ISEDDOES, LOVELL TnomAs, eldest son of Dr. Thomas B., and of Anna, third daughter of Richard Lovell Edgeworth, of Edgeworthstown, Ireland, sister of Maria Edgeworth, the distinguished novelist, was b. at Rodney place, Clifton, on the 20th July, 1803. In 1809, Dr. Beddoes died, leaving his son to the guardianship of Mr. Davies Giddy, who, under his after-name of sir Davies Gilbert, became the president of the royal society. By this gentleman, young B. was placed at the Bath grammar school; from thence, in 1817, he removed to the Charter house; and in May, 1820, he entered as a commoner at Pembroke college, Oxford. In 1821 he published the Improvisatore. On this, his earliest poetic offspring, he looked with no favor at a later period, and was i wont to hunt after stray copies in the libraries of his friends, and to disembowel them mercilessly when he effected a capture. In 1822, he published Bride's Tragedy, which achieved for its author a great reputation. In 1824, lie went to G5ttingen to rktudy medicine, and from this time forthcontinued to live in Germany and Switzerland, with occasional visits to England. While engaged at Frankfort (1847) in dissecting, he received a slight wound, which was the mbaus of infusing a noxious virus into his sys tem. His health now beg,an to fail. In 1848, he went to Basel, where he fell from his
horse, and injured his leg. An amputation following, he died on tho 26th Jan., 1849, and was buried in the cemetery of the hospital.
During his wanderings in Germany, B. was engaged at intervals in the composition of a drama entitled Death's Jest-book. This work, together with his other manuscripts, consisting chiefly of poetry, he, on his death-bed, confided to the care of a friend in Eng land, desiring him to use his discretion as to their publication. In consequence, in 1851, his poetical works, with a memoir attached, appeared in two volumes. The merits of these dramatic fragments are quite peculiar. The author exhibits no power of charac terization, no ability in the conduct of a story; and, on the other hand, the crush of thought and image, the tone of music, and the depth of color, are quite wonderful. Mr. B. never could have become a dramatist, and of this, during his later years, he seems to have become aware. His works pall with splendor, and are monotonous by very richness. They are like a wilderness where nature has been allowed to pour herself forth in all tier waste and tropical excess, unrestrained by a pruning hand, and unpierced by any path.