OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Philips, Charles

​PHILIPS, CHARLES (1708–1747), portrait-painter, son of Richard Philips (1681–1741), also a portrait-painter of some repute, was born in 1708, and at an early age formed a good connection among the nobility. He was noted for his small whole-lengths and conversation pieces, which are minutely and skilfully, if somewhat timidly, painted, and valuable on account of the truth and ​sincerity with which the costumes and accessories are treated. His life-sized portraits are weaker and less satisfactory. Philips was much patronised by Frederick, prince of Wales, for whom he painted two pictures, now at Windsor, of meetings of convivial clubs formed by the prince, and styled ‘Knights of the Round Table’ and ‘Harry the Fifth, or the Gang Club.’ A portrait of the prince and three of the princess, painted by Philips, have been engraved; and another of the princess dated 1737, in which she is represented with her first baby, Princess Augusta, on her lap, is at Warwick Castle. Other known works of Philips are: Lady Betty Germain, seated in a panelled room, 1731 (Knole); Charles Spencer, second duke of Marlborough, 1731 (Woburn); the Duke of Cumberland and Lord Cathcart at Culloden, or, more probably, Fontenoy, and the family of Lord Archibald Hamilton, 1731 (both at Thornton-le-Street); Bishop Warburton (National Portrait Gallery); Archbishop Secker, when bishop of Oxford (Cuddesden Palace); Thomas Frewen and wife, 1734 (Brickwell); and two groups of members of the Russell, Greenhill, and Revett families (Chequers). Several other portraits by Philips have been engraved by Faber and Burford. He resided in Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, married in 1738, and died in 1747. A miniature of Philips, painted by himself, was lent to the 1865 miniature exhibition at South Kensington by T. Wharton Jones, F.R.S., the then representative of the Philips family. Vertue mentions Philips as one of the half-dozen leading painters of the day who were all of low stature—‘five-foot men or under.’
[Redgrave's Dict. of Artists; Chaloner Smith's British Mezzotinto Portraits; Cat. of National Portrait Exhibition, 1867; Vertue's Collections in British Museum (Addit. MS. 23076); information from the late Sir George Scharf, K.C.B.]
F. M. O'D.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Philips, Nathaniel George

​PHILIPS, NATHANIEL GEORGE (1795–1831), artist, was the youngest son of John Leigh Philips of Mayfield, Manchester, where he was born on 9 June 1795. His father, besides gaining great popularity as lieutenant-colonel commandant of the Manchester and Salford volunteers, formed a remarkable collection of books, pictures, and other works of art which, on his death in 1814, were dispersed at a sale that extended over nineteen days. Philips was educated at the Manchester grammar school, and afterwards entered the university of Edinburgh, with the intention of qualifying for the medical profession. While pursuing his medical studies he made the acquaintance, among many brilliant men then resident in Edinburgh, of Sir William Allan [q. v.] and other distinguished artists of the Scottish school. By their advice he ultimately adopted art as a profession.
The possession of a moderate competency enabled him to prepare himself thoroughly for his new vocation. In 1824 he went to Italy for three years, and so greatly was his talent appreciated in Rome that, on the death of Fuseli, he was, in 1825, elected to fill his place as a member of the academy of St. Luke. On his return to England he settled in Liverpool, where he worked industriously. He exhibited landscapes at the Liverpool Academy and the Royal Manchester Institution. The work by which he is best remembered is a series of twenty-eight engravings on copper, many of them beautifully executed by himself from his own drawings, of old halls in Lancashire and Cheshire. These were originally issued in 1822–4, and there is some doubt if more than twenty-five were then printed. All were reissued in book form in 1893, ‘with descriptive letterpress by twenty-four local contributors’ and a memoir of the artist. Philips, who also practised etching, died unmarried at his residence, Rodney Street, Liverpool, on 1 Aug. 1831. His work is remarkable for accuracy, and is bold and masterly. A drawing, in sepia, in the possession of the writer, depicts the Windmills at Bootle near Liverpool.
A portrait of Philips was introduced by Sir William Allan, P.R.S.A., in the principal group of his picture ‘The Circassian Slave.’
A. N.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Philipps, Thomas

​PHILIPPS, THOMAS (1774–1841), vocalist and composer, connected with a Monmouthshire family, was born in London in 1774. He became an actor, and his first appearance was on 10 May 1796 at Covent Garden Theatre, when he played Philippo in the ‘Castle of Andalusia.’ His voice was pronounced by critics to be tolerable in point ​of tone, while his manners were ‘somewhat too gentle for the stage.’ He obtained instruction from Dr. Samuel Arnold [q. v.], and improved rapidly. In 1801 he was engaged at the Crow Street Theatre in Dublin, where, according to the author of the ‘Familiar Epistles,’ he was destined
To bear our opera's whole weight, The Atlas of our vocal state.
The satirist, while acknowledging Philipps's gift of voice, thought it one better adapted to a room than to a theatre. Kelly, however, proclaimed Philipps in 1826 the best acting singer on the English stage. By that time he had returned to London, where, on 26 June 1809, he appeared at the English Opera House in ‘Up all Night.’ He afterwards took part in the ‘Maniac,’ the ‘Peasant Boy,’ ‘Plots,’ and ‘M.P.’ at the same theatre in 1811. A tour in America is said to have enriched him by 7,000l., but he did not relinquish work, lecturing on vocal art in London and the provinces. Philipps retired early from the stage, taught singing, and composed ballads. He was a professional member of the Catch Club in 1828. He died at the age of sixty-seven on 27 Oct. 1841, from the result of a railway accident.
Philipps published ‘Elementary Principles and Practice of Singing,’ Dublin, 1826; ‘Crows in a Cornfield,’ for three voices, about 1830; the ‘Mentor's Harp: a Collection of Moral Ballads,’ and many songs and ballads.
[True Briton, 12 May 1796; Baptie's Musical Biography, p. 178; Ann. Register, 1841, p. 229; Musical World, 1841, p. 295; Kelly's Reminiscences, ii. 149; Familiar Epistles to F. E. Jones on the Irish Stage, 1806, p. 74; Genest's Hist. of the Stage, vol. viii. passim.]
L. M. M.
# Dreams & Dust/The Butchers At Prayer

EACH nation as it draws the sword And flings its standard to the air Petitions piously the Lord-- Vexing the void abyss with prayer.
O irony too deep for mirth! O posturing apes that rant, and dare This antic attitude! O Earth, With your wild jest of wicked prayer!
I dare not laugh . . . a rising swell Of laughter breaks in shrieks somewhere-- No doubt they relish it in Hell, This cosmic jest of Earth at prayer!
# Dreams & Dust/The Jesters

Published in the collection Dreams and Dust (1915).
A TOAST to the Fools! Pierrot, Pantaloon, Harlequin, Clown, Merry-Andrew, Buffoon-- Touchstone and Triboulet--all of the tribe.-- Dancer and jester and singer and scribe. We sigh over Yorick--(unfortunate fool, Ten thousand Hamlets have fumbled his skull!)-- But where is the Hamlet to weep o'er the biers Of his brothers? And where is the poet solicits our tears For the others? They have passed from the world and left never a sign, And few of us now have the courage to sing That their whimsies made life a more livable thing-- We, that are left of the line, Let us drink to the jesters--in gooseberry wine!
Then here's to the Fools! Flouting the sages Through history's pages And driving the dreary old seers into rages-- The humbugging Magis Who prate that the wages Of Folly are Death--toast the Fools of all ages! They have ridden like froth down the whirlpools of time, They have jingled their caps in the councils of state, They have snared half the wisdom of life in a rhyme, And tripped into nothingness grinning at fate-- Ho, brothers mine, Brim up the glasses with gooseberry wine!
Though the prince with his firman, The judge in his ermine, Affirm and determine Bold words need the whip, Let them spare us the rod and remit us the sermon, For Death has a quip
Of the tomb and the vermin That will silence at last the most impudent lip! Is the world but a bubble, a bauble, a joke? Heigho, Brother Fools, now your bubble is broke, Do you ask for a tear?--or is it worth while? Here's a sigh for you, then--but it ends in a smile! Ho, Brother Death, We would laugh at you, too--if you spared us the breath!
# Dreams & Dust/The Child and the Mill

Published in the collection Dreams and Dust (1915).
BETTER a pauper, penniless, asleep on the kindly sod-- Better a gipsy, houseless, but near to the heart of God,
That beats for ears not dulled by the clanking wheels of care-- Better starvation and freedom, hope and the good fresh air
Than death to the Something in him that was born to laugh and dream, That was kin to the idle lilies and the ripples of the stream.
For out of the dreams of childhood, that careless come and go, The boy gains strength, unknowing, that the Man will prove and know.
But these fools with their lies and their dollars, their mills and their bloody hands, Who make a god of a wheel, who worship their whirring bands,
They are flinging the life of a people, raw, to the brute machines. Dull-eyed, weary, and old--old in his early teens--
Stunted and stupid and twisted, marred in the mills of grief, Can your factories fashion a Man of this thing-- a Man and a Chief?
Dumb is the heart of him now, at the time when his heart should sing-- Wasters of body and brain, what race will the future bring?
What of the nation's nerve whenas swift crises come? What of the brawn that should heave the guns on the beck of the drum?
Thieves of body and soul, who can neither think nor feel, Swine-eyed priests of little false gods of gold and steel,
Bow to your obscene altars, worship your loud mills then! Feed to Moloch and Baal the brawn and brains of men--
But silent and watchful and hidden forever over all The masters brood of those Mills that "grind exceeding small."
And it needs no occult art nor magic to foreshow That a people who sow defeat they will reap the thing they sow.
# Dreams & Dust/The God-maker, Man

NEVERMORE Shall the shepherds of Arcady follow Pan's moods as he lolls by the shore Of the mere, or lies hid in the hollow; Nevermore Shall they start at the sound of his reed-fashioned flute;
Fallen mute Are the strings of Apollo, His lyre and his lute; And the lips of the Memnons are mute Evermore; And the gods of the North,--are they dead or forgetful, Our Odin and Baldur and Thor? Are they drunk, or grown weary of worship and fretful, Our Odin and Baldur and Thor?
And into what night have the Orient dieties strayed? Swart gods of the Nile, in dusk splendors arrayed, Brooding Isis and somber Osiris, You were gone ere the fragile papyrus, (That bragged you eternal!) decayed.
The avatars But illumine their limited evens And vanish like plunging stars; They are fixed in the whirling heavens No firmer than falling stars; Brief lords of the changing soul, they pass Like a breath from the face of a glass, Or a blossom of summer blown shallop-like over The clover And tossed tides of grass.
Sink to silence the psalms and the paeans The shibboleths shift, and the faiths, And the temples that challenged the aeons Are tenanted only by wraiths; Swoon to silence the cymbals and psalters, The worships grow senseless and strange,
And the mockers ask, "Where be thy altars?" Crying, "Nothing is changeless--but Change!"
Yes, nothing seems changeless, but Change. And yet, through the creed-wrecking years, One story for ever appears; The tale of a City Supernal-- The whisper of Something eternal-- A passion, a hope, and a vision That peoples the silence with Powers; A fable of meadows Elysian Where Time enters not with his Hours;-- Manifold are the tale's variations, Race and clime ever tinting the dreams, Yet its essence, through endless mutations, Immutable gleams.
Deathless, though godheads be dying, Surviving the creeds that expire, Illogical, reason-defying, Lives that passionate, primal desire; Insistent, persistent, forever Man cries to the silences, Never
Shall Death reign the lord of the soul, Shall the dust be the ultimate goal-- I will storm the black bastions of Night! I will tread where my vision has trod, I will set in the darkness a light, In the vastness, a god!"
As the forehead of Man grows broader, so do his creeds; And his gods they are shaped in his image, and mirror his needs; And he clothes them with thunders and beauty, he clothes them with music and fire; Seeing not, as he bows by their altars, that he worships his own desire; And mixed with his trust there is terror, and mixed with his madness is ruth, And every man grovels in error, yet every man glimpses a truth.
For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds are true; And low at the shrines where my brothers bow, there will I bow, too;
For no form of a god, and no fashion Man has made in his desperate passion But is worthy some worship of mine;-- Not too hot with a gross belief, Nor yet too cold with pride, I will bow me down where my brothers bow, Humble--but open-eyed!
# Dreams & Dust/The Land of Yesterday

Published in the collection Dreams and Dust (1915).
AND I would seek the country town Amid green meadows nestled down If I could only find the way Back to the Land of Yesterday!
How I would thrust the miles aside, Rush up the quiet lane, and then, Just where her roses laughed in pride, Find her among the flowers again. I'd slip in silently and wait Until she saw me by the gate, And then . . . read through a blur of tears Quick pardon for the selfish years.
This time, this time, I would not wait For that brief wire that said, Too late!-- If I could only find the way Into the Land of Yesterday.
I wonder if her roses yet Lift up their heads and laugh with pride, And if her phlox and mignonette Have heart to blossom by their side; I wonder if the dear old lane Still chirps with robins after rain, And if the birds and banded bees Still rob her early cherry-trees. . . .
I wonder, if I went there now, How everything would seem, and how-- But no! not now; there is no way Back to the Land of Yesterday.
# Dreams & Dust/The Mother

THE mother by the gallows-tree, The gallows-tree, the gallows-tree, (While the twitching body mocked the sun) Lifted to Heaven her broken heart And called for sympathy.
Then Mother Mary bent to her, Bent from her place by God's left side, And whispered: "Peace--do I not know?-- My son was crucified!"
"O Mother Mary," answered she, "You cannot, cannot enter in To my soul's woe--you cannot know-- For your son wrought no sin!"
(And men whose work compelled them there, Their hearts were stricken dead;
They heard the rope creak on the beam; I thought I heard the frightened ghost Whimpering overhead.)
The mother by the gallows-tree, The gallows-tree, the gallows-tree, Lifted to Christ her broken heart And called in agony.
Then Lord Christ bent to her and said: "Be comforted, be comforted; I know your grief; the whole world's woe I bore upon my head."
"But O Lord Christ, you cannot know, No one can know," she said, "no one"-- (While the quivering corpse swayed in the wind)-- "Lord Christ, no one can understand Who never had a son!"
# Dreams & Dust/The Explorers

Published in the collection Dreams and Dust (1915).
AND some still cry: "What is the use? The service rendered? What the gain? Heroic, yes!--but in what cause? Have they made less one earth-borne pain? Broadened the bounded spirit's scope? Or died to make the dull world hope?"
Must man still be the slave of Use?-- But these men, careless and elate, Join battle with a burly world Or come to wrestling grips with fate, And not for any good nor gain Nor any fame that may befall-- But, thrilling in the clutch of life, Heed the loud challenge and the call;-- And grown to symbols at the last, Stand in heroic silhouette Against horizons ultimate, As towers that front lost seas are set;--
The reckless gesture, the strong pose, Sharp battle-cry flung back to Earth, And buoyant humor, as a god Might say: "Lo, here my feet have trod!"-- There lies the meaning and the worth!
They bring no golden treasure home, They win no acres for their clan, Nor dream nor deed of theirs shall mend The ills of man's bedeviled span-- Nor are they skilled in sleights of speech, (Nor overeager) to make plain The use they serve, transcending use,-- The gain beyond apparent gain!
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1912 supplement/Barker, Thomas

​BARKER, THOMAS (1838–1907), professor of mathematics, born on 9 Sept. 1838, was son of Thomas Barker, farmer, of Murcar, Balgonie, near Aberdeen, and of his wife Margaret. Three other children died in infancy. He was educated at the grammar school, Aberdeen, and at King's College in the same town, where he graduated in 1857 with great distinction in mathematics. He entered Trinity College, Cambridge, as minor scholar and subsizar in 1858, became foundation scholar in 1860, Sheepshanks astronomical exhibitioner in 1861, and came out in the mathematical tripos of 1862 as senior wrangler; he was also first Smith's prizeman. He was elected to a fellowship in the autumn of 1862, and was assistant tutor of Trinity till 1865, when he was appointed professor of pure mathematics in the Owens College, Manchester. He held this post for twenty years, during which the college advanced greatly both in resources and in public estimation. To this progress Barker's high repute as a teacher greatly contributed.
Barker's ideals as a mathematician differed much from those that were current in most colleges and universities of the country at the time. He was a follower of De Morgan and Boole; like them he was interested in the logical basis rather than in the applications of mathematics, and he endeavoured to set forth the processes of mathematical reasoning as a connected system from their foundation. His presentment of the subject was consequently not attractive to ordinary students, but on the more gifted minds which came under his influence it made a deep impression. His severely critical habit made him diffident of publication, but his success as a teacher is attested by the number of distinguished pupils on whom he exercised a great and possibly a determining influence. These include John Hopkinson, [q. v. Suppl. I], J. H. Poynting, A. Schuster, and Sir Joseph John Thomson.
After resignation of his chair in 1885 he lived in tranquil retirement, first at Whaley Bridge and afterwards at Buxton. His mathematical interests were varied by an almost passionate study of cryptogamic botany. He died unmarried at Buxton ​on 20 Nov. 1907, and was buried in the Manchester southern cemetery. By his will he provided for the foundation in the University of Manchester of a professorship of cryptogamic botany, and for the endowment of bursaries for poor students in mathematics and botany.
[The Times, 22 Nov. 1907, 7 Dec. (will); Manchester Guardian, 23 Nov. 1907; Manchester Univ. Mag., Doc. 1907.]
H. L-b
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1912 supplement/Bardsley, John Wareing

​BARDSLEY, JOHN WAREING (1835–1904), bishop of Carlisle, born at Keighley on 29 March 1835, was eldest son of James Bardsley, hon. canon of Manchester, and Sarah, daughter of John Wareing of Oldham. He had six brothers, all in holy orders. Educated at Burnley and afterwards at Manchester grammar school, he entered Trinity College, Dublin, where he graduated B.A. on 8 March 1859, proceeding M. A. in 1865, and receiving the Lambeth degree of D.D. in 1887. He was ordained deacon in 1859, becoming priest in 1860. Bardsley's sympathies were with the evangelical party, and he shared the views of the Islington Protestant Association, of which he was secretary (1861-4). He served curacies at Sale, Cheshire (1859-60), at St. Luke's, Liverpool (1860-4) and at St. John's, Bootle (186^-71). In 1871 he accepted the perpetual curacy of St. Saviour's, Liverpool, where he acquired the reputation of an industrious organiser and a fluent preacher. On the formation of the new see of Liverpool in 1880, bishop John Charles Ryle [q. v. Suppl. I] appointed Bardsley one of his chaplains and archdeacon of Warrington. In 1886 he was transferred to the arch-deaconry of Liverpool. Although a party man, Bardsley was no bigot. He performed his archidiaconal visitations with tact and vigour ; and in more than one instance he enforced clerical discipline by coercive measures.
In 1887 Bardsley was nominated by Lord Salisbury to the bishopric of Sodor and Man in succession to Dr. Rowley Hill [q. v.] and was consecrated in York Minster on 24 Aug. 1887. His evangelical views were in accordance with the traditions of the Manx church ; and the main feature of his episcopate was the development of the Bishop Wilson Theological College. On the death of Harvey Goodwin [q. v. Suppl. I] Bardsley was translated to the see of Carlisle, and at his enthronement on 22 April ​1892 he publicly declared his intention of being the bishop not of a party, but of the whole church. He was helpful and sympathetic to all his clergy, who trusted him implicitly, and by prudent administration he left little scope for extreme propaganda on either side. He was especially active in supporting the Diocesan Society and in organising in his diocese a systematised clergy sustentation fund. He died at Rose Castle, Carlisle, on 14 Sept. 1904, and was buried at Raughton Head.
In 1862 he married Elizabeth, daughter of Rev. Benjamin Powell of Bellingham Lodge, Wigan, and sister of Sir Francis Sharp Powell, first baronet. He left two sons and three daughters.
Although no profound nor exact scholar, Bardsley was a thorough and capable administrator. He travelled much in the East, especially in Palestine.
Besides sermons Bardsley published: 1. 'Counsels to Candidates for Confirmation,' 1882. 2. 'Apostolic Succession,' 1883.
[The Times, 15 and 19 Sept. 1904; Guardian, 21 Sept. 1904; Dublin University Calendar, 1860; Crockford, Clerical Directory, 1902.]
G. S. W.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Jackson, Basil

​JACKSON, BASIL (1795–1889), lieutenant-colonel, born at Glasgow on 27 June 1795, was the son of Major Basil Jackson of the royal wagon train, who died on 10 Sept. 1849 at the age of ninety-two. He entered the Royal Military College in 1808, obtained a commission in the royal staff corps on 11 July 1811, and was promoted lieutenant on 6 May 1813. He was employed in the Netherlands in 1814-15, was present at Waterloo as deputy assistant quartermaster-general, and was afterwards sent to St. Helena, where he remained till 1819. He served in Canada and was employed in the construction of the Rideau canal. He was promoted captain on 17 Sept. 1825, and was given a half-pay majority on 7 Feb. 1834.
In February 1835 he was made assistant professor of fortification at the East India Company's college at Addiscombe. He was transferred in December 1836 to the assistant professorship of military surveying, and held that post till 30 Dec. 1857, when he retired on a pension. He had become lieutenant-colonel on 9 Nov. 1840, and had sold out in 1847. He afterwards lived at Glewston Court, near Ross, Herefordshire, till September 1874, and at Hillsborough,co. Down, till his death on 23 Oct. 1889. He married, on 28 March 1828, the daughter of Colonel George Muttlebury, C.B.
He published: 1. 'A Course of Military Surveying' (1838), which passed through several editions, and was the text-book at Addiscombe. 2. (in conjunction with Captain C. R. Scott, also of the royal staff corps) 'The Military Life of the Duke of Wellington' (2 vols. 1840), furnished with unusually good plans.
E. M. L.