Born, at Nunappleton, Yorkshire, 22 Aug. 1810. Educated at Eton till 1828. Matric. Ch. Ch., Oxford, 6 June 1828; B.A., 1832; B.C.L., 1843; M.A., 1847; Fellow of All Souls Coll., 1835–45. Student of Inner Temple, 11 Oct. 1832; called to Bar, 17 Nov. 1837. Succeeded to Baronetcy on his father’s death, 6 Nov. 1839. Married Sidney Williams-Wynn, 12 Dec. 1844. Prof. of Poetry, Oxford, and Fellowship (for second time) at All Souls’ Coll., 1867–77; created D.C.L., 11 Dec. 1877. Receiver-General of Customs, 1846–69; Commissioner of Customs, 1869–83. Died, 8 June 1888. Works: “Miscellaneous Verses,” 1834; “The Two Destinies,” 1844; “The Duke’s Funeral” [1852]; “The Return of the Guards, and other Poems,” 1886; “Lectures delivered before the University of Oxford, 1868,” 1869; “Lectures on Poetry…. Second series,” 1877; “Robin Hood’s Bay,” 1878; “Reminiscences and Opinions,” 1886. He translated: Sophocles’ “Œdipus Tyrannus,” 1849.
Personal
The “reminiscences” of Sir Francis are much pleasanter reading than his political “opinions.” As might have been surmised from the martial enthusiasm which inspires the best of his poems, he is born of a race of soldiers.
Doyle was naturally indolent, but at times he could be very industrious…. As a young man he had the character of being somewhat eccentric, which, however, amounted to nothing more than this, that with undoubted gifts of genius, he was apt to betray an innocent superiority to conventional forms and usages, so that on occasions when it was necessary for him to appear in a strictly proper and becoming dress he was fain to call in the aid of his friend Hope to tie his neckcloth, just as my uncle the poet was wont to have recourse to his wife and daughter for similar purposes.
General
He too is of the reflective and not the impassioned school of poetry, and has evidently sat, an admiring disciple, at the feet of Wordsworth, whom he has commemorated in a graceful and pleasing sonnet. The reader will not find in his pages that marked originality and creative power which are the indications of a great poet, but he will not turn aside from them, if he will be content to derive pleasure from communing with a mind, that is accustomed to reflect and observe, that thinks always correctly and sometimes vigorously, that is not unfruitful in images of gentle beauty and delicate grace, and which utters its sentiments in flowing verse and in the language of a scholar. He does not appear to have written poetry from an irresistible impulse, but to have cultivated the accomplishment of verse as a graceful appendage to other intellectual employments and exercises, and an agreeable relaxation from graver and severer studies. Consequently his poems have no marked individuality, and no peculiar characteristics to distinguish them from others of the same class; but they please us by a more than common proportion of those poetical conceptions and capacities which are found, in a greater or less degree, in every person of refined taste and cultivated habits, of thought. Perhaps their most distinctive attributes are a certain delicacy of sentiment showing a mind of uncommon fineness of organization, and with a more than common proportion of feminine elements, a taste for ideal forms of beauty, and an instinctive repugnance to every thing low, unhandsome, and debasing. His poetry is of that kind, which inspires us with much respect for the personal character of the author.
No reader of Sir Francis Doyle’s poems will need to be told that he is an enthusiastic lover of horses. His poem on the “Doncaster St. Leger” is not only a most spirited and exciting presentation of the incidents of a great race, but, so far as we know, it is unique of its kind in English literature. It shows how much stirring poetry can be elicited from the most prosaic occurrences when there is a poet’s eye present to discern it.
His gifts were so great and varied, one almost fancies greater than his use of them, and he gave this same impression from his Eton days, as the letters of Arthur Hallam, Mr. Gladstone, and my father-in-law seem to me to show. He leaves some lyrics which will, I think, live long.
Amongst modern poets Sir Francis Hastings Doyle, Bart., gained an important place, and made some lasting contributions to English poetry. Several of his poems are familiar to readers in the North of England, having special local interest. His best known productions are “The Private of the Buffs,” “The Loss of the Birkenhead,” and “The Spanish Mother.”
Author of some interesting reminiscences in prose, and in verse of some of the best songs and poems on military subjects to be found in the language.
Doyle is distinguished for the spirit and the martial ring of the ballads in which he celebrates deeds of daring. “The Red Thread of Honour,” “The Private of the Buffs,” and “Mehrab Khan” are pieces that take high rank among poems inspired by sympathy with the heroism of the soldier.
Sprung from a family many of whom had been famous as men of action, Doyle cherished a supreme admiration of heroism as well as a strong love of country. His poetic work is chiefly remarkable for his treatment of the ballad, a form of expression used by many English poets, and particularly by his favourite author, Sir Walter Scott. While these, however, had made the ballad archaic both in subject and expression, Doyle employed it for the treatment of contemporary events, and showed that modern deeds of national bravery were “as susceptible as any in the far past of free ballad treatment, with all the old freshness directness, and simplicity.” His method has been successfully followed by subsequent writers…. At the same time it would convey a false impression not to observe that most of his work was commonplace pedestrian, and that though he often showed genuine poetic feeling he seldom found for it adequate expression. His verse is generally mechanical, rarely instinct with life or transfused with emotion.
