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EDMUND BURKE.
THE early history of this great man is unusually meagre; even the place of his birth has been disputed, According to some of his. biographers, he was born at Dublin; according to others, in a little town in the county of Cork. The date of his birth, however, is more certain—1st January, 1730. His father was an attorney of considerable practice; and, beside the results of his practice, had an estate of 150/. or 200/. a year.. He married into the ancient family of the Nagles. Edmund was his second son; and, at a very early age was sent to Balytore school, a seminary in the north of Ireland, well known for having furnished the bar and the pulpit of that country with many distinguished men—a fact the more worthy of note, because the school has, for near a century, been under the direction of Quakers, whose oratory is not generally esteemed the best model of imitation for young men of any profession, with the exception, perhaps, of those who are intended for certain walks of the drama.
Here young Burke is said to have distinguished himself “‘ by an ardent attachment to study, a prompt command of words, and a good taste.” He proved the power of his memory by the facility with which he became a capper of verses, and the precocity of his invention by;
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writing a play, of which little is remembered, but “that Alfred was the principal character, and that the piece contained many sublime sentiments on liberty.”
We lament the loss of this school-boy effusion; it is important to mark the gradations by which genius mounts. If the first essays of great men could always be known, we should often find their ascent to have been more gradual than is usually imagined. Many a young aspirant, who is dismayed at the height which others have attained, would be cheered and stimulated if he could ascertain what they had accomplished at his age, and the indolent and confident would be reminded that no superiority of talent can supply the necessity of early and regular exertion.
Burke regarded his preceptor, Mr. Shackelton, with feelings which did honour to both. For nearly forty-years that he went annually to Ireland, he invariably travelled many miles to pay him a visit; nor did he confine his friendship to old Mr. Shackelton, his son enjoyed it also, with whom he was in habits of constant correspondence.
From school,. Burke went to Trinity College, Dublin; but here, according to his contemporary, Goldsmith, he did not distinguish himself. It may excite surprise, that the motives which placed him at the head of his school, did not operate to raise him at the university; but let the progress of the human mind be carefully observed, and the inquirer will soon find that the springs of action are very different in the child and the adult. The child performs his task from love of imitation, hope of reward, and fear of punishment; as the intellect strengthens, he begins to love learning for itself, or for the distinction which he hopes to gain by the exertion of original powers; that which was before a means becomes an end, and his former hopes and fears, and wishes, pass away and are forgotten.
We are far from asserting that such a change obtains in every mind, and still farther from maintaining that it always happens at a particular age. We only suggest this new birth as unfavourable to a very ardent affection
7 BURKE. 933 for college exercises, because the natural and unavoidable distinction between man and man, will always tend to produce variety of object. Artificial motives will alone produce exact conformity of movement; and where these have not only faded from the view, but are supplied with others which have a contrary effect, it must cease to be matter of surprise, that men, whose originality in after-life instructs and delights future ages, should be so often outstripped in youth by competitors, whose names will only be known to posterity from their association with those whom they conquered.
How far our theory is correct we shall leave to the decision of our readers; the facts on which it is built are numerous and incontrovertible; and, if Burke be still thought to deserve censure for coolness with regard to university honours, let it be at least remembered that, among the companions of his disgrace, must be counted Johnson, Swift, Gibbon, Dryden, and even Milton himself,
At an early period of his life, Burke is said. to have planned a confutation of the metaphysical theories of Berkeley and Hume—a task which he never executed. Indeed, according to some of his biographers, his ideas flowed with too great a rapidity to enable him to give that patient attention to minute distinction, without which it is in vain to attempt a confutation of these astute and subtle reasoners. We find it sufficiently difficult to decide upon the merits of what he has done; and, therefore, feel no inclination to institute an inquiry into the possibility of his genius.
In the year 1749 we find young Burke employed upon a subject more analogous to his future pursuits. At that period, Mr. Lucas, a political apothecary, wrote papers -against government, and acquired by them as much popularity in Dublin as Mr. Wilkes afterwards obtained by his North Briton in London. Burke employed against Lucas the Reductio ad absurdum; he imitated his style
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so exactly as to deceive the public; and pursued the principles of his opponent to consequences, which, in the opinion of his biographers, necessarily resulted from those principles, and: which rendered their falsity manifest.
“Ireland,” says Dr. Bissett, “though often the mother; is seldom the nurse of genius.” She does not seem to have any exception in favour of Mr. Burke, or he certainly would never have deserted her for Scotland. We are told he became ambitious of the logical chair at Glasgow; but, whether the application came too late, or whether the university was unwilling to receive a stranger, certain it is, Burke was unsuccessful.. One account says, that he was passing the old college gate, when a label affixed to it, struck his eye, inviting all the candidates for the professorship to a competition, although it was known that a successor was already fixed upon. Burke was still young enough to be taken in by this form; although he had enjoyed the benefit of an academic education, and might have learnt, we think, to suspect the seeming fairness of such challenges.
Disappointed in Glasgow, Burke betook, himself to London... His first arrival in the metropolis was in. 1753; and he immediately entered himself of the Temple. Here he studied with unremitting diligence; but his exertions were not confined to the acquisition of knowledge, for, although, from the death of his elder brother, his. ultimate expectations were considerable, yet, as his father was still alive, and had other children, his allowance was small; and he found it necessary to supply the deficiency by his own exertions, and we are told, he became a frequent contributor to the periodical publications. His manners, at this period of his life, were engaging; his habits and conversation were long remembered at the Grecian coffeehouse (then the rendezvous of the templars), and they left a strong and favourable impression of his talents and morals. On the other hand, his detractors have ridiculed him for, passing his leisure with Mrs. Woffington the
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actress; but it should be recollected that she was his country-woman, and that her society was no less courted by men of genius than by men of pleasure.
Although he was professedly studying the law, he by no means confined himself to that science; there is reason to believe that he never made it even a principal object of attention. If we may trust his biographers, he ranged over the whole expanse of human knowledge; even when he narrowed the bounds of his excursions, they appear almost too wide to, be traversed by mortal energies. “The studies to which he gave himself up with peculiar zeal (says Dr. Bissett), were those which unfolded human nature, history, ethics, politics pneumatology, poetry, and criticism.”
The consequence of this application was a dangerous illness, and he resorted for medical advice to his country
-man, Dr. Nugent, a physician of great skill and equal benevolence. The Doctor, considering that chambers are much better adapted for producing patients than curing them (an opinion which we hold from experience to be among the soundest in the profession), kindly offered him apartments in his own house, where the attention of this benevolent man and his family, gradually, with or without the assistance of medicine, restored his patient’s health. Among the most attentive to young Burke, was the amiable daughter of his host. A warm and mutual attachment was formed between the convalescent and his gentle nurse, and soon after his recovery they were married. With Miss Nugent, Burke seems to have enjoyed uninterrupted happiness: “In all the anxious moments of my public life (he often said to his friends) every care vanishes when 1 enter my. own house.”
In 1756 appeared the first of his productions which he has thought worthy of acknowledgment. It is a very happy imitation of Bolingbroke, entitled “A Vindication of Natural Society.” It was a bold attempt fora young man, only in his twenty-seventh year, to impose upon the
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world the essays of his own inexperience for the productions of a veteran, and such a veteran as Bolingbroke; but the experiment succeeded. Macklin the player, who was a kind of professor of Belles Lettres at the Grecian coffee-house, affected to detect Bolingbroke at every turn, and exclaimed to the young templars, Burke, perhaps, being one of the audience, Oh! this must be Harry Bolingbroke, I know him by his cloven foot.” Itis also said that Warburton, and even Chesterfield, were at first deceived. It may have been so, but to us the irony appears tolerably evident. Burke’s intention by this ironical attack upon society, as at present constituted, was to shew the disciples of Lord Bolingbroke, that the same train of reasoning by which their master had attempted to explode the religion of their country, in whose fate they were but little interested, might be applied to the destruction of their property and the annihilation of their privileges, and wisely concluded that the argument ad crumenam was the most effective, if not the soundest which could be employed against them. There is a radical fallacy in the reasoning of the sceptical philosophers, which lays them fairly open to such attacks as this of Burke’s. They take it for granted, that all the evils which exist, are effects of the peculiar systems under which they exist. They deem it sufficient to point out evil to prove the necessity of alteration, forgetting that good and bad, like up and down, are, practically speaking, only terms of comparison, and, that it is idle to point out defects in a system, without at the same time furnishing an opportunity of comparing them with remedies; for since a perfect system can never be made without perfect materials, it behoves the objector to shew that the defect is in the construction, and not in the elements, which he cannot do, unless by shewing how a different construction would have obviated the objection.
In arapid and masterly sketch, Burke shews that political societies have seldom been employed but in injuring each
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other,— that, if we may trust history, a hasty, partial enumeration of the numbers who have lost their lives in public wars, more than equals the whole existing population of the earth. Turning from the external to bie internal polity of governments, he shews that all are alike wayward, ignorant, selfish, and tyrannical, waging an eternal war with the happiness of our species. From all which he infers that we have done wrong in forming political communities and enacting laws, and that we should have rested satisfied with the simple relations of natural society.
As must be expected, the picture is overcharged, and sometimes the portrait verges upon caricature; yet the author has shewn great art in avoiding almost all exaggerations but what naturally resulted from the nature of the attack.
Soon after the “Vindication of Natural Society,” appeared the celebrated Essay on the “Sublime and Beautiful.”. This work is too well known to require an analysis of the system. The investigation was new, and though far from being completely successful, has at least furnished some important suggestions. Johnson considered it a model of philosophical criticism: ”We have (he said) an example of true criticism in Burke’s Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful. There is no great merit in shewing how many plays have ghosts in them, or how this ghost is better than that, you must shew how terror is impressed on the human heart.”
The publication of this work formed a distinguished epoch in the life of Burke. He speedily became universally known and admired. The ignorant and superficial, from the subject, believed him to be a man of taste; the learned and the wise, from the execution, knew him to be a man of taste and profound philosophy. © His acquaintance was immediately courted by the most distinguished literary characters. Mr. (afterwards Sir Joshua) Reynolds and Dr. Johnson were among the first who formed an intimate connection with him; and the latter in particular
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was so charmed with the genius and knowledge which he exhibited, that, at a very early period of their acquaintance, it was observed by Murphy, that Johnson would from Burke bear contradiction, which he would tolerate in no other person. Goldsmith, Popham Beauclere, Sir John Hawkins, and many others equally distinguished for literature and classical acquirements, also became acquainted with him about this time; and of these was formed a literary club, which comprehended almost all the talent and genius of the day. But the principal and most immediate advantage derived by Burke from this publication, was a remittance of 100/. which his father, who was enraptured at perusing the spirited and elegant production of his son,. immediately forwarded to him; and which, with the sale of his book, relieved him from some very pressing pecuniary embarrassments.
In 1758 he proposed to Dodsley the plan of an “Annual Register” of the civil, political, and literary transactions of the times; a work, which, if conducted on liberal and impartial principles, must be allowed to have been a great desideratum in. history. This proposal met with Dodsley’s approbation, and it was carried into effect; Burke himself superintending the publication, and contributing largely to its contents for many years.
He had, at an early period of his life, been connected in intimate friendship with the Right Honourable William Gerard Hamilton, since known by the familiar appellation of “Single-Speech Hamilton;” a title which was founded on a general, though erroneous idea, that Mr. Hamilton had never delivered but one speech of any importance in the British senate; and that one so justly celebrated as to give rise to an opinion, which was strengthened by the intimacy of the parties, that it was composed for him by Mr. Burke. When Mr. Hamilton went over to Ireland as official secretary to Lord Halifax, then lord-lieutenant, he prevailed upon Burke to accompany him. . Shortly after his arrival there, Mr. Hamilton having made another
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excellent speech in the Irish House of Commons, and having procured for Burke a pension of £300 a year on the Irish establishment, it was considered by many as a recompence for his assistance in their composition. This, however, we have reason to believe was not the case; the talents of Hamilton were very great, and fully adequate to the production of the speeches referred to; and his future silence in the senate may be easily accounted for by the indolence of that gentleman, whose ample fortune afforded him the means of indulging in that dissipation to which he was so ardently attached. His biographer, however, in negativing the above report, does not furnish us with any clue to guide us out of the labyrinth; and we are still at a Ioss to ascertain to what peculiar circumstances Burke was indebted for this liberal and seasonable supply. That it was not altogether owing to an understood or avowed agreement, on the part of Burke, to support the measures of his friend by the powerful efforts of his genius, may be collected from the circumstance of his never having been known as the author of any political publications on that side during the short period of his stay in Ireland. He also retained the pension for some time after his return to England; and did not throw it up until he had declared himself an avowed adherent to the party in opposition to that in which Hamilton ranked.
An anecdote which is recorded of the dissolution of their friendship, principally, we suppose, for the sake of the pun which it contains, is totally inconsistent with the facts related by Dr. Bissett. In a dispute which arose-on some political question, Hamilton is reported to have told Burke, “that he took him from a garret;” “Then, Sir, by your own confession, it was that descended to know you,” was the indignant reply. Bissett, however, states, that though no intimate connection subsisted between these gentlemen after Burke’s return from Ireland, yet that their friendship was never entirely dissolved, a circumstance which must have been unavoidable, had the above report
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been true; and he alleges, in confirmation of this, the authority of a letter written by Burke to Hamilton, which he had seen, and in which the former gentleman expostulates with his friend on his indolence, and reminds him, that he himself had a growing family to maintain, and must turn his talents to what would be useful; and, on that account, that he must politically associate with men of more active exertions,
On his return to England, his pecuniary circumstances being less embarrassed, and himself raised above want by his Irish pension, he applied himself with equal ardour, and increased success, to the study of politics. Several pamphlets which he published about this time, together with some occasional disquisitions in the Public Advertiser, introduced him to the notice of Mr. Fitzherbert, through whose friendly medium he became known to the Marquis of Rockingham and Lord Verney.
Now it was that Burke was destined to shine in his proper colours, as a distinguished orator and enlightened statesman. The administration, over which Mr. Grenville presided, having become unpopular to the nation and unpleasing to the court, his majesty, in 1765, appointed a new ministry, composed entirely of the friends and political adherents of the Marquis of Rockingham. The marquis became first lord of the treasury, and Burke was appointed his private secretary; a dissolution of parliament took place, and Burke was nominated by Lord Verney to represent the borough of Wendover, in Somersetshire.
Johnson had declared, that in whatever society Burke were placed, he would become the first man in it: “If he were to go into the stable,” said Johnson, “and talk to the ostlers for five minutes, they would think him the wisest man they ever saw.” This opinion was quickly realised. The high expectations which his party had formed of his genius and abilities were not disappointed. With that ardour of mind which ever prompted him to shine, he devoted the time previous to the meeting of parliament to
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anew course of study. For the, purpose of storing, his mind with facts, reasonings, imagery, and sentiments, he applied himself with unwearied diligence to the study of history; poetry, and philosophy. His. biographer, also assures us, that he at the same time dived deep into 4 study, of which it would be difficult for any but himself. to. perceive the utility; that of the Fathers, and the scholastic disputations of the middle ages. A study, more evidently useful, but which to the elegant mind of Burke must have been almost equally unpleasing, was that of parliamentary. usages, precedents, &c, in which he employed a great portion of his time, aware in how great a degree they were essential to the man of eminence in parliamentary business. He soon, however, felt that all acquirements would. be of little. service, unless accompanied by an easy and unembarrassed manner of communicating them to others. To obviate this difficulty, and accustom himself to bear his own opinions combated and. to oppose, those of others, he for some time frequented the Robin Hood Society; a debating club at that time in high reputation, and which has produced many men of distinguished oratorical powers. By this course of studies and exertions, continued for some months, he qualified himself for delivering at the opening of the ensuing session, a maiden speech, which excited the admiration of the house, and elicited the warmest praises from the great Mr. Pitt.
The influence which introduced Burke into the house of commons, had no doubt considerable weight in determining his parliamentary conduct. This will probably not be regarded as a harsh assertion, when we consider the comprehensiveness of his mind and the soundness of his judgment, and reflect on the measures which he advocated in his first parliamentary essay. The object of primary importance, when the Rockingham administration succeeded to power, was America; and Burke, with the rest of that party, advised and strongly contended for measures which certainly, in whatever light we consider them, give
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us no very great idea of the political efficiency of their authors. Their intention was to conciliate the Americans by a repeal of the stamp act; but at the same time to save the honour of the mother country, by pressing an act declaratory of the right of the British parliament to tax the colonies. With reference, however, to subjects of domestic policy, this administration acted with greater prudence and better success. The repeal of the cyder act, a law which invested with an unjust and almost arbitrary power, the officers of the excise, gave universal satisfaction. Resolutions were passed, declaring the illegality of general warrants and the seizure of papers, circumstances which had excited so much dissatisfaction in the affair of Wilkes; and many excellent commercial regulations were carried into effect. But the consequences which must result from their measures, with respect to America, were so evident, and perhaps too the secret influence which afterwards removed the Earl of Chatham, was so strong, that they were quickly dismissed from office to make room for a new administration under the auspices of Pitt; created for that purpose Earl of Chatham, and lord privy seal.
In this brief sketch of the short-lived Rockingham administration we have scarcely mentioned Burke, as his public life was identified with the history of the party which he supported. On its dismissal, he published “A short Defence of the late short-lived Administration;” in which he advocated their measures with great plausibility, and in a style essentially different from that of any of his other productions. It bears the semblance of having been composed by a man of consummate plainness and simplicity, and was therefore more adapted for making converts than the most elaborate and highly-finished production, which would rather have been regarded with suspicion, as the pleadings of an ingenious and artful advocate. He soon after published an ironical answer to this defence, purporting to be written by a tallow-chandler and common council man, in which he attacks Lord Chatham and the
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BURKE. 248 new ministry with great humour, mingled with the keenest irony. Whatever may have been the merits or demerits of the Rockingham ministry, they certainly deserve high commendations for the liberal manner in which they retired from their offices. Not one of them retained either place, pension, or reversion for themselves or their friends. A piece of disinterestedness which must have been severely felt by Burke, from the narrowness of his private fortune.
In July 1766, Mr. Burke being once more free from all restraint, revisited his native land, endeared to him by long absence, and the remembrance of the friends of his earlier years, with many of whom he renewed his acquaintance. Towards the close of the year he returned to England, where a strong opposition had been organised against the measures of the new administration. In this Burke took an active part, and soon distinguished himself as the head of the Rockingham party, in which, although supported by men of powerful talents, Dowdeswell, Counsellor Dunning, and Colonel Barre, Burke always claimed pre-eminence. His speeches shone with a. warmth of imagination united toa high degree of political knowledge, which the others could never attain. The opinion which Burke entertained of this ministry, which is commonly known by the Grafton administration, is thus humorously described by himself. After paying many merited eulogiums to the character of Lord Chatham, he claims the privilege of history to speak of the administration he had formed, and thus proceeds: “He made an administration so checquered and speckled; he put together a piece of joining, so crossly indented and whimsically dove-tailed; a cabinet so variously inlaid; such a piece of diversified Mosaic; such a tessellated pavement without cement; here a bit of black stone, and there a bit of white; patriots and courtiers; king’s friends and republicans; Whigs and Tories; treacherous friends and open enemies; that it was indeed a very curious show, but utterly unsafe to touch, and unsure to
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stand upon. The colleagues, whom he had assorted at the same boards, stared at each other, and were obliged to ask, ‘Sir, your name? — Sir, you have the advantage of me — Mr. Such-a-one—Sir, beg ten thousand pardons.’— I venture to say, it did so happen, that persons had a single office divided between them, who had never spoken to each other in their lives, until they found themselves, they knew not how, heads and points, in the same trucklebed.” )
An administration, composed of materials so discordant, could not long remain united. The secret influence of the princess dowager was unceasingly employed in scattering dissensions among the ministry, and in counteracting the patriotic designs of Lord Chatham. Wearied with unavailing attempts to carry into effect the extensive plans which he had meditated for the good of his country, and finding it no longer in his power to oppose the cabal which had been formed in the cabinet against him, this great and patriotic statesman at length retired in disgust, under the united pressure of age and ill-health. He felt that he had no longer the power to oppose with effect those ruinous measures into which the country was about to be precipitated, and he resolved not to give even a tacit consent to them, by retaining an office of which the power had passed away from him. i
On the resignation of Lord Chatham, the parliament was dissolved, and Burke was again returned for the borough of Wendover. The new parliament, which met in November 1768, is famous for the, proceedings which took place in the memorable affair of Wilkes, and which are so well known as to render a repetition of them useless. Burke, on this occasion, took a high and constitutional ground, strenuously contending that. an act of parliament alone could disqualify any person from sitting in the house of commons, who had been fairly elected by a majority of votes to a vacant seat. This principle, though then rejected, was, in an ensuing parliament,
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acknowledged, the resolution for inserting the name of Luttrell. in. the returned writ, instead of that of Wilkes, being rescinded. by order of the house., This: and other events which occurred about the same time, gave rise to those celebrated letters inserted in the Public Advertiser, under the signature of Junius. These letters have frequently been vattributed to Burke, but on very insufficient grounds: be declared to Johnson that he was not the author of them; and the internal evidence of style, together with the very different political opinions of Burke and Junius, prove their characters to have been entirely distinct.
Nor did Burke on this important occasion confine himself to the many excellent speeches which he made in the house. He drew up a. petition to the king, from the freeholders of Buckinghamshire (at Beaconsfield, in which he had now purchased a house), complaining of the conduct of the house of commons in the expulsion of Wilkes, and praying for a dissolution of parliament. Indeed so unpopular at this time was the Grafton ministry, that their continuance in office was principally, if not solely, owing to the divisions among. their antagonists. The opposition was composed of two parties, at the head of which were the Marquis of Rockingham and Mr. Grenville, which agreed. on no other point than to harass the ministry. Mr. Grenville, about this time, published an Essay on “The present State of the Nation;” to which Burke wrote an answer, under the title of “Observations on the present State of the Nation.” Grenville’s principal object. was to prove that the nation was about to be ruined by a deviation from those principles on which he acted during his administration, and that America was very well able to pay a certain proportion of taxes towards the support of the state. In his “Observations” on. this pamphlet, Burke, with great perspicuity, follows Grenville through all his details, and proves the insufficiency and inaccuracy of his arguments and calculations: ”Grenville,” said
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Burke, “is satisfied to repeat gravely, as he has done a hundred times before, that the Americans are able to pay, but does he lay open any part of his plan how they may be compelled to pay it, without plunging ourselves into calamities which outweigh ten times the proposed benefit?” He attacks the Grenville administration with severity and justice, he defends that of Rockingham with ingenuity, and ridicules, with the most sarcastic remarks, the conduct of their successors.
The effects of the new system of taxation on the imports of North America, which had been introduced at the recommendation of Mr. Charles Townsend, and which had principally occasioned the retirement of Chatham, now became obvious. The disturbances now assumed a more threatening aspect, and afforded Burke a capacious field for the display of those splendid talents with which he was endowed. For the purpose of intimidating the Americans, it was proposed to revive an obsolete law, by which the king was empowered to appoint a commission in England, for the trial of treason committed beyond seas. A law at once so unjust and so impolitic, met with the most strenuous opposition of Burke. This, however, was unavailing, and its immediate effects were such as he had predicted;—it exasperated the Americans, without causing the least obstruction to their measures.
While these extraordinary measures of colonial policy were carried into effect, the proceedings in the case of Wilkes, had raised so great a ferment throughout the whole of England, as to cause the most insulting, and imperious remonstrances to be drawn up and presented to the king, particularly one from the livery of London, which assumed a tone nearly approximating to that of licentious abuse. On this occasion Burke published “Thoughts on the Causes of the present Discontents;” the principal object of which is, to recommend the formation of an open aristecracy, consisting of men of talents, rank, property, and independence. .Such an aristocracy,
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he conceives, having a greater interest in the welfare of the country, will be more likely to promote it, than either the people themselves on the one hand, or the minions of a court on the other. This, in the opinion of Dr. Bissett, may be regarded as a land-mark of Burke’s own doctrines respecting the British government; and from this he conceives himself qualified to prove, that the sentiments avowed by him at this time, were those which he continued to act upon during the whole of his life. We, however, cannot implicitly subscribe to this doctrine; the design of the pamphlet in question is evidently to procure the re-establishment of the Rockingham party in power, and, viewed in that light, it is a most ingenious party performance. Asa general system of government it might perhaps be reckoned amongst the most visionary theories on that subject which have ever appeared; an aristocracy so formed, would quickly degenerate into an oligarchy, (indeed, in its best and most perfect form, it would be little else than a masked oligarchy,) and the consequences to the public welfare would be more deleterious and destructive than even the pure and unmixed power, either of a monarchy, or a democracy.
On the resignation of the Duke of Grafton in 1770, and the promotion of Lord North toa high and efficient situation in the cabinet, Burke uniformly opposed the measures brought forward by that minister, particularly those which affected the dispute with America. The discontents and disturbances excited by the laws, enforced by: the late administration, were too evident not to be perceived, and too extensive not to be dreaded; yet the precipitation with which those measures had been enacted, left no medium for the minister to pursue. To remove at once the causes of discontent by repealing the obnoxious acts, was to acknowledge the incapacity of the British government to enforce obedience to them; and, on the other hand, to continue them, and to compel their execution, was to plunge the nation into an expensive and
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destructive war. In these distressing circumstances, Lord North was anxious to attain a medium where none could exist; he proposed to repeal all the obnoxious laws of the preceding administration, with the exception of that which imposed a duty on tea, in itself of no importance, but which he conceived it advisable to retain, as a mark of the authority of parliament over the colonies. © This measure was evidently impolitic in the extreme, as it evinced the weakness of the government without removing the cause of the dispute. The opposition of the Americans was not to the amount of taxation, but to the principle, which was equally established by the most trifling tax, as by the most oppressive and degrading impositions. This measure, evidently founded on the same mistaken policy, and emanating from the same principles with that which Mr. Burke had so strongly advocated on his first appearance in the house of commons, was on this occasion opposed by that gentleman with the keenest force of his ridicule: “‘ Lord North’s scheme,” he said, “was a heterogeneous mixture of concession and coercion; of concession not tending to conciliate, and of coercion that could not be carried into execution; at once exciting hatred for the intention, and contempt for the weakness. Thus, the malignity of your will is abhorred, and the debility of your power is contemned; and parliament, which you persuade to sanction your follies, is exposed to dishonour.”
To account for this apparently extraordinary change of sentiment, Dr. Bissett observes with much metaphysical subtilty of reasoning, that “as Burke’s great genius was more and more matured by experience, he became, in estimating plans for the conduct of affairs, less and less attentive to questions of abstraction;” and pursues his argument until he arrives at the conclusion that “abstract competency should be regarded as subservient to moral competency.” “The Americans,” says Bissett, reasoning for Burke, “have been very serviceable to Britain under the old system; do not therefore, let us rashly seek a new.
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Our commercial interests have been hitherto very greatly promoted by our friendly intercourse with the colonies; do not let us endanger possession for contingency; do not let us substitute untried theories for a system experimentally ascertained to be useful.”
“Whatever opinion Burke,” said his old friend Gerard Hamilton, “from any motive, supports, so. ductile is his imagination, that he soon conceives it to be right.” Burke was more accustomed to philosophise on certain questions than is usually supposed; and by revolving the question in every possible light, it is conceived that his mind was often as full of arguments on one side as on the other; hence it is, that men of quite opposite opinions have been equally desirous to quote his authority; and that there are, in his works; passages that may be triumphantly brought forward by almost any party.
In the summer of 1772 he paid a visit to France, where his high reputation made his society courted by the most distinguished politicians, and philosophers, of the day. The hasty strides which republicanism and infidelity were making in that country were obvious to the eye of Burke; which is the less surprising, when we remember that they were observed about the same time by aman of much less discernment and no religion, the late Horace Walpole, Lord Orford. So deeply, however, was the mind of Burke impressed with the dreadful effects which he appre‘hended from their united force, that, on his return to England, he could not avoid, in a speech in the house of commons, adverting to them as objects worthy of no common dread.. He professed that he was not over-fond of calling in the aid of the secular arm to suppress doctrines and opinions; but if ever it was to be raised, it should be against those enemies of their kind, who would take from us the noblest prerogative of our nature,—that of being a religious animal. And he concluded by recommending, that a grand alliance should be formed among all believers, *‘ against those ministers of rebellious darkness, who were
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endeavouring to shake all the works of God, established in beauty and order.” In the course of the same session, on a motion by Sir Henry Houghton for the relief of dissenters, he expressed in strong terms, his opinion of the disqualifications under which they laboured, calling the toleration which they enjoyed by connivance, a temporary relaxation of slavery;” a sort of liberty “not calculated for the meridian of England.”
On the dissolution of parliament in 1774, he was returned, through the influence of the Marquis of Rockingham, for the borough of Malton, in Yorkshire; but when on the point of sitting down to dinner with his friends in that town, after the election, a deputation of merchants arrived from Bristol to request him to stand for that city. By the advice of his constituents at Malton, he consented to accompany them, and throwing himself into a post-chaise, proceeded with all possible expedition to Bristol. A large body of the principal merchants of that city, consisting chiefly of dissenters, had beheld with admiration his splendid talents, and considering him a firm friend to the cause of civil and religious liberty, stood forward in his behalf. The old members for that city were already opposed by Mr. Cruger; and on Burke’s appearance on the hustings, which was not until the sixth day of the election, he delivered a most eloquent speech, in which, by his intimate acquaintance with the advantages and principles of commerce, and the local interests of Bristol, he produced so deep an impression on the minds of the electors, as to ensure his final success. He was returned for that city in conjunction with Mr. Cruger; a gentleman, who, it would seem, possessed no great share of that eloquence which so eminently distinguished his colleague. It is even reported, that after Burke. had delivered one of his best speeches, at Bristol, Cruger rose up, and exclaimed, “I say dilto to Mr. Burke—I say ditto to Mr. Burke,”
The meeting of the new parliament ca high a greater
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assemblage of talents than had perhaps ever appeared in any age or country. Fox had long been a member of the house of commons, but had never hitherto distinguished himself for oratorical abilities or political efficiency. Stimulated to exertion by the hitherto unrivalled eloquence and powers of Burke, he now commenced that glorious career in which he persevered until his decease; and Fox and Burke were not only regarded with admiration by the opposition, of which they were the undaunted champions and supporters, but were viewed by the minister and his adherents with mingled admiration and dread. The political connection now formed between these two great men soon led to an intimate friendship, which continued to unite them both in Pe and private life for many years.
The mistaken measures of the administration had now driven the Americans to the necessity of taking up arms in defence of their civil rights. The struggle was long and arduous. On the one hand, an extensive and fertile country, firmly united in the support of their rights; onthe other, a nation so divided within itself that a majority perhaps of its inhabitants rejoiced in the successes of those whom the government would have taught them to regard as enemies. During the whole of the contest, Burke uniformly and ardently opposed the measures of Lord North, and defended and encouraged the Americans in the pursuit of those privileges for which they fought; a conduct which, notwithstanding the endeavours of his biographers to establish a thorough consistency throughout the whole of his political life, we can by no means reconcile with that which he afterwards pursued when France was engaged ina similar contest. In tke course of this war he delivered many brilliant speeches which are convincing evidences of the vast extent of his genius, and the great superiority of his eloquence.
Doing the summer of 1776, Burke, together with several other leaders of opposition, took the extraordinary,
252 BURKE. though not unprecedented step, of seceding from parliament, and retiring from the house, whenever any question relative to America was brought into discussion. We cannot conceive him justified in this conduct, notwithstanding the arguments adduced in his “Letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol;” and it was the opinion of the opposition at large, that such measures should not be persisted in. Burke himself observed, on another occasion, that “Eloquence, though it might not procure a majority to members of opposition, was not without its effect, in modifying measures of ministry.” In the succeeding session he returned with great vigour to his parliamentary duty, and became again a most active partisan of the opposition, and indefatigable in seizing every opportunity of harassing and distressing the ministry.
On his election for Bristol in 1774 he had openly declared himself against the popular doctrine, that the members of the house of commons, being the organ of the people, should; on all occasions, vote in concurrence with the sentiments, and in obedience to the instructions of their constituents.. These sentiments he carried into execution, particularly in supporting the bill for relieving the trade of Ireland from many oppressive restrictions under which it then laboured; on which occasion he had received instructions from his constituents to oppose it. His exertions in favour of Sir George Saville’s motion, for relieving the Catholics from certain penalties to which they were subject, were also disapproved of by the citizens of Bristol. On these and other occasions, he had acted in so direct an opposition to their deliared opinions, that, when he presented himself a second time as a candidate for Bristol, at the general election in 1780, he was compelled, after an unsuccessful canvass, to decline the contest; which he did in a speech replete with his usual eloquence. In consequence of this disappointment, he took his seat in the new parliament for the borough of
Malton.
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The first session of the new parliament, which was distinguished by the accession of Pitt and Sheridan to the opposition, presented a scene similar to that of many preceding years. The ministry, supported by their numbers, continued to resist with effect, the attacks of the opposition, which were energetic, and supported by a combination of talents never equalled. This assertion will not be regarded as an exaggeration, when we refer to the last effort of the opposition in the session of 1781. A motion by Fox, for the house to resolye itself into a committee, to consider of the American war, was supported by Sheridan, by Dunning, by Pitt, by Burke, and by Fox.
The ensuing session was very different in its history and in its results. The long continuance of the war with America had so completely shaken the confidence of the country members in the wisdom of the ministers, that hopes were entertained by the opposition, that a reiterated and well conducted series of attacks might finally ensure success. The contest was commenced by a resolution, moved by Mr. Fox, on February 7, 1782, accusing Lord Sandwich, then at the head of the Admiralty, of gross mismanagement in the conduct of naval-affairs. The small majority by which this motion was negatived, encouraged them to proceed in their plan; and, several motions haying been decided against them by a diminishing majority, on the 8th of March, Lord John Cavendish moved certain resolutions, recapitulating the failures, the misconduct, and the expenses of the war. These resolutions were met by a motion for the order of the day, and were lost by a majority of only ten.
This defection on the side of the administration gave heart to the minority, and they rallied with redoubled force and spirits on the 15th of March, when a motion of Sir John Rous, “That the house could: have no further confidence in the ministers, who had the direction of public affairs, was negatived only by a majority of nine. The minority followed their fortune, and, on the 21st of
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the same month (the house being uncommonly crouded [sic passim] the Earl of Surrey (late Duke of Norfolk) rose to make his promised motion, when Lord North spoke to order, saying, “He meant no disrespect to the noble earl; but, as notice had been given, that the object of the intended motion was the removal of his majesty’s ministers, he meant to have acquainted the house that such a motion was unnecessary, as he could assure the house, on authority,—-that the present administration was no more! and that his majesty had come to a full determination of changing his ministers; and, for the purpose of giving the necessary time for new arrangements, he moved an adjournment,” which was instantly adopted.
During this adjournment, a new administration was formed, under the auspices of the Marquis of Rockingham, on whose public principles and private virtues the nation seemed to repose, after the violent struggle by which it had been agitated, with the securest and most implicit confidence. The Marquis of Rockingham was appointed first lord of the treasury, the Earl of Shelburne and Mr. Fox, joint-secretaries of state, Lord Camden president of the council, Duke of Grafton privy seal, Lord John Cavendish chancellor of the exchequer, and Mr. Burke paymaster-general of the forces.
The new ministry, which stood pledged to the people for many reforms, begau immediately to put them into execution. The first object of their attention was the affairs of Ireland. A bill was passed through both houses, which, by repealing the act of the 6th George I rendered the parliament of Ireland independent of that of Great Britain. This was coupled with a resolution, “That it was essentially necessary to the mutual happiness of the two countries, that a firm and solid connection should be forthwith established by the consent of both; and that his majesty should be requested to give the proper directions for promoting the same.”
On the 5th banda Burke brought forward his great.
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and favourite plan of retrenchment in the expenditure of the civil list, by which the annual savings (and which would be yearly increasing) would amount to 72,368/. It was objected by some members, that. the bill was not so extensive as it had been originally framed; but Mr. Burke entered into the grounds of those omissions, which had been made either from a compliance with the opinions of others, or from a fuller consideration of the particular cases; at the same time he pledged himself, that he should at all times be ready to obey their call, whenever it appeared to be the general opinion of the house and of the people, to prosecute a more complete system of reform. A bill was also passed, disqualifying revenue officers from voting in the elections for members of parlament; and several other popular propositions were made and adopted.
The death of the Marquis of Rockingham, which took place on July 1, 1782, speedily dissolved the ministry, of which he alone formed the connecting link. It had been understood by Fox and Burke, that the Duke of Portland would have been nominated his successor. Great indeed was their disappointment when the Earl of Shelburne found means to procure the appointment for himself, when they considered him as having agreed that the Duke of Portland should be invested with the office, and that the plans of the Rockingham administration should be pursued. Fox and Burke immediately resigned. They not only differed with Shelburne in their opinion that the independence of America should be acknowledged; but, superior to the petty artifices of court intrigue, they viewed with contempt the mode by which their colleague had ascended to power.
Once again in opposition, Fox and Burke joined their forces in the ensuing session to those of Lord North, and attacked the general peace which had been concluded during the recess, with great force of talent and eminent success. The combined parties procured a majority in
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the house, and passed a vote of censure on the new ministry; which, after some ineffectual struggles, was compelled to retire. The Duke of Portland now became first lord of the treasury, Lord John Cavendish chancellor of the exchequer, Mr. Burke, as before, paymaster of the forces, and Mr, Fox and Lord North joint-secretaries of state, in what was called the coalition administration.
As this union of political interest was the most unpopular measure adopted in the present reign, and that which it has, above all others, been found most difficult to reconcile with purity and consistency of principle, it may be necessary to state what has been offered in apology, at least as far as Mr. Burke is concerned. It is well known to those in the least conversant in the polities which immediately preceded. this period, how uniformly Lord North was upbraided for his conduct throughout the whole course of the American war: every thing that could attach to a bad ministry was laid to his charge, except perhaps the solitary exception of corruption in his own person, which was not much, while he was continually accused of being the mover of a mass of corruption in. others; and as Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke were the two leading champions of the house of commons, in their several speeches will be found invectives of such a nature, as to men, judging of others in the ordinary habits of life, perhaps would be thought insurmountable barriers to their coalition. But we are told, that forming an administration upon a broad bottom of political interest is quite a different thing from contracting a private friendship: in the former many things are to be conceded, in regard to times and circumstances, and the opinions of others; in the latter, the question of right and wrong lies in a narrower compass, and is more readily judged of by the parties and their friends. Mr. Burke, therefore, may say, “that, in his several attacks on Lord North, he considered him as a principal promoter and encourager of the American war, a war which he held destructive of the interests and cons
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stitutional rights of this country. As a minister, therefore, he reprobated his conduct; but the American contest being over, and others measures about to be pursued, which, in his opinion, might heal the bruises of this war, he coalesced with him as a man, who (benefiting himself by his former i ale might still render important services to his country.”
Such a defence as this may very well be admitted in favour of Mr. Burke and others; but Mr. Fox stood pledged upon different grounds. He not only inveighed against the minister in the grossest terms of abuse, but
against the man; whom, he said, “he would not trust himself in a room with, and from the moment that he ever acted with him, he would rest satisfied to be termed the most infamous of men.” After such a particular declaration as this, emphatically and deliberately announced in a full house of, commons, scarce nine months had elapsed when Mr. Fox cordially united with Lord North, and brought a suspicion on his character, with regard to consistency, which all the exertions of his future life were not able toremove. In the mean time, however, the new administration bade fair for permanence. It was strong in talents, in rank, and in the weight of Janded interest. It seemed nearly such a combination of great families as Mr. Burke had wished in his “Thoughts on the Causes of the present Discontents;” but it wanted what was necessary to complete his pian,—”the approbation and confidence of the people.” Suspicion attached to all their measures, and seemed, in the opinion of the people, to be confirmed when they introduced the famous East. India bill. This is not the place for discussing the merits of this important bill; it may suffice, as matter of fact, to state that it was considered as trenching too much on the prerogative, as creating a mass of ministerial influence which would be irresistible; and that the vast powers which it gave the house of commons might render the administration too strong for the crown. Had these
VOL. 1. ee,
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objections been confined to the ex-ministers and their friends, the coalesced ministers might have repelled them, at least by force of numbers; but it was peculiarly unfortunate for Mr. Burke, Mr. Fox, and the Whig part of the administration, that they were opposed without doors by the voice of the people, and in the writings of all those authors who had the credit of being constitutional authorities. The East India bill, accordingly, although carried in the house of commons, was lost in that of the lords, and a new administration was formed in December 1783, at the head of which was Mr. Pitt.
The majority of the house of commons, however, still continuing attached to the dismissed ministers, public business was interrupted, and continued in an embarrassed state until his majesty determined to appeal to the people by a dissolution of parliament in May 1784. The issue of this was, that many of the most distinguished adherents to the coalition were rejected by their constituents, and Mr. Pitt, in the new parliament, acquired a majority quite decisive as to the common routine of business, but certainly for many years not comparable in talents to the opposition. Mr. Burke, again belonging to this class, exerted the utmost of those powers which so justly entitled him to the character he maintained in the world. To detail the progress of that, high character through all the political business he went through would be incompatible with the nature and limits of this work; his talents will be best shewn in a general and minute review of his publie life, as exemplified in his speeches, his political and other publications, and he will be found one of the greatest ornaments of the age he lived in.
A committee of the house of commons. had been appointed in 1782, of which Burke was a member, to inquire into the execution of justice in the East Indies. In the course of their researches on the subject, Burke had seen what he conceived to be disgraceful peculation, combined with rapacious avarice; and atrocities of the deepest dye,
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committed under the semblance of justice, united in the person of the governor-general. In the beginning of July 1784, he made a speech on the enormities he ascribed to Hastings; and displayed, in the picture he drew, powers which might have composed a most admirable tragedy. He brought forward a string of resolutions, as the foundation of an inquiry into the eonduct of Mr. Hastings. This, was briefly opposed by Pitt, because there was not at that time that undoubted evidence of delinquency . which alone could evince the propriety of the motion. Burke’s fancy and passions getting mach warmer from opposition, pictured to him Hastings as the greatest monster that ever cursed the earth; persisting in pressing the subject, he was at length overpowered by a loud and continual clamour. The want of effective talent on the ministerial benches, had repeatedly compelled them to have recourse to this expedient, to drown the eloquence of Burke. The dignity of conscious superiority should have rendered him indifferent to such a disturbance, instead of which he frequently fell into the most outrageous fits of passion; and once told them that he could discipline a pack of hounds to yelp with much more melody and equal comprehension.
From. this time Burke devoted the whole of his attention to this important subject; and the committee of the house having presented a report, in which they accused Hastings and Hornby with having, “in sundry instances, acted ina manner repugnant to the honour and policy of this nation,” Burke pledged himself to move an impeachment, when Hastings return should enable him to refute the charges, if false. During the recess of 1785 Hastings returned from India. On the commencement of the ensuing session, Burke was challenged by Major Scott to bring forward
-his charges. This he promised to do; and, on Feb. 17, 1786, he called the attention of the house to that subject; and the impeachment was agreed to.
It is not our intention to repeat even the heads of the
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charges against Hastings. It will be sufficient to observe, that the variety and extent of Burke’s powers were perhaps never exhibited to greater advantage than during this tedious trial. The opening speech of Burke, on the modes of bringing a public delinquent to justice, on the character and situation of the accuser, and the motives by which he ought to be actuated, exhibits at once a most extensive knowledge of the crown law of this kingdom, of the science of jurisprudence, and of ethics in general. His speech on the Rohilla war unites a most complete acquaintance with the Roman policy in the management of distant provinces, and that of modern Europe, to the wisest and most liberal principles respecting that department of government. His. eloquence, though it did not prove the points he wished to establish concerning Hastings, and was in that view a waste of genius, yet contains facts, imagery, sentiments, and philosophy, that render it delightful and estimable.
-No measure which he ever supported subjected Burke to more obloquy and abuse* than the prosecution. of Hastings. It was stated, that he was instigated to it by personal resentment against the governor-general, in consequence of his inattention to Mr. W. Burke. “That Burke,” says Dr. Bisset, “or any man, would undertake so laborious a task, which required such minuteness of investigation concerning so intricate details, the materials to be fetched from such a distance, with so great and powerful a body inimical to an inquiry, merely because his friend had been slighted, is hardly within the compass of credibility.” Yet from whatever cause it did arise, it
* Amongst numerous virulent attacks, through the medium of the public press, may be recorded the following vitriolic epigram, which the editor was assured by a lady of veracity, came from the pen of Mrs. John — Ireland:
I’ve often wonder’d that on Irish ground
‘ No venomous reptile ever could be found; But Nature, willing to perform her work, Saved all her venom to complete a BURKE.
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is certain that Burke indulged in the coarsest personal observations on Mr. Hastings, and in many violent exaggerations not founded on the slightest proof. On one occasion in particular it is stated, that, in a moment of Mr. Hastings hesitation about the ceremony of kneeling at the bar, which proceeded from accident, Burke commanded him to kneel, with a ferocity in his countenance which no painting could express.
In the debates which took place, during his majesty’s illness in 1788-9, on the settlement of a regency, Burke stood forward with an unusual degree of prominence, and in a manner which certainly did no credit either to his prudence or to his feelings. It is well known that the opinion expressed by Mr. Pitt on this occasion, was, that it remained with parliament to supply the deficiency, as in other circumstances not before provided for by the existing laws. Fox, on the other side, contended, that during this incapacity, there was virtually a demise of the crown; and that therefore the next heir should assume the powers of government, while the incapacity continued. Burke’s intimate connection with the prince, the interest of his friends, and no doubt also his own hopes of again coming into office, led him to support this latter opinion. But the warmth with which he contended, and particularly the indecent and cruel expressions which burst from him respecting his majesty, created a more general dislike to his character than had hitherto been entertained, and occasioned a feeling in the house more formidable to his friends than to the minister;whom they opposed.
His biographer, whose object it is to exhibit him to the world as perfectly consistent in his public character, appears to have been desirous to cast a veil over this part of his history.. Yet, as it exhibits, perhaps, more charac~ teristic features of the man as well as the politician, than any other action of his life, we have thought it improper to avoid noticing it. And when we consider, that this violence of temper and passion were exercised on the
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illustrious personage to whom, in a very few years, he was gratefully to acknowledge his obligation for the independence and comfort of his latter days, we cannot be surprised that those who intend an uniform and unqualified panegyric on his public life, wish to suppress his conduct during this memorable period.
We have now arrived. at the last and most important era of the life of Burke, when at once dissolving almost every connection of his former life, he threw himself into the arms of those whom he had uniformly and vehemently opposed. The revolution which was taking place in France was hailed by Fox as the dawn of returning liberty and justice, while Burke regarded it as the meteoric glare of anarchy and ruin. In a debate on the army estimates for 1790, adverting to the revolution in France, Fox considered that event as a reason for rendering a smaller military establishment necessary on our part: “The new form,” he said, “that the government of France was likely to assume, would, he was persuaded, make her a better neighbour, and less propense to hostility, than when she was subject to the cabal and intrigues of ambitious and interested statesmen.” .
Burke soon after delivered his sentiments on the subject. Fully coinciding with Fox respecting the evils of the old despotism, and the dangers that accrued from it to this country, he thought very differently of the tranquillity to neighbours and happiness to themselves, likely to ensue from the late proceedings in France. Warming, as he advanced in the argument, he observed, “In the last age we had been in danger of being entangled, by the example of France, in the net of relentless despotism, Our present danger, from the model of a people whose character knew no medium, was that of being led through an admiration of successful fraud and violence, to imitate the excesses of an irrational, unprincipled, proscribing,:confiscating, plundering, ferocious, bloody, and tyrannical democracy.”
Sheridan expressed his disapprobation of the remarks
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and reasonings of Burke on this subject, with much force. He thought them quite inconsistent with the general principles and conduct of one who so highly valued the British government and revolution: “The National Assembly,” he said, “had exerted a firmness and perseverance, hitherto unexampled, that had secured the liberty of France, and vindicated the cause of mankind. What action of theirs authorised the appellation of a bloody, ferocious, and tyrannical democracy?” Burke, perceiving Sheridan’s view of affairs in France, differed entirely from him, and thinking his friend’s construction of his observations uncandid, declared, that Mr. Sheridan and he were from that moment separated for ever in politics. “Mr. Sheridan,” he said, “has sacrificed my friendship in exchange for the applause of clubs and associations: I assure him he will find the acquisition too insignificant to be worth the price at which it is purchased.”
The sentiments and opinions declared in the house of commons by Messrs. Fox and Sheridan, induced Burke to publish his “‘ Reflections on the French Revolution,” in a more enlarged form, and more closely to contemplate its probable influence on British minds. To account for his apparent change of opinion on the subject of civil liberty, he informs us in his Reflections, that he was endeavouring to “preserve consistency by varying his means to secure the unity of his end; and when the equipoise of the vessel in which he sails, may be in danger of overloading upon one side, is desirous of carrying the small eae of his reasons to that which may preserve the equipoise.”,
In the session of 1790, he adhered uniformly to the sentiments which he had avowed in his discussions with Fox and Sheridan, identifying the whole body of the dissenters with Drs. Priestley and Price, and therefore looking upon them as the friends of the French revolution and the propagators of its principles in this country. He opposed a motion for the repeal of the test act, a measure which he had, at a former period, strenuously advocated,
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He also opposed a motion for reform in parliament. At this time Mr. Fox and he still continued in terms of friendship, though they did not frequently meet; but when, in 1791, a bill was proposed for the formation of a constitution in Canada, Burke, in the course of the discussion, entered on the general principle of the rights of man, proceeded to its offspring the constitution of France, and expressed his conviction, that there was a design formed in this country against its constitution. After some of the members of his own party had called Mr. Burke to order, Mr. Fox spoke, and, after declaring his conviction, that the British constitution, though defective in theory, was in practice excellently adapted to this country, repeated his praises of the French revolution, which, he thought, on the whole, one of the most glorious events in the history of mankind. He then proceeded to express his dissent from Burke’s opinions on the subject, as inconsistent with just views of the inherent rights of mankind. These besides, he said, were inconsistent with Mr. Burke’s former principles.:
Burke, in reply, complained of having been treated by Fox with harshness and malignity; and, after defending his opinions with regard to the new system pursued in France, denied the charge of inconsistency, and insisted that his opinions on government had been the same during all his political life, He said that Mr. Fox and he had often differed, and there had been no loss of friendship between them, but-there is something in the cursed French revolution that envenoms every thing. Fox whispered, “there is no loss of friendship between us.” Burke, with great warmth, answered, “There is! I know the price of my conduct; our friendship is at an end.” Mr. Fox was very greatly agitated by this renunciation of friendship, and made many concessions, but still maintained that Burke had formerly held very different principles, and that he himself had learned from him those principles which he now reprobated, at the same time enforcing the allega
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tion, by references to measures which Burke had either proposed or promoted, and by many apposite quotations from his speeches. This repetition of the charge of inconsistency prevented the impression which his affectionate and conciliating language and behaviour might otherwise have made on Burke, “It would be. difficult,” says Dr. Bisset, “to determine with certainty whether. constitutional irritability or public principle was the chief cause of Burke’s sacrifice of that friendship which he had so Jong cherished, and of which the talents and qualifications of its object rendered him so worthy.” Another reason has been assigned, which might, perhaps, have had some weight in this determination. It is stated, that an observation of Fox, on the “Reflections,” that they were rather to be regarded-as an effusion of poetic genius, than a philosophical investigation, had reached Burke’s ears; a remark which mortified him as an author, and displeased him asa friend. Be this as it may, from the time of this debate, he remained at complete variance with Mr. Fox, and even treated him with great asperity in some of his subsequent publications.
Some days after this discussion, the following paragraph appeared in the Morning Chronicle: “The great and firm body of the Whigs of England have decided on the dispute between Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke; and the former is declared to have maintained the pure doctrines by which they are bound together, and upon which they have invariably acted. The consequence is, that Mr. Burke retires from. parliament.” After this consignation to retirement, Mr. Burke no longer took any prominent part:in the proceedings of parliament, except with regard to the French revolution and the prosecution of Hastings, which being terminated by the acquittal of that gentleman in the summer of 1794, he soon after resigned his seat, and retired to his villa at Beaconsfield, where, on the 2nd of August in the same year, he met with a severe domestic calamity, in the death of his only.son. In the beginning of the year he
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also lost his brother Richard; but though this reiterated stroke of death deeply affected him, it neither relaxed the vigour of his mind, nor lessened the interest which he took in public affairs.
Soon after the death of his son, his majesty bestowed on him a pension of 1200/. for his own life and that of his wife, charged on the civil list, and two other pensions of 2500/. for three lives, payable out of the four and a half per cent. These gifts were represented as a reward for having changed his principles, and deserted his friends, and drew down some severe censures from Lord Lauderdale and the Duke of Bedford. These he repelled in a “Letter to a noble Lord,” in which he gives a sketch of his political life, and of the beneficial measures in which he had been engaged. Not content, however, with vindicating his own claim toa pension, he gives a retrospective view of the means by which the Duke of Bedford’s ancestors acquired their property. This account of the Russell acquirements is generally conceived to be erroneous, and can only be attributed to irritation and anger at the censure passed by that nobleman, on what he regarded as a squandering of the public money.
When the appearance of melioration in the principles and government of France, induced his majesty to make overtures for peace to the French Directory, Burke resumed his pen, and, in his “Thoughts on the Prospect of a Regicide Peace,” expressed himself strongly against the safety of such a measure. This was his last work, and in point of style and reasoning, not inferior to any he had produced on the subject of the French character and government.
From the beginning of June 1797, his health rapidly declined; but his understanding exerted itself with undiminished force, and uncontracted range. On 7th July, he spent the morning in a recapitulation of the most important actions of his life, the circumstances in which he acted, and the motives by which he was prompted. Dvwel
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ling particularly on the French revolution, and on the separation from admired friends, he spoke with pleasure of the conscious rectitude of his intentions; and entreated that, if any unguarded asperity of his had offended them, to believe that no offence was intended. On the following day, while one of his friends, with the assistance of his servants, was carrying him into another room, he faintly uttered “God bless you!” fell back, and instantly expired in the sixty-eighth year of his age.
In this sketch of the life of Edmund Burke, it has been impossible to insert even the titles of his numerous publications. They have been since published entire by his executors Drs. King and Lawrence, in five vols. 4to. and twelve vols. 8vo. and will ever form a stupendous monument of his great and unrivalled talents. By. the political student, however, they will require to be read with a considerable portion of that judgment which, in the author, was frequently paralysed by the rapidity of his ideas, and the bewitching seductions of his imagination.
In-his person, Burke was about five feet ten inches high, erect, and well formed; with a countenance rather soft and open, which, except by an occasional bend of his brow, caused by his being near-sighted, indicated none of those great traits of mind which he possessed. The best print of him is from a half-length by Sir Joshua Reynolds, painted when he was in the meridian of life.
An opinion has been very prevalent, that Sir Iwi Reynolds lectures were written by Burke,—but whoever will compare these discourses with the Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, will find their theories of beauty to have been by no means the same. According to Burke, comparative smallness, smoothness, variety in the direction of their parts, freedom from angularity in their parts, delicacy of construction, clearness and brightness, colour without-glare,—these are.the constituents of beauty.
In this enumeration, Burke has omitted one great constituent of beauty, infinitely more important than all he
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has laid down—this principle Reynolds has supplied. It must have occurred to the readers of the Sublime and Beautiful, that the elements of Burke are not sufficiently defined to deserve the name of principles. Such phrases as “delicacy of construction,” “clearness and brightness of colour without glare,” “variety of direction in the parts,” are too pliable to be made weapons of philosophical controversy. It might also be objected, that it would be possible to construct something in which all these constituents should be found, and which would at the same time produce no effect of beauty in the mind of the beholder. At. might also be said that beautiful objects may be found in which one, or even several of Burke’s principles are violated. What is more beautiful than the broad expanse of clear sky? and yet there is no “comparative smallness” in it. Are the willows arching over a river, and dipping their leaves in the stream, the broad water-plants fioating on its surface, and the fragments of rock which ruffle the course of its waters, destructive of its beauty, by injuring its smoothness? Is there nothing beautiful in the form of a sphere, though it has but little “variation in the direction of its parts?” Would Burke have bent the “angles” of the larch fir, into curves; or would he have thought he had improved the beauty of the oak, by remodelling its form to correspond with the delicate construction of the acacia? If there be beauty in the “clear bright colours” of noon, is there nothing to.admire in the calm and sober shades of twilight? These are objections which would naturally strike the mind of an artist, and accordingly the whole tenour of the lectures is in opposition to that reckless devotion to analysis, which could alone have led Burke into such a narrow system.
Accordingly in the theory of beauty which is laid down in Sir Joshua Reynolds third discourse, we find no reference to the elements of Burke. Beauty is there defined to consist in an abstraction of all that is singular, local, and peculiar in nature. “That individual is most beautiful
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which approaches nearest to what we may be allowed to call the average form of the species to which it belongs.
“It may be objected,” says he, “that in every particular species there are various central forms, which are separate and distinct from each other, and yet are undeniably beautiful; that in the human figure, for instance, . the beauty of Hercules is one, of the Gladiator another, of the Apollo another; which makes so many different ideas of beauty.
“Tt id true, indeed, that these iiss are each perfect in their kind, though of different characters and proportions; but still none of them is the representation of an individual, but of a class. And as there is one general form, which, as I have said, belongs to the human kind at large, so in each of these classes there is one common idea and central form, which is the abstract of the various individual forms belonging to that class. Thus, though the forms of childhood and age differ exceedingly, there is a common form in childhood, and a common form in age, which is the more perfect, as it is more remote from all peculiarities. But must add further, that though the most perfect forms of each of the general divisions of the human figure are ideal, and superior to any individual form of that class; yet the highest perfection of the human figure is not to be found in any one of them. It is notin the Hercules, nor in the Gladiator, nor in the Apollo; but in that form which is taken from them all, and which partakes equally of the activity of the Gladiator, of the delicacy of the Apollo, and of the muscular strength of the Hercules. For perfect beauty in any species must combine all the characters which are beautiful in that species. It cannot consist in any one to the exclusion of the rest: no one, therefore, must be predominant, that no one may be deficient.”
The discourse from which the foregoing extract has been taken, was delivered in the year 1770. Perhaps it might be objected, that Burke may have revised his theory
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in the thirteen years which then had elapsed since his publication, and might have taken that opportunity of correcting his error. Such a supposition is improbable on many grounds; but we have evidence which will go near to prove it false, and shew, that soon after the publication of Burke’s Essay, Reynolds Theory of Beauty was already formed. In the eighty-second number of the Idler, published in November 1759, which was allowedly written by Sir Joshua, the same doctrines are maintained with even more ability than in his lectures, and some passages in this article seem specially directed against the Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, which had then been before the public only two years, and would naturally be adverted to in any discussion connected with the subject on which it treats: “Whoever shall attempt to prove, (says he,) that a form is beautiful from a particular gradation of magnitude, undulation of a curve, or direction of a line, or whatever other conceit of his imagination, he shall fix on as a criterion of form, he will be continually contradicting himself, and find at last, that the great mother nature will not be subjected to such narrow rules.” (vol. ii. page 239.)
If to this internal evidence we add the external proof furnished by Mr. Burke’s unequivocal disavowal, and Malone’s very satisfactory statement, we hope the question will sit at rest. Perhaps it was not worthy so minute an investigation; but if posthumous reputation be the reward which has called forth the most important services mankind has received, we are all interested in shewing, that whatever it may want in substance, it shall, at least be rendered as certain as the imperfect state of human discrimination will admit.
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RICHARD BURKE.
Of this gentleman whose powers of pleasing in private life, were no less distinguished than those of his celebrated brother Edmund, we regret that we have been able to obtain but few pavticulars. His fame rests principally on his wit, which peculiarly excelled in repartees, delivered with a humorous quaintness, that gave additional poignancy to the sentiment, and many of which have been frequently retailed as proceeding from his brother. He was educated to the profession of the law, in which he became a barrister, but does not appear ever to have attained any height in this pursuit, as he was probably contented with the moderate salaries of those situations to which he was appointed through the interest of his brother. In Barry’s Letters, we find a grateful remembrance of the kindness which he experienced from Richard Burke during a visit made by that gentleman to Paris in 1767, while Barry remained in that capital; and shortly after his return from the continent, he had the misfortune to break both bones of his leg in two places, by a fall in the street; a circumstance which is humorously alluded to by Goldsmith, as a just punishment for the jests he had broken on others. He was at different times collector of Grenada, and recorder of Bristol, which last office he retained till his death, which happened February 5,1794. He had supped with his brother Edmund, and another relation, in Duke Street, St. James’s, on the preceding evening, and appeared in excellent health and spirits; at twelve o’clock he was carried home in a coach to his chambers in Lincoln’s Inn, where he was soon after taken ill, and expired before three in the morning.
His easy humour and familiar good-nature, procured for him the appellation of Dick Burke; and his understanding, though far inferior to the transcendant [sic] powers of that of his brother, was highly respectable and fraught
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with various and abundant knowledge. We are not aware that he at any time distinguished himself in the literary world, his only published remains which we are acquainted with, being two letters to Barry, inserted in the works of that artist; and which, though on common-place subjects, bear evident testimony to the justice of that character which declares his disposition to have been generous, humane, and friendly. a The following lines, forming a part of the humorous retaliation of Goldsmith, contains so whimsical a character of Richard Burke, that we cannot refrain inserting them:
“Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at;
Alas! that such frolic should now be so quiet!
What spirits were his! what wit, and what whim!
Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb!
Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball!
Now teazing and vexing, yet laughing at all!
In short, so provoking a devil was Dick,
‘That we wished him full ten times a day at old Nick;
But, missing his mirth and agreeable vein,
As often we wished to have Dick back again.”
WALTER BURKE
Was a native of Limerick, and at the time of his death was one of the oldest pursers in the navy, which profession he entered under the protection of his kinsman, the late Edmund Burke, and served upwards of thirty years, during which period he was present at the most decisive engagements, and closed his naval career on the memorable 21st of October, 1805, when he had the honour to support his much-loved commander, the immortal Nelson, in his dying moments. He was then purser of the Victory, and was much esteemed by his lordship, and so great was his veneration for his admiral, that he would never serve afloat after that day.
To him, almost the last words of his lordship. previous to the battle were addressed: “Burke,” said he, “I expect
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to see every man in his station, and if we succeed to-day, you and I will go to sea no more.” . He died at Wouldham, near Rochester, in January 1816, at the advanced age of seventy-six. There is a good likeness of him to be found in West’s picture of the death of Nelson.
The unfortunate, but gallant Captain Burke, of the Seagull, with a younger brother (both of whom foundered in that ship) were his sons; and also Lieut. Burke, of the Mars, who was mortally wounded in cutting out La Chevrette, and succeeded by boarding her after receiving his mortal wound,
JOHN BURNS
Was born in the town of Monaghan, about the commencement of the last century. He was deaf and dumb from his birth, but discovering a strong natural capacity, was taught to read and write, and speedily acquired a considerable knowledge of arithmetic, geography, history, and chronology. In the humblest circumstances, he commenced life as a pedlar, with a few shillings, which he improved into a considerable sum, and became a shopkeeper. He was, however, unfortunate; he became a bankrupt, and was cast into prison. From hence he was liberated, and paid the full amount of his debts, by his literary talents. His misfortunes and abilities had attracted the notice of the eccentric and benevolent Philip Skelton, under whose patronage he composed, at an advanced period of life, “An Historical and Chronological Remembrancer,” which was published by subscription in Dublin, by William Watson, in 1775. It contains five hundred pages of curious matter, and appears a surprising intellectual effort of a man born with his infirmities.
ALEXANDER SAUNDERSON BURROWES
Was a brave naval officer, who fell gloriously in the arms of victory. He was the third son of Alexander Burrowes,
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Esq. of the county of Cavan, and had been but a few months promoted to the command of “The Constance,” a frigate of twenty-two guns. He was also made commodore of a small flying squadron, under Sir James Saumarez, on the Jersey station, for the purpose of scouring the Channel in that quarter. The squadron consisted of the Constance (flag-ship), the Strenuous, Sharpshooter, Sheldrake, and one or two other light vessels. On the 12th October, 1806, they weighed from their anchorage at Chaney, and on standing in to reconnoitre St. Maloes, a sail was discovered off Cape Frihol, to which the squadron gave chace [sic]; it was soon discovered by her manoeuvres the chase was an enemy, who about noon succeeded in getting into Bouche D’Arkie, hauling close in with the rocks, and making every preparation for an obstinate defence; she was covered by a strong battery of guns on the hill, as well as field-pieces and musquetry employed by the troops brought down for that purpose. After a desperate and sanguinary conflict, in which Captain Burrowes was slain by a grape-shot in the heat of the action, she was taken, and proved to be “La Salamandre,” a French frigate.
An officer of greater gallantry and enterprise could not have been chosen for the active service in which he was engaged. He was in his thirty-ninth year, twenty-five of which had been devoted to the service of his. country. His merit was his only recommendation, and had his life been longer spared, he would probably have ranked among the most splendid warriors of the British navy.
JAMES BUTLER
THE FOURTH EARL OF ORMONDE, was equally distinguished by his learning and attention to literature in an age when such qualities were rarely the companions of wealth or rank. He was under age when he succeeded to the title and estates by the death of his father, and on his return into Ireland, he accompanied the lord deputy Scrope in his invasion of the territory of M’Murrough,
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when that numerous and powerful sept were completely routed, and O’Nolan, with his son, and many others, made prisoners. During this excursion, on the receipt of - intelligence that Walter de Burge, and OfCarroll had ravaged the county of Kilkenny, they marched with such expedition to Callan that they surprised the rebels, and completely defeated them with the slaughter of eight hundred men. At the termination .of this successful campaign, in 1407; he returned to Dublin; when he was appointed lord deputy of Ireland, although he was yet a minor; and a parliament which he held there confirmed the statutes of Kilkenny and Dublin, together with the charter granted under the great seal of England. He afterwards stood godfather with the Earl of Desmond, to George Plantagenet, the unfortunate Duke of Clarence, who was born in Dublin. In 1412 he accompanied Thomas of Lancaster into France, in which year Henry V. mounting the throne, he was received with great favour by him; and returned to Ireland in 1419, with the appointment of lord-lieutenant from that victorious monarch, by virtue of a more ample commission than had been granted to any of his predecessors. He shortly after convened a parliament, which granted a large supply to the king, and conferred on himself a pecuniary recompence for his activity and zeal for the public benefit. He now attacked O’Reilly, and compelled him to sue for peace; and turning his arms against M’Murrough, who at that time made all Leinster tremble, completely reduced his formidable power. These signal successes rendered him equally dreaded and hated by the natives, and in 1421 a dreadful slaughter was committed on his family near the monastery of Leys, twenty-seven being slain, and a considerable number taken prisoners. Incensed at this outrage, he immediately levied a body of troops, and invading the territories of Leys, compelled the aggressors to sue for peace, and to make ample compensation for the damages they had committed. On the decease of Henry V in 1422, his lordship was
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continued in the government until the arrival of Edmond Mortimer, Earl of March, who, in 1424, appointed him his deputy. In 1426 he was knighted, together with the young king, Henry VI by the Duke of Bedford, the King’s uncle, who was then regent. In the following year he attacked Gerald O’Cavenagh, who had collected a number of forces for the purpose of invading the Pale, and caused him to forego his intention. In 1440 he was again appointed lord-lieutenant, and afterwards lord deputy, and obtained a grant, for ten years, of the temporalities of the archbishopric of Cashel. In 1444 he assembled at Drogheda many of the privy council and nobility of the Pale, and informed them, that having filled the office of chief governor, for upwards of three years, the king had commanded him to repair immediately to England without delay or excuse; he therefore requested of them, that they would declare in the presence of the king’s messenger, whether he had committed, during his government, any extortion contrary to the laws, or been remiss in their execution. After a full consideration of his conduct, Sir James Allen declared, that no one could complain of him, but all were thankful to him for his good and gracious government; for the pains he had taken in defence of the land, in which he had undergone great and continual labours; and had also, in addition to the allowance of the government, expended much of his private property in the execution of his duties. It was thereupon agreed, that if he were then to leave the country, his life would be exposed to great danger; and they-therefore dispatched a messenger to the king, requesting a safe conduct for him, and representing that there was an extensive confederacy to destroy his loyal subjects, and that it would be a great comfort to them, and confusion to their enemies, if his majesty should not insist on the Earl of Ormonde’s attendance at court until after the harvest. On this representation the king dispensed with his attendance in England; but two years afterwards, on a petition of several lords, stating “that he was old and feeble, and had Jost many of his old castles for want
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of defence, and therefore was not likely to maintain, much less enlarge, the king’s possessions in Ireland;” he was dismissed, though most of the barons and clergy of Ireland joined in a full testimonial of his services. In the following year he was accused of high treason by the Earl of Shrewsbury, then lord-lieutenant, before the Duke of Norfolk, in the Marshal’s Court. The king, however, influenced by the above testimonial, put a stop to proceedings; and examining the cause himself, was so fully convinced of the maliciousness of its origin, that he declared by patent,”That the Earl of Ormonde was faithful in his allegiance; meritorious in his services, and untainted in his fame; that no one should dare, on pain of his. indignation, to revive the accusation, or reproach his conduct; and that his accusers were men of no credit, nor should their testimony be admitted in any case.” A writ, reciting which, signed by his mortal enemy, Richard, archbishop of Dublin, deputy to. his brother Shrewsbury, was sent to the magistrates of Limerick and other towns, to cause proclamation thereof to be made throughout the kingdom. After so signal a victory over the malice of his accusers, he appears to have retired entirely from public life until 1452, when he undertook an expedition against Connor O’Mulrian; on his return from which, on 23rd August, he died at Ardee, and was buried in St. Mary’s Abbey, near Dublin. He was celebrated as a great lover of antiquities, and during his residence in France, Henry V. at his recommendation, first created a king of arms in Ireland, to which office he appointed John Kiteley, herald in England, by the title of Ireland king of arms. He also gave lands to the College of Heralds, for which, till the Reformation, he was prayed for in all their public meetings; and has since been constantly remembered. as a special. benefactor.
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RICHARD BUTLER
THIRD VISCOUNT MOUNTGARRET, a nobleman of eminent virtues, and celebrated in the history of Ireland for his conduct in the rebellion of 1641, was the eldest son of Edmond, the second Viscount Mountgarret. He married Margaret, the daughter of Hugh O’Neal, Earl of Tyrone, in whose rebellion he engaged in 1599, and defended the castles of Ballyraggett and Cullihill, at the head of his own dependants, with great bravery and skill.
He was afterwards reconciled to the government, and succeeded to his paternal estates on the decease of his father in 1605, after which time his lordship constantly took his seat as a peer of parliament. On the commencement of: the great rebellion in 1641, his lordship was joined in commission with the Earl of Ormonde in the government of the county of Kilkenny; which afterwards, on the advancement of Ormonde to the command of the army, devolved upon him alone. A report, however, which was promulgated at the commencement of 1642, of the determination of the council to extirpate the religion of the church of Rome and its professors, induced him to take up arms, and embark himself and his family in a firm and decided opposition to a step which appeared so destructive to his religion and interest; a design which was much facilitated by his family connections, which extended to most of the principal inhabitants of the county of Kilkenny, who were readily induced by his persuasions to join him in his endeavours. Attended by a numerous train he advanced to the city of Kilkenny, which he took possession of, and issued a proclamation, strictly enjoining all his followers, neither to pillage nor hurt the English inhabitants, either in body or goods; a precaution essentially necessary, and which had the effect of preventing any excesses. A more arduous situation than that which his lordship occupied, can hardly be imagined; the leader of a popular commotion, composed of such various materials,
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and resolved to control the exercise of their almost ungovernable passion for revenge on their persecutors. His humanity prompted him to preserve the protestants, and alleviate their distresses; while he was. continually harassed by the opposite party to proceed with severity against them. A petition was presented to him by the captain of the Irish town of Kilkenny, and the aldermen, requesting him to punish Philip Purcell, Esq. his son-inlaw, for relieving the protestants; and on a subsequent occasion, a petition from the titular bishop of Cashel, Six Turlogh O’Neile and others, requesting that the English protestants of Kilkenny should be put to death, was thwarted solely. by the persuasions and power of Lord Mountgarret, his son Edmond, and his son-in-law, Purcell. His popularity at this time was so great, that within a week from his arrival at Kilkenny, almost all the towns and forts in the counties of Kilkenny, Waterford, and Tipperary, were in the possession of his friends. He was now chosen general of all the forces of that district, with which he marched into Munster, where he besieged and took several castles of great importance: but the county of Cork insisting upon appointing a general in their own province, he conceived this resolution was aimed principally at himself, and retired with his forces into Leinster; where he met the Earl of Ormonde with a powerful army, and gave him battle at Kilrush, in the county of Kildare, on 10th April, 1642. In this battle he, was completely defeated; which compelled him to retire with the remains of his scattered forces to Kilkenny, where he was elected president of the supreme council which was formed there in 1642. Inthe following year he again took the field, and was present at several sieges; particularly at that of Ballynakill, which surrendered in May 1643, after a siege of nearly eighteen months. He continued to act throughout the whole of the war, and was particularly distinguished by his great moderation and care of the protestants, who found in him a steady and powerful protector from the misguided zeal of some of his associates. He
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died in 1653, and was buried in the chancel of St. Canice church.
Various as the dispositions of men, and the accidents of their fortunes, are the motives which induce them to engage in those great political convulsions, which form the terror of the age in which they exist, and constitute the most prominent features in the history of nations. Actuated by personal motives, revenge, or ambition, many are induced to take up arms; while others are influenced by political or religious bigotry; and some few, more enlightened, engage themselves and their property in the public service, for the purpose of securing to their countrymen their rights as men and as citizens. In what are termed the rebellions of Ireland, all these incentives no doubt had their full weight; and to these are superadded, a national animosity which burnt high in the breasts of the lineal descendants from the ancient kings of the country, who could not, with calmness, behold themselves dependant on the will of a nation which they regarded as inferior to themselves, and base in its origin. In engaging in the rebellion of Tyrone, Mountgarret probably felt with some force the animating influence of this powerful motive; the flame, though smothered, continued still to burn in his bosom; and when he saw the distresses, privations, and almost ignominy to which the professors of the ancient religion were exposed, and beheld the errors and insolence of the government, and of those who were entrusted with the execution of its commands, he became, what was termed, a rebel, from principle: but, in his anxiety to alleviate the distresses of his country, he refrained from adding to those of his political opponents, and never, even in the heat of action, forgot for a moment the dictates of the most christian charity.
THOMAS BUTLER,
EARL of OSSORY, is a name that fills an important space in the list of those, who, in different ages, have
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embraced the profession of arms, with every difficulty and danger attached to it, arising entirely from a spirit of enterprise and gallantry implanted in them by nature, and a desire of no other recompence for their services, than the just applause of their countrymen, and the enrolling their names on the banners of fame. He was the eldest son of the celebrated James, Duke of Ormonde, and was born in the castle of Kilkenny, on the 9th of July, 1634. After having received an excellent education both in England and France, he resided with his mother in London, where, by his talents and modesty, he gained the esteem of persons of all ranks, which excited the jealousy of Cromwell, that, on some pretence, he committed him to the Tower, where he was confined near eight montis, when falling ill of a fever which threatened his life, Cromwell, with great difficulty, consented to his discharge; and his physicians being of opinion, that a change of air and climate might re-establish his health, he withdrew into Flanders, and from thence to Holland, where he married Lady Emilia Nassau, daughter of Lord Beserweest, a nobleman of the first rank. At the Restoration, he attended the king to England; and in 1662 was made lieutenant-general of horse, and succeeded the Earl of Montrath in his regiment of foot and troop of horse. On the 22nd of June in the same year, he was called, by writ, to the house of lords in Ireland, and on the 16th of August, 1665, he was appointed lieutenant-general of the army in that kingdom. His entrance into the naval service was marked with that intrepidity and thorough contempt of danger, which was ever apparent in all his actions. On his return from Ireland, in May 1666, he paid a visit to the Earl of Arlington, at Euston, in Suffolk. The long engagement between the Duke of Albemarle and the Dutch, commenced on the morning of the Ist of June, and the earl, informed of this event by the report of the cannon, repaired instantly to Harwich, where he embarked the same night with Sir Thomas Clifford, in search of the duke, under whom he intended to enrol himself as a
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volunteer. He was fortunate enough to reach the fleet on the evening of the second, and was a welcome guest, as he carried information to the duke, who was retreating from the very superior force of the Dutch, that Prince Rupert was hastening to his assistance, and might be hourly expected. He had his share in the glorious actions of that and the succeeding day; and King Charles justly thought this singular attention to the interest and service of his country so meritorious, that after his return from the fleet (on board of which he continued till the end of August) he was summoned by writ to the house of peers, by the title of Lord Butler, of Moor Park, on the 14th of September, 1666. He was likewise sworn one of the privy council, being then one of the lords of the bedchamber, by his father’s resignation. He had not sat six weeks in the house, before he called the Duke of Buckingham to account, for saying, on the debate on the bill for prohibiting the importation of Irish cattle, that none were against it but such as had Irish estates or Irish understandings. Lord Butler challenged him, and they were to have met the next day, in Chelsea Fields; but in his stead, about three hours after the time, came an officer with a guard, to secure him, and the duke would have shared the same fate, had he not fortunately kept out of the way. The next morning his grace complained to the house of lords, of a breach of privilege, which produced a fresh dispute with the Earl of Arlington. As soon as the king was informed. of this complaint, he gave orders that the Earl of Ossory should be released, who, on the instant of his liberation, went direct to the house of lords to make his defence, which, however, did not prevent his being sent to the Tower; and the Duke of Buckingham was committed to the custody of the usher of the black rod, but in two days they were both released.
In October 1670, he was sent to Holland, to bring oyer the Prince of Orange. At the close of the same year, perceiving the Duke of Buckingham standing by the king, he went boldly up to him, and spoke as follows:
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“My Lord
I know well that you are at the bottom of this attempt of Blood’s upon my father, and if he comes to a violent, end, by any means, I shall consider you as the assassin, and shall pistol you, though you stood behind the king’s chair, and I´ll tell it you in his majesty’s presence, that you may be sure I shall keep my word.”
In 1672 he had the command of the Resolution, a third-rate man of war, and was second in command of the small squadron under Sir Robert Holmes, which attacked the Dutch Smyrna fleet, in the month of March in that year., On this occasion he displayed his usual gallantry, and was, in consequence, honoured with the highest encomiums. From the Resolution he was advanced to the Victory, and, on the 28th May, 1673, was in the action off Southwold Bay, where he displayed, in an eminent degree, both skill and courage, and as one of the seconds of the Duke of York (who is admitted .by all parties, to have behaved most gallantly), he accompanied him through all his dangers, when deserted by the French, and attacked by the united squadrons of De Ruyter and Banckert.
On the 30th of September he was elected knight of the garter, and in the November following, he went as envoy-extraordinary to France, with compliments of condolence on the death of the Duke of Anjou. Early in the month of May 1673, he was promoted to the rank of rear-admiral of the blue squadron, by the special appointment of Charles II who, thinking it necessary to make some apology to the rest of the service, for raising so young an officer to so high a post, declared he did it in consequence of the high esteem he entertained of the many signal services performed by the earl on many occasions, as well in his conduct during the preceding summer, as at other times. He served in this station during the two engagements that took place between Prince Rupert and the Dutch, on the 28th of May and the 4th of June. Having hoisted his flag on board the St. Michael, he was very soon afterwards promoted to be vice-admiral of the red; and it was to the galJantry of the Earl of Ossory, that the “Royal Prince” was
284. BUTLER.
indebted for her preservation, after she was so completely disabled, so as to compel Sir Edward Spragge, whose flag was on board her, to quit her and go on board the St. George, shattered as she was. He, however, contrived to bring her off in tow at night, and then joined Prince Rupert’s squadron. Upon this his lordship was promoted to the rank of rear-admiral of the red, and on the 10th of September, he displayed the union flag, as commander-in-chief of the whole fleet in the absence of Prince Rupert, by the king’s special command. With this honourable appointment his naval services closed; peace taking place with the United Provinces soon after.
His lordship had equally the confidence of the Duke of York and of the king; and this in their private as well as public concerns, as appears from his being the only nobleman trusted with the secret of the duke’s first marriage, and the person who actually gave Mrs. Anne Hyde away. In 1674 he was sent to Flanders, to accelerate the marriage of the Lady Mary to the Prince of Orange. And in 1675 he was made one of the lords commissioners of the admiralty.
It is curious to observe, with what magic the different interests of political states convert the most inveterate enemies of yesterday, into the most strenuous supporters on the morrow. The earl, who so lately, in alliance with the French, had exerted his talents and bravery in opposition to the United Provinces, now assumed a military command in their defence, and fought against his former colleagues. He was appointed general-in-chief of his majesty’s forces in the service of his Highness the Prince of Orange, and the states of the United Provinces; and upon the appearance of a battle, had the post of honour given him, with a command of six thousand men. In the
* “The great aim of the Dutch admiral was to sink or take the Royal Prince, but the Earl of Ossory and Sir John Kepthorne, together with Spragge himself, so effectually protected the disabled vessel, that none of the enemy’s fire-ships could come near her, though this was often attempted.”
CAMPBELL.
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commencement of the year 1678, he took upon himself the command of the British subjects in the pay of the States, and at the close of the war was continued in his command with extraordinary marks of honour from the States-general. {n the progress of the campaign that followed, he greatly distinguished himself, especially at the battle of Mons, fought on the 3rd of August, wherein he commanded the English troops, and by his skill and courage, contributed so much to the retreat Marshal Luxemburg was obliged to make, that the States of Holland, the governor of the Low Countries, and even his catholic majesty himself thought fit, in a letter under his hand, to. acknowledge the great services he performed in that action*.
He returned to England on the 13th of September, 1678, but did not long live to enjoy the high reputation he had gained in his new occupation. He was attacked by a violent fever in the month of July 1680, which, after a few days illness, put a period to his existence on the 30th of the same month, in the forty-sixth year of his age, and on the following evening (fearful of infection) his body was deposited in Westminster Abbey.
His eminent loyalty and forward zeal on all occasions, to serve his country and his sovereign, was evinced by a long series of brave and perilous services, which, as they rendered him both honoured and esteemed when living, caused him, when dead, to be both pitied and lamented,
Nor were his talents less in the senate than on the ocean, or in the field. His speech, addressed to the Earl of Shaftesbury, in vindication of his father, the Duke of Ormonde, possessed. so much vigour of language, and was so energetically delivered, that it even confounded that
* Extract of a letter from St. Denis, dated August 15, N. S.
“The Earl of Ossory, with the regiments of the king of England’s subjects under his command, was engaged in the attack on the side of Castleham, in which, as well the officers as common soldiers, in emulation of his lordship’s example, who always charged with them, behaved themselves with the greatest courage and bravery.”
Ina letter from the Hague, written on the same occasion, is the following expression, “The Earl of Ossory and his troops did wonders.”
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intrepid orator, and was so universally admired, that it was transmitted to Holland, and there translated into Dutch, upon which the Prince of Orange, as a mark of his high esteem for the Earl of Ossory, wrote his lordship-a commendatory letter.
His generosity was like his talents—almost fabless but at the same time exerted to noble purposes, and on proper occasions. When he was commander-in-chief of the English brigade, and had the naming of the officers of six regiments, he evinced his disinterestedness in preferring none but men of merit, and, at the same time, directed his secretary (Mr. Ellis) to take nothing for their commissions; and as he was, by this arrangement, deprived of a considerable perquisite, his lordship liberally gave him the deficiency from his own purse.
A judicious and elegant character is given of him: by Granger, who informs us, that when his father, the Duke of Ormonde, was informed of his death, he is reported, amongst other things, to have said, “That he would not exchange his dead son for any living son in christendom.”
He was, at the time of his decease, lieutenant-general ef his majesty’s forces in Ireland, lord chamberlain to the queen, one of the lords of his majesty’s most honourable privy council in the kingdoms of England and. Ireland, one of the lords of his majesty’s bed-chamber, and Laie of the most noble order of the garter.
JAMES BUTLER
Duke or Ormonde. This illustrious soldier, who united distinguished bravery with consummate skill, was descended from the renowned family of Ormonde; in which talent seemed as hereditary as titles and estates. He was born in the castle of Dublin, on the 29th of April, 1665; and at the age of ten years was sent to France, where he remained but a short time, returning again to Ireland;
from whence he was sent to England, and placed in Giket church college, Oxford, where he continued until the
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death of his father. At the age of seventeen he married the daughter of Lord Hyde, afterwards Earl of Rochester: In 1684 he was present at the siege of Luxemburgh, which commenced on the 28th of April; and was terminated, by the surrender of the town, on the 7th of June following. The year following death deprived him of his lady. Shortly after which he was appointed lord. of the bed-chamber; and served “in the tented field” against the Duke of Monmouth in the west. A treaty of marriage, which had formerly been entered upon, was now revived and happily concluded, between him and Lady Mary Somerset, daughter to the Duke of Beaufort.
On the 28th of November, 1688, he was elected a knight companion of the garter, and was installed on the 5th of April following, in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, by the Duke of Grafton and the Earl of Rochester. About the same period he was elected chancellor of the university of Oxford, in the room of his grandfather, and was installed at his own house in St. James’s square. On the 17th of December, 1688, he attended King James to Salisbury, near which place he had fixed the rendezvous of his army; but, on the king’s return, he joined the Prince of Orange at Sherbourne Castle, and entered Salisbury with him. From which city the Duke of Ormonde, with a party of the prince’s troops, went to Oxford, and caused his declaration to be publicly read in that university. After King William and Queen Mary were proclaimed, and the privy council chosen, the Duke of Ormonde was made one of the lords of the bed-chamber, and attended King William to Ireland. He was present at the battle of the Boyne; after which he was sent with nine troops of horse to preserve the tranquillity of Dublin. Thither he was followed by the king; and, on his removing westward, was sent by his majesty from Carlow, with a party of horse, to take possession of Kilkenny, and to protect the inhabitants of the adjacent parts from the depredations of the enemy. Here he gave a splendid entertainment to his majesty, at
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the castle belonging to his grace, which the Count Lauzun had generously protected from plunder, so that he not only found his furniture uninjured, but even his cellars well stored with wine.
After the campaign was over, his grace, having been named one of the privy council for Ireland, returned to England in January 1691. He attended his majesty to Holland; and, at the Hague, where there was a meeting of the confederates, during which period his grace was remarkable for his magnificence and splendid hospitality. King James, intending to invade England, sent over a declaration, in which he set forth his right; inviting all his subjects to join him on his landing, and promising a free pardon to all but the persons therein excepted by name, among whom was the Duke of Ormonde. The duke, however, was in no great danger of falling a victim to the resentment of the exiled monarch, his hopes being entirely blasted by the destruction of the French fleet off Cape Barfleur, and at La Hogue.
A better fortune, however, attended the French arms in Flanders, in 1693, at the battle of Landen; where Luxemburgh, by a skilful manoeuvre, forced the camp of King William, a position esteemed inaccessible. His majesty, during the whole of the day, behaved with uncommon gallantry, charging the enemy several times at the head of his troops. The Duke of Ormonde likewise displayed distinguished courage during the sanguinary conflict, making a desperate charge at the head of one of Lumley’s squadrons; in which his horse was shot under him, and himself wounded; when a soldier was on the point of killing him, but one of the French king’s guards, seeing on his finger a rich diamond ring, concluded him to be a person of distinction, and rescued him from the impending danger. After the battle he was carried to Namure, where great care being taken of him, he was soon out of danger. Here, with his usual generosity, he distributed among the poor prisoners of the allied troops, who were
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confined in the town, a considerable sum of money. He was shortly after exchanged for the Duke of Berwick, who was taken prisoner by Brigadier Churchill.
In 1694, Charles Butler, Esq. his grace’s brother, was. created a baron of England, and Earl of Arran in Ireland.
On the 3rd of April, 1695, he embarked at Gravesend with the king; and was at the taking of Namure, where he commanded the second troop of guards, and providentially escaped unwounded, he being often exposed to the destructive fire of the besieged, and many being killed around him.
In 1695 his majesty, in his progress, designing to make a visit to the university of Oxford, his grace sat out to receive and compliment him as chancellor, and, after the usual ceremonies had been gone through of presenting his majesty with a large English Bible, a Common Prayer Book, the plates of the university, and a pair of gold fringed gloves, a sumptuous entertainment, and a choice concert of music was provided to regale his majesty, as they expected he would do the university the honour to dine with them. But Boyer relates, that the Duke of Ormonde having communicated to his majesty, an anonymous letter, addressed to his grace, and dropped in the street the day before, wherein information was given of a pretended design to poison the king at an entertainment, his majesty, without reflecting on the groundlessness of a report which was undoubtedly raised by his enemies, resolved neither to eat nor drink; and immediately took his departure for Windsor, declaring, as a reason for his short stay, and his not going to see the colleges, that “this was a visit of kindness, not of curiosity, having before seen the university.”
King William died on the 8th of March, 1702; and was succeeded by Queen Anne, who, shortly after her accession, declared the Duke of Ormonde commander-in-chief of all the land forces to be employed on board the fleet.
It is necessary, however, to state, that, prior to King William’s death, a scheme had been concerted to besiege
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Cadiz by sea and land. This plan was now put in. execution; and the Duke of Ormonde, with an immense force, sailed with Admiral Sir George Rook, on the intended expedition, on the first of July; and on the 8th of the same month were obliged to put into Torbay, on account. of contrary winds; but on the same day month the whole fleet made the rock of Lisbon; and, after. having, held several councils of war, the Duke gave orders for landing the troops on the 15th ultimo, which orders were strictly obeyed; and every battalion acting with great bravery, they drove the Spaniards before them in all directions. Upon landing his grace gave the strictest orders, upon pain of death, that the inhabitants should in no ways be plundered; and then marched the army against Port St. Mary; but these orders were very ill obeyed, for both the soldiers and sailors, being both thirsty and fatigued, got to the wine cellars, where they drank. plentifully, and immediately both commenced plundering, nor was it. in the power of their officers to prevent them. Afterwards his grace went to Vigo, where he took and burnt several of the enemy’s ships, and brought away an immense booty; the galleons that were then in the harbour, being very, richly laden.. He sailed with Sir George Rook, on the 19th October, for England; leaving behind: him Sir Cloudesley Shovel, with about twenty ships, to watch the station. On the 7th of November following he arrived in the Downs, and the same day landed at Deal. He arrived in London the next morning, where he was received with great and deserved marks of favour-by her majesty, and: with the loud acclamations of the populace. On the 14th of the same month the queen commanded a public thanksgiving for the late victories, and announced her intention of attending divine worship in St. Paul’s Cathedral for that purpose on the 15th of December.
in 1703 his grace was appointed lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and on the 20th of May left London for Chester to embark for that station; where, after having filled the high station to which he was appointed to the satisfaction
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of all parties, he returned to England in March 1704; but went back again to Ireland on the 15th of November following. He arrived a second time in England in the year 1705; and in 1708 was sworn a privy counsellor of the two united kingdoms, England and Scotland. On the 1st of October, 1711, his grace was once more made lord-lieutenant of Ireland; and landed at Dunlany on the 3rd of July following, and proceeded to Dublin, where he was received with unbounded acclamations.
The Duke of Marlborough’s conduct having displeased the queen, her majesty removed him from all his employments, and nominated the Duke of Ormonde, in January 1712, commander-in-chief of her majesty’s forces; and, in February, he received his commission of captain-general, and was made colonel of the first regiment of foot guards. On the 9th of April he proceeded from London to Flanders, and arrived on the 6th of May at the city of Tournay, where he was hospitably entertained by the Earl of Albemarle, and Prince Eugene of Savoy. On the 23rd, after having viewed the fortifications of Douay, he reviewed the right wing of the first line of his army; and, after the review, entertained the Prince Eugene and the general officers of both armies at dinner. Upon a second review of the army, between Douay and Marchiennes, it was found to consist of two hundred and ninety-five squadrons and one hundred and forty-three battalions, amounting in the whole to 122,250 effective men. With these forces, the generals marched towards the enemy; but the Duke of Ormonde declared to Prince Eugene, that the queen, having a prospect that the negociations of peace would prove successful, had given him orders not to act offensively against the enemy, but that his orders did not extend to a siege; whereupon the confederates set down before Quesnoy. On the 24th of June, the Duke of Ormonde, pursuant to the orders he had received from court, sent to Prince Eugene, arid the deputies of the states attending the army, to desire a conference with them the next day; wherein he acquainted them, that
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he had received orders from her majesty to publish, within three days, a suspension of arms for two months, between his army and the French, and to send a detachment to take possession of Dunkirk, which place the King of France would put into the hands of the English, as a security for the performance of his promises. He likewise proposed, that the like suspension of arms should be published in the confederate army. He suspended for some days, when the allies not agreeing to the suspension, he marched off with the British troops; of which the — allies soon felt the fatal effects. Their army, commanded by the Earl of Albemarle, being completely routed by Marshal Villars; and other advantages obtained by the enemy. ?
On the 25th of June, the duke sent a trumpet to Marshal Villars, to acquaint him that he had received a copy of the preliminaries, signed by the Marquis de Torcy.
The campaign having terminated, and both the French: and confederate armies going now into winter quarters, the duke thought his stay in the country was no longer necessary, and therefore made a request to the queen, that he might have leave to return to England. Accordingly, on 21tst October, Lord Bolingbroke sent him word that the queen permitted his coming home as soon as he should think fit; in consequence of which, the duke set sail and landed therein on the Ist of November; and waited on the queen, at Windsor, on the 4th, and was most graciously received.
On the 10th June, 1713, the Duke of Ormonde joined in commission with the lord chancellor and lord steward of her majesty’s household, declared and notified the royal assent to several acts of parliament.
On King George the First’s accession to the throne, his majesty sent Lord Townshend, his new secretary of state (having before his arrival removed Lord Bolingbroke) to inform his grace that he had no longer occasion for his services, but would be glad to see him at court. His grace was also left out of the new privy council; but named for that
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of Ireland. The party, which had lately been kept under, having now, in a great measure, engrossed the king, to whom they had long before his accession made their court, were resolved to lay the axe to the root, and to put it out of the power of their opposers, ever, for the future, to break in upon their possession of the royal favour; in consequence of which the duke was impeached of high treason by Mr. secretary Stanhope. Several spoke in behalf of his grace, among whom was Sir Joseph Jekyll. The duke, however, did not think it advisable to attempt weathering a storm which he saw levelled all before it, but withdrew privately from his house at Richmond to France; prior to which, by authentic acts, he resigned the chancellorship of Oxford and the high-stewardship of Westminster; to both which dignities his brother, the Earl of Arran, was elected.
His grace has been censured for thus quitting England; but he knew too well who were his persecutors. He was thoroughly acquainted both with their principles and views; and was too wise to trust his head, not to their mercy, but to their disposal. As soon as it was publicly known that the duke had withdrawn himself, on the 5th of August, articles of impeachment were read against him in the house of commons; and, shortly after, a bill was brought in to summon him to surrender by the 10th of September; and on default thereof to attaint him of high treason; which passed both houses, and received the royal assent. The Duke, having neglected to obey this summons, the house of lords ordered the earl marshal to erase his name out of the list of peers. His arms also were erased; and his achievements, as knight of the garter, were taken down from St. George’s chapel at Windsor. The commons of Ireland also brought in a bill to attaint him; and offered a reward of 10,000/. for his head. Inventories were taken of all his personal estate; and both that and his real, vested in the crown. "
His grace, stripped of all support, and in a foreign country, was under the necessity of entering some service
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for subsistence. He was not long in France, (where lie had taken the title and name of Colonel Comerford,) before he had an invitation from the court of Spain, who were eager to embrace so brave and skilful a commander, and it is reported, that he commanded a. body of troops destined to make a descent upon England; but this information rested not on good authority.
His grace had, from the court of Spain, a pension of 2000 pistoles, and he chose Avignon for his retreat, where he lived completely secluded from the world. He was here, in 1741, solicited by the court of Seville to accept a command, but he excused himself) by alleging his great age and infirmities. His grace was here, (as throughout the whole course of his long life) remarkable for his benevolence and hospitality. He had divine service performed in his house twice every Sunday, and on every Wednesday and Friday morning throughout the year, at which all his protestant tenants were obliged to be present. The sacrament was administered to the family once a quarter. He never prepared for bed, or went abroad in the morning, till he had withdrawn for an hour in his closet. He had public assemblies twice a week, at which, though he assumed great cheerfulness and pleasantry, it was evident to all, that it was merely assumed through. respect to his Visitors.
in October 1745 he complained of a loss of appetite, and at length grew too weak: to walk, which complaints increasing, the physician who attended him sent for two others from Montpelier, and after a consultation, concluded on taking some blood from him, and in two days afterwards (Nov. 16), about seven o’clock in the evening, he quitted this world with the consoling hope of enjoying a better. His body was embalmed, and brought, the May following, through France to England, lodged in the Jerusalem chamber, and soon after interred in the vault of his ancestors in King Henry VIL.’s chapel, the bishop of Rochester, attended by a full choir, performing the ceremony.
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Thus died, in his eighty-first year, a brave soldier, and prudent general, whose reward for et achievements was a thirty years exile.
When we consider the difficult part he had given him by Queen Anne to act in Flanders, it must be admitted that he was an individual of no ordinary powers,—suffice it, however, to observe, such was, and such will be the fate of those, on whom the sun of royal favour sheds not his benefic beams.
A word or two must be added to biographers. It is an absolute fact that only one biographical dictionary* can be produced, in which the name .of this eminent individual is to be found.. And it is to:be hoped, that, after this uncontradictable declaration, the worthy native of the land of Saints will be ceased to be laughed at, who, compiling a dictionary, omitted the letter S, which he appeared totally to have forgotten.
JOHN BUTTS
Was a native of Cork, and painted figures and landscapes. He was accustomed to paint that grotesque assemblage usually to be found in ale-houses, on panel, which he executed with great ingenuity. He was employed . for several seasons. As scene-painter to Crow Street theatre, when that establishment was under the management of Spranger Barry. His distresses at times were so numerous, that he was compelled to paint signs, and coach panels for the present wants of a numerous family.
* Floyd’s Bibliotheca Biographica, a well written work in 3 vols, 8vo. published in the year 1760. † Philip Fitzgibbon, an eminent mathematician. [This last note has no connecting reference on the page.]
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CHARLES BYRNE
W as a man, whose powers ever might be truly termed great, and at times striking. He was exactly eight feet high, and after his decease, which occurred on the 1st of June, 1783, he measured eight feet four inches. fig!
His death is said to have been precipitated by excessive drinking, to which he was always addicted, but more particularly since his loss of all his property, which he had invested in a single bank note of 700/.:
In his last moments (it has been said) he requested that his ponderous remains might be thrown into the sea, in order that his bones might be placed far out of the reach of the chirurgical fraternity; in consequence of which, the body was shipped on board a vessel to be conveyed to the Downs, to be sunk in twenty fathom water.
The veracity of this report, however, has been questioned, as it is well known at the time of Byrne’s decease he excited a great deal of public curiosity, and somebody is suspected of having invented the above, to amuse themselves, and the world at large.
The following story has been related of many tall men, but it certainly originated in the individual now before us; Being necessarily obliged to walk out very early in the morning, or not at all, he used to startle the watchmen, who at that hour were parading the streets, by taking off the tops of the lamps, and lighting his pipe at the flame within.
CHARLES BYRNE
Was an excellent miniature painter, and born in Dublin, in which city he died about the year 1810. He practised during a short time in London.—With a superior understanding and much benevolence of heart, he mingled a dash of eccentricity, which not unfrequently drew on him the animadversion of his friends, who mistook that for
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caprice which was unhappily a constitutional infirmity, and which settled a short time before his death into confirmed insanity.—And many, who as friends or employers have been gratified while sitting ¢o him, or. with him, by his animated flow of conversation, and evident excellence of feeling, may perhaps feel pleased should. this slight tribute to his memory happen to meet their observation,.
Miss ——BYRNE.
Was a protoype of her illustrious countrywoman, Constantia Grierson, as in the dead languages we are told “she was critically correct,” and was equally well grounded in the modern. Her attainments were not solely literary; the minor, (though perhaps to many) the more interesting and attractive accomplishments of music and its sister arts were her’s [sic] in perfection. She was possessed of a considerable fortune, but. she viewed riches as the means of doing good to others, and her conspicuous superiority to the generality of her sex, was obscured by her excessive diffidence and unconsciousness. She was likewise eminently conspicuous in the exercise of every christian virtue.
She was the eldest daughter of the late Robert Byrne, Esq. of Cabinteely, and died at the premature age of nineteen, in 1814, at the island of Madeira, whither she had repaired for the benefit of her health.
“When age, all patient, and without regret,
Lies down in peace, and pays the general debt,
’Tis weakness most unmanly to deplore
The death of those who relish life no more:
But when fair youth, that every promise gave,
Sheds her sweet blossom in the lasting grave,
All eyes o’erflow with many a streaming tear,
And each sad bosom heaves the sigh sincere.”
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JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN.
THIS high-gifted individual, whose genius, wit, and eloquence have rendered him an ornament to his age and country, affords a striking instance of the buoyancy of a superior mind on the flood of early adversity; and which, in spite of all impediments, raised him from the humblest state of friendless obscurity, not only to one of the highest stations in the legal profession which he adorned, but to the most honourable distinctions of an independent senator and incorruptible patriot.
Mr. Curran was not a descendant from Irish ancestors; his first paternal stock, in the country so justly proud of his name, was a scion from a northern English family, — named CURWEEN; who found his way to the sister island as a soldier, in the army of Cromwell; but, from the humble fortunes of his posterity, he does not appear to have been enriched by the spoils of the land he helped to subjugate, like many other adventurers in the train of the usurper, whose descendants have long stood high in rank and fortune. Little more is known of the ancestry of this eminent man, than that his father James Curran filled the bumble office of seneschal in the manor court of New Market, in the county of Cork, the scanty emolument from which, with the produce of a small farm, were his only resources for the maintenance of a growing family. The maiden-name of his wife was Philpot. She was descended of a respectable stock in that county, and although John, her eldest son, who -bore also the name of his mother as an additional prenomen, could boast no hereditary talents on the side of his father, whose education and capacity were as humble as his rank; he derived from his mother that native genius, which, moulded by her early example, and cherished by her instruction, laid the basis of that celebrity which afterwards so highly distinguished her favourite boy. Though young Curran from the first dawn of intellect in his puerile days, gave
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eminent proofs that the seeds of wit and talents were hot sparingly sown in his composition, the humble circumstances of his parents afforded no prospect of an education to bring out the native lustre of his capacity; and but for circumstances wholly fortuitous, he might have lived and died with fame, no higher than that of a village wit, and the chance of succeeding to his father’s office. Such might have been the fate of Curran, were he placed in any soil less congenial to the growth of his young intellect, or any guidance less favourable than that of a mother, whose native capacity was his best! inheritance; whose culture “taught his young ideas how to shoot,” and whom he loved and venerated to the latest hour of his existence. The village school received him as an early pupil, where he soon evinced a capacity superior to his little ragged companions; and in the hours of play he proved his superiority in all the variegated sciences of marbles and chuck-farthing, and evinced a sportive fancy in all the arch pranks, and practical stratagems of the play-ground. His father, even if he had capacity, had little leisure to attend, to the progress of his son’s education. The youngster was therefore left to follow his own devices, and pursue the bent of his humour in every species of lively fun and arch eccentricity. . At fairs, where wit and whiskey alternately excited the laugh and the wrangle; at wakes, the last social obsequies to the dead in the village, at which sorrow and mirth in turns beguiled each other, young Curran was always present—now. a mime, and now a mourner. The prophecies of the more serious began to augur most unfavourably to the future fortunes of young Pickle, while he was the favourite of all the cheerful. The court of his father was quite scandalised, but all acknowledged him the legitimate heir of his mother’s wit. A new scene, however, occurred in the amusements of the village, in which young Curran made his début as a principal actor with much éclat to his comic fame, and which through life he took great pleasure to relate as one of his first incentives to eloquence, especially to that part of it which Demos-
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thenes urges as the first, second, and third essential to the success of an orator,—namely, action. The itinerant exhibitor of a street puppet-show, in the course of his tour, arrived at New-Market, much to the edification and amusement of the staring crowd; and the comic feats of Mr. Panch, and the eloquence of his man, superseded every other topic of conversation, Unfortunately, however, the second named actor in this drama was seized with sickness, and the whole establishment was threatened with ruin. But little Philpot, who was a constant member of the auditory, and eagerly imbibed at eyes and ears the whole exhibition, proposed himself to the manager, as a volunteer substitute for Punch’s man. This offer from so young and promising an amateur, was gladly accepted by the manager, who was well aware of the advantages of an arch young comedian, acquainted with all the characters, and local history of the place; but the young actor declined salary, and only stipulated, that he should remain perfectly incog. and that his name was not to be known, which condition of the treaty the manager faithfully kept. The success of the substitute was quite miraculous; immense crowds attended every performance; the new actor was universally admired, and the crouded audiences were astonished at the knowledge he displayed. He developed the village politics, pourtrayed [sic] all characters, described the fairs, blabbed the wake secrets, caricatured the spectators, disclosed every private amour, detailed all the scandal of the village, and attacked with humorous ridicule even the sacerdotal dignity of the parish priest. But this was the signal for general outcry; satire had transgressed its due limits; and men and maidens who laughed at their neighbour’s pictures, and pretended to recognise their own, were horrified at such profane familiarity with the clergy. Religion, as on larger theatres, was the scapegoat, and sentence of punishment was unanimously passed on Mr. Punch and his man; the manager, however, kept the grand secret, and his prudence prevented any inquiry after such dangerous celebrity, and Curran, who was
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through life in his convivial hours, the soul of mirth, frequently declared that he never produced such an effect upon any audience as in the humble character of Mr. Punch’s man.
As years advanced, the chance of better fortune began to dawn, and the reader shall have the first auspicious incident in his own words: I was at this time a little tagged apprentice to every kind of idleness and mischief: all day studying whatever was eccentric in those older, and half the night practising it for the amusement of those who were younger than myself. Heaven only knows where it would have ended; but, as my. poor mother said, I was born to be a great man,
“One morning while playing at marbles with my ragged playmates in the village ball-court, the gibe and the jest, and the plunder went gaily round; those who won, laughed, and those who lost, cheated. Suddenly a stranger appeared amongst us of a venerable but cheerful aspect. His appearance gave no restraint to our merry assemblage. But he seemed pleased and delighted. He was a benevolent creature, and the days of infancy (after all, the happiest of our lives) perhaps rose to his memory. God bless him! I think I see his form at the distance of half a century, just as he stood before me in the ball court. His name was Boyse; he was the rector of New-Market; to me he took a particular fancy; I was winning, and full of waggery, thinking and saying every thing eccentric, and by no means a miser of my flashes. Every one was welcome to share them, and had plenty to spare after freighting the company. Some sweet-cakes easily bribed me home with him; he seemed delighted with the casual acquirement of such a disciple; he undertook my tuition, taught me my grammar and classical rudiments; and having taught me all he had leisure to teach, he sent me to the classical school of a Doctor Carey, at Middleton, where my young capacity received the first stimulus of effective advancement, to which I am indebted for all my better fortune in life,”
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At this school young Curran became the class-fellow of some young tyros, not then of prospects much superior to his own; but who afterwards in life experienced elevated fortunes, and became his intimate and attached friends. At this school also the promising proofs of young Curran’s capacity attracted the benevolent protection of a generous lady, appositely named Allworthy, who undertook to bear the charge of his education; and in the family of this amiable gentlewoman, to whom he was distantly related through his maternal connection, and also in the family of the Wrixons and others of highly respectable rank in that part of the county, he was received as a welcome visitant, not only during his scholastic years, but afterwards during his college vacations; and here it was, as he himself frequently declared, that he formed the first notions of eloquence.
The wakes, that is to say, the assemblages of the neighbours in melancholy convention round the bodies of the deceased, during the nights that pass between death and interment, form no inconsiderable part in the occasional amusements of an Irish village, and no incurious characteristic in the customs of the country. The body of the deceased is laid out in a large room upon a bedstead or table, and covered by a sheet with the face only exposed; sprigs of rosemary, mint, and thyme, flowers and odorous herbage are spread over the coverlid, and the corpse is surmounted by plates of snuff and tobacco to regale the visitants. Tobacco pipes are plentifully distributed for the purpose of fumigation, and to counteract any unwholesome odours from the dead body. In the ancient Irish families, or those wherein civil refinements have not. exploded old customs, two and sometimes four female bards attend on those mourntul occasions, who are expressly hired for the purpose of lamentation: this is probably a relique of druidical usage coeval with the Phoenician ancestry; and they sing, by turns, their song of death in voices sweet and piercing, but in tones the most melancholy and affecting. They string together, in rude extempore verse, the
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genealogy and family history, and they recount, all the exploits, the virtues, and even the very dresses, conversations, and endearing. manners of the deceased. To those who understand these funereal songs, for they are chaunted in Irish, the scene is deeply affecting, and even with those who do not, the piercing tone of grief excites the deepest sympathy, and the whole assemblage are bathed in tears: great numbers. of candles are lighted in the room, and every thing wears the aspect of melancholy. But, to relieve the mourners from the woe-fraught scene, an adjacent room is appropriated to purposes directly opposite, as. if to banish the woe excited in the first. Here there appears a display of different ages, characters, and passions, all the young, and the old; the serious and the comical; the grave and the gay of the lower, classes assemble. No where does the real, genius and humour of the people so strongly appear, tragedy, comedy, broad farce, pantomime, match-making, love-making, speech-making, song-making, and story-telling, and all that is comical in the genuine Irish character, develop themselves with the most fantastical freedom in the rustic melodrame; the contrasted scenes succeed each other as quick as thought; there is a melancholy in their mirth, and a mirth in their melancholy, like that which pervades their national music, and the opposite passions alternately prevail, like light and shade playing upon the surface of a sullen stream. The people come many miles to one of those serio-comic assemblies; refreshments of cakes, whiskey, and ale are distributed between the acts to the visitants, who sit up all night; but the grand feast is reserved to precede, the funereal, obsequies. A whole hecatomb of geese, turkies, fowls, and lambs are sacrificed some days before for the occasion, and the friends, acquaintances, and neighbours of the deceased are regaled with an abundant cold collation, and plenty of ale, spirits, and wine: while the company of the lower order assemble in the exterior barn or, court-yard, and are feasted with baskets of cakes and tubs of ale. When the funeral sets out for the place of interment, the road for miles is covered
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by an impervious croud, horse and foot, sometimes to the number of several thousands, especially if the deceased be a person in ordinary respect or esteem with his neighbours. The bards before-mentioned form the procession, and, at intervals, renew the hymn of grief, which is chorussed by the whole croud, with shouts of “Ululo,” that rend the skies.
Scenes of this sort were peculiarly germaine to the eccentric taste of young Curran; his whole mind and heart entered into the spirit of them; he saw in them all the varieties of whim, and humour, and passion in the national character, and here he felt the first impulse of those transports which seized on his imagination, and induced him to cultivate the pursuit of eloquence.
While he attended the wake of a wealthy person, who, by his last will, had distributed amongst his favourite kindred, his fortune and effects, the legatees were conspicuous in their sorrows, and lavish in their praises to his merits; they measured their eulogies by his bounties, and their funeral orations kept pace with the value of his bequests: but the last who came forward on this occasion was a woman of portly stature and elegant shape; her long black hair flowed loosely down her shoulders; her dark eyes teemed with expression, and her whole manner was sedate, but austere and majestic. She had married without the consent of the deceased, who was her uncle; she had been his favourite niece, but she had followed the impulse of love in the choice of a husband: she was now a widow with many children: her offended kinsman carried his resentment to the grave, and left her poor and unprovided. She had sat long in silence; and at length rose, and with slow and measured pace approached her dead uncle. She calmly laid her hand upon his forehead, and paused; whilst all present expected a passionate display of her anger and disappointment, she addressed herself to the dead in these few words;” Those of my kindred who have uttered praises, and poured them forth with their tears to the memory of the deceased, did only what they owed him
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under the weight of obligations. They have been benefited, they have in their different degrees partaken that bounty which he could no longer withhold. During his life, he forgot to exercise that generosity by which his memory might now be embalmed in the hearts of disinterested affection. Such consolation, however, as these purchased praises could impart to his spirit, I would not, by any impiety tear from him. Cold in death is this head, but not colder than that heart, when living, through which no thrill of nature did ever vibrate. This has thrown the errors of my youth, and of an impulse too obedient to that affection which T still cherish, into poverty and sorrow, heightened beyond hope by the loss of him who is now in heaven, and still more by the tender pledges he has left after him on earth. But I shall not add to these reflections the bitter remorse of inflicting even a merited calumny; and because my blood coursed through his veins, I shall not have his memory scored or tortured by the expression of my disappointment, or of the desolation which now sweeps through my heart. It therefore best becomes me to say, that his faith and honour, in the other relations of life, were just and exact, and that these may have imposed a severity on his principles and manners. The tears which now swell my eyes, I cannot check, but they rise like bubbles in the mountain stream, and burst, to appear no more.”
Such was the pathetic oration from which Mr. Curran acknowledged to have caught the early flame of his eloquence; and no where does the pabulum of natural eloquence more abound, than in the very region of his birth and education. Commerce or refinement had not yet polished away the feelings of the heart, and every passion of the soul held undiminished vigour in the popular mind: the barbarous only, because obsolete language of their Celtic ancestors (the most copious on earth, if the learned Colonel VALLANCEY deserves credit) had not yet vanished. Those who relish the language of Ossian, can form some judgment of the style and idiom common in the dialect of the Munster peasantry.
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The learned tell us, that all the seeds of genuine eloquence are most vigorous amongst savage nations, and that the vigorous mind, crampt by the paucity of a limited language, finds vent for its feelings in figures and epithets infinitely more forcible and expressive than the copious dialects of polished nations can furnish. But with the peasantry of Ireland, where their native language is fluently spoken, and particularly in Munster, the extreme copiousness of their mother tongue has by no means diluted the strength of expression; for when once their passions are roused or interested, their whole dialect becomes a torrent of thoughts “that flow, and words that burn,” accompanied by the most forcible expression of the countenance, and action of the whole frame: all the wild flowers of rhetoric, unformed indeed by the hand of criticism, seem wholly at the speaker’s command; and whether joy or grief, love or hatred, rage or kindness, pity or revenge be the predominant passion of the moment, all the faculties of mind and body are in unison to give it the most natural and strenuous expression.
Every thing marks the strength of mind and depth of feeling, and the wildest language of hyperbole seems scarcely adequate to vent the labouring thought. Shrewd in their observation, keen and humorous in their ridicule, caustic in their sarcasms, generous to their friends, fierce with. their enemies, quick of irritation, and easy of reconeilement; vengeful to oppression, faithful and affectionate to lenity and justice. In their joy, extravagant; in their grief, tender and pathetic. Their kindness, honey; their maledictions, gall. Their hospitality, proverbial; their courage, graven upon the annals of every nation, needs no panegyric; and their patience, almost miraculous under sufferings and privations, unparalleled in any other civilized country, are perfectly inconceivable to the majority of the people of England, who are, perhaps, better acquainted with the state of their fellow subjects in Canada or China-Tartary, than of those in the Irish branch of the United Kingdom.
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-It is therefore not so miraculous if a mind like Curran’s, drinking from such a fountain, and nurtured amid such intercourse, should be readily susceptible of the polishing influence of classic literature, of which he was a master. A thousand gems of the same water are still to be found in the same mine, did they meet with the same skill to bring out their lustre.
From the school at Middleton, young Curran was transplanted to Trinity College, where he entered asa sizar on the 16th of June, 1767, under the tutorage of the learned Doctor Dobbyn, and obtained the second place on his entrance: but two years elapsed before he acquired his scholarship of the house, but this not owing to dullness or idleness, but by the number of senior candidates for the vacancies which occurred in the time. His cotemporaries at college recollect nothing extraordinary to distinguish his progress there; he was never eminent for his apparent application to his studies, nor ambitious to obtain scholastic degrees; but many causes may have existed to curb his ambition. His mind naturally resentful of indignity, and prone to eccentricity, was ill caiculated to brook the frowns and insults of wealthier students, for whose society neither his purse nor his apparel qualified him as a competitor in expense or finery. His finances were extremely confined, and from boyhood to old age, he was neyer an eminent votary of dress or fashion: indeed, his ambition seemed to point the other way; the jewel, and not the casket, was the object of his attention, and while the former dazzled by its lustre, the rusticity of his exterior seemed as a foil to the intellectual splendour it veiled:
“As streams that run o’er golden mines,
With modest murmur glide,
Nor seem to know the wealth that shines
Within their gentle tide,
O veil’d beneath a simple guise,,
Thy radiant genius shone,
And that which charm’d all other eyes, .
Seem’d worthless in thy own,”
——Moore,
But however unambitious of collegiate distinctions, he
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accumulated without labour, and apparently without study, all treasures of classic learning. To the study of eloquence he anxiously devoted his mind, and stored his genius from all the great masters of the Greek and Roman schools. Having finished his college course, he proceeded to London, and entered himself of the Middle Temple. Here he ate his commons through the stated number of terms, to qualify him for the Irish bar, and it is generally believed, he sustained his expenses by the labour of his pen, as many of his eminent countrymen had done before him. On his return to Ireland in 1775, he was called to the Irish bar, where he performed a briefless quarantine of some years in the hall of the four courts; and in the spring and summer assizes, laid the foundation of his professional fortunes on the Munster circuit. Here too he had the courage and patience to persist in his almost briefless ordeal (like many of his predecessors and cotemporaries who afterwards attained the highest forensic honours) while his fees scarcely defrayed his trayelling charges. It was on one of those excursions that he was introduced to Miss O’Dell, a young lady of respectable family, who shortly afterwards became his wife; but this match brought no increase to his finances, and he returned to the metropolis with the additional charge of maintaining a wife, though the fruits of his last exertions were scarcely competent to his personal support. He saw a young family increase, without means to sustain them; for splendid as were his talents, and encouraging the hope. of future eminence, still he wanted the friends and connections indispensable to success; but vivacious spirits and an elastic mind bore him above the torrent he had to buffet, and enabled him to stem the billows of adversity. Passing rapidly over a series of melancholy reflections, arising from a conjugal alliance commenced under embarrassments, (and terminated some years afterwards in a legal separation under the most afflicting circumstances,) we now arrive at the first dawn of his auspicious fortunes.
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By degrees his character and talents became more. known and respected; and, if report be correct, he was indebted for his first patron and rising fame to his own manly spirit, coupled with that mental energy to which a little incident proved favourable.,
He was retained during an-election contest, in which common-place abuse and reciprocal invective are so frequently resorted to both in England and Ireland, instead of law and reason; Mr. Curran employed both his wit and satire (in each of which he was matchless) against the pretensions of the opposite candidate; and particularly objected to a vote tendered in his behalf. This instantly produced many gross personal allusions on the part of the adversary, and the apparent meanness of the barrister’s figure and dress proved a fruitful though vulgar theme for declamation. Mr. Curran, restrained only by the presence of the presiding magistrate from instantly conferring personal chastisement, was compelled to adopt another expedient, and immediately poured forth such a torrent of sarcastic eloquence, that he overwhelmed his opponent with shame and confusion, while he enlisted all the noble and generous passions of his auditors on the side of outraged humanity.
His antagonist, instead of resorting to pistols (the honourable arbitration of right and wrong at that day) had good sense and generosity enough to acknowledge his errors; nay, more, he granted to the young lawyer his friendship and protection, and is said to have eminently contributed by his influence, to place his merit and talents in a fair point of view.
But it was not alone with the probationary difficulty of a junior barrister that Mr. Curran had to contend in his early career; perhaps it is not, even in that liberal protession, that a young man of humble origin and obscure connections, but superior talents and rising fame has to expect the /east display of enmity from senior competitors, more fortunate in their alliances, wealth, and veteran standing; there are certain invidious propensities in our frail
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nature, which even the gravity of a silk gown and a serjeant’s coif cannot always conceal: but when such a feeling betrays itself on the bench, it merits a much harsher hame than mere illiberality.
There was an Honourable Judge Robinson at this time on the Irish bench, as remarkable for the peevishness of his temper as the pitifulness of his person, who had more than once elicited sparks of just resentment from gentlemen of the bar, that might have taught him better caution. Current rumours stated that this learned judge attained his promotion to the judgment seat, not by his eminent virtues or his legal learning, but his literary services in the publication of some political pamphlets, remarkable only for their senseless, slavish, and venomous scurrility. This goodly sage, at a time when Mr. Curran was struggling — with adversity, and straining every nerve in one of his early forensic pursuits, made an unfeeling effort to extinguish him. Mr. Curran, in combating some opinion, urged by the opposite counsel, said, that he had consulted all his law books, and could not find a single case to esta blish the opinion contended for; I suspect, Sir,” said the heartless judge with a sneer, “that your law library is rather contracted.” Such a remark from the bench, applied to a young man of ordinary pretensions would have infallibly crushed him. But Mr. Curran, whose practical motto was “‘nemo me impune lacessit,” rose from the pressure of this stroke with increased elasticity. For a moment he eyed the judge with a pause of contemptuous silence, and then replied, —”It is true, my lord, that lam poor; and that circumstance has rather curtailed my library; but, if my books are not numerous, they are select; and, I hope, have been perused with proper dispositions; I have prepared myself for this high profession, rather by the study of a few good books, than the composition of many bad ones. I am not ashamed of my poverty, but should of my wealth, could I stoop to acquire it by servility and corruption. If L rise not to rank, I shall at least be honest; and should I ever cease to be so, many examples shew me,
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that an ill-acquired elevation, by rendering me more conspicuous, would only make me the more universally and more notoriously contemptible.” This appears to have been the last occasion, on which the learned judge ventured a bile at the same file.
Perhaps no man ever possessed powers of invective and exasperation, more virulent than those of Mr. Curran. Early in his professional career, he was employed at Cork, to prosecute an officer, named Sellinger, for assaulting a catholic clergyman. Sellinger, justly or otherwise, was suspected by Mr. Curran to be a mere political creature of Lord Doneraile, and to have acted in mere subserviency to the religious prejudices of his patron. On this theme he expatiated with such bitterness and effect, that Sellinger sent hima message the next day. They met; Mr. Curran received, but did not return his fire; and thus the affair ended. “It was not necessary,” said Curran some time afterwards to a friend, “for me to fire at him; he died in three weeks after the duel, of the report of his own pistol.”
Mr. Curran might now be considered as prosperously established at the bar, rising to the very summit of his profession, and daily employed in those forensic exertions which so eminently contributed to his fortune as a lawyer, and his fame as an orator; but, notwithstanding the extensiveness of his professional pursuits, he could find time to enjoy the convivial society of a few select friends. This society was entitled, the Monks of the Screw, and did not, as a vulgar biographer of Mr. Curran has ignorantly stated, consist of shabby barristers and ale-bibbers, but of men of the first character, wit, and talents the country could boast; men as eminent for the polish of their manners, as for their learning and genius. Amongst these were the late Lord Charlemont, Mr. Flood, Mr. Grattan, Mr. Bowes Daly, Mr. George Ogle, Mr. Keller, Messrs. Day, Chamberlaine, and Metge, since judges; Barry Yelverton (afterwards Lord Avonmore), the celebrated Dr. O’Leary, and a host of such characters were amongst its members. They met every Saturday during the law terms, in a large
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house of their own, in Kevin street. Mr. Curran was installed grand prior of the order, and deputed to compose the charter-song.. If ever there was a social board, whereat the votaries of wit, taste, and festivity might enjoy with delight “the feast of reason and the flow of soul;” it was in this convent of accomplished monks. This society continued for several years; and after its dissolution, the sinall statue of their patron saint was removed to Mr. Curran’s seat, called the Priory, near Dublin, and placed on the sideboard in his dining room., Of all the friends with whom Mr. Curran maintained the strictest intimacy, and who treated him with an almost parental esteem, was Barry Yelverton, whose talents had raised him to the dignity of the peerage, as Lord Avonmore. They were educated at the same school, and were fellowstudents, though Yelverton was by some years the older. This nobleman was said to make his first bound in life from a whimsical incident. While asizar at Trinity College, he employed his vacations as an assistant-tutor at the classical school of the Reverend Doctor Buck, in North King street, and was treated as one of the family, and boarded at the doctor’s table; but Mrs. Buck was a practical economist, and dictated an arrangement, by which the tutors were cashiered of their toast and tea breakfast, and placed on a morning establishment of bread and milk with the boys of the school. But Yelverton, who possessed as much as most men of the milk of human kindness, could not bear this humiliating change; he immediately quitted the school, redoubled his diligenee at college, pushed his way for the bar, where his talents soon enabled him to outstrip his competitors, and to establish his fame in public as a lawyer, an orator, and a statesman; and in private as a scholar, a poet, and a wit of the first water. His simplicity rendered him the constant butt of Curran’s playful wit; but his good-nature always forgave the prank for the sake of the joke. He had long presided as chief baron of his majesty’s exchequer court. About the period of the Union he received his patent of peerage, by
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the title of Avonmore, as was: said, in consideration of his
support to the measure of union, in direct opposition to the principles of his whole life, and to the sentiments of all his friends and admirers at the bar, to whom that medsure has never ceased tobe peculiarly obnoxious. About this time an unfortunate division separated the friendship between those eminent. men, which had subsisted from their boyish days, and no reconciliation took place until the year 1805, when it was casually effected by an incident highly honourable to the feelings of both. On the memorable cause of the King v. Mr. Justice Johnston, in the court of exchequer, when Mr. Curran came to be heard, after alluding to a previous decision in the king’s bench against his client, he thus pathetically appealed to Lord Avonmore::
“‘T am not ignorant, my lord, that. this extraordinary construction has received the sanction of another court, nor of the surprise and dismay with which it smote upon the general heart of the bar. 1 am aware that I may have the mortification of being told in another country of that unhappy decision, and I foresee in what confusion I shall hang down my head when I am told it. But I cherish too the consolatory hope, that I shall be able to tell them that I had an old and learned friend, whom 1 would put above all the sweepings of their hall, who was of a different opinion; who had derived his ideas of civil liberty from the purest fountains of Athens and of Rome; who had fed the youthful vigour of his studious mind, with the theoretic knowledge of their wisest philosophers and statesmen; and who had refined the theory into the quick and exquisite sensibility of moral instinct, by contemplating the practice of their most illustrious examples; by dwelling on the sweet soul’d piety of Cimon; on the anticipated christianity of Socrates; on the gallant and pathetic patriotism of Epaminondas; on that pure austerity of Fabricius, whom, to move from his integrity, would have been more difficult than to have pushed the sun from his course. I would add, that if he had seemed to hesitate, it was but
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for a moment: that his hesitation was like the passing cloud that floats across the morning sun, and hides it from the view; and does so, for a moment, hide it by involving the spectator without even approaching the face of the luminary: And this soothing hope draw from the dearest and tenderest recollections of my life, from the remembrance of those Attie nights and those reflections of the gods which we have spent with those admired and respected and beloved companions who have gone before us;—over whose ashes the most precious tears of Ireland have been shed: yes, my good lord, I see you do not forget them; I see their sacred forms passing in sad review before your memory: I see your pained and softened fancy recalling those happy meetings, when the innocent enjoyment of social mirth expanded into the nobler warmth of social virtue; and the horizon of the board became enlarged into the horizon of man;—when the swelling heart conceived and communicated the pure and generous purpose,—when my slenderer and younger taper imbibed its borrowed light from the more matured and redundant fountain of yours. Yes, my lord, we can remember those nights without any other regret than that they can never more return, for
“We spent them not in toys, or lust, or wine; But search of deep philosophy, Wit, eloquence and poesy, Arts, which I lov’d, for they, my friend, were thine.”
But, my lord, to return to a subject from which to have thus far departed, I think, may not be wholly without excuse.”
As soon as the court rose, the tipstaff informed Mr. Curran, he was wanted immediately in the chamber by one of the judges of the exchequer. He obeyed the mandate; and the moment he entered, the venerable Lord Avonmore, whose cheeks were still wet with tears extorted by this heart-touching appeal, clasped him to his bosom, and from that moment all cause of difference was obliterated,
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We now go back to the year 1783, in the administration of Lord Northington, when Mr. Curran first took his seat in Parliament for the borough of Kilbeggan, having for his colleague, the celebrated Henry Flood, with whom he joined the opposition of the day. A circumstance attending his election was highly honourable to Mr. Curran. Lord Longueville who was proprietor of the borough, and a wholesale dealer in the ¢rade of parliament, was eager to attach to his force so desirable a recruit as Mr. Curran, and he returned him for a seat, under the idea that a young barrister with a growing family, and totally dependant on his profession for subsistence, would scarcely suffer his political principles to interfere with his interests. He found, however, in Mr, Curran a stubborn exception to this rule; for on the very first question, he not only voted against his patron, but by a most energetic speech, proved the total fallacy of all his expectations. Lord Longueville, of course warmly remonstrated; but what was his astonishment to find Mr. Curran, not only persevering in the independence of his opinions, but even devoting the only £500. he had in the world, to the purchase of a seat which he insisted on transferring as an equivalent for that of Kilbeggan. During the whole of Mr. Curran’s parliamentary life, it was his fortune to be. joined in the ranks of opposition, in which he acted with many of the most eminent patriots, orators, and statesmen his country could boast in any age, and he ever proved himself a steady adherent to the cause of his country, and worthy the attachment and confidence of his friends. Itis not our purpose in this sketch, to attempt lengthened details of his eloquence in the senate, where he has so often shone with refulgent splendour, and where not only the force of his arguments, but the lightnings of his wit, and the shafts of his invective were deeply felt on that side of the house to which he was opposed. He had, however, the mortification to see several of his friends from time to time, lured by the sweets of office, relinquishing their old colleagues and the public cause, to join the ranks of the
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minister. Mr, Curran always adhered to the same politics which distinguished the political lives of the Ponsonby’s, Mr. Grattan, and those numerous friends who formed the Whig club in Ireland, and he was a zealous supporter of all their measures; but able as that support was, circumstances rendered the house of commons not the most favourable theatre for the display of his talents. His forensic labours occupied much the greater portion of his time, and daily demanded his presence in one or all of the four courts. His post in the senatorial ranks was usually allotted in the rear of the debates; for he seldom came into action till towards the close of the engagement; and this, after having previously toiled through the courts for the entire day: of course he brought to the house of commons a person enfeebled, and a mind exhausted. He was therefore compelled to speak late in the night, when the subject for discussion and the patience of the house were worn out, and he had frequently to devote the residue of the night, after the division, to reading his briefs, and preparing to meet the judges early the next, morning. But even exhausted as he was on those occasions, and fatigued as were the attentions of his auditors, he never failed, by the brilliancy of his wit, the vivacity of his spirits, the vigour of his intellect, and the beauty of his eloquence, to rally the languor of the house, and reanimate the discussion, to its very close. It is to be lamented that ample justice was scarcely ever done to the most brilliant of his speeches in the printed reports of the day, and hence many of his finest orations are lost for ever.
Much censure, and even abuse have been cast on the parliamentary reporters of the time for their negligence or inability on this and other like points, so injurious to. national eloquence: but it may not be amiss, even here, to offer some apology for men thus severely and indiscriminately blamed, and to throw some light upon a subject little understood by the public.
The newspapers in Ireland were the only immediate vehicles for the details of parliamentary eloquence. The
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government of the country employed two reporters with liberal salaries and lucrative patronage, to take care of the speeches of the ministerial members. Two newspapers with large allowances were entirely devoted to the purpose, and many or most of the speakers from the treasury benches, anxious to display their talents and utility, generally wrote their own speeches and sent them to the government prints. But with the popular newspapers, the case was quite different. They were generally in the hands of needy or parsimonious printers; and for each paper a single reporter, at the enormous salary of two guineas per week! attended in the gallery to note and detail the eloquence of the opposition orators, from the sitting of the house to its rising, frequently a period of eight, ten, or twelve hours a night; and then they adjourned to their printing offices, fatigued and exhausted in mind and body, to give such a sketch of the discussion as a news-printer had room or inclination to insert. Many of those reporters were men of considerable ability, and not as Mr. Hardy, the biographer of Lord Charlemont, has stated “‘ the most ignorant and illiterate of the human race,” but as competent to the task as any of those employed for the like purpose in London, where sx or eight are sometimes engaged for each print. It is hoped this short and true explanation will, once for all, plead apology for the historians of Irish parliamentary eloquence, whose wretched emoluments were so utterly inadequate to remunerate their exertions; and who, to perform the task they have been charged with neglecting, must have had constitutions and capacities more than human.
Mr. Curran was not more fortunate in the details of his forensic orations; for the reporter in the law courts and in the house of commons was one and the same, and included both duties under the one miserable stipend. Shorthand was scarcely known in the country at the time, save by one or two gentlemen of the bar, to whose labours the world is indebted for the only sketches extant of Mr. Curran’s speeches, approaching to any thing like perfect
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similitude, particularly those uttered on the State Trials; and he himself could never be prevailed on to revise or retouch the transcript of a single oration. Had Cicero, or Burke, been thus negligent of their facundiary fame, we should not, at this day, possess in print the splendid monuments of their eloquence that challenge our admiration: but, of the genuine eloquence of Curran, as of the exquisite sculptures of ancient Greece and Rome, we are left to form our conception from the broken statues and mutilated fragments, collected from cursory sketches, some notes, or fleeting memory, which are compiled into the shape in which we now find them. Ex pede Herculem. But, if such be the detached members, what must have been the entire figure of that eloquence, which, to be felt and estimated, must have been heard in the delivery?
If his powers were great, his materials were also abundant. The themes of his parliamentary displays were the grievances of his country, the wrongs of her people, and the corrupt influence of her ruling system; and never did any civilized country, called free, in any age, present more prolific sources to fire the mind and stimulate the eloquence of a patriot orator. The corruption of the system, and the rapacity of its instruments, were the constant objects of his attack; and he poured on them an incessant fire of pointed invective and scalding ridicule. His very pleasantries were subservient to his purpose; and even the victims of his wit, while they winced under the lash of his satire, or were scorching by the lightnings of his fancy, were often convulsed with laughter. A few short specimens may serve to illustrate this part of the sketch.
The Beresford family, who were at the head of the revenue, and Mr. Fitzgibbon (afterwards Lord Clare) connected with them by marriage, long held the ruling sway in Ireland; and, in addition to the influence which their stations gave them over the representative body within the walls of parliament, from the weighty operation of the loaves and fishes, that influence was greatly strengthened by their omnipotent patronage and control over the
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revenue system, with the business of elections, which enabled them, in all emergencies, to march a whole army of excisemen, tax-gatherers, distillers, brewers, and publicans, into the field; all of whom had either votes in corporations, or were forty-shilling freeholders in three or four counties; and, if on any occasion, the success of the court candidate was doubtful, a batch of those forty-shilling voters were manufactured for the occasion, and the same identical acre was sometimes transferred in succession from one to twenty tenants, with an increasing profit-rent of forty-shillings a year to each. On one particular occasion, when popular interest ran high on the approach of a general election, Mr. Beresford was obliged to brigade the custom-house officers from the metropolis, and every out-port in the kingdom, all of whom being previously organised as quorum voters for several counties, were actually marched by squads, and travelled through every district within the circuit of their respective cantonments, to turn the scale at every election they could reach against the popular candidate.
On the meeting of the new parliament Mr. Curran laid hold of this circumstance, which he handled with infinite humour: ”What, Mr. Speaker, said he, must be the alarm and consternation of the whole country, when they saw these hordes of custom-house Tartars traversing every district, devouring like locusts the provisions, and overwhelming the franchises of the people? These jiscal comedians travelled in carts and waggons from town to town, county to county, and election to election, to fill this house, not with the representatives of the people, but of the great Cham who commands them. Methinks I see a whole caravan of those strolling constituents, trundling in their vehicles towards a country town, where some gaping simpleton, in wonderment at their appearance, asks the driver of the first vehicle: Where, my good fellow, are you going with those raggamuffins? I suppose they are convicts on their way to the kid-ship for transportation to Botany Bay. Oh! no, answers the driver,
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‘they are only a few cartloads of the raw materials for manufacturing members of parliament, on their way to the next election. ”:
Even Mr, Beresford himself, and his whole corps of commissioners, who were present, had not gravity enough to withstand this attack on their risible muscles, but joined in the general burst of laughter it excited.
When the late Lord Buckinghamshire (then Major Hobart) was secretary to the viceroy, and, of course, had what is called the management of the commons house, his ranks were filled in general by a miserable set of supporters, whose talents only qualified them to talk against time, or fire their amen shots at the question, by the simple monosyllables, aye or no; sitting mum through the debate, and serving, like Falstaff’s soldiers, as “mere food for the gunpowder” of Curran’s wit. The orator, in one of his speeches, affecting a tone of commiseration, noticed those gentlemen thus:
“For my part, Mr. Speaker, I never glance at the right honourable gentleman over the way (Major Hobart) without feelings of unaffected pity for him, in the duties he has to perform in his arduous situation. When I behold an English secretary, day after day, marching down to this house from the castle, like a petty German clock-maker, with his wooden time-pieces dangling at his back, in order to deposit them on their shelves, in dumb shew, until their manager shall pull the string for their larums to go off, or their hurdy-gurdies to play their appointed tunes, I feel for the honour of the country he came from, as well as for the debasement of my own. Such is the miserable machinery by which his questions are carriedin this house, without even the semblance of argument or the decency of candid discussion.”
At another time, expressing his alarm at the rapid strides of corruption over the remaining virtues of the representative body, and the elevation of apostacy in proportion to its excess, he compared the unblushing supporters of the minister’s influence, to “Drowned bodies, which
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excited no apprehensions while sunk at the bottom of the current; but, in process of time, they rose as they rotted, by the buoyancy of their own corruption; till, reaching the surface, they floated down the stream, infecting the very atmosphere by the stench of their putrescence, and filled the surrounding country with horror and dismay.”
At another time he compared them to “mummies in a catacomb, who remained fixed in their niches, until dug out to give their votes, or be told off in the dumb show of a division against their country.” But one of his most ludicrous and effective strokes in this: way was played off upon a gentleman of the bar, named Duquery, who had a seat in parliament. He was a gentleman of distinguished talents and worth, who had long been the zealous supporter of Mr. Curran and his friends, but he was not so fortunate as Curran in the forensic field; and felt himself advancing in years with an income very inadequate to his station in life. This gentleman was prevailed on to accept a serjeantry-at-law, as a step preliminary to higher advancement in his professional line: but the condition, however unpalatable, was a transfer of his talents to the treasury-side of the house, and an implicit support of administration. Mr. Duquery with reluctance complied, much to the surprise and chagrin of his old colleagues; and on his first night’s appearance in his new situation, he made a speech in support of a ministerial question, so very inferior to his usual style, and so feeble in the cause he had recently espoused, as greatly to disappoint the hopes of his new allies, and to gratify those whom he had so lately deserted.
Such a circumstance could not escape the vigilance and wit of Curran; and in a night or two afterwards, while Mr. Duquery sat blushing amongst his new friends, for his recent failure, and preparing for a more successful effort in the evening’s debate, Mr. Curran rose, and made, as usual, a brilliant speech on the subject under discussion, towards the end of which, he “congratulated the Right
Honourable Major (Hobart) on the acquisition of his new
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recruit, and was glad to find him already promoted to the honour of a halberd; he had no doubt that the young serjeant would prove a valuable acquisition to the regiment, although he had cut rather an aukward [sic] figure upon the first night’s drill. The manoeuvres and discipline. of his squad might be a little irksome, because so. different from that of the corps he had lately quitted, and in which he had served so long with credit as an expert soldier; but he might improve in time, and entitle himself to higher pay and promotion. At present, the worthy serjeant’s situation reminded him of an incident while he was a boy, which occurred to the master of a puppet-show in. his native village. This itinerant manager, with his company of wooden comedians, large as life, on his arrival sent forth his pickle herring, with fife and drum, to announce his performance: the quality of the place, including the squire, the attorney, the apothecary, the exciseman, and the church-warden of the village, with their ladies, attended the performance. The ROSCIUS of the drama, Mr. Punch, excited the warmest admiration of the audience, he was all eloquence, wit, and pleasantry, and so fascinated the lady of the squire, and chief magistrate in particular, that, on her return home, she talked and dreamed of nothing but Mr. Punch, and at last made a positive demand of her husband that he should purchase: Mr. Punch from: the manager, as an ornament to her cabinet. In vain did her worshipful spouse remonstrate, and inveigh against the folly of such a whim, in vain did he warn her of what the neighbours would say; he talked to no purpose, Punch she must have, she could not live without him. .”The gray mare was the better horse:’—the magistrate: was obliged to comply, and the very next day concluded:an expensive treaty. with the manager for the purchase of his chief actor. But when punch was transferred to my lady’s chamber, all his faculties failed him, all his vivacity vanished; he could neither talk, joke, laugh, nor amuse, as he was wont. The lady tried to rouse his spirits, she raised one hand, but it fell lifeless by his side; she tried the other, with the
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sum effect; she chucked him under the chin, but his jaw fell again on his breast: and, in short, the lively, facetious, and diverting Mr: Punch, became as dull, and dumb, as any of the right honourable puppets now in my eye;—the secret was, that Mr. Punch was not in his proper place, or under the same management which procured her liking: and, quite disappointed, she requested the squire to return him to his former quarters, with a handsome present to the manager, who soon restored Mr. Punch to all his former rich and he fein as Brent a sci da with the town as ever.” ~ This speech; so appositely applied to the learned serjeant, excited continual bursts of laughter at his expense: but it had the still stronger effect of deciding him never more to risk a similar lecture from the same quarter; for, the next day, he resigned his serjeant’s coif, and returned to his old post on the opposition bench.
The following extracts from Mr. Curran’s speech upon the pension bill, on the 135th of March, 1786, are admirable specimens of grave and sarcastic humour:
“This polyglot of wealth, this museum of curiosities, the pension list, embraces every link in the human chain, every description of men, women, and children, from the exalted excellence of a Hawke or a Rodney, to the debased situation of the lady who humbleth herself that she may be exalted. But the lessons it inculcates form its greatest perfection: it teacheth, that sloth and vice may eat that bread, which virtue and honesty may starve for, after they had earned it. It teaches the idle and dissolute to look up for that support which they are too proud to stoop and earn. It directs the minds of men to an entire reliance on the ruling power of the state, who feed the ravens of the royal aviary, that cry continually for food, It teaches them to imitate those saints on the pension list, that are like the lilies of the field—they toil not, neither do they spin, and yet are arrayed like Solomon in his glory. In fine, it teaches a lesson which indeed they might have learned from Epictetus—that it is sometimes good not to
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be. over-virtuous: it shews, that in proportion as our distresses increase, the munificence of the crown increases also—in proportion as our clothes are rent, the royal mantle is extended over us. But notwithstanding that the pension list, like charity, covers a multitude of sins, give me leave to consider it as coming home to the members of this house—give me leave to say, that the crown, in extending its charity, its liberality, its profusion, is laying a foundation for the independence of parliament; for hereafter, instead of orators or patriots accounting for their conduct to such mean and unworthy persons as freeholders, they will learn to despise them, and look to the first man in the state, and they will by so doing have this security for their independence,. that while any man in the kingdom has a shilling they will not want one. Suppose at any future period of time the boroughs of Ireland should decline from their present flourishing and prosperous state—suppose they should: fall into the hands of men who would wish to drive a profitable commerce, by having members of parliament to hire or let; in such a case a secretary would find great difficulty if the proprietors of members should enter into a combination to form a monopoly; to prevent which in time, the wisest way is to purchase up the raw material, young members of parliament, just rough from the grass, and when they are a little bitted, and he has got a pretty stud, perhaps of seventy, he may laugh at the slave-merchant: some of them he may teach to sound through the nose, like a barrel organ; .some, in the course of a few months, might be taught to cry hear! hear! some, chair! chair! upon occasion, though those latter might create a little confusion, if they were to forget whether they were calling inside or outside of those doors. Again, he might have some so trained that he need only pull a string, and up gets a repeating member; and if they were so dull that they could neither speak nor make orations, (for they are different things) he might have them taught to dance, pedibus ire in sententid.—This improvement might be extend
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ed; he might have them dressed in coats and shirts all of one colour, and of a Sunday he might march them to church two by two, to the great edification of the people and the honour of the christian religion; afterwards, like ancient Spartans, or the fraternity of Kilmainham, they might dine all together in a large hall. Good heaven! what a sight to see them feeding in public upon public viands, and talking of public subjects for the benefit of the public! It is a pity they are not immortal; but 1 hope they will flourish as a corporation, and that pensioners will beget pensioners to the end of the chapter.”
Notwithstanding the latitude to which freedom of speech is sometimes indulged in the house of commons, and the personal stings thus inflicted without provoking personal resentment, matters are sometimes carried beyond the pitch of senatorial gravity, or philosophic patience; the interchange of invective between Mr. Curran and some of — his political antagonists, has at times led to personal hostilities out of doors. In the Duke of Rutland’s viceroyalty, Mr. Fitzgibbon, the attorney-general (afterwards lord chancellor Clare) issued an attachment against the high sheriff of the county of Dublin (a Mr. O’Reilly), for complying with a requisition of certain freeholders, by calling a meeting to elect members for a conventional congress to effect a parliamentary reform. This incident led to an animated discussion in the house of commons, in which the question of attachments caused considerable disquisition, and'was argued with much zeal and learning. When Mr. Curran rose to speak, the attorney-general, whose professional as well as political character was deeply involved, sunk into a real or affected doze, in his seat: “I hope,” said Mr. Curran, (indignant at what he conceived contemptuous apathy,) “I may be allowed to speak to this great question, without disturbing the sleep. of any right honourable member: and yet, perhaps, ought rather to envy than blame his tranquillity; I do not feel myself so happily tempered as to be lulled to rest by the storms that shake the land: but if they invite rest to
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any, that rest ought not) to be lavished on the guilty spirit.”
When he had concluded his speech, the attorney-general, having replied to his arguments, concluded by desiring that “no puny babbler should attempt, with vile, unfounded calumny to blast the venerable character of the judges of the land.”
Mr. Curran immediately rose, and retorted — The gentleman has called me a puny babbler—I do not indeed recollect that there were sponsors at the baptismal font, nor was there any occasion, as the infant had promised and vowed so many things in his own name. Indeed, Sir, I find it difficult to reply, for am not accustomed to panegyrise myself. I do not well know how. to do so, but since I cannot tell the house what I am, I will tell them what I am not: I am not a young man whose respect in person and character depends upon the importance of his office;— I am, nota man who thrusts himself into the foreground of a picture which ought to be occupied by a better figure;—I am not a man who replies by invective, when sinking under the weight of argument; I am not a man who denied the necessity of parliamentary reform, at the time he proved the expediency of it by reviling his own constituents, the parish clerk, the sexton, and the grave-digger (Mr. F. was member for a rotten borough); and if there be any man here who can apply what Iam not to himself, leave him to think of it in the committee, and contemplate it when he goes home.” The consequence of this altercation was'a message from Mr. Fitzgibbon. The parties met, and exchanged shots. without injury; and thus the affair ended, without apology or explanation.
He once had an affair with his friend Mr. Egan; but neither were hurt.
Now that we are on the subject of duels, Mr. Curran long subsequent to this incident, was involved in another duel, perhaps not so creditable to his spirit. .. A gentleman, who held a place in the customs, was one of the parliamentary reporters employed at the charge of government,
wu
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to attend the house of commons, and detail the debates there, with due attention to the ministerial speakers, whose speeches were either very partially given, or wholly suppressed, in the popular prints of the day. To this gentleman, who-was certainly a man of very competent ability, and: who was sitting in the gallery one night, Mr. Curran, in one of his phillipics against the profusion of ministers, alluded personally, by a very gross epithet, charging ministers with “:sending a miscreant into that gallery, at the public expense, to misrepresent the speeches of members on that side of the house.” He mentioned no name; and if he had, it would have been a breach of privilege to calla member to account out of doors for words uttered in parliament. The next day, however, this gentleman saw Mr. Curran in the street, in company with his friend Mr. Egan, and shook his walking-stick at him across the way. Mr. Curran, perhaps, thinking it beneath his dignity to notice the person from whom this affront. proceeded, took another course, which he probably thought more honourable, and which was to send his friend Mr, Egan, with a message to the chief secretary, Major Hobart (the late Earl of Buckinghamshire) demanding this alternative—either, that he should immediately dismiss the offender from his place in the customs, or meet Mr. Curran in the field. Major Hobart, with great calmness, answered that he had nothing to do with the private quarrels of the gentleman in question; nor could he assume any control over his conduct beyond the line of his: office: but, as he had always understood he was a faithful public officer in the discharge of his duty, he certainly could not think of dismissing him for the) private cause stated. -Mr. Egan then mentioned the other alternative: to which Major Hobart replied, that it was somewhat singular he should be called on thus by a gentleman with whom he had no personal difference; however, he was a soldier, and did not consider himself at liberty to decline the invitation. The parties met, with their seconds, Mr. Curran called on his antagonist: to fire first. Major
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Hobart declined, saying he came there to give, and not to take, satisfaction. Mr. Curran then fired, without effect, and again called on Major Hobart, who had reserved his shot, but declined firing. Mr. Curran said he could not fire until the major took his turn. The major still refused; and said the gentleman might use his own discretion, and fire again if he pleased. This produced a short pause, and some conversation between Mr. Curran and: his seconds. Major Hobart, after waiting some time, desired to know if the gentleman had any further commands for him? Which being answered in the negative, as he would not fire, he bowed, and walked coolly off the ground to his carriage. The triumph in this affair certainly” was not with Mr, Curran. . The animosity of Mr. Fitzgibbon towards Mr. Gutatds by no means terminated in the affair of their duel. Parliamentary discussion frequently brought them into contact. Both were men of first-rate talents, equally prone to irritation and keen asperity; constantly opposed on every great subject of debate; and, like two thunder clouds, they rarely approached each other without reciprocally exciting electric sparks, which shewed a constant aptitude: for mutual explosion. Mr. Fitzgibbon was proud and disdainful; and apt to mark, by his manner, a feeling of conscious superiority towards those he considered his inferiors in connection, rank, and authority. Mr. Curran probably felt himself assorted amongst the number, and scorned to succumb; few, if any, occasions were suffered to pass without marking this feeling. But an incident occurred which gave Mr. Fitzgibbon a permanent opportunity of marking his peculiar hostility to Mr. Curran, infinitely more illustrative of an implacable spirit, than of a mind fitted to the high station to which his political stars had destined him. ail short, the old chancellor, Lord Lifford, died about the time of his majesty’s first mental malady, and the Jong and ardent services of Mr. Fitzgibbon against the opposition phalanx in parliament, and against every symptom of popular spirit out of it, crowned
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by his marked opposition to the regency question, under Lord Buckingham’s vice-royalty, recommended him to the vacant seals and woolsack; and he changed his office of diabolus regis for that of custos conscientia.
On taking leave of the bar, he marked his respect for the talents of Mr. Ponsonby, a strong political opponent, by presenting that gentleman with his bag of briefs; but he carried with him to the chancery bench all his hostility to Mr. Curran, who, from the notoriety of this fact, soon felt its effects in the rapid decay of his chancery business, which had been by far the most lucrative branch of his practice. For this-misfortune there was no practical remedy; because, if even Mr. Curran had not been too proud for conciliatory remonstrance, or obsequious humility, the chancellor was of too unrelenting a disposition to relax his old resentments—the ear of the judge was to Curran, like the “Dull cold ear of death.” The chancery solicitors observed this marked hostility; the client participated in the disfavour of his counsel, whose practice was soon reduced exclusively to Nisi Prius. 1 made,” said he, in a letter to Mr. Grattan twenty years afterwards, “no compromise with power; I had the merit of provoking and despising the personal malice of every man in Ireland who was known-to be the enemy of the country. Without the walls. of the courts of justice, my character was pursued. with the most persevering slander; and within those walls, though I was too strong to be beaten down by judicial malignity, it was not so with my clients; and my consequent losses in professional income have never been estimated at less, as you must have often heard, than thirty thousand pounds a year.”
While Mr, Curran smarted under the rapid extenuation of his chancery practice, a ludicrous occasion occurred for marking his cool and contemptuous feeling for the noble author. Lord Clare, who, when off the bench, assumed as proud a disregard for the decorous formalities of his station, as for his importance in it, generally walked to his court, accompanied by a large favourite Newfoundland dog,
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which became afterwards his associate on the bench; and one day while Mr. Curran addressed his lordship in a most elaborate argument, the chancellor, as if to mark his utter disregard, amused himself, by fondling his dog, to which he paid much more attention than to the learned advocate. This gross indecency was observed by) the whole bar. Mr. Curran stopped for some time, but the chancellor missing his voice, and twitched by his silence, to an effort of attention, said with an air of the coldest indifference, “Proceed, Mr. Curran, proceed.” “I beg pardon, my Lords,” answered Curran, “I really thought your lordships were employed in consultation, but as your lordships are now at leisure, I will proceed, then my lords, as I have already observed to your lordships.” The dog and his master were so aptly and so ludicrously conjoined in this allusion, that his lordship, with marked chagrin, thought fit to dismiss his shaggy vice-chancellor, and resume his attention, perhaps more to the symptoms of suppressed laughter that mantled on the countenances of the whole bar, than to the arguments of the learned advocate.
But although Mr. Curran was debarred of redress in that court where his ennobled adversary ruled paramount, an incident occurred in the city which gave him the opportunity of taking as ample a revenge before a higher tribunal, as the junction of his talents and indignation could suggest. In the year 1790, a dispute arose between hostile parties in the corporation about the choice of a lord mayor for the ensuing year. The sheriffs and common-council elected a popular alderman, named Harrison, but the board of aldermen refused their sanction to this choice, and elected a worshipful brother, of quite opposite principles, named. James, as the chief magistrate next in rotation, but whom the commons on their part rejected. By certain rules long established by the privy council, under the authority of an act of parliament, no man could be lord mayor unless first approved by the viceroy in council; and those rules directed, that in case of such dis-
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putes as this, the lord-lieutenant and privy council for the time being, should be the umpires. Appeal was accordingly made to them, by; petitions from both bodies. A day for hearing was appointed, — the privy council assembled, — Lord Westmorland, then viceroy, presided at the board — Lord Clare was also present —— Mr. Ponsonby and Mr. Curran attended as counsel for the commons in support of Alderman Harrison. The council was extremely full, and the council-chamber thronged with respectable citizens. When.it came to Mr. Curran’s turn to address the board, he did so in perhaps one of the most eloquent orations he ever uttered, and of which the following are but very short extracts.
“But, my lords; how must these considerations (former contests ofa similar kind, and laws enacted for their adjustment) have been enforced by a view of Ireland as a connected country, deprived as it was of almost all the advantages of a hereditary monarch: the father of his people residing at a, distance, and the paternal beams reflected upon his children through such a variety of mediums, sometimes too languidly to warn them,—sometimes so intensely as to consume them: a succession of governors differing from each other in their tempers, in their talents, in their virtues, and of course in their systems of administrations. Unprepared in general for rule, by any previous institution; and utterly unacquainted with the people they were to govern, and with the men through whose agency they were to act. Sometimes, my lords, tis true a rare individual appeared amongst us, as if sent, by the bounty of Providence in. compassion for human miseries, marked by that dignified simplicity of manly character which is the mingled result of enlightened understanding, and elevated integrity, commanding a respect that he laboured not to. inspire*. It)is but eight years since we saw such a man amongst us raising a degraded country from, the condition of a province to the rank and
* Alluding to the Duke of Portland, under whom Ireland completed her independent constitution,
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consequence of a people, worthy to be the ally of a mighty empire, on the firm and honourable basis of equal liberty and a common fate, standing or falling with Great Britain. But how short is the continuance of those auspicious gleams of public sunshine! How soon are they past, perhaps for ever! In -what rapid and fatal revolution has Ireland seen the talents and the virtues of such men give place to a succession of sordid parade and empty pretension; of bloated promise and lank performance; of austere hypocrisy and peculating economy. Hence it is, my lords, that the administration of Ireland so often presents to the reader of her history, the view not of a legitimate government, but rather of an encampment in the country of a barbarous enemy; where the object of the invader is not dominion, but conquest. Where he is obliged to resort to the corruption of the clans, or of single individuals, pointed out to his notice by public abhorrence, and recommended to his confidence only by a treachery so rank and consummate, as precludes all possibility of their return to private virtue, or to public reliance; and therefore, only put into authority over a wretched country, condemned to the torture of all that petulant, unfeeling asperity with which a narrow and malignant mind will bristle, in its unmerited elevation; condemned to be betrayed, and disgraced, and exhausted by the little traitors that have been suffered to nestle and to grow within it, making it at once the source of their grandeur, and the victim of their vices: reducing it to the melancholy necessity of supporting their consequence, and of sinking under their crimes, like the Lion perishing by the poison of a reptile that finds shelter in the mane of the noble animal, while it stings him to death.”
“Tn this very chamber did the chancellor and judges sit (in the reign of Queen Anne and the chancellorship of Mr. Constantine Phipps) with all the gravity and affected attention to arguments in favour of that liberty, and those rights which they had conspired to destroy... But to what end, my lords, offer argument to such men? A little and a
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peevish mind may be exasperated, and how shall it be corrected by refutation? How fruitless would it have been to represent to that wretched chancellor, that he was betraying those rights which he was sworn to maintain;—that he was involving a government in disgrace, and a kingdom in panic and consternation; that he was violating every sacred duty, and every solemn engagement, that bound him to his sovereign, his country, and his God! — Alas! — my lords, by what argument could any man hope to reclaim or dissuade a mean, illiberal, and unprincipled minion of authority, induced by his profligacy to undertake, and bound by his avarice and vanity to persevere? He would probably have replied to the most unanswerable arguments by some curt, contumelious, and unmeaning apophthegm, delivered with the fretful smile of irritated self-sufficiency, and disconcerted arrogance; or even if he should be dragged by his fears to a consideration of the question, by what miracie could the pigmy capacity of a stunted pedant be enlarged to a reception of the subject? The endeavour to approach it would: have only removed him to a greater distance than he was before, as a little hand that strives to grasp a mighty globe, is thrown back by the reaction of its own effort to comprehend. It may be given to a HALE or a HARDWICKE to discover and retract a mistake. The errors of such men.are only specks that arise for a moment on the surface of a splendid luminary, consumed by its heat or irradiated by its light, they soon disappear. But the perverseness of a mean and narrow intellect are like the excrescences that grow on bodies naturally cold and dark; no fire to waste them, and no ray to enlighten, they assimilate and coalesce with those qualities so congenial to their nature; and acquire an incorrigible permanency in the union with kindred frost and kindred opacity.. Nor indeed, my lords, except where the interest of millions can be affected by the vice or the folly of an individual, need it be much regretted that to things not worthy of being made better, it hath
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not pleased Providence to afford the privilege of improvement.”
This description of Mr. Constantine Phipps was but a masked battery playing on the character of Lord Clare; every shot told upon his feelings, and on those of the whole auditory.
Amongst all the parliamentary antagonists of Mr. Curran, there was none who more sorely writhed under his tooth, than Dr. Duigenan. The former was the zealous advocate for the catholics—the latter their most furious and bigotted antagonist. Whenever the question of their emancipation was agitated in parliament, the Doctor was unmuzzled and let loose to oppose them; and usually discharged upon their history, their principles, their character, and religion, and even upon their advocates, such a torrent of abuse, as sometimes shocked even the nerves of his own partisans. “He scorned any thing,” says Mr. Grattan, “which was classical, moderate, or refined, and preferred as more effectual, the foul, the gross and scandalous;—that, with all the garbage his imagination could collect, with whatever flowers the fish-market could furnish, every thing which the streets could administer to the learned Doctor’s taste and refinement, he assailed all men, and all bodies of men, overlaid them with such a profusion of filth, as to amaze all who were not acquainted with the ways and customs of the learned Doctor.”
He had attacked Mr. Curran, in the debate on the catholic question in 1796; but Mr. Curran, in his reply to the Doctor, lightened upon him for half an hour, and effectually singed him by the flashes of his wit.
“The learned Doctor,” he said, “had made himself a very prominent feature in the debate; furious indeed had been his anger, and manifold his attacks. What argument, what man, or what thing had he “of abused; half choked by his rage in striving to refute those who had spoken, he had relieved himself by abusing those who had not spoken. He had abused the catholies, their ancestors; he had abused
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the merchants of Ireland; he had abused Mr. Burke; he had abused those who voted for the order of the day. I do not know (continued he) but I ought to thank the learned Doctor for honouring me with a place in his invective. He has styled me the bottle-holder of my right honourable friend: (Mr. Grattan), but sure I am, that if I had been the bottle-holder of both, the learned Doctor: would have less reason to complain of me than my right honourable friend; for him I should have left perfectly sober, whilst it would clearly appear, that the bottle, with respect to the learned Doctor, would have been managed, not only fairly but generously; and that if, in furnishing him with liquor {had not furnished him with argument, I had at least furnished him with a good excuse for wanting it; with, indeed, the best excuse for that confusion of history, and divinity, and civil law, and common law; that heterogeneous mixture of politics, and theology, and antiquity, with which he has overwhelmed the debate, and the havoc and carnage he has made of the population of the last age, and the fury with which he has seemed determined to exterminate, and even to devour the population of this, and which urged him, after tearing the character of the catholics, to spend the last efforts of his rage with the most relentless ferocity in actually gnawing their names, (alluding to the Doctor’s enunciation of the name of Keogh, which he pronounced Keoaugh), In truth, Sir,” continued he, “I felt some surprise, and some regret, when I heard him describe the sceptre of lath, and tiara of straw; and mimic his bedlamite emperor and pope, with such refined and happy gesticulation, that he could be prevailed on to quit so congenial a company. should not, however, be disposed to hasten his return to them, or to precipitate the access of his fit, if by a most unlucky felicity of indiscretion, he had not dropped some: doctrines which the silent approbation of the minister seemed to adopt. I do not mean, amongst those doctrines, to place the learned Docto:’s opinion of the revolution, nor his wise and valorous plan in case of invasion, to arm the beadles and the sextons, and put
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himself in wind for an attack on the French by a massacre of the papists. The opinion I mean is, that catholic franchise is. inconsistent with British connections. Strong, indeed, must the minister be in so wild and desperate a prejudice, if he can venture, in the present fallen: state of this empire, under the disasters of war, and with an enemy at our gates, if he can dare to state to the great body-of the Irish nation, that their slavery is the condition of our connection with England: that she is more afraid of yielding Irish liberty, than of losing Irish connection; and though the denunciation is not yet upon record, yet it may be left with the learned Doctor, who, I hope, has embraced it only to make it odious; has hugged in his arms only with the generous purpose of plunging with it into the deep, and exposing it to merited derision, by hazarding the character of his own sanity. It is yet in) the power of the minister to decide, whether a, blasphemy of this kind shall pass for the mere ravings of polemical phrenzy, or for the solemn and mischievous lunacy of a chief secretary: 1 call therefore again on that minister, to rouse him from his trance, and in the hearing of both countries, to put the question to him, which must be heard by a third, whether, at no period, upon no event, at no extremity, are we to hope for any connection with Great Britain, except that of the master and the slave; and this, even without the assertion of any fact that can support such a proscription.” During the administration of Lord ES hl Ear] Fitzwilliam was sent viceroy to Ireland, and hailed by the whole country as the harbinger of sedalching and peace; and it was expected as a matter of course, that all the leading members who had most strenuously advocated those measures in Ireland, which Lord Rockingham and Mr. Fox had supported in England, would be called into office, under Earl Fitzwilliam. This expectation, however, was not fulfilled; for although Mr. Grattan and Mr. Ponsonby were called to high and confidential situations, as were some others of their friends, Mr. Curran
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and Mr. Egan were passed by unnoticed, and both felt the circumstance with disappointment and chagrin. The reign of the new elèves was, however, but short; for Earl Fitzwilliam, debarred by a majority of the British cabinet who sent him, from fulfilling the promises he was authorised to hold out, demanded his recall: Mr. Grattan and Mr. Ponsonby repassed to the opposition bench, and Mr. Curran never returned to a seat in parliament after the next dissolution, which took place. It has before been stated, that parliament was not the theatre most favourable to the display of his eloquence. The bar was his best field; there his talents had long shone with refulgent light: but there was comparatively little in the forensic arena to excite their full force previous to the point of time at which Lord Fitzwilliam retired. It was during the agitated state of the country which speedily followed, that those opportunities occurred in the government prosecutions for libels, sedition, and high treason, in which Mr. Curran was usually retained for the accused parties, that his eloquence blazed out with such dazzling splendour, and formed what may be termed the Augustan era of his extraordinary talents. His speeches on those trials have been collected and published in one volume; and although confessedly under the disadvantage of imperfect reports, and defective of his own revision and amendments, still do they present such monuments of his oratorical powers, as if, ever equalled, were certainly never surpassed in the English language, and which, like the classic productions of Greece and Rome, will afford permanent models worthy the emulation of future orators.
The following able criticism on his style and talents, is extracted from the Edinburgh Review, of October 1814. — “The wits of Queen Anne’s time practised a style characterised by purity, smoothness, and a kind of simple and temperate elegance. Their reasoning was correct and luminous, and their raillery terse and refined; but they never so much as aimed at touching the greater passions,
or rising to the loftier graces of composition. Their
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sublimity was little more than a graceful and gentle solemnity; their invective went no farther than polished sarcasm, nor their vehemence than pretty vivacity. Even the older writers who dealt in larger views and stronger language, the Hookes, and Taylors, and Barrows, and Miltons, although they possessed beyond all doubt, an original and commanding eloquence, had little of nature, or rapid movement of passions about them. Their diction, though powerful, is loaded and laborious, and their imagination, though rich and copious, is neither playful nor popular; even the celebrated orators of England have deen deficient in some of their characteristics, The rhetoric of Fox was logic; the eloquence of Pitt consisted mainly in his talent for sarcasm, and for sounding amplification. Neither of them had much pathos and but little play of fancy.
Yet the style of which we speak (Mr. Curran’s) is now familiar to the English public. It was introduced by an Irishman, and may be clearly traced to the genius of Burke. There was no such composition known in England before his day. Bolingbroke, whom he is sometimes said to have copied, had none of it; he is infinitely more careless; he is infinitely less impassioned; he has no such variety of imagery—no such flights of poetry—no such touches of tenderness—no such visions of philosophy. The style has been defiled since, indeed, by base imitations and disgusting parodies; and in its more imitable parts, has been naturalised and transfused into the recent literature of our country: but it was of Irish origin, and still attains to its highest honours only in its native soil. For this we appeal to the whole speaking and writing of that nation, to the speeches of Mr. Grattan, and even to the volume before us. With less of deep thought than the connected compositions of Burke, and less of point and polish than the magical effusions of Grattan, it still bears the impression of that inflamed fancy which characterises the eloquence of both, and is distinctly assimilated to them by those traits of national resemblance.”,
In attempting to select passages from the volume alluded
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to in illustration of the opinion of this: judicious critic, judgment is bewildered amid the infinite variety of beauties. To quote every excellence would be almost: to transcribe them entire. They are like portions of a splendid and masterly picture, each a part of one great whole, and all designed to reflect, and set off the characters and beauties of each other. It is in fact like picking brilliants from their tasteful settings, where their juxta-position doubles their splendour; or taking detached features and members from the Medicean Venus, or the Farnese Hercules, to give adequate notions of the beauty, or the strength which the entire statues can alone convey. We have ventured to cite some passages, without, however, presuming to say they are the best,—and. we refer the reader to the last edition of the Speeches themselves for the full enjoyment of all their excellence.
In the trial of Major Sirr, upon an action for assault and false imprisonment on a Mr. Hevey, one of the numerous circumstances of wanton atrocity distinctive of the period, Mr. Curran gives this statement of the transaction: “On the 8th of September last, Mr. Hevey was sitting in a public coffee-house, Major Sirr was there. Mr. Hevey was informed that the major had at that moment said, he (Hevey) ought to have been hanged. The plaintiff was fired at the charge; he fixed his eye on Sirr, and asked if he’had dared to say so? Sirr declared that he had, and said it truly. Hevey answered that he was a slanderous scoundrel. At the instant, Sirr rushed upon him, and, assisted by three or four of his satellites, who had attended him in disguise, secured him and sent him to the castle guard, desiring that a receipt might be given for the villain. — He was sent thither. — The officer of the guard chanced to be an Englishman but lately arrived in Ireland; he said to the constable, If this was in England, I should think this gentleman entitled to bail. But I don’t know the laws of this country; however, I think you had
better loosen those irons upon his wrists, or they may kill him.
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“Here he was flung into a room of about thirteen feet by twelve. It was called the hospital of the provost. It was occupied by six beds; on which were to lie fourteen, or fifteen miserable wretches; some of them sinking under contagious diseases. Here he passed the first night, without bed or food. The next morning his humane keeper, Major Sandys, appeared. The plaintiff demanded why he was imprisoned? complained of hunger; and asked for the gaol allowance. Major Sandys replied, by a torrent of abuse, which he concluded by saying, Your crime is your insolence to Major Sirr; however, he disdains to trample upon you. You may appease him by proper and contrite submission; but, unless you do so, you shall rot where you are. I tell you this, that, if government will not protect us, by God we will not protect them. You will probably (for know your insolent and ungrateful hardiness) attempt to get out by an habeas corpus; but, in that you will find yourself mistaken, as such a rascal deserves. Hevey was insolent enough to issue an habeas corpus; and a return was made upon it, that Hevey was in custody under a warrant from General Craig, on a charge of high treason; which return was grossly false.”
“If,” says the reviewer, “it be the test of supreme genius to produce strong and permanent emotions, the passages which we have quoted must be in the very highest style of eloquence. There is not a subject of these kingdoms, we hope, that can read them without feeling his blood boil, and his heart throb with indignation; and without feeling that any government, which could tolerate or connive at such proceedings, held out a bounty to rebellion which it would be almost dastardly to reject. The eloquence of these passages is the facts they recite; and it is far more powerful than baat which depends upon the mere fancy or art of the orator.
There are. many passages, however, of this dedesiniieb in the volume before us, which deserves to be quoted. —Mr. Curran is giving a specimen of the state of his country, at the time that General Abercrombie, after his
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appointment to the chief command of the army, retired in disgust at its utter want of discipline, and the licentious horrors it was daily extending through the country; infinitely better calculated to excite rebellion than deter and suppress it.
“If, for instance,” says he, “you wish to convey to the mind of an English matron the horrors of that direful period, when, in defiance of the remonstrance of the everto-be-lamented Abercrombie, our people were surrendered to the licentious brutality of the soldiery, by the authority of the state, you: would vainly endeavour to give her a general picture of lust, and rapine, and murder, and conflagration. Instead of exhibiting the picture of an entire province, select a single object;—do not release the imagination of your hearer from its task, by giving more than an outline. Take a cottage; place the affrighted mother of her orphan daughters at the door; the paleness: of death upon her countenance, and more than its agonies in her heart. Her aching eye, her anxious ear struggles through the mists of closing day to catch the approaches of desolation and dishonour. The ruffian gang arrives,— the feast of plunder begins,—the cup of madness kindles in its circulation. The wandering glances of the ravisher become concentrated upon the devoted victim. You need not dilate,—you need not expatiate. The unpolluted mother to whom you tell the story of horror, beseeches you not to proceed. She presses her child to her bosom,—she drowns it in her tears. Her. fancy catches more than an angel’s tongue could describe; at a single view she takes in the whole miserable succession of force, of profanation, of despair, of death. So it is in the question before us. If any man shall hear of this day’s transaction, he cannot be so foolish as to suppose that we have been confined to a single character like those now brought before you.”
On the trial of Archibald Hamilton Rowen, Esq. for the publication of a seditious libel, Mr. Curran uttered a most magnificent oration, embracing the whole variety of
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topics which at that time agitated the public mind. We select the following as peculiar for their force and beauty.
On the universal emancipation of all minor sects from the penal and prescriptive statute for the ascendency of the established church.
“I put it to your oaths, gentlemen of the jury; do you think that a blessing of that kind, that a victory obtained by justice over bigotry and oppression, should have a stigma cast upon it by an ignominious sentence upon men bold. and honest enough to propose the measure? To propose the redeeming of religion from the abuses of the church? The reclaiming of three millions of men from bondage, and giving liberty to all who had a right to demand it? Giving, I say, in the so much censured words of this paper, giving universal emancipation. I speak in the spirit of the British law, which makes liberty commensurate with, and inseparable from, British soil; which proclaims, even to the stranger and the sojourner, the moment he sets his foot on British earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy and consecrated to the genius of universal emancipation. © No matter in what language his doom may have been pronounced;—no matter what complexion incompatible with freedom, an Indian or an African sun may have burnt upon him;—no matter in what disastrous battle his liberty may have been cloven down;— no matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted on the altar of slavery; the first moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar and the god sink together in the dust. His soul walks abroad in her own majesty 5 his body swells beyond the measure of his chains that burst from around him; and he stands redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled by the irresistible genius of universal emancipation.”
On the liberty of the press.
‘f What then remains? The liberty of the press uly 4 the sacred-palladium, which no influence, no power, no
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minister, no government, which nothing but the depravity, or folly, or corruption of a jury, can ever destroy. And what calamities are the people saved from by having public communication left open to them? I will tell you, gentlemen, what they are saved from, and what the government is saved from; I will tell you also to what both are exposed by shutting up that communication. In, one case sedition speaks aloud, and walks abroad; the demagogue goes forth; the public eye is upon him; he frets his busy hour upon the stage; but soon either weariness; or bribe, or punishment, or disappointment, bears him down, or drives him off, and he appears no more. In the other case, how does the work of sedition go forward? Night after night the muffled rebel steals forth in the dark, and casts another and another brand upon the pile to which, when the hour of fatal maturity shall arrive, he will apply the flame. If you doubt of the horrid consequences, of suppressing the effusion even of individual discontent, look to those enslaved countries where the protection of despotism is supposed to be secured by such restraints. Even the person of the despot there is never in safety; neither the fears of the despot, nor the machinations of the slave, have any slumber; the one anticipating the moment of peril, the other watching for the opportunity of aggression. The fatal crisis is equally a surprise upon both; the decisive instant is precipitated without warning, by folly on the one side; or by frenzy on the,other; and there, is no notice of the treason till the traitor acts; In those unfortunate countries (one cannot read it without horror) there are officers whose province it.is to have the water, which is to be drunk by their rulers, sealed up in bottles, lest some wretched miscreant should throw poison into the draught. 2 F
“But, gentlemen, if you wish for a nearer and more interesting example, you have it in the history of your own revolution. You have it at the memorable period when the monarch found a servile acquiescence in the ministers of his folly; when the liberty of the press was trodden
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under foot; when venal sheriffs returned packed juries to carry into effect those fatal conspiracies of the few against the many; when the devoted benches of public justice were filled by some of those foundlings of fortune, who, overwhelmed in. the torrent of corruption at an early period, lay at the bottom like drowned bodies, while soundness or sanity remained in them; but, at length becoming buoyant by putrefaction, they rose as they rotted, and floated to the surface of the polluted stream, where they were drifted along, the objects, of terror, pestilence, and abomination. In that awful moment of a nation’s travail; of the last gasp of tyranny, and the first breath of freedom, how pregnant is the example. The press extinguished, the people enslaved, and the prince undone. As the advocate of society, therefore of peace, of domestic liberty, and of the lasting union of both countries, conjure you to guard the liberty of the press, that great [s]entinel of the state, that grand detector of public imposture. Guard it, because, when it sinks, there sink with it, in one common grave, the liberty of the subject, and the security of the crown.
“Gentlemen, I rejoice, for the sake of the court, the jury, and the public repose, that this question has not been brought forward till now. In Great Britain analogous circumstances have taken place. At the commencement of that unfortunate war, which has deluged Europe with blood, the spirit of the English people was tremulously alive to the terror of French principles. At that moment of general paroxysm, to accuse was to convict; the danger seemed larger to the public eye from the misty medium through which:it was surveyed. We measure inaccessible heights from the shadows which they project; where the lowness and the distance of the light form the length of the shade. There is a sort of aspiring andiadventitious credulity which disdains assenting to obvious truths, and delights in catching at the improbability of circumstances as its best ground of faith. To what other cause, gentlemen, can you ascribe, that, in the wise, the reflecting, the
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philosophic nation of Great Britain, a printer has been found guilty of a libel for publishing those resolutions to which the present minister of that kingdom (Mr. Pitt) had actually subscribed his name? To what other cause can-you ascribe, what in my mind is still more astonishing, that in such a country as Scotland—a nation cast in the happy medium between the spiritless acquiescence of submissive poverty, and the sturdy credulity of pampered wealth: cool and ardent, adventurous and persevering, winging her eagle flight against the blaze of every science with an eye that never winks, and a wing that never tires; crowned as she is with the spoils of every art, and decked with the wreath of every muse, from the deep and scrutinizing researches of her Hume, to the sweet and simple, but not less sublime and pathetic morality of her Burns; how from the bosom of a country like that, genius and character, and talents, should: be banished to a distant, barbarous soil; condemned to pine under the horrid communion of vulgar vice and base-born profligacy for twicethe period that ordinary calculation gives to the continuance of human life? (alluding to the transportation of Messrs. Muir, Palmer, &c. to Botany Bay.[”]
The orator then proceeded to depict a.splendid portrait of the amiable character of his client, and concluded his peroration by this forcible appeal:
«I will not: relinquish the confidence that this day will be the period of his sufferings; and, however mercilessly he has been. hitherto pursued, that your verdict, gentlemen, will: send him home.to the arms of his family, and the wishes of his country: but if, which heaven forbid! it hath «still been unfortunately determined, that. because he has not bent to power and authority, because he would not bow down before the golden calf and. worship it, he is to be bound and cast into the furnace; I do trust in God, that there is a redeeming spirit in the constitution, which will be seento walk. with: the sufferer through the flame, and to preserve him unhurt through the conflagration.”
Mr. Curran’s eloquence failed with the jury, for they
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convicted his client; but his last hope was prophetic; for his client was fined 500/. and bound and cast into the furnace of Newgate, for two years; and the redeeming spirit of an amiable and heroic wife, walked with the sufferer through the flames,” and by a notable stratagem extricated him from his prison, and saved him from the moral certainty of concerted destruction, had her plan been deferred or defeated.
Mr, Curran’s next display was in the defence of a Mr. Finnerty, the publisher of a newspaper, entitled the Press: the whole of which speech was an uninterrupted blaze of eloquence. Canvassing the motives of government for this and similar prosecutions, and comparing transactions of this period to earlier occurrences in the reign of James Il.—
“1 see you, gentlemen, turn your eyes to those pages of governmental abandorment, of popular degradation, of expiring liberty, and of merciless and sanguinary persecutions; to that miserable period in which the fallen and abject state of man might have been almost an argument in the mouth of the atheist, and the blasphemer against the existence of an all-just and an all-wise First Cause; if the glorious era, of the revolution that followed. it, had not refuted the impious inference, by shewing, that if man descends, it is not in hisown proper motion: that itis with labour and with pain; and that he can continue to sink only until by the force and pressure of the descent the spring of his immortal faculties acquires that recuperative energy and effort that hurries him.as many miles aloft,— he sinks but to rise again. It is at that period that the state seeks for shelter in the destruction of the press;, it is at a period like that the ryRANT: prepares for an attack upon the people, by destroying the liberty of the press; by taking away that shield of wisdom and virtue, behind which the people are invulnerable, but in whose pure and polished convex, ere the lifted blow has fallen, he beholds his own image, and is turned into stone. It is at these periods that the honest man dares not speak, because truth
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is too dreadful to be told. It is then humanity has no ears, because humanity has no tongue. It is then the proud man scorns to speak; but, like a physician baffled by the wayward excesses of a dying patient, retires indignantly from the bed of an unhappy wretch, whose ear is too fastidious to bear the sound of wholesome advice; whose palate is too debauched.to bear the salutary bitter of the medicine that might redeem him; and therefore leaves him to the felonious. piety of the slaves that talk to him of life, and strip him before he is cold. I do not wish, gentlemen, to exhaust too much of your attention by following this subject through the last century with much minuteness. But the facts are too recent in your mind not to shew you that the liberty of the press, and the liberty of the people, sink or rise together, and that the liberty of speaking, and the liberty of acting, have shared exactly the same fate.”:
Appealing to history on the subject of the libel, which was the capital punishment of a Mr. Orr, upon the verdict of a drunken jury, and the speech of the attorney-general:
“Gentlemen, I am not unconscious that the learned counsel for the crown seemed to address you with a confidence of a very different kind from mine. He seemed to expect a kind of respectful sympathy from you with the feelings of the castle and the griefs of chided authority: Perhaps, gentlemen, he may know you better than I do: if he does, he has spoken to you as he ought; he has been right in telling you, that if the reprobation of this. is weak, it is because his genius could not make it stronger; he has been right in telling you, that his language has not been braided and festooned as elegantly as it might; that he has not pinched the miserable plaits of his phraseology, nor placed his patches and feathers with that correctness of millinery which became so exalted a person. If you agree with him, gentlemen; if you think the man who ventures, at the hazard of his own life, to rescue from the deep, the drowned honour of his country, must not presume upon the guilty familiarity of
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plucking it by the locks,—I have no more to say. Do a courteous thing, upright and honest jurors! find a civil and obliging verdict against this printer; and when you have done so, march through the ranks of your fellow citizens to your own homes, and bear their looks as they pass along. Retire to the bosom of your families; and when you are presiding over the morality of the parental board, tell your children, who are to be the future men of Ireland, the history of this day. Form their young minds by your precepts, and confirm those precepts by your own example. Teach them how discreetly allegiance may be perjured on the table, or loyalty be forsworn in the jury box: and when you have done so, tel] them the story of Orr; tell them of his captivity, of his children, of his crime, of his hopes, of his disappointments, of his courage, and of his death. And, when you find your little hearers hanging on your lips; when you see their eyes overflow with sympathy and sorrow, and their young hearts bursting with the pangs of anticipated orphanism, tell them that you had the boldness and the justice to stigmatise the monster who had dared to publish the transaction.”
On the trial of Patrick Finney upon a charge of high treason, founded on the testimony of a common informer, named James O’Brien, who was afterwards executed. for a most atrocious murder; Mr. Curran thus stigmatised the informer and his evidence, in his appeal to the jury:
“Gentlemen, have you any doubt that it is the object of O’Brien to take down the prisoner for-the reward that follows? Have you not seen with what more than instinctive keenness this blood-hound has pursued his victim? How he has kept him in view from place to place, until he hunts him through the arenas of the court, to where the unhappy man now stands, hopeless of all succour, but that which your verdict shall afford. Ihave heard of assassination by sword, by pistol, by dagger: but here is a wretch who would dip the Evangelists in blood: if he thinks he has not sworn his victim to death, he is ready to swear on, without mercy and without end: but, oh!
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do not, I conjure you, suffer him to take an oath, the lips of the murderer should not pollute the purity of the Gospel. If he will swear, let it be on his knife, the proper and bloody symbol of his profession, and his livelihood.”
The other state trials on which Mr. Curran was retained for the accused, were those of Mr. Oliver Bond for high treason, and Owen Kirwan for the like crime; but both were convicted. The other more celebrated specimens of his forensic abilities were displayed in the case of the Rev. Charles Massey against the Marquis of Headfort, for crim. con, with the plaintiff’s wife; in the case of the King, against the Honourable Mr. Justice Johnson, where Mr. Curran, upon a habeas corpus, moved for the discharge of the learned judge from his illegal imprisonment, under a warrant issued for his apprehension, by Lord Ellenborough, chief justice of the king’s bench in England, in order to hold the learned judge to trial at Westminster, for a libel; and his splendid oration at the bar of the Irish house of commons, in behalf of Lady Pamela Fitzgerald and her children against the bill for the attainder of the late Lord Edward Fitzgerald. The two former are tolerably well reported in the volume before-mentioned, but the last is merely detached in substance, and, though it contains the materials of a most able argument on the case, it is but the dead body of an oration, which breathed in the delivery all the fire, animation, and pathos so peculiarly characteristic of Mr. Curran’s eloquence.
Having thus slightly sketched the portrait of this celebrated orator in his parliamentary and forensic characters, it may be desirable now to consider him in private life. Naturally enough it might be supposed that a barrister of such extensive practice at the bar, from the first rise of his professional celebrity, to the day he retired from the profession; and a senator who bore so distinguished a part on every important discussion for a long series of years, had but little time for the pleasures of social intercourse and the festive board: and yet no gentleman appeared to
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devote more time to both, nor was ever man more eminently qualified to render convivial society delightful. The same inexhaustible fund of genius, wit, and humour, which adorned and animated his forensic and senatorial eloquence, contributed in a more playful application, to enliven the society wherein he moved. His mind early stored. with all the riches of classic and scientific learning, and afterwards improved by his intercourse with the productions. of modern taste and literature, was an inexhaustible treasury of all that was splendid in each. His perception was intuitive, his memory boundless, and his fancy, ever on eagle wing, traversed the remotest regions of intellectual space: now hovering aloft and sporting in the tempest;— anon descending to glide over the sun-gilt vales of taste, wit, and pleasantry. A complete master in all the powers of rhetoric, he could touch at pleasure, and with exquisite skill, every chord of the soul like the strings of a harp, and elicit every tone to his purpose. He was tragedy, and comedy, and farce, by. turns; and the same company were alternately in tears from his pathos, electrified by his wit, or convulsed with laughter at his inimitable humour.
His villa, which he called the Priory, situate about four miles from the metropolis, at the foot of a mountain, and commanding a view of the bay, and a picturesque country, was a little temple devoted to hospitality. His style of living was simple; his table plain, but plentiful; his wines the best and most abundant; nothing appeared starched by affectation, or frozen. by ceremony. . His friends were always welcome at five. The sunshine of good-humour gilded every thing about him, and every man who brought mind to the banquet, was sure to enjoy “the feast of reason and the flow of soul.” It may seem a paradox, but it is not the less true, that many a guest has risen hungry from his dinner-table when it has been stored with variety and abundance; for if the host was once in a facetious fit, the flashes of his pleasantry excited such incessant peals of laughter, that the delighted guest forgot his appetite, and feasted only his mind. But, although
CURRAN. $51 some of his biographers, who profess to have been his frequent guests and companions, bear testimony to these traits of his character, few men have been less fortunate than Curran in the historians of his joculariana; for the instances they have given to their readers rarely pass mediocrity, and often descend to miserable puns; and indeed; some-of them have enriched their collections from the counterfeit coinage of common rumour; and laid at the door of Mr, Curran many illegitimate bantlings, of which he has been most innocently dubbed the father. But such has been, time immemorial, the fate of celebrated wits in every age; and many a joke-merchant and dealer in table-talk, has ventured to foist off his own coinage, or his gleanings from the jest books, as the genuine offspring of Mr. Curran’s fancy; well: knowing: that his name stamped even upon homely witticisms, makes them current for a dinner and a bottle at every hospitable table in Ireland, (at least) where a plausible fellow can make the tour of the country with little of any other coin in his possession. But we have no national bank for wit, and hence these forgeries increase and pass with impunity.
Though it may ill suit with the gravity of the biographer, we have selected a few of the most feasible extant, amongst which some may be genuine, but we by no means vouch for the whole. It is but fair, however, to allow that the wit which sometimes glitters in conversation, is often difficult to extract per se. Much of its brilliancy frequently depends on the setting. Pick it from that, and it loses half its water, or becomes dim or opaque. Without all the keepings of time, place, circumstance, and occasion, it is like one beautiful object. detached from a fine picture, which took its chief force and effect from its combination, as an ingredient of the materia comica. Wit is to conversation as nutmeg to a cordial draught; a little gives a fine taste, but too much will nauseate; or, it is like the electric flash, which dazzles and astounds us in the dark, but would be invisible at noon-light. “Quickness in the conception, and ease in the delivery,” are its chief qualities,
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according to Pope. And “brevity,” says another eminent author, “is the very soul of it.” It is a fine, essential spirit of the mind which is apt to evaporate in the transfusion of detail; and therefore nothing is more dull than your “devilish good story of a devilish good thing, said by a celebrated wit,” and retailed by a smoky-headed fellow, who smothers it in the bungling stupidity of his own narration.
We trust our readers will not deem the above a digression; and we now commence, sans cérémonie, to record a few of the witticisms of Mr. Curran.
Shortly after the establishment of our colony at Botany Bay, when the population was fast increasing, Mr. Curran in one of his speeches upon a criminal trial observed,— “That should the colony thrive, and become a regular civil government, what a pleasant thing it would be to have the laws administered by judges reprieved at the gallows; by justices who had picked pockets; by counsellors who had pleaded at the bar for their lives; by lawyers who had set the law at defiance; to see housebreakers appointed to protect the public property; highwaymen entrusted with the public money; rioters invested with commissions of the peace, and shoplifters to regulate the markets. Such, however, said he, were the original people of Rome; and such the foundation of the states of America.”;
He was addressing a jury on one of the state trials in 1803 with his usual animation. The judge, whose political bias, if any a judge can have, was certainly supposed not to be favourable to the prisoner, shook his head in doubt or denial of one of the advocate’s arguments: “IT see, gentlemen,” said Mr. Curran, “I see the motion of his lordship’s head; common observers might imagine that implied a difference of opinion, but they would be mistaken—it is merely accidental—believe me, gentlemen, if you remain here many days, you will yourselves per
ceive, that when his lordship shakes his head there’s nothing init!”
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A brother barrister of his, remarkable for having a perpetuity in. dirty shirts, was drily asked in the presence ef Mr. Curran, “Pray, my dear Bob, how do you get,so many dirty shirts?” Mr. Curran replied for him, “I can easily account for it; his laundress lives at Holyhead, and therejare nine packets always due.” This gentleman wishing to travel to Cork during the rebellion, but apprehensive he should be known by the rebels, was advised to proceed incog. which-he-said was easily effected, for by disguising himself in a clean shirt, no one would know him. Of the same gentleman, who was a sordid miser, it was told Mr. Curran, that he had set out from Cork to Dublin, with one shirt, and one guinea. “Yes,” said Mr. Curran, “and I will answer for it, he will change neither of them till he returns.”
Mr. Curran, travelling on the Munster circuit with his brother barristers, the judges, as usual, laying aside the formalities of their high office, dine with the bar at their mess, and participate in all the wit and conviviality of the social board. On one of those occasions, after the rebellion of 1798, Lord Norbury, of executive eminence, sat near Mr. Curran, who asked leave to help his lordship to some pickled neat’s tongue. The judge politely declined it, saying, he did not like pickled tongue; but, if it had been hung, he would try it. “My lord,” replied Mr. C. “if your lordship, will only try it, ’twill be hung to a certainty.”
At Trinity College, Dublin, an aspirated dispute arose between one of the fellows, Doctor Magee, who was an eloquent preacher, and a Mr. Swift, who had two sons students at that university; and the contest broke out into a war of pamphlets, in which the disputauts libelled each other; and mutual prosecutions in the king’s bench followed... Mr. Swift stood the first trial, and was fined and imprisoned; and then proceeded against the doctor. Mr. Curran, who was his counsel, in reprobating the conduct of a clergyman for writing a malicious and scandalous libel against his client, expressed an earnest wish that the reverend gentleman, who in his pulpit was the
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very mirror of christian charity, could find time on some wet Sunday to go to his college chapel and hear himself preach, as the best antidote against the libellous asperity of his pen.
When the new mint was erected on Tower Hill, at an enormous expense, the high price of the precious metals, and the existing prospects of the country, rendered the office of the moneyers for a considerable time perfectly sinecure. No gold or silver was brought to the coining press; milling was confined to the pugilists and corn-grinders, and paper usurped the post of cash. At this period the honourable Mr. Wellesley Pole was appointed master of the mint. Upon these cireumstances, Curran, in a convivial circle, observed,—‘ Iam glad to find an Irishman for once at the head of a money-making department; it may afford an additional scence for the Beggar’s Opera. For Mat o’the mint, we shall have Pat o’the mint; and, as the new establishment is likely to coin nothing but rags, there can be no want of bullion during the reign of beggary.”
It was not unfrequent for Mr. Curran, in some of his witty rencounters, to have his own repartees sent back upon him at second-hand, as originals, by a puny antagonist. On one of those occasions, an arrow of this sort, notoriously his own, came whizzing upon him, and being d-propos to the occasion, excited a wince; but, bowing to his assailant, he replied,— I have no objection to a scratch from any weapon of your own; but I deprecate the fate of that unlucky eagle who was pierced by a shaft plumed from his own wing.”
Daring the late administration of Mr. Fox in England, Mr. George Ponsonby was appointed to the Irish chancery bench, and Mr.Curran, as has been said, through the friendly offices of that gentleman, was appointed to the mastership of the rolls: But this was a situation by no means congenial to his taste or his habits. His eloquence, the ornament of his talents and the source of his elevation, was also the delight of his soul, and upon this he considered his new office as a complete extinguisher. It
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was a field perfectly new to him, and though he discharged its duties with efficiency and honour, and gave him what was deemed the otium cum dignitate, the office of attorneygeneral, with its chances of elevation to the king’s bench, would have much more gratified his taste and his ambition. In the arrangements for Mr. Curran’s appointment to this office, Sir Michael Smith, his predecessor, retired upon the usual pension; but he stipulated also for the continuance of his chief officer, Mr. Ridgeway, in his post, on a provision for him of 500/, a year from the emoluments of his successor. Mr. Ponsonby, to facilitate the success of his friend, had promised this matter should be adjusted, met Mr. Curran, who had designed his eldest son for the place, which was worth 10001. a-year, considered himself as no party to the arrangement for Mr. Ridgeway, and refused to comply. This led to an unfortunate misunderstanding, which continued for life, between him and Mr. Ponsonby. The latter gentleman felt himself bound to make good the stipulation to Mr. Ridgeway, which he did most honourably from his own purse. Mr. Curran, junior, did the duties by proxy until the resignation of his father, which took place in a very few years afterwards. The father vindicated his own conduct in a letter circulated in manuscript for some time amongst his friends, which ultimately found its way into print, and which by no means tended to heal the breach. This unfortunate chasm in his political friendship, added to a domestic occurrence of a much earlier date, greatly embittered the happiness of his latter years. This was the infidelity of a wife, whom he had married for love, by whom he had, at. the time, several grown children, who had shared with him his eleyation and prosperity, and became a victim to the seductive artifices of a clergyman, who had for years shared his intimate friendship, and was a constant participator in his hospitalities.. He succeeded in an action for damages against the man, but never exacted the penalty; and he separated from his unfortunate wife, but without suing for a divorce. His domestic happiness, however, was gone for
366 CURRAN. ever. This, even for years, unfitted him for his profes sional pursuits; and though he struggled in the bustle of forensic exertions, to banish from recollection the cause of his unhappiness; and, on his retreat from the rolls bench, sought, by his absence from the scenes of his fame and the country of his heart, to dissipate his chagrin by varied society, and travels in England and France; still the wound was beyond remedy, and rankled in his feelings to the hour of his dissolution, which took place at his lodgings, No. 7, Amelia Place, Brompton, on the 13th of October, 1817, in the sixty-fifth year of his age. For a short time before his death, his social intercourse was confined to a very few intimate acquaintance. It was imagined that his will, which was in Ireland, might. contain some directions as to his interment, and his funeral was deferred uutil that was examined. It was, however, silent upon the subject, and his remains were conveyed, with all possible privacy, to their last depository, in Paddington church-yard, attended by a few of his most intimate friends. We intended here to have closed the memoir of Curran, but the following eloquent character, from the pen of the Rev. George Croly, elicited our admiration so strongly, that we could not resist the temptation of inserting it: “From the period at which Mr. Curran emerged from the first struggles of an unfriended man, labouring up 2 jealous profession, his history makes a part of the annals of his country; once upon the surface, his light was always before the eye, it never sank, and was never outshone. With great powers to lift himself beyond the reach of that tumultuous and stormy agitation that must involve the movers of the public mind in a country such as Ireland then was, he loved to cling to the heavings of the wave; he at least never rose to that tranquil elevation to which his early cotemporaries had, one by one, climbed; and never left the struggle til] the storm had gone down, it is to be hoped, for ever. This was his destiny, but it was his choice, and he was not without the reward which, to an ambitious mind, conscious of eminent powers, might
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be more than equivalent to the reluctant patronage of the throne. To his habits, legal distinctions would have been only a bounty upon his silence. His limbs -would have been fettered by the ermine. But he had the compensation of boundless popular honour, much respect from the higher ranks of party, much admiration and much: fear from the lower partisans. In parliament he was the assailant most dreaded; in the law courts he was the advo-~ cate whose assistance was deemed the most essential: in both he was an object of all the more powerful passions of man, but rivalry. He stood alone, and shone alone.
“The connections of his early life, and still more the original turn of his feelings, threw him into the ranks of opposition; in England, a doubtful cause, and long separable from patriotism; in Ireland, at that day, the natural direction of every man of vigorous feeling and heedless genius. Ireland had been, from causes many and deep, an unhappy country. For centuries utterly torpid, or only giving signs of life from the fresh gush of blood from her old wounds, the influence of England’s well-intentioned policy was more than lost upon her; it was too limited to work a thorough reformation, but too strong not to irritate; it was the application of the actual cautery to a limb, while the whole body was a gangrene. But a man who loved the influence of this noblest of countries, might hate the government of Ireland. It was a rude oligarchy. The whole influence of the state was in the hands of a few great families. hose were the true farmers-general of Ireland; and the English minister, pressed by the difficulties of an empire then beginning to expand over half the world, was forced to take their contract on their own terms. The viceroy was their viceroy; only the first figure in that deplorable triamph which led all the hopes and virtues of the country in chains behind the chariot wheels of a haughty faction. Jt was against this usurpae tion that the Irish minority rose up in naked. but resolute patriotism. The struggle was not long; they hewed their way through the hereditary armour of their adversaries,
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with the vigour of men leagued in such a cause, and advanced their standard till they saw it waving without one to answer it. In this praise of an admirable time there is no giddy praise of popular violence. The revolution of 1780 was to Ireland what the revolution of a century before had been to the paramount country, a great and reviving effort of nature to throw off that phantom which sat upon her breast, and gave her the perception of life only by the struggles that must have closed in stagnation and death.. The policy of the English minister was too enlarged to offer resistance to an impulse awaked on English principles. For him a great service had been done; the building which he had wished to shake was cast down in dust, and the soil left open for the visitations of all the influences of good government. The country had lain before his eye a vast commonage, incapable of cultivation, and breeding only the rank and pernicious fertility of a neglected morass; but he had dreaded to disturb its mul-— titude of lordly pauperism, and hereditary plunder. It was now Cleared and enclosed for him, a noble expanse for the out-pouring of all that civilization could give to its various atid magnificent nature: The history of those years is yet to be written; whenever the temple is to be erected, the name of Curran must be among the loftiest on its portal.
“‘ But the time of those displays which raised him to his highest distinction as an orator was of a darker shade. His country had risen, like the giait of Scripture, refreshed with wine; her vast original powers doubly excited by an elating but dangerous draught of: liberty. She had just reached that state in which there is the strongest demand for the wisdom of the legislator. The old system had been disbanded, but the whole components of its strength survived. The spirit of clanship was still up and girded with its rude attachments; the hatred of English ascendancy had sheathed the sword, but kept it still keen, and only waiting the word to leap from the scabbard. The ancient Irish habits of daring gratification among all ranks,
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the fallen estate of that multitude who had lived on the pay of political intrigue, the reckless poverty ofthat overwhelming population to which civil rights could not give bread, all formed a mass of discordant but desperate strength, which only required a sign.—The cross was at length lifted before them, and it was the lifting of a banner to which the whole darkened host looked up, as to an omen of assured victory. The rebellion was met with manly promptitude, and the country was set at peace. Curran was the leading counsel in the trials of the conspirators, and he defended those gnilty and misguided men with a vigour and courage of talent, less like the emulation of an advocate, than the zeal of a friend. He had known many of them in the intercourse of private life; some of them had been his early professional associates. A good man and a good subject might have felt for them all. The English leveller is’.a traitor; the Irish rebel might have been a patriot, Among us, the revolutionist sets fire to 4 city, a great work of the wise industry, and old established conveniency of man, a place of the temple and the palace; the treasures of living grandeur, and the monuments of departed virtue. He burns, that he may plunder among the ruins. The Irish rebel threw his: firebrand into a wilderness, and if the conflagration rose too high, and consumed some of its statelier and more solid ornaments, it was sure: to. turn into ashes the inveterate and tangled undergrowth that had defied his rude industry. This was the effervescence of heated and untaught minds. The world was to be older before it learned the curse and unhappy end of the reform that begins by blood. The French revolution had not then given its moral. It was still to the ¢yes of the multitude like the primal vision in the Apocalypse, a glorious shape coming forth in unstained robes, conquering and to conquer for the world’s happiness; it: had not yet, like that mighty emblem, darkened down ihrough all its shapes of terror, till it moved against the world, Death onthe pale horse, followed by the unchained
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spirits of human evil, and smiting with plague, and famine, and the sword.
“Some criticism has been wasted on the presumed deficiencies of Curran’s speeches on those memorable trials. Throwing off the public fact that those speeches were all uncorrected copies, Curran was of all orators the most difficult to follow by transcription. His elocution, rapid, exuberant, and figurative in a signal degree, was often compressed into a pregnant pungency which gave a sentence ina word. Lhe word lost, the charm was undone. But his manner could not be transferred, and it was created for his style. His eye, hand, and figure were in perpetual speech. Nothing was abrupt to those who could see him; nothing was lost, except when some flash would burst out, of such sudden splendour as to leave them suspended and dazzled too strongly to follow the lustres that shot after it with restless illumination. Of Curran’s speeches, all have been impaired by the difficulty of the period, or the immediate circumstances of their delivery. Some have been totally lost. His speech on the trial of the two principal conductors of the conspiracy, the Shears’s, barristers and men of family, was made at midnight, and said to have been his most masterly effusion of pathetic eloquence. Of this no remnant seems to have been preserved. the period was fatal to their authenticity. When Erskine pleaded, he stood in the midst of a secure nation, and pleaded like a priest of the temple of justice, with his hand on the altar of the constitution, and all England below prepared to treasure every fantastic oracle that came from his lips. Curran pleaded, not on the floorof a shrine, but on a scaffold, with no companions but: the wretched and culpable men who were to be plunged from it hour by hour, and no hearers but the multitude, who crouded anxious to that spot of hurried execution, and then rushed away glad to shake off all remembrance of scenes which had agitated and torn every heart among them. It is this which puts his speeches beyond the
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estimate of the closet. He had no thought to study the cold and marble graces of scholarship. He was a being embarked in strong emergency, a man and not a statue. He was to address men, of whom he must make himself the master. With the living energy, he had the living and regardless. variousness of attitude. Where he could not impel*by exhortation, or overpower by menace, he did not disdain to fling himself at their feet, and conquer by grasping the hem of their robe. For this triumph he was.all things to all men. His wild wit, and far-fetched allusions, and play upon words, and extravagant metaphors, all repulsive to our cooler judgments, were wisdom and sublimity before the juries over whom he waved his wand. Before a higher audience he might have been a model of sustained dignity;—mingling with those men he was compelled to speak the language that reached their hearts. Curran in the presence of an Irish jury was first of the first. He skirmished round the field, trying every point of attack with unsuspected dexterity, still pressing on, till the decisive moment was. come, when he developed his force, and poured down his whole array in a mass of matchless strength, originality, and grandeur. It was in this originality that a large share of his fascination consisted. The course of other great public speakers may in general be predicted from their outset; but in this man, the mind, always full, was always varying the direction of its exuberance; it was no regular streain, rolling down in a smooth and straight-forward volume;—it had: the wayward beauty of a mountain torrent, perpetually delighting the eye with some unexpected sweep through the wild and the picturesque, always rapid, always glancing back sunshine, till it swelled into sudden strength, and thundered over like a cataract. For his noblest images there was no preparation, they seemed to come spontaneously, and they came mingled with the lightest products of his mind. It was the volcano flinging up in succession curls of vapour, and fiery rocks; all from the same exhaustless depths, and with the same unmeasured strength to which the light and
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the massive were equal. We had the fortune to hear some of those speeches, and repeat it, that to feel the full genius of the man, he must have been heard. His eloquence was not a studiously sheltered and feebly fed flame, but.a torch blazing only with the more breadth and brilliancy, as it was the more broadly and boldly waved: it was not a lamp, to live in his tomb.. His printed speeches lie before us, full of the errors that might convict him of an extravagant imagination and a perverted taste. But when those are to be brought in impeachment against the great orator, it must be remembered, that they were spoken for a triumph, which they gained; that we are now pausing over the rudeness and unwieldiness of the weapons of the dead, without reference to the giant’s hand that with them drove the field. Curran’s carelessness of fame has done this dishonour to his memory. We have but the fragments of his mind, and are investigating those glorious reliques, separated and mutilated, like the sculptures of the Parthenon; while they ought. to have been gazed on where the great master had placed them, where all their shades and foreshortenings were relief and vigour,—image above image, rising in proportioned and. consecrated beauty.; as statues on the face of a temple. —
““His career in parliament was less memorable. But the cause lay in no deficiency of those powers which give weight, in a legislative assembly. In the few instances in which his feelings took a part, he excited the same admiration which had followed him through his professional efforts.. But his lot had been cast in the courts of law, and his life was there. He came into the house of commons wearied by the day, and reluctant to urge himself to exertions rendered less imperious by the croud of able men who fought the battle of opposition.—His general speeches in parliament were the sports of the moment, the irresistible overflow of a humorous disdain of his adversary. He left the heavy arms to the habitual combatants; and amused himself with light and hovering hostility.. But his shaft was dreaded, and his subtilty was sure to insinuate
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its way, where there was a mortal pang to be wrung. With such gifts what might not such a man have been, removed from the low prejudices, and petty factions, and desperate objects that thickened the atmosphere of public life in Ireland, into the large prospects, and noble and healthful aspirations that elated the spirit in this country, then rising to that summit of eminence from which the world at last lies beneath her! If it were permitted to enter into the recesses of such a mind, some painful consciousness of this fate would probably have been found: to acconnt fot that occasional irritation and spleen of heart, with which he shaded his public life, and disguised the homage which he must have felt for a country like England. It must have been nothing inferior to this bitter sense of utter expulsion, which could have made sucha being, gazing upon her unclouded glory, lift his voice only to tell her how he hated her beams. He must have mentally measured his strength with her mighty mens Burke and Pitt and Fox were then moving in their courses. above the eyes. of the world, great luminaries, passing over in different orbits, but all illustrating the same superb and general system. He, had one moment not unlike theirs. But the Irish Revolution of 1780 was too, brief for the labours: or the celebrity of patriotism, and this powerful and eccentric mind, after rushing from its obscuration just near enough to be mingled with, and glow in the system, was again Flat pr away to chillness and darkness. beyond the gaze of mankind.
“The details of Curran’s private life are for the biographer. . But, of that portion which, lying between public labours and domestic privacy, forms, the chief. ground. for the individual character, we may speak with no slight panegyric. Few men of his means of inflicting pain could have. been more reluctant to use them; few men whose lives passed in continual public conflict could have had fewer personal enemies, and perhaps no man of his time has left sincerer regrets among his personal friends. He was fond of encouraging the rising talent of his pro
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fession, and gave his advice and his praise ungrudginely, wherever they might kindle or direct a generous emulation. As a festive companion he seems to have been utterly unequalled; and has left on record more of the happiest strokes of a fancy at once classic, keen, and brilliant, than the most habitual wit of the age. It may yet be a lesson worth the memory of those who.feel themselves neglected by nature, that with all his gifts, Curran’s life was not that one which would satisfy a man desirous of being happy. But let no man imagine that the possession of the most fortunate powers, is an excuse for error, still less an obstruction to the sense of holy obedience; our true emblem is in the Archangel, bending with the deepest homage, as he rises the highest in intellectual glory,”—
October 20, 1817.
SIR JAMES CALDWELL
Was descended from a family which came over from Ayrshire, in Scotland, in the beginning of the seventeenth century, he was settled at Ross Bay, afterwards called Castle Caldwell, in Fermanagh. He was created a baronet, June 23, 1683. At the Revolution his services were of the highest importance, as appears by the following case enclosed in a petition to King William.
The State of the Case of Sir James Caldwell, Bart.
That he staid in Ireland in all the late troubles at and near Enniskillin, till the end of the year 1689, and raised and maintained a regiment of foot and two troops of horse, at his own charge, and kept the same at the great passes at Belleck and Donegal, between Conaught and the province of Ulster, which was of such consequence, that it hindered communication between the enemies in the said province of Conaught (which were very numerous) from joining or recruiting those besieging Londonderry. —
That the said Sir James Caldwell was besieged with a detached party from Colonel Sarsfield, of about the number of two thousand foot, and three troops of dragoons, about the 3rd of May, 1689, and was forced to send to Enniskillin, Castle Hume, and other neighbouring garrisons, for relief, which came on the Sth of May, and joined the forces, which Sir James Caldwell had, who then fought the enemy near Sir James’s house, and routed them, killing about a hundred and twenty, took seventy prisoners, two cannon, many small arms, and about forty horses, from the enemy,
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That the said Sir James Caldwell also placed his son Hugh Caldwell in the garrison of Donegal, over three companies of foot, and a troop of horse, being the next garrison to Londonderry the protestants were possessed of, which was of such consequence, that if the enemy had been masters of it, the whole country about Enniskillin must have submitted to them.
That the said Hugh Caldwell had several offers of money and preferment from the Duke of Berwick to surrender the place, but always told him he would defend it to the last; as appears afterwards by the defence he made against the Duke, who attacked him with fifteen hundred men, burnt some part of the town, but was beaten off with considerable loss, which Colonel Luttrel can give an account of; as also of the said Sir James’s vigilant and faithful behaviour in the defence of that country,
That the said Sir James Caldwell went in an open boat from Donegal to Major-General Kirk by sea, forty leagues, on the most dangerous coast on that kingdom, not having any other way to have communication with him, to acquaint him with the condition of that country, to which he was then a stranger, and to get arms and ammunition from him, which were greatly wanting to arm the naked men in the country. Some time after, the said Sir James Caldwell was sent back with Colonel Wolsely, Colonel Tiffany, Colonel Wynne, and some ammunition, by the said major-general, who then gave the said Sir James a commission to be colonel of foot, and a troop of horse independent, as by the said commissions will appear; that within four or five days after they landed their men were forced to fight Lieutenant-General Macarty, and obtained a great victory against him, as has been heard.
That the said Sir James met Duke Schomberg when he landed at Carickfergus, and staid the siege of that place; and afterwards went to Dundalk with the Duke, and staid that campaign with him, till about a week before he decamped, which the now Duke Schomberg will certify.
That the said Sir James Caldwell expended in money, arms, provisions, and other necessaries, to support those troops, which were raised for the king’s service, and what he lost by the destruction of his town, houses, iron mills, stud of horses, and stock of black cattle, and other essential losses, amounted to about ten thousand pounds.
That the said Sir James’s second son also suffered very much, by cattle
and provisions taken from him by our own army at Bally Shannon, for the maintenance of that garrison, without which they could not have. sustained, That the said James Caldwell had, after the campaign at Dundalk, a regiment of dragoons, and a regiment of foot quartered in his house and town of Belleek, which did him much damage, and destroyed many things, which he, with so much difficulty, saved from the enemy.
That also the said Sir James Caldwell’s daughter, Elizabeth, conveyed several quantities of powder from Dublin, by his commands, to Enniskillin, and other garrisons thereabout, to the hazard of her life, as may appear by my Lord Capel’s report, upon a reference to him,
The truth of the above statement was supported by
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various documents from the lord-lieutenant and other officers of the king. His majesty, in recompence of his services, bestowed upon him in custodiam, for seven years, the whole of the forfeited Bagnal estate, then let for 8000/. per annum; at the end of which time it was to be restored to the Bagnal family, and Sir James was to be otherwise provided for. He died in 1717.
HUME CALDWELL,
W uo in the compass of a very short life, obtained more military glory than has fallen to the lot of most individuals who have embraced the profession of arms, was the third son of Sir John Caldwell, of Castle Caldwell, and great grandson of the subject of the preceding article. Possessed of all those warm and generous feelings so peculiar to the Irish, blended with a share of that uncalculating ardour of mind, more honourable than profitable, which has also been considered their characteristic, he rose deservedly and rapidly to high military honours.
He was born in the year 1735, and being intended for the university, was instructed in the Latin and Greek languages, under a private tutor, till he was about fourteen years of age, at which time he had made considerable progress in both.:
His brother, Sir James, having distinguished himself in the army of the Empress Queen, to whose notice he had thus recommended himself, she made him an offer of taking one of his brothers into her service, which he accepted in favour of Hume, who was therefore placed in a French academy at Dublin, to learn the modern languages and mathematics. Here, being, though so young, troubled with some symptoms of the gout, he gave a specimen of that firmness and self-denial which were his characteristics, by abstaining, at the recommendation of his master, from animal food and fermented liquors, and during a year that he remained there, was never known to depart once from this rule.
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In the year 1750, on the conclusion of the peace, his brother quitted the imperial service, and returned to London, whither Hume repaired, and was furnished by him with letters of recommendation to Marshal Konigsegg, a letter of credit on Baron Aguilar for a 1000/. and 300/. in money, with which, and a valet acquainted with the language, he set out on his journey to Vienna.
They were to go in the stage coach to Harwich, and the baggage having been sent to theinn the night before, they were to meet it the next morning. By some negligence or other, however, they did not arrive till the coach had been gone at least half anhour. The servant proposed taking post horses, but Hume refused, saying, he was resolved that no new expense should accrue from his want of diligence or punctuality, and insisted on their trying to overtake the coach on foot. They accordingly set out running until they were out of breath, and walking till they were able to run again; but with all their exertions they could not reach the coach till they came to the place where it stopped for the passengers to breakfast. They now calculated on a comfortable journey the rest of their way, but unfortunately, the places which had been taken for. them, were filled by two women. Hume's gallantry would not permit him to assert his right; he therefore complimented the females with the ss ah and went the rest of the journey with his attendant on the outside.
On his arrival at Vienna, he was received by Marshal Konigsegg and his lady, with marks of an almost parental affection, and they being persons of high distinction, he imagined that he also ought to support that character. For this purpose he took expensive lodgings, kept a chariot, a running footman, and a hussar, and was admitted into the highest circles; but at the close of about five weeks, finding his stock of cash much diminished, and having formed a resolution not to have recourse to the letter of credit which he possessed, he determined to repair immediately to the corps in which he was to serve; he,
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therefore expressed to the marshal a wish to obtain an audience of the Empress Queen. The marshal highly approved of this undertaking, and immediately procured him that honour, her majesty being always easy of ACCESS.
When introduced to her majesty, he expressed, in a very animated speech in the French language, his resolution to devote himself entirely and for ever to her service, and his determination either to rise to a distinguished command in her armies, or to die in the attempt.
The empress was so much pleased with this spirited, yet modest address, that she told him she did not at all doubt of his efforts in her service, and said some obliging things of the Irish; inquired very graciously after his brother, and concluded by saying, that she had recommended him to Marshal Konigsegg for preferment, who was himself very much inclined to serve him.
After quitting the empress, he repaired to the ofaials and begged to be sent to his regiment, where he said Re. would serve and improve himself in learning the language and his duty, till his excellency should think proper to honour him with a commission. The marshal gave him a letter of recommendation in the strongest terms to the colonel of the regiment who was then at the head-quarters, at Coningsgratz.
Hume immediately went to his lodgings, discharged his servants, and paid all his debts after which, to his surprise, he found he had but two gold ducats left. This was a blow that completely disconcerted all his measures, as it disabled him from appearing as a volunteer in the army, a station very incompatible with his present circumstances, as he continued firm in his resolution not to touch his letter of credit. Still, however, determined upon learning the language and military discipline of the country, without losing time in fruitless regret, he packed up his clothes and other ornaments, and deposited them all at iis banker’s except the worst suit, which he wore; even
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this, however, was too good for his present purpose; he, therefore, exchanged it for worse with a Jew dealer in second-hand clothes.
He destroyed the marshal’s letter, which could now be of no service to him, and thus equipped, the companion of princes, the friend of Count Konigsegg, the possessor of a splendid hotel, and a gilt chariot, who had kept a hussar, and an opera girl, figured at court, and had an audience from the empress, and was possessed of a letter of credit for a 1000/. (animated by the same spirit which had, when he suffered the stage-coach to leave “him behind, urged him rather to overtake it on foot than incur the expense of hiring horses by his delay) set out from Vienna alone, on foot, in a mean habit, and with an empty pocket, for that army, in which he was to rise by his merit, to a distinguished command. Having arrived at a village near Prague, where a party of Konigsegg’s regiment was quartered, he enlisted by a feigned name as a private soldier. In this humble station he made so great a progress in the language, and behaved with so much diligence, as to be particularly noticed by the lieutenant who commanded the party.
In about two months time, Konigsegg wrote to the colonel, inquiring after Hume Caldwell, and, at the same time, sent an ensign’s commission for him. The colonel, in great astonishment, wrote, in answer to the marshal, that he knew no such person, nor had he ever received any recommendation of him, neither had any such person joined the regiment. The marshal in his reply, expressed great regard for the young gentleman, and directed inquiry to be made after him. Inquiry was immediately made, but no tidings could be heard; at last, somebody informed the colonel, that there was an Irish soldier at certain quarters, who might possibly know something of him. He was immediately sent for, and the colonel, asking him if he knew of any such person, mentioning, at the same time, that there was a commission sent down for him, was surprised to hear him answer, that he was the man.
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The lieutenant under whom he had enlisted, having commended him in the highest terms, these circumstances were communicated by the colonel to the marshal, and by the latter to the empress, who soon after gave him a lieutenancy. He continued to apply himself very diligently to the study of his profession, but an accident happened to him which was near putting an end to his life and prospects at once. Reading one night in bed, he fell asleep, and the candle falling from his hand, set fire to the curtains; he was, however, fortunate enough to escape in time to save the house from destruction, but the greater part of the furniture in the room was consumed; on account of which the people of the house obtained the sequestration of half his pay, till the damage was made good. This involved him in great distress, but he acquiesced without complaint. The circumstance, however, soon became known, and coming to the knowledge of a large convent of Irish franciscans established at Prague, one of the fathers of which, happening to have known Sir John Caldwell, our young hero’s father, in Ireland, gave this account of him to the fraternity: “Sir John,” said he, “though a staunch protestant, always treated the Roman catholics with humanity and tenderness: in particular, one stormy day, when it rained very hard, he discovered a priest with his congregation, at mass under a hedge: and instead of taking that opportunity of blaming them for meeting so near his house, he ordered his cows to be driven out of a neighbouring cow-house, and signified to the priest and people that they might take shelter from the weather, and finish their devotion in peace. It ill becomes us, therefore, brethren,” said he, “to see the son of Sir John Caldwell distressed in a strange country, remote from all his friends, without affording him assistance.”
The fraternity, having heard this account, contrived, by mutual consent, to have the debt paid, unknown to young Caldwell, who, shortly afterwards, being advanced to a company, presented them with treble the sum, and returned his brother’s letter of credit. From this. time he was
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actively engaged in the duties of his profession, in which he rose gradually but rapidly. Ele was of great service in cutting off. the convoys, and annoying the reinforcements which were sent to the assistance of the King of Prussia, during the siege of Olmutz, particularly in the defeat and destruction of the great convoy, the loss of which compelled Frederic to raise the siege. In this action he so highly distinguished himself, as to be made.a major on the field:of battle, by General Laudohn; and in the course of the ensuing winter, he was created a knight of the military order. fe .
In the campaign of 1760, he was appointed to the command of two battalions, four hundred croats, and two squadrons of hussars,which formed the advanced guard before the battle of Landshut, in which memorable battle he forced the enemy, sword in hand, from three formidable entrenchments, made himself master of the hill, and contributed much to the taking of General Fouquet, who commanded the Prussian army. All the other field-officers of his regiment being wounded in this action, he commanded it during the remainder of the campaign, and being sent to Glatz, contributed much to the taking of that important fortress. The army of General Laudohn being entirely routed by the King of Prussia at Lignitz, Caldwell, observing a favourable opportunity for the horse to charge, by a wonderful exertion. of spirit and presence of mind, gave the commanding officers orders in the general’s name to advance, and placing himself at their head, succeeded in putting a stop to the progress of the Prussians, by which means he secured the retreat of almost half of the ~ army, which was dispersed and in the utmost confusion. For this important service he was immediately advanced to the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and in the succeeding campaign always commanded the advanced or rear-guard of Laudohn’s army, when on a march.
At the storming of Schweidnitz, he acted as that general’s immediate instrument, being put at the head of a considerable corps; and the assault being entirely left to him,
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which, although he had never before been in that fortress, he conducted with consummate skill, himself leading one of the most difficult and dangerous attacks. He succeeded at the first onset, and being the first field-officer that entered the town, was sent to Dresden and to Marshal Daun with an account of the success, and was immediately made a colonel. To follow him through all the battles and sieges in which he was engaged during these campaigus, would be giving a history of Laudohn’s army; suffice it to say, that he was in every action of consequence in which that army was engaged, and was honoured by so much of the general’s confidence as to be very frequently employed above his rank, in preference to many older officers.
He had received two severe wounds in cutting off the king of Prussia’s convoy at Olmutz, in consequence of which he had been left for dead, and a slight one at the escalade of Schweidnitz. In July 1762, a short time before the last siege of that fortress, he was ordered thither by Daun to assist in its defence. On the 8th of August the trenches were opened, and on’the 9th he commanded a well-conducted sally. On the 13th, at night, he conducted a second, in which he was struck by an iron cartridge ball, on the outside of the upper part of his left arm, which broke the articulation of his shoulder, and driving the limb with great foree against his side, caused a violent and extensive contusion, which was pronounced by the surgeon to be much more. dangerous than the fracture. He appeared so greatly better in the course of a few days, as to give hopes of his recovery, but on the 18th such an alteration for the worse had taken, place, as gave a certain presage of his death. About seven o’clock that evening he sent for a particular friend, Captain Sullivan, who commanded a company of grenadiers in Konigsegg’s regiment; but as he was upon duty, he could not leave his post till he was relieved, which was about nine. “As soon as he came into the room, the colonel said to him, “My dear Sullivan, as you have known me intimately several
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years, you know that I hever feared the hour that is now come: I find so strange an alteration in myself since yesterday, and have sensations so different from all I ever felt before; that I think it impossible I should live through this night: the only favour 1 have to beg of you is, that you would*acquaint my motherand brothers that I die like an honest man, who Always had: his duty in'view; tell them, that Ibalways had my family and country at heart, and that it was the constant study of my life to do them honours As God is now: calling me, from this world, I desire to be thankful to him for all his goodness to me in it, which has been very extraordinary, for all my under+ takings have been crowned with success; I am still more thankful that I have now nothing to.reproach myself with, and that I’can die not only with resignation, but comfort,”
After this, Mr. Sullivan remained with him the whole night,he’settled his affairs, told him what he owed, and what he possessed; a person was sent for to make his will, by which he directed his debts to be paid, and gave pecuniary rewards to all his servants, appointing Captain Sul+ livan his executor: the rest of the night he spent witha minister of the Lutheran; church, and in talking of /his mother, his brothers, and family.
At eight Captain Sullivan left him, but returned again at ten, when he found him delirious. He staid till twelve, when the last agony coming on, he could no longer sustain the pain it gave him to be present at such a scene, and therefore retired About two o’clock in the afternoon of the 19th of August, 1762, the colonel died, in the twenty-seventh year of his age, and was buried the next day, in a kind of a chapel or grotto, in the Lutheran church-yard, which is reserved for persons of distinction.
Thus died in the post of honour, at the age of twenty-seven, Colonel Hume Caldwell, sincerely and deservedly lamented by the empress, the general, and the whole army. To what high rank and honours such-an ardent spirit and such high professional skill might have elevated him, had he lived, may be conjectured from this faint sketch of a
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life, short but brilliant. Indeed, had he survived this fatal siege, he would have been immediately appointed a general, and also chamberlain to their imperial majesties, as appears by letters since received by his brother, Sir James. The regret felt by such a man as General Laudohn, for his death, is the best proof of his worth; we shall therefore conclude this article by the following translation of a letter from that general to Colonel Lockhart, on the subject. Pepaels
“Notwithstanding the frequent sallies that have been made since the beginning of the siege, our loss has not been very considerable; the greatest that we have suffered is by the death of Colonel Chevalier de Caldwell, who, in one of the sallies, which was conducted by him, as well as many others, had the misfortune to be winded; of which he died in three days after.
“T have no occasion to represent to you the very great and just affliction I have suffered on account of his death. You know very well how much I[ honoured and esteemed that worthy officer, who, by his intrepidity and courage, which was so natural to him, as well as by his amiable qualities, had gained the friendship of all the generals of the army, as well as\the universal esteem of the public. His memory shall be for ever dear to me; indeed he is universally lamented.
“As I know the friendship which subsisted between you, I am persuaded this account will give you the greatest affliction. J entreat that you would acquaint his family, and in particular his brother the count, with this melancholy event; it gives me the greatest pain to. be obliged to acquaint them with it, and myself, on this occasion, am very much to be pitied.”
“Dated at Shiobe, the 27th of August, 1762.”
HENRY CALDWELL
Great grandson of Sir James, and brother of Hume Caldwell, served as captain of the 36th regiment of foot,
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with the rank of major in the army, under the command of the great General Wolfe. He distinguished himself both at the capture of Louisburg and of Quebec. He so far recommended himself to the favour and kindness of the general, that he made him live with him)in his own family, and expressed his esteem and regard for him by leaving him a legacy in his will. After the conquest of Canada, he was made a privy counsellor of the province, and was appointed lieutenant-colonel-commandant of the British militia for the defence of Quebec, when it was invested by the Americans under General Montgomery. He distinguished himself, by his gallantry and skill, in defence of the fortress, on which account General Carleton sent him home with the important news of the entire defeat of the enemy, and the raising of the siege; on which, occasion he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel on the day of his arrival..
CHARLES CALDWELL,
Brotuer of the above Henry Caldwell, was first-lieutenant of the Stirling man-of-war, when she was ordered home from America, upon which he procured himself. to be removed to the Trident, that he might assist in the reduction of Canada. He distinguished himself so much in debarking the troops at Port, in the island of Orleans, that General Wolfe took him into his family, and employed him as a marine aid-de-camp in the whole campaign for whatever related to the sea-service. The two brothers, Henry and Charles, led on each of them a party of grenadiers at the attack of Montmorency, where Charles was wounded in the leg with a musket-ball.. He recovered so far as .to be able to attend: General Wolfe in the reduction of Quebec, and was near him when he fell. His superior officers bore. most. decided testimony of his extraordinary merit. He died:in 1776, chiefly through exerting himself beyond his strength, in raising men for the navy.
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ANDREW CALDWELL,
A LITERARY character, was the eldest son of Charles Caldwell, Esq. an eminent solicitor, and was born in Dublin, in the year 1732. He received part of his education © in one of the Scotch universities, from whence he removed to London, and after having resided for about five years in the Temple, returned to Dublin, where he was admitted to the bar in 1760. But his father being possessed of a good estate, fully adequate to his son’s wishes, he did not prosecute with “unremitting ardour” the dull'and tedious study of the law, and for several years before his death, had quitted it altogether. His literary and studious disposition, conjoined with his taste for the fine arts, always occupied every leisure hour, as he patronised liberally all those who excelled in any of the various branches of art.
He had made architecture the chief objeet of his study, and about the year 1770, published anonymously, some very judicious. “Observations on the Public Buildings of Dublin,” and on some edifices which at that period were about to be erected in that city, at the expense of the state. The only other known production of his pen that has been published, is a very curious.” Account of the extraordinary Escape of James Stewart, Esq. (commonly called ATHENIAN Stewart) by being put to death by some Turks, in whose company he happened to be travelling;” the substance of which had been communicated to Mr. Caldwell by the late Dr. Percy, Bishop of Dromore, as related to his lordship by Stewart himself. . Of this narrative, of which only a. small number was printed at London in 1804, for the use of the author’s friends, it.is believed not more than a dozen copies were distributed in; this country.
Mr. Caldwell’s literary taste naturally led him to collect a large library, which contained many rare volumes, and was particularly rich in botany and natural history.
He died at the house of his nephew, Major-General
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Cockburn, near Bray, in the county of Wicklow, on the 2nd of July, 1808, in the seventy-sixth year of his age, after an illness of nearly three months duration.
His manners were gentle and pleasing, and as his benevolence and other virtues caused him to be generally respected through life, so his urbanity, variety of knowledge, and cultivated taste, endeared him to the circle in which he moved.
ANDREW CANTWELL,
A physician, and a native of Tipperary, resided principally in Paris, where he took his degree of doctor in medicine in 1742; the same year he published a translation into French, of the account of Mrs. Stephens medicine for dissolving the stone in the bladder; and in 1746, an account of Sir Hans Sloane’s medicines for diseases of the eyes; also some severe strictures on the practice of propagating the small-pox by inoculation; and in the Philosophical Transactions, London, No. 453, an account of a double child, a boy. He died at Paris, July 11, 1764.
SIR GUY CARLETON,
LORD DORCHESTER was descended from an ancient family, which resided many years at Carleton, in Cumberland, from whence they removed to Ireland. He was the third son of Christopher Carleton, Esq. of Newry, in the county of Down, who died in Ireland about 1738, leaving a widow, who became the third wife of the Reverend Thomas Skelton, and died in 1757. Three brothers of this illustrious family lost their lives at the battle of Marston Moor, in the seventeenth century, having espoused the loyal cause.
Sir Guy, the subject of the present memoir, was born at Strabane, in the county of Tyrone, on the 3rd of September, 1724, and agreeable to the wishes of his parents, was early initiated into the rudiments of the military sciences, being
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destined for the army, in which capacity it was augured, (from his great personal activity, and the early proofs he gave of courage) that he would make a conspicuous figure; and how well the event.realised their most sanguine expectations, will speedily be seen.
While very young he entered into the guards, in which corps he continued until the year 1748, when he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel of the 72nd regiment, At this period, he had met with no opportunity of giving an example of his merit, but upon the breaking out of the seven years war, his abilities were put to an honourable test. In 1758 he embarked with General Amherst for the siege of Louisburg, and in this his first campaign, he gave such eminent proofs of his skill and bravery, as entitled him to the notice of the commander-in-chief. The following year he gave still greater proofs of his courage, and good conduct, at the siege of Quebec, under the immortal General Wolfe. He rendered the cause some effectual services during this siege, and his abilities were now so conspicuous, that he was entrusted with the achievement of a post on the western point of the Isle de Orleans, in which he was eminently successful. He now began to be considered as an able officer, and was shortly after dispatched to dislodge the French from Point-au-Trompe, a distance of twenty miles from Quebec, where the enemy were strongly entrenched; in this expedition he also succeeded, and forced the enemy to make a precipitate retreat. He took a considerable. part in this difficult and important siege, and at the celebrated battle fought in the heights of Abraham, when the gallant Wolfe fell in the moment of victory, Carleton displayed a wonderful activity, prudence, and presence of mind in every part, of. the arduous duty with which he was entrusted. The next opportunity he had for displaying his valour, was at the siege of Belleisle, where he commanded as brigadiergeneral, with which rank he had been invested on the spot, and it was on this occasion he received his first wound, haying exposed himself to great personal danger during the whole
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siege. In February 1762, he'was promoted to the rank of colonel, in which capacity he embarked with the Earl of Albemarle for the siege of the Havannab, where: he was likewise distinguished for his bravery, and. was dared in investing the Mora Castle.
Soon after the termination of this campaign, a peace for some time interrupted the military achievements of our colonel. He was not, however, altogether idle; for when General Murray was recalled from Quebec, he was appointed lieutenant-governor of that important place, and at length promoted to the government thereof. In this station he continued some years, and gave entire satisfaction, both to the power who appointed him, and to the provincials over whom he presided. In April. 1772, he was promoted to the rank of major-general, and appointed colonel of the forty-seventh regiment of foot. In the course of this year he married Lady Mary Howard, sister to the Earl of Effingham.
In 1775 when the American war bese htiiiihas General Carleton had an ample field forthe display of his military talents. The American congress having resolved to resort to arms, began soon to turn their eyes to Canada, where they knew the late acts were very unpopular, not only among the British settlers, but the French Canadians themselves, who having experienced the difference between a French and a British constitution, gave the preference to the latter. To co-operate with the disaffected in Canada, and to anticipate the probable and suspected designs of General Carleton, the congress formed the bold and hazardous project of invading that province. The success of the scheme depended chiefly on the celerity of movement, while the British troops were cooped up in Boston, and before reinforcements could arrive from England. In August 1775, Schuyler and Montgomery marched to Lake Champlain, which they crossed in flat-bottomed boats to St. John’s; but Schuyler, the American general, being taken ill, the command devolved upon Montgomery,
*
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who, being an officer of great skill and ability, detached the Indians from the service of General Carleton; and having received some reinforcements of artillery, he compelled the fort of St. John’s to surrender at discretion on the 2nd of November. Hence crossing the St, Lawrence, he proceeded.to Montreal, which being incapableof defence, General Carleton wisely evacuated, and retired to Quebec. Having possessed himself of Montreal, Montgomery made dispositions for advancing to besiege the capital of Canada, and there were several circumstances favourable to his hopes of success. The works of the town had been neglected for a long time of peace; the garrison did not exceed eleven hundred men, of which few were regulars, and the majority of the inhabitants were disaffected to the framers of their new constitution, and particularly to General Carleton, who was supposed to have been a steady supporter of that measure. While he was endeayouring to defend Quebec, amidst all these disadvantages, the American. generals, Montgomery and Arnold, summoned him to surrender, which he treated with contempt, and refused to hold any correspondence with rebels. The inhabitants too, displeased as they were with their new constitution, joined the British troops with cordial unanimity, and the American commander unprepared for a regular siege, endeavoured to take the place by storm. In this attempt Montgomery fell bravely at the head of his troops, whom the garrison, after an obstinate resistance, drove from the town with great loss. After this success, General Carleton shewed that his humanity was equal to his valour, for he treated all the prisoners that fell into his hands with mildness, and softened the rigours of their captivity. Understanding that a number of sick and wounded provincials were scattered about the woods and villages, he issued a proclamation, and appointed proper persons to discover those miserable people, afford them relief and assistance at the public expense, and assure them that on their recovery they should have leave to return to their respective
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homes, and that he would not take the advantage of their deserted and distressed situation to make them prisoners of war.
Arnold adbarnneatt on the meni of Abraham, where he fortified himself, and continued the siege of Queeot in the following year (1776) but retired from thence on the arrival of an English squadron.
General Carletan being now reinforced by sroD ba) which, added to what he had, formed a body of thirteen thousand men, prepared for offensive operations, and the Americans evacuated their conquests, stationing themselves at Crown Point, whither the British commander did not follow them for the present.. An armament was now prepared for crossing Lake Champlain, in order to besiege Crown Point, and Ticonderago. The Americans had a considerable fleet on Lake Champlain, whereas the British had not a single vessel. The general therefore used every effort to procure the requisite naval force, but October had commenced before he was ready to oppose them. On the 11th October, the British fleet commanded by Captain Pringle, and under the direction of General Carleton, discovered the armament of the enemy posted to defend the passage between the island of Valicour and the Western Main. An engagement commenced, and-continued on both sides for several hours with great intrepidity, but a contrary wind preventing the chief British ships from taking a part, and night coming on, it was thought prudent to discontinue
the action, and Arnold took advantage of the night to retreat.
The British apna them the next day, and the day following, and the wind being favourable for bringing all the ships into action, overtook them.a few leagues from Crown Point. The American commander unable to avoid an engagement, made the best disposition which his force permitted. About noon the battle began and continued with great fury for two hours, but at length the superior force and skill of the British prevailed. General Carleton remained at Crown Point till 3rd November, and
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as the winter was commencing, he did not think it advisable to besiege Ticonderago. He returned therefore to St. John’s, whence he distributed his army into winter quarters.
In the following year, 1777, an expedition being planned from, Canada, to effect a co-operation with the principal British force, the command of the armament was conferred on General Burgoyne. Sir Guy Carleton, (for he had been created a knight of the bath in July 1776) from his official situation in Canada, his conduct, and especially his defence of Quebec, might have reasonably expected this appointment; he was an older general, of more mili tary experience, and from his official situation in Canada, had. acquired a superior knowledge of the country, its inhabitants and resources. His character commanded greater authority than Burgoyne’s had hitherto established; and as no military grounds could be alleged for superseding Carleton to make room for Burgoyne, his promotion was imputed to parliamentary influence, more than to his official talents. Carleton disgusted with a preference by no means merited, as soon as he heard of the appointment, resigned his government, in which he was succeeded by General Haldinard; but before he departed, exerted himself to the utmost to enable Burgoyne to take the field with advantage.
On his arrival in England, he received the pe tions of all the friends of his country for his very able and successful defence of Quebec, and was honoured by his majesty with a red ribbon, as a mark of his gracious approbation of his conduct and services.
In August 1777, Sir Guy was made a lieutenant-general in the army, and in 1781, was appointed to succeed Sir Henry Clinton as commander-in-chief in America, where he remained until the termination of the contest, when, after an interview with General Washington, in which these two veterans congratulated each other on arriving at the close of a disastrous war, he evacuated New York, and returned to England.
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In April 1786 he was once more appointed governor of Quebec, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick, and as a reward for his long services, was in the following August raised to the peerage by the title of Lord Dorchester of Dorchester, in the county of Oxford. His lordship remained in this extensive government, for many years; and returned at length to England, where he passed his old age in the bosom of his family, first at Kempshot, near Basingstoke, in Hampshire, and afterwards at his seat near Maidenhead. He died the 10th November, 1808, at the advanced age of eighty-five, at which time he was colonel of the fourth regiment of dragoons, and a general in the army.
He left a numerous issue, and was succeeded in title, and estate, by his grandson, Arthur Henry Carleton, a minor.
TURLOUGH CAROLAN,
Blind and untaught, may be considered as a musical phenomenon. This minstrel bard, sweet as impressive, will long claim remembrance, and float down the stream of time, whilst harmony has power to charm. He was born in the year 1670, in the village of Nodder, in the county of Westmeath, on the lands of Carolans town, which were wrested from his ancestors by the family of the Nugents, on their arrival in this kingdom, with King Henry II. His father was a poor farmer, the humble proprietor of a few acres, which afforded him a scanty subsistence. Of his mother little is known, probably the daughter of a neighbouring peasant, in the choice of whom, his father was guided rather by nature, than prudence. It was in his infancy that Carolan was deprived of his sight by the small-pox. This deprivation he supported with cheerfulness, and would merrily say, “my eyes are transplanted into my ears.” His musical genius was soon discovered, and procured him many friends, who
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determined to aid its cultivation, ahd at the age of twelve a proper master was engaged, to instruct him on the harp; but his diligence in the regular modes of instruction was not great, yet his harp was rarely unstrung, for his intui-. tive genius assisted him in composition, whilst his fingers wandered amongst the strings, in quest of the sweets of melody. In a few years this * child of song” became enamoured of Miss Bridget Cruise. His harp, now inspired by love, would only echo to the sound; though this lady did not give him her hand, it is imagined she did not deny him her heart, but like Apollo, when he caught at the nymph “he filled his arms with bays,” and the song which bears her name, is considered his chef-d’a@uore, it came warm from his heart, while his genius was in its full vigour.;
Our bard, however, after a time, solaced himself for the loss of Miss Cruise, in the arms of Miss Mary Maguire, a young lady of good family in the county of Fermanagh. She was gifted in a small degree with both pride and extravagance, but she was the wife of his choice, he loved her tenderly, and lived harmoniously with her. Qn his entering into the connubial state, he fixed his residence ona small farm near Moshill, in the county of Leitrim; here he built a neat little house, in which he practised hospitality on a scale more suited to his. mind than to: his means, his profusion speedily consumed. the produce of his little farm, and he was soon left to lament the want of prudence, without which the rich cannot taste of pleasure long, or the poor of happiness.
At length Carolan commenced the profession of an itinerant musician, Wherever he went, the gates of the nobility and others. were thrown open to him; he was received with respect, and a distinguished place assigned him at the table: “Carolan,” says Mr. Ritson, “seems from the description we have of him to be a genuine representative of the amcient bard.”
It was during his peregrinations that Carolan composed
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all those airs which are still the delight of his countrymen, and which a modern bard possessed of a congenial soul hath so elegantly adorned.
He thought the tribute of a song due to every house in which he was entertained, and he seldom failed to pay it, choosing for his subject, either the head of the family, or the loveliest of its branches.
Several anecdotes bordering on the miraculous, are recorded of Carolan, and amongst others the following which we are told, was “a fact well ascertained.”
“ The fame of Carolan having reached the ears of an eminent Italian music-master in Dublin, he put his abilities toa severe test, and the issue of the trial confirmed him, how well founded every thing had been, which was advanced in favour of our Irish bard. The method he made use of was as follows: he singled out an excellent piece of music, and highly in the style of the country which gave him birth; here and there he either altered or mutilated the piece, but in such a manner, as that no one but a real judge could make a discovery. Carolan bestowed the deepest attention upon the performer while he played it; not knowing, however, that it was intended as a trial of his skill; and that the critical moment was at hand, which was to determine his. reputation for ever. He declared it, was an admirable piece of music, but, to the astonishment of all present, said, very humorously, in his own language, “ta se air chois air bacaighe;” that is, here and there it limps and stumbles. He was prayed to rectify the errors, which he accordingly did. In this state the piece was sent from Connaught to Dublin; and the Italian no sooner saw the amendments than he pronounced Carolan to be a true musical genius.”
The period now approached at which Carolan’s feelings were to receive a violent shock. In the year 1733, the wife of his bosom was torn from him by the hand of death, and as soon as the transport of his grief was a little subsided, he composed a monody teeming with harmony and poetic beauties. Carolan did not continue long in this
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vale of sorrow after the decease of his wife. While ona visit at the house of Mrs. M’Dermot, of Alderford, in the county of Roscommon, he expired in the month of March, 1738, in the sixty-eighth year of his age, and was interred in the parish-church of Killronan, in the diocese of Avedagh, but “not a stone tells where he lies.”
The manner of his death has been variously related; but that his excessive partiality for a more sparkling stream than flows at Helicon, was the cause of his decease, is a point that all his biographers have agreed on. Goldsmith says “his death was not more remarkable than his life. Homer was never more fond of a glass than he. He would drink whole pints of usquebaugh, and, as he used to think, without any ill consequence. His intemperance, however, in this respect, at length brought on an incurable disorder, and when just at the point of death, he called fora cup of his beloved liquor. Those who were standing round him, surprised at the demand, endeavoured to persuade him to the contrary, but he persisted; and when the bowl was brought him, attempted to drink but could not, wherefore giving away the bowl, he observed with a smile, that it would be hard if two such friends as he and the‘cup should part, at least without kissing, and then expired.” ~
Walker, in his account of the Irish Bards, inserts a letter which states that “Carolan, at an early period of his life, contracted a fondness for spirituous liquors, which he retained even to the last stage of it. But inordinate gratifications carry their punishments along with them; nor was Carolan exempt from this general imposition. His physicians assured him, that, unless he corrected this vicious habit, a scurvy, which was the consequence of his intemperance, would soon put an end to his mortal career. He obeyed with reluctance; and seriously resolved upon never tasting that forbidden, though (to him) delicious cup. The town of Boyle, in the county of Roscommon, was at that time his principal place of residence; there, while under so severe a regimen, he walked, or rather wandered about like a réveur. His usual gaiety forsook
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him; no sallies of a lively imagination escaped him; every moment was marked with a dejection of spirits, approaching to the deepest melancholy; and his harp, his favourite harp, lay in some obscure corner of his. habitation, neglected and unstrung. Passing one day by a grocer’s shop in the town (where a Mr. Currifteene at present resides), .our Irish Orpheus, after a six week’s quarantine, was tempted to step in; undetermined whether he should abide by his late resolution, or whether he should. yield to the impulse which he felt at the moment. “Well, my dear friend,” cried he to the young man who stood behind the compter, “you see am a man of constancy; for six long weeks I have refrained from whiskey. Was there ever so great an instance of self-denial? But a thought strikes me, and surely you will not be cruel enough to refuse one gratification which I shall earnestly solicit. Bring hither a measure of my favourite liquor, which I shall smell to, but indeed shall not taste.” The lad indulged him on that condition; and no sooner did the fumes ascend to his brain, than every latent spark within him was rekindled, his countenance glowed with an unusual brightness, and the soliloquy. which he repeated over the cup, was the effusions of a heart newly animated, and the ramblings .of a genius which a Sterne would have pursued with raptures of delight. At length, to the great peril of his health, and contrary to the advice of his medical friends, he once more quaffed the forbidden draught, and renewed the brimmer, until his spirits were sufficiently exhilarated, and until his mind had fully resumed its former tone. He immediately set about composing that much-admired song which goes by the name of Carolan’s (and sometimes Stafford’s) Receipt. For sprightliness of sentiment, and harmony of numbers, it stands unrivalled in the list of our best modern drinking songs, as our nicest critics will readily allow. .He commenced the words, and began to modulate the air, in the evening at Boyle; and, before the following morning, he sung and played this noble off-
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spring of his imagination in Mr. Stafford’s parlour, at Elfin.”
“Carolan’s inordinate fondness,” says Walker, “for Irish Wine (as Pierre le Grand used to call whiskey) will not admit of an excuse; it was a vice of habit, and might therefore have been corrected. But let me say something in extenuation. He seldom drank to excess; besides, he seemed to think—nay, was convinced from experience, that the spirit of whiskey was grateful to his muse, and for that reason generally offered it when he intended to invoke her.” “They tell me,” says Dr. Campbell in his Survey of the South of Ireland, “that in his (Carolan’s) latter days, he never composed without the inspiration of whiskey, of which, at that critical hour, he always took care to have a bottle beside him.” “Nor was. Carolan,” continues Walker, “the only bard who. drew inspiration from the bottle; there have been several planets in the poetical hemisphere, that seldom shone, but when illuminated by the rays of rosy wine.” He then proceeds to infer the advantages of a state of demi-drunkenness, as far as regards poetic composition, and instances Cunningham, Addison, and Homer, as three authors whose works bear ample testimony to the efficacy of so pleasing a method of procuring inspiration. . That Carolan was not. indifferent to advice of this description, has been sufficiently proved, and in all probability, both he and Mr. Walker. thought true talent similar to those richly painted vases in the east, the most brilliant tints of which could not be discovered unless wine were poured into them *.
REDMOND CARON
THIS individual, celebrated both for learning and piety, was descended from an ancient family near Athlone, in the county of Westmeath; at which place he was born about the year 1605. He embraced the Franciscan order in the .
* Vide Moore’s Lalla Rookh.
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convent of Athlone. when he was. only sixteen years of age; and afterwards studied philosophy in a monastery of his own order at Drogheda, under the tuition of Dr. Alexander Flemming. Several years after, when many of the convents were seized by the iron hand of government, he quitted: Ireland, and retired to Saltsburgh in Germany; where, uniting intense application to great learning, he devoted the whole of his time to the-study of divinity, in a Franciscan monastery; and finished his studies at Louvain, in Flanders, under the instruction and direction of Malachy Fallow and Bonaventure Delahoide, two eminent Irish professors in divinity. In a short time after this period he possessed the chair himself, and acquired the reputation of an able and learned theologist. Some years after he was sent to his native country in quality of commissary-general of the Recollets, all over Ireland; where he found every thing in a state of great confusion. Being at Kilkenny when the differences and disputes ran high between the loyal catholics and the party of Owen O'Neill, he sided with the former; and, in an attempt to remove from that city one Brenan and some other seditious friars, he was in great danger of losing his life; and to a certainty had lost it in the tumult raised by these friars, had not the Earl of Castlehaven providentially arrived, with some friends, in the very instant of ums to. save him.
When the forces, sent by parliament to reduce Ireland, had landed, and were proceeding to their work of murder, flame, and desolation, Caron left his country, and continued abroad until the Restoration; at which period he returned to England, where he resided till within a few months of his death. Prior to which, feeling the hand of that despotic monarch upon him, he returned once more unto the land of his birth; and died in Dublin, some time in May 1666; and was fees in St. James s church-yard in that city.
He was esteemed a man of exemplary piety and extraordinary learning, and of upright and loyal principles,
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which raised him many enemies among his brethren, who, by their connivances, caused the censures of their church to fall upon him. He was remarkably zealous in promoting the affair of the Irish remonstrance of their loyalty; and wrote, at some length, in defence of it. A complete list of his writings is to be found in Ware’s Account of the Writers of Ireland.
THOMAS CARTER,
AN eminent musical and vocal performer, was a native of Ireland, but left that country at a very early age, and was patronised by the Earl of Inchiquin. After visiting various countries for the better perfecting himself in the intricacies of his art, he arrived at Naples, where he was much noticed by Sir William and Lady Hamilton. Here he became celebrated for the great effect with which he sung the beautiful little ballad of “Sally in our Alley.” He was also celebrated for a capriccio, commencing with the words “Fairest Dorinda,” in which he united all the elegancies of musical science, with the most humorous comic expression. In Italy he finished his musical studies, but where he proceeded to next we are not informed. He visited “the clime of the east,” and passed some time in India, where he conducted the musical department in the theatre at Bengal; but the intense heat of the climate so greatly affected the health “of this child of song,” that he was obliged to bid adieu to a clime, “where every voice is melody, and every breath perfume,” and fly to Albion’s genial skies, to endeavour to regain that health he had lost in delighting others. 7
In 1793 he married one of the daughters of the Rev. Mr. Wells, of Cookham, in Berkshire, by whom he had two children, but did not live long to enjoy the pleasures of a domestic life, or contribute to the happiness of the circle that surrounded him, as he died of that unrelenting disease, a liver complaint, (which he is supposed to have
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imbibed on India’s sultry shore) on the 8th of November, 1800, being then in the thirty-second year of his age.
He was a distinguished member of most of the musical societies in this metropolis, and was justly considered by them, “as the choicest feather of their wing.”
WILLIAM CAULFIELD
SECOND VISCOUNT CHARLEMONT, was a brave and experienced soldier, who patriotically touk up arms in defence of his religion and country, against the attacks made on both by King James II and during the contest between that monarch and King William, he not only engaged himself, but his brothers, in the service of the latter, whereupon he was attainted, and his estate of 5001. a-year, sequestrated on the 7th of May, 1689, by King James’s parliament. But after the reduction of the kingdom, King William gave him a regiment of foot, made him governor and Custos Rotulorum of the counties of Tyrone and Armagh, and governor of the fort of Charlemont.
On the 5th of October, 1692, he took his seat in the house of peers, and in 1697, the peace being concluded, his regiment was disbanded, but on the 28th of June, 1701, he was again made colonel of a regiment of foot.
In 1705 he was called upon to serve her majesty in Spain, under Charles, Earl of Peterborough, commander-in-chief of her majesty’s forces. King Charles III being besieged by the French in his city of Barcelona, all efforts and expedition were made use of to relieve him, and at the attack of the breach of the town on the 24th of April, Lord Charlemont commanded the first brigade, and forced an entrance, and it being determined on the 26th of August, to attack the citadel of Monjuich, which appeared the only means whereby that city (in a short space) might be brought to surrender, Lord Peterborough, accompanied by the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt and Lord Charlemont, presented himself with a detachment, before it on the 14th of September, and commenced the assault, during
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which Lord Charlemont behaved with distinguished bravery, and at the attack of the fort, fearlessly marched into the works at the head of his men. He was near the Prince of Hesse when he fell, and continued, during the heat of the action, to perform his duty with great coolness;and intrepidity. When the affair was ended, the Earl of Peterborough presented his lordship and Colonel Southwell to the King of Spain,, as two officers who had rendered his majesty signal services, for which they received his thankful acknowledgments.
The taking of this place occasioned. the ieee i Barcelona on the 9th of October, 1705, and the share his lordship had in this memorable action, induced her majesty, on the 25th of August, to. promote kim to the rank of a brigadier-general of her armies; and on the 22nd of April, 1708, to advance him to that of a major-general, calling him into her privy council, and appointing him euskal! of the counties of Tyrone and Armagh, .
In 1706 he was removed from his regiment by the Earl of Peterborough. In May 1726, he was sworn of the privy council to King George I and having enjoyed the peerage upwards of fifty-five years, was considered the oldest nobleman in his majesty’s kingdoms.
He died on the 21st of July, 1726, eh was buried in the vault with his father and grandfather, under a fine monument, which he had erected to their memories, at Armagh.
He was married on the 11th of July, 1678, to Anne, only daughter of Doctor James Mengetson, Archbishop of Armagh, and by her (who died in 1729) had five daughters and seven sons, the second of whom is the subject of the following memoir.
JAMES CAULFIELD,
Eart or Cuartemont. This nobleman, one of the most accomplished persons of his time, and as amiable, patriotic, and truly honest man, as perhaps ever adorned any age or country, was born at Dublin on the 18th. of
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August, 1738. Owing to the delicacy of his constitution, and the solicitude of his father for the early formation of his principles, he was never sent to any public school, but was placed under three preceptors: the first of whom was a respectable clergyman, named Skelton: another was a Reverend Mr. Barton, eminent for moral and scholastic character; and the last (a man of eminent worth and learning) was a Mr. Marphy, an editor of Lucian, whose character and abilities were so congenial to the views of Lord Caulfield, that he was employed to undertake the education of the young lord. Under his imstructions, his pupil redoubled his own industry, and advanced rapidly in his studies; and such was his esteem and attachment to his preceptor, that he afterwards took him as companion on his travels, and treated him through life with generosity and kindness.
In the year 1746, the young lord baving finished his classical studies, set out on his first tour to the continent of Europe; then deemed indispensable to finish the education of gentlemen of rank. He first visited Holland, and was present during the revolutionary tumult which ended inthe establishment of the Prince of Orange as Stadtholder. Then he proceeded to the British camp in Germany, where he was politely received by William, Duke of Cumberland, commander-in-chief, who, not only during his stay, but afterwards, during His Royal Highness’s life, gave him signal marks of esteem. From the British camp he proceeded to Turin, where he entered the academy, and resided a year, making occasional excursions. to other parts of Italy. At the academy he became intimate with his illustrious fellow-student, the young Victor Amadeus, Prince Royal of Sardinia, from whom, as well as from his illustrious family, he received the most gracious attentions, and enjoyed the opportunity of intercourse with many of the most eminent literary and political characters of Europe, who were then at Turin; and, amongst others, the Marquis de St. Germain, embassador to France, the Comte Perron, and David Hume, the British historian, at that time secre-
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tary to Sir John Sinclair, the British plenipotentiary at the Sardinian court. From Turin he proceeded on the 27th of October, 1748, (vid Bologna) on his way to Rome, and spent the winter between that capital and Naples. In the following April, he sailed from Leghorn with his preceptor Mr. Murphy, Mr. Dalton his draftsman, and two other Irish gentlemen, on a voyage to Constantinople. On the 6th of May, 1749, having passed the poetic dangers of Scylla and Charybdis, as they approached the entrance of the beautiful bay of Messina, their vessel was visited by the officers of health, who-warned them not to approach the city without due examination, for that populous and beautiful capital, the pride of Sicily, had been recently wasted with a dreadful plague, which destroyed the greater part of its inhabitants. The infection had been brought thither by a Genvese Tartan, laden with wool, bale goods, and corn, and she had entered the port under Neapolitan colours, but had come direct from the Morea, where the plague had been raging for some time. Her captain pretended he had come from Brindisi, and produced counterfeit bills of health as from that port. But his own death in the Lazaretto, gave the first alarm of that pestilence which afterwards produced such horrors. Lord Charlemont and his party were, however, permitted to land at some distance on the beach, and after a tedious ordeal of precautionary measures, they were allowed to enter the city, lately one of the finest in the world, and a scene of gran© deur and gaiety; but now reduced to the most lamentable contrast of its former state. The streets nearly depopulated, the few straggling passengers now visible were squalid from disease, famine, and despair; the shops every where closed; the pavements overgrown with grass, and a deathlike silence reigned throughout, interrupted only at intervals by the plaints of wretchedness. Such were the consequences of a pestilence, equal perhaps in its horrors to that at Athens, described by Thucydides, or that of Florence, related by Boccacio.
From Messina the travellers sailed to Malta, where they
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arrived on the 20th of June following; and after a short stay, proceeded to Constantinople, visiting in their way, Smyrna, Tenedos, the Dardanelles, and the Troade, in all of which they inspected every thing interesting to classical curiosity. During his stay at Constantinople, Lord Charlemont attained his twenty-first year, which he commemorated by the composition of an elegant Latin ode, in imitation of Horace’s “Ad Posthume.” Lib ii. xiv.
“Eheu! fugaces, Posthume, Posthume,
Labuntur Anni.”
It was addressed to his friend, Mr. Richard Marlay, afterwards Lord Bishop of Waterford, the learned and admired friend and companion of Burke, Reynolds, Johnson, and Malone, and the maternal uncle of the Right -Honourable Henry Grattan.
In his observations on every thing curious in Constantinople, he was zealously aided by Doctor Mackenzie, many years the resident physician to the English embassador and British factory there, and highly esteemed by the Turks for his medical skill.
From Constantinople, after a stay of little more than a month, the travellers proceeded to Egypt, visiting, in the course of their voyage, the Classic Isles of Lesbos, Chios, Micone, Delos, and Paros, from the last of which they sailed to Alexandria, and travelled thence to view every relique of antiquity worthy of curiosity in Egypt. On the 22nd of October, 1749, they sailed from Alexandria, intending to visit Cyprus, in sight of which they arrived, but were forced by contrary winds, after a voyage of seven days, to anchor at Rhodes. Whence they sailed for Athens, but were again driven by unfavourable gales, upon the rocky coast of Caria, now called Carimania; and on the morning of the 9th of November, they passed the promontory of Doris, on the south-east side of the Sinus Ceramicus, now Gulph of Stanco: here they landed and visited the splendid ruins of the ancient theatre near it, then in high preservation; all of white marble, 190 feet broad by 150 in depth; and above the theatre stood the
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remains of the magnificent temple of the Cnidian Venus, built in the Corinthian order, of the purest Parian marble, and which Praxiteles had enriched with the famous statue of the goddess, the most perfect production of his skill. These precious monuments of classic architecture. afforded a delightful treat to the travellers, and more especially to Lord Charlemont, whose cultivated taste taught, him to contemplate them with ecstacy. They next visited the Isle of Cos, and thence Bodromi, and the splendid ruins of the once famous Halicarnassus, the capital of Caria; proceeding thence to Cynthus, now Thermia. On the 23rd of November they passed Egina, and entered the Piraeus, and the following morning, with the permission of the governor of Attica, proceeded to the renowned city of Athens. On their approach to this celebrated capital, the first grand object of their attention was the temple of Theseus, which alone, in the opinion of Lord Charlemont, was worth the whole voyage. From this place they proceeded to the Morea, Thebes, Corinth, and the ancient Euboea; and returned to Athens on the 14th of December, 1749.
From the harbour of Aulis, immortalised by the genius of Homer and the muse of Euripides, they sailed on the 20th of January, 1750. On their voyage to Rhodes and Malta, they encountered a tremendous storm, and very narrowly escaped being lost. They at length arrived at Malta, and after a short quarantine of twenty-three days, were allowed to land, and honoured by, the grand master, Don Emanuel Pinto, a Portuguese nobleman, and all the knights, with the most courteous and hospitable urbanity.
From Malta Lord C. and his friends returned to Italy, where he resumed his exertions to become perfect in that language, which he had cultivated with assiduity, and his consummate accuracy in which, aided by the polished elegance of his mind and manners, rendered his intercourse highly acceptable to persons of the first rank and accomplishments. At Turin he renewed his .intimacy with his former fellow-student, the Prince Royal of Sardinia, then about to be married to a princess of Spain, and the pre
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sence of our noble traveller at the nuptials was particularly requested by the prince; who afterwards took every occasion to evince his unaltered esteem for Lord Charlemont.
His lordship next visited Lucca, Sienna, and other places of celebrity, in company with Lord Aylesbury, whom he met on his travels, and with whom he afterwards maintained an intimate friendship through life. At Verona he experienced a marked attention from the Marchese Scipione Maffei, so honourably mentioned by Lady M. W. Montague, and he cultivated intimacy with the literary society who used to assemble at Maffei’s palace, and with almost every other erudite society in the principal towns of Italy. At Rome he continued two years, and was one of the earliest of the British subjects, who kept a house and establishment there for the reception of his friends: and here, preceptor Murphy, the Fidus Achates of his travels, acted as his major domo in the domestic arrangements of his establishment. The noble young traveller did not confine his attentions or expenditures to his own amusements and pursuits, but was a kind benefactor to several young artists then pursuing their studies at Rome; and especially Mr. William Chambers, whose finances and connections were much limited. His lordship’s kindnesses to him at that period were gratefully remembered through life by that eminent man. With the most distinguished of the Roman and Neapolitan nobles then at Rome, and all the English of worth and eminence there, Lord Charlemont cultivated intimacy and friendship, and afterwards corresponded with many of them. Amongst the British whom he met there were the Lords Cavendish, and the Marquis of Rockingham, with whom he contracted the most cordial and indissoluble friendships, and the same might be! said of his friendship with the Duc de Nivernois, and the venerable Pontiff, Benedict XIV. From Rome his lordship returned to Turin, and spent his time between that-city and Florence till the end of July 1754, when he proceeded to Spain and France, and amongst
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other eminent persons in the latter country, he visited the celebrated Baron Montesquieu, at his residence near Bourdeaux, by whom he was received with the utmost urbanity, and in whom his lordship was not a little astonished to find blended the learning, talents, and profound philosophy of the author of LZ Esprit du Loi, with all the agreeable levity, vivacity, and inexhaustible chit-chat of a refined petit-maitre of the Parisian circles, although then at the age of seventy. His lordship also renewed his intimacy with Monsieur de Nivernois, St. Palaye, Helvétius, the Marquis Mirabeau. At the Count D’Argenson’s, and the Duke de Biron’s, he met many eminent characters both French and English.—In 1755, after an absence of nine years, he returned to his native country, for which, all the attractions of foreign travel and extensive intercourse with the arts, courts, the literature, and manners of the most polished nations of Europe, never abated his affections; nor was his country, during his absence, unmindful of him in whom she contemplated one of her future and best friends and ornaments. His return, therefore, was gladly hailed by all ranks; and the Lord Chancellor Jocelyn, eminent for his discernment, spoke of him as a young nobleman of whom his country had reason to form the highest expectations.
‘The state of society at that day in Ireland had but few inducements to secure the constant residence of a young nobleman just returned from a nine years intercourse with the most polished nations, splendid courts, and eminent characters of Europe, amongst which he had moved. Much of his time, therefore, was spent amongst his friends in England. His zeal, however, to promote the freedom and prosperity of Ireland, never slept, and in the course of some years, his love of the natale solum superseded all foreign attachments, and induced him to make the land of his birth that of his constant residence; although at the time of his return, and long afterwards, it was the prevailing fashion with the Irish nobility and principal gentry, to reside in France or England: for, it must be admitted,
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that Ireland, in those days, had but few inducements for the votaries of refined taste, elegant amusement, or social tranquillity. The history of the men and measures of those days, are so intimately blended with the life of Lord Charlemont, that it will be impossible to detach them from the thread of this memoir; but the brevity to which our sketch is necessarily restrained, will oblige us to exclude all collateral details, not indispensable to our purpose.
The first occasion we find to notice Lord Charlemont as a prominent figure in the political canvass in Ireland, was during the viceroyalty of the Marquis of Hartington, son of the then Duke of Devonshire; a nobleman selected for the suavity of his manners, and the excellence of his character, as a minister well calculated to calm the turbulence which then prevailed between the leading partisans of the Irish and British interests. The Lord Primate Stone, on the one hand, and Mr. Boyle (afterwards Lord Shannon) on the other, were the conflicting candidates for superiority. Both were sustained by vigorous partisans, and Lord Hartington saw, that unless conciliation could be effected, the purposes of his mission would be fruitless.
Lord Charlemont, then, almost a stranger in his own country, and wholly unexperienced in the manoeuvres of old intriguing statesmen, was induced, at the request of the viceroy, to undertake the mediation; and notwithstanding his youth, he carried the point by the influence of his candour and conciliating manners. His own principal object was, to restore tranquillity to his country, and to effect a junction of both chiefs, in aid of the viceroy, whose sole purpose was public utility, and the establishment of harmony at the castle, But the noble young me diator never suspected an underplot which was proceeding at the same time, to establish as a secret article in the treaty, that Mr. Boyle should have an earldom with a pension of S000/. a-year, for thirty-one years; and that the Primate Stone, after a little time, should enjoy his
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due share of power. But this was only one of many hundred instances, which proved to Lord Charlemont’s subsequent experience, that the mask of patriotism and the zealous display of violent opposition, are too often the mere disguise of self-interest and ambition. But whatever claims to the favour of the viceroy this acceptable service might have found for Lord Charlemont, with him they lay dormant; for he sought no favour; and the only stipendiary one conferred upon his family or connections, was the unsolicited compliment of a cornetcy of cavalry to his brother, who had chosen a military life.
In the subsequent viceroyalty of the Duke of Bedford, during the then existing war with France, occurred the descent of the French expedition under Thurot and General Flobert, with twelve thousand. men, upon. Carrickfergus, in the North of Ireland. Lord Charlemont was then governor of the county of Armagh; and on the first news of the attack, he waited on the viceroy to receive his commands. He learned that Lord Rothes, the commander-in-chief, had marched with competent force for the scene of attack; and that the viceroy had determined to follow. Lord Charlemont proceeded forthwith to Belfast, where he found, that the peasantry and yeomanry of the county, mostly his own tenantry, had thronged from the surrounding country to meet the enemy, with such arms as they could procure. They were drawn up in regular bodies; some with old firelocks, but much the greater number with lochaber axes, of which they, were ready to make a desperate use. But when his lordship had advanced to Carrickfergus, he found the enemy, having made but a very short stay in the town which they possessed, after a smart action with the small force there, had fled: for, observing the determined spirit of the country, they had reimbarked their troops, and only waited a fair wind for their escape; having left numbers of killed and wounded on the field, and amongst the latter, Monsieur Flobert, their general, and many of his officers, who, by the active humanity and influence of Lord Charlemont, were saved
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from the fury. of the people, and afterwards treated with protection and generosity. This skirmish, though:not very important ina military point of view, gave to Lord Charlemont the strongest proof of the spirit, promptitude, and bravery of his countrymen in: the defence of their . native soil... The conduct of his lordship on this occasion, andthe spirit displayed by his countrymen, were highly commended in the viceroy’s dispatches to his government in England, and as graciously approved by the reigning monarch, Geo. Il. And his Grace of Bedford, at a subsequent time, upon the appointment of his successor, the Duke of Northumberland, to the viceroyalty, marked. his esteem for Lord Charlemont, by strongly recommending, that. an earldom should be offered to his lordship. This was the more generous, as Lord Charlemont had warmly opposed many of the Duke of Bedford’s measures in parliament.
On the succession of his present majesty to the throne, Lord Halifax was appointed to the viceroyalty of Ireland, and Lord Charlemont being then in London, an event occurred, in which he conceived the honour of his country, and the privileges of its nobility, were materially affected.
The nuptials of the young king with her late majesty, Queen Charlotte, were shortly to be celebrated, and a number of Irish peeresses were then in town, and expected, as a matter of course, to have the honour of walking in the procession, according to their respective ranks, at the august solemnities. But before even the queen had landed, the Duchess of Bedford had received orders to acquaint these ladies, “that they were not to walk, or form any part in the ceremonial.”
Extremely mortified at this unexpected veto, exposing themselves to ridicule, and their country to contempt, they applied to Lord Charlemont for his interference, to vindicate the-honour and privileges of the peerage of Ireland; and his lordship, ever the devoted champion of chivalry, and the honour of his fair countrywomen, used
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his exertions with such effect, that, by the zealous aid of Lord Middleton, Lord Halifax, and Lord Egmont, and (notwithstanding the warm opposition which the object met in the privy-council, called on purpose to adjust the matter, yet who came to no decision) he ultimately succeeded. And his majesty was graciously pleased to forego, the indecision of his council, and to issue his orders for the nobility of Ireland to take their places in the ceremonial, immediately after those of England, respectively according to rank.
About this period the internal state of Ireland was frequently disturbed by the insurrections and tumults of the peasantry; not from any motive connected. with sedition against the government, but merely from the extreme distresses and oppressions under which the common people laboured, from a variety of causes. Amongst others, the severe pressure of the penal laws against catholics operating on four-fifths of the whole population; the exaction of rack-rents from the miserable occupants of the soil; the severe exactions of tythes for the maintenance of the high church clergy, pressing on dissenters as well as catholics, to maintain a priesthood, from whom they derived no instruction or advantage, besides being obliged to maintain their own clergy; the heavy taxes imposed by grand juries for roads, and other county and baronial rates, which, added to the wretched state of agriculture and manufactures, the almost total depression of home trade, and the utter preclusion from foreign commerce, formed a constant and prolific source of irritation, to which the only legislative remedies applied were, severe laws and sanguinary punishments,
In 1763, one of those insurrectionary tumults broke out in the north of Ireland, where the population was chiefly composed of dissenters. The insurgents assumed the appellation of oak-boys, wore oak-boughs in their hats, threatening destruction to all abettors of the tithe system, the rack-rent landlords, and promoters of road assessments. This spirit pervaded, not only the county of
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Armagh where Lord Charlemont was governor, and an extensive land-owner, but also Fermanagh, Derry, and Tyrone. The gentry of the province were greatly alarmed and called on government for military aid; and proclamations were issued, and military execution threatened. But Lord Charlemont, at the request of the government, repaired to the disturbed quarters, and by the influence of his character, and conciliatory persuasions, aided by the moderate gentry of those counties, in a short time, was the principal means of restoring tranquillity without the loss of a single life. On his lordship’s return to the metropolis, he received the warmest acknowledgments from the Duke of Northumberland for his eminent services in this affair, and was informed by his grace, that his majesty was so highly sensible of those services, as to desire him as his lieutenant, to acquaint his lordship, that an earldom awaited his acceptance. To this honour, his lordship, after a few days consideration, bowed assent; but on the express stipulation that the advancement of his rank was inno way to influence his parliamentary conduct. The duke assured his lordship that nothing of the sort was ever in contemplation’; and upon this condition, the earldom was accepted. . His grace only added a wish to be permitted, as an old friend, to testify his pure personal respect for him, in any ~ mode he should be pleased to point out. But Lord Charlemont merely requested the appointment of a member of the linen board, as his estates lay in the linen counties. The appointment had no emolument attached, and it was cheerfully promised him on the first vacancy. His lordship proved his sincerity in the condition, on which he accepted the earldom; for while his patent was passing through the offices, he voted against the address of thanks for the treaty of peace then recently concluded, and afterwards entered his protest against it in the lords journals. But from this moment, there was an end of court favour and distinction to him, nor was he ever nominated to the seat at the linen board; and although the then Lord Chancellor, Bowes, decidedly objected to an
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entry on his patent of peerage, stating, “that it was. wholly. unsolicited, and the spontaneous grant of his majesty,” as informal; his lordship had afterwards added to his patent, an engrossed testimonial, specifying the manner in which it was granted, lest the honour of his earldom should ever be stained with the imputation of motives similar to those which afterwards led. to the profuse creations of new nobility.
In 1764, Lord Charlemont revisited laicdon: and. was nominated by the Dilletanti Society for the promotion of literature and the arts, to the honour of their chair, for which he was eminently qualified by his taste, knowledge, and zeal for their success; and he was chiefly instrumental to the subsequent mission of Dr. Chandler, the celebrated Athenian Stewart, Mr. Revett the architect, and Mr. Pars the draftsman, to Greece, and some parts of the East, to collect information on the ancient state of those countries, and the remaining monuments of antiquity. The society, in the first instance, devoted a fund of 2000/. and for this undertaking the world is indebted for. those subsequent publications at the expense of the society, which have thrown so much light on the subject of classic antiquity.:
The next period in which we find his lordship assume a prominent public part in Ireland, was in the viceroyalty of Lord Townshend; a:nobleman selected for the conviviality of his disposition, and frankness of his manner, as well adapted to conciliate supporters to his government in Ireland. But his parliamentary measures met strenuous opposition. In those contests, it was Lord Charlemont’s fortune to act with the minority. But the government of Lord Townshend will be remembered as the epoch which first unlocked the energies of that country, by the passing of the octennial bill for limiting the duration of parliaments, which, heretofore, was co-extensive with the lives of the members, and only limited otherwise by the chance of dissolution, or the demise of the crown. This measure had been long earnestly called for by the voice of the
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country; and though heads of a bill for the purpose had twice passed the houses of parliament, even with the simulated support of those who were, at bottom, the most decided enemies of the measure, because they were confident it would be stifled in the privy council, through which it must pass, before it could be transmitted to England; the British cabinet, at length vexed by this duplicity, through which the whole odium of rejecting so popular a measure was thrown upon the government, sanctioned the bill, and returned it confirmed, with orders to dissolve the parliament at the close of the session. But it was considered at the time, perhaps truly, to have: been adopted by the British cabinet, as a measure of experiment to break down the phalanx of Irish aristocracy, who controlled: the parliamentary influence of the crown, at their own discretion. The first public writer in suggesting this measure; was Doctor Charles Lucas, the friend and physician of Lord Charlemont; whose able advocacy excited the exertions of other spirited writers, and finally the voice of the whole country, whose object was ultimately successful: an instance (as Lord Charlemont was wont to observe) that should stimulate the exertions of every true patriot, and teach him to cherish, as an infallible maxim, that every measure, intrinsically just and good, will finally be carried by virtuous and steady perseverance.”—A maxim, which he solemnly recommended to his children after him, adding, that “although the first advocate of a good measure might not live to witness its success, yet he may lay the foundation of that success for his survivors: and that the man who lays the first stone of the temple of liberty, deserves as much, and perhaps more, credit with posterity, than he who lives to complete the edifice.”
In the year 1768, Lord Charlemont married Miss Hickman, daughter of Robert Hickman, Esq. of the county: of Clare; a lady, whose mind and accomplishments were perfectly congenial with his own,. and eminently contributed to his subsequent happiness through life.
The dissolution of the old parliament, in consequence of
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the octennial bill, created a marked change in the energies of the country, and introduced a succession of new and splendid characters on the senatorial stage; and the administration of Lord Townshend became in consequence, a perpetual scene of arduous contest. At no one period of Irish history, did there appear so numerous a host of able men, or a more brilliant display of talents and eloquence in the parliament. The country began to rouse, as it were, from a political lethargy. The limitation of eight years to existence of parliament on the one hand, taught the representative! body to feel, a little, their dependence on popular sentiment; and the people, on the other, to hope that the talents of their honest gentry would have a fair chance of being more generally exerted in their cause; while the great borough-owners looked to the lucrative expedient which would recur to them on the demise of every parliament, of turning their influence with advantage to their political or pecuniary account. This measure also sowed the first germ of a future system, little, if at all, contemplated at the moment; namely, the extension of the elective franchise to the catholics, who, for a series of years before and after, were wholly excluded that privilege, their subsequent attainment of which, was at least as much owing to the electioneering views, as-to the liberality of parliamentary leaders.
Amongst the leading characters eminent in the political contests of the day, were, in the upper house, Simon, Earl of Carhampton, and Charles Coote, Earl of Bellamont; John Scott, a barrister, afterwards Earl of Clonmell and chief justice; Walter Hussey Burgh, afterwards chief baron of the exchequer; Sir William Osborne; the celebrated Henry Flood; John Hely Hutchinson, afterwards secretary of state, and provost of Trinity College; and Dennis Daly, member for Galway.
Lord Charlemont thought it his duty to his country uniformly to act with the opposition, although he frequently viewed with regret the revolt of some of his ablest friends, whose patriotic fortitude could not withstand the
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temptation of office and emolument. The octennial bill was the only measure as yet conceded by the British cabinet to the wishes of the Irish nation; but the complaints of the country were now directed to other grievances, which, so long as they continued, were considered as insurmountable impediments to the honour, independence, and prosperity of the nation. These grievances were,—1st, the claims of the British parliament to the right of passing laws to bind Ireland; thus superseding the authority of her own legislature. 2dly, The ruinous restraints upon her commerce, which debarred her from all direct trade with the British colonies, and all share in the privileges of British subjects under the navigation act, and reduced her population to misery. And, Sadly, the necessity of transmitting all bills passed by the two houses of the Irish parliament through the medium of the lord-lieutenant and privy council, in whom was vested the power of cushioning such bills (as the phrase was) i. e. stifling them in transitu; and, if they survived that ordeal, they were afterwards subject to mutilation, and even death, in the privy council of England. It was utterly. in vain for Ireland to hope for any measure of amelioration, political or commercial, under such control, which was supposed in any degree to interfere with British interests.
These were the prominent features of political evils, which the patriots of that day considered as the sole source of degradation and debasement to their country. The removal of which might lead to the future mitigation of minor mischiefs; but, practically, those very minor mischiefs were the heaviest grievances under which the country internally suffered; namely, the divisions of the people into sectarious classes, cherishing mutual rancour and hostility to each other; and the intolerable yoke of the penal laws against catholics, which weighed down four-fifths of the population to a state of debasement and vassalage little better than that of the boors of Russia, or of other despotic governments of the north. This system,
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originating in the prejudice and hostility of the English settlers in that country under successive reigns, who possessed the'confiscated estates of the old rebellious chiefs, (many of them of English descent,) who resisted English: domination; and more especially the followers of Crom=+ well and William IIIf. who, having obtained the ruling power, seemed determined to wreak interminable ven= geance on the devoted Irish, for their, perhaps, mistaken, but certainly most unfortunate loyalty to their British monarchs, Charles I and his son James II, The victorious party thought they had no security for their new possessions in Ireland, even under the protection of British power, so long as a vestige of liberty, of property, or of influence remained with the catholics, who formed four-fifths of the population; and hence they formed a system of laws against that sect, calculated not merely to subjugate, but to brutalise them,—a system which a protestant legislator and eminent lawyer and'statesman, shortly before this period, in his.endeavours to mitigate those laws, said,— “They were a disgrace to the statute books of an enlightened nation; and so odious in their principles, that one might think they were passed in hell, and that demons were the legislators.” And, in: fact, if the catholics of Ireland did not become the most ignorant, stupid, and ferocious savages, it is by no means attributable to the spirit and letter of those statutes, so eminently calculated to render them such.
The octennial -bill, which was balm to the political wounds of the privileged sect, was a new source of bitter oppression to the degraded one. Every new election gave rise to new contests in every county; and every candidate sought to increase the numbers of his elective force. “A freehold, or profit rent, of forty shillings a year for thirtyone years, constituted every protestant an elector; and the result was, that every eighth year, the catholic, whose farm had been cultivated for thirty preceding years by the labours of himself and his children, was turned out of possession, with his family, to beg, if they chose, in order
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to make room for a: manufacture of as many: protestant freeholds as his land could admit. Not. only the candidates, but: their friends and relatives had recourse to: the same expedient; and the system, in progress, was further. improved by shortening the term of thirty-one years leases to the catholic down to twelve or eight, so as) to terminate about the eve of a general election,—a ceremony in which the catholic had no share, except: the honour of bearing a part with his cudgel, to support the cause of his landlord, or his friends, who happened to be candidates or partisans, in those ferocious conflicts uniformly prevalent in contests for representation.
The dissenters, principally inhabiting the north, although exempt from the severities sustained by the catholics, were not without some share of legal disability. For, although the kirk was viewed as a half-sister of the high church, still her children were not regarded without some share of jealousy. Their Scottish descent rendered them in view of some orthodox zealots, as hereditary friends to the house of Stewart, while by others they were. suspected, partly as. descendants of the Cromwellian: school, and tinctured with the principles of the puritans in the days of the first Charles, and partly as secret adherents of the house of Stewart: and /all together, a sort: of mules between Republicans and Jacobites. They were, however, by. no means cordial to the ascendancy: of the dominating sect, for, in common with the catholics, they were heavily assessed by tythes for the support of the high church, from whose ministry they derived no advantage; while they had a ministry of their own to support: and although they were eligible to affairs under; the state, their admission was barred by sect oaths, and religious compliances with high church discipline; that the boon was a bitter pill to the presbyters of the old: school: but then they cordially hated the pope and the papists, and to this saving principle they ultimately owed the indulgence of a bill,, passed from year to year, dispensing with those compliances, and allowing further time to, qualify....Thus they enjoyed, as
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yearly tenants, privileges which served to keep them in good humour, but which might be abrogated at the discretion of parliament, so that proscription was still suspended over their heads, like the sword of Dionysius, quamdiu se bene gesserint, i. e. during good behaviour. But the mutual religious antipathy between them and the catholics, who viewed them as enemies of a deeper blue than the high church, was a clencher for the system of divide et impera,
To the system of the penal laws, although many liberal and enlightened men in and out of parliament were long hostile, yet the great majority of the protestants retained the prejudices absorbed with their mother’s milk. Lord Charlemont himself, even with all his education, liberality, and travelled experience in other countries, was never friendly to a total, and certainly not to a rapid, abrogation of the system, although his most intimate and confidential friends were the strenuous advocates for the total abolition. But even the catholics, from the knowledge of his character, respected his prejudices, and considered him a zealous and conscientious friend to his country. But though he resisted every motion of influence or aggrandisement to the wealthier catholic, he was desirous to alleviate the sufferings of the peasantry; and, in 1768, he had brought a bill into the house of lords, to enable the poor labourer to take a lease for ninety years of so much ground as might serve him for a cottage and potatoe garden: which, however, was then rejected. This measure was frequently moved in the commons, and as often failed. In 1772 he tried it again in the lords, and during some thin attendances, succeeded as far as the second reading and committal: but, to use his lordship’s own language, “the trumpet of bigotry had sounded the alarm; to give the wretched cottager a permanent interest in his miserable habitation was said to be.an infringement on the penal code, which. threatened the destruction of church and state! A cry was raised that the protestant interest was in danger. The lords were summoned, the house was crouded
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with the zealous supporters of orthodoxy and oppression, and: I was voted out of the chair, not wholly ers ie of being little better than a papist.” .
The war in which England was engaged with her. American colonies ultimately involved her in a war with France, and Spain, who, at first covertly, and at last openly espoused the cause of the colonists; and while England and Ireland. were drained of their troops to carry on the ineffectual struggle with the colonies, the European seas swarmed with American and French privateers, and the squadrons of France not only swept the British seas, but hovered on our coasts, and menaced our fleets in the yery mouths of their own harbours. The invasion of Ireland was deemed by France a favourable diversion in support of America, to distract the attention of England, and oblige her to keep her trocps at home for the defence of her domestic territories; and the project was actually set on foot for the invasion of Ireland, where the whole force of the line, left there, after drafts and selections for American service, consisted of about five hundred men. The people of Belfast, mindful of the danger their town had risked) eighteen years before, in the former reign, from the descent of Thurot, and conceiving the present a much more formidable and alarming crisis, applied to the government for a force for their protection and that of their province. But their application was plainly and candidly answered by Sir Richard Heron, secretary to the then lord-lieutenant, Lord rn egeeie oy? sh that government could afford them none?
This answer raised alarm throughout the whole country, and, by degrees, roused the whole nation to a sense of the pressing necessity of arming for self-defence against the common danger; and this was the first germ of that volunteer army which occupies so prominent a place in the modern history of Ireland. It is not our purpose to detail minutely its growth and progress to maturity. Government had plainly abdicated the national defence. The people volunteered, and armed, and arrayed, at their
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own expense, for their own security. They chose their own officers, were self-clothed, armed, disciplined, and . sustained; and in the course of a year or two amounted to a force'of eighty thousand.
Of the regiment formed by the town of Armagh, Lord Charlemont was chosen to the command, as were the principal noblemen and gentlemen in other districts to the local corps. The jealousy against the catholics, who by law were debarred the use of arms, precluded their admission to join these corps for some time; but a patriotic ardour for the common safety of the country, consumed for a time all sectarious prejudices, and fixed the whole national mind into one compound, like Corinthian brass. The government did not view, without astonishment and regret, this unexpected combination and formidable array, the effects of its own work, and more remotely, of its predecessors and of England; by whose policy there had been but too many dragon’s teeth planted in the soil for a century, which there was some reason to apprehend would, on the first favourable occasion, spring up to armed men. If it were now even possible, they felt it would be highly rash and impolitic to attempt the disarray of the volunteers; and the humiliations which the British arms had felt from their ineffectual conflicts in America, taught the government rather to dissemble their antipathies, and learn to cherish the only force which could protect the country at such a crisis. Therefore the supporters as well as the opponents of administration joined their ranks, and in little more than a year their numbers amounted to four thousand two hundred more. 3 Men of all sects and orders met in the same ranks, shared in the same fare, and the same services, forgot their divisions, conversed with each other, not as formerly, like enemies or rivals, but as countrymen and friends. It became every day more clear to the liberal and unbiassed friends of the country, that something should be done for the relief of the catholics, who were in effect “strangers at home.” The people of Ireland had long
‘.
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looked forward to the result of the American contest as the criterion of their own fate; and many of the most leading landed proprietors foresaw, that, if America should be successful in shaking off the government of England, her next project would be to encourage emigration from Europe, to people her boundless but fertile solitudes; and, with such an opportunity, it was natural to expect that the catholic population, of Ireland would: prefer: expatriation and liberty in America, to slavery, debasement, and oppression at home; and that population was of some value to the land-owner, if not to the government. . Some efforts were made in England, by Sir George Saville and other leading men, for the relief of the sails there; and Lord North, then at the head of the British ministry, was highly favourable to relaxation in Ireland, but thought that any measure for that purpose should originate in the Irish parliament. Accordingly Mr. Luke Gardiner, afterwards Lord Mountjoy, a man of large possessions in the country, in 1778, brought ina bill, the chief -objects of which were to empower catholics, subscribing the oaths of allegiance, to take leases of lands for nine hundred and ninety-nine years; and to render such. property devisable and descendible, as that enjoyed by protestants;—and, also, to abrogate that infamous law for enabling, and consequently encouraging, the son of a catholic gentleman to make his father, tenant for life, and. possess himself of the inheritance, by proving his, father a catholic, and conforming himself to the established church. This bill was resisted in every stage; but finally carried in the house of commons; and. in. the lords. it passed by a majority, thirty-six to twelve. Such was the change, excited by the rapid alteration .of circumstances, in parliamentary sentiment within the short space of. six years; and thus was the long proscribed catholic restored once more to the privilege of obtaining a permanent inheritance in his native country. The last-mentioned clause of this bill, Lord Charlemont supported, but opposed it on other points. The bill was gratefully accepted as an
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important boon, and produced effects in the agriculture and industry of the country within ten years, unparalleled in the history of any nation in Europe within the like period. Still the distresses of the country were great, and her revenues reduced to a state of insolvency, from the trammelled state of her external commerce; and the nation now felt itself ina situation to remonstrate with England, in firm but moderate language, for the removal of her grievances, and a fair participation in the rights of British subjects, as a country annexed to the British crown, though under.a distinct parliament. It remained then to establish the independent privileges of that parliament, free from the control of an external senate; and the constitutional rights of Ireland, as a distinct country, to be governed by her own king, lords, and commons, under laws of their own enactment.
Now commenced the most active period of Lord Charlemont’s life. The volunteer army daily increased in strength and respectability. It was not composed of ignorant mercenaries enlisted from the lowest orders of* the community, and reduced to discipline by rigour, kept in order by severity, with little understanding or warm feeling for the interests of their country; animal machines —thoughtful of nothing but their pay, and implicit obedience to the commands of their officers. The volunteers, on the contrary, were composed universally of educated men, who read, thought, understood, and felt, for the cause in which they were engaged;—for a country where they possessed rights and interests, which they had shewn themselves prompt to defend from a foreign enemy, and which they now wished to render worthy the name of a sister nation to England. Lord Charlemont was chosen to the chief command of the Leinster army, which gave him a just celebrity or distinction, which he acknowledged as the principal and dearest honour of his life; and happy it was for the country and the empire, that he, and men of his character for wisdom and moderation, were selected by the whole body to hold the chief sway
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in their direction. For it was by the influence of their wisdom, the veneration paid to it by their country, that every thing like intemperate ebullition was. restrained, whenever such a disposition partially appeared; and the spirit of the whole was directed by loyalty to their king, but a manly and firm devotion to the rights and just claims of their country. So far as depended on Lord Charlemont, he devoted his whole time and mind to the duties he had assumed. At this time the distress of the manufacturers was great beyond conception, and tens of thousands were supported by charity, and the value of cattle and corn was so reduced by embargoes, and the consequent. cessation of external demand, that the tenantry could not pay their rents. The British government, and many eminent men in parliament, were willing to yield some measures of relief, by removing the restrictions upon Irish external commerce; but the jealous clamours of the British manufacturers prevented them. Lord Charlemont corresponded with the Marquis of Rockingham, and other enlightened friends to Ireland in the British senate; but the influence of a few manufacturing towns in England prevailed against the interests of all Ireland. At length the whole country, as one man, determined on an experiment to relieve themselves—and entered into non-importation and non-consumption agreements against all English commomodities whatever. This was the expedient which Dean Swift had in .ain advised, half a century before. And it suddenly produced signal effects: despondency amongst the working orders was changed to joy and gratitude. Those of the higher orders who had been most supine, were now stimulated to a sense of their duty, and the British manufacturers were quickly taught to feel, that some of their best interests were most vulnerable in that country, whose claims they resisted with such selfish hostility. Matters were now approaching to a crisis. Lord Charlemont had the honour, as well as the high satisfaction to introduce into the house of commons, as representative for his borough of Charlemont, that justly celebrated
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orator and patriot, Henry,Grattan, then a young barrister; but whose talents afterwards shed so much lustre upon his country. Towards the close of the session of parliament in 1778, an address was moved by Mr. Dennis, Daly, the object of which was, to open the trade of Ireland— but it was negatived. That gentleman andhis friends (of whom Lord Charlemont was a principal one) determined to renew it in the next session: and an address was accordingly framed, and moved by Mr. Grattan in answer to the lord-lieutenant’s speech from the throne. It stated the necessity and justice of the claims of Ireland; and Mr. Burgh, then prime-serjeant, on the suggestion of Mr. Flood, moved an. amendment to the preamble, “that nothing but a free trade could save the country from ruin,” and the amendment was carried unanimously. When the house went up with the address to the castle, the Dublin Volunteers, under the command of the Duke of Leinster, lined the streets through which, they. passed, in grateful approbation, and the house, immediately at. the next meeting, voted their unanimous thanks to them. And shortly afterwards they passed, a money bil for six months, and no longer. These proceedings excited the attention of the British ministry; and some commercial, resolutions in favour of Ireland, were ably introduced by Lord North, in the British house of commons. These resolutions re-opened the woollen trade of Ireland, and gave a freedom of commerce with the British colonies, which were received in Ireland with marked demonstrations of public joy and gratitude. Mr. Grattan, some short time afterwards, acting in concert with his noble friend, Lord Charlemont, moved in parliament a declaration of rights in favour of Ireland, prefaced by a most animated and splendid oration. It was, however, resisted by the court members, and failed. The popular indignation roused by this circumstance, vented itself in angry but justifiable resolutions, and addresses. Parliament did not rise till September 1780, and Lord Buckinghamshire was recalled from the government the Christmas following,
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He was succeeded by the Earl of Carlisle, accompanied by Mr. Eden, (afterwards Lord Auckland,) as his secretary. The nation called out for independence; for without.a free constitution, they regarded a free trade as insecure. Lord Carlisle did not meet parliament till the October after his arrival; and the plan of a national bank was proposed as 4 measure of popularity to his administration, and adopted.
In the year 1781, an event took place. peculiarly illustrative of the ardent loyalty, which. prevailed in the northern volunteer army, different in no respect from what would have been shewn in any other part of the kingdom, had occasion required it. A rumour was prevalent, that the French had determined on the invasion of Ireland; Lord Charlemont, in consequence, waited on the lord-lieutenant, who acquainted him there was strong reason to believe the rumour authentic, and that a letter from Lord Stormont, then secretary of state, gave many particulars of the proposed expedition, and stated that Cork was the meditated point of attack. Lord Charlemont proposed, that, with his excellency’s permission, he should proceed to the north, with “the fullest reliance of obtaining” a volunteer auxiliary force there, ready to march to the southward, and baffle every attempt of the enemy. The viceroy warmly approved his proposal, and his lordship set out next morning, and reached Armagh that night. The officers of his own corps (which consisted of one thousand infantry, with two troops of horse and two companies of artillery) were at that time in the town, attending the assizes; and no sooner had his lordship stated to them his object, and asked what they would authorise him to say to the viceroy, than the lieutenant-colonel, authorised by the rest of the officers, expressed that “his regiment were extremely hurt that his lordship, whom they had unanimously chosen as their colonel, should feel it necessary to make an application so hurtful to, their feelings, for with the reliance which they hoped he had on their spirit and obedience, he should in the first instance nave assured the
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lord-lieutenant that his regiment were ready, at a moment’s warning, to march and join the king’s troops at Cork, and he had then but to send down his orders, and they would have instantly obeyed, and marched to meet the enemy.” They would hearken to no declaratory resolutions;—it was only requisite to inform his excellency they should be at Cork as soon as any other troops in the king’s service, and they entreated he would never again use them so ill as to make a similar application, but answer for them in his own name, and command them any where, at any time. The whole northern army followed this gallant example, and fifteen thousand men declared themselves ready to march, at a moment’s notice, for the south, and place themselves under the command of his majesty’s generals, leaving a sufficient force behind for the defence of the northern counties. This promptitude gave the highest pleasure to his lordship, because it enabled him to shew to his excellency the disposition of his countrymen. His excellency, at his lordship’s request, ordered camp equipages to be furnished to such corps as were unprovided; and it may be fairly presumed, that the same spirit, manifested throughout the country, induced the enemy to abandon his project.
In such intervals of leisure as his military duties afforded, the peaceful retreat of his elegant villa at Marino, bordering on Dublin bay, or his town residence in Rutland square, afforded the opportunities of literary amusement, and intercourse with his friends in the metropolis. Both structures were simple, but tasteful specimens of architecture, in the Grecian style, and furnished with excellent libraries, and works of statuary and paintings, by the first artists.
The parliament at length assembled, and Lord Charlemont, on the first day of its session, moved the thanks of the house of lords to the volunteers, which passed unanimously, as did.a similar motion on the same day in the house of commons. The viceroy, Lord Carlisle, most strongly recommended to the English cabinet, a dereliction
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of all claims of the British parliament to bind Ireland by any laws made at Westminster, as theretofore; and Lord Charlemont looked with confidence to the conduct of parliament itself, from which he augured the speedy accomplishment of the great objects so anxiously desired by the country. At length took place the memorable convention at Dungannon, the proposal for which originated from the southern battalion of the first Ulster regiment, commanded by Lord Charlemont. The officers and delegates of that battalion met on the 28th of December, 1781, and resolved to publish a declaration “that they beheld with the utmost concern the little attention paid to the constitutional rights of Ireland, by the majority of those whose duty it was to establish and preserve them,” and they invited every volunteer association throughout their province to send delegates to deliberate on the alarming situation of public affairs; and fixed on Friday, the 15th of February, 1782, for such an assembly, at Dungannon. On that day the representatives of one hundred and forty-three corps of volunteers of Ulster assembled accordingly; Colonel William Irvine took the chair; and the assembly was composed of gentlemen of the most considerable fortune, their loyalty and patriotism were well known and acknowledged, and they formed twenty resolutions, declaratory of the rights and grievances of their country, and at the same time expressive of their exultation in the late relaxation of the penal laws against their Roman catholic countrymen; and ° they concluded by voting the following short, spirited, and impressive address to the minority in both houses of parliament: . “My lords and gentlemen; %
“We thank you for your noble and spirited, though hitherto ineffectual efforts in defence of the great constitutional rights of your country: go on! the almost unanimous voice of the people is with you, and, in a free country, the voice of the people must prevail.
“We know our duty to our sovereign, and are loyal. We know our duty to ourselves, and are resolved to be
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free. We seek for our rights, and no more than our rights: and in so just a pursuit, we should wha the being of a Providence, if we doubted of success.”
The moderate temper but manly firmness of this address greatly disappointed the hopes of the enemies of the country; and the proceedings of the convention seemed to attach the applause even of foes, as well as friends. In little more than a month the British ministry gave way; and Lord Carlisle having sent in his resignation to London, through his secretary, Mr. Eden,—his lordship was succeeded in the viceroyalty by the Duke of Portland, attended by Colonel Fitzpatrick, (brother to Lord Ossory,) as his secretary. His grace, on his arrival, was hailed by all ranks as the harbinger of liberty, conciliation, and peace. A whig ministry in England, at the head of which was the Marquis of Rockingham, and a whig viceroy in Ireland, who had zealously co-operated with that ministry, were omens highly auspicious to the hopes of Lord Charlemont, for the completion of those objects for which he had laboured throughout his political life, and so highly were his character, his integrity, and his weight in the political scale of his country estimated, that the change of men and measures were announced to him by a most cordial and congratulatory letter from his old friend, the Marquis of Buckingham; and his confidence and support earnestly solicited by the new viceroy and his secretary immediately on their arrival. He received at the same time, another letter from Mr. Fox, couched in a similar spirit of confidence, and giving the strongest assurances of the cordial. wishes of the new administration to promote in every way the prosperity, the freedom, and the attachment of Ireland; to which suitable answers were returned by his lordship.
In the proceedings of the i6th April, 1782, the reso-. Jutions moved by Mr, Grattan, in the house of commons, and carried, were objected to at the castle, not so much for their substance (for the British ministry meant fairly) as because they were thought to require some modifications, which, in the opinion of Lord Charlemont and his friends,
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would have diminished their weight and efficacy. Perhaps, the Duke of Portland might think they would not meet the concurrence of the British cabinet without some alteration. Lord Charlemont had some interviews with his grace on the subject, and declared the intention of himself and his friends, to move the resolutions again in both houses without any alteration; and that ministers might take what course they thought fit. In this state of uncertainty, when the house met, it was wholly unknown to Lord Charlemont and his friends, whether the resolutions and address, which Mr. Grattan was to move, would, be opposed by government, or not. Mr. Grattan, however, persevered; and, though much indisposed, he prefaced his declaration of rights by a most splendid oration.. He stated the three great causes of complaint on the part of Ireland; namely, the declaratory statute of George I enabling the British parliament to make laws to bind Ireland; the perpetual meeting bill, which rendered the standing army of Ireland independent of the control of parliament; and the unconstitutional powers of the Irish privy council, to mutilate, or suppress, bills of the Irish parliament on their way to England for the royal assent. The repeal of these obnoxious statutes, and the-abolition of that most improper sway of the Irish privy council, were, he said, the terms on which alone he could be induced to support the government. The address to his majesty, stating the grievances of Ireland, and the declaration of rights, were then moved by him in answer to the king’s message. The sense of the house, in favour of the address, was unequivocally manifest. All opposition, if any were intended, was relinquished; and the address passed unanimously;—as did a similar one in the house of lords. The British ministry acted with candour and magnanimity. Mr. Fox moved the repeal of the obnoxious statute of George I in the British house of commons with his usual ability. Lord Shelburne moved a similar resolution in the lords; and the repeal was immediately adopted. If any thing could surpass the patriotic zeal
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and temperate firmness which marked the conduct of the Irish parliament and people in pursuit of their constitutional rights, it was the unbounded joy and generous gratitude they manifested on this first pledge of political sincerity on the part of the British government toward Ireland. The parliament Voted twenty thousand seamen for his majesty’s navy; and the whole volunteer body cheerfully engaged to contribute their aid and influence in raising the men. A sum of £50,000 was unanimously voted to Mr. Grattan, as a tribute from his grateful country, for those exertions of his eloquence which so mainly contributed to the restoration of her rights; and a day of public thanksgiving was appointed to the Almighty for that union, harmony, and cordial affection so happily effected between the two kingdoms.
But, notwithstanding the unanimity which seemed to have prevailed in parliament, that the simple repeal of the statute of George I was an ample renouncement of all right, on the part of the English parliament, to legislate for Ireland, a few members, at the head of whom was Mr. Flood, now came forward to start. objections, and to declare that nothing was done, and that nothing short of entire and formal renunciation on the part of England, of all right to bind Ireland by British laws, could be valid or efficient. But all the powers of Mr. Flood’s eloquence could not persuade the parliament to adopt this notion; and they declared themselves almost unanimously satisfied with the simple repeal, as fully binding upon the honour of England: “The nation,” said Mr. Grattan, “that insists on the humiliation of another, is a foolish nation.” But notwithstanding the satisfaction expressed by parliament, a very opposite feeling prevailed out of doors—discontent gained ground— the arguments of Mr. Flood had a very general influence.
On the 31st of July, the volunteers of Belfast declared, by a majority of two, “that the nation ought not to be satisfied with what had been done.” Many other corps followed their example: and Mr. Grattan, for whose patriotic conduct and eloquent exertions, the whole nation
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seemed of late to be so unanimously grateful, was reviled, both in and out of parliament, by the partisans of Mr. Flood’s doctrines against the efficacy of simple repeal, But that which seemed to heap new combustibles on this newly kindled flame, was the attempt of Lord Abingdon to introduce a bill in the British house of lords, asserting the right of Great Britain to legislate externally for Ireland; and the basis of this bill was a preamble, stating, that whereas the kings of England having been acknowledged sovereigns of the English seas for eighteen centuries, the British parliament had the sole right to make laws to regulate the external commerce of Great Britain, and all such kingdoms as are under its sovereignty. There was also a clause in the bill, stating, that whereas Queen Elizabeth having formerly forbad the kings of France to build more ships than they then had, without her leave first obtained, it enacted that no kingdom, as above stated, Ireland, as well as others, should presume to build a navy, or any ship or ships of war without leave from the lord high admiral of England.” The very announcement of this bill excited a strong and general ferment in Ireland, and raised such distrust and indignation among the volunteer corps who had pledged their exertions for raising the twenty thousand seamen, that they desisted from their laudable endeavours: and a numerous and respectable corps in the metropolis, then under the immediate command of Lord Charlemont, entered into very warm resolutions against enrolling any seamen, and sent their resolutions to his lordship, then in the north, with the warmest expressions of personal respect and kindness. To this his lordship returned a polite and moderate answer, in which he shewed them the rashness of suffering themselves to be alarmed by the measure in question, which was “the production of an individual nobleman, actuated by his own private whim and prejudice, and not adopted, nor even suffered to proceed to discussion in the English parliament. The speech of Lord Abingdon in his attempt to introduce
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this bill, was ably and explicitly replied to, and. the bill was not even suffered to lie on the table. Were the volunteers of Ireland, therefore, upon every breath of rumour, to agitate their own minds, to forfeit the steadiness of their character, or to desist from proceeding in a measure to which “the nation was bound in honour, and so essentially necessary to the security of their country, as well as England, by manning the Channel fleet for common defence against the common enemy?” This persuasive remonstrance had the desired effect, and all apprehension vanished. A most respectable meeting was called in Dublin, and Lord Charlemont was requested to take the chair, and, pursuant to the desire of the meeting, wrote to every sheriff in Ireland, strongly recommending to their zealous support this important service; and from all quarters received the most satisfactory assurances of their compliance. The act for repealing the statute of George I having received the royal assent, a correspondence followed between Lord Charlemont, and the Marquis of Rockingham, and Mr. Burke. The marquis, in terms of the most cordial esteem, congratulated his lordship on the happy change of circumstances for his country, as did Mr. Burke; and both earnestly recommended the speediest possible completion of the generous and well-timed offer of Ireland, to raise the twenty thousand seamen: acquainting him that Lord Keppel had sent one of the best and most alert officers in the navy, Captain M’Bride, to receive the men; which would enable him in three weeks to man fourteen additional ships of the line, for Lord Howe’s command, which would enable the British fleet to cope with the enemy, though superior in number of their line of battle ships; and nothing but the friendly efforts of Ireland could rapidly furnish men for the purpose.
To this letter Lord Charlemont answered, by expressing his confidence in the success of the measure, in spite of a discontented party, and promising his own best-efforts to promote it. The men were accordingly raised, Lord
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Howe’s fleet of fourteen sail of the line were manned, and the world has heard of the result, that the enemy’s fleet — was utterly defeated.
In the summer of 1782 a plan was proposed by. government to supply the deficiency of the troops of the line, which, from the number of twelve thousand men, settled in Lord Townshend’s administration, as the standing force of the country, was now reduced by drafts for foreign service to three thousand men, not sufficient. for garrison duty: and the plan proposed was to raise four provincial regiments of one thousand men each, under the name of fencibles; to be enrolled, for three years, or for the war, and officered by Irish gentlemen, with rank according to the numbers they should respectively raise, and not be sent out of Ireland. The plan was submitted to Lord Charlemont, with an offer of commanding the whole or part, with the rank. of major-general.. The latter offer he declined on the first instant, and afterwards stated to the viceroy his objections to the entire plan. From his peculiar situation, he knew it would be highly unpopular. If, however, on full consideration, it should appear eligible, its mere unpopularity would not sway him as an honest man. The volunteers would certainly consider it as a direct attempt to undermine them, who had manifested such alacrity for the defence of. their country. In the result, however, Lord Charlemont’s predictions of the unpopularity of the measure were fully verified, and although there were above one hundred and fifty applications for commissions in the proposed regiments, and many of those from the most outrageously abusive enemies of the fencible scheme, the plan was abandoned; and the lord-lieutenant expressed to Lord. Charlemont his regret that his lordship had proved so true a prophet.
When the volunteer regiments of Leinster were reviewed by Lord Charlemont in the Phoenix Park, the Duke of Portland was present; and on being thanked by the noble general at the next levée, for the honour his grace had done the volunteer troops by his presence;—his grace
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replied, “‘ Surely my lord, a body of troops formed on such principles, could not be so near one without a desire on my part to see their exertions in the field.” The like attention was shewn every where by the officers of government; and whenever the king’s troops, then under the chief command of General Burgoyne, met with the volunteers, military honours were reciprocated. To Lord Charlemont himself, as a commandant, every degree of military respect was paid by the king’s troops wherever he passed. And on his road to Limerick, passing through the town of Nenagh, a party of the 18th light dragoons insisted on mounting guard for him at his inn, whilst he staid, and a party of the same regiment escorted him on his journey, as far as he would permit.
Earl Temple (afterwards Marquis of Buckingham) succeeded the Duke of Portland in the viceroyalty in 1782 and, previous to his arrival, wrote to Lord Charlemont announcing his appointment, and soliciting, as his predecessor had done, his lordship’s support to his administration. Lord Charlemont replied, by expressing his regret for the departure of the Duke of Portland, whose principles and conduct had been the sole motive of his attachment and support; and assuring the new viceroy of his support upon the same grounds only. 7
About this time, his majesty was pleased to found an order of knighthood in Ireland, by the appellation of The Knights of St. Patrick; and Earl Temple, who had his majesty’s commands to select such a list of Irish names, as might best promote his majesty’s intentions of placing this order on the most honourable footing—addressed, with his own hand, a letter to Lord Charlemont, stating, that he could not better promote his majesty’s wishes, than by addressing himself to a nobleman, whose birth, rank, fortune, and character, as well as his eminent public services, entitled him to the veneration and gratitude of his country; and requesting permission to place his name on the list of new knights. This honour his lordship accepted with suitable expressions of his feelings for the distinction
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——but on the same conditions of perfect parliamentary independence, as he had many years before accepted the dignity of his earldom; and both were the more honourable, because the spontaneous offers of the crown, wholly unsolicited on his part. .
Notwithstanding the conciliatory measures then accomplished, there were still some embers of former discontent on the subject of simple repeal, not extinguished, and nothing short of an explicit and total renunciation of the British parliament to legislate for Ireland, could appease the malcontents. Lord Charlemont and his friends still thought such a demand indelicate, because indicative of suspicion towards the honour and sincerity of England. But his lordship, who had daily intelligence of what was passing, saw clearly the enemies of tranquillity in Ireland would never be quiet until this point was conceded: and he therefore judged, that to relinquish that point, would afford the last chance of exploding all pretences for irritation. But anew flame was kindled by the circumstance of a writ of error from the Irish courts to the court of king’s bench in England, transmitted previous to the new order of things, being entertained and acted upon by Lord Mansfield... This circumstance was regarded as an instance of punic faith on the part of England: and the uproar against the simple repealists, was louder than ever. In vain did Lord Charlemont strive to allay the gathering storm; although he considered the occurrence fortunate, as it would prevent such a circumstance being repeated in future. But it led to the adoption of a measure which silenced all apprehensions, for the draught of a reconciliatory bill was transmitted by Lord Temple to Westminster, which was introduced into the British parliament with some modification; passed both houses without opposition; and finally received the royal assent. Lord Temple continued in office until the coalition between Mr. Fox, and Lord North, took place; when his lordship was succeeded by Lord Northington. The friendship between them and Lord Charlemont continued undiminished, and
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the volunteers of Dublin co-operating with their venerated commander, escorted Earl Temple to the water-side on his return to England, as a testimonial of their gratitude and respect.. Lord Northington, who was appointed under the influence of Mr. Fox, paid the same respect and confidence to Lord Charlemont, his predecessors had done; and by him his lordship was called to the privy council; an honour which he accepted on the condition that his friend Mr. Grattan should be called to a seat in the same assembly; an arrangement which shortly afterwards took place.
The friends of conciliation and tranquillity were now congratulating each other upon the happy termination of all political disputes between the sister countries, when a new and unforeseen theme of contention arose, which, in its progress, more seriously threatened the public tranquillity than any topic which had heretofore heated the public mind;—it was the question of parliamentary reform. The fatal issue of the American war had completely chagrined the advocates of that measure; and the galling weight of taxation incurred by that contest, exasperated the people of England—quite weary of so hopeless a pursuit, in which the great majority of them had been so ardent in the outset. The corrupt state of parliamentary representation was now considered as the source of all their calamities; and Mr. Pitt, then just of age, and first advancing into public notice, became the avowed champion of parliamentary reform in England. The people of Ireland had at least as much reason as those of England to complain of the state of their representation; and the voice of reform in England was immediately re-echoed in Ireland; not simply by assemblies of the people, but by the volunteer army,—issuing indeed from the people, but still a military body, numerous and formidable; and however well intentioned that army in general was, there was much reason to apprehend that amongst them some of great popular influence were desirous of carrying matters much beyond the line of modification and improvement. The whole
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kingdom was much agitated on the subject. A provincial meeting, assembled at Cork, on the 1st of March, 1783, published many strong resolutions in favour of reform; and in the north, another meeting of delegates from fortyfive volunteer corps, assembled at Lisburne, on the Ist of July following, and afterwards at Belfast, on the 19th of the same month (which afterwards corresponded with Mr. Pitt, the Duke of Richmond, and other British advocates for reform) and they addressed a letter to Lord Charlemont, then on a visit to his friend Mr. Brownlow, at Laydon, soliciting, not only his lordship’s support in favour of a reform for which he had already avowed the warmest approbation, but entreating the communication of his lordship’s sentiments at large on the subject, pointing out such a specific mode of reform, and the most eligible steps leading to it, as came up to his lordship’s ideas; and naming several specific points, requesting his lordship’s opinion, whether they were subjects upon. which the volunteers of Ireland ought to interfexe: his lordship’s opinion to be communicated to the chairman of their meeting at Dungannon, appointed for the 8th of September following; together with a sketch of such resolutions as he should sick proper to be proposed at that meeting.
In i lordship’s answer to this letter, after acknowledging the honour of their high opinion, he declined giving any opinion beyond the reform itself, upon the specific detail of subordinate points, which involved questions for the most able and minute discussion; and suggested that at the meeting, the measure alone should be recommended, without specifying any mode, leaving that entirely to the consideration of parliament.
The meeting, however, was held at Dungannon, on the appointed day; and consisted of delegates from two hundred and sixty-nine volunteer corps. Mr. Stewart, member for Tyrone, in the chair. Lord Bristol, then bishop of Derry, was also present. Many resolutions were passed; and a grand national convention was suggested to be held
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at Dublin, on the 10th of November following; to consist of five persons from each county, to be chosen by ballot, to digest a plan of parliamentary reform, and adopt such measures as appeared most likely to effect it. An address to the volunteers of Munster, Leinster, and Connaught, accompanied this resolution, Other resolutions were adopted; and particularly one for extending the elective franchise to the Roman catholics.
The convention at Dublin at length took place. The government was by no means at ease; but many of the delegates chosen were of a character and description which greatly soothed their fears; and, amongst others, Lord Charlemont and Mr. Brownley, who were chosen for Armagh; Mr. Stewart, for Tyrone; and many noblemen and gentlemen of large property and known moderation, chosen by other counties, whose hatred to anarchy had been always manifest.
This convention elected Lord Charlemont to their president’s chair; an honour which his lordship accepted, as he had done the delegation for Armagh, solely with a view to co-operate with many other delegates, the friends of order and moderation, to prevent violence. And another motive was to hinder the Bishop of Derry from being called to the chair, for which that prelate, a very eccentric and violent man, was extremely solicitous, and to which he would have been chosen, had Lord Charlemont declined. The delegates adjourned their sittings, for more room, to the rotunda in Rutland square. Their noble president led the way, escorted by a squadron of volunteer cavalry.
The assembly was extremely numerous, and in general highly respectable; but, in consequence of a mixture of some characters too ardent in natural temper and political feelings to be easily controlled by the friends of moderation, debates ran high, from day to day; and innumerable projects of reform poured in upon the committees appointed to receive them, and prepare a specific plan to be reported to the convention. At length, upon the motion of the Bishop of Derry, Mr. Flood was chosen a
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member of the superior committee, and soon attained by his imposing talents a marked ascendency. The Bishop of Derry strenuously supported the resolution for extending the elective franchise to the catholics; but Mr. Flood as strenuously, but more successfully, opposed it. Lord Charlemont and his friends, thinking the measure at that time premature, opposed it also, and it was finally rejected. Various other plans for the reform itself met a similar fate; and, finally, Mr. Flood produced one of his own, which, upon full discussion, was not deemed better than others which had been rejected.
We shall not here attempt to detail the proceedings of the convention more at length. The assembly, however, at length tired out by the multiplicity of visionary projects, all turned towards Lord Charlemont for his opinion. Averse alike to ostentation and public speaking, he had hitherto remained silent; but now declared his readiness to sacrifice the only borough he possessed to the wishes of that country, in trust for which he had always held it. In a conversation, which his lordship held apart with the Bishop of Derry, that noble and reverend prelate, in allusion to the catholic question, took the liberty of telling his lordship “that his conduct was by no means generally approved, and that he was considered as rather lukewarm in the cause of reform.” An unpleasant conversation followed, which closed with the following declaration of his lordship:
“The difference I make between the former and present objects of our exertions is this,—Whilst Ireland was in effect subject to a foreign legislature, there were no lengths to which I would not have gone to rescue her from a state which I considered as positive slavery. To that point I had pledged my life and fortune; and towards the attainment of it I would willingly and cheerfully have hazarded not only them, but what was still more dear to me, and far more important, the peace of my country. Our present object I esteem great, and of high importance; and to attain it, will do every thing not inconsistent with
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the public peace, but I will go no farther. Make what use of this you please.”
The convention had now sat three weeks, and a new parliament having met at the end of October, was sitting the while. Lord Charlemont, who sedulously attended in the duties of his presidency, had suffered much from close confinement. Mr. Flood, having carried the resolution for adopting his plan of reform, to the astonishment of Lord Charlemont and the other friends of moderation, he rose in the assembly on the afternoon of Saturday, November 29th, and proposed that he himself, accompanied by such members of parliament as were then present, should go down to the house of commons, and move leave for a bill for parliamentary reform, precisely corresponding with the plan he had submitted—”and that the convention should not adjourn till the fate of his motion was ascertained.” Here was a complete avowal of a deliberative assembly, co-existing with the parliament, and almost assuming co-extensive authority. The motion, however, was carried: Lord Charlemont and his friends saw the rashness and impropriety of such a step; but Mr. Flood’s ascendency at that time bore down all opposition. He hurried to the house of commons, and proposed his motion for adopting his plan. The aspect of the house was truly awful. Several of the minority, and all the delegates who came with Mr. Flood from the convention, were in military uniform.—A most tumultuous debate ensued, which before morning became almost a tempest; but Mr. Flood’s motion was lost upon the division, one hundred and fifty-nine against one hundred and seventy-seven, and this was followed by a declaratory determination of the house to maintain its just rights and privileges against any encroachment whatever. A vote for an address to the throne was afterwards carried, as the joint address of both houses, expressive of perfect satisfaction in his majesty’s government, and a determination to support it with their lives and fortunes,
In the mean time, the convention having sat above two
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hours without any intelligence from Mr. Flood, Lord Charlemont, suspecting what would be the fate of that gentleman’s motion, and anxious to prevent any new error, prevailed on them to adjourn till the following Monday. There was a numerous meeting on the intermediate Sunday, at Charlemont House, whereat it was agreed, that the public peace should be the first object of attention; his lordship received numerous messages from delegates of whom he had scarce any personal knowledge, that they were ready to follow him in any measure he should propose. On the Monday morning he took the chair at an early hour. A delegate rose and began to inveigh against the house of commons. His lordship instantly called the delegate to order, observing, that one of the wisest rules of parliamentary proceedings was never to take notice in one house of what was said in another. This had the desired effect, and promoted order and harmony through the day.
Lord Charlemont’s own plan at the original meeting of the convention, was to prevent all intercourse between parliament and that assembly; and that the delegates having once agreed to a plan of reform, the convention should be dissolved, and that the delegates should then lay before their respective county meetings, regularly convened, the plan agreed on, in order that: the subject should be submitted through their representatives in dutiful petitions to parliament. This was certainly the most unexceptionable mode of proceeding, but Mr. Flood’s genius prevailed against it. It was thought advisable, however, that the delegates should not separate without some plan of parliamentary reform still to be kept in view. Two resolutions were therefore passed unanimously, declaring the sense of the convention, that the delegates of counties, cities, and towns, in conjunction with the other freeholders, should forward the plan of reform agreed to by the assembly, by convening county meetings and instructing their representatives in parliament to support it; and OL t. FF
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exhorting the nation to use every constitutional effort to effect that reform so manifestly necessary.
An address to his majesty was then voted, declaring their loyalty to their sovereign, and their attachment to Great Britain was thought the most dignified reply to asperities cast on the assembly by some members in par~ liament. The address was couched in the most dutiful terms, and concluded with imploring his majesty that their humble wish to have certain manifest perversions of parliamentary representation in the kingdom, remedied by the legislature in some reasonable degree, might not be imputed to any spirit of innovation in them; but to a sober and laudable desire to uphold the constitution, to confirm the satisfaction of their fellow-subjects, and to perpetuate the cordial union of both kingdoms.
Lord Charlemont, fully aware of the evil consequence to which the longer continuance of such an assembly in the metropolis, might be liable, wisely insisted that no other business should be proceeded on, and the convention finally adjourned.
Thus terminated this memorable meeting; and happy was it for Ireland, and the empire, that Lord Charlemont and other noblemen and gentlemen of his wise and moderate principles, had sway enough to prevent the seeds of anarchy so plentifully sown by indiscreet and impetuous partisans, from coming to maturity. The dissolution of the convention excited little or no public sensation. To above three-fourths of the population, namely, the catholic body, their proceedings were viewed with jealousy, if not with disappointment and disgust; for while their plan of reform talked of extending the right of suffrage to the possession of property in every shape, and at the same “time, to perpetuate exclusion from that: suffrage to their catholic countrymen, was a strage contradiction: and thus, while they professed to erect a temple of general freedom for the people, three-fourths of that people were to be precluded from entering even the vestibule. The
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cordiality which had for some time subsisted between Lord Charlemont and Lord Northington, had considerably cooled. The introduction of John Scott (afterwards Earl of Clonmell), and John Fitzgibbon (afterwards Earl of Clare) to: power, had: alienated his lordship from the viceroy, whom, on the other hand, the convention had alienated from Lord Charlemont, who had continued his attendances at the viceroy’s levee; after the convention was dissolved; but his visits were received with such cold civility, that he now declined them: entirely. He had done the state important services in that very convention, and gratitude, rather than frowns and: coldness, was the due meed of himself and many of his friends, who acted with him, and now shared in the same wore treatment.
The coalition ministry of Mr. Fox and Lord North were soon removed from their places, and Lord Northington of course from the government of Ireland, and was succeeded by the Duke of Rutland:
Early in 1786, Lord Charlemont was elected president of the Royal Irish Academy, incorporated under the auspices of his majesty, and to which such a president was both an honour and an ornament, as well as an able and active promoter of its laudable purposes, which embraced the three compartments} of science, polite literature, and antiquities. The volunteer army—the great objects of its formation being now accomplished, began rapidly to diminish in its numbers. This circumstance was observed by Lord. Charlemont; but his solicitude and attention to them, suffered no abatement; and in this and the following year their reviews were continued, for he was aware that if he relinquished the command of:those bands, there were not wanting some who might seize on that command, for purposes not so patriotic as his own; besides that, it was more wise to suffer those corps to fade away tacitly under his calm and auspicious rule, than that they should receive an-angry and ill-timed mandate from the castle, for dispersion; which, instead of obedience, might have produced
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a recal of their old companions to join their ranks. His lordship’s military attentions were now divided between the volunteers of the metropolis, and those of the north— and the rest of his time was filled up by literary or personal intercourse with his friends. The country, with some few slight exceptions, was now quiet, and began to manifest the happy effects of its new-born liberties by rapid advances in agriculture and commerce. After the close of the session of 1787, the Duke of Rutland died, universally lamented, and his remains were attended to the sea-side, on their way to England, with the most honourable marks of sorrow and funereal respect. The Marquis of Buckingham; formerly Earl Temple, returned once more to Ireland as viceroy, and his administration for some time moved with unusual tranquillity. On the 16th July, Lord Charlemont once more reviewed the volunteers near Belfast: and at this period the flames of discord broke out in the county of Armagh, of which his lordship was governor. This feud originated in a petty quarrel between two presbyterians, in which a Roman catholic espoused one of the parties. This affray lighted up a religious war through the whole county. The protestant and presbyterian parties assumed the appellation of “Peep-o’-day Boys,”—and the catholics that of “Defenders;” and much blood was spilled. But by the benign influence of Lord Charlemont, at least a temporary peace was restored—but unfortunately, that peace was delusive; and the seeds of mutual hostility sown by this quarrel, afterwards sprung forth with mischievous luxuriance.
In the ensuing session, the most prominent topic which occupied the discussions of parliament, was the question of regency, arising from the unhappy illness of his majesty. The arduous debates which took place on this occasion in both parliaments, are now matter of history, and not necessary for detail here. It will be sufficient to notice, that the two parliaments materially differed from each other. That of England—declared its own power to provide for the temporary incompetency of the reigning
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monarch, and to appoint any regent they thought fit, with+ out being limited by any considerations of the hereditary rights of the heir apparent; but, as matter of discretion, they voted the office to his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, with restricted authority; while the parliament of Ireland asserted its own independence, and distinct. power. of appointing a regent) for Ireland, uncontrolled by the
example, or the decisions of the British parliament; they considered the right of the heir apparent. to represent his royal father during his incompetency, as paramount to all other considerations; and they voted the regency of Ireland to the Prince of Wales, with the full powers of the crown to which he was the rightful heir. \ Lord Charlemont and all his parliamentary friends joined in supporting the independence of the parliament of Ireland—and in voting the regency unrestricted to his royal highness. Their object was strongly opposed by the whole influence of the viceroy. An address was moved to his royal highness, in: the house of commons, by Mr. Grattan, and in the house of lords by Lord Charlemont—requesting him to assume the government of Ireland, with the style and title of Prince Regent, and in the name and behalf of his majesty, to exercise all regal powers during his majesty’s indisposition, and no longer; and it was carried. With this address both houses waited on the lord-lieutenant, to request its transmission to England. But his excellency refused the transmission, as inconsistent with his official oath. A, vote of censure upon this conduct of the viceroy, passed both houses; and the lords delegated two of their members, the Duke of Leinster, and Lord Charlemont; and the commons, four, Mr. John O’Neal, Mr. Connoly, Mr. William Ponsonby, and Mr. James Stewart, to wait on his royal highness with the address; and they proceeded forthwith to London. But the happy restoration of his majesty’s health, terminated all further proceedings respecting the regency in both kingdoms. The delegates, however, were received by his royal highness with the most. courteous expressions of the high sense he felt of the
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flattering marks of attachment shewn him by the parliament of Ireland. But this first attempt of the Irish parliament to exercise its new-born independence, by differing from that of England, on a point of so much importance, planted the first germ of that jealousy in the British cabinet, which determined them to watch for the first convenient opportunity of punishing the presumption of the parliament of Ireland, by extinction: and accordingly it afforded the great principle of argument on which the subsequent measure of legislative union was founded. Lord Buckingham’s resignation was a consequence naturally resulting from the vote of censure on his conduct passed by both houses of parliament, and he was succeeded in the viceroyalty by the Earl of Westmoreland, with Lord Hobart for his secretary. Lord Lifford, the chancellor, died about the same period, and made way for the promotion of Mr. John Fitzgibbon, attorney-general, — to the seals. Some of the opponents of Lord Buckingham, upon the regency question, fell back quietly into their old situations; but several of the more prominent and formidable were dismissed from their situations, and from those with their adherents was gradually formed an opposition, one of the most formidable in point of numbers, respectability, and talents, that had encountered the administration of Ireland for many years. They formed themselves into a Whig Club, adopted the blue and buff uniform, as well as the principles of the Whig Club in England. In the formation of this club, Lord Charlemont was prominently active, and also in the formation of a similar club at Belfast, where his esteemed friend: Dr. Halliday, a whig of the old constitutional school, warmly co-operated in his views. But this was a measure by no: means satisfactory to the ministerial party, some of whom scrupled not to impute to both, principles of anarchy. But such imputations were disregarded as the ebullitions of political rancour, which had been sustained from time immemorial by similar associations of talent and patriotism, acting chiefly, if not solely, to protect the purity of the
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constitution from ministerial encroachment. By the members of the new Whig Club were proposed, and maintained with firmness and eloquence, a place bill, a pension bill, a responsibility bill, a bill to prevent revenue officers from voting at elections; similar to those bills which had long been the law of England. Session after session were those bills resisted with effect by the administration and its adherents, but perseverance at length procured their adoption. Lord Charlemont attended all the arduous debates of that day, and spent more of his time in the commons than in the lords, where Lord Fitzgibbon began to rule with almost unlimited sway. A principal ground of attack on ministers in the house of commons, was the creation of fourteen new places for members of parliament, for the purpose of increasing an unconstitutional influence in that house, and conferring the honours of the peerage for money, which was expended in the purchase of seats in the lower house, for the like unconstitutional purpose. This most criminating charge was but feebly resisted by the ministerial party, who were content to vindicate themselves by recrimination on their opponents, that similar practices had taken place during Lord Northington’s administration, which some of the leading members of the present opposition had advised and supported. The fact, however, serves to shew the system of expedients by which the ministers of the day were constrained to support their influence in parliament; but while the honours of the peerage were thus carried to market, and sold to the best bidder, who would only pledge his support to ministers, it was deemed necessary to wound the feelings of a nobleman who had always proudly maintained the dignity of his own hereditary rank, the independence of his principles, and the attachment of his country. Lord Charlemont, whose ancestors, for more than a century, had held the lieutenancy of the county of Armagh, had now joined with him in that office, Lord Gosfort, and this without any previous intimation, or any motive assigned: for the first intimation
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to his lordship of the circumstance, was from a friend who had accidentally read the appointment in the Dublin Gazette. His lordship wrote immediately to the secretary of the viceroy, and gave in his resignation. This measure served to mark the feeling entertained at the castle of Lord Charlemont’s political conduct; but with his country it served to exalt still higher, the man whom ministers meant to degrade. A meeting of the freeholders of Armagh assembled, who voted to his lordship a most affectionate address, in which they marked the indignation which they felt for the indignity offered him, and this address was signed by one thousand three hundred and seventy-three of the most respectable names.
The alarming progress of the French revolution, vail; after overturning the monarchy in France, menaced the political systems of all Europe, had also its influence upon the state of Ireland, and the policy of the British government, in relation thereto. The French revolution at its outset had the approbation and good wishes of many of the most loyal men in both countries, and the proceedings of the revolutionists, and the discussions which took place in France, were read with avidity by all classes of people in Great Britain and Ireland. His majesty’s ministers foresaw that from the state of things between the revolutionists of France and the continental powers, England might ultimately be involved in a war, if not on her own account, yet in support of some of her allies: and therefore the good policy of conciliating all feelings of popular discontent at home must be obvious,on the approach of a crisis when the whole physical force of the empire might become necessary to her own security. To secure the affections of the catholic population in Ireland, forming four-fifths of the whole, was a leading object. The first germ of this policy began with a bill introduced in the British parliament by Sir John Mitford, afterwards Lord Redesdale; and another was introduced into the Irish house of commons, by Sir Hercules Langrishe, a commis-
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sioner of revenue, and seconded by Mr. Hobart, secretary to the viceroy, which proposed admitting the catholics to the profession of the law; permitting their intermarriage with protestants; removing the restrictions on their education, and the limitations on the number of their apprentices in arts and manufactures. . On the eligibility of this measure, the members of the opposition were much divided. Lord: Charlemont had all along strong prejudices against any sudden relaxation of the penal statutes;—such was the force of early habits. The bill, however, beside the support of that side of the house where it originated, had also that of many distinguished members of the opposition, and it finally passed into a law.
On the 18th February, 1792, a petition was presented from the catholics by Mr. Egan, an opposition. member, praying their restoration to the elective franchise, and it was ordered to lie on the table; but on the Monday, Mr. Latouche, an eminent banker, and a man of considerable influence and character, moved that this petition be rejected. This motion was without any previous notice to the house, but it produced a long and most interesting debate, embracing the whole subject of the catholic cause, and though this motion was carried by a majority of two hundred and eight to twenty-three, and seemingly extinguished for ever all hopes of the catholics on this ground, yet this discussion procured to them many new friends, who were before their opponents. They persevered, calmly but firmly, in their objects. They took measures to vindicate their character as a religious: sect, by solemnly abjuring the obnoxious tenets attributed to them by their enemies; and refuting the imputations cast on their religious and political principles.. And so rapid was the march of relaxation in their favour, that the very next, session of parliament was opened by the lord-lieutenant with a speech from the throne, recommending to the consideration of both houses the situation of the catholics; and a bill, granting to them the elective franchise, and many other indulgences more than they asked or expected,
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finally passed into law, much to the chagrin of many of those former opponents who had been arrayed against it under the ministerial standard, and were now obliged to support it under the like authority. Even in the house of lords, Chancellor Clare, who had been always. the opponent of concession, and though on this occasion be vehemently marked his own hostility to the measure, yet he deprecated discussion, and voted in its support. Lord Charlemont, whose prejudices were unshaken, not only voted, but entered his protest against it. The fact was, the British government felt that the conciliation of so numerous a portion of the Irish people was of more pressing importance at such a crisis, than to indulge and sanction any longer, the antipathies and prejudices of the ruling sect. And the catholics retired from the doors of parliament, under a full conviction, that they owed gratitude for this boon, more to the kindness of his majesty and the British government, than to the liberality of that parliament, who, but the year before, had rejected their humble petition with contumely and reproach.
In the following year, 1794, Lord Charlemont sustained a domestic calamity in the loss of his second son, James Caulfield, a promising youth of seventeen.
In the parliament this year, almost the only circumstance worth notice that occurred, was the introduction of a bill, by Mr. W. B. Ponsonby, on the 4th of March, to improve the representation of the people in parliament, the second reading of which he moved for the next day. This was warmly opposed by ministers, who moved an amendment for postponing the second reading to the 2nd of August. The question, however, was debated with great ability; parliamentary reform had long been the cry of the north of Ireland; Lord Charlemont himself was a warm friend to moderate reform, but he was extremely averse to the principles of reform for which the political societies of Belfast, echoed by those of Dublin, now began to clamour, namely, universal suffrage and annual parliaments. The bill introduced by Mr. Ponsonby was to effect that mea-
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sure of moderate reform which the impartial of all parties admitted to be necessary. But the government, on this occasion, opposed the measure, on the ground: that it would look like a concession to the seditious clamours then prevalent, and Mr. Grattan, who supported this bill, deprecated, with great eloquence, the system of reform proposed by the United Irishmen of Belfast and Dublin, as leading to the subversion of all liberty, property, and government. But Mr. Ponsonby’s motion was superseded by the amendment, and'some of the ministerialists, and their partisans out of doors, did not scruple to blend Lord Charlemont and his friends in common estimation with the United Irishmen, and to impute to their parliamentary speeches part of the growing sedition of the country, for no other reason than that they opposed the obnoxious measures of the government; while, on the other hand, the United Irishmen publicly declared, that the speeches and debates of the opposition, and all whom they could influence, were regarded by them with indifference: they, in fact, regarded Mr. Ponsonby’s bill merely as a temporary half-measure to privilege their own plans; and therefore they rejoiced in its failure. Happy, perhaps, would it have been for the tranquillity of Ireland, had this bill succeeded; because it would have amply satisfied all the moderate reformists, and if they did not go far enough to meet the views of others, it would at least have shewn that the government and. parliament were not decidedly opposed to’reform in all shapes, but would have given an earnest of disposition to gratify the reasonable wishes of the country, which might be farther extended in a future session, and thus even the most clamorous for total reform would have been, at least, divided but the rejection of this moderate measure strengthened: the cause of the United Irishmen, and furnished their leaders with an irrefragible argument, that they must never hence look to the government or the parliament for any further redress of political grievances, but seek it from their own numbers and revolutionary movements: An awful crisis
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was fast approaching, which was greatly accelerated by the traitorous obstinacy of government in resisting all measures of conciliation towards popular feelings. The old system of sectarious division had. long subsided, and the two great bodies of dissenters, the presbyterians and catholics, long hostile to each other from religious prejudices, were now become firm allies in political interest. The former, in the north, avowed themselves the devoted friends of total emancipation to the catholics; and the latter, in the south, east, and west, pledged themselves to unite with the former in their efforts for parliamentary reform; and never to lose sight of those two great objects so indispensable to their mutual views for the freedom and prosperity of the country. Indeed every sympton of religious antipathy had been rapidly subsiding in the country from 1782; which circumstance was viewed with alarm by the old partisans of division; and an attempt made in the north to revive the system. An opportunity was offered by the revival of an old religious quarrel, which has been before-mentioned, and which was then calmed by the influence of Charlemont. It-recommenced in a desperate cudgel fight, between some catholic peasants and weavers and some protestants and dissenters of the same class, at a funeral; and so far from being put down by the interference and authority of the magistrates, there was strong grounds to believe it was rather fomented by many of them. Numerous and desperate pitched battles were fought. The protestant party, under the assumed appellation of Peep-o’-day Boys, attacked the houses of the catholics at night, broke open their doors, destroyed their looms and little furniture, and abused their wives and daughters. The catholics armed for their defence under the name of Defenders; and, the former party being ultimately victorious, commenced this short system of expulsion to their antagonists. A placard was affixed in the night on the door of the catholic, in these words,— “To hell, or Connaught, in three days.” And, if he failed to obey this manifesto, his house was pulled down, his pro-
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perty destroyed, his looms and furniture burnt, and his family fled by the light of the flames to seek some other asylum until they could escape from the province. The unfortunate fugitives, with their half-naked wives and children, explored their way to Connaught and Munster, the catholic provinces; and, as they begged their sustenance on the journey, told their tales of woe, exciting the sympathy and resentment of their catholic brethren. This migration to the west and south, received a new construction from the protestant magistrates and gentry of those provinces, namely that the popish defenders of the north were marching to cut their throats; and immediately the houses of the catholic peasantry were searched for arms, and their pitchforks; scythes, reaping hooks, and other manual instruments of husbandry taken away, as weapons of massacre. Such a severity, wholly unprovoked by any symptom of disloyalty or tumult; and from their protestant landlords, magistrates, and neighbours, naturally produced alarm amongst those poor ignorant persons, and roused them to a fellow-feeling with the northern defenders, hundreds of whom daily attested to them the cruelties they had experienced previous to their expulsion from their native homes; and hence the source of defenderism, nightly meetings, secret oaths, plunder for arms, and seditious conspiracies, which, in succession, every where began to infest the whole country; and which were met on the other side by severe laws, domiciliary visits, military executions, and arbitrary transportations, without the semblance of law, or form: of trial, carried on at midnight, by the magistrates of ue country, aided by parties of horse and foot.
These transactions were detailed with the most aggravating comments.;
The combustibles already collected in the country from the details of the French revolution and French victories; from the proceedings of the corresponding society in England; and from the wide and gratuitous distribution of Tom Paine’s Rights of Man, to the number of some
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hundred thousands, caught fire from new, inflammatory sources. The old volunteer army had long fallen to decay. In the north, Lord Charlemont, whose voice had so long operated as a pacific charm, had now lost all influence. In the metropolis, and various parts of the country, a few detached armed companies associated under the appellation of volunteers, under the direction of some of the most democratical leaders of the old corps, and especially James Napper Tandy; who then occupied. his Sundays in manoeuvering those brigades in the fields round. the metropolis. They wore uniforms quite different from those of the king’s troops; and some of the corps adopted mottoes and emblems but too significant of the political principles of the wearers. A militia law had passed in the country; but still the petty volunteer-corps increased to such a degree that they were at length suppressed by a proclamation from the castle, and a new corps were organised under the auspices of government, under the appellation of yeomanry; furnished indeed with arms and accoutrements by the government, but clothed at their own expense; and to be paid when called on actual service. In this state of affairs, the United Irishmen continued to extend their influence, to increase their numbers, and administer their oath; while an opposite party of politicians, professing the most ardent attachment to the constitution in church and state, assembled in various parts of the country, under the denomination of Orange Lodges, bound to each other by solemn and mysterious oaths. And the mutual antipathy of both daily. increased.
During this state of things, an important increase was given to the British cabinet, from, whose consultations it was determined that some immediate measures should be taken to calm the perturbed spirits of Ireland; and it was finally resolved to send Earl Fitzwilliam as the harbinger of amity and peace. The arrival of that nobleman was hailed with general joy, as that of a minister from heaven. Mr. Grattan and Mr. Ponsonby were called to. his councils: both had been previously summoned to England, in
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order for consultation with them as to the measures which would be most likely to satisfy the wishes of their country; and on their return, and previously to the arrival of Earl Fitzwilliam, it was confidently signified, that the fatal abrogation of the remaining penal laws against the catholics, and a moderate reform in parliament, should be -adopted;—measures which would at once have silenced all clamour and calmed every discontent. Upon the first meeting, of parliament, Mr. Grattan, in his place, announced the objects of Lord Fitzwilliam’s mission; and shortly afterwards moved an address to the lord-lieutenant, and obtained from parliament, as a proof of national gratitude, a vote of three millions in support of the war against France. Several members, and especially Sir Lawrence Parsons, decidedly rejected to the precipitancy with which the house was about to pass this measure, and advised them to defer the gift until they were sure of the boon for which it was given; but his objections were treated as illiberally suspicious, and were borne down by the popularity of the new chief governor, and the implicit reliance placed in the sincerity of the British cabinet. The vote therefore passed; but before it had finally proceeded through both houses, a rumour prevailed that Earl Fitzwilliam was to be recalled, for that he had greatly exceeded his instructions in the pledges held out to the Irish parliament; and this rumour was very speedily verified by the publication of a correspondence on the subject between Ear] Fitzwilliam and Lord Carlisle; and he was actually recalled. The joy of the country was suddenly changed to astonishment and despondency. The day of his departure was a day of sorrow in the metropolis; and his progress to the water side had all the appearance of a funereal procession. Lord Camden came as his successor, with Mr. Pelham as secretary, to perform the ungracious office of refusing all the measures held out for his predecessor. He was greeted by the populace with marked indignation. Mr, Grattan now, with his friends, returned to the ranks
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of opposition, brought forward his bill for the total emancipation of the catholics. It was indignantly and decidedly resisted by Mr. Pelham, who declared. that. concession to the catholics, which had already gone to. the utmost length, consistent with safety to a protestant state, must stop somewhere; and here he would plant his foot, and resist its further progress. An arduous debate ensued, which was continued till six o’clock in the morning, and ended in the loss of the bill.
This event was a decisive specimen of total departure from the conciliatory system of which Lord Fitzwilliam came as the harbinger; it confirmed, at once, the influence of the United Irishmen over the great mass of the population; it gave new force to the machinations of the seditious; and accelerated the revolutionary burst, long apprehended from the combustibles for years in preparation. From that day forth, all the machinery of sedition was set in motion on the one hand; opposed on the other, by severe laws and arbitrary measures of coercion, which, instead of suppressing, served but to feed the flame. The government could not be blind to the volcanic symptoms perceivable on all sides; but could never come toa full discovery of the whole plot, until, by mere, accident, on .the very eve of explosion, a chief conspirator was induced to betray his associates. In consequence of which they were seized in full council, in the very heart of the metropolis, within a day or two of the intended general insurrection throughout the whole country; but although this seizure of the chiefs defeated the plan of. an immediate and general explosion, it accelerated a partial rebellion, which instantly broke out, and raged for nearly three months with incessant and sanguinary fury. A few of the chief conspirators in custody were executed; and the rest, seeing their grand scheme utterly defeated, waisted their lives by a full discovery of their whole plan, force, and preparations, to a secret committee of parliament, which, Jn point of extent, surpassed all. previous conception, and astonished. both the government and senate. The rebellion
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was still going on in various counties.. Mr/Pelham retired to England, leaving Lord Castlereagh at first as his temporary substitute; but shortly after that young nobleman avowed himself as his successor in the secretaryship to his maternal uncle, Lord Camden. The flames of civil war raged every where unabated; and, finally, Lord Camden was recalled, and a military chief governor, Lord Cornwallis, sent in his stead.. The rebel armies being at last disconcerted, Lord Cornwallis, as the best mode to stem the further effusion of blood, loyal as well as rebellious, proclaimed an amnesty and full pardon to all the rebels ~ who should within a month lay down their arms, swear allegiance, and return to their homes: This had the immediate effect of terminating the conflict; but not the private vengeance of the victorious loyalists, still smarting under their calamities and the slaughter of their friends. But Lord Cornwallis, the chief object of whose mission was the restoration of peace, and the re-establishment of law and justice, announced his determination of punishing with equal severity the aggressions of parties on all sides; and strictly denounced all emblems and ensigns of party principles, as calculated only to excite new hostilities and “perpetuate mutual vengeance.”
The French government, desirous of aiding the insurgents, had dispatched an expedition, consisting of a ship of the line and seven frigates, with a body of troops officered ina great degree by Irishmen, to effect a landing in Ireland. Of this number only seven hundred men, un~ der the command of General Humbert, landed at Killala, where, by arraying in French uniforms and arms great numbers of the rebellious peasantry, and propagating exaggerated statements of their real force, they threw the country into much alarm for about three weeks. Lord Cornwallis, however, marched against them, collecting in his way such troops as could be spared from garrisons, to the amount of fifteen thousand men; and general Humbert, and his whole force, after a short action, surrendered prisoners of war. On another part of the coast, namely,
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Rutland, inthe county of Sligo, the noted James Napper Tandy, as a French general of division, landed with a few partisans, to ascertain the probabilities of support from the population of that part of the country; but quickly -reembarked to join some of his dispersed squadrons, and was afterwards seized in neutral territory and sent prisoner to Ireland. Mr. Theobald Wolfe Tone, an Irish barrister, was found as a French officer on board another ship of the squadron taken by some of the British fleet, and sentenced to death by a court-martial in Dublin, but-destroyed himself,
During the whole rebellion the parliament continued sitting; and, on its prorogation, received the thanks of General Cornwallis in his speech from the throne.
Internal peace being now restored, the country, though smarting under the wounds of civil war, was permitted to take some repose; from which, however, it was soon roused by the alarming rumour of an intended proposition for a legislative union with England. This rumour was soon verified by the avowal of government. This excited new irritation, even amongst the warmest friends of the castle; and was attacked in limine, as a measure of the grossest ingratitude and treachery, on the part of the British cabinet. The question was discussed by anticipation in a war of pamphlets and newspapers, popular meetings, speeches, and resolutions. Lord Cornwallis actually made a summer circuit to the southward, to collect the sentiments of the country upon the subject, and stimulate the local influence of the friends of government in support of the measure. It would exceed our limits to detail the variety of pretences artfully insinuated to render the attempt palateable to the different quarters, parties, and classes in the country. The incompetence of an Irish parliament to maintain peace and contentment in the country, and the great advantage to Ireland of a perfect identification with England in all the blessings of commerce, constitution, power, and prosperity, formed the vanguard of the proposal. The consequent prosperity of
CAULFIELD. 451 agriculture, manufactures,'and commerce, came next; and while the metropolis was to be the emporium of British intercourse, every other outport was flattered with the prospect of flourishing on the decay of maritime commerce in the metropolis. The catholic body were told. that their complete emancipation, and admission to the representative franchise, which they must never hope to attain from an Irish parliament, would immediately follow the establishment of an union; while, on the other hand, the enemies of the catholics were told that an union was the only measure by which the catholics could be prevented from forcing their way into parliament, and effecting the subversion of church and state. The timid were told that union was the only resource left to terminate the struggles of hostile parties, and prevent the recurrence of civil war; and the bold and adventurous, who stickled for their independent parliament: in Ireland, as the great lottery for promotions to place, power, and influence, were told that union was the rapid road to those advantages, as it would throw open to them and their families a participation in all the blessings of patronage, over the extensive range of imperial dominion, British manufacturers with enormous capitals, tempted by the security of consolidated governments, were to,croud into Ireland, enrich the country, give employment and civilization to her increasing popu: lation, and rival their native England in commerce with the world.
Parliament at length met. The subject was mentioned in the viceroy’s speech; and, notwithstanding the general irritation excited out of doors, and the vengeful clamour of some partisans in the senate, the then youthful statesman, Lord Castlereagh, brought forward the proposition for consideration in the house of commons. His lordship, in the course-of his speech, did not confine himself to a statement of the advantages. political, commercial, and social, likely to follow to his country from an identification with England, but proceeded to argue that the fond dreams of a distinct and independent parliament, and
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kingdom, so long cherished by the patriots of 1782, as the proud triumph of their struggles, and the peaceful achievement of their volunteer army, was in fact but a mere airy delusion, a perfect anomaly in the imperial government of two distinct islands conjoined under the same crown, and containing in its own womb the embryo of perpetual conflict and ultimate separation, as was clearly proved by the result of the regency question some few years before, when the parliament of Ireland were totally at variance upon a vital question with that of England; and might on the recurrence of a similar occasion, assert its independent right of differing in the choice of the person, as well as the power to be given, to a regent representative of the crown.
The debate was arduous, and continued till ten next morning; but, upon the division which took place, the numbers were so nearly equal that the proposition was carried only by the majority of a single vote. The debate was renewed on the report of the address the next evening, and the minister was left in a minority,—one hundred and six to one hundred. Upon the first debate in the house of lords, forty-six voted for entertaining the measure, and only nineteen against it. The country triumphed in this defeat as a complete and final victory; but the triumph was but temporary. Before the next session the treasury wrought miracles, and the measure was carried. )
But, as to the accomplishment of those splendid predictions of national happiness and prosperity so speciously held out as the certain consequences of the union, the experience of the first twenty years has proved it commensurate to the popularity of the noble viscount, who had the proud honour of proposing the measure, and conducting it to success. The people of Ireland have to contemplate a strange coincidence in their national fortunes under the auspicious influence of the Stewarts. For their loyalty to the last British monarch of that name, three-fourths of them suffered near a century of confiscation,
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proscription, disfranchisement, degradation, and vassalage; while the other fourth secured to themselves the extensive monopoly of parliamentary power, office, and emolument in church and state, for their valorous attachment to the house of Brunswick. By the instrumentality of another scion of the noble, though not royal house of Stewart, after the lapse of a century, the Irish parliament itself was extinguished, for its presumptuous loyalty and attachment to an illustrious descendant of the same house of Brunswick, heir-apparent to these realms; and its memory only preserved by a remnant of one third of its number transported, like a condemned regiment, to represent the representation of Ireland in Kadina country.
We now return to Lord Charlemont, whose mind was Jong tortured with sorrow for the unhappy conflicts of his country, and whose years and ill health obliged him to continue little more than a silent spectator of the mischief he had so long and so zealously struggled to avert. Lord O Neill, Lord Mountjoy, and many of his most valued friends, had fallen in the defence of the government and constitution of their country. Parliament had been publicly thanked by the viceroy for its vigilant and successful aid in putting down the rebellion; and, what was now to be the remuneration to that parliament, and of the brave loyalists, who had shed-their blood and suffered so many calamities in defence of the state ?—why, extinction to the one; and to the other, abrogation of their rights, privileges, and independence.
On the first rumour of this measure, his lordship waited on Lord Cornwallis, and feeling it his duty, as an hereditary counsellor of the crown, stated his reasons at length for deprecating most earnestly a project, which, so far from consolidating the strength, affections, resources, and interests of both kingdoms, would directly contribute more than any other to a separation of two countries, the perpetual connection of which was one of the most ardent wishes of his heart. The viceroy politely received his counsel, and expressed his confidence that it
454 CENTLIVRE.
was founded on the best motives, but declined at that time any explication on the project, which soon became unequivocal. Lord Charlemont exulted in the first victory over the ministers in the first session, although he did not rely on it as quite decisive; but henceforward his health more rapidly declined. He was the continued victim of disease; and his valuable life, though obviously verging to its close, was occupied to the last in efforts for his country. Not quite eighteen years had now elapsed since he had triumphed in establishing the constitutional independence of his country. That independence which he had cherished in its cradle, he now feared he must shortly follow to its grave, for its existence hung, like his own, by a feeble thread. His vital powers hourly decayed. His appetite ceased; his limbs swelled; and it was evident to his friends, whose visits he received as long as his disorder would permit, that his dissolution was fast approaching. He did not live to see the completion of the measure he so much deprecated; the hand of death prevented him that anguish. On the 4th of August, 1799, he expired, at Charlemont House, Dublin, in the seventieth year of his age; and his remains were conveyed to his family vault, in the ancient cathedral of Armagh.
Thus terminated the existence of one of the best men and truest patriots that ever adorned any country; bequeathing to his posterity an illustrious example for their imitation, and to his native land the memory of his virtues" as an imperishable monument.
SUSANNAH CENTLIVRE,
A dramatic writer of great and deserved celebrity, is asserted by some of her biographers to have been born in Lincolnshire; but it being infinitely more probable, from the following circumstances, that she drew her first breath “in the Isle of Erin,” we have taken the liberty of admitting her into this work.
She was the daughter of a Mr. Freeman, a gentleman
CENTLIVRE, 455
of Holbeach, in Lincolnshire. Her father had been possessed of an estate of no inconsiderable yalue, but, being a dissenter, and having discovered a zealous attachment to the eause of the Parliament, was, at the Restoration, obliged to seek refuge in Ireland, and his estate was consequently confiscated. The mother of our poetess was daughter of Mr. Markham, a gentleman of fortune at Lyme Regis, in Norfolk, who is represented as having encountered similar misfortunes with those of Mr. Freeman, in consequence of his political principles, which were the same with those of that gentleman; and he also was obliged to quit his: native country, and seek shelter in the western isle. She'is supposed to have been born between the years 1667 and 1680; and, from: the above statement, there can be but little doubt that Ireland was the spot of her, birth. It is true, Walter Harris, in his edition of Ware, does not claim her as an Irish writer, but, that she is fully entitled to be considered as such, is as clear, as that Congreve, who is claimed by Harris, is not.
She discovered, at an early period, a propensity to poetry, and is said to have written a song before she had attained her seventh year. She was left an orphan at an early age, having had the misfortune to lose her father before she was three years old, and her mother before she had completed her twelfth year.
Having been treated with a degree of harshness, by those to whose care she was committed, after the death of her mother, she resolved, whilst very young, to quit the country, and proceed to London, to seek her fortune. The circumstances of her life, at this period, are involved in much obscurity, and the particulars which are recorded seem somewhat romantic. It is said, that she attempted her journey to the capital alone, and on foot, and, on her way thither, was met by Anthony Hammond, Esq. father of the author of the Love Elegies. This gentleman, who was then a member of the University of Cambridge, was struck with her youth and beauty, and offered to take her under his protection. Either her distress, inclination, or
456 CENTLIVRE.
inexperience, induced her to comply with his proposal, and she accompanied him to Cambridge, where, having equipped her in boy’s clothes, he introduced her to his: college intimates as a relation who was come down to see! the university, and to pass some time with him. Under this disguise, an amorous intercourse was carried on between them for some months, but, at length, being probably apprehensive that the affair would become known in the university, he persuaded her to go to London, which she agreed to, and he generously presented her with a considerable sum of money, and recommended her, by letter, toa lady in town with whom he was well acquainted, assuring her, at the same time, that he would speedily follow her; this promise appears, however, not to have been performed, yet, notwithstanding her unfavourable introduction into life, she was married, in her sixteenth year, to a nephew of Sir Stephen Fox, who did not live more than a twelvemonth after their marriage 3, but, she possessing both wit and personal attractions, soon obtained the consolation of another husband, whose name was Carrol. He was an officer in the army, and was unfortunately killed in a duel, about:a year and a half after their marriage, and she became a second time a widow. She is represented as having had a sincere attachment for Mr. Carrol, and, consequently, as having “his loss as a severe affliction.
It was at this period of her life that she presented herself before the public as a dramatic authoress, to which she was, probably, in some degree induced by the narrowness of her circumstances. Some of her earlier pieces were published under the name of Carrol. Her first attempt was a tragedy, entitled “The Perjured Husband,” which was performed at Drury Lane theatre, in 1700, and published in 4to. the same year. In 1703, she produced a comedy, called “The Beau’s Duel; or, a Soldier for the Ladies;” and “Love’s Contrivance,” which is chiefly a translation from. Molière, and the following year another comedy, entitled “The Stolen Heiress; or, the Salamanca
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Doctor outwitted”. In 1705, her comedy of “The Gamester” was acted at Lincoln’s Inn Fields, which met with considerable success, and was afterwards revived at Drury: Lane. The plot of this piece is chiefly borrowed from: a French comedy, called “Le Dissipateur.” The prologue was written by Nicholas Rowe.
Her attachment to dramatic amusements was so great, that she not only distinguished herself as a writer for the theatre, but also became a performer in it, though it is far from probable that she attained any great celebrity as an actress, as she appears never to have played at the theatres of the metropolis But in 1706, we are told she acted the part of Alexander the Great, in Lee’s tragedy of the Rival Queens, at Windsor, where the court then was, and, in this heroic character, she made so powerful an impression upon the heart of Mr. Joseph Centlivre (yeoman of the mouth) or principal cook to Queen Anne, that he soon after married her, and with him she lived happily until her decease; That this marriage was the happiest of the three, can easily be accounted for—the precarious subsistence dependant on dramatic authorship is proverbial.
The same year in which she entered into the matrimonial state with. Mr.-Centlivre, she produced the comedies of The Basset Table,” and “Love at a Venture;” the latter was acted by the Duke of Grafton’s servants, at the new theatre at Bath; and in 1708, her most celebrated performance, “The Busy Body,” was performed at Drury Lane theatre.. It met at first with so unfavourable a reception from the players, that, for a time, they even refused to act in it, and were not prevailed upon to comply, until towards the close of the season; and even then the celebrated Wilks shewed so utter a contempt for the part of Sir George Airy, as to. throw it down on the stage at the rehearsal, with a declaration, “that no audience would endure such stuff:” but the piece was received with the greatest applause by the audience, and still keeps possession of the stage... In 1711, she produced, at Drury Lane theatre, “Marplot; or, the Second: Part of the Busy
458 CENTLIVRE.
Body.” This play, though greatly inferior to the former, met with a favourable reception, and the Duke of Portland, to whom it was dedicated, made the authoress a present of forty guineas. In 1717, her admirable comedy of “A Bold Stroke for a Wife,” was performed at Lincoln’s Ing Fields. In this play she was assisted by, Mr. Mottley, who wrote a scene or two entirely. It was extremely well received, although Mr. Wilks very cavalierly declared, that “not only Mrs. Centlivre’s play would be damned, but she herself would be damned for writing it.”
The above opinions of Mr. Wilks ought to be registered in theatrical annals, as hints to those ladies and gentlemen of the sock and buskin, who decide on the merit of an author by the first ten lines they may casually glance upon, and whose judgments are formed from the opinions of the property-man or prompter at the rehearsal*.
In 1714, her excellent play of “The Wonder, a Woman keeps a Secret!” was acted at Drury Lane theatre; it was very successful, and Garrick threw a new lustre on it, by reviving it with some judicious alterations, and by his inimitable performance of Don Felix. It has been successively rendered popular by the admirable performances of Mrs. Jordan, in Violante, and Elliston, in Don Felix; and still keeps possession of the stage.
Besides the dramatic effusions which have been already mentioned, she produced several others, the titles of which are to be found in the Biographia Dramatica.
She died in Spring gardens, Charing cross, on the Ist of December, 1723, and was buried at St. Martin’s in the Fields. She possessed a considerable share of beauty, was
* Since so much has been lately said relative to theatrical management, we cannot forbear hinting, that we conceive the theatres must have been infinitely better managed in those days than at present, as almost every piece produced was successful; whereas, in the records of both houses of the present day, it would be difficult to find any thing (with the exception of pantomimes) that has kept possession of the stage; and truly has their theatric course been characterised by a parodist, who said, “The failure of to-morrow, succeeds unto the condemnation of to-night.”
CENTLIVRE. 459 of a friendly and benevolent disposition, and im conversation was sprightly and entertaining. Her literary acquisitions appear to have been merely the result of her own application, and she is supposed to have understood the French, Dutch, and Spanish languages, and to have had Some knowledge of the Latin. Mrs. Centlivre enjoyed, for many years, the intimacy and esteem of many of the most eininent wits of the time, particularly Sir Richard Steele, Farquhar, Rowe, Dr. Sewell, and Eustace Budgell. But she had the misfortune to incur the displeasure of Mr. Pope, who introduced her into the Dunciad, for having written a ballad against his Homer. In the third book are the following lines:
“Lo, next two slip-shod muses traipse along,
In lofty madness, meditating song,
With tresses staring, from poetic dreams,
And never wash’d but in Castalia’s streams:
Haywood, Centlivre, glories of their race,” &c. &c.
An extensive, acquaintance with men and manners is exhibited in her dramatic writings, and they are sometimes justly censurable for their licentiousness; but she unfortunately flourished in a period. when it was the fashion to admire vicein any shape, alluring or not. Her greatest merit is the incessant interest and bustle she has contrived to keep up throughout the whole five acts of her most popular plays: the language is spiritless, and at times ridiculous: neither is there a superabundance of wit to be found in any of her productions; but there is such a happiness of thought, in regard to plot, and so thorough a knowledge of stage effect displayed throughout the Wonder, Bold Stroke for a Wife, and Busy Body, that (with the exception of the Beaux Stratagem) it would be difficult to find an equal to either of them. Yet neither Farquhar, Centlivre, Vanbrugh, or Congreve, were the advocates of virtue; they have been characterised as writers, who, though—
—Heaven endow’d
To scourge bold Vice with Wit’s resistless rod,
Embrac’d her chains, stood forth her priests avow’d,
And scatter’d flow’rs in every path she trod.
460 CHANDLER.
Inglorious praise, though Judgment’s self admir’d,.
Those wanton strains which Virtue blush’d to hear;
While pamper’d passion from the scene retir’d,
With wilder rage to urge his fierce career.”
In 1761, her dramatic works were collected together, and printed in three volumes 12mo. and is at present.a scarce book. She was also authoress of several copies, of verses on divers subjects and occasions, and many ingenious letters, entitled, “Letters of Wit, Politics, and Morality,” which were collected and published by Mr. Boyer.
EDWARD CHANDLER.
This pious and learned prelate was the son of Samuel Chandler, Esq. of the city of Dublin, by his wife, Elizabeth (whose maiden name was Calvert), and was born in that city, but in what year has not been mentioned, and received his academical education at Emanuel college, Cambridge, where, at the early age of twenty-five, he became master of arts, was ordained priest, and made chaplain to Lloyd, Bishop of Winchester in 1693. He was made prebendary of Pipa Minor, 27th April, 1697, and was afterwards canon of Litchfield and Worcester. He was nominated to the bishopric of Litchfield on the 5th of September, 1717, and consecrated in the November following at Lambeth. From which see he was translated to that of Durham, on the 5th of November, 1730, and it was then rumoured, that he gave the sum of 9000/. for this opulent see; but this assertion was not credited. He enjoyed this bishopric for a period of about twenty years, and died on the 20th of July, 1750, at his house in Grosvenor square, of the stone, several large ones being found in his body when opened. He was buried at Farnham Royal, in the county of Bucks. During the time he was bishop of Durham, he gave 50/. towards augmenting Monkevearmouth living; also the sum of £200 to purchase a house for the minister of Stockton, and £2000 to be laid out in a purchase for the benefit of clergymen’s widows in the
CHANDLER. 461
diocese of Durham; and it is recorded greatly to his honour, that he never sold any of his patent offices. He was a prelate of great erudition, and a diligent student; and rendered himselfhighly and deservedly esteemed, as a zealous supporter of the church of England, and perse“vering investigator of truth. He was author of an 8vo. volume, which has justly merited the encomiums of the learned, and it would be difficult to mention any work, “containing altogether, so much learning and convincing argument in so small a space. It was entitled”A Defence of Christianity, from the prophecies of the Old Testament, wherein areconsidered all the objections against this kind of Proof advanced in a late Discourse on the Grounds and Reasons of the Christian Religion.— London, 1725.” It was so popular a work at the time of its publication, that it compelled Collins to produce, in 1727, a second book, particularly in answer to Chandler, who at that period held the see of Litchfield.. This was entitled “The Scheme of Literal Prophecy considered,” and was the occasion of a second reply from the learned bishop, entitled “A Vindication. of the Defence of Christianity from the Prophecies of the Old Testament;” this was published in 1728, and in this work with great copiousness and learning, he convincingly vindicates the antiquity and authority of the Book of Daniel, and the application of the prophecies contained therein to the Messiah, against the propositions and objections of Collins, and also fully refutes his arguments advanced against the antiquity and universality of the tradition, and expectation among the Jews, concerning the Messiah. His other publications were eight occasional sermons; the “Chronological Dissertation” prefixed to Arnold’s Commentary on the Book of Ecclesiasticus; and a Preface to a posthumous work of Dr. Ralph Cudworth’s, entitled “A Treatise concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality.”
462 CHERRY.
ANDREW CHERRY
AN ingenious dramatist, and amusing actor, was the eldest son of John Cherry, a respectable printer and. bookseller as Limerick, and was born in that city on the 1)th of January, 1762. He received a respectable education at a grammar school there, and was intendeded by his father to be qualified for holy orders by matriculation in a university, but arising from various disappointments and unforeseen circumstances, his parent was obliged. to abandon his intention, and at eleven years of age, the subject of the present memoir was placed under the protection of a Mr. J. Potts, a printer and bookseller, in Dame street, Dublin, and was by him initiated in his art and mystery. Froman ancient friendship which had subsisted between Mr. Potts and Mr. Cherry, Andrew was particularly favoured by his master, and made his constant companion in all his recreations. Among other rational amusements, Mr. Potts felt a peculiar attachment to theatrical exhibitions, and perceiving that a similar attachment (doubtless arising from sympathy) dwelt in the breast of his pupil, he rarely visited the temple of Thespis without being accompanied by the youthful Cherry. Thus encouraged, he imbibed ian early predilection (or rather . infatuation) for the histrionic art, and at the early age of fourteen, made his first appearance in the character of Lucius, in Addison’s Cato, in a large room, at the Blackamoor’s head, Towers street, Dublin. This passion for the stage he sedulously cultivated, aod -when he had attained his pebouedanil year, viewing hats, feathers, and Thalia’s mask, floating before his disordered imagination, he indignantly spurned typography, and fearlessly entered the dramatic list, making his début as a professional actor, at a little town called Naas, situated about fourteen miles from Dublin. Here he was surrounded by a small group of miserable strollers, principally composed of runaway boys and girls (all highly-gifted no
CHERRY. 4638 doubt) who were then under the management of a Mr. Martin.
The first character our hero exhibited himself before his new audience in, was Colonel Feignwell, in Mrs. Centlivre’s comedy of “A Bold Stroke for a Wife,” somewhat an arduous undertaking for a boy of seventeen, as it is but rare that even the veterans of the stage are possessed of a variety of talent sufficient to represent this difficult character. The applause, however, was great, and the manager of this sharing company, after passing many encomiums on his exertions, presented him with 104d. as his dividend of the profits on that night’s performance.
Young Cherry afterwards launched into a most extensive range of character, for being blest “‘ with a peculiar facility of study,” (de. aggood memory,) in the space of ten months, he performed almost all the principal characters in tragedy, comedy, and farce; and during the same periods underwent all the vicissitude and distress, that usually attend those hapless individuals, who are dependant on so precarious a mode of existence. The friends of Cherry have heard him declare, that although constantly employed in the laborious study, that his range of character must necessarily bring upon him, he never was in possession of a single guinea, during the whole ten months. He was frequently without the means of common sustenance, and sometimes even unable to buy the very candles by which he should study the characters that were so numerously allotted to him—circumstances the whole of which are highly probable.
In the town of Athlone, we are told, a circumstance of particular distress attended our hero; but which he bore with all the magnanimity that dramatic ardour could inspire. The business of the theatre was suspended for a short time, in consequence of the benefits having turned out badly: the manager was resolved not to waste any more bills, but wait for the races, which were to commence in
afew days. Our hero being of a timid and bashful turn, and assisted by a portion of youthful pride, was incapable
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of making those advances, and playing off. that train. of theatrical tricks, by which means benefits are frequently obtained in the country, and therefore he had been less successful than many of his brethren. His landlady, perceiving there was no prospect of payment, satisfied herself for the trifle already due, by seizing on the remnant, of our hero’s wardrobe; and knowing she could dispose-of her lodgings to more advantage during the races, turned him out to the mercy of the winter’s ial which. he .endured with all his former philosophy. He rambled carelessly about the streets, sometimes quoting passages to himself, both comic and serious, that were analogous .to his situation, but without forming one determined idea of where he was to rest his houseless head. Towards the close of the evening he strolled by accident into the low yer part of the theatre, which had formerly been an inn, and was then occupied by a person whose husband had been a serjeant of dragoons, for the purpose of retailing refreshments, &c. to those who visited the theatre. After chatting until it grew late, the woman hinted to our hero that she wished to go to bed, and begged he might retire; upon which he replied, in the words of Don John, “I was just thinking of going home, but that I have no lodging. ” The good woman, taking the words literally, inquired into the cause, with which he acquainted her without disguise. Being the mother of a family, she felt severely for his distressed situation: at that time he did not possess a single halfpenny in the world, nor the means of obtaining one. The poor creature shed tears of regret that she could not effectually alleviate his misfortune. He endeavoured to assume a careless gaiety; but the woman’s unaffected sorrow brought the reflection of his own disobedience to his mind, and he dropped tears in plenteous libation: in his grief he saw the sorrow of his parents, whom he had deserted, to follow what he began to perceive a mad career, in despite of the many unanswered remonstrances he had received, with a fair promise of forgiveness and affection, should he return to his business. This philan
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thropic female lamented that she could not furnish him with a bed, but offered to lend him her husband’s cloke, and to procure a bundle of dry hay, that he might sleep in an empty room in her house. His heart was too full to pay his gratitude in words; his eyes thanked her; he wept bitterly, accepted her kind offer, and retired to rest. The intruding any further on her kindness was painful to him, as she was struggling to maintain a numerous offspring. He therefore carefully avoided the house at meal‘times, and wandered through the fields or streets, until he supposed their repasts were finished: at last, so overcome by fasting and fatigue, that he could not rest, he rose from his trooper’s cloke in the dead of the night, and explored the kitchen, searching the dresser and all its shelves and drawers, in hopes of finding something that might satisfy the cravings of his appetite, but in vain. On his return to his hay-truss, he accidentally struck against the kitchen table, the noise of which he feared etisires alarm the family; and, uncertain of the real cause of his leaving his apartment at that hour, they might naturally suppose that his purpose was to rob the house, as a reward for their hospitality: the idea added to the misery he then suffered; he trembled, he listened, but all was quiet; and then renewed his search (for his hunger overcame his fears), and to his gratification he found a large crust of stale bread, which he was afterwards informed had been used for rubbing out some spots of white paint from the very cloke that composed his bedding; he, however, ate it with avidity, as he was entering on the fourth day without the least refreshment, and returned heartfelt thanks to Providence, whose omnipotent hand was stretched in the very critical moment, to save him from the most direful of all possible deaths,—starving! .
At length, after enduring, in all probability, not more than the usual and every-day hardships attendant on the life of a strolling player, he quitted the stage, and even now “returned to reason and the shop,” remaining at home for upwards of three years. The “strutting and
466 CHERRY.
fretting” profession, was, however, too firmly seated: in his mind and heart, to beso suddenly got rid of. He forgot entirely the misery he had so lately suffered, quitted his home, and after making some excursions of little moment, enlisted himself under the banners of a Mr. R. W. Knipe, a well-known dramatic veteran, “a scholar and/a gentleman.” In his company (we are told) Cherry enjoyed much comfort and satisfaction, and remained attached to it till Mr. Knipe’s decease. He then joined the principal provincial company of Ireland under the management of Mr. Atkins, where he performed a most extensive round of characters, and was for many years the popular. favorite of the north of Ireland, during which period he married the daughter of his old friend and seh inc ne, Knipe, by whom he had a large family. «In, 1787, Mr. Ryder having been engaged at etna Garden theatre, Cherry whose provincial repute had reached the capital, quitted the audiences of Belfast, to supply his place at the theatre in Smock alley, Dublin, where, for six years, he stood at the top of his ariaiactons in the comic line.: PHS
Having long entertained a desire of vishoe the sister country, he engaged.Mrs..Cherry.and himself to the celebrated Tate Wilkinsbn, at the period when Mr. Fawcett entered into articles with the managers of Covent Garden, whose situation he filled at the theatres of York, Hull, &c. for three years, when he again returned to his native country, 1
He continued two seasons in Ireland; after which the irregular payments of the manager, and other disgusting circumstances, induced him to return to England, and he accepted an engagement with Messrs. Ward and Banks, managers of the Manchester theatres where, with his wife, he successfully performed two years. From thence he went to Bath, where for four seasons he any opti ap ample share, of public favour.
On the abdication of the late Mr. King, Mr. ibekers was engaged at Drury Lane theatre, where he made his
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appearance on the 25th of September, 1802, in the characters of Sir Benjamin Dove” in the “Brothers,” and “Lazarillo,” im “Two Strings to your Bow,” and. was received with great applause. He afterwards became manager of the Swansea and Monmouth theatres, and died at the latter place, of dropsy on the brain, on the 12th of February; 1812.
Such was Andrew Cherry, a man who underwent every variety of disappointment and misery, for the pleasure of being conspicuous: his life, though little else but a record of folly, however, will not be utterly useless to mankind, if but ove of those countless individuals,—the would-be Richard’s and Hamlet’s,. pause ere they sacrifice the sunniesthours of their lives, making a compact with the
“juggling fiend, that keeps the word of promise to their ear, and breaks it to their hope.”
As an author, Cherry is fully deserving of the epithet, ingenious, as he contrived to produce a comedy (The Soldier’s Daughter) which ran for thirty-seven nights, at a time when the public taste was not very degraded.
He wrote altogether ten-dramatic pieces, the titles of which are to be found in the Biographia Dramatica.
ARTHUR CHICHESTER,
EARL of DONEGAL, was the eldest son of Edward, Viscount; Chichester, and: was born. on the 16th January, 1606. In 1627 he succeeded Lord Valentia in his troop of horse, and after the decease of his father, was appointed governor of Carrickfergus for life. At this place he resided when the first tidings of the rebellion were brought to him, on: Saturday, 23rd October, 1641, about ten o’clock at night. He immediately by fires and alarm-drums raised the country, and distributing the arms and ammunition among those who came to Carrickfergus, he left the castle under the care of Captain Roger Lyndon, and marched with about three hundred horse and foot to Belfast, where he received a reinforcement. On the 27th he joined the
468. CHICHESTER.
Lord Montgomery, at Lisburne, and. soon after he was appointed, in commission with Sir Arthur Tyringham, to the chief command of the county of Antrim. He immediately endeavoured to put the towns in a state of defeuce, and to take the best methods in his power for the suppres= sion of the rebellion, in which he was farther assisted by a. commission from the king, and a grant for the fortifications of Belfast. But when, by the defection of the army in the north, he could no longer maintain his command, he retired to Dublin, where he was sworn a member of the privy council, and, in January 1645, entered into a resolution, with the rest.of the officers of the Marquis of Ormond’s regiment, not to take the covenant imposed upon them by the English parliament, but to preserve their allegiance to his majesty, and obey the orders of the lord-lieutenant. His fidelity to his prince, affection to his country, and activity against the rebels, were indeed so conspicuous, that. the tind naeamants in a letter to the king, dated 19th January, 1645, writes thus:
“You have been graciously pleased of late to reward some, that have either served your majesty actually, or suffered for you eminently in their persons or fortunes, with new creations, or with additions of honour in this kingdom, That Colonel Arthur Chichester hath missed such a mark of your majesty’s favour, I conceive to have been through his own modesty, and my not representing his personal merit. If he outlives his father, he will be in among the foremost of the viscounts of this kingdom in place, and ¢1 am sure) beyond. them all, except one, sn fortune, though he be for the present deprived of the latter for his faithfulness to your majesty’s crown, the same means whereby his uncle got both it and his honour. He hath served your majesty against the Irish rebellion since the beginning of it; and when, through an almost general defection of the northern army, he was no longer able to serve your majesty there, he came with much hazard to take his share in the sufferings of your servants here, and with them to. attend for that happy time, that
CLANCY. 469
(we trust) will put us in a condition to contribute more to your service than our prayers. If your majesty shall think fit to advance this gentleman to an earldom, I conceive that of Dannegall, a county in the province of Ulster, wherein he should have a good inheritance, is fittest, which I humbly offer to your majesty’s consideration, as a part of the duty of
Your majesty’s, &c.
4 pest phi
~ In consequence of this representation, he was created, in 1646, Earl of Donegal; and in the following year he was one of the four hostages sent by the Marquis of Ormond to the English parliament, as surety for his performance of the articles between them, for the surrender of Dublin, and the other garrisons, to their commissioners. Soon after the Restoration he was appointed custos rotulorum of the counties of Antrim and Donegal, and also restored to the government of Carrickfergus. In 1668, he founded a lectureship on mathematics in the university of Dublin. He died at Belfast, on the 18th March, 1674, and was buried at Carrickfergus.
MICHAEL CLANCY, M.D.
THIS gentleman was the son of a military man, of an ancient and once powerful family in the county of Clare; and appears to have been born towards the latter end of the seventeenth, or the commencement of the eighteenth century. When he had attained his eighth year he was placed at one of the first colleges in France, where he remained until the famous James, Duke of Ormonde, fled from England and went to St. Germains. On that occasion, he, with two of his companions, seizing an opportunity, quitted the college, for the purpose of seeing an individual who had rendered himself celebrated all over Europe; which having accomplished, he was, either through fear or shame, deterred from returning to his pre-
470 CLANCY.
ceptor. He accordingly resolved on proceeding to his native country; for which purpose he took a place.in the boat for Harfleur in Normandy, and shortly after arriving at Havre de Grace, obtained a passage to Dublin,
Being perfectly ignorant of who is relations were, or at what place they resided, but remembering to have heard that he sprung from a family on the borders of the county of Clare, he resolutely determined to proceed into that part of the kingdom; accordingly he commenced his excursion, making the best of his way through Kilkenny, where he luckily met with a “good Samaritan,” who took compassion on his helpless state, and feeling an inclination to pay back to the son some obligations conferred on him by the father, eagerly embraced the opportunity that now presented itself, and supported him, and placed him ina free school belonging to that town. Here he continued for three years, when the misfortunes of his benefactor deprived him of the assistance he had derived from that quarter; fortunately for him, however, it was his destiny in losing one benefactor to procure another, as, about this period, an unforeseen event brought him to the knowledge of his relations, by whom he was'sent to Trinity College, Dublin, and became a pupil of Dr. James King.
At the university he remained nearly four years, at the end of which period, perceiving no prospect of advancement, and being of a “lively disposition,” and feeling an inclination to “see a little of the world,” he once more left his native country for France, setting sail on board a ship bound for Rochelle, on the 25th of July, 1724. In three days time the vessel gained sight of L’Isle Dieu on the coast of Britanny; but, on the fourth, a violent storm arose, which. drove it towards the coast of Spain, where it was stranded on the shore about a mile’s distance from the town of St. Sebastian, in Biscay. From this place he obtained a passage to Rochelle, and from thence to Bordeaux, where he intended to commence the study of physic. .He afterwards. obtained the degree of doctor at Rheims. At what time he returned to Ireland is unknown,
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But he was there in 1737, when he was deprived of his sight by an accidental cold. This deprivation rendering him incapable of his profession, he amused hitself with writing .his comedy, called “The Sharper,” which was acted five times at Smock alley, and obtained him the notice of Dean Swift.
From this period his life partook of all thei inconveniences that usually result from confined circumstances, and an inability to procure the means of. subsistence by a profession. He, however, obtained from the late king a pension of forty pounds a-year during his life; and, in the year 1746, procured a sum of money by performing a part he was so well qualified for by nature, namely, Tiressias the blind prophet, in “Oedipus.” This performance was for his own benefit at Drury Lane theatre. He after: wards was settled at the Latin school at Kilkenny. The time of his death we are wholly unacquainted with, He is the author of a Latin Poem, called “Templum Veneris, sive Amorum Rhapsodiæ;” and of three dramatic pieces, whose titles are, 1. “Tamar, Prince of Nubia,” T. 1739; 2. “Hermon, Prince of Chorwa,” T. 1740; 3. “The Sharper,” c. 1750:
BENJAMIN CLARE
WAS a man of extraordinary talent, but neglected to improve it by due application (by no means an extraordinary case). He was held, however, in great estimation, and, we are told, “he most justly deserved the name of a fine artist.” He was a man possessed of a benevolent heart, was born in Dublin, in 1771, and died, greatly lamented, in that city, in 1810.
DR. ROBERT CLAYTON, AN eminent scholar, and a prelate of the church of Ires Jand, was born at Dublin, in 1695. His father, Dr. Clayton, was minister of St, Michael’s, Dublin, and dean of
472 CLAYTON,
Kildare. The family was descended from the Claytons; of Fulwood, in Lancashire, whose estate came to Dr, Clayton by inheritance. The son was, at an-early age, put to Westminster school, under the tuition of Zachary Pearce, afterwards Bishop of Rochester. The kindness and fidelity of the teacher, and the gratitude and applicas tion of the pupil, cemented between them a warm and laste ing friendship. From Westminster he was removed to Trinity College, where he made honourable progress, and, in due time, was elected fellow; .and afterwards made the tour of France and Italy. In 1729, he was D. D. and besides this literary title, he became F.S.A. and F.R S, of London. In 1728, he came into possession of .an affluent estate, in consequence of his father’s death, when he laid down his fellowship without any beneficiary commutation, and married Catharine, daughter of Lord Chief Baron Donellan, and had the generosity and indepen dence to give her fortune, which was but inconsiderable, to hersister. He shewed an equal degree of noble kindness to his own three sisters, and gave each double what had been bequeathed them by his father’s will.
Soon after his marriage, he went with his lady to London, where a person in distressed circumstances applied to him for assistance, with a testimony of Dr. Samuel Clarke, for a recommendation; upon which, instead of a small donation, as usual upon such donations, he gave no less than £300 which was the whole sum which the unforstunate man said was necessary to make him easy in the world. This circumstance made him acquainted with Dr. Clarke, and the result of their intercourse was, that Dr. Clayton was led to embrace Arian principles, to which he adhered through life. Dr. Clarke having informed Queen Caroline of the remarkable beneficence of Dr. Clayton, it made a strong impression on her Majesty’s mind in his favour; which impression was strongly enforced by Mrs. Clayton, afterwards Lady Sandon, then in attendance in her Majesty’s service, as: bed-chamber woman. Such powerful interest procured a recommendation to Lord
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Carteret, then *lord-lieutenant of Ireland, for the very first bishopric which should become vacant, and he was accordingly appointed bishop of Killala, January 1729-30. Over this see he presided till 1735, when he became bishop of Cork, which office he held till his translation to the see of Clogher, in 1745. This was his last and greatest ecclesiastical preferment. Dr. Clayton filled his important rank in society in a dignified and respectable manner, but was not known to the world as a literary character, till he published an”Introduction to the History of the Jews,” which was at first attributed to another pen. Soon after appeared an elaborate work, which excited the attention of the learned, “The Chronology of the Hebrew Bible vindicated; the Facts compared with other ancient Histories, and the Difficulties explained, from the Flood to the Death of Moses; together with some Conjectures in relation to Egypt, during that Period of Time; also two Maps, in which: are attempted to be: settled the Journey of the Children of Israel,” 1747, 4to. Continuing his Biblical studies, his lordship published, in 1749, a “Dissertation on Prophecy,” in which he endeavoured to shew, from a joint comparison of the prophecies of Daniel and the revelations of St. John, that the final end of the dispersion of the Jews will be coincident with the ruin of Popedom, and take place about 2000, A.D. After this followed An impartial Enquiry into the Time of the Coming of the Messiah,” in two letters to an eminent Jew, printed first separately and then together, in 1751. It has already been stated, that his lordship had imbibed the Arian doctrines, in opposition to the standards of the Church, and, in furtherance of the views he had adopted, he now gave to the world a work which excited considerable controversy. It was entitled, an “Essay on the Spirit;” and the object of it was to prove the inferiority of the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and to prepare the way for an alteration of the Liturgy of the Church. To this work he prefixed a dedication, with his name, to the primate of Ireland; and it had the effect of fixing on him
474 CLAYTON.
the stain of heresy, and preventing his rising farther in the church, After all, the work was not written by the bishop himself, but. by a young clergyman of his diocese, who shewed the manuscript to his lordship, but had. Not the courage to print it. The bishop conveyed it to the press, and so managed the affair, that he alone sustained the whole brunt of. the opponents. There was a considerable degree of romantic generosity in this conduct, but little of worldly prudence. In 1752, he was recommended by the Duke of Dorset, the viceroy of Ireland, to the vacant. archbishopric of Tuam, but was refused the promotion. simply from his being reputed the author of this essay*. The next work the bishop: sent to the press was un= doubtedly his own composition, “‘ A Vindication of the Histories of the Old and New Testament; in Answer to. the Objections: of the late Lord Bolingbroke;” in two letters to. a young nobleman, 1752, 8vo. It is a work of great learning and ability, which discovers great acuteness of criticism and industry in his lordship, and in it the objections of Bolingbroke are ably exposed and confuted. There are, however, in it some physical principles laid down, which are more fanciful than solid. This is more particularly the case with the second part, which
* The controversy to which the “Essay on Spirit” gave rise, continued but a short time, The best answers to the work were, “A Full Answer, &c.” 1753, 8vo. by the late Rev. William Jones, the friend and biographer of Bishop Horne; and “A Vindication of the Doctrine of the Trinity,” in three parts, with an Appendix, by the Rev. Dr. Randolph, father to the late Bishop of London. Dr. Keppis expresses his opinion that the “Essay on Spirit,” and the tracts in defence of it, were the means of diffusing the Arian sentiments, which, however, he adds, “are at present upon the decline, the Unitarians tending fast to the doctrines of Socinus.” On the “Essay on Spirit, Dr. Warburton says, in a letter to Dr. Hurd, “The Bishop of Clogher, or some such heathenish name, in Ireland, has just published a book. It is made up out of the rubbish of the heresies; of a much ranker cast than common Arianism. Jesus Christ is Michael, and the Holy Ghost, Gabriel, &c, This might be heresy in an English bishop, but in an Irish, ’tis only a blunder. But thank God, our bishops are far from making or vending heresies; though for the good of the church, they have excellent eyes at spying it out wherever it skulks or lies hid.”
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appeared in 1754, in which he attempts to give an account of the formation of the earth, and of the deluge.
In 1753, he published “A Journal from. Grand. Cairo to Mount Sinai, and back again. Translated from a Manuscript, written by the Prefetto of Egypt; in company with the Missionaries de Propaganda Fide, at Grand Cairo. “To which are added, some Remarks on the Origin of Hieroglyphics, and the Mythology of the ancient Heathens,” London, 4to: and 8vo. This work was dedicated to the Society of Antiquaries. The bishop having become possessed of the original journal from Grand Cairo to Mount Sinai, and which had been mentioned by Dr. Pococke in his Travels through the East, offered this translation of it to the antiquaries, with a view of exciting their attention to characters cut out in the rocks in the wilderness of Sinai, at a place well known by the name of Gebel el Mokatah,or the Written Mountains. The bishop was in great hopes, that, if they could-have been copied and transmitted to England, the meaning of them might perhaps have been by some means or other got at; and, as it was supposed they were cut-out by the Israelites during the long leisure of their encampment in the Wilderness, it was supposed that much curious: and. interesting information might have been obtained, and confirming the truth of the Mosaic history. The prefetto of Egypt had with him persons acquainted with Arabic, Greek, Hebrew, Syriac, Coptic, Latin, Armenian, Turkish, English, Illyrian, German, and Bohemian languages; yet none of them had any knowledge of the characters, which were cut in the rock twelve or fourteen feet high with great industry. The bishop was anxious a person might be sent out qualified to copy them, and offered himself to contribute £100 per annum for five years, to. assist in defraying the expense. It does not appear that any steps were taken by the Society of Antiquaries in consequence; and probably the result would have been less satisfactory than supposed. The celebrated Mr. Edward Wortley Montagu, who went from Cairo to the desert of Sinai, for the express
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purpose of seeing and describing the objects proposed by the bishop, was greatly disappointed, and convinced that the characters were not made by the Israelites. Other travellers, who have been at the same place since, have not been more successful. .
The bishop’s next publication was in 1755; and consisted merely of some letters which had passed between his lordship, when Bishop of Cork, and Mr. William Penn; on the subject of baptism. In which he contended, that the true christian baptism is to continue to the end of the world; whereas the baptism of the Holy Ghost ceased with the working of miracles.
The zeal with which his lordship had entered into the Arian controversy, by fathering a work not his own, did not cease to influence his mind; and he attempted to further the propagation of the same tenets in his legislative capacity, by a speech in the house of lords, at Dublin, 2nd of February, 1756, when he moved that the Nicene and Athanasian creeds should for the future be omitted in the Liturgy of the church of Ireland. The speech he delivered en that occasion was taken down in short-hand; and, being published, went through several editions. This so avowed and declared an attack on the articles of the church, made his lordship be viewed in a very unfavourable light by his brethren, and this feeling towards him was aggravated still more by his posterior conduct. In: 1757 he published the third part of his “Vindication of the Histories of the Old and New Testament,” in which he wandered so far into heterodoxy, that it was considered by the governors of the church as highly improper that such conduct should be allowed in one whose situation required him: to appear in her defence. Accordingly orders were sent by his Majesty to the Duke of Bedford, then lord lieutenant, to take the proper steps towards a legal prosecution. A day was appointed for a general meeting of. the Irish prelates at the primate; to which Bishop Clayton was summoned, that he might receive from them the notification of their intentions. A censure was certain;
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and it was apprehended he would be deprived of his benefice. His lordship however, and the other. bishops and ministers, were relieved from all further trouble. in-so. unpleasant, an affair by the hand of death, Feb. 26, 1758. The disease was nervous fever, and the agitation of mind: under which he was thrown when a prosecution commenced against him, proved the cause of his death. When informed of the prosecution, he consulted an eminent lawyer on the subject, and asked him if he supposed he should lose his bishopric. The answer was, “My lord, I believe you will.” “Sir,” he replied, “you have given me a stroke I shall never get the better of.” It has been asserted, that, after the bishop had delivered his speech in the house of lords, he said “That his mind was eased of a load which had long been upon it, and that he now enjoyed a heartfelt pleasure, to which he had been a stranger for above twenty years before.” This story, if true, and his lordship’s future conduct, are decidedly inconsistent; and, indeed, it is, impossible to view in a favourable light the behaviour of the bishop and his precedent conduct. If he had been truly conscientious in the zeal he had shewn for the tenets which he had em-~ braced, it ill became him to shrink from the consequences of.avowing them.. The pecuniary loss of the revenues of his bishopric for the few remaining years in which he hadany probability of living, ought not to have weighed much. in apy circumstances; and surely none at all with one who was possessed of so ample a private fortune. And to suffer for conscience sake, toa man thoroughly sincere in the principles he professes, ought to be viewed as his glory and his crown. Without, therefore, entering at all into.the merits of the doctrines he advanced, we shall only remark, that the man who launches out into the storms of religious controversy, ought to be prepared to meet the buffettings, of the waves; he must expect the warm attacks of his opponents, and particularly so, if the tenets he advances be in opposition to those to which he has sworn his belief; and miserable must. be his feelings if he is not.
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prepared to withstand such: hostility, and to derive: consolation from the approbation of his friends, and the still more important judgment of his own conscience.
We turn with pleasure to the amiable qualities manifested by the bishop in private life. The objects of his charity were numerous, and he bestowed his benefactions with such privacy, that it might be truly said his “left hand knew not what his right hand gave.” Being a member of the linen board, he availed himself of the means of doing good presented to him, and by getting wheels and reels for the poor about Clogher, he put it into their power to maintain themselves by the exertion of honourable labour.
The bishop left behind his many manuscripts, the fruits of his literary industry, but not in a state fit for the press. As a member of the learned societies to which he belonged, he maintained a correspondence with men of the first eminence for literature and science. To the learned printer, Mr. Bowyer, he made a present of the copyright of all his works published in England. His Lancashire estate he bequeathed to his nearest relation, Richard Clayton, Esq. chief justice of the common pleas in Ireland; but the principal part of his fortune fell to Dr. Barnard, who had married his niece.
Mrs. CLEAVER
WIFE of the Archbishop of Dublin, born at —— in Ireland, and descended from one of its ancient and most honourable families. This lady stands so high in the records of excellence, that it may truly be said, “When the eye saw her, it blessed her;” when the ear heard of her, it was in the chorus of praise and admiration: in her was united all the warmth and liberality of the Irish, with the solidity, energy, and fortitude of the English character. Munificent in her donations, yet her benevolence was as extensive as her generosity was unbounded; unostentatious in her charities,“as in all her actions, she concealed
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themas much as:possible from the public eye. She seemed indeed to live but for the welfare of -others; her every pursuit was subservient to that exalted sense of duty which was the ruling principle of her mind and the great stimulus of all her actions. The benevolence and virtues of her heart appeared in her countenance, and gave an inexpressible charm to her manners:and conversation. No one retired from her society without having been pleased; and very few without improvement. With an intuitive perception of all that was. elegant or graceful in language, and dignified in conduct, she united intellectual endowments which would have rendered her conspicuous in any sphere of life, had she pursued the paths of literature; but the duties of daughter, mother, the wife, and the friend, engrossed her attention. She was always actively engaged to promote happiness at home, and diffusing it in the wide circle of her connections. She poured consolation: into the bosom of distress, bound up the broken heart;”visited the fatherless and widow in their affliction;” “gave to the poor bread;” to the sick medicine; and to the ignorant instruction. .Such was the being whose decease we have to record and lament, on the 1st of May, 1815. She had retired to rest the preceding evening, and not having risen at her usual time in the morning, the family became alarmed, and on entering her chamber, found her dead, apparently as if recently engaged in prayer.
MICHAEL CLERI, or, CLEIRIGH. Tuts historian and antiquary was a native of the province of Ulster, a friar of the Franciscan order; and being well skilled in the language and antiquities of his country, was one of the envoys sent into Ireland from Louvain, by Hugh Ward, to collect the materials for his work relative to the Irish Saints. This task he performed with indefatigable industry for about fifteen years, and collected together. a mass of information, both genealogical and biographical, and which proved invaluable (as has been
480 CLOSE.
recorded) to John Colgan, the author of the “Acta Sanctorum Hiberniæ.”
The task assigned him by Hugh Ward, afforded him an opportunity of procuring many other materials, regarding both the civil and ecclesiastical history of his country, which he digested into method and order; and with the aid of several skilful antiquarians, whom he employed to assist him, he not only compiled, but enlarged three historical treatises, the titles of which are to be found in Ware. By the assistance likewise of the aforesaid antiquaries (who were Ferfessius O’Melchonaire, or Coury, Peregrine O’Clery, and Peregrine O’Dubgennan) and receiving occasionally the assistance of others, he compiled and composed a treatise in a convent in Donegal, entitled, “The Annals of Donegal.” A work which O’Flaherty, in his Ogygia, taxes with great defects in point of chronology; yet (adds Ware) it is chiefly depended on, and closely followed by John Lynch and John Colgan.
Cleri also arranged and published a dictionary and glossary of the most difficult and obsolete words in the Irish language, under the title of “Senasan Nuadh, Louvain, 1643,” and died in the course of the same year.
Sir BARRY CLOSE, Bart.
Was a native of Ireland, and an officer to whose eminent talents and strict sense of public duty, the East India Company are deeply indebted. At an early age he embarked in the service of the company in a military capacity, and in every situation to which he was progressively advanced, was justly pointed out as a model for imitation, For many years he was adjutant-general of the army attached to fort St. George, in which capacity he exhibited talents of so superior and scientific a cast, and acquired so. high a military reputation, as to introduce him to the friendship and confidence of General Harris. This valuable connection afforded him many opportunities during the memorable siege of Seringapatam, of distinguishing
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himself in such.a manner as to obtain much of the glory “which accrued to the British arms from that brilliant achievement. When peace was restored. to that country by the overthrow of the house of Hyder, and the xominal ~-re-establishment of the hereditary rajah on the throne of Mysore, the Marquess Wellesley entrusted to him the important office of resident at that court, in which and in other diplomatic employments, he exhibited political talent, not inferior to his military abilities. . His conciliatory manners and firmness of mind, joined to a complete knowledge of the language, manners, and history, of the; natives, rendered him as popular among them, as among his countrymen. On his return to England, he was elevated to the dignity of a baronet; and died in April 1813, ynfortunately for that country, which he had served with a “warmth of public spirit almost unequalled during a i yom of forty-two years.
MARMADUKE COGHILL
Was born in Dublin, on the 28th December, 1673, and was admitted a fellow commoner of Trinity college in 1687; here. he took his degree of doctor of civil law, and was chosen one of its representatives in parliament, which markof respect and esteem his constituents conferred on him till the time of his decease. After filling several important offices, he was appointed chancellor of the Irish exchequer, in 1735, which situation he held with great repute during the rest of his life. He-died of that fatal disorder, the gout in the stomach, in 1738, and was interred in St. Andrew’s church-yard. In public life he was a man of unwearied diligence and clear judgment, an equally, upright counsellor of the crown, and independent representative of the people. As one of the first commissioners of the board of first fruits, he may be said to have organised that body, and to have been the prime cause of all the benefits which arise to the established church in Ireland from his exertions. In private life he was univers-
482 COLE.
sally beloved for his benevolence, affability, and sweetness. of temper. His sister, Mary Coghill, erected the church of Drumcondra, near Dublin, as a monument of respect and affection to his memory, and ornamented it with a tomb, sculptured by Scheemaker.
Sir JOHN COLE
Was descended from the ancient family of the Coles of Devonshire, and was the second son of Sir William Cole, who was the first of the family settled in Ireland.
The year of Sir John’s birth has not been recorded. During the unhappy dissensions, he was very active under his father, particularly in the relief of Enniskillen, which having been besieged nine weeks by fifteen hundred men, under Philip M’Hugh O’Reily, they were surprised in a sally by Walter Johnson, an officer under Sir William, who being seconded by Sir John, with his foot-company, and some volunteers, they raised the siege, and led the pursuit of the enemy for seven miles, as far as Maguire % bridge.
After the reduction of Ireland by the parliament, he was appointed, with others, on the 21st November, 1653, commissioners for the precinct of Belturbet, to consider how the titles of the Irish and others to an estate in Ireland, and also their delinquency according to their respective qualifications, might be put into the most speedy and exact way of adjustment.
On the 27th of February following, he had the pay of £18. 4s. allowed him by the month, as governor of Enniskillin, and being very instrumental in promoting the restoration of King Charles Il. his majesty by privy seal, dated at Whitehall, 4th August, and by patent, 23rd January, 1660, created him a baronet, in consideration of his very many good services performed to him; and on the 13th of December gave him a colonel’s commission in a regiment of foot, to which he was appointed on the 22nd of March following; having on the 19th been constituted
COLGAN. 483 one of the commissioners for the settlement of the king= dom, for which purpose he had a grant of lands.
He was member of parliament for the county of Fermanagh, of which county he was appointed custos rotulorum on the 2nd of April, 1661. He married Elizabeth, daughter of John Chichester, Esq. of Dungannon, by whom he had four sons and seven daughters, and died in or about the year 1693.
JOHN COLGAN
A native of the county of Donegal, and celebrated; both as an author and a scholar; was a strict Franciscan friar in the Irish convent of St. Anthony of Padua, in Louvain, in which he was professor of divinity. He was thoroughly acquainted with the Irish language, and like wise possessed a great knowledge of the antiquities and church history of his country, by the acquirement of which learning, he was admirably qualified for the praiseworthy and laborious work in which he had engaged, namely, the collecting and writing the lives of the Irish saints; a work in which he was greatly aided by the collections made for the same purpose by Hugh Ward*, who was unfortunately prevented from carrying his intentions into effect: by sudden death. He (Colgan) gave up the greater part of his time and talents to this work, and has published two large folio volumes, illustrated with: many notes, both useful and learned, especially in what regards
Hugh Ward was likewise a native of the county of Donegal, but received part of his education at Salamanca and part in Paris; and afterwards was made lecturer, and then guardian of the Irish college at: Louvain. Prior to which he was admitted into the order of Franciscan friars at Salamanca, in the year 1616. He was a man deeply read in Hibernian antiquities, and undertook the writing a complete History of the Lives of the Saints of Ireland. For which purpose he employed one Michael O’Clery,. who was likewise a friar of the same order, and sent him from Louvain to: Ireland to search for manuscripts and to collect materials for the work. The finishing of which was prevented by the author’s sudden decease, on the 5th November, 1635; and the whole of his papers came into the possession of John Colgan, and were singularly useful to him,
484 COLGAN
the ancient topography of Ireland, and has annexed to them large and complete tables. The last of these volumes in order was the first printed and entitled “Acta Sanctorum Veteris et Majoris Scotizæ seu Hiberniæ, &c. &c.” Lov. 1645. Folio. His intention (says Ware) was, first to publish one general Treatise, or Synopsis of the Ecclesiastical Antiquities of Ireland. Secondly, The Acts of St. Patrick, St. Columb, and St. Bridgit. And, thirdly, to write the Lives and Acts of the other Saints of Ireland, according to the order of the months and days, which would occupy many volumes. But the first part of this last work being earliest ready for the press, he presented it to the public eye, and called it the first volume, though, the third of what he intended for his Ecclesiastical Antiquities. Into this volume he brought all the saints of Ireland who died during the first three months of the year, and it is suspected some Scots and English, such as he could lay the least claim to; yet is far short (continueth, the same author) of making sufficient reprisals on Mr. Dempster who with so bare a face hath plundered the Irish calendar, and from thence got the nick-name of [Greek], or the Saint-stealer. Peter Talbot, a man of “good parts and learning,” gives our author the title and character of Incitorum Corrosor, or a raker together of uncertain and unknown lives. The second volume of this work was printed at Louvain in 1647. In this volume he hath given seven different lives of St. Patrick, five of St. Columb, and six of St. Bridgit, to which he has annexed appendixes, notes, and indexes.
He died at Louvain in 1658, and his death frustrated his intention of giving to the public the lives of the Irish Saints for the other nine months of the year.
Several manuscript volumes of his writings are yet remaining at Louvain, the titles of which are to be found in Harris’s Edition of Ware.
485
ST. COLUMBA, or, COLUMKILLE, . Was one of the greatest patriarchs of the monastic order in Ireland, and the apostle of the Picts. To distinguish him from other saints of the same name, he was surnamed Columkille, from the great: number of monastic cells; called by the Irish, killes, of which he was. the founder. He was of the noble extraction of Neil, and was born at Gartan, in the county of Tyrconnel, in 521, and early learned the divine Scriptures, and the lessons of an ascetic life under the celebrated bishop of St. Ferrian, in his great school of Cluain-iraird, and esteemed nothing worthy his pursuit that did not assist him in the disengagement of his mind from the world, and the advance of religion and holiness in his heart. Being advanced to the order of priesthood. in 546, he gave admirable lessons of piety, and sacred learning, and was soon attended by many disciples. He founded, about the year 550, the great monastery of Dair-magh, now called Durrogh, and Sit James Ware mentions a MS copy of the four gospels of St. Jerome’s translation, adorned with silver plates, as then extant, preserved in this abbey. He likewise founded many other monasteries of less note; and the same antiquarian observes, that a rule composed by St. Columba, then existed in the old Irish. This rule he settled in the hundred: monasteries, which he founded in Ireland and Scotland. King Dermot (like great men of more modern times) being offended at the zeal which reproved public vices, St. Columba determined on: leaving his native country; and with his twelve disciples passed into Scotland, and was successful in converting the king of the northern Picts, together with his subjects. These Picts, having embraced the faith, gave St. Columba the little island of Hy, or Iona, called from him Y-colin-kille, twelves miles from the land, in which he built the great monastery, which was for several ages the chief seminary of North Britain, and continued long the burying-place of
486 COLUMBA.
the kings, and other superior personages. Lewis, in his ancient History of Great Britain, mentions the remains of the tombs in the church-yard, of forty-eight kings of Scotland, four kings of Ireland, and eight kings of Norway.
St. Columba’s manner of living was most austere; his. fasting extraordinary, the bare floor his bed, and a stone his pillow; yet he was mild and cheerful, and his general. benificence [sic] won him the hearts of all;—he considered time of so much value, that. he suffered no minutes to pass without employment, and that employment of the best kind, promoting religion and virtue in his own person, and communicating the same by example and precept to all, around him,—a rare example to the priesthood of all denominations. In the MS. life of St. Columba: by O’Donnell, it is asserted that in the year 544, being a prince of the royal family, he was offered: the crown of Ireland, and that. Dermod M’Cerball, his competitor, succeeded only because our holy abbot preferred the cowl to the diadem, an evident proof of the sincerity of his devotion, and the humility of his mind.
He died in the seventy-seventh year of his age, and was buried in the island, but was some ages. after removed to Down, in Ulster, and laid in one vet with the remains of St. Patrick and St. Brigit.
It is justly observed by Butler, that formerly, christians hid themselves in solitudes, that they might more immediately devote themselves to the service of Gods but now, after a christian education, too many pass their whole lives in dissipation and vanity, without being able to find leisure for serious meditation or reading, as if they made it their study to unlearn the chief thing which it concerns them to know, and to love the only thing: for which they exist —religion, or the worship of God.
END OF VOL. 1
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