A BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

OF THE

WORTHIES OF IRELAND,

FROM THE

EARLIEST PERIODS TO THE PRESENT TIME,

WRITTEN AND COMPILED

By RICHARD RYAN

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 calamitousmoral 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} 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”. {v}

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 {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.

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,

BARRETT. 83

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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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,

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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

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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,

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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

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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

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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.

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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-

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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.
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

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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. To 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 [sic for Jaffeir], and Lear; and almost every character he played.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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,

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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,

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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

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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.

[66 facing - unnum. page with plate; verso unnum.]

Barrys House in Castle St., Oxford Market

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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,

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“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,

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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;

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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-

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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,

Afterwards 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

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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.”

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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-

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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-

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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,

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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,

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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,

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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

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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

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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-

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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-

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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.
This 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

134 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 .

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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, &c., 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 youths in that establishment.
During his stay at Eton, he met with several accidents which had nearly proved fatal to him. Being once

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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

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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

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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.

BOYLE. 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 to increase, 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

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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

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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.

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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

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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-

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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

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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

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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,

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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,

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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

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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,

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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

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“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,

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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

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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

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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-

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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 Ireland, 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

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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.
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 to visit 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,

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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,

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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

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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

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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.

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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 unexpected 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

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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.”