For OCTOBER 1821.

A New and Improved Series.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF ILLUSTRIOUS AND

DISTINGUISHED CHARACTERS.

Number Gue Hundred and Fifty-four.

MRS. INCHBALD.

the world.

THERE are few instances of modern fe- || above mentioned, she declared her firm male biography calculated to afford so plea- || purpose, of not living longer without seeing surable an interest, as that of the late Mrs. Inchbald. Her moral excellence and her high literary character were equally admirable; her worth was acknowledged, and her history may be termed eventful and romantic.

Mrs. Inchbald was reared in a retirement, which the circumstances of her infancy indicated of long continuance; we find her, however, in the flower of her youth, most respectably conspicuous in public life. Her birth-place was an obscure village, near Bury St. Edmund's, in Suffolk; her father was a respectable farmer.

She was anxious to become acquainted with those customs and manners, which were depicted to her in the newspapers and magazines of the day, above all to see London. She proposed many plans for the accomplishment of her wishes, which were constantly rejected by the prudence of her friends; her desire, however, increased with her years, and, with beauty that had

grown with her growth," at the dangerous and inexperienced age of seventeen, she rambled from the paternal dwelling, and, without acquainting any individual of her Of a large family, every member of which || intentions, arrived in London, a mere inquiwas remarkable for personal beauty, Eliza- || sitive adventurer. beth, the subject of our present sketch, was considered particularly handsome; the advantages of person seemed, however, to be overbalanced by a natural impediment of speech. Her great fondness for reading led her, at the ardent age of seventeen, to entertain a strong desire of visiting the metropolis, of which all her ideas had been taken from novels. Captivated with the pleasures of ideal society, curiosity attained such an ascendancy over her, that before the period

The engraving in our present number was not taken at a very early age, but yet was painted when in the maturity of her beauty, and it will give a correct idea of her great personal attractions, when in her bloom: her hair was of that bright gold colour, so much celebrated by poets and painters, and her complexion had all the glow and freshness of youth in its first spring; her eyes were dark, and her teeth exquisitely white and even; while the loftiness of her stature

and the symmetry of her form were of corresponding beauty and attraction.

this esteem, is evident from a circumstance we cannot forbear recording. From the Such was Miss Simson in the year 1772; || day of marriage, Mr. Inchbald evinced the and, about the end of February, of that year, most perfect and even romantic attachment at an early hour in the morning, with a few and fidelity towards his wife; yet was he requisite articles of clothing, packed up in never able to realize the hope he had fondly a small band-box, she ran about two miles indulged, of some time converting into across some fields till she came to the Lon-affection, as ardent as his own, that cold don road, where, in much agitation, she awaited the arrival of the Diligence, which speedily conveyed her to "that spot of glory and that world of woe,"-London.

indifference, which, before marriage, she had repeatedly declared she felt towards him, and which her native frankness and candour never allowed her to conceal. Yet duty and gratitude made her feelingly alive to her duty as a wife, and she remained unshaken in her principles of virtue and obedience, though her heart was forcibly attacked by all the blandishments of seduction, by one, who, to exalted birth and elegance of person, united those accomplish

This first important step in her life may well be deemed rash; but those whose minds are bent on adventure seldom resort to ordinary means for the attainment of that end her's was not the elopement of a love-sick girl; its motive was an ardent curiosity for objects the most worthy of the passion. Nor did she quit the protecting||ments which rarely fail to make strong imroof of home without some settled plan for future conduct. She had heard her parents speak of a distant female relation, the wife of a tradesman, who lived opposite to Northumberland House, in the Strand, and to this relation she determined to apply; but this friend, on whose protection she had thus relied, had left London and retired to Wales.

pressions on the female mind. Alarmed at the situation of her own heart, she seized the desperate expedient of confiding in her husband's tender love, and confessed to him what she thought a violation of her mind. She implored his pity, and requested he would remove with her to a distance from him, who had made her although but in thought, swerve from her conjugal vows. Her health, by these conflicts, being much injured, the south of France was considered the most efficacious spot for her recovery. Her husband, many years older than her

On this mortifying disappointment, Miss Simson turned her thoughts to the Stage, but, notwithstanding the allurements of a person and figure irresistibly charming, she did not at first succeed with the mana-self, charmed with her generosity, repaid gers, and she experienced much mortification before she could accomplish her purpose.

After a great variety of incidents in London, in which she displayed great decision of character, and virtuous principle, she married Mr. Inchbald, of Drury Lane Theatre, and went with him to Edinburgh, where, introduced by her husband to the Theatre, she was engaged as a performer for four years, and the two succeeding years were passed at York. Respecting her theatrical career, there is but little to relate: the defect in her speech, and a deficiency of animation on the Stage, were overlooked in the admiration of her personal attractions, and of her most amiable and exemplary private character. That she well merited

her by becoming, not the jealous guardian, but the faithful confidant, the careful adviser, and the affectionate comforter; using all his endeavours to reconcile her to herself, and she soon recovered her health and tranquillity.

She returned to England improved in health, and with a mind stocked with new ideas. Soon after her arrival she lost her husband, and though her marriage had been rather the result of gratitude than of affection, her conduct, after his death, reflected on her the highest honour. For four years she continued to perform at Covent Garden Theatre, where she experienced some mortifications; and she accepted a place, though not of very advantageous emolument, on the Dublin Theatre; on quitting which she

once more returned to Covent Garden, || benevolent and every Christian virtue, while where she continued as an actress for seve- she shunned, as much as possible, the culti ral years, and, at length, very suddenly re-vating new acquaintance (for was it possible linquished her situation, continuing, how ever, to reside in London, though in great obscurity, and much oppressed with poverty.

In the fourth year of her engagement at Covent Garden, she sent her " Mogul Tale" to Mr. Colman, and this was the first piece she brought upon the stage, though the comedy of "I'll tell you what!" was written near three years before, and had lain during that time unread in Mr. Colman's possession: being in a female hand, and sent by an anonymous author, he probably considered it unworthy a perusal. The Mogul Tale was sent in the same manner, but its brevity procured it the good fortune of an immediate reading. On its success, Mrs. Inchbald reminded Mr. Colman of her comedy, which he soon brought out under the title of "I'll tell you what." The town was delighted with this popular piece, which || was written when the fair author was only twenty-four years of age.

that a mind like hers could ever endure the common-place gossip of the hour?) She was a most warm and steady friend to those she had long known and esteemed, and to them her friendship was most unreserved, sincere, and fervent. Her heart and her purse were ever open to the calls of indigence; but her own spirit was truly independent she laudably preferred the emoluments of her native genius to receiving benefits even from the most wealthy, and her great mind could never support the weight of obligation.

Among her intimate friends were Mrs. Siddons and the Countess of Derby.

Of Mrs. Inchbald, in all the flower of youth and beauty, and surrounded by dangerous temptation, there never was but one opinion with those who knew her. When, in her widowhood, she found, by her own exertions, the tide of fortune turn in her favour, she was not lifted up so as to forget her former difficulties: her style of living, in her most prosperous days, was moderate, and its chief feature was bounty to others in distress she studied economy to enable her to practise this most amiable of all virtues; and she preserved to her latest hour a high sense of the moral dignity of character.

:

Success stimulated her to new exertions; this comedy was succeeded by Appearances are against them, The Widow's Vow, This distinguished lady, a short time preSuch Things are, and The Midnight Hour.vious to her death, placed in the hands of a These are pieces well known to the public, and it is needless to speak of their merits : they are now stock plays, and likely to please through many generations. To these dramatic writings she also added some of the most charming novels of modern date; and her "Simple Story" will be read with interest, while the love of natural scenery and the admiration of a portrait of real life shall last.

female friend, the only copy she had ever made of a diary of her eventful life, with a positive injunction that it should be destroyed. On its being represented to her that this would be a manifest injustice to her literary fame, she, with native generosity, insisted on the observance of her instructions, observing, that the production, if published, might injure the feelings of survivors; and the interesting work was accordingly destroyed.

The remains of this excellent and admirable woman were deposited in Kensington churchyard, agreeably to the request of her will; by which she also bequeathed a considerable property to the Theatrical Fund of Covent Garden Theatre.

ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS.

HISTORICAL GLEANINGS.

ON THE ADVANTAGES OF INDUSTRY.

pher's stone; for they have anticipated the wealth of Mexico, they have not waited its arrival in Europe, but have transmuted their iron and their copper into the pre

cious metal.

REFLECTIONS ON THE LIFE OF JAMES II.

A CERTAIN degree of labour and exertion seems to have been allotted us by Providence, as the condition of humanity. "In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat thy bread:" this interdiction of indolence to mankind has proved to them a blessing. And the favoured few, who, by their rank or their riches, are exempted from personal exertion, have little reason to be thankful for the privilege. It was the observation of this necessity, that led the ancients to say, "the gods sold them every thing, but gave them nothing." Water, however, which is one of the great necessaries of life, may in general be gratuitously procured; but it has been well observed, that if bread, the other great necessary of human life, could be procured on terms equally cheap and easy, there would be much more reason to fear, that men would become brutes, for the want of employment, rather than philosophers, from the possession of leisure. And the facts seems to bear out the theory. In all countries, where nature is most productive, man does the least; and where she exerts herself but little, there we universally find the utmost stretch of human exertion. Thus, Spain with a highly favour-ration of lesser and amiable propensities, ed climate, produces the worst farmers; Scotland, comparatively a rigid desert, the best horticulturists: the former are the spoilt children of indulgence, the latter, the hardy offspring of endeavour.

The copper, coal, and iron of England, in as much as they involve much labour in the production, and insure a still further accumulation of it, when obtained, have turned out to be richer mines to us, than those of Potosi and Peru. The possessors of the latter have been impoverished by their treasures, while we have been constantly enriched by our exertion. Our coal and iron merchants, have uncousciously been the sole possessors of the philoso

In the eventful life of the Prince, whose memoir we have attempted, is strongly exemplified the truth of the beautiful remark, "sweet are the uses of adversity.” We have seen that principle of religion, which under due regulation, would have yielded far different fruits, emasculating rather than invigorating the powers of the mind, or much perverting them; we have seen it but feebly correcting the erroneous propensities of his heart, tending little to soften his disposition, to humble his pride, give courtesy to his manners, or imparting that fortitude and presence of mind in desperate exigencies, which appears in general to be the peculiar attribute of the principle, when it is genuine, and deeply implanted in the heart. We have seen bigotry, the grand spring of his action, exposing him to the most pernicious and destructive counsel, and checking the ope

which would have rendered his religious faith venerable by its gentle influence on his practice.

Animated by a mistaken zeal, he was blind to the errors into which it might plunge him, till too late to retrieve them. But we are enabled to reverse this mortifying picture, and find religious principle assuming its proper, sacred, and benign influence over the conduct. We behold the monarch divested of power, in the bosom of retirement; and are enabled, by undoubted testimony, "writ by his own hand," to mark the unassuming virtues of the man, removed from the glare which greatness threw around him. We behok

his once proud and arbitrary temper vanish- During the reign of Henry II. some difing with his greatness, or transformed into ference broke out between the courts of the practice of the virtues of mildness, England and of France. Here the histomercy, and patience. His stern and un- rian is wanting, and we can only say that, bending manners exchanged for affability to demand satisfaction, a French Champion and kindness, and his religion proving it- || arrived in London. self genuine by the humility and constancy of its exercise, and by its daily increasing influence, in opening and improving all the gentlest virtues of the heart.

"Yet, while we contemplate this pleasing picture, let us remember it portrays a frail man, and a Catholic devotee; and, if with much we may see to admire, and worthy of imitation, we yet observe some too deep shadows of a weak attention to forms and ceremonies, let us not cavil at or neglect the one, or contemptously deride the other; remembering, that although they may seem to sully that genuine piety which threw an ardour of sanctity around the blameless close of this monarch's life, || yet that they are indifferent in the sight of Him who asks but the heart of man for his sacrifice; and that the acceptable offering seems to have been made in the spirit of sanctity aud humility."

THE KING'S CHAMPION IN IRELAND.

THE following historical narrative of the DE COURCYS, BARONS OF KINSALE, has a romantic air of the days of ancient chivalry, which renders it interesting, independent of its curiosity as an historical fact.

At Kinsale, which is a romantic spot in the county of Cork, in Ireland, reside in great seclusion, a nobleman and his family, dear to antiquity, and to the historian, and revered by their country: yet as little known to the modern peerage as if their family honours had been without the distinguished origin they possess.

John Courcy, of the kingdom of Ireland, was, in the reign of Henry the Second, created Lord Kinsale, Baron of Courcy, and Baron of Ringstone, at so remote a date as the year 1181.

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The far-famed prowess of this hero of the lance and plume spread an unusual terror; the English people were panic stricken, and the alarm of the court was not only increased by this panic, but by the difficulty of providing a person to meet the challenger.-England had no "ST. GEORGE" to encounter this HECTOR of France.

The dilemma in which the court found itself, having transpired, the challenger lost all respect for the country, and the heart of Henry was agonised at the insolence of his exultation.

Whilst France and her "Champion" chuckled at England's embarrassment, one of the nobles of Henry recollected that a person of the name of COURCY, who resided in Ireland, was reputed of amazing courage and strength, and of infinite skill, both at the LANCE and the SWORD. He hastened to his royal master with the suggestion; the matter was proposed and discussed in council, and more for curiosity than from expectation, Courcy was sent for.

Shortly after, without knowing for what he was summoned, arrived at the palace of Henry, in his native habiliments, without heraldic bearings or retinue, JOHN COURCY of KINSALE-a man endowed by nature with a fine athletic person, and a noble and commanding countenance.

When the matter was moved to him, with a modest cautiousness, he requested to see the hero of France, who was accordingly introduced to him, bedecked with all the splendour of his court, forming a singular contrast to the plainness of his proposed antagonist. The Frenchman conducted himself with an insulting hauteur; the Irishman himself with the most intimidating INDIFFERENCE. Each took the others dimensions, and the parties adjourn

In those barbarous days, the fate of kingdoms was often decided by single combat -Kings entertained CHAMPIONS, and to excel in tilt and tournament was the ambi-ed "for further consultation." tion of nobles and of princes.

When Courcy was asked in confidence