JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN, the subject of the present sketch, was born at Newmarket, in the county of Cork, on the 24th of July, 1750. His parents were of an humble, but not an abject class; his father having been qualified, by a smattering of something more than village learning, to discharge the office of seneschal in the manor court of his native town. Still they were without the means of giving their son any literary advantages; and were it not for the generous and parental kindness of the Rev. Nathaniel Boyse, who took him into his house, and instructed him in the rudiments of Greek and Latin, after some accidental encounter with the boy had revealed to him the dawnings of early promise, he might have remained to his dying day without the aids or the opportunities by which his powers could be cultivated, or rendered available for his future advancement. Mr. Boyse, it is said, saw him for the first time when playing at marbles, and was arrested by his vivacity and humor. He thought he perceived in the quickness of his eye, the readiness of his remarks, and the exuberant vitality, both animal and intellectual, which marked all his movements, germs of promise, which, circumstanced as the child then was, must be 'put forth in vain,'-but which, if cared for and cultivated by him, would produce fruits of which his country might well be proud; and he acted immediately upon the generous impulse of his benevolent heart, and took him into his house, and became his instructor. Young Curran's proficiency must have been considerable, under the more than parental assiduity of this good man, to induce the still further step of placing him at Middleton school, and allocating a little preferment which he held, of ten pounds a-year, to defray his school expenses. His noble conduct had its appropriate reward. The little boy rapidly developed the powers for which he had given him credit. His progress in classical learning was more and more marked every day; and in a very short time a solid foundation was laid, which soon enabled him to master all the difficulties and enjoy all thebeauties of writers, to whose works he ever after, when his leisure permitted, duly resorted, as perennial sources of delight and improvement. And here, be it observed, that there were noblemen and gentlemen, of large possessions, in the neighbourhood where he lived, and that it was not to any of them he was indebted for the rudiments of that learning, and that early and fostering encouragement, which enabled him afterwards to obtain distinction in the world; but to an humble parish minister of the Established Church, whose little all was not more than sufficient for his own moderate occasions ;-and that had the policy that would confiscate church possessions, or place them under a popular interdict that amounted virtually to confiscation, been then in force, Curran's genius would never have been called forth, and his history would only furnish another instance of the truth so pathetically deplored by the moralising poet, when he says "Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, But the humble pastor did for him that which a gambling, fox-hunting, carousing gentry never would have done. And it becomes, at least, his descendants, and all who sympathise with his early struggles, to consider whether it is wise or righteous to annihilate the income of the one class, merely for the purpose of adding a very incon siderable item to the already overgrown possessions of the other. Verily, we believe, that, if an account could be taken upon the subject, it would be found, more good has been done by the property in the hands of the clergy-in relieving want, promoting worth, and patronising unfriended genius,-than by all the lay property besides; and that, even if the religious purposes for which it has been set apart were altogether left out of cousideration, the community would have a more direct interest in perpetuating the arrangement by which the possessions of the Church are guaranteed, than any other arrangement under which any other description of property is distributed. Little do the rash malignants know how short-sighted, as well as criminal, is the mispolicy that would disinherit learning and worth, for the purpose of enlarging the borders of folly and extravagance.* The time had now come when Curran must try his fortune at the University; and when he took his departure for that seat of learning from the free school of Middleton, it was not forgotten that the future Lord Avon more, then a rising barrister, had preceded him from the same school by but a few years, and under almost similar circumstances, upon his career of distinction. In 1769, he matriculated in Trinity College, as a sizar. The intention of his parents was that he should enter the church; and such seems, at first, to have been his own inclination. But a gaiety of spirit, that could not brook restraint, must have early admonished him of his unfitness for the sacred profession. His vivacity and adroitness in extricating himself from the sundry scrapes in which he became involved, by reason of the spirit of frolic that continued to actuate him during the whole of his Undergraduate career, suggested both to his friends and to himself that the courts of law were his proper sphere; and, accordingly, from the second year after his entrance, to the legal profession he was destined. In ethical and classical learning his proficiency was considerable. These were studies to which he betook himself con amore, and for which he retained a keen relish during the whole of his after life. Nor can we hesitate to believe, that logic, as it was then cultivated, served to quicken and invigorate his powers, and enabled him, when he came to practise at the bar, to keep up a sort of flirtation with legitimate argument, which imparted a plausibility to his observations, even on those occasions when just and solid reasoning would have little served his purpose. But the imaginative faculty was that by which he was supremely distinguished. All his others powers started into a life and an energy under its influence, which, without it, they could have never known; while yet they never presumed to act any part not strictly in subserviency to the workings of that predominant faculty, to which, indeed, they seemed to have been indebted for their existence. "Mr. Boyse came over to Ireland in the following year (1788). Upon the morning of his arrival in Dublin, as he was on his way to Ely-place, he was met by his friend, who was proceeding in great haste to the courts, and had only time to welcome him, and bid him defer his visit till the hour of dinner. Mr. Curran invited a number of the eminent men at the bar to meet Mr. Boyse; and on returning home at a late hour from the court, with some of his guests, found the clergyman, still in his travelling dress, seated in a familiar posture at the fire, with a foot resting upon exch side of the grate. Well, Jack,' said he, turning round his head, but never altering his position, here have I been for this hour past, admiring all the fine things that I see around me, and wondering where you could have got them all.' You would not dare,' returned Mr. Curran, deeply affected by the recollections which the observation called up, to assume such an attitude, or use so little ceremony, if you were not conscious that every thing you see is your own. Yes, my first and best of friends, it is to you that I am indebted for it all. The little boy whose mind you formed, and whose hopes you animated, profiting by your instructions, has risen to eminence and affluence;-but the work is yours; what you see is but the paltry stucco upon the building of which you laid the foundation."" -Curran's Life, by his son. + Curran's early irregularities must have passed the ordinary bounds within which they seldom fail to find forgiveness, if not applause, from the youthful compeers of the delinquent; for he never was able to obtain admission into the Historical Society, which was established in his day, and some of the founders of which were his most intimate friends. Vol. XI. 2 H His College studies were completed in the early part of 1773, and he took his departure from the University for the Temple. The following passages from a letter which, upon his arrival in London, he wrote to one of his friends, is touchingly descriptive of the feelings of an ardent and sensitive mind, when launched, as he then was, for the first time, upon the great ocean of the world: "It was not without regret that I could leave a country, which my birth, education, and connexions had rendered dear to me, and venture alone, almost a child of fortune, into a land of strangers. In such moments of despondence, when fancy plays the self-tormentor, she commonly acquits herself to a miracle, and will not fail to collect in a single group the most hideous forms of anticipated misfortune. I considered myself, besides, as resigning for ever the little indulgences that youth and inexperience may claim for their errors, and passing to a period of life in which the best can scarce escape the rigid severity of censure; nor could the little trivial vanity of taking the reins of my own conduct, alleviate the pain of so dear-bought a transition from dependence to liberty. Full of these reflections as I passed the gate, I could not but turn and take a last lingering look at poor Alma-mater: it was the scene of many a boyish folly, and of many an happy hour. I should have felt more confusion at part of the retrospect, had I not been relieved by a recollection of the valuable friendships I had formed there. Though I am far from thinking such a circumstance can justify past misconduct, yet I cannot call that time totally a blank, in which one has acquired the greatest blessing of humanity. It was with a melancholy kind of exultation I counted over the number of those I loved there, while my heart gave a sigh to each name in the catalogue; nay, even the fellows, whom I never loved, I forgave at that moment: the parting tear blotted out every injury, and I gave them as hearty a benediction as if they had deserv ed it." Upon reaching Wales, and looking over the waste of waters which he had traversed, his reflections were very natural. Here, he says, I began to reflect on the impossibility of getting back without the precarious assistance of others. Poor Jack! thought I, thou wert never, till now, so far from home, but thou mightest return on thine own legs. Here now thou must remain; for where canst thou expect the assistance of a friend ?" Thus it was that the future orator soliloquised, in no very exultant mood, as he neared the vast metropolis, to mingle, an unnoticed atom, amongst its crowded and busy population. His first emotions upon entering the great city, were, naturally, those of astonishment and wonder; but these were speedily succeeded by that depression and sinking of the heart, which the youth of genius, under such circumstances, is sure to experience, when the consciousness of his own confully impressed upon him, amidst the trasted insignificance becomes powerbustle and he is surrounded. Curran was like the energy by which air balloon, upon an unknown world; a man who had alighted from an and seemed to feel as if all his previous pursuits and habits had only disqualified him for entering upon his new career with advantage. Hitherto life had been to him but a chequered holiday. Even the very privations and severities of his college existence were made to minister to his amusement. He lived amongst the wild and the ardent, the cultivated and the imaginative-whose sympathies furnished a retreat and a consolation, upon which he could securely fall back, in the event of any little reverse or disappointment. He felt as if he had kith and kin in the congenialities of his youthful associates, by which he was guaranteed against the casualties of the world; and that the malice of the inconstant goddess might be defied, as long as they remained united. But now all was changed. The battle of fortune, where he was to contend for life or death, must be fought upon very different ground;the stern realities of life must now be contemplated in all their unattractive child of poesy and imagination be exnakedness; and the day dream of the changed, amongst uncongenial associates, for the rude bustle and the ungrateful toil of ordinary existence. But if Curran was not one of those "whose hearts the holy forms of young imagination have kept pure," it, at least, served to make "the past, the distant, and the future," so predominant over the present, as to preserve him from the debasing effects of sordid and vulgar intercourse, and invigorate and freshen both his public spirit and his social virtues. The following lines, from a poem on friendship, written about this period to one of his friends in Ireland, although without the higher "Alas! my friend, were Providence inclined And feeds the source whence tears for ever flow." And in the following, the youthful had "But in his country's cause, if patriot zeal Or hoary jurist, in perversion wise, Would sap the laws, and on their ruin rise; But melancholy, that invariable con- While at the temple, Curran could, by no means, be said to throw away his time. He devoted a competent number of hours each day to study, and spent his evenings in convivial or literary intercourse with a few select friends, whose pursuits and destination were the same as his own, and who formed a little society for their mutual improvement. Of their social and instructive meetings, he used afterwards to speak with a melancholy pleasure; while, with that mixture of pathos and humour for which his conversation was so remarkable, he recounted his first adventurous essay in the brilliant art of elocution. Those who wish to see his own full description of what he called "breaking the shell" as an orator, may consult his Life, as written by child as to the parent. We do not his son a work as creditable to the transcribe it, because, however it may have told coming from the lips of the man, there is too much of harlequinade about it to be acceptable to the judicious reader. Suffice it to say, that as indignatio facit versus," so the same feeling, provoked by a contumelious adversary, first revealed to Curran and his friends, the powers which he possessed as an extemporaneous speaker. They were astonished at his success, and he himself was surprised and delighted. The most gifted of his friends had before admonished him that he possessed no talents for debate, but that, if he minded his books, he would make an admirable lawyer; that, as an adviser, he would be excellent-while, as an advocate, he was worthless. How strangely did the event reverse their sentence ! While, as a counsol, his deficiencies were acknowledged by all-as an advocate, he never was rivalled. The following extract, from a letter to one of the earliest and dearest of his friends, the late Rev. Rich. Carey, of Clonmel, written shortly before he was called to the bar, exhibits the sententious and moralysing strain, as well as the aptness of illustration and felicity of diction, by which he was afterwards so distinguished: "In truth, I think I am nearly the same man I ever was: affecting to look wise, and to talk wise, and exhausting most lavishly, on looking and talking, the wisdom that a better economist would reserve for acting. And yet, Dick, perhaps this is natural; perhaps we are mistaken when we wonder at finding frugality, or even avarice, on such good terms with affluence, and extravagance inseparable from poverty. In both cases, they are effects that flow naturally from their causes. They are the genuine is sue of their respective parents, who, to own the truth, cherish and preserve their offspring with a care truly parental, and unfailingly successful. 'Tis just so in wisdom; and on the same principle the man who has but a very small share of wisdom, (like him whose purse is equally shallow) squanders it away on every silly occasion: he thinks it too trifling to be worth hoarding against emergencies of moment. But a very wise man, or a very rich man, acts in a manner diametrically opposite to this. When the one has ranged his sentiments and marshalled his maxims, and the other computed his tens of thousands, the symmetry of their labors would be destroyed should a single dogma escape to the banners of unwiseness, or a single guinea take its flight to supply an extravagance. Each atom of the aggregate is held fast by its gravitation to the whole mass. Hence the fool is prodigal of his little wisdom; and the sixpence departs in peace from the pocket where it is not troubled with the cere mony of bidding adieu to another. If any chance should make me master of some enormous treasure, I would not despair of finding out its value; and if experience, and the industry of my own folly, shall reap a harvest of prudence, I will make you wonder at my care in drying it for use. I will regale myself in my old age with the spirit of it; and dispense the small tea to those who may have occasion for it." To pecuniary embarrassments he was sometimes exposed; and the following incident illustrates the naviete and cheerfulness with which he could bear them. His money having run out, or, to use his own phrase, "his purse being reduced to the last stage of inanition," a long expected remittance arrived, with which he flew to the banker's; when, lo! to his consternation, it appeared, that, for want of a necessary endorsement, the bill could not be cashed. This, to the pennyless student, was a most appalling calamity; and, turning from the banker's, he strolled into St. James's Park, where, during his usual dinner hour, he remained, revolving in his mind his melancholy condition, and racking his brain for expedients to avert impending starvation. The remainder shall be told in the words of his son: "As he sat upon one of the benches, exhausted with devising expedients, he began to whistle a melancholy old Irish air: an old gentleman, seated at the other end, (it was Macklin) started at the well-known sounds. ་ "Pray, sir,' said the stranger, may I venture to ask where you learned that tune?' "Indeed, sir,' replied the whistler, in the meek and courteous tone of a spirit which affliction had softened, indeed you may, sir: I learned it in my native country, in Ireland.' "But how comes it, sir, that at this hour, while other people are dining, you continue here, whistling old Irish airs?" "Alas! sir, I too have been in the habit of dining of late; but to-day, my money being all gone, and my credit not yet arrived, I am even forced to come and dine upon a whistle in the park.' "Struck by the mingled despondence and playfulness of this confession, the benevolent veteran exclaimed, Courage, young man! I think I can see that you deserve better fare: come along with me, and you shall have it.' Macklin came to Dublin. "About ten years after this interview, Mr. Curran, who in the interval had risen to eminence, was invited one evening to a party where the actor was one of the company. They were presented to each other; but Macklin failed to recognise, in the now celebrated advocate and oraPark. Mr. Curran, perceiving this, abtor, the distressed student in St. James's stained for the moment from claiming little time, to introduce a conversation any acquaintance; but he contrived, in a upon the acts of kindness and hospitality which Irishmen so generally receive abroad from such of their countrymen as they may chance to meet; as a proof of which, he began to relate what had happened to himself, and proceeded to give a vivid picture of the scene, and, (suppressing the name,) of the generous old man who had befriended him in a land of strangers. A glow of recollection was soon observed upon the player's countenance: he started, and fixing his eyes upon the speaker, If my memory fails me not, sir,' said he, we have met before?" Yes, Mr. Macklin,' replied Mr. Curran, taking his hand, indeed we have met; and though upon that occasion you were only performing upon a private theatre, let me assure you, that (to adopt the words of a high judicial personage, which you have heard before,) you never acted better.'" |