PASSAGES
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CHARLES KNIGHT
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University of
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Libraries

1817
ARTE S SCIENTIA VERITAS
PASSAGES OF A WORKING
LIFE
DURING HALF A CENTURY:
WITH
3 Prelude of Early Reminiscences.
BY
CHARLES KNIGHT.
"Let us be content in work
To do the thing we can, and not presume
To fret because it's little.”
ELIZABETH BROWNING. Aurora Leigh.
VOLUME I.
LONDON:
BRADBURY & EVANS, 11, BOUVERIE STREET.
1364.
LONDON:
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
P
Z
695
кья
PREFACE.
A 35
V.l

N 1862 I received an intimation from the
proprietor of the "Windsor and Eton Ex-
press," that, on the following first of
August, the newspaper so called would
have completed the fiftieth year of its publication.
The fact was an interesting one to me.
That news-
paper was established by my father and myself; my.
proprietary interest in it lasted for fourteen years;
and I continued to be its editor till the end of 1826,
as I had been from its commencement.
Looking back upon the August of 1812, at
which time my working life really commenced, it
occurred to me that there were passages of that
working life of fifty years which might have an
interest for a wider circle than that of my family
and my immediate friends, if presented without
the tedious egotism of a formal Auto-Biography.
During that period my social position has not
materially altered, and I have not had the advan-
tage of seeing "life in many lands." I have there-
fore no startling incidents to relate, and no great
variety of scenes to describe. My occupation has
A 2
iv
PREFACE.
been that of a publisher and a writer. But, in
the course of my long connection with the Press
(I use this word in its most extended meaning), I
have been brought into communication with many
eminent persons, and have been somewhat exten-
sively mixed up with vast changes in the social
condition of the people, in the progress of which
elementary education and popular literature have
been amongst the most efficient instruments of
amelioration.
But before I start upon a long journey-broken,
however, into several stages,—it may give a com-
pleteness to my narrative if I put together some
earlier Reminiscences of circumstances by which I
was surrounded, from the beginning of the century,
in my childhood and my advance to manhood. The
first steps of self-formation are, I think, always
interesting to follow, however uneventful may be
the subsequent career of an individual. But my
early days at Windsor have a wider interest, as
they made me familiar with the outward manifes-
tations of the simple life of George the Third and
his Court-an old-fashioned life of publicity, which
wholly passed away in the seclusion of the next
reign, when the King was seldom seen by his people,
much less living among them in a sort of family
intimacy, such as I had looked upon from my
humble point of observation. In 1810, the regal
aspect of Windsor was wholly changed by the
illness of the King. In 1812, when I put on the
PREFACE.
V
responsibilities of full age, the Regent was invested
with unrestricted power. There never was a more
eventful period in the history of our country than
the first twelve years of the Nineteenth Century.
They were calculated to produce a strong and
abiding impression upon the mind of a thoughtful
youth, whose local associations were suggestive of
past dangers and triumphs-of the Blenheim of
Anne and the Crecy of Edward. Moreover, as I
advanced towards manhood, there was an outburst.
of literature, which stirred my spirit with a new
power. If, in recording my impressions of this
memorable era, I should be able to recal some of
the enthusiasm of the passing time, I may not be
without the hope of imparting an interest to the
Reminiscences of a solitary boy and an obscure
young man.
The half-century of active employment which I
look back upon is divided, in my retrospection, into
three epochs. I shall regard them as stages in my
journey of life; not always caring thus to measure
my progress by any extreme nicety of dates; and not
suddenly halting when the interest of a subject carries
me forward to its natural close.
I. From 1812 to the end of 1822, my chief occu-
pation was that of a journalist at Windsor. But
my duties were not wholly limited to that narrow
range, although in tracing my course as the editor
of a local paper I may regard some circumstances as
of peculiar interest. The political aspects of that
vi
PREFACE.
period are not pleasant to review; when the
thoughtful man saw as much to be apprehended
from an unsympathising Government as from a dis-
contented people. In 1820 I made my first attempt
in publishing a Cheap Miscellany; and I have to esti-
mate what Popular Literature was, at a period when
the majority looked upon Books for the Many as a
very dangerous experiment in giving a direction to
the newly-diffused art of reading. At this period,
also, of strong political excitement, I was induced to
accept the editorship of a London Weekly News-
paper. My area of observation was thus somewhat
enlarged. My aim was to make "The Guardian” as
much a literary as a political paper; and I thus in-
cidentally acquired a familiarity with the Periodical
Literature of a time when Magazines were becoming
more original and more influential. I also gained
some insight into the general commerce of books in
that closing era of high prices. During this period
one of the pleasantest occupations of my Windsor
life opened to me, as the printer and publisher of
"The Etonian." This circumstance led to my in-
tercourse with that most remarkable knot of Cam-
bridge students who became the chief contributors
to "
Knight's Quarterly Magazine." It may be suffi-
cient to mention the names of Macaulay, Praed,
Sidney Walker, Henry Nelson Coleridge (of these I
may, unhappily, speak without reserve), and add
those of Derwent Coleridge, Henry Malden, and
John Moultrie, to give an abiding interest to such
PREFACE.
vi
remembrances. "The Quarterly Magazine" chiefly
led to my establishment as a London publisher in
the season of 1823. Through this year, and in
1824, I was occupied in the literary and commercial
management of that work, which was concluded after
the publication of six numbers. A second series was
subsequently undertaken; but this attempt at a
revival was of too solid a character fitly to succeed
its brilliant predecessor.
II. I had been gradually extending my field of
business as a publisher of Miscellaneous Books, and
was not without the support of persons of reputation
and influence. Yet my experience of the risk of
miscellaneous publishing became in a year or two
somewhat discouraging. In 1826, I had to struggle,
in common with many others of my craft, against
the depression in value of all literary property. But
in this period of difficulty I was endeavouring to
mature several plans for wholly and systematically
devoting myself to cheap Popular Literature. Some
of the seed thus prepared was ultimately sown.
In 1827 I became connected with the Society for
the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge; and soon after
edited and published "The British Almanac" and
Companion," and "The Library of Entertaining
Knowledge." Through twenty years—until, indeed,
the Society thought that the time was come when
individual enterprise would accomplish all that they
had attempted-I was more or less connected with
this memorable Association. My remembrances will
viii
PREFACE.
embrace whatever, without violation of confidence,
may
be related of this connection. I need not here
particularise the eminent persons with whom I was
brought into contact, in carrying forward the works
which were entrusted to my care as Publisher, and
in several cases as Editor. Other important works
were undertaken by me without the support of the
Society's reputation. I availed myself—perhaps
more than most of the publishers of that period—of
the revived process of wood-engraving, to diffuse
popular Art as well as popular Literature. In this
species of enterprise "The Penny Magazine" led the
way. "The Pictorial Bible" was the most successful
of the more permanent class of such publications ;
the "Thousand and one Nights" was the most
beautiful. The "Pictorial History of England" was
followed by the "Pictorial Shakspere," which was
the most congenial undertaking of my literary life;
and then by the "London." This series of years,
which brought with them unabated literary labour
and most anxious commercial responsibility, were
not without their enjoyments of pleasant and remu-
nerating work. They afforded me the consolation
that I was performing a public good, when I bore
up, unaided, under the heavy load of "The Penny
Cyclopædia," overweighted by taxation. This was
the most busy and the most interesting period of
my working life; and its interest is heightened
beyond measure to myself by the consideration that
this epoch was the great turning-point in our poli-
PREFACE.
ix
tical and social history; that it was a period of
wonderful progress; and that many of the distin-
guished men with whom I was associated can never
be separated, by the future historian, from the
course of that peaceful revolution which has made
the institutions of the country in harmony with
the advance of intelligence, and has identified the
interests and the wishes of the rulers and of the
nation. In this period, also, I became officially con-
nected, as a Publisher, with those who originated and
carried forward the Amendment of the Poor-Law
and other cognate reforms; and I was thus neces-
sarily called upon to give a close attention to the
principles and practical working of measures which
have so materially improved the Condition of the
People.
III. My third epoch is one of comparative repose.
I edited and published the extensive series of the
"Weekly Volume." I had opportunities of seeing
much of the actual condition of the country in
editing "The Land we Live in," during the transi-
tion period of Free Trade. I assisted as Publisher
in the great sanitary measures which had assumed
fresh importance. Gradually I withdrew from any
novel undertakings involving considerable risk; for
I found that the new competition of excessive cheap-
ness, without regard to the quality of the reading
made cheap, was not suited to the habits in which
I had been so long trained. But I had still to
look for happiness in work. I had to become more
X
PREFACE.
:
a writer and editor than a publisher. A few separate
volumes were published for me by Mr. Murray.
Larger undertakings, connected with copyrights
which I had retained, or was to create, were pub-
lished by Messrs. Bradbury & Evans. I was thus
relieved from the minor cares of business, and, having
a just confidence in those to whom my interests
were committed, I could work more efficiently at
my responsible duties as author and conductor.
The nature of my writings was such that I had to
look upon the various phases of Society in the Past,
and so, by comparison, to estimate the Present more
accurately and impartially than a view mainly
directed to current things might attain. Whilst
engaged in writing the History of my Country, I
had also to keep a steady eye upon the general
characteristics of its progress-political, social, scien-
tific, and literary; for I was occupied in reproducing,
with large additions, that Cyclopædia of which I had
been the proprietor and publisher under the Society
for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. In this
evening of my life I had the happiness to become
intimate with many who were eminent in the imagi-
native walks of Literature; and I learnt, more com-
pletely than I knew before, that it is not only the
scientific and the philosophical who are advancing,
by their writings, the moral and intellectual develop-
ments of a nation.
In thus producing my memorials of Men and
Books, of Social Progress and Changing Manners, I
PREFACE.
xi
may be considered as risking the indulgence of the
garrulous egotism of advanced years. I hope that
the form of "Passages" will keep me from many
of the usual faults of Auto-Biography. I shall
prefer to speak of others rather than of myself. I
shall endeavour to deal with public realities rather
than with transient moods of my own mind. I
have undertaken a survey of a "long tract of time,”
and, having often to rely upon my memory, may
have to ask the indulgence of the reader if he
discover any mistakes in dates, or any confusion in
the relation of one circumstance to another. I never
kept a diary. I am not sure that I should have had
a clearer view of the leading Passages of my life if
I had done so. I was not always careful in pre-
serving letters. Yet somehow I feel as if I could
find my way through labyrinths which might be
impenetrable in their obscurity, were it not for
associations which conduct me onward, even as the
Indian can see his road by old footmarks which
he alone can recognise.
+
November 11, 1863.
CHARLES KNIGHT.
CONTENTS.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:-A PRELUDE:
SECTION I.
SECTION II.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE.
PAGE
17
67
THE FIRST EPOCH:
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
105
127
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
152
179
CHAPTER V.
205
CHAPTER VI.
234
CHAPTER VII. .
258
•
CHAPTER VIII.
280
CHAPTER IX.
296
CHAPTER X.
315
EARLY REMINISCENCES.
I Prelude.
PASSAGES, &c.
EARLY REMINISCENCES: A PRELUDE.
SECTION I.

IN the night of the thirty-first of December,
1800, I had gone to bed with a vague
fear that I should be awakened by a
terrific noise which would shake the
house more than the loudest thunder-clap, and
would produce such a concussion of the air as
would break every window-pane in Windsor town.
The house in which my father lived, and in which I
was born, was close to the great entrance to the
lower ward of Windsor Castle, called, after its
builder, Henry the Eighth's gateway. I crept down
in the dawning of that first day of the year to a sit-
ting room which commanded a view of the Round
Tower. The aspect of that room was eastern. I
watched the gradual reddening of the sky; and I
momently expected to see a flash from one of the
many cannon mounted on the Tower, and to hear
that roar from those mighty pieces of ordnance which
was to produce such alarming consequences. I knew
not then that these guns were only four-pounders,
and that if all the seventeen had been fired at once
the windows would most probably have been safe.
I watched and watched till the sun was high. It was
VOL. I.
B
18
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
then reported that the King had ordered there should
be no discharge of the cannon of the keep, for the
new painted window by Mr. West, at the east end of
St. George's Chapel, might be broken by the concus-
sion. There was no boom of artillery; but the bells
of the belfry of St. George's Chapel and the bells of
the parish church rang out a merry peal-not so
much to welcome the coming of the new year and
beginning of the new century (for the learned had
settled, after a vast deal of popular controversy, that
the century had its beginning on the 1st of January,
1801, and not on the 1st of January, 1800), but to
hail the legal commencement of the Union with Ire-
land. The sun shone brilliantly on a new standard
on the Round Tower. I had often looked admiringly
upon the old standard, tattered and dingy as it some-
times was; but I now beheld that this new standard
was not only perfect in its shape and bright in its
colours, but was wholly of an unaccustomed pattern.
There were the arms of England in the first and
fourth quarterings; the arms of Scotland in the
second quartering; and the arms of Ireland in the
third. But where had vanished the fleur-de-lys?
Was his gracious majesty no longer King of Great
Britain, France, and Ireland, as his style had run in
all legal instruments in the memory of man, and a
good deal beyond? The newspapers said he was now
to be styled "George the Third, by the grace of God,
of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ire-
land, King, Defender of the Faith." The good folks
of Windsor argued that the change was ominous of
the departing glory of Old England.
It is not to be supposed that I knew much of
such matters in this tenth year of my life; but,
§ I.]
19
A PRELUDE.
""
nevertheless, I knew something of what was going
on in my little world of Windsor, in connexion with
the doings of the great world beyond the favoured
home of the king. I was the only child of a widowed
father; his companion in his few leisure hours; the
object of his incessant solicitude. I cannot remem-
ber myself as I was painted at two years old, in a
white frock with a black sash-the indication that
I had lost my mother. She was, as I was told by
those who knew her and loved her, a most amiable
woman, whose society my father had enjoyed only
for a few years-the daughter of a wealthy yeoman,
of Iver, in Buckinghamshire. The "yeoman of
those days, although a landed proprietor, did not
aspire to be called "esquire." He would now be
recognised as "gentleman-farmer." My white frock
and black sash had given place to jacket and trowsers.
But still I can call to remembrance the unjoyous
head of the desolate household; his passionate
caresses of his boy; his long fits of gloom and
silence. We had little talk of childish things. Of
his own childhood he never spake to me.
I came
to know, in after years, that he had been brought
up by his relative, the Rev. James Hampton, who
subsequently earned an honourable fame as the
translator of Polybius. This learned man died in
1778. In 1780, my father was settled at Windsor;
for I have heard him relate with some complacency
how he had asserted his political independence, by
voting for Admiral Keppel in that year; "though,
according to Horace Walpole, "all the royal bakers,
and brewers, and butchers voted against him." My
father had qualified himself for his trade of a book-
seller, by his experience in the house of
Hors-
B 2
20
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
field, the successor of the Knaptons, both of which
publishers were very eminent in their day. He had
moreover a taste for literary composition, which he
professionally indulged in the useful labour of com-
piling a little work which held its place in many
editions for half a century as "The Windsor Guide."
I find copper-plate views accompanying this hand-
book which bear the inscription: "Published as the
Act directs by Charles Knight, Windsor, March 31st,
1785.” In 1786 and 1787 he published the first
celebrated periodical written by Etonians. I possess
an interesting document, being the receipt to Charles
Knight for fifty guineas "in full for the copyright of
'The Microcosm,' a periodical work carried on by us,
the undermentioned persons, under the name and
title of Gregory Griffin. Received for John Smith,
Robert Smith, John Frere, and self, George Canning."
Of this school-boys' production, remarkable for its
intrinsic merits, but more so for the subsequent
eminence of its writers, Canning was the working
Editor. He was thus brought into friendly commu-
nication with my father. It was not only when the
brilliant supporter of Pitt was rising into political
importance, but when he had taken his place among
the foremost men of his time, that he had a kindly
feeling towards his first publisher, often calling
upon him with a cordial greeting when he visited
Windsor.
As I recollect my father when I was a child of
seven or eight years, he was much occupied by his
business, for he had become a printer in addition to
his trade of stationer and bookseller. A considerable
portion of his time was also spent on public affairs,
first of the Parish, and then of the Corporation. I
""
§ I.]
21
A PRELUDE.
was left much to myself, except when I listened
to the old-world stories of the faithful servant to
whose charge I was committed by my dying mother
-how like she was to the Peggotty of Dickens!
It was fortunate, therefore, that I acquired very
early a taste for reading. I had access to a large
collection of books, and I quickly found abundant
consolation for my solitary hours in that reading
which, somewhat unwisely I think, has now been
supplanted by what is held to be directly instructive.
To the child, Robinson Crusoe is, happily, not a
sealed book in an educational age; but the “ Seven
Champions of Christendom," the "Arabian Nights,”
the "Arabian Tales," with their wonders of the
"Dom Daniel" (which, looking back upon, seem to me
to have as much poetry in them as "Thalaba"), the
"Tales of the Genii," "Gulliver's Travels," Philip
Quarll," "Peter Wilkins," and a dozen others, now
vanished, were not then superseded, either in their
original seductions or in safer abridgments, by the
tamer fictions in which moral and religious truths are
inculcated. My avidity for reading, and, perhaps,
the dangerous locality in which I lived-an open
sewer from the Castle creeping at the back of my
father's house-made my constitution feeble; and
the feebleness ended in typhoid fever. I recovered
slowly, and was taken for the establishment of my
health to a farm which was tenanted by the father
of my good nurse. I have described what was the
life of a small farmer when I was playing at
"Farmer's Boy" at Warfield-one of the parishes
comprised in Windsor Forest.* My host was a
* "Once upon a Time."-The Farmer's Kitchen.
(C
22
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
shrewd Yorkshireman, from whom I learnt more
than I could have obtained from many books. He
was a tenant on the Walsh estate, having been placed
in this farm as a reward for his faithful service
with the Governor of Pennsylvania, Sir John Walsh,
before the War of Independence. He would dis-
course to me of the wonderful man who drew light-
ning from the skies—the friend of his own scientific
master (whose papers about the Torpedo and other
curious matters may be read in the Philosophical
Transactions), and he told how Benjamin Franklin
became a great instrument in accomplishing that
change which had separated the American States
from their parent country. He would relate to me
incidents of the war about taxing the colonists,
speaking rather from the revolutionist than the
loyal point of view. Altogether, a plain good man
of simple habits and large intelligence. He and his
bustling wife lived in the usual style of the southern
farmer of the days of Arthur Young, before he was
pampered by war-prices into luxury and display.
The greater war-time of the French Revolution had
in twenty years extinguished much of the imme-
diate interest of the half-forgotten era of the Ame-
rican war. My experienced friend would make
the stirring passing events of the week known to
his household, in reading aloud the "Reading
Mercury," which was duly delivered at his door by
an old newsman on a shambling pony. How eagerly
we looked for this messenger, whose budget would
provide occupation for many a dull evening! Pitt
and Fox, Nelson and Bonaparte, were familiar
names. Dibdin's songs had found their way to this
solitary inland place. Invasion was a threat we
§ I.]
23
A PRELUDE.
despised; for within a couple of miles of our farm
was a summer-camp of regular soldiers. I have
walked wonderingly through the lines of tents which
stretched across the sandy plain near Swinley, and
have lingered among the pickets till the evening gun
warned us to move homeward. But our country had
other protectors from our great enemy. It was satis-
factory to learn, from a popular song which our
ploughmen trolled out, that-
"Should their flat-bottoms in darkness come o'er,
Our brave Volunteers would receive them on shore."
There were, indeed, Volunteers before the close of
the eighteenth century, and though they were some-
what disparagingly called "Loyal Associations," as
though they were not soldiers, I can bear my testi-
mony that at Windsor in their blue coats, black belts,
and round hats with a bear-skin over the crown, they
looked very formidable, although perhaps not quite
equal to suppress a riot for cheap bread.
My pleasant months at Brock Hill Farm came to
an end; and I went home to begin the dreary life of
a day-school. Dreary, indeed, it was; for the educa-
tion was altogether rote-work; without the slightest
attempt to smooth over the difficulties that presented
themselves in geographical names held together by
no thread of description, and in rules of arithmetic,
to be regularly worked through without the slightest
endeavour to explain their rationale. The beginning
of the century found me at this school. I was one
of the few who learnt Latin and French. The same
emigré of the Revolutionary times taught both
tongues. I have no doubt his French accent was
perfect; but his Latin, if I may judge from the way
24
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
in which he read the first line of the Eneid, was not
the Latin of Eton "I do trow."
in
"Arma veeroomque cano, Trojæ quee preemus ab orees."
My language-master was a pleasant gentlemanly
person who hated England thoroughly. I have
looked with him upon our illuminations of tallow
candles for some naval victory, and have been dashed
my confident belief that our town guns, and our
bells, and the “Reading Mercury" told the truth,
when he assured me that this rejoicing was only a
false pretence; that it was vain to expect that a
trumpery island would ever be able to contend
against France; and that assuredly George III.
would soon resign Windsor Castle to the First Con-
sul. Nevertheless, he prayed that he might not see
the downfall of another monarchy.
The misery of the poor in my native town at the
beginning of the century was sufficiently visible even
to my childish apprehension. On an evening of the
previous autumn, when I was returning homeward
from a game in the Park, I heard the distant shouts of
a multitude, and saw a furious mob gathering at the
junction of the streets near the market-place. I got
into the safety of my home not too soon, for the mob
was coming towards the baker's shop that was next
door. They had smashed the windows of several
bakers in the lower part of the town. They believed,
as the greater number of people everywhere believed,
that the high price of corn was wholly occasioned by
combinations of corn-factors, meal-men, millers, and
bakers; and that if these oppressors of the nation
could be compelled to bring their stores to market,
there would be abundance and cheapness, and no
'
SI.J
25
A PRELUDE.
2
possible chance of the supply falling short. Our
neighbour the baker hid himself. He cared little if
his door were forced, and his loaves stolen, provided
the heavy box under his bed were safe. That box,
as he more than once showed me, was full of crowns
and half crowns, with some bright guineas, which he
had long hoarded. The reputed money-hoarders
were many in our town-men and women who had
no faith in the Funds or the Bank of England. The
baker hid himself in the back bed-room where his
treasure was. My father from his window exhorted
the people to go home. I stood trembling behind
him, and was somewhat astonished to see how power-
ful was the influence of firmness and kindness in
turning aside the wild but unpremeditated excite-
ment of unhappy and ignorant men, who were not
without a sense of justice even in their anger. There
were a few more outbreaks as the winter drew on ;
for the price of bread continued to rise. In January
the price of the quartern loaf of 4 lbs. 5 ozs. was
18. 9d. Windsor was always famous for its charities,
which, no doubt, were often improvidently bestowed;
but this, at any rate, was not a time in which the rich
could shrink from helping the poor, even if they had
known that the gratuitous distribution of provisions
had really a tendency to raise the price of food.
And so I looked upon crowds bringing daily their
tickets to a great empty house, which had been
fitted up with coppers, wherein unlimited shins of
beef became reduced into savoury soup, and bushels
of rice were boiled into a palatable mess. The work
of distribution was performed under the inspection of
a committee, who laboured with zeal, if not always
with judgment. One benefit they effected in addition
26
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
to that of saving the humbler population from the pains
of hunger. They gave time for them to ask them-
selves whether any good would be accomplished by
threatening millers and bakers with summary ven-
geance if they did not lower the price of meal and
bread. It was a hard lesson to learn, when there
were few sound teachers. Not many of the working
people could then read the newspapers; but some
who did read them might tell their neighbours that it
was argued that the excessive price of meal and bread
was a hard thing to bear, but that it was less terrible
than the famine which would ensue, if farmers and
millers and bakers could be compelled to sell from
their small stores at a price at which every mouth
could be fed as in years of plenty. Nevertheless, the
educated and the ignorant would equally learn from
the newspapers, that great peers and wise judges did
not altogether disapprove of the principles that led
to mill-burning and window-breaking. They would
learn how a corn-factor named Rusby had been found
guilty of the crime of having purchased by sample in
the corn-market at Mark Lane 90 quarters of wheat
at 41s. per quarter, and sold 30 of them in the same
market, on the same day, at 448.; and how the Lord
Chief Justice Kenyon had said to the jury,
have conferred, by your verdict, almost the greatest
benefit on your country that ever was conferred by
any jury." They would learn how this wicked corn-
factor met with his deserts, even before his sentence
for the crime of regrating had been passed upon him;
for that his house in Blackfriars Road had been
gutted by an enraged populace. They would learn
how the earl of Warwick in the House of Lords had
recommended the adoption of a maximum, by which
"You
§ I.]
27
A PRELUDE.
no wheat should be sold at a higher price than ten
shillings the bushel; and how his lordship had
rejoiced that no less than four hundred convictions
had taken place throughout the country for fore-
stalling, regrating, and monopolising. And why did
he rejoice? When the man Rusby, he said, was
convicted, the price of oats was fifty shillings per
quarter; but such was the effect of his conviction,
that the price of oats fell from day to day till it came
as low as seventeen shillings and sixpence. Such
were the economic doctrines proclaimed sixty years
ago in high places! Can we wonder that the igno-
rance of the people was in perfect concord?
It was a gloomy season, but nevertheless we
went on with our usual course of social observances.
Valentine's Day was well kept amongst us.
It was
:
a serious affair then for a bachelor to send a letter
embellished with hearts and darts to a lady; for it
was held to have a solemn meaning. But children
innocently played at Valentines. I have been led
blindfolded to the mistress of my affections in the
early morn, that no meaner divinity might meet my
eyes no vulgar chance should interfere with our
deliberate choice. On St. Valentine's eve some would
draw lots, to determine which pair should be regis-
tered in "Cupid's Kalendar." Old customs linger
about my early memories, like patches of sunlight
in a sombre wood. On the Saturday before mid-
lent Sunday, the farmers' wives who kept their stalls
in our market would exhibit their well-known pre-
paration of boiled wheat, which few old housewives
would neglect to purchase. On that fourth Sunday
in Lent, I regularly feasted on Furmety, with a lady
who was carefully observant of ancient usages. Does
28
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES :
any one in the southern counties now know the taste
of this once famous dish, made of boiled wheat
prepared in the farmer's household, and having been
a second time boiled in milk with plums, was served
sugared and spiced in a tureen? In the West, the
custom is still as duly regarded as the rite of the
pancake on Shrove Tuesday. The first of May
was scarcely saluted "with our early song." But
in this May of 1801, there was a great ceremony at
Windsor, in which I bore a humble part. On the
10th of May the custom of perambulating the
parish, which had been in disuse since 1783, was
revived, with wondrous feastings. The printed record
of these doings for three days takes me back into
the scenes of my childhood. There, still, my "little
footsteps lightly print the ground." The popula-
tion of Windsor gave themselves up for three days
to singing psalms at boundary oaks, and carousing
at boundary houses. A good deal of the winter's
gloom was passing away. The spring was fine. The
price of the quartern loaf had been rapidly falling
from the 1s. 10d. of the 5th of March (the
highest price it ever attained), to the 1s. 6d. of the
7th of May. The king,-who had been shut up in
the queen's lodge from the 14th of February to the
16th of March, with what the physicians called “ cold
and fever," but which we now know to have been
insanity,—was again trudging early to the dairy at
Frogmore; or riding at a very gentle pace after his
harriers; or travelling once a week to London to
meet his Council, where Mr. Pitt was no longer the
presiding genius. Our loyal people said that the
minister had justly forfeited the favour of "the best
of kings," by trying to make him violate his coro-
§ 1.]
29
A PRELUDE.
1
nation oath. To me, as to much older persons, the
removal of a great statesman from the government
of the kingdom was less important than the things
which concerned our borough and parish; and of such
was our Perambulation.
<<
Great were the preparations for our Rogation
days of Procession." Mindful of the order of Queen
Elizabeth, that the curate on such occasions "shall
admonish the people to give thanks to God in the
beholding of God's benefits," our vicar and churchwar-
dens were solicitous that there should be unusual
store of benefits to behold. And so it is recorded in
the churchwardens' "Book of Benefactions and
Charities,"* how sundry letters were written to the
owners and occupiers of boundary houses, to remind
them that, in former times, entertainment, whether
of a barrel of ale and bread and cheese, or a “gen-
teel" dinner, with wine to correspond, was provided
for the wayfarers, rich and poor, who thus laboured
to preserve their parish rights and liberties. Gene-
rous were the answers from all, except from the
treasurer to the College of Windsor, "who cast a
damp upon the business, observing that it was a
waste of victuals and viands when everything was
dear." The chronicle of the perambulation was duly
printed for the edification of those who were par-
takers of the solemnity, and for the bewilderment of
all future topographers. It was a glorious tenth of
May, when, after morning service at our old church,
we marched from the Town Hall-mayor, vicar,
curate, charity children, inhabitants-two and two;
boys like myself clinging to their fathers' skirts.
* "Annals of Windsor;" by Mr. Tighe and Mr. Davis. Vol. II.,
pp. 556 to 563.
30
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
We came to the first boundary house, at the bottom
of Peascod Street. The psalm was sung; the wine
was drunk "by the respectable parts of the com-
pany," according to the record. Then comes an
entry, which, even at this distance of time, produces
a qualm in my stomach: "We proceeded northward,
along the west side of the ditch; crossed the road
in Goswell Lane and the ditch at the bottom of
George Street on planks, and kept the drain that
runs from the houses in Thames Street." All the
lower parts of Windsor were then drain or ditch.
The ditch-the black ditch-predominated. Never
was there such a sink of impurity as my native
town. Those pleasant fields, the Goswells, which
in winter were flooded, were in spring, summer,
and autumn, pestilent with black ditches. The
railroad has there swept away these horrors. The
authorities have also found out that the smaller
black ditches of every alley have a tendency to
increase the poor's rate. But in my early days
these things were unheeded. In the Bachelor's
Acre the "little victims" played by the side of a
great open cesspool, kept brimming and overflowing
by drains disgorging from every street. The Court
sniffed this filthy reek. In the fields around Frog-
more it tainted the cowslip and the hawthorn
blossom. Municipal or royal dignitaries never in-
terfered to abate or remove the nuisance.
In truth,
the word nuisance had scarcely then found a place
in our language in a sanitary sense. Foul ditches,
crossed on planks, scarcely disturbed the usual com-
placency of the perambulators, for there was a
dinner in prospect, at her majesty's house at Frog-
more. I was with my father, as one of the fa-
§ I.]
31
A PRELUDE.
""
voured guests in the "state parlour," where Major
Price presided. The churchwardens' book records
that "a gentleman who accompanied us sung a song
or two, by permission." How well I remember that
facetious song of the "learned pig;" how often has
it been brought to my mind in recent years, in the
acquaintance of the very gentleman who sang a song
or two—the indefatigable, good-tempered, self-satis-
fied, pushing and puffing John Britton, who, then in
his thirtieth year, was at Windsor, occupied in a
topographical work which was commencing to be
published, “The Beauties of England and Wales.'
He is gone, having done good service in his day by
wedding archæology to a high style of illustrative
art. The Frogmore dinner was over. I was tired; but
perambulating was too pleasant to be readily relin-
quished. The next day I was tramping by the side
of a “bosky bourn" to Cranbourn, then a lodge,
which I had been told had as many windows as
there are days in the year. How changed is all this
forest scene! The lodge has been demolished. Many
of the grand old sapless oaks have been hewn
down. New plantations cover the plain which was
sixty years ago a wilderness of fern. The beauty of
the district is more ornate than of old. But nothing
can destroy the noble features of the site of Cran-
bourn, whether called Great Park or Forest. Another
royal dinner solaced our second day's march. The
third day's perambulation took us to Surly Hall and
The Willows-familiar scenes to every Etonian. The
Church was not as bountiful as the Crown when we
had returned to the boundary house at the foot of
the Hundred Steps. The dean and canons had pro-
vided, it is chronicled, "a dinner and a dozen of wine."
32
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
Our way to the Town Hall was up the narrow
Thames-street, the whole castle side of the road from
the Hundred Steps to Henry the Eighth's gateway
being then, and long after, crowded with houses.
Some of the meanest character, and with the most
disreputable occupiers, were the property of no one,
but were tenanted under what was termed "key-
hold." They have all been swept away. The rubbish
that grew up under the castle walls has been cleared,
even as the social rubbish has been cleared which
hid a good deal of the grandeur of our Constitutional
Monarchy.
As
About this period my father took me to London.
The journey from our town to the White Horse
Cellar in Piccadilly was satisfactorily performed in
the usual time of five hours, and a little more.
the night had closed in, I stood at the door of the
well-accustomed hotel, and looked with unspeakable
wonder upon the long line of brilliancy to the east
and to the west. Our lamps, few and far between,
were as farthing rushlights compared to this blaze
from patent reflectors. I knew not that even this
radiance would, like the glowworm in the matin
light, “pale its uneffectual fire," by the side of the
illumination without oil or wick. I saw the sights
which most boys were then taken to see, such as the
jewels in the Tower, and the wax-work in the Abbey.
But for one sight I was unprepared. I was led along
a somewhat dark passage up a narrow stair; and
there (oh ! that my mind could ever again feel, at
the contemplation of the most sublime or the most
beautiful object of nature, as it felt at that moment)
-there lay my beloved Windsor, stretched at my
feet. I screamed with an agony of pleasure. I
تی
§ I.]
33
A PRELUDE.
knew that I was in London; but there were spread
before me the park, where I was wont to play; the
terraces, where I had used to gaze upon the distant
hills; the river, whose osier bowers were as familiar
to me as my own little garden; the steep and narrow
streets, which I then thought the perfection of archi-
tecture; the very house in which I was born. I rubbed
my eyes; I was awake; the scene was still there.
I strained my ears, and I fancied I could hear the
cawing of the rooks in those old towers. It was with
difficulty that I could be dragged away; and when I
came out into the garish sunshine of Leicester
Square, and saw the bustling crowds, and heard the
din of the anxious city, I was reluctantly convinced
that I had looked upon a picture, called a panorama.
The bird's-eye representation, in one compact group-
ing, of objects which I had previously looked upon
singly, has left an impression upon my memory
which will assist me in tracing one of my own boyish
perambulations about Windsor Castle.
It is the Saturday half-holiday at my day-school.
The afternoon is bright and frosty. The rains which
have flooded the low lands of the Thames have
ceased. I can again ramble in the upper park.
Castle Street, in which I live, has a continuation of
houses up to the Queen's Lodge, in which the King
dwells at his Castle foot. There is nothing to sepa-
rate the Castle Hill from the town but a small
gateway, which bears the inscription, "Elizabethæ
Reginæ, xiii., 1572." Beyond the gate are substan-
tial houses, inhabited by good families. In one of
those near the Lodge once dwelt Mrs. Delany, at
whose door the King would unceremoniously enter, as
he entered in a December twilight and caught Fanny
VOL. I.
C
34
[§ 1.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
Burney playing at puss-in-the-corner. This house is
shut up in these my early school days. It is
haunted, and the fact is proved by a broken win-
dow-pane, through which the sentry had thrust his
bayonet when he saw the apparition. I pass the
railings which enclose the lawn before the Lodge,
and I reach the iron gates which terminate the road.
No gate-keeper is there to bar the entrance even of
beggars and vagrants. There is an old half-crazy
woman in an oil-skin coat, who opens the gate in
the hope of a halfpenny. Such is the "state and
ancientry" upon which the inmates of the royal
Lodge look out, School boys, with their kites and
hoops and cricket-bats, have free admission through
these gates. It is the common footpath to Datchet.
There is another footpath which leads to the dairy
at Frogmore, of which I may hereafter speak. I
walk by the well-trodden Datchet path to the edge
of the table-land forming the north side of the upper
park, and I reach the descent, winding amidst old
thorns and oaks, called Dod's Hill. My onward
walk is stopped, for the lower park is flooded. I
turn back and mount the broad flight of steps which
lead to the south terrace. This is no privileged
region for maids of honour and lords of the bed-
chamber alone to enjoy. The entire terrace is free
to the commonalty. The town boys here play at
follow my leader, and fearlessly run along the parapet,
whether on the south, the east, or the north sides.
No one looks out of windows draperied or undraperied,
for no one dwells there, except, on the north side,
Mr. James Wyatt, the Surveyor-General. He has
been busy about the Castle for a year or two. A few
of the mean circular-headed windows-by which the
§ I.]
35
A PRELUDE.
upper court was deformed, when Wren, at the com-
mand of Charles II., tried to obliterate the old fort-
ress character of the buildings-are being gothicised.
The Star building on the north terrace is undergoing
the same process. The patchwork system of improve-
ments which is going forward, a window at a time,
appears very unlike the exercise of a royal will.
The war absorbs the revenues of the State, leaving
little or nothing for art. I come up the paltry
wooden stairs that lead from the north terrace. I
look into the Quadrangle, which is solitary and silent,
except where a stonemason or two are at work. I
pass through the Norman gateway, by the brick
wall of the Round Tower garden, to a pile of ugly
buildings the guard-house, and its canteen, the
Royal Standard. Adjoining the Deanery is a ruinous
building called Wolsey's Tomb-house. St. George's
Chapel has been restored and beautified; but this
building has been neglected since the days of James
the Second, when it was a Roman Catholic Chapel.
I come home through Henry the Eighth's gateway,
the rooms of which, then, or a little before, were used
as a Court of Record, whose jurisdiction extended over
the forest of Windsor comprising many parishes.
Here, under the arch, was the prison of this "Castle
Court," which in 1790 was described as a disgrace
to the sight and to the feelings. I have seen the
grated windows of this prison, which was called "the
Colehouse." At the beginning of the century it was
converted into a guard-room.
From the circumstance that there was no carriage-
road from the Castle or the Queen's Lodge, except
through the town, it resulted that the
family were for ever in the public eye.
King and his
There was a
c 2
36
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
lawn behind the Lodge in which their privacy would
be undisturbed; but there was no other place in
which strangers or neighbours might not gaze upon
them or jostle them. The propinquity of the town,
and the constant passage of the royal carriages through
the town, made every movement of the Court familiar
to the lieges. Royalty lived in a glass house. There
was no restraint in these movements. What the
gossiping and inquiring gentleman who dwelt up the
hill said and did; how his daughters were dressed,
and how they nodded to their friend, the linen-draper,
as he bowed at his shop-door; how the good man's
lady was somewhat more reserved, but always gracious
-these matters mixed themselves up as familiarly
with the town talk as if the personages were the
squire of the village and his family, who sat in the
great pew every Sunday. Out of the observation of
this antiquated publicity was Peter Pindar made.
"The works of the sublime bard are sold publicly
at Windsor." Thus writes this once-famous Dr.
Wolcott of his own ribald lyrics, which he says "are
now in the library at the Queen's palace;" adding,
"his Majesty has written notes on the odes." As I
remember, there was no secresy observed in the sale
of these popular satires, although they might, per-
chance, come under the notice of the illustrious
objects of their ridicule,
"Who down at Windsor daily go a-shopping,
Their heads, right royal, into houses popping."
In my boyish experience I never saw the King
accompanying the Queen and Princesses in their
frequent visits to the shops of Windsor. The prints
in which the royal pair are represented as haggling
§ I.]
37
A PRELUDE.
with their tradesmen, and cheapening their merchan-
dise, were the productions of fifteen years before the
opening of the nineteenth century. But I have often
bowed to George III. in the upper park, as he walked
to his dairy at Frogmore, and passed me as I was
hunting for mushrooms in the short grass on some
dewy morning. He had an extraordinary faculty of
recognizing everybody, young or old; and he knew
something of the character and affairs of most persons
who lived under the shadow of his castle.
ever a successor to the famous court barber,
There was
Ramus, called Billy by the best of kings,"
(C
who could retail the current scandal of our Little
Pedlington," as he presided over the royal toilet,
The scandal was forgotten with the laugh which it
excited.
My early familiarity with the person of George III.
might have abated something in my mind of the
divinity which doth hedge a king; but it has left an
impression of the homely kindness of his nature,
which no subsequent knowledge of his despotic ten-
dencies, his cherished political hatreds, and his obsti-
nate prejudices as a sovereign, can make me lay
aside. There was a magnanimity about the man in
his forgetfulness of the petty offences of very humble
people, who did not come across his will, although
they might appear indiscreet or even dangerous in
their supposed principles. Sir Richard Phillips, with
somewhat of a violation of confidence, printed in his
"Monthly Magazine an anecdote of George III.
which was told him by my father. Soon after the
publication of Paine's "Rights of Man," in 1791,
-before the work was declared libellous,-the King
""
38
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES;
was wandering about Windsor early on a summer
morning, and was heard calling out" Knight, Knight!"
in the shop whose shutters were just opened. My
father made his appearance as quickly as possible, at
the sound of the well-known voice, and he beheld
his Majesty quietly seated, reading with marked
attention. Late on the preceding evening a parcel
from Paternoster Row had been opened, and its
miscellaneous contents were exposed on the counter.
Horror! the King has taken up the dreadful "Rights
of Man," which advocated the French Revolution in
reply to Burke. Absorbed Majesty continued reading
for half an hour. The King went away without
a remark; but he never afterwards expressed his
displeasure, or withdrew his countenance. Peter
Pindar's incessant endeavours to represent the King
as a garrulous simpleton were more likely to provoke
the laughter of his family, than to suggest any desire
to stifle the poor jests by those terrors of the law
which might have been easily commanded. It was
the same with the people. The amusements which
the satirist ridiculed, when he told of a monarch
"Who rams, and ewes, and lambs, and bullocks fed,"
were pursuits congenial to the English taste, and not
incompatible with the most diligent performance of
public duty. The daubs of the caricaturist pro-
voked no contempt for "Farmer George and his
Wife." The sneers of the rhymester at "sharp and
prudent economic kings," at the parsimony which
prescribed that at the breaking up of a royal card
party "the candles should be immediately blown
out,”—fell harmless upon Windsor ears. Blowing
out of wax candles, leaving the guests or congre-
§ I.]
39
A PRELUDE.
gation in the dark, was the invariable practice of
royal and ecclesiastical officials. At St. George's
Chapel, the instant the benediction was pronounced,
vergers and choristers blew out the lights. Per-
quisites were the law of all service. The good-
natured King respected the law as one of our insti-
tutions. He dined early. The Queen dined at an
hour then deemed late. He wrote or read in his own
uncarpeted room, till the time when he joined his
family in the drawing-room. One evening, on a
sudden recollection, he went back to his library.
The wax-candles were still burning. When he
returned, the page, whose especial duty was about
the King's person, followed his Majesty in, and was
thus addressed, “Clarke, Clarke, you should mind
your perquisites. I blew out the candles." The
King's savings were no savings to the nation. In
1812 it was stated in the House of Commons that
the wax lights for Windsor Castle cost ten thousand
a year.
There were abundant opportunities for every
stranger to gaze upon the King and his family. The
opportunities were so abundant that his Majesty's
neighbours of Windsor did not manifest any great
solicitude to look upon the royal person. Duly every
Wednesday his travelling carriage passed down the
Castle Hill, preceded and followed by some twenty
light horse. A council or a levée at St. James's
demanded the royal presence. I remember that his
Majesty's saddler stood at his door in a cocked hat
and bowed most reverentially, on these weekly jour-
neyings. Once a month the King went to receive
the recorder's report,-that awful duty of which great
statesmen and lawyers then thought so lightly.
40
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
Seldom were there fewer than four or six convicts,
male and female, left for execution. That all should
be respited is chronicled as a rare occurrence. The
severe administration of the law produced no dimi-
nution of crime. In those days we lived in fear of
highwaymen and footpads. Three gentlemen from
the City-bearing the well-known names of Mellish,
Bosanquet, and Pole, potentates in the money market
-were flattered by his Majesty's attention to them in
commanding that a deer of much speed and bottom
should be turned out for their diversion at Langley
Broom. The party hilariously dined at Salt Hill,
after a glorious run. On their return, when near
the Magpies on Hounslow Heath they were robbed
by three footpads. Not content with their plunder,
one of the robbers fired a pistol into the carriage.
The ball entered the forehead of Mr. Mellish, and
he died at the Magpies. Hounslow Heath, Maiden-
head Thicket, Langley Broom, were the resorts
of desperadoes, who clustered round Windsor as
brigands still cluster round Rome. At the root of
the evil in England was the inefficient and corrupt
administration of the lesser functionaries. In the
Papal States brigandage is only a part of the general
misrule. Robbers, with us, escaped till the police-
officer could obtain his "blood-money," the measure
of the marauder's iniquity being full. Terror had no
permanent influence. In the "Annual Register
for 1799 is this record: "Haines has been hung in
chains on Hounslow Heath between the two roads."
In 1804, as I was riding home from school, the man
who accompanied me proposed to show me something
curious. Between the two roads, near a clump of
firs, was a gibbet, on which two bodies hung in
""
§ I.]
41
A PRELUDE.
chains. The chains rattled; the iron plates scarcely
held the gibbet together; the rags of the highway-
men displayed their horrible skeletons. That was a
holiday sight for a schoolboy, sixty years ago!
The most attractive of all the gatherings of crowds
to gaze on royalty was the Terrace. Before the
Castle was inhabited by the King and his family, the
music-room on the eastern side had been fitted up,
and here the Court repaired on Sunday evenings.
Dr. Burney, writing to his daughter Fanny (then
Madame D'Arblay) in July, 1799, has a most enthu-
siastic appreciation of the joys of Windsor Terrace.
"I never saw it more crowded or gay. The Park
was almost full of happy people-farmers, servants,
tradespeople, all in Elysium." On the Terrace he
walked amidst a crowd of "the first people in the
kingdom for rank and office. . . . All was cheerful-
ness, gaiety, and good humour, such as the subjects
of no other monarch, I believe, on earth enjoy at
present." Thus "voir tout couleur de rose" makes
life move pleasantly even to such as Dr. Burney, who
had been doomed "in suing long to bide." He was
perhaps seeking no advancement in 1799; but in
1786 he had been sagaciously advised to walk upon
the Terrace. "The King will understand." The
crowd of " the first people in the kingdom" had many
of them the same belief in the sagacity of the King.
The dean was there, looking for a bishopric; the rich
incumbent was there, looking for a deanery; the
pluralist was there, looking for a richer benefice than
his smaller one of poor five hundred a year. It was
a time when the Crown had more to say in the choice
of church dignitaries, and in the mode of disposing
of rich livings, than in the present degenerate times,
""
42
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
I
when the chancellor and the prime minister have
advisers to regulate their patronage upon parliamen-
tary principles. The Terrace, at the beginning of
the present century, was not strictly an institution
that was in accordance with the ordinary religious
habits of the King's life. As carriage after carriage
rolled up the Castle Hill, until a file of carriages,
having discharged their aristocratic occupants, filled
the space from the Terrace steps to the centre of the
town, there were unquestionably such violations of
Sunday observances as Bishop Porteus remonstrated
against and Wilberforce groaned over.
There were
many anomalies in those days, and this was one of
them. I thought little then of such matters. I sat
upon the low Terrace wall; listened to the two bands
-the Queen's and that of the Staffordshire Militia ;
wondered at garters upon gouty legs, and at great
lords looking like valets in the Windsor uniform; saw
the sun go down as the gay company dispersed, and
was gratified, if not altogether "in Elysium."
On one of these occasions-it was in 1804—I saw
Mr. Pitt. He was waiting among the crowd till
the time when the King and Queen should come
forth from a small side-door, and descend the steps.
which led to the level of the Eastern Terrace. A
queer position this for the man who was at that
moment the arbiter of European affairs; who was to
decide whether continental kings were to draw their
swords at the magical word "Subsidy;" upon whom
a few were looking with sorrow in the belief that he
had forfeited the pledge he had given when England
and Ireland became an United Kingdom, and whom
the many regarded as the pilot who had come to his
senses, and who could now be trusted with the vessel
§ I.]
43
A PRELUDE.
of the state in the becalmed waters of intolerance.
Soon was the minister walking side by side with the
sovereign, who, courageous as he was, had a dread of
his great servant till he had manacled him. It was
something to me, even this once, to have seen Mr.
Pitt. The face and figure and deportment of the
man gave a precision to my subsequent conception of
him as one of the realities of history. The immo-
bility of those features, the erectness of that form,
told of one born to command. The loftiness and
breadth of the forehead spoke of sagacity and firm-
ness-the quick eye, of eloquent promptitude-the
nose (I cannot pass over that remarkable feature,
though painters and sculptors failed to repro-
duce it), the nose, somewhat twisted out of the
perpendicular, made his enemies say his face was as
crooked as his policy. I saw these characteristics,
or had them pointed out to me afterwards. But the
smile, revealing the charm of his inner nature-that
was to win the love of his intimates, but it was not
for vulgar observation.
Loudly and rapidly did his Majesty always talk as
the royal cortége moved up and down, amidst the
double line of his subjects duteously bowing or curt-
seying, and graciously rewarded with nods and smiles
from Queen and Princesses when any familiar face
was recognised: "How do you do, Dr. Burney?" said
the King, "Why, you are grown fat and young! Why,
you used to be as thin as Dr. Lind." What mattered
it to Dr. Lind, who was close at hand, that crowds,
noble or plebeian, should then direct their eyes to the
tall gentleman, who is described by Dr. Burney as "a
mere lath"? From my early years was the person
well known to me of that good physician. He inter-
44
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
ested me, as I learnt that he had been round the
world with Captain Cook. He had stood at my bed-
side with another friend, Mr. Battiscomb, the royal
apothecary, as I hovered between life and death;
when, as my good nurse afterwards told me, she
thought it was all over, for they shook their heads
and talked Latin. Miss Burney writes of Dr. Lind,
in 1785, "He is married and settled here, and follows,
as much as he can get practice, his profession; but
his taste for tricks, conundrums, and queer things,
makes people fearful of his trying experiments upon
their constitutions, and think him a better conjuror
than physician." He has often charmed me with a
sight of his “queer things." Mr. Hogg has, within
the last few years, given currency to a somewhat
incredible story that Shelley imputed to Dr. Lind
his initiation, when an Eton boy, into the reasons
for hating kings and priests, even as the Wind-
sor physician hated them. Perhaps Shelley, who
was credulous in worldly matters, as are most scep-
tics-in religion, believed that the mysterious little
books which Dr. Lind printed from characters which
he called "Lindian Ogham," cut by himself into
strange fashions from battered printing types which
my father gave him, were the secret modes by which
the illuminati corresponded, even under the very eye
of the Court. I doubt whether he were conjuror
enough to make the shrewd George III. mistake
covert Jacobinism for ostentatious loyalty.
There were eminent men living at Windsor and in
the neighhourhood, from whom I occasionally ob-
tained glimpses of knowledge beyond my ordinary
routine of imperfect school instruction. My father
took me to see the great telescope of Dr. Herschel at
§ I.]
45
A PRELUDE.
Slough. The clear explanations of the celebrated
astronomer filled me with wonder, if they went be-
yond my comprehension. The venerable philosopher,
Jean André de Luc (I believe it was somewhat later),
showed me a galvanic pile which he had constructed,
and astonished me by causing the mysterious agency
to ring a little bell. M. Porny, who had been French
master at Eton, and whose grammar and exercises
my father printed for the London publishers, would
occasionally come to see us, and would talk with a
kindly interest about my small acquirements. I have
an earlier remembrance of another amiable foreigner,
the Rev. Charles de Guiffardière, for whom my father
was printing a French work on Ancient History for the
private use of the Royal Family-a gentleman whom
Miss Burney held up to ridicule in her Diary, as Mr.
Turbulent. But-must I confess it ?-I am inclined
to believe that the stage did for the enlargement of
my mind something more than school lessons-some-
thing more than these rare opportunities of listening
to the conversation of men of learning and ability.
From my eighth year upwards, I could always obtain
a free admission to that smallest of playhouses, the
Theatre Royal of Windsor, where Majesty oft was
delighted to recreate itself with hearty laughs at the
comic stars of sixty years since. Tragedy was not to
the King's taste. Miss Burney has recorded how he
appreciated the dramatist whose Hamlet and Bene-
dick were sometimes here personated by Elliston;
and whose Richard III. Cooke coarsely but powerfully
enacted on this stage: "Was there ever such stuff
as great part of Shakspere? only one must not
say so! But what think you? What? Is there not
sad stuff? What? What?" George III. has had
46
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
supporters in this opinion where we might scarcely
look for them. I have heard one such heretic, whose
intellectual dimensions would appear gigantic in
comparison with those of the King, say of the writer
of the sad stuff, "D- and I always call him Silly
Billy." The publicity of which I have spoken was,
in the Windsor Theatre, carried to its extremest
limit. That honoured playhouse no longer exists.
The High Street exhibits a dissenting chapel on its
site, whose frontage may give some notion of the
dimensions of that cosy apartment, with its two tier
of boxes, its gallery, and its slips. It was not an
exclusive theatre. Three shillings gave the entrance
to the boxes, two shillings to the pit, and one shilling
to the gallery. One side of the lower tier of boxes
was occupied by the Court. The King and Queen
sat in capacious arm-chairs, with satin playbills
spread before them. The orchestra, which would
hold half a dozen fiddlers, and the pit, where some
dozen persons might be closely packed on each bench,
separated the royal circle from the genteel parties in
the opposite tier of boxes. With the plebeians in the
pit the Royal Family might have shaken hands; and
when they left, there was always a scramble for their
satin bills, which would be afterwards duly framed
and glazed as spoils of peace. As the King laughed
and cried, "Bravo, Quick!" or "Bravo, Suett!"-for
he had rejoiced in their well-known mirth-provoking
faces many a time before, the pit and gallery clapped
and roared in loyal sympathy: the boxes were too gen-
teel for such emotional feelings. As the King, Queen,
and Princesses retired at the end of the third act, to
sip their coffee, the pot of Windsor ale, called Queen's
ale, circulated in the gallery. At eleven o'clock the
§ I.]
47
A PRELUDE.
curtain.dropped. The fiddles struck up "God save the
King;" their Majesties bowed around as the house
clapped; and the gouty manager, Mr. Thornton, lead-
ing the way to the entrance (carrying wax-lights and
walking backward with the well-practised steps of a
Lord Chamberlain), the flambeaux of three or four
carriages gleamed through the dimly lighted streets,
and Royalty was quickly at rest.
Our theatre was only open at the Eton vacations.
But there, whether the King and Queen were present
or not, I obtained something like a peep into the outer
world-the world beyond the little orb of my country
town. For the Royal Windsor was essentially a country
town of the narrowest range of observation, and the
tiniest circle of knowledge. The people vegetated,
although living amidst a continual din of Royalty
going to and fro—of bell-ringing for birthdays-of
gun-firing for victories—of reviews in the Park-of
the relief of the guard, with all pomp of military
music of the chapel bell tolling twice a day,
unheeded by few besides official worshippers—of
crowding to the Terrace on Sunday evenings-of
periodical holidays, such as Ascot races and Egham
races of rare festivities, such as a fête at Frogmore.
The "loyal,” or the “independent" voters of Wind-
sor, as they were styled in election bills by rival can-
didates, were fierce in their partisanship, but there
was no real principle at the root of their differences.
Through 1801 they were preparing, by rounds of
treating, for an expected election, which occurred in
1802; when the Court candidate was returned by a
large majority, and the one who bribed highest of
two "independent" candidates was also returned,
but was finally unseated by a parliamentary com-
48
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
mittee. Those who did not receive bribes were never
scrupulous about administering them. Corruption
was an open and almost a legitimate trade, as I occa-
sionally learnt from the talk of those around me.
The Court was an indirect party to the corruption, by
installing two of the most influential of the plebeian
partisans into the snug retirement of the ancient
foundation of the Poor Knights of Windsor. The
institution had lost its character of "Milites Pau-
peres;" and tailors and victuallers were not held to
desecrate it. In spite of all this laxity of political
morals, the people amongst whom I was thrown
were, for the most part, of honourable private cha-
racter. It was a period when there was less compe-
tition amongst tradesmen than in the present day.
There were, consequently, fewer of what we now
regard as the common tricks of trade. They sold the
article which they professed to sell; and were
offended if they were asked to abate their price.
The few gentry were patronising, with a certain
friendliness. The many clergy of the two colleges
had somewhat haughty brows under their shovel
hats, but were charitable and not very intolerant.
The distinction between the trading and the profes-
sional classes was not so nicely preserved as it is now.
Respectability was the quality more aimed at by the
attorney and the doctor than what we call gentility;
and respectability did not mean the pretension of
keeping a gig or a footman-display for the world,
and meanness for the household.
One of the most vivid of my recollections of this
period, and indeed of some years after, is that of
the extremely easy mode in which the majority of
the trading classes struggled with the cares of obtain-
§ I.]
49
A PRELUDE.
ing a livelihood. It is not within my remembrance
that anybody worked hard. The absence of extreme
competition appeared to give the old settlers in the
borough a sort of vested interest in their occupations;
and if sometimes a stranger came amongst them,
with lower prices and lower bows, he would be
regarded as an intruder on the fertile close, who
would soon come to the end of his tether. It was
the same with the attorneys and the apothecaries.
Those who had to preserve a genteel appearance
spent an hour each day under the hands of the
hair-dresser. Every morning the hair was powdered,
the queue was unrolled and rolled up again, the
gossip was talked, the evening paper was glanced
at, and by eleven the good man was behind his
counter. There were a few of the oldest school who
closed their hatch when they went to their noonday
dinner, and no importunity would induce them to
open it. When the baker had drawn his afternoon
batch, he took off his red cap and washed his bald
head, put on his flaxen wig, and sallied forth to spend
his long evening in his accustomed chair at the ale-
house, which had become his second home. Some had
a notion that they secured custom to the shop by a
constant round among the numerous hostelries. I
knew a most worthy man, occupying a large house
which his forefathers had occupied from the time of
Queen Anne, who, when he gave up the business to his
son, who, recently married, preferred his own fireside,
told the innovator that he would infallibly be ruined
if he did not go out to make friends over his evening
glass. The secret of these worthy people keeping their
heads above water, in this laissez faire sort of exist-
ence, was, that their ordinary habits were frugal, that
VOL. I.
D
50
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
they rarely drank wine; never occupied the best room
except on Sunday, and on that day alone had the
"added pudding" of time immemorial. The frugal
habits of all of the middle classes, and the want of
education of many, did not abate anything of their
importance when they were chosen to fill public
offices. Under the guidance of the Town Clerk, cor-
porate magistrates generally got through their busi-
ness decently. Sometimes they made little slips.
Late in the evening an offender was brought before
one of our mayors, having been detected in stealing
a smock-frock from a pawnbroker's door. "Look in
'Burn's Justice,'" said his worship to his son; "look
in the index for smock-frock." "Can't find it, father.
Not there." "What! no law against stealing smock-
frocks? D-- my heart, young fellow, but you've
had a lucky escape." (Even justices in those times
might incur the penalties against profane oaths.) The
constable demurred at the discharge of the prisoner.
"Well, well! Lock him up, and we'll see the Town
Clerk in the morning."
Peter Pindar wrote an ode on "Frogmore Fête,"
in which he describes the "Pair of England" with
"The family of Orange by their side." This would
take us to 1796 or 1797. It was about the begin-
ning of the century that I was present at one of
these fêtes, at which, as on previous occasions, how-
ever sneered at, there was a real desire to promote
the pleasures of their neighbours and dependents on
the part of the Royal Family. Amongst other
delights of that occasion, there was a play, or rather
scenes of a play, acted before the mansion, in the co-
lonnade of which the Court stood, whilst the common
spectators were grouped on the lawn below. The
SI.]
51
A PRELUDE.
scenes were from the "Merry Wives of Windsor.”
The critical faculty had not then been developed to
stand in the way of my perfect enjoyment. I be-
lieved then in the real existence of Slender and
Anne Page; of the French doctor and the Welsh
parson; of mine host of the Garter, who was un-
doubtedly the host of the White Hart. I then knew
an old house at the corner of Sheet Street (alas! it is
pulled down) where Mr. and Mrs. Ford once dwelt,
and whence Falstaff was carried in the buck-basket
to Datchet Mead. I could then tell the precise spot
where the epicurean knight went hissing hot into the
Thames. Herne's Oak was then to me an undeniable
memorial of centuries past. Forty years afterwards,
I went over the footsteps of my childhood with Mr.
Creswick, and we tried to verify the sites of these
immortal scenes. The pencil of my eminent friend
has shadowed forth some aids to the imagination of
the readers of the "Merry Wives of Windsor," in my
"pictorial" edition. But to my mind there were no
realities such as I had pictured when, after the
Fête at Frogmore, I wandered about, book in hand,
to the fields where Sir Hugh Evans sang "To shallow
rivers," and looked for the "oak with great ragg'd
horns," near the pit where the fairies danced. Dili-
gent antiquarianism has pointed out a mistake or two
in my conjectural sites. It is of little moment. It
was with a pang that I gave up my boyish convic-
tion that I had gathered acorns beneath "Herne's
Oak," and yielded to the evidence that it had been
cut down. The "undoubting mind" is a youthful
possession beyond all price; and though the Winter
of scepticism may have come, it is still pleasant to
look back upon the Spring of belief.
D 2
52
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES :
There are some things that are prominent among
the recollections of my nonage, in which the faith of
my inexperience and the doubts of my small know-
ledge, were curiously blended. I was a frequent visitor
to the State Apartments and the Round Tower. I
sometimes accompanied friends who came to see
Windsor; sometimes was permitted by the kind and
intelligent keeper of the pictures in the Castle to
linger about and look my fill. The State Rooms now
are very different from the State Rooms as I remem-
ber them. There had been little change, I appre-
hend, in the architectural character of the rooms
since the period of Anne and George I., when Sir
James Thornhill painted new allegories to supple-
ment the old flatteries of Charles II. by Verrio.
We entered by a staircase under a dome gaudily
decorated with the story of Phaeton and with
lady-like representatives of the four elements, Fire,
Air, Earth, and Water. The pictures in the apart-
ments had received a large addition to their num-
ber after George III. came to reside at Windsor.
Amongst these additions were the Cartoons. At the
period of which I speak, and during several succeed-
ing years, an artist was employed in making the most
elaborate pencil-drawings of these bold designs for
tapestry, which, perpetuated in the most exquisitely
finished engravings, gave a very adequate notion of
the skill of Mr. Holloway, but very little of the
grandeur of Raffaelle. That grandeur I could even
then comprehend in the Ananias, and Paul Preaching
at Athens; I could feel the exquisite tenderness of
the charge to Peter; but I could not quite under-
stand the large men in the little boat in the Mira-
culous Draught of Fishes. The most interesting
§ I.]
53
A PRELUDE.
room, at the beginning of the century, was that
known as Queen Elizabeth's, or the Picture Gallery.
In a few years it was dismantled of its somewhat
choice collection, and became a lumber-room, into
which no one looked. There I once gazed upon the
Misers of Quintin Matsys-well-fed misers, gloating
over their money-heaps, with a joyous expression
quite incompatible with the ordinary notion of the
self-denying misery of avarice. At the end of this
long and narrow room, looking out on the North
Terrace, hung a wonderful Boy and Puppies, by
Murillo. In this gallery were the three grand ancient
paintings of the Battle of Spurs, the Embarkation of
Henry the Eighth, and the Field of the Cloth of Gold.
They first went away to the Society of Antiquaries,
who were forced to acknowledge that they were
only a loan; and they are now among the heir-looms
of the people at Hampton Court. I hope that I had
not faith enough in the ideal of Lely and Wissing to
believe that the profuse display of their charms by
most of King Charles's "beauties" was an adequate
representation of female loveliness. In the same
spirit of incredulity I was not quite content to believe
that the Roman Triumph which Verrio had painted
in St. George's Hall-in which Edward the Black
Prince and his royal prisoner of France were the
principal personages-was a faithful representation
of the costume and manners of the fourteenth cen-
tury. The Round Tower, whose rooms, now private,
were then open to the public gaze at the price of a
shilling, was a miserably-furnished, dreary place,
which had little charm for me, except in the noble
view from its leads. One of these dingy rooms was
hung with faded tapestry, delineating the piteous
54
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
story of Hero and Leander. Long ago I related the
discourse of the fair guide, who aroused my critical
scepticism in my boyhood, and who was a perpetual
source of enjoyment to me when I could beguile
some unsuspecting stranger into a patient attention
to her learned volubility. "Here, ladies and gentle-
men, is the whole lamentable history of Hero and
Leander. Hero was a nun. She lived in that old
ancient nunnery which you see," &c., &c. We have
gained many great and good things through the
Education of the People; but what have we not lost,
in losing the humorous contrasts of society which
were presented in the days of the Horn-Book.
At the age of twelve a new life opened upon me.
I was sent to a somewhat famous classical school-
that of the Rev. Dr. Nicholas, at Ealing. Here, for
the first time, I was stimulated into the ambition to
excel. I had read a good deal for my own pleasure;
but I had read little for solid improvement. My
command of books had given me advantages over
other boys; for, although it might have been deemed
a waste of time that I had been devouring plays and
novels without stint, I had thus acquired some com-
mand of my own language, and could write it with
ease and correctness. But I soon found that my
desultory knowledge would stand me in little stead
when I had to construe Cæsar or Horace. There was
a kind friend at hand in one of the masters-Joseph
Heath, a Fellow of St. John's, Oxford-whose memory
I shall ever cherish. He helped me over the first dif-
ficulties of my advance in the routine of my class. I
soon did my exercises quickly, and did them well;
but the system of the school was not favourable to
§ I.]
55
A PRELUDE.
<<
He treated me in some
steady and continuous exertion in climbing heights
by other than beaten tracks. My memory enabled
me readily to accomplish tasks which to others
were severe labours. But I was very young and
very small, so that I was kept too long amidst slow
class-fellows. Whilst I should have been learning
Greek, I was construing easy Latin authors, writing
a weekly theme, and making verses which required
little talent besides the careful use of the Gradus
ad Parnassum." Nevertheless my school-life was
a real happiness. My nature bourgeoned under
kindness, and I received unusual favours from the
friend I have mentioned.
degree as his companion. At his house on a Satur-
day afternoon I have been admitted to the privilege
of taking a glass of wine with scholars from London,
who came to renew the associations of their Oxford
undergraduate days. One of these was Mr. Ellis, of
the British Museum-the Sir Henry Ellis of the pre-
sent time—whose genial courtesy still reminds me of
the sixty years ago when, as a boy, I first made an
acquaintance which I have never ceased to appreciate
as a man. I was happy at Ealing school, and if I had
been permitted to stay there long enough, I might have
fought my way to some sound scholarship. After little
more than two years I was uprooted from this con-
genial soil, to be planted once more in the arid sands.
of Windsor, my father's apprentice; to become my
own instructor; and, 'like too many self-teachers, to
dream away the precious years of youth in desultory
reading-purposeless, almost hopeless :
"Sublimest danger, over which none weeps,
When any young wayfaring soul goes forth
Alone, unconscious of the perilous road,
56
[S I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
The day-sun dazzling in his limpid eyes,
To thrust his own way, he an alien, through
The world of books!"
ELIZABETH BROWNING, "Aurora Leigh."
When I left my home for the first time, I suddenly
passed out of the excitements of my Windsor life into
the school-boy's ordinary abstraction from the outer
world. I heard nothing of the stir of the great
Babel, though I was within seven miles of Hyde Park
Corner. The newspaper I now very rarely saw,
instead of regularly reading our "Globe" aloud; for
of that evening journal my father was then a share-
holder. In April, 1802, I had gazed upon our town
illuminations for the Peace of Amiens. They were
resplendent. A wonderful opaque transparency of
a hideous female with a cornucopia adorned the
larger house in Castle Street to which we had moved
a short time before. The classical horn of plenty
could not, in those times of paper-currency and pro-
tection, have been superseded by a better emblem of
peace, a big loaf labelled 8d., such as some lived to
see. The people were, however, in raptures at the
peace, for it freed them from the income-tax; but
they soon began to doubt whether it would be an
enduring peace; for they saw Bonaparte advancing
towards a crown with "ravishing strides," when in the
autumn he was appointed First Consul for life. In
March, 1803, a month before I went to my boarding-
school, there was a general burst of indignation
against the bravado of the French ruler that Eng-
land alone could not encounter France. I had not
been at Ealing a month when the two countries were
at war. From the isolation of my school life I was
truly glad to go home for my midsummer holidays,
§ I.]
57
A PRELUDE.
to behold something of the patriotic enthusiasm of
which Windsor, as I heard, gave an example which
was rousing the whole land.
OX.
One of the first objects which met my eye was a
caricature, by Gillray, of "The King of Brobdingnag
and Gulliver;" but it was a caricature which our
King would not be displeased at. In the palm of his
right hand George held Napoleon, intently viewing
him through an opera-glass. The diminutive Cor-
sican stood boldly on that broad palm, with cocked
hat and sword drawn. The burly Englishman
regarded the vapouring little man with something
like the contempt which we felt, or affected to feel,
for him who was threatening to exterminate us.
He was a mere insect-a pigmy-a frog aping the
So went the loyal songs which were heard in
every street. Others denounced him as the slaugh-
terer in cold blood of thousands of prisoners of war,
and the poisoner of his own soldiers. The old hatred
towards the Jacobins of France had given place to a
more concentrated hatred of the one man who was
fighting his way to a throne by the force of his
genius and the laxity of his principles, and whose
restless ambition was now tending to universal em-
pire. But the country did something more than
ridicule and abuse their great enemy as "the butcher
Bonaparte "--something more effective than joining
in the chorus of "Huzza for the King of the Island."
In the three months from the beginning of May to
the beginning of August, 300,000 volunteers had
been enrolled. What mattered it, with such a spirit
in the land, that 120,000 Frenchmen were encamped
at Boulogne, ready for our invasion?
When my holidays were over, the echo came to our
58
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES.
quiet village that the invaders were quickly coming.
M. Thiers says that the threatened approach of
150,000 men, led by the victorious Bonaparte,
produced a shiver of terror in every class of the
English nation. Well do I remember how we
school-boys shivered. Our games assumed a semi-
military character. We had sham fights of French
and English. We sang "Rule, Britannia" in our play-
ground. In the same bedroom with me slept a son
of Charles Incledon. He had inherited the glorious
voice of his father, and nightly he kept us awake
with some of Dibdin's most stirring songs.
One day
the rumour came to us that the French had landed.
The whole school was astir. Surely it was no time
for lessons when all England was going forth to fight;
so we boldly petitioned for a half-holiday. We
obtained our request, upon the assurance of our good
Doctor that he would go to London and ascertain
the truth of the rumour. That plea would not serve
us again; for those who said that Bonaparte had
landed, or who believed that he could land,
"Now all the youth of England are on fire,"
were held to be little better than cowards; if not
traitors.
Another
year came.
There had been deep depres-
sion at Windsor; for in February the King's mind
had been again affected, and it was not till the end
of April that he was capable of transacting business
in public. But when I came home for my mid-
summer holidays, he again appeared, as if with
renewed vigour. Pitt had returned to office, under
a pledge that he would not agitate for Catholic
Emancipation. He had accepted power upon a system
§ I.]
59
A PRELUDE.
of exclusion which George III. required, but which
left the great Minister weak in Parliament, though
strong in the general belief of the people that his
talent and energy were alone capable of resisting the
ambition of the now Emperor of the French. The
national hatred of Bonaparte had grown more intense
after the murder of the Duc d'Enghien. The volun-
teer organization was complete. At Windsor, the
chief business of life appeared to be volunteer drills
and reviews. My father was a lieutenant in our
local corps, and I was ever at his side in those mid-
summer marchings and counter-marchings. This
volunteering was not altogether playing at soldiers.
Our Volunteer had some work to perform wholly
unknown to the Volunteer of the time of Queen
Victoria. He had to pipe-clay his white breeches
and gaiters. He had to polish the bright barrel of
his musket till he could see his face in it-Brown
Bess was a later invention. He had to grease and
flour his hair, like a modern footman; and then to
wash the grease and flour out, till he was fit to stand
at the counter or sit at the desk, like an honest
tradesman. He had no rail-road to carry him to a
review; but marched through the night to Bulmarsh
Heath, near Reading, to take his place amongst the
other bold warriors of Berkshire. The discipline was
not very exact. I have laughed, although I was
scandalized, to see an impudent corporal play tricks
with his lieutenant's queue. Ramrods were some-
times left in the barrel when a volley was fired, to
the no small danger of the colonel in front. We had
a yeomanry corps composed of the choicest spirits of
our town. It was commanded by a pursy wine-
merchant, who was not so well mounted as his men.
६.
60
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
On more than one occasion, when he headed a charge,
they would open right and left, and leave him behind,
whilst he roared, "Unparalleled in the annals of war,
gentlemen." Full of fun as they were, our Volunteers
would have fought to the death if the necessity had
come. The Volunteer of my boyhood was not alto-
gether unprepared for war; for there was ball practice
at a target fixed in a chalk-pit. But, as far as I
recollect, the hits were as few as the ordinary calcu-
lation as to the musket-firing in a field of battle-
that not one shot in a hundred told. But what of
that? There was the same emulation as I have re-
joiced to look upon in the noble rivalry of the Wim-
bledon meeting of 1863. Though sixty years have
made all the difference between the musket and the
rifle, and more difference in the skill of the Volunteer,
the emulation both of one period and the other is
derived from our ancestry. There is a brass plate in
the parish church of Clewer, which was found in
1821, during some alterations of the old edifice. It
bears the following inscription:-
"He that liethe under this stone
Shott with a hundred men himselfe alone
This is trew that I doe saye
The matche was shott in ould felde at Bray
I will tell you before you go hence
That his name was Martine Expence."
We cannot tell the age in which Martin lived; we
know not whether he excelled in the use of the long
bow or the cross-bow, or challenged his hundred men
with the harquebus or the musket. But he was one
who has transmitted from the times of eld the con-
viction that the Englishman's right arm is the best
defence of his country.
§ I.]
61
A FRELUDE.
The King, in this summer of excitement, wast
constantly to be seen in the cocked hat and jack-
boots of the Blues, in which regiment he had a
troop of his own. He inspected this fine body
of soldiers, and his equally favoured Stafford Militia
(they were almost naturalized at Windsor), in the
quadrangle of the Upper Ward, as he walked to
church. He and his family had now quitted the
Queen's Lodge, and were established in far less com-
fortable apartments in the old Castle. He inspected
the Volunteers, who were drawn up under the wall
of the Round Tower. He invited their officers to be
present at the Sunday evening performances of
sacred music. He walked upon the Terrace-" every
inch a king"-and would call, with a stentorian
voice, for the band to play "Britons, strike home."
There was real grandeur in this patriotic excitement,
which spread through the nation. Its effects sus-
tained us during many subsequent years of doubtful
fortune. Beneath this bold front of the Sovereign
there was a little real alarm. I have an old manuscript
purporting to be a copy of the King's letter to the
Bishop of Worcester: "My dear good Bishop,—It
has been thought by some of my friends that it will
be necessary to remove my family. Should I be
under so painful a necessity, I do not know where I
could place them with so much satisfaction to myself,
and under Providence with so much security, as with
yourself and my friends at Worcester. It does not
appear to me probable that there will be any occasion
for it; for I do not think the unhappy man who
threatens us will dare to venture himself among us.
Neither do I wish you to make any preparation for us,
but I thought it right to give you this intimation.”
62
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
My holidays are over. My father writes to me, at
the end of August, that he is busy; for the Royal
Family are going to Weymouth. Every year did the
King thus visit his favourite watering-place. This
journey, actually exceeding a hundred miles, was the
most arduous exploration of his dominions which
George III. ever attempted. Wonderful to relate,
this annual excursion was accomplished in one long
summer's day. At an early hour the royal carriages,
and their escort of light dragoons, are clattering
through the streets of Windsor. Away they dash,
along turnpike roads, and sometimes through rough
lanes. The people of the towns are out to gaze and
shout. Villagers hear the rumour that the King, so
rarely seen, is coming; and the thrasher ever and
anon looks forth from his barn-door, whilst his wife
sits at the cottage porch spinning in the sun. Ma-
jesty has the rapid question and the ready joke for
the host of the roadside inn, as he bows to the ground
whilst the horses are changing. Half a century
almost would slip away before privileged directors,
and smart ladies waving their handkerchiefs, would
stand upon the railway platform, even for a passing
look at the highest and the most beloved in the land.
No corporations then thought it essential to their
own dignity—if not to the comfort of the illustrious
travellers to weary them with tedious addresses.
The huzza of a loyal crowd was quite as welcome as
the bows of a mayor and aldermen. In these excur-
sions to the coast, "Farmer George" would see many
rural sights with which he was familiar. He might
see five horses dragging a heavy plough over light
land. The liquid muck would be ancle-deep in the
yard of the untidy homestead. The bullocks would
§ I.]
63
A PRELUDE.
be lean and lanky; and the half-starved pigs would
be grubbing in the stubble of the field which was to
lie fallow for a year, to recruit its strength without
being troubled with turnip or mangel-wurzel. The
King would shake his head, and think upon his own
improvements at his Windsor farm. But would he
dream of a time when the five plough-horses should
be superseded by a steam-plough; when the thump
of the flail in the barn should be exchanged for the
hum of the thrashing-machine by the side of the rick;
when the cultivator should be a great manufacturer,
using every appliance of tool and machine with
which science could furnish him, grumbling no longer
at low prices, and fearless of foreign competition?
But I am wandering. Weymouth is reached with-
out any fuss. The next morning the King is on the
Esplanade, before breakfast has been thought of at
the genteel hotels and boarding-houses; and the
fishermen, who have just come in with the pro-
duce of their night's labour, are rather puzzled to
believe that the tall gentleman can be the King,
who asks the price of a turbot and does not wait
for an answer.
In the April of 1805 I went home for a week, that
I might behold the grand ceremony of the installation
of Knights of the Garter. I rather think I should
have preferred going to London to witness the won-
derful performance of Norval by the young Roscius,
of whose acting my schoolfellows were the enthusiastic
chroniclers when they returned from their Christmas
holidays. London had forgotten that in the December
of 1804 Bonaparte had been crowned by the Pope in
Notre Dame, as a necessary preliminary to his con-
quest of England. What cared the Londoners? There
64
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
was a boy of fourteen on the boards of Drury; and
at any cost, even at that of being crushed to death
at the pit-door, they would look upon this prodigy of
nature. The mania made Sheridan rich for a while.
The installation at Windsor a little diverted the
attention of the denizens of the capital. At Windsor
there was a procession to be looked upon, in which a
real King, and a real Prince of Wales, with dukes and
marquises and earls, wearing gorgeous mantles of
blue velvet, would do their best to bring back the
days of King Edward and his Knights of the Round
Table, and thus hurl a chivalric defiance to the
mushroom Court of the Tuileries. St. George's Day
was on a Tuesday. On the Monday, Windsor was in
a tumult of excitement far greater than in the ex-
perience of the oldest inhabitant. The road from
London presented the view of an almost endless suc-
cession of carriages. Hounslow could not meet the
demand for change of horses. The inns of our town
could not find standing for the carriages, so they
blocked up the streets. Ladies in coal-scuttle bonnets,
and gentlemen in monstrous Hessian boots, filled our
narrow pavements. The bells rang; the foot Guards
were inspected in the park; beds were occupied by the
wealthy at extravagant prices, whilst the curious
pedestrian paid half-a-guinea to stretch his limbs on
a tap-room settle. At eight o'clock on the morning
of the 23rd of April, the King presented, at the grand
entrance to the Castle, a pair of silver kettle-drums
to his favourite regiment, now called the Royal Horse
Guards Blue. The drums were lifted upon a grey
horse bestrid by a black man; the old walls resounded
with "God save the King," and "Britons, strike home.”
I quickly took a seat that had been purchased for me
§ I.]
65
A PRELUDE.
upon the broad parapet that looked down upon the
road that led to St. George's Chapel from the Nor-
man Gateway. The procession was to pass beneath.
I will not attempt a detailed description of impres-
sions I have already briefly recorded. The old King
marched erect; and the Prince of Wales bore himself
proudly (he did not look so magnificent as Kemble in
Coriolanus); but my Lord of Salisbury, and my Lord
of Chesterfield, and my Lord of Winchilsea, and half
a dozen other lords,-what a frightful spectacle of
fat, limping, leaden supporters of chivalry did they
exhibit to my astonished eyes! The vision of "throngs
of knights and barons bold" fled for ever. Were
these the very "salt of the earth," who were especially
prayed for in St. George's Chapel twice a day, as
'the Knights Companions of the most honourable and
noble Order of the Garter" ? *
At this period my father was printing and publish-
ing "The Miniature," a successor, after the lapse of
sixteen years, to the "Microcosm." One evening in
my holidays-for I had read "The Miniature" in
the weekly numbers, and had sent home my critical
opinions upon its merits-my father took me to call
upon the managing editor, Mr. Stratford Canning.
How well I remember his tall figure and handsome
face, with the down upon his chin. Some forty years
afterwards, at an entertainment given upon a trial-
trip of a frigate that had been built for the Sultan, I
was introduced to Sir Stratford Canning. I had much
talk with the great diplomatist about the progress
of education and of popular literature, in the efficacy
of which he did not appear to have any confident
*
VOL. I.
"Once upon a Time."
2
66
[§ I.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
belief. He talked, too, of that literary production of
his boyhood with which he associated my name. Of
course he spoke slightingly of it, as men who have
made their mark in the world generally do of their
juvenilia. There were, however, some literary mat-
ters of more importance arising out of the forgotten
Eton periodical. "Your father," said Mr. Murray to
me once after dinner, "helped to make my fortune.
When I kept a little trumpery shop in Fleet Street,
Dr. Rennell, the Master of the Temple, told me one
day that his son and young Canning owed an account,
for printing 'the Miniature,' to their publisher, who
held a good many unsold copies. I took the stock;
paid the account; made waste paper of the num-
bers; brought out a smart edition which had few
buyers; got the reputation of being a clever pub-
lisher; was introduced to George Canning, in con-
sequence of the service I had rendered to his cousin ;
and in a few years set up the 'Quarterly Review.""
§ II.]
67
A PRELUDE.
SECTION II.
AT the midsummer of 1805, I was taken altogether
from my school. It did not appear to me that I was
changing restraint for freedom. I left with bitter
feelings, for I had imbibed such a tincture of learning
as made me desirous to be a scholar. My father's
determination to put me to business, at the early age
of fourteen, did not pass without some remonstrance
from my schoolmaster. His answer was that I had
acquired enough knowledge to fit me for my station
in life; and if I became a bookseller I was not
likely to be treated as Johnson treated Osborne,
when he knocked him down with a folio, saying,
"Lie there, thou lump of lead." My destiny was
sealed when I signed my indenture of apprentice-
ship. My life, however, was not altogether without
opportunities of mental improvement. My first oc-
cupation interested me greatly. M. Porny, of whom
I have spoken, died in 1804, leaving my father
one of his executors. The co-executor declined to
act. With the exception of a few legacies, all M.
Porny's property, of which the residue exceeded
4000l., was bequeathed to a small charity school at
Eton. Upon his decease, letters which he had pre-
pared were forwarded to his surviving relatives at
Caen, and they manifested an intention to dispute
his chief bequest, under the Statute of Mortmain.
A friendly suit in Chancery was accordingly com-
menced; and it being necessary that a somewhat
voluminous French correspondence should be laid
E 2
68
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
before the Master in Chancery to whom the matter
was referred, my first literary task was to translate
the letters which had been sent and received during
the half century in which M. Porny had found a
refuge in England from the alleged unkindness of
his family. The probability is that the Master never
read either the originals or my translation; but
these letters were read by me with intense interest.
In them there was a mystery gradually unfolded, as
in some enchaining narrative of fiction. The real
name of the French teacher at Eton College-the
author of many elementary books, and of a well-
known volume on Heraldry, that bear the name
of A. Porny-was Antoine Pyron du Martre. Here
were depicted the undying memories of early wrongs ;
the strong will which had scorned all fellowship
of his kinsmen when the solitary native of Nor-
mandy was struggling for bread in a foreign land;
the triumphs of his pride in rejecting the proffered
kindness which came too late; the determination
that he would leave his hard-earned riches for the
benefit of the land in which he had gathered them.
The educational books of M. Porny are obsolete.
But there is a building in Eton, known as “Porny's
Free School," which will not pass into oblivion; for
here sixty boys and thirty girls are educated. The
old foreigner, as I knew him, was a Poor Knight of
Windsor. I have a curious account, in his own hand-
writing, of "most of all the expenses which I have
incurred for being made a Poor Knight of Windsor,"
in which the date of his removal from Eton to the
Castle is given as the 27th of November, 1781. This
paper is in some respects a singular record of a past
condition of society. It would appear that M. Porny's
§ II.]
69
A PRELUDE.
official residence in the Upper Foundation was in a
ruinous condition; that he had to bear the cost of re-
pairs himself, amounting in various items to more
than two hundred pounds, after he had vainly peti-
tioned the Board of Works, and had, with a sagacious
appreciation of the habits of public departments,
propitiated the local officer of the Board by presents
of two dozen of claret, two dozen of Madeira, a tur-
bot, and two lobsters. The good old Frenchman was
thus anything but a Poor Knight when he retired
from his labours. He lived in his lettered ease very
frugally for the accomplishment of his cherished
purpose of founding a Free School, having his chief
enjoyment in a small garden which he rented near
the town, wherein he built a sort of pavilion where
he worked and meditated.
And now began to be developed the peculiar
temptations of my position-the opportunity for
desultory reading to the neglect of all systematic
acquirement; the tendency to day-dreams and
morbid fancies, in the utter want of any improving
companionship with those of my own age. From
fourteen to seventeen I was learning the printer's
trade, more, as it were, for recreation than for use;
set no task-work, but occasionally working with irre-
gular industry at some self-appointed tasks. The
indulgence of my father was meant, I may believe,
to compensate me for his opposition to my desire for
a higher occupation than that which he pursued.
Thus I was often galloping my pony along the glades
of the forest; or watching my float, hour after hour,
from the Thames bank at Datchet or at Clewer;
or wandering, book in hand, by the river-side in the
early morning; or plunging into "the shade of
70
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES :
melancholy boughs" on some "sunshine holiday.”
I read the old novels and the old poems again and
again. Miss Porter and Mrs. Opie gave me fresh
excitement when I was tired of Mrs. Radcliffe.
"The Pleasures of Hope" and Beattie's "Minstrel "
had long been my familiar favourites. At this time
there were published charming little volumes of
verse and prose, as "Walker's Classics," one of which
was generally in my pocket. But in 1805 a new
world of romance was opened to me by "The Lay of
the Last Minstrel." The old didactic form of poetry
now seemed tedious compared with the adventures
of William of Deloraine, and the tricks of the Goblin
Page. Meanwhile my small Latin and less Greek
were vanishing away. The newspaper, too, occupied
much of my reading time. It was a period of tre-
mendous interest, even to the apprehension of a
boy. What an autumn and what a winter were
those of 1805, in which I was enabled, day by
day, to read the narratives of such deeds as stirred
the heart of England in the days of the great
Armada! Napoleon had broken up the camp at
Boulogne, and was marching to the Rhine. Nelson
had gone on board the "Victory" at Portsmouth,
and had joined the fleet before Cadiz. On the 3rd
of November came the news of the surrender of the
Austrian army to the French Emperor at Ulm.
On the 7th we were huzzaing for the final naval
glory of Trafalgar, and weeping for the death of
Nelson. Pitt rejoiced and wept when he was
called up in the night to receive this news, as the
humblest in the land rejoiced and wept. Before I
saw the funeral of Nelson, on the 9th of January,
Pitt had received that fatal mail which told of the
*
§ II.]
71
A PRELUDE.
destruction at Austerlitz of all his hopes of a
triumphant coalition against France. It broke his
heart. He died on the 23rd of January. Tame, by
comparison, as were the great public events which
followed these mighty struggles, they were perhaps
more exciting in the conflicting opinions which they
provoked. England was still heart-whole. She was
not dismayed, even when Napoleon had the Prussian
monarchy at his feet, and Alexander of Russia had
exchanged vows of friendship with him on the raft
at Tilsit. Though she became isolated in her great
battle for existence, her resolution was not exhausted.
But she was humiliated by the events of the Dar-
danelles and of Buenos Ayres. She blushed when
Copenhagen was bombarded, and she fancied that
the abstraction of the Danish fleet was a wanton
robbery. In this case, as in many others, journalism
was not history. The secret articles of the Treaty of
Tilsit had not then come to light for the vindication
of the Government.
The people at this time, even at Windsor, grew
gloomy and discontented. Public affairs were un-
prosperous; parties ran high; the taxes increased
with the expenses of the war and the yearly additions
to the interest of the debt. It was not only the
actual amount of taxation of which the middle classes
complained, but of the oppressive and insulting mode
of their assessment. The excisable trader had too long
been familiarised with the presence of the revenue
officer to complain. He walked into the tallow-
chandler's workshop without ceremony, put a seal
upon his copper and his dipping vat, and locked up his
moulds. He looked over the grocer's wares of tobacco,
pepper, and tea, at his good pleasure; and this pro-
72
´ [§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES :
cess, which he called taking stock, was insulting and
troublesome to the honest, and no real check upon
the fraudulent. The liquor-merchant did not dare
to send out a dozen of wine or a gallon of spirits
without a permit. The Income-Tax was truly inqui-
sitorial, for the local Commissioners had no hesitation
in ordering a tradesman to produce his ledger and
cash-book. If there was an error in the return of As-
sessed Taxes the resident officer of revenue, called an
Inspector, immediately made a surcharge, which it was
extremely difficult to get off by appeal. I was once
horror-struck by witnessing a scene between an apo-
plectic innkeeper and the tax-collector, who had no
alternative but to insist upon the payment of a con-
firmed surcharge. The unhappy man, doubly red
with passion, slid out of his arm-chair in the bar,
and, falling upon his knees, exclaimed, "May the
curse of God light upon you all. Now I'll pay it."
And yet, amidst much grumbling and disaffection,
the majority of my townsmen went on in the light-
hearted course which was habitual to them. There
were few fluctuations of fortune amongst us, as in a
manufacturing district; no sudden prostrations of
the capitalist; no exceptional miseries of the labourer.
There was amusement and excitement for us in the
invariable round of the weeks and months. The
4th of June was a great day of bell-ringing, and
reviews, and the regatta of the Eton boys, which
closed with fireworks. There were Ascot Races, to
which the Royal Family came in state up the course,
their carriages preceded by the master of the buck-
hounds, with his huntsman and his yeomen prickers.
Ascot was too distant from London for a multi-
farious assemblage from Tottenham Court Road
§ II.]
73
A PRELUDE.
and St. Mary Axe to be there. The neighbouring
gentry came in their carriages, and the farmers.
came in their taxed carts. A few Bow Street offi-
cers stood around the royal booth, but they were
not installed in the preventive duties of sup-
pressing E. O. tables, and of overturning the stools
of the numberless professors of "the thimble-rig"
and "prick in the garter." If a pickpocket were
detected, he had Lynch law. He was conducted
to a pond at the rear of the booths, and there, with
a long rope fastened round his waist, was dragged
through the water till he was half dead. There
was the weekly meet of the hounds, who duly
went forth to some neighbouring common from the
kennel at Swinley, with the deer in the cart. It
was not necessary to give the poor animal much
law, for the stag-hound of that day was slow, and
there were more hacks than hunters in the field.
The King walked as usual on the Terrace, but
loyalty was not so demonstrative as in the earlier
days. The Marquis of Thomond knocked off a
man's hat when it was not lifted as the King passed,
and the suspected democrat knocked down the Mar-
quis of Thomond.
Left much to my own thoughts, young as I was, I
gradually grew into a chronic state of suspicion as
to the general excellence of our political and social
system. I saw a vast deal of wretchedness around me,
and I saw no attempt to relieve it except by doles of
bread at the church door on Sundays, with an indis-
criminate alms-giving to vagrants every night by the
overseer, and a driving of them out of the borough by
the beadle the next day. There was no education,
except at the Free School for some thirty boys and
74
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
twenty girls. The national school of Eton, which the
good old Frenchman founded, preceded our Windsor
national school by fifteen years. Out relief to the
poor was voted every week by a committee with a
lavish hand. The assistant overseer insulted the
weak, and was bullied by the strong. The parish
gravel-pit was the specific for want of employment,
continuous or temporary. The poor's rate was enor-
mous, for there was destitution everywhere through
sickness and death, produced by the contempt of
sanitary laws. There was no dispensary, and the
parish doctor was hard worked and ill paid. It is
difficult, in these happier times of fiscal enlighten-
ment, to estimate what the poor had to endure in the
incidence of taxation. The great burden which they
had to bear was in the dearness of food. Without
mentioning the effect upon their means of living by
the laws for the protection of agriculture-which told
upon the market-price not only of bread, but of meat,
bacon, butter, cheese-there was excessive direct
taxation for the purposes of revenue upon sugar,
upon tea, upon coffee, upon soap, upon candles, upon
salt. They lived in miserable hovels, for there were
duties of enormous pressure upon bricks, upon foreign
timber, upon glass. The cost of a cotton gown was
enhanced by the duties upon raw cotton and upon
printed calicos. Worst of all, the effect of this vast
mass of injudicious taxes was to arrest the profitable
employment of capital, and thus to reduce the labourer
to the lowest condition. The oppression and the
neglect which I witnessed all around me,-evils
of which I did not see the causes or anticipate
the remedies, drove me into those socialistic beliefs.
which it is a mistake to think did not exist in
§ II.]
75
A PRELUDE.
young and incautious minds long before the present
day. I was a sort of Communist in 1808. In a
satirical poem (whose MS. has turned up with other
rubbish of verse and prose stored in an old box) I
poured out my indignation against the indifference
and pride, lay and clerical, which I saw around me.
I find there these lines, which I give, believe me,
not as evidence of poetical talent but of a jaundiced
imagination. Many have written much of the same
stuff at a riper age than mine, who have in time
learnt the worth of more practical philanthropy.
But surely that youth is to be pitied who begins by
setting up for a political economist.
"Hail happy days, primeval ages hail,
Which deck the warm enthusiast's glowing tale,
When simple Nature, pure and unconfined,
With equal gifts ennobled all mankind;
When hardy energy and rugged toil
Alone could snatch the blessings of the soil,
And wearied diligence return'd to seize
The cup of pleasure in the lap of ease!
Now when the hand of unsubstantial worth
Grasps every treasure of the teeming earth,
And Nature vainly spreads her equal store
Whilst millions, heirs of plenty, still are poor,
Say, shall the glittering pomp of pride despise
The humble toil that taught the proud to rise?
Say, shall the wretched, all-laborious hind
In vain demand the bread he gives mankind?”
I fear that in this unwatched time of morbid
thoughts my religious principles were in as great
danger of running wild as my political. I had read
some of the old divines-Hall, and Barrow, and
Jeremy Taylor-with real benefit. I fear that I
acquired a sceptical humour from such defences of
the faith as Watson's "Apology for the Bible," and
76
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
""
Lyttelton's "Conversion of St. Paul." They attempted
to prove too much to satisfy my reason, which they
addressed exclusively. They did not marshal their
proofs with the consummate skill displayed by Sher-
lock in his "Trial of the Witnesses;" nor did they
charm away the mists of doubt by the tolerant and
fearless candour of Berkeley in his "Alciphron."
Beattie's "Essay on Truth" did not sink deep into
my heart, although the King and Queen had lauded
it as the greatest of all theological triumphs, as if
there had been no such book as Butler's "Analogy.
The service at our church was too cold and formal—
often too slovenly-to satisfy me. There was no con-
gregational singing. Chaunts and musical responses
were unknown. I got away from it, whenever I could,
to find a seat in St. George's Chapel, where the cathe-
dral service was exquisitely performed. On Sunday
the choir was full; but I could stand by the iron
gates of the south aisle, and hear every note of the
rich harmonies of Boyce and Handel breathed from
the lips of Sale or Vaughan. On a frosty winter
evening of the week-day it mattered little to me
that the choir was empty and cold. I yielded up
my whole heart to the soothing influences. I was
sometimes glad to be admitted into a stall by a good-
natured verger; for at times my attention was sadly
distracted by the tricks and grimaces of the young
choristers, who, as they knelt in apparent prayer,
were occupied in modelling hideous figures out of
the ends of their wax candles. Such were the secrets
disclosed to me as I commonly sat on the free bench
by the side of the sportive lads. These practices
were gradually extinguished by a better discipline;
but there was one practice which no discipline could
SII.]
77
A PRELUDE.
control, for it was an institution as old as the days
of James I. Decker, in his "Gull's Horn-book,"
thus ironically advises the lounger in Paul's: "Be
sure your silver spurs clog your heels, and then the
boys will swarm about you like so many white
butterflies; when you, in the open quire, shall draw
forth a perfumed embroidered purse, and quoit silver
into the boys' hands." Thus have I seen a stranger
civilian stalk into the choir of St. George's Chapel.
The spur was instantly detected; and when the
bewildered man was surrounded by a bevy of white
surplices as he loitered in the nave, there was no
help for him but to pay the spur-money.
Such interruptions to the beauty and solemnity
of the service were not sufficient to prevent their
abiding impressions; and thus the salt of devotion
was not wholly washed out of me. I was, how-
ever, well nigh rushing into the desert, in going
through the ceremony which was to keep me in
the fold. I had diligently prepared myself for
Confirmation. Dr. Fisher, Bishop of Salisbury, was
to perform the rite. There was an absence of all
solemnity, and even of decency, upon which I look
back with disgust. I still see the bishop's officers
driving the young people to the altar-rails as if
they were sheep going to the fair; the monotonous
formality of the imposition of hands upon the
huddled batches who knelt for a few minutes, and
then were chased back to their seats by the impatient
ministers of the solemnity. Its failure altogether to
satisfy my excited feelings compelled me into a
passion of tears, and I went home and told my
father that I would be a Quaker or a Unitarian.
I think that Confirmation confirmed whatever was
78
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
sceptical in my composition; and I had to escape
into the region of natural piety, and long dwell there,
before I could become reconciled to the establish-
ment which could endure such profanations.
Up to my sixteenth or seventeenth year I had
found little in my professional pursuits to interest
me. But I then became what Mr. Hill Burton terms
a "Bookhunter." My father was always a great
buyer of second-hand books. He attended sales.
He purchased private libraries. He bought many
more books than he sold. Many of his rare volumes
had been heaped up in cupboards till I routed
them out, and made a complete catalogue of some
thousands. This occupation was of lasting advan-
tage to me, in widening my horizon of knowledge.
I was led to study and abstract, not only Dibdin
and De Bure, but the catalogues of great London
booksellers, such as those of White and Egerton and
Cuthell (the predecessors of the later and greater
authorities). These enlightened my provincial esti-
mate of value by "scarce,'
"scarce," "rare,"
very rare.
To hunt in brokers' shops; to attend sales, and
sometimes bid for volumes that I carried home in
triumph at a small price; to talk with gusto to an
old apothecary at Slough about black-letter treasures;
this was a pursuit that weaned me from many of my
idle reveries, and was not without its use in later
life. The remembrance of that worthy book-col-
lector of the then small village of Slough fills me,
even now, with a sort of pride at the honour of
having been regarded by him with a feeling that we
were fellow-travellers upon the same road—he with
his large experience and superb acquisitions, I with
my newly-developed bibliomania and small store of
((
""
§ II.]
79
A PRELUDE.
treasures. Often have I peeped into his little shop
on the high road,-strong in many odours among
which rhubarb prevailed,—to see if my master was
at liberty to discourse to a pupil on his favourite
theme. He would suspend his labours, if he were
not too busy, and hand over the pestle to his atten-
dant boy. We then went up his narrow staircase
into his sanctum. His first words invariably were,
"What have you got?" I remember to have found
upon a stall in Windsor market two black-letter
pamphlets of the early English Reformers. They
were not much to his taste when I produced them;
nor did he care for a rare Elzevir which I brought
out of my pocket. He would then unlock the cas-
ket where he kept his jewels, and would delight my
eyes with something rich and rare that he had
recently obtained in a hasty visit to London, made
for the especial purpose of a book-hunt. How well
do I recollect the glow of his honest face as he
placed before me a Wynkyn de Worde, torn and
dirty, but nevertheless a fit companion for the im-
perfect Caxton on his most sacred shelf. Missals he
had, and early English Bibles. They ranged har-
moniously side by side. I soon grew to laugh at Dr.
Peckham's enthusiasm ; but better thoughts would
suggest to me how good it was that an old man who
had no cares of children to engross him,—one who had
little aptitude for the acquirement of real knowledge,
scientific or literary—should have a pursuit which was
intensely gratifying to him, and had a semblance of
learning to the world as well as to himself.
Even as Sir William Jones advised the young
Templar to read over law catalogues at his break-
fast, that he might gain a general perception of
80
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
the learning of which he desired to become the
master, so I gained something like a broad view
of the range of literature by my bibliographical
studies. In these dealings in second-hand books,
a circumstance occurred which I think had some
effect in leading me to one of the most pleasant
labours of my future life. I had been sent to a
house at Old Windsor to make a list of books belong-
ing to a clergyman who had received an appointment
in India. When the price to be given had been
settled at home, I again went to make the offer, with
the money in my hand. The generous man was
pleased with what he considered liberal terms, and
said to me, "Young gentleman, I give you that
imperfect copy of Shakspere for yourself." It was
the first folio. Sadly defective it was in many
places. I devised a plan for making the rare volume
perfect. The fac-simile edition, then recently pub-
lished, was procured. Amongst the oldest founts of
type in our printing-office was one which exactly
resembled that of the folio of 1623. We had abun-
dant fly-leaves of seventeenth-century books which
matched the paper on which this edition was printed.
I set myself the task of composing every page that
was wholly wanting, or was torn and sullied. When
the book was handsomely bound I was in raptures at
my handiwork. I was to have the copy for myself;
but one of the Eton private-tutors, to whom my
father showed the volume, and explained how it had
been completed, offered a tempting price for it, and
my treasure passed from me. Some real value
remained. The process of setting up the types led
me to understand the essential differences of the
early text, as compared with modern editions with
§ II.]
81
A PRELUDE.
which I was familiar, especially those which had been
maimed and deformed for the purposes of the stage.
What would I not now give, could I obtain this
testimonial that I had not been altogether uselessly
employed in this morning of my life, before a definite
purpose for the future had given energy and consis-
tency to my pursuits!
My future walk in the world was gradually shaping
itself into a distant view of a practicable hill-side
road. It became clear to me that, as the professions
seemed to be shut out from my adoption by my
father's anxious desire that I should remain with him,
my only way of escape from the petty cares of the
trade of a country bookseller and small printer was to
make literature, in some way or other, my vocation.
It was not by writing commonplace essays and occa-
sional odes and sonnets (which I had the sense to
burn as fast as they were composed) that I was to
carry out this purpose. If I were to accomplish any-
thing, I must have a locus standi. There was my
father's printing-office; he was not without capital.
Windsor, with its objects of interest, was without a
newspaper. Some day, not very far off, should my
ambition gain me the conduct of such a journal? I
felt that the vocation of a journalist-even of a pro-
vincial journalist-required thought, energy, various
knowledge. I applied myself to study the history of
my country and the nature of its institutions.
had De Lolme and Blackstone often at my side.
Burke enchanted me. Yet I did not wholly sur-
render my political faith to the eloquent philosophy
which had become Toryism, and which, in the dread
of the French Revolution, was opposed to every
change and every obvious remedy for the grossest
VOL. I.
I
I
82
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
abuses. The Hunts-John and Leigh-began to
publish "The Examiner" in 1808. To my enthu-
siastic views, the Hunts were the true men-almost
the only ones who spoke the truth-as the younger
brother was the most winning of periodical writers.
Then there was the "Edinburgh Review"-advo-
cating Catholic Emancipation and many practical
reforms which were held as dangerous innovations,
and which, in their terror of the word "innovation,"
legislators were afraid to touch. But when the Re-
viewers were indiscriminately denouncing the conduct
of the war and the imbecility of the Government-
bitter in their sarcasms against administrative mis-
takes, depressing in their belief of the hopelessness
of the contest, and ungenerous in their appreciation of
the only military leader who seemed likely to stand
between the living and the dead and stay the plague,
-I could see, however imperfectly, the one-sidedness
of political partizanship which neutralized the best
efforts of the Whig Journal. Conflicting opinions
sometimes distracted me. There were the alterna-
tions of joy and of gloom, of confidence and of despair,
as the events of 1808-9 presented themselves to
view. The insurrection of the Spanish Patriots was
a beacon-light amidst the darkness. The people
were shouting one day for Wellesley's triumph over
Junot, and the next day cursing the Convention of
Cintra. Moore had marched into Spain in No-
vember; on the 1st of January he had accomplished
his disastrous retreat to Corunna, there won a vic-
tory and died a soldier's death. Never shall I forget
my feelings on the bitter cold day on which this
news arrived, nor the indignation with which, some
months after, his Journal was perused. There came
§ II.]
83
A PRELUDE.
to Windsor the son of a joiner, who had left his
father's house a stalwart dragoon, and returned
crippled and emaciated from the Spanish campaign.
He lent me his simple diary of his sufferings and
privations, which told of the horrors of war far
more forcibly than the newspaper reports of the
wounded and fever-stricken who filled the hospitals.
The public mind was inflamed by the mixed feelings
of disappointment and pity. Then came the wretched
inquiry into the conduct of the Duke of York. The
hopes that had been revived of Germany being
roused to resistance were dissipated by the battle of
Wagram. The expectation of a mighty blow to be
struck by England single-handed against France, by
the greatest armament that had ever left our shores,
came to an end in the pestilent marshes of Wal-
cheren. Talavera failed to raise the once-sanguine
national spirit. It was a long while before many
people warmed into hope and confidence; months,
and even years, before they could fully learn to dis-
believe the prophecies of the Whigs, and refuse to
throw themselves in the dust before the car of the
conqueror. For myself, I had the old patriotic asso-
ciations around me to prevent me wholly agreeing
with the freeholders of my county in their address
to the King, that, "under the government of persons
apparently inadequate to avert the dangers and diffi-
culties of the country, we see no end to our misfor-
tunes." I was not yet prepared to write Finis
Angliæ. With my fellow-townspeople of all ranks
and ages, I went into the boundless excitement of
the Jubilee of the 25th of October; was a manager
of the ox-roasting in the Bachelor's Acre; marched
in a procession of Bachelors, in the evening costume
F 2
84
[S II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
of blue coat, white waistcoat, knee-breeches, and silk
stockings, to present slices of the ox on a silver salver
to the Queen and Princesses; danced at the Jubi-
lee Ball, at the Town Hall; and wrote satirical
verses upon the genteel exclusives who attempted
to separate the attorneys' wives and daughters from
the grocers' wives and daughters, by stretching a
silken rope across the room, thus forming two sets.
I somehow recollect that the plebeian ladies were as
well dressed, and rather more beautiful, than those
above the rope, so that a good many of the exalted
were left without partners-at least, by the younger
officers of the Blues and the Stafford Militia.
Windsor was a town that had ceased, in those days,
to be the residence of many persons of independent
fortunes. There was mushroom gentility growing up
at the Castle's foot; there was the unapproachable
dignity of Canons of Windsor and Fellows of Eton;
there were the pretensions of brewers and corn-
dealers, who flattered themselves that they ranked
far above shopkeepers. An atmosphere of proud
ignorance was surrounding the whole region. I had
a confident belief that I could do something, among
my own class, to dissipate this fog. In 1810 I formed
some dozen young men into a Reading Society. We
hired a room of the corporation in connection with
the Town Hall. They elected me their President.
Twenty-three years afterwards Sir John Herschel was
the President of a similar society at Windsor; and in
a lecture which I then delivered I told my old towns-
men how we had failed, and what were the changes
of opinion that had made one of the greatest scientific
men of the age a leader in the diffusion of intelli-
gence, whilst ridicule awaited the earlier effort of
§ 11.]
85
A PRELUDE.
myself and a few others. In the old box of forgotten
records of my tentative progress to usefulness in my
generation, I find my inaugural address. Let me
copy a passage to exhibit a specimen of the good old
times:
"An opinion has been set forth with no little
activity, and with a plausibility of ridicule sufficient
to actuate those who ought to have united most
cordially in this measure-a cry which has been
raised in the haunts of the ignorant and at the
tables of the educated-that it is departing from our
proper sphere of action to engage in pursuits of this
nature. These sagacious reasoners would imply that
the common reward of ordinary occupation is suffi-
cient to engross every faculty of the industrious part
of the community. No pursuits shall fill up the hour
of relaxation but those of trifling vulgarity or listless
inaction. Good heavens! when I devote myself to
occupations which are alike rendered necessary by
my duty and my interest, am I to extinguish every
honourable and praiseworthy feeling and rest satisfied
with the torpid exercise of daily drudgery? When
these cold-hearted bigots would thus exclude me from
every gratification of intellect, why do they not
demand that I should close my eyes to the appear-
ances of universal nature, where every object excites
my curiosity and my wonder? I am so sufficiently
convinced of the dignity and importance of an indus-
trious life, that I will never exchange it for the gaudy
insipidity of luxurious idleness; but I will yet ear-
nestly endeavour to raise its importance, by acquisi-
tions that will exempt me from the oppressions of
power or the arrogance of wealth.”
Let me not, looking back upon these days, do
86
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
injustice to those who prevented the extension of
what would now be called a "Literary and Scientific
Institution." I believe we were ourselves exclusives;
and that if any one of our members had proposed
the admission of the most intelligent journeyman
amongst us, the sons of substantial tradesmen and
the lawyers' or bankers' clerks would have hooted
him down. The age of mechanics' institutes, in which
it is desired, if not altogether attained, that all are
to meet on the common platform of knowledge, was
still far off. The opinions of the great majority were
against adult education altogether. The young men
of the middle class were to rest satisfied with their
small school acquirements. For the working class
to read books was to make them dangerous members
of society. Nevertheless, some did read; and their
reading was not altogether of that innocent but
dreary kind which those who dropped tracts in poor
men's homes, about the duty of loyal obedience and
reverential content, thought sufficient the next best
thing to the old safe ignorance.
A great revolution was coming over Windsor. In
November, 1810, the Princess Amelia died. The
youngest daughter of George III. perhaps the
most beautiful of a beautiful female family-had for
some years been a sufferer from a malady which the
best surgical advice had arrested but had failed to
cure. One of the Frogmore fêtes was given in
honour of her supposed restoration, and I remember
a transparency of Hygeia, which was an emblem of
gratitude for a signal blessing. After the death of
the Princess, I had the task of making a catalogue
of her well-selected library, in the suite of apartments
which she occupied on the East side of the Castle.
§ II.]
87
A PRELUDE.
It seemed like a voice from the tomb when I recently
lighted upon a touching prayer, which I had copied
from a blank leaf of her Prayer Book. It will not
now be considered a violation of confidence if I
print it:
"Gracious God, support thy unworthy servant in
this time of trial. Let not the least murmur escape
my lips, nor any sentiment but of the deepest resig-
nation enter my heart; let me make the use Thou
intendest of that affliction Thou hast laid upon me.
It has convinced me of the vanity and emptiness of.
all things here; let it draw me to Thee as my
support, and fill my heart with pious trust in Thee,
and in the blessings of a redeeming Saviour, as the
only consolations of a state of trial. Amen."
The illness of the Princess Amelia produced an
effect upon the mind of the King from which he
never recovered. It is scarcely necessary for me to
repeat the story of the ring which she placed upon
her father's finger, nor to infer the mysteries which
were supposed to be involved in that solemn appeal
to his affection. This interview is popularly held to
have called forth, with a fatal intensity, the dormant
insanity of his constitution. At the beginning of
1811 the Regency Bill passed. Then we looked upon
the Queen's council-archbishops, chancellor, chief
justices, master of the rolls, lord-chamberlain, master
of the horse-driving through our streets, for their
periodical inspection of their afflicted sovereign. The
council of the 6th of April, 1811, was thus attended.
Rumours soon went forth that the King was better.
On Sunday night, the 20th of May, our town was in
a fever of excitement, at the authorised report that
88
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
the next day the physicians would allow his Majesty
to appear in public. On that Monday morning it
was said that his saddle-horse was ordered to be got
ready. This truly was no wild rumour. We crowded
to the Park and the Castle Yard. The favourite
horse was there. The venerable man, blind but
steady, was soon in the saddle, as I had often seen
him, a hobby-groom at his side with a leading
rein. He rode through the Little Park to the Great
Park. The bells rang; the troops fired a feu de joie.
The King returned to the Castle within an hour. He
was never again seen outside those walls.
The failure of my scheme of an association for
mutual improvement was a blow to me. I had other
mortifications which disgusted me more and more
with my position, and made me fear that it would be
a wild attempt to establish a journal at Windsor. I
was again driven to the moody companionship of my
own thoughts. For two years the dear tutor of my
school-days at Ealing had resided near Windsor—
occasionally doing duty at our church-once more
my warm friend and instructor. Under his guidance
I accomplished a distant and a wearisome travel, but
with a new sense of pleasure in beholding unfamiliar
scenes. With him I saw the sea for the first time.
With him I made the tedious and somewhat
perilous passage from London Bridge to Margate.
Ye happier youths and maidens of another gene-
ration, smile not at the epithets I bestow upon this
sail upon a summer-sea. None of you citizens of the
25th of Victoria can fitly understand what those had
to go through in the 50th of George III., who ven-
tured upon the deck of a Margate hoy. The quick
run in the steamer from Tilbury after the comfortable
§ II.]
89
A PRELUDE.
+
early dinner, and then your shrimps and tea in your
lodging-house long before the sun is down-contrast
these delights with what I have to remember. A
hurried breakfast at six, so as to be on board at
seven; two hours of danger amidst the colliers in the
Pool; a pelting storm in the river, with no luxurious
cabin to fly to; Gravesend clock striking two as we
drifted past the dingy town; hungry; the steward
provided with no more tempting fare than a slice of
hard boiled-beef and a lump of stony cheese; no
drink but rum and water, for brandy was almost
unknown and soda-water undiscovered; the wind
rising; the waves raging; groans above and below;
darkness soon after we had passed the Nore; then
the hoy becalmed off Herne Bay; Margate cliffs in
sight as another morning breaks; no pier to land at;
a pickaback ride through the surf in a dirty fellow's
grasp; a struggle between the temptations of break-
fast or bed; a decision for bed; and a second day al-
most gone before we can find our appetite or our legs.
Circumstances too soon removed the friend of my
boyhood to a distant part of the country.
alone. I pined for the conversation of educated men.
No one took heed of me. I writhed under neglect;
but I lost little in not being familiar with those
above me in station. There was a coarseness of
manners, not only amongst half-pay officers and
retired tradesmen, but amongst persons of indepen-
dent means and good families—aye, even amongst
courtiers-which revolted me. I have heard at our
mayor's feast toasts proposed by men whose rank gave
them a claim to the seats of honour, which the lowest
and the most ignorant would now be ashamed to utter.
Notwithstanding my strong local attachment, I grew
I was
90
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
to be thoroughly disgusted with my position at
Windsor. About this time I became possessed of a
small entailed estate at Iver, which I fancied would
give me the means of emancipation from a life that
had become distasteful to me. I entreated my father
to enter me as a student at one of the Inns of Court.
He at last gave a reluctant consent, and went to
London, to make the necessary arrangements, as I
believed. We neither of us knew much about the pro-
bationary condition of a barrister's life, and it was
necessary to obtain some accurate information. His
friend, the Editor of a daily paper (of whom I shall
have more particularly to speak), dissuaded my father
from encouraging my ambition. The Bar, as he re-
presented it, was a profession of which the prizes were
very few. If they came at all, they had to be waited
for during a long and dreary time. Many a clever
man, as he had seen, had struggled for the five years
before his call, and had then to starve through an-
other ten years before he got a brief. To live in
London was expensive; and thus the young man
who had set out with a vision of the Great Seal to
marshal him the way that he was going, gave up the
Pleader's desk to learn the use of the Reporter's note-
book; became corrupted by the careless and dissi-
pated life of too many "gentlemen of the press";
was cut off from domestic happiness; and passed
through the world unhonoured-a careless sensualist
or a splenetic misanthrope. My father returned home
with such a dismal picture of the life which I had
courted, that I somewhat doggedly resumed my easy
and inglorious occupation; not without a belief that
"There's a Divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.”
§ II.]
91
A PRELUDE.
In the autumn of 1811 I had a few weeks of hap-
piness, in which I regained something of my con-
fidence in the existence of goodness and kindness.
The Countess of Orkney, who lived at Cliefden—
occupying the wings of the old palatial mansion
whose principal front had been burnt down a few
years before, but whose fame was imperishable, as
the "Cliefden's proud alcove" of Pope-desired to
have a catalogue made of a large collection of books
that had been long neglected. I was sent to accom-
plish this work, in the most charming of seasons, and
surrounded by the most delightful of scenery. An
artist of some eminence in his own walk of animal
painting, R. B. Davis, was there also, repairing the
pictures. My companion, who was some years my
elder, had been the pupil of probably the worst painter
of his day, but nevertheless enjoying a fashionable re-
putation-Sir Francis Bourgeois. Richard Davis was
the son of the huntsman of the Royal Harriers. He
was the brother of Charles Davis, who in his vigo-
rous old age rides across a country as few young ones
would dare, and who has seen more revolutions in
the hunting field than most living men. George III.,
inspecting some of the lad's sketches, placed him with
the Polish Knight, who was the King's own land-
scape-painter. In this position the young student
had extraordinary advantages in cultivating his taste,
by such an acquaintance with the old masters as few
could obtain at the time when the continent was
closed to travellers. He assisted Sir Francis and
Noel Desenfans in forming that noble collection
which now constitutes the Dulwich Gallery. Often
have I heard him, loyal subject as he was, execrate the
memory of Pitt for his contempt of art. After the
92
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
death of Desenfans, who had bequeathed these choice
cabinet pictures to his friend, Bourgeois went to the
great minister, and proposed to give the collection to
the nation, if the Government would build a gallery
to receive them. "We have no money for such
objects," said Pitt. Thus the Desenfans treasures
went to the college founded by Alleyn the actor; and
the rich landscape-painter bequeathed also to that
obscure foundation two thousand pounds to build the
gallery in which we now look upon them in a clear
atmosphere. The art-knowledge of my companion
enlarged my range of ideas. But the chief happiness
of that autumn was due to the noble lady who was
the owner of Cliefden-the inheritor of the Peerage
bestowed upon the companion in arms of Marlborough
-in grace and dignity the type of la vieille cour
in unaffected courtesy the memorial of a stately but
genial aristocracy that was passing away. She came
to talk with us about books and paintings. She
urged us to make holiday afternoons. We rambled
in the woods that crowned the chalky heights, or
let our skiff drop down the unruffled Thames beneath
those delicious banks. I there wrote a descriptive
poem which was printed. It pleased Lady Orkney,
and that was sufficient for me to defy criticism.
Cliefden has passed into the hands of another
great family whose wondrous prosperity is associated
with ancestral victories of peace rather than with
those of war. With permission, the woods amidst
which I wandered may still be trodden by the
stranger. But no permission is wanting to linger out
an autumnal eve under those magnificent banks,
leaving the boat to glide slowly and noiselessly along,
as if it were unwilling to disturb the exquisite mirror
§ II.]
93
A PRELUDE.
which reflects every form and every colour of the
varied foliage. What walks are there still left in
that charming neighbourhood, which the dweller in
the great city may enjoy to the full after an hour's
railway-ride! Let him cross the Thames at Cook-
ham and ascend the hill to Hedsor, to look upon a
scene which others have felt to be as beautiful as I
felt it to be in my early manhood. My heart leapt
up, a short while since, when I read in Henry Kings-
ley's "Ravenshoe" a description of a landscape, every
feature of which I should have recognised even though
he had not said, "You may see just such a scene,
with variations, of course, from Park Place, or Hedsor,
or Cliefden, or fifty other houses, on the king of
rivers." "The Plain Englishman" (of which work I
shall have to speak) contains a tale written by me, and
my description of the scene in which the story is laid
points unmistakeably to Hedsor: "The situation of
this churchyard was one of singular loveliness. It
terminated a hill, which, for several miles, formed a
precipitous and rugged bank to the curving river
which it overshadowed. The cliffs of chalk, some-
times rising abruptly from the water's edge, without
a path or verdure, and sometimes presenting a slip of
grass or foliage, where the human foot was wont to
tread-here and there adorned with stately beeches,
towering one above the other in clustering pride,
and here and there discovering only a few ancient
and fantastic yews;-the expanse of luxuriant pas-
tures, through which the Thames wandered, with
their scattered habitations of contented industry;-
the gently-swelling hills of the distance, marking the
horizon with their soft outlines, and carrying the
imagination forward to the devious course of the
94
[§ II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
*
same placid river between their bosoms;-this land-
scape possessed all the richness and grace of lowland
scenery, with some small portion of the wildness that
belongs to the regions of rapid streams and mighty
mountains. But it was strictly English scenery; and
such scenery as England only can furnish, in its
fertility and variety."
In the spring of 1812 the old familiar intercourse
of the Sovereign with his people was at an end at
Windsor. The Terrace was shut up. Soon was the
ancient pathway under the Castle diverted. All was
changed at the time my own life was changing. I
was soon to look upon a world of stern realities. I
was to have other remembrances to note than the
fleeting visions of my boyhood.
I stand upon the threshold of "A Working Life
during Half a Century." I had a few months of
experiment before the final choice of a career; but
those months brought with them new responsibilities,
which were essentially work. My trade apprentice-
ship was ended. I had to begin in the metropolis
that apprenticeship to literature through the rough
ways of journalism, which many a young man has
found to have been not the least improving part of
his education. With some reminiscences which
hover round Windsor I shall conclude this Prelude.
It was, perhaps, not the worse for me that the old
pleasures of the scenes amidst which I lived had lost
none of their original charms. I doubt whether I
ever thought it perfect wisdom
"To scorn delights and live laborious days."
But at this period I could look upon a future of
"laborious days" as not incompatible with "delights,"
§ 11.]
95
A PRELUDE.
such as Milton himself might not have scorned in his
early life on the banks of the Colne.
From the tenth year of my boyhood till after I
entered upon man's estate, I had tried every variety of
angling, from the whipping for bleak on a warm even-
ing in May, to the trolling for pike on a gray morning
in October. I am not ashamed to confess that in these
pursuits I was singularly unlucky. I at last arrived
at a lurking suspicion either that angling was a lost
art, or that our river was so universally fished-not
angled but netted-or that fortune was so unjust that
I was not one of the happy persons to whom Izaak
Walton discourses of "a trout that will fill six rea-
sonable bellies."
And yet I look back upon these days of hope
deferred with infinite delight. Upon the banks of
the Thames, long after the halcyon season of a school-
boy's leisure, have I wandered, rod in hand, into
secluded nooks, where scarcely sound was ever heard
but the noise of the kingfisher diving down plumb
into the deep; or I have sculled the rickety Eton
skiff (not so dangerous as the modern canoe) up the
crystal current, till the evening star has warned me
that my course must be retraced over the dangerous
shallows and the dead waters. Often, at that silent
hour, have I partly learnt the secret of the marvel-
lous ill-fortune of ambitious anglers of the unpre-
served Thames. Many a time, in the sober twilight,
have I seen the river-poacher busy with his eel-lines
and his baskets under some bank of osiers, looking
around with fearful suspicion, as the wind swept along
the rippling water, and creeping closer under the
shadow of the willow, as the light clouds flew off
from the face of the rising moon. But I must not
96
[s II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
""
wholly blame the secret enemy of "the contemplative
man. The truth is that I was an idle votary of the
seductive art. I had the contentedness and the love
of meditation of the steadiest angler, but not the
patience. I would stick the barbel-rod into the bank,
and lie down upon the soft grass, far away from the
busy world, to gaze upon the shifting rack; or per-
chance resign my heart to Spenser or Tasso, while
the reel in vain gave notice of the unprofitable bite.
I despised the early lessons I had received from an
enthusiastic student of Walton and Cotton, who inva-
riably passed over their descriptive and poetical pas-
sages, which only were heeded by his unworthy pupil.
The painful instructions he had given me in the
science of artificial fly-making were wholly forgotten.
I have taken the first clumsy imitation of the willow-
fly or the gray drake, which the cunning woman who
dealt in tackle routed out from her ancient stores;
and have gone home at night without an ounce in
my basket, abundantly satisfied to have had an excuse
for passing a holiday afternoon-truly caring little
for the sport,
"So I the fields and meadows green might view,
And by the quiet river walk at will.”
In these river-rambles I was not altogether use-
lessly occupied, for my mind was growing in its love
of Nature. But I was not turning my wanderings
to direct use, as was a young Naturalist at a some-
what later period. I have seen a youth, apparently
idle, lying under the willow-branches in a little boat,
with a book on his knee and a gun by his side. There
is a well-known sound, and the gun is cocked. The
kingfisher has darted upon his prey. As he rises
with a minnow, and his orange-breast and green-blue
§ II.]
97
A PRELUDE.
tail glitter in the evening sun, his flight is ended.
In a few days he is stuffed, sitting on a pendant
bough ready for the plunge. The mechanical skill
of this youth amazes the unscientific bird-stuffers,
who have lost their trade. Good judges of Natural
History eagerly buy these remarkable specimens of
life in death. More useful patrons than casual pur-
chasers perceive his rare merit. He is engaged by
the Zoological Society to prepare specimens for their
Museum. He marries. His wife has an equally rare
talent for delineating objects of Natural History with
accuracy and taste. They publish a beautiful ex-
ample of their joint ability-he as the accurate
author, she as the accomplished artist-" A Century
of Birds from the Himalaya Mountains." After a
few years they will travel together in regions far
remote from the home-scenes of their early days,
to produce volumes as magnificent as they are
scientific. When I think of the young naturalist of
Eton, I look back with some regret upon my own
purposeless wanderings by the creeks of the Thames,
where John Gould was educating himself to rival
Wilson and Audubon.
There was a sport a little more sensual than the
dreamy idleness of my old angling days, but never-
theless a fresh and natural enjoyment, which the
dwellers on our river-side could then command with-
out molestation from those whom Sir Humphry Davy
calls "the Cockney fishermen who fish for roach and
dace in the Thames." The South-Western Railway,
or the Great Western, brought then, on a bright
August morning, no parties of second-class passen-
gers, who each rushed down to Brocas Lane to secure
for four or five companions a punt and a waterman,
VOL. I.
G
i
98
[S II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
who was ready with the most monstrous lies of his
exclusive knowledge of the gravel-beds where the
gudgeon might be taken, ten dozen at a pitch.
Wretched men! They will swill their beer at Surly
Hall, and return to Whitechapel, a paltry dozen or
two in their capacious creels. Such was not the
glorious gudgeon-fishing of Jack Hall, well known to
every Etonian of the days of Keate, whose memory
is preserved in a characteristic portrait engraved in
the very best style of art. Did the Palmerston of
"Punch" derive the flower in his mouth from that
spruce elderly man, who, as he lounged upon the old
wooden bridge of Windsor, had always a honeysuckle
or a rose between his lips? Three of us, in those
days of unmolested use of our river, would make an
appointment with him for the next morning at Bray
Reach. Thither we wend, in cart or chaise (the
word "trap" was not then invented), well supplied
with a sufficient basket of ham, tongue, veal-pie,
Stilton cheese, bottled ale and porter, a little sherry,
and a cigar or two. Jack is there with his punt and
his easy bow. We begin to fish. The well of the
punt gradually fills. The morning quickly speeds on
towards noon. What an inviting nook for luncheon
is that little creek, where the willows make a natural
bower of grateful shade. But we must not linger.
By three o'clock we have caught forty dozen. Jack
says, that sort of thing is "bonum securum ;" and he
will best tell us how to dispose of our prey. We land
at Monkey Island; and whilst we are examining the
sketches of monkeys on the then dilapidated walls of
the old banqueting-room of a Thames-loving Duke
of Marlborough, the accomplished Hall is preparing
our fry. He is a better cook than Izaak Walton;
§ II.]
99
A PRELUDE.
and moreover he will troll us a merry song as well as
the merriest of the crew in the old haberdasher's
"honest alehouse, with lavender in the windows, and
twenty ballads stuck about the wall." But Jack had
other sources of amusement. He could not only dis-
play his scraps of dog-latin, but could tell queer
stories about the Eton days of some of the then
mightiest in the land, such as we now look for in
vain in pompous autobiographies and dull memoirs.
Fain would I recollect some of these stories,-but
they are better forgotten. A game of quoits or
trap-ball succeeds. It is sunset before we are
aware. The punt floats down the Thames, whilst
the silence around us is broken by the chorus of
some forgotten anacreontic of the old times of
jollity, or by the unscientific breathings of a flute
simple in its construction as the shepherd's reed.
There was a time, from early boyhood till the In-
closure of Windsor Forest, when I might have said—
"I know each lane and every alley green,
Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild wood,
And every bosky bourn from side to side,
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood.”
The inclosure changed in a few years all the aspect
of the scenes with which I was once so familiar.
Vast plains were soon covered with hundreds of
thousands of vigorous saplings; heaths, where strag-
gling hawthorns used once to be the landmarks of
the wanderer, are now one sea of pine. Some of the
work of change was set about too much in the spirit
of a ruthless utility. At the extremities of the forest
near Easthampstead, earthworks, which showed where
the Roman had encamped, were levelled or planted
over. Nearer Windsor, many an old tree with a
G 2
100
[S II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
thirty-foot girth, into whose hollow I had crept from
the passing shower and thought of the Norman
hunters, was mercilessly cut down. There was a
good deal of rash innovation some fifty years ago, but
it appears to have been repented of; for some of the
giants of the wood, sublime in their decay, are now
carefully fenced round. Much of the picturesque of
forest scenery remains in the Great Park. Some has
been spoilt by the desire to embellish what is far
more beautiful without adventitious ornament. Some
of the wildest scenes-now, perhaps, shaven lawn and
carefully tended shrubberies-used to come upon me
as a surprise. I remember one spot, especially, near
the house erected a few years since by the accom-
plished Belgian minister. My devious steps con-
ducted me from the quiet green of a hamlet where a
few children were at play, into one of the most unfre-
quented parts of the Forest. The sun was yet
brightly shining in the west, but his rays did not
pierce the thick gloom of the elms and beeches into
which I had penetrated. The place was singularly
wild, and seemed scarcely to belong to the quiet
scenery of our inland counties. A rapid stream,
which in winter must become a torrent, had formed a
deep ravine with high and precipitous banks. The
fern grew about in the wildest profusion; the old
roots of the trees which hung over this bourn, as the
people of the Forest then called it, were bared to the
wind and frost; but they still grasped the earth
resolutely and firmly. As I walked on, endeavouring
to follow the course of the stream, the scene became
still more solitary. I could gain no eminence to look
round upon the surrounding country; I could not.
hear either the tinkling of a sheep-bell, the low of
§ II.]
101
A PRELUDE.
cattle, or the bark of the watch-dog; even the herds.
of deer had forsaken this spot of unbroken solitude.
I could have fancied myself far removed from the
haunts of men; and that solemn feeling which such
a consideration inspires came across my heart.
In the holiday days of my youth, Virginia Water
appeared to me the very perfection of romantic
scenery. It was then sixty years since Duke William
of Cumberland created the little lake and its gentle
fir-clad banks out of a wild swampy district, whose
waters drained into an unsightly basin, and then
flowed on to the Thames at Chertsey. Paul Sandby
was the landscape gardener. The ambitious name of
the lake must be received simply as expressive of
silence and solitude amidst woods and waters, but
without any real association with the boundless
forests and mighty rivers, where the Anglo-Saxon
first carried the processes of civilization which his
descendants appear too ready to forget. The play-
things of George IV. spoilt Virginia Water.
character of these solitudes was destroyed by
sticking up a Chinese Fishing Temple, and by
building a mock ruin out of a collection of antique
fragments, Egyptian and Grecian--relics of a great
past, joined together by plaster and paint into some-
thing like an imitation of their awful decay.
The
In the summer of 1815, Shelley rented a house on
Bishopsgate Heath. There he composed his "Alastor,
or the Spirit of Solitude." Mrs. Shelley says, in a
note on this poem, "he spent his days under the oak-
shades of Windsor Great Park; and the magnificent
woodland was a fitting study to inspire the various
descriptions of forest-scenery found in the poem."
Shelley wrote it after his recovery from a pulmonary
102
[S II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES:
<<
66
""
disease, of which, in the spring, he was considered
to be dying. A "solemn spirit reigns throughout-
the worship of the majesty of nature, the broodings
of a poet's heart in solitude." Alastor a copy of
which was lent to me soon after the date of its com-
position (I think it was privately printed)-appeared
to me rather as the ideal of forest-scenery than as
presenting the character of the "magnificent wood-
land" around Bishopsgate, amidst which Shelley
spent his days," and which I well knew a few years
before. I wanted something more literal-more
pre-Raphaelite, if I may apply this term to poetry.
I had previously attempted some out-door sketches
of these scenes-feeble enough as efforts of imagina-
tion, but a pretty faithful transcript of what was
before my eyes. I had intended these Spenserian
stanzas to have grown up to a poem of some magni-
tude. Fortunately for me, the sketches were never
finished; for the age even then had grown tired of
that word-painting of nature which was once so
fashionable; and which, even in the hands of Denham
and Pope, seems now so artificial. I had not for
a long time looked upon the precise spot which I
described as
"A wilderness of thistle, rush, and fern,
'Mid green spots for the seldom-startled deer,
And plashy marshes for the lonely hern ;
With birds and sylvan sounds for the hush'd ear."
When, thirty years afterwards, I spent a morning
in the woods near Bishopsgate with my friend
William Harvey, some of the old feeling returned.
Still, the intensity of that solitude would be oppres-
sive but for its shifting aspects of the varied hues of
"Elm, chestnut, oak, lime, beech, and scatter'd thorn,"
§ 11.]
103
A PRELUDE.
as the morning sun at one minute lights them up,
and then a passing cloud clothes them in shadow.
The red deer bounds noiselessly along; the ring-dove
gently coos; the distance seems slumbering in the
half-eclipsed noonshine. Suddenly a flood of bril-
liancy is shed over the vast amphitheatre of leaves.
before us; the distant hills of Berkshire on one side,
and of Middlesex on the other, crowd into the fore-
ground. One object is pre-eminent in grandeur and
beauty. But how greatly is it changed in its archi-
tectural details-grander perhaps, but I doubt if quite
as picturesque, as when I wrote-
"Thou mighty Windsor, rising o'er the woods,
Though bounded by this grove of proud-topp'd trees,
Rapt in thy majesty lone Fancy broods,
And in thy towers of yore she dimly sees
Interpreters of Heaven's o'erpast decrees;
And though full lovely is that glorious gleam
Of sun on buttress, parapet, and frieze,
Lovelier th' historic light which down doth stream,
Clear as the mid-day sheen, romantic as a dream."
Yes, History itself was then to me the most bril-
liant of romances. The distant castle-seen through
those glades in apparent continuity, as if there were
no middle-ground between the breadths of foliage
and the old gray towers-had historical associations
enough to satisfy the most imaginative. Every nook
of the antique buildings, untouched by modern
improvement, was then familiar to me. The fortress
which the Norman reared was gone-his keep, his
donjon. Which of those towers, I used to speculate,
are the remaining memorials of the time before
Edward III. built the new castle? Surely, where
the ecclesiastical portion of the vast pile now stands,
there was once a compact fortress, looking proudly
104
[s II.
EARLY REMINISCENCES.
and serenely over the low grounds which the
Thames watered. In that noble tower-whose base
now stands boldly in view as we ascend the steep
street, but which a few years ago was hidden by one
continuous line of the meanest houses-Stephen
might have defied his queenly rival and John his
indomitable barons. And then I thought of Run-
nemede close at hand; and could look down upon
it from Cooper's Hill; and let the eye range onward
to a more complete view of the work of the great
Anglo-Norman, who had forsaken the old western
side of the fortress and was holding feasts of the
Round Table in a grander castle on the east. Here
he was thinking of leading his chivalry to Crecy and
Poitiers; here the Black Prince was learning to bear
himself knightly in the tournament. Softer associa-
tions were present to me as I thought of the story of
James I. of Scotland and Jane Beaufort, which has
been so prettily told by Washington Irving. The
course of time led me onward to the "large green
courts" where Surrey lived "in lust and joy;" to
the memory of the jealous tyrant of whom Surrey
was the last victim; to Elizabeth and Leicester
to Charles and Cromwell; the romance gradually
fading away as I thought of Charles II. and his
neglected queen banqueting with the heathen gods
on Verrio's ceilings. It almost wholly vanished
when I remembered the Anne described by Swift,
"hunting in a chaise with one horse, which she
drives herself, and drives furiously like Jehu."
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
The First Epoch.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE.
CHAPTER I.

CCASIONAL glimpses of London had
been allowed to me in my boyish days.
In February, 1812, I was to be a resident
therein for some weeks; to hear the pul-
sations of the mighty heart; to be face to face with
great public things. My father's friend, Mr. George
Lane, was the editor of a morning paper, the "British
Press," and of an evening paper, the "Globe." The
office of these papers was in the Strand, on the pre-
mises where the "Globe" is still published. Under
his general guidance I was to have a brief apprentice-
ship as an honorary member of the staff of reporters
belonging to his establishment. I might make myself
useful if I could; but I was under no serious responsi-
bility. I had, however, so much eagerness to behold
the novel and exciting matters which such a position
offered to me—if possible to render them an important
part of my education-that my willingness to work
soon obtained me work to do. I was placed under the
care of my friend's stepson, upon whom devolved the
duty of arranging the division of labour amongst
the reporters, but taking no share himself in their
actual work. He was a kind-hearted Irishman, some-
106
[Ch. I.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
what duller than most of his literary countrymen ;
not very zealous in the enforcement of discipline
amongst the troop of which he was the lieutenant;
more frequently to be found in the neighbouring
coffee-houses than in the Gallery; but, nevertheless,
useful in picking up the on dits of the Lobby.
walked with him to the House on the second day of
my new town-life.
I
To gratify the curiosity of the youth from the
country, we go through Westminster Hall. The
little shops of the seventeenth century and much
later have been cleared away. Soane's ugly and
inconvenient Courts between the buttresses have not
yet been built. Within the hall, near the entrance
in Palace Yard, are two trumpery wooden buildings,
the Court of Common Pleas, and the Court of Ex-
chequer. At the upper end of the hall are two
similar erections, the Court of King's Bench, and
the Court of Chancery. We pass below these through
a small door in the corner, and are quickly in the
Exchequer Coffee-house. There, apart from other
company, are half a dozen gentlemen very merry
over their wine. I am introduced to one or two of
these gentlemen, and am invited to take a glass with
them. Though somewhat prodigal amongst them-
selves of what we now call "chaff," they spared the
shy stripling who suddenly found himself in the
midst of men of talent, who, whether attached to the
"Chronicle," the "Post," or the "Times," appeared
to regard all political questions with the sublimest
indifference. One I especially remember as looking
upon the laughing side of human affairs, and never
unmindful of the enjoyment of the passing hour, even
amidst the monotonous performance of his duty in
Ch. I.]
107
THE FIRST EPOCH.
the reporter's function. Age could not wither, nor cus-
tom stale, the infinite sociality of William Jerdan, as I
knew him in years when the third and fourth Georges
had passed away. I saw that, in this pleasant party,
he was not alone in his conviction that when one of the
orators who could quickly empty the House was up, he
might linger awhile before he took his turn, and pick
up something of what the bore had said from those
who had had the misfortune to note his platitudes.
We are at last in the lobby of the House of Com-
mons-not a grand vestibule, but a shabby room.
with a low ceiling. We enter by a swing door-mem-
bers and strangers indiscriminately-and move to the
left side of the gangway by which members pass to
the sacred door of the house. We stand by the fire-
place. My companion has some information to
obtain from an Irish member of his acquaintance—
perhaps he has only to ask for a frank-and he waits
his opportunity. I am somewhat tired of this delay,
and long to be looking upon the stirring scene within.
For ever and anon, as the door opens, I hear a loud
voice, and catch a peep of a member gesticulating
amidst cheers and laughter, and the Speaker crying
"Order! order!' At length we ascend the narrow
stairs to the Strangers' Gallery. I am allowed to
pass as a reporter. It is the sole privilege accorded
to those without whom Parliament would become a
voice shut up in a cavern. The gallery is crowded
with members' constituents, who have come with
orders, much to the annoyance of the guardian of
the toll-bar on the stairs. He would rather see his
customary half-crown, which others have paid. We
put our heads in; and I observe on the back bench-
which by its elevation commands a view of the body
108
[Ch. I.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
of the House—half-a-dozen reporters busily employed
with their note-books. This back bench is theirs by
custom, but not by right. If the gallery should be
cleared for a division, the staff of the Journals will
take care to keep as close to the door as possible,
that they may regain their places after the division.
It was later, if I remember rightly, that they had a
separate door of admission to this especial seat. It
was fourteen years later that a Reporters' Room was
assigned them at one extremity of the gallery passage.
It is enough for me, on this my first night, to look
upon the general aspect of the House. In a week or
two, by persevering attendance, I become familiar
with the personal appearance of the leaders on either
side. To the right of the Speaker, on the ministerial
bench there sit, Spencer Perceval, Chancellor of the
Exchequer ; Vicary Gibbs, Attorney-General; Ryder,
Home Secretary; George Rose; Palmerston; Croker.
Castlereagh is sitting high up above the Treasury
bench. Canning is on the cross bench below. To
the left of the Speaker are Ponsonby, Brougham,
Burdett, Grattan, Horner, Romilly, Sheridan, Tier-
ney, Whitbread. All of these are gone but two, to
whom it has been permitted to vindicate the belief
that it is the privilege of genius never to grow old.
I practise myself in reporting for my own amusement
and instruction. In not writing short-hand, I have
no inferiority to the experienced men around me ; for
I observe that very few have acquired, or at any rate
employ, that useful art. The debates of 1812 were
not expected to be reported so fully as in more recent
times. Often members complained that their sayings
were misrepresented. Such complaints were gene-
rally met by a disposition on the part of the House
Ch. I.]
109
THE FIRST EPOCH.
to punish the offender. It was very daring in Mr.
Brougham to hint, on such an occasion in 1812, that
"Gentlemen should consider the disadvantages under
which reports of their debates were taken." With a
mock solemnity the Speaker called "Order!" and
the cry of "Order!" echoed through the House. To
recognise the presence at its debates of the obscure
strangers who sat on the back bench of the gallery
would have been to compromise the privileges of
Parliament. This hypocrisy was a queer relic of those
times when the repression of public opinion was held
to be the security of the State.
Thursday, the 27th of February, is to be a great
field-day in the Commons. I must be there at noon,
to secure a seat in the gallery. There I sit, looking
upon the empty House till the Speaker comes in.
The prayers are read, and some uninteresting orders
of the day are disposed of. Strangers are crowding
in, and we hold our places as well as we can against
the rush. There are apparently two or three seats
vacant on the front bench. A wicked gentleman of
the press suggests to a despairing provincial that
there he may be accommodated. He strides and
pushes to the desired haven, amidst a suppressed
titter, and is horror-struck to find that there he can
neither see nor hear. The back of the great clock
is his obstructing enemy. This is the standing joke
nightly repeated. It was as successful in producing a
titter as the Timeo Danaos below, when it was the
fashion for young and even old members to air their
musty Latin in bald quotations, as some lady novelists
interlard their feeble English with boarding-school
French. The routine business is over. The battle
is about to begin. Sir Thomas Turton is to bring
110
[Ch. I.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
on a motion on the state of the nation. He was a
true professor of the Whig creed-that the contest
against the French Emperor was hopeless-that the
Spanish war would last as long as the Peloponnesian,
with little probability of success.
He touched upon
the Orders in Council; but was told by the clever
ministerial supporter, Mr. Robinson, that such dis-
cussion had better be reserved for the forthcoming
debate, upon the motion of which notice had been
given “by a learned gentleman of great talents and
extensive information." In two years from the time
when he had made his maiden speech, Mr. Brougham
had thus become an authority in the House. The
debate of the 27th of February was spirited. It
appeared likely to close at an early hour, for the
gallery was being cleared for a division. But Mr.
Whitbread rose, and called upon Lord Castlereagh to
give some explanation of his views, especially upon
the Catholic question, now that he was likely to
become a member of the Administration. The Mar-
quis Wellesley had resigned the seals of the Foreign
Office a week before. The most important declara-
tions of the session were thus called forth. Mr. Per-
ceval and Lord Castlereagh declared that they and
the Ministry were unanimous against granting the
Catholic claims now.
The debate was dragging on
till two o'clock. The reporters had expected that,
after the speech of the Prime Minister, the House
would divide. I was left by the staff of the "British
Press" to make a short note if anything should occur.
Up rose Mr. Canning. Somewhat alarmed I began
to write. I gained confidence. His graceful sentences
had no involved construction to render them difficult
to follow. His impressive elocution fixed his words
Ch. I.]
111
THE FIRST EPOCH.
in my memory. Some matters I necessarily passed
over; but the great point of his speech, that he
was for speedily granting the Catholic claims with
due safeguards, was an important one for the journal
which I was suddenly called upon to represent, and
I caught the spirit, if not the full words, of the
declaration in which he stood opposed to the
Minister, and to his own ancient rival. I ran to
the office (for young legs were faster than hackney-
coaches), wrote my report, to the astonishment of
the regular staff of reporters, and went happy to
bed at five o'clock. I doubt whether any literary
success of my after-life gave me as much pleasure
as this feat.
The accomplished wife of my friend the editor held
a sort of levée every morning in her drawing-room.
Whilst he was labouring upon his evening papers,
Mrs. Lane was picking up the gossip of the town
from members of Parliament who dropped in-from
authors, players, and artists. On the morning of the
28th, Lord Byron was the great theme in his capa-
city of politician, when we were anxiously expecting
a poem whose excellence was bruited abroad. The
night before, he had delivered his maiden speech in
the House of Lords, against the Bill for making the
destruction or injury of stocking or lace frames a
capital offence. It was a set speech-declamatory
rather than reasoning. He believed that it was a
great speech, and had a right so to believe from the
compliments that were paid him in the House. A
week after this appeared "Childe Harold." He says
in one of his journals, "Nobody ever thought of my
prose afterwards, nor indeed did I." It was then
that he awoke one morning and found himself
'#
112
[Ch. I.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
ย
famous. It is difficult, after the lapse of half a
century, to describe, without the appearance of ex-
aggeration, the effect which Lord Byron's poetry
produced, year after year, upon the younger minds
of that time. Its tone was in harmony with the
great vicissitudes of the world. Its passionate ex-
hibition of deep and often morbid feelings was
akin with the emotions that were engendered by
the tremendous struggle in which England was en-
gaged-its alternations of rapture and depression, its
courage and its despair. What we now call "sensa-
tion" dramas and "sensation" novels are the lineal
descendants of the verse romances in which, under
every variety of clime and costume, Byron was pour-
ing forth his own feelings-indifferent to the possible
injury to others of that contempt for the conven-
tionalities of society which made him parade his
misanthropy and his scepticism, his loves and his
hatreds, before all mankind. The corruption thus
engendered was more the corruption of taste than
of morals. Our Castalian spring became insipid
without a dash of alcohol. Scott paled in this
strong light. The Lake poets underwent an eclipse.
This could not have been accomplished without high
genius; but it may be doubted whether the sensual
egotism of Byron would have ever allowed him to
take a higher place than he now takes amongst the
English immortals.
My life during these two months in London was a
round of excitement. The theatre was open to me
-the one theatre, Covent Garden, where I could see
John Kemble and Charles Young, and the best comic
actors-where once, and once only, I saw Mrs. Sid-
dons, before she left the stage in June of that year.
Ch. 1.]
113
THE FIRST EPOCH.
Drury Lane was being rebuilt. There was no other
theatre in London, except "the little theatre in the
Haymarket" for summer performances. The theatri-
cal monopoly was vigorously contended for by what
was deemed the liberal party in Parliament. A Bill
had been brought in for establishing a new theatre
for dramatic entertainments within the cities of Lon-
don and Westminster. It was opposed, because, said
some Liberals who had become shareholders in Drury
Lane, it went to supersede the royal prerogative for
granting licences for dramatic exhibition. It was
in vain urged that the monopolists had built play-
houses in which a great many could see and no one
could hear, and thus we had dogs, elephants, and
horses introduced on the stage. Mr. Whitbread,
who had taken an active part in the rebuilding
of Drury Lane upon the same principle of sacrificing
sense to show, contended that the taste of the people
must be followed as well as guided. With these
notions, Mr. Whitbread was to become a caterer for
the public taste, as one of the committee of manage-
ment for the theatre upon whose portico Shakspere
was set to shiver outside, little regarded till the
greatest of modern actors should bring him once
more into fashion.
(C
Of the many intellectual excitements-not with-
out accompanying temptations to which I was ex-
posed, the most attractive was the Club of the
Eccentrics. Mr. Peter Cunningham, in his admirable
Hand-book of London," tells us that in May's
Buildings, St. Martin's Lane, the Sutherland Arms
was the favourite place of meeting of 'the Eccen-
trics,' a club of privileged wits so called." The wits
had certainly not here any exclusive possession of the
(C
VOL. I.
H
3
114
[Ch. I.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
privileges of such a club; for without a considerable
infusion of dulness they would have missed many
an opportunity for the exercise of their time-honoured
art,—“ to cut blocks with a razor." On ordinary
nights the company at the Sutherland Arms had as
little pretensions to the character of wits as the
members of Goldsmith's "Muzzy Club." They ate
their kidneys; they smoked their pipes; they read
the newspaper; and they made profound reflections
upon the war and the ministry. But upon Saturday
nights the calm is invaded by a rush of reporters. On
such a night I am admitted, upon payment of the fee
of half-a-crown; am duly harangued by the chairman
chosen for the occasion, who descants upon the glories
of a society which numbered the greatest of the age;
sign my name in the big book, which really contains
some records of the illustrious, and am glad to
have made my reply, and have gone to a table to
eat my supper.
Then it is moved that the chair
should be taken by Mr. Jones, to hear "a charge."
For three hours I listen to gleams of wit and flashes.
of eloquence-intermingled with the occasional ven-
tures of a rash ambition which provoke laughter,
and with small attempts at fun which call forth
groans-so that midnight arrives and I have no
disposition for rest. A name or two of those to
whom I have rapturously listened have not alto-
gether perished out of the ken of a new generation.
Richard Lalor Sheil belongs to history. Once or
twice I was witness to the profound admiration,
entertained by men who were not incompetent
judges, of the wondrous eloquence of a reporter
named Brownley. Some of the elders of the company
told me that he came nearer to the excellences of
Ch. I.]
115
THE FIRST EPOCH.
Burke than any living man. He was not a Burke;
for the orgies of the night clouded the intellect of the
morning. Undoubtedly his powers were very wonder-
ful. He poured forth a torrent of words; but far more
regulated by a correct taste than the flowery metaphors
of Sheil. Brownley had a lofty figure and a grand
massive head. Sheil presented a singular contrast
to him in person and in his rapid utterance and
violent gestures. Sheil was then little known; and
when he had finished his oration, Mr. Quin, the
editor of a daily paper, rushed forward with, "Sir,
I honour ye-dine with me to-morrow." Less
aspiring in his declamation than Brownley was
William Mudford, the editor of the "Courier," but
singularly neat in his logical precision and his
mild sarcasm. J. P. Davis (Pope Davis, as he
was called, from a great picture which he painted
at Rome-the Presentation of Lord Shrewsbury's
Family to the Pope) did not belong to the Reporting
ribe. We have missed him lately, in a green old
age, doing violence to the natural kindness of his
heart by an intense hatred of the Royal Academy,
in which he persevered to the last, and in which
he was ever associated with his friend Haydon. In
that dingy room of the Sutherland Arms rival editors
suspended their daily controversies.
They battled
there for victory, but their blows left no scars. Rival
artists were not there jealous. The newspaper critic
of literature and art was then a very innocuous
being. Journals took little notice of books, and
their art-criticism was something ludicrous. The
Weekly Literary Journal was not then called into
existence. When Mr. Colburn evoked in 1817 "The
Literary Gazette," to be a valuable adjunct to his
H 2
116
[Ch. I.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
power of "preparing the public mind," Mr. Jerdan,
his editor and co-proprietor, was the honey-bee who
gave to most authors his sweets without inspiring
the dread of the sting. It mattered little, therefore,
if books were reviewed without being read. The
same process of reviewing without reading survives
amongst us, but with a diversity.
The Easter Recess sets the reporters free for ten
days. I avail myself of the holiday to look about
London, of which I know no spots out of the range
of the commonest thoroughfares. I have a friend who,
although long familiar with the town, is always as
desirous to seek new objects of observation as to find
enjoyment either in action or repose. Stedman Whit-
well was an architect who would probably have made
a fortune in the days that were at hand, but for the
terrible catastrophe of the fall of the Brunswick
Theatre, which he built. The destruction was occa-
sioned by the obstinacy of those who hung weights
upon the roof, contrary to his express warning. Most***
of those who could appreciate his talent, as did Sir
Francis Chantrey and Sir William Cubitt, are now
passed away.
He was ever on the look out for
professional objects on which to exercise his critical
faculty; and he had made large collections of hints
and sketches for a book to be called "Architectural
Absurdities." Let me note down a few remembrances
of my walks with this companion, to furnish some
notion of the London of half a century ago.
We set out from my lodging in the neighbourhood
of Covent Garden, to call on Mr. Chantrey, who
occupies a small house in Pimlico. We make our
way to Charing Cross, deviating a little from the
usual route, that I may see how some of the worthy
Ch. I.]
117
THE FIRST EPOCH.
electors of Westminster are lodged and fed. We are
in the alleys known in the time of Ben Jonson as
the Bermudas, but since called the Caribbee Islands,
corrupted," as Gifford says, "by a happy allusion
to the arts cultivated there into the Cribbee Islands."
Close at hand is Porridge Island, then famous for
cook-shops, as in the middle of the previous century,
when the fine gentleman who went in a chair every
evening to a rout dined there off a pewter plate.*
We are out of the labyrinth, and are in a neglected
open space, on the north of which stands the King's
Mews. Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery
have swept away these relics of the pride of the
Crown and the low estate of the people. We enter
St. James's Park. There is the Mall on the north,
and the Bird-cage Walk on the south, with the rows
of elms and limes—some of which may have endured
from the days when Charles II. planted them-and
there is the canal which he formed. But a more
desolate place than the green borders of the canal
can scarcely be conceived; unenclosed; the grass
grazed by cows and trampled down by troops of
vagabond children; not a shrub planted; not a
single water-fowl to give life to the slimy ditch. At
the west end of this garden of delights is the fine old
brick building, Buckingham House, which Nash
patched up into an ugly palace for George IV.,
which he never inhabited. The Park is a privileged
place for those who ride; the pedestrian bag-wigs
and ruffles had long before given it up to nursemaids
and mechanics out of work; but the right to enter
the Park with the carriage, the fat coachman, and
"The World," Nov. 29, 1753 (quoted in Cunningham's
"Hand-Book ").
118
[Ch. I.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
the two footmen, is an object of supreme ambition.
"Mr.
one of our supporters," said a minister to
George III, "anxiously desires the entrée of the
Park." What! what! Can't be ! Can't allow
that! I'll make him an Irish peer if you like."
Onward we walk to the house of the rising sculptor.
Nollekens, six years before, had generously pro-
claimed his merits as a maker of busts; but he has
heterodox views of art which interfere with his em-
ployment upon statues. He thinks that Englishmen
ought not to be represented as wearing the Roman
toga and sandals. He will clothe them in surtouts
and shoes. This resolve is in harmony with the
manly simplicity of his character. We gossip with
him as he is touching up the drapery of the clay
figure before him. He talks with earnestness about
his art; speaks without the affectation of humility of
his former life; feels confident that he shall work
his way, for he has warm patrons, but the Tur-
nerellis, who make statues to one established fashion,
carry all before them. In his talk there are slight
indications of the want of a higher education than
the Sheffield milk-boy could command; but the
strong sense, the instinctive taste, and the genuine
modesty, teach me to feel that the showy qualities
which force their way in the world are not essential
characteristics of genius.
There are several roads, clean or miry, by which we
can quit the solitudes of Pimlico for the busy life of
Piccadilly. We may take that of the Five Fields,
which leads to the bottom of Grosvenor Place, then
more remarkable for its Lock Hospital than for its
mansions. On the east of the Five Fields are two
blocks of middle-class tenements which bear the
Ch. I.]
119
THE FIRST EPOCH.
name of Belgrave Place. The palaces of the modern
Belgravia were not then even châteaux en Espagne.
Mud-banks are the boundaries of the Five Fields,
which are dangerous to pass at night. There, as in
the time of the "Tatler," "robbers lie in wait." We
prefer to go, by Sloane Square, up Sloane Street.
On one side only of this street are there houses. All
the vast space between Sloane Street and Grosvenor
Place is garden or is waste. In the same condition
is all the space between the Five Fields and Knights-
bridge. Fashion was then located in a somewhat
limited space between Piccadilly and Oxford Street.
Tyburnia did not exist. The extensive waste which
it now covers was occupied by the most wretched
huts, filled by squatters of the lowest of the commu-
nity, whose habitual amusement on a Sunday morning
was that of dog-fights. Paddington had then an evil
reputation. To walk in the fields there through
which the canal flowed was not very pleasant, and
certainly not safe. We move eastward from Hyde
Park Corner. No Regent Street then crossed Pic-
cadilly, intended to form a communication from
Carlton House to the Regent's Park. That street,
which was the first departure from the contemptible
house architecture of the reign of George III., was
commenced a year or two after. I pursue my way
northward with difficulty, through the sheds and
squalid shops of St. James's Market, crossed by lanes
and alleys whose place is no longer known, and
emerge at length into the handsome and fashionable
Portland Place. The Regent's Park was then begin-
ning to be planned out; but its trees were not then
planted; its terraces were in embryo. From the
top of Portland Place we might walk into Marylebone
120
[Ch. I.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
Park, and away, by such a forgotten hostelry as the
Queen's Head and Artichoke, over fields and by-
roads to Hampstead; or by equally obsolete land-
marks, such as the Jew's Harp and Welling's Farm,
to fields where sportsmen shot snipes, to the east
and north of the Edgware Road-a district now
equal to many a city, and known by the generic
name of St. John's Wood.
My explorations did not lead me into such wide
unpopulated districts as those which then lay be-
tween the end of Tottenham Court Road and the
New River Head at Islington. There were, never-
theless, famous places there, where the citizens
resorted for country air, such as Bagnigge Wells and
Merlin's Cave-the locale a few years later of the
dreaded insurrection of Spa Fields. Coming south-
ward, I have looked upon the statue of the Duke of
Bedford in Russell Square, and upon the statue of
Charles Fox in Bloomsbury Square. But the capa-
bilities of the important town property of the House
of Russell were not then developed. It was long
after this that the great "Rookery" of St. Giles's was
cleared away to open a free passage from the termi-
nation of Oxford Street at Tottenham Court Road.
All the horrors of the Alsatia of the sixteenth century
had to be encountered by the daring pedestrian who
ventured into these filthy regions. The passage
into the Strand from these quarters was through the
renowned Monmouth Street, no longer resplendent
with tarnished laced coats and red-heeled shoes, but
dingy with patched breeches and cobbled boots.
We might diverge into the heart of Seven Dials;
but woe to the stranger who incautiously rushed into
this labyrinth, where the gin-shops had not become
A
Ch. I.]
121
THE FIRST EPOCH.
gin-palaces but were dens of filthy abomination.
When in the Strand, if I desired to go into South-
wark, I must proceed to either of three existent.
bridges, London, Blackfriars, and Westminster. The
first stone of the intended Strand Bridge, since called
Waterloo, was laid six months before my temporary
abode in London.
I would notice some of the out-door aspects of
society which then forced themselves upon my view,
were it not that the chief characteristics of that time
are rather to be found in the absence of many of our
present forms of civilisation than in social phenomena
different from those we now behold. There was no
police. Bow Street "runners" there were, whose
function was not to repress crime, but to prosecute
offenders when they were ripe for a capital conviction,
which would confer upon the officer the reward of
Blood-Money. In January, the Secretary of State
moved for a committee to examine into the state of
the nightly watch of the metropolis. London was
then in a frenzy of terror. There had been murders,
unparalleled in atrocity, committed in December, of
which Sir Samuel Romilly said, "he never remem-
bered to have heard of whole families destroyed by
the hand of the murderer in any country but this."
There had been talk, he added, "of the nightly
watch, but where was the daily watch, to provide a
remedy against the daring highway robberies com-
mitted in the open day?" Sir Francis Burdett was
for reviving the law of Edward I., by which every
householder was compelled in his turn to watch
for the protection of others. And so the old system
went on, under which every night and every day
witnessed atrocious crimes and mob lawlessness.
122
[Ch. I.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
Night robberies prevailed in the by-streets where a
feeble oil lamp or two glimmered at long intervals.
Even the great thoroughfares, such as the Strand,
Oxford Street, Cheapside, were dark and dreary ;
for it was only Pall Mall that was lighted with gas,
where the enterprising man lived who formed the
first gas company, and was ruined by the enterprise.
There were no means of conveyance through the
streets of London but the slow, rickety, dirty hack-
ney-coaches. To the suburbs on the north, there
were a few stages. From Paddington, half a dozen
years before this, there was one stage to the City.
Of water conveyance there were wherries in abund-
ance, but the demands of the watermen were so
extortionate that few ventured to go up and down
the river. To pass London Bridge was impossible
without danger, from the fall produced by the narrow
arches. Below bridge there were the Gravesend
passage-boats and the Margate hoys. The first
steamboat did not appear till 1816. How the com-
merce of the Thames was carried on with only the
London Dock and the East India Docks would be
for the merchant of the present day a hard problem
to solve; and these had been made only a few years
previously.
It is time to close these rambling Reminiscences of
the London of 1812. I went back to Windsor with
some enlargement of my intellectual vision. The
realities of life had cured me of many day-dreams.
In the House of Commons I had looked night after
night upon the grand spectacle of an assembly that,
without any of the outward semblances of power, filled
the world with a mysterious influence which kept
alive the sacred fire of liberty amongst the nations.
Ch. I.]
123
THE FIRST EPOCH.
It was an assembly imbued with party spirit, but that
spirit was raised into virtue by the common love of
country. Not in that House-nor in that other seat
of legislation, in which the principle of honour was
mainly derived from long lines of ancestry-would
any one who "spake the tongue which Shakspere
spake,” ever think of succumbing to the gigantic
ambition which was threatening to sweep away all
thrones and dominations. One land should never
"lie at the proud foot of a conqueror." There, was
my patriotism stimulated, even whilst political rival-
ries appeared to forbid that union which alone could
save. But what courtesy did I behold tempering the
strongest denunciations and the bitterest sarcasm!
What self-command-what restraints upon passion-
what bursts of generosity—what candour amidst the
most obstinate prejudices-marked these Commoners
of the realm as essentially the gentlemen of England!
From this example, the humblest aspirant to the
character of public instructor might learn to be tole-
rant of all honest opinions-to be moderate in the
expression of his own. In looking upon the great
political gladiators he would perceive what talent
and knowledge were required to raise a man to emi-
nence, but especially he would learn that honesty
alone could keep the high place which ability
and unremitting industry might win. This lesson
was for the lowly as well as for the exalted. I saw
this grand Parliament of England at a grand time.
Hope was beginning to spring up out of a long season
of misfortune and mismanagement. I had heard it
said in the House of Commons on the 27th February,
with a mixed tone of reproach and despondency,
"Badajoz, Gerona, Tortosa, Valencia, and almost
124
[Ch. I.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
every place of strength in Spain are in the hands of
the French." On the 23rd of April the horns were
blowing in every thoroughfare, and men were
bawling "News-News-Great News!" Welling-
ton had taken Badajoz. The crisis of the European
conflict appeared to be at hand. Napoleon was
evidently preparing for an offensive war against
Alexander of Russia. If my cherished project of a
newspaper could now be carried out, the mighty
events of the time would give it an interest which
would compensate for my editorial inexperience. I
might do some good, socially and intellectually, with
such an instrument, humble as it might be by com-
parison with the power of the London press. This was
a very moderate ambition; but I was then contented
with it.
I was heartily disposed to go about the work that
was before me in a sanguine spirit—in a spirit which
perhaps too little regarded the chances of commercial
success. The field was altogether too narrow. To one
who was to stand by my side through the battle of
life I wrote at this transition period of its course:—
"It shall go hard if I do not reform many things in
this neighbourhood, and give the inhabitants a cha-
racter that they never possessed. If fair argument
can do it, they shall think liberally. I will set out
as the temperate advocate of everything that think-
ing men will support-Toleration, Education of the
Poor, Diffusion of Religious Knowledge, Public
Economy. I shall adopt the opinions of no set of
men in Church or State; but think for myself on all
points. I belong to no party, for I would uphold the
Roman Catholics' moderate claims as the first step
to public safety, and continue the war in Spain as
Ch. I.]
125
THE FIRST EPOCH.
the last resource of national honour. This country
is full of bigotry. Some are afraid to educate the
poor, some are afraid of distributing Bibles, and the
greater part are afraid of Popery.
I hear many
The very miseries
In
people who call themselves reasoners talk of the
Protestant massacres in France as arguments that
all Catholics are blood-thirsty. The fire-brand of
religion will soon be burnt out.
of the present generation will become the means
of establishing the happiness of the next."
transcribing this from a mirror of the past which
lies before me, I cannot avoid what must appear
as a parade of the conceit of imperfect education.
But it may be a satisfaction to some other solitary
and obscure young man to know, that self-instruction
is not always the worst preparation for arriving at
a due sense of the serious moral responsibility of a
literary career which, even in its humblest attempts,
must be an instrument for good or for evil. And
thus with a considerable amount of multifarious
reading, with slight knowledge of the world, with
aspirations very much out of proportion to any chance
of their being realised-the 1st of August, 1812,
saw me established as proprietor with my father
in the "Windsor and Eton Express," and entrusted
with its responsible editorship. That day, having
passed my twenty-first year a few months before, saw
me bound upon that wheel of periodical writing and
publishing which was to revolve with me for fifty
years. It was not to be the torturing wheel of Ixion,
but one whose revolutions, wearisome as they some-
times might be, were often to become sources of plea-
surable excitement. The old freedom of my early
days would, indeed, be gone when I entered upon
126
[Ch. I.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
this course. I must work regularly and monoto-
nously. The years would no longer flow on like a
gentle stream: they would be broken up by the
recurrence of publication days-weekly, monthly,
quarterly. Travel would be impossible. I should
never see the Alps-perhaps not even look upon
Snowdon or Ben Lomond. Well the face of Nature
around me would be ever fresh and young.
No
routine of labour could deprive me of a holiday-walk
in my forest or river haunts. No narrowness of jour-
nalism could shut me out from the universality of
literature. I had to do the task appointed for me
to do with earnestness and gladness. I might cherish
a higher ambition; but the goal was not to be
attained by leaps. The slow steps onward of work,
and always work, might enable me "to climb the
hill."
T
CHAPTER II.

HE first number of the "Windsor and Eton
Express" lies before me. It looks to my
mind like some relic of a past era of jour-
nalism, in which I have no especial inte-
rest, any more than I have in a fac-simile of a
"Times" of the days of Nelson which has been
recently published. I am told that some of the
middle-aged inhabitants of my native town preserve
this first newspaper ever issued there, as a curiosity
of the time of their fathers—a piece of dim antiquity
like a guinea of George III. I look anxiously at
my "Political Inquirer," and I do not blush at my
earliest attempts in the vocation of "best public
instructor."
Why do I not blush at some of these crude efforts
of inexperience? Because, although the things which
I then wrote may be something different from my
maturer convictions, they were written under a strong
sense of the serious nature of the vocation of a public
writer. I dare say that, in my want of knowledge of
the world, I wore my
"Foolscap uniform turn'd up with ink'
somewhat too grandly.
Anxious" I was, if not
"fine and jealous.” But this sense of my moral
responsibility has saved me from a feeling of shame,
as I now look back upon the feeble utterances of the
128
[Ch. II.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
time thus brought before me, something like a dream.
These utterances were those of an impulsive young
man; but of one who felt the duty of controlling his
inclination to express himself passionately. I wrote
with a motto from Locke always at the head of my
political essay,—“This is a question only of inquirers,
not disputers, who neither affirm, nor deny, but
examine." This motto often held my hand. I had
a notion that rapid composition was a test of ability.
I used to task myself to write a leading article in a
given time. The habit has been of value to me in
after life; it is of infinite importance to the journalist.
But it is of more importance that what he writes
should not at some future day rise up in judgment
against him, "trumpet-tongued," and convict him—
not of the suppressio veri, for that is incidental to
his profession, as it is to the barrister's-but of the
assertion of opinions which were the exact contrary
of his own convictions. Let me not, however, be held
to imply that what is called political consistency is
a virtue in the man of advanced age-that the rash
judgments of his youth are to be preserved in his
maturity. The mind that is not open to the teach-
ings of time, and that chooses to stand upon its own
"ancient way," and not look around to see
"which
is the right and true way," is worth little as a guide
for the formation of opinion.
Amongst the startling contrasts that are presented
between the England of 1812 and the England of
half a century later, there is perhaps no contrast
more remarkable than that which offers itself to my
mind in the difficulties of setting on foot a news-
paper at Windsor, such as I had projected as an
easy and profitable employment for my literary
Ch. II.]
129
THE FIRST EPOCH.
ambition. These rush upon my memory as I look
upon my old "folio of four pages," and think of this
my first venture upon a dangerous sea.
The newspaper stamp was then fourpence. The
advertisement duty was three shillings, subsequently
raised to three shillings and sixpence. The blank
paper was to be stamped at Somerset House, the
payment being in cash, with a discount. It will be
seen at once how these taxes pressed upon the
capital to be devoted to such an undertaking. No
article of consumption, with the exception of salt,
was so highly taxed as the Newspaper. The circu-
lation of a country journal was not a simple operation
like that of a London journal, which was, and is, a
wholesale transaction between the newspaper pro-
prietor and the newsmen. The established custom
was this: the country proprietor had agencies in the
larger towns, who had their own retail customers;
but the greater number of the papers were delivered,
by newsmen specially employed, to the subscribers,
whether in the place of publication or in scattered
country districts. These had quarterly accounts,
which often grew into half-yearly or yearly settle-
ments. Thus the return of the capital was very slow.
The demand for the newspaper, and the number
of advertisers, being thus narrowed by the high
price consequent upon the tax, the cost of produc-
tion was to be met by a comparatively small number
of supporters. A cheap newspaper was an impossi-
bility. But there were expenses at that time which
have altogether vanished under a different state of
social organization. The Windsor paper was to be
published on a Saturday evening, in time to be des-
patched by post to the more distant places. It was
VOL. I.
I
130
[Ch. II.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
""
essential that it should contain the latest news from
the metropolis. The "London Gazette
was then
published on a Saturday afternoon. How was the
"Gazette " to be obtained, and also the late editions
of the evening papers? For this object the long-
established "Salisbury Journal" had an express
direct from London to that city. By an arrange-
ment with the London agent of that journal, its
express was to bring our despatch to Staines, from
which place we should have a branch express to
Windsor. It would arrive about three quarters of
an hour before our post departed. Then there was
to ensue a scurry of editor, compositors, pressmen, to
complete enough papers to fill two bags, which we
were allowed to send to the receiving post-offices at
Staines and Maidenhead by the mail-carts from our
town. All this could not be accomplished without
the most strenuous exertions and the most perfect
division of labour. It was to be calculated that in
the beginning of the undertaking the machinery
would be often out of gear.
This laborious and costly organization was the
only method of fighting with space and time before
the days of railway conveyance and the electric
telegraph. The London daily papers, which fur-
nished the staple of news, had the same difficulties,
though much greater in degree, to contend against.
The more considerable, especially the "Times,” had
not only their special expresses from the outports,
but occasionally had a private packet-boat to pick
up news from homeward-bound ships before they
came into port. The sudden arrival of foreign intel-
ligence, and the lateness of the sittings of Parlia-
ment, occasioned the morning papers sometimes to
Ch. II.]
131
THE FIRST EPOCH.
be delayed in publication till almost noon. If this
occurred on a Saturday, the "Times," or the "Post,"
or the "Chronicle," or the "British Press," not
reaching Windsor till six in the evening, another
leader would then have to be written. Sometimes
the "Times," upon which most reliance could be
placed for the latest news, did not come at all.
During the excitement of the great war-time the
demand outran the supply, for it was not till the end
of 1814 that the "Times" was printed by steam
machinery.
Our journal being once safely at press, there would
come the arrangements for its distribution through
the rural districts, in addition to the small number
which had been sent off by post. The hamlets and
scattered farm-houses and gentlemen's seats could
not be reached by the post, at a time when not
one village in twenty had a post-office-when letters
and newspapers remained with the postmaster of the
market-town till they were called for by the inhabi-
tants of the surrounding district. Many a populous
parish was thus left to chance for the receipt of its
private or its public intelligence. Our new paper
would have to meet this difficulty by our own express-
carts, which were to travel long distances, and by
pedestrians, who would have many a weary mile to
trudge over unfrequented roads. These deliverers
would seldom receive payment from the subscribers.
The debts would accumulate, requiring to be col-
lected at periodical visits.
Remittances in many
cases could not easily be made; in some cases they
would be impossible, for the system of postal money-
orders was a quarter of a century later.
The price of a country newspaper was, in almost
I 2
132
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. II.
i
every case, sevenpence. The wages of mechanical
labour were high, keeping pace with the price of
wheat, which in 1812 was 150s, a quarter. Paper was
extremely dear, the duty being threepence a pound,
and the cheapening by the paper machine, now so
efficient, being then one of the visions of the pro-
jector. In the absence, besides, of all the modern
appliances of civilization such as I have recited—
which have so lessened the cost of a provincial
journal, and have increased the demand in a far
greater ratio than the doubling of the population-
the number of country newspapers was comparatively
small. Throughout England there were less than a
hundred. There were not a great many of them
which ventured upon original writing; but the
leading article had become a feature with those of
the higher class, such as the "Leeds Mercury," after
the beginning of the century. To express strong
opinions upon gross abuses was, however, a service of
danger which most editors avoided in the days of ex
officio informations.
It was a perilous time for the newspaper press,
for the people were discontented, and the authorities
were sensitive. They were especially sensitive in
this war-time as to any strictures which were sup-
posed to have a tendency to weaken the allegiance
of the army, or render soldiers less satisfied under
the severe discipline by which alone obedience was
held to be capable of enforcement. Military flogging
was one of the forbidden subjects for editorial com-
ment. In the year 1812, William Cobbett was in
Newgate, having been sentenced in 1810 to two years'
imprisonment and a fine of a thousand pounds for a
virulent effusion upon a punishment which had taken
Ch. II.]
133
THE FIRST EPOCH.
(C
place in the local militia of Ely. In the "Stamford
News," a paper most ably conducted by Mr. John
Scott (afterwards editor of the "Champion"), an
article appeared at the same period, in which flogging
was described as a species of torture at least as
exquisite as any that was ever devised by the infer-
nal ingenuity of the Inquisition." This article was
copied into the "Examiner," and Sir Vicary Gibbs,
the Attorney-General, filed informations against both
papers. The trial of John and Leigh Hunt came on
the first, before Lord Ellenborough, who laboured
hard for a conviction. They were defended by Mr.
Brougham, and the Middlesex jury acquitted them.
The subsequent trial of Mr. Drakard, the proprietor
of the "Stamford News," resulted in his conviction,
although the same advocate defended him. He was
sentenced to eighteen months' imprisonment. Such
a notable example of the uncertainty of trial by jury
in matters of political libel could give a public writer
no great confidence that incautious words, without
evil intentions, might not be visited with punishment.
such as is earned by atrocious crimes. There was
another subject upon which the law-officers of the
Crown were equally determined to war against
public opinion. In proportion as the Prince Regent
was becoming unpopular, the Attorney-General re-
sented any reflections upon his coxcombry and his
frivolous tastes. Moore ran great risks when he
dubbed the Prince "the Mæcenas of Tailors." But.
it was "most tolerable and not to be endured" by
the Dogberries who guarded the honour of Carlton
House, when a newspaper writer, who was not a pet
of fashion, dared to say of his Royal Highness-in
ridicule of a fulsome article in the "Morning Post" in
134
[Ch. II.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
which he was called "an Adonis in loveliness "—that
this Adonis was "a corpulent gentleman of fifty."
The ex-officio information against John and Leigh
Hunt, for a libel in the "Examiner" of March 24th,
1812, resulted in a fine of a thousand pounds and
the imprisonment of each for two years in separate
prisons. Mr. Brougham had again defended the
brothers, and had the satisfaction to be told by Lord
Ellenborough that he had imbibed the spirit of his
client, and seemed to have inoculated himself with
all the poison and mischief which this libel was
calculated to effect. It was undoubtedly strong
language for the "Examiner" to designate the
Prince as (C
a violator of his word, a libertine over
head and ears in debt and disgrace, a despiser of
domestic ties, the companion of gamblers and demi-
reps, a man who has just closed half a century
without one single claim on the gratitude of his
country or the respect of posterity." Posterity has
not given such an answer as would put to shame this
daring appeal to its judgment. But the dispassionate
lookers-on of that period could not think it seemly
that such harsh truths should be told of him who
stood in the place of a king-who, as chief magis-
trate, ought to claim from the people all respect and
reverence.
But it was not only the dread of indictment for poli-
tical libel that hung over the head of the newspaper
proprietor in 1812. Any statement of fact, or any
comment upon occurrences that might be supposed
to affect private character, were constantly made
the subject of actions, got up by rapacious attorneys,
speculating upon that love of litigation which was
then especially characteristic of the English. It was
Ch. II.]
135
THE FIRST EPOCH.
not till thirty years after 1812 that Lord Campbell's
Act gave to the journalist the power to plead, in any
action for libel, "that such libel was inserted in such
newspaper without actual malice, and without gross
negligence; and that before the commencement of
the action, or at the earliest opportunity afterwards,
he inserted in such newspaper a full apology for such
libel." Imagine, at the present day, the Lord Chief
Justice of the Court of Queen's Bench trying an
action for libel,-with two leaders, such as Mr. Den-
man for the prosecution, and Mr. Scarlett for the
defence,—the alleged libel being the report in a
country newspaper of a flagrant case of cruelty
which was a notorious subject of local indignation.
The libel consisted in terming that "a brutal assault,”
upon which the assailants were held to bail. Imagine
that the persons whose characters were thus defamed
were a pig-keeper and his wife, who let lodgings to
poor people; and having a dispute with a family of
which the mother had only been confined a week,
threatened to pull the bed from under her, and turn
her into the street. Imagine a London jury finding
a verdict for the plaintiff, with 501. damages. Imagine
a second action for the same libel being brought by
the wife. Imagine ten several actions against ten
London papers, for reporting the trial in the King's
Bench with a few words of just comment upon the
scandal of such litigation, when there was no "private
malice" or "gross negligence." Imagine a hungry
attorney, prowling for prey, at the bottom of all these
actions, who had no object to attain but the heavy
costs which he pocketed. These verdicts cost me
500l. in 1825. Is not the newspaper press in a
better condition than it was in, forty years ago?
!
136
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. II.
+
The perils of the Libel Law did not much affect
my confident belief in 1812 that I could navigate my
little bark in safety. But I did feel, perhaps too
acutely, the difficulties of my position as a journalist
under the shadow of the Castle at Windsor. It was
a time in which the patriotism which had upheld the
nation through the fierce struggle of twenty years.
required, at this great crisis of our history, when the
fate of England was trembling in the balance, the
prop of a sincere and spontaneous loyalty. I deeply
felt, as one about to become a public writer, that
upon the head of the Government I could only
bestow
"mouth-honour, breath
Which the poor heart would fain deny but dare not.”
I look back upon the public feeling of the first
twenty years of my working life, and compare it
with the quarter of a century which was blessed with
a female Sovereign. Oh, could the generation which,
during the reign of Victoria, has entered upon the
duties of mature age, know the full value of their
privilege in being able to cherish the loyalty of the
subject, not as an abstract principle, but as a holy
sentiment, often rising into the warmest devotion,
they would pity the youth of a less happy time, who
had a struggle to maintain even his love of country
amidst the " curses not loud but deep" which at-
tended its sensual and frivolous ruler! We should
have been perhaps plunged into a profounder abyss
of royal degradation, had not the long-established
habit of decency still kept the public Court circle
free from ladies whose misfortune (as Lord
Ellenborough termed the fashionable sin upon the
((
""
Ch. II.]
137
THE FIRST EPOCH.
trial of the Hunts) met with no pity in the eyes of
the rigid Queen Charlotte.
The political atmosphere was not very bright on
the 1st of August, 1812, when the Windsor news-
paper struggled into life. The 29th of July was a
day of gloom, for the intelligence arrived that the
United States of America had declared war against
Great Britain. Wellington had advanced into Spain
in June. His position was a very difficult one. The
English army and the French army were on opposite
banks of the Douro in the early part of July. Mar-
mont was expecting a large accession of strength in
the junction of King Joseph's army from Madrid.
Wellington was disappointed of the arrival of rein-
forcements under Lord William Bentinck. There
was a wide-spread conviction that the Government at
home was feebly supporting the one great captain
whose genius appeared likely to retrieve the disasters
of a long series of "warriors" not "for the working-
day." Parliament was prorogued on the 29th of
July. The speech of the Prince Regent was in no
degree a jubilant prophecy of a glorious future. It
tamely expressed a trust that the independence of
the Peninsula would be secured; and hoped that
Parliament would duly appreciate the importance of
the struggle in which the Emperor of Russia had
been compelled to engage.
Little at that doubtful period did I foresee that
for the next two years the war would assume such
gigantic proportions that the chief difficulty of a
journalist, not insensible to the honour and safety of
his country, would be to calm down his feelings.
His duty would lie in the endeavour not to surrender
himself wholly and absolutely to the wondrous excite-
138
[Ch. II.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
ment of the hour; amidst the elevation of spirit
which invested the technical details of an Extra-
ordinary Gazette with no little of the splendour of an
epic poem, not to forget that there was a battle to
be fought at home-social wrongs to be inquired
into, popular ignorance to be combated, rude assaults
of democratic violence to be resisted, antiquated fal-
lacies in political economy to be exposed. No one
who belongs to a later generation can properly esti-
mate the national feeling of half a century ago, when
the war was for life or death, for liberty or slavery.
But, with all this enthusiasm, the grandeur of the
crisis through which we were passing could not then
be fully understood. The journalist might present
the multifarious details of this mighty war with
fidelity. He might lose no opportunity of keeping
alive that spirit which had sustained the country
through twenty years of unprecedented danger. But
for a philosophic comprehension of events amidst
which the finger of Providence might be dimly des-
cried pointing to a better future, he must watch and
wait, till his vision should be enlarged by the lapse
of time into something like a historical perception of
these aspects of Mutability.
It was Sunday night the 16th of August. The
evening promenade in the Long Walk, which had
succeeded to the regal promenade on the Terrace,
had been interrupted by the sudden withdrawal of
the band of the 29th Regiment, who were summoned
to their barracks. The sun had gone down behind
the hills of the forest, as I sat lonely in a cottage
belonging to my father, which then stood apart from
any other houses, fronting the Long Walk. I was
meditating upon the unofficial news, which had
j
Ch. II.]
139
THE FIRST EPOCH.
arrived on the Saturday night, of a victory in Spain
-shaping my thoughts into exulting verse as the
death-song of a Guerilla who lay bleeding on that
battle-field. Suddenly, from the not distant bar-
racks, rose the burst of "God save the King," and
the cheers of a multitude. I rushed to the town.
The 29th Regiment was marching out of Park Street
along the Frogmore Road to the inspiriting tune
which revolutionary Frenchmen called "çà ira," but
which loyal Englishmen translated into "The Down-
fall of Paris." The Extraordinary Gazette, containing
Wellington's despatches relating to the great victory
of Salamanca, had been published on that Sunday
morning, and had arrived at Windsor, to demand
from the enthusiasm of the moment this hasty night-
march. I followed the measured tramp of the sol-
diery, in common with the great mass of our popu-
lation, unknowing what was to be done, and yet
filled with the passionate desire of the hundreds
around me to give expression to the belief that the
tide had turned-that England might shout for a
mighty victory by land, as she had shouted for the
Nile and for Trafalgar. The joyous troops marched
into a field adjoining Frogmore Gardens, and there,
formed into line, fired three volleys, and gave three
cheers. Such was the British war-cry which they
had given three years before, when they met the
French at Talavera, and contributed their part to the
great battle which, says the strategist Jomini, "re-
covered the glory of the successors of Marlborough,
which for a century had declined, and showed that
the English infantry could contend with the best in
Europe." If Talavera was the hardest-fought battle
of modern times, as Sir. Arthur Wellesley described
140
[Ch. II.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
it, Salamanca was the most fruitful in its results.
This victory of Wellington over Marmont gave con-
fidence to Russia, and awakened the hopes of Germany
that a new era was approaching. My "Dying Gue-
rilla was not a false prophet when he exclaimed-
""
"I see embattled Europe's wrath sublime
Rush to the field and blacken all the clime;
Insulted nations spurn their blood-stain❜d lord,
And Vengeance draw the soul-redeeming sword." *
The first duty of a Provincial Journalist is to pre-
sent always a faithful, and if possible a full, account
of the occurrences of his district. But how little
of all this is worth a more permanent record! I was
unfortunate in having few noteable things to relate
beyond the ordinary routine of the life of the Castle,
and the monotonous proceedings of vestries and
borough magistrates. Quarter-Sessions offered little
of abiding interest. Assizes sometimes furnished
something characteristic of the age, which looked
like materials for the Annual Chronicler. But the
most exciting of such matters are apt to become as
motes in the historical sunbeam. I glance over my
old newspapers, and almost wonder how many local
trifles came to be printed. And yet the work of the
"penny-a-liner" is the most attractive, whether in
town or country, for its little day. Shall I relate a
ghost-story which greatly excited the people of
Windsor, even amidst the stir of a general election,
in 1812? On the Terrace, sentinels were stationed
at various points during the twenty-four hours. Most
persons have heard the apocryphal tale of the sen-
tinel who was found at midnight asleep, as it was
* Windsor Express, August 22, 1812.
Ch. II.]
141
THE FIRST EPOCH.
supposed, on his post, and who proved his fidelity by
maintaining that he had heard St. Paul's clock strike
thirteen, which it was ascertained to have done, ac-
cording to the legend. As a boy, I have listened to
stories of a black dog walking on the Terrace, wear-
ing a large chain which he fearfully clanked. After
the King's seclusion in the apartments looking upon
the North Terrace, such stories became more com-
mon. On the night of the 29th of September, the
corporal's relief-guard found beneath the window of
a private room under Queen Elizabeth's Gallery, a
brave fellow of the 29th Regiment, who had been
wounded twice at Talavera, prostrate with his musket,
his bayonet and his cap by his side. Taken to the
guard-room, he related how he had seen a figure in
black approaching him; how he had challenged it,
but was unanswered; how having brought his mus-
ket to the charge, and advanced towards it, the figure
disappeared; and how after an interval of more than
an hour, the figure again appearing, he cried out,
"I'm lost-I'm lost." Even when a mischievous
artist was, shortly after, compelled to leave his
pleasant apartments, carrying his phantasmagorian
devices with him, it was difficult for many to com-
prehend, in our somewhat benighted town, that
optical deceptions were not difficult to manage.
The staple of my newspaper was Politics. I am
not about to offer any narrative of the great events
of the greatest era of modern history, but I cannot
wholly pass them over. When I look back upon the
autumn and winter of 1812, and call to mind the
ever-varied excitement attending the wars in Spain,
in Russia, in America, I feel that such a concentration
of points of immense public interest scarcely ever
142
[Ch. II.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
(C
before demanded the vigilant and faithful attention
of the journalist. The victory of Salamanca was fol-
lowed by the entrance of Wellington into Madrid,
and then came the unwelcome intelligence of the
raising of the siege of Burgos, and the retreat of the
British army. I was the echo of the loud voice of
public complaint, that in the barracks and arsenals
of Great Britain should have slumbered that force
which, two months before, would have put the Penin-
sular war beyond the reverses of fortune. I denounced
the policy which still regarded the contest as a war
of experiment-the policy of a weak government,
ready again for the course of repairing errors by an
expenditure of means which far outran the limits of
their original necessity. Demosthenes," I said,
"reproached the Athenians that they were like rustics.
in a fencing-school, who, after a blow, guard the part
that was hit, and not before." Yet the gloom pro-
duced by the retreat to Portugal, after the triumph
of Salamanca, was scarcely so intense, because it was
unmixed with a feeling of national disgrace, as when
in that autumn three British ships, in three distinct
engagements, struck the once invincible flag to the
American stars and stripes. In October it was known
that the French were in Moscow, and that the Em-
peror was lodged in the Kremlin. The fluctuating
fortunes of those times might well teach the public
writer the great duty contained in the sermon of six
words "in adversity hope, in prosperity consider."
Even whilst the French, after a perilous occupation
of the great city, marched forth from the burning
ruins of Moscow, there was hope, but not certainty,
that the European struggle was coming to an end.
But on Christmas Day, the French papers, announcing
Ch. II.]
143
THE FIRST EPOCH.
the return of Bonaparte to Paris, and containing the
famous twenty-ninth bulletin which could not con-
ceal the almost total annihilation of the French army,
rendered that joyous festival one of unusual solem-
nity. However great might be the national gladness
at our apparent deliverance, it was not in the spirit
of Christianity that we should read with unmixed
exultation the frightful narrative of the extermination
of half a million of men. It was a solemn judgment
upon "the vanity of human wishes," when those who
a few months before were conquering invaders, were
finally to perish in a hasty retreat through a dreary
and desolated region-the stronger, who fell beneath
the unsparing sabre of a pursuing enemy, happier
than the weaker who died by the wayside under the
inflictions of Heaven which their leader had hoped to
evade the biting frost, the arrowy sleet, and the
blinding snow-storm.
I never could quite relish the humour of Southey's
song
of "The March to Moscow." I knew how much
of horror was involved in the forced confessions of
Napoleon: "The enemy, who saw upon the roads
traces of the frightful calamity which had overtaken
the French army, endeavoured to take advantage
of it. He surrounded all the columns with his Cos-
sacks, who carried off, like the Arabs in the deserts,
the trains and carriages which separated. This con-
temptible cavalry, which only makes a noise, and
is not capable of penetrating through a company
of Voltigeurs, rendered themselves formidable by
favour of circumstances." The grim fun of the
Laureate's song seems now to be the voice of revelry
in a charnel-house:
144
[Ch. II.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
"And worse and worse the weather grew,
The fields were so white and the sky so blue.
Sacrebleu! Ventrebleu !
What a terrible journey from Moscow !"
It is a grotesque tragedy which describes how
"Platoff he played them off,
And Markoff he marked them off,
And Touchekoff he touched them off,
And Kutusoff he cut them off,
And Woronzoff he worried them off,
And Doctoroff he doctored them off,
And Rodinoff he flogged them off."
Half a century makes a difference in the intensity of
national hatreds. And thus, we apprehend, few
would now join in heartfelt admiration of the pious
imitation of Dante which winds up Southey's popular
and prophetic song of thanksgiving:
"'Twas as much too cold upon the road
As it was too hot at Moscow,
But there is a place which he must go to,
Where the fire is red and the brimstone bluc,
Morbleu Parbleu !
He'll find it much hotter than Moscow."
And yet this was the tone that, from the beginning
of the century, faithfully represented the popular
feeling of the middle classes of Englishmen. When
the ambitious despot was finally struck down-when
the Prometheus, who had long dazzled the world with
the fire that he boasted to have drawn from Heaven,
was bound to a solitary rock in the Atlantic-we
began to feel some pity for the fallen. Gradually we
came to acknowledge the splendour of his military
genius; to believe that he was not altogether alien
to humanity; to confess, with some contrition, that
Ch. II.]
145
THE FIRST EPOCH.
the "place which he must go to" was to be deter-
mined by a purer and higher wisdom than the pas-
sions of his enemies, however just might have been
their original hostility. I have seen this bitterness
subside with some into a maudlin feeling of admira-
tion-a prostration before Power, enslaving the mind
even more effectually than a blind patriotism.
The spring of 1813 brought with it a lull in the
hurricane of foreign politics. Windsor was excited
by a grand royal funeral-that of the Duchess of
Brunswick, on the 31st of March. But there was a
stronger excitement in some mysterious circumstances
which followed that funeral. It was known that,
previous to the interment, while workmen were
employed in making a subterraneous passage from
the middle of the choir of St. George's Chapel to the
new Royal Mausoleum under the building called
Wolsey's Tomb-House, they had accidentally broken
away a part of the vault of Henry the Eighth, but
which was not then opened. On the morning after
the funeral the Prince Regent was seen to enter the
Chapel, attended by Sir Henry Halford. A master-
mason and a master-plumber had been previously
sent for, who were to do some work with their own
hands which could not be entrusted to common
mechanics, and about which they were to preserve
the most profound secresy. The Chapel was again
closed; the Prince Regent returned to the Castle;
the mason and plumber, burdened with some tremen-
dous mystery, were afraid to speak to their curious
neighbours; and yet the mystery did ooze out.
Solemn whisperings went from the Castle to the
town; from the town to the villages; and wild
rumours soon found their way to London.
The most
VOL. I.
K
146
[Ch. II.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
various and contradictory narratives now had their
due place in the daily papers. For myself, I deemed
it prudent to remain silent, rather than become a
propagator of erroneous details and absurd fictions.
I was enabled at last to present an authentic account
of the investigations which took place in the vault of
Henry the Eighth. This differed very slightly from
the narrative published a fortnight afterwards by Sir
Henry Halford. The intimation of Clarendon, that
after the Restoration the body of Charles the First
could not be found after the most diligent search,
was disproved by the discovery of the 1st of April,
1813. When the plumber had cut open the upper
part of the leaden coffin, and the cerecloth in which
the body had been wrapped was removed, there was
the long oval face with the pointed beard, which
reminded those present of the portraits of Vandyke.
The head was loose, although it had been carefully
adjusted to the shoulders, and it was taken up with-
out difficulty, and held to view. The narrative of
the court physician has no false delicacy in attempting
to conceal the results of this remarkable examination.
Perhaps the epigram of an uncourtly poet may pre-
sent to posterity a more vivid picture of the scene as
regarded its living accessories :-
"Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties,
By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies.
Between them stands another sceptred thing-
It moves, it reigns-in all but name a king.
Charles to his people, Henry to his wife,
In him the double tyrant starts to life.
Justice and death have mix'd their dust in vain ;
Each royal vampire wakes to life again.
Ah, what can tombs avail ! since these disgorge
The blood and dust of both-to mould a George."
Ch. II.]
147
THE FIRST EPOCH.
I know not how these "Windsor Poetics," as they
are entitled in the complete edition of Byron's works,
came to my knowledge some half century ago, and
were fixed in my memory, with several variations.
Possibly they lived some time as an oral tradition,
which was eagerly transmitted amongst the great
majority who had no love for the Regent. Thus it
was that party hatreds fell with all their bitterness on
the head of the Prince of Wales, as national hatreds
blackened the character of Napoleon. The lapse of
fifty years has produced the same results in either
case. We do not speak of the Regent with the bit-
terness of some of his contemporaries. We smile at
his frivolities; we have some pity even for his errors;
we do not believe that he meant to be a "Charles to
his people;" and if he had something of the bearing
of "Henry to his wife," we must admit that he was
not "the double tyrant" of these farouche lines, and
simply desired to be left unmolested, to live for him-
self alone, not overmuch caring for "sacred ties,'
public or domestic. When the Regent was "the
first gentleman in Europe," in aristocratic phrase,
we did not know that he wanted the prime quality
of a gentleman, that of speaking the truth. When
Scott recorded the king's condescending kindness,
relying upon "Windsor" for the advancement of his
son, we scarcely took into account that Scott, by
nature and education, was an idolator of those born
in the purple, living or dead. When Thackeray,
having imbibed the democratic spirit of another
generation in spite of himself, heaps odium upon the
Fourth George, we accept the bitter phrases without
much inquiry into evidence. There was a time when
this nominal or actual sovereign had enthusiastic
""
K 2
148
[Ch. II.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
partizans. But when he was an ingrate to the
Whigs, and deceived the Tories about Catholic Eman-
cipation, he became, to most men, a mere Sybarite,
unworthy of a throne. Will dispassionate History be
more tender?
My business and my inclination often led me now
to the capital. There I was enabled to gather some
flavour for my insipid dish of Windsor ideas, in the
full flow of London talk. There I got away from the
Court atmosphere, and the College atmosphere, and
the Corporation atmosphere, to think boldly and
speak freely with friends who were fighting their
way amidst a crowd of aspirants in Law, in Litera-
ture, and in the Arts. Politics, however, were the
absorbing topics of every society. The people of
Germany had risen as one man to do battle against
the conqueror, humbled but not overthrown, at whose
feet the sovereigns had crouched. The adherents of
the Bourbons in London were full of revived and
long-suspended energies. I was introduced to one
who had played an important part before the meeting
of the States-General-the Marquis of Chambonas.
I passed some pleasant and instructive evenings with
the former lord of a great château near Montpelier,
in the Fleet Prison. Here, for some mysterious.
reason, he had lived, securely and contentedly, with
his niece, for some years; never going beyond the
walls, untouched by the squalid misery of the place,
having no companionship with other prisoners, but
holding audience in a large and well-furnished apart-
ment, where men of note, even such men as George
Canning, would come to visit him. His ostensible
occupation was that of a teacher of the French lan-
guage. On certain nights of the week he held a
Ch. II.]
149
THE FIRST EPOCH.
soirée, at which he would read a French author,
interspersing a running commentary of spirited and
tasteful criticism. I regretted that before his return
to France at the peace of 1814, I had not availed
myself of his proposition that I should correspond
with him for my improvement in a French style.
There was something more than met the eye in that
proposal. I came to learn that the old Marquis had
been so long secluded from the outer world, that he
might be a safe and unsuspected recipient of the
secrets of the Royalists on the other side of the
channel. It was not to obtain a correct accent, to
hear Racine and Molière read with unaccustomed
elegance, that writers and statesmen went to that
second floor of the Fleet Prison, where the Marquis
sat through all the changes of seasons, not deficient
in any of the means of procuring abundant comforts
and luxuries. His lively niece had her piano; she
was always ready to mix with the select acquaintance
who found their way to her strange abode; and the
monotony of her life was often relieved by an after-
noon walk with a friend or two-but always with a
female friend—to the Hampstead or Highgate Hills,
care being necessarily taken that she should return
to the Fleet before the "lock-up."
Never were the ordinary politicians, whose opinions
were unceasingly fluctuating amidst the shifting
scenes of the great drama that was being played out,
more baffled and disturbed than in the early summer
of this year. The sanguinary battles of Lutzen and
Bautzen had been fought; and when the exhausted
combatants on either side had agreed to an armistice,
it was believed that there was an end of the German
insurrection, and that there would be another patch-
150
[Ch. II.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE :
ing-up of hostilities as in the days of Tilsit. In the
middle of May Wellington was within his lines in
Portugal. There was a class of people then, as there
always will be, who are best described by the poet
who best knew human nature :
"Success or loss, what is or is not, serves
As stuff for these men to make paradoxes."
The paradox now was, that Wellington was deficient
in boldness because he bided his time. Yet in one
short month he marched from the frontier of Por-
tugal to the opposite frontier of Spain, and on the
21st of June he won the crowning victory of Vittoria.
The consequences of this signal triumph were so
manifest, that people throughout the kingdom gave
themselves up to one tumult of joy, and abandoned
for ever their doubts of the great general who was
now regarded as the hope of Europe. We quickly
passed, too, into a more confident feeling that the
naval supremacy of England was not utterly de-
stroyed. In the same pages in which I had to com-
ment on the great victory by land, I had to record
that wonderful sea-fight of a quarter of an hour
between the Shannon and the Chesapeake, which
lifted our flag as effectually out of the disgrace of
1812 as if a whole American squadron had been car-
ried into Halifax. In August, arrived the news of
the battles of the Pyrenees and the fall of St. Sebas-
tian. The armistice in Germany had come to an end.
In the same month the battle of Dresden had been
fought, and Moreau was killed. Some journals still
doubted the ultimate result of the mighty conti-
nental struggle.
The believers in Moore's Almanack-and they
comprised nearly all the rural population and very
Ch. II.]
151
THE FIRST EPOCH.
many of the dwellers in towns-would turn this year
with deep anxiety to the wondrous hieroglyphic
which was to exhibit the destiny of the nations.
When "Master Moore," as the good folks called
him, uttered his mystical sentences under the awful
heading of "Vox Coelorum, Vox Dei, the Voice of
the Heavens is the Voice of God," how small sounded
the mundane reasonings of the newspaper writers.
If the great astrologer prophesied disaster, few would
be the believers in success. There was scarcely a
house in Southern England in which this two shil-
ling's worth of imposture was not to be found. There
was scarcely a farmer who would cut his grass if the
Almanack predicted rain. No cattle-doctor would
give a drench to a cow unless he consulted the table
in the Almanack showing what sign the moon is in,
and what part of the body it governs. When, on the
3rd of November, the guns were fired for the intel-
ligence of the mighty victory of Leipzig, few would
believe that the war would have a favourable termi-
nation till they had read "the Signs of Heaven" in
the mysterious picture which might haply foreshadow
the fall of the Beast in the Revelations. It was more
than probable, in the rapid march of events in that
great time, that the Almanack of Francis Moore,
Physician, which, from the large number printed,
went to press in June, might prescribe something
very unsuited to the diagnostics of the body politic
at the time of its publication in November. But as
the "skimble-skamble stuff" would suit any turn of
fortune, if rightly interpreted, it would be easy to
believe that the prophet had foretold the passage of
the Rhine by the Allied Armies on the last day of
the year.
I
CHAPTER III.

FIND from old letters that at the end
of 1813 I occupied my leisure in writing
a play, which was intended to have some
parallel with the uprising of the German
population. My subject was the deliverance of the
German nation from the Roman yoke by Arminius.
It is one of the usual mistakes of young writers to
believe that some temporary outburst of popular
enthusiasm would ensure success to a poem, and
especially to a drama, which, in the very nature of
its subject, must be little more than a vehicle for
rhetorical display. This is easier than to deal with
the great elements of terror and pity, which must
largely enter into the composition of a tragedy as a
real work of art. My play was sent to Drury Lane,
then managed by a Committee, of which Mr. Whit-
bread was a leading member. My attempt was
treated with all respect; it had a fair consideration,
and its rejection was accompanied with a note suffi-
ciently complimentary :-" There is much spirited
and easy writing in this tragedy. Its greatest fault
appears to be a want of incident and contrivance; it
is too declamatory; and I apprehend the want of
interest and situation would not be compensated by
the neatness and fire of the dialogue." I had sense
enough to know that the objections thus stated were
perfectly just; but I had not then learnt the lesson
Ch. III.]
153
THE FIRST EPOCH.
""
""
which a critical acquaintance with Shakspere, and
with other great dramatists, afterwards impressed
upon me,—that a play unfit for the stage is incapable
of imparting true poetical pleasure in the closet. In
such a drama the unity of object is wanting.
The
action halts. The descriptive passages are elaborated
till the realities of character vanish. I printed my
"Arminius. The book had some success, and
caused me to be enrolled amongst the poets of
England in a Catalogue of Living Authors, and more
permanently in Watt's "Bibliotheca Britannica.
But what is the value of such fame? One living
rival of Magliabecchi,—whose knowledge of books is
as universal as profound, whilst, unlike Magliabecchi,
he is able profitably to use his knowledge,—tells me
that there is not a copy of my play in the British
Museum. My vanity is soothed a little by re-
membering that one of the scenes is to be found in
a school-book of elocution, side by side with extracts
from Addison's "Cato," and Brooke's "Gustavus
Vasa." It is not a great fame.
The third week of the new year witnessed that
most unusual occurrence—the stoppage of communi-
cation on some of the most frequented roads of
England and Scotland. There never had been such
a fall of snow in the memory of man, and there has
certainly been nothing like it since. Had railways
been in existence, the obstacles to all travelling and
all commercial transit would have been precisely the
same. It is under such unusual circumstances of
interruption to the business of a busy people that we
best understand the value of roads, and of all the con-
current means of communication which have grown
up during a long period of civilized society. I well
154
[Ch. III.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
remember the consternation and difficulty, when, on
a certain Thursday, our morning coaches set out for
London and were obliged to return; when we learnt
that the only mails which had reached the General
Post Office on the Friday were three from Brighton,
Rye, and Portsmouth; when we knew, from the report
of horsemen and pedestrians, who had contrived to
struggle up from Bath, that the West of England
was completely impassable for carriages; that the
shops in Exeter were shut up, and the doors and
windows of private houses barricaded, by the drifts of
snow. At Oxford no letters or papers arrived for
four days, and there was a blockade far more effectual
than when Cromwell's army was hemming it around.
I made my way on horseback to the Bath road, and
proceeded well enough from Slough to a mile or so
beyond Salthill, through a lane cut through the snow.
which rose on either side like the outer walls of a
mediæval castle. This narrow passage had been
accomplished by the exertions of many labourers,
and the same process was going forward throughout
the northern and western roads. On the 21st of
January a notice was issued from the General Post
Office to all post masters, directing them to apply to the
overseers of parishes to employ all the means in their
power to get the country cleared for the passage of
the mails. A more stringent command was issued
from the Home Office to the Lords-Lieutenants of
counties, for restoring the accustomed means of com-
munication between London and the interior. The
fall of snow was succeeded by an intense frost.
Between Blackfriars Bridge and London Bridge
there was a sort of fair on the ice, which has been
best preserved from oblivion in one of the designs
Ch. III.]
155
THE FIRST EPOCH.
of George Cruikshank, in Hone's "Every Day
Book."
""
The milder days of February gave us back again
the ordinary means of communication from Cornwall
to Lanarkshire. From out of a "House of Glass
Rumour now came flying all abroad, and the land
was alive with the anticipation of great events. The
Allies marched on from the Rhine. Then came the
fruitless struggle which manifested the military
genius of Napoleon as much as any one of his great
victories. From one point to another he rushed to
meet his enemies wherever they appeared; some-
times victorious, sometimes defeated, but always
contriving to make the great issue still doubtful.
Aberdeen the peaceful was for making terms with
him; other statesmen, English and foreign, were
for pushing him to extremities. The risings of
Bordeaux, the second city of the Empire, in favour
of the Bourbons, appeared to indicate that the
popular feeling of France was changing, as regarded
him who had done everything for its glory and
nothing for its happiness. The negociations for
peace were broken off. Whilst Wellington was
fighting his final battle with Soult on the 10th
of April, Paris had capitulated, and the Emperor
of Russia and the King of Prussia had entered
the capital which had appropriated the spoils of a
hundred cities. On the 4th of April, Napoleon had
abdicated, and soon after was on his road to Elba.
For three nights London was in a tumult of exulta-
tion, amidst illuminations of unprecedented bril-
liancy. On the 3rd of May, Louis the Eighteenth
was in the Tuileries. In England the beauty of the
spring weather was such as had scarcely ever been
156
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. III.
remembered. Poets seized upon it as an omen of
future happiness. Leigh Hunt-who had endured
enough to render him cold to a cause which was that
of the ruling powers at home and of royalty in
general-looked at this crisis as somewhat like a
final triumph over war and oppression, and in his
new-born zeal wrote a Mask, "The Descent of
Liberty," to which the glories of the spring lent their
most poetical associations. We had our especial turn
of patriotic excitement at Windsor. The great festi-
vities in London when the Emperor of Russia and
the King of Prussia arrived; when they were in-
vested with the Order of the Garter at Carlton
House; when the Prince Regent and the two sove-
reigns dined with the Corporation of London at the
Mansion House ;-these were of little importance to
us compared with that of the visit to Windsor of the
Emperor of Russia with his famous Platoff, and of the
King of Prussia with his no less famous Blücher.
In the "Poetical Remains" of William Sidney
Walker, with whom I was associated in after life,
there is a letter from him when a boy at Eton,
dated the 6th of July, 1814, in which he says, “I
have shaken hands with the King of Prussia and
Platoff, and have touched the flap of Blücher's coat.
I shall have it engraven on my tombstone." I cannot
desire so solemn a record, that, having arrived early
at the Ascot Race-ground, I saw the King of Prussia.
-who had ridden thither before the rest of the
royal party-buying a penny roll and a slice of cheese
at one of the common booths, and marching up and
down, cutting his humble luncheon with a pocket-
knife which I supposed he had carried through many
a troublous campaign. Nor shall I claim any special
Ch. III.]
157
THE FIRST EPOCH.
distinction for having looked at Frogmore upon the
hard leather camp-bed upon which the Emperor of
Russia slept, preferring it to the state-bed of down
which had been provided for him. The sublime per-
sonages went their way, to settle the affairs of
Europe as they best could according to their pecu-
liar desires. After the great realities of a quarter of
a century, the people of London were to be delighted
with a sea-fight of little boats on the Serpentine;
with Chinese lanterns and Congreve rockets in St.
James's Park; with a Temple of Concord, which was
a superb enlargement of a device on a Twelfth Cake;
and with somewhat of an approach to an attractive
sight in the conflagration of a temporary bridge over
the then muddy canal in the Park, by which accident
a few lives were lost. I saw as much as I could see of
the whole affair, and I must say that even then I
thought it very considerably like child's play. Of
course I took a more exalted view of the historical
grandeur of this season of rejoicing and felicitation
when the Duke of Wellington was to arrive at
Windsor, for the purpose of reviewing his regiment
of the Horse Guards Blue, and I was requested by
the Corporation to write an Address to be presented
to his Grace by the Town Clerk. I very much fear
that its stilted paragraphs were a humble imitation
of that Address of the Speaker of the House of Com-
mons, when he said, "This nation well knows that it
is largely your debtor." The Duke, on the 6th of
August, received the Corporation in the hall of the
Castle Inn, somewhat weary, I suppose, of the
manner in which, as he said, "he had been received
in different parts of the kingdom." I crept into that
narrow hall, between the red gowns and the blue
158
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. III.
gowns, some of whom stood in the street; and I was
not very proud of my fine paragraphs when I looked
upon that impassive face, and thinking of what
welded iron that conqueror of Bonaparte was made,
fancied how little the men of action appreciated the
sounding periods of the men of words. I did not
then know with what success this great soldier would
vindicate his own claim to be ranked amongst the
best writers.
For three months England had been putting on
her brightest holiday face. It was one long gala-day.
Those who had won the victory, and those who had
thrown up their caps for it, were equally ready to
exclaim-
"Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings;
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
A month had passed since the Duke of Wellington
had banqueted with the officers of his fine regiment;
and then the Blues went forth to a mimic war, of
which I was a gratified spectator.
On the 21st of August an official notice was pub-
lished, that several attempts had been made to kill
the king's deer in the walks of Windsor Forest, under
an apprehension that the Forest Inclosure Act sanc-
tioned such proceedings. The clause of that Act
which applied to this question of deer-killing was
then set forth, to the effect, that all the lands within
the Parishes and Liberties of the Forest-save and
except such parts thereof as are now vested, or shall
become vested, in his Majesty-shall be and are, from
and after the 1st of July, 1814, disafforested, and no
persons thenceforth shall be questioned or liable to
A
Ch. III.]
159
THE FIRST EPOCH.
punishment for hunting, taking, or destroying deer
within the same. The inclosure of Windsor Forest
was perhaps one of the largest inclosures ever effected
under the powers of one Act. The Forest, whose
circuit, two centuries previous, was nearly eighteen
miles, though considerably reduced in later years,
comprised at the time of the inclosure the whole of
eleven parishes and parts of six other parishes. The
inclosed property of the Crown within the Forest
then amounted to about five thousand acres; that of
individual proprietors to about thirty thousand acres;
and the open Forest land to about twenty-five thou-
sand acres.
Of this uninclosed portion more than
one-fourth was allotted to the King, as Lord of the
Forest and as proprietor of various manors. After
the disafforestation, therefore, large tracts of land
beyond the boundaries of Windsor Great Park were
the wild forest" and "the holts," or wooded hills,
as described by Lord Surrey in the reign of Henry
the Eighth. Few now read Pope's "Windsor Forest,"
but he had an eye of true observation for the charac-
teristics of the scenery amidst which he lived; its
lawns and open glades, its russet plains, its bluish
hills, its wild heaths with their purple dyes, its fruit-
ful fields amidst the desert. In these intermingled
scenes of wood and pasturage, and over the wide
heaths covered with gorse and fern, small herds of
deer wandered at will, not dreading the shot of any
Herne the Hunter," as they sought their evening lair,
and keeping far away from the villages and farms.
(C
(C
In the parish of Bray there was a land-proprietor
occupying that middle rank between the farmer and
the gentleman, which was more common at a time
when gentility was not thought worth many sacrifices
160
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. III.
of comfort and independence, by the older race of
cultivators and tradesmen. He was a man of infinite
annoyance to all persons in authority, arguing at
vestries and manor-courts with a bold and quaint
humour, whose oddity was heightened by a peculiar
snuffle in his voice. He was especially at feud with
the steward of the royal manor in which he lived,
who was also the solicitor for the affairs of the Forest.
After the 1st of July this shrewd and eccentric yeo-
man became the Robin Hood of the district. He had
lieutenants as daring as Will Scarlet and Little John,
with a band of marauders, swift of foot and with the
sure aim of experienced poachers, who chased the
deer from parish to parish, whilst justice of peace and
constable looked on with helpless dismay. It was
impossible to distinguish the uninclosed parts allotted
to the Crown, although distinctly specified in the
awards of the inclosure, from those parts which were
disafforested. It was in vain to proclaim that if any
person killed red or fallow deer in such specified
allotments, they would be liable to the penalties.
of the Acts to prevent the stealing of deer. Other
powers than those of the law must be resorted to.
In the second week of September strong detach-
ments of the Horse Guards and of the Fifth Infantry
were employed for two days in driving the deer to
safe coverts and fenced inclosures where the marauders
could not come. I looked upon this extraordinary
scene from the high ground near Cranbourn, which at
this time was the residence of the Princess Charlotte.
Well do I remember her sunny face, as she almost
daily drove a pair of ponies up the steep hill of
Windsor, to dine with the Queen, and then returned
to the sequestered mansion in one of the most beau-
Ch. III.]
161
THE FIRST EPOCH.
A
tiful spots of the Forest. From its windows she
might have looked over Winkfield Plain, where this
extraordinary hunting was going forward. Southern
England never saw such a hunting as this of Cran-
bourn Woods. The plain below was a field where
vast armies might manoeuvre, and there I gazed upon
a body of cavalry, stretching from one side of the
plain to the other in the form of a crescent moon,
gradually narrowing the circle in which the fright-
ened deer were driven before them. Occasionally, a
buck would make a bold dash from the rest of the
herd, and then a shout would go forth from the
unmilitary horsemen, and there would be an exciting
chase till he was driven back, or escaped, or was
killed. Amongst the red-coats and the blue, there
was no Douglas ready to do battle with the Percy, so
that this was not a "woful hunting." Most of the
deer were, after two days, driven to the pens of the
Great Park, or were caught in toils hung up on the
trees that skirted the avenues of the forest. The
modern imitators of the outlaws of Sherwood returned
to their hovels, to feast upon less dainty fare than
venison; and the leaders would long tell the stories.
of their adventurous feats, and rejoice in that strength
which had required no less a power than two regi-
ments of the Crown to subdue it.
My newspaper of the 3rd of December contained a
paragraph which I had copied from "The Times" of
November the 29th, 1814, not interesting, perhaps,
to the majority of my provincial readers, but which
strongly excited my wonder and curiosity, and led
me into obscure speculations of what might be the
probable consequences of what "The Times" described
as "the greatest improvement connected with print-
VOL. I.
L
162
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. III.
ing since the discovery of the art itself." Well know-
ing the great bodily exertion which up to that time
was required of two men working at the common
press, to produce two hundred and fifty impressions of
one side of a newspaper in an hour, I might well be
surprised when I read as follows:-"The reader of this
paragraph now holds in his hand one of the many
thousand impressions of The Times' newspaper
which were taken off last night, by a mechanical
apparatus. A system of machinery almost organic
has been devised and arranged, which, while it re-
lieves the human frame of its most laborious efforts
in printing, far exceeds all human powers in rapidity
and dispatch." The process is then briefly described;
and it is added, "the whole of these complicated acts
is performed with such a velocity and simulta-
neousness of movement, that no less than eleven
hundred sheets are impressed in one hour." The
invention is termed in this announcement "The
Printing Machine." The inventor's name was Koenig.
For ten years Mr. Walter, the proprietor of "The
Times," had been vainly endeavouring, at a heavy
cost, to perfect some machinery by which he could
send forth a greater number than the four thousand
copies of his journal which he was able to produce
by the utmost exertion of manual labour. The
machine of Koenig was, however, a most complicated
affair; expensive, liable to derangement, and not
capable, therefore, of being applied to the general
purposes of printing. In 1823 I read in Scott's novel
of "Quentin Durward" the prophetic words of Marti-
valle, "Can I look forward without wonder and asto-
nishment to the lot of a succeeding generation, on
whom knowledge shall descend like the first and
Ch. III.]
163
THE FIRST EPOCH.
second rain, uninterrupted, unabated, unbounded."
The Printing Press had produced the first rain; the
Printing Machine was the "little cloud no bigger
than a man's hand" which promised the second rain.
There was now some chance that the steam-engine
would accomplish for printing what it was accom-
plishing for navigation. In June, 1824, I attended a
trial in the Common Pleas, in which the Duke of
Northumberland was plaintiff, and my friend, Mr.
Clowes, the defendant. The printer, who carried on
his business in Northumberland Court, had erected a
steam-press in his cellar, the wall of which abutted
on the Duke's princely mansion at Charing Cross.
Ludicrous it was to hear the extravagant terms in
which the counsel for the plaintiff and his witnesses
described the alleged nuisance-the noise made by
this engine, quite horrid, sometimes resembling
thunder, at other times like a threshing-machine,
and then again like the rumbling of carts and wag-
gons. With surpassing ability was the cause of the
defendant conducted by the Attorney-General (Cop-
ley). The course of the trial is beside my present
purpose. Mr. Donkin, the celebrated engineer, de-
posed that there were not less than twenty engines
erected for printing in London. Simplifications of
the original invention had rendered the Printing
Machine applicable to the production of books as
well as newspapers. The second rain was beginning
to descend. In 1814 I was very far from a concep-
tion of the extent in which the invention of the
Printing Machine would affect a future stage in my
working life. But in the boundless fertility of that
second rain I anticipated a wider scope for my pro-
fessional labours. I had incurred new responsibilities,
L 2
164
[Ch. III.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
and had gained new motives for exertion, in marrying.
The Christmas of that year saw my once solitary
home lighted up with love and cheerfulness.
In February, 1815, a Bill was hurried through
Parliament which absolutely closed the ports against
the introduction of foreign corn till the price of wheat
should rise to eighty shillings a quarter. I rejoice to
see that I was fearless of the indignation which the
Windsor paper, circulating chiefly in an agricultural
district, would produce, when I wrote " It is hardly
fair that the landowner and cultivator should enter
Parliament with such a formidable power as the
united voice of the people will scarcely be able to
put down, and there demand that the price of wheat
should now be fixed at the average rate of a time of
war. There are many noble lords and right honour-
able gentlemen who have doubled their rentals since
the year 1794, and there are many very thrifty agri-
culturists who have purchased the estates which their
fathers only tilled, and have adjourned, with unsoiled
hands, from the oak-chair in the chimney-corner to
the velvet sofa in the drawing-room. Doubtless all
this is very agreeable to the parties themselves, and
worldly wisdom will blame no man for preferring
20,000l. to 10,000l., or a hunter and madeira to a
market-cart and ale. But then it is rather galling
to be told that all this is essentially necessary to our
existence and prosperity, and to hear it very gravely
asserted that we shall be all the happier and better
for being shortly allowed to get two loaves with the
money for which we now purchase three."
The "hunter and madeira" as contrasted with the
"market-cart and ale" of the old times, was not un-
generously applied to the generation of Southern
Ch. III.]
165
THE FIRST EPOCH.
farmers, who had sprung up in the days of protection
and paper currency. From no class of men was the
old simplicity of manners so utterly departed. They
were ignorant, to an extent which is now difficult to
conceive, of the improved modes in which agriculture
could be made to repay a judicious advance of capital.
It is impossible to measure the contempt with which
they regarded what they called "book-farming."
They applied all their small industry and less know-
ledge to the growth of wheat, and when wheat was
low in the market they raved about "agricultural
distress." The tenant-farmer appeared to consider,
as much as the Irish cottier considers, that it was a
deadly wrong if a landlord raised his rent, or sought
a better tenant when he beheld his land exhausted,
or the growing corn struggling with the rampant
weeds. Their general ignorance of the commonest
affairs of the non-agricultural life was unbounded.
There was an elderly man supposed to have made a
fortune in dear times, who had given up his profit-
able farm when the landlord thought he ought to
have some increased portion of the great benefit that
the dear loaf had given to the wheat-grower. He took
the chair at the farmer's dinner on every market-
day at Windsor; his two sons were always out with
the stag-hounds; the pony-chaise of his wife might
often be seen at the draper's door. The good man
was homely enough himself, but his family was "gen-
teel" and expensive. Their "dolce far niente" went
on for five years. One morning the unhappy head
of the family opened his bureau, and giving his wife
a ten-pound note, exclaimed, "That is the last on
'em." A subscription was raised to help him in his
destitution; his sons and daughters went to service;
186
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. III.
and he became a road-surveyor before the days of
Macadam, when scientific road-making was as little
understood as scientific farming.
The Corn-Bill was passed amidst the temperate
opposition of a few enlightened statesmen and the
violence of an irritated mob. It was to produce its
full measure of evil in the misery and disaffection of
the people in 1816 and 1817. All discussion upon
a vital subject of political economy was suddenly
interrupted by an event as unexpected as it was
alarming the landing of Bonaparte in the Gulf of St.
Juan, on the 1st of March, 1815. On the 5th of March
-such was the want of means of communication
in the days before the Electric Telegraph-it was
not known in Paris that the ex-Emperor had escaped
from Elba. On the 20th, after midnight, Louis the
Eighteenth had fled from the Tuileries, and on the
21st Napoleon was borne up its grand staircase by an
enthusiastic crowd. There were three months of such
excitement in England as the greatest events of the
late war had failed to produce. There were alterna-
tions of hope and of fear, of distrust and of confi-
dence, in the Allied Powers. But, whatever had been
our experience in the Peninsular campaigns, there was
no very general belief that the military arm of Eng-
land would be the most potent in stopping the march
to the Rhine of the great enemy. The kingdom of the
Netherlands broken up, Prussia humiliated, we might
look to another period of French domination over
Europe. We had our peculiar excitements at Wind-
sor.
The Blues, that a few months before we had
seen chasing the red deer in Windsor Forest, were
now called to sterner duties in the forests and plains
of Belgium. The regiment marched from Windsor
Ch. III.]
167
THE FIRST EPOCH.
on the 30th of April; on the 18th of June it was
doing its part on the field of Waterloo. It is not for
me here to follow the wonderful course of historical
events which ended in the abdication of Napoleon
and the second restoration of the Bourbons. The
great Captive had scarcely sailed from Plymouth to
his rock in the Atlantic, when thoughtful men began
to feel that the millennium of universal peace and
love was not quite close at hand. France could only
be kept quiet by foreign occupation; Spain was
trodden down under the feet of a drivelling idiot
called a king; Poland was manacled to Russia; the
dream of Italian independence was at an end when
Austria was to rule over four millions of the Lom-
bardo-Venetian Kingdom. Promises made in the
hour of danger had been violated when Peoples had
won safety for Crowns. Twenty years of war appeared
to have produced little real and imperishable good.
Such were my thoughts at that crisis, and they were
those of many who would willingly have given them-
selves up to the general exultation at the prospect
that peace had at last been securely won. Great
Britain alone stood in an attitude of unselfishness at
the Congress. She was content only to demand from
France the abolition of the Slave-Trade. The settle-
ment of Europe was effected by the Princes who at
the faro-table of Vienna shuffled and cut for the desti-
nies of the world. The sharers in the spoil might say
with Trinculo, "We steal by line and level."
Proud as I was, in common with the majority of
the nation, of the great triumphs of my countrymen,
especially in the crowning glory of Waterloo, I was
not free from the apprehension that the ancient con-
stitutional doctrine that the military should be kept
168
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. III.
in complete subserviency to the civil power, might
be less strictly maintained at a period when the
soldier had done so much for his country, and when
the ruling head of the State had displayed a very
marked tendency for the pomp and parade of war, if
not for its reality. On the 4th of April, Lord Milton
complained in the House of Commons, that in going
through Piccadilly in an open carriage, in which
street there were not ten carriages, he was prevented
from passing into one of the side streets, where guards
were placed "in the novel manner that had lately
been adopted on court-days." The soldier who had
interrupted his progress struck his horse, and said he
would strike him too if he persisted in passing. The
next day the Earl of Essex made a similar complaint
in the House of Lords, adding, that the soldiers
threatened that if he attempted to proceed, they
would not only cut his horse down, but would cut
him down too. Lord Grenville maintained that the
practice of employing the military on court-days was
of very modern date; and asserted that if the Earl
of Essex, on being threatened with being cut down,
had put the soldier to death, it must have been pro-
nounced by the law of the land to have been justi-
fiable homicide; and if, on the contrary, the soldier
had used the sword, he would have been answerable
for the blow, even to death itself. Lord Sidmouth
declared that, as Secretary of State, he had no concern
in calling out the soldiery; pledging himself that
orders should be issued that no soldier should for
the future act in the preservation of the peace with-
out the guidance and control of the civil officer.
There were circumstances in the aspect of those times
which led us to dread that the separation of the
·
Ch. III.]
169
THE FIRST EPOCH.
soldier from the citizen was a shadowy hope of some
would-be imitators of Continental despotism.
The marriage of the Princess Charlotte with Prince
Leopold, on the 2nd of May, 1816, was an event in
which I took exceeding interest. It set me poetizing;
for I was somewhat too apt to be moved into writing
verse on passing subjects, forgetting that poetry ought
to be almost exclusively conversant with the perma-
nent and universal. My Mask, "The Bridal of the
Isles," whatever might have been its defects, was
not written in the spirit of a courtier; for in the
Second Canto, in which I called up the shades of the
great British rulers of old, I put these lines in the
mouth of Alfred addressing the Genius of England :—
“O, I have watch'd thy monarchs as they pass'd,-
Now leaping upward to my tempting throne,
Now toppling down in hateful civil strife,
Or sliding to the slumbers of the tomb;
But never saw I one who fill'd that seat
In rightful ministration, who might say,
"This is my couch of ease, my chair of joy,
This sceptre is a pleasure-charming rod
To call up all fresh luxuries around me.'
The lofty soul, with reverend eye and meek,
Would look upon the trappings of its state
As emblems of a fearful trust, that ask'd
The smile of Heaven on self-denying virtue.
Yes! I will hover round those youthful hearts,
Unblighted yet by power-and with a voice
Borne on the ear by every morning breeze,
Cry-Live not for yourselves.'
He
I had a very pleasant, because a very character-
istic, letter from Leigh Hunt about this Mask.
complimented me by saying, "It is very crisp and
luxuriant, and shows that you possess in a great
degree my favourite part of the poetical spirit-that
170
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. III.
of enjoyment." Yes. It was that spirit of enjoy-
ment which gave Hunt his perennial youth, amidst
worldly troubles as great as most men have endured;
which, carried somewhat to excess, made him almost
indifferent to adversity in its stern realities. "But,"
he continued, "I would rather talk with you about
these matters than write about them; for when I get
upon poetry I feel my wings on, and do not like to
wait the zig-zag travelling of the pen." Happy
nature! I did not cultivate his acquaintance as I
ought to have done in this fresh time of hope. I
knew him in later years when I was sobered; but
when I had not lost the power of enjoyment in his
delightful conversation, so charming-especially to
one who was also battling with the world-in its
constant looking at the sunny side of human affairs.
The transition from joy at the auspicious marriage
of the Princess Charlotte, to the universal mourning
for her death, was not sudden in point of time, but it
nevertheless came upon the nation as an unexpected
blow, suspending all lesser interests of domestic
politics. The interval between May, 1816, and No-
vember, 1817, was one of very serious aspects. The
Government and the People were not in accord;
suffering and sedition went hand in hand; dema-
gogues flourished; spies were more than tolerated.
Of this unhappy period I shall have to speak in
another chapter. Let me at present advert to some
personal experiences at the funeral of the Princess
Charlotte, on Wednesday evening, the 19th of No-
vember, which I thus related in a Supplementary
Number of "The Windsor Express," published on
the following morning. In this narrative I laid
aside the usual editorial style, and signed my name
Ch. III.]
171
THE FIRST EPOCH.
as to facts which I was prepared individually to sub-
stantiate :-
On the morning of Tuesday I received from one
of the Canons of the College of Windsor a ticket of
admission to the organ-loft of St. George's Chapel, to
witness the ceremonial of the late Princess Charlotte's
interment. This, I was given to understand, was
presented to me by the particular direction of the
Dean and Chapter, to allow me to make a faithful
report of the solemnities, and as a compliment to
the office of chief magistrate which my father holds
in the borough. At seven o'clock this evening I
claimed an entrance at the outer gate of the lower
ward of the Castle, which was kept by two subalterns
of the Foot Guards, and a.numerous body of rank
and file. Constables of the borough were also posted
here, but they were evidently considered as intruders
upon these unconstitutional guardians of the peace.
I was roughly thrust back against the wheels of the
carriages which were passing behind me, and told, in
common with many others who, like myself, had
tickets, that no more would be admitted. For an
hour I was buffeted about, with my unfortunate com-
panions, who comprised some of the most respectable
inhabitants of Windsor; sometimes collared by the
soldiers, sometimes jammed against the castle wall,
and at all times insulted by dogmatical assertions or
sneering indifference. We at last retired in despair,
having risked our lives till danger was no longer
endurable. Ten minutes before the procession
entered the gate, I procured access to one of the
officers, under the escort of a sentinel; and having
represented the peculiar circumstances under which
I had obtained my ticket, and the duty which I
172
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. III.
L
owed to the public to enforce my claim for admission,
requested that the order of exclusion might be with-
drawn. I was haughtily repulsed. At this instant,
two military men, not on duty, with four ladies, were
passed through the gate without any other authority
than the dictum of the officer I was addressing. I
complained of the unjust partiality in a respectful
manner. For that presumption I was instantly
handed over to the next corporal, with orders to
take back that man.' Collared like a felon, I was
forced along the line of foot-guards, and on reaching
the last soldier was thrust against a carriage like an
intrusive hound."
6
Never shall I forget the feelings of that evening.
After my long detention in the vain endeavour to
assert my right of passing the outer gate, I waited to
look upon the street procession. When I came back
to my home, exhausted, boiling over with indigna-
tion, I found my wife in a situation of extreme
danger. For some days she had been seriously ill.
The funeral procession had passed under our windows.
The lurid glare of the torches; the roll of carriages;
the tramp of horses, amidst the universal silence of
the crowd;-these, almost unendurable for any in-
valid, who could hear all but who could not look out
upon a scene so solemn and so exciting, produced the
most alarming effects upon one who was at the
extreme point of weakness. By God's Providence,
our medical friend, a surgeon of the first eminence
in Windsor, returned with me to my house, having
been himself subjected to the outrages of the mili-
tary. He was thus the means of bestowing such
immediate attentions upon his patient as probably
saved her in the dangerous crisis of that melan-
Ch. III.]
173
THE FIRST EPOCH.
choly November night. The one great and enduring
happiness of my life was to be preserved to me.
At this Royal Funeral, when a whole nation was
present in heart and mind, these military outrages
were not the sole disorders and indecencies. The
undertaker's men were unmistakeably drunk, as they
reeled up the steep Castle street. Within St. George's
Chapel there were struggles and murmurs, as in an
overcrowded pit at the theatre; for three or four
hundred rank and file of the Guards were placed
from the western entrance to the extremity of the
nave, so as to prevent nine-tenths of the assemblage
--admitted by tickets-from seeing more of the
solemnity than they could have seen had the outer
walls of the Chapel been the barrier to their desires.
Just before the procession arrived, there was a noisy
conflict at the door of the Choir, which had ulterior
consequences. One of the Canons refused to admit
a confidential page of the Regent, who had been
commanded to notice and report to his royal master
how the ceremony was conducted. "It is our free-
hold," said the Church Dignitary. "It is the Chapel
of the Order of the Garter," replied the offended
Ruler; "and until the clerical ministers of the
Order can behave better, they shall come down
from their accustomed seats in the stalls of the
Knights."
In my newspaper of the Saturday which followed
the Supplement of the 20th of November, I wrote an
article entitled "Excessive Employment of Soldiery
in a Religious Solemnity, and Abuses in Military
Power." My animadversion on "Abuses in Military
Power" was bitter enough in its general invective;
but there was nothing that the epauletted puppies
174
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. III.
who talked of horsewhipping the newspaper-fellow
could have produced in a court of justice as a justi-
fication of a new outrage. I have detailed this
occurrence at somewhat greater length than it pro-
bably deserved; but it presents a striking contrast
not only to the altered temper of the military in
these happier times, but to the manner in which the
conductors of the Press are now respected in the dis-
charge of their useful functions as the accredited
representatives of the people. No military man,
however brutal and ignorant-if ignorance and bru-
tality have not altogether vanished from the soldier's
character-would dare to comport himself as the
officer in command at the Castle-gate behaved to me.
The Horse Guards in the streets displayed the most
exemplary forbearance amidst the crowd. The Foot
Guards, who were posted within the limits of the
Castle, where the civil power was inoperative and the
military power was uncontrollable, however brave
some might have been in the day of battle, displayed,
as I intimated, the very reverse of the character of
the "Happy Warrior".
placable because occasions rise
So often that demand such sacrifice;
More skilful in self-knowledge, e'en more pure
As tempted more; more able to endure,
As more exposed to suffering and distress;
Thence also more alive to tenderness."
It was folly thus to quote Wordsworth for the pos-
sibility of raising a blush upon the cheeks of those
who, "graced with a sword but worthier of a fan,"
were the merest loungers in country quarters, de-
spising, as was the fashion of the mess-room of that
time, every book but the "Racing Calendar" and
Ch. III.]
175
THE FIRST EPOCH.
"Tom and Jerry." Many of the best and bravest of
the English army had fallen at Waterloo. Their
places were supplied by youths from school and col-
lege, who looked to a military life in times of peace
as one of idleness and luxury. To despise the civi-
lian was a part of their training. To maintain such
a discipline as would teach the soldier the duty of
obedience to the civil power and of respect for the
citizen-he himself being a citizen-was not the pre-
vailing doctrine of the barrack in the latter days of
the Regency. The military were too often a nuisance
in the towns where they were quartered. I have a
curious correspondence before me between the Under-
Secretary of State and my father, the Mayor of
Windsor, in March, 1818. Lord Sidmouth, as was
his wont, had sniffed a plot from afar, and Mr. Hob-
house thus called upon the chief magistrate of
Windsor to be vigilant :-
"I am directed by Lord Sidmouth to inform you
that his Lordship has heard of an intention to create
a mob at Windsor on Monday next, under colour of
a wish to ascertain the life of his Majesty. His
Lordship has not at present any decisive proof of
this intention, and perhaps may not receive any; but
he deems it to be right to apprise you of the circum-
stance as it has come to his knowledge, and will
afford you all further information which may reachi
this office. Lord Sidmouth relies with confidence ou
your discretion in quelling any disturbance which
may be attempted; and if any intelligence should be
received by you which you may deem fit to commu-
nicate, he will be ready to give it his best attention.”
The Mayor's reply to the Under-Secretary of State
was as follows:-
176
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. III.
"In answer to your letter, which I had the honour
to receive by a messenger this day, respecting an
intended mob, I beg to assure you, for the informa-
tion of Lord Sidmouth, that I do not entertain the
most distant apprehension of any such circumstance
originating in this neighbourhood. It is said that a
bull is to be baited on Monday next, in a piece of
ground adjoining this town; a brutal amusement,
which has too frequently occurred at this place, which
I would gladly suppress were I possessed of sufficient
authority. Whenever a bull-bait has taken place
here, a very large portion of the military have joined
in the amusement. Lord Sidmouth will judge of the
expediency of interdicting the soldiery joining, under
the apprehended occurrence. Lord Sidmouth may
rely on my utmost precaution to prevent, as well as
my exertion to quell, any disturbance, should such
unfortunately happen."
The correspondence which I have thus given is
probably preserved in the State Paper Office. Ac-
cording to the sensible regulations under which those
valuable materials for history are to be consulted, it
will not be open to the public view till a time when
the researches of the antiquarian will not prema-
turely disclose the secrets of the statesman. Will
posterity conclude, from the mysterious phrase of
the Home Office, "under colour of a wish to ascer-
tain the life of his Majesty," that there was a
popular notion that George III. was dead? I may
venture to say that "the mob," ignorant as it was
for the most part, never entertained such an absurd
belief. The letter of the Mayor of Windsor will fix
that date of our uncivilization when bull-baiting was
a national institution. Windham defended it at the
•
Ch. III.]
177
THE FIRST EPOCH.
the
beginning of the century as tending to keep up
martial spirit of the people. Few of the present
generation remember this. The inhabitants of Wind-
sor in the days of Queen Victoria would indeed be
surprised to see "the surly bull," decorated with
ribbons, led in pomp to their Bachelors' Acre-
perhaps would be as much alarmed, under a show
of courage, as when in the days of Queen Eliza-
beth Master Slender asked Anne Page, "Why
do your dogs bark so? Be there bears in the
town?" Most people indeed think-probably even
those of Birmingham, who daily look upon their
Bull-Ring-that bull-baiting was peculiar to the
Middle Ages. Travelling from Ryde to Ventnor in
the spring of 1863, a bull-ring at Brading was
pointed out to a young man on the coach. He
exclaimed, “What! has there been any bull-baiting
in England within the last hundred years?"
"Aye,
sir,” I told him, "and cock-fighting, too.”
spirit of gambling prevented both amusements from
dying out. The butcher and the costermonger
backed each his dog for pinning the bull. The Staf-
fordshire collier pitted his cock against that of the
sporting farmer. The Wednesbury Cocking had as
much attraction as the Derby of the present day.
"The Cockpit,” which Hogarth immortalized in the
days of George the Second, was succeeded by "the
Westminster Pit" of the Regency, when Members
of Parliament stepped across the way to see the Dog
Billy kill a hundred rats in five minutes. "Varmint"
was an attraction that competed in interest with
the Prize-Fight. Magistrates then took very little
trouble to hunt the Gullys and Tom Springs from
Surrey into Berkshire, and from Berkshire into
VOL. I.
M
The
178
[Ch. III.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE.
Buckinghamshire. They somewhat too frequently
had their rendezvous within a dozen miles of Wind-
sor. The only exhibition of pugilism I ever saw was
perfectly unmolested by justice or constable. It was
on Maidenhead Thicket, where the renowned Pierce
Egan, with a considerate regard for a brother of the
Press, got me a good place, out of which I escaped
as fast as I could, when I saw Young Dutch Sam
fall across the ropes with a broken arm. Those were
the palmy days when the Ring was a national insti-
tution, equally patronized by peer and pickpocket.
But in getting rid of bull-baiting and cock-fighting,
and, to a great extent, of pugilism, have we not, in
these days of diffused intelligence, exhibitions of
barbarism quite as revolting? Female Blondins are
killed now; and the shows go on as tranquilly as if
a monkey had fallen from the top of a pole.
W
CHAPTER IV.

HATEVER might have been the monotony
of the life of the editor of a provincial
journal in the mere discharge of his office
duties, I could always find an ever-chang-
ing interest in the necessity for seeing many things
with my own eyes; in making personal inquiries in
distant places as to the correctness of reputed occur-
rences—in fact, in being my own reporter. Much of
my time was spent on horseback. My ordinary
costume was knee-breeches and top-boots. My
varied out-door life was as healthful as it was
instructive. In these local operations the brain was
not heavily taxed. Education was going on. Some
exercise of the intellect was essential to report the
speeches at a public meeting. The facts exhibited
at a coroner's inquest might be best dispatched in
that brief style which was once considered sufficient
for the London newspaper, but which is now dis-
placed by the most wonderful accumulation of "horror
on horror's head." Sometimes, however, the country
newspaper might attempt to be graphic when it had
to record occurrences of an unusual nature; and yet
the absolute limitation of space would often compel
me to throw away the kernel of the picturesque to
give my readers the hard shell of the literal.
On the 4th of July, 1816, I rode out to Maiden-
head Thicket to behold a remarkable proof of the
M 2
180
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IV.
alleged want of employment in the mining and
manufacturing districts. On the road from Henley
there was the halt of a cavalcade-not such as the
poet and the novelist have so often described as the
halt of jovial pilgrims taking their morning meal in
the beechen shade; but of a party of grim colliers
clustered round a waggon laden with coals, which
they had drawn for many miles, and whose further
progress was interrupted at the mandate of a Bow-
street magistrate. From Bilston Moor-where the
furnaces of many iron-works no longer darkened the
air with their smoke, and the windlass of many a pit
was now idle-forty-one men, having a leader on
horseback, had the day before passed through Oxford,
dragging the waggon in solemn silence, asking no
alms, but bearing a placard, on which was inscribed,
"Willing to work, but none of us will beg." Their
intention, as well as that of another party march-
ing on the St. Alban's Road, was to proceed to
London, in the belief that the Prince Regent
could order them employment. At Maidenhead the
military were prepared for some dire conflict with
want and desperation. But Sir Richard Birnie very
wisely went forward with two police-officers, finally
persuading these men to let their coals be taken into
Maidenhead, and to receive a handsome present
which would enable them to return to their homes.
They were punctilious in refusing to sell their coals.
The march of the blanketeers of Manchester in the
next year was not so quietly prevented.
There never was a problem more difficult of solu-
tion, even by the soundest political economists of the
time, than that of the condition of the labouring
classes in 1816 and 1817. When I look back on
Ch. IV.]
181
THE FIRST EPOCH.
what I wrote on this overwhelming subject in the
last four years of the reign of George the Third, I
behold a succession of fallacies and half-truths pro-
pounded with a sincere belief and with a benevolent
earnestness. I was groping my way, in common with
most public writers, in the thick darkness by which we
were surrounded. The text upon which I commonly
preached was from Southey-not the Southey de-
nounced by the "Anti-Jacobin" of 1797, but the
Southey of 1817, who denounced Byron and the
"Satanic School." The text was not in any great
degree an exaggerated description of the condition of
England. "We are arrived at that state in which the
extremes of inequality are become intolerable." The
fallacies and half-truths of the usual comment upon
this doctrine sprang from a narrow and one-sided
view of the causes of these extremes.
I maintained, not without reason, that the existence
of some radical disease in the condition of the labour-
ing classes had been long indicated by the progressive
increase of the Poor Rates. I held that the prodigious
increase in the demands of pauperism, from the
million and a half sterling in 1776, to the eight
millions in 1815, was the consequence of some system
which, as it had multiplied the temporary sources of
profitable labour, had a natural tendency to multiply
population, without providing for the regular support
of the human beings which it called forth. I averred
that the mechanical improvements of the forty years
constituted that system. The war, which produced
a comparative monopoly of commerce, gave birth to a
new machinery to supply that monopoly. The manu-
facturing system made no provision for that inevitable
period when the trading intercourse of the world
182
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IV.
would return to its accustomed channels, and man-
kind would be free to use the same instruments of
commercial advantage that we had employed. The
system had called into action half a million of human
beings whom it had now unavoidably abandoned.
The State must therefore supply the means of life,
which the ordinary modes of employment could no
longer give.
I had never seen the practical working of the
manufacturing system, and thus I talked, as it was
the fashion to talk when Southey wrote, "The nation
that builds upon manufactures sleeps upon gun-
powder." But I was perfectly familiar with the
condition of the agricultural districts. I held, truly,
that the organization of society in Great Britian had
been completely changed by the system of inclosures
and agricultural improvements. These were forced
on by the increased demand for corn, originating in
the extraordinary consumption and waste of war, and
in the increased wants of an increased manufactur-
ing population. I wept over the diminution of the
labour which was once required by imperfect modes
of cultivation. I grieved over the extinguishing of
those indirect means of support which supplied the
primitive wants of the ancient peasantry. I missed
the old commons on which I used to ramble in my
boyhood. I saw no longer the half-starved cow
of the cottager tethered before the broken-down
hedge of his slovenly garden, and the pig lying on
the dunghill that blocked up the dirty approach to
his ruinous hovel. The additional patch of garden-
ground that was allotted to him seemed to me but a
poor compensation for the heath where he once might
freely cut the turf for his fire. I grieved the grief of
Ch. IV.]
183
THE FIRST EPOCH.
ignorance when I quoted the population returns of
1811, to prove that while two or three millions of
additional mouths had been maintained from the
land, some thousands less had been maintained upon
the land. The interests of the consumers appeared
to me small in comparison with those of the pro-
ducers. Had I looked more deeply into the matter,
I might have mourned over a greater evil than the
destruction of the semi-barbarous independence of
the squatters who had regarded the heaths and
commons as their proper and peculiar inheritance.
I might have reasonably mourned that the Agricul-
tural Labourers were slaves to the Poor Laws--
brought into the world as paupers by the improvi-
dent encouragement to early marriages under the
allowance-system; kept through life as paupers by
receiving as alms what they had fairly earned as
wages; deprived of profitable employment, and
hunted from parish to parish, by the laws of Settle-
ment; punished with the most unrelenting severity
if they should knock down a rabbit. I might at
that time have protested against the bulk of the
population being kept in the most degrading igno-
rance, by the dread which then very generally pre-
vailed in rural districts, that to educate the labourer
was to unfit him for the duties (they might have said
the degradations) of “that state of life into which it
had pleased God to call him "--the formula of conso-
lation always addressed to the poor for the repression
of any impious desire to better their condition.
Looking at the whole structure of my mind at that
period-its disposition to see chiefly the sentimental
side of most public questions-to seek for the pictu-
resque in the scenes around me rather than grapple
184
[Ch. IV.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
with their realities of life-I am not sure that I did
not regard the inclosure system as a sort of private
and personal wrong. I find these lines of mine printed
in my newspaper at the end of 1819:-
"Year after year the quiet face has chang'd
Of my loved walks; they are as friends estrang'd.
The close lanes where the fearless blackbird sung
In the thick bush to which the rent wool clung;
The leafy nooks where the first violet blush'd ;
The plashy dell where the hid fountain gush'd;
The clumps of elm that caught the lingering light;
The broad fresh meads with cup and daisy bright ;
The stubbled path where leapt the frighten'd hare;
The level green, at evening O how fair!
For me are gone or spoil'd-joy there is none
In pent-up roads that whiten in the sun,
And frowning walls that hide the distant hills,
And trim square fields where the tired fancy chills.
O! whilst the levelling hand but left me these,
To watch the streaky west with heart at ease,
I envied not the sons of mighty lakes,
And mountains hoar, where loftier music wakes,
Where the loud wind puts forth a voice of wrath,
And there are solemn thrills in every path.
Mine were the haunts of mute and musing peace.
Ah! dreamt I not that soon these joys would cease;
When Loveliness should flee the cultur'd plain,
And dull Utility usurp her reign.”
The experience of all men, whether in the South
or the North, was sufficient to show that a superfluous
population was now pressing upon the capital devoted
to the maintenance of labour. But, in that time of
bold and impudent assertion, there were believers even
in Cobbett when he said "I am quite convinced that
the population, upon the whole, has not increased,
in England, one single soul since I was born." Still
less would many doubt the truth of his description
of the Labourers' Paradise in the days "before they
Ch. IV.]
185
THE FIRST EPOCH.
were stripped of the commons, of their kettles, their
bedding, their beer-barrels." Then, as every "swink'd
hedger at his supper sat," we are to believe that he
rejoiced in the prospect of unlimited rashers from
the flitches in his bacon-rack. Alas! that age of
gold must have had a brief term. It did not exist
in the days of Arthur Young. There was a glimpse
of it when the Southern labourer became too dainty
to relish the coarse brown bread of his forefathers,
saying that he "had lost his rye-teeth;" and when
the "Farmer's Boy" complained of the stony cheese,
too hard to bite." It would be difficult to fix the
exact date of the "good times" of the man who
believed that England had been decaying for three
centuries as regarded the number of her people and
their means of subsistence. The believers in Cob-
bett's wild assertions were the wholly ignorant or
the half-instructed; and they believed in him the
more when he paraded his contempt of "those frivo-
lous idiots that are turned out from Winchester or
Westminster School, or from any of those dens of
dunces called Colleges and Universities." Such was
the taking style of the rampant days of democratic
journalism. The direction has changed of that form
of vulgarity which revels in class prejudices and
hatreds. No man now can be called “educated”
who has not drunk of that Castalian fountain that
nourishes the Isis and the Cam. Having sipped
ever so little of this golden water, the privileged
few are fully qualified to become, as indeed they are,
"the only knowing men of Europe,
Great general scholars, excellent physicians,
Most admired statesmen, profess'd favourites,
And cabinet-counsellors to the greatest princes,
The only languaged men of all the world."-JONSON.
186
[Ch. IV.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
Cobbett, half knave and half enthusiast, knew
perfectly well that the primitive organisation of Eng-
lish social life had long passed away; and yet, after
describing that he had seen a woman near Petworth
"bleaching her home-spun and home-woven linen,"
he deduces this moral: "The Lords of the Loom
have taken from the land in this part of England
this part of its due; and hence one cause of the
poverty, misery, and pauperism that are becoming
so frightful throughout the country." Such were his
sober views when he was writing his "Rural Rides "
in 1823-a book which, in spite of its monstrous exag-
gerations, is one of the most interesting pictures of
Agricultural England which those times have left us.
But in the year 1818 he appears to have gone crazy
on the subject of "Paper Currency." He has a
scheme for overturning the Government with a legion
of Jew boys; and means to take the Bank by storm
with the artillery of printer's ink and tissue-paper.
He proposes to make every sound reformer a handi-
craftsman in the manufacture of forged Bills of Ex-
change; and calls upon every unfortunate adventurer
in this dangerous traffic to dignify himself by an
association with the radical reformers. Mr. Cobbett's
very original plan may be given in his own words.
Graving tools, price five shillings," must be procured;
a printing apparatus, that a man may keep in a
cubic foot of space, and some paper." Ben Jonson's
"Press in a Hollow Tree" was a complex affair com-
pared with this simple apparatus of Revolution. But
the engraving? There is no difficulty. "If it were
possible to suppose that there is not a single man
amongst all the engravers in England who wishes to
see an end of the present state of things, any man
Ch. IV.]
187
THE FIRST EPOCH.
may become an engraver of a Bank Note in a month.”
The patriots are now to produce as many notes of the
Bank of England as will represent a million of pounds
sterling. What is to be done with them? These
instruments of national blessing are not to be used
for mercenary purposes, in defrauding a tradesman
out of his goods. They are to be dropped, " by men
who can trust each other," in the streets of London
and in the great towns one dark night. They will
be picked up in the morning, "some in twists, others
in little cheap pocket-books, others in bits of paper—
all found. Nothing, the country-folks used to say,
is freer than a foundal." The notes would be quickly
passed; the runners and blood-money men would be
instantly put in motion. But nothing could be done
for punishment. The word found would stop all
legal proceedings. The circulators of the notes could
prove their innocence. The blessed consequences of
this hopeful scheme are thus joyously stated by the
arch-demagogue: "All money transactions would be
at a stand. No buying, no selling. A bank-note
would be rejected as something beneath contempt;
and the richest men, in ready money, would be those
who happened to have a bit of gold, silver, or copper
coin. Three hundred thousand families of fund-
holders would be penniless in an hour and starving
in a week." The "friend of humanity" is for carry-
ing on his work of benevolence upon a large scale.
As a burlesque of Cobbett's ordinary style—its solemn
dogmas, its minute details, its confidential disclosures,
its unequalled impudence-this article was worthy of
the authors of the "Rejected Addresses." But the
scheme was propounded in sober earnest; in the
confident belief, in which many partook, that the
188
[Ch. IV.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
whole system of paper-credit, funds, national debt,
and taxes, would tumble down in one great sweeping
bankruptcy, and leave the world free for all to
scramble for its natural riches upon equal terms.
Of the extravagant violence of the Radical Press
it may be considered that Cobbett was an exceptional
instance. But there were others as coarse, but far
less clever; and thus he was infinitely more dan-
gerous than the whole body of the other violent and
unscrupulous writers who were operating upon the
passions of the humbler classes. The "Register," in
November, 1816, became a Twopenny publication.
It was soon equally to be found in the mechanics'
club-room of the North and in the village ale-house
of the South. Gaping rustics would eagerly listen
to some youngster who had learnt to read since the
days of Bell and Lancaster, as he poured forth the
racy English, in which there were no fine words or
inverted sentences. At this juncture-and probably
with an especial regard to these Readings of Village
Politicians-the Public House (those were the days
before Beer-shops) became an object of dread to
many who thought, in a fashion not quite obsolete,
that direct repression was the only way of dealing
with every seductive influence upon the morals of
the common people. A "Hertfordshire Clergyman
addresses Lord Sidmouth in "The Times," complain-
ing that for the public house the parish church is
deserted; that the few poor who come there have
their senses so besotted with drink, and their minds
so poisoned with prejudice and ribaldry, that the
clerical function is becoming useless. His proposed
remedy for the evil is, to shut up the public houses
at nine o'clock in the summer and seven in the
Ch. IV.]
189
THE FIRST EPOCH.
winter. Imagine the agricultural labourer, thus im-
prisoned in his uncomfortable cottage, at an earlier
hour of a November night than that of the Norman
curfew; his scanty wages almost forbidding the
household luxury of a candle; with no society except
that of the peevish household drudge his wife, and
their dirty and noisy children; utterly without
amusement; having no mechanical aptitude, like
the Swiss peasant, to carve a toy; unable to read, as
nine-tenths of the adult rural population were then
unable. There were sagacious men living in a thinly
populated district of Berkshire and Buckinghamshire,
who thought that the cottager ought not to be con-
demned after his day's labour to the silence and
solitude of the prison-cell. In the account of an
"Institution for teaching Adults to Read, established
in the contiguous parts of Berks and Bucks in 1814"
—an octavo volume which was printed and published
at the office of the Windsor paper-there is this
passage: "Suppose a traveller, unapprized of the
existence of such an institution, to be passing through
any part of our district on a dark winter's night, and
to perceive an unusual degree of light beaming from
a cottage-window, would he not conclude that those
within were either carousing, and as the regular
consequence, intoxicating themselves, or that the
persons assembled were so for the purpose of listen-
ing to some of the numerous fanatics who hold
nightly meetings in whatever cottages will receive
them? How would he be surprised, and, if alive to
right moral and religious feelings, gratified likewise,
to find, on entering the cottage, a number of persons
of all ages from ten upwards, quietly seated round a
table, and engaged in reading or learning to read the
190
[Ch. IV.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
Scriptures; and if at the same time he were informed
that the like instruction was going on in upwards of
fifty places of the same moderately-sized district,
could he doubt for an instant whether the conti-
nuance of such an institution could fail of producing
a most salutary and beneficial effect on the minds
and habits of those instructed?" The writer of this
volume was the Rev. Charles Goddard (afterwards
Archdeacon of Lincoln). His parish of Hitcham was in
the beautiful but then wild district in the neighbour-
hood of Dropmore. He was a man of great ability
-the friend of Lord Grenville, who took a leading
part in the organization of this Adult Institution
Many were the cottages around Burnham Com-
mon; but thither the traveller then rarely went in
search of the now famous " "Beeches," that had
attracted little notice since the time when Gray read
his Virgil at the foot of one of these most venerable
stunted giants. Stoke was then a true country
village. Onward the wayfarer might go, through
roads then recently made, to that beautiful table-
land which ends at Hedsor, and yet he would not
reach the extreme limits of this Adult Institution.
Marlow, with the crowning woods of Bisham, Shottes-
brook, Cookham, Bray, were within its area.
attempt to bring instruction home to the elder pea-
santry was a more arduous undertaking than that
of Dr. Birkbeck, seven years afterwards, to establish
a "Mechanics' Institute" in London. Necessarily
the rural institution made little noise; its uses had
become obsolete after the great extension of schools
for general education. I doubt whether it is noticed
in the Education Annals of a time when earnest men
were beginning to think that there was little safety
This
Ch. IV.]
191
THE FIRST EPOCH.
in popular ignorance. But that it bore its fruits I
may well believe; although the sciences were not
taught in those cottage assemblies, as I might judge
from the discourse of an ancient shepherd in Burn-
ham Beeches some twenty-five years ago, who told
me that these trees were as old-aye, as old as the
world."
Whatever might be my heresies as to the best
modes of bettering the condition of the Poor, I never
had any doubt of the advantages of educating them.
It was not often that I came into contact with men
who were capable of uniting strong benevolent im-
pulses with the broad view of the consequences of
making the pauper more comfortable than the inde-
pendent labourer. A sort of instinctive horror of the
Malthusian doctrine was at the bottom of the thoughts
of many sensible persons, who, in spite of their own
convictions, were for the most liberal parish allow-
ances according to the number of children in a family,
and for the best dietary within the Workhouse walls.
Such were, to some extent, the convictions of one of
the shrewdest and most warm-hearted of self-taught
men with whom it was ever my happiness to become
acquainted. Mr. Ingalton had a flourishing business
as a shoemaker at Eton. His son, a young artist of
great promise, was for some years the most intimate
companion of my leisure; and he is one of the few
whom time has spared to show me how justly I
esteemed him. In his painting-room I have had
many a friendly argument with his intelligent father.
There was another occasional visitor of that painting-
room, who was ready to discuss controverted subjects
of social economy, with a perfect theoretical know-
ledge, but with the practical earnestness of a Christian
192
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IV.
love for his fellow-creatures. Often have I listened
with real delight to an instructive dialogue between
the refined scholar and the thoughtful tradesman,
who was not wanting in book-knowledge but was
stronger in his mother-wit. I see his stately figure
in his working garb-fresh from the "cutting out"
of his back-shop—standing side by side with the tall
and thin clergyman before his son's easel, and dis-
coursing, with no ordinary knowledge of the prin-
ciples of Art, upon the composition of the "Cottage
Interior" or the "Village Concert." The characters
of the English scenes which his son painted, in the
days of Wilkie, were studies from life; and thus the
transition of talk was natural enough from the picture
to the reality. The accomplished divine, who was
not unfamiliar with many an abode of poverty, was
a patient listener to every plea for tenderness to the
improvident, and of compassion for the ignorant fol-
lowers of things evil. But he believed in more en-
during helps than casual charity. A few years before,
he had proclaimed the great principle, that "the only
true secret of assisting the poor is to make them agents
in bettering their own condition, and to supply them,
not with a temporary stimulus, but with a permanent
energy
Many avenues to an improved con-
dition are open to one whose faculties are enlarged
and exercised; he sees his own interest more clearly,
he pursues it more steadily, and he does not study
immediate gratification at the expense of bitter and
late repentance, or mortgage the labour of his future
life without an adequate return." * A year or two
later, I had a more intimate knowledge of this
admirable expositor of principles which have even-
* "Records of Creation," 1816.
•
Ch. IV.]
193
THE FIRST EFOCH.
tually triumphed over the fears of the rich and the
doubts of the learned. But in yielding up some
prejudices to the gentle persuasiveness of the Fellow
of Eton-who, by his recent sermons in the College
Chapel had produced a marked effect in the moral
conduct of five hundred youths-I could scarcely
then have believed that I was receiving lessons of
practical wisdom from a future Archbishop of Can-
terbury, when I was an earnest listener to John Bird
Sumner.
At the Lady Day of 1818 I was placed in a position
to acquire a somewhat enlarged experience of the
working of the Poor Laws. My father, as Chief
Magistrate, nominated me one of the Overseers of
the Parish of Windsor. He wished me to become
familiar with public business; and although the
appointment was not much to my taste I soon came
to acknowledge that he was right. I could scarcely
have foreseen the benefit that such experience, how-
ever limited, would be to me in my future profes-
sional pursuits. As there is no man from whom
something may not be learnt, even in standing with
him under a gateway in a shower of rain, so there is
no public office, however little elevated above that of
the Constable, and far below the grandeur of the
Justice of the Peace, from which he who sets about
the performance of its duties in a right spirit may
not acquire some practical wisdom to fit him for a
higher sphere of action. In attempting to describe
the Experiences of an Overseer, I look back upon a
state of things which has almost wholly past away in
the great social changes of four decades.
A Parish Vestry is held to pass the Overseers'
accounts of the previous year. There is a vast deal
VOL. 1.
N
194
[Ch. IV.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
of wrangling, but especially about sundry small items
in the entries of one Overseer, who is considered to
have been excessively lavish of the public money in
a very unprofitable direction. He has been extremely
particular in his records of the sums paid to tramps.
Sometimes, fourpence or sixpence is, "by direction
of the magistrate," given to one who is travelling
with "a pass," which document the magistrate signs.
Oftener, a sixpence, or a shilling even, is wrung from
the tender-hearted Overseer, for the relief of an
Irishman and his wife, or a poor sailor, or a distressed
mechanic, who have each told their sorrowful tale at
his door. A rigid vestry-orator would enforce the
letter of the penal statutes against vagabondage, and
asks what is the use of having a notice up at all the
entrances of the town, to the effect that all beggars
and vagrants will be taken up and punished accord-
ing to law? He is answered, by being told that the
punishment is seven days' confinement in the com-
mon prison, when the vagrant is to be duly conveyed
to his or her parish; and that the laws made for
another state of society are impossible of execution,
even if the whipping-post and the stocks could be
revived in their ancient terrors. So the lavish Over-
seer has his triumph. If another succeeds him who
is less impressible, I see the Mayor's door besieged
by a clamorous host, from whom there is no escape
till every one has obtained an order upon the lesser
functionary. Then the filthy common lodging-house,
unregulated by any sanitary laws, receives into its
bosom the healthy and the diseased, the decent and
the shameless, the innocent wife travelling to seek
the husband who has found work in a distant place,
and the brazen harlot swilling gin with her ragged
Ch. IV.]
195
THE FIRST EPOCH.
paramour. They leave behind them, as they move
forward to another scene of miscalled relief for their
real or simulated wants, a terrible benediction of
small-pox and typhus. Some die in the dens of filth
where they had congregated at night-fall, and the
parish has to bury them. It was in vain that I
recommended the establishment of proper lodging-
houses in all large towns, alleging that the aggregate
cost would be less than what the Overseer must dis-
tribute to these wanderers, and would do something to
prevent the mixture of the worthy with the unworthy.*
The time was far distant when the Legislature would
descend from its dignity of party-warfare, to bestow
a thought upon "the dangerous classes." The
beadle's "move on was deemed all-sufficient for
the cure of mendicity.
""
My initiation into the mysteries of parochial ma-
nagement was not calculated to enlarge my reverence
for the sagacity of uncontrolled local administration.
There was a Parish Committee of experts, who exer-
cised a sort of legislative power over the Executive
of Overseers. The President of this Congress was
the permanent Assistant-Overseer. It assembles
weekly in the Board-Room of the Workhouse. Our
first duty is financial. We that had been outsiders
know only that the rates are very heavy. But there
are secrets in which we are now to participate.
Parish is considerably in debt. We call for a list of
the debts, which, after some hesitation, is produced.
One item is astounding-four hundred pounds odd
due to the keeper of a Lunatic Asylum at Bethnal
Green, for the care of a madman chargeable to
* "Windsor Express," January 24, 1818.
N 2
The
196
[Ch. IV.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
Windsor. The explanation is, that this amount has
been accumulating for some years-that every new
Overseer ventures upon some inquiry as to the
nature of the debt-that it will never do to go to
the General Vestry about the matter-that the only
way to make things pleasant is to pay another fifty
pounds on account. But who is this Pauper Lu-
natic? How came he to be sent to Mr. Warburton's
establishment? What is his present condition? No
one can tell-not even the all-wise Assistant-Over-
seer. One or two of us are resolute for inquiry.
The head constable of the borough-a permanent
officer-is sent for. Yes, he can explain. Ten years
ago, when the Mayor, and Justices, and Recorder, were
sitting in Quarter Session, "a dangerous lunatic"
was arrested by the Bow Street officer who attended
at the Castle. No one knew this man, who said he
wanted to petition the King when his Majesty
came home from his ride; and he was very inso-
lent and threatening when ordered to go away.
Committed to beadle-custody, the culprit was brought
at once before the furred gowns happily assem-
bled; and, giving very incoherent answers, was
ordered to be taken to a Lunatic Asylum. The very
thought of another Hatfield demanded strong mea-
sures. Asylums for Pauper Lunatics there were none
in those days. Private asylums, under very loose regu-
lation, were abundant. My offer to see the dangerous
man who had been so costly to our parish was ac-
cepted, but not very cordially. With some difficulty
I found my way to the obscure region of Bethnal
Green; knocked at the private door of a substantial
house, which was opened by a civil man-servant; and
was introduced to the manager of this establishment.
Ch. IV.]
197
THE FIRST EPOCH.
When I announced that I had come, with proper
authority, to see Thomas there was some hesi-
tation. I was pressing, and my demand could not
be evaded. The bell was rung, and was answered by
the civil man-servant. That sleek and obliging per-
son was the dangerous lunatic. I procured the
address of friends who occasionally came to see
him, and in a fortnight, having obtained a vote
for the discharge of the "little bill," handed over
the sane man to the not very affectionate pro-
tection of his brother, a thriving shopkeeper in the
borough of Southwark.
The Bethnal Green affair was an exceptional in-
stance of lavish expenditure. The ordinary throwing
away of large sums was upon Settlement cases. We
had a grand battle, in my time, with the distant
parish of Macclesfield. The year before, a mechanic,
with a wife and family, came from the north to
settle at Windsor. He brought a letter from the
Overseer of Macclesfield, requesting the parish offi-
cers of Windsor to expend One Pound for his relief.
This profligate father of a family required a shilling
a week, which was duly paid till the one pound was
expended--he required it for tobacco. His wife
said that he was a good, sober workman, but that it
was his habit to chew tobacco, and that he could not
do without it. The shilling was denied, without any
further communication with Macclesfield. The man
was obstinate, took a tenement at a weekly rental of
four shillings and sixpence, and after a year had
expired demanded the shilling as out-door relief upon
his new Windsor settlement. The war-trumpet was
sounded. The order of removal to Macclesfield was
signed. Away went the man, wife, and six children,
198
-
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IV.
for a ride of two hundred miles, on the outside of a
coach, in charge of the Overseer "in pay," nothing
loth, who delivered them safely at Macclesfield.
But Macclesfield shrunk from so heavy a burden;
and having no work to give the pauper who had
found employ at Windsor, became Appellants against
the Order of Removal. Then, attorneys, attorneys'
clerks, surveyors, surveyors' clerks, overseers, and a
host of unprofessional witnesses, had to journey in
post-chaises, and to feast four days at Abingdon,
before the mighty cause came on. The question was
supposed to hang upon the real value of the four-and-
sixpenny tenement. Legal subtlety evaded this,
contending that the Apprenticeship Settlement at
Macclesfield was void, for that the pauper had been
first bound to a master at Leake, and had been
turned over to a master at Macclesfield, by endorse-
ment upon the original indenture without having a
separate legal stamp. The Justices of Berkshire
could not determine this knotty point, and it was
referred to the Court of King's Bench. Solemnly
was this great issue tried, with the most eminent
counsel on either side. It was decided that the
Order of Removal must be quashed. Macclesfield
brought back the family to Windsor. The war party
was for trying the question again with Leake. But a
prudential view of the heavy amount of the costs
prevailed in our Congress. If we had been a
"Tobacco Parliament," such as Carlyle has so well
described, we might have sympathised with the
imperative needs of the obstinate settler, who had
cost us three or four hundred pounds. The quid-
question was a sample of many a legal battle amongst
the fourteen thousand five hundred parishes of this.
Ch. IV.]
199
THE FIRST EPOCH.
kingdom, where justice was to be had by all who
could pay for it.
(6
I was accustomed, in our Committee sittings, con-
stantly to listen to the ignorant babble about making
"character" the leading principle of relief. The paid
Assistant-Overseer was always the ready evidence as
to character. With him squalid filth was the test of
destitution, and whining gratitude, as it was called,
for the alms distributed was the test of character.
There was an entry in our parish books, in which a
poor woman, deserted by her husband, and left to
maintain her family, was described as Madam
Todd." The amount of her weekly relief was very
small, and she had, on occasions of sickness, to ask
for an additional trifle. When she came to the Com-
mittee, the Assistant-Overseer, in his harsh Scotch
accent, always addressed her with his curled lip as
"Madam Todd." When I first heard this, I saw a
woman of some education quail before the well-known
sounds; and when she retired, after some other im-
pertinence, I asked the reason of this treatment.
"Madam Todd is too proud for us-proud b-" was
the answer. My wife and I sought out Madam Todd.
We found a woman of a lofty spirit not yet broken
by degradation, of sincere piety, and possessing an
anxious desire to bring up her children without
parish support, if possible. Her husband was an
irreclaimable brute, with whom no decent woman
could live. She found other friends; she obtained
from them that real assistance in a judicious encou-
ragement of her independent industry, which paro-
chial "praise of them that do well" and parochial
"punishment of them that do evil," would have
denied to her. She maintained her "character
"
200
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IV.
through a long life-"proud" to the end-but with
the honest pride of self-respect.
After a few months' experience of paupers and
pauperism, I ventured upon a startling proposal to
my brother officers-that we should visit the Out-
Poor in their own homes. Never had such an inno-
vation been heard of. Even the Assistant-Overseer
knew nothing of the real condition of the hundred-
and-fifty recipients of weekly relief. I am afraid
that Vicar and Curate knew as little. The duty of
the parish priest was then considered to be fulfilled,
when he preached to the poor-when he baptized
them, married them, buried them. The duty of
visiting them is a modern institution. Some of our
local administrators held that there was personal
danger in the proposed work of supererogation.
Small-pox and scarlet-fever were in many houses.
Small-pox was ever in our courts and alleys and
scattered cottages. The people were unwilling that
their children should be vaccinated. When the
medical man refused to inoculate them, there was
no lack of clever old women who transmitted the
variolous poison from family to family with a needle
and a worsted thread. I contended that for this
cause alone we ought to go amongst these ignorant
recipients of our alms, and exhort them to cease from
murdering their children. We did make our domi-
ciliary visits. We were not always welcome; and I
fear our moral lessons made little impression. We
discovered some imposture, and we saw some real
miseries of which we had not been quite aware. The
great source of suffering was the want of profitable
employment, and for this want we had no remedy
but the old one of the parish gravel-pit. The Sur-
Ch. IV.]
201
THE FIRST EPOCH.
veyors of the Roads entered into partnership with us
in giving paupers work in mending our highways.
These officers were appointed annually, and were
consequently as ignorant of the principles upon
which good roads should be made, as we were of the
relations of Capital and Labour when we set up flax-
machinery in our Workhouse. Various had been the
devices of previous local administrators for making
commodities for which there was no natural demand,
in the rooms where our old crones sat blinking over
the winter's fire, and our young children crawled and
fought. The art of cutting pegs for beer-barrels was
considered worthy of trial; but the brewers had their
regular market for an article so easy of production.
Shoemakers' pegs were more easily made than sold.
In an unlucky hour a benevolent lady persuaded the
Queen to try a machine for crushing flax by hand-
labour, which flax when crushed was to be disposed
of to the regular manufacturer. Where the pur-
chaser was to be found we did not know; but, with
the royal example before us, we bought four ma-
chines, which the patentees taught the men and boys
to work. There was a good deal of bustle in the
Workhouse; and when I went out of office there
was a large store of bruised flax in the lumber-rooms.
We got rather sick of the process, when the machine
had cut off a poor boy's finger, and we had an orphan
upon our hands who was now incapacitated for learn-
ing any mechanical trade.
*
In spite of occasional accident and constant disease,
our supply of pauper-children never failed. We kept
it up by the time-honoured process of compelling
young persons to marry, under the laws which made
the marriage bond a temptation to vice, and which
202
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IV.
brought a life-long penalty of want and degradation
to the unfortunates who were thus punished far
beyond their sins.
The ordinary duties of an Overseer presented little
variety, and no very pleasurable excitement. There
was one occasion, however, in which I threw myself
with the ardour of a Detective into the possible glory
of hunting down and bringing to justice a desperate
offender against the laws of humanity. In Septem-
ber, 1817, early in the morning, a young woman was
found lying down on the step of my father's door
She had come thither to seek for succour, if not for
justice, under a terrible calamity. She had been
married at Clewer Church in the previous Decem-
ber; had been left pregnant by her husband; and
had crawled to the town to ask for some aid. There
was no time to be lost. I had her conveyed in a
sedan to the Workhouse, where she gave birth to a
child. A rumour had gone forth that her reputed
husband, William Griffin, straw-hat maker, had been
married before. The doubt as to the legitimacy, and
the consequent future support of the infant, was the
parochial question. My feelings were engaged in the
desire to bring the inhuman offender to justice. I
obtained clue after clue to his former life. I traced
him to Whichwood Forest, in Oxfordshire.
In a
village on a wild common, not far removed from
Bibury race-course, then famous in the records of the
turf, I found a middle-aged woman named Smith,
the deserted real wife of the same man, according to
her description, as William Griffin the straw-hat
maker. The parish in which she lived was Burford.
I took her before a magistrate, who entered very
heartily into the inquiry, and we obtained from this
Ch. IV.]
203
THE FIRST EPOCH.
wife a very conclusive affidavit. I had one other
inquiry to make: where did Lord Falkland live in
this same parish of Burford? The memory of a
great man had lasted more than a century and a
half in his once dwelling-place. I gazed upon the
reputed house where the young statesman secluded
himself from the world, to learn a higher philosophy
than he could have attained in courts. In these soli-
tary scenes he unfitted himself for partizanship, and
reached that nobler cast of thought which has made
Lucius Cary the most interesting personage in Claren-
don's Portrait Gallery. Through dreadful roads I
reached Wantage, to see the birth-place of Alfred,
and the Vale of the White Horse, for the first time.
The deserted wife of Whichwood Forest had given me
another clue to her husband's iniquity. In a parish
near West Wycombe I found the victim of a second
marriage. The offender in this case called himself
Scriven, but unquestionably he also was the straw-
hat maker. The third victim was Jane Sumner,
who had fainted in our streets, the daughter of decent
parents at Clewer. Our indefatigable Head-Constable
arrested Griffin, alias Smith, alias Scriven, who
was indicted for polygamy; and the good-tempered
fat official managed to get the three much-abused
women together at the Abingdon Summer Assizes.
Garrow was the judge-courteous in presenting his
bouquets to the ladies who sat by his side on the
bench; eloquent in his addresses to the guilty; weep-
ing, as I saw that most terrible of cross-examiners
weep, when he sentenced two gipsies to death for
burglary. I really was not then quite aware of the
existence in 1818 of the ancient plea for the benefit
of clergy. The bigamist, having been quickly found
204
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IV.
guilty upon the first indictment, was adjudged twelve
months' imprisonment. He was convicted by the
clearest testimony upon the second indictment.
Then the Crier of the Court called out to the con-
vict, "Kneel down and pray your Clergy." The
judge, in tones of deep solemnity, next talked of
that merciful law which interposed between his
deserved punishment of being hanged. I had almost
expected that the wretched man would have been
called upon to repeat the "neck-verse," which was
once the touchstone of a literate. He was trans-
ported for seven years. Late in the afternoon, the
excellent constable, who had been the protector of
the three ladies, came to tell me that they were a
little cross and jealous before the trial; but that
they were then happily together at tea, rejoicing
that they had all got rid of such a villain.
CHAPTER V.

T this period, when I was working energe-
tically at parish affairs in addition to my
ordinary business, I was equally busied
with literary schemes. The practical and
the ideal had possession of my mind at one and the
same time, and had no contention for superiority. I
may truly say—and I say it for the encouragement
of any young man who is sighing over the fetters of
his daily labour, and pining for weeks and months of
uninterrupted study-that I have found through life
that the acquisition of knowledge, and a regular
course of literary employment, are far from being
incompatible with commercial pursuits. I doubt
whether, if I had been all author or all publisher, I
should have succeeded better in either capacity. It
is true that these my occupations were homogeneous;
but I question whether that condition is necessary in
any case-in a lawyer's, for example-where there is
sufficient elasticity of mind to turn readily out of
the main line to the loop-line (how could I have
expressed this in the days before Stephenson ?), and
sufficient steadiness of purpose to return to it. In
my time of humble journalism at Windsor, I was
constantly devising some magnificent scheme of books
that I thought the world wanted; in which opinion,
it is most probable, I should have found no encou-
rager in the cautious experience of "The Row" or
206
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
in the venturous liberality of Albemarle Street.
One small project I carried out myself without com-
mercial aid.
Keats has described his acquaintance with our
grand old poets:
“Oft had I travell'd in the realms of gold."
Now and then I came across a volume which I could
take up again and again, even whilst Byron was sti-
mulating me with his "Corsair" and his "Giaour,"
and whilst Wordsworth was awakening a more pro-
found sense of the higher objects of poetry. Such
a volume was Shakspere's "Sonnets," rarely pub-
lished with the Plays, and known only to a few
enthusiasts who did not believe, with Steevens,
that they were sentimental rubbish. Such was
"England's Parnassus," which I borrowed, and longed
to appropriate. No publisher had then thought it
worth while to reprint Drayton, or Wither, or
Herrick, or Herbert. The delight which Keats
expressed in his noble Sonnet upon the discovery of
Chapman's "Homer" was mine, when I first lighted
upon Fairfax's "Tasso." I had entered a new realm
of gold. To me that small folio-the first edition,
revised by Fairfax himself-was a precious treasure.
There had been no edition of the book for seventy
years. Resolved that I would achieve the honour of
reprinting it, I issued an Advertisement, in October,
1817, in which I said, "Dr. Johnson, with somewhat
of his characteristic temerity, ventured to predict
that the 'Tasso' of Fairfax would never be reprinted.
If the national taste in poetry had not mended since
the days of that critic, his prophetic flattery of Hoole
would not yet have been disproved." The produc-
Ch. V.]
207
THE FIRST EPOCH.
tion of two small volumes at our Windsor Press of
the exquisite translation that had been forgotten
since Collins had rejoiced to hear Tasso's harp "by
English Fairfax strung," was received by a few critics
as creditable to the taste of a country printer. The
editing of this volume was a pleasant occupation to
me. I prefixed to it a Life of Tasso, and a Life of
Fairfax. In that of Fairfax I inserted an Eclogue
which was first printed in Mrs. Cooper's "Muses'
Library"-a volume which had become scarce, and
which I found at the London Institution. Mr.
Upcott was then the librarian in the new building,
which, in its handsome elevation and its judicious
interior arrangements, did credit to the architect,
then a young man-Mr. William Brooks, the father
of Mr. Shirley Brooks. My reprint appeared a little
before that of Mr. Singer; or probably I might have
shrunk from the competition.
Every now and then, however, my newspaper
opened subjects of a new and interesting character,
which engaged my attention for a time. Such
was the question of inquiry into the Endowed
Charities of the country, which in 1818 had as-
sumed a national importance. By the strenuous
exertions of Mr. Brougham a Commission was
appointed-first to inquire into charities connected
with Education, and then into all charities. Pend-
ing the results of this investigation, a volume was
published by a member of the Bar, Mr. Francis
Charles Parry, on the Charities of Berkshire. Such
an account as this gentleman collected, somewhat
too full of vague charges of abuses, determined me to
undertake a really useful labour-that of carefully
searching all the documents relating to the charities
208
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
of Windsor, and of publishing them in the most
complete form in my newspaper. It was an honour
to my native town that no information was withheld
from me; and that I could discover no misappro-
priation of bequests, and no violation of "the will of
the founder." Nor was there any example of that
species of legal construction of "the will of the
founder" which has built up the magnificence of
many of the London Companies. Vast are their
rent-rolls. In days when houses and lands were not
worth a twentieth part of their present nominal
value, these magnates became the inheritors of many
a fertile acre and many an improveable tenement, in
trust that they should pay, for defined charitable
purposes, a particular amount of pounds sterling,
annually and for ever-probably the then rent of
those lands and houses leaving something for need
ful charges. The rents of the fourteenth, or fifteenth,
or sixteenth centuries-the defined sums-are justly
paid. The surplus of the rents of the nineteenth
century, increased twenty-fold or even fifty-fold, are
partially employed for useful purposes; but they go
very far towards the cost of the turtle and loving-
cups upon which so much of the public welfare
depends. Though Windsor had no flagrant abuses,
a few of our charities furnished an example of the
necessity of giving large powers to Charity Commis-
sioners, if not for authorizing the Government, to
deal with some benevolent provisions of ancient times
in a way better adapted to the wants of modern
society. But the greater number were not wholly
for past generations in their usefulness. There was
a Free School, with a considerable permanent income,
where fifty boys and girls were educated and clothed.
Ch. V.1
209
THE FIRST EPOCH.
It did not belong to the then much abused class of
Grammar Schools-of which there were several speci-
mens within my knowledge-where the clergyman,
who was also the schoolmaster, put the funds into his
pocket because the farmers' and labourers' sons did
not want to learn Latin. The poor children of our
borough were taught those humble accomplishments
which Sir William Curtis eulogised as the three Rs-
Reading, Riting, and Rithmetic. With the aid of
supplementary endowments for Apprenticing Poor
Boys and Rewarding Diligent Apprentices, many of
these lads became thriving tradesmen. I could point
to one man whom I am proud to call my friend,
who came to my father to be apprenticed with his
blue livery on his back; received the reward upon
the faithful completion of his indentures; pursued
the trade on his own account in which he had been
a valuable assistant; is now not unknown to the
world, as having, before the days of railroads, orga-
nised a newspaper-system which fought against space
and time to give the earliest intelligence to the
Liverpool Exchange; and has become himself a
newspaper proprietor, and one of the chief mediums
for the journalistic communication between England
and her Colonies as well as with North and South
America. Honoured be the memory of Archbishop
Laud, who by his will thus made provision not
only for the apprenticeship of "children of honest
poor people;" but laid the foundations of their future
prosperity. Many a young woman, through his pro-
vident care, has kept her position in "the faithful
service of the antique world," and has not rushed
into premature wedlock, sustained by the hope of re-
ceiving a marriage-portion on the condition of having
VOL. I.
0
210
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
served the same master or mistress for three years.
Let us cherish the memory of Laud for the sake of
his Berkshire Charities. What matters it to us that
we have outgrown his politics and his polemics!
May we never, in dreams of universal philanthropy,
believe that we are growing in true philosophy when
we attempt to exclude individual sympathies for the
lowly by larger aspirations for the human race.
Above all, let us not presume to obliterate the Past,
by turning aside from those who have helped, each
according to his lights, to build up a wider Present-
erring men-short-sighted-enemies to progress in
the abstract, but nevertheless, in their practical bene-
volence, working for the "one increasing purpose" of
human improvement. The time, I trust, is very dis-
tant, when some pragmatical reformer, armed with
mere utilitarian weapons of tables and estimates,
may persuade the Legislature that it can do better
than continue such bequests as those of Laud, con-
ceived in the ancient spirit of making charitable pro-
vision for the few. The prizes, however unequally
distributed, are the best encouragements for the many.
I used to compare the beneficial effects of Laud's
benevolence, with the positively injurious results of
doles of bread "after Sunday morning service."
We had nine different bequests for giving bread to
the poor-five of them willed in the seventeenth
century, and four in the eighteenth. There were
two centuries between the first endowment for
"bread to the poor" in 1603 and the last in 1803.
Had the loaves at the church-door succeeded the
dole at the Monastery-gate? These periods did not
embrace the golden age of abundance for all, which
some imagine was once the condition of a happy
Ch. V.]
211
THE FIRST EPOCH.
people. Forty-eight poor persons regularly attended
our parish church on the Sunday morning, drawn
thither, I fear, more by the prospect of the half-quar-
tern loaf than by a hungering for "the bread of life.”
Such almsgiving is, of all others, the most destructive
of the self-respect of the recipients. I would not care
to preserve these endowments; nor that other very
perplexing one of Six Pounds, to be distributed
amongst twelve of "the godliest poor of Windsor."
Our Spinning Charity, which had endured for two
centuries, has, I find, come to an end, as it was diffi-
cult to obtain people to work at spinning. ("Annals
of Windsor," vol. ii. p. 425.) Year after year the
old spinners had died out; there were no young
spinners to succeed; and the very name of "spin-
ster" had become obsolete, except in the publication
of banns of marriage. The almswomen, inhabiting
five or six different blocks of houses in various parts of
the town, kept up as well as they could this unprofit-
able labour. The words of the first bequest of 1621
were, that "the poor might be continually employed
in the making of cloth." The convictions of the
pious persons who bequeathed their lands and houses
for an artificial stimulus of industry furnish a suffi-
cient example of the state of the country, when the
ordinary operations of capital were insufficient to
adjust the relations of demand and supply. The
age of domestic manufactures was certainly not one
of general prosperity. The machinery in our town
for prolonging the primitive system was curious.
Imagine a busy corporator, even forty years ago
when all worked less, occupied, first, in buying a
store of flax; secondly, in giving it out, pound by
pound, to the old crones who could still keep the
0 2
212
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
wheel at work; thirdly, in weighing the yarn when
returned, and paying at a fixed rate, however ill
the labour was performed; fourthly, in making the
best arrangement he could for having it woven, in
a part of the country where the weaver's shuttle
had gone out even before the spinning-wheel. Lucky
was the almswoman who enjoyed a bequest omitted
in the charity records. An ancient lady was inspired
to accomplish one of the objects of Pope's satire-
"Die and endow a college or a cat."
The cat had lived through nine lives in my time; but
I presume she is not immortal.
Social Science in 1818 had a very small attend-
ance of disciples in her schools. For an inquiring
few, she had her Primers and her Junior Class
Books; and in her inner courts for the initiated,
Bentham was preaching in a language the farthest
removed from popular comprehension. Romilly,
in the House of Commons, had been labouring for
ten years to amend the Criminal Laws. His
valuable life was closed prematurely before he
had achieved any marked victory over the system
under which the death penalty was capriciously
enforced, to inspire "a vague terror" amongst the
whole criminal population. The prisons were nur-
series of crime. The detective police were amongst
crime's chief encouragers. Forgery flourished above
all other crimes, for the Government offered the
temptation whilst they unsparingly hanged the
tempted. The Game Laws raised up pilfering pea-
sants into gangs of brigands. Smuggling was
nurtured into the dignity of commercial enterprise,
by protective duties so absurdly high that a wall
Ch. V.]
213
THE FIRST EPOCH.
of brass could not have kept out the brandies and
lace and silk that the Continent was ready to pour
in. The great bulk of the population was wholly
ignorant and partly brutal. The Church had not
awakened from its long sleep. If the schoolmaster
was abroad, he was rather seeking for work than
doing it. Looking as a journalist upon our social
condition, I was sometimes unhappy and desponding.
My dissatisfaction found a vent in letters from an
imaginary correspondent :-
"The prevailing feeling which a newspaper excites
in my breast, without the indulgence of any sickly
sensibility, is that of melancholy. It presents a
gloomy portrait of our species. It is a living herald
of the bad passions of individuals and the mistakes
of society. It discovers little of the better part of
mankind, for the most elevated virtue is the most
unobtrusive. The atmosphere of vice is a broad
and visible darkness overspreading the land, through
which the gaunt spectres of crime glare fearfully
upon us. The newspaper applies its microscopic
eyes to these miserable objects; like Tam O'Shanter,
it looks upon their secret revels-it notes every
movement of the infuriated dance; it traces the
progress of evil from its mazy beginning to its hor-
rible close; it anatomizes the deformities of the
heart, and encases them for public exhibition.
Should these spectacles be withheld from the
general eye? Unquestionably not. They administer,
indeed, to that love of strong excitement which
characterizes the human mind in every state, but
which operates most powerfully upon a highly re-
fined community-and so far they are mischievous.
But still they have a voice of edification. They
214
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
summon us all to the labour of opposing that flood
of iniquity which threatens to break down the dykes
and mounds of our social institutions; they call us
to eradicate the canker which interrupts the natural
spring of moral health. The evil is in the root.
The institutions for the prevention and punishment
of crime are founded upon a wrong view of human
nature; they have a direct tendency to confirm and
multiply the effects of depraved ignorance.
"Your weekly 'map of busy life' reaches me in
the solitude of the most beautiful and the least
visited part of Windsor Forest. This morning I
rose ere the sun had lighted the autumnal foliage
with a brighter yellow and a richer brown. My
walk was in the silent woods. All around me was
cheerfulness. The birds of song were pouring forth
their instinctive gratitude for returning day-the
noisy rooks had a spirit of gladness in their whirling
flights the graceful deer glided before me with
fearless nimbleness. My heart expanded at the
enjoyments of these humble beings. Surely, I ex-
claimed, every creature that lives in conformity to
its nature is happy. I returned to my home. Your
journal was on my breakfast-table. The calendar
of the 'Old Bailey' met my view. I read of the
condemnation of thirty-five persons to the penalty
of death, and of nearly two hundred to lesser degrees
of punishment. I considered that these scenes are
repeated every six weeks!* The impressions of my
morning walk had a redoubled force. I felt assured
that man was not destined to crime and misery.
* The Central Criminal Court was not established till 1834. The
Sessions of the Old Bailey, previous to that change, were held
eight times a year for the trial of offences committed in Middlesex.
Ch. V.]
215
THE FIRST EPOCH.
Are, then, these penal modes of counteracting the
corruptions of society suggested by reason and bene-
volence?"
I believe that at this period I got into a morbid
state of mind, by thinking too much of
"the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world.”
I had no large and definite object of ambition. My
occupations were not engrossing enough to carry
me away from dreamy speculations. I pored over
the Platonic writers, Proclus and Plotinus, in Tay-
lor's translations; and accepted the philosophy of
which Coleridge was the modern expositor, as far
nobler than the doctrine of ideas derived from sen-
sation. I sometimes thought that the great mysteries.
of human life were clearing up; and then again I
relapsed into bewilderment. May I venture to dig
out from its recesses a sonnet which represents my
state of mind at this crisis, when the blessing of the
primal curse was not sufficiently laid upon me ?—
"C
Unquiet thoughts, ye wind about my heart
In many-tangled webs. My daily toil,
The obstinate cares of life, the vain turmoil
Of getting dross and spending, bear their part
In this entanglement; and if my mind
Shake off its chains, and, free as mountain-wind,
Repose on Nature's pure maternal breast,
Interpreting her fresh and innocent looks
Discoursing truth and love clearer than books,
Thoughts are still weaving webs of my unrest.
O grant me, Wisdom, to behold thee near,
Deep, clear, reveal'd as one all-perfect whole;
Or give me back the sleep to worldlings dear—
Thy glimmerings disturb my heated soul.”
Turning from metaphysics to hard realities, and
looking upon the apparently interminable warfare
216
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE.
between Ignorance and Power, I could perceive very
few reconciling principles of social policy, or influen-
tial mediators between the lawless and the governing
classes. The King's Proclamation was duly recited by
the Town Clerk at our Borough Sessions; and as
duly did our old Town-Serjeant produce a laugh
when he called for silence whilst "his Majesty's
Proclamation against all Wice, Perfaneness, and Im-
morality, was openly read." I doubt whether His
Majesty's Proclamation, which had been prescribed
as a remedy for social evils at the beginning of his
reign, was very effective after an experience of sixty
years. Drunkenness in our humbler classes was not
discouraged by any marked temperance of their
superiors, especially of the elder generation. There
was a whole street of a vicious population, where
almost every house was a den of infamy. At the
bottom of this foul quarter stood our gaol-a gaol
built by George the Third upon the most approved
plans of the Surveyor-General,-which contained no
means whatever of enforcing hard labour. Offenders
were sometimes flogged at the cart-tail through our
streets, amidst the hootings of the populace when
the gaoler, who was the executioner, struck hard.
There were no instruments for the prevention of
crime but our ancient watchmen, and the one beadle,
parading the town in his laced coat. In the open
day, an informer-that most detestable to the mob
of the instruments for enforcing our then abominable
fiscal laws-was set upon, and nearly killed, whilst
the constable's staff hung quietly upon its peg in the
shop of the annual officer. The law did little for
the prevention of outrage and felony. Public opinion
looked on, and held its tongue; for to attempt. the
Ch. V.]
217
THE FIRST EPOCH.
reform of abuses was the province only of wicked
democrats called Radicals.
We had established an Auxiliary Bible Society, in
which I felt it a duty to take an active part. I did
so, not so much in the hope that the mere possession
of the Scriptures would produce any signal good in
an ignorant household, but in the persuasion that
this union in a common endeavour would soften
down some of the differences between Churchmen
and Dissenters. In my earliest recollections, all
Dissenters went by the generic name of "Metho-
dists;" and the vulgar term of opprobrium for sec-
taries in the palmy days of "Church and King" was
"Pantilers." I saw the congregation of Indepen-
dents gradually emerge from a miserable chapel in
a squalid neighbourhood, and plant themselves in
the principal street, having as their minister a sen-
sible, humane, and tolerant man, not very learned,
but something better. The Evangelical Clergy did
not scruple to fraternise with the more respectable
Dissenters in works of charity. The dignitaries of
our colleges generally kept aloof, and looked upon
the changing aspects of the times with something
like dread.
Although, as a journalist, I was impartial towards
the Dissenters, I had often to combat what I deemed
their prejudices. I had been trained under George III.
to regard the Sunday gatherings on the Terrace as not
only innocent but useful. When the Terrace was
shut up, and people of all ranks crowded to hear the
bands in the Long Walk, I thought that this mode of
enjoyment was a great deal better than the back par-
lour or noisy tap-room of the public-house. The Dis-
senters thought otherwise; and one of their body had
218
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
the indiscretion to circulate a hand-bill from house to
house, denouncing us all as Sabbath-breakers and
worse than heathens, in terms which, however familiar
to Scotland, were comparatively new to Southern
England. I got into a controversy on this question
which might have been better avoided. But in other
respects also I was a sinner. The congregation of In-
dependents had not only established themselves in the
High Street, but had done so by purchasing our little
Theatre, endeared to us by so many recollections of
the hearty merriment of the good old King. The
building was quickly metamorphosed into a Meet-
ing House. There was little encouragement for
theatrical performances in Windsor, now there was
an end of royal patronage; for the fact of the resi-
dence of the Court at the Castle brought us under
the License of the Lord Chamberlain, which was
granted only upon the condition that there should be
no plays enacted except during the vacations at Eton
College. Nevertheless we built a new Theatre at
a large cost, with small dividends to the share-
holders, of whom my father was the principal. It
was opened in August, 1815; and I wrote a Pro-
logue, which was not conciliatory towards the sectaries,
who regarded our proceedings as highly criminal. The
time was far distant when Shakspere would be quoted
in the Dissenter's pulpit. Our theatre was pretty
and commodious; but the manager could not
draw audiences without stars. In 1817 I became
acquainted with Edmund Kean, in his visits to
Windsor at our Christmas season. I was an en-
thusiastic admirer of his genius; and wrote most
elaborate criticisms on his Othello and Shylock, his
Sir Giles Overreach and Sir Edward Mortimer. I
¿
Ch. V.]
219
THE FIRST EPOCH.
had often then what I considered the great privilege
of supping with him after the play. He was always
surrounded by two or three followers who admi-
nistered to his insatiable vanity in the coarsest style;
applauded to the echo his somewhat loose talk; and
stimulated his readiness to "make a night of it."
My unbounded admiration for the talent of the actor
was somewhat interrupted by a humiliating sense of
the weakness of the man. Nevertheless the attrac-
tion was irresistible as long as he strove to make
himself agreeable. How exquisitely he sang a pathetic
ballad! The rich melody, the deep tenderness, of
his "Fly from the world, O Bessie, to me," were to
live in my memory, in companionship with the exqui-
site music of his voice in his best days, when he
uttered upon the stage, in a way which no other actor
has approached, the soliloquy ending with "Othello's
occupation's gone.
""
For one who was thus, naturally enough, consi-
dered by "the unco gude" as a profane Journalist,
I became somewhat oddly mixed up with serious
matters. The Church Building Society was at this
period beginning to be active. We had to build a new
Church at Windsor-but not an additional church.
Our old fabric-to which the "Merry Wives" of the
days of Elizabeth might have resorted with their
pages to carry the Prayer Book-was in danger of
falling on our heads, although we had spent large
sums in vamping it up. Then, according to the
fashion of that opening day for manufacturers of
gaudy elevations, perplexing plans, and fallacious
estimates, we determined upon an architectural com-
petition. I was Secretary to our Church Building
Committee. I there learnt-what will be a mystery
220
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
to future generations-how jobbery and presumption
were covering the land with ecclesiastical edifices at
once the most tasteless and the most expensive.
The old style of the early days of the King, when
four brick walls, pierced with half a dozen holes on
each side for windows-the style that suited every
public structure, whether church, barrack, or hos-
pital-was really less offensive than the new style of
the Regent, when the flimsy buttress was added to
the bald shadowless walls, and the windows became a
corrupt mixture of every period from the Norman to
the Tudor. For the rage was now for Gothic, so
called. We obtained one of this class of Churches,
made to the received pattern, at a preposterous cost
for Bath stone and corresponding frippery; when we
might have had, for half the money, a plain erection
of the heath stone of which Windsor Castle is built,
with more claim to medieval character, in its lancet-
windows, sturdy buttresses, and massive tower—alto-
gether suited to the simple grandeur of the regal pile
on our hill's summit.
Society, as I then looked upon it with a very
narrow range of view, was decidedly in a transition
state. Compared with my earlier remembrances, the
middle classes were becoming more refined and more
luxurious. There was more elegance in their house-
hold arrangements, and more expense. Their man-
ners were less formal, their dress more natural.
Hair-powder had altogether gone out; the Hessian
boot was in most cases superseded by the boot under
the trousers. Even the Queen's old-fashioned apo-
thecary no longer wore his spencer, which I used to
consider an essential part of the good man. There
were only four queues left amongst us.
The young
Ch. V.]
221
THE FIRST EPOCH.
ladies had begun to be educated more with a view to
accomplishments than housekeeping utilities. There
was a good deal of fuss in most houses if the
daughters were asked to play or sing; but some
could go beyond "The Battle of Prague." I have
even heard Haydn's "Canzonets" given with taste
and feeling. But it was not yet a musical age.
The piano disturbed the solemn whist-players. At
Church, none of the congregation, male or female,
joined in the dull Psalmody, but left it all to the
charity children. The young women tittered when
the old clerk indulged in his established joke, by
giving out the first words of the Psalm-"Lord!
who's the happy man,"-in compliment to a bride who
hid her blushes under the white veil. Novel-reading
was general. Miss Porter and Miss Edgeworth and
Mrs. Radcliffe still held their ancient empire, and
were not driven out by the Waverley Novels. Scott,
as a poet, was almost forgotten in the passion for
Byron; but Wordsworth was scarcely known popu-
larly. Upon the whole, though young men from a
supper-party were sometimes riotous in the streets,
the old habit of drinking was yielding amongst the
middle classes to better influences. I think I
may
venture to say that there was not a
"fast" young
lady amongst us; though there was a good deal of
merriment, and a country dance upon the carpet
would often follow "a round game." The times,
however, made most of us serious-more so than we
used to be in the days when we defied only a foreign
enemy.
To the old dwellers in Windsor it had altogether
become a changed place. The Queen died in No-
vember, 1818. The Princesses-so endeared to their
222
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
[Ch. V.
humble neighbours by unceasing acts of kindness,
and by a friendliness which took an interest even in
the domestic circumstances of those around them—
were then dispersed. The great household of the
Castle was broken up. The walk to Datchet through
the Upper Park was closed; and we sighed in vain.
for some sturdy patriot to resist the innovation, after
the fashion of "Timothy Bennet, of Hampton Wick,
in Middlesex, Shoemaker," under whose engraved
portrait, preserved in a few houses, was thus
inscribed: "This true Briton (unwilling to leave the
world worse than he found it), by a vigorous applica-
tion of the laws of his country, obtained a free pas-
sage through Bushy Park, which had many years
been withheld from the people." The Regent had
been gradually patching up his Cottage in the Great
Park, till his enormous thatched Palace might have
suggested the notion that it was an immense tithe-
barn converted into a workhouse or infirmary, had it
not been for the forest of Gothic chimneys, and the
colonnade of unhewn firs, which implied too much of
grotesqueness to indicate any purposes of utility.
This domain was as rigidly guarded from observation
as Mr. Beckford's gorgeous halls at Fonthill. The
Windsor "purveyors" were very well satisfied with
the change from the severe economy which the Queen
had exercised at the Castle since the King's illness,
to the lavish housekeeping of the Cottage. Scan-
dalous stories, such as a modern Brantôme might
have recorded had he dared, were current in our
town. But there was ever mixed up with them some
anecdotes of the Regent's kindness to his satellites
and servants, amongst his frivolities and practical
jokes-the sort of benevolence which the most selfish
Ch. V.]
223
THE FIRST EPOCH.
show to those whom they consider as a part of them-
selves. I used to think it not an unamiable trait of
a considerate host, when the court-butcher told me,
"Old Bags has unexpectedly come down, and a
special messenger has gone back to the Cottage as
hard as he could gallop, with calves' liver, which the
old boy relishes better than all the cookery of my
friend the Shef, as they call him."
The Court had ceased to have any moral influence
at Windsor. We had become as most other country
towns. Groping their way in the labyrinth of social
evils by which they were surrounded, most benevolent
persons had come to the conclusion, that the Adults
of their generation must take their chance of growing
happier and better under our existing systems, but
that improvements, to be real and permanent, must
begin with the Young. The half-whispered cry was
for Education. A good deal had been done since the
introduction of the systems of Lancaster and Bell;
but a great deal remained to be done. In Windsor
we had no schools beyond those of the Endowed Cha-
rities and a Sunday School. In 1819 there was
residing amongst us a gentleman of whom I shall
have more particularly to speak-Mr. Edward Hawke
Locker. He originated a well-considered plan for
the establishment of a National School, which by
the Christmas of that year was placed upon a solid
foundation. The supporters of this institution had
some prejudices to struggle against, and more indif-
ference. The political aspects of the time not only
diverted public attention from the social, but pro-
duced in many unreasoning persons a solemn convic-
tion that the dozen years of reading and writing that
had been imprudently bestowed upon a portion of
224
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE.
the manufacturing classes had made them discon-
tented and seditious; whilst the agricultural labourers,
upon whom only a few unwise friends of the poor had
thought it necessary to shower such dangerous gifts,
were as patient as the ox who knoweth his owner,
and the ass his master's crib. Let me glance at
these political aspects, which few could regard without
serious fears of an unhappy future.
The demand for Parliamentary Reform, which the
terror of the French Revolution had hushed for
thirty years, occasionally now raised a feeble voice in
a few legally constituted assemblies. Scouted by
majorities of Lords and Commons, a handful of the
old aristocratic denouncers of Rotten Boroughs still
claimed for the people the right of efficient Repre-
sentation. Bolder advocates rose up amongst the
unrepresented classes themselves, who were taught
by itinerant demagogues that every misery of the
working man would vanish at the magical word of
Universal Suffrage. In the autumn of 1819, these
dangerous leaders persuaded their adherents that
the time for action had arrived. Large multitudes
assembled for the election of Legislatorial At-
torneys.
the unconstitu-
There were riots and arrests; and at length came
what is called "The Manchester Massacre." The
country was thoroughly frightened. Parliament was
called together to make new laws; and it produced
what Lord Campbell describes as
tional code called the Six Acts." At the Christmas
of 1819 every journalist went about his work under
the apprehension that if he wrote what, by the
uncertain verdict of a jury, might be construed into
a seditious libel, he would not only be subjected to
Ch. V.1
225
THE FIRST EPOCH.
very terrible fine and imprisonment, but, if convicted
a second time, would be liable to be transported
beyond seas. I looked with dread towards a struggle
which would end either in anarchy or military go-
vernment. Like Sydney Smith, I regarded democracy
and despotism as equally dangerous results of a con-
test between power and mob violence. "In which of
these two evils it terminates is of no more conse-
quence than from which tube of a double-barrelled
pistol I meet my destruction."
The effect of these circumstances upon my political
opinions, during several succeeding years, is not
altogether satisfactory to look back upon. In my
hatred and contempt of the demagogues and profli-
gate writers who were stirring up the ignorant
masses to revolt and irreligion, I turned somewhat
aside from regarding the injustice that was at the root
of a desire for change. I panted for improvement
as ardently as ever. I was aspiring to become a
Popular Educator. But I felt that one must be con-
tent for a while to shut one's eyes to the necessity
for some salutary reforms, in the dread that any
decided movement towards innovation would be to
aid in the work of lopping and topping the sturdy
oak of the constitution till its shelter and its beauty
were altogether gone. I believe this was a common
feeling not only with public writers who did not
address the passions of the multitude, but with states-
men who were not subservient partizans. Thence
ensued a reticence in writing and in speaking, which
looked like a distrust of the progress of improvement
even with many of decided liberal opinions. I think
this was amongst the worst results of those evil days
in which we had fallen in the last months of the
VOL. I.
P
226
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
reign of the old King. I had to drag this chain of
doubtful timidity in my first attempt to address the
humbler classes.
As early as 1814 I had the notion of becoming a
Popular Educator. I have a letter before me, written
on the 24th of January of that year to the more than
friend to whom I laid open all my feelings and plans,
in which I said "I want to consult you about a
cheap work we think of publishing in weekly num-
bers, for the use of the industrious part of the com-
munity, who have neither money to buy, nor leisure
to read, bulky and expensive books. It will consist
of plain Essays on points of duty; the Evidences of
Christianity; Selections from the works of the most
approved English Divines; Abstracts of the Laws
and Constitution of Great Britain; History; Infor-
mation on useful Arts and Sciences; and Select
Pieces of Entertainment." The scheme was con-
stantly in my mind; and it was often present in
day-dreams of a more extended area of employment
than I then occupied, especially after I had acquired
a little familiarity with the general ignorance of the
working classes, knew something practical of their
habits, saw in some few a desire for knowledge, and
felt how ill their intellectual wants could be supplied.
Now and then, on our market-day, in strange juxta-
position with the brown earthenware and the coarse
brushes of the itinerant dealers, would be placed
upon a stall the old dog's-eared volume, and the new
flimsy numbers of the book-hawker. I have seen
with pity some aspiring artisan spend his sixpence
upon an antiquated manual of history or geography,
to which he would devote his brief and hard-earned
hours of leisure, gaining thus the "two grains of
Ch. V.]
227
THE FIRST EPOCH.
دو
wheat hid in two bushels of chaff." Or I have
beheld some careful matron tempted to buy the
first number of the "Pilgrim's Progress
or the
"Book of Martyrs "--perhaps one less discreet
bestowing her attention upon the "History of Witch-
craft" or the "Lives of the Highwaymen "-each
arranging with the Canvasser for a monthly delivery
till the works should be completed, when they would
find themselves in possession of the dearest books
that came from the press, even in the palmy days of
expensive luxuries. For the young, such stalls would
offer the worst sort of temptations in sixpenny Novels
with a coloured frontispiece; whose very titles would
invite to a familiarity with the details of crime—of
murders and adulteries, of violence and fraud, of
licentiousness revelling in London, and innocence be-
trayed in the country-something much more harmful
than the old-world stories, the dreams and divina-
tions, of the ancient chap-books. Would the book-
hawker of that time, with his costly, meagre,
useless, and worse than useless, wares, be able to
satisfy the intellectual cravings of any young man
sincerely desirous profitably to exercise his newly-
acquired ability to read?
I shall have to relate, in the next chapter, how,
nearly six years after the idea of a Cheap Miscellany
had been gradually shaping itself in my habitual
thoughts, but still without any notion of an imme-
diate practical result, I suddenly made my first ex-
cursion into the almost untrodden field of cheap and
wholesome Literature for the People. The necessity
for some educational efforts to counteract the influence
of dangerous teachers had become more and more
apparent. The Government was watchful. It had
P 2
228
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
the power of repressing tumult by the military arm,
and of suspending the public liberty for the discovery
of conspirators. But it did nothing, and encouraged
nothing, that indicated a paternal Government. There
were crafty men in most towns, who stimulated dis-
content into outrage, and for a sufficient motive would
betray their associates. Such a man was living at
Eton. Upon the trial of the wretched participators
in the Cato-Street Conspiracy, Arthur Thistlewood
denounced this man, as "the contriver, the instigator,
the entrapper." We are told, from unquestionable
authority, in the "Life of Lord Sidmouth," that the
principal informant of the Home-Office "was a
modeller and itinerant vendor of images, named
Edwards, who first opened himself at Windsor, as
early as the month of November, to Sir Herbert
Taylor, then occupying an important official situation
in the establishment of George III." This Edwards
was not an itinerant vendor of images. I have
spoken with him in his small shop in the High
Street of Eton-perhaps at the very time when he
was plotting and betraying. He had some ingenuity
as a modeller; and produced a very tolerable statu-
ette of Dr. Keate, in his cocked hat. His sale of
this little model was considerable amongst the junior
boys of Eton College-not exactly out of reverence
for their head-master but as a mark to be pelted at.
Does any copy exist of this historical Portrait? The
subject of the little bust and its modeller are both
historical. They each belong to a state of society of
which we have, happily, got rid. The schoolmaster,
albeit a ripe scholar and a gentleman, belonged to
the past times, when Education, like Government, was
conducted upon that system of terror which was the
Ch. V.]
229
THE FIRST EPOCH.
easiest system for the administrators. "The greatest
happiness for the greatest number," whether of boys
or men, had to be discovered. In the scholastic, or
political, exaltation of the aristocratic system, there
was ample scope for the few clever and aspiring. To
these the patrician and the pedagogue graciously
afforded encouragement and substantial patronage.
But the mass of the dull, the unambitious, and the
reckless, were left to their own capacity for drifting
into evil. If the misdoers came under the imperfect
cognizance of the authorities, they were heavily
punished as a salutary terror to others. The flog-
ging-block was the first step to personal degra-
dation in the school; the prison, in the State. If
these did not answer, the school was ready with
expulsion; the State with the gallows. One essen-
tial difference there was in the two systems. The
honour of the Etonian was proof against spydom and
treachery as regarded his fellows. In the terror-
stricken politics of that time there was verge enough
for the instigator and entrapper. I have written
that Sir Herbert Taylor, whose honour was unim-
peachable, was utterly incapable of suggesting to the
spy that he should incite the wretched associates in
the conspiracy to the pursuance of their frantic de-
signs. ("Popular History of England," vol. viii. p.
160.) Yet, if I remember rightly the face of George
Edwards, Sir Herbert Taylor might have seen that
he was a rogue by nature. This diminutive animal,
with downcast look and stealthy face, did not calculate
badly when he approached one who, although bred in
court-habits, had a solid foundation of honesty which
made him unsuspicious. Sir Herbert was a man not
versed in the common affairs of the outer world.
230
[Ch. V.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
He had been the depository of many a political secret
which he could confide to no friend. Shy, painfully
cautious, I have heard him break down in the most
simple address to the electors when he first stood for
Windsor; and yet a man of real ability. Imagine a
crafty mechanic procuring access to him at the
Castle as the starving man of taste-a plaster cast
of his workmanship carefully produced-the guinea
about to be proffered-and then a whisper of some
terrible Secret which he could disclose at the peril
of his life-all the outer evidences of contrition, and
the resolve to make a clean breast. Imagine this
repeated day by day-with the plot-haunted Lord
Sidmouth eagerly calling for more evidence, and
urging Sir Herbert Taylor to palter with this devil,
and not hand him over to the Privy Council, who
might have crushed the cockatrice before the egg
was hatched. We may imagine all this; and yet
acquit Sir Herbert Taylor of a participation in the
guilt which too often attaches to those, in all ages,
who have fostered treason in waiting for overt acts.
Before the outbreak of the Conspiracy, an event
occurred, which, although not unexpected, nor fraught
with consequences unforeseen, opened a further cer-
tain prospect of political disquiet. The death of
George the Third took place on the evening of Satur-
day, the 29th of January, 1820. The Duke of Kent,
his fourth son, had died only six days before. The
Regent became King; the Duke of York was the
Presumptive Heir to the Throne; the Duke of
Clarence the next in succession. The infant daughter
of the Duke of Kent would succeed, if the thre
elder brothers of her father should die without issue.
The position of George the Fourth and Queen Caro-
Ch. V.]
231
THE FIRST EPOCH.
line might again open that miserable "Book" which
the public welfare required to be for ever shut.
The Funeral of George the Third appeared to me
like the close of a long series of reminiscences.
Windsor had to me been associated with the loud
talk and the good-natured laugh of a portly gentle-
man with a star on his breast, whom I sometimes
ran against in my childhood; with a venerable per-
sonage, blind, but cheerful, who sat erect on a led
horse, as I had seen him in my youth; with the dim
idea of my manhood, that in rooms of the Castle
which no curiosity could penetrate, there sat an old
man with a long beard, bereft of every attribute of
rank, who occasionally talked wildly or threw himself
about frantically, and sometimes awoke recollections
of happier days by striking a few chords on his piano.
Then came the final pageant. It was a Poem rather
than a show. The Lying-in-State was something
higher than undertaker's art. As I passed through
St. George's Hall, I thought of the last display of
regal pomp in that room-the Installation of 1805-
when at the banquet the Sovereign stood up and
pledged his knights, and the knights, in full cups of
gold, invoked health and happiness on the Sovereign.
The throne on which George the Third then sat was
now covered with funeral draperies. I went on into
the King's Guard-Chamber. The room was darkened
—there was no light but that of the flickering wood-
fires which burnt on an ancient hearth on each side.
On the ground lay the beds on which the Yeomen of
the Guard had slept during the night. They stood
in their grand old dresses of state, with broad scarves.
of crape across their breasts, and crape on their
halberds. As the red light of the burning brands
232
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. V.
gleamed on their rough faces, and glanced ever and
anon upon the polished mail of the Black Prince,
on the bruised armour of the soldiers of the Plan-
tagenets, and on the matchlocks and bandoleers of
the early days of modern warfare, some of the reality
of the Present passed into visions of the Past. I
thought of Edward of Windsor, the great builder of
the Castle, deserted in his last moments. I thought
of other "sad stories of the deaths of kings." I came
back to the immediate interest of the scene before
me, by remembering that not one of the long line of
English sovereigns before George the Third had died
at Windsor. I passed on into the chamber of death.
All here was comparatively modern. The hangings
of purple cloth which hid West's gaudy pictures of
the Institution of the Order of the Garter; the wax-
lights on silver sconces; the pages standing by the
side of the coffin; the Lord of the Bedchamber sitting
at its head; much of this was upholstery work,
and did not affect the imagination, except in con-
nexion with the solemn silence,-a stillness unbroken,
even when rustic feet, unused to tread on carpets,
passed by the bier, awe-struck.
One such Royal Funeral as I had previously seen
was not essentially different from another. The out-
door ceremonial at the interment of George the Third
was not readily to be forgotten. It was a walking
procession. The night was dark and misty. Vast
crowds were assembled in the Lower Ward of the
Castle, hushed and expectant. A platform had been
erected from the Grand Entrance of the Castle to
the Western Entrance of St. George's Chapel. It
was lined on each side by a single file of the Guards.
A signal-rocket is fired. Every soldier lights a torch,
Ch. V.l
233
THE FIRST EPOCH.
and the massive towers and the delicate pinnacles
stand out in the red glare. Minute guns are now
heard in the distance. Will those startling voices
never cease? Expectation is at its height. A flourish
of trumpets is heard, and then the roll of muffled
drums. A solemn dirge comes upon the ear, nearer
and nearer. The funeral-car glides slowly along the
platform without any perceptible aid from human or
mechanical power. The dirge ceases for a little while;
and then again the trumpets and the muffled drums
sound alternately. Again the dirge-softly breath-
ing flutes and clarionets mingling their notes with
"the mellow horn "-and then a dead silence; for
the final resting-place is reached. Heralds and ban-
ners and escutcheons touch not the heart. But
the Music! That is something grander than the
picturesque.
CHAPTER VI.

MAY trace my first venture, as an Editor
and Publisher, into the dimly-descried
region of Popular Literature, to a paper
which I wrote in the Windsor Express of
December 11, 1819, headed "Cheap Publications."
In this article I set forth, as one of the most re-
markable, and in some degree most fearful "signs
of the times," the excessive spread of cheap publi-
cations almost exclusively directed to the united
object of inspiring hatred of the Government and
contempt of the Religious Institutions of the country.
I noticed the singleness of purpose, in connexion with
the commercial rivalry, with which this object had
been pursued. With Cobbett's "Twopenny Register"
a race was run in London by Wooller's "Black
Dwarf," "The Republican," "The Medusa's Head,"
"The Cap of Liberty," and many more of the same
stamp; whilst every large manufacturing town had
its own peculiar vehicle of seditious and infidel
opinions. I had mentioned in a previous article
that a Manchester paper was advertising a catalogue
of books, occupying one column, nearly the whole
of which, aiming at the overthrow of Christianity,
"are all published in numbers," at a price accessible
even to the unhappy mechanics who labour sixteen
hours a-day for less than a shilling. I continued
my essay on "Cheap Publications" by adverting to
Ch. VI.]
235
THE FIRST EPOCH.
the rapid advances that had been made during the
previous twenty years in the Education of the Poor,
upon systems of instruction under which a consider-
able proportion of young men moving in the working
classes had grown up. It was amongst these persons,
possessing a talent unknown to their fathers-per-
haps a little ardent and presumptuous, and certainly
craving after information with a passionate desire
that might become either a blessing or a curse-that
cheap publications had been most widely diffused.
The anarchists of that day were a subtle and acute
race. They had watched the progress of knowledge
amongst the people. Their publications teemed with
allusions to the increased intelligence of the working
classes. "There is a new power in society, and they
have combined to give that power a direction. The
work must be taken out of their hands."
After the lapse of more than forty years, I feel
that a desire to exhibit some characteristics of the
tentative process by which useful knowledge was
then to be diffused will excuse me for giving a longer
extract from this essay.
"We have already said, and it is perhaps necessary
to repeat it, that there is a new power entrusted to
the great mass of the working people, and that it is
daily becoming of wider extent and greater impor-
tance. It has been most wisely and providently
agreed to give that power one principal direction by
interweaving it with religious knowledge and feel-
ings, that they might thus blend with the whole cur-
rent of mature thought, and sanctify the possession
of the keys of learning to useful and innocent ends.
We are yet disposed to think that this is not all
which the creation of such a new and extraordinary
236
[Ch. VI.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
power demands. Knowledge must have its worldly
as well as its spiritual range; it looks towards
Heaven, but it treads upon the earth.
The mass
of useful books are not accessible to the poor;
newspapers, with their admixture of good and evil,
seldom find their way into the domestic circle of the
labourer or artizan; the tracts which pious persons
distribute are exclusively religious, and the tone of
these is often either fanatical or puerile. The 'two-
penny trash,' as it is called, has seen farther, with
the quick perception of avarice or ambition, into the
intellectual wants of the working-classes. It was
just because there was no healthful food for their
newly-created appetite, that sedition and infidelity
have been so widely disseminated. The writers
employed in this work, and their leader and prototype,
Cobbett, in particular, show us pretty accurately the
sort of talent which is required to provide this health-
ful food. Fas est ab hoste doceri.' They state an
argument with great clearness and precision; they
divest knowledge of all its pedantic incumbrances;
they make powerful appeals to the deepest passions of
the human heart. Let a man of genius set out upon
these principles, in the task of building up a more
popular literature than we possess; and let him add,
what the seditious and infidel writers have thrown
away, the power of directing the affections to what
is reverend and beautiful in national manners
and institutions-tender and subduing in pure
and domestic associations-sacred and glowing in
what belongs to the high and mysterious destiny
of the human mind-satisfying and consoling in the
divine revelations of that destiny, and then, were
such a system embodied in one grand benevolent
<
Ch. VI.]
237
THE FIRST EPOCH.
design supplementary to the Instruction of the Poor,
National Education, we sincerely think, would go
on diffusing its blessings over every portion of the
land, and calling up a truly English spirit wherever
it penetrated. Neglect this provision, and we fear
that no penal laws will prevent the craving after
knowledge from being improperly gratified, and then
—but the evidence of the danger is before us."
The publication of this article led to an intimacy
between Mr. Locker and myself, which I count
amongst the most gratifying recollections of my life.
Within twenty-four hours of its appearance he called
upon me; and we very soon agreed to be joint
editors of a Monthly Serial work, intended, in some
degree, to supply the want I had pointed out. Within
a fortnight our plans were matured; and in the
Express" of Christmas-day it was announced, that
on the 1st of February, 1820, would appear No. I. of
"The Plain Englishman."
(C
When I first had the happiness of acquiring the
friendship of Mr. Locker he was in his forty-second
year. His life, before he came to reside at Windsor,
had been one of large and varied experience. The
names of Edward Hawke were given to him in
honour of the illustrious officer under whom his
father had served in the middle of the last century.
In his charming memoir of Admiral Locker, in
The Plain Englishman," he dwells with just pride
upon the attachment of our great naval hero to his
father. "Horatio Nelson, to the last hour of his
life, regarded him with the affection of a son and
with the respect of a pupil." After the battle of the
Nile he did not forget his old commander amidst the
flatteries and seductions which followed his victory.
238
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VI.
"I have been your scholar," he wrote; "it is you
who taught me to board a French man-of-war, by
your conduct in the Experiment. It is you who
always said, 'Lay a Frenchman close, and you will
beat him."" The private life of such a man, as glanced
at by his son, is interesting. When he first went to
sea, he would be surrounded on board a man-of-war
with the coarseness described by Smollett, and would
observe, in the manners of a British admiral much
of the language and demeanour of a boatswain's
mate. Sir Edward Hawke, whom he considered as
the founder of the more gentlemanly spirit which
had since been gradually gaining ground in the Navy,
first weaned him from the vulgar habits of a cockpit.
But the good old Admiral, in his dignified retirement
as Lieutenant-Governor of Greenwich Hospital, re-
tained much of the simplicity of his earlier time, in
association with the refinement of another genera-
tion. Mr. Locker has graphically described his
father's fire-side on a winter evening. "The veteran
sat in his easy chair, surrounded by his children. A
few gray hairs peeped from beneath his hat, worn
somewhat awry, which gave an arch turn to the head,
which it seldom quitted. The anchor-button and
scarlet waiscoat trimmed with gold marked the
fashion of former times. Before him lay his book,
and at his side a glass, prepared by the careful hand of
a daughter who devoted herself to him with a tender-
ness peculiarly delightful to the infirmities of age.
The benevolent features of the old man were slightly
obscured by the incense of a "cigárre," (the last
remnant of a cockpit education,) which spread its
fragrance in long wreaths of smoke around himself
and the whole apartment. A footstool supported his
Ch. VI.]
239
THE FIRST EPOCH.
wounded leg, beneath which lay the old and faithful
Newfoundland dog stretched on the hearth. Por-
traits of King Charles the First and Van Tromp
(indicating the characteristic turn of his mind)
appeared above the chimney-piece; and a multitude
of prints of British heroes covered the rest of the
wainscot. A knot of antique swords and Indian
weapons garnished the old-fashioned pediment of the
door; a green curtain was extended across the room
to fence off the cold air, to which an old sailor's con-
stitution is particularly sensitive." This picture is rich
in associations of a past age; but scarcely so much so
as another sketch which reminds us of Uncle Toby
and Corporal Trim: "The chief person in his confi-
dence was old Boswell,-the self-invested minister of
the extraordinaries of the family, who looked upon
the footman as a jackanapes, and on the female ser-
vants as incapable of 'understanding his honour.'
Boswell had been in his time a smart young seaman,
and formerly rowed the stroke-oar in the captain's
barge. After many a hard gale and long separation,
the association was renewed in old age, and to a
bystander had more of the familiarity of ancient
friendship than the relation of master and servant.
'Has your honour any further commands?' said
Boswell, as he used to enter the parlour in the even-
ing, while throwing his body into an angle he made
his reverence, and shut the door with his opposite
extremity at the same time. 'No, Boswell, I think
not, unless indeed you're disposed for a glass of
grog before you go.'
you go.' 'As
As your honour pleases,' was
the established reply.'" The grog is produced, and
the two veterans spin yarns about their adventures
in the Nautilus, up the Mississippi; the poor
240
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VI.
Indians, who won all their hearts; the great black
snake that nearly throttled the serjeant of marines,
'And the rattlesnake, too, that your honour killed
with your cane, five and forty feet.' Avast, Boswell,
mind your reckoning there; 'twas but twelve, you
rogue, and that is long enough in all conscience.""
(
My friend had the advantage of an Eton educa-
tion ; but he was destined for an active rather than a
learned life. He was in a government-office till he
was twenty-three, and then became Private Secre-
tary to Sir Edward Pellew. When his admiral
was commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean, Mr.
Locker discharged the arduous duties of Secretary
to the Fleet. He had a printing-press on board the
flag-ship which materially assisted his labours. In
his official capacity he visited Napoleon at Elba, a
few days after the fallen Emperor had taken posses-
sion of his narrow territory. His narrative of their
conversations is exceedingly interesting. ("Plain
Englishman," vol. iii. p. 475.) After the peace, Mr.
Locker married, and came to reside at Windsor.
From the period when our intimate acquaintance
commenced, I enjoyed his friendship for a quarter of
a century. He was to me an example of a true gen-
tleman-intelligent, well-read, energetic, charitable,
religious, tolerant-such as I had scarcely met in the
limited society in which I lived when I first knew him.
He soon removed from Windsor, to become the Se-
cretary of Greenwich Hospital, and afterwards the
Resident Civil Commissioner. His hospitable home
was always open to me; his active friendship was
never withheld; his judicious advice was my stay in
many a doubt and difficulty.
For three years Mr. Locker and I worked together,
Ch. VI.]
241
THE FIRST EPOCH.
with a cordiality never disturbed, in conducting "The
Plain Englishman." Our views were set forth in an
Introduction, which I wrote. Much of this composition
had necessarily regard to the peculiar danger of that
period-the irreligion and disloyalty that were asso-
ciated, or seemed to be associated, with the spread of
education. We were prepared to meet this danger in an
honest spirit: “We think highly of the understandings
of the people of our country. We shall address them,
therefore, not as children, but as men and women.
If we combat Infidelity, we shall look for our argu-
ments in those volumes which have made the deepest
impression on the wise and learned. If we would
disprove the falsehoods which designing persons have
propagated against our Government, we shall repub-
lish those reasons for a reverence of its forms and
institutions which have convinced the ablest minds,
and shown them its practical excellence. If we would
awaken all the noble feelings which belong to the
real patriot, we shall go back into the chronicles of
old for a history of those deeds which rouse the spirit
'as with a trumpet.' We shall not conceal anything
or distort anything. We shall enable all who seek
for knowledge to judge for themselves.”
This plain avowal did not receive the approbation
of the constituted authorities for making the people
wiser and better. The Christian Knowledge Society
was, at that period, the representative of what was
supine, timid, and time-serving in the Church. That
venerable corporation had not yet roused itself into
activity, to meet the new wants created by the grow-
ing ability to read. It had a depository of books, in
which were to be found antiquated works on the Evi-
dences, such as that of the learned and amiable Bishop
VOL. I.
Q
242
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VI.
Wilson, entitled "Instructions for the Indians,"—
so low was the intellectual power of his countrymen
rated by the good prelate. Many new compilations
had they in their store, through which they hoped to
meet the evils of the time, by talking to working
people as if they were as innocent of all knowledge,
both of good and evil, as in the days when their
painstaking mothers committed them to the edifying
instruction of the village schoolmistress, to be taught
to sit still and hold their tongues, forty in a close
room, for three hours together, at the moderate price
of twopence each per week. They meddled not
with dangerous Science or more dangerous History.
Poetry and all works of Imagination they eschewed.
Over their collection of dry bones the orthodox pub-
lishers, Messrs. Rivington, presided. My brother-
editor believed that this time-honoured Society would
willingly lend a helping hand to our well-meant
endeavour. Their booksellers agreed to be our Lon-
don publishers. But High-Church frowned; and we
were driven to the Low-Church rivals of the shop
that had long had "the Bible and Crown" over
its door. We had fallen into the common error of
the infancy of Popular Knowledge, in believing that
any scheme for its diffusion could be successful
which was not immediately addressed to the people
themselves, without in any degree depending upon
the patronage of gratuitous, and therefore suspicious,
distribution, by the superiors of those for whose
perusal works of a popular character are devised. It
was well for us that we got out of the shackles of this
Society, which was then wholly ignorant of the in-
tellectual wants and capabilities of the working popu-
lation; and would have insisted upon maintaining
Ch. VI.]
243
THE FIRST EPOCH.
the habit of talking to thinking beings, and for the
most part to very acute thinking beings, in the
language of the nursery- the besetting weakness
of the learned and aristocratic, from the very first
moment that they began to prattle about bestowing
the blessings of education. If we were tolerated in
the adoption of a higher tone, we must still have
assumed the attitude of writers who had come down
from their natural elevation to impart a small portion
of their wisdom to persons of very inferior under-
standing. "The Schoolmaster was abroad,"—and so
was Cobbett. As Scarlett always won a verdict by
getting close to the confiding twelve as if he were a
thirteenth juryman, so Cobbett forced his "Register"
into every workshop and every cottage, not only by
using the plainest English, but by identifying him-
self with the every-day thoughts-the passions, the
prejudices of those whom he addressed. It was very
long before any of us who aspired to be popular
instructors learnt the secret of his influence, and
could exhibit the "vigour of the bow" without “the
venom of the shaft."
The title-page of "The Plain Englishman” some
what too prominently described the work as "compre-
hending Original Compositions, and Selections from
the best Writers, under the heads of The Christian
Monitor; The British Patriot; The Fireside Com-
panion." I look back upon this division of subjects
as a mistake. In 1832, at the commencement of my
editorship of "The Penny Magazine," Dr. Arnold
wrote to Mr. W. Tooke, the Treasurer of the Useful
Knowledge Society, to speak in terms of somewhat
extravagant commendation of a short article on
Mirabeau which I had written; and to express his
Q 2
244
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VI.
opinion that the infusion of religious feeling into the
treatment of secular subjects was far more valuable
for popular instruction than any direct exhortations.*
In “The Plain Englishman" it was perhaps essential
to our objects to have separate papers on religious
matters; but I am inclined to think that they lost
much of their usefulness by standing separate from
those of "The British Patriot" and "The Fireside
Companion." In the same way the historical and
constitutional articles of the second section would
have had a much better chance of being read if they
had been mixed up with the third miscellaneous
division. At any rate, as we soon became aware, our
Serial stood very little chance of an extensive natural
sale amongst the young and newly half-educated. A
Weekly Penny or Twopenny Sheet, such as I had
proposed in 1812, might have had a better chance of
success, but still a very small chance. I could not
have rendered it attractive by pictures, in the then
condition of wood-engraving, without a greater cost.
than the probable circulation of such a work would
have justified. The good engravers were few, and the
Art had been almost lost since the death of Bewick.
For ordinary purposes of book-illustration it was
scarcely used. "The Mirror," established about that
time, was slightly but very indifferently illustrated.
Its laudable endeavours to furnish information and
amusement, without stirring up the passions of the
people, were not crowned with any signal success.
The great artist of half a century, whose etchings
and whose designs for wood present that rare union
of truth and fancy which has made Hogarth im-
* Life of Dr. Arnold.
Ch. VI.]
245
THE FIRST EPOCH.
mortal, was at that time enlisted in the work of
political caricature, in which he was the creative
spirit whilst another gave the rough idea. When
William Hone and George Cruikshank met in 1820,
to devise "The Political House that Jack built,"
there was a veracious man present who has described
to me one of the amusing scenes of which he was a
witness. The obscure publisher of "Parodies" in
1817,-who, with his bag of books spread on the
table of the King's Bench, had done battle against
the ablest and boldest judge of the time, and had
driven him from the field,-was now a public cha-
racter. Whatever little stinging pamphlets he issued
were sure to find their way over the land. But
assurance of success was made doubly sure when he
had enlisted Cruikshank in the cause which to them
appeared resistance to oppression and vindication of
innocence. Three friends-fellow conspirators, if you
like-are snugly ensconced in a private room of a
well-accustomed tavern. Hone produces his scheme
for "
"The House that Jack built." He reads some of
his doggerel lines. The author wants a design for an
idea that is clear enough in words, but is beyond the
range of pictorial representation. The artist pooh-
poohs. The bland publisher is pertinacious, but not
dictatorial. My friend, Alfred Fry, the most earnest,
straightforward, and argumentative of men, is no
greater judge of the limits of Art than the man who
had the best of the discussion with Lord Ellen-
borough but cannot vanquish or convince George
Cruikshank. "Wait a moment," says the artist. The
wine-perhaps the grog-is on the table. He dips
his finger in his glass. He rapidly traces wet lines
on the mahogany. A single figure starts into life.
246
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VI.
Two or three smaller figures come out around the
first head and trunk-a likeness in its grotesqueness.
The publisher cries "Hoorah." The looker-on is
silent after this rapid manifestation of a great power.
A pen-and-ink sketch is completed on the spot. The
bottle circulates briskly or the rummers are replen-
ished. Politics are the theme, whether of agreement
or disputation. Alfred Fry quotes Greek, which
neither of his auditors understand, but that is no
matter. There is one upon whom his learning will
not be thrown away. He gets admission to the
House of Lords during the Queen's trial, and passes
on to Mr. Denman a slip of paper which contains a
sentence from Athenæus. The apt quotation appears
in the official Minutes of the Proceedings. This
recollection of Cruikshank and his friends may seem
out of place; but it is not wholly without relation to
the slow progress of my "Plain Englishman." The
violent politics of that unhappy time were all-
absorbing. The newspapers furnished the most
stimulating reading. Even Cobbett, with his denun-
ciations of boroughmongers and bank-directors, was
little heeded. The pamphlet-buyers rushed to Hone.
"The House that Jack built" ran through forty-
seven editions; “The Queen's Matrimonial Ladder,"
forty-four; "Non mi ricordo," thirty one. London,
and indeed all the kingdom, had gone mad. It
would be very long before the people would listen to
the small voice of popular knowledge, which pos-
sessed no ephemeral influence, and which was utterly
drowned in the howlings of that storm.
In such a heaving up of the crust of society by the
volcanic fires below, it was not very likely that the
benevolent optimism of our Monthly Serial would
Ch. VI.]
247
THE FIRST EPOCH.
.
produce much influence upon the peasant and the
mechanic, each designated by us as "The Plain
Englishman of the Working Classes." Looking at
the "burning fiery furnace" that we have all walked
through since that period, it seems to me something
like hypocrisy when I wrote, in 1820, of the Plain
Englishman who felt, if he could not describe, the
foundations of his respectability. But it was not
hypocrisy. I believed what I wrote when I talked
of "the happiness peculiar to the course of peaceful
labour;" of "the security which rendered him master
of his own possessions, however small;" of "the kind
look or the benevolent visit from his wealthier neigh-
bour, which cheered him in his humble station." It
certainly was not true,—as regarded the majority of
those who earned their bread by the sweat of their
brow,—that the Plain Englishman "viewed the dif-
ference of ranks without envy, convinced that, as
subjects of the same laws, sharers in the same infir-
mities, and heirs of the same salvation, the rich and
the poor of England were all equal."* I followed in
the wake of men most anxious for the welfare of the
lower classes, but who were at that time convinced
that the first and greatest object of all popular ex-
hortation was to preach from the text of St. James,
"Study to be quiet." There never was a more sound
political economist than Dr. John Bird Sumner-
never one who took a more enlarged view of the
necessity of looking at economical questions over a
wider area than that which was bounded by the
material "wealth of nations." He was amongst our
first contributors.
His "Conversations with an Un-
* "Plain Englishman," vol. i. Introduction.
248
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VI.
believer," or "Dialogues between Eusebius and Alci-
phron" may be regarded as elegant cooling mixtures
such as a timid physician might prescribe to a patient
in a burning fever. He made no attempt to grapple
stoutly with the arguments of the "Unbeliever,” as
he would probably have done with the opinions of
the "Communist." He meets the Unbeliever in the
mild persuasive spirit which was the index of his own
character-no assumption of superiority, no ana-
themas. This tone was perhaps scarcely suited to
the time; but, after all, the lessons of the Christian
teacher must win before they can convince. The
heart must be touched before the reason can be
subjected. Even the style that borders upon the
poetical may allure, and then hold captive, those,
especially the young, whom a severer logic might
repel. Taylor has probably made more converts
than Barrow. Nothing can be prettier than the
following opening of a "Conversation," as he was
returning from his parish church on Christmas-day,
and fell in with an acquaintance whom he knew to
entertain what he called free thoughts on the subject
of Revelation: "I always pity you, Alciphron, and
particularly at the present season. The air of cheer-
fulness which so generally prevails, and makes even
winter smile, must fill you with melancholy when it
reminds you of the errors of your fellow-creatures.
The village steeple, which from time immemorial has
been accustomed to proclaim the message of glad
tidings, must appear to you to usher in the reign of
superstition; since bells repeat what the hearers
think. No sight is more welcome to my eye than
that of those knots of country people, as they wind
among the hills which intercept the spire from our
Ch. VI]
249
THE FIRST EPOCH.
view, returning in family groups from the church
where their fathers and forefathers have been long
used to celebrate the assurance of God's good-will
towards men. It brings a thousand delightful asso-
ciations to my mind. You, the meanwhile, must be
inwardly lamenting such idle commemoration of the
origin of their bondage and their error. To-day, too,
the sun re-appearing after a season of unusual gloomi-
ness and severity assorts with the impressions on my
mind. The clouds and darkness which had long
shrouded the throne of God seem suddenly dispersed ;
the scene is lighted up and brightens; but yet it is
the sunshine of winter still. For you, and such as
you, who close your eyes against the light-and
many others who hate the light because their deeds
are evil,—spread a gloom over the distance, and, like
the patches of snow which lie unmelted on the hills,
remind us that it is a wintry world after all." Alci-
phron argues that Revelation is an imposture, and
that "an army of well-paid priests is leagued together
to keep up the deceit." Eusebius answers him thus:
"So you have really been persuaded by Paine and
his disciples to imagine that a Christian minister, for
the sake of lucre, imposes on the credulity of his
hearers a system of Religion which he knows to be
without foundation! I little expected an insinuation
like this from any adversary less ignorant than
Carlile, or less vulgar than Paine. But, to meet you.
here also, you forget that the benefices which engage
your well-paid army to practise this baseness, do
not average a hundred pounds per annum; you
forget how many follow their profession to their grave,
without ever obtaining one of the lowest of its prizes.
Would not the same education and the same talents,
250
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VI.
""
exerted in any other profession, ensure a much
higher reward? Depend upon it, if the clergy had no
other than a temporal inducement to maintain the
Christian faith, it would not continue twenty years.
Before our excellent contributor had finished his
career of piety and active goodness as archbishop,
he would have had a perfect experience that the
Alciphrons never point their attacks upon the well-
paid army by the example of the under-paid curate
of a hundred a year. In that great lottery the prizes
are sufficient to keep even the worldly aspirants sted-
fast, as Sydney Smith wisely and wittily argued.
And yet such a man as the late Archbishop of Can-
terbury might win the highest prize, and still be as
spiritually-minded as he was when thus writing in
his pretty parish of Mapledurham. The mildness
with which the commonplace objection is met
might have the effect of leading some, step by step,
to go deeper into the great question, glad to have
their surface doubts cleared away with a tender
hand.
The "Lectures on the Bible and Liturgy" contri-
buted to "The Plain Englishman" by Mr. Locker,
were the substance of a course of familiar Addresses
delivered by him to his shipmates on board the Ca-
ledonia, when he was Secretary of the Mediterranean
Fleet. They have been published in a separate
volume, and well deserve to hold a place in an ele-
mentary library of Christian instruction; for they are
realities. They were addressed to sailors who re-
quired no subtle arguments of doctrine to induce
them to be religious. They were plain, earnest,
affectionate. They must have touched the heart of
Poor Jack," like Dibdin's transfusion into nautical
Ch. VI.]
251
THE FIRST EPOCH.
language of Hamlet's "there's a special Providence
in the fall of a sparrow." They have passed into
oblivion. Our theology, like our novels, has become
sensational.
Amongst our intimate and constant contributors
was a scholar whose memory I regard with sincere
respect the Rev. J. M. Turner, who succeeded
Daniel Wilson as bishop of Calcutta. His papers
on the "Naval Victories" are capital summaries
of those great triumphs which kept England safe
in the midst of dangers that looked overwhelming.
When I knew him he was private tutor at Eton
to the sons of Lord Londonderry. In religion,
tolerant; in politics, almost liberal. I often met him
at Mr. Locker's table at Greenwich; and never left
him without feeling that he was a friend to make
one wiser and better. We passed into different
spheres of exertion. His last letter to me was one of
encouragement to go on with a bolder attempt at
Popular Instruction than our "Plain Englishman."
To our
"British Patriot we had a valuable contri-
butor in a personal friend-John Steer, who was
diligently studying as a pupil of Mr. Chitty. His
mastery of the principles of jurisprudence and the
practice of the courts was evidenced in his excellent
papers on "Popular Law." His valuable life was
cut short before he reached that eminence at the
Bar which seemed fairly within his power to attain.
""
For myself, I worked with hearty good will at our
Miscellany. It took me out of the region of political
controversy, for which I had no great love at any
time, and especially in times when it was very diffi-
cult to be impartial and sincere. A journalist in my
position was between the Scylla of bad government,
252
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VI.
and the Charybdis of no government. In "The
Plain Englishman" it was impossible to allude to
the necessity of any Parliamentary Reform; for the
Radical Reformers were sending their foxes all over
the country, with lighted brands at their tails, to
burn the standing corn and the vineyards and olives.
We were friends of Catholic Emancipation, and yet
we dared not advocate so vital a change without a
dread that the Church of England would lose its
anchorage. The scandalous abuses of the Irish
Church could not be spoken of; although I have
heard one of the ablest of our reverend associates
devoutly wish that the rope could be cut by which
the gallant ship towed the overladen and rotten hulk
through a perilous sea. I had to write a "Monthly
Retrospect of Public Affairs," in which the first neces-
sity was caution. For a year or more all "Public
Affairs" were seething in a witch's cauldron, with the
scum uppermost. I had to write, here and else-
where, about the Queen's trial. I said truly, "We
have restrained ourselves from the expression, almost
from the admission, of any decided conviction in this
matter." But not the less did I feel that Caroline of
Brunswick was an injured wife, although I could not
doubt that she was a depraved woman. Why, I
asked of my brother-editor, was Lord Exmouth,
unused to take part in politics, so marked in his
manifestation of a hostile feeling towards the Queen?
"We saw and heard too much in the Caledonia of
what was passing on the Italian shores. The lady
came one day on board, and was received with all
the honours due to her rank. She dined at the
Admiral's table, and left an impression that will
never be forgotten. Her talk was of such a nature
Ch. VI.]
253
THE FIRST EPOCH.
that Lord Exmouth ordered the midshipman to leave
the cabin."
<<
If much of the wide domain of domestic politics
was tabooed to us, there was a region where we could
'expatiate free,” in advocating certain social improve-
ments of whose efficacy no one now doubts. The
doubters and the adversaries of reforms which the
people might effect themselves were then a majority.
An excellent friend of my youth, who had estab-
lished an extensive practice as a surgeon in London
-John Cole-wrote several papers of this nature.
An admirable article on “Cleanliness and Ventila-
tion" suggests how little had been accomplished
twenty years before the days of Arnott, and Kay,
and Southwood Smith, and Chadwick. My friend
told a great moral truth when he said, If men are
once so far overtaken by sloth or poverty as to submit
unresistingly to the utter destitution of comfort that
attends excessive dirtiness, all sense of shame will
soon be lost, and with it all disposition to exertion."
But London then, and most other great towns, had a
very
insufficient supply of water for the preservation
of cleanliness. He spoke of the most expensive of
luxuries when he talked of the advantages of a tepid
bath once a week. The young men and women of
the present day may incline to believe that a medical
practitioner was giving very unnecessary advice,
suited only to the darkest ages, when he wrote,
"Those who can be brought to venture on so un-
heard of a thing as to wash the whole of their bodies,
will generally be induced to repeat the experiment
from the comfort it affords." The household sages of
the last years of George III. had heard that there was
"Death in the Pot;" and they were perfectly satis-
254
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch.VI.
fied that there was Death in the Bath, as a domestic
institution. "You have killed my mother," said a
good housewife of the Lake District to Miss Mar-
tineau ;—“she never had washed her feet till you
persuaded her, and this is the end on't." When
Mr. Cole was treating of Ventilation and Cleanliness,
he was setting forth some of the then neglected
“modern instances" of scientific discovery which have
come to be popular "wise saws." Yet still it is neces-
sary to preach from this text: "In the construction
of houses for the poor, the great object of ventilation
has too generally been overlooked." My friend wrote
also some capital articles on " Clothing," and "The
Management of Infants." I had myself seen some
of the miseries of badly-situated dwellings. There
was a memorable flood at Eton and the lower parts
of Windsor, in the December of 1821; Eton was
traversed in boats. Provisions were taken in at the
windows by the unfortunate persons in the upper
rooms of many a house. Looking from the North
Terrace, "the expanse below of mead and grove " was
one vast lake. In "Hints to the Cottager on the
Choice of a Dwelling," I wrote, "There are many
dangerous fevers which are produced by the vicinity
of stagnant waters; and houses which, from their site,
are constantly damp, expose those who inhabit them
to rheumatism, croup, ague, and other painful
disorders. The same effects are produced by dwell-
ing-houses which are subject to occasional inunda-
tions of rivers. We have lately seen the misery
which is produced by such a circumstance; and are
quite sure that none would be subject to the visits of
a flood if they could possibly avoid it. To be driven
in cold weather from the accustomed fireside; to
Ch. VI.]
255
THE FIRST EPOCH.
shiver in bed-rooms which have probably no grate;
to have two or three feet of water running through
the lower part of the house, destroying many things
and injuring more; and at last, when the inundation
ceases, to find the whole dwelling damp and mise-
rable for several weeks ;-this is a visitation which
no one would willingly seek."
I have now been separated for nearly forty years
from the home of my youth and my early manhood.
When I trace in various faithful records the evidence
of
my
intense local atachment to Windsor, I wonder
how I ever endured this separation. In "The Plain
Englishman" I wrote a series of simple Tales. It is
long since I looked at them; but now I am struck
with the local colour which nearly all of them exhibit.
There are personal recollections of a deeper character
associated with “The Plain Englishman." During the
summer and autumn of its first year I occupied a
cottage on the bank of the Thames. In the winter
I was settled in a house to me most interesting in its
connexion with the dim antiquity of the Castle. Its
entrance was in the smaller cloisters to the north of
St. George's Chapel, but its principal rooms were over
the great Cloister on the east of the Chapel. I
wrote here in the most charming of studies. The
organ swell, the choral harmonies, more solemn in
their indistinctness, often made me pause at my work
and throw down my pen, to surrender my thoughts to
the spiritual charm. The ceiling of this antique
room was of the most exquisite carving-so beautiful
that George Cattermole, then a young man doing
task-work for John Britton, was my guest for a day
or two, that he might preserve it in one of his charm-
ing architectural drawings. There is no fear now of
256
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VI.
its destruction, for this suite of rooms forms part
of the Chapter-House of the College of Windsor.
In 1821, I rented this unique dwelling of the Dean
and Canons. Beautiful it was, but the want of free
air made it unfit for healthful existence. Here we
had a daughter born; here we lost a son. My
dear friend Matthew Davenport Hill here passed
some happy hours with us at Christmas. Before
Easter I had to record "My First Grief." I was then,
as I am now, as little disposed as Coriolanus was, to
show my wounds in the market-place; but my feel-
ings overflowed into a paper which I printed in "The
Plain Englishman." Two sentences will be sufficient
to mark this passage in my life. "Until I had
reached my thirtieth year I had known nothing of
what I can properly term sorrow. The evils of
mortality had not begun to come home to me. The
wings of the destroying angel had rested upon the
dwellings of my neighbours; but death had never yet
crossed my threshold, and sickness seldom. I had
heard the voice of misery like the mutterings of a
distant storm; but the thunder had not yet burst
over my head—I had not covered my eyes from the
passing lightning." "I now knew, for the first
time, what it is to have death about our hearths.
The excitement of hope and fear in a moment passes
away; and the contest between feeling and reason
begins, with its alternation of passion and listless-
ness. It is some time before the image of death
gets possession of the mind. We sleep, perchance,
amidst a feverish dream of gloomy and indistinct
remembrances. The object of our grief, it may
be, has seemed to us present, in health and
animation. We wake in a struggle between the
Ch. VI.]
257
THE FIRST EPOCH.
shadowy and the real world; and we require an
effort of the intellect to believe that the earthly part
of the being we have loved is no more than a clod
of the valley."
>>
"The Plain Englishman was closed, upon the
completion of the third volume, in December,
1822. I may incidentally mention, as a curious
fact, that the title of one of our articles of that year
anticipated the identical name of the Society which,
in 1827, was enabled to accomplish much that I had
dreamt of (and a great deal more), in my beginnings
of Popular Literature. That paper was headed,
DIFFUSION OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE.”*
* Plain Englishman, vol. iii., p. 277.
VOL. I.
成
​CHAPTER VII.

N the 13th of June, 1820, I received an
offer, conveyed to me in confidence by my
zealous friend Mr. Locker, to become the
Editor and part Proprietor of a London.
Weekly Paper, "The Guardian." The tone of my poli-
tical opinions had been collected from the "Retrospect
of Public Affairs" in "The Plain Englishman." The
violence of political agitation appeared to be fast sub-
siding. Some of the physical-force Reformers were in
prison. The miscreants who had contemplated assassi-
nation as a cure for political evils were hanged. There
was only one chance of a convulsion. The Queen,
contrary to all reasonable expectation, had landed at
Dover, and on the 6th of June had entered London
amidst the shouts of thousands. On that evening a
Message from the King was presented to the Lords
and Commons, and a green bag was laid on the table
of each House, containing papers respecting the
conduct of Her Majesty when abroad, which the King
had thought fit to communicate to Parliament.
When I entered upon my new editorial duties at the
end of the month, the hope was at an end which
wise men of all parties had entertained, that a com-
promise would avert the scandal and danger of a
public inquiry. Through July, after the Secret
Committee of the House of Lords had made its
Report, and a Bill of Pains and Penalties was read
Ch. VII.]
259
THE FIRST EPOCH.
up
a first time, the mob excitement of London was such
as few had before witnessed. When the Queen took
her residence at Brandenburgh House on the 3rd
of August, there began a series of processions, from the
extreme East to the extreme West, that manifested
at once the energy and the folly of democracy in its
wildest hour of excitement. Often riding to Windsor
have I been detained by the impossibility of passing
through an army of working men, with bands, and
banners, and placards, headed by deputations of their
several committees with wands of office-all terribly
in earnest-all perfectly convinced of the Queen's
immaculate purity-all resolved that oppression
should not triumph-a peaceful multitude, but one
that in any other country would have seemed the
herald, if not the manifestation, of Revolution. In
the fierce battle of journalism which was then fought
throughout the year, I was not called upon for a
declaration of extreme opinions.
If such a course
had been insisted upon I should have resigned my
charge. I wrote to my co-proprietor, when it was
suggested that a stronger tone ought to be adopted
with regard to the Queen, "I can only say that I feel
confident that the language of moderation ought to
be most aimed at, as the likeliest to prevent the exist-
ing ferment increasing into a state of perpetual
division and anarchy." This was written at the end
of November; when, although the Government had
terminated this unhappy contest, the political animo-
sities that had grown up with it were raging in a
flood of personality such as had never before
disgraced the Press of England. The "Guardian"
had not flourished under the gross mismanagement
of its early career, nor under my too conscientious
R 2
260
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VII.
Gladly did I
Bull, which,
obtained an
interpretation of the duties of a journalist. I became
its sole proprietor upon easy terms.
leave the rough work of party to John
established in December, 1820, soon
influence which was earned by something more than
its cleverness. A year after, in both the papers
which I then conducted, I expressed my opinion of
the danger and disgrace of the prevailing tone of the
"public instructors." This opinion is perhaps worth
transcribing, as affording a contrast between the
London newspapers' of 1821-with a fourpenny
stamp, paying a duty of 3s. 6d. on every advertise-
ment, printed on heavily-taxed paper, hemmed round
by all imaginable safeguards against libel-and the
newspapers of 1863, with no stamp whatever and
no advertisement-duty, paying no tax upon paper,
fettered by no securities; between the London
newspapers whose aggregate circulation in one week
was about a quarter of a million, and the news-
papers that upon a moderate estimate may be held
to circulate five millions weekly. In the country
newspapers the contrast is perhaps still greater.
Much as I believed in the regenerating power of the
Press, I could scarcely have imagined that some
distant age of cheapness would have been an age
when the impure, seditious, violent, intolerant, and
libellous writer would have become a rare exception
amongst journalists. Nevertheless, I rightly con-
sidered that out of the increase of knowledge
amongst the people would arise a better spirit of
journalism; which, in its turn, would become one
of the most efficient instruments of education.
Thus I wrote in 1821: “A general view of the
influence of the Press would lead us to judge that
Ch. VII.]
261
THE FIRST EPOCH.
very much of that influence is injurious to the safety
of the Government; opposed to the happiness of the
people; and destructive of that real freedom of
thought and writing upon which the glory and pros-
perity of England have been built. But we believe
that a great deal of the evil will cure itself. It is
the half-knowledge of the people that has created
the host of ephemeral writers who address themselves
to the popular passions. If the firmness of the
Government, and, what is better, the good sense of
the upper and middle classes who have property at
stake, can succeed for a few years in preserving
tranquillity, the ignorant disseminators of sedition.
and discontent will be beaten out of the field by
opponents of better principles, who will direct the
secret of popular writing to a useful and a righteous
purpose. But this change in the temper of the
multitude is not to be effected by borrowing the
dirty weapons of those who are engaged in stimulat-
ing them to acts of atrocity. It is not to be effected
by raking up scandalous stories against the dema-
gogues of a faction-by penetrating into the recesses
of private life to drag forth the evidence of a for-
gotten fault or an expiated folly-by pouring forth
the coarsest abuse against the principles and practice
of eminent men of adverse opinions, with a blind and
levelling fury. There is a revolutionary temper in
such ultra-publications which degrades the cause it
affects to support, and furnishes an example to the
dangerous doctrines it pretends to resist. The Black
Dwarf and John Bull are scions from the same
stock. The dictates of interest only have made the
one a pander to the passions of the little vulgar;
the other, a hunter of scandal for the vulgar great."
262
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VII.
It was time to speak out when a Society had
started up to do the work of a Censorship, in the
blindest fashion of ultra-loyal partisanship. In
March, 1821, the "Constitutional Association" was
formed, for the purpose of prosecuting printers and
publishers who went beyond what they deemed the
proper bounds of political discussion. This despi-
cable Association-despicable, however supported by
rank and wealth-saw no mischief in the gross libels
of one set of writers who professed to be the friends.
of the Government, but instituted the most reckless
prosecutions against "liberal” newspapers. The term
"liberal" had then begun to mark a certain set of
opinions which had outgrown their former title of
"jacobinical." This Association acquired the name
of "The Bridge Street Gang." After three or four
months of a hateful existence-denounced in Parlia-
ment-execrated by every man who had inherited a
spark of Milton's zeal for "the Liberty of Unlicensed
Printing" this Association was prosecuted for
oppression and extortion. The grand jury found a
true bill against its members. They were acquitted
upon their trial; but practices were disclosed which
showed how dangerous it was for a crafty attorney
and a knot of fanatical politicians to play at attor-
ney-generalship. The true public of this country
was getting as sick of outrageous Loyalty as of
desperate Radicalism.
Looking around me at the Newspaper Press of
London, I saw very few papers that attempted to
combine the literary and the political character.
John Hunt was still the editor of "The Examiner ;'
but his brother Leigh, who had raised the critical
department of the paper to the highest eminence,
"7
Ch. VII.]
263
THE FIRST EPOCH.
might well be tired of newspaper occupation, and
was meditating the unfortunate union with Byron in
"The Liberal." John Hunt, in May, 1821, was
prosecuted for a libel on the House of Commons, and
was sentenced to two years' imprisonment.
"The
Champion," "The News," and one or two others, had
literary pretensions, but they made their criticism
little more than a vehicle for their politics. I fan-
cied there was an opening for a paper that, giving
a temperate support to the Government, might deal
with Literature in a spirit of impartiality. I panted
for a region of pure air and clear skies, lifted out of
the heat and fever of the plains, where public writers
lost all natural freedom and vigour in a constant
round of controversial dram-drinking.
I have the merit, humble as it may be, of having
created a new department of Newspaper Literature.
On the 3rd of March, 1821, "The Guardian" had the
first of a series of articles, regularly continued month
by month, entitled "Magazine-Day." This paper
opens with a glimpse of "The Row," forty-two years
since. What changes have come over the then
narrow world of Magazines! Periodical writing had
then a few able workmen, and some, rather more
numerous, of the "Ned Purdon" school. But now!
Let me copy from this paper a few sentences of what
then struck me as one of the remarkable indications
of a new "Reading Age," upon which age Coleridge
made some lumbering jokes :-"There is no bustle,
to our minds, half so agreeable as the bustle of
Paternoster Row on the last day of the month. This
is Magazine Day-the most important division in
the life of a bookseller's collector; as important as
settling day to the stock-broker, or quarter-day to
264
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VII.
the annuitant. We delight, on these memorable
mornings, to lounge through the narrow approaches
of Ave-Maria or Warwick Lanes, and then to make
a dead stop in the Paradise of Publishers-to hear
the hum of the great hive of literature-to see its
bees going forth in search of, or returning with, their
spoils. As the dusky porter, catching the rapid step
of the periodical lore which he bears, brushes past us,
we delight to speculate upon the component parts of
his burden-to estimate the relative proportions of
Blackwoods and Baldwins, of Monthlies (Old and
New), of Gentleman's and Ladies', of Belle Assem-
blées and Evangelicals. It is a special pleasure to us
to dive into some of the celebrated penetralia of the
Row, and there learn to estimate the merits of these
monthly candidates for applause, not by the beauty
of their styles, but by the bulk of their heaps." I
then described how, by these walks, I obtained pos-
session of half a dozen periodicals, and was able to
taste the fruit, not before it was ripe, but before it was
brought into the market. I had long thought, I said,
of turning this passion to account; and at length
resolved to give my readers some of the chit-chat
of Magazine Day. "With a fearless hand we will
twitch your mantles, blue, or drab, or green, ye
'Abstract and brief chronicles of the time.'
Your days of dulness are overpast. Ye are no longer
the reversionary property of the pastrycook and the
trunk-maker. Ye are well worth a regular monthly
notice; aye, and much better worth than many a
lumbering quarto." This article made a stir in "The
Trade," and before next Magazine Day, these "squires
of the moon's body" trooped into my office without
Ch. VII.}
265
THE FIRST EPOCH.
giving me the trouble of a journey to Paternoster
Row.
The new era of Magazines may be said to have
commenced in 1817. In that year "Blackwood's
Edinburgh Magazine" startled the London publishers
into a conviction that for a new generation of readers
more attractive fare might be provided than at some
of the old established restaurateurs, whose dishes
were neither light, nor elegant, nor altogether whole-
some. When Blackwood was started—apparently
without any very correct knowledge that something
was wanted in periodical literature beyond political
bitterness—the old magazines and their new rivals
had gone on without much deviation from the hack-
neyed paths in which they had first walked. The
possibility was then scarcely conceived that they
could afford to pay handsomely for contributions;
and thus their chief dependence was upon their
gratuitous correspondence. They were the vehicles
for the communication to the world of all sorts of
opinions, theological, moral, political, and antiquarian.
They were the tablets upon which the retired scholar
or the active citizen might equally inscribe their
theories or their observations, in a familiar and un-
pretending style; and they at once kept alive the
intelligence of their own generation, and formed
valuable records for succeeding eras.
In one maga-
zine, "The Gentleman's," which had lived the most
respectable of existences for nine decades, the anti-
quarians stoutly held their own. In its volumes
from 1731 there is more valuable "tombstone infor-
mation" to be found than in any other work in our
language; and this, to speak truly, is not knowledge
to be despised. The honest printer of St. John's
266
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VII.
Gate, of whom Johnson said that he scarcely ever
looked out of the window without a view to the
improvement of his magazine, had seen the births and
the deaths of many rivals. There was a "London" to
enter the lists against him when the booksellers had
discovered the value of this new lode in the mine of
literature. There was a "Monthly." There was a
"Ladies'." The old names were supposed to retain
their old influences; and so at the time of my
Magazine Day" there was a "Monthly," and there
was a "New Monthly;" there was a "London," and
there was a “Ladies'." Mr. Phillips, afterwards Sir
Richard, had revived the "Monthly" in 1796, pretty
much upon the ancient "correspondence" principle.
The "New Monthly Magazine and Universal Regis-
ter" had scarcely more ambitious pretensions, when
set up in 1814. The "London," of all the metropo-
litan magazines, was the most distinguished for its
literary excellence. It had been re-established in 1820
by Mr. Robert Baldwin, and was as often called "Bald-
win," as the Edinburgh Magazine was called "Black-
wood." A controversy between the two leading
Miscellanies, conducted with that bitterness on both
sides which was an evil characteristic of the periodical
literature of those days, when writers of all grades.
readily plunged into the waters of strife and there
wallowed like the heroes of "The Dunciad in Fleet
Ditch-led to the fatal catastrophe of the death in a
duel of Mr. John Scott, the amiable and accomplished
editor of the "London." I knew not Mr. Scott; but
in common with all who felt that the pistol was the
worst arbiter of differences, literary or political, I
deeply grieved for such an end of his career, in which
he had in various ways shed a lustre upon journalism.
""
Ch. VII.]
•
THE FIRST EFOCH.
267
In my first article of "Magazine Day,” I said, “Look-
ing at the melancholy circumstances under which the
present "London" has been brought out, we are
surprised that there is so much excellent matter in
it; and argue thence that the fatal termination of a
foolish affair will not greatly impair the future
gratification of the public in this very agreeable
miscellany."
The "Blackwood" of this period had attained a
reputation which made all successful rivalry very
difficult. "Nothing," says Mrs. Gordon, "was left
undone to spread the fame and fear of Blackwood.”
The indefatigable publisher, who, as we now learn,
was its real editor, was as careful to propitiate a
favourable opinion of his "Maga" amongst periodical
writers who admired its talent, as its great sup-
porters, Wilson and Lockhart, were ever ready for a
warfare in which no quarter was given or expected.
It was a surprise to me when I received from the
dreaded William Blackwood a letter of thanks for
"your kind and early notices of my magazine.”
Still more was I surprised when he wrote, "Permit
me to return you the author's and my own best
thanks for your splendid critique upon 'Valerius.'
Your opinion (which was the first given upon the
work) seems to be fully confirmed by the public
voice." Was this the style, I thought, in which it
was necessary for a publisher to administer small
doses of flattery to periodical critics, however humble,
for what ought only to be considered an act of justice?
In after years, occasionally coming across the cold
and proud author of "Valerius," when he had become
Editor of the "Quarterly Review," I have thought of
"the author's best thanks," &c.; and have suspected
268
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VII.
that the ultra-courteous phrase was a mere façon de
parler of the skilful charioteer who could show such a
high-mettled racer in his team. Of Professor Wilson I
could readily have believed that any cordial acknow-
ledgment of a supposed courtesy would be in accord-
ance with his genial nature. In later years, he and
I may be judged to have adopted very different
opinions upon public questions, but his hand of
kindness was always held out to me; and in his
social hour, when I first knew him, and in those
days when sorrow and sadness had impaired but not
subdued the elasticity of his nature, I had a confir-
mation of my belief, established in many instances
before and since, that a political partisan and satirist
may have the warmest heart and be capable of the
truest friendship.
In "
Blackwood" at this time was finished "The
Ayrshire Legatees," in which Galt first opened his
rich vein of observation and humour. Had that
publishing economy of the present day been then
fully established, which consists in making a work of
fiction do double service, originally as a series of
magazine papers and then as a complete work, Galt
would have spread his next venture over a dozen
numbers of the closely printed pages that had ren-
dered Buchanan's head so familiar to the Southern
public, and then have made his more dignified
appearance. The canny publisher seems to have
had some doubts of our metropolitan tastes, for he
writes to the editor of "The Guardian: "_" With
this you will receive a very singular book, which I
shall publish in a few days, 'Annals of the Parish.'
How it may be liked in England I cannot exactly
say; but I am sure it will be highly relished by all
Ch. VII.]
269
THE FIRST EPOCH.
Scotsmen, because the sketches of Scottish country
life are so true to nature." Do any of the younger
readers of the present day care to look into a book
whose chief merit is that it is " so true to nature?"
Do they care to turn to that storehouse of quiet
humour, "Sir Andrew Wylie, of that ilk," which
came in rapid succession? Perhaps some of my
Georgian-era contemporaries who are sick of sensa-
tion novels, may turn again to what afforded them
delight forty years ago. Proud as he was of the men
of genius that he had gathered around him, Mr.
Blackwood could not forego his political antipathies;
and, somewhat too confidently, fancied that the "able
editor" whom he flattered would partake them. He
wrote, “As the magazine has been so much attacked
and misrepresented by the Whig and Radical press,
I would be particularly obliged to you if you could
notice the article on 'The Personalities of the Whigs.'
I did notice it in these words: “The letter on 'The
Personalities of the Whigs' is forcible, and convincing
enough to a partizan. The object of the writer is
to prove that the Whigs commenced this species of
warfare, and that those opposed to their principles.
have a right to bring the same weapons into the field
which their enemies have so long been exclusively
permitted to employ. For our own parts, we had
rather that political contests were conducted accord-
ing to the usual rules of honourable warfare; but if
one party use catamarans and infernal machines, it
would be hard to restrict the other to simple steel
and gunpowder."
The new facilities of communication were begin-
ning to tell upon the commerce of Literature as upon
all other commerce. Railroads were yet ten years off
270
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VII.
in an undreamt-of future. But in 1821 the potent
agency of steam-packets was breaking down the
difference between Paternoster Row and Princes.
Street. On the 28th of September I was reading
"Blackwood," when the magazines of our metropolis.
were just getting on their outer garments; while
their northern brethren were quietly reposing, in
well arranged heaps, in our southern warehouses,
perfectly sleek and dry, after a happy voyage of
sixty hours. This new condition upon which com-
petition was to be carried on made the London
publishers more solicitous for the excellence, rather
than the cheap cost, of their periodical offerings to a
public that had begun to be clamorous for novelties,
and somewhat more critical than a previous gene-
ration. Unmoved amidst the general rivalry was
that staid and sober brown-coated companion of our
forefathers, who scorned the fluctuations of fashion,
and was still the Gentleman of the days of Pulteney
and Walpole. His costume was preserved as un-
changeably as that of the statue of George the Second
in Leicester Square. He still gloried in being one
of the staunchest cocked hats of the Society of
Antiquaries; knew nothing of Wellington boots or
Cossack trousers; dined at one o'clock; and if he
could have been persuaded to go to the play,
would have been at the pit-door at five, as in his
spring-time. It would have puzzled the dandyism
of the days of George the Fourth and Brummell to
have found Mr. Urban an endurable companion; but
he was eminently respectable; and no magazine
critic could honestly pass over this excellent hermit
of modern literature. One of his old companions,
"The European," was smartening up. Mr. Colburn,
Ch. VII.]
271
THE FIRST EPOCH.
not to be left behind in the periodical race, had,
in 1821, engaged Campbell to be the avowed editor
of "The New Monthly Magazine and Literary
Journal." Campbell's own lectures on poetry were
elegant and dull. His contributors had not caught
the spirit of liveliness by which even the old stock of
ideas could be successfully reproduced. The poet
made, as we then thought, a mistake in proclaiming
his acceptance of the editorial office. There is a
good deal to be argued for and against anonymous
editorship and anonymous contributorship. We then
said, and we are not quite sure that we were wrong
"His power of selection from the contributions of
his assistants must be fettered, and the freedom and
boldness of his own opinions encumbered, by a
thousand personal considerations, which ought not to
weigh, and would not have weighed, a feather in the
scale, had he preserved that best of all forms of
government in periodical literature-a secret des-
potism."
After the unhappy death of John Scott, the
"London" had passed from Mr. Baldwin into the
hands of Messrs. Taylor and Hessey. These were its
• palmy days-the days of Lamb and De Quincey; of
John Hamilton Reynolds; of Thomas Hood, whose
first introduction to the literary world was that of its
sub-editor. I wrote, in September, 1821: "We never
read anything more deeply interesting than the
Confessions of an English Opium-Eater.' We can
put implicit faith in them. They have all the cir-
cumstantial sincerity of Defoe. They are written in
a fine flowing style, in which the author is perfectly
forgotten." After the publication of two articles on
the Pleasures and Pains of Opium, the majority of
272
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VII.
their readers doubted the reality of these Confes-
sions. The author, in a letter to the editor of the
magazine, declared that the narrative contained a
faithful statement of his own experience as an Opium-
Eater, drawn up with entire simplicity, except in
some trifling deviations of dates and suppression of
names which circumstances had rendered it expe-
dient should not be published. I had ample oppor-
tunities, a few years after, of knowing how unexag-
gerated were Mr. De Quincey's statements of his
extraordinary power of taking opium, injurious indeed
to his health, but without any perceptible deterio-
ration of his wonderful intellect. Of "Elia" I was
almost extravagant in my admiration. I sometimes
ventured upon verse in my "Magazine Day," and
thus I wrote, in 1822, after speaking dispraisingly of
some articles :
"But Elia, Elia, he is half divine,
Fragrant as woodbines in the evening sun,
Fresh as the jasmines round his porch that twine,
Happy as school-boy when his task is done,
And simple as the village-maid that sings
Her bubbling song of old forgotten things."
I can scarcely understand De Quincey when he says.
of Charles Lamb, and particularly of his delightful
prose essays under the signature of Elia, that "he
ranks amongst writers whose works are destined to
be for ever unpopular, and yet for ever interesting;
interesting, moreover, by means of those very quali-
ties which guarantee their non-popularity" (De Quin-
cey's Works, 1st edit., Leaders in Literature, p. 109).
If De Quincey be right, is popularity worth having?
My life, during the period of my London editor-
ship was one of very pleasurable excitement. My
Ch. VII.]
273
THE FIRST EPOCH.
solitary musings, my morbid fancies, had reached
their term. I had ample occupation-perhaps too
much for tranquil thought. We had a branch-office
of our newspaper at Aylesbury, where the last page
of "The Bucks Gazette" was printed, whilst three
pages were supplied by the printed sheets of "The
Windsor Express." To despatch these sheets by a
special conveyance thirty miles, so as to be in time
for the due appearance of the secondary paper,
required careful organization. This I had to accom-
plish on a Saturday morning, leaving my Windsor
paper in a state fit for publication. To ride up to
London, or to mount one of the long coaches in the
afternoon, so as to be at the "Guardian" office for
new work, was my next exertion. The day had per-
haps brought forth fresh aspects of political affairs.
Often, before writing my leader, have I discussed
the great topics of the hour with two valued friends,
whose opinions were not entirely in accordance with
my own. Mounted upon stools at my editorial desk,
have Matthew Davenport Hill and John Steer (who
was my sub-editor), argued with me about the de-
linquencies and short-comings of the Government,
the necessity of Parliamentary Reform, the degrada-
tion of England in all matters of foreign policy. My
work done, we have gladly foregone all disputation,
to place ourselves under the genial presidency of the
worthy immortalized by Tennyson-"the waiter at
the Cock." In the lapse of time we gradually grew
nearer in our opinions. The world was changing.
The miserable convulsion on the subject of the
Queen was terminated by her death. Lord Castle-
reagh was no more, carrying with him a good deal
of undeserved obloquy. Canning was come back to
VOL. I.
$
274
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VII.
power. He was to inaugurate a new era of liberty
for the nations. I had access to one who was at that
time Canning's political adherent upon the subject
of Catholic Emancipation, and that of the pretensions
of a Congress to decide upon the destinies of Europe.
Mr. John Wilson Croker was always ready to give
me his opinions, as I believed, honestly. They were
to a great extent liberal, as liberalism was then un-
derstood by those opposed to extreme views. He
was always glad to gossip upon subjects of literature,
and he earnestly counselled me to settle in London
as a publisher. I am bound to say, advisedly, that
I think his character has been misrepresented; and
that the "Rigby" of "Coningsby" is an ebullition of
personal spite.
My occupation as the editor of a literary paper
necessarily made me somewhat familiar with the
aspects of the Publishing Trade of London. I gra-
dually looked at the great establishments and the
small, somewhat more closely, through my vague
desire to find a place amongst them. There was a
new world all before me "where to choose," not my
place of rest," but my sphere of action. Let me
glance back at my rough survey of this terra
incognita.
CC
Paternoster Row, and the immediate neighbour-
hood of St. Paul's Churchyard and Ave-Maria Lane,
were the principal seats of the wholesale book-trade.
At the beginning of the century, according to Mr.
Britton, "most of the tradesmen attended to their
respective shops, and dwelt in the upper part of their
houses." He had lived to see "the heads of many
of the large establishments visit their counting-
houses only for a few hours in the day, and leave
Ch. VII.]
275
THE FIRST EPOCH.
""
the working part to junior partners, clerks, and
apprentices.' The greater number of city book-
sellers did not carry on the business of publisher pur
et simple. They were factors of books for the London
collectors; they were the agents of the country
booksellers; they almost all were shareholders of
what were called Chapter Books, from the business
concerning them being conducted at the Chapter
Coffee House. If we open a book of fifty years ago,
which had become a standard work in its frequent
reprints, we find the names of twelve or twenty or
even more booksellers on the title-page. The copy-
right had probably long expired. But these share-
holders, who formed a Limited Liability Company
(not registered), were considered as the only legiti-
mate dealers, and their editions the only genuine
ones. It was long before their monopoly was broken
up by a few daring adventurers who defied these
banded hosts, and were ready to pounce upon an
expired copyright before it could be appropriated by
the large and small potentates who had parcelled
out the realms of print, with absolute exclusiveness,
in the good times before Innovation. Trade Sales,
as they were called, were frequent and general
amongst the primitive race of booksellers; at which
sales these share-books were sold, amongst other
wares, to the best bidders. The company was not
attracted by elegant banquets, such as those at which,
in later times, I have assisted as a guest and as a
host. There was a plain dinner of substantial beef
and mutton, which the bookseller ordered at an
adjacent tavern, directing what dishes should be pro-
vided to meet the number of his expected guests.
I have heard an illustrative anecdote-I do not
$ 2
276
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VII.
vouch for its truth-of one of the respectable firm
that lived under the sign of the Bible and Crown.
In the midst of family prayer he suddenly paused,
and exclaimed, “John, go and tell Higgins to make
another marrow-pudding."
The "legitimate" trade had its code of "protec-
tion,” on which it had reposed since the days of the
Tonsons and Lintots. Its system of associating many
shareholders in the production and sale of an esta-
blished work kept up its price. The retailers were
only allowed to purchase of the wholesale houses
upon certain conditions, which had the effect of
making it difficult, if not impossible, for the private
purchaser to obtain a book under the sum advertised.
No publisher had discovered that it was to his
interest that the profit of the middle-man should be
small, so that a book should be vended at the
cheapest rate. The very notion of cheap books
stank in the nostrils, not only of the ancient mag-
nates of the East, but of the new potentates of the
West. For a new work which involved the purchase
of copyright, it was the established rule that the
wealthy few, to whom price was not a consideration,
were alone to be depended upon for the remuneration
of the author and the first profit of the publisher.
The proud quarto, with a rivulet of text meandering
through a wide plain of margin, was the "decus et
tutamen" of the Row and of Albemarle Street.*
Conduit Street now and then vied in this gran-
diosity; but more commonly sent forth legions of
octavos, translated from the French with a rapidity
that was not very careful about correctness or elegance
* The Albemarle Street of Mr. Murray is still famous. The
Conduit Street of Mr. Colburn is no longer renowned.
Ch. VII.]
277
THE FIRST EPOCH.
-qualities which were not contemplated in the esti-
mate of the literary cost. These were the books
whose cheapness was deceptive, like the books issued
by the Number-publishers. One of these successful
tradesmen, who, although he became Lord Mayor,
was once “Thomas" the porter in an old concern for
the production of the dearest books in folio-such as
we may still find amongst the heir-looms of a humble
family in some remote village-was never solicitous
to buy an author; his great object was to buy "a
ground." "A ground" was like a milk-walk-there
were a body of customers to be transferred to the
new capitalist. He was once tempted into the em-
ployment of original authorship. When his press
one day stood still for want of a sufficient supply of
the commodity for which he had indiscreetly bar-
gained, he exclaimed, "Give me dead authors !—they
never keep you waiting for copy.'
""
The publishers of classical books were not nume-
rous. Amongst the most celebrated was Richard
Priestley, who undertook many reprints of Greek
and Roman authors and ponderous lexicons. His
career was not a successful one. In 1830, I occu-
pied for the summer a cottage near Hampstead.
My landlord, who had become rich by a bequest, had
been a sheriff's officer. "Did you know poor Dick
Priestley?" he said. "He was a good fellow. I had
him often under my lock. We were great friends;
and after I left my calling I lent him a couple of
thousand." Was a sentimental friendship ever before
or since formed under circumstances so unromantic?
Amongst the new class of publishers there were several
whose republications of standard works were as beau-
tiful as they were cheap. The names of Major and
278
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VII.
<<
Pickering are still deservedly in repute. But till
Constable started his "Miscellany," in 1827, no one
had thought it possible that an original work could
be produced in the first instance at the price of the
humblest reprint. His three-and-sixpenny volumes,
and his grand talk of "a million of buyers," made the
publishing world of London believe that the mighty
autocrat of Edinburgh literature had gone daft."
And so the Row sneered, and persevered in its old
system of fourteen-shilling octavos and two-guinea
quartos. The Circulating Library was scarcely then
an institution to be depended upon for the purchase
of a large impression, even of the most popular
Novels. Travels and Memoirs rarely then found a
place on the shelves of which fiction had long claimed
the exclusive occupation. There were Book-Clubs,
whose members aspired to be patrons of a more solid
literature; but they were far from universal. All
circumstances considered, it was extremely difficult
for one like myself, very imperfectly acquainted with
the Trade, to form a correct estimate of what number
of a new book he might venture to print. Caution
and common-sense might save inexperience from
ridiculous ventures, such as had ruined many who
fancied there were no blanks in that tempting lottery.
I had known an unhappy man, who had come into
the possession of a considerable fortune, rush into the
wildest dealings with literary schemers, who regarded
him as a whale cast upon the shore, to be cut up as.
speedily as possible. Poor fellow he was always
ready to buy he would even buy a title-page, the
more absurd the more attractive. Mumbo Jumbo,"
in the egg, was held by him cheap at a few hundreds.
I looked upon his fate as a warning. But yet I could
<<
Ch. VII.]
279
THE FIRST EPOCH.
not resist the temptation to enter upon a career of
usefulness, in which there was reputation, and pos-
sible wealth, to be won by diligence and integrity.
Not to be embarrassed with conflicting occupations,
I sold my pet "Guardian" at the end of 1822, and
in the season of 1823 I had taken my position in
Pall Mall East.
CHAPTER VIII.

HE Etonians of 1819 had set on foot a
College Magazine," which was circulated
in manuscript amongst a favoured circle
of schoolfellows. At the office of "The
Windsor and Eton Express" we printed for them a
selection from their contributions, which was entitled
The Poetry of the College Magazine." As this
pamphlet came under my view in its course through
the press, I was much struck by the exceeding beauty
of some of these compositions-striking in them-
selves, but more remarkable as the productions of
young men, who seemed to have escaped from the
classical trammels of the "Musæ Etonenses" to wear
a modern English garb with grace and freedom.
Amongst the most remarkable of these poems were
"The Hall of my Fathers" and "My Brother's
Grave." These were reprinted in the more ambi-
tious work which grew out of the manuscript
periodical.
In the latter half of September, 1820, the Eton
vacation was at an end. The proceedings against
the Queen had been suspended till the 3rd of
October. The evidence to support the Bill of Pains
and Penalties had been concluded. Gladly did I
hail the prospect of some pleasant occupation—some
relief from the routine of the filthy journalism of
that time—when, arriving from London, I found two
Ch. VIII.]
281
THE FIRST EPOCH.
youths waiting for me at my cottage by the side of
the Thames, who proposed to me to print and
publish an Eton Miscellany. The one was Walter
Blunt, the other Winthrop Mackworth Praed. There
was nothing to discuss beyond the estimate for print-
ing; for if the magazine did not pay its expenses
the deficiency was to be met by a subscription. It
was not to be a weekly essay, such as The Micro-
cosm," but a magazine of considerable size, that
might aspire to take its place amongst the best of
the monthly periodicals. On the 1st of November
appeared "The Etonian," No. I.
The remembrance of my intercourse with the two
youthful editors, and with a few of their contributors,
takes me back to a delightful passage of my working
life. I have before me the bright, earnest, happy
face of Mr. Blunt, who took a manifest delight in
doing the editorial drudgery. The worst proofs (for
in the haste unavoidable in periodical literature he
would sometimes catch hold of a proof unread) never
disturbed the serenity of his temper. To him it
seemed a real happiness to stand at a desk in the
composing-room, and laugh over the blunders which
others more experienced in the editorial craft would
have raved at as stupidity unbearable. In our print-
ing-office there was a most intelligent overseer and
reader, who soon grew into favour with the editors,
one of whom did not forget, after forty years had
passed, the man who delighted to anticipate their
wishes. The Rev. Mr. Blunt, in a letter full of his
wonted kindliness, invited me, in 1859, to his house,
and thus recalled the old days: "The fact of my
writing this from a sofa, with gout in both legs,
bespeaks the lapse of time since I used to skurry up
282 PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VIII.
tr
to Windsor to M'Kechnie, with the proofs of 'The
Etonian.'" Mr. Praed came to the printing-office
less frequently. But during the ten months of the
life of this Miscellany-which his own productions
were chiefly instrumental in raising to an eminence
never before attained by schoolboy genius similarly
exerted-I was more and more astonished by the
unbounded fertility of his mind and the readiness
of his resources. He wrote under the signature of
Peregrine Courtenay," the President of "The King
of Clubs," by whose members the magazine was
assumed to be conducted. The character of Pere-
grine Courtenay, given in "An Account of the Pro-
ceedings which led to the Publication of the 'Eto-
nian,'" furnishes no satisfactory idea of the youthful
Winthrop Mackworth Praed, when he is described as
one "possessed of sound good sense, rather than of
brilliance of genius." His "general acquirements
and universal information" are fitly recorded, as well
as his acquaintance with "the world at large." But
the kindness that lurks under sarcasm; the wisdom
that wears the mask of fun; the half-melancholy
that is veiled by levity;-these qualities very soon
struck me as far out of the ordinary indications of
precocious talent.
It is not easy to separate my recollections of the
Praed of Eton from those of the Praed of Cambridge.
The Etonian of 1820 was natural and unaffected in
his ordinary talk; neither shy nor presuming; proud,
without a tinge of vanity; somewhat reserved, but
ever courteous; giving few indications of the suscep-
tibility of the poet, but ample evidence of the laugh-
ing satirist; a pale and slight youth, who had looked
upon the aspects of society with the keen perception
Ch. VIII.]
283
THE FIRST EPOCH.
of a clever manhood; one who had, moreover, seen
in human life something more than follies to be
ridiculed by the gay jest or scouted by the sarcastic
sneer. I had many opportunities of studying his
complex character. His writings then, especially his
poems, occasionally exhibited that remarkable union
of pathos with wit and humour which attested the
originality of his genius, as it was subsequently deve-
loped in maturer efforts. In these blended qualities
a superficial inquirer might conclude that he was an
imitator of Hood. But Hood had written nothing
that indicated his future greatness, when Praed was
pouring forth verse beneath whose gaiety and quaint-
ness might be traced the characteristics which his
friend Mr. Moultrie describes as the peculiar attri-
butes of his nature--
drawing off intrusive eyes
From that intensity of human love
And that most deep and tender sympathy
Close guarded in the chambers of his heart."
The Dream of Life.
I soon had many opportunities of observing the
Praed of Eton in other relations than those of our
business intercourse. Whilst the first number of
"The Etonian" was growing into shape, I often
breakfasted with the two young editors in Mr. Blunt's
room out of the College bounds; it being then the
practice, as all familiar with Eton know, for the
scholars of the foundation to get a breakfast as they
best could from their own means, or go without.
There were sometimes three or four at this social
meal. I had perhaps been in the House of Lords,
attending the Queen's trial on the previous afternoon,
and could tell them something of the withering
284
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VIII.
eloquence of Brougham and the searching subtlety
of Copley. Praed took far more than a schoolboy's
interest in the questions of the day, and his sly or
sharp commentary would show how well he under-
stood them. To me it was a rare pleasure to have
an occasional companionship with these fresh young
men, so fearless in the expression of their opinions;
so frank in the display of their sympathies or anti-
pathies; full of the best associations of ancient learn-
ing without a particle of pedantry; quizzing each
other with the most perfect good temper; passing
rapidly from an occasional argument of mock solem-
nity to talk of their theatre in Datchet Lane, and
"the best bat in the school"—these blithe spirits,
some of whom, in after years, might be wrangling at
Nisi Prius, or struggling in the muddy waters of
party politics. Upon these Eton days Praed looked
lovingly back in verses which he wrote for me when
he had taken his place in the great world :-
"I wish that I could run away
From house, and court, and levee,
Where bearded men appear to-day
Just Eton-boys grown heavy;
That I could bask in childhood's sun,
And dance o'er childhood's roses;
And find huge wealth in one pound one,
Vast wit in broken noses;
And play Sir Giles at Datchet Lane,
And call the milk-maids houris ;—
That I could be a boy again,
A happy boy at Drury's.
London Magazine, 1829.
A boy such as Praed, who possessed his genius,
and was not possessed by it (as I once heard the
great Coleridge say in comparing the peculiarities of
Ch. VIII.]
285
THE FIRST EPOCH.
two young men), was sure to be happy at Eton. He
was in every respect the opposite, in certain qualities
which may be called physical rather than intellectual,
to another contributor to "The Etonian." William
Sidney Walker was in 1820 a Fellow of Trinity Col-
lege. I had no acquaintance with him till the end
of 1822, but I saw a great deal of him in after years,
both at Cambridge and in my family circle. I may
say that I never beheld in any man, even of the lowest
ability, such a striking example of the every-day
want of “decision of character "—that most valuable
quality, which is the subject of one of Foster's inte-
resting "Essays." Irresolute, even in the most trivial
actions of life; hesitating in the utterance of the
commonest colloquial forms; utterly incapable of
sustaining a share in conversation even amongst his
familiar friends-Sidney Walker was inferior to very
few in some of the higher qualities of genius-second
to none in a marvellous power of memory-and,
having won his Fellowship by his brilliant scholar-
ship, might have left an imperishable reputation, if
his will had been sufficiently strong to counteract the
morbid tendencies of his feelings. As an Eton boy,
there was no one in the school who had given such
an early promise of poetical ability, apart from his
school studies. At seventeen, his epic poem of "Gus-
tavus Vasa" was published by subscription. And
yet this wonderful boy was the subject of the direst
persecution by the common herd of his schoolfellows.
Mr. Moultrie, who was his junior by four years, has,
in a beautiful Memoir prefixed to Walker's “Poetical
Remains," described him at Eton as flying for refuge
from his tormentors, even into the private apart-
ments of the assistant-masters. Another friend, Mr.
286
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VIII.
Derwent Coleridge, alludes to this victim of school-
boy-tyranny, as "one of the very largest natural
capacity, whose whole moral and intellectual nature
had been dwarfed and distorted by the treatment he
received at school." Mr. Walker had a profound
admiration for female loveliness, and yet he induced
no sentiment but pity in his grotesque approaches to
ladies, and his extraordinary modes of testifying his
devotion. When one of the most beautiful, as well
as the most gifted, women of her time appeared at a
public ball at Cambridge, he peered into her face, and
clapped his hands in an ecstasy of delight. "It was
the joy of the savage," said Macaulay, "when he first
sees a tenpenny nail." His admiration was too deep
for words. I once, however, witnessed a demonstra-
tion at a social meeting of his friends at Trinity,
which took every one by surprise. The wine was
passing round, when he suddenly jumped upon a
chair, and flourishing his glass, exclaimed, "The
Greeks!" The introduction of the toast by the most
brilliant harangue of Macaulay, who was present,
could not have produced a more profound sensation.
Incapable as he was of expressing it, there was a
tenderness in Walker's appreciation of the pure and
beautiful in Women, as there was of loftiness in his
estimate of the heroic in Nations. If the author of
"The Lover's Song," in "The Etonian," could have
spoken as he wrote, his terror of a life of perpetual
celibacy as the Fellow of a College might have been
happily ended, in spite of his slovenly dress, his
pirouetting walk, his want of the outward attributes
of manliness. When "the toils of day are past and
done,” and he invokes the image of his "lost, remem-
ber'd Emily," few passages of the best amatory lyrics
Ch. VIII.]
287
THE FIRST EPOCH.
may compare with four lines of this exquisite little
poem :-
"Too solemn for day, too sweet for night,
Come not in darkness, come not in light;
But come in some twilight interim
When the gloom is soft and the light is dim.”
Mr. Praed and Mr. Moultrie were the life-long
friends of this unhappy man. Praed made the most
noble exertions to clear off his debts, and to place
him above actual want, when he had lost his Fellow-
ship from his honest scruples as to taking Orders,
bewildered as he ever was by his habitual scepticism
on all subjects. Moultrie cherished him living, and
he has done justice to his memory when dead-
touching lightly upon his foibles-lamenting over
the "shapeless wreck" of a lost mind-
"by what mysterious bane
Of physical or mental malady
Disorder'd, none can tell."
Dream of Life.
Let me turn to Mr. Moultrie himself, as a contri-
butor to "The Etonian."
"My
In the collected edition of "Poems by John Moul-
trie," amongst the "Poems composed between the
years 1818 and 1828," there are found those most
touching and graphic lines which first gave assurance
to the world of his rare qualities as a poet.
Brother's Grave" is one of those outpourings of the
heart that never fail to command human sympathy.
The two longer poems in "The Etonian," of "Godiva"
and "Maimoune," are not reprinted in this collection.
When, in 1837, Mr. Moultrie was looking back upon
the productions of 1820, he might probably have
288
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VIII.
considered that the occasional levities of the young
student of nineteen might scarcely be deemed fit for
republication by the clergyman of six-and-thirty.
Yet it is to be regretted that these poems should not
have been preserved, other than as a portion of a
Miscellany now scarce and little known. The same
minute and careful excisions which have been be-
stowed upon the long poem of "Sir Launfal" (the
"La Belle Tryamour" of " Knight's Quarterly Maga-
zine") might have given these two productions a
wider celebrity. The two or three fragments which
are republished offer no adequate idea of the more
than cleverness of these early poems. In the stanzas
which tell the well-known story of the gentle lady of
Coventry, there are passages of rare beauty, which
may justly compete with the "Godiva" of Tennyson,
written ten years afterwards. Maimoune" is more
unequal; and there are occasional licences in it
which now would call up frowns from some, which
might have been smiles forty years ago. But the
author may justly claim never to have written a
verse that was really corrupting, even in the un-
pruned luxuriance of his spring-time. Looking back
upon his Eton experiences he describes his chief
poetical characteristics :-
(<
"If my song
Hath ever found its way to gentle hearts,
"Twas by the nurture and development
Of dormant powers, then first and only found,
That its wild notes were fashioned to express
A natural tenderness."
Dream of Life.
Henry Nelson Coleridge was in 1820 a scholar of
King's College, Cambridge. At the time when he was
Ch. VIII.]
289
THE FIRST EPOCH.
a contributor to "The Etonian" he had given evidence
of his great abilities and scholarship, by winning two
of Sir William Brown's medals-one for the Greek
ode and one for the Latin ode. His poetical faculty,
although not of a common order, was less remarkable
than his literary taste. The nephew of Samuel
Taylor Coleridge, his admiration of those who were
then sneered at as 'the Lake School" was only
natural. But it required some courage in the young
critic to stand up to defend Wordsworth and Cole-
ridge from that never-ceasing ridicule of the Edin-
burgh Reviewers, which, it appears, was in some
favour at Eton. He did more than this. He
endeavoured to explain and illustrate Wordsworth as
a very singular and peculiar poet, quite set apart
from the troop of every-day metrists, and living and
breathing in a world of his own. When Wordsworth
was then spoken of as a great poet, the ordinary
question was, "Why is he not more popular?" The
process through which public opinion gradually turns
from an ephemeral popularity, permanently to repose
upon works of imagination that are not extravagant
stimulants, is admirably illustrated by his own expe-
rience:-"I remember distinctly, when 'Lalla Rookh'
first came out, I read it through at one sitting. To
say I was delighted with it is a poor word for my
feelings; I was transported out of myself-entranced,
or what you will. The men did not appear to me
half fierce and beautiful enough, and the women had
nothing in their eyes at all like those of the gazelle ;
—not to mention that the flowers were very meagre,
and the wind cold, and the chapel-organ out of tune,
and 'the blessed Sun himself' but a poor substitute
for the god of the Guebres. This seems extravagant,
VOL. I.
T
290
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VIII.
and yet I believe that many a young heart has felt
nearly the same, if those feelings were uttered.
Well-after a few days it occurred to me as some-
thing very odd that I had no patience now with old
Homer, or Virgil, or even Milton, and scarcely with
Shakspere ;—they were not transporting enough.
This made me reflect upon the causes which could
work such a revolution in me; for I used to think
the aforesaid poets the very first in their lines, and
lo! now a greater than they had swept them out of
my favour! After the cooling interval of three weeks
I sat down to read this book again--but oh! 'quan-
tum mutatus ab illo Hectore!' I cannot describe
my feelings, but suffice it to say, the potent charm
had vanished; but still I was bewitched in a minor
degree by the glare and dazzle of the scenery and
the music of the versification. Will you believe me,
that a whole year afterwards I read this same book a
third time; and then I felt and knew, as all will feel
and know who will take the trouble of making the
experiment, that the only parts of the work that are
worth a farthing are precisely those which are the
simplest, the most plain, and free from the beauties of
the author, and which, on that very account, I, on my
first acquaintance with him, disliked or neglected.”
Henry Coleridge, by his republication of "The
Friend," and other materials for a proper estimation
of his illustrious uncle's labours, testified in his
maturer years a profound admiration of his character
as a philosopher and a critic. But the Cambridge
scholar, while regarding him as the greatest poetical
genius of that day, does not hesitate to ask, "Where
are we to find in Mr. Coleridge's philosophy that
solid, sensible ground upon which we may venture to
Ch. VIII.]
291
THE FIRST EPOCH.
build up an abiding-place for our doubts and our
desires?" Such are the changes which years produce
in every mind in which the process of educating
itself is always going on.
There were altogether fifteen contributors to "The
Etonian." I have mentioned the more prominent.
But there was no one who, in the extent and variety
of his articles, approached Mr. Praed. They occupy
more than a fourth of the whole Miscellany. His
prose contributions are far less striking than his
poetical. His verse bore a remarkable resemblance
to his handwriting. It was the most perfect cali-
graphy I ever beheld. No printer could mistake a
word or letter. It was not what is called a running-
hand, and yet it was written with rapidity, as I have
often witnessed. Such, too, was the flow and finish
of his compositions. In the poems which earliest
appeared in "The Etonian" we scarcely trace that
peculiar vein which peeps out in his later verse in
the same work. And yet these first of a numerous
series are essentially different from the common run
of classical imitations or juvenile sentimentalities.
"The Eve of Battle" is an example. Eighteen hun-
dred and twenty was sufficiently nigh the year of
Waterloo to have suggested recollections of many an
Etonian who there fell. For those who closed their
career in the Crimea there is a memorial-window at
Eton. Praed's poem is most probably a memorial,
in some particulars, of real persons who had left
memories of their happy boyhood. Yet how strik-
ingly has he varied their characters! There, is "the
beau of battle;" there, is the would-be poet, who
"on the fray that is to be" is writing "a Dirge or
Elegy;" there, is "the merriest soul that ever loved
T 2
292
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VIII.
the circling bowl;" there, is "Etona's wild and way-
ward son" who will "break Frenchmen's heads,
instead of Priscian's;" there, is "Sir Matthew Chase,"
in whose dreams "blood and blood-horses smoke by
turns." How unlike the thoughts of eighteen is the
description of a youth who was "all by turns, and
nothing long:"-
"A friend by turns to saints and sinners,
Attending lectures, plays, and dinners,
The Commons' House, and Common Halls,
Chapels of ease, -and Tattersall's;
Skilful in fencing and in fist,
Blood-critic-jockey-methodist;
Causeless alike in joy-or sorrow,
Tory to-day and Whig to-morrow,
All habits and all shapes he wore,
And lov'd, and laugh'd, and pray'd, and swore.
29
In the eighth Number of "The Etonian," Praed
found out his forte of poetical narrative, in which the
legendary stories of the old Romances are told with
touches of wit and humour, far more effective than
the coarse burlesque of such forgotten modernizations
as "The Dragon of Wantley." As an example of
his clever management of antithetical images take
these lines of “Gog:"
"Oh! Arthur's days were blessed days,
When all was wit, and worth, and praise;
And planting thrusts and planting oaks,
And cracking nuts and cracking jokes,
And turning out the toes and tiltings,
And jousts, and journeyings, and jiltings.
Lord! what a stern and stunning rout
As tall Adventure strode about,
Rang through the land; for there were duels
For love of dames and love of jewels;
And steeds that carried knight and prince
As never steeds have carried since ;
Ch. VIII.]
293
THE FIRST EPOCH.
And heavy lords and heavy lances;
And strange unfashionable dances ;
And endless bustle and turmoil,
In vain disputes for fame and spoil.
Manners and roads were very rough ;
Armour and beeves were very tough ;
And then-then brightest figures far
In din or dinner, peace or war—
Dwarfs sang to ladies in their teens,
And giants grew as thick as beans!"
Mr. Praed left Eton for Trinity College at the
summer vacation of 1821. In his parting poem of
'Surly Hall" he thus apostrophizes Eton :
((
"A few short hours, and I am borne
Far from the fetters I have worn;
A few short hours, and I am free!
And yet I shrink from liberty;
And look, and long to give my soul
Back to thy cherishing control.
Control! ah, no! thy chain was meant
Far less for bond than ornament;
And though its links be firmly set,
I never found them gall me yet.
Oh! still, through many chequer'd years,
'Mid anxious toils, and hopes, and fears,
Still I have doted on thy fame,
And only gloried in thy name.
In Mr. Moultrie's "Maimoune," of the same conclud-
ing Number of "The Etonian," he half seriously
alludes to the approaching privation of that vehicle
for his poetical effusions which had grown out of the
manuscript "College Magazine" which he conducted.
"Sweet Muse," he says,
"'Tis a sad bore to have thy fancies pent
Within my brain-all joys of printing flown—
No praise my dear anonymous state to sweeten,
And all because some folks are leaving Eton."
294
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. VIII.
In the concluding Number of "The Etonian" the
list of fifteen Contributors is signed, as Editors, by
"Walter Blunt, Winthrop Mackworth Praed." In a
parting address, Peregrine Courtenay thus gracefully
records his obligations to his editorial coadjutor:
“Most of all, I have to speak my feelings to him,
who, at my earnest solicitations, undertook to bear
an equal portion of my fatigues and my responsi-
bility,—to him, who has performed so diligently the
labours which he entered upon so reluctantly,—to
him, who has been the constant companion of my
hopes and fears, my good and ill fortune,-to him,
who, by the assiduity of his own attention, and the
genius of the contributors whose good offices he
secured, has ensured the success of 'The Etonian.'
Deeply did I regret my separation from two
or three with whom an intimacy had grown up,
which, in spite of the differences of ages and pur-
suits, was something higher than the cold inter-
course of business. Some months had passed away.
Mr. Praed was now a Brown's medallist for the
Greek ode and for Epigrams. In December,
1822, I received from him a letter which materially
influenced my determination to enter upon a new
career: “I shall labour in no periodical vocation
until you publish one in which I can be of service
to you; and divers other Etonians long to hear
of your happy establishment in town." I spent
a week most pleasantly at Cambridge. I was wel-
comed by a knot of young men who belonged, as
one of them has described, to
a generation nobler far
Than that which went before it-more athirst
For knowledge-more intent on loftiest schemes
Ch. VIII.]
295
THE FIRST EPOCH.
And purposes of good-and if more prone
To daring speculation-apt to tread
More venturous paths-yet purer from the stain
Of gross and sensual vice.”
The Dream of Life.
In addition to those I had previously known in con-
nexion with "The Etonian," I was introduced to Mr.
Derwent Coleridge, Mr. Malden, and Mr. Macaulay.
It was a cold and wet season, but I was well pleased
to wander with such intelligent guides amongst those
venerable buildings, which had then lost little of
their antique character; to look into libraries and
museums; to see something of the observances of
College life, in prayers at Chapel and dinners in
Hall; to ride to Ely along slushy causeways, which
were in parts flooded by the waters of the fens, with
baby-windmills striving to keep them down. In
the mornings there were pleasant breakfasts and
luncheons; in the evenings cheerful wine-parties,—
and sometimes the famous milk-punch of Trinity
and of King's. But there was no excess. Amongst
my enjoyments the general plan of "Knight's
Quarterly Magazine" was settled.
CHAPTER IX.

HE title of our projected work had not been
decided when contributions reached me,
sufficient in number and quality to indi-
(6
cate that my Cambridge friends were
thoroughly in earnest. The English Magazine
was rather a favourite name with us. I scarcely
recollect how "Knight's Quarterly Magazine" was
adopted; but there appears to have been no doubt
upon the point when Mr. Praed sent me his opening
article, called "Castle Vernon." A very singular
paper it was, quite removed from the ordinary tone
of what Leigh Hunt has somewhere designated as
the most amiable but least interesting part of a book.
The only prospectus which I issued was an extract
from this eccentric Introduction :
"To the Lady Mary Vernon, the Mistress of all
Harmony, the Queen of all Wits, the Brightest
of all Belles, we, the undersigned, send
greeting:
"We, the undersigned, are a knot of young men,
of various forms and features-of more various talents
and inclinations; agreeing in nothing, save in two
essential points—a warm liking for one another, and
a very profound devotion for your Ladyship.
"Some of us have no occupation.
"Some of us have no money.
Ch. IX.]
297
THE FIRST EPOCH.
"Some of us are desperately in love.
"Some of us are desperately in debt.
(C
(C
'Many of us are very clever, and wish to convince
the Public of the fact.
Several of us have never written a line.
Several of us have written a great many, and
wish to write more.
"For all these reasons, we intend to write a Book.
"We will not compile a lumbering quarto of Tra-
vels, to be bound in Russia, and skimmed in the
Quarterly, and bought by the country book-clubs ;-
nor a biting Political Pamphlet, to be praised by
everybody on one side, and abused by everybody on
the other, and read by nobody at all;—nor a Philo-
sophical Essay, to be marvelled at by the few, and
shuddered at by the many, and prosecuted by His
Majesty's Attorney-General ;-nor a little Epic
Poem in twenty-four books, to be loved by the
milliners, and lauded in the Literary Gazette,' and
burnt by your Ladyship.
"But a Book of some sort we are resolved to write.
We will go forth to the world once a quarter, in high
spirits and handsome type, and a modest dress of
drab, with verse and prose, criticism and witticism,
fond love and loud laughter; everything that is light
and warm, and fantastic, and beautiful, shall be the
offering we will bear; while we will leave the Nation
to the care of the Parliament, and the Church to the
Bishop of Peterborough. And to this end we will
give up to colder lips and duller souls their gross and
terrestrial food; we will not interfere with the saddle
or the sirloin, the brandy-bottle or the punch-bowl;
-our food shall be of the spicy curry and the glisten-
ing champagne; our inspiration shall be the thanks
298
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IX.
of pleasant voices, and the smiles of sparkling eyes.
We grasp at no renown-we pray
we pray for no immortality;
but we trust, that in the voyage it shall be our destiny
to run, we shall waken many glowing feelings, and
revive many agreeable recollections; we shall make
many jokes and many friends; we shall enliven our-
selves and the public together; and when we meet
around some merry hearth to discuss the past and
the future, our projects, and our success, we shall
give a zest to our bottle and our debate by drinking
a health to all who read us, and three healths to all
who praise."
""
Twenty-five signatures followed this address to
"the idol before whom they were to prostrate their
hearts and their papers." Some eight or ten of these
noms de guerre clung to the real men during their
connexion with the Magazine. Take as the more
distinguished examples :-
PEREGRINE COURTENAY
•
VYVYAN JOYEUSE
GERARD MONTGOMERY.
DAVENANT CECIL
TRISTRAM MERTON.
EDWARD HASELFOOT
HAMILTON MURRAY
JOSEPH HALLER.
•
WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED.
JOHN MOULTRIE.
DERWENT COLERIDGE.
THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY.
WILLIAM SIDNEY WALKER.
•
•
HENRY MALDEN.
HENRY NELSON COLERIDGE.
Peregrine Courtenay was the signature of Praed in
"The Etonian." Vyvyan Joyeuse was the one he
adopted for his gay and laughing moods in the
"Quarterly Magazine." The name was in accord-
ance with the description of him who bore it, when
he was called up to explain to Lady Mary and her
coterie the meaning of the address which had been
presented to her: "You shall call nobody but me,'
Ch. IX.]
299
THE FIRST EPOCH.
cried a shrill voice; you shall call nobody but me,
Vyvyan Joyeuse!' And immediately a whimsical
apparition leaped with an opera step into the front of
the battalia; a tall thin youth, with long sallow fea-
tures; thick brown hair curled attentively, and small
gray eyes. He threw a quick shifting glance upon
his auditors, and then, dangling the ribbon of his
glass with both hands, stood prepared for his in-
terrogator." Christopher North introduced Vyvyan
Joyeuse into his "Noctes," when he described the
Magazine as “a gentlemanly Miscellany, got together
by a clan of young scholars, who look upon the world
with a cheerful eye, and all its on-goings with a spirit
of hopeful kindness." There is another portrait
drawn by Praed, in which, as in many sketches ap-
proaching to caricature—such as those of H. B. forty
years ago—we may trace the best likenesses of emi-
nent men who lived on into another generation:
66 C
Tristram Merton, come into court.' There came
up a short manly figure, marvellously upright, with
a bad neckcloth, and one hand in his waistcoat-
pocket. Of regular beauty he had little to boast;
but in faces where there is an expression of great
power, or of great good humour, or of both, you do
not regret its absence.
They were glorious days,' he said, with a bend,
and a look of chivalrous gallantry to the circle around
him, 'they were glorious days for old Athens when
all she held of witty and of wise, of brave and of
beautiful, was collected in the drawing-room of
Aspasia. In those, the brightest and the noblest
times of Greece, there was no feeling so strong as the
devotion of youth, no talisman of such virtue as the
smile of beauty. Aspasia was the arbitress of
peace
300
[Ch. IX.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE :
and war, the queen of arts and arms, the Pallas of
the spear and the pen: we have looked back to those
golden hours with transport and with longing. Here
our classical dreams shall in some sort wear a dress of
reality. He who has not the piety of a Socrates,
may at least fall down before as lovely a divinity;
he who has not the power of a Pericles may at least
kneel before as beautiful an Aspasia.'
"His tone had just so much earnest that what he
said was felt as a compliment, and just so much
banter that it was felt to be nothing more. As he
concluded he dropped on one knee, and paused.
"Tristram,' said the Attorney-General, 'we really
are sorry to cramp a culprit in his line of defence ;
but the time of the court must not be taken up. If
you can speak ten words to the purpose-
I have an arduous
circle, like the poor
must be frozen into
"Prythee, Frederic,' retorted the other, 'leave
me to manage my own course.
journey to run; and, in such a
prince in the Arabian Tales, I
stone before I can finish my task without turning to
the right or the left.'
"For the love you bear us, a truce to your
similes: they shall be felony without benefit of
clergy; and silence for an hour shall be the penalty.'
"A penalty for similes! horrible! Paul of
Russia prohibited round hats, and Chihu of China
denounced white teeth; but this is atrocious!
CC C
I beseech you, Tristram, if you can for a moment
forget your omniscience, let us——
"I will endeavour. It is related of Zoroaster,
that
Others of the "knot of young men-of various
forms and features, of more various habits and incli-
Ch. IX.]
301
THE FIRST EPOCH.
<<
nations," were called before "the Mistress of all
Harmony." There was Cecil, of whose character no
idea could be conveyed in the compass of a few lines,
except that which will be naturally associated with
a highly-flushed cheek, and a magnificent forehead,
and thick black hair." There were others whose
names figured in the address who were not called at
all. Mr. Peregrine Courtenay "having said a few
words in kind remembrance of his quondam passages
with Mr. C. Knight," it was resolved that "the most
entertaining publication of the day be immediately
set on foot, under the title of 'Knight's Quarterly
Magazine." But there was no chance of coming to
a conclusion upon the question, "who was to edite
the work?" The publisher drifted into the editor-
ship, much against his will; but if his anomalous
power had its pains, it had also its pleasures.
There is perhaps no happiness of the editorial life
equal to that of first reading the manuscript of a con-
tributor in which original genius is so manifest that
none but a blockhead would venture upon an altera-
tion. I have, however, seen a little of such block-
heads in my day-real live editors, obtuse and
prosaic as the mysterious Mr. Perkins of the Shak-
spere folio. Very early amongst the contributions
came "La Belle Tryamour," which Mr. Moultrie
described as "the threatened Beppo," which, if
I thought it too long, or had better matter to
supply its place, I was to pack off without ceremony.
I did not avail myself of the permission. One con-
tribution of no common order was at least secured.
In a week or two followed a prose contribution.
Those who do not possess, or cannot obtain-even at
such cost as that of works figuring in old catalogues
302
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IX.
as rare-the "Quarterly Magazine," which the intel-
ligent public of forty years ago did not exactly
appreciate, may find the noble "Fragments of a
Roman Tale" preserved from oblivion in the "Mis-
cellaneous Writings of Lord Macaulay." They may
also find there an article on "The Royal Society of
Literature." If they should not care to trace how
the scheme of patronage for the incubation of great
authors was mauled by one who was to take the
foremost rank amongst those who have but one
patron, the public, he may be struck with the apo-
logue that clenches the argument. "About four
hundred years after the deluge, when King Gomer
Chephoraod reigned in Babylon,—and was so popular
that the clay of all the plains round the Euphrates
could scarcely furnish brick-kilns enough for his
eulogists, at a time when all authors inscribed their
compositions on massive bricks-this beneficent
Prince was petitioned that he should take order that
his people should only drink good wine. A decree
was passed that great rewards should be bestowed
upon the man who should make ten measures of the
best wine. The examiners, assembled to judge the
wine, decided that all sent in was little better than
poison. There had been a singularly good season,
but the only bad wine was that tasted by the judges.
Who can explain this? said the King. An old
philosopher then came forward, and spoke thus :
"Gomer Chephoraod, live for ever! Marvel not at
that which has happened. It was no miracle, but a
natural event. How could it be otherwise? It is
true that much good wine has been made this year
but who would send it in for thy rewards? Thou
knowest Ascobaruch, who hath the great vineyards
Ch. IX.]
303
THE FIRST EPOCH.
in the north, and Cohahiroth, who sendeth wine every
year from the south over the Persian Gulf. Their
wines are so delicious that ten measures thereof are
sold for an hundred talents of silver. Thinkest thou
that they will exchange them for thy slaves and thine
asses? What would thy prize profit any who have
vineyards in rich soils?'
66 6
Who, then,' said one of the judges, are the
wretches who sent us this poison?'
'Blame them not,' said the sage, 'seeing that
you have been the authors of the evil. They are
men whose lands are poor, and have never yielded
them any returns equal to the prizes which the King
proposed. Wherefore, knowing that the lords of the
fruitful vineyards would not enter into competition
with them, they planted vines, some on rocks, and
some in light sandy soil, and some in deep clay.
Hence their wines are bad. For no culture or re-
ward will make barren land bear good vines. Know,
therefore, assuredly, that your prizes have increased
the quantity of bad but not of good wine.'
"There was a long silence. At length the King
spoke. 'Give him the purple robe and the chain of
gold. Throw the wine into the Euphrates; and pro-
claim the Royal Society of Wines is dissolved.'
There was another prose article by Mr. Macaulay
in the first number of the Magazine which has not
been reprinted. The evil which was there combated
with unusual energy was remedied when the young
writer, who had been bred up in the doctrines of the
school of Wilberforce to which his father belonged,
had become a legislator. It was before the days of
his political responsibility that he thus introduced
the article on "West Indian Slavery":-"We espouse
304
[Ch. IX.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
no party. Zadig himself did not listen to the memo-
rable controversy about Zoroaster and his griffins
with more composure and impartiality than we hope
to display on most of the subjects which interest
politicians. We are neutrals." To write against
Slavery seemed likely to have interested "the Clap-
ham sect" in the "Quarterly Magazine "-perhaps
to have induced them to tolerate even its occasional
levity. Painful must have been the struggle when
Macaulay felt himself compelled to secede after the
publication of the first number. But how honourable
to his memory is the letter which he addressed to me,
and which this conviction would alone induce me to
publish :-
Rothley Temple, Leicestershire,
June 20, 1823.
My dear Sir,-As I fear that it will be impossible
for me to contribute to your Magazine for the future,
I think it due to you and to myself to acquaint you,
without reserve, of the circumstances which have
influenced me.
"You are probably aware that there are among my
family connections several persons of rigidly religious
sentiments. My father, in particular, is, I believe,
generally known to entertain in their utmost extent
what are denominated evangelical opinions. Several
articles in our first number, one or two of my own in
particular, appeared to give him great uneasiness.
I need not say that I do not in the slightest degree
partake of his scruples. Nor have I at all dissembled
the complete discrepancy which exists between his
opinions and mine. At the same time, gratitude,
duty, and prudence, alike compel me to respect pre-
judices which I do not in the slightest degree share.
Ch. IX.]
305
THE FIRST EPOCH.
And, for the present, I must desist from taking any
part in the 'Quarterly Magazine.'
"The sacrifice gives me considerable pain. The
Magazine formed a connecting tie between me and
some very dear friends, from whom I am now sepa-
rated, probably for a very long time; and I should
feel still more concerned if I could imagine that any
inconvenience could result from my conduct.
"I shall probably be in London in about a month.
I will then explain my motives to you more fully.
In the meantime, I can only say that all that has
passed between us increases my regrets for the ter-
mination of our connection, and my wishes that it
may be renewed under more favourable circum-
stances.
"Let me beg that you will communicate what I
have said to nobody excepting Coleridge, Moultrie,
Praed, and Malden; and to them under the injunc
tion of secrecy.
"Believe me, my dear Sir, yours sincerely,
"T. B. MACAULAY.”
Derwent Coleridge, who has been addressed by his
bosom friend as
"A poet's child, thyself a poet born,"
Henry
contributed "Beauty, a Lyrical Poem."
Nelson Coleridge sent a paper full of deep thought
eloquently expressed, "Scibile,"-a paper which De
Quincey, writing to me some months after its publi-
cation, regarded as truly admirable. Henry Malden
furnished a graceful Italian tale, "Agostino della
Monterosa," in which the romantic superstitions of
the Middle Ages are reproduced with the complete-
TOL. I.
U
306
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IX.
ness of a full knowledge. He describes an enthusiast
whose mind was subdued by the arts of a false friend
to believe in "the secrets of the Rosy Cross, and of
those spirits of the elements who pervade all that we
hear and see and touch, although we hear them not,
and see them not, and feel them not,"-(a nobler
form of credulity, it seems to me, than a belief in
spirits whose presence is indicated by rapping and
table-lifting)—to believe in tales of unhappy spirits
lingering over graves and charnel-houses, of unquiet
tenants of the tomb; of mighty magicians. "He
pored over ancient chronicles, and read of the black
Boy who was the attendant of Julius Cæsar, and who,
though he lived many years, grew never the older ;-
of the strange knight, who came, sore spent with
travel, on a huge-boned mulberry-coloured horse, to
the court of Charlemagne; and no one knew his
name or lineage, or whence he came, yet he was ever
with the Emperor, who did nothing that he did with-
out his counsel, save when he went down to the great
battle of Roncesvalles; and the strange knight went
into the battle, and came not out of it, yet was not
his body found among the slaughtered Paladins ;
and of the deaf and dumb dwarf with the yellow
beard, who had the secret ear of the Soldan Saladin,
and went with him wherever he went, save into the
holy city of Jerusalem. On tales as wild as these he
suffered his mind to dwell with a blind and visionary
faith, and he was filled with a vague and anxious
longing for such supernatural converse." The power
displayed in this tale might almost lead one to
lament that such qualities of genius should have
merged into a life of unambitious usefulness, did we
not know that in such a life-that of the trainer
Ch. IX.]
307
THE FIRST EPOCH.
of the young to sound learning, that of a teacher
commanding obedience through love-the truest
happiness and honour are to be found.
The smaller poetical contributions of the Magazine
were to be grouped in a concluding paper, entitled,
"What you will." In the first number we have some
exquisite Sonnets by Moultrie, which have been
reprinted in his collected Poems. We have one of
Praed's charming Enigmas. We have, what no one
would expect to find, amatory verses by Tristram
Merton, who might perhaps have rivalled "Tom
Moore," had he not been born for higher things. It
is almost needless to say that there is no reprint in
"Lord Macaulay's Miscellaneous Works" of the
ballad of which we give two stanzas :——
"Oh Rosamond! how sweet it were, on some fine summer dawn,
With thee to wander, hand in hand, upon the dewy lawn,
When flowers and heaps of new-mown grass perfume the
morning breeze,
And round the straw-built hive resounds the murmur of the
bees;
To see the distant mountain-tops empurpled by the ray,
And look along the spreading vale to the ocean far away;
O'er russet heaths, and glancing rills, and massy forests green,
And curling smoke of cottages, and dark grey spires between.
"And oh! how passing sweet it were, through the long sunny day,
To gaze upon thy lovely face, to gaze myself away,
While thou beneath a mountain-ash, upon a mossy seat,
Shouldst sing a low wild song to me, reclining at thy feet!
And oh ! to see thee, in some mood of playful toil, entwine
Round the green trellice of our bower the rose and eglantine,
Still laying on my soul and sense a new and mystic charm
At every turn of thy fairy shape and of thy snowy arm !”
·
The secession of Macaulay was felt by all of us as
an almost irreparable loss. There was one of our
band whose energies were ever called forth with new
U 2
308
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IX.
vigour under pressure and difficulty. Praed had that
confidence in his own powers which is at the root of
all greatness, and which is far removed from the
vanity of mediocrity. Amidst the disappointments
which had arisen, he wrote to me to entreat that I
would not think of postponing the appearance of the
second number. "For myself, I will give night and day
to the Magazine, rather than see it so assassinated.”
He amply redeemed his pledge. He produced for
that number more than a fourth of the whole-the
first canto of his Poem "The Troubadour," and five
prose articles. My other Cambridge allies seconded
his endeavours. But I had also looked around me
amongst my own old familiar friends. Such a friend
was Matthew Hill. We had often planned literary
enterprises in concert, in the days when the young
barrister was struggling, as most lawyers have to
struggle, when the collar presses hard upon the weak
but willing horse if he be permitted to work, and
when hope deferred presses still harder when no
profitable work falls in his way. Of those times my
friend had vivid recollections, and he gave utterance
to them in "My Maiden Brief "-that paper to which
an eminent judge alluded from the bench, and nodded
kindly to the stuff gown in the back rows. Hill
contributed also a very striking picture of the
Staffordshire Collieries of that dreary country
through which I walked some thirty years after-
wards with Charles Dickens, and saw whence he
had derived one of the most telling scenes of the
wanderings of "Little Nell." But Mr. Hill's vocation
was to describe the people of this region. He thus
concludes his paper:-"I wished to preserve some
sketch, while the original is yet in existence, of a
Ch. IX.]
809
THE FIRST EPOCH.
race which refinement, that fell destroyer of charac-
ter, has hitherto spared. Soon will these be tales of
other times. The primitive simplicity even of the
collieries is threatened. Already have the eyes of
Bell and Lancaster searched out this spot of innocent
seclusion; and the voice of education will ere long
be heard above the wild untutored sounds which
have so long charmed the ears of the traveller." I
am not sure that "the voice of education" is yet
very powerful in the land where the dwellers had
"no similarity either in speech or features with the
peasantry of the neighbouring districts."
If my
friend could spare a day or two from other depart-
ments of "Social Science," it might be worth while
for him to go over the ground once more, to compare
1823 with 1863.
In this second number of the Magazine I wrote
a paper, upon which I may not improperly say a
little, as it in some measure related real incidents
of my Working Life. "An unpublished Episode of
Vathek" is reprinted in my volumes of "Once upon
a Time." Mr. Rutter, an enterprising bookseller of
Shaftesbury, had proposed to me to publish a splen-
didly illustrated work, which he was preparing, on
Fonthill, soon after the period when the wondrous
building, of which every one had some marvel to
relate but which no one had ever seen, was thrown
open to those who chose to travel over Salisbury
Plain, and pay a guinea for the long-coveted sight.
Bekfudi, says my tale, the superb merchant, had
gone on for many moons building and embellishing
his mosque, and living in a round of selfish enjoy-
ment. But gradually Bekfudi found there was a
limit to his extravagance. Bekfudi was in debt.
310
[Ch. IX.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
"He resolved to invite all Samarah to see his mosque,
and purchase his curiosities. For three moons all
Samarah went mad. Away ran the idle and the
busy to scramble up Bekfudi's tower,-to wander
about his long galleries upon carpets from Cairo,
-to touch his gold censers, or to pore upon his
curious pictures. As to his books, Bekfudi carefully
locked them up. He was a great commentator, and
his relish for theological speculations led him to fear
that his performances might introduce him to too
close an acquaintance with the mufti and the cadi."
I was amongst the curious, and had an agreeable
holiday. But some months later I went to Fonthill
to assist the worthy quaker bookseller of Shaftesbury
in getting up his quarto. Fonthill had then passed
into the possession of Mr. Farquhar, in the negotia-
tion for which purchase Mr. Phillips, the famous
auctioneer of Bond Street, was the agent. He stipu-
lated for the purchase of Fonthill and everything
which it contained: "I will purchase thy lands and
thy mosques, and thy silken draperies, and thy woven
carpets, and thy golden vessels, and thy jewels, and
thy books, and thy pictures, and all that thy palace
contains; and here, without, I have twenty drome-
daries laden with four hundred thousand sequins,
which shall be thine.' Bekfudi was in a rage, but
the eloquence of the dromedaries prevailed; and
that night the little Jew locked up the mosque with
the airs of a master." At this juncture I went to
Fonthill. Artists were there making drawings.
Journalists were there writing elaborate paragraphs,
with a slight tendency to puff. My friend Stedman
Whitwell was with me, and we rambled freely over
the American gardens, and partook of the choice
Ch. IX.]
311
THE FIRST EPOCH.
((
fruit of the hothouses, and had a sumptuous table
every day. To me the ostensible lord of the place,
the clever auctioneer, was particularly civil. The
first night I was led by him through a long corridor
apart from the saloons and galleries of this architec-
tural marvel, and was installed in a chamber of state,
where the hangings of the bed were of velvet, and
the chairs were of ebony reputed to have belonged to
Wolsey. I sat in a reverie, moralizing upon the
probable dispersion of these splendid things, when I
heard a whirr-my wax candle was suddenly extin-
guished-the bat that had dwelt in the gorgeous
draperies was hovering about me. I was glad to
creep into the downy bed. But I could not sleep.
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs ?"
There were others to whom sleep was that night
more difficult to be secured than to myself. Two or
three adventurous artists-I think George Cattermole
was of the number-elected to lodge in the dormi-
tories of the great tower, some hundred and fifty feet
above the floor from which it sprang. The wind
rose; the storm grew louder and louder; the frail
structure rocked, as Gulliver's cage rocked in the
eagle's beak. The terrified guests rushed down the
broad stairs, and sat drearily in the dark saloon till
the daybreak gave them assurance of safety. But I
am rambling from my Episode of Vathek. "Within
a week the superb merchant began to indulge a wish
for the possession of some of his former most splendid
baubles; he bethought him that his free habit of
expressing his thoughts in the broad margins of his
beautiful manuscripts might one day cause some
awkward inquiries." I was taken by my host to the
Library. "You are free," he said, "to make any
3
312
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. IX.
transcript you please of marginal notes on these
books. I have sent an invitation to Hazlitt to come
also; but I hear that he has not got beyond Winter-
slow Hut." Something was whispered about a new
book, to be called "Fly Leaves from Fonthill." My
curiosity was roused, though I shrank from making
profit by book or article out of my notes. In truth,
as far as I could trace, there was little in these
volumes to alarm their annotator or interest the
public. I need not have tested my conscience. When
the Library had been glanced at by profane eyes the
object was accomplished. "The articles," says the
Episode, “were selected, but the little Jew had yet
to name the price. Bekfudi raved and tore his hair
when a fourth of his four hundred thousand sequins
were demanded for what had cost even him not a
tenth of the sum."
The second number of the Magazine was getting
into shape in the middle of the September of 1823,
although its publication was a month behind its due
time. With me this was a pleasant autumn. Mr.
Moultrie had come to reside at Eton. We had friendly
walks together. He was writing the second Canto
of "La Belle Tryamour," and as we sat on the lawn
of a little village inn he was rapidly jotting down
his verses. In a piece of nonsense which I also
wrote as we laughed and lounged, I said, "I have
seen, as I watched Gerard's impassioned countenance,
the infancy of a thought struggling into energy in
its perilous contest with the fetters of a rhyme, and
at last triumph in the maturity of a stanza.' Mr.
Derwent Coleridge came to visit Mr. Moultrie. He
was also to write for the forthcoming number. I dare
say he forgave me when I ventured to say, that
""
Ch. IX.]
313
THE FIRST EPOCH.
before he went to work "Davenant had first to be
delivered of a theory on the supernatural creations of
Shakspere, and this carried us to Racine and
Voltaire, Aristotle and Confucius; a slight disserta-
tion on the merits of the Italian Platonists led us to
Germany; and we ended, as the candles were brought,
with Kant and Jacob Behmen."
In that autumn of 1823, looking back through
four decades, I see a youth of twenty-two, and a
man ten years his senior-one who had given "hos-
tages to fortune"-anxiously engaged in discussing
all the circumstances which had led to a challenge to
fight a duel, in which the younger was to be one of
the principals. My wife and I were at breakfast,
when Mr. Praed came in, looking pale and anxious.
He begged me to walk out with him. It was nearly
the end of the term, and most of his intimates had
left Cambridge. He had come to town by the early
coach, having arranged for a hostile meeting, in
London, with a gentleman with whom he had
quarrelled the night before. The subject of differ-
ence had been the date of the battle of Bunker's
Hill. The heat of argument had been so great, that
the three unforgiveable words which, spoken in Par-
liament, always sent honourable members to their
hats, had been uttered by him. We went from
house to house, and from chamber to chamber, to
find a friend. No one was to be found. No one
could be found. Would I be his friend? I at once
consented, for I was determined that, if possible,
there should be no duel. The place of rendezvous
was the Swan with two Necks in Lad Lane. After
a little suspense, a young man came in, who was
deputed by his brother, the challenger, to make
314
[Ch. IX.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE.
the needful arrangements with Mr. Praed's friend.
He and I retired. My course was clear. I was
instructed not to tender an apology, but the way,
I saw, was open for a compromise. Rustication,
expulsion, all the possible dangers of a meeting, were
nothing to the horrors of a younger brother standing
by to see his elder brother shot at ; or to imagine the
possibility of both of them appearing in the dock of
the Old Bailey on their trial as murderers. I con-
quered at last. We signed a paper that was satis-
factory, and it was sent under cover to Mr. Macaulay.
Mr. Praed returned to Cambridge by the afternoon
coach. A few hours after Mr. William Henry Ord,
then a Fellow Commoner of Trinity, arrived at my
house in great agitation. He was soon made happy.
He had come up to London in all haste with the
Tutor of Trinity, Mr. Whewell. To Dick's Coffee
House we immediately went, to relieve the appre-
hensions of this eminent scholar and man of science,
then rising into general reputation. We spent a
happy evening together, and nothing more was
heard of the matter. Mr. Hill, in a very admirable
paper "On Duelling," in our first number, had said-
"In the present state of society, the total abolition
of duels cannot, as experience abundantly shows, be
effected." God be praised, the "state of society "
has so changed, that the change has carried with it
not a few great moral as well as political reforms.
The Duel has become as much a thing of the past as
the Wager of Battle.
CHAPTER X.

T was with no common pleasure that I
opened a letter from Mr. Macaulay- a
few lines to say that he was ready to re-
sume his contributions to "The Quarterly
Magazine." He enclosed two Manuscripts. These
scarcely filled two sheets of paper, but they were
as precious as fine gold. Well do I remember the
delight with which I read with a friend in London,
and afterwards heard read by Mr. Moultrie at Wind-
sor in a way in which few could read, the "Songs
of the Huguenots." These are almost as well known
as Campbell's "Mariners of England" and "The
Battle of the Baltic." The "Montcontour" is re-
printed in Macaulay's "Miscellaneous Works"—
the "Ivry" was republished by himself with "Lays
of Ancient Rome." But they ought never to have
been separated. There is a dramatic unity in the
two poems which makes each more valuable. The
song of lamentation should be read before the song
of triumph.
"Oh! weep for Montcontour. Oh! weep for the hour
When the children of darkness and evil had power;
When the horsemen of Valois triumphantly trod
On the bosoms that bled for their rights and their God."
After that dirge how more gladly sounds the hymn
of thanksgiving :
316
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are!
And glory to our Sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre!
Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,
Through thy corn-fields green and sunny vines, Oh pleasant
land of France !
And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the
waters,
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters.
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy,
For cold and stiff and still are they who wrought thy walls
annoy.
Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war.
Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre."
In a few months came another pair of lyrics, which
no change in the fashion of literature can ever con-
sign to oblivion-" Songs of the Civil War." These,
again, ought to be read together. "The Cavaliers'
March to London" has not been reprinted by the
author, nor in his "Miscellaneous Works." It is
perhaps inferior to the other Ballads, but there is
in it a thorough appreciation of the men who raised
the Standard at Nottingham:
"To horse! to horse! brave Cavaliers !
To horse for Church and Crown!
Strike, strike your tents! snatch up your spears!
And ho for London town!
The imperial harlot, doom'd a prey
To our avenging fires,
Sends up the voice of her dismay
From all her hundred spires."
This is the belief of the proud and confident
Royalists, who were as ready for battle as for
wassail.
"And as with nod and laugh ye sip
The goblet's rich carnation,
Whose bursting bubbles seem to tip
The wink of invitation;
Ch. X.]
317
THE FIRST EPOCH.
Drink to those names,-those glorious names,-
Those names no time shall sever,-
Drink, in a draught as deep as Thames,
Our Church and King for ever!"
How doubly solemn comes afterwards the slow
movement of the Puritan song :
"Oh! wherefore come ye forth, in triumph from the North,
With your hands and your feet and your raiment all red?
And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout?
And whence be the grapes of the wine-press which ye tread?"
The return of Macaulay was the herald of "the
most high and palmy state" of the Magazine, when
its first fruits were succeeded by a rich harvest.
Macaulay was now unquestionably its leading spirit.
In the third number, in addition to his "Songs of
the Huguenots," we have "Scenes from Athenian
Revels" and "Dante." Rarely does the Essayist
give an anecdote from personal recollection; but he
gives one of Mr. Brougham: "I have heard the most
eloquent statesman of the age remark, that, next to
Demosthenes, Dante is the writer who ought to be
most attentively studied by every man who desires
to attain oratorical eminence." There is no mistaking
the allusion. I have heard the same opinion given by
the great master of his art on more than one occasion.
In the fourth number we have, as well as "Songs
of the Civil War," the criticism on "Petrarch," and
the "Great Law-Suit between the Parishes of St.
Dennis and St. George in the Water." This is some-
thing more than an imitation of Swift.
Those who
venerate, and most justly, the memory of Burke,
will not be displeased to see him in a caricature por-
trait as effective as that of Gilray:
"There was an honest Irishman, a great favourite.
318
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
among them [the Vestry of St. George in the Water],
who used to entertain them with raree-shows, and to
exhibit a magic-lantern to children on winter even-
ings. He had gone quite mad upon this subject
[the refractory conduct of the tenants of Sir Lewis,
the Lord of the Manor of St. Dennis]. Sometimes he
would call out in the middle of the street-Take
care of that corner, neighbours: for the love of
Heaven, keep clear of that post; there is a patent
steel-trap concealed thereabouts.' Sometimes he
would be disturbed by frightful dreams; then he
would get up at dead of night, open his window,
and cry 'fire,' till the parish was roused, and the
engines sent for. The pulpit of the parish of St.
George seemed likely to fall; I believe that the
only reason was, that the parson had grown too fat
and heavy; but nothing would persuade this honest
man but that it was a scheme of the people of St.
Dennis's, and that they had sawed through the
pillars in order to break the rector's neck. Once he
went about with a knife in his pocket, and told all
the persons whom he met, that it had been sharpened
by the knife-grinder of the next parish to cut their
throats. These extravagances had a great effect
on the people, and the more so because they were
espoused by the Squire Guelf's steward, who was the
most influential person in the parish. He was a very
fair-spoken man, very attentive to the main chance,
and the idol of the old women, because he never
played at skittles or danced with the girls; and
indeed never took any recreation but that of drink-
ing on Saturday nights with his friend Harry, the
Scotch pedlar. His supporters called him Sweet
William; his enemies the Bottomless Pit."
Ch. X.}
319
THE FIRST EPOCH.
""
The fifth number gave us "The Athenian Orators;"
and a paper which, to my mind, if it wants some-
thing of the force of the great article on Milton in
the "Edinburgh Review," has a quiet beauty which
is even superior. The "Gentleman of the Middle
Temple," who relates a "Conversation between Mr.
Abraham Cowley and Mr. John Milton, touching the
great Civil War," tells us how, in the warm and
beautiful spring of 1665, “two men of pregnant
parts and great reputation dined with him at his
lodging in the Temple. It was proposed, after they
had sate at table, talking "freely of many men
and things, as well ancient as modern, with much
civility," that they should sail for an hour on the
river. "The wind was pleasant; the evening fine;
the sky, the earth, and the water beautiful to look
upon. But Mr. Cowley and I held our peace, and
said nothing of the gay sights around us, lest we
should too feelingly remind Mr. Milton of his cala-
mity; whereof, however, he needed no monitor: for
soon he said sadly, 'Ah, Mr. Cowley, you are a
happy man. What would I now give but for one
more look at the sun, and the waters, and the
gardens of this fair city!'
"I know not,' said Mr. Cowley, 'whether we
ought not rather to envy you for that which makes
you to envy others: and that specially in this place,
where all eyes which are not closed in blindness
ought to become fountains of tears. What can we
look upon which is not a memorial of change and
sorrow, of fair things vanished, and evil things
done?'
Sir, by your favour,' said Mr.
Milton, though, from many circumstances, both of
body and of fortune, I might plead fairer excuse for
320
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
despondency than yourself, I yet look not so sadly
either on the past or on the future. That a deluge
hath passed over this our nation, I deny not. But I
hold it not to be such a deluge as that of which
you speak; but rather a blessed flood like those of
the Nile, which in its overflow doth indeed wash
away ancient landmarks, and confound boundaries,
and sweep away dwellings, yea, doth give birth to
many foul and dangerous reptiles. Yet hence is the
fulness of the granary, the beauty of the garden, the
nurture of all living things.""
The men of opposite opinions argue with temper,
though each holds his own. It was not to be ex-
pected that Macaulay would hesitate to make Milton
more eloquent than Cowley.
CC C
When will rulers learn, that where liberty is
not, security and order can never be. We talk of
absolute power, but all power hath limits, which, if
not fixed by the moderation of the governors, will
be fixed by the force of the governed. Sovereigns
may send their opposers to dungeons; they may clear
out a senate-house with soldiers; they may enlist
armies of spies; they may hang scores of the dis-
affected at every cross-road: but what power shall
stand in that frightful time when rebellion hath
become a less evil than endurance? Who shall dis-
solve that terrible tribunal, which, in the hearts of
the oppressed, denounces against the oppressor the
doom of its wild justice? Who shall repeal the law
of self-defence? What arms or discipline shall resist
the strength of famine and despair? How often
were the ancient Cæsars dragged from their golden
palaces, stripped of their purple robes, mangled,
stoned, defiled with filth, pierced with hooks, hurled
Ch. X.]
321
THE FIRST EPOCH.
into the Tiber!
How often have the Eastern sultans
perished by the sabres of their own Janissaries,
or the bow-strings of their own mutes! For no
power which is not limited by laws can ever be pro-
tected by them. Small, therefore, is the wisdom of
those who would fly to servitude, as if it were a
refuge from commotion; for anarchy is the sure
consequence of tyranny. That governments may
be safe, nations must be free. Their passions must
have an outlet provided, lest they make one.""
Macaulay, in the height of his fame, looked back
upon the Conversation between Cowley and Milton
with a just pride. And yet it would seem that he could
scarcely have felt, when he thus concluded his article
on "The Athenian Orators," that there was something
in these Magazine papers of a Cambridge under-gra-
duate which "the world would not willingly let die."
A magazine is certainly a delightful invention
for a very idle or very busy man. He is not com-
pelled to complete his plan or to adhere to his sub-
ject. He may ramble as far as he is inclined, and
stop as soon as he is tired. No one takes the trouble
to recollect his contradictory opinions or his unre-
deemed pledges. He may be as superficial, as incon-
sistent, and as careless as he chooses. Magazines
resemble those angels, who, according to the pretty
Rabbinical tradition, are generated every morning
by the brook which rolls over the flowers of Paradise,
-whose life is a song,-who warble till sunset, and
then sink back without regret into nothingness.
Such spirits have nothing to do with the detecting
spear of Ithuriel or the victorious sword of Michael.
It is enough for them to please, and be forgotten.'
After the return of Mr. Macaulay, the Quarterly
VOL. I.
X
""
322
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
Magazine went on flourishingly to the completion of
the fifth number. The "Troubadour" of Mr. Praed
vied with the "Tryamour" of Mr. Moultrie. Mr.
Henry Coleridge produced admirable historical
articles on "Mirabeau" and the "Long Parliament.”
Mr. Malden wrote papers as entertaining as they
were learned on "Lucian's True History," and the
“Literary History of the Provençals." In the fourth
number appeared "The Boeotian Order of Architec-
ture' an article upon which I must somewhat
dilate, for the purpose of referring to a most extraor-
dinary attempt to restrain the liberty of opinion
in matters of taste. The case of Soane versus
Knight," recorded in the King's Bench Term Reports,
remains as a warning to over-sensitive artists not to
sally forth with the heavy ordnance of Law to do
battle against the "light artillery" of Criticism.
""
"C
"The Boeotian, or Sixth Order," professed to be
an analytical account of a work on the principles of
Architecture, almost unknown in this country. This
production of the great Vander von Bluggen set forth
canons of Art which had not been lost upon a few
modern architects, and which were illustrated in
their practice. Mr. Soane, although his name was
not mentioned in the article, thought fit, in 1827, to
bring an action against me for the libellous matter
contained in the publication of 1824. The cause
was tried in the Court of King's Bench on the 12th of
June, 1827. The array of counsel for the plaintiff was
most formidable-Mr. Gurney, Mr. Brougham, and
two juniors. The defendant was fortunate in having
retained Mr. Scarlett and Mr. Hill. When Mr. Gurney
solemnly read some of the axioms of Vander von Blug-
gen, contending that they were doubtless intended
2
Ch. X.1
323
THE FIRST EPOCH.
to apply to Mr. Soane, there was a titter throughout
the court. I was sitting near Mr. Brougham (to
whom I had been introduced in the previous No-
vember), and looking at me with a face of imper-
turbable gravity, he whispered, "Oh! you wicked
fellow." I had taken some pains in getting up what
may be termed the literature of such actions. The
sort of essay which was embodied in the brief of
"The Defendant's Case" is before me. I scarcely
need say that Mr. Scarlett interpreted the matter to
the jury in a very different form, though much of
the substance of his speech was the same as my brief.
There was not the least hesitation in the verdict
being for the defendant. As this is a question which
will never cease to interest Englishmen as long as
they enjoy a free press, I may be excused in present-
ing a short summary of the principles upon which the
action for the alleged libel was successfully defended.
The freedom and even licence of criticism, as
applied to literature, is too firmly established as a
principle to require any vindication. It cannot be
doubted that the liberty which is claimed by and
permitted to public writers, of commenting without
reserve upon the writings of others, has had a most
salutary influence upon the morals, the learning, the
taste, and the intellectual progress, of this and of
every other country. The only limit which is pre-
scribed for the regulation of this freedom is, that
the critic should avoid every occasion of personal
slander, and that his opinions should be grounded
solely upon the merits or demerits of the work that
he reviews, without any admixture of private malig-
nity. It has been received as a just principle of
such writing, and that principle has been admitted
X 2
324
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
to be legal by the courts, that the adoption of a vein
of satire and ridicule, provided that ridicule be still
limited to a man's works, and does not apply to his
moral character, is essential in some cases for the
advancement of the cause of truth.
The powers of ridicule in criticism are peculiarly
applicable in matters of taste; the false principles of
which are not so easily demonstrable by reason and
argument, as by those lighter attacks which place an
absurdity in a strong and prominent point of view,
and deprive it of the force of example and the autho-
rity of fashion. Without multiplying instances of
the efficacy of this salutary ridicule, it may be suffi-
cient to observe, that knight-errantry was banished
from Europe by the Don Quixote of Cervantes,-
that the monstrous lies of voyagers, and the absurd
speculations of philosophy, were put to shame by
Gulliver's Travels,-that Swift was equally successful
in exposing and guarding the public against the
absurd pretensions of astrology in Partridge, and the
furious ravings of hypercriticism in Dennis,—that a
host of immoral and stupid writers were swept away
by the Dunciad;-and, to approach nearer our own
times, that the false glitter of the Della Cruscan
school of poetry was stript of its pretensions by Mr.
Gifford in his "Baviad and Meviad," and that the
philosophical affectation of Darwin was laughed out
of reputation by the "Loves of the Triangles" of Mr.
Canning. Against all and each of these productions,
which are acknowledged to have had a most bene-
ficial influence upon the taste of the periods in which
they were produced, ridicule was the sole weapon
employed for the correction of daring absurdity or
inordinate pretension.
Ch. X.]
325
THE FIRST EPOCH.
There was no case in the books of a nature similar
to the action of Mr. Soane. Indeed, with the exception
of a cause tried before Lord Kenyon, in which the
same plaintiff complained of the severity of criti-
cism in a poem called "The Modern Goth," and
complained in vain, no artist of any denomination
whatever had sought to establish his reputation
by legal proceedings against critical animadversion.
That artists had abundant provocation to such legal
remedy, if legal remedy could be given them, mușt
be obvious to the most superficial observer of our
periodical literature. The painters of portraits, for
instance, are peculiarly dependent upon the good
opinion of the public, yet what painter of portraits
ever thought of coming to a court of justice, for
having it affirmed of him that his likenesses were
inaccurate, his attitudes vulgar, or his colours jaun-
diced? The reason of this forbearance is perfectly
obvious; for every professor of art must feel that he
owes much more to criticism than he can lose by it;
and the proper use to make of those animadversions
is to improve his own productions.
Criticisms upon architecture have ever been as
contemporaneous with the works of art, as criticisms
upon literature or upon historic performances. Sir
Christopher Wren was attacked with great severity
for some supposed incongruities in his churches in
London. The records of his feelings are to be found
in his posthumous journals. The "Heroic Epistle to
Sir William Chambers" is well known for its clas-
sical wit and its caustic severity. Mr. Thomas Hope
published a criticism on the works of James Wyatt
which actually prevented that eminent architect
being employed in the erection of Downing College.
326
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. X.
Dr. Milner published a book on the same artist,
whose very title, "On the Spoliation of Churches,"
might be construed to be libellous. And lastly, not
to descend to meaner instances, the Professor of
Architecture to the Royal Academy-the plaintiff in
the present action-delivered a series of lectures to
the students, severely criticising the works of con-
temporary architects, particularly those of Mr. Smirke.
It is impossible to open a periodical publication which
treats of matters of art, without perceiving that the
utmost freedom of discussion is assumed upon subjects
on which the public taste can only be formed by
repeated examination and comparison.
""
In the fifth number of the "Quarterly Magazine
there appeared a miscellaneous paper entitled "The
Anniversary." It was a vehicle for the introduction
of a considerable variety of stray contributions. My
article had little of originality in its conception; for
Blackwood had published something similar, occu-
pying a whole number of his Miscellany. I could
scarcely have dreamt that, eight and twenty years
afterwards, this piece of merriment would have been
received au pied de la lettre; that in a Memoir of
Macaulay—“ with some account of his early and un-
known writings"-so charming a simplicity would
have been manifested by this "shilling" biographer,
as to demand from him an elaborate abridgment of
the narrative of what he terms "a jollification amongst
the young contributors" to "Knight's Quarterly
Magazine." He has, however, a saving clause which
may cover a little of his greenery" The whole affair
may have been heightened by the pen of the re-
porter."
When the fifth number of the Magazine was
ד
Ch. X.]
327
THE FIRST EPOCH.
published in July, 1824, I had become acquainted
with Mr. De Quincey; and he had contributed a
paper translated, as he purported, from the German
of Laun, called "The Incognito." It was a very lively
and pleasant paper; but as to the strict fidelity of
the translation I might have had considerable doubts.
He could not go about this sort of work without im-
proving all he touched. In November he was engaged
upon a translation of "Walladmor," which some Curll
of Germany advertised as the translation of a sup-
pressed work of Sir Walter Scott. Messrs. Taylor
and Hessey put the German hoax into the hands of
De Quincey to be re-translated. I saw him groaning
over his uncongenial labour, by which he eventually
got very little. It was projected to appear in three
volumes. He despairingly wrote to me, "after weed-
ing out the forests of rubbish, I believe it will make
only one decent volume." At that time he was direly
beset with visitations more terrible than the normal
poverty of authors. A little before I knew him he
had come one morning to my friend Hill, wet and
shivering, having slept under a hayrick in the Hamp-
stead fields. I have a letter from him of this period,
in which he says, "anxiety, long-continued with me
of late years in consequence of my opium-shattering
-seizes on some frail part about the stomach, and
produces a specific complaint, which very soon abo-
lishes all power of thinking at all." In "The An-
niversary" I thus introduced De Quincey: "A short
spare figure, with an expression in his eye that at
once indicated the strength of the man of genius and
the weakness of the valetudinarian, advanced with a
slow pace of diffidence towards us, and thus addressed
us:—'I fear, sir, that I am an intruder both upon
328
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
your interesting conversation and your purposed en-
joyments. I was looking round, sir, for my worthy
friend, Mr. Paterson Aymer. By his cordial invita-
tion I have been tempted from my solitude, to join a
company that I cannot but feel desirous of knowing,
though I fear much the weight, the heavy and un-
utterable weight, of depression that bears me down,
will render me an unfit partaker of your intellectual
pleasures. Oh, sir, even now do I feel the gnawings
of that poison with which I have drugged my veins.
Fly the cursed spell, if you would continue to know
peace of mind and body. But you will excuse me
talking of myself.' We all looked at each other
with surprise. Can it be!' was on every tongue.
'May I venture to ask, sir, whom I have the honour
of seeing amongst us? Though Mr. Paterson Aymer
be not yet arrived, his friends are ours.' 'My name,
sir, is; but you have heard of me as a too-
celebrated Opium-Eater.' We all involuntarily
bowed; and in two minutes Haller and our illustrious
friend were deep in a discussion on political economy,
while Murray and Tristram appealed to him, in the
intervals of the debate, upon their contrary views of
the knowledge of Greek in Europe at the time of
Dante."
The Macaulay biographer receives this as a curious
anecdote of De Quincey, which "indicates that he
was fast changing into that little dried-up, parch-
ment-hided man that he became years afterwards."
This it is, to make a book without the least know-
ledge of the men and things of which it treats.
"Dried-up! parchment-hided!" "Oh, for one hour
of Dundee !" One hour of De Quincey-better,
three hours from nine till midnight-for a rapt
Ch. X.]
329
THE FIRST EPOCH.
listener to be "under the wand of a magician"—
spell-bound by his wonderful affluence of talk, such
as that of the fairy whose lips dropped rubies and
diamonds. Many a night have I, with my wife by
my side, sat listening to the equable flow of his
discourse, both of us utterly forgetting the usual
regularity of our habits, and hearing the drowsy
watchman's "past one o'clock" (for the old watch-
man then walked his round) before we parted.
There was another newly acquired intimate of that
time-Barry St. Leger-who also had contributed
to the "Quarterly Magazine." Our friendship was
of the warmest nature during the remainder of his
too short life. The wit-combats between him and
De Quincey were most amusing. Never were two
men greater contrasts in their intellectual characters.
The one passionately rhetorical-the other calmly
logical,—the one making a fierce onslaught upon his
apparently unwatchful opponent,-the other with a
slight turn of his wrist striking the sword out of his
adversary's hand, leaving him defenceless. In the
ordinary intercourse of society, St. Leger was self-
possessed, perfectly at his ease, ready for every
emergency, a man of the world, yet with a heart for
friendship as warm as that of a schoolboy.
Quincey, vast as were his acquirements, intuitive as
was his appreciation of character and the motives
of human actions, unembarrassed as was his demea-
nour, pleasant and even mirthful his table-talk, was
as helpless in every position of responsibility, as
when he nightly paced "stony-hearted Oxford
Street" looking for the lost one. He was constantly
beset by idle fears and vain imaginings. His sensi-
tiveness was so extreme, in combination with the
De
330
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
[Ch. X.
almost ultra-courtesy of a gentleman, that he hesi-
tated to trouble a servant with any personal re-
quests without a long prefatory apology. My family
were in the country in the summer of 1825, when
he was staying at my house in Pall Mall East. A
friend or two had met him at dinner, and I had
walked part of the way home with one of them.
When I returned, I tapped at his chamber-door to
bid him good night. He was sitting at the open
window, habited as a prize-fighter when he enters the
ring. "You will take cold," I exclaimed. Where
is your shirt?"
I have not a shirt-my shirts
are unwashed,"
cr
"But why not tell the servant to
send them to the laundress ?" "Ah! how could I
presume to do that in Mrs. Knight's absence?"
One more illustration of the eccentricity of De
Quincey. I had been to Windsor. On my return I
was told that Mr. De Quincey had taken his box
away, leaving word that he was gone home. I
knew that he was waiting for a remittance from
his mother, which would satisfy some clamorous
creditors and enable him to rejoin his family at
Grasmere. Two or three days after, I heard that he
was still in town. I obtained a clue to his hiding-
place, and found him in a miserable lodging on the
Surrey side of Waterloo bridge. He had received
a large draft on a London banker at twenty-one
days' sight. He summoned courage to go to Lom-
bard Street, and was astonished to learn that he
could not obtain the amount till the draft became
due. A man of less sensitive feelings would have
returned to Pall Mall East, and have there waited
securely and comfortably till I came. How to frame
his apology to our trusty domestic was the diffi-
Ch. X.]
331
THE FIRST EPOCH.
((
culty that sent him into the den where I found
him. He produced the draft to me from out of
his Bible, which he thought was the best hiding-
place. Come to me to-morrow morning, and I
What? how? Can such
Can the amount be got before
"Never fear-come you—and
will give you the cash.”
a thing be possible?
the draft is due ?"
then get home as fast as you can.
""
The prospects of the Magazine after the publication
of the fifth number were not disheartening. The
contributions of Mr. Macaulay, which came to me
early, appeared almost sufficient in themselves to
bear up the Miscellany, even if the temporary defec-
tion of one of its most important and earliest con-
tributors were to continue. The article on "Mitford's
History of Greece" by the future orator and histo-
rian, clearly indicates the bent of his studies:
"All wise statesmen have agreed to consider the
prosperity or adversity of nations as made up of the
happiness or misery of individuals, and to reject as
chimerical all notions of a public interest of the
community, distinct from the interest of the com-
ponent parts. It is therefore strange that those
whose office it is to supply statesmen with examples
and warnings, should omit, as too mean for the
dignity of history, circumstances which exert the
most extensive influence on the state of society. In
general, the undercurrent of human life flows
steadily on, unruffled by the storms which agitate
the surface. The happiness of the many commonly
depends on causes independent of victories and de-
feats, of revolutions or restorations,-causes which
can be regulated by no laws, and which are recorded
in no archives. These causes are the things which
332
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
it is of main importance to us to know, not how
the Lacedæmonian phalanx was broken at Leuctra-
not whether Alexander died of poison or by disease.
History, without these, is a shell without a kernel;
and such is almost all the history which is extant in
the world. Paltry skirmishes and plots are reported
with absurd and useless minuteness: but improve-
ments the most essential to the comfort of human
life extend themselves over the world, and introduce
themselves into every cottage, before any annalist can
condescend, from the dignity of writing about generals
and ambassadors, to take the least notice of them."
Perhaps my readers, who may have become some-
what wearied with the eternal reproduction of the
famous "New Zealander," may not turn away from
the original sketch of that personage :-
"The dervise, in the Arabian tale, did not hesi-
tate to abandon to his comrade the camels with
their load of jewels and gold, while he retained
the casket of that mysterious juice which enabled
him to behold at one glance all the hidden riches
of the universe. Surely it is no exaggeration to
say, that no external advantage is to be compared
with that purification of the intellectual eye which
gives us to contemplate the infinite wealth of the
mental world, all the hoarded treasures of its
primeval dynasties, all the shapeless ore of its
yet unexplored mines. This is the gift of Athens
to man. Her freedom and her power have for
more than twenty centuries been annihilated; her
people have degenerated into timid slaves; her
language into a barbarous jargon; her temples have
been given up to the successive depredations of
Romans, Turks, and Scotchmen; but her intellectual
Ch. X.1
333
THE FIRST EPOCH.
empire is imperishable. And, when those who have
rivalled her greatness shall have shared her fate;
when civilization and knowledge shall have fixed
their abode in distant continents; when the sceptre
shall have passed away from England; when, perhaps,
travellers from distant regions shall in vain labour to
decipher on some mouldering pedestal the name of
our proudest chief; shall hear savage hymns chaunted
to some misshapen idol over the ruined dome of her
proudest temple; and shall see a single naked fisher-
man wash his nets in the river of the ten thousand
masts,-her influence and her glory will still survive,
-fresh in eternal youth, exempt from mutability
and decay, immortal as the intellectual principle
from which they derived their origin, and over which
they exercise their control."
Mr. Macaulay contributed also to the sixth number
"A Prophetic Account of a Grand National Poem, to
be entitled 'The Wellingtoniad,' and to be published
A.D. 2824." It purports to be written by Richard
Quongti, "lineally descended from Quongti, the
famous Chinese-liberal." The humour is admirable.
But in the introductory account of Quongti, would
the author of this clever jeu d'esprit have postponed
for a thousand years, had he happily been now living,
such a consummation as that alluded to in noticing
Quongti's travels "to the United States of America"?
"That tremendous war, which will be fatal to Ame-
rican liberty, will, at that time, be raging through
the whole federation. At New York the travellers
will hear of the final defeat and death of the illus-
trious champion of freedom, Jonathan Higginbottom,
and of the elevation of Ebenezer Hogsflesh to the
perpetual Presidency!"
334
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: [Ch. X.
At the beginning of October I went to Cambridge
with Mr. Hill. We arrived on a day of jubilation,
for Mr. Macaulay and Mr. Malden had each gained
a Trinity fellowship. There was a happy dinner in
Mr. Malden's rooms. But a cloud had come over
the bright prospects of the "Quarterly Magazine.”
Two of its first supporters were holding back their
contributions. Some trick not worth an egg"
some misunderstanding about the future editorship
-had produced a coldness in those with whom I
had been most intimate. I was weary and heartsick.
I was worn out with anxiety at the dangerous illness
of my father. Cares of business were pressing upon
me heavily. I had engaged in large undertakings
which demanded my constant attention in London,
and I had a divided duty at Windsor. The Magazine
was a loss and a trouble. With the sixth number
I determined to announce that
announce that its career was
ended.
I had spent a night at my father's bed-side.
The crisis was fast approaching. My wife had been
too ill, in Pall Mall East, to take her willing part in
this sad office-but, at all risks, she came in time
for the end. As the November sun was rising
brightly above the trees of the Long Walk, I poured
out to her my thoughts in a letter which is before
me: "All here is full of pleasing but melancholy
associations. How alive the mind is at such seasons.
If I look out upon the garden and orchard, the
history of almost every tree that he planted, and
the recollection of our walks beneath them from my
boyhood, force themselves upon me. I feel that I
could never be entirely happy in any other place.
The future of my London life loomed dark and
""
Ch. X.]
335
THE FIRST EPOCH.
dangerous. My mind rested upon the contented past
that had not known many fears.
""
"Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
Che la diritta via era smarrita."
DANTE—Inferno.
"In the midway of this our mortal life
I found me in a gloomy wood, astray,
Gone from the path direct."
CARY.
Reserving for the next epoch of my "Working
Life the recital of some of its passages in my
vocation of a London publisher from 1823 to 1826, I
have here to complete my notice of the close of "The
Quarterly Magazine." A glance at the short life of
a second series, and at a small experiment upon the
public taste which was attempted by me, in con-
junction with Mr. Praed and Mr. St. Leger, will be
briefly given in the present volume.
The "advertisement" in the concluding Number,
wherein I announced the discontinuance of a work
which, "as it proceeded, had acquired a considerable
distinction amongst the discerning and the intelli-
gent," was certain to give offence. I was unwilling
to offend; but I was sorely wounded. I wrote-
"The publisher has lately had to choose between
surrendering that responsibility which his duties to
society have compelled him to retain, and which has
in many cases prevented this work offending those
whose esteem is most to be desired, or losing much
of the assistance which has given to the 'Quarterly
Magazine' a peculiar and original character. He
could not hesitate in his choice. He would not
commit his own opinions to an inexperienced and
336
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
incautious dictation; and he prefers the discontinu-
ance of the work to conducting it with diminished.
talent."
This led to a controversy. An article appeared in
"The Cambridge Chronicle," written by Mr. Praed.
It was more temperate than I had anticipated. He
described the Magazine as having been intended
originally to assume something of a more classical
tone than its periodical contemporaries. He spoke
of the publisher as an honest and liberal man,
but expressed a somewhat disparaging opinion of
his competence to retain the direction of the Ma-
gazine permanently and exclusively. I replied in
the same newspaper. There was a correspondence
between Mr. Praed and myself,—formal and reserved
on either side. Willingly would I forget the whole
affair, did I not feel it my duty and pleasure to
record that, within two months, Mr. Praed sponta-
neously called upon me, held out once more the hand
of friendship, and never afterwards lost an opportu-
nity of testifying his goodwill towards me. He took
no part in the continuation of the "Quarterly Ma-
gazine." In the editorship of its one number, pub-
lished in the autumn of 1825, Mr. Malden assisted.
In its general tone it was much more sober-and of
course less interesting-than its predecessor. It
might have made its way; for one of the great whole-
sale houses in Paternoster Row proposed to take a
share in it, after its first appearance. The Panic came,
and disposed of this and of many other schemes.
Mr. Derwent Coleridge had returned to assist in
rearing our callow Phoenix. His paper on "The
Chevalier Bayard" is curious, as showing how the
romantic, in the mind of a man of real talent,
Ch. X.]
337
THE FIRST EPOCH.
may gradually slide into the practical. It thus
opens:
"When men change swords for ledgers'—we
think they do exceeding well. The thirst for gold is
at least as respectable as the thirst for blood; and
though the language and sentiments of the counting-
house be not quite so poetical as those of the field,
yet we think the latter ill purchased at the price
which has been paid for them, by cutting off heads,
and hewing off arms and legs."
In the same spirit—whilst, at the same time, the
author does full justice to the character of Bayard—
we have this bit of vigorous truth :—
When we read of a stout and well-fed noble-
man, cased in all the iron he could support, and
mounted on a great horse, as it was emphatically
termed; when we read of a baron, thus fortified,
sallying forth from his castle for forty days, and
pouncing on a rabble of half-armed and half-starved
foot soldiers, like Don Quixote on the flock of sheep,
with an excellent chance besides of having his life
spared, should the worst come to the worst, for the
sake of his ransom,-shall we be ravished from
ourselves by any enthusiastic sympathy with such
heroism, or compare for a moment the courage here
exhibited, with that of a modern officer at the head
of his troop? For the tournay, nothing could be
more safe, gothic, and absurd; nor can we under-
stand with what colour of reason the chroniclers
attribute to a young champion any extraordinary
valour for engaging in such conflicts, though with the
prowest knight in Christentie, when the utmost
risk he runs is that of being jerked off his horse,
somewhat more rudely indeed than one falls in a
VOL. I.
Σ
238
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
riding-school, but with little more danger indeed,
either to limb or life, than a country gentleman
incurs three times a week in a fox chase. Yet many
of them seem to record the feats of the tournay with
a yet fonder admiration than those of actual war."
Of the liberal but essentially religious spirit in
which theological questions were approached by
young men of Cambridge, before the days of Pusey
and Arnold, of high-church and broad-church, we
may judge from a passage in a learned and impartial
review of the newly discovered work of Milton, “On
Christian Doctrine":
"We have heard it lamented by some that this
volume should be drawn from its obscurity, as they
imagine its heterodox and strange opinions may hurt
the character of Milton, or tend to injure the cause
of religion by depriving some tenets of the assistance
to be given them by the example of the great Chris-
tian poet. We cannot enter into these fears or
scruples. No man's character is injured by holding
conscientiously any opinion, or by supporting it by
the fair and lawful weapons of argument and erudi-
tion. He who pretends to opinions in which he does
not believe, or promulgates his own doctrines by
objectionable means, suffers indeed in character;
but these are charges from which the fame of Milton
is free. As for the other objection, that the cause of
some of the most vital tenets of Christianity may
suffer by the arguments, or the example, of our
author, that is a base and unworthy dread. The
cause of truth cannot be injured by any argument,
or shaken by the defection of men, no matter how
endowed with the gifts of genius or the acquisitions
of learning."
Ch. X.]
339
THE FIRST EPOCH.
De Quincey had written to me in December, 1824,
in the belief that, as he expressed it, "many of
your friends will rally about you, and urge you to
some new undertaking of the same kind. If that
should happen I beg to say, that you may count upon
me, as one of your men, for any extent of labour, to
the best of my power, which you may choose to com-
mand." He wrote a translation of "The Love Charm"
of Tieck, with a notice of the author. This is not
reprinted in his collected works, though perhaps it
is the most interesting of his translations from the
German. In this spring and summer of 1825, De
Quincey and I were in intimate companionship. It
was a pleasant time of intellectual intercourse for
me. My father, a little before his last illness, had
far advanced in building a cottage, by the side of
his own, for my family to occupy. That hope of his
heart to have us near him was not fulfilled. But in
that summer we spent much of our time there. Mr.
Praed and Mr. Moultrie were living at Eton as private
tutors. They had taken a great liking to my friend
Mr. Tarver, and were most assiduous in promoting
his interests, as French master at the college.
In his society, after he came to reside at Windsor
when the war was at an end, I had found a clever
and accomplished companion, who had the pecu-
liar advantage of knowing intimately both the
French and English languages, and was familiar
with the literature of both countries. He was born
and bred up in France,—but was of English parents.
Mr. Malden came to visit me for a week or two. There
was a re-union in which all unpleasantnesses were
forgotten. When I went to London, I was associated
with Hill, and St. Leger, and De Quincey, who each
Y 2
340
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
thoroughly relished the conversation of the others.
De Quincey, as I have incidentally mentioned, went
away home in the summer of 1825. We were all
truly sorry to part with this valued friend, whose
eccentricities made him even more dear to us—whose
helplessness under the direst pressure of want of
means, brought no feeling of contempt, for his abili
ties and learning commanded our reverence. We
scarcely knew then what he had to endure during his
London sojourn. We may now judge of his miseries
from a letter which he wrote to Professor Wilson in
February, 1825:-
"At this time calamity presses upon me with a
heavy hand. . . At this moment I have not a
place to hide my head in." (Mrs. Gordon's 'Christo-
pher North,' vol. ii. p. 79.) He left London in the
summer, exulting in the prospect of freedom from
debt, and from the necessity that had pressed upon
him "to maintain the war with the wretched
business of hack author, with all its degradations."
(Ibid.) I occasionally had a warm-hearted letter
from him; but our correspondence, after a year
or two, had ceased. I was delighted at its renewal
in July 1829, when he wrote me the most pressing
invitation from Mrs. De Quincey and himself,
to come, with my wife and children, to visit
them. He had quitted his home at the Lakes
in 1827, to remain in Edinburgh for two years,
writing, but separated for the greater part of the
time from his family. Wonderfully characteristic
are some passages of this letter: "Well, by good
management and better luck, I contrived early in
this present year to silence mes Anglois (as the
French do, or did, use to entitle creditors). This
Ch. X.]
341
THE FIRST EPOCH.
odious race of people were silenced, I say, or nearly
so: no insolent dun has raised his disgusting voice
against me since Candlemas 1829; they now speak
softly, and as if butter would not melt in their
mouths; and I have so well planted my fire-engines,
for extinguishing this horrid description of nuisance,
that if by chance any one should smoulder a little
too much (flame out, none durst for shame), him I
shall souse and drench forthwith into quietness.'
Whilst "this great operation" was in progress he
had been negotiating for the purchase of a “rich
farm-house, flowing with milk and honey, with mighty
barns and spacious pastures," in the vicinity of his
cottage at Grasmere. "Purchasing,' you say, 'what
the devil?' Don't swear, my dear friend; you know
there is such a thing as buying a thing and yet not
paying for it, or, at least, paying only the annual
interest. Well, that is what I do, can do, and will
do. For hear, finally, that the thing is done." To
this farm of Rydal Hay, from which he had written
to me, were we to be welcomed. Mighty was the
temptation, but mightier the difficulty in the days
before railways. "And now, my friend, think what
a glorious El Dorado of milk and butter and cream
cheeses, and all other dairy products, supposing that
you like those things, I can offer you morning, noon,
and night. You may absolutely bathe in new milk,
or even in cream ; and you shall bathe, if you like it.
I know that you care not much about luxuries for the
dinner table; else, though our luxuries are few and
simple, I could offer you some temptations: mountain
lamb equal to Welsh; char famous to the antipodes ;
trout and pike from the very lake within twenty-five
feet of our door; bread, such as you have never pre-
342
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
sumed to dream of, made of our own wheat, not doctored
and separated by the usual miller's process into fine
insipid flour, and coarse, that is, merely dirty-looking
white, but all ground down together-which is the sole
receipt (experto crede) for having rich, lustrous, red-
brown, ambrosial bread; new potatoes, of celestial
earthiness and raciness, which, with us, last to October;
and, finally, milk, milk, milk-cream, cream, cream
(hear it, thou benighted Londoner !) in which you must
and shall bathe."
He
In the spring of 1826, St. Leger and I,—at a time
when there was little prospect of publishing books
with any success,-thought that a smart weekly sheet
might have some hold upon the London public, who
were sick of all money questions, and wanted some-
thing like fun in that gloomy season of commercial
ruin. We went to Eton to consult Praed.
entered most warmly and kindly into the project.
We settled that "The Brazen Head" should be its
title; and that "The Friar" and "The Head" should
discourse upon human affairs, chiefly under the
management of our brilliant associate.
For our-
selves, we had a supplementary machinery, that of
"Harlequin," whose laughing face had been too long
hidden by a wretched black mask, and who had been
too long doomed to perpetual silence, a woeful con-
trast to the overflowing wit of his dear Italian days.
We had four weeks of this pleasantry; and, what was
not an advantage, we had nearly all the amusement
to ourselves; for the number of our purchasers was
not "Legion." Yet in the "Brazen Head" there
are poems of Praed—(unknown, from the scarcity
of these sixty-four pages, to the Americans who
have printed three editions of his poems)—which
Ch. X.]
343
THE FIRST EPOCH.
are every way worthy of that genius which his
countrymen will be soon permitted more fairly to
appreciate in an edition of all his poetical pieces,
issued by an English publisher.
There is one
poem purporting to be a chaunt of The Head while
the Friar falls asleep, which exhibits the remark-
able power of blending earnestness with levity,
philosophy with jest, so peculiarly characteristic of
Praed's happiest vein:
I think, whatever mortals crave,
With impotent endeavour,
A wreath, —a a rank,—a throne,—a grave,-
The world goes round for ever;
I think that life is not too long,
And therefore I determine
That many people read a song,
Who will not read a sermon.
"I think you've look'd through many hearts,
And mused on many actions,
And studied man's component parts,
And nature's compound fractions ;
I think you've picked up truth by bits
From foreigner and neighbour,
I think the world has lost its wits,
And you have lost your labour.
"I think the studies of the wise,
The hero's noisy quarrel,
The majesty of woman's eyes,
The poet's cherish'd laurel;
And all that makes us lean or fat,
And all that charms or troubles,—
This bubble is more bright than that,
But still they all are bubbles.
"I think the thing you call Renown,
The unsubstantial vapour
For which the soldier burns a town,
The sonnetteer a taper,
344
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE:
Is like the mist which, as he flies,
The horseman leaves behind him;
He cannot mark its wreaths arise,
Or, if he does, they blind him.
"I think one nod of mistress Chance
Makes creditors of debtors,
And shifts the funeral for the dance,
The sceptre for the fetters;
I think that Fortune's favour'd guest
May live to gnaw the platters;
And he that wears the purple vest
May wear the rags and tatters.
"I think the Tories love to buy
'Your Lordships' and 'Your Graces,'
By loathing common honesty,
And lauding common-places;
I think that some are very wise,
And some are very funny,
And some grow rich by telling lies,
And some by telling money.
"I think the Whigs are wicked knaves,
And very like the Tories,
Who doubt that Britain rules the waves,
And ask the price of glories;
I think that many fret and fume
At what their friends are planning,
And Mr. Hume hates Mr. Brougham
As much as Mr. Canning.
"I think that friars and their hoods,
Their doctrines and their maggots,
Have lighted up too many feuds,
And far too many faggots;
I think while zealots fast and frown,
And fight for two or seven,
That there are fifty roads to town,
And rather more to Heaven.
"I think that, thanks to Paget's lance,
And thanks to Chester's learning,
The hearts that burned for fame in France,
At home are safe from burning;
Ch. X.]
345
THE FIRST EPOCH.
I think the Pope is on his back,
And, though 'tis fun to shake him,
I think the Devil not so black
As many people make him.
"I think that Love is like a play
Where tears and smiles are blended,
Or like a faithless April day,
Whose shine with shower is ended;
Like Colnbrook pavement, rather rough,
Like trade exposed to losses,
And like a Highland plaid, all stuff,
And very full of crosses.
I think the world, though dark it be,
Has aye one rapturous pleasure,
Conceal'd in life's monotony,
For those who seek the treasure;
One planet in a starless night,—
One blossom on a briar,—
One friend not quite a hypocrite,—
One woman not a liar!
"I think poor beggars court St. Giles,
Rich beggars court St. Stephen;
And Death looks down with nods and smiles,
And makes the odds all even;
I think some die upon the field,
And some upon the billow,
And some are laid beneath a shield,
And some beneath a willow.
"I think that very few have sigh'd,
When Fate at last has found them,
Though bitter foes were by their side,
And barren moss around them;
I think that some have died of drought,
And some have died of drinking ;-
I think that nought is worth a thought,
And I'm a fool for thinking!"
"I think "
my readers will not complain of the
length of this reprint. I could not select stanzas
346
[Ch. X.
PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE.
without injury to the unity of thought. The poem,
after having been published six-and-thirty years, is
far less known than was Macaulay's famous "Elec-
tion Ballad" of 1827, before the "Quarterly Review"
disentombed it from the columns of "The Times."
I must hold my hand. I must look forward to my
proper work of sober narrative in the next stage of
life's journey—to trace the progress of education—
the growth of popular literature. The following
lines from the "Arlechino Parlante" of "The Brazen
Head”—the Harlequin "who everything changes
verses which St. Leger and I produced in happy
association, are suggestive of the opening, in a new
condition of society, for labours that might be useful
to my fellow-men:
"I have whistled up sprites to bestow my new lights
On all that is ancient, exclusive, and dark ;—
>>
I have spread around knowledge-I build London College-
I have steam on the Thames, I have gas in the Park.
No longer a minister frowns and looks sinister,
When philosophy mingles with maxims of state;
Economical squires deride their grand-sires,
And reasoning citizens lead the debate."
END OF VOL. I.
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.

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