A BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

OF THE

WORTHIES OF IRELAND,

FROM THE

EARLIEST PERIODS TO THE PRESENT TIME,

WRITTEN AND COMPILED

By RICHARD RYAN

“On Lough Neagh’s bank as the fisherman strays, 
“When the clear cold eve’s declining, 
“He sees the round towers of other days 
“In the wave beneath him shining: 
“Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime,
 “Catch a glimpse of the days that are over;
“Thus sighing, look through the waves of Ene, 
“For the sone faded glories they cover.’ 
 ——Moore’s Irish Melodies.

LONDON: PUBLISHED BY RICHARD RYAN, No. 339, OXFORD STREET; AND M.N. MAHON; AND R. MILLIKEN, DUBLIN.

1819.

—Preface Dedicatory 
TO THE IRISH NATION. 
Biography is of all narratives the most valuable. The revolutions of empires would be but a fairy 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 interest is thrown round Biography, when it is appealed 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 calamitous . 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 

iv PREFACE. 

subordinate mischiefs of a divided law, a divided language, and a divided 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 progress was as suddenly checked, and they only increased the tumult and the dangers of that untamed 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 without 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 north, 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 creation rising and glowing round him’; but she lay without the “breath in her nostrils,” 

PREFACE. v 

The cause of these deplorable calamities was not in the ‘English legislature; the crime of that. legislature 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 was a graduated tyranny, in which the sovereign stood at the highest point of licentiousness; 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 wisdom 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, from which she never cast her eyes, but to see 

vi PREFACE. 

the banners of France and Spain moving against her; or, if she turned round to. look upon the dissensions 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 night 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 future. The darkest periods of Ireland have been rich in evidence of such beings —meteors ascending in her dungeon and mine, as if. to 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 

PREFACE. vii 

roused mankind to a noble emulation, or borne testimony against its abuse of the munificence of heaven. 

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

The ‘Work to which we now solicit the public attention, is a volume of 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 industry, 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.

BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

WORTHIES OF IRELAND.

JOHN ABERNETHY, 

AN eminent presbyterian divine, was born on the 19th of October, 1680, at Coleraine, in the county of Londonderry. 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 them by a chain of circumstances, which, in the end, proved highly favorable [sic]. 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 son was at that period with a relation, who in the general confusion determined to remove to Scotland, and having no opportunity of conveying the child to his mother, carried ‘him off along with him. Thus he providentially escaped the dangers attending the siege of Derry, in which Mrs. ° Abernethy lost all her other children. Having spent some 

2 ABERNETHY. 

years at a grammar school, at the early age of thirteen he was removed to the college at Glasgow, where he remained till he had taken the degree of master of arts. His own inclination led him to the study of medicine, but, 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 Route, before 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 was ordained at Antrim, where his 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, and he maintained his character and his interest in their esteem to the last, notwithstanding a change im his religious sentiments had excited the opposition of a violent and highly-gifted antagonists, 
In 1716, he attempted to remove the prejudices of the native Irish, in the neighbourhood of Antrim, who were of the popish persuasion, and induce them to embrace the protestant religion. His labours in this design. were attended with but moderate success, for notwithstanding several, who were induced to abandon popery, continued firm in their attachment to protestant principles, yet others, to his great discouragement and mortification, reverted to their former persuasion. In the following year he received two invitations, one from Dublin, and sitter from Belfast; and the synod (whose authority at that time was very great) advised his removal to Dublin; but so strong was’ his attachment to his congregation at Antrim, that he 

ABERNETHY. 3. 
resolved to'continue there at the peril of incurring their displeasure. The interference of this assembly was diametrically opposite to those sentiments of religious freedom which Mr. Abernethy had been'led to entertain, both by the exercise of his own vigorous faculties, and by an attention ‘to the Bangorian controversy which prevailed in England about this period. Encouraged by the freedom of discussion which it had occasioned, a considerable number of ‘ministers and others in the north of Ireland, formed themselves into a society for improvement in useful knowledge; their professed aim was to bring things to the test of reason and scripture, instead of paying a servile regard to'any human authority. This laudable design is supposed to 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 consequence of the debates and dissensions which were occasioned by it, several persons withdrew from the society, and those who adhered to it were distinguished by the appellation of non-subscribers. Their avowed principles were these, “First, that our Lord Jesus Christ hath in the new testament determined and fixed the terms of communion in his church; that all christians who comply with these have a right to communion, and that no man, or set’ of men, have power to add any other terms 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‘ Westminster 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 communion if they should refuse it, and this merely upon suspicions and jealousies, while the persons required to purge themselves by such declarations cannot be fairly convicted upon evidence of any error or 

4 ABERNETHY. 

heresy, is to exercise an exorbitant and arbitrary power, and is really an inquisition.” 
Mr. Abernethy was justly considered as the head of the non-subscribers, 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 Jatter 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 contending 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 difference of sentiment concerning subscription to the Westminster 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 1726, the synod determining that the non-subscribers should no longer remain of their body, and reviving with additional force the act of 1705, which required the candidates for the ministry. to subscribe to the Westminster confession. From that time the excluded members formed themselves into a separate presbytery, and encountered many difficulties and hardships arising from jealousies spread among their people. 
Mr. tala he de now found that. his suarly 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 provided 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 

ABERNETHY. 5 

of Wood street, Dublin, which he accepted, and 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 full length, and constantly using his notes in the pulpit. The Irish dissenters being at this time desirous of emancipating 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 advantages, to which they had a natural and just title as freeborn 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 heritage 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 been prolonged, a sudden attack of the gout in the head (to which disorder he had ever been subject) frustrated all their hopes, and he expired universally lamented in December 1740, in the 60th year of his age; dying as he had lived, esteemed by all mankind, and with a cheerful acquiescence to the will of an all-wise Creator. Mr. Abernethy was twice married; first, shortly after his settlement at Antrim, to a lady of exemplary piety, whom he lost by death in 1712; and, secondly, after his 

6 ALEXANDER. 
removal to Dublin to another lady, with whom he lived in all the tenderness of conjugal affection till the time of his 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 his life-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 1757; to which is prefixed the life of the author, supposed to have been written by his countryman, Dr. Duchal. — Another volume was likewise published in London, in 1751, entitled “Scarce and valuable Tracts and Sermons,” &e. 
He also left behind him a diary of his life, commencing in February 1712, a short time after his wife’s decease. 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 temper of his soul is throughout expressed with much exactness. The whole bearing striking characters of a reverence and awe of the divine presence upon his mind, of a simplicity and sincerity of spirit, and of the most careful discipline 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 born in the commencement of 1736, in Ireland, to which country, 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 Eng

ALEXANDER. 7 

land, and settled at Birmingham. Here he went through the common course of grammatical instruction, and was afterwards sent to the academy, at Daventry, which was then under the superintendance of Dr. Caleb Ashworth, who had been appointed tutor on the decease-of that eminent divine, Dr. Philip Doddridge. He pursued his studies in this seminary with commendable diligence, and after having finished his academical and classical education under the care of that excellent instructor, was put under the tuition of Dr. Benson. This gentleman, whose abilities as a ‘sacred critic are generally acknowledged to be very extensive, was in the habit of receiving a few young gentlemen, who had passed through the usual course of education at the schools or in the universities, for the purpose of implanting in them a more critical acquaintance with the sacred writings. It was with ‘this intent that young Alexander was put under his care;. and so delighted was that amiable man with his pupil’s literary acquirements, with his constant and eager desire for improvement, and the prudence and modesty of his personal behaviour, that he gave him his board, and introduced him, with paternal affection, to all his particular acquaintance, expressing the highest regard for him on every occasion.; 
During his residence in London, Mr. Alexander omitted no opportunity of adding to his stock of knowledge; andy on quitting the metropolis, he retired to Birmingham, where the resided for some time with his mother. He now preached occasionally at that place and in its neighbourhood; and afterwards with more regularity at Longdor, a small village about twelve miles distant. On Saturday, Dec. 28, 1765, he retired to rest, as usual, between eleven .and. twelve o’clock, with the intention of officiating the next day at Longdor, but, at six on. the following morning, he was found dead in his ‘bed; an event which was sincerely deplored by his friends, as both a private and public loss. 

8 ALEXANDER. 

Shortly after his decease, some part of the produce of his. studies was published in 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 Commentary, 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 Alexander.” 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 justness of this encomium is abundantly evident from the work now mentioned, which contains indubitable proofs of great sagacity and learning. The preliminary Dissertation 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 inconsiderable 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,” supposed to have been conducted principally by Dr. Keppis, and which was published in London in 1761 and 1762; in an ironical “Defence of Persecution,” “Essays on Dull> 

ANNESLEY. 9

 ness, Common Sense, Misanthropy, the Study of Man, Controversy, the Misconduct of Parents, Modern Authorship, 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, not inferior 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. His compositions for the pulpit were close, heartfelt, and correct; his delivery clear, distinct, and unassuming; yet, with all these abilities, he would scarcely have become a popular preacher, though his manner and doctrine might deservedly obtain the approbation and esteem of the more judicious among his hearers. 
The following is an extract from the letter of an intimate friend of John Alexander’s: “Indeed, his life was only a sketch, but it was a master-piece of its kind. The virtue, learning, and knowledge, which he crowded into it, would have done honour to the longest period of human existence. I think I knew him well; yet I am persuaded half his merit was unknown even to his most intimate friends, It was his talent to conceal his worth.” 

ARTHUR ANNESLEY
EARL OR ANGLESEY, and lord privy seal in the reign of Charles II was the son of Sir Francis Annesley, Bart. Lord Mountnorris, and Viscount Valentia in Ireland; and was born'in Dublin on the 10th of July, 1614. At the age of ten years he was sent to England, and at sixteen was entered a fellow commoner of Magdalen College, Oxford; where he pursued his studies with great diligence for about three or four years, and was considered a young man of great promise by all who knew him. From thence, in 1634, he removed to Lincolns Inn, 

10 ANNESLEY. 

where he applied, with great assiduity to the study of the law, till his father sent him to travel. He made the tour of Europe, and continued some time at Rome; from whence he returned to England in 1640, when he was elected knight of the shire for the county of Radnor in the parliament which sat at Westminster in the November of the same year; but the election being contested, he lost his seat, the votes of the House being against him, and Charles Price, Esq. his opponent, was declared duly elected. At the commencement of the dispute between King Charles I and his parliament, Mr. Annesley inclined towards the royal cause, and sat in the parliament held at Oxford in 1643; but afterwards thought proper to abandon the king’s party and reconcile himself to his adversaries, into the favour and confidence of whom he was soon admitted. In 1645 he was appointed, by the parliament, one of their commissioners in Ulster, where he managed the important business with which he was entrusted to the satisfaction of all parties, and contributed greatly to the benefit of the protestant cause in Ireland. With so much dexterity and judgment did he. conclude his affairs at Ulster, that the famous Owen Roe O’Neil was disappointed in his designs, and the Catholic Archbishop. 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 correspondence with him, they made choice of a second committee, and very wisely placed Mr. Annesley’s name.at the head of this second commission. The commissioners landed at Dublin on the 7th day of June, 1647; and, by their prudence and temper, brought their negociations [sic pasim] to so happy an issue, that in a few days a treaty was concluded 

ANNESLEY. 11 

with the Lord-Lieutenant, which was signed on the 19th of that month, and Dublin was put into the hands of the parliament. 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 immediately 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 some 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 whether the parliament was not dissolved by the death of the king, resolved to get into the House if possible, and behaved in many respects, in such a manner as clearly evinced what his real sentiments were, and how much he. had 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 constitution, 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 unfortunately 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 Anglesey, and Baron of Newport Pagnel in Bucks: in the patent of which notice is taken of the signal services 
* Which happened on Feb. 21, 1660, Mr. Annesley was chosen President of the Council of State, having at that time opened a nortespond snes ‘with the maued Charles. 

12 ANNESLEY. 

rendered by him to his Majesty, to whoin he manifested his loyalty and attachment by sitting as one of the judges on the trials of the regicides. He-had always a considerable share in the King’s favour;. and was heard, with great attention, both at the council and in the House of Lords. In 1667, he was made treasurer of the navy, and on the 4th of February, 1672, his Majesty, in council, was pleased to appoint the Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Anglesey, the Lord Holles, the Lord Ashley Cooper, and Mr. Secretary Trevor, to be a committee to peruse and revise all the papers and writings concerning the settlement 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 the Ist of August, 1672, to Prince Rupert, the Dukes of Buckingham and Lauderdale, Earl of Anglesey, Lords Ashley and Holles, Sir Joho 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. Ata time when it was the practice to invent popish plots, he was publicly charged, at the bar of the House of Commons, (in October 1680,) by one Dangerfield, in an information delivered upon oath, with endeavouring to stifle evidence concerning the popish plot, to promote the belief of a presbyterian 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 Commons, which asserted the belief of an Irish popish plot. 
On account of this conduct, he 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 1680, the Earl of Castlehaven wrote Memoirs concerning the affairs of Ireland, wherein he represented the general 

ANNESLEY. 13 

rebellion in Ireland in the lightest colours possible, as if it had 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 Castlehaven, wherein ‘he delivered his opinion, freely in respect to the Duke of Ormond ‘and his; government in Ireland. ‘The Duke expostulated with .the lord. privy seal on the subject, to which the Earl replied. In 1682, 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 your most excellent Majesty, 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 apprehended, and which may cause a fire which may burn and consume us to the very foundations, is the unhappy. perversion 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 liberties, 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 impending 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 declarations, but by a solemn oath upon your throne, been obliged, in a most glorious presence of your people, to the main

14 ANNESLEY: 

tenance of; and that therefore you will look upon any that shall propose or advise to the contrary as unfit persons to be near you, and on those who shall persuade you it is lawful as sordid ffatterers, and the worst and mostdahgerous enemies, you and your kingdoms have. What I have set before your 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 discharged my duty, and will account it a reward if your 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 his free style of writing to the king, but the Duke of Ormond was easily prevailed upon to exhibit a charge against him on account of his. reflections on the Earl of Castlehaven’s Memoirs, (ia the which, for his own justification, he had been obliged to. reflect on theduke): this produced a severe contest between 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 his enemies were obliged to confess he was treated with both severity and injustice. After this overthrow he lived very much in retirement at his country seat at Blechington in Oxfordshire, where he seemingly resigned all ambitious views, and devoted his time to the calm enjoyment of study; but so well versed was he in the mysteries of court intrigues, that he got into favour again in the reign of James Il. 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 house in Drury-lane, April 6, 1686, in the 73rd year of his age. He left several children by his wife, who was one of the co-heiresses of Sir James Altham.: 
He was a man endowed with superior talents and extensive learning, was well versed in the Greek and Roman 

ANNESLEY. 15 

history, and. thoroughly. acquainted’ with the spirit and policy of those nations. The legal and constitutional history of his country were the objects of his particular study, both of which he had pursued with so much perseverance 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: bistori¢ narratives; but the largest and most valuable of all his works of this description was unfortunately lost, or, as some insinuate, maliciously destroyed; this was ‘ A History of the Troubles in: Ireland, from 1641 to 1660.” He was one of the first English peers who distinguished himself by collecting a choice library, which he did with much care and at a great expense, designing it to remain in his family, but owing to some circumstances which have not been explained, his books, a few months after his decease, were exposed to sale by a Mr. Millington, a famous auctioneer of that period. This sale has been rendered memorable by the discovery of the Earl’s famous memorandum in the blank leaf of an [Gk phr.], which was as follows: “King Charles the Second, and the Duke of York did both (in the last session of parliament 1675), when L 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 compiling, but made by Dr. Gauden, Bishop of Exeter, which here insert for the undeceiving others in this point by attesting thus much under my hand, ANGLESEY:” But perhaps the reader will doubt the genuineness of this memorandum, if he reads “A Vindication of King Charles the Martyr,” published in quarto, in. 1711. Indeed Bishop Burnet, in his History of his own Times, vol .i. p. 50, relates pretty near the same foolish story; but if the reader carefully considers that passage, he will evidently see it destroys itself, for, amongst other things that may be justly observed against the veracity of that account, he (Burnet) speaks of the Duke of Somerset and the Earl of Southampton, as living at a time when it 

16 ANNESLEY. 

is well known they were both dead. His versatility, in regard to his 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, published 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 Observations and Reflections on his Lordship’s Memoirs concerning the Wars of Ireland,” 1681, 8vo.—3. “A True Account of the whole Proceedings between James Duke of Ormond, and Arthur Earl of Anglesey, before the King and his Council,” &c. 1682, 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 between both Houses, April 19 and 22, 1671: 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,” 1693, 8vo. 

17 

Rev. MERVYN ARCHDALL 
AN exemplary divine and learned antiquary, was descended from John Archdall, of Norsom-Hall, in the county of Norfolk, who came into Ireland in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and settled at Castle Archdall, in the county of Fermanagh, prior to the year 1692. 
The subject of the present memoir was born 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 his research into the monastic history of Ireland, introduced him to the celebrated Walter Harris, the learned editor of Ware’s Works; Charles Smith, the author of the Irish County Histories; Thomas Prior (the celebrated patriot), whose relation he married; and, latterly, to Dr. Richard Pocock, Archdeacon of Dublin, who, when he was advanced to the see of Ossory, did not forget the merits of Mr. Archdall, as he bestowed on him 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 had 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 his palace in Kilkenny, to Attanah; where he found, in the good sense, learning, and candour of Mr. Archdall, a relaxation rarely 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 men, wanted but the enlivening and maturing warmth of patronage, not only to be highly useful in the different departments of learning, but even to attain eminence in them. The excellent bishop, his patron, whose virtues reflected honour on his exalted station in the church, quitted this tran-

18 ARCHDALL. 

sitory life in 1765. Mr. Archdall had, at that period, been so indefatigable in his researches that his collections 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 foundations, both from the original donors, and the grants of these by the crown to the present possessors, include more than a third of all the land in the island; and yet, invaluable as these records were, for they were the fruits of forty years 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 be extended from four to seven volumes octavo. This he printed in 1789; and, of this work, the following curious anecdote is recorded: Mr. Lodge had left numerous additions to his work in MS. but written in a cypher declared to be totally inexplicable by all the short-hand writers in Dublin; these MSS. were about to be given up in despair, when Mrs. 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 

7 ARCHDEKIN. 19 

enjoy, as he exchanged this life for a better, on the 6th of August, 1791. 
As an antiquary, he was profound; as a divine, exemplary; as a husband and parent, affectionate; and as a friend, liberal and communicative. 

RICHARD ARCHDEKIN 
An eminent Jesuit, was a native of the county of Kilkenny, and became a member of that society at Mechlin, in Brabant, in 1642, at the age of twenty-three. He taught divinity and philosophy successively at Louvain and Antwerp, and, at the latter place, became rector of the students of the highest class in 1676, and afterwards professor of divinity. He died there about 1690. Peter Talbot gives him the character of “a good father, but an incautious writer;” and the Abbé de Me Berthier, in his parallel of the Doctrines of the Pagans and Jesuits, quarrels with a proposition advanced by him in his under-named Theologia Tripartita, viz. “That absolution is not to be deferred to ‘habitual sinners,’ till they are actually reformed;” to which he opposes that saying of Horace, Epist. ii. Quo semel est imbuta recens servabit odorem testa diu; and of Catullus, Epigr. lxxvii. Diffcile est longum subito deponere amorem. 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 Jesuits’ College, at Mechlin.” Louvanii, 1667, 8vo. This piece is in English and Irish. 
“Precipue Controversie Fidei ad facilem Methodum redactze; ac Resolutiones Theologica ad omnia Sacerdotis munia, presertim in Missionibus, accommodate, cum apparatu ad Doctrinam sacram. Cui accessitsumma Doctrine Christiane selectis Exemplis elucidata.” The first title is, “Theologia, Polemica, Practice, Sacra.” Louvanii, 1671, 8vo.) 

20 ARTHUR. 

“Vite et Miraculorum S. Patricii, Hiberniæ Apostoli, Epitome, cum brevi Notitiâ Hibernia.” Louvanii, 1671, 8vo. printed with the former; which he afterwards revised and enlarged, and published under the title of “‘Theologia Tripartita Universa, sive Resolutiones Polemicæ, Practicæ, Controversiarum et Questionum etiam recentissimarum, que in Scholâ et in Praxi per omnia usum precipuum habent; Missionariis, et aliis Animarum Curatoribus, et Theologiæ Studiasis, solerter accommodatæ, Editio quinta.” Antwerpiæ, 1682, 3 vols. 8vo. 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, Primate of Ireland,” which are printed in the eleventh edidion of his “Theologia Tripartita.” 
Sotvellus tells us, that he had a book ready for the press, entitled, “Theologia Apostolica.” 

JAMES ARTHUR
Professor of divinity in the university of Salamanca, was a native of Limerick, and professed himself a Dominican friar in the abbey of St. Stephen’s, at Salamanca. After teaching for some years with great applause in several convents of his order, in Spain, he received the degree of Doctor in the university of Salamanca, and was appointed 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 

ASH. 21 

of the throne of Spain. But this happy) change in the affairs of the nation proved fatal to the rising prospects of Arthur, 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 Aquinas, the former maintaining the affirmative, and the latter the negative, in which he was supported by the Dominicans, and Arthur, having, or his admission into the order, sworn to maintain his doctrine, on his refusal of the new oath, was deprived of his professorship, in 1642. He withdrew to the royal convent of St. Dominick, at Lisbon, where he died about the year 1670. He wrote “Commentaria in totum ferê S. Thome de Aquino Sumenem,” in two volumes, one of which was published in 1665, folio; and, at the time of his death, he was preparing ten volumes more of the above learned work. 

ST. GEORGE ASH
Once Vice-Chancellor of Dublin university, was a native of the county of Roscommon, and received his education in the university of Dublin, of which he was elected a fellow in 1679, and became provost of it in the room of Doctor Robert Huntington, who resigned on the 2nd September, 1692, 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 his country, from the tyrannous acts of King James Il. He came to England, and engaged himself in the service of the Lord Paget, who was King William’s embassador ´[sic passim] 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, until after the passing of the Acts of Settlement. He 

22 ASH. 

was promoted to the bishopric 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 Ist of June, 1697, he was translated, by the King’s letter, to the see of Clogher, and, 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, Archbishop 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 25th February, 1716, and died in Dublin, on the 27th February, 1717, 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 Society, in whose Transactions are several articles of his writing. He published, also, four Sermons, and two Mathematical Tracts, and several other minor productions. 
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 that see; but this he refused, it not being so profitable, although of 

more honour than the see of Clogher, to which he was translated. 

23 

JOSEPH ATKINSON 
Was a man who fully merited the epithet “worthy;” and truly sorry are we to inform our 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 administration of the Earl of Moira. He was the intimate of Moore, Curran, and the rest of the galaxy of Irish genius; and was, himself, a poet of more than ordinary ability, as the following jeu desprit, addressed to his friend Moore, on the birth of his third daughter, will evince: 
I’m sorry, dear Moore, there’s a damp to your joy, 
Nor think my old strain of mythology stupid, 
When I say, that your wife had a right to a boy,
 For Venus is nothing without a young Cupid. 
But since Fate, the boon that you wish’d for, refuses, 
By granting three girls to your happy embraces, 
She but meant, while you wander’d abroad with the Muses, 
Your wife should be circled at home by the 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 by the aged for his benevolence and numerous good qualities. 
The following beautiful lines, from the pen of his intimate, Moore, are intended to be engraved on his sepulchre: 
If ever lot was prosperously cast, 
If ever life was like the lengthen’d flow 
Of some sweet music, sweetness to the last, 
’Twas his, who, mourn’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 the calm of life, 
And stirs its languid surface into smiles, 
Pure Charity that comes not in a shower, 
Sudden and loud, oppressing what it feeds; 
But, like the dew, with gradual silent power, 
Felt in the bloom it leaves along the meads. 

24 AVERILL. 

The happy grateful spirit that improves, 
And brightens every gift by Fortune given; 
That wander where it will, with those it loves, 
Makes every place a home, and home a heaven! 
All these were his—Oh! thou who read’st this stone, 
When for thyself, thy children, to the sky, 
Thou humbly 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 his education in Trinity College, Dublin, of which his nephew, Dr. Andrews, was afterwards provost. On the 9th of January, 1771, he was consecrated Dean of Limerick, in Christ Church, Dublin, by the Archbishop of Dublin; but lived not long to enjoy his elevation, as he died on the 14th of September following, at Innismore, 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 period 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 expended the greater part of his income in benevolent actions. The primitive church was not possessed of a more worthy pillar than Bishop Averill, from whose precepts: and examples every good consequence might rationally be expected. He was fraught with charity, 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 his income would readily have procured for him, but was contented with the bare conveniences of living, and devoted the major part of his affluence 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 

AYLMER. 25 

18th of September, near the communion table, in St. Mary’s Church; and the following inscription, on a brass plate, has been fixed over them: 
“Hic jacet rectè Rev. JOHANNES AVERILL, D.D. Episcopus Limericensis, obiit 14mo. Sept. 1771, Æetatis 58. 

Cujus si in Deum pietatem, 
In regem fidem, 
In ecclesiam amorem, 
Si in equales liberalitatem, 
In omnes spectes benevolentiam, Vix etas ulla tulit parem, 
Nulla superiorem!” 

MATTHEW AYLMER
For his services to his country, created Lord Aylmer, was the second son of Sir Christopher Aylmer, of Balrath, in the county of Meath. He was, at first, employed in raising soldiers 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 made lieutenant of the Charles galley; and, passing through various promotions, was made captain of the Swallow, in October 1688. He is said to have been zealously attached to the principles which effected the Revolution; yet, when he commanded the Swallow, he took a ship belonging to the fleet of the Prince of Orange, on 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 trust; 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 forsook him, and whom it was judged necessary to remove from the throne. If every one had acted like Aylmer, his country’s chains had been riveted instead of broken, 

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 Mediterranean. In this 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 12th 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 1716 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 

AYLMER. 27 

1720, rear-admiral of Great Britain—which honours he did not long live to enjoy, as he died the same year. 
He was a most valuable 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. 

3 GEORGE AYLMER 
Was 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 11th 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, supposing him to be an officer strongly attached to him, appointed him to the command of the Reserve; and afterwards, on the 26th of October, 1688, to the Portland. But James was certainly mistaken respecting the principles 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 sovereign, by the title of William III, and that. monarch continued him in his command—a trust he highly merited. ‘He was soon after killed at the battle of Bantry Bay, after having eminently distinguished himself by his heroic intrepidity. 

28 BARNEWALL. 

CAPTAIN WILLIAM BAILLIE
Was an ingenious amateur, who acquired a distinguished reputation as an engraver. He was a native of Ireland; was born 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-stirring drum,” &c. &c. Captain Baillie devoted his life entirely 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 poetess, contemporary with Constantia Grierson and Letitia Pilkington, was born in Dublin about the year 1712. She married a tradesman, and was a highly estimable 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 eminence in his native land, he retired in his seventeenth year into Germany, where he entered the imperial service, in which he continued until his decease, in September 1739. ‘The following account of him is given in a letter 

BARO. 29 

from a general in the imperial service, to Viscount Mountgarrett: “Amongst all those brave men who have lost their lives at the battle of Crotzka, none is so much lamented by all as Mr. Anthony Barnewall, the Lord Trimleston’s youngest son: he came into Germany in General Hamilton’s regiment of cuirassiers, when his good sense, humility, good nature, and truly honest, worthy principles, gained him the love and esteem of all who had the least acquaintance with him; we have had scarce any action 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 commission, 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 the flag, tied it round his 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, ‘Come 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 he was surrounded, defending himself for a considerable time with amazing courage; at last he fell quite covered with wounds, and dying, left such an example of true courage and bravery, as cannot fail of being admired by all who shall hear of it.” 

BONAVENTURE BARO, or BARON, 
Was of that numerous class of men, who have reflected ‘great honour on Ireland, as the land of 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 adistinguished family that settled in Ireland soon after the arrival of the English. He was born at Clonmell, in the county of Tipperary. He had the happiness to have his early 

30 BARO. 

education directed by the care of his mother’s brother, Luke Wadding, a celebrated Franciscan friar, who, in the 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 education, 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 the liberal arts, divinity, and particularly controversies on the doctrines of religion, from which the mission to England, Scotland, and Ireland, might be supplied. Baron grew into great reputation, and was distinguished by the purity with which he wrote the Latin language. His talents were first brought into notice from the circumstance of a cardinal 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, induced him to settle in that city, where he lived altogether sixty years, during part of which time he lectured on divinity at St. Isidore’s. He died very old and deprived of sight, in March 16th, 1696, and was buried in the church of his own college. His works are, 1. “Orationes Panegyricæ Sacro-Profanæ decem,” Romæ, 1643, 12mo. 2. “Metra Miscellanea, sive Carminum diversorum libri duo; Epigrammatum unas; alter Silvulæ; quibus adduntur Elogia illustrium Virorum,” Romæ, 1645, 24mo, 3. “Prolusiones Philosophicæ,” Romæ, 1651, 12mo, 4. “Harpocrates quinque Ludius; seu Diatriba silenti,” Rome, 1651, 12mo. 5. “Obsidio et Expugnatio Arcis Duncannon in Hiberniâ, sub Thomâ Prestono.” 6, “Boëtius Absolutus; sive de Consolatione Theologiæ, lib. iv.” 

BARRET. 31 

Romæ, 1653, 12mo. 7. “Controversiæ et Stratagemata,” Lugduni, 1656, 8vo. 8. “Scotus Defensus,” Coloniæ, 1662, folio. 9. “Cursus Philosophicus,” Coloniæ, 1664, folio. 10. “‘ Epistolæ Familiares Paræneticæ,” &c. These are among his 11. “Opuscula varia Herbipoli,” 1666; folio, 12. “Theologia,” Paris, 1676, 6 vols. 13. “Joannes Duns Scotus, ordinis minorum, Doctor subtilis de Angelis contra adversantes defensus, nunc quoque Novitate amplificatus,” Florentiæ, 1678. 14. “Annales Ordinis S. S. Trinitatis Redemptionis Captivorum, Fundatoribus S.S. Johanne de Matha, et Felice de Valois,” in .. [sic] vols. folio. The first volume was printed at Rome, in 1686, and begins with the year 1198, in which Pope Innocent 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 benefactions, the eminent fathers of their order, their miracles and actions; as also, the number of slaves delivered by them from bondage. 

GEORGE BARRET
AN 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 staymaker, How long he remained in this situation is not known, but his 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 introduced by his protector, Mr. Burke, to the patronage of the Earl of Powerscourt, where he passed the greater part of his youth in studying and designing the sublime and beautiful scenery around Powerscourt park; and about 

32 BARRET. 

this time a premium being offered by the Dublin society, for the best landscape in oil, Mr. Barret contended for, and obtained it. 
In the year 1762, he 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 establishment of the Royal Academy, the public were, 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 landscape, 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 lighter. 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 applied, 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 colouring. This resulted from the immoderate use of glazing. The best pictures of this inestimable artist are to be found in the collections of the Dukes of Buccleuch and Portland, and the great room at Mr. Locke’s, Norbury Park, Surrey, consisting of a large room, painted with a continued scene entirely round it; a performance 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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truth of colour, and boldness of manner, in the execution, has not been equalled by any modern 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 art, 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 painter,) some of his best easel-pictures. He died at Paddington, in March 1784, 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 his life he enjoyed the place of master-painter to Chelsea Hospital; an appointment conferred upon him by his friend, Edmund Burke, during his short-lived administration. Barret left some spirited etchings of his performances, the best of which is a view in the Dargles, near Dublin. He also painted in Wali bile in which he greatly excelled: 

Rev. Dr. 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: — He was,” says his panegyrist, “a character as near perfection as the lot of humanity admits of. For upwards of half a century he continued 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 his flock, the demon was subdued by the precepts that he instilled, and the morality which he inculcated. The writhings of disease were mitigated: by the balm of his divine counsels, and poverty never applied to him in

34 BARRETT. 

vain. . Under his protecting influence, youth found an asylum from vice and wretchedness, and was trained up in the paths of virtue 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 1808, at his house 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 pourtrayed the character of departed worth, than volumes written on the 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 courage, 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 was descended from a respectable family, resident during several centuries in the adjoining county of Louth. Ata very early age he exhibited a strong predilection for the naval profession, and in compliance with his repeated solicitations, he was placed under his brave countryman Admiral Caldwell, and under his auspices he continued until his promotion to the rank 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 

BARRETT. 35 

1793, was himself promoted to the rank of rear-admiral of the white, and was stationed as junior officer in the Channel fleet, under Lord Howe, having hoisted his flag on board the Cumberland, of seventy-four guns, to which ship Lieutenant Barrett removed with him. 
In the following year Admiral Caldwell, being promoted to the rank of rear-admiral of the red, hoisted his flag on board the Impregnable, ninety-eight guns, whither Mr. Barrett again accompanied him, and on board which ship he served in the memorable battle of the 1st of June. On the appointment of Admiral Caldwell to a command in the West Indies, he removed with the admiral on board the Majestic, of seventy-four guns, and on the 13th of October, sailed to join Sir John Jervis, (now Earl St. Vincent) on the Leeward Island station, His steady attachment to his 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 in 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 contraband 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. 
In addition to this unfortunate occurrence, he was unlucky enough to become acquainted with a widow in one of the adjacent islands, who was said to possess a considerable fortune, and who, deceived by a rumour of our hero’s successes, favoured his advances: — 

“She was just at the age when beauty begins 
To give o’er her reign of delight:”’——. 

36 BARRETT.

And she was apparently rich, but not without some private 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 herself— 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 proceedings 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 circumstance, 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 Baltic, 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 Malmuc passage, an attack was made on him by nearly 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-stern, while the bulk of the ship, and comparative smallness of the foe, rendered it impossible to hit them.—In 

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this situation a dreadfal slaughter ensued on board; a shot having struck the hoisting part of the ensign halyard, the colours came slowly down. The Danes perceiving this, and not thinking it the effect of their fire, believed she had struck, and immediately abandoned their advantageous position, vying with each other for the honour of taking possession. 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 prepared, the colours re-hoisted, and “the whole” (says his biographer) “poured in with so happy a direction, that several 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 relation of the circumstance is justly due to his character, to clear it from the aspersions with which it has in consequence been loaded. The action lasted nearly eight hours; during the time, a shell having fallen on the lower deck of the Abaet the ship was saved from destruction by a boy, who, with great coolness, hove it out of the port while burning, and the concussion caused by its explosion 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. In the different attacks on the Russian flotillas at Percola and Aspro, the ship’s company severely suffered. On this station the services of the Minotaur were highly creditable to the captain and his company, and under her protection one last convoy of 1809 arrived. 
In the spring of the year 1810, the Minotaur sailed again for the Baltic, and was principally employed in escorting the different convoys from Hanno to Deershead, At the 

38 BARRETT. 

close of the season she again took charge of the homeward-bound convoy, (the Plantagenet, seventy-four, Captain Ellis, escorting the rear,) a charge destined to be her final act of service, and in which she was most lamentably to fall by shipwreck. The evening before she struck, the Plantagenet telegraphed to her, and hauled to the westward; but the master and pilots of the Minotaur, too confident of their reckoning, unfortunately stood on. At nine o’clock that night she struck on the Hakes so violently, that it was with great difficulty the midshipmen and quarter-masters gained the deck. The scene of horror that now presented itself can only be conceived by those who witnessed it. 
The ship’s company, almost naked, were sheltered from the severe cold and heavy sea by the poop, and the greatest 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 off the 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 that crowded into her, with the natural desire to avail themselves of the smallest chance of escaping from a state of inevitable destruction. 
Thus cut off from all prospect of escape, the only desire apparent in those who remained was, to clothe themselves in their best suits. The captain of marines and surgeon had themselves lashed in a cot that hung in the cabin, and two of the officers followed their example with the utmost composure. 
At length came the awful stroke—and the sea washing through the belfry, tolled the funeral knell. The captain of the main-top, who was saved on the main-mast, said, he saw Captain Barrett to the last exhorting the men to 

BARRETT. 39 

patience; he was standing on the poop, surrounded by them, when a dreadful sea destroyed every remnant of the ship, and closed his meritorious and useful life. 
Through the whole of this melancholy scene, the conduct of Captain Barrett did honour to his station. From the commencement to its fatal termination, he evinced the most heroic coolness; during which time no possibility of saving the ship had 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 ship struck, in opinion, whether she was on the Smith’s Knowl or the Hakes; Captain Barrett decided for the latter, and the ensuing dawn, by a distant view of land, confirmed it. In the course of this dreadful night, an officer, in the eagerness of exertion, occasioned some disturbance; Captain 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 singular circumstance, which we cannot forbear recording: A large tame wolf, caught at Aspro, and brought up from a cub by the ship’s company, and exceedingly docile, continued to the last an object of general solicitude. Sensible of its danger, its howls were peculiarly distressing. He had always been a particular favorite of the lieutenant, who was also greatly attached to the animal, and through the whole of their sufferings he kept close to his master. On the breaking up of the ship, both got upon the mast.—At times they were washed off, but by each other’s assistance regained it.—The lieutenant at last became exhausted by continual exertion, and benumbed with cold.—The wolf was equally fatigued, and both held occasionally by the other to retain his situation. When within a short distance of the land, Lieutenant Salsford affected by the attachment of the animal, and totally unable any longer to support himself, turned towards him from the mast; the beast clapped his fore-paws round his neck, while the 

40 BARRY. 

lieutenant clasped him. in his arms, and they sunk together. 
Such was the end of Captain Barrett, and his brave but unfortunate ship’s company. The hero who falls in the arms of victory, has a monument raised by the gratitude of his country; but he, whose destiny has been a watery grave, overcome by the irresistible power of the elements, sinks lamented at the instant, and henceforth is forgotten. To rescue from this unmerited oblivion the name and character of Captain Barrett, has been our object in the publication of these brief memoirs; and let it be remembered in the perusal of them, that although the actions they record are neither splendid or brilliant, opportunities alone were wanting to have made them so; and that if in the 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 the Parliament, convened by Sir James Perrott, in 1585; but afterwards took an active share in the rebellion of the Earl of Desmond, for which he received a pardon in the government of Lord Grey. From that time his fidelity to the crown was untainted, and he was appointed one of the council to Sir George Carew, president of Munster; in which capacity he did great service against the rebels in that province, as may be seen by his answer to Tyrone’s letter of invitation to join him, and of which a full account is given in the Pacata Hibernia. In 1601, he was’ made general of the provincials, and assisted in raising the siege of Kinsale; and, after the defeat of the Spaniards, his lordship, at the head of his forces, attacked O’Guillevan, and routed him with great loss; which, with some prudent measures employed at the same time, reduced the insurgents to complete submission. In 1613, the king, intending to hold a parliament in Dublin, and understand

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ing that there might arise some debate, whether his lordship ought to have a seat in the upper house, his elder brother, to whom it was alleged that right belonged, being still alive; his majesty, to prevent the delay such debate might occasion, declared that “in regard the Lord Barry hath been always honourably reported of, for his dutiful behaviour to our state, and hath enjoyed, without contradiction, these many years the title of honour and living of his 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 command 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 you 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 his Jegal right thereunto.” .He was according present in that parliament; and died April 10, 1617, at Barry’s court. . 

DAVID BARRY
THE first Earl of Barrymore, was the grandson of the subject of the last article, and was born in 1605.. On his grandfather’s decease, he succeeded to his estates, and in the following year a special livery of all his possessions was granted, notwithstanding his minority. In 1627, the king, to reward his fidelity and attachment to the protestant interest, created him Earl of Barrymore, He served against the Scots in 1639; and, in 1641, when the insurgents offered to make him their general, he rejected the proposal with the utmost disdain: ”I will first take an offer,” said he, “from my brother Dungarvan, to be hangman-general at Youghall.” Incensed at this, the insurgents threatened to destroy his house at Castle Lyons, on which he sent them word, that “he would defend it while one stone stood upon another;” at the same time desiring 

42 BARRY. 

them to trouble him no more with their offers, for that he was resolved to live and die a faithful subject of the English crown. 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 Edmund Fitzgerald, seneschal of Imokilty, he preserved that part of the country free from the incursions of the rebels, and thus ensured the passage between Cork and Youghall. In 1642, 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 executed on the spot. In July he took Cloghlea castle, near Kilworth; and was joined, in commission with Lord Inchiquin, to the civil government of Munster. He headed a troop of horse, and two hundred foot, which he maintained at his own charge, at the? battle of Liscarroll, on September 3, 1642; and died on the 29th 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 Ballymac-Patrick,) and christian charity; and we are particularly informed that he had sermons at Castle Lyons twice a day on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. 

JAMES BARRY, 
Afterwards created Lord Santry, was the son of a merchant of Dublin. He was educated for the bar, and by his diligence and eminent talents, raised himself to high offices of trust under government, and to a seat in the upper house of Parliament. The family was originally from Pembrokeshire, in Wales, descended from the princes of the country. Several of them passed over into Ireland, among the first adventurers, in 1169; one of these was Robert de Barry, so highly celebrated by Gerald Barry, commonly called Geraldus Cambrensis. The father of 

BARRY. 43 

James Barry, whose life we now write, acquired a considerable estate by commerce; and filled the civic honours of the city of Dublin, which he also represented in Parliament. The son, after he was called to the bar, practised for several years with reputation and success. In 1629 the king conferred upon him the office of his majesty’s serjeant-at-law for the kingdom of Ireland, with a yearly fee of twenty pounds ten shillings. Lord Wentworth, afterwards Earl of Strafford, lord deputy of Ireland, soon perceived his talents, and took him under his protection; accordingly, Aug. 5, 1634, he 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 other second baron, did or ought to receive. He soon after had the honour of knighthood conferred on him. This appointment in the exchequer he obtained through Lord Wentworth’s friendship, in opposition to another candidate who had powerful recommendation from England. Of this kindness he was ever after grateful; and, in 1640, when the Parliament of Ireland were about to send over a deputation of their body to England to impeach 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 torrent was too violent to be withstood; and we hear little more of Sir James Barry, during the civil wars, until a little before the restoration of King Charles II in 1660, when he was chairman of the convention which voted his majesty’s restoration, without any previous conditions. In obtaining this vote, his influence and talents were instrumental; and accordingly we find him experiencing the gratitude of his sovereign, by being made lord chief justice of the King’s Bench of Ireland, the 17th November of the same year. Nor was this the only honour bestowed on him; for, on the 18th of December following, the king issued a privy seal, in consideration of his eminent fidelity 

44 BARRY. 

and zeal shewn for his majesty’s service, creating him Lord Baron of Santry of the Kingdom of Ireland; and he was soon after called to the privy council. 
He died in March 1672, and was buried in Christ Church, 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, dedicated to the Earl of Strafford. 

SPRANGER BARRY.
THIS celebrated actor, who so equally divided the laurel with the immortal Garrick, was born on the 20th November, 1719, in the parish of St. Warburgh, Dublin. He was the son of an eminent silversmith of that city, prosperous 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 remarkably handsome and. finely-proportioned person, melodious and powerful voice, and pleasing address, quickly obliterated every idea relative to business, which the attendance behind the counter between two and three years, might have enabled him to acquire, and he commenced 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 evident marks that he required nothing but stage practice to place him at the head of his profession, The summer of 1744 he played in Cork, and acquired fresh fame; and here 

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. Our readers will best judge of this themselves, when they are informed, that the imperishable names of Garrick, Barry, Sheridan, Quin, Woffington, and Cibber, stood first upon the list; and that there was scarce a play that these performers did not change parts, in a praise-worthy 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, terminating in the deaths of many individuals, the saying became common, that Miss —— died of a Quin fever, but Mr. of a Barry fever. . 
In 1746, Mr. Barry arrived in England, and was engaged 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 appeared 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 gigantic powers had full play, and here he entered the lists of competition against a man, who, till now, had thrown all his 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 Othello; and remained opposing each other till the summer of 1758, when Barry, 

46 BARRY. 

in conjunction with Woodward of Covent Garden, undertook 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 respectable 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 receipts, they both found, that far from benefiting themselves by the exchange, they had altered their situations lamentably for the worse. Woodward was the first to discover the error into which they had fallen; and he immediately made the best bargain he could with Barry, to be paid his share in annuities, and, bidding adieu to Ireland, rejoined the corps from which he had deserted; and in a very laughable prologue (which is still well remembered, 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 Bath, and the daughter 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 fashionable place; so that, although his practice was extensive, it was always balanced by his expenditure. Mrs, Barry, from her childhood, amidst several promising qualifications, expressed a warm and decided preference for theatrical amusements; which, joined to a figure pleasingly feminine, great sweetness of temper, and the fashionable station she filled, made her, as she grew up, an object of general attachment, When she was arrived at the age of seventeen, she was particularly noticed by a young gentleman of large fortune, and the brother of a noble lord, who was then resident at Bath.. From seeing her. casually in the Rooms, he was struck with her manners, &c. 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 visits to the house, he formally asked permission of the father to become 

BARRY. 47 

audience. 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 
his son-in-law. So advantageous an offer was readily embraced by all parties: the parent was flattered with the idea of noble connections; and the daughter with being blessed with the object of her affections. Whilst things were in this train of maturation, an unexpected letter arrived, informing the lover of the death of an uncle in Town, which required his immediate attendance. He obeyed unwillingly (of course), after having pledged his adoration for his instant return; but the pernicious air of London (like the human touch to the sensitive leaf) soon dissipated his vows, and banished for ever from his memory all his protestations; whilst the amiable object of them, after waiting two months, in expectation of hearing from him, had nothing but sighs, tears, and painful recollections to comfort her. The chagrin she was thrown into on the ill-fated termination of this love adventure, so visibly impaired her health, that it was thought advisable, by her physicians, to go into the country. A near relation, in Yorkshire, made an offer of his house, which was accepted; and, as individuals sometimes rise from one extreme to another, she entered at first with fictitious gaiety into every species of amusement, till, by degrees, she caught the sprightliness of the place, and perfectly recovered her usual flow of spirits. Amongst the amusements of the county, the Yorkshire playhouse, which was only distant a few miles from where she resided, was not of course overlooked. There it was she first beheld Mr. Dancer, and married him shortly after at Bath; but, as her relations would not suffer her to indulge her theatrical passion in that city, she went, in the summer season, to Portsmouth. The following winter they went to York, where they solicited an engagement, and obtained it; and she became the favourite actress there until Sept. 1758, when they turned their thoughts towards Ireland. Messrs. Barry and Woodward having opened Crow street theatre, they readily got engagements on genteel salaries. Mrs. Dancer had played in York before several genteel audiences, and it was then thought by the best provincial judges, that she would one day become a great acquisition to the stage. Her first appearance in Dublin confirmed this opinion; and she every night proved she was in want of nothing but experience. There was a dancer on the Dublin stage, who, from the intimacy he had with our heroine and her husband, proposed taking an excursion into the country with the former and another lady for a few days, to which the husband consented. She had been away but the second day, when it was hinted to the husband by some malicious person, that they went off together; and he, believing it, instantly pursued them, and at a little village, about twenty miles from town, got intelligence that they were at the principal inn. Here he lost sight of his prudence, and, rushing into the house like a madman, demanded his wife; who, with the other lady and gentleman, were drinking. tea in the dining-room; and, 

48 BARRY. 

expression, that Garrick, who was then in the pit, declared her an actress gifted with superior talent; and, as a proof that he was serious in his assertion, he very soon 
alarmed at his threats, threw herself for protection on the gentleman, who imprudently locked her up with himself in a bed-chamber adjoining. The husband assailed the door, and threatened destruction to the parties; whilst the other as resolutely defended the pass. However, the door was at length broke open; but, whether from beholding the 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 newspaper 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;” the house instantly 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 in the possession of every thing [sic] 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 the delicious poison ef 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 first-rate parts; and she likewise received so much instruction from him in private rehearsals, that, in a short time, she added all his tire 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 début in Desdemona, and afterwards performed the parts of Belvidera, Rutland, and Monimia, in tragedy; and Lady Townley, Beatrice, and Rosalind, in comedy. Her first appearance, after Mr. Barry’s death, 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 accumulated 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 indifference, that she could only be said to have walked through her characters. 
Her husband, in virtue of his conjugal office, became also acting proprietor and manager, not only of the lady but of the theatre, which last did not thrive under his auspices. His civil list was constantly in arrear; his ministers, from the first-rates down to the scene-shifters, murmured for 

BARRY. 49 

after engaged Mr, Barry and herself at a very considerable salary, and by that act he shewed his wisdom and judgment, for she afterwards fulfilled his prediction to the very 

lack of salaries; his purveyors out of doors relinquished their contracts and withheld supplies. Retrenchment became the order of the day, and pervaded all departments; and, to mend matters, he struck out a system of œconomicks, in the banquetting scenes, never before heard of in the annals of mock-festivity. ‘The stage-suppers were supplied, not by the cook and ‘wine-merchant, but the property-man; the viands were composed of timber and pasteboard painted in character; and small beer and tinctured water substituted the cheering juice of the grape. The musicians deserted the orchestra; and, in short, the whole system of food and payment were rapidly hastening to a state of as “unreal mockery” as any of the fables of the tragic muse. 
In this state of things an Opera was announced; the entertainments to conclude with the farce of “High Life below Stairs.” The harmonies of the first were entirely vocal, for the fiddlers and other minstrels refused to be instrumental to the entertainment of the night. In the farce, the supper scene was supplied from the pantry of the property-man; and all the wines of Philip the butler, “from humble Port to imperial Tokay,” were drawn from the pump or the beer-cask, My Lord Duke complained to Sir Harry, that the champagne and burgundy tasted confoundedly strong of the water; and the Baronet, in turn, deplored the hardness of the wooden pheasants, and the toughness.of the pasteboard pies. In the mock minuet, between Sir Harry and Mrs. Kitty, the Baronet observed, “this was the first time he had the honour of dancing at a ball without music; but he would sing the air.” 
The gods in the upper gallery took the hint, and called out to the stage company to retreat a little, and they would supply the music. This was done, and in a minute was commenced a concert woful and detrimental, to the great terror of the audience, and the discomfiture of the manager; for such a thunder-storm of benches, bottles, chandeliers, and other missiles, covered the stage, that the remainder of the afterpiece was adjourned sine die, and the theatre closed for several weeks, 
On Mrs. Siddons’ engagement at the rival theatre, she was roused by emulation, and played Belvidera, Isabella, &c. against that lady. The critics, however, were divided in their opinions; in general the competition was thought very unequal, for Mrs, Siddons was then in the zenith, and Mrs. Crawford in the nadir of her powers. It is but justice to her memory to add, that she was universally acknowledged superior to her rival in the pathetic, and inferior to her in the terrific. Her last appearance in London was at Covent Garden theatre in 1797; but the unrelenting hand of time had destroyed those powers that fascinated so many audiences, and she quitted the stage for ever. 
Her situation in the close of life, although retired, was by no means 

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, Jaffer and Belvidera, in Venice Preserved; but 

obscure; as, since her return to London, she had resided in the house of a relative, a most amiable and respectable lady (her husband, a man eminent in the medical line), in Queen Street, Westminster, who rendered her every attention the 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 in as private a manner as possible. Her last wish was strictly 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, physician, 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 shining abilities to the most extensive 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 fail to excite the love of others. A few years of professional exertion placed her on the pinnacle of theatric fame, both as a disciple of Thalia and Melpomene; and her bright bark was floating with the tide that “leadeth on to fortune,” when an unfortunate marriage blasted all her hopes, and clouded a prospect seemingly destined remain to bright [sic] for ever. — 
It is, however, to be hoped that the judicious and candid, whilst contemplating 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. 

BARRY. 51 

none can be named 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 acknowledge, that although he had considered himself stage hardened, and as immoveable as the bench that he sat upon, that he could not help shedding tears at this memorable scene. 
Little remains now to be said of Mr. Barry, than that about the year 1774, he quitted Drury Lane for Covent Garden, and, on signing articles, precured 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, he 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 his 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 10th of January, 1777, at his 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 manner than the matter. To those who are conversant with the domestic management of actors, it will create no surprise to find that Barry did not confine himself within the limits of his income, which, from the first, was very considerable. One of his greatest pleasures consisted in giving splendid and sumptuous entertainments; and it is 

52 BARRY. 

recorded of him, that no man did the honours of the table with more gentlemanly ease and politeness. 
Mr. Pelham, who was highly delighted with his style of acting, once invited himself to sup 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 fascinating powers of polite address and persuasive insinuation. 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 importunate claimants; but no man ever possessed more eminently the power of soothing, that “horrible monster, hated of gods and men”—a pun. For though most of them were sent empty away, none departed with an aching heart; for he adorned his impunctualities with such witching politeness, and so many satisfactory reasons, and cherished hopes with such encouraging prospects, as reconciled disappointments, and silenced the most rude and determined importunacy. Numberless are the instances related of his 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 worn out all patience in the humilities of civil request and pres-

BARRY. 53 

sing remonstrance. At last, he was determined to put on a bold face, and become quite gruff and sturdy in his demands. But the moment he came into the manager’s presence, his resolution failed him, for he was assailed by such powers of bows, and smiles, and kind inquiries after his family, such pressing invitations to sit in the handsomest chair, take a glass of wine, ern a family dinner, or spend a Sunday at the manager’s villa; and all that he intended to say, in urging his claim, was so completely anticipated by apologies and feasible excuses for non-payment, that he could not find courage to pronounce the object of his 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 venture to urge a disagreeable topic, and he retired under an escort of the manager in person to the stairs’ head. Descended to the hall, under a shower of kind expressions, was ushered to the door by a brace of liveried footmen, rung up for the very purpose. i? 
On his return home from these visits, his wife, who was of the Xantippean school, failed not to lecture him severely, as a noodle and a ninny, who had not the courage to demand and insist upon his right as a man; asseverating, that “if she had the management of the affair, she would soon have the money, in spite of the manager’s palavering.” The husband acknowledged his weakness, and . said he 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; advanced 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 thundering sonata on the knocker. The footman, guessing the nature of her errand, and anticipating a storm, from the fury of her countenance, said his master was not at home. Just at this moment, however, the voice of Mr. 

54, BARRY. 

Barry was heard on the staircase, calling to one of his servants, and betrayed the official fib of the lacquey. “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, with 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; shewed her his pictures; consulted her judgment as to the likeness of his own portrait; lamented her fatigue in walking so far in so cold a morning; rang up his servants; ordered fresh 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 were forgotten, and all demands rendered quite impossible. The lady, overwhelmed with politeness, was about to depart, 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 cherrybrandy, 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 

BARRY. 55 

failure an ample excuse for the former weakness of her husband, fairly owned herself vanquished, and said that, it was impossible to offend so sweet a gentleman, by dunning him for money. 
The other instance was in the case of an eminent mercer, named Grogan, to whom the manager owed a large sum for the finery of his tragedy queens and fashionable personages of the drama. He was admitted to be not only an accomplished miser, but one of the most persevering and inexorable duns in Europe. But his importunacy with the manager having failed in Dublin, he followed him to London, with no other purpose than to elicit the amount of his debt by the combined forces of entreaty and menace. Defeated in his first approaches by the usual influence 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, the cordial suavity of his manners, his hospitable invitations to dinner, his solicitude to procure for his good friend tickets 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 consummate a master in the science of finesse. 
We intended here to have closed this article, but cannot resist the inclination of inserting the following well-written criticism, published in a pamphlet, entitled “Effusions 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 he looked it, for he had the greatest melody in his voice, and a most pleasing insinuation in his address. ‘l'o excite pity by exhibitions of grief and affliction, is one of the most arduous tasks of a tragedian: ‘ Is it 

56 BARRY. 
not monstrous (says Hamlet) that this player here, should, in a fiction, in a dream of passion, so force his soul to his. conceit, that, from his workings all his visage warmed; tears in his eyes, distraction in his aspect, a broken voice, and his whole function suiting with forms to his conceit?’ These were Barry’s excellencies, and in these he stood unrivalled. 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 his 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 his person alone he supported the character; his whole action was ofa ein and the breaks in his voice, which were uncommonly beautiful, seemed the effect of real, not counterfeited sorrow. 
“The advantage which he had from his person, the variety of his voice, and its 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 born for one particular part, Barry was for Othello. There is a 
* Of this we have eminent instances in Essex, Jaffier, and Lear; and almost every character he played. 

BARRY. 57 

length of periods, and an extravagance of passion in this part, not to be found in any other for so many successive scenes, to which Barry appeared peculiarly suitable: with equal happiness he exhibited the hero, the lover, and the distracted husband. He rose, through all the passions, to the utmost extent of critical imagination, yet still appeared to leave an unexhausted fund of expression behind. .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 he examined the 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. Whoever reads in his closet this admirable scene, will find that he cannot, except he has as warm an imagination as Shakspeare [sic] himself, perceive any but dry, incoherent, and broken sentences; a reader who has seen Barry act it, observes, that there could not have been a word added; that longer speeches would have been unnatural, nay, impossible, in Othello’s situation.” 
* The celebrated Tom Davies speaking, among other characters, of Barry’s Alexander, says, “The vanquisher of Asia never appeared to more advantage in representation, I believe, than in the person of Spranger Barry. He looked, moved, and acted the hero and the lover in a manner so superior 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 favourite queen was soft and elegant, and his love ardently passionate. In the scene with Clytus, in his rage he was terrible; and in his penitence and remorse excessive. In his last distracting agony, his delirious laugh was wild and frantic; and his dying groan affecting.” — Dramatic Miscellanies, vol. iii. 

58 
JAMES BARRY
The historical painter, was born in Cork, on October 11th, 1741. His father is reported by different biographers, to have been a victualler, a slop-seller, and a coasting 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 he 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 literature and art. To these pursuits the 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 atmospheric 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 constitutionally 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 whenever 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, in the same page, “that his habits never resembled those of ordinary boys, as he seldom mixed in their plays or amusements.” From this species of evidence, it would be presumptuous to form a conclusion. 

BARRY. 59

 Barry had a choice of religions; his father was a protestant, his mother a catholic, and her creed he adopted, as she had probably taken most pains to form his opinions; yet, although this early pre-disposition was confirmed by his own inquiries, for he had made himself by intense investigation, a profound polemic, he appears at one period to have vaccillated [sic], like most other young men, in his religious opinions, and had nearly enrolled himself among that illuminated class of philosophers who modestly deny every thing which they are unable to comprehend; Butler’s Analogy of Religion, put into his hands by Burke, rescued him from the gulph of infidelity; and it had been well if he 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 once 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 sufficiently defective, but Achilles when brandishing the sword in petticoats, though not, perhaps, evincing all the ‘masterly management, which he afterwards acquired on ‘that instrument, still shewed himself Achilles; and Barry, ‘in this his first appeal to the public, exhibited such proofs of the divinity within him, as induced Burke to take him under his immediate patronage.—His, however, was not that capricious patronage, which delights its vanity with having caught a genius, and discards it as soon as caught, to angle for others. Shortly afterwards, he brought ‘Barry with him to England, provided him introductions 

and employments, and in the ensuing year sent him to Rome. 

60 BARRY. 

Barry’s enthusiastic temper appears, as might have been expected, to have caught new ardour from the contact of congenial minds, during his short residence in London. The following extract from one of his letters during that period, to his friend Dr. Hugh, deserves to be inscribed in characters of adamant, for the edification of all students in all professions: “My hopes are grounded, in a most unwearied 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 [sic], which, while it absorbs the man in his pursuits, secures his temper against petty interruptions, the clamours of enemies, the admonitions of friends, hints, sneers, prognostics, and the whole etcetera of insignificancies, which every man finds himself beset with, who starts forth from the multitude, and marks out for himself a career of ambition beyond their sympathy 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 butterflies and reptiles to a flower garden; wealthy simpletons who came to purchase taste and pictures, and needy knaves who were still more ready to sell 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 instead of refuting his calumniators by the silent energies of his pencil, he impoliticly engaged them with their own weapons, and became an infinite sufferer, in a warfare of dispute, sarcasm, and abuse. His friends, the Burkes, indeed, seem to have been suspicious, that Barry, even without the spur of provocation, had 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 

BARRY. 61 

an invaluable admonition to all persons subjected to similar infirmities: 
As to any reports concerning your conduct and behaviour, 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, [ had 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 artists 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 advantage. However you may have succeeded in this uncommon 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 reputation. Depend upon it, that you will find the same competitions, the same jealousies, the same arts and cabals, the emulations of interest and of fame, and the same agitations and passions here, that you have experienced in Italy; and if they have the same effect 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 London; 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 described to me. That you have had just subjects of indignation always, and of anger often, do no ways doubt; who can 

62 BARRY, 

live in the world, without some trial of his patience? But believe me, my dear Barry, that the arms with which the ill dispositions of the world are to be combated, and the qualities by which it is to be reconciled to us, and we reconciled to it, are moderation, gentleness, a little indulgence to others; and a great 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 silence. By degrees you 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, discussions, 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 distresses, which will only aggravate your disposition for farther 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 considerations in this light before you. Remember we are born to serve and to adorn our country, and not to contend 

BARRY. 63 

with our fellow-citizens, and that in particular your business 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 spared himself his labour, for if such was Barry’s nature, it would always remain so—the 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 his 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 comparative importance; but by minutely dividing and subdividing, 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, be 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 Bologna, on which occasion he painted as his picture of reception, Philoctetes in the island of Lemnos. He returned to England in 1770, destitute of al/ but art, yet elate in the consciousness of his talents and acquirements, and panting for an opportunity of executing some great public work, 

64. BARRY. 

which should serve at once as his own monument, and as a vindication of his country against the aspersions of metaphysical 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 employed 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, he exhibited his picture of 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 nor frost can 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 persisted in this great work amidst poverty and privation*, and completed it in 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 protracted martyrdom, in an attempt to add the last gem to her diadem, to crown her pre-eminence in literature and 
* Subsisting the greater part of the time on bread and apples, 

BARRY. 65 

arms, with the honours of historic art, it might have been expected, that such’ an individual had some slight claim on her gratitude, and that from the plethoric superabundance of her wealth, she would have dropped a mite, which, however insignificant in itself, would have secured her enthusiastic champion from future indigence and embarrassment) Barry’s performance passed before the public vision, with as little observance as the last new pantomime, and was certainly less productive; the profits of the exhibition amounted to £500 to which 2001. 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’s professional career. Aman of more constitutional ‘placidity than Barry, might havefelt irritated, that after having expended on a public work all the fruits of his study, and the energies of his youth, his labours had left him no chance of independence, unless that independence should be purchased by a sacrifice of all the comforts and conveniences of life. We regret to add what truth extorts from us, 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 exercise of his art, seem to have sunk in a gradual declension. His picture of Pandora, which we gladly refrain from commenting on, is too explicit a proof of this last assertion; and his disputes with the Academy are as strong an evidenceof the former. He had been elected professor of painting in 1782, and almost from the period of his instalment, he had been engaged ina perpetual contest. with his fellow-academicians: these dissensions became at last so insufferable, that the council preferred against him a formal body of charges, and in a general assembly of the Academics, the offences of the professor were considered of such magnitude, that he was divested of his and expelled the Academy. 
Soon after this event, the Earl of Buchan set on foot a subscription, which amounted to about £1000. with which 

66 BARRY. 

his friends purchased an annuity for his life; but his death prevented his reaping any benefit from this design, . The manner of his death is thus related by his biographer: “On the evening of Thursday, Feb. 6, 1806; he was seized, as he entered the house where he usually dined, with the cold fit of a pleuritic fever, of so intense a degree, that all his faculties were suspended, and he unable to articulate or move. Some cordial was administered’ to him; and, on his coming a little to himself, he was taken in a coach to the door of his own house*, which, the keyhole being plugged with dirt and -pebbles, as had. been often done before by the malice, or perhaps the roguery of boys in the neighbourhood, it was impossible to open, The night being dark, and he shivering under the progress of his disease, his friends thought it advisable to drive away, without loss of time, to the hospitable mansion of Mr. Bononni. By the kindness of that good family, a bed was procured in a neighbouring house, to which he was immediately conveyed. Here he desired to be left, and locked himself up, unfortunately, for forty hours, without the least, medical assistance. What took place in the mean time, he could give but little account of, as he represented himself to be delirious, and only recollected his being tortured with a burning pain in his side, and with difficulty of breathing. In this short time was the death-blow given, which, by the prompt and timely aid of copious bleedings, might have been averted; but, with this aid, such had been the re-action of the hot fit in succeeding the rigours, and. the violence of the inflammation on the pleura, that an effusion of lymph had taken place, as appeared afterwards upon dissection. In the afternoon of Saturday, Feb. 8, he rose and crawled forth to relate his complaint to the writer of this account. He was. pale, breathless, and tottering, as he entered the room, with a dull pain in his side, a cough, short and 
* A lithographic sketch of which, from an original drawing, we present the reader with.
[page with plate]
BARRY'S HOUSE. IN CASTLE STREET OXFORD MARKET.

BARRY. 67 

incessant, and a pulse quick and feeble. Succeeding remedies proved of little avail. With exacerbations and remissions of fever, he lingered to the 22nd of February, when he expired.” His remains, after lying in state in the great room of the Society of Arts, Adelphi, were interred in St. Paul’s Cathedral, with due solemnity, and the attendance of many of his friends and admirers, among whom was not one artist, 

When we consider Barry’s style, in comparison with other works of art, it is difficult to assign it a specific place or degree. He is the proselyte of no particular master, the disciple of no particular school. That stamp of originality which marked every feature of his character, is strongly conspicuous in his works.’ His works, indeed, are but an amplification of his character, for he did not possess that protean faculty of genius which can assume the form and colour of the object it creates; that faculty by which Shakspeare [sic] identified himself with Falstaff, Hamlet, and Hotspur: Barry’s genius; in this particular, bore a nearer resemblance to that 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 never insipid, though it wants the charm of versatility.
Barry, with the mind of a philosopher, had little of the feelings of a painter. He delighted to construct magnificent systems of ethics; and he employed his pencil to illustrate those systems, sometimes with as little reference to the natural and intrinsic capabilities’ of drt, ds? the herald painter, when arranging his quarterings, gives to the harmony of colours. The picture of “Final Retribution” is a sufficient evidence of this: that composition, in whatever relates to the philosophy of it, is undoubtedly admirable. Infinite judgment, and a most prolific invention, are displayed in the selection, association, and employment of its multitudinous groups; but, surely, nothing in painting was ever so utterly unpicturesque as 



68 BARRY. 

this work in its general 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 promiscuous throng of kings, quakers, 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,” considering music a necessary accompaniment on that occasion; he has thrown a musician in his wig into the water, who, luckily for himself, being an expert swimmer, is seen coquetting among the naiads. 
Barry’s inadequacy, in the peculiar qualifications of a painter, is still more evident in his colouring and execution. His works at the Adelphi are .stained designs rather than pictures. Ina work of such extent, the artist may, perhaps, be excused for a deficiency in some qualities which are indispensable in smaller performances; but, if the absence of tone and surface be permitted on the score of oitude, 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 any 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 compunction, because, giving them their full force, he stands on an eminence which bids defiance to criticism. If Socrates had been a painter instead of a sculptor [sic], and had chosen to illustrate his doctrines by a graphical, rather 

BARRY. 69 

than a rhetorical exhibition, we may imagine that he would have selected such subjects, and have treated’ them precisely in the’ manner which Barry has done. Admitting some trifling derelictions, he was great in every part of his art which is abstractedly intellectual. The conception of the work on “Human Culture” could only have originated in a mind of gigantic order; nor is the general grandeur of the design more extraordinary than the skill with which so large a mass of components has been bent to the illustration of one particular idea. Nor is it to be inferred that he was deficient in all the essentials of manual performance: 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 Olympia,” (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, though seldom intense, he was never inappropriate. The ‘Angelic Guard in the “Final Retribution” may. be adduced 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 intelligence; and his, who leans over the brink of Tartarus, commiserating the condemned, has always struck us as an image of exquisite pathos and beauty. 
Barry’ s deficiency in executive skill is more extraordinary, 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 pictures from a previous perusal of his writings, would expect to find in them all the refinements and delicacies of surface and of colour. But this disparity between the faculties of criticism and performance is not peculiar to Barry, and it 

70 BARRY. 

proves at least the fallacy of that theory which affirms “genius” to be the operation of “(a mind of large general powers accidentally directed to a particular pursuit,”— This was the hypothesis of Sir J. Reynolds, who likewise confuted it in his practice; for while in his discourses he spoke with comparative contempt of colouring, he made it in his practice the chief object. of his ambition; and who, though he lauded the style of Michael Angelo. with rapturous enthusiasm, yet never attempted a picture in that style. The fact is, the abstract reasonings of this great artist were borne down by the strong influence of his particular temperament, What accidental influence, or system of discipline could have given Rubens delicacy, or Rembrandt grace? could have made Hogarth an epic painter, or Barry a humorous one ?—We do not. consider these observations irrelevant, because we think the hypothesis pernicious; nothing is more essential in all pursuits of taste and intellect than that the student should ascertain as speedily as possible, the exact direction of his powers—that he may not be led by a misconception of his own character to waste the energies of his application, in attempting to force a passage through regions which Apollo has barricaded against him. 

There have been so many anecdotes told of Barry, all of which have been “highly authenticated,” that we almost despair of presenting the reader with one which he has not heard before. The following, however, has never been given, to the public in all the detail its merits, deserve, and is moreover so graphically characteristic, that. we could not answer its omission to our conscience. 
He resided in a little house, in Little St. Martin’s Lane, with no companions but a venerable cat, and an old Irishwoman who served him in the capacity of factotum. He was too much of the stoic philosopher to be over solicitous in the articles of furniture, or the style of neatness; and his house-keeper was of a character little disposed to annoy 

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him, by the troublesome operations of domestic cleanliness. His time was chiefly spent in the company of a few excellent pictures, and 'a few choice books, chiefly histories, enveloped, like himself, in smoke and dust; his culinary operations were of a piece with the rest, and in his ardour for his favourite pursuits, so far was he from being a man who lived only to eat, that he scarcely ate to live. 
Sauntering one day alone in St. James’s Park, he accidentally met Burke, who accosted him in a most kind and friendly manner; expressing much pleasure on seeing him, and gently chiding him for not having called to see him for so many years. Barry, with great freedom and cheerfulness, recognised their old acquaintance and friendship in earlier years; but he said it was a maxim with him whet atty of his old friends soared into regions so far above his sphere, seldom to trouble them with his visits or obsolete recollections; he considered therefore his old friend Burke, as now too great a man for intercourse with a groundling like himself.. Mr. Burke, rather hurt at this unmerited taunt, (for no man was less proud, more kind, or assumed so little on the score of rank and talents,) pressed Barry to a friendly visit at his house: but Barry insisted off precedence in the march of hospitality, and invited the statesman to come next day, and take with him a friendly beef-steak, at his house in Little St. Martin’s Lane; to which Mr. Burke agreed, and kept his appointment. When he rapped at the door, however, Dame Ursula who opened it, at first denied that her master was at home; but'on Mr. Burke’s expressing some surprise and announcing his name, Barry overheard his voice, and ran down stairs in the usual triai of abstracted genius, utterly regardless of his personal appearance: his scanty grey hair, unconscious of the comb, sported in disordered ringlets round his head; a greasy green silk shade over his eyes, served as air auxiliary to a pair of horn-mounted spectacles, to strengthen his vision. His linen was none of the whitest, and a sort of roquelaure served the purposes of 

72 BARRY. 

a robe de chambre; but it was of the composite order, for it was neither jockey-coat, surtout, pelisse, nor tunic, but a mixture of all four; and the chronology of it might have puzzled. the Society of Antiquarians to develop. After a welcome greeting, he conducted his eloquent countryman to his dwelling-room on the first floor, which served him for kitchen, parlour, study, gallery, and painting room; but it was at that moment so befogged with smoke, as almost to suffocate its phthisicky owner, and was quite impervious to the rays of vision. Barry apologized; d———d the bungling chimney doctors; hoped the smoke would clear up, as soon as the fire burned bright; and was quite at a loss to account for “such an infernal smother,” until Mr. Burke, with some difficulty convinced him he was himself the cause: for, in order to remedy the errors of his chimney, he had removed the old stove grate from the fire-place into the centre of the room, where it was sustained by a large old dripping pan, by way of a platform, to save the carpet from ignition; and he had been occupied for half an hour with the bellows to cheer up the coals toa blaze. He was now prevailed on to assist his guest in removing the grate to its proper situation, and the windows being thrown open, the smoke soon vanished. He now proceeded to conduct his guest to see his pictures in certain apartments on the higher story, where many exquisite pieces without frames, stood edgewise on the floor, with their fronts to the walls, to guard them from injury; and by the aid of a sponge and water, their coats of dust were removed, and their beauties developed, much to the delight of the guest.—Having lectured con amore upon the history and merits of the paintings, his next object was to display to his guest the economy of his bed-room: the walls of this apartment, too, were occupied by frameless pictures, veiled in perennial dust, which was likewise sponged off, to develop their beauties, and display some first-rate gems of the art. In a sort of recess between the fire-place and the wall, stood a stump bedstead 

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without curtains, and counterpaned by a rug, bearing all the vestiges of long and arduous service, and tinted only by the accumulated soil of half a century, which no scourer’s hand had ever prophaned., “That, Sir,” said the artist, “is my bed; I use no curtains, because they are unwholesome, and [ breathe more freely, and sleep as soundly as if, reposed on down, and snored under. velvet.—But there, my friend,” continued he, pointing to a broad shelf, fixed high above the bed, and fortified on three sides by the walls of the recess, “that is my chef-d’oeuvre.— Ecod [ have outdone them at last.”—‘“Out-done whom?” 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 they. are now, you see, all safe and snug, in defiance of all the rats in the parish.” Mr. Burke could not do less than highly commend his invention, and congratulate him on its success. They now descended to the first room; Barry, whose only clock 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, “I 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 . beef-steak 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; under each arm was 2 bottle of port, procured at Slaughter’s coffee-house; and in each hand a French brick. An 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 the 

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appearance of a Map of the World. The knives and forks were veterans brigaded from different sets, for no two of them wore the same uniform, in blades, handles, or shapes. Dame Ursula cooked the potatoes in Tipperarian perfection, and by five o’clock, the hungry friends sat down like Eneas and Achates to make a hearty meal: after having dispatched the ‘ pinguem ferinam,” they whiled away the time till nine o’clock, over their two flaggons “veteris Bacchi,”— 
“And jok’d, and laugh’d, and talk’d of former times.”
Mr. Burke has often been heard to declare, that this was one of the most amusing and delightful days of his whole life. 

WILLIAM BATHE
An eminent Jesuit, was born in Dublin, in 1564. The Bathes were formerly of considerable eminence in the ~ counties of Dublin and Meath, but by extravagance, misfortunes, and injudicious intermeddling in civil dissensions, they 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 feeling a very anxious regard as to the religious principles of their son, they put him under the tuition of a zealous catholic schoolmaster, through whose early instruction his mind was imbued with such a predilection for that persuasion, as fitted 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 1596, was initiated into the society of the Jesuits. After remaining 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, 

BEARD. ‘75 

“ad formationem spirites.” He is said to have been actuated by a very strong zeal for the propagation of the catholic faith, and to have been much esteemed for the integrity of his life; but it is on record, that his natural temper was gloomy, and far from sociable. In 1614 he took a journey to Madrid to transact some business on account of his order, and died in that city, and was buried in the Jesuit’s convent. He had a high character for learning; and one of his works proves him entitled to it—”Janua Linguarum, ceu Modus maxime accommodatus quo parebit aditus ad omnes Linguas. intelligendas,” Salamanca, 1611. It was published by the care of the Irish fathers of the Jesuits at Salamanca, and became a standard book for the instruction of youth. He also wrote, in Spanish, “A Preparation for the administering of the Sacrament with greater Facility, and Fruit of Repentance, than hath been already done,” Milan, 1604. It was published by Joseph Creswell, under the name of Peter Maurique. He wrote in English and Latin, and published, but without his name, “A Methodical Institution concerning the chief Mysteries of the Christian Religion.” He published another religious work, “A Method for the performing of general Confession.” 
In his youth, at Oxford, he was much delighted with the study of music; on which he wrote a treatise. It was entitled “A Brief Introduction to the True Art of Music, wherein are set down exact and easy Rules, with arguments and their solution, for such as seek to know the reason of the truth,” London, 1584, 4to. 

THOMAS BEARD
A ingenious engraver, was a native of Ireland, and flourished about the year 1728. He worked in mezzotinto, and was principally employed in portraits. The period of his decease we are wholly unacquainted with. 

RICHARD BELING, 
A MAN endowed with both learning and courage, and celebrated for his vindication of the 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 Belingstown, 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 under the tuition of some priests 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 transplanted him to Lincoln’s inn, where he pursued his studies for several years, and returned home a “very accomplished 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 officer 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 commanded it, having a body of a hundred new raised forces, and another party coming to his relief, Beling thought it prudent to retire, and quitted the siege. 
He afterwards became a leading member in the supreme council of the confederated Roman catholics at Kilkenny; to which he was principal secretary, and was sent embassador to the pope and other Italian princes, in 1645, to beg assistance for the support of their cause. He, unluckily, brought back with him a fatal present in the person of the nuncio, John Baptist Rinencini [sic for Rinuccini], Archbishop and Prince of Fermo, who was the occasion of reviving 

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the distinctions 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 ruined 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 views than merely to obtain toleration for the free exercise of their religion, nobody was more zealous 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 Ormond, who entrusted him with many negociations both before and after the Restoration, all of which he executed with great fidelity. In 1647 he was commissioned to transact the negotiation for the junction of the Irish army with that of the Marquis 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 1666, to sign a remonstrance of their loyalty, which he had himself subscribed in 1662. These negotiations, however, were entirely fruitless, the synod abruptly breaking off 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 Romish party as had been written to clear them from being the instruments of the rebellion, and to lay the blame thereof on the severity of the English 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 a partiality to the cause he at, first embarked in, 

78 BERKELEY. 

He returned home upon the Restoration, and was repossessed of his estate by the favour and interest of the Duke of Ormond. He died in Dublin, in September 1677; and was buried in the church-yard of Malahidert, about five miles from that city, where there is a tomb erected to his memory, but without any inscription that is apparent or legible. 
During his retirement in France, he wrote, in Latin, in two books, “Vindiciarum Catholicorum Hibernæ,” under the name of Philopater Irenæus. The first of which gives a pretty accurate history of Irish affairs, from 1641 to 1649; and the second is a confutation of an epistle written by Paul King, a Franciscan friar and a nunciotist, in defence of the Irish rebellion. This book of Mr. Beling’s being answered by John Ponce, a Franciscan friar also, and a most implacable enemy to the protestants of Ireland, in a tract entitled, “Belingi Vindicæ eversæ,” our author made ‘a reply, which he published under the title of “Annotationes in Johannes Poncii Librum; cui titulus, Vindiciæ Eversæ: accesserunt Belingi Vindiciæ,” Parisiis, 1654, 8vo. He wrote also a vindication of himself against Nicholas French, titular bishop of Ferns, under the title of “Innocentiæ suæ impetitæ per Reverendissimum Fernensem vindicæ,’ Paris, 1652, 12mo. dedicated to the clergy of Ireland; and is reported to have written a poem, called “‘The Eighth Day,’’ which has escaped our searches. When a student, however, at Lincoln’s inn, he wrote and added a sixth book to Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia, which was printed with that romance, London, 1633, folio, with only the initials of his name. 

GEORGE BERKELEY 
Is a name of which Ireland may justly boast, both for the brilliancy of his genius and his extensive stores of knowledge; but still more for the warmth of his benevolent 

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heart, which he manifested by a life honourable to himself and highly useful to mankind... He was born March I2, 1684, at Kilcrin, near Thomastown, in the county of Kilkenny. . His father, William Berkeley of ‘Thomastown, was the son of a loyal, adherent of Charles I who, after the Restoration, in 1660, went over to Ireland, and was made collector at Belfast. 
George Berkeley received the elements of his education at the school of Kilkenny, under Dr. Hinton, where: he gave early proofs of his industry and capacity, and made such extraordinary progress, that, at the age of fifteen, he was found qualified to be admitted pensioner of Trinity College, Dublin, under Dr. Hall. In that learned society he acquired distinction; and, after a most rigorous examination, which he went through with great credit, he was elected to a fellowship of the college, June the 9th, 1707, when \a few days older than twenty years, 
He did not now relax into indolence, and sit down quietly to enjoy learned) ease, but proved to the world his intention to increase his own knowledge, and to communicate the fruits of his industry to others. His first publication was “Arithmetica absque Algebra aut Euclide, demonstrata.” It proves the solid foundation of mathematical knowledge which he had laid in his mind. It appears from the preface to have been written before he was twenty years of age, though it did not appear till 1707. It is dedicated to Mr. Palliser, son to the Archbishop of Cashel; and is followed by a mathematical miscellany, containing observations and theorems, inscribed to his pupil, Mr. Samuel Molineux, whose father was the friend and correspondent of Mr. Locke. This work is so far curious, as it shews the early vigour of his mind, his genius for the mathematics, and his attachment to those more subtle and metaphysical studies, in which he was peculiarly qualified to shine. 
In 1709 came forth the ‘ Theory of Vision;” a work which does infinite credit to his sagacity, being, as Dr. 

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Reid observes, the first attempt that ever was made to distinguish the immediate-and natural objects of sight, from the conclusions which we have been accustomed from our infancy to draw from them. . He draws a boundary between the senses of sight and touch; and he shews clearly, that the connection which we form in our minds between sight and touch, is the effect of habit; insomuch that a person born blind, and suddenly made to see, would be unable at first to foretel [sic] how the objects of sight would affect the sense of touch, or, indeed, whether: 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 mind. These, and other interesting positions, have since been completely! verified’ by actual experiment, as may be seen more particularly in the case of a young man born 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 considered 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 appeared “The Principles of Human Knowledge;” and in 1713, “Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous.” But of these works we cannot speak with the same degree 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 act of the Deity, according to certain rules termed laws of 

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nature; which the Supreme Being has been pleased to observe, and from which, in the ordinary course of nature, he does not deviate. 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 more imperfectly understood than at present; and that many theories and doctrines then offered to the world, though less singular, were as little capable of defence. Whatever sceptical inferences may have been drawn from these works, the good intentions of the writer are undoubted; 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 he is led to combat an opinion entertained by. Locke, 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 tendency, have endeavoured to sap the foundations of natural and revealed religion. Mr. Hume says, that “these works form the best lessons of scepticism, which are to be found. either among the ancient or modern 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 moment of his life to be true, and that to be true, which no -man since the foundation of the world was ever capable of believing for a single moment. Berkeley’s doctrine attacks the most incontestible [sic] dictates of common sense;

82 BERKELEY. 

and pretends to demonstrate, that the clearest principles of human conviction, and those which have determined the judgment of men in all ages, and by which the judgment of all reasonable men must be determined, are certainly fallacious. It may, after all, be safely asserted, that Berkeley’s errors were such that none but a man of the most vigorous and independent mind could have fallen into; that they demonstrate strong original powers; that they have done no harm in society;—but, on the contrary, by the discussion which they excited, tended to enlarge the boundaries of human knowledge. 
In 1712, by the perusal of Locke’s two treatises on Government, Berkeley’s attention was directed to the doctrine of passive obedience; and conceiving the opposite opinion was at the time too prevalent, he preached three sermons on the subject in the college chapel, which he committed to the press. This at a future period was likely to be injurious to his interests, as it caused him to be considered a Jacobite, and hostile to the principles which drove out the Stuarts, and brought the house of Hanover to the throne. His friend and pupil, Mr. 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 him known to Queen Caroline. In 1718 he published a defence of his System of Immaterialism. His amiable manners, his highly respectable private character, and the acuteness of his talents, established his reputation, and made his company sought even by those who opposed his metaphysical speculations. Two men of the most opposite political sentiments introduced 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 Guardian, and, it is said, had from him a guinea and a dinner for each. Dean Swift recommended him to Lord Berkeley; and procured for him the appoint-

BERKELEY. 83 

ment of chaplain and secretary to the famous Earl of. Peterborough, who was sent out embassador to the king of Sicily, and the Italian States in 1713, On his return to England in August 1714, he found his former friends, the ministers of Queen Anne, now in disgrace; and men of opposite principles forming the administration of George I. All hopes of preferment were therefore at an end; and he therefore willingly embraced the offer of accompanying Mr. Ashe, the son of the Bishop of Clogher, in a tour through Europe. Soon after his return to England in 1714 he had a dangerous fever, which gave occasion to Dr. Arbuthnot to indulge little pleasantry on Berkeley’s system: “Poor philosopher Berkeley,” says he to his friend Swift, “has now the idea of health, which was very hard to produce in him; for he had an idea of a strange fever on him so strong, that is was very hard to destroy it by introducing a contrary one.” 
Mr. Berkeley spent altogether four years on his tour, and besides performing 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 speculations, the celebrated Père Malebranche. He found this ingenious father in the cell of his own convent, cooking in a pipkin a medicine for a disorder with which he was troubled—an inflammation on the lungs. The conversation turning on our author’s system, of which the French philosopher had received an account from a translation which had lately been published, a discussion took place between them, of which the result was fatal to Père 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 natural 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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Tarantula to Dr. Freind, such as was there usually told to strangers, but which more accurate investigation has since discovered to contain much of imposition and exaggeration. 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 22nd October, 1771, 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 up a curious tract, “De Motu,” which was inserted in the Memoirs of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, 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 metropolis. By Mr. Pope he was introduced to Lord Burlington, 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-lieutenant, and asserts that his degree of D. D. was given by his college, in 1717, when he was in Italy. In 1722 he had a very unexpected increase of fortune from Mrs, Vanhomrigh, the celebrated Vanessa, to whom he had been introduced by Swift. This lady, who had so long entertained a romantic passion for the Dean, and had intended 

BERKELEY. . 85 

making him her heir, finding herself slighted, altered her intentions, and left about £8000 between her two executors, Dr. Berkeley and Mr. Marshal. In his life, in the Biographia Britannica, it. is said, 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 his office as executor, Dr. Berkeley destroyed as much of Vanessa’s correspondence 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 “Cadenus and Vanessa”—which Dr. Delany asserts proved fatal to Swift’s other lady, Stella. 
In 1717 he had been elected senior fellow of his college, and on 18th May, 1724, he resigned this preferment, being appointed to the deanery of Derry, with about 11004. a year. 
He was now about to enter on a new scene of life, in which sabe ll aig) 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 means which appeared to the Dean, was to erect a college for the education of young men, who might afterwards be employed as missionaries. He accordingly published in 1725 “A Proposal 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 offered to resign all his own church preferments, and 

86 BERKELEY. 

devote the remainder of his life in directing the studies of the college, for only £100 a year. Such was the influence of his great example, that three junior fellows of Trinity College, Dublin, concurred with him in his design, and proposed to exchange for a settlement in the Atlantic Ocean, of only £40 a year, all their flattering, prospects in their own country. The proposal was enforced on the attention of the ministry, not merely by considerations of natural honour, and a regard to the interests of humanity and Christianity, but also by the immediate advantage, likely — to accrue from it to the government. Having by diligent research estimated the value of the lands 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, and thus to raise a sum of money, part of which was to be applied to the establishment of his college. The scheme was communicated by the Abbé Gualtieri, or Altieri, to his Majesty King George l., and by the royal command laid before the House of Commons, by the minister Sir Robert Walpole. A charter was granted by the King, for erecting the college, to-be called “St, Paul’s College, in Bermuda,” and which was to consist 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 Dr. George Berkeley, and the three first fellows named in the charter, those already noticed of Trinity College, Dublin, 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 effect the above purpose, out of the land of St. Christopher’s already mentioned, as his 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 fair prospect of completing his undertaking, Dr. Berkeley made preparations 

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for leaving the-kingdom, and married on the Ist of August, 1728, the daughter of John Foster, Esq., speaker of the Irish House of Commons; and he actually sailed in September following for Rhode Island, taking with him his wife, a single lady, and two gentlemen of fortune, and having a large sum of money, his own property, and a collection of books for the use of his intended college. Upon his arrival at Newport, in Rhode Island, he. contracted for the purchase of lands on the adjacent continent, entertaining a full expectation, that the money, according to the original grant, would be immediately paid. His hopes were, however, disappointed; the minister had never heartily embraced the project, and probably deemed it chimerical and unlikely to be attended with any benefit. The money was accordingly turned into another channel. After a variety of excuses, Dr. Berkeley was at last informed, in a letter from Bishop Gibson, who at that time presided over the diocese of London, in which the whole of the West Indies is included, that having waited on Sir Robert Walpole, and made application for the money, he had received the following honest answer, “If you put this question to me as a minister,” says Sir Robert, “I must and can assure you, that the money shall most undoubtedly be paid, as soon as suits with public convenience; but if you ask me asa friend, whether Dean Berkeley should continue in America, expecting the payment of £10,000, I advise him by all means to return to Europe, and to give up his present expectations.” The scheme was therefore necessarily abandoned. During the time of his residence in America, when he was not employed as an itinerant preacher, which was impossible in winter, be preached every Sunday at Newport, where was the nearest episcopal church, and to that church he gave an organ. When the season, and his health permitted, he visited the neighbouring continent, and penetrated far into the inte~ rior, having his mind constantly bent ‘on forwarding the benevolent views with which he had crossed the Atlantic. 

' $8 BERKELEY. 

The missionaries 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 accordingly held. He was uniformly anxious to impress upon the minds 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 a hundred acres, which lay round his house, and his house itself, as a benefaction to Y ale 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 £500. 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 ia 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 philosophical conversations which were carried on in presence of 

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Queen Caroline, according to a practice which had commenced when she was Princess of Wales, some of the principal persons were Doctors Clarke, Hoadley, Berkeley, and Sherlock. The debates which occurred were chiefly conducted by Clarke and Berkeley, and Hoadley adhered to the former,and Sherlock to the latter.. Hoadley affected to consider the immaterial system of Berkeley, and his scheme of founding a college at Bermuda as satisfactory proofs of his being a visionary. 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 have been produced by a man of a disordered understanding. The Queen honoured Berkeley by admitting him to frequent visits, and took much pleasure in his conversation on subjects relating to America. That discerning princess had such a value for him, that on a vacancy in the deanery of Derry, he was nominated to it; but as Lord Burlington had neglected to give proper notice in time to the Duke of Dorset, then lord-lieutenant, and to obtain his concurrence, 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 see of Cloyne, in March 1733, he was promoted by letters patent to that bishopric, and consecrated at St. Paul’s Church, in Dublin, by Theophilus Archbishop 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 would purchase nothing for 

90 BERKELEY. 

his family but what was bought within his diocese. When Plutarch was asked why he resided in his native town, so obscure and small, he replied, “I stay lest it should grow less.” Bishop Berkeley was actuated by a similar feeling, which we could wish were strongly impressed on the breasts of every Irishman of rank and fortune, and that they would reside in their own country, encourage it by the expenditure of their fortune, improve the moral and peaceable habits of the people by their example, “be a terror to them that do evil, and a praise to them that do well.”; 
The active mind of Bishop Berkeley even in this retirement could not slumber: he continued his studies with unceasing application: and a circumstance which occurred amongst his friends engaged him in a controversy with the mathematicians. Mr. Addison had some years before given him an account of the behaviour of their common friend, Dr. Garth, in his last illness, which was equally distressing to both these advocates of revealed religion; for when Mr. Addison went to see the doctor, and began to talk to him seriously of another world; “Surely, Addison,” replied he, “I have good reason not to believe these trifles, sinee my friend Dr. Halley, who has dealt so much in demonstration, has assured me, that the doctrines of Christianity are incomprehensible, and the religion itself an imposture.” Bishop Berkeley therefore addressed to him, as to an infidel mathematician, a discourse entitled the “Analyst,” in order to shew that mysteries in faith were unjustly objected to by mathematicians, since they themselves admitted greater mysteries in their science, and even falsehoods, of which the bishop attempted to shew that the doctrine of fluxions furnished an example. Various papers were written on the subject of fluxions, and the chief answer to the bishop was by Philalethes Cantabrigiensis, generally supposed to have been Dr. Jurin, who published a treatise, called “Geometry no Friend to Infidelity,” 1734. In reply to this appeared 

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“A Defence of Freethinking in Mathematics,” 1735; which drew from Philalethes a second work, “The Minute Mathematician; or, the Freethinker no Just Thinker,” Here this controversy ended, in which it is clear the bishop had the worst. Mathematical science is, however, highly obliged to him, as the dispute called into action the talents of Maclaurin, whose treatise on fluxions explains the doctrine with more fulness and precision, than ever it was before, or perhaps ever might have been, if no attack had been made upon it. 
The interest which he felt in all that concerned the happiness of mankind, kept his mind in his retirement engaged on the events occurring in the world, and induced him to publish, in 1735, the “Querist,” and in 1736, “A Discourse addressed to Magistrates,” occasioned by the enormous licentiousness of the times; as also various smaller tracts. 
In 1745, during the time of the rebellion in Scotland, he published a letter to the Roman catholics of his diocese; and, in 1749, another to the clergy of that persuasion in Ireland; which letter, from its candour, moderation, and good sense, had so striking an effect on the gentlemen to whom it was addressed, that they returned him their public thanks for the same in terms of the highest admiration of his christian charity, discernment, and patriotism. 
The disinterested spirit of Bishop Berkeley would not allow him to look forward to any farther promotion in the church, after he was appointed to the diocese of Cloyne. He declared to Mrs. Berkeley, that his intention was never to change his see, because, as he afterwards confessed to the Archbishop of Tuam, and the late Earl of Shannon, he had very early in life got the world under his feet, and he hoped to trample on it to his last moments. He was much pressed by his friends to think of a translation; but he thought such a step wrong in a bishop: and it afforded 

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an opportunity to the world (which has not much faith 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 expiration 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 Carolin 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 him as having any remarkable 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 1752 to wish to retire to Oxford to superintend the education of his son: and having a clear sense of the impropriety of a bishop’s non-residence in his diocese, he endeavoured to obtain an exchange of his see for some canonry or headship at Oxford. Failing in this, he actually wrote over to the secretary of state, for permission to resign his bishopric, worth at that time about 1400/. per annum.——So extraordinary a petition exciting the curiosity of his majesty, he made inquiry, who the man was who had presented it, and finding it was his old acquiantance, Dr. 

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Berkeley, declared he should die a bishop in spite of himself; but gave him full liberty to reside where he pleased. His last act before he left Cloyne, was to settle £200 from’ the revenues of his lands, to be distributed, yearly, until his return, amongst the poor housekeepers of Cloyne, Youghal, and Aghadda. In July 1752, he removed with his lady and family to Oxford, where he lived highly respected: and where he printed in the same year, all his smaller pieces in octavo. 
He had been, ever since 1744, troubled with a nervous cholic, brought on by his sedentary course of life; but from which he experienced considerable relief from drinking tar-water. He wished, therefore, to impart to mankind a knowledge of ‘this simple and useful medicine; and published a curious book, entitled “Siris; a Chain of Philosophical Reflections and Inquiries concerning the Virtues of Tar-water.” This work, he has been heard to declare, cost him more pains than any other in which he had ever been engaged. A second edition appeared in 1747, with additions and emendations; and in 1752, came out “Farther Thoughts 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 beneficial effects may arise from the use of a medicine which its physical i, ei scien have little effect in producing. 
The bishop did not Tong survive his removal to Oxford, for,on the Sunday evening of January 14, 1753, as he was in the midst of his family, listening to the lesson on the burial service, which his lady was reading to him, he 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 his daughter, 

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presenting to him a cup of tea, first perceived his insensibility. Whoever leads a life like him, need be the less anxious at how short a warning it is taken from him! 
His remains were interred at Christ Church, Oxford; where there is an elegant marble monument over him, with a Latin inscription by Dr. Markham, then head master of Westminster school, and late Archbishop of York. In this inscription he is said to have been born in 1679, and his age to be 73; whereas his brother, who furnished the particulars of his life, states the year of his birth to have been 1684, and his age consequently 69. 
As to his person, he was handsome, with a countenance full of meaning and benevolence; he was possessed of great muscular strength, and of a robust constitution until he impaired it by his sedentary and too close application to his studies. 
The almost enthusiastic energy of his character, which is displayed in his public works, was also apparent in his — private life and in his conversation: but notwithstanding this animation and spirit, his manners were invariably mild, unaffected, and engaging. At Cloyne he generally rose between three and four in the morning, and summoned his family to a lesson on the bass viol, from an Italian master whom he liberally kept for their instruction, though he himself did not possess an ear for music.—He spent the rest of the morning, and often a great part of the day in study. Few persons were ever held in higher estimation by those who knew his worth, than Bishop Berkeley. After Bishop Atterbury had been introduced to him, he lifted up his hands in astonishment, and said, “So much understanding, so much knowledge, so much innocence, and such humility, 1 did not think had been the portion of any but angels, till 1 saw this gentleman.” This testimony may well excuse the well-known line of his friend Mr. Pope, in which he ascribes 
“To Berkeley every virtue under Heaven.”

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The opinion of the world, as to the literary and philosophical character of Bishop Berkeley, has long since been settled. In metaphysical speculation, in early youth his ardour led him to embrace, and to form theories more fanciful than just. Although he still retained his partiality for the study of Plato, yet towards the latter part of his life, he is said to have doubted the solidity and utility of his metaphysical studies, and turned his attention towards those of politics and medicines, as being of more practical advantage to mankind. Various learned men, and in particular Bishop Hoadley, have censured his works as corrupting the natural simplicity of Christianity, by blending it with the subtilty and obscurity of metaphysics: and Mr. Hume asserts, that “his writings are the best lessons of scepticism which are to be found, either among the ancient or modern philosophers—Bayle himself not excepted;” and that “all his arguments against sceptics as well as against atheists and freethinkers, though otherwise intended, are in reality merely sceptical, appears from this, that they admit of no answer, and produce no conviction.” This remark is not correct; and the utility of his “Minute Philosopher,” and several other works, is certainly very great. That his knowledge extended to the minutest objects, and included the arts and business of common life, is testified by Dr. Blackwell in his “Court of Augustus.” The industry of his research, and the acuteness of his observations, extended not only to the mechanic arts, but to the various departments of trade, agriculture, and navigations and that he possessed poetical talents in an eminent degree, if he had thought: proper to cultivate them, appears from his animated letters, which are published in the works of Mr. Pope, and also from several compositions in verse, particularly some beautiful stanzas, written on the prospect of realizing his benevolent scheme, relating to his ‘college in Bermuda. The classical romance, entitled “The Adventures of Signor Gaudentio di Lucca,” has been 

96 BERMINGHAM. 

frequently attributed to him, but certainly was not his composition. 
“The Works of George Berkeley, D.D. late Bishop of Cloyne, to which is added an account of his life, and several letters,” &c. were published in 2 vols. 4to..in 1784. 

HON 842. JOHN BERMINGHAM 

Was the second son of Francis, Lord of Athunry, in the kingdom of Ireland, being the twenty-first who held the rank of baron in descent from Pierce de Bermingham, summoned to parliament by the title already stated, in the reign of King Henry Il. His mother was: the Lady Mary Nugent, eldest daughter of Thomas, Earl of Westmeath. The year of his birth we have not been informed of, nor are we in possession of any particulars of the early part of his life. 
Being bred to the sea service, he was appointed lieutenant 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 he 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, according 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 explained by the following extract of a letter from Newcastle, dated. May the 18th, 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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Head, with a French privateer of eighteen nine-pounders, six six-pounders, and about two hundred men. ~The Falcon fought her several glasses; but night coming on, ‘they both lay to, andin the morning renewed the engagement; when the privateer, having lost a great many men, thought proper to sheer off. The Fox man-of-war, of twenty guns, soon after falling in with the Falcon, immediately gave chace to the privateer, who had not, got out of sight; so that we expect shortly to have a good account of her. 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 his well-deserved advancement. 

HARRIETT CATHERINE BERNARD, 
COUNTESS OF BANNON: 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 children, of whom eight survive her. This lady’s excellent qualities threw a lustre on her high descent, and a peculiar brilliancy on her surrounding relatives, In the immediate neighbourhood of Castle Bernard, she will long be gratefully and affectionately remembered for her munificent 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 establishments in Dublin, as well as the Cork Institution and Farming VOL, , H 

98 BERNARD. 

Society in the neighbourhood. Her improvements. at Castle Bernard, conducted under her immediate direction, are sufficient, evidences of the correctness of her judgment; and, in the formation of her valuable library, she has left a monument of her. taste, and a declaration of the pure principles of her heart. By her sole bounty she supported for many years a school for twenty-four young women, now united to the general school of Bandon, of which she was the patroness and foundress, and which is conducted on such an ample scale of liberality, as would do credit to any place in the United Kingdom. She “delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless and him that had 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 in her 48th year.— Her death appears to have been accelerated by the susceptible 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 Cork. 
““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 virtues 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 they have been lamented in their loss! 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 

BICKERSTAFE, 99

Bernard, lieutenant of the 9th Light Dragoons, who died in Portugal, ‘the service ‘of his’ country, the 24th of January, 1813, in the 24th year of his age; and the Honourable Henry; Boyle Bernard, cornet of the King’s Dragoon Guards, who gloriously ‘fell in the battle of Waterloo, on the sth,, of June, 1815, in gis 18th year of his age. 

ISAAC BICKERSTAFF
A Dramatist of much ingenuity, was born in Dublin about the year, 1732. His father held the situation of groom porter in the Castle, which place was abolished during the lord-lieutenancy of Lord Chesterfield in 1745. The services of the father, however, were rewarded with a pension, and the son Isaac was made a page. After the departure of the Earl of Chesterfield, Bickerstaff gota commission in a marine corps, which it is said he left in disgrace, Notwithstanding, he continued to write for the stage for several years, when in all probability the charge was renewed by his enemies, which drove hiin at last into banishment. 2 
He was known to be living in obscurity in London in 1811, but he is supposed to bane died towards the close of the year 1816.
Bickerstaff’s “Love in a Village,” and “Lionel and Clarissa,” aided by the delightful music of Doctor Arne, still keep possession of the stage; but the most popular of his productions is his alteration from the Nonjuror of Cibber, an imitation of the Tartuffe of Molière, entitled “The Hypocrite.” This comedy, from the admirable situations it affords for the actors, independent of the sarcastic humour that runs throughout it against the pretenders to religion, has been, and ever will be, a distinguished favourite with the public. As a song writer, Bickerstaff cannot be allowed to rank 

100 BIRMINGHAM. 

very high; for although possessed of the art of jingling his 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! had I been by fate decreed 
Some humble cottage swain, 
In fair Rosetta’s sight to feed 
My sheep upon the plain, 
What bliss had I been born to taste, 
Which now I ne’er must know; 
Ye envious powers! why have ye plac’d 
My fair one’s lot so low ?” 
 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 

Far be it, however, from us to insinuate, that even Bickerstaff 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 effusions of Burns or Moore; we have just as much affectation, stupidity, and sickly sensibility as heretofore. ) 

Sir JOHN BIRMINGHAM, 

Arrerwarps 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 devastations, 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 appointed 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 

BLACK. 101 

for many years disturbed the peace and happiness of the kingdom. After the death of Edward Bruce, he again encountered the Scots, and defeated their army with a very great slaughter. In reward of his services, he was created Earl of Louth, and had lands bestowed upon him to support his rank. He afterwards suppressed various banditti, 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 Thetnay, in King’s County. He was afterwards murdered by a combination of families, who hated 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, the 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 family which had 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 Aberdeenshire, 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 liberality, that his acquaintance and conversation were eagerly 

* Walsh, however (in his History of Dublin) states, “that it is generally believed that Belfast was the place of his birth.” 

102 BLACK. 

sought after by many of the first literary characters of the country! in which he had fixed his, abode. Among others who esteemed: him ‘as a) friend and companion, may; be mentioned the-celebrated, president . Montesquieu, whose strong partiality for the laws and constitution! of England, was owing, in a great measure, to the information derived from, this gentleman, and who, on Mr. Black’s retiring from: trade to his native country, expressed the most: friendly sentiments of regret for the loss he was about to sustain, in several letters which are still preserved by that gentleman’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 rudiments of the usual branches of education. His father, however, desirous that he should be educated as a British subject, sent 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, the .studies’ connected with that science being most congenial to his ‘disposition. In consequence of this determination, he was sent at the age of eighteen to the university of Glasgow, where he arrived and commenced his studies at the time that Dr. Cullen had just entered on his career as professor of chemistry. The gigantic powers of mind which that great man possessed; quickly became sensible of the low state’ in which chemical knowledge then existed; he felt conscious of his strength, and entered the lists with an 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 this great man, was gradually rising to the rank of a liberal science; young Black attached himself with so much attention to the professor, that Cullen, who took great 

BLACK 108 

pleasure in noticing and assisting the efforts of his pupils, took him: under his particular direction. Mr. Black was unwilling to:trust' to the reports of chemical. processes, until he had himself repeated them; the accuracy and dexterity: with which he performed his experiments, together with the:attachment of ‘the professor, caused him to be regarded as Cullen’s assistant, in..which capacity he frequently acted, and his experiments at this early age were often referred to as good authority. His notebooks, which are: still preserved, point out the comprehensive plan of study which he had laid down for himself, and are particularly curious, as they exhibit the germs of his ideas, and their after-progress, until they ripened into those great discoveries’ which produced ‘so complete a revolution in chemical science. 
The action of lithontriptics on the human frame, at that time excited great attention, and the professors in the university of Edinburgh 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 Edinburgh, in 1750, the differences of opinion were at their height. The natural bent of his inclination engaged him in the controversy, and, during ‘his residence at the house of his cousin-german, Mr. Russell, professor of natural philosophy in the university, he entered into a course of experiments to investigate the cause of causticity, a property in which all the lithontriptics then in-use, agreed. He at first adopted the doctrine of the older chemists, that lime, during the burning of it, absorbs something from the fire, which, entering into combination with it, renders caustic what was before mild and innocuous. This he attempted to separate, and collect from the caustic lime, but without effect; and, in the prosecution of his experiments, he found reason to conceive that causticity depended on the removal, rather than the addition, of some other substance. This suspicion took possession of 

104 BLACK. 

his mind in 1752, and he continued his observations till 1754, when he published “Dissertatio Inauguralis de Humore Acido a Cibis Orto et Magnesia Alba.” 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 sic published by that Society.
The experiments in this paper are althple; but ingeniously devised; it is concise, yet perspicuous; and the deductions are so just, that it is considered a most excellent model of composition, reasoning, and arrangement. The facts it develops are now so well known to everyone as forming one of the first elements of chemistry, that it would be unnecessary to detail them, were it not to exemplify the history of the science as far as it relates tothe 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 modification of lime. The experiments of Dr. Black, proved, that it was distinct from that substance; and he then proceeded to investigate its affinity to acids.
In endeavouring to convert magnesia into quicklime by fire, he discovered that. a subtile [sic] 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 unburnt. 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 calcareous earth; and that lime 

BLACK. 105

became mild calcareous earth by re-uniting with this air. This theory was demonstrated by plain and incontrovertible experiments; and it is not to be wondered at, that it should immediately supplant the then received hypothesis, that the causticity of lime depended on a union of igneous particles.
Lime being discovered 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 rendered caustic by lime was given. 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 atmosphere, or an exceedingly subtle powder. This newly discovered substance he named fixed air; improperly, indeed, as he was himself aware, but the name was naturally enough applied to a substance 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 weight 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 affinities of this air to alkalies and earths. 
Important as these facts 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 different species, ina gaseous form, of which they had no idea before; the opinion of Hales and others being, that aeriform matter was of the same species as 

106 BLACK. 

that of the atmosphere, under various modifications. These experiments, at the same time opened to the view of observers, 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 affinities, 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 above paper of Dr. Black. 
This: celebrated professor in his lectures, afterwards shewed that the inflammable air was totally different from fixed air; but never having published those experiments, he has never enjoyed the honour of the discovery of this elastic inflammable fluid. 
The first offspring of these discoveries was Brownrigg’s experiments on the air of Pyrmont water, in which was shewn the existence of the fixed air discovered by Dr. Black. These were succeeded by the accurate and profound experiments of Mr. Cavendish on fixed and inflammable air, with an excellent description of the apparatus for chemical experiments on aeriform bodies. Dr. Priestley next extended the knowledge of pneumatic chemistry; and the investigation into this branch of chemical philosophy, soon after began in Sweden, Germany, and France. In this latter country, ‘the knowledge resulting from the investigation of the properties of aeriform bodies, suggested the new system of chemistry, so sublimely ‘simple in its theory; and the fountain from ‘which it sprung was the 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 1755, Dr. Cullen was removed from the chemical chair at Glasgow, toa professorship at Edinburgh; and the abilities which Black had displayed in the assistance he had afforded to that great man, together with his recent and splendid discoveries, pointed him out 

BLACK 107 

as the fittest person to succeed his former teacher. He. was therefore appointed professor of chemistry and’ anatomy, in the university of Glasgow.:early \in the ensuing year; but not conceiving himself sufficiently qualified to undertake, public lectures on anatomy, he obtained the concurrence of the university to exchange that task with the professor of medicine. . His time was now devoted to delivering lectures on chemistry: and the institutes of medicine, and. his reputation as a professor increased every year. The situation he held, and the ‘anxious attention he paid to his patients, have been adduced to account for the little progress he made in that) fine career of experimental investigation; which he had so auspiciously commenced, This inactivity must be much regretted as highly injurious to the science, and it displayed an indolence or carelessness. of reputation, not easily. to be justified, 
He still, however, continued to pursue his chemical researches, though they were directed to a different object. He engaged. in a series of experiments relative to heat, which had, occupied, his attention at intervals, from the earliest period of his philosophical investigations. On this subject he prosecuted his inquiries with so much success, as to lay down some 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 in a paper drawn up with his usual accuracy and) perspicuity, and which was. read, April 23, 1762, before a literary society, consisting’ of the members of the university, and such gentlemen as manifested a taste for philosophy and literature, and’ who met every Friday in the Faculty Room of the college. His discoveries in this department of science were’ perhaps the most important he ever made, and may be ‘reckoned among the most valuable of ‘the eighteenth century. a 
The experiments by which ’his opinions on this subject were established, were at once simple and decisive; but to enter into the subject at sufficient length to ensure per-

108 BLACK. 

spicuity would be improper. The axioms, however, which he established, were usually expressed by him in the following terms: 
1. When a solid body is converted into a fluid, there enters into it, and unites with it, a quantity 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 temperature by the continued and copious application of heat, its particles suddenly attract to themselves a great quantity 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 converted into ice, gives out 140° of heat; and ice, in becoming water, absorbs 140° of heat. Thus again, water in being converted to steam, absorbs about 1000° of heat, without becoming sensibly hotter than 212°. The thermometer had long been considered by chemical philosophers as the only method of discovering the degree of heat 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 (latet) in the water and steam, and he briefly expressed this fact by applying to the heat, in this case, the term of latent heat. It may, however, be necessary to observe, that though 

BLACK. 109 

Dr. Black’s theory has been adopted by every modern chemist, yet great differences have existed with respect to the quantity of heat thus absorbed. This doctrine was immediately applied by its author to the explanation of a vast number of natural 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 understanding 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; yet the criminal negligence of the author in not favouring the world with a printed account of his discovery, 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 concerning Heat, 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 taken some pains to prevent the opinions and discoveries of our celebrated chemist 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 become his editor. Averse to trouble and exertion, he after much difficulty consented to furnish De Luc with the necessary materials to prepare the work for the public eye. 

110 BLACK. 

At length, in 1788, De Luc’ published his “Idées sur‘la Metèorologie;” and it was indeed with astonishment that Black and his friends perceived the doctrine claimed by De Luc as his own discovery; coolly informing the reader that he had great satisfaction in understanding that Dr. Black coincided with his opinions! 
In 1766, his friend Dr. Cullen being appointed professor of medicine in the university of Edinburgh, a vacancy occurred in the chemical chair, and Dr. Black was again appointed his successor with general approbation. The great concourse of pupils which the deservedly high reputation of that celebrated school of medicine ‘brought to his lectures, was highly gratifying to a mind like Dr. Black’s, which delighted in attracting attention to his favourite science. As the demands on his talents increased, they became more conspicuous and more ‘extensively useful. Impressed with a strong sense of the importance of his duties as a professor, he directed his whole attention to his lectures, and his object was to make them so plain, that they should be comprehended by the meanest and most illiterate capacity among his hearers. Never did any man succeed more’ completely. His pupils were not only ‘instructed, but delighted, and many became his pupils merely to be amused. This pleasing style, and the numerous and well-conducted experiments by which he illustrated every point of the science, contributed greatly to extend the knowledge of chemistry, and it became in Edinburgh a necessary and fashionable part of the accomplishment of a gentleman. 
This attention, however, to simplifying his lectures had an effect, which perhaps was, on the whole, 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. The slightest. cold, the most trifling approach to repletion, occasioned feverishness, affected his breath, and, if not speedily removed by relaxation of thought and gentle 

BLACK, 111 

exercise, brought on a spitting of blood. His natural tendency to these complaints 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, he was so particular in his notions of the manner in which a work intended for publication ‘should be executed, that the pains he took in arranging the plan never failed 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 account of his observations and discoveries. As an author, he is known only by his “Dissertatio Inauguralis,” which was the work of duty; his Experiments on Magnesia,” &c. mentioned above, which was necessary to explain and establish what he had asserted in his inaugural dissertation. His “Observations on the more ready Freezing 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 Royal Society at Edinburgh, and published by their Council. These are the only works which have appeared front the pen of Dr, Black. His lectures were published after his death, in 1803, by his friend and pupil, Professor Robison, in two volumes, quarto. 
His only apprehension, we are informed, was that of a long-continued sick bed; less, perhaps, from any selfish feeling, than from the consideration of the trouble and distress which it would occasion to his friends; and never was so generous a wish more completely gratified. On the 26th of November, 1799, in the 71st year of his 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 

112 BLACK. 

cup in his hands, and feeling the vital powers quickly ebbing, he set it down on his knees, which were joined together, and kept it steady with his hand. In this attitude he 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 he 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 went back and shut 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 his life, mild, gentle, and easy. A man, whose singular suavity of manners 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 interesting, 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 the 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 af 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 

BRIEN BOIRUMHE. 118

had its time appointed for it, and he had always Jeisure in store. oe 
As a chemist, he deservedly ranks high in the estimation of his brethren; his discoveries were wonderful in themselves, and immense in the applications which have resulted 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 extended 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 misrepresented 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 the 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 scientific characters. 

BRIEN BOIRUMHE. 
The earlier pages of the history of Ireland teem with so many glorious instances of distinguished heroes, combining 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 and grace of his age.”
A short sketch of whose life will no doubt. be acceptable 

114 BRIEN BOIRUMHE. 

to the reader, though far beyond the power of the writer to do justice to his merits. 
Brien Boirumhe, the son of Cineidi, is computed to have been born in the year 926; and passed through the usual course of education appropriated to the sons of the Irish kings, in which war, literature, and politics, formed the necessary basis on which to ground the instruction of the future ruler. A course of studies so peculiarly adapted to his disposition, took firm possession of the soul of our hero, and his future life was devoted to the practice of those excellent lessons he had imbibed in his youth. 
His first essay in arms was in the capacity of general to his brother Mahon, King of North Munster, when he entirely routed a numerous and almost overwhelming body of the Danes, who had dared to make an incursion, with the design of plundering the country under his protection. Soon after this victory, on an insurrection among his subjects, Mahon was deprived of his throne, and basely murdered; but his brother Brien took such effectual measures that he succeeded to the throne, in which his first object was to be revenged on the murderers of his brother. This he speedily and completely effected, though his enemies had called the Danes to their assistance. Victory again sat om his sword, and peace crowned his exertions. He became, in 968, King of both Munsters, which he cleared from the invaders, and re-established in their former privileges. He gave new vigour to the laws, by summoning a feis or parliament at Cashell; and he caused the ruined churches and monasteries to be rebuilt, and the bishops and the clergy to be restored to their livings. His annual revenue, as King of Munster, was immense, and is calculated to give a magnificent idea of the riches of Ireland in his time; a particular account of it is contained in the Leabhar na Cleart, or Book of Rights, and which O’Halloran has translated. 
Domnald, monarch of Ireland, tired of the pageantry of royalty, quitted the throne in 980, and Malachie was chosen his successor. The jealousy with which he re-

BRIEN BOIRUMHE. 115 

garded the glory ‘of Brien was hereditary, and the knowledge of this probably induced O’Felan to form a powerful confederacy against the King of Munster. Near Waterford the armies engaged; Brien, with’ his usual fortune, obtained’ a complete victory; and the attempts of his enemies to ruin his power, terminated in the reduction of the whole of southern Ireland under his power, apis which he became King of Leath Mogha. 
So signal’a success irritated the envious Malachie; and, in/982, he invaded Munster, and carried off considerable plunder. The next 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; he prepared to wreak a signal vengeance on the head of? Malachie, who, terrified at the prospect of so speedy and severe a retribution, offered him peace, in which he engaged to make restitution for all the damages he had committed. 
Continually in arms against the plundering and oppressive Danes, he reduced them from a state of independency to absolute subjection; and so benefited the country at large, that a convention of the states of Connaught and Munster, contrasting his power, magaanimity [sic] and justice with the passive temporising spirit of Malachie, agreed to request Brien to assume the monarchy, and engaged to support him to their utmost. Deputies were dispatched to Malachie to inform him of their intention, and to desire him to ‘resign a throne he was so ill qualified to fill. He received the proposal with surprise and indignation, declaring, as he lived, he 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 Malachie representing that he had not had time to collect his troops, and requesting a month for that purpose, Brien granted him his wish, on the condition, that, if, at the ‘end of that time, he were not able to defend the crown, he should resign it into his hands. All the exertions, 

116 BRLEN BOLRUMHE. 

however, of Malachie were useless; the Princes of Leath Cuin were either too much attached to Brien, or dreaded his power, and refused to answer the summons of Malachie. On the day appointed, he appeared before Brien, and surrendered to him the insignia of royalty; but Brien with generous humanity, allowed him twelve months longer to take measures to preserve them. 
So liberal-a behaviour excited no corresponding sentiments 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 humiliating 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 can 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 improvement. A fresh irruption of the Danes called the venerable hero again into action, and the sanguinary achievement of Clontarf closed, at the age of eighty-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 Clontarf:
“At the head of 30,000 men highly appointed, Brien marched into Leinster, about the beginning of April 1014, 

BRIEN BOIRUMHE. 117 

in three divisions,.and was joined by Malachie, King of Meath. He encamped, as he had done the year before, near Kilmainham., And, after both 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 23rd of April, being Good-Friday, the Danes appeared 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‘ chief, 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 blood, 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 in one hand, 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, 

118 BRIEN BOIRUMHE. 

their successors, waited impatiently to renew the same scenes of devastation and cruelty, and by way of anticipation (says he) they have fixed on the very day on which Christ was crucified to destroy the country of his greatest votaries: But that God, whose cause you are to fight, will be present with you, and deliver his enemies into your hands.” So saying, he proceeded towards the centre to lead his troops to action, but the chiefs of the army with one voice requested he would retire from the field of battle on account of his extreme age, and leave to the gallant Morrogh the chief command. At eight in the morning the signal for slaughter was given. The Dalgais with the whole right wing marched to attack, sword in hand, the Danes commanded by Brodar and Airgiodal: but an uncommon act of cowardice or treachery had like to have destroyed the whole army, for, at this very critical moment, Malachie with his Meathians retired suddenly from the field of battle, leaving the rest of this body exposed to a far greater number of enemies. But Morrogh, with great presence of mind, called out to ‘his brave Dalgais, “that this was the time to distinguish themselves, as they alone 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 command of the King of Connaught, hasten to engage the Danes of Leinster and their insular levies, whilst the troops of South Munster attack the apostate Maol-Mordha and his degenerate Lagenians. Never was greater animosity, perseverance, and intrepidity displayed in any battle than this, as every thing depended on open force and courage. The situation of the ground admitted of no ambuscade, and none were used. They fought man to man, and breast to breast, and the victors in one rank fell victims in the next! The officers and generals performed prodigies of valour. Morrogh, his son Turlogh, his brethren and kinsmen, flew from place to place, and every where left the sanguinary traces of their 

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courage and their fortitude. The fortitude displayed by Morrogh determined Carolus and Conmaol, two Danes of distinction, to attack in conjunction this prince, and both fell by his sword, It was observed, that he, with other chiefs, had retired from the battle more than once, and after each return seemed to be possessed of redoubled force, It was to slake their thirst and cool their hands, swelled with the use of the sword and battle-axe, in an adjoining brook, over which a small guard was placed, and this the Danes soon destroyed. On rejoining his troops the last time, Sitric-Mac-Lodair, with a body of Danes, was making a fresh attack on the Dalgais—him Morrogh singled out, and with a blow of his battle-axe divided his body in two through his armour! The other Irish commanders in like manner distinguished them; selves, though their exploits are not so particularly narrated; and it ‘would seem, from the number of prime nobility that fell on ‘both sides, that, besides its being a general battle, the chiefs on each side every where singled out each other to single combat. The courage of the Irish was not to be subdued. Till near four o’clock in the afternoon did the issue of the day remain ‘doubtful, and then it was that they made so general an attack upon the enemy that its force was not to be resisted. Destitute of leaders, and of course of order, the Danes gave way on every side. Morrogh, at this time, through the uncommon use and exertion of the sword -arm, had both his hand and arm so swelled and pained as to be unable to lift them up. In this condition he was assailed sword in hand, by Henry, a Danish prince; but Morrogh, closing in upon him, seized him with the left hand, shook him out of his coat of .mail, and prostrating him, pierced his body with his sword by. forcing its pummel on his breast, and pressing the weight of his body on it. In this dying situation of Henry, he nevertheless seized the dagger which hung .by Morrogh’s side, and with it -gave him, at the same instant, a mortal wound. The Dane 

120 BRIEN BOIRUMHE. 

expired on the spot, but Morrogh lived till next morning, employing the intermediate time in acts of piety and devotion; in making, says my manuscript, a general confession, receiving the eucharist, and dying as a hero and a christian should die. 
The confusion became general through the Danish army, and they fled on every side. Corcoran, one of the monarch’s aides-de-camp, seeing the standard of Morrogh struck, for this notified the fall of the chief, and in the, general déroute unable to distinguish friend from foe, concluded 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 fly. 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 his 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 companion 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 he had received in the battle burst forth afresh—he refused every assistance, and expired 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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five different rencontres, 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: 
 I.
Remember the glories of Brien the brave, 
Though the days of the hero are o’er,
Though lost to Mononia*,and cold in the grave, 
He returns to Kinkora† no more!
That star of the field, which so often has pour’d: 
Its beam on the battle is set,
But enough of its glory remains on each sword, 
To light us to victory yet.
II
Mononia! when nature embellish’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 shall never resign, 
Go, tell our invaders the Danes, 
That ’tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine, 
Than to sleep but a moment in chains.
III
Forget not our wounded companions‡ who stood
In the day of distress by our side, 
While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood, 
‘They stirr’d not, but conquer’d and died: 
‘The sun, that now blesses or arms with his light, 
Saw them fall upon Ossory’s plain: 
Oh! let him not blush, when he leaves us to night, 
To find that they fell there in vain! 
* Munster. †The palace of Brien.
‡This alludes to an interesting circumstance related of the Dalgais, the favourite troops of Brien, when they were interrupted in their return from the battle of Clontarf, by Fitzpatrick Prince of Ossory. The wounded men entreated that they might be allowed to fight with the rest: ‘“Let {122} stakes,” (they said) “be stuck in the ground; and suffer each of us, tied to and supported by one of these stakes, to be placed in his rank by the side of a sound man.” —”Between seven and eight hundred wounded men,” (adds O’Halloran) “‘ pale, emaciated, and supported in this manner, appeared mixed with the foremost of the troops!—Never was such another sight exhibited.” —History of Ireland, book xii. ch. 1. 

122 

DR. EDMUND BORLASE. 
OF this skilful physician and celebrated historian so few particulars are known, that we should have been inclined to have passed him over in silence, had not his interesting account of the great rebellion in 1641, claimed our peculiar 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 him to prefer finishing his studies at that place, which was then the best school to acquire a knowledge of that art. He remained there for some years, and took his degree 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 he continued till his death in 1682, practising his profession with great reputation and success. The following may be enumerated among his productions; “Latham Spaw in Lancashire; with some remarkable Cases and Cures effected by it,” London, 1670, dedicated to Charles, Earl of Derby. “The Reduction of Ireland to the Crown of England; with the Governors, since the Conquest by king Henry II. 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 Castlehaven’s Memoirs of his Engagement and Carriage in the War of Ireland. By which the Government of that time, and the Justice of the Crown since, are vindicated from 

BORLASE. 123

Aspersions cast upon both.” And lastly, his most extensive and celebrated work, “The History of the execrable Irish Rebellion, traced from many preceding Acts to the Grand Eruption, October 23, 1641; and thence pursued to the Act of Settlement 1672.” Wood informs us that much of this is taken from “The Irish Rebellion; or, the History of the beginning and first Progress of the General Rebellion raised within the Kingdom of Ireland, October, 23, 1641,” which was written by Sir John Temple, master of the rolls, and one of ‘his majesty’s privy council in Ireland, and father of the’celebrated Sir William Temple. 
The following observations on this work are by Dr. Nalson, who says, “That besides the ‘nearness of his relation to one of the lords justices, and/his being avowedly a favourer of the faction, men, and actions of those times, he is an author of such strange inconsistency, that. his book is rather a paradox than a history. And it must needs be'so; for I know not by what accident the copy of a MS. written by the Earl of Clarendon, happening to fall into his hands, he has very unartfully blended ‘it with his own rough and unpolished heap of matter; so that his book looks like a curious embroidery, sowed with coarse thread upon a piece of sackcloth. And truly had he 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 render him suspected not to be overstocked with ‘honesty and justice, so necessary to the reputation of an unblemished 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 language which the parent never intended. And yet this is the exact case of Dr. Borlase’s history, in which he has taken great pains to expunge some, and alter many passages, which he thought were too poignant against his favourites, or spoke too much in vindication of his late “majesty and his ministers!” 

124 

HUGH, or HUGH MACAULEY BOYD
 AN ingenious author, but 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 Macauley, Esq. of the county of Antrim, and was born 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 he 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, “that he united the meekness of the lamb with the spirit of the lion.” In 1765, he took his degree of master of. arts, and his grandfather wished him to enter the church; this however, he declined, as the natural gallantry of his nature induced him to prefer the army; but his father being desirous that he should go into the infantry, and he giving an undutiful preference to the more elevated service of the cavalry, some delay in consequence 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, he 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 excessive splendour 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 sensibility, prompted him to acts of bene-

BOYD. 125 

volence which his scanty. and precarious income was ill suited to supply; and before he 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 entirely 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 creditors, 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 interesting, 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 generosity 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 a full stop; he was therefore recommended to his countryman, 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 undergoing several vicissitudes, he went for a few months to Calcutta, where “his talents, wit, and humour, together with the superlative sprightliness of his convivial qualities will be long remembered with pleasure.” In February 1794, he advertised proposals for publishing, by subscrip-

126 BOYD. 

tion, his “Embassy to Candy;” but owing to a want of taste wholly unaccountable, the subscription did ‘not increase quite so rapidly as might have been expected. He, however, unappalled by this adverse circumstance, undertook the work with zeal, and confidently hoped to finish it within six months, but this hope (unfortunately for posterity) was never realised, on account of his decease, which occurred on the 19th of October, 1794, and he was interred in the new burying ground at Madras. 
“Of his person,” we are told, “he was tall and graceful, formed with the most exact symmetry, his mien noble and elevated, his countenance animated and commanding, and his deportment exceedingly elegant.” 
Such is the life of Boyd, as written by Laurence Campbell, and we would have made a few more extracts from it, had we not arrived at a chapter on his “Intellectual Elements” (as his biographer is pleased to term them), we therefore thought it high time to close the volume, with the belief, that if any element resided in his intellect, it was—air. 
That Boyd was an author possessed of some ingenuity, we are not disposed to deny, but that he was any thing more would be somewhat difficult to prove; and we beg the reader (if he imagines we have treated Boyd with undue levity) to remember, that this sketch is taken from a life written by one of his most intimate friends, every line of which renders both conspicuously ridiculous. 
Boyd’s Political Tracts were reprinted in one octavo volume, with a view to establish an assertion, that Almon is supposed to have been the first to have made, purporting Mr. Boyd to be the author of Junius.— We certainly have heard the letters of Junius attributed to several individuals, whose incomparable vacuity of head seemed their only claim to the distinction; but never before Boyd was mentioned did we see a feeble imitator mistaken for an original writer. 

BOYD. 127 

Should, however, any of our readers not be convinced that Mr. Boyd was not the author of Junius, we take the liberty of subjoining the following letter, which appeared in the Gentleman’s Magazine of March 1814. 
“Sir John Macpherson, Bart. of Brompton Grove, is both a sound scholar and a gentleman of sterling abilities; and Sir John once was a governor-general of India. His exemplary courtesy, liberal hospitality, and communicative disposition, are well known. From his own lips I have myself been positively and distinctly informed, that (not Mr. Walter Boyd, of dubious fame, but) Hugh Boyd, Esq. declared, entre. deux vins, at Sir John’s table, when the worthy host had temporari'ly retired, that “Sir John Macpherson little knew he was entertaining in his mansion a political writer, whose sentiments were once the occasion of a chivalrous appeal from Sir J. to arms,” immediately adding, “I AM THE AUTHOR OF JUNIUS.” 

Amidst all the circles of our jocular acquaintance, we have heard but one witticism attributed to Mr. Boyd, which (as it is our wish to be as amusing as possible) we take the liberty of inserting: Mr. Boyd was once dining with a large party of natives of “The Land of Saints,” all admirers of good dinners, good jokes, and good wines, when, after having partaken in some slight degree of the former, they proceeded to take in a more wholesale proportion of the latter, which having done, one of the company, by way of being more amusing than the rest, took up a decanter, and (sans ceremonie) flung it at the head of the person that sat facing him; Boyd, however, seeing the missile thrown, dexterously stretched forth his hand, and caught it, exclaiming at the same time, “Really, gentlemen, if you send the bottle about in this way, there will not be one of us able to stand presently.” 

128 

RICHARD BOYLE
CELEBRATED for, his attachment to the unfortunate family of the Stuarts in all their distresses, was born at the college of Youghall, on the 20th of October, 1612. He was 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 courtship 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, he 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 Jeffery, that he did not by any means think the time long, having been diverting himself with his pretty little daughter, (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 to 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 apparently 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 bas since shone with so much lustre both in the field and in the senate. 
His earlier years were passed in the acquirement of useful 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 receiving the honour of knighthood from the hands of Lord 

BOYLE. 129 

Falkland, then deputy-general of Ireland, when he was under twelve years of age, he being then Viscount Dungarvan, in consequence of the death of his elder brother Roger, at nine years of age. Having attained his twentieth year, he was sent abroad to finish his education, under the care of his able and intelligent ‘tutor, with an allowance of £1000 per annum. He passed two years in his travels, having visited Flanders, France, and Italy, and returned home furnished with every agreeable accomplishment. On his return, the unfortunate Lord Wentworth, afterwards Earl of Strafford, struck with his graceful appearance and manly qualifications, proposed to his father to form an alliance between his son and the Lady Elizabeth, daughter and sole heiress of Henry, Lord Clifford, afterwards. 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 his fortune and extended his interest: it introduced him to the familiar acquaintance of many of the first persons at court, and consequently paved the way fora favourable reception, which was nota little increased by his graces and accomplishments! He was favourably received by Charles I; 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, he raised a troop of horse which he intended to head, under the command of the Earl of Northumberland; an action which gained for him the friendship of many persons of the greatest consideration; and when the rebellion broke out in Ireland, he was one. 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; he used them as if they had claimed a nearer relation to him than that created by service; as if they had

130 BOY LE. 

formed a portion of his family. His exhortations to them were manly and kind, and he often reminded them, that they should consider themselves not as soldiers of fortune, but as men who had taken up arms solely for the protection of their country from her internal foes. At the head of these troops he was present at several sieges and battles, particularly in the celebrated action at Liscarrol; and such was the effect produced by his kindness to his men, that they always distinguished themselves in every service in which they were engaged. 
He always differed strongly from she who thought that the most successful way of carrying on the war was by irritating the catholics; and the cessation was in a great measure owing to the excellent advice which he gave to the Marquis of Ormond. This affair being completed in September 1643, he exerted himself in endeavouring to procure for the king that assistance which he expected as the consequence of his agreement to this measure; and so great was his zeal on this occasion, that, at his own request, his regiment was part of the Irish brigade sent to the relief of his majesty, and was commanded by his lordship in person. On his arrival at Oxford, he was received by Charles I with every mark of favour and attention; and even his enemies admired the firmness of his attachment to the fortunes of his sovereign. He was now raised to the dignity of Baron Clifford, of Lanesborough, in consideration, as the patent expresses it, of his timely and effectual services. He constantly attended his majesty with his troops, as long as any part of the kingdom afforded reception to him; but was at length forced to compound for his estates, with the then existing government for the sum of £1631. Having, however, crossed the seas before the composition was completed, the House of Commons taking advantage of his absence, appointed a committee to consider of the debt owing by the Earl of Cork (a title to which he had now succeeded) which involved him in considerable difficulties. He was 

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however, fortunately enabled to satisfy their demands, and in order to secure his property, returned to Ireland, where he lived in a retired manner upon his own estates, which were considerably encumbered in consequence of his late exertions in favour of Charles I and the heavy composition he had just been compelled to pay. 
During his residence in Ireland, which continued until the restoration of Charles II his generous disposition ‘exerted itself in relieving those who had suffered from their attachment to the late king. He also endeavoured to support his establishment in the same state and magnificence in which his father had lived, in consequence of which he was at length so much embarrassed, that his countess was reduced to the necessity of applying to the Protector for relief, which was liberally granted through the intercession of his brother, the Lord Broghill. No sooner had he received this assistance, than he applied a considerable portion of it to relieve the wants of Charles If. then in exile; a circumstance, which certainly, however it may evince his loyalty, does not tend to set his gratitude in the most favourable light. He also constantly laboured, as much as his property and interest would allow, 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 letters patent, Earl of Burlington, or Bridlington, in the county of York. He also possessed the office of lord high treasurer of Ireland, which had been rendered, through the interest of his father when in that situation, hereditary in the family, 
On June 3, 1665, his second son, Richard, then a volunteer on board the fleet commanded by his royal highness the Duke of York, was killed by a cannon-shot in the engagement off Solebay. This melancholy accident afforded his majesty another opportunity of testifying his affection ‘for his lordship, by appointing him, in 1666, lord lieutenant of the West Riding of Yorkshire, and of the city 

132 BOYLE.

York. In 1679, he was also appointed custos rotulorum for that country. 
These honours he held till after the death of Charles II; but when his successor intimated to him his wish that he should sacrifice the duties of his office to the private inclinations of his majesty, and consequently assist in subverting the constitution of his country, he decidedly declared against so infamous a project, and magnanimously resigned: his trusts, rather than consent to betray them. In consequence 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 himself 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 his decease, which took place on January 15, 1697-8, in the eighty-sixth year of his age. 
The character of this great man may be summed up in a few words. In all the polite and elegant accomplishments 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 connected with the welfare of his country, could not induce him to consent to an 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 downfall of the family he revered; 

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and with a truly noble spirit preferred the benefit of his country at large to the gratification of his private inclinations... In private life, his virtues were as great as his talents in public; he was beloved by his servants and his tenants, and. regretted by all. His generosity was unbounded; and although he might. be conceived, from the difficulties 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 relieving 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.: T'sis celebrated individual, who united the greatest abilities in the field, with the most consummate judgment in the cabinet, and whose reputation as an author was equalled 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 IIreland, and at the age of fifteen was sent to Trinity College, where he remained for some time in the pursuit of his studies. He afterwards travelled under the care of Mr. Marcombes, 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 inclination for poetry, which he afterwards cultivated with ‘great success. On his return to England, the reputation of his 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 his friendship and assistance were earnestly courted by the Earl of Strafford and the Earl of Northumberland. In 

1$4 BOYLE. 

the expedition which was undertaken by this latter nobles man into the north of England against the Scotch, he entrusted the Lord Broghill with the command of his own troop, in which situation this young nobleman acquitted himself to his commander’s satisfaction; and soon after . his return, he married the Lady Margaret Howard, sister to the Earl of Suffolk. 
He now returned to Ireland with his lady, and arrived on the very day on which the great rebellion commenced. This circumstance, however, was not then known in Munster, so that he proceeded in safety to 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 Barrymore, at Castle Lyons, the Earl of Cork was called out to a messenger, who informed him, that an open rebellion had commenced, and that the isurgents were masters of the country, and were committing the most horrid barbarities on the English settlers. The Earl of Cork returned to the company without shewing any emotion, and did not communicate this dreadful intelligence till after din+ ner, when the Earl of Muskerry, who was then ona Visit at Castle Lyons, treated the story as a mere fabrication, and employed the whole force of his wit in turning it into ridicule. The company, however, were alarmed, and soon separated, returning to their homes, where the first intelligence they received was, that the Lord Muskerry had appeared at the head of some thousands of rebels. 
The insurrection now became universal, and was attended with circumstances of such atrocious barbarity and unexampled cruelty, that the English were thrown into the greatest alarm. The Earl of Cork, without delay, summoned his tenants, and formed a body of five hundred men, giving the command of a troop of horse to Lord Broghill. ‘They were soon ordered to join the lord-president St. Leiger, and Lord Broghill, on many occasions, evinced the greatest courage and conduct; the success of the contest remaining for a long time doubtful, owing to . 

BOY LE. 135 the overpowering numbers of the insurgents. When the cessation of arms was concluded in 1643, Lord Broghill went over to England, where he represented the treachery of the rebels in so strong a light to his majesty, as to convince him that they did not mean to adhere to the terms which had been agreed on. In consequence of this, his majesty dispatched to Lord Inchiquin, then president of Munster, a commission to prosecute the rebels, and Lord Broghill employed all his interest to assist him in the exercise of his ardaous task. Soon after this, the government of Ireland was ceded by the king to the commissioners appointed by the parliament; but so much did Lord Broghill abhor the cruelties and excesses which had been committed by the rebels, that he still retained his commission, and did not relax from his strenuous endeavours to re-establish the tranquillity of his country. 
On the execution of Charles I Lord Broghill was so much shocked at that melancholy occurrence, that he immediately quitted the service of the parliament, and abandoning his estates in Ireland, embarked for England. He now retired to his seat at Marston, in Somersetshire, where he lived privately till 1649; but this inactive life soon wearied him. He regarded it as a dereliction of his duty to the unfortunate family of the Stuarts, and unfit for a man of his quality. The principles of loyalty in which he had been educated stimulated him to active exertions, and he resolved upon passing over to the continent, to procure a commission from Charles Il. to levy forces for his service in Ireland. For this purpose, he raised a considerable sum of money upon his estates, and applied to the Earl of Warwick, who was then in great credit with the prevailing party, requesting him to procure for him a free pass to go over to the Spa, the waters of that place having been recommended to him as essential to the recovery and preservation of his health. He also communicated his design to several persons whom he conceived equally devoted with himself to the cause of their exiled 

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sovereign; and the plan being approved of by them, he went to London to wait for his passport. 
The committee of state, who were then at the head of the government, were ever on the watch to discover the designs of the partisans of Charles, and spared no money to procure intelligence. The Lord Broghill’s: abilities were too well known to them, his principles they had: every reason to suspect were unfavourable to their government,aud his every motion was watched: His secret intentions were soon discovered, and the committee resolved upon making him an example to deter the friends of the king from exerting themselves in his behalf. From this resolution they. were, however, diverted by Cromwell, who had just been appointed to the command of the forces in-Ireland, and who was 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 extremities.. Having obtained this permission, he immediately dispatched a gentleman to Lord Broghill, requesting’ to know at what hour it would be convenient for the general to wait upon him. 
Lord Broghill was much surprised at this message, never having had the slightest acquaintance with Cromwell, 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 his intentions had been discovered, and he remained at home 

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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 and applying to Charles 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 diverted 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 general 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 excellency’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 occasion. Cromwell candidly told him, that though till that time he had been a stranger to his person, he was none to his merits and character; that he had heard how gallantly his lordship had already behaved in the Irish wars; 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 offer him 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 his sword, except against the Irish rebels. 
So generous and. unexpected an offer much surprised Lord Broghill. He saw himself perfectly at liberty by. all the laws of honour to draw his sword against the rebels, whose atrocious barbarities were equally detested by 

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both parties. He, however, requested some time to cons sider of the proposal, but Cromwell briskly told him that he must form his resolution immediately, as he was return~ ing to the committee, who were still sitting, and who, if his lordship rejected their offer, had determined to send him to the Tower. Broghill seeing that his liberty and life were in the most imminent danger, and charmed with the frankness of Cromwell’s behaviour, gave him his word and honour that he would faithfully serve him against the Irish rebels. On this Cromwell renewed his promises, and ordered him to repair to Bristol, whither forces should be immediately sent him, with a sufficient number of transports for their conveyance to Ireland, to which country he himself would soon follow. 
These promises were fulfilled in every respect. Lord Broghill hastened to Bristol, where he was soon joined by the necessary troops, and on his arrival in Ireland, so much had he gained the affections of those who had formerly served under him, by his courage and affability, that he soon saw himself at the head of a troop of horse composed entirely of gentlemen, together with a regiment of fifteen hundred men. With this little army, he hovered up and down the country, keeping the insurgents at check, — until Cromwell landed at Wexford, whom he immediately joined with his 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 trusting himself entirely to Cromwell’s honour, nor had he ever reason to repent his confidence. 
After the reduction of Drogheda, Cromwell laid siege to Clonmel], when he received intelligence that the rebels had collected a large body of troops, which were still increasing in numbers,with the intention of compelling him to raise the siege. He immediately dispatched Lord Broghill at the head of a strong detachment, with orders to fall upon the party which had assembled. This service was performed with the greatest celerity, and he fell upon the 

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enemy, whose numbers amounted to about five thousand men, before they were aware of his approach, and entirely routed them, and was engaged in taking measures for their complete dispersion, when he received dispatches from Cromwell, informing him that his army before Clonmell was much reduced by the ravages of disease, and that they had been twice repulsed by the besieged; conjuring him therefore, by every tie of duty and affection, to hasten to 
his relief, or that he should be compelled to raise the siege.. Lord Broghill immediately returned him for answer, by his own messenger, that he had just defeated the rebels, and would be with him before Clonmell in three days. Cromwell was much pleased with this message: and when, at the time appointed, Lord Broghill appeared, he ordered the whole army to cry, “A Broghill!— A Broghill!” and ran and embraced him, thanking him for his seasonable assistance, and congratulating him on his late victory. Thus reinforced, he prosecuted the siege with redoubled vigour, and Clonmell surrendered to his victorious arms in the depth of winter. 
Cromwell being soon after sent for to oppose the Scotch, gave the chief command of the forces in Ireland to Ireton, whom he appointed his deputy, and left Lord Broghill at the head of a flying camp in Munster. In this situation he was indefatigable, taking several towns, and frequently attacking the enemy with success. In these expeditions he evinced so much ability, and gave personal proofs of such undaunted courage, that he was regarded with admiration by the whole body of the nation; and Ireton, who still suspected him of a private attachment to the royal party, is reported to have said, “‘ We must take off Broghill, or he will ruin us all.” 
Lord Broghill himself entertained great suspicions of Ireton’s jealousy of him, and therefore kept with his little army at some distance, acting independently till he was compelled to join him at the siege of Limerick. During 

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this siege the Lord Broghill. was ordered on a service 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 Limerick. 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, they fought with desperation, 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 “finished, Cromwell, who seemed resolved to attach Lord Broghill to him, by loading him with fresh favours, sent for him to England, and appointed him one of his privy council. Nor 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 public, than the constant and familiar intimacy in which he lived with Broghill, Waller, and Milton. re 
The affairs of Scotland were at this time in much. Con-

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fusion, and Cromwell, wanting a man of abilities in: whom he could confide, to preside in that country, fixed upon: Lord Broghill for that high situation. His lordship, however, was unwilling to accept so delicate an office; he was aware that his conduct would be grossly misrepresented by the factions with which that country was then divided, and he requested the Protector to excuse his not accepting that post, informing him at the same time of his reasons for refusing the honour intended him. Cromwell, however, stating that it was necessary for! his service, he was compelled to submit. He, however, obtained a promise of the Protector, that his highness would listen to no complaints which should be made against him, till he had 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 his return, found, as he expected, that numerous and violent complaints had been made against him. He, however, gave so clear.an account of his ‘reasons for his conduct in every particular, that Cromwell was perfectly satisfied, and conceived a much higher esteem for him than he had before entertained. 
During the protectorate of Cromwell, Lord Broghill had many opportunities of relieving and assisting 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 conversation, told him in.a gay manner, that an old friend of his was just come to town. Broghill desiring to know whom his highness meant? Cromwell, to his great surprise, answered, the Marquis of Ormond. On this Broghill protested 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 generous permission to save his friend, went directly to him, and acquainted him with 

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what had passed; Ormond finding himself discovered, immediately quitted London, and availed himself of the earliest opportunity of returning to the king. 
The kindness and affection with which Lord Broghill was always treated by the Protector, excited corresponding sentiments in his bosom; and when, on the decease of Oliver, his son Richard succeeded him in his power, he resolved upon endeavouring to evince his gratitude to the father, by supporting the son. He saw the weak and vacillating state of Richard Cromwell’s mind, and he soon became aware of the impossibility of his maintaining the situation to which his father’s merits and abilities had raised him. As one of his cabinet council, which consisted of Dr. Wilkins, Colonel Phillips, and himself, he had frequent opportunities of perceiving that want of decision and firmness which marked the administration of the new Protector, and which prevented his profiting by the advice of those who were so well capable of directing him. Persuaded by the faction then prevalent in the army, Richard was induced, without acquainting his cabinet council, to consent to the meeting of a general council of officers at the same time that the parliament met, Broghill was perfectly aware of the destruction the Protector was drawing on his own head by this imprudent measure, and expostulated with him on the occasion, promising at the same time, that if he would resolve upon dissolving the council at the first opportunity, he would endeavour to prevent the mischief which might otherwise ensue, having, as a general, the right to be present at its meeting. 
Wallingford House was the place appointed for the meets ing of the general council of officers, and on the first day they assembled to the number of above five hundred. After a long prayer by Dr. Owen, Major-General Desborongh rose, and ina long speech reminded them how gracious the Lord had been, and how their arms had flourished, though he feared this would not continue long, as several sons of Belial had crept in amongst them, who in all pro-

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bability would draw down the judgments of heaven upon them. To prevent this, he proposed a test to be taken by all persons in the army, that every one should swear that he believed in his conscience, that the putting to death of the late king Charles Stuart was lawful and just. This speech was received with great applause, occasioning a general cry of “well-moved!” so that many of Richard’s friends thinking it useless to oppose so evident a majority, left the house. Lord Broghill, however, 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, as many of the members were not present at the execution of the late king, and consequently. were unable to swear as to the lawfulness of a proceeding, the circumstances of which they were unacquainted with. If, however, they were resolved upon having a test, he would propose, that every person in the army should swear to defend the established government under the Protector and parliament. 
This proposition was received with a louder cry of “well-moved,” than that of Desborough’s, and was seconded with so much warmth by some other members of the council, that Desborough, after consulting with Fleet-wood, and finding it impossible to carry the test he had proposed, stated that the arguments which had been made use of by Lord Broghill, had convinced him that tests -were improper, and he therefore proposed that they should both be withdrawn, which was at length agreed to. 
On the breaking up of the council, which was adjourned till the next day, Broghill returned to the Protector, and after. pointing out. the constant difficulties in which he would be involved during their sittings, advised him to dissolve them immediately. Richard inquiring how he should do it? Broghill said that he would draw up a short 

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speech for him, which he might read to them the next morning, after having sat. among them about an hour. This was accordingly done. The following morning the Protector, to the great surprise of the assembly, seated himself in the chair of state, and after attending to the debates some time, rose and delivered the speech which had been prepared for him by the Lord Broghill, with much better grace than had been expected. 

“Gentlemen, 
“T thankfully accept of your services. I have considered your grievances, and think the properest method to redress what is amiss among you, is to do it in the parliament now sitting, and where I will take care you shall have justice done you. I therefore declare my commission for holding this assembly to be void; and that this general council is now dissolved; and I desive 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 he expressed upon this occasion, he might still have retained the power which was bequeathed to him by his father. The faction soon guessed that Broghill was the author of the speech they had just heard, and resolved to be revenged upon him for his interference. In consequence of this, at the first meeting of parliament they complained that they had been grossly abused and affronted by a certain lord in that assembly, and therefore moved that an address be presented to his highness the Protector, to know who ‘advised him to dissolve the council of war with 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, however, sat still, till his enemies had done, and then rose and said, that he was not averse to the presenting such an 

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address, but at the same time he would move 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 plans baffled a second time by the Herts of the Lord Broghill. 
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. proposal, 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 resolution. 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 is own power; and Lord Broghill seeing the family of the Cromwells was now laid aside, returned to his 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 his popularity in Munster, and his great abilities might induce the whole army of Ireland to join with him to effect his purpose. He had already 
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applied to Sir Charles Coote, who had great power in the north of Ireland, when he was summoned by ‘the commissioners to appear before them at the castle of Dublin. His friends on this advised him to stand upon his guard, and not put himself into the power of his enemies; but he thought himself not sufficiently strong to take such a step, and therefore went to Dublin, taking his 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 confine him, unless he would be answerable with his 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 take 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 his hands; if they did, he was willing to enter into any securities 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 embarrassed the commissioners, 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 suffered to retain it till they had farther orders from England. In consequence of which he was invited to dine 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 whatever, and dismissed him with the greatest respect. On his return to Munster, Lord Broghill easily saw through the mean

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ing of these outward civilities, and on his arrival at his command, exerted himseld with so much energy in the royal cause,that he was soon enabled to send over to Charles a declaration of their wish, that he should come to Ireland, signed by all the principal officers and commanders in that country. 
Soon after his brother’s departure for Flanders, he received a letter from Sir Charles Coote, informing him that their design of declaring for the king had been discovered, in consequence of which he had been compelled to debits himself sooner than he had intended, and conjuring his lordship not to forsake him in a design which he had first persuaded him to undertake. On the receipt of this Lord Broghill immediately declared himself for his majesty; and the commissioners finding themselves in the midst of two such powerful parties, made so trifling a resistance, that the whole kingdom was quickly secured in the name of his majesty Charles II 
On the return of the king to England, and his re-establishment in the throne of his father, Lord Broghill hastened to England, where he was received by Charles with great coolness. He was much surprised at this, until he discovered that Sir Charles Coote had sent over a friend to the king at Brussels, who informed him that Sir Charles was the first man in Ireland who had taken up arms for his majesty, and that Lord Broghill was extremely averse to his restoration. In consequence of this, Broghill put the letter he had received from Sir Charles into the hands of his brother, the Lord Shannon, who laid it before his majesty, who was thus convinced of the strenuous exertions of Lord Broghill in his favour, and received him afterwards in the most gracious manner. Soon after this he was created Earl of Orrery, and appointed one of his majesty’s cabinet council. He was also promoted to the situation of lord president of Munster, and named one of the lords justices for the government of Ireland. 
The tranquillity which followed the restoration of Charles rendering the Earl of Orrery’s abilities as a soldier 

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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;” “Mustapha, 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 Charles, 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 however, to be made, when we consider that these plays were composed during the excruciating fits of the gout, (a disorder which, although it may elicit spirited exclamations, is not on the whole the favourable for the development of poetic talents.) ‘This affliction 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, “Mc Anthony;” “Gusman;” ‘ Herod the Great;” and “Altemira.” His lordship is also well known as an author, by his immense romance, “Parthenissa;” a work which has been adimired 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 Letter lately printed and subscribed by Peter Walsh, Procurator 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, 1660, to the then Marquis, now Duke of Ormond, and the second time Lord-Lieutenant of that kingdom. - By the Right Honourable the Earl of Orrery, &e., being a full Discovery of the Treachery of the Irish Rebels, since 

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the beginning of the Rebellion there, necessary to be considered by all Adventurers, and other Persons estated in that Kingdom.” His poems comprise, ‘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 was 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 council, The Earl of Orrery had always been so strenuous. an opposer of the catholics that they were apprehensive that his eloquence and address might influence the council against them. 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 on their loyalty and attachment to his majesty; when the Earl of Orrery rose, and, after a handsome compliment to the king, stated that his protestant subjects in Ireland were the first who had 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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In proof of his assertions, to the great surprise of all who were present, he produced original papers, signed by the supreme council of the catholics, of which Si Nicholas Plunket himself was 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 consummate skill and address. The partial interpretation, however, which was afterwards put upon it by the judges, gave rise to much clamour and complaint, and completely deprived the measure of that conciliating effect, which had been intended by it, in restoring many of the catholics to their hereditary possessions. When the Duke of Ormond was appointed lord-lieutenant, Lord Orrery retired to his presidency of Munster, where he heard and determined causes with such judgment and impartiality as acquired him the general approbation and esteem of that province, and induced the king, after the fall of the Earl of Clarendon, to offer him the seals. The gout, however, with which he was now almost continually afflicted, induced him to decline a situation which required so regular an attendance. 
During the first Dutch war in hint France acted in confederacy with Holland, he defeated the scheme formed by the Duke de Beaufort, admiral of France, to get possession of the harbour of Kinsale; and taking advantage of the alarm of the neighbourhood, he had a fort erected under his own directions, which was named “Fort Charles.” He afterwards interested himself in an inquiry which was attempted, into the king’s revenue from Ireland; but 

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Charles having applied large sums out of that revenue, was unwilling that the inquiry should proceed, and he consequently failed in his endeavours to procure it. 
The ministry of England, which was now principally directed by Sir Thomas Clifford, apprehensive that they should not be able to succeed in their designs in Ireland, while Lord Orrery continued president of Munster, prevailed o on his majesty to direct him to discontinue his residential court, in which he sat as judge for that province, as a compensation for which, he received £8000. But soon after, they procured ¢ articles of impeachment for treason and high misdemeanours to be exhibited against him in the English house of commons; on which occasion his lordship in his place, delivered so candid, ingenuous, and satisfactory a defence, that the proceedings were dropped. He was, however, so incensed against the ministry who had thus attempted to destroy him, that when Charles II who felt a real attachment to him, offered him the post of Jord high treasurer to induce him to remain in England, he 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, he expired on the 16th 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 consider him, and have seen that he was deserving of high estimation in each of them, But 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 i in which he was so frequently involved. His generosity was great, but it was regulated by prudence; and his charities, as we are informed by his chaplain, Mr, Morrice, were extensive, and uninfluenced by any narrow illiberality of party oF religion. He possessed an undeviating integrity and Peart of principle, 

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from which we have seen, on one occasion, that bribes could not bias him, and on another he refused the offer of £4000 which Charles, who was not so delicate, is known to have put into his own privy purse. His natural talents were much improved by literature, and his wit and courage rendered still more amiable by religion., His conversation 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 born 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 commanded, 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 Broghill, 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 country, he did not avail himself of the offer of the Boyles. As a reward, however, for his services, he was in September 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 1672, he 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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‘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 rare—In Park’s edition of Orford’s Royal and Noble 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,” &c. 
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.” 

HONble ROBERT BOYLE. 
THIS 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 province 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 Patan with great didchiGh (the antic with so much accuracy, as to pass frequently when on his travels for a native of France,) he was sent by his father to England, to be educated at Eton school, under the care of Sir Henry Wotton; 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 acquirements, that he soon became accustomed to regard him as one of the most promising yourths 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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mounted on a starting horse, the animal reared up, and had almost thrown him backwards, when he would certainly have been crushed, had he not fortunately disengaged himself in time from the stirrups, and thrown himself off. On another occasion, 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 danger 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 securing 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 de Gaul,” and several other works of the same description; which, as he informs us in his Memoirs, produced. such a restlessness in him, that he was obliged to apply himself to the extraction of the square and cube roots, and to the more laborious operations 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 particularly during his residence at Geneva. ); After having remained at Eton about three years, he accompanied his father to his seat at Stalbridge, in Dorsetshire, where he continued his studies under the direction of the Rey. William Douch, rector of that place, until the autumn of 1638, when he returned to London. Here he resided with his father at the Savoy, till his brother, Mr. “Francis Boyle, espoused Mrs, Elizabeth Killigrew, 

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four days age which both brothers left England, under the care of Mr. Marcombes, with whom at his residence at Geneva, they spent nearly two years in the prosecution of their studies. In their way to that place, they passed through Paris and Lyons, at both which cities they devoted some time to observing every thing which was curious 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 monasteries of his order (the Carthusian), he was so deeply affected, that he relates that “the devil, taking advantage of that deep raving melancholy, so sad a place, his own humour, which was naturally grave and serious, and the strange stories and pictures he found there of Bruno, suggested such strange and hideous distracting doubts of some of the fundamentals of Christianity, that though 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, there 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 foundation of the christian religion; which terminating in his complete conviction of its truth, re-established his mind on 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, he proceeded to Florence, where he remained during the whole of the winter. This time he employed in the study of the Italian language, and in forming an acquaintance with the works of the celebrated astronomer Galileo, who died in a village in the neighbourhood, during Mr. Boyle’s residence at this place. In March the 

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next year, he 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 £250 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 considerable amount in Ireland. His first care, after having 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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prosecuted his researches, soon introduced. him to the acquaintance or correspondence of every person distinguished either for science or literature. These connections were the cause of occasional excursions to London, Oxford, &c. in which he formed'a personal. acquaintance with those scientific men whom he had before known merely by their 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 1652 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 he 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 prosecuting 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 [sic], 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 as 

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Wilkins; Ward, Willis, Wren, &c. who were all members of the Philosophical College, and with whom he passed his time in the pleasing reciprocation of imparting and receiving information. 
During his stay at Oxford he resided in the house of Mr, Crosse, an apothecary, which he preferred to a college, as it afforded more room for his experiments, and agreed better with his health, It was here that he invented that admirable machine, the air-pump; the immense utility of which those only who devote themselves to his studies can justly appreciate: a machine which has developed so many facts as to have led to a nearly complete theory of the air, and laid the foundation on which chemistry has been raised to that high pinnacle of perfection on which she how stands. By the assistance of Mr. Robert Hooke, professor of mathematics at Gresham College, it was at length perfected in 1678; or 1679. Mr. Boyle laboured incessantly in framing and conducting new experiments; such, he said, being the only trtie foundation of science, and the sole means by which it was possible to arrive at a knowledge of the operations of nature: and so devoted was he to this opinion, that, although the Cartesian philosophy was at that time much applauded, he would never suffer himself to be persuaded to read the works of Des Cartes, lest, by plausible hypotheses and delusive theories, he might be led away from that truth for the establishment of which he was continually se gers in collecting materials. 
Deeply, however, as he was .devoted to inquiries into nature, his attention was not exclusively directed to them, he still continued to pursue critical and theological studies, in which he was assisted by Dr. Edward Pocock, Mr. Thomas Hyde, and Mr. Samuel Clarke, all of whom were eminently skilled in the oriental languages. He also cultivated a strict intimacy with Dr. Barlow, afterwards Bishop of Lincoln, a man of the greatest variety and extent of learning, who was at that time keeper of the 

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Bodleian Library. His friend, Di. Wallis, ii 1659; dedicated to him his excellent “Treatise on the Cycloid.” And in the game year the learned Sanderson, afterwards Bishop of Lincoln, having been deprived of all his preferments in consequence of his attachment to the royal party, Mr. Boyle generously settled upon him a pension of £50 per annum, to encourage him to apply himself to the writing of cases of conscience. In consequence of which this excellent logician printed his lectures, which he had read at Oxford in 1647, “De Obligatione Conscientiæ,” and dedicated them to his friend and patron; without whose assistance, so liberally bestowed, this excellent production would have been buried, together with its pious author, in oblivion. 
On the restoration of Charles II Mr. Boyle was received by that monarch with great civility, and was solicited by Lord Clarendon, and afterwards by the Earl of Shaftesbury, to enter into orders; both of those illustrious statesmen conceiving that his unblemished life and extensive learning would give additional strength to the doctrines he should preach. This proposition was, however, declined by Mr. Boyle, who conceived that, as a layman, his works in behalf of religion would perhaps have more effect than as clergyman, as being evidently free from all suspicion of interestedness, and therefore not liable to the scoff 80 frequently aimed at those whose religion is considered as being merely their trade. In addition to this, as Burnet has informed us in his funeral sermon, he did hot feel that “inward motion to it by the Holy Ghost,” which he conceived to be essential to take upon him that important charge. 
In 1662 he commenced publishing the fruits of his studies with “New Experiments, Physico-Mechanical, touching the Spring of the Air and its Effects, made for the most part in a new pneumatical Engine.” This work he addressed to his nephew the Lord Dungarvan. He also published “Seraphic Love; or, some Motives and 

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Incentives tothe Loye of God, pathetically discoursed ‘of in a Letter to a Friend,” which was, finished as 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, 1660, that the Grand Duke of Tuscany (a prince eminently distinguished for his learning and. abilities) was desirous of engaging in a correspondence with him... The following year appeared ‘ Certain Physiological Essays and; other Tracts;” and, in 1662, he published his “Sceptical Chemist,” a work containing much curious and valuable information; and also a second edition of his “New Experiments,” 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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full of most curious and valuable remarks on this subject, which had been 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 explanation 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 Philosophical 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 its most distinguished members; and the earlier volumes of its transactions are enriched with many valuable papers from his 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 lie did not publish until 1665, when there appeared “Occasional Reflections upon several Subjects; whereto is prefixed, A Discourse about such Kind of Thoughts.” This excellent work is dedicated to his sister, the Lady Ranelagh, whose name he conceals under the fictitious appellation of Sophronia; and contains thoughts upon various subjects which strongly evince his wit, learning, and piety. In these reflections, however, he followed too closely that 

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precept of Seneca “Omnibus rebus, omnibusque sermonibus, aliquid salutare miscendum est;” the meanness of some, of the subjects exposing him to the ridicule of the celebrated Dean Swift, which was severely bestowed in “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 cannot approve of the severity of the censure, we must allow that his style is occasionally too verbose and prolix, and this more particularly in his theological treatises... He has also, and not without justice, been blamed for believing many things too easily on the credit of other people; although this has been attempted to be accounted: for, by stating that, as he abhorred to affirm what was false himself, 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, which he affirms. to be as cruel and unjust as itis, 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 Gulliver’s Travels; an assertion which certainly appears to be strongly supported by the following passage, which he has quoted in proof of his opinion: 
“You put me in mind of a fancy of your friend Mr. Boyle, who was saying that he 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 introduce an observing native, that, upon his return home from his travels made in Europe, should give an account of our countries and manners under feigned, names; and frequently intimate in his relations, or in his answers to questions that should be made him, the reasons of. his wondering 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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should ourselves’ be brought unawares to condemm,. or perhaps to laugh at them; and should at least cease to wonder to find other’ nations think them as extravagant as)we think the manners of the Dutch and Spaniards, as they are represented in our travellers’ books.” 
He also published an important work, under the title of “New Experiments and Observations upon Cold; or, an experimental History of Cold begun: with sever ctyskty thereunto annexed.” 
In August 1665, he was nominated by the king to the provostship of Eton college, which was thought the fittest employment for him in the kingdom; his excellent character alone; without ‘any solicitation, having obtained for him this noble appointment. ‘Power or wealth, however, 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 had strongly advised his 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, which he looked upon as a necessary qualification 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 Experiments,” which evince consummate judgment and indefatigable perseverance in the pursuits of truth. 
At this time the public attention was much engaged in 

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canvassing 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 produced on the imagination 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, combined 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 Pall Mall, in the house of his favourite sister, Lady Ranelagh, where he continued during the remainder 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 so 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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on those whose talents and exertions have rendered them conspicuous, that, had it not been for this well-timed arrangement, Mr. Boyle would have had but few opportunities 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 had 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 his 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 parties’ names who signed it; and that the place from whence the first writing had been discharged would bear ink again as well as ever, 
Tt 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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expended large sums of money in procuring translations of the Scriptures into various languages, and in causing them to be distributed; thus setting the example to those immense establishments which have of late years spread abroad the Gospel into the remotest parts of the earth. Among many other instances, may be mentioned his sending to the Levant many copies of “Grotius de Veritate Religionis Christiane;” translated, principally at his expense, 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 sent 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, particularly 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 had 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 

BOYLE. 167 appeared “Tracts about the Cosmical Qualities of Things; Cosmical Suspicions f the Temperature of the Subterranean Regions; the Bottom of the Sea; to which is prefixed an Introduction to the History of particular Qualities.”, This work excited considerable speculation, as it contained an immense number of facts, which were altogether new, and’ was, besides, founded upon actual experiments, from which legitimate conclusions were drawn; a method which completely and justly exploded the philosophy then popularly received, which consisted entirely of a confused 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 Society, would extend these memoirs far beyond the’ limits which ean 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: subject; as-it was regarded at the time asa 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 even by men’ of seience as a prelude to that immense discovery, as is evident from 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 multiplying 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: ef practical Philosophy.” 

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And in 1672, “An Essay. about the Origin and Virtue of Gems,” 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 Nature,” &c. and in his dedication: to Mr. Boyle, he does justice to his universal 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 published “The Excellency of Theology compared with Natural Philosophy;” and “Essays on the strange subtlety, great efficacy, and determinate nature of Effluvia; to which are added a variety of Experiments on other subjects.” And in 1674, “A Collection of Tracts upon the Saltness of the Sea, the Moisture of the Air, the Natural and Preternatural State 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 Vacuum; a Discourse of the Cause of Attraction and Suction.” 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 1676 he published “Experiments and Notes, about the mechanical Origin or Production of particular Qualities.” 
In 1677 there was printed at Geneva, without his knowledge or consent, a collection of his miscellaneous works, in Latin, of which: there is a large account given in the Philosophical Transactions. In the following year he 

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communicated to Mr. Hooke some observations on an artificial substance that shines without any. preceding illustration, which were published by’ that gentleman in his “Lectiones Cutleriane.” 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 sentiments 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 had 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 his friend Mr. Robert Hooke, being, as he says, even peculiarly tender in point of oaths. 
In 1680 he published “The Ærial 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. ‘lhe 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 England 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 necessary to be thus particular, had not Stahl, 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 consider the unimpeached veracity of Mr. Boyle, who would never have published to the world as his own discovery, a 

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 Hantkwitz, who exposed it for sale in a shop in Southampton street, Covent Garden, which has since remained a chemist’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 Noctiluca; 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, Physico-Mechanical, touching the Spring and Weight of the Air, and their effects.” In 1683 nothing appeared from his pen, except a short letter to Dr. Beal, relative to making fresh water out of salt. But in 1684 he printed two very considerable 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, which 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 afterwards. And I pray 

BOY LE. 171 

God continue your life and health, that you may still enrich the world with more.) You ‘have’ mucli outdore Sir Francis Bacon in your naturalexperiments; and you have not insinuated any thing, as he is thought to have done, tending to irreligion, but rather the contrary.” 
In 1685 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 Insalubrity of the Air, and its Effects;” which was received with: the, greatest applause; and also, “Of the Reconcileableness -of ‘specific Medicines to the corpuscular Philosophy; to which is added, a Discourse about the Advantages of the Use of simple Medicines.” In addition ta these philosophical 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 June 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-

172 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 complains 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 experiments 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 servants having broken a bottle of oil of vitriol over the chest in which they were contained; and also that his physician and friends had pressingly advised him to decline all 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 come — municate any more papers to the Royal Society; which afforded him sufficient leisure to publish “Medicina Hydrostatica, or Hydrostatics applied to the Materia Medica, shewing how, by the Weight that divers Bodies used in Physic, have in Water, one may discover whether they. 

BOY LE. 173 

be genuine or adulterate. To which is subjoined, a previous 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 contrary 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, imperfect as they are, are printed in the late edition of his works in folio. The last work which he published himself, was in the spring of 1691;”Experimenta et Observationes Physic; wherein are. briefly treated of, several subjects relating to Natural Philosophy in an Experimental Way. To which is added,a smal] Collection of strange Reports.” 
' His complaints continuing still toincrease, after a tedious and lingering illness, Edam may be regarded as a complete decay of nature, he departed this life on the 30th December, 1691; 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 mentions with particular approbation his foundation for lectures in its defence against deists, atheists, &c. without interfering with any of those points on which christians 

174 BOYLE. 

are divided into sects;;and which has since produced so many volumes of excellent discourses. He was at the expense of £700 for printing the Irish bible, which he caused to be distributed in that country, as well as large sums towards the Welch bible, and that in the Irish language 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 to enlarge upon Mr. Boyle’ s astonishing 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, particularly in geometry, his accurate and intimate acquaintance with geography and history, and his skill in physic; he says, “but for the history of nature, ancient and modern, of the productions of all countries, of the virtues and improvements of plants, of ores and minerals, and all the varieties that are in them in different 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 ‘experiments, beyond any man, as far as we know, that ever lived. And. in: these as he 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 examined 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 those 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 of the poorer for it. It was a charity to others as well as an entertainment to himself; for the produce of it was distributed by his sister and others into whose hands he 

put it.” Such is the character of Boyle, as delivered to us by 

BOYLE. 175 

his great contemporary and intimate friend;, and from: the facts of his life, and the internal evidence of his writings, we cannot conceive that the hand .of friendship: has been called upon to slur over the faults which might otherwise have appeared, or to place ina stronger light the virtues he possessed to draw the character of Boyle it needed not the pen of a friend, it is handed down to us in his works of science, in his religious reflections, and in his deeds of charity. 
Mr. Boyle was in person, tall and slender, with a pale countenance, and a weakness in his eyes, which made him very careful of them.. His constitution was so delicate, that he hadi cloaks of different. substances, to wear: when he went out, and which he put: on according to the thermometer, 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 ora 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 and vigorous state of health, which was unfortunately soon destroyed on his return home, through too «much indulgence. and) mistaken. kindness. For the last forty years, of his life, so low were his health and spirits, that it was a wonder to all who. knew him, how he could: read, study, make experiments, and write in the manner he did: He also had an impediment in his speech, which continued through the whole of his life, he having contracted it when a child, from. ate 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 Cary, 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 

176 BOYLE. 

informs us that he refrained from marriage at first through prudential motives, and afterwards more philosophically; 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 red and politeness. 
In the habit of familiar intercourse with Charles II James II and William III all of whom were much: attached 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 speaking 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 and 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 T'ravellers and Navigators. To which are added, other Directions 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 30, 1680;” printed 

BOYLE. 177? 

in the Philosophical Transactions. “A free Discourse against customary Swearing, and a Dissuasive from Cursing;” and, lastly, “Medicinal Experiments; or, a Collection of choice Remedies, 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 addition of a second part; to which was now added (in 1698) a third volume, as above. 
These posthumous works, joined to those before mentioned, 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
LADY O’NEILL, 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 her 

ODE TO THE POPPY
Not for the promise of the labour’d field,
 Not for the good the yellow harvests yield, 
I bend at Ceres’ shrine; ’ 
For dull to humid eyes appear 
The golden glories of the year; 
Alas! a melancholy worship’s mine:

I hail the goddess for her scarlet flow’r! 
Thou brilliant weed, 
That dost so far exceed 
The richest gifts gay Flora can bestow, 
HeedlessI pass’d thee in life’s morning hour, 
Thou comforter of woe, 
Till sorrow taught me to confess thy pow’r.

178 BOYLE. 

In early days, when fancy cheats,
 A various wreath I wove, 
Of laughing spring’s luxuriant sweets, 
To deck ungrateful love.

The rose or thorn my numbers crown’d, 
As Venus smil’d, or Venus frown’d, 
But love and joy and all their train are flown; 
E’en languid hope no more is mine, 
And I will sing of thee alone; 
Unless perchance the attributes of grief, 
The cypress bud and willow leaf, 
Their pale funereal foliage blend with thine.

Hail, lovely blossom! thou can’st ease
The wretched victims of disease;
Can’st close those weary eyes in gentle sleep, 
Which never open put to weep;
For oh! thy potent charm “ Can agonising grief disarm;
Expel imperious memory from her seat,
And bid the throbbing heart forget to beat.

Soul-soothing plant, that can such blessings give, 
By thee the mourner bears to live! 
By thee the hopeless die! Oh, ever friendly to despair,
 Might sorrow’s pallid votary dare, 
Without a crime that remedy implore, . 
Which bids the spirit from its bondage fly, 
I’d court thy palliative aid no more, .

No more I'd sue that thou shouldst spread 
Thy spell around my aching head, 
But would conjure thee to impart 
Thy balsam for a broken heart! 
And by thy soft Lethean pow’r, 
Inestimable flower, 
Burst these terrestrial bonds,.and other regions try.

She was the only daughter of Charles, Viscount Dungarvan, eldest son of John, Earl of Cork, and born in the year 1758. She married, in October 1777, John O'Neill, Esq. of Slanes Castle [sic for Shane’s], in the county of Antrim, who was created a peer of Ireland in November 1793, and about two months after he had the misfortune to become a widower. 

179 ROGER BOYLE
A PRELATE of great learning and an unblameable life, was a native 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 translated to the see of Clogher, on the 21st of September, 1672. He died on the 26th of November, 1687, in the 70th year of his age, and was buried in the church of Clunes. He wrote “Inquisitio in Fidem Christianorum hujus Seculi,” Dublin, 1665, 12mo. “Summa Theologiæ Christianæ,” 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 has been asserted with some truth, that the number of individuals to whom no circumstances can teach wisdom is absolutely countless, and amongst that numerous class may be included the subject of the present memoir. He was the only son of his father, who was an eminent dis-

180 BOYSE. 

senting minister in England, but accepting an invitation to be joint pastor with Dr. Williams, in Dublin, he removed thither; but at what period he died is unknown. He was considered as a learned, pious, and useful divine; assiduous in the exercise of his ministry, and in his conduct generally esteemed. Samuel, who was in every respect the reverse of his father, was born 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 a serious interruption by a love affair, with a Miss Atcheson, the daughter of a respectable tradesman in that city, who, being possessed of both beauty and thoughtlessness, 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 her sister; but, notwithstanding this addition of interesting’ incumbrance, and the 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, produced no corresponding effects on the degraded mind and abandoned heart of his son; who, far from attempting to prosecute his studies, gave way to the most unremitting 

BOYSE. 181 

idleness and dissipation. 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 amusing, and thus sacrificed fact on the altar of fiction. 
‘His father died in the year 1728, and his entire property having been exhausted in the support of his son, the latter repaired to Edinburgh, where his 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 Tablature of Cebes, and a Letter upon Liberty, which had been previously published in the Dublin Journal. This volume was addressed to the Countess of Eglinton, a lady of distinguished 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 distinguished Mr. Boyse while he resided in that country. It is likewise recorded of this damsel, that she was not totally 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 betrayed her into errors. 
The following short anecdote was frequently related by Mr. Boyse. The countess one day came into the bed-

182 BOYSE

chamber of her youngest daughter, then about thirteen years old, while she was dressing at her toilet; the countess observing the assiduity with which the young lady wanted to set off her person to the best advantage, asked her, “What she would give to be as handsome as her mamma?” To which Miss replied, “As much as your ladyship would give to be as young as me.” This smart repartee, which was at once pungent and witty, very sensibly affected the countess; who, for the future, was less lavish of her own charms. 
Upon the death of the Viscountess Stormont he wrote an elegy, entitled “The Tears of the Muses;” in compliment to her ladyship’s taste, as a patroness of poets. Lord Stormont was so highly gratified with this mark of respect to the memory of his deceased lady, that he ordered a handsome present to be made to the author, whom however it was no easy matter to find, as a radical meanness of character, and partiality for low pleasantry, together with an aversion to all decent society, had possessed him so entirely, that Boyse’s person was known only among the lower orders; and the generous intention of Lord Stormont would have been frustrated, had not his agent put an advertisement into the papers, requesting the author of “The Tears of the Muses” to call upon him. 
These substantial tokens of favour, on the part of his lordship, and of the Countess of Eglinton, served to procure for him the patronage of the Duchess of Gordon, who likewise was a person of literary taste, and cultivated the correspondence of some of the most eminent poets of her time: and so desirous was she of raising Boyse from obscurity, and placing him above necessity, that she employed her interest in procuring for him the promise of a place; and, accordingly, gave him a letter, which he was the next day to deliver to one of the commissioners of the customs at Edinburgh; but it unluckily happened that he was then some miles distant 

BOYSE. 183 

from the city, and the morning on which he was to have rode to town with her grace’s letter, proved to be rainy. This trivial circumstance was sufficient to discourage Boyse, who was never accustomed to look beyond the present moment, and who invariably acted up to the old Spanish proverb of “Never doing that to-day, that can be done to-morrow;” he, therefore, declined going to town on account of the rainy weather; and while he let slip the opportunity, the place was bestowed upon another; and he was consoled by the commissioner’s declaration, “that he had kept the place vacant for some time in expectation of seeing a person recommended by the Duchess of Gordon.”
Such is the story of the disappointment, in which all Boyse’s biographers have’ acquiesced, and which bears strongly the marks of probability. Its consistency has been objected to by some on ‘account of the ‘epithet * some time” being applied by the commissioner; but let it be remembered that Boyse had studied, and was thoroughly acquainted with every chapter of “The Art of Indolence,” and that there was 7o space of time but what he would have got rid of without knowing how. 
It is certain that this, as well as every other kind intention of his patrons in Scotland, were defeated by his perverse conduct; and that he remained at Edinburgh until contempt and poverty were succeeded by the dread of incarceration. ‘To escape from a prospect, which, viewed at all points, appeared dreary in the extreme, he determined on visiting London; and had no sooner communicated his design of going to England, than the Duchess of Gordon (who still retained a high opinion of his poetical abilities) gave him a recommendatory letter to Mr. Pope, and obtained another for him to Sir Peter King, then lord chancellor, and procured for him several, to persons of rank, fashion, and influence. Lord Stormont also recommended him to his brother, the solicitor-general, afterwards the celebrated Lord Mansfield. Upon receiving these let-

48 1 BOYSE. 

ters, he, with great caution, quitted Edinburgh; and his absence was regretted by a numerous class of society—his creditors. 
On his arrival in London, in 1737, he waited on Pope, but 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 Porr. 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 recommendations 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 Cibber’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 

BOYSE. 185 

charity, without having any one to participate the regale with him, 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 rejoice while we write that we believe it to be unequalled in the annals of depravity. 
About the year 1738 he published a pane 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. subsistence he procured was. by writing occasional poems for the magazines. Of the disposition of his apparel, 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. Johnson 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 Cibber, 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 his 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 considerable value, Hervey introduced the mention of it in his Meditations, “as a beautiful and instructive poem;” and Fielding, in his Tom Jones, after extracting a few lines, 

186 BOYSE 

adds, that they are taken from “a very noble poem, called the Deity, published about nine years ago (1749), and long-since buried in oblivion; a proof that good books no more than good men, do always survive the bad.” These encomiums tended to revive the poem, of which a third edition was published in 1752; and it has since been reprinted in various collections. Fielding’s respect for this poem was uniform. He praised it in a periodical paper, called The Champion, dated February 12, 1739-40, but at the same time points out its defects, and seems to object to the author’s orthodoxy. An account of the Deity was sent to the Gentleman’s Magazine, and, although not inserted, was probably the means of Boyse’s introduction to Mr. Cave, from whom he obtained some supplies for writing and translating in that journal between the years 1741 and 1743. Cave’s practice was to pay by the hundred lines, which after a while he wanted poor Boyse to make what is called the long hundred. His usual signature for his poems was Y. or Alceus. When in a spunging-house in Grocer’s-alley, 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 coelo summo, 
Sine panno, sine nummo, 
Sorte positus infeste, 
Scribo tibi dolens meeste: 
Fame, bile, tumet jecur, 
URBANE, mitte opem, precor; 
Tibi enim cor humanum 
Non a malis alienum: 
Mihi mens nec male grata,
 Pro a te favore data.
Alcæus.,
Ex gehenna debitoria, 
Vulgo domo spongiatoria. 
Sir, ‘I wrote you yesterday an account of my unhappy case. I am every moment threatened to be turned out here, 

BOYSE. 187 

because I have not money to pay for my bed two nights past, which is usually paid before-hand, and I am loth to go into the Compter ‘till I can see if my affair can possibly be made up: I hope therefore you will have the humanity to send me half a guinea for support, ’till I finish your papers in my hands.—The Ode to the British Nation I hope to have done to-day, and want a proof copy of that part of Stowe \you design for the present magazine, that it may be improved as far as possible from your assistance. Your papers are but ill-transcribed. I agree with you as to St..Augustin’s Cave. I humbly entreat your answer, having not tasted any thing since Tuesday evening I came here, and my coat will be taken off my back for the charge of the bed, so that must go into prison naked, which is too shocking for me to think of. 
I am, with sincere regard, Sir, Your unfortunate humble servant, 
S. Boyse.” “Crown Coffee-house, Grocer’s alley, Poultry, July 21, 1742.”
July 21, 1742. 
“Received from Mr. Cave the sum of half-a-guinea, by me, in confinement. S. Boyse, “10s. 6d. Sent. 
‘1 send Mr. Van Haren’s Ode on Britain.” 
“To Mr. Cave, at St. John’s-gate, Clerkenwell.” 

The Ode on the British Nation, mentioned here, is a translation from Van Haren, a Dutch poet, from whose works he 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 Gentleman’s Magazine during the years above mentioned, are reprinted in the late edition of the English Poets; but all of his fugitive pieces were not written for the magazine, some of them having been composed long before he had formed a connection with Cave, and, as there 

188 BOYSE. 

is reason to believe, sent in manuscript to such persons as were likely to make him a pecuniary return.: 
By a letter to Dr. Birch*, dated October 23, 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 his 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 misconduct! 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 I 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, I 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 affliction, is no security against 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 L wait on Lord Halifax, (which a small matter would enable me to 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, 4301, in Brit. Mus, 

BOYSE. 189 

from the ruin that seems’ to threaten me if I continue longer in the condition I am in: and as I should 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 you will forgive this liberty, and believe me, with the greatest gratitude and esteem, 
“Yours, &c. 
“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 16th of the same month, when Boyse sent another importunate 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. Proposals 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 encouraging 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 fragment 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, published in 1747, in two volumes octavo, under the title of 

190 BOYSE. 

“An Historical Review of the Transactions of Europe, from the Commencement of the War with Spain in 1739 to the Insurrection in Scotland in 1745; with the Proceedings in Parliament, and the most remarkable Domestic Occurrences during that period. To which is added, an impartial History of the late Rebellion, interspered [sic] with Characters and Memoirs, and illustrated with Notes.” To this he affixed his name, with the addition of M.A. a degree which it is probable he assumed without authority. The work, however, considered as a compilation of recent and 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 to the present state of his mind and situation: “My salary is wretchedly small (half-a-guinea a week) both for writing the history and correcting the press; but I bless God I enjoy a greater degree of health than I have known for many years, and a serene melancholy, which I prefer to the most poignant sensations of pleasure Lever knew.—All I sigh for is a settlement, with some degree of independence, for my last stage of life, that I may have the comfort of my poor dear girl to be near me, and close my eyes. 1 should be glad to know if you have seen my history, from which you must not expect great things, as I have been over-persuaded to put my name to a composure, for which we ought to have had at least more time and better materials, and from which have neither profit nor reputation to expect. I am now beginning “The History of the Rebellion,” a very difficult and invidious task. All the accounts I have yet seen are either defective, confused, or heavy. I think myself, from my long residence in Scotland, not unqualified for the attempt, but I apprehend it is premature; and, by waiting a year or two, better materials would offer. Some account, I think, will probably be published abroad, and give us light into many things we are now at a loss to account for. I am about a translation (at my leisure hours) of an invaluable French work, 

BOYSE. 191 

entitled “L’Histoire Universelle,” by the late M. Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, and preceptor to the dauphin, eldest son of Lewis XLV. I propose only to give his dissertations on the ancient empires, viz. the Egyptian, Assyrian, Grecian, and Roman, which he has described with surprising conciseness, and with equal judgment and beauty. I design to inscribe it to the Right Honourable Mr. Lyttelton, one of the lords of the treasury, one of the most amiable men I have ever known, and to whose uncommon goodness, if you knew my obligations, you would esteem him as much as he deserves.” 
Daring his residence at Reading, his wife died, and notwithstanding the good sense expressed in the above letter, he put on airs of concern on this occasion, which inclines us to think that intemperance had in some degree injured his reason. Being unable to purchase mourning, he tied a piece of black ribbon round the neck of a lap-dog which he carried about in his arms; and when in liquor, he always indulged a dream of his’ wife’s being still alive, 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 he had money to spend. The manner, it is added, by his biographer, of his becoming intoxicated, was very particular. As he had no spirit to keep good company, he retired to some obscure ale-house, and regaled himself with hot twopenny, which, though he drank in very great quantities, yet he had 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. a 
After his return from Reading, his behaviour, it is said, became so decent, that hopes were entertained of his reformation. He now obtained some employment from the booksellers in translating, of which, from the French language at least, he was very capable; but his former irregularities had gradually undermined his constitution, and enfeebled his powers both of body and mind. He 

192 BOYSE. 

died, after a lingering illness, in obscure lodgings near Shoe-lane, in the month of May 1749. The manner of his death is variously related. Mr. Giles, a collector of poems, says he 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 Edinburgh, who had long been intimately acquainted with Mr. Boyse, in 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 probably induce the consumption of which he died. About nine months before his 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 imagined he was dying, as he always was talking of his recovery; 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 accompts; but I suppose were his manuscripts, 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 apprehensive of death, yet, must own, that he never intimated it to me, nor did he seem in the least desirous of any spiritual advice. For some months before his end, he had 

BOYSE. 19% 

Aeft off drinking all ‘fermented liquors, except how and then a glass of wine to support his spirits, and that he took very moderately. After his death I endeavoured all I could to: get him decently buried, by soliciting those dissenters who were the friends of him and his father, but to no purpose; for only Dr. Grosvenor, in Hoxton-square, a dissenting teacher, offered to join towards it. He had quite tired out those friends in his life-time; and the -general answer that I received was, “That such a contribution was of no service to him, for it was a matter of -no importance how or where he was buried.” As I found nothing could be done, our last resource was an application to the parish; nor was it without some difficulty, occasioned by the malice of his landlady, that we at last got him interred on the Saturday after he died. Three more of Mr, Johnson’s amanuenses, and myself, attended the corpse to the grave. Such was the miserable end of poor Sam, who was obliged to be buried in the same charitable manner with his first wife; a burial, of which he had often mentioned his abhorrence.” Although there is too much reason to believe that no part of Boyse’s character has been misrepresented in the ‘preceding narrative, he must not be deprived of the evidence which Mr. Nichols’s correspondent has advanced in his favour. He assures us that he knew him from the year 1732 to the time of his death; and that he never saw any thing in his wife’s conduct that deserved censure; that he was a man of learning; and when in company with those by whom he was not awed, an entertaining companion; but so irregular and inconsistent in his conduct; that it appeared as if he had been actuated by two different souls on different occasions. These last accounts are in some degree confirmed by the writer of his life in Cibber’s collection, who says that while Boyse was in his Jast illness, he had no notion of his approaching end, nor “did he expect it until it was almost past the thinking of.” His mind, indeed, was often religiously disposed; he 

194. BOYSE. 

frequently thought upon that subject; and probably suffered a great deal from the remorse of his conscience. The early impressions of his good education were never entirely obliterated; and 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 subjection of the other, It was, adds the same author, in consequence of this war in his mind, that he wrote a beautiful 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 reconcile 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 impossible, 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 dullness would reveal or censure 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 life 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-

BOYSE. 195 

sipated and thoughtless of what dissipation and thoughtlessness must inevitably produce. It is much to be regretted, 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 inseparable lot of men of distinguished talents, and that the world has no rewards for those by whom it has been instructed 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 unanswerable, if we had no means of looking more closely into the lives of those who are said to have been denied that extraordinary indulgence to which they laid claim. Where the truth has been honestly divulged, however, we shall find that of the complaints which lenity or affectation 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. Whatever 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 delusions, which, if perpetuated by mistaken kindness, cannot add anything 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 could justly complain. He exhausted the patience of one set of friends 

196 BOYSE. 

after another, with such unfeeling contempt and ingratitude, that we are not to wonder at his living the precarious life of an outcast, of a man who belongs to no society, and whom no society is bound to maintain. Among his patrons were many persons of high rank and opulence, whom he rendered ashamed of their patronage, and perhaps prevented from the exercise of general kindness, lest it might be disgraced by the encouragement of those who dissipate every favour in low and wanton excesses. 
What can be urged in his favour from internal evidence ought not to be concealed. We do not find in his works much of the cant of complaint: and, although he submitted to every mean art of supplication, he does not seem to have resented a denial as an insult, nor to have taken much pains to make the worse appear the better cause. In his private letters, indeed, he sometimes endeavoured, by false professions and imaginary misfortunes, to impose upon 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 mistaken for right reason. He was not, therefore, without his hours of remorse; and towards the latter part of his life, when 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 “Deity,” which, although irregular and monotonous, contains many striking proofs of poetical genius. The effort indicates no small elevation of mind, even while we must allow that success is beyond all human power. His other pieces may be regarded as curiosities, as the productions of a man who never enjoyed the undisturbed exercise of his powers, who wrote in circumstances of peculiar distress, heightened by the consciousness that he could obtain only temporary relief, that he had forfeited the respect due to genius, and could expect to be rewarded only by those to whom he was least known. We are told that he wrote all his poems with ease, and even 

BRABAZON. 197 

rapidity. That many of his lines are incorrect will not therefore excite surprise, especially when we consider that he wrote for immediate relief, and not for fame, and that when one piece had produced him a benefaction, he generally dismissed it from his mind, and began another, about which he had no other care than that it might answer the same purpose. 

WILLIAM BRABAZON, 
THE FIRST EARL OF MEATH, was the eldest son of Sir Edward Brabazon, Lord Ardee, and was born in 1679. He was knighted during the life of his father, and succeeded to his honours and estates on his decease in 1625. He was soon after appointed custos rotulorum of the county of Dublin, and in 1627 created Earl of Meath; his majesty, Charles I, as the chancery rolls express it, “esteeming it a principal strength and ornament to his royal estate in his several kingdoms, to have the same attended on by persons dignified with titles of honour, and being careful to confer the same upon such whose virtues do deserve it, made choice of his lordship, to advance him to a more eminent degree of honour, by making him an earl of his realm of Ireland, having received very good testimony of his virtues and merits, and of the long continuance of his ancestors in the service of the crown there, as counsellor and officer of state, and of his and their constancy in the profession of true religion.” And, “also, in regard of his many good 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 in 1641, he suffered much from the damages and destruction committed by the insurgents on his estates, and his house at Kilrothery, together with his gardens, &c. were destroyed in cutting trenches for the defence of the city of Dublin. In 1644, he was deputed by the Marquis of 

198 BRADY. 

Ormond, to attend Charles I, at Oxford, in company with Sir Henry Tichburne and Sir James Ware, to explain to 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 Marquis 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. 

Dr. 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 Christchurch, Oxford. After continuing there about four years, he went to Dublin, where his father resided; at which university 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 was 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 James’s general, M’Carty, he 

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 preferments 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 Warwickshire, and at length rector of Clapham in Surrey; which last, together with Richmond, he held till his death. His preferments amounted to 600/. a year, but he was so little of an œconomist as to be obliged to keep a school at Richmond. He was also 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 sixty-six, 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 his name was not so familiar — as a translator of the new version of the “Psalms,” in conjunction with Mr. Tate, which version was licensed in 1696. He translated also the “Æneids of Virgil,” published by subscription in 1726, 4 vols. 8vo; and a tragedy, called ‘¢ The Rape, or the Innocent Impostors,” neither performances 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, 8vo. 

200 

LIEUTENANT-GEN. R. BRERETON 
Was an intrepid officer in his majesty’s service for upwards of fifty years. He served in the last two campaigns of the American war of 1775; in the West Indies, and in the Mediterranean for five years. He was constantly employed in active service, during which periods he conducted himself with courage cool and determined. He was present at most of the battles since the year 1793, and particularly distinguished himself at Toulon, in Corsica, and in Holland. He returned to the West Indies in 1803, and was at the last reduction of St. Lucia, where he continued commandant till 1807, when he obtained permission to revisit his native country for the recovery of his health, he being seriously affected by a liver complaint, which was contracted by a residence of thirteen years in tropical climates, and which terminated his existence on the Ist of July, 1816, at New Abbey, Kildare. 

St. BRIGIT
Sr. Briar, or Bridget, and by contraction Bride, Abbess, and a Saint of the Romish church, and the patroness of Ireland, flourished in the beginning of the sixth century, and is named in the martyrology of Bede, and in all others since that age. She was born at Fochard in Ulster, soon after Ireland was converted to the christian faith. She received the religious veil, at an early age, from the hands of St. Niel, nephew of St. Patrick. She built herself a cell under a large oak, thence called Kill-dara, or the cell of the oak; living, it may be presumed, from the veneration with which her name has been 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 time branched out into several other nunneries 

BRODRICK. 201 

throughout Ireland, all of which acknowledged her for their mother and foundress. Her biographers give no particulars of her life, but what relates to miracles. Several churches in England and Scotland are dedicated to her, some also in Germany and France, by which we may judge of her past reputation. 
She died at the age of seventy, A. D. 521, and Giraldus Cambrensis informs us, that her body was found with those 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; but their monument was destroyed in the reign of Henry VIII. She was commemorated in many churches in Germany and France, until the year 1607, and likewise in the Roman martyrology on the ist of February. 

ALLAN BRODRICK
FIRST VISCOUNT MIDLETON, was the second son of Sir St. John Brodrick, and was educated to the profession of the law in which he speedily attained to eminence, being appointed, in 1690, his majesty’s serjeant. In, 1695 he was advanced to the office of solicitor-general of Ireland; and in 1703, being returned to the parliament as member for the city of Cork, he was unanimously chosen speaker of the house of commons; and their choice was confirmed by the lord chancellor, in the name of the Duke of Ormond, then lord-lieutenant, in a highly flattering speech. This good understanding, however, was soon broken; Brodrick appears to have been a firm and warm friend to his country, and the powerful opposition which he made to some bills, proposed by the 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 

202 BRODRICK. 

Pyne, chief justice of the king’s bench in Ireland, he was 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 he 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 of 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 1. 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 was created Viscount, Midleton. He was afterwards chosen a member of the British parliament for Midhurst, in Sussex; and died in February 1727. 

903 

HENRY BROOKE, 
THE AUTHOR of “Gustavus Vasa,” and “The Fool of Quality,” was born in Ireland in 1706. His father, a man of considerable talent and great worth, was rector of the parishes of Kollinhare, Mullough, Mybullough, and Licowie: 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, endeared him to the first characters there, and he was generally 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 the pleasures of imagination, and was so opposite to the feelings of a mind, tender, benevolent, and romantic. A 

204 BROOKE. 

journey to London was resolved on; there he might indulge his genius, enjoy the advantages of literary society, and by the execution of literary schemes, be finally rewarded with fame and wealth. Accordingly, on his arrival, he hastened to renew his acquaintance with his former friends, and, under the eye of Pope, wrote, and published his philosophical poem of “Universal Beauty,” in 1735. He was soon, however, obliged to return to Ireland, where for a short time he practised, though reluctantly, as a chamber-council. But the desire of acquiring distinction in elegant literature, was not to be conquered, and a third journey to London was the consequence: this was in 1737. He was introduced to Lord Lyttleton and others, the political and literary adherents of the Prince of Wales; he was caressed and treated with friendly familiarity, and received from the latter many elegant and friendly tokens of regard. Amidst such society, he had every thing to cherish his ambitious hopes of fame and independence, and he readily caught that fervour of enthusiasm, which was the bond 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 testimony: “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 discouraged those from the attempt, whose poetical talents are much superior to mine.” He was, however, by his political friends, diverted from completing the translation, and his talent conducted to another channel, and, as it were, joined to a host of writers, who wielded the weapons of literature against the minister of the day. Paul Whitehead wrote satires; Fielding, comedies and farces; Glover, an epic poem; and Brooke, encouraged to introduce Walpole in tragedy, wrote “Gustavus Vasa, the Deliverer of his Country:” it was accepted at Drury Lane, but when on the point of performance, an order from the lord chamberlain arrived to prohibit it. This piece, animated 

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with the noblest sentiments of liberty, was, however, considered at the time to contain a considerable portion of party spirit, and the character of Trollio, the Swedish minister, as intended for Sir Robert Walpole: but it may be doubted whether this minister gained any thing by prohibiting its performance, since he could not suppress its publication. By the prohibition, curiosity was awakened in an uncommon degree, and it excited an enthusiastic ardour in his favour, amongst his friends and of the public generally, who were not biassed by the other party, and the author was more richly rewarded than he would have been by the profits of the theatre. Above a thousand copies were subscribed for, at five shillings each, and by — the sale of subsequent editions, he cleared about a thousand pounds, Dr. Johnson appeared at his side, and wrote a very ingenious satirical pamphlet, entitled “A Complete Vindication of the Licensers of the Stage from the malicious Aspersions of Mr. Brooke, Author of Gustavus Vasa, 1739,” 4to.: 
The fame Brooke acquired by this play, seemed the earnest of a prosperous career, and as at this time the prince proposed Mrs. Brooke as wet-nurse to the child of © whom the princess was then pregnant, the most flattering prospects opened to his imagination. He hired a house at Twickenham, near to Pope’s, furnished it genteelly, and sent for Mrs. Brooke and family. But, alas! his flattering prospects were soon obscured; he was taken ill, and his complaint continued so violent and obstinate, that his physicians considered his life in danger, and advised, as a last resource, his native air, He accordingly removed thither, and soon recovered. But when his return was expected by his friends, to their great surprise he parted with the house at Twickenham, and determined to remain in Ireland. For a conduct so apparently inconsistent, both as to interest and inclination, he declined accounting for. It afterwards appeared Mrs. Brooke was alarmed at the zeal with which he espoused the cause of the opposition, 

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and dreaded the consequence with which his next publication 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 being a profession better suited to his principles, disposition, and his genius, than that of the law; and also less injurious to his 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 dramatic writer. 
In 1741 he contributed to Ogle’s version of Chaucer’s “Constantia; or, the Man of Law’s Tale;” and, in 1745, his tragedy of the “Earl of Westmoreland,” was performed on the Dublin stage. The Farmer’s Letters appeared 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 viceroy, and patronized Mr. Brooke, from the admiration of his talents, and the respect which his virtues obtained from . all. The office of barrack-master was conferred on him, which fixed him some years in Dublin, In 1746 he wrote an epilogue on the birth-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, viz. “The Temple of Hymen;” “The Sparrow and Dove;” “The Female Seducers;” and “Love and Vanity.” In 1748 he wrote a prologue to “The Foundling;” and an opera, entitled “* Little John and the Giants.” This was acted only ane 

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night, in Dublin, being prohibited on account of political allusions. This produced “The last Speech of John Good, alias Jack the Giant Queller; a satirical effusion, mixed with political allegory, and a profusion of quotations 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 Contending Brothers;” “The Female Officer;” and “The Marriage Contract,” comedies: “The Impostor,” a tragedy; and. “Cymbeline,” an alteration 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 endeavoured 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 nothing but an, old wife’s fable. Its success did not answer his. expectations; and, wearied at length with fruitless efforts to arouse the slumbering genius of his country, disappointed, and disgusted, he withdrew to his paternal seat, and there, in the society of the Muses, and the peaceful bosom of domestic love, consoled himself for lost advantages and deceitful hopes. An affectionate and only brother, 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—discord never entered their habitation, it was a little paradise—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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with the knowledge of human life and manners, and in which are admirable traits of moral feeling and propriety; but, towards the close, there is too much of religious discussion for a work of this nature. It became, however, when completed in 5 vols. in 1770, a very popular novel; and has gone through several editions. In 1772 he published “Redemption,” a poem; in which that great mystery of our religion is explained, with a boldness and amplification seldom hazarded; and it must be admitted, that sometimes his enthusiasm surmounted his better judgment, and in this poem the introduction of rhymes, which must be read according to the vulgar Irish, deducted considerably from the merit of the performance. His las¢ work was “Juliet Grenville,” a novel in three volumes, which appeared in 1774; and is very justly entitled “The History of the Human Heart,” the secret movements of which few novelists have better displayed; but there is such a mixture of the most sacred doctrines of religion with the common and trifling incidents of modern romance, that his best friends could not but lament the absence of that genius, spirit, and judgment which once enlightened his mind. It has been said, that, in this year, Garrick pressed him earnestly to write for the stage; but there are so many reasons for supposing this to be incorrect, that it is needless to mention contradictory reports. 
Our author’s tenderness of heart, and unsuspecting temper, involved him in pecuniary difficulties. He could not be deaf to a tale of distress; his purse was ever ready, and he relieved their necessities, and added to his own. At length he was compelled, first to mortgage, and then to sell his paternal lands, and remove to Kildare. Here he resided some time, and then took a farm near his former residence. Not long after his removal, his mind received a shock, by the death of his wife, which it never wholly recovered; they had been happily united for nearly fifty years. ‘This calamity, aggravated by the decease of 

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his children, which, from seventeen, were now reduced to two, together with his pecuniary embarrassments, was followed by such a state of mental imbecility as to leave little hopeof recovery. However, religion had early been planted in his mind; and though the blossoms for a time appeared to wither, the root lived; and, as he approached his last days, it revived, and like a medicinal balm shed its healing balsam on his wounded heart. He died, Oct. 10, 1783, leaving a son, since dead; and adaughter, the child of his old age. He was in possession of the place of barrack-master of Mullingar 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 1792 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 contemporaries 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 contradictory; 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 explain. 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: humorous sketches of vulgar or fashionable life; yet this is frequently 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, “Universal 

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Beauty,” has a charming 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 methodistical, yet he uniformly supported the stage; and we find even trifling farces among his works. Whether the importunity of injudicious friends, or the pressing occasions of embarrassed 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 family to prayer; and he not only read, but expounded the Scriptures to them, with a clearness and fervency edifying and interesting. The following anecdote will more immediately illustrate his ability on this head: , 
One Sunday, while the congregation were assembled in the rural church of the parish in which he lived, they waited a long time the arrival of their clergyman. At last, finding he was not likely to come that day, they judged that 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 Scriptures. He consented, and the previous prayers being over, he opened the Bible, and preached extempore on the first text that struck hiseye. In the middle of his discourse the clergyman 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 in the moist eyes of all present, he would think it presumption and folly to hazard any thing of his own. Accordingly, the concluding prayers alone were said, and the congregation dismissed for the day. 

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 Among his tenants and humble friends, he was the benevolent and generous character he had been accustomed to depict in his works; and it may be truly said, whilst he had the means,—he relieved the poor, comforted the afflicted, conyerted the weak, and eray went about oe good. 

CHARLOTTE BROOKE 
Was daughter of the above, and was one of the brightest literary ornaments of her country. It is to be regretted of a lady so celebrated, so little is known. Her first publication was a translation of a Song, and Monody by Carolan, 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 prevailed on by Mr. Walker, and others of her literary friends, to conquer her timidity, and to engage in” work for which she seemed admirably calculated. Accordingly, in the year 1787, she undertook a translation of such productions of merit of the ancient and modern Irish Bards, as she could collect amongst her friends, and in the year following appeared her “Reliques of Irish Poetry;” a work universally and justly admired, as affording gratification, both to the antiquary and lover of poesy. . 
In the year 1791, she once more presented herself before the public eye, as in the early part of that year, she published “The School for Christians, in Dialogues, for the use of Children.” In the preface to this little work, she — informs us, that “her only object in this publication is, the happiness of seeing it become useful to her species, and the pleasure of bestowing the profits of the book on 

12 BROOKS. 

the enlargement 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: anxious 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 29th 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, or BROOKES, 
Aw 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 England, he produced a specimen of an art which has since been applied and extended to a very considerable 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 general patriot and worthy character, Sir Theodore Jansen, he conceived it might prove a national advantage, and readily embarked in it, taking 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 employed, 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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hel have been 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 commission 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 house, Brooks manifested his regard for him by following him to the “White Hart,” Bloomsbury, where he remained in the same happy state of seclusion for years, and was at last compelled to leave the house by an event which he, 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 (who was then very eminent) took him home “from whose house,” says his biographer, with an elegant archness, “he never moved until turned out by the undertakers.” 
Although in his latter days he was systematically dissipated, 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 ILL. 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 fine impression; and was not convinced until the original was 

214 ROUNCKER. 

produced, to shew that this was a variation in some trifling circumstances. 
He lived about the year 1742. His prints are chiefly portraits; amongst which are Hugh Boulter, Archbishop of Armagh, and William Aldrich, lord mayor of Dublin. There is also a print of the battle of the Boyne by him after Wyck. 

Sir WILLIAM BROUNCKER, 
Viscount or Castle Lyons, an eminent mathematician, and the first president of the Royal Society, was born about the year 1620. He received no regular university education, but applied himself with such diligence to the study of the mathematics, as to arrive at great perfection in that useful branch of knowledge. He succeeded to his father’s honours in 1645, and in June in the following year he was created M.D. of the university of Oxford. In April 1660, he subscribed with many others, a declaration wherein General Monk was acknowledged the restorer of the laws and privileges of these nations. 
On the incorporation of the Royal Society in 1662, he was appointed president pro tempore, a situation which was at first continued to him by monthly, and afterwards by yearly elections. In 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 oftices of chancellor to Queen Catherine, and, keeper of her great seal; and was one of the commissioners for executing the office 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 common ’ pleas. . ayn 
He died at his house in St. James’s Street, Westminster, April 5, 1684, aged sixty-four years, and was buried on the 14th of the same month, in a vault which he had pre-

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pared for himself in the middle of the choir belonging to the hospital of St. Catherine. A list of his works are to be found in Park’s edition of Lord Orford’s Noble Authors. 

DR. JEMMET BROWN 
Was descended from a respectable family long settled at Cork. His grandfather was a merchant of considerable consequence, and intending his eldest son for the mercantile profession, sent him to Holland at an early age, to qualify himself in various branches of commerce, that could ‘not be acquired in his native country. When he had remained in the Netherlands about three or four years, his father sent for him home, for the double purpose of settling him in marriage and in business. He dutifully obeyed his father’s letter as speedily as possible, and landed at the custom-house quay, at Cork, on a Sunday morning, at a time when the congregation were coming out of Christ-church. .Not having seen his native country for some years, he selected a post near the church, and where, placing himself against it in a pensive yet interesting posture, he beheld the various groups passing by, and gazed upon them all indifferent, till he saw one “whose fairy form was never to be forgot;” he, of course, followed her home, and determined it: was impossible to be happy with any other woman. The next morning he received the agreeable commands to prepare himself tovisit his intended bride; his feelings ‘we shall not attempt to describe; he gloomily obeyed; but what were his transports, his excess of joy; when; upon the introduction, he found her to be the very same young lady whom he beheld the morning before, and whom the every wish of his heart was to lead to the hymeneal altar. It is almost heedless to say they were married in a month, and the subject of the present memoir was the first eyes of that marriage. 

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Mr. Brown being intended by his parents for the church,} 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 Elphin, 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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into all parochial, matters at his visitations. He gave the example himself by constantly attending divine service twice a day, and. by preaching every Sunday evening at the several parish churches alternately. 
During 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 directions 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: but 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 commenced, 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, 

218 BROWN. 

he not only lost his curacy, but soon after his school; nor did we ever hear he was properly remunerated by the family for whom he risked and lost so much. 
In 1772 Dr. Brown was removed to Elphin, and in 1775 consecrated Archbishop of Tuam; previous to which period his wife died, and he entered into the connubial state a second time, at the steady age of seventy, choosing for his partner the widow of a Captain Barry, a lady possessed of an agreeable person, highly accomplished, 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 teo much reprobated) passed at the tea tables and other parties of the friends of both sides; amongst which the following bon mot was long recorded: 
The day after the ceremony, several of the bishops 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 ?”—” Oh! perfectly well,” replied the other; “for can assure you she had the full benefit of clergy!”— 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 eldest daughter married a dignified clergyman, and his youngest died unmarried.

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Dr. Brown’s first wife was a Miss Waterhouse, sister of the chancellor of the diocese, which office he afterwards conferred on his second son Thomas. His last wife’s maiden name was Swan, sister to Bellingham Swan, Esq. and afterwards married to Captain Barry, son of the celebrated Sir Edward Barry, who, beside being an eminent physician, wrote the celebrated treatise “‘On the Wines of the Antients.” 
The bishop’s country residence was Riverstown, a paternal estate near Cork, which he laid out with great elegance, and where he lived with much hospitality. His town residence, called “The Bishop’s Palace,” had little to value itself on as a building, besides its being roomy, and a good situation: the library is a pretty good one, and one of the rooms is ornamented with a series of all the portraits of the Bishops of Cork since the Reformation. 
Amongst these portraits, that of the celebrated Dr. William Lyon, promoted to this see by Queen Elizabeth in 1583, deserves particular notice, from the following short history of the original: . 
Lyon, though a man of tolerable education, had taken an early liking to the sea service, and by degrees rose to the command of a frigate, where he signalised himself so much under Sir Walter Raleigh, that Queen Elizabeth promised him the first place in her power. Soon after, the bishopric of Cork became vacant: and Lyon, relying on her promise, without finding in himself any disqualifications for the office, solicited her for the bishopric. The queen at first excused herself on account of the impropriety of the request; but Lyon pressing her on the words of her promise, which were without any exception, and which he relied on, the queen consented, and he was consecrated bishop of that see in the spring of 1583. 
He was bishop of this diocese near thirty-five years; and, during all that tine, behaved himself with great propriety as a clergyman; and, being a man of spirit, and much attached to the Reformation, was very serviceable in 

220 BROWN. 

the promotion and discipline of the protestant religion. He never brite Age to preach but once, and that was onthe 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 wanting 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 regularly 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 opportunity of providing handsomely for most of the branches of his family, and he was too good a christian “to neglect 

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his own household.” To his two sons he gave good livings, with church dignities. To his elder brother, 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 he had 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 stery had a visible effect even upon the pampered Levites around him. The bishop. heard him with particular attention, commended. his: conduct, and told him, he would take the first opportunity to remedy his situation; which he punctually performed, .as in less than three months he presented-him 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 hospitality, and dismissed them with little domestic presents. 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 

222 BROWNE. 
of punch, the first toast he drank after dinner, from a full bowl of this liquor, was “The Bishop of Cont and Ross, and God bless him!” 
Dr. Brown died at the advanced age of eighty and it was whispered, that some time prior to his, decease, 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 11th of January, 1709, and was consecrated on the 10th of April, 1710. He had no ecclesiastical preferments before his advancement to these sees, except a lectureship in St. Bridget’s parish, Dublin, while he 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 surrendered the same on the 9th of November, 1699 to the dean and chapter of Christ-church (who had the collation thereto) on his promotion to his provostship. 
He died at Cork on the 25th of August, 1735. “He was,” says Harris, “an 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 awful attention in his hearers of all sorts. He was eminent for his critical skill in the Greek and Hebrew, which enabled -him to explain the beauty, energy, and sublimity of the 

BROWNE. 223 

sacred writings to great advantage: and as he had formed himself upon: the best models of antiquity, he quickly introduced 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 contemptible 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 him preach or pray; his heart was full of it; and his whole air, manner, and tone of voice (whether 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 officiated: and more particularly the communion service was felt and confessed, by every man that heard it from his mouth, to be an heavenly composition. 
“His whole life was one uniform tenor of piety and true religion. He expended vast sums in charitable uses; but took particular pains to keep the knowledge of them private; even those who were relieved, knew not the hand from whence their assistance came. He made it a rule, never to trust any person to convey his charity a second time, who had once divulged what he desired. should be kept secret from all the world. 
“By his generous encouragement several churches were rebuilt and repaired, and a handsome public library, with a large room for a charity school, erected near his cathedral. Although those good works were not entirely done at his own expense; yet he was the most considerable contributor to them. And in such cases, his most intimate friends could seldom discover the amount of his disbursements. He expended upward of £2000 on a country house and improvements at Ballinaspack, or Bishopstown, near Cork; which he built for a summer retreat, and left 

224 BROWNE. 

to his successors free from any charge, as he did also 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 £3000 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 toa 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 controversial writings: 1. “A Refutation of ‘Toland’s Christianity, not mysterious.” This pamphlet was the foundation of his preferment, and it was the occasion of his saying 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 8vo. 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 likewise published a little volume in 12mo., against the ‘* Custom 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 III which greatly disgusted our worthy bishop, and is supposed to have 

BROWNE. 225 

given rise to the book in question. © His notion was, ‘that drinking 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 disagreeing with his constitution, he returned in about a twelvemonth 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 improvement of his knowledge in botany, ascience 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 formed an intimacy with Gronoyius and Muschenbroeck, and commenced a correspondence with Linnæus, and other eminent botanists and learned men. 
From Holland he proceeded to London, where he practised his profession near two years, and from thence went out again to the West Indies; and after spending some 
~months in Antigua, and some other of the sugar islands, 

226 BROWNE. 

he proceeded to Jamaica, where he occupied the greater part of his time in collecting and preserving curious specimens of the’ plants, birds, shells, &c. of those luxurious soils, with a view to the improvement and elucidation of its natural history. During the time he remained in Jamaica, his residence was chiefly at Kingston, and it was he who first pointed out the absurdity of continuing 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 council on the subject, they represented the matter so strikingly to Earl Granville, the then’ president of the council, that the immediate adoption of the measure ensued, and Kingston became the port of clearance to the great enlargement of commerce in general; as, prior to this arrangement, when vessels were clearing out of Kingston, and ready to weigh anchor, they were obliged to send near seven miles to Spanish Town, by which they often suffered ¢reat inconvenience and delay. At this time he also collected materials, 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, in August 1755, engraved by Dr. Bayly, on two sheets, and by which the Doctor cleared the sum of four hundred guineas. Soon after this (March 1756) he published his * Civil and Natural History of Jamaica,” in folio, ornamented with forty-nine engravings of natural history, a whole-sheet map of the island, and another of the harbour of Port Royal, Kingston Town, &c. Of this work there were but two hundred and fifty copies printed by subscription, -at the very low price of one guinea, but a few were sold at two guineas in sheets, by the printer. Unfortunately all the copper-plates, as well as the original drawings, were consuined by the great fire in Cornhill, on November 7, 1765. This disastrous circumstance prevented, in his life-time, a second edition of the work, for which he made 

BROWNE. 227 

considerable preparations by many additional plants, and several corrections in his different voyages to these islands; for altogether he visited the West Indies at six different periods, and resided upwards of a twelve-month at Antigua. Prior to his decease, he forwarded to Sir, Joseph Banks, P. R.S. “A Catalogue of the Plants growing in the Sugar Islands, &c. classed and described according to the Linnean system,” in 4to. containing about eighty pages. In Exshaw’s Gentleman’s and London Magazine, for June 1774, he published ‘ A Catalogue of the Birds of Ireland,” and in Exshaw’s Magazine of August following, “A Catalogue of the Fish of Ireland.” . 
 Dr. Browne long and regularly kept up.a correspondence with the celebrated Linnæus, which continued to his death, a correspondence which, for the sake-of science it would have been praiseworthy to have published, but unfortunately, though the Doctor was possessed of the epistles of Linnæus, by some unaccountable neglect he retained no copies of his own, 
In 1788. he prepared for the press'a very curious and useful Catalogue of the Plants of the North-West Counties of Ireland, classed with great care and accuracy, according to the Linnean system, and containing above seven hundred plants, mostly observed by himself, having trusted very few to the descriptions of others. This small tract written in Latin, but containing both the English and Irish names and descriptions, might be of considerable use in assisting to compile a “Flora Hibernia,” a work every botanist will allow to be much wanting. 
The Doctor was a tall, comely man, of good address, and gentle and unassuming manners, naturally cheerful, very temperate, and in general healthy; but in his latter years had violent periodical fits of the gout, by which he 
suffered greatly. In the intervals of these unwelcome visits he formed the Catalogue of Plants, and was always (when in health) employed in the study of natural history, or mathematics. He married at a very early period, in 

228 BUNWORTH. 

Antigua, a native of that island, but had no issue. His circumstances were moderate, but easy, and the poor found ample benefit from his liberality as well as professional 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 insita humiliter pro tum inter mortuos ehumerandum deprecetur præcis fidelium pro se illisque offerri; ut cum Domino Deo requiescant in pace. 
Amen.” 

CHARLES BUNWORTH 
Was a protestant clergyman, and rector of Buttivant, to the county of Cork for many years, and was greatly distinguished 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 examined before he entered Dublin college, and Mr. Bunworth was so much pleased with young Curran, that he gave him some pecuniary assistance. 

229 

WALTER HUSSEY BURGH Came into parliament under the auspices of James, Duke of Leinster, and immediately joined the opposition then formed against the administration of Lord Townshend. 
His speeches when he first entered the house of commons, were very brilliant, very figurative, and far more’ remarkable for that elegant poetic taste, which had highly distinguished 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 ingenuity, 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 office of prime serjeant 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 situation; 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 

230 BURGH. 

official emolument, to the duty which he owed to his country. That country he loved even to enthusiasm. He moved the question of a free trade for Ireland, as the only measure that could then rescue this kingdom from total decay. The resolution was concise, energetic, and successful. He supported Mr. Grattan in all the motions which finally laid prostrate the dominion of the British parliament over Ireland. When he did so, he was not unacquainted with the vindictive disposition of the English cabinet of that day, towards all who dared to maintain such propositions. One night, when he ‘sat down after a most able, arguinentative speech in favour of the just rights of Ireland, he turned to Mr. Grattan, “I have now,” said he, “nor do I repent it, sealed the door against my own preferment; and I have made the fortune of the man opposite to me,” naming a particular person who sat on the treasury bench. 
He loved fame, he enjoyed the blaze of his own reputation, and the most unclouded moments of his life were not those when his exertions at the bar, or in the house of commons, failed to receive their accustomed and ample tribute of admiration; that, indeed, but rarely happened; he felt it at particular moments, during his connection with the Buckinghamshire administration; nor did tie general applause which he received counterbalance his temporary chagrin. 
He died at atime of life when his faculties, always prompt and discriminating, approximated, as it should seem, to their fullest perfection. On the bench, where he sat more than one year, he had sometimes lost sight of that wise precept which Lord Bacon lays down for the conduct of a judge towards an advocate at the bar. “You should not affect the opinion of poignancy and expedition, by an impatient, and catching hearing of the counsellors at the bar*”’ He seemed to be sensible of his 

'* Lord Bacon’s speech to Judge Hutton, on being made a judge of the Common Pleas. 

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deviation from this; to be convinced that security in our own opinions, like too great security in any thing, ‘“‘is mortal’s chiefest enemy,” and that, in our daily, converse with the world, we meet with others who are far wiser than ourselves, even on those points where we fondly imagine our own wisdom to be the most authenticated. His honest desire not to feed contention, but bring it to as speedy a determination as could reasonably be wished, deserves great praise. 
“He did not,” says Mr. Flood, alluding to him in one of his speeches, “live to be ennobled, but he was ennobled by nature.” 

EDMUND BURKE. 
THE early history of this great man is unusually meagre; even the place of his birth has been disputed, According to some of his. biographers, he was born at Dublin; according to others, in a little town in the county of Cork. The date of his birth, however, is more certain—1st January, 1730. His father was an attorney of considerable practice; and, beside the results of his practice, had an estate of 150/. or 200/. a year.. He married into the ancient family of the Nagles. Edmund was his second son; and, at a very early age was sent to Balytore school, a seminary in the north of Ireland, well known for having ‘furnished the bar and the pulpit of that country with ‘many distinguished men—a fact the more worthy of note, because the school has, for near a century, been under the direction of Quakers, whose oratory is not generally esteemed the best model of imitation for young men of any profession, with the exception, perhaps, of those who are intended for certain walks of the drama. 
Here young Burke is said to have distinguished himself “‘ by an ardent attachment to study, a prompt command of words, and a good taste.” He proved the power of his memory by the facility with which he became a capper of verses, and the precocity of his invention by; 

239 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 gradual 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 will soon find that the springs of action are very different in the child and the adult. The child performs his task from love of imitation, hope of reward, and fear of punishment; as the intellect ‘strengthens, he begins 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 suggest this new birth as unfavourable to a very ardent affection 

7 BURKE. 933 for college exercises, because the natural and unavoidable distinction between man and man, will always tend to produce 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; the 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 counted ‘Johnson, Swift, Gibbon, Dryden, and even Milton himself, 
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 decide upon the merits of what he has done; and, therefore, feel no inclination to institute an inquiry into the possibility of his 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 Lucas the Reductio ad absurdum; he imitated his style 

234 BURKE. 

so exactly as to deceive the public; and pursued the principles of his opponent to consequences, which, in the opinion of his biographers, necessarily resulted from those principles, and: which rendered their falsity manifest. 
“Ireland,” says Dr. Bissett, “though often the mother; is seldom the nurse of genius.” She does not seem to have any exception in favour of Mr. Burke, or he certainly would never have deserted her for Scotland. We are told he became ambitious of the logical chair at Glasgow; but, whether the application came too late, or whether the university was unwilling to receive a stranger, certain it is, Burke was unsuccessful.. One account says, that he was passing the old college gate, when a label affixed to it, struck his eye, inviting all the candidates for the professorship to a competition, although it was known that a successor was already fixed upon. Burke was still young enough to be taken in by this form; although he had enjoyed the benefit of an academic education, and might have learnt, we think, to suspect the seeming fairness 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 unremitting diligence; but his exertions were not confined to the acquisition of knowledge, for, although, from the death of his elder brother, his. ultimate expectations were considerable, yet, as his father was still alive, and had other children, his allowance was small; and he found it necessary to supply the deficiency by his own exertions, and we are told, he became a frequent contributor to the periodical publications. His manners, at this period of his life, were engaging; his habits and conversation were long remembered at the Grecian coffeehouse (then the rendezvous of the templars), and they left a strong and favourable impression of his talents and morals. On the other hand, his detractors have ridiculed him for, passing his leisure with Mrs. Woffington the 

BURKE. 235 

actress; but it should be recollected that she was his country-woman, and that her society was no less courted by men of genius than by men of pleasure. 
Although he was professedly studying the law, he by no means confined himself to that science; there is reason to believe that he never made it even a principal object of attention. If we may trust his biographers, he ranged over the whole expanse of human knowledge; even when he narrowed the bounds of his excursions, they appear almost too wide to, be traversed by mortal energies. * “The studies to which he gave himself up with peculiar zeal (says Dr. Bissett), were those which unfolded human nature, history, ethics, politics pneumatology, poetry, and criticism.” 
The consequence of this application was a dangerous illness, and he resorted for medical advice to his country
-man, Dr. Nugent, a physician of great skill and equal benevolence. The Doctor, considering that chambers are much better adapted for producing patients than curing them (an opinion which we hold from experience to be among the soundest in the profession), kindly offered him apartments in his own house, where the attention of this benevolent man and his family, gradually, with or without the assistance of medicine, restored his patient’s health. Among the most attentive to young Burke, was the amiable daughter of his host. A warm and mutual attachment was formed between the convalescent and his gentle nurse, and soon after his recovery they were married. With Miss Nugent, Burke seems to have enjoyed uninterrupted happiness: “In all the anxious moments of my public life (he often said to his friends) every care vanishes when 1 enter my. own house.” 
In 1756 appeared the first of his productions which he has thought worthy of acknowledgment. It is a very happy imitation of Bolingbroke, entitled “A Vindication of Natural Society.” It was a bold attempt fora young man, only in his twenty-seventh year, to impose upon the 

236 BURKE. 

world the essays of his own inexperience for the productions 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 Bolingbroke, I know him by his cloven foot.” Itis also said that Warburton, and even Chesterfield, were at first deceived. 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 the evils which exist, are effects of the peculiar systems under which they exist. They deem it sufficient 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 elements, which he cannot do, unless by shewing how a different construction would have obviated the objection. 
In arapid and masterly sketch, Burke shews that political societies have seldom been employed but in injuring each 

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other,— that, if we may trust history, a hasty, partial enumeration of the numbers who have lost their lives in public wars, more than equals the whole existing population of the earth. Turning from the external to bie internal polity 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 communities and enacting laws, and that we should have rested satisfied with the simple relations of natural society. 
As must be expected, the picture is overcharged, and sometimes the portrait verges upon caricature; yet the author has shewn great art in avoiding almost all exaggerations but what naturally resulted from the nature of the attack. 
Soon after the “Vindication of Natural Society,” appeared the celebrated Essay on the “Sublime and Beautiful.”. 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 shewing 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 the life of Burke. He speedily became universally 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 acquaintance was immediately courted by the most distinguished literary characters. Mr. (afterwards Sir Joshua) Reynolds and Dr. Johnson were among the first who formed an intimate connection with him; and the latter in particular 

238 BURKE. 

was so charmed with the genius and knowledge which he exhibited, that, at a very early period of their acquaintance, it was observed by Murphy, that Johnson would from Burke bear contradiction, which he would tolerate in no other person. Goldsmith, Popham Beauclere, Sir John Hawkins, and many others equally distinguished for literature and classical acquirements, also became acquainted with him about this time; and of these was formed a literary club, which comprehended almost all the talent and genius of the day. But the principal and most immediate advantage derived by Burke from this publication, was a remittance of 100/. which his father, who was enraptured at perusing the spirited and elegant production of his son,. immediately forwarded to him; and which, with the sale of his book, relieved him from some very pressing pecuniary embarrassments. 
In 1758 he proposed to Dodsley the plan of an “Annual Register” of the civil, political, and literary transactions of the times; a work, which, if conducted on liberal and impartial principles, must be allowed to have been a great desideratum in. history. This proposal met with Dodsley’s approbation, and it was carried into effect; Burke himself superintending the publication, and contributing largely to its contents for many years. 
He had, at an early period of his life, been connected in intimate friendship with the Right Honourable William Gerard Hamilton, since known by the familiar appellation of “Single-Speech Hamilton;” a title which was founded on a general, though erroneous idea, that Mr. Hamilton had never delivered but one speech of any importance in the British senate; and that one so justly celebrated as to give rise to an opinion, which was strengthened by the intimacy of the parties, that it was composed for him by Mr. Burke. When Mr. Hamilton went over to Ireland as official secretary to Lord Halifax, then lord-lieutenant, he prevailed upon Burke to accompany him. . Shortly after his arrival there, Mr. Hamilton having made another 

BURKE. 239

excellent speech in the Irish House of Commons, and having procured for Burke a pension of £300 a year on the Irish establishment, it was considered by many as a recompence for his assistance in their composition. This, however, we have reason to believe was not the case; the talents of Hamilton were very great, and fully adequate to the production of the speeches referred to; and his future silence in the senate may be easily accounted for by the indolence of that gentleman, whose’ ample fortune afforded him the means of indulging in that dissipation to which he was so ardently attached. His biographer, however, in negativing the above report, does not furnish us with any clue to guide us out of the labyrinth; and we are still at a Ioss to ascertain to what peculiar circumstances Burke was indebted for this liberal and seasonable supply. That it was not altogether owing to an understood or avowed agreement, on the part of Burke, to support the measures of his friend by the powerful efforts of his genius, may be collected from the circumstance of his never having been known as the author of any political publications on that side during the short period of his stay in Ireland. He also retained the pension for some time after his return to England; and did not throw it up until he had declared himself an avowed adherent to the party in opposition 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 the facts related by Dr. Bissett. In a dispute which arose-on some political question, Hamilton is reported to have told Burke, “that he took him from a garret;” “Then, Sir, by your own confession, it was that descended to know you,” was the indignant reply. Bissett, however, states, that though no intimate connection subsisted between these gentlemen after Burke’s return from Ireland, yet that their friendship was never entirely dissolved, a circumstance which must have been unavoidable, had the above report 

240 BURKE. 

been true; and he alleges, in confirmation of this, the authority of a letter written by Burke to Hamilton, which he had seen, and in which the former gentleman expostulates 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 Advertiser, introduced him to the notice of Mr. Fitzherbert, through whose friendly medium he became known to the Marquis of Rockingham and Lord Verney. 
Now it was that Burke was destined to shine in his proper colours, as a distinguished orator and enlightened statesman. The administration, over which Mr. Grenville presided, having become unpopular to the nation and unpleasing 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 represent 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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anew course of study. For the, purpose of storing, his mind with facts, reasonings, imagery, and sentiments, he applied himself with unwearied diligence to the study of history; poetry, and philosophy. His. biographer, also assures us, that he at the same time dived deep into 4 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, precedents, &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 unembarrassed manner of communicating them to others. To obviate this difficulty, and accustom himself to bear 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. By 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 determining 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 succeeded 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 
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us no very great idea of the political efficiency of their authors. Their intention was to conciliate the Americans by a repeal of the stamp act; but at the same time to save the honour of the mother country, by pressing an act declaratory of the right of the British parliament to tax the colonies. With reference, however, to subjects of domestic policy, this administration acted with greater prudence and better success. The repeal of the cyder act, a law which invested with an unjust and almost arbitrary power, the officers of the excise, gave universal satisfaction. Resolutions were passed, declaring the illegality of general warrants and the seizure of papers, circumstances which had excited so much dissatisfaction in the affair of Wilkes; and many excellent commercial regulations were carried into effect. But the consequences which must result from their measures, with respect to America, were so evident, and perhaps too the secret influence which afterwards removed the Earl of Chatham, was so strong, that they were quickly dismissed from office to make room for a new administration under the auspices of Pitt; created for that purpose Earl of Chatham, and lord privy seal. 
In this brief sketch of the short-lived Rockingham administration we have scarcely mentioned Burke, as his public life was identified with the history of the party which he supported. On its dismissal, he published “A short Defence of the late short-lived Administration;” in which he advocated their measures with great plausibility, and in a style essentially different from that of any of his other productions. It bears the semblance of having been composed by a man of consummate plainness and simplicity, and was therefore more adapted for making converts than the most elaborate and highly-finished production, which would rather have been regarded with suspicion, as the pleadings of an ingenious and artful advocate. He soon after published an ironical answer to this defence, purporting to be written by a tallow-chandler and common council man, in which he attacks Lord Chatham and the 

‘ 

BURKE. 248 new ministry with great humour, mingled with the keenest irony. Whatever may have been the merits or demerits of the Rockingham ministry, they certainly deserve high commendations for the liberal manner in which they retired from their offices. Not one of them retained either place, pension, or reversion for themselves or their friends. A piece of disinterestedness which must have been severely felt by Burke, from the narrowness of his private fortune. 
In July 1766, Mr. Burke being once more free from all restraint, revisited his native land, endeared to him by long absence, 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 returned 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 head of the Rockingham party, in which, although supported by men of powerful talents, Dowdeswell, Counsellor Dunning, and Colonel Barre, Burke always claimed pre-eminence. His speeches shone with a. warmth of imagination united toa high degree of political knowledge, which the others could never attain. The opinion which’ Burke entertained of this ministry, which is commonly known by the Grafton administration, is thus humorously described by himself. After paying many merited eulogiums to the character of Lord Chatham, he claims the privilege of history to speak of the administration he had formed, and thus proceeds: ”He made an administration so checquered and speckled; he put together a piece of joining, so crossly indented and whimsically dove-tailed; a cabinet so variously inlaid; such a piece of diversified Mosaic; such a tessellated pavement without cement; here a bit of black stone, and there a bit of white; patriots and courtiers; king’s friends and republicans; Whigs and Tories; treacherous friends and open enemies; that it was indeed a very ‘curious show, but utterly unsafe to touch, and unsure to 

24.4. 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, 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 trucklebed.” ) 
An administration, composed of materials so discordant, could not long remain united. The ‘secret influence of the princess dowager was unceasingly employed in scattering 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 the 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 had 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. i 
On the resignation of Lord Chatham, the parliament was dissolved, and Burke was again returned for the borough 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 constitutional 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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acknowledged, ‘the resolution for inserting the name of Luttrell. 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 frequently been vattributed to Burke, but on very insufficient grounds: be declared to. Johnson that he was not the author of them; and the internal evidence of style, together 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 himself to.the many excellent speeches which he made in the house. . He drew up a. petition to the king, from the freeholders of Buckinghamshire . (at SSSR 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, Grenville, 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 support of the state. In his “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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Burke, “is satisfied to repeat gravely, as he has done a hundred times before, that the Americans are able to pay, but does he lay open any part of his plan how they may be compelled to pay it, without plunging ourselves into calamities which outweigh ten times the proposed benefit?” He attacks the Grenville administration with severity and justice, he defends that of Rockingham with ingenuity, and ridicules, with the most sarcastic remarks, the conduct of their successors. 
The effects of the new system of taxation on the imports of North America, which had been introduced at the recommendation of Mr. Charles Townsend, and which had principally occasioned the retirement of Chatham, now became obvious. The disturbances now assumed a more threatening aspect, and afforded Burke a capacious field for the display of those splendid talents with which he was endowed. For the purpose of intimidating the Americans, it was 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 unjust and so impolitic, met with the most strenuous opposition of Burke. This, however, was unavailing, and its immediate effects were such as he had predicted;—it exasperated the Americans, without causing the 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 great a ferment throughout the whole of England, as to cause the most insulting, and imperious remonstrances to be drawn up and presented to the king, particularly 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;” the principal object of which is, to recommend the formation of an open aristecracy, consisting of men of talents, rank, property, and independence. .Such an aristocracy, 

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he conceives, having a greater interest in the welfare of the country, will be more likely to promote it, than either the people themselves on the one hand, or the minions of a court on the other. This, in the opinion of Dr. Bissett, may be regarded as a land-mark of Burke’s own doctrines respecting the British government; and from this he conceives himself qualified to prove, that the sentiments avowed by him at this time, were those which he continued to act upon during the whole of his life. We, however, cannot implicitly subscribe to this doctrine; the design of the pamphlet in question is evidently to procure the re-establishment of the Rockingham party in power, and, viewed in that light, it is a most ingenious party performance. Asa general system of government it might perhaps be reckoned amongst the most visionary theories on that subject which have ever appeared; an aristocracy so formed, would quickly degenerate into an oligarchy, (indeed, in its best and most perfect form, it would be little 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 1770, and the promotion of Lord North toa 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 discontents and disturbances excited by the laws, enforced by: the late administration, were too evident not to be perceived, and too extensive not to be dreaded; yet the precipitation with which those measures had been enacted, left no medium for the minister to pursue. To remove at once the causes of discontent by repealing the obnoxious acts, was to acknowledge the incapacity of the British government to enforce obedience to them; and, on the other hand, to continue them, and to compel their execution, was to plunge the nation into an expensive and 

248 BURKE. 
destructive war. In these distressing circumstances, Lord North was anxious to attain a medium where none could exist; he proposed to repeal all the obnoxious laws of the preceding administration, with the exception of that 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 Mr. 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 tending 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 sanction your follies, is exposed to dishonour.” 
To account for this apparently extraordinary change of sentiment, Dr. Bissett observes with much metaphysical subtilty of reasoning, that “as Burke’s great genius was more 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 Bissett, reasoning for Burke, “have been very serviceable to Britain under the old system; do not therefore, let us rashly seek a new. 

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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 us substitute untried theories for a system experimentally ascertained to be useful.”! 
“Whatever opinion Burke,” said his old friend Gerard’ Hamilton, “from any motive, supports, so. ductile is his imagination, that he soon conceives it to be right.” Burke was more accustomed to philosophise on certain questions 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 Burke; which is the less surprising, when we remember that they were observed about the same time by aman 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 common 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 he concluded by recommending, that a grand alliance should be formed among all believers, *‘ against those ministers of rebellious darkness, who were 

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endeavouring to shake all the works of God, established in beauty and order.” In the course of the same session, on a motion by Sir Henry Houghton for the relief of dissenters, he expressed in strong terms, his opinion of the disqualifications under which they laboured, calling the toleration which they enjoyed by connivance, ‘ a temporary relaxation of slavery;” a sort of liberty “not calculated for the meridian of England.” 
On the dissolution of parliament in 1774, he was returned, through the influence of the Marquis of Rockingham, for the borough of Malton, in Yorkshire; but when on the point of sitting down to dinner with his friends in that town, after the election, a deputation of merchants arrived from Bristol to request him to stand for that city. By the advice of his constituents at Malton, he consented to accompany them, and throwing himself into a post-chaise, proceeded with all possible expedition to Bristol. A large body of the principal merchants of that city, consisting chiefly of dissenters, had beheld with admiration his splendid talents, and considering him a firm friend to the cause of civil and religious liberty, stood forward in his behalf. The old members for that city were already opposed by Mr. Cruger; and on Burke’s appearance on the hustings, which was not until the sixth day of the election, he delivered a most eloquent speech, in which, by his intimate acquaintance with the advantages and principles of commerce, and the local interests of Bristol, he produced so deep an impression on the minds of the electors, as to ensure his final success. He was returned for that city in conjunction with Mr. Cruger; a gentleman, who, it would seem, possessed no great share of that eloquence which so eminently distinguished his colleague. It is even reported, that after Burke. had delivered one of his best speeches, at Bristol, Cruger rose up, and exclaimed, “I say dilto to Mr. Burke—I say ditto to Mr. Burke,” 

The meeting of the new parliament ca high a greater 

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assemblage of talents than had perhaps ever appeared in any age or country. Fox had long been a member of the house of commons, but had never hitherto distinguished himself for oratorical abilities or political efficiency. Stimulated to exertion by the hitherto unrivalled eloquence and powers of Burke, he now commenced that glorious career in which he persevered until his decease; and Fox and Burke were not only regarded with admiration by the opposition, of which they were the undaunted champions and supporters, but were viewed by the minister and his adherents with mingled admiration and dread. The political connection now formed between these two great men soon led to an intimate friendship, which continued to unite them both in Pe and private life for many years. 
The mistaken measures of the administration had now driven the Americans to the necessity of taking up arms in 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; onthe 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 contest, Burke uniformly and ardently opposed the measures of Lord North, and defended and encouraged the Americans in the pursuit of those privileges for which they fought; a conduct which, notwithstanding the endeavours of his biographers to establish a thorough consistency throughout the whole of his political life, we can by no means reconcile with that which he afterwards pursued when France was engaged ina similar contest. In tke course of this war he delivered many brilliant speeches which are convincing evidences of the vast extent of his genius, and the great superiority of his eloquence. 
Doing the summer of 1776, Burke, together with several other leaders of opposition, took the extraordinary, 

252 BURKE. though not unprecedented step, of seceding from parliament, and retiring from the house, whenever any question relative to America was brought into discussion. We cannot conceive him justified in this conduct, notwithstanding the arguments adduced in his “Letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol;” and it was the opinion of the opposition 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 declared 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 constituents.. 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 deliared opinions, that, when he presented himself a second time as a candidate for Bristol, at the general election in 1780, he was compelled, after an unsuccessful canvass, to decline the contest; 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. 

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The first session of the new parliament, which was distinguished by the accession of Pitt and Sheridan to the opposition, presented a scene similar to that of many preceding years. The ministry, supported by their numbers, continued to resist with effect, the attacks of the opposition, which were energetic, and supported by a combination 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 Fox, for the house to resolye itself into a committee, to consider of the American war, was supported by Sheridan, 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, 1782, accusing Lord Sandwich, then at the head of the Admiralty, of gross mismanagement in the conduct of naval-affairs. The small majority by which this motion was negatived, encouraged them to proceed in their plan; and, several motions haying 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 spirits on the 15th 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 public affairs,’ was negatived only by a majority of nine. The minority followed their fortune, and, on the 21st of 

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the same month (the house being uncommonly crouded [sic passim] the Earl of Surrey (late Duke of Norfolk) rose to make his promised motion, when Lord North spoke to order, saying, “He meant no disrespect to the noble earl; but, as notice had been given, that the object of the intended motion was the removal of his majesty’s ministers, he meant to have acquainted the house that such a motion was unnecessary, as he could assure the house, on authority,—-that the present administration was no more! and that his majesty had come to a full determination of changing his ministers; and, for the purpose of giving the necessary time for new arrangements, he moved an adjournment,” which was instantly adopted. 
During this adjournment, a new administration was formed, under the auspices of the Marquis of Rockingham, on whose public principles and private virtues ‘the nation seemed to repose, after the violent struggle by which it had been agitated, with the securest and most implicit confidence. The Marquis of Rockingham was appointed first lord of the treasury, the Earl of Shelburne and Mr. Fox, joint-secretaries of state, Lord Camden president of the council, Duke of Grafton privy seal, Lord John Cavendish chancellor of the exchequer, and Mr. Burke paymaster-general of the forces. 
‘The new ministry, which stood pledged to the people for many reforms, begau 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 I rendered the parliament of Ireland independent of that of Great Britain. This was coupled with a resolution, “That 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 directions for promoting the same.” 
On the 5th banda Burke brought forward his great. 

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and favourite plan of retrenchment in the expenditure of the civil list, by which the annual savings (and which would be yearly increasing) would amount to 72,368/. It was objected by some members, that. the bill was not so extensive as it had been originally framed; but Mr. Burke entered into the grounds of those omissions, which had been made either from a compliance with the opinions of others, or from a fuller consideration of the particular cases; at the same time he pledged himself, that he should at all times be ready to obey their call, whenever it appeared to be the general opinion of the house and of the people, to prosecute a more complete system of reform. A bill was also passed, disqualifying revenue officers from voting in the elections for members of parlament; and several other popular propositions were made and adopted. 
The death of the Marquis of Rockingham, which took place on July 1, 1782, speedily dissolved the ministry, of which he alone formed the connecting link. It had been understood by Fox and Burke, that the Duke of Portland would have been nominated his successor. Great indeed was their disappointment when the Earl of Shelburne found means to procure the appointment for himself, when they considered him as having agreed that the Duke of Portland should be invested with the office, and that the plans of the Rockingham administration should be pursued. Fox and Burke immediately resigned. They not only differed with Shelburne in their opinion that the independence of America should be acknowledged; but, superior to the petty artifices of court intrigue, they viewed with contempt the mode by which their colleague had ascended to power. 
Once again in opposition, Fox and Burke joined their forces in the ensuing session to those of Lord North, and attacked the general peace which had been concluded during the recess, with great force of talent and eminent success. The combined parties procured a majority in 

256 BURKE. 

the house, 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 unpopular 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 apology, at least as far as Mr. Burke is concerned. It is well known to those in the least conversant in the polities 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 was 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, perhaps 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 compass, 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 cons 

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stitutional rights of this country. As a minister, therefore, he reprobated his conduct; but the American 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 man, who (benefiting himself by his former i ale might still render important services to his country.” 
Such a defence as this may very well be admitted in favour of Mr. Burke and others; but Mr. Fox stood pledged upon different grounds. He not only inveighed against the minister 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 declaration 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 toremove. In the mean time, however, the new administration bade fair for permanence. It was strong in talents, in rank, and in the weight of Janded interest. It seemed nearly such a combination of great families as Mr. Burke had wished in his “Thoughts on the Causes of the present Discontents;” but it wanted what was necessary to complete his pian,—”the approbation and confidence of the people.” Suspicion 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 render the administration too strong for the crown. Had these 
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258 BURKE. 

objections been confined to the ex-ministers and their friends, the coalesced ministers might have repelled them, at least by force of numbers; but it was peculiarly unfortunate for Mr. Burke, Mr. Fox, and the Whig part of the administration, that they were opposed without doors by the voice of the people, and in the writings of all those authors who had the credit of being constitutional authorities. 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 majority 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 majesty 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 certainly 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 he will be found one of the greatest ornaments of the age he lived in. 
A committee of the house of commons. had been appointed 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, 

BURKE, 259 

committed under the semblance of justice, united in the person of the governor-general. In the beginning of July 1784, he made a speech on the enormities he ascribed to Hastings; and displayed, in the picture he drew, powers which might have composed a most admirable tragedy. He brought forward a string of resolutions, as the foundation of an inquiry into the eonduct of Mr. Hastings. This, was briefly opposed by Pitt, because there was not at that time that undoubted evidence of delinquency . which alone could evince the propriety of the motion. Burke’s fancy and passions getting mach warmer from opposition, pictured to him Hastings 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 have rendered him indifferent to such a disturbance, instead 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 comprehension. 
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 ina 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 session, 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 

260 BURKE. 

charges against Hastings. It will be sufficient to observe, that the variety and extent of Burke’s powers were perhaps 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 and 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 kingdom, 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 respecting that department of government. His. eloquence, though it did not prove the points he wished to establish concerning Hastings, and was in that view a waste of genius, yet contains facts, imagery, sentiments, and philosophy, 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 consequence 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 from whatever cause it did arise, it 

* Amongst numerous virulent attacks, through the medium of the public press, may be recorded the following vitriolic epigram, which the editor was assured by a lady of veracity, came from the pen of Mrs. John — Ireland: 
I’ve often wonder’d that on Irish ground 
‘ No venomous reptile ever could be found; But Nature, willing to perform her work, Saved all her venom to complete a BURKE. 

BURKE. 261 

is certain that Burke indulged in the coarsest personal observations on Mr. Hastings, and in many violent exaggerations 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 commanded him to kneel, with a ferocity in his countenance which no painting could express. 
In the debates which took place, during his majesty’s illness in 1788-9, 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 existing laws. Fox, on the other side, contended, that during this incapacity, there was virtually 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 occasioned a feeling in the house more 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 consistent in his public character, ‘appears to have been desirous to cast a veil over this part of his history.. Yet, 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 to avoid noticing it. And when we consider, that this violence of temper and passion were exercised on the 

262 BURKE. 

illustrious personage to whom, in a very few years, he was gratefully to acknowledge his obligation for the independence and comfort of his latter days, we cannot be surprised that those who intend an uniform and unqualified panegyric on 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 arms of those whom he had uniformly and vehemently opposed. The revolution which was taking place in France was hailed by Fox as the dawn of returning liberty and justice, while Burke regarded it as the meteoric glare of anarchy and ruin. In a debate on the army estimates for 1790, adverting to the revolution in France, Fox considered 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 to assume, would, he was persuaded, make her a better neighbour, and less propense tohostility, than when she was subject to the cabal and intrigues of ambitious and interested statesmen.” . 
Burke soon after delivered his sentiments on the subject. 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 ensue from the late proceedings in France. Warming, as he advanced in the argument, he observed, “In the last age 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 

BURKE. 263° 

and reasonings of Burke on this subject, with much force. He thought them quite inconsistent with the general principles and conduct of one who so highly valued the British government and revolution: “The National Assembly,” he said, “had exerted a firmness and perseverance, hitherto unexampled, that had secured the liberty of France, and vindicated the cause of mankind. What action of theirs authorised the appellation of a bloody, ferocious, and tyrannical democracy?” Burke, perceiving Sheridan’s view of affairs 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 sacrificed my friendship in exchange for the applause of clubs 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 the French Revolution,” in a more enlarged form, and more closely to contemplate its probable influence on British minds. ‘To account for his apparent change of opinion on the subject of civil liberty, he informs us in his Reflections, that he was endeavouring to * preserve consistency by varying his means to secure the unity of his end; and when the equipoise of the vessel in which he sails, may be in danger of overloading upon one side, is desirous of carrying the small eae of his reasons to that which may preserve the equipoise.”, 
In the session of 1790, he adhered uniformly to the sentiments which he had avowed in his discussions with Fox and Sheridan, identifying the whole body of the dissenters with Drs. Priestley and Price, and therefore looking upon them as the friends of the French revolution and the propagators of its principles in this country. He opposed a motion for the repeal of the test act, a measure which he had, at a former period, strenuously advocated, 

264 BURKE. 

He also opposed a motion for reform in parliament. At this time Mr. Fox and he still continued in terms of friendship, though they did not frequently meet; but when, in 1791, a bill was proposed for the formation of a constitution 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 besides, 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 his 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; our friendship is at an end.” Mr. Fox was very greatly agitated by this renunciation of friendship, 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 he now reprobated, at the same time enforcing the allega



BURKE. 265 

tion, by references to measures which Burke had either proposed or promoted, and by many apposite quotations from his speeches. This repetition of the charge of inconsistency prevented the impression which his affectionate and conciliating language and behaviour might otherwise have made on Burke, “It would be. difficult,” says Dr. Bisset, “to determine with certainty whether. constitutional irritability or public principle was the chief cause of Burke’s sacrifice of that friendship which he had so Jong 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 observation of Fox, on the “Reflections,” that they were rather 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 asa 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 his subsequent publications. 
Some days after this discussion, the following paragraph appeared in the Morning Chronicle: ‘“The great and firm body of the Whigs of England have decided on the dispute between Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke; and the former is declared to have maintained the pure doctrines by which they are bound together, and upon which they have invariably acted. The consequence is, that Mr. Burke retires from. parliament.” After this consignation to retirement, Mr. Burke no longer took any prominent part:in the proceedings 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 summer of 1794, he soon after resigned his seat, and retired to his 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 

266 BURKE. 

also lost his brother Richard; but 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 civil list, and two other pensions of 2500/. for three lives, payable out of the four and a half per cent. These gifts were represented as a reward for having changed his principles, and deserted his friends, and drew down some severe censures from Lord Lauderdale 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 he had been engaged. Not content, however, with vindicating his own claim toa pension, he gives a retrospective view of the means by which the Duke of Bedford’s ancestors 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 censure passed by that nobleman, on what he regarded as a squandering of the public money. 
When the appearance of melioration in the principles and government of France, induced his majesty to make overtures for peace to the French Directory, Burke resumed his pen, and, in his “Thoughts on the Prospect of a Regicide Peace,” expressed himself strongly against the safety of such a measure. ‘This was his last work, and in point of style and reasoning, not inferior to any he had produced on the subject of the French character and government.: 
From the beginning of June 1797, his health rapidly declined; but his understanding exerted itself with undiminished force, and uncontracted range. On 7th July, he spent the morning in a recapitulation of the most important actions of his life, the circumstances in which he acted, and the motives by which he was prompted. Dvwel

BURKE. 267 

ling particularly on the French revolution, and on the separation from admired friends, he spoke with pleasure of the conscious rectitude of his intentions; and entreated that, if any unguarded asperity of his had offended them, to believe that no offence was intended. On the following day, while one of his friends, with the assistance of his servants, was carrying him into another room, he faintly uttered “‘ God bless you!” fell back, and ner xh in the sixty-eighth year of his age. 
In this sketch of the life of Edmund Burke, it has wdc impossible to insert even the titles of his numerous publications. They have been since published entire by his executors Drs. King and Lawrence, in five vols. 4to. and twelve vols. 8vo. and will ever form a stupendous monument of his great and unrivalled talents. By. the political student, however, they will require to be read with a considerable portion of that judgment which, in the author, was frequently paralysed by the rapidity of his ideas, and the bewitching seductions of his imagination. 
In-his person, Burke was about five feet ten inches high, erect, and well formed; with a countenance rather soft and open, which, except by an occasional bend of his brow, caused by his being near-sighted, indicated none of those great traits of mind which he possessed. The best print of him is from a half-length by Sir Joshua Reynolds, painted when he was in the meridian of life. 
An opinion has been very prevalent, that Sir Iwi Reynolds’ lectures were written by Burke,—but whoever will compare these discourses with the Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, will find their theories of beauty to have been by no means the same. According to Burke, comparative smallness, smoothness, variety in the direction of their parts, freedom from angularity in their parts, delicacy of construction, clearness and brightness, colour without-glare,—these are.the constituents of beauty. 
In this enumeration, Burke has omitted one great constituent of beauty, infinitely more important than all he 

268 BURKE. 
has laid down—this principle Reynolds has supplied. It must have occurred to the readers of the Sublime and Beautiful, that the elements of Burke are not sufficiently defined to deserve the name of principles. Such phrases as “delicacy of construction,” ‘“clearness and brightness of colour without glare,” “variety 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 constituents should be found, and which would at the same time produce no effect of beauty in the mind of the beholder. At. might also be said that beautiful objects may be 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, and dipping their leaves in the stream, the broad water-plants fioating 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 direction of its parts?” Would Burke have bent the “angles” of the larch fir, into curves; or would he have thought he had improved the beauty of the oak, by remodelling its form to correspond with the delicate construction of the acacia? 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 reference 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 beautiful 

BURKE. 269 

which approaches nearest to what we may be allowed to call the average form of the species to which it belongs. 
“It may be objected,” says he, “that in every particular species there are various central forms, which are separate and distinct from each other, and yet are undeniably 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. 
“Tt id true, indeed, that these iiss are each perfect in their kind, though of different characters and proportions; but still none of them is the representation of an individual, 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 peculiarities. But 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 notin 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 deficient.” 
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 

970 BURKE. 

in the thirteen 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; but we have evidence which will go near to prove it false, and shew, that soon after the publication 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 maintained with even more ability than in his lectures, and some passages 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 gradation 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 contradicting himself, and find at last, that the great mother nature will not be subjected to such narrow rules.” (vol. ii. page 239.) 
If to this internal evidence we add the external proof furnished by Mr. Burke’s unequivocal disavowal, and Malone’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 mankind has received, we are all interested in shewing, that whatever it may want in substance, it shall, at least be rendered as certain as the imperfect state of human discrimination will admit. 

271 

RICHARD BURKE. 
Of this gentleman whose powers of pleasing in private life, were no less distinguished than those of his celebrated brother Edmund, we regret that we have been able to obtain but few pavticulars. His fame rests principally on his wit, which peculiarly excelled in repartees, delivered with a humorous quaintness, that gave additional poignancy to the sentiment, and many of which have been frequently retailed as proceeding 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 Goldsmith, as a just punishment for the jests he had broken on others. He was at different times collector of Grenada, and recorder of Bristol, which last office he retained till his death, which happened February 5,1794. He had supped with his brother Edmund, and another relation, in Duke Street, St. James’s, on the preceding evening, and appeared in excellent health and spirits; at twelve o’clock he was carried home in a coach to his chambers in Lincoln’s 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 understanding, though far inferior to the transcendant [sic] powers of that of his brother, was highly respectable and fraught 

272 BURKE. 

with various and 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. a 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 lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at;
Alas! that such frolic should now be so quiet! 
What spirits were his! what wit, and what whim! 
Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb! 
Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball! 
Now teazing and vexing, yet laughing at all! 
In short, so provoking a devil was Dick, 
‘That we wished him full 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 death 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 engagements, and closed his naval career on the memorable 21st of October, 1805, when he had the honour to support his much-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 he, “I expect 

BURROWES. 273 

to see every man in his station, and if we succeed to-day, you and I will go to sea no more.” . He died at Wouldham, near Rochester, in January 1816, at the advanced age of seventy-six. ‘There is a good likeness of him to be found in West’s picture of the death of Nelson. 
The unfortunate, but gallant Captain Burke, of the Seagull, with a younger brother (both of whom foundered in that ship) were his sons; and also Lieut. Burke, of the Mars, who was mortally wounded in cutting out La Chevrette, and succeeded by boarding her after receiving his mortal wound, 

JOHN BURNS 
Was born in the town of Monaghan, about the commencement of the last century. He was deaf and dumb from his birth, but discovering a strong natural capacity, was taught to read and write, and speedily acquired a considerable knowledge of arithmetic, geography, history, and chronology. In the humblest circumstances, he commenced life as a pedlar, with a few shillings, which he improved into a considerable sum, and became a shopkeeper. He was, however, unfortunate; he became a ‘bankrupt, and was cast into prison. From hence he was liberated, 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 Remembrancer,” which was published by subscription in Dublin, by William Watson, in 1775. It contains five hundred pages of curious matter, and appears a surprising intellectual effort of a man born with his infirmities. 

ALEXANDER SAUNDERSON BURROWES 
Was a brave naval officer, who fell gloriously in the arms of victory. He was the third son of Alexander Burrowes, 

274 BUTLER. 

Esq. of the county of Cavan, and had been but a few months promoted to the command of “The Constance,” a frigate of twenty-two guns. He was also made commodore of a small flying squadron, under Sir James Saumarez, on the Jersey station, for the purpose of scouring the Channel in that quarter. The squadron consisted of the Constance (flag-ship), the Strenuous, Sharpshooter, Sheldrake, and one or two other light vessels. On the 12th October, 1806, they weighed from their anchorage at Chaney, and on standing in to reconnoitre St. Maloes, a sail was discovered off Cape Frihol, to which the squadron gave chace [sic]; it was soon discovered by her manoeuvres the chase 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 by a strong battery of guns on the hill, as well as field-pieces and musquetry employed by the troops brought down for that purpose. After a desperate and sanguinary conflict, in which Captain Burrowes was slain by a grape-shot in the heat 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 he was engaged. He was in his thirty-ninth year, twenty-five of which had been devoted to the service of his. country. His merit was his only recommendation, and had his life been longer spared, he would probably have ranked among the most splendid warriors of the British navy. 

JAMES BUTLER
THE FOURTH EARL OF ORMONDE, was equally distinguished 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 his return into Ireland, he accompanied the lord deputy Scrope in his invasion of the territory of M’Murrough, 

BUTLER. 275 

when that numerous and powerful sept were completely routed, and O’Nolan, with his son, and many others, made prisoners. During this excursion, on the receipt of -intelligence that Walter de Burge, and OfCarroll had ravaged the county of Kilkenny, they marched with such expedition to Callan that they surprised the rebels, and completely defeated them with the slaughter of eight hundred men. At the termination .of this successful campaign, in 1407; he returned to Dublin; when he was appointed lord deputy of Ireland, although he was yet a minor; and a parliament which he held there confirmed 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 Plantagenet, the unfortunate Duke of Clarence, who was born in Dublin. In 1412 he accompanied Thomas of Lancaster into France, in which year Henry V. mounting the throne, he was received with great favour by him; and returned to Ireland in 1419, with the appointment of lord-lieutenant from that victorious monarch, by virtue of a more ample commission than had been granted to any of his predecessors. He shortly after convened a parliament, which granted a large supply to the king, and conferred on himself a pecuniary recompence for his activity and zeal for the public benefit. He now attacked O’Reilly, and compelled him to sue for peace; and turning his arms against M’Murrough, who at that time made all Leinster tremble, completely reduced his formidable power. These signal successes rendered him equally dreaded and hated by the natives, and in 1421 a dreadful slaughter was committed 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 Leys, compelled the aggressors to sue for peace, and to make ample compensation for the damages they had committed. On the decease of Henry V in 1422, his lordship was 

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continued in the government until the arrival of Edmond Mortimer, Earl of March, who, in 1424, 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 archbishopric of Cashel. In 1444 he assembled at Drogheda many of the privy council and nobility of the Pale, and informed them, that having filled the office of chief governor, for upwards of three years, the king had 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, requesting a safe conduct for him, and representing that there was an extensive confederacy to destroy his loyal subjects, 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 had Jost many of his old castles for want 

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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 following 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, influenced by the above testimonial, put a stop to proceedings; and examining the cause himself, was so fully convinced 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; that no one should dare, on pain of his. indignation, 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 he undertook an expedition against Connor O’Mulrian; on his return from which, on 23rd August, he died at Ardee, and was buried in St. Mary’s Abbey, near Dublin. He was celebrated as a great lover of antiquities, 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 England, by the title of Ireland king of arms. He also gave lands to the College of Heralds, for which, till the Reformation, he was prayed for in all their public meetings; and has since been constantly remembered. as a special. benefactor. 

278 

RICHARD BUTLER
THIRD VISCOUNT MOUNTGARRET, a nobleman of eminent virtues, and celebrated in the history of Ireland for his conduct in the rebellion of 1641, was the eldest son of Edmond, the second Viscount Mountgarret. He married Margaret, the daughter of Hugh O’Neal, Earl of Tyrone, in whose rebellion he engaged in 1599, and defended the castles of Ballyraggett and Cullihill, at the head of his own dependants, with great bravery and skill. 
He was afterwards reconciled to the government, and succeeded to his paternal estates on the decease of his father in 1605, 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 commission with the Earl of Ormonde in the government of the county of Kilkenny; which afterwards, on the advancement 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 determination 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 destructive 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 Kilkenny, who were readily induced by his persuasions to join him in his endeavours. Attended by a numerous train he advanced to the city of Kilkenny, which he took possession of, and issued a proclamation, strictly enjoining all his followers, neither to pillage nor hurt the English inhabitants, 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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and resolved to control the exercise of their almost ungovernable passion for revenge on their persecutors. His humanity prompted him to preserve the protestants, and alleviate their distresses; while he was. continually harassed 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, requesting him to punish Philip Purcell, Esq. his son-inlaw, for relieving the protestants; and on a subsequent occasion, a petition from the titular bishop of Cashel, Six Turlogh O’Neile and others, requesting that the English protestants of Kilkenny should be put to death, was thwarted solely. by the persuasions and power of Lord Mountgarret, his son Edmond, and his son-in-law, Purcell. His popularity at this time was so great, that within a week from his arrival at Kilkenny, almost all the towns and forts in the counties of Kilkenny, Waterford, and Tipperary, were in the possession of his friends. He was now chosen 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 the county of Cork insisting upon appointing a general in their own province, he conceived this resolution was aimed principally at himself, and retired with his forces into Leinster; where he met the Earl of Ormonde with a powerful army, and gave him battle at Kilrush, in the county of Kildare, on 10th April, 1642. In this battle he, was completely defeated; which compelled him to retire with the remains of his scattered forces to Kilkenny, where he was elected president of the supreme council which was formed there in 1642. Inthe following year he 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 the war, and was particularly distinguished by his great moderation and care of the protestants, who found in him a steady and powerful protector from the misguided zeal of some of his associates. He 

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died in 1653, and was buried in the chancel of St. Canice church. 
Various as the dispositions of men, and the accidents of their fortunes, are the motives which induce them to engage in those great political convulsions, which form the terror of the age in which they exist, and constitute the most prominent features in the history of nations. Actuated by personal motives, revenge, or ambition, many are induced to take up arms; while others are influenced by political or religious bigotry; and some few, more enlightened, 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 its commands, he became, what was termed, a rebel, from principle: but, in his anxiety to alleviate the distresses of his country, he refrained from adding 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, 
EARL of OSSORY, is a name that fills an important space in the list of those, who, in different ages, have 

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embraced the profession of arms, with every difficulty 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 just applause of their countrymen, and the enrolling their names on the banners of fame. He was 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 montis, 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 22nd of June in the same year, he was called, by writ, to the house of lords in Ireland, and on the 16th of August, 1665, he was appointed 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 1666, he paid a visit to the Earl of Arlington, at Euston, in Suffolk. The long engagement between the Duke of Albemarle and the Dutch, commenced on the morning of the Ist 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 himself as a 

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volunteer. ' He was fortunate enough to reach the fleet on the evening of the second, and was a welcome guest, as he carried information 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 August) 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 resignation. He had 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 prohibiting the importation of Irish cattle, that none were against it but such as had Irish estates or Irish understandings. Lord Butler challenged him, and they were to have met the next day, in 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 he not fortunately kept out of the way. The next morning his grace complained to the house of lords, of a breach of 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 house of lords to make his defence, which, however, did not prevent his being sent to the Tower; and the Duke of Buckingham was committed to the custody of the usher of the black rod, but in two days they were both released. 
In October 1670, he was sent to Holland, to bring oyer the Prince of Orange. At the close of the same year, perceiving the Duke of Buckingham standing by the king, he went boldly up to him, and spoke as follows: 

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“My Lord 
I know well that you are at the bottom of this attempt of Blood’s upon my father, and if he comes to a violent, end, by any means, I shall consider you as the assassin, and shall pistol you, though you stood behind the king’s chair, and I´ll tell it you in his majesty’s presence, that you may be sure I shall keep my word.” 
In 1672 he had the command of the Resolution, a third-rate man of war, and was second in command of the small squadron under Sir Robert Holmes, which attacked the Dutch Smyrna fleet, in the month of March in that year., On this occasion 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 Southwold 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 accompanied him through all his dangers, when deserted by the French, and attacked by the united squadrons 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 1673, he was promoted to the rank of rear-admiral of the blue 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 he entertained of the many signal services performed by the earl on many occasions, as well in his 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 28th of May and the 4th of June. Having hoisted his flag on board the St. Michael, he was very soon afterwards promoted to be vice-admiral of the red; and it was to the galJantry of the Earl of Ossory, that the “Royal Prince” was 

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indebted for her preservation, after she was so completely disabled, so as to compel Sir Edward Spragge, whose flag 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 nobleman 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 opposition 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 his 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 

* “The great aim of the Dutch admiral was to sink or take the Royal Prince, but the Earl of Ossory and Sir John Kepthorne, together with Spragge himself, so effectually protected the disabled vessel, that none of the enemy’s fire-ships could come near her, though this was often attempted.” 
CAMPBELL. 

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commencement of the year 1678, he took upon himself the command of the British subjects in the pay of the States, and at the close of the war was continued in his command with extraordinary marks of honour from the States-general. {n the progress of the campaign that followed, he greatly distinguished himself, especially at the battle of Mons, fought on the 3rd of August, wherein he commanded the English troops, and by his skill and courage, contributed so much to the retreat Marshal Luxemburg was obliged to make, that the States of Holland, the governor of the Low Countries, and even his catholic majesty himself thought fit, in a letter under his hand, to. acknowledge the great services he performed in that action*. 
He returned to England on 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 they rendered him both honoured and esteemed when living, caused him, when dead, to be both pitied and lamented, 
Nor 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 Ormonde, possessed. so much vigour of language, and was so energetically delivered, that it even confounded that 
* Extract of a letter from St. Denis, dated August 15, N. S. 
“The Earl of Ossory, with the regiments of the king of England’s subjects under his command, was engaged in the attack on the side of Castleham, in which, as well the officers as common soldiers, in emulation of his lordship’s example, who always charged with them, behaved themselves with the greatest courage and bravery.” 
Ina letter from the Hague, written on the same occasion, is the following expression, “The Earl of Ossory and his troops did wonders.” 

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intrepid orator, and was so universally admired, that it was transmitted to Holland, and there translated into Dutch, upon which the Prince of Orange, as a mark of his high esteem for the Earl of Ossory, wrote his lordship-a commendatory letter. 
His generosity was like his talents—almost fabless but 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 six regiments, he evinced his disinterestedness in preferring 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 considerable perquisite, his lordship liberally’ gave him the deficiency from his own purse. 
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 ef his majesty’s forces in Ireland, lord chamberlain to the queen, one of the lords of his majesty’s most honourable privy council in the kingdoms of England and. Ireland, one of the lords of his majesty’s bed-chamber, and Laie of the most noble order of the garter. 

:: JAMES BUTLER, 

Duke or Ormonpe. This illustrious soldier, who united distinguished bravery with consummate skill, was descended from the renowned family of Ormonde; in which talent seemed as hereditary as titles and estates. He was born in the castle of Dublin, on the 29th 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 Giket church college, Oxford, where he continued until the 

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death of his father. At the age of seventeen he married the daughter of Lord Hyde, afterwards Earl of Rochester: In 1684 he was present at the siege of Luxemburgh, which commenced on the 28th of April; and was terminated, by the surrender of the town, on the 7th of June following. The ‘year following death deprived him of his lady. Shortly after which he was appointed lord. of the bed-chamber; and served “in the tented field” against the Duke of Monmouth in the west. A treaty of marriage, which had formerly been entered upon, was now revived and happily concluded, between him and Lady Mary Somerset, daughter to the Duke of Beaufort. 
On the 28th of November, 1688, he was elected a knight companion of the garter, and was installed on the 5th of April following, in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, by the Duke of Grafton and the Earl of Rochester. About the same period he was elected chancellor 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, he attended King James to Salisbury, near which place he had fixed the rendezvous of his army; but, on the king’s return, he joined the Prince of Orange at Sherbourne Castle, and entered Salisbury with him. From which city the Duke of Ormonde, with a party of the prince’s troops, went to Oxford, and caused his 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 bed-chamber, and attended King William to Ireland. He was present at the battle of the Boyne; after which he was sent with nine troops of horse to preserve the tranquillity of Dublin. Thither he was followed 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 

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the castle belonging to his grace, which the Count Lauzun 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 1691. He attended his majesty to Holland; and, at the Hague, where there was 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 Barfleur, and at La Hogue. 
A better fortune, however, attended the French arms in Flanders, in 1693, at the battle of Landen; where Luxemburgh, by a skilful manoeuvre, forced the camp of King William, a position esteemed inaccessible. His majesty, during the whole of the day, behaved with uncommon gallantry, charging the enemy several times 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 impending 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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confined in the town, a considerable sum of money. He was shortly after exchanged for the Duke of Berwick, who ‘was taken prisoner by Brigadier Churchill. 
In 1694, Charles Butler, Esq. his grace’s brother, was. created a baron of England, and Earl of Arran in Ireland. 
On the 3rd of April, 1695, he embarked at Gravesend with the king; and was at the taking of Namure, where he commanded the second troop of guards, and providentially escaped unwounded, he being often exposed to the destructive fire of the besieged, and many being killed around him. 
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 him as chancellor, and, after the usual ceremonies had been gone through of presenting his majesty with a large English Bible, a Common Prayer Book, the plates of the university, and a pair of gold fringed gloves, a sumptuous entertainment, and a choice concert of music was provided to regale his majesty, as they expected he would do the university the honour to dine with them. But Boyer relates, that the Duke of Ormonde having communicated 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, his 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 his 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 curiosity, having before seen the university.” 
King William died on the 8th of March, 1702; and was succeeded by Queen Anne, who, shortly after her accession, 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 had been concerted to besiege 
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Cadiz by sea and land. This plan was now put in. execution; 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 troops 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. Afterwards 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 19th 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 thanksgiving 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 Ireland, 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 

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of all parties, he returned to England in March 1704; but went back again to Ireland on the 15th of November following. 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, 1711, his grace was once more made lord-lieutenant of Ireland; and landed at Dunlany on the 3rd of July following, and proceeded to Dublin, where he was received with unbounded acclamations. 
The Duke of Marlborough’s conduct having displeased the queen, her majesty removed him from all his employments, 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 Albemarle, and Prince Eugene of Savoy. On the 23rd, 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 offensively 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, arid the deputies of the states attending the army, to desire a conference with them the next day; wherein he acquainted them, that 

292 BUTLER. 

he had received orders from her majesty to publish, within three days, a suspension of arms for two months, between his army and the French, and to send a detachment to take possession of Dunkirk, which place the King of France would put into the hands of the English, as a security for the performance of his promises. He likewise proposed, that the like 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 off with the British troops; of which the — allies soon felt the fatal effects. Their army, commanded by the Earl of Albemarle, being completely routed by Marshal Villars; and other advantages obtained by the enemy. ? 
On the 25th of June, the duke sent a trumpet to Marshal Villars, to acquaint him that he had received a copy 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 21tst 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 Ist of November; and waited on the queen, at Windsor, on the 4th, and was most 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 new secretary of state (having before his arrival removed Lord Bolingbroke) to inform his grace that he had no longer occasion for his services, but would be glad to see him at court. His grace was also left out of the new privy council; but named for that 

BUTLER. 293 

of Ireland. The party, which had lately been kept under, having now, in a great measure, engrossed the king, to whom they had long before his accession made their court, 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 in upon their possession of the royal favour; in consequence of which the duke was impeached of high treason by Mr. secretary Stanhope. Several spoke in behalf of his grace, among whom was Sir Joseph Jekyll. The duke, however, ‘did not think it advisable to attempt weathering a storm which he saw levelled all before it, but withdrew privately from his house at Richmond to France; prior to which, by authentic acts, he resigned the chancellorship of Oxford and the high-stewardship of Westminster; to both which dignities his brother, the Earl of Arran, was elected. 
His grace has been censured for thus quitting England; but he knew too well who were his persecutors. He was thoroughly acquainted both with their principles and views; and was too wise’ to trust his head, not to their mercy, but to their disposal. As soon as it was publicly known that the duke had withdrawn himself, on the 5th of August, articles of impeachment were read against him in the house of commons; and, shortly after, a bill was brought in to summon him to surrender by the 10th of September; and on default thereof to attaint him of high treason; which passed both houses, and received the royal assent. ‘The Duke, having neglected to obey this summons, the house of lords ordered the earl marshal to erase his name out of the list of peers. His arms also were erased; and his achievements, as knight of the garter, were taken down from St. George’s chapel at Windsor. The commons of Ireland also brought in a bill to attaint him; and offered a reward of 10,000/. for his head. Inventories were taken of all 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 

294 BUTLER. 

for subsistence. He was not long in France, (where lie had taken the title and name of Colonel Comerford,) 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. body of troops destined’ to make a descent upon England; but this information 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 benevolence and hospitality. He had divine service performed in his house twice every Sunday, and on every Wednesday 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 had 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.
in 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, concluded 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 Jerusalem chamber, and soon after interred in the vault of his ancestors in King Henry VIL.’s chapel, the bishop of Rochester, attended by a full choir, performing the ceremony. 

BUTTS. 295 

Thus died, in his eighty-first year, a brave soldier, and prudent general, whose reward for et 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 uncontradictable 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 forgotten. 

JOHN BUTTS 
Was. a native of Cork, and painted figures and landscapes. 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 employed . for several seasons. As scene-painter to Crow Street theatre, when that establishment was under the management of Spranger Barry. His distresses at times were so numerous, that he was compelled to paint signs, and coach panels for the present wants of a numerous family. 
* Floyd’s Bibliotheca Biographica, a well written work in 3 vols, 8vo. published in the year 1760. † Philip Fitzgibbon, an eminent mathematician. [This last note has no connecting reference on the page.]

206 

CHARLES BYRNE 
W as a man, whose powers ever might be truly termed great, and at times striking. He was exactly eight feet high, and after his decease, which occurred on the ‘1st of June, 1783, he measured eight feet four inches. fig! 
His death is said to have been precipitated by excessive drinking, to which he was always addicted, but more particularly since his loss of all his property, which he had invested in a single bank ‘note of 700/.: 
In his last moments (it has been said) he requested that his ponderous remains might be thrown into the sea, in order that his bones might be placed far out of the reach of the chirurgical 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 questioned, as it is well known at the time of Byrne’s decease he excited a great deal of public curiosity, and somebody is suspected of having invented the above, to amuse themselves, and the world at large. 
The following story has been related of many tall men, but it certainly originated in the individual now before us; Being necessarily obliged to walk out very early in the morning, or not at all, he used to startle the watchmen, who at that hour were parading the streets, by taking off the tops of the lamps, and lighting his pipe at the flame within. 

CHARLES BYRNE 
Was an excellent miniature painter, and born in Dublin, in which city he died about the year 1810. He practised during a short time in London.—With a superior understanding and much benevolence of heart, he mingled a dash of eccentricity, which not unfrequently drew on him the animadversion of his friends, who mistook that for 

BYRNE. 297 

caprice which was unhappily a constitutional infirmity, and which settled a short time before his death into confirmed insanity.—And many, who as friends or employers have been gratified while sitting ¢o him, or. with him, by his animated flow of conversation, and evident excellence of feeling, may perhaps feel pleased should. this slight tribute to his memory happen to meet their observation,.

 Miss ——BYRNE. 
Was a protoype of her illustrious countrywoman, Constantia Grierson, as in the dead languages we are told “she was critically correct,” and was equally well grounded in the modern. Her attainments were not solely literary; the minor, (though perhaps to many) the more interesting and attractive accomplishments of music and its sister arts were her’s [sic] in perfection. She was possessed of a considerable fortune, but. she viewed riches as the means of doing good to others, and her conspicuous superiority to the generality of her sex, was obscured by her excessive diffidence and unconsciousness. She was likewise eminently conspicuous in the exercise of every christian virtue. 
She was the eldest daughter of the late Robert Byrne, Esq. of Cabinteely, and died at the premature age of nineteen, in 1814, at the island of Madeira, whither she had repaired for the benefit of her health. 
“When age, all patient, and without regret, 
Lies down in peace, and pays the general debt, 
’Tis weakness most unmanly to deplore 
The death of those who relish life no more: 
But when fair youth, that every promise gave, 
Sheds her sweet blossom in the lasting grave, 
All eyes o’erflow with many a streaming tear, 
And each sad bosom heaves the sigh sincere.” 

208 CURRAN. 

JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN. 
THIS high-gifted individual, whose genius, 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 from 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 scion from a northern English family, — named CURWEEN; 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 bumble 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 farm, were his only resources for the maintenance of a growing family. The maiden-name of his wife was Philpot. 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 education 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 distinguished her favourite boy. Though young Curran from the first dawn of intellect in his puerile days, gave 

CURRAN. 299 

eminent proofs that the seeds of wit and talents were hot sparingly sown’ in his composition, the humble circumstances of his parents afforded no prospect of an education to bring out the native lustre 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 father’s office. Such might have been the fate of Curran, were he placed in any soil less congenial to the growth of his young intellect, or any guidance less favourable than that of a mother, whose native capacity was his best! inheritance; whose culture “taught his young ideas how to shoot,” and whom he loved and venerated to the latest hour of his existence. 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 superiority 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, and pursue the bent of his humour in every 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 unfavourably to the future fortunes of young Pickle, 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, however, occurred in the amusements of the village, in which young Curran made his début as a principal actor with much éclat 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-

300 CURRAN. 

thenes urges as the first, second, and third essential to the success of an orator,—namely, action. The itinerant exhibitor of a street puppet-show, in the course of his tour, arrived at New-Market, much to the edification and amusement of the staring crowd; and the comic feats of Mr. Panch, 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 establishment was threatened with ruin. But little Philpot, who was a constant member of the auditory, and eagerly imbibed at eyes and ears the whole exhibition, proposed himself to the manager, as a volunteer substitute for Punch’s man. This offer from so young and promising an amateur, was gladly accepted by the manager, who was well aware of the 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 perfectly 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; immense crowds attended every performance; the new actor was universally admired, and the crouded audiences were astonished at the knowledge he displayed. He developed the village politics, pourtrayed [sic] all characters, described the fairs, blabbed the wake secrets, caricatured the spectators, disclosed every private amour, detailed all the scandal of the village, and attacked with humorous ridicule even the sacerdotal dignity of the parish priest. But this was the signal for general outcry; satire had transgressed its due limits; and men and maidens who laughed at their neighbour’s pictures, and pretended to recognise their own, were horrified at such profane familiarity with the clergy. Religion, as on larger theatres, was the scapegoat, and sentence of punishment was unanimously passed on Mr. Punch and his man; the manager, however, kept the grand secret, and his prudence prevented any inquiry after such dangerous celebrity, and Curran, who was 

CURRAN. 301 

through life in his convivial hours, the soul of mirth, frequently declared that he never produced such an effect upon 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 incident in his own words: ‘ I was at this time a little tagged 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 knows where it would have ended; but, as my. poor mother said, ‘ I was born 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 appearance 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 waggery, thinking and saying every thing eccentric, and by no means a miser of my flashes. Every one was welcome to share them, and had plenty to spare after freighting the company. Some sweet-cakes easily bribed me home with him; he seemed delighted with the casual acquirement of such 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 advancement, to which I am indebted for all my better fortune in life,” 

302 CURRAN. 

At this school young Curran became the class-fellow of some young tyros, 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 Curran’s 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 eloquence. ) 
The wakes, that is to say, the assemblages of the neighbours 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 characteristic 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, two and sometimes four female bards attend on those mourntul 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 affecting. ‘They string together, in rude extempore verse, the 

s 

CURRAN. 303. 

genealogy and, family history, and. they recount, all the ‘exploits, the virtues, and even the very dresses, conversations, and endearing. manners of the deceased. . To those ~ who understand these funereal songs, for they are chaunted in Irish, the sceneis 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 adjacent 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 fantastical freedom in the rustic melo-drame; the contrasted scenes succeed each other as quick as thought; there is a melancholy 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; refreshments 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 

304 CURRAN. 

by an impervious croud, horse and foot, sometimes to the number of several thousands, especially if the deceased be a person in ordinary respect or esteem with his neighbours. The bards before-mentioned form the procession, and, at intervals, renew the hymn of grief, which is chorussed by the whole croud, with shouts of “Ululo,” that rend the skies. 
Scenes of this sort were peculiarly germaine to the eccentric taste of young Curran; his whole mind and heart entered into the spirit of them; he saw in them all the varieties of whim, and humour, and passion in the national character, and here he felt the first impulse of those transports which seized on his imagination, and induced him to cultivate the pursuit of eloquence. 
While he attended the wake of a wealthy person, who, by his last will, had distributed amongst his favourite kindred, his fortune and effects, the legatees were conspicuous in their sorrows, and lavish in their praises to his merits; they measured their eulogies by his bounties, and their funeral orations kept pace with the value of his bequests: but the last who came forward on this occasion was a woman of portly stature and elegant shape; her long black hair flowed loosely down her shoulders; her dark eyes teemed with expression, and her whole manner was sedate, but austere and majestic. She had married without the consent of the deceased, who was her uncle; she had been his favourite niece, but she had followed the impulse of love in the choice of a husband: she was now a widow with many children: her offended kinsman carried his resentment to the grave, and left her poor and unprovided. She had sat long in silence; and at length rose, and with slow and measured pace approached her dead uncle. She calmly laid her hand upon his forehead, and paused; whilst all present expected a passionate display of her anger and disappointment, she addressed herself to the dead in these few words;” 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 

CURRAN. 305 

‘under the weight of obligations. They have been benefited, they have in their different degrees partaken that bounty which he could no longer withhold. During his life, he forgot 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 impiety tear from him. Cold in death is this 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 T 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 his veins, I shall not have his memory scored or tortured by the expression of my disappointment, or of the desolation which now sweeps through my heart. It therefore best becomes me to say, that his 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 now swell my eyes, I cannot check, but they rise like bubbles in the mountain stream, and burst, to appear no more.” 
Such was the pathetic oration from which Mr. Curran acknowledged 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 VALLANCEY deserves credit) had not yet vanished. Those who relish the language of Ossian, can form some judgment of the style and idiom common in the dialect of the Munster peasantry.

306 CURRAN. 

The learned tell us, that all the seeds of genuine eloquence are most vigorous amongst savage nations, and that the vigorous mind, crampt by the paucity of a limited language, finds vent for its feelings in figures and epithets infinitely more forcible and expressive than the copious dialects of polished nations can furnish. But with the peasantry of Ireland, where their native language is fluently spoken, and particularly in Munster, the extreme copiousness of their mother tongue has by no means diluted the strength of expression; for when once their passions are roused or interested, their whole dialect becomes a torrent of thoughts “that flow, and words that burn,” accompanied by the most forcible expression of the countenance, and action of the whole frame: all the wild flowers of rhetoric, unformed indeed by the hand of criticism, seem wholly at the speaker’s command; and whether joy or grief, love or hatred, rage or kindness, pity or revenge be the predominant passion of the moment, all the faculties of mind and body are in unison to give it the most natural and strenuous expression. 
Every thing marks the strength of mind and depth of feeling, and the wildest language of hyperbole seems scarcely adequate to vent the labouring 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 reconeilement; vengeful to oppression, faithful and affectionate to lenity and justice. In their 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 civilized country, are perfectly inconceivable to the majority of the people of England, who are, perhaps, better acquainted with the state of their fellow subjects in Canada or China-Tartary, than of those in the Irish branch of the United Kingdom. 

CURRAN. 307 

-It is therefore not so miraculous if a mind like Curran’s, drinking from such a fountain, and nurtured amid such intercourse, should be readily susceptible of the polishing influence of classic literature, of which he was a master. A thousand gems of the same water are still to be found in the same mine, did they meet with the same skill to bring out their lustre. 
From the school at Middleton, young Curran was transplanted to Trinity College, where he entered asa sizar on the 16th of June, 1767, under the tutorage of the learned Doctor Dobbyn, and obtained the second place on his entrance: but two years elapsed before he acquired his scholarship of the house, but this not owing to dullness or idleness, but by the number of senior candidates for the vacancies which occurred in the time. His cotemporaries at college recollect nothing extraordinary to distinguish his progress there; he was never eminent for his apparent application to his studies, nor ambitious to obtain scholastic degrees; but many causes may have existed to curb his ambition. His mind naturally resentful of indignity, and prone to eccentricity, was ill caiculated to brook the frowns and insults of wealthier students, for whose society neither his purse nor his apparel qualified him as a competitor in expense or finery. His finances were extremely confined, and from boyhood to old age, he was neyer an eminent votary of dress or fashion: indeed, his ambition seemed to point the other way; the jewel, and not the casket, was the object of his attention, and while the former dazzled by its lustre, the rusticity of his exterior seemed as a foil to the intellectual splendour it veiled: ~ 
“As streams that run o’er golden mines, 
With modest murmur glide, 
Nor seem to know the wealth that shines 
Within their gentle tide, 
O veil’d beneath a simple guise,, 
Thy radiant genius shone,
And that which charm’d all other eyes, . 
Seem’d worthless in thy own,” 
 ——Moore, 

But however unambitious of collegiate distinctions, he 

308 CURRAN. 

accumulated without labour, and apparently 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 course, he proceeded to London, and entered himself of the Middle Temple. Here he ate his commons through the stated number of terms, to qualify him for the Irish bar, and it is generally believed, he sustained his 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 the spring and summer assizes, laid the foundation of his professional fortunes on the Munster circuit. Here too he 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 trayelling 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 metropolis 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 connections indispensable to success; but vivacious spirits and an elastic mind bore him above the torrent he had to buffet, and enabled him to stem the billows of adversity. ' Passing rapidly over a series of melancholy reflections, arising from a conjugal alliance commenced under embarrassments, (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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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 frequently resorted to both in England 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 produced 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 personal chastisement, was compelled to adopt another expedient, 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 outraged humanity. 
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 junior barrister that Mr. Curran had to contend in his early career; perhaps it is not, even in that liberal protession, that a young man of humble origin and obscure connections, but superior talents and rising fame has to expect the /east display of enmity from senior competitors, more fortunate in their alliances, wealth, and veteran standing; there are certain invidious propensities in our frail 

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nature, which even the gravity of a silk gown and a serjeant’s coif cannot always conceal: but when such a feeling betrays itself on the bench, it merits a much harsher hame than mere illiberality. 
There was an Honourable Judge Robinson at this time on the Irish bench, as remarkable for the peevishness of his temper as the pitifulness of his person, who had more than once elicited sparks of just resentment from gentlemen of the bar, that might have taught him better caution. Current rumours stated that this learned judge attained his promotion to the judgment seat, not by his eminent virtues or his legal learning, but his literary services in the publication of some political pamphlets, remarkable only for their senseless, slavish, and venomous scurrility. This goodly sage, at a time when Mr. Curran was struggling — with adversity, and straining every nerve in one of his’ early forensic pursuits, made an unfeeling effort to extinguish him. Mr. Curran, in combating some opinion, urged by the opposite counsel, said, that he had consulted all his law books, and could not find a single case to esta blish the opinion contended for; ‘' L suspect, Sir,” said the heartless judge with a sneer, “that your law library is rather contracted.” Such a remark from the bench, applied to a young man of ordinary pretensions would have infallibly crushed him. But Mr. Curran, whose practical motto was “‘nemo me impune lacessit,” rose from the pressure of this stroke with increased elasticity. For a moment he eyed the judge with a pause of contemptuous silence, and then replied, —”It is true, my lord, that lam poor; and that circumstance has rather curtailed my library; but, if my books are not numerous, they are select; and, I hope, have been perused with proper dispositions; I have prepared myself for this high profession, rather by the study of a few good books, than the composition of many bad ones. I am not ashamed of my poverty, but should of my wealth, could I stoop to acquire it by servility and corruption. If L rise not to rank, I shall at least be honest; and should I ever cease to be so, many examples shew me, 

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that an ill-acquired elevation, by rendering me more conspicuous, would only make me the more universally and more notoriously contemptible.” This appears to have been the last occasion, on which the learned judge ventured a bile at the same file. 
Perhaps no man ever possessed powers of invective and exasperation, more virulent than those of Mr. Curran. Early in his professional career, he was employed at Cork, to prosecute an officer, named Sellinger, for assaulting a catholic clergyman. Sellinger, justly or otherwise, was suspected by Mr. Curran to be a mere political creature of Lord Doneraile, and to have acted in mere subserviency to the religious prejudices of his patron. On this theme he expatiated with such bitterness and effect, that Sellinger sent hima message the next day. They met; Mr. Curran received, but did not return his fire; and thus the affair ended. “It was not necessary,” said Curran some time afterwards to a friend, “for me to fire at him; he died in three weeks after the duel, of the report of his own pistol.” 
Mr. Curran might now be considered as prosperously established at the bar, rising to the very summit of his profession, and daily employed in those forensic exertions which so eminently contributed to his fortune as a lawyer, and his fame as an orator; but, notwithstanding the extensiveness of his professional pursuits, he could find time to enjoy the convivial society of a few select friends. This society was entitled, the Monks of the Screw, and did not, as a vulgar biographer of Mr. Curran has ignorantly stated, consist of shabby barristers and ale-bibbers, but of men of the first character, wit, and talents the country could boast; men as eminent for the polish of their manners, as for their learning and genius. Amongst these were the late Lord Charlemont, Mr. Flood, Mr. Grattan, Mr. Bowes Daly, Mr. George Ogle, Mr. Keller, Messrs. Day, Chamberlaine, and Metge, since judges; Barry Yelverton (afterwards Lord Avonmore), the celebrated Dr. O’Leary, and a host of such characters were amongst its members. They met every Saturday during the law terms, in a large 

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house of their 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 sinall statue of their patron saint was removed to Mr. Curran’s 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 fellowstudents, 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. But 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 diligenee at college, pushed his 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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the title of Avonmore, as was: said, in consideration of his 
support to the measure of union, in direct opposition to the principles of his whole life, and to the sentiments of all his friends and admirers at the bar, to whom that medsure has never ceased tobe peculiarly obnoxious. About this time an unfortunate division separated the friendship between 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 memorable 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:: 
“‘T 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. 1 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 I 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 practice of their most illustrious examples; by dwelling on the sweet soul’d piety of Cimon; on the anticipated christianity 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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for a moment: that his hesitation was like the passing cloud that floats across the morning sun, and hides it from the view; and does so, for a moment, hide it by involving the spectator without even approaching the face of the luminary: And this soothing hope draw from the dearest and tenderest recollections of my life, from the remembrance of those Attie nights and those reflections of the gods which we have spent with those admired and respected and beloved 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 forget them; I see their sacred forms 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 communicated the pure and generous purpose,—when my slenderer and younger taper imbibed its borrowed light from the more matured and redundant fountain of yours. Yes, my lord, we can remember those nights without any other regret than that they can never more return, for 

“We spent them not in toys, or lust, or wine; But search of deep philosophy, Wit, eloquence and poesy, Arts, which I lov’d, for they, my friend, 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 tipstaff informed Mr. Curran, he was wanted immediately in the chamber by one of the judges of the exchequer. He obeyed the mandate; 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 his bosom, and from that moment all cause of difference was obliterated, 

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We now go back to the year 1783, in the administration of Lord Northington, when Mr. Curran first took his seat in Parliament for the borough of Kilbeggan, having for his colleague, the celebrated Henry Flood, with whom he joined the opposition of the day. A circumstance attending his election was highly honourable to Mr. Curran. Lord Longueville who was proprietor of the borough, and a wholesale dealer in the ¢rade of parliament, was eager to attach to his force so desirable a recruit as Mr. Curran, and he returned him for a seat, under the idea that a young barrister with a growing family, and totally dependant on his profession for subsistence, would 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, he not only voted against his patron, but by a most energetic speech, proved the total fallacy of all his expectations. Lord Longueville, of course warmly remonstrated; but what was his astonishment to find Mr. Curran, not only persevering in the independence of his opinions, but even devoting the only £500. he had in the world, to the purchase of a seat which he insisted on transferring as an equivalent for that of Kilbeggan. During the whole of Mr. Curran’s parliamentary life, it was his fortune to be. joined in the ranks of opposition, in which he acted with many of the most eminent patriots, orators, and statesmen his country could boast in any age, and he ever proved himself a steady adherent to the cause of his country, and worthy the attachment and confidence of his friends. Itis not our purpose in this sketch, to attempt lengthened details of his eloquence in the senate, where he has so often shone with refulgent splendour, and where not only the force of his arguments, but the lightnings of his wit, and the shafts of his invective were deeply felt on that side of the house to which he was opposed. He had, however, the mortification to see several of his friends from time to time, lured by the sweets of office, relinquishing their old colleagues and the public cause, to join the ranks of the 

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minister. Mr, Curran always adhered to the same politics which distinguished the political lives of the Ponsonby’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, circumstances 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 courts for the entire day: of course he brought to the house of commons 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 preparing 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 discussion, 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 finest 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 indiscriminately 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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government of the country employed two reporters with liberal salaries and lucrative patronage, to take care of the speeches of the ministerial members. Two newspapers with large allowances were entirely devoted to the purpose, and many or most of the speakers from the treasury benches, anxious to display their talents and utility, generally 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 hands 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,” but as competent to the task as any of those employed for the like purpose in London, where sx or eight are sometimes 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 their 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 orations; for the reporter in the law courts and in the house of commons was one and the same, and included both duties under the one miserable stipend. Shorthand 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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similitude, particularly those uttered on the State Trials; and he himself could never be prevailed on to revise or retouch the transcript of a single oration. Had Cicero, or Burke, been thus negligent of their facundiary fame, we should not, at this day, possess in print the splendid monuments of their eloquence that challenge our admiration: but, of the genuine eloquence of Curran, as of the exquisite sculptures of ancient Greece and Rome, we are left to form our conception from 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 Herculem. But, if such be the detached members, what must 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 abundant. 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; and 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 objects 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 his satire, or were scorching by the lightnings of his 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) connected 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 the loaves and fishes, that influence was greatly strengthened by their omnipotent patronage and control over the 

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revenue system, with the business of elections, which enabled them, in all emergencies, to march a whole army of excisemen, tax-gatherers, distillers, brewers, and publicans, into the field; all of whom had either votes in corporations, or were forty-shilling freeholders in three or four counties; and, if on any occasion, the success of the court candidate was doubtful, a batch of those forty-shilling voters were manufactured for the occasion, and the same identical acre was sometimes transferred in succession from one to twenty tenants, with an increasing profit-rent of forty-shillings a year to each. On one particular occasion, when popular interest ran high on the approach of a general election, Mr. Beresford was obliged to brigade the custom-house officers from the metropolis, and every out-port in the kingdom, all of whom being previously organised as quorum voters for several counties, were actually marched by squads, and travelled through every district within the circuit of their respective cantonments, to turn the scale at every election they could reach against the popular candidate. 
On the meeting of the new parliament Mr. Curran laid hold of this circumstance, which he handled with infinite humour: ”What, Mr. Speaker, said he, ‘ must be the alarm and consternation of the whole country, when they saw these hordes of custom-house Tartars traversing every district, devouring like locusts the provisions, and overwhelming the franchises of the people? These jiscal comedians travelled in carts and waggons from town to town, county to county, and election to election, to fill this house, not with the representatives of the people, but of the great Cham who commands them. Methinks I see a whole caravan of those strolling constituents, trundling 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 fellow, are you going with those raggamuffins? I suppose they are convicts on their way to the kid-ship for transportation to Botany Bay.’ ‘Oh! no,’ answers the driver, 

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‘they are only a few cartloads of the raw materials for manufacturing members of parliament, on their way to the next election.’ ”: 
Even Mr, Beresford himself, and his whole corps’ of commissioners, 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 commons house, his ranks were filled in general by a miserable set of supporters, 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 debate, and serving, like Falstaff’s soldiers, as “mere food 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) without feelings of unaffected pity for him, in the duties he has to perform in his arduous situation. When I behold an English secretary, day after day, marching down to this house from the castle, like a petty German clock-maker, with his wooden time-pieces 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 carriedin 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 representative body, and the elevation of apostacy in proportion to its excess, he compared the unblushing supporters of the minister’s influence, to “Drowned bodies, which 

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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’ “mummies 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 his most ludicrous and effective strokes in this: way was played off upon a gentleman of the bar, named Duquery, who had a seat in parliament. He was a gentleman of distinguished talents and worth, who had long been the zealous supporter of Mr. Curran 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 gentleman was prevailed on to accept a serjeantry-at-law, as a step 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 disappoint 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 blushing 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 

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recruit, and was glad to find him already promoted to the honour of a halberd; he had no doubt that the young serjeant would prove a valuable acquisition to the regiment, although he had cut rather an aukward [sic] figure upon the first night’s drill. The manoeuvres and discipline. of his squad might be a little irksome, because so. different from that of the corps he had lately quitted, and in which he had served so long with credit as an expert soldier; but he might improve in time, and entitle himself to higher pay and promotion. At present, the worthy serjeant’s situation 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, including the squire, the attorney, the apothecary, the exciseman, and the church-warden of the village, with their ladies, attended the performance. The 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, on 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: the 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 he warn her of what the neighbours 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 vanished; he could neither talk, 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 tried the other, with the 

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sum effect; she chucked him under the chin, but his jaw fell again on his breast: and, in short, the lively, facetious, and diverting Mr: Punch, became as dull, and dumb, as any of the right honourable 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, quite disappointed, she requested the squire to return him to his former quarters, with a handsome present to the manager, who soon restored Mr. Punch to all his former rich and he fein as Brent a sci da with the town as ever.” ~ This ‘speech; so appositely applied to the learned serjeant, 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. Curran’s speech upon the pension bill, on the 135th of March, 1786, 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 lady who ‘humbleth 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 earned 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 ruling 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. In fine, it teaches a lesson which indeed they might have learned from Epictetus—that it is sometimes good not to 

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be. over-virtuous: 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 members of this house—give me leave to say, that the crown, in extending its charity, its liberality, its profusion, is laying a foundation for the independence of parliament; for hereafter, instead of orators or patriots accounting for their conduct to such mean and unworthy persons as freeholders, 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 prosperous state—suppose they should: fall into the hands of men who would wish to drive a profitable commerce, by having members of parliament to hire or let; in such a case a secretary would find great difficulty if the proprietors of members should enter into a combination 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 bitted, and he has got a pretty stud, perhaps 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 occasion, though those latter might create a little confusion, if they were to 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, pedibus ire in sententid.—This improvement might be extend

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ed; he might have them dressed in coats and shirts all of one colour, and of a Sunday he might march them to church two by two, 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 together in a large hall. Good heaven! what a sight to see them feeding in public 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 patience; 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 viceroyalty, Mr. Fitzgibbon, the attorney-general (afterwards lord chancellor Clare) issued an attachment against the high sheriff of the county of Dublin (a Mr. O’Reilly), 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, whose professional as well as political character was deeply involved, 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, ought rather to envy than blame his tranquillity; I 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 

326 CURRAN. 

any, that rest ought not) to be lavished on the guilty spirit.” 
When he had concluded his speech, the attorney-general, having replied to his arguments, concluded by desiring that “no puny babbler should attempt, with vile, unfounded calumny to blast the venerable character of the judges of the land.” 
Mr. Curran immediately rose, and retorted — The gentleman 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 am not accustomed to panegyrise myself. I do not well know how. to do so, but since I cannot tell the house what I am, I will tell them what I am not: —I am not a young man whose respect in person and character depends upon the importance of his office;— I am, nota man who thrusts himself into the foreground of a picture which ought to be occupied by a better figure;—I am not a man who replies by invective, when sinking under the weight of argument;—I am nota man who denied the necessity of parliamentary reform, at the time he proved the expediency of it by reviling his own constituents, the parish clerk, the sexton, and the grave-digger (Mr. F. was member for a rotten borough); and if there be any man here who can apply what Iam not to himself, leave him to think of it in the committee, and contemplate it when he goes home.” ‘The consequence of this altercation was'a message from Mr. Fitzgibbon... The parties met, and exchanged shots. without. injury; and thus the affair ended, without apology or explanation. 
He once had an affair with his friend Mr. Egan; but neither were hurt. 
Now that we are on the subject of duels, Mr. Curran long subsequent to this incident, was involved in another duel, perhaps not so creditable to his spirit. .. A gentleman, who held a place in the customs, was one of the parliamentary reporters employed at the charge of government, 

wu 

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to attend the house of commons, and detail the debates there, with due attention to the ministerial speakers, whose speeches were either very partially given, or wholly suppressed, in the popular prints of the day. To this gentleman, who-was certainly a man of very competent ability, and: who was sitting in the gallery one night, Mr. Curran, 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 privilege to calla member to account out of doors for words uttered in parliament. The next day, however, this gentleman saw Mr. Curran in the street, in company with his friend Mr. Egan, and shook his walking-stick at him across the way. Mr. Curran, perhaps, thinking it beneath his dignity to notice the person from whom this affront. proceeded, took another course, which he probably thought more honourable, and which was to send his friend Mr, Egan, with a message to the chief secretary, Major Hobart (the late Earl of Buckinghamshire) demanding this alternative—either, that he should immediately dismiss the offender from his place in the customs, or meet Mr. Curran in the field. Major Hobart, with great calmness, answered that he had nothing 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 certainly could not think of dismissing him for the) private cause stated. -Mr. Egan then mentioned the other alternative: to which Major Hobart replied, that it was somewhat singular he should be called on thus by a gentleman with whom he had 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, Mr. Curran called on his antagonist: to fire first. Major 

328 CURRAN

 Hobart declined, saying he came there to give, and not to take, satisfaction. Mr. Curran then fired, without effect, and again called on Major Hobart, who had reserved his 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? Which 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. Gutatds by no means terminated in the affair of their duel. Parliamentary discussion frequently brought them into contact. Both were men of first-rate talents, equally prone to irritation 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 disdainful; and apt to mark, by his manner, a feeling of conscious superiority towards those he considered his inferiors in connection, rank, and authority. Mr. Curran 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 opportunity of marking his peculiar hostility to Mr. Curran, infinitely more illustrative of an implacable spirit, than of a mind fitted to the high station to which his’ political stars had destined him. ail short, the old chancellor, Lord Lifford, died about the time of his majesty’s first mental malady, and the Jong and ardent services of Mr. Fitzgibbon against the opposition phalanx in parliament, and against every symptom of popular spirit out of it, crowned 

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by his marked opposition to the regency question, under 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 conscientia. 
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 had been by far the most lucrative branch of his practice. For this-misfortune there was no practical remedy,; 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. Without 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, 

330 CURRAN. 

which became afterwards his associate on the bench; 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 fondling his dog, to which he paid much more attention than to the learned advocate. This gross indecency was observed by) the whole bar. 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 /ords,” answered Curran, “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 conjoined in this allusion, that his lordship, with marked chagrin, thought fit to dismiss his shaggy vice-chancellor, 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 advocate. 
But although Mr. Curran was 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 higher 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 common-council elected a popular alderman, named Harrison, but the board of aldermen ‘refused their sanction to this choice, and elected a worshipful brother, of quite opposite principles, named. James, as the chief magistrate next in rotation, but whom the commons on their part rejected. By certain rules long established by the privy council, under the authority of an act of parliament, no man could be lord mayor unless first approved by the viceroy in council; and those rules directed, that in case of such dis-

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putes as this, the lord-lieutenant and privy council for the time being, should be the umpires. Appeal was accordingly made to them, by; petitions from both bodies. A day for hearing was appointed,—the privy council assembled,—Lord Westmorland, then viceroy, presided at the board.—Lord Clare was also present——Mr. Ponsonby and Mr. Curran attended as counsel for the commons in support of Alderman Harrison. The council was extremely full, and the council-chamber thronged with respectable citizens. When.it came to Mr. Curran’s turn to address the board, he did so in perhaps one of the most eloquent orations he ever uttered, and of which the following are but very short extracts. 
“But, my lords; how must these considerations (former contests ofa similar kind, and laws enacted for their adjustment) 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 mediums, sometimes too languidly to warn them,—sometimes 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 lords, tis true a rare individual appeared amongst us, as if sent, by the bounty of Providence in. compassion for human miseries, marked by that dignified simplicity of manly character which is the mingled result of enlightened understanding, and elevated integrity, commanding a respect that he laboured not to. inspire*. It)is but eight years since we saw such a man amongst us raising a degraded country from, the condition of a province to the rank and 

* Alluding to the Duke of Portland, under whom Ireland completed her independent constitution, 

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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, perhaps 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 pretension; of bloated promise and lank performance; of austere hypocrisy and peculating economy. Hence it is, my lords, that the administration of Ireland so often presents to the reader of her history, the view not of a legitimate government, 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 consummate, 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 torture 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 consequence, 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.” 
“Tn this very chamber did the chancellor and judges sit (in the reign of Queen Anne and the 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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peevish mind may be exasperated, and how shall it be corrected by refutation? How fruitless would it have been to represent to that wretched chancellor, that he was betraying 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 reclaim or dissuade a mean, illiberal, and unprincipled minion of authority, induced by his profligacy to undertake, and bound by his avarice and vanity to persevere? 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 miracie could the pigmy capacity of a stunted 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 hand 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 HALE 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 splendid luminary, consumed by its heat or irradiated by its light, 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 that to things not worthy of being made better, it hath 

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not pleased Providence to afford the privilege of improvement.” 
This description of Mr. Constantine Phipps was ‘but a masked battery playing on the character of Lord Clare; every shot told upon his feelings, and on those of the whole auditory. 
Amongst all the parliamentary antagonists of Mr. Curran, there was none who more sorely writhed under ‘his tooth, than Dr. Duigenan. The former was ‘the zealous advocate for the catholics—the latter their most furious and bigotted antagonist. Whenever the question of their emancipation was agitated in parliament, the Doctor was unmuzzled and let loose to oppose them; and usually discharged 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 scorned 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 flowers the fish-market could furnish, every thing 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 singed 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 argument, what man, or what thing had he “of 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 catholies, their ancestors; he had abused 

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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. He has styled 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 {had not furnished him with argument, I had at least furnished 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 heterogeneous 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 exterminate, 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 name of Keogh, which he pronounced Keoaugh), In truth, Sir,” continued he, “I felt some surprise, and some regret, when I heard him describe the sceptre of lath, and tiara of straw; and mimic his bedlamite emperor and pope, with such refined and happy gesticulation, that he could be prevailed on to quit so congenial a company. 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 Docto:’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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himself in wind for an attack on the French by a massacre of the papists. The opinion I mean is, that catholic franchise 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 war, 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: that she is more afraid of yielding 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, has 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 hazarding 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 heard 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 ES hl Ear] Fitzwilliam was sent viceroy to Ireland, and hailed by the whole country as the harbinger of sedalching 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, however, was not fulfilled; for although Mr. Grattan and Mr. Ponsonby were called to high and confidential situations, as were some others of their friends, Mr. Curran 

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and Mr. Egan’ were passed by unnoticed, and both felt the circumstance with disappointment and chagrin. The reign of the new elèves was, however, but short; for Earl Fitzwilliam, debarred by a majority of the British cabinet who sent him, from fulfilling the promises he was authorised to hold out, demanded his recall: 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 his 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 government 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 imperfect reports, and defective of his own revision and amendments, still do they present such monuments of his oratorical powers, as if, ever equalled, were certainly never surpassed in the English language, and which, like the classic productions of Greece and Rome, will afford permanent 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 characterised 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. Their VOL, 1. z 

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sublimity was little more than a graceful and gentle solemnity; their invective went no farther than polished sarcasm, nor their vehemence than pretty vivacity. Even the older writers who dealt in larger views and stronger language, the Hookes, and Taylors, and Barrows, and Miltons, although they possessed beyond all doubt, an original and commanding eloquence, had little of nature, or rapid movement of passions about them. Their diction, though powerful, is loaded and laborious, and their imagination, though 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 now familiar to the English public. It was introduced by an Irishman, and may be clearly traced to the genius of Burke. There was no such composition known in England before his day. Bolingbroke, whom he is sometimes said to have copied, had 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 tenderness—no such visions of philosophy. The style has been defiled since, indeed, by base imitations and disgusting parodies; and in its more imitable parts, 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 writing of that nation, to the speeches of Mr. Grattan, and even to the volume before us. With less of deep thought than the connected compositions of Burke, and less of point and polish than the magical effusions of Grattan, it still bears the impression of that inflamed fancy which characterises the eloquence of both, and is distinctly assimilated to them by those traits of national resemblance.”, 
In attempting to select passages from the volumealluded 

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to in illustration of the opinion of this: judicious critic, judgment is bewildered amid the infinite variety of beauties. To quote every excellence would be almost: to transcribe them entire. They are like portions of a splendid and masterly 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 their splendour; or taking detached features and . members from the Medicean Venus, or the Farnese Hercules, 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,—and. we refer the reader to the last edition of the Speeches themselves for the full enjoyment of all their excellence. 
In the trial of Major Sirr, upon an action for assault and false imprisonment on a Mr. Hevey, one of the numerous circumstances of wanton atrocity distinctive of the period, Mr. Curran gives this statement of the transaction: ”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 major had at that moment said, he (Hevey) ought to have been hanged. The plaintiff was fired at the charge; he fixed his eye on Sirr, and asked if he’had dared to say so? Sirr declared that 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 him in disguise, secured him and sent him to the castle guard, desiring that a receipt might be given for the villain. —He was sent thither.—The officer of the guard chanced to be an Englishman but lately arrived in Ireland; he said to the constable, ‘If this was in England, I should think this gentleman entitled to bail. But I don’t know the laws of this country; however, I think you had 

better loosen those irons upon his wrists, or they may kill him.’ 

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“‘ Here he was flung into a room of about thirteen feet by twelve. It was called the ‘ hospital of the provost.’ It was occupied 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, without 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 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 insolent 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 kingdoms, we hope, that can read them without feeling his blood boil, and his 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 baat which depends upon the mere fancy or art of the orator.’ 
There are. many passages, however, of this dedesiniieb 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, after his 

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appointment to the chief command of the army, retired in disgust at its utter want of discipline, and the licentious 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 everto-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 conflagration. Instead of exhibiting the picture of an entire province, select a single object;—do not release the imagination of your hearer from its task, by giving more than an outline. Take a cottage; place the affrighted mother of her orphan daughters 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 ravisher become concentrated upon the devoted victim. You need not dilate,—you need not expatiate. The unpolluted mother 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 force, of profanation, of despair, of death. So it is in the question 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 of 

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topics which at that time agitated the public mind. We select the following as peculiar for their force and beauty. 

On the universal emancipation of all minor sects from the penal and prescriptive statute for the ascendency of the established church. 
“T put it to your oaths, gentlemen of the jury; do you think that a blessing of that kind, that a victory obtained by justice over bigotry and oppression, should have a stigma cast upon it by an ignominious sentence upon men bold. and honest’ enough to propose the measure? To propose the redeeming of religion from the abuses of the church? The reclaiming of three millions of men from bondage, and giving liberty to all who had a right’ to demand it? 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 commensurate 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 incompatible 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 5 his body swells beyond the measure of his chains that burst from around him; and he stands redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled by the irresistible’ genius of universal emancipation.” 

On the liberty of the press. 

‘f What then remains? The liberty of the press uly 4 the sacred-palladium, which no influence, no power, no 

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minister, no government, which nothing but the depravity, or folly, or corruption of a jury, can ever destroy. And what calamities are the people saved from by having public communication left open to them? 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 communication. 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 weariness; or bribe, or punishment, or disappointment, bears him down, or drives him off, and he appears no more. In the other case, how does the work of sedition go forward? Night after night the muffled rebel steals forth in the dark, and casts another and another brand upon the 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 individual 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. 2 F 
“But, gentlemen, if you wish for a nearer and more interesting 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 the liberty of the press was trodden 

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under foot; when venal sheriffs returned packed juries to carry into effect those 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 at the bottom like drowned bodies, while soundness or sanity remained in them; but, at length becoming buoyant by putrefaction, they rose as they 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 moment of a nation’s travail; of the last gasp of tyranny, and the first breath ‘of freedom, how pregnant is the example. The press extinguished, 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, conjure you to guard the liberty of the press, that great [s]entinel 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 blood, 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 andiadventitious 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, gentlemen, can you ascribe, that, in the wise, the reflecting, the 

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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 more astonishing, that in such a country as Scotland—a nation cast in the happy medium between the spiritless acquiescence of submissive 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 that never tires; crowned ‘as she is with the spoils of every art, and decked with the wreath of every muse, from the deep and scrutinizing researches of her Hume, to the sweet and simple, but not less sublime and pathetic morality of her Burns; 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 communion of vulgar vice and base-born profligacy for twicethe period that ordinary calculation gives to the continuance 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, gentlemen, 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. because 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 seento 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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convicted his client; but his last hope was prophetic; for his client was fined 500/. and bound and cast into the furnace of Newgate, for two years; and the redeeming spirit of an amiable and heroic wife, ‘ walked with the sufferer through the flames,” and by a notable stratagem extricated him from his prison, and saved him from the moral certainty of concerted destruction, had her plan been deferred or defeated. 
Mr, Curran’s next display was in the defence of a Mr. Finnerty, the publisher of a newspaper, entitled the Press: the whole of which speech was an uninterrupted blaze of eloquence. Canvassing the motives of government for this and similar prosecutions, and comparing transactions of this period to earlier occurrences in the reign of James Il.— 
“1 see you, gentlemen, turn your eyes to those pages of governmental abandorment, of popular degradation, of expiring liberty, and of merciless and sanguinary persecutions; 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 hisown proper motion: that itis 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 energy and effort that hurries him.as many miles aloft,— he sinks but to rise again. It is at that period that the state seeks for shelter in the destruction of the press;, it is at a period like that the ryRANT: prepares for an attack upon the people, by destroying the liberty of the press; by taking away that shield of wisdom 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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is too dreadful to be told. It is then humanity 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 indignantly 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 facts 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 the griefs of chided authority: Perhaps, gentlemen, he may know you better than I do: if he does, he has spoken to you 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 you agree with him, gentlemen; if you think the man who ventures, at the hazard of his own life, to rescue from the deep, the drowned honour of his country, must not presume upon the guilty familiarity of 

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plucking it by the locks,—I have no more to say. Do a courteous thing, 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, tel] 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 monster 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 most 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 you not seen with what more than instinctive keenness this blood-hound 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. Ihave heard of assassination 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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do not, I conjure you, suffer him to take an oath, the lips of the murderer should not pollute the purity of the Gospel. If he will swear, let it be on his knife, the proper and bloody symbol of his profession, and his livelihood.” 
The other state trials on which Mr. Curran was retained for the accused, were those of Mr. Oliver Bond for high treason, and Owen Kirwan for the like 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, upon a habeas corpus, moved for the discharge of the learned judge from his illegal imprisonment, under a warrant issued for his apprehension, by Lord Ellenborough, 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 tolerably 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 peculiarly characteristic of Mr. Curran’s eloquence. 
Having thus slightly sketched the portrait of this celebrated 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 profession; anda 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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devote more time to both, nor was ever man more eminently qualified to render convivial society delightful. 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 learning, 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 chord 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 fit, the flashes of his pleasantry excited such incessant peals of laughter, that the delighted guest forgot his appetite, and feasted only his mind. But, although 

CURRAN. $51 some of his biographers, who profess to have been his frequent guests and companions, bear testimony to these traits of his character, few men have been less fortunate than Curran in the historians of his joculariana; for the instances they have given to their readers rarely pass mediocrity, 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 fate of celebrated 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 for wit, and hence these forgeries increase and pass with impunity. 
Though it may ill suit with the gravity of the biographer, we have selected a few of the most feasible extant, amongst which some may be genuine, but we by no means vouch for the whole. It is but fair, however, to allow that the wit 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 water, or becomes dim or opaque. Without all the keepings of time, place, circumstance, and occasion, it is like one beautiful object. detached from a fine picture, which took its chief force and effect from its combination, as an ingredient of the materia comica. Wit is to conversation as nutmeg 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 qualities, 

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according to Pope. And “brevity,” says another eminent author, “is the very soul of it.” It is a fine, essential spirit of the mind which is apt to evaporate in the transfusion of detail; and therefore nothing is more dull than your “devilish good story of a devilish 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 digression; and we now commence, sans cérémonie, 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 who had picked pockets; by counsellors who had pleaded at the bar for their lives; by lawyers who had set the law at defiance; to see housebreakers appointed to protect the public property; highwaymen 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 political 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: “IT see, gentlemen,” said Mr. Curran, “I see the motion of his lordship’s head; common observers might imagine that implied a difference 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 when his lordship shakes his head there’s nothing init!” 

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 A brother barrister of his, remarkable for having a perpetuity in. dirty shirts, was drily asked in the presence ef 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 therejare 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 out 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, saying, he did not like pickled tongue; but, if it had been hung, he would try 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 two sons students at that university; and the contest broke out into a war of pamphlets, in which the disputauts 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. Mr. Curran, who was his counsel, in reprobating the conduct of a clergyman for writing a malicious and scandalous libel against his client, expressed an earnest wish’ that the reverend gentleman, who in his pulpit was the

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very mirror of christian charity, could find time on some wet Sunday to go to his college chapel and hear himself preach, as the best antidote against the libellous asperity of his pen. 
When the new mint was erected on Tower Hill, at an enormous expense, the high price of the precious metals, and the existing prospects of the country, rendered the office of the moneyers for a considerable time perfectly sinecure. No gold or silver was brought to the coining press; milling 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 cireumstances, Curran, in a convivial circle, observed,—‘ Iam 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 establishment is likely to coin nothing but rags, there can be no want of bullion during the reign of beggary.” 
It was not unfrequent for Mr. Curran, in some of his witty rencounters, to have his own repartees sent back upon him at second-hand, as originals, by a puny antagonist. On one of those occasions, an arrow of this sort, notoriously his own, came whizzing upon him, and being d-propos to the occasion, excited a wince; but, bowing to his assailant, he replied,— I have no objection to a scratch from any weapon of your own; but I deprecate the fate of that unlucky eagle who was pierced by a shaft plumed from his own wing.” ’ 
Daring 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 congenial to his taste or his habits. His eloquence, the ornament of his talents 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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was a field perfectly new to him, and though he discharged its duties with efficiency and honour, and gave him what was deemed the otium cum dignitate, the office of attorneygeneral, with its chances of elevation to the king’s bench, would have much more gratified his taste and his ambition. In the arrangements for Mr. Curran’s appointment to this office, Sir Michael Smith, his predecessor, retired upon the usual pension; but he stipulated also for the continuance of his chief officer, Mr. Ridgeway, in his post, on a provision for him of 500/, a year from the emoluments of his successor. Mr. Ponsonby, to facilitate the success of his friend, had promised this matter should be adjusted, met Mr. Curran, who had designed his eldest son for the place, which was worth 10001. a-year, considered himself as no party to the arrangement for Mr. Ridgeway, and refused to comply. This led to an unfortunate misunderstanding, 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 in manuscript for some time amongst 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 he had married for love, by whom he had, at. the time, several grown children, who had shared with him his eleyation and prosperity, and became a victim to the seductive 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 he separated from his unfortunate wife, but without suing for a divorce. His domestic happiness, however, was gone for 

866 CURRAN. ever. This, even for years, unfitted him for his profes sional 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 13th of October, 1817, in the sixty-fifth year of his age. For a short time before his death, his social intercourse was confined to a very few intimate acquaintance. It was imagined that his will, which was in Ireland, might. contain some directions as to his interment, and his funeral was deferred uutil 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 2 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 outshone. 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 til] 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 mind, conscious of eminent powers, might 

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be more than equivalent to the reluctant patronage of the throne.’ To his habits, legal distinctions would have been 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 separable 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 and 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 actual 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. ‘hose were the true farmers-general of Ireland; and the English minister, pressed by the difficulties 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 that deplorable triamph which led all the hopes and virtues of the country in chains behind the chariot wheels of a haughty faction. Jt was against this usurpae 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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with the vigour of men leagued in such a cause, and advanced their 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 revolution of 1780 was to Ireland what the revolution of a century before had been to the paramount country, a great and reviving effort 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 stagnation 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 atid 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 giait 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 ascendancy 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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the fallen estate of that multitude who had lived on the pay of political intrigue, the reckless poverty ofthat overwhelming population to which civil rights could not give bread, all formed a mass of discordant but desperate strength, which only required a sign.—The cross was at length lifted before them, and it was the lifting of a banner to which the whole darkened host looked up, as to an omen of assured victory. The rebellion was met with manly promptitude, and the country was set at peace. Curran was the leading counsel in the trials of the conspirators, and he defended those gnilty and misguided men with a vigour and courage of talent, less like the emulation of 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’.a traitor; the Irish rebel might have been a patriot, Among us, the revolutionist sets fire to 4 city, a great work of the wise industry, and old established conveniency of man, a place of 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 his: firebrand into a wilderness, and if the conflagration rose too high, and consumed some of its statelier and more solid ornaments, it was sure: to. turn into ashes the inveterate and tangled undergrowth that had defied his rude industry. This was the effervescence of heated and untaught minds. The world 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 ¢yes of the multitude like the primal vision ‘in the Apocalypse, a glorious shape coming forth in unstained robes, conquering and to conquer for the world’s happiness; it: had not yet, like that mighty emblem, darkened down ihrough all its shapes of terror, till it moved against the world, Death onthe pale horse, followed by the unchained 

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spirits of human evil, and smiting with plague, and famine, and the sword. 
“Some criticism has been wasted on the presumed deficiencies of Curran’s speeches on those memorable trials. Throwing off the public fact that those speeches were all uncorrected copies, Curran was of all orators the most difficult to follow by transcription. His elocution, rapid, exuberant, and figurative in a signal degree, was often compressed into a pregnant pungency which gave a sentence ina word. Lhe word lost, 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 illumination. Of Curran’s speeches, all have been impaired by the difficulty of the period, or the immediate circumstances of their delivery. Some have been 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 floorof a shrine, but on a scaffold, with no companions but: the wretched and culpable men who were to be plunged from it hour 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 and torn every heart among them. It is this which puts his speeches beyond the 

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estimate of the closet. He had no 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 grasping 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 sublimity 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 compelled 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 consisted. The course of other great public speakers may in general be predicted from their outset; but in this man, the mind, always full, was always varying the direction of its exuberance; it was no regular streain, rolling down in a smooth and straight-forward volume;—it had: the wayward beauty of a mountain torrent, perpetually delighting the eye with some unexpected sweep through the wild and the picturesque, always rapid, always glancing back sunshine, 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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the massive were equal. We had the fortune to hear some of those speeches, and repeat it, that to feel the full genius of the man, he must have been heard. His eloquence was not a studiously sheltered and feebly fed flame, but.a torch blazing only with the more breadth and brilliancy, as 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 taste. But when those are to be brought in impeachment against the great orator, it must be remembered, that they were spoken for a triumph, which they gained; that we are now pausing over the rudeness and unwieldiness of the weapons of the 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 fragments of his 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. consecrated beauty.; as statues on the face of a temple. — 
““His career in parliament was less memorable. But the cause lay in no deficiency of those powers which give weight, in a legislative assembly. In the few instances in which his feelings took a part, he excited the same admiration which had followed him through his professional efforts.. But his lot had been cast in the courts of law, and his life was there. He came into the house of commons wearied by the day, and reluctant to urge himself to exertions rendered less 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 his adversary. He left the heavy arms to the habitual combatants; and amused himself with light and hovering hostility.. But his shaft was dreaded, and his subtilty was sure to insinuate 

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its way, where there was a mortal pang to be wrung. With such gifts what might not such 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 which the world at last lies beneath her! If it were permitted to enter into the recesses of such a mind, some painful consciousness of this fate would probably have been found: to acconnt fot that occasional irritation and 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 sucha being, gazing upon her unclouded glory, lift his voice only to tell her how he hated her beams. He must have mentally measured his strength with her mighty mens 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 Flat pr away to chillness and darkness. beyond the gaze of mankind. 
“The details of Curran’s private life are for the biographer. . But, of that portion which, lying between public labours:and' 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 fewer 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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fession, and gave his advice and his praise ungrudginely, wherever they might kindle or direct a generous emulation. As a festive companion 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 bea 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 an 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,”— 
October 20, 1817. 

SIR 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 State of the Case of Sir James Caldwell, Bart. 
That he staid in Ireland in all the late troubles at and near Enniskillin, 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 Conaught and the province of Ulster, which was of such consequence, that it hindered communication between the enemies in the said province of Conaught (which were very numerous) from joining or recruiting those besieging Londonderry. — 
That the said Sir James Caldwell 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 forced to send to Enniskillin, Castle Hume, and other neighbouring garrisons, for relief, which came on the Sth of May, and joined the 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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That the said Sir James Caldwell also placed his 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 such consequence, that if the enemy had been masters of it, the whole country about Enniskillin must have submitted to them. 
That the said Hugh Caldwell had several offers of money and preferment from the Duke of Berwick to surrender the place, but always told him he would 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 Luttrel 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 Major-General 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 Tiffany, Colonel Wynne, and some ammunition, by the said major-general, 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 five days after they landed their men were forced to fight Lieutenant-General Macarty, and obtained a great victory against him, as has been heard. 
That the said Sir James met Duke Schomberg when he landed at Carickfergus, 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, amounted 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. sustained, That the said James Caldwell had, after the campaign at Dundalk, a regiment of dragoons, and a regiment of foot quartered in his house and town of Belleek, which did him much damage, and destroyed many things, which he, with so much difficulty, saved from the enemy. 
That also the said Sir James Caldwell’s daughter, Elizabeth, conveyed several quantities of powder from Dublin, by his commands, 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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various documents from the lord-lieutenant and other officers of the king. His majesty, in recompence of his services, bestowed upon him in custodiam, for seven years, 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, 

W uo 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. Possessed 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 languages, 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 accepted 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 characteristics, by abstaining, at the recommendation of his master, from animal food and fermented liquors, and during a year that he remained there, was never known to depart once from this rule. 

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In the year 1750, on the conclusion of the peace, his brother quitted the imperial service, and returned to London, whither Hume repaired, and was furnished by 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 valet acquainted with the language, he set out on his journey to Vienna. 
They were to go in the stage coach to Harwich, and the baggage having been sent to theinn the night 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 anhour. The servant proposed taking post horses, but Hume refused, saying, he was resolved that no new 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 run 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 calculated on a comfortable 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 ss ah 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 marks 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 chariot, 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, 

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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 command 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 recommended him to Marshal Konigsegg for preferment, who was himself very much inclined to serve him. 
After quitting the empress, he repaired to the ofaials and begged to be sent to his regiment, where he said Re. 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, without losing time in fruitless regret, he packed up his clothes and other ornaments, and deposited them all at iis banker’s except the worst suit, which he wore; even 

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this, however, was too good for his present purpose; he, 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 service 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 stage-coach to leave “him behind, urged him rather to overtake it on foot than incur the expense of hiring horses by his delay) set out from Vienna 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 distinguished 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 soldier. 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 commanded the party. 
In about two months time, Konigsegg wrote to the colonel, inquiring after Hume Caldwell, and, at the same time, sent an ensign’s commission for him. The colonel, 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 great regard for the young gentleman, and directed 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 quarters, who might possibly know something of him. He was immediately 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. 

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The lieutenant under whom he had enlisted, having commended him in the highest terms, these circumstances were communicated by the colonel to the marshal, and by the latter 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 furniture 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 franciscans 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 protestant, always treated the Roman catholics with humanity and tenderness: in particular, one stormy day, when it rained very hard, he discovered a priest with his congregation, 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 neighbouring cow-house, and signified to the priest and people that they might take shelter from the weather, and finish their devotion in peace. It ill becomes us, 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 letter of credit. From this. time he was 

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actively engaged in the duties of his profession, in which he rose’ gradually but rapidly. Ele was of great service in cutting off. the convoys, and annoying the reinforcements which were sent to the assistance of the King of Prussia, during the siege of Olmutz, particularly in the defeat and destruction of the great convoy, the loss of which compelled' 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 course of the ensuing winter, he was created a knight of the military order. fe . 
In the campaign of 1760, he was appointed to the command of two battalions, four hundred croats, and two squadrons of hussars,which formed the advanced guard before the battle of Landshut, in which memorable battle he forced the enemy, sword in hand, from three formidable entrenchments, 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 name to advance, and placing himself at their head, succeeded 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 lieutenant-colonel, and in the succeeding campaign always commanded the advanced or rear-guard of Laudohn’s army, when on a march. 
At the storming of Schweidnitz, he acted as that general’s immediate instrument, being put at the head of a considerable corps; and the assault being entirely left to him, 

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which, although 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 sent to Dresden and to Marshal Daun with an account of the success, and was immediately made a colonel. To follow him through all the battles and sieges in which he was engaged during these campaigus, would be giving a history of Laudohn’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 had 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 trenches were opened, and on’the 9th he commanded a well-conducted sally. On the 13th, at night, he conducted 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 with great foree 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’clock 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 his post till he was relieved, which was about nine. “As soon as he came into the room, the colonel said to him, “My dear Sullivan, as you have known me intimately several 

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years, you know that I hever feared the hour that is now come: I find so strange an alteration in myself since yesterday, and have sensations so different from all I ever felt before; that I think it impossible I should live through this night: the only favour 1 have to beg of you is, that you would*acquaint my motherand brothers that I die like an honest man, who Always had: his duty in'view; tell them, that Ibalways had my family and country at heart, and that it was the constant study of my life to do them honours As God is now: calling me, from this world, I desire to be thankful to him for all his goodness to me in it, which has been’ very extraordinary, for all my under+ takings have been crowned with success; I am still more thankful that I have now 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 night,he’settled his affairs, told him what he owed, and what he possessed; a person’ was sent for to make his will, by which he directed his debts to be paid, and gave pecuniary rewards to all his servants, appointing Captain Sul+ livan his executor: the rest of the night he spent witha minister of the Lutheran; church, and in talking of /his mother, his brothers, and family. 
At eight Captain Sullivan left him, but returned again at ten, when he found him delirious. He staid till twelve, when the last agony coming on, he could no longer sustain the pain it gave him to be present at such a scene, and therefore retired About two o’clock in ‘the afternoon of the 19th of August, 1762, the colonel died, in the twenty-seventh year of his age, and was buried the next day, in a kind of a chapel or grotto, in the Lutheran church-yard, 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 such high professional skill might have elevated him, had he lived, may be conjectured from this faint sketch of a 

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life, short but brilliant. Indeed, had he 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 conclude this article by the following translation of a letter from that general to Colonel Lockhart, on the subject. Pepaels 
“Notwithstanding the frequent sallies that have been made since the beginning of the siege, our 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 winded; of which he died in three days after. 
“T 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 that worthy officer, who, by his intrepidity and courage, which was so natural to him, as well as by his amiable qualities, 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 universally lamented. 
“As I know the friendship which subsisted between you, I am persuaded this account will give you the greatest affliction. J entreat that you would acquaint his family, and in particular his brother the count, with this melancholy event; it gives me the greatest pain to. be obliged to acquaint them with it, and myself, on this occasion, am very much to be pitied.” 
“Dated at Shiobe, the 27th of August, 1762.” 

HENRY CALDWELL
Great grandson of Sir James, and brother of Hume Caldwell, served as captain of the 36th regiment of foot, 

CALDWELL. 375 

with the rank of major in the army, under the command of the great General Wolfe. He distinguished himself both at the capture of Louisburg and of Quebec. He so far 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, he was made a privy counsellor of the province, and was appointed lieutenant-colonel-commandant of the British militia for the defence of Quebec, when it was invested by the Americans under General Montgomery. He distinguished 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 he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel on the day of his arrival.. 

CHARLES CALDWELL, 
Brotuer of the above Henry Caldwell, was first-lieutenant ‘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 employed him as a marine aid-de-camp in the whole campaign for whatever related to the sea-service. 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 musket-ball.. He recovered so far as .to be able to attend: General Wolfe in the reduction 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. 

376 

ANDREW CALDWELL, 
A LITERARY character, was the eldest son of Charles Caldwell, Esq. an eminent solicitor, and was born in Dublin, in the year 1732. He received part of his education © in one of the Scotch universities, from whence he removed to London, and after having resided for about five years in the Temple, returned 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 disposition, conjoined with his taste for the fine arts, always occupied every leisure hour, as he patronised liberally all those who excelled in any of the various branches of art. 
He had made architecture the chief objeet of his study, and about the year 1770, published anonymously, some very judicious. “Observations on the Public 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 company 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 narrative, of which only a. small number was printed at London in 1804, for the use of the author’s friends, it.is believed not more than a dozen copies were distributed in; this country. 
Mr. Caldwell’s literary taste naturally led him to collect a large library, which contained many rare volumes, and was particularly rich in botany and natural history. 
He died at the house of his nephew, Major-General 

CARLETON. 377 

Cockburn, near Bray, in the county of Wicklow, on the 2nd of July, 1808, in the seventy-sixth year of his age, after an illness of nearly three months duration. 
His manners were gentle and pleasing, and as his benevolence and other virtues caused him to be generally respected through life, so his urbanity, variety of knowledge, and cultivated taste, endeared him to the circle in which he moved. 

ANDREW CANTWELL, 
A physician, and a native of Tipperary, resided principally in Paris, where he took his degree of doctor in medicine in 1742; the same year he 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 propagating the small-pox by inoculation; and in the Philosophical Transactions, London, No. 453, an account of a double child, a boy. He died at Paris, July 11, 1764. 

SIR GUY CARLETON, 
LORD DORCHESTER was descended from an ancient family, which resided many years at Carleton, in Cumberland, 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 Marston Moor, in the seventeenth century, having espoused the loyal cause. 
Sir Guy, the subject of the present 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 

378 CARLETON. 

destined for the army, in which capacity it was augured, (from his great personal activity, and the early proofs 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 promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel of the 72nd regiment, 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 with 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 following 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 officer, and was shortly after dispatched to dislodge the French from Point-au-Trompe, a distance of twenty miles from Quebec, where the enemy were strongly entrenched; in this expedition he also succeeded, 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. the arduous duty with which he was entrusted. The next opportunity he had for displaying his valour, was at the siege of Belleisle, where he commanded as brigadiergeneral, with which rank he had been invested on the spot, and it was on this occasion he received his first wound, haying exposed himself to great personal danger during the whole 

CARLETON. 379 

siege. In February 1762, he'was promoted to the rank of colonel, ‘in which capacity he embarked with the Earl of Albemarle for ‘the siege of the Havannab, where: he’ ‘was likewise distinguished for his bravery, and. was dared in investing 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 appointed lieutenant-governor of that important place, and at length promoted to the government thereof. In this station he continued some years, and gave entire satisfaction, both to the power who appointed him, and to the provincials over whom he presided. In April. 1772, he was promoted to the rank of major-general, and appointed 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 bese htiiiihas General Carleton had an ample field forthe 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 between a French and a British constitution, gave the preference 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 England. In August 1775, Schuyler and Montgomery marched to Lake Champlain, which they crossed in flat-bottomed boats to St. John’s; but Schuyler, the American general, being taken ill, the command devolved upon Montgomery, 

* 

380 CARLETON. 

who, being an officer of great skill and ability, detached the Indians from the service of General Carleton; and having received some reinforcements of artillery, he compelled 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 Canada, and there were several circumstances favourable to his hopes of success. The works of the town had been neglected for a long time of peace; the garrison did ‘not exceed eleven hundred men, of which few were regulars, and the majority of the inhabitants were disaffected to the framers of their new constitution, and particularly to General Carleton, who was supposed to have been a steady supporter of that measure. While he was endeayouring’ to defend Quebec, amidst all these disadvantages, the American. generals, Montgomery and Arnold, summoned him to surrender, which he treated with contempt, and refused to hold any correspondence with rebels. The inhabitants too, displeased as they were with their new constitution, joined the British troops with cordial unanimity, and the American commander unprepared for a regular siege, endeavoured to take the place by storm. In this attempt Montgomery fell bravely at the head of his troops, whom the garrison, after an obstinate resistance, drove from the town with great loss. After this success, General Carleton shewed that his humanity was equal to his valour, for he treated all the prisoners that fell into his hands with mildness, and softened the rigours of their captivity. Understanding that a number of sick and wounded provincials were scattered about the woods and villages, he issued a proclamation, and appointed proper persons to discover those miserable people, afford them relief and assistance at the public expense, and assure them that on their recovery they should have leave to return to their respective 

CARLETON, 381 

homes, and that he would not take the advantage of their deserted and distressed situation to make them prisoners of war. 
Arnold adbarnneatt on the meni of Abraham, where he fortified himself, and continued the siege of Queeot in the following year (1776) but retired from thence on the arrival of an English squadron. 
General Carletan being now reinforced by sroD ba) which, added to what he had, formed a body of thirteen thousand men, prepared for 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 considerable fleet on Lake Champlain, whereas the British had not a single vessel. ‘The general therefore used every effort to procure the requisite naval force, but October had commenced before he was ready to oppose them. On the 11th October, 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 between the island of Valicour and the Western Main. An engagement commenced, and-continued on both sides for several hours with great intrepidity, but a contrary wind preventing the chief British ships from taking a part, and night coming on, it was thought prudent to discontinue 
the action, and Arnold took advantage of the night to retreat. 
The British apna 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 from Crown Point. The American commander unable to avoid an engagement, made the best disposition which his force permitted. About noon the battle began and continued 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 3rd November, and 

382 CARLETON. 

as the winter was commencing, he did not think it advisable 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 conferred on General Burgoyne. Sir Guy Carleton, (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 this 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 superseding Carleton to make room for Burgoyne, his promotion was imputed to parliamentary influence, more than to his official talents. Carleton disgusted with a preference by no means merited, as soon as he heard of the appointment, 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 pe 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 approbation of his conduct and services. 
In August 1777, 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. 

CAROLAN.: 383 

In April 1786 he was once more appointed governor of Quebec, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick, and as a reward for his long services, was in the following August raised to the peerage by the title of Lord Dorchester of Dorchester, in the county of Oxford. His lordship remained 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 born 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 proprietor of a few acres, which afforded him a scanty subsistence. 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 prudence. It was in his infancy that Carolan was deprived of his sight by the small-pox. This deprivation he supported with cheerfulness, and would merrily say, “my eyes are transplanted into my ears.” His musical genius was soon discovered, and procured him many friends, who 

384 CAROLAN. 

determined to aid its cultivation, ahd at the age of twelve a proper master was engaged, to instruct him on the harp; but his diligence in the regular modes of instruction was not great, yet his harp was rarely unstrung, for his intui-. tive genius assisted him in composition, whilst his fingers wandered amongst the strings, in quest of the sweets of melody. In a few years this ‘* child of song” became 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’a@uore, it came warm from his heart, while his genius was in its full 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 a small degree with both pride and extravagance, but she was the wife of his choice, he loved her tenderly, and lived harmoniously with her. Qn his entering into the connubial state, he fixed his residence ona small farm near Moshill, in the county of Leitrim; here he built a neat little house, in which he practised 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 commenced the profession of an itinerant musician, Wherever he went, the gates of the nobility and others. were thrown open to him; he was received with respect, and a distinguished place assigned him at the table: “Carolan,” says Mr. Ritson, “seems from the description we have of him to be a genuine representative of the amcient bard.” 
It was during his peregrinations that Carolan composed 

CAROLAN. 385 

all those airs which are still the delight of his countrymen, ‘and which a modern bard possessed of a congenial soul hath so elegantly adorned. 
He thought 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 loveliest 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 toa severe test, and the issue of the trial confirmed him, how well founded every thing had been, which was advanced 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 mutilated 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 astonishment of all present, said, very humorously, in his own language, “ta se air chois air bacaighe;” that is, here and there it limps and stumbles. He was prayed to rectify the errors, which he accordingly did. In this state the piece was sent from Connaught to Dublin; and the Italian no sooner saw the amendments than he pronounced Carolan to be a true musical genius.” 
The period now approached at which Carolan’s feelings were to receive a violent shock. In the year 1733, the wife of his bosom was torn from him by the hand of death, and as soon as the transport of his grief was a little subsided, he composed a monody teeming with harmony and poetic beauties. Carolan did not continue long in this 

386 CAROLAN. 

vale of sorrow after the decease of his wife. While ona visit at the house of Mrs. M’Dermot, of Alderford, in the county of Roscommon, he expired in the month of March, 1738, in the sixty-eighth year of his age, and was interred in the parish-church of Killronan, in the diocese of Avedagh, but “not a stone tells where he lies.” 
The manner of his death has been variously related; but that his excessive partiality for a more sparkling stream than flows at Helicon, was the cause of 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, without any ill consequence. His intemperance, however, in this respect, at length brought on an incurable disorder, and when just at the point of death, he called fora 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, wherefore 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 gratifications 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 réveur. His usual gaiety forsook 

CAROLAN. 387 

him; no sallies of a lively imagination escaped him; every moment was marked with a dejection of spirits, approaching to the deepest melancholy; and his harp, his favourite harp, lay in some obscure corner of his. habitation, neglected and unstrung. Passing one day by a grocer’s shop in the town (where a Mr. Currifteene at present resides), .our Irish Orpheus, after a six week’s quarantine, was tempted to step in; undetermined whether he should abide by his late resolution, or whether he should. yield to the impulse which he felt at the moment. “Well, my dear friend,” cried he to the young man who stood behind the compter, “you see am a man of constancy; for six long weeks I have refrained from whiskey. Was there ever so great an instance of self-denial? But a thought strikes me, and surely you will not be cruel enough to refuse one gratification which I shall earnestly solicit. Bring hither a measure of my favourite liquor, which I shall smell to, but indeed shall not taste.” The lad indulged him on that condition; and no sooner did the fumes ascend to his brain, than every latent spark within him was rekindled, his countenance glowed with an unusual brightness, and the soliloquy. which he repeated over the cup, was the effusions of a heart newly animated, and the ramblings .of a genius which a Sterne would have pursued with raptures 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 spirits 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 Carolan’s (and sometimes Stafford’s) Receipt. For sprightliness of sentiment, 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, he sung and played this noble off-

388 CARON. 

spring of his imagination in Mr. Stafford’s parlour, at Elfin.” 
“Carolan’s inordinate fondness,” says Walker, “for Irish 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 something in extenuation. He seldom drank to excess; besides, he seemed to think—nay, was convinced 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, he always took care to have a bottle beside him.” “Nor was. Carolan,” continues Walker, “the only bard who. drew inspiration from the bottle; there have been several planets in the poetical 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 regards poetic composition, and instances Cunningham, Addison, and Homer, as three authors whose works bear ample testimony to the efficacy of so pleasing a method of procuring inspiration. . That Carolan was not. indifferent 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 Lalla Rookh. 

CARON. 389 

convent of Athlone. when he was. only sixteen years’ of age; and afterwards studied philosophy in a monastery of his own order at Drogheda, under the tuition of Dr. Alexander 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 his studies at Louvain, 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 theologist. Some years after he was sent to his native country in quality of commissary-general of the Recollets, all over Ireland; where he found every thing in a state of great confusion. Being 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 seditious friars, he was in great danger of losing his 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 ums to. save him. 
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 continued 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 fees in St. James’ s church-yard in that city. 
He was esteemed a man of exemplary piety and extraordinary learning, and of upright and loyal principles, 

390 CARTER. 
which raised him many enemies among his brethren, who,’ by their connivances, caused the censures of their church to fall upon him. He was remarkably zealous in promoting the affair of the Irish remonstrance of their loyalty; and wrote, at some length, in defence of it. A complete list of his writings is to be found in Ware’s Account 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 patronised by the Earl of Inchiquin. After visiting various countries 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 Hamilton. 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 for a capriccio, commencing with the words “Fairest Dorinda,” in which he united all the elegancies of musical science, with the most humorous comic expression. 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; but the intense heat of the climate 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 fly to Albion’s genial skies, to endeavour to regain that health he had lost in delighting others. 7 
In 1793 he married one of the daughters of the Rev. Mr. Wells, of Cookham, in Berkshire, by whom he had two children, but did not live long to enjoy the’ pleasures 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 

CAULFIELD. 391 

imbibed on India’s sultry shore) on the 8th of November, 1800, being then in the thirty-second year of his age. 
He was a distinguished member of most of the musical societies in this metropolis, and was justly considered by them, “as the choicest feather of their wing.” 

WILLIAM CAULFIELD
SECOND VISCOUNT CHARLEMONT, was a brave and experienced soldier, who patriotically touk up arms in defence of his religion and country, against the attacks made on both by King James II and during the contest between that monarch and King William, he not only engaged himself, but his brothers, in the service of the latter, whereupon he was attainted, and his estate of 5001. 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 Custos Rotulorum of the counties of Tyrone and Armagh, and governor of the fort of Charlemont. 
On the 5th of October, 1692, he took his seat in the house of peers, and in 1697, the peace being concluded, his regiment was disbanded, but on the 28th of June, 1701, he was again made colonel of a regiment of foot. 
In 1705 he was called upon to serve her majesty in Spain, under Charles, Earl of Peterborough, commander-in-chief of her majesty’s forces. King Charles III being besieged by the 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 24th 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 Monjuich, 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, presented himself with a detachment, before it on the 14th of September, and commenced the assault, during 

3902 CAULFIELD. 

which Lord Charlemont behaved with distinguished’ bravery, 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 affair was ended, the Earl of Peterborough presented his lordship and Colonel Southwell 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 ieee i 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 kim 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 euskal! 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, eh was buried in the vault with his father and grandfather, under a fine monument, which he had erected to their memories, at Armagh. 
He was married on the 11th of July, 1678, to Anne, only daughter of Doctor James Mengetson, Archbishop of Armagh, and by her (who died in 1729) had five daughters and seven sons, the second of whom is the subject of the following memoir. 

JAMES CAULFIELD, 
Eart or Cuartemont. This nobleman, one of the most accomplished persons of his time, and as amiable, patriotic, and truly honest man, as perhaps ever adorned any age or country, was born at Dublin on the 18th. of 

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August, 1738. Owing to the delicacy of his constitution, and the solicitude of his father for the early formation of his principles, he was never sent to any public school, but 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. Marphy, an editor of Lucian, whose character and abilities were so congenial to the views of Lord Caulfield, that he was employed to undertake the education of the young lord. Under his imstructions, 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 travels, and treated him through life with generosity and kindness. 
In the year 1746, the young lord baving finished his classical studies, set out on his first tour to the continent of Europe; then deemed indispensable to finish the education of gentlemen of rank. He first visited Holland, and was present during the revolutionary tumult which ended inthe establishment of the Prince of Orange as Stadtholder. Then he proceeded to the British camp in Germany, 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’s life, 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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tary to Sir John Sinclair, the British plenipotentiary at the Sardinian court. From Turin he proceeded on the 27th of October, 1748, (vid Bologna) on his way to Rome, and spent the winter between that capital and Naples. In the following April, he sailed from Leghorn with his preceptor Mr. Murphy, Mr. Dalton his draftsman, and two other Irish gentlemen, on a voyage to Constantinople. On the 6th of May, 1749, having passed the poetic ‘dangers of Scylla and Charybdis, as they approached the entrance of the beautiful bay of Messina, their vessel was visited by the officers of health, who-warned them not to approach the city without due examination, for that populous and beautiful capital, the pride of Sicily, had been recently wasted with a dreadful plague, which destroyed the greater part of its inhabitants. The infection had been brought thither by a Genvese Tartan, laden with wool, bale goods, and corn, and she had entered the port under Neapolitan colours, but had come direct from the Morea, where the plague had been raging for some time. Her captain pretended he had come from Brindisi, and produced counterfeit bills of health as from that port. But his own death in the Lazaretto, gave the first alarm of that pestilence which afterwards produced such horrors. Lord Charlemont and his party were, however, permitted to land at some distance on the beach, and after a tedious ordeal of precautionary measures, they were allowed to enter the city, lately one of the finest in the world, and a scene of gran© deur and gaiety; but now reduced to the most lamentable contrast of its former state. The streets nearly depopulated, the few straggling passengers now visible were squalid from disease, famine, and despair; the shops every where closed; the pavements overgrown with grass, and a deathlike silence reigned throughout, interrupted only at intervals by the plaints of wretchedness. Such were the consequences of a pestilence, equal perhaps in its horrors to that at Athens, described by Thucydides, or that of Florence, related by Boccacio. 
From Messina the travellers sailed to Malta, where they 

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arrived on the 20th of June following; and after a short stay, proceeded to Constantinople, visiting in their way, Smyrna, Tenedos, the Dardanelles, and the Troade, in all of which they inspected every thing interesting to classical curiosity. During his stay at Constantinople, Lord Charlemont attained his twenty-first year, which he commemorated by the composition of an elegant Latin ode, in imitation of Horace’s “Ad Posthume.” Lib ii. xiv. 
“Eheu! fugaces, Posthume, Posthume, 
Labuntur Anni.” 

It was addressed to his friend, Mr. Richard Marlay, afterwards Lord Bishop of Waterford, the learned and admired friend and companion of Burke, Reynolds, Johnson, and Malone, and the maternal uncle of the Right -Honourable Henry Grattan. 
In his observations on every thing curious in Constantinople, he was zealously aided by Doctor Mackenzie, many years the resident physician to the English embassador 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 travellers proceeded to Egypt, visiting, in the course of their voyage, the Classic Isles of Lesbos, Chios, Micone, Delos, and Paros, from the last of which they sailed to Alexandria, and travelled thence to view every relique of antiquity worthy of curiosity in Egypt. On the 22nd of October, 1749, they sailed from Alexandria, intending to visit Cyprus, in sight of which they arrived, but were forced by contrary winds, after a voyage of seven days, to anchor at Rhodes. Whence they sailed for Athens, but were again driven by unfavourable gales, upon the rocky coast of Caria, now called Carimania; and on the morning of the 9th of November, they passed the promontory of Doris, on the south-east side of the Sinus Ceramicus, now Gulph of Stanco: 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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remains of the magnificent temple of the Cnidian Venus, 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; proceeding thence to Cynthus, now Thermia. On the 23rd 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 the 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 acceptable to persons of the first rank and accomplishments. At Turin he renewed his .intimacy with his former fellow-student, the Prince Royal of Sardinia, then about to be married to a princess of Spain, and the pre

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sence of our noble traveller at the nuptials was particularly requested by the prince; who afterwards took every occasion to evince his unaltered esteem for Lord Charlemont. 
His lordship next visited Lucca, Sienna, and other places of celebrity, in company with Lord Aylesbury, whom he met on his travels, and with whom he afterwards maintained an intimate friendship through life. At Verona he experienced a marked attention from the Marchese Scipione Maffei, so honourably mentioned by Lady M. W. Montague, 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 Fidus 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 amusements 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 Charlemont 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 Duc de Nivernois, and the venerable Pontiff, Benedict XIV. From Rome his lordship returned to Turin, and spent his time between that-city and Florence till the end of July 1754, when he proceeded to Spain and France, and amongst 

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other eminent persons in the latter country, he visited the celebrated 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 astonished to find blended the learning, talents, and profound philosophy of the author of LZ’ Esprit du Loi, with all the agreeable levity, vivacity, and inexhaustible chit-chat of a refined petit-maitre of the Parisian circles, although then at the age of seventy. His lordship also renewed his intimacy with Monsieur de Nivernois, St. Palaye, Helvétius, the Marquis Mirabeau. At the Count D’Argenson’s, and the Duke de 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 affections; nor was his country, during 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 young 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 his friends 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 natale solum superseded all foreign attachments, and induced him to make the land of his birth that of his constant residence; although at the time of his return, and long afterwards, it was the prevailing fashion with the Irish nobility and principal gentry, to reside in France or England: for, it must be admitted, 

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that Ireland, in those days, had but few inducements for the votaries of refined taste, elegant amusement, or social tranquillity. The history of the men and measures of those days, are so intimately blended with the life of Lord Charlemont, that it will be impossible to detach them from the thread of this memoir; but the brevity to which our sketch is necessarily ‘restrained, will oblige us to exclude all collateral details, not indispensable to our purpose. 
The first occasion we find to notice Lord Charlemont as a prominent figure in the political canvass in Ireland, was during the viceroyalty of the Marquis of Hartington, son of the then Duke of Devonshire; a nobleman selected for the suavity of his manners, and the excellence of his character, as a minister well calculated to calm the turbulence 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 partisans, and Lord Hartington 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 manoeuvres of old intriguing statesmen, was induced, at the request of the viceroy, to undertake the mediation; and notwithstanding his youth, he carried the point by the influence of his candour and conciliating manners. His own principal ‘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 establishment 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 S000/. a-year, for thirty-one years; and that the Primate Stone, after a little time, should enjoy his 

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due share of power. But this was only one of many hundred instances, which proved to Lord Charlemont’s subsequent 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 whatever claims to the favour of the viceroy this acceptable service might have found for Lord Charlemont, with him they lay dormant; for he sought no favour; and the only stipendiary 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 the subsequent viceroyalty of the Duke of Bedford, during the then existing war with France, occurred the descent of the French expedition under Thurot and General Flobert, with twelve thousand. men, upon. Carrickfergus, 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 Belfast, where he found, that the peasantry and yeomanry of the county, mostly his own tenantry, had thronged from the surrounding country to meet the enemy, with such 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, they 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 officers, who, by the active humanity and influence of Lord Charlemont, were saved 

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from the fury. of the people, and afterwards treated with protection and generosity. This skirmish, though:not very important ina 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, andthe spirit displayed by his countrymen, were highly commended in the viceroy’s dispatches to his government in England, and as graciously approved by the reigning monarch, Geo. Il. And his Grace of Bedford, at a subsequent 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 his lordship. This was the more generous, as Lord Charlemont had warmly opposed many of the Duke of Bedford’s measures in parliament. 
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 country, 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 were 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, “that they were not to walk, or form any part in the ceremonial.” 
Extremely mortified at this unexpected veto, 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 Ireland; and his lordship, ever the devoted champion of chivalry, and the honour of his fair countrywomen, used 
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his exertions with such effect, that, by the zealous aid of Lord Middleton, Lord Halifax, and Lord Egmont, and (notwithstanding the warm opposition which the object met in the privy-council, called on 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 his orders for the nobility of Ireland to take their places in the ceremonial, immediately after those of England, respectively according to rank. 
About this period the internal state of Ireland was frequently disturbed by the insurrections and tumults of the peasantry; not from any motive connected. with sedition against the government, but merely from the extreme distresses and oppressions under which the common people laboured, from a variety of causes. Amongst others, the severe pressure of the penal laws against catholics operating on four-fifths of the whole population; the exaction of rack-rents from the miserable occupants of the soil; the ‘severe exactions of tythes for the maintenance of the high church clergy, pressing on dissenters as well as catholics, to maintain a priesthood, from whom they derived no instruction or advantage, besides being obliged to maintain their own clergy; the heavy taxes imposed by grand juries for roads, and other county and baronial rates, which, added to the wretched state of agriculture and manufactures, the almost total depression of home trade, and the utter preclusion from foreign commerce, formed a constant and prolific source of irritation, to which the only legislative remedies applied were, severe laws and sanguinary punishments, 
In 1763, one of those insurrectionary tumults broke out in the north of Ireland, where the population 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 tithe system, the rack-rent landlords, and promoters of road assessments. This spirit pervaded, not only the county of 

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‘Armagh where Lord Charlemont was governor, and an extensive land-owner, but also Fermanagh, Derry, and Tyrone. The gentry of the province were greatly alarmed and called on government for military aid; and proclamations were issued, and military execution threatened. But Lord Charlemont, at the request of the government, repaired to the disturbed quarters, and by the influence of his character, and conciliatory persuasions, aided by the moderate gentry of those counties, in a short time, was the principal means of restoring tranquillity without the loss of a single life. On his lordship’s return to the metropolis, he received the warmest acknowledgments from the Duke of Northumberland for his eminent services in this 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 inno way to influence his parliamentary conduct. The duke assured his lordship that nothing of the sort was ever in contemplation’; and upon this condition, the earldom was accepted. . His grace only added a wish to be permitted, as an old friend, to testify his pure personal respect for him, in any ~ mode he should be pleased to point out. But Lord Charlemont 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 cheerfully promised him on the first vacancy. His lordship proved his sincerity in the condition, on which he accepted the earldom; for while his patent was passing through the offices, he 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 nominated to the seat at the linen board; and although the then’ Lord Chancellor, Bowes, decidedly objected to an 

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entry on his patent of peerage, stating, “that it was. wholly. unsolicited, and the spontaneous grant of his majesty,” 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 motives similar to those which afterwards led. to the profuse creations of new nobility. 
In 1764, Lord Charlemont revisited laicdon: 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 instrumental to the subsequent mission of Dr. Chandler, the celebrated 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 2000/. and for this undertaking 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 antiquity.: 
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 conviviality 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 parliaments, 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 had been long earnestly called for by the voice of the 

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country; and though heads of a bill for the purpose had twice passed the houses of parliament, even with the simulated support of those who were, at bottom, the most decided enemies of the measure, because they were confident 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 parliamentary 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 instance (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 just 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 foundation of that success for his survivors: and that the man who lays the first stone 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 Hickman, daughter of Robert Hickman, Esq. of the county: of Clare; a lady, whose mind and accomplishments were perfectly congenial with his own,. and eminently contributed to his subsequent happiness through life. 
The dissolution of the old parliament, in consequence of 

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the octennial bill, created a marked change in the energies 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 eloquence 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 dependence 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 series 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 barrister, 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 secretary of state, and provost of Trinity College; and Dennis Daly, member for Galway. 
Lord Charlemont thought it his duty to his country uniformly to act with the opposition, although he frequently viewed with regret the revolt of some of his ablest friends, whose patriotic fortitude could not withstand the 

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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; but the complaints of the country were now directed to other grievances, which, so long as they continued, were considered as insurmountable impediments to the honour, independence, and prosperity of the nation. These grievances were,—1st, the claims of the British parliament to the right of passing laws to bind Ireland; thus superseding the authority of her own legislature. 2dly, The ruinous restraints upon her commerce, which debarred her from all direct trade with the British colonies, and all share in the privileges of British subjects under the navigation act, and reduced her population to misery. And, Sadly, 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 cushioning such bills (as the phrase was) i. 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 for Ireland to hope for any measure of amelioration, political or commercial, under such control, which was supposed in any degree to interfere with British interests. 
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 mitigation of minor mischiefs; but, practically, those very minor mischiefs were the heaviest grievances under which the country internally suffered; namely, the divisions of the people into sectarious classes, cherishing mutual rancour and hostility to each other; and the intolerable yoke of the penal laws against catholics, which weighed down four-fifths of the population to a state of debasement and vassalage little better than that of the boors of Russia, or of other despotic governments of the north. This system, 

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originating in the prejudice ‘and hostility of the English settlers in that country under successive reigns, who possessed the'confiscated estates of the old rebellious chiefs, (many of them of English descent,) who resisted English: domination; and more especially the followers of Crom=+ well and William IIIf. who, having obtained the ruling’ power, seemed determined to wreak interminable ‘ven= geance on the devoted Irish, for their, perhaps, mistaken, but certainly most unfortunate loyalty to their British’ monarchs, Charles I and his son James II, The victorious 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 subjugate, but to brutalise them,—a system which a protestant legislator and eminent lawyer and'statesman, shortly before 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 eminently 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 thirtyone 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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to make room for a: manufacture of as many: protestant freeholds as his land could admit. Not. only the candidates, but: their friends and relatives had recourse to: the same expedient; and the system, in progress, was further. improved by shortening the term of thirty-one years leases to the catholic down to twelve or eight, so as) to terminate about the eve of a general election,—a ceremony in which the catholic had no share, except: the 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 uniformly prevalent in contests for representation. 
The dissenters, principally inhabiting the 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. suspected, ‘partly as. descendants of the Cromwellian: school, and tinctured with the principles of the 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 tythes 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 oaths, 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 hated the pope and the papists, 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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yearly tenants, privileges which served to 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, quamdiu se bene gesserint, 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, was 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 Charlemont 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 total 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 sufferings 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 1772 he tried it again in the lords, and during some thin attendances, succeeded as far as the second reading and committal: 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 infringement on the penal code, which. threatened the destruction of church and state! A cry was raised that the protestant interest was in danger. The lords were summoned, the house was crouded

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with the zealous supporters ‘of orthodoxy and oppression, and: I was voted out of the chair, not wholly ers ie of being little better than a papist.” . 
The war in which England was engaged with her. American 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 ineffectual 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 yery 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 trocps 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, mindful 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-lieutenant, Lord rn egeeie oy? sh that government could afford them none?’ 
This answer raised alarm throughout the whole country, 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 modern history of Ireland. It is not our purpose to detail minutely its growth and progress to maturity. Government had plainly abdicated the national defence. The people volunteered, and armed, and arrayed, at their 

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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 principal 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 predecessors and of England; by whose policy there had been but too many dragon’s teeth planted in the soil for a century, 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 government 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. 3 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 unbiassed friends of the country, that something should be done for the relief of the catholics, who were in effect “strangers at home.” The people of Ireland had long 

‘. 

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looked forward to the result of the American contest as the criterion of their own fate; and many of the most leading landed proprietors foresaw, that, if America should be successful in shaking 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: expatriation 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 sails there; and Lord North, then at the head of the British ministry, was highly favourable to relaxation in Ireland, but thought that any measure for that purpose should originate in the Irish parliament. Accordingly Mr. Luke Gardiner, afterwards Lord Mountjoy, a man of large possessions in the country, in 1778, brought ina 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. property devisable and descendible, as that enjoyed by protestants;—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 stage; 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 inheritance 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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important boon, and produced effects in the agriculture and industry of the country within ten years, unparalleled in the history of any nation in Europe within the like period. Still the distresses of the country were great, and her revenues reduced to a state of insolvency, from the trammelled state of her external commerce; and the nation now felt itself ina situation to remonstrate with England, in firm but moderate language, for the removal of her grievances, and a fair participation in the rights of British subjects, as a country annexed to the British crown, though under.a distinct parliament. It remained then to establish the independent privileges of that parliament, free from the control of an external senate; and the constitutional 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 Lord Charlemont’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 rigour, kept in order by severity, with little understanding or warm feeling for the interests of their country; animal machines —thoughtful of nothing but their pay, and implicit obedience to the commands of their officers. The volunteers, on the contrary, were composed universally 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 chosen to the chief command of the Leinster army, which gave him a just celebrity or distinction, which he acknowledged 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 character for wisdom and moderation, were selected by the whole body to hold the chief sway 

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in their direction. For it was by the influence of their wisdom, the veneration paid to it by their country, that every thing like intemperate ebullition was. restrained, whenever such a disposition 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 devoted his whole time and mind to the duties he had assumed. At this time the distress of the manufacturers was great beyond conception, and tens of thousands were supported by charity, and the value of cattle and corn was so reduced by embargoes, and the consequent. cessation of external demand, that the tenantry could not pay their rents. ‘The British government, and many eminent men in parliament, were willing to yield some measures of relief, by removing the restrictions upon Irish external commerce; but the jealous clamours of the British manufacturers prevented them. Lord Charlemont corresponded with the Marquis of Rockingham, and other enlightened friends to Ireland in the British senate; but the influence of a few manufacturing 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 commomodities whatever. This was the expedient which Dean Swift had in .ain 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 Charlemont 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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orator and patriot, Henry,Grattan, then a young barrister; but whose talents afterwards shed so much lustre upon his country. Towards the close of the session of parliament in 1778, an address was moved by Mr. Dennis, Daly, the object of which was, to open the trade of Ireland— but it was negatived. That gentleman andhis friends (of whom Lord Charlemont was a principal one) determined 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.’ Burgh, 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 bil for six 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 British house 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 in favour of Ireland, prefaced by a most animated and splendid oration. It was, however, resisted by the court members, and failed. The popular indignation roused by this circumstance, vented itself in angry but justifiable resolutions, and addresses. Parliament did not rise till September 1780, and Lord Buckinghamshire was recalled from the government the Christmas following, 

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He was succeeded 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 till the October after his arrival; and the plan of a national bank was proposed as 4 measure of popularity to his administration, and adopted. 
In the year 1781, an event took place. peculiarly illustrative 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 proposed 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 baffle 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 unanimously 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 nave assured the 

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lord-lieutenant that his regiment were ready, at a moment’s warning, to march and join the king’s troops at Cork, and he had then but to send down his orders, and they would have instantly obeyed, and marched to meet the enemy.” They would hearken to no declaratory resolutions;—it was only requisite to inform his excellency they should be at Cork as soon as any other troops in the king’s service, and they entreated he would never again use them so ill as to make a similar application, but answer for them in his own name, and command them any where, at any time. The whole northern army followed this gallant example, and fifteen thousand men declared themselves ready to march, at a moment’s notice, for the south, and place themselves under the command of his majesty’s generals, leaving a sufficient force behind for the defence of the northern counties. This promptitude gave the highest pleasure to his lordship, because it enabled him to shew to his excellency the disposition of his countrymen. His excellency, at his lordship’s request, ordered camp equipages to be furnished to such corps as were unprovided; and it may be fairly presumed, that the same spirit, manifested throughout the country, induced the enemy to abandon his project. 
In such intervals of leisure as his military duties afforded, the peaceful retreat of his elegant villa at Marino, bordering on Dublin bay, or his town residence in Rutland square, afforded the opportunities of literary amusement, and intercourse with his friends in the metropolis. Both structures were simple, but tasteful specimens of architecture, in the Grecian style, and furnished with excellent libraries, and works of statuary and paintings, by the first artists. 
The parliament at length assembled, and Lord Charlemont, on the first day of its session, moved the thanks of the house of lords to the volunteers, which passed unanimously, as did.a similar motion on the same day in the house of commons. The viceroy, Lord Carlisle, most strongly recommended to the English cabinet, a dereliction 

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of all claims of the British parliament to bind Ireland’ by any laws made at Westminster, as theretofore; and Lord Charlemont looked with confidence to the conduct of parliament itself, from which he augured the speedy accomplishment of the great objects so anxiously desired by the country. At length took place the memorable convention at Dungannon, the proposal for which originated from the southern battalion of the first Ulster regiment, commanded by Lord Charlemont. The officers and delegates of that battalion met on the 28th of December, 1781, and resolved to publish a declaration “that they beheld with the utmost concern the little attention paid to the constitutional rights of Ireland, by the majority of those whose duty it was to establish and preserve them,” and they invited every volunteer association throughout their province to send delegates to deliberate on the alarming situation of public affairs; and fixed on Friday, the 15th of February, 1782, for such an assembly, at Dungannon. On that day the representatives of one hundred and forty-three corps of volunteers of Ulster assembled accordingly; Colonel William Irvine took the chair; and the assembly was composed of gentlemen of the most considerable fortune, their loyalty and patriotism were well known and acknowledged, and they formed twenty resolutions, declaratory of the rights and grievances of their country, and at the same time expressive of their exultation in the late relaxation of the penal laws against their Roman catholic countrymen; and ° they concluded by voting the following short, spirited, and impressive address to the minority in both houses of parliament: . “My lords and gentlemen; % 
“We thank you for your noble and spirited, though hitherto ineffectual efforts in defence of the great constitutional rights of your country: go on! the almost unanimous voice of the people is with you, and, in a free country, the voice of the people must prevail. 
“We know our duty to our sovereign, and are loyal.’ We know our duty to ourselves, and are resolved to be 

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free. We seek for our rights, and no more than our rights: and in so just a pursuit, we should wha the being of a Providence, if we doubted of success.” 
The moderate temper but manly firmness of this address greatly disappointed the hopes of the enemies of the 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 succeeded in the viceroyalty by the Duke of Portland, attended by Colonel Fitzpatrick, (brother to Lord Ossory,) as his secretary. His 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 Charlemont, for the completion of those objects for which he had laboured throughout his political life, and so highly were his 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 from 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 i6th April, 1782, the reso-. Jutions moved by Mr, Grattan, in the house of commons, and carried, were objected to at the castle, 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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would have diminished their weight and efficacy. Perhaps, the Duke of Portland might think they would not meet the concurrence of the British cabinet without some alteration. Lord Charlemont had some interviews with his grace on the subject, and declared the intention of himself and his friends, to move the resolutions again in both houses without any alteration; and that ministers might take what course they thought fit. In ‘this state of uncertainty, 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. Grattan, however, persevered; and, though much indisposed, he prefaced his declaration of rights by a most splendid oration.. He stated the three great causes of complaint on the part of Ireland; namely, the declaratory statute of George I enabling the British parliament to make laws to bind Ireland; 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 opposition, 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 obnoxious statute of George I in the British house of commons with his usual ability. Lord Shelburne moved a similar resolution in the lords; and the repeal was immediately adopted. If any thing could surpass the patriotic zeal 

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and temperate firmness which marked the conduct of the Irish parliament and people in pursuit of their constitutional rights, it was the unbounded joy and generous gratitude they manifested on this first pledge of political sincerity on the part of the British government toward Ireland. The parliament Voted 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 £50,000 was unanimously voted to Mr. Grattan, as a tribute from his grateful country, for those exertions of his eloquence which so 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 the unanimity which seemed to have prevailed in parliament, that the simple repeal of the statute of George I was an ample renouncement of all 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 was done, and that nothing short of entire and formal renunciation on the part of England, of all right to bind Ireland by British laws, could be valid or efficient. But all the powers of Mr. Flood’s eloquence could not persuade the parliament to adopt this notion; and they declared themselves almost unanimously satisfied with the simple repeal, as fully binding upon the honour of England: “The nation,” said Mr. Grattan, “that insists on the humiliation of another, is a foolish nation.” But notwithstanding the satisfaction expressed by parliament, a very opposite feeling prevailed out of doors—discontent gained ground— the arguments of Mr. Flood had a very general influence. 
On the 31st of July, the volunteers of Belfast declared, by a majority of two, “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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seemed of late to be so unanimously grateful, was reviled, both in and out of parliament, by the partisans of Mr. Flood’s doctrines against the efficacy of simple repeal, But that which seemed to heap new combustibles on this newly kindled flame, was the attempt of Lord Abingdon to introduce a bill in the British house of lords, asserting the right of Great Britain to legislate externally for Ireland; and the basis of this bill was a preamble, stating, that whereas the kings of England having been acknowledged sovereigns of the English seas for eighteen centuries, the British parliament had the sole right to make laws to regulate the external commerce of Great Britain, and all such kingdoms as are under its sovereignty. There was also a clause in the bill, stating, that whereas Queen Elizabeth having formerly forbad the kings of France to build more ships than they then had, without her leave first obtained, it enacted that no kingdom, as above stated, Ireland, as well as others, should presume to build a navy, or any ship or ships of war without leave from the lord high admiral of England.” The very announcement of this bill excited a strong and general ferment in Ireland, and raised such distrust and indignation among the volunteer corps who had pledged their exertions for raising the twenty thousand seamen, that they desisted from their laudable endeavours: and a numerous and respectable corps in the metropolis, then under the immediate command of Lord Charlemont, entered into very warm resolutions against enrolling any seamen, and sent their resolutions to his lordship, then in the north, with the warmest expressions of personal respect and kindness. To this his lordship returned a polite and moderate answer, in which he shewed them the rashness of suffering themselves to be alarmed by the measure in question, which was “the production of an individual nobleman, actuated by his own private whim and prejudice, and not adopted, nor even suffered to proceed to discussion in the English parliament. The speech of Lord Abingdon in his attempt to introduce 

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this bill, was ably and explicitly replied to, and. the bill was not even suffered to lie on the table. Were the volunteers 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 England, by manning the Channel fleet for common defence against the common enemy?” This persuasive remonstrance had the desired effect, and all apprehension vanished. 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 compliance. The act for repealing the statute of George I having received the royal assent, a correspondence followed between Lord Charlemont, and the Marquis of Rockingham, and Mr. Burke. The marquis, in terms of the most cordial esteem, congratulated his lordship 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-timed offer of Ireland, to raise the twenty thousand seamen: acquainting him that Lord Keppel had sent one of the best and most alert officers in the navy, Captain M’Bride, to receive the men; which would enable him in 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 the friendly efforts of Ireland could rapidly furnish men for the purpose. 
To this letter Lord Charlemont answered, by expressing his 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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Howe’s fleet 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. government 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 service to three thousand men, not sufficient. for garrison duty: and the plan proposed was to raise four provincial regiments of one thousand men each, under the name of fencibles; 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 offer 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 peculiar 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 unpopularity 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 fencible scheme, the plan was abandoned; and the lord-lieutenant expressed to Lord. Charlemont his regret that his lordship had proved so true a prophet. 
When the volunteer regiments of Leinster were reviewed by Lord Charlemont in the Phoenix Park, the Duke of Portland was present; and on being thanked by the noble general at the next levée, for the honour his grace had done the volunteer troops by his presence;—his grace 

* 

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replied, “‘ Surely my lord, a body of troops formed on such principles, could not be so near one without a desire on my part to see their exertions in the field.” The like attention was shewn every where by the officers of government; and whenever the king’s troops, then under the chief command of General Burgoyne, met with the volunteers, military honours were reciprocated. To Lord Charlemont himself, as a commandant, every degree of military respect was paid by the king’s troops wherever he passed. And on his road to Limerick, passing through the town of Nenagh, a party of the 18th light dragoons insisted on mounting guard for him at his inn, whilst he staid, and a party of the same regiment escorted him on his journey, as far as he would permit. 
Earl Temple (afterwards Marquis of Buckingham) succeeded the Duke of Portland in the viceroyalty in 1782 and, previous to his arrival, wrote to Lord Charlemont announcing his appointment, and soliciting, as his predecessor had done, his lordship’s support to his administration. Lord Charlemont replied, by expressing his regret for the departure of the Duke of Portland, whose principles and conduct had been the sole motive of his attachment and support; and assuring the new viceroy of his support upon the same grounds only. 7 
About this time, his majesty was pleased to found an order of knighthood in Ireland, by the appellation of The Knights of St. Patrick; and Earl Temple, who had his majesty’s commands to select such a list of Irish names, as might best promote his majesty’s intentions of placing this order on the most honourable footing—addressed, with his own hand, a letter to Lord Charlemont, stating, that he could not better promote his majesty’s wishes, than by addressing himself to a nobleman, whose birth, rank, fortune, and character, as well as his eminent public services, entitled him to the veneration and gratitude of his country; and requesting permission to place his name on the list of new knights. This honour his lordship accepted with suitable expressions of his feelings for the distinction’ 

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——but on the same conditions of perfect parliamentary independence, as he had many years before accepted the dignity of his earldom; and both were the more honourable, because the spontaneous offers of the crown, wholly unsolicited on his part. . 
Notwithstanding the conciliatory measures then accomplished, there 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, could appease the malcontents. Lord Charlemont and his friends still thought such a demand indelicate, because indicative of suspicion towards the honour and sincerity of England. But his lordship, who had daily intelligence of what was passing, saw clearly the enemies of tranquillity in Ireland would never be quiet until this point was conceded: and he therefore judged, that to relinquish that point, would afford the last chance of exploding all pretences for irritation. But anew flame was kindled by the circumstance of a writ of error from the Irish courts to the court of king’s bench in England, transmitted previous to the new order of things, being entertained and acted upon by Lord Mansfield... This circumstance was regarded as an instance of punic faith on the part of England: and the uproar against the simple repealists, was louder than ever. In vain did Lord Charlemont strive to allay the gathering storm; although he considered the occurrence fortunate, as it would prevent such a circumstance being repeated in future. But it led to the adoption of a measure which silenced all apprehensions, for the draught of a reconciliatory bill was transmitted by Lord Temple to Westminster, which was introduced into the British parliament with some modification; passed both houses without opposition; and finally received the royal assent. Lord Temple continued in office until the coalition between Mr. Fox, and Lord North, took place; when his lordship was succeeded by Lord Northington. The friendship between them and Lord Charlemont continued undiminished, and 

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the volunteers 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 confidence to Lord Charlemont, his predecessors had done; and by him his lordship was called to the privy 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 congratulating each other upon the happy termination of all political disputes between the sister countries, when a new 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 outset. The corrupt state of parliamentary representation was now considered as the source of all their calamities; and Mr. Pitt, then just of age, and first advancing into public notice, became the avowed champion of parliamentary 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 intentioned 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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kingdom was much agitated on the subject. A provincial meeting, assembled at Cork, on the 1st of March, 1783, published many strong resolutions in favour of reform; and in the north, another meeting of delegates from fortyfive volunteer corps, assembled at Lisburne, on the Ist 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 advocates for reform) and they addressed a letter to Lord Charlemont, then on a visit to his friend Mr. Brownlow, at Laydon, soliciting, not 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, pointing 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 interfexe: his lordship’s opinion to be communicated to the chairman of their meeting at Dungannon, appointed for the 8th of September following; together with a sketch of such resolutions as he should sick proper to be proposed at that meeting. 
In i lordship’s answer to this letter, after acknowledging 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 hundred and sixty-nine volunteer corps. Mr. Stewart, member 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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at Dublin, on the 10th of November following; to consist of five persons from each county, to be chosen by ballot, to digest a plan of parliamentary reform, and adopt such measures as appeared most likely to effect it. An address to the volunteers of Munster, Leinster, and Connaught, accompanied this resolution, Other resolutions were adopted; and particularly one for extending the elective franchise to the Roman catholics. 
The convention at Dublin at length took place. The government was by no means at ease; but many of the delegates chosen were of a character and description which greatly soothed their fears; and, amongst others, Lord Charlemont and Mr. Brownley, who were chosen for Armagh; Mr. Stewart, for Tyrone; and many noblemen and gentlemen of large property and known moderation, chosen by other counties, whose hatred to anarchy had been always manifest. 
This convention elected Lord Charlemont to their president’s chair; an honour which his lordship accepted, as he had done the delegation for Armagh, solely with a view to co-operate with many other delegates, the friends of order and moderation, to prevent violence. And another motive was to hinder the Bishop of Derry from being called to the chair, for which that prelate, a very eccentric and violent man, was extremely solicitous, and to which he would have been chosen, had Lord Charlemont declined. The delegates adjourned their sittings, for more room, to the rotunda in Rutland square. Their noble president led the way, escorted by a squadron of volunteer cavalry. 
The assembly was extremely numerous, and in general highly respectable; but, in consequence of a mixture of some characters too ardent in natural temper and political feelings to be easily controlled by the friends of moderation, debates ran high, from day to day; and innumerable projects of reform poured in upon the committees appointed to receive them, and prepare a specific plan to be reported to the convention. At length, upon the motion of the Bishop of Derry, Mr. Flood was chosen a 

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member of the superior committee, and soon attained by his imposing talents a marked ascendency. The Bishop of Derry strenuously supported the resolution for extending the elective franchise to the catholics; but Mr. Flood as strenuously, but more successfully, opposed it. Lord Charlemont and his friends, thinking the measure at that time premature, opposed it also, and it was finally rejected. Various other plans for the reform itself met a similar fate; and, finally, Mr. Flood produced one of his own, which, upon full discussion, was not deemed better than others which had been rejected. 
We shall not here attempt to detail the proceedings of the convention more at length. The assembly, however, at length tired out by the multiplicity of visionary projects, all turned towards Lord Charlemont for his opinion. Averse alike to ostentation and public speaking, he had hitherto remained silent; but now declared his readiness to sacrifice the only borough he possessed to the wishes of that country, in trust for which he had always held it. In a conversation, which his lordship held apart with the Bishop of Derry, that noble and reverend prelate, in allusion to the catholic question, took the liberty of telling his lordship “that his conduct was by no means generally approved, and that he was considered as rather lukewarm in the cause of reform.” An unpleasant conversation followed, which closed with the following declaration of his lordship: 
“‘ The difference I make between the former and present objects of our exertions is this,—Whilst Ireland was in effect subject to a foreign legislature, there were no lengths to which I would not have gone to rescue her from a state which I considered as positive slavery. To that point I had pledged my life and fortune; and towards the attainment of it I would willingly and cheerfully have hazarded not only them, but what was still more dear to me, and far more important, the peace of my country. Our present object I esteem great, and of high importance; and to attain it, will do every thing not inconsistent with 

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the public peace, but I will go no farther. Make what use of this you please.” 
The convention 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 of Saturday, November 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 corresponding with the plan he had submitted—”and that the convention should not adjourn till the fate of his motion was ascertained.” Here was a complete avowal of a deliberative 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 military 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 encroachment 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 government, and a determination to support it with their lives and fortunes, 

In the mean time, the convention having sat above two 

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hours 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 Sunday, at Charlemont House, whereat it was agreed, that the public peace should be the first object of attention; his lordship received numerous messages from delegates of whom he 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 the 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 parliament and 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 submitted through their representatives in dutiful petitions to parliament. This was certainly the most unexceptionable 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 parliamentary reform still to be kept in view. Two resolutions were therefore passed unanimously, 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 OL t. FF 

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exhorting the nation to use every constitutional effort to effect that reform so manifestly necessary. 
An address to his majesty was then voted, declaring their loyalty to their sovereign, and their attachment to Great Britain was thought the most dignified reply to asperities cast on the assembly by some members in par~ liament. The address was couched in the most dutiful terms, and concluded with imploring his majesty that their humble wish to have certain manifest perversions of parliamentary representation in the kingdom, remedied by the legislature in some reasonable degree, might not be imputed to any spirit of innovation in them; but to a sober and laudable desire to uphold the constitution, 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 convention finally adjourned. 
Thus terminated this memorable meeting; and happy was it for Ireland, and the empire, that Lord Charlemont and other noblemen and gentlemen of his wise and moderate principles, had sway enough to prevent the seeds of anarchy so plentifully sown by indiscreet and impetuous partisans, from coming to maturity. The dissolution of the convention excited little or no public sensation. To above three-fourths of the population, namely, the catholic body, their proceedings were viewed with jealousy, if not with disappointment and disgust; for while their plan of reform talked of extending the right of suffrage to the possession of property in every shape, and at the same “time, to perpetuate exclusion from that: suffrage to their catholic countrymen, was a strage contradiction: and thus, while they professed to erect a temple of general freedom for the people, three-fourths of that people were to be precluded from entering even the vestibule. The 

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cordiality which; had for: some time subsisted' between Lord Charlemont and Lord Northington, had considerably cooled. The introduction of John Scott (afterwards Earl of Clonmell), and John Fitzgibbon (afterwards Earl of Clare) to: power, ‘had: alienated his lordship from the viceroy, whom, on the other hand, the convention had alienated from Lord Charlemont, who had continued ‘his attendances at the viceroy’s levee; after the ‘convention was dissolved; but his visits were received with such ‘cold civility, that he now declined them: entirely. He had done the state important services in that very convention, and gratitude, rather than frowns and: coldness, was the due meed of himself and many of his friends, who acted with him, and now shared in the same wore treatment. 
The coalition ministry of Mr. Fox and Lord North were soon removed from their places, and Lord Northington of course from the government of Ireland, and was succeeded by the Duke of Rutland: 
Early in 1786, Lord Charlemont was elected president of the Royal Irish Academy, incorporated under the auspices of his majesty, and to which such a president was both an honour and an ornament, as well as an able and active promoter of its laudable purposes, which embraced the three compartments} of science, polite literature, and antiquities. ‘The volunteer army—the great objects of its formation being now accomplished, began rapidly to diminish in its numbers. This circumstance 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 he relinquished the command of:those bands, there were not wanting some who might seize 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 his calm and auspicious rule, than that they should receive an-angry and ill-timed mandate from the castle, for dispersion; which, instead of obedience, might have produced 

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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 happy effects of its new-born liberties by rapid advances 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 Buckingham; formerly Earl Temple, returned once more to Ireland as viceroy, and his administration for some time moved with unusual tranquillity. On the 16th July, Lord Charlemont 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 presbyterians, 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 parties 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 mischievous 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 majesty. The arduous debates which took place on this occasion in both parliaments, are now matter of history, and not necessary for detail here. It will be sufficient 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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monarch, 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 his 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 British 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, and 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 indisposition, and no longer; and it was carried. With this address 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 members, the Duke of Leinster, and Lord Charlemont; and the commons, four, Mr. John O’Neal, Mr. Connoly, Mr. William Ponsonby, and Mr. James Stewart, to wait on his royal highness with the address; and they proceeded forthwith to London. But the happy restoration of his majesty’s health, terminated all further proceedings respecting the regency in both kingdoms. The delegates, however, were received by his royal highness with the most. courteous expressions of the high sense he felt of the 

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flattering marks of attachment shewn him by the parliament of Ireland. But this first attempt of the Irish parliament to exercise its new-born independence, by differing from that of England, on a point of so much importance, planted the first’ germ of that jealousy in the British cabinet, which determined them to watch for the first convenient opportunity 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 his conduct passed by both houses of parliament, 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 Fitzgibbon, attorney-general, — to the seals. Some of the opponents of Lord Buckingham, 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 those with their adherents was gradually formed an opposition, one of the most formidable in point of numbers, respectability, and talents, that had encountered the administration of Ireland for many years. They formed 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 Charlemont was prominently active, and also in the formation of a similar club at Belfast, where his esteemed friend: Dr. Halliday, a whig of the old constitutional school, warmly co-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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constitution from ministerial encroachment. By the members of the new Whig Club were proposed, and maintained with firmness and eloquence, a place bill, a pension bill, a responsibility bill, a bill to prevent revenue officers from voting at elections; similar to those bills which had long been the law of England. Session after session were those bills 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 lords, where Lord Fitzgibbon began to rule with almost unlimited sway. A principal ground of attack on ministers 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 house, for the like unconstitutional purpose. This most criminating charge was but feebly resisted by the ministerial party, who were content to vindicate themselves by recrimination on their opponents, that similar practices had taken place during Lord Northington’s administration, which some of the leading members of the present opposition 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 thus 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 hereditary rank, the independence of his principles, and the attachment of his country. Lord Charlemont, whose ancestors, 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 any previous intimation, or any motive assigned: for the first intimation 

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to his lordship of the circumstance, was from a friend who had accidentally read the appointment in the Dublin Gazette. 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 country 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 indignation 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, vail; 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 government, 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 ultimately 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 discontent at 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 commis-

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sioner of revenue, and seconded by Mr. Hobart, secretary to the viceroy, which proposed admitting the catholics to the profession of the law; permitting their intermarriage with protestants; removing the restrictions on their education, and the limitations on the number of their apprentices 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 support 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, 1792, 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, Mr. Latouche, an eminent banker, and a man of considerable influence and character, moved that this petition be rejected. 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 extinguished 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 vindicate 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 religious 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 consideration 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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finally passed into law, much to the chagrin of many of those former opponents who had been arrayed against it under the ministerial standard, and were now obliged to support 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 be vehemently marked his own hostility to the measure, yet he deprecated discussion, and voted in its support. Lord Charlemont, whose prejudices were unshaken, not only voted, but entered his 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 pressing importance at such a crisis, than to indulge and sanction any longer, the antipathies and prejudices of the ruling sect. And the catholics retired from the doors of parliament, 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 parliament, who, but the year before, had rejected their humble petition with contumely and reproach. 
In the following year, 1794, Lord Charlemont sustained a domestic calamity in the loss of his second son, James Caulfield, a promising youth of seventeen. 
In the parliament this year, almost the only circumstance worth notice that occurred, was the introduction of a bill, by Mr. W. B. Ponsonby, on the 4th of March, to improve the representation of the people in parliament, the second reading of which he moved for the next day. This was warmly opposed by ministers, who moved an amendment for postponing the second reading to the 2nd of August. The question, however, was debated with great ability; parliamentary reform had long been the cry of the north of Ireland; Lord Charlemont himself was a warm friend to moderate reform, but he was extremely averse to the principles of reform for which the political societies of ‘Belfast, echoed by those of Dublin, now began to clamour, namely, universal suffrage and annual parliaments. The bill introduced by Mr. Ponsonby was to effect that mea-

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sure of moderate reform which the impartial of all parties admitted to be necessary. But the government, on this occasion, opposed the measure, on the ground: that it would look like’ a concession to the seditious clamours then prevalent, and Mr. Grattan, who supported this bill, deprecated, with great eloquence, the system of reform proposed by the United Irishmen of Belfast and Dublin, as leading ‘to the subversion of all liberty, property, and government. But Mr. Ponsonby’s motion was superseded by the amendment, and'some of the ministerialists, and their partisans out of doors, did not scruple to blend Lord Charlemont and his friends in common estimation with the United Irishmen, and to impute to their parliamentary speeches part of the growing 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 and debates of the opposition, and all whom they could influence,’ were regarded by them with indifference: they, in fact, regarded Mr. Ponsonby’s bill merely as a temporary half-measure to privilege their own plans; and therefore they rejoiced in 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 moderate reformists, and if they did not go far enough to meet the views of others, it would at least have shewn that the government and. parliament were not decidedly opposed to’reform in all shapes, but would have given an earnest of disposition to ‘gratify the reasonable wishes of the country, which might be farther extended in a future session, and thus even the most clamorous for total reform would have been, at least, divided but the rejection of this moderate measure strengthened: the cause of the United Irishmen, and furnished their leaders with an irrefragible argument, that they must never hence look to the government or the parliament for any further redress of political grievances, but seek it from their own numbers and revolutionary movements: An awful crisis 

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was fast approaching, 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 catholics, long hostile to each other from religious prejudices, were now become firm 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 religious antipathy had been rapidly subsiding in the 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 interference 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 appellation 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 ultimately victorious, commenced this short system of expulsion to their antagonists. A placard was affixed in the night on the door of the catholic, in these words,— “To hell, or Connaught, in three days.” And, if he failed to obey this manifesto, his house was pulled down, his pro-

CAULFIELD. 445 

perty destroyed, his looms and furniture burnt, and his family fled by the light of the flames to seek some other asylum until they could escape from the province. The unfortunate fugitives, with their half-naked wives and children, explored their way to Connaught and Munster, the catholic provinces; and, as they begged their sustenance 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 construction from the protestant magistrates and gentry of those provinces, namely that the popish defenders of ‘the north were marching to cut their throats; and immediately the houses of the catholic peasantry were searched for arms, and their pitchforks; scythes, reaping hooks, and other manual instruments of husbandry taken away, as weapons of massacre. Such a severity, wholly unprovoked 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, domiciliary visits, military executions, and arbitrary transportations, without the semblance of law, or form: of trial, carried on at midnight, by the magistrates of ue country, aided by parties of horse and foot. 
These transactions were detailed with the most aggravating comments.; 
The combustibles already collected in the country from the details of the French 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 

446 CAULFIELD. 

hundred thousands, caught fire from new, inflammatory sources. ‘The old volunteer army had long fallen to decay. In the north, Lord Charlemont, whose voice had so long operated as a pacific charm, had now lost all influence. In the metropolis, and various parts of the country, a few detached armed companies associated under the appellation of volunteers, under the direction of some of the most democratical leaders of the old corps, and especially James Napper Tandy; who then occupied. his Sundays in manoeuvering those brigades in the fields round. the metropolis. ‘They wore uniforms quite different from those of the king’s troops; and some of the corps adopted mottoes and emblems but too significant of the political principles of the wearers. A militia law had passed in the country; but still the petty volunteer-corps increased to such a degree that they were at length suppressed by a proclamation from the castle, and a new corps were organised under the auspices of government, under the appellation of yeomanry; furnished indeed with arms and accoutrements by the government, but clothed at their own expense; and to be paid when called on actual service. In this state of affairs, the United Irishmen continued to extend their influence, to increase their numbers, and administer their oath; while an opposite party of politicians, professing the most ardent attachment to the constitution in church and state, assembled in various parts of the country, under the denomination of Orange Lodges, bound to each other by solemn and mysterious oaths. And the mutual antipathy of both daily. increased. 
During this state of things, an important increase was given to the British cabinet, from, whose consultations it was determined that some immediate measures should be taken to calm the perturbed spirits of Ireland; 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 councils: both had been previously summoned to England, in 

CAULFIELD. 447 

order for consultation 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 Earl Fitzwilliam, it was confidently signified, that the fatal abrogation of the remaining penal laws against the catholics, and a moderate reform in parliament, should be -adopted;—measures which would at once have silenced all clamour and calmed every discontent. Upon the first meeting, of parliament, Mr. Grattan, in his place, announced the objects of Lord Fitzwilliam’s mission; and shortly afterwards moved an address to the lord-lieutenant, and obtained from parliament, as a proof of national gratitude, 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 the popularity 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 rumour prevailed that Earl Fitzwilliam was to be recalled, for that he had greatly exceeded his instructions in the pledges held out to the Irish parliament; and this rumour was very speedily verified by the publication of a correspondence on the subject between Ear] 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 departure was a day of sorrow in the metropolis; and his progress to the water side had all the appearance of a funereal procession. Lord Camden came as his successor, with Mr. Pelham as secretary, to perform the ungracious office of refusing all the measures held out for his predecessor. ‘He was greeted by the populace with marked indignation. ‘Mr, Grattan now, with his friends, returned to the ranks 

448 CAULFIELD. 

of opposition, brought forward his bill for the total emancipation of the catholics. It was indignantly and decidedly resisted by Mr. Pelham, who declared. that. concession to the catholics, which had already gone to. the utmost length, consistent with safety to a protestant 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 population; it gave new force to the machinations of the seditious; and accelerated the revolutionary burst, long apprehended 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 toa 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 metropolis, within a day or two of the intended general insurrection 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, waisted their lives by a full discovery of their whole plan, force, and preparations, to a secret committee of parliament, which, Jn point of extent, surpassed all. previous conception, and astonished. both the government and senate. The rebellion 

CAULFIELD. — 449 

was still going on in various counties.. Mr/Pelham retired to England, leaving Lord Castlereagh at first as his temporary 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 Cornwallis, sent in his stead.. The rebel armies being at last disconcerted, Lord Cornwallis, 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 immediate 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 Cornwallis, the chief 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 insurgents, had dispatched an expedition, consisting of a ship of the line and seven frigates, with a body of troops officered ina great degree by Irishmen, to effect 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 exaggerated statements of their real force, they threw the ‘country into much alarm for about three weeks. Lord Cornwallis, however, marched against them, collecting in his way such troops as could be spared from garrisons, to the amount of fifteen thousand men; and general Humbert, and his whole force, after a short action, surrendered prisoners of war. On another part of the coast, namely, 

450 CAULFIELD. 

Rutland, inthe county of Sligo, the noted James Napper Tandy, as a French general of division, landed with a few partisans, to ascertain the probabilities of support from the population of that part of the country; but quickly -reembarked 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 sentenced to death by a court-martial in Dublin, but-destroyed himself, 
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 permitted to take some repose; from which, however, it was soon roused by the alarming rumour of an intended proposition for a legislative union with England. This rumour was soon verified by the avowal of government. This excited new irritation, even amongst the warmest friends 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 anticipation in a war of pamphlets and newspapers, popular meetings, 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 influence of the friends of government in support 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 commerce, constitution, power, and prosperity, formed the ‘vanguard of the proposal. The consequent prosperity of 

CAULFIELD. 451 agriculture, manufactures,'and commerce, came next; and while the metropolis was to be the emporium of British intercourse, every other outport was flattered with the prospect of flourishing on the decay of maritime commerce in the metropolis. The catholic body were told. that their complete emancipation, and admission to the representative franchise, which they must never hope to attain from an Irish parliament, would immediately follow the establishment of an union; while, on the other hand, the enemies of the catholics were told that an union was the only measure by which the catholics could be prevented from forcing their way into parliament, and effecting the subversion of church and state. The timid were told that union was the only resource left to terminate the struggles of hostile parties, and prevent the recurrence of civil war; and the bold and adventurous, who stickled for their independent parliament: in Ireland, as the great lottery for promotions to place, power, and influence, were told that union was the rapid road to those advantages, as it would throw open to them and their families a participation in all the blessings of patronage, over the extensive range of imperial dominion, British manufacturers with enormous capitals, tempted by the security of consolidated governments, were to,croud into Ireland, enrich the country, give employment and civilization to her increasing popu: lation, and rival their native England in commerce with the world. 
Parliament at length met. The subject was mentioned in the viceroy’s speech; and, notwithstanding the general irritation excited out of doors, and the vengeful clamour of some partisans in the senate, the then youthful statesman, Lord Castlereagh, brought forward the proposition for consideration in the house of commons. His lordship, in the course-of his speech, did not confine himself to a statement of the advantages. political, commercial, and social, likely to follow to his country from an identification with England, but proceeded to argue that the fond dreams of a distinct and independent parliament, and 

452 CAULFIELD. 

kingdom, so long cherished by the patriots of 1782, as the proud triumph of their struggles, and the peaceful achievement of their 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 conflict 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 was carried only by the majority of a single vote. The debate was renewed on the report of the address the next evening, 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 measure, 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 predictions 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 commensurate to the popularity of the noble viscount, who had the proud honour of proposing the measure, and conducting it to success. The people of Ireland have to contemplate 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-fourths of them suffered near a century of confiscation, 

CAULFIELD. 453 

proscription, 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 preserved by a remnant of one third of its number transported, like a condemned regiment, to represent the representation of Ireland in Kadina country. 
We now return to Lord Charlemont, whose mind was ‘Jong 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 mischief he had so long and so zealously struggled to avert. 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 publicly 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 ?—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 Cornwallis, 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, resources, and interests 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 his counsel, and expressed his confidence that it 

454 CENTLIVRE. 

was founded on the best motives, but declined at that time any explication on the project, which soon became unequivocal. Lord Charlemont exulted in the first victory over the ministers in the first session, although he did not rely on it as quite decisive; but 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 efforts for his country. Not quite eighteen years had now elapsed since he had triumphed in establishing the constitutional independence of his country. That independence which he had cherished in its cradle, he now feared he must 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 evident to his friends, whose visits he received as long as his disorder would permit, that his dissolution was fast approaching. He did not live to see the completion of the measure he so much deprecated; the hand of death prevented him that anguish. On the 4th of August, 1799, he expired, at Charlemont House, Dublin, in the seventieth 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; bequeathing to his posterity an illustrious example for their imitation, and to his native land the memory of his virtues" as an imperishable monument. 

SUSANNAH CENTLIVRE, 
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 admitting her into this work. 
She was the daughter of a Mr. Freeman, a gentleman 

CENTLIVRE, 455 

of Holbeach, in Lincolnshire. Her father had been possessed of an estate of no inconsiderable yalue, but, being a dissenter, and having discovered a zealous attachment to the eause of the Parliament, was, at the Restoration, obliged to seek refuge in Ireland, and his estate was consequently confiscated. The mother of our poetess was daughter of Mr. Markham, a gentleman of fortune at Lyme Regis, in Norfolk, who is represented as having encountered similar misfortunes with those of Mr. Freeman, in consequence of his political 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 of her, birth. It is true, Walter Harris, in his edition of Ware, does not claim her 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 had completed her twelfth year. 
Having been treated with a degree of harshness, by those to whose care she was committed, after the death of her 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 in 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 her way thither, was met by Anthony Hammond, Esq. father of the author of the Love Elegies. This gentleman, who was then a member of the University of Cambridge, was struck with her youth and beauty, and offered to take her under his protection. Either her distress, inclination, or 

456 CENTLIVRE. 

inexperience, induced her to comply with his 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 probably 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, toa lady in town with whom he was well acquainted, 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 3, but, she possessing both wit and personal attractions, soon obtained 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 attachment for Mr. Carrol, and, consequently, as having “his loss as a severe affliction. 
It was at this period of her life that she presented herself before the public as a dramatic authoress, to which she was, probably, in some degree induced by the narrowness of her circumstances. Some of her earlier pieces were published under the name of Carrol. Her first attempt was a tragedy, entitled “The Perjured Husband,” which was performed at Drury Lane theatre, in 1700, and published in 4to. the same year. In 1703, she produced a comedy, called “The Beau’s Duel; or, a Soldier for the Ladies;” and “Love’s Contrivance,” which is chiefly a translation from. Molière, and the following year another comedy, entitled “The Stolen Heiress; or, the Salamanca 

CENTLIVRE. 457 

Doctor outwitted”. In 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 impression 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 matrimonial 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 reception 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 celebrated 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 stuff:” but the piece was received with the greatest applause by the audience, and still keeps possession of the stage... In 1711, she produced, at Drury Lane theatre, “Marplot; or, the Second: Part of the Busy 

458 CENTLIVRE. 
Body.” This play, though greatly inferior to the former, met with a favourable reception, and the Duke of Portland, to whom it was dedicated, made the authoress a present of forty guineas. In 1717, her admirable comedy of “A Bold Stroke for a Wife,” was performed at Lincoln’s Ing 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 declared, 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 registered 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 Woman keeps a Secret!” was acted at Drury Lane theatre; it was very successful, and Garrick threw a new lustre on 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 performances of Mrs. Jordan, in Violante, 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 Ist of December, 1723, and was buried at St. Martin’s in the Fields. She possessed a considerable share of beauty, was 

* Since so much has been lately said relative to theatrical management, we cannot forbear hinting, that we conceive the theatres must have been infinitely better managed in those days than at present, as almost every piece produced was successful; whereas, in the records of both houses of the present day, it would be difficult to find any thing (with the exception of pantomimes) that has kept possession of the stage; and truly has their theatric course been characterised by a parodist, who said, “The failure of to-morrow, succeeds unto the condemnation of to-night.” 

CENTLIVRE. 459 of a friendly and benevolent disposition, and im conversation was sprightly and entertaining. Her literary acquisitions 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 eininent 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 introduced her into the Dunciad, for having written a ballad against his Homer. In the third book are the following lines: 
“Lo, next two slip-shod muses traipse along, 
In lofty madness, meditating song, With tresses staring, from poetic dreams, And neyer wash’d but in Castalia’s streams: Haywood, Centlivre, glories of their race,” &c. &c. 
An extensive, acquaintance with men and manners is exhibited in her dramatic writings, and they are sometimes justly censurable for their licentiousness; but she unfortunately flourished in a period. when it was the fashion to admire vicein 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 endow’d 
To scourge bold Vice with Wit’s resistless rod, 
Embrac’d her chains, stood forth her priests avow’d, 
And scatter’d flow’rs in every path she trod. 

460 CHANDLER. 

Inglorious praise, though Judgment’s self admir’d,. 
Those wanton strains which Virtue blush’d to hear; 
While pamper’d passion from the scene retir’d, 
With wilder rage to urge his fierce career.” 

In 1761, her dramatic works were collected together, and printed in three volumes 12mo. and is at present.a scarce book. She was also authoress of several copies, of verses on divers subjects and occasions, and many ingenious letters, entitled, “Letters of Wit, Politics, and Morality,” which were collected and published by Mr. Boyer. 

EDWARD CHANDLER. 
Tunis pious and learned prelate was the son of Samuel Chandler, Esq. of the city of Dublin, by his wife, Elizabeth (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 chaplain to Lloyd, Bishop of Winchester in 1693." He was made prebendary of Pipa Minor, 27th April, 1697, and was afterwards canon of Litchfield and Worcester. He was nominated to the bishopric of Litchfield on the 5th of September, 1717, and consecrated in the November following at Lambeth. From which see he was translated to that of Durham, on the 5th of November, 1730, 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 Monkevearmouth living; 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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diocese of Durham; and it is recorded greatly to his honour, that he never sold any of his patent offices. He was a prelate of great erudition, and a diligent student; and rendered himselfhighly and deservedly esteemed, as a zealous supporter of the church of England, and perse“vering investigator of truth. He was author of an 8vo. ‘volume, 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 Defence of Christianity, from the prophecies of the Old Testament, wherein areconsidered 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 publication, that it compelled Collins to produce, in 1727, 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 occasion of a second reply from the learned bishop, entitled “A Vindication. of the Defence of Christianity from the Prophecies of the Old Testament;” this was published in 1728, and in this work with great copiousness and learning, he convincingly vindicates the antiquity and authority of the Book of Daniel, and the application of the prophecies contained therein to the Messiah, against the 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 Dissertation” 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 Immutable Morality.” 

462 CHERRY. 

ANDREW CHERRY, 
AN ingenious dramatist, and amusing actor, was the eldest son of John Cherry, a respectable ‘printer and. bookseller as Limerick, and was born in that city on the 1)th of January, 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 university, but arising from various disappointments 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 protection of a Mr. J. Potts, a printer and bookseller, in Dame street, Dublin, and was by him initiated in his art and mystery. Froman ancient friendship which ‘had subsisted between Mr. Potts 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 peculiar attachment to theatrical exhibitions, and perceiving that a similar attachment (doubtless arising from sympathy) dwelt in the breast of his pupil, he rarely visited the temple of Thespis without being accompanied by the youthful Cherry. Thus encouraged, he imbibed ian early predilection (or rather . infatuation) for the histrionic art, and at the early age of fourteen, made his first appearance in the character of Lucius, in Addison’s Cato, in a large room, at the Blackamoor’s head, Towers’ street, Dublin. This passion for the stage he sedulously cultivated, aod -when he had attained his ‘pebouedanil year, viewing hats, feathers, and Thalia’s mask, floating before his disordered imagination, he indignantly spurned typography, and fearlessly entered the dramatic list, making his début as a professional actor, at a little town called Naas, situated about fourteen miles from Dublin. Here he was surrounded by a small group of miserable strollers, principally composed of runaway boys and girls (all highly-gifted no 

CHERRY. 4638 doubt) who were then under the management of a Mr. Martin. 
The first character our hero exhibited himself before his new audience in, was Colonel Feignwell, in Mrs. Centlivre’s comedy of “A Bold Stroke for a Wife,” somewhat an arduous undertaking for a boy of seventeen, as it is but rare that even the veterans of the stage are possessed of a variety of talent sufficient to represent this difficult character. The applause, however, was great, and the manager of this sharing company, after passing many encomiums on his exertions, presented him with 104d. as his dividend of the profits on that night’s performance. 
Young Cherry afterwards launched into a most extensive range of character, for being blest “‘ with a peculiar facility of study,” (de. aggood memory,) in the space of ten months, he performed almost all the principal characters in tragedy, comedy, and farce; and during the same periods underwent all the vicissitude and distress, that usually attend those hapless individuals, who are dependant on so precarious a mode of existence. The friends of Cherry have heard him declare, that although constantly employed in the laborious study, that his range of character 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 sustenance, 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 Athlone, we are told, a circumstance of particular distress attended our hero; but which he bore with all the magnanimity that dramatic ardour could inspire. The business of the theatre was suspended for a short time, in consequence of the benefits having turned out badly: the manager was resolved not to waste any more bills, but wait for the races, which were to commence in 
afew days. Our hero being of a timid and bashful turn, and assisted by a portion of youthful pride, was incapable 

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, perceiving 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 ial which. he .endured with all his former philosophy. He rambled carelessly about the streets, sometimes quoting passages to himself, both comic and serious, that were analogous .to his situation, but without forming one determined idea of where he was to rest his houseless head. ‘Towards the close of the evening he strolled by accident into the low yer 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 refreshments, &c. to those who visited the theatre. After chatting until it grew late, the woman hinted 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 I 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 his 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

CHERRY. 465 

thropic female lamented that she could not furnish 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 heart 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 offspring. 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, that 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 etisires alarm the family; and, uncertain of the real cause of his leaving his apartment at that hour, they might naturally suppose that his purpose was to rob the house, as a reward for their hospitality: 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 his 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 composed his bedding; he, however, ate it with avidity, as he was entering on the fourth day without the least refreshment, and returned heartfelt thanks to Providence, whose omnipotent’ hand was stretched in the very critical moment, 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 

466 CHERRY. 

fretting” profession, was, however, too firmly seated: in his mind and heart, to beso suddenly got rid of. He forgot entirely the misery he had so lately suffered, quitted his home, and after making some excursions of little moment, enlisted himself under the banners of a Mr. R. W. Knipe, a well-known dramatic veteran, “a scholar and/a gentleman.” In his 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. favorite of the north of Ireland, during which period he married the daughter of his old friend and seh inc ne, Knipe, by whom he had a large family. «In, 1787, Mr. Ryder having been engaged at etna Garden theatre, Cherry whose provincial repute had reached the capital, quitted the audiences of Belfast, to supply his place at the theatre in Smock alley, Dublin, where, for six years, he stood at the top of his ariaiactons in the comic line.: PHS 
Having long entertained a desire of vishoe the sister country, he engaged.Mrs..Cherry.and himself to the celebrated Tate Wilkinsbn, at the period when Mr. Fawcett entered into articles with the managers of Covent Garden, whose situation he filled at the theatres of York, Hull, &c. for three years, when he again returned to his native country, 1 
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 his wife, he successfully performed two years. From thence he went to Bath, where for four seasons he any opti ap ample share, of public favour. 
On the abdication of the late Mr. King, Mr. ibekers was engaged at Drury Lane theatre, where he made his 

CHICHESTER. 467 

appearance on'the 25th of September, 1802, in the characters of ‘ Sir Benjamin Dove” in the “Brothers,” and “Lazarillo,” im “Two Strings to your Bow,” and. was received 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 conspicuous: his life, though little else but a record of folly, however, will not be utterly useless to mankind, if but ove of those countless individuals,—the would-be Richard’s and Hamlet’s,. pause ere they sacrifice the sunniesthours of their lives, making a compact with the 
“juggling fiend, that keeps the word of promise’ to their ear, and breaks it to their hope.” 
As an author, Cherry is fully deserving of the epithet, ingenious, as he contrived to produce a comedy (The Soldier’s Daughter) which ran for thirty-seven nights, at a time when the public taste was not very degraded. . 
He wrote altogether ten-dramatic pieces, the titles of which are to be found in the Biographia Dramatica. 

ARTHUR CHICHESTER, 
EARL of DONEGAL, was the eldest. son of Edward, Viscount; Chichester, and: was born. on the 16th January, 1606. In 1627 he succeeded Lord Valentia in his 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, on: Saturday,.23rdOctober, 1641, about ten q’clock at night. He immediately by fires and alarm-drums raised the country, and distributing the arms and ammunition among those who came to Carrickfergus, he left the castle under the care of Captain Roger Lyndon, and marched with about three hundred horse and foot to Belfast, where he received a reinforcement. On the 27th he joined the 

468. CHICHESTER. 

Lord Montgomery, at Lisburne, and. soon after he was appointed, in commission with Sir Arthur Tyringham, to the chief command of the county of Antrim. He immediately endeavoured to put the towns in a state of defeuce, and to take the best methods in his power for the suppres= sion of the rebellion, in which he was farther assisted by a. commission from the king, and a grant for the fortifications of Belfast. But when, by the defection of the army in the north, he could no longer maintain his command, 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 Ormond’s 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 tind naeamants 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 ¢1 am sure) beyond. them all, except one, sn fortune, though he be for the present deprived of the latter for his faithfulness to your majesty’s crown, the same means whereby his 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 majesty 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, that 

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 conceive that of Dannegall, a county in the province of Ulster, wherein he should have a good inheritance, is fittest, which I humbly offer to your majesty’s consideration, as a part of the duty of
Your majesty’s, &c. 
4 pest phi 

~ 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 performance of the articles between them, for the surrender of Dublin, and the other garrisons, to their commissioners. Soon after the Restoration he was appointed custos rotulorum of the counties of Antrim and Donegal, and also restored to the government of Carrickfergus. In 1668, he founded a lectureship on mathematics in the university of Dublin. He died at Belfast, on the 18th March, 1674, and was buried at Carrickfergus. 

MICHAEL CLANCY, M.D. 
THIS 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 seventeenth, 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 occasion, he, with two of his companions, seizing an opportunity, quitted the college, for the purpose of seeing an individual who had rendered himself celebrated all over Europe; which having accomplished, he was, either through fear or shame, deterred from returning to his pre-

470 CLANCY. 

ceptor. He accordingly resolved on proceeding to his 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 excursion, making the best of his 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 ina 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 he 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 advancement, 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 25th of July, 1724. 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 coast 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 he obtained a passage to Rochelle, and from thence to Bordeaux, where he intended to commence the study of physic. .He afterwards. obtained the degree of doctor at Rheims. At what time he returned to Ireland is unknown, 

CLAYTON; 471 

But he was there in 1737, when he was deprived of his sight by an accidental cold. This deprivation rendering him incapable of his profession, he amused hitself 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 thei inconveniences 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, Tiressias the blind prophet, in “Oedipus.” This performance was for his own benefit at Drury Lane theatre. He after: 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 “Templum Veneris, sive Amorum Rhapsodiæ;” and of three dramatic pieces, whose titles are, 1. “Tamar, Prince of Nubia,” T. 1739; 2. “Hermon, Prince of Chorwa,” T. 1740; 3. “The Sharper,” c. 1750: 

BENJAMIN CLARE 
WAS a man of extraordinary talent, but neglected to improve it by due application (by no means an extraordinary 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 lamented, in that city, in 1810. 

DR. ROBERT CLAYTON, AN eminent scholar, and a prelate of the church of Ires Jand, was born at Dublin, in 1695. His father, Dr. Clayton, was minister of St, Michael’s, Dublin, and dean of 

472 CLAYTON, 

Kildare. The family was descended from the Claytons; of Fulwood, 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 applicas tion of the pupil, cemented between them a warm and laste ing friendship. From Westminster he was removed to Trinity College, where he made honourable progress, and, in 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 1728, he came into possession of .an affluent estate, in consequence of his father’s death, when he laid down his fellowship without any beneficiary commutation, 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 hersister. He shewed an equal degree of noble kindness to his own three sisters, and gave each double what had been bequeathed them by his father’s will. 
Soon after his marriage, he went with his lady to London, where a person in distressed circumstances applied to him for assistance, with 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 the whole sum which the unforstunate 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 was strongly enforced by Mrs. Clayton, afterwards Lady Sandon, then in attendance in her Majesty’s service, as: bed-chamber woman. Such powerful interest procured a recommendation to Lord 

CLAYTON. 473 

Carteret, then *lord-lieutenant of Ireland,’ for the very first bishopric which should become vacant, and he was accordingly appointed bishop of Killala, January 1729-30. Over this see he presided till 1735, 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 important rank in society in a dignified and respectable manner, but ‘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 attention 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’ the Journey of the Children of Israel,” 1747, 4to. Continuing his Biblical studies, his lordship 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 2000, 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 considerable 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 primate of Ireland; and it had the effect of fixing on him 

474 CLAYTON. 

the stain of heresy, and preventing his rising farther in the church, After all, the work was not written by the bishop himself, 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 1752, he was recommended by the Duke of Dorset, the viceroy of Ireland, to the vacant. archbishopric of Tuam, but was refused the 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, 1752, 8vo. It is a work of great learning and ability, which discovers great acuteness of criticism and industry in his lordship, and in it the objections of Bolingbroke are ably exposed and confuted. 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, continued but a short time, The best answers to the work were, “A Full Answer, &c.” 1753, 8vo. by the late Rev. William Jones, the friend and biographer of Bishop Horne; and “A Vindication of the Doctrine of the Trinity,” in three parts, with an Appendix, by the Rev. Dr. Randolph, father to the 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 diffusing the Arian sentiments, which, however, he adds, “are at present upon the decline, the Unitarians tending fast to the doctrines of Socinus.” On the “Essay on Spirit,’ Dr. Warburton 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; of a much ranker cast than common Arianism. Jesus Christ is Michael, and the Holy Ghost, Gabriel, &c, This might be heresy in an English bishop, but in an Irish, ’tis only a blunder. But thank God, 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 hid.” 

CLAYTON. 475 

appeared in 1754, in which he attempts to give an account of the formation of the earth, and of the deluge. 
In 1753, he published “A Journal from. Grand. Cairo to Mount Sinai, and back again. Translated from a Manuscript, 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 dedicated to the Society of Antiquaries. The bishop having become possessed of the original journal from Grand Cairo to Mount Sinai, and which had been mentioned by Dr. Pococke in his Travels through the East, offered this translation 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,or the 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 Wilderness, it was supposed that much curious: and. interesting 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, English, Illyrian, 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 contribute £100 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 desert of Sinai, for the express 

476 CLAYTON. 

purpose of seeing and describing the objects proposed by’ 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 was in 1755; and consisted 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 further 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 en 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 unfavourable 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 prosecution. A day was appointed for a general meeting of. the Irish prelates at the primate; to which Bishop Clayton was summoned, that he might receive from them the notification of their intentions. A censure was certain; 

' CLAYTON; 477 

and it was apprehended he would be deprived of his benefice. His lordship however, and the other. bishops and ministers, were relieved from all further trouble. in-so. unpleasant, an affair by the hand of death, Feb. 26, 1758. The disease was nervous fever, and the agitation of mind: under which he was thrown when a prosecution commenced 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 had 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 inconsistent; and, indeed, it is, impossible to view in a favourable light the behaviour of the bishop and his precedent 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 hadany probability of living, ought not to have weighed much. in apy circumstances; and surely none at all with one who was possessed of so ample a private fortune. And to suffer for conscience sake, toa 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 buffettings, of the waves; he must expect the warm attacks of his opponents, and particularly so, if the tenets he advances be in opposition to those to which he has sworn his belief; and miserable must. be his feelings if he is not. 

478 CLEAVER? 

prepared to withstand such: hostility, and to derive: consolation from the approbation of his friends, and the still more important judgment of his own conscience. 
We turn with pleasure to the amiable qualities manifested by the bishop in private life. The objects of his charity were numerous, and he bestowed his benefactions with such privacy, that it might be truly said his “left hand knew not what his right hand gave.” Being a member of the linen board, he 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 honourable labour. 
The bishop left behind his 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 he belonged, 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 Clayton, 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. 

Mrs. CLEAVER
WIFE 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 her, it blessed her;” when the ear heard of her, it was in the chorus of praise and admiration: in her was united all the warmth and liberality 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 unbounded; unostentatious in her charities,“as in all her actions, she concealed 

CLERI. 479 

themas much as:possible from the public eye. She seemed indeed to live but 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 inexpressible 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 endowments which would have rendered her conspicuous in any sphere of life, had she pursued the paths of literature; but the duties of 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 chamber, found her dead, apparently as if recently engaged in prayer. 

MICHAEL CLERI, or, CLEIRIGH. Tuts historian and antiquary was a native of the province of Ulster, a friar of the Franciscan order; and being well skilled in the language and antiquities of his country, was one of the envoys sent into Ireland from Louvain, by Hugh Ward, to collect the materials for his work relative to the Irish Saints. This task he performed with indefatigable industry for about fifteen years, and collected together. a mass of information, both genealogical and biographical, and which proved invaluable (as has been 

480 CLOSE. 

recorded) to John Colgan, the author of the “Acta Sanctorum Hiberniæ.” 
The task assigned him by Hugh Ward, afforded him an opportunity of procuring many other materials, regarding 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’Melchonaire, 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 Ogygia, taxes with great defects in point of chronology; 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 glossary 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. 

Sir BARRY CLOSE, Bart. 
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 embarked in the service of the company in a military capacity, and in every situation to which he was progressively advanced, 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 valuable connection afforded him many opportunities during the memorable siege of Seringapatam, of distinguishing 

COGHILL. 481 

himself in such.a manner as to obtain much 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 xominal ~-re-establishment of the hereditary rajah on the’ throne of Mysore, the Marquess Wellesley entrusted to him the important office of resident at that court, in which and in other diplomatic employments, he exhibited political ‘talent, not inferior to his military abilities. . His conciliatory manners and firmness of mind, 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, ynfortunately for that country, which he had served with a “warmth of public spirit almost unequalled during a i yom of forty-two years. 

MARMADUKE COGHILL
Was born in Dublin, on the 28th December, 1673, and ‘was admitted 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 markof respect and esteem his constituents conferred 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 representative of the people. As one of the first commissioners 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 church in Ireland from his exertions. In private life he was univers- 

482 COLE. 

sally beloved for his benevolence, affability, and sweetness. of temper. His sister, Mary Coghill, erected the church of Drumcondra, near Dublin, as a monument of respect and affection to his memory, and ornamented it with a tomb, sculptured by Scheemaker. 

Sir JOHN COLE 
Was descended from the ancient family of the Coles of Devonshire, and was the second son of Sir William Cole, who was the first of the family settled in Ireland. 
The year of Sir John’s birth has not been recorded. During the unhappy dissensions, he was very active under his father, particularly in the relief of Enniskillen, which having been besieged nine weeks by fifteen hundred men, under Philip M’Hugh O’Reily, they were surprised in a sally by Walter Johnson, an officer under Sir William, who being seconded by Sir John, with his foot-company, and some volunteers, they raised the siege, and led the pursuit of the enemy for seven miles, as far as Maguire’ % bridge. 
After the reduction of Ireland by the parliament, he was appointed, with others, on the 21st November, 1653, commissioners for the precinct of Belturbet, to consider how the titles of the Irish and others to an estate in Ireland, and also their delinquency according to their respective qualifications, might be put into the most speedy and exact way of adjustment. 
On the 27th of February following, he had the pay of £18. 4s. allowed him by the month, as governor of Enniskillin, and being very instrumental in promoting the restoration of King Charles Il. his majesty by privy seal, dated at Whitehall, 4th August, and by patent, 23rd January, 1660, created him a baronet, in consideration of his very many good services performed to him; and on the 13th of December gave him a colonel’s commission in a regiment of foot, to which he was appointed on the 22nd of March following; having on the 19th been constituted 

COLGAN. 483 one of the commissioners for ‘the settlement of the king= dom, for which purpose he had a grant of lands. 
He was member of parliament for the county of Fermanagh, of which county he was appointed custos rotulorum on the 2nd of April, 1661. He married Elizabeth, daughter of John Chichester, Esq. of Dungannon, by whom he had four sons and seven daughters, and died in or about the year 1693. 

JOHN COLGAN
A native of the county of Donegal, and celebrated; both as an author and a scholar; was a strict Franciscan friar in the Irish convent of St. Anthony of Padua, in Louvain, in which he was professor of divinity. He was thoroughly acquainted with the Irish language, and like wise possessed a great knowledge of the antiquities and church history of his country, by the acquirement of which learning, he was admirably qualified for the praiseworthy and laborious work in which he had engaged, namely, the collecting and writing the lives of the Irish saints; a work in which he was greatly aided’ by the collections made for the same purpose by Hugh Ward*, who was unfortunately prevented from carrying his intentions into effect: by sudden death. He (Colgan) gave up the greater part of his time and talents to this work, and has published two large folio volumes, illustrated with: many notes, both useful and learned, especially in what regards
Hugh Ward was likewise a native of the county of Donegal, but received part of his education at Salamanca and part in Paris; and afterwards was made lecturer, and then guardian of the Irish college at: Louvain. Prior to which he was admitted into the order of Franciscan friars at Salamanca, in the year 1616. He was a man deeply read in Hibernian antiquities, and undertook the writing a complete History of the Lives of the Saints of Ireland. For which purpose he employed one Michael O’Clery,. who was likewise a friar of the same order, and sent him from Louvain to: Ireland to search for manuscripts and to collect materials for the work. The finishing of which was prevented by the author’s sudden decease, on the 5th November, 1635; and the whole of his papers came into the possession of John Colgan, and were singularly useful to him, 

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 Sanctorum Veteris et Majoris Scotizæ seu Hiberniæ, &c. &c.” Lov. 1645. Folio. His intention (says Ware) was, first to publish one general Treatise, or Synopsis of the Ecclesiastical Antiquities of Ireland. Secondly, The Acts of St. Patrick, St. Columb, 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 Antiquities. Into this volume he brought all the saints 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 (continueth, 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 [Greek], or the Saint-stealer. Peter Talbot, a man of “good parts and learning,” gives our author the title and character of Incitorum Corrosor, or a raker together of uncertain and unknown lives. The second volume of this work was printed at Louvain 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 his 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.

485

ST. COLUMBA, or, COLUMKILLE, . Was one of the greatest patriarchs of the monastic order’ in Ireland, and the apostle of the Picts. To distinguish him from other saints of the same name, he was surnamed Columkille, from the great: number of monastic cells; called by the Irish, killes, of which he was. the founder. He was of the noble extraction of Neil, and was born at’ Gartan, in the county of ‘Tyrconnel, in 521, and early learned the divine 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-magh, now called Durrogh, and Sit James 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 antiquarian observes, that a rule composed by St. Columba, then existed in the old Irish. This rule he settled in the hundred: monasteries, which he founded in Ireland and Scotland. 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 Scotland, 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 Iona, called from him Y-colin-kille, twelves miles from 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 

486 COLUMBA. 

the kings, and other superior personages. Lewis, in his ancient History of Great Britain, mentions the remains of the tombs in the church-yard, of forty-eight kings of Scotland, four kings of Ireland, and eight kings of Norway. 
St. Columba’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 cheerful, and his general. benificence [sic] won him the hearts of all;—he considered time of so much value, that. he suffered no minutes to pass without employment, and that employment of the best kind, promoting religion and virtue in his own person, and communicating the same by example and precept to all, around him,—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 offered: the crown of Ireland, and that. Dermod M’Cerball, his competitor, succeeded only because our holy abbot preferred the cowl to the diadem, an evident proof of the sincerity of his devotion, and the humility of his mind. A, 
He died in the seventy-seventh year of his age, and was buried in the island, but was some ages. after removed to Down, in Ulster, and laid in one vet with the remains of St. Patrick and St. Brigit. 
It is justly observed by Butler, that formerly, christians hid themselves in solitudes, that they might more immediately devote themselves to the service of Gods but now, after a christian education, too many pass their whole lives in dissipation and vanity, without being able to find leisure 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 thing: for which they exist —religion, or the worship of God. 

END OF VOL. 1

INDEX to this FIRST VOLUME. 
[Removed]