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

​BANKES, GEORGE (1788–1856), the last of the cursitor barons of the exchequer—the office being abolished on his death in 1856—was the third son of Henry Bankes [q. v.], of Kingston Hall, Dorsetshire, who represented Corfe Castle for nearly fifty years, and of Frances, daughter of Wm. Woodley, governor of the Leeward Islands. He was a lineal descendant of Sir John Bankes [q. v.], chief justice of the common pleas in the reign of Charles I. Bankes was ​educated at Westminster School and Trinity Hall, Cambridge. He studied law first at Lincoln's Inn, and afterwards at the Inner Temple, and was called to the bar by the latter society in 1815. In the following year he entered parliament as his father's colleague for the family borough of Corfe Castle, which he represented in every succeeding parliament until 1823. He was again returned for Corfe Castle in 1826, and sat until 1832, when the family borough was united with that of Wareham. He does not appear to have achieved any remarkable professional success, but owing, presumably, to his family influence, he was appointed one of the bankruptcy commissioners in 1822, and cursitor baron in 1824. In 1829, under the Wellington administration, he became chief secretary of the board of control, and in the next year a junior lord of the treasury, and one of the commissioners for the affairs of India. At the general election in 1841 he again entered parliament, being returned by the county of Dorset, for which he continued to sit until his death. He supported the tory party, and strenuously opposed Sir Robert Peel's commercial reforms. During the short administration of the Earl of Derby in 1852, Bankes held the office of judge-advocate-general, and was sworn a privy councillor. On the death of his elder brother, William John [q. v.], in 1855, he succeeded to the family estates. He died at his residence, Old Palace Yard, Westminster, leaving issue three sons and five daughters by his wife Georgina Charlotte, only child of Admiral Sir Charles Nugent, G.C.B. Bankes was the author of 'The Story of Corfe Castle and of many who have lived there' (London, 1853), and of 'Brave Dame Mary,' a work of fiction founded on the 'Story.'
[Illustrated London News, 12 July 1856; Burke's Dictionary of the Landed Gentry; Foss's Lives of the Judges of England.]
G. V. B.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Bankes, Henry

1904 Errata appended.
​BANKES, HENRY (1757–1834), politician and author, was born in 1757, the only surviving son of Henry Bankes, Esq., and the great-grandson of Sir John Bankes [q. v.], chief justice of the common pleas in the time of Charles I. He was educated at Westminster School and at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he graduated B.A. in 1778, and M.A. in 1781. After leaving Cambridge he sat for the close borough of Corfe Castle from 1780 to 1826; in the latter year he was elected for the county of Dorset, and re-elected in the general election in the same year, but was rejected after a severe contest in 1830. In politics he was a conservative; he gave a general support to Pitt, but preserved his independence. He took an active but not a leading part in nearly every debate of his time, and closely attended to all parliamentary duties. He was a trustee of the British Museum, and acted as its organ in parliament. Bankes published 'A Civil and Constitutional History of Rome, from the Foundation to the Age of Augustus,' 2 vols. 1818. He married in 1784 Frances, daughter of William Woodward, governor of the Leeward Isles, and left a large family. His second son was William John Bankes [q. v.], and his third George Bankes [q. v.]. His daughter married the Earl ot Falmouth. Bankes died at Tregothnan, Cornwall, 17 Dec. 1834, and was buried in Wimborne Abbey.
[Gent. Mag. iii. new series, p. 323; Parliamentary Debates, 1780–1829; Brit. Mus. Cat.]
A. G-n.
Dictionary of National Biography, Errata (1904), p.14 N.B.— f.e. stands for from end and l.l. for last line
| Page | Col. | Line | |
| 121 | i | 3 f.e. | Bankes, Henry: after year insert and was returned without opposition in 1830 |
| | | 2 f.e. | for 1830 read 1831 |
| | ii | 10 | for Woodward read Woodley |
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Banister, John (1540-1610)

​BANISTER or BANESTER, JOHN (1540–1610), surgeon, was well known among surgeons in London in the latter half of Queen Elizabeth's reign. He began his professional life as surgeon to the forces sent under the Earl of Warwick in 1563 to relieve Havre. On this expedition he and William Clowes [q. v.], another surgical author, began a friendship which lasted throughout their lives. Some time after his return he studied at Oxford, and received a license to practise in 1573. For several years he practised both physic and surgery at Nottingham. Leicester's expedition to the Low Countries in 1585 gave Banister another opportunity of public service, and he served on board ship (Royal Letter, 1593; see Munk). After the expedition he settled in London, and in 1588 he and Clowes are associated in the dedication of Read's ‘Translation of Arceus.’ They saw many cases together, and in 1591 T. P., a patient of theirs, praised both surgeons in a wretched English poem. Complaints were often made at that time to the College of Physicians as to surgeons practising medicine, and, perhaps in consequence of some such difficulty, Banister in 1593 obtained a royal letter of recommendation which led the college to grant him a license (15 Feb. 1593–4) on the condition that in dangerous cases he should call in one of its fellows. Banister was famed for his kindness to the poor, especially to old soldiers, and for his extensive professional reading. He edited Wecker, with corrections, ‘A Compendious Chyrurgerie gathered and translated (especially) out of Wecker,’ 12mo, London, 1585. He compiled a collection of remedies and prescriptions, ‘An Antidotarie Chyrurgicall,’ London, 1589, in which he acknowledges the generous help of his contemporaries, George Baker [q. v.], Balthrop, ​Clowes, and Goodrus. He also published in folio 'The History of Man, sucked from the Sap of the most approved Anatomists, 9 books, London, 1578.' Calametius, Tagaltius, and Wecker, three dry and unprofitable writers on surgery, form the basis of his writings. No cases from his own practice are given, and neither domestic history nor interesting examples of style are to be found in his pedantic pages. He lived in Silver Street (Antidotarie), and was buried in the church of St. Olave in that street, since destroyed, with the record of his death, in the great fire. He had a long epitaph in English verse, which bears sufficient resemblance to some poems of Clowes to make it likely that it was written for Banister's tomb by his old friend. In 1633, some time after Banister s death, a collected edition of his surgical works was published, 'The Workes of that Famous Chyrurgian, Mr. John Banester,' in six books.
N. M.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Banister, William

1904 Errata appended.
​BANISTER, Sir WILLIAM (d. 1721), judge, was a student of the Middle Temple, and received the coif in 1706. For a few years he was one of the judges of South Wales, and through the friendship of Lord Chancellor Harcourt was promoted in June 1713 to be a baron of the exchequer, when he was knighted. On the accession of George I, Lord Chancellor Cowper, in his proposals for reforming the judicial staff, advised the removal of Banister as being ‘a man not at all qualified for the place’ (Campbell's Lives of the Lord Chancellors, iv. 350), and on 14 Oct. 1714 he was accordingly removed (Lord Raymond's Reports, 1261, 1318). His public career and his private life appear to have been equally devoid of general interest. Turk Dean in Gloucestershire ‘descended to him from his ancestors,’ and he possessed ‘a great estate in this and other places’ (Atkyn's Gloucestershire, 787). He died at Turk Dean on 21 Jan. 1720–1, and was buried in the parish church, where there is a memorial to him (Hist. Reg. 1721, Chron. Diary, p. 6).
G. V. B.
Dictionary of National Biography, Errata (1904), p.14 N.B.— f.e. stands for from end and l.l. for last line
| Page | Col. | Line | |
| 120 | ii | 4 | Banister, Sir William: for (fl. 1713) read (d. 1721) |
| | | 27 | after 787) insert He died at Turk Dean on 21 Jan. 1720-1, and was buried in the church there (Hist. Reg. 1721, Chron. Diary, p. 6). |
# Darkwater/The Call

The Call
In the Land of the Heavy Laden came once a dreary day. And the King, who sat upon the Great White Throne, raised his eyes and saw afar off how the hills around were hot with hostile feet and the sound of the mocking of his enemies struck anxiously on the King's ears, for the King loved his enemies. So the King lifted up his hand in the glittering silence and spake softly, saying: "Call the Servants of the King." Then the herald stepped before the armpost of the throne, and cried: "Thus saith the High and Mighty One, who inhabiteth Eternity, whose name is Holy,—the Servants of the King!"
Now, of the servants of the king there were a hundred and forty-four thousand, tried men and brave, brawny of arm and quick of wit; aye, too, and women of wisdom and women marvelous in beauty and grace. And yet on this drear day when the King called, their ears were thick with the dust of the enemy, their eyes were blinded with the flashing of his spears, and they hid their faces in dread silence and moved not, even at the King's behest. So the herald called again. And the servants cowered in very shame, but none came forth. But the third blast of the herald struck upon a woman's heart, afar. And the woman straightway left her baking and sweeping and the rattle of pans; and the woman straightway left her chatting and gossiping and the sewing of garments, and the woman stood before the King, saying: "The servant of thy servants, O Lord."
Then the King smiled,—smiled wondrously, so that the setting sun burst through the clouds, and the hearts of the King's men dried hard within them. And the ​low-voiced King said, so low that even they that listened heard not well: "Go, smite me mine enemies, that they cease to do evil in my sight." And the woman quailed and trembled. Three times she lifted her eyes unto the hills and saw the heathen whirling onward in their rage. And seeing, she shrank—three times she shrank and crept to the King's feet.
"O King," she cried, "I am but a woman."
And the King answered: "Go, then, Mother of Men."
And the woman said, "Nay, King, but I am still a maid." Whereat the King cried: "O maid, made Man, thou shalt be Bride of God."
And yet the third time the woman shrank at the thunder in her ears, and whispered: "Dear God, I am black!"
The King spake not, but swept the veiling of his face aside and lifted up the light of his countenance upon her and lo! it was black.
So the woman went forth on the hills of God to do battle for the King, on that drear day in the land of the Heavy Laden, when the heathen raged and imagined a vain thing.
# Darkwater/The Prayers of God

The Prayers of God
Name of God's Name!
Red murder reigns;
All hell is loose;
On gold autumnal air
Walk grinning devils, barbed and hoofed;
While high on hills of hate,
Black-blossomed, crimson-sky'd,
Thou sittest, dumb.
Father Almighty!
This earth is mad!
Palsied, our cunning hands;
Rotten, our gold;
Our argosies reel and stagger
Over empty seas;
All the long aisles
Of Thy Great Temples, God,
Stink with the entrails
Of our souls.
And Thou art dumb.
Above the thunder of Thy Thunders, Lord,
Lightening Thy Lightnings,
Rings and roars
The dark damnation
Of this hell of war.
Red piles the pulp of hearts and heads
And little children's hands.
Allah!
Elohim!
Very God of God!
Death is here!
Dead are the living; deep-dead the dead.
Dying are earth's unborn—
The babes' wide eyes of genius and of joy,
Poems and prayers, sun-glows and earth-songs,
Great-pictured dreams,
Enmarbled phantasies,
High hymning heavens—all
In this dread night
Writhe and shriek and choke and die
This long ghost-night—
While Thou art dumb.
Have mercy!
Have mercy upon us, miserable sinners!
Stand forth, unveil Thy Face,
Pour down the light
That seethes above Thy Throne,
And blaze this devil's dance to darkness!
Hear!
Speak!
In Christ's Great Name—
I hear!
Forgive me, God!
Above the thunder I hearkened;
Beneath the silence, now,—
I hear!
(Wait, God, a little space.
It is so strange to talk with Thee—
Alone!)
This gold?
I took it.
Is it Thine?
Forgive; I did not know. ​Blood? Is it wet with blood?
'Tis from my brother's hands.
(I know; his hands are mine.)
It flowed for Thee, O Lord.
War? Not so; not war—
Dominion, Lord, and over black, not white;
Black, brown, and fawn,
And not Thy Chosen Brood, O God,
We murdered.
To build Thy Kingdom,
To drape our wives and little ones,
And set their souls a-glitter—
For this we killed these lesser breeds
And civilized their dead,
Raping red rubber, diamonds, cocoa, gold!
For this, too, once, and in Thy Name,
I lynched a Nigger—
(He raved and writhed,
I heard him cry,
I felt the life-light leap and lie,
I saw him crackle there, on high,
I watched him wither!)
Thou?
Thee?
I lynched Thee?
Awake me, God! I sleep!
What was that awful word Thou saidst?
That black and riven thing—was it Thee?
That gasp—was it Thine?
This pain—is it Thine?
Are, then, these bullets piercing Thee?
Have all the wars of all the world, ​Down all dim time, drawn blood from Thee?
Have all the lies and thefts and hates—
Is this Thy Crucifixion, God,
And not that funny, little cross,
With vinegar and thorns?
Is this Thy kingdom here, not there,
This stone and stucco drift of dreams?
Help!
I sense that low and awful cry—
Who cries?
Who weeps?
With silent sob that rends and tears—
Can God sob?
Who prays?
I hear strong prayers throng by,
Like mighty winds on dusky moors—
Can God pray?
Prayest Thou, Lord, and to me?
Thou needest me?
Thou needest me?
Thou needest me?
Poor, wounded soul!
Of this I never dreamed. I thought—
Courage, God,
I come!
# Darkwater/Credo

Credo
I believe in God, who made of one blood all nations that on earth do dwell. I believe that all men, black and brown and white, are brothers, varying through time and opportunity, in form and gift and feature, but differing in no essential particular, and alike in soul and the possibility of infinite development.
Especially do I believe in the Negro Race: in the beauty of its genius, the sweetness of its soul, and its strength in that meekness which shall yet inherit this turbulent earth.
I believe in Pride of race and lineage and self: in pride of self so deep as to scorn injustice to other selves; in pride of lineage so great as to despise no man's father; in pride of race so chivalrous as neither to offer bastardy to the weak nor beg wedlock of the strong, knowing that men may be brothers in Christ, even though they be not brothers-in-law.
I believe in Service—humble, reverent service, from the blackening of boots to the whitening of souls; for Work is Heaven, Idleness Hell, and Wage is the "Well done!" of the Master, who summoned all them that labor and are heavy laden, making no distinction between the black, sweating cotton hands of Georgia and the first families of Virginia, since all distinction not based on deed is devilish and not divine.
I believe in the Devil and his angels, who wantonly work to narrow the opportunity of struggling human beings, especially if they be black; who spit in the faces of the fallen, strike them that cannot strike again, believe the worst and work to prove it, hating the image which their Maker stamped on a brother's soul.
​I believe in the Prince of Peace. I believe that War is Murder. I believe that armies and navies are at bottom the tinsel and braggadocio of oppression and wrong, and I believe that the wicked conquest of weaker and darker nations by nations whiter and stronger but foreshadows the death of that strength.
I believe in Liberty for all men: the space to stretch their arms and their souls, the right to breathe and the right to vote, the freedom to choose their friends, enjoy the sunshine, and ride on the railroads, uncursed by color; thinking, dreaming, working as they will in a kingdom of beauty and love.
I believe in the Training of Children, black even as white; the leading out of little souls into the green pastures and beside the still waters, not for pelf or peace, but for life lit by some large vision of beauty and goodness and truth; lest we forget, and the sons of the fathers, like Esau, for mere meat barter their birthright in a mighty nation.
Finally, I believe in Patience—patience with the weakness of the Weak and the strength of the Strong, the prejudice of the Ignorant and the ignorance of the Blind; patience with the tardy triumph of Joy and the mad chastening of Sorrow; patience with God!
# Darkwater/Postscript

POSTSCRIPT
These are the things of which men think, who live: of their own selves and the dwelling place of their fathers; of their neighbors; of work and service; of rule and reason and women and children; of Beauty and Death and War. To this thinking I have only to add a point of view: I have been in the world, but not of it. I have seen the human drama from a veiled corner, where all the outer tragedy and comedy have reproduced themselves in microcosm within. From this inner torment of souls the human scene without has interpreted itself to me in unusual and even illuminating ways. For this reason, and this alone, I venture to write again on themes on which great souls have already said greater words, in the hope that I may strike here and there a half-tone, newer even if slighter, up from the heart of my problem and the problems of my people.
Between the sterner flights of logic, I have sought to set some little alightings of what may be poetry. They are tributes to Beauty, unworthy to stand alone; yet perversely, in my mind, now at the end, I know not whether I mean the Thought for the Fancy—or the Fancy for the Thought, or why the book trails off to playing, rather than standing strong on unanswering fact. But this is alway—is it not?—the Riddle of Life.
​Many of my words appear here transformed from other publications and I thank the Atlantic, the Independent, the Crisis, and the Journal of Race Development for letting me use them again.
W. E. Burghardt Du Bois.
New York, 1919.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Beechey, George D.

​BEECHEY, GEORGE D. (fl. 1817–1855), portrait painter, was a son of Sir William Beechey, R.A. [q.v.], whose profession and style he followed. He exhibited first at the Royal Academy in 1817, and continued to do so through several subsequent years, having many sitters so long as his father's influence lasted; but about 1830 the rapid decline in the number of his commissions induced him to leave England and proceed to Calcutta, whence he sent to the Royal Academy in 1832 a portrait of 'Hinda,' an Indian lady whom he married. He afterwards went to Lucknow, where he attained great celebrity and became court painter and controller of the household to the king of Oudh. He is believed to have been living in India in 1855, and to have died before the mutiny of 1857.
[Redgrave's Dictionary of Artists, 1878; Bryan's Dictionary of Painters and Engravers, ed. Graves, 1884.]
R. E. G.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Beeard, Richard

​BEEARD, BEARD, or BERDE, RICHARD (fl. 1553–1574), author, was admitted to the rectory of St. Mary Hill, London, 31 May 1560, and was deprived of the living in 1574. He was the author of:
* 'A Godly Psalm of Mary Queen,' with psalm tunes in four parts, 1553.
* 'Alphabetum primum Beeardi,' a poem of fifty-six short lines printed as a broadside, without date, by William Copland.
* An untitled piece of verse of forty-four lines, signed by Beeard, beginning 'M. Harry Whobals man to M. Camel greetes,' printed on a sheet without place, printer's name, or date.
A copy of the first is in Trinity College Library, Cambridge, and copies of the last two are in the library of the Society of Antiquaries. In Strype's 'Annals,' iv. 512-516, the dedication to Queen Elizabeth of a manuscript work by Richard Beard 'concerning the doctrine of justification' is printed at length.
[Newcourt's Repertorium, i. 451; Hazlitt's Handbook to Literature, p. 34; Ritson's Bibliographia Poetica, 129; Lemon's Catal. of Broadsides, 10-11.]
S. L. L.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Beedome, Thomas

​BEEDOME, THOMAS (d. 1641?) poet, is the author of a scarce little volume of verses, posthumously published in 1641 under the title of 'Poems Divine and Humane,' 12mo. The collection was edited by Henry Glapthorne, the dramatist and poet, who prefixed a short prose address 'to the reader,' which is followed by commendatory verses of Ed. May, Henry Glapthorne (in English and Latin), W. C[hamberlaine ?], Em. D. (two copies), H. S., H. P., R. W., J. S., Tho. Nabbes, and Fran. Beedome (the author's brother). The chief poem in the collection is entitled 'The Jealous Lover, or the Constant Maid;' it is a juvenile performance (in six-line stanzas), showing some smoothness of versification. Songs, epistles, epigrams, elegies, and devotional poems follow. Two epigrams are addressed 'to Sir Henry Wotten, Knight,' another is in praise of Wither. There are also epigrams 'to his deare friend William Harrington,' 'to the heroicall Captaine Thomas James' (two), and 'to the memory of his honoured friend, Master John Donne, an Eversary.' The author appears to have died at an early age, and of his life nothing is known. His poems have very little value; but the poetaster Henry Bold seems to have thought well of them, for the first fifty pages of his 'Wit a Sporting,' 1657, are taken verbatim from Beedome's book. A copy of commendatory verses by Beedome is prefixed to Farley's 'Light's Morall Emblems,' 1638.
A. H. B.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Beecham, John

​BEECHAM, JOHN, D.D. (1787–1856), was born at Barnoldby-le-Beck, near Great Grimsby, Lincolnshire, in 1787. His father died at Waltham while he was a child. He was educated privately under a clergyman, the incumbent of the neighbouring parish of Irby. His friends desired him to become a clergyman in the established church. Young Beecham, however, preferred to join the methodists. After a short period of preparation he became, in 1815, an itinerant preacher in the Wesleyan community, and soon reached a position of influence. He showed a thorough mastery of the principles of Wesleyan methodism in his 'Essay on the Constitution of Wesleyan Methodism,' and in his writings and speeches on the work of missions. He was appointed in 1831 to the office of general secretary of the Wesleyan Missionary Society, and displayed great ability in administering its affairs at the mission house, in counselling its agents all over the world, and in advocating its claims. In 1850 he was elected to the presidency of the Wesleyan conference, and fulfilled the duties of that onerous position in a time of great anxiety and trouble with dignity and grace. Dr. Beecham's later years were largely occupied in the formation of new methodist conferences in North America and in Australia. His wife died in 1853. Their family consisted of one son and two daughters. He died in London 22 April 1856, aged 68.
The following are his principal literary works:
* 'An Essay on the Constitution of Wesleyan Methodism,' 3rd edition, London, 1851.
* 'Ashantee and the Gold Coast; a Sketch of the History of those Countries,' London, 1841.
* 'Colonisation,' London, 1838.
[Minutes of the Methodist Conferences, vol. xiii.; Memoir in Wesleyan Methodist Magazine for 1856; Osborn's Bibliography.]
W. B. L.