Richard Ryan (biographer)
[7] Joshua Bryant (born c.1782) was an acclaimed artist [8] and map engraver [9] and exhibited at the Royal Academy of Arts from 1798 onwards and also produced illustrations for books, including Buildings on the south side of New Palace Yard [10] in Antiquities of Westminster by John Thomas Smith (engraver) (1807) of which R.Ryan's bookshop was listed as a main seller of the book.
He took the opportunity to add a catalogue section at the back of the book with more than 100 listings of Works relative to the History, Antiquities, and the Language of Ireland on sale in his bookshop.
[18][19] Following the success of his first literary effort, Ryan focused on publishing several books of poems and creating biographical dictionaries of his passions: Dramatic Table Talk about the theatre, followed by Poetry and Poets.
[21] In November 1824 the Time's Telescope; The Astronomer's, Botanist's and Naturalist's Guide, for the year 1825 (8vo) featured a 62-page article on English Sacred Poetry by him.
[39] The Invisible Witness is another play listed as being written by Ryan on the title page of Quite at Home but it is unknown where it was performed.
When it came to be my own, by the demise of my father in July 1818, I declined following, having initiated a taste for Literary Composition and which I cultivated by writing pieces of Poetry on various subjects for the newspapers – these were the produce of my leisure hours.
Of this work prior to commencing it, I had dreamt rather a "golden dream" ...Three pages of the journal were saved by his family along with many newspaper clippings of his poems that were kept by him at the time, several of which were submitted (or published) anonymously, or under the initials R.R., but subsequently signed.
In the next entry in the journal, written presumably in 1821 but undated, he writes: "I now for the first time in my life began to think that I shant not clear a fortune by my first literary undertaking."
This determination however I was induced to change two years approximately afterwards by my printer consenting to take the expenses on himself provided I would finish the work in one more volume.
[70] In March 1835 he was jailed in King's Bench Prison, Southwark, for debt and his family's situation was described in letters to the Literary Fund by Ryan's referees as 'critical' as they had lost everything, including their furniture, with neighbours lending them beds.
The applications to the Fund, held in the British Library, have revealed several previously uncredited works by Ryan.
[71] In around 1844 he sold the family home and moved into rented accommodation at 5 Pratt Street, Camden Town (now number 9).
His eldest son Richard Jr had a "paralysis-type disability", possibly autism, living at home unable to work until around 1846,[72] or in accommodation nearby,[73] until 1849.
In 1827 Elizabeth, Richard's mother, sold her late husband's extensive collection of books about Ireland to Croker for £50, and wrote to him following the sale.
When Ryan was jailed in 1835 for debt he continued to write poetry and prose for publication from the prison, sending articles to Croker and asking him to forward them to Fraser's Magazine.
"[81] The words in the newspaper were almost identical to those giving approval for the last payment made by the Literary Fund to his widow after his death.
It spoke not of human hopes and fears, That o'ercloud time's hours flying, But it told of the dead of former years That in ocean's bed were lying!
A voice from the waves in the dead of night Sung melodious o'er my pillow, As I lay on my couch in slumber light, Lull'd to rest by the heaving billow!
soprano I come from the deep, I come from the deep, Where the seaflower gently uncloses, Where fiery youth hath a dreamless sleep, And the warrior in calmness reposes Where the parent and child lie side by side, Doom'd by destiny ne'er to sever; Where the husband fond, and his new made bride, In death's embrace are clasp'd forever!
Each wave rolls over the burial place Of earth's children in countless numbers, Of ev'ry hue, and clime, and race Where no tempest can break their slumbers.
duett The voice was hush'd, the vision fled, But my heart felt a pang of sorrow, Till the daystar o'er me, her bright beams shed, Commencing a glorious morrow!
