a  fluid,  there 
enters  into  it,  and  unites  with  it,-  a  qnantity  of  heat,  the 
presence  of  which  is  not  indicated  by  the  thermometer ; 
and  this  combination  is  the  cause  of  the  fluidity  which  the 
body  assumes.  On  the  other  hand,  when  a  fluid  body  is 
converted  into  a  solid,  a  quantity  of  heat  separates  from 
it,  the  presence  of  which  was  not  formerly  indicated  by  the 
thermometer;  and  this  separation  is  the  cause  of  the 
solid  form  the  fluid  assumes. 

2.  When  a  liquid  body  is  raised  to  the  boiling  tempe- 
rature by  the  continued  and  copious  application  of  heat, 
its  particles  suddenly  attract  to  themselves  a  great  quan- 
tity of  heat,  and  by  this  combination  their  mutual  relation 
is  so  changed,  that  they  no  longer  attract  each  other,  but 
are  converted  into  an  elastic  fluid  like  air.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  these  elastic  fluids,  either  by  condensation 
or  by  the  application  of  cold  bodies,  are  re-converted  into 
liquids,  they  give  out  a  vast  quantity  of  heat,  the  presence 
of  which  was  not  formerly  indicated  by  the  thermometer. 

Thus  water,  when  it  assumes  the  solid  form,  or  is  con- 
verted into  ice,  gives  out  140^  of  heat;  and  ice,  in  becom- 
ing water,  absorbs  140^  of  heat.  Thus  again,  water  in 
being  converted  into  steam,  absorbs  about  1000^  of  heat, 
without  becoming  sensibly  hotter  than  21^^  The  ther- 
mometer had  long  been  considered  by  chemical  philoso- 
phers as  the  only  method  of  .discovering  the  degree  of 
beat  in  bodies ;  yet  this  instrument  gives  no  indication  of 
the  presence  of  the  140^  of  heat  which  combine  with  ice 
to  convert  it  into  water,  nor  of  the  1000^  which  combine 
with  water  when  it  is  converted  into  steam.  Dr.  Black, 
therefore,  said  that  the  heat  is  concealed  (laitt)  in  the 
water  ai^d  steam,  and  he  briefly  expressed  this  fact  by  ap- 
plying to  the  heat,  in  this  case,  the  term  of  latent  heat. 
It  may,  however,  be  necessary  to  observe,  that  though 


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BLACK.  lOD 

Dr.  Black's  theory  has  been  adopted  by  every  modem 
chemist,  yet  great  difiereDces  have  existed  with  respect  to 
the  quantity  of  heat  thus  absorbed.  This  doctrine  was 
immediately  applkd  by  its  author  to  the  explanation  of  a 
vast  nomber  of  natnral  phenomena,  and  in  his  experimental 
investigations  he  was  greatly  assisted  by  his  two  celebrated 
pupils,  Dr.  Irvine  and  Mr.  Watt;  the  latter  of  these 
gentlemen  afterwards  adding  great  improvements  to  the 
steam«engine  of  Bolton,  from  the  circumstance  of  his  un- 
derstanding so  well  the  theory  of  that  powerful  agent. 

This  theory  was  explained  in  his  lectures  every  year  to 
a  vast  concourse  of  students  from  all  parts  of  Europe;  y^ 
the  criminal  negligence  of  the  author  in  not  favouring  the 
world  with  a  printed  account  of  hb  dbcovery,  has  caused 
the  credit  of  it  to  be  assigned  to  various  persons,  whose 
ideas  on  the  subject  were  obtained  from  him  alone. 

Laplace,  in  his  Investigations  concerningHeat,  published 
many  years  after,  obviously  borrowed  largely  from  Dr. 
Black,  and  indeed  exhibited  little  more  than  the  experi- 
ments which  he  had  suggested.  He,  however,  never 
mentions  Dr.  Black  at  all ;  every  thing  in  his  dissertation 
assumes  the  air  of  originality ;  he  rather  appears  to  have 
tsk&i  some  pains  to  prevent  the  opinions  and  discoveries 
of  our  celebrated  cl^mist  from  being  known  or  attended 
to  by  his  countrymen.  The  observations  of  Dr.  Crawford 
on  the  capacities  of  different  bodies  for  heat,  were  also 
borrowed  in  a  great  measure  from  Dr.  Black,  who  first 
pointed  out  the  proper  method  of  investigating  that 
subject. 

The  most  extraordinary  proceeding,  however,  was  that 
of  De  Luc,  which  exhibits  an  audacity  unparelleled  in  the 
annals  of  scientific  or  literary  plagiarism.  He  expressed 
to  Dr.  Black  his  unbounded  admiration  of  his  beautiful 
theory  of  latent  heat,  and  offered  with  much  zeal  to  be* 
come  his  editor.  Averse  to  trouble  and  exertion,  he  after 
much  difficulty  consented  to  furnish  De  Luc  with  the  ne- 
cessary materials  to  prepare  the  work  for  the  public  eye* 


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110  BLACK. 

At  leiigtb^  in  1788,  De  Lno  pablitbed  \m  ^I^ei  snr  la 
Met6orok)gie;"  and  it  was  iadeed  widi  aitanikfamtet  diat 
Black  and  his  friends  p^rceiVed  the  doctrine  claimed  by 
De  Luc  as  bis  own  disooyery ;  coolly  informing  the  reader 
diat  be  had  great  satiafactioD  in  nnderstanding  that 
Dn  Black  coincided  with  his  opnions ! 

In  1766,  his  friend  Dn  Cullen  being  appointed  professor 
of  medidne  in  the  nniversity  of  Ediaborgb,  a  vaeaocy 
occarred  in  the  chemical  chair,  and  Dr.  Black  was  again 
appoittted  «his  successor  with  general  approbation.  The 
^eat  concourse  of  pupils  which  the  deseryedly  bigh  repu« 
tation  of  that  edebrated  school  of  medicine  brought  to 
iiis  lectures^  was  highly  gratifying  to  a  miud  like  Dr. 
Bfack's,  which  ddighted  in  attracting  attention  to  bis 
AvOmite  science.  As  the  demands  on  his  talents  increased, 
they  became  more  conspicuous  and  more  extensively 
us^L  Impressed  with  a  strong  sense  of  the  importabce 
of  his  duties  as  a  professor,  he  directed  his  whole  attention 
to  his  lectures,  and  his  object  was  to  make  ibem  so  plain, 
that  tbey  should  be  comprehended  by  the  meanest  and 
most  illiterate  capacity  among  bis  hearers;  Never  did 
any  man  succeed  more  completely.  His  pupils  wene  not 
only  instructed,  but  delighted,  and  many  becMne  liis 
pupils  merely  to  be  amused.  This  pleasing  s^le,  and  die 
nmmerous  and  weH-conducted  experiments  by  which  he 
illustrated  trery  point  of  tfate  science,  contributed  greatly 
to  extend  the  knowledge  of  chemistry,  and  it  became  in 
Edinburgh  a  necessary  and  fashionable  part  of  the  accom- 
plishment of  a  gentleman. 

This  attention,  however,  to  simplifying  his  lectures 
had  ao  leffiect,  which  peilsaps  was,  on  the  wholes  rather 
unfortunate.  The  improvement  of  the  science  appears  to 
have  been  entirely  laid  aside  by  him.  Perhaps  also  the 
-delicacy  of  his  constitution  precluded  his  exertions.  Hie 
alightest  coM,  the  most  trifling  approach  to  repletion, 
-occasioned  feverishness,  affected  his  breath,  and,  if  not 
-Speedily  removed  by  Relaxation  of  thought  and  gentle 


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BLACK.  Ill 

exercise,  bronght  on  a  ^pitting  of  blood.  His  Daturil  ten^ 
dency  to  these  complaitits  was  materially  increased  by  the 
sedentary  life  to  which  study  confined  him,  and  he  always 
found  them  aggravated  by  intense  thinking.  In  addition 
to  this,  be  was  so  particular  in  his  notions  of  the  manner 
in  which  a  work  intended  for  publication  should  be  exe- 
cuted, that  the  pains  he  took  in  arranging  the  plan  never 
foiled  to  affect  his  health,  and  oblige  him  to  desist.  This- 
completely  prevented  him  from  proceeding  in  what  his 
friends  had  strenuously  recommended,  in  consequence  of' 
the  disingenuous  treatment  he  had  met  with, — an  acoopnt 
of  his  observations  and  discoveries.  As  nh  authoiv  he  is 
known  only  by  his  **  Dissertatio  Inauguralis,'^  which  was 
the  work  of  deity ;  his  **  Experiments  on  Magnesia,''  Sec. 
meationed  above,  which  was  necessary  to  explain  and 
estabttsh  what  he  had  asserted  in  his  inaugural  disser* 
tation.  His  ^'  Observations  on  the  more  ready  Freedng 
of  Water  that  has  been  boiled/'  were  extorted  from  him, 
and  published  in  the  Philosophical  Transactions  for  1774; 
and  the  '^  Analysis  of  the  Waters  of  some  boiling  Springs 
in  Iceland,"  which  exhibits  much  ability  in  explaining  the 
formation  of  siliceous  earth,  was  written  at  the  request  of 
his  friend  T.  J.  Stanley,  Esq.  and  read  before  the  Royd 
Society  at  Edinburgh,  and  published  by  their  Council. 
These  are  the  only  works  which  have  appeared  from  the 
pen  of  Dr.  Black.  His  lectures  were  published  after  his 
death,  in  1803,  by  his  friend  and  pupil.  Professor  Robisob, 
in  two  volumes,  quarto. 

His  only  apprehension,  we  are  informed,  was  tbat  of  a 
long-continued  sick  bed;  less,  perhaps,  from  any  selfish 
feeling,  than  from  the  consideration  of  the  tronble  and 
distress  which  it  Would  occasion  to  his  friends ;  and  never 
wa&  so  generous  a  wish  more  completely  gratified.  On 
the  26th  of  November,  1799,  in  the  71st  year  of  bis  age, 
he  expired  without  convulsion,  shock,  or  stupor;  sitting  at 
table  with  his  usual  fare,  some  bread,  a  few  prunes,  and  a 
measured  quantity  of  milk  diluted  with  water,  having  the 


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J 12  BLACK. 

cop  in  hh  hands,  and  feeling  the  vital  powers  qnicklj 
•ebbing,  he  set  it  down  on  his  knees,  which  were  joined 
together,  and  kept  it  steady  with  his  hand.  In  this  attitude 
be  expired  without  struggle  or  groan^  or  even  a  writhe  in 
his  countenance ;  and  as  though  an  experiment  had  been 
required  to  prove  to  his  friends  the  facility  with  which  h^ 
departed,  not  a  drop  of  his  drink  was  spilled.  His  servant 
opened  the  door  to  tell  him  that  some  friend  had  left  his 
name,  but  seeing  him  in  that  easy  posture,  supporting  his 
bason  on  his  knees,  he  supposed  that  he  had  fallen  asleep, 
as  he  sometimes  did  after  his  meals.  He  therefore  wen^ 
back  and^9hut  the  door;  but,  before  he  went  down  stairs, 
an  anxiety,  which  he  could  not  account  for,  induced  him 
to  return  again.  He  went  up  pretty  near  to  his  master, 
and  turned  to  go  away  perfectly  satisfied  ;  but  returning 
again  and  coming  close  to  him,  he  found  that  the  vital 
spark  had  fled. 

Such  was  the  end  of  Dr.  Black,  similar  to  bis  life,  mild, 
gentle,  and  easy.  A  man,  whose  singular  suavity  of  man- 
ners and  obligingness  of  disposition,  ensured  him  the 
hearts  of  all  who  knew  him,  and  who  never  lost  a  friend, 
except  by  the  stroke  of  death.  His  appearance  was  inte- 
resting,  and  his  countenance  exhibited  that  expression  of 
inward  satisfaction,  which,  by  giving  ease  to  the  beholder, 
never  fails  to  please.  His  manners  were  unaffected  and 
graceful,  and  he  readily  entered  into  conversation,  whether 
with  th^  man  of  science,  or  with  society  in  general,  in 
which  he  delighted,  for  he  was  beloved  in  it.  He  was 
acquainted  with  all  the  elegant  accomplishments ;  his  ear 
was  highly  musical ;  his  voice  was  fine  and  well-managed ; 
and  he  performed  on  the  flute  with  great  taste  and  feeling* 
He  had  never  studied  drawing  as  an  art,  yet  his  pencil 
possessed  strong  powers  of  expression,  even  approximating 
to  the  talents  of  an  historical  painter.  His  eye,  indeed^ 
was  ever  on  the  alert,  and  even  a  retort  or  a  crucible,  was 
to  him  an  example  of  beauty  or  deformity.  In  business, 
every  thing  was  done  properly  and  correctly,  every  thing 


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BRIEN  BOIRUMHE.  US 

hid  iU  time  appointed  for  it,  and  he  had  always  leisure  in 
store. 

As  a  chemist,  be  deservedly  ranks  high  in  the  estimation 
of  his  brethren;  his  discoveries  were  wonderful  in  them- 
selves, and  immense  in  the  applications  which  have  re* 
salted  from  them.  Yet  we  cannot  avoid  regretting  that 
his  health  or  indolence  prevented  him  from  pursuing  that 
glorious  experimental  career  which  he  opened  to  the  view 
of  others,  adapted  as  he  was  in  every  respect  to  have  ex«. 
tended  our  acquaintance  with  that  art.  His  perspicuity 
in  his  writings  and  lectures  can  never  be  sufficiently 
admired;  his  principles  are  so  clearly  expressed,  that  they 
cannot  be  misunderstood  even  by  ignorance,  nor  mis- 
represented  by  malice.  His  reputation  had  extended  to 
the  continent,  where  he  was  no  less  esteemed  than  in  the 
country  in  which  he  resided  ;  and  he  had  latterly  the 
honour  of  being  appointed  one  of  the  eight  Foreign 
Associates  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Paris,  on 
the  recommendation  of  t'he  celebrated  chemist,  Lavoisier, 
whose  liberality  in  this  respect  is  worthy  of  admiration, 
when  we  consider  the  mean  and  heartless  envy  which  too 
frequently  exists  between  distinguished  literary  and  scien* 
tific  characters. 


BRIEN  BOIRUMHE. 

JLBK  efurlier  pages  of  the  history  of  Ireland  teem  with 
so  many  glorious  instances  of  distinguished  heroes,  com* 
bining  in  themselves  the  united  characters  of  warriors  and 
statesmen,  that  we  have  been  desirous  of  passing  them 
over  in  silence,  lest  their  number  should  add  too  much  to 
the  bulk  of  our  volume.  In  an  undertaking,  however^  of 
this  nature,  it  would,  be.  an  unpardonable  negligence  to 
omit 

^*  Brien— the  glory  aod  gmce  of  his  age." 

A  short  sketch  of  whose  life  will  no  doubt  be  acceptable 

VOL.  I.  1 


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114  BRIEN  50IRUMHiS. 

lo  ifaB  r&de^^  ihoqgh  Amt  beyond  ^  p^wer  of  the  irr ittr 

to  do  justice  to  his  merits. 

Brka  Boirpmhe,  ibe  sop  of  Cinadii  is  <M>aifMited  to 
hava  been  born  in  th^  jrear  806;  mid  p^^s^d  timmgh  the 
ttfual  course  of  edupotioa  opprpprj^ted  ten  tbe  aMs  of  tbt 
Iffiah  kio^p  m  whkh  war,  Uterjetwe,  aod  fM^itiicS)  foroned 
the  .n^^iitry  basis  oo  vbicb  j^  grouftd  tb^  iostruetiotr^ 
tb€  fiMure  nulfei;*  A  c^itf^^  <:tf  studies  «o  p(?6nU«r;}y  %d^\M 
t9  bis  /dJ^pPfiliofi^  toojc  finq  poAsessiosi  of  tb?  Apttl  ^  ^«r 
bfroy  and  bi«  fmure  life  wa^  d^v^ed  tp  the  prm^tiee  ^f 
^^e  eKi3$Jle9i|  1^9<ms  b^  bad  mbibed  W  bis  yomh^ 

{iia  fip|3t<^9say  19  aoA?  mts  in  ibe  q^papUy  p/  geo^aJ  t«i 
hi^  bi^er  Mahwi^  I^iing  lof  Mpritb  M«PsOr,  wbeiA  b^ 
^t|K^y  rp^t^d  a  nfuvieMvs  ai^d  uixsmt  ov^vrb^o^iog 
bpdy  of  the  Danes,  who  had  dared  lo  make  aa  iofcorsioo, 
with  tb^  d^igQ  of  pluadef  iQg  the  oquatry  iipder  bis  pro-* 
^ectioi}.  SpoD  after  this  victory,  on  an  insiirref^tiion  among 
bis  ^Jibjectn^  MaM)  yrm  dispriv^d  of  bis  thrpofs^  aad  hasdly 
murdered ;  but  his  brother  Brien  U)pk  3u/pb  effect^ial 
pie^^r^  tb9^  be  fuoceeded  tg  tbe  tbicoaei  ip  wbi^  bis 
grat  object  was  to  bfi  reitreaged  on  tbe  murderers  of  bis 
brother.  Tbif  b^  jspeedily  and  completely  ieffec|ed»  tbpiigb 
his  enemies  had  called  the  Danes  to  their  assistaaeev 
Victory  again  sat  on  his  sword,  and  peace  crowned  his 
exertions.  He  became,  in  968,  King  of  both  Munsters, 
which  he  cleared  frp^n  thje  jpv^derst  aad  re*established  in 
their  former  privileges.  He  gave  new  vigour  to  the  laws, 
by  tummoning  a  feis  or  parliaaient  at  Cashell ;  aa^  he 
caused  the  ruined  oh^irobes  and  mottaateries  lo  be  rebuild 
and  tbe  bishops  and  die  clergy  to  be  restored  to  their 
liviogs.  His  ann«d  revenue^  as  King  of  Munftter,  was 
immense,  and  ts  calculated  to  give  a  magoificeiit  idea  of 
the  riches  of  Ireland  in  his  time;  a  particular  account  of 
it  ift  cofitaioed  in  ibe  |lieabhar  na  Cleart,  or  Book  of 
Rights,  and  which  O'Halloran  has  translated. 

Domnald,  monarch  of  Ireland,  tired  of  tbe  pageantry  of 
jcoyajty,  quitted  the  thrane  ip  980^  and  Mal^hie  w%s 
chosen  his  successor.    The  jealoilly  with  which  be  x^ 


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BRIEN  BOIRUMHB.  115 

gftfdfd  the  glory  of  Qrien  waa  hereditary,  and  tbelcnow- 
ItdgA  of  liiis  piBobaUy  uidiiocfll  CKEekm  lo  form  a  powerful 
coofedemcy  agaisst  the  King  of  MoMter.  Near  Water- 
Soid  the  araiiet  cogaged;  Brieo,  with  hM  usual  fortuAo^ 
obtaiped  n  ooinplate  victory;  and  the  attempts^  of  bis 
eneniss  to  rmn  his  power,  temiiuiled  in  the  reduction  of 
the  whole  of  southern  Ireland  under  his  power,  by  which 
hf  became  King  of  Leath  Mogha. 

So  signal  a  success  irritated  the  envious  Malachie;  and, 
in  062,  be  invaded  Munster,  and  carried  off  considerable 
founder.  The  ne^t  year,  having  taken  into  his  pay  a 
numerous  body  of  Danes,  he  made  a  fresh  incursion  into 
Leinster.  This  repeated  insult  roused  the  indignation  of 
Brien ;  be  prepared  to  wn^  a  signal  vengeance  on  the 
bead  of  Malnchie,  who,  terrified  at  the  prospect  of  so 
speedy  and  severe  a  retribution,  offered  him  peace,  in 
wiucb  he  engaged  to  make  restitution  for  all  the  damages 
be  had  committed. 

Continually  in  arms  against  the  plundering  and  op- 
pressive Danes,  he  reduced  them  from  a  state  of  indepen- 
dency to  absolute  subjection  )  and  so  benefited  the  country 
at  large,  that  a  cooventiop  of  the  states  of  Conuaugbt  and 
Munster,  contrasting  his  power,  magnanimity  and  justice 
with  the  passive  temporising  spirit  of  Malachie,  agreed  to 
request  Brieo  to  assume  the  monarchy,  and  engaged  to 
support  him  to  their  utmost.  Deputies  were  dispatched 
to  Makobie  to  inform  him  of  their  intention,  and  to  desire 
htm  to  resign  a  throne  be  was  so  ill  qualified  to  fill. 
He  received  the  proposal  with  surprise  and  indignation, 
declaring,  as  he  lived,  be  would  die — Monarch  of  Ireland. 
Brien  was  prepared  for  such  an  answer :  at  the  head  of 
a  large  army  of  veterans  he  marched  to  Tara;  but  Ma- 
lachie representing  that  he  had  not  had  tin^e  to  collect  his  . 
troops,  ^d  requesting  a  month  for  that  purpose,  Brien 
granted  him  his  wish,  on  the  condition,  that,  if,  at  the 
end  or  that  time,  he  were  not  able  to  defend  the  crown, 
be  should  resign  it  into  his  hands.     Ail  the  exertions. 


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1J6  BRIEN  BOIRUMHE. 

however,  of  Malacbie  were  useless ;  the  Princes  of  Leath 
Cain  were  either  too  much  attached  to  Brien,  or  dreaded 
his  power,  and  refused  to  answer  the  summons  of  Mala- 
chie.  On  the  day  appointed,  he  appeared  before  Brien, 
and  surrendered  to  him  the  insignia  of  royalty;  but 
Brien  with  generous  humanity,  allowed  hira  twelve  months 
longer  to  take  measures  to  preserve  them. 

So  liberal  a  behaviour  exeited  no  corresponding  senti- 
ments in  the  breast  of  Malachie;  it  rather  increased  his 
envy  of  that  virtue  which  he  could  not  emulate.  After 
employing  in  vain  every  art  to  form  a  party  against  Brien, 
he  had  the  meanness  to  offer  to  surrender  his  crown  to 
O'Niall,  on  condition  that  he  should  defend  it  against  the 
pretender.  His  offer  was  rejected*  and  he  was  again 
compelled  to  pass  through  the  same  humiliatiug ceremony 
of  surrendering  his  crown  into  the  hands  of  his  enemy ; 
and,  having  given  hostages  for  his  peaceable  behaviour, 
he  retired  to  the  private  situation,  for  which  alone  he  was 
adapted. 

The  reign  of  Brien,  which  commenced  in  the  year 
1001,  presents  a  bright  assemblage  of  every  virtue  which 
€»n  endear  the  heart,  and  every  talent  which  can  adorn 
the  reason.  In  war,  victory  pursued  his  path;  in  peace, 
the  arts  embellished  his  repose.  Property  respected, 
oppression  punished,  religion  venerated,  invasion  crushed, 
literature  encouraged,  and  law  maintained,  were  the  sacred 
characteristics  of  an  age  which  the  historian  records  with 
delight,  and  the  monarch  may  study  with  iniiprovement. 
A  fresh  irruption  of  the  Danes  called  the  venerable  hero 
again  into  action,  and  the  sanguinary  achievement  of 
Clontarf  closed,  at  the  age  of  figkit/^eight,  the  glorious 
career  of  a  sovereign,  whose  '*  hand  was  bent  on  war,  but 
whose  heart  was  for  the  peace  of  Erin  " 

O'Halloran  gives  the  following  curious  description  of 
the  battle  of  Clonurf  :— 

''  At  the  head  of  30,000  men  highly  appointed,  Brien 
marched  into  Leinster,  about  the  beginning  of  April  1014, 


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BRIEN  BOIRUMHE.  117 

io  three  diTisions,  and  was  joined  by  Malachie^  King  of 
Meath.  He  encam  ped,  as  he  had  done  the  year  before,  Dear 
Kilmaioham.    Aod,  after  bodb  armies  viewing  each  other 
for  some  time,  it  was  agreed  on  to  determine  the  fate  of 
Ireland  by  a  general  battle  on  the  plains  of  Clontarf.  Early 
on  the  £Srd  of  April,  being  Good-Friday,  the  Danes  ap- 
peared formed  in  three  separate  bodies  for  battle,  and  by 
their  dispositions  Brien  regulated  his  own.  The  auxiliaries 
from  Sweden  and  Denmark,  consisting  of  12,000  men, 
among  whom  2000  were  heavy  armed,  commanded  by 
Brodar  and  Airgiodal,  formed  the  right  division.  The  left^ 
of  nearly  an  equal  number,  commanded  by  Sitric,  com- 
posed of  the  Danes  of  Ireland  and  their  associates,  and 
the  centre  composed  of  the  flower  of  Leinster,  under  the 
direction  of  Maol-Mordha,  who  acted  as  general  in  chiei^ 
formed  the  enemy's  disposition  of  battle.    It  was  judged 
that,  by  placing  the  troops  in  this  manner,  under  their  own 
leaders,  it  would  raise  a  spirit  of  generous  emulation 
among  them,  and  that  they  would  vie  with  each  other  in 
feats  of  bravery.  The  right  wing  of  the  imperial  army  was 
composed  of  the  household  troops,  filled  up  by  the  prime 
nobility  of  Munster.  The  invincible  tribe  of  Dalgais,  with 
all  the  princes  of  Brien's  Uood,  were  also  of  this  division, 
and  Malachie  with  the  forces  of  Meath.    This  was  to  be 
commanded  by  Morrogh,  and  Sitric,  Prince  of  Ulster.   In 
the  left  wing,  commanded  by  the  King  of  Connaught,  all 
the  Conacian  troops  were  placed ;  but,  as  it  did  not  form 
so  extended  a  line  as  the  enemy's,  several  detachments 
were  added  to  it.    The  troops  of  South  Munster,  under 
their  different  chiefs,  with  those  of  the  Deasies,  formed 
the  central  division.     Brien  rode  through  the  ranks  with 
his  crucifix  iu  one  band,  and  his  drawn  sword  in  the  other. 
He  exhorted  them  as  they  passed  along  to  "do  their  duty 
as  christians  and  soldiers  in  the  cause  of  religion  and  their 
country.    He  reminded  them. of  all  the  distresses  their 
ancestors  were  reduced  to  by  the  perfidious  and  sanguinary 
Danes,  strangers  to  religion  and  humanity.    That  these,, 


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116  BRIEN  BOIRUMH£. 

their  iacc«6tor^  waiced  ioipetiamly  to  renew  the  Mtat 
scenes  of  derasution  and  crtelty^  and  bj  way  of  antiei^ 
pation  (says  he)  they  have  fixed  oo  the  very  day  on  wMeh 
Cbrwt  was  x^racified  to  destroy  the  conntry  of  hii  greatest 
votaries*  But  that  God^  whose  cause  you  are  to  fight,  wiU 
be  present  with  yon,  and  deliver  bis  enemied  into  yoer 
hands/'    So  saying,  he  proceeded  towards  the  centre  to 
lead  bis  troopi  to  action,  bnt  the  cbieft  of  the  army  with 
one  voice  requested  he  would  retii^  from  the  field  of 
battle  oo  acoount  of  bis  extrene  age,  and  leave  to  the 
gallant  Morrogh  the  chief  oommiind.    At  eight  in  the 
morning  the  signal  for  slaughter*  was  given.  The  Daigaif 
with  the  whole  right  wing  marched  to  atuck>  sWord  in 
band|  the  Danes  coaimanded  by  Brodar  and  Airgiodal  r 
but  an  uhoommon  act  of  cowardice  or  treachery  had  like 
to  have  destroyed  the  whole  army,for)  at  this  very  critical 
moment^  Malachie  with  bia  Meathians  retired  suddenly 
from  the  field  of  battle,  leaving  the  rest  of  this  body  ex*^ 
posed  to  a  far  greater  number  of  enemies*    But  Mormgh^ 
with  great  presence  of  mind>  called  out  to  bis  briite  Dal^ 
gaii,  '^  that  this  was  the  time  to  distinguish  tbemselveS)  as 
li^ey  atone  would  have  the  unrivalled  glory  of  cutting  off 
that  formidable  body  of  the  enemy ^"^    And  now,  while 
close  engaged  with  battle-axe,  sword,  and  dagger  on  the 
right,  the  left,  under  the  commend  of  the  King  of  dm* 
naught,  hasten  to  engage  the  Domes  of  Leinster  and  their 
insular  levies,  whilst  the  troops  of  South  Munster  attack 
the  apostate  MaoUMordba  and  his  degenerate  Lagenians* 
Never  was  greater  tmimosity,  perseverance^  and  intrepidity 
displayed  in  any  battle  than  this,  as  every  thing  depended 
on  open  force  and  coun^e.    The  situation  of  the  ground 
admitted  of  no  ambuscade,  and  none  were  used.    They 
fought  man  to  man,  and  breast  to  breast,  and  the  victora 
in  one  rank  fell  victims  in  the  next!    The  officers  and 
generals  performed  prodigies  of  valour.  Morrogb,  his  son 
Turioghy  his  brethren  and  kinsmen,  flew  from  place  to 
phce,  and  every  where  left  the  sanguinary  traces  of  their 


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Bftf£K  fiOlRUMHE.  119 

eotirage  Md  their  (otHiiide.  Tire  ftMrtitud^  displdyed  by 
Moitogh  deferfniiied  Catolas  and  CoMuio),  two  Denies  ef 
dbttbctiod,  to  dttdck  in  eonju Action  thid  princ^e,  slnd  both 
iMi  by  his  sword.  It  wm  obserted,  thaC  he,  with  odier 
chiefs,  had  retired  from  the  battle  more  than  once,  and 
aftef  each  retnrti  seemed  to  be  possessed  of  redoubled 
tbrte.  It  Wat  (o-  ilake  their  thifst  and  cool  thek  bands, 
dwelled  with  the  nse  of  the  sw6rd  and  battte-axe,  in  an 
6rfjt>hfing  brook,  over  which  a  stoall  gaafd  was  placed, 
and  this  the  Danes  ^oon  destroyed.  On  rejohiing  his 
trooptf  dkelast  time,  Sifric-MaC^Lodair,  with  a  body  of 
Banes,  was  making  a  fresh  attack  on  the  Dalgais^him* 
Bfoffdgh  singled  ont,  and  with  a  blow  of  his  battle-axe" 
divided  his  body  in  two  throagh  his  armour!  I'he  other 
Irish  Cbmuiaitders  in  like  mantjer  distmgnished  theni'^ 
selves,  thongh  their  exploits  ar^  not  so  particularly  nar^ 
fitted;  and  it  Wotkld  seem,  from  the  number  of  prim^ 
nobility  that  fell  on  both  sides,  that,  besides  its  beiAg  H 
geneml  biatfe,  the  dtkh  on  each  side  every  where  sitigleif 
dtft  each  other  to  single  Combat. 

The  com^gi^  of  the  Irish  was  not  to  be  subdued.  Till 
liear  four  o^clock  in  the  afternoon  did  the  issue  of  tllef  day 
reumin  doubtful,  and  then  it  was  that  they  made  so  general 
an  attack  upon  the  enemy  that  its  force  Wa^  not  t6  h^ 
resrslerf.  Destftnte  of  leaders,  and  of  course  of  drder,  the 
Danes  gave  way  on  every  side.  -  Mortogh,  at  this  tim<^ 
thtough  the  uncommon  use  and  exertion  of  the  sword 
arm,  bad  both  his  hatid  and  arm  so  sWdle>d  and  paitied  aM 
to  be  unable  to  lift  them  up.  In  this  condition  he  wafii 
assaifed  6word  in  hand,  by  Henry,  a  Danish  pritice ;  but 
Moi^dgb,  dosing  in  upon  him,  seized  him  with  the  left* 
hand,  shook  him  out  of  his  coat  of  mail,  arid  pi'ostrating 
him,  pierced  his  body  widi  his  sword  by  forcing  it^  pum;- 
mel  on  his  breast,  and  pressing  the  weight  of  his  body  on 
it.  In  this  dying  situation  of  Henry,  be  nerertbeless  seized 
the  dagger  which  hung  by  Aforrogh'^  side,  and'  with  it 
gave  him,  at  the  sam^  jmseadt,  a  mortal  wound.  The  D^xiit 


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1£0  BRIEN  BOIRUMHE. 

expired  on  the  spot,  but  Morrogh  lived  till  next  morning, 
employing  the  intermediate  time  in  acts  of  piety  and  de- 
votion; in  making,  says  my  manuscript,  a  general  con* 
fession,  receiving  the  eucharisti  and  dying  as  a  hero  and 
a  christian  skould  die. 

The  confusion  became  general  through  the  Danish  army, 
and  they  Bed  on  every  side.  Corcoran,  one  of  the  mo- 
narch's aides-de-camp,  seeing  the  standard  of  Morrogh 
struck,  for  this  notified  the  fall  of  the  chief,  and  in  the 
general  d^route  unable  to  distinguish  friend  from  foe,  con* 
eluded  that  the  imperial  army  was  defeated.  He  hastily 
entered  the  tent  of  Brien,  who  was  on  his  knees  before  a 
crucifix,  and  requested  he  would  immediately  mount  his 
horse  and  escape,  for  all  was  lost.  **  Do  you,''  said  the 
hero,  **  and  my  other  attendants  By.  It  was  to  conquer 
or  die  I  came  here,  and  my  enemies  shall  not  boast  the 
killing  of  me  by  inglorious  wounds."  So  saying,  he  seized 
bis  sword  and  battle-axe,  his  constant  companions  in  war, 
and  resolutely  waited  the  event.  In  the  general  confusion, 
Brodar  and  a  few  of  his  followers  entered  the  royal  tent. 
He  was  armed  from  head  to  foot,  and  yet  the  gallant  old 
chief  pierced  his  body  through  his  coat  of  mail !  two  more 
of  his  attendants  met  the  same  fate,  and  Brien  received 
*  his  death  by  a  fourth. 

The  intrepid  Sitric,  Prince  of  Ulster,  the  faithful  com- 
panion of  Brien  in  all  his  wars,  was  witness  to  the  death 
of  Morrogh,  and  revenged  it  by  that  of  Plait,  a  Danish 
knight  of  great  intrepidity,  and  by  others  of  less  note. 
Eagerly  pursuing  Brodar  and  his  party,  he  saw  them  enter 
the  tent  of  Brien,  and  cut  to  pieces  the  remains  of  them. 
But  when  he  beheld  the  aged  monarch  extended  on  the 
ground  his  grief  was  extreme.  He  threw  himself  on  the 
dead  body,  the  many  wounds  be  had  received  in  the  battle 
burst  forth  afresh — be  refused  every  assistance,  and  ex- 
pired in  the  arms  of  his  friend  and  faithful  ally. 

Thus  fell  the  immortal  Brien,  one  of  the  most  uniformly 
perfect  characters  that  history  can  produce.    In  twenty-* 


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BRIEN  BOIRUMHE.  \t\ 

fite  different  reocontres,  and  twenty-nine  pitched  battles, 
did  he  engage  his  Danish  and  other  enemies,  and  victory 
always  attended  his  standard!  But  if  he  was  terrible  to  his 
enemies  in  the  field,  he  was  mild  and  merciful  to  them  in 
the  cabinet,  and,  during  his  whole  reign,  a  single  act  of 
cruelty  or  injustice  cannot  be  laid  to  his  charge/' 

We  intended  here  to  have  concluded  this  sketch  of 
Brien,  but  the  following  poetic  effusion  from  the  pen  of 
Moore  claimed  its  insertion : — 

L 

Remember  the  glories  of  Brien  the  braTe, 

Though  the  days  of  the  hero  are  o'er. 
Though  lout  to  MoDooia  *,aDd  cold  io  the  grate, 

He  returns  to  Kmkorat  no  more ! 
That  star  of  the  field,  which  so  often  has  poured 

Its  beam  on  the  battle  is  set. 
But  enough  of  its  glory  remains  on  each  sword, 

To  light  OS  to  victory  yet 

ir. 

Mononiaf  when  nature  embeUish'd  the  tint 

Of  thy  fields,  and  thy  mountains  so  fair. 
Did  she  ever  intend  that  a  tyrant  should  print 

The  footstep  of  slavery  there  ? 
No,  freedom  whose  smile  we  shaU  never  resign. 

Go,  teU  our  invaders  the  Danes, 
That 'tis  sweeter  to  Ueed  for  an  age  at  thy  shrine, 

Than  to  sleep  but  a  nM>ment  in  chains. 

m. 

Forget  not  our  wounded  companions!,  who  stood 

In  the  day  of  distress  by  our  side, 
WhUe  the  moss  of  the  valley  grew  red  with  their  blood, 

lliey  stirred  not,  but  conqoer'd  and  died : 
The  sun,  that  now  blesses  or  arms  with  his  light, 

Saw  tliem  fiiU  upon  Ossory's  plain : 
Oh!  let  him  not  blush,  when  he  leaves  us  to  night, 

To  find  that  they  feU  there  in  vain ! 

•  Mnnster. 

t  The  palace  of  Brien. 

t  This  alludes  to  an  interesting  drcnmstance  related  of  the  DdlgaUp 

the  lavourite  troops  of  Brien,  when  they  were  interrupted  in  their  return 

IhMn  the  batUe  of  Clontarf,  by  Fitt patriek  Prince  of  Ossory.  The  wounded 

men  entreated  that  they  might  be  aOowed  to  fight  with  the  rest  :—*<  1^ 


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im 


Dr.  EDMUND  BORLASE. 

Of  this  skilful  physlciao  and  celebrated  historian  so  few- 
particulars  are  known,  that  we  should  have  been  inclined 
to  have  passed  him  over  in  silence,  bad  not  his  interesting 
account  of  the  great  rebellion  in  1641,  claimed  our  pecu* 
liar  notice.  He  was  the  son  of  Sir  John  Borlase,  master 
of  the  ordnance,  and  one  of  the  lords  justices  of  Ireland. 
He  was  born  in  Dublin,  and  received  his  education  in  the 
university  of  that  city,  and  afterwards  travelled  to  Leyden, 
his  inclination  for  medicine  leading  bim  to  prefer  finish- 
ing his  studies  at  that  place,  which  was  then  the  best 
school  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  that  art*  He  remained 
there  for  sonre  years,  and  took  his  degnee  as  doctor  of 
physic  in  1650,  soon  after  which  he  returned  to  England, 
and  was  admitted  to  the  same  degree  at  Oxford.  At 
length  he  settled  at  Chester,  where  be  continued  till  his 
death  in  1682,  practisii^  his  profet^on  with  great  repu- 
tation and  success*  The  following  may  be  eiMimerated 
among  his  productions ;  **  Latham  Spaw  in  Lancashire ; 
with  some  remarkable  Cases  and  Cares  effected  by 
it,"  London,  1670,  dedicated  to  Cbarles,  Eail  of  Derby. 
<'The  Redu^iofr  of  Irelaml  to  tbeCro^n  af  Eogland; 
with  the  Governors,  since  the  Conquest  by  king  Henry  IL 
anno  1172,  and  some  Passages  in  their  Government.  A 
brief  Account  of  the  Rebellion  Ann.  Dom.  1641.  Also 
the  Original  of  the  University  of  Dublin,  and  the  College 
of  Physicians."  '^  Brief  Reflections  on  the  Earl  of  Castle- 
haven's  Memoirs  of  his  Engagetoeni;  atid  Carriage  in  the 
War  of  Ireland.  By  which  the  Govertiment  of  that  time, 
and  the  Justice  of  the  Crown*  since^  are  vindicated  from 

Mi9kei/*  (they  said)  <<  be  stuck  hHkeg/>mM;  and  nfftr  each  qfui^Hid  U 
tmd  mpported  hy  one  qf  ikeu OalttSf  i»  k$  fdoMti  tn  his  rank  hf  the  mde^a 
^wjul  miti''^^  B^twuti  terwi  wad  eight  Inmdrid  wMnOed  iMiiy"(«dld8 
OFniA<Ma)  **  fttde,  tBuustetedv.  vmA  s«p|f«rte4  in  this  nanDer,  B^pmreA 
nAneH  wttfi  Ae  fmekkmt  tS  the  troop^C-^lVeit^  ww  iMb  mmCImp  a^ 
«]iAlbHefft''*^l«Mtt^Q^/rffaif^hMli  xii  ck  L 


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BORLASE.  123 

Aspcnions  cast  upon  both/'    And  lastly,  his  most  exten- 
sive and  celebrated,  wprk,  **  The  History  of  the  execrable 
Irish  Rebellioti,  traced  from  many  preceding  Acts  to  the 
Oriad  Eraptiott,  October  Q3,  1641 ;  and  thedc6  pursued 
fa  the  Act  of  Settl^mettt  1672.''    Wood  informs  ns  that  • 
maeh  crT  ibis  h  iakM  frotn  ^  The  Iriih  Rebellioa  i  or,  the 
History  of  the  begintiittg  and  ^rst  Progress  of  the  General 
Rebellion  raised  within  the  Kingdom  of  Ireland^  October, 
iS)  1641/  which  wds  written  by  Sir  John  Temple,  master 
6f  the  rolls,  and  one  of  his  majesty's  privy  conncil  in 
Ii^Ahd,  ahd  father  of  the  eeiebrated  Sir  William  Temple. 
Tbe  following  obsertatfons  on  iebis  work  atie  by  Dr. 
Nai»o&>  who  says,  '*  Thiit  besides  the  neaftiess  of  his  rela- 
tiaa  to  one  of  the  lords  justices,  and  his  being  avowedly 
a  favourer  ot  the  faction,  men,  and  actions  of  those  time^, 
be  is  an  author  of  such  strange  inconsistency,  tbat  bis 
book  M  rajher  a  paradox  than  a  history.    And  it  must 
ftaeda  be  so ;  folr  1  know  not  by  what  aecident  the  copy 
of  a  MS.  Written  by  the  Earl  o#  Clanendon,  happening  to 
(all  into  hi»  hands,  he  has  very  unartfuHy  blended  h  with 
his  own  tough  and  unpoHshed  heap  of  matter ;  so  that 
his  book  looks  like  A  eurious  embroidery,  sowed  with 
ooarse  tbread  upon  a  piece  of  sackcloth.    And  truly  had 
ha  no  other  crime  than  that  of  a  plagiary,  it  is  such  a  sort 
of  theft  to  steal  the  child  of  another's  brain,  that  mAy  well 
Mnder  him  suspected  not  to  be  overstocked  with  honesty 
and  justice,  so  necessary  to  the  reputation  of  an  unblemish- 
ed historian ;  but  it  is  far  more  unpardonable  to  castrate 
the  lawful  issue  of  another  man's  pen,  and  thereby  disable 
it  from  propagating  truth,  and  to  teach  it  to  speak  a  lan- 
guage which  the  parent  never  intended.    And  yet  this  is 
the  exact  case  of  Dt.  Borlase's  history,  in  whith  he  has 
taken  great  pains  to  expunge  some,  and  alter  many  pa^- 
Mgev,  which  he  thought  were  too  poignant  against  his 
Avourites,  or  spoke  too  much  in  vindication  of  his  late 
taajesty  and  bis  miprt^ters !" 


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lU 


HUGH,  OE  HUGH  MACAULEY  BOYD, 

An  ingenious  author,  bul  who,  according  to  his  infatuated 
biographer,  the  late  Laurence  Dundas  Campbell,  possessed 
talents  of  sufficient  magnitude  to  have  illuminated  any 
age  or  nation.  He  was  the  second  son  of  Alexander 
Macaulej,  Esq.  of  the  county  of  Antrim,  and  was  bom  in 
,  October  1746,  at  Ballycastle,  in  the  same  county.  Several 
anecdotes  to  prove  the  miraculous  precocity  of  his  talent 
are  related  by  Campbell,  and  we  are  gravely  told  '^  He 
began  to  pun  while  he  was  yet  in  his  childhood ;  and  he 
often  punned  so  aptly,  that  be  both  surprised  and  amused 
his  friends.*'  At  the  age  of  fourteen,  he  was  placed 
in  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  during  which  period,  a 
Mr.  Marten,  a  gentleman  of  similar  perceptions  with 
Mr.  Campbell,  used  to  characterise  him  by  saying,  ^'tbat 
he  united  the  meekness  of  the  lamb  with  the  spirit  of  the 
lion.''  In  1765,  he  took  bis  degree  of  master  of  arts,  and 
bis  grandfather  wished  him  to  enter  the  church;  thi« 
however,  he  declined,  as  the  natural  gallantry  of  his  nature 
indi^ced  him  to  prefer  the  army;  but  bis  father  being  desi- 
rous that  he  should  go  into  the  infantry,  and  he  giving  an 
undutiful  preference  to  the  mare  elevated  service  of  the 
cavalry,  some  delay  in  conseqaence  took  place,  and 
Mr.  Macauley's  death  terminated  the  dispute.  He  left  no 
will,  and  Mr.  Boyd  was  consequently  unprovided  for. 
Disappointed  in  the  dream  of  becoming  a  general,  hie 
consoled  himself  with  the  expectation  of  being  a  judge,-* 
in  other  words,  he  quitted  the  army  for  the  law,  and 
shortly  after  visited  London,  where  he  was  patronised  by 
Mr.  Richard  Burke;  and,  amongst  the  countless  individuals 
who  were  delighted  with  his  wit  and  the  excessroe  splen- 
dour  of  his  talents,  might  be  enumerated  the  celebrated 
Mrs.  Macauley,  to  whose  husband  he  was  related.  But 
we  are  told  "  the  inborn  generosity  of  his  mind,  together 
with  his  exquisite  sensibHitt/^  prompted  him  to  acts  of  bene- 


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BOYD.  125 

volence  which  his  scanty  and  precarions  income  was  ill 
suited  to  supply;  and  before  be  had  been  a  year  in 
London,  he  was  involved  in  pecuniary  entanglements,  from 
which,  alas!  he  was  not  at  any  period  of  his  life  to  be  en- 
tirely released."  But  the  same  magnanimity  which  induced 
him  to  expend  what  he  did  not  possess,  led  him  to  despise 
the  inconveniencies  resulting  from  such  conduct.  His  cre- 
ditors, it  seems,  became  impatient;  but  he  retained  his 
tranquillity,  determined  to  keep  his  temper,  although  he 
should  lose  his  liberty. 

This  habitual  thoughtlessness,  his  biographer  gallantly 
insinuates,  rendered  him  a  distinguished  favourite  among 
the  ladies;  nor  was  he  insensible  of  their  admiration,  as  he 
returned  the  compliment  by  marrying  a  Miss  Morphy,  a 
young  lady  worthy  of  his  super-human  qualifications ;  and, 
as  the  merest  trifle  about  truly  great  characters  is  interest- 
ing, his  biographer  informs  us,  the  courtship  lasted  a  year 
and  some  weeks.  By  this  marriage  his  circumstances 
were  rendered  somewhat  easier,  as  Miss  Morphy*s  amiable 
qualities  and  good  sense,  restrained  that '' inborn  genero- 
sity and  exquisite  sensibility^'  which  he  was  possessed  of 
in  so  eminent  a  degree.  He,  however,  suffered  many 
relapses,  and  ^'frequently  plunged  himself  into  difficulties 
to  save  the  credit  or  relieve  the  distresses  of  the  man  he 
loved/'  His  friends,  however,  began  to  think  it  was  high 
time  this  period  of  capacious  philanthropy  should  come 
to  afuli  stop  ;  he  was  therefore  recommended  to  his  coun- 
tryman. Lord  Macartney,  and  on  his  lordship's  nomination 
to  the  government  of  Madras,  he  appointed  Boyd  his 
second  secretary.  He  sailed  accordingly  with  the  embassy, 
and  arrived  at  Madras  in  the  autumn  of  1781.  After  un- 
dergoing several  vicissitudes^  he  went  for  a  few  months  to 
Calcutta,  where  *'his  talents,  wit,  and  humour,  together 
with  the  suptrkAvoe  sprightliness  of  his  convivial  qualities 
will  be  long  remembered  with  pleasure."  In  February 
1794,  he  advertised  proposals  for  publishing,  by  subscrip- 


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m  Bova 

tiopt  b\$  ''£mhA9»7  to  G^niv ;"  tmt  owiog  to  a  wimt  of 
t^te  wholly  unaocpuutahW,  Uie  #i>b6^ipiioii  did  ooc 
ia;9re$^  fio^^  «Q  rapidly  a»  might  b^v«  befo  e;cp«ctod. 
H^,  howevfr,  pQ^pp^Jled  by  ibia  adverse  cireuoiBtaDot, 
Dodenook  ttw  wvk  with  ^e^l^  an4  oos^dendy  hoped  t» 
fij9i3b  it  wjthiii  9*^  m>nihh  hit  thii  hope  (iwfon«iiatdy 
for  poiterity)  v«u  oever  renjfsed,  oa  A^oM«i  of  bis  deeeate, 
which  occQfred  QO  the  ifitb  of  O^tob^r,  1794,  and  bo  was 
iQterred  in  th^  mw  buryiog  groond  at  Madras* 

"Of  his  person,'*  we  are  told,**  he  vraa  tall  aad  graceful, 
jEonned  with  the  moft  exact  ^ynio^tfy,  bis  mifio  noble  and 
lelevated,  bi$  ooiinteiMance  aoUa^^  and  coomiafldiBg,  and 
his  deporunent  exi^edvogly  elegant/' 

$«d)  19  tb^  iif<9  of  Boyd>  a#  wriueo  by  I^uvenoe  Camp- 
bell, and  we  would  have  ivad^  a  few  oiore  extraeta  firoiii 
ity  bad  w?  not  arrir^d  at  a  chapter  on  bis  ^*  laidlactaal 
Ellemf  pta"'  (a?  hi«  biographer  i$  pieaaed  to  tenn  theoi),  we 
iherefore  thought  U  high  time  to  dose  the  Tolume,  with 
the  belief,  that  if  any  eJeqFKMt  leMded  in  bis  intelleet,  it 
was — air. 

That  Boyd  was  aa  author  po^^eiaed  of  »ome  ingeauity, 
we  are  w>t  disppa^d  to  deiiy,  but  that  be  wa&  aoy  thing 
jnprd  would  bP  pwoewhat  diflELcMlt  to  prove  ;  and  we  beg 
the  r?ad«r  (if  he  iiwgia^ft  w#  have  treated  Boyd  with 
iindpe  levity)  to  remember,  that  tbiis  sketch  is  taken  fron 
a  life  written  by  ooo  of  hU  mo»t  lAtimate  fneoda,  evciy 
lioe  of  whi^h  reod^i  both  eoospionoualy  ridiculoaa, 

Boyd*$  Political  Twfltf  w^re  fep<ioted  in  one  Qotaw» 
votum^  with  a  view  toi4stabli$h;ap  f^sertiom  that  Ahnonia 
supposed  to  bavo  b^P  the  ^sit  to  have  made,  porporting 
Mr.  Boyd  to  be  the  author  of  Juoiui.— Weoei^taialyhave 
hpard  the  letter^  of  Jwiu^^^tribBiod  to^veral  iadividoala, 
whose  inqprpparable  vanity  of  b(ead  seemed  their  onlj 
plajm  to  the  distioptiop;  W  o^ver  before  Boyd  va^ 
m^ntioD^d  fiid  we  see  a  fe^blo  imitator  mistaken  for  aa 
origioai  writer. 


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BOYD.  127 

Should,  however,  any  of  our  readers  not  be  conviaced 

that  Mr.  Boyd  was  not  the  author  of  Junius,  we  take  the 

liberty  of  subjoiqiag  the  fcllowiig  lett^,  which  appeared 

IB  the  GeoUenwi's  Mnga^iM  of  Marqh  1914. 

'^  8ir  Jobu  Maopb^rsoo,  Bart*  of  Brpuaptoo  Grove^  19 
both  a  BoiAnd  scholar  wd  a  g^ntiamw  of  sterling  Abilities  1 
and  Sir  John  ouce  rom  a  gov^roor-gen^al  of  Jtvdii^  Hii 
nemplai^x^onrtesy,  Ubctral  tM^pit^lity,  wd  communicative 
disfMBsitiM,  are  well  kupwuu  FroQ^  his  owo  lips  I  bafe 
»y»elf  been  positively  and  distinctly  iufprmed^  that  (jmt 
Mn  Walter  Boyd,  ofdfibmMfm^i  but)  ^ugb  Boyd,  Eaq, 
dedared^  0^re  dwx  vim,  at  $ir  Jobn^p  tahW»  wh^n  the 
jifoYd^j  host  bad  temporarily  retired,  that  ^^Sir  Job«  Miae*- 
pbtrB4Ni  little  fcn^w  he  was  crutertaimog  ip  bis  mausjon  a 
political  wttttr,  whose  sesytin^ao^  were  onpe  the  pcoasian 
i^achiyalreiiis  appeal  from  Sir  J.  tp  arms/'  immediately 
•ddiog/*  I  lu  inn  Author  qv  Junius/' 

Amidst  all  the  cirdes  of  our  JQPuMur  acquaiotance,  we 
have  beard  but  ^ne  wittki^m  uttributed  to  Mr.  Boyd# 
which  (aa  it  is  onr  wish  to  be  as  avn^fiug  93  possible)  wt 
take  the  liberty  of  inserting  -.^rr^Mr.  Boyd  was  once  dining 
with  a  large  party  of  oativ^s  of  **  The  L^d  of  Sain^" 
all  admirers  of  good  dinnersy  good  jokes,  and  good  wines, 
vbea,  after  bawling  partaken  in  ^99le  ^bt  degree  of  the 
fermer,  ihey  proceeded  to  take  i9  ^  mpre  v^hola^  propor** 
liop  of  the  lal^ter,  whiob  having  done,  o^  of  the  ^ompaoy, 
by  way  of  being  i»ore  anmsmg  thw  th^  rest>  lippk  up  a 
decanter,  and  (him$  certmonik)  flung  it  at  the  bead  of  the 
penoQ  thai  sat  facing  bim^'Boydj  bow§ver«  seeing  the 
misttle  thrown,  dexterously  sir^tebed  fmr^i  bis  band,  and 
caught  i%  exQlaiming  at  the  wue  ume»  ^^  B«aJly,  geotle- 
msm,  if  you  send  the  hojttle  abput  iu  Ms  pqjfj  there  will 
Jiot  be  ope  ^f  us  able  to  simd  pr^entjy," 


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128 


RICHARD  BOYLE, 

Cblbbbatbd  for  liis  attachment  to  the  anfortunate 
family  of  the  Stuarts  id  all  their  distresses^  was  bom  at  the 
college  of  Youghall,  on  the  20th  of  October,  1612;  He 
waA  the  second  son  of  Richard  Boyle,  the  great  Earl  of 
Corke,  and  Catherine,  the  only  daughter  of  Sir  Jeffery 
Fenton,  'master  of  the  rolls  for  Ireland ;  of  whose  court- 
ship the  following  account  is  so  curious,  that  we  cannot 
avoid  inserting  it: — One  morning,  paying  a  visit  to  Sir 
Jeffery  Fenton  on  some  business  of  consequence,  that 
gentleman,  being  very  busy  in  looking  over  some  papers, 
did  not  come  down  so  soon  as  usual.  Finding,  however, 
when  he  came  down,  that  Mr.  Boyle  had  waited  for  him, 
be  apologizes  for  his  neglect  very  handsomely,  saying, 
that  had  he  known  he  was  waiting,  he  would  have  come 
down  immediately.  Mr.  Boyle  smiled,  and  told  Sir  Jef- 
fery, that  he  did  not  by  any  means  think  the  time  long, 
having  been  diverting  himself  with  his  pretty  little  daugh* 
ter,  (who  was  then  in  arms,  and  about  two  years  old)  and 
added,  that  he  had  been  courting  her  to  become  his  wife* 
On  this.  Sir  Jeffery  told  him  pleasantly,  that  so  young  a 
widower  would  be  loth  lo  stay  so  long  for  a  wife ;  but 
Mr.  Boyle  seriously  affirmed  he  would,  if  Sir  Jeffery  would 
give  his  consent;  which  he  accordingly  did;  and  they 
both  fulfilled  their  promises.  This  curious  and  appa- 
rently trifling  incident  gave  rise  to  a  connection  which 
afterwards  formed  the  principal  happiness  of  the  life  of 
that  great  man ;  and  from  her  are  descended  the  whole  of 
the  numerous  family  of  the  Boyles,  which  has  since  shone 
with  so  much  lustre  both  in  the  field  and  in  the  senate.  . 

His  earher  years  were  passed  in  the  acquirement  of  use- 
ful knowledge  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Marcombes,  in  which 
he  made  considerable  progress,  as  is  evident  from  the 
qualities  he  afterwards  displayed ;  as  well  as  from  his  re- 
ceiving the  honour  of  knighthood  from  the  hands  of  Lord 


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BOYLE.  1^ 

Fiiftkod,  tbjen  depatjrgeneral  of  Iretaod,  wben  he  was 
under  tw'elve  years  of  age^  he  being  then  Viscount  Dun«p 
gtmuD,  in  confi^uence  of  the  death  of  his  elder  brother 
Roger^  at  nine  years  of  age*  Having  attained  his  twea« 
tieth  jtear,  he  was  sevat, abroad  to  finish,  his  edocationi 
under  tb<  care  of  his  able  and  intelligent;  tutor^  with  ao 
allowAQce  of  1000/:.  per  annum.  He  passed  two  years  in 
his  travels,  having  visited  Flanders^  Francei  and  Italy, 
and  retiinied  home  furnished  with  every  agreeable  accom-> 
plisbment.  On  bis  return,  the  unfortunate  Lord  Went- 
worth,  afterwards  jBarl  of  Sfrafford,  struck  with  his  graceful 
appearanceaad  manly  qualifications^  proposed  to  his  father 
to  form  an  alliance  between  bis  son  and  the  Lady  Elizabeth, 
daughter  and  sole  heiress  ,of  Henry,  Lord  Clifford,  after- 
wards Earl  of  Cumberland.  This  alliance,  which  was  at 
first  retarded  through  some  unforeseen  difficulties,  was  at 
length  concluded,  and  their  marriage  took  place  on  July  5, 
1635.  By  this  connection  he  increased  bis  fortune  and 
extended  bis  interest:  it  introduced  him  to  the  familiar 
acquaintance  of  many  of  the  6rst  persons  at  court,  and  con- 
sequently paved  the  way  for  a  favourable  reception,  which 
was  not  a  little  increased  by  bis  graces  and  accomplishments! 
He  was  favourably  received  by  Charles  L;  and  having 
been  educated  in  the  strictest  loyalty  and  attachment  to 
his  sovereign,  he  strongly  adhered  to  the  interest  of  that 
unfortunate  monarch.  In  the  troubles  of  the  North,  be 
raised  a  troop  of  horse  which  be  intended  to  head,  under 
the  command  of  the  Earl  of  Northumberland ;  an  actioQ 
which  gained  for  him  the  friendship  of  many  persons  gf 
the  greatest  consideration ;  and  when  the  rebellion  broke 
out  in  Ireland,  he  was  oue  of  the  first  in  arms,  to  support 
the  establishment  He  not  only  commanded  troops,  but 
raised  them  himself,  and  following  the  noble  example  of 
his  father,  paid  them  from  the  produce  of  his  own  estate* 
He  did  not,  however,  on  this  account,  treat  them  as  his 
slaves;  be  used  them  as  if  they  had  claimed  a  nearer 
relation  to  him  than  that  created  by  ^rvice;  as  if  they  had 

VOL.  I.  K 


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130  fiOVLS. 

foTined  a  pdrtSon  of  his  (hmity .  Hit  exhortatiMs  to  iftmA 
t^ere  manly  and  kind,  and  he  often  reminded  them^  thai 
th^y  should  Consider  themsdries  Dot  bm  soldiein  of  fintniM^ 
but  a^  men  iwhb  had  taken  up  armtf  solely  ffi^  the  prated 
tibii  of  dieir  country  frbni  her  teternal  fces.  At  thif 
head  of  these  troops  he  Wli^  preset  at  s^teml  isieget  imd 
battles,  parttcttlariy  ii3i  the  ^tebtatt^d  aetibtl  at  Linearrol } 
atrd  such  was  the  ^iFeet  pirodubed  by  hi»  kindness  V6  hU 
tAet^,  that  they  always  distinguished  them^lveb^VAtvei^y 
lfer.vice  in  whrch  they  wer^  engaged. 

He  always  differed  strongly  from  tfcos^  Whd  ihbuight 
tfhat  the  most  successful  way  of  carrying  ow  the  wat  wcfft 
by  irritating  the  cathoHcs;  and  the  cessad^A  wa^  in  «l 
'gte^t  inea:8ure  owing  to  the  excellent  advice  whfch  h6 
gare  to  the  Marquis  of  Omiond.  This  affair  being  com^ 
{)Ieted  in  September  1643,  he  exerted  himself  in  endeisi* 
Voaring  to  procure  for  the  king  that  assistance  wbi^h  he 
Expected  as  the  con^quence  of  his  agreement  to  this  mea^ 
snre;  and  so  great  was  his  zeal  on  this  occasion,  that.  III 
bis  own  request,  his  regiment  was  part  of  th^  Irish  brigade 
kent  to  the  relief  of  his  majesty,  and  Was  comtnted^  by 
^is  lordship  in  person.  On  his  arrival  at  Oxford,  he  wa6 
received  by  Charles  I.  with  fevcry  mark  of  favour  and 
Attention ;  and  even  his  enemies  admired  the  firmtfess  of 
bis  attachment  to  the  fortunes  of  his  sovereign.'  He  HHI 
now  raised  to  the  dignity  of  Baron  Cliflbrd,  of  Labesboi- 
rough,  in  consideration,  as  the  patent  expresses  i^,  of  hik 
timely  and  effectual  services.  He  constantly  attended  hi^ 
Inajesty  with  his  troops,  as  long  ^s  any  part  of  the  king'- 
dom  afforded  reception  to  him ;  but  was  at  lengtb  forced 
to  compound  for  his  estates,  with  the  then  existing 
government  for  the  sum  of  1631/.  Hltving,  however^ 
crossed  the  seas  before  the  composition  was  completed, 
the  House  of  Commons  taking  advantage  of  hi«  absentee, 
appointed  a  committee  to  consider  of  the  debt  owing  by 
the  Earl  of  Cork  (a  titl'e  to  which  be  had  now  snceeeded) 
Which  involved  him  in  considerable  dtfficuftres.    Ha  was 


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BOYLE.  ISI 

howtvcr,  fertmMttljF  eaabM  to  «atbfj  their  demands^  and 
in  order  to  secare  bis  property,  returned  to  Iretand,  where 
he  lircd  in  a  retired  mmoiitf  iopon  hi»  own  eedatety  wbjeh 
were  cooMdcrably  enoumbered  in  consequence  of  his  )ate 
exertions  io  fa^otr«f  Charles  I.  and  the  heavy  oomfosi* 
tioa  he  had  just  been  conpelled  to  pay. 

Daring  hia  rasideDce  in  Irehmd,  which  oontmed  until 
tbe  restoration  of  Charles  IL  his  generoes  disposition 
eserted  itself  in  relieving  those  who  had  suffered  from 
their  attacbnent  to  the  late  king.  He  also'endeayoured  to 
svf^port  his  establishment  in  the  seme  state  and  magnifi* 
cctice  in  which  bis  father  bad  lived,  in  consequence  of 
which  be  was  at  length  so  much  embarrassed,  that  bis 
countess  was  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  applyrog  to  the 
Protector  for  relief,  which  was  liberally  granted  through 
the  intereessidn  of  hi»  brother,  the  Lord  Broghifl.     No 
sooner  had  be  received  this  assistance,  than  he  appfied  a 
oonsiderable  portion  of  it  to  relieve  the  wants  of  Charles 
IL  then  in  exile ;  a  circumstance,  which  certainly,  how- 
ever it  may  evince  his  toysdty,  do^  not  tend  to  set  his 
gratitude  in  the  most  fev€>urable  light.     He  also  con- 
stantly laboured,  as  much  f»  his  property  and  interest  would 
Mffw,  to  procure  the  restoration  of  that  prince  to  the  throne 
of  his  fathers ;  in  consequence  of  which,  in  the  sixteenth 
year  of  his  reign,  that  monarch  created  him  by  Jetters 
patent.  Earl  of  Burlington,  or  Bridlington,  in  the  county 
of  York.    He  also  possessed  the  office  of  lord  high  trea- 
surer of  Ireland,  which  had  been  rendered,  through  the 
interest  of  his  father  when  -in  that  sitoatioa,  bereditaiy  in 
the  £uily. 

On  J  me  3, 1^65,  his  second  son,  Richard,  then  a  volun^ 
tecr  on  board  the  fleet  commanded  by  his  royal  highness' 
tbe  Dvke  of  York,  was  killed  by  a  cannon-shot  in  the  en* 
gagemeat  off'Solebay.  -  This  melancholy  accident  afforded 
his  majesty  another  opportunity  of  testifyii^g  his  affectiod 
§m  bia  lordship,  by  appointing  him,  in  1666,'  lord  Kea* 
!  of  the  West  Riding  of  Yorkshire,  and  of  the  city 


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15«  BOYLE. 

York.  Id  1679^  be  was  also  appointed  custos  rotulorum 
for  that  coQDtry. 

These  honours  he  held  till  after  the  death  of  Charles  II.; 
but  when  bis  successor  intimated  to  him  his  wish  that  he 
should  sacrifice  the  duties  of  his  office  to  the  private  incli* 
nations  of  his  majesty,  and  consequently  assist  in  subvert- 
ing the  constitution  of  his  country,  he  decidedly  declared 
against  so  infamous  a  project,  and  magnanimously  resigned 
bis  trusts,  rather  than  consent  to  betray  them.  In  conse- 
quence of  this,  the  situations  he  had  filled  for  so  many 
years  with  the  greatest  honour  to  himself,  and  benefit  to 
his  country,  were  bestowed  on  Lord  Thomas  Howard,  a 
zealous  catholic,  and  one  who  was  thought  more  fitted 
for  the  great  design  then  projected  against  our  religion 
and  liberty. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  he  zealously 
concurred  in  all  the  measures  which  were  then  adopted 
for  resettling  the  constitution  ;  but  he  neither  sought  for^ 
nor  accepted,  any  place;  notwithstanding  his  great  talents 
and  qualifications,  which  rendered  him  adequate  to  the 
most  active  and  important  stations.  He  contented  him- 
self with  a  peaceful  and  less  pompous  retirement,  gaining 
the  esteem  of  his  equals,  the  love  of  his  sovereign,  and  the 
admiration  of  his  inferiors,  which  were  warmly  expressed 
on  bis  decease,  which  took  place  on  January  15,  1697-8, 
in  the  eighty*$ixth  year  of  bis  age. 

The  character  of  this  great  man  may  be  summed  up  in 
a  few  words.  In  all  the  polite  and  elegant  accomplish- 
ments of  his  age,  he  excelled ;  as  a  soldier,  his  skill  and 
courage  cannot  be  questioned ;  and  his  attachment  to  an 
unfortunate  sovereign  and  his  descendants,  though  warm 
and  energetic  while  he  regarded  their  government  as  con- 
nected with  the  welfare  of  his  country,  could  not  induce 
him  to  consent  tQ  ah  attempt  against  its  liberties.  This 
he  abhorred  from  whatever  quarter  it  might  arise;  and  he 
rejoiced  in  the  re*establishment  of  its  constitution,  though 
accompanied  with  the  downfal  of  the  family  he.revere4; 


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BOYLE.  1« 

and  with  a  truly  noble  spirit  preferred  the  benefit  of  hit 
coontrj  at  large  to  the  gratification  of  his  private  inclina* 
tions.  In  private  life,  his  virtues  were  as  great  as  his 
talents  in  public;  he  was  beloved  by  his  servants  aud 
his  tenants,  and  regretted  by  all.  His  generosity  was 
unbounded;  and  although  he  might  be  conceived,  from 
the  diflBculties  under  which  he  at  one  time  laboured,  to 
have  justly  incurred  the  charge  of  imprudence,  we.  cannot 
but  feel  inclined  to  pardon  this  weakness,  when  we  consider 
the  cause  of  his  distress,— that  it  was  occasioned  by  re- 
lieving the  wants  of  those,  who,  deprived  of  their  all  from 
their  attachment  to  their  prince,  had  none  but  him  to  look 
up  to  for  assistance. 


ROGER  BOYLE. 

'Fhis  celebrated  individual,  who  united  the  greatest  abh> 
lities  in  the  field,  with  the  most  consummate  judgment  in 
the  cabinet,  and  whose  reputation  as  an  author  was  equal- 
led  but  by  few  of  his  contemporaries,  was  born  on  the  26th 
of  April,  1621.  He  was  the  third  son  of  Richard,  the  first 
Earl  of  Cork.  When  seven  years  of  age,  he  was  invested 
with  the  title  of  Baron  Broghill,  of  the  kingdom  of  Ire- 
land, and  at  the  age  of  fifteen  was  sent  to  Trinity  College, 
where  he  remained  for  some  time  in  the  pursuit  of  his  stu* 
dies.  He  afterwards  travelled  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Mar- 
combes,  visiting  the  court  of  France,  and  then  proceeded 
to  Italy.  In  this  country  he  remained  under  the  care  of 
his  learned  and  friendly  preceptor,  and  imbibed  an  incli- 
nation for  poetry,  which  he  afterwards  cultivated  with 
great  success.  On  his  return  to  England,  the  reputation 
of  bis  father  procured  him  an  introduction  at  court,  and 
his  personal  merits  and  cultivated  talents  ensured  him  the 
approbation  of  all  who  were  acquainted  with  him.  Such 
abilities  as.  he  possessed  soon  attracted  general  attention, 
and  bit  firiendship  and  assistance  were  earnestly  courted  by 
the  Eari  of  Strafford  and  the  Earl  of  Northumberland.   lo 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


154  fiOYLB. 

the  ezpedkioti  «rhioh  was  imdsrtakefi  bjr  tins  laitar  nobler  . 
mao  into  the  north  of  Englsnd  against  the  Scotch^  ha 
eot rusted  the  Lonl  Brogfaill  'with  the  comnaQd  of  his  owa 
troop,  ia  which  sitaatioa  this  young  nobleman  acqaitfiadl 
faiaiself  to  his  contnaodar^  satis&ction ;  aad  soon  after 
his  return,  be  tnarried  the  Lady  Margaret  Howardi  sisiar 
ta  the  Earl  of  Suffolk. 

*    He  now  returned  to  Ireland  with  bis  lady^  aad  arrivad 
im  the  Tery  day  on  which  the  great  icbellioa  cooiQieaeed. 
This   oiroumstancey  howerery-was    not  thea  kaowo  ia 
Munster,  so  that  he  proceeded  in  safety  «o  his  father's  at 
Lismore*    A  few  days  after  his  arrival,  going  with  his 
father  to  dine  with  his  brother-in  law,  the  Earl  of  Barry- 
more,  at  Castle  Lyons^  the  Earl  of  Cork  was  called  out  to 
a  messenger,  who  informed  him,  that  an  open  rebellion 
had  commenced,  aad  that  the  iasurgents  were  masters  of 
the  country,  and  were  coaunittiog  dhe  most  horrid  barba- 
fities  on  the  English  settlers.    The  Earl  of  Cork  returned 
40  the  company  without  shewing  any  emotion^  and  did 
aot  commuaicate  this  dreadful  intelligence  till  after  dio^ 
tier,  when  the  Earl  of  Muskerry,  who  was  tbeii  on  a  visit 
«t  Castle  Lyons,  tneated  the  story  as  a  mere  fabrication^ 
and  employed  die  whole  force  of  bis  wit  in  turning  at  into 
ridicule.   The  coaipany,  however>  were  alarmed,  and  sooa 
separated,  retorDiag  to  their  homes,  where  the  first  intelli- 
gence they  received  was^  that  the  Lord  Muskerry  had 
appeared  at  the  head  of  some  thousands  of  rebels. 
'    The  insurrection  now  became  uni versal^  and  was  attended 
-with  circumstances  of  such  atrocious  barbarity  aod  uneix- 
ampled  crueky,  that  the  English  were  thrown  into  tbe 
greatest  alarm.    The  Earl  of  Cork,  without  delay^  sum- 
iBoned  his  tenants,  and  formed  a  body  of  five  hnodved 
men,  giving  the  coaimaod  of  a  troop  of  horse  to  Loid 
Broghill.    They  were  soon  ordered  to  join  the  lord-presi- 
dent St.  Leifper,  and  Lord  Broghill,  on  maay  occasions, 
evinced  the  greatest  courage  and  conduct ;  the  soocess  of 
die  contest  remaining  for  a  long  time  doubtAil,  owing  to 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


BQYIS.  m 

tlM  pv^ipowiBAUig  pnmbecs  of  t^e  ipsvrgf pti^.  Wbea  this 
oessation  of  arms  w^  coqcluded  i^  MS0,  Xx»r4  ^roghill 
^eot  QYtsf  %9  Englandi  where  be  repre$iquted  the  treachery 
€if  t}ie  n^beU  io  90  s^'opg  a  light  to  his  mnjentif,  ^  to  cQ^t 
viime  hii9  that  t|iejr  did  not  peaa  to  adh^e  to  tbe  terip^ 
which  biwl  heeo  agreed  pa,  In  qonsequeiiQA  of  this,  hU 
Hu^esty  dispatched  to  Ix>rd  IiH^hiqaio,  then  president  9f 
M.QQtH3ri »  ^(amission  to  prosecute  the  reb^^,  and  Iipr4 
9f«ghill  einplofed  aU  his  iotensst  to  a#^8t  bim  in  tbf 
exercise  of  his  ardooits  task.  Sooq  after  this,  the  goverpr 
mem  of  Ireland  w^s  ceded  by  the  ^ing  to  the  comiQi^ 
siooeisi^ppoiDted  by  the  parUaoneDt;  hut  so  much  did  liQrd 
^gbill  abhor  the  cruelties  aod  excesses  which  had  beea 
QMBjnitted  by  the  jrebeb*  that  he  still  retained  his  coair 
miji^ipii)  find  did  n^^  relax  from  his  streuuouJi  eudfH^VQUc^ 
tp  ,rf-esUblish  the  tranquillity  of  hi«  country. 

Qn  the  .execujUon  of  Ch^rl^  (.  Lord .  Broghill  wm 
so  mu^b  gboc{c(^  ajt  tbt^t  melftuchply  ocqurreupe,  tbftt  \^ 
innpediAtely  .quitted  the  service  of  the  pf^rliam^pt,  and 
ab^mdoniiig  his  lestAtQi  in  Ireland,  embarjced  for  £Qglapdt 
He  now  retired  to  his  seat  ajt  Marstpn,  m  SomersfQtshire^ 
where  he  lived  privfuely  tiU  ]649;  b^t  this  joaptive  Uf^ 
aopn  wearied  him.  He  regarded  it  as  a  dereliction  of  bis 
duty  to  th^  unfortunate  ffunily  pf  tb^e  Stu^rts^  ^nd  unfit . 
for  a  man  of  bis  quality.  The  principles  of  loyalty  in 
which  he  bad  been  educated  stimulated  h,in^  to  aptive  ex- 
ertions, and  he  resolved  upon  passing  pyer  tp  tbe  continent, 
to  procure  a  commission  froqi  Charles  II.  %o  Ijevy  forceii 
for  bis  service  in  Ireland.  For  ]tbi^  purpo^p,  be  raised  ^. 
opn^iderable  sum  of  money  uppn  bi^  estates,  and  applied 
10  fb§  1^1  of  SfVarwick,  who  was  then  in  great  credit  witi} 
tbe  previaling  party,  reque^tiqg  him  to  prpcure  for  him  ft 
4m  paM  to.gp  oypr  to  the  Sipa,  the  watery  of  that  placp 
having  beep  reppg)pi€;uded  to  bi^  as  essential  tp  tbprecQ- 
^W.  Wd  pt^ery^tion  pf  bi»  bc^tb,  JJp  alfo  pomQu- 
iwcMsd  b^s  design  to  several  persons  whom  be  conceived 
eg/mih  4«vot#d  with  himielif  to  tine  ca^se  of  their  exilf  d 


Digitized  by  VjjOOQIC 


166  BOYLE. 

sovereign;  and  the  plao  being  approved  of  by  thein^  he 
went  to  London  to  wait  for  his  passport. 

Tlie  committee  of  state,  who  were  then  at  the  head  of 
the  government,  were  ever  on  the  watch  to  discover  th^ 
designs  of  the  partisans  of  Charles,  and  spared  no  money 
to  procure  intelligence.  The  Lord  BroghilPs  abilities 
were  too  well  known  to  them,  his  principles  they  had 
every  reason  to  saspect  were  unfavourable  to  their  govern- 
ment, and  his  every  motion  was  watched.  His  secret 
intentions  were  soon  discovered,  and  the  committee  re- 
solved upon  making  him  an  example  to  deter  the  friends 
of  the  king  from  exerting  themselves  in  his  behalf.  From 
this  resolution  ihey  were,  however,  diverted  by  Cromwell, 
who  had  just  been  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  forces 
in  Ireland,  and  who  ivas  aware  what  essential  service 
might  be  rendered  him  in  that  office  by  the  interest  of 
Lord  Broghill,  and  his  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
country,  the  subjugation  of  which  he  was  about  to  attempt. 
He  represented  these  reasons  to  the  committee,  of  which 
he  was  a  member,  and  prevailed  on  them  to  allow  him  to 
talk  with  Lord  Broghill,  previous  to  proceeding  to  extre- 
mities. Having  obtained  this  permission,  he  immediately 
dispatched  a  gentleman  to  Lord  Broghill,  requesting  to 
know  at  what  hour  it  would  be  convenient  fov  tlie  general 
to  wait  upon  him. 

Lord  Broghill  was  much  surprised  at  this  message 
never  having  had  the  slightest  acquaintance  with  Crom- 
well, and  he  informed  the  messenger,  that  he  must  be 
mistaken  in  the  person  to  whom  the  message  was  sent. 
The  gentleman,  however,  insisting  that  it  was  to  the  Lord* 
Broghill,  his  lordship  requested  him  to  inform  his  master, 
that  he  would  wait  upon  him  if  he  knew  when  he  would 
be  at  leisure,  and  added,  that  in  the  mean  time  he  would 
remain  at  home  to  receive  the  general's  answer. 

Relying  upon  the  honour  of  those  he  had  entrusted  with 
his  secret,  he  did  not  entertain  the  slightest  idea  that  hfs 
intentions  had  been  discovered,  and  he  renuuned  at  home 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


BOYLE.  137 

in  much  perplexity,  waiting  the  return  of  the  messenger, 
when,  to  his  great  surprise,  Cromwell  himself  entered  the 
room.  After  the  first  civilities  were  exchanged  between 
them,  Cromwell  in  few  words  informed  him,  that  the 
committee  of  state  were  aware  of  his  design  of  going  over 
9nd  applying  to  Chdrles  Stuart  for  a  commission  to  raise 
forces  in  Ireland^  and  that  they  had  determined  to  punish 
him  with  the  greatest  severity,  had  not  he  himself  di- 
verted  them  from  their  resolution.  Lord  Broghill  on  this, 
interrupted  him,  with  an  assurance  that  the  committee 
had  been  misled  by  false  intelligence,  as  he  had  neither 
the  power  nor  the  inclination  to  raise  any  disturbance  in 
Ireland;  he  also  thanked  the  genera]  for  his  kind  offices 
to  him,  and  entreated  him  to  continue  his  good  opinion. 
Cromwell  made  no  reply,  but  drew  from  his  pocket  some 
papers,  and  put  them  into  Lord  Broghill's  hands.  These 
were  copies  of  several  letters  which  he  had  sent  to  some 
of  the  persons,  on  whose  assistance  he  most  relied.  Finding 
farther  dissimulation  impracticable,  he  asked  his  excel- 
lency's pardon  for  what  he  had  said,  thanked  him  for  his 
protection  against  the  resolutions  of  the  committee,  and 
entreated  his  advice  how  to  act  on  so  delicate  an  occa* 
sion.  Cromwell  candidly  told  him,  that  though  till  that 
time  he  had  been  a  stranger  to  his  person,  he  was  none  to 
bis  merits  and  character;  that  he  had  heard  how  gallantly 
bis  lordship  had  already  behaved  in  the  Irish  war« ;  and 
therefore,  since  he  was  named  lord-lieutenant  of  Ireland, 
and  the  reduction  of  that  country  had  now  become  his 
province,  he  had  obtained  leave  of  the  committee  to  ofifisr 
bira  the  command  of  a  general-officer,  if  he  would  serve  in 
that  war;  that  he  should  have  no  oaths  nor  engagements 
imposed  upon  him,  nor  be  expected  to  draw  hb  sword, 
except  against  the  Irish  rebels. 

So  generous  and  unexpected  an  ofifer  much  surprised 
Lord  Broghill.  He  saw  himself  perfectly  at  liberty  by  all 
tke  kws  of  honour  to  draw  his  sword  against  the  rebels, 
wfaose  atrocious  barbarities  were  equally   detested    l^ 


Dightized  by  VjOOQIC 


m  BOY^E. 

both  partiet.  He,  hpveyer,  reqnett^  iome  time  tojooth' 
aider  of  the  proppsal,  but  CrpmweU  briskly  tol4  him  th^ 
be  must  form  hj»  resolution  immediatelj,  as  he  was  return- 
ing, to  the  committee,  wbo  were  &tiU  sittings  and  who,  if 
hi|  lordship  rejected  their  .o£Eer,  had  determined  tp  send 
him  to  the  Tower.  Broghill  seeing  that  bis  liberty  and 
life  were  in  the  uKMt  imminent  danger,  and  cbanmed  vitk 
the  fraokne^s  of  Cromweir^  bebavioar>  gaye  him  bis.  word 
and  honour  that  he  would  faithfully  ienre  him  .againat  th* 
Irish  rebels.  On  this  Cromwell  renewed  hi»  promiBes,iaod 
ordered  him  to  repair  to  Bristol,  whither  forces  should  bt 
immediately  Bent  him,  with  a  sufficient  number  of  trana* 
port^  for  their  conveyance  to  Ireland^  to  which  eOMQtry  he 
himself  would  sopn  follow. 

These  promises  were  fulfilled  in  every  respect*  .Lord 
Broghill  hastened  to  Bristol,  where  he  was  soon  joined  by 
the  neceasary  txoops,  and  on  his  arrival  in  Iceland,  io 
much  had  be  gained  the  affections  of  those  who  bad  for^- 
merly  served  under  him,  by  his  courage  and  affability, 
that  he  soon  saw  himself  at  the  head  of  a  tj*oop  of  horse 
composed  entirely  of  gentlemen,  togetlier  with  a  regiment 
of  fifteen  hundred  men.  With  this  little  army,  be  boveced 
up  and  down  the  country,  keeping  the  insurgents  at  check, 
until  Cromwell  landed,  at  Wexford,  wbgrn  he  immediately 
joined  with  bis  troops,  though  some  of  his  friends  had 
advised  him  not  to  put  himself  too  much  in  the  power  of 
the  lord -lieutenant.  Broghill^  however,  resolved  upon 
trustiflg  himself  entirely  to  Cromwell's  honour,  nor  had  he 
ever  reason  to  repent  his  <:onfidence. 

After  the  reduction  of  Drogbeda,  Cromwell  laid  siege 
to  Cionmell,  when  he  received  inteUigenee  that  the  febeis 
bad  coUected  a  large  body  (tf  troops,  which  were  stiU 
increasing  in  nambers,with  the  intention  of  compelling  bim 
to  raiae  *he  siege..  He  imoMdi^^y  dispatched  Loid  Brog- 
hill at  the  bead  of.&atroqg  idetaobment,  with^irdera  to  .&il 
upon  the  pMty  which  bad  aasembled.  Thb  servtee  was 
performed  with  the  greatest  celerity,  and  he  fell  npon  ibe 


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BOYLE.  IS9 

mkitmf^  whmtmmibtan*montktti  to  afaoit  five  thoasaocl 
seciy  ber<MPe  tb^y  Wie»-e  aw^are  of  hts  ftppfoaeh,  and  entbdy 
ilQiited  ihem,  and  was  engaged  id' taking  measures  for  their 
coniplete  ^spersjoi^  when  be  raceiired  dis|»atche»  ttom 
Cfomwell,  ia£arjniing  iijiin  fthat  bis  army  before  Oximeli 
wa»  much  reduced  by  ibe  ravages  of  disease^  and  tbat  they 
bad  beeatHTice  repaked  by  ibe  besie^d;  conjuring  bim 
U>ereflN)e|hy  every  tie  of  duty  and  affeetion,rte  hasten  to 
his  relief,  or  4hat  be  sbould  be. compelled  to  raise  the 
sj^e*  Lord  Grogbill  ioseediately  retumed  him  for  a»» 
swer,  by  his  «wa  toessenger,  that  he  had  just  defeated  ihe 
rebds,  and  voaM  he  iMh  bim  before  Qoomell  in.  three 
daya,  GromweU  was  Buicb  pleased  wkh  this  message^: 
wd  when,  at  the  time  appointed^  Lord  Broghill  appeared^ 
he  «nkred  4he  fwhole  army  to  ery,  ''A  BrogbiU!''^ 
A  BfogbiU !"  and  jran^ind  embraced  Um,  thanking  him  for 
hja^seasonable  asaistaocey  and  ooBgratalaiing  him  on  his 
kl^  victory*  Thas  raraforced^  he  prosecuted  the  siege  ivith 
Fedoobled  vigoar^  and  Cornell  sttnendered.  to  hia  victo* 
U99$9  4irms  in  the  depth  «if  winter* 

Gpom^rell  heiag  soeo  after,  aeat  Cur  to  oppose  the 
Soetoh»  gavie  the  chief  oooimand. of  theforees  in  Iveland 
to  ketoni  wbcdSi  he  apfointed  Us  deputy,  and  left  Lord 
BiAgbtll  ait  the  head  of  a  iying  camfi  in  Mnnster*  In  this 
tkttttion  he  was  indefatigable,  taking  several  towns^  and 
firequently  atiMoking  the  enemy ^  with ''Suoees&  In  these 
expeditions  be  evinced  so  much  ability,  and  gave  peraoaai 
proofs  Af  each  iindanniad  conrage,  thai  fae^was  regarded 
with  admimtioa  by  the  whole- body  of  the* nation;  und 
laeiomy  who  still  sntspecled  him  of  a  private  atlBchment  to 
the  royal  farty^  is  reported  to.  have  saidy^  We  most  mke 
off  Biwgb<]u,  <or  he  wiU  ruin  tts  aU." 

Lord  Bnoghitt  himself  eolenained  great  ensfsdons.  ef 
betonV jealoDsy  of  faimi  and  thenrfore  kept  wstb  hss. little 
nrmy  at  some  distance,  acting  independently  tifl  he  waa 
noofieUed  to  join  him  at  the  siege  of  Limerick.    Dnriog 


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140  BOYLE. 

thi8  8iege  the  Lord  Broghill  wai  ordered  on  a  senrice 
which  certainly  appears  to  have  been  dictated  by  evil 
intentions  on  the  part  of  Ireton.  Lord '  Muskerry  had 
collected  a  body  of  three  thousand  men,  one  thousand  of 
whom  were  horse^  with  which  he  was  marching  to  join  the 
Nuncio,  who  was  at  the  head  of  eight  thousand  men,  for 
the  purpose  of  afterwards  proceeding  to  the  relief  of  Li- 
merick. To  prevent  their  junction.  Lord  Broghill  was 
dispatched  by  Ireton  with  but  one  thousand  troops.  By 
forced  marches  he  came  up  with  Lord  Muskerry  before  he 
had  effected  his  union  with  the  Nuncio,  and  fell  upon  him 
with  the  greatest  intrepidity  and  resolution.  He  was, 
however,  owing  to  his  inferior  numbers,  soon  surrounded 
by  the  enemy,  who  offered  him  fair  quarter.  This  he 
refused,  and  threw  himself  into  the  thickest  of  the  battle, 
to  encourage  his  men  to  exert  themselves  to  the  utmost. 
This  so  exasperated  the  rebels,  that  they  exclaimed,  **  Kill 
the  fellow  in  the  gold-laced  coat,"  and  they  would  in  all 
probability  have  effected  their  purpose,  had  he  not  been 
brought  off*  by  a  lieutenant  of  his  own  troop,  who  was 
shot  twice,  and  had  his  horse  killed  under  him  in  ensuring 
his  commander*s  rescue.  So  spirited  an  example  infused 
fresh  courage  into  his  troops,  the^  fought  with  despe- 
ration, and  their  exertions  were  crowned  with  victory. 
The  enemy  was  completely  routed,  leaving  six  hundred 
men  dead  on  the  spot,  together  with  a  great  number  of 
prisoners. 

When  the  war  in  Ireland  was  ^nished,  Cromwell,  who 
seemed  resolved  to  attach  Lord  Broghill  to  him,  by  load- 
ing him  with  fresh  favours,  sent  for  him  to  England,  and 
appointed  him  one  of  his  privy  council,  ^or  can  there  be 
a  greater  proof  of  the  fine  taste  of  the  Protector,  in  spite 
of  the  cant  which  the  times  compelled  him  to  use  in  pub- 
lic, than  the  constant  and  familiar  intimacy  in  which  he 
lived  with  Broghill,  Waller,  and  Milton. 

The  affairs  of  Scotland  were  at  this  time  in  much  e»n- 


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BOYLE.  141 

foiioDy  and  Cromwell,  wanting  a  man  of  abilities  in  wbofu 
be  could  confide,  to  preside  in  that  country,  fixed  apoa 
Lord  Broghill  for  that  high  situation.  His  lordship,  bow- 
tYCT,  was  uBwilling  to  accept  so  delicate  an  ofiice ;  he  was 
aware  that  bis  conduct  would  be  grossly  misrepresented  by. 
the  factions  with  which  that  country  was  then  divided^ 
and  he  requested  the  PrQtector  to  excuse  his  not  accepting 
that  post,  informing  him  at  the  same  time  of  bis  reasons 
for  refusing  the  honour  intended  him.  Cromweli,  how* 
ever,  stating  that  it  was  necessary  for  his  service,  he  was 
compelled  to  submit.  He,  however,  obtained  a  promise  of 
the  Protector,  that  bisbighneiss  would  listen  to  no  com- 
plainu  which  should  be  made  against  bim,  till  he  bad  an 
opportunity  of  vindicating  himself,  and  that  he  should  be 
recalled  at  the  end  of  one  year.  The  Protector  fulfilled 
his  promises,  and  Broghill,  on  bis  return,  found,  as  he  ex« 
pected,  that  numerous  and  violent  complaints  had  been 
made  against  bim.  He,  however,  gave  so  dear  an  account 
of  bis  reasons  for  his  conduct  in  every  particular,  thai 
Cromwell  was  perfectly  satisfied,  and  conceived  a  mucb 
higher  esteem  for  him  than  he  bad  before  entertained. 

During  the  protectorate  of  Cromwell,  Lord  Broghill 
bad  many  opportunities  of  relieving  and  assistmg  the 
adherents  of  the  king,  from  the  affection  which  Cromwell 
entertained  for  him.  In  proof  of  this,  we  may  mention,, 
that  Cromwell  one  day,  in  the  midst  of  a  friendly  cooveiw 
sation,  told  him  in  a  gay  manner,  that  an  old  friend  of  his 
was  just  come  to  town.  Broghill  desiring  to  know  whooL' 
his  highness  meant?  Crom^well,  to  his  great  surprise,  an« 
swered,  the  Marquis  of  Ormond.  On  this  Broghill  pro- 
tested that  he  was  wholly  ignorant  of  it.  I  know  that  well 
enough,  said  the  Protector ;  however,  if  you  have  a  mind 
to  preserve  your  old  acquaintance,  let  him  know,  that  I  am 
not  ignorant  either  where  he  is  or  what  he  is  doing.  He 
also  told  him  where  the  Marquis  lodged,  and  Broghill, 
having  obtained  this  goierbus  permission  to  save  his 
friend,  went  directly  to  him,  and  acquainted  bim  with 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


1«  BOYLE. 

what  bad  passed;  Ormond  fiDdmg  htmself  discoirered^ 
hi^mediatelj  quitted  London^  and  srailed  himself  of  tbe 
etfrii^c  opportunity  of  retur^Tng  to  the  king. 
'  The  kindness  and  aflectioiv  with  whidv  Lord  Broghtij 
w«s  always  treated  by  the  Protector,  excited  correspond^ 
kig  sentiments  in  his  bosom ;  and  when,  en  the  decease  of 
Ofiver^iiis  son  Richard  'succeeded  hinr  in  bis  power,  be 
resolved  upon  endeavouring  to  eritiee  bis  gratitude  to  the* 
fotber,  by  supporting  the  son*  He  saw  the  weak  aatF 
racillating  state  of  Richard  Crottwetl's  mind,  and  he  sooir 
became  awm'e  of  tbe  impossibility  of  his  maintaining  the 
situation  to  which  bis  fttCber's  merits  and  abilities  bad 
invsedbifn.  A^  one  of  bis  eabinet  council,  which  cen6tste«l 
of  Dr^  Wflkins,  €o4onel  Phillips,  and  himself,  he  bad  frt^ 
Hfoeal  opportuniMes  of  perceiviog  that  want  of  decismi 
fmd  firmness  which  marked  tbe  administration  of  tbe  new? 
Protector,  aad  which  prevented  his  piiofiting  by  ibe  adrice 
of  ibose  who  were  to  wdL  capable  of  directing  biia.  Pen* 
MPadedby  the  faction  then  prevalent  ia  the  army,  Ricbanst* 
wa»  tnduoe^  without  acqvaiotiog  bis  cabinet  conncil,  ia 
consent)  to  the  meeting  of  a  general  cou»eil  of  officem  a« 
the  same  time  that  the  parliament  met*  Broghili  was  per- 
fectly* aware  of  the  destruction  tbe  Protector  waaidrawii^ 
bk^hiia  own  bead  by  thi*  wprudcttCmeasare,  and  expostu* 
latttd  witlr  him  on  tbe  occasion,  promttiog  at  the  «ame 
ume^  that  if  be  wouU  reaoive  upon  dissolving  iheoouacil 
fttitbe  fiat  opportunity,  be  would  endeavour  to  prevesfe 
tfarnisehief  wbich  avigbt  <9(therwise  ensue,  k^iug;  as  » 
general,  the  right  to<  be  present  at  its*  meeting. 
'  WallingfordHouse'ii^astheplaceapiioiiitedfortdiemees^ 
iwgof  the  general  council  of  officers^  and  on  ibe  fiest  day 
ihey  assembleiito  the  aanvbevof  abe«efivehui>dred»  After 
a  long  prayer  by  Dr.-  Owen,  Majar-Gcoeral  DeBbocMigk 
iMe,  and-  in  a  long  speech  reminded  them  how  graciooa 
the  Lord  bad  been,  and  bow  their  arras  had  flouriEbed^ 
Ibbughbe  feared  this<  would  not  oontinue  loog^  as  seven! 
sons  of  Belial  bad  cvept  in  amongst  tbem^  who  ia  all  pro* 


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BOYLE.  148 

bability  woold  draw  down  the  jadgments  of  bearen  vfon 
them.  To  prevent  this,  he  proposed  a  test  lo  be  taken 
hf  all  persons  in  the  army,  that  every  one  should  swear 
Alit  be  believed  in  his  conscience,  that  the  pvctin^r  to 
UltBth  of  the  late  king  Charles  Stuart  ww  lawful  and  jast 

Tbis  speech  was  received  with  great  appllaase,  oecaiioiii^ 
iilg  a  general  ay  of  *'  well-aioved  !*  w  that  mtkiy  of 
Richard's  friends  thinking  it  useless  to  oppose  so  etidenta 
majority,  left  the  house.  Lord  Broghill,  bow^ver/against 
whom  this  speech  was  more  particularly  levelled,  as  soon 
as  silence  was  restored,  rose  to  object  against  any  tests 
whatever,.as  a  thing  which  they  had  often  declared  against. 
That  if  they  proceeded  to  impose  tests  upon  themselves^ 
they  would  soon  have  them  imposed  by  others.  That  the 
test  proposed  was  improper^  a3  many  of  tbe  members  were 
not  present  at  the  execution  of  the  late  king,  and  conse- 
quently were  unable  to  swear  as  to  the  lawfulness  of  a  pro- 
ceeding, tbe  circumstances  of  which  they  were  unac* 
quainted  with.  If,  however,  they  were  resolved  upon 
having  a  test,  he  would  propose,  that  every  parson  in  the 
army  shouM  swear  to  defend  tbe  establisbed  govemmeiiC 
voder  the  Protector  and  parliaiaent. 

This  propositioa  was  received  with  a  kmdier  cry  of 
^  wdl-BMved,''  than  that  of  Desborough^s,  aad  was  se- 
eoodcd  with  so  much  wartnth  by  sowe  otbor  Members  of 
the  eouwcil)  that  Desboroiv^,  after  consukiog  with  Fleel»- 
Immd,  and  fiiuMiig  it  ioiposaiMe  to  carry  the  test  he  had 
psapofcd^  saaaed  that  the  arguments  whidihad  bcisn  made 
■ae  of  by  Lord  Bro^ill,  had  oonrriBced  him  tbtd  tests 
arere  i8if)iroper,aBd  he  tberef»re  pracpoted  Aaa  they  ahoaU 
teth  be  withdrawn,  which  was  at  length  agseed  to. 

On  tbe  breaking  u>p  of  tbe  council,  which,  was  adjourned 
till  the  next  day,  BrogbiU  returned  to  t^e  Proaectoc,  and 
after  pointing  out  the  constant  difficulties  in  whic^  he 
would  be  involved  daring  their  sittings^  adviaed  him  to 
diisotve  cfaem  imuiediaieiy.  Riobard  inquiring  bow  ha 
rtumM  do  i«  f  BrogbiU  said  that  fae  would  draw  up  a  shost 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


m  BOYLE. 

«peecb  for  hiaii  which  he  might  read  to  them  the  next 
moroingy  after  haying  sat  among  them  about  an  boutf 
This  was  accordingly  done.    T|)e  following  morning ;  th^ 
Protector,  to  the  great  surprise  of  the  assembly^  ?eate^ 
himself  in  the  chair  of  state^  and  after  attending  ,tp  ,thie 
debates  some  time,  rose  and  delivered  the  speech,  w.bicb 
had  been  prepared  for  him  by  the  Lord  Brogbill^  with 
tnuch  better  grace  than  bad  been  c:i^p€;cted.      .    . 
'*  Gentlemen, 
"  i  thankfully  accept  of  your  Services.    I  have  consi* 
dered  your  grievances,  and  think  the  properest  method 
to  redress  what  is  amiss  among  you,  is  to  do  it  in  the  par- 
liament now  sitting,  and  where  I  will  take  care  ycti  shall 
have  justice  done  you.     I  therefore  declare  my  commis. 
sion  for  holding  this  assembly  to  be  void  ;  and  that  thift 
general  council  is  now  dissolved;  and  I  desire  that  such 
of  you  as  are  not  members  of  the  parliament,  will  repair 
forthwith  to  your  respective  commands/' 

Fleetwood, .  Desborough,  and  the  rest  of  their  party 
were  confounded  by  this  spirited  speech,  and  had  Richard 
been  capable  of  acting  with  the  same  dignity  which  ha 
expressed  upon  this  occasion,  he  might  still  have  retained 
the  power  which  was  bequeathed  to  him  by  his  father. 
The  faction  toon  gaessed  that  Broghill  was  the  author  of 
the  speech  they  had  jnst  heard,  and  resolved,  to  be  re- 
venged upon  him  for  his  imierfereoce.  In  consequepce  of 
this,  at  the  first  meeting  of  parliament  they  complaioed  that 
they  had  been  grossly  abused  and  affronted  by  a  cerHua 
lord  in  that  assembly,  and  therefore  moved  that  an  addresa 
be  presented  to  his  highness  the  Protector,  to  know  who 
advised  him  to  dissolve  the  council  of  war  without  the 
consent  and  knowledge  of  his  parliament. 

Several  of  Broghill's  friends  who  saw  that  the  storm 
was  pointed  at  him,  advised  him  to  withdraw  ;  he,  how- 
ever, sat  still,  till  hijB  enemies  had  done,  and  then  rose  and 
said,  that  he  was  not  averse  to  the  presenting  such  aa 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


BOYLE.  14i 

address^  but  at  the  tame  time  be  would  more  for  another 
address,  to  know  who  advised  the  calling  the  council  of 
war^  without  the  consent  and  knowledge  of  his  parliament, 
for  surely,  they  were  much  more  guilty  than  him  who  had 
advised  its  dissolution.  This  motion  was  received  with 
applause  by  the  house,  who  entertained  great  jealousy  of 
the  council  of  war,  and  Fleetwood  had  the  mortification 
to  see  his  {dans  baffled  a  second  time  by  the  dexterity  of 
the  Lord  Broghilh 

Though  the  council  of  officers  had  been  dissolved,  a 
great  number  of  them  still  continued  to  meet  privately* 
Broghill  and  some  others  of  Richard's  friends  informed 
the  Protector  of  these  meetings,  by  which,  not  only  his 
power,  but  even  his  person  was  endangered,  and  engaged 
that  if  he  would  act  boldly,  and  give  them  a  sufficient 
authority,  they  would  either  force  his  enemies  to  obey 
him,  or  destroy  them.  Richard  was  startled  at  this  pro- 
posal,  and  declined  their  offers,  stating,  that  rather  than 
a  drop  of  blood  should  be  spilt  on  his  account,  he  would 
lay  down  his  power,  which  was  but  a  burden  to  him ;  nor 
could  all  their  persuasions  induce  him  to  alter  his  resolu* 
tion.  Shortly  after  this,  the  council  of  officers,  partly  by 
threats,  and  partly  by  promises,  prevailed  upon  the  Pro- 
tector to  dissolve  the  parliament.  This  was  in  effect 
destroying  his  own  power ;  and  Lord  Broghill  seeing  the 
family  of  the  Cromwells  was  now  laid  aside,  returned  To 
bis  command  in  Munster,  where  he  was  much  beloved. 

The  conduct  of  affairs  now  devolved  into  the  hands  of 
the  committee  of  safety,  appointed  by  the  army,  and  seven 
commissioners  were  detached  by  that  body  to  take  charge 
of  Ireland.  They  had  particular  instructions  to  attend  to 
the  motions  of  Lord  Broghill,  and  if  possible  to  find  some 
occasion  to  confine  him,  as  they  were  well  aware  of  his 
intentions  of  endeavouring  to  restore  the  exiled  family  of 
the  Stuarts,  and  knew,  that  bis  popularity  in  Munster,  and 
bia  great  abilities  might  induce  the  whole  army  of  Ireland 
to  join  with  him  to  effect  his  purpose.    He  bad  already 

VOL.  !•  L 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


146  BOYLE. 

applied  to  Sir  Charles  Coote,  wiio  had  great  power  in  the 
north  of  Ireland,  when  he  was  sumnioned  by  the  commis* 
sionert  to  appear  before  them  at  the  castle  of  Doblin.  His 
friends  on  this  adrised  him  to  stand  upon  his  gaard^  and 
not  put  himself  into  the  power  of  his  oiemies ;  but  he 
thought  himself  not  sufficiently  strong  to  take  sucfaaatep^ 
and  therefore  went  to 'Dublin,  taking  bis  own  troop  with 
him  as  a  guard,  which  he  left  in  the  suburbs.  The  day 
after  his  arrival,  he  appeared  before  the  commissioners 
who  informed  him  that  he  was  suspected  of  plotting  against 
the  state,  and  that  they  had  orders  to  ooafine  him,  unless 
be  would  be  answerable  with  hit  life  and  estate  that  there 
should  be  no  commotion  in  Munster,  where  his  interest 
principally  lay.  Lord  Broghill  was  much  surprised  at  this 
proposal ;  he  saw  himself  in  the  power  of  his  enemies, 
who  would  Uke  advantage  of  his  refusing  the  security 
required,  by  immuring  him  in  a  prison,  and  who,  if  he  gave 
the  securities,  might  themselves  raise  some  commotion. 
He  requested  some  time  to  consider,  but  they  insisted  on 
his  immediate  answer ;  when  he  requested  to  know  if  they 
intended  to  put  the  whole  power  of  Munster  into  bis 
bands;  if  they  did,  he  was  willing  to  enter  into  any  secu- 
rities whatever;  but  if  they  did  not,  they  could  not  expect 
him  to  be  answerable  for  the  behaviour  of  people  over 
whom  he  had  no  control. 

This  question  so  much  embarraued  the  commissioaers, 
that  they  ordered  him  to  withdraw,  and  fell  into  a  warm 
debate  how  they  ought  to  proceed  with  him ;  and  at  length 
it  was  resolved  by  the  majority,  that  he  should  be  sent 
back  to  his  command  in  Munster,  with  every  civility,  and 
sufibred  to  retain  it  till  they  bad  farther  orders  from  £pg^ 
land.  In  consequence  of  which  he  was  invited  to  dkie 
with  the  commissioners,  who  assured  him  that  they  had  so 
high  an  opinion  of  his  honour  and  integrity,  that  they 
would  require  him  to  enter  into  no  engagements  whlttever, 
and  dismissed  him  with  the  greatest  respect.  Oo  his  retorts 
to  Munster,  Lord  Broghill  easily  saw  through   the  oieaa«> 


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BOYLB.  Hf 

iogof  the^e  outward  citilltiesi  and  ot  bU  arrival  at  bit. 
commdnd,  exerted  biroaelf  with  90  moch  energy  in  tbe 
rojBi  cause,  that  he  was  soon  enabled  to  atad  over  to 
CbaHes  a  declaratian  of  their  wbh,  that  be  should  oome 
to  Irelaody  sigoed  by  all  the  principal  officers  and  com* 
maodeni  in  that  oountry. 

Soon  after  his  hrothec's  dqmrlure  for  Flaodersy  be  re»» 
ceived  a  letter  from  Six  CUiarles  Coott >  informing  biei  that 
ibeir  design  of  dedaiiag  for  the  kiog  bad  been  discovered, 
in  consequence  of  which  he  bad  been  eompelled  to  declare 
himself  sooner  than  be  had  intended,  and  coojaring  bis 
lordship  not  to  forsake  biad  in  a  design  which  he  had  first 
persoaded  him  to  undertake*  On  the  i«ceipt  of  tbia  Lord 
BrogbiU  imniediately  declared  himaelf  for  his  majesty; 
and  the  coinmissi(H»ers  finding  theiaselves  in  the  widat  of 
two  snch  powerM  parties,  made  so  trifling  a  resistance, 
fcbat  the  whole  kingdom  was  quickly  lecurod  in  the  name 
oflw  majesty  Charles  lU 

On  the  retam  of  the  king  to  England^  and  his  re^esta^ 
blishment  \n  the  throne  of  bis  father,  Lord  Broghill  has* 
tenad  to  England,  where  he  was  received  by  Charles  with 
great  coolness.  He  was  much  surprised  at  thtf,  until  he 
discovered  that  Sir  Charles  Coote  had  sent  over  a  friend 
to  At  king  at  Brussels,  who  informed  him  that  Sir  Charles 
was  the  first  man  in  Ireland  who  had  taken  up  arms  for  bis 
majesty,  and  Uiat  I^ord  Bro^ill  was  extremely  averse  to 
bis  restoration^  In  oooseqaence  of  this,  BrogbiU  put  the 
letter  be  bad  received  from  Sir  Charles  into  the  haode  of 
his  brother,  the  Lord  Shannon,  who  laid  it  before  bis  aas- 
jesty,  who  was  thus  convinced  of  the  strenuous  exertions 
of  Lord  Broghill  in  bis  favour,  and  received  hira  after* 
vwds  in  the  most  gracious  manner.  Soon  aftjur  i\m  be 
was  created  Earl  of  Orrery,  and  appointed' one  of  his 
majesty's  cabinet  oowciU  He  was  also  promoted  to  the 
situation  of  lord  president  of  Munster,  and  named  one  of 
the  lords  jnspces  for  the  government  of  Ireland. 

The    tranquillity  which    followed  the  restoration    of 
Cbarlea  ineodering  the  1^1  of  Orrery's  abtlrties  as  a  aoMier 


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us  BOYLE. 

of  less  importance,  he  employed  his  talents  in  writing  those 
plays  on  which  his  reputation  as  an  author  principally 
depends.  They  are,  "  The  History  of  Henry  V.;"  «  Mus- 
tapha,  the  Son  of  Soliman the  Magnificent;"  ''The  Black 
Prince;**  and  "  Triphon.*'    They  were  distinguished  by 
much  of  that  brilliant  wit  which  sparkled  in  the  luxurious 
court  of  Charlesy  but  found  their  principal  claim  to  our 
notice  on  the  sentiments  of  honour  and  probity  with  which 
they  are  filled.  His  lordship  unfortunately  gained  so  much 
applause  from  his  first  piece,  which  was  written  in  rhyme, 
that  he  published  all  his  subsequent  works  in  the  same 
style,  which  is  certainly  extremely  improper  for  the  stage; 
and  in  consequence  of  this,  some  of  the  finest  thoughts 
are  expressed  in  so  spiritless  a  manner,  as  to  lay  them 
open  to  the  greatest  ridicule.    Great  allowances,  are  how- 
ever, to  be  made,  when  we  consider  that  these  plays  were 
composed  during  the  excruciating  fits  of  the  gout,  (a  dis- 
order which,  although  it  may  elicit  spirited  exclamations, 
is  not  on  the  whole,  favourable  for  the  development  of 
poetic  talents.)    This  afi9iction  caused  Charles  to  observe, 
that  if  he  intended  to  defer  finishing  his  Black  Prince 
till  he  had  another  attack,  he  heartily  wished   him   a 
good  fit  of  it.     His  posthumous   plays  are,  "  M*  An- 
thony;" "Gusman;**    *' Herod  the  Great;"  and  "Alte- 
mira."     His  lordship  is  also  well  known  as  an  author,  by 
his  immense    romance,  "  Par  then  issa ;"    a    work  which 
has  been  admired  and  read  in  several  modern  languages. 
He  also  published,  **  The  Irish  Colours  displayed ;  in  a 
Reply  of  an  English  Protestant  to  a  Letter  of  an  Irish 
Roman  Catholic;*'  and  *^  An  Answer  to  a  scandalous  Let- 
ter lately  printed  and  subscribed  by  Peter  Walsh,  Procu- 
rator for  the  secular  and  regular  Popish  Priests  of  Ireland, 
entitled,  '  A  Letter  desiring  a  just  and  merciful  regard  of 
the  Roman  Catholics  of  Ireland,  given  about  the  end  of 
October,  I66O,  to  the  then  Marquis,  now  Duke  of  Ormond, 
and  the  feecoud  time  Lord- Lieutenant  of  tijat  kingdom.' 
By  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earl  of  Orrery,  &c.,  being  a 
full  Discovery  of  the  Treachery  of  the  Irish  Rebels,  since 


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BOYLE.  149 

the  beginoiog  of  the  Rebellion  there,  necessary  to  be  con- 
sidered by  all  Adventurers^  and  other  Persons  estated  in 
that  Kingdom."  His  poems  comprise,^^  A  Poem  on  his 
Majesty's  happy  Restoration  ;'*  '*  A  Poem  on  the  Death 
of  the  celebrated  Mr.  Abraham  Cowley;*'  ''The  Dream," 
which  is  altogether  political ;  and  '*  Poems  on  the  Fasts^ 
and  Festivals  of  the  Church  of  England."  This  w^s  his 
last  work,  and  exhibits  manifest  proofs  of  declining  genius. 
He  also  dedicated  to  his  majesty,  "  The  Art  of  War,"  a 
work  which  exhibits  much  classical  ability  and  military 
talent. 

Not  long  after  his  majesty's  return,  the  catholics  of 
Ireland  commissioned  Sir  Nicholas  Plunket,  and  some 
other  gentlemen,  to  present  a  memorial  to  him,  requesting  * 
the  restoration  of  their  estates.  The  protestants,  alarmed 
lest  this  remonstrance  should  take  effect,  chose  the  Earl 
of  Orrery,  and  six  more,  to  oppose  this  measure  in  the 
couDcil.  The  Earl  of  Orrery  had  always  been  so  strenuous 
an  opposer  of  the  catholics  that  they  were  apprehensive 
that  bis  eloquence  and  address  might  influence  the  coun* 
cil  against  tbem.  In  consequence  of  this^  they  offered 
him,  as  Mr.  Morrice,  his  lordship's  chaplain,  assures  us, 
8000/.  in  money,  and  estates  to  the  amount  of  7000/.  per 
annum,  not  to  appear  against  them  ;  but  he  rejected  this 
proposal  with  disdain,  stating  that,  since  he  had  the 
honour  to  be  employed  by  the  protestants,  he  would  never 
have  the  baseness  to  betray  them.  The  cause  was  heard 
with  great  solemnity  before  the  king  and  council:  the 
commissioners  of  the  catholics  urged  their  arguments  on 
the  case,and  expatiated  ori  their  loyalty  and  attachment  to 
his  majesty ;  when  the  Earl  of  Orrery  rose,  and,  after  a  hand-^ 
some  compliment  to  the  king,  stated  that  his  protestant 
subjects  in  Ireland  were  the  first  who  bad  formed  a  party 
for  his  assistance ;  that  the  catholics  had  fought  against 
the  authority,  both  of  the  late  and  present  king ;  and 
finally,  that  they  had  offered  the  kingdom  of  Ireland 
to  the  Pope,  the  king  of  Spain,  and  the  king  of  France. 


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lAO  BOYLE. 

In  proof  of  his  atdertiood,  to  the  great  surprise  of  all  t?ho 
^ere  present^  he  produced  origimd  papers,  signed  by  the 
sDpreme  council  of  the  catholics^  of  which  Sir  Nicholas 
Pluoket  himself  tras  one.  This  unexpected  blow  decided 
the  contest  in  favour  of  the  protestants,  and  his  majesty 
dismissed  the  catholic  commissioners  with  more  severity 
than  he  commonly  made  use  of. 

Shortly  after  this,  his  lordship  with  Sir  Charles  Coote, 
who  had  been  created  Earl  of  Montrath,  and  Sir  Maurice 
Eustace^  were  appointed  lords  justices  of  Ireland,  and 
commissioned  to  hold  a  parliament  for  the  settlement  of 
the  nation.  On  this  occasion  Lord  Orrery,  with  his  own 
hand  drew  up  the  famous  Act  of  Settlement,  which  was 
looked  upon  when  it  passed  as  evincing  the  most  con* 
sUannate  skill  and  address*  The  partial  interpretation, 
however^  which  was  afterwards  put  upon  it  by  the  judges, 
gave  rise  to  wacb  damour  and  complaint,  and  completely 
deprived  the  measure  of  that  conciliating  eSeoty  which 
had  hetfa  intended  by  it,  in  restoring  many  of  the  catholics 
to  their  herediury  possessions.  When  the  Duke  of  Ormond 
was  appointed  lord-lteutenant.  Lord  Orery  retired  to  his 
presidency  of  Muster,  where  he  beard  and  determined 
causes  with  such  judgment  and  impartiality  as  acquired 
bim  the  general  approbation  and  esteem  of  that  province, 
and  induced  the  king,  after  the  fall  of  the  Earl  of  Claren^ 
don,  ta  ofier  him  the  seals.  The  gout,  however,  with 
which  he  was  now  almost  continually  afflicted,  induced 
him  to  decline  a  sitoation  which  required  so  regular  an 
attendance. 

During  the  first  Dutch  war  in  which  France  acted  in 
,  coDfederaoy  with  Holland,  he  defeated  the  scheme  formed 
by  the  Duke  de  Beaufort,  admiral  of  France,  to  get  pos- 
session of  the  harbour  of  Kinsale ;  and  taking  advantage 
of  the  alarm  of  the  neighbourhood,  he  had  a  fort  erected 
aader  his  own  directions,  which  was  named  ^'  Fort  Charles.^ 
He  afterwards  interested  himself  in  aa  inquiry  which  waa 
attempted,  into  the  king's  rev»ue  from  Irdand;   hot 


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BOYLE.  151 

Charles  having  applied  large  tmns  out  of  that  ravcDae^ 
waa  aowilliog  that  the  inquiry  should  proceed^  add  he 
cooseqaeatly  ikiled  in  his  endeavouni  to  procure  it* 

The  ministry  of  England,  which  was  now  principally 
directed  by  Sir  Thomas  Clifibrd,  apprehcniiTO  that  they 
should  not  be  able  to  succeed  in  their  designs  in  Ireland, 
while  Lord  Orrery  continued  president  of  Munsteri  pr»* 
vailed  on  his  nuyesty  to  direct  him  to  discontinue  his  resi- 
dential court,  in  which  he  sat  as  judge  for  that  province, 
as  a  compeosatioQ  for  which,  he  received  8000/.  But  soon 
after^  they  procured  articles  of  impeaclunent  for  treason 
and  high  misdemeanours  to  be  exhibited  against  bicn  in 
the  English  house  of  commons;  on  which  occasion  his 
lordship  in  his  place,  delivered  so  candid,  ingenuous,  and 
satisfactory  a  defence,  that  the  proceedingli  were  dropped. 
He  was,  however,  so  incensed  against  the  ministry  who 
had  thus  attempted  to  destroy  him,  that  when  Charles  IL 
who  fdt  a  real  attachment  to  him,  offered  him  the  post  of 
lord  high  treasurer  to  induce  him  to  remain  in  England, 
be  refused  it;  plainly  telling  him  that  he  was  guided  by 
unsteady  counsellors  with  whom  he  could  not  act« 

Having  been  long  a  martyr  to  the  gout,  the  frequent 
returns  of  which  had  induced  an  ill  state  of  health  for 
some  time  previous,  be  expired  on  the  i6tb  of  October, 
1679,  at  the  age  of  fifty-eight,  leaving  behind  him  the 
character  of  an  able  general,  statesman,  and  writer*  In 
all  these  capacities  we  have  already  had  occasion  to  con- 
sider him,  and  have  seen  that  he  was  deserving  of  high 
estimation  in  each  of  them.  Bat  the  most  distinguishing 
part  of  his  conduct  is  that  happy  presence  of  mind  which 
he  possessed^  and  his  peculiar  dexterity  in  extricating 
himself  from  the  perplexities  in  which  be  was  so  frequently 
involved*  His  generosity  was  great,  but  it  was  regulated 
by  prudence ;  and  bis  charities,  as  we  are  informed  by  bis 
diq>laan,  Mr.  Morrice,  were  extensive  and  uninfluenced 
by  any  narrow  illaberaliiy  of  party  or  religion.  He  pos^ 
nessed  ao  undeviating  integrity  and  rectitude  of  principle^ 


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m  BOYLE 

from  which  we  hare  seen,  on  one  occatioo,  that  bribes 
could  not  bias  him,  and  on  another  he  refused  the  oflTer 
of  4000/.  which  Charles,  who  was  not  so  delicate,  is  known 
to  have  put  into  his  own  priv^-  purse*  His  natural  talents 
were  much  improved  by  literature,  and  bis  wit  and  cou- 
rage rendered  still  more  amiable  by  religion.  His  con- 
versation was  peculiarly  interesting  from  the  knowledge 
of  men  and  manners  which  it  evinced,  and  the  wit  with 
which  it  was  enlivened. 

His  person  (we  are  informed)  was  of  a  middle  size,  well 
shaped  and  comely ;  and  his  eyes  had  that  life  and  quickness 
in  them  which  is  generally  regarded  as  the  sign  of  great 
and  uncommon  talents. 


FRANCIS  BOYLE, 

Viscount  Shannon,  fourth  son  of  Richard,  first  Earl  of 
Cork,  was  bom  on  June  25, 1623.  His  first  essay  in  arms 
was  at  the  commencement  of  the  great  rebellion,  and 
when  his  brother,  Lord  Kynalmenby  was  slain,  he  brought 
off  in  safety  the  cavalry  which  his  lordship  had  com- 
manded, together  with  his  body,  at  the  hazard  of  his  own 
life.  He  continued  very  active  during  the  reign  of 
Charles  I.  in  suppressing  the  rebellion. 

In  1660  he  was  dispatched  to  Brussels  by  his  brother 
Roger,  then  Lord  BroghiU,  to  invite  Charles  II.  to  Ireland, 
in  order  to  procure  his  restoration ;  but  the  exertions  of 
Monk  in  England  having  ensured  his  reception  in  that 
couqtry,  he  did  not  avail  himself  of  the  offer  of  the  Boyles. 
As  a  reward,  however,  for  his  services,  he  was  in  Septem- 
ber raised  by  the  king  to  the  title  of  Viscount  Shannon. 
He  was  also  admitted  a  member  of  the  privy  council, 
made  captain  of  a  troop  of  horse,  and  received  two  grants 
of  lands  under  the  acts  of  settlement.  In  August  16729 
be  was  appointed  governor  of  the  city  and  county  of  Cork, 
and  lived  probably  till  near  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
century. 


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BOYLE.  153 

His  lordship  is  known  to  the  literary  world  as  author  of 
"  Discourses  and  Essays,  useful  for  the  vain  modish  Ladies 
and  their  Gallants;  as  also  upon  several  subjects,  moral 
and  divine,  in  two  parts;''  a  work  which  is  now  very 
rared-^In  Park's  edition  of  Orford's  Royal  and  No^le 
Authors,  is  a  list  of  the  titles  of  the  different  essays  which 
compose  this  work,  some  of  which  are  curious :  as, 

'^8.  Against  maids  marrying  for  mere  love,  &c. 
9*  Against  widows  marrying. 

10.  Against  keeping  of  misses,"  8lc. 

Aubrey,  from  Dr.  Walker's  funeral  sermon  on  Lady 
Warwick,  speaks  of  a  publication  by  Lord  Shannon, 
entitled,  his  "  Pocket  Pistol/'  *'  which  may  make/'  says 
the  preacher,  ^'as  wide  breaches  in  the  walls  of  the 
Capitol  as  many  cannons." 


HON^^E-  ROBERT  BOYLJE. 

^fiis  celebrated  and  accurate  investigator  of  nature, 
equally  distinguished  for  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  and 
the  purity  of  his  morals,  was  born  at  Lismore,  in  the  pro« 
vince  of  Munster,  on  January  25,  1626-7.  He  was  the 
seventh  son  and  the  fourteenth  child  of  Richard  Boyle, 
the  great  Earl  of  Cork.  When  nine  years  of  age,  having 
been  already  taught  to  write  a  good  hand,  and  to  speak 
French  and  Latin  with  great  fluency,  (the  former  with  so 
much  accuracy,  as  to  pass  frequently  when  on  his  travels 
for  a  native  of  France,)  he  was  sent  by  his  father  to  Eng- 
land, to  be  educated  at  Eton  school,  under  the  care  of 
Sir  Henry  Wptton ;  who  discovered  so  much  ability  in 
the  son  of  his  old  friend,  combined  with  so  anxious  an 
inclination  to  avail  himself  of  every  opportunity  to  increase 
his  acquiremenis,  that  he  soon  became  accustomed  to 
regard  him  as  one  of  the  most  promising  youths  in  that 
establishment. 

.  During  his  stay  at  Eton,  he  met  with  several  accidents, 
.which  had   nearly  proved  fatal  to   him.      Being  once 


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IH  BOYLE. 

mouQled  od  a  startiog  horse,  the  animal  reared  pp,  and 
bad  almost  thrown  him  backwards,  when  he  would  cer- 
taialy  have  been  crushed,  had  he  not  fortunately  diseop 
gaged  himself  in  time  from  the  stirrups,  and  thrown  him* 
self  off.  On  another  occasioo,  an  apothecary's  servant 
having  by  mistake  delivered  to  him  a  strong  emetic  instead 
of  a  cooling  draught,  his  life  was  in  great  danger  through 
the  violent  operation  of  so  improper  a  medicine  on  his 
delicate  constitution.  The  most  severe  accident,  however, 
happened  one  night  when  he  was  in  bed ;  the  room  giving 
way,  he  was  enveloped  amidst  falling  timber,  bricks,  and 
rubbish ;  at  which  time,  in  addition  to  the  imminent  dan- 
ger of  .being  crushed  by  the  ruins,  he  would  inevitably 
have  been  choked  by  the  dust  caused  by  the  disturbance, 
had  it  not  been  for  his  presence  of  mind  in  wrapping  the 
sheet  round  his  face,  and  thus  secnriug  to  himself  the 
power  of  breathing  with  freedom.  When  about  ten  years 
old,  he  was  afflicted  with  an  ague,  which  had  occasioned 
so  great  a  depression  of  his  spirits,  that  in  order  to  revive 
him  from  the  melancholy  into  which  he  had  fallen,  they 
made  him  read  '' Amadis  deGaul,"  and  several  other  works 
of  the  same  description ;  which,  as  he  informs  as  in  his  ^ 
Memoirs,  produced  such  a  restlessness  in  him,  that  he 
was  obliged  to  apply  himself  to  the  eiiraction  of  the 
square  and  cube  roots,  and  to  the  more  laborious  optn^ 
cions  of  algebra,  in  order  to  fix  and  settle  the  volatility  of 
his  fancy.  These  studies,  with  the  addition  of  several  of 
the  higher  branches  of  the  mathematics,  he  afterwards 
pursued  with  great  application  and  success,  more  particu- 
larly during  his  residence  at  Geneva. 

After  having  remained  at  Eton  aboot  three  years,  he 
accompanied  hb  father  to  his  seat  at  Stalbridge,  in  Dor- 
setshire, where  he  continued  his  studies  under  the  direction 
of  the  Rev.  William  Douob,  rector  of  that  place,  until  the 
autumn  of  1638,  when  he  returned  to  London.  Here  be 
resided  with  his  father  at  the  Savoy,  till  bis  brother, 
Mr.  Francis  Boyle;  espoused  Mrs*  Eittabfsth  Killigrew, 


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BOYLE.  155 

feir  dft;f«  after  whioh  both  brothers  left  Biiglmd,  under 

the  cmre  of  Mr.  Marcombes^ with  whom  at  his  residence  at 

Geoeva,  they  spent  nearly  two  years  in  the  prosecution  of 

their  studies*    In  their  way  to  that  place,  they  passed  * 

through  Parts  aad  Lyons,  at  both  whioh  cities  they  de**  • 

TOted  some  time  to  observing  every  thing  which  was 

curiotts  and  worthy  of  attention.    From  Geneva  he  made 

frequent  excursions  into  the  neighbouring  countries,  and 

having  on  one  occasion  penetrated  those  wild  and  desolate 

mountains,  rendered  so  gloomily  interesting  by  the  solitary 

life  of  the  austere  Bruno,  and  the  establishment  of  the  first 

and  chief  of  the  ^nonasteries  of  his  order  (the  Carthusian), 

he  was  so  deeply  affiscted,  that  he  relates  that  ^the  devil, 

taking  advantage  of  that  deep  raving  melancholy,  so  sad  a 

place,  his  own  humour,  which  was  naturally  greve  and 

serious,  and  the  strange  stories  and  pictures  he  found  there 

of  Briao,  suggested  such  strange  and  hideous  distracting 

doubu  of  some  of  the  fundamentals  of  Christianity,  that 

thoagfa  his  looks  did  but  little  betray  his  thoughts,  nothing 

but  the  forbiddenness  of  self*dispatch  prevented  his  acting 

it"    In  a  mind  so  well  regulated  as  that  of  Mr.  Boyle, 

diere  could   be  little  fear  of  such  a  catastrophe.    He 

laboured  under  this  melancholy  for  some  months,  and  was 

at  length  recovered  from  it  by  an  inquiry  into  the  founda-* 

tiouM'  the  christian  religion;  which  terminating  in  his 

complete  conviction  of  its  truth,  re-^established  his  mind 

#n  that  firm   basis  from   which   the   wild   and  terrific 

localities  which  surrounded  him,  had  almost  caused  it 

to  totter. 

In  the  autumn  of  1641  he  quitted  Geneva,  and  went  to 
Venice^  whence,  after  spending  a  short  time  in  that  city, 
be  proceeded  *  to  Florence,  where  he  remained  during 
the  whole  of  the  winter.  Hiis  time  he  employed  in 
the  study  of  the  Italian  language,  and  in  forming  an 
aoquaitttance  with  the  works  of  the  celebrated  astronomer 
GaUkO)  who  died  in  a  village  in  the  neighbourhood, 
durittg  Mr.  Boyleli  residence  at  this  place.    In  March  the 


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}5Q  BOYLEU 

next  year,  be  made  an  excursion  to  Rome^  where  he 
arrived  in  five  days,  and  surveyed  the  venerable  relics  and 
antiquities  of  that  ancient  metropolis  of  the  world.  He 
also  visited  such  of  the  adjacent  villages  and  towns  as 
contained  any  object  worthy  of  his  attention^  but  was 
prevented  from  making  so  long  a  stay  as  he  had  intended, 
the  heat  of  the  weather  not  agreeing  with  his  brother's- 
health.  Having  visited  in  his  return  several  of  the  principal 
cities  of  Italy,  he  arrived  at  Marseilles  in  May,  where  he 
received  letters  from  his  father,  informing  him  of  the 
rebellion  in  Ireland,  which  had  just  commenced,  and 
stating,  that  it  was  not  without  much  difficulty  he  had 
procured  the  £50/.  which  he  remitted  to  defray  their 
expenses  to  England.  This  money  they  never  received; 
and  after  waiting  several  months  in  expectation  of  it,  their 
pecuniary  difficulties  were  such  as  to  put  them  under  the 
necessity  of  being  indebted  to  their  governor's  kindness 
for  the  means  of  their  conveyance  to  his  residence  at 
Geneva ;  and  finally,  after  a  long  stay  there,  to  his  credit 
in  obtaining  some  jewels,  from  the  sale  of  which  he  raised 
a  sufficient  sum  to  enable  them  to  reach  England,  which 
they  did  in  1644.  On  his  arrival,  Mr.  Boyle  found  his 
father  dead ;  by  whose  will  he  became  possessed  of  the 
manor  of  Stalbridge  in  England,  and  estates  to  a  conside- 
rable amount  in  Ireland.  His  first  care,  after  hmng 
obtained  from  the  then  government,  protections  for  his 
estates  in  both  countries,  was  to  procure  a  permission  to 
pass  over  into  France,  to  remunerate  Mr.  Marcombes  for 
the  kindness  he  had  shewn  him  in  his  distress;  and  from 
the  generosity  of  Mr.  Boyle's  character,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  of  his  having  done  it  with  great  liberality.  He 
staid  but  a  short  time  on  the  continent,  as  we  find  him  at 
Cambridge  the  following  December. 

He  now  retired  to  his  manor  of  Stalbridge,  where  he 
continued  for  several  years,  devoting  his  time  entirely  to 
the  study  of  chemistry  and  experimental  philosophy;  in 
which  pursuits,  the  ardour  and  abilities  with  which  he 


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BOYLE.  157 

prosecated  his  researches,  soon  introduced  him  to  the 
acquaintance  or  correspondence  of  every  person  distin- 
garshed  either  for  science  or  literature.  These  connections 
were  the  cause  of  occasional  excursions  to  London,  Ox- 
fordyScc.  in  which  he  formed  a  personal  acquaintance  with 
those  scientific  men  whom  he  had  before  known  merely  by 
thfeir  writings;  and  he  soon  became  so  celebrated,  that  in 
1651,  Dr.  Nathaniel  Highmore,  an  eminent  physician, 
dedicated  to  him  his  "  History  of  Generation  ;'*  a  work  in 
which  he  examines  the  opinions  of  different  authors, 
particularly  those  of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby. 

In  May  1650  he  left  Stalbridge;  and  in  l652  went 
over  to  Ireland,  to  arrange  his  affairs  in  that  country, 
which  detained  him  till  August  1653.  He  was  soon  after 
compelled  to  return  to  Ireland  again ;  a  circumstance  he 
would  have  much  regretted,  from  the  interruption  caused 
by  it  to  his  studies,  had  it  not  been  for  his  intimacy  with 
his  distinguished  countryman,  Archbishop  Usher,  with 
whom  he  studied  the  Scriptures  in  their  original  languages 
with  so  great  exactness,  as  to  quote  readily  any  remarkable 
passage  in  either  the  Old  or  the  New  Testament.  He  was 
also  intimately  acquainted  with  the  celebrated  Sir  William 
Petty,  in  whose  conversation  be  took  particular  pleasure. 

A  short  time  previous  to  the  commencement  of  the  civil 
wars,  a  few  of  the  most  distinguished  philosophers  had 
formed  the  plan  of  a  society  for  prosecnting  inquiries  into 
nature,  on  the  principle  of  experiment ;  an  idea  which  had 
been  originally  suggested  by  the  celebrated  Bacon.  Of 
this  Mr. Boyle  was  one  of  the  earliest  members;  and  when 
all  academical  studies  were  suspended  in  consequence  of 
the  tumultuous  times,  this  society, which  was  then  called  the 
Philosophical  College,  continued  still  to  hold  its  meetings, 
though  with  the  greatest  secresy,  first  at  London,  and 
afterwards  at  Oxford.  This  induced  Mr.  Boyle,  on  his 
return  to  England  in  1654,  to  fix  his  abode  at  Oxford, 
where  the  society  then  held  its  meetings;  as  he  was  here 
surrounded  by  a  number  of  his  learned  friends,  such  at 


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IM  BOYLE. 

Wilkipsj  Ward,  Willie,  Wren,  &c,  who  were  all  Amibera 
of  the  Philosopbioal  College,  and  with  whom  be  patted 
his  time  io  the  pleasiog  reciprocatioa  of  imparting  and 
receiving  informatioo. 

During  his  stay  at  Oicford  he  resided  m  the  house  of 
Mr.  Crosse,  an  apothecary,  which  be  preferred  to  a  cot* 
lege,  as  i^  afforded  more  ro<Hn  for  his  experiments,  and 
agreed  better  with  his  health.  It  was  here  Uuu  he  invented 
that  admirable  machine,  the  air*pump;  the  immeose  utility 
of  which  tlK>se  only  who  devote  themselves  to  bis  studies 
can  justly  appreciate:  a  machine  which  has  deteloped  so 
many  facts  as  to  have  led  to  a  nearly  complete  theory  of 
the  air,  and  laid  the  foundation  on  which  chemistry  haa 
been  raised  to  that  high  pinoacle  of  perfection  oo  which 
she  now  stands.  By  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Robert  Hooke, 
professor  of  mathematics  at  Gresbam  College,  it  was  at 
lengtb  perfected  in  1678,  or  1679»  Mr.  Boyle  laboured 
incessantly  in  framing  and  oonductiog  new  experiments ; 
such,'he  said,  being  the  only  true  foundation  of  science,  and 
the  sole  means  by  whicb  it  was  possible  to  arrive  at  • 
knowledge  of  the  operations  of  nature :  and  so  devoted 
was  be  to  this  opinion,  that,  although  the  Cartesian  pfaik>* 
sophy  WHS  at  that  time  much  applauded^  be  would  never 
suffer  himaelf  to  be  persuaded  to  read  the  works  of  Des 
Cartes,  lest,  by  plausible  hypotheses  and  delusive  theories, 
he  mig^t  be  led  away  from  that  truth  for  Uie  estafatiskr 
meat  of  which  be  was  oontiouaUy  engaged  in  collecting 
9saterials, 

Deeply^  however,  as  be  was  devoted  to  inquiries  into 
nature,  hia  attention  was  not  exclusively  db-ected  to  them, 
be  still  continued  to  pursue  critical  and  theological  studies, 
in  which  be  was  assisted  by  L)r.  Edward  Pooock,  Mr. 
Thomas  Hyde,  and  Mr.  Samuel  Clarke,  all  of  whom  were 
eminently  skilled  in  the  oriental  languages.  He  also  cul'* 
tivated  a  strict  intimacy  with  Dr.  Barlow,  afterwards 
B^bop  of  Lincoln,  a  man  of  the  greatest  variety  and 
extent  of  Warning;  who  was  at  that  time  keeper  of  the 


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BOYLEL  159 

Bodleian  Library.  His  frieod.  Dr.  Wallis,  ia  1659,  dedi* 
cated  to  him  bit  excelleot  ^*  Treatise  oq  the  Cycloid/' 
And  in  tbe  same  year  the  learned  Saodersoo,  afterwards 
Bisbop  of  Lincoln,  having  been  deprived  of  all  bis  pre* 
ferments  in  consequence  of  his  attachment  to  tbe  royal 
party, .  Mr.  Boyle  generously  settled  upon  him  a  pension 
of  50/.  per  annum,  to  encourage  him  to  apply  himself  to 
tbe  writing  of  cases  of  conscienoe.  In  consequence  of 
whic^h  this  excellent  logician  printed  his  lectures,  which 
he  bad  read  at  Oxford  in  l647,  ''  De  Obligatione  Con* 
scientisB,''  and  dedicated  them  to  his  friend  and  patron ; 
without  whose  assistance,  so  liberally  bestowed,  this  ex* 
odlent  production  would  have  been  buried,  together  with 
its  pious  author,  in  oblivion. 

On  tbe  restoration  of  Charles  IL  Mr.  Boyle  was  received 
by  that  monarch  with  great  civility,  and  was  solicited  by 
Lord  Clarendon,  and  afterwards  by  tbe  Earl  of  Shaftes* 
bury,  to  enter  into  orders ;  both  of  those  illustiious  states* 
men  conceiving  that  his  unblemished  life  and  extensive 
learning  would  give  additional  strength  to  the  doctrines 
be  should  preach.  This  proposition  was,  however,  d^ 
dined  by  Mr.  Boyle,  who  conceived  that,  as  a  layman, 
bis  works  in  behalf  of  religion  would  perhaps  have  oiore 
effect  than  as  clergyman,  as  being  evidently  free  from  all 
BU$picion<of  interestedoess,  and  therefore  not  liable  to  the 
•coff  80  fireqnently  aimed  at  those  whose  religion  is  con* 
sidered  as  being  merely  their  trade*  In  addition  to  this, 
as  Bomet  has  informed  us  in  bis  funeral  sermon,  be  did 
not  fieel  that  ^^  inward  motion  to  it  by  the  Holy  Ghost/' 
which  be  conceived  to  be  essential  to  take  upon  him  that 
important  charge. 

In  166£  he  commenced  publishing  the  fruits  of  hie 
studies  with  *'  New  Experiments,  Physico*MeohanicaI, 
toncbiag  tbe  Spring  of  the  Air  and  its  Effects,  made  for 
die  most  part  in  a  new  pneumatical  Engine."  This  work 
be  addressed  to  his  nephew  the  Lord  Dnngarvan.  He 
also  published  ^  Seraphic  Love;  or,  some  Motives  and 


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160  BOYLE. 

locentives  to  the  Love  of  God,  pathetically  discoursed  of 
in  a  Letter  to  a  Friend/'  which  was  finished  a«  early  as 
1648,  though  not  printed  till  this  time.  It  is  said  to  have 
been  occasioned  by  a  passion  which  he  is  stated  to  have 
entertained  for  the  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Monmouth. 
Even  so  early  as  this  period  his  fame  had  extended  itself 
beyond  the  limits  of  this  kingdom,  and  Mr.  Southwell, 
then  resident  at  Florence,  informed  him  in  a  letter,  dated 
October  10,  l660,  that  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  (a 
prince  eminently  distinguished  for  his  learning  and  abi- 
lities) was  desirous  of  engaging  in  a  correspondence  with 
him.  The  following  year  appeared  **  Certain  Physiolo- 
gical Essays  and  other  Tracts;"  and,  in  1662,  he  pub- 
lished his  "  Sceptical  Chemist,"  a  work  containing  much 
curious  and  valuable  information ;  and  also  a  second  edi- 
tion of  his  ^'  New  Experiments,"  8cc.  which  we  should  not 
have  noticed,  but  for  the  Appendix  which  was  now  first 
printed,  in  which  the  work  is  defended  with  much  ability 
and  success  against  the  objections  which  had  been  urged 
against  it  by  Mr.  Hobbes  and  Franciscus  Linus.  In  this 
year  a  grant  of  the  forfeited  impropriations  in  Ireland 
was  obtained  from  the  king  in  Mr.  Boyle^s  name,  though 
without  his  knowledge;  but  this  did  not  prevent  him  from 
shewing  a  lively  interest  in  procuring  the  application  of 
those  funds  to  the  increase  and  promotion  of  religion  and 
learning.  As  governor  of  the  Corporation  for  propagating 
the^Gospel  in  New  England,  he  was  also  very  instrumental 
in  procuring  a  decree  in  the  court  of  chancery  against 
Colonel  Bedingfield;  which  restored  to  that  society  an 
estate  of  which  they  had  been  unjustly  deprived,  the  colonel 
having  taken  possession  of  it  after  having  sold  it  to  them 
for  a  valuable  consideration. 

In  1663  he  published  ''  Considerations  touching  the 
Usefulness  of  Experimental  Natural  Philosophy;''  and  also, 
''  Experiments  and  Considerations  upon  Colours;"  to 
which  was  added,  **  A  Letter,  containing  Observations  on 
a  Diamond  that  shines  in  the  Dark."    This  dissertation  is 


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BOYLE.  161 

foil  of  most  curious  and  valuable  remarks  ou  this  subject, 
which  had  beeu  entirely  unexplained  prior  to  this  time, 
and  which  afforded  much  assistance  to  Sir  Isaac  Newton 
in  forming  that  complete  theory  which  has  since  suffered 
so  little  alteration.  Mr.  Boyle,  indeed,  was  so  attached 
to  the  collection  of  facts  only,  that  he  is  said  never,  on 
any  occasion,  to  have  hazarded  an  hypothesis  in  expla- 
nation of  any  subject  in  which  he  was  engaged.  The 
latter  end  of  this  year  he  also  published  an  extract  from 
a  larger  work,  entitled  *'  An  Essay  on  Scripture,"  under 
the  name  of  Considerations  upon  the  Style  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures.'*  The  whole  work  was  afterwards  published 
by  Sir  Peter  Pett,  one  of  Mr.  Boyle's  most  intimate 
friends. 

In  the  same  year,  on  the  incorporation  of  the  Philoso* 
phical  College  by  Charles  II.  under  the  name  of  the  Royal 
Society,  Mr.  Boyle  was  appointed  one  of  the  council;  an 
honour  which  was  certainly  due  to  him,  as  he  might  be 
justly  reckoned  among  the  founders  of  that  learned  body. 
He  continued  throughout  the  whole  of  his  life  one  of  iu 
most  distinguished  members;  and  the  earlier  volumes  of 
its  transactions  are  enriched  with  many  valuable  papers 
from  hb  pen,  in  which  we  know  not  whether  to  admire 
most,  the  genius  which  dictated  his  experiments,  or  the 
unceasing  perseverance  with  which  he  pursued  them. 

The  whole  of  the  ensuing  year,  in  which  he  was  elected 
one  of  the  company  of  the  royal  mines,  was  employed  by 
him  in  the  prosecution  of  various  designs  for  the  service  of 
his  country,  which  was  probably  the  reason  why  he  did 
not  publish  until  1665,  when  there  appeared  '*  Occasional 
Reflections  upon  several  Subjects  ;  whereto  is  prefixed, 
A  Discourse  about  such  Kind  of  Thoughts."  This  excel- 
lent work  is  dedicated  to  his  sister,  the  Lady  Ranelagb, 
whose  name  he  conceals  under  the  fictitious  appellation 
of  Sophronia;  and  contains  thoughts  upon  various  sub- 
jects which  strongly  evince  his  wit,  learning,  and  piety. 
Id  these  reflections,  however,  he  followed  too  closely  that 

VOL.  u  u 


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I6d  BOYLE. 

precept  of  Seneca  ''  OmDibus  rebus,  omnibusque  sermo- 
nibus,  aliqoid  salutare  misceDdum  est ;"  the  meanness  of 
some  of  the  subjects  exposing  him  to  the  ridicule  of  the 
celebrated  Dean  Swift,  whieh  was  severely  bestowed  io 
'^  A  pious  Meditation  on  a  Broom  Stick;  in  the  Style  of 
the  Honourable  Robert  Boyle."  This  was  the  only  attack 
which  Mr.  Boyle  ever  sustained ;  and,  although  we  can* 
not  approve  of  the  severity  of  the  censure,  we  must  allow 
that  his  style  is  occasionally  too  verbose  find  prolix,  and 
this  more  particularly  in  his  theological  treatises.  He  has 
also,  and  not  without  justice,  been  blamed  for  believing 
many  things  too  easily  ot  the  credit  of  other  people; 
although  this  has  been  attempted  to  Ve  accounted  for,  by 
stating  that,  as  he  abhorred  to  affirm  what  was  false  him- 
self, he  was  unwilling  to  believe  others  capable  of  so  mean 
a  practice.  A  certain  writer,  however,  by  way  of  making 
reprisals  upon  Swift  for  this  attack,  wificb  he  affirms  to 
be  as  cruel  and  unjust  as  it  is  trivial  and  indecent,  has 
observed,  that,  from  this  very  treatise  which  he  has  thus 
held  up  to  ridicule,  he  borrowed  the  first  idea  of  his  Gul- 
liver's Travels ;  an  assertion  which  certainly  appears  to  be 
strongly  supported  by  the  following  passage,  which  be 
has  quoted  in  proof  of  his  opinion  : — 

"  You  put  me  in  mind  of  a  fancy  of  your  friend  Mr. 
Boyle,  who  was  saying  that  be  had  thoughts  of  making  a 
short  romantic  story,  where  the  scene  should  be  laid  in 
some  island  of  the  Southern  Ocean,  governed  by  some 
such  rational  laws  and  customs  as  those  of  the  Utopia  or 
the  New  Atalantis ;  and  in  this  country  he  would  intro- 
duce an  observing  native,  that,  upon  his  retjurn  home  from 
bis  travels  made  in  Europe,  should  give  an  account  of  our 
countries  and  manners  under  feigned  names;  and  fre- 
quently intimate  in  his  relations,  or  in  bis  answers,  to  qu^t* 
tions  that  should  be  made  him,  the  reasons  of  his  wonder- 
ing to  find  our  customs  so  extravagant,  and  differing  from 
those  of  his  own  country.  For  your  friend  imagined  that^ 
by  such  a  way  of  exposing  many  of  our  practices,  we 


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BOYLE.  Ite 

^Miidd  oiirtelr^  be  broagbt  unawares  to  coad^ma,  or 
perhaps  to  laagh  at  them ;  and  tboald  at  least  cease  to 
wonder  to  find  other  nations  think  them  as  extraragant 
as  we  think  the  manners  of  the  Dutch  and  Spaniards,  as 
thej  are  represented  in  oor  traveller&'  books/' 

He  also  pnUisfaed  an  important  work,  ander  the  title  of 
^  New  ExperimenU  and  Observations  upon  Cold ;  or,  an 
experimental  History  of  Cold  began  :  ivith  sevaral  Pieces 
tbereonto  annexed/' 

In  August  1665,  he  was  nominated  bj  the  king  to  the 
proTOstdiip  of  fiton  college,  which  was  thoagbt  the  fittest 
employment  for  bim  in  the  kingdom ;  his  excellent  cha- 
racter alone,  without  any  solicitation,  haying  obtained  for 
him  this  noble  appointment.  Power  or  wealth,  howerer, 
had  for  him  no  charms.  Deeply  devoted  to  retirement,  as 
it  afforded  him  the  opportunity  of  employing  his  time  in 
the  manner  most  congenial  to  his  disposition,  so  tempting 
an  offer  had  but  little  effect  on  him,  and,  after  mature 
deliberation,  he  declined  it;  a  step  which  he  took  in  direct 
opposition  to  the  wishes  of  all  his  friends,  who  bad  strongly 
advised  bis  acceptance  of  so  enviable  a  situation.  He  felt 
that  the  duties  it  would  impose  upon  him  would  interfere 
too  much  with  the  studies  he  was  addicted  to,  and  with 
the  course  of  life  he  then  pursued,  which  was  so  congenial 
to  his  constitution ;  and  he  was  besides  unwilling  to  enter 
into  orders,  wbich  he  looked  upon  as  a  necessary  qualifica- 
tion for  a  situation  of  such  importance. 

In  1666  he  published,  at  the  request  of  the  Royal 
Society,  '' Hydrostatical  Paradoxes  made  out  by  new 
Experiments,  for  the  most  part  physical  and  easy ;''  being 
an  account  of  some  experiments  he  had  made  about  two 
years  before,  at  their  request.  He  also  published  '^The 
Origin  of  Forms  and  Qualities,  according  to  the  corpuscular 
Philosophy,  illustrated  by  Considerations  and  Experi* 
ments,"  which  evince  consummate  judgment  and  indefati* 
gable  perseverance  in  the  pursuits  of  truth. 

At  this  time  the  public  attention  was  mucii  engaged  in 


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104  BOYLE. 

caii;(ras8iDg  the  pretensions  of  an  Irish  gentleman,  by  name, 
Valentine  Greatraeks,  who  affirmed  that  he  possessed  a' 
peculiar  gift  of  curing  diseases,  by  stroking  the  affected' 
parts.  In  some  instances,  certainly,  he  had  succeeded, 
owing  most  probably,  to  the  effect  prodoced  on  the  ima- 
gination of  the  persons  who  underwent  this  operation. 
This  gave  rise  to  a  controversy,  in  the  course  of  which 
many  pamphlets  appeared  on  both  sides,  and  at  length 
Mr.  Henry  Stubbe  wrote  ^The  Miraculous  Conformist; 
or,  an  account  of  several  marvellous  Cures  performed  by 
the  stroking  of  the  hands  of  Mr.  Valentine  Greatraeks ; 
with  a  physical  discourse  thereupon,  in  a  letter  to  the 
Honourable  Robert  Boyle,  Esq."  who,  the  morning  after 
he  received  it,  wrote  a  letter  in  answer,  which  evinces  the 
greatest  accuracy  of  judgment  and  correctness  of  style,  com- 
bined with  that  comprehensiveness  of  mind,  which  at  one 
view  taking  in  the  whole  of  an  extensive  subject,  arranges 
it  with  perspicuity.  It  contains  twenty  pages,  and  from 
the  ability  which  it  displays,  can  be  hardly  conceived  to 
have  been  written  in  a  single  morning,  where  we  not 
assured  by  the  unimpeachable  testimony  of  Mr.  Boyle 
himself.  Nor  must  we  omit  to  mention,  that  at  the  very 
time  in  which  Mr,  Stubbe  thus  respectfully  appealed  to 
the  decision  of  Mr.  Boyle,  he  was  engaged  in  a  warm 
attack  on  the  Royal  Society,  not  one  of  whose  members, 
with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Boyle  alone,  escaped  his  severe 
invective. 

In  1668  Mr.  Boyle  left  Oxford,  and  settled  in  Pail- 
Mall,  in  the  house  of  his  favourite  sister.  Lady  Ranelagh, 
where  he  continued  during  the  remaitider  of  his  life. 
Desirous  of  facilitating  every  information  in  his  peculiar 
studies,  he  now  resolved  upon  devoting  a  particular  portion 
of  the  day  to  receive  such  men  of  science  as  should  be 
desirous  of  communicating  their  discoveries  to  a  person  s6 
well  qualified  to  appreciate  justly  their  claims  to  attention, 
and  to  point  out  the  new  lights  they  were  likely  to  throw 
on  the  economy  of  nature.   Such  are  the  claims  of  society 


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BOYLE.  165 

on  those  whose  talents  ^nd  exertions  have  rendej^ed  them 
conspicuous^  that,  had  it  not  been  for  this  /^ell-timed 
arrangement,  Mr.  Boyle  would  have  had  but  /few  oppor* 
tunities  of  continuing  his  studies,  owing  to  the  multitude 
of  those  who  resorted  to  so  celebrated  a  philosopher. 

His  reputation,  however,  as  we  have  already  seen,  was 
not  confined  to  the  country  in  which  he  resided.  It  bad 
spread  itself  over  the  whole  of  Europe:  and  no  foreigner 
who  arrived  in  England  With  the  slightest  taste  for  literary 
or  philosophical  enjoyment,  now  left  it  without  having 
visited  him.  He  received  them  with  an  openness  and 
hospitality  which  were  peculiar  to  him;  and  when  some  of 
his  friends  seemed  to  blame  him  for  suffering  himself  to 
be  so  frequently  interrupted  by  the  visits  of  strangers,  and 
condescending  to  answer  all  their  questions,  he  replied, 
**  that  what  he  did  was  but  gratitude,  since  he  could  not 
forget  with  what  humanity  he  himself  had  been  received 
by  learned  strangers  in  foreign  parts,  and  how  much  he 
should  have  been  grieved,  had  they  refused  to  gratify 
bis  curiosity."  His  laboratory  was  also  constantly  open 
to  the  curious,  whom  he  permitted  to  see  most  of  his 
processes. 

It  is  true  he  made  some  discoveries  in  the  course  of  his 
experiments,  which  he  looked  upon  himself  obliged  to 
conceal  for  the  good  of  mankind.  Of  this  nature  were 
several  sorts  of  poisons,  and  a  certain  liquor  with  which  he 
assures  us  he  could  discharge  all  the  writing  of  any  deed 
upon  paper  or  parchment,  and  leave  nothing  but  the  par- 
ties' names  who  signed  it;  and  that  tlie  place  from  whence 
the  first  writing  had  been  discharged  would  bear  ink  again 
as  well  as  ever. 

It  is  not,  however,  merely  as  a  chemist  that  we  are  to 
regard  Mr.  Boyle.  Chemistry  in  him  was  merely  one 
vehicle  in  which  his  vast  beneficence  of  spirit  exerted 
itself  to  relieve  the  wants  and  alleviate  the  miseries  of  his 
fellow  mortals.  Actively  engaged  in  endeavouring  to 
extend  the  knowledge  of  the  religion  he  professed,  he 


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166  BOYLE. 

expended. lai^e  iumt  of  monej  in  procnriog  translatioot 
6f  the  Scriptures  into  YariotiB  languges,  and  in  causing 
them  to  be  distributed ;  thus  setting  the  example  to  those 
hnmense  establishments  which  have  of  late  years  spread 
abroad  the  Gospel  into  the  remotest  parts  of  the  earth. 
Among  many  other  instances,  may.  be  mentioned  hi» 
sending  to  the  Levant  many  copies  of  ''Grotius  de  Veritate 
Rcligionis  Christi^SB ;"  translated,  principally  at  his  ex- 
pense^ into  Arabic,  by  Dr.  Pocock;  and  his  having  caused 
five  hundred  copies  of  the  Gospels  and  Acts  of  the  Apostles 
to  be  printed  at  Oxford  in  1677,  in  the  Malayan  language, 
and  sebt  abroad.  Pecuniary  donations,  however,  coming 
from  a  rich  man,  are  not  to  be  regarded  as  positive  proofs 
of  a  charity  of  disposition ;  what  he  gives  in  this  way  is 
to  him  superfluous ;  but  when  we  see  a  man  like  Boyle, 
whose  delight  is  in  retirement,  come  forward  as  a  director 
of  the  East  India  Company,  continue  in  that  capacity  for 
many  years,  use  great  exertions  in  their  service,  particu- 
larly in  procuring  for  them  their  charter,  and  all  this  solely 
with  the  intention  of  prevailing  on  the  company  to  assist 
in  propagating  the  Gospel  through  the  medium  of  their 
factories,  shall  we  not  say, ''  Such  is  indeed  the  charitable 
man ;  the  man  who  sacrifices  his  own  comforts  to  minister 
to  the  wants  of  others." 

In  the  midst  of  all  these  exertions  and  studies  for  the 
benefit  of  mankind,  he  was  afflicted  with  a  severe  paralytic 
attack,  from  which  he  recovered,  though  not  without 
much  difficulty,  by  strictly  adhering  to  the  regimen  pre> 
scribed  for  him  by  his  skilful  and  friendly  physician, 
Sir  Edmund  King.  In  1669,  he  published  ''A  Continuation 
of  New  Experiments,  touching  the  Spring  and  Weight  of 
the  Air ;  to  which  is  added,  a  Discourse  of  the  Atmospheres 
of  consistent  Bodies.'*  He  also,  in  the  same  year,  made 
many  additions  to  several  of  the  tracts  he  ha^  previously 
published;  many  of  which  were  now  translated  into  Latin, 
for  the  benefit  of  such  foreigners  as  might  be  unable  to 
consult  them  in  their  original  language.    In  1670  there 


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BOYLE.  167 

appeardd  '^Tracts  abdut  theCostDicalQaalities  of  Things; 
Coflinical  Suspicions;  the  Teoiperature  of  the  Subtenra- 
Dean  Regions;  the  Bottom  of  the  Sea;  to  which  is  pre- 
fixed an  Int)t>dgction  to  the  History  of  particular  Qua- 
lities/' This  work  excited  considerable  speculation,  as  it 
contained  an  iimnense  number  of  facts,  which  were  alto- 
gether new,  and  was,  besides,  founded  upon  actual  expe- 
riments, from  which  legitimate  conclusions  were  drawn ; 
a  method  which  completely  and  justly  exploded  the  phi- 
losophy then  popularly  received,  which  consisted  entirely 
of  a  confased  tissue  of  mere  hypotheses  and  groundless 
conjectures. 

To  enumerate  even  a  portion  of  the  numerous  papers^ 
which  Mr.  Boyle  was  continually  communicating  to  the 
Royal  ^ciety,  would  extend  these  memoirs  far  beyond 
the  limits  which  can  be  allowed  them;  yet  we  cannot 
refrain  from  mentioning  ^*  An  Experimental  Discourse  of 
Quicksilver  growing  hot  with  Gold,''  to  which  was  added, 
another  on  the  same  su1>ject;  as  it  was  regarded  at  the 
time  as  a  discovery  of  the  utmost  importance.  .So  great 
has  in  all  ages  been  the  avidity  with  which  men  have 
pursued  every  thing  which  appeared  likely  to  open  a  way 
to  the  transmutation  of  the  baser  metals  into  gold,  that 
these  papers  excited  a  very  general  attention,  and  were 
regarded  «ven  by  men  of  science  as  a  prelude  to  that 
immense  discovery,  as  is  evident  frobi  a  letter  addressed 
by  Mr.  afterwards  Sir  Isaac  Newton  to  Mr.  Oldenburgh^ 
secretary  to  the  Royal  Society.  Indeed,  it  is  evident,  from 
several  passages  in  his  writings,  that  Mr.  Boyle  entertained 
a  belief  of  the  possibility  of  this  transmutation ;  and  he 
was  afterwards  (in  1689)  at  some  trouble  in  procuring  an 
act  for  repealing  the  statute  then  in  force  against  multi- 
plying gold  and  silver. 

In  1671  he  published  ''Considerations  on  the  Usefulness 
of  Experimental  and  Natural  Philosophy.  The  second 
Part;"  and  also  "A  Collection  of  Tracts  upon  several 
useful  and  important  Points  of  practical  Philosophy.'* 


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168  BOYLE- 

Aod  in  1672,  **  An  Essay  about  the  Origin  and  Virtne  of 
Geins,"  together  with  **  A  Collection  of  Tracts  upon  the 
Relation  between  Flame  and  Air;  and  several  other  useful 
,  and  curious  Subjects,**    In  the  following  year  Anthony  le 
Grand,  the  famous  Cartesian  philosopher^  published  at 
London  his  *^  Historia  Naturae/'  8cc.  and  in  his  dedication 
to  Mr.  Boyle,  he  does  justice  to  his  unirersal  reputation 
for  extensive  learning  and  amazing  sagacity  in  every 
branch  of  experimental  philosophy;  and  says  of  him,  what 
Averroes  said  of  Aristotle,  that  nature  had  formed  him  as 
an  exemplar  or  pattern  of  the  highest  perfection  to  which 
humanity  can  attain.    About  this  time  Mr.  Boyle  pub- 
lished   "  The  Excellency   of  Theology  compared  with 
Natural  Philosophy;"  and  ''  Essays  on  the  strange  sub- 
tlety, great  efficacy,  and  determinate  nature  of  Effluvia ; 
to  which  are  added  a  variety  of  Experiments  on  other  sub- 
jects."   And  in  1674,  "  A  Collection  of  TracU  upon  the 
Saltness  of  the  Sea,  the  Moisture  of  the  Air,  the  Natural 
and  Preternatural  Stote  of  Bodies ;  to  which  is  prefixed,  a 
Dialogue  concerning  Cold  ;*'  and  another  "  Collection  of 
Tracts,  containing  Suspicions  about  hidden  Qualities  of 
the  Air  ;  with  an  Appendix  touching  Celestial  Magnets : 
Animadversions  upon  Mr.  Hobbes'  Problem  about  a  Va- 
cuum; a  Discourse  of  the  Cause  of  Attraction  and  Suc- 
tion.''   In  the  following  year,  1675,  he  published  "  Some 
Considerations  about  the  Reconcileableness  of  Reason  and 
Religion.     By  T.  E.  a  Layman.    To  which  is  annexed,  a 
Discourse  about  the  Possibility  of  the  Resurrection,  by 
Mr.  Boyle."     Both  these  pieces  were,  however,  written 
by  him,  although  the  former  is  marked  only  with  the  final 
letters  of  his  name.    In  1 676  he  published  *'  Experiments 
and  Notes,  about  the  mechanical  Origin  or  Production  of 
particular  Qualities." 

In  1677  there  was  printed  at  Geneva,  without  his  know- 
ledge or  consent,  a  collection  of  his  miscellaneous  wcwks, 
in  Latin,  of  which  there  is  a  large  account  given  in  the 
Philosophical  Transactions.     In  the  following  year  he 


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BOYLE.  1® 

commanicated  to  Mr.  Hooke  some  observatibbs  on  an 
artificial  substance  that  shines  without  any  preceding 
illustration,  which  were  published  by  that  gentleman  in 
his  *^  Lectiones  Cntlerian®/'  And  at  the  latter  end  of  this 
year,  as  a  proof  of  the  high  estimation  in  which  he  was 
held  by  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  we  may  mention  that  that 
celebrated  philosopher  wrote  him  a  very  curious  letter,  in 
which  he  laid  before  him  his  sentimenu  upon  that  ethereal 
medium  which  he  afterwards  proposed  in  his  Optics,  as 
the  mechanical  cause  of  gravitation. 

Deeply  impressed  with  a  just  sense  of  his  great  worth, 
and  of  the  services  he  bad  rendered  to  science  during  the 
whole  of  his  life,  on  the  SOth  of  November  this  year,  the 
Royal  Society  made  choice  of  him  for  their  president. 
This  honour  he,  however,  declined  in  a  letter  addressed  to 
bis  friend  Mr.  Robert  Hooke,  being,  as  he  says,  even 
peculiarly  tender  in  point  of  oaths. 

In  1680  he  published  ''The  ^rial  Noctiluca;  or,  some 
new  phenomena,  and  a  process  of  factitious  self-shining 
substance.''    Phosphorus,  the  substance  here  alluded  to, 
was  then  of  very  recent  discovery.     The  first  inventor  of 
it  was  Brandt,  a  citizen  of  Hamburgh,  who  imparted  his 
process  to  one  Kraaft ;  by  whose  persuasion  he  kept  it  a 
profound  secret.    In  1679  Kraaft  brought  a  piece  of  it  to 
£ngland  to  shew  to  the  king  and  queen,  which  having  been 
seen  by  Mr.  Boyle,  he  actually,  in  the  following  year» 
succeeded  in  making  a  small  quantity,  which  he  presented 
to  the  Royal  Society,  taking  a  receipt  for  it.    The  process 
was   also  discovered  about  the  same  time  by  Kunckel, 
another  citizen  of  Hamburgh.    It  would  not,  however, 
have  been  necess^ryto  be  thus  particular,  had  not  Stabl,  in 
a  small   work,  entitled  ''Three  hundred   Experiments," 
stated  that  Kraaft  informed  him  that  he  communicated 
the  process  to  Mr.  Boyle ;  a  circumstance  which  we  must 
conceive  to  be  entirely  destitute  of  truth,  when  we  con- 
sider the  unimpeached  veracity  of  Mr.  Boyle,  who  would 
never  have  published  to  the  world  as  his  own  disooveryj  a 


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170  BOYLE. 

process  which  he  had  received  from  the  communications 
of  another.  We  are,  indeed,  strongly  inclined  to  regard 
Kraaft  as  a  designing  empiric,  who,  in  revenge  for  the 
discovery  of  his  secret  processes,  endeavoured  to  blast  the 
reputation  of  the  man  who  published  them  for  the  benefit 
of  the  world  at  large.  Mr.  Boyle  afterwards  instructed 
in  the  manipulations  of  the  process,  one  Godfrey  Hantk-> 
witz,  who  exposed  it  for  sale  in  a  shop  in  Southampton 
street,  Covent  Garden,  which  has  since  remained  a  che- 
mist's to  the  present  day,  having  still  his  name  over  the 
door,  with  the  date  1680.  Mr.  Boyle  also  published  about 
this  time,  ^'  Historical  Account  of  a  Degradation  of  Gold, 
by  an  Anti-Elixir;  a  strange  chemical  narrative." 

In  1681  he  published  a  ^'Discourse  of  Things  above 
Reason;  inquiring  whether  a  philosopher  should  admit 
there  are  any  such?"  and  in  the  following  year,  "New 
Experiments  and  Observations  made  upon  the  Icy  Nocti- 
luca;  to  which  is  added,  a  Chemical  Paradox,  grounded 
upon  new  experiments,  making  it  probable  that  chemical 
principles  are  transmutable,  so  that  out  of  one  of  them 
others  may  be  produced ;"  and  also  about  the  same  time, 
"  A  Continuation  of  New  Experiments,  Pbysico-Mecha- 
nical,  touching  the  Spring  and  Weight  of  the  Air,  and 
their  effects/'  In  1683  nothing  appeared  from  his  pen, 
except  a  short  letter  to  Dr.  Beat,  relative  to  making  fresh 
water  out  of  salt.  But  in  1684  he  printed  two  very  con- 
siderable works;  ^Memoirs  for  the  Natural  History  of 
Human  Blood,  especially  the  spirit  of  that  liquor;^  and 
**  Experiments  and  Considerations  about  the  Porosity  of 
Bodies.** 

At  this  time  Dr.  Ralph  Cudworth,  celebrated  for  his 
immortal  work,  "  The  Intellectual  System,'*  wrote  to  him 
in  the  most  pressing  terms,  requesting  him  to  make  an 
entire  collection  of  his  various  writings,  whtch  had  now 
become  so  very  numerous ;  and  to  publish  them  together 
in  Latin ;  "and  then,"  says  he,  '*  what  you  shall  superadd 
will  be  easily  collected,  and  added  aft^wards.  And  I  pray 


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BOYLE.  171 

God  continue  your  life  and  healtb,  that  jou  may  still 
enrich  the  world  with  tnofe.  Yon  have  mnch  outdone 
Sir  Francis  Bacon  in  your  natural  experiments ;  and  you 
have  not  insinuated  any  thing,  as  he  is  thought  to  have 
done,  tending  to  irreligion,  but  rather  the  contrary." 

In  1^5  he  published  ''Short  Memoirs  for  the  Natural 
Experimental  History  of  Mineral  Waters^with  directions 
as  to  the  several  methods  of  trying  them ;"  ^  An  Essay  on 
the  great  Effects  of  even,  languid,  and  unheeded  Motion ; 
whereunto  is  annexed  an  Experimental  Discourse  of  some 
hitherto  little  regarded  Causes  of  the  Salubrity  and  Insa- 
lubrity  of  the  Air,  and  its  Effecu ;"  which  was  received 
with  the  greatest  applause;  and  also,  "  Of  the  Recon- 
cileableness  of  specific  Medicines  to  the  corpuscular 
Philosophy;  to  which  is  added,  a  Discourse  about  the 
Advantages  of  the  Use  of  simple  Medicines.''  In  addition 
to  these  philpsophical  works,  he  obliged  the  world  with  a 
theological  one,  "  Of  the  high  Veneration  Man's  Intellect 
owes  to  God|  peculiarly  for  his  Wisdom  and  Power."  At 
the  commencement  of  the  following  year,  his  ^  Free  Inquiry 
into  the  vulgarly  received  Notion  of  Nature"  appeared ;  a 
work  which  was  so  highly  and  justly  admired  as  to  be 
reprinted  in  the  following  year. 

In  Jane  1686,  his  friend  Dr.  Gilbert  Burnet,  afterwards 
Bishop  of  Salisbury,  transmitted  to  him  from  the  Hague 
the  manuscript  of  his  travels,  which  he  had  drawn  up  in 
the  form  of  letters,  addressed  to  Mr.  Boyle ;  who,  in  his 
answer,  expresses  great  satisfaction  in  ''finding,  that  all 
men  do  not  travel  as  most  do,  to  observe  buildings  and 
gardens  and  modes,  and  other  amusements  of  a  superficial 
and  almost  insignificant  curiosity;  for  your  judicious 
remarks  and  reflections  may  not  a  little  improve  both  a 
statesman,  a  critic,  and  a  divine,  as  well  as  they  will  make 
the  writer  pass  for  all  three.''  About  this  time  also, 
Mr.  Boyle  was  compelled,  though  very  unwillingly,  to 
complain  to  the  public  of  some  inconveniences  under 
which  he  had  long  laboured ;  which  he  did  in  ^^ An  adver- 


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17«  BOYLE. 

tisement  about  the  loss  of  many  of  his  writings,  addressed 
to  J.  W.  to  be  communicated  to  those  of  his  friends  that 
are  virtuosi ;  which  may  serve  as  a  kind  of  preface  to  most 
of  his  mutilated  and  unfinished  writings."  He  here  com- 
plains much  of  the  treatment  he  had  met  with  from 
plagiaries  both  at  home  and  abroad;  and  though  it  is  not 
easy  to  do  so  without  incurring  the  charge  of  vanity,  such 
is  Mr.  Boyle's  manner,  that  it  tends  rather  to  raise  in  us  a 
higher  admiration  and  esteem  for  him. 

In  1687,  he  published  ''  The  Martyrdom  of  Theodora 
and  Didymia,"  one  of  the  productions  of  his  youth;  and 
in  the  following  year  ''  A  Disquisition  about  the  final 
Causes  of  natural  Things ;  wherein  it  is  inquired,  whether, 
and  if  at  all,  with  what  caution,  a  naturalist  should  admit 
them.     With  an  Appendix  about  vitiated  Light." 

Mr.  Boyle  now  finding  his  health  declining  fast  and 
anxious  to  put  his  numerous  papers  and  accounts  of  ex- 
periments in  order,  for  the  benefit  of  the  scientific  world, 
came  to  a  resolution  to  receive  no  more  visitors.  To 
announce  this,  he  put  forth  an  advertisement  stating,  that 
his  age  and  sickliness  require  him  to  arrange  his  writings, 
which  are  much  scattered,  and  some  of  them  decayed, 
and  partly  destroyed  through  the  misfortune  of  his  ser- 
vants having  broken  a  bottle  of  oil  of^vitriol  over  the  chest 
in  which  they  were  contained ;  and  also  that  liis  physician 
and  friends  had  pressingly  advised  him  to  decline  ail  visits 
as  causing  too  great  a  waste  of  his  spirits.  He  thus  gained 
time  to  finish  many  works ;  and  among  others,  one,  which 
was  never  published,  he  mentions  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  as 
a  kind  of  hermetic  legacy  to  the  studious  disciples  of  that 
art.  Preferring  the  benefit  of  the  whole  republic  of  letters 
to  assisting  any  branch  of  it,  he  now  ceased  also  to  com- 
municate any  more  papers  to  the  Royal  Society ;  which 
aiTorded  him  ^ufiicient  leisure  to  publish  *'  Medicina  Hy- 
drostatica,  or  Hydrostatics  applied  to  the  Materia  Medica, 
shewing  how,  by  the  Weight  that  divers  Bodies  used  in 
Physic,  have  in  Water,  oqe  may  discover  whether  they 


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BOYLE.  175 

be  genuine  or  adulterate.  To  which  is  subjoined,  a  pre- 
vious Hydrostatical  Way  of  estimating  Ores/'  "  The 
Christian  Virtuoso ;  shewing,  that  by  being  addicted  to 
Experimental  Philosophy,  a  man  is  rather  assisted  than 
indisposed  to  be  a  good  Christian. — ^The  first  Part.  To 
which  are  subjoined,  a  Discourse  about  the  Distinction 
that  represents  some  things  as  above  Reason,  but  not  con- 
trary to  Reason ;  and,  the  first  chapters  of  a  Discourse, 
intituled  Greatness  of  Mind  promoted  by  Christianity." 
In  the  advertisement  prefixed  to  this  work,  he  mentions  a 
second  part;  which,  however,  he  did  not  live  to  finish. 
But  the  papers  he  left  behind  him  for  that  purpose,  im- 
perfect as  they  are,  are  printed  in  the  late  edition  of  his 
works  in  folio.  The  last  work  which  he  published  him- 
self, was  in  the  spring  of  I691 ;  ''  Experimenta  et  Obser- 
vationes  Physical ;  wherein  are  briefly  treated  of,  several 
subjects  relating' to  Natural  Philosophy  in  an  Experimen- 
tal Way.  To  which  is  added,  a  small  Collection  of  strange 
Reports," 

His  complaints  continuing  still  t<fincrea8e,after  a  tedious 
and  lingering  illness,  which  may  be  regarded  as  a  com- 
plete decay  of  nature,  he  departed  this  life  on  the  30th 
December,  I691 ;  exactly  one  week  after  the  decease  of 
his  dear  sister  Lady  Ranelagh^  which  afflicted  him  so 
much,  as  no  doubt  to  hasten  that  melancholy  event. 

On  the  7th  of  the  following  January,  he  was  buried  at 
St.  Martin  in  the  Fields;  his  funeral  sermon  being  preached 
by  Dr.  Gilbert  Burnet,  whom  he  had  much  assisted  in  his 
publication  of  the  History  of  the  Reformation,  and  who 
had  gratefully  acknowledged  his  kindness  in  the  preface  to 
his  second  volume.  He  states  in  this  sermon,  that  twenty^ 
nine  years  of  intimate  conversation  with  Mr*  Boyle,  have 
enabled  him  to  give  a  complete  character  of  him.  He 
descants  upon  his  zeal  for  the  christian  religion,  and  men-^ 
tions  with  particular  approbation  his  foundation  for 
lectures  in  its  defence  against  deists,  atheists,  &c.  without 
interferiiig  with  any  of  those  points  on  which  christians 


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174  BOYLE. 

are  divided  into  sects ;  and  which  has  since  produced  %6 
maDjT  volumes  of  excelleat  discourses.  He  was  at  the 
expense  of  70Df*  for  printing  the  Irish  bible,  which  he 
cai^sed  to  be  distributed  in  that  country,  as  well  ais  large 
sums  towards  the  Welch  Uble^  and  that  in  the  Irish  Ian* 
guage  for  Scotland,  besides  many  other  gifts  of  a  similar 
nature.  In  other  respects,  the  bishop  informs  us,  so  great 
were  his  charities,  that  they  amounted  to  upwards  of 
1000/.  per  annum. 

He  then  proceeds  te  enlarge  upon  Mr.  Boyle*s  astom'shr 
ing  abilities.  After  stating  and  extolling  his  knowledge 
of  the  Hebrew,  of  the  fathers,  and  of  the  controversies  on 
the  Scriptures,  his  acquirements  in  the  mathematics,  par- 
ticularly in  geometry,  his  accntate  and  intimate  acquaints 
ance  with  geography  and  history,  and  his  skill  in  physic; 
he  says,  *'  but  for  the  history  of  nature,  ancient  and  modem, 
of  the  productions  of  all  countries,  of  the  virtues  and  im* 
provements  of  plants,  of  ores  and  minerals,  and  all  the 
varieties  that  are  in  them  in  d liferent  climates,  he  was  by 
very  much  the  readiest  and  the  perfectest  I  ever  knew  in 
the  greatest  compass,  and  with  the  nicest  exactness.  This 
put  him  in  the  way  of  making  all  that  vast  variety  of  ex- 
periments, beyond  any  man,  as  far  as  we  know,  that  ever 
lived.  And  in  these  as  be  made  a  great  progress  in  new 
discoveries,  so  he  used  so  nice  a  strictness,  and  delivered 
them  with  so  scrupulous  a  truth,  that  all  who  have  ex- 
amined them,  have  found  how  safely  the  world  may 
depend  upon  them.  But  his  peculiar  and  favourite  study 
was  chemistry,  in  which  he  was  engaged  with  none  of 
ibose  ravenous  and  ambitious  designs,  which  draw  many 
into  it.  As  he  made  chemistry  much  the  better  for  his 
dealing  in  it,  so  he  never  made  himself  either  the  worse  or 
the  poorer  for  it.  It  was  a  charity  to  others  as  well  as  an 
entertainment* to  himself;  for  the  produce  of  it  was  dis- 
tributed by  bis  sister  and  others  into  whose  hands  he 
pnt  it." 

Such  is  the  character  of  Boyle,  as  delivered  to  us  by 


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BOYLE.  ITS 

bis  great  contemporary  and  intiaEiale  friend ;  and  from  the 
facta  of  his  life,  and  the  internal  evidence  of  his  writings^ 
we  cannot  conceive  that  the  hand  of  friendship  has  been 
called  upon  to  skr  over  the  fjEinlta  which  might  otheiwiae 
have  appeared,  or  to  place  in  a  stronger  light  the  virtnes 
he  possessed ;  to  draw,  the  character  of  Boyle  it  needed  not 
the  pen  of  a  friend,  it  is  handed  down  to  ns  in  his  works 
of  science,  in  his  religions  reflections,  ami  in  his  deeds  of 
charity. 

Mr.  Boyle  was  in  person,  tall  and  slaider,  with  a  pale 
conntenance,  and  a  weakness  in  his  eyes,  which  made  him 
very  careful  of  them.  His  constitntion  was  so  deUcate, 
that  he  had  cloaks  of  different  snbstances,  to  wear  when 
he  went  out,  and  which  he  put  on  according  to  the  thep- 
laiomettf,  although  he  was  in  his  infancy  committed  to 
the  care  of  a  country  nurse,  his  father,  as  he  informs  us, 
^  having  a  perfect  aversion  for  the  tenderness  of  those 
parents  which  made  them  breed  their  children  so  nice  and 
tenderly,  that  a  hot  sun  or  a  good  shower  of  rain,  as  much 
endangers  them,  as  if  they  were  made  of  butter,  or  /of 
sugar/'  The  effect  of  this  hardy  treatment  was  a  strong 
aiid  vigorous  state  of  health,  whieh  was  unfortunately 
soon  destroyed  on  his  return  home,  through  too  much 
indulgence  and  mistaken  kindness.  For  the  last  forty 
yelurs  of  his  life,  so  low  were  his  health  and  spirits,  that  U 
was  a  wonder  to  all  who  knew  him,  how  he  could  read, 
stady,  make  experiments^  and  write  in  the  manner  he  did4 
He  also  had  an  impediment  in  his  speech,  which  continued 
through  the  whole  of  his  life,  he  having  contracted  it 
when  a  child,  from  mocking  the  stutter  of  other  children 
of  the  same  age.        '  ' 

Mr.  Boyle  was  never  married,  though  he  is  said  by 
Evelyn  to  have  formed  an  attachment  to  the  interesting 
daughter  of  Gary,  Earl  of  Monmouth;  and  there  is  extant 
a  letter  of  Dr.  John  Wallis  to  him,  by  which  we  find,  that 
there  was  an  overture  made  him  with  respect  to  Lady 
Mary  Hasting,  sister  to  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon.    Burnet 


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176  BOYLE. 

informs  us  that  he  refraiiied  from  marriage  at  first  through 
pradential  motives,  and  afterwards  more  philosopbicalij; 
and  from  a  letter  of  his  to  the  Lady  Barrymore  his  niece, 
which  yet  remains,  we  may  infer  that  it  was  neither  owing 
to  a  dislike  to  the  sex,  nor  to  an  austerity  of  disposition, 
every  word  in  it  breathing  the  truest  spirit,  of  gallantry 
and  politeness. 

In  the  habit  of  familiar  intercourse  with  Charles  IL 
James  IL  and  William  IIL  all  of  whom  were  much  at^ 
tached  to  him,  we  might  wonder  that  he  was  never  raised 
to  the  peerage,  especially  as  his  four  elder  brothers  were 
all  of  that  rank.  He  was,  however,  in  the  habit  of  speak- 
ing his  mind  freely,  with  respect  to  the  measures  of 
government,  and  it  might  have  been  conceived  that  these 
kings,  though  pleased  with  him  as  a  man,  might  think 
him  unfit  for  a  courtier,  were  it  not  that  we  are  informed 
that  the  offer  of  a  peerage  was  frequently  made  to  him, 
and  as  constantly  declined.  That  it  is  not  in  the  power 
of  titles  to  ensure  fame,  is  evinced  by  two  of  his  brothers, 
of  whom  we  now  know  nothing  but  the  name ;  while  the 
history  of  the  untitled  Robert  Boyle  remains  as  a  beacon 
to  future  ages,  which  points  out  exertion  as  the  surest 
means  of  arriving  at  splendid  celebrity. 

The  posthumous  works  of  Mr.  Boyle,  are,  '*  The  general 
History  of  the  Air,  designed  tind  begun ;"  a  work  which 
was  highly  esteemed  by  two  of  the  most  ingenious  men 
of  the  time,  Mr.  Locke,  and  Mr.  Molineux ;  as  is  evident 
from  several  letters  which  passed  between  them  on  the 
subject.  '^  General  Heads  for  the  Natural  History  of  a 
Country,  great  or  small ;  drawn  out  for  the  use  of  Tra* 
Tellers  and  Navigators.  To  which  are  added,  other  Direc- 
tions for  Navigators,  &c.  with  particular  Observations  on 
the  most  noted  Countries  in  the  world.  By  another  Hand.** 
^  A  paper  of  the  Honourable  Robert  Boyle's  deposited 
with  the  Secretaries  of  the  Royal  Society,  October  14> 
1680,  and  opened  since  his  death;  being  an  account  of  his 
making  the  Phosphorus,  September  SO,  1680;^'  printed 


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BOYLE.  177 

in  the  Philosophical  Traosactions.  *^  A  free  Discoarse 
against  customary  Swearing,  and  a  Dissuasive  from 
Cursing  ;**  and,  lastly,  ''  Medicinal  Ezperimeots ;  or,  a 
Collection  of  choice  Reniedies,  chiefly  simple,  and  easily 
prepared,  useful  in  Families  and  fit  for  the  service  of  the 
Country  People.  The  third  and  last  volume;  published 
from  the  Author's  original  Manuscript;  whereunto  are 
added  several  useful  Notes,  explicatory  of  the  same/'  The 
first  edition  of  this  work  was  in  1688,  under  the  title  of 
**  Receipts  sent  to  a  Friend  in  America;''  it  was  reprinted 
in  1692,  with  the  additbn  of  a  second  part;  to  which  was 
now  added  (in  1698)  a  third  volume,  as  above. 

These  posthumous  works,  joined  to  those  before  men- 
tioned, together  with  his  numerous  scattered  pieces  in  the 
Philosophical  Transactions,  have  been  collected  together 
and  published  by  Dr.  Birch,  in  6  vols.  4to. 


HENRIETTA  BOYLE, 

Ladt  on  kill,  is  introduced  here  as  the  authoress  of 
several  elegant  little  poems,  which  grace  the  pages  of 
Mrs.  Charlotte  Smith;  for  a  specimen  of  which  we  insert 
ber 

ODE  TO  THE  POPPY 

Not  for  the  promise  of  the  laboured  field. 
Not  for  the  good  the  ycUow  harvests  yield, 

I  bend  at  Ceres'  shrioe ; 
For  dull  to  humid  eyes  appear 
The  golden  furies  of  the  year ; 

Alas !  a  melancholy  worship's  mine : 

I  hail  the  goddess  for  her  scarlet  flow'r ! 

Then  brilliant  weed. 

That  dost  so  far  exceed 
The  richest  gifts  gay  Flora  can  bestow. 
Heedless  I  passed  thee  in  life's  morning  hour, 

Hion  comforter  of  woe, 
Till  sorrow  taught  me  to  confess  thy  powV. 

TOL.  I.  N 


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h78  BOTl/E. 

In  early  d agri,  when  fancy  eheatt, 

A  Tarious  wreath  I  wove, 
O^  laughuAg  spring's  luxuriant'  Hweeb, 

To  deck  ungrateful  foVe. 

*ttktd  td^  of  tbotn  my  nmubers  ctowih'<f , 
A«  VeAdil  slttifd;  dr  Y^us  frowtfdl, 

But  love  and  joy  and  aH  their  trtiM  are  flown ; 
E'en  languid  hope  no  more  is  mine, 

And  I  will  sing  of  thee  alone ; 
fSrA^  perchance  the  attributes  of  giAef, 
The  cypifess  bod  and  willow  kaf» 
Their  pale  AiAereia  foliagO  blend  with  Ihine. 

HailyloTely  faiassom  I  tkm  can's!  ^aie 

The  wretched  victims  of  disease ; 

Can'st  close  tiose  weary  eyes  in  gentle  sleep, 

#hicti  never  open  btit  W  weep ; 

FOroh!  fhy  pottetcfaantt 

Can  agonising  g)$ef  disarm; 

Expel  imperious  memory  from  her  seajt. 

And  bid  the  throbbing  heart  forget  to  beat 

Soul-soothing  plasty  that  can  suak  blessings  give, 
By  Ihee  the  mourner  bears  to  live ! 

By  Hiea  the  hopeless  die ! 
Oh,  6ver  friendly  to  despair, 
Xig^i  sotroi»'s  palUd  votary  da^e. 
Without  a  crime  that  remedy  implore, 

MHilch  bids  the  spirit  from  its  bondage  fl/, 
Vi  court  thy  palliative  aid  no  more, 

No  more  Fd  sue  that  thou  shouldst  spread 
Thy  spell  around  my  aching  head, 
But  wduUi  Conjure  thee  to  bnpaft 
Thy  babam  ibr  a  broken  heaH! 
And  by  tiiy  soft  Lethean  pow'r, 

Inestimable  flower. 
Burst  these  terre^triU  bonds,  aitd  Other  regions  try. 

She  was  the  only  daughter  of  Charles,  Viscount  Dun- 
garvan,  eldest  son  of  John,  Earl  of  Cork,  and  born  in  the 
year  1758.  She  married,  in  October  1777>  John  O'Neill, 
£sq.  of  Slanes  Castle^  in  the  county  of  Antrim,  who  was 
created  a  pelSir  of  Infetehd  ill  Nbvfcftibet  1793,  and  about 
two  months  after  he  had  the  misfortune  to  become  a 
widower. 


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179 


ROGER  BOYLE, 

A  PRBLATB  of  great  learning  and  an  nnblameable  life, 
was  a  nathre  of  Ireland,  and  received  his  education  at 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  where,  being  elected  a  fellow,  he 
continued  until  the  commotions  broke  out  in  1641,  when 
he  retired  into  England,  and  became  tutor  to^Lord  Paulet, 
whom  he  accompanied  in  his  travels,  and  remained  in  that 
family  until  the  restoration  of  King  Charles  II.  He  then 
revisited  his  native  country,  and  was  presented  to  the 
rectory  of  Caragiline  (alias  Beaver),  in  the  diocese  of  Cork, 
and  from  thence  was  advanced  to  the  deanery  of  Cork, 
which  he  enjoyed  until  he  was  promoted  to  the  sees  of 
Down  and  Connor,  (the  letters  patent  of  which  were  dated 
the  12th  of  September,  1667).  He  was  consecrated  in 
Christ  Church,  Dublin,  on  St.  Luke's  day  following,  by 
James,  Archbishop  of  Armagh,  assisted  by  the  Bishops  of 
Kilmore,  Ferns,  and  Leighlin,  from  whence  he  was  trans- 
lated to  the  see  of  Clogber,  on  the  21st  of  September,  1672. 
He  died  on  the  26th  of  November,  l687,  in  the  70th  year 
of  his  age,  and  was  buried  in  the  church  of  Clunes.  He 
wrote  ''Inquisitio  in  Fidem  Christianorum  hujus  Saeculi,** 
Dublin,  1665,  l2mo.  ^'Summa  TheologisB  Christian®,** 
Dublin,  1687,  4to. 

His  Common-Place  Book  on  various  subjects,  together 
with  an  abstract  of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby's  Treatise  of  Bodies, 
in  MS.  is  deposited  in  the  library  of  Trinity  College. 


SAMUEL  BOYSE, 
It  basbten  fissertefj  with  ^opae  truth,  that  the  number  of 
inclividaa|9  to  whom  np  cirppm8tance9  can  t^ach  wisdoni 
14  9b$Ql^pe\y  jcppn^l^s^,  apd  amongst  that  numerous  class 
m^y  bp  incjuiite^  tbp  sfibjept  of  the  present  iQemoir.  H<^ 
wf^  \\^p  only  i^qa  of  hia  fibber,  who  was  an  eminent  dif- 


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180  BOYSE. 

seDtitig  mioister  io  Eogland,  but  accepting  an  invitation  to 
be  joint  pastor  with  Dr.  Williams,  in  Dublin,  be  removed 
thither;  but  at  what  period  he  died  is  unknown.  He  was 
considered  as  a  learned,  pious,  and  useful  divine;  assi^ 
duous  in  the  exercise  of  his  ministry,  and  in  his  conduct 
generally  esteemed.  Samuel,  who  was  io  every  respect 
the  reverse  of  his  father,  was  bom  in  Dublin  in  the  year 
1708 ;  and,  after  receiving  the  rudiments  of  his  education 
at  a  private  school  in  his  native  city,  he  was  sent,  at  the 
age  of  eighteen,  to  the  university  of  Glasgow.  His  father's 
intention  was,  that  he  might  pursue  those  studies  that  are 
preparatory  to  entering  into  the  ministry;  but  before  he 
had  resided  many  months  in  that  metropolis,  his  studies 
met  with  rather  aserious  interruption  by  a  love  affair,  with 
aMissAtcheson,the  daughter  of  a  respectable  tradesman  in 
that  city,  who,  being  possessed  of  both  beauty  and  thought- 
lessness, he  married,  before  he  had  attained  his  twentieth 
year,  and  probably  without  the  consent  of  the  parents  on 
either  side.  This  unwise  connection,  in  addition  to  the 
natural  extravagance  of  his  temper,  involved  him  in 
numerous  pecuniary  difficulties,  which  obliged  him  to 
quit  the  university  before  he  had  completed  his  studies, 
and  to  seek  relief  for  himself  and  his  wife  from  his  father 
at  Dublin.  On  this  expedition  he  was  accompanied  by  his 
wife  and  ^er  sister;  but,  notwithstanding  this  addition  of 
tnterestifig  incumbrance,  and  tbe  general  levity  of  his 
conduct,  his  father  received  him  with  kindness,  and  out 
of  the  scanty  and  precarious  income  which  he  derived 
by  voluntary  subscriptions  from  his  congregation,  and 
from  the  income  of  a  small  estate  in  Yorkshire,  which 
produced  him  80/.  annually,  he  endeavoured  to  maintain 
his  son,  and  to  reclaim  him  once  more  to  the  prosecution 
of  his  studies.  Tenderness  like  this,  however,  the  mere 
mention  of  which  is  sufficient  to  excite  gratitude,  pro- 
duced no  corresponding  effects  on  the  degraded  mind  and 
abandoned  heart  of  his  son;  who,  far  from  attempting  to 
prosecute  bis  studies,  gave  way  to  the  most  unremitting 


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BOYSE.  181 

idlenefts  and  dissipatioo.  In  this  course  too  (it  is  said)  he 
was  unhappily  encouraged  by  his  wife!  who,  while  she 
imposed  upon  the  good  old  man,  by  a  shew  of  decency 
and  even  sanctity,  became  in  fact  both  dissolute  and 
vicious,  and  at  length  unblushingly  shared  her  favours 
with  other  men,  and  that  not  without  the  knowledge  of 
her  husband,  who  is  said  either  to  have  wanted  resolution 
to  resent  her  infidelity,  or  was  reconciled  by  a  share  in 
the  profits  of  his  dishonour.  We  will  hope,  however,  for 
the  sake  of  human  nature  that  this  was  not  the  case,  and 
that  the  hand  of  some  obscure  biographer  inserted  this 
anecdote  for  the  purpose  of  rendering  his  memorial  amus- 
ing, and  thus  sacrificed  fact  on  the  altar  of  fiction* 

His  father  died  in  the  year  1728,  and  his  entire  pro- 
perty having  been  exhausted  in  the  support  of  his  son, 
the  latter  repaired  to  Edinburgh,  where  bis  poetical  talents 
procured  him  numerous  friends,  amongst  whom  were  some 
.  patrons  of  considerable  eminence,  particularly  the  lords 
Stair,  Stormont,  and  Tweedale.  In  1731  he  published  a 
volume  of  poems,  which  gained  him  reputation ;  and  to 
which  was  subjoined  a  translation  of  the  Tablatfire  of 
Cebes,  and  a  Letter  upon  Liberty,  which  had  been  pre- 
viously published  in ;  the  Dublin  Journal.  This  volume 
was  addressed  to  the  Countess  of  Eglinton,  a  lady  of  dis- 
tinguished excellencies,  and  so  much  celebrated  for^her 
beauty  *^  that  it  would  be  difficult,"  says  Cibber,  '^  for 
the  best  panegyrist  to  be  too  lavish  in  her  praise :"  she 
was  the  patroness  of  all  men  of  wit,  and  greatly  distin- 
guished Mr.  Boyse  while  he  resided  in  that  country.  It  is 
likewise  recorded  of  this  damsel,  that  she  was  not  ^tally 
exempt  from  the  lot  of  humanity,  and  her  conspicuous 
accomplishments  were  yet  chequered  with  failings:  the 
chief  of  which  was  too  high  a  consciousness  of  her  own 
charms,  which  inspired  a  vanity  that  sometimes  bet^ftyed 
her  into  errors. 

The  following  short  anecdote  was  frequently  related  by 
Mr.  Boyse.    The  countess  one  day  came  into  the  bed- 


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A4  »OYSE. 

dh^mber  of  bet  youngest  daugbfcr,  then  about  tbirteeli 
years  old,  wtfiles'he^^as  dressfingat  her  toilet;  thecounrteitk 
observing tbe  a^sMt^hy  iiMi  whieb  the  y6utig  lady  wontied 
to  Bet  off  faer  *petioh,  to  'tbe  best  ^dvantagei  asik^ed  lier, 
*  What  *Afe  wouM  giVe  to  be  as  hand^dme  as  her  mamma?'* 
To  wbfdh  Miss  Veplied, ''  As  tnuch  as  your  ladyship  wouM 
give  to  be  as  youiig  as  ineJ*  Tbis  smart  tepeLtt^e,  whkh 
was  at  once  pungent  and  witty,  very  scfnsibly  affected  the 
'countes^;  who^  for  the  future,  Was  less  lavish  of  her  dWh 
dharms. 

tJp6n  the  death  of  the  Viscdtrtft^  StoAnoWt  he  wrote  an 
elegy,  etotrtled*' The  Tears  oftheMu^es;"  in  compliment 
to  her  ladyship's  taste,  as  a  patroness  of  poets.  Lord  Stbr- 
ftudnt  was  so  highly  grati6ed  With  this  inark  of 'respect  to 
l!be  memory  of  his  deceaised  lady,  that  be  brdef^  biiand- 
iome  present  t6  be  made  td  the  author,  whom  howev^  it 
iras  no  easy  matter  to  find,  afs  a  radical  mettdtte^  of 'cbn- 
racter,  and  partiality  fdr  loW  pleasantly,  togiether  with 
tin  aversidn  to  all  d^ent  s6ciety,  bad  tk>sse^sed  bim  »o 
^^ittirely,  that  Boyse's  person  Was  kndwn  onlyamotrg 
the  lower  orders;  and  the  gefaerous  -idteotion  of  Lord 
Stormont  would  have  been  frustrkited,  bad  not  bis 
agent  put  ^an  advertisement  into  the  pi^tpers,  i-equesting 
the  author  of  **  The  Tears  of  the  Muses**  to  call  updn 
bhil. 

These  tub^t(6ttial  ^ tokens  Uf 'iavour,  on  the  part  of 
his  lordship,  and  of  the'Coudteis  of  %linton,  served 
to  pr6cure  for  him  the  ptltroimge  6t  tbe  'Ducbets  bf 
Gbrdon,  Who  likeWise  was  a  person  of  literary 'taste, 
'  and  cultivated  the  correspondence  of  some  of  the  mbst 
eminent  poets  of  her  time:  and  so  desirous  Was  «be  of 
raidng  Boyie  from  obscurity,  and  placing  him  above 
necessity,  that  she  employed  ber  hiterest  ih  prdcuHng  for 
him  the  promise  of  a  place;  and^  accordingly,  gave  bim 
a  letter,  which  he  was  the  next  day  to  deliver  'tb  one  of 
' iihe  commissioners  of  the  customs  at  Edinburgh;  but  it 
udluckily  happened  that  he  was  then  some  miles  distant 


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BOY8B.  183 

frpni  ibe  city,Md  the  moroipg.  on.iphich  he  was  to  ba^  rock 
to  towA  wiUi  borigtaceV  letter,  proved  to  .be  rainy.  This 
trivial  circumstance  was  sufficient  to  discourage  Boy^e, 
wbp  m9»  1  Miner  eocqstomed  ito  look  'beyond  the  present 
pnomeBlb  and  iwb6  ,iaivariably  acted  up  to  the  old  Spanish 
^qtvetibof^f/nvjet* doing  ithattOHdayy  that  can  be  done 
jto-piOffTpIv ;"  (be,  >therefore,  decUaed  ^oing  to  town  oik 
#$cmiit  of  the  rainy  weatber;  ^Bd  while  >he  let  slip  the 
^^{i^rtjttaity,:  the  place  vras  -b^towed  upon  another ;  and 
ilie  was  consoled  by  thcooiniDissioBePs  dedaration,'^^  that 
Jiebad  kept  tbe.pkoe  v^fcabt  for  some  titne  in  expectation 
of  seeing  a  .peraon  recommended  by  the  Duchess  of 
Gordon;'' 

•SQok  is  llhe.8jtc»:y  of  the  •disappointmenty  in  which  aH 
^yse's  faiognipbers  have  acquiesced,  and  which  bears 
^strengly  the  >miu'ks  of  probability.  Its  consistency  has 
rbeen  objected  to  by  some  on  account  of  the  epithet 
^^  90m&im^'  being  applied  by  the  commissioner ; '  but  let 
it  be  remenri>ered  that  ^Boyee '  had  studied,  and  was 
'tiiorott^ly  acquainted  withevery  chapter  of  ^  The  Art  of 
jlQdoleace,''4u>d  that  there  was  no -space  of  time  but  what 
Jie.'W0Uld  liawe.got  rid  of  without  knowing  hour. 

it  is  certain,  that  diis,  as  well  as^very  other  kind  inten- 
tion of  his.  patrons  in *Scetlaad,. were  defeated  by  his  |>eir- 
. vene. conduct  ;>and> that  he  remained  at  Edinburgh  until 
tcetntemptjandpoverty  were  succeeded  by  thedread  ofincar- 
cerntkon.  To.  escape  from  a  prospect,  whieh,  viewed  at  all 
•fifm^U,  aprpeascid  dreary  in  the  extreme,  he  determined  on 
•  visiting  I^ndon;  and  had  no  sooner  communicated  his 
.des^n;of  going  to  England,  than  the  Duchess  of  Goitlon 
(,wbo,9till  retained  a  bigb  opinion  of  his  poetical  abilities) 
i^ne  him  ajrecomniendatory  letter  to  Mr.  Pope,  and 
ilQJbtained  anotber  for  him  to  Sir  Peter  King,  then  loid 
/  jchanceUor,  and  procmred  for  Um  several,  to  persons  of  rank, 
ifadMAn,  and  influence.  Liord  Stormont  also  recommenided 
faiin  to  his  brother,  the  solicitor-general,  afterwards  the 
rcelebcated  Lord  Mansfield.     Upon  receiving  these  let* 


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481  BOYSE. 

ten,  he,  with  great  cautioo,  quitted  Edinburgh ;  and  his 
abftence  was  regretted  by  a  numeroas  class  of  society — his 
creditors. 

On  his  arrival  in  London,  in  1737,  he  waited  on  Pope, 
bat  as  he  happened  to  be  from  home,  he  never  repeated 
his  visit.  There  is  some  reason  to  think,  however,  that  he 
was  afterwards  known  to  Pope,  who  acknowledged  that 
there  were  lines  in  his  poem  of**  The  Deity'*  which  he 
should  not  have  been  ashamed  to  have  written ;  and  Boyse 
complains  to  one  of  his  correspondents,  that  nothing  was 
approved  of  unless  sanctioned  by  the  infallibility  of  a 
Pope.  By  the  lord  chancellor  he  is  said  to  have  been 
received  with  kindness,  and  to  have  been  occasionally 
admitted  to  his  lordship's  table.  So  despicable  were  his 
habits,  however,  and  such  his  aversion  to  polite  company 
and  rational  society,  that  this  latter  part  of  his  history, 
which  he  used  to  relate  himself,  has  been  doubted  by  those 
who  lived  near  enough  his  time  to  have  known  the  fact. 

Whatever  advantages  he  derived  from  the  recommen- 
dations he  brought  with  him  from  Scotland,  they  made 
not  the  smallest  alteration  in  his  line  of  conduct,  in  that 
he  was  lamentably  consistent;  and,  consequently,  was 
speedily  reduced  to  a  state  of  extreme  indigence,  from 
which  he  attempted  no  means  of  extricating  himself,  but 
by  writing  complimentary  poems  and  mendicant  letters, 
except  that  he  frequently  applied  for  assistance  to  several 
eminent  dissenters,  from  whom  he  received  numerous 
benefactions,  in  consequence  of  the  respect  which  they 
paid  to  his  father's  memory.  But  such  supplies  were 
quickly  dissipated  in  the  lowest  gratifications,  and  his 
friends  were  at  length  tired  of  exerting  their  bounty,  that  ' 
was  thus  rendered  useless  to  the  object  of  it.  The  author 
of  his  life  in  Gibber's  works  informs  us,  that,  *'  Often 
when  he  had  received  half  a  guinea  in  consequence  of  a 
supplicating  letter,  he  would  go  into  a  tavern,  order  a 
supper  to  be  prepared,  drink  of  the  richest  wines,  and 
spend  all  the  money  that  had  just  been  given  him  in 


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BOYSE.  186 

diaritjy  without  having  aojr  one  to  participate  the  regale 
with  hiiDy  and  while  his  wife  and  children  were  .starving 
at  home/'  If  this  anecdote  be  fact,  it  is  altogether  so 
disgusting  and  of  so  heartless  a  nature,  that  we  rej<HCe 
while  we  write  that  we  believe  it  to  be  nnequalled  in 
the  annals  6f  depravity.  . 

About  the  year  1738  he  published  a  second  volume  of 
poems,  but  with  what  success  is  not  known ;  and,  as  he  did 
not  put  his  name  to  this  volume,  his  biographer  has  not 
.been  able  to  find  any  mention  of  it.  In  the  year  1740  he 
was  reduced  to  the  lowest  state  of  poverty,  having.no 
clothes  left  in  which  he  could  appear  abroad;  and  what 
bare  sul^sistence  he  procured  was  by  writing  occasioiial 
poems  for  the  magazines*  Of  the  disposition  of  his  appa- 
rel, Mr.  Nichols  received  from  Dr.  Johnson,  who  knew 
him  well,  the  following  account:  He  used  to  pawn  what 
he  had  of  this  sort,  and  it  was  no  sooner  redeemed  by  his 
friends,  than  pawned  again.  On  one  occasion  Dr.  John- 
son collected  a  sum  of  money  for  this  purpose,  (*^  the  sum, 
(said  Johnson)  was  collected  by  sixpences,  at  a  time  when 
to  me  sixpence  was  a  serious  consideration ;")  and  in  two 
days  the  clothes  were  pawned  again,  in  this  state  he 
remained  in  bed,  with  no  other  covering  than  a  blanket, 
with  two  holes,  through  which  he  passed  his  arms  when 
he  sat  up  to  write.  The  author  of  his  life,  in  Gibber,  adds, 
that  when  his  distresses  were  so  pressing  as  to  induce  him 
to  dispose  of  his  shirt,  he  used  to  cut  some  white  paper  in 
slips,  which  he  tied  round  his  wrists,  and  in  the  same 
manner  supplied  his.  neck.  In  this  plight  he  frequently 
appeared  abroad,  while  bis  other  apparel  was  scarcely 
sufficient  for  the  purposes  of  decency. 

While  in  this  wretched  state,  he  published  **The  Deity," 
a  poem,  which  was  highly  praised  by  some  of  the  best 
critics  of  the  age.  Among  those  whose  praise  was  of  con- 
siderable value,  Hervey  introduced  the  mention  of  it  in^'his 
Meditations,  ^'as  a  beautiful  and  instructive  poem;**  and 
Fielding,  in  his  Tom  Jones,  after  extractii^  a  few  lines. 


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^S6  BOVSE. 

«M^'tfaikt  thiey  aretdeea  from*^^  very  noble  poem,  called 
the®eity,  pufbMiei  about  nine-yeors  ago  (174»),aod  tong 
«hi6fe  buried  in  obUviou ;  a  prdcf  that  ^ood  books  no  iftore 
than  good  meo,  do  alw«y«  survive  the4)ad.''   These  •eaco<- 
(tftiiuns  t^uded  to  revive  the  poem,  of  which  a  third  edition 
was  published  in  1752;  and  it  has  Bince  been  reprinted  in 
^various  collections.    Fidding's  respect  for  this  poem  was 
mnifonn.    -He  praised  it  in  a  periodical  paper,  called  The 
iOhampion,  dated  February  18,  1739-40,  but  at  the  same 
time  points  Out  its  defects,  and  seems  to  object  to  the 
^autho^  orthodoxy.    An  account  of  the  Deity  was  sent 
no  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  and,  although  not  inserted, 
'Was  probably  the  means  of  Boyse's  introduction  to  Mr. 
*Oave,'from  whom  he  obtained  some  supplies  for  writing 
tind  translating  in  that  journal  between  the  years  1741  and 
1743.    Cave's  practice  was  to  pay  by  the  hundred  lines, 
wbich  after  a  while  he  wanted  poor  Boyse  to  make  what  is 
called  the  fowg"  Aimrfr«/.    His  usual  signaturefor  his  poenrs 
'was  Y.  Of  AkcBtis.  When  in  a  spunging-house  in  Grocer's- 
•all^,in  the  Poultry,  he  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Cave, 
which  was  communicated  by  the  late  Mr.  Astle  to  the 
editor  of* the  Biographia  Britannica. 

"Inscription  for  St.  Lazarus'  Cave. 
Hodie,  teste  ccelo  sniiimo, 
Sine  panDO,  sine  numiiio, 
8artepa8il«siilfett^» 
Sciibo  tibi  dalenB  moesU : 
Fame,  bile»  tome^  j  ecur, 
Urbane,  mitte  opem,  precor; 
-Tibi  «iiiiii  COT  hmnamiin 
Non  imalfealieBnm : 
Mlhi  mens  nee  male  grata, 
Pro  k  te  favore  data. 
Ex  gehenna  debitoria,  Alcjcui. 

*  Vnlgo  domo  spongtatoria. 

"Sir, 
**  Lwroie  you  yestevday aniacoount  of  my  unhappy  case. 
,  I  ^am 'every. moment  threatened  lo  be  turned  put  here, 


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teeaase  I  bat^  a6t  money  to  fmy  for  my  bed  two  vigbts 
pasty  which  is  atilally  paid  bcrfbrcv^hand,  and  I  am  lo^  to 
Jigolnto  tbe'Oompter 'tilM  can  see  if  my  affair  can  possibly 
<be  made  np :  I  bofpe  tbefefone  j<m  will  have  the  tbamrnoity 
^  send  ine  batf  a  gaidea  fear  ^sapport,  Hill  I  finish  your 
'pfiipers  ifi  tay  hands. — ^The  Ode  to  'the  fimtish  Ntiiian 
1  tope  to  'banre  done  lo-day,  und  want «  proof  copy  of  ^ that 
•part  ofStcme  ycMi  design  for^tlie  present  iMgasine,  that  it 
-asay  be  improved  as  far  'as  possible  from  yonr  assistaiicte. 
Yoor  papers  aire  hvn  ill  tmnaeribed.  I  agvee  with  you  as 
'to  St.  Angtistin's  Cave,  i  hnmlbly  entreat  your  aaswt*, 
4iaVitig^otmst«d^afiy  thing  iainee  Tuesday  evesiing  I  came 
here,  and  my  coat  will  be  taken  off  my  back  for  the 
'tiharge  of  the  bed,  ao  thitt  I  mutt  go  into  prison  naked, 
^hich^s  too  shocking  for'^eto  think  of. 

^  1  ato,  irith  •sincere  regard,  Sir, 

Yotlr  itnibnunate  bumble  aenraot, 
S.  Bayaa'.'' 
''  Cr(^h  6offee*h<>bse,GrocerV 
alley,  Poultry,  July  21,  1742." 

"July  21,  1742. 

"  Redeiipedfrom  Mr.  Onve'the  sum- of  half-a-guineai  by 
^ne,  in  •confinement.  S.  BoYsa. 

'' lOf .  &t  Sent. 

''  I  iend  Mr«  Van  Haren's  Ode  dn  Britain.^ 
"  To- Mr.  Care,  at  St.  John^srgate,  aerkenwell." 

The  Ode  on  the  British  Nation,  mentioned  her^  is  ^ 
translation  from  Van  Haren,  a  Butch  :poet,  from  whose 
works  be  translated  some  other  passages.  The  *'  part  of 
Stowe*'  was  a  part  of  his  poem  on  Lord  Cobham's  gardens. 

The  greater  number  of  the  poems  which  he  wrote  for 
the  Gen tlemto's  Magazine  during  the  years  above  men* 
tinned,  are  reprinted  in  the  late  edition  of  the  finglith 
PoeU;  but  all  ^  his  fugitive  pieoes  were  not  writUn  for 
the  magazine,  some  of  them  having  been  composed  long 
before  he  had  formed  a  connection  with  Cave,  and,  as  there 


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188  BOYSE. 

is  reason  to  believe,  sent  in  manuscript  to  such  persons  ai 
were  likely  to  make  bim  a  pecuniary  return. 

By  a  letter  to  Dr.  Birch*,  dated  October  £3,  1742,  it 
appears,  that  he  had,  among  many  similar  projects,  an 
intention  of  publishing  a  translation  of  Voltaire's  poetical 
works,  and  sent  to  the  Doctor  a  specimen  of  three  of  bis 
Ethic  epistles.  On  the  next  day,  he  sent  another  letter 
supplicating  assistance,  and  assuring  Dr.  Birch  that  his 
distress  was  not  in  any  way  the  effect  of  his  own  miscon- 
duct! In  a  letter  dated  November  5,  after  acknowledging 
Dr.  Birch's  kindness  to  him,  and  urging  him  to  make  his 
case  known  to  others,  he  gives  the  following  account  of 
himself: — 

''I  am»  Sir,  the  only  son  of  Mr.  Boyse  of  Dublin,  a  man 
whose  character  and  writings  are  well  known.  My  father 
died  in  1728  in  very  involved  circumstances,  so  that  1  had 
nothing  left  to  trust  to,  but  a  liberal  education.  In  1730 
I  removed  to  Edinburgh,  where  I  published  a  Collection 
of  Poems,  with  a  translation  of  the  Tablature  of  Cebes. 
After  some  years  stay  there,  and  many  disappointments, 
1  came  in  1737  to  London,  where  I  have  done  several 
essays  in  the  literary  way  (chiefly  poetry)  but  with  slender 
encouragement.  Mr.  Cave,  for  whose  magazine  I  have 
done  many  things,  and  at  whose  desire  I  removed  to  this 
neighbourhood  (St.  John's  Court,  Clerkenwell,)  has  not 
used  me  so  kindly  as  the  sense  he  expressed  of  my  services 
gave  me  reason  to  expect.  Learning,  however  it  may  be 
a  consolation  under  a£3iction,  is  no  security  againjst  the 
common  calamities  of  life.  I  think  myself  capable  of 
business  in  the  literary  way,  but  by  my  late  necessities  am 
unhappily  reduced  to  an  incapacity  of  going  abroad  to 
seek  it.  I  have  reason  to  believe,  could  I  wait  on  Lord 
HaliiBx,  (which  a  small  matter  would  enable  me  lo  do) 
I  should  receive  some  gratuity  for  my  dedication,  so  as  to 
make  me  easy.  This  is  all  the  hope  I  have  left  to  save  me 

*  MSS.  Birch,  4S01,  in  Brit  Mut. 


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BOYSE.  18& 

from  the  ruin  that  seems  to  threaten  me  if  I  continue 
longer  in  the  condition  I  am  in :  and  as  I  sboold  be  willing 
most  gratefully  to  repay  any  assistance  I  might  receive 
out  of  my  lord's  bounty,  so  I  should  ever  retain  a  deep 
impression  of  the  obligation.  I  humbly  beg  yon  will 
forgive  this  liberty,  and  believe  me,  with  the  greatest 
gratitude  and  esteem, 

"  Yours,  8cc. 

'^  P.  S.  Mrs.  Boyse  has  so  deep  a  sense  of  your  goodness 
that  it  is  with  difficulty  she  undertakes  this." 

Mrs.  Boyse  was  generally  employed  in  conveying  his 
letters  of  this  description,  and  if  she  felt  so  much  on 
delivering  the  above,  her  feelings  were  again  tried  on  the 
l6th  of  the  same  month,  when  Boyse  sent  another  impor* 
tunate  letter,  which  Dr.  Birch  probably  found  it  necessary 
to  disregard.  When  he  had  thus  exhausted  the  patience 
of  some,  he  made  attempts  on  the  humanity  of  others  by 
yet  meaner  expedients.  One  of  these  was  to  employ  his 
wife  in  circulating  a  report  that  he  was  just  expiring;  and 
many  of  his  friends  were  surprised  to  meet  the  man  in 
the  streets  to-day,  to  whom  they  had  yesterday  sent  relief, 
as  to  a  person  on  the  verge  of  dissolution.  Proposak  for 
works  written,  or  to  be  written,  was  a  more  common  trick : 
besides  the  translation  of  Voltaire^  we  find  him,  in  one  of 
his  letters,  thanking  Sir  Hans  Sloane's  goodness  in  encou* 
raging  his  proposals  for  a  life  of  Sir  Francis  Drake.  But 
these  expedients  soon  lost  their  effect:  his  friends  became 
ashamed  of  his  repeated  frauds  and  the  general  meanness 
of  his  conduct,  and  could  only  mix  with  their  contempt 
some  hope  that  his  brain  was  disordered. 

In  1743,  he  published  without  his  name,  an  ode  on  the 
battle  of  Dettingen,  entitled  "Albion's  Triumph,"  a  frag- 
ment of  which  is  printed  in  the  last  edition  of  the  Poets. 
In  1745  we  find  him  at  Reading,  where  he  was  employed 
by  the  late  Mr.  David  Henry  in  compiling  a  work,  pub* 
lished  in  1747,  in  two  volumes  octavo,  under  the  title  of 


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V^  BOYSflSv 

'^  An  HUtorWal  Review  of  tbe  Traosi^U9i\«  of  Europe^ 
jvom  theCommeooeii^eDt  of  theWar  with  Sp$ia  ia  1739  to 
thei  Ifiturrectioa  in  ScoUaod  in  1745 ;  wi^  the  Proceedings 
in  IVrliament)  aad  tbe  most  remarkable  Domestic  OccuJif- 
reoees  diirmg  tt^t  period*  To  wbicbi  is  added,  an  impar* 
tial  History  of  the  late  RebelUoD^  interspered  with  Cha^ 
racters  and  Memoirs,  and  illustrated  with  Notes/'  To  thisi 
he  affixed  his  name,  with  the  addition  of  M  Jl.  a  degree 
which  it  is  probable  he  assumed  without  authority.  The 
work,  however,  considered  as  a  compilation  qf  recent  apd 
consequently  very  imperfectly-known  events,  is  said  to. 
possess  considerable  merit.  In  a  letter,  published  by  Mr. 
Nichols,  we  have  some  information  relative  to  it,  and  tq 
the  present  state  of  his^  mind  apd  ^tuation: — *^  My  salary 
is  wretchedly  small  (balf-arguinea  a  week)  both  for  writing 
the  history  and  correcting  the  pr^s;  b^t  I  bless  Gq^ 
I  enjoy  a  greater  degree  of  health  than  I  have  known  fqr 
many  years,  and  a  serene  melancholy,  which  I  prefer  ^i 
the  most  poignant  sensations  of  pleasure  I  ever  knew. — Al) 
I  sigh  for  is  a  settlement,  with  some  degree  of  indepen- 
dence, for  my  last  stage  of  life,  that  I  may  have  \i^e  coipfor^ 
of  my  poor  dear  girl  to  be  near  me,  and  close  my  eyfss^ 
I  should  \>e  glad  to  know  if  you  have  seen  my  histpry,  fropi^ 
which  you  must  not  expect  great  things,  fis  \  have  beep 
over-persuaded  to  put  my  name  to  a  composure,  for  yfk'ioh 
we  ought  to  have  had  at  least  more  time  and  better  mat^ 
rials,  and  from  which  1  have  neither  profit  nor  reputf^tJQR 
to  expect.  I  am  now  beginning  ^^The  History  pf  the 
Rebellion,''  a  very  difficult  and  invidious  t^sk'  All  ^§ 
accounts  I  have  yet  seen  are  either  defeptiv^  coofi^sed, 
or  heavy.  I  think  myself,  from  my  long  residence  in  Sept- 
land,  net  unqualified  for  the  attempt,  but  I  apprehend  it 
is  premature;  and,  by  waiting  a  year  or  two,  better  vf^^t 
terials  would  offer.  Some  account,  I  think,  will  probably 
be  published  abroad,  and  give  us  light  into  many  t^iingf 
we  are  now  at  a  loss  to  aooount  for.  I  am  about  a  trans- 
lation (at  my  leisure  hours)  of  an  invaluably  Srpn<ih  wprk^ 


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mtided  '^LfHistom  lJniiver$dle/'  by  die  late  M.  Bossuet;, 
Bisiiop^of  Meaox,  apcl  preceptlor  to  tfae  dBupbin^  Met 
soa  of  LewisiXtV*  I  propose  only  to  |pTe  Us  ditseitationji 
on  the  a&cieat  empires,  mu  the  BgyptMU^  AssyriaD^  Gt«4 
ciaoy  aod  RomaOy  wbicb  he  baa  described  with  smptisiog 
coociscness^  ami  viith  eqoid  jodgmeot  and  beaety.  I  de<^ 
sign  to  inscEibe  ii  to  the  RtghA  Hosourable  Mr.  Lytieltoo, 
ooe  of  the  lords-  of  ikc  treas«ffy,  one  of  the  BMst  amiable 
men  I  have  eYer  kaowii,  and  to  whose  ancoiuinoD  good** 
oess,  if  you  knew  my  obbgatioiK^  ytm  woald  esteem  bim^ 
as  much  as  he  desenres*." 

Darii^  his  residence  at  Readiag^  his  wife  died,  aod 
•notwithstaiidiog  tbe  good  sense  expiessed  in  the  above 
letter^  be  put  on  airs  of  concern  on  this  occasion^  wMcb 
iDcIiues  us  to  think  that  intemperauce  bad  in  some  degree 
injuied  bis  reason.  Beiog  unable  to  purchase  mourning, 
be  tied  a  piece  of  black  ribbon  round  the  neck  of  a^ 
lap^<U)g  which  he  carried  about  in  his  aarms;  and  when  in 
liquor,  be  always  indulged  a  dream  of  bis  wife's  being  stiH 
idive,  and  would  talk  very  spitefully  of  those  by  whom  he 
suspected  she  was  entertained.  This  he  never  mentioned; 
however,  but  in  his  cups,  which  was  as  often  as  be  bad- 
money  to  spend.  The  mamier,  it  is  added,  by  bis  bio« 
grapber,  of  bis  becoming  intoxicated,  was  very  particular. 
Ab  he  had  no  spirit  to  keep  good  company,  he  retired  to 
some  obscure  ale-house,  and  regaled  himself  with  hot  two- 
penny, which,  thongb  he  drank  in  very  great  quantities, 
yet  he  bad  never  more  than  a  pennyworth  at  a  time.  Such 
a  practice  rendered  him  so  completely  sottish,  that  his 
abilities,  as  an  author,  were  sensibly  impaired* 

After  his  return  from  Reading,  his  behaviour,  it  is  said^ 
becaipe  so  decent,  that  hopes  were  entertained  of  his 
reformation.  He  now  obtained  some  employment  from 
tbe  booksellers  in  translating,  of  which,  from  the  French 
language  at  least,  be  was  very  capable;  but  his  former 
iffiegolarities  had  gradually  undermined  his  constitution, 
and.  enfeebled  his  powers  both  of  body  and  mind.    He 


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19«  BOYSE. 

died,  after  a  liagering  illness,  in  obscure  lodgings  Dear 
Shoorlane,  in  the  month  of  May  1749*  The  manner  of  bis 
death  is  varionsly  related.  Mr.  Giles,  a  collector  of  poems, 
•ays  be  was  informed  by  Mr.  Sandby,  the  bookseller,  that 
Boyse  was  found  dead  in  his  bed,  with  a  pen  in  his  hand, 
and  in  the  act  of  writing:  and  Dr.  Johnson  informed 
Mr.  Nichols  that  he  was  run  over  by  a  coach,  when  in  a 
fit  of  intoxication ;  or  that  he  was  brought  home  in  such 
a  condition  as  to  make  this  probable,  but  too  far  gone 
to  be  able  to  give  any  account  of  the  accident. 

Another  of  Mr.  Nichols's  correspondents  produces  a 
letter  from  Mr.  Stewart,  the  son  of  a  bookseller  at  Edin- 
burgh, who  had  long  been  intimately  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Boyse,  io  which  the  particulars  of  his  death  are  related  in 
a  different  manner. 

"  Poor  Mr.  Boyse  was  one  evening  last  winter  attacked 
in  Westminster  by  two  or  three  soldiers,  who  not  only 
robbed  him,  but  used  him  so  barbarously,  that  he  never 
recovered  the  bruises  he  received,  which  might  very  pro- 
bably induce  the  consumption  of  which  he  died.  Aix>ut 
nine  months  before  bis  death  he  married  a  cutler's  widow, 
a  native  of  Dublin,  with  whom  he  had  no  money;  but  she 
proved  a  very  careful  nurse  to  him  during  his  lingering 
indisposition.  She  told  me,  that  Mr.  Boyse  never  ima^ 
gined  he  was  dying,  as  he  always  was  talking  of  his  reco- 
very; but,  perhaps,  his  design  in  this  might  be  to  comfort 
her,  for  one  incident  makes  me  think  otherwise.  About 
four  or  five  weeks  before  he  breathed  his  last,  his  wife 
went  out  in  the  morning,  and  was  surprised  to  find  a  great 
deal  of  burnt  papers  upon  the  hearth,  which  he  told  her 
were  old  bills  and  accpmpts;  but  I  suppose  were  his  ma- 
nuscripts, which  he  had  resolved  to  destroy,  for  nothing 
of  that  kind  could  be  found  after  his  death.  Though  from 
this  circumstance  it  may  be  inferred  that  he  was  appre-> 
hensive  of  death,  yet,  I  must  own,  that  he  never  intimated 
it  to  me,  nor  did  he  seem  in  ihe  least  desirous  of  any 
spiritual  advice.  For  some  months  before  bis  end,  he  bad 


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BOYSE.  I9S 

kft  off  drinkiiig  all  fermMted  liquors,  eaoe^  now  and 
thto  a  glass  of  wine  to  sapport  bis  spirits,  and  tka%  h« 
took  very  moderately.  After  bii  death  I  endeavoared  aff 
I  coQid  to  get  bia  deeently  buried,  by  solioitiog  those 
dissenters  who  we#e  tbe  friends  of  bidi  and  bis  fatber,  but 
to  no  parpoae;  for  oaly  Dr»Grosveiior,inHoxtoiMquare) 
a  disseatiog  teacber,  offered  to  join  towards  it.  He  bad 
qtsite  tired  out  tbose  firieads  in  his  life-time;  and  tba 
general  answer  that  I  recemd  was,  ^  Tbat  such  a  eotk* 
iribation  was  of  no  service  to  hini)  ISar  it  was  a  matter  of 
no  importance  bow  or  where  he  was  burittd/'  As  I  found 
aoihiog  eould  be  dooe^  oar  last  nssource  was  ad  appli- 
Oalioa  to  the  parish ;  aor  was  it  witboot  some  diflBcahy, 
occasioned  by  the  malice  of  bis  landlady,  that  we  at  last 
got  him  interred  on  the  Saturday  after  he  died.  Three 
ttore  of  Mr.  Johnson's  amanuenses,  and  myself,  attended^ 
the  corpse  to  the  grave.  Such  was  tbe  miserable  end  of 
poor  Sam,  who  was  obliged  to  be  buried  in  tbe  sarma 
efaaritable  manner  with  his  first  wife;  a  burial,  of  which 
be  had  often  mentioned  his  abhorrence.'' 

Although  there  is  too  much  reason  to  believe  that  no 
part  of  Boyse's  character  has  been  misrepresented  in  tbe 
preceding  narrative,  be  mnst  not  be  deprived  of  the  evi- 
denee  which  Mr.  Nichols's  correspondent  has  advanced 
in  his  fevovr.  He  assarea  us  tbat  be  knew  him  from  the 
year  17M  to  tbe  time  of  his  death ;  and  tbat  he  never  saw 
any  thing  in  his  wife's  ooMlact  that  deserved  censure ; 
that  be  was  a  man  of  learning;  and  when  in  company 
wkh  those  by  whoai  be  was  not  awed,  an  entertaining 
companion;  but  so  irregalar  and  ioconsistent  in  bis  con* 
duct,  tbttt  it  appealed  as  if  be  had  been  actuated  by  two 
different  souls  on  different  occasions.  These  last  accounts 
are  in  some  degree  confirmed  by  the  writer  of  bis  life  hi 
Gibber's  collection,  who  says  that  while  Boyse  was  in  bis 
fawt  illness,  be  bad  do  notion  of  his  approaching  end,  nor 
'*  did  he  expect  it  untU  it  was  aloHist  past  tbe  thinking  of." 
His  mind,  indeed,  was  o<%ea  religiously  disposed;  ha 

VOL.  1.  D 


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'194  BOYSE, 

fi^uently  thought  upon  that^subject;  and  probably  suf- 
fered a  great  deal  from  the  remorse  of  his  conscience. 
The  early  impressions  of'  his  good  education  were  never 
entirely  obliterated ;  add  his  whole  life  was  a  continual 
struggle  between  his  will  and  his  reason,  as  he  was  always 
violating  his  duty  to  the  one,  while  he  fell  under  the  sub- 
jection of  the  other.  It  was,  adds  the  same  authori  in 
consequence  of  this  war  in  his  mind,  that  he  wrote  a  beau- 
tiful poem  called  '*  Recantation  ;'*  which  poem,  like  many 
other  productions  of  the  author/  is  not  now-  to  be  found 
unless  by  accident. 

The  following  observations,  annexed  to  a  sketch  of  the 
life  of  Boyse,  contain  so  much  of  apposite  remark  and 
judicious  reflection,  as  will,  we  are  sure,  •  preclude  the 
necessity  of  any  apology  for  inserting  them: — 
*  Such  was  the  life  of  a  man  whose  writings,  as  far  as  we 
have  been  able  to  discover  them,  are  uniformly  in  favour 
of  virtue,  remarkable  for  justness  of  sentiment  on  every 
subject  in  which  the  moral  character  is  concerned,  and 
not  unfrequently  for  the  loftiness  and  dignity  which  mark 
the  effusions  of  a  pure  and  independent  mind.  To  recon- 
cile such  a  train  of  thought  with  his  life,  with  actions 
utterly  devoid  of  shame  or  delicacy,  or  to  apologize  for 
the  latter  with  a  view  to  remove  the  inconsistency  between 
the  man  and  his  writings,  if  not  inipossible,  must  at  least 
be  left  to  those  who  have  no  scruple  to  tell  us  that  genius 
is  an  apology  for  all  moral  defects,  and  that  none  but  the 
plodding  and  prudent  sons  of  dulness  would  reveal  or  cen- 
sure the  vices  of  a  favourite  poet*  Such  is  already  the 
influence  of  this  perversion  of  the  powers  of  reasoning, 
that,  if  it  is  much  .longer  indulged,  no  men  will  be  thought 
worthy  of  compassion  or  apology,  but  those  who  err 
against  knowledge  and  principle,  who  act  wrong  and  know 
better. 

The  Ufe  of  Boyse,  however,  as  it  has  been  handed  down 
to  us,  without  any  affected  palliation,  will  not  be  wholly 
useless,  if  it  in  any  degree  contribute  to  convince  the  dis-^ 


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BOYSE.  J95 

tipated  aod  thoughtless  of  what  dissipatioo  and  thought- 
lessness must  ineyitably  produce.  It  is  much  to  be  re- 
grettedy  that  they  who  mourn  over  the  misfortunes  of 
genius  have  been  too  frequently  induced  by  the  artifice 
of  partial  biographers,  to  suppose  that  misery  is  the  in- 
separable lot  of  men  of  distinguished  talents,  and  that  the 
world  has  no  rewards  for  those  by  whom  ii  has  been  in- 
structed or.delighted,  except  poverty  and  neglect.  Such 
is  the  propensity  of  some  to  murmur  without  reason,  and 
of  others  to  sympathise  without  discrimination,  that  this 
unfair  opinion  of  mankind  might  be  received  as  unanswer- 
able, if  we  had  no  means  of  looking  more  closely  into  the 
lives  of  those  who  are  said  to  have  been  denied  that  ex- 
traordinary indulgence  to  which  they  laid  claim.  Where 
the  truth  has  been  honestly  divulged,  however,  we  shall 
find  that  of  the  complaints  which  lenity  or  afiectation  have 
encouraged  and  exaggerated  in  narrative,  some  will  appear 
to  have  very  little  foundation,  and  others  to  be  trifling 
and  capricious.  Men  of  genius  have  no  right  to  expect 
more  favourable  consequences  from  imprudence  and  vice 
than  what  are  common  to  the  meanest  of  mankind.  What- 
ever estimate  they  may  have  formed  of  their  superiority, 
if  they  pass  the  limits  allotted  to  character,  happiness,  or 
health,  they  must  not  hope  that  the  accustomed  rules  of 
society  are  to  be  broken,  or  the  common  process -of  nature 
is  to  be  suspended,  in  order  that  they  may  be  idle  without 
poverty,  or  intemperate  without  sickness.  Yet  the  lives  of 
.men  celebrated  for  literary,  and  especially  for  poetical 
talents,  afford  many  melancholy  examples  of  these  delu- 
sions, which,  if  perpetuated  by  mistaken  kindness,  cannot 
add  any  thing  to  genius  but  a  fictitious  privilege,  which 
it  is  impossible  to  vindicate  with  seriousness,  or  exert 
with  impunity. 

If  the  life  of  Boyse  be  considered  with  a  reference  to 
these  remarks,  it  will  be  found  that  he  was  scarcely  ever 
in  a  situation  of  distress,  of  which  he  copld  justly  com- 
plain.   He  exhausted  the  patience  of  one  set  pf  friends 


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190  BOYSE. 

after  another,  with  <uch  utifMiag  eotitempt  atd  ibgnni-^ 
tttde,  that  wte  dre  Aot  to  i^ooiler  at  hi*  living  the  precftriom 
Kfe  of  aa  oalcAsty  of  h  i&mn  who  beloags  to  no  society,  tod 
Whom  no  society  is  behind  to  maintaid.  Among  his  patnM 
were  many  persons  of  high  rank  and  opniencey  whom  ht 
hindered  ashamed  oF  their  patronage^  and  perhaps  prfe«- 
rebted  from  the  ejtercise  of  general  kindness,  lest  it  might 
be  disgraced  by  the  encoarBgementoT  those  who  dissipMs 
fcvery  favour  in  low  and  wanton  excesses. 

What  can  be  urged  in  his  favour  from  intettml  evidence 
ought  not  to  be  concealed.  We  do  aot  find  iti  his  works 
touch  of  the  cant  of  complaint :  and,  although  he  sub* 
ttitted  to  efvery  mean  art  of  supplication,  he  does  not  seem 
to  have  resented  a  denial  as  an  insult,  nor  to  have  ti^ett 
tench  pains  to  make  the  worse  appear  the  better  cau^. 
In  his  private  letters,  indeed,  he  sometimes  endeavoured, 
by  false  professions  and  imaginary  misfortanes,  to  impose 
^pon  others,  but  he  did  not  impose  upon  himself*  He 
had  not  perverted  his  own  mind  by  any  of  the  impious 
sophistries,  which,  by  frequent  repetition,  become  mis^^ 
taken  for  right  reason.  He  was  not,  therefore,  wid^t  hil 
iiours  of  remorse;  and  towards  the  latte?'part  of  fini  life, 
Wlien  his  heart  was  softened  by  a  sense  of  inward  decay, 
he  resolved  in  earnest  to  retrieve  his  character* 

As  a  poet,  his  reputation  has  been  chiefly  fixed  on  the 
production  entitled  "  Dbitt,''  which,  although  irregular 
Md  monotonous,  conteios  many  striking  proofs  of  poetical 
genius.  The  eflbrt  indicates  no  sasall  elevatiim  of  mind, 
eten  while  we  must  allow  that  success  is  beyond  all  hamaa 
power.  His  other  pieces  may  be  regarded  as  curiosities, 
tts  the  productions  of  a  man  who  never  enjoyed  the  undis^ 
turbed  exercise  of  his  powers,  who  wrote  i^  circumstance 
of  peculiar  distress,  heightened  by  the  conSiciou^DeBS  that 
he  could  obtain  only  temporary  relief,  that  he  had  forfeited 
tbe  respect  tiae  to  genius,  and  could  expect  So  be  tt^. 
warded  on(y  by  tiiose  to  whom  be  was^  kast  known.  W« 
n)«e  told  vhat  he  wrote  all  Us  pottos  with  ans^  and  «vn 


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BRABASON.  IQf 

iHpiditjr.  That  itfaoy  of  bi^  U»e«  ard  iaoorreet  i«iU  oot 
Iborefbre  ^Kcite  sui priae>  <;specially  when  we  oonaider  that 
he  wrote  for  iinmediate  relief,  and  iK>fe  for  faoM,  and  thai 
when  one  piece  bad  produced  him  a  benefeciioDihe  gen% 
rally  ditnissed  it  from  hi)  mind,  and  began  another,  abdut 
which  he  bad  no  other  care  than  that  it  mighiaiuiweif  the 
•ame  pnrpos^* 

WII.UAM  BRABAZON, 

The  first  Earl  of  Meath,  wa^  the  eldest  9on  of  Sir  Edward 
Brabaapi),  X40i:d  Ardee,  and  was  born  in  1679-  He  iras 
knighted  during  the  life  of  his  father,  and  succeeded  to  hit 
honours  and  estates  on  his  decease  in  1625.  He  was  soon 
after  appointed  custos  rotulorom  of  the  county  of  Dublin, 
and  in  1627  created  Earl  of  Meath;  his  majesty,  Charles 
}kf  as  ihe  cbanceFy  rolls  express  it,  ^^  esteeming  it  a  prin* 
mpal  strength  and  ornament  to  his  royal  estate  in  hit 
l«?erat  king^ms,  to  have  the  same  attended  on  by  persons 
dignified  with  titles  of  honour,  and  being  eareftd  to  coafet 
the  same  upon  such  whose  virtues  do  deserve  it,  made 
ehoice  of  his  lordship,  to  advance  him  to  a  more  emineol 
degree  of  honour,  by  making  him  an  earl  of  his  realm  of 
Xreland,  having  received  very  good  testimcyiy  of  his  vir<* 
tnes  and  merits,  and  of  the  long  continuance  of  his  ances* 
tors  in  the  service  of  the  crown  there,  as  counsellor  and 
pffieer  of  state,  and  of  his  and  their  constancy  in  the  pro^ 
Dsssk^o  of  true  religion.''  And,  ^^  also,  in  regard  of  has 
many  ^ood  abilitieS|  and  of  his  great  experience  in  the 
affairs  of  Ireland,  ordered  him  forthwith  to  be  sworn  of 
his  privy  council/' 

During  the  troubles  in  Ireland  which  commenced  Ia 
1641,  he  suffered  much  from  the  damages  and  destruetien 
committed  by  the  insurgents  on  his  estates,  aad  his  house 
Ht  Kilfothery,  together  with  his  gardens,  &o.  were  de« 
firoyed  i«  cutting  trenebes  for  the  defisnce  of  the  city  of 
Dublin-    In  1644,  be  was  deputed  by  the  Marquis  sif 


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198  BRADY. 

Ormondy  to  attend  Charles  I.  at  Oxford,  ia  cotnpaDy  with 
Sir  Henry  Tichburne  and  Sir  James  Ware,  to  explain  td 
him  the  situation  oF  his  affairs  in  Ireland,  and  to  consult 
with  him  on  the  measures  which  were  necessary  to  be 
taken.  On  their  return  they  were  taken  by  a  parliament 
ship,  just  after  Sir  James  Ware  had  thrown  the  letters, 
with  which  they  were  entrusted  from  the  king  to  the  Mar- 
quis of  Ormond,  into  the  sea.  They  were  then  carried  to 
London,  and  committed  to  the  Tower,  in  which  they  were 
confined  eleven  months,  when  they  were  released  in 
exchange  for  other  prisoners. 

He  died  in  1651,  and  was  buried  at  St.  Catherine's. 


De.  NICHOLAS  BRADY, 

A  learned  divine,  was  the  son  of  Major  Nicholas  Brady, 
an  officer  of  the  king's  army  in  the  rebellion  of  1641,  and 
was  born  at  Bandon,  in  the  county  of  Cork,  on  the  28th  of 
October,  1659,  and  continued  in  his  native  country  till  he 
was  twelve  years  of  age,  when  he  was  removed  to  England^ 
and  placed  in  Westminster  school,  where  he  was  chosen 
king's  scholar,  and  from  thence  elected  student  of  Christ- 
church,  Oxford.  After  continuing  there  about  four  years^ 
be  went  to  Dublin,  where  his  father  resided ;  at  which  uni- 
versity he  immediately  commenced  B.  A.  When  he  was 
of  due  standing,  his  diploma  for  the  degree  of  D.D.  was; 
on  account  of  his  uncommon  merit,  presented  to  him  by 
that  university  while  he  was  in  England  ;  and  brought 
over  by  Dr.  Pratt,  then  senior  travelling  fellow,  afterwards 
provost  of  that  college.  His  first  ecclesiastical  preferment 
was  to  a  prebend  in  the  cathedral  of  St.  Barry,  at  Cork ; 
to  which  he  was  collated  by  Bishop  Wettenhall,  whose 
domestic  chaplain  he  was.  He  wad  a  zealous  promoter 
of  the  Revolution,  and  in  consequence  of  his  zeal  suffered 
for  it.  In  1690,  when  the  troubles  broke  out  in  Ireland, 
by  his  interests  with  king  Jam«s's  general,  M'Carty,  he 


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BRADY.  199 

thrice  prevented  the  burning  of  the  town  of  Bandon,  after 
three  several  orders  given  by  that  prince  to  destroy  it*  The 
same  year,  having  been  deputed  by  the  people  of  Bandon, 
he  went  over  to  England,  to  petition  the  parliament  for. a 
redress  of  some  grievances  they  had  suffered  while  king 
James  was  in  Ireland ;  and  afterwards  quitting  his.  pre- 
ferments in  Ireland,  he  settled  in.  London ;  where,  being 
celebrated  for  his.  abilities  in  the  pulpit,  he  was  elected 
minister  of  St.  Catherine  Cree  church,  and  lecturer  of  St. 
Michael's  Wood*street*     He  afterwards  became  minister 
of  Richmond  in  Surrey,  and  Stratford  upon  Avon  in  War- 
wickshire, and  at  length  rector  of  Clapham  in  Surrey ; 
which  last,  together  with  Ridmiond,  he  held  till  his  death. 
His  preferments  amounted  to  600/.  a  year,  but,  he  was  so 
little  of  an  oeconomist  as  to  be  obliged  to  keep  a  school  at 
Richmond..  Hewas.ako  chaplain  to  the  duke  of  Ormond's 
troop  of  horse-guards,  as  he  was  to  their  majesties  king 
William  and  queen  Mary.     He  died  May  20,  1726,  aged 
sizty-siz,  leaving  behind  him  the  character  of,  being  a 
person  of  an  agreeable  temper,  a  polite  gentleman,  an 
excellent  preacher,  and  a  good  poet.  He  has  no  high  rank, 
however,  among  poets,  and  would  have  long  ere  now  been 
forgotten  in  that  character,  if  bis  name  was  not  so  familiar 
as  a  translator  of  the  new  version  of  the  ^'  Psalms,*'  in  con-* 
junction  with  Mr.  Tate,  which  version  was  licensed  in  1696: 
He  translated  also  the  ''  ^neids  of  Virgil,"  published  by 
subscription  in  1726,  4  vols.  8vo ;  and  a  tragedy,  called 
'•  The  Rape,  or  the  Innocent  Impostors,"  neither  perform- 
ances of  much  character.     His  prose  works  consist  of 
^  Sermons,^  three  volumes  of  which  were  published  by 
himself  in  1704,  1706,  and  1713,  and  three  others  by  his 
eldest  son,  who  was  a  clergyman  at  Tooting,  in  Surrey,; 
London,  1730,  8 vo. 


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«x> 


Was  an  intrepid  ofhter  in  bis  majesty's  senrioa  for 
upwards  of  fiftj  years.  He  served  in  the  kst  two  cao^ 
fMigas  of  the  Amerioaa  war  of  1775  ;  io  the  West  ladies^ 
and  la  the  MediterraneaQ  for  five  years.  He  was  oo&* 
•taatly  employed  in  active  servioe^  during  whi<^  periods 
lie  condaeted  himseif  with  ooarage  cool  and  determined. 

He  was  present  at  most  of  the^  battles  siace  the  year 
1793,  and  particularly  distinguished  himself  at  Toalon,  in 
Ck>rsicay  and  in  Holland.  He  retamed  to  the  West  Indies 
in  ISOSp  and  was  at  the  last  reduction  of  St.  Lucia,  where 
he  continued  oomraaadant  till  1807,  when  he  obtained 
permission  to  revisit  his  native  country  for  the  recovery 
of  bis  healthy  be  being  seriously  affected  by  a  liver  coov- 
plainty  which  was  contracted  by  a  residence  of  thirteen 
years  in  tropical  climates,  and  which  terminated  bis  exist- 
ence on  tbe  1st  of  July,  18 16,  at  New  Abbey,  KUdare. 

St.  BRIQJT, 

St.  Brioit,  or  Bridge^,  as^d  by  cootracjiop  Bride,  Abbefyit 
and  JBL  Saint  of  the  Romish  clwrcb,  and  the  patrooeis  of 
Ireland*  flourished  in  tbe  bejj^doiDg  of  tbe  sixth  centuryi 
%nd  is  named  in  the  martyrology  of  Bede,  and  in  ^l 
^bers  ^iaoe  that  age.  She  was  horn  #t  Pochard  in  l/lster« 
sQon  after  Ireland  was  oonv^rted  tQ  the  ^ristiaa  f?itb« 
$be  reaved  the  retigioas  vqil,  at  an  early  ag^^  frp")  ^. 
Kands  of  St.  Niel,  nephew  of  St.  Pfttrick,  $ihe  built  her*^ 
Sfdf  a  cell  voder  a  large  onk,  th^noe  ?^l)cd  ftill-rdara,  or. 
i;be  cell  of  tbe  oak ;  Hying,  it  o^ay  k^  pfe9^f^ed,  (torn  tbe^ 
veneration  with  which  her  name  has  l^e^  handed  down 
to  posterity,  in  the  exercise  of  every  virtue.  Her  fame 
soon  spread,  and  several  of  her  own  sex,  having  resorted 
to  her,  they  formed  themselves  into  a  religious  community, 
which  in  lime  branched  out  into  several  other  nunneries 


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BaODRICK.  Ml 

ihfCNigbaiit  Ireland,  all  of  whieh  aokDovladged  bar  for 
tfattr  «other  and  fonadreas.  Hor  biographers  give  |io 
-pardoulars  of  her  life,  but  what  relates  to  miracles.  Sevend 
chiMTclies  ip  England  and  Seotland  are  dedicated  to  her, 
some  also  in  Geroaany  and  France,  by  wtuoh  we  may  judge 
of  her  past  repnution. 

She  died  at  the  age  of  seventy,  A.  D.  52\,  and  Giraldus 
Cambrensis  informs  us,  that  her  body  was  found  with  ihose 
of  St.  Patrick  and  St.  Columba,  in  a  triple  vault  at  Down 
Patrick  in  1185,  and  were  all  three  translated  to  the 
cathedral  of  the  same  city ;  bat  their  monument  was  de- 
stroyed in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  She  was  coinmemo- 
mted  in  many  churches  in  Germany  and  France,  ^ntil  the 
year  16(17,  and  likewise  in  the  Roman  martyr<^ogy  on  the 

1st  of  February* 

II  mil  iijiM 

ALIJVN  BRODRICK, 
Fia^r  ViicpuwT  Mi»i*»To»,  was  the  leoopd  3on  of 
Sir  ^t,  Jobn  Brpdrick,  aRd  was  educated  to  tbe  profe^** 
sipa  of  the  law  in  wbicb  be  speedily  attained  ,to  emif 
l^eacf,  being  appoiated,  ip  ISQO,  bi^  majesty's  serjeaptr 
|p  169&  h^  was  advanced  to  tb«  ot^p^  of  splici^or* 
gep^ral  of  Ireland;  and  m  1703,  being  returned  to  thf 
p^iapo^pt  as  member  for  the  pity  of  Cprk,  he  wa^ 
unaniinpiisly  chosen  speaker  of  the  bpnse  of  popimops} 
apd  Xh^U  o^ice  was  coqfir^i^ed  by  the  )ord  cbapoellor^  i* 
the  pamfs  of  the  Dnke  of  Onpopd,  tbep  lord-^lieutenant,  in 
9  bigbly  flatteripg  speech^  This  good  understandioy, 
bpwever,  was  soon  broken ;  ©rodrick  apppigrs  to  have  b^» 
^  firm  and  warm  friend  IP  bin  cpuntry,  apd  tbp  powerful 
opposition  wbipb  be  mad?  t^  wpj^  bills,  proposed  by  \\m 
lord-lieutenant,  and  which  were  thereby  frustrated,  sO' 
much  incensed  his  grace,  that  in  1704,  he  was  removed 
from  his  situation  as  solicitor-general.  A  change,  however, 
having  taken  place  in  1707,  her  majesty  appointed  him 
attorney-general,  and  in  1710,  on  the  death  of  Sir  Richard 


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202  BRODRICK. 

Pyoe,  chief  justice  of  the  king's  bench  in  Ireland,  he  w&a 
appointed  his  successor.  On  this  occasion  the  author  of 
the  Life  of  Thomas,  Earl  of  Wharton,  who  was  then  lord- 
lieutenant,  observes,  "  that  he  procured  that  high  post  for 
one  of  the  most  worthy  patriots  of  that  kingdom,  as  an 
instance  of  the  care  be  took  of  the  security  of  religion  and 
liberty/' 

By  this  promotion,  being  raised  to  the  house  of  peers, 
he  took  his  seat  on  the  woolsack  on  the  19th  of  May,  1710; 
and  received  the  thanks  of  the  commons  for  his  faithful 
and  eminent  services  to  that  house,  during  the  time  of 
his  being  speaker.  In  1711,  the  queen,  on  changing  her 
ministry,  removed  Brodrick  from  this  high  situation,  in 
which  he  was  succeeded  by  Sir  Richard  Cox.  In  1713, 
he  was  returned  to  parliament  for  the  county  of  Cork,  and 
was  again  invested  with  the  dignity  of  speaker,  a  more 
ample  proof  of  his  abilities,  and  judgment  in  the  exercise 
of  that  arduous  office,  than  the  common-place  routine  of 
votes  oi^  thanks.  Indeed,  his  constant  and  faithful  attach* 
ment  to  the  laws  and  establishments  of  his  country  were 
eminently  conspicuous;  and  he  exerted  himself  with 
so  much  diligence  in  securing  the  succession  of  the  crown 
to  the  House  of  Hanover,  that  George  I.  immediately  on 
his  succession,  preferred  him  to  the  dignity  of  lord  high 
chancellor  of  Ireland ;  and  soon  after  advanced  him  to  the 
peerage,  by  the  name  of  Baron  Brodrick,  of  Midleton. 
From  this  time  he  continued  in  great  favour  with  the 
government,  and  was  frequently  appointed  one  of  the  lords 
justices  during  the  absence  of  the  lord-lieutenant,  and  in- 
1717,  he  ivas  created  Viscount  Midleton.  He  was  after* 
Wards  chosen  a  member  of  the  British  parliament  for 
Midhurst,  in  Sussex;  and  died  in  February  1727. 


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fi03 


HENRY  BROOKE, 

The  author  of  ^'Gustavus  Vasa,"  and  "The  Fool  of  Qua- 
lity,"  was  born  in  Ireland  in  1706.  His  father,  a  man  of 
considerable  talent  and  great  worth,  was  rector  of  the 
parishes  of  Kollinhare,  MuIIough,  Mybullough,  and  Li- 
cowie:  his  mother's  name  was  Digby.  He  was  for  some 
time  the  pupil  of  Dr.  Sheridan,  and  from  thence  removed 
to  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and  when  only  seventeen,  he 
commenced  the  study  of  the  law  in  the  Temple.  In  this 
situation,  his  genius,  vivacity,  and  amiable  temper,  en- 
deared him  to  the  first  characters  there,  and  he  was  gene- 
rally admired  and  beloved ;  and  the  friendship  of  Swift  and 
Pope  conferred  a  lustre  on  his  name.  He  was  recalled 
to  Ireland  by  the  illness  of  his  aunt,  who,  on  her  dying 
bed,  committed  to  his  care  and  guardianship  her  daughter, 
a  beautiful  girl  not  twelve  years  old.  Pleased  with  the 
trust,  he  was  assiduous  in  his  care,  he  placed  her  at  a 
boarding  school  in  Dublin,  visited  her  often,  with  tender 
anxiety,  thought  only  of  her  happiness,  until  he  found  his 
own  was  connected  with  it,  and  the  guardian  lost  in  the 
lover. 

He  found  the  enchanting  girl  sensible  of  his  worth  and 
ready  to  return  his  affection,  and  at  length  prevailed  on 
her  to  consent  to  a  private  marriage,  before  she  had 
reached  her  fourteenth  year.  It  is  not  easy,  or  pleasant  to 
believe^  what  some  have  affirmed,  that  she  was  a  mother 
before  that  period.  When  the  marriage  was  discovered, 
the  ceremony  was  again  performed  in  the  presence  of  the 
family.  Happy,  and  with  no  cares  but  to  please  each 
other,  it  was  not  until  after  the  birth  of  their  third  child, 
that  they  began  to  think  seriously  how  a  family  was  to  be 
provided  for.  Brooke  had  long  given  up  the  law,  and  he 
felt  no  inclination  to  resume  a  profession,  which  excluded 
thie  pleasures  of  imagination,  and  was  so  opposite  to  the 
teelings  of  a  mind,  tender,  benevolent,  and  romantic.    A 


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£04  BROOKE. 

jouniejr  to  LoDdon  was  resolved  oo ;  there  he  might  indulge 
bis  genias,  enjoj  the  advantages  of  literary  society,  and 
by  the  execution  tif  Kterary  scbemesy  be  finally  rewarded 
with  fame  and  wealth*  Accordingly,  on  his  arrival,  he 
hastened  to  renew  hU  acqqaintancf  with  his  form^f 
friends,  and,  uqder  the  eye  of  Pope,  wrote^  and  published 
hif  philosophical  poem  of  '^  Universal  Beaqty,"  u)  173*. 
He  was  soon,  however,  obliged  to  return  tolrelaqd,  wher? 
for  a  short  time  he  practised,  though  reluctantly,  a^  a 
cbamber-^council*  But  the  desire  of  acquiring  distinctioB 
in  elegant  literature,  was  not  to  be  conquered,  and  a  third 
journey  to  liOndon  was  the  consequence :  this  was  in  17S7. 
He  was  introduced  to  Lord  Lyttletpn  and  others,  the 
political  and  literary  adherents  of  the  Prince  of  Wales ;  he 
was  oaressed  and  treated  \rith  friendly  familiarity,  and 
received  from  the  latter  many  elegant  and  friendly  tokens 
of  regard.  Amidst  such  society,  he  had  every  thing  t^ 
cherish  his  ambitious  hopes  of  fame  and  independence^ 
und  he  readily  caught  that  fervour  of  enthusiasm,  which 
was  the  hond  of  union  in  the  prince's  court. 

In  1738  he  published  a  translation  of  the  first  three 
books  of  Tasso,  of  which  Hoole  gives  this  flattering  testis 
mony :  "  It  is  at  once  so  harmonious,  and  so  spirited,  that 
I  think,  an  entire  translation  of  Tasso,  by  him,  would  not 
only  have  rendered  my  task  unnecessary,  but  have  discoup 
raged  those  from  the  attempt,  whose  poetical  talents  are 
Q^ucb  superior  to  mine/'  He  was,  however,  by  his 
political  friends,  diverted  from  completing  the  translation, 
mad  his  talent  conducted  to  another  channel,  and,  as  i.t 
W^r^,  joined  to  a  host  of  writerS|  who  wielded  the  weapons 
^literature  against  the  minister  of  the  day.  Paul  Whiter 
head  wrole  satires;  Fielding,  comedies  and  farces ;  Glover» 
^p  fpic  poem;  apd  Brooke,  encpuraged  to  introduce 
Walpple  in  tragedy,  wrote  ''  Gustavus  Vasa,  the  Peliverer 
(^  bis  Country :"  it  was  acqepted  at  Drury  l^ane,  bu> 
w4»efl  §«  the  point  of  performance,  an  order  Uom  tbe  lor4- 
l^haipberlaio  airived  to  prohibit  it.    This  pifOP*  awMM 


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BROOKE.  tM 

wilh  tht  noblest  fteatimenu  of  liberty^  wai,  how^Ter^  c<»i« 

gid€fed  «t  the  thne  to  contain  a  considerable  portion  of* 

partj  spirit)  and  the  character  of  TroUio,  the  Swedish 

duotster^  ba  intended  for  Sir  Robert  Walpoie:  but  it  may 

be  doubted  whether  this  minister  gained  any  ihibg  by 

prohibiting  its  performance,  since  he  could  not  suppress^ 

its  publication*  By  the  prohibition,  curiosity  was  awakened 

ih  ab  unoomtnon  degree,  and  il  excited  an  eothusiafttie 

ardour  in  hid  favour,  amongst  his  friends  and  of  the  public 

generally,  who  trere  not  biassed  by  the  Other  party,  and 

^e  author  was  more  richly  rewanded  than  he  would  bav« 

beete  by  the  promts  of  the  theatre.    Above  tt  thousaud 

oopies  were  subscribed  for,  at  five  shillings  each,  and  by 

the  sak  of  subsequent  edition^  be  cleared  about  a  thousand 

pounds*    Ik.  Johnson  appealed  at  bb  side,  and  wrote  a 

i^ry  ingeuiouB  satirical  pataphlet,  entitled  ''A  Complete 

Vindication  of  ^e  Licensers  of  the  Stage  from  the  mali«» 

eious  Aspeivioos  of  Mn  Brooke^  Author  of  Gustavos  Vasa, 

1789/ 4to. 

Tbe  hme  Brooke  acquired  by  this  play,  seemed  the 
etnieat  of  a  prosperous  career,  and  as  at  this  time  the 
prince  proposed  Mrd.  Brooke  as  wet-ntirse  to  tbe  child  of 
whom  the  princess  was  then  pfegnant,  the  most  flattering 
prospects  opeoed  to  his  imagination*  He  hired  »  house  al 
Twickenham^  near  to  Pope's,  fbrnished  it  genteelly,  and 
•eut  for  Mrs.  Brooke  and  family.  But,  alas !  his  flattering 
prospects  were  soon  obscured ;  he  was  taken  ill,  and  hie 
eomplaint  continued  %o  violent  and  obstinate,  that  hit 
physicians  considered  his  life  in  danger,  and  advised,  as  a 
kit  lesource,  his  native  air.  He  accordingly  removed 
thither,  and  soon  recovered.  Bui  when  his  return  Was 
Expected  by  his  friends,  to  their  great  aurpris^  he  parted 
with  tbe  house  at  Twickenham,  and  determined  to  remain 
in  Ireland.  For  a  conduct  so  apparently  inconsistent,  both 
Iks  to  interest  and  inclination,  he  declined  aooountiag  for. 
tt  afberwwds  appeared  Mn«  Brooke  was  alarmed  at  the 
Md  with  which  he  espoused  the  cause  of  die  oppeeition^ 


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ao6  BROOKE. 

and  dreaded  tl^e  consequence  with  which  his  next  publi- 
cation might  be  followed.  For  this  singular  measure,  at 
this  favourable  crisis  in  his  history,  he  could  assign  no 
adequate  reason  without  exposing  her  to  the  imputation  of 
timidity,  and  himself  to  that  of  a  tender  and  too  yielding 
husband.  He  still  continued  to  court  the  Muses,  and  kept 
up  a  literary  correspondence  with  his  London  friends, 
particularly  with  Pope;  and  it  is  to  be  lamented,  that  all 
these  letters  were  consumed  by  an  accidental  fire.  In  one 
of  the  letters,  Pope  advised  Brooke  to.  take  orders,  as 
bang  a  profession  better  suited  to  his  principles,  dispo- 
sition, and  his  genius,  than  that  of  the  law;  and  also  less 
injurious  to  bis  health.  .Why.  he  did  not  comply  with 
this  advice  cannot  now  be  known ;  for  it  appears  he  was 
always  of  a  religious  turn,  and  his  principles  those  of  the 
strictest  kind,  notwithstanding  the  apparent  inconsistency 
of  his  ambition  to  shine  as  a  diramatic  writer. 

In  1741  he  contributed  to  Ogle's  version  of  Chaucer's 
'^  Constanxia;  or,  the  Man  of  Law's  Tale;"  and,  in  1745, 
his  tragedy  of  the  *'  Earl  of  Westmoreland,"  was  per- 
formed on  the  Dublin  stage.  The  Farmer's  Letters  ap- 
peared the  same  year,  and  was  calculated  to  rouse  the 
spirit  of  freedom  among  the  Irish,  threatened,  as  they 
were  in  common  with  their  fellow-subjects,  by  rebellion 
and  invasion.  Lord  Chesterfield  was  at  this  time  vice- 
roy, and  patronized  Mr.  Brooke,  from  the  admiration  of 
his  talents,  and  the  respect  which  his  virtues  obtaiued  from 
all.  The  office  of  barrack-master  was  conferred  on  him^ 
which  fixed  him  some  years  in  Dublin.  In  174ff  he  wrote 
iin  epilogue  on  the  birih-day  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland, 
spoken  by  Mr.  Garrick  in  Dublin ;  and  a  prologue  to 
Othello.  In  1747  he  contributed  to  Moore's  volume  of 
Fables,  four  of  great  poetical  merit,  m.  **  The  Temple 
of  Hymen;"  *'The  Sparrow  and  Dove;"  "  The  Female 
Seducers;"  and  *'  Love  and  Vanity."  In  174B  he  wrote 
a  prologue  to  **  The  Foundliqg;"  and  an  opera,  entitled 
'^  Little  John  and  the  Giants."    Thi^  was  act^ed  oply  on^ 


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BROOKE.  207 

nighty  in  Dublin,  being  prohibited  on  account  of  political 
allusions.  This  produced  *'  The  last  Speech  of  John 
Goody  alias  Jack  the  Giant  Queller;  a  satirical  effusion, 
mixed  with  political  allegory,  and  a  profusion  of  quota- 
tions against  Tyrants  and  Tyranny."  In  1749,  his  tragedy 
of  the  **  Earl  of  Essex"  was  performed  at  Dublin,  and 
afterwards  at  Drury  Lane,  with  much  success,  as  it  was  at 
that  time  preferred  to  those  before  written  on  the  same 
subject.  At  what  period  his  other  dramatic  pieces. were 
written  or  performed  is  uncertain ;  these  were  **  The  Con- 
tending Brothers;"  "  The  Female  Officer;"  and  "The 
Marriage  Contract,"  comedies :  "  The  Impostor,"  a  tru* 
gedy ;  and  "  Cymbeline,"  an  aheration  from  Shakspeare. 
"  Montezuma,"  although  printed  among  his. works,  is  said 
to  be  the  production  of  another. 

In  1762  he  published  a  pamphlet,  entitled  ''  The  Trial 
of  the  Roman  Catholics;"  in  which  he  generously  en- 
deavoured to  prove  the  justice  and  propriety  of  removing 
the  restraints  on  that  class  of  the  community;  and  in  his 
zeal  to  remove  the  prejudices  entertained  against  them, 
to  prove  it  might  be  done  with  safety,  he  was  led  to  assert 
that  the  history  of  the  "  Irish  Massacre,  in  1641,"  is  no- 
thing but  an  old  wife's  fable.  Its  success  did  not  answer 
bis  expectations ;  and,  wearied  at  length  with  fruitless 
efforts  to  arouse  the  slumbering  genius  of  his  country,  dis- 
appointed, and  disgusted,  he  withdrew  to  his  paternal  seat, 
and  there,  in  the  society  of  the  Muses,  apd  the  peaceful 
bosom  of  domestic  love,  consoled  himself  for  lost  advan- 
tages and  deceitful  hopes.  An  affectionate,  and  only  bro- 
ther, with  a  wife  and  family  almost  as  numerous  as  his 
own,  accompanied  his  retirement;  and  there  for  many  years 
they  lived  together  with  uninterrupted  harmony*— dis« 
cord  never  entered  their  habitation,  it  was  a  little  parar 
dise— the  abode  of  peace  and  love. 

"  The  Fool  of  Quality ;  or,  the  History  of  the  Earl  of 
Moreland,"  appeared  in  1766;  a  novel  which  excited 
much  attention,  in  England;  and,  certainly,  a  work  replete 


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4M  BROOK  E« 

y^hh  iht  knowledge  of  hudnan  life  and  Bhannars,  aif4  kf 
wbicb  are  admirable  traits  of  ihoral  feeling  and  profnriecy; 
hnt,  towards  the  dose,  thert  id  to6  macb  of  religious  dis- 
ctitoion  for  a  worl(  of  this  fiatare.  It  became,  however, 
\fhen  completed  \h  6  vols,  in  1770,  t  very  popular  hotel; 
Abd  has  gone  through  several  editions.  In  } 772  he  pub-^ 
Irshed  ''  Redemption/' II  poem;  in  which  that  great  myn* 
tcty  of  our  religion  is  explained,  with  a  boldneBs  and 
Miplification  seldom  h&2arded;  and  it  must  be  admitted, 
that  sometimes  his  enthusiasm  surmounted  his  better 
judgment,  and  in  this  poem  the  introduction  of  rhymes, 
which  mirst  be  reAd  according  to  the  vulgar  Irish,  de^ 
dtmed  Mnsiderably  from  the  merit  of  the  performance. 
Hta  last  work  was  **  Juliet  Grenville,*'  a  novel  in  three 
volumes,  which  appeared  in  1774;  and  is  very  justly 
efttiiled  ^'  The  History  of  the  Human  Heart,^  the  secret 
movements  of  which  few  novelists  have  better  dbplayed ; 
b«t  there  is  such  a  mixture  of  the  most  sacred  doctrines 
of  religion  with  the  common  and  trifling  incidents  of 
lAoderd  romance,  that  his  best  friends  could  not  hnt 
lament  the  absence  of  that  genius^  spirit,  and  judgment 
which  onoe  enlightened  his  mind.  It  has  been  said,  that, 
ki  this  year,  Oarrick  pressed  him  earnestly  to  write  for  tlM 
stage ;  bat  there  are  s^  many  reasons  for  supposing  this 
to  be  incorrect^  that  it. is  needless  to  mention  contradict 
tory  rap6rts4 

Our  author's  tenderness  of  heart,  and  unsuspecting 
tempctf,  involved  him  in  pecuniary  difficulties.  He  could 
not  be  deaf  to  a  tale  of  distress ;  his  purse  was  ever  ready, 
and  be  relieved  their  necessities,  and  added  to  his  oWiik 
At  length  he  was  compelled,  first  to  mortgage,  and  then 
to  sell  his  paternal  lands,  and  remove  to  Kildare.  Here 
bt  resided  some  time,  and  then  took  a  farm  near  his 
former  residence.  Not  long  aft^  his  removal,  his  mind 
rao^iiv^  a  shock,  by  the  death  of  his  wife,  Which  it  nelrer 
wholly  recovered ;  they  had  been  happily  united  for  nearly 
ftfiy  years.    TMs  calamity,  aggravated  by  the  decease  of 


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BROOKE.  «09 

bis  cbildreoy  which,  from  seTenteen,  were  now  reduced  to 
two,  together  with  bis  pecuniary  embarrassments,  was 
followed  by  such  a  state  of  mental  imbecthty  as  to  leave 
little  hope  of  recovery.  However,  religion  had  early  been 
planted  in  bis  mind ;  and  though  the  blossoms  for  a  time 
appeared  to  wither,  the  root  lived  ;  and,  as  he  approached 
bis  last  days,  it  revived,  and  like  a  medicinal  balm  shed^ 
Hs  healing  balsam  on  his  wounded  heart.  He  died, 
Oct.  10,  I783|  leaving  a  son,  since  dead;  and  a  daughter, 
the  child  of  his  old  age.  He  was  in  possession  of  the 
place  of  barrack-master  of  MuUingar  at  his  death. 

His  poetical  works  were  collected  in  1778,  in  four  vols, 
octavo,  but  printed  very  incorrectly,  and  with  the  addition 
of  some  pieces  which  were  not  his.  In  179^  another 
edition  was  published,  in  Dublin,  by  his  daughter;  who 
procured  some  memoirs  of  her  father,  and  prefixed  them 
to  the  first  volume.  In  this  she  observes,  she  found  many 
difficulties,  as  the  greater  part  of  his  friends  and  contem* 
poraries  had  departed  before  him.  It  is  to  be  regretted 
Miss  Brooke  could  not  obtain  more  correct  information^ 
since  the  narrative  is  in  many  points  confused  and  con* 
tradictory ;  yet  from  all  it  is  apparent  that  Brooke  was  a 
man  of  most  amiable  character,  endowed  with  the  kindest 
and  best  feelings  of  our  nature ;  and,  perhaps,  few  men 
have  produced  writings  of  equal  variety,  the  tendency  of 
all  being  so  uniformly  in  favour  of  religious  and  moral 
principles ;  yet  truth  must  admit  that  there  are  in  these 
many  inconsistencies,  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  ex- 
plain. We  cannot  reconcile  it  to  our  feelings,  and  it  is 
certainly  repugnant  to  taste  and  propriety,  the  bringing 
together,  as  it  were  in  the  same  page,  the  most  awful 
doctrines  of  religion  and  the  lighter  incidents  and  humor- 
ous sketches  of  vulgar  or  fashionable  life  'y  yet  this  is  fre- 
quently exhibited  in  his  novels,  and  remains  a  sad 
memorial  of  the  weakness  and  frailty  of  the  best  minds. 
As  a  poet  he  delights  his  reader  by  occasional  flights  of  a 
vivid  imagination ;  and  his  first  production,  ^^  Univerfal 

VOL.   I.  p 


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tlO  BROOKE. 

Beauty/'  hai  a  charning  display  of  fancy  in  many  parts. 
It  has  been  insinuated  that  Pope,  to  whom  he  submitted 
it,  gave  some  assistance ;  but  this  may  admit  of  doubt, 
from  the  absence  of  that  regularity  and  smoothness  so 
universal  in  the  writings  of  the  latter. 

During  a  great  part  of  the  life  of  Brooke,  his  religious- 
opinions  approached  to  what  is  termed  methodistioal, 
yet  he  uniformly  supported  the  stage;  and  we  find  evea 
trifling  farces  among  his  works.  Whether  the  importuni^ 
of  injudicious  friends,  or  the  pressing  occasions  of  embar- 
rassed  circumstances,  pointed  to  the  stage  as  a  profitable 
resource,  cannot  now  be  known;  but,  it  is  certain  he 
lived  more  consistently  than  he  wrote.  No  day  passed 
in  which  he  did  not  collect  his  femiiy  to  prayer;  and  be 
not  only  read,  but  expounded  the  Scriptures  to  them,  with 
a  clearness  and  fervency  edifying  and  interesting.  The 
following  anecdote  will  more  immediately  illustrate  bis 
ability  on  this  bead : — 

One  Sunday,  while  the  congregation  were  assembled  in 
the  rural  church  of  the  parish  in  which  he  lived,  tbey 
waited  a  long  time  the  arrival  of  their  clergyman.  At 
last,  finding  he  was  not  likely  to  come  that  day,  tbey  judged 
lliat  some  accident  had  detained  him ;  and,  being  loth  to 
depart  entirely  without  their  errand,  they,  with  one  accord^ 
requested  that  Mr.  Brooke  would  perform  the  service  for 
them,  and  expound  a  part  of  the  Seripturjes.  He  coo«> 
sented,  and  the  previous  prayers  being  over,  he  opened 
the  Bible,  and  preached  extempore  on  the  first  text  that 
struck  his  eye.  in  the  middle  of  his  discourse  the  clergy- 
man entered,  and  found  the  whole  congregation  in  tears. 
He  entreated  Mr. Brooke  to  proceed;  but  this  he  modestly 
refused ;  and  the  other  as  modestly  declared,  that,,  after 
the  testimony  of  superior  abilities,  which  he  perceived  io 
the  moist  eyes  of  all  present,  he  would  think  it  pre- 
sumption and  folly  t0  hazard  any  thing  of  his  own.  Ao« 
cordingly^  the  ooncluding  pragters  alone  were  satd;,  and 
the  congregation  dismissed  for  the4ay. 


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BROOKS.  dll 

Ai&Mg  bid  tetmtlu  and  hunble  fritends,  be  w^  the 
betlevdient  dhd  getieroas  character  he  bad  been  aecus-* 
tonied  to  depict  itt  bifi  works ;  add  it  may  be  traly  said, 
whilst  be  bad  the  means, — ^be  relieved  the  poor,  comforted 
the  afflicted,  Converted  the  weak,  and  iitersdlj  went  about 
doing  good. 


CHARLOTTE  BROOKE 

Was  daughter  of  the  above,  and  was  ode  of  the  brightest 
literary  ornamedts  of  her  country.  It  is  to  be  regretted  of 
a  lady  so  celebrated^  so  little  is  known.  Her  first  publica- 
tion was  a  translation  of  a  Song,  and  Monody  by  Carblan, 
in  '*  Walker's  Irish  Bards ;"  to  neither  of  these  translations 
did  she  affix  her  name.  Her  translation  of  the  Monody  is 
thus  prefaced  by  Walker :  "  For  the  benefit  of  the  English 
reader,  I  shall  here  give  an  elegant  Paraphrase  of  this 
Monody  by  a  young  lady,  whose  name  I  am  enjoined  to 
conceal — with  the  modesty  ever  attendant  on  true  merit, 
and  with  the  sweet  timidity  natural  to  her  sex,  she  shrinks 
from  the  public  eye."  She  was,  however,  at  length  pre* 
vailed  od  by  Mr.  Walker,  and  others  of  her  literary  friends, 
to  conquer  her  timidity,  and  to  engage  in  a  work  for  whicU 
she  seemed  admirably  calculated.  Accordingly,  in  th^ 
year  1787,  she  uddertook  a  translation  of  such  production^ 
of  merit  of  the  ancient  and  modern  Irish  Bards,  as  sha 
could  collect  amongst  her  friends,  and  in  the  year  follow-* 
ing  appeared  her  *'  Reliques  of  Irish  Poetry;"  a  work 
udiversally  and  justly  admired,  as  affording  gratification, 
both  to  the  antiquary  and  lover  of  poesy. 

Id  the  year  1791,  she  once  more  presented  het^elf  btfibra 
the  public  eye,  as  in  the  early  part  of  that  year,  she  pdb- 
lished  "  The  School  for  Christians,  in  Dialogues,  for  tb6 
use  of  Children."  In  the  preface  to  this  little  work,  she 
informs  us,  that  **  her  only  object  in  this  publication  is, 
the  happiness  of  s^^ing  it  become  useful  to  her  species, 
and  the  picture  of  bestowidg  the  profits  of  the  book  ott 


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file  BROOKS. 

the  enlargemeDt  of  a  little  plan  she  has  formed,  for  the 
charitable  education  of  children,  whose  parents  are  too 
poor  to  afford  them  the  means  of  instruction.''  But  her 
praise*worthy  literary  labours  did  not  close  here :  auxious 
to  do  honour  to  the  memory  of  her  father,  she  re*published 
all  his  works,  to  which  she  prefixed  a  well-written  sketch 
of  his  life.  There  her  exertions  in  the  fields  of  literature 
terminated ;  for  shortly  after  (on  the  fi9th  March,  1793) 
a  malignant  fever  put  an  end  to  her  valuable  life. 

It  is  said,  she  wrote  a  tragedy  entitled  ^'  Belisarius,'' 
which  was  spoken  very  highly  of  by  those  who  had  read 
it ;  but  the  manuscript  of  which  is  supposed  to  be  lost. 


JOHN  BROOKS,  oe  BROOKES, 
An  ingenious  mezzotinto  engraver,  was  a  native  of  Ire* 
land,  and  it  is  to  his  instruction  the  world  is  indebted  for 
two  very  celebrated  mezzotinto  engravers,  M'Ardell,  and 
Houston,  who  were  both  apprenticed  to  him. 

The  year  that  Brooks  left  Ireland  is  unknown ;  but  on 
his  arrival  in  Bngland,  he  produced  a  specimen  of  an  art 
which  has  since  been  applied  and  extended  to  a  very  con- 
siderable manufacture  at  Liverpool  and  several  other 
places  in  England — which  was  printing  in  enamel  colours 
to  burn  on  china,  which  having  been  shewn  to  that  gene- 
ral patriot  and  worthy  character.  Sir  Theodore  Jansen,  he 
conceived  it  might  prove  a  national  advantage,  and  readily 
embarked  in  it,  Uking  York-house,  at  Battersea,  and  fitting 
it  up  at  a  considerable  expense.  One  Gynn,  a  native  of 
Ireland,  a  very  ingenious  designer  and  engraver,  was  em- 
ployed, with  the  celebrated  John  Hall,  who  at  that  time 
was  very  young.  The  subjects  they  chose,  consisted  for 
the  most  part  of  stories  from  Ovid  and  Homer,  and  were 
greatly  admired,  not  only  for  their  beauty  of  design  and 
engraving,  but  for  the  novelty  of  execution,  and  were 
indefatigably  sought  after  by  the  curious,  for  pendents 
in  cabinets,  or  covers  to  toilet  boxes.    This  manufacture 


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BROOKS.  213 

might  have  beeo  highly  advantageous  to  all  parties,  but 
owing  to  the  bad  management  and  dissipated  conduct  of 
Brooks,  it  became  the  principal  cause  of  the  ruin  of  Jansen, 
who  was  lord  mayor  of  London  at  that  time;  but  the  com- 
mission of  bankruptcy  was  withheld  until  his  office  was 
expired,  on  account  of  his  not  wishing  to  receive  the  usual 
annual  stipend  for  his  support,  which  is  customary  under 
such  circumstances,  and  the  city  manifested  their  respect 
for  him,  by  choosing  him  afterwards  into  the  office  of 
chamberlain,  which  he  held  until  his  decease* 

At  the  breaking  up  of  this  manufactory.  Brooks  took 
up  his  residence  in  a  place  more  congenial  to  his  nature, 
namely,  a  public-house,  situated  in  Westminster,  and  kept 
by  one  Rose,  and  so  attached  was  he  either  to  his  host,  or 
the  ''  bosom  of  his  family,"  that  he  stirred  not  out  of  his 
apartments  for  several  years.  On  Rose's  quitting  this 
bouse,  Brooks  manifested  his  regard  for  him  by  following 
him  to  the  **  White  Hart,"  Bloomsbury,  where  he  re- 
mained in  the  same  happy  state  of  seclusion  for  years,  and 
was  at  last  compelled  to  leave  the  house  by  an  event  which 
be,  no  doubt,  feelingly  regretted — the  decease  of  his 
landlord ;  thus  were  separated  two  congenial  souls,  which 
nothing  in  all  probability  could  have  separated,  except 
death,  or  a  bailiff.  After  this  unhappy  occurrence,  his 
old  friend  Hall  (^ho  was  then  very  eminent)  took  him 
home  **  from  whose  house,"  says  his  biographer,  with  an 
elegant  archness,  **  he  never  moved  until  turned  eut  by  th& 
undertakers.'^ 

Although  in  his  latter  days  he  was  systematically  dis- 
sipated, yet  it  is  recorded  of  him,  that  he  was  possessed  of 
a  great  share  of  industry  in  the  early  part  of  his  life,  and 
made  a  copy  from  the  print  of  Hogarth's  Richard  111.  in 
pen  and  ink,  which  was  esteemed  a  miracle;  for  when  it 
was  shewn  to  Hogarth,  who  was  desired  to  view  it  with 
attention,  he  was  so  far  deceived,  as  to  reply,  he  saw 
nothing  in  it  remarkable,  but  that  it  was  a  very  tine  ion 
pression ;  and  was  not  convinced^until  the  original  wa» 


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fit4  BRCrtJNCKER. 

prodqc^>  to  shew  that  tbU  wt^c  a  viMrj^tiqi^  in  toque  trifling 
circfftinstances. 

He  lived  about  the  year  1742,  Hit  prints  are  chiefly 
portraits;  amongst  which  are  Hugh  Boulter,  Archbishop 
of  AriQ(^b,  and  William  Aldrioh,  lord  mayor  of  Dablin. 
There  is  also  a  print  of  the  bi^ttle  of  the  Boyne  by  him 
after  Wyck. 


SiE  WILLIAM  BROUNCKER, 

Viscount  of  Castle  LroNs^an  eminent  mathemati-^ 
cian,  and  the  first  president  of  the  Royal  Society,  was  born 
about  the  year  16$0*  He  received  no  regular  university 
eduoation,,  but  applied  himself  with  such  diligence  to  the 
study  of  the  matheooiatics^  as  to  arrive  at  great  perfection 
in  tl^at  useful  branch  of  knowledge.  He  succeeded  to  his 
father's  honours  in  1645,  and  in  June  in  the  following 
year  be  was  created  M.D.  of  the  university  of  Oj^fcurd* 
In  April  1660,  he  subscribed  with  many  otherS;^  a  declara^ 
tion  wherein  General  Monk  was  acknowledged  the  restorer 
of  the  laws  and  privileges  of  these  nations^ 

On  the  incorporatioq  of  the  Royal  Society  ip  1662,  be 
tvas  appointed  president  pro  tempore,  a  situation  which 
wat  at  first  continued  to  him  by  monthly,  and  afterwards 
by  yearly  elections^  la  this  capacity  he  continued  about 
fifteen  years,  and  was  of  considerable  service,  as  well  as 
a  distinguished  ornament  to  that  learned  body.  He  also 
enjoyed  the  offices  of  chancellor  to  Queen  Catherine,^  and 
keeper  of  her  great  seal ;  and  was  one  of  the  commissioners 
for  executing  the  ofiice  of  lord  high  admiral,  and  master 
of  St.  Catherine's  hospital,  near  the  Tower  of  London. 
This  last  he  obtained  in  1681,  after  a  long  suit  at  law 
with  Sir  Robert  Atkins,  one  of  the  judges  of  the  cojmnu>n 
pleas* 

He  died  at  his  house  in  St.  James's  Street^  Westminster, 
April  5,  1684,  aged  sixty-four  years,  and  was  l^uried  oo 
the  14th  of  the  same  month,  in  a  vault  which  he  had  pr^ 


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BROWN.  ei5 

pared  fdr  himttlf  in  the  middle  of  tbedioirbeloiigiog  to 
the  boapital  of  St.  Catherine. 

A  Ym  of  his  irorkt  are  to  be  found  in  Park's  edilion  of 
Lord  Ofibrd'd  Noble  AQtbors* 


DR.  JEMMET  BROWN 
Was  desoended  from  a  respectable  family  long  settled  at 
Cork.  His  grandfather  was  a  merchant  eS  considerable 
ooaseqaeoce,  and  intending  his  eldest  son  for  tile  meiTcan* 
tile  profession,  sent  him  to  Holland  at  an  ^u^ly  age^  to^ 
qnalify  himself  io  various  branches  of  commerce,  thai 
eould  not  be  acquired  in  his  native  eouotry.  When  he 
had  remained  in  the  Netherlands  abont  three  or  four  jeafs^ 
his  father  sent  for  him  bomei  for  the  double  purpose  of 
Mttling  him  in  marriage  and  in  business.  He  dutifully 
obeyed  his  father's  letter  as  speedily  as  possible,  add 
landed  at  the  cvstom-bouse  quay,  at  Cork,  on  a  Sunday 
morning,  at  a  time  when  the  congregatiom  were  coming 
out  of  Christ-church.  Not  having  se«i  his  native  eoun- 
Uy  for  some  years,  he  selected  a  post  near  theoburck,  and 
wbere^  placing  himself  aguoit  it  io  a  pensive  yet  interest* 
i«g  posture,  he  beheld  the  various  groupes  passing  by^ 
Mmi  gazed  upon  ibem  ail  indifferent,  till  be  saw  om 
^  whose  fairy  form  was  never  to  be  forgot ;"  he,  of  coursci 
followed  her  home,  and  determined  it  was  invpoasible  to 
bt  happy  wiflh  any  other  woman^  The  next  morning  he 
received  the  agreeable  commands  to  prepare  himself  to 
visit  his  intended  bride;  hi9  feelings  we  sbalt  not  attempt 
to  describe;  he  glooiHiy  obeyed ^  but  what  were  his 
ttraasports,  hia  excess  of  jo^,  when,,  upon  the  iotioducCfoir, 
be  found  her  to  be  the  very  same  young  lady  whon>  he 
beheld  the  morning  before,  and  whom  the  ev^ery  wish  of 
hi»  heart  was  talead  to  the  hymeweal  altar.  It  is  almost 
needless  to  say  t^ey  we^e  married  in  a  month,  and  the 
iobjeot  of  the  present  memoir  was  «be  first  frails  of  that 
ttMnrii^ge. 


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«16  BROWN. 

Mr.  Brown  being  intended  by  bis  parents  for  the 
cbnrcb/was  educated  accordingly,  and,  after  passing 
through  the  forms  of  the  university,  ordained,  and  through 
the  interest  of  his  father,  shortly  obtained  a  handsome 
living.  How  long  he  continued  in  this  situation  has  not 
been  recorded,  but  his  next  promotion  was  to  the  deanery 
of  Elpbin,  which  had  the  advantage  of  affluence  being 
attached  to  it.  This  benefice  he  obtained  through  the 
interest  of  Henry  Boyle,  Earl  of  Shannon,  at  that  time 
speaker  of  the  house  of  commons  of  Ireland,  and  the 
^'  Scandalous  Chronicle"  declared,  that  this  interest  was 
first  formed  by  Mr.  Brown's  making  the  speaker  a  present 
of  a  fine  hunter,  who  from  that  instant  perceived  his 
talents,  and  patronized  him  accordingly. 

Whether  the  hunter  had  any  share  in  Dr.  Brown's 
advancement  is  now  of  little  consequence ;  suffice  it  to 
observe,  the  politics  of  Ireland  at  that  time  ran  very  high; 
the  whole  kingdom  were  divided  amongst  two  parties, 
known  by  the  name  of  Williamites  and  Jacobites  (nearly 
answering  the  principles  of  our  Whig  and  Tory).  Brown 
was  of  the  former,  on  the  purest  principles  of  attachment; 
and  would,  if  necessary,  defend  those  principles  at  the 
hazard  of  his  life.  Boyle  was  likewise  a  Williamite  up 
to  the  head  and  ears;  and  so  staunch  an  advocate  for  the 
cause  as  Brown  was,  could  not  well  miss  the  patronage  of 
the  former.  Brown  was  likewise  a  keen  sportsman;  so 
was  Boyle:  thus  from  a  congeniality  of  amusements,  as 
well  as  politics,  an  union  was  formed  between  both,  which 
only  terminated  with  the  life  of  the  earl. 

In  1743,  Dr.  Brown  was  consecrated  Bishop  of  Killaloe ; 
soon  after  of  Dromore;  and  in  1745,  Bishop  of  his  native 
city  of  Cork.  Here  he  continued  twenty>seven  years,  and 
in  that  time  had  the  opportunity  of  providing  handsomely 
for  his  sons  and  relations ;  a  great  number  of  whom  were 
bred  ecclesiastics.  As  a  diocesan,  Dr.  Brown  was  a  great 
disciplinarian;  keeping  his  clergy  to  constant  residence 
and  punctual  duties,  and  examining  with  great  accuracy 


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BROWN.  217 

into  all  parochial  matters  at  his  visitations.  He  gave  the 
example  himself  bj  constantly  attending  divine  service 
twice  a  day,  and  by  preaching  every  Sunday  evening  at 
the  several  parish  churches  alternately. 

Daring  his  residence  at  Cork,  he  was  involved  in  a 
contest  with  one  of  his  clergy,  of  the  name  of  Dallas,  on 
account  of  the  latter  not  complying  with  the  orders  of  his 
superior.  The  fact  was  this :  The  ceremony  of  marriage, 
before  the  bishop's  time,  was  equally  performed  in  the 
private  house  of  the  parties,  or  at  church,  just  as  they 
themselves  settled  it:  Dr.  Brown  issued  out  general  direc- 
tions at  an  early  visitation,  and  by  the  usual  official 
notices, ''  That  no  clergyman  in  his  diocese,  after  such  a 
day,  should  marry  any  couple  in  his  diocese,  but  in  the 
body  of  the  parish  church  of  one  of  the  parties."  This 
order  was  inadvertently  broke  through  by  Mr.  Dallas,  who 
was  persuaded,  by  the  influence  of  his  pupil  (a  gentleman 
of  considerable  fortune),  to  marry  him  at  his  own  house. 
Dallas  perhaps  thought  the  particular  occasion  might 
make  the  bishop  overlook  it;  or,  at  the  worst,  a  slight 
apology  would  atone  for  his  transgression :  bat  Dr.  Brown 
was  not  of  a  temper  thus  easily  to  forgive  so  marked 
a  dereliction  from  the  path  of  duty.  He  summoned  Dallas 
to  appear  before  him,  and  he  not  willing  to  make  such  an 
apology  as  his  bishop  dictated,  a  spiritual  law-suit  com- 
menced, which,  after  travelling  through  all  the  courts, 
finally  rested  in  a  confirmation  of  the  bishop's  sentence, 
which  was  a  suspension  from  all  ecclesiastical  duties. 

Blame  was  attached  to  both  parties  at  the  time:  to 
Dallas,  for  the  first  breaking  through  the  positive  orders  of 
his  diocesan ;  and  to  the  bishop,  for  pursuing  an  offence  of 
so  trivial  a  nature  with  such  rigid  perseverance.  This 
apology,  however,  may  fairly  be  made  for  the  bishop,  who, 
beside  having  officially  a  fault  to  correct  in  his  inferior, 
had  to  give  an  example  to  the  rest  of  his  clergy,  who 
might  on  other  occasions  plead  apologies  for  transgressing 
his  orders.    The  issue,  however,  was  fatal  to  poor  Dallas, 


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' 


918  BROWN. 

be  DOl  only  lost  hia  curacy,  but  soon  after  his  school;  nor 
4id  we  ever  bear  he  was  properly  remnneratsd  by  the 
&iiiily  for  whom  be  risked  and  lost  so  much. 

In  1772  Dr.  Brown  was  removed  to  Elphio,  and  in  1775 
consecrated  Archbishop  of  Tuam;  previous  to  which 
period  bis  wife  died,  and  be  entered  into  the  conmibial 
state  a  second  time,  at  the  steady  age  of  sevoity,  choosing 
for  bis  partner  the  widow  of  a  Captain  Barry,  a  lady 
possessed  of  an  agreeable  person,  highly  aocompHsbed, 
and  who  had  attained  the  age  of  thirty.  The  seeming 
inequality  of  this  match  was  commented  on  in  the  usual 
agreeable  way,  and  many  jokes  (which  cannot  be  too 
Uliidi  reprobated)  passed  at  the  tea  tables  and  other 
parties  of  the  friends  of  both  sides ;  amongst  wbidi  the 
following  6011  tmd  was  long  recorded : — 

The  day  after  the  ceremony,  several^  of  the  Ushops  and 
dignified  clergy  of  his  acquaintance,  who  happened  to  be 
in  or  near  Dublin,  agreed  to  go  and  compliment  him  on 
the  occasion.  The  archbishop,  who  was  always  a  man  of 
high  spirits,  and  which  he  enjoyed  to  the  last,  bore  their 
raillery  with  great  good  humour,  and  retaliated  on  them 
in  their  own  way.  **  Well,  but,"  said  the  Bishop  of  Derry, 
<' though  we  need  not  ask  you,  my  lord,  how  you  are, 
seeing  you  in  such  high  spirits,  how  does  Mrs.  Brown  bear 
the  hurry  of  her  new  situation  f" — "  Oh !  perfectly  well,** 
leplied  the  other;  ^'for  I  can  assure  you  she  had  the  full 
benefit  of  clergy  T— "  I  am  heartily  sorry  for  that,**  said 
the  bishop,  looking  very  gravely ;  **'as  you  know,  my  lord, 
by  our  laws,  she  cannot  have  that  benefit  a  second  time/* 

He  died  in  his  archbishopric  in  about  eight  years  after 
his  marriage  (1782),  without  issue  by  his  last  wife,  but 
leaving  several  grandchildren,  and  other  relations,  behind 
him.  His  eldest  son  Edward  died  a  dean,  and  left  several 
children.  His  second  son  Thomas  died  early,  chancellor 
of  the  diocese,  without  a  family.  His  eldeat  daughter 
a»arried  a  dignified  clergyman,  and  bis  youngest  <Ued 
unmarried. 


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BROWN-  ai9 

Dr.  Blown**  firsi  wife  was  fi  Misf  Wtterhouie,  tister  of 
tbe  cbancqlloir  of  (be  diooe^e^  which  offic?  be  afterwards 
conferred  on  his  second  sonThoiii£i9.  His  l^it  wife's  maiden 
naqae  was  Swan^  sifter  to  Bellingham  Swan,  Esq.  and 
afterwards  piarrjed  to  Captain  Barry,  son  of  the  celebrated 
Sir  Edward  Barry,  who,  beside  being  an  eminent  pbjsi<^ 
ciaq,  wrote  the  celebrated  treatise  '*  On  the  Wines  of  the 
Artients.** 

Tbe  bishop's  country  reiideoce  was  Riverstown,  a  pa* 
terqa)  estate  pear  Cork,  wbioh  be  laid  out  with  great 
eleganoe»  and  where  he  Ured  with  mvch  hospitality.  His 
town  resideooe,  called  "  The  Bidiop*s  Palace,"  had  little  to 
value  itself  on  as  a  buildiog,  besides  its  being  roomy^ 
and  a  good  situation :  the  library  is  a  pretty  good  one,  and 
ope.  of  tbe  rooms  is  ornamented  with  a  series  of  all  tbe 
portraits  of  the  Bishops  of  Cork  since  the  Reformation. 

Amongst  the«e  portraits,  thai  of  tbe  celebrated  Dr. 
William  Lyon,  promoted  to  this  see  by  Queen  Elizabeth 
in  lias,  deserves  particular  notice^  from  the  following 
short  history  of  the  original  :--* 

Lyon,  thoi^gb  a  map  of  tolerable  educatiop,  bad  taken 
ap  early  likiag  to  the  sea  service,  and  by  degrees  rose  to 
tb<}  command  of  a  frigate,  where  he  sigqalised  himself  so 
much  under  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  that  Queen  Elizabeth 
promised  lam  tbe  first  place  in  her  power.  Soon  after, 
the  bishopric  of  Cork  became  vacant ;  a»d  Lyon,  relying 
on  her  promise,  without  finding  in  himself  any  disqoaiifi*^ 
calioM  for  the  office^  solicited  her  for  the  bishopric.  Tbe 
queen  at  first  excused  herself  op  account  of  the  impro- 
priety of  the  request ;  but  l^pp  pressing  her  on  tbe  words 
of  her  promise,  which  were  without  any  exception,  and 
which  he  relied  on,  the  queen  consented,  and  he  was  con- 
secrated bishop  of  that  see  in  the  spring  of  1583. 

He  was  bishop  of  this  diocese  near  thirty-five  years ; 
mad,  dMriag  all  that  time,  behaved  himself  with  great  pro- 
priety UB  a  clergynum ;  and,  being  a  man  of  spirit,  and 
much  attached  to  tbe  Reformation^  was  very  serviceable  in 


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220  BROWN. 

the  promotion  and  discipline  of  the  protestant  religion. 
He  never  attempted  to  preach  bnt  once,  and  that  was  on 
the  queen's  death,  which  it  is  supposed  he  lamented  with 
great  sincerity.  Amongst  other  topics  of  discourse  on 
this  occasion,  he  observed,  '^  Fatal  as  the  day  was  for  all 
true  lovers  of  the  church  and  state,  still  there  were  no 
doubts  but  many  would  be  glad  of  it :  this  wish  (said  the 
honest  blunt  zealot)  they  are  now  fully  gratified  in ;  the 
day  is  come,  and  the  d— 1  do  them  good  with  it.** 

By  his  portrait,  he  appears  to  have  been  a  stout,  short, 
swarthy-looking  man ;  his  right-hand  extended,  and  want- 
ing the  forefinger,  which  was  shot  off  in  one  of  his  early 
engagements  with  the  Spaniards. 

Dr.  Brown  was  in  his  person  a  tall,  manly,  well-looking 
figure,  with  a  piercing  eye,  and  decisive  countenance.  He 
was  in  principles  a  high  churchman,  and  executed  the 
duties  of  a  bishop  with  that  punctuality  which  demanded 
obedience  from  his  inferior  clergy.  He  preached  more 
sermons,  perhaps,  than  any  dignitary  of  his  time,  though 
we  do  not  know  that  he  printed  any,  or  that  he  published 
any  thing  else,  except  one  or  two  pamphlets  during 
his  contest  with  Dallas,  which,  though  written  forcibly 
enough  in  respect  to  the  subject,  bore  no  marks  of  superior 
writing. 

Though  possessed  of  no  great  eloquence  as  a  lord  of 
parliament,  yet  he  was  a  good  matter  of  fact  speaker,  and 
was  always  reckoned  useful  in  the  house,  which  he  regu- 
larly attended  in  the  busy  time  of  parliament.  In  the 
recess,  and  indeed  the  greatest  part  of  the  year,  he  mostly 
resided  at  Riverstown.  He  had  a  social  turn  amongst 
intimates,  and  particularly  amongst  the  ladies,  who  formed 
most  of  his  parties;  and  to  whom  he  always  shewed  those 
particular  attentions  which  form  so  much  the  characteristic 
trait  of  an  Irishman. 

Being  so  many  years  Bishop  of  Cork,  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  providing  handsomely  for  most  of  the  branches 
of  his  family,  and  he  was  too  good  a  christian  '^  to  neglect 


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BROWN.  €«1 

his  own  household."    To  his  two  sons  he  gave  good 

livings,  with  church  dignities.     To  his  elder  brotbeo 

Dr.  St.  John  Brown,  a  living  worth  near  1000/.  per  annum. 

To  his  second  brother,  who  was  a  layman,  the  registry  of 

the  city  of  Cork,  a  place  worth  then  between  four  and  five 

hundred  pounds  per  year.    His  nephews,  his  cousins,  and 

other  relations,  who  were  bred  to  the  church,  likewise 

partook  of  his  bounties :  nor  did  he  neglect  the  inferior 

clergy  (though  no  way  related  to  him),  who  had  services, 

large  families,  or  considerable  merit,  to  recommend  them. 

Observing  one  day,  at  a  visitation,  a  stout  country,  or 

rather  ploughman- looking  parson  in  the  consistory,  with  a 

tattered  gown  and  old  wig,  he  particularly  examined  him 

in  respect  to  the  state  of  his  church.    The  honest  parson, 

who  felt  poverty  to  be  no  disgrace,  told  him  he  was  a 

curate  of  but  fifty  pounds  per  year,  for  which  he  did  the 

duties  of  two  churches ;  that  be  bad  eight  children ;  that 

not  being  able  to  afford  a  horse,  he  walked  thirty  miles 

every  year  up  to  the  visitation ;  and  if  it  was  not  for  the 

additional  labour  of  his  own  hands,  with  those  of  his  wife 

and  eldest  son,  they  must  want  the  necessaries  of  life! 

This  artless  stpry  had  a  visible  effect  even  upon  the 
pampered  Levites  around  bim.  The  bishop  heard  him 
with  particular  attention,  commended  his  conduct,  aud 
told  him,  he  would  take  the  first  opportunity  to  remedy  his 
situation  ;  which  he  punctually  performed,  as  in  less  than 
three  months  he  presented  bim  with  a  living,  worth 
between  four  and  five  hundred  pounds  per  year. 

The  poor  curate,  on  receiving  this  intelligence,  brought 
up  his  whole  family  to  town,  to  thank  in  person  their 
generous  benefactor.  The  bishop  was  pleased  with  this 
honest  mark  of  gratitude,  entertained  them  with  great 
hospiulity,  and  dismissed  them  with  little  domestic  pre- 
sents. He  enjoyed  this  living  for  many  years,  and  educated 
his  family  with  great  propriety:  on  every  visitation-day 
he  previously  called  at  the  bishop's  palace,  to  pay  his 
respects  to  his  patron ;  and,  as  the  parson  was  always  fond 


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«£  BROW  RE. 

of  punch,  the  first  toast  he  draoJe  aftet  dioner,  from  a  fall 
bowl  of  this  liquor^  was  ''  The  Bisliop  of  Cork  and  RosS) 
and  God  bless  him !" 

Dr.  Brown  died  at  the  adyanced  age  of  eighty,  and 
it  was  whispered,  that  some  time  prior  to  his  d^cease^ 
he  felt  the  full  force  of  Dr.  Johnson's  vitriolic  maXim ; 
'^That  marriages  that  don't  find  people  equal,  seldom 
make  them  so." 


PETER  BROWNE,  D.D. 
Was  a  native  of  Ireland.  He  was  a  senior  fellow  of 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and  afterwards  provost  of  it,  from 
whence  he  was  removed  to  the  sees  of  Cork  and  Ross,  by 
letters  patent,  dated  the  11  th  of  January,  1709,  and  was 
consecrated  on  the  10th  of  April,  1710.  He  had  no  eccle- 
siastical preferments  before  his  advancement  to  these  sees, 
except  a  lectureship  in  St.  Bridget's  parish,  Dublin,  while 
be  was  a  junior  fellow,  and  after  that  the  parish  of  St 
Mary's  in  that  city,  being  appointed  thereto  by  an  act  of 
'parliament,  which  created  the  parishes  of  St.  Paul's  and 
St.  Mary's  out  of  the  old  parish  of  St.  Micham.  But  he 
stirreddered  the  same  on  the  9th  of  November,  1699  to 
the  dean  and  chapter  of  Christ-church  (who  had  the  colla- 
tion thereto)  on  his  promotion  to  his  provostship. 

fie  died  at  Cork  on  the  25th  of  August,  1735.  **  He 
was,''  says  Hartis, ''  ad  austere,  retired,  and  mortified  man ; 
but  a  prelate  of  the  first  rank  for  learning  among  his 
brethren,  and  was  esteemed  the  best  preacher  of  his  age, 
for  the  gracefulness  of  his  manner,  and  a  fine  elocution. 
He  studied,  and  was  master  of  the  most  exact  and  just 
pronunciation,  heightened  by  the  sweetest  and  most  solemn 
tone  of  voice ;  and  set  off  by  a  serious  air,  and  a  venerable 
person;  all  which  united,  commanded  the  most  awftrl 
attention  in  his  hearers  of  M  sorts.  He  was  eminent  for 
hi*  critical  skill  in  the  Greek  and  Hebrew,  which  enabled 
him  ta  explain  the  beauty,  energy,  and  lubtiittity  of  the 


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BROWNE.  ££3 

sacred  writings  to  great  advantage :  and  as  he  bad  formed 
himsdf  upon  the  best  models  of  antiquity,  be  quickly  in* 
troduced  a  true  taste  of  eloquence  into  that  society,  of 
which  he  was  a  member  and  head ;  and  utterly  banished 
that  false  glitter  of  shining  thoughts,  and  idle  affectation 
of  points,  and  turns,  which  reigned  before  in  the  sermons 
of  their  most  eminent  preachers ;  by  shewing  how  con<» 
temptible  they  were,  compared  with   the  solidity  and 
dignity  which  discovered  themselves  in  his  plainer,  but 
more  correct  and  nervous  periods.    Yet  after  all,  his  most 
distinguished  talent  was  that  of  inspiring  true  piety  into 
the  hearts  of  all  that  heard  hiih  preach  or  pray ;  his  heart 
was  full  of  it ;  and  his  whole  air,  manner,  and  tone  of 
voice  <wbetber  in  the  pulpit,  or  at  the  altar)  breathed  and 
inspired  it  pure  and  fervent.     The  liturgy  of  the  church 
of  Ireland  was  seen  in  a  new  light  of  beauty  and  excellency, 
when  he  ojBiciated:  and  more  particularly  the  communion 
service  was  felt  and  confessed,  by  every  man  that  heard  it 
from  bis  mouth,  to  be  an  heavenly  composition. 

"  His  whole  life  was  one  uniformten  or  of  piety  and  true 
religion.  He  expended  vast  sums  in  charitable  uses;  but 
took  particular  pains  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  theni 
private ;  even  those  who  were  relieved,  knew  not  the  hand 
from  whence  their  assistance  came.  He  made  it  a  role, 
never  to  trust  any  person  to  convey  his  charity  a  second 
time,  who  bad  once  divulged  what  he  desired  should  be 
kept  secret  from  all  the  world. 

*^  By  bis  generous  encouragement  several  churches  were 
rebuilt  and  repaired,  and  a  handsotne  public  library,  with 
a  large  room  for  a  charity  school,  erected  near  his  cathe> 
dral.  Although  those  good  works  were  not  entirely  done 
at  his  own  eaepense;  yet  he  was  the  most  considerable 
contributor  to  them.  And  in  such  cases,  his  most  inti* 
mate  friends  could  seldom  discover  the  amotuit  of  his  dis* 
borsements*  He  expended  upward  of  2000/.  on  a  country 
house  and  improvements  at  Ballinaspack,  or  Bisbopstown, 
near  Cofrk  ;  wbidi  be  bitik  for  a  summer  retreat,  and  left 


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€24  BROWNE. 

to  his  successors  free  from  any  charge^  as  he  did  aliso  his 
improvements  at  Bishopscourt,  in  Cork,  of  a  considerable 
value. 

"  He  was  a  great  enemy  to  death-bed  donations ;  and 
therefore  what  he  left  by  his  will  to  public  uses,  was 
chiefly  a  contingency  of  3000L  if  a  young  female  relation 
of  his  died  before  the  age  of  twenty-one,  or  her  marriage^ 
or  if  she  married  without  the  consent  of  a  clergyman, 
under  whose  care  he  left  her.  If  any  of  these  things  should 
happen,  then  he  ordered  the  said  3000/.  to  be  laid  out  on 
the  purchase  of  a  rent,  one  third  part  of  which  to  be  given 
as  a  salary  to  a  librarian  for  the  library  erected  near  St. 
Finbarr's  church ;  another  third  part  for  the  purchase  of 
books  to  supply  the  said  library ;  and  the  remainder  for 
the  benefit  of  widows  and  children  of  poor  clergymen,  to 
be  distributed  according  to  the  discretion  of  his  successors. 
He  left  also  20/.  to  the  poor  of  the  parish  of  St.  Finbarr, 
100/.  for  clothing  poor  children,  and  putting  them  out 
apprentices ;  and  he  bequeathed  a  part  of  his  books  to  the 
library  aforesaid.'^ 

He  greatly  distinguished  himself  by  the  following  con- 
troversial writings : — 1.  "A  Refutation  of  Toland's  Chris- 
tianity, not  mysterious.^'  This  pamphlet  was  the  founda- 
tion of  his  preferment,  and  it  was  the  occasion  of  his  say- 
ing to  Toland  himself,  that  it  was  he  who  had  made  him 
bishop  of  Cork.  2.  '^  The  Progress,  Extent,  and  Limits, 
of  the  Human  Understanding,''  published  in  1728,  in  dvo. 
This  was  meant  as  a  supplemental  work,  and  displayed 
more  copiously  the  principles  on  which  he  had  confuted 
Toland.  3.  *'  Sermons,"  levelled  principally  against  the 
Socinians,  written  in  a  manly  and  easy  style,  and  were 
much  admired  at  the  time  of  their  publication.  He  like* 
wise  published  a  little  volume  in  12mo.  against  the  ^*  Cus- 
tom of  Drinking  to  the  Memory  of  the  Dead."  It  was  a 
fashion  among  the  Whigs  of  his  time  to  drink  to  the  glorious 
and  immortal  memory  of  king  William  HI.  which  gi^eatly 
disgusted  our  worthy  bishop,  and  is  supposed  to  have 


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fiROWNE.  225 

giyeo  rise  to  the  book  in  question.  His  notion  was, 
that  drinlcing  to  the  dead  is  tantamount  to  praying  for 
them,  and  not  as  is  in  reality  meant,  an  approbation  of 
certain  conduct  or  principles.  The  Whigs  of  course  were 
not  less  copious  in  their  libations,  and  the  only  effect  the 
book  had,  was  their  adding  good-naturedly  to  every  toast, 
^  in  spite  of  the  bishop  of  Cork.'' 


PATRICK  BROWNE. 

This  ingenious  and  eminent  naturalist  was  the  fourth  son 
of  Edward  Browne,  Esq.  a  gentleman  of  respectable 
family  and  handsome  estate,  in  the  county  of  Mayo,  where 
the  subject  of  the  present  memoir  was  born,  at  Woodstock, 
the  paternal  inheritance,  in  the  parish  of  Crossboyne,  and 
county  of  Mayo,  about  the  year  1720.  After  receiving  a 
good  classical  education,  he  was  sent  to  a  near  relation  in 
the  Island  of  Antigua,  in  1737-  But  the  climate  disagree- 
ing with  bis  constitution,  he  returned  in  about  a  twelve- 
month to  Europe,  and  landing  in  France,  went  directly  to 
Paris,  where  he  speedily  regained  his  health,  and  with  the 
approbation  of  his  parents,  applied  himself  diligently  to 
the  study  of  medicine,  and  particularly  to  the  improveinent 
of  bis  knowledge  in  botany,  a  science  for  which  he  always 
manifested  a  peculiar  predilection.  After  having  passed 
five  years  in  the  acquirement  of  knowledge  at  Paris,  he 
removed  to  Leyden,  where  he  remained  near  two  years, 
applying  with  assiduity  to  study,  and  at  the  expiration  of 
that  period,  obtained  from  the  famed  university  of  that 
city,  the  degree  of  M.D.  Here  he  foriped  an  intimacy 
with  Grooovius  and  Muschenbroeck,  and  commenced  a 
correspondence  with  Liunseus,  and  other  eminent  botanists 
and  learned  men. 

From  Holland  he  proceeded  to  London,  where  he  prac- 
tised his  profession  near  two  years,  and  from  thence  went 
out  again  to  the  West  Indies;  and  after  spending  some 
vont^is  in  Ai\tigua|  and  some  other  of  the  sugar  islands, 

▼  OL.  I.  Q 


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«6  BROWNE. 

he  pr<K>ecNled  to  JamaiCQ,  where  be  occupied  tbe  grentor 
part  of  hta  tiue  ia  collecting  and  preaerying  eortout  np^ 
cimens  of  the  plants,  birds,  shells,  tec.  of  thoae  luxaiioai 
soils,  with  a  view  to  the  improyement  and  elucidation  of 
Its  aataxal  historj.  During  the  time  he  reaiaiiied  in  Ja^ 
maica,  his  residence  was  chiefly  at  Kingston,  and  it  was 
he  who  first  pointed  out  the  absurdity  of  cootiBuing 
Spanish  Town  the  port  and  capital^  while  reason  plainly 
pointed  out  Kingston,  or  in  his  own  words, '^  the  defects 
of  a  port  of  clearance  to  leeward  ;'*  and  in  consequence 
of  his  writing  to  the  governor  and  cooBoil  on  the  sub- 
ject, they  represented  the  matter  so  strikingly  to  Bail 
Granyille^  the  then  president  of  the  council,  that  the  iiii-> 
mediate  adoptbn  of  the  measure  ensBed,  and  KingstoQ 
became  the  port  of  clearance  to  the  great  enlargement  of 
commerce  in  general^  as,  prior  to  this  arrangement,  when 
vessels  were  clearing  but  of  Kingston,  and  ready  to  weigh 
anchor,  they  were  obliged  to  send  near  seven  miles  to 
Spanish  Town,  by  which  they  often  suffered  great  incon* 
tenience  and  delay.  At  this  time  he  alsQ  collected  ma- 
terials, and  made  the  necessary  observations  (being  a  good 
mathematician  and  astronomer)  for  a  new  map  of  the  island 
of  Jamaica,  which  he  published  in  London,  id  Avgnst 
1755,  engraved  by  Dr.  Bayly,  on  two  sheets,  and  by  which 
the  Doctor  cleared  the  sum  of  four  htmdred^guineas. 

Soon  after  this  (March  1756)  he  published  his  •*  Civil 
and  Natural  History  of  Jamaica,**  in  foHo,  ornamented 
with  forty-nine  engravings  of  natural  history,  a  whol^sbeet 
map  of  the  island,  and  another  of  the  harbour  of  Port- 
Royal,  Kingston  Town,  &c.  Of  this  work  there  wei» 
but  two  fanndred  and  fifty  copies  printed  by  subscription, 
at  the  very  low  price  of  one  guinea,  but  a  few  n^ere  sold 
at  two  guineas  in  sheets,  by  the  printer.  Unfortunately 
all  the  copper-plates,  as  well  as  the  original  drawings, 
were  consumed  by  the  great  fife  in  Cornhill,  on  November 
7y  1765.  This  disastrous  circumstanee  prevented,  in  bia 
life*time,  a  second  edition  of  the  work,  for  whieb  he  made 


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BROWNE.  fXi 

^?^al  fprfe^tioQ9  in  bis^ different  yaya^es  to  these  islca^d^  ^ 
fair  f^i;9g«th€;  hi|  ^iiite4  thQ  W^t  Indiet^  ^  six  diferqi;^ 
periods,  and  resided  upwards  of  a  twelve-month  at  Au^i? 
gf^  ¥]^Q»  19  his  die<?e9«^,  he  fpKW.ajrded  to  Sir  Joseph 
fiimkfi,  PtHi  5.  *'  A  Ca^ogoe  of  the  Plwts  growing  ^t 
tbeSMfi^  bl^od^fLp.  cl«s«ed  ao4  desoribe^  ^e^rdiog  tq 
th?  I^iiuwevi  sysi^wi/'  iq  4(to.  gont^qning  ^Q«t  eijhtjr 
pages.  In  Exsh^w's  Geatlem^'s  and  Londpn  Magazine^ 
for  Jumt  1774a  he  pnWisb^ft  *'  4  Catft^Qg^e  of  the  Birds 
gf  Irelandgi"  and  ia  ^sImv'i  Magazine  of  August  follow* 
in^  *^  A  Cat#logi|p  of  the  Fish  of  Ireland." 

Dk,  Pfow^  long  w4  regMl^rly  kept  up  ^  qoryespon- 
dwce  yrith  tint  cel«thrat^d  Li^ux^u^^  which  oantjoned  to  bis 
deatby  a  correspondence  which,  for  the  sake  of  science  it 
would  have  been  praiseworthy  to  have  published,  but  un- 
fortunately, though  the  Doctor  was  possessed  of  the 
epistles  of  Linoros,  by  tonui  niiiccimQlaJble  neglect  he 
reitaiped  no  copies  of  his  Qwn« 

In  1788  be  prepared  for  the  press  ^  very  curious  aQ4 
iffi^fpl  Catalogue  of  the  Plants  of  the  North- West  Counties 
of  Ireland,  classed  with  g^reat  care  and  (u^qtir^y,  accordipj 
to  th©  LiiVA99an  ftystepa^  and  wntaiping  above  se?er>  hyn^ 
4ied  plantQj  nspatly  ofeaenrfd  by  hittiaielf,  having  trqHe^ 
y^ry  £^w  IQ  th#  dasQriptioQs  of  others*  This  small  trac^ 
written  ia  J^tk,  bul  oQptainiog  bqth  the  English  and 
Irish  names  and  descriptions,  might  be  of  considerable  M9^ 
\n  aisisii^g  to  eovipUe  a  ''  Flora  Hiberuia,"  a  vorl^  ^yf  ry 
|K>tai)ia(  viH  ajAovr  to  be  nfoch  wanting- 

Tha  Poctor  was  a  tall,  wmly  wan,  of  good  address, 
and  gentle  and  vnasi^qg  m^umer^^  patprally  cfae^rfvl^ 
very  temperate,  and  in  general  healthy ;  hut  in  his  latter 
ye^rs  had  violent  periodical  fits  of  the  gpyt,  by  which  h^ 
sugared  greatly.  In  the  intervals  of  these  nnwelcof^e 
vif its  be  fomied  the  Cati^logu^  of  Plants,  and  was  a)way9 
(when  in  health)  employed  4n  the  study  cf  natural  history, 
iv  mathematics.    He  married  at  a  very  early  period,  in 


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42S  BUNWORTH. 

Antigua^  a  native  of  that  island,  but  bad  no  issue.  Hif 
circumstances  were  moderate,  but  easy,  and  the  poor 
found  ample  benefit  from  his  liberality  as  well  as  profes« 
sional  skill. 

This  worthy  member  of  society  paid  the  debt  of  nature 
at  Rushbrook,  in  the  county  of  Mayo,  on  Sunday,  August 
the  29th,  1790,  and  was  interred  in  the  family  burial  place, 
at  Crossboyne.  In  his  will  he  desired  the  following 
inscription  to  be  placed  on  his  monument: — 

"  Hanc  opponi  jussit  Patri  Matri  Fratribusque  Piissimis 
et  sibi ;  Patricius  Browne,  olim  Medicus  Jamaicensis, 
qui,  nunc  insitahuiniliter  pro  turn  inter  mortuos  enu- 
merandum  deprecetur  praecis  fidelium  pro  se  illisque 
offerri;  ut  cum  Domino  Deo  requiescant  in  pace* 
Amen.** 


CHARLES  BUNWORTH 

Was  a  protestant  clergyman,  and  rector  of  Buttivant,  m 
the  county  of  Cork  for  many  years,  and  was  greatly  dis- 
tinguished for  his  patronage  and  knowledge  of  Irish 
music.  He  was  a  remarkably  good  performer  on  the 
Irish  harp,  and  at  the  time  of  his  decease,  about  the  year 
1770,  had  in  his  possession  fifteen  harps,  bequeathed  to 
him  at  various  times  by  the  minstrels  of  his  native  land, 
as  the  last  mark  of  their  gratitude  for  his  hospitality 
towards  them. 

His  own  harp  was  made  by  the  famous  Kelly  for  him, 
and  bears  an  inscription  to  that  purpose  on  its  front.  It 
is  still  preserved  by  his  descendants  with  that  care  and 
veneration,  which  so  interesting  a  relick  deserves. 

Mr.  Bunworth  had  also  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
classics.  The  celebrated  Curran  came  to  him  to  be  ex- 
amined before  he  entered  Dublin  college,  and  Mr.  Bun- 
worth  was  so  much  pleased  with  young  Curran,  that  he 
gave  him  some  pecuniary  assistance. 


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££0 


WALTER  HUSSEY  BURGH 

Came  into  parliament  under  the  aaspices  of  James,  Doke 
of  Leioster,  and  immediately  joined  the  opposition  theil 
formed  against  the  administration  of  Lord  Townsheod. 

His  speeches  when  he  first  entered  the  house  of  com- 
mons,  were  very  brilliant,  very  figurative,  and  far  more 
remarkable  for  that  elegant  poetic  taste,  which  had  highly 
distingaished  him  when  a  member  of  the  university,  than 
any  logical  illustration  or  depth  of  argument ;  every  session 
however,  took  away  somewhat  of  that  unnecessary  and 
exuberant  splendour. 

His  eloquence  (says  one  of  his  contemporaries)  was  by 
no  means  gaudy,  tumid,  nor  approaching  to  that  species  of 
oratory,  which  the  Roman  critics  denominated  Asiatic;  but 
it  was  always  decorated  as  the  occasion  required  :  it  was 
often  compressed,  and  pointed  ;  it  was  sustained  by  great 
iiigenuity,great  rapidity  of  intellect,  luminous  and  piercing 
satire ;  in  refinement,  abundant,  in  simplicity,  sterile.  The 
classical  allusions  of  this  orator,  for  he  was  most  truly  one^ 
were  so  apposite,  they  followed  each  other  in  such  bright, 
and  varied  succession,  and,  at  times,  spread  such  an  unex- 
pected and  triumphant  blaze  around  his  subject,  that  all 
persons,  who  were  in  the  least  tinged  with  literature,  could 
never  be  tired  of  listening  to  him. 

He  accepted  the  ofiice  of  prime  seijeant  during  the 
early  part  of  Lord  Buckinghamshire's  administration ;  but 
the  experience  of  one  session  convinced  him,  that  his 
sentiments  and  those  of  the  English  and  Irish  cabinets,  on 
the  great  questions  relative  to  the  independence  of  Ireland, 
would  never  assimilate.  He  soon  grew  weary  of  his  situa* 
tion ;  when  his  return  to  the  standard  of  opposition  was 
marked  by  all  ranks  of  people,  and  especially  his  own 
profession,  as  a  day  of  splendid  triumph.  Numerous  were 
the  congratulations  which  he  received  on  this  sacrifice  of 


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Mo   .  BDRGH. 

official  eraoIumeDt,  to  the  duty  which  he  owed  to  his 
country/  That  country  he  lored  even  to  enthusiasai*  He 
moved  the  question  of  a  free  trade  for  Ireland|  as  the  only 
measure  that  c^ul^  th^a  rescue  thM  4ciii^dooi  from  total 
idlBtiay.  The  reiolntioii  wiis  •eMoltfe,  «wrgttto,  aod  sae- 
TOftlful.  H«  impported  Mr.  GrattM  ^  ^1  the  nxMloin 
wbidi>fiott)iy  \M  prostrate  the  dottinioii  cf  tht  Briiisb 
fttrtiattietrt  t>if«r  Irekmd.  When  \a  did  so,  he  wm  not 
tmaequainted  with  the  vindictive  dtopdsition-of  the  EngtMi 
t^binet  of  that  -day,  towards  i^l  who  dared  to  MiintBtti 
•weh  propositions.  One  tfight,  when  he  sat  down  after  n 
•W*t  aWe,  argumentative  speech  tn  fevottr  cf  the  jost 
lights  cf  Ireland,  he  turned  to  Mr.  Grittan,  *  f  hate  now/' 
said  be,  '^  nor  do  I  repent  it,  sealed  l!be  door  agihittlBny 
OWA  prtferment;  and  I  have  made  the  fortune  oftfaetnaa 
bppoiite  to  me,''  titoiing  a  particulat  persM  who  «at  'oa 
^  tieasmy  'bench. 

ile  loved  fkme,  he  enjoyed  the  Matte  of  his  own  repatiih 
tion>  and  the  most  unclouded  moments  of  tris  life  were 
hot  those  wheti  his  escertions  at  the  bar,  or  ib  Ae  houM  if 
tommons,'(SEdledto  receive  their  accostomed  and  ampte 
tribute  of  admiration;  that,  indeed,  bntTrtrely  hap|M»el^ 
he  felt  it  ift  particular  moments,  during  bi^  c<>itoedtlq|l& 
^ith  the  Buckinghamshire  administration;  nor  i6A  tbe 
general  applause  which  he  received  counterbalance  bik 
temporary  chagrin. 

He  died  at  a  time  of  life  when  his  faculties,  always 
prompt  and  discriminating,  approirimated,  as  it  should 
seem,  to  their  fullert  perfection.  On  the  behch,  whcrfe  he 
sat  more  than  one  year,  he  had  sometimes  lost  "sight  of 
that  wise  precept  which  Lord  Bacon  lays  down  for  tbe 
conduct  of  a  judge  towards  an  advocate  at  the  bar.  **  You 
should  not  affect  the  opinion  df  poignkncy  and  erpedi^ 
tion,  by  an  impatient,  and  catching  hearing  of  the  coutn 
ifellors  dt  the  bar*."  He  seemefi  to  be  sensible  of  Us 
^  Lord  Bacon's  speech  to  Judge  Hottoa,  on  btitog  initde  a  Judge  6f  tht 


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BURKE.  fSt 

deWafiion  from  ibis;  to  be  oonriaced  ihat  Hccuri^  in 
9tuc  own  optnbnsy  like  too  great  seoarity  Id  aoy  thing, 
*'  is  mortal's  cbiefest  enemy,"  and  that,  la  oar  daily 
converse  with  the  world,  we  meet  with  others  wIk>  are 
far  wiser  diaa  ourselves,  eren  on  those  points  where  we 
fondly  imagine  our  own  wisdom  to  be  the  most  aothenti^ 
catedw  His  honest  desire  not  to  feed  eomentioa,  but  bring 
it  to  as  speedy  a  determination  as  could  reasonably  be 
wished,  deserves  great  praise. 

'^  He  did  not,"  says  Mr.  Flood,  alluding^  to  bim  bi  one 
of  his  speeches,^  live  to  be  ennoMed,  but  he  was  ennobled 
l^Aotare." 


EDMUND  BURKE. 

Tbb  early  history  of  this  great  man  ismraeually  nacligpe; 
even  the  place  of  his  birth  has  been  disputed*  According 
to  aome  of  bb  btografihers,  he  was  born  at  Dubiio ;  ae* 
cording  to  others,  in  a  little  town  in  the  ooonty  of  Cork* 
The  date  of  his  birth,  however,  is  more  certain — 1st  Ja- 
Mnry,  1730.  His  father  wa&  an  attorney  of  oongiderable 
practice;  and,  beside  the nesolts of  his  practice,  bad  an 
estate  of  150/.  or  200/.  a  year.  He  married  into  tbe 
ancient  femily  of  tlie  Nagles*  Edmund  was  bis  second 
siso ;  and,  at  a  very  early  age  was  sent  to  Baly  tore  school, 
a  seminary  in  tbe  north  of  Ireland,  well  known  for  having 
fmmAei  tbe  bar. and  the  puipk  of  that  country  with 
dumy  distiaguished  mee-^-a  feet  the  more  worthy  ^note, 
beea«se  die  school  haa,  for  near  a  century,  been  under 
the  direction  >of  Quakers,  whose  oratory  »  not  generally 
esteemed  the  best  model  of  imitation  for  young  men  of 
any  profession,  with  tbe  exception,  perhaps^  of  those  who 
are  intended  for  certain  waHcs  of  the  drama. 

Here  young  Burke  is  said  to  have  distinguished  him- 
sdf  by  «s  ardent  attachment  to  study,  a  prompt  com- 
mend of  words,  ttul  a  good  taste."  He  proved  the  power 
of  ^is  memory  by  the  facility  with  whieh  he  became  a 
Ci^ipor  m£  vei!ses,  wnd  the  precocity  of  his  invention  by 


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»2  BURKE. 

writing  a  play,  of  which  little  is  remembered,  but  ^'  that 
Alfred  was  the  principal  character,  and  that  the  piece 
contained  many  sublime  sentiments  on  liberty." 

We  lament  the  loss  of  this  school-boy  effusion ;  it  is 
important  to  mark  the  gradations  by  which  genius  mounts. 
If  the  first  essays  of  great  men  could  always  be  known, 
we  should  often  find  their  ascent  to  have  been  more  gra- 
dual than  is  usually  imagined.  Many  a  young  aspirant, 
who  is  dismayed  at  the  height  which  others  have  attained, 
would  be  cheered  and  stimulated  if  he  could  ascertain  what 
they  had  accomplished  at  his  age,  and  the  indolent  and 
confident  would  be  reminded  that  no  superiority  of  talent 
can  supply  the  necessity  of  early  and  regular  exertion. 

Burke  regarded  his  preceptor,  Mr.  Shackelton,  with 
feelings  which  did  honour  to  both.  For  nearly  forty-years 
that  he  went  annually  to  Ireland,  he  invariably  travelled 
many  miles  to  pay  him  a  visit;  nor  did  he  confine  his 
friendship  to  old  Mr.  Shackelton,  his  son  enjoyed  it  also, 
with  whom  he  was  in  habits  of  constant  correspondence. 

From  school,  Burke  went  to  Trinity  College,  Dublin ; 
but  here,  according  to  his  contemporary,  Goldsmith,  he 
did  not  distinguish  himself.  It  may  excite  surprise,  that 
the  motives  which  placed  him  at  the  head  of  his  school, 
did  not  operate  to  raise  him  at  the  university ;  but  let  the 
progress  of  the  human  mind  be  carefully  observed,  and 
the  inquirer  i;^ill  soon  .find  that  the  springs  of  action  are 
very  different  in  the  child  and  th^  adi^t.  The  child  per- 
forms his  task  from  love  of  imitation,  hope  of  reward,  and 
fear  of  punishment;  as  the  intellect  strengthens,  he  be- 
gins to  love  learning  for  itself,  or  for  the  distinction 
which  he  hopes  to  gain  by  the  exertion  of  original  powers; 
that  which  was  before  a  means  becomes  an  end,  and  his 
former  hopes  and  fears,  and  wishes,  pass  away  and  are 
forgotten. 

We  are  far  from  asserting  that  such  a  change  obtains 
in  every  mind,  and  still  farther  from  maintaining  that  it 
always  happens  at  a  particular  age.  We  only  suggpest 
this  new  birth  as  unfavourable  to  a  very  ardent  affection 


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BURKE.  £83 

for  college  exercises,  because  tbe  aatural  and  onavoidable 
distinction  between  man  and  man,  will  always  tend  to  pro* 
duce  variety  of  object.  Artificial  motives  will  alone  produce 
exact  conformity  of  movement;  and  where  these  have  not 
only  faded  from  the  view,  but  are  supplied  with  others 
which  have  a  contrary  effect,  it  must  cease  to  be  matter  of 
surprise,  that  men,  whose  originality  in  after-life  instructs 
and  delights  future  ages,  should  be  so  often  outstripped 
in  youth  by  competitors,  whose  names  will  only  be  known 
to  posterity  from  their  association  with  those  whom  they 
conquered. 

How  far  our  theory  is  correct  we  shall  leave  to  the 
decision  of  our  readers;  th^  facts  on  which  it  is  built  are  * 
numerous  and  incontrovertible;  and,  if  Burke  be  still 
thought  to  deserve  censure  for, coolness  with  regard  to 
university  honours,  let  it  be  at  least  remembered  that, 
among  the  companions  of  his  disgrace,  must  be  couuted 
Johnson,  Swift,  Gibbon,  Dryden,  and  even  Milton  him^ 
self.        . 

At  an  early  period  of  his  life,  Burke  is  said  to  have 
planned  a  confutation  of  the  metaphysical  theories  of 
Berkeley  and  Hume— a  task  which  he  never  executed. 
Indeed,  according  to  some  of  his  biographers,  his  ideas 
flowed  with  too  great  a  rapidity  to  enable  him  to  give 
that  patient  attention  to  minute  distinction,  without  which 
it  is  in  vain  to  attempt  a  confutation  of  these  astute  and 
subtle  reasoners.  We  find  it  sufficiently  difficult  to  de- 
cide upon  the  merits  of  what  he  has  done ;  and,  therefore, 
feel  no  inclination  to  institute  an  inquiry  into  the  possi- 
bility of  bis  genius. 

In  the  year  1749  we  find  young  Burke  employed  upon 
a  subject  more  analogous  to  his  future  pursuits.  At  that 
period,  Mr.  Lucas,  a  political  apothecary,  wrote  papers 
against  government,  and  acquired  by  them  as  much 
popularity  in  Dublin  as  Mr.  Wilkes  afterwards  obtained 
by  his  North  Briton  in  London.  Burke  employed  against 
Lacas  tbe  Reduciio  ad  ebswrdum ;  he  imitated  his  style 


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€04  BURKCb 

•6  CExaody  as  to  deceive  the  public;  and  panned  the 
priDoif  I«  of  his  oppotteat  to  conseqtReiiceB,  which^  in  the 
opinion  of  bis  biographera,  neoessarily  resalted  from  those 
prtnoifdesy  and  wbioh  rendered  their  falsity  manifest. 

'^  Ireknd/'says  Dr.  Bissett,  ^  thoagh  often  the  mother, 
is  seMom  the  nnrse  of  getiias.'*  She  does  not  seem  to 
have  any  exception  in  lavour  of  Mr.  Burke,  or  he  cer- 
tainly wo«ld  never  have  deserted  her  for  Scotland.  We 
are  told  he  became  ambitiotts  of  the  logical  chair  at  Glas* 
gow ;  -but,  whether  the  application  came  too  late,  or  whe^ 
ther  the  university  was  unwilling  to  receive  a  stranger, 
certain  it  is,  Burke  was  unsuccessfuL  One  account  says, 
that  he  was  passing  the  dd  oollege  gate,  when  a  labet 
afiixed  to  it,  struck  h»s  eye,  inviting  all  the  candidates  fbr 
the  professetohip  to  a  competition,  although  it  was  known 
that  a  sueceasor  was  already  fixed  upon.  Burke  was  stiM 
yoveag  enough  to  be  taken  in  by  this  form ;  althoagh  h/t 
bad  enpyed  the  benefit  of  an  academic  edacation,  and 
might  have  learnt,  we  think,  to  suspect  the  seeming  fair- 
ness of  such  challenges. 

Disappointed  in  Glasgow,  Burke  betook  himself  to 
London.  His  first  arrival  in  the  metropolis  was  in  1753 ) 
and  he  immediately  entered  himself  of  the  Temple.  Here 
he  studied  with  vniemitting  diligence;  but  his  exertions 
were  not  confined  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  for, 
althon^  from  iihe  death  of  his  elder  brotlier,  his  ultimate 
expeotatiooB  were  considerable,  yet,  as  his  father  was  still 
alive^  and  had  other  children,  his  allowance  was  small ; 
and  be  found  it  necessary  to  supply  ^  deficiency  by  his 
own  exertions,  and  we  are  told,  he  became  a  frequent 
oontrihutor  to  the  periodical  pnUicatioos.  His  manners, 
at  this  period  of  his  Ufe,  were  engaging;  his  habits  and 
oonvevsi^on  were  long  rememibered  aH  the  Grecian  coffee* 
honse  (then  the  rendeEvons  of  the  teaaplaiB),  and  they  left 
a  strong  and  favoarable  impression  of  his  talents  and 
iMrabi.  On  the  otiier  hand,  bis  deotactors  httre  ridfcnled 
him  for  pnssmg  bb  leisore  with  Mm.  WoffingtoA  tiM 


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BORKE.  BM 

4Wft^f ;  bat  it  »hoaM  km  re«dleoted  that  Ae  w«s  bh 
^cotaa^TtottiaD^  and  tlmt  iicr  focidty  wai  ito  leBs  ooorteA 
iiymen  of  getrivs  tlMD)>y  men  of  pl«aMrre. 

Allbongb  be  mis  professedly  ttodyitig  tbe  law,  hfe 
by  DO  neatn  «oDfiQed  Ininself  to  ttiat  science;  there  Is 
KBBOii  %o  fcditBte  thai  beHe^tfr  made  it  even  a  prrfttcifal 
tykject  of  atteatioo.  If  Vnd  taiay  trust  Iris  biographers,  he 
tanged  oter  the  whole  expanse  of  hutnan  kaowiedge; 
-e^n  w4eb  henarroired  t)betKnrnd«of  his  exairsionSy  they 
aippear  atmost  too  wide  «o  he  traversed  by  mortal  ener- 
f^ei>.  **  Tbe  snadies  to  which  be  gave  hittself  vp  with 
petulimr  wml  (says  Dr.  BhsettX  were  those  which  irof)lded 
Inioaan  'Bvciirey  hiMofy,  €#1^9,  politrcs  pnenmatologyy 
poelry^'aod  eritieisAi.^ 

The  «oc]Mi)aMce  ^  thil  ^plicatieti  was  a  dangerous 
Woass,  and  be  resorted  for  medical  advice  to  his  country^ 
taaai)  Dp.  Hmgetn^  ^  phyoiciain  of  gneat  skill  and  eqnsfl 
ipene^eoee.  The  l^ocior^  i6onsidering  that  diambers  are 
Itattdk  betted  adapted  for  prodochig  patients  than  caring 
diem  (M  «»ipi«ioa  irbich  we  hold  frbtti  taperience  to  be 
among  tbe  9&at^t!B^in  (the  f^i^fession),  kindly  offered  him 
vpartments  in  bis  own  beMe,  wbere  the  attention  of  this 
benctQ4»dm  man  and  hk  femly,  gradually,  with  or  without 
the  aMistMoe  of  medicine,  restored  his  patient's  health. 
Ifanong  «he  most  attentive  to  yoting  Burice,  was  the  amiable 
dMghter  «if  bis  best.  A  warm  and  mutual  attachment 
was  formed  ^between  the  convalescent  and  bis  gentle  nursCi 
mi  »ooh  after  bis  rectyvery  they  were  married.  With 
Miss  Nogeift,  Barke  seems  to  have  enjoyed  uninterrupted 
bsfppiness:  ^  In  all  tbe  snitioas  moments  of  my  public 
life  (be  tften  Baid  to  bis  iViends)  every  oare  vanishes  when 
i  «ier  my  wwn  houBO.^* 

Ib  >1^6  appesMd  the  firsl^of  bis  pro^ctions  which  he 
has  tliMigbt  i^rarthy  ^  acknowledgment.  It  is  a  veiy 
happy  imitation  of  Bolingbroke,  entitled  **  A  Vmdication 
M  MftMrti  SocieQr/'  It  was  a  bold  attempt  for  a  young 
«w,  toiy «  to  fwistfty'^sevaith  ye^r,  to  impose  upon  tbe 


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236  BURKE. 

world  tbe  tesayi  of  his  own  inexperience  for  the  prodiie- 
tions  of  a  veteran,  and '  such  a  veteran  as  Bolingbroke; 
but  the  experiment  succeeded.  Macklin  the  player,  who 
was  a  kind  of  professor  of  Belles  Lettres  at  the  Grecian 
coffee-house,  affected  to  detect  Bolingbroke  at  every  turn, 
and  exclaimed  to  the  young  templars,  Burke,  perhaps, 
being  one  of  the  audience,  ''  Oh !  this  must  be  Harry  Bo- 
lingbroke, I  know  him  by  his  cloven  foot."  It  is  also  said 
that  Warburton,  and  even  Chesterfield,  were  at  first  de- 
ceived. It  may  have  been  so,  but  to  us  the  irony  appears 
tolerably  evident.  Burke's  intention  by  this  ironical 
attack  upon  society,  as  at  present  constituted,  was  to  shew 
the  disciples  of  Lord  Bolingbroke,  that  the  same  train  of 
reasoning  by  which  their  master  had  attempted  to  explode 
the  religion  of  their  country,  in  whose  fate  they  were  but 
little  interested,  might  be  applied  to  the  destruction  of 
their  property  and  the  annihilation  of  their  privileges,  and 
wisely  concluded  that  the  argument  ad  crumenam  was  the 
most  effective,  if  not  the  soundest  which  could  be  employed 
against  them.  There  is  a  radical  fallacy  in  the  reasoning 
of  the  sceptical  philosophers,  which  lays  them  fairly  open 
to  such  attacks  as  this  of  Burke's.  They  take  it  for 
granted,  that  all  tjie  evils  which  exist,  are  effects  of  the 
peculiar  systems  under  which  they  exist.  They  deem  it 
sufiicient  to  point  out  evil  to  prove  the  necessity  of 
alteration,  forgetting  that  good  and  bad,  like  up  and  down, 
are,  practically  speaking,  only  terms  of  comparison,  and, 
that  it  is  idle  to  point  out  defects  in  a  system,  without  at 
the  same  time  furnishing  an  opportunity  of  comparing 
them  with  remedies ;  for  since  a  perfect  system  can  never 
be  made  without  perfect  materials,  it  behoves  the  objector 
to  shew  that  the  defect  is  in  the  construction,  and  not  in 
the  elemenu,  which  he  cannot  do,  unless  by  shewing 
how  a  different  construction  would  have  obviat^  tbe 
objection. 

In  a  rapid  and  masterly  sketch,  Burke  shews  that  political 
societies  have  seldom  been  employed  but  in  injuring  eadv 


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BURKE.  M7 

other^— that,  if  we  may  trust  history,  a  hasty^  partial  cnii* 
meratioa  of  the  nambers  who  have  lost  their  lives  in  pub- 
lic wars,  more  than  equals  the  whole  existing  population 
of  the  earth.  Turning  from  the  external  to  the  internal  po- 
lity of  governments,  he  shews  that  all  are  alike  wayward, 
Ignorant,  selfish,  and  tyrannical,  waging  an  eternal  war 
with  the  happiness  of  our  species.  From  all  which  he 
infers  that  we  have  done  wrong  in  forming  political  com- 
munities and  enacting  laws,  and  that  we  shoald  have  rested 
satisfied  with  the  simple  relations  of  natural  society. 

As  roust  be  expected,  the  picture  is  overcharged,  and 
sometimes  the  portrait  verges  upon  caricature;  yet  the 
author  has  shewn  great  art  in  avoiding  almost  all  exagge- 
rations but  what  naturally  resulted  from  the  nature  of  the 
attack. 

Soon  after  the  "  Vindication  of  Natural  Society,"  ap- 
peared the  celebrated  Essay  on  the  ^  Sublime  and  Beau- 
tiful.'' This  work  is  too  well  known  to  require  an  analysis 
of  the  system.  The  investigation  was  new,  and  though 
far  from  being  completely  successful,  has  at  least  furnished 
some  important  suggestions.  Johnson  considered  it  a 
model  of  philosophical  criticism : — ^*  We  have  (he  said) 
an  example  of  true  criticism  in  Burke's  Essay  on  the 
Sublime  and  Beautiful.  There  is  no  great  merit  in  shew- 
ing how  many  plays  have  ghosts  in  them,  or  how  this 
ghost  is  better  than  that,  you  must  shew  how  terror  is 
impressed  on  the  human  heart." 

The  publication  of  this  work  formed  a  distinguished 
epoch  in  fhe  life  of  Burke.  He  speedily  became  univer* 
sally  known  and  admired.  The  ignorant  and  superficial, 
from  the  subject,  believed  him  to  be  a  man  of  taste;  the 
learned  and  the  wise,  from  the  execution,  knew  him  to  be 
a  man  of  taste  and  profound  philosophy.  His  acquaint- 
ance was  immediately  courted  by  the  most  distinguished 
literary  characters.  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir  Joshua)  Reynolds 
and  Dr.  Johnson  were  among  the  first  who  formed  an  in- 
timate connection  with  him ;  and  the  latter  in  particular 


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«a  BURKBi 

was  so  charm^  «itb  ihegcaiut  mi  kaawledge  wbicb  be 
exiubkcdy  thav  ^t  a  vciy  eadly  per  ied  of  iheif  acf  vaiotmiea^ 
it  was  observed  by  Muipbyy  thai  Johnson)  would  firodn 
Srwrke  beaf  contradiotion,  which  hs  would  toltrtOe  tn  ha 
other  persoB.  Goldsaiith,  Popbam  Qeaaderc^  Sk  joha 
Hawkins,  aad  maay  others,  equally  diatinguished  for  Ua^ 
rature  and  elassical  acqairtwientSy  also  beoame  alcqaaiatad 
with  him  about  this  tine ;  and  of  these  was  formed  a 
literary  club,  which  comprehended  almost  att  the  t^ent 
and  genins  of  the  day.  But  the  principal  and  most  ios* 
mediate  advantage  derived  by  .Burke  from  this  puUJca* 
tko,  was  a  remitunce  of  lOOi.  which  his  father,  who  w«a 
enraptared  at  peruangthe  spirited  and  degaat  poodaoUoa 
of  his  SO&,  immediately  forwarded  to  him;  aad  which, 
with  the  sale  of  his  book,  relieved  him  from  some  very 
pressing  pecuniary  embarraMmenta. 

Id  17M  be  proposed  to  Dodsley  the  plan  of  aa  '^  Ao*^ 
MMd  Register''  of  the  civil,  political,  and  literary  traaa* 
actions  of  the  times;  a  work,  which,  if  conducted  oa 
liberal  and  impartial  principles,  must  be  allowed  to  have 
been  a  great  desideratam  in  history.  This  proposal  met 
with  Dodsky's  approbation,  aad  it  was  carried  into  effect; 
Borke  himself  superintending  the  publication,  and  6on« 
tributiDg  krgely  to  its  contents  for  many  years. 

He  had,  at  an  early  period  oi  bis  life,  been  connectad 
ifl  istimate  friendship  with  the  Right  Homonrable  William 
Gerard  Hamilton,  since  known  by  the  fantUiar  appellation 
of  ^^  Stngle^peech  Hamilton ;"  a  title  which  was  founded 
OB  a  general,  though  erroneous  idea,  that  Mr.  Hamilton 
bad  never  delivered  but  one  speech  of  any  importance  in 
the  British  senate ;  and  that  oae  so  jusdy  celebrated  aa  to 
give  rise  to  an  opinion,  which  was  strengthened  by.  the 
rniimacy  of  the  parties,  that  it  was  composed  for  him  by 
Mr.  Borke.  When  Mr.  Hamilton  went  over  to  Iteiaod 
as  official  secretary  to  Lord  Halifax,  than  lordJieutenant, 
he  pr<e vailed  upon  Burke  to  ^accompany  him.  Shortly 
after  his  arrival  there,  Mr.Haasilton  having  made  another 


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BURKE.  9S9 

cxceUeot  speech  in  the  Irish  Hoase  of  ComoMiis,  sad 
haYiDg  procured  for  Barke  a  pensioir  of  SOOL  a  year  oa 
tlie  Irish  ettablishmeoty  it  was  considered  by  many  as  a 
recompence  for  bis  assutanoe  in  their  compeaitioQ.  Tbi% 
however^  we  have reasoa  lo  beliere  was  nol  ibe  case;  the 
taleou  of  Hamilton  were  very  great,  and  fully  adequate 
to  the.  production  of  the  speeches  referred  to;  and  bis 
future  silence  in  the  senate  may  be  easily  aoooaated  for 
by  the  iadoleoee  of  that  gentleman,  whose  ample  fortune 
afforded  him  the  means  of  indulging  in  that  dissipatiosi  t^ 
which  he  was  so  ardently  at taobed.  His  biographer,  how* 
ever,  in  negativiag  the  above  rqKxrt,  does  not  famish  as 
with  any  ohie  to  guide  us  oot  of  the  labyrinth;  and  waavf 
ttill  at  a  loM  to  ascertain  to  what  peculiar  circumstances 
Bnrke  was  indebted  for  this  libera)  and  seasonable  supply,. 
That  it  was  not  altogether  owing  to  an  understood  or  avow* 
ed  agreement,  on  the  part  of  Burke^  tosnpport  the  measures 
of  his  friend  by  the  powerful  eflbru  of  his  geaius,  may  be 
Goliected  from  the  circumstance  of  his  never  bavtag  been 
known  as  the  author  of  a^y  political  publications  oa  tbat 
side  during  the  short  period  of  his  stay  in  Ireland*  Hf 
also  retained  the  pension  for  some  time  after  his  letnra  to 
England;  and  did  not  throw  it  up  until  be  bad  declared 
himself  an  avowed  adherent  to  the  party  in  oppositaoa  to 
that  in  which  Hamilton  ranked. 

An  anecdote  which  is  recorded  of  the  dissolution  of 
their  friendship,  principally,  we  suppose,  for  the  sake  of 
the  pun  which  it  contains,  is  totally  inconsistent  with  tbe 
fects  related  by  Dr.  Bissett.  In  a  dispute  wluob  arose  on 
some  politioal  question,  Hamilton  is  reported  to  have  t(4d 
Burke,  ^'  that  he  took  him  from  a  garret;'*  ^  Thei^  Sir,  by 
your  own  confession  it  was  I  tbat  dactndkd  lo  know  you,^ 
was  tbe  indignant  reply.  Bissett,  however,  sti^tes,  tbat 
though  no  intimate  connection  subsisted  between  these 
gentlemen  after  Burke's  return  from  Ireland,  yet  that  their 
friendsbip  was  never  entirely  dissolved,  a  circumstanca 
wbicb  muat  have  been  onavoidable,  bad  tbe  above  report 


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Z40  BURKE. 

been  true;  and  he  alleges,  in  coofirmation  of  this,  the 
aotbority  of  a  letter  written  by  Burke  to  Hamilton,  which 
he  had  seen,  and  in  which  the  former  gentleman  expostu- 
lates with  his  friend  on  his  indolence,  and  reminds  him, 
that  he  himself  had  a  growing  family  to  maintain,  and 
must  turn  his  talents  to  what  would  be  useful ;  and,  on  that 
account,  that  he  must  politically  associate  with  men  of 
more  active  exertions. 

On  his  return  to  England,  his  pecuniary  circumstances 
being  less  embarrassed,  and  himself  raised  above  want  by 
his  Irish  pension,  he  applied  himself  with  equal  ardour, 
and  increased  success,  to  the  study  of  politics.  Several 
pamphlets  which  he  published  about  this  time,  together 
with  some  occasional  disquisitions  in  the  Public  Adver- 
tiser, introduced  him  to  the  notice  of  Mr.  Fitzherbert, 
through  whose  friendly  medium  he  became  known  to  the 
Marquis  of  Rockingham  and  Lord  Yerney. 

Now  it  was  that  Burke  was  destined  to.shihe  in  his 
proper  colours,  as  a  distinguished  orator  and  enlightened 
sutesman.  The  administration,  over  which  Mr.  Grenville 
presided,  having  become  unpopular  to  the  nation  and 
unpieasing  to  the  court,  his  majesty,  in  1765,  appointed  a 
new  ministry,  composed  entirely  of  the  friends  and  political 
adherents  of  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham.  The  marquis 
became  first  lord  of  the  treasury,  and  Burke  was  appointed 
his  private  secretary;  a  dissolution  of  parliament  took 
place,  and  Burke  was  nominated  by  Lord  Verney  to  repre- 
sent the  borough  of  Wendover,  in  Somersetshire. 

Johnson  had  declared,  that  in  whatever  society  Burke 
were  placed,  he  would  become  the  first  man  in  it :  ^^  If  he 
were  to  go  into  the  stable,''  said  Johnson,  '^  and  talk  to  the 
ostlers,  for  five  minutes,  they  would  think  him  the  wisest 
man  they  ever  saw.'^  This  opinion  was  quickly  realised. 
The  high  expectations  which  his  party  had  formed  of 
his  genius  and  abilities  were  not  disappointed.  With  that 
ardour  of  mind  which  ever  prompted  him  to  shine,  he 
devoted  the  time  previous  to  the  meeting  of  parliament  to 


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BURKE.  ^1 

a  new  course  of  study.  For  tlie  purpose  of  storing  W* 
mind  with  facts,  reasonings,  imagery,  and  sentiments,  he 
applied  himself  with  unwearied  diligence  to  the  study  of 
history,  poetry,  and  philosophy.  His  biographer  alsa 
assures  us,  that  he  at  the  same  time  dived  deep  into  a 
study,  of  which  it  would  be  difficult  for  any  but  himself  to* 
perceive  the  utility,  that  of  the'Fathers,  and  the  scholastic 
disputations  of  the  middle  ages.  A  study  more  evidently 
useful,  but  which  to  the  elegant  mind  of  Burke  must  have 
been  almost  equally  unpleasing,  was  that  of  parliamentary 
usages,  pirecedents,  &c.  in  which  he  employed  a  great 
portion  of  his  time,  aware  in  how  great  a  degree  they  were 
essential  to  the  man  of  eminence  in  parliamentary  business. 
He  soon,  however,  felt  that  all  acquirements  would  be  of 
little  service,  unless  accompanied  by  an  easy  and  unern* 
barrassed  manner  of  communicating  them  to  others.  To 
obviate  this  difficulty,  and  accustom  himself  to  hear  his 
own  opinions  combated  and  to  oppose  those  of  others,  he 
for  some  time  frequented  the  Robin  Hood  Society;  a 
debating  club  at  that  time  in  high  reputation,  and  which 
has  produced  many  men  of  distinguished  oratorical  powers. 
l^y  this  course  of  studies  and  exertions,  continued  for 
some  months,  he  qualified  himself  for  delivering  at  the 
opening  of  the  ensuing  session,  a  maiden  speech,  which 
excited  the  admiration  of  the  house,  and  elicited  the 
warmest  praises  from  the  great  Mr.  Pitt. 

The  influence  which  introduced  Burke  into  the  house 
of  commons,  had  no  doubt  considerable  weight  in  deter- 
mining his  parliamentary  conduct.  This  will  probably  not 
be  regarded  as  a  harsh  assertion,  when  we  consider  the 
comprehensiveness  of  his  mind  and  the  soundness  of  his 
judgment,  and  reflect  on  the  measures  which  he  advocated 
in  his  first  parliamentary  essay.  The  object  of  primary 
importance,  when  the  Rockingham  administration  suc- 
ceeded to  power,  was  America;  and  Burke,  with  the  rest 
of  that  party,  advised  and  strongly  contended  for  measures 
which  certainly,  in  whatever  light  we  consider  them,  give 

VOL.  1.  E 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


tit  Dp  tery  great  id^  of  fh^  politiqrf  eftoiency  of  th^if 
atitborji.  Th^  intisDtion  was  tp  jconcUiate  the  ^^nericanf 
by  9  repeal  of  the  ^tamp  &ct;  bpt  at  the  same  time  tp 
save  the  honour  of  the  mother  country,  by  pressing  an  a^jt 
declaratory  of  the  right  of  the  Pfitish  parl^meot  tp  tax 
the  coIoQies.  Witb  r^ereoce,  however,  to  subjects  of 
domestic  poVcy,  this  adipiQJstratiop  actied  with  greater 
pnulefs^oe  and  better  success.  The  repeal  of  the  cyder  act, 
a  law  which  invested  with  an  unjiist  lapd  almost  arbitrary 
power,  the  officers  pf  the  excise,  gave  universal  satis&o- 
tion.  Resplutions  were  passed,  declaring  the  illegality  of 
geaeral  warrants  apd  the  seizure  of  papers,  circumstaQceg 
which  had  expited  so  much  dissatisfaction  in  the  affair  of 
Wilkes;  and  i^aoy  excellent  commprcial  regulations  were 
carried  into  effect.  But  the  consequences  which  must  result 
from  their  m^pres,  with  respect  to  America,  were  so  evi- 
imty  and  perhaps  too  the  secret  ipflueoce  which  afterwards 
removed  the  Earl  of  Chathaoi,  was  so  strong,  that  th^y 
wer^  quickly  dismissed  from  officp  ^o  make  room  for  a 
i^w  administratipn  under  the  auspipes  of  Pitt,  creatpd  for 
that  purpose  Earl  of  Chatham,  and  lord  privy  seal. 

In  this  brief  sketch  of  the  8ho/t4ive(l  Rockin^hpui 
administration  we  have  scarcely  mentioned  Burke,  as  his 
public  life  was  identified  with  the  history  pf  the  party 
which  he  supported-  On  its  dismissali  he  published  ^^  A 
short  Defence  of  the  late  short-lived  Administration ;''  in 
which  be  advocated  their  measures  with  great  plausibility, 
and  ip  a  style  essjentially  different  from  that  pf  any  of  his 
other  productions.  It  bears  the  semblance  of  having  beei| 
pomposfd  by  a  m.an  of  consummate  plainness  and  simpii'* 
city,  and  was  therefore  more  adapted  for  makin|;  converts 
than  the  most  elaborate  and  highly  ^finished  production, 
which  would  rather  have  been  re|;arded  with  suspicion,  ^^ 
the  pleadings  of  ap  ingenious  apd  artful  advocate.  He 
soon  after  published  an  ironical  answer  to  this  defenc<^ 
purporting  to  be  written  by  a  tallow-chapdler  apd  cpmpapp* 
cpuncil  miap,  in  whicb  hp  attapkoi  I^rd  Chpthapi  9pd  t(ip 


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BURKE.  €4S 

ttew mmifltrj  with  great iMiiiK>iur,  mingledl  with  thekceneat 
kony.  Whatever  may  faa^e  been  the  inerits  or  demeiits 
of  ihe  RockinghaminiQistryf  they  oertaioly  deserve  high 
commeodaAioQs  for  the  tibecal  manner  in  which  -tbej 
retired  from  their  offices.  Not  one  of  them  retained  either 
place,  pension,  or  leversion  for  themselves  or  their  friends* 
A  piece  of  djsintereatedoess  which  mast  have  been  to- 
▼endy  fek  by  Bnrke,  from  the  nanrowness  of  bis  private 
fortune. 

In  July  1766,  Mr.  Burke  being  once  inore  free  from  all 
restraint,  revisited  his  native  land,  endeared  to  him  by  long 
abseooe,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  friends  of  his  earlier 
years,  with  many  of  whom  he  renewed  his  acquaintance. 
Towards  the  close  of  the  year  he  returoed  to  England, 
where  a  strong  opposition  had  been  organised  against  the 
measures  of  the  new  administration.  In  this  Burke  took 
an  active  part,  and  soon  distinguished  himself  as  the  heai 
of  the  Rockingham  party,  m  which,  although  supported 
by  men  of  powerful  talents,  Dowdeswell,  Cooosellor  Duo^ 
ning,  and  Colonel  Barr6,  Burke  always  claimed  prt-emi- 
tience.  His  speeches  shone  with  a  warmth  of  imaginatioa 
united  to  a  high  de^ee  of  political  knowledge,  which  the 
otbert  could  never  attain.  The  opinion  which  .Burke 
drtertained  of  this  ministry,  which  is  commonly  known  by 
the  Grafton  administration,  is  thus  hnmorocisly  described 
by  himself.  After  paying  many  merited  enlogiums  to  the 
character  of  Lord  Chatham,  he  claims  the  privilege  of  his- 
tory to  speak  of  the  administration  he  had  formed,  and  thus 
proceeds:— -'He  ipade  an  administration  so  checqnered 
and  speckled ;  he  put  together  a  piece  of  joining,  so  crosdy 
indented  and  whimsically  dove-tailed;  a  cabinet  so  ra* 
rionsly  inlaid;  such  a  piece  of  diversified  Mosaic;  «nch  a 
tessellated  paremeot  without  cement;  here  a  bit  <^  black 
Stone,and  there  a  bit  of  white  ;,patriots  and  courtiers;  king^ 
friends  and  repablicans;  Whigs  and  Tories;  treacbefous 
firiaids  spd  open  enemies ;  that  it  was  indeed  a  veiy 
<Mmotts  show,  bat  nttefly  unsafe  to  tonch>  «ul  (msnre  to 


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£44  BURKE. 

stand  upon.  The  colleagues,  whom  he  had  assorted  at 
the  same  boards,  stared  at  each  other,  and  were  obliged  to 
ask,  *Sir,  your  name? — Sir,  you  have  the  advantage  of 
me — Mr.  Such-a-one — Sir,  1  beg  ten  thousand  pardons.*— 
I  venture  to  say,  it  did  so  happen,  that  persons  had  a 
single  office  divided  between  them,  who  had  never  spoken 
to  each  other  in  their  lives,  until  they  found  themselves, 
they  knew  not  how,  heads  and  points,  in  the  same  truckle- 
bed." 

An  administration,  composed  of  materials  so  discordant, 
could  not  long  remain  united.  The  secret  influence  of 
the  princess  dowager  was  unceasingly  employed  in  scatter* 
ing  dissensions  among  the  ministry,  and  in  counteracting 
the  patriotic  designs  of  Lord  Chatham.  Wearied  with 
unavailing  attempts  to  carry  into  effect  the  extensive  plans 
which  he  had  meditated  for  the  good  of  his  country,  and 
finding  it  no  longer  in  his  power  to  oppose  the  cabal 
which  had  been  formed  in  tlie  cabinet  against  him,  this 
great  and  patriotic  statesman  at  length  retired  in  disgust, 
under  the  united  pressure  of  age  and  ill*health.  He  felt 
that  he  bad  no  longer  the  power  to  oppose  with  effect 
those  ruinous  measures  into  which  the  country  was>  about 
to  be  precipitated,  and  he  resolved  not  to  give  even  a  tacit 
consent  to  them,  by  retaining  an  office  of  which  the  power 
had  passed  away  from  him. 

On  the  resignation  of  Lord  Chatham,  the  parliament 
was  dissolved,  and  Burke  was  again  returned  for  the  bo- 
rough of  Wendover.  The  new  parliament,  which  met  in 
November  1768,  is  famous  for  the  proceedings  which 
took  place  in  the  memorable  affair  of  Wilkes,  and  which 
are  so  well  known  as  to  render  a  repetition  of  them 
useless.  Burke,  on  this  occasion,  took  a  high  and  consti- 
tutional ground,  strenuously  contending  that  an  act  of 
parliament  alone  could  disqualify  any  person  from  sitting 
in  the  house  of  commons,  who  had  been  fairly  elected  by 
a  majority  of  votes  to  a  vacant  seat.  This  principle, 
though  then  rejected,  was,  in  an  ensuing  parliament, 


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BURKE.  245 

ftcknowledgedy  the  reaolution  for  inserting  the  name  of 
Lottrdl  in  the  returned  writ,  instead  of  that  of  Wilkes, 
being  rescinded  by  order  of  the  house.  This  and  other 
events  which  occurred  about  the  same  time,  gave  rise  to 
those  celebrated  letters  inserted  in  the  Public  Advertiser, 
under  the  signature  of  Junius.  These  letters  have  fre- 
quently been  attributed  to  Burke,  but  on  very  insufficient 
grounds:  he  declared  to  Johnson  that  he  was  not  the 
author  of  them;  and  the  internal  evidence  of  style,  toge« 
ther  with  the  very  different  political  opinions  of  Burke 
and  Junius,  prove  their  characters  to  have  been  entirely 
distinct. 

Nor  did  Burke  on  this  important  occasion  confine  him- 
self to  the  many  excellent  speeches  which  he  made  in  the 
house.  He  drew  up  a  petition  to  the  king,  from  the  free- 
holders of  Buckinghamshire  (at  Beaconsfield,  in  which 
county  he  had  now  purchased  a  house),  complaining  of  the 
conduct  of  the  house  of  commons  in  the  expulsion  of 
Wilkes,  and  praying  for  a  dissolution  of  parliament. 
Indeed  so  unpopular  at  this  time  was  the  Grafton  ministry, 
that  their  continuance  in  office  was  principally,  if  not 
solely,  owing  to  the  divisions  among  their  antagonists* 
The  opposition  was  composed  of  two  parties,  at  the  head 
of  which  were  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham  and  Mr.Gren- 
ville,  which  agreed  on  no  other  point  than  to  harass  the 
ministry.  Mr.  Grenville,  about  this  time,  published  an 
Essay  on  **  The  present  State  of  the  Nation ;"  to  which 
Burke  wrote  an  answer,  under  the  title  of  **  Observations 
on  the  present  State  of  the  Nation."  Grenville's  principal 
object  was  to  prove  that  the  nation  was  about  to  be  ruined 
by  a  deviation  from  those  principles  on  which  he  acted 
during  his  administration,  and  that  America  was  very  well 
able  to  pay  a  certain  proportion  of  taxes  towards  the  sup- 
port of  the  state.  In  bis  "  Observations"  on  this  pamphlet, 
Burke,  with  great  perspicuity,  follows  Grenville  through 
all  his  details,  and  proves  the  insufficiency  and  inaccuracy 
of  his  arguments  and  calculations: — ^'Grenville,"  said 


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m6  BURKB. 

Bork^  ^'  ia  tfatiaiied  to  repeat  gravely,  at  he  hat  done  a 
Jiandred  ttmes  before,  tbat  the  Afnericans  are  able  to  ^y, 
but  does  he  lay  open  any  part  of  his  phn  how  they  ma^ 
be  compelled  to  pay  it,  without  plunging  ourselves  into 
oakmities  which  outweigh  ten  times  the  proposed  benefiti* 
H^  attaek^  the  Grenville  administration  with  severity  and 
justice,  he  ddends  that  of  Rockingham  with  ingenuity, 
and  ridtcnles,  with  the  nofost  sarcastic  remarks,  the  coflfdtfct 
of  their  successors. 

The  effects  of  the  new  system  of  taxation  on  the  imports 
t(  Ndrth  America,  Which  had  been  introduced  at  the 
recommendation  of  Mr.  Charles  Townsend,  and  whieh 
bad  principally  occasioned  the  retirement  of  Chatham, 
BOW  became  obvious.  The  disturbances  now  assumed  A 
more  threatening  aspect,  and  afforded  Burke  a  capaciotrs 
Iteld  for  the  display  of  those  splendid  talents  with  which 
he  Was  endowed.  For  the  purpose  of  intimidating  thd 
Americans,  it  wasr  proposed  to  revive  an  obsolete  law,  by 
Which  the  king  was  empowered  to  appoint  a  commission 
in  England,  for  the  trial  of  treason  committed  beyond  seas. 
A  law  at  once  so  unjast  and  so  impolitic,  met  with  the  most 
strenuous  opposition  of  Burke.  This,  however,  was  una- 
vililing,  and  its  immediate  effects  were  such  as  he  bad 
predicted ; — it  exasperated  the  Americans,  without  causing 
th#  least  obstruction  to  their  measures. 

While  these  extraordinary  measures  of  colonial  policy 
were  carried  into  effect,  the  proceedings  in*  the  case  of 
Wilkes,  had  raised  so  gfeat  a  ferment  throughout  the 
whole  of  England,  as  to  cause  the  most  insulting,  and  im- 
perious remonstrances  to  be  drawn  up  and  presented  to 
the  king,  particuliirly  one  from  the  livery  of  London, 
which  assumed  a  tone  nearly  approximating  to  that  of 
licentious  abuse.  On  this  occasion  Burke  published 
*' Thoughts  on  the  Causes  of  the  present  Discontents;'* 
tbcf  principal  object  of  which  is,  to  recommend  the  forma- 
tion of  an  open  aristocracy,  consisting  of  men  of  talents, 
lank,  property,  ^nd  independence.    Such  an  aristocracy, 


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BURtCB.  iif 

be  cbnctiy^i,  having  a  greater  iat^l-^st  in  die  welfiire  of 
ih6  tbUHttf,  ^i\\  h6  ittofe  Itkdy  to  pfoifiot^  it,  than  eiAi6t 
ihe  (>e6p1^  tbemsfelv^  on  ih€  ond  bmid,  or  tlie  6iinion<  6t 
a  ctiixti  on  tb^  other.    TbifT,  id  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Bissett, 
taky  be  tegjktdtd  at  it  iMi-inA^k  of  Bnrke't  own  doctrine^ 
f^pectibg  the  British  goyermnent ;  and  from  this  he  coti-^ 
6eiyes  biftttelf  qdalifled  to  prove,  tbat  the  tentiorent^ 
4vdwed  by  hini  at  thi^  time'.  Were  those  which  be  continued 
ib  act  tipon  dorhlg  the  whole  Of  bis  lift.  We,  however,  c^ti- 
6ot  implieitly  subscribe  tb  this  doctribe;  tht  design  of  th^ 
pamphlet  id  question  is  evidently  to  procure  the  re-esta* 
btisbmlent  of  the  Rockingham  party  in  power,  ahd,  vieweci 
in  that  light,  it  v^  ^  modt  irtgetiioos  party  performance.  As  a 
generdA  iys^tetn  of  government  it  might  perhaps  be  reckoned 
Itmotigst  the  most  visionary  theories  oh  that  subject  whicb 
have  ever  appeared;   4n  aifistocracy  so  formed,  would  ' 
Quickly  degenerate  idto  an  oligarchy,  (indeed,  in  its  best 
and  most  perfect  form,  it  would  be  litttle  else  than  a  masked 
oligarchy,)  and  the  consequences  to  the  public  welfare 
Would  be  more  deleterious  and  destructive  than  even  the 
pure  and  unmixed  power,  either  of  a  monarchy,  or  a 
democracy. 

On  the  resignation  of  the  Duke  of  Grafton  in  1^70, 
akid  the  promotion  of  Lord  North  to  a  high  and  efficient 
situation  in  the  cabinet,  Burke  uniformly  opposed  the 
measures  brought  forward  by  that  minister,  particularly 
those  which  affected  the  dispute  with  America.  The  dis- 
dOntedts  and  disturbances  elicited  by  the  laws,  enforced 
by  the  late  administration.  Were  too  evident  nbt  to  be  per* 
chived,  and  too  extensive  not  to  be  dreaded;  yet  the  preci- 
pitation with  which  those  measures  had  been  enacted,  left 
n6  medium  fot  the  n^inister  to  pursue.  To  remove  ^t 
once  the  causes  of  discontent  by  repealing  the  obnoxious 
acts,  was  to  acknowledge  th6  incapacity  of  the  British 
government  to  enforce  obedience  to  them ;  and,  on  th^ 
Other  band,  to  continue  them,  and  to  compel  their  eiCecu- 
li6D,  Was  to  plunge  the  nation  into  aii  exp^iftive  add 


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^8  BURKE* 

destructive  war.  Id  these  distressing  circumstaDces^  Lord 
North  was  aoi^ious  to  attain  a  mediam  where  none  could 
exist;  he  proposed  to  repeal  all  the  obnoxious  laws  of 
the  preceding  administration,  with  the  exception  of  <chat 
which  imposed  a  duty  on  tea,  in  itself  of  no  importance^ 
but  which  he  conceived  it  advisable  to  retain,  as  a  mark 
of  the  authority  of  parliament  over  the  colonies.  This 
measure  was  evidently  impolitic  in  the  extreme,  as  it 
evinced  the  weakness  of  the  government  without  removing 
the  cause  of  the  dispute.  The  opposition  of  the  Americans 
was  not  to  the  amount  of  taxation,  but  to  the  principle, 
which  was  equally  established  by  the  most  trifling  tax,  as 
by  the  most  oppressive  and  degrading  impositions.  This 
measure,  evidently  founded  on  the  same  mistaken  policy, 
and  emanating  from  the  same  principles  with  that  which 
M  r.  Burke  had  so  strongly  advocated  on  his  first  appearance 
in  the  house  of  commons,  was  on  this  occasion  opposed 
by  that  gentleman  with  the  keenest  force  of  his  ridicule: 
"  Lord  North's  scheme,"  he  said,  "  was  a  heterogeneous 
mixture  of  concession  and  coercion ;  of  concession  not  tend- 
ing to  conciliate,  and  of  coercion  that  could  not  be  carried 
into  execution  ;  at  once  exciting  hatred  for  the  intention, 
and  contempt  for  the  weakness.  Thus,  the  malignity  of 
your  will  is.  abhorred,  and  the  debility  of  your  power  is 
contemned  ;  and  parliament,  which  you  persuade  to  sanc- 
tion your  follies,  is  exposed  to  dishonour." 

To  account  for  this  apparently  extraordinary  change  of 
sentiment.  Dr.  Bisset  observes  with  much  metaphysical 
subtilty  of  reasoning,  that  ^'  as  Burke's  great  genius  was 
moire  and  more  matured  by  experience,  he  became,  in 
estimating  plans  for  the  conduct  of  affairs,  less  and  less 
attentive  to  questions  of  abstraction;"  and  pursues  his 
argument  until  he  arrives  at  the  conclusion  that  '^abstract 
competency  should  be  regarded  as  subservient  to  moral 
competency."  "  The  Americans,"  says  Bisset,  reasoning 
for  Burke,  "  have  been  very  serviceable  to  Britain  under 
the  old  system  ;  do  not  therefore,  let  us  rashly  seek  a  new.^^  , 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


.  BURKE.  £49 

Our  commercial  interests  have  been  hitherto  very  greatly 
promoted  by  our  friendly  intercourse  with  the  colonies ^ 
do  not  let  us  endanger  possession  for. contingency;  do  not 
let  OS  substitute  untried  theories  for  a  system  experimen- 
tally ascertained  to  be  useful," 

"  Whatever  opinion  Burke/'  said  his  old  friend  Gerard 
Hamilton,  ''from  any  motive,  supports,  so  ductile  is  bis 
imagination,  that  he  soon  conceives  it  to  be  right.''  Burke 
was  more  accustomed  to  philosophise  on  certain  qqestions 
than  is  usually  supposed  ;  and  by  revolving  the  question 
in  every  possible  light,  it  is  conceived  that  his  mind  was 
often  as  full  of  .arguments  on  one  side  as  on  the  other; 
hence  it  is,  that  men  of  quite  opposite  opinions  have  been 
equally  desirous  to  quote  his  authority ;  and  that  there 
are  in  his  works,  passages  that  may  be  triumphantly 
brought  forward  by  almost  any  party. 

In  the  summer  of  1772  he  paid  a  visit  to  France,  where 
his  high  reputation  made  his  society  courted  by  the  most 
distinguished  politicians  and  philosophers  of  the  day. 
The  hasty  strides  which  republicanism  and  infidelity  were 
making  in  that  country  were  obvious  to  the  eye  of  Bnrke; 
which  is  the  less  surprising,  when  we  remember  that  they 
were  observed  about  the  same  time  by  a  man  of  much  less 
discernment  and  no  religion,  the  late  Horace  Walpole, 
Lord  Orford.  So  deeply,  however,  was  the  mind  of 
Burke  impressed  with  the  dreadful  effects  which  he  appre- 
hended from  their  united  force,  that,  on  his  return  to 
England,  he  could  not  avoid,  in  a  speech  in  the  house  of 
commons,  adverting  to  them  as  objects  worthy  of  no  com- 
mon dread.  He  professed  that  he  was  not  over-fond  of 
calling  in  the  aid  of  the  secular  arm  to  suppress  doctrines 
and  opinions ;  but  if  ever  it  was  to  be  raised,  it  should  be 
against  those  enemies  of  their  kind,  who  would  take  from 
us  the  noblest  prerogative  of  our  nature, — that  of  being  a 
religious  animal.  And  be  concluded  by  recommending, 
that  a  grand  alliance  should  be  formed  among  all  believers, 
**  against  those  ministers  of  rebellious  darkness,  who  were 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


Mdeatouri^g  to  %hAe  all  the  ^birfes  of  Ood,  establidied  id 
be&uty  and  ordet.'^  In  tbe  c6tir^  of  the  saltkie  session,  oa 
a  tnotibn  by  9rr  Heory  Houghton  for  the  relief  of  di^ 
Milters,  he  expressed  in  iftrong  term'sl,  his  opiniot]  of  th^ 
disqualifications  under  which  thefjr  laboured)  idling  tb^ 
iokration  which  they  enjoyed  by  connivan^e^  '^  at  teknpo- 
raiy  relaxatien  of  slavery  ;**  a  sort  of  Kberty ''  not  calculated 
for  the  meridian  of  England.'' 

Ota  the  dissolution  of  parliament  in  iii4f,  he  w^  re- 
Mviiedy  through  the  influence  of  die  Marquis  of  Rodcing* 
tota^  for  the  borough  of  Malton^  in  Yorkshire;  btit  when 
dtt  iht  (Mrint  of  sitting  dowti  to  dinner  with  bis  friends  i^ 
f^t  town,  after  the  election,  a  deputation  of  iliercbanti 
arrived  from  Brbtol  to  request  bitn  to  stand  for  thai  city. 
B^  the  advice  of  his  constituents  at  Malton,  he  con* 
sented  to  accompany  theitf,  tod  throwing  himself  into  a 
Iplbsrt-ebaise,  prdceeded  with  all  possible  expedition  to 
Bi^istd.  A  large  body  of  the  prhicipd  merchanU  of  that 
dty,  eohsisting  chiefly  of  dissenters,  had  beheld  with 
admiration  his  splendid  talents,  and  considering  him  a 
firm  friend  to  the  cause  of  civil  ahd  rdigious  liberty, 
Atood  forward  in  bis  behaMl  The  old  membcfi^  for  that 
eity  were  already  opposed  by  Mr.  Cruger ;  and  on  Burke's 
appearance  on  the  hxrstings,  which  il^as  not  until  the  sixtli 
day  of  the  deetion/  be  delivered- a  most  eloquent  speech, 
in  which,  by  his  itttimate  acquaintance  with  the  advantages 
ahd  principles  6f  eoibmerce,  and  the  local  interests  of 
Bristol,  be  produced  so  deep  iln  iihpression  on  the  minds 
of  the  electors,  as  to  ensure  his  final  success.  He  was 
iietumed  for  that  city  in  conjundtioh  with  Mr.  Cruger;  a 
gentleman,  who,  it  would  seeifa,  possessed  no  great  share 
of  that  eloqoebce  which  so  emmently  distinguished  his 
colleague,  ft  is  even  reported,  that  after  Burke  bad 
ddivered  one  of  his  best  speeches,  at  Bristbl,  Cruger  rose 
up,  and  excldhkied,  **  I  say  ditto  to  Mr.  BUrke — I  say  diUo 
to  Mr.  Burke/' 

The  meeting  df  thfe  hew  pariiati^ent  displayed  a  greater 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC      , 


BURKE.  «1 

ftsaemblage  of  taleots  than  had  perhaps  eTer  appeHred  id 
Any  age  or  country.  Fox  had  long  been  a  member  of  th^ 
hoQBe  of  commons,  bat  had  tttvtr  hitherto  distinguished 
himself  for  oratorical  abilities  dr  poliCrcdl  efficiency* 
Stimulated  to  exertion  by  the  hnhefto  unrivalled  elo- 
quence and  powers  of  Burke,  he  now  comfmenced  tluft 
glorious  career  in  which  he  persevered  until  his  decease; 
and  Vox  and  Burke  were  not  crnly  regarded  with  adoH- 
ration  by  the  opposition,  of  which  they  were  the  un- 
daunted champions  and  supporter*,  But  ware  viewed  by 
the  minfister  and  his  adherents  with  mingled  admi^atioil 
and  dread.  The  pditical  dottneciioti  now  formed  b^tweett 
these  two  great  men  soon  led  to  an  intimate  friendship, 
which  cominued  to  unite  them  both  in  public  sltid  private 
life  for  many  years. 

The  mistaken  measures  of  the  atdmlnistration  bad  tfow 
driven  the  Americans  (o  the  necessity  of  taking  up  armi 
iti  defence  of  their  civil  rights.  The  struggle  was  long 
and  arduous.  On  the  one  hand,  an  extensive  and  fertile 
country,  firmly  united  in  the  support  of  their  rights;  on 
the  other,  a  nation  so  divided  within  itself  that  a  majority 
perhaps  of  its  inhabitants  rejoiced  in  the  successes  of 
those  whom  the  government  would  have  taught  them  to 
regard  as  enemies.  During  the  whole  of  the  conteflt> 
Burke  uniformly  and  ardently  opposed  the  measures  of 
Lord  North,  and  defended  and  encouraged  the  Americani 
in  the  pursuit  of  those  privileges  for  which  th^y  fought ; 
ft  conduct  which,  notv^ithstanding  the  endeavours  6f  hii 
biographers  to  establish  d  thorough  Con^stefacy  through^ 
out  the  whole  of  bis  political  life,  we  cdn  by  no  means 
reconcile  witb  that  which  he  afterwards*  pursued'  when 
France  was  engaged  in  a  similar  contest.  In  the  coursi^ 
of  this  war  he  delivered  many  brilliant  speeches  whrch 
are  convincing  evidences  of  the  vast  extent  of  his  genius, 
and  the  great  superiority  of  his  eloquence. 

Dodng  the  summer  of  1776,  Burke,  together  with 
several  other  leaders  of  opposition,  took  the  extraordinary. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


252  BURKE. 

though  not  uoprecedeDted  step,  of  seceding  from  parlia- 
ment, and  retiring  from  the  house^  whenever  any  question 
relative  to  America  was  brought  into  discussion.  Wcf 
cannot  conceive  him  justified  in  this  conduct,  notwith* 
standing  the  arguments  adduced  in  his  **  Letter  to  the 
Sheriffs  of  Bristol ;"  and  it  was  the  opinion  of  the  oppo- 
sition at  large,  that  such  measures  should  not  be  persisted 
in.  Burke  himself  observed,  on  another  occasion,  that 
'^  Eloquence,  though  it  might  not  procure  a  majority  to 
members  of  opposition,  was  not  without  its  effect,  in 
modifying  measures  of  ministry."  In  the  succeeding 
session  he  returned  with  great  vigour  to  his  parliamentary 
duty,  and  became  again  a  most  active  partisan  of  the 
opposition, and  indefatigable  in  seizing  every  opportunity 
of  harassing  and  distressing  the  ministry. 

On  his  election  for  Bristol  in  1774  he  had  openly  de- 
clared himself  against  the  popular  doctrine,  that  the 
members  of  the  house  of  commons,  being  the  organ  of 
the  people,  should,  on  all  occasions,  vote  in  concurrence 
with  the  sentiments,  and  in  obedience  to  the  instructions 
of  their  constituenu.  These  sentiments  he  carried  into 
execution,  particularly  in  supporting  the  bill  for  relieving 
the  trade  of  Ireland  from  many  oppressive  restrictions 
under  which  it  then  laboured  ;  on  which  occasion  he  had 
received  instructions  from  his  constituents  to  oppose  it. 
His  exertions  in  favour  of  Sir  George  Saville's  motion,  for 
relieving  the  Catholics  from  certain  penalties  to  which 
they  were  subject,  were  also  disapproved  of  by  the  citizens 
of  Bristol.  On  these  and  other  occasions,  he  had  acted 
in  so  direct  an  opposition  to  their  declared  opinions,  that, 
when  he  presented  himself  a  second  time  as  a  candidate 
for  Bristol,  at  the  general  election  in  1780,  he  was  com- 
pelled, after  an  unsuccessful  canvass,  to  decline  the  con- 
test; which  he  did  in  a  speech  replete  with  his  usual 
eloquence.  In  consequence  of  this  disappointment,  he 
took  his  seat  in  the  new  parliament  for  the  borough  of 
Malton. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


BURKE.  65S 

The  first  session  of  the  new  parliament^  which  was  dis* 
tinguished  by  the  accession  of  Pitt  and  Sheridan  to  the 
opposition^  presented  a  scene  similar  to  that  of  many  pre- 
ceding years.  The  ministry^  supported  by  their  numbers, 
continued  to  resist  with  efiect,  the  attacks  oftheoppo-* 
sition,  which  were  energetic,  and  supported  by  a  com- 
bination of  talents  never  equalled.  This  assertion  will  not 
be  regarded  as  an  exaggeration,  when  we  refer  to  the  last 
effort  of  the  opposition  in  the  session  of  1781.  A  motion 
by  Foi,  for  the  house  to  resolve  itself  into  a  committee, 
to  consider  of  the  American  war,  was  supported  by  She* 
ridan,  by  Dunning,  by  Pitt,  by  Burke,  and  by  Fox. 

The  ensuing  session  was  very  different  in  its  history 
and  in  its  results.  The  long  continuance  of  the  war  with 
America  had  so  completely  shaken  the  confidence  of  the 
country  members  in  the  wisdom  of  the  ministers,  that 
hopes  were  entertained  by  the  opposition,  that  a  reiterated 
and  well  conducted  series  of  attacks  might  finally  ensure 
success.  The  contest  was  commenced  by  a  resolution, 
moved  by  Mr.  Fox,  on  February  7,  1 782,  accusing  Lord 
Sandwich^  then  at  the  head  of  the  Admiralty,  of  gross  mis* 
managiement  in  the  conduct  of  naval  affairs.  The  spaall 
majority  by  which  this  motion  was  negatived,  encouraged 
them  to  proceed  in  their  plan ;  and,  several  motions  hav- 
ing been  decided  against  them  by  a  diminishing  majority, 
on  the  8th  of  March,  Lord  John  Cavendish  moved  certain 
resolutions,  recapitulating  the  failures,  the  misconduct, 
and  the  expenses  of  the  war.  These  resolutions  were  met 
by  a  motion  for  the  order  of  the  day,  and  were  lost  by  a 
majority  of  only  ten. 

This  defection  on  the  side  of  the  administration  gave 
heart  to  the  minority,  and  they  rallied  with  redoubled 
force  and  spiriu  on  the  16th  of  March,  when  a  motion  of 
Sir  John  Rous,  ^^  That  the  house  could  have  no  further 
confidence  in  the  ministers,  who  had  the  direction  of  pub- 
lic affairs,"  was  negatived  only  by  a  majority  of  nine. 
The  minority  followed  their  fortune,  and,  on  the  21st  of 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


$9i  BURKE. 

the  same  opyi^ath  (the  hoase  being  oacommonly  croiided) 
tbe  Earl  of  Surrey  (late  Duke  bf  Norfolk)  rose  to  make 
bi«  promised  piotioo,  when  Lord  North  spoke  to  order, 
saying,  '^  H^  n^e^nt  no  disrespect  to  the  noble  earl ;  but, 
as  notice  had  been  given,  that  the  object  of  ^be  intended 
laotion  was  the  removal  of  his  majesty's  mLni^te^s,  he 
meant  to  have  acquainted  the  bouse  that  sucb  a  motion 
was  unnecessary,  as  he  could  assure  the  house,  on  au* 
thority,— that  the  present  administration  was  no  more) 
find  that  his  majesty  had  come  to  a  full  determination  of 
changing  his  ministers;  and,  for  the  purpose  of  giving  thf 
necessary  time  for  new  arrangements,  he  moved  an  adr 
journment;,"  which  was  instantly  adopted. 

During  this  adjournment,  a  new  administration  was 
formed,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Marquis  of  Rocking- 
ham, on  wbose  public  principles  and  private  virtpes  the 
nation  seemed  to  repose,  after  the  violent  struggle  by 
which  it  had  been  agitated,  with  the  securest  and  mos^ 
implicit  confidence.  The  Marquis  of  Rockingham  was 
appointed  first  lord  of  the  treasury,  the  Earl  of  Shelburoe 
and  Mr.  Fox,  joint-secretaries  of  state,  Lord  Omden  prer 
sideot  of  the  council,  Duke  of  Grafton  privy  seal.  Lord 
John  Ovendish  chancellor  of  the  exchequer,  and  Mr> 
Burke  paymaster-general  of  the  forces. 

The  new  ministry,  which  stood  pledged  to  the  people 
for  many  reforms,  began  immediately  to  put  them  into 
execution.  The  first  object  of  their  attention  was  the 
affairs  of  Ireland.  A  bill  was  passed  through  both  houses, 
which,  by  repealing  the  act  of  the  6th  George  L  rendered 
the  parliament  of  Ireland  independent  of  that  of  Great 
Britain.  This  was  coupled  with  a  resolution,  '^Tbat  it 
was  essentially  necessary  to  the  mutual  happiness  of  the 
two  countries,  that  a  firm  and  solid  connection  should  be 
forthwith  established  by  the  consent  of  .both;  and. that 
his  majesty  should  be  requested  to  give  the  proper  direc«- 
tions  for  prompting  ihe  same/' 

Ob  the  '5tb  of  April,  Burke  .  brought  'forw^d  bb  great 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ap4  f^t9P^^^  plii9  Af  retf ^Qcl^neot  in  tljie  expenditore^f 
tjifs  ciyil  Ih^  by  wbic;h  jthe  ^npual  »av|iigp  (aod  whii:l^ 
i9ro|il<jl  Ve  yearly  iporeftsiog)  would  amovnt  to  72,36§/* 
Ijt  ws^  QJbjecUd  by  spme  ipfiembers;  that  jthe  bill  wa^  ^9^; 
ao  ^xjtei^iiye  ^  it  bad  been  originally  fr^mied;  bjat  Mr. 
9urke  entered  into  the  groupd^  of  those  omissionsi  wbicl^ 
had  bejen  ma^e  either  frop  a  coip^pliance  with  the  opiniona 
of  others,  o^  firofn  a  fuMejc  consideration  of  the  particular 
ciases ;  At  the  sao^e  ,time  he  pledged  himself^  that  he  should 
at  all  times  he  re^dy  to  obey  their  call,  whenever  it 
appei^red  to  be  the  geojeral  opinion  pf  the  house  and  pf 
tbe  people,  to  prosecute  a  mor^  co^iplete  system  pf 
nefopp.  A  bill  was  also  passed,  dLsq\:|alifying  revenue 
giSiGers  froip  voting  in  th^  elections  for  members  of  piur- ' 
liamept;  $nd  several  other  popular  propositions  were  mn/h 
aofi  fulopted. 

Xbe  death  of  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham,  which  took 
plac^  qn  July  1,  .17^2,  speedily  dissolved  the  ministry,  of 
iprbich  be  alone  formed  tb|s  connecting  link.  It  had  been 
uaderstoqd  by  Fox  mi  Purke,  that  th^  Duke  of  Portland 
^puld  bavp  beeii  nominated  his  successor.  Great  indeed 
yl^^  t^e^r  disapppintment  when  the  J^rl  of  Shelbunle 
found  means  to  procure  the  appointment  for  himself,  when 
t)A^y  considered  biqa  as  having  agreed  that  the  Duke  of 
Pprtland  should  be  invested  with  the  office,  and  that  the 
pli^qs  of  the  Rockingham  a^min^st)r^tion  should  be  pur- 
4|ied.  Fox  and  Burke  imniediaiely  resigtied.  They  opt 
oply  differed  with  Sbelb,uro^  in  their  opinion  duit  the 
ipdep^ndenp^  of  Americfi  should  be  ackpowledged ;  biit^ 
auperipr  to  the  petty  i^rtifices  pf  conrt  intrigue,  th^ 
vje^pd  with  copfempt  the  mode  by  which  their  colleague 
hful  i^pen^ed  to  power. 

OwH^  again  ip  pppositiouj  Fo^  ^pd  Burke  joined  their 
fqrces  j;i  the  enduing  4^sion  to  those  of  Lord  North,  apd 
^ttftcjn^  l,h^  gepfsral  pefce  which  had  beep  conplude^ 
d})ripg  the  repess,  with  gre^t  force  of  talent  «md  eminent 
aiHi^Pffi^    The  cqphiaed  f^im  procui^d  »  .majority  in 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


256  BURKE. 

the  bouse,  and  passed  a  vote  of  censure  on  the  new 
ministry;  which^  after  some  ineffectual  struggles^  was 
compelled  to  retire.  The  Duke  of  Portland  now  became 
first  lord  of  the  treasury,  Lord  John  Cavendish  chancellor 
of  the  exchequer,  Mr.  Burke,  as  before,  paymaster  of  the 
forces,  and  Mr.  Fox  and  Lord  North  joint-secretaries  of 
state,  in  what  was  called  the  coalition  administration. 

As  this  union  of  political  interest  was  the  most  unpo- 
pular measure  adopted  in  the  present  reign,  and  that 
which  it  has,  above  all  others,  been  found  most  difficult 
to  reconcile  with  purity  and  consistency  of  principle,  it 
may  be  necessary  to  state  what  has  been  offered  in  apo* 
logy,  at  least  as  far  as  Mr.  Burke  is  concerned.  It  is  well 
known  to  those  in  the  least  conversant  in  the  politics 
which  immediately  preceded  this  period,  how  uniformly 
Lord  North  was  upbraided  for  his  conduct  throughout  the 
whole  course  of  the  American  war :  every  thing  that  could 
attach  to  a  bad  ministry  wias  laid  to  his  charge,  except 
perhaps  the  solitary  exception  of  corruption  in  his  own 
person,  which  was  not  much,  while  he  was  continually 
accused  of  being  the  mover  of  a  mass  of  corruption  in 
others ;  and  as  Mr,  Fox  and  Mr.  Burke  were  the  two 
leading  champions  of  the  house  of  commons,  in  their  several 
speeches  will  be  found  invectives  of  such  a  nature,  as  to 
men,  judging  of  others  in  the  ordinary  habits  of  life,  per- 
haps would  be  thought  insurmountable  barriers  to  their 
coalition.  But  we  are  told,  that  forming  an  administration 
upon  a  broad  bottom  of  political  interest  is  quite  a  different 
thing  from  contracting  a  private  friendship:  in  the  former 
many  things  are  to  be  conceded,  in  regard  to  times  and 
circumstances,  and  the  opinions  of  others ;  in  the  latter, 
the  question  of  right  and  wrong  lies  in  a  narrower  com- 
pass, and  is  more  readily  judged  of  by  the  parties  and 
their  friends.  Mr.  Burke,  therefore,  may  say,  "  that,  in 
his  several  attacks  on  Lord  North,  he  considered  him  as  a 
principal  promoter  and  encourager  of  the  American  war, 
a  war  which  he  held  destructive  of  the  interests  and  ^on- 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


BURKE.  857 

ititutional  rights  of  this  couatry.  As  a  mbdster,  there- 
fort,  he  reprobated  bis  conduct;  but  the  Americao  contest 
being  over,  and  others  measures  about  to  be  pursued, 
which,  in  his  opinion,  might  heal  the  bruises  of  this  war, 
he  coalesced  with  him  as  a  tnan^  who  (benefiting  himself 
by  his  former  mistakes)  might  still  render  important 
services  to  his  country." 

Such  a  defence  as  this  may  very  wdl  be  admitted  in 
favour  of  Mr.  Burke  and  others ;  but  Mr.  Fox  stood 
jdedged  upon  diffSerent  grounds.  He  not  only  inveighed 
against  the  mimHer  in  the  grossest  terms  of  abuse,  but 
against  the  man,*  whom,  he  said,  **  he  would  not  trust 
himself  in  a  room  with,  and  from  the  moment  that  he  ever 
acted  with  him,  he  would  rest  satisfied  to  be  termed  the 
most  infamous  of  men.**  After  such  a  particular  decla* 
ration  as  this,  emphatically  and  deliberately  announced 
in  a  full  house  of  commons,  scarce  nine  months  had 
elapsed  when  Mr.  Fox  cordially  united  with  Lord  North, 
and  brought  a  suspicion  on  his  character,  with  regard  to 
consistency,  which  all  the  exertions  of  his  future  life  were 
not  able  to  remove.  In  the  mean  time,  however,  the  new 
administration  bade  fair  for  permanence.  It  was  strong 
in  talents,  in  rank,  and  in  the  weight  of  landed  interest. 
It  seemed  nearly  such  a  combination  of  great  families  as 
Mr.  Burke  had  wished  in  his  ^^  Thoughu  on  the  Causes 
of  the  present  Discontents;"  but  it  wanted  what  was  neces- 
sary to  complete  his  plan, — **  the  approbation  and  confi- 
dence of  the  people.''  Suspicipn  attached  to  all  their 
measures,  and  seemed,  in  the  opinion  of  the  people,  to  be 
confirmed  when  they  introduced  the  famous  East  India 
bill.  This  is  not  the  place  for  discussing  the  merits  of  this 
important  bill ;  it  may  suffice,  as  matter  of  fact,  to  state 
that  it  was  considered  as  trenching  too  much  on  the 
prerogative,  as  creating  a  mass  of  ministerial  influence 
which  would  be  irresistible;  and  that  the  vast  powers 
which  it  gave  the  house  of  commons  might  reader  the 
administration   too  strong  for   the  crown.     Had  these 

VOL.  I.  s 


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S5S  BURKE. 

objections  been  confined  to  the  ex-ministers  and  their 
friends,  the  coalesced  ministers  might  have  repelled  them, 
at  least  by  force  of  numbers ;  bat  it  was  pecoliarly  unfor* 
iubate  for  Mr.  Burke,  Mr.  Fox,  and  the  Whig  part  of  the 
administration,  that  they  were  opposed  without  doors  by 
the  Toice  of  the  people,  and  in  the  writings  of  all  those 
authors  who  had  the  credit  of  being  constitutional  autho- 
rities. The  East  India  bill,  accordingly,  although  carried 
in  the  house  of  commons,  was  lost  in  that  of  the  lords,  and 
a  new  administration  was  formed  in  December  1783,  at 
the  head  of  which  was  Mr.  Pitt. 

The  mtyority  of  the  house  of  commons,  however,  still 
continuing  attached  to  the  dismissed  ministers,  public 
business  was  interrupted,  and  continued  in  an  embarrassed 
state  until  his  mtyesty  determined  to  appeal  to  the  people 
by  a  dissolution  of  parliament  in  May  1784.  The  issue 
of  this  was,  that  many  of  the  most  distinguished  adherents 
to  the  Coalition  were  rejected  by  their  constituents,  and 
Mr.  Pitt,  in  the  new  parliament,  acquired  a  majority  quite 
decisive  as  to  the  common  routine  of  business,  but  cer^ 
tainly  for  many  years  not  comparable  in  talents  to  the 
opposition.  Mr.  Burke,  again  belonging  to  this  class| 
exerted  the  utmost  of  those  powers  which  so  justly  entitled 
him  to  the  character  he  maintained  in  the  world.  To 
detail  the  progress  of  that  high  character  through  all  the 
political  business  he  went  through  would  be  incompatible 
with  the  nature  and  limits  of  this  work ;  his  talents  will 
be  best  shewn  in  a  general  and  minute  review  of  his  publie 
life,  as  exemplified  in  his  speeches,  his  political  and  other 
publications,  and  be  will  be  found  one  of  the  greatest  oma« 
ments  of  the  age  he  lived  in. 

A  committee  of  the  house  of  commons  had  been  ap* 
pointed  in  1782,  of  which  Burke  was  a  member,  to  inquire 
into  the  execution  of  justice  in  the  East  Indies.  In  the 
course  of  their  researches  on  the  subject,  Burke  had  seen 
what  he  conceived  to  be  disgraceful  peculation,  combined 
with  rapacious  avarice;  and  atrocities  of  the  deepest  dye^ 


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BURKE.  959 

commtUed  onder  the  teinblaiice  of  justice,  united  in  the 
persoB  of  the  governor*geoeral.  In  the  begiuoiog  of  July 
1784,  he  made  a  speech  on  the  enormities  he  inscribed  to 
Hastings ;  and  displayed,  in  the  picture  he  drew,  powera 
which  might  have  composed  a  most  admirable  tragedy. 
He  brought  forward  a  string  of  resolutions,  as  the  foun- 
dation of  an  inquiry  into  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Hastings. 
This  was  briefly  opposed  by  Pitt,  becau^^  there  was  not 
at  that  time  that  undoubted  cTideoce  of  deiioquency 
which  aione  could  evince  the  propriety  of  the  motion* 
Burke's  fancy  and  passions  getting  much  warmer  from 
opposition,  pictured  to  him  Hf^tings  as  the  greatest 
monster  that  ever  cursed  the  earth ;  persisting  in  pressing 
the  subject,  he  was  at  length  overpowered  by  a  loud  and 
continual  clamour.  The  want  of  effective  talent  on  the 
ministerial  benches,  had  repeatedly  compelled  them  to 
have  recourse  to  this  expedient,  to  drown  the  eloquence 
of  Burke.  The  dignity  of  conscious  superiority  should 
bare  rendered  him  indi6ferent  to  such  a  dbturbance,  in- 
stead of  which  he  frequently  fell  into  the  most  outrageous 
fits  of  passion ;  and  once  told  them  that  he  could  discipline 
a  pack  of  hounds  to  yelp  with  much  more  melody  and 
equal  comprehensioo. 

From  this  time  Burke  devoted  the  whole  of  his  attention 
to  this  important  subject;  and  the  committee  of  the  house 
having  presented  a  report,  in  which  they  accused  Hastings 
and  Hornby  with  having,  '^  in  sundry  instances,  acted  in  a 
manner  repugnant  to  the  honour  and  policy  of  this  nation," 
Burke  pledged  himself  to  move  an  impeachment,  when 
Hastings^  return  should  enable  him  to  refute  the  charges, 
if  false.  During  the  recess  of  1785  Hastings  returned 
from  India.  On  the  commencement  of  the  ensuing  sessioUi 
Burke  was  challenged  by  Major  Scott  to  bring  forward 
his  charges.  This  he  promised  to  do;  and,  on  Feb.  17, 
1786,  he  called  the  attention  of  the  house  to  that  subject; 
and  the  impeachment  was  agreed  to. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  repeat  even  the  heads  of  the 


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860  BURKE. 

charges  against  Hastings.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  observe, 
that  the  yariety  and  extent  of  Burke's  powers  were  per- 
haps never  exhibited  to  greater  advantage  than  during 
this  tedious  trial.  The  opening  speech  of  Burke,  on  the. 
modes  of  bringing  a  public  delinquent  to  justice,  on  the 
character  add  situation  of  the  accuser,  and  the  motives 
by  which  he  ought  to  be  actuated,  exhibits  at  once  a 
most  extensive  knowledge  of  the  crown  law  of  this  king- 
dom, of  the  science  of  jurisprudence,  and  of  ethics  in 
general.  His  speech  on  the  Rohilla  war  unites  a  most 
complete  acquaintance  with  the  Roman  policy  in  the 
management  of  distant  provinces,  and  that  of  modern 
Europe,  to  the  wisest  and  most  liberal  principles  respect- 
ing  that  department  of  government.  His  eloquence, 
though  it  did  not  prove  the  points  he  wished  to  establish 
ebnceming  Hastings,  and  was  in  that  view  a  waste  of 
genius,  yet  contains  facts,  imagery,  sentiments,  and  philo* 
sophy,  that  render  it  delightful  and  estimable.  > 

'  No  measure  which  he  ever  supported  subjected  Burke 
to  more  obloquy  and  abuse*  than  the  prosecution  of 
Hastings.  It  was  stated,  that  he  was  instigated  to  it  by 
personal  resentment  against  the  governor-general,  in  con* 
sequence  of  his  inattention  to  Mr.  W.  Burke.  ^^  That 
Burke,''  says  Dr.  Bisset,  *^  or  any  man,  would  undertake 
so  laborious  a  task,  which  required  such  minuteness  of 
investigation  concerning. so  intricate  details,  the  materials 
to  be  fetched  from  such  a-  distance,  with  so  great  and 
powerful  a  body  Inimical  to  an  inquiry,  merely  because 
his  friend  had  been  slighted,  is  hardly  within  the  compass 
of  credibility."     Yet  fron^  whatever  cause  it  did  arise,  it 

*  Amongst  nunerons  Yinilent  ettackt,  through  the  mediam  of  the  public 
press,  may  be  recorded  the  foUowing  fnirioUe  epigram,  which  the  editor 
was  assured  by  a  lady  of  yeradty,  came  from  the  pen  of  Mrs.  John 
Ireland:— 

I've  often  wondered  that  on  Irish  gronnd 
No  Tenomons  reptile  ever  coold  be  found ; 
But  Nature,  willing  to  perform  her  work. 
Saved  aU  her  venom  to  complete  a  BURKE. 


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BURKE.  461 

IS  certain  that  Burke  indulged  in  the  co'krsest  personal 
observations  on  Mr.  Hastings,  and  in  many  violent  exag* 
gerations  not  founded  on  the  slightest  proof.  On  one 
occasion  in  particular  it  is  stated^  that^  in  a  moment  of 
Mr.  Hastings'  hesitation  about  the  ceremony  of  kneeling 
at  the  bar,  which  proceeded  from  accident,  Burke  com* 
manded  him  to  kneel,  with  a  ferocity  in  his  conntenafice 
which  no  painting  could  express. 

In  the  debates  which  took  place,  during  his  majesty's 
illness  in  ]788^9>  on  the  settlement  of  a  regency,  Burke 
stood  forward  with  an  unusual  degree  of  prominence,  and 
in  a  manner  which  certainly  did  no  credit  either  to  his 
prudence  or  to  his  feelings.  It  is  well  known  that  the 
opinion  expressed  by  Mr.  Pitt  on  this  occasion,  was,  that 
it  remained  with  parliament  to  supply  the  deficiency,  as  in 
other  circumstances  not  before  provided  for  by  the  exist* 
ing  laws.  Fox,  on  the  other  side,  contended,  that  during 
this  incapacity,  there  was  virtuldly  a  demise  of  the  crown ; 
and  that  therefore  the  next  heir  should  assume  the  powers 
of  government,  while  the  incapacity  continued.  Burke's 
intimate  connection  with  the  prince,  the  interest  of  his 
friends,  and  no  doubt  also  his  own  hopes  of  again  coming 
into  office,  led  him  to  support  this  latter  opinion.  But  the 
Warmth  with  which  he  contended,  and  particularly  the 
indecent  and  cruel  expressions  which  burst  from  him 
respecting  his  majesty,  created  a  more  general  dislike  to 
his  character  than  had  hitherto  been  entertained,  and  occa* 
sioned  a  feeling  in  the  house  move  formidable  to  his  friends 
than  to  the  minister  whom  they  opposed.  / 

His  biographer,  whose  object  it  is  to  exhibit  him  to  the 
World  as  perfectly  consbtent  in  his  public  character, 
appears  to  have  been  desirous  to  cast  a  veil  over  tliis  part 
of  his  history.  Tet,  as  it  exhibits,  perhaps,  more  charac* 
teristic  features  of  the  man  as  well  as  the  politician,  than 
any  other  action  of  his  life,  we  have  thought  it  improper 
io  avoid  noticing  it.  And  when  we  consider,  that  this 
violence  of  temper  and  passion  were  exercised  on  the 


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t6t  BURKE. 

illastrious  personage  to  whom,  in  a  very  few  years,  be  was 
gratefdlly  to  acknowledge  his  obligation  for  the  indepen* 
dehce  atid  comfort  of  his  latter  days,  we  cannot  be  surprised 
that  those  who  intend  an  uniform  and  unqualified  pane- 
gyric 6n  his  public  life,  wish  to  suppress  his  conduct 
during  this  memorable  period. 

We  have  now  arrived  at  the  last  and  most  important 
era  of  the  life  of  Burke,  when  at  once  dissolving  almost 
every  connection  of  his  former  life,  he  threw  himself  into 
the  amtf  of  those  whom  he  had  uniformly  and  vehemently 
opposed.  The  revolution  which  was  taking  place  in 
Prande  was  hailed  by  Fox  as  the  dawn  of  returning  liberty 
and  justice^  while  Burke  regarded  it  as  \he  meteoric  glare 
6f  anarchy  and  ruin.  In  a  debate  on  the  army  estimates 
for  1790,  adverting  to  the  revolution  in  France,  Fox  con- 
sidered that  event  as  a  reason  for  rendering  a  smaller 
military  establishment  necessary  on  our  part  :<^'' The  new 
form,"  he  said, "  that  the  government  of  France  was  likely 
!•  assume,  would,  he  was  persuaded,  make  her  a  better 
neighbour,  and  less  propense  to  hostility,  than  when  she 
was  subject  to  the  cabal  and  intrigues  of  ambitious  and 
interested  statesmen/' 

^rke  soon  after  delivered  his  sentiments  on  the  sub- 
ject. Fully  coinciding  with  Fox  respecting  the  evils  of 
the  old  despotism,  and  the  dangers  that  accrued  from  it  to 
this  country,  he  thought  very  differently  of  the  tranquillity 
to  neighbours  and  happiness  to  themselves,  likely  to  ensoe 
from  the  late  proceedmgs  in  France.  Warming,  as  he 
advanced  in  the  argument,  be  observed,  '^  In  the  last  agQ 
we  had  been  in  danger  of  being  entangled,  by  the  example 
of  France,  in  the  net  of  relentless  despotism.  Our  present 
danger,  from  the  model  of  a  people  whose  character  knew 
no  medium,  was  that  of  being  led  through  an  admiration 
of  successful  fraud  and  violence,  to  imitate  the  excesses 
of  an  irrational,  unprincipled,  proscribing,  confiscating^ 
plundering,  ferocious,  bloody,  and  tyrannical  democracy." 
Sheridan  expressed  his  disapprobation  of  the  remarks 


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BURKE.  ^ 

and  reasoniogs  of  Barke  on  this  subject,  with  much  forq«; 
He  thought  them  qaite  incoDsisteot  with  the  general  prin* 
ciples  and  condact  of  one  who  so  highly  valued  the  British 
goTernment  and  revolution:  ^ The  National  Assemhly/'  he 
said/'  had  exerted  a  firmness  and  perseverance^  hitherto  UQ«r 
ezampled,  that  had  secured  the  liberty  of  France,  and  vindi-* 
cated  the  cause  of  mankind.  What  action  of  theirs  autho* 
rised  the  appellation  of  a  bloody,  ferocious^  and  tyrannical 
democracy?"  Burke,  perceiving  Sheridan's  view  of  afiairs 
in  France,  differed  entirely  from  him»  and  thinking  his 
friend's  construction  of  his  observations  uncandid,  declared, 
that  Mr.  Sheridan  and  he  were  from  that  moment  separated 
for  ever  in  politics.  '^  Mr.  Sheridan/'  he  said,  '^  has  sacri- 
ficed my  friendship  in  exchange  for  the  applause  of  cluba 
and  associations:  I  assure  him  he  will  find  the  acquisition 
too  insignificant  to  be  worth  the  price  at  which  it  is 
purchased.'' 

The  sentiments  and  opinions  declared  in  the  house  of 
commons  by  Messrs.  Fox  and  Sheridan^  induced  Burke  to 
publish  his  ''  Reflections  on  tlie  French  Revolution/'  in  n 
more  enlarged  form,  and  more  closely  to  contemplate  its 
probable  influence  on  British  minds*  To  account  for  hil 
mppareaH  change  of  opinion  on  the  subject  of  civil  libertyi 
be  informs  us  in  his  Reflections,  tliat  he  was  endeavouring 
to  ^  preserve  consistency  by  varying  bis  neans  to  seonrs 
the  unity  of  his  end ;  and  when  the  equipoise  of  the  vess^ 
in  which  he  sails,  may  be  in  danger  of  overloading  upoii 
.one  side,  is  desirous  of  carrying  tlie  small  weight  of  bU 
reasons  to  that  which  may  preserve  the  equipoise." 

In  tfaje  session  of  1790,  be  adhered  uniformly  io  the 
ieotiments  which  he  had  avowed  in  bis  discussioAs  wit^ 
Foa:  and  Sheridan,  identifying  the  whole  body  of  tbo 
dissenters  with  Drs.  Priesiley  aod  Price,  and  therefore 
looking  upon  them  as  the  friends  of  the  French  revolution 
aod  tbe  propagators  of  iu  principles  in  this  country.  H# 
opposed  a  motion  for  the  repeal  of  the  test  act,  a  measure 
which  he  bad,  at  a  Iwrmer  period,  strenuously  advocat^di 


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264  BURKE. 

He  also  opposed  a  motion  for  reform  ia  parliament  At 
this  time  Mr.  Fox  and  be  still  continued  in  terms  of 
friendship^  though  they  did  not  frequently  meet;  but  when^ 
in  179I9  a  bill  was  proposed  for  the  formation  of  a  consti- 
tution in  Canada,  Burke,  in  the  course  of  the  discussion, 
entered  on  the  general  principle  of  the  rights  of  man, 
proceeded  to  its  offspring  the  constitution  of  France,  and 
expressed  his  conviction,  that  there  was  a  design  formed 
in  this  country  against  its  constitution.  After  some  of  the 
members  of  his  own  party^  had  called  Mr.  Burke  to  order, 
Mr.  Fox  spoke,  and,  after  declaring  his  conviction,  that 
the  British  constitution,  though  defective  in  theory,  was 
in  practice  excellently  adapted  to  this  country,  repeated 
his  praises  of  the  French  revolution,  which,  he  thought,  on 
the  whole,  one  of  the  most  glorious  events  in  the  history 
of  mankind.  He  then  proceeded  to  express  his  dissent 
from  Burke^s  opinions  on  the  subject,  as  inconsistent  with 
just  views  of  the  inherent  rights  of  mankind.  These  be- 
sides, he  said,  were  inconsistent  with  Mr.  Burke's  former 
principles. 

Burke,  in  reply,  complained  of  having  been  treated  by 
Fox  with  harshness  and  malignity ;  and,  after  defending 
his  opinions  with  regard  to  the  new  system  pursued  in 
France,  denied  the^  charge  of  inconsistency,  and  insisted 
that  his  opinions  on  government  had  been  the  same  during 
all  bis  political  life.  He  said  that  Mr.  Fox  and  he  had 
often  differed,  and  there  had  been  no  loss  of  friendship 
between  them,  but  there  is  something  in  the  cursed  French 
revolution  that  envenoms  every  thing.  Fox  whispered, 
*^  there  is  no  loss  of  friendship  between  us.''  Burke,  with 
great  warmth,  answered,  '^  There  is !  I  know  the  price  of 
my  conduct;  oar  friendship  is  at  an  end.''  Mr.  Fox  was 
very  greatly  agitated  by  this  renunciation  of  frieodtbip, 
and  made  many  concessions,  but  still  maintained  that 
Burke  had  formerly  held  very  different  principles,  and  that 
he  himself  had  learned  from  him  those  principles  which 
be  now  reprobated,  at  the  same  time  enforcing  the  allega- 


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BURKE.  i65 

tion;  by  refereDces  to  measures  which  Burke  had  either 
proposed  or  promoted,  and  by  many  apposite  quotations 
from  his  speeches.  This  repetition  of  the  charge  of  incon- 
sistency prevented  the  impression  which  his  affectionate 
and  conciliating  language  and  behaviour  might  otherwise 
have  made  on  Burke.  ^^  It  would  be  difficult/'  says 
Dr.  Bissety  *^  to  determine  with  certainty  whether  consti- 
tutional irritability  or  public  principle  was  the  chief  cause 
of  Burke's  sacrifice  of  that  friendship  which  he  had  so  long 
cherished,  and  of  which  the  talents  and  qualifications  of 
its  object  rendered  him  so  worthy."  Another  reason  has 
been  assigned,  which  might,  perhaps,  have  had  some 
weight  in  this  determination.  It  is  stated,  that  an  obser- 
vation of  Fox,  on  the  "Reflections,"  that  they  were  radier 
to  be  regarded  as  an  effusion  of  poetic  genius,  than  a 
philosophical  investigation,  had  reached  Burke's  ears.;  a 
remark  which  mortified  him  as  an  author,  and  displeased 
him  as  a  friend.  Be  this  as  it  may,  from  the  time  of  this 
debate,  he  remained  at  complete  variance  with  Mr.  Fox, 
and  even  treated  him  with  great  asperity  in  some  of  bis 
subsequent  publications. 

Some  days  after  this  discussion,  the  following  paragraph 
appeared  in  the  Morning  Ckromcle : — ^^  The  great  and  firm 
b6dy  of  the  Whigs  of  England  have  decided  on  the  dis- 
pute between  Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Burke;  and  the  former  is 
declared  to  have  maintained  the  pare  doctrines  by  which 
they  are  bound  together,  and  upon  which  they  have  inva- 
riably acted.  The  consequence  is,  that  Mr.  Burke  retires 
from  parliament"  After  this  consignation  to  retirement, 
Mr.  Burke  no  Icmger  took  any  prominent  part  in  the  pro* 
ceedings  of  parliament,  except  with  regard  to  the  French 
revolution  and  the  prosecution  of  Hastings,  which  being 
terminated  by  the  acquittal  of  that  gentleman  in  the  sum- 
flier  of  1794,  be  soon  after  resigned  his  seat,  and  retired  to 
bis  villa  at  Beaconsfield,  where,  on  the  2nd  of  August  in  the 
same  year,  he  met  with  a  severe  domestic  calamity,  in  the 
death  of  his  only  son.    In  the  beginning  of  the  year  he 


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a66  BURKE. 

alio  lost  his  brother  Itichard;  bnt  though  this  reiterated 
stroke  of  death  deeply  affected  him,  it  neither  relaxed  the 
vigour  of  his  mind,  nor  lessened  the  interest  which  he  took 
in  public  affairs. 

Soon  after  the  death  of  his  son,  his  majesty  bestowed 
on  him  a  pension  of  1200/.  for  his  own  life  and  that  of 
his  wife,  charged  on  the  eivil  list,  and  two  other  pensions 
of  d500/«  for  three  lives,  payable  out  of  the  four  and  a  half 
per  cent.  These  gifts  were  represented  as  a  reward  for 
having  changed  bis  principles,  and  deserted  his  friends, 
and  drew  down  some  severe'  censures  from  Lord  Lauder* 
dale  and  the  Duke  of  Bedford.  These  he  repelled  in  a 
^'  Letter  to  a  noble  Lord,"  in  which  he  gives  a  sketch  of 
his  political  life,  and  of  the  beneficial  measures  in  which  be 
had  been  engaged.  Not  content,  however,  with  vindi^ 
eating  his  own  claim  to  a  pension,  he  gives  a  retrospective 
view  of  the  means  by  which  the  Duke  of  Bedford's  ances* 
tors  acquired  their  property.  This  account  of  the  Russell 
acquirements  is  generally  conceived  to  be  erroneous,  and 
can  only  be  attributed  to  irritation  and  anger  at  the  cen* 
sure  passed  by  that  nobleman,  on  what  he  regarded  as  a 
squandering  of  the  public  money. 

When  the  appearaace  of  melioration  in  the  principlea 
and  government  of  France,  induced  his  majesty  to  make 
overtures  for  peace  to  the  French  Directory,  Burke  re- 
sumed his  pen,  and,  in  his  *^  Thoughts  on  the  Prospect  of 
a  Rogioide  Peace,"  expressed  himself  strongly  against  the 
»9teif  of  suoh  a  meaaare.  This  was  his  last  work,  and  in 
poiftt  .of  atyle  and  reasooing,  not  inferior  to  any  be  had 
{NToduced  on  the  subject  of  the  French  character  aad 
govemmeat. 

From  the  beginning  of  June  1797,  hb  liealtb  rapidly 
declined ;  bat  his  understanding  exerted  itself  with  undi* 
miniahed  force,  and  uncontracted  range.  On.  7th  July, 
he  spent  the  morning  in  a  recapitulation  of  the  most  im« 
portadt  actions  of  his  life,  the  circumstances  in  which  be 
acted,  and  the  motives  by  which  he  was  prompted.  DweU 


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BURKE.  .  967 

Hog  particularly  on  tbe  French  revolotion^  add  on  iht 
leparatioQ  from  admired  friends^  be  spoke  with  pleasure 
of  the  conscious  rectitude  of  bis  intentions ;  and  entreated 
that,  if  any  unguarded  asperity  of  bis  had  oflliended  them,  to 
beliere  that  no  offence  was  intended.  On  the  following 
day,  while  one  of  his  friends,  with  the  assistance  of  bis 
bervantSy  was  carrying  him  into  another  room,  be  faintly 
ottered  ''  God  hleis  you  !"  fell  back,  and  iilstantly  expired^ 
in  the  sixty-eighth  year  of  his  age^ 
•  In  this  sk^ob  of  the  life  of  Edmund  Burke^  itbas  bteft 
impossible  to  insert  eyen  the  titles  of  bis  nnmeroua  pnbUh 
totioas.  They  bare  been  sinoe  published  entire  by  bis 
executors  Drs.  King  and  Lawrence,  in  five  vob.  4to.  and 
iweWe  vols*  8vo.  and  will  ever  form  a  stupendous  moni^- 
ment  of  bis  great  and  unrivalled  talents.  By  tbe  political 
student,  however,  they  will  require  to  be  read  with  a  ton* 
siderable  portion  of  that  judgment  which,  in  the  author, 
was  frequently  paralysed  by  tbe  rapidity  of  his  ideas,  and 
the  bewitching  seductions  of  bis  imagination. 

In  his  person,  Burke  was  about  five  feet  ten  inches  high, 
erect,  and  well  formed ;  with  a  coontenanoe  rather  soft 
&nd  open,  which,  except  by  an  occasional  bend  of  hii 
brow,  caused  by  his  being  near-s^bted,  indicated  none  of 
those  great  traits  of  mind  which  he  possessed.  Tbe  best 
print  of  him  is  from  a  half4ength  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds^ 
painted  when  be  was  in  the  meridian  of  life. 

An  opinion  has  be^n  very  prevalent,  that  Sir  Joahaa 
Reynolds'  lectures  were  written  by  Burke,--4)ut  whoever 
will  compare  these  discourses  with  the  Ebsay  on  the  Sub* 
lime  and  Beautiful,  will  find  their  theories  of  beauty  to 
have  been  by  no  means  tbe  same.  According  to  Bnrke, 
comparative  smallness,  smoothness,  varieQr  in  the  direction 
of  their  parts,  freedom  from  aogahuity  in  their  paru, 
delicacy  of  construction,  clearness  and  brightness,  colour 
without  glare, — these  are  the  constituenu  of  beauty. 

In  this  enumeration,  Burke  has  omitted  one  great  coi»* 
stitaent  of  beauty,  infinitely  more  important  than  all  bm 


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«68  BURKE. 

has  laid  down-^^this  principle  Reynolds  has  supplied.  It 
must  have  occurred  to  the  readers  of  the  Sublime  and 
Beautiful,  tha(  the  elements  of  Bur^e  are  not  sufficiently 
defined  to  desenre  the  name  of  principles.  Such  phrases 
as  ''  delicacy  of  construction/'  **  clearness  and  brightness 
of  colour  without  glare/'  ^*  yariety  of  direction  in  the 
parts,''  are  too  pliable  to  be  made  weapons  of  philosophical 
controversy.  It  might  also  be  objected,  that  it  would  be 
possible  to  construct  something  in  which  all  these  consti- 
tuents Jihould  be  found,  and  which  would  at  the  same  time 
•produce  no  effect  of  beauty  in  the  mind  of  the  beholder, 
it  might  also  be  said  that  beautiful  objects  maybe  found 
in  which  one,  or  even  several  of  Burke's  principles  are 
violated.  What  is  more  beautiful  than  the  broad  expanse 
of  clear  sky  ?  and  yet  there  is  no  '' comparative  smallness" 
in  it.  Are  the  willows  arching  over  a  river,  add  dipping 
their  leaves  in  the  stream,  the  broad  water-planu  floating 
on  its  surface,  and  the  fragments  of  rock  which  ruffle  the 
course  of  its  waters,  destructive  of  its  beauty,  by  injuring 
its  smoothness?  Is  there  nothing  beautiful  in  the  form  of 
a  sphere,  though  it  has  but  little  *^  variation  in  the  direc- 
tion of  iu  parts?"  Would  Burke  have  bent  the  '^anglea'* 
of  the  larch  fir,  into  curves ;  or  would  he  have  thought  he 
bad  improved  the  beauty  of  the  oak,  by  remodelling  its 
form  to  correspond  with  the  delicate  construction  of  the 
acacia  i  If  there  be  beauty  in  the  '^  clear  bright  colours'* 
of  noon,  is  there  nothing  to  admire  in  the  calm  and  sober 
shades  of  twilight?  These  are  objections  which  would 
naturally  strike  the  mind  of  an  artist,  and  accordingly  the 
whole  tenour  of  the  lectures  is  in  opposition  to  that  reckless 
devotion  to  analysis,  which  could  alone  have  led  Burke 
into  such  a  narrow  system. 

.  Accordingly  in  the  theory  of  beauty  which  is  laid  down 
in  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds'  third  discourse,  we  find  no  refe- 
rence to  the  elements  of  Burke.  Beauty  is  there  defined 
to  consist  in  an  abstraction  of  all  that  is  singular,  local, 
and  peculiar  in  nature.    That  individual  is  most  beautifu] 


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BURKE.  £69 

which  approaches  nearest  ta  what  we  may  be  allowed  to 
call  the  average  form  of  the  species  to  which  it  belong^. 

"  It  may  be  objected/'  says  he,  "  that  in  every  partis 
cnlar  species  there  are  varioos  central  forms,  which  are 
separate  and  distinct  from  each  other,  and  yet  are  unde- 
niably beautiful ;  that  in  the  human  figure,  for  Instance, 
the  beauty  of  Hercules  is  one,  of  the  Gladiator  another, 
of  the  Apollo  another ;  which  makes  so  many  different 
ideas  of  beauty. 

**  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  these  figures  are  each  perfect  in 
their  kind,  though  of  different  characters  and  proportions; 
but  still  none  of  them  is  the  representation  of  an  indivi- 
dual, but  of  a  class.    And  as  there  is  one  general  form, 
which,  as  I  have  said,  belongs  to  the  human  kind  at  large, 
so  in  each  of  these  classes  there  is  one  common  idea  and 
central  form,  which  is  the  abstract  of  the  various  individual 
forms  belonging  to  that  class.    Thus,  though  the  forms  of 
childhood  and  age  differ  exceedingly,  there  is  a  common 
form  in  childhood,  and  a  common  form  in  age,  which  is 
the  more  perfect,  as  it  is  more  remote  from  all  peculiar!* 
ties.  But  I  must  add  further,  that  though  the  most  perfect 
forms  of  each  of  the  general  divisions  of  the  human  figure 
are  ideal,  and  superior  to  any  individual  form  of  that  class; 
yet  the  highest  perfection  of  the  human  figure  is  not  to 
be  found  in  any  one  of  them.    It  is  not  in  the  Hercules, 
nor  in  the  Gladiator,  nor  in  the  Apollo;  but  in  that  form 
which  is  taken  from  them  all,  and  which  partakes  equally 
of  the  activity  of  the  Gladiator^  of  the  delicacy  of  the 
Apollo,  and  of  the  muscular  strength  of  the  Hercules. 
For  perfect  beauty  in  any  species  must  combine  all  the 
characters  which  are  beautiful  in  that  species.    It  cannot 
consist  in  any  one  to  the  exclusion  of  the  rest :  no  one, 
therefore,  must  be  predominant,  that  no  one  may  be  de- 
ficient.'' 

The  discourse  from  which  the  foregoing  extract  has 
been  taken,  was  delivered  in  the  year  1770.  Perhaps  it 
might  be  objected,  that  Burke  may  have  revised  his  theory 


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$70  BURKE. 

in  tbe  tbirteeo  years  which  then  had  elapsed  since  his 
publication^  and  might  have  taken  that  opportunity  of 
correcting  his  error.  Such  a  supposition  is  improbable 
on  many  grounds ;  bat  we  have  evidence  which  will  go 
near  to  prove  it  false,  and  shew,  that  soon  after  the  publi- 
cation of  Burke's  Essay,  Reynolds'  Theory  of  Beauty  was 
already  formed.  In  the  eighty-second  number  of  the 
Idler,  published  in  November  1759,  which  was  allowedly 
written  by  Sir  Joshua,  the  same  doctrines  are  mainuined 
with  even  more  ability  than  in  his  lectures,  and  some  pas- 
sages in  this  article  seem  specially  directed  against  the 
Essay  on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful,  which  had  then  been 
before  the  public  only  two  years,  and  would  naturally  be 
adverted  to  in  any  discussion  connected  with  the  subject 
on  which  it  treats ; — ^*  Whoever  shall  attempt  to  prove, 
(says  he,)  that  a  form  is  beautiful  from  a  particular  grada- 
tion of  magnitude,  undulation  of  a  curve,  or  direction  of  a 
line,  or  whatever  other  conceit  of  his  imagination,  he  shall 
fix  on  as  a  criterion  of  form,  he  will  be  continually  con* 
tradicting  himself,  and  find  at  last,  that  the  great  mother 
oature  will  not  be  subjected  to  such  narrow  rules.''  (vol.ii. 
p«ge  939.) 

If  to  this  internal  evidence  we  add  the  external  proof 
furnished'  by  Mr.  Burke's  unequivocal  disavowal,  and 
Malooe's  very  satisfactory  statement,  we  hope  the  question 
will  sit  at  rest.  Perhaps  it  was  not  worthy  so  minute  an 
investigation;  but  if  posthumous  reputation  be  the  reward 
which  has  called  forth  the  most  important  services  man- 
kind has  recdved,  we  are  all  interested  in  shewing,  that 
whatever  it  may  want  in  substance,  it  shall,  at  least  be 
rendered  as  certain  as  tbe  imperfect  state  of  human  dis«- 
crimination  will  admit. 


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«71 


RICHARD  BURKE. 

Or  this  gentlemaQ  whose  powers  of  pleasing  id  private 
life»  were  do  less  distioguished  tbao  those  of  his  celebrated 
brother  Edaiaod,  we  regret  that  we  have  beeo  able  to 
obtaiD  but  few  particulars.  His  fame  rests  priocipallj 
oD  bis  wit,  which  peculiarly  excelled  io  repartees,  deli- 
veied  with  a  homorous  quaiotoess,  that  gave  additional 
poigoaocy  to  the  seDtimeDt,  aud  maoy  of  which  have  beeo 
frequently  retailed  as  proceediog  from. his  brother.  He 
was  educated  to  the  profession  of  the  law,  in  which  he 
became  a  barrister,  but  does  not  appear  ever  to  have 
attained  any  height  in  this  pursuit,  as  he  was  probably 
contented  with  the  moderate  salaries  of  those  situations  to 
which  he  was  appointed  through  the  interest  of  his  brother. 
In  Barry's  Letters,  we  find  a  grateful  remembrance  of  the 
kindness  which  he  experienced  from  Richard  Burke  during 
a  visit  made  by  that  gentleman  to  Paris  in  1767,  while 
Barry  remained  in  that  capital;  and  shortly  after  his 
return  from  the  continent,  he  had  the  misfortune  to  break 
both  bones  of  his  leg  in  two  places,  by  a  fall  in  the  street; 
a  circumstance  which  is  humorously  alluded  to  by  Gold* 
Miiitb,  as  a  just  punishment  for  the  jests  he  had  broken  on 
others.  He  was  at  different  times  collector  of  Grenada, 
and  recorder  of  Bristol,  whidi  last  office  he  retained  till 
his  death,  which  happened  February  5,  1794.  He  had 
topped  with  his  brother  Edmund,  and  another  relation,  ih 
Duke  Street,  St.  James's,  on  the  preceding  evening,  and 
Appeared  in  excellent  health  and  spirits ;  at  twelve  o'clock 
be  was  carried  home  in  a  coach  to  his  chambers  in  L\q- 
coln*%  Inn,  where  he  was  soon  after  taken  ill,  and  expired 
before  three  in  the  morning. 

His  easy  humour  and  familiar  good-nature,  procured 
for  him  the  appellation  of  Dick  Burke ;  and  his  under- 
ataoding,  though  far  inferior  to  the  transcendant  powers  of 
tfasit  of  his  brother,  was  highly  respectable  and  fraught 


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27«  BURKE. 

ivith  varioas  tnd  abundant  knowledge.  We  are  not  aware 
that  he  at  any  time  distinguished  himself  in  the  literary 
world,  his  only  published  remains  which  we  are  acquainted 
with,  being  two  letters  to  Barry,  inserted  in  the  works  of 
that  artist;  and  which,  though  on  common-place  subjects, 
bear  evident  testimony  to  the  justice  of  that  character 
which  declares  his  disposition  to  have  been  generous, 
humane,  and  friendly. 

The  following  lines,  forming  a  part  of  the  humorous 
retaliation  of  Goldsmith,  contains  so  whimsical  a  character 
of  Richard  Burke,  that  we  cannot  refrain  inserting  them : — 

^  Here  Ues  honest  Ridnrd,  whose  fiOe  I  mnst  sigh  at ; 
Alatl  tfasttMhfroKcthovildiiowbeso^iiiet! 
What  spiriti  were  his  1  what  wit,  and  what  whim  I 
Now  brealung  a  jett,  and  now  breaking  a  Ifanb  1 
Now  wrangling  and  gmmbling  to  keep  op  tlie  ball  f 
Now  teasing  and  yexing,  yet  langliing  at  all  t 
In  short,  so  proyoking  a  deyU  was  Dick, 
That  we  wished  him  foil  ten  times  a  day  at  old  Nick ; 
But,  missing  his  mirth  and  agreeable  vein, 
As  often  we  wished  to  have  Dick  back  again.'' 


WALTER  BURKE 

Was  a  native  of  Limerick,  and  at  the  time  of  his  deatb 
was  one  of  the  oldest  pursers  in  the  navy,  which  profession 
he  entered  under  the  protection  of  his  kinsman,  the  late 
Edmund  Burke,  and  served  upwards  of  thirty  years,  during 
which  period  he  was  present  at  the  most  decisive  engage- 
ments, and  closed  his  naval  career  on  the  memorable  2 1st 
of  October,  1805,  when  he  had  the  honour  to. support  his 
mucb^loved  commander,  the  immortal  Nelson,  in  his  dying 
moments.  He  was  then  purser  of  the  Victory,  and  was 
much  esteemed  by  his  lordship,  and  so  great  was  his 
veneration  for  his  admiral,  that  he  would  never  serve  afloat 
after  that  day. 

To  him,- almost  the  last^ words  of  his  lordship  previous 
to  the  battle  were  addressed :  '^  Burke,''  said  be,/'  I  expect 


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BURROWES.  «73 

to  see  every  nuui  in  bis  ttauoo,  and  if  we  sacceed  to-day, 
you  and  I  will  go  to  sea  no  more/'  He  died  at  Would- 
ham,  near  Rochester,  in  January  1816,  at  the  advanced 
«ge  of  seveoty-flix.  There  is  a  good  likeness  of  him  to  be 
foand  in  West's  picture  of  the  death  of  Nelson, 

The  unfortunate,  but  gaUaat  Captain  Burke,  of  the 
SeagnU,  with  a  younger  brother  (both  of  whom  foundered 
in  that  ship)  were  his  sons;  and  also  Lieut.  Burke,  of  the 
Mars,  who  was  mortally  wonnded  in  cutting  out  La  Ch6- 
vrette,  and  succeeded  by  boarding  her  after  receiving  his 
mortal  wound* 


JOHN  BURNS 

Was  born  in  the  town' of  Monaghan,  about  the  com* 
inencement  of  the  last  century.  He  was  deaf  and  dumb 
^rom  his  birth,  but  discovering  a  strong  natural  capacity, 
was  taught  to  read  and  write,  and  speedily  acquired  a  con* 
^iderable  knowledge  of  arithmetic,  geography,  history,  and 
chronology.  In  the  humblest  circumstances,  he  com- 
menced life  as  a  pedlar,  with  a  few  shillings,  which  he 
improved  into  a  considerable  sum,  and  became  a  shop- 
keeper. He  was,  however,  unfortunate;  he  became  a 
bankrupt,  and  was  cast  into  prison.  From  hence  he  was 
Kberated,  and  paid  the  full  amount  of  his  debts,  by  his 
literary  talents.  His  misfortunes  and  abilities  had  attracted 
the  notice  of  the  eccentric  and  benevolent  Philip  Skelton, 
under  whose  patronage  he  composed,  at  an  advanced 
period  of  life,  ''An  Historical  and  Chronological  Remem- 
brancer,'' which  was  published  by  subscription  in  Dublin, 
by  William  Watson,  in  1776.  It  contains  five  hundred 
pages  of  curious  matter,  and  appears  a  surprising  intel* 
ieclual  effort  of  a  man  born  with  his  infirmities* 


ALEXAi^DER  SAUNDERSON  BURROWES 

vV  AS  a  brave  naval  officer,  who  fell  gloriously  in  the  arms 
of  victory.    He  was  the  third  son  of  Alexander  Burrowes, 
yoL.  I.  T 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


274  BUTLER. 

Esq.  of  tbe  county  of  Cavan^  and  had  been  bat  a  few 
months  promoted  to  the  ootmnaad  of  ^  The  Constance,*' a 
frigate  of  twenty-two  guns.  He  was  also  made  commodore 
oCa  small  flying  squadron,  under  Sir  James  SaomareZy  on 
the  Jersey  station,  for  the  pnrpose  of  scomruig  the  Chan- 
nel in  that  qnarter.  The  squadron  consisted  of  the  Con- 
stance (flag«ehip),  tbe  Strennoos,  Sharpshooter,  Sbcldivke, 
and  one  or  two  odier  light  vessels.  On  the  Idth  October, 
1806,  they  weighed  fifom  their  anchorage  at  Chancy,  and 
on  standing  in  to  reconnoitre  St.  Maloes,  a  sail  was  dis- 
covered off  Cape  Frihol,  to  which  the  squadron  gave 
chace;  it  was  soon  discovered  by  her  manoeuvres  the 
chace  was  an  enemy,  who  about  noon  succeeded  in  getting 
into  Bouche  D'Arkie,  hauling  close  in  with  the  rocks,  and 
making  every  preparation  for  an  obstinate  defence  (  she 
was  covered  t^y  a  strong  battery  of  guns  on  tbe  htU,  aa 
well  as  6eld-pieces  and  musquetry  employed  by  tbe  troops 
brought  down  for  that  purpose.  After  a  desperate  and 
sanguinary  conflict,  in  which  Captain  Burrowes  was  slain 
by  a  grape-shot  in  the  beat  of  the  action,  she  was  taken, 
and  proved  to  be  ^^  La  Salamandre,"  a  French  frigate* 

An  officer  of  greater  gallantry  and  enterprise  could  not 
have  been  chosen  for  the  active  service  in  which  be  was 
engaged.  He  was  in  bis  thirty-ninth  year,  twenty-five  of 
which  had  been  devoted  to  the  service  of  bis  country. 
His  merit  was  his  only  recommendation,  and  had  his  life 
been  longer  spared,  be  would  probably  have  ranked  among 
tbe  most  splendid  warriors  of  the  British  navy. 


JAMES  BUTLER, 
Thb  fourth  Earl  of  Or  mo  ndb,  was  equally  distin- 
guished by  his  learning  and  attention  to  literature  in  an 
age  when  such  qualities  were  rarely  the  companions  of 
wealth  or  rank.  He  was  under  age  when  he  succeeded 
to  the  title  and  estates  by  the  death  of  his  father,  and  on 
bis  return  into  Ireland,  he  accompanied  the  lord  deputy 
Scrope  in  his  invasion  of  the  territory  of  M'Murrough, 


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BUTLER.  m 

when  tbtt  numerous  and  powerful  sept  were  completely 
routed,  aod  O^Nolao^  w jtb  bis  son,  and  many  othera»  made 
priftooers.  During  tliis  ezcursiony  on  the  receipt  of  iotel- 
ligenoe  that  Walter  de  Bprge,  aod  O^CarroU  faiad  ravaged 
the  coaoty  of  Kilkeooy,  they  marched  with  such  expedU 
tioo  tp  CaUao,  that  they  surprised  the  rebels^  aod  oom-> 
pletdy  defeated  them  with  the  slaughter  of  eight  huodred 
men.  At  the  termination  of  this  successful  campaign,  in 
I407»  be  returned  to  Dahliot  when  be  was  app<Hated  lord 
deputy  of  Ireland,  althaugh  be  was  yet  a  minor ;  and  a 
parliament  which  he  held  there  confiraied  the  statutes  of 
Kilkenny  and  Dublin,  together  with  the  charter  granted 
under  the  great  seal  of  England.  He  afterwards  stood 
godfather  with  the  Earl  of  Desmond,  to  George  Plaatage- 
net,  the  unfortunate  Duke  of  Clanence,  who  was  born  in 
Dublin. 

In  1412  he  accompanied  Thomas  of  Lancaster  iato 
France,  in  which  year  Henry  V.  mounting  the  throne^ 
be  was  received  with  great  favour  by  him ;  and  returned 
to  Ireland  in  14i9i  with  the  appoiotmeut  of  lord-lieute- 
nant from  that  victorious  monarch,  by  virtue  of  a  more 
ample  commission  than  had  been  granted  to  any  of  his 
predecessors.  He  shortly  after  ponvened  a  parliament| 
which  granted  a  large  supply  to  the  king,  and  conferred 
on  himfielf  a  pecuniary  recom  pence  for  his  activity  and 
zeal  for  the  public  benefit*  He  now  attacked  O'Reilly, 
and  compelled  him  to  sue  for  peace ;  and  turning  bis  arms 
against  M'Murrough,  who  at  that  time  made  all  Leinster 
tcemble,  completely  reduced  his  formidable  power.  Theae 
signal  successes  rendered  him  equally  dreaded  and  bated 
by  the  natives,  and  in  14^1  a  dreadful  ^laughter  was  com* 
mitted  on  his  family  near  the  monastery  of  Leys,  twenty* 
seven  being  slain,  and  a  considerable  number  taken 
prisoners.  Incensed  at  this  outrage,  he  immediately  levied 
a  body  of  troops,  and  invading  the  territories  of  I#eys,com«' 
pelled  the  aggressors  to  sue  for  peace,  and  to  make  ample 
compensation  feu-  tbe  damages  they  had  committed* 

On  tbe  decease  of  Henry  V.  in  1428,  bis  lordship  was 


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«76  BUTLER. 

continued  in  the  government  until  the  arrival  of  Edmond 
Mortimer,  Earl  of  March,  who,  in  \424,  appointed  him  his 
deputy.  In  1426  he  was  knighted,  together  with  the  young 
king,  Henry  VI.  by  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  the  King's  uncle, 
who  was  then  regent.  In  the  following  year  he  attacked 
Gerald  O'Cavenagh,  who  had  collected  a  number  of  forces 
for  the  purpose  of  invading  the  Pale,  and  caused  him  to 
forego  his  intention.  In  1440  he  was  again  appointed 
lord-lieutenant,  and  afterwards  lord  deputy,  and  obtained 
a  grant,  for  ten  years,  of  the  temporalities  of  the  arch- 
bishopric of  Cashel.  In  1444  he  assembled  at  Drogheda 
many  of  the  privy  council  and  nobility  of  the  Pale,  and  in- 
formed them,  that  having  filled  theofficeof  chief  governor, 
for  upwards  of  three  years,  the  king  hud  commanded  him 
to  repair  immediately  to  England  without  delay  or  excuse; 
he  therefore  requested  of  them,  that  they  would  declare 
in  the  presence  of  the  king's  messenger,  whether  he  had 
committed,  during  his  government,  any  extortion  contrary 
to  the  laws,  or  been  remiss  in  their  execution.  After  a  full 
consideration  of  his  conduct.  Sir  James  Allen  declared, 
that  no  one  could  complain  of  him,  but  all  were  thankful 
to  him  for  his  good  and  gracious  government ;  for  the 
pains  he  had  taken  in  defence  of  the  land,  in  which  he  had 
undergone  great  and  continual  labours  ;  and  had  also,  in 
addition  to  the  allowance  of  the  government,  expended 
much  of  his  private  property  in  the  execution  of  his  duties. 
It  was  thereupon  agreed,  that  if  he  were  then  to  leave  the 
country,  his  life  would  be  exposed  to  great  danger ;  and 
they  therefore  dispatched  a  messenger  to  the  king,  request- 
ing a  safe  conduct  for  him,  and  representing  that  there 
was  an  extensive  confederacy  to  destroy  bis  loyal  sub- 
jects, and  that  it  would  be  a  great  comfort  to  them,  and 
confusion  to  their  enemies,  if  his  majesty  should  not  insist 
on  the  Earl  of  Ormonde's  attendance  at  court  until  after 
the  harvest.  On  this  representation  the  king  dispensed 
with  his  attendance  in  England  ;  but  two  years  afterwards, 
on  a  petition  of  several  lords,  stating  "  that  he  was  old 
and  feeble,  and  bad  lost  many  of  his  old  castles  for  want 


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BUTLER.  «77 

of  defence,  and  therefore  was  not  likely  to  maintain,  much 
less  enlarge,  the  king's  possessions  in  Ireland  ;**  he  was 
dismissed,  though  most  of  the  barons  and  clergy  of  Ireland 
joined  in  a  full  testimonial  of  his  services.  In  the  follow- 
ing year  he  was  accused  of  high  treason  by  the  Earl  of 
Shrewsbury,  then  lord-lieutenant,  before  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  in  the  Marshal's  Court.  The  king,  however,  in- 
fluenced by  the  above  testimonial,  put  a  stop  to  proceed- 
ings; and  examining  the  cause  himself,  was  so  fully  con- 
vinced of  the  maliciousness  of  its  origin,  that  he  declared 
by  patent,'^  That  the  Earl  of  Ormonde  was  faithful  in  his 
allegiance ;  meritorious  in  his  services,  and  untainted  in 
his  fame ;  ihat  no  one  should  dare,  on  pain  of  his  indig- 
nation, to  revive  the  accusation,  or  reproach  his  conduct ; 
and  that  his  accusers  were  men  of  no  credit,  nor  should 
their  testimony  be  admitted  in  any  case."  A  writ,  reciting 
which,  signed  by  his  mortal  enemy,  Richard,  archbishop 
of  Dublin,  deputy  to  his  brother  Shrewsbury,  was  sent  to 
the  magistrates  of  Limerick  and  other  towns,  to  cause 
proclamation  thereof  to  be  made  throughout  the  kingdom. 
After  so  signal  a  victory  over  the  malice  of  his  accusers, 
he  appears  to  have  retired  entirely  from  public  life  until 
1452,  when  lie  undertook  an  expedition  against  Connor 
OMuIrian ;  on  his  return  from  which,  on  £3rd  August,,he 
died  at  Ardee,  and  was  buried  in  St.  Mary's  Abbey,  near 
.  Dublin.  He  was  celebrated  as  a  great  lover  of  antiqui^ 
lies,  and  during  his  residence  in  France,  Henry  V.  at  his 
recommendation,  first  created  a  king  of  arms  in  Ireland, 
to  which  office  he  appointed  John  Kiteley,  herald  in  Eng- 
land, by  the  title  of  Ireland  king  of  arms.  He  also  gave 
lands  to  the  College  of  Heralds,  for  which,  till  the  Refor« 
mation,  he  was  prayed  for  in  all  their  public  meetings ; 
and  has  since  been  constantly  remembered  as  a  special 
benefactor. 


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fl78 


RICHARD  BUTLER, 

Third  Viscount  MouNTGARESTy  a  nobleman  ofemi* 
nent  virtaes,  and  celebrated  in  the  history  of  Ireland  for 
bis  conduct  in  the  rebellion  of  1641,  was  the  eldest  son  of 
Edmond,  the  second  Viscount  Mountgarret.  He  mar- 
ried Margaret,  the  daughter  of  Hugh  O'Neal,  Earl  of 
Tyrone,  in  whose  rebellion  he  engaged  in  1599,  and  de- 
fended the  castles  of  Ballyraggett  and  Cullihil),  at  the 
head  of  his  own  dependants,  with  great  bravery  and  skill. 
He  was  afterwards  reconciled  to  the  government,  and  suc- 
ceeded to  his  paternal  estates  on  the  decease  of  his  father 
in  1005,  after  which  time  his  lordship  constantly  took  his 
seat  as  a  peer  of  parliament.  On  the  commencement  of 
the  great  rebellion  in  1641,  his  lordship  was  joined  in  com- 
mission with  the  Earl  of  Ormonde  in  the  government  of 
the  county  of  Kilkenny;  which  afterwards,  on  the  ad- 
vancement of  Ormonde  to  the  command  of  the  army, 
devolved  upon  him  alone.  A  report,  however,  which  was 
promulgated  at  the  commencement  of  1642,  of  the  deter- 
mination of  the  council  to  extirpate  the  religion  of  the 
church  of  Rome  and  its  professors,  induced  him  to  take 
up  arms,  and  embark  himself  and  his  family  in  a  firm  and 
decided  opposition  to  a  step  which  appeared  so  destruc- 
tive to  his  religion  and  interest ;  a  design  which  was  much 
facilitated  by  his  family  connections,  which  extended  to 
most  of  the  principal  inhabitants  of  the  county  of  Kil- 
kenny, who  were  readily  induced  by  bis  persuasions  to 
join  him  in  his  endeavours.  Attended  by  a  numerous  train 
be  advanced  to  the  city  of  Kilkenny,  which  he  took  pos- 
session of,  and  issued  a  proclamation,  strictly  enjoining  all 
his  followers,  neither  to  pillage  nor  hurt  the  English  inha- 
bitants, either  in  body  or  goods ;  a  precaution  essentially 
necessary,  and  which  had  the  effect  of  preventing  any 
excesses.  A  more  arduous  situation  than  that  which  his 
lordship  occupied,  can  hardly  be  imagined  ;  the  leader  of 
a  popular  commotion,  composed  of  such  various  materials. 


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BUTLER.  £7» 

and  resolved  to  control  the  exercise  of  tbeir  aknost  un* 
governable  passion  for  revenge  on  their  persecutors.  His 
humanity  prompted  him  to  preserve  the  protcstanfea,  and 
alleviate  their  distresses;  while  be  was  cootinually  ba- 
raased  by  the  opposite  party  to  proceed  with  severity 
'  against  them.  A  petition  was  presented  to  him  by  the 
captain  of  the  Irish  town  of  Kilkenny,  and  the  aldermen, 
requesiiag  him  to  punish  Philip  Purcdl,  Esq.  bis  son*in- 
la w^  for  relieving  tbe  fMTotestants;  and  on  a  subsequent 
occasion,  a  petition  from  the  titular  bishop  of  Cashel,  Sir 
Turiogb  O'Neiie  and  others,  requesting  that  tbe  Eaglisb 
protestaats  of  Kilkenny  should  be  put  to  death,  was 
Ibwarttd  solely  by  the  pi^rsiuasions  and  power  of  Lord 
MOuntgarret,  bis  son  Edmond,  and  bis  aoa-in*law,  Pur- 
cell.  His  popularity  at  this  time  was  so  great,  that  within 
a  week  from  his  arrival  at  Kilkenny,  almost  all  the  t;pw»s 
and  forts  in  tbe  counties  of  Kilkenny,  Waterford,  and 
Tipperary,  were  in  the  possession  of  his  friends.  He  was 
now  choaen  general  of  all  the  forces  of  that  district,  with 
which  he  marched  into  Munster,  where  he  besieged  and 
took  several  castles  of  great  importance :  but  tbe  county 
of  Cork  insisting  upon  appousting  a  general  in  tbeir  own 
province,  be  conceived  this  resolation  was  aimed:  princi- 
pally at  himself,  and  retired  with  his  forces  into  Letnster ; 
where  he  met  tbe  Earl  of  Ormonde  with  a  powerfa)  army, 
and  gave  bin  battle  at  Kilrnsh,  ho  tbe  county  of  Kildar^, 
on  10th  April,  l64£.  In  this  battle  he  was  completely 
defeated  $  which  compelled  him  to  retire  with  the  remains 
of  bis  scattered  forces  to  Kilkenny,  where  he  was  elected 
president  of  the  supreme  council  which  was  formed  there 
in  l64d»  In  tbe  follorwing  year  be  again  took  the  field, 
and  was  present  at  several  sieges;  particularly  at  that 
of  Ballynakill,  which  surrendered  in  May  1643,  after  a 
siege  of  nearly  eighteen  months.  He  continued  to  act 
throughout  the  whole  of  tbe  war,  and  was  particularly  dis- 
tinguished by  hia  gieat  moderation  and  care  of  the  protes- 
tantSy  who  found  in  him  a  steady  and  powerful  protector 
irom  the  misguided  zeal  of  some  of  bis  aisociaies.    He 


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480  BUTLER. 

died  in  1651,  and  was  boned  io  the  cbancel  of  St.  Caoicfe 
church* 

Variooa  as  the  dispositions  of  meni  and  the  accidents  of 
their  fortunes,  are  the  motives  which  induce  them  to  en- 
gage in  those  great  political  convulsions,  which  form  the 
terror  of  the  age  in  which  they  exists  and  constitute  the 
most  prominent  features  in  the  history  of  nations.  Acto^ 
ated  by  personal  motives,  revenge,  or  ambition,  many  are 
induced  to  take  up  arms;  while  others  are  influenced  by 
political  or  religious  bigotry;  and  some  feWf  more  enlight- 
ened, engage  themselves  and  their  property  in  the  public 
service,  for  the  purpose  of  securing  to  their  countrymen 
their  rights  as  men  and  as  citizens.  In  what  are  termed 
the  rebellions  of  Ireland,  all  these  incentives  no  doubt  had 
their  full  weight;  and  to  these  are  superadded,  a  national 
animosity  which  burnt  high  in  the  breasts  of  the  lineal 
descendants  from  the  ancient  kings  of  the  country,  who 
could  not,  with  calmness,  behold  themselves  dependant 
on  the  will  of  a  nation  which  they  regarded  as  inferior  to 
themselves,  and  base  in  its  origin.  In  engaging  in  the 
rebellion  of  Tyrone,  Mountgarret  probably  felt  with  some 
force  the  animating  influence  of  this  powerful  motive; 
the  flame,  though  smothered,  continued  still  to  burn  in 
his  bosom ;  and  when  he  saw  the  distresses,  privations, 
and  almost  ignominy  to  which  the  professors  of  the  ancient 
religion  were  exposed,  and  beheld  the  errors  and  insolence 
of  the  government,  and  of  those  who  were  entrusted  with 
the  execution  of  iu  commands,  he  became,  what  was 
termed,  a  rebels  from  principle :  but,  in  his  anxiety  to  alle^ 
viate  the  distresses  of  his  country,  he  refrained  from  add-* 
ing  to  those  of  his  political  opponents,  and  never,  even 
in  the  heat  of  action,  forgot  for  a  moment  the  dictates  of 
the  most  christian  charity. 


THOMAS  BUTLER, 

Gabl  of  Ossory,  is  a  name  that  fills  an  important 
space  in  the  list  of  those»  who,  in  different  ages,  have 


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BUTLER.  281 

embraced  the  profetsioo  of  arms,  with  every  diffipalty  and 
danger  attached  to  it,  arising  entirely  from  a  spirit  of 
enterprise  and  gallantry  implanted  in  them  by  nature,  and 
a  desire  of  no  other  recompence  for  their  services,  than  the 
jast  applaase  of  their  countrymen,  and  the  enrolling  their 
names  on  the  banners  of  fame.  He  w;|s  the  eldest  son  of 
the  celebrated  James,  Duke  of  Ormonde,  and  was  born  in 
the  castle  of  Kilkenny,  on  the  9th  of  July,  1634.  After 
having  received  an  excellent  education  both  in  England 
and  France,  he  resided  with  his  mother  in  London,  where, 
by  his  talents  and  modesty,  he  gained  the  esteem  of  persons 
of  all  ranks,  which  excited  the  jealousy  of  Cromwell,  that, 
on  some  pretence,  he  committed  him  to  the  Tower,  where 
he  was  confined  near  eight  months,  when  falling  ill  of  a 
fever  which  threatened  his  life,  Cromwell,  with  great 
difficulty,  consented  to  his  discharge;  and  his  physicians 
being  of  opinion,  that  a  change  of  air  and  climate  might 
re-establish  his  health,  he  withdrew  into  Flanders,  and 
from  thence  to  Holland,  where  he  married  Lady  Emilia 
Nassau,  daughter  of  Lord  Beserweest,  a  nobleman  of  the 
first  rank.  At  the  Restoration,  he  attended  the  king  to 
England;  and  in  1662  was  made  lieutenant-general  of 
horse,  and  succeeded  the  Earl  of  Montrath  in  his  regiment 
of  foot  and  troop  of  horse.  On  the  2tod  of  June  in  the 
same  year,  he  was  called,  by  writ,  to  the  house  of  lords  in 
Ireland,  and  on  the  l6th  of  August,  l663,  he  was  ap- 
pointed lieutenant-general  of  the  army  in  that  kingdom. 

His  entrance  into  the  naval  service  was  marked  with 
that  intrepidity  and  thorough  contempt  of  danger,  which 
was  ever  apparent  in  all  his  actions.  On  his  return  from 
Ireland,  in  May  1606,  he  paid  a  visit  to  the  Eari  of 
Ariington,  at  Euston,  in  Suffolk.  The  long  engagement 
between  the  Dqke  of  Albemarle  and  the  Dutch,  com- 
menced on  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  June,  and  the  earl, 
informed  of  this  event  by  the  report  of  the  cannon, 
repaired  instantly  to  Harwich,  where  he  embarked  the 
same  night  with  Sir  Thomas  Clifford,  in  search  of  the 
duke,  under  whom  he  intended   to  enrol  him9elf  as  a 


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€82  BUTLER. 

voknteer.  He  was  fortuoate  enough  to  reach  the  fleet  on 
the  evening  of  the  second,  and  was  a  welcome  guest^  as  he 
carried  iBformation  to  the  duke,  who  was  retreating  from 
the  very  superior  force  of  the  Dutch,  that  Prince  Rupert 
was  hastening  to  his  assistance,  and  might  be  hourly 
expected.  He  had  his  share  in  the  glorious  actions  of 
that  and  the  succeeding  day;  and  King  Charles  justly 
thought  this  singular  attention  to  the  interest  and  service 
of  his  country  so  meritorious,  that  after  his  return  from 
the  fleet  (on  board  of  which  he  continued  till  the  end  of 
i^ogust)  he  was  summoned  by  writ  to  the  house  of  peers, 
by  the  title  of  Lord  Butler,  of  Moor  Park,  on  the  14th  of 
September,  1666.  He  was  likewise  sworn  one  of  the  privy 
council,  being  then  one  of  the  lords  of  the  bedchamber, 
by  his  father's  resigoation.  He  bad  not  sat  six  weeks  in 
the  house,  before  he  called  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  to 
account,  for  saying,  on  the  debate  on  the  bill  for  prohibit- 
ing the  importation  of  Irish  cattle,  that  none  were  against 
it  but  such  as  had  Irish  estates  or  Irish  under standingg^ 
Lord  Butler  challenged  him,  and  they  were  to  have  met 
the  next  day^  lo  Chelsea  Fields;  but  in  his  stead,  about 
three  hours  after  the  time,  came  an  officer  with  a  guard, 
to  secure  him,  and  the  duke  would  have  shared  the  same 
fate,  had  be  not  fortunately  kept  oat  of  the  way.  The 
pext  morning  his  grace  complained  to  the  house  of  lords, 
of  a  breach  pf  privilege,  which  produced  a  fresh  dispute 
with  the  Earl  of  Arlington.  As  soon  as  the  king  was 
informed  of  this  complaint,  he  gave  orders  that  the  Earl 
of  Ossory  should  be  released,  who,  on  the  instant  of  his 
liberation,  went  direct  to  the  bouse  of  lords  to  make  his 
defence,  which,  however,  did  not  prevent  his  being  sent  to 
ibe  Tower;  and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  was  committed 
to  the  custody  of  the  usher  of  the  black  rod,  but  in  two 
di^s  they  were  both  released. 

,  In  October  1670,  he  was  sent  to  Holland,  to  brii^  over 
the  Prince  of  Orange.  At  the  close  of  the  same  year, 
perceiving  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  standing  by  tbe  king, 
be  went  boldly  up  to  him,  and  spoke  as  follows: — "  My 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


BUTLER.  «»5 

lordi  I  know  welt  that  yoa  are  at  the  bottom  of  this 
atlempl  of  Bk>od's  apon  my  father,  and  if  be  comes  to  a 
violeiit  end  by  any  means,  I  shaU  oonsider  you  as  th^ 
assassiD,  and  shall  pistol  yoa,  though  yoQ  stood  behind  the 
king's  obair,  and  1  tell  it  yon  in  his  majesty's  presence, 
that  yon  may  be  sure  I  shall  keep  my  word."  In  \G7^  he 
had  the  command  of  the  Resotutioa,  a  third-rate  man  of 
war,  and  was  second  in  command  of  the  smalt  squadron 
under  Sir  Robert  Holmes,  which  attacked  the  Dutch 
Smyrna  fleet,  in  the  month  of  March  in  that  year.  On  this 
ocoaston  he  displayed  his  usual  gallantry,  and  was,  in 
consequence,  honoured  with  the  highest  encomiums. 
From  the  Resolution  he  was  advanced  to  the  Victory,  and, 
on  the  28th  May,  1673,  was  in  the  action  off  SouthwoM 
Bay^  where  he  displayed,  in  an  eminent  degree,  both  skill 
and  courage,  and  as  one  of  the  seconds  of  the  Duke 
of  York  (who  is  admitted  by  all  parties,  to  have  behaved 
most  gallantly),  he  aocompanied  him  through  all  his  dan*^ 
gers,  when  deserted  by  the  French,  and  attacked  by  the 
united  squadrous  of  De  Ruyter  and  Banckert. 

On  the  30th  of  September  he  was  elected  knight  of  the 
garter,  and  in  the  November  following,  he  went  as  envoy- 
extraordinary  to  France,  with  compliments  of  condolence 
on  the  death  of  the  Duke  of  Anjou.  Early  in  the  month 
of  May  l673,  he  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of  rear^-admiral 
of  the  bhie  squadron,  by  the  special  appointment  of 
Charles  II.  who,  thinking  it  necessary  to  make  some 
apology  to  the  rest  of  the  service,  for  raising  so  young  an 
officer  to  so  high  a  post,  declared  he  did  it  in  consequence  of 
the  high  esteem  be  entertained  of  the  many  signal  services 
performed  by  the  earl  on  many  occasions,  as  well  in  hisf 
conduct  during  the  preceding  summer,  as  at  other  times. 
He  served  in  this  station  during  the  two  engagements  that 
took  place  between  Prince  Rupert  and  the  Dutch,  on  the 
£dth  of  May  and  the  4th  of  June.  Having  hoisted  his  flag 
on  board  the  St.  Michael,  be  was  very  soon  afterwards  pro» 
moted  to  be  vice-admiral  of  the  fed ;  and  it  was  to  the  gal-* 
lantry  of  the  Earl  of  Ossory,  that  the  "  Royal  Prince*'  was 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


«84  BUTLER. 

indebted  for  her  preservatioa*,  after  she  was  so  completely 
disabled,  so  as  to  compel  Sir  Edward  Spragge,  whose  ffag 
was  on  board  her,  to  quit  her  and  go  on  board  the 
St.  George,  shattered  as  she  was.  He,  however,  contrived 
to  bring  her  off  in  tow  at  night,  and  then  joined  Prince 
Rupert's  squadron.  Upon  this  his  lordship  was  promoted 
to  the  rank  of  rear-admiral  of  the  red,  and  on  the  10th  of 
September,  he  displayed  the  union  flag,  as  commander-in* 
chief  of  the  whole  fleet  in  the  absence  of  Prince  Rupert, 
by  the  king's  special  command.  With'  this  honourable 
appointment  his  naval  services  closed ;  peace  taking  place 
with  the  United 'Provinces  soon  after. 

His  lordship  had  equally  the  confidence  of  the  Duke  of 
York  and  of  the  king ;  and  this  in  their  private  as  well  as 
public  concerns,  as  appears  from  his  being  the  only  noble- 
man trusted  with  the  secret  of  the  duke's  first  marriage, 
and  the  person  who  actually  gave  Mrs.  Anne  Hyde  away. 
In  1674  he  was  sent  to  Flanders,  to  accelerate  the  marriage 
of  the  Lady  Mary  to  the  Prince  of  Orange.  And  in 
1675  he  was  made  one  of  the  lords  commissioners  of  the 
admiralty. 

It  is  curious  to  observe,  with  what  magic  the  different 
interests  of  political  states  convert  the  most  inveterate 
enemies  of  yesterday,  into  the  most  strenuous  supporters 
on  the  morrow.  The  earl,  who  so  lately,  in  alliance  with 
the  French,  had  exerted  his  talents  and  bravery  in  oppo* 
sition  to  the  United  Provinces,  now  assumed  a  military 
command  in  their  defence,  and  fought  against  his  former 
colleagues.  He  was  appointed  general-in-chief  of  bis 
majesty's  forces  in  the  service  of  his  Highness  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  and  the  states  of  the  United  Provinces ;  and 
upon  the  appearance  of  a  battle,  had  the  post  of  honour 
given  him,  with  a  command  of  six  thousand  men.    In  the 

*  ^Thd  great  aim  of  the  Dutch  admbral  was  to  siok  or  take  the  Royal 
Priace,  but  the  Earl  qf  Oisory  and  Sir  John  Kepthome,  together  with 
Spragge  himself,  so  eflTectaally  protected  the  disabled  vessel,  that  none  of  the 
d/s  fira-ships  coald  come  near  her,  though  this  was  oAeo  attempted.*^ 

Campbux. 


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BUTLER.  2B5 

oommeDcement  of  the  year  1678,  he  took  upon  himself  the 
command  of  the  British  subjects  in  the  pay  of  the  Sutes, 
and  at  the  dose  of  the  war  was  continued  in  his  command 
with  extraordinary  marks  of  honour  from  the  Stares- 
general.  In  the  progress  of  the  campaign  that  followed, 
be  greatly  distinguished  himself,  especially  at  the  battle  of 
Mons,  fought  on  theSrd  of  August,  wherein  he  commanded 
the  English  troops,  and  by  his  skill  and  courage,  contri- 
buted so  much  to  the  retreat  Marshal  Luxemburg  was 
obliged  to  mak^  that  the  States  of  Holland,  the  governor 
of  the  Low  Countries,  and  even  his  catholic  majesty  him- 
self thought  fit,  in  a  letter  under  his  hand,  to  acknowledge 
the  great  services  he  performed  in  that  action*. 

He  returned  to  Engtan(},«n  the  13th  of  September,  1678, 
but  did  not  long  live  to  enjoy  the  high  reputation  he  had 
gained  in  his  new  occupation.  He  was  attacked  by  a 
violent  fever  in  the  month  of  July  1680,  which,  after  a 
few  days  illness,  put  a  period  to  his  existence  on  the  30th 
of  the  same  month,  in  the  forty-sixth  year  of  his  age,  and 
on  the  following  evening  (fearful  of  infection)  his  body 
was  deposited  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

His  eminent  loyalty  and  forward  zeal  on  all  occasions, 
to  serve  his  country  and  his  sovereign,  was  evinced  by  a 
long  series  of  brave  and  perilous  services,  which,  as  diey 
rendered  him  both  honoured  and  esteemed  when  living, 
caused  him,  when  dead,  to  be  both  pitied  and  lamented. 

Hot  were  his  talents  less  in  the  senate  than  on  the  ocean, 
or  in  the  field.  His  speech,  addressed  to  the  Earl  of 
Shaftesbury,  in  vindication  of  his  father,  the  Duke  of 
Onnonde,  possessed  so  much  vigour  of  language,  and  was 
so  energetically  delivered,  that  it  even  confounded  that 

•  Extract  qfa  Utter  Jrom  St.  Demi,  dated  August  16,  N,  S. 

^  The  Earl  of  Otsory,  with  the  regiments  of  the  k'mg  of  Rngland't 
fobfects  niuler  his  command,  was  engaged  in  the  attack  on  tlie  side  of 
Castleham,  in  which,  as  well  the  officers  as  common  soldiers,  in  emulation  of 
liis  lordship's  example,  who  always  charged  with  them,  behaved  themselves 
with  the  greatest  courage  and  bravery." 

In  a  letter  from  the  Hague,  written  on  the  same  occasion,  is  the  following 
cipretfioo,  ^Tbe  Earl  of  Ossory  and  his  troops  did  wonders." 


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286  BUTLER. 

intrepid  orator,  add  was  so  oniversally  admired,  that  it 
was  transinitted  toHollaad,  aod  there  traQsIated  into  Dutch, 
upon  which  the  Prince  of  Orange*  as  a  mark  of  his  high 
esteem  for  the  Earl  of  Ossory,  wrote  his  lordship  a  com* 
mendatory  letter. 

His  generosity  was  like  his  talents — almost  hoondless, 
bat  at  the  same  time  exerted  to  noble  purposes,  and  on 
proper  occasions.  When  he  was  commander-in*chief  of 
the  English  brigade,  and  had  the  naming  of  the  officers  of 
akx  regiments,  be  evinced  his  diBinterestedness  io  pr^erring 
none  but  men  of  merit,  and,  at  the  same  time,  directed  his 
secretary  (Mr.  Ellis)  to  take  nothing  for  their  commissions; 
and  as  he  was,  by  this  arrangement,  deprived  of  a  con- 
siderable perquisite,  his  lordship  liberally  gave  him  the 
deficiency  from  bis  own  parse. 

A  judicious  and  elegant  character  is  given  of  him  by 
Granger,  who  informs  us,  that  when  his  father,  the  Duke 
of  Ormonde,  was  informed  of  his  death,  he  is  reported, 
amongst  other  things,  to  have  said,  '^  That  he  would  not 
exchange  his  dead  son  for  any  living  son  in  Christendom." 

He  was,  at  the  time  of  his  decease,  lieutenant-general 
of  his  majesty's  forces  in  Ireland,  lord  chamberlain  to  the 
queen,  one  of  the  lords  of  his  majesty's  most  honourable 
privy  council  io  the  kingdoms  of  England  and  Ireland^ 
one  of  the  lords  of  his  majesty's  bed-chamber,  and  knight 
of  the  most  noble  order  of  the  garter* 


JAMES  BUTLER, 
DuKB  OF  Ormonde.  This  illustrious  soldier,  who  united 
distinguished  bravery  with  consummate  skill,  was  de- 
scended from  the  renowned  family  of  Ormonde;  in  which 
talent  seemed  as  hereditary  as  titles  and  estates.  He  was 
born  in  the  eastle  of  Dublin,  on  the  ^th  of  April,  1665 ; 
and  at  the  age  of  ten  years  was  sent  to  France,  where  he 
remained  but  a  short  time,  returning  again  to  Ireland ; 
from  whence  he  was  sent  to  England,  and  placed  in  Christ 
church   college,  Oxford,  where  he  continued  until  the 


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BUTLER.  Ǥ7 

death  of  hh  faitiet.  At  the  age  of  seveote^  he  married 
the  dittighter  of  Lord  Hyde,  afterwards  £arl  of  Roobesier* 
Iq  1664  he  was  present  at  the  siege  of  Laxembiurgby  which 
commeoced  on  the  28th  of  April;  and  was  terfluoated, 
by  die  surrender  of  the  town,  on  the  7th  of  Jnoe  follow- 
jog.  The  year  following  death  deprrved  him  of  hi$  lady* 
Shortly  after  which  he  was  appointed  lord  of  the  bed^ 
dumber;  and  served  ^'  in  the  tented  field"  against  the 
Duke  of  Moomoath  io  the  west.  A  treaty  of  marriage, 
which  had  formerfy  been  entered  npoo,  was  now  revired 
and  happily  coodadfid,  between  him  and  Xiady  Mary  So^ 
merset,  daughter  to  the  Duke  of  Beaufort. 

On  the  28th  of  November,  l688,  be  was  elected  a  knight 
cormpaiiion  of  the  garter,  and  was  installed  on  the  5th  of 
April  following,  in  St.  George's  Chapel,  Wmdsor,  by  the 
Duke  of  Grafton  and  the  Earl  of  Roobester.  About  the 
same  period  he  was  elected  cbaooellor  of  the  university  of 
Oxford,  in  the  room  of  his  grandfather,  and  was  installed 
at  his  own  house  in  St.  James's  square.  On  the  17th 
of  December,  1688,  be  attended  King  James  to  Salis- 
bury,  near  which  place  he  had  fixed  the  rendezvous  of  fats 
army  ;  but,  on  the  king's  return,  he  joined  the  Prince  of 
Orange  at  Sherbourne  Castle,  and  entered  Salisbury  witb 
him.  From  which  city  the  Duke  of  Ormonde,  with  a  party 
of  the  prince's  troops,  went  to  Oxford,  and  caused  bis 
declaration  to  be  publicly  read  in  that  university.  After 
King  William  and  Queen  Mary  were  proclaimed,  and  the 
privy  council  chosen,  the  Duke  of  Ormonde  was  made 
one  of  the  lords  of  the  bedchamber,  and  attended  King 
William  to  Ireland.  He  was  present  at  the  battle  of  the 
Boyne ;  after  which  he  was  sent  with  niae  troops  of  horse 
to  preserve  the  tranquillity  of  Dublin.  Thither  he  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  king ;  and,  on  his  removing  westward,  was  sent 
by  his  majesty  from  Carlow,  with  a  party  of  horse,  to  take 
possession  of  Kilkenny,  and  to  protect  the  inhabitants 
of  the  adjacent  parts  from  the  depredations  of  the  enemy. 
Here  he  gave  a  splendid  entertainment  to  his  majesty,  at 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


288  BUTLER. 

the  castle  belonging  to  his  grace^  which  the  Count  Lau* 
zun  had  generously  protected  from  plunder^  so  that  he 
not  only  found  his  furniture  uninjured,  but  even  his  cellars 
well  stored  with  wine. 

After  the  campaign  was  over,  his  grace,  having  been 
named  one  of  the  privy  council  for  Ireland,  returned  to 
England  in  January  169 i*  He  attended  his  majesty  to' 
Holland  ;  and,  at  the  Hague,  where  there  ^as  a  meeting 
of  the  confederates,  during  which  period  his  grace  was 
remarkable  for  his  magnificence  and  splendid  hospitality. 
King  James,  intending  to  invade  England,  sent  over  a 
declaration,  in  which  he  set  forth  his  right;  inviting  all 
his  subjects  to  join  him  on  his  landing,  and  promising  a 
free  pardon  to  all  but  the  persons  therein  excepted  by 
name,  among  whom  was  the  Duke  of  Ormonde.  The 
duke,  however,  was  in  no  great  danger  of  falling  a  victim 
to  the  resentment  of  the  exiled  monarch,  his  hopes  being 
entirely  blasted  by  the  destruction  of  the  French  fleet  off 
Cape  Barfleut*,  and  at  La  Hogue. 

A  better  fortune,  however,  attended  the  French  arms  in 
Flanders,  in  1693,  at  the  battle  of  Landen ;  where  Luxem- 
burgh,  by  a  skilful  manoeuvre,  forced  the  camp  of  King 
W^iiliam,  a  position  esteemed  inaccessible.  His  majesty, 
during  the  whole  of  the  day,  behaved  with  uncommon 
gallantry,  charging  the  enemy  several  timesr  at  the  head  of 
his  troops.  The  Duke  of  Ormonde  likewise  displayed 
distinguished  courage  during  the  sanguinary  conflict, 
making  a  desperate  charge  at  the  head  of  one  of  Lumley's 
squadrons;  in  which  his  horse  was  shot  under  him,  and 
himself  wounded ;  when  a  soldier  was  on  the  point  of 
killing  him,  but  one  of  the  French  king's  guards,  seeing 
on  his  finger  a  rich  diamond  ring,  concluded  him  to  be  a 
person  of  distinction,  and  rescued  him  from  the  impend- 
ing danger.  After  the  battle  he  was  carried  to  Namure, 
where  great  care  being  taken  of  him,  he  was  soon  out  of 
danger.  Here,  with  his  usual  generosity,  he  distributed 
among  the  poor  prisoners  of  the  allied  troops,  who  were 


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BUTIER.  889 

Gonfioed  Id  the  town^  a  cbnaiderable  sum  of  money.     Hd 

tbortij  after  eiichang^  icir  the  D^ke  c^  Berwiqki  iwihQ 

L  taken  prisoner  by  JBr^^er'  CbqrbhiU. 

In  1694;  Charles  Boiler,  Esq.  his  grace's  brother,  was 

created  a  baron  of  Englandy  and  Earl  of  Arran  in  Ireland^ 

Oa  the  3rd  of  April,  1695>  be  embarked  at  Graven? nd 
with  the  king;  and  ^as  at  the  taking  of  Namure,  Wit^er^  he 
commanded  the  second  troop  of  guards,  and  provideptially 
escaped  un wounded,  he  being  often  exposed  to  the  de- 
structive fire  of  the  besieged,  and  many  b^ing  killed  around 
bim. 

In  1695  his  majesty,  in  his  progress,  designing  to  make 
a  visit  to  the  university  of  Oxford,  his  grace  sat  out  to 
receive. and  compliment  bim  as  .chancellor,  and,  after  the 
uanal  ceremonies  had  been  gone  through  of  presenting 
bis  majesty  with  a  large  English  Bible,  a  Common 
Prayer  Book,  the  plates  of  the  university,  and  a  pair  of 
gold  fringed  glpves,  a  sumptuous  entertainment,  and  a 
choice  concert  of  music  was  provided  ^  regale  his 
ma^sty,  as  they  expected  he  would  do  the  university  the 
honour  to  dine  with  them.  But  Boyer  relates,  that  the 
Dukeof  Ormonde  having  communioated  to  his  majesty, 
an*  anonymous  letter,  addressed  to  his  grace,  and  dropped 
in  the  street  the  day  before,  wherein  information  was 
given  of  a  pretended  design  to  poison  the  king  at  an 
entertainment,  bis  majesty,  without  reflecting  on  the 
groundlessness  of  a  report  which  was  undoubtedly  raised 
by  his  enemies,  resolved  neither  to  eat  nor  drink;  and 
immediately  took  bis  departure  for  Windsor,  declaring,  as 
a  reason  for  his  short  stay,  and  his  not  going,  to  see  the 
colleges,  that  ^'  this  was  a  visit  of  kindness,  not  of  curio* 
sity,  having  before  seen  the  university." 

King  William  died  on  the  8th  of  March,  1702;  and 
was  succeeded  by  Queen  Anne,  who,  shortly  after  her  acces- 
sion,  declared  the  Duke  of  Ormonde  commander-in-chief 
of  all  the  land  forces  to  be  employed  on  board  the  fleet. 

It  is  necessary,  however,  to  state,  that,  prior  to  King 
William's  death,  a  scheme  bad  been  concerted  to  besiege 

VOL.  1.  u 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


€90  BUTLER. 

Cadiz  by  sea  and  land*  This  plan  was  now  pot  in  eze^ 
cution;  and  the  Duke  of  Ormonde,  with  an  immense  force, 
sailed  with  Admiral  Sir  George  Rook,  on  the  intended 
expedition,  on  the  first  of  July;  and  on  the  8th  of  the 
same  month  were  obliged  to  put  into  Torbay,  on  account 
of  contrary  winds;  but  on  the  same  day  month  the  whole 
fleet  made  the  rock  of  Lisbon ;  and,  after  having  held 
several  councils  of  war,  the  Duke  gave  orders  for  landing 
the  ti;oop8  on  the  15th  ultimo,  which  orders  were  strictly 
obeyed;  and  every  battalion  acting  with  great  bravery, 
they  drove  the  Spaniards  before  them  in  all  directions. 
Upon  landing  his  grace  gave  the  strictest  orders,  upon 
pain  of  death,  that  the  inhabitants  should  in  no  ways  be 
plundered ;  and  then  marched  the  army  against  Port  St. 
Mary;  but  these  orders  were  very  ill  obeyed,  for  both 
the  soldiers  and  sailors,  being  both  thirsty  and  fatigued, 
got  to  the  wine  cellars,  where  they  drank  plentifully,  and 
immediately  both  commenced  plundering,  nor  was  it  in 
the  power  of  their  officers  to  prevent  them.  Aften^^ards 
his  grace  went  to  Vigo,  where  he  took  and  burnt  several 
of  the  enemy's  ships,  and  brought  away  an  immense 
booty  ;  the  galleons  that  were  then  in  the  harbour,  being 
very  richly  laden.  He  sailed  with  Sir  George  Rook,  on 
the  )9th  October,  for  England;  leaving  behind  him  Sir 
Cloudesley  Shovel,  with  about  twenty  ships,  to  watch  the 
station.  On  the  7th  of  November  following  he  arrived  in 
the  Downs,  and  the  same  day  landed  at  Deal.  He  arrived 
in  London  the  next  morning, -where  he  was  received  with 
great  and  deserved  marks  of  favour  by  her  majesty,  and 
with  the  loud  acclamations  of  the  populace.  On  the  14th 
of  the  same  month  the  queen  commanded  a  public  thanks- 
giving for  the  late  victories,  and  announced  her  intention 
of  attending  divine  worship  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  for 
that  purpose  on  the  15th  of  December. 

In  1703  his  grace  was  appointed  lord-lieutenant  of  Ire- 
land, and  on  the  20th  of  May  left  London  for  Chester  to 
embark  for  that  station;  where,  after  having  filled  the 
high  station  to  which  he  was  appointed  to  the  satisfaction 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


BUTLER.  «9l 

of  all  parties,  be  returned  to  England  in  March  1704;  but 
went  back  again  to  Ireland  on  the  loth  of  November  foU 
lowing.  He  arrived  a  second  time  in  England  in  the  year 
1705;  and  in  1708  was  sworn  a  privy  counsellor  of  the 
two  united  kingdoms,  England  and  Scotland.  On  the 
1st  of  October,  17 1 1,  his  grace  was  once  more  made  lord* 
lieutenant  of  Ireland ;  and  landed  at  Dunlany  on  the  Srd 
of  July  following,  and  proceeded  to  Dublin,  where  be  was 
received  with  unbounded  acclamations. 

The  Duke  of  Marlborough*s  conduct  having  displeased 
the  queen^  her  majesty  removed  him  from  all  his  employ- 
ments, and  nominated  the  Duke  of  Ormonde,  in  January 
1712,  commander-in-chief  of  her  majesty's  forces ;  and,  in 
February,  he  received  his  commission  of  captain^general, 
and  was  made  colonel  of  the  first  regiment  of  foot  guards. 
On  the  9th  of  April  he  proceeded  from  London  to  Flanders^ 
and  arrived  on  the  6th  of  May  at  the  city  of  Tournay, 
where  he  was  hospitably  entertained  by  the  Earl  of  Albe- 
marle, and  Prince  Eugene  of  Savoy.  On  the  25rd,  after 
having  viewed  the  fortifications  of  Douay,  he  reviewed 
the  right  wing  of  the  first  line  of  his  army ;  and,  after  the 
review,  entertained  the  Prince  Eugene  and  the  general 
officers  of  both  armies  at  dinner.  Upon  a  second  review 
of  the  army,  between  Douay  and  Marchiennes,  it  was 
found  to  consist  of  two  hundred  and  ninety-five  squadrons 
and  one  hundred  and  forty-three  battalions,  amounting  in 
the  whole  to  122,250  effective  men.  With  these  forces, 
the  generals  marched  towards  the  enemy ;  but  the  Duke 
of  Ormonde  declared  to  Prince  Eugene,  that  the  queen, 
having  a  prospect  that  the  negociations  of  peace  would 
prove  successful,  had  given  him  orders  not  to  act  offen- 
sively against  the  enemy,  but  that  his  orders  did  not 
extend  to  a  siege;  whereupon  the  confederates  set  down 
before  Quesnoy.  On  the  24th  of  June,  the  Duke  of 
Ormonde,  pursuant  to  the  orders  he  had  received  from 
court,  sent  to  Prince  Eugene,  and  the  deputies  of  the 
States  attending  the  army,  to  desire  a  conference  with 
ibem   the  oe;(t  day;  wherein  he  acquainted  them,  that 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


fige  BUTLER. 

he  had  received  orders  Trom  ber  majesty  to  publish^  wUhiR 
ihree  days^  a  ibspension  of  arms  for  two  months^  bet^e^ 
bis  army  aiifd  the  Preoch,  and  to  send  a  detacbinent  to 
take  posseeeion  of  Dunkirk^  which  place  the  King  of 
France  would  put  into  the  bands  of  the  English,  as  a 
security  for  the  performance  of  his  promises.  He  like- 
wise proposed,  that  the  tike  suspension  of  arms  should  be 
published  in  the  confederate  army.  He  suspended  for 
some  days,  when  the  allies  not^  agreeing  to  the  suspension, 
he  marched  oflF  with  the  British  troops;  of  which  the 
allies  soon  felt  the  fatal  eiSTects.  Their  army,  commanded 
by  the  Earl  of  Albemarle,  being  completely  routed  by 
Marshal  Villars ;  and  other  advantages  obtained  by  the 
enemy. 

On  the  £5th  of  June,  the  duke  sent  a  trumpet  to  Marshri 
Villars,  to  acquaint  him  that  he  had  received  a  cop^  of  the  ^ 
preliminaries,  signed  by  the  Marquis  de  Torcy. 

The  campaign  having  terminated,  and  both  the  French 
and  confederate  armies  going  now  into  winter  quarters, 
the  duke  thought  his  stay  in  the  country  was  no  longer 
necessary,  and  therefore  made  a  request  to  the  queen,  that 
he  might  have  leave  to  return  to  England.  Accordingly, 
on  2 1st  October,  Lord  Bolingbroke  sent  him  word  that  the 
queen  permitted  his  coming  home  as  soon  as  he  should 
think  fit;  in  consequence  of  which,  the  duke  set  sail  and 
landed  therein  on  the  1st  of  November ;  and  waited  on  the 
queen,  at  Windsor,  on  the  4th,  and  was  niost  graciously 
received. 

On  the  10th  June,  1713,  the  Duke  of  Ormonde  joined 
in  commission  with  the  lord  chancellor  and  lord  steward 
of  her  majesty's  household,  declared  and  notified  the  royal 
assent  to  several  acts  of  parliament. 

On  King  George  the  First's  accession  to  the  throne,  his 
majesty  sent  Lord  Townshend,  his  uew  secretary  of  state 
(having  before  his  arrival  removed  Lord  Bolingbroke)  to 
inform  his  grace  that  he  had  no  longer  occasion  for  his  ser- 
vices, but  would  be  glad  to  see  him  at  court.  His  grace  was 
also  left  out  of  the  new  privy  council ;  but  named  for  that 


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BUTLER.  9gs 

of  Irebmd^  The  piurty,  Tvhicli  bad  lately  been  kept  iinder, 
hsving  now,  in  a  great  measarey  engrossed  the  king,  to 
wbom  they  bad  long  before  his  accession  made  tbeir  coart, 
were  resolved  to  lay  the  axe  to  the  root>  and  to  put  it  out 
of  the  power  of  their  opposers,  ever,  for  the  future,  to 
break  m  upon  their  poftsessioa  of  tbe  royal  fiivoor;  in 
consequence  of  which  the  duke  was  impeached  of  high 
treason  by  Mr.  secretary  Stanhope.  Sdverat  spoke  in  be- 
half of,  his.  grace,  aoioog  whom  was  Sir  Joseph  JekylU 
Tbe  chike,  however,  did  not  think  it  advisable  to  attempt 
weathering  a  storm  whioh  he  saw  levelled  all  before  it, 
but  wkhdoew  privately  from  his  house  at  Richmond  to 
France;  prior  to  which,  by  authentic  ads,  he  resigned  the 
ehonoellarsbip  of  Oxfocd  and  the  higfakstewardship  of 
Westminster ;  to  both  which  dignities  his  brother,  the  Earl 
ef  ilrran,  was  elecled. 

.  His  grace  has  been  censured  for  thus  quitting  England ; 
bot  he  knew  too  well  who  were  bis  persecutors.  He  was 
tboro«ghIy  acquainted  both  with  their  principles  and  views ; 
and  was  too  wise  to  trust  bis  head,  not  to  their  mercy, 
hut  to  their  disposal.  As  soon  as  it  was  publicly  known 
that  the  duke  bad  withdrawn  himself,  on  the  5th  of  Augast^ 
articles  of  impeachment  were  read  against  him  in  the  house 
of  commons;  and,  shortly  after,  a  bill  was  brought  in  td 
summon  him  to  surrender  by  the  10th  of  September,  and 
Oft  defiiult  thereof  to  attaint  him  of  high  treason ;  which 
passed  both  houses,  and  received  tbe  royal  assent.  The 
Duke,  having  neglected  to  obey  this  summons,  the  house 
of  lords  ordered  the  earl  marshal  to  erdse  his  name  out  of 
tbe  list  of  peers.  His  arms  also  were  erased;  and  his 
achievements,  as  knight  of  the  garter,  wert  taken  down 
from  St.  George^s  chapel  at  Windsor.  The  commons  of 
Ireland  also  brought  in  a  bill  to  attaint  bim;  and  offered  a 
reward  of  10,000/.  for  his  bead.  Inventories  were  taken 
of  aU  his  personal  estate;  and  both  that  and  his  real, 
vested  in  the  crown. 

His  grace,  stripped  of  all  support,  and  in  a  foreign 
country^  was  under  the  necessity  of  entering  some  service 


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«94  BUTLER- 

for  subsistence.  He  was  not  long  in  FraDCe,  (wh^re  he 
had  taken  the  title  and  name  of  Colonel  Ck>merford,)  before 
he  had  an  invitation  from  the  court  of  Spain,  who  were 
eager  to  embrace  so  brave  and  skilful  a  commander, 
and  it  is  reported,  that  he  commanded  a  bodj  of  troops 
destined  to  make  a  descent  upon  England;  but  this  infor- 
mation rested  not  on  good  authority. 

His  grace  had,  from  the  court  of  Spain,  a  pension  of 
2000  pistoles,  and  he  chose  Avignon  for  his  retreat,  where 
he  lived  completely  secluded  from  the  world.  He  was 
here,  in  1741,  solicited  by  the  court  of  Seville  to  accept  a 
command,  but  he  excused  himself  by  alleging  his  great 
age  and  infirmities.  His  grace  was  here,  (as  throughout 
the  whole  course  of  his  long  life)  remarkable  for  his  bene- 
volence and  hospitality.  He  had  divine  service  performed 
in  his  house  twice  every  Sunday,  and  on  every  Wednes- 
day and  Friday  morning  throughout  the  year,  at  which  all 
his  protestant  tenants  were  obliged  to  be  present.  The 
sacrament  was  administered  to  the  family  once  a  quarter. 
He  never  prepared  for  bed,  or  went  abroad  in  the  morning, 
till  he  had  withdrawn  for  an  hour  in  his  closet.  He  bad 
public  assemblies  twice  a  week,  at  which,  though  he 
assumed  great  cheerfulness  and  pleasantry,  it  was  evident 
to  all,  that  it  was  merely  assumed  through  respect  to  his 
visitors. 

tn  October  1745  he  complained  of  a  loss  of  appetite, 
and  at  length  grew  too  weak  to  walk,  which  complaints 
increasing,  the  physician  who  attended  him  sent  for  two 
others  from  Montpelier,  and  after  a  consultation,  con- 
cluded on  taking  some  blood  from  him,  and  in  two  days 
afterwards  (Nov.  16),  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
he  quitted  this  world  with  the  consoling  hope  of  enjoying 
a  better.  His  body  was  embalmed,  and  brought,  the  May 
following,  through  France  to  England,  lodged  in  the  Jeru- 
salem chamber,  and  soon  after  interred  in  the  vault  of  his 
ancestors  in  King  Henry  Vfl.'s  chapel,  the  bishop  of 
Rochester,  attended  by  a  full  choir,  performing  the  cere- 
mony. 


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BUTTS.  295 

That  died,  in  his  eighty«first  year,  a  brave  soldier,  and 
prudent  general,  whose  reward  for  splendid  achievements 
was  a  thirty  years  exile. 

When  we  consider  the  difficult  part  he  had  given  him 
by  Queen  Anne  to  act  in  Flanders,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  he  was  an  individual  of  no  ordinary  powers, — suffice 
it,  however,  to  observe,  such  was,  and  such  will  be  the 
fate  of  those,  on  whom  the  sun  of  royal  favour  sheds  not 
his  benefic  beams. 

A  word  or  two  must  be  added  to  biographers.  It  is  an 
absolute  fact  that  only  one  biographical  dictionary*  can  be 
produced,  in  which  the  name  of  this  eminent  individual  is 
to  be  found.  And  it  is  to  be  hoped,  that,  after  this  uncon" 
tradktabk  declaration,  the  worthy  native  of  the  land  of 
Saints  will  be  ceased  to  be  laughed  at,  who,  compiling  a 
dictionary,  omitted  the  letter  S^  which  he  appeared  totally 
to  have  forgottenf* 


JOHN  BUTTS 
Was  a  native  of  Cork,  and  painted  figures  and  land- 
scapes. He  was  accustomed  to  paint  that  grotesque 
assemblage  usually  to  be  found  in  ale-houses,  on  panel, 
which  he  executed  with  great  ingenuity.  He  was  em* 
ployed  for  several  seasons  as  scene-painter  to  Crow 
Street  theatre,  when  that  establishment  was  under  the 
management  of  Spranger  Barry.  His  dbtresses  at  times 
were  so  numerous,  that  be  was  compelled  to  paint  signs, 
and  coach  panels  for  the  present  wants  of  a  numerous 
family. 

*  Flloyd's  Bibliotheca  Biographica,  a  weU  written  work  in  3  vob.  Svo. 
published  in  the  year  1700. 
t  PhiUp  FitigibboDy  an  eminent  mathematician. 


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996 


CHARLES  BYRNE 

Was  a  man,  ivfaose  powers  ever  might  be  truly  termed 
^r^at,  and  at  times  strildng.  H6  was  exactly  eight  feet 
hi^b',  and  after  his  decease,  which  occtkited  on  the  1st  of 
June,  1783)  he  measured  eight  feet  four  inches. 

His  death  is  said  to  have  been  precipitated  by  excessive 
drinking,  to  which  he  was  always  addicted,  but  thore  par- 
ticiillarfy  since  his  loss  of  all  his  property,  which  he  had 
invested  in  a  single  bank  note  of  700/. 

In  hid  last  moments  (it  has  been  said)  he  requested  that 
his  ponderous  renuiins  might  be  thr6wn  into  the  sea,  in 
6rd^  that  his  bones  might  be  placed  far  out  of  the  reach 
6f  the  chirurgiclal  fraternity;  in  consequence  of  which, 
the  body  was  shipped  on  board  a  vessel  to  be  conveyed  to 
the  Downs,  to  be  sunk  in  twenty  fathom  water. 

The  veracity  of  this  report,  however,  has  been  ques- 
tioned, as  it  is  well  known  at  the  time  of  Byrne's  decease 
he  excited  a  great  (feal  of  public  curiosity,  and  somebody 
IB-  suspected  of  having  invented  the  above,  to  aniuse 
thi^mselves,  and  thef  world  at  large. 

The  following  story  has  been  related  of  many  tall  men, 
bot  it  certainly  origmated  in  the  individual  now  before  us ; 
Being  necessarily  obliged  to  walk  out  very  early  in  the 
mornhig,  or  hot  at  all,  he  us^d  to  startle  the  watchmen, 
who  at  that  hour  were  parading  the  streets,  by  taking  off 
the  tops  of  the  fan^ps,  and  lighting  his  pipe  at  the  flame 
within. 


CHARLES  BYRNE 

Was  an  excellent  miniature  paints, and  born  ip  Dublin, 
in  which  city  he  died  about  the  year  1810.  He  practised 
during  a  short  time  in  London.— With  a  superior  under- 
standing and  much  benevolence  of  heart,  be  mingled  a 
dash  of  eccentricity,  which  not  unfrequently  drew  on  him 
the  animadversion  of  his  friends,  who  mistook   that  for 


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BYftNE-  ^7 

caprice  which  was  unhappily  a  constitutional  infirmity, 
and  which  settled  a  short  time  before  his  death  into  con- 
firmed insanity  .—And  many,  wli6  as  frienrfs  or  employers 
Imtc  hcen  gratified  wUIe  sittinfg  i&  hivtt^  or  wiih  him,  by 
bia.aBimitfed  flaw  of  conversation,  and  evident  exoeUenc^ 
of  feeling,  iday.. perhaps  leel  pleased  slwuld  this.di^t 
tobdte  to  his  mesiory  happen  to  mteet  their  observation. 


Mi3S r  BYRNE 

IVas  a  prototype  of  her  iUustrious  coaotrywoobao,  Conr 
stantia  Grierson,  as  in  the  dead  languages  we  are  fold 
^'she  wasorittC2lllycorrect,''and  wai  equally  well  grounded 
ill'  the  modem..  Her  attainments  were  not  solely  literary { 
th^  ttrinor,  (though  perhaps,  to  many)  the  more  imerestiojg 
ind  lUtrdctive  acocmplistiments  of  musie  and  iBs  sister 
lirt^  were  h^r'El  ia  perfeetio^^  She  was  Assessed  of  a  con* 
sidemblei  fohan^  but  sbe  vieM^ed  rkhes  as ,  the  me^uis  of 
doing  godd  to  others,  and  her  eonspicbous  superiority  to 
Ib^  gei^rality  of-  her  sexy  ^m  obsoured  by  her  excessWe 
d^denc^  arid  odooimcloasoess.  She  was  likewise  emi« 
laently  conspicuoiiis  in  the  exercise  of  every  cbristiaa 
tirtue. 

-  She  was  the  eldest  daughter  of  tbe  late  Robert  Byme^ 
E^q.  of  Cablufteely,  and  died  at  tbe  premature  age  of 
ntnfeteen,  in  18^14^  at  the  island  of  Madeira,  whidier  she 
had  repaired  for  the  benefit  of  her  health. 

"  When  age,  all  patient,  and  without  regret, 
lies  down  in  {feace,  and  ^ayv  fhe  general  debt, 
'^  weakneii  iMft  anmallf  to  deploie 
The  death  of  those  Who  relish  life  no  more ; 
But  when  fair  yonth,  that  eyery  promise  gave, 
Slieds  her  sweet  blossom  in  the  lasting  grave, 
Alt  eyes  o'^rflow  wiar  rinby  a  ittemoSag  ttn, 
And  each  sad  bosom  heaves  the  sigh  sineere." 


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«98  CURRAN. 


JOHN  PHILPOT  CURRAN. 

This  htgh-gifted  individoal,  whose  genias,  wit,  and 
eloquence  have  rendered  him  an  ornament  to  his  age  and 
country,  affords  a  striking  instance  of  the  buoyancy  of  a 
superior  mind  on  the  flood  of  early  adversity;  and  which, 
in  spite  of  all  impediments,  raised  him  fmm  the  humblest 
state  of  friendless  obscurity,  not  only  to  one  of  the  highest 
stations  in  the  legal  profession  which  he  adorned,  but  to 
the  most  honourable  distinctions  of  an  independent  senator 
and  incorruptible  patriot. 

Mr.  Curran  was  not  a  descendant  from  Irish  ancestors ; 
his  first  paternal  stock,  in  the  country  so  justly  proud  of 
his  name,  was  a  sdon  from  a  northern  English  family, 
named  Cubwen  ;  who  found  his  way  to  the  sister  island 
as  a  soldier,  in  the  army  of  Cromwell ;  but,  from  the 
humble  fortunes  of  his  posterity,  he  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  enriched  by  the  spoils  of  the  land  he  helped  to 
subjugate,  like  many  other  adventurers  in  the  train  of  the 
usurper,  whose  descendants  have  long  stood  high  in  rank 
and  fortune.  Little  more  is  known  of  the  ancestry  of  this 
eminent  man,  than  that  his  father  James  Curran  filled  the 
humble  office  of  seneschal  in  the  manor  court  of  New- 
Market,  in  the  county  of  Cork,  the  scanty  emolument 
from  which,  with  the  produce  of  a  small  ftirm,;  were  his 
only  resources  for  the  maintenance  of  a  growing  family. 
The  maiden  name  of  his  wife  was  PhilpoL  She  was 
descended  of  a  respectable  stock  in  that  county,  and 
although  John,  her  eldest  son,  who  bore  also  the  name 
of  his  mother  as  an  additional  prenomen,  could  boast  no 
hereditary  talents  on  the  side  of  his  father,  whose  educa- 
tion and  capacity  were  as  humble  as  his  rank  ;  he  derived 
from  his  mother  that  native  genius,  which,  moulded  by 
her  early  example,  and  cherished  by  her  instruction,  laid 
the  basis  of  that  celebrity  which  afterwards  so  highly  dis- 
tinguished her  favourite  boy.  Though  young  Curran 
from  the  first  dawn  of  intellect  in  bis  puerile  days,  gave 


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CURRAN.  299 

f&minent  proofs  that  the  seedd  of  wit  and  talents  were 
not  sparidgly  sown  in  his  composition^  the  humble  cir« 
cumstances  of  his  parents  afforded  no  prospect  of  an  edu- 
cation to  bring  out  the  native  Instre  of  his  capacity;  and 
but  for  circumstances  wholly  fortuitous^  he  might  have 
lived  and  died  with  fame^  no  higher  than  that  of  a  village 
wit,  and  the  chance  of  succeeding  to  his  fatherVoiBce. 

Such  might  have  been  the  fate  of  Curran,  were  he  placed 
in  any  soil  less  congenial  to  the  growth  of  his  young  intet-* 
lect^or  any  guidance  less  favourable  than  that  of  a  mother, 
whose  native  capacity  was  his  best  inheritance,  whose  cul- 
ture *^  taught  his  young  ideas  how  to  shoot,"  and  whom 
he  loved  and  venerated  to  the  latest  hour  of  his  exigence. 
The  village  school  received  him  as  an  early  pupil,  where 
he  soon  evinced  a  capacity  superior  to  his  little  ragged 
companions;  and  in  the  hours  of  play  he  proved  his  supe- 
riority in  all  the  variegated  sciences  of  marbles  and  chuck- 
farthing,  and  evinced  a  sportive  fancy  in  all  the  arch 
pranks,  and  practical  stratagems  of  the  play-ground.  His 
father,  even  if  he  had  capacity,  had  little  leisure  to  attend 
to  the  progress  of  his  son's  education.  The  youngster  was 
therefore  left  to  follow  his  own  devices,  snd  pursue  the 
bent  of  his  humour  in  ev^ry  species  of  lively  fun  and  arch 
eccentricity.  At  fairs,  where  wit  and  whiskey  alternately 
excited  the  laugh  and  the  wrangle ;  at  wakes,  the  last  social 
obsequies  to  the  dead  in  the  village,  at  which  sorrow  and 
mirth  in  turns  beguiled  each  other,  young  Curran  was 
always  present*— now  a  mime,  and  now  a  mourner.  The 
prophecies  of  the  more  serious  began  to  augur  most  unfa* 
vourably  to  the  future  fortunes  of  young  Pickk,  while  he 
was  the  favourite  of  all  the  cheerful.  The  court  of  his 
father  was  quite  scandalised,  but  all  acknowledged  him  the 
legitimate  heir  of  his  mother's  wit.  A  new  scene,  how- 
ever, occurred  in  the  amusements  of  the  village,  in  which 
yoQDg  Curran  made  his  d6bui  as  a  principal  actor  with 
much  eclai  to  his  comic  fame,  and  which  through  life  he 
took  great  pleasure  to  relate  as  one  of  his  first  incentives 
to  eloquence,  especially  to  that  part  of  it  which  Demos" 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


SOQ  CURRAN. 

tketies  urg^a  as  the  first,  second,  and  third  essential  to  the 
success  of  aa  orator, — namely,  action.  The  itinerant  ex^ 
bibitor  of  a  street  puppet-show,  in  the  course  of  his  tour, 
arrived  at  New-Market>  much  to  the  edification  and  amuse- 
ment of  the  staring  crowd;  and  the  comic  feats  of  Mr* 
Punch,  and  the  eloquence  of  his  man,  superseded  every 
other  topic  of  conversation.  Unfortunately,  however,  the 
second  named  actor  in  this  drama  was  seized  with  sickness, 
and  the  whole  establkfament  was  threatened  with  rujur 
But  little  Philpot,  who  was  a  constant  member  of  the 
aa«htory,  and  eagerly  imbibed  at  eyes  and  ears. the  whole 
exhibition,  proposed  himself  to  the  manager,  as  a  volnn-' 
teer  substitute  for  Punch's  man.  This  ofifer  from  so  young; 
and^  promising  an  amateur ,  was  gladly  accepted  by  the 
manager,  who  was  well  aware  of  tlie  advantages  of  an  arch 
young  comedian,  acquainted  with  all  the  characters,  and 
local  history  of  the  place ;  but  the  young  actor  declined 
salary,  and  only  stipulated,  that  he  should  remain  per- 
fectly incog,  and  that  his  name  was  not  to  be  known, 
which  condition  of  the  treaty  the  manager  faithfully  kept. 
The  success  of  the  substitute  was  quite  miraculous;  iook* 
mense  crowds  attended  every  performance;  the  new  actoc 
Was  universally  admired,  and  the  crouded  audiences  were 
astonished  at  the  knowledge  be  displayed.  He  developed 
the  village  politics,  pourtrayed  all  characters,  descdbed 
tibe  fairs,  blabbed  the  wake  secrets,  caricatured  the  spee^ 
tators,  diselo^  every  private  amour,  detailed  all  the 
seandal  of  the  village,  and  attadced  with  hnmorous  ridicule 
even  the  sacerdotal  dignity  of  the  parish  priest.  But  this 
was  the  signal  for  general  outcry  ;  satire  bad  transgressed 
its  due  limits ;  and  men  and  nwideps  who  laughed  at  theif 
neighbour'^  pictures,  and  pretended  to  recognise  their 
own,^  were  horrified  at  such  pro£fene  familiarity  with  the 
clergy.-  ReKgion,  as  on  larger  tluatrcsi, .  wa»  the  scape;* 
goaC,  and  sentence  of  punisbmeBt  was  unanimously  passed 
on  Mr;  Pnaob  and  his  man ;  tbe  manager,,  however,  kept 
tbe  graud  secret,  and  bb  prudence  psevented  any  inquiry 
after  sudh  dangerous  eelebrity,  and  Corran,  who  was 


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CURRAN.  301 

through  life  in  his  convivial  hours^  the  soul  of  mirth,  fre'- 
qaently  declared  that  he  never  produced  such  an  effect 
iipon  any  audience  as  in  the  humble  character  of  Mr* 
Punch's  man. 

As  years  advanced,  the  chance  of  better  fortune  began 
to  dawn,  and  the  reader  shall  have  the  first  auspicious, in* 
cident  in  his  own  words :— '^  I  was  at  this  time  a  little 
ragged  apprentice  to  every  kind  of  idleness  and  mischief: 
all  day  studying  whatever  was  eccentric  in  those  older, 
and  half  the  night  practising  it  for  the  amusement  of  those 
who  were  younger  than  myself.  Heaven  only  khofi^s 
where  it  would  have  ended;  but,  as  my  poor  mother  said^ 
'  I  was  bom  to  be  a  great  man.' 

^'  One  morning  while  playing  at  marbles  with  my  ragged 
playmates  in  the  village  ball-court,  the  gibe  and  the  jest^ 
and  the  plunder  went  gaily  round ;  those  who  won,  laughed, 
and  those  who  lost,  cheated.  Suddenly  a  stranger  appeared 
amongst  us  of  a  venerable  but  cheerful  aspect.  His  ap* 
pearance  gave  no  restraint  to  our  merry  assemblage.  But 
he  seemed  pleased  and  delighted.  He  was  a  benevolent 
creature,  and  the  days  of  infancy  (after  all,  the  happiest 
of  our  lives)  perhaps  rose  to  his  memory.  God  bless  him ! 
I  think  I  see  his  form  at  the  distance  of  half  a  century, 
just  as  he  stood  before  me  in  the  ball  court.  His  name 
was  Boyse ;  he  was  the  rector  of  New-Market ;  to  me  he 
took  a  particular  fancy ;  I  was  winning,  and  full  of  wag-* 
gefy,  thinking  and  saying  every  thing  eccentric,  and  by 
no  means  a  miser  of  my  flashes.  Every  one  w^  welcome 
to  share  them,  and  I  had  plenty  to  spare  after  freighting 
the  company.  Some  sweet-cakes  easily  bribed  me  home 
with  him ;  be  seemed  delighted  with  the  casual  acquireitent 
of  sueh  a  disciple ;  he  undertook  my  tuition,  taught  me 
my  grammar  and  classical  rudiments;  and  having  taught 
me  all  he  had  leisure  to  teach,  he  sent  me  to  the  classical 
school  of  a  Doctor  Carey,  at  Middleton,  where  my  young 
capacity  received  the  first  stimulus  of  effective  advaoci^- 
ment,  to  which  I  am  indebted  for  all  my  better  fortune  in 
life." 


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302  CURRAN. 

At  this  school  young  Curraa  became  the  class-fellow  of 
some  young  tt/ros^  not  then  of  prospects  much  superior  to 
his  own;  but  who  afterwards  in  life  experienced  elevated 
fortunes,  and  became  his  intimate  and  attached  friends. 
At  this  school  also  the  promising  proofs  of  young  Currants 
capacity  attracted  the  benevolent  protection  of  a  generous 
lady,  appositely  named  Allworthy^  who  undertook  to  bear 
the  charge  of  his  education;  and  in  the  family  of  this 
amiable  gentlewoman,  to  whom  he  was  distantly  related 
through  his  maternal  connection,  and  also  in  the  family  of 
the  Wrixons  and  others  of  highly  respectable  rank  in  that 
part  of  the  county,  he  was  received  as  a  welcome  visitant, 
not  only  during  his  scholastic  years,  but  afterwards  during 
his  college  vacations;  and  here  it  was,  as  he  himself 
frequently  declared,  that  he  formed  the  first  notions  of  elo<> 
quence. 

The  wakes^  that  is  to  say,  the  assemblages  of  the  neigh- 
bours in  melancholy  convention  round  the  bodies  of  the 
deceased,  during  the  nights  that  pass  between  death  and 
interment,  form  no  inconsiderable  part  in  the  occasional 
amusements  of  an  Irish  village,  and  no  incurious  charac- 
teristic in  the  customs  of  the  country.  The  body  of  the 
deceased  is  laid  out  in  a  large  room  upon  a  bedstead  or 
table,  and  covered  by  a  sheet  with  the  face  only  exposed; 
sprigs  of  rosemary,  mint,  and  thyme,  flowers  and  odorous 
herbage  are  spread  over  the  coverlid,  and  the  corpse  is 
surmounted  by  plates  of  snufF  and  tobacco  to  regale  the 
visitants.  Tobacco  pipes  are  plentifully  distributed  for  the 
purpose  of  fumigation,  and  to  counteract  any  unwholesome 
odours  from  the  dead  body.  In  the  ancient  Irish  families, 
or  those  wherein  civil  refinements  have  not  exploded  old 
customs,  ^200  and  sometimes /our /entafe  bards  attend  oq 
those  mournful  occasions,  who  are  expressly  hired  for  the 
purpose  of  lamentation:  this  is  probably  a  relique  of 
druidical  usage  coeval  with  the  Phoenician  ancestry ;  and 
they  sing,  by  turns,  their  song  of  death  in  voices  sweet  and 
piercing,  but  in  tones  the  most  melancholy  and  affect- 
ing.   They  string  together,  in  rude  extempore  verse,  the 


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CURRAN.  SOS 

genealc^  and  family  history^  and  they  re€Ount  all  the 
exploits,  the  virtues,  and  even  the  very  dresses,  conversa- 
tions, and  endearing  manners  of  the  deceased.  To  those 
who  understand  these  funereal  songs,  for  they  are  chaunted 
in  Irish,  the  scene  is  deeply  affecting,  and  even  with  those 
who  do  not,  the  piercing  tone  of  grief  excites  the  deepest 
sympathy,  and  the  whole  assemblage  are  bathed  in  tears : 
great  numbers  of  candles  are  lighted  in  the  room,  and 
every  thing  wears  the  aspect  of  melancholy.  But,  to 
relieve  the  mourners  from  the  woe-fraught  scene,  an  adja- 
cent room  is  appropriated  to  purposes  directly  opposite, 
as  if  to  banish  the  woe  excited  in  the  first.  Here  there 
appears  a  display  of  different  ages,  characters,  and  passions, 
all  the  young  and  the  old;  the  serious  and  the  comical; 
the  grave  and  the  gay  of  the  lower  classes  assemble.  No 
where  does  the  real  genius  and  humour  of  the  people  so 
strongly  appear,  tragedy,  comedy,  broad  farce,  pantomime, 
match-making,  love-making,  speech-making,  song-making, 
and  story-telling,  and  all  that  is  comical  in  the  genuine 
Irish  character,  develop  themselves  with  the  most  fantasti- 
cal  freedom  in  the  rustic  melo-drame;  the  contrasted  scenes 
succeed  each  other  as  quick  as  thought;  there  is  a  melan- 
choly in  their  mirth,  and  a  mirth  in  their  melancholy,  like 
that  which  pervades  their  national  music,  and  the  opposite 
passions  alternately  prevail,  like  light  and  shade  playing 
upon  the  surface  of  a  sullen  stream.  The  people*  come 
many  miles  to  one  of  those  serio-comic  assemblies;  refresh- 
ments of  cakes,  whiskey,  and  ale  are  distributed  between 
the  acts  to  the  visitants,  who  sit  up  all  night;  but  the 
grand  feast  is  reserved  to  precede  the  funereal  obsequies. 
A  whole  hecatomb  of  geese,  turkies,  fowls,  and  lambs  are 
sacrificed  some  days  before  for  the  occasion,  and  the  friends, 
acquaintances,  and  neighbours  of  the  deceased  are  regaled 
with  an  abundant  cold  collation,  and  plenty  of  ale,  spirits, 
and  wine:  while  the  company  of  the  lower  order  assemble 
in  the  exterior  barn  or  court-yard,  and  are  feasted  with 
baskets  of  cakes  and  tubs  of  ale.  When  the  funeral  sets 
out  for  the  place  of  interment,  the  road  for  miles  is  covered 


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904  CURBAN. 

I 

hfiBLn  imperTioiis  crouds  horee  aad  foot»  sometime  to  tth^ 
niuoher  of  jMveral  thottsadds,  esp^ially  if  the  dec^eied^be 
a  ^Irsonln  ordiDary  respect  or  esiteem  with  his  oeigbbouvs; 
Tbis  ftardf  before^meDtioned  form  die  ptobeaiico^  and^nait 
IDlervalSy  reoew  the  hyaui  of  ^rief,  which  it^sbokussed  by 
ibe  whole  crood^  with  shovts  of  ''  UliUf/'  thfit  rend:  the 
skies, 

Scenes  of  this  sort  were  peculiarly  gesmaiDe  to  ibe 
eoqeotric  taste  of  youDg^urran;  his  whole  mind  and 
heart  entered  into  the  spirit  of  them ;  he  saw  in  them  aH 
the  vai^ieties  of  whim,  and  humonr,  and  passion  in  t  the 
national  charaoteir,  and  here  he  fielt  the  first  impulse  oi 
those  Jtransports  which  seized  on  his  imagination,  and 
induced  hini  to  cultivate  the  pursuit  of  eloquence^ 

While  he  attended  the  wake  of  a  wealthy  person,  who^ 
by  his  last  will,  had  distributed  amongst  his  favouiite 
kindred,  his  fortune  and  effects,  the  legatees  were  c«i- 
spicuoits  in  their  sorrows,  and  lavish  in  their  praises  to  his 
merits;  they  measured  their  eulogies  by  bis  bounties,  and 
their  funeral  orations  kept  pace  with  the  value  of  bis 
bequests :  but  the  last  who  came  forward  on  this  occaskm 
was  a  woman  of  portly  stature  and  elegant  shape;  her  long 
hlack  hair  flowed  loosely  down  her  shoulders ;  her  datk 
eyes  teemed  with  expression,  and  her  whole  manner  was 
sedate,  but  austere  and  majestic.  She -had  married  with* 
'  out  the  consent  of  the  deceased,  who  was  her  uncle;  she 
had  been  his  favourite  niece,  but  she  had  followed  the 
impulse  of  lovie  in  the  choice  of  .a  husband :  she  was  nam 
a, widow  with  many  childpen :  her  offended  kinsman  carried 
his  resecitment  to  the  grave,  and  left  her  poor  and  uapro* 
vtded.  She  had  sat  long -in  silence;  and  at  length  rose, 
^nd  with  slow  and  measured  pace  approached  her  dead 
uncle.  She  calmly  laid  ber  hand  upon. his  forehead,  and 
paused ;  vtbilst  all  present, expected  a  passionate  display  of 
bef  anger  and  disappointment,  she  addressed  herself  to  .the 
dead  in  these  few  ^ords ;  ^^  Those  of  my  kindred  who  have 
uttered  praises,  and  poured  them  forth  with  their  tears  .to 
the  memory  of  the  deceased,  did  only  what  they  owed  him 


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CURRAN.  305 

niider  tbeweight  ofobl^ations.  Tbey  bav6  been  benefited, 
they  have  in  their  different  degrees  partaken  that  bounty 
which  he  could  no  longer  withhold.  During  his  life,  he  for- 
got to  exercise  that  generosity  by  which  his  memory  might 
now  be  embalmed  in  the  hearts  of  disinterested  affection. 
Such  consolation,  however,  as  these  purchased  praises 
could  impart  to  his. spirit,  I  would  not,  by  any  im(Mety 
tear  from  him.  Cold  in  death  is  tbb  head,  but  not  colder 
than  that  heart,  when  living,  through  which  no  thrill  of 
nature  did  ever  vibrate.  This  has  thrown  the  errors  of  my 
youth,  and  of  an  impulse  too  obedient  to  that  affection 
which  I  still  cherish,  into  poverty  and  sorrow,  heightened 
beyond  hope  by  the  loss  of  him  who  is  now  in  heaven,  and 
still  more  by  the  tender  pledges  he  has  left  after  him  on 
earth.  But  I  shall  not  add  to  these  reflections  the  bitter 
remorse  of  inflicting  even  a  merited  calumny;  and  because 
my  blood  coursed  through  bis  veins,  I  shall  not  have  his 
memory  scored  or  tortured  by  the  expression  of  my  disap- 
pointment, or  of  the  desolation  which  now  sweeps  through 
my  heart.  It  therefore  best  becomes  me  to  say,  that  bis 
faith  and  honour,  in  the  other  relations  of  life,  were  just 
and  exact,  and  that  these  may  have  imposed  a  severity  on 
his  principles  and  manners.  The  tears  which  dow  swell 
my  eyes,  I  cannot  check,  but  tbey  rise  like  bubbles  in  the 
mountain  stream^  and  burst,  to  appear  no  more." 

Such  was  the  pathetic  oration  from  which  Mr.  Curran  ac- 
knowledged to  have  caught  the  early  flame  of  his  eloquence; 
and  no  where  does  the  pabulum  of  natural  eloquence  more 
abound,  than  in  the  very  region  of  his  birth  and  education. 
Commerce  or  refinement  had  not  yet  polished  away  the 
feelings  of  the  heart,  and  every  passion  of  the  soul  held 
undiminished  vigour  in  the  popular  mind  :  the  barbarous 
only,  because  obsolete  language  of  their  Celtic  ancestors 
(the  most  copious  on  earth,  if  the  learned  Colonel  Val« 
LANCEY  deserves  credit)  had  not  yet  vanished.  Those 
who  relish  the  language  of  Ossbn,  can  form  some  judg« 
ment  of  the  style  and  idiom  common  in  the  dialect  of  the 
Munster  peasantry, 

VOL.  1.  X 


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906  CURRAN. 

Tbe  learned  tdll  as,  that  dl  tfae  seeds  of  geonUie 
eloquence  are  most  TigorotiB  amohgst  earage  natioos^  and 
that  the  vigorous  mbd,  crampt  by  tbe  paucity  of  a  limited 
iangiiage,  finds  vent  for  its  feelings  in  figures  and  epithets 
infiniteiy  more  forcible  and  expressive  than  tlie  copiosis 
dialects  of  pdisfaed  nations  can  famish.  Bot  with  tbe 
peasantry  of  Ireland,  wliere  theirnative  language  is  fluently 
spoken^and  particularly  in  Monstery  the  extreme  oopiocn- 
«ess  of  their  mother  tongue  has  by  no  means  diluted  tbe 
strength  of  expression;  for  when  once  their  passions  «re 
roused  or  interested,  their  whole  dialect  becomes  a  txirrent 
of  thoughts  *'  rtiat  flow,  and  words  that  burn,''  aceompa- 
nied  by  the  most  forcible  expression  of  the  dnintenaoce, 
and  action  of  the  whole  frame :  all  the  wiM  Aowers  of 
rhetoric^  unforflaed  indeed  by  die  band  of  criticism,  seem 
wholly  at  tfae  speaker's  command;  and  wbetber  j^  or 
grief,  love  or  hatred,  rage  or  kindness,  pity  or  fereoge 
be  the  predoannant  passion  of  tfae  momenft,  all  the  fiseol- 
ttes  of  ■rind  and  bo^y  are  in  unison  to  give  it  the  most 
nataral  aiMl  strenuous  expression. 

Every  thing  marks  tbe  strength  of  miwl  and  depth  of 
fediog,  and  the  wildest  language  of  hyperbole  seeoM 
seaicely  adequate  to  vent  the  labouriog  thought.  Shrewd 
in  their  observation,  keen  and  humorous  in  their  ridicule, 
caustic  in  their  sarcasms,  generous  to  their  friends,  fierce 
with  their  enemies,  quick  of  irritation,  and  easy  of  reoon- 
eiiement;  vengeful  to  oppression,  faithful  and  affectionate 
to  lenity  and  justice.  In  th^  joy,  extravagant;  in  their 
grief,  tender  and  pathetic.  Their  kindness,  honey;  their 
maledictions,  gall.  Their  hospitality,  proverbial ;  their 
•courage,  graven  upon  the  annals  of  every  nation,  needs  no 
panegyric;  and  their  patience,  almost  miraculous  under 
sufferings  and  privations,  unparalleled  in  any  other  civi- 
lized country,  are  perfectly  inconceivable  to  the  majority 
of  the  people  of  England,  who  are,  perhaps,  better 
-apquainted  with  the  state  of  their  fellow  subjects  in 
Canada  orChina-Tartary,  than  of  those  in  t)ie  Irish  branch 
of  the  United  Kingdom. 


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CURRAN.  m 

It  is  therefore  not  to  miraralovs  If  a  mibd  like  Cttmm*S| 
dfMiktBg  from  ittoh  a  foUntaiii^  mctA  nortnr^  amid  t^h 
iaimcoufaep  should  be  readily  susceptible  of  the  poUsbtng 
ioflo^ooe  of  clasfiio  literlit«re>  of  ^hidi  be  wMs  a  maiterk 
A  thoOsaod  getM  of  the  same  waiwr  are  still  to  be  fouud  in 
the  s&me  miii^  did  tbej  meet  with  the  same  skill  to  briog 
out  their  lustre. 

Frotn  the  school  at  MiddletoD,  young  Curran  was  tmti^ 
planted  to  Trinity  College,  where  he  entered  as  a  siaar  M 
the  16th  of  June^  1767,  voder  the  tutorage  of  the  learned 
Doctor  Dobbyn,  and  obtained  the  second  plMt  on  his 
entrance:  but  two  years  elapsed  before  be  acqniti&d  his 
scholarship  of  tbehoasei  bnt  this  dot  owing  to  dullness  of 
idleness,  but  by  die  number  of  senior  candidates  for  the 
Taeaticies  which  occurred  in  the  time*  His  ootemporarle^ 
at  college  recollect  nothing  extraordinary  to  distinguish 
his  progress  there)  he  was  never  eminent  for  his  apparent 
application  to  hit  studies,  nor  ambitious  to  obtain  seho^ 
lastic  degrees ;  bat  many  canses  may  baTe  existed  to  curb 
his  ambition*  His  mind  naturally  resentful  of  indignity, 
and  prone  to  ecOentrioity,  was  ill  calculated  to  btook  the 
frowns  add  insults  of  wealthier  students,  for  whose  society 
neither  his  purse  nor  his  apparel  qualified  him  as  a  com^ 
petitor  in  expense  or  finery.  His  finances  were  extremely 
confined,  and  from  boyhood  to  old  age,  he  was  never  an 
eminent  votary  of  dress  or  fashion :  indeed,  his  ambition 
seemed  to  point  the  other  way;  the  jeaml,  and  not  the 
casket,  was  the  object  of  his  attention,  and  while  the 
former  dazzled  by  its  lustre^  the  rusticity  of  his  estt^rior 
seemed  as  a  foil  to  the  intellectual  splendour  it  veiled:-^ 

<<  At  Btxetatm  fbai  nm  o'er  gdldea  laiaeii, 

With  Bodtit  nranaar  gUIti 
Nor  seem  to  know  the  weaUh  that  shines 

Within  their  gentle  tide. 
O !  yefl'd  beneath  a  simple  guise, 

Thjr  radnmt  genius  shone, 
And  tint  which  dMmf  d  SU  other  eyes, 

Seem'd  worthless  in  thy  own/'  Moosn, 

But  however  nnambitious  of  collegiate  distinctions,  he 


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SOS  CURRAN. 

aGCumulated  without  labour,  and  appareDtlj  without  study, 
all  treasures  of  classic  learning.  To  the  study  of  eloquence 
he  anxiously  devoted  his  mind,  and  stored  his  genius  from 
all  the  great  masters  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  schools. 

Having  finished  his  college  courae,  he  proceeded  to 
London,  and  entered  himself  of  the  Middle  Temple*  Here 
be  ate  his  commons  through  the  stated  number  of  terms,* 
to  qualify  him  for  the  Irish  bar,  and  it  is  generally  believed, 
be  sustained  bis  expenses  by  the  labour  of  his  pen,  as 
many  of  his  eminent  countrymen  had  done  before  him. 
On  his  return  to  Ireland  in  1775,  he  was  called  to  the 
Irish  bar,  where  he  performed  a  briefless  quarantine  of 
some  years  in  the  hall  of  the  four  courts ;  and  in  ^e  spring 
and  summer  assizes,  laid  the  foundation  of  his  professional 
fortunes  on  the  Munster  circuit  Here  too  be  had  the 
courage  and  patience  to  persist  in  his  almost  briefless 
ordeal  (like  many  of  his  predecessors  and  cotemporaries 
who  afterwards  attained  the  highest  forensic  honours) 
while  his  fees  scarcely  defrayed  his  travelling  charges.  It 
was  on  one  of  those  excursions  that  he  was  introduced  to 
Miss  O'Dell,  a  young  lady  of  respectable  family,  who 
shortly  afterwards  became  his  wife;  but  this  match  brought 
no  increase  to  his  finances,  and  he  returned  to  the  metro- 
polis with  the  additional  charge  of  maintaining  a  wife^ 
though  the  fruits  of  his  last  exertions  were  scarcely 
competent  to  his  personal  support.  He  saw  a  young 
family  increase,  without  means  to  sustain  them;  for 
splendid  as  were  his  talents,  and  encouraging  the  hope 
of  future  eminence,  still  he  wanted  the  friends  and  con- 
nections indispensable  to  success;  but  vivacious  spirits 
and  an  elastic  mind  bore  him  above  the  torrent  he 
had  to  buflet,  and  enabled  him  to  stem  the  billows  of 
adversity. 

Passing  rapidly  over  a  series  of  melancholy  reflections, 
arising  from  a  conjugal  alliance  commenced  under  embar- 
rassments, (and  terminated  some  years  afterwards  in  a 
legal  separation  under  the  most  afflicting  circumstances,) 
we  now  arrive  at  the  first  dawn  of  his  auspicious  fortunes. 


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CURRAN.  309^ 

By  degrees  his  character  and  talents  became  more  known 
and  respected ;  and,  if  report  be  correct,  he  was  indebted 
for  his  first  patron  and  rising  fame  to  his  own  manly 
spirit,  coupled  with  that  mental  energy  to  which  a  little 
incident  proved  favourable. 

He  was  retained  during  an  election  contest,  in  which 
common-place  abuse  and  reciprocal  invective  are  so  fre- 
quently resorted  to  both  in  £ngland  and  Ireland,  instead' 
of  law  and  reason;  Mr.  Curran  employed  both  his  wit 
and  satire  (in  each  of  which  he  was  matchless)  against 
the  pretensions  of  the  opposite  candidate;  and  particularly 
objected  to  a  vote  tendered  in  his  behalf.  This  instantly 
produc/ed  many  gross  personal  allusions  on  the  part  of  the 
adversary,  and  the  apparent  meanness  of  the  barrister's 
figure  and  dress  proved  a  fruitful  though  vulgar  theme  for 
declamation.  Mr.  Curran,  restrained  only  by  the  presence 
of  the  presiding  magistrate  from  instantly  conferring  per* 
sonal  chastisement,  was  compelled  to  adopt  another  expe- 
dient, and  immediately  poured  forth  such  a  torrent  of 
sarcastic  eloquence,  that  he  overwhelmed  his  opponent 
with  shame  and  confusion,  while  he  enlisted  all  the  noble 
and  generous  passions  of  his  auditors  on  the  side  of  out- 
raged huoD^anity. 

His  antagonist,  instead  of  resorting  to  pistols  (the 
honourable  arbitration  of  right  and  wrong  at  that  day> 
had  good  sense  and  generosity  enough  to  acknowledge  his 
errors;  nay,  more,  he  granted  to  the  young  lawyer  his 
friendship  and  protection,  and  is  said  to  have  eminently 
contributed  by  his  influence,  to  place  his  merit  and  talents 
in  a  fair  point  of  view. 

But  it  was  not  alone  with  the  probationary  difficulty  of 
a  jnnbr  barrister  that  Mr.  Curran  had  to  contend  in  his 
early  career;  perhaps  it  is  not,  even  in  that  liberal  profes- 
'  iiion,  that  a  young  man  of  humble  origin  and  obscure 
(connections,  but  superior  talents  and  rising  fame  has  to 
expect  the  kasi  display  of  enmity  from  senior  competitors, 
more  fortunate  in  their  alliances,  wealth,  and  veteran  stand- 
ing; there  are, certain. invidbns  propensities  in  our  firai> 


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Qnturei  which  even  the  gravity  of  a  silk  gown  and  t 
Serjeant's  coif  cannot  always  cooceal :  but  when  tuch  a 
feeling  betrays  itself  on  the  bend),  it  merits  a  mach  harshfur 
naioe  than  mere  UUberality. 

There  was  an  Honourable  Judge  RoUnson  at  this  lime 
gn  the  Irish  bench,  as  remarkable  for  the  peeyisboess  of 
his  temper  as  the  pitifalness  of  his  person,  who  had  nore 
than  once  elicited  sparks  of  just  resentment  from  gentle 
ipen  of  the  bar,  that  might  have  tavght  him  better  caution* 
Current  rumours  stated  that  this  learned  jndge  attained 
his  promotion  to  tbe  judgment  seat»  not  by  his  eminent 
virtues  or  his  lega)  learning,  but  his  literary  services  in  the 
publication  of  some  political  pampblti&y  remarkable  only 
for  their  senseless,  slavish,  and  venomous  scurrility.  Tbia 
goodly  sage,  at  a  time  when  Mr.  Curran  was  struggling 
with  adversity,  and  straining  every  nerve  in  one  of  bis 
early  forensic  pursuits,  made  an  unfeeling  effort  to  extin* 
gnish  bim<  Mr,  Curran,  in  combating  aome  opinio^ 
urged  by  the  opposite  counsel,  said,  ihfX  he  had  con$Mked 
qU  his  law  booh,  and  could  not  find  a  single  case  to  esta* 
blish  the  opinion  oootended  for;  '^  i  nttfttcty  Sir/*  said  tlie 
heartless  judge  with  a  sneer,  ^Uhai  ^em  law  library  is 
rather  contracted."  Such  a  remark  from  the  beocb^  applied 
to  a  young  man  of  ordinary  pretensions  would  bane  in&I- 
Ubly  crufhed  him.  But  Mr.  Curran,  whose  practical 
motto  was  ^^nerna  tm  impunk  lace$sit"  rose  from  the  prct- , 
sure  of  this  suoke  with  increased  elasticity.  For  a  moment 
he  eyed  the  judge  with  a  pause  of  contemptwous  silence^ 
^nd  tbea  replied,--^  It  is  true,  my  lofd,  that  I  am  poor;  mmI 
that  circumstance  has  rather  curtailed  my  library;  but,  if 
my  books  are  not  numerous,  they  are  select ;  aad^  I  hope, 
have  been  perused  with  proper  dispositions ;  I  have  pre- 
pared myself  for  this  high  profession,  rath^  by  the  study 
of  a  few  good  books,  than  the  compadtum  cfmamy  badQ»e9. 
I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  poverty,  hut  I  ^ould  of  my 
WfaUb>  could  I  sloop  to  acquire  it  by  servility  anci  corrup- 
tipA^  if  i  rise  not  to  rank^  I  shall  at  least  be  hottest ;  and 
§h(¥|ld  I  ever  cease  to  ^e  so,  many  escamples  skew  me, 


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CfJRKAN.  .     511 

that  aa  iiiracqiBfed  etevatioo,  bj  readectng  me  move 


s|^aoii8>  woaU  only  make  me  the  more  nmiTersal^jr  and 
i»ore  ffeptoriotttly  cootemptibk."  This  appeart  ta  hare 
beea  the  last  ooca^ooi  cm  aihicb  the  leanied  jadge  Taa- 
tared  a  Me  at  the  same  /Ue. 

Perhapa  do  man  ever  possesaed  poi^ars  of  inrectiTe  anil 

exasperatiooy  more  Tirolent  than  tbose  of  Mr.  Curran. 

Eavljr  in  his  profesakoal  career,  he  was  emplc^d  at  Cork, 

to  proaecate  an  officer,  naased  SeUb^ew,  for  asaaalting  a 

catholic  elergymao.   Selliager,.  josAly  oi  ciherwiae,  wm 

siMpected  by  Mc.  Corran  to  he  a  mete  pc^cal  creatQseof 

Lofd  Doneraile^  and  to  hare  acted  i*  mere  sobseryieoGy  lo 

the  religioQs  prejudices  of  his  patron.    On  this  theme  be 

expatiated  with  sach  bitterness  and  eflfect,  that  Sellioger 

seat  him  a  message  the  next  clay.    Tbey  met;  Mr.  Curra» 

received,  but  did  not  return  his  fit e ;  and  thas  the  affair 

ended.    ''  It  was  not  necessary,"  said  Cmran  some  time 

afterwards  to  a  fi ieiid^  '^  for  me  to  fire  at  him ;  he  died  in 

three  weeka  after  the  duel,  of  the  report  of  bis  own  pistol/' 

Mr.  Curran  might  now  be  considered  as  prosperously 

established  at  the  bar,  riakig  to  the  very  summit  of  hia 

profession,  and  daily  employed  in  those  forensic  exertioaa 

which  so  eminently  contributed  to  ktfs  fortnoe  aa  a  lawyer, 

and  bis  bme  as  an  orator ;  but,  Dotwithstaodiag  the  exten« 

stveaesi  of  hia  professionat  pursuits,  he  eoiuid  find  time 

to  enjoy  the  convivial  society  of  a  few  select  firieads.  This 

society  was  entitled,  the  Monks^  •f  tk$  Screw,  and  did  not, 

as  a  vulgar  biographer  of  Mr.  Curran  has  igaot aotly  stated, 

consist  of  shabivy  barristers  and  ale-bibbers,  but  of  aieo  of 

the  first  character,  wit,  and  talents  the  coantry  could 

'  boast;  aien  as  eminent  for  the  polish  of  their  manners,  as 

for  their  learning  and  gei^asw    Amongst  these  were  the 

late  Lord  Charlemont,  Mr.  Flood,  Mr.  Grattan,  Mr.  Bowes 

Daly,  Mr.  George  Ogle,  Mr.  Keller,  Messrs.  Day,  Chann 

berlaine,    and  Metge,  since  judges;    Barry   Yelverton 

(afterwards  Lord  A  von  more),  the  celebrated  Dr.  O^Leary, 

and  a  boat  of  sach  duiracters  were  amongst  its  mlembers. 

Tbey  nset  every  Saturday  during  the  law  terms,  in  a  hu^ge 


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3ie  GURRAN. 

house  of  tbeir  own,  in  Kevin  street.  Mr.  Curran  was 
installed  grand  prior  of  the  order,  and  deputed  to  compose 
the  charter-song.  If  ever  there  was  a  social  board,  whereat 
the  votaries  of  wit,  taste,  and  festivity  might  enjoy  with 
delight  ^  the  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of  soul ;"  it  was 
in  this  convent  of  accomplished  monks.  This  society 
continued  for  several  years ;  and  after  its  dissolution,  the 
small  statue  of  tbeir  patron  saint  was  removed  to  Mr.  Cur- 
rants seat,  called  the  Priory^  near  Dublin,  and  placed  on 
the  sideboard  in  his  dining  room. 

Of  all  the  friends  with  whom  Mr.  Curran  maintained  the 
strictest  intimacy,  and  who  treated  him  with  an  almost 
parental  esteem,  was  Barry  Yelverton,  whose  talents  had 
raised  him  to  the  dignity  of  the  peerage,  as  Lord  Avonmore. 
They  were  educated  at  the  same  school,  and  were  fellow- 
students,  though  Yelverton  was  by  some  years  the  older. 
This  nobleman  was  said  to  make  his  first  bound  in  life 
from  a  whimsical  incident.  While  asizar  at  Trinity  College, 
he  employed  his  vacations  as  an  assistant-tutor  at  the 
classical  school  of  the  Reverend  Doctor  Buck,  in  North 
King  street,  and  was  treated  as  one  of  the  family,  and 
boarded  at  the  doctor's  table;  but  Mrs.  Buck  was  a 
practical  economist,  and  dictated  an  arrangement,  by 
which  the  tutors  were  cashiered  of  their  toast  and  tea 
breakfast,  and  placed  on  a  morning  establishment  of  bread 
and  milk  with  the  boys  of  the  school.  Btit  Yelverton,  who 
possessed  as  much  as  most  men  of  the  milk  of  human 
kindness,  could  not  bear  this  humiliating  change;  he 
immediately  quitted  the  school,  redoubled  his  diligence  at 
college,  pushed  bis  way  for  the  bar,  where  his  talents  soon 
enabled  him  to  outstrip  his  competitors,  and  to  establish 
his  fame  in  public  as  a  lawyer,  an  orator,  and  a  statesman; 
and  in  private  as  a  scholar,  a  poet,  and  a  wit  of  the  first 
water.  His  simplicity  -rendered  him  the  constant  butt  of 
Curran's  playful  wit;  but  his  good  nature  always  forgave 
the  prank  for  the  sake  of  the  joke.  He  had  long  presided 
as  chief  baron  of  his  majesty's  exchequer  court.  About  the 
period  of  the  Union  he  received  his  patent  of  peerage,  by 


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CURRAN.  SIS 

the  title  of  Avanmare,  as  was  said,  io  cooBideratioQ  of  his 
support  to  the  m^isare  of  union,  in  direct  opposition  td 
the  principles  of  bis  whole  life,  and  to  the  sentiments  of  all 
his  friends  and  admirers  at  the  bar,  to  whom  that  measure 
has  never  ceased  to  be  peculiarly  obnoxious.  About  this 
time  an  unfortunate  division  separated  the  friendship  be- 
tween those  eminent  men,  which  had  subsisted  from  their 
boyish  days,  and  no  reconciliation  took  place  until  the 
year  1805,  when  it  was  casually  effected  by  an  incident 
highly  honourable  to  the  feelings  of  both.  On  the  memo- 
rable cause  of  the  King  v.  Mr.  Justice  Johnston,  in  the 
court  of  exchequer,  when  Mr.  Curran  came  to  be  heard, 
after  alluding  to  a  previous  decision  in  the  king's,  bench 
against  his  client,  he  thus  pathetically  appealed  to  Lord 
Avonmore  :— 

**  I  am  not  ignorant,  my  lord,  that  this  extraordinary 
construction  has  received  the  sanction  of  another  court, 
nor  of  the  surprise  and  dismay  with  which  it  smote  upon 
the  general  heart  of  the  bar.  I  am  aware  that  I  may  have 
the  mortification  of  being  told  in  another  country  of  that 
unhappy  decision,  and  I  foresee  in  what  confusion  I  shall 
hang  down  my  head  when  I  am  told  it.  But  I  cherish 
too  the  consolatory  hope,  that  1  shall  be  able  to  tell  them 
that  I  had  an  old  and  learned  friend,  whom  1  would  put 
above  all  the  sweepings  of  their  hall,  who  was  of  a  different 
opinion ;  who  had  derived  his  ideas  of  civil  liberty  from 
the  purest  fountains  of  Athens  and  of  Rome;  who  had  fed 
the  youthful  vigour  of  his  studious  mind,  with  the  theoretic 
knowledge  of  their  wisest  philosophers  and  statesmen ;  and 
who  had  refined  the  theory  into  the  quick  and  exquisite 
sensibility  of  moral  instinct,  by  contemplating  the  prac- 
tice of  tlieir  most  illustrious  examples;  by  dwelling  on  the 
sweet  souPd  piety  of  Cimon ;  on  the  anticipated  Chris- 
tianity of  Socrates ;  on  the  gallant  and  pathetic  patriotism 
of  Epaminondas ;  on  that  pure  austerity  of  Fabricius, 
whom,  to  move  from  his  integrity,  would  have  been  more 
difficult  than  to  have  pushed  the  sun  from  his  course.  I 
would  add,  that  if  he  had  seemed  to  hesitate,  it  was  but 


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314  CURRAN. 

for  a  moment :  that  his  hesitation  was  like  the  passing 
cloud  that  floats  across  the  momiog  sun,  and  hides  it  from 
the  view ;  and  does  8o»  for  a  moment,  hide  it  hj  involv- 
ing the  spectator  without  even  approaching  the  face  of 
the  luminary :  And  this  soothing  hope  1  draw  from  the 
dearest  and  tenderest  recollections  of  my  li£^  from  the 
remembrance  of  those  Attic  nights  and  those  reflections 
of  the  gods  which  we  have  spent  with  those  admired  and 
respected  and  heloved  companions  who  have  gone  before 
us ; — over  whose  ashes  the  most  precious  tears  of  Ireland 
have  been  shed :  yes,  my  good  lord,  I  see  you  do  not  for- 
get tbem ;  I  see  tlieir  sacred  fprms  passing  in  sad  review 
before  your  memory:  I  see  your  pained  and  softened 
fancy  recalling  those  happy  meetings  when  the  innocent 
enjoyment  of  social  mirth  expanded  into  the  nobler 
warmth  of  social  virtue;. and  the  horizon  of  the  board 
became  enlarged  into  the  horizon  of  man; — when  the 
swelling  heart  conceived  and  commonicated  the  pure  and 
generous  purpose, — when  my  slenderer  and  younger  taper 
imbibed  its  borrowed  light  from  the  more  matured  and 
redundant  fountain  of  yours.  Yet,  my  lord,  we  can 
remember  those  nighu  without  any  other  regret  than  that 
they  can  never  more  return,  for 

<<  We  speot tbem iMt in t03m» «r lutt,  truAne; 
But  search  of  deep  philoaoph  j. 
Wit,  eloqaeoce  and  poesy. 
Arts,  wblch  I  lov'd,  for  they,  myjriend,  were  thine/^ 

But,  my  lord,  to  return  to  a  subject  from  which  to 
have  thus  far  departed,  I  think,  may  not  be  wholly  without 
excuse,'* 

As  soon  as  the  court  rose,  the  tipsta£f  informed  Mr. 
Curran,  be  was  wanted  immediately  in  the  chamber  by 
one  of  the  judges  of  the  exchequer.  He  obeyed  the  man- 
date ;  and  the  moment  he  entered,  the  venerable  Lord 
Avonmore,  whose  cheeks  were  still  wet  with  tears  extorted 
by  this  heart-touching  appeal,  clasped  him  to  hia  bosom, 
and  from  that  moment. all  cause  of  diffeipence  was  oblile^ 
rated. 


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CURRAN.  315 

We  now  go  bade  to  the  year  17SS,  in  the  admioistra- 
tjoQ  of  Lord  Northingtoa,  when  Mr*  Corrao  firgt  took  bis 
seat  in  Parliament  for  the  borough  of  Kilbeggsm,  having 
for  hit  coneagoe,  the  celebrated  Henry  Flood,  with  whom 
be  joined  the  opposttioo  of  the  day.  A  circnoistance 
attending  hit  election  was  highly  honourable  to  Mr.  Car* 
ran.  Lord  Longoerille  who  was  proprietor  of  the  bo- 
rottgby  and  a  wholesale  dealer  in  the  trade  of  parliament, 
was  eager  to  attach  to  bis  force  so  desirable  a  recruit  as 
Mr.  Cnrraoy  and  he  returned  him  for  a  seat,  nuder  the 
idea  that  a  young  barrister  with  a  growing  family,  and 
totally  dependant  on  bis  profession  for  sabsistence^  woald 
scarcely  suffer  his  political  principles  to  interfere  with  his 
interests.  He  found,  however,  in  Mr.  Curran  a  stubborn 
exception  to  this  rule ;  for  on  the  very  first  question,  be 
not  only  voted  agwnst  his  patron,  but  by  a  most  energetic 
speech,  proved  the  total  fallacy  of  all  his  expectations. 
Lord  Longaevilte,  of  coarse  warmly  remonstrated ;  bat 
what  was  his  astonishment  to  find  Mr.  Cnrran,  not  only 
persevering  in  the  independence  of  his  opinions,  but  even 
devoting  the  only  500/.  he  bad  in  the  world,  to  the  pur- 
diase  of  a  seat  which  he  insisted  on  transferring  as  an 
equivalent  for  that  of  Kilbeggan.  Doring  the  whole  of 
Mr.  Curran's  parliamentary  life,  it  was  his  fbrtnne  to  be 
j<ued  in  the  ranks  of  opposition,  in  which  be  acted  widi 
many  of  the  most  eminent  patriots,  orators,  and  statesmen 
bia  country  could  boast  in  any  age,  and  he  ever  prcyved 
htmself  a  steady  adherent  to  the  cause  of  bis  country,  and 
worthy  the  attachment  and  oonidenceof  bis  friends.  Itia 
not  our  purpose  in  this  sketch,  to  attempt  lengthened 
detaiiaof  his  eloquence  in  the  senate,  where  he  has  so  often 
shone  with  refulgent  splendour,  and  where  not  only  the 
feioe  of  his  arguments,  but  the  lightnings  of  bis  wit,  and 
the  shafts  of  bis  invective  were  deeply  felt  on  that  side  of 
tbe  house  to  which  he  was  opposed.  He  had,  however, 
the  mortification  to  see  several  of  bis  friends  from  time  to 
time,  larcd  by  the  sweets  of  office,  relinquishing  their  old 
colleagttcs  and  the  public  cause,  to  join  the  ranks  of  the 


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316  CURRAN. 

minister.  Mr.  Curran  always  adhered  to  the  same  politics 
which  distingaisbed  the  political  lives  of  the  Poasonby's, 
Mr.  Grattan,  and  those  numerous  friends  who  formed  the 
Whig  club  in  Ireland,  and  he  was  a  zealous  supporter  of 
all  their  measures ;  but  able  as  that  support  was,  circum- 
stances rendered  the  house  of  commons  not  the  most 
favourable  theatre  for  the  display  of  his  talents.  His 
forensic  labours  occupied  much  the  greater  portion  of  his 
time,  and  daily  demanded  his  presence  in  one  or  all  of  the 
four  courts.  His  post  in  the  senatorial  ranks  was  usually 
allotted  in  the  rear  of  the  debates ;  for  he  seldom  came 
into  action  till  towards  the  close  of  the  engagement;  and 
this,  after  having  previously  toiled  through  the  courte  for 
the  entire  day  :  of  course  he  brought  to  the  house  of  com- 
mons a  person  enfeebled,  and  a  mind  exhausted.  He  was 
therefore  compelled  to  speak  late  in  the  night,  when  the 
subject  for  discussion  and  the  patience  of  the  house  were 
worn  out,  and  he  had  frequently  to  devote  the  residue  of 
the  night,  after  the  division,  to  reading  his  briefs,  and  pre-> 
paring  to  meet  the  judges  early  the  next  morning.  But 
even  exhausted  as  he  was  on  those  occasions,  and  fatigued 
as  were  the  attentions  of  his  auditors,  he  never  failed,  by 
the  brilliancy  of  his  wit,  the  vivacity  of  his  spirits,  the 
vigour  of  his  intellect,  and  the  beauty  of  his  eloquence, 
to  rally  the  languor  of  the  house,  and  reanimate  the  discus- 
sion, to  its  very  close.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that  ample 
justice  was  scarcely  ever  done  to  the  most  brilliant  of  his 
speeches  in  the  printed  reports  of  the  day,  and  hence 
many  of  his  Enest  orations  are  lost  for  ever. 

Much  censure,  and  even  abuse  have  been  cast  on  the 
parliamentary  reporters  of  the  time  for  their  negligence  or 
inability  on  this  and  other  like  points,  so  injurious  to 
national  eloquence :  but  it  may  not  be  amiss,  even  here, 
to  offer  some  apology  for  men  thus  severely  and  indiscri- 
minately blamed,  and  to  throw  some  light  upon  a  subject 
little  understood  by  the  public. 

The  newspapers  in  Ireland  were  the  only  immediate 
vehicles  for  the  details  of  parliamentary  eloquence.    The 


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CURRAN.  317 

gdremmeot  of  the  country  employed  ttoDo  reportef^  with 
liberal  salaries  and  lacrative  patronage,  to  take  care  of  the 
speeches  of  the  ministerial  members.  Two  newspapers 
with  large  allowances  were  entirely  devoted  to  the  pur- 
pose,  and  many  or  most  of  the  speakers  from  the  treasury 
benchesy  anxious  to  display  their  talents  and  utilityi  gene* 
rally  wrote  their  own  speeches  and  sent  them  to  the 
government  prints.  But  with  the  popular  newspapers^ 
the  case  was  quite  different*  They  were  generally  in  the 
bands  of  needy  or  parsimonious  printers ;  and  for  each 
paper  a  single  reporter^  at  the  enormous  salary  of  two 
guineas  per  week!  attended  in  the  gallery  to  note  and 
detail  the  eloquence  of  the  opposition  orators,  from  the 
sitting  of  the  house  to  its  rising,  frequently  a  period  of 
eight,  ten,  or  twelve  hours  a  night ;  and  then  they  adjourned 
to  their  printing  offices,  fatigued  and  exhausted  in  mind 
and  body,  to  give  such  a  sketch  of  the  discussion  as  a 
news-printer  had  room  or  inclination  to  insert.  Many  of 
those  reporters  were  men  of.  considerable  ability,  and  not 
as  Mr.  Hardy,  the  biographer  of  Lord  Charlemont,  has 
stated  *'  the  most  ignorant  and  illiterate  of  the  human  race,'* 
bat  as  competent  to  the  task  as  any  of  those  employed  for 
the  like  purpose  in  London,  where  six  or  eight  are  some- 
times engaged  for  each  print.  It  is  hoped  this  short  and 
true  explanation  will,  once  for  all,  plead  apology  for  the 
historians  of  Irish  parliamentary  eloquence,  whose  wretched 
emoluments  were  so  utterly  inadequate  to  remunerate 
tbeif  exertions ;  and  who,  to  perform  the  task  they  have 
been  charged  with  neglecting,  must  have  had  constitutions 
and  capacities  more  than  human. 

Mr.  Curran  was  not  more  fortunate  in  the  details  of  his 
forensic  omtions ;  for  the  reporter  in  the  law  courts  and 
in  the  house  of  commons  was  one  and  the  same,  and  in- 
cluded both  duties  under  the  one  miserable  stipend.  Short- 
hand was  scarcely  known  in  the  country  at  the  time,  save 
by  one  or  two  gentlemen  of  the  bar,  to  whose  labours  the 
world  is  indebted  for  the  only  sketches  extant  of  Mr. 
Curran's  speeches,  approaching  to  any  thing  like  perfect 


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316  CURRAN. 

nmilitnde,  parucularly  thote  uttered  on  the  Stale  Trials; 
and  he  himsdf  could  Devter  be  prerailed  on  to  revise  or 
retouch  the  tranecript  of  a  single  oration.  Had  Cicero, 
or  Burke,  been  thus  negligent  of  their  facnadiary  fame, 
we  should  not,  at  this  day,  possess  in  print  the  splendid 
moBumentft  of  their  eloquence  that  chajknge  our  admi'- 
ration :  but,  of  the  genuine  eloquence  of  Curran,  as  of  the 
exquisite  sculptures  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rom^  we  ans 
left  to  form  our  conception  f\rom  the  broken  statues  and 
mutilated  fragments,  collected  from  cursory  sketches, 
some  notes,  or  fleeting  memory,  which  are  compiled  into 
the  shape  in  which  we  now  find  them.  Ex  pede  HerctUan. 
But,  if  such  be  the  deucfaed  members,  what  nuMt  have 
been  the  entire  figure  of  that  eloquence,  which,  to  be  felt 
and  estimated,  must  have  been  heard  in  the  delivery  ? 

If  his  powers  were  great,  his  materials  were  also  aband* 
ant.  The  themes  of  his  parliamentary  displays  were  the 
grievances  of  his  country,  the  wrongs  of  her  people,  and 
the  corrupt  influence  of  her  ruling  system;  mid  never  did 
any  civilized  country,  called  free,  in  any  age,  present 
more  prolific  sources  to  fire  the  mind  and  stimulate  the 
eloquence  of  a  patriot  orator.  The  corruption  of  the  system^ 
and  the  rapacity  of  its  instruments,  were  the  constant  ob«> 
jecu  of  his  attack ;  and  he  poured  on  them  an  incessant 
fire  of  pointed  invective  and  scalding  ridicule.  His  very 
pleasantries  were  subservient  to  his  purpose;  and  even 
the  victims  of  his  wit,  while  they  winced  under  the  lash 
of  bis  satire,  or  were  scorching  by  the  lightnings  of  hU 
fancy,  were  often  convulsed  with  laughter.  A  few  short 
specimens  may  serve  to  illustrate  this  part  of  the  sketch. 

The  Beresford  family,  who  were  at  the  head  of  the 
revenue,  and  Mr.  Fitzgibbon  (afterwards  Lord  Clare)  con« 
nected  with  them  by  marriage,  long  held  the  ruling  sway 
in  Ireland ;  and,  in  addition  to  the  influence  which  their 
stations  gave  them  over  the  representative  body  within 
the  walls  of  parliament,  from  the  weighty  operation  of  tbe 
loaves  and  fishes,  that  influence  was  greatly  strengthened 
by  their  omnipotent  patronage  and  control   over    the 


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CURRAN.  Sl« 

rtvaitte  lyiAeai,  with  the  bmiiMR  of  ^lecttoDt^  wUcb  en- 
abled tbeniy  in  all  emergencies,  to  numoh  m  whole  army  of 
excisemeDy  tax-gatherers,  distillera,  brewers,  aad  pnUicangy 
into  the  field ;  all  of  whom  had  either  votes  in  eorpo- 
rationa^  or  were  fottyahHliog  freeholders  in  three  <nr  fear 
ooonties ;  and,  if  on  any  ocoaaion,  the  success  of  the  court 
candidate  was  doobtful^  a  hatch  of  those  ibrtyi^sbilUsg 
voten  were  mmurfaa^rtd  for  the  occasioo,  and  the  same 
idcftitieal  acre  was  wmetimes  transferred  in  suooesaion 
A6m  mu  to  iweaiy  tenants,  sridi  an  increasing  profit^rent 
of  foity-sUllingi  a  year  to  each.  Oto  one  fartioalar  oc^ 
oanoa,  when  pofMikr  interest  ran  Ugh  on  the  approaeh 
of  a  general  dectum,  &f  r.  Beresford  was  obliged  to  bri^ 
gade  the  eusDom^home  officers  from  the  metropcrfts,  and 
every  out-port  in  the  kingdom,  cdl  of  whom  being  pre- 
vioatly  organised  as  quormm  voters  for  several  connties, 
were  aetoaUy  marched  by  squads,  and  travelled  through 
every  district  within  the  circuit  of  their  respective  can* 
tonmeats,  to  tarn  the  scale  at  every  election  they  could 
leaoh  i^aiaat  the  popular  candidate. 

On  the  meetiag  of  the  new  parliament  Mr.  Cnrran  laid 
held  of  thia  circumataoce,  which  he  handled  with  infinite 
hurnonr: — *^  What,  Mr.  Speaker,  said  he,  **  mast  be  the 
aterm  and  consternation  of  the  whole  country,  when  they 
saw  these  horde9  of  at9t9m-kou$e  TsMrters  traversing  every^ 
district)  devouring  like  locusts  the  provisions,  and  over^ 
whekaiog  the  franchises  of  the  people  i  These  Jiscat 
comedums  travelled  in  carts  and  waggons  from  town  to 
town,  connty  to  county,  and  election  to  electioa,  to  fill 
this  house,  not  with  the  representatives  of  the  people^ 
bat  of  the  great  Cham  who  commands  them.  Methinks 
I  tee  a  whole  caravm  of  those  9trolBng  conditttents^  trund- 
ling in  their  vehicles  towards  a  country  town,  where  some 
gaping  simpleton,  in  wonderment  at  their  appearance, 
asks  the  driver  of  the  first  vehicle :  ^  Where,  my  good 
fcUow,  dre  you  going  with  those  i^aggamaffins  ?  I  suppose 
they  are  convicts  on  their  way  to  the  Idd-ship  for  trans- 
portation to  Botany  Bay.'    ^  Oh!  no,'  answers  the  driver^ 


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320  CURRAN. 

*  they  are  only  a  few  cartloads  of  the  raw  maierials  /bl* 
manufacturing  members  ofparSament,  on  their  way  to  the 
next  election.*  " 

Even  Mr.  Beresford  himself,  and  his  whole  corps  of 
commissionersi  who  were  present,  had  not  gravity  enough 
to  withstand  this  attack  on  their  risible  muscles,  but 
joined  in  the  general  burst  of  laughter  it  excited. 

When  the  late  Lord  Buckinghamshire  (then  Major 
Hobart)  was  secretary  to  the  viceroy,  and,  of  course,  had 
what  is  called  the  management  of  the  conunons  house,  hit 
raaks  were  filled  in  general  by  a  miserable  set  of  sup* 
porters,  whose  talents  only  qualified  them  to  talk  against 
time,  or  fire  their  amen  shots  at  the  question,  by  the  simple 
monosyllables,  aye  or  no ;  sitting  mum  through  the  de- 
bate, and  serving,  like  Falstoff^s  soldiers,  as  "  mere  jhod  for 
the  gunpowder"  of  Curran's  wit.  The  orator,  in  one  of  his 
speeches,  affecting  a  tone  of  commiseration,  noticed  those 
gentlemen  thus : — 

"  For  my  part,  Mr.  Speaker,  I  never  glance  at  the  right 
honourable  gentleman  over  the  way  (Major  Hobart)  with- 
out feelings  of  unaffected  pity  for  him,  in  the  duties  he 
has  to  perform  in  his  arduous  situation.  When  I  behold 
an  Eng^sh  secretary,  day  after  day,  marching  down  to  this 
house  from  the  castle,'  like  a  petty  German  clock^maker, 
with  his  wooden  timepieces  dangling  at  his  back,  in  order 
to  deposit  them  on  their  shelves,  in  dumb  shew,  until  their 
manager  shall  pull  the  string  for  their  larums  to  go  off, 
or  their  hurdy-gurdies  to  play  their  appointed  tunes,  I 
feel  for  the  honour  of  the  country  he  came  from,  as  well 
as  for  the  debasement  of  my  own.  Such  is  the  miserable 
machinery  by  which  his  questions  are  carried  in  this  house, 
without  even  the  semblance  of  argument  or  the  decency 
of  candid  discussion.'' 

At  another  time,  expressing  his  alarm  at  the  rapid  strides 
of  corruption  over  the  remaining  virtues  of  the  repre- 
sentative body,  and  the  elevation  of  apostacy  in  proportion 
to  its  excess,  be  compared  the  unblushing  supporters  of 
the  minister's  influence,  to  "  Drowned    bodies,  which 


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CURRAN.  321 

excited  no  apprehensions  while  sunk  at  the  bottom  of  the 
current;  but,  in  process  of  time,  they  rose  as  they  rotted, 
by  the  buoyancy  of  their  own  corruption ;  till,  reaching  the 
surface,  they  floated  down  the  stream,  infecting  the  very 
atmosphere  by  the  stench  of  their  putrescence,  and  filled 
the  surrounding  country  with  horror  and  dismay .'' 

At  another  time  he  compared  them  to  '^  tnummief  in  a 
catacomb,  who  remained  fixed  in  their  niches,  until  dug  out 
to  give  their  votes,  or  be  told  off  in  the  dumb  show  of  a 
division  against  their  country/' 

But  one  of  bis  most  ludicrous  and  effective  strokes  in 
this  way  was  played  off  upon  a  gentleman  of  the  bar, 
named  Duqucry,  who  had  a  seat  in  parliament.  He  was 
a  gentleman  of  distinguished  talents  and  worth,  who  had 
long  been  the  zealous  supporter  of  Mr.  Cu'rran  and  his 
friends,  but  he  was  not  so  fortunate  as  Curran  in  the 
forensic  field ;  and  felt  himself  advancing  in  years  with  an 
income  very  inadequate  to  his  station  in  life.  This  gentle- 
man was  prevailed  on  to  accept  a  serjeantry-at-law,  as  a 
s|ep  preliminary  to  higher  advancement  in  his  professional 
line:  but  the  condition,  however  unpalatable,  was  a 
transfer  of  his  talents  to  the  treasury-side  of  the  house, 
and  an  implicit  support  of  administration.  Mr.  Duquery 
with  reluctance  complied,  much  to  the  surprise  and  chagrin 
of  his  old  colleagues ;  and  on  his  first  night's  appearance 
in  his  new  situation,  he  made  a  speech  in  support  of  a 
ministerial  question,  so  very  inferior  to  his  usual  style,  and 
so  feeble  in  the  cause  he  had  recently  espoused,  as  greatly 
to  disappoii^t  the  hopes  of  his  new  allies,  and  to  gratify 
those  whom  he  had  so  lately  deserted. 

Such  a  circumstance  could  not  escape  the  vigilance  and 
wit  of  Curran ;  and  in  a  night  or  two  afterwards,  while 
Mr.  Duquery  sat  blushingi amongst  his  new  friends,  for  his 
recent  failure,  and  preparing  for  a  more  successful  effort 
in  the  evening's  debate,  Mr.  Curran  rose,  and  made, 
as  usual,  a  brilliant  speech  on  the  subject  under  discussion, 
towards  the  end  of  which,  he  ^  congratulated  the  Right 
Honourable  Major  (Hobart)  on  the  acquisition  of  his  new 

VOL,    I.  Y 


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mt  CURRAN. 

rearuUf  aod  w^  glad  to  find  bim  alreadj  promoted  to  tlie 
honour  of  a  haUberd}  be  had  do  doubt  that  the  jouog 
BefjeaM  Would  prove  a  valuable  acquisition  to  tbe  regiment, 
although  he  had  cut  rather  an  aukward  figure  upon  the 
fir^t  night's  drilL    The  mainceuvres  and  disoipliae  of  bis 
squad  might  be  a  little  irksome,  because  so  different  froth 
that  of  the  corps  be  bad  lately  quitted^  wad  in  which  he 
had  served  so  long  with  credit  as  an  expert  soldier;  but  be 
might  improve  in  time,  and  entitle  himself  to  higher  piij^ 
and  promotien.   At  present,  tbe  worthy  Serjeant's  siiuatioti 
reminded  him  of  an  incident  while  he  was  a  boy,  Which 
occurred  to  the  master  of  a  puppet*show  in  his  native 
village.    This  itinerant  manager,  with  his  company  of 
wooden  comedians,  large  as  life,  on  his  arrival  sent  forth 
his  pickle  herring,  with  fife  and  drum,  to  announce  his 
performance:    the  quality  of  the  place,  mcluding  the 
squire,  tbe  attorney,  the  apothecary,  the  exckedian,  and 
the  church-warden  of  tbe  village,  with  their  ladies,  attended 
the  performance.  Tbe  Roscius  of  the  drama;,  Mr.  Punch, 
excited  the  warmest  admiration  of  the  audience,  he  was  all 
eloquence,  wit,  and  pleasantry,  and  so  fascinated  the  lady 
of  the  squire,  and  chief  magistrate  in  particular,  that,  oti 
her  return  home,  she  talked  and  dreamed  of  nothing  but 
Mr.  Punch,  and  at  last  made  a  positive  demand  of  her 
husband  that  he  should   purchase  Mr.  Punch  from  tlie 
manager,  as  an  ornament  to  her  cabinet.     In  vain  did  her 
worshipful  spouse  remonstrate,  and  inveigh  against  the 
folly  of  such  a  whim,  in  vain  did  be  warn  her  of  what  the 
neighboursi  would  say;  he  talked  to  no  purpose,  Punch 
she  must  have,  she  could  not  live  without  him.    ''The 
gray  mare  was  the  better  horse:" — the  magistrate  was 
obliged  to  comply,  and  the  very  next  day  concluded  an 
expensive  treaty  with  the  manager  for  the  purchase  of  his 
chief  actor.   But  when  punch  was  transferred  to  my  lady's 
chamber,  all  his  faculties  failed  him,  all  his  vivacity  vanish- 
ed; he  could  neither  telk,  joke,  laugh,  nor  amuse,  as  he  was 
wont.  The  lady  tried  to  rouse  his  spirits,  she  raised  one  hand, 
but  it  fell  lifeless  by  his  side ;  she  tfied  the  other,  with  the 


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CUftttAN.  323 

sftnie  effect ;  she  chucked  bim  under  the  chio,  but  his  jaw  fell 
i^aiti  on  his  bre^t:  and,  in  short,  the  lively,  facetious,  and 
diverting  Mr.  Punch,  became  as  dull,  and  dumb,  as  any  of 
the  tight  hontmrable  puppets  now  in  my  eye ;— the  secret 
was,  that  Mr.  Punch  was  not  in  his  proper  place,  or  under 
the  same  management  which  procured  her  liking:  and, 
qoile  disappointed,  she  requested  the  squire  to  return  him 
to  bis  former  quarters,  with  a  handsome  present  to  the 
manager,  who  soon  restored  Mr.  Punch  to  all  his  former 
celebrity,  and  he  became  as  great  a  favourite  with  the  town 
as  ever/' 

This  speech,  so  appositely  applied  to  the  learned  Ser- 
jeant, excited  continual  bursts  of  laughter  at  his  expense: 
but  it  had  the  still  stronger  effect  of  deciding  him  never 
more  to  risk  a  similar  lecture  from  the  same  quarter ;  for, 
the  next  day,  he  resigned  his  Serjeant's  coif,  and  returned 
to  his  old  post  on  the  opposition  bench. 

The  following  extracts  from  Mr.  Currants  speech  upon 
the  pension  bill,  on  the  13th  of  March,  17B6,  are  admirable 
specimens  of  grave  and  sarcastic  humour:-— 

This  polyglot  of  wealth,  this  museum  of  curiosities,  the 
pension  list,  embraces  every  link  in  the  human  chain, 
every  description  of  men,  women,  and  children,  from  the 
exalted  excellence  of  a  Hawke  or  a  Rodney,  to  the 
debased  situation  of  the  ladj/  who  '  humbletb  herself  that 
she  may  be  exalted.'  But  the  lessons  it  inculcates  form  its 
greatest  perfection: — it  teacheth,  that  sloth  and  vice  may 
eat  that  bread,  which  virtue  and  honesty  may  starve  for, 
after  they  had  em-ned  it.  It  teaches  the  idle  and  dissolute 
to  look  up  for  that  support  which  they  are  too  proud  to 
stoop  and  earn.  It  directs  the  minds  of  men  to  an  entire 
reliance  on  the  sruling  power  of  the  state,  who  feed  the 
ravens  of  the  royal  aviary,  that  cry  continually  for  food. 
It  teaches  them  to  imitate  those  saints  on  the  pension  list, 
that  are  like  the  lilies  of  the  field — they  toil  not,  neither 
do  they  spin,  and  yet  are  arrayed  like  Solomon  in  his  glory. 
Ir  fine,  it  teaches  a  lesson  which  indeed  they  might  have 
learned  from  Epictetus — that  it  is  sometimes  good  not  to 


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324  CURRAN. 

be  over-virtnous :   it  shews,  that  in  proportion  as  our 
distresses  increase,  the  munificence  of  the  crown  increases 
also — in  proportion  as  our  clothes  are  rent,  the  royal 
mantle  is  extended  over  us.     But  notwithstanding  that 
the  pension  list,  like  charity,  covers  a  multitude  of  sins, 
give  me  leave  to  consider  it  as  coming  home  to  the  mem- 
bers of  this  house — »give  me  leave  to  say,  that  the  crown, 
in  extending  its  charity,  its  liberality,  its  profusion,  is  lay- 
ing a  foundation  for  the  independence  of  parliament;  for 
hereafter,  instead  of  orators  or  patriots  accounting  for 
thejr  conduct  to  such  mean  and  unworthy  persons  as  free- 
holders, they  will  learn  to  despise  them,  and  look  to  the 
'  first  man  in  the  state,  and  they  will  by  so  doing  have  this 
security  for  their  independence,  that  while  any  man  in  the 
kingdom  has  a  shilling  they  will  not  want  one.    Suppose 
at  any  future  period  of  time  the  boroughs  of  Ireland 
should  decline  from  their  present  flourishing  and  pros- 
perous state— suppose  they  should  fall  into  the   hands 
of  men  who  would  wish  to  drive  a  profitable  commerce, 
by  having  members  of  parliament  to  hke  or  let;  in  such  a 
case  a  secretary  would  find  great  di£Sculty  if  the  pro* 
prietors  of  members  should  enter  into  a  combinatipn  to 
form  a  monopoly ;  to  prevent  which  in  time,  the  wisest 
way  is  to  purchase  up  the  raw  material^  young  members  of. 
parliament,  just  rough  from  the  grass,  and  when  they  are 
a  little  bitledf  and  he  has  got  a  pretty  stud,  perhiips  of 
seventy,  he  may  laugh  at  the  slave-merchant:  some  of 
them  he  may  teach  to  sound  through  the  nose,  like  a 
barrel  organ ;  some,  in  the  course  of  a  few  months,  might 
be  taught  to  cry  ^hear!  hear!'  some,  'chair!  chair!'  upon 
occasiop^  though  -those  latter  might  create  a  little  confu- 
iioD,  if  they  were  lo  forget  whether  they  were  calling 
inside  or  outside  of  those  doors.    Again,  he  might  have 
some  so  trained  that  he  need  only  pull  a  string,  and  up 
gets  a  repeating  member;  and  if  they  were  so  dull  that 
they  could  neither  speak  nor  make  orations,  (for  they  are 
different  things)  he  might  have  them  taught  to  dance,  pedi* 
bus  ire  in  sentenlid. — 'i'his  improvement  mijght  be  extend- 


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CURRAN.  3^3 

«() ;  be  might  have  them  dressed  in  coats  and  shirts  all  of  one 
colour,  and  of  a  Sunday  he  might  march  them  to  church  two 
by  twoy  to  the  great  edification  of  the  people  and  the  honour 
of  the  christian  religion;  afterwards,  like  ancient  Spartans, 
or  the  fraternity  of  Kilmainham,  they  might  dine  all  toge^ 
ther  in  a  large  hall.  Good  heaven !  what  a  sight  to  see 
them  feeding  in  pdblic  upon  public  viands,  and  talking  of 
public  subjects  for  the  benefit  of  the  public!  It  is  a  pity 
they  are  not  immortal;  but  1  hope  they  will  flourish  as  a 
corporation,  and  that  pensioners  will  beget  pensioners  to 
the  end  of  the  chapter." 

Notwithstanding  the  latitude  to  which  freedom  of 
speech  is  sometimes  indulged  in  the  house  of  commons,  and 
the  personal  stings  thus  inflicted  without  provoking  personal 
resentment,  matters  are  sometimes  carried  beyond  the 
pitch  of  senatorial  gravity,  or  philosophic  paftience;-  the 
interchange  of  invective  between  Mr.  Curran  and  some  of 
his  political  antagonists,  has  at  times  led  to  personal 
hostilities  out  of  doors.  In  the  Duke  of  Rutland's  vice- 
royalty,  Mr.  Fitzgibbon,  the  attorney-general  (afterwards 
lord  chancellor  Clare)  issued  an  attachment  against  the 
high  sheriff  of  the  county  of  Dublin  (a  Mr.  OReilly),  for 
complying  with  a  requisition  of  certain  freeholders,  by 
calling  a  meeting  to  elect  members  for  a  conventional 
congress  to  effect  a  parliamentary  reform.  This  incident 
led  to  an  animated  discussion  in  the  house  of  commons,  in 
which  the  question  of  attachments  caused  considerable 
disquisition,  and  was  argued  with  much  zeal  and  learning. 
When  Mr.  Curran  rose  to  speak,  the  attorney-general, 
who!^  professional  as  well  as  political  character  was 
deeply  inyolved,  sunk  into  a  real  or  affected  doze,  in  his 
seat: — **  I  hope,"  said  Mr.  Curran, "(indignant  at  what  he 
conceived  contemptuous  apathy,)  ''  I  may  be  allowed  to 
speak  to  this  great  question,  without  disturbing  the  sleep 
of  any  right  honourable  member:  and  yet,  perhaps,  I 
ought  rather  to  envy  than  blame  his  tranquillity;  t  do  not 
feel  myself  so  happily  tempered  as  to  be  lulled  to  rest  by 
the  storms  that  shake  the  land :  but  if  they  invite  rest  to 


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SS6  CURRAN. 

aoyi  that  rest  ought  not  to  be  lavished  on  the  guiU^ 
spirit:* 

When  he  had  concluded  his  speech,  the  attorney-gene- 
raly  having  replied  to  his  arguments,  concluded  by  desiring 
that  **  no  puny  babbler  should  attempt,  with  vile,  unfamM 
columns/  to  blast  the  venerable  character  of  the  judges  of 
the  land." 

Mr.  Curran  immediately  rose,  and  retorted — "The  gen- 
tleman has  called  me  a  puny  babbler — I  do  not  indeed 
recollect  that  there  were  sponsors  at  the  baptismal  font^ 
nor  was  there  any  occasion,  as  the  infant  had  promised  and 
vowed  so  many  things  in  his  own  name*  Indeed,  Sir, 
I  find  it  difficult  to  reply,  for  I  am  not  accustomed  to 
panegyrise  myself.  I  do  not  well  know  how  to  do  so,  hot 
iinct  1  cannot  tell  the  house  what  I  am,  I  will  tell  then» 
whajt  I  9caimot  :^— I  am  not  a  young  man  whose  respect  in 
person  and  character  depends  upon  the  importance  of  his 
office;— I  an>  not  a  man  who  thrusts  himself  into  the  fore- 
ground of  a  picture  which  ought  to  be  occupied  by  a 
better  figure;*—!  am  not  a  man  who  replies  by  invectiVe, 
when  sinking  under  the  weight  of  argun^eot; — I  an?  r^ot  a 
mon  who  denied  the  necessity  of  parliamentary  reform,  at 
the  time  be  proved  the  expediency  of  \%  by  reviling  his 
own  con^titnents,  the  parish  clerk,  the  sexton,  and  the 
grave-digger  (Mr.  F^  was  member  for  a  rotten  borongh); 
and  if  there  be  any  man  here  who  can  apply  what  Jam  net 
to  himself f  I  leave  him  to  think  of  it  in  the  committee^  and 
contemplate  it  when  be  goes  home.''  The  conseqoeace  of 
this  altercation  wa«  a  message  from  Mr^Fitzgibbon*  The 
parties  meit,  and  exchanged  shots  without  injury;  and 
thus  the  a£&ir  ended,  without  apology  or  explanation. 

He  once  liad  an  affair  with  his  friend  Mrt  Egan;  but 
neither  were  hurt. 

Now  that  we  are  on  the  subject  of  duels,  Mr*  CurraOf 
long  subsequent  to  this  incident,  was  involved  in  another 
duel,  perhaps  not  so  creditable  to  his  spirit.  A  gentiemaaf 
who  held  a  place  in  the  customs,  was  one  of  the  pa)rlja- 
mentary  reporters  employed  at  the  charge  of  government. 


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CURRAN.  3£7 

to  attettd  the  hpQse  of  commons,  and  deUil  the  debates 
there,  with  doe  attentjoa  to  the  mioisterial  speakers,  whose 
speeoheft  were  either  vfiry  partially  given,  or  wholly  sop- 
peessed,  ia  the  popular  prints  of  the  day.    To  this  gen* 
Uemao,  who  was  certainly  a  man  of  very  competent  ability, 
and  who  was  sitting  in  the  gallery  one  night,  Mr.  Corran, 
in  one  of  his  phillipics  against  the  profusion  of  ministers, 
alluded  personally,  by  a  very  gross    epithet,    charging 
ministers  with  *^  sending  a  miscreant  into  that  gallery,  at 
the    public  expense,  to  misrepresent   the  speeches   of 
members  on  that  side  of  the  house."    He  mentioned  no 
name;  and  if  he  had,  it  would  have  been  a  breach  of  pri^ 
vilege  to  call  a  member  to  account  out  of  doors  for  words 
uttered  in  parliament.    The  next  day,  however,  this  gen<^ 
Ueman  saw  Mr.  Curran  in  the  street,  in  company  with 
his  friend  Mr.  Egaa,  and  6hook  his  walking-stick  at  him 
across  the  way.     Mr.  Curran,  perhaps,  thinking  it  beneath 
bis  dignity  to  notice  the  person  from  whom  this  affront  pro- 
ceeded, took  another  course,  which  he  probably  thought 
more  honourable,  and  which  was  to  send  his  friend  Mr. 
Egan,  with  a  fnessage    to   the  chief  sei;retary.  Major 
Hobart  (the  late  Earl  of  Buckinghamshire)  demanding 
this  alternative — either,  tliat  he  should  immediately  dis<- 
miss  the  offender  from  his  place  in  the  customs,  or  meet 
Mr.  Curran  in  the  field.    Major  Hobart,  with  great  calm- 
ness, answered  that  he  had  jiothiag  to  do  with  the  private 
quarrels  of  the  gentleman  in  question;  nor  could   he 
assume  any  control  over  his  conduct  beyond  the  line  of 
his  office:  but,  as  he  had  always  understood  he  was  a 
faithful  public  officer  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty,  he  cerr 
tainly  could  not  think  of  dismissing  him  for  the  private 
cause  stated.    Mr.  Egan  then  mentioned  the  other  alter- 
native :  to  which  Major  Hobart  repli^,  that  it  was  some- 
what singular.he  should  be  called  on  thus  by  a  gentleman 
with  whom  he  hi^d  no  personal  difference;  however,  he 
was  a  soldier,  and  did  not  consider  himself  at  liberty  to 
decline  the  invitation.  The  parties  met,  with  their  seconds. 
Mf.  Curran  called  on  his  antagonist  to  fire  first.    Miyor 


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S2g  CURE  AN. 

Hobart  declined,  saying  he  came  there  to  gtoCf  and  not  t0 
takty  satisfaction.  Mr.Curran  then  fired,  without  effect, 
and  again  called  on  Major  Hobart,  who  had  /eserved  hi» 
shot,  but  declined  firing.  Mr.  Curran  said  he  could  not 
fire  until  the  major  took  his  turn.  The  major  still  refused ; 
and  said  the  gentleman  might  use  his  own  discretion,  and 
fire  again  if  he  pleased.  This  produced  a  short  pause, 
and  some  conversation  between  Mr.  Curran  and  His 
seconds.  Major  Hobart,  after  waiting  some  time,  desired 
to  know  if  the  gentleman  had  any  further  commands  for 
him  f  Wi^ich  being  answered  in  the  negative,  as  he  would 
not  fire,  he  bowed,  and  walked  coolly  off  the  ground  to 
his  carriage.  The  triumph  in  this  affair  certainly  was  not 
with  Mr.  Curran. 

The  animosity  of  Mr.  Fitzgibbon  towards  Mr.  Curran, 
by  no  means  terminated  in  the  affair  of  their  duel.   Parlia- 
mentary discussion  frequently  brought  them  into  contact. 
Both  were  men  of  first-rate  talents,  equally  prone  to  irrita- 
tion and  keen  asperity ;  constantly  opposed  on  every  great 
subject  of  debate;  and,  like  two  thunder  clouds,  they 
rarely  approached  each  other  without  reciprocally  exciting 
electric  sparks,  which  shewed  a  constant  aptitude   for 
mutual  explosion.     Mr.  Fitzgibbon  was  proud  and  dis- 
dainful; and  apt  to  mark,  by  his  manner,  a  feeling  of 
conscious  superiority   towards   those  he  considered   his 
inferiors  in  connection,  rank,  and  authority.     Mr.  Curraa 
probably  felt  himself  assorted  amongst  the  number,  and 
scorned  to  succumb ;  few,  if  any,  occasions  were  suffered 
to  pass  without  marking  this  feeling.     But  an  incident 
occurred  which  gave  Mr.  Fitzgibbon  a  permanent  oppor^ 
tunity  of  marking  his  peculiar  hostility  to  Mr.  Curran, 
iaBnitely  more  illustrative  of  an  implacable  spirit,  than  of 
a  mind  fitted  to  the  high  station  to  which  his  political 
stars  had  destined  him. — In  short,  the  old  chancellor.  Lord 
Lifford,  died  about  the  time  of  his  majesty's  first  mental 
malady,  and   the  long  and  ardent  services  of  Mr..  Fitz- 
gibbon against  the  opposition  phalanx  in  parliament,  and 
against  every  symptom  of  popular  spirit  out  of  it,  crowned 


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CURRAN.  3£9 

by  his  marked  opposition  to  the  regency  question,  tindier 
Lord  Buckingham's  vice-royalty,  recommended  him  to  the 
vacant  seals  and  woolsack ;  and  he  changed  his  office  of 
diabolus  regis  for  that  of  custos  consdenlia. 

On  taking  leave  of  the  bar,  he  marked  his  respect  for 
the  talents  of  Mr.  Ponsonby,  a  strong  political  opponent, 
by  presenting  that  gentleman  with  his  bag  of  briefs  ;  but 
he  carried  with  him  to  the  chancery  bench  all  his  hostility 
to  Mr.  Curran,  who,  from  the  notoriety  of  this  fact,  soon 
felt  its  effects  in  the  rapid  decay  of  his  chancery  business, 
which  liad  been  by  far  the  most  lucrative  branch  of  his 
practice.  For  this  misfortune  there  was  no  practical  re- 
medy, because,  if  even  Mr.  Curran  had  not  been  too  proud 
for  conciliatory  remonstrance,  or  obsequious  humility,  the 
chancellor  was  of  too  unrelenting  a  disposition  to  relax 
his  old  resentments — the  ear  of  the  judge  was  to  Curran, 
like  the  ^^  Dull  cold  ear  of  death.^*  The  chancery  solicitors 
observed  this  marked  hostility;  the  client  participated  in 
the  disfavour  of  his  counsel,  whose  practice  was  soon 
reduced  exclusively  to  Nisi  Prius.  ^'  1  made,"  said  he,  in 
a  letter  to  Mr.  Grattan  twenty  years  afterwards^  **  no 
compromise  with  power;  I  had  the  merit  of  provoking 
and  despising  the  personal  malice  of  every  man  in  Ireland 
who  was  known,  to  be  the  enemy  of  the  country.  With- 
out the  walls  of  the  courts  of  justice,  my  character  was 
pursued  with  the  most  persevering  slander;  and  within 
those  walls,  though  I  was  too  strong  to  be  beaten  down 
by  judicial  malignity,  it  was  not  so  with  my  clients;  and 
my  consequent  losses  in  professional  income  have  never 
been  estimated  at  less,  as  you  must  have  often  heard,  than 
thirty  thousand  pounds  a  year.'' 

While  Mr*  Curran  smarted  under  the  rapid  extenuation 
of  his  chancery  practice,  a  ludicrous  occasion  occurred  for 
marking  his  cool  and  contemptuous  feeling  for  the  noble 
author.  Lord  Clare,  who,  when  off  the  bench,  assumed 
as  proud  a  disregard  for  the  decorous  formalities  of  his 
station,  as  for  his  importance  in  it,  generally  walked  to  his 
court,  accompanied  by  a  large  favourite  Newfoundland  dog. 


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330  CURRAN- 

which  became  afterwards  bis  associate  on  the  bendi;  and 
one  day  while  Mr*  Curran  addressed  his  lordship  in  a  most 
elaborate  argument,  the  chancellor,  as  if  to  mark  his 
utter  disregard,  amused  himself  by  foqdliqg  his  dog,  to 
whi(^  he  paid  much  more  attention  than  to  the  learned 
advocate.  Tbis  gross  indecency  was  observed  by  the 
whole  ban  Mr.  Curran  stopped  for  some  time,  but  the 
chancellor  missing  his  voice,  and  twitched  by  his  silence, 
to  an  effort  of  attention,  said  with  an  air  of  the  coldest 
indifference,  *'  Proceed,  Mr.  Curran,  proceed."  "  I  beg 
pardon,  my  lards^'*  answered  Curraq,  ^'  I  really  thought 
your  lordships  were  employed  in  consultation,  but  as  your 
lordships  are  now  at  leisure,  I  will  proceed, — then  my 
lords,  as  I  have  already  observed  to  your  lordships." — ^The 
dog  and  his  master  were  so  aptly  and  so  ludicrously  con* 
joined  in  this  allusion,  that  his  lordship,  with  marked  chih 
grin,  thought  fit  to  dismiss  his  shaggy  tice<h(nceUort  and 
resume  his  attention,  perhaps  more  to  the  symptoms  of 
suppressed  laughter  that  mantled  on  the  countenances  of 
the  whole  bar,  than  to  the  arguments  of  the  learned  adr 
vocate. 

But  although  Mr.  Curran  wa^  debarred  of  redress  in 
that  court  where  his  ennobled  adversary  ruled  paramount, 
an  incident  occurred  in  the  city  which  gave  him  the 
opportunity  of  taking  as  ample  a  revenge  before  a  bi^er 
tribunal,  as  the  junction  of  his  talents  and  indignation 
could  suggest.  In  the  year  1790,  a  dispute  arose  between 
hostile  parties  in  the  corporation  about  the  choice  of  a 
lord  mayor  for  the  ensuing  year.  The  sheriffs  and  com- 
mop-council  elected  a  popular  alderman,  named  Harrison, 
but  the  board  of  aldermen  refused  their  sanction  to  this 
phoice,  and  elected  a  worshipfql  brother,  of  quite  opposite 
principles,  named  James,  as  the  chief  magistrate  next  In 
rotation,  but  whom  the  commons  on  their  part  rcjectedj. 
By  certain  rules  long  established  by  the  privy  counpil^ 
^nder  the  authority  of  an  act  of  parliament,  qo  man  could 
be  lord  mayor  unless  first  approved  by  the  viceroy  '\^ 
counpil;  and  those  rules  directed,  that  in  case  of  such  disf 


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CURRAN.  S3\ 

ptttes  as  thisy  the  lord-li^yiteaaqt  aod  privy  council  for  the 
time  beiog^  8boiiI4  be  the  umpires.  Appeal  was  accord* 
iogly  made  to  tbeip^  by  petitions  from  both  bodies.  A 
djB^y'fox  hearing  was  appointedi — the  privy  council  assem«> 
bled,-^Lord  Westmorland,  then  viceroy,  presided  at  the 
board. — liOrd  Clare  was  also  present. — Mr.  Ponsonby  and 
Mr.  Curran  attended  as  counsel  for  the  commons  in  sup* 
port  of  AJderman  Harrison.  The  council  was  extremely 
folly  and  the  counqil-chamber  thronged  with  respectable 
citizens,  Wbep  it  pfime  to  Mr.  Gurran's  turn  to  address 
the  board,  he  did  so  in  perhaps  one  of  the  most  eloquent 
orations  he  ever  yttered^  and  of  which  the  fpllowing  are 
but  very  short  extr^c^s. 

"  But)  my  lords,  bow  must  these  considerations  (former 
contests  of  a  similar  kind,  and  laws  enacted  for  their  ad- 
justment) have  been  enforced  by  a  view  of  Ireland  as  a 
connected  country,  deprived  as  it  was  of  almost  all  the 
advantages  of  a  hereditary  monarch :  the  father  of  his 
people  residing  at  a  distance,  and  the  paternal  beams 
reflected  upon  his  children  through  such  a  variety  of 
ffudiumsy  sometimes  too  languidly  to  warn  them^ — some- 
times so  intensely  as  to  consume  them: — a  succession  of 
governors  differing  from  each  other  in  their  tempers,  in 
their  talents^  in  their  virtues,  and  of  course  in  their  systems 
of  administrations.  Unprepared  in  general  for  rule,  by 
any  previous  institution ;  and  utterly  unacquainted  with 
the  people  they  were  to  govern,  and  with  the  men  through 
whose  agency  they  were  to  act*  Sometimes,  my  lordly 
'tis  true  a  rare  individual  appeared  amongst  us,  as  if  sent 
by  the  bounty  of  Providence  in  compassion  for  human 
tniseriesy  marked  by  that  digni&ed  simplicity  of  manly 
character  .which  is  the  mingled  result  of  enlightened  ud- 
derstaQdiog,  and  elevated  int^rity,  commanding  a  respect 
that  be  laboured  not  to  inspire*.  It  is  but  ^igbt  years 
since  we  saw  such  a  man  amongst  us  raising  a  degraded 
cpfiqtiy  froQ^  the  condition  of  a  province  to  the  rank  and 

«>  AUuding  to  the  Dake  of  PMUmmI,  i|mkr  wbMn  Ireland  comptetod  her 
iiKlepeiideot  constitqtuNi. 


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SM  CURRAN. 

consequence  of  a  people,  worthy  to  be  the  ally  of  a  mighty 
empire,  on  the  firm  and  honourable  basis  of  equal  liberty 
and  a  common  fate,  standing  or  falling  with  Great  Britain. 
But  how  short  is  the  continuance  of  those  auspicious 
gleams  of  public  sunshine !  How  soon  are  they  past,  per- 
haps for  ever!  In  what  rapid  and  fatal  revolution  has 
Ireland  seen  the  talents  and  the  virtues  of  such  men  give 
place  to  a  succession  of  sordid  parade  and  empty  preten- 
sion; of  bloated  promise  and  lank  performance;  of  austere 
hypocrisy  and  peculating  economy.  Hence  it  is,  my  lords, 
that  the  administration  of  Ireland  so  often  presenu  to  the 
reader  of  her  history,  the  view  not  of  a  legitimate  govern- 
ment, but  rather  of  an  encampment  in  the  country  of  a 
barbarous  enemy ;  where  the  object  of  the  invader  is  not 
dominion,  but  conquest.  Where  he  is  obliged  to  resort  to 
the  corruption  of  the  clans,  or  of  single  individuals,  pointed 
out  to  his  notice  by  public  abhorrence,  and  recommended 
to  his  confidence  only  by  a  treachery  so  rank  and  consum- 
mate, as  precludes  all  possibility  of  their  return  to  private 
virtue,  or  to  public  reliance;  and  therefore,  only  put  into 
authority  over  a  wretched  country,  condemned  to  the  tor- 
ture of  all  that  petulant,  unfeeling  asperity  with  which  a 
narrow  and  malignant  mind  will  bristle,  in  its  unmerited 
elevation ;  condemned  to  be  betrayed,  and  disgraced,  and 
exhausted  by  the  little  traitors  that  have  been  suffered  to 
nestle  and  to  grow  within  it,  making  it  at  once  the  source 
of  their  grandeur,  and  the  victim  of  their  vices:  reducing 
it  to  the  melancholy  necessity  of  supporting  their  conse- 
quence, and  of  sinking  under  their  crimes,  like  the  lion 
perishing  by  the  poison  of  a  reptile  that  finds  shelter  in 
the  mane  of  the  noble  animal,  while  it  stings  him  to 
death.'* 

**  In  this  very  chamber  did  the  chancellor  and  judges 
sit  (fit  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne  and  ike  chancellorship  of 
Mr.  Constantine  Phipps)  with  all  the  gravity  and  affected 
attention  to  arguments  in  favour  of  that  liberty,  and  those 
rights  which  they  had  conspired  to  destroy.  But  to  what 
end,  my  lords,  offer  argument  to  such  men  ?  A  little  and  a 


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CURRAN.  sss 

peevish  mind  may  be  exasperated^  and  bow  shall  it  be  cor- 
rected by  refutation  ?  How  fruitless  would  it  have  been  to 
represent  to  that  wretched  chancellor,  that  he  was  betray- 
ing those  rights  which  he  was  sworn  to  maintain;— that 
he  was  involving  a  government  in  disgrace,  and  a  kingdom 
in  panic  and  consternation ;  that  he  was  violating  every 
sacred  duty,  and  every  solemn  engagement,  that  bound 
him  to  his  sovereign,  his  country,  and  his  God  ! — Alas ! — 
my  lords,  by  what  argument  could  any  man  hope  to  re- 
claim or  dissuade  a  mean,  illiberal,  and  unprincipled  minion 
of  anthority,  induced  by  his   profligacy  to   undertake, 
and  bound  by  his  avarice  and  vanity  to  persevere  i  He 
would  probably  have  replied  to  the  most  unanswerable 
arguments  by  some  curt,  contumelious,  and  unmeaning 
apophthegm,  delivered  with  the  fretful  smile  of  irritated 
self-sufficiency,  and  disconcerted  arrogance ;  or  even  if  he 
should  be  dragged  by  his  fears  to  a  consideration  of  the 
question,  by  what  miracle  could  the  pigmy  capacity  of  a 
stnnted  pedant  be  enlarged  to  a  reception  of  the  subject  ? 
The  endeavour  to  approach-  it  would  have  only  removed 
him  to  a  greater  distance  than  he  was  before,  as  a  little 
band  that  strives  to  grasp  a  mighty  globe,  is  thrown  back 
by  the  reaction  of  its  own  effort  to  comprehend.    It 
may  be  given  to  a  Halb  or  a  Hardwicke  to  discover 
and  retract  a  mistake.    The  errors  of  such  men  are  only 
specks  that  arise  for  a  moment  on  the  surface  of  a  splen- 
did luminary,  consumed  by  its  heat  or  irradiated  by   its 
lighti  they  soon  disappear.  But  the  perverseness  of  a  mean 
and  narrow  intellect  are  like  the  excrescences  that  grow 
on  bodies  naturally  cold  and  dark ;  no  fire  to  waste  them, 
and  no. ray  to  enlighten,  they  assimilate  and  coalesce  with 
those  qualities  so  congenial  to  their  nature;  and  acquire 
an  incorrigible  permanency  in  the  union  with  kindred 
frost  and  kindred  opacity.     Nor  indeed,  my  lords,  except 
where  the  interest  of  millions  can  be  affected  by  the  vice 
or  the  folly  of  an  individual,  need  it  be  much  regretted 
^t  to  things  not  worthy  of  being  made  better,  it  hath 


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334  CURRAN. 

not  pleased  Providence  to  afford  the  privilege  of  improve* 
ment." 

This  description  of  Mr.  Constantine  Phipps  was  bat  ar 
masked  battery  playing  on  the  character  of  Lord  Clare ; 
every  ^hot  told  upon  his  feelings,  and  on  those  of  th^ 
whole  auditory. 

Amongst  all  the  parliamentary  antagonists  of  Mr.  Ctfr- 
ran,  there  was  none  who  more  sorely  writhed  under  his 
tooth,  than  Dr.  Duigenan.  The  former  was  the  zealous  ad- 
vocate for  the  catholic^ — the  latter  their  most  furious  and 
bigotted  antagonist.  Whenever  the  question  of  their 
emabcipatiou  was  agitated  in  parliament,  the  Doctor  was 
unmuzzled  and  let  loose  to  oppose  them ;  and  usually  dis- 
charged upon  their  history,  their  principles,  their  character, 
and  religion,  and  even  upon  their  advocates,  such  a  torrent 
of  abuse,  as  sometimes  shocked  even  the  nerves  of  his 
own  partisans.  '*  He  scortied  any  thing,'' says  Mr.Grattan, 
''which  was  classical, moderate,  or  refined,and  preferred  as 
more  effectual,  the  foul,  the  gross  and  scandalous ; — that, 
with  all  the  garbage  his  imagination  could  collect,  with 
whatever ^»€ri  the Jishinark^ could  furnish,  everything 
which  the  streets  could  administer  to  the  learned  Doctor's 
taste  and  refinement,  he  assailed  all  men,  and  all  bodies 
of  men,  overlaid  them  with  such  a  profusion  of  filth,  as 
to  amaze  all  who  were  not  acquainted  with  the  ways  and 
customs  of  the  learned  Doctor." 

He  had  attacked  Mr.  Curran,  in  the  debate  on  the 
catholic  question  in  1796;  but  Mr.  Curran,  in  his  reply 
to  the  Doctor,  lightened  upon  him  for  half  an  hour,  and 
effectually  nnged  him  by  the  flashes  of  his  wit. 

'*  The  learned  Doctor,"  he  said,  **  had  made  himself  a 
very  prominent  feature  in  the  debate ;  furious  indeed  had 
been  his  anger,  and  manifold  his  attacks.  What  ailment, 
what  man,  or  what  thing  had  he  not  abused  ;  half  choked 
by  his  rage  in  striving  to  refute  those  who  had  spoken,  he 
had  relieved  himself  by  abusing  those  who  had  not  spoken. 
He  had  abused  the  catholics,  their  ancestors ;  he  had  abused 


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CURRAN.  SS5 

the  merchants  of  Ireland ;  he  had  abused  Mr.  Burke ;  he 
had  abused  those  who  voted  for  the  order  of  the  day.  I  do 
not  know  (continued  he)  but  I  ought  to  thank  the  learned 
Doctor  for  honouring  me  with  a  place  in  his  invective,  lie 
has  stjied  me  the  bottle-holder  of  my  right  honourable 
friend  (Mr.  Grattan),  but  sure  I  am,  that  if  I  had  been 
the  bottle-holder  of  both,  the  learned  Doctor  would  have 
less  reason  to  complain  of  me  than  my  right  honourable 
friend ;  for  him  I  should  have  left  perfectly  sober,  whilst 
it  would  clearly  appear,  that  the  bottle^  with  respect  to  the 
learned  Doctor,  would  have  been  managed,  not  only  fairly 
but  generously ;  and  that  if,  in  furnishing  him  with  liquor 
I  had  not  furnished  him  with  argument,  1  had  at  least  fur- 
nished him  with  a  good  excuse  for   wanting  it;  with, 
indeed,  the  best  excuse  for  that  confusion  of  history,  and 
divinity,  and  civil  law,  and  common  law;  that  heteroge-^ 
neons  mixture  of  politics,  and  theology,  and  antiquity,  with 
which  he  has  overwhelmed  the  debate,  and  the  havoc  and 
carnage  he  has  made  of  the  population  of  the  last  age,  and 
the  fury  with  which  he  has  seemed  determined  to  extermi- 
nate, and  even  to  devour  the  population  of  this,  and  which 
urged  him,  after  tearing  the  character  of  the  catholics,  to 
spend  the  last  efforts  of  his  rage  with  the  most  relentless 
ferocity  in  actually  gnawing  their  names,  (alluding  to  the 
Doctor's  enunciation  of  the  nameofJTeogfA,  which  he  pro- 
nounced Keoaugh).    In  truth.  Sir,"  continued  he,  "  I  felt 
some  surprise,  and  some  regret,  when  I  heard  him  describe 
the  Mceptre  of  lath,  and  tiara  of  straw  ;  and  mimic  his  bed- 
lamite emperor  and  pope,  with  such  refined  and  happy 
gesticulation,  that  he  could   be  prevailed  on  to  quit  so 
congenial  a  company.   I  should  not,  however,  be  disposed 
to  hasten  his  return  to  them,  or  to  precipitate  the  access  of 
his  fit,  if  by  a  most  unlucky  felicity  of  indiscretion,  he  had 
not  dropped  some  doctrines  which  the  silent  approbation 
of  the  minister  seemed  to  adopt.  I  do  not  mean,  amongst 
those  doctrines,  to  place  the  learned  Doctor's  opinion  of 
the  revolution,  nor  his  wise  and  valorous  plan  in  case  of 
invasion,  to  arm  the  beadles  and  the  sextons,  and  put 


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336  CURRAN.- 

himself  io  wind  for  an  attack  on  the  French  by  a  massacre 
of  the  papists.  The  opinion  I  mean  is,  that  catholic  fran- 
chise is  inconsistent  with  British  connections.  Strong, 
indeed,  must  the  minister  be  in  so  wild  and  desperate  a 
prejudice,  if  he  can  venture,  in  the  present  fallen  state  of 
this  empire,  under  the  disasters  of  w^r,and  with  an  enemy 
at  our  gates,  if  he  can  dare  to  state  to  the  great  body  of 
the  Irish  nation,  that  their  slavery  is  the  condition  of  our 
connection  with  England  :t— that  she  is  more  afraid  of  yield- 
ing Irish  liberty,  than  of  losing  Irish  connection;  and 
though  the  denunciation  is  not  yet  upon  record,  yet  it.  may 
be  left  with  the  learned  Doctor,  who,  I  hope,  ha&r  embraced 
it  only  to  make  it  odious ;  has  hugged  in  his  arms  only 
with  the  generous  purpose  of  plunging  with  it  into  the 
deep,  and  exposing  it  to  merited  derision,  by  hazard- 
ing the  character  of  his  own  sanity.  It  is  yet  in  the 
power  of  the  minister  to  decide,  whether  a  blasphemy 
of  this  kind  shall  pass  for  the  mere  ravings  of  polemical 
phrenzy,  or  for  the  solemn  and  mischievous  lunacy  of  a 
chief  secretary  :  1  call  therefore  again  on  that  minister,  to 
rouse  him  from  his  trance,  and  in  the  hearing  of  both 
countries,  to  put  the  question  to  him,  which  must  be 
beard  by  a  third,  whether,  at  no  period,  upon  no  event, 
at  no  extremity,  are  we  to  hope  for  any  connection  with 
Great  Britain,  except  that  of  the  master  and  the  slave ; 
and  this,  even  without  the  assertion  of  any  fact  that  can 
support  such  a  proscription.'' 

During  the  administration  of  Lord  Rockingham,  Earl 
Fitzwilliam  was  sent  viceroy  to  Ireland,  and  hailed  by  the 
whole  country  as  the  harbinger  of  conciliation  and  peace; 
and  it  was  expected  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  all  the 
leading  members  who  had  most  strenuously  advocated 
those  measures  in  Ireland,  which  Lord  Rockingham  and 
Mr.  Fox  had  supported  in  England,  would  be  called  into 
office,  under  Earl  Fitzwilliam.  This  expectation,  how- 
ever, was  not  fulfilled;  for  although  Mr.  Grattan  and 
Mr.  Ponsonby  were  called  to  high  and  confidential  situa- 
tions, as  were  some  others  of  their  friends,  Mr.  Curraa 


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CURRAN.  337 

and  Mr.  Egan  were  passed  by  unnoticed^  and  both  felt  the 
circumstance  with  disappolDtment  and  chagrin.  The 
reign  of  the  new  elives  was,  however,  but  short;  for 
Earl  Fitz William,  debarred  by  a  majority  of  the  British 
cabinet  who  sent  him,  from  fulfilling  the  promises  he  was 
authorised  to  hold  out,  demanded  his  recal :  Mr.  Grattan 
and  Mr.  Ponsonby  repassed  to  the  opposition  bench, 
and  Mr.  Curran  never  returned  to  a  seat  in  parliament 
after  the  next  dissolution,  which  took  place.  It  has 
before  been  stated,  that  parliament  was  not  the  theatre 
most  favourable  to  the  display  of  his  eloquence.  The  bar 
was  bis  best  field;  there  his  talents  had  long  shone  with 
refulgent  light:  but  there  was  comparatively  little  in  the 
forensic  arena  to  excite  their  full  force  previous  to  the 
point  of  time  at  which  Lord  Fitzwilliam  retired.  It  was 
during  the  agitated  state  of  the  country  which  speedily 
followed,  that  those  opportunities  occurred  in  the  govern- 
ment prosecutions  for  libels,  sedition,  and  high  treason, 
in  which  Mr,  Curran  was  usually  retained  for  the  accused 
parties,  that  his  eloquence  blazed  out  with  such  dazzling 
splendour,  and  formed  what  may  be  termed  the  Augustan 
era  of  his  extraordinary  talents.  His  speeches  on  those 
trials  have  been  collected  and  published  in  one  volume ; 
and  although  confessedly  under  the  disadvantage  of  im- 
perfect reports,  and  defective  of  his  own  revision  and 
amendments,  still  do  they  present  such  monuments  of  his 
oratorical  pov^ers,  as  if,  ever  equalled,  were  certainly  never 
surpassed  in  the  English  language,  and  which,  like  the 
classic  productions  of  Greece  and  Rome,  will  afford  per- 
manent models  worthy  the  emulation  of  future  orators.    * 

The  following  able  criticism  on  his  style  and  talents,  is 
extracted  from  the  Edinburgh  Review,  of  October  1814. 
— "  The  wits  of  Queen  Anne's  time,  practised  a  style  cha- 
racterised by  purity,  smoothness,  and  a  kind  of  simple  and 
temperate  elegance.  Their  reasoning  was  correct  and 
luminous,  and  their  raillery  terse  and  refined;  but  they 
never  so  much  as  aimed  at  touching  the  greater  passions, 
or  rising  to   the  loftier  graces  of  composition.    Theic 

VOL.  1.  z 


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S38  CURRAN. 

fublimity  was  little  more  tbao  a  graceful  and  gentle  soleiiH 
oitj;  their  inTectiye  went  no  farther  than  polished  sarcasm, 
nor  their  vehemence  than  pretty  viyacity.  Even  the  older 
writers  who  dealt  in  larger  views  and  stronger  language 
«-^the  Hookesy  and  Taylors,  and  Barrows,  and  Miltonsi 
although  they  possessed  beyond  all  doubt,  an  original  and 
commanding  eloquence,  had  little  of  nature,  or  rapid 
movement  of  passions  about  them.  Their  diction,  thoagh 
pow^ul,  is  loaded  and  laborious,  and  their  imagination, 
thoagh  rich  and  copious,  is  neither  playful  nor  popular ; 
even  the  celebrated  orators  of  England  have  deen  deficient 
in  some  of  their  characteristics.  The  rhetoric  of  Fox  was 
logic;  the  eloquence  of  Pitt  consisted  mainly  in  his  talent 
for  sarcasm,  and  for  sounding  amplification.  Neither  of 
them  had  much  pathos  and  but  little  play  of  fancy. 

Yet  the  style  of  which  we  speak  (Mr.  Curran's)  is  new 
familiar  to  the  English  public     It  was  introduced  by  an 
Irishman,  and   may  be  clearly  traced  to  the  genius  of 
BuRRB.    There  was  no  such  composition  known  in  £ng« 
lan^  before  his  day.     Bolingbroke,  whom  be  is  sometiaies 
said  to  have  copied,  bad  none  of  it;  he  is  infinitely  more 
careless ;  he  is  infinitely  less  impassioned ;  he  has  no  such 
variety  of  imagery— ^no  such  flights  of  poetry — no  such 
touches  of  tendeme8S**-no  such  visions  of  philosophy* 
The  style  has  been  defiled  since,  indeed,  by  base  imita- 
tions and  disgusting  parodies ;  and  in  its  more  imitable 
pans,  has  been  naturalised  and  transfused  into  the  recent 
literature  of  our  country  :  but  it  was  of  Irish  origin,  and 
still  attains  to  its  highest  honours  only  in  its  native  soil. 
For  this  we  appeal  to  the  whole  speaking  and  wriung  of 
that  nation,  to  the  speeches  of  Mr.  Grattani  and  even  to 
the  volume  before  us.     WiUi  less  of  deep  thought  than 
the  connected  compositions  of  Burke,  and  less  of  point 
and  polish  than  the  magical  effusions  of  Gratian,  it  still 
bears  the  impression  of  that  inflamed  fancy  which  charac- 
terises the  eloquence  of  both,  and  is  distinctly  assimilated 
to  them  by  those  traits  of  national  resemblance.'' 
In  attempting  to  select  passages  from  the  volume  alluded 


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CtlRRAN.  3S9 

tp  io  aJiQitratiao  of  the  opinioQ  of  this  judiciQus  critic, 
judgiaeQt  18  bewildered  amid  the  infinite  variety  of  b^an-r 
ties.  To  quote  every  excellence  would  be  alniost  to 
traoacribe  Hhein  entire.  They  ar€  like  portions  of  a  splen- 
did and  maaterly  picture,  each  a  part  of  one  great  whole, 
and  all  designed  to  reflect,  and  set  off  the  characters  and 
beauties  of  each  other.  It  is  in  fact  like  picking  brilliants 
from  their  tasteful  settings,  where  their  juxta^position 
doubles  f heir  splendour ;  or  taking  detached  features  and 
Bieoibers  from  the  Medicean  Venus,  or  the  Farnese  Her* 
cules,  to  give  adequate  notions  of  the  beauty,  or  the 
strength  which  the  entire  statues  can  alone  convey.  We 
have  ventured  to  cite  some  passages,  without,  however, 
presuming  to  say  they  are  the  best,-**'aQd  we  refer  the 
reader  to  the  last  edition  of  the  Speeches  themselves  for 
the  fuU  enjoyment  of  all  their  excellence. 

J«  the  trial  of  Major  Sirr,  upon  an  action  for  assault 
and  false  imprisonment  on  a  Mr.  Hevey,xme  of  the  nume- 
rous circumstanoea  of  wanton  i^rocity  distinctive  of  the 
period,  Mr.  Curran  gives  this  statement  of  the  transac- 
tion : — ''  On  the  8th  of  September  last,  Mr.  Hevey  was 
sitting  in  a  public  coffee-house,  Major  Sirr  was  there* 
Mr.  Hevey  was  informed  that  the  nuyor  had  at  that  mo- 
ment SAid,  be  (Hevey)  ought  to  havA  been  baaged.  The 
plaintiff  was  fired  at  the  charge;  he  fixed  bis  eye  on  Sirr, 
and  asked  if  be  ba^  dared  to  say  so  ?  3irf  declared  thai  he 
had,  and  said  it  truly.  Hevey  answered  that  he  was  a 
slanderous  scoundrel.  At  the  instant,  Sirr  rushed  upon 
him,  and,  assisted  by  three  or  four  of  his  satellites,  who 
had  Attended  bim  in  disguise,  secured  him  and  sent  him  to 
the  c^Ue  ^naid,  desiring  that  a  receipt  jnight  be  given 
for.th^  villain.— He  was  seot  4bither. — The  officer  .of  the 
guard  chanced  to  be  an  Englishman  but  latdy  arrived  in 
Ireland ;  he  said  to  the  constable, '  If  this  was  in  &igland, 
I  should  think  ibis  gentleman  entitled  to  bail.  But  1  don't 
know  jibe  laws  of  this  country;  however,  I  think  you  had 
better  Iposen  ibose  irons  upon  bis  wrists,  or  they  may 
kttlbim.' 


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340  CURRAN. 

^  Here  he  was  flung  into  a  room  of  aboat  thirteen  feet 
by  twelve.  It  was  called  the  *  hospital  of  the  provost/  It 
was  occapied  by  six  beds ;  on  which  were  to  lie  fourteen 
or  fifteen  miserable  wretches ;  some  of  them  sinking  under 
contagious  diseases.  Here  he  passed  the  first  night,  with- 
out bed  or  food.  The  next  morning  his  humane  keeper. 
Major  Sandys,  appeared.  The  plaintiff  demanded  why 
he  was  imprisoned  ?  complained  of  hunger;  and  asked  for 
the  gaol  allowance.  Major  Sandys  replied,  by  a  torrent 
of  abuse,  which  he  concluded  by  saying,  ^  Your  crime  is 
your  insolence  to  Major  Sirr;  however,  he  disdains  to 
trample  upon  you.  You  may  appease  him  by  proper  and 
contrite  submission  ;  but,  unless  you  do  so,  you  shall  rot 
where  you  are.  I  tell  you  this,  that,  if  government  will 
not  protect  us,  by  God  we  will  not  protect  them.  You 
will  probably  (for  1  know  your  insolent  and  ungrateful 
hardiness)  attempt  to  get  out  by  an  habeas  corpus ;  but, 
in  that  you  will  find  yourself  mistaken,  as  such  a  rascal 
deserves.'  Hevey  was  insoknt  enough  to  issue  an  habeas 
corpus;  and  a  return  was  made  upon  it,  that  Hevey  was 
in  custody  under  a  warrant  from  General  Craig,  on  a 
charge  of  high  treason ;  which  return  was  grossly  false." 

**  If,"  says  the  reviewer,  "  it  be  the  test  of  supreme 
genius  to  produce  strong  and  permanent  emotions,  the 
passages  which  we  have  quoted  must  be  in  the  very  highest 
style  of  eloquence.  There  is  not  a  subject  of  these  king- 
doms, we  hope,  that  can  read  them  without  feeling  his 
blood  boil,  and  bis  heart  throb  with  indignation;  and 
without  feeling  that  any  government,  which  could  tolerate 
or  connive  at  such  proceedings,  held  out.  a  bounty  to 
rebellion  which  it  would  be  almost  dastardly  to  reject. 
The  eloquence  of  these  passages  is  the  facts  they  recite ; 
and  it  is  far  more  powerful  than  that  which  depends  x»poa 
the  mere  fancy  or  art  of  the  orator." 

There  are  many  passages,  however,  of  this  description 
in  the  volume  before  us,  which  deserves  to  be  quoted. 
— Mr.  Curran  is  giving  a  specimen  of  the  state  of  his 
country,  at  the  time  that  General  Abercrombie^  afier  bis 


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CURRAN.  341 

appointment  to  the  chief  command  of  the  army,  retired 
in  disgust  at  its  utter  want  of  discipline,  and  the  licen- 
tious horrors  it  was  daily  extending  through  the  country; 
infinitely  better  calculated  to  excite  rebellion  than  deter 
and  suppress  it. 

*'  If,  for  instance,"  says  he,  *'  you  wish  to  convey  to  the 
mind  of  an  English  matron  the  horrors  of  that  direful 
period,  when,  in  defiance  of  the  remonstrance  of  the  ever- 
to-be-lamented  Abercrombie,  our  people  were  surrendered 
to  the  licentious  brutality  of  the  soldiery,  by  the  authority 
of  the  state,  you  would  vainly  endeavour  to  give  her  a 
general  picture  of  lust,  and  rapine,  and  murder,  and  con- 
flagration.   Instead  of  exhibiting  the  picture  of  an  entife 
province,  select  a  single  object; — do  not  release  the  ima^ 
gination  of  your  hearer  from  its  task,  by  giving  more  than 
an  outline.    Take  a  cottage  ;  place  the  affrighted  mother 
of  her  orphan  daughter^  at  the  door;   the  paleness  of 
death  upon  her  countenance,  and  more  than  its  agonies 
in  her  heart.    Her  aching  eye,  her  anxious  ear  struggles 
through  the  mists  of  closing  day  to  catch  the  approaches 
of  desolation  and  dishonour.    The  ruffian  gang  arrives, — 
the  feast  of  plunder  begins'— the  cup  of  madness  kindles 
in  its  circulation.    The  wandering  glances  of  the  ravisber 
become  concentrated  upon  the  devote4  victim.    You  need 
not  dilate, — you  need  not  expatiate.  The  unpolluted  motlier 
to  whom  you  tell  the  story  of  horror,  beseeches  you  not 
to  proceed.    She  presses  her  child  to  her  bosom, — she 
drowns  it  in  her  tears.    Her  fancy  catches. more  than  an 
angel's  tongue  could  describe;  at  a  single  view  she  takes 
in  the  whole  miserable  succession  of  f^rce,  of  profit- 
nation,  of  despair,  of  death.     So  it  is  in  the  queistion 
before  us.     If  any  man  shall  hear  of  this  day's  transaction, 
he  cannot  be  so  foolish  as  to  suppose  that  we  have  been 
confined  to  a  single  character  like  those  now  brought 
before  you." 

On  the  trial  of  Archibald  Hamilton  Rowen,  Esq.  for 
the  publication  of  a  seditious  libel,  Mr.  Curran  uttered  a 

most  magnificent  oration,  embracing  the  whole  variety  qf 


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J4«  CURRAN. 

topics  which  at  that  time  agitated  the  public  mitid.    We 
select  the  following  as  pecuHaf  for  their  force  and  beauty. 

On  the  liftkersal  emancipation  of  ail  minor  seets  from  the 
penal  and  prescriptive  statute  for  the  ascendency  of  the 
.   estabUshsd  church. 

**  1  ptit  it  to  joiir  oathsy  gefyUemed  of  the  jurj ;  do  you 
thiflk  that  a  blessibg  of  that  kind^  that  a  tictory  obtained 
by  justice  over  bigotry  and  oppression,  should  have  d 
stigma  cast  upon  it  by  an  ignominious  sentence  upon  men 
bold  and  honest  enough  to  pr6po«e  the  measure  i  to 
propose  the  red^ming  of  religion  from  the  abuses  of  the 
church?  The  reclaiming  of  three  millions  of  men  from 
bondage,  and  giving  liberty  to  all  who  bad  a  right  to 
demand  it  f  Giving,  I  say,  in  the  so  much  censured  words 
of  this  paper/  giving  universal  emancipation/  I  speak  in 
the  spirit  of  the  British  law,  which  makes  liberty  com* 
mensurate  with,  and  inseparable  from,  British  soil ;  which 
proclaims,  even  to  the  stranger  and  the  sojourner,  the 
moment  he  sets  his  foot  on  British  earth,  that  the  ground 
on  which  he  treads  is  holy  and  consecrated  to  the  genius 
of  universal  emancipation.  No  matter  in  what  language 
his  doom  may  have  been  pronounced  ; — ^no  matter  what 
complexion  iricompatible  with  freedom,  an  Indian  or  an 
African  sun  may  have  burnt  upon  him;— no  matter  in  what 
disastrous  battle  his  liberty  may  have  been  cloven  down;— 
no  matter  with  what  solemnities  he  may  have  been  devoted 
on  the  altar  of  slavery ;  the  first  moment  he  touches  the 
sacred  soil  of  Britain,  the  altar  and  the  god  sink  together 
in  the  dust.  His  soul  walks  abroad  in  her  own  majesty  ; 
his  body  swells  beyond  the  measure  of  his  chains  that 
burst  from  around  him ;  and  he  stands  redeemed,  rege- 
nerated, and  disenthralled  by  the  irresistible  genius  of 
universal  emancipation/' 

On  the  liberty  i^  the  press. 

*'  What  'then  remains  ?  The  liberty  of  the  press  only  ; 
the  sacred  palladium,  which  no  influence,  no  power,  no 


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CURRAN,  345 

miDister,  no  government,  which  nothing  but  the  depravity, 
or  folly,  orcormption  of  a  jnry,  can  ever  destroy.    And 
what  calamities  are  the  people  saved  from  by  having 
public  commanication  left  open  to  them  i    I  will  tell  you, 
gentlemen,  what  they  are  saved   from,  and   what   the 
government  is  saved  from ;  I  will  tell  you  also  to  what 
both  are  exposed  by  shutting  up  that  commnnication. 
In  one  case  sedition  speaks  aloud,  and  walks  abroad;  the 
demagogue  goes  forth;  the  public  eye  is  upon  him;  he 
frets  his  busy  hour  upon  the  stage;  but  soon  either  weari* 
ness,  or  bribe,  or  punishment,  or  disappointment,  bears 
him  down,  or  drives  him  off,  and  he  appears  no  more* 
In  the  other  ease,  how  does  the  work  of  sedition  go  for- 
ward i    Night  after  night  the  muffled  rebel  steals  forth  in 
the  dark,  and  casts  another  and  another  brand  upon  die 
pile,  to  which,  when  the  hour  of  fatal  maturity  shall 
arrive,  he  will  apply  the  flame.   If  you  doubt  of  the  horrid 
consequences  of  suppressing  the  effusion  even  of  indi- 
vidual discontent,  look  to  those  enslaved  countries  where 
the  protection  of  despotism  is  supposed  to  be  secured  by 
such  restraints.    Even  the  person  of  the  despot  there  is 
never  in  safety ;  neither  the  fears  of  the  despot,  nor  the 
machinations  of  the  slave,  have  any  slumber;  the  one 
anticipating  the  moment  of  peril,  the  other  watching  for 
the  opportunity  of  aggression.    The  fatal  crisis  is  equally 
a  surprise  upon  both;  the  decisive  instant  is  precipitated 
without  warning,  by  folly  on  the  one  side,  or  by  frenzy  on 
the  other;  and  there  is  no  notice  of  the  treason  till  the 
traitor  acts.    In  those  unfortunate  countries  (one  cannot 
read  it  without  horror)  there  are  officers  whose  province 
it  is  to  have  the  water,  which  is  to  be  drunk  by  their  rulers, 
sealed  up  in  bottles,  lest  some  wretched  miscreant  should 
throw  poison  into  the  draught. 

^  But,  gentlemen,  if  you  wish  for  a  nearer  and  more  in*, 
teresting  example,  you  have  it  in  the  history  of  your  own 
revolution.  You  have  it  at  the  memorable  period  when 
the  monarch  found  a  servile  acquiescence  in  the  ministers 
of  his  folly ;  when  tlie  liberty  of  ttie  press  was  trodden 


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344  CURRAN. 

under  foot;  when  vtrtal  sheriffs  rdumed  packed  jums  to 
carry  into  effect  thoee  fatal  conspiracies  of  the  few  against 
the  many  \  when  the  devoted  benches  of  public  justice 
were  filled^  by  some  of  those  foundlings  of  fortune,  who» 
overwhelmed  in  the  torrent  of  corruption  at  an  early 
period,  lay  $Li  the  bottom  like  drowned  bodies,  while  sound- 
qess  or  sanity  remained  in  them ;  but,  at  length  becoming 
buoyant  by  putrefaction,  they  rose  as  liiey  rotted,  and 
floated  to  the  surface  of  the  polluted  stream,  where  they 
were  drifted  along,  the  objects  of  terror^  pestilence,  and 
abomination.  In  that  awful  moBkent  of  a  nation's  travail ; 
9f  the  last  gasp  of  tyranny,  and  the  first  breath  of  free- 
dom, how  pregnant  is  the  example.  The  press  extin- 
guishedj  the  people  enslaved,  and  the  prince  undone.  As 
the  advocate  of  society,  therefore  of  peace,  of  domestic 
liberty,  and  of  the  lasting  union  of  both  countries,  I  con- 
jure you  to  guard  the  liberty  of  the  press,  that  great  cen- 
tinel  of  the  state,  that  grand  detector  of  public  imposture. 
Guard  it,  because,  when  it  sinks,  there  sink  with  it,  in  one 
common  grave,  the  liberty  of  the  subject,  and  the  security 
of  the  crown. 

**  Gentlemen,  I  rejoice,  for  the  sake  of  the  court,  the  jury, 
and  the  public  repose,  that  this  question -has  not  been 
brought  forward  till  now*  In  Great  Britain  analogous 
circumstances  have  taken  place.  At  the  commencement 
of  that  unfortunate  war,  which  has  deluged  Europe  with 
blopd,  the  spirit  of  the  English  people  was  tremulously 
alive  to  the  terror  of  French  principles.  At  that  moment 
of  general  paroxysm,  to  accuse  was  to  convict;  the  danger 
seemed  larger  to  the  public  eye  from  the  misty  medium 
through  which  it  was  surveyed.  We  measure  inaccessible 
heights  from  the  shadows  which  they  project,  where  the 
lowness  and  the  distance  of  the  light  form,  the  length  of 
the  shade.  There  is  a  sort  of  aspiring  and  adventitious 
credulity  which  disdains  assenting  to  obvious  truths,  and 
delights  in  catching  at  the  improbability  of  circumstances 
as  its  best  ground  of  faith.  To  what  other  cause,  gentle- 
men, can  you  ascribe,  that,  in  the  wise,  the  reflecting,  the 


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CURRAN.  345 

philosophic  nation  of  Great  Britain,  a  printer  has  been 
found  guilty  of  a  libel  for  publishing  those  resolutions  to 
which  the  present  minister  of  that  kingdom  (Mr.  Pitt) 
had  actually  subscribed  his  name?  To  what  other  cause 
can  you  ascribe^  what  in  my  mind  is  still  moreastoni^shing, 
that  in  such  a  country  as  Scotland — a  nation  cast  in  the 
happy  medium  between. the  spiritless  acquiescence  of  sub^ 
missive  poverty,  and  the  sturdy  credulity  of  pampered 
wealth:  cool  and  ardent,  adventurous  and  persevering, 
winging  her  eagle  flight  against  the  blaze  of  every  science 
with  an  eye  that  never  winks,  and  a  wing  tbbt  never  tires ; 
crowned  as  she  is  with  the  spoils  of  every  art,  and  decked 
with  the  wreath  of  every  muse,  from  the  deep  and  scruti- 
nizing researches  of  her  Hume,  to  the  sweet  and  simple, 
but  not  less  sublime  and  pathetic  morality  of  her  Bums; 
how  from  the  bosom  of  a  country  like  that,  genius  and 
character,  and  talents,  should  be  banished  to  a  distant, 
barbarous  soil ;  condemned  to  pine  under  the  horrid  com- 
munion of  vulgar  vice  and  base-born  profligacy  for  twice 
the  period  that  ordinary  calculation  gives  to  the  conti- 
nuance of  human  life  ?  (alluding  to  the  transportation  of 
Messrs.  Muir,  Palmer^  &c.  to  Botany  Bay. 

The  orator  then  proceeded  to  depict  a  splendid  portrait 
of  the  amiable  character  of  his  client,  and  concluded  his 
peroration  by  this  forcible  appeal  :^- 

**  I  will  not  relinquish  the  confidence  that  this  day  will 
be  the  period  of  his  sufferings ;  and,  however  mercilessly 
he  has  been  hitherto  pursued,  that  your  verdict,  gentle- 
men, will  send  him  home  to  the  arms  of , his  family,  and 
the  wishes  of  his  country :  but  if,  which  heaven  forbid ! 
it  hath  still  been  unfortunately  determined,  that  becapiae 
he  has  not  bent  to  power  and  authority,  because  he  would 
not  bow  down  before  the  golden  calf  and  worship  it,  he  is 
to  be  bound  and  cast  into  the  furnace;  I  do  trust  in  God, 
that  there  is  a  redeeming  spirit  in  the  constitution,  which 
will  be  seen  to  walk  with  the  sufferer  through  the  flame, 
and  to  preserve  him  unhurt  through  the  conflagration.'' 

Mr.  Curran's  eloquence  failed  with  the  jury,  for  they 


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$46  CURRAN. 

ooQvicted  his  client ;  bnt  bis  last  hope  was  prophetic;  for 
bi)B  client  was  fined  500/.  and  bound  and  cast  into  the  fur- 
nace of  Newgate,  for  two  years ;  and  the  redeeming  spirit 
of  an  amiable  and  horoic  wife,  **  walked  with  the  saffeKt 
through  the  flames,"  and  by  a  notable  stratagem  extri- 
cated him  from  his  prison,  and  saved  him  from  the  moral 
certainty  of  concerted  destruction,  had  her  plan  been  de- 
ferred or  defeated. 

Mr.  Corran's  next  display  was  in  the  defence  of  a  Mr. 
Ftnnerty,  the  publisher  of  a  newspaper,  entitled  the  Press: 
the  whole  of  whieh  speech  was  an  uninterrupted  blaze  of 
eloquenoe.  Canvassing  the  motives  of  government  for 
this  and  similar  prosecutions,  and  comparing  transactions 
gf  this  period  to  earlier  occurrences  in  the  reign  of 
Jambs  IIv — 

^^  I  see  you,  gentlemeii,  turn  your  eyes  to  those  pages 
of  governmental  abandonment,  of  popular  degradation, 
of  expiring  liberty,  and  of  merciless  and  sanguinary  per- 
secutions ;  to  that  miserable  period  in  which  the  fallen  and 
abject  state  of  man  might  have  been  almost  an  argument 
in  the  mouth  of  the  atheist,  and  the  blasphemer  against 
the  existence  of  an  all-just  and  an  all-wise  First  Cause; 
if  the  glorious  era  of  the  revolution  that  followed  it,  had 
not  refuted  the  impious  inference  by  shewing,  that  if  man 
descends,  it  is  not  in  his  own  proper  motion :  that  it  is  with 
labour  and  with  pain;  and  that  he  can  continue  to  sink 
only  until  by  the  force  and  pressure  of  the  descent  the 
spring  of  his  immortal  faculties  acquires  that  recuperative 
enfergy  and  effort  that  hurries  him  as  many  miles  aioflt,—* 
he  sinks  but  to  rise  again.  It  is  at  that  period  that  the 
Mue  seeks  for  shelter  in  the  destruction  of  the  press ;  it  is 
at  a  period  hke  that  the  tyrant  prepares  for  an  attack 
upon  the  people,  by  destroying  the  liberty  of  the  press  | 
by  taking  away  that  shield  #f  msiom  and  virtue,  behind 
which  the  people  are  invulnerable;  but  in  whose  pure  and 
polished  convex,  ere  the  lifted  blow  has  fallen,  he  beholds 
his  own  image,  and  is  turned  into  stone.  It  is  at  these 
periods  that  the  honest  man  dares  not  speak,  because  truth 


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CURRAN.  347 

is  too  dreadfal  to  be  told.  It  is  then  hdmadty  has  no 
ears,  because  humanity  has  no  tongue.  It  is  then  the 
proud  man  scorns  to  speak ;  but,  like  a  physician  baffled 
by  the  wayward  excesses  of  a  dying  patient,  retires  indigo 
nantly  from  the  bed  of  an  Unhappy  wretch,  whose  ear  is 
too  fastidious  to  bear  the  sound  of  wholesome  advice ; 
whose  palate  is  too  debauched  to  bear  the  salutary  bitter 
of  the  medicine  that  might  redeem  him ;  and  therefore 
leaves  him  to  the  felonious  piety  of  the  slaves  that  talk  to 
him  of  life,  and  strip  him  before  he  is  cold«  I  do  not 
wish,  gentlemen,  to  exhaust  too  much  of  your  attention 
by  following  this  subject  through  the  last  century  with 
much  minuteness.  But  the  foots  are  too  recent  in  your 
mind  not  to  shew  you  that  the  liberty  of  the  press,  and 
the  liberty  of  the  people,  sink  or  rise  together,  and  that 
the  liberty  of  speaking,  and  the  liberty  of  acting,  have 
shared  exactly  the  same  fate/' 

Appealing  to  history  on  the  subject  of  the  libel,  which 
was  the  capital  punishment  of  a  Mr.  Orr,  upon  the  verdict 
of  a  drunken  jury,  and  the  speech  of  the  attorney-general  >^ 

**  Gentlemen,  I  am  not  unconscious  that,  the  learned 
counsel  for  the  crown  seemed  to  address  you  with  a 
confidence  of  a  very  different  kind  from  mine.  He  seemed 
to  expect  a  kind  of  respectful  sympathy  from  you  with 
the  feelings  of  the  castle  and  ihe  griefs  of  chided  autho* 
rity.  Perhaps,  gentlemen,  he  may  know  you  better  than 
I  do : '  if  he  does,  he  has  spoken  to  yon  as  he  ought ; 
he  has  been  right  in  telling  you,  that  if  the  reprobation  of 
this  is  weak,  it  is  because  his  genius  could  not  make 
it  stronger;  he  has  been  right  in  telling  you,  that  his 
language  has  not  been  braided  and  festooned  as  elegantly 
as  it  might;  that  he  has  not  pinched  the  miserable  plaits 
of  his  phraseology,  nor  placed  his  patches  and  feathers 
with  that  correctness  of  millinery  which  became  so  exalted 
a  person.  If  yon  agree  with  him,  gentlemen;  if  yon 
think  the  man  who  ventures,  at  the  hazard  of  his  own  life, 
to  rescue  from  the  deep,  the  drowned  honour  of  his  coun- 
try, must  not  presume  upon  the  guilty  familiarity  of 


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3A8  CURRAN. 

plucking  it  by  the  locks, — I  have  no  more  to  say.  Do  a 
courteous  things  upright  and  honest  jurors!  find  a  civil 
and  obliging  verdict  against  this  printer;  and  when  you 
have  done  so,  march  through  the  ranks  of  your  fellow- 
citizens  to  your  own  homes,  and  bear  their  looks  as  they 
pass  along.  Retire  to  the  bosom  of  your  families;  and 
when  you  are  presiding  over  the  morality  of  the  parental 
board,  tell  your  children,  who  are  to  be  the  future  men  of 
Ireland,  the  history  of  this  day.  Form  their  young  minds 
by  your  precepts,  and  confirm  those  precepts  by  your  own 
example.  Teach  them  how  discreetly  allegiance  may  be 
perjured  on  the  table,  or  loyalty  be  forsworn  in  the  jury 
box:  and  when  you  have  done  so,  tell  them  the  story 
of  Orr;  tell  them  of  his  captivity,  of  his  children,  of  his 
crime,  of  his  hopes,  of  his  disappointments,  of  his  courage, 
and  of  his  death.  And,  when  you  find  your  little  hearers 
hanging  on  your  lips;  when  you  see  their  eyes  overflow 
with  sympathy  and  sorrow,  and  their  young  hearts  bursting 
with  the  pangs  of  anticipated  orphanism,  tell  them  that 
you  had  the  boldness  and  the  justice  to  stigmatise  the  mon- 
ster who  had  dared  to  publish  the  transaction.** 

On  the  trial  of  Patrick  Finney  upon  a  charge  of  high 
treason,  founded  on  the  testimony  of  a  common  informer, 
named  James  O'Brien,  who  was  afterwards  executed  for 
a  mpst  atrocious  murder;  Mr.  Curran  thus  stigmatised  the 
informer  and  his  evidence,  in  his  appeal  to  the  jury : — 

''Gentlemen,  have  you  any  doubt  that  it  is  the  object  of 
O'Brien  to  take  down  the  prisoner  for  the  reward  that 
follows?  Have  yoo  not  seen  with  what  more  than  instinc- 
tive keenness  this  blood-houpd  has  pursued  his  victim? 
How  he  has  kept  him  in  view  from  place  to  place,  until  he 
hunts  him  through  the  arenas  of  the  court,  to  where  the 
unhappy  man  now  stands,  hopeless  of  all  succour,  but  that 
which  your  verdict  shall  afford.  I  have  heard  of  assassi' 
nation  by  sword,  by  pistol,  by  dagger: — but  here  is  a 
wretch  who  would  dip  the  Evangelists  in  blood :  if  he 
thinks  he  has  not  sworn  his  victim  to  death,  he  is  ready 
to  swear  on,  without  mercy  and  without  end:  but,  oh- 


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CURRAN.  349 

do  not,  I  coDJare  you,  suffer  him  to  take  an  oath,  the  lips 
of  the  murderer  should  not  pollute  the  purity  of  the 
Gospel.-  If  he  TmLl  swear,  let  it  be  on  his  Arm/e,  the  pro- 
per and  bloody  symbol  of  his  profession,  and  his  liveli- 
hood/' 

The  other  state  trials  on  which  Mn  Curran  was  retained 
for  the  accused,  were  those  of  Mr.  Oliver  Bond  for  high 
treason,  and  Owen  Kirwan  for  the  lilce  crime;  but  both 
were  convicted.  The  other  more  celebrated  specimens  of 
his  forensic  abilities  were  displayed  in  the  case  of  the  Rev. 
Charles  Massey  against  the  Marquis  of  Headfort,  for  crim. 
con.  with  the  plaintiff's  wife;  in  the  case  of  the  King, 
against  the  Honourable  Mr.  Justice  Johnson,  where 
Mr.  Curran,  up6n  a  habeas  corpus,  moved  for  the  discharge 
of  the  learned  judge  from  his  illegal  imprisonment,  under 
a  warrant  issued  for  his  apprehension,  by  Lord  Ellen- 
borough,  chief  justice  of  the  king's  bench  in  England,  in 
order  to  hold  the  learned  judge  to  trial  at  Westminster,  for 
a  libel ;  and  his  splendid  oration  at  the  bar  of  the  Irish 
house  of  commons,  in  behalf  of  Lady  Pamela  Fitzgerald 
and  her  children  against  the  bill  for  the  attainder  of  the 
late  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald.  The  two  former  are  tole- 
rably well  reported  in  the  volume  before-mentioned,  but 
the  last  is  merely  detached  in  substance,  and,  though 
it  contains  the  materials  of  a  most  able  argument  on  the 
case,  it  is  but  the  dead  body  of  an  oration,  which  breathed 
in  the  delivery  all  the  fire,  animation,  and  pathos  so  pecu- 
liarly characteristic  of  Mr.  Curran's  eloquence. 

Having  thus  slightly  sketched  the  portrait  of  this  cele- 
brated orator  in  his  parliamentary  and  forensic  characters, 
it  may  be  desirable  now  to  consider  him  in  private  life. 
Naturally  enough  it  might  be  supposed  that  a  barrister  of 
such  extensive  practice  at  the  bar,  from  the  first  rise  of  his 
professional  celebrity,  to  the  day  he  retired  from  the  pro- 
fession ;  and  a  senator  who  bore  so  distinguished  a  part  on 
every  important  discussion  for  a  long  series  of  years,  had 
but  little  time  for  the  pleasures  of  social  intercourse  and 
the  festive  board:   and  yet  no  gentleman  ^appeared  to 


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$50  CURRAN. 

devote  more  time  to  both,  oor  was  ever  mw  more  ^mioentljr 
quali6ed  to  render  convivial  society  dellghtfuK  The  same 
inexhaustible  fund  of  genius,  wit,  and  humour,  which 
adorned  and  animated  his  forensic  and  senatorial  eloquence, 
contributed  in  a  more  playful  application,  to  enliven  the 
society  wherein  he  moved.  His  mind  early  stored  with  all 
the  riches  of  classic  and  scientific  karning,  and  afterwards 
improved  by  his  intercourse  with  the  productions  of 
modern  taste  and  literature^  was  an  inexhaustible  treasury 
of  all  that  was  splendid  in  each.  His  perception  was 
intuitive,  his  memory  boundless,  and  his  fancy,  ever  on 
eagle  wing,  traversed  the  remotest  regions  of  intellectual 
space: — now  hovering  aloft  and  sporting  in  the  tempest; — 
anon  descending  to  glide  over  the  sun-gilt  vales  of  taste, 
wit^  and  pleasantry.  A  complete  master  in  all  the  powers 
of  rhetoric,  he  could  touch  at  pleasure,  and  with  exquisite 
skill,  every  cbord  of  the  soul  like  the  strings  of  a  harp, 
and  elicit  every  tone  to  his  purpose.  He  was  tragedy,  and 
comedy,  and  farce,  by  turns ;  and  the  same  company  were 
alternately  in  tears  from  his  pathos,  electrified  by  his  wit, 
or  convulsed  with  laughter  at  his  inimitable  humour. 

His  villa,  which  he  called  the  Priory,  situate  about 
four  miles  from  the  metropolis,  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain, 
and  commanding  a  view  of  the  bay,  and  a  picturesque 
country,  was  a  little  temple  devoted  to  hospitality*  His 
style  of  living  was  simple  ;  his  table  plain,  but  plentiful ; 
his  wines  the  best  and  most  abundant;  nothing  appeared 
starched  by  affectation,  or  frozen  by  ceremony.  His 
friends  were  always  welcome  at  five.  The  sunshine  of 
good-humour  gilded  every  thing  about  him,  and  every  man 
who  brought  mind  to  the  banquet,  was  sure  to  enjoy  *'  the 
feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of  soul.''  It  may  seem  a 
paradox,  but  it  is  not  the  less  true,  that  many  a  guest  has 
risen  hungry  from  his  dinner-table  when  it  has  been  stored 
with  variety  and  abundance;  for  if  the  host  was  once  in  a 
facetious  fii;,  the  flashes  of  his  pleasantry  excited  such 
incessant  peals  of  laughter,  that  the  delighted  guest  forgot 
bis  appetite,  and  feasted  only  jli^.  mind*    But,  although 


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CURRAN.  861 

some  of  bis  biograpba-s^  wbo  profess  to  have  been  his 
freqaeDt  guests  and  companioDS,  bear  testimooy  to  these 
traits  of  his  character,  fevir  men  have  been  less  fbrtaoate 
than  Curran  in  the  historians  of  his  joculariana;  for  the 
instances  they  have  given  to  their  readers  rareljr  pass 
mediocrit}',  and  often  descend  to  miserable  puns;  and 
indeed,  some  of  them  have  enriched  their  collections  from 
the  counterfeit  coinage  of  common  rumour;  and  laid 
at  the  door  of  Mr.  Curran  many  illegitimate  bantlings,  of 
which  he  has  been  most  innocently  dubbed  the  father. 
But  such  has  been,  time  immemorial^  the  fateof  celebxated 
wits  in  every  age ;  and  many  a  joke-merchant  and  dealer 
in  table-talk,  has  ventured  to  foist  off  his  own  coinage,  or 
his  gleanings  from  the  jest  books,  as  the  genuine  offspring 
of  Mr.  Curran's  fancy ;  well  knowing  that  his  name 
stamped  even  upon  homely  witticisms,  makes  them  current 
for  a  dinner  and  a  bottle  at  every  hospitable  table  in 
Ireland,  (at  least)  where  a  plausible  fellow  can  make  the 
tour  of  the  country  with  little  of  any  other  coin  in  his 
possession.  But  we  have  no  national  bank  far  wit,  and 
hence  these  forgeries  increase  and  pass  with  impunity. 

Though  it  may  ill  suit  with  the  gravity  of  the  biogra* 
pber,  we  have  selected  a  few  of  the  most  feasible  extant, 
amongst  which  some  may  be  genuine,  but  we  by  no  means 
▼ouch  for  the  whole.  It  is  but  fair,  however,  to  allow 
that  the  wii  which  sometimes  glitters  in  conversation, 
is  often  difficult  to  extract  per  se.  Much  of  its  brilliancy 
frequently  depends  on  the  setting*  Pick  it  from  that,  and 
it  loses  half  its  waler,  or  becomes  dim  or  opaque^  With* 
out  all  the  keepings  of  time^  place,  circunutanoe,  and  occa* 
$i(m,  it  is  like  one  beautiful  object  detached  from  a  fine 
picture,  which  took  its  chief  force  and  effect  from  its  com* 
bination^  as  an  ingredient  of  the  materia  condca.  Wit  is  to 
conversation  as  mUmeg  to  a  cordial  draught;  a  little  gives 
a  fine  taste,  but  too  much  will  nauseate;  or,  it  is  like  the 
electric  flash,  which  dazzles  and  astounds  us  in  the  dark, 
but  would  be  invisible  at  noon-light.  **  Quickness  in  the 
conception,  and  ease  in  the  delivery,"  are  its  chief  qualitiesi 


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352  CURRAN, 

according  to  Pope.  And  '^  brmty,^  says  another  eminent 
aatbor,  ''  is  the  very  soul  of  it/'  It  is  a  fine,  essential 
spirit  of  the  mind  which  is  apt  to  evaporate  in  the  trans- 
fusion of  detail ;  and  therefore  nothing  is  more  dull  than 
your  ^^deviUsk  good  story  of  a  deviHsh  good  thing,  said  by 
a  celebrated  wit/'  and  retailed  by  a  smoky-headed  fellow, 
who  smothers  it  in  the  bungling  stupidity  of  his  own 
narration. 

We  trust  our  readers  will  not  deem  the  above  a  digres- 
sion ;  and  we  now  commence,  sans  dremoniej  to  record  a 
few  of  the  witticisms  of  Mr.  Curran. 

Shortly  after  the  establishment  of  our  colony  at  Botany 
Bay,  when  the  population  was  fast  increasing,  Mr.  Curran 
in  one  of  his  speeches  upon  a  criminal  trial  observed, — 
"That  should  the  colony  thrive,  and  become  a  regular 
civil  government,  what  a  pleasant  thing  it  would  be 
to  have  the  laws  administered  by  judges  reprieved  at  the 
gallows;  by  justices  ^ho  had  picked  pockets;  by  coun- 
sellors who  had  pleaded  at  the  bar  for  their  lives;  by 
lawyers  who  had  set  the  law  at  defiance ;  to  see  house- 
breakers appointed  to  protect  the  public  property ;  high- 
waymen entrusted  with  the  public  money;  rioters  invested 
with  commissions  of  the  peace,  and  shoplifters  to  regulate 
the  markets.  Such,  however,  said  he,  were  the  original 
people  of  Rome ;  and  such  the  foundation  of  the  states  of 
America." 

He  was  addressing  a  jury  on  one  of  the  state  trials 
in  1803  with  his  usual  animation.  The  judge,  whose  poli- 
tical bias,  if  any  a  judge  can  have,  was  certainly  supposed  > 
not  to  be  favourable  to  the  prisoner,  shook  his  head  in 
doubt  or  denial  of  one  of  the  advocate's  arguments: 
"  I  see,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Curran,  '*  I  see  the  motion 
of  hif  lordship's  head ;  common  observers  might  imagine 
that  implied  a  difiference  of  opinion,  but  they  would  be 
mistaken — it  is  merely  accidental — ^believe  me,  gentlemen, 
if  you  remain  here  many  days,  you  will  yourselves  per- 
ceive, that  whenhis  lordship  shakes  his  headthere^s  nothing 


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CURRAN.  353 

A  brother  barrister  of  his,  remarkable  for  having  a  per- 
petuity in  dirty  shirts,  was  drily  asked  in  the  presence 
of  Mr.  Curran,  *'  Pray,  my  dear  Bob,  how  do  you  get  so 
many  dirty  shirts?"  Mr.  Curran  replied  for  him,  *'  I  can 
easily  account  for  it;  his  laundress  lives  at  Holyhead,  and 
there  are  nine  packets  always  due."  This  gentleman  wishing 
to  travel  to  Cork  during  the  rebellion,  but  apprehensive  he 
should  be  known  by  the  rebels,  was  advised  to  proceed 
incog,  which  he  said  was  easily  effected,  for  by  disguising 
himself  in  a  clean  shirt,  no  one  would  know  him. 

Of  the  same  gentleman,  who  was  a  sordid  miser,  it  was 
told  Mr.  Curran,  that  he  had  set  put  from  Cork  to  Dublin, 
with  one  shirt,  and  one  guinea.  '^  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Curran, 
*^  and  I  will  answer  for  it,  he  will  change  neither  of  them 
till  he  returns." 

Mr.  Curran,  travelling  on  the  Munster  circuit  with  his 
brother  barristers,  the  judges,  as  usual,  laying  aside  the 
formalities  of  their  high  office,  dine  with  the  bar  at  their 
mess,  and  participate  in  all  the  wit  and  conviviality  of  the 
social  board.  On  one  of  those  occasions,  after  the  rebellion 
of  1798,  Lord  Norbury,  of  executive  eminence,  sat  near 
Mr.  Curran,  who  asked  leave  to  help  his  lordship  to  some 
pickled  neat's  tongue.  The  judge  politely  declined  it, 
^yingy  be  did  not  like  pickled  tongue  ^  but,  if  it  had  been 
hmg,  he  would  tty  it.  "  My  lord,"  replied  Mr.C.  '*  if  your 
lordship  will  only  try  it,  'twill  be  hung  to  a  certainty." 

At  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  an  aspirated  dispute  arose 
between  one  of  the  fellows,  Doctor  Magee,  who  was  an 
eloquent  preacher,  and  a  Mr.  Swift,  who  had  tw'o  sons 
students  at  that  university;  and  the  contest  broke  out 
into  a  war  of  pamphlets,  in  which  the  disputants  libelled 
each  other;  and  mutual  prosecutions  in  the  king's  bench 
followed.  Mr.  Swift  stood  the  first  trial,  and  was  fined 
and  imprisoned;  and  then  proceeded  against  the  doctor. 
Mn  Curran,  who  was  his  counsel,  in  reprobating  the  con- 
duct of  a  clergyman  for  writing  a  malicious  and  scan- 
dalous libel  against  his  client,  expressed  an  earnest  wish 
that  the  reverend  gentleman,  who  in  his  pulpit  was  the 

VOL.  1.  A  A 


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354  CURRAN. 

terjr  mirror  of  christian  charity,  ceold  find  time  on  some 
\  wet  Sunday  to  go  to  his  college  chapel  and  hear  himself 
preach,  as  the  best  antidote  against  the  libelloas  asperity 
of  his  pen. 

When  the  new  mint  was  erected  on  Tower  Hill,  at  aa 
enormous  expense,  the  high  price  of  the  precions  metals, 
and  the  existing  prospects  of  the  country,  rendered  the  office 
of  themoneyers  for  a  considerable  time  perfectly  sinecure. 
No  gold  or  silver  was  brought  to  the  coining  press;  tmllmg 
was  confined  to  the  pugilists  and  corn-grinders,  and  paper 
usurped  the  post  of  cash.  At  this  period  the  honourable 
Mr.  Wellesley  Pole  was  appointed  master  of  the  mint* 
Upon  these  circumstances,  Curran,  in  a  convivial  circle, 
observed,— ^'^  I  am  glad  to  find  an  irishman  for  once  at  the 
head  of  a  money-making  department;  it  may  afford  an 
additional  scence  for  the  Beggar's  Opera.  For  Mat  o'the 
mint,  we  shall  have  Pat  o'the  mint;  and,  as  the  new  esta^ 
blishment  is  likely  to  coin  nothing  but  rags,  there  can  be 
no  want  of  bulUon  during  the  reign  o/beggarj/" 

It  was  not  unfrequent  for  Mr.  Curran,  in  some  of  his 
witty  rencounters,  to  tiave  his  own  repartees  seat  back  upon 
him  at  second-hand,  as  originals,  by  a  puny  antagonist. 
On  one  of  those  occasions,  an  arrow  of  this  sort,  notori* 
ously  his  own,  came  whizzing  upon  him,  and  being  d^opos 
to  the  occasion,  excited  a  wince;  but,  bowing  to  his  aa« 
sailant,  he  replied, — *^  I  have  no  objection  to  a  scratch 
from  any  weapon  oiyour  own;  but  I  deprecate  the  fate  of 
that  unlucky  eagle  who  was  pierced  by  a  shaft  plumed 
from  his  own  wing.*' 

During  the  late  administration  of  Mr.  Fox  in  England, 
Mr.  George  Ponsonby  was  appointed  to  the  Irish  chancery 
bench,  and  Mr.Curran,  as  has  been  said,  through  the  friendly 
offices  of  that  gentleman,  was  appointed  to  the  mastership 
of  the  rolls.  But  this  was  a  situation  by  no  means  con* 
genial  to  bis  taste  or  his  habits.  His  eloquence,  the 
ornament  of  his  ulents  and  the  source  of  his  elevation, 
was  also  the  delight  of  his  soul,  and  upon  this  he 
considered  his  new  office  as  a  complete  extinguisher.     It 


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CDRRAN.  S55 

was  a  field  perfectly  new  to  him,  and  though  he  discharged 
it^  doties  with  efficiency  and  bononri  and  gave  him  what 
was  deemed  the  otinm  eum  digmtate,  the  office  of  attorney- 
general,  with  its  chnnoes  of  elevation  to  the  king's  benchi 
would  have  mncfa  more  gratified  his  taste  and  his  ambition. 
Id  the  arrangements  for  Mr.  Currau's  appointment  to  this 
office,  Sir  Michael  Smith,  his  predecessor,  retired  upon 
the  usual  pension;  but  he  stipulated  also  for  the  cont 
tinuaoce  of  his  chief  officer,  Mr.  Ridgeway,  in  his  post, 
oo  a  provision  for  him  of  500/.  a  year  from  the  emoluments 
of  his  successor*  Mr.  Ponsonby,  to  facilitate  the  success 
of  bis  friend,  had  promised  this  matter  should  be  adjusted, 
met  Mr.  Curran,  who  had  designed  his  eldest  son  for  the 
place,  which  was  worth  1000/.  a^year,  considered  himself 
as  no  party  to  the  arrangement  for  Mr.  Ridgeway,  and 
refused  to  comply.  This  led  to  an  unfortunate  misunder* 
standing,  which  continued  for  life,  between  him  and 
Mr.  Ponsonby.  The  latter  gentleman  felt  himself  bound  . 
to  make  good  the  stipulation  to  Mr.  Ridgeway,  which  he 
did  most  honourably  from  his  own  purse.  Mr.  Curran, 
junior,  did  the  duties  by  proxy  until  the  resignation  of  his 
father,  which  took  place  in  a  very  few  years  afterwards. 
The  father  vindicated  his  own  conduct  in  a  letter  circulated 
io  mimuscript  for  some  time  kmoagst  his  friends,  which 
ultimately  found  its  way  into  print,  and  which  by  no 
means  tended  to  heal  the  breach.  This  unfortunate  chasm 
in  his  political  friendship,  added  to  a  domestic  occurrence 
of  a  much  earlier  date,  greatly  embittered  the  happiness  of 
his  latter  years.  This  was  the  infidelity  of  a  wife,  whom 
be  had  married  for  love,  by  whom  he  bad,  at  the  time^ 
several  grown  children,  who  had  shared  with  him  his  ele- 
vation and  prosperity,  and  became  a  victim  to  the  seduc- 
tive artifices  of  a  clergyman,  who  had  for  years  shared  his 
intimate  friendship,  and  was  a  constant  participator  in  his 
hospitalities.  He  succeeded  in  an  action  for  damages 
against  the  man,  but  never  exacted  the  penalty;  and  be 
separated  from  bis  unfortunate  wife,  but  without  suing  for 
a  divorce.   His  domestic  happiness,  however,  was  gone  for 


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S56  CURRAN. 

ever.  This,  even  for  years,  onfttted  him  for  bis  profe»« 
siooal  pursuits;  and  though  he  struggled  in  the  bustle 
of  forensic  exertions,  to  banish  from  recollection  the  cause 
of  his  unhappiness;  and,  on  his  retreat  from  the  rolls 
bench,  sought,  by  his  absence  from  the  scenes  of  his  fame 
and  the  country  of  his  heart,  to  dissipate  his  chagrin  by 
varied  society,  and  travels  in  England  and  France;  still 
the  wound  was  beyond  remedy,  and  rankled  in  his  feelings 
to  the  hour  of  his  dissolution,  which  took  place  at  his 
lodgings.  No,  7,  Amelia  Place,  Brompton,  on  the  ISth  of 
October,  1817,  in  the  sixty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  For  a 
short  time  before  bis  death,  his  social  intercourse  was 
confined  to  a  very  few  intimate  acquaintance.  It  was 
imagined  that  his  will,  which  was  in  Ireland,  might  con- 
tain some  directions  as  to  his  interment,  and  his  funeral  was 
deferred  until  that  was  examined.  It  was,  however,  silent 
upon  the  subject,  and  his  remains  were  conveyed,  with  all 
possible  privacy,  to  their  last  depository,  in  Paddington 
church-yard,  attended  by  a  few  of  his  most  intimate  friends. 

We  intended  here  to  have  closed  the  memoir  of  Curran, 
but  the  following  eloquent  character,  from  the  pen  of  the 
Rev.  George  Croly,  elicited  our  admiration  so  strongly, 
that  we  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  inserting  it : — 

<^  From  the  period  at  which  Mr.  Curran  emerged  from 
the  first  struggles  of  an  unfriended  man,  labouring  up 
a  jealous  profession,  his  history  makes  a  part  of  the  annals 
of  his  country;  once  upon  the  surface,  his  light  was 
always  before  the  eye,  it  never  sank,  and  was  never  out- 
shone. With  great  powers  to  lift  himself  beyond  the 
reach  of  that  tumultuous  and  stormy  agitation  that  must 
involve  the  movers  of  the  public  mind  in  a  country  such 
as  Ireland  then  was,  he  loved  to  cling  to  the  heavings  of 
the  wave;  he  at  least  never  rose  to  that  tranquil  elevation 
to  which  his  early  cotemporaries  had,  one  by  one,  climbed; 
and  never  left  the  struggle  till  the  storm  had  gone  down, 
it  is  to  be  hoped,  for  ever.  This  was  his  destiny,  but  it 
was  his  choice,  and  he  was  not  without  the  reward  which, 
to  an  ambitious  mindj  conscious  of  eminent  powers,  might 


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CURRAN.  357 

be  more  than  equivalent  to  the  reluctant  patronage  of  the 
throne.  To  his  habits,  legal  distinctions  would  have  beein 
only  a  bounty  upon  his  silence.  His  limbs  would  have 
been  fettered  by  the  ermine.  But  he  had  the  compensation 
of  boundless  popular  honour,  much  respect  from  the 
higher  ranks  of  party,  much  admiration  and  much  fear 
from  the  lower  partisans.  In  parliament  he  was  the 
assailant  most  dreaded ;  in  the  law  courts  he  was  the  advo- 
cate whose  assistance  was  deemed  the  most  essential :  in 
both  he  was  an  object  of  all  the  more  powerful  passions 
of  man,  but  rivalry.    He  stood  alone,  and  shone  alone. 

'^  The  connections  of  his  early  life,  and  still  more  the 
original  turn  of  his  feelings,  threw  him  into  the  ranks  of 
opposition ;  in  England,  a  doubtful  cause,  and  long  sepa- 
rable from  patriotism ;  in  Ireland,  at  that  day,  the  natural 
direction  of  every  man  of  vigorous  feeling  and  heedless 
genius.  Ireland  had  been,  from  causes  many  anci  deep, 
an  unhappy  country.  For  centuries  utterly  torpid,  or  only 
giving  signs  of  life  from  the  fresh  gush  of  blood  from  her 
old  wounds,  the  influence  of  England's  well-intentioned 
policy  was  more  than  lost  upon  her;  it  was  too  limited  to 
work  a  thorough  reformation,  but  too  strong  not  to  irritate ; 
it  was  the  application  of  the  a(^tual  cautery  to  a  limb, 
while  the  whole  body  was  a  gangrene.  But  a  man  who 
loved  the  influence  of  this  noblest  of  countries,  might  hate 
the  government  of  Ireland.  It  was  a  rude  oligarchy. 
The  whole  influence  of  the  state  was  in  the  hands  of  a  few 
great  families.  1'hose  were  the  true  farmers-general  of 
Ireland;  and  the  English  minister,  pressed  by  the  difii- 
culties  of  an  empire  then  beginning  to  expand  over  half 
the  world,  was  forced  to  take  their  contract  on  their  own 
terms.  The  viceroy  was  their  viceroy;  only  the  first 
figure  in  diat  deplorable  triumph  which  led  all  the  hopes 
and  virtues  of  the  country  in  chains  behind  the  chariot 
wheels  of  a  haughty  faction.  It  was  against  this  usurpa- 
tion that  the  Irish  minority  rose  up  in  naked  but  resolute 
patriotism.  The  struggle  was  not  long;  they  hewed  their 
way  through  the  hereditary  armour  of  their  adversaries, 


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S5S  CURRAN. 

with  the  vigour  of  men  leagued  in  socb  a  causes  and 
advanced  thdr  standard  till  they  saw  it  waving  without 
one  to  answer  it.  In  this  praise  of  an  admirable  time 
there  is  no  giddy  praise  of  popular  violence.  The  revo- 
lution of  1780  was  to  Ireland  what  the  revolution  of  a 
century  before  had  been  to  the  paramount  country,  a  great 
and  reviving  e£Fort  of  nature  to  throw  off  that  phantom 
which  sat  upon  her  breast,  and  gave  her  the  perception  of 
life  only  by  the  struggles  that  must  have  closed  in  stagna- 
tion and  death.  The  policy  of  the  English  minister  was 
too  enlarged  to  offer  resistance  to  an  impulse  awaked  on 
English  principles.  For  him  a  great  service  had  been 
done;  the  building  which  he  had  wished  to  shake  was  cast 
down  in  dust,  and  the  soil  left  open  for  the  visitations  of  all 
the  influences  of  good  government.  The  country  had  lain 
before  his  eye  a  vast  commonage,  incapable  of  cultivation, 
and  breeding  only  the  rank  and  pernicious  fertility  of  a 
neglected  morass ;  but  he  had  dreaded  to  disturb  its  mul- 
titude of  lordly  pauperism,  and  hereditary  plunder.  It 
was  now  cleared  and  enclosed  for  him,  a  noble  expanse  for 
the  out-pouring  of  all  that  civilization  could  give  to  its 
various  and  magnificent  nature.  The  history  of  those 
years  is  yet  to  be  written;  whenever  the  temple  is  to  be 
erected,  the  name  of  Curran  must  be  among  the  loftiest 
on  its  portal. 

'^  But  the  time  of  those  displays  which  raised  him  to  his 
highest  distinction  as  an  orator  was  of  a  darker  shade. 
His  country  had  risen,  like  the  giant  of  Scripture,  refreshed 
with  wine ;  her  vast  original  powers  doubly  excited  by  an 
elating  but  dangerous  draught  of  liberty.  She  had  just 
reached  that  state  in  which  there  Is  the  strongest  demand 
for  the  wisdom  of  the  legislator.  The  old  system  had 
been  disbanded,  but  the  whole  components  of  its  strength 
survived.  The  spirit  of  clanship  was  still  up  and  girded 
with  its  rude  attachments;  the  hatred  of  English  ascei- 
dancy  had  sheathed  the  sword,  but  kept  it  still  keen,  and 
only  waiting  the  word  to  leap  from  the  scabbard.  The 
ancient  Irish  habits  of  daring  gratification  among  all  ranks. 


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CURRAN.  359 

the  faUeo  estate  of  that  moltitade  who  had  lived  on  the 
pay  of  political  iotrigue,  the  reckless  poverty  of  that  over* 
wbelimog  population  to  which  civil  rights  coold  not  give 
bread,  all  fom^  a  maw  of  discordant  but  desperate 
strength,  which  only  required  a  sign.-^The  cross  was 
at  length  lifted  before  diem,  and.it  was  the  lifting  of 
a  banner  to  which  the  whole  darkened  host  looked  np,  at 
to  an  omen  of  assured  victory.  The  jrebellton  wab  met 
with  manly  promptitude,  and  the  country  was  set  at  peace. 
Curran  was  the  leading  counsel  in  the  trials  of  theconspi* 
lalors,  and  he  defended  those  guilty  and  misguided  men 
with  a  vigour  and  courage  of  talent,  less  like  the  emulation 
pf  an  advocate*  than  the  zeal  of  a  friend.  He  had  known 
many  of  them  in  the  intercourse  of  private  life;  some 
of  them  had  been  his  early  professional  associates.  A  good 
man  and  a  good  subject  might  have  felt  for  them  all.  The 
English  leveller  is  «  traitor;  the  Irish  rebel  might  have 
been  a  patriot.  Among  us,  the  revolutionist  sets  fire  to  a 
city,  a  great  work  of  the  wise  todastry,  and  old  established 
coQveniency  of  man,  a  place  c^  the  temple  and  the  palace^ 
the  treasures  of  living  grandeur,  and  the  monuments  of 
departed  virtue.  He  burns,  that  he  may  plunder  among 
the  ruins.  The  Irish  rebel  threw  bid  firebrand  into  a 
wilderness,  and  if  the  confiagration  rose  too  high,  and 
consumed  some  of  its  statelier  and  more  solid  ornaments, 
it  was  sure  to  turn  ihto  ashes  the  inveterate  and  tangled 
undergrowth  that  had  defied  his  rude  industry.  This  was 
tke  effervescence  of  heated  and  untaught  minds.  The 
worid  was  to  be  older  before  it  learned  the  curse  and 
unhappy  end  of  the  reform  that  begins  by  blood.  The 
French  revolution^  had  not  then  given  its  moral.  It  was 
still  to  the  eyes  of  the  multitude  like  the  primal  vision  in 
the  Apocalypse,  a  glorious  shape  coming  forth  in  nnstarned 
robes,  conquering  and  to  conquer  for  the  world's  happiness; 
it  had  not  yet,  like  that  mighty  emblem,  darkened  down 
through  all  its  shaped  of  terror,  till  it  moved  against  the 
world.  Death  on  the  pale  horse,  followed  by  the  unchained 


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360  CURRAN. 

spirits  of  human  evil,  and  smitiog  with  plagae,  and  fomine, 
and  the  sword. 

^^Some  criticism  has  been  wasted  on  the  presumed  defi- 
ciencies of  Curran's  speeches  on  those  memorable  trials. 
Throwing  off  the  public  fact  that  those  speeches  were  all  un- 
corrected copies,  Curran  was  of  all  orators  the  most  difficult 
to  follow  by  transcription.  His  elocution,  rapid,  exu- 
berant, and  6gurative  in  a  signal  degree,  was  often  com- 
pressed into  a  pregnant  pungency  which  gave  a  sentence 
in  a  word.  The  toord  hstj  the  charm  was  undone.  But  his 
manner  could  not  be  transferred,  and  it  was  created  for 
his  style.  His  eye,  hand,  and  figure  were  in  perpetual 
speech.  Nothing  was  abrupt  to  those  who  could  see  him; 
nothing  was  lost,  except  when  some  flash  would  burst  out, 
of  such  sudden  splendour  as  to  leave  them  suspended  and 
dazzled  too  strongly  to  follow  the  lustres  that  shot  after  it 
with  restless  iilumination.  Of  Curran's  speeches,  all  hav^ 
been  impaired  by  the  difficulty  of  the  period,  or  the  imme- 
diate circumstances  of  their  delivery.  Some  have  beeo 
totally  lost.  His  speech  on  the  trial  of  the  two  principal 
conductors  of  the  conspiracy,  the  Shears's,  barristers  and 
men  of  family,  was  made  at  midnight,  and  said  to  have 
been  his  most  masterly  effusion  of  pathetic  eloquence. 
Of  this  no  remnant  seems  to  have  been  preserved.  The 
period  was  fatal  to  their  authenticity.  When  Erskine 
pleaded,  he  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  secure  nation,  and 
pleaded  like  a  priest  of  the  temple  of  justice,  with  his 
hand  on  the  altar  of  the  constitution,  and  all  England 
below  prepared  to  treasure  every  fantastic  oracle  that 
came  from  his  lips.  Curran  pleaded,  not  on  the  floor  of  a 
shrine,  but  on  a  scaffold,  with  no  companions  but  the 
wretched  and  culpable  men  who  were  to  be  plunged  from 
it  ^ur  by  hour,  and  no  hearers  but  the  multitude,  who 
crouded  anxious  to  that  spot  of  hurried  execution,  and 
then  rushed  away  glad  to  shake  off  all  remembrance 
of  scenes  which  had  agitated  i^nd  torn  every  heart  among 
them.     It  is  this  which  puts  his  speeches  beyond  the 


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CURRAN,  361 

estiiiiate  of  the  closet.    He  had  do  thought  to  study  the 
cold  and  marble  graces  of  scholarship.    He  was  a  being 
embarked  in  strong  emergency^  a  man  and  not  a  statue. 
He  was  to  address  men,  of  whom  .he  must  make  himself 
the  master.  With  the  living  energy,  he  had  the  living  and 
regardless  variousness  of  attitude.     Where  he  could  not 
impel  by  exhortation,  or  overpower  by  menace,  he  did  not 
disdain  to  fling  himself  at  their  feet,  and  conquer  by  grasp- 
ing the  hem  of  their  robe.    For  this  triumph  he  was  all 
things  to  all  men.   His  wild  wit,  and  far-fetched  allusions, 
and  play  upon  words,  and  extravagant  metaphors,  all 
repulsive  to  our  cooler  judgments,  were  wisdom  and  sub- 
limity before  the  juries  over  whom  he  waved  his  wand. 
Before  a  higher  audience  he  might  have  been  a  model  of 
sustained  dignity; — mingling  with  those  men  he  was  com- 
pelled to  speak  the  language  that  reached  their  hearts. 
^  Curran  in  the  presence  of  an  Irish  jury  was  first  of  the 
first.    He  skirmished  round  the  field,  trying  every  point 
of  attack  with  unsuspected  dexterity,  still  pressing  on,  till 
the  decisive  moment  was  come,  when  he  developed  his 
force,  and  poured  down  his  whole  array  in  a  mass  of 
matchless  strength,  originality,  and  grandeur.    It  was  in 
this  originality  that  a  large  share  of  his  fascination  con- 
sisted.    The  course  of  other  great  public  speakers  may  in 
general  be  predicted  from  their  out^t ;  but  in  this  man, 
the  mindji  always  full,  was  always  varying  the  direction  of 
its  exuberance;  it  was  no  regular  stream,  rolling  down  in 
a  smooth  and  straight-forward  volume; — it  had  the  way- 
ward beauty  of  a  mountain  torrent,  perpetually  delighting 
the  eye  with  some  unexpected  sweep  through  the  wild  and 
the  picturesque,  always  rapid,  always  glancing  back  sun- 
shine, till  it  swelled  into  sudden  strength,  and  thundered 
over  like  a  cataract.     For  his  noblest  images  there  was  no 
preparation,  they  seemed  to  come  spontaneously,  and  they 
came  mingled  with  the  lightest  products  of  his  mind.    It 
was  the  volcano  flinging  up  in  succession  curls  of  vapour, 
and  fiery  rocks ;  all  from  the  same  exhaustless  depths,  and 
with  the  same  unmeasured  strength  to  which  the  light  and 


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see  CURRAN- 

the  maasive  were  equ^.  We  had  the  fortune  to  hear  amne 
of  those  speeches,  and  repeat  it,  that  to  feel  the  fall  geniaa 
of  the  man,  he  must  have  been  heard.  His  eloquence  waa 
not  a  studiously  sheltered  and  feebly  fed  flame,  but  atordh 
blazing  only  with  the  more  breadth  and  brilliaooy,  aa 
it  was  the  more  broadly  and  boldly  waved :  it  was  not 
a  lamp,  to  live  in  his  tomb.  His  printed  speeches  lie 
before  us,  full  of  the  errors  that  might  convict  him  of  an 
extravagant  imagination  and  a  perverted  taate.  But  when 
those  are  to  be  brought  in  impeachment  against  the  great 
orator,  it  must  be  remembered,  that  they  were  spoken  for 
atriuntph,  which  they  gained;  that  we  are  now  pausing 
over  the  rudeness  and  imwieldiness  of  the  weapons  of  ^e 
dead,  without  reference  to  the  giant's  hand  that  with  them 
drove  the  field.  Curran's  carelessness  of  fame  has  done 
this  dishonour  to  his  memory.  We  have  but  the  frag-' 
ments  of  bis  mind,  and  are  investigating  those  glorious 
reliques,  separated  and  mutilated,  like  the  sculptures 
of  the  Parthenon ;  while  they  ought  to  have  been  gazed  on 
where  the  great  master  had  placed  them,  where  all  their 
shades  and  foreshortenings  were  relief  and  vigour, — image 
above  image,  rising  in  proportioned  and  conaecraied 
beauty ;  as  statues  on  the  face  of  a  temple. 

''  His  career  in  parliament  was  less  memorable.  But 
the  cause  lay  in  no  d^eiency  of  those  powers  which  give 
weight  in  a  legislative  assembly.  In  the  few  instances  in 
which,  his  fedings  took  a  part,  he  excited  the  same  admb- 
ration  which  had  followed  him  through  hi«  professional 
^orts.  But  bis  lot  had  been  cast  in  the  courts  of  law, 
aad  his  life  was  there.  He  came  into  the  house  of  cobh 
mons  wearied  by  the  day,  and  reluctant  to  urge  himself  to 
teertioiis  rendered  le»  imperious  by  the  croud  of  able 
men  who  fought  the  battle  of  opposition. — His  general 
speeches  in  parliament  were  the  sports  of  the  moment,  the 
irresistible  overflow  of  a  humorous  disdain  of  bis  adversary. 
He  left  the  heavy  arms  to  the  habitual  combatants,  and 
amused  himself  with  light  and  hovering  hostility.  But 
bia  shaft  wa&  dreaded,  and  his  subtilty  was  sure  to  insinuate 


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CURRAN.  S6S 

iMwajy  where  there  was  a  mortal  pang  to  he  wrimg.  With 
sttch  gifts  what  might  not  sQch  a  man  have  been*  removed 
from  the  low  prejudices,  and  petty  factions,  and  desperate 
objects  that  thickened  the  atmosphere  of  public  life  in 
Ireland,  into  the  large  prospects,  and  noble  and  healthful 
aspirations  that  elated  the  spirit  in  this  country,  then 
rising  to  that  summit  of  eminence  from  whieh  the  world 
at  last  lies  beneath  her !  If  it  were  permitted  to  enter  into 
the  recesses  of  inch  a  mind,  some  painful  consciousness  of 
this  fate  would  probably  have  been  found  to  accoant  for 
that  oecasioDal  irritation  wad  spleen  of  heart,  with  which 
he  shaded  his  public  life,  and  disguised  the  homage  which 
he  must  have  felt  for  a  country  like  England.  It  must 
have  been  nothing  inferior  to  this  bitter  sense  of  utter 
expulsion,  which  could  have  made  such  a  being,  gazing 
upon  her  unclouded  glory,  lift  his  voice  only  to  tell  her 
how  he  bated  her  beams.  He  must  have  mentally  mea- 
sured his  strength  with  her  mighty  men ;  Burke  and  Pitt 
and  Fox  were  then  moving  in  their  courses  above  the 
eyes  of  the  world,  great  luminaries,  passing  over  in 
different  orbits,  but  all  illustrating  the  same  superb  and 
general  system.  He  had  one  moment  not  unlike  theirs^ 
But  the  Irish  Revolution  of  1780  was  too  brief  for  the 
labours  or  the  celebrity  of  patriotism,  and  this  powerful 
and  eccentric  mind,  after  rushing  from  its  obscuration  just 
near  enough  to  be  mingled  with,  and  glow  in  the  system, 
was  again  hurried  away  to  chillness  and  darkness  beyond 
the  gaze  of  mankind. 

'*  The  details  of  Currants  private  Hfe  are  for  the  biogra* 
pher.  But  of  that  portion  which,  lying  between  public 
labours  acid  domestic  privacy,  forms  the  chief  ground  for 
the  individual  character,  we  may  speak  with  no  slight 
panegyric.  Few  men  of  his  means  of  inflicting  pain 
could  have  been  more  reluctant  to  use  them;  few  men 
whose  lives  passed  in  continual  public  conflict  could  have 
had  fe>yer  personal  enemies,  and  perhaps  no  man  of  his 
time  has  left  sincerer  regrets  among  his  personal  friends. 
He  was  fond  of  encouraging  the  rising  talent  of  his  pro- 


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364  CALDWELL. 

fessioDy  and  gave  his  advice  aod  bis  praise  uogrudginglj, 
wherever  they  might  Idodle  or  direct  a  geoerous  emulation. 
As  a  festive  compaQion  he  seems  to  have  been  utterly 
unequalled ;  and  has  left  on  record  more  of  the  happiest 
strokes  of  a  fancy  at  once  classic,  keen,  and  brilliant^  than 
the  most  habitual  wit  of  the  age.     It  may  yet  be  a  lesson 
worth  the  memory  of  those  who  feel  themselves  neglected 
by  nature,  that  with  all  his  gifts,  Curran's  life  was  not  that 
one  which  would  satisfy  a  man  desirous  of  being  happy. 
But  let  no  man  imagine  that  the  possession  of  the  most 
fortunate  powers,  is  an  excuse  for  error,  still  less  aa 
obstruction   to   the  sense  of  holy   obedience;  our  true 
emblem  is  in  the  Archangel,  bending  with  the  deepest 
homage,  as  he  rises  the  highest  in  intellectual  glory." — 
Octobers,  1817. 


SiK  JAMES  CALDWELL 
Was  descended  from  a  family  which  came  over  from 
Ayrshire,  in  Scotland,  in  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  he  was  settled  at  Ross  Bay,  afterwards  called 
Castle  Caldwell,  in  Fermanagh.  He  was  created  a  baronet, 
June  23,  1683.  At  the  Revolution  his  services  were  of 
the  highest  importance,  as  appears  by  the  following  case 
enclosed  in  a  petition  to  King  William. 

The  StaU  qfihe  Case  ^^  Jamee  CaUweU^  Bari, 
That  he  staid  in  Ireland  in  aU  tiie  late  troobles  at  and  near  EDniikiffin, 
till  the  end  of  the  year  1689,  and  raised  and  maintained  a  regiment  of  foot 
and  two  troops  of  horse,  at  his  own  charge,  and  kept  the  same  at  the  great 
passes  at  Belleck  and  Donegal,  between  Conaaght  and  the  province  of 
Ulster,  which  was  of  such  consequence,  that  it  hindered  commonication 
between  the  enemies  in  the  said  province  of  Conanght  (which  were  very 
nvmeroos)  from  joining  or  recruiting  those  besieging  Londonderry. 

That  the  said  Sir  James  CaldweU  was  besieged  with  a  detached  party 
from  Colonel  Sarsfield,  of  about  the  number  of  two  thousand  foot,  and  three 
troops  of  dragoons,  about  the  3rd  of  May,  1689,  and  was  fbrced  to  send  to 
Ennbkillin,  CasUe  Hume,  and  other  neighboaring  garrisons,  for  relief, 
which  came  on  the  8th  of  Biay^and  joined  tiie  forces,  which  Sir  James 
Caldwell  had,  who  then  fought  the  enemy  near  Sir  James's  house,  and 
routed  them,  killing  about  a  hundred  and  twenty,  took  seventy  prisoners, 
two  cannon,  many  small  arms,  and  about  forty  horses,  from  the  enemy. 


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CALDWELL.  365. 

Tkat  tbe  nid  Sir  James  Caldwell  abo  placed  bis  son  Hugh  Caldwell  in 
the  garrison  of  Donegal,  over  three  companies  of  foot^and  a  troop  of  horse, 
being  the  next  garrison  to  Londonderry  the  protestants  were  possessed  of, 
which  was  of  sndi  conseqneDce,  that  if  the  enemy  had  been  masters  of  it, 
the  whole  country  aboot  Rnniskillin  must  have  submitted  to  them. 

That  the  said  Hugh  Caldwell  had  several  ofito  of  money  and  preferment 
from  the  Duke  of  Berwick  to  surrender  the  place,  but  always  told  him  he 
woidd  defend  it  to  the  last ;  as  appears  afterwards  by  the  defence  he  made 
against  the  Duke,  who  attacked  him  with  fifteen  hundred  men,  burnt  some 
part  of  the  town,  but  was  beaten  off  with  considerable  loss,  which  Colonel 
Lnttrel  can  give  ^an  account  of;  as  also  of  the  said  Sir  James's  vigilant  and 
faithful  behaviour  in  the  defence  of  that  country. 

That  the  said  Sir  James  Caldwell  went  in  an  open  boat  from  Donegal  to 
Migor-Oeneral  Kirk  by  sea,  forty  leagues,  on  the  most  dangerous  coast  on 
that  kingdom,  not  having  any  other  way  to  have  communication  with  him, 
to  acquaint  him  with  the  condition  of  that  country,  to  which  he  was  then 
a  stranger,  and  to  get  arms  and  ammunition  from  him,  which  were  greatly 
wanting  to  arm  the  naked  men  in  the  country.  Some  time  after,  the  said 
Sir  James  Caldwell  was  sent  back  with  Colonel  Wolsely,  Colonel  Tifiany, 
Cx>lonel  Wynne,  and  some  ammunition,  by  the  said  m^or-generaJ,  who  then 
gave  the  said  Sir  James  a  commission  to  be  colonel  of  foot,  and  a  troop  of 
horse  independent,  as  by  the  said  commissions  will  appear;  that  within 
four  or  ^ye  days  after  they  landed  their  men  were  forced  to  fight  Lieute- 
nant'General  Macarty,  and  obtained  a  great  victory  agahist  him,  as  has 
been  heard. 

That  the  said  Sir  James  met  Duke  Schomberg  when  he  landed  at  Carick- 
fergus,  and  staid  the  siege  of  that  place ;  and  afterwards  went  to  Dundalk 
with  the  Duke,  and  staid  that  campaign  with  him,  till  about  a  week  before 
he  decamped,  which  the  now  Duke  Schomberg  will  certify. 

That  the  said  Sir  James  Caldwell  expended  in  money,  arms,  provisions, 
and  other  necessaries,  to  support  those  troops,  which  were  raised  for  the 
king's  service,  and  what  he  lost  by  the  destruction  of  his  town,  houses, 
iron  mills,  stud  of  horses,  and  stock  of  black  cattle,  and  other  essential 
losses,  aihounted  to  about  ten  thousand  pounds. 

That  the  said  Sir  James's  second  son  also  suffered  very  much,  by  cattle 
and  provisions  taken  from  him  by  our  own  army  at  Bally  Shannon,  for  the 
maintenance  of  that  garrison,  without  which  they  could  not  have'  sus- 
tained. 

That  the  said  James  Caldwell  had,  after  the  campaign  at  Dundalk,  a 
regiment  of  dragoous,  and  a  regiment  of  foot  quartered  in  his  house  and 
town  of  Belleek,  wtiich  did  him  much  damage,  and  destroyed  many  things, 
which  he,  with  so  much  difilculty,  saved  ftom  the  enemy. 

That  also  the  said  Sir  James  Caldwell's  daughter,  Elizabeth,  conveyed 
several  quantities  of  powder  from  Dublin,  by  his  coaunands,  to  Enniskillin, 
and  other  garrisons  thereabout,  to  the  hazard  of  her  life,  as  may  appear  by 
my  Lord  Capel's  report,  upon  a  reference  to  him. 

The  truth  of  the  above  statement  was  supported  by 


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366  CALDWELL. 

various  docaments  from  the  lord-lieotenaDt  and  other 
officers  of  the  king.  His  majesty,  in  recompence  of  his 
services,  bestowed  upon  him  in  cuUodiam,  for  seven  jears^ 
the  whole  of  the  forfeited  Bagnal  estate,  then  let  for  8000/. 
per  annum ;  at  the  end  of  which  time  it  was  to  be  restored 
to  the  Bagnal  family,  and  Sir  James  was  to  be  otherwise 
provided  for.     He  died  in  1717. 


HUME  CALDWELL, 

Who  in  the  compass  of  a  very  short  life,  obtained  more 
military  glory  than  has  fallen  to  the  lot  of  most  individuals 
who  have  embraced  the  profession  of  arms,  was  the  third 
son  of  Sir  John  Caldwell,  of  Castle  Caldwell,  and  great 
grandson  of  the  subject  of  the  preceding  article.  Pos- 
""sessed  of  all  those  warm  and  generous  feelings  so  peculiar 
to  the  Irish,  blended  with  a  share  of  that  uncalculating 
ardour  of  mind,  more  honourable  than  profitable,  which 
has  also  been  considered  their  characteristic,  he  rose 
deservedly  and  rapidly  to  high  military  honours. 

He  was  born  in  the  year  1735,  and  being  intended  for 
the  university,  was  instructed  in  the  Latin  and  Greek  lan- 
guages, under  a  private  tutor,  till  he  was  about  fourteen 
years  of  age,  at  which  time  he  had  made  considerable 
progress  in  both. 

His  brother,  Sir  James,  having  distinguished  himself  in 
the  army  of  the  Empress  Queen,  to  whose  notice  he  had 
thus  recommended  himself,  she  made  him  an  offer  of 
taking  one  of  his  brothers  into  her  service,  which  he  ac- 
cepted in  favour  of  Hume,  who  was  therefore  placed  in  a 
French  academy  at  Dublin,  to  learn  the  modern  languages 
and  mathematics.  Here,  being,  though  so  young,  troubled 
with  some  symptoms  of  the  gout,  he  gave  a  specimen  of 
that  firmness  and  self-denial  which  were  his  characteris- 
tics, by  abstaining,  at  the  recommendation  of  his  master, 
from  animal  food  and  fermented  liquors,  and  during  a  year 
that  be  remained  there,  was  never  known  to  depart  once 
from  this  rule. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CALDWELL.  36T 

In  tke  year  1750,  on  the  condusiou  of  the  peace,  hi» 
brother  quitted  the  imperial  service,  and  returned  to  Lon* 
don,  whither  Hume  repaired,  and  was  furnished  bj  him 
with  letters  of  recommendation  to  Marshal  Konigsegg,  a 
letter  of  credit  on  Baron  Aguilar  for  a  1000/.  and  300/.  in 
money,  with  which,  and  a  TaLet  acquainted  with  the  lan- 
guage, he  set  out  on  his  journey  to  Vienna. 

Tbey  were  to  go  in  the  stage  coach  to  Harwich,  and  the 
baggage  having  been  sent  to  the  inn  the  mght  before,  they 
were  to  meet  it  the  next  morning*  By  some  negligence  or 
other,  however,  they  did  not  arrive  till  the  coach  had  been 
gone  at  least  half  an  hour.  The  servant  proposed  taking  post 
horses,  but  Hume  refused,  saying,  he  was  resolved  that  no 
meyf  expense  should  accrue  from  his  want  of  diligence  or 
punctuality,  and  insisted  on  their  trying  to  overtake  the 
coach  on  foot.  They  accordingly  set  out  running  until  they 
were  out  of  breath,  and  walking  till  they  were  able  to  rua 
again ;  but  with  all  their  exertions  they  could  not  reach  the 
coach  till  they  came  to  the  place  where  it  stopped  for  the 
passengers  to  breakfast.  They  now  calcubted  on  a  com- 
fortable journey  the  rest  of  their  way,  but  unfortunately, 
the  places  which  had  been  taken  for  them,  were  filled  by 
two  women.  Hume's  gallantry  would  not  permit  him  to 
assert  his  right ;  he  therefore  complimented  the  females 
with  the  places,  and  went  the  rest  of  the  journey  with  his 
attendant  on  the  outside. 

On  his  arrival  at  Vienna,  he  was  received  by  Marshal 
Konigsegg  and  his  lady,  with  markd  of  an  almost  parental 
affection,  and  they  being  persons  of  high  distinction,  he 
imagined  that  he  also  ought  to  support  that  character. 
For  this  purpose  he  took  expensive  lodgings,  kept  a  cha* 
riot,  a  running  footman,  and  a  hussar,  and  was  admitted 
into  the  highest  circles ;  but  at  the  close  of  about  five 
weeks,  finding  his  ^  stock  of  cash  much  diminished,  and 
having  formed  a  resolution  not  to  have  recourse  to  the 
letter  of  credit  which  he  possessed,  he  determined  to  repair 
immediately  to  the  corps  in  which  he  was  to  serve ;  he. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


368  CALDWELL. 

therefore  expressed  to  the  marshal  a  wish  to  obtain  an 
audience  of  the  Empress  Queen.  The  marshal  highly 
approved*  of  this  undertaking,  and  immediately  procured 
him  that  honour,  her  majesty  being  always  easy  of 
access. 

When  introduced  to  her  majesty,  he  expressed,  in  a  very 
animated  speech  in  the  French  language,  his  resolution  to 
devote  himself  entirely  and  for  ever  to  her  service^  and 
his  determination  either  to  rise  to  a  distinguished  com- 
mand in  her  armies,  or  to  die  in  the  attempt. 

The  empress  was  so  much  pleased  with  this  spirited, 
yet  modest  address,  that  she  told  him  she  did  not  at  all 
doubt  of  his  efforts  in  her  service,  and  said  some  obliging 
things  of  the  Irish;  inquired  very  graciously  after  his 
.  brother,  and  concluded  by  saying,  that  she  had  recom- 
mended him  to  Marshal  Konigsegg  for  preferment^  who 
was  himself  very  much  inclined  to  serve  him. 

After  quitting  the  empress,  he  repaired  to  the  marshal,, 
and  begged  to  be  sent  to  his  regiment,  where  he  said  he 
would  serve  and  improve  himself  in  learning  the  language 
and  his  duty,  till  his  excellency  should  think  proper  to 
honour  him  with  a  commission.  The  marshal  gave  him 
a  letter  of  recommendation  in  the  strongest  terms  to  the 
colonel  of  the  regiment  who  was  then  at  the  head-quarters, 
at  Coningsgratz. 

Hume  immediately  went  to  his  lodgings,  discharged  his 
servants,  and  paid  all  his  debts  after  which,  to  his  surprise, 
he  found  he  had  but  two  gold  ducats  left.  This  was  a 
blow  that  completely  disconcerted  all  his  measures,  as  it 
disabled  him  from  appearing  as  a  volunteer  in  the  army, 
a  station  very  incompatible  with  his  present  circumstances, 
as  he  continued  firm  in  his  resolution  not  to  touch  his 
letter  of  credit.  Still,  however,  determined  upon  learning 
the  language  and  military  discipline  of  the  country,  with- 
out losing  time  in  fruitless  regret,  he  packed  up  his 
clothes  and  other  ornaments,  and  deposited  them  all  at 
^s  banker's   except  the  worst  suit,  which  he  wore ;  even 


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CALDWELL.  30D 

this,  howefer,  w&s  too  good  for  his  pi«ietit  purpose ;  h% 
therefore,  exchanged  it  for  worse  with  a  Jew  dealer  in 
second-hand  clothes. 

He  destroyed  the  marshal's  letter,  which  could  now  be 
of  no  sertice  to  him,  and  thus  equipped,  the  companion  of 
princes,  the  friend  of  Count  Konigsegg,  the  possessor  of 
a  splendid  hotel,  and  a  gilt  chariot,  who  had  kept  a  hussar, 
and  an  opera  girl,  figured  at  court,  and  had  an  audience 
from  the  empress,  and  was  possessed  of  a  letter  of  credit 
for  a  1000^  (animated  by  the  same  spirit  which  had,  when 
he  suffered  the  stagecoach  to  leave  him  behind,  urged 
him  rather  to  overtake  it  on  foot  than  incur  the  expense 
of  hiring  horses  by  his  delay)  s^t  out  from  Viebn^  alone, 
On  foot,  in  a  mean  habit,  and  with  an  empty  pocket,  for 
that  army,  in  which  he  was  to  rise  by  his  merit,  to  a  dis«- 
tinguished  command.  Having  arrived  at  a  village  near 
Prague,  where  a  party  of  Konigsegg's  regiment  was 
quartered,  he  enlisted  by  a  feigned  name  as  a  private  sol- 
dier. In  this  humble  station  he  made  so  great  a  progress* 
in  the  language,  and  behaved  with  so  much  diligence,  as 
to  be  particularly  noticed  by  the  lieutenant  who  com- 
manded the  party. 

In  about  two  months  time,  Konigsegg  wrote  to  Ihe 
colonel,  inquiring  after  Hume  Caldwell,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  sent  an  ensign's  commission  for  him.  The  cblonel, 
in  great  astonishment,  wrote,  in  answer  to  the  marshal, 
that  he  knew  no  such  person,  nor  had  he  ever  received  any 
recommendation  of  him,  neither  had  any  such  person  joined 
the  regiment.  The  marshal  in  his  reply,  expressed  gre^ 
regard  for  the  young  gentleman,  and  diriected  inquiry  to 
be  made  after  him.  Inquiry  was  immediately  made,  but 
no  tidings  could  be  heard;  at  last,  somebody  informed 
the  colonel,  that  there  was  an  Irish  soldier  at  certain  quar- 
ters, who  might  possibly  know  something  of  him.  He 
was  imtnediately  sent  for,  and  the  colonel,  asking  him  if 
he  knew  of  any  such  person,  mentioning,  at  the  same  time, 
that  there  was  a  commission  sent  down  for  him,  was 
surprised  to  hear  him  answer,  that  he  was  the  man. 

vox.   I.  BB 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


370  CALDWELL. 

The  lieutenaDt  under  whom  be  bad  enlistedyliaTiiig  com- 
mended him  in  the  highest  terms^  these  circamstances  were 
commudicated  by  the  colonel  to  the  marshal,  and  by  the  lat« 
ter  to  the  empress,  who  soon  after  gave  him  a  lieutenancy. 
He  continued  to  apply  himself  very  diligently  to  the  study 
of  his  profession,  but  an  accident  happened  to  him  which 
was  near  putting  an  end  to  his  life  and  prospects  at  once. 
Reading  one  night  in  bed,  he  fell  asleep,  and  the  candle 
falling  from  his  hand,  set  fire  to  the  curtains;  he  was, 
however,  fortunate  enough  to  escape  in  time  to  save  the 
house  from  destruction,  but  the  greater  part  of  the  furni- 
ture in  the  room  was  consumed ;  on  account  of  which  the 
people  of  the  house  obtained  the  sequestration  of  half  his 
pay,  till  the  damage  was  made  good.  This  involved  him 
in  great  distress^  but  he  acquiesced  without  complaint* 
The  circumstance,  however,  soon  became  known,  and 
coming  to  the  knowledge  of  a  large  convent  of  Irish  fran- 
ciscans  established  at  Prague,  one  of  the  fathers  of  which, 
happening  to  have  known  Sir  John  Caldwell,  our  young 
hero's  father,  in  Ireland,  gave  this  account  of  him  to  the 
fraternity  :—*' Sir  John,"  said  he,  ''though  a  staunch  protes- 
tant,  always  treated  the  Roman  catholics  with  humanity 
ai^  tenderness :  in  particular,  one  stormy  day,  when  it 
rained  very  hard,  he  discovered  a  priest  with  his  congre- 
gation, at  mass  under  a  hedge :  and  instead  of  taking  that 
opportunity  of  blaming  them  for  meeting  so  near  his 
house,  he  ordered  his  cows  to  be  driven  out  of  a  neigh- 
bouring cow-bouse,  and  signified  to  the  priest  and  people 
that  they  might  take  shelter  from  the  weather,  and  finish 
their  devotion  in  peace.  It  ill  becomes  u^  therefore, 
brethren,''  said  he,  **  to  see  the  son  of  Sir  John  Caldwell 
distressed  in  a  strange  country,  remote  from  all  his  friends, 
without  affording  him  assistance." 

The  fraternity,  having  heard  this  account^  contrived,  by 
mutual  consent,  to  have  the  debt  paid,  unknown  to  young 
Caldwell,  who,  shortly  afterwards,  being  advanced  to  a 
company,  presented  them  with  treble  the  sum,  and  returned 
his  brother's  lettej  of  credit.    From  this, time  he  was^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


.  CALDWELL.  371 

Qcdvdy  eogaged  in  the  duties  of  his  professioD,  in  which 
he  rote  gradilally  bat  rapidly,  ^e  was  of  great  service  in 
cottiog  off  the  ccmvoys,  and  annoyiiig  the  reinforcemeots 
which  were  sent  to  the  assistance  of  the  King  of  Prussia, 
daring  the  siege  of  Olmatz,  particularly  in  the  defeat  and 
destruction  of  the  great  convoy,  the  loss  of  which  com- 
pelled Frederic  to  raise  the  siege.  In  this  action  he  so 
highly  distinguished  himself,  as  to  be  made  a  major  on  the 
field  of  battle,  by  General  Laudohn ;  and  in  the  coarse  of 
the  ensQiag  wtiiter,  be  was  created  a  knight  of  the  military 
order. 

In  the  campaign  of  176O,  he  was  appointed  to  the  com- 
mand of  two  battalions,  four  hundred  croats,  and  two  squad- 
rons of  hussars,which  formed  the  advanced  guard  before  the 
battle  of  Landshat,  in  which  memorable  battle  he  forced 
the  enemy,  sword  in  hand,  firom  three  formidable  entrench- 
ments, made  himself  master  of  the  hill,  and  contributed 
much  to  the  taking  of  General  Fouquet,  who  commanded 
the  Prussian  army.  All  the  other  field-officers  of  his 
regiment  being  wounded  in  this  action,  he  commanded  it 
during  the  remainder  of  the  campaign,  and  being  sent  to 
Glatz,  contributed  much  to  the  taking  of  that  important 
fortress.  The  army  of  General  Laudohn  being  entirely 
routed  by  the  King  of  Prussia  at  Lignitz,  Caldwell, 
observing  a  favourable  opportunity  for  the  horse  to  charge, 
by  a  wonderful  exertion  of  spirit  and  presence  of  mind, 
gave  the  commanding  officers  orders  in  the  general's 
same  to  advance,  and  placing  himself  at  their  bead,  suc- 
ceeded in  putting  a  stop  to  the  progress  of  the  Prussians, 
by  which  means  he  secured  the  retreat  of  almost  half  of  the 
army,  which  was  dispersed  and  in  the  utmost  confusion. 
For  this  important  service  he  was  immediately  advanced  to 
the  rank  of  lieutenan^colonel,  and  in  the  succeeding  cam- 
paign always  commanded  the  advanced  or  rear-guard  of 
Landohn's  army,  when  on  a  march. 

At  the  storming  of  Schweidnitz,  he  acted  as  that  gene- 
raps  immediate  instrument,  being  put  at  the  head  of  a  con- 
siderable corps ;  and  the  assault  being  entirely  left  to  him, 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


$19,  CALDWELL. 

which,  aithougfa  he  had  never  before  been  in  that  fortress, 
he  conducted  with  consummate  skill,  himself  leading  one 
of  the  most  difficult  and  dangerous  attacks.  He  succeeded 
at  the  first  onset,  and  being  the  first  field-officer  that 
entered  the  town,  was  setit  to  Dresden  and  to  Marshal 
Daun  with  an  account  of  the  success,  and  was  immediately 
tAkde  a  colonel.  To  follow  him  through  all  the  battles 
and  sieges  in  whieh  he  was  engaged  daring  these  cam- 
paigns, would  be  giving  a  history  of  Laudobn's  army; 
suffice  it  to  say,  that  he  was  in  every  action  of  consequence 
in  which  that  army  was  engaged,  and  was  honoured  by  so 
much  of  the  general's  confidence  as  to  be  very  frequently 
employed  above  his  rank,  in  preference  to  many  older 
officers. 

He  had  received  two  severe  wounds  in  cutting  off  the 
king  of  Prussia's  convoy  at  Olmutz,  in  consequence  of 
which  he  bad  been  left  for  dead,  and  a  slight  one  at  the 
escalade  of  Schweidnitz.  In  July  1762,  a  short  time 
before  the  last  siege  of  that  fortress,  he  was  ordered  thither 
by  Daun  to  assist  in  its  defence.  On  the  8th  of  August 
the  trenobes  were  opened,  and  on  the  dth  he  commanded 
a  well-conducted  sally.  On  the  13th,  at  night,  he  con^ 
ducted  a  second,  in  which  he  was  struck  by  an  iron 
cartridge  ball,  on  the  outside  of  the  upper  part  of  his  left 
arm,  which  broke  the  articulation  of  his  shoulder,  and 
driving  the  limb  wjth  great  force  against  his  side,  caused 
a  violent  and  extensive  contusion,  which  was  pronounced 
by  the  surgeon  to  be  much  more  dangerous  than  the 
fracture.  He  appeared  so  greatly  better  in  the  course  of 
a  few  days,  as  to  give  hopes  of  his  recovery,  but  on  the 
18th  such  an  alteration  for  the  worse  had  taken  place,  as 
gave  a  certain  presage  of  his  death.  About  seven  o^olock 
that  evening  he  sent  for  a  particular  friend.  Captain  Sullivan, 
who  commanded  a  company  of  grenadiers  in  Konigsegg's 
regiment ;  but  as  he  was  upon  duty,  he  could  not  leave  bis 
post  till  he  was  relieved,  which  was  about  nine.  As  soon 
as  be  came  into  the  room,  the  colonel  said  to  him,  ^*  My 
dear  Sullivan,  as  you  have  known  me  intimately  several 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CALDWELL.  37^ 

years,  you  know  that  1  never  feared  iM  hour  that  is  now 
<sooie:  I  find  so  strange  an  alteration  in  myself  since  yes« 
terday,  and  have  sensations  so  different  from  all  I  ever  felt 
before,  that  I  think  it  impossible  I  should  live  through  this 
night  c  the  only  lavour  I  have  toheg  of  yon  is,  that  you 
would  acquaint  my  mother  and  brothers  that  I  die  like  an 
honest  wan,  who  always  had  his  duty  in  view;  tell  them^ 
thtt  I  always  had  my  family  and  country  at  heart,  aad 
that  it  was  the  constant  study  of  my  life  to  do  them 
liononr*  A$  God  is  now  calling  me  from  this  world, 
I  desire  to  be  thankful  to  him  for  all  hil  goodness  to  me 
in  it,  which  has  been  very  extraordinary,  for  all  my.underi- 
takings  have  been  crowned  with  success.;  I  am  still  more 
thankful  that  I  have  dow  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with, 
and  that  I  can  die  not  only  with  resignation,  but  comfort.^ 

After  this,  Mr.  Sullivan  remained  with  him  the  whole 
Dight,  he  settled  bis  affairs,  told  him  what  he  owedy  dnd 
what  he  possessed;  a  person  was  sent  for  to  make  hia.  witt, 
by  which  he  directed  his  debts  to  be  paid,  and  gare  peca- 
niary  rewards  to  aU  his  servants,  appointing  Captain  Snt- 
liv^  his  executcir:  the  reit  of  the  night  he  spent  withk 
minister  of  the  Lutheran  churchy  and  io  tatkiftg  of  his 
mother,  his  brothen,  and  family. 

At  eight  Captain  Sullivan  lek  him,  but  returned  again 
at  ten,  when  he  found  him  delirious.  He  staid  tiD  tw^lve^ 
when  the  lastagouy  coming  op,  be  oould  no  longer  sustain 
the  pain  it  gave,  him  to  be  present  at  auch  a  Mene,  and 
tberdbre  retired^  About  two  o'el6ck  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  19th  of  August,  176t/  the  colonel  died,  in  the  twenty^ 
seventh  year  of  his  i^e,  and  was  buried  the  next  day,  in  a 
kind  of  A  chapel  or  grotto;  in  the  Lutheran  i^roh-ynR}, 
which  is  reserved  for  persons  of  distinction* 

Thus  died  in  the  post  of  honour,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
seven.  Colonel  Hume  Caldwell,  sincerely  and  deservedly 
lamented  by  the  empress,  the  general,  and  the  whole  army. 
To  what  high  rank  and  honours  such  an  ardent  spirit  and 
andi  iiigh  professional  skill  flcnght  have  devated  him,  had 
he  lived,  may  be  conjectured  from  this  faint  sketch  o£  ^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


874  CALDWELL. 

life,  short  but  bigilliant*  Indee<il,  bad  be  survived  this 
fatal  siege,  he  would  have  been  immediately  appointed  a 
general,  and  also  chamberlain  to  their  imperial  majesties, 
as  appears  by  letters  since  received  by  his  brother,  Sir 
James.  The  regret  felt  by  such  a  man  as  General  Laudohn, 
for  his  death,  is  the  best  proof  of  his  worth;  we  shall 
therefore  cooclude  this  article  by  the  following  translation 
of  a  letter  from  that  general  to  Colonel  Lockhart,  on  the 
subject. 

^'Notwithstanding  the  frequent  sallies  that  have  been 
made  since  the  beginning  of  the  siege,  oof  loss  has  not 
been  very  considerable ;  the  greatest  that  we  have  suffered 
is  by  the  death  of  Colonel  Chevalier  de  Caldwell,  who,  in 
one  of  the  sallies,  which  was  conducted  by  him,  as  well  as 
many  ^others,  had  the  misfortune  to  be  wounded,  of  which 
he  died  in  three  days  after. 

'^I  have  no  occasion  to  represent  to  you  the  very  great 
and  just  affliction  I  have  suffered  on  account  of  his  death. 
You  know  very  well  how  much  I  honoured  and  esteemed 
th^t  worthy  officer,  who,  by  his  intrepidity  and  courage, 
which  was  so  natural  to  him,  as  well  as  by  his  amiable  qua- 
lities, had  gained  the  friendship  of  all  the  generals  of  the 
army,  as  well  as  the  universal  esteem  of  the  public.  His 
memory  shall  be  for  ever  dear  to  me ;  indeed  he  is  univer* 
sally  lamented. 

^^As  I  know  the  friendship  which  subsisted  between  you, 
I  am  persuaded  this  account  will  give  you  the  greatest 
affliction.  I  entreat  that  you  would  acquaint  his  family, 
and  in  particular  his  brother  the  count,  with  this  melan- 
choly event ;  it  gives  me  the  greatest  pain  to  be  obUged  to 
acquaint  them  with  it,  and  1  myself,  on  this  occasion,  am 
\ery  much  to  be  pitied." 

''  Dated  at  Shiobe,  the  27th  of  August,  1762." 


HENRY  CALDWELL, 

Gtrbat  grandson  of  Sir  James,  and  brother  of  Hume 
Caldwell,  served  as  captain  of  the  d6th  regiment  of  foot. 


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CALDWELL.  375 

with  the  rank  of  major  in  the  army,  onder  the  command 
of  the  great  General  Wolfe/  He  distinguished  himself 
both  at  the  capture  of  Loubburg  and  of  Quebec.  He  so 
iiEur  recommended  himself  to  the  favour  and  kindness  of  the 
general,  that  he  made  him  live  with  him  in  his  own  family, 
and  expressed  his  esteem  and  regard  for  him  by  leaving 
him  a^  legacy  in  his  will.  After  the  conquest  of  Canada, 
be  was  made  a  privy  counsellor  of  the  province,  and  waft 
appointed  lientenant-colonel-commandant  of  the  British 
militia  for  the  defence  of  Quebec,  when  it  was  invested  by 
the  Americans  under  General  Montgomery.  He  distin- 
guished himself,  by  his  gallantry  and  skill,  in  defence  of 
the  fortress,  on  which  account  General  Carleton  sent  him 
home  with  the  important  news  of  the  entire  defeat  of  the 
enemy,  and  the  raising  of  the  siege ;  on  which  occasion 
be  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of  lieutenant-colonel  on  the 
day  of  his  arrival. 


CHARLES  CALDWELL, 

Brother  of  the  above  Henry  Caldwell,  was  first-lieute- 
nant of  the  Stirling  man-of-war,  when  she  was  ordered 
home  from  America,  upon  which  he  procured  himself  tO' 
be  removed  to  the  Trident,  that  he  might  assist  in  the 
reduction  of  Canada.  He  distinguished  himself  so  much 
in  debarking  the  troops  at  Port,  in  the  island  of  Orleans, 
that  General  Wolfe  took  him  into  his  family,  and  em- 
ployed him  as  a  marine  aid-de-camp  in  the  whole  cam- 
paign for  whatever  related  to  the  sea^ervice.  The  two 
brothers^  Henry  and  Charles,  led  on  each  of  them  a  party 
of  grenadiers  at  the  attack  of  Montmorency,  where  Charles 
was  wounded  in  the  leg  with  a  mnsket^ball.  He  recovered 
so  &r  as  to  be  able  to  attend  General  Wolfe  in  the  reduc- 
tion of  Quebec,  and  was  near  him  when  he  fell.  His 
superior  officers  bore  most  decided  testimony  of  his 
extraordinary  merit.  He  died  in  1776,  chiefly  through 
exerting  himself  beyond  his  strength,  in  raising  men  for 
the  navy. 


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S76 


ANDREW  CALDWELL, 
A  LiTBRART  character,  was  the  eldest  son  of  Charles 
Caldwell,  Esq.  an  emioeDt  solicitor,  and  was  bora  in  Dub- 
lin, in  the  year  1732.  He  receWed  part  of  his  education 
in  one  of  the  Scotch  uniTersities,  from  whence  he  remoTed 
to  London,  and  after  haying  resided  for  about  fire  years 
in  the  Tern  pie,  returaed  to  Dublin,  where  he  was  admitted 
to  the  bar  in  1760.  But  his  father  being  possessed  of  a 
good  estate,  fully  adequate  to  his  son's  wishes,  he  did  not 
prosecute  with  ^'  unremitting  ardour*^  the  dull  and  tedious 
study  of  the  law,  and  for  several  years  before  his  death, 
had  quitted  it  altogether.  His  literary  and  studious  dis- 
position, conjoined  with  his  taste  for  the  fine  arts,  always 
occupied  every  leisure  hour,  as  he  patronised  liberally  dl 
those  who  excelled  in  any  of  the  various  branches  of  art. 

Qe  had  made  architecture  the  qhief  object  of  his  study, 
and  about  the  year  1770,  published  anonymously,  some 
very  judicious  *^  Observations  on  the  PubKc  Buildings  of 
Dublin,"  and  on  some  edifices  which  at  that  period  were 
about  to  be  erected  in  that  city,  at  the  expense  of  the 
state.  The  only  other  known  production  of  his  pen  that 
has  been  published,  is  a  very  curious  '*  Account  of  the 
extraordinary  Escape  of  James  Stewart,  Esq.  (commonly 
called  Athenian  Stewart)  by  being  put  to  death  by  some 
Turks,  in  whose  compcmy  he  happened  to  be  travelling;'' 
the  substance  of  which  had  been  communicated  to  Mr, 
Caldwell  by  the  late  Dr.  Percy,  Bishop  of  Dromore,  as 
related  to  his  lordship  by  Stewart  himself.  Of  this  narm. 
tive>  of  which  only  a  snudl  number  was  printed  at  London 
in  1804,  for  the  use  of  the  author's  friends,  it  is  bdieved 
not  more  than  a  doxen  copies  were  distributed  in  thia 
country. 

Mr*  Caldwell's  literary  taste  naturally  led  him  to  collect 
a  large  library,  which  contained  many  rare  volumes,  and 
was  particularly  rich  io  botany  and  natural  history. 

He  died  at  the  house  of  his  nephew,  Major-Oeneral 


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CAHLOTON,  S17 

Cockboni,  near  Bray,  in  the  bounty  of  Wieklow,  on  the 
Snd  6f  Jply,  1808,  in  the  teventy-sizlfa  y«ir  of  his  ag«, 
after  an  illness  of  nearly  thvee  months  duration. 

His  mannen  were  gentle  and  pleasing,  and  as  his  bene* 
volence  and  other  virtnes  caused  him  to  be  generally 
respected  through  life,  so  his  urbanity,  rariety  of  know- 
ledge, and  cultivated  taste^  endeared  him  to  the  circle  in 
which  be  mo^ed. 


ANDREW  CANTWBLL, 

A  PHYSICIAN,  and  a  native  of  Tipperary,  resided  princi* 
pally  in  Paris,  where  he  took  bis  degree  of  doctor  in  medi- 
cine in  1742;  the  same  year  be  published  a  translation 
into  French,  of  the  account  of  Mrs.  Stephens'  medicine 
for  dissolving  the  stone  in  the  bladder;  and  in  1746,  an 
account  of  Sir  Hans  Sloane's  medicines  for  diseases  of  the 
eyes ;  also  some  severe  strictures  on  the  practice  of  pro* 
pagating  the  small-pox  by  inoculation ;  and  in  the  Philo- 
sophical Transactions,  London,  No.  4^5,  an  account  of  a 
double  child,  a  boy.    He  died  at  Paris,  July  11,  f764. 


Sm  GUY  CARLETON, 

Lord  Dorchbst£r,  was  descended  from  an  ancient 
'  family,  which  resided  many  years  at  Carleton,  in  Cumber- 
hind,  from  whence  they  removed  to  Ireland.  He  was  the 
third  son  of  Christopher  Carleton,  Esq.  of  Newry,  in  the 
county  of  Down,  who  died  in  Ireland  about  1738,  leaving 
a  widow,  who  became  the  third  wife  of  the  Reverend 
Thomas  Skelton,  and  died  in  1757.  Three  brothers  of  this 
illustrious  family  lost  their  lives  at  the  battle  of  M arston 
Moor,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  having  espoused  the 
loyal  cause. 

Sir  Guy,  the  subject  of  the  'pre^nt  memoir,  was  born  at 
Strabane,  in  the  county  of  Tyrone,  on  the  3rd  of  September, 
1724,  and  agreeable  to  the  wishes  of  his  parents,  was  early 
initiated  into  the  rudiments  of  the  military  sciences,  being 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


378  CARLETON. 

destined  for  the  army,  in  which  capacity  it  was  augbred, 
(firom  bis  great  personal  activity,  and  the  early  prooft  he 
gave  of  courage)  that  he  would  make  a  conspicuous 
figure ;  and  how  well  the  event  realised  their  most  sanguine 
expectations,  will  speedily  be  seen. 

While  very  young  he  entered  into  the  guards,  in  which 
corps  he  continued  until  the  year  1748,  when  he  was  pi^o- 
moted  to  the  rank  of  lieutenant-colonel  of  the  7dnd  regi- 
ment. At  this  period,  he  had  met  with  no  opportunity  of 
giving  an  example  of  his  merit,  but  upon  the  breaking  out  of 
the  seven  years  war,  his  abilities  were  put  to  an  honourable 
test*  In  1758  he  embarked  wi^  General  Amherst  for  the 
siege  of  Louisburg,  and  in  this  his  first  campaign,  he  gave 
such  eminent  proofs  of  his  skill  and  bravery,  as  entitled 
him  to  the  notice  of  the  commander-in-chief*  The  follow- 
ing year  he  gave  still  greater  proofs  of  his  courage,  and 
good  conduct,  at  the  siege  of  Quebec,  under  the  immortal 
General  Wolfe.  He  rendered  the  cause  some  effectual 
services  during  this  siege,  and  his  abilities  were  now  so 
conspicuous,  that  he  was  entrusted  with  the  achievement 
of  a  post  on  the  western  point  of  the  Isle  de  Orleans,  in 
which  he  was  eminently  successful*  He  now  began  to  be 
considered  as  an  able  ofiicer,  and  was  shortly  after  dis- 
patched to  dislodge  the  French  from  PoinUau-Trompe,  a 
distance  of  twenty  miles  from  Quebec,  where  the  enemy 
were  strongly  entrenched ;  in  this  expedition  he  also  suc- 
ceeded, and  forced  the  enemy  to  make  a  precipitate 
retreat.  He  took  a  considerable  part  in  this  difficult  and 
important  siege,  and  at  the  celebrated  battle  fought  in  the 
heights  of  Abraham,  when  the  gallant  Wolfe  fell  in  the 
moment  of  victory,  Carleton  displayed  a  wonderful  activity, 
prudence,  and  presence  of  mind  in  every  part  of  th^ 
arduous  duty  with  which  he  was  entrusted.  The  next  oppor- 
tunity he  had  for  displaying  his  valour,  was  at  the  siege  of 
Belleisle,  where  he  commanded  as  brigadier-general,  with 
which  rank  he  had  been  invested  on  the  spot,  and  it  was 
on  this  occasion  he  received  his  first  wound,  having 
exposed  himself  to  great  personal  danger  during  the  whole 


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CARLETON.  S79. 

^iege.  la  Febraary  1762^  he  was  promoted  to  the  raok  of 
colonel,  ia  which  capacity  he  embarked  with  the  Earl  of 
Albemarle  for  the  si^;e  of  the  Havannah,  where  he  wag 
likewise  distinguished  for  his  bravery,  and  was  wounded 
in  inresting  the  Mora  Castle- 
Soon  after  the  termination  of  this  campaign  a  peace  for 
some  time  interrupted  the  military  achievements  of  our 
colonel*  He  was  not,  however,  altogether  idle ;  for  when 
General  Murray  was  recalled  from  Quebec,  he  was  ap- 
pointed lieutenant-governor  of  that  important  place,  and 
at  length  promoted  to  the  government  thereof.  In  this  sta« 
tion  he  continued  some  years,  and  gave  entire  satisfaction, 
both  to  the  power  who  appointed  him,  and  to  the  provin- 
cials over  whom  he  presided.  In  April  1772,  he  was 
prcnnoted  to  the  rank  of.  major-general,  and  appomted 
colonel  of  the  forty-seventh  regiment  of  foot.  In  the 
course  of  this  year  he  married  Lady  Mary  Howard,  sister 
to  the  Earl  of  Effingham. 

In  1775  when  the  American  war  recommenced,  General 
Carleton  had  an  ample  field  for  the  display  of  his  military 
talents.  The  American  congress  having  resolved  to  resort 
to  arms,  began  soon  to  turn  their  eyes  to  Canada,  where 
they  knew  the  late  acts  were  very  unpopular,  not  only 
among  the  British  settlers,  but  the  French  Canadians 
themselves,  who  having  experienced  the  difference  be* 
tween  a  French  and  a  British  constitution,  gave  the  pre- 
ference to  the  latter.  To  co-operate  with  the  disaffected 
in  Canada,  and  to  anticipate  the  probable  and  suspected 
designs  of  General  Carleton,  the  congress  formed  the  bold 
and  hazardous  project  of  invading  that  province.  The 
success  of  the  scheme  depended  chiefly  on  the  celerity  of 
movement,  while  the  British  troops  were  cooped  up  in 
Boston,  and  before  reinforcements  could  arrive  from  Eng- 
land* In  August  1 776,  Schuyler  and  Montgomery  marched 
to  Lake  Champlaioy  which  they  crossed  in  flatrbottomed 
boats  to  St.  John's ;  but  Sdiuyler;  the  American  general, 
being  taken  ill,  the  command  devolved  upon  Montgomery, 


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380  CARLETQN. 

who,  being  an  officer  of  great  skill  and  ability,  detached 
the  Indiana  from  the  service  of  Greneral  Carleton ;  and 
having  received  some  reioforcements  of  artillery,  he  com- 
t>elled  the  fort  of  St.  John's  to  surrender  at  discretion  on 
the  2nd  of  November.  Hence  crossing  the  St,  Lawrence, 
he  proceeded  to  Montreal,  which  being incapableof  defence 
General  Carleton  wisely  evacuated,  and  retired  to  Quebec. 
Having  possessed  himself  of  Montreal,  Montgomery  made 
dispositions  for  advancing  to  besiege  the  capital  of  Ca^ 
nada,  and  there  were  sevei*al  circumstances  favourable  to 
his  hopes  of  success.  The  works  of  the  town  had  been 
neglected  for  a  long  time  of  peace ;  tbe  garrison  did  not 
exceed  eleven  hundred  men,  of  which  few  were  regulars^ 
and  the  majority  oC  the  inhabitants  ware  disaffected  to  the 
framers  of  their  new  constitution,  and  particularly  to  Gene- 
ral Carleton,  who  was  supposed  to  have  been  a  steady  sup- 
porter of  that  measure*  While  be  was  endeavouring  to 
defend  Quebec,  amidst  all  these  disadvantages^  the  Ame- 
rican generals,  Montgomery  and  Arnold,  summotted  bim 
to  surrender,  which  be  treated  with  contempt,  and  reAiaed 
to  hold  any  correspondence  with  rAels.  Tbe  inhafaitantB 
too,  displeased  as  they  were  with  their  new  conslilutioo, 
joined  the  British  troops  with  cordial  unanimity,  and  the 
American  commander  unprepared  for  a  r^ular  sie^ge^  eo- 
deavoored  to  take  the  plac^  by  storm.  In  this  attempt 
Montgomery  fell  bravely  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  whom 
the  garrison,  after  an  obstinate  resistance,  drove  from  tbe 
town  with  great  loss.  After  this  success,  General  Carleton 
shewed  that  his  humanity  was  equal  to  his  vMour,  for  he 
treated  all  tlie  prisoners  that  feU  into  his  hands  with  mild- 
ness, and  sofitened  the  rigours  of  their  captivity.  Uoder- 
staqding  that  a  number  of  sick  and  wounded. provioekds 
were  scattered  about  tbe  woods  and  villages,  he  isaaed  a 
proclamation,  qpd  appointed  proper  persoi^  to  disoover 
those  miserable  peo|de,  afford  tbem  relief  and  aasisUnce 
at  tlie|»ublio  expense,  and  aaswSe  them  that  on  their  reco- 
very they  should  have  leave  to  retwm  to  their  respective 


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CARLETON*  381 

• 

hbmes,  and  that  he  wbuld  not  take  the  advantage  of  their 
d^erted  and  distressed  situation  to  make  them  prisoners 
of  war. 

Arnold  encamped  on  the  heights  of  Abraham^  where  he 
fortified  himself,  and  continued  the  siege  of  Quebec  in  the 
following  year  (1776)  but  retired  from  thence  on  the 
arrival  of  ati  English  squadron. 

General  Carleton  being  now  reinforced  by  troops,  which, 
added  to  what  he  had,  formed  a  body  of  thirteen  thousand 
men,  prepared  fo^  offensive  operations,  and  the  Americans 
evacuated  their  conquests,  stationing  themselves  at  Crown 
Point,  whither  the  British  commander  did  not  follow  them  for 
the  present.  An  armament  was  now  prepared  for  crossing 
Lake  Champlain,  in  order  to  besiege  Crown  Point,  and 
Ticonderago.  The  Americans  had  a  cobsiderable  fleet 
on  Lake  Champlain,  whereas  the  British  had  not  a  single 
vessel.  The  general  therefore  u6ed  every  effort  to  procure 
the  requisite  naval  force,  bat  October  had  commenced 
before  he  was  ready  to  oppose  them.  On  the  1 1  th  Octo- 
ber, the  British  fleet  commanded  by  Captain  Pringle,  and 
under  the  direction  of  General  Carleton,  discovered  the 
armament  of  the  enemy  posted  to  defend  the  passage  be* 
tween  the  island  of  Valicour  and  the  Western  Main.  An 
engagement  commenced,  and  continued  on  both  sides  for 
several  hoars  with  great  intrepidity,  but  a  contrary  wind 
preventing  the  chief  British  ships  from  takiag  a  part,  and 
night  coming  on,  it  was  thought  prudent  to  discontinue 
the  adtion,  and  Arnold  took  advantage  of  the  night  to 
retreat. 

The  British  pursued  them  the  next  day,  and  the  day 
following,  and  the  wind  being  favourable  for  bringing  all 
the  ships  into  action,  overtook  them  a  few  leagues  firom 
Crown  Point.  The  American  commander  unable  to 
avoid  an  engagement,  made  the  best  disposition  which  his 
force  permitted.  About  noon  the  battle  began  and  con- 
tinned  with  great  fury  for  two  hours,  but  at  length  the 
superior  force  and  skill  of  the  British  prevailed.  General 
Carleton  remained  at  Crown  Point  till  drd  November,  and 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


382  CARLETON. 

as  the  winter  was  commeDcing,  he  did  not  think  it  advi- 
sable to  besiege  Ticonderago.  He  returned  therefore  to 
St.  John's,  whence  he  distributed  his  army  into  winter 
quarters. 

In  the  following  year,  1777,  an  expedition  being  planned 
from  Canada,  to  effect  a  co-operation  with  the  principal 
British  force,  the  command  of  the  armament  was  con- 
ferred  on  General  Burgoyne.  Sir  Guy  Carletoo,  (for  he  had 
been  created  a  knight  of  the  bath  in  July  1776)  from  his 
official  situation  in  Canada,  his  conduct,  and  especially 
his  defence  of  Quebec,  might  have  reasonably  expected 
diis  appointment;  he  was  an  older  general,  of  more  mili- 
tary experience,  and  from  his  official  situation  in  Canada, 
had  acquired  a  superior  knowledge  of  the  country,  its 
inhabitants  and  resources.  His  character  commanded 
greater  authority  than  Burgoyne's  had  hitherto  established ; 
and  as  no  military  grounds  could  be  alleged  for  super- 
seding Carleton  to  make  room  for  Burgoyne,  his  promo* 
tion  was  imputed  to  parliamentary  influence,  more  than  to 
his  official  talenU.  Carleton  disgusted  with  a  preference 
by  no  means  merited,  as  soon  as  he  heard  of  the  appoint- 
ment, resigned  his  government,  in  which  he  was  succeeded 
by  General  Haldinard ;  but  before  he  departed,  exerted 
himself  to  the  utmost  to  enable  Burgoyne  to  take  the  field 
with  advantage. 

On  his  arrival  in  England,  he  received  the  congratula- 
tions of  all  the  friends  of  his  country  for  his  very  able  and 
successful  defence  of  Quebec,  and  was  honoured  by  his 
majesty  with  a  red  ribbon,  as  a  mark  of  his  gracious  ap- 
probation of  his  conduct  and  services. 

In  August  1777y  Sir  Guy  was  made  a  lieutenant-general 
in  the  army,  and  in  1781,  was  appointed  to  succeed  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  as  commander-in-chief  in  America,  where 
he  remained  until  the  termination  of  the  contest,  when, 
after  an  interview  with  General  Washington,  in  which 
these  two  veterans  congratulated  each  other  on  arriving  at 
the  close  of  a  disastrous  war,  he  evacuated  New  York,  and 
returned  to  England. 


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CAROLAN.  383 

In  April  1786  he  was  once  more  appointed  governor  of 
Quebec,  Nova  Scotia,  and  New  Brunswick,  and  as  a 
reward  for  bis  long  services,  was  in  the  following  August 
raised  to  ibe  peerage  by  tbe  title  of  Lord  Dorchester  of 
Dorchester,  in  the  county  of  Oxford;  His  lordship  re- 
mained in  this  extensive  government  for  many  years; 
and  returned  at  length  to  England,  where  he  passed  his 
old  age  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  first  at  Kempshot,  near 
Basingstoke,  in  Hampshire,  and  afterwards  at  his  seat 
near  Maidenhead.  He  died  the  10th  November,  1808, 
at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty-five,  at  which  time  he  was 
colonel  of  the  fourth  regiment  of  dragoons,  and  a  general 
in  the  army. 

He  left  a  numerous  issue,  and  was  succeeded  in  title^ 
and  estate,  by  his  grandson,  Arthur  Henry  Carleton,  a 
minor. 


TURLOUGH  CAROLAN, 

Blind  and  untaught,  may  be  considered  as  a  musical 
phenomenon.  This  minstrel  bard,  sweet  as  impressive, 
will  long  claim  remembrance,  and  float  down  the  stream 
of  time,  whilst  harmony  has  power  to  charm.  He  was 
bom  in  the  year  1670,  in  the  village  of  Nodder,  in  the 
county  of  Westmeath,  on  the  lands  of  Carolans  town, 
which  were  wrested  from  his  ancestors  by  the  family  of 
the  Nugents,  on  their  arrival  in  this  kingdom,  with  King 
Henry  II.  His  father  was  a  poor  farmer,  the  humble  pro* 
prietor  of  a  few  acres,  which  afforded  him  a  scanty  sub^* 
sistence.  Of  his  mother  little  is  known,  probably  the 
daughter  of  a  neighbouring  peasant,  in  the  choice  of 
whom,  his  father  was  guided  rather  by  nature,  than  pru- 
dence. It  was  in  his  infancy  that  Carolan  was  deprived 
of  his  sight  by  the  small-pox.  This  deprivation  he  sup- 
ported with  cheerfulaess,  and  would  merrily  say,  /^  my 
eyes  are  transplanted  into  my  ears.''  His  musical  genius 
was  soon  discovered,  and  procured  him  many  friends,  who 


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SM  CAROLAN. 

detertnined  to  aid  its  cultiiratioQ,  and  a)t  the  dge  of  twelve 
a  proper  master  was  engaged^  to  tnstract  him  on  the  harp  $ 
hot  his  diligeDce  in  the  regular  modes  of  instruction  was 
not  great,  yet  bis  harp  was  rarely  unstmng^  for  his  intui- 
tire  genius  assisted  him  in  cdmpo^tion,  whilst  his  fingers 
wandered  amongst  the  strings,  in  quest  of  the  sweets  of 
melody.  In  a  few  years  this  ^*  child  of  song"  becaine 
enamoured  of  Miss  Bridget  Cruise.  His  harp,  now  inspired 
by  love,  Would  only  echo  to  the  sound  ;  though  this  lady 
did  not  give  him  her  hand,  it  is  imagined  she  did  not 
deny  him  her  heart,  but  like  Apollo,  when  he  caught  at 
the  nymph  ^'he  filled  his  arms  with  bays,"  and  the  song 
which  bears  her  name,  is  considered  his  chef-d^ceuvrcf  it 
oame  warm  from  his.  heart,  while  his  genius  was  in  its  fliU 
vigour. 

Our  bard,  however,  after  a  time,  solaced  himself  for  the 
loss  of  Miss  Cruise,  in  the  arms  of  Miss  Mary  Maguire, 
a  young  lady  of  good  family  in  the  county  of  Fermanagh. 
She  was  gifted  in  ix  small  degree  with  both  pride  and 
extravagance,  but  she  was  the  wife  of  his  choice,  beloved 
her  tenderly,  and  lived  harmoniously  with  hen  On  his 
entering  into  the  connnbial  state,  he  fixed  his  residence 
oh  a  small  fiirm  near  Moshill,  in  the  couhty  of  Leitrim; 
here  he  built  a  neat  little  house,  in  which  he  prao« 
tised  hospitality  on  a  scale  more  suited  to  his  mind 
than  to  his  meAns,  his  profusion  speedily  consumed  the 
produce  of  his  little  farm,  and  he  was  soon  left  to  lament 
the  want  of  prudence,  without  which  the  rich  cannot  taste 
of  pleasure  long,  or  the  poor  of  happiness^ 

At  length  Carolan  eoramehced  the  profession  of  aa 
itinerant  musician.  Whenever  he  went^  the  gates  of  the 
nobility  and  others,  were  tbrdwn  open  to  him ;  he  was  re» 
ceived  with  respect,  and  a  distinguished  pbure  assigned 
bim  at  the  uUe :  '^  Carolan/'  says  Mr.  Ritson,  *^  seems 
from  the  description  we  have  of  him  to  be  a  genuine 
representative  of  the  ancient  bard." 

It  was  during  bis  peregrinations  that  Carolan  composed 


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CAROLAN.  385 

all  those  airs  which  are  still  the  delight  of  his  countrymeti^ 
and  which  a  modem  bard  possessed  of  a  congenial  soul 
hath  so  elegantly  adorned. 

He  thobght  the  tribute  of  a  song  due  to  every  house  in 
which  he  was  entertained,  and  he  seldom  failed  to  pay  it, 
choosing  for  his  subject,  either  the  head  of  the  family,  or 
the  loYeliest  of  its  branches. 

Several  anecdotes  bordering  on  the  miraculous,  are 
recorded  of  Carolan,  and  amongst  others  the  following 
which  we  are  told,  was  '^  a  fact  well  ascertained." 

'^  The  fame  of  Carolan  having  reached  the  ears  of  an 
eminent  Italian  music-master  in  Dublin,  he  put  his  abilities 
to  a  severe  test,  and  the  issue  of  the  trial  confirmed  him, 
bow  well  founded  every  thing  had  been,  which  was  ad* 
vanced  in  favour  of  our  Irish  bard.  The  method  he  made 
use  of  was  as  follows :  he  singled  out  an  excellent  piece 
of  music^  and  highly  in  the  style  of  the  country  which 
gave  him  birth ;  here  and  there  he  either  altered  or  muti- 
lated the  piece,  but  in  such  a  manner,  as  that  no  one  but 
a  real  judge  could  make  a  discovery.  Carolan  bestowed 
the  deepest  attention  upon  the  performer  while  he  played 
it,  not  knowing,  however,  that  it  was  intended  as  a  trial  of 
his  skill;  and  that  the  critical  moment  was  at  hand,  which 
was  to  determine  his  reputation  for  ever.  He  declared 
it  was  an  admirable  piece  of  music,  but,  to  the  astonish- 
inent  of  all  present,  said,  very  humorously,  in  his  own 
language,  **la  seabr  chois  air  bacaighe/'  that  is,  here  and 
there  it  limps  and  stumbles*  He  was  prayed  to  rectiiy 
the  errors,  which  he  accordingly  did.  In  this  state  the 
piece  was  sent  from  Connaught  to  Dublin;  and  tbe  Italian 
no  sooner  saw  the  amendments  than  he  pronounced  Caro- 
lan to  be  a  true  musical  genius." 

The  period  now  approached  at  which  Carolan's  feelings 
were  to  receive  a  violent  shock.  In  the  year  1735,  the 
wife  of  his  bosom  was  torn  from  him  by  the  hand  of  death,, 
and  as  soon  as  tbe  transport  of  bis  grief  was  a  little  sub- 
sided, he  composed  a  monody  teeming  with  harmony  and 
poetic  beauties.    Carolan  did  not  continue  long  in  this 

VOL.  I.  c  c 


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Mfl  CAROLAN. 

vale  of  sorrow  after  the  decease  of  bia  wife.  While  on  m 
visit  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  M^Dermot,  of  Alderford,  ia  the 
county  of  Roscommon^  he  expired  in  the  month  of  March, 
1738,  in  the  sixty-eighth  year  of  hit  age,  and  was  interred  in 
the  p&ish-church  of  Killronan,  in  the  diocese  of  Avedagb, 
but "  not  a  stone  tells  where  he  lies." 

The  manner  of  his  death  has  been  Tariously  related ;  hut 
that  his  excessive  partiality  for  a  more  sparkling  stjfeam  than 
flows  at  Helicon,  was  the  cause  oi  his  decease,  is  a  point 
that  all  his  biographers  have  agreed  on.  Goldsmith  says 
'^  his  death  was  not  more  remarkable  than  his  life.  Homer 
was  never  more  fond  of  a  glass  than  he.  He  would  drink 
whole  pints  of  usquebaugh,  and,  as  he  used  to  think,  withont 
any  ill  consequence.  His  intemperance,  however,  ill  this 
respect,  at  length  brought  on  an  incurable  disorder,  and 
when  just  at  the  point  of  death,  he  called  for  a  cup  of  his 
beloved  liquor.  Those  who  were  standing  round  him, 
surprised  at  the  demand,  endeavoured  to  persuade  him  to 
the  contrary,  but  he  persisted ;  and  when  the  bowl  was 
brought  him,  attempted  to  drink  but  could  not,  whenefeTe 
giving  away  the  bowl,  he  observed  with  a  smile,  that  it 
would  be  hard  if  two  such  friends  as  he  and  the  cup  should 
part,  at  least  without  kissing,  and  then  expired.** 

Walker,  in  his  account  of  the  Irish  Bards,  inserts  a 
letter  which  states  that  **  Carolan,  at  an  early  period  of 
his  life,  contracted  a  fondness  for  spirituous  liquors,  which 
he  retained  even  to  the  last  stage  of  it.  But  inordinate 
gratiflcations  carry  their  punishments  along  with  them ; 
nor  was  Carolan  exempt  from  this  general  imposition. 
His  physicians  assured  him,  that,  unless  he  corrected  this 
vicious  habit,  a  scurvy,  which  was  the  consequence  of  his 
intemperance,  would  soon  put  an  end  to  his  mortal  career. 
He  obeyed  with  reluctance ;  and  seriously  resolved  upon 
never  tasting  that  forbidden,  though  (to  him)  delicious 
cup.  The  town  of  Boyle,  in  the  county  of  Roscommon, 
was  at  that  time  his  principal  place  of  residence ;  there, 
while  under  so  severe  a  regimen,  he  walked,  or  rather 
wandered  about  like  a  riveur.     His  usual  gaiety  forsook 


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CAROLAN.  387 

Irim;   DO  tallies  of  a  lively  imagiQation  escaped  him; 
every  moment  was  marked  with  a  dejection  of  spirits, 
approaching  to' the  deepest  melancholy ;  and  his  harp,  his 
favottrite  harp,  lay  in  some  obscnre  comer  of  his  habi- 
tation, neglected  and  unstrang.    Passing  one  day  by  a 
grocer's  riiop  in  the  town  (where  a  Mr.  Currifteene  at 
present  resides)  our  Irish  Orpheos,  after  a  six  week's 
quaraotiaey  was  tempted  to  step  in ;  undetermined  whether 
be  should  abide  by  his  late  resolution,  or  whether  lie 
•honM  yield  to  the  impulse  which  he  felt  at  the  moment* 
**  fFeil,  my  dear  firiendy"  cried  he  to  the  young  man  who  stood 
behind  the  compter,  ^^oti  see  Jam  a  mtmof  constancy ;  for 
six  long  weeks  I  have  refrained  from  whiskey.     Was  there 
efoer  so  great  an  instance  of  self-denial9    But  a  thought 
strikes  msy  and  surely  you  will  not  be  cruel  enough  to  refuse 
am  grai^ication  which  I  shall  earnestly  solicit.  Bring  hither 
a  measure  of  my  favourite  kguor,  which  I  shall  smell  tOy  but 
indeed  shall  noi  taste,**    The  lad  indulged  him  on  that  con- 
dition; and  no  sooner  did  the  fumes  ascend  to  his  brain, 
than  every  latent  spark  within  him  was  rekindled,  his 
fioontenance  glowed  with  an  unusual  brightness,  and  the 
soliloquy  which    be  repeated   over  the  cup,  was    the 
fusions  of  a  heart  newly  animated,  and  the  ramblings 
of  a  genius  which  a  Sterne  would  have  pursued  with  rap- 
tmnes  of  delight.  At  length,  to  the  great  peril  of  his  health, 
and  contrary  to  the  advice  of  his  medical  friends,  he  once 
more  quaffed  the  forbidden  draught,   and   renewed  the 
brimmer,  until  his  spirite  were  sufficiently  exhilarated, 
and  until  his  mind  had  fully  resumed  its  former  tone. 
He  immediately  set  about  composing  that  much-admired 
song  which  goes  by  the  name  of  Cardan's  (and  sometimes 
Stafford's)  Receipt.    For  sprightliness  of  sentifiient,  and 
harmony  of  numbers,  it  stands  unrivalled  in  the  list  of  our 
best  modern  drinking  songs,  as  our. nicest  critics  will 
readily  allow.     He  commenced  the  words,  and  began 
to  modulate  the  air,  in  the  evening  at  Boyle;  and,  before 
the  following  morning,  be  su9g  and  played  this  noble  off- 


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388  CARON. 

spriag  of  his  imagination  in  Mr.  StaflFord^s  parlour^  at 
Elfin." 

"Cardan's  inordinate  fondness/' says  Walker,'*  for  Iriab 
Wine  (as  Pierre  le  Grand  used  to  call  whiskey)  will  not 
admit  of  an  excuse ;  it  was  a  vice  of  habit»  and  might 
therefore  have  been  corrected.  But  let  me  say  sonietbiog 
in  extenuation.  He  seldom  drank  to  excess;  besides,  he 
seemed  to  think — nay,  was  cottomced  from  experience, 
that  the  spirit  of  Whiskey  was  grateful  to  his  muse,  and 
for  that  reason  generally  offered  it  when  he  intended  to 
invoke  her."  **  They  tell  me/'  says  Dr.  Campbell  in  his 
Survey  of  the  South  of  Ireland,  '*  that  in  his  (Carolan's) 
latter  days,  he  never  composed  without  the  inspiration  of 
whiskey,  of  which,  at  that  critical  hour,  be  always  took 
core  to  have  a  bottle  beside  him."  ^'  Nor  was  Carolan/' 
continues  Walker,  **  the  only  bard  who  dr^w  inspiration 
from  the  bottle;  there  have  been  several  planets  in  the  poe- 
tical hemisphere,  that  seldom  shone,  but  when  illuminated 
by  the  rays  of  rosy  wine."  He  then  proceeds  to  infer  the 
advantages  of  a  state  of  demi-drunkenness,  as  far  as  re- 
gards poetic  composition,  and  instances  Cunningham, 
Addison,  and  Homer,  as  three  authors  whose  works  bear 
ample  testimony  to  the  efficacy  of  so  pleasing  a  methbd 
of  procuring  inspiration.  That  Carolan  was  not  indiffe- 
rent to  advice  of  this  description,  has  been  sufficiently 
proved,  and  in  all  probability,  both  he  and  Mr.  Walker 
thought  true  talent  similar  to  those  richly  painted  vases 
in  the  east,  the  most  brilliant  tints  of  which  could  not  be 
discovered  unless  wine  were  poured  into  them  *. 


REDMOND  CARON. 
This  individual,  celebrated  both  for  learning  and  piety, 
was  descended  from  an  ancient  family  near  Athlone,  in  the 
county  of  Westmeath ;  at  which  place  he  was  born  about 
the  year  1605.  He  embraced  the  Franciscan  order  in  the 
*  Vide  Moore's  LaUa  Rookh. 


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CARON.  389 

poiivent  of  Athlone  when  be  was  only  sixteen  years  of 
age;  and  afterwards  studied  philosophy  in  a  monastery  of 
his  own  order  at  Drogheda,  under  the  tuition  of  Dr.  Alex- 
ander Flemming.  Several  years  after,  when  many  of  the 
convents  were  seized  by  the  iron  hand  of  government,  he 
quitted  Ireland,  and  retired  to  Saltsburgh  in  Germany; 
where,  uniting  intense  application  to  great  learning,  he 
devoted  the  whole  of  his  time  to  the  study  of  divinity,  in 
a  Franciscan  monastery ;  and  finished  bis  studies  at  Lou- 
vain,  in  Flanders,  under  the  instruction  and  direction  of 
Malachy  Fallow  and  Bonaventure  Delahoide,  two  eminent 
Irish  professors  in  divinity.  In  a  short  time  after  this 
period  he  possessed  the  chair  himself,  and  acquired  the 
reputation  of  an  able  and  learned  tbeologist.  Some  years 
after  he  was  sent  to  his  native  country  in  quality  of  com- 
missary-general of  the RecoUets,  all  over  Ireland;  where 
he  found  every  thing  in  a  state  of  grciat  confusion.  Be- 
ing at  Kilkenny  when  the  differences  and  disputes  ran 
high  between  the  loyal  catholics  and  the  party  of  Owen 
O'Neill,  he  sided  with  the  former ;  and,  in  an  attempt  to 
remove  from  that  city  one  Brenan  and  some  other  sedi- 
tious friars,  he  was  in  great  danger  of  losing  bis  life ;  and 
to  a  certainty  had  lost  it  in  the  tumult  raised  by  these 
friars,  had  not  the  Earl  of  Castlehaven  providentially 
arrived}  with  some  friends,  in  the  very  instant  of  time  to 
save  hinu    * 

When  the  forces,  sent  by  parliament  to  reduce  Ireland, 
had  landed,  and  were  proceeding  to  their  work  of  murder, 
flame,  and  desolation,  Caron  left  his  country,  and  con- 
tinued abroad  until  the  Restoration ;  at  which  period  he 
returned  to  England,  where  he  resided  till  within  a  few 
months  of  his  death.  Prior  to  which,  feeling  the  hand  of 
that  despotic  monarch  upon  him,  he  returned  once  more 
unto  the  land  of  his  birth;  and  died  in  Dublin,  some  time 
in  May  1666 ;  and  was  buried  in  St.  James's  church-yard 
in  that  city. 

He  was  esteemed  a  man  of  exemplary  piety  and  extra- 
ordinary learning,  and  of  upright  and  loyal   principles, 


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590  GARTER. 

which  raised  him  mtmj  enemtefl  among  bis  brethreti,  wtM>; 
by  their  coaniiances,  caused  the  censures  of  tbeir  cbnrcb 
to  fall  ifpon  biro.  He  was  remarkably  aealous  mpramotiDg 
the  affair  of  tbc  Irish  reraoDStraoce  of  their  loyalty ;  and 
wrote,  at  some  length,  in  defence  of  iu  A  complete  list 
of  his  writings  is  to  be  found  in  Ware's  Accomit  of  the 
Writers  of  Ireland. 


THOMAS  CARTER, 

An  eminent  musical  and  vocal  performer,  was  a  native  of 
Ireland,  but  left  that  country  at  a  very  early  age,  and  was 
pnatronrsed  by  the  Earl  of  Inchiquin.  After  visiting  various 
jcountries  for  the  better  perfecting  himself  in  the  intricacies 
of  his  art,  he  arrived  at  Naples,  where  he  was  much  noticed 
by  Sir  William  and  Lady  Hamihon.  Here  he  became 
celebrated  for  the  great  effect  with  which  he  sung  the 
beautiful  little  ballad  of  ''Sally  in  our  Alley.''  He  was 
also  celebrated  fdr  a  capriccio,  commencing  with  the  words 
''Fairest  Dorinda,"  in  which  he  united  all  the  elegancies 
of  musical  science,  with  the  most  humorous  comic  expres* 
sion.  In  Italy  he  finished  his  musical  studies,  but  where 
he  proceeded  to  next  we  are  not  informed.  He  visited 
''  the  clime  of  the  east,''  and  passed  some  time  in  India, 
where  he  conducted  the  musical  department  in  the  theatre 
at  Bengal;  bat  the  intense  heat  of  the  cKmate  so  greatly 
affected  the  health  ''of  this  child  of  song,"  that  he  was 
obliged  to  bid  adieu  to  a  clime,  "  where  every  voice 
is  melody,  and  every  breath  perfume,"  and  iy  to  Albion's 
genial  skies,  to  endeavour  to  regain  that  heahh  be  had  lost 
in  delighting  others. 
'In  1793  he  married  one  of  the  daughters  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Wells,  of  Cookham,  iu  Berkshire,  by  whom  he  bad 
two  children,  but  did  not  live  long  to  enjoy  the  pkasures 
of  a  domestic  life,  or  contribute  to  the  happiness  of  the 
circle  that  surrounded  him,  as  he  died  of  that  unrelenting 
disease,  a  liver  complaint,  (which  he  is  supposed  to  have 


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CAULFIELIX  591 

imbibed  on  India's  fullfry  shore)  on  tbe  8cb  of  November, 
iBOOy  being  tben  in  the  tbirtj^^econd  year  of  bb  age. 

He  was  a  distinguished  member  of  most  of  the  musical 
societies  in  this  metropolis,  and  was  justly  considered  hj 
tkmny  ^  as  the  choicest  fealber  of  tbeir  wing.'' 


,     WILLIAM  CAULFIELD, 

Saoown  Viscount  Charlemont,  was  a  brave  and  expe* 
rienced  soldier,  whp  patriotically  took  up  arms  in  defenee 
of  bis  reKgioo  and  conntry,  against  the  attacks  made  on 
both  by  King  James  XL  ai^d  during  the  contest  between 
•chat  monarch  and  King  William,  be  not  only  engaged 
himself,  but  his  brothers,  in  the  service  of  the  latter, 
whereupon  he  was  attainted,  and  his  estate  of  500/.  a-year, 
sequestrated  on  the  7th  of  May,  1689,  by  King" James's 
parliament.  But  after  the  reduction  of  the  kingdom,  King 
William  gave  him  a  regiment  of  foot^  made  him  governor 
and  CuHos  Ratubrum  of  the  counties  of  Tyrone  and 
ArnM^h,  and  governor  of  tbe  fort  of  Charlemont. 

On  the  5th  of  October,  l6g£,  he  took  his  seat  in  the 
bouse  of  peers,  and  in  l€D7,  the  peace  being  concluded, 
his  regiment  was  disbanded,  but  on  the  28th  of  June,  1701, 
be  was  again  made  cdone]  of  a  regiment  of  foot. 

In  1705  be  was  called  upon  to  serve  her  majesty  in 
Spain,  under  Charies,  Earl  of  Peterborough,  commander- 
in-*chief  of  her  Hmjesty's  forces.  King  Charles  III.  being 
besieged  by  tbe  French  in  his  city  of  Barcelona,  all  efforts 
^and  expedition  were  made  use  of  to  relieve  him,  and  at  the 
attack  of  the  breach  of  the  town  on  the  £4th  of  April, 
Lord  Charlemont  commanded  the  first  brigade,  and  forced 
an  entrance,  and  it  being  determined  on  the  26th  of 
August,  to  attack  the  citadel  of  Monjuicb,  which  appeared 
the  only  means  whereby  that  city  (in  a  short  space)  might 
be  brought  to  surrender,  Lord  Peterborough,  accompanied 
by  the  Prince  of  Hesse  Darmstadt  and  Lord  Charlemont, 
preseiited  himself  with  a  detachment,  before  it  on  the 
14th  of  Septenrbcr,  and  oammenced  the  assault,  during 


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SW  CAULFIELD. 

which  Lord  CharlemoDt  behaved  with  dittingaisbed  bm* 
very,  and  at  the  attack  of  the  fort,  fearlessly  marched  into 
the  works  at  the  head  of  his  men.  He  was  near  the  Prince 
of  Hesse  when  he  fell,  and  continued,  during  the  heat  of 
the  action,  to  perform  his  duty  with  great  coolness  and 
intrepidity.  When  the  aflfair  was  ended,  the  Earl  of 
Peterborough  presented  his  lordship  and  Colonel  South- 
well to  the  King  of  Spain,  as  two  officers  who  had  rendered 
his  majesty  signal  services,  for  which  they  received  his 
thankful  acknowledgments. 

The  taking  of  this  place  occasioned  the  surrender  of 
Barcelona  on  the  9th  of  October,  1705,  and  the  share  his 
lordship  had  in  this  memorable  action,  induced  her  majesty, 
on  the  25th  of  August,  to  promote  him  to  the  rank  of  a 
brigadier-general  of  her  armies;  and  on  the  22nd  of  April, 
1708,  to  advance  him  to  that  of  a  major-general,  calling 
him  into  her  privy  council,  and  appointing  him  governor 
of  the  counties  of  Tyrone  and  Armagh. 

In  1706  he  was  removed  from  his  regiment  by  the  Earl 
of  Peterborough.  In  May  1726,  he  was  sworn  of  the 
privy  council  to  King  George  I.  and  having  enjoyed  the 
peerage  upwards  of  fifty-five  years,  was  considered  the 
oldest  nobleman  in  his  majesty^s  kingdoms. 

He  died  on  the  21st  of  July,  1726,  and  was  buried  in  the 
vault  with  his  father  and  grandfather,  under  a  fine  monu- 
ment, which  he  had  erected  to  their  memories,  at  Armagh. 

He  was  married  on  the  11  th  of  July,  1678,  to  Anne, 
only  daughter  of  Doctor  James  Mengetson,  Archbishop 
of  Armagh,  and  by  her  (who  died  in  1729)  had  five  daugh- 
ters and  seven  sons,  the  second  of  whom  is  the  subject  of 
the  following  memoir. 


JAMES  CAULFIELD, 

£akl  of  Ch  arl£mont.  Thi§  nobleman,  one  of  the  most 
accomplished  persons  of  his  time,  and  as  amiable,  pa- 
uiotic,  and  truly  honest  man,  as  perhaps  ever  adorned  any 
age  or   country,   was  born  at  Dublin  on   the   18th    of 


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CAULFIELD.  ags 

Aogost^  1738.  Owing  to  the  delicacy  of  his  constitutioD, 
and  the  solidtude  of  bis  father  for  the  early  formation  of 
his  principles,  he  was  nerer  sent  to  any  public  school,  bos 
was  placed  under  three  preceptors :  the  first  of  whom  was 
a  respectable  clergyman,  named  Skelton:  another  was  a 
Reverend  Mr.  Barton,  eminent  for  moral  and  scholastic 
character;  and  the  last  (a  man  of  eminent  worth  and 
learning)  was  a  Mr.Murphy,  an  editor  of  Lucian,  whose  cha- 
racter and  abilities  were  so  congenial  to  the  views  of  Lord 
Caalfield,^  that  he  was  emfdoyed  to  undertake  the  education 
of  tlie  young  lord.  Under  his  instructions,  his  pupil 
redoubled  his  own  industry,  and  advanced  rapidly  in  his 
studies;  and  such  was  his  esteem  and  attachment  to  his 
preceptor,  that  he  afterwards  took  him  as  companion  on 
his  travds,  and  treated  him  through  life  with  generosity 
and  kindness. 

In  the  year  1746,  the  young  lord  having  finished  his 
classical  studies,  set  out  on  his  first  tour  to  the  continent 
of  Europe,  then  deemed  indispensable  to  finish  the  educa- 
•  tion  of  gentlemen  of  rank.  He  first  visited  Holland,  and 
was  present  during  the  revolutionary  tumult  which  ended 
in  the  establishment  of  the  Prince  ,of  Orange  as  Stadt- 
holder.  Then  he  proceeded  to  the  British  camp  in  Ger- 
many, where  he  was  politely  received  by  William,  Duke 
of  Cumberland,  commander-in-chief,  who,  not  only  during 
his  stay,  but  afterwards,  during  His  Royal  Highness'slife^ 
gave  him  signal  marks  of  esteem.  From  the  British  camp 
he  proceeded  to  Turin,  where  he  entered  the  academy,  and 
resided  a  year,  making  occasional  excursions  to  other 
parts  of  Italy.  At  the  academy  he  became  intimate  with 
his  illustrious  fellow-student,  the  young  Victor  Amadeus, 
Prince  Royal  of  Sardinia,  from  whom,  as  well  as  from  his 
illustrious  family,  he  received  the  most  gracious  attentions, 
and  enjoyed  the  opportunity  of  intercourse  with  many  of  the 
most  eminent  literary  and  political  characters  of  Europe, 
who  were  then  at  Turin ;  and,  amongst  others,  the  Marquis 
de  St.  Germain,  embassador  to  France,  the  Comte  Perron, 
and  David  Hume,  the  British  historian,  at  that  time  secre^ 


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SM  CAULFIBLD. 

tavy  to  Sir  John  SiDelatr,  the  British  pleaipotMtitry  mt  ih^ 
SardiiiiaB  coiirt.  From  Torin  be  proceeded  on  the  27tk 
of  Oetobtf,  1748)  (vi&  Bologna)  on  bb  way  to  Rome,  and 
tpeot  the  winter  between  that  capital  and  Naples*  la  the 
following  April,:  he  sailed  from  Leghorn  with  his  precept 
tor  Mr.Marphy,  Mr*  Dalton  his  draftsman,  and  two  other 
Iridi  gentlemen,  on  a  voyage  to  Constantinople*  On  the 
&h  of  May,  1749,  having  passed  the  'poetic  dangors 
of  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  as  they  approached  the  entrance 
of  the  beantifol  bay  of  Messina,  their  vessel  was  visited 
by  the  ofUcm^  of  health,  who  warned  theas  not  to  approacb 
the  city  withoat  due  examination,  lor  that  populous  and 
bcaatifnl  capital^  the  pride  of  Sicily,  had  been  recently 
wasted  with  a  dreadful  plague,  which  destroyed  the  greater 
pari  of  its  inhabitants.  The  infection  had  been  brought 
thither  by  a  Genoese  Tartan,  laden  with  wool,  bale  good% 
and  corn,  and  she  had  entered  the  port  undor  Neapolitan 
cokMirs,  but  had  ooase  direct  from  the  Morea,  where  the 
plague  bed  been  raging  for  some  time.  Her  captain 
pretended  he  had  come  from  Brindisi,  and  produced 
counterfeit  bills  of  health  as  from  that  port.  But  bis  own 
death  in  the  Lazaretto,  gave  the  first  alarm  of  that  pestileooe 
whieh afterwards  produced  such  hortors.  Lord  CharlcaioaC 
aud  his  party  were,  however,  permitted  to  land  at  some 
distance  osi  die  beach,  and  after  a  tedsoos  ordeal  ^  pre* 
cautionary  measures^  they  were  allowed  to  enter  the  city, 
lately  one  of  the  finest  in  the  world,^  aod  a  scene  of  gran- 
deur and  gaiety ;  but  now  reduced  to  the  most  lamentable 
contrast  of  its  fonner  state.  Use  streets  nearly  depopulated^ 
the  few  straggling  passengers  now  visible  were  aquidid 
firom  disease,  femine,  and  despair;  the  shops  every  where 
doflfcd ;  the  pavements  overgrown  with  grassland  a  dealhp 
like  silence  reigned  thixMigboi»t,  interrupted  only  at  inter^ 
vab  by  the  plaints  of  wretchedness.  Such  were  the  conae* 
qncnces  of  a  pestilence,,  e^al  perhi^  in  its  bcnws  to  that 
at  Athens,  described  by  Thucydides,  or  that  of  Floseoee^ 
jelated  by  Bocoacio« 

From  Messina  tbe  travellers  sailed  to  Maka,  where  they 


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CAULFIELD.  S96 

^yed  OQ  the  £Oth  of  J«iie  feUowiog ;  and  after  a  short 
$Uj,  proceeckd  to  ConatantiDople^  Tisitiog  in  their  way^ 
Smyroa,  Teoedos^  the  Dardan^esy  and  the  Troade,  in  M 
of  which  they  inspected  every  thing  interesting  to  clasaical 
curiosity.  During  his  stay  at  Constantinople^  Lord  Charle* 
oont  attained  bis  twenty-first  year,  which  he  commenio* 
rated  by  the  composition  of  an  elegant  Latin  ode,  id 
imitation  of  Horace's  *^  Ad  PoHhtme."*    Lib  ii«  jciy. 

It  was  addressed  to  hia  friend,  Mr.  Richard  Marlay, 
afterwards  Lord  Bishop  of  Waterfofd,  the  teamed  and 
admired  friend  and  companion  of  Burke,  Reynolds,  Jobo' 
son,  and  Malone,  aod  the  maternal  uncle  of  the  Right 
Honourable  Henry  Grattan. 

In  his  observations  on  every  thing  curious  in  Consta*-> 
tinople,  he  was  zealously  aided  by  Doctor  Mackeniie^ 
many  years  the  resident  physidan  to  the  English  embas- 
sador and  British  factory  there,  and  highly  esteemed,  by 
the  Turks  for  his  medical  skill. 

From  Constantinople,  after  a  stay  of  little  more  than  a 
month,  the  travdlers  proceeded  to  Egypt,  visitiog,  in  the 
eonrse  of  their  voyage,  the  Classic  Isles  of  Lesbos,  Chio^ 
Micone,  Delos,  and  Paros,  ft-om  the  last  of  which  they 
sailed  to  Alexandria,  and  travelled  thence  to  view  every 
relique  of  antiquity  worthy  of  curiosity  in  Egypt.  On  the 
2£Bd  of  October,  1749,  they  sailed  from  Alexandria,  intend* 
iog  to  visit  Cyprns,  in  tight  of  which  they  arrived,  bnt 
were  forced  by  pontrary  winds,  after  a  voyage  of  seven 
days,  to  anchor  at  Rhodes.  Whence  they  sailed  for 
Athens,  but  were  again  driven  by  uniavottrable  gales, 
upon  the  rocky  coast  of  Caria,  now  called  Carimania ;  and 
on  the  morning  of  the  9thof  November,  they  passed  the  pro- 
montory of  Doris,  on  the  south-east  side  of  the  Smm  Cenh 
tmcMy  now  Gulph  of  Stance:  here  they  landed  and  visited 
the  splendid  ruins  of  the  ancient  theatre  near  it,  then 
in  high  preservation;  all  of  white  marble,  190  feet  broad 
by   150  in  depth;    and   above  the  theatre   stood   the 


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396  CADLFIELD. 

remains  of  the  magaificent  temple  of  the  Cnidian  Veniis^ 
built  in  the  Corinthian  order^  of  the  purest  Parian  marble, 
and  which  Praxiteles  had  enriched  with  the  famous  statue 
of  the  goddess,  the  most  perfect  production  of  his  skill. 
These  precious  monuments  of  classic  architecture  afforded 
a  delightful  treat  to  the  travellers,  and  more  especially  to 
Lord  Charlemont,  whose  cultivated  taste  taught  him  to 
contemplate  them  with  ecstacy.  They  next  visited  the  Isle 
of  Cos,  and  thence  Bodromi,  and  the  splendid  ruins  of  the 
once  famous  Halicarnassus,  the  capital  of  Caria;  pro- 
ceeding thence  to  Cyntbus,  now  Thermia.  On  the  SSrd  of 
November  they  passed  Egina,  and  entered  the  Piraeus,  and 
the  following  morning,  with  the  permission  of  the  governor 
of  Attica,  proceeded  to  the  renowned  city  of  Athens.  On 
their  approach  to  this  celebrated  capital,  the  first  grand 
object  of  their  attention  was  the  temple  of  Theseus,  which 
alone,  in  the  opinion  of  Lord  Charlemont,  was  worth  the 
whole  voyage.  From  this  place  they  proceeded  to  the 
Morea,  Thebes,  Corinth,  and  the  ancient  Euboea;  and 
returned  to  Athens  on  the  14th  of  December,  1749. 

From  the  harbour  of  Aulis,  immortalised  by  the  genius 
of  Homer  and  the  muse  of  Euripides,  they  sailed  on  the 
20th  of  January,  1750.  On  their  voyage  to  Rhodes  and 
Malta,  they  encountered  a  tremendous  storm,  and  very 
narrowly  escaped  being  lost.  They  at  length  arrived  at 
Malta,  and  after  a  short  quarantine  of  twenty-three  days, 
were  allowed  to  land,  and  honoured  by  the  grand  master, 
Don  Emanuel  Pinto,  a  Portuguese  nobleman,  and  all  ^he 
knights,  with  the  most  courteous  and  hospitable  urbanity. 

From  Malta  Lord  C.  and  his  friends  returned  to  Italy, 
where  he  resumed  his  exertions  to  become  perfect  in  that 
language,  which  he  had  cultivated  with  assiduity,  and  his 
consummate  accuracy  in  which,  aided  by  the  polished 
elegance  of  his  mind  and  manners,  rendered  his  intercourse 
highly  accepuble  to  persons  of  the  first  rank  and  accom- 
plishments. At  Turin  he  renewed  his  intimacy  with  his 
former  fellow-stndent,  the  Prince  Royal  of  Sardinia,  then 
about  to  be  jnarried  to  a  princess  of  Spain,  and  the  pre<* 


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CAULFIELD.  397 

sence  of  our  noble  traveller  at  the  nuptials  was  particu- 
larly requested  by  the  prince;  who  afterwards  took  every 
occasion  to  evince  his  unaltered  esteem  for  Lord  Cbarle- 
mont. 

His  lordship  next  visited  Lucca,  Sienna,  and  other  places 
of  celebrity,  in  company  with  Lord  Aylesbury,  whom 
he  met  on  his  travels,  and  with  w'hom  he  afterwards  main^ 
tained  an  intimate  friendship  through  life.  AtVerona  he  ex- 
perienced a  marked  attention  from  the  Marchese  Scipione 
MafTei,  so  honourably  mentioned  by  Lady  M.  W.  Mon- 
tague,  and  he  cultivated  intimacy  with  the  literary  society 
who  used  to  assemble  at  Maffei's  palace,  and  with  almost 
every  other  erudite  society  in  the  principal  towns  of  Italy. 
At  Rome  he  continued  two  years,  and  was  one  of  the 
earliest  of  the  British  subjects,  who  kept  a  house  and 
establishment  there  for  the  reception  of  his  friends  *:  and 
here,  preceptor  Murphy,  the  lidus  Achates  of  his  travels, 
acted  as  his  major  domo  in  the  domestic  arrangements  of 
his  establishment.  The  noble  young  traveller  did  not 
confine  his.  attentions  or  expenditures  to  his  own  amuse- 
ments  and  pursuits,  but  was  a  kind  benefactor  to  several 
young  artists  then  pursuing  their  studies  at  Rome;  and 
especially  Mr.  William  Chambers,  whose  finances  and 
connections  were  much  limited.  His  lordship's  kindnesses 
to  him  at  that  period  were  gratefully  remembered  through 
life  by  that  eminent  man.  With  the  most  distinguished 
of  the  Roman  and  Neapolitan  nobles  then  at  Rome,  and 
all  the  English  of  worth  and  eminence  there.  Lord  Charle- 
mont  cultivated  intimacy  and  friendship,  and  afterwards 
corresponded  with  many  of  them.  Amongst  the  British 
whom  he  met  there  were  the  Lords  Cavendish,  and  the 
Marquis  of  Rockingham,  with  whom  he  contracted  the 
most  cordial  and  indissoluble  friendships,  and  the  same 
might  be  said  of  his  friendship  with  the  Due  de  Niver- 
nois,  and  the  venerable  PontifiT,  Benedict  XIV;  From 
Rome  his  lordship  returned  to  Turin,  and  spent  his  time 
between  that  city  and  Florence  till  the  end  of  July  1764^ 
when  he  proceeded  to  Spain  and  France,  and  amongst 


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9QS  CAULFIELD- 

other  etDiocnt  perioos  in  the  latter  ooontrj,  he  visited  the 
cdebrated  Baron  Montesquieu,  at  his  residence  near 
Bourdeaux,  by  whom  he  was  received  with  the  utmost 
urbanity,  and  in  whom  his  lordship  was  not  a  little  asto* 
nished  to  find  blended  the  learning,  talents,  and  profound 
jrfiiiosaphy  of  the  author  of  V Esprit  du  LoU  with  all  the 
agreeable  levity,  vivacity,  and  inexhaustible  chit^c/ud  of  a 
refined  petit^mattre  of  the  Parisian  circles,  although  then 
at  the  age  of  seventy.  His  lordship  also  renewed  his  inti- 
macy with  Monsieur  de  Nivemois,  St.  Palaye,  Helv6tiu8, 
the  Marquis  Mirabeau.  At  the  Count  D^Argenson's,  and 
the  Dukede  Biron's,  he  met  many  eminent  characters  both 
French  and  English. — In  1755,  after  an  absence  of  nine 
years,  he  returned  to  his  native  country,  for  which,  all  the 
attractions  of  foreign  travel  and  extensive  intercourse  with 
the  arts,  courts,  the  literature,  and  manners  of  the  most 
polished  nations  of  Europe,  never  abated  his  afiections ; 
nor  was  his  country,  durbg  his  absence,  unmindful  of  him 
in  whom  she  contemplated  one  of  her  future  and  best 
friends  and  ornaments.  His  return,  therefore,  was  gladly 
hailed  by  all  ranks ;  and  the  Lord  Chancellor  Jocelyn, 
eminent  for  his  discernment,  spoke  of  him  as  a  young 
nobleman  of  whom  his  country  had  reason  to  form  the 
highest  expectations. 

The  state  of  society  at  that  day  in  Ireland  had  but  few 
inducements  to  secure  the  constant  residence  of  a  youQg 
nobleman  just  returned  from  a  nine  years'  intercourse  with 
the  most  polished  nations,  splendid  courts,  and  eminent 
characters  of  Europe,  amongst  which  he  had  moved. 
Much  of  his  time,  therefore,  was  spent  amongst  hisiriends 
in  England.  His  zeal,  however,  to  promote  the  freedom 
and  prosperity  of  Ireland,  never  slept,  and  in  the  course 
of  some  years,  his  love  of  the  naiale  solum  superseded  all 
foreign  attachments,  and  induced  him  to  make  the  land  of 
bis  birth  that  <^f  his  constant  residence ;  although  at  the 
time  of  his  return,  and  long  afterwards,  it  was  the  prevail- 
ing fashion  with  the  Irish  nobility  and  principal  gentry, 
to  reside  in  France  or  England :  ^r,  it  mnsi  be  admitted, 


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GAULFIELD-  S» 

diat  Ir^hndi  id  those  days,  had  but  few  iadui^emeots  for 
the  Totaries  6f  refined  taste,  elegant  amnsement,  or  social 
tranqnillity.  The  history  of  the  men  and'measures  of  those 
days,  are  so  intimately  blended  with  the  life  of  Lord 
GharlemOQt,  that  it  will  be  impossible  to  detach  them 
from  the  thread  of  this  memoir ;  but  the  brevity  to  which 
onr  sketdi  is  necessarily  restrained,  will  oblige  ns  to 
exclude  all  collateral  detailsi  not  indispensable  to  our 
pnrpose. 

The  first  Occasion  we  find  to  notice  Lord  Charlemont  . 
as  a  prominent  figure  in  the  polUkal  canvass  in  Ireland, 
was  during  the  viceroyalty  of  the  Marquis  of  Hartington, 
son  of  the  then  Duke  of  DcTonshire;  a  nobleman  selected 
for  the  suavity  of  his  manners,  and  the  excellence  of  his 
character,  as  a  minister  well  calculated  to  calm  the  turbu** 
lence  which  then  prevailed  between  the  leading  partisans 
of  the  Irish  and  British  interests.  The  Lord  Primate 
Stone,  on  the  one  hand,  and  Mr.  Boyle  (afterwards  Lord 
Shannon)  on  the  other,  were  the  conflicting  candidates 
for  superiority.  Both  were  sustained  by  vigorous  parti- 
sans, and  Lord  Har  ting  ton  saw,  that  unless  conciliation 
could  be  effected,  the  purposes  of  his  mission  would  be 
fruitless. 

Lord  Charlemont,  then,  almost  a  stranger  in  his  own 
country,  and  wholly  unexperienced  in  the  manceuvres  of 
old  intriguing  statesmen,  was  induced,  at  the  request  of 
the  viceroy,  to  undertake  the  mediation ;  and  notwith- 
standing his  youth,  he  carried  the  point  by  the  influence 
of  his  candour  and  conciliating  manners.  His  own  prin- 
cipal object  was,  to  restore  tranquillity  to  his  country,  and 
to  effect  a  junction  of  both  chiefs,  in  aid  of  the  viceroy, 
whose  sole  purpose  was  public  utility,  and  the  establish- 
ment of  harmony  at  the  castle.  But  the  noble  young  me- 
diator never  suspected  an  underplot  which  was  proceeding 
at  the  same  time,  to  establish  as  a  secret  article  in  the 
treaty,  that  Mr.  Boyle  should  have  an  earldom  with  a 
pension'  of  SOOO/.  a-year,  for  thirty-one  years ;  and  Aat 
the  Primate  Stone,  after  a  little  time,  should  enjoy  his 


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400  CAULFIELD. 

due  share  of  power.  But  this  was  only  one  of  many  huiF- 
dred  instanceS|  which  proved  to  Lord  CharlemoDt's  subse- 
quent experience,  that  the  mask  of  patriotism  and  the 
zealous  display  of  violent  opposition^  are  too  often  the 
mere  disguise  of  self-interest  and  ambition.  But  whatevec 
claims  to  the  favour  of  the  viceroy  this  acceptable  service 
might  have  found  for  Lord  Charlemoot^  with  him  they  lay 
dormant ;  for  he  sought  no  favour ;  and  the  only  stipen- 
diary one  conferred  upon  his  family  or  connections,  was 
the  unsolicited  compliment  of  a  cornetcy  of  cavalry  to  his 
brother,  who  had  chosen  a  military  life* 

In  tlie  subsequent  viceroyalty  of  the  Duke  of  Bedford^ 
during  the  then  existing  war  with  France,  occurred  the 
descent  of  the  French  expedition  under  Thurot  and  Gene^ 
red  Flobert,  with  twelve  thousand  men,  upon  Carrick- 
fergus>  in  the  North  of  Ireland.  Lord  Charlemont  was 
then  governor  of  the' county  of  Armagh ;  and  on  the  first 
news  of  the  attack,  he  waited  on  the  viceroy  to  receive  his 
commands.  He  learned  that  Lord  Rothes,  the  commander- 
in-chief,  had  marched  with  competent  force  for  the  scene 
of  attack ;  and  that  the  viceroy  had  determined  to  follow* 
Lord  Charlemont  proceeded  forthwith  to  Bel&st,  where 
he  found,  that  the  peasantry  and  yeomanry  of  the  county, 
mostly  his  own  tenantry,  had  thronged  from  the  surround- 
ing country  to  meet  the  enemy,  with  vich  arms  as  they 
could  procure.  They  were  drawn  up  in  regular  bodies ; 
some  with  old  firelocks,  but  much  the  greater  number 
with  lochaber  axes,  of  which  they  were  ready  to  make 
a  desperate  use.  But  when  his  lordship  had  advanced  to 
Carrickfergus,  he  found  the  enemy,  having  made  but 
a  very  short  stay  in  the  town  which  they  possessed,  after 
a  smart  action  with  the  small  force  there,  had  fled :  for, 
observing  the  determined  spirit  of  the  country,  (hey  had 
reimbarked  their  troops,  and  only  waited  a  fair  wind  for 
their  escape ;  having  left  numbers  of  killed  and  wounded 
on  the  field,  and  amongst  the  latter.  Monsieur  Flobert,  their 
general,  and  many  of  his  oflBcers,  who,  by  the  active 
humanity  and  influence  of  Lord  Charlemont,  were  saved^ 


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CAULFIELD.  401 

from  tbe  fary  of  the  people,  and  afterwards  treated  with 
protection  and  generosity.  This  skirmish,  thengh  not 
Tery  important  in  a  military  point  of  view,  gave  to  Lord 
Charlemont  the  strongest  proof  of  the  spirit,  promptitude, 
and  bravery  of  his  countrymen  in  the  defence  of  their 
native  soil.  The  conduct  of  his  lordship  on  this  occasion, 
and  the  spirit  displayed  by  hiy  countrymen,  were  highly 
commended  in  the  viceroy's  dispatches  to  his  government 
in  England,  and  as  graciously  approved  by  the  reigning 
monarch,  Geo.  II.  'And  his  Grace  of  Bedford,  at  a  sub- 
sequent time,  upon  the  appointment  of  his  successor,  the 
Duke  of  Northumberland,  to  the  viceroyalty,  marked  his 
esteem  for  Lord  Charlemont,  by  strongly  recommending, 
that  an  earldom  should  be  offered  to  bis  lordship.  This 
was  tbe  more  generous,  as  Lord  Charlemont  had  warmly 
opposed  many  of  the  Duke  of  Bedford's  measures  in  par* 
liament. 

On  the  succession  of  his  present  majesty  to  the  throne, 
Lord  Halifax  was  appointed  to  the  viceroyalty  of  Ireland, 
and  Lord  Charlemont  being  then  in  London,  an  event 
occurred,  in  which  he  conceived  the  honour  of  his  coun- 
try, and  the  privileges  of  its  nobility,  were  materially 
affected. 

The  nuptials  of  the  young  king  with  her  late  majesty. 
Queen  Charlotte,  were  shortly  to  be  celebrated,  and  a 
number  of  Irish  peeresses  wete  then  in  town,  and  expected, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  to  have  the  honour  of  walking  in 
the  procession,  according  to  their  respective  ranks,  at  the 
august  solemnities.  But  before  even  the  queen  had  landed, 
the  Duchess  of  Bedford  had  received  orders  to  acquaint 
these  ladies, ''  thai  they  were  not  to  walk,  or  form  any  part 
m  the  ceremonial" 

Extremely  mortified  at  this  unexpected  vela,  exposing 
themselves  to  ridicule,  and  their  country  to  contempt, 
they  applied  to  Lord  Charlemont  for  his  interference,  to 
vindicate  the  honour  and  privileges  of  the  peerage  of  Ir&> 
land;  and  his  lordship,  ever  the  devoted  champion  of 
chivalry,  aud  the  honour  of  his  fair  countrywomen,  used 

VOL.  1.  D  D 


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402  CAULFIELD. 

his  exertions  with  such  effect^  that,  by  the  zealous  aid  of 
Lord  Middleton,  Lord  Halifax,  and  Lord  £gmont^  and 
(notwithstanding  the  warm  opposition  which  the  object  met 
in  the  privy-council,  called  an  purpose  to  adjust  the  matter, 
yet  who  came  to  no  decision)  he  ultimately  succeeded. 
And  his  majesty  was  graciously  pleased  to  forego  the 
indecision  of  his  council,  and  to  issue  bis  orders  for  th^ 
nobility  of  Ireland  to  take  their  places  in  the  ceremooial^ 
inamediately  after  those  of  England,  respectively  accord- 
ing to  rank. 

About  this  period  the  internal  state  of  Ireland  was  frie- 
quently  disturbed  by  the  insurrections  and  tumults  of  the 
peasantry ;  not  from  any  motive  connected  with  sedition 
against  the  government,  but  merely  from  the  extreme  dis- 
tresses  and  oppressions  under  which  the  common  people 
laboured,  from  a  variety  of  causes.  Amongst  others,  the 
severe  pressure  of  the  penal  laws  against  catholics  operat- 
ing on  four-fifths  of  the  whole  population  ;  the  exaction 
of  raclcrents  from  the  miserable  occupants  of  the  soil ;  the 
severe  exactions  of  tithes  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
high  church  clergy,  pressing  on  dissenters  as  well  its  catho- 
lics, to  maintain  a  priesthood,  from  whom  they  d^ved  no 
instruction  or  advantage,  besides  being  obliged  tk>  main- 
tain their  own  clergy  ;  the  heofoy  taxes  imi^osed  by  grand 
juries  {or  roads,  and  other  cdunij/  and  baronial  rates,  which, 
added  to  the  wretched  state,  of  agriculture  and  matiirfac- 
tures,  the  almost  total  depression  of  home  trade,  and  the 
•utter  preclusion  from  foreign  comnierce,  formed  a  constant 
and  prolific  source  of  irritation,  to  which  the  Only  legis- 
lative remedies  aplplied  were,  severe  laws  and  sanguinai^y 
punishments. 

In  1763,  one  of  those  insurrectionary  tumults  broke  out 
in  the  north  of  Ireland,  where  the  papulation  was  chiefly 
composed  of  dissenters.  The  insurgents  assumed  the 
appellation  of  oak-boys,  wore  oak-boughs  in  their  hats, 
threatening  destruction  to  all  abettors  of  the  tythe  system, 
the  rack-rent  landlords,,  and  prombters  of  road  as^ess- 
hients.     This  spirit  pervaded,  not  only,  the  courity  of 


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.   CAULFIELD.  403 

lAcm^h  where  Loiid  CbarleiBont  w«s  governor,  and  ao 
exAeoaive  laad-owoer,  but  also  Feroiaiiagh,  Derry,  and 
Tyrone.  Tbe  geatry  of  the  province  were  greatly  alarnaed 
aod  called  on  government  for  military  aid ;  and  proclama- 
tions wese  isaoedy  and  .military  execution  threatened.  But 
Loffd  Cbarkmoat,  at  the  request  of  tbe  government,  xe» 
paired  to  tbe  distmrbed  quarters,  and  hy  tbe  influeDce  of  his 
character,  and  conciliatory  persuasions,  aided  by  the  mo* 
derate  gentry  of  diose  counties,  in  a  short  timie,  waa  the 
prificipal  means  of  restoriDg  trauquillity  without  the  loas 
of  a  single  life.  On  his  loidsbip'sTejburn  to  the  metropolis, 
he  received  the  warmest  adoiowledgoienls  from  tbe  Duke 
of  Northumberland  tfor  this  «miDm>t  services  in  thi8>affair, 
and  was  informed  by  his  grace,  that  his  majesty  was, so 
highly  sensible  of  those  services,  as  to  desire  him  as  his 
lieutenant,  to  acquaint  his  lordship,  that  an  earldom  awaited 
his  acceptance.  To  this  honour,  his  lordship,  after  a  few 
days'  consideration,  bowed  assent;  but  on  the  express 
stipulation  that  the  advancement  of  his  rank  was  in^Do  way 
to  influence  his  parliamentary  conduct.  The  duke  assured 
his  lordship  that  'nothing  of  the  sort  was  ever  in  contem- 
plation ;  and  upon  this  condition,  the  eavldom  was  accepted. 
His  grace  only  added  a  wish  to  be  permitted,  as  an  old 
friend,  to  testify  hisipure  personal  respect  for  him,  in  any 
mode  he  should  be  pleased  to  point  out.  But  Lord  .Char- 
lemont  merely  requested  the  appointment  of  a  member  of 
the  linen  board,  as  his  estates  lay  in  the  linen  counties. 
The  appointment  had  no  emolument  attached,  and  it  was  . 
<}heerfully  promised  him  on  the  first  vacancy. 

His  lordship  proved  his  sincerity  in  the  conditieo,  on 
which. he  accepted  the  earldom  ;  for  while  his  patent  was 
passing  through  the  officesyhe  voted  against  the  address  of 
thanks  for  the  treaty  of  peace  then  recently  concluded, 
and  afterwards  entered  his  protest  against.it  in  the  lords' 
journals.  But  from  this  moment,  there  was  an  end  of 
court  favour  and  distinction  to  him,  nor  was  he  ever  nomi- 
nated to  the  seat  at  the  linen  board;  and  although  the 
then  Lord  Chancellor,  Bowes,  decidedly  objected  to  an 


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404  CAULFIELD. 

ientry  on  his  patent  of  peerage,  stating,  ^  that  it  was 
wholly  unsoUcUed,  and  the  spontaneous  grant  of  his  ma- 
jesty/* as  informal;  his  lordship  had  afterwards  added 
to  his  patent,  an  engrossed  testimonial,  specifying  the 
manner  in  which  it  was  granted,  lest  the  honour  of  his 
earldom  should  ever  be  stained  with  the  imputation  of 
motiTes  similar  to  those  which  afterwards  led  to  the  pro* 
fuse  creations  of  new  nobility. 

In  1764,  Lord  Charlemont  revisited  London,- and  was 
nominated  by  the  Dilletanti  Society  for  the  promotion  of 
literature  and  the  arts,  to  the  honour  of  their  chair,  for 
which  he  was  eminently  qualified  by  his  taste,  knowledge, 
and  zeal  for  their  success  ;  and  he  was  chiefly  instrumen- 
tal to  the  subsequent  mission  of  Dr.  Chandler,  the  cele- 
brated Athenian  Stewart,  Mr.  Revett  the  architect,  and 
Mr.  Pars  the  draftsman,  to  Greece,  and  some  parts  of 
the  East,  to  collect  information  on  the  ancient  state  of 
those  countries,  and  the  remaining  monuments  of  antiquity. 
The  society,  in  the  first  instance,  devoted  a  fund  of  QOOOL 
and  for  this  underuking  the  world  is  indebted  for  those 
subsequent  publications  at  the  expense  of  the  society, 
which  have  thrown  so  much  light  on  the  subject  of  classic 
iantiqu^ty. 

The  next  period  in  which  we  find  his  lordship  assume  a 
prominent  public  part  in  Ireland,  was  in  the  viceroyalty 
of  Lord  Townshend;  a  nobleman  selected  for  the  convi- 
viality of  his  disposition,  and  frankness  of  his  manner,  as 
well  adapted  to  conciliate  supporters  to  his  government  in  . 
Ireland.  But  his  parliamentary  measures  met  strenuous 
opposition.  In  those  contests,  it  was  Lord  Charlemont's 
fortune  to  act  with  the  minority.  But  the  government 
of  Lord  Townshend  will  be  remembered  as  the  epoch  which 
first  unlocked  the  energies  of  that  country,  by  the  passing 
of  the  octennial  bill  for  limiting  the  duration  of  parlia- 
ments, which,  heretofore,  was  co-extensive  with  the  lives 
of  the  members,  and  only  limited  otherwise  by  the  chance 
of  dissolution,  or  the  demise  of  the  crown.  This  measure 
bad  been  long  earnestly  called  for  by  the  voice  of  the 


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CAULFIELD.  405 

country;  and  though  heads  of  a  bill  for  the  purpose  had 
twice  passed  the  houses  of  pari iament,  even  with  the  simu- 
lated support  of  those  who  were^  at  bottom,  the  most 
decided  enemies  of  the  measure,  because  they  were  confi- 
dent it  would  be  stifled  in  the  privy  council,  through  which 
it  must  pass,  before  it  could  be  transmitted  to  England ;  the 
British  cabinet,  at  length  vexed  by  this  duplicity,  through 
which  the  whole  odium  of  rejecting  so  popular  a  measure 
was  thrown  upon  the  government,  sanctioned  the  bill,  and 
returned  it  confirmed,  with  orders  to  dissolve  the  parliament' 
at  the  close  of  the  session.  But  it  was  considered  at  the 
time,  perhaps  truly,  to  have  been  adopted  by  the  British 
cabinet,  as  a  measure  of  experiment  to  break  down  the 
phalanx  of  Irish  aristocracy,  who  controlled  the  parlia- 
mentary influence  of  the  crown,  at  their  own  discretion. 
The  first  public  writer  in  suggesting  this  measure,  was 
Doctor  Charles  Lucas,  the  friend  and  physician  of  Lord 
Charlemont;  whose  able  advocacy  excited  the  exertions 
of  other  spirited  writers,  and  finally  the  voice  of  the  whole 
country,  whose  object  was  ultimately  successful :  an  in- 
stance (as  Lord  Charlemont  was  wont  to  observe)  that 
should  stimulate  the  exertions  of  every  true  patriot,  and 
teach  him  to  cherish,  as  an  infallible  maxim,  **  that  every 
measure,  intrinsically  j  ust  and  good,  will  finally  be  carried 
by  virtuous  and  steady  perseverance." — A  maxim,  which 
he  solemnly  recommended  to  his  children  after  him,  adding, 
that  *'  although  the  first  advocate  of  a  good  measure  might 
not  live  to  witness  its  success,  yet  he  may  lay  the  foun- 
dation of  that  success  for  his  survivors :  and  that  the  man 
who  lays  the  first  stpne  of  the  temple  of  liberty,  deserves 
as  much,  and  perhaps  more,  credit  with  posterity,  than 
he  who  lives  to  complete  the  edifice." 

In  the  year  1768,  Lord  Charlemont  married  Miss  Hick- 
man, daughter  of  Robert  Hickman,  Esq.  of  the  county  of 
Cilare;  a  lady,  whose  mind  and  accomplishments  were 
perfectly  congenial  with  his  own,  and  eminently  contri- 
buted to  his  subsequent  happiness  through  life. 

The  dissolution  of  the  old  parliament,  in  consequence  of 


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406  CAULFIELD. 

the  octennial  bill,  created  a  marked  change  in  the  ener^ 
gies  of  the  country,  and  introduced  a  succession  of  new 
and  splendid  characters  on  the  senatorial  stage ;  and  the 
administration  of  Lord  Townshend  became  in  consequence, 
a  perpetual  scene  of  arduous  contest.  At  no  one  period 
of  Irish  history,  did  there  appear  so  numerous  a  host  of 
able  men,  or  a  more  brilliant  display  of  talents  and  elo- 
quence in  the  parliament.  The  country  began  to  rouse, 
as  it  were,  from  a  political  lethargy.  The  limitation  of 
eight  years  to  existence  of  parliament  on  the  one  hand, 
taught  the  representative  body  to  feel,  a  little,  their  depen- 
dence on  popular  sentiment ;  and  the  people,  on  the  other, 
to  hope  that  the  talents  of  their  honest  gentry  would  have 
a  fair  chance  of  being  more  generally  exerted  in  their 
cause;  while  the  great  boroUgh-owners  looked  to  the 
lucrative  expedient  which  would  recur  to  them  on  the 
demise  of  every  parliament,  of  turning  their  influence  with 
advantage  to  their  political  or  pecuniary  account.  This 
measure  also  sowed  the  first  germ  of  a  future  system, 
little,  if  at  all,  contemplated  at  the  moment;  namely,  the 
extension  of  the  elective  franchise  to  the  catholics,  who, 
for  a  scries  of  years  before  and  after,  were  wholly  excluded 
that  privilege,  their  subsequent  attainment  of  which,  was 
at  least  as  much  owing  to  the  electioneering  views,  as  to 
the  liberality  of  parliamentary  leaders. 

Amongst  the  leading  characters  eminent  in  the  political 
contests  of  the  day,  were,  in  the  upper  house,  Simon,  Earl 
of  Carhampton,  and  Charles  Coote,  Earl  of  Bellamont; 
John  Scott,  a  brirrister,  afterwards  Earl  of  Clonmell  and 
chief  justice;  Walter  Hussey  Burgh,  afterwards  chief  baron 
of  the  exchequer;  Sir  William  Osborne;  the  celebrated 
Henry  Flood;  John  Hely  Hutchinson,  afterwards  secre- 
tary of  state,  and  provost  of  Trinity  College ;  and  Detmis 
Daly,  member  for  Qalway. 

Lord  Charlemont  thought  it  his  duty  to  his  country 
uniformly  to  act  with  the  opposition,  although  he  fre- 
quently viewed  with  regret  the  revolt  of  some  of  his  ablest 
friends,  whose  patriotic  fortitude  could  not  withstand  the 


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CAULFIELD.  407 

temptation  of  office  and  emolument.  The  octennial  bill 
was  the  only  measure  as  yet  conceded  by  the  British 
cabinet  to  the  wishes  of  the  Irish  nation ;  bin  the  com- 
plaints of  the  country  were  now  directed  to  other  griev- 
ance^y  which,  so  long  as  they  continued,  were  considered 
^  insurmountable  impediments  to  the  honour,  indepen- 
dence, and  prosperity  of  the  nation.  These  grievances 
were,r— 15/,  the  claims  of  the  British  parliament  to  the 
right  of  passing  laws  to  bind  Ireland;  thus  superseding 
the  aat|;iority  of  her  own  legislature.  2d^,  The  ruinous 
restraints  upon  her  commerce,  which  debarred  her  from  all 
direct  ttade  with  the  British  colonies,  and  all  share  in 
the  privileges  of  British  subjecu  under  the  navigation 
act,  and  reduced  her  population  to  misery.  And,  Srdfyf 
the  necessity  of  transmitting  all  bills  passed  by  the  two 
houses  of  the  Irish  parliament  through  the  medium  of 
the  lord-lieutenant  and  privy  council,  in  whom  was  vested 
the  power  of  cmhiomng  such  bills  (as  the  phrase  was)  t.  e. 
stifling  them  in  transitu ;  and,  if  they  survived  that  ordeal, 
they  were  afterwards  subject  to  mutilation,  and  even 
death,  in  the  privy  council  of  England.  It  was  utterly 
in  vain  fox  Ireland  to  hope  for  any  measure  of  amelio- 
ration, political  or  commercial,  under  such  control,  which 
was  supposed  in  any  degree  to  interfere  with  British  in- 
terests. 

These  were  the  prominent  features  of  political  evils, 
which  the  patriots  of  that  day  considered  as  the  sole 
source  of  degradation  and  debasement  to  their  country. 
The  removal  of  which  might  lead  to  the  future  miti- 
gation of  minor  mischiefs;  but,  practically,  those  very 
minor  mischief  were  the  heaviest  grievances  under  which 
the  country  internally  sufliered ;  namely,  the  divisions  of 
the  people  into  sectarious  classes,  cherishing  mutual  ran- 
cour and  hostility  to-each  other;  and  the  intolerable  yoke 
of  the  penal  laws  against  cathoUcs,  which  weighed  down 
four-fifths  of  the  population  to  a  state  of  debasement  and 
vassalage  Uitle  better  than  that  of  the  boors  of  Russia,  or 
of  other  despotic  governments  pf  the  north.  This  system. 


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408  CAULFIELD. 

otiginfttiDg  in  the  prejudice  and  hostility  of  the  Eoglnb 
settlers  in  that  country  under  successive  reigns^  who  pos- 
sessed the  confiscated  estates  of  the  old  rebellious  chiefs, 
(many  of  them  of  English  descent,)  who  resisted  English 
ddmination ;  and  more  especially  the  followers  of  Crom- 
well and  William  III.  who,  having  obtained  the  ruling 
power^  seemed  determined  to  wreak  interminable  ven- 
geance on  the  devoted  Irish,  foritheir,  perhaps,  mistaken, 
but  certainly  most  unfortunate  loyalty  to  their  British 
monarchs,  Chablrs  I.  and  his  son  James  IL  The  vic- 
torious party  thought  they  had  no  security  for  their  new 
possessions  in  Ireland,  even  under  the  protection  of  British 
power,  so  long  as  a  vestige  of  liberty,  of  property,  or  of 
influence  remained  with  the  catholics,  who  formed  four- 
fifths  of  the  population ;  and  hence  they  formed  a  system 
of  laws  against  that  sect,  calculated  not  merely  to  subju- 
gate, but  t6  brutalise  them, — a  system  which  a  protestant 
legislator  and  eminent  lawyer  and  statesman,  shortly  be- 
fore this  period,  in  his  endeavours  to  mitigate  those  laws, 
said, — **  They  were  a  disgrace  to  the  statute  books  of  an 
enlightened  nation ;  and  so  odious  in  their  principles,  that 
one  might  think  they  were  passed  in  hell,  and  that  demons 
were  the  legislators/'  And,  in  fact,  if  the  catholics  of 
Ireland  did  not  become  the  most  ignorant,  stupid,  and 
ferocious  savages,  it  is  by  no  means  attributable  to  the 
spirit  and  letter  of  those  statutes,  so  emmently  calculated 
to  render  them  such. 

The  octennial  bill,  which  was  balm  to  the  political 
wounds  of  the  privileged  sect,  was  a  new  source  of  bitter 
oppression  to  the  degraded  one.  Every  new  election  gave 
rise  to  new  contests  in  every  county ;  and  every  candidate 
sought  to  increase  the  numbers  of  his  elective  force.  A 
freehold,  or  profit  rent,  of  forty  shillings  a  year  for  thirty- 
one  years,  constituted  every  protestant  an  elector;  and 
the  result  was,  that  every  eighth  year,  the  catholic,  whose 
farm  had  been  cultivated  for  thirty  preceding  years  by  the 
labours  of  himself  and  his  children,  was  turned  out  of 
possession,  with  his  family,  to  beg,  if  they  chose,  in  order 


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CAULFIELD.  409 

to  make  room  for  a  manufacture  of  at  many  protestant 
freeholds  as  bis  land  could  admit.  Not  only  the  candi- 
dates, bat  tbeir  friends  and  relatiTes  bad  recourse  to  tbe 
same  expedient;  and  the  system,  in  progress,  was  further 
improved  by  shortening  the  term  of  thirty-one  years 
leases  to  tbe  catholic  down  to  twelve  or  eight,  so  as  to 
terminate  about  the  jye  of  a  general  election,-— a  cere- 
mony in  which  tbe  catholic  had  no  share,  except  tbe 
honour  of  bearing  a  part  with  his  cudgel,  to  support  the 
cause  of  his  landlord,  or  his  friends,  who  happened  to  be 
candidates  or  partisans,  in  those  ferocious  conflicts  uni- 
formly prevalent  in  contests  for  representation. 

The  dissenters,  principally  inhabiting  tbe  north,  although 
exempt  from  the  severities  sustained  by  the  catholics, 
were  not  without  some  share  of  legal  disability.  For, 
although  the  kirk  was  viewed  as  a  half-sister  of  the  high 
church,  still  her  children  were  not  regarded  without  some 
share  of  jealousy.  Their  Scottish  descent  rendered  them 
in  view  of  some  orthodox  zealots,  as  hereditary  friends 
to  the  house  of  Stewart,  while  by  others  they  were  sus- 
pected, partly  as  descendants  of  the  Cromwelian  school, 
and  tinctured  with  the  principles  of  tbe  puritans  in  the 
days  of  the  first  Charles,  and  partly  as  secret  adherents  of 
the  house  of  Stewart: — and  all  together,  a  sort  of  mules 
between  Republicans  and  Jacobites.  They  were,  however, 
by  no  means  cordial  to  the  ascendancy  of  the  dominating 
sect,  for,  in  common  with  the  catholics,  they  were  heavily 
assessed  by  ty  thes  for  the  support  of  the  high  church,  from 
whose  ministry  they  derived  no  advantage;  while  they  had 
a  ministry  of  their  own  to  support:  and  although  they 
were  eligible  to  affairs  under  the  state,  their  admission 
was  barred  by  sect  oatbs,  and  religious  compliances  with 
high  church  discipline;  that  the  boon  was  a  bitter  pill  to 
the  presbyters  of  the  old  school :  but  then  they  cordially 
bated  the  pope  and  the  pa(Nsts,  and  to  this  saving  principle 
they  ultimately  owed  the  indulgence  of  a  bill,  passed  from 
year  to  year,  dispensing  with  those  compliances,  and 
allowing  further  time  to  qualify.     Thus  they  enjoyed,  as 


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410  CAULFIELD. 

yearly  teoants,  privileges  which  served  ta  keep  them 
in  good  humour^  but  which  might  be  abrogated  at  the 
discretion  of  parliament,  so  that  proscription  was  still 
•  suspended  over  their  heads,  like  the  sword  of  Dionysius, 
quamdHu  se  bene  gesservU^  i.  e.  during  good  behaviour. 
But  the  mutual  religious  antipathy  between  them  and  the 
catholics,  who  viewed  them  as  enemies  of  a  deeper  blue 
than  the  high  church,  wais  a  clencher  for  the  system  of 
divide  et  impera. 

To  the  system  of  the  penal  laws,  although  many  liberal 
and  enlightened  men  in  and  out  of  parliament  were  long 
hostile,  yet  the  great  majority  of  the  protestants  retained  the 
prejudices  absorbed  with  their  mother's  milk.  Lord  Char- 
lemont  himself,  even  with  all  his  education,  liberality,  and 
travelled  experience  in  other  countries,  was  never  friendly 
to  a  total,  and  certainly  not  to  a  rapid,  abrogation  of  the 
system,  although  his  most  intimate  and  confidential  friends 
were  the  strenuous  advocates  for  the  tot^l  abolition.  But 
even  the  catholics,  from  the  knowledge  of  his  character, 
respected  his  prejudices,  and  considered  him  a  zealous 
and  conscientious  friend  to  his  country.  But  though  he 
resisted  every  motion  of  influence  or  aggrandisement  to  the 
wealthier  catholic,  he  was  desirous  to  alleviate  the  suffer*- 
ings  of  the'  peasantry;  and,  in  1768,  he  had  brought  a  bill 
into  the  house  of  lords,  to  enable  the  poor  labourer  to 
take  a  lease  for  ninety  years  of  so  much  ground  as  might 
serve  him  for  a  cottage  and  potatoe  garden: — which, 
however,  was  then  rejected.  This  measure  was  frequently 
moved  in  the  commons,  and  as  often  failed.  In  177S  he 
tried  it  again  in  the  lords,  and  during  some  thin  atten- 
dances, succeeded  as  far  as  the  second  reading  and  com- 
mittal : — but,  to  use  his  lordship's  own  language,  '^  the 
trumpet  of  bigotry  had  sounded  the  alarm;  to  give  the 
wretched  cottager  a  permanent  interest  in  his  miserable 
habitation  was  said  to  be  an  ii^frjngement  on  the  penal 
code,  which  threatened  the  destruction  of  church  and 
state !  A  cry  was  raised  that  the  proteSjtapt  interest  was  in 
danger.  The  lords  were  summoned^  the  house  was  crouded 


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CAULFIELD.      *  411 

with  the  zealoits  supporters  of  orthodoxy  and  oppressioo^ 
and  I  was  Toted  out  of  the  chair,  not  wholly  unsuspected 
6f  being  little  better  than  a  papist/' 

The  war  in  which  England  was  engaged  with  her  Ame* 
rican  colonies  ultimately  involved  her  in  a  war  with  France^ 
and  Spain,  who,  at  first  covertly,  and  at  last  openly  espoused 
the  cause  of  the  colonists;  and  while  England  and  Ireland 
were  drained  of  their  troops  to  carry  on  the  inefTectnai 
struggle  with  the  colonies,  the  European  seas  swarmed 
with  American  and  French  privateers,  and  the  squadrons 
of  France  not  only  swept  the  British  seas,  but  hovered  on 
our  coasts,  and  menaced  our  fleets  in  the  very  mouths  of 
their  own  harbours.  The  invasion  of  Ireland  was  deemed 
by  France  a  favourable  diversion  in  support  of  America,  to 
distract  the  attention  of  England,  and  oblige  her  to  keep  her 
troops  at  home  for  the  defence  of  her  domestic  territories; 
and  the  project  was  actually  set  on  foot  for  the  invasion 
of  Ireland,  where  the  whole  force  of  the  line,  left  there, 
after  drafts  and  selections  for  American  service,  consisted 
of  about  five  hundred  men.  The  people  of  Belfast,  mind- 
ful of  the  danger  their  town  had  risked  eighteen  years 
before,  in  the  former  reign,  from  the  descent  of  Thurot,  and 
conceiving  the  present  a  much  more  formidable  and 
alarming  crisis,  applied  to  the  government  for  a  force  for 
their  protection  and  that  of  their  province.  But  their 
application  was  plainly  and  candidly  answered  by  Sir 
Richard  Heron,  secretary  to  the  then  lord-lieutenanti 
Lord  Buckinghamshire,  "that  government  could  afford 
them  none.** 

This  answer  raised  alarm  throughout  the  whole  <xiuntry, 
and,  by  degrees,  roused  the  whole  nation  to  a  sense  of  the 
pressing' necessity  of  arming  for  self-defence  against  the 
common  danger;  and  this  was  the  first  germ  of  that 
volunteer  army  which  occupies  so  prominent  a  place 
in  the  modem  history  of  Ireland.  It  is  not  our  purpose 
to  detail  minutely  its  growth  and  progress  to  matarity. 
Government  had  plainly  abdicated  the  national  defco^. 
The  people  volunteered,  and  armed,  and  arrayed,  at  their 


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412  CAULFIELD. 

own  expense,  for  their  own  security.  They  chose  their 
own  officers,  were  self^clothed,  armed,  disciplined,  and 
sustained ;  and  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  two  amounted  to 
a  force  of  eighty  thousand. 

Of  the  regiment  formed  by  the  town  of  Armagh,  Lord 
Charlemont  was  chosen  to  the  command,  as  were  the  prin- 
cipal noblemen  and  gentlemen  in  other  districts  to  the 
local  corps.  The  jealousy  against  the  catholics,  who  by  law 
were  debarred  the  use  of  arms,  precluded  their  admission 
to  join  these  corps  for  some  time ;  but  a  patriotic  ardour 
for  the  common  safety  of  the  country,  consumed  for  a  time 
all  sectarious  prejudices,  and  fixed  the  whole  national 
mind  into  one  compound,  like  Corinthian  brass.  The 
government  did  not  view,  without  astonishment  and  regret, 
this  unexpected  combination  and  formidable  array,  the 
effects  of  its  own  work,  and  more  remotely,  of  its  prede- 
cessors and  of  England ;  by  whose  policy  there  had  been 
but  too  many  dragon's  teeth  planted  in  the  soil  for  a  cen- 
tury, which  there  was  some  reason  to  apprehend  would, 
on  the  first  favourable  occasion,  spring  up  to  armed  men. 
If  it  were  now  even  possible,  they  felt  it  would  be  highly 
rash  and  impolitic  to  attempt  the  disarray  of  the  volunteers; 
and  the  humiliations  which  the  British  arms  had  felt  from 
their  ineffectual  conflicts  in  America,  taught  the  govern- 
ment rather  to  dissemble  their  antipathies,  and  learn  to 
cherish  the  only  force  which  could  protect  the  country 
at  such  a  crisis.  Therefore  the  supporters  as  well  as  the 
opponents  of  administration  joined  their  ranks,  and  in  little 
more  than  a  year  their  numbers  amounted  to  four  thousand 
two  hundred  more. 

Men  of  all  sects  and  orders  met  in  the  same  ranks, 
shared  in  the  same  fare,  and  the  same  services,  forgot  their 
divisions,  conversed  with  each  other,  not  as  formerly, 
like  enemies  or  rivals,  but  as  countrymen  and  friends. 
It  became'  every  day  more  clear  to  the  liberal  and  un- 
biassed friends  of  the  country,  that  something  should  be 
done  for  the  Telief  of  the  catholics,  who  were  in  effect 
**  strangers  at  home."    The  people  of  Ireland  had  long 


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CAULFIELD.  41S 

looked  forward  to  the  resalt  of  the  American  contest  as 
the  criterion  of  their  own  fate;  and  many  of  the  most 
leading  li^nded  proprietors  foresaw,  that,  if  America  should 
be  successful  in  shaising  off  the  government  of  England, 
her  next  project  would  be  to  encourage  emigration  from 
Europe,  to  people  her  boundless  but  fertile  solitudes ;  and, 
with  such  an  opportunity,  it  was  natural  to  expect  that 
the  catholic  population  of  Ireland  would  prefer  expa- 
triation and  liberty  in  America,  to  slavery,  debasement, 
and  oppression  at  home;  and  that  population  was  of  some 
value  to  the  land-owner,  if  not  to  the  government.  Some 
efforts  were  made  in  England,  by  Sir  George  Saville  and 
other  leading  men,  for  the  relief  of  the  catholics  there; 
and  Lord  North,  then  at  the  head  of  the  British  minis- 
try, was  highly  favourable  to  relaxation  in  Ireland,  but 
thought  that  any  measure  for  that  purpose  should  origi- 
nate in  the  Irish  parliament.  Accordingly  Mr.  Luke 
Gardiner,  afterwards  Lord  Mountjoy,  a  man. of  large  pos- 
sessions in  the  country,  in  1778,  brought  in  a  bill,  the  chief 
objects  of  which  were  to  empower  catholics,  subscribing 
the  oaths  of  allegiance,  to  take  leases  of  lands  for  nine 
hundred  and  ninety-nine  years ;  and  to  render  such  pro- 
perty devisable  and  descendible,  as  that  enjoyed  by  pro- 
testants ;— and,  also,  to  abrogate  that  infamous  law  for 
enabling,  and  consequently  encouraging,  the  son  of  a 
catholic  gentleman  to  make  his  father  tenant  for  life,  and 
possess  himself  of  the  inheritance,  by  proving  his  father 
a  catholic,  and  conforming  himself  to  the  established 
church.  This  bill  was  resisted  in  every  suge ;  but  finally 
carried  in  the  house  of  commons ;  and  in  the  lords  it 
passed  by  a  majority,  thirty-six  to  twelve.  Such  was  the 
change,  excited  by  the  rapid  alteration  of  circumstances, 
in  parliamentary  sentiment  within  the  short  space  of  six 
years ;  and  thus  was  the  long  proscribed  catholic  restored 
once  more.to  the  privilege  of  obtaining  a  permanent  inhe- 
ritance in  his  native  country.  The  last- mentioned  clause 
of  this  bill,  Lord  Charlemont  supported,  but  opposed  it 
on  other  points.    The  bill  was  gratefully  accepted  as  an 


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414  CAULFIELD. 

important  boon,  and  produced  effects  im  ^e  «griciik««6 
and  indnstry  of  the  country  witbin  ten  y^arSy^aparalkled  Ib 
the  history  of  «ny  nation  in  Europe  witbm  the  like  period. 
Still  the  distressea  of  the  country  were  great,  and  her  reve- 
nues reduced  to  a  state  of  insolvency,  from  the  tram- 
melled state  of  her  external  commerce^  And  the  nation 
now  felt  iuelf  in  a  situation  to  remonstrate  with  England, 
in  firm  but  moderate  language,  for  the  reuioval  of  her 
grievances,  and  a  fair  participation  in  the  rights  of  Britieh 
subjects,  as  a  country  annexed  to  the  British  cromi) 
though  under  a  distinct  parliament.  It  lemained  tbea  <to 
establish  the  independent  iprivileges  of  that  parliament^ 
free  from  the  control  of  an  external  senate ;  and  the  con- 
stitutional rights  of  Ireland,  as  a  distinct  country,  to  be 
governed  by  her  own  king,  lords,  and  commons,  under 
laws  of  their  own  enactment. 

Now  commenced  the  most  active  period  of  LordC!harle- 
mont's  life.  The  volunteer  army  daily  increased  in 
strength  and  respectability.  It  was  not  composed  of 
ignorant  mercenaries  enlisted  from  the  lowest  orders  of 
the  community,  and  reduced  to  discipline  by  rigouf,  kept 
in  order  by  severity,  with  little  understanding  or  warm 
feeling  for  the  interests  of  iheir  country ;  animal  machines 
— ^thoughtful  of  nothing  but  iheir  pay,  and  implicit  obe- 
dience to  the  commands  of  their  officers.  The  volunteers, 
on  the  contrary,  were  composed 'umversalty  of  educated 
men,  who  read,  thought,  understood,  and  felt,  for  the 
cause  in  which  they  were  engaged  ;— for  a  country  where 
they  possessed  rights  and  interests,  which  they  had  shewn 
themselves  prompt  to  defend  from  a  foreign  enemy,  and 
which  they  now  wished  to  render  worthy  the  name  of -a 
sister  nation  to  England.  Lord  Charlemont  was  ch€«en 
to  the  chief  command  of  Uhe  Leinster  army,  which  'gave 
him  a  just  celebrity  or  distinction,  which  he  acknow- 
ledged as  the  principal  and  dearest  honour  of  his  life;' 
and  happy  it  was  for  the  country  and  the  empire,  that  he, 
and  men  of  his  chcuticter  for  wisdom  and  moderation, 
were  selected  by  the  whole  body  to  hold  'the  chief  sway 


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CAULFIELD.  415 

in  their  dkeettOD.  For  it  was  by  the  ioflneDce  of  their 
wisdom,  the  veneration  paid  to  it  bj  their  country,  that 
every  thing  like  intempeKitc  ebullition  was  restrained, 
whenever  such  a  disf^osition  partially  appeared ;  and  the 
spirit  of  the  whole  was  directed  by  loyalty  to  their  king, 
but  a  manly  and  firm  devotion  to  the  rights  and  just  claims 
of  their  country.  So  far  as  depended  on  Lord  Charlemont> 
he  devoMl  his  whole  time  and  mind  to  the  duties  he  had 
asffuffled.  At  this  time  the  distress  of  the  mamifactnrers 
was  great  beyond  conception,  and  tens  of  thousands  were 
supported  by  charity,  and  the  value  of  cattle  and  corn  was 
so  reduced  by  embargoes,  aud  the  consequent  cessiktion 
of  external  "demand,  that  the  tenantry  could  not  pay  their 
rents.  The  British  government,  and  many  eminent  men 
in  parliadient,  were  willing  to  yield  some  measures  of 
relief,  by  removing  the  restrictions  upon  Irish  external 
cominerce ;  but  (he  jealous  clamonrs  of  the  British  manu- 
facturers prevented  them.  Lord  Charlemont  corresponded 
with  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham,  and  other  enlightened 
friends  to  Ireland  in  the  British  senate;  but  the  influence 
6f  a  few  manofacturing  towns  in  England  prevailed 
against  the  interests  of  all  Ireland.  At  length  the  whole 
country,  as  one  man,  determined  on  an  experiment  to 
relieve  themselves-^and  entered  into  non-importation  and 
non-consumption  agreements  against  all  English  commo- 
modities  whatever.  This  was  the  expedient  which  Dean 
Swift  had  in  vain  advised,  half  a  century  before.  And  it 
suddenly  produced  signal  effects :  -despondency  amongst 
the  working  orders  was  changed  to  joy  and  gratitude. 
Those  of  the  higher  orders  who  had  been  most  supine,  were 
now  stimulated  to  a  sense  of  their  duty,  and  'the  British 
manufacturers  were  quickly  taught  to  feel,  that  some  >of 
their  best  interests  were  most  vulnerable  in  that  country, 
whose  claims  they  resisted  with  such  selfish  hostility. 

Matters  were  now  approaching  to  a  crisis.  Lord  Charle- 
mont had  the  honour,  as  well  as  the  high  satisfaction  to 
introduce  into  the  house  of  commons,  as  representative 
for  his   borough  of  Charlemont,   that  justly  celebrated 


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416  CAULPIELD. 

orator  and  patriot,  Henry  Grattan^  then  a  young  barrister; 
bat  whose  talents  afterwards  shed  so  much  lastre  upon 
his  country*    Towards  the  close  of  the  session  of  parlia- 
ment in  1778,  an  address  was  moved  by  Mr.  Dennis  Daly, 
the  object  of  which  was,  to  open  the  trade  of  Ireland — 
bat  it  was  negativedt    Tbat  gentleman  and  hk  friends 
(of  whom  Lord  Charlemont  was  a  principal  one)  deter* 
mined  to  renew  it  in  the  next  session:  and  an  address  was 
accordingly  framed,  and  moved  by  Mr.  Grattan  in  answer 
to  the  lord-lieutenant's  speech  from  the  throne.    It  stated 
the  necessity  and  justice  of  the  claims  of  Ireland ;  and 
Mr.    Bargh,    then    prime«serjeant,    on   the    suggestion 
of  Mr.   Flood,  moved  an  amendment  to  the  preamble, 
*^  that  nothing  but  a  free  trade  could  save  the  country  from 
ruin,*'  and  the  amendment  was  carried  unanimously.  When 
the  house  went  up  with  the  address  to  the  castle,  the 
Dublin  Volunteers,  under  the  command  of  the  Duke  of 
Leinster,  lined  the  streets  through  which  they  passed,  in 
grateful  approbation,  and  the  house,  immediately  at  the 
next  meeting,  voted  their  unanimous  thanks  to  them. 
And  shortly  afterwards  they  passed  a  money  bill  for  sio; 
months,  and  no  longer. 

These  proceedings  excited  the  attention  of  the  British 
ministry ;  and  some  commercial  resolutions  in  favour  of 
Ireland,  were  ably  introduced  by  Lord  North,  in  the  Bri- 
tish bouse  of  commons.  These  resolutions  re-opened  the 
woollen  trade  of  Ireland,  and  gave  a  freedom  of  commerce 
with  the  British  colonies,  which  were  received  in  Ireland 
with  marked  demonstrations  of  public  joy  and  gratitude. 

Mr.  Grattan,  some  short  time  afterwards,  acting  in  concert 
with  his  noble  friend,  Lord  Charlemont,  moved  in  parliament 
a  declaration  of  rights  i  n  favour  of  Ireland,  preiaced  by  amost 
animated  and  splendid  oration.  It  was,  however,  resisted 
by  the  court  members,  and  failed.  The  popular  indigna* 
tion  roused  by  this  circumstance,  vented  itself  in  angry 
but  juslifiableresolutions,  and  addresses.  Parliament  did 
not  rise  till  September  1780,  anjd  Lord  Buckinghamshire 
was  recalled  from  the  government  the  Christmas  following. 


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CAULFIELD.  417 

He  was  eoeceeded  by  the  Earl  of  Carlisle,  accompanied 
by  Mr.  Eden,  (afterwards  Lord  Auckland,)  as  his  secretary. 
The  nation  called  out  for  independence ;  for  without  a 
free  constitution,  they  regarded  a  free  trade  as  insecure. 
Lord  Carlisle  did  not  meet  parliament  tillthe  October 
after  bis  arrival ;  and  the  plan  of  a  national  bank  was  pro- 
posed as  a  measure  of  popularity  to  his  administration,  and 
adopted. 

'  In  the  year  1781 9  an  eveqt  took  place  peculiarly  illus- 
trative of  the  ardent   loyalty,   which  prevailed  in   the 
northern  volunteer  army,  different  in  no  respect  from  what 
would  have  been  shewn  in  any  other  part  of  the  kingdom, 
had  occasion  required  it.  A  rumour  was  prevalent,  that  the 
French  had  determined  on  the  invasion  of  Ireland;  Lord 
Charlemont,  in  consequence,  waited  on  the  lord-lieutenant, 
who  acquainted  him  there  was  strong  reason  to  believe  the 
rumour  authentic,  and  that  a  letter  from  Lord  Stormont, 
then  secretary  of  state,  gave  many  particulars  of  the  pro* 
posed  expedition,  and  stated  that  Cork  was  the  meditated 
point  of  attack.    Lord  Charlemont  proposed,  that,  with 
his  excellency's  permission,   he  should  proceed   to  the 
north,  with  *^  the  fullest  reliance  of  obtaining"  a  volunteer 
auxiliary  force  there,  ready  to  march  to  the  southward, 
and   ba£9e  every  attempt  of  the  enemy.    The  viceroy 
warmly  approved  his  proposal,  and  his  lordship  set  out 
next  morning,  and  reached   Armagh   that  night.     The 
officers  of  his  own  corps  (which  consisted  of  one  thousand 
infantry,  with   two  troops  of  horse  and   two  companies 
of  artillery)  were  at  that  time  in  the  town,  attending  the 
assizes;  and  no  sooner  had  his  lordship  stated  to  them  his 
object,  and  asked  what  they  would  authorise  him  to  say  to 
the  viceroy,  than  the  lieutenant-colonel,  authorised  by  the 
rest  of  the  officers,  expressed  that  **  his  regiment  were 
extremely  hurt  that  his  lordship,  whom  they  had  unani* 
mously  chosen  as  their  colonel,  should  feel  it  necessary  to 
make  an  application  so  hurtful  to  their  feelings,  for  with 
the  reliance  which  they  hoped  he  had  on  their  spirit  and 
obedience,  he  should  in  the  first  instance  have  assured  the 
vot.  I.  E  E 


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4\i  CACLFiEtD. 

loricl-lieuteiiilnt  thi&t  his  reglineiit  wfeire  re^^,  at  ft  mOtnefii^ 
warnibgy  to  ibafch  and  jbin  the  kirig's  trdops  at  Coi1r>  ahd 
be  bad  then  but  to  ^end  dbWti  bis  oHerd^  and  they  Wonid 
have  instantly  obeyed,  itxA  marched  t6  meet  the  eneniy.^ 
They  would  hearken  to  fao  declaratory  resolutions  ;-^l 
was  only  requisite  lb  inform  bis  Excellency  they  sh^dld 
he  at  Cork  as  soon  ai  isldy  other  troops  in  the  king's  liervic^ 
and  they  entreated  be  would  never  again  use  them  so  ill  Ift 
to  make  a  similar  appHcatidii,  but  answei  fdt  them  in  his 
bwn  name,  and  cdtnihand  iheih  any  Wbbre;  kt  any  tiknls. 
The  whole  nofthem  arniy  followed  this  gtilaiit  exathpl^, 
and  fifteen  thousand  men  declared  thedidelVed  rkady  t6 
inarch^  ai;  a  ttioment's  notice,  for  th^'  south,  And  p]a<^e 
themselves  utider  the  co^miand^>f  his  majesty's  generals, 
leaving  a  sufficient  force  behihd  for  the  defence  of  the 
northern  counties.^  This  promptitude  gave  the  highest 
pleasure  to  bis  lordship,  because  it  enabled  htm  to  she^ 
to  bis  excellency  the  diipositioh  of  hift  countryfailsn.  HU 
excellency,  at  his  lordship's  request,  ordered  camp  equi- 
pages to  be  furnished  to  such  corps  as  were  unprovided ; 
and  it  may  be  fiairly  presumed,  tbat  the  same  spirit,  mani* 
fested  tbroiighout  the  country,  indulced  the  enemy  to  aban- 
don his  project* 

In  such  intervals  of  leisure  as  his  military  duties  afforded*, 
the  peaceful  retreat  of  his  elegant  villa  at  Marino, 
bordering  on  Ddbliii  bay,  or  his  town  residence  in  Rutl&ttd 
square,  affbrded  the  bpportunities  of  literacy  amusement, 
and  intercourse  with  his  flriends  in  the  tti^trOiioUs.  Both 
structures  were  simple,  but  tasteful  specittiiens  of  ^ithi^ 
tecture,  in  the  Grecian  style,  atid  furnished  with  excellent 
librariea^  4nd  works  of  statuary  and  paintings,  by  the  firbt 
a'rtists. 

The  parliament  at  length  ^seiiibled^  an^  Lord  Chari«^ 
moht,  on  the  first  day  of  its  session,  moved  the  thanks  of 
the  house  of  lords  to  the  volunteers,  which  piassied  unairi* 
lUonsly,  a^  did  a  similar  motioti  on  the  same  day  id  A^ 
house  of  commons.  The  viceroy.  Lord  tJisuiisle,  m'ost 
nrbngly  recommended  to  the  English  cabMet,  it  (tei^etiOn 


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CAULFIELD.  419 

of  aH  ohmis  ot  the  Britiih  parliRment  to  bind  Irditod  by 
any  laws  kMde  lit  Westminstar,  as  theretofore ;  and  Lord 
Charlemont  looked  with  ooafidence  to  the  conduct  of  pat- 
Ikmetit  itsdfy  from  which  he  augured  the  speedy  accom- 
plishtDeai  of  the  great  objects  so  anxiously  desired  by  the 
ooUotry  *  At  length  took  place  the  memorable  convention 
at  Dttflgamony  the  proposal  for  which  originaied  from  the 
iouthera  baittalion  of  the  first  Ulster  regiment,  oommaoded 
by  Lord  Gbarlemont  The  officers  and  delegates  of  that 
battalioo  met  on  theBBth  of  Deoember^  1781,  and  resolTcd 
to  publish  k  decbration  ^' that  they  beheld  with  the  ntmoaiC 
concern  the  little  attention  paid  to  the  oonsiitutiond  rightt 
of  Irelandi  by  the  majority  of  those  whose  duty  it  was  to 
Establish  and  presenre  them/'  and  diey  intited  every 
volunteer  association  throughout  their  province  to  send 
delegates  to  deliberate  on  the  alanntng  situation  of  puMtc 
affairs;  and  find  on  Friday,  the  I5th  of  February,  1780, 
for  sadi  an  assembly,  at  Dangannon.  On  that  day  the 
representatives  of  one  hundred  and  forty-three  corps  of 
volunteers  of  Ulster  asaeoibledl  accordingly ;  Colonel  WiU 
liam  Irvine  took  the  chair;  and  the  assembly  was  composed 
of  gentlemen  of  the  aio^  considerable  fortune,  their  loyalty 
lind  patriotism  were  well  known  and  acknowledged,  and 
they  formed  twenty  reselatioas,  declaraiory  of  the  rights 
ami  grievances  of  their  eonntty,  and  at  the  same  time 
ei:preaBive  of  their  exultation  in  the  lace  relaxation  ef  the 
penal  laws  against  xhm  Rossan  catholic  coantrjrmen;  and 
they  ooncloded  fay  ^roting  the  foHowing  abort,  spirited, 
and  impressive  addiess  to  the  minority  in  both  bouses  of 
parliooient:*^ 

^^  My  lonh  and  gcaitlemen; 

'^  We  duitak  ycsi  for  your  noble  and  spirited,  thougd 
hitherto  ineffectoal  efforts  in  defence  of  the  great  coasti- 
sutiooal  rights  of  yowr  country :  go  on !  the  a!(mos.t  niiaiii*- 
motts  vtrioe  of  the  people  is  wkh  yon,  and,  in  a  firee-coon* 
try,  the  voice  of  the  people  muat  prevail. 

^  We  know  mir  duty  to  oar  sovereign,  and  are  loyal. 
We  itnosr  kmht  duty  to  onrsdves>  and  are  resolved  to  be 


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420  CAULFIELD. 

free.  We  seek  for  our  rights,  and  no  more  than  our  rights : 
and  in  so  just  a  pursuit,  we  should  doubt  the  being  oi  a 
Providence,  if  we  doubted  of  success.'* 

The  moderate  temper  but  manly  firmness  of  this  address, 
greatly  disappointed  the  hopes  of  the  enemies  of  ther 
country ;  and  the  proceedings  of  the  convention  seemed  to' 
attach  the  applause  even  of  foes,  as  well  as  friends.  In  little 
more  than  a  month  the  British  ministry  gave  way ;  and 
Lord  Carlisle  having  sent  in  his  resignation  to  London, 
through  his  secretary,  Mr.  Eden, — his  lordship  was  suc- 
ceeded in  the  viceroyalty  by  the  Duke  of  Portland, 
attended  by  Colonel  Fitzpatrick^  (brother  to  Lord  Ossory,) 
as  his  secretary.  Hi's  grace,  on  his  arrival,  was  hailed  by 
all  ranks  as  the  harbinger  of  liberty,  conciliation,  and 
peace.  A  whig  ministry  in  England,  at  the  head  of  which 
was  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham,  and  a' whig  viceroy  in 
Ireland,  who  had  zealously  co-operated  with  that  ministry, 
were  omens  highly  auspicious  to  the  hopes  of  Lord  Charle- 
mont,  for  the  completion  of  those  objects  for  which  he  had 
laboured  throughout  his  political  life,  and  so  highly  were 
bis  character,  his  integrity,  and  his  weight  in  the  political 
scale  of  his  country  estimated,  that  the  change  of  men  and 
measures  were  announced  to  him  by  a  most  cordial  and 
congratulatory  letter  frpm  his  old  friend,  the  Marquis  of 
Buckingham;  and  his  confidence  and  support  earnestly 
solicited  by  the  new  viceroy  and  his  secretary  immediately 
on  their  arrival.  He  received  at  the  same  time,  another  letter 
from  Mr.  Fox,  couched  in  a  similar  spirit  of  confidence, 
and  giving  the  strongest  assurances  of  the  cordial  wishes 
of  the  new  administration  to  promote  in  every  way  the 
prosperity,  the  freedom,  and  the  attachment  of  Ireland;  to 
which  suitable  answers  were  returned  by  his  lordship. 

In  the  proceedings  of  the  l6th  April,  1782,  the  reso- 
lutions moved  by  Mr.  Grattan,  in  the  house  of  commons, 
and  carried,  were  objected  to  at  the  oastle,  not  so  much 
for  their  substance  (for  the  British  ministry  meant  fairly) 
as  because  they  were  thought  to  require  some  modifications, 
which,  in  the  opinion  of  Lord  Charlemont  and  his  friends. 


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CAULFIELD.  421 

\rouId  have  ditninished  their  weight  and  eB^cacy.  Perhaps, 
the  Duke  of  Portland  might  think  they  would  not  meet 
the  concurrence  of  the  British  cabinet  without  some  alter- 
ation.    Lord  Charlemont  had  some  interviews  with  his 
grace  on  the  subject^  and  declared  the  intention  of  him- 
self and  his  friends,  to  move  the  resolutions  again  in  both 
houses  without  any  alteration;  and  that  ministers  mi^t 
take  what  course  they  thought  fit.     In  this  state  of  un- 
certainty, when  the  house  met,  it  was  wholly  unknown  to 
Lord  Charlemont  and  his  friends,  whether  the  resolutions 
and  address,  which  Mr.Grattan  was  to  move,  would  be 
opposed  by  government,  or  not.     Mr.  Grfittan,  however, 
persevered ;  and,  though  much  indisposed,  h^  prefaced  his 
declaration  of  rights  by  a  most  splendid  oration.     He 
suted  the  three  great  causes  of  complaint  on  the  part  of 
Ireland;  namely,  the  declaratory  statute  of  George  I.  en- 
ablii^  the  British  parliament  to  make  laws  to  bind  Ire- 
land ;    the  perpetual  meeting  bill,   which  rendered  the 
standing  army  of  Ireland  independent  of  the  control  of 
parliament ;  and  the  unconstitutional  powers  of  the  Irish 
privy  council,  to  mutilate,  or  suppress,  bills  of  the  Irish 
parliament  on  their  way  to  England  for  the  royal  assent. 
The  repeal  of  these  obnoxious  statutes,  and  the  abolition 
of  that  most  improper  sway  of  the  Irish  privy  council, 
were,   he  said,  the  terms  on   which  alone  he  could  be 
induced  to  support    the    government.     The  address  to 
his  majesty,   stating  the  grievances  of  Ireland,  and  the 
declaration  of  rights,  were  then  moved  by  him  in  answer 
to  the  king's  message.     The  sense  of  the  house,  in  favour 
of  the  address,  was  unequivocally  manifest.     All  oppo- 
sition, if  any  were  intended,  was  relinquished ;  and  the 
address  passed  unanimously; — as  did  a  similar  one  in  the 
house  of  lords*    The  British  ministry  acted  with  candour 
and  magnanimity.  Mr.  Fox  moved  the  repeal  of  the  obnox- 
ious statute  of  George  I.  in  the  British  house  of  commons 
with  his  usual  ability*     Lord  Shelburne  moved  a  similar 
resolutipn  in  the  lords  ;  and  the  repeal  was  immediately 
adopted.     If  any  thing  could  surpass  the  patriotic  zeal 


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4M  CAULFIELD. 

and  temperate  liritiDeM  wbich  marked  die  oondoot  of  tli« 
Irish  perliamefit  aod  people  in  pvirsait  of  their  coBtCits* 
tiooal  rights,  it  was  the  anboanded  joy  and  geaerona 
gratitude  they  manifested  oa  this  first  pledge  of  political 
sincerity  on  the  part  of  the  British  government  toward 
Ireland.  The  parliament  Toted  twenty  thousand  seamen 
for  his  majesty's  navy;  and  the  whole  volunteer  body 
cheerfully  engaged  to  contribute  their  aid  and  influence 
in  raising  the  men*  A  sum  of  50,000L  was  unanimoualy 
voted  to  Mr.  Grattan,  as  a  tribute  from  his  grateful  coun« 
try,  for  those  exertions  of  his  eloquence  which  io  mainly 
contributed  to  the  restoration  of  her  rights ;  and  a  day  of 
public  thanksgiving  was  appointed  to  the  Almighty  for 
that  union,  harmony,  and  cordial  affection  so  happily 
effected  between  the  two  kingdoms. 

But,  notwithstanding  tlie  unanimity  which  teemed  to 
have  prevailed  in  parliament,  that  the  simple  repeal  of  the 
statute  of  George  I.  was  an  ample  renouncement  of  idl 
right,  on  the  part  of  the  English  parliament,  to  legislate  for 
Ireland,  a  few  members,  at  the  head  of  whom  was  Mr.  Flood, 
now  came  forward  to  start  objections,  and  to  declare  that 
nothing  wasdone, and  that nothingsbortof  entire  and  formal 
renunciation  on  the  part  of  England,  of  all  right  to  bind  Ire- 
land by  British  laws,  could  be  valid  or  efficient.  But  all  the 
powers  oF  Mr.  Flood's  eloquence  could  ncM;  persuade  the 
parliament  to  adopt  this  notion ;  and  they  declared  them- 
selves  almost  unanimously  satisfied  with  the  simple  repeal, 
as  fully  binding  upon  the  honour  of  England  :— ^^  The 
nation,''  said  ^r.Grattan,''  that  insists  on  the  bumiliatioti 
of  another,  is  a  foolish  nation.^  But  notwithstanding  the 
satisfaction  expressed^by  pariiament,  a  very  opposite  feel- 
ing prevailed  out  of  doors-^discontent  gained  ground — 
the  arguments  pf  Mr.  Flood  had  a  very  general  infiuesee. 

On  the  3 1st  of  July,  the  volunteers  of  Bdfast  declared, 
by  a  majority  of  (zdo,  ^'that  the  nation  ought  not  to  be 
satisfied  with  what  had  been  done/'  Many  other  corps 
followed  their  example:  and  Mr.  Grattan,  for  whose 
patriotic  conduct  and  eloquent  exertions^  the  whole  nation 


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CAULflELD.  m 

HW^f^  pf  J#tf  tor  Ijj?  fko  i^i^aQtaio^sIy  gro^fgl  w^s  re?il^d, 
1^:^^^  io  *n4  o^t  qf  parli^ent^  by  tbp  pffflisans  of  ^r. 
pteof}>  <|qctriq^  agaipft  ih^  efficacy  of  siiople  repp^^!. 
Qvt  tb^t  wfiicli  seemed  to  l^e^p  pew  poi^bastibles  pa  thi^ 
p^wjj  kii)41e(l  flame,  was  the  attj&mpt  of  Lord  Abingdoa 
to  iotroduce  a  bill  in  tb^  Prjtisb  houpe  of  ^rds,  ^^serting 
the  right  of  Qr^eat  Qritajn  to  legislat)^  ext|^rpally  for  Ire^ 
land :  ^n^  tk§  ba^is  of  this  bil)  w^  a  preamble^  stating,  that 
wd^Tie^s  th^  iciog^  of  Englapd  having  been  acknowledged 
spyejr^gAf  pf  tl).e  EfQgjUb  s^  fqr  eighteen  centuries^  tb^ 
British  parliao^jept  had  the  sple  fight  to  make  laws  to  regu- 
late the  external  comn^erce  of  Great  Britain^  and  all  sucb 
kingdoms  as  ^e  under  its  spyereigpty.  T^^F^  ^as  also  ^ 
diiil^e  in  the  bill,  stating,  that  whereas  Queen  JElizaWth 
bM-ving  formerly  forbad  th^  kipgs  of  France  to  build  more 

.  sbips  tbw  they  Uij^a  bad,  without  ^er  leave  first  obtained| 
it  enacted  that  pp  kiugdoni,  as  above  ^tated^  Ireland^  f^f 
well  as  others,  sbopld  pr^upap  jtp  build  a  nayy,  or  uny 
pbip  or  shH)s  pf  war  without  Jeaye  from  thp  lord  h^g^ 

~  lulmiral  of  Epgland/'  The  very  apnouRqement  of  this 
bill  excited  a  strong  ^d  general  feriji^^pjt  p  Ireland, 
imd  raised  such  distrust  ai^  indignatipri  ai^ong  tb^ 
volunteer  cprps  whq  had  p)edg^  tb^ijr  ^^ertions  for  raising 
the  twenty  thousand  se^p^j^n,  tlj^t  tfopy  desist^jtjl  fropa  their 
laodal^le-  ende^vpurs :  ^p.d  a  pvm^ous  and  resppct^bl^ 
corps  19  the  metropolifi,  th^p  upd^  ^e  ii^n^^diate  com^ 
mwd  of  Lord  jCharlemppt,  entered  jntp  vpry  warpi  jpesolu- 
tions  against  enrolling  ^y  seaip^n,  and  sent  their  resolu- 
tions to  his  lordship,  thep  in  the  nprtb,  witl)  the  ;^armes^ 
e:fpffession^  of  personal  resp^cjt  and  kipdnes^.  To  tl^is  hi^ 
Iprdabip  re^urnj^  p  pplit^  ^d  moderate  answer,  ii^  which 
be^ew^d  th^m  the  ^^sl^i^ess  of  suffering  themselves  to  bf 
alarmed  by  xbe  m^asurp  in  question,  which  was  ''  the  pro^ 
dup^pn  of  an  individual  nobleman,  actuated  by  his  own 
private  whim  ig^d  pirejudice,  and  not  adopted,  nor  even 
f ufl^^  to  pjLPP^ed  tp  discuj^ipn  in  the  Epglish  parliament* 
Tfac  speitcb  pf  Lord  Abipgdpp  jn  his  attppipt  to  introduce 


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424  CAULPIELO. 

thid  bill,  was  ably  and  explicitly  replied  to,  and  tbe  bill 
was  not  even  suffered  to  lie  on  the  table.  Were  the  volan^ 
teers  of  Ireland,  therefore,  upon  every  breath  of  rumour, 
to  agitate  their  own  minds,  to  forfeit  the  steadiness  of  their 
character,  or  to  desist  from  proceeding  in  a  measure,  to 
which  the  nation  was  bound  in  honour,  and  so  essentially 
necessary  to  the  security  of  their  country,  as  well  as  Eng^ 
land,  by  manning  the  Channel  fleet  for  common  defence 
against  the  common  enemy  V*   This  persuasive  remon- 
strance had  the  desired  effect,  and  all  apprehension  va- 
nished. A  most  respectable  meeting  was  called  in  Dublin, 
and  Lord  Charlemont  was  requested  to  take  the  chair, 
and,  pursuant  to  the  desire  of  the  meeting,  wrote  to  every 
.  sheriff  in  Ireland,  strongly  recommending  to  their  zealous 
support  this  important  service;  and   from   all   quarters 
received  the  most  satisfactory  assurances  of  their  com- 
pliance.    The  act  for  repealing  the  statute  of  George  L 
having  received  tbe  royal  assent,  a  correspondence  fol- 
lowed between  Lord  Charlemont,  and   the  Marquis  of 
Rockingham,  and  Mr.  Burke.    The  majquis,  in  terms  of 
the  most  cordial  esteem,  congratulated  bis  lordsbrp  on 
the  happy  change  of  circumstances  for  his  country,  as  did 
Mr.  Burke;  and  both  earnestly  recommended  the  speediest 
possible  completion  of  the  generous  and  well-tim.ed  offer 
of  Ireland,  to  raise  the  twenty  thousand  seamen :  acquaint- 
ing him  that  Lord  Keppel  had  sent  one  of  the  best  and 
most  alert  officers  in  the  navy,  Captain  M'firide,  to  receive 
the  men ;  which  would  enable  him  iu  three  weeks  to  man 
fourteen  additional  ships  of  the  line,  for  Lord  Howe's 
command,  which  would  enable  the  British  fleet  to  cope 
with  the  enemy,  though  superior  in  number  of  their  line 
of  battle  ships ;  and  nothing  but  tbe  friendly  efforts  of 
Ireland  could  rapidly  furnish  men  for  the  purpose. 

To  this  letter  Lord  Charlemont  answered,  by  expressing 
bis  confidence  in  the  success  of  the  measure,  in  spite  of  a 
discontented  party,  and  promising  his  own  best  efforts  to 
promote  it.      The  men  were  accordingly  raised.  Lord 


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CAULFIELD.  425 

Howe's  fteet  of  fourteen  sail  of  the  line  were  manned,  and 
the  world  has  heard  of  the  result,  that  the  enemy's  fleet 
was  utterly  defeated. 

In  the  summer  of  1782  a  plan  was  proposed  by  goTem- 
ment  to  supply  the  deficiency  of  the  troops  of  the  line, 
which,  from  the  number  of  twelve  thousand  men,  settled 
in  Lord  Townshend's  administration,  as  the  standing  force 
of  the  country,  was  now  reduced  by  drafts  for  foreign  ser« 
vice  to  three  thousand  men,  not  sufficient  for  garrison 
duty :  and  the  plan  proposed  was  to  raise  four  provincial 
regiments  of  one  thousaud  men  each,  under  the  name  of 
fendbles;  to  be  enrolled  for  three  years,  or  for  the  war, 
and  officered  by  Irish  gentlemen,  with  rank  according  to 
the  numbers  they  should  respectively  raise,  and  not  be 
sent  out  of  Ireland.  The  plan  was  submitted  to  Lord 
Charlemont,  with  an  ofler  of  commanding  the  whole  or 
part,  with  the  rank  of  major-general.  The  latter  offer  he 
declined  on  the  first  instant,  and  afterwards  stated  to  the 
viceroy  his  objections  to  the  entire  plan.  From  his  pecu- 
liar situation,  he  knew  it  would  be  highly  unpopular.  If, 
however,  on  full  consideration,  it  should  appear  eligible, 
its  mere  unpopularity  would  not  sway  him  as  an  honest 
man.  The  volunteers  would  certainly  consider  it  as  a 
direct  attempt  to  undermine  them,  who  had  manifested 
such  alacrity  for  the  defence  of  their  country.  In  the 
result,  however.  Lord  Charlemont's  predictions  of  the  un^ 
popularity  of  the  measure  were  fully  verified,  and  although 
there  were  above  one  hundred  and  fifty  applications  for 
commissions  in  the  proposed  regiments,  and  many  of  those 
from  the  most  outrageously  abusive  enemies  of  the  fen- 
cible  scheme,  the  plan  was  abandoned ;  and  the  lord-^lien- 
tenantexpressed  to  Lord  Charlempnt  his  regret  that  bis 
lordship  had  proved  so  true  a  prophet. 

When  the  volunteer  regiments  of  Leinster  were  reviewed 
by  Lord  Charlemont  in  the  Phcenix  Park,  the  Duke  of 
Portland  was  present ;  and  on  being  thanked  by  the  noble 
general  at  the  next  levie,  for  the  honour  his  grace  had 
done  the  volunteer  troops  by  his  presence; — ^his  grace 


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41«  CAULFIELR 

repli^,  ^  Sttrely  my  lord,  a  body  of  uoapi  fpriiu4  on  wdi 
priBciples,  could  not  bjs  ao  near  ooe  wUbput  a  dwre  on 
my  part  to  see  their  exertions  in  the  fifld."  The  lika 
attention  was  shewn  every  where  by  the  officers  of  govern- 
neat;  and  wl^enever  the  king's  troops,  tl^en  under  the 
chief  command  of  General  Burgoyne,  met  with  the  volun- 
teers, military  honours  were  reciprocated.  To  Lord  Cbar- 
lemont  himself,  as  a  commandant,  every  degree  of  military 
respect  was  paid  by  the  king's  troops  wherever  he  passed. 
And  on  hjs  road  to  Limerick,  passing  through  the  town 
of  Nenagb,  a  party  of  the  18th  light  dragoons  insisted  on 
mounting  guard  for  him  at  his  inn,  whilst  be  staid,  and  ^, 
party  of  the  same  regiment  escorted  him  on  bis  journey, 
as  far  as  he  would  permit. 

Earl  Temple  (afterwards  Marquis  of  Buckingham)  9oe- 
ceeded  the  Duke  of  Portland  in  the  viceroyalty  in  1788; 
and,  previous  to  his  arrival,  iffrote  to  Lord  Oharlen^ont^ 
announcing  his  appointment,  and  soliciting,  as  his  prede- 
'  cessof  had  done,  his  lordship's  support  to  his  administra- 
tion. Lord  Clic^^^^oi^^  replied,  by  expressing  his  regret 
for  the  depar^ire  of  the  D^ike  of  Portland,  whos/e  princi- 
ples and  conduct  bad  been  the  sole  motive  of  bis  attachr 
ment  and  support ;  and  assuring  the  new  viceroy  of  his 
•opport  upon  the  same  grounds  only. 

About  ^is  time,  bis  majesty  was  pleased  to  found  an 
order  of  knighthood  in  Ireland,  by  the  appellation  qf  The 
KiiigbU  of  St.  Patricia;  and  Earl  Temple,  who  had  ^if 
majestys  eomv^aods  to  select  such  a  list  of  Irish  names,  at 
miebt  best  promote  bis  majesty^s  intentions  of  placing 
this  order  on  the  most  honourable  footing — addressed,  with 
bis  own  band,  a  letter  to  Lord  Cbarleipont,  stating,  that 
be  could  not  better  promote  his  majesty's  wishe^  than  by 
addressing  himself  to  a  no4^1eraan,  whose  bifth,  rapk,  for- 
tune, and  character,  as  well  as  hif  eminent  public  services, 
entitled  him  to  the  veneration  and  gratitude  of  bis  coun- 
try ;  and  requesting  pem^iission  to  place  faia  name  on  the 
list'of  new  knights.  This  iionour  bia  lordship  accepte^^ 
with  auitaUe  expresaioaa  of  bis  fiseliags  for  the  distinction 


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OAULBI£LD.  417 

-^rhui  OB  the  iaouBoenilitioiiB  af  perfisci  pariiattMlafy  inde- 
pendfiDoe^  as  he  bad  many  yeaiB  beibfe  acocpled  tka  dignity 
of  his  earldoBi ;  and  both  wero  the  more  honourable,  be- 
cause the  spontaneous  offers  of  the  orown,  wholly  un^ 
lioited  OB  his  part. 

Notwithstanding  the  conciliatory  measures  then  acoom* 
plished,  thens  were  still  some  embers  of  former  discontent 
on  the  subject  of  simple  repeal,  not  extinguished,  and 
nothing  short  of  an  explicit  and  total  renunciation  of  the 
British  parliament  to  legislate  for  Ireland,  i^onld  appease 
the  malcontents.  Lord  Charlemont  and  his  friends  stilt 
thought  sueh  a  demapid  indelicate,  because  indicative  of 
sispioion  towards  th^  hoaoor  and  sincerity  of  Eaglaad. 
But  his  loMl3hip,  who  had  daily  intelligence  t^  what  was 
passing,  saw  clearly  the  enemies  of  tranquillity  in  Ireland 
would  neirer  be  qqiet  until  this  point  was  conoeded  :-F^and 
be  therefore  judged,  that  to  relinquish  that  point,  would 
afford  the  last  chance  of  exploding  all  preteoees  for 
irritation.  But  ^  new  flame  was  kindled  by  the  circum- 
stance of  a  writ  of  error  froip  the  Irish  courts  to  the  oouri 
of  king's  bench  in  England,  transmitt^  previous  to  the 
new  order  of  things,  bei^g  entertained  and  ^acted  npon  by 
Lord  Mansfield.  This  circumstaaoe  was  regarded  99  an 
ittstanee  of  pwtie  faUh  oa  th^  part  of  Eqglaod :  end  the 
uproar  against  the  simple  repealists,  was  louder  than  cTcr. 
In  Tain  did  Lord  Charlemont  strive  tg  allay  the  gathering 
storm ;  although  he  considered  the  occurrence  fortunate, 
as  it  would  prevent  soph  e  droumstaace  being  repeated  in 
future.  Bui  it  led  to  the  adoption  of  a  measure  which 
silenced  all  apprehensions,  for  the  draiught  of  a  reconeilia* 
tory  bill  was  transmitted  by  liOid  Temple  to  Westminster, 
which  was  introduced  into  the  Briti«fh  f>arHameot  witb 
some  modi€cation;  passed  both  houses  without  oppo* 
sition ;  and  finally  received  the  royal  assent.  Lord  Tempte 
continued  in  office  until  the  coalition  between  Mr.  Fox, 
and  Lord  North,  took  place;  when  bis  lordship  was  suc- 
ceeded by  Lord  Northington.  Hie  friendalhtp  between 
Aem  and  Lord  Chailemont  continued  undiminished,  and 


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428  CAULnELD. 

the  volonteecB  of  Dublin  co-operating  with  their  venerated 
commander,  escorted  Earl  Temple  to  the  water-side  on  his 
return  to  England,  as  a  testimonial  of  their  gratitude  and 
respect.  Lord  Northington,  who  was  appointed  under 
the  influence  of  Mr.  Fox,  paid  the  same  respect  and  con- 
fidence to  Lord  Charlemont,  his  predecessors  had  done ; 
and  by  him  his  lordship  was  called  to  theprivj  council; 
an  honour  which  he  accepted  on  the  condition  that 
his  friend  Mr.  Grattan  should  be  called  to  a  seat  in  the 
same  assembly;  an  arrangement  which  shortly  afterwards 
took  place. 

The  friends  of  conciliation  and  tranquillity  were  now  con- 
gratulating each  other  upon  the  happy  termination  of  all 
political  disputes  between  the  sister  countries,  when  anew 
and  unforeseen  theme  of  contention  arose,  which,  in  its 
progress,  more  seriously  threatened  the  public  tranquillity 
than  any  topic  which  had  heretofore  heated  the  public 
mind; — it  was  the  question  of  parliamentary  reform.  The 
fatal  issue  of  the  American  war  had  completely  chagrined 
the  advocates  of  that  measure;  and  the  galling  weight  of 
taxation  incurred  by  that  contest,  exasperated  the  people 
of  England— quite  weary  of  so  hopeless  a  pursuit,  in  which 
the  great  majority  of  them  had  been  so  ardent  in  the  out- 
set. The  corrupt  state  of  parliamentary  representation 
was  now  considered  as  the  source  of  all  their  calamities  4 
apd  Mr.  Pitt,  then  just  of  age^  and  first  advancing  into 
public  notice,  became  the  avowed  champion  of  parliamen- 
tary reform  in  England.  The  people  of  Ireland  had  at 
least  as  much  reason  as  those  of  England  to  complain  of 
the  state  of  their  representation ;  and  the  voice  of  reform 
in  England  was  immediately  re-echoed  in  Ireland;  not 
simply  by  assemblies  of  the  people^  but  by  the  volunteer 
army, — issuing  indeed  from  the  people,  but  still  a  military 
body,  numerous  and  formidable ;  and  however  well  inten- 
tioned  that  army  in  general  was,  there  was  much  reason 
to  apprehend  that  amongst  them  some  of  great  popular 
influence  were  desirous  of  carrying  matters  much  beyond 
the  line  of  modification  and  improvement.    The  whole 


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CAULFIELD.  429 

kiDgdom  was  much  agitated  on  the  subject.  A  provincial 
meeting,  assembled  at  Cork,  on  the  IstofMarcb,  1785, 
published  many  strong  resolutions  in  favour  of  reform ; 
and  in  the  north,  another  meeting  of  delegates  from  forty- 
five  volunteer  corps,  assembled  at  Lisburne,  on  the  1st  of 
July  following,  and  afterwards  at  Belfast,  on  the  19th  of 
the  same  month  (which  afterwards  corresponded  with 
Mr.  Pitt,  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  and  other  British  advo- 
cates for  reform)  and  they  addressed  a  letter  to  Lord 
Charlemont,  then  on  a  visit  to  his  friend  Mr.  Brownlow, 
at  Laydon,  soliciting,  net  only  his  lordship's  support  in 
favour  of  a  reform  for  which  he  had  already  avowed  the 
warmest  approbation,  but  entreating  the  communication 
of  his  lordship's  sentiments  at  large  on  the  subject,  point- 
ing out  such  a  specific  mode  of  reform,  and  the  most 
eligible  steps  leading  to  it,  as  came  up  to  his  lordship's 
ideas;  and  naming  several  specific  points,  requesting  his 
lordship's  opinion,  whether  they  were  subjects  upon  which 
the  volunteers  of  Ireland  ought  to  interfere : — his  lord- 
ship's opinion  to  be  communicated  to  the  chairman  of 
their  meeting  at  Dungannon,  appointed  for  the  8th  of  Sep- 
tember following  ;  together  with  a  sketch  of  such  resolu- 
tions as  he  should  think  proper  to  be  proposed  at  that 
meeting. 

In  his  lordship's  answer  to  this  letter,  after  acknowledg- 
ing the  honour  of  their  high  opinion,  he  declined  giving 
any  opinion  beyond  the  reform  itself,  upon  the  specific 
detail  of  subordinate  points,  which  involved  questions  for 
the  most  able  and  minute  discussion  ;  and  suggested  that 
at  the  meeting,  the  measure  alone  should  be  recommended, 
without  specifying  any  mode,  leaving  that  entirely  to  the 
consideration  of  parliament. 

The  meeting,  however,  was  held  at  Dungannon,  on  the 
appointed  day ;  and  consisted  of  delegates  from  two  hun- 
dred and  sixty-nine  volunteer  corps.  Mr.  Stewart,  mem- 
ber for  Tyrone,  in  the  chair.  Lord  Bristol,  then  bishop  of 
Derry,  was  also  present.  Many  resolutions  were  passed; 
and  a  grand  national  convention  was  suggested  to  be  held 


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USD  OAULFIBLD. 

ki  Dublin,  on  ite  ibth of  Nofeihber  following}  locMsiil 
of  five  pertons  fVom  eUcb  coHttty^  to  be  ehowm  by  \Mtot, 
tm  digest  a  plan  of  parliAteentary  i«for&i,  nnd  adopt  stidi 
iB^asiiret  As  appeared  most  likely  to  effect  iu  An  addrest 
to  the  volunteers  of  Maastek*^  Leinster>  and  Connttdgbl, 
kceotnpanied  tbis  r^olotion.  Other  resolutions  wei^ 
adopts ;  and  particularly  one  fbr  etiending  tbe  electite 
fraotehise  to  the  Roman  catbtdlcb. 

The  eonvention  at  Dablin  at  leagtb  tt«k  pla6e»  Tbe 
goTemm^bt  was  by  no  uieaiii  at  ease ;  but  many  of  (be 
delegates  choaeb  were  of  a  character  imd  description  wbi6li 
l^reitlyMothed  tiieir  fear*;  and>  aokongst  Odiers,  iMA 
Cbirtonmnt  und  Mr.  Brownley>  who  were  cho^n  for  At- 
magta ;  Mr.  Stewait,  for  Tyrone ;  «kbd  many  noblemen  and 
gentleman  of  large  property  and  known  moderation^  eboien 
by  other  eobntied>  Who^e  hatred  to  aMrctiy  bid  beM  al- 
ways manifest. 

This  eonventioh  elected  Lord  Cbartemont  to  their  poesi- 
tleot's  ohair ;  an  honour  which  his  lordship  accepted^  lis  he 
bad  done  the  delegation  for  Armagh,  ioldy  with  a  view  t6 
co-bpeHikte  with  many  other  ddegateis^tfae  friends  of  ordet- 
and  moderation,  to  prevent  violence.  And  anothet  tfiotive 
Was  V6  binder  the  Bishop  of  Derry  from  being  called  tb 
the  chair,  for  which  that  prelate,  a  very  eccentric  and 
violent  nia»,  was  ei^^mely  solicitous,  and  to  whicA  he 
would  have  b^en  chosen,  bad  Lotd  Charlemont  declined. 
The  delegates  adjourned  their  sittings,  fot  more  n>om,  to 
the  rotunda  in  Rutland  square.  Tbeif  noble  pK^dent 
led  the  way^  escoHed  by  a  ^uadrbb  of  volanteer  eavtir^i 

The  assembly  was  extremely  nnmeixHis^  and  in  genfertd 
highly  respectable;  but,  in  con^uenoe  of  a  mixtut^  Of 
some  characters  too  ardent  in  natural  temper  and  polititMl 
feelings  to  be  easily  controlled  by  the  frietMis  of  wiede- 
ratfbn,  debates  mn  high,  ftoA  day  to  day ;  and  inMNwe«- 
Table  projects  of  refoitn  poured  in  "npon  the  committees 
Hppointed  ^  receive  them,  and  prepare  a  ^kpecific  plan  «6 
be  reported  to  tbe  convention.  At  length,  upon  tbe  t»o* 
^ion  bf  ^Aie  BMiop  6f  Deity,  Mr.  Amd  wan  dMieta  n 


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GAULPIELDi  iA\ 

mebbtr  of  the  tttt^fetior  Mtmfaittefe^  ftnd  #ooii  attUued  by 
his  imposing  talents  a  marked  asceddeilcjr.  Thki  Bi^btifi 
of  Darry  utretlnoilsly  ftap{«6ned  Ae  ir^olntion  fBir  ^if tend- 
ing  the  d^titii  flrandiisift  to  thb  eathdic^ ;  but  Mh  Fibdd 
as  itrfenttbiislyi  but  tnore  subcedsfnlly^  oi[>];k>ied  it.  Lbitl 
Chariemunt  and  htl  fri^ds^  tbimklbg;  thb  nieaidar^  At  tlAi 
time  preMatnfe,  opposed  it  also,  bfld  ik  was  finally  iiej^t^d. 
Various  bthier  plans  for  the  reform  itself  b^  il  MihiUd: 
ikte;  atid,  finally^  Mr.  Flood  prodaced  6n6  of  his  bWri, 
wbichi  bpoto  foil  diseassion,  was  Hot  d^emM  h^i&  tbM 
^ers  which  hAd  been  rfejett^; 

Wte  shall  Aot  here  attempt  to  dbtaH  die  {Mroceiedin^ 
Of  the  Mttvebtion  more  at  l«kf^.  Thb  «ssetobly,  ho#^ 
eVer,  at  length  tired  out  by  the  inaltiplicity  of  irMM^ 
ary  projebtl^  all  torded  towards  bond  Cbarlemdnt  JPor  hi* 
ophiion.  AvevB^  alike  to  bst^nutiott  MA  piiblie  ipt^akibg, 
he  had  hitherb  remained  silent;  but  ilew  ded^rM  hfi 
ireadihiess  to  isaerifice  the  only  bomaj^h  he  poUsesbed  to  xbi 
Wishes  of  that  country,  in  trust  fbr  which  he  had  blWayift 
held  fti  In  a  conversation,  whibh  his  lordship  held  apl&rt 
with  the  bishop  of  Deity,  that  noble  and  rcTlerend  pi^late, 
ib  allasion  to  the  catholic  qnesliM^  took  the  liberty  of 
tdling  his  lordship  ^'  that  his  condaet  wa^  b^  tkb  ^eabi 
generally  approved,  and  that  he  was  eohsideted  as  r^thei* 
lukiewarm  in  the  cau^  of  reforin*."  An  bbpleasani  cfon^ 
yenmtion  fbUowed^  which  closed  with  die  followiil^  dbclaL 
ration  of  his  h>rdiihip:— 

'*  The  diffbrende  I  make  between  the  ibrmeir  Md  pit^ 
seikt  ol:9ectB  of  oar  exertions  iis  this,-^Whilsfc  Irdand  wisik 
in  effect  subject  to  a  foreign  teg^latare,  th(ere  were  ik6 
lengths  to  whidi  I  Would  not  have  gone  to  k^kme  hdr 
from  a  state  which  I  considered  as  positive  stevery.  T6 
that  point  I  had  pledged  my  Hfe  and  fortune;  and  toward! 
the  attainment  of  it  I  Would  willingly  and  cheerfuHy  havlfe 
haxarded  not  only  them,  bat  What  Was  isttll  morie  dear  to 
me^  and  far  more  important,  the  peace  of  my  country. 
Our  present  object  I  esteem  great,  and  of  high  importance; 
and  to  atttiin  it,  will  do  every  thing  ao/t  ihcoivsi^tent  with 


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4iJ2  CAULFIELD. 

the  public  peace,  but  I  will  go  no  farther.     Make  what 
use  of  this  you  please." 

'  The  conventioQ  had  now  sat  three  weeks,  and  a  new 
parliament  having  met  at  the  end  of  October,  was  sitting 
the  while.  Lord  Charlemont,  who  sedulously  attended  in 
the  duties  of  his  presidency,  had  suffered  much  from  close 
confinement.  Mr.  Flood,  having  carried  the  resolution 
for  adopting  his  plan  of  reform,  to  the  astonishment  of 
Lord  Charlemont  and  the  other  friends  of  moderation,  he 
rose  in  the  assembly  on  the  afternoon  6f  Saturday,  No* 
vember  29th,  and  proposed  that  he  himself,  accompanied 
by  such  members  of  parliament  as  were  then  ^  present, 
should  go  down  to  the  house  of  commons,  and  move  leave 
for  a  bill  for  parliamentary  reform,  precisely  correspond- 
ing with  the  plan  he  had  submitted — *^  and  that  the  con- 
vention should  not  adjourn  till  the  fate  of  his  motion  was 
ascertained."  Here  was  a  complete  avowal  of  a  delibera- 
tive assembly,  co-existing  with  the  parliament,  and  almost 
assuming  co-extensive  authority.  The  motion,  however, 
was  carried : — Lord  Charlemont  and  his  friends  saw  the 
rashness  and  impropriety  of  such  a  step;  but  Mr.  Flood's 
ascendency  at  that  time  bore  down  all  opposition.  He 
hurried  to  the  house  of  commons,  and  proposed  his  motion 
for  adopting  his  plan.  The  aspect  of  the  house  was  truly 
awful.  Several  of  the  minority,  and  all  the  delegates  who 
came  with  Mr.  Flood  from  the  convention,  were  in  mili- 
tary uniform. — A  most  tumultuous  debate  ensued,  which 
before  morning  became  almost  a  tempest;  but  Mr.  Flood's 
motion  was  lost  upon  the  division,  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
nine  against  one  hundred  and  seventy-seven,  and  this  was 
followed  by  a  declaratory  determination  of  the  house  to 
maintain  its  just  rights  and  privileges  against  any  encroach- 
ment whatever.  A  vote  for  an  address  to  the  throne  was 
afterwards  carried,  as  the  joint  address  of  both  houses, 
expressive  of  perfect  satisfaction  in  his  majesty's  govern- 
ment, and  a  determination  to  support  it  with  their  livet 
and  fortunes. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  convention  having  sat  above  two 


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CAULFIELD.  433 

hoars  without  any  intelligence  from  Mr.  Flood,  Lord 
Charlemont,  suspecting  what  would  be  the  fate  of  that 
gentleman's  motion,  and  anxious  to  prevent  any  new  error, 
prevailed  on  them  to  adjourn  till  the  following  Monday. 
There  was  a  numerous  meeting  on  the  intermediate  Sun- 
day, at  Charlemont  House,  whereat  it  was  agreed,  that  the 
public  peace  should  be  the  first  object  of  attention ;  his  lord- 
ship received  numerous  messages  from  delegates  of  whom 
be  had  scarce  any  personal  knowledge,  that  they  were 
ready  to  follow  him  in  any  measure  he  should  propose. 
On  the  Monday  morning  he  took  the  chair  at  an  early 
hour.  A  delegate  rose  and  began  to  inveigh  against  th6 
house  of  commons.  His  lordship  instantly  called  the 
delegate  to  order,  observing,  that  one  of  the  wisest  rules 
of  parliamentary  proceedings  was  never  to  take  notice  in 
one  house  of  what  was  said  in  another.  This  had  the 
desired  effect,  and  promoted  order  and  harmony  through 
the  day. 

Lord  Charlemont's  own  plan  at  the  original  meeting  of 
the  convention,  was  to  prevent  all  intercourse  between  pap- 
liamentand  that  assembly ;  and  that  the  delegates  having 
once  agreed  to  a  plan  of  reform,  the  convention  should  be 
dissolved,  and  that  the  delegates  should  then  lay  before 
their  respective  county  meetings,  regularly  convened,  the 
plan  agreed  on,  in  order  that  the  subject  should  be  sub- 
mitted through  their  representatives  in  dutiful  petitions 
to  parliament.  This  was  certainly  the  most  unexception- 
able mode  of  proceeding,  but  Mr.  Flood's  genius  prevailed 
against  it.  It  was  thought  advisable,  however,  that  the 
delegates  should  not  separate  without  some  plan  of  par- 
liamentary reform  still  to  be  kept  in  view.  Two  resok* 
tions  were  therefore  passed  unanimopsly,  declaring  the 
sense  of  the  convention,  that  the  delegates  of  counties, 
cities;  and  towns,  in  conjunction  with  .the  other  freeholders, 
should  forward  the  plan  of  reform  agreed  to  by  the 
assembly,  by  convening  county  meetings  and  instructing 
their  representatives  in  parliament  to  support  it;  and 

VOL.  I.  F  F 


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434  CAULFIELD. 

exhorting  the  nation  to  use  every  constitutioDal  effort  to 
eiFect  that  reform  so  manifestly  necessary. 

An  address  to  his  majesty  was  then  voted,  deotaring 
their  loyalty  to  their  sovereign,  and  their  attachment  to 
Great  Britain  was  thought  the  most  dignified  reply  to 
asperities  east  on  the  assembly  by  some  members  in  par- 
liament. The  address  was  eouohed  in  the  most  datiful 
terms,  and  concluded  with  imploring  his  majesty  that 
their  humble  wish  to  have  certain  manifest  perversions  of 
parliamentary  represratation  in  the  kittgdom^  remedied  by 
the  legislature  in  some  reasonable  degfee,  might  not  be 
imputed  to  any  spirit  of  innovation  in  them ;  but  to  a  sober 
atid  laudable  desire  to  uphold  the  coostitotion,  to  confirm 
the  satisfaction  of  their  fellow-subjects,  and  to  perpetuate 
the  cordial  union  of  both  kingdoms* 

Lord  Charlemont,  fully  aware  of  the  evil  consequence 
to  which  the  longer  continuance  of  such  an  assembly  in 
the  metropolis,  might  be  liable,  wisely  insisted  that  no 
other  business  should  be  proceeded  on,  and  the  oonven- 
tiou  finally  adjourned. 

Thus  terminated  this  memorable  meeting;  and  happy 
WAS  it  for  Ireland,  aod  the  empire,  that  Lord  Cbarlemont 
and  other  noblemen  and  gentlemen  of  his  wise  and  mode- 
rate principles,  bad  sway  enough  to  prevent  the  seeds  of 
anarchy  so  plentifully  sown  by  indiscreet  and  impetnous 
partisans,  from  coming  to  maturity.  The  dissolutioa  of 
the  convention  eixcUed  little  or  no  public  sensation.  To 
above  three-fourths  of  the  population)  namely,  the  catho- 
lie  body,  their  piQoeedings  were  viewed  with  jealousy,  if 
iiot  with  disappointment  and  disgust ;  for  while  tjmt  plaa 
of  reform  talked  of  extending  the  right  of  suffrage  to  the 
possession  of  property  in  every  shape,  and  at  the  same 
tiiae,  to  perpetuate  eocclusion  from  that  sMffrage  to  their 
catholic  couotrymep^  was  a  strage  contradictioo :  and 
thus,  while  they  professed  to.  erect  a  temple  of  general 
freedom  for  the  people,  threes  fourths  of  that  people  were 
to  be  precluded  from  eatering  even  the  vestibule^    The 


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GAULFIELD*  485 

oorlialit]^  mhoA  had  for  some  dme  lubsistedl  between 
liOvd  Charkmotit  ftsd  Lord  NortbtngtoDy  had  considerably 
eooled.  T^  iDtroduetioii  of  John  Scott  (afterwards 
Earl  of  Ctoirmell)|  and  John  Fitzgrbbon  (afterwards  Earl 
of  Clare)  to  power,  had  alienaUd  bis  lordship  from  the 
Ticeroy)  whofii>  on  the  other  hand,  the  coDTeation  had 
alienated  from  Lord  Charlemont,  who  had  continued  bis 
fUtendances  at  the  viceroy's  levee^  after  the  convention 
was  dissolved ;  but  hi»  visits  were  received  with  such  cold 
civility,  that  he  now  decHned  them  entirely.  He  bad 
d6ne  the  state  important  servioea  in  that  very  convention^ 
and  gratitude^  ra^r  than  frowns  and  coldness^  was  the 
due  meed  of  binftself  and  many  of  bis  friendS)  who  acted 
with  him^  and  now  shared  in  the  same  unworthy  tresrt^ 
ment. 

The  coalition  ministry  of  Mr.  Fox  aa«l  Lord  North 
were  soon  removed  from  their  places,  and  Lord  Noithing* 
ton  of  course  from  the  government  of  Ireland,  and  was 
succeeded  by  the  Duke  of  Rutland. 

Early  in  1786,  Lord  Charlemont  was  elec^ted  president  of 
the  Royal  Irish  Academy,  incorporated  under  the  aospicei 
of  his  majesty,  and  to  which  such  a  president  was  both  ail 
honour  and  an  ornament,  as  well  as  an  able  and  active 
promoter  of  its  laudable  purposes,  which  embraced  tb^ 
three  compartments  of  science,  polite  literature,  and  ami** 
quilies*  The  volunteer  army-^tbe  great  objecu  of  its  forma* 
tion  being  now  accomplished,  began  rapidly  to  diminish 
in  its  numbers.  This  circumstanoe  was  observed  by  Lord 
Charlemont;  but  his  solicitude  and  attention  to  them^ 
suffered  no  abatement ;  and  in  this  and  the  following  year 
their  reviews  were  continued,  for  he  was  aware  that  if 
be  relinquished  the  command  of  those  bands,.there  were 
not  wanting  some  who  might  seise  on  that  command^  for 
purposes  not  so  patriotic  as  his  own ;  besides  that,  it  was 
more  wise  to  suffer  those  corps  to  fade  away  tacitly  under 
bis  calm  and  anspidous  rule,  than  that  they  should  receive 
an  angry  and  ill-timed  mandate  from  the  castle,  for  di» 
peraion ;  wbicb^  instead  of  obedience^  might  have  produced 


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436  CAULFIELD. 

a  recal  of  their  old  companions  to  join  their  ranks.  His 
lordship's  military  attentions  were  now  divided  between 
the  volunteers  of  the  metropolis,  and  those  of  the  north — 
And  the  rest  of  his  time  was  filled  up  by  literary  or  personal  - 
intercourse  with  his  friends.  The  country,  with  some  few 
slight  exceptions,  was  now  quiet,  and  began  to  manifest 
the  bappy  effects  of  its  new-born  liberties  by  rapid  ad- 
vances in  agriculture  and  commerce.  After  the  close  of 
the  session  of  1787,  the  Duke  of  Rutland  died,  universally 
lamented,  and  his  remains  were  attended  to  the  sea-side, 
on  their  way  to  England,  with  the  most  honourable  marks 
of  sorrow  and  funereal  respect.  The  Marquis  of  Bucking* 
bam,  formerly  Earl  Temple,  returned  once  more  to  Ireland 
as  viceroy,  and  his  administration  for  some  time  moved 
with  unusual  tranquillity*  On  the  l6th  July,  Lord  Char- 
lemont  once  more  reviewed  the  volunteers  near  Belfast: 
and  at  this  period  the  flames  of  discord  broke  out  in  the 
county  of  Armagh,  of  which  his  lordship  was  governor. 
This  feud  originated  in  a  petty  quarrel  between  two  pres- 
byterians,  in  which  a  Roman  catholic  espoused  one  of  the 
parties.  This  affray  lighted  up  a  religious  war  through 
the  whole  county.  The  protestant  and  presbyterian  par- 
ties assumed  the  appellation  of  Peep-o'-day  Boys/'— and 
the  catholics  that  of  **  Defenders ;"  and  much  blood  was 
spilled.  But  by  the  benign  influence  of  Lord  Charlemont,at 
least  a  temporary  peace  was  restored — but  unfortunately, 
that  peace  was  delusive;  and  the  seeds  of  mutual  hostility 
sown  by  this  quarrel,  afterwards  sprung  forth  with  mis* 
chievous  luxuriance. 

In  the  ensuing  session,  the  most  prominent  topic  which 
occupied  the  discussions  of  parliament,  was  the  question 
of  regency,  arising  from  the  unhappy  illness  of  his  ma- 
jesty. The  arduous  debates  which  took  place  on  thi^ 
occasion  in  both  parliaments,  are  now  matter  of  history, 
and  not  necessary  for  detail  here.  It  will  be  sdfficient  to 
notice,  that  the  two  parliaments  •  materially  differed  from 
each  other.  That  of  England — declared  its  own  power  to 
provide  for  the  temporary  incompetency  of  the  reigning 


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CAULFIELD.  437 

tt&onarch,  and  to  appoint  any  regent  they  thought  fit)  with- 
out being  limited  by  any  considerations  of  the  hereditary 
rights  of  the  heir  apparent;  but,  as  matter  of  discretion, 
they  voted  the  office  to  bis  Royal  Highness  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  with  restricted  authority  :  while  the  parliament  of 
Ireland  asserted  its  own  independence,  and  distinct  power 
of  appointing  a  regent  for  Ireland,  uncontrolled  by  the 
example,  or  the  decisions  of  the  Britith  parliament ;  they 
considered  the  right  of  the  heir  apparent  to  represent  his 
royal  father  during  his  incompetency,  as  paramount  to  all 
other  considerations ;  and  they  voted  the  regency  of  Ireland 
to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  with  the  full  powers  of  the  crown 
to  which  he  was  the  rightful  heir.  Lord  Charlemont 
and  all  his  parliamentary  friends  joined  in  supporting  the 
independence  of  the  parliament  of  Ireland — and  in  voting 
the  regency  unrestricted  to  his  royal  highness.  Their 
object  was  strongly  opposed  by  the  whole  influence  of  the 
viceroy.  An  address  was  moved  to  his  royal  highness,  in 
the  house  of  commons,  by  Mr.  Grattan,  aud  in  the  house 
of  lords  by  Lord  Charlemont — requesting  him  to  assume 
the  government  of  Ireland,  with  the  style  and  title  of 
Prince  Regent,  and  in  the  name  and  behalf  of  his  majesty, 
to  exercise  all  regal  powers  during  his  majesty's  indispo- 
sition, and  no  longer;  and  it  was  carried.  With  this  ad- 
dress both  houses  waited  on  the  lord-lieutenant,  to  request 
its  transmission  to  England.  But  his  excellency  refused 
the  transmission,  as  inconsistent  with  his  official  oath.  A 
vote  of  censure  upon  this  conduct  of  the  viceroy,  passed 
both  houses ;  and  the  lords  delegated  two  of  their  mem- 
bers, the  Duke  of  Leinster,  and  Lord  Charlemont ;  and  the 
commons,  four,  Mr.  John  O'Neal,  Mr.Connoly,  Mrj^  Wil- 
liam Ponsonby,  and  Mr.  James  Stewart,  to  wait  on  his 
royal  highness  with  the  address;  and  they  proceeded  forth- 
with to  London.  But  the  happy  restoration  of  his  ma- 
jesty's health,  terminated  all  further  proceedings  respect- 
ing the  regency  in  both  kingdoms.  The  delegates,  how- 
ever, were  received  by  his  royal  highness  with  the  most 
courteous  expressions  of  the  high  sense  he  felt  of  the 


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«S  CAUtFIELD. 

flattering  marks  of  attadwcot  ^hewn  Mvtt  by  the  parlia- 
ment of  Ireland.  Bnt  this  first  attempt  of  the  Irish  par- 
liament to  exercise  its  new-bom  iadepeadence,  by  differing 
from  that  of  England,  on  a  point  of  so  mnch  importance, 
planted  the  first  germ  of  that  jealousy  in  the  British  cabi- 
net, which  determined  them  to  watch  for  the  first  cobve- 
nient  oppcnrtunity  of  punishing  the  presumption  of  the 
parliament  of  Ireland,  by  extinction:  and  accordingly 
it  afforded  the  great  principle  of  argument  on  which  the 
subsequent  measure  of  legislative  union  was  founded. 

Lord  Buckingham's  resignation  was  a  consequence 
naturally  resulting  from  the  vote  of  censure  on  bis  con- 
duct passed  by  both  bouses  of  pariiament,  and  he  was 
succeeded  in  the  viceroyalty  by  the  Earl  of  Westmoreland, 
with  Lord  Hobart  for  his  secretary.  Lord  Lifford,  the 
chancellor,  died  about  the  same  period,  and  made  way  for 
the  promotion  of  Mr.  John  Pitzgibbon,  attorney-general, 
to  the  seals.  Some  of  the  opponents  of  Lord  Bucking- 
bam,  upon  the  regency  question,  fell  back  quietly  into 
their  old  situations ;  but  several  of  the  more  prominent 
and  formidable  were  dismissed  from  their  situations,  and 
from  tliose  with  their  adherents  was  gradually  formed  an 
opposition,  one  of  the  most  formidable  in  point  of  num- 
bers, respectability,  and  talents,  that  bad  encountered  the 
administration  of  Ireland  for  many  years.  They  farmed 
themselves  into  a  Whig  Club,  adopted  the  blue  and  buff 
uniform,  as  well  as  the  principles  of  the  Whig  Club  in 
England.  In  the  formation  of  this  club,  Lord  Charie- 
mont  was  prominently  acrive,  and  also  in  the  formation  of 
a  similar  club  at  Belfest,  where  his  esteemed  friend  Dr. 
Halliday,  a  whig  of  the  old  constitutional  school,  warmly 
oo-operated  in  his  views.  But  this  was  a  measure  by  no 
means  satisfactory  to  the  ministerial  party,  some  of  whom 
scrupled  not  to  impute  to  both,  principles  of  anarchy. 
But  such  imputations  were  disregarded  as  the  ebullitions 
of  political  rancour,  which  had  been  sustained  from  time 
immemorial  by  similar  associations  of  talent  and  patriotism, 
acting  chiefly,  if  not  solely,  to  protect  the  purity  of  the 


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CAULFIELD.  4» 

comtitatioii  from  ministerial  encroachment*  By  the  mem*- 
bers  of  the  new  Whig  Club  were  proposed,  and  maintained 
with  firmness  and  eloqaence,  a  place  bill,  a  pension  bill^  a 
responsibility  billi  a  bill  toprevent  revenue  officers  from  vot- 
ing at  elections;  friaular  to  those  bills  which  had  long  been 
the  law  of  England.  Session  after  session  were  those  bilk 
resisted  with  effect  by  the  administration  and  its  adherents, 
but  perseverance  at  length  procured  their  adoption.  Lord 
Charlemont  attended  all  the  arduous  debates  of  that  day, 
and  spent  more  of  his  time  in  the  commons  than  in  the 
lordsy  where  EiOrd  Fitzgibbon  began  to  rule  with  almost 
unlimited  sway.  A  principal  ground  of  attack  on  minis- 
ters in  the  house  of  commons^  was  the  creation  of  fourteen 
new  places  for  members  of  parliament^  for  the  purpose  of 
increasing  an  unconstitutional  influence  in  that  house, 
and  conferring  the  honours  of  the  peerage  for  money^ 
which  was  expended  in  the  purchase  of  seats  in  the  lower 
hottsci  For  the  like  unconstitutional  parpose.  This  most 
criminating  charge  was  but  feebly  resisted  by  the  minis- 
terial  party,  who  were  content  to  vindicate  them&efves  by 
recrimination  on  their  opponents,  that  similar  practices 
bad  taken  place  during  Lord  North'ragton's  administration, 
which  some  of  the  leading  members  of  the  present  opposi- 
tion had  advised  and  supported.  The  fact,  however,  serves 
to  shew  the  system  of  expedients  by  which  the  ministers 
of  the  day  were  constrained  to  support  their  influence  in 
parliament;  but  while  the  honours  of  the  peerage  were 
tbas  carried  to  market,  and  sold  to  the  best  bidder,  who 
would  only  pledge  his  support  to  ministers,  it  was  deemed 
necessary  to  wound  the  feelings  of  a  nobleman  who  had 
always  proudly  maintained  the  dignity  of  his  own  here- 
dh»ry  rank,  the  independence  of  Iris  principles,  and  the 
attachment  of  his  country.  Lord  Cbariemont,  whose  an- 
cestors, for  more  than  a  century,  had  held  the  lieutenancy 
of  the  county  of  Armagh,  had  now  joined  with  him  in 
that  office.  Lord  Gosfort,  and  this  without  auy  previous 
inlimation,.er  any  motive  assigned:  for  the  first  intimation 


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440  CAULFIELD. 

to  hit  lordship  of  the  circumstapcei  was  from  a  friend  who 
had  accidentalij  read  the  appointment  in  the  Dublin  Ga* 
2ette.  His  lordship  wrote  immediately  to  the  secretary  of 
the  viceroy,  and  gave  in  his  resignation.  This  measure 
served  to  mark  the  feeling  entertained  at  the  castle  of 
Lord  Charlemont's  political  conduct ;  but  with  his  coun- 
try it  served  to  exalt  still  higher,  the  man  whom  ministers 
meant  to  degrade.  A  meeting  of  the  freeholders  of 
Armagh  assembled,  who  voted  to  his  lordship  a  most 
affectionate  address,  in  which  they  marked  the  indigna- 
tion which  they  felt  for  the  indignity  offered  him,  and  this 
address  was  signed  by  one  thousand  three  hundred  and 
seventy-three  of  the  most  respectable  names. 

The  alarming  progress  of  the  French  revolution^  which, 
after  overturning  the  monarchy  in  France,  menaced  the 
political  systems  of  all  Europe,  had  also  its  influence  upon 
the  state  of  Ireland,  and  the  policy  of  the  British  govern- 
ment, in  relation  thereto.  The  French  revolution  at  its 
outset  had  the  approbation  and  good  wishes  of  many  of  the 
most  loyal  men  in  both  countries,  and  the  proceedings  of 
the  revolutionists,  and  the  discussions  which  took  place  in 
France,  were  read  with  avidity  by  all  classes  of  people  in 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  His  majesty's  ministers  foresaw 
that  from  the  state  of  things  between  the  revolutionists  of 
France  and  the  continental  powers,  England  might  ulti- 
mately be  involved  in  a  war,  if  not  on  her  own  account, 
yet  in  support  of  some  of  her  allies:  and  therefore  the 
good  policy  of  conciliating  all  feelings  of  popular  dis- 
content Ht,  home  must  be  obvious,  on  the  approach  of  a 
crisis  when  the  whole  physical  force  of  the  empire  might 
become  necessary  to  her  own  security.  To  secure  the 
affections  of  the  catholic  population  in  Ireland,  forming 
four-fifths  of  the  whole,  was  a  leading  object.  The  first 
germ  of  this  policy  began  with  a  bill  introduced  in  the 
British  parliament  by  Sir  John  Mitford,  afterwards  Lord 
Redesdale;  and  another  was  introduced  into  the  Irish 
house  of  commons,  by  Sir  Hercules  Langrishe,  a  commts- 


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CAULFIELD.  441 

ftiooer  of  revenue,  and  seconded  by  Mr.  Hobart,  secretary 
to  the  viceroy,  which  proposed  admitting  the  catholic^s  to 
the  profession  of  the  law ;  permitting  their  intermarriage 
with  protestants  ;  removing  the  restrictions  on  their  edu- 
cation, and  the  limitations  on  the  number  of  their  appren- 
tices in  arts  and  manufactures.  On  the  eligibility  of  this 
measure,  the  members  of  the  opposition  were  much  divided. 
Lord  Charlemont  had  all  along  strong  prejudices  against 
any  sudden  relaxation  of  the  penal  statutes ; — such  was  the 
force  of  early  habits.  The  bill,  however,  beside  the  sup- 
port of  that  side  of  the  house  where  it  originated,  had  also 
that  of  many  distinguished  members  of  the  opposition, 
and  it  finally  passed  into  a  law. 

On  the  18th  February,  179^,  a  petition  was  presented 
from  the  catholics  by  Mr.  Egan,  an  opposition  member, 
praying  their  restoration  to  the  elective  franchise,  and  it 
was  ordered  to  lie  on  the  table;  but  on  the  Monday,  ilfr. 
Latouchcj  an  eminent  banker,  and  a  man  of  considerable 
influence  and  character,  moved  that  this  petition  be  re- 
jected. This  motion  was  without  any  previous  notice  to 
the  house,  but  it  produced  a  long  and  most  interesting 
debate,  embracing  the  whole  subject  of  the  catholic  cause, 
and  though  this  motion  was  carried  by  a  majority  of  two 
hundred  and  eight  to  twenty-three,  and  seemingly  extin- 
guished for  ever  all  hopes  of  the  catholics  on  this  ground, 
yet  this  discussion  procured  to  them  many  new  friends, 
who  were  before  their  opponents.  They  persevered,  calmly 
but  firmly,  in  their  objects.  They  took  measures  to  vin- 
dicate their  character  as  a  religious  sect,  by  solemnly 
abjuring  the  obnoxious  tenets  attributed  to  them  by  their 
enemies;  and  refuting  the  imputations  cast  on  their  reli- 
gious and  political  principles.  And  so  rapid  was  the  march 
of  relaxation  in  their  favour,  that  the  very  next  session 
of  parliament  was  opened  by  the  lord-lieutenant  with  a 
speech  from  the  throne,  recommending  to  the  considera- 
tion of  both  houses  the  situation  of  the  catholics ;  and  a 
bill,  granting  to  them  the  elective  franchise,  and  many 
other  indulgences  more  than  they  asked  or  expected, 


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4«  CAULFIELD. 

finally  passed  into  law,  mach  to  the  chagrin  of  many  of 
those  former  opponents  who  had  been  arrayed  against  it 
under  the  ministerial  standard,  and  were  now  obliged  to 
sopport  it  under  the  like  authority.  Even  in  the  house 
of  lords,  Chancellor  Clare,  who  had  been  always  the 
opponent  of  concession,  and  though  on  this  occasion  he 
vehemently  marked  his  own  hostility  to  the  measure,  yet 
he  deprecated  discusston,  and  voted  in  its  support.  Lord 
Charlemont,  whose  prejudices  were  unshaken,  not  only 
voted,  but  entered  bis  protest  against  it.  The  fact  was, 
the  British  government  felt  that  the  conciliation  of  so 
numerous  a  portion  of  the  Irish  people  was  of  more  press- 
ing importance  at  such  a  crisis,  than  to  indulge  and  sanc- 
tion any  longer,  the  antipathies  and  prejudices  of  the  roling 
sect.  And  the  catholics  retired  from  the  doors  of  parlia- 
ment, under  a  full  conviction,  that  they  owed  gratitude 
for  this  boon,  more  to  the  kindness  of  his  majesty  and  the 
British  government,  than  to  the  liberality  of  that  parlia- 
ment, who,  but  the  year  before,  bad  rejected  their  humble 
petition  with  contumely  and  reproach. 

In  the  following  year,  1794,  Lord  Charlemont  sustained 
a  doaaestic  calamity  in  the  loss  of  his  second  sod,  James 
Caulfield,  a  promising  youth  of  seventeen. 

In  the  parliament  this  year,  almost  the  only  circnm- 
stance  worth  notice  that  occurred,  was  the  introduction  of 
a  bill,  by  Mr.  W.  B.  Ponsonby,  on  the  4th  of  March,  to 
impvove  the  representation  c(  the  people  in  parliament,  the 
second  reading  of  which  he  moved  for  the  next  day.  This 
was  warmly  opposed  by  ministers,  who  moved  an  ameod- 
ncAt  for  postponing  the  second  reading  to  the  dnd  of 
August.  The  question,  however,  was  debated  with  great 
ability ;  pcu'Iiamentary  reform  had  long  been  the  cry  of  the 
north  of  Ireland ;  Lord  Charlemont  himself  was  a  warm 
friend  lo  moderate  reform,  but  be  was  extremely  averse  to 
the  principles  of  reform  for  which  the  political  societies  ot 
BeWilst,  echoed  by  dioie  of  IKiUin,  now  began  to  clamour, 
Bamcdy,  «miversal  suffrage  and  aotiual  pariiaments.  The 
bill  iMPoduced  by  Mr.  Poasotift)y  was  to  effect  that  mea* 


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CAULFIELD.  443 

rare  of  modermte  reform  which  the  impartial  of  all  parties 
admitted  to  be  neoestary.    Bat  the  govemmefity  on  this 
occasion^  opposed  the  measare^  on  the  ground  that  it 
uroald  look  like  a  concession  to  the  seditions  damoars 
then  preTalent,  and  Mr.  Grettan,  who  supported  this  bill, 
deprecated,  with  great  eloquence,  the  system  of  reform 
proposed  by  the  United  [rishmen  of  Belfast  and  DnUio,  as 
leading  to  the  subversion  of  all  liberty,  property,  and 
government.    But  Mr.  Poasooby's  motion  was  superseded 
by  the  amendment,  and  some  of  the  ministerialists,  and 
their  partisans  oat  of  doors,  did  not  scruple  to  blend  Lord 
Charlcmonl  and  bis  friends  in  common  es^ation  with 
thq  United  Irishoken,  and  to  impute  to  dieir  parliamentary 
speeches  part  of  the  gprowing  sedition  of  the  country,  for 
no  other  reason  than  that  they  opposed  the  obnoxious 
measures  of  the  government ;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  United  Irishmen  publicly  declared,  that  the  speeches 
aad  debates  of  the  opposition,  and  all  whom  they  could 
i^uence,  were  regarded  by  them  with  indifference :  they, 
in  fact,  regarded  Mn  Ponsonby's  bill  merely  as  a  tempo- 
rary half-measure  to  privilege  their  own  plans ;  and  there- 
fere  they  rejoiced  4n  its  failure.     Happy,  perhaps,  would 
it  have  been  for  the  tranquillity  of  Ireland,  had  this  bill 
succeeded ;  because  it  would  have  amply  satisfied  all  the 
nsoderale  reformists,  and  if  they  did  not  go  far  enon|^  to 
meet  the  views  of  others,  it  would  at  least  hate  shewn 
that  the  government  and  parliament  were  not  decidedly 
opposed  to  feforva  in  all  shapes,  but  would  have  given  an 
e&r%st  -of  disposition  to  gratify  the  reasonable  wishes 
of  the  country,  which  might  be  forther  extended  in  a 
fbtwre  session,  and  thus  even  the   most  damovous  for 
total  reform  would  have  been,  at  least,  divided ;  bvt  the 
rejection  of  this  moderate  measure  streogthened  the  •cause 
of  the  United  Irisbaen,  and  furnished  their  leaders  widi 
an  irrefragible  argument,  that  they  must  never  hence  look 
to  the  garernment  or  the  parliameDt  for  any  further 
redress  of  polilicsl  grievances,  but  seek  it  from  their  own 
nnnbers  and  revolntioMry  moveaicnls.    An  aw<iil  ctisis 


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444  CAULFIELD. 

was  fast  approachiogi  which  was  greatly  accelerated  by 
the  traitorous  obstinacy  oF  government  in  resisting  all 
measures  of  conciliation  towards  popular  feelings.  The 
old  system  of  sectarious  division  had  long  subsided,  and 
the  two  great  bodies  of  dissenters,  the  presbyterians  and 
catholicsi  long  hostile  to  each  other  from  religious  pre- 
judices, were  now  become  6rm  allies  in  political  interest. 
The  former,  in  the  north,  avowed  themselves  the  devoted 
friends  of  total  emancipation  to  the  catholics ;  and  the 
latter,  in  the  south,  east,  and  west,  pledged  themselves  to 
unite  with  the  former  in  their  efforts  for  parliamentary 
reform ;  and  never  to  lose  sight  of  those  two  great  objects 
so  indispensable  to  their  mutual  views  for  the  freedom  and 
prosperity  of  the  country.  Indeed  every  sympton  of  reli- 
gious antipathy  had  been  rapidly  subsiding  in  tlie  country 
from  1782;  which  circumstance  was  viewed  with  alarm 
by  the  old  partisans  of  division;  and  an  attempt  made  in 
the  north  to  revive  the  system.  An  opportunity  was 
offered  by  the  revival  of  an  old  religious  quarrel,  which  has 
been  before* mentioned,  and  which  was  then  calmed  by  the 
influence  of  Charlemont.  It  recommenced  in  a  desperate 
cudgel  fight,  between  some  catholic  peasants  and  weavers 
and  some  protestants  and  dissenters  of  the  same  class,  at  a 
funeral ;  and  so  far  from  being  put  down  by  the  inter- 
ference and  authority  of  the  magistrates^  there  was  strong 
grounds  to  believe  it  was  rather  fomented  by  many  of 
them.  Numerous  and  desperate  pitched  battles  were 
fought.  The  protestant  party,  under  the  assumed  appel- 
lation  of  Peep-o'-day  Boys,  attacked  the  houses  of  the 
catholics  at  night,  broke  open  their  doors,  destroyed  their 
looms  and  little  furniture,  and  abused  their  wives  and 
daughters.  The  catholics  armed  for  their  defence  under 
the  name  of  Defenders ;  and,  the  former  party  being  ulti* 
mately  victorious,  commenced  this  short  system  of  expul- 
sion to  their  antagonists.  A  placard  was  affixed  in  the 
night  on  the  door  of  the  catholic,  in  these  words,— ^  To 
heU,  or  Comuuight^  in  three  days"  And,  if  he  failed  to 
obey  this  manifesto,  his  honse  was  pulled  down,  bis  pro-. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CAULFIELD.  445 

\mnj  deiuoyed,  his  looms  and  farniture  bonit,  and  his 
family  fled  by  the  light  of  the  flames  to  seek  some  other 
asylnm  until  they  could  escape  from  the  province.  The 
unfortunate  fugitives^  with  their  half  naked  wives  and 
ebildreUy  explored  their  way  to  Connaught  and  Munster, 
the  catholic  provinces;  and^  as  they  begged  their  sus- 
tenance on  the  journey,  told  their  tales  of  woe,  exciting 
the  sympathy  and  resentment  of  their  catholic  brethren. 
This  migration  to  the  west  and  south,  received  a  new  con- 
struction from  the  protestant  magistrates  and  gentry  of 
those  provinces,  namely  that  the  popish  defenders  of  the 
north  were  marching  to  cut  their  throats ;  and  immedi- 
ately the  houses  of  the  catholic  peasantry  were  searched 
for  arms,  and  their  pitchf(|*k8,  scythes,  reaping  hooks, 
and  othefr  manual  instruments  of  husbandry  taken  away, 
as  weapons  of  massacre.  Such  a  severity,  wholly  unpro- 
voked by  any  symptom  of  disloyalty  or  tumult;  and  from 
their  protestant  landlords,  magistrates,  and  neighbours, 
naturally  produced  alarm  amongst  those  poor  ignorant 
persons,  and  roused  them  to  a  fellow-feeling  with  the 
northern  defenders,  hundreds  of  whom  daily  attested  to 
them  the  cruelties  they  had  experienced  previous  to  their 
expulsion  from  their  native  homes ;  and  hence  the  source 
of  defenderism,  nightly  meetings,  secret  oaths,  plunder  for 
arms,  and  seditious  conspiracies,  which,  in  succession, 
every  where  began  to  infest  the  whole  country;  and 
which  were  met  on  the  other  side  by  severe  laws,  domi- 
ciliary visits,  military  executions,  and  arbitrary  transpor- 
tations, without  the  semblance  of  law,  or  form  of  trial, 
carried  on  at  midnight,  by  the  magistrates  of  the  country, 
aided  by  parties  of  horse  and  foot. 

These  transactions  were  detailed  with  the  most  aggra- 
vating comments. 

The  combustibles  already  collected  in  the  country  ftom 
the  details  of  the  Frencl^  revolution  and  French  victories; 
from  the  proceedings  of  the  corresponding  society  in 
England;  and  from  the  wide  and  gratuitous  distribution 
of  Tom  Paine's  Rights  of  Man,  to  the  number  of  some 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


446  CAULFIELD. 

hundred  thoilsuds,  cavghl  fire  frbm  new  ii^bumatory 
sources.  The  old  Tolunteer  army  had  long  faUeo  todecaj« 
Id  the  norths  Lord  Cbarlemonti  whoae  voice  bad  ao  k»g 
operi^ted  as  a  pacific  charm,  bad  now  lost  all  itifl«eiice» 
In  the  metropolisy  and  various  parts  of  the  conntrj,.  a  few 
detached  armed  companies  associated  under  the  appeik* 
tion  of  volunteers^  onder  the  direction  o£  some  of  the  most 
democratical  leaders  of  the  old  corps^  and  especidly  Joincf 
Napfn&r  Tandy ;  who  then  occupied  his  Sandajs  in  mar 
ncBuvering  those  brigades  in  the  fields  ronnd  the  metco* 
polls.  They  wore  uniforms  quite  different  from  those  of 
tkt  king's  uoops ;  and  some  of  the  corps  adopted  mottoes 
and  emblems  but  too  significant  of  the  political  principles 
of  the  wearers*  A  militia  law  bad  passed  in  the  eountry ; 
but  still  the  petty  volunteer  corps  increased  to  such  a 
degree  that  they  were  at  length  suppressed  by  a  procla- 
mation from  the  castle,  and  a  new  corps  were  organised 
under  the  auspices  of  government,  under  the  appellatioo 
of  yeomanry ;  furnished  indeed  with  arms  and  accoutre- 
ments Jby  the  government,  but  clothed  at  their  own  ex- 
pense ;  and  to  be  paid  when  called  on  actual  service.  la 
this  state  of  affairs^  the  United  Irishmen  continued  to  ex- 
tend their  influence,,  to  increase  their  numbers^  and  adr 
minister  their  oath ;  while  an  opposite  party  of  politiciani^ 
professing  the  most  ardent  attachment  to  the  constitution 
in  church  and  state,  assembled  in  various  parta  of  the 
country,  under  the  denomination  of  OratigeLodges^  bound 
to  each  other  by  solemn  and  mysterious  oatba.  And  the 
mntual.  antipathy  of  both  daily  increased. 

During  this  state  of  things,  an  important  increase  was 
given  to  the  British  cabinet,  (torn  whose  consultations  it 
was  determined  that  some  immediate  measures  should  be 
taken  to  calm  the  perturbed  spirits  of  Ireland  j  and  it  was 
finally  resolved  to  send  Earl  Fitzwilliam  as  the  harbinger 
of  amity  and  peace.  The  arrival  of  that  nobleman  was 
hailed  with  general  joy,  as  that  of  a  minister  from  heaven. 
Mr.  Grattan  and  Mr.  Ponsonby  were  called  to  his  coun- 
cils :  both  had  been  previously  sununoned  to  Gngland,  in 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CAULFIELD.  447 

order  for  coosnltatioa  with  them  as  to  the  measures  which 
would  be  most  likely  to  satisfy  the  wishes  of  their  country ; 
and  on  their  return,  and  previously  to  the  arrival  of  Eari 
Fitzwiiliam,  it  was  confidently  signified,  that  the  fatal 
abrogation  of  the  remaining  penal  laws  against  the  catho- 
lics, and  a  moderate  reform  in  pailiament,  shonld  be 
adopted  ;*^meQsures  wbicfa  would  at  once  have  silenced  aU 
elamonr  ai>d  calmed  every  discontents  Upon  the  first 
meeting,  of  parliament,  Mr.  Grattan,  in  his  place,  an^ 
nounced  the  objects  of  Lord  FitzwilHam's  mission ;  and 
shortly  afterwards  moved  an  address  to  the  lord^Iieatenant, 
and  <^>tained  from  parliament,  as  a  proof  of  national  gt»- 
titnde,  a  vote  of  three  millions  in  support  of  the  war  against 
France. 

Several  members,  and  especially  Sir  Lawrence  Parsons, 
decidedly  rejected  to  the  precipitancy  with  which  the 
house  was  about  to  pass  this  measure,  and  advised  them 
to  defer  the  gift  until  they  were  sure  of  the  boon  for 
which  it  was  given ;  but  his  objections  were  treated  as 
illiberally  suspicious,  and  were  borne  down  by  tha  popu- 
larity of  the  new  chief  governor,  and  the  implicit  reliance 
placed  in  the  sincerity  of  the  British  cabinet.  The  vote 
therefore  passed;  but  before  it  had  finally  proceeded 
through  both  houses,  a  rOHiour  prevailed  that  Earl  Fitss- 
william  was  to  be  recalled,  for  that  he  had  greatly  exceeded 
faia  instructions  in  the  pledges  held  oot  to. the  Irish  parlia- 
ment; and  this  rumour  was  very  speedily  verified  by  the 
publication  of  a  correspondence  on  the  subject  between 
Earl  Fitzwilliam  and  Lord  Carlisle ;  and  he  was  actually 
recalled.  The  joy  of  the  country  was  suddenly  changed 
to  astonishment  and  despondency.  The  day  of  his  depar- 
ture was  a  day  of  sorrow  in  the  metropolis;  and  his  pro- 
gress to  the  water  side  had  all  the  appearance  of  a  funereal 
procession.  Lord  Camden  came  as  his  successor,  with 
Mr.  Peiham  as  secretary,  to  perform  the  ungracious  ofllice 
of  refosing  all  the  measures  held  out  for  bis  predecessor. 
He  was  greeted  by  the  populace  with  marked  indignation. 
Mr.  Grattan  now,  with  his  friends,  returned  to  tlie  ranks 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


448  CAULFIELD. 

of  opposition,  brought  forward  his  bill  for  the  total  Eman- 
cipation of  the  catholics.  It  was  indignantly  and  de- 
cidedly resisted  by  Mr.  Pelham^  who  declared  that  con- 
cession to  the  catholics,  which  had  already  gone  to  the 
utmost  lengthy  consistent  with  safety  to  a  protestaut  state, 
must  stop  somewhere;  and  here  he  would  plant  his  foot, 
and  resist  its  further  progress.  An  arduous  debate  ensued, 
which  was  continued  till  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
ended  in  the  loss  of  the  bill. 

This  event  was  a  decisive  specimen  of  total  departure 
from  the  conciliatory  system  of  which  Lord  Fitzwilliam 
came  as  the  harbinger ;  it  confirmed,  at  once,  the  influence 
of  the  United  Irishmen  over  the  great  mass  of  the  popu- 
lation ;  it  gave  new  force  to  the  machinations  of  the  sedi- 
tious ;  and  accelerated  the  revolutionary  burst,  long  ap- 
prehended from  the  combustibles  for  years  in  preparation. 
From  that  day  forth,  all  the  machinery  of  sedition  was 
set  in  motion  on  the  one  hand ;  opposed  on  the  other,  by 
severe  laws  and  arbitrary  measures  of  coercion,  which, 
instead  of  suppressing,  served  but  to  feed  the  flame.  The 
government  could  not  be  blind  to  the  volcanic  symptoms 
perceivable  on  all  sides ;  but  could  never  come  to  a  full 
discovery  of  the  whole  plot,  until,  by  mere  accident,  on 
the  very  eve  of  explosion,  a  chief  conspirator  was  induced 
to  betray  his  associates.  In  consequence  of  which  they 
were  seized  in  full  council,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  metro- 
polis, within  a  day  or  two  of  the  intended  general  insur- 
rection throughout  the  whole  country ;  but  although  this 
seizure  of  the  chiefs  defeated  the  plan  of  an  immediate 
and  general  explosion,  it  accelerated  a  partial  rebellion, 
which  instantly  broke  out,  and  raged  for  nearly  three 
months  with  incessant  and  sanguinary  fury.  A  few  of  the 
chief  conspirators  in  custody  were  executed ;  and  the  rest, 
seeing  their  grand  scheme  utterly  defeated,  purchased  their 
lives  by  a  full  discovery  of  their  whole  plan,  force,  and 
preparations,  to  a  secret  committee  of  parliament,  which, 
in  point  of  extent,  surpassed  all  previous  conception,  and 
Astonished  both  the  government  and  senate.  Tberebellioa 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CAULFIELD.  449 

wfis  still  going  on  in  various  counties.  Mr.  Pelham  retired 
to  England,  leaving  Lord  Castlereagh  at  first  as  his  tem- 
porary substitute  ;  but  shortly  after  that  young  nobleman 
avowed  himself  as  his  successor  in  the  secretaryship  to  his 
maternal  uncle,  Lord  Camden«  The  flames  of  civil  war 
raged  every  where  unabated  ;  and,  finally.  Lord  Camden 
was  recalled,  and  a  military  chief  governor,  Lord  Corn* 
walKs,  sent  in  his  stead.  The  rebel  armies  being  at  last 
disconcerted,  Lord  Comwallis,  as  the  best  mode  to  stem 
the  further  effusion  of  blood,  loyal  as  well  as  rebellious, 
proclaimed  an  amnesty  and  full  pardon  to  all  the  rebels 
who  should  within  a  month  lay  down  their  arms,  swear 
allegiance,  and  return  to  their  homes.  This  had  the  im- 
mediate effect  of  terminating  the  conflict;  but  not  the 
private  vengeance  of  the  victorious  loyalists,  still  smarting 
under  their  calamities  and  the  slaughter  of  their  friends. 
But  Lord  Comwallis,  thechief  object  of  whose  mission  was 
the  restoration  of  peace,  and  the  re-establishment  of  law 
and  justice,  announced  his  determination  of  punishing 
with  equal  severity  the  aggressions  of  parties  on  all  sides; 
and  strictly  denounced  all  emblems  and  ensigns  of  party 
principles,  as  calculated  only  to  excite  new  hostilities  and 
perpetuate  mutual  vengeance. 

The  French  government,  desirous  of  aiding  the  insur- 
gents, had  dispatched  an  expedition,  consisting  of  a  ship 
of  the  line  and  seven  frigates,  with  a  body  of  troops 
ofllicered  in  a  great  degree  by  Irishmen,  toeffect  a  landing 
in  Ireland.  Of  this  number  only  seven  hundred  men,  un- 
der the  command  of  General  Humbert,  landed  at  Killala, 
where,  by  arraying  in  French  uniforms  and  arms  great 
numbers  of  the  rebellious  peasantry,  and  propagating  ex- 
aggerated statements  of  their  real  force,  they  threw  the 
,icountry  into  much  alarm  for  about  three  weeks.  Lord 
Comwallis,  however,  marched  against  them,  collecting  in 
bis  way  such  troops  as  could  be  spared  from  garrisons,  to 
the  amount  of  fifteen  thousand  men ;  and  general  H  um- 
bert,  and  his  whole  force,  after  a  short  action,  surrendered 
prisoners  of  war.     On  another  part  of  the  coast,  namely, 

VOL,   I.  GO 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


4M  CAULFIELD. 

Katlaiul/  in  the  coonty  of  SIigo>  tbe  notedJaroesNapper 
Tandy,  as  a  French  general  of  diirbiofiy  landed  with  a  fejr 
partisans,  to  ascertain  the  probabilities  of  sopport  from  tbe 
population  of  that  part  of  the  country ;  but  quickly  re* 
embarked  to  join  some  of  his  dispersed  squadrons,  and 
was  afterwards  seized  in  neutral  territory  and  sent  prisoner 
to  Ireland.  Mr.  Theobald  Wolfe  Tone^  an  Irish  barrister, 
was  found  as  a  French  officer  on  board  another  ship  of 
the  squadron  taken  by  some  of  the  British  fleet,  and  sen" 
•tenced  to  death  by  a  court-martial  in  Dublin,  but  destroyed 
bimself. 

During  the  whole  rebellion  the  parliament  continued 
sitting;  and,  on  its  prorogation,  received  the  thanks  of 
General  Cornwallis  in  his  speech  from  the  throne. 

Internal  peace  being  now  restored,  the  country,  though 
smarting  under  the  wounds  of  civil  war,  was  pcfrmitted 
to  take  some  repose ;  from  which,  however,  it  was  soon 
roused  by  the  alarming  rumour  of  an  intended  proposi* 
tion  for  a  legislative  union  with  England.  This  rumour 
was  soon  verified  by  the  avowal  of  government.  This 
excited  new  irritation,  even  amongst  the  warmest  firienda 
of  the  castle ;  and  was  attacked  in  limine,  as  a  measure  of 
the  grossest  ingratitude  and  treachery,  on  the  part  of  the 
British  cabinet.  The  question  was  discussed  by  anticipa- 
tion  in  a  war  of  pamphlets  and  newspapers,  popular  meet- 
ings, speeches,  and  resolutions.  Lord  Cornwallis  actually 
made  a  summer  circuit  to  the  southward,  to  collect  the 
sentiments  of  the  country  upon  the  subject,  and  stimulate 
the  local  infiuenoe  of  the  friends  of  government  in  sup- 
port of  the  measure.  It  would  exceed  our  limits  to  detail 
the  variety  of  pretences  artfully  insinuated  to  render  the 
attempt  palateable  to  the  different  quarters,  parties,  and 
classes  in  the  country.  The  incompetence  of  an  Irish 
parliament  to  maintain  peace  and  contentment  in  the 
country,  and  the  great  advantage  to  Ireland  of  a  perfect 
identification  with  England  in  all  the  blessings  of  com- 
merce, constitution,  power,  and  prosperity,  fonned  tbe 
vanguard  of  the  proposaL    Tbe  consequent  prosperity  of 


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CADLFIELD.  451 

i^;riciilttti«y  mamilacUires,  and  commerce)  came  next;  and 
while  the  metropolis  was  to  be  the  emporiom  of  British 
intercoursei  erery  other  outport  was  flattered  with  the  pros- 
pect of  flourbbing  on  the  deoajr  of  maritime  comnierce 
in  the  metropolis.     The  catholic  body  were  told  that 
their  oMsplete  emancipation,  and  admission  to  the  repre- 
sentative franchise,  which  they  mnst  never  hope  to  attain 
from  an  Irish  parliament,  would  immediately  follow  the 
estaUsshment  of  an  union ;  whik^  on  the  other  band,  the 
enemies  of  the  catholics  were  told  that  an  imioD  was  the 
only  measure  by  which  the  catholios  coold  be  prev-ented 
irom  forcing  their  way  into  parliament,  and  effecting  tbe 
JubversloQ  of  chnrch  aad  state.    The  timid  were  told  that 
union  was  the  only  resource  left  to  terminate  the  struggles 
of  hoatile  parties,  and  prerent  the  vecurrence  of  civil  war; 
and  tbe  bold  and  adventuroos,  who  stickled  for  their  indo- 
pendeat  parliament  in  Ireland,  as  the  great  lotteiy  for 
promotions  to  place,  power,  and  tafliieace,  were  told  ithat 
union  was  the  rapid  road  to  those  advaatages,  as  it  would 
ihrow  open  to  ^em  and  their  £Hnilies  a  participalioQ  in 
all  tbe  blessings  of  patronage,  over  theertensire  mage  of 
imperial  dominion.   British  manufacturers  with  enor HiMii 
capitals,  tempted  by  the  aeoarity  of  consolidated  govern- 
ments, were  to  cro«d  into  Ireland,  enrich  tbe  oountry, 
giye  employment  and  civilization  to  her  incteaving  popu- 
lation, mid  rival  their  native  England  m  ^commerce  with 
the  world. 

Parliament  at  length  met.  The  subjedt  was  Bseoiaened 
in  the  viceroy's  speech ;  aad^  notwithstMkdiRg  the  general 
irritation  excited  out  t>f  doors,  and  tbe  vengeful  clamour 
xff  some  pacttsans  in  tbe  eeuate,  the  then  youthful  etatea- 
man,  Lovd  Oaatlereagh^  bvou^hi  forward  the  proposition 
for  consideration  in  tbe  boose  of  commons.  His  lordship, 
itk  the  course  of  his  speech,  did  not  ooofine  himself  to  a 
etatement  >of  the  advantages  polilical,  commercial,  and 
aodfal,  likely  to£oUow  ioibiseoutttry  from  an  identification 
with  Engkdd,  but  proceeded  to  argue  that  the  fottd 
Aeattfs  of «  distinct  and  iodepeodettt  pacliament,   and 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


45«  CAULFIELD. 

kiDgdom^  8o  long  cherished  by  the  patriots  of  1782,  as  the 
proud  triumph  of  their  struggles,  and  the  peaceful  achieve- 
ment of  tlieir  volunteer  army,  was  in  fact  but  a  mere  airy 
delusion,  a  perfect  anomaly  in  the  imperial  government  of 
two  distinct  islands  conjoined  under  the  same  crown,  and 
containing  in  its  own  womb  the  embryo  of  perpetual  con- 
flict and  ultimate  separation,  as  was  clearly  proved  by  the 
result  of  the  regency  question  some  few  years  before, 
when  the  parliament  of  Ireland  were  totally  at  variance 
upon  a  vital  question  with  that  of  England ;  and  might  on 
the  recurrence  of  a  similar  occasion,  assert  its  independent 
right  of  differing  in  the  choice  of  the  person,  as  well  as 
the  power  to  be  given,  to  a  regent  representative  of  the 
crown* 

The  debate  was  arduous,  and  continued  till  ten  next 
morning;  but,  upon  the  division  which  took  place,  the 
numbers  were  so  nearly  equal  that  the  proposition  wi^ 
carried  only  by  the  majority  of  a  single  vote.  The  debate 
was  renewed  gn  the  report  of  the  address  the  next  even- 
ing, and  the  minister  was  left  in  a  minority,— one  hundred 
and  six  to  one  hundred.  Upon  the  first  debate  in  the 
house  of  lords,  forty-six  voted  for  entertaining  the  mea- 
sure, and  only  nineteen  against  it.  The  country  triumphed 
in  this  defeat  as  a  complete*  and  final  victory^  but  the 
triumph  was  but  temporary.  Before  the  next  session 
the  treasury  wrought  miracles,  and  the  measure  was 
carried. 

But,  as  to  the  accomplishment  of  those  splendid  pre- 
dictions of  national  happiness  and  prosperity  so  speciously 
held  out  as  the  certain  consequences  of  the  union,  the 
experience  of  the  first  twenty  years  has  proved  it  com- 
mensurate to  the  popularity  of  the  noble  viscount,  who 
had  the  proud  honour  of  proposing  the  measure,  and  con- 
ducting it  to  success.  The  people  of  Ireland  have  to  con- 
template a  strange  coincidence  in  their  national  fortunes 
under  the  auspicious  influence  of  the  Stewarts,  For  their 
loyalty  to  the  last  British  monarch  of  that  name,  three- 
fonrths.of  tbein  suffefed  near  a  century  of  confiscation* 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CAULFIELD.  455 

proscriptioDy  disfranchisement,  degradation^  and  vassalage; 
while  the  other  fourth  secured  to  themselves  the  extensive 
monopoly  of  parliamentary  power,  office,  and  emolument 
in  church  and  state,  for  their  valorous  attachment  to  the 
house  of  Brunswick,  By  the  instrumentality  of  another 
scion  of  the  noble^  though  not  royal  house  of  Stewart, 
after  the  lapse  of  a  century,  the  Irish  parliament  itself  was 
extinguished,  for  its  presumptuous  loyalty  and  attachment 
to  an  illustrious  descendant  of  the  same  house  of  Brunswick, 
heir-apparent  to  these  realms;  and  its  memory  only  pre- 
served by  a  remnant  of  one  third  of  its  number  trans- 
ported, like  a  condemned  regiment,  to  represent  the  repre*- 
sentation  of  Ireland  in  another  country. 

We  now  return  to  Lord  Charlemont,  whose  mind  was 
long  tortured  with  sorrow  for  the  unhappy  conflicts  of  his 
country,  and  whose  years  and  ill  health  obliged  him  to 
continue  little  more  than  a  silent  spectator  of  the  mis- 
chief  he  had  so  long  and  so  zealously'  struggled  to  averts 
Lord  O'Neill,  Lord  Mountjoy,  and  many  of  his  most  valued 
friends,  had  fallen  in  the  defence  of  the  government  and 
constitution  of  their  country.  Parliament  had  been  pub- 
licly thanked  By  the  viceroy  for  its  vigilant  and  successful 
aid  in  putting  down  the  rebellion;  and,  what  was  now 
to  be  the  remuneration  to  that  parliament,  and  of  the 
brave  loyalists,  who  had  shed  their  blood  and  suffered  so 
many  calamities  in  defence  of  the  state  i — why,  extinction 
to  the  one ;  and  to  the  other,  abrogation  of  their  rights, 
privileges,  and  independence. 

On  the^  first  rumour  of  this  measure,  his  lordship, 
waited  on  Lord  Cornwallia,  and  feeling  it  his  duty,  as 
an  hereditary  counsellor  of  the  crown,  stated  his  reasons 
at  length  for  deprecating  most  earnestly  a  project,  which, 
so  far  from  consolidating  the  strength,  affections,  re* 
sources,  and  interesu  of  both  kingdoms,  would  directly 
contribute  more  than  any  other  to  a  separation  of  two 
countries,  the  perpetual  connection  of  which  was  one  of 
the  most  ardent  wishes  of  his  heart.  The  viceroy  politely 
received  bis  counsel|  and  expressed  his  confidence  that  it 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


454  CENTUVRE. 

was  foonded  on  the  best  motiTefty  but  declined  attb«t 
time  any  explication  on  tbe  project,  which  soon  became 
tineqai  vocal.  Lord  Charlemoot  exulted  in  the  first  dietary 
over  the  ministers  in  the  first  session,  although  he  did  not 
rely  on  it  as  quite  decisive;  bat  henceforward  his  health 
more  rapidly  declined.  He  was  the  continued  victim  of 
disease;  and  his  valuable  life,  though  obviously  verging 
to  its  close,  was  occupied  to  the  last  in  eflbrfs  for  hb 
country.  Not  quite  eighteen  years  had  now  elapsed 
since  he  bad  triumphed  in  esublishing  the  constitutional 
independence  of  his  country.  That  independence  which 
he  had  cherished  in  its  cradle,  he  now  feared  he  mast 
shortly  follow  to  its  grave,  for  its  existence  hung,  like  his 
own,  by  a  feeble  thread.  His  vital  powers  hourly  decayed. 
His  appetite  ceased;  his  limbs  swelled  ;  and  it-  was  evi- 
dent to  his  friends,  whose  visits  be  received  aa  long  as  his 
disorder  would  permit,  that  his  dissolution  was  fast  ap- 
proaching. He  did  not  live  to  see  the  completion  of  the 
measure  he  so  much  deprecated;  the  hand  of  death  pre* 
vented  him  that  anguish.  On  the  4th  of  Augos^  1799,  be 
expired,  at  Charlemont  House,  Dublin,  in  the  seventietb 
year  of  his  age ;  and  his  remains  were  conveyed  to  his 
family  vault,  in  the  ancient  cathedral  of  Armagh. 

Thus  terminated  the  existence  of  one  of  the  best  men 
and  truest  patriots  that  ever  adorned  any  country ;  be- 
queathing to  his  posterity  an  illustrious  example  for  their 
imitation,  and  to  his  native  land  the  memory  of  bis  virtues 
as  an  imperishable  monument. 


SUSANNAH  CENTUVRE, 
A  DRAMATIC  writer  of  great  and  deserved  celebrity,  is 
asserted  by  some  of  her  biographers  to  have  been  born  in 
Lincolnshire;  but  it  being  infinitely  more  probable,  from 
the  following  circumstances,  that  she  drew  her  first  breath 
*'  in  the  Isle  of  Erin,"  we  have  taken  the  liberty  of  admi^ 
ting  her  into  this  work. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  a  Mr.  Freeman,  a  gentlemu 


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CENTLIVRE.  4W 

of  Holbeacb,  in  Liocoloshire.  Her  fatber  bad  been  po»* 
sessed  of  an  cttate  of  no  iocoDBiderable  valae^  but,  beiog 
a  dissenter,  and  baring  discovered  a  zealous  attachment  to 
the  cause  of  the  Parliament,  was,  at  the  Restoration, 
obliged  to  seek  refuge  in  Ireland,  and  his  estate  was  con* 
sequently  confiscated.  The  mother  of  our  poetess  was 
daughter  of  Mr,  Markham^  a  gentleman  of  fortune  at  Lyma 
Regis,  in  Norfolk,  who  is  represented  as  having  encoun- 
tered sioailar  misfortunes  with  those  of  Mr.  Freeman,  in 
consequence  of  his  f>olitioal  principles,  which  were  the 
same  with  those  of  that  gentleman;  and  he  also  was 
obliged  to  quit  his  native  country,  and  seek  shelter  in  the 
western  isle*  She  is  supposed  to  have  been  born  between 
the  years  1667  and  1680;  and,  from  the  above  statement, 
there  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  Ireland  was  the  spot  ot 
ber  birth«  It  is  true,  Walter  Harris,  in  his  edition  of 
Ware,  does  not  claim  ber  as  an  Irish  writer,  but,  that  she 
is  fully  entitled  to  be  considered  as  such,  is  as  clear,  as  that 
Congreve,  who  is  claimed  by  Harris,  is  not. 

She  discovered,  at  an  early  period,  a  propensity  to 
poetry^  and  is  said  to  have  written  a  song  before  she  had 
attained  her  seventh  year.  She  was  left  an  orphan  at  an 
early  age,  having  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  her  father 
before  she  was  three  years  old,  and  her  mother  before  she 
bad  completed  her  twelfth  year. 

Having  been  treated  with  a  degree  of  harshness,  by 
those  to  whose  care  she  was  committed,  after  the  death  of 
ber  mother,  she  resolved,  whilst  very  young,  to  quit  the 
country,  and  proceed  to  London,  to  seek  her  fortune.  The 
circumstances  of  her  life,  at  this  period,  are  involved  m 
much  obscurity,  and  the  particulars  which  are  recorded 
seem  somewhat  romantic.  It  is  said,  that  she  attempted 
her  journey  to  the  capital  alone,  and  on  foot,  and,  on  bejr 
way  thither,  was  met  by  Anthony  Hammond,  Esq.  father 
of  the  author  of  the  Love  Elegies.  This  gentleman,  wi^o 
was  then  a  member  of  the  University  of  Cambridge,  was 
•track  with  her  youth  and  beauty,  and  offered  to  take  bei 
o^der  his  protection.    Either  be?  distress,  inclination,  or 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


456  CENTLIVRE. 

inexperience,  induced  her  to  comply  with  bis  proposal, 
and  she  accompanied  him  to  Cambridge,  where,  having 
equipped  her  in  boy's  clothes,  he  introduced  her  to  his 
college  intimates  as  a  relation  who  was  come  down  to  see 
the  university,  and  to  pass  some  time  with  him.  Under 
this  disguise,  an  amorous  intercourse  was  carried  on  be- 
tween them  for  some  months,  but,  at  length,  being  pro- 
bably apprehensive  that  the  affair  would  become  known 
in  the  university,  he  persuaded  her  to  go  to  London,  which 
she  agreed  to,  and  he  generously  presented  her  with  a 
considerable  sum  of  money,  and  recommended  her,  by 
letter,  to  a  lady  in  town  with  whom  he  was  well  acquaint- 
ed, assuring  her,  at  the  same  time,  that  he  would  speedily 
follow  her;  this  promise  appears,  however,  not  to  have 
been  performed,  yet,  notwithstanding  her  unfavourable 
introduction  into  life,  she  was  married,  in  her  sixteenth 
year,  to  a  nephew  of  Sir  Stephen  Fox,  who  did  not  live 
more  than  a  twelvemonth  after  their  marriage;  but,  she 
possessing  both  wit  and  personal  attractions,  soon  ob- 
tained the  consolation  of  another  husband,  whose  name 
was  Carrol.  He  was  an  officer  in  the  army,  and  was 
unfortunately  killed  in  a  duel,  about  a  year  and  a  half 
after  their  marriage,  and  she  became  a  second  time  a 
widow.  She  is  represented  as  having  had  a  sincere  attach- 
ment for  Mr.  Carrol,  and,  consequently,  as  having  felt  his 
loss  as  a  severe  affliction. 

It  was  at  this  period  of  her  life  that  she  presented  her- 
self before  the  public  as  a  dramatic  authoress,  to  which 
she  was,  probably,  in  some  degree  induced  by  the  narrow- 
ness of  her  circumstances.  Some  of  her  earlier  pieces 
were  published  under  the  name  of  Carrol.  Her  first  at- 
tempt was  a  tragedy,  entitled  **  The  Perjured  Husband," 
which  was  performed  at  Drnry  Lane  theatre,  in  1700,  and 
published  in  4to.  the  same  year.  In  1703,  she  produced 
a  <!omedy,  called  "  The  Beau's  Duel ;  or,  a  Soldier  for' the 
LadiesV'  and  "  Love's  Contrivance,"  which  is  chiefly  a 
translation  from  Moli^re,  and  the  following  year  another 
comedy,  entitled  *'The  Stolen  Heiress;  or,  the  Salamanca 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CENTLIVRE.  457 

Doctor  outwitted."  lo  1705,  her  comedy  of  **  The 
Gamester"  was  acted  at  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  which'^met 
with  considerable  success,  and  was  afterwards  revived  at 
Drury  Lane.  The  plot  of  this  piece  is  chiefly  borrowed 
from  a  French  comedy,  called  "  Le  Dissipateur."  The 
prologue  was  written  by  Nicholas  Rowe. 

Her  attachment  to  dramatic  amusements  was  so  great, 
that  she  not  only  distinguished  herself  as  a  writer  for  the 
theatre,  but  also  became  a  performer  in  it,  though  it  is  far 
from  probable  that  she  attained  any  great  celebrity  as  an 
actress,  as  she  appears  never  to  have  played  at  the  theatres 
of  the  metropolis.  But  in  1706,  we  are  told  she  acted 
the  part  of  Alexander  the  Great,  in  Lee's  tragedy  of  the 
Rival  Queens,  at  Windsor,  where  the  court  then  was,  and, 
in  this  heroic  character,  she  made  so  powerful  an  impres- 
sion upon  the  heart  of  Mr.  Joseph  Centlivre  (yeoman  of 
the  mouth)  or  principal  cook  to  Queen  Anne,  that  he  soon 
after  married  her,  and  with  him  she  lived  happily  until  her 
decease.  That  this  marriage  was  the  happiest  of  the  three, 
can  easily  be  accounted  for— the  precarious  subsistence 
dependant  on  dramatic  authorship  is  proverbial. 

The  same  year  in  which  she  entered  into  the  matrimo- 
nial state  with  Mr.  Centlivre,  she  produced  the  comedies' 
of  "  The  Basset  Table,"  and  "  Love  at  a  Venture;"  the 
latter  was  acted  by  the  Duke  of  Grafton's  servants,  at  the 
new  theatre  at  Bath ;  and  in  1708,  her  most  celebrated 
performance,  "  The  Busy  Body,"  was  performed  at  Drury 
Lane  theatre.  It  met  at  first  with  so  unfavourable  a  re- 
ception from  the  players,  that,  for  a  time,  they  even  refused 
to  act  in  it,  and  were  not  prevailed  upon  to  comply,  until 
towards  the  close  of  the  season ;  and  even  then  the  cele* 
brated  Wilks  shewed  so  utter  a  contempt  for  the  part  of 
Sir  George  Airy,  as  to  throw  it  down  on  the  stage  at  the 
rehearsal,  with  a  declaration,  **  that  no  audience  would 
endure  such  stuflF:"  but  the  piece  was  received  with  the 
greatest  applause  by  the  audience,  and  still  keeps  posses- 
sion of  the  stage.  In  1711,  she  produced,  at  Drury  Lane 
theatre,  **  Marplot ;   or,   the  Second  Part  of  the  Busy 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


458  CENTLIVRE, 

Body/*  This  play,  thovgb  greatly  iDferior  to  the  format 
met  with  a  favourable  reception,  and  the  Dnke  of  Portlaod, 
to  whom  it  was  dedicated,  made  the  authoress  a  present  of 
forty  guineas*  In  17 17,  her  admirable  comedy  of '^  A 
Bold  Stroke  for  a  Wife/'  was  performed  at  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields.  In  this  play  she  was  assisted  by  Mr*  Mottley, 
who  wrote  a  scene  or  two  entirely.  It  was  extremely 
well  received,  although  Mr.  Wilks  very  cavalierly  de- 
dared,  that  '^  not  only  Mrs.  Centlivre's  play  would  be 
damned,  but  she  herself  would  be  damned  for  writing  it." 

The  above  opinions  of  Mr.  Wilks  ought  to  be  regis* 
tered  in  theatrical  annals,  as  hints  to  those  ladies  and 
gentlemen  of  the  sock  and  buskin,  who  decide  on  the  merit 
of  an  author  by  the  first  ten  lines  they  may  casually  glance 
upon,  and  whose  judgments  are  formed  from  the  opinions 
of  the  property-man  or  prompter  at  the  rehearsal*. 

In  1714,  her  excellent  play  of  "  The  Wonder,  a  Wo- 
man keeps  a  Secret!"  was  acted  at  Drury  Lane  theatre; 
it  was  very  successful,  and  Garrick  threw  a  new  lustre  oa 
it,  by  reviving  it  with  some  judicious  alterations,  and  by 
his  inimitable  performance  of  Don  Felix.  It  has  been 
successively  rendered  popular  by  the  admirable  perform- 
ances of  Mrs.  Jordan,  in  Vioiante,  and  Elliston,  in  Don 
Felix ;  and  still  keeps  possession  of  the  stage. 

Besides  the  dramatic  effusions  which  have  been  already 
mentioned,  she  produced  several  others,  the  titles  of  which 
are  to  be  found  in  the  Biographia  Dramatica. 

She  died  in  Spring  gardens.  Charing  cross,  on  the  1st 
of  December,  17^3,  and  was  buried  at  St.  Martin's  in  the 
Fields.    She  possessed  a  considerable  share  of  beauty,  was 


*  Siace  to  iniieh  has  been  lately  said  relative  to  theatrical  Bianagement, 
we  cannot  forbear  hintiiig,  that  we  oonceiTe  the  theatrei  most  have  been 
Infinitely  better  managed  in  tboee  dayi  than  at  present,  a^  almoftt  e?efy 
piece  produced  was  snccessfiil;  whereas,  ip  the  records  of  bothhous^ 
of  the  present  day,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  any  thing  (with  the  excep* 
lioB  of  pantomimes)  that  has  kept  possession  of  tiie  stage ;  and  truly  has 
their  theatrie  course  been  characterised  by  s  parodist,  who  said,  <'  Tks 
AUiirt  of  to-morrow,  succeeds  nnio  the  condeouuitio9  of  tiHUght'' 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CENTLIVRE.  459 

of  a  friendly  and  benerolent  dtspoailion,  and  in  coofversa- 
tion  was  sprightly  and  entertaining.  Her  literary  acqui- 
sitions appear  to  have  been  merely  the  result  of  her  own 
application,  and  she  is  supposed  to  have  understood  the 
French,  Dutch,  and  Spanish  languages,  and  to  have  had 
some  knowledge  of  the  Latin.  Mrs.  Centlivre  enjoyed, 
for  many  years,  the  intimacy  and  esteem  of  many  of  the 
most  eminent  wits  of  the  time,  particularly  Sir  Richard 
Steele,  Farquhar,  Rowe,  Dr.  Sewell,  and  Eustace  Budgell. 
But  she  had  the  misfortune  to  incur  the  displeasure  of 
Mr.  Pope,  who  introduped  her  into  the  Dunciad,  for  hav- 
ing written  a  ballad  against  bia  Homer.  In  the  third 
book  are  the  following  lines : — 

*'  Lo,  next  two  slip-shod  mnsev  traipse  along, 

,   In  lofty  madness,  medittting  song, 
With  tresses  staring^  from  poetic  dreams. 
And  never  wash'd  bat  in  Castalia's  streams : 
Haywood,  CentliYre,  glories  of  their  race,"  Ac.  ice. 

An  extensive  acquaintance  with  men  and  manners  is 
exhibited  in  her  dramatic  writings,  and  they  are  some- 
times justly  censurable  for  their  licentiousness;  but  she 
unfortunately  flourished  in  a  period  when  it  was  the 
fashion  to  admire  vice  in  any  shape,  alluring  or  not.  Her 
greatest  merit  is  the  incessant  interest  and  bustle  she  has 
contrived  to  keep  up  throughout  the  whole  five  acts  of  her 
most  popular  plays:  the  language  is  spiritless,  and  at 
times  ridiculous:  neither  is  there  a  superabundance  of 
wit  to  be  found  in  any  of  her  productions ;  but  there  is  such 
a  happiness  of  thought,  in  regard  to  plot,  and  so  thorough 
a  knowledge  of  stage  effect  displayed  throughout  the 
Wonder,  Bold  Stroke  for  a  Wife,  and  Busy  Body,  that 
(with  the  exception  of  the  Beaux  Stratagem)  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  an  equal  to  either  of  them.  Yet  neither 
Farquhar,  Centlivre,  Vanbrugh,  or  Congreve,  were  the 
advocates  of  virtue;  they  have  been  characterised  as 
writers,  who,  though — 

■'  "  Heaven  endowed 

To  scourge  bold  Vice  with  VHf  s  resistless  rod, 
Embraced  her  chains,  stood  fortii  her  priests  arow'd. 
And  scattered  flow'rs  in  tTcry  path  she  trod. 


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460  CHANDLER. 

Inglorioiis  praise,  tbongfa  Judgment's  self  admir'd, 
Those  wanton  strains  which  Virtne  blush'd  to  hear; 
While  pamper'd  passion  from  the  scene  retir'dy 
With  wilder  rage  to  urge  his  fierce  career.** 

In  1761,  her  dramatic  works  were  collected  together, 
and  priDted  in  three  volumes  l2mo.  and  is  at  present  a 
scarce  book.  She  was  also  authoress  of  several  copies  of 
verses  on  divers  subjects  and  occasions^  and  many  inge- 
nious letters,  entitled,  '*  Letters  of  Wit,  Politics,  and 
Morality,"  which  were  collected  and  published  by  Mr, 
Boyer. 


EDWARD  CHANDLER. 

This  pious  and  learned  prelate  was  the  son  of  Samuel 
Chandler,  Esq.  of  the  city  of  Dublin,  by  his  wife,  Eliza- 
beth (whose  maiden  name  was  Calvert),  and  was  born  in 
that  city,  but  in  what  year  has  not  been  mentioned,  and 
received  his  academical  education  at  Emanuel  college, 
Cambridge,  where,  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-five,  he 
became  master  of  arts,  was  ordained  priest,  and  made  chap- 
lain to  Lloyd,  Bishop  of  Winchester  in  1693.  He  was 
made  prebendary  of  Pipa  Minor,  27th  April,  l697,and  was 
afterwards  canon  of  Litchfield  and  Worcester.  He  was 
nominated  to  the  bishopric  of  Litchfield  on  the  5th  of  Sep« 
tember,  1717,  and  consecrated  in  the  November  following 
at  Lambeth.  From  which  see  he  was  translated  to  that  of 
Durham,  on  the  5th  of  November,  1780,  and  it  was  then 
rumoured,  that  he  gave  the  sum  of  9000/.  for  this  opulent 
see;  but  this  assertion  was  not  credited.  He  enjoyed  this 
bishopric  for  a  period  of  about  twenty  years,  and  died  on 
the  20th.of  July,  1750,  at  his  house  in  Grosvenor  square, 
of  the  stone,  several  large  ones  being  found  in  his  body 
when  opened.  He  was  buried  at  Farnham  Royal,  in  the 
county  of  Bucks.  During  the  time  he  was  bishop  of 
Durham,  he  gave  50/.  towards  augmenting  Monkevear- 
mouth  li^ng ;  also  the  sum  of  200/.  to  purchase  a  house 
for  the  minister  of  Stockton,  and  2000/.  to  be  laid  out  in 
a  purchase  for  the  benefit  of  clergymen's  widows  in  the 


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CHANDLER.  461 

diocese  of  Darhatn ;  and  it  is  recorded  greatly  to  his  ho- 
nour, that  he  never  sold  any  of  his  patent  offices.  He 
was  a  prelate  of  great  eradition,  and  a  diligent  student; 
and  rendered  himself  highly  and  deservedly  esteemed,  as 
a  zealous  supporter  of  the  church  of  England,  and  perse* 
vering  investigator  of  truths  He  was  author  of  an  8vo. 
volumci  which  has  justly  merited  the  encomiums  of  the 
learned,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  mention  any  work, 
containing  altogether,  so  much  learning  and  convincing 
argument  in  so  small  a  space.  It  was  entitled ''  A  De- 
fence of  Christianity,  from  the  prophecies  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament, wherein  are  considered  all  the  objections  against 
this  kind  of  Proof  advanced  in  a  late  Discourse  on  the 
Grounds  and  Reasons  of  the  Christian  Religion. — London, 
1725"  It  was  so  popular  a  work  at  the  time  of  its  publica- 
tion, that  it  compelled  Collins  to  produce,  in  17^7,  a  second 
book,  particularly  in  answer  to  Chandler,  who  at  that 
period  held  the  see  of  Litchfield.  This  was  entitled  '^  The 
Scheme  of  Literal  Prophecy  considered,"  and  was  the  oc- 
casion  of  a  second  reply  from  the  learned  bishop,  entitled 
*'  A  Vindication  of  tbe  Defence  of  Christianity  from  the 
Pxophecies  of  the  Old  Testament ;''  this  was  published  in 
17^,  and  in  this  work  with  great  copiousness  and  learn- 
ing, be  convincingly  vindicates  tbe  antiquity  and  autho^ 
rity  of  the  Bobk  of  Daniel,  and  the  application  of  the  pro- 
phecies contained  therein  to  the  Messiah,  against  tbe 
propositions  and  objections  of  Collins,  and  also  fully 
refutes  his  arguments  advanced  against  the  antiquity  and 
universality  of  the  tradition,  and  expectation  among  the 
Jews,  concerning  the  Messiah.  His  other  publications 
were  eight  occasional  sermons ;  the  ^^  Chronological  Dis- 
sertation'' prefixed  to  Arnold's  Commentary  on  the  Book 
of  Ecclesiasticus;  and  a  Preface  to  a  posthumous  work  of 
Dr.  Ralph  Cudworth's,  entitled  *^  A  Treatise  concerning 
Eternal  and  ImmuUble  Morality." 


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402  CHERRY. 


ANDREW  CHERRY, 
An  ingenioin  dramatist^  and  amusing  actor,  iras  the  eldest 
ion  of  John  Cherry^  a  respectable  printer  and  bookseller 
as  Limerick,  and  was  born  in  that  city  on  the  llthof 
JantMu-y,  1762*  He  received  a  respectable  education  at 
a  grammar  school  there,  and  was  intendeded  by  his  father 
to  be  qualified  for  holy  orders  by  matriculation  in  a  oai- 
Tersity^  but  arising  from  yarioos  disappotntmeats  and 
unforeseen  circumstances,  his  parent  was  obliged  to 
abandon  his  intention,  and  at  eleven  years  of  age^  the 
subject  of  the  present  memoir  was  placed  under  the  pro» 
tection  of  a  Mr.  J.  Potts,  a  printer  and  bookseller,  in 
Dame  street,  Dublin,  and  was  by  him  initiatad  in  bis  art 
and  mystery.  From  an  ancient  friendship  which  bad  sub- 
sisted between  Mr.  I\>tts  and  Mr.  Cherry,  Andrew  was 
particularly  favoured  by  his  master,  and  made  his  constant 
companion  in  all  his  recreations.  Among  other  rational 
amusements,  Mr.  Potts  felt  a  peculiu'  attachment  to  the- 
atrical exhibitions,  and  perceiving  that  a  similar  attach- 
ment (doubtless  arising  from  sympathy)  dwelt  in  the  breast 
of  his  pupil,  he  rarely  visited  the  temple  of  Thespis  with- 
out being  accompanied  by  the  youthful  Cherry.  Thus 
encouraged,  ht  imbibed  an  early  predilection  (or  rather 
infatuation)  for  the  histrionic  art,  and  at  the  early  age  of 
fourteen,  made  his  first  appearance  in  the  character  of 
LuckiS,  in  Addison's  Cato,  in  a  large  room,  at  the  Blacka- 
moor^s  head,  Towers'  street,  Dublin^ 

This  passibn  for  the  stage  be  sedulously  cultivated,  and 
ii^hen  he  had  attamed  his  serenteenth  year,  viewing  bate, 
lieaikers,  and  Thalia's  n^ask,  fioatmg  before  bis  disordered 
hnaginatioft,  be  indignantly  spurned  typography,  and 
fearlessly  entered  the  dramatic  list,  making  his  dtttd  as  a 
professional  actor,  at  a  linle  town  called  Naas,  situated 
about  fourteen  miles  from  Dublin.  Here  be  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  small  gfonp  of  ttieefftMe  strollers,  principally 
composed  of  runaway  boys  and  girls  (all  highly-gifted  no 


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CHERRY.  468 

doubt)  who  wa-e  then  under  the  management  of  a  Mr. 
Martin. 

The  flfst  character  out*  hero  exhibited  himself  before 
his  new  andience  in,  was  Colonel  Feignwell,  in  Mrs.  Cent*- 
lilrre's  Comedy  of '*  A  Bold  Stroke  for  a  Wife,**  somewhat 
ftd  ardnous  tmdertaking  for  a  boy  of  seventeen,  as  it  is 
but  rare  that  even  the  veterans  of  the  stage  are  possessed 
of  a  variety  of  talent  suflicient  to  represent  this  difficoit 
character.  The  applause,  however,  was  great,  and  the 
manager  of  this  sharing  company,  after  passing  many  en- 
comiums on  his  exertions^  presented  him  with  lO^rf.  as  his 
dividend  of  the  profits  on  that  night's  performance. 

Young  Cherry  afterwards  launched  into  a  most  exten- 
sive range  of  character,  for  being  blest  **  with  a  peculiar 
facility  of  study,"  (t.  e.  a  good  memory,)  in  the  space  of 
ten  months,  be  performed  almost  a//  the  principal  charac- 
ters in  tragedy,  comedy^  and  farce ;  and  during  the  same 
periods  underwent  all  the  vicissitude  and  distress,  that 
usually  attend  those  hapless  individuals,  who  are  depen- 
dant on  so  pirecarious  a  mode  of  existence.  The  friends 
of  Cherry  have  heard  him  declare,  that  although  constantly 
employed  in  the  laborious  study,  that  bis  range  of  cha« 
meter  must  necessarily  bring  upon  him,  he  never  was  in 
possession  of  a  single  guinea,  during  the  whole  ten  months. 
He  was  frequently  without  the  means  of  common  saste- 
nance,  and  sometimes  even  unable  to  buy  the  very  candles 
by  which  he  should  study  the  characters  that  were  so 
numerously  allotted  to  him — circumstances  the  whole  of 
which  are  highly  probable. 

In  the  town  of  Atbloue,  we  are  told,  a  ciramustance  «f 
particular  distress  attended  our  hero ;  but  which  he  hotit 
with  all  the  magnanimity  that  dramatic  ardour  could  ia- 
apire.  The  business  of  the  theatre  was  suspended  for  ii 
abort  time,  in  consequence  of  the  benefits  having  turned 
out  badly :  tbemauager  was  resolved  not  to  waste  any  more 
billsi  but  wait  for  the  races,  which  were  to  commence  in 
a  few  days.  Our  hero  being  of  a  timid  and  bashful  turn, 
and  Ussisted  by  a  portioo  of  yauAfnl  pride,  was  incapable 


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464  CHERRY. 

of  making  those  advances,  and  playing  off  that  train  of 
theatrical  tricks,  by  which  means  benefits  are  frequently 
obtained  in  the  country,  and  therefore  he  had  been  less 
successful  than  many  of  his  brethren.  His  landlady,  per- 
ceiving there  was  no  prospect  of  payment,  satisfied  herself 
for  the  trifle  already  due,  by  seizing  on  the  remnant  of 
our  hero's  wardrobe ;  and  knowing  she  could  dispose  of 
her  lodgings  to  more  advantage  during  the  races,  turned 
him  out  to  the  mercy  of  the  winter^s  wind,  which  he  en- 
dured with  all  his  former  philosophy.  He  rambled  care* 
lessly  about  the  streets,  sometimes  quoting  passages  to 
himself^  both  cpmic  and  serious,  that  were  analogous  to 
his  situation,  but  without  forming  one  determined  ide^i  of 
where  he  was  to  rest  his  houseless  head.  Towards  the 
close  of  the  evening  he  strolled  by  accident  into  the  lower 
part  of  the  theatre,  which  had  formerly  been  an  inn,  and 
was  then  occupied  by  a  person  whose  husband  had  been  a 
Serjeant  of  dragoons,  for  the  purpose  of  retailing  refresh- 
ments, 8cc.  to  those  who  visited  the  theatre.  After  chat- 
ting until  it  grew  late,  the  woman  binted  to  our  hero  that 
she  wished  to  go  to  bed,  and  begged  he  might  retire ;  upon 
which  he  replied,  in  the  words  of  Don  John,  **  I  was  just 
thinking  of  going  home,  but  that  1  have  no  lodging."  The 
good  woman,  taking  the  words  literally,  inquired  into  the 
cause,  with  which  he  acquainted  her  without  disguise. 
Being  the  mother  of  a  family,  she  felt  severely  for  his 
distressed  situation:  at  that  time  he  did  not  possess  a 
single  halfpenny  in  the  world,  nor  the  means  of  obtaining 
one.  The  poor  creature  shed  tears  of  regret  that  she  could 
not  effectually  alleviate  his  misfortune.  He  endeavoured 
to  assume  a  careless  gaiety ;  but  the  woman's  unaffected 
sorrow  brought  the  reflection  of  his  own  disobedience  to 
bis  mind,  and  he  dropped  tears  in  plenteous  libation :  in 
his  grief  he  saw.  the  sorrow  of  his  parents,  whom  he  had 
deserted,  to  follow  what  he  began  to  perceive  a  mad 
career,  in  despite  of  the  many  unanswered  remonstrances 
he  had  received,  with  a  fair  promise  of  forgiveness  and 
affection,  should  he  return  to  his  business.    This  philan- 


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CHERRY.  465 

tbropie  female  lamented  that  the  could  not  famish  him 
with  a  bed,  but  offered  to  lend  him  her  husband's  cloke, 
and  to  procure  a  bundle  of  dry  hay,  that  he  might  sleep  in 
an  empty  room  in  her  house.  His  lieart  was  too  full  to 
pay  his  gratitude  in  words;  his  eyes  thanked  her;  he 
wept  bitterly,  accepted  her  kind  offer,  and  retired  to  rest. 
The  intruding  any  further  on  her  kindness  was  painful  to 
him,  as  she  was  struggling  to  maintain  a  numerous  off*" 
spring.  He  therefore  carefully  avoided  the  house  at  meal- 
times, and  wandered  through  the  fields  or  streets,  until  he 
supposed  their  repasts  were  finished :  at  last,  so  overcome 
by  fasting  and  fatigue,  timt  he  could  not  rest,  he  rose  from 
his  trooper's  cloke  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  and  explored 
the  kitchen,  searching  the  dresser  and  all  its  shelves  and 
drawers,  in  hopes  of  finding  something  that  might  satisfy 
the  cravings  of  his  appetite,  but  in  vain.  On  his  return 
to  his  hay  truss,  he  accidentally  struck  against  the  kitchen 
table,  the  noise  of  which  he^feared  might  alarm  the  family; 
and,  uncertain  of  the  real  cause  of  his  leaving  his  apart- 
ment at  that  hour,  they  might  naturally  suppose  ^hat  his 
purpose  was  to  rob  the  house,  as  a  reward  for  their  hospi- 
tality :  the  idea  added  to  the  misery  he  then  suffered ;  he 
trembled,  he  listened,  but  all  was  quiet;  and  then  renewed 
his  search  (for  his  hunger  overcame  his  fears),  and  to  bis 
gratification  he  found  a  large  crust  of  stale  bread,  which 
he  was  afterwards  informed  had  been  used  for  rubbing  out 
some  spots  of  white  paint  from  the  very  cloke  that  com- 
posed his  bedding;  he,  however,  ate  it  with  avidity,  as  he 
was  entering  on  the  fourth  day  without  the  least  refresh- 
ment, and  returned  heartfelt  thanks  to  Providence,  whose 
omnipotent  hand  was  stretched  in  the  very  critical  mo- 
ment, to  save  him  from  the  most  direful  of  all  possible 
deaths, — starving ! 

At  length,  after  enduring,  in  all  probability,  not  more 
than  the  usual  and  every-day  hardships  attendant  on  the 
life  of  a  strolling  player,  he  quitted  the  stage,  and  even 
now  *^  returned  to  reason  and  the  shop,"  remaining  at 
home  for  upwards  of  three  years.    The  "  strutting  and 

VOL.  I.  u  B 


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iO&  CHERRY. 

fretting^  plx>fe86idii  was^  boweve)',  too  firmly  seated  in 
his  mind  and  heart,  to  be  so  suddenly  got  rid  of.  He 
forgot  entirely  the  misery  be  bad  so  lately  suffered,  quitted 
bis  home,  and  after  making  some  excursions  of  little  mo«- 
ment,  enlisted  himself  'under  the  banners  of  a  Mr.  R.  W. 
Knipe,  a  well-known  dramatic  veteran,  ''  a  scholar  and  a 
gentleman."  In  bis  company  (we  are  told)  Cherry  enjoyed 
much  comfort  and  satisfaction,  and  remained  attached  to 
it  till  Mr.  Knipe's  decease.  He  then  joined  the  principal 
provincial  company  of  Ireland  under  the  management  of 
Mr.  Atkins,  where  he  performed  a  most  extensive  round 
of  characters,  and  was  for  many  years  the  popular  favo- 
rite of  the  north  of  Ireland,  during  which  period  he  mar- 
ried the  daughter  of  bis  old  friend  and  manager,  Mr. 
Knipe,  by  whom  he  had  a  large  family. 

In  1787,  Mr.  Ryder  having  been  engaged  at  Covent 
Garden  theatre,  Cherry  whose  provincial-  repute  had 
reached  the  capital,  quitted  tbe  audiences  of  Belfast,  to 
supply  his  place  at  the  theatre  in  Smock  alley,  Dublin, 
where,  ft>r  six  years,  he  stood  at  the  top  of  his  profession  in 
tbe  comic  line. 

Having  long  entertained  a  desire  of  visiting  the  sister 
country,  he  engaged  Mrs.  Cherry  and  himself  to  the  cele- 
brated Tate  Wilkinson,  at  tbe  period  when  Mr.  Fawceit 
entered  into  articles  with  the  managers  of  Covent  Garden, 
whose  situation  he  filled  at  tbe  theatres  of  York,  Hull,&c. 
for  three  years,  when  he  again  returned  to  his  native 
country. 

He  continued  two  seasons  in  Ireland  ;  after  which  the 
irregular  payments  of  the  manager,  and  other  disgusting 
circumstances,  induced  him  to  return  to  England,  and  he 
accepted  an  engagement  with  Messrs.  Ward  and  Banks, 
managers  of  the  Manchester  theatres  where,  with  bis 
wife,  he  successfully  performed  two  years.  From  thence 
he  went  to  Bath,  where  for  four  seasons  be  enjoyed  an 
ample  share  of  public  favour. 

On  tbe  abdication  of  tbe  late  Mr.  King,  Mr.  Cherry 
was  engaged  at  Drury  Lane  theatre,  where  he  made  his 


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CHICHESTER.  407 

appewfaimon  the  t5ih  of  Se}>tember,  180fi,  ia  the  chd- 
rac^rt  of  "  Sir  Benjamin  Dove"  in  the  *'  Brothers,"  and 
"  Lazarilfo/'  in  "  Two  Strings  to  your  Bow,"  and  was  re^ 
cdved  with  great  applause.  He  afterwards  became 
manager  of  the  Swansea  and  Monmouth  theatres,  and  died 
at  the  latter  place,  of  dropsy  on  the  brain,  on  the  12th  of 
February,  1812. 

Such  was  Andrew  Cherry,  a  man  who  underwent  every 
variety  of  disappointment  and  misery,  for  the  pleasure  of 
being  conspicnous :  his  life,  though  littk  else  but  a  record 
of  foily^  however,  will  not  be  utterly  usekss  to  mankind, 
if  but  tme  of  those  countless  individuals,^— the  would-be 
Richard's  and  Hamlet's,  pause  ere  they  sacrifice  the  snn^ 
niest  hours  of  their  lives,  making  a  compact  with  the 
'^  juggling  fiend,  that  keeps  the  word  of  promise  to  tbeir 
ear,  and  breaks  it  to  their  hope.'' 

As  an  author.  Cherry  is  fully  deserving  of  the  epithet, 
iagenions,  as  he  contrived  to  produce  a  comedy  (The  SoN 
dier's  Daughter)  which  ran  for  thirty-seven  nights,  at  * 
time  when  the  public  Uste  was  not  very  degraded. 

He  wrote  altogether  ten  dramatic  pieces,  the  titles  of 
which  are  to  be  found  in  the  Biograpbia  Dramatica. 


ARTHUR  CHICHESTER, 

EiABL  or  DoME<9AL,  was  the  eldest  sob  of  Edward^ 
Viscount  Chichester,  and  was  born  on  the  16th  Jaouary, 
1606.  In  1627  he  succeeded  Lord  Valentin  in  hia  troop 
of  horse,  and  after  the  decease  of  his  father,  was  appointed 
governor  of  Carrickfergus  for  life.  At  this  place  he  resided 
when  the  first  tidings  of  the  rebellion  were  brought  to  him, 
o»  Saturday^  23rd  Octob^,  1641,  about  ten  o'clock  at 
night.  Be  immediately  by  fires  and  alarm-drums  raised 
the  cotmtryi  and  distributing  the  arms  and  ammunition 
among  those  who  oame  to  Carrickfergus,  he  left  the  castle 
nnder  the  care  of  Captain  Roger  Lyndon,  and  marched 
with  aboat  three  hundred  horse  and  foot  to  Belfast,  where 
he  leceived  a  reinforcement.     On  the  27th  be  joined  the 


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408  CHICHESTER. 

Lord  MoDtgomery,  at  LisbarDcf^  and  soon  after  he  was 
appointed,  in  commission  with  Sir  Arthur  Tyringham,  to 
the  chief  command  of  the  county  of  Antrim.  He  imme- 
diately  endeavonred  to  put  the  towns  in  b  state  of  defence 
and  to  take  the  best  methods  in  his  power  for  the  suppres* 
sion  of  the  rebel) ion,  in  which  he  was  farther  assisted  by  a 
commission  from  the  king,  and  a  grant  for  the  fortifica- 
tions of  Belfast.  But  when,  by  the  defection  of  the 
army  in  the  north,  he  could  no  longer  maintain  his  com* 
mand,  he  retired  to  Dublin,  where  he  was  sworn  a  member 
of  the  privy  council,  and,  in  January  1645,  entered  into  a 
resolution,  with  the  rest  of  the  officers  of  the  Marquis  of 
Ormondes  regiment,  not  to  take  the  covenant  imposed 
upon  them  by  the  English  parliament,  but  to  preserve 
their  allegiance  to  his  majesty,  and  obey  the  orders  of  the 
lord-lieutenant.  His  fidelity  to  his  prince,  affection  to  his 
country,  and  activity  against  the  rebels,  were  indeed  so 
conspicuous,  that  the  lord-lieutenant,  in  a  letter  to  the 
king,  dated  19th  January,  1645,  writes  thus:— - 

**  You  have  been  graciously  pleased  of  late  to  reward 
some,  that  have  either  served  your  majesty  actually,  or 
suffered  for  you  eminently  in  their  persons  or  fortunes^ 
with  new  creations,  or  with  additions  of  honour  in  this 
kingdom*  That  Colonel  Arthur  Chichester  hath  missed 
such  a  mark  of  your  majesty's  favour,  I  conceive  to  have 
been  through  his  own  modesty,  and  my  not  representing 
his  personal  merit.  If  he  outlives  his  father,  he  will  be 
in  among  the  foremost  of  the  viscounts  of  this  kingdom 
in  place,  and  (I  am  sure)  beyond  them  all,  except  one, 
in  fortune,  though  he  be  for  the  present  deprived  of  the 
latter  for  his  faithfulness  to  your  majesty's  crown,  the 
same  means  whereby  bis  uncle  got  both  it  and  his  honour. 
He  hath  served  your  majesty  against  the  Irish  rebellion 
since  the  beginning  of  it ;  and  when,  through  an  almost 
general  defection  of  the  northern  army,  he  was  no  longer 
able  to  serve  your  uif^esty  there,  he  came  with  much 
hazard  to  take  his  share  in  the  sufferings  of  your  servants 
here,  and  with  them  to  attend  for  that  happy  time,  thai 


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CLANCY.  469 

(we  trust)  will  put  us  in  a  condition  to  contribute  more 
to  your  service  than  our  prayers.  If  your  majesty  shall 
think  fit  to  advance  this  gentleman  to  an  earldom,  I  con- 
ceive thai  of  Dunnegally  a  county  in  the  province  of 
Ulster,  wherein  be  should  have  a  good  inheritance,  is 
fittest,  which  I  humbly  ofier  to  your  majesty's  considera- 
tioD,  as  a  part  of  the  duty  of 

"  Your  majesty's,  &c. 

,  "Obmond.'' 

In  consequence  of  this  representation,  he  was  created, 
in  1646,  Earl  of  Donegal;  and  in  the  following  year  he 
was  one  of  the  four  hostages  sent  by  the  Marquis  of 
Ormond  to  the  English  parliament,  as  surety  for  his  per- 
formance of  thearticles  between  them,  for  the  surrender 
of  Dublin,  and  the  other  garrisons,  to  their  commissioners. 
Soon  after  the  Restoration  he  was  appointed  custos  rotu- 
lorum  of  the  counties  of  Antrim  and  Donegal,  and  also 
restored  to  the  government  of  Carrickfergus.  In  I668, 
be  founded  a  lectureship  on  mathematics  in  the  university 
of  Dublin.  He  died  at  Belfast,  on  the  18th  March,  1674, 
aod  was  buried  at  Carrickfergus. 


MICHAEL  CLANCY,  M.D. 

T^uis  gentleman  was  the  son  of  a  military  man,  of  an 
ancient  and  once  powerful  family  in  the  county  of  Clare ; 
and  appears  to  have  been  born  towards  the  latter  end  of 
the  sevenjteenth,  or  the  commencement  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  When  he  had  attained  his  eighth  year  he  was 
placed  at  one  of  the  -first  colleges  in  France,  where  he 
remained  until  the  famous  James,  Duke  of  Ormonde,  fled 
from  England  and  went  to  St«  Germains.  On  that  occa- 
sion, be,  with  two  of  his  companions,  seizing  an  oppor* 
tunity,  quitted  the  college,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing 
an  individual  who  had  rendered  himself  celebrated  all  over 
Europe;  which  having  accomplished,  he  wa9y  either 
Uirough  fcar  or  sbame^  deterred  from  returning  to  bit  pre* 


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470  CLANCY. 

ceptor.  He  accordiogly  resolved  on  proceeding  to  hit 
native  country ;  for  which  purpose  he  took  a  place  in  the 
boat  for  Harfleur  in  Normandy,  and  shortly  after  arriving 
at  Havre  de  Grace,  obtained  a  passage  to  Dublin. 

Being  perfectly  ignorant  of  who  is  relations  were,  or  at 
what  place  they  resided,  but  remembering  to  have  heard 
that  he  sprung  from  a  family  on  the  borders  of  the  county 
of  Clare,  he  resolutely  determined  to  proceed  into  that 
part  of  the  kingdom  ;  accordingly  he  commenced  his  ex- 
cursion, making  the  best  of  bis  way  through  Kilkenny, 
where  he  luckily  met  with  a  '^  good  Samaritan,"  who  took 
compassion  on  his  helpless  state,  and  feeling  an  inclination 
to  pay  back  to  the  son  some  obligations  conferred  on  him 
by  the  father,  eagerly  embraced  the  opportunity  that  now 
presented  itself,  and  supported  him,  and  placed  him  in  a 
free  school  belonging  to  that  town.  Here  he  continued 
for  three  years,  when  the  misfortunes  of  his  benefactor 
deprived  him  of  the  assistance  he  had  derived  from  that 
quarter;  fortunately  for  him,  however,  it  was  his  destiny  in 
losing  one  benefactor  to  procure  another,  as,  about  this 
period,  an  unforeseen  event  brought  him  to  the  knowledge 
of  his  relations,  by  whom  be  was  sent  to  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  and  became  a  pupil  of  Dr.  James  King. 

At  the  university  he  remained  nearly  four  years,  at  the 
end  of  which  period,  perceiving  no  prospect  of  advance- 
ment, and  being  of  a  **  lively  disposition,"  and  feeling  an 
inclination  to  ^  see  a  little  of  the  world,"  he  once  more 
left  his  native  country  for  France,  setting  sail  on  board  a 
ship  bound  for  Rochelle,  on  the  ^th  of  July,  17^4.  In 
three  days  time  the  vessel  gained  sight  of  L'Isle  Dieu  on 
the  coast  of  Britanny;  but,  on  the  fourth,  a  violent  storm 
arose,  which  drove  it  towards  the  ooast  of  Spain,  where  it 
was  stranded  on  the  shore  about  a  mile's  distance  from 
the  town  of  St.  Sebastian,  in  Biscay.  From  this  place  be 
obtained  a  passage  to  Rochelle,  and  from  thence  to  Bor* 
deaax,  where  he  intended  to  commence  the  study  of  phy- 
sic Me  afterwards  obtained  the  degree  of  •  doctor  at 
Rbeims.  At  what  time  be  returned  to  Ireland  ia  tmknown^ 


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CLAYTON.  47  > 

bothe  was  there  in  1737,  when  he  was  deprived  of  hU 
eight  by  an  accidental  cold.  Thi«  deprivation  rendering 
him  incapable  of  his  profession,  he  amused  himself  with, 
writing  his  comedy,  called  '*  The  Sharper,"  which  was 
acted  five  times  at  Smock  alley,  and  obtained  him  the 
notice  of  Dean  Swift. 

From  this  period  his  life  partook  of  all  the  inconve- 
niences that  usually  result  from  confined  circumstances, 
and  an  inability  to  procure  the  means  of  subsistence  by 
a  profession.  He,  however,  obtained  from  the  late  king  a 
pension  of  forty  pounds  a-year  during  his  life;  and,  in  the 
year  1746,  procured  a  sum  of  money  by  performing  a 
part  he  was  so  well  qualified  for  by  nature,  namely,  Tire^ 
sias  the  blind  prophet,  in  "  (Edipus  "  This  performance 
was  for  his  gwn  benefit  at  Drury  Lane  theatre.  He  afieri- 
wards  was  settled  at  the  Latin  school  at  Kilkenny.  The 
time  of  his  death  we  are  wholly  unacquainted  with. 

He  is  the  author  of  a  Latin  Poem,  called  "  Templuw 
Veneris,  sive  Amorum  RhapsodiaB;"and  of  three  dramatie 
pieces,  whose  titles  are,  1.  "  Tamar,  Prince  of  Nubia," 
T.  1739;  2.  ''  Hermon,  Prince  of  Chor®a,"  T.  1746f 
5.  *^  The  Sharper,"  C.  1750. 


BENJAMIN  CLARE 

Was  a  man  of  extraordinary  talent,  but  neglected  to 
improve  it  by  due  application  (by  no  means  an  extraor* 
dinary  case).  He  was  held,  however,  in  great  estimation, 
and,  we  are  told,  "  he  most  justly  deserved  the  name  of  a 
fine  artist."  He  was  a  man  possessed  of  a  benevolent 
heart,  was  born  in  Dublin,  in  1771,  and  died,  greatly  la- 
mented,  in  that  city,  in  1810. 


DR.  ROBERT  CLAYTON, 

An  eminent  scholar,  and  a  prelate  of  the  church  of  lre» 
land|  was  born  at  Dublin,  in  1693.  His  father,  Dr.  Clay* 
ton,  was  minister  of  St.  Michael's,  Dublin,  and  dean  of 


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47«  CLAYTON. 

Kildare.  '  The  familj  was  descended  from  the  Claytons^ 
of  Fulwoody  in   Lancashire,  whose  estate  came  to  Dr« 
Clayton  by  inheritance.    The  son  was,  at  an  early  age, 
put  to  Westminster  school,  under  the  tuition  of  Zachary 
Pearce,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Rochester*     The  kindness 
and  fidelity  oF  the  teacher,  and  the  gratitude  and  applica- 
tionof  the  pupil,  cemented  between  them  a  warm  and  last- 
ing friendship.     From  Westminster  he  was  remoYcd  to 
Trinity  College,  where  he  made  honoarable  progress,  and, 
ID  due  time,  was  elected  fellow ;  and  afterwards  made  the 
tour  of  France  and  Italy.     In  1729,  he  was  D.  D.  and 
besides  this  literary  title,  he  became  F.  S.  A.  and  F.  R.  S. 
of  London.      In  17^8,  he  came  into  possession  of  an 
affluent  estate,  in  consequence  of  his  father's  death,  when 
be  laid  down  his  fellowsliip  without  any  beneficiary  com* 
mutation,  and  married  Catharine,  daughter  of  Lord  Chief 
Baron  Donellan,  and  had  the  generosity  and  indepen- 
dence to  give  her  fortune,  which  was  but  inconsiderable, 
to  her  sister.     He  shewed  an  equal  degree  of  noble  kind- 
ness to  his  own  three  sisters,  and  gave  each  double  what 
had  been  bequeathed  them  by  his  father's  wilh 

Soon  after  his  marriage,  he  went  with  his  lady  to  Lon- 
don, where  a  person  in  distressed  circumstances  applied . 
to  him  for  assistance,  witl^  a  testimony  of  Dr.  Samuel 
Clarke,  for  a  recommendation;  upon  which,  instead  of  a 
small  donation,  as  usual  upon  such  donations,  he  gave  no 
less  than  300/.  which  was  tlie  whole  sum  which  the  unfor- 
tunate man  said  was  necessary  to  make  him  easy  in  the 
world.    This  circumstance  made  him  acquainted  with  Dr* 
Clarke,  and  the  result  of  their  intercourse  was,  that  Dr. 
Clayton  was  led  to  embrace  Arian  principles,  to  which  he 
adhered  through  life.     Dr.  Clarke  having  informed  Queen 
Caroline  of  the  remarkable  beneficence  of  Dr.  Clayton, 
It  made  a  strong  impression  on  her  Majesty's  mind  in  his 
favour;  which  impression  wus  strongly  enforced  by  Mrs. 
Clayton,  afterwards  I^dy^Sandon,  then  in  attendance  in 
her   Majesty's  service,  as  bed-chamber  woman.     Such 
powerful  inter^t  procured   a  recommendation  to    Lord 


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CLAYTON.  473 

Carteret,  then  lord-lieotenaot  of  Ireland,  for  the  very 
first  bishopric  which  should  become  vacant,  and  he  was 
accordingly  appointed  bishop  of  Killala,  January  17^9-30. 
Over  this  see  he  presided  till  1 735,  when  he  became  bishop 
of  Cork,  which  office  he  held  till  his  translation  to  the  see 
of  Clogher,  in  1745.  This  was  his  last  and  greatest 
ecclesiastical  preferment.  Dr.  Clayton  filled  his  import- 
ant rank  in  society  in  a  dignified  and  respectable  manner, 
bat  was  not  known  to  the  world  as  a  literary  character, 
till  he  published  an  '^  Introduction  to  the  History  of  the 
Jews/'  which  was  at  first  attributed  to  another  pen.  Soon 
after  appeared  an  elaborate  work,  which  excited  the  atten- 
tion of  the  learned,  ''  The  Chronology  of  the  Hebrew 
Bible  vindicated;  the  Facts  compared  with  other  ancient 
Histories,  and  the  Difficulties  explained,  from  the  Flood 
to  the  Death  of  Moses;  together  with  some  Conjectures 
in  relation  to  Egypt,  during  that  Period  of  Time;  also 
two  Maps,  in  which  are  attempted  to  be  settled  tlie 
Journey  of  the  Children  of  Israel,"  1747,  4to.  Continuing 
his  Biblical  studies,  his  lordsliip  published,  in  1749,  a 
''  Dissertation  on  Prophecy,''  in  which  he  endeavoured  to 
shew,  from  a  joint  comparison  of  the  prophecies  of  Daniel 
and  the  revelations  of  St.  John,  that  the  final  end  of  the 
dispersion  of  the  Jews  will  be  coincident  with  the  ruin  of 
Popedom,  and  take  place  about  £000,  A.  D.  After  this 
followed  *'  An  impartial  Enquiry  into  the  Time  of  the 
Coming  of  the  Messiah,"  in  two  letters  to  an  eminent 
Jew,  printed  first  separately  and  then  together,  in  1751. 

It  has  already  been  stated,  that  his  lordship  had  imbibed 
the  Arian  doctrines,  in  opposition  to  the  standards  of  the 
Church,  and,  in  furtherance  of  the  views  he  had  adopted, 
he  now  gave  to  the  world  a  work  which  excited  consider- 
able controversy.  It  was  entitled,  an  **  Essay  on  the 
Spirit;**  and  the  object  of  it  was  to  prove  the  inferiority 
of  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  to  prepare  the  way 
for  an  alteration  of  the  Liturgy  of  the  Church.  To  this 
work  he  prefixed  a  dedication,  with  his  name,  to  the  pri- 
mate of  Ireland ;  and   it  had  the  effect  of  fixing  on  him 


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474  CLAYTON. 

the  itain  of  heresy,  and  preventiDg  his  rislag  farther  \n  the 
church.  After  all,  the  work  was  not  written  by  the  bishop 
himselfy  but  by  a  young  clergyman  of  his  diocese,  who 
shewed  the  manuscript  to  his  lordship,  but  had  not  the 
courage  to  print  it.  The  bishop  conveyed  it  to  the  press, 
and  so  managed  the  affair,  that  he  alone  sustained  the 
whole  brunt  of  the  opponents.  There  was  a  considerable 
degree  of  romantic  generosity  in  this  conduct,  but  little  of 
worldly  prudence.  In  175Q,  be  was  recommended  by  the 
Duke  of  Dorset,  the  viceroy  of  Ireland,  to  the  vacant 
archbishopric  of  Tuam,  but  was  refused  tlie  promotion 
simply  from  his  being  reputed  the  author  of  this  essay*'. 

The  next  work  the  bishop  sent  to  the  press  was  un* 
doubtedly  his  own  composition,  ^'  A  Vindication  of  the 
Histories  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament ;  in  Answer  to 
the  Objections  of  the  late  Lord  Bolingbroke;"  in  two 
letters  to  a  young  nobleman,  175£,  8vo«  It  is  a  work  of 
great  learning  and  ability,  which  discovers  great  acute- 
ness  of  criticism  and  industry  in  his  lordship,  and  in  it 
the  objections  of  Bolingbroke  are  ably  exposed  and  con- 
futed. There  are,  however,  in  it  some  physical  principles 
laid  down,  which  are  more  fanciful  than  solid.  This  is 
more  particularly  the  case  with  the  second  part,  which 

♦  The  controversy  to  which  the  "  Essay  on  Spirit"  gave  rise,  continue^ 
but  a  short  time.  The  best  answers  to  the  work  were,  *<  A  FuU  Answer, 
&c.**  1763,  8vo.  by  the  late  Rev.  William  Jones,  the  friend  and  biographer 
of  Bishop  Home ;  and  '<  A  Vindication  of  the  Doctrine  of  the  Trinity,^  in 
three  p<urt8,  with  an  Appendix,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Randolphr  &tber  to  tb«, 
late  Bishop  of  London.  Dr.  Keppis  expresses  his  opinion  that  the 
**  Essay  on  Spirit,"  and  the  tracts  in  defence  of  it,  were  the  means  of 
difiiising  the  Arian  sentiments,  which,  however,  he  adds,  ""  are  at  present 
upon  the  decline,  the  Unitarians  tending  fast  to  the  doctrines  of  Socinns.'' 
On  the  ^  Essay  on  Spirit,''  Dr.  Warbnrton  says,  in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Hurd, 
*^  The  Bishop  of  Clogher,  or  some  such  heathenish  name,  in  Ireland,  has 
just  published  a  book.  It  is  made  up  out  of  the  rubbish  of  the  heresies ; 
<ff  a  much  ranker  cast  than  common  Arianism.  Jesus  Christ  is  Michael, 
and  the  Holy  Otiost,  Gabriel,  See,  -This  pigfat  be  heresy  in  an  English 
bi^p,  l>ut  in  an  Irish,  'tis  only  a  blunder.  Bnt  thanl^  Qod,  our  bishops 
are  far  from  making  or  vending  heresies ;  though  for  the  good  of  the 
church,  they  have  excellent  eyes  at  spying  it  out  wherever  it  skulks  or  lies 
bid." 


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CLAYTON.  47$ 

appeared  in  1754,  in  which  be  attempts  to  give  an  ac- 
count of  the  formation  of  the  earth,  and  of  the  deluge. 

In  17 53,  he  published  ^  A  Journal  from  Grand  Cairo 
to  Mount  Sinaiy  and  back  again.  Translated  from  a  Ma- 
nuscript, written  by  the  Prefetto  of  Egypt;  in  company 
with  the  Missionaries  de  Propaganda  Fide,  at  Grand 
Cairo.  To  which  are  added,  some  Remarks  on  the  Origin 
of  Hieroglyphics,  and  the  Mythology  of  the  ancient 
Heathens/'  London,  4to.  and  8vo.  This  work  was  dedi- 
cated to  the  Society  of  Antiquaries.  The  bishop  having 
become  possessed  of  the  original  journal  from  Grancl 
Cairo  to  Mount  Sinai,  and  which  had  been  mentioned  by 
Dr.  Pococke  in  his  Travels  through  the  East,  offered  this 
tratislation  of  it  to  the  antiquaries,  with  a  view  of  exciting 
their  attention  to  characters  cut  out  in  the  rocks  in  the 
wilderness  of  Sinai,  at  a  place  well  known  by  the  name  of 
Gebel  el  Mokatah,orthe  Written  Mountains.  The  bishop 
was  in  great  hopes,  that,  if  they  could  have  been  copied 
and  transmitted  to  England,  the  meaning  of  them  might 
perhaps  have  been  by  some  means  or  other  got  at ;  and, 
as  it  was  supposed  they  were  cut  out  by  the  Israelites 
during  the  long  leisure  of  their  encampment  in  the  Wil- 
derness, it  was  supposed  that  much  curious  and  interest- 
ing information  might  have  been  obtained,  and  confirming 
the  truth  of  the  Mosaic  history.  The  prefetto  of  Egypt 
had  with  him  persons  acquainted  with  Arabic,  Greek, 
Hebrew,  Syriac,  Coptic,  Latin,  Armenian,  Turkish,  Eng- 
lish, lUyrian,  German,  and  Bohemian  languages;  yet  none 
of  them  had  any  knowledge  of  the  characters,  which  were 
cut  in  the  rock  twelve  or  fourteen  feet  high  with  great 
industry.  The  bishop  was  anxious  a  person  might  be  sent 
out  qualified  to  copy  them,  and  offered  himself  to  contri- 
bute lOO/.  per  annum  for  five  years,  to  assist  in  defraying 
the  expense.  It  does  not  appear  that  any  steps  were 
taken  by  the  Society  of  Antiquaries  in  consequence;  and 
probably  the  result  would  have  been  less  satisfactory  than 
supposed.  The  celebrated  Mr.  Edward  Wortley  Montagu, 
who  went  from  Cairo  to  the  deseit  of  Sinai,  for  the  express 


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470  CLAYTON. 

purpose  of  seeing  and  describing  the  objects  proposed  bj 
the  bishop,  was  greatly  disappointed,  and  convinced  that 
the  characters  were  not  made  by  the  Israelites.  Other 
travellers,  who  have  been  at' the  same  place  since,  have 
not  been  more  successful. 

The  bishop's  next  publication  wais  in  1755 ;  and  con- 
sisted merely  of  some  letters  which  had  passed  between 
his  lordship,  when  Bishop  of  Cork,  and  Mr.  William  Penn, 
on  the  subject  of  baptism.  In  which  he  contended,  that 
the  true  christian  baptism  is  to  continue  to  the  end  of  the 
world;  whereas  the  baptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ceased 
with  the  working  of  miracles. 

The  zeal  with  which  his  lordship  had  entered  into  the 
Arian  controversy,  by  fathering  a  work  not  his  own,  did 
not  cease  to  influence  his  mind ;  and  he  attempted  to  fur* 
ther  the  propagation  of  the  same  tenets  in  his  legislative 
capacity,  by  a  speech  in  the  house  of  lords,  at  Dublin, 
2nd  of  February,  1756,  when  he  moved  that  the  Nicene  and 
Athanasian  creeds  should  for  the  future  be  omitted  in  the 
Liturgy  of  the  church  of  Ireland.  The  speech  he  delivered 
on  that  occasion  was  taken  down  in  short-hand ;  and, 
being  published,  went  through  several  editions.  This  so 
avowed  and  declared  an  attack  on  the  articles  of  the 
church,  made  his  lordship  be  viewed  in  a  very  unfavour- 
able light  by  his  brethren,  and  this  feeling  towards  him 
was  aggravated  still  more  by  his  posterior  conduct.  In 
1757  he  published  the  third  part  of  his  *^  Vindication  of 
the  Histories  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,"  in  which  he 
wandered  so  far  into  heterodoxy,  that  it  was  considered  by 
the  governors  of  the  church  as  highly  improper  that  such 
conduct  should  be  allowed  in  one  whose  situation  required 
him  to  appear  in  her  defence.  Accordingly  orders  were 
sent  by  his  Majesty  to  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  then  lord- 
lieutenant,  to  take  the  proper  steps  towards  a  legal  prose- 
cution. A  day  was  appointed  for  a  general  meeting  of 
the  Irish  prelates  at  the  primate;  to  which  Bishop  Clay- 
ton was  summoned,  that  he  might  receive  from  them  the 
notification  of  their  intentions.    A  censore  was  certain ; 


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CLAYTON.  477 

ftnd  it  was  appreheoded  he  would  be  deprived  of  his  bene- 
fice. His  lordship  howeyer,  and  the  other  bishops  and 
ministers,  were  relieved  from  all  farther  trouble  in  so  un- 
pleasant an  affair  by  the  hand  of  death,  Feb.  £6,  1758. 
The  disease  was  nervous  fever,  and  the  agitation  of  mind 
under  which  he  was  thrown  when  a  prosecution  com- 
menced against  him,  proved  the  cause  of  his  death.  When 
informed  of  the  prosecution,  he  consulted  an  eminent 
lawyer  on  the  subject,  and  asked  him  if  he  supposed  he 
should  lose  his  bishopric.  The  answer  was,  "  My  lord,  I 
believe  you  will."  *'  Sir,"  he  replied,  *'  you  have  given 
me  a  stroke  I  shall  never  get  the  better  of."  It  has  been 
asserted,  that,  after  the  bishop  had  delivered  his  speech  in 
the  house  of  lords,  he  said  *'  That  his  mind  was  eased  of 
a  load  which  bad  long  been  upon  it,  and  that  he  now 
enjoyed  a  heartfelt  pleasure,  to  which  he  had  been  a 
stranger  for  above  twenty  years  before."  This  story,  if 
true,  and  his  lordship's  future  conduct,  are  decidedly  in- 
consistent; and,  indeed,  it  is  impossible  to  view  in  a 
favourable  light  the  behaviour  of  the  bishop  and  his  pre- 
cedent conduct.  If  he  had  been  truly  conscientious  in 
the  zeal  he  had  shewn  for  the  tenets  which  he  had  em- 
braced, it  ill  became  him  to  shrink  from  the  consequences 
of  avowing  them.  The  pecuniary  loss  of  the  revenues  of 
his  bishopric  for  the  few  remaining  years  in  which  he  had 
any  probability  of  living,  ought  not  to  have  weighed  much 
in  any  circumstances ;  and  surely  none  at  all  with  one  who 
was  possessed  of  so  ample  a  private  fortune.  And  to 
suffer  for  conscience  sake,  to  a  man  thoroughly  sincere  in 
the  principles  he  professes,  ought  to  be  viewed  as  his 
glory  and  his  crown.  Without,  therefore,  entering  at  all 
into  the  merits  of  the  doctrines  he  advanced,  we  shall  only 
remark,  that  the  man  who  launches  out  into  the  storms  of 
religious  controversy,  ought  to  be  prepared  to  meet  the 
bnffettings  of  the  waves;  he  must  expect  the  warm  at- 
tacks of  his  opponents,  and  particularly  so,  if  the  tenets  he 
advances  be  ip  opposition  to  those  to  which  he  has  sworn 
his  belief;  and  miserable  must  be  his  feelings  if  be  is  not 


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47B  CLEAVER* 

prepared  to  withBtaod  such  hostiIity>  and  to  deriye  con** 
tolatioo  from  the  approbation  of  hid  friends^  and  the  still 
more  important  judgment  of  bis  own  conscience* 

We  turn  with  pleasure  to  the  amiable  qualities  mani- 
fested by  the  bishop  in  private  life.  The  objects  of  bis 
charity  were  numerous,  and  he  bestowed  bis  benefactions 
with  such  privacy,  that  it  might  be  truly  said  his  '^  left 
hand  knew  not  what  his  right  band  gave."  Being  a 
member  of  the  linen  board,  be  availed  himself  of  the  means 
of  doing  good  presented  to  him,  and  by  getting  wheels 
and  reels  for  the  poor  about  Clogher,  he  put  it  into  their 
power  to  maintain  themselves  by  the  exertion  of  honour** 
able  labour. 

The  bishop  left  behind  him  many  manuscripts,  the  fruits 
of  his  literary  industry,  but  not  in  a  state  fit  for  the  press. 
As  a  member  of  the  learned  societies  to  which  be  be» 
longed)  he  maintained  a  correspondence  with  men  of  the 
first  eminence  for  literature  and  science.  To  the  learned 
printer,  Mr.  Bowyer,  he  made  a  present  of  the  copyright 
of  all  his  works  published  in  England.  His  Lancashire 
estate  he  bequeathed  to  his  nearest  relation,  Richard  Clay- 
ton, Esq.  chief  justice  of  the  common  pleas  in  Ireland  ; 
but  the  principal  part  of  his  fortune  fell  to  Dr.  Barnard, 
who  had  married  his  niece. 


mb^  cleaver. 

Wipe  of  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  born  at 

in  Ireland,  and  descended  from  one  of  its  ancient  and  most 
honourable  families.  This  lady  stands  so  high  in  the 
records  of  excellence,  that  it  may  truly  be  said, "  When 
the  eye  saw  hef,  it  blessed  her ;''  when  the  ear  heard  of 
h^r,  it  was  iti  the  chorus  of  praise  and  admiration :  in  her 
was  united  all  the  warmth  and  libei-ality  of  the  Irish,  with 
the  solidity,  energy,  and  fortitude  of  the  English  character. 
Munificent  in  her  donations,  yet  her  benevolence  was  as 
extensive  as  her  generosity  was  unbonnded;  unosten- 
tatious in  her  charities,  as  in  nil  her  actions,  she  coDcealed 


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CLBRL  479 

tbeid  as  mtieh  ab  potsibKs  from  the  public  ey6.  She  seemed 
indeed  to  live  bat  for  the  welfare  of  Others ;  her  every 
pursuit  was  subservient  to  that  exalted  sense  of  duty 
which  was  the  ruling  principle  of  her  mind  and  the  great 
stimulus  of  all  her  actions.  The  benevolence  and  virtues 
of  her  heart  appeared  in  her  countenance,  and  gave  an  in- 
expressible charm  to  her  manners  and  conversation.  No 
one  retired  from  her  society  without  having  been  pleased ; 
and  very  few  without  improvement.  With  an  intuitive 
perception  of  all  that  was  elegant  or  graceful  in  language, 
and  dignified  in  conduct,  she  united  intellectual  endow* 
meats  which  would  have  rendered  her  conspicuous  in  any 
sphere  of  life,  had  she  pursued  the  paths  of  literature ;  but 
thedutiesof  daughter,  mother,  the  wife,  and  the  friend* 
engrossed  her  attention.  She  was  always  actively  engaged 
to  promote  happiness  at  home,  and  diffusing  it  in  the  wide 
circle  of  her  connections.  She  poured  consolation  into 
the  bosom  of  distress,  bound  up  the  broken  heart ;  ^'  visited 
the  fatherless  and  widow  in  their  affliction;''  '^  gave  to 
the  poor  bread ;"  to  the  sick  medicine ;  and  to  the  ignorant 
instruction^  Such  was  the  being  whose  decease  we  have 
to  record  and  lament,  on  the  1st  of  May,  1815.  She  had 
retired  to  rest  the  preceding  evening,  and  not  having 
risen  at  her  usual  time  in  the  morning,  the  family  became 
alarmed,  and  on  entering  her  chatilbet'i  found  her  dead,  ap- 
parently as  if  recently  engaged  in  prayer. 


MICHAEL  CLERI,  oe,  CLEIRIGH. 

X  HIS  historian  and  antiquary  was  a  nativeof  the  province 
of  Ulster,  a  friar  of  the  Franciscan  order ;  and  being  well 
skilled  in  the  language  and  antiquities  of  bis  country,  was 
one  of  the  envoys  sent  into  Ireland  from  Louvaib,  by 
Hugh  Ward,  to  collect  tbe  materials  for  his  work  relative 
to  the  Irish  Saints.  This  task  be  performed  with  indefa- 
tigable iadustry  For  about  fifteen  years,  «id  collected 
together  a  mass  of  information,  both  genealogical  and 
biogmphical,  and  which  proved  invaluable  (as  has  beed 


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4lO  CLOSB., 

recorded)  to  John  Colgan,  the  author  of  the  ^  Acta  Sane- 
tornm  Hiberbife/^ 

The  task  assigned  him  by  Hugh  Ward,  afforded  him 
an  opportunity  of  procuring  many  other  materials,  regard- 
ing both  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  history  of  his  country, 
which  he  digested  into  method  and  order;  and  with  the  aid 
of  several  skilful  antiquarians,  whom  he  employed  to  assist 
him,  he  not  only  compiled,  but  enlarged  three  historical 
treatises,  the  titles  of  which  are  to  be  found  in  Ware. 
By  the  assistance  likewise  of  the  aforesaid  antiquaries  (who 
were  Ferfessius  O'Mselchonaire,  or  Coury,  Peregrine 
O'Clery,  and  Peregrine  O^Dubgennan)  and  receiving 
occasionally  the  assistance  of  others,  he  compiled  and 
composed  a  treatise  in  a  convent  in  Donegal,  entitled, 
*'  The  Annals  of  Donegal."  A  work  which  O'Flaherty, 
in  his  Oxygia,  taxes  with  great  defects  in  point  of  chrono- 
logy; yet  (adds  Ware)  it  is  chiefly  depended  on,  and 
closely  followed  by  John  Lynch  and  John  Colgan. 

Cleri  also  arranged  and  published  a  dictionary  and  glos- 
sary of  the  most  difficult  and  obsolete  words  in  the  Irish 
language,  under  the  title  of  **  Senasan  Nuadh,  Louvain, 
1643/'  and  died  in  the  course  of  the  same  year. 


Sib  BARRY  CLOSE,  Baet. 
Was  a  native  of  Ireland,  and  an  officer  to  whose  eminent 
talents  and  strict  sense  of  public  duty,  the  East  India 
Company  are  deeply  indebted.  At  an  early  age  he  em- 
barked in  the  service  of  the  company  in  a  military  capacity, 
and  in  every  situation  to  which  he  was  progressively  ad- 
vanced, was  justly  pointed  out  as  a  model  for  imitation. 
For  many  years  he  was  adjutant-general  of  the  army 
attached  to  fort  St.  George,  in  which  capacity  he  exhibited 
talents  of  so  superior  and  scientific  a  cast,  and  acquired  so 
high  a  military  reputation,  as  to  introduce  him  to  the 
friendship  and  confidence  of  General  Harris.  This  valu- 
able connection  afforded  him  many  opportunities  during 
the  memorable  siege  of  Seringapatam,  of  distinguishing 


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COGHILL.  «81 

^inaself  ia  such  a  manner  at  to  obtain  mach  of  the  glory 
which  accrued  to  the  British  arms  from  that  brilliant 
achievement.  When  peace  was  restored  to  that  country 
by  the  overthrow  of  the  house  of  Hyder^  and  the  nominal 
re-establishment  of  the  hereditary  rajah  on  the  throne  of 
Mysore,  the  Marquess  Wellesley  entrusted  to  him  the  im- 
portant office  of  resident  at  that  court,  in  which  and  in 
other  diplomatic  employments,  he  exhibited  political 
talent,  not  inferior  to  his  military  abilities.  His  concilia* 
tory  manners  and  firmness  of  naind,  joined  to  a  complete 
knowledge  of  the  language,  manners,  and  history,  of  the 
natives,  rendered  him  as  popular  among  them,  as  among 
his  countrymen.  On  his  return  to  England,  he  was  elevated 
to  the  dignity  of  a  baronet;  and  died  in  April  1813,  un- 
fortunately for  that  country,  whidi  he  had  served  with  a 
warmth  of  public  spirit  almost  unequalled  during  a  period 
of  forty-two  years. 


MARMADUKE  COGHILL 
W^AS  born  in  Dublin,  on  the  S8th  December,  1673,  and 
was  admitt^  a  fellow  commoner  of  Trinity  college  in 
1687 ;  here  he  took  his  degree  of  doctor  of  civil  law, 
and  was  chosen  one  of  its  representatives  in  parliament, 
which  mark  of  respect  and  esteem  his  constituents  con^ 
ferred  on  him  till  the  time  of  his  decease.  After  filling 
several  important  offices,  he  was  appointed  chancellor  of 
the  Irish  exchequer,  in  1735,  which  situation  he  held  with 
great  repute  during  the  rest  of  his  life.  He  died  of  that 
fatal  disorder,  the  gout  in  the  stomach,  in  1738,  and  was 
interred  in  St.  Andrew's  church-yard.  In  public  life  he 
was  a  man  of  unwearied  diligence  and  clear  judgment,  an 
equally  upright  counsellor  of  the  crown,  and  independent 
repnesentative  of  the  people.  As  one  of  the  first  commis- 
sioners of  the  board  of  first  fruits,  he  may  be  said  to  have 
organised  that  body,  and  to  have  been  the  prime  cause  of 
all  the  benefits  which  arise  to  the  established  chorch  rn 
Ireland  from  his  exertions.    lo  private  lifehe  was  univer- 

VOL.  1.  I  1 


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4tt  COLE.  ' 

fftlly  beloved  lor  kift  beaeyoleMe,  affability,  aid  sweetMts 
of  temper.  Hi«  sitter,  Mary  Coghill,  erected  the  ebvreb 
of  Drumcoodra,  near  Dublin,  at  a  Hionomeot  of  reapeot 
and  afieetioD  to  bis  memory,  aod  omarimiied  it  with  a 
tomb,  sculptured  by  Scheemaker. 


SiE  JOHN  COLE 
Was  descend^  froaii  the  ancient  family  6f  the  Coles  of 
DeTonsbire,  and  was  the  second  son  of  ^r  Williaaa  Cok, 
wbo  was  the  first  of  the  family  settled  in  Ireland. 

The  year  of  Sir  John's  birth  has  ad  beeo  recorded. 
Dnring  the  unhappy  dissensions,  he  was  rery  actiTO  undet 
bis  father,  particularly  in  the  relief  of  Enniskillen,  which 
bavii^  been  besieged  nine  weeks  by  fifteen  hundred  me% 
under  Philip  M'Hugh  O'Reily,  they  were  surprised  in  m 
sally  by  Walter  Johnson,  an  officer  under  Sir  William, 
who  being  seconded  by  Sir  Jphn,  with  his  foot-company, 
and  some  volunteers,  they  raised  the  sieee,  and  led  the 
pursuit  of  the  enemy  for  seven  mites,  as  uht  as  Maguire's 
bridge. 

^fter  the  reduction  of  Ireland  by  the  pariiameat,  he  was 
appointed,  with  others,  on  die 81st  November,  l6Sd,  c6n>- 
mis&ioQers  for  the  precinct  of  Belturbet,  to  consider  hew 
the  titles  of  the  Irish  and  others  to  an  estate  in  Ireland, 
and  also  their  delinqnency  according  to  their  respective 
qualifications,  might  be  put  into  the  most  speedy  and 
exacV  way  of  acjjustment. 

On  the  27th  of  February  following,  he  had  the  pay  of 
J  8/.  4s.  allowed  him  by  the  month,  as  governor  of  £nni»> 
killin,  and  being  very  instrumental  in  promoting  the  res« 
toration  of  King  Charles  II.  his  majesty  by  privy  seal, 
dated  at  Whitehall,  4th  August,  and  by  patent,  ^rd  Jana«> 
ary,  1660,  created  him  a  baronet,  in  consideration  of  his 
very  many  good  services  performed  to  him ;  and  on  the 
ISth  of  December  gave  him  a  cc^nel's  commissioa  in  a 
regiment  of  foot,  to  which  he  was  appointed  on  the  iMted 
of  March  following;  having  on  the  Ifitb  been  oen^uied 


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COLGAN.  46S 

one  of  ih^  eommittiontn  f^r  the  u^iHtrntni  of  tbe  king*, 
dom,  for  which  purpose  he  bad  a  grant  of  idnds. 

H^  was  oiember  of  parliaokent  for  the  cooaty  of  F^rina^ 
nagb,  of  which  countj  he  wasippeidted  oosios  rotbloram 
on  the  find  of  April,  1 66 1  •  He  married  Elizabeth,  daughter 
of  John  Chichester,  Esq.  of  Dungannoo,  by  whom  he  had 
four  sons  and  seven  daughters^  and  died  in  or  aboat  the 
year  1603. 

IMF   'M ,Hi"     ' 

JOHN  COLGAN, 
A  MATiTB  ^f  the  county  of  Donegal,  and  celebrated, 
both  as  an  author  aiid  a  scholar;  was  a  strict  Franci^caii 
friar  in  the  Irish  convent  of  St.  Anthony  of  Padua,  in  Lou- 
tain,  in  which  he  was  professor  of  divinity.  He  Was 
thoroughly  aoqaaittted  with  the  Irish  language,  And  like- 
wise possessed  a  great  kndwledge  of  the  antiquities  and 
diarcfa  history  of  his  country,  by  the  acquiremeht  of 
which  learning,  he  was  admirably  qualified  for  the  praise^ 
worthy  and  laborious  Work  in  which  he  had  engaged, 
Namely,  the  collecting  and  writing  the  lives  6f  the  Irish 
saints ;  a  work  in  which  he  was  greatly  aided  by  the  col* 
lections  made  for  the  same  parpose  by  Hugh  Ward*,  who 
was  unfortunately  prevented  from  carrying  his  int^ntidn* 
into  effect  by  Sadden  death.  He  (Colgan)  gave  op  the 
greater  part  of  his  time  and  talents  to  thi^  work,  and  has 
published  two  large  folio  voluoties,  illustrated  with  many 
Aotes,  both  useful  and  learned,  espetially  in  what  regardi 

^  Hagh  Ward  was  likewise  a  aaflfS  of  the  connty  of  Donegal,  but 
i^tesbred  part  of  his  ediMSti^a  St  Saloaiatiea  aad  fiart  in  Pkuis ;  and  aher- 
wards  was  made  lectorar,  and  fhtn  gilsrdian  of  the  Irish  ooUege  at  I^* 
vain.  Prior  to  which  he  was  admitted  into  the  order  of  Fsaociscaji  friars 
at  Salamanca,  in  the  year  1616.  He  was  a  man  deeply  read  in  Hibernian 
antlqvltifSy  Imd  nndertobk  the  writing  a  complete  History  6f  the  Lives  of 
Aeaslatsof  telaad.  For  which  parpOi^  be  ero^dy^on^BliclMlO'Clsrsr^ 
who  was  likewise  a  friar  of  the  same  ord^,  |ln#  seat  him  ftfoai  JLsavldp  to 
Irdand  to  search  for  manuscripts  and  to  o^ct  materials  for  the  work. 
The  finisUng  of  which  was  prevented  by  the  anthor's  sadden  decease,  on 
tfM  8th  November,  lass  i  and  the  whole  of  his  papers  caase  into  Om  pos- 
i  of  Joha  rolfSBi  sad  ww  sliigitstfj  osefol  to  hha. 


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484  COLGAN. 

the  ancient  topography  of  Ireland,  and  has  annexed  to 
them  large  and  complete  tables.  The  last  of  these  volumes 
in  order  was  the  first  printed  and  entitled  "  Acta  Sanc' 
torum  Veteris  et  Majoris  Scotiae  seu  Uibernise,  8cc.&c." 
Lov.  1645. — Folio. — His  intention  (says  Ware)  was,  first 
to  publish  one  general  Treatise,  or  Synopsis  of  the  Eccle- 
siastical Antiquities  of  Ireland.  Secondly,  The  Acts  of 
St.  Patrick,  St.  Colamb,  and  St.  Bridgit.  And,  thirdly, 
to  write  the  Lives  and  Acts  of  the  other  Saints  of  Ireland, 
according  to  the  order  of  the  months  and  days,  which 
would  occupy  many  volumes.  But  the  first  part  of  this 
last  work  being  earliest  ready  for  the  press,  he  presented 
it  to  the  public  eye,  and  called  it  the  first  volume,  though 
the  third  of  what  he  intended  for  his  Ecclesiastical  Anti^r 
<)uities.^  Into  this  volume  he  brought  all  the  saint^  of 
Ireland  who  died  during  the  first  three  months  of  the  year, 
and  it  is  suspected  some  Scots  and  English,  such  as  he 
could  lay  the  least  claim  to;  yet  is  far  short  (oontiaueih 
the  same  author)  of  making  sufficient  reprisals  on  Mr. 
Dempster  who  with  so  bare  a  face  hath  plundered  the 
Irish  calendar,  and  from  thence  got  the  nick-name  of 
ay4oxXMifkf,  or  the  Saint^stealer.  Peter  Talbot,  a  man  qC 
^*  good  parts  and  learning,"  gives  our  author  the  title  and 
character  of  Incitorum  Carrosor,  or  a  raker  together  of 
uncertain  and  unknown  lives.  The  second  volume  of  this 
work  was  printed  at  Lonvain  in  1647.  In  this  volume  he 
hath  given  seven  different  lives  of  St.  Patrick,  five  of  St. 
Columb,  and  six  of  St.  Bridgit,  to  which  he  has  annexed 
appendixes,  notes,  and  indexes. 

He  died  at  Louvain  in  1658,  and  his  death  frustrated 
bis  intention  of  giving  to  the  public  the  lives  of  the  Irish 
Saints  for  the  other  nine  months  of  the  year. 

Several  manuscript  volumes  of  his  writings  are  yet 
remaining  at  Louvain,  the  titles  of  which  are  to  be  found 
in  Harris's  Edition  of  Ware. 


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485 


St.  COLUMBA,  or,  COLUMKJLLE, 

Was  one  of  the  greatest  patriarchs  of  the  mooastic  order 
hi  IrelaDdy  and  the  apostle  of  the  Picts.  To  distingaish 
him  from  other  saints  of  the  same  name,  he  was  aurnamed 
Columkille,  from  the  great  number  of  monastic  cells,, 
called  by  the  Irish^  killeSf  of  which  he  was  the  founder. 
He  was  of  the  noble  extraction  of  Neil»  and  was  bom  at 
Gartan,  in  the  county  of  Tyrconnel,  in  521,  and  early 
learned  the  di?in;e  Scriptures,  and  the  lessons  of  an  ascetic, 
life  under  the  celebrated  bishop  of  St.  Ferrian,  in  his 
great  school  of  Cluain-iraird,  and  esteemed  nothing  worthy 
his  pursuit  that  did  not  assist  him  in  the  disengagement 
of  his  mind  from  the  world,  and  the  advance  of  religion 
and  holiness  in  his  heart.  Being  advanced  to  the  order  of 
priesthood  in  546,  he  gave  admirable  lessons  of  piety, 
and  sacred  learning,  and  was  soon  attended  by  many 
disciples.  He  founded,  about  the  year  550,  the  great 
monastery  of  Dair-magb,  now  called  Durrogh,  and  Sir 
iames  Ware  mentions  a  MS.  copy  of  the  four  gospels  of 
St.  Jerome's  translation,  adorned  with  silver  plates,  as 
then  extant,  preserved  in  this  abbey.  He  likewise  founded 
many  other  monasteries  of  less  note ;  and  the  same  antiqua* 
rian  observes,  that  a  rule  composed  by  St.  Columba,  then 
existed  in  the  old  Irish.  This  rule  he  settled  in  the  hun- 
dred monasteries,  which  he  founded  in  Ireland  and  Scot- 
land. King  Dermot  (like  great  men  of  more  modern 
times)  being  offended  at  the  zeal  which  reproved  public 
vices,  St.  Columba  determined  on  leaving  his  native 
country;  and  with  his  twelve  disciples  passed  into  Scot« 
land,  and  was  successful  in  converting  the  king  of  the 
northern  Picts,  together  with  his  subjects.  These  Picts, 
having  embraced  the  faith,  gave  St.  Columba  the  little 
island  of  Hy,  or  lona,  called  from  him-~Y-colin-kille, 
twelves  miles  froni  the  land,  in  which  he  built  the  great 
monastery,  which  was  for  several  ages  the  chief  seminary 
of  North  Britain,  and  continued  long  the  burying-place  of 


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480  COLUMBA. 

the  kiDgs,  and  other  superior  persouaget.  Lewis,  io  bis 
ancient  History  of  Great  Brijtain,  mentions  the  remains  of 
the  tomb*  in  tfa^  cbai'ch-jard,  of  forty-eight  kings  of 
Seotlandi  fonr  kings  of  Ireland,  and  eight  kidgs  of  Norway* 

St.  Colamba's  manner  of  living  was  most  austere;  his 
fasting  extraordinary,  the  bare  floor  his  bed^  and  a  stone 
his  pillow ;  yet  he  was  mild  and  cbeerfol,  and  his  general 
benificedce  won  him  the  hearts  of  all ;— «be  considered  time 
of  so  much  value,  that  be  suffered  no  minutes  to  pa^ 
without  employment,  and  that  employment  of  the  bedt 
kind,  promoting  religion  and  virtue  in  his  own  person; 
and  oommonicating  the  same  by  example  and  preoept  to 
all  aroand  bim,— a  rare  example  to  the  priesthood  of  all 
denominations.  In  the  MS.  life  of  St.  Columba  by 
O'Donnell^  it  is  asserted  that  in  the  year  544,  being  a 
prince  of  the  royal  family,  he  was  offer^  the  crown  of 
Ireland,  and  that  Dermod  M'Cerball,  bis  competitor,  sac* 
ceeded  only  because  our  holy  abbot  preferred  the  cowl  to 
the  diadem,  an  evident  proof  of  the  sincerity  of  his  devo- 
tion, and  the  humility  of  his  mind. 

He  died  in  the  seventy^seventh  year  of  his  age,  And  was 
buried  in  the  island,  but  was  ftome  ages  after  removed  to 
Down,  in  Ulstef,  and  laid  in  one  vault  with  the  remains  of 
St.  Patrick  and  St.  Brigit. 

It  is  justly  observed  by  Batler,  that  formerly,  christians 
bid  themselves  in  solitudes,  that  they  migfat  more  imme* 
diately  devote  themselves  to  the  service  of  God ;  but  now, 
after  a  christian  education,  too  many  pass  their  whole 
lives  in  dissipation  and  vanity,  without  being  able  to  find 
leisurf  for  serious  meditation  or  reading,  as  if  they  made 
it  their  study  to  unlearn  the  chief  thing  which  it  concerns 
them  to  know,  and  to  love  the  only  tiling  for  which  jlhey 
exist  — ^-religion,  or  the  worship  of  God. 

£ND  OP  VOL  t 


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INDEX 


IPO  T««  -    -    - 

FIRST    VOLUME. 


lA^eroethyy  JohB ^  1 

Alezfttder,  ^ohn 0 

Apne8ley,Artbar^£arlofAiglaey  0 

Arcbdale^i  M^'yyi' 17 

Afchdekiiiy  Ricbar^ ,  19 

Artl|nr,j9ffiei Up 

A4h,  St.  George 21 

Atkinson,  Joseph ........  1^ 

AyerUl,4olw U 

Aylmer,  Matthew fs 

Aybner,  Oeorge •  9 

9«UUe,  CaptiMii  William  .  .  .  .  » 

9arber,  Mary   .  » 38 

Barnewall,  Antliony 88 

Baroy  or  Baron,  Bonaventiira  .  99 

Barret,  George SI 

Barrett,  Dr.  James Si 

Barrett,  Captain  JohD 14 

Barry,  DaTid  Fitzjames,  Ms- 

count  Batte?ant 10 

Barry,  Da?id,  first  Earl  of  Bar- 

rymore 41 

Barry,  James,  Lord  Santry   .  .  42 

Barry,  Spranger 44 

Barry,  James w  .  68 

Bathe,  William 74 

Beard,  Thomas 75 

Beling,  Richard  ...>....  78 


Pagr 
Airkeley,  George,  Bisha^  ^f 

Ckqme 78 

Birmingham,  Hon.  MiB.  ...    96 
Btmardy   Hatilet  Galbeiiiift^ 
Counteai  of  BaDdaa  ^ .  .  .  •    9r 

BIrkerstaff;  Isaac 99 

Mnoipgham,  Sir  John,  Earl  of 

Unth ,  IIP 

Blftck.Joseph m 

Mriimhe«  Brion « 111 

Borlase,  Edmnnd 122 

Myd,  Hugh  Maoavky IM 

Bayle,  Richard 128 

B«yle,  Roger .188 

Boyle,  Francis,  Viscomit  Shan- 
non   152 

Boyle,  Hon.  Hobert 158 

Boyle,  fienrietta,  Lady  CNeil  177 

ftoyl^,  Roger 179 

Boyse,  Samnel 179 

Bjrabazon,  Willian^  first  Earl  of 

Meath iPf 

Brady,  Nicholas 198 

Brereton,  Lieot*Gen 200 

Brigit,  St. 200 

Brodrick,  Allan,  first  Viscomit 

Middleton 201 

Brooke,  Henry 208 

Bi^pA^  tSiartotte 211 


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INDEX. 


Page 
Brooks,  or  Brookes,  John  .  .  •  218 
Brouncker,  Sir  WiUiam,  Vis- 
.count  of  Castle-Lyons  ....  814 

Brown,  Dr.  Jemmet 215 

Browne,  Peter 222 

Browne,  Patrick 225 

Bnnworth,  Charles 228 

Bnrgli,  Walter  Hnssey 229 

Burke,  Edward 281 

Barke,  Richard .  271 

Burke,  Walter  . 272 

Bums,  John 278 

Burrowes,  Alexander  Saunder- 

son 274 

Butler,  James,  fourth  Earl  of 
Ormond  ...........  275 

Butler,  Richard,  third  Viscount 

Mountgarret .  278 

Butler,  Thomas,  Earl  of  Ossory  281 
Butler,  James,  Duke  of  Or- 
monde   286 

Butts,  John 295 

Byrne,  Charles 296 

Byrne,  Charles 296 

Byrne,  Ifiss 297 

Curran,JohnPhUpot 298 

Caldwell,  Sir  James 864 

Caldwell,  Hume 866 


Page 

CaMweU,  Henry 874 

Caldwell,  Charies 875 

Caldwell,  Andrew 876 

Cantwell,  Andrew 877 

Carleton,  Sir  Guy,  Lord  Dor- 
chester   877 

Carolan,l'urlough 888 

Caron,  Redmond 888 

Carter,  Thomas 890 

Caolfield,  William,  second  Vis- 
count Chariemont  891 

Caulfield,  James,  Earl  of  Char- 
iemont .  •  .  .  ; 892 

Centlivre,  Susannah 454 

Chandler,  Edward 460 

Cherry,  Andrew 462 

Chichester,  Arthur,  Earl  of  Do- 
negal   467 

Clancy,  Michael 469 

Clare,  Benjamin 471 

Clayton,    Robert,   Bishop    of' 

aogher 471 

Cleaver,  Mrs 478- 

Cleiri,  or  Cleirigh,  Ificbael   .  .  479 

dose,  Sir  Barry 480 

Co|^,  Marmaduke 481 

Cole,  Sir  John 482 

Colgan,  John 488 

Columba,  or  Columkille,  St  •  .  485 


TO  THE  BINDEft, 

PoRTRATT  OF  CuRRAN,  to  facc  the  Title. 
LiTHooRAPBic  Srbtcu  to  frco  Page  66. 


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Rupert  AlrMt,  Um^marJUtt  L^ndtn, 


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