. THEIR LIFE AND WORK BY THE REV.D* TWEE DIE. sJl taAuif Jfotes at Tor Tcustasub tnai THOMAS ; YOHK. EARNEST MEN THEIR LIFE AND WORK. W. K. TWEEDIE, D.D.. AUTHOR OF "THE EARLY CHOICE," "SUCCESS IN LIKE," ETC. LONDON: T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW; EDINBURGH; AND NEW YOKK. 1872. BOOK has been published in our day by a dis- tinguished nobleman, Lord Lindsay, under the title of " Progress by Antagonism." The thought expressed by that title is presented in many lights, and with great fertility of illustration, and embodies what seems to be a general law in our world. It operates in the conduct of moral agents with the universality of gravitation in material things, and the following pages tend to illustrate the law, in a popular form, from many different points of view. In consequence of its operation, feeble minds are worth- less in stirring times, or at any important crisis. What would Cicero, great orator as he was, have been, had he stood alone, wailing and weeping like a woman, when calamities assailed him, or actually hastening to stretch out his neck for his assassins to smite? What would Melancthon, the timid, scholarly trimmer, have been with- out a bolder nature at hand to uphold him? Or what would Cranmer have been amid the trials which assailed him for the truth, and under which he more than faltered in his steadfastness, had not a higher power than his own raised him after his fall ] 2017752 But energy or decision of character may be educated like any other attainment. Those who are familiar with the self -discipline of such men as Ignatius Loyola are well aware of that fact. Every successive generation may be thus trained by studying the examples of those who have gone before; and an attempt is here made to promote such study. The contents of many volumes are condensed into one, to meet the requirements of our rapid age ; and by accustoming youth to fix the eye steadfastly upon those who have done great deeds struggling, but yet victors many more may learn to go and do likewise. In the rude collisions which virtue must encounter in a world like ours, or amid the hostility to which philanthro- pists and other benefactors of men are often exposed in their efforts to do good, it is sometimes difficult to realize the actual progress of man upon the whole. Yet that progress is real ; and it is equally opposed to Scripture and to fact to " say that the former times were better than these." The lives which follow both attest and explain that progress, and they are commended to the study of the young, that the coming generations may learn to be wiser, better, and nobler than the past. (Uontents, Chapter ** I. PRINCIPLES, 11 II. HEROES FOR THE TRUTH, 22 Basil the Great, 26 Columba of lona, 37 John Huss, 52 William Tyndale, ... 66 Hans Egede, 89 Carey, Marshraan, and Ward, ... 105 Dr. Claudius Buchanan, 137 III. ... 159 Granville Sharp, ... ... ... 162 Robert Raikes, 174 Edward Jenner, ... 186 Arctic Explorers, ... ... 209 IV. PATRIOTS, ... 236 Alfred the Great, 340 Dante Alighteri, ... 257 John Hampden, ... 267 Algernon Sydney, ... 283 Lord William Russell, ... 300 Edmund Burke, 316 Henry G rattan, ... 837 ... 346 Silvio Pelllco, ... 367 V. MEN OF SCIENCE AND THK ARTS, ... 388 Johann Gutenberg, ... ... 887 Michael Angelo Buonnroti, ... 401 Bernard Palissy, ... 421 John Kepler, ... 444 James Watt, ... 461 EARNEST MEN. CHAPTER I. Rut of our souls, the high-born loftier part, Th' ethereal energies that touch the heart; Conceptions ardent, labouring thought intense, Creative fancy's wild magnificence; And all the dread sublimities of song These, Virtue, these to thee alone belong. Chilled by the breath of vice, their radiance dies, And brightest burns when lighted at the skies; Like vestal lamps to purest bosoms given, And kindled only by a ray from Heaven." LORD GLKNBLO. The temptation and fall-Brief examples of decision A prodigal turned miser The decision of Camillus A Roman embassy Julius Caesar Calvin The battle of Marengo, Dessaix Buonaparte Religious decision Athanasius Luther A female martyr. [E who deliberates about doing what is wrong will most probably do it. Our safety and our strength lie in instant and decided rejection. Satan's victory was already half won when Eve listened to his flattery, and asked him to conduct her to the tree where the serpent said he had acquired the power of speech. The words, " Indeed I Hath God then said that of the fruit Of all these garden trees ye shall not eat, Tet lords declared of all in earth or air?" really involved the fall, when Eve consented to hear them 12 DECISION OP CHARACTER without an instinctive recoil ; and it has been the same with myriads of her sons and daughters since that fatal hour. To parley with the wrong is wrong. Hence the need of energetic and instantaneous decision of flight rather than parley, and of a determined struggle rather than yield. The history of the world furnishes many illustrations of the effects of decision. If we refer to a few, they will best define and briefly explain the object of the following chapters. He who has perhaps acquired the best right to address us on the subject of " Decision of Character," * has recorded the case of a youth who had wasted his patrimony in profligacy and folly. His associates, who gathered round him, like flies round a decaying carcase, as long as he had the means to pamper and indulge them, forsook him and fled when he had become a penniless beggar. He was reduced to utter want, and suicide became his choice in preference to the degrada- tion into which he had sunk On the way to a secret spot whence he could rush, unhindered and red with his own murder, into the presence of the Judge, his eye chanced to wander over the wide domains which he had once called his own. He could not leave the scene, and after hours of self-communing, he rose from the earth, where he lay in his abjectness, with the resolution formed in his mind that these domains should one day be all his own again. And action followed resolution, as shadow follows sub- stance in sunshine. That prodigal instantly proceeded to carry his purpose into effect. He stooped to become a menial and a drudge. He hoarded every farthing he could earn, and sometimes approached the verge of starvation ere he would expend any part of his earnings even upon necessary food. No occupation however mean, no degradation however deep, could make him swerve from his purpose. It took possession of his whole soul The gains of one adventure were made a John Foster. EXAMPLES. 13 stepping-stone from which to rise to higher and still higher things, till at last the resolute man accomplished his object. He added unit to unit, ten to ten, and thousand to thousand, till the patrimony of his fathers was recovered, though in re- covering it he had become an inveterate miser. He died at last worth ^60,000 ; and such is a lucid illustration of the power or the results of decision not certainly of an elevated kind, but not the less fitted to show what man may become when his whole soul is concentrated upon one master object. An undecided man proclaims by his indecision that he was meant to be possessed by others ; his conduct must be that of a satellite at best ; while a decided man as loudly tells that he was meant to command. He will not submit to events ; on the contrary he will make events submit to him. The history of Rome abounds in examples of intense decision. The city was besieged by the Gauls in the time of the Republic, and so hard was it pressed that the Romans consented to purchase immunity with gold. But while they were in the act of weighing it, a legend tells that Camillus appeared, threw his sword into the scales instead of the ransom, and indicated by that action that he at least would not purchase peace he would win it. A battle was accord- ingly fought ; the siege was raised, and the enemy were triumphantly swept from the sacred soil, all in consequence of the decision and the promptitude of one bold man the second Romulus of the city. Again ; about one hundred and seventy years before the Christian era, Antiochus Epiphanes invaded Egypt which was then under the protection of Rome. Application was made to the Romans for assistance, and an embassy was sent which met Antiochus not far from Alexandria. The ambas- sador who was selected for that mission haughtily requested the invader to withdraw. He gave an evasive reply, but with his sword the Roman, on the instant, swept a circle 14 CROSSING THE RUBICON. round the king, and insisted on an answer before he dared to cross that line. By this decision the invasion was brought to an end, war was prevented, and the ambassador gave one proof more of the effects which man can accomplish when he gives himself wholly to realize some cherished result. Without such energy of decision men may be pretentious or grandiose ; they can never be great. Further ; Julius Caesar was marching with his triumphant legions along the shores of the Adriatic, and reached the Rubicon which there formed the boundary of Italia the sacred and inviolable. For a time he paused upon the northern bank, for even he faltered at the thought of invad- ing a territory which no general might enter with an army without the permission of the senate. Such was the state of matters that the alternative which Caesar had to face was this Destroy myself, or destroy my country ! But he was not slow to resolve. "The die is cast!" was his prompt exclamation, and Caesar crossed the Rubicon at the head of one of his legions. This also was the deed of a bold decided man. It was an act which involved the life or death of thousands. It led to battle after battle it may even be said to have decided the current of the world's history from that day to this. Had Caesar been undecided, while he gazed across that little stream, the whole future of the nations might have possessed a different aspect ; but to his other gifts, the man who was at once a general, a statesman, a lawgiver, a jurist, an orator, a poet, an historian, a mathematician and an architect, and great in nearly all of them, added a promp- titude which sometimes made an action a flash. " I came, I saw, I conquered," aptly describes his decision. But this man's history supplies many other examples of determination. He landed in Britain, and was boldly opposed by its people. Though not a match for Roman legions led bv Julius Caesar, the men of our island were even CAESAR COLUMBUS LOYOLA. 15 then determined to let no foreign power be dominant here, if their blood could prevent it. Caesar soon saw what spirit reigned, and to commit his soldiers to victory or death, it la well known that he burned the ships which had borne them to our shores. It was once more the action of a man determined to carry out his purposes at all hazards, and enlisting even desperation in his cause, and such an action is a key to the triumphs and the character of Julius Csesar. One can believe that such a man would not scruple to cause the death of two millions and a half of human beings, as Csesar did, to slake and gratify his ambition. The union of an earnestness which is almost passionate with practical sagacity, renders a man fit for any thing human ; and Csesar possessed both of these properties. In him, they seemed to say, as one has said, " I am linked to my determination with iron bands ; it clings to me with the tenacity of my fa te. " The untam cable power of such decisiveness, illustrated in the life of Columbus in one aspect, and in that of Loyola in another, invests a soul with a grandeur such as little minds can never gage. What the feeble may attempt in paroxysms, or under intense excitement, the great do as a calm habit, and they sometimes wonder why other men admire what the decided could not help doing. Again, at the siege of Pampeluna, early in the sixteenth century, when he was still a gay cavalier, Ignatius Loyola had his limb factured, and was long confined to his couch by the wounds which he had received. The broken bone waa not well set, and threatened to disfigure him for life a thought which he could not easily endure, and with the calm fortitude of a strong-willed soul, he broke his own limb once more that the new setting might afford another chance of elegance. The second fracture threatened to end in death, but it was the act of a bold, decided nature such a nature as superstition might first mould, and then employ 16 CALVIN BUONAPARTE DESSAIX. for the most daring and energetic designs, as we know was eventually the case. Again ; it is well known that Calvin's efforts to advance the Reformation in Geneva led to keen and violent opposition. A profligate faction, called " The Libertines," caused many troubles in the city ; and on one occasion it was understood that some of the men who acted in that manner, designed, in spite of their atrocities, to partake of the Holy Communion. Calvin learned their purpose ; he threw himself across their path, in the Church of St. Peter, and declared that if they dared to approach such a solemnity while steeped in guilt, they must do so over his dead body. By that act of intrepid decision the evil was averted. In modern times examples of a similar kind abound. It is well known that at the battle of Marengo, the French army was defeated during the earlier part of the day, and Buonaparte and his staff were assembled to consider their next move, when Dessaix, who subsequently fell on that field, suggested that there was yet time to retrieve the disaster. On the spot, he counselled a renewal of the action ; it was renewed, and won, for the Austrians were driven with great slaughter from the scene where they had so lately triumphed. That general was decided, and such decision was the harbinger of victory, though also of his death. In another engagement, fought during winter, Buonaparte saw some of his enemy's forces crossing a lake which was frozen at the time. In an instant he resolved upon an easy victory and though it was the decision of a diabolical spirit, it accomplished its object. He commanded some heavy ar- tillery instantly to play upon the ice ; it was done, and the columns perished at once by fire and water, when the fragile bridge which bore them sank beneath their feet. That resolute will which subdued to itself nearly the whole of Europe, was all concentrated in that destructive command. Multiply such ASTOR GIKARD. 17 actions by a thousand, and we have the rise and the grandeur of Buonaparte: his fall and his littleness, suggest other thoughts which are not at present to be pursued. Self-made men of every class, from those who vault into a throne and found a dynasty as Buonaparte did, down to those who become millionaires, like Astor, or Girard, all possess this decision. By seizing the tide at the full they are floated " on to fortune," while those who are born to rule, rule with glory under the guidance of such a principle. Such, for ex- ample, was the inflexible resolution of Queen Elizabeth of England that in her family, her court, her Church, and her kingdom, she was equally mistress : she scarcely tolerated a second near her throne. But it is in the domain of religion that we may expect to find the most satisfactory examples of decision. It is not left merely to the appeals or the poetry of men to plead with us, " Be wise to-day, 'tis madness to defer :" the only wise God is no less urgent. " To-day, if ye will hear his voice ;" "I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing, saying, choose," are the counsels of the Supreme ; and the Bible abounds with maxims which enforce them. " If the Lord be God, follow him ; but if Baal be God, then follow him," calls on man to decide and not to falter or halt be- tween two opinions. " Give thyself wholly to these things ; " inculcates entire consecration. " What thy hands find to do, do it with all thy might," indicates the energy which should be concentrated upon what we undertake. " He that is not with me is against me," unequivocally shows that indecision is hostility, when that indecision relates to him who is the truth. " One thing I do," tells that the man who employed the words had discovered how unwise it is to let our powers run to waste amid distracting pursuits. " Would thou wert either cold or hot!" expresses the earnest longing of Him who came to save us. And further still, the first and 18 ATHANASIUS. great commandment, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God witn all thy heart, and all thy soul, and all thy strength and .mind," proclaims as from his very throne, what should be first, last, and supreme in the soul the one overmastering, all-absorbing principle. The man who is actuated by that great command has one thing to do : he does it, and that is decision. Once more : " It is good to be zealously affected in a good thing," shows how the heart is to be thrown into what we undertake, if we would do good in our day and generation. But, above all, the following words seem to concentrate and condense all that can be said on this subject. " Behold this selfsame thing, that ye sorrowed after a godly sort, what carefulness it wrought in you, yea, what clearing of your- selves, yea, what indignation, yea, what fear, yea, what vehe- ment desire, yea, what zeal, yea, what revenge ! In all things ye have approved yourselves to be clear in this matter." Here we have some of the most commanding principles that reign in man's heart employed to reinforce his religious decision. A place is found in the soul even for revenge revenge upon sin for the multiform sorrows which it has occasioned to man. For an example of such decision we may quote the case of Athanasius. He had welcomed the truth as his guide, and though he expressed it in language which all would not adopt (if the creed called by his name be his) he was illustrious as a defender of truth. For his steadfast- ness, however, he was deposed from his bishopric by a Coun- cil, and banished to Treves by the Emperor Constantine. But that emperor, two years thereafter, ordered Atha- nasius to be restored to his charge, where his flock would not receive him. After other two years he was again re- stored, but only to be again banished by Constantius, and obliged to flee into the desert. Having subsequently returned LUTHER. 19 he was once more banished under Julian the apostate, then recalled by Jovian, then banished once more by Valens, and after all, he was recalled from his fifth exile to his home in Alexandria. Now, did these things shake the confidence did they at all modify the convictions of Athanasius? Nay, he continued steadfast and unmoveable amid them all It was " Athanasius against the world," so widespread was the defection from truth, and so determined his adherence to it. Another example is found in the case of Luther. He was cited to answer for his opinions before the Diet of Worms, and proceeded thither under the protection of a passport, which many believed would not secure his -safety. He was implored not to go; the case of John Huss was quoted to scare him ; for that reformer, with such a safeguard in his possession, was burnt to death for his religion. Luther, however, was not to be deterred. He had chosen his path, and was determined, God helping him, to pursue it. His well-known exclamation was, " I am called in the name of God to go, and I would go, though I were certain to meet as many devils in Worms as there are tiles on the houses." The same energy may be seen not seldom in weak woman- hood ; perhaps the grandest display of decision which the world has witnessed has been made by her. On the mar- gin of a bleak bay in what was then a bleak part of Scotland, there were assembled, nearly two hundred years ago, a band of bloody men the tools of still fiercer persecutors. They had fastened two women to stakes to die for their religious convictions, in such a position that the flowing tide would slowly drown them. One of them was aged, and the other youthful, and in the hope of shaking the constancy of the girl, her companion was placed nearest the ocean that she might die first, and under the eyes of the other sufferer. That girl's only crime was refusing to let men dictate to her conscience regarding Him whom she honoured as her re- 20 PERSECUTION. deeiner ; and was she shaken in her purpose either by the death of her fellow sufferer, or by the surge threatening to engulf herself? Did she blanch before either her murderers or the sea ? Nay, the heroine held fast by her heroism, and though rescued when half drowned, in the cruel hope that she might then recant, she resolutely refused. " I am Christ's ; let me go ! " was her cry, when tempted by the offer of life to com- mit what she held to be a sin, and that also was decision decision amid the horrors of a terrible death, in a girl who was only eighteen years of age. We do not speak here of the secret of her decision : it was God-given and mighty in his strength ; we refer only to the fact, and it illustrates well the more than mortal energy with which the mind is nerved when it is " thoroughly persuaded." Such, then, is decision of heart, and soul, and life in some great and worthy object. He who counselled his friend to "do something do it do it do it and do it at once," exactly defined the spirit of a man who is decided in up- holding the right; but the instances already glanced at are d igned merely to announce what is meant by such decision, or to intimate the energy which is needed if we would do good. When the Highest dwelt among the sons of men, His life was one long effort one long self- denial one august self-sacrifice. He passed without repose from place to place, by sea, by mountain, in the desert, in the city, everywhere working the Father's work, till the life-long struggle was completed by the noblest work of all by suffering unto death. Now that is the all-embrac- ing model, and the examples which follow in detail, are de- signed to show how much depends upon the possession of such a spirit of calm determination, whatever we pursue. " We are not careful to answer thee in this matter," was the quiet reply of a servant of the Great King when a despot threatened him with death by the lions, because conscience THE SECRET OF OUR STRENGTH. 21 refused to call a creature its Lord; and that answer em- bodies the unruffled spirit of the man who has learned to fear God, and have no other fear. To be thus decided for truth and to continue so amid trials, or even torments, is a sure presage of real grandeur. How serene might life become how rapid the progress of men in the path to that glory which the world can only counterfeit, were such decision common the decision which seeks to do everything for the truth and nothing against it ! But in such a cause there is only one solid basis for decision, the strength of the Unchanging One. All else is like a dream when one awakes a building on the sand. Kingdoms rise and fall kings occupy a palace to-day, to-morrow they are without a home. Man's truth this hour is man's lie the next. The right on one side of a mountain or a river, is the wrong upon the other : only the word of the Lord endureth for ever, and that is the basis of all religi- ous decision. We must there confront the scorn of the haughty, and the mirth of the fool, the hatred of the malig- nant, and the opposition of the stupid or the blind. But just as Caesar burnt his ships, to cut off all hope of retreat, or just as some when they draw the sword, cast the scab- bard away, or just as some nail their colours to the mast, determined to conquer or to sink with their ship, we should intrepidly confront what impedes us in the heavenward way. Daniel and Nebuchadnezzar's decree, Luther at the Diet, Huss at Constance, Tyndale at Vilvorde, and a " great cloud" before their murderers, are our models here ; and in their foot- steps, the tame may be roused to energy, the feeble to deci- sion. In carrying out her bloody convictions, many an In- dian widow has joyfully mounted the funeral pile of her husband, and made it also her own. Now she did it for an earthly end, a dread delusion. What shall we do for heav- enly truth? The lives of some of its heroes may reply. (20) 2 CHAPTER II. jjmr.es far % Cnrtjr. " The heights by great men readied and kept Were not attained by sadden flight; But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upwards In the night" LONGFELLOW. is a formidable thing to enter a city like Lucknow, or Delhi, or any other stronghold, when it is held by a numerous enemy, fanatically fierce, and count- ing it paradise to die in the cause for which they fight. Loop-holed walls on the right and on the left, an enemy with a musket at every aperture, and friends falling fast beside you all these test a soldier's courage. If ever he may reasonably be a coward at all, it is when his antagonist is, for the most part, invisible, and when nothing or little is seen but the muzzle of a weapon ready to lodge its con- tents in the unshielded person of the soldier. And yet there is something which has tried the courage of men far more than such peril Amid the noise and the ex- citement of war, man is roused to resistance he has no alter- native but to contend, and that to the death. But in moral warfare the case is altered. To defend the truth which most men dislike, to uphold the cause from which multitudes are open deserters, or to which they are secret enemies, to resist the sneer, or the pity, or the laugh, which often waits on those who stand up for truth and the right, may de- mand an amount of calm courage which is not needed amid the garments rolled in blood of the battle-field. Some have TRUE HEROISM. 23 found it more difficult to resist the force of a sneer than to face a legion ; some have proved cowards before ridicule who have marched against thousands without one beat of the pulse the more ; some have yielded to the smiling enticements of wickedness who could never have been terrified by any sight of danger not the rack, the dungeon, nor the stake. But, on the other hand, there have been many who stood courageously up for truth, even when it seemed to have fallen in the streets. They were not daunted by the opposi- tion of ignorance ; they could not be silenced by gainsay ers ; they refused to compromise what they believed to be divine, and felt to be mighty, whether for comfort or alarm ; and they moved forward unchecked amid all opposition. Flat- tery and frowns, blandishments and dungeons, king's palaces and a cross or a gibbet had no power to turn them from their steadfast way. They were what they were by the help of God ; and their faith in Him made them strong. The following sections are meant to sketch the lives of some men who were valiant for the good and the true, and who wrought out their purposes with unswerving persist- ency. The greatest hero of our age, or at least the most signal conqueror, is reported to have said to a minister of religion that his " marching orders," the Bible, should form his only guide, and many a soldier in what Bunyan has depicted as " The Holy War," has honestly consulted, and heroically followed his marching orders amid much that threatened to retard or harass him. It is the heroism of these men, their unflinching determination to do good, that is here presented as a model, in the various departments of life. And the age our country the world needs such men more than ever. Evil has been developed till it has become gigantic ; the huge Upas which has blighted the earth never 24 THORWALDSEN IN HIS STUDIO. shot forth its branches or diffused its poison more widely than in our day. How, then, is it to be counteracted ? By the diffusion of the pure and the true; and that can be better done by presenting models than by abstract maxims. We have seen Thorwaldsen in his studio at Rome, busy upon a group of statues which were designed to adorn a royal palace in his native land. The figures stood before him, slowly emerging into life and beauty under his hand and chisel. He had models beside him, and he con- sulted them : but he had a more perfect model in his own mind. That he could not entirely reach, but on he wrought, by blow after blow, by touch after touch ; now the contour more rounded, and now the expression more life-like, inde- finitely approaching his ideal The great sculptor eyed his handiwork from this point, from that, from many ; he retreated to a distance, he came nearer, and his eye, deep- lored in the beautiful, created fresh attractions even where all had seemed symmetry before. Now would we thus work out moral beauty? Setting some standard, not ideal but actual, before us, would we go on unto perfection, and leave our mark upon our age, so as to be missed when we die? Then be it ours to study model men, and mark what made them what they were. Testing all by the only perfect model, be it our business to note how men stood, or how men fell in the battle of life. So shall we find stepping stones through the rapids which might otherwise sweep us away, or help in hours of weak- ness when we might otherwise falter, or hope at times when we might despair, and either sink into feebleness, or have power only for evil. Every human being is a centre of influence for good or for ill. No man can live unto himself. The meshes of a net are not more surely knit together than man to man. We may forget this secret, silent influence. But we are exerting SILENT INFLUENCE. 25 it by our deeds, we are exerting it by our words, we are exerting it by our very thoughts, and he is wise with a wisdom more than that of earth, who seeks to put forth the highest power for good, be his home a hut or a hall, a cabin or a palace. True, all this may have nothing heavenly in it. It may never rise higher than a few feet above the level of the earth. But would we ascend into the region where our influence stretches into eternity ? Would we not merely soothe the sorrows of the mortal, but, more- over, promote the joys of the undying ? Then Truth must be lodged deep in the soul. The right arm of the All-power- ful must be grasped by the hand of faith, and then the child of the dust is invested with a portion of Omnipotence. He becomes a fellow-worker with God, and some examples of this heroism and decision are here to be submitted. I. BASIL THE GREAT. A.D. 316-379. " Immortal Truth ! make known Thy deathless wreaths, and triumphs all thine own ; The silent progress of thy power is such, Thy means so feeble and despised so much, That few helieve the wonders thou hast wrought, And none can track them but whom thon hast taught." COWPER. Basil's era His parents His studies and travels Becomes acquainted with Julian the Apostate His trials begin Firmness Persecuted by Julian Other troubles and successes The Emperor Valens assails him Basil's intrepidity exemplified Closing scenes His character, life-work, and death. jHE question has been asked, Whether do great events call forth great men, or great men occasion great events ? The partizans on either side of the alternative can support their views with many specious illustrations : they can make it appear that had certain com- binations not occurred, there would have been nothing to call forth the energies, or develop the powers of the men of those times ; or, on the other hand, they can show that these com- binations might have happened again and again, and passed unheeded after all, had there not lived a Christian, a hero, a statesman, or a patriot fitted to turn them to account. But, in truth, neither of these views can be exclusively maintained. They belong to a mixed class of topics, where there is neither an absolute standard, nor the possibility of always reaching a demonstrable result. Enough, then, to know that when great occasions arise, some will be raised up to profit by them ; when a gifted agent appears, aiming at something higher, purer, better than HEROIC PRINCIPLE. 27 the present, he will find or create a sphere for his energies. It may be true that "some mute inglorious Miltons" have passed unknown through life ; or that some Cromwell has lived and died "guiltless of his country's blood;" but while the world is under the guardianship of Omniscience we may be sure that the Mighty Ruler will adapt the man to the times, and the times to the man : they act and re-act like the ocean wearing away the land, yet the land, after all, bounding the ocean. BASIL called THE GREAT, was one whom his times most probably made what he was. It is believed that Csesarea in Cappadocia, or Neo-Csesarea, was his birth-place, and his parents and ancestors were noble. He was born about the year 316, and died on the first of January 379. At that period, superstition was rushing into the Church like water into a leaky vessel at sea. Anchorets were hasten- ing away in thousands to dens, and caves, and deserts. Simple truth was not then sufficient for men, they must mingle their own devices with it, and the foundation of many corruptions had thus been laid, long prior to the birth of Basil Legends are accordingly mixed up with his life which are to be utterly discarded. They are the fictions of wonder-seekers, and not the facts of history excrescences on his character, not vital parts of it, and dismissing all these, the lessons of Basil's life will show us what one reso- lute man may accomplish what heroic principle directed to right results may achieve, either in preventing evil, or in promoting good among the sons of men. From his youth, Basil had before him, in his parents, an example of undaunted devotedness. They passed through times of hot persecution, during which unprecedented woes were endured, for the malignity of paganism was then doing its worst. Exile, and all its miseries, and want in many forms were their lot ; but none of these things moved them, and the 28 THE SCIENCE OP SALVATION. father, Basil, with the mother, Emmelia, both endured these hardships in their own persons, and taught their eldest son and second child to prize what they valued beyond country, home, and life itself. After spending five years in acquiring elementary know- ledge at home, he proceeded to increase his stores abroad. Antioch, Caesarea in Palestine, Athens, Constantinople, and other places were visited, and Syria and Alexandria in Egypt are mentioned among those where he resided. The philo- sophy of their schools, then famous, was mastered, but even then he appears to have been devoted to what is, in truth, the flower and crown of all the sciences the science of salvation, the knowledge of that plan which came from heaven to guide men thither. At Athens, Basil became acquainted with Julian, afterwards the apostate Emperor, and had for his teacher a famous sophist whom the Emperor Constans sent to Rome where a statue was erected to his honour, bearing the proud inscription, " Rome, the Queen of cities, to the King of eloquence." But Athens did not meet the mental wants of Basil : its happiness he called " a hollow felicity ;" it was the happiness of mere learning without the supreme knowledge. At Antioch, he began to plead causes as a lawyer, but that also he found to be uncongenial work, and the Holy Scriptures now became his master study, so that his whole life and history takes its character and hue from them. Nor was he long without some trial of his firmness and decision. Julian, whom Basil, we have seen, knew as a fellow-student at Athens, was now the Roman Emperor. He had renounced Christianity, and declared himself a pagan, and yet he invited Basil to his court with a suspicious show of tolera- tion and indulgence. The zealous man was not, however, to be moved even by imperial blandishments, and declined the invitation making, at the same time, no secret of the CHEISTIAN BOLDNESS. 29 reason, his pain at the apostasy of his former friend. Julian now haughtily rebuked him for the audacity of such a course, and, moreover, fined him in a sum equivalent to nearly 40,000 of our money. It was oy such means that the renegade Emperor sought at once to gratify his resentment, to repress the Chris- tians, and replenish his treasury. Withal, however, Julian did not know the power which guided Basil, nor the reso- lution of that calm but indomitable man. The apostate had no line long enough to fathom the depths, no skill profound enough to gage the motives, which swayed a soul like that of Basil, whose moral heroism was mightier far than the imperial sceptre ; and his reply to the Emperor's rescript was felt to be quick and pungent. "You have exposed yourself," he said in substance, "to the condemnation of wise men. Seduced by the evil one, you have exalted yourself against God and his Church ; you have belied the promise of your youth, and as to the fine, you need not expect much from one who has not food for a single day, whose house is a stranger to a cook, and whose fare is herbs and a crust with wine which is both sour and vapid."* Julian soon appeared more and more in the true character of an apostate, and because the Christians at Cassarea dared to uphold their religion or obey their conscience, he perse- cuted them with rigour ; he fined, imprisoned, and tormented. Basil was one of two who were supposed to be reserved for a public death, had the tyrant returned alive from his Persian wars. Such was Basil's first trial, the first flash from the flint struck by the steel ; at least it was this collision with an * Dnrlni? this correspondence, Julian, imitating the first Csesnr, wrote In reference to Basil's remonstrance: "I have read it, considered It, condemned it," to which Basil rejoined, " Though you read, you did not understand, for had yon understood, you would not have condemned." That is the explanation of all infidelity (John viL 17). 30 NEW TRIALS. imperial persecutor which first showed his decision in de- fence of the truth, and the eager agitations of his day soon tested him more and more. But though resolute against external assailants, he was averse to contention among Christians themselves, and rather than be drawn into unseemly strifes, he withdrew to solitude and a desert. Acting too much in the spirit of the age, he was there much engaged in planning schemes for monastic retirement, and unwisely encouraged and fostered a system which was then rising like a flood to overflow the Church. But he soon discovered that the desert afforded no guarantee for peace. 4i He had shifted the scene, but had not changed his state : he had fled from Csesarea to avoid noise and contention, and only met with vexations and disquietudes nearer at hand." Charge after charge was heaped upon him by some of his enemies : he was compelled, in spite of himself, to act in self- defence, but once more he displayed the same resoluteness in repelling a faction which he had before evinced in combat- ing an Emperor. Though excessively and ignorantly attached to the life and habits of a monk, because the strong current of the age swept him along in that direction, Basil was forward and bold in defending every portion of the truth that was challenged in his day. He everywhere helped to unmask deception, and though this brought him into collision with another Emperor, the Arian Valens, he would not swerve, on that account, from his own decided convictions. As a reso- lute and dexterous champion, or like one who, in years long subsequent to the era of Basil, did not fear the face of man, he had to confront hostility in many forms, from the purple to the populace, but remained undaunted amid it all Abuses were corrected, and his daily assaults on the enemies of the truth drove them at times discomfited from the field. Though not yet exalted to any high dignity in the PERSECUTION. 31 Eastern Church, he already directed many of its affairs, and with equal energy and sagacity, promoted whatever could advance the interests of truth. In many respects, he was the model of a Christian man, loving, prompt, tender, resolute, fearing God, and having no other fear. The Emperor, Basil's enemy, having triumphed in a war against the Goths, now determined to press upon his subjects the adoption of his own religious views. Holding that " the only wise God our Saviour" was a creature, he wished to compel others to hold his blasphemy with him ; and one of his prefects attempted, by promises first and then by threats, to bring Basil over to the side of error and the Emperor. But the attempt was vain. He stood unmoved alike by frowns and smiles ; and for a time he was spared, though it was only to encounter a sharper trial in the end. About this time he was made a bishop, and troubles soon thickened around him. Factions raged, enemies assailed, but still he would not yield. In spite of envy and opposition, he held on his way. Truth needed a firm defender, and he was steadfast. It became manifest that he knew how to act upon the advice of a friend, and " maintain his ground like a rock in the midst of the sea." But Valens at length attempted to carry out his design of corrupting the Church without leaving room for differ- ence of opinion. On that errand he came to Csesarea, where Basil abode, and as he had baffled the imperial endeavours before, will he yield to them now? Are truth and Basil to fall together? On the contrary, he boldly confronted the agents of the emperor, and gave place, no not for an hour, either to empurpled oppression, or to official insolence. The emperor's prefect demanded of Basil why he presumed to oppose the imperial religion, when all others yielded? His answer was that a higher Emperor hindered him. " I can never worship a created God," he said, " since I may 32 FAITH TRIUMPHANT. myself be a partaker of the divine nature; commands like yours are nullities." The rejoinder of the prefect was characteristic : " Is it not an honour to have us on your side?" and Basil loyally replied, " I grant you to be governors and very illustrious persons, but Christianity is to be measured not by dignity of persons, but by soundness in the faith." The prefect, irritated and incensed, exclaimed, " What ! are you not afraid of the power we are armed with?" And Basil calmly asked in his turn, " What can I suffer ? " " All that is in my power," was the retort. "But what is that? Con- fiscation of goods ? Banishment ? Tortures or death ? If there be anything worse, threaten it, for of these none can touch us." Amazed by such boldness, the prefect asked for explanation, and Basil answered, "That man is not afraid of confiscation who has nothing to lose unless you want these tattered clothes, and my books, my whole estate. Banishment I regard not, for I am tied to no place .... The whole earth is God's, whose pilgrim and sojourner I am. As for tortures, what can they do? .... Set aside the first blow, and there is nothing more in your power. And then, for death, I shall esteem it a kindness and a benefit ; it will but sooner send me to God." .... Such a spirit was Basil's brave to intrepidity in the face of danger, and the cause of truth. Though assailed by threats, as well as tempted by promises, he had felt the supreme fear,* and all besides was feeble. Basil is ranked by some among the greatest orators of antiquity, and his closing appeal to the prefect makes the opinion probably correct. " When the cause of God and religion is at stake, we over- look all else, and fix our eyes only upon Him. In such cases, fire and sword, wild beasts, and instruments to tear off the flesh piece-meal are a pleasure rather than a torment to us. BANISHMENT FOR THE TRUTH. 33 You may therefore reproach and threaten us ; do your plea- sure, and use your power but let the emperor know you cannot conquer us, for you shall never prevail to make us confederate with Arians ; no, though you should threaten worse things than you have yet done. And as for the advan- tage which you proposed, and the favour of the emperor, offer these things to boys or to children, who are wont to be caught with such gaudy baits I highly prize the emperor's friendship, when I can have it with truth, and the favour of heaven, but without that I look upon it as pernicious and deadly." This man was told, like one far greater than he, that he was mad ; but his resolution was impregnable. He wished to be more mad still, and the report to the emperor was that no threatening could shake Basil, no argument could move him, no promises allure he must either be vanquished by force or not at all. For a time, therefore, he escaped again, out at last a decree for his banishment was obtained from the emperor, and Basil's steadfastness was uow tested to the uttermost. And all this came upon him because he would not abate one jot of the truth literallya single jot.* He would not sur- render even that when it involved the mind of God, and he was therefore resolute beyond the power of imperial majesty to shake him. A time-server would have yielded without a struggle in a thing apparently so small. A man who did not know the truth, or did not prize it, would have surrendered it without compunction. But Basil would not : he would die rather, and the Church will be his debtor till time shall be no more. He knew the power, some have called it the omnipotence, of words ; his heroism was therefore employed to prevent man from giving currency to one which embodied Had he been willing to use the word fyioi-ovo-io?, Instead of 6jio-ovcriER. JHERE is nothing more remarkable we are induced to say it once more in all God's world, than the agony which it often costs to accomplish any good. No great invention was ever allowed to go abroad till it was tested by an opposition which threatened to crush it in its cradle ; no new principle ever was developed into practical application without encountering a hostility which seemed likely to defraud the world of the whole. For example, Sir Isaac Newton read off the theory of the skies. He thrid his way through the labyrinth of the stars; and though he left much for subsequent philosophers to fill up, he at least showed them how to guide their way through inquiries which had baffled the previous ages. But he was checked, thwarted, assailed, and his own college was the last to adopt his system. And Luther re-revealed a grand central truth, one of the stars of the spiritual firmament, and bade it shine once more upon the sons of men, but the world knows with what result. He was dragged from place to place for that truth's sake ; he had to stand before princes on its behalf; a pope excommunicated him ; an emperor would have put him to THE PROPAGATION OF TRUTH. 237 death if he could ; and in the person of that solitary monk, truth had to struggle heroically on its way to daylight. Both he and it would have been buried out of sight, had he been given up to the power of man. And Galileo proved to the nations that the sun is the centre of our system that the earth and other worlds roll around it. But that also must involve persecution. Priestly intolerance must deny the demonstrations of science ; and the philosopher who had discovered a fact which was to give consistency to the magnificent investigations of astro- nomy, must go down upon his knees before Inquisitors, to confess that he had erred in adopting a truth. But why mention merely mortal examples of the fact that it is by pangs and throes that truth is born into the world ? He who was the Truth itself had the same enmity to encoun- ter, the same persecution to face. He offered men pardon ; they hastened to consummate their guilt by putting him to death. He offered them life ; " Away with him, away with him ; crucify him, crucify him," was their reply. He was to " give his life a ransom for many ;" but the answer of his countrymen was, " His blood be on us and on our children;" so that in His case, as in all besides, good enters the world by means of throes and agonies. Evil is indigenous to earth. It is self-propagated, and seems to grow like those plants which spring up in some places, and in a way, for which no mortal can fully account ; but truth, even God's, must be propagated in dungeons, at stakes, on crosses and scaffolds. In no respect is all this more remarkable than as regards the love of country. Has a man stood forth the champion of freedom? Has he come to free groaning millions from the heel of the oppressor! Has some one tried to assert the rights of that deep conviction which dwells in every soul not brutified or blind that man was created to be freel 238 DEATH AND LIFE. Then despotism tries to crush, and has too often succeeded; it endeavours to perpetuate the ascendency of chains and bondage by the murder of the friends of freedom. What a tale could theBastile have unfolded? What says the Bass Rock ? What is the story of Neapolitan dungeons or papal Inquisitions, but a horrible comment on the efforts of tyranny to suppress the true and the free ? But while all this seems to possess the force of a general law, men have been raised up, in all ages, to dare the worst that tyranny could attempt. If it be true that the death of the martyrs is new life to the Church, it is no less true that the death of the patriot has become the life of freedom. It may have appeared, at times, as if oppression had triumphed, and its power become established by the slaughter or the exile of those who challenged its power. But there is a God that judges in the earth, and sooner or later oppres- sion recoils upon itself; it just stimulates into vigour the energy which breaks the arm of the oppressor, and recalls the exile to his home. What would be the condition of Italy in a single quarter of a century, were all its tyrants put down, and were that truth which proclaims liberty to the captive in all respects allowed to have free course there ? " Italy free from the Adriatic to the Alps," would no longer be the watchword of Imperial egotists truth and freedom would soon walk hand in hand through the lovely but down-trodden land. In the following sections the lives of some are sketched who have contended to the death, because they could not brook the bondage of their country. We know that the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God. There is a sense and a sphere in which it is true that they who take the sword shall perish by the sword ; but on the other ha.nd, the conduct of Gideon and his conquering band, not to mention Joshua, that prince among generals, makes it THE FATHERS OF FREEDOM. 239 plain that oppression may be resisted, and that unto the death. And what do we not owe in these last times to those who went down to the grave, rather than bow before the oppressor? Who wrought out the civil and religious liberties of Scotland when they were trodden in the dust by superstition and despotism in league? The Covenanters, in dungeons, on lonely moors, on the scaffold, or in exile. Who secured the British constitution as it has existed since the year 1688? The men who could face death, but would not stoop to oppression; who could forfeit all that is cherished here, but who would be no parties to the ascend- ency of a dark superstition. The memory of such men is dear to all who have inherited aught of their spirit and though, no doubt, some strove only for freedom in time, with- out caring for that which is for ever, God most high had so bound them up together, that the one led in the other. We sit under our own vines because our fathers did battle on the scaffold for the liberties of their children. Now, is it desirable that these liberties should be prized aright ? Is it desirable to hand them down unimpaired ? These ends may be promoted by studying the lives of those who were willing to die, if such were the appointment of their God, but were not willing to be enslaved. Some such lives are here sketched the lives, for example, of Russel and of Sydney, who died on the scaffold, and of Hampden, who bled in the field. Superstition in their day strove for the mastery ; it is doing the same in ours and would we walk in the footsteps of the fathers of British liberty ? Then let us study their example. I. ALFRED THE GREAT. A.D. 849-900. " Tender plants must bend ; But when a government is grown to strength, Like some old oak rough with its armed bark, It yields not to the tug, but only nods And turns to lofty state." DRTDKN. Great monarchs Alexander the Great Herod the Great Frederick the Great Alfred His birth His training and early difficulties A change The Restoration Reforms, 1. The kingdom subdivided ; 2. The British constitu- tion founded; 3. Trial by jury; 4. Administration of justice; 5. The British navy begun; 6. Oxford; 7. The arts under Alfred ; 8. Literature; 9. Religion Embassy to India A prayer Dying address to his son His domestic life His death His troubles His devotedness to the good and the true Sum- mation The moral. j : HERE is a marked tendency among men to dignify the objects of their idolatry with the epithet of great. Let us select three examples Alexander the Great, Herod the Great, and Frederick the Great to illustrate the wisdom or the folly of that custom. As to Alexander, we know what marvellous achievements he performed, and how he over-ran the world as it was known in his day, almost with the velocity or the violence of a tornado. But amid his military doings what of his character as a moral being ? Where does he stand in rela- tion to the Judge of all ? What was Alexander's conduct in regard to self-government, or self-sacrifice the latter the true mark of moral grandeur 1 In that respect, Alexander the Great was really an object of pity instead of the great soul of a hero, he could manifest the ferocity of a fiendish and malignant spirit. It is well known that Gaza with- MAN'S GREATNESS. 241 stood for some months the besieging army of the haughty conqueror, and the deeds of heroism which were then displayed might have commanded his admiration, had he been truly great. But far from that, when he got possession of the man who had fought so bravely for his home and his country, Alexander dragged the dead body twice round the city walls, in imitation of Achilles, his model. It was the doing of a brutal and ferocious nature, however it may be deified by men. Again, the same idolized hero, in a drunken brawl, killed his friend Clitus the man who had saved his mur- derer's life at the battle of the Granicus. Alexander was inconsolable for this loss, but the man who is dignified as great could not command his own fierce passions : he was both a drunkard and a murderer. Further, he is known to have hastened his own death by the quantity of wine which he drank at a banquet. He sickened, fevered, and died in a few days thereafter. But next, if we were to hear concerning any king that he had first put his queen to death, then one of his sons, then another, and then a third, the last just before his own demise, would our verdict upon such a man be high or very favourable ? Or if we learned that the same monarch was so incensed when he knew that his people were rejoicing in the prospect of his death, that he caused the chief men of his kingdom to be imprisoned, with orders that they should be butchered the instant that he died, in order, as he said, to make sure of mourning for him, could our encomiums on one so brutal be high ? He not merely waded through blood to a throne on earth, but even to take his place before the great white throne and that was the Herod whom men called the great! As to Frederick the Great, a single incident may suffice. 242 TRUE GREATNESS. He had issued an order, on a certain occasion, that all the lights in his camp should be extinguished by a certain hour at night, and watched in person the fulfilment of his law. Perceiving a light in the tent of an officer, the king entered, and found him in the act of closing a letter. Recognising the monarch, the subject immediately implored forgiveness, and in answer to a question, said that it was a letter written on the eve of battle to his wife. The king calmly desired him to re-open it, and add a sentence such as he should dictate. It was done, and that sentence inti- mated that next day, at a certain hour, the writer would be no more ; the letter was despatched, and the death which it announced was inflicted. Now, such an incident, which is in entire harmony with the character of Frederick, is one which proclaims him to have been the brutal rather than the great. The death might be due by the terrible laws of war ; but such barbarous trampling on affection could be the dictate of no mind but one that was steeled against the generous and the kindly in man. Yet Frederick also was called the great ! There are cases, however, in which the epithet is merited, and we are now to consider the life of one who earned and deserved the title. It was the saying of one of old " The good does not consist in the great ; but the great in the good," * and it is verified in the case of ALFRED THE GREAT. He was born at Wantage, in Berkshire, in the year 849, and was the youngest son of Ethelwolf, king of the West Saxons. Alfred succeeded his brother in the year 871, but the crown descended to him stained by the blood of that brother, who was slain in battle by the Danes. For a time Alfred hesitated to accept of such a crown, and the cares which wearing it implied. The times, however, * 'Owe v Toi /j(.eyaA

f anarchy which ended in the execution of a king, and the change of a dynasty. The royal prerogative, pushed to ex- travagant lengths, was slowly coming into collision with the liberty of the subject, goaded sometimes, perhaps, to a corre- sponding extreme. The question was gradually put into shape, and prepared for a dread solution, Whether shall one man live for the millions of England, or the millions of England for one man ? James I. said in as many words, "All is for one." Utterly destitute of all that could com- mand respect or win affection, that silliest of kings had acted as if the souls and the bodies of his subjects existed only for him. He was as insincere as Charles I., as profli- gate and unprincipled as Charles II., and as bigoted as James II. He could, with his own hand, write down in- structions for the torture of a criminal, and close them with the prayer " God prosper you in your good work ;" and thai was the man who claimed to hold sovereignty directly from God, by a divine and an indefeasible right. In public he engaged in controversy with Cardinal Bellarmine; in private he corresponded confidentially with that dignitary regarding his Church ; and, to crown the whole, he protested that " if he thought his son and heir could give any toleration to popery, he would wish him fairly buried before his eyes." Such was the man who began the dire collision which resulted in driving his family from the British throne. Scarcely was the first year of his reign in England brought LIFE-WORK. 271 to a close when his unconstitutional assumptions began. Arbitrary taxation, king-made laws, money extorted from his subjects to be lavished upon his minions, or wasted on debauchery and riot, all helped to precipitate matters till parliament was dissolved ; and when any of the members dared to act contrary to the royal despotism, that was the signal for dissolution. One parliament was dissolved after it had sat for only two months. But men were rising up to meet the emergency, and John Hampden was one of them. In the year 1620-1, he took his seat for the first time, as a member of the House of Com- mons. Delinquencies were so rife that common honesty demanded their exposure, and Hampden allied himself to those who sought to correct abuses. He was always dili- gent, and sometimes eager in the discharge of his duties; and here we may ask, as in other cases, What was the life- work of this man ? He did not press himself into notice; on the contrary, he was driven, by a sense of oppression, from a privacy which he loved ; and when he walked out into public life he was mature, as well as calm, in judgment. His was a character which must make itself felt, how then did he begin, and how did he continue ? All the boldness, all the calm decision, all the discretion, and all the wisdom which Hampden possessed were needed in his peculiar position. It was a dire necessity that was laid upon such a man to oppose his sovereign, instead of deferring, as he would have wished, to all that sovereign's pleasure. But Hampden must either face that necessity, or let his country be robbed in detail of many of its constitu- tional rights ; and he gave himself with characteristic deci- sion to the correction of abuses which the royal prerogative would have screened. Culprit after culprit was unmasked, and even Lord Bacon himself was detected and punished for the bribes which he had taken. No royal frown could deter 272 LORD BACON. a man like Hampden from exposing and reforming such disreputable doings: and Bacon's abject sense of his own degradation, as expressed in his own words, furnishes a melancholy comment on the painful doings of Hampden. The great chancellor, when detected, confessed; and his humble submission, " My lords, it is my act, my hand and my heart. I beseech your lordships to be merciful to a broken reed," forms, perhaps, one of the most humbling incidents in British history. Having entered on his life-work, then, John Hampdeu is soon to discover that it is not a sinecure. The House of Commons resolved that its members were free from all im- peachment, imprisonment, and molestation for any speech, or matter touching the parliament and its duties. But that was not to be tolerated by self-willed royalty. Shall it forego its cherished prerogative of silencing or sending to the Tower those who dare to stand up for the laws of Eng- land ? Nay, rather shall parliament be dissolved and dis- pensed with ; and having dissolved it, King James, with his own hand, blotted out the obnoxious declaration from the journals of Parliament. Nor did matters improve when James died and Charles succeeded. Along with his throne he inherited his father's pride, his scorn of the people's rights, and his insolent self-assertion. The war of opinion became more and more concentrated, and all the calm energy of such a man as Hampden was needed to contrive and to execute the measures which liberty now demanded. If he will have liberty, he must zealously contend for it. If grievances must be redressed, the redress must be extorted from an incensed and unbending king. If illegal imposts be resisted, it must be by a parliament which that king is determined either to coerce or dissolve. A parliament could refuse supplies ; but it could not, at least not yet, perpetuate itself; the king will therefore sweep it away. He will raise IMPEISONMENT. 273 funds by monoplies and other means, without consulting parliament at all. He will issue orders under the privy seal, requiring loans from private parties, taking care that the exaction shall fall most heavily on the friends of those who defended liberty against absolute prerogative. But if the king was oppressive, Hampden was stanch. In parliament after parliament it was resolved that supplies should not be granted unless abuses were corrected: but parliament after parliament was dissolved by the king, who wished to get the supplies and yet retain the abuses. Some of Hampden's friends were sent to the Tower ; outrage after outrage was perpetrated, and at length came Hampden's turn to suffer in person. The king required a general loan, but Hampden refused to contribute his share. As one of the richest commoners in England, he was willing to con- tribute to all the necessities of the state in legal ways; but he took his stand upon Magna Charta, and would neither compromise his own liberty, nor be a party to compromise that of others. For his refusal he was committed to close and rigorous imprisonment. When he was brought a second time before the Council he still declined to lend money to the king by force, and was again remanded to prison. But Charles employed other means for raising money, and it was in regard to one of these that he and Hampden came into still more violent collision. The sea-ports and mari- time towns had often been required to furnish ships duly manned and equipped, but the order was now extended to inland places, and all lands were assessed for that purpose. One of Hampden's estates was taxed to the amount of a guinea and a half, and another to the extent of twenty shil- lings. He resisted the trifling impost as arbitrary and unjust, and that with inflexible resolution because of the principle involved, and an eager contest began to be waged. On the one side the king and the upholders of prerogative, 274 THE KING TRIUMPHANT. on the other the Commons battling for freedom, were stand- ing face to face, and all the heroic firmness of Hampden was needed to carry him through the contest. But he per- sisted, unlike unawed by imprisonment and by royal threats. In regard to the privileges of parliament, to measures affect- ing religion, or to supplies of money, he has now taken his place among the foremost men of the kingdom, though the affectionate feelings of his heart suffered not a little amid the scenes through which he was passing. Some of his friends were dying in prison because they would not submit to the dictates of despotism; and when Hampden saw these things, without any apparent remedy for the time, he retired to his estate in Buckinghamshire, there to await better times, or rather the approach of a rupture between the king and the parliament, which could not be much longer avoided. In retirement his mind was braced for yet more stirring scenes than any through which he had passed. But for a time the king was triumphant. Personal liberty was extensively infringed. Many of the gentry were ordered home to their country seats, and forbidden to re- turn to the capital Large portions of their land were con- fiscated. Families were impoverished and ruined. The Puritans, who were now becoming powerful, were visited with heavy penalties, and the oppression which drives a wise man mad was wasting the best energies of the nation. Men like Hampden, calm yet resolute, determined yet wise, were needed much when cannibal cruelties were practised on some of the most devout men of the age. The father of Archbishop Leighton was sentenced to be publicly whipped, to have his ears cut off, his nostrils slit, his tongue bored, his cheeks burned, and afterwards to be banished. Prynne, a lawyer, suffered yet more harrowing atrocities. Once mutilated, he was not thereby deterred from publishing his convictions, and his original punishment was repeated. THE ARENA MADE READY. 275 The remaining stumps of his ears were dug out with a knife, his cheeks were branded with a red-hot iron, and he was sentenced to an imprisonment which was meant to be life- long. Amid such agonies, inflicted not in the cause of order but of despotism, the need of some strong arm and resolute will was becoming more and more apparent. The arena is in course of being cleared for a conflict, where blood will touch blood. The determination of Charles or his advisers is to have a government without a parliament, or by the sword, if that be needful, to maintain the prerogatives of royalty ; and the question now to be practically settled is, will the people of England consent? A terrible tyranny is in course of preparation for them. Taxes imposed by the king, and collected by the military, were by no means dubious events, they had begun will they be perpetuated ? The affair of the ship-money, already referred to, became the cause or the occasion of augmented violence ; it led to the misery of eleven years of almost uninterrupted civil war. The dispute at first gathered its main force around Hampden, whom Lord Nugent calls " the most able, and resolute, and popular person in the country." A nature already inflamed and distempered by oppression, gradually became fiercer stilL In the course of the first year of the impost ^200,000 and more found their way into the royal treasury, all levied without the sanction of law or of parliament. But against this violation John Hampden resolved to make a vigorous stand, and he did it in the spring of 1636. Those who refused to pay the impost were numerous; some of them acted boldly and openly in declining to contribute, but the eyes of the court and of the people were alike fixed on the recusant Hampden. He was to the one a victim, on whom they gladly seized, to the other a champion, in whom they learned to glory, and he did not decline the struggle. Though aware of the issues that hung upon the measure, he resolutely 3J76 ANOTHER HERO. proceeded to oppose for himself, for his country and pos- terity, the arbitrary taxation of Charles I. Shall the word of a single man give law to Britain, or can it be made mani- fest that the majesty of law is yet more august than that of any single mortal 1 The judges have decided against Hamp- den; but are they venal, or have they rightly interpreted the law ? Tyranny might exult as if its victory were secure, but has it learned to count what that victory will cost ? These were some of the questions raised when John Hampden threw himself on the Constitution of England as his rock, resolved to do battle with royalty rather than let liberty be trampled in the dust. He boldly demurred to the whole charge of ship-money, as well as other imposts, as unjust and grievous ; and now Charles I. and John Hamp- den are in the arena: what will the end be 1 We can scarcely doubt, when we hear even the royalist Clarendon confess that Hampden now " grew the argument of all tongues, every man inquiring who and what he was that durst, at his own charge, support the liberty and prosperity of the kingdom." Meanwhile men grew more earnest in this matter, micro- scopic in its commencement, to become vast in its results. It was believed by many that the dearest rights of all were placed in jeopardy. Hampden daily rose in public admira- tion and honour. The eyes of all were turned on him as the champion in the crisis, the pilot in the storm. The firmness of his purpose had been tested. Every induce- ment that could operate on a mind less resolute operated upon him. But the calm courage which he displayed, and the firmness without violence which he maintained, marked him out as the man for the emergency which had arisen. Even his enemies confessed that he acted with a temper and a modesty which won the hearts of men. Lord Went- worth, himself a renegade, might write, indeed, to Arch- bishop Laud, and express the desire that Hampden and SELF-RUIN. 277 others were " whipt into their right senses ;" but with the ex- ception of such eager partisans, the man who declined to pay an unjust impost had become the idol of thousands. Even the men who were retained to prosecute him could not but admire his unflinching resolution his determination at all hazards to stand by what is now confessed to have been the constitution and the law of England. The atrocities which abounded at this period, under the dark reign of Laud as primate, suggested to many the thought of emigration, and Hampden and his cousin Oliver Cromwell were among the number who prepared to seek freedom in New England. But the king would regulate even such movements; and by an order in Council, dated April 6, 1638, he prohibited shipmasters from conveying passengers to America " without special license." Eight emigrant vessels lay at that time in the Thames. On board of one of these were Hampden and Cromwell. They disembarked, however, and never perhaps did any of the sons of men unconsciously plan their own ruin so surely as did Charles I. at the period now referred to. But another parliament was at length summoned. Men would not be longer trifled with. Ten thousand Hampdens were beginning to lift up their heads, and something must be done. There had been no parliament for nearly twelve years; and as soon as the members had assembled, some troublesome inquiries began to be made, though, as a whole, that parliament was dutifully submissive. But Hampden's case was taken up. Past proceedings were scrutinized. The fair speeches of the king could deceive no longer; and a request was made by the House of Commons for information to enable them to proceed against those who had pushed the prosecution against Hampden. He had now withdrawn from his much-loved private pursuits, and devoted all his energies to the Commonwealth; and though, like other bene- (20) 18 278 THE GLORY OP OUR LAND. factors of mankind, he must suffer if he would do good, ho is prepared. He will suffer. Yet once more the king dissolved the parliament. It was bent on the redress of grievances. He wished nothing but sup- plies, and again there was collision. And not merely did he dissolve the parliament, he imprisoned some of the mem- bers, and determined to govern without a parliament, or even in spite of it. Soon, however, did it become apparent that the struggle was hopeless, and another parliament must be convened. It was the Long Parliament, and some of its earliest measures were to make compensation for past atrocities, in as far as that was possible. Leighton, Prynne, and others, were freed from their dungeons, though their mutilated members could not be replaced. Pressed by want, the king was obliged to make some concessions ; but pro- posals were now made by the court to impeach Hampden and others of high treason, while the accused in their turn as boldly and at once arraigned Lord Wentworth by a sud- den resolution of the House of Commons. That bold and able man attempted to frown down the charges, and scare those who accused him. But John Hampden had confronted royalty when it was pursuing unlawful ends, and did not blanch before the scowl of Wentworth. He knew the inherent weakness of all that is false, the strength of all that is true ; and, buoyed up by deep convictions, Hampden and his friends addressed themselves to what they reckoned a great retribution with a manliness equal to the occasion. His industry could not be wearied ; his vigilance could not be surprised ; his penetration could not be eluded by the most subtle. These and all his gifts he laid with devoted ardour on the altar of his country; and thus did he strive, with a noble decision, to establish in England the security of person and of property, that freedom, in short, which, next to the truth of God, is the glory of our land. VIOLENT MEASURES. 279 Amid all these things, the struggles between the king and the representatives of the people were waxing more and more eager. In the month of December, 1641, a grand Remon- strance was presented to the king, embodying all the grie- vances under which the parliament and people had suffered during the reign of Charles. That document was adopted amid an indescribable scene in the House of Commons, and only the calm firmness of Hampden prevented violence, perhaps bloodshed. Measures were speedily adopted by the Court against some of the Commons. The lodgings and repositories of Hampden and four others were sealed up by the king's command. The House resolved that their ser- jeant-at-arms should break the seal Then a messenger came requesting the persons of five of the members, Hamp- den being one of them. They were accused of treason in short, the coming collision, to end in ruin, is hastening on ; and while Hampden declared his readiness to yield a duti- ful obedience to a lawful sovereign and his privy council, it is manifest that a violent disruption is at hand. Charles now went in person to the House of Commons, accompanied by a band of armed men, with the design of seizing the offensive members. Being forewarned, however, they escaped ; and from that hour we may date the com- mencement of a civil war. Hampden and his four friends lurked in the city of London, where they were sheltered and kept in safety. He continued to influence from his hiding- place the counsels of the Commons. The quarrel between Charles and Hampden now appears to have assumed not a little of the keenness of personal hostility. At all events, it was Hampden that now urged the adoption of the most decided measures. He argued that the time for compromise was past. Lord Nugent says " Henceforward we shall al- ways find him foremost to urge the strongest and most decisive measures." "In the Council of War and 280 DEATH. Committee of Public Safety" " he was the most in favour of bold and rapid enterprises ; " so that, for a time, the destiny of a royal house seemed dependent on the move- ments of this strong-willed man. He was prompt, resolute, and unwearied in all that his hands found to do. He rose with the occasion ; and even amid the amenities of a tender nature, he was iron-willed and indomitable. As a result, brother now rushed against brother, and citizen against citizen, in the favoured kingdom of England. Where the flowing tide meets a full river rushing seaward, the surge occasioned by the collision is often dangerous. Shipwrecks have happened amid such scenes, and that found a parallel in the case before us. Royal prerogative pushed to excess, chafed, and, as many believed, pillaged and op- pressed the people of England. The spirit of freedom re- sented the aggression, and a monarch lost his life and his crown ere the struggle was ended. In entering on that struggle, Hampden characteristically counselled his asso- ciates to terminate it by a few bold and decided actions. For his own part, it was with prodigious activity that he discharged what he deemed a solemn duty. But he fell in discharging it. In an attack which he hastily made with a small detachment against a body of Prince Rupert's troops, Hampden was mortally wounded. His head drooping, and his hands resting on his horse's mane, he was seen slowly withdrawing from the fight, and reached the village of Thame, where he had been educated. His wounds were dressed ; but, after about six days of agony, he died, praying for his king, and exclaiming, " Lord Jesu, receive my soul. Lord, save my country. Lord, be merciful to" ; but the sentence never was completed. John Hampden fell back in his bed and expired Such were some of the efforts of one of the most con- HAMPDEN'S CHARACTER. 281 epicuous men of all this nation's past. Calm, self-contained, and resolute, rapid and determined when quick decision was needed, and not to be daunted by danger, any more than he could be bribed by interest, he became the foremost man of his party, at a time when great minds were developed by a great occasion. The British constitution was then receiv- ing some of its finishing touches. Many excrescences re- quired to be cleared away, and much that hindered its growth had to be removed. The sagacity and the energy of Hainpden were well fitted to promote these results, and even Hume, with all his favour for the Stuarts, was compelled to con- fess, that in profound capacity, undaunted courage, and great enterprises, Hampden and his associates were not much inferior to Cato, to Brutus, or to Cassius. But with- out attempting any decision in such a case, it is enough to say, that by firm purpose and unflinching zeal, this man wrought out an amount of good for this island for which the latest ages may hold his memory sacred. True, he secured that good at an appalling cost. To be compelled to withstand that king for whom he prayed in the very act of dying, to be obliged to urge measures so far that civil war became inevitable or, more precisely, to take his stand for a great principle in an affair which cost him only twenty shillings implied a trial, or a strain, which few would have had nerve to face. But Hampden had nerve : he faced the whole ; and, as a result, we can now rejoice in blessings which, but for that indomitable man, might have been swept utterly away. It is known that Richard Baxter placed Hampden far up among the excellent of the earth. The author of the " Saints' Rest" actually declared that one of the pleasures which he hoped to enjoy in heaven was the society of Hampden ; and an eulogy so peculiar requires to be well supported but it is BO. In regard to secular things, the great Puritan managed 282 BEACON LIGHTS. the House of Commons by his easy courtesy, by his calm sagacity, and his unflinching firmness. He could direct a campaign, or rule a family. He could confront royalty in its error, and yet devoutly pray that that royalty might be put right. In a word, Hampden was one of the men whom partizans may attempt to entomb in obloquy but that resurrection of character which may take place long anterior to that of the body, has placed him far up among the beacon lights which guide men in the path which all the worthies trod : the path of suffering and sorrow of struggle and tears, to glory, honour, and immortality. Like the Hebrew heroes at the border of the Holy Land, John Hampden dared to follow wherever Truth and its Author led, and his name has been for six generations and more a synonyme for freedom. IV. ALGERNON SYDNEY. A.D. 1622-1683. " Mortals that would follow me, Love Virtue : She alone is free. She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery clime ; Or if Virtue feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her." Count Flis birth And early training His first appointments Principles adopted- Wounded at Marston Moor The king's trial Sydney's part in that transac- tionHis public life Expelled from parliament by Cromwell The Restora- tionSydney an exile Germany Italy A plot to assassinate him Returns to England Is sent to parliament His principles The Rye-house plot- Sydney seized Sent to the Tower Tried Condemned Executed. ]N the Arts, proficiency is attained by the study of exquisite models. The galleries of Venice are crowded with students of Titian and Canova. Florence is preferred by those who would study Raphael for painting, and Michael Angelo for sculpture ; while Rome concentrates many of the works of all the masters, at whose feet thousands sit to appreciate high beauty, and to learn to imitate its charms. It is well to have similar models in the domain of morals, and, in some respects, ALGERNON SYD- NEY was one. He is often spoken of as an example of pure and disinterested patriotism, and has been called the cham- pion and the martyr of freedom. Milton has praised him ; all except the friends of despotism have heaped high enco- miums on his name. The love of liberty and his country was literally a passion in his souL The cause for which " Sydney bled upon the scaffold" has been cherished by ten 284 EARLY TRAINING. thousand times ten thousand ; and lessons of wisdom may surely be learned from the life of such a man. ALGERNON SYDNEY was born in the year 1622. He was the second son of the second Earl of Leicester, and his mother was a Percy of the house of Northumberland. At an early age he indicated extraordinary talents ; and his father, who was British ambassador at various Courts, carried Algernon with him, that his education might be conducted under his parent's eye. The progress of the youth was such as to repay the care which was bestowed upon him. Denmark, France, and Italy thus became, in succession, the countries where the future martyr to freedom was trained ; and though he was destined for the army, his education was so comprehensive that affairs of state were familiar to him from his youth. He early became the favourite of some high dignifaries who bestowed their favour upon few. Charles I. was then precipitating his kingdom into trouble by his arbitrary measures, and, at the same time, uncon- sciously rearing his own scaffold, with a dogged infatuation of which there are few examples upon record. Amid these scenes, young Sydney grew familiar with the measures which were employed by those who tried to guard the liberties of their country from extinction ; and his aversion to tyranny, and his love of freedom, were fostered by what he saw and heard. In his nineteenth year he was appointed to the command of a troop of horse, and displayed on all occasions an extraordinary spirit and resolution ; even thus early, he appears as one of the most intrepid of men in following the path which he deemed the right one. When Charles, urged onwards to ruin by his own dark spirit, seized on five members of the House of Commons because they dared to oppose his arbitrary measures, matters hastened to a crisis, and Sydney was early among those who were compelled to THE DEFENCE OF FKEEDOM. 285 provide for the defence of freedom. He and his brother were at one time taken into custody in the interest of the king ; and their affections, hitherto loyal, now became estranged from one who wielded power chiefly to abuse it, or tried to aggrandize himself by the ruin of others. Sydney's promotion was now rapid, and the parliament passed vote after vote to aid him in various enterprises on his country's behalf. He was severely wounded at the battle of Marston Moor, and in danger of falling into the hands of the Royalists ; but, after his recovery, he was at- tached to that division of the army which Cromwell com- manded, and bore upon his banner the motto which guided him through life "The sacred love of country makes a hero." Disaster after disaster pursued the royal cause. Charles was soon the prisoner of his own injured subjects ; and no prophet's eye was needed to foresee that calamities of no common kind were coming. Sydney was no'w a lieu- tenant-general of horse, and zealously employed in the cause he had espoused ; but as he was deprived of his position as Governor of Dublin, by some who secretly favoured the king, that and similar things just helped to render him more resolute in preventing the ascendency of what would have crushed the people of these islands as if they had existed only for the sake of one despotic man. He was, in truth, inseparably united now with men who felt that the defence of freedom was a duty which they owed at once to their country and their God. Algernon Sydney, then, has resolutely chosen his part in the eventful times in which he lived ; and without following him through all the stages of his career, it must be enough to fix attention upon those great leading events which helped to make him what he was, and hand down his name to all time as one of the most unflinching frienda of freedom in his own or any age. The king's duplicity had 286 THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. now wrought its natural effects few could trust his word ; and his trial was not distant. Sydney was appointed one of the commissioners to sit on that memorable trial ; and during some of the preliminary steps, he occasionally at- tended the court. He withdrew, however, from the solemn scenes in their more advanced stages, though he was one of those who reckoned a king morally responsible for his guilty actions, just like other men. According to the British Constitution, as it is now ad- justed, the monarch cannot be tried : the ministers are responsible for crimes committed against the nation, and can be impeached for their offences. But Charles had tried to rule as if he had a divine right for despotism ; and hence the troubles and the sorrows of his life hence his trial, his condemnation, and his death. Sydney was at Pens- hurst, the family residence, from the 22d of January till the 29th of that month ; and during that period the sen- tence was pronounced, and the warrant for the execution signed. It is alleged that he disliked Cromwell's growing influence ; that he foresaw the purpose of that bold man to become king himself, and that that discovery was one cause of Sydney's absence from public life at this critical juncture. He thought, however, that the terrible example of the monarch's death would be a lesson to all future tyrants. Hating oppression as Sydney did, and believing that Charles was incurable in his obstinacy, or his deter- mination to rule unchallenged, as he was unquestionably criminal against his kingdom, our patriot acquiesced in the sentence against the king as deserved deserved, because he had usurped a power above all law, had acted as if the millions of his subjects lived for him alone, and had added treachery to all his other crimes. They are blessed who are freed from the dire necessity of ever repeating such an act ; but those who adopt the maxim that the king is raised up SYDNEY AND CROMWELL. 287 for the people, as Sydney did, and not the people for the king, approved of that deed all solemn and startling as it was. Sydney henceforth continued to take an active interest in all the proceedings of his times. In 1651, he became assiduous in attending to his duty in parliament ; and when Cromwell dismissed that body in 1653, because he reckoned it incompetent, Sydney, who sat at the right hand of the Speaker, refused to obey the Protector's command. Not till hands were laid on him to force him from his place, did he consent to withdraw ; and Cromwell had to issue repeated orders ere that was effected, for Sydney then as ever was steadfast and unmoveable in what he deemed the path of duty ; he did not fear the face of man, whether it was that of a king or a protector. He again retired, however, to Penshurst, the residence of his father, and sought to console himself amid rural beauties for political discomfiture. But his steadfast adherence to the cause of liberty was not to be shaken by any deed of man. During his retirement, he stored his mind with knowledge for future use ; he studied the history at once of free and of despotic states, and thus deepened the foundations on which he was afterwards to build. Keeping always aloof from Cromwell, he was deter- mined to own no authority but that which was deemed constitutional, that is, authority originating in the choice of the ruled, and employed for their highest good. It was in the year 1659 that he returned to public duty, and soon thereafter he was sent as a commissioner to mediate between Denmark and Sweden, where his large views and his firm conduct successfully promoted the object of his mission. But when Charles II. was restored to his father's throne, Sydney felt that his occupation for the time was gone. Powerful inducements were held out to him to enter the service of royalty ; but he could not belie his con- 288 AN ARCH-MARTYR. victions, or imitate those who had meanly trampled on their former principles: the reward of iniquity he would not touch, and he therefore remained abroad, a wanderer for many years, all but disowned by his father, and often in pecuniary straits. But at this point it may be well to glance at some of this man's peculiar opinions. He was hereafter to prove his steadfastness by dying rather than surrender his convictions. What, then, were the tenets of Sydney at the period now referred to ? What were the opinions which he afterwards wrought out into a system, and which he held till they brought him to the scaffold as an arch-martyr for liberty ? He had given some evidence of the love which he bore to his native land ; but even that love was not so strong as his love of freedom and of truth. He would willingly have redeemed himself from exile, (he writes) " with the loss of a great deal of his blood;" but when he saw that country which he once esteemed a paradise, steeped and soaked in debasing crimes, it was no place for him. Luxury and vice, he continues, had taken the place -of piety and virtue ; the best of the nation were made a prey to the worst ; the people were enslaved ; none but the mean were safe ; none but the panderer to iniquity honoured ; and he boldly asks, " Is it a pleasure to see all that I love sold and destroyed?" He deemed life among strangers preferable to the ignominy which reigned at home ; and determined that while he lived he would endeavour to preserve his liberty, or, at least, not consent to its destruction. With noble firmness this exile half prophetically proclaimed, " I hope I will die in the same principles in which I have lived, and will live no longer than they can preserve me I have ever had in my mind that when God should cast me into such a condition as that I cannot save my life but by doing a dishonourable thing, he shows me that the time is come wherein I should resign THE POLE-STAR. 289 it." And this man, at once undaunted and unbribed, was taken at his word : he had at last to resign his life, because he would not succumb to oppression, or smile upon royal crime. Sydney felt that the glory of the king was the shame of the people. He declared that the guilt of the land was akin to that of Judas, and that where the friends of freedom could not live in safety, he would not live at all. Where the souls of millions were bowed down and enslaved to gratify the passions of one bad man, Sydney would not willingly dwell: and though he felt, and said he was assured that God would avenge the blood of those who perished, our patriot could find an asylum only in the thought, that if he lived to see the day when right should reign once more, he would be ready at the sight to say, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace." Amid all this, Sydney always declared from his place of exile, that if Charles did what was right, no man should be a more faithful servant than he; and his constancy in upholding these determinations makes him a model of intrepidity indeed. His maxim ever was, "Not millions for one man, but one man for millions ;" and steadily and boldly did he move through life guided by that maxim the pole-star of his voyage ashamed of nothing but meanness and crime. Acting with strict honour and stem consistency, he rose superior to the ills which now entered into his lot. All, indeed, may not subscribe to his imperious words, when he said that the execution of Charles I. " was the justest and bravest action ever done in England or anywhere else ;" but if the sentiment was extreme, he suffered for his bold- ness. He durst not visit his native land even to adjust his private affairs, and was rather like a pelican in the wilder- ness than one of the noblest sons of England. It was the saying of Burke that Charles II. was a man without any sense of duty as a prince ; without any regard 290 ABOUNDING PROFLIGACY. to the dignity of the crown ; without any love to his people ; dissolute, false, venal ... ;" and the effects of his example were soon apparent in the land which he misruled. Profli- gacy came in like a flood ; corruption ate into the heart of England, and while Sydney's sad forebodings were thus realized to the full, he was wandering over Germany an exile for his love to his down-trodden country. His father had all but cast him off. The wanderer was sometimes without the means of immediate support; but after long troubles he reached Home by way of Venice, and for a time found rest in that capital. Some of his friends who had returned to England, safe, as they thought, under a deed of amnesty, were taken, tried, condemned for treason, and put to death with all the barbarity attendant upon punishment for that crime. With intrepidity, indeed, some of them suffered in that cause for which they had hazarded all ; but Sydney was made still more wretched by their deaths. His mind, however, was still unshaken, and the love of freedom which he cherished buoyed him up amid all his trials, at the instigation of the king of whom it has been said, " I doubt whether a single instance can be produced of his having spared the life of any one whom motives either of policy or revenge prompted him to destroy." " If we can honestly put him out of the way," was, as we shall immediately see, the avowed maxim of Charles regarding those whom he feared or disliked; and such a maxim gives too much ap- pearance of truth to the saying of a statesman of our day, that "no murder which history has recorded of Caesar Borgia exceeds in violence or in fraud that by which Charles took away the life of the gallant and patriotic Sydney." In the year 1660, while settled in Rome, our exile studied with great care the conduct of the pope, the cardinals, and the priesthood. His verdict upon some of the most noted Romans was that "pride, laziness, and sensuality" had SYDNEY'S SUFFERINGS. 291 eaten away the former spirit of Italy. Though never a bigot where there was common ground to stand upon, Sydney recoiled from the selfish policy of a See called holy, and from the absurdities of a creed even then in its dotage. It was at Rome, too, that his mental anguish became the deepest, both on account of his country and his own position. De- frauded, disowned, and deserted, the keen sensibilities of Sydney's nature were deeply wounded. It seemed as if his friends deemed it enough if he had only bread to eat, and left him long without suitable resources. To speak the truth, he refers to himself as having nothing to subsist on in a place far from home, where his rank, as well as his principles, made shameful compliances detestable. All this because his steadfast soul could not be driven from its stead- fastness; because he was too earnest, or too much of a true man to veer and change as if principle were a shifting sand- bank, not a solid rock. Shut out as he thus was from the world, he had nothing to solace him but a pure conscience, and that form of truth which he loved. But he continued his studies, and though he had to say, " I wander as a vaga- bond through the world," that neither shook his confidence, nor unmanned his soiil, nor modified the principles for which he had imperiled life itself. His " half burial," he said, was " a preparative to an entire one," and he bore up under the consciousness that there would come a rest for the weary, and a triumph for the truth. While Sydney's friends were slaughtered in England under various pretences, and while the king, in a letter which is still extant, was writing to a judge concerning one whom he disliked, that " certaynly he is too dangerous a man to lett live, if we can honestly put him out of the way," our patriot was forming a plan for raising a corps from among his former associates to be employed in the service of a foreign prince. He hoped by these means to provide 292 INVASION MEDITATED. an escape. That plan, however, was never carried into effect ; and Sydney was now obliged to move from place to place to avoid the plots and persecutions of his enemies. He narrowly escaped assassination at Augsburg; and all this, be it remembered, because he refused to become the partizan of a king who flooded our island with grossest crimes; who trampled on all the rights which he durst assail, and who is now undisguisedly known, as Sydney knew him, to be one of the most unprincipled men that ever caused a kingdom to groan. Driven to desperation, there can be little doubt that the exile meditated an invasion of England, for the same purpose as that which was happily effected few years thereafter by William of Orange, to free our fore- fathers from the grinding bondage of the Stuarts. Indeed, in several respects Algernon Sydney antedated the Revolu- tion in England. He asserted principles which were only then embodied in practice ; but he did it before the time, and, amid the sufferings and the hardships of an exile, had to pay the penalty of his boldness. He made the selfish tyrant who reigned in England uneasy by coming so near to London, even as Paris, where Sydney sojourned for a time ; and it has been truly said that few things can show more clearly the ascendency of the good, the meanness of the vile, than to know that a king of England trembled at the name of an exile who was in solitude and in want. His lofty tone of independence made him the terror of the voluptuous despot. At length, however, the Earl of Leicester, Sydney's father, when far advanced in years, wished to see his son before he died; and at the interest of the court of France, an assur- ance of safety was conceded to Sydney. With the king's passport in his ppssession he returned to England in the autumn of 1677. He designed to remain only for a short period ; but a suit in chancery, arising out of his father's SYDNEY'S PRINCIPLES. 293 aftairs, detained him for years in the island. He soon began to take a part in public matters, and was, after some time, returned as a member to parliament. But the Court still watched him with an evil eye ; and to verify the truth that " uneasy lies the head that wears a crown," the nearness of Sydney made Charles restless indeed. He was accused to the king of being engaged in a plot against him, but ob- tained an audience to disabuse the royal mind. That, how- ever, and similar incidents showed him that he was not safe in his native land, and he resolved to retire to France, by whose ambassador his enemies allege that he was bribed. This persecuted man was now occupied in maturing his great work on Government, announcing the principles which should guide both the ruler and the ruled. His funda- mental maxim was that the consent of the governed was an essential part of all rule over men; not brute force, nor proud and egotistic despotism, but a rule founded on the common will, and guided by the grand maxim, the highest good of all. That was a compend of Sydney's politics, and because he held such opinions, he was hunted as an outlaw ; he was proscribed by despotism because he was the friend of man. But a few of his principles, as they became more mature, may indicate how he thought, and how he was likely to act : "Man," he contends, " is naturally free and cannot justly be deprived of his liberty without a cause. . . . This liberty, however, is not licentiousness of conduct, but an exemption from all to which he has not given his assent." " Magistrates are distinguished from other men by the power with which the law invests them for the public good, and the people may proportion, regulate, and terminate that power as seems most convenient to themselves." "As to popular government, in the strictest sense, that is pure democracy, where the people perform all that (M) 19 294 ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. belongs to government, I know of no such thing, and if it be in the world, have nothing to say to it." " There is no mortal creature that deserves so well from mankind as a wise, valiant, diligent, and just king, who, as a father, cherishes his people ; as a shepherd, feeds, defends, and is ready to lay down his life for his flock who is a terror to evil-doers, and a praise to those that do well." " He who is set up for the public good, can have no con- test with the whole people whose good he is to procure, unless he deflect from the end of his institution, and set up an interest of his own in opposition to it." Nor were such opinions the result merely of an iron or an obstinate will. They were held by men of his times whose love of truth has made them models. An archbishop, whose praise for gentleness is in all the Churches, has said, " Kings and rulers too often consider not for what they are exalted ; they think it is for themselves, to honour and please themselves, and not to honour God and benefit their people to encourage and reward the good, and to punish the wicked. They are set on high for the good of those that are below them, that they may be refreshed with their light and influence, as the lights of heaven are set there, in the highest parts of the world, for the use and benefit of the very lowest And the mountains are raised above the rest of the earth, not to be places of prey and robbery, as sometimes they are turned to be, but to send forth streams into the valleys, and make them fertile." * By these and similar maxims, then, Sydney unfolded a system of government wise in itself, and sure to be beneficial in its results, if not thwarted by the selfishness and corrup- tion so ascendant in all men so rampant, too often, where power is possessed. But whether wise or not, the author of this system was soon to be crushed by the arm of power. * "Leighton on 1 Peter il 13, 14. ' THE RYE-HOUSE PLOT. 295 He was now much mixed up with public affairs, and sus- pected in them all. A plot was alleged to have been formed to assassinate the king and his brother, called the Eye-house Plot. Sydney was artfully implicated in that transaction ; and it became the occasion of his death. He was siezed by an order from the Privy Council His papers were sealed up. He was examined by the Council, and committed a close prisoner to the Tower of London, on a charge of high treason. Conscious of his innocence, he sought to possess his soul in patience. Conscious of his innocence. There can be no doubt that the corruptions of those times prompted many hard speeches against the arch-corrupter, the. monarch, and his minions. Much was done, and still more was said, which no other ruler would ever have provoked. But no evidence has ever been produced to show that Sydney was a party to any plot such as that of the Rye-house was said to be. His durance in the Tower, however, was as strait as if he had been a convicted criminal. His money and his property were seized. His friends were denied access to him ; his servants were even prevented from conveying to him a change of linen. " For conspiring and compassing the death of the king," was the crime laid to his charge ; and attempts to draw evidence against him from his own mouth, were made at an examination to which he was subjected in the Tower. But he nobly baffled those who were compassing his life, and kept them at bay with a skill, a tact, a power, and a calm self-possession, which form a presumptive proof of his innocence. But that he should die was a foregone conclusion. Jeffries was one of his judges and that was enough. Sydney was denied a copy of his indictment, yet had to plead his own cause. Indecent haste at one time, and vexatious delays at another, wore out the man. Law and common 296 SYDNEY CONDEMNED TO DIE. decency were outraged upon the trial. He took advantage of every point where he could make a stand, but was driven from position to position by men determined that he should perish. The violence both of the bench and the bar, was directed against him ; and a mind less heroic than his might have succumbed under the tyranny with which he was hunted to death. The prisoner's innocence was mani- fest to all but the creatures of the king. With an effrontery never surpassed, the Lord Chief-Justice left the court, and went to the jury while they were consulting, instructing them as to the verdict which was expected from them. Is it wonderful that, with a packed jury, and with a venal judge, Sydney was condemned to die ? He was, of course, found guilty, and no subsequent appeal could save him. The Duke of York interfered to make death more certain ; and Jeffries, in his own furious way, declared that either Sydney or he must die. When receiving sentence, he was assailed and browbeat by one of the judges, who appeared to be drunk ; and when the martyr to freedom could not gain a hearing amid this perversion of justice, he only exclaimed, "I must appeal to God and the world ; I am not heard." Sentence of death was pronounced, and Sydney, with unaltered mien, exclaimed, " Then, God, God, I beseech thee to sanctify these sufferings, and impute not my blood to the country, nor to the city through which I am to be drawn " He felt that he was persecuted for righteous- ness' sake, and yet maintained his calmness amid what might have goaded him to madness. He once held out his hand to his judge, and said, " My lord, feel my pulse, and pee if I am disordered. I bless God, I never was in better temper than now." While the inhuman Jeffries acted the chief part in these outrages, it is said that the king rewarded him with the present of a costly ring. As truth and decency had been so outraged at his trial, A HERO AND A MARTYR. 297 Sydney drew up a narrative and an appeal to posterity ; and in concluding it he said, with the calm sublimity of a martyr, " I know that my Eedeemer lives ; and as he hath, in a great measure, upheld me in the day of my calamity, hope that he will still hold me by his Spirit in this last moment ; and, giving me grace to glorify him in my death, receive me into the glory prepared for those that fear him, when my body shall be dissolved." He had expressed to some minis- ters of religion his deep contrition for his sins, and prepared to die like a believer indeed. When he saw his death- warrant he expressed no concern, but rather astonished those around him by his calm demeanour. One of the sheriffs even wept before him, when the dying man reproved that official for the part which he had taken in procuring the condemnation of the innocent. But the world, he said, was now nothing to him. He had long been familiar with death, and was ready to die not in the spirit of bravado, but calmly, hopefully, like a hero and a martyr. On the 7th of December 1683, five years before the Revolution was to enshrine Sydney's deepest convictions in a great national act and constitution, he was led to the place of execution on Towerhill ; for the king, in consideration of his victim's noble descent, had remitted those parts of the sentence which doomed the patriot to be murdered and mangled at Tyburn. He ascended the scaffold with a firm step, and submitted without delay or formality to the execu- tioner, to whom he gave three guineas ; but as that function- ary deemed the sum too little, the dying man ordered him to receive a guinea or two more. He then kneeled down, and after a brief silence, having calmly unrobed, he placed his head upon the block. The executioner, for some reason, asked Sydney if he would rise again, and his reply was, " Not till the general resurrection strike on." One blow severed the head from the body. 298 THE REVOLUTION. But though Sydney was thus judicially murdered, his maxims lived, and sank deep into the minds of thoughtful men who would not barter freedom and be slaves. The oppression and the corruptions of those in power drove all independent minds back upon the principles which he had so firmly maintained, and ratified at last in his blood. His name was soon enrolled among his country's martyrs, and became to thousands the very watchword or synonyme of freedom. Then the Revolution came. Sydney's attainder was reversed, and all records of the proceedings were ordered to be torn from the public registers. All was done, in short, that could efiace the recollection of a deed so unprincipled ; but the memory of it had sunk deep into many hearts, and the man who took his life in his hand to resist the encroach- ments of arbitrary power, is still embalmed in many a memory as one of the firmest friends of freedom, of England, and of man. We are far from defending every action of his life. There are moral charges against him which, if they be proved, are to be unequivocally condemned. But it cannot be questioned that the great aim of his life was to restore his native land to freedom, when honour and virtue were banished from the palace and the throne. He did not entirely succeed nay, he fell like a warrior in the breach but the foundations of our liberty were cemented by his blood. One of the legal lights of the past has said, " There was some little colour of law in Lord Russell's trial, but Algernon Sydney was absolutely murdered ;" and that fact, of course, made his death a power. He lived in an age when truth passed for treason, but he dared to speak it, though in speaking it he died ; and which now is the most honoured Charles the tyrant, Jeffries the butcher, or Sydney the murdered? Here, then, is another example of the pains and throes which are needed ere any great truth can be born into our THE POWER OF CONVICTION. 299 world. But here also is a glimpse of one who could endure these throes even unto death, that truth might be born. Undaunted by the hatred of a king, and not quailing even before Jeffries and his coadjutors, Sydney stood by the con- victions which he had espoused, though a grave, which was meant to be one of ignominy, was his reward. Firm con- viction taught him to take his stand. Firm conviction enabled him to maintain his position ; and that country is guarded by something better than a wall of fire which has men of his maxims and his intrepidity to uphold its cause. It is not needful, we repeat, to defend every deed of his life. Enough to know that his aims for his country were not less lofty than they were good and true ; and merely to sympa- thize with aspirations such as his is itself a kind of nobility. It was a fable that the waters of Castalia made him who drank of them a poet ; it is a truth that he who catches the spirit of Sydney is a patriot. V. LORD WILLIAM RUSSELL. A.D. 16391683. ". . . . A crown. Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns- Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights. To him who wears the regal diadem, When on his shoulders each man's burden lies ; For therein stands the office of a king, His honour, virtue, merit, and chief praise, That for the public all this weight he bears. Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king." Paradise Regained. Contrasts in history Russell's birth and education Travels Hetnrns to Britain Enters parliament The corruption of the times Charles IL The Duke of York Russell at variance with the royal policy His first speech- Plots of Romanists Counteraction Russell proposes a bold measure to par- liamentAttacks Popery afresh Meal-tub plot Rye-house plot Russell seized Sent to the Tower Tried Condemned to die as a traitor Endea- vours made to obtain a pardon They fail His demeanour in the Tower His religious views Last interview with Lady Russell His demeanour on the scaffold His dying testimony His attainder reversed Conclusion. ]H"RRE are many beacons shining in history to warn us as to whom we praise. There are few men or few kings whose character is more distinctly settled now than that of James I. He is rarely spoken of without some measure of ridicule, or even of deeper feelings those of resentment and contempt. Yet an archbishop whom he had raised to dignity, thus spoke of that king as being " zealous as a David ; learned and wise, the Solomon ot our age ; religious as Josias ; careful of spreading Christ's fai^h as Constantine the Great ; just as Moses ; undefiled in all his ways as a Jehoshaphat and Hezekiah ; full of clemency as another Theodosius." That was the man who could ROMANISTS. 301 rarely speak without uttering impiety, and who scarcely ever was trusted without betraying the trust, when it suited his own sinister ends. But other men there are whose characters rise from gene- ration to generation, till at last they are embalmed among the objects of a nation's reverence the founders of their liberty, the defenders of their rights, the authors of blessings manifold. LORD WILLIAM RUSSELL, the third son of the fifth Earl of Bedford, belonged to this latter class. He was born on the 23d of September 1639, and received his education at Cambridge. He subsequently visited the continent of Europe, and sojourned some time at Augsburg. During his journeys, he appears to have paid much attention to the Romish ceremonies, and wrote to one of his friends in Eng- land that Romanists seemed to him to " take more paines in going to hell than a good Christian doth in going to heaven." In giving attention to such things, he was trea- suring up knowledge or receiving impressions which swayed him all through life with the power of master motives. In the winter of 1658 young Russell was at Paris, and in the following year returned to England. Previous to this date he had been visited by a severe illness, which appears to have been the means of rousing him to some serious thought ; and he tells us that his prayers were that God would give him not health alone, but grace to employ it in his service; yet there is reason to fear that these im- pressions were only like the morning cloud. At a subse- quent period, the dissolute court of Charles II. for some time caught Russell in its meshes, or swept him along in its vortex ; but he escaped, and became, as we shall see, in many respects a model for sobriety of judgment, and unflinching adherence to truth. He most probably owed that change to his wife. Upon the Restoration of Charles II., Lord William 302 THE DUKE OF YORK. Russell was chosen member of parliament for Tavistock, and subsequently represented the county of Bedford in four successive parliaments; but for more than twelve years he was a " silent member," and might have continued to be the same through life, had not the stirring events of his day dragged or driven him into publicity. A mind like his could not remain in obscurity when great deeds were to be done. When Russell entered upon that career in which he never more found rest till he mounted the scaffold, Great Britain was reduced to the lowest condition, both morally and politically. One of the most unprincipled monarchs that ever occupied a throne then ruled or misruled these lands. Maxims the most flagitious, and conduct the most abandoned at once in king, courtiers, and subjects, made that period one of deepest national disgrace. To enable him to become a despot and reign without a parliament, Charles had formed a secret alliance with the king of France. He had adopted the religion of Rome yet disguised it, like an unprincipled hypocrite, even while subscribing a treaty with the French king, of which the following is a part : " The king of Great Britain (it says) is convinced of the truth of the Catholic religion, and resolved to make his declaration of it, and to reconcile himself with the Church of Rome, as soon as the affairs of his kingdom shall be suffi- ciently established to permit him." In truth, unprincipled ambition, shameless venality, and cool hypocrisy signalized the king, and that treaty, one competent to judge has said, will for ever remain a monument of ingratitude, perjury, and treason. " Hia perfidy was as spontaneous as it was unexampled."* At the same time, the king's brother, the dark-eouled Duke of York, was plotting for the restoration of Popery, and its twin power, despotism, with even more determined * Earl Russell CRIME ASCENDANT. 303 intrigues than the king's ; and it was to oppose these schemes against his country that Lord William Russell left the tran- quillity of private life to be involved in turmoils which ended only with his days. He saw what was in prepara- tion, what bonds and miseries were in store for Britain; and threw himself with manly calmness, yet with unwaver- ing zeal, into the task of preventing such results. The con- duct of the king, when in straits for money, to enable him to reign without a parliament, was such as would disgrace a professional impostor. On a certain day, he adopted a measure which was equivalent to seizing a million-and-a- half of other men's property, and that shameless step Russell deeply deplored. Further, the king attacked the Dutch fleet as it returned richly laden from the east, though peace still existed between Great Britain and Hol- land. By these means he hoped to replenish his exchequer, so that fraud and violence were the means at first employed to suppress the liberties of our island. Such doings needed a check; such times demanded pa- triots, and patriots appeared. Lord William Russell, as a lover of his country, stood in the front rank of those who thus came to the rescue of our liberties, although he seemed unfit for a popular leader. He was a man of undaunted courage and unshaken firmness, but yet slow of mind, and sparing of discourse. His judgment was sound when he had leisure to consider what was proposed, but there was nothing impulsive in his temperament ; and he seemed alto- gether unlikely ever to become prominent in times like those in which he lived. Yet such was his firmness, such his unfaltering decision, and such his high-toned morality, that his ascendency was everywhere acknowledged ; and they who had loved oppression soon learned to hate Russell. Perhaps no man ever possessed greater influence among hii friends. 304 INTRIGUES OF TYRANNY. In the year 1674, when parliament met on the 7th of January, it was obvious that the plots against the laws and liberties of this empire could not be much longer endured. Russell then made his first speech, in which the perfidious measures of government were plainly commented upon. Some of the king's advisers, among others the notorious Duke of Lauderdale, were assailed as the enemies of their country ; and a struggle as determined as ever shook a king- dom now began. The devices of tyranny were manifold : the boldness of Russell and his friends in confronting them were proportionate, and he was soon obliged to face royalty itself, to prevent it from becoming despotism of the worst type and we must remember it was a royalty then " Whose smile was rapture, and whose frown despair." It is well known, and has been already noticed, that the Duke of York, next heir to the throne, was bent on restor- ing Popery in Britain. He was as bigoted to the full as the bloody Mary. At the same time, his influence over the king was great, and always used for evil. It became re- quisite, therefore, to counteract this influence, and Rus- sell undertook to lead in the attempt. Not because he possessed extraordinary powers : not that he was endowed with the gift of eloquence : not that he was able to rouse the popular mind, or grapple with the accomplished in- triguers on the throne, beside it, or behind it ; but because he was a man of unswerving firmness, and temperate love of liberty, was Russell chosen to move regarding the royal brother ; and it is not difficult to picture the effort which it must have cost one constituted like him to confront those whom he would rather have honoured and revered for whom he may be said to have died praying, as he cherished all rightful love and homage. The history of those times, as it can now be calmly re- POPISH POLICY. 305 viewed, does not leave the shadow of a doubt that a deep plot was laid to restore Popery in Britain. England and Scotland alike were to become its victims once more. Coleman, who was at one time secretary to the Duke of York, wrote to one of the creatures of Charles in France, and said concerning England, "We have here a mighty work upon our hands, no less than the conversion of three kingdoms, and by that perhaps the utter subduing of a pestilent heresy which has domineered over great part of this northern world a long time." That was, in truth, the guiding aim of king, prince, and tool in those times. Deep and sinister plans were laid for the purpose, and nothing but measures the most energetic could ward off the woe. The question which patriots had then to ponder a dire and a painful one, no doubt, but forced upon them by necessity, was this : Shall we tamely lose both our religion and our liberty, or shall we meet and repel the aggression ? and Kussell, at least, was ready with an answer. At this stage men were compelled to act in a manner which all loyal subjects would gladly have avoided. A proposal was made to set aside the title of the Duke of York to succeed to the throne, and to ask the parliament to arrange regarding a successor to Charles. It was a bold measure, a painful one, and could be adopted only under the guidance of profound convictions, or a solemn sense of duty to the country. But Kussell, though most tem- perate, was resolute. Amid such discussions, the Duke of York might appear before the Commons, as he did, with tears in his eyes. Others might attempt the same womanish form of appeal ; but tears could neither melt the chains nor wash out the disgrace which were in prepara- tion for the three kingdoms, and Russell would not be moved. The struggle between power and liberty, accord- ingly, grew more keen. He was strongly backed by the 306 BOLD MEASURES. approbation of his country, as appears from the fact that he was chosen member for two counties at the same time. But the plot thickened, and Lord Kussell had need of all his self-possession to hold his own. On one occasion he heroically moved for a committee of the Commons to " draw up a bill to secure our religion and our properties in case of a Popish successor" such was his conviction of the threatening danger, and his means of providing against it. Following up this movement, it was next resolved that a Bill should be brought in " to disable the Duke of York to inherit the imperial crown of these realms." Men then knew the real nature and tendencies of Popery. They saw it preparing to extinguish the light and crush the freedom of their country, and could not passively submit to its usurpa- tions. On the contrary, they strove to secure the succes- sion to the throne to the next in line after the Duke of York, "in the same manner as if the Duke was dead," and may we not pause here and ponder over this grave and unparalleled proceeding ? How terrible must the bondage of Popery have appeared, when the prospect of its ascend- ency dictated such a measure ! How profound the pity we should feel for the men who so loved their country that they were compelled to oppose their prince rather than see that country trodden down, sold to France, and enthralled ! How infinite the obligations under which posterity lies to Russell and his friends, who forgot self and who sacrificed their very life rather than compromise what their country had entrusted to their keeping ! With a great price they had to secure our freedom, and deserve all the honours which still cluster round their memory. Such measures dragged their slow length along, at one time thwarted by the prorogation of parliament, at another by adverse decisions in the House of Lords. Once more, POPERY AND BONDAGE. 307 however, in the year 1680, Lord William Eussell stood forth to say, in his place in parliament : " I am of opinion that the life of our king, the safety of our country and the Protestant religion are in great danger from Popery, and that either this parliament must suppress the power and growth of Popery, or else that Popery will soon destroy not only par- liament, but all that is near and dear to us " Nothing daunted by delay, he persisted in pressing the subject on his fellow senators. He thoroughly knew the power and the wiles of Romanism. He had seen it rampant abroad, and tracked its sinister influence at home; and to him it was a matter of life or death to have the system so fettered as to be unable to injure his native land. The glorious Revolution of 1688 set its seal to his far-sighted wisdom and resolute persistency. Zealously attached as Russell was to the monarchy of Britain, he could not calmly see its liberties trampled on, and was therefore willing to adopt measures for " dis- abling James Duke of York from inheriting the impe- rial crown of this realm." The king was actually the pensioner of France, and that was ignominious. He was, moreover, a Romanist at heart, and that roused all the patriot's alarms. Money could not be voted to Charles, lest it should be employed to subvert the Protestant faith ; and while Russell declared that he was "ready to give all he had in the world" to get the abettors of Romanism removed from places of trust, he would vote no public money, for that " would only have the effect of destroying them- selves with their own hands." His zeal in some cases urged him, perhaps, to extremes, but it was a zeal which the experi- ence of ages has proved to be right in the main. He clung to his object with the vitality of a deep passion, and went to the scaffold and the grave rooted and grounded in the con- viction that Rome was the master enemy of Britain. Yet 308 THE MASTER EVIL. what success could such a man expect in an age so pro- fligate that Sir John Denham and Lord Chesterfield were both accused of poisoning their wives, while the latter is said to have added deeper horror to his crime by administer- ing death in the cup of communion.* One stands appalled at the tale of such villany, and yet it was but a sand grain to the mountain of the crimes of that age. But our present object does not require us to enter further into the details of this man's calm but resolute life. A time had come when good and evil, liberty and bondage were struggling face to face for the mastery in the land. The darkest evil was Popery, and against it Russell strove with all the energy of a nature which feared nothing but falsehood. Whether the parliament met at Oxford where the king could cherish the hope of packing it or in London, this patriot was at his post confronting the wrong with the right, and thraldom with freedom. His patriotism was fear- less ; his will indomitable ; his ardour unceasing, and he enjoyed some gleams of hope for his beloved country when he saw the Prince of Orange not unwilling to befriend the liberties for which our patriot had struggled so earnestly and so long. He was not, however, to be allowed to struggle much longer. In his own words, he had long " been sensible he would fall a sacrifice ; arbitrary power could not be set up in England without wading through his blood," and his foreboding was to be verified. The Meal-tub Plot a pre- tended conspiracy against the Duke of York had agitated not a few. It was contrived by a miscreant, who secreted a bundle of seditious letters in such a way that their discovery implicated some of the most prominent men of those times. But he was apprehended as the forger of those documents, and this led to the discovery of others concealed in a Meal- * See Earl Russell's Life of Lord W. Russell-" chap, iii. THE MEAL-TUB PLOT. 309 tub, and hence the name of the fictitious conspiracy. The author of it died of the punishment which was inflicted upon him for his crime. This took place in the year 1679, but in the spring of 1683, another and more formidable scheme was detected namely, the Rye-house Plot, by which, it is alleged, a plan was formed to murder the king and his brother on their return from the races at Newmarket. This plot is by many deemed as purely fictitious as the former ; but without entering into the controversy, it is enough to say here that Lord William Russell was arrested as a party to the design, and not a few of the noblest patriots of the day were seized in the same manner. He was examined before the King and Council, and forth- with committed a close prisoner to the Tower. He was able to deny all knowledge of the matters with which he was charged, though there can be no doubt that during those times of keen contention, when passion ran high, for danger was rife, he had allowed remarks or proposals to be made in his hearing which he should have indignantly put down. And he did recoil from them ; he abhorred them, whether as involving insurrection, or any attack upon the king; but when brought against him by informers and others, they gave a colour of truth to the charges. Upon his entering the Tower, he assured his servant that his enemies would have his life, and from that moment deemed himself a dying man. He accordingly turned his thoughts wholly to an- other world. The Scriptures, especially the Psalms, became bis frequent study, and he behaved with all the serenity of a man preparing or prepared to die. It will easily be believed that everything was done that could blacken or malign such a man as Russell ; but nothing was ever found to implicate him further than has been mentioned. On his trial at the Old Bailey, he was assisted by his wife, one of the most admirable and heroic women of (20) 20 310 LORD RUSSELL'S TRIA.L. any age ; but his condemnation was pre-determined, and no efforts could save him. Some of the usual forms of justice were outraged in his case. He had to challenge no fewer than thirty-one of the jurymen who were to try him ; and though he resisted, like some of his contemporaries in the same condition, at every point and upon every prin- ciple where he could repel the charges falsely brought against him, all was unavailing. It was well understood to be the will of the Court that he should die. Lawyers were obsequious; judges were subservient ; a jury was packed as far as possible, and the sentence was death. Witness after witness spoke in his favour. Dr. Burnet, Dr. Tillotson, and others, all upheld his integrity, and one of the witnesses at- tested as follows: "I have been acquainted with Lord Russell for several years, and conversed much with him. I took him to be one of the best sons, one of the best fathers, and one of the best masters, one of the best husbands, one of the best friends, and one of the best Christians we had." But in spite of all these testimonies he must die. He de- clared that he had " ever a heart sincerely affectionate to the king and government," and that he was always for preserv- ing it " upon the due basis and ancient foundation." He explained the different things laid to his charge in a man- ner which completely freed him, and history has accepted of his explanations as the truth. All thoughts of rebellion he disclaimed as abhorent to his nature, though parliamentary freedom he asserted to the last; but the hearts of those who tried him were not to be moved, and on Friday the 13th of July 1683, Lord William Russell was pronounced guilty of high treason. He had contended for freedom alike for soul and for body, at once against superstition and des- potism, and must pay the penalty of his boldness by meet- ing death at the hands of men who perpretrated a fragrant violation both of law and of justice. PREPARING FOR DEATH. 311 After his sentence, many attempts were made to save Lord Russell's life. It is said that 50,000, or even 100,000, were offered by the Earl of Bedford for his pardon ; but the king durst not yield for fear of incensing the Duke of York. Lady Russell applied to Charles, and proposals were made to accomplish Russell's deliverance in other ways. The king of France is said by some to have tried to obtain a pardon for him. He was himself over-persuaded to appeal to his king for mercy but all was vain; and from the first, he believed and declared that it would be so. He knew how deadly is the venom of Popery when it takes possession of man's nature, and expected nothing at its hands but relent- less persecution. Amid all this, however, his steadfastness never forsook him ; it increased as the scene darkened around him. Tillot- son and Burnet attempted, but in vain, to modify his views of civil liberty ; and while the axe was in course of being whetted to do execution upon him, Russell was steadfast still. During the week which intervened between his trial and his death, his patience, his fortitude, his affection to his family, his love of country, and his trust in God, became more and more signal. Of his own death he spoke with calmness, and a kind of dignity which awed those who were about him. He thanked God that, as a man, he had never feared death, and did not consider it with so much attention as the drawing of a tooth. His courage, he de- clared as death drew near, was of the kind which is sus tained by peace of conscience, and assurance of the mercy of God ; and his chief agitation in regard to death arose from the thought of being gazed at by his friends and enemies. He dreaded also his separation from Lady Russell ; indeed, the thought of that was the only thing that seemed at all to unman him. Steadfast as he had been in the discharge of duty, he was no less so in facing the last enemy, and 312 RUSSELL'S EXECUTION. though he fully confessed his sins, he had such repose in the Saviour's mercy that he passed on to death with greater tranquillity than those who accompanied him in that sad procession. He could not pretend, he said, to the high joys and longings of some on the verge of eternity ; but he felt entire resignation to the will of God, and a perfect serenity of soul, while he died in the hope that his death would do more service than his life could have done. Lord Russell's last interview with Lady Russell has in it a certain moral grandeur. He took her by the hand, re- marking that the flesh and blood which she felt would soon be cold. At the last, she so controlled her sorrows as not to aggravate his distress by the sight of hers ; and they parted, not with sobs and tears, but with composed silence, the wife wishing to spare the feelings of the husband, and the husband those of the wife. In truth, their grief was too great for utterance, and was subdued by a certain moral heroism peculiar to each. When she had left him, he ob- served that the bitterness of death was past and so it was. He slept calmly through the hours which intervened between that separation and his final moment. His composure and equanimity were actually sublime, and even when the exe- cutioner approached to do his last duty to the martyr of freedom, not a muscle quivered ; the cheek grew not pale. "I once looked at him," says Bishop Burnet, who was present on the scaffold, " and saw no change in his looks ; and though he was still lifting up his hands, there was no trembling, though in the moment in which I looked, the executioner happened to be laying his axe to the neck to direct him to take aim ; I thought it touched him, but am sure he seemed not to mind it." The executioner at two strokes severed the head of Lord Russell from his body ; and so perished in the forty-fourth year of his age, one of the noblest of the sons of Britain, for DYING THOUGHTS. 313 Russell was more noble by the grace of God than by hia lordly birth. While dying to vindicate our liberties, he evinced a heroism far above that which can confront kings, and suborned judges, and men blindly abetting tyranny. "In the words of a dying man," he said, " I know of no plot either against the king's life or government. But I have now done with the world, and am going to a better. I for- give all the world heartily, and I thank God I die in charity with all men, and I wish all sincere Protestants may love one another, and not make way for Popery by their ani- mosities I am now more satisfied to die than ever I have been." Nor did his love for men leave him even on the way to the scaffold. Just before leaving his prison he wound up his watch and said, " I have done with time ; now eternity comes;" but when he afterwards met Lord Cavendish, and took leave of him, he turned for an instant to press that nobleman to apply himself more to religion than he had hitherto done. He took care, moreover, that even when his body should be mouldering in the grave, truth should still circulate in his words among men. He had carefully pre- pared a document embodying his opinions, which he delivered to the sheriffs at his execution, and the following extracts will show how he lived, how he died, and how he may speak to us still : "... I bless God heartily," he says, " for those many bless- ings which he, in his infinite mercy, hath bestowed upon me through the whole course of my life ; that I was born of worthy and good parents, and had the advantage of religious education, which are invaluable blessings ; for even when I minded it least, it hung about me and gave me checks, and has now for many years so influenced and possessed me, that I feel the happy effects of it in this my extremity, in which I have been so wonderfully (I thank God) supported, 314 THE DEATH OF THE UPRIGHT. that neither my imprisonment nor fear of death has been able to discompose me in any degree; but on the con- trary, I have found the assurances of the love and mercy of God in and through my blessed Redeemer, in whom only I trust ; and I do not question but I am going to partake of the fulness of joy which is in his presence. These hopes, therefore, do so wonderfully delight me, that I think this is the happiest time of my life, though others may look upon it as the saddest " For Popery," he proceeds, "I look on it as an idolatrous and a bloody religion, and therefore thought myself bound in my station to do all I could against it ; and by that I fore- saw I should procure such great enemies to myself, and so powerful ones, that I have been now for some time expect- ing the worst, and, blessed be God ! I fall by the axe, and not by the fiery trial. Yet whatever apprehensions I had of Popery and of my own severe and heavy share I was like to have under it, when it should prevail, I never had a thought of doing anything against it, basely or inhumanely, but what would consist with the Christian religion, and the laws and liberties of the kingdom." Such, then, was the man who could not be tolerated by royalty in this land about two hundred years ago ; his blood must flow upon the scaffold because he would not let tyranny trample on the laws of man, nor Popery upon the truth of God. Never did a calmer mind mingle in the strifes of men. Never did a more self-contained soul address itself to duty, heedless of personal suffering, bent only on the right and the just. Never was man more decided and unflinching wherever conscience bound, or truth led the way firm in the senate firm before his judges firmest on the scaffold. What was death to him when the Saviour in whom he resolutely confided was ever at his right hand? That truth which imparts a certain majesty POSTHUMOUS HONOUR. 315 even to the humblest, when it is enthroned in the heart, made Russell more than noble ; and thus upheld, his con- victions, ' O'erswept All pain, all time, all fears, and pealed Like the eternal thunders of the deep, Into his ears this truth 'Thou liv'st for ever.' " And the memory of the just is blessed. When William of Orange sat upon the throne of these realms, the second Act to which he affixed his signature was one for reversing the attainder of Russell, and in which his execution was called a murder. In 1694, the Earl of Bedford was created a duke, and one reason assigned was that "he was the father of Lord Russell, the ornament of his age." So com- pletely had Lord William Russell now found his right place in the minds of men, that the king and queen wished their royal patent to " remain in the family as a monument consecrated to his consummate virtue, whose name could never be forgot, so long as men preserved any esteem for sanc- tity of manners, greatness of mind, and a love of their country, constant even to death." In brief, every stigma which had been attached to the name of the Martyr was now effaced as far as royalty could do so. His honours were more than restored, and were it our object here to trace the history of the family which he left behind him, it would appear that honour after honour was heaped also upon them ; the calm, intrepid man left them a rich legacy when he submitted to death, rather than be a party to the destruction of British liberty. VI EDMUND BURKE. 17301797. " Unmoved, Unshaken, unseduceil, unterrified, His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal ; Nor number, nor example with him wrought To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind Though single. From amidst them forth he passed Long way through hostile scorn, which he sustained Superior, nor of violence feared aught ; And with retorted scorn his back he turned On those proud towers to swift destruction doomed." MILTON. His Birth-BoyhoodTraining at Trinity College-Goes to London-Enters Middle Temple His Literary Pursuits Pecuniary Difficulties Struggles Dr. Johnson Becomes a Politician Receives a Pension Rejects it Becomes Secretary to Prime Minister Enters Parliament His Success Changes- Buys an Estate His Labours in Parliament The American Revolution The French Revolution Trial of Warren Hastings Burke's General Character His Trials- Decline-Death. |HAT must have been a remarkable man of whom it could be said, "He not merely excelled all his contemporaries in the number of his powers, but some in the peculiar excellence belonging to each : a toler- able poet even while aboy; a penetrating philosopher; an acute critic ; and a judicious historian when a very young man ; a judge of the fine arts whose opinions even Reynolds valued ; a political economist when the science was scarcely known, or known to very few ; a statesman often pronounced the wisest that ever adorned our country ; an orator second to none of any age ; a writer of extraordinary powers on every subject; and in politics the first for depth and eloquence in our language ; and, in addition to these, possessed of a vast EARLY TRAINING. 317 and multifarious store of knowledge of which all who had any intercourse with him, whether friend or opponent, have spoken in terms of strong admiration and surprise." Such was EDMUND BURKE, a man who has been called "a vast storehouse of knowledge," "a mighty mind," "a wonderful man," " an illustrious man," " an unequalled man," " an all-knowing mind," " a boundless mind," " an exhaustless mind," " the most consummate orator of the age," " the greatest orator and wisest statesman of modern times." From the life of such a man, his rise, progress, and ascendency, some deep lessons may be learned, especially as he had difficulties to surmount, and obstacles to encounter, such as might have repressed a less imperial mind. He was literally the architect of his own fortune. By sheer power he took possession of the lofty position to which he mounted ; and what were the stages, what was the spirit, the energy, or the means by which he reached it? Let us trace them. This distinguished man was born in Dublin, on the 1st of January 1730, 0. S., but little is remembered concerning his early years. His constitution was deemed consumptive, and he was thus prevented, in very early youth, from profiting by public instructions. His first instructor was an elderly woman who was partial to the boy, and found amusement in train- ing his mind. His father was an attorney in the Irish capital, and though the accounts of his resources are some- what conflicting, his position was respectable us his lineage was honourable. In youth Edmund Burke was often removed from place to place on account of his health ; and so many parts of Ireland became associated with his name, that no fewer than seven compete for the honour of his birthplace. In his twelfth year he was placed at a school in Ballitore, in the county of Kildare, and there he became remarkable rather for solidity than for aught that promised 318 TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN. brilliance; rather for steady application and perseverance than for powers that could indicate his future greatness. He was then, as he always continued, of a deeply sensitive nature ; fond of being alone ; less lively than other boys, but always willing to teach what he knew or learn what he did not. Even then it appeared that the hatred of oppression, and of the exercise of might against right was to form a prominent feature in his character. He was always on the side of the weak As Edmund Burke was one of those who have to work their own way to eminence, his profession was a matter of great importance. In 1744, he entered Trinity College, Dublin, as a student ; but while there, his talents do not appear to have rendered him more than respectable. He was not, indeed, wholly undistinguished; but nothing as yet betokened the man who was to " control the destinies of the world," as some of his admirers boast that he did. He pursued his studies, however, with not a little zeal Shakespeare, Bacon, Addison, and others were his favou- ites among our authors. Demosthenes was his favourite orator ; and other classics of antiquity he studied with assi- duity, making their beauties his own, and quietly clearing out, if not actually laying, the foundation of mental power. As soon as he had taken his degree at Trinity College, young Burke hastened to London it was in 1750 with a view to qualify for admission to the English bar. When he left Ireland, his sensitive nature, he tells us, sought relief in tears. The attractions of home and kindred which endeared " the family burying-ground," even to his young nature, appeared then in great vigour, and clung to him beautifully all through life. London, after a short survey, he described as containing just two classes the undoers and the undone and though the distribution was unjust, it is not altogether inapplicable. EARLY STRUGGLES. 319 It appears that either he did not find the study of law congenial to his taste, or that his health was not equal to the drudgery ; and he soon abandoned it for the more fasci- nating though often profitless pursuits of general literature. He was never called to the bar ; and from this period, the year 1752, we may date some of the struggles through which he had to pass, on his way to his place in the great arena of life. Instead of devoting his time to Littleton and Coke, and other lights of the law, he was forced, by his straitened circumstances, to support himself by literary labour. The exhausted state of his finances demanded some immediate means of recruiting them, and essays, letters, and para- graphs for the periodical publications of the day became his means of support. Either his father was unable to assist him, or Edmund's change of pursuit had displeased him ; and, judging from some accounts, the life of the future statesman was, at this date, one of make-shifts to secure a compet- ence. He was not, however, to be daunted by such difficulties ; nay, he manfully faced them, like one determined not to be repressed. He became a candidate for a chair of philosophy in the University of Glasgow, but failed ; he planned various literary works ; he published pamphlets ; and imitated some of the distinguished writers of the times so expertly that his publications were sold as theirs. Amid all this his conduct at this time has somewhat the appearance of a struggle for existence in the sphere which he had selected ; his habits, from necessity or choice, were those of an assi- duous plodder. His application was unwearied, for what- ever of genius might be stirring within him, he knew that all depended upon persistence ; and he did not trust for a day to chance, but moved forward amid the difficulties which surrounded him, acquiring knowledge, storing it up, and unconsciously preparing for the time when he was to 320 PERSEVEKANCE AND SUCCESS. astonish the empire by his powers. He had no excesses, it has been said, but those of study. His first essays at oratory were made at a debating club, where his chief opponent was a baker, a man so stringent in his logic, and so powerful in discussion, that it was said of him he should have been made Lord Chancellor of England. It was against that champion who, for some time, held the lists against all comers, that Burke first whetted his lance ; and though victory was often on the side of the baker, the future orator was just the better trained for a higher sphere of action. Burke had now secured admission into the high literary circles in London. He published a treatise on the Sublime and Beautiful, which, among other effects, restored him to friendly terms with his father, who sent him a gift of one hundred pounds. Withal, however, his pecuniary straits at this period were great, and might have damped the ardour of one less resolute than Edmund Burke. So great was his embarrassment at one period that he had actually to sell his library a measure, doubtless, to which nothing but the extremity of distress could have driven him. Some of his friends have attempted to throw doubt upon this fact ; but it is too well established to be denied; and it shows us, in one example more, what obstacles Burke had to surmount, and through what difficulties he had to force his way, ere he reached the level which made him the marked of all observers. Translations from the Latin, Biography, an Essay on the Drama, a " Vindication of Natural Society," were the means of gratifying his literary tastes, or of earn- ing his daily bread ; and through these labyrinths he worked his way, till at the age of twenty-five he published the book just mentioned his Essay on the Sublime and the Beautiful. In solitude, amid irksome toils, he continued to write for pay. For one work he received fifty guineas ; for another DIFFICULTIES IN LIFE. 321 one hundred ; and it was thus that the future lawgiver was trained for his allotted work. " He who writes otherwise than for money is a fool," was a dogma of Dr. Johnson's ; from necessity, Burke made it his own, and lived by what he earned. Such were his prospects at this period, so unpromising and dubious, that he thought of emigrating to America. The motive for this is unknown, but his plans were changed ; and he struggled on under the pressure of providing for the wants of an increasing family. One of his firmest friends tells us of his indigent circumstances, but assures us also that no bribe, however magnificent, could tempt Burke to be untrue to his own convictions. Goldsmith, his countryman and associate, might jocularly describe him as, " For a patriot too cool, for a drudge disobedient, And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient, In short, 'twas his fate, unemployed, or in place, sir, To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor." But, the wit of the words apart, even thus early, Burke was resolutely firm in upholding what he deemed the good and the right. He had been early trained in the knowledge of the sacred Scriptures, and their power over him was never disowned. Even when he had reached his highest eminence, his income is described by his admirers as a poor pittance compared with his expenditure ; and there is evidence that he had to struggle against the pressure of debt, not merely at the commencement of his career, but at various subsequent stages. About this period, Burke became acquainted with Dr. Johnson ; and even that colossus of literature was con- strained to defer to the wondrous acquirements of the straggling Irishman. Johnson's praise of him was cordial, constant, and deep ; indeed Burke was from the first hia special favourite, and admiration of the orator's genius drew 322 ONWARD AND UPWARD. forth eulogies which were precious because they were rare. " Burke is an extraordinary man," he said, " his stream of mind is perpetual." " No man of sense could meet Burke by accident under a gateway, to avoid a shower, without being convinced that he was the first man in England," and the prediction was speedily verified to the full. Whatever impediments might hamper Burke at first, and though he, like many more, might find that literature as a profession was poor and pinching, he was soon to surmount all diffi- culties, and claim his place among the men whose names and influence are more than European. He had been early drawn, as if by some latent instinct, to frequent the House of Commons, and listen to the debates, and this enticed him more and more into the region of poli- tics. Some allege that he was then living in obscurity and distress; but whether that be true or only a slander, he now enters on the path where he is to leave his mark upon thousands. This, however, was not reached without many a struggle more. " I was not," he said, " swaddled, rocked, and dandled into a legislator Nitor in adversum, I struggle against opposition, is the motto for a man like me ;" and Nitor in adversum might be inscribed upon every page that describes his career. The culture of his mind was elaborate and comprehensive. The ancients and the moderns, law, morals, politics, science, poetry, history, criticism, all had been laid under contribution to furnish his mind. Per- haps no man who ever entered the House of Commons had laboured so diligently to qualify himself for that sphere as Burke had done, and in this respect he is a model of eager and successful endeavour. He began to move forward at first slowly, and amid numerous entanglements ; but it was the procession of an avalanche, it was the swoop of an eagle, and nothing could stand against its onward movement. All this, be it remembered, was accomplished, not amid the RECEIVES A PENSION REJECTS IT. 323 quietude of affluence, but in the bustle of straggling for an adequate provision in life. When Burke entered parliament he was about thirty-six years of age. In the month of March 1761, he had been appointed private secretary to the Secretary-in-chief of the Irish Lord-Lieutenant of the day, and proceeded in that capacity to his native island. His literary pursuits were not, however, abandoned, as he frequently visited London regarding them. In the spirit of those times, his ser- vices in Ireland were requited by a pension of 300 per annum ; but in less than eighteen months he, with charac- teristic decision, renounced it, because he found that he was expected, in return, to stoop to things which his generous soul abhorred. Upon that pecuniary allowance, claims for future servitude were founded, to which he was not the man calmly to submit : he had struggled for bread, and he could struggle again, but he could not bow down to be base. The impression still exists, in some minds, that by that pension Burke was to be rescued from the pressure of poverty; but be that as it may, he would not let good offices become snares : he would suffer no man to transform his reward for long and laborious services into a chain with which to bind him ; and with some degree of indignation he spurned both the proposal and the pension away. His honest independence here appears for the first time in the higher spheres of public life. Though Burke was still in pursuit of employment, and though necessarily straitened in circumstances, he began, with true Irish generosity, to foster genius, and to find as- sistance for some who were struggling like himself along the rugged, upward way. He continued, however, to culti- vate his powers by all available methods. Such solitary drudgery as literary men often have to perform was enlivened by the debates at the "Robin Hood" society, 324 THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. already mentioned ; and now he is carefully adding to his stores by intercourse with the leading minds of London and the empire. At all times, however, he was open, decided, and bold. He chose his path without fear when he be- lieved it was the path of duty, and walked in it in the same spirit. He was avaricious of excellence, though the poor celebrity of shining was never coveted by Burke. His earlier career, in short, is a model of persistency, of devoted struggles, and aims so well directed as certainly to lead to success in life. At length the time arrived when he who was already reckoned by some the foremost man in England, was to reach his proper sphere he entered the House of Commons. On the way thither he had met with many assailants. The zealots of corruption hated his patriotism, and again and again was he checkmated in his path. But his favourite maxim, "Nitor in adversum"' continued his watchword, and he became one of the most remarkable men that ever climbed from middle life to influence an empire, or take a place at the right hand of royalty itself. It was one of those changes in the rulers of this land so common in stormy times that introduced Burke into parliament. In the year 1765 he had become Secretary to a nobleman who was for some time prime minister of Britain, and was by him ad- vanced to the position for which he was in providence so wonderfully fitted. But his office of Secretary, and the honours which it opened up, were not to be enjoyed with- out a struggle ; nay, he must fight every inch of his way, and if the conflict with indigence, or something akin to it, be over now, another contest must immediately take its place. To his chief, the Marquis of Rockingham, Burke was accused as a man of dangerous principles, and a Papist. One of his first acts, therefore, was to defend himself against that charge, and disabuse the mind of the premier. His "DARTING INTO FAME." 325 frankness accomplished that at once; but he proposed to surrender his appointment, as the confidence of the marquis might be impaired. Such manly independence and such delicate feeling vanquished every scruple; and the result was a mutual attachment which lasted through life. In con- sequence of this connection, Burke was brought into par- liament as member for Wendover. Having thus battled his way, then, up to that place of power, it soon became apparent that Edmund Burke would make himself felt. Even Johnson, though unaccustomed to praise, and, least of all, to praise one who opposed him, as Burke did, in politics, confessed that the member for Wendover had gained more reputation by his first appear- ance in parliament than perhaps any man had ever done before. His speeches "filled the town with wonder ;" "all at once he darted into fame," while he seemed as intent on doing good to his country as if he had been to receive a pre- mium from the commerce of the empire which he tried to extend. Before invincible perseverance, and manly inde- pendence, directed by the lights of all ages concentrated upon his own pursuits, this man is henceforth the property of the nation : indeed, as we proceed, it will be seen that he became, in some respects, the world's benefactor, though he had largely to pay the price which malignity exacts from worth, or envy from success. A change in the government left Burke again unemployed. He refused to be a party to some political arrangements which were then made, and, indeed, was regarded by some as an intruder, if not an usurper of the place of power. He had neither commanding wealth nor high connections ; and men who had both, looked askance upon one who had, by the mastery wnich mind asserts, taken his place beside those who reckoned themselves born to rule this empire, or even threatened to mount above them. Some of that (20J 21 326 THE LIBERALITIES OF FRIENDSHIP. class felt themselves overshadowed by his nearness, or dwarfed by his greatness for, to paltry minds, one who vaults from private life, not to say obscurity, into the high offices of the state, is scarcely to be endured. Some of the loftiest, however, were constrained to do homage to his powers, and offer him a new position in the government. But to the stipulations which were proposed to him he refused to accede. About this period, the year 1768, Burke was returned again for Wendover. He now purchased an estate, for which he paid upwards of 20,000, where he chiefly re- sided till his death. It has always been one of the mys- teries of his life where such a sum could be found by one who, a few years before, had been obliged to sell his library to meet the claims of the passing day; and those who have attempted to solve the mystery have done so rather by alle- gations and assumptions than by established facts. He had now succeeded to his father's property, by the death of hia elder brother ; but that was a pittance compared with the sum which was paid for his new abode, and the alternative is that money was lent or gifted by a lordly patron. Some of his admirers have wished that he had rather continued to live by his literary labours, than become a grandee and a senator by the help of such donations. More than once, how- ever, Burke was indebted to such kindness. By his Will, Sir Joshua Reynolds cancelled a bond on the great statesman for 2000, and bequeathed to him a similar sum ; while an eminent physician and friend anticipated his own Will, and paid to Burke 1000, because he had heard that the great orator was pressed by pecuniary difficulties. It was well that he had friends to proclaim abroad that he was "proof against his own embarrassed circumstances" in all that related to public measures, for these pecuniary wants might have proved a snare. PATRIOTIC RESOLUTIONS. 327 The object of this sketch is nearly completed when Burke has been followed through his early difficulties and struggles to the front rank of the foremost in Britain. In all the great questions which agitated or engrossed the British Senate from this period till nearly the day of his death, he stood conspicuously forth. But without following him through all the windings of his political career, it must be enough to indicate some of the questions, in the discussion of which Edmund Burke made himself illustrious. This is not a biography in which to follow him year by year, and stage by stage, through the details of his life ; it is only a lesson derived from biography, and designed to show how consistent conduct, decision of character, and perseverance directed by principle, may render a humble man useful, honourable, and honoured. Burke, then, had early made up his mind as to the career he should pursue in public life. He resolutely repudi- ated the idea of siding with the rich and the powerful against the poor and the weak. He resolved to set his face against any act of pride or power, though countenanced even by the highest ; and proclaimed in parliament that " if it should come to the last extremity, and to a contest of blood, his post was taken he would take his fate with the poor, and low, and feeble." Animated by such principles, so sound, and so patriotic, he speedily had occasion to apply them in practice. The first very great occasion in which his wonderful powers were exerted was the proposal to tax our American Colonies in a parliament where they were not represented. The result of these measures is now well known. First, an active and organized opposition on the part of America to all such proposals ; then war and bloodshed ; then Independ- ence, made good at the cost of millions of treasure, and more in disgrace, to the empire of Britain. From the first Burke 328 OPPRESSION BAFFLED. boldly and resolutely opposed the taxation; he resisted it at every stage as unconstitutional and oppressive. He predicted what would be the result of the unnatural struggle between the parent and the offspring states ; and by wit and argument, by constitutional pleading, and a strain of eloquence, which placed him beside Demosthenes, and above Cicero in terrible power, he strove to avert the day of coming separation. Upon that and kindred subjects he poured forth pamphlets, speeches, disquisi- tions in rapid succession ; and even though he had not announced it, his conduct would have showed that what he called " that master vice of sloth," did not enter into his composition as a statesman. Standing bravely up for the subject's just rights, and disclaiming, like a high-souled man, the monstrous dogma that the people live but for the king the self-complacent tenet of every despot he was the champion of freedom in every land, for the men of every tongue and colour. He implored the British par- liament not to tax America, but to leave America to tax her- self : " When you drive him hard," he exclaimed, " the boar will turn upon the hunters. If your sovereignty and Ameri- can freedom cannot be reconciled, which will the Americans take ? They will cast your sovereignty in your face," and they did it. The Declaration of Independence made on the 4th of July, 1776, amply verified the prophecies of Burke, while it covered the British name with the disgrace which attaches to impotent and baffled oppression. In consequence of this and similar displays of power, Burke had become the leader of opposition the first in eloquence, high in fame, and admitted to the counsels of the chief men of the nation. He who was lately depen- dent upon a precarious income for support now appears as the champion of the oppressed, and he did it in a style which left radiant streaks behind him in the path which he trod. CALUMNY AND WAR. 329 Philosophy and facts to illustrate it, politics, and the only principles on which they can be safely based, seemed to be all his own. Even Fox confessed that Burke was his master ; that he had learned more from him than from all books, and all study, and wept like childhood in the British parliament, because the great orator declined to follow him in some of his measures. Amid all these things, the resolute man was still assailed by calumny in nearly every form. It was with him as with Wilberforce when he pled against slavery : rancour- ous hatred traduced him ; names odious to his nature were applied to him ; he was treated as the friend of rebels, and the abettor of rebellion ; but on he moved undaunted he had chosen his path and would not swerve. Those who stand on some elevated spot near the elephant's feeding ground, can trace his progress through the forest by the crashing and agitation of the trees on the line of his march, and it was even so with Burke in his contests for freedom. It often happened that all around was shaken by his power ; even enemies were awed for a time by his grandeur, and it is not wonderful that amid such displays he was returned to parliament for two places at once, namely, Malton, and Bristol. His prophecies, indeed, like those of Cassandra, were often unheeded, till they were verified by melancholy facts ; but we wonder just the more at the sagacity and com- prehension of the prophet. His orations and his struggles to avert, if possible, the American Revolution, were enough to immortalize him. In the discussions he might some- times announce his convictions with asperity, or press them imperiously, as the consciousness of power often prompts men to do. But whatever was the cause, parliament would not listen to his appeals ; and the first blood shed at Lexing- ton and Bunker's Hill, the raising of armies in America, and the nomination of Washington as commander-in-chief, made all hope of conciliation vain. Burke had implored the ministry 330 IMPROVEMENT CHECKED. of the day not to consider those matters in the spirit of the irritated porcupine with its spines set up ; but the result of all was war prolonged, taxes increased in the vain attempt to subdue the people of America, and other portions of the empire heaving in the premonitory throes of revolution. We do think that the sagacity of one man, had it been con- sulted, would have prevented all this. " For my own part," he once said at a period of dreaded revolt, and when retrench- ment was loudly demanded, "I have very little to recom- mend me for this, or for any task, but a kind of earnest and anxious perseverance of mind, which, with all its good and all its evil effects, is moulded into my constitution." The disclaimer here is untrue, but the rest is one explanation of his power. And Burke did address himself to retrenchment with all his heart. Were this a political history, the bare enume- ration of his different proposals would startle us, unless we had the courage of this great statesman. But here again he had to persevere in his chosen path against an amount of antagonism such as only he could resist. His measures were contested inch by inch. They were pared away by various counter plans, till they became comparatively insignifi- cant ; for great as were the savings which he effected to the nation, they formed but a fraction of what he had aimed at in the face of sordid selfishness and hostile influence in every form. It has been said that " statesmen are the most vili- fied of all the animals in the creation," and Burke in this respect also, was among the foremost. He had to snatch time for his parliamentary preparations, and make them in ways which can scarcely be credited ; and yet with all his grandeur, there were men in parliament who coughed or brayed him into silence, when they could not otherwise answer his appeals. Another of the great questions to which Burke brought al] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 331 the energies of his nature, and where he evinced indomitable decision, was the French Revolution. It is well known that with that fiery and bloody outbreak in its earliest stages, thousands in this land sympathized. It was hailed as the harbinger of universal liberty the emancipation of the nations from oppression and many of the halls of the titled as well as the homes of the humble, were roused into a jubilee of joy by the event. But Burke had been recently in France. He had marked the symptoms of ap- proaching convulsion ; and far from sympathizing with the joy which was felt in Britain, he predicted the bloodshed and the woes which were sure to follow, and determined to warn his misguided country. But he was in conflict here with some of his best friends, for example, Fox and others whom he loved, and who revered him. But that did not shake his steadfast mind. By oration after oration by his work on the French Revolution and by efforts of prodigious power in every direction, he strove to rouse men to a sense of the danger that was coming. Again was he vilified and defamed alike by populace and peer ; but again he stood undaunted. In lampoon, in cari- cature, in pamphlets without number he was assailed, but he pitted his own convictions against them all. Slowly the tide of opinion began to turn the rivers of blood which flowed the millions spent in war the appalling doctrines which were current and the military despotism which crowned the whole were all foretold by Edmund Burke and though he was summoned away to the world which we must die to see, long before the pacification, it is one of the most striking things in history that he sketched with some minuteness what would be the manner of the end. It was once more Athanasius against the world. " The more one has to do, the more one is capable of doing," was one of Burke's maxims, and his life, especially at thia 332 WAEREN HASTINGS. period, was an example. His next great enterprise perhaps his greatest was the impeachment of Warren Hastings, the Governor-general of India, for high crimes, misdemeanours, and deeds of oppression in that marvellous portion of the empire. But here again, he had a host of antagonists to encounter, and labours Herculean to undergo. Through several weary years that trial was protracted, and never did mortal man, perhaps, appear in greater majesty of mind than did Burke when asserting and proving the oppressions of one whom he believed to be a cold-blooded tyrant, orien- talized by habits which developed his in-born ferocity. But whether these opinions be extreme, or truthful, that trial formed an era in the history of oratory and of mind. The illustrious culprit was acquitted, but as the states- man depicted the misdeeds of the oppressor, the agony occasioned by the mere recital the fainting of some among his auditors the tears shed by many long unused to weep, all displayed his marvellous power over the mind of man. He had noble coadjutors in that work, but he towers far above them all : the impersonation of oratory, of generous indignation, of sarcasm, of pathos of all, in short, that can render illustrious by the use of words, the most amazing of all God's gifts to man. All that on the part of one who had lately written books for a livelihood. Burke, we have seen, was one of those who are born with a detestation of everything like oppression : it reigned im- periously in his soul, and the entire energies of his mind were directed against injustice wherever it appeared. In the case of a parliament, as when ours would have taxed America ; of a nation, as amid the bloody scenes of the French Revolu- tion, presided over by Danton, Murat, or Robespierre ; or of a man, as in the Governor-General of India, Burke launched forth with an impetuosity which amounted to fury, and suggested the idea of mania to minds which saw " REMEMBER RESEMBLE PERSEVERE." 333 less vividly or less comprehensively than he did. " Let who will shrink back," he once exclaimed, " I shall be found at my post. Baffled, discountenanced, subdued, discredited, as the cause of justice and humanity is, it will be only the dearer to me," and he kept his resolution. Through ten years for the trial of Hastings through all its evolutions was spread over that period he persisted in his efforts, to fail at last in one respect, but not till he had made some of the most remarkable displays of mental power that ever were made by man. In preparing an inscription for a mausoleum to the Marquis of Rockingham, Burke closed it with the words "Remember Resemble Persevere." and they might be inscribed upon his own tomb. In some respects he had his reward. When he attempted to roll back the tide of blood, and mitigate the reign of anarchy, introduced by the French Revolution, an emperor, and an empress, the sovereigns of the continent, and many princes sent him their felicitations. Honours flowed in upon him from royalty downwards ; and if that had been the object for which he lived, he was gratified to the full He perhaps overdid his advocacy there is rarely a middle path for minds of his order ; but his efforts gave the first serious check to a system which threatened to subvert all rule and all order to trample alike on the laws of God and of man. The recoil from such a system led Burke, in some of his plead- ings, to extreme views in which despotism is fain to lurk, and wait for a fit time to oppress the people. But that was not a day for half opinions, or hesitating verdicts ; a bold anta- gonism was required to arrest the surging desolation. He whose life was a continued struggle for the liberty of others was reviled, indeed, as the enemy of liberty. The attacks made against him in every form which virulence could dic- tate are computed to have amounted " to many thousands." 334 AX IDOL BROKEN. Like the breakwater at Plymouth, Burke had to withstand a terrific onset, but he did withstand it, and thousands were roused to a sense of their danger. Amid all this, however, he was soon to experience the truth of his own words : " What shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue." His feelings and affections were all passions, and he clung to the objects of his regard with admirable tenacity. Even after he had risen to power, he could still spin the tops of his young visitors, as at an earlier period he had often romped with his children in their nursery. He could patronize poor artists, and poorer poets. He could pick up a fallen, forlorn woman in the street, conduct her to his own home, and restore her to virtue. He could resort to retreats for lunatics, there to study their malady and know its effects ; and in a hundred ways he could show how tender and how acute were his sympathies with the wretched. But just the more on that account, did he suffer when his own feelings were torn. He had an only son, an idol He died, and the deportment of the bereaved father was an agony that was unutterable. If he had great powers to wield, he had just the greater power of suffering, and he did suffer to the verge of madness " truly terrific " are the words applied to that grief. " His bursts of affliction were of fearful force, so overwhelming as to frighten and almost paralyze those who were around him." Life from this time became all sadness a sadness which tinctured all that he did. He referred to " the short and cheerless " residue of his pilgrimage. " For myself, or my family, (alas ! I have none), I have nothing to hope or to fear in this world," was one of his sad confessions. " The sorrows of a desolate old man," he said were his lot. "The storm has gone over me," he wrote, " and I lie like one of those old oaks which the hurricane scatters around us. ... I am torn up by the roots, and lie prostrate on the earth." " I am alone, I have DECLINE AND DEATH. 335 none to meet ray enemies in the gate. . . ." These and similar utterances of grief tell how deeply the iron had entered his soul. The result was a somewhat premature decay, and Edmund Burke became before his time "a dejected old man, buried in the anticipated grave of a feeble old age." But where was religion in this man's case ? Was there nothing in it to point to peace, and explain the reason of the woe which shook him to weakness 1 Was it a failure in his case, or did he fail to profit by its lessons ? The latter is the explanation of his undried tears. His friends, we have seen, are fond of asserting that he " controlled the destinies of the world " by his later writings why, then, did he not control his own spirit ? He had been early trained in the knowledge of Revelation. He was fond of quoting the sacred volume in his speeches, and some of his sentiments, as recorded, are in harmony with Truth; but it does not appear that he allowed it to hold that ascendency in his soul which would have made him, as a man, still nobler, grander, and more commanding than he was hence his sorrows unsoothed, and his great spirit crushed. "I be- queath my soul to God, hoping for his mercy only through the merits of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ," were words employed in his Will and when he said that none should ever hold any attitude but that of a penitent, because he could never have any character but that of a sinner, he spoke a deep truth. But, beyond all controversy, his life would have been still grander and more sublime than it was, had the truth as it is in Jesus been more consulted, more obeyed, and more prominent in his mind. Burke died at Beaconsfield on the 8th of July 1797, and in the sixty-eighth year of his age. His departure was sin- gularly serene, yet one of his last advices regarding public affairs was characteristic of his " wonted fire." " Never," he said, " succumb to the enemy : it is a struggle for your existence as a nation, and if you must die, die with the sword in your hand .... persevere till this tyranny (that of revolutionary France) be overpast." Amid all this ardour, however, he submitted with placid resignation, undisturbed by a murmur, to his growing debility, hoping, as he said, " to obtain the divine mercy through the intercession of a blessed Redeemer," which " he had long sought with un- feigned humiliation, and to which he looked with a trem- bling hope." Such is the glimpse we have to present of this great man great as an orator, a statesman, a patriot, and an author. He has been pronounced a man "of unspotted innocence, and firm integrity," and though we may not go so far, there need be no hesitation in declaring him one of the most remarkable men of a remarkable age. His rise from comparative indigence and obscurity to a leading position among British statesmen, where he was offered, but declined, a place among the peers, renders his life a profitable study for those who would so live as to be missed when they die. He chose his path wisely ; he walked in it with the decision and the energy of one who thought that he had truth for his guide, and the public good for his aim, and though Goldsmith's criticism may be true that " Burke gave up to party what was meant for mankind," it is no less true that, as a partizan, he was one of the grandest that our nation ever saw. Page after page might be filled with the eulogies which were heaped upon him. From his sovereign, down through all ranks, including Charles James Fox, Sheridan, Johnson, and nearly all that were illustrious in his day, our language was laid under tribute to describe the orator, his wisdom, his learning, and his powers. YII. HENRY GRATTAN. 1750-1830. " Erin ! my mother, I will love thee, Whether upon thy free Atlantic throne Thou sitt'st august, majestic, and sublime, Or on thy empire's last remaining fragment Bendest forlorn, dejected, and forsaken. Thy smiles, thy tears, thy blessings, and thy woes, Thy glory and thy infamy be mine." WOLTI. His birth Education Enters Parliament Degradation of Ireland Grattan's efforts and success Granted 50,000 by Parliament Opposed Renews his struggles In the British Parliament- His style of speaking His death And character The lessons of his life. |PART from the Bible, there is no gift bestowed by God upon man to be compared with the use of words. The highest Authority calls the tongue both a fire and a world * a fire because it. penetrates and ignites a world because in it or by means of it, all good or all evil may be produced. Words nay, a single word t may cause the heart to thrill with ecstasy or to throb with anguish may spread peace or war among the nations may lead to life or to death for ever may elevate man to a throne, or even as a subject enable him to rule among the peoples. Words, in short, seem to make man more nearly creative than any other gift which he possesses. Without them, reason itself would be feeble, perhaps useless with them, what might not even mere instinct achieve ? Men who seemed contemptible in other respects have, by the ascendency of words, become the leaders, the dictators, the * JamebilL & t See John xx. 16. 338 EARLY STRUGGLES. tyrants, or the benefactors of thousands. They have swayed the fierce democracy, or urged the soul nearer to God. HENRY GRATTAN was able to wield this power in a manner which has rarely been surpassed. He was born in Dublin in the year 1750. His father was a barrister, and Recorder of the city, but not affluent ; and the son had to depend on the exertion of his own powers for advancement in the world. He was educated at Trinity College, in his native city, and became distinguished there as a student. He subsequently went to London, and began the study of law in the Middle Temple ; and it is said that while there, like his distinguished countryman, Burke, he was so strait- ened in his circumstances that, to obtain food for his mind, he had to stint the supply for his body. But a soul so resolute as that of young Grattan was not to be repressed by obstacles such as these. On the contrary, though his fare might be meagre or scanty, his industry was ceaseless. His desire to prosecute his studies was so great, and his wish to redeem time for that purpose so pressing, that he invented an alarum of a peculiar construction to awake him betimes for his work He filled a small barrel with water and placed it over a basin on a shelf just above his pillow. The cock of the barrel was so far turned as to fill the basin in a given time, after which the water flowed over, fell upon the pillow, and awoke the sleeper. After taking his degree at Trinity College, when he was about twenty-two years of age, Grattan was called to the Irish bar, where he attempted to get into practice without much success. Supposing that he could not rise there except by courses to which he would not stoop, he abandoned the law, and betook himself to politics, after acquiring some notoriety by his early publications. He was soon returned to the Irish parliament, and now he has reached his fit arena. He has had difficulties to contend with, but many ENTERS PARLIAMENT. 339 of them are mastered, and he will soon be heard of as one of the most brilliant and resistless of Irishmen. In that great drama, which is so often a tragedy, Grattan is to be one of the prime actors. When he thus entered upon public life, the condition of Ireland was abject. By numerous restrictions, and much unwise legislation, the English parliament had cramped the energies of the Irish nation. Disaffection was chronic, and not causeless. The Irish parliament could not originate laws for the country ; the decisions of the judges there were not final ; it was only like a province of England ; and London was, in truth, in everything supreme. Now, in the eyes of an Irish patriot, this was not merely humiliation; it was bondage, and " discontent, bankruptcy, and wretched- ness," one has said, " covered the face of the country." It was in that crisis of affairs that Grattan passed up to the parliament of Ireland ; and he entered it with a heart all a-flame to yield it some relief. He was, however, not merely a patriot, for the patriotism of many disappears in vapour of smoke; he was a statesman also, and saw the real remedy for his country's sufferings. He traced them up to the restrictions which pressed upon her commerce, and injured her in other ways ; and, in the face of many obstacles, he boldly and wisely strove to rouse his countrymen to at- tempt to remove what cramped them. He had British ascend- ency to confront. He had crowds of place-men to oppose. He had the power of British gold to withstand ; but he rose superior to them all, and so nobly pled for the Irish claims that they were conceded in spite of a hundred prejudices. He thus became the first man known in history to have freed a country from foreign domination, not by arms and blood- shed, but by wisdom, and energy; by ardour which would not be damped, and power which could not brook to be in bondage to the wrong. None of the illustrious men of Ireland, not 340 A KING OF MEN. even Wellington and Burke, have acquired a name so hon- oured, in this respect, as that of Henry Grattan. As already noticed, it is to be regretted that the name of hero is con- fined mainly to the battle-field, for there have been heroes greater far than kings and captains. There have been heroes in the dungeon. There have been heroes at the stake. There have been heroes on the bed of languishing in the grasp of death. There have been heroes in the cottage,, and heroes in the forum : " The applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise; To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes." Grattan belonged to that class, and, with concentrated energy strove to do his life-work to lift man up from degradation, and place him in a fairer field. From this time, this bold and intrepid, but wise and far- seeing man, became the idol of Ireland. With indefatigable assiduity he wrought for her welfare, and though we may not approve of all his proposals, it is certain that no patriot- ism ever was more ardent, no energies ever were more concentrated, and no will more indomitable than those of Grattan in seeking his country's welfare. By efforts which surprise us, by an eloquence which was peculiarly his own, and by powers higher than fall to the lot of most men, he persuaded the Irish parliament to declare that " none but the king, lords, and commons of Ireland could make laws to bind her." It proved in the end to be an empty resolution; but the principle which it embodied had truth and wisdom in it, and Grattan's whole soul was thrown into that enter- prise. He had so far achieved his country's independence by his individual exertions. He had no wealth to fascinate, no rank to dazzle ; it was the combination of love to his country with lofty powers which made him what he was ; and the legislature showed its estimate of his deeds by resolving ANOTHER IDOL PUT DOWN. 341 that he should receive an estate worth 100,000 as his reward. At the express request of his friends, this sum was reduced to .50,000 and that was the price which a people struggling for a measure of freedom, spontaneously paid to him who secured it. The words of the grant declared that it was " a testimony of national gratitude for great national services ;" and that was surely a lofty position to be held, in comparative youth, by one who recently before had been struggling with something akin to poverty. But the tide turned. Encouraged by their success, the Irish people, or some of their friends, brought forward views with which Grattan could not sympathize ; and after resisting till his popularity had waned, he retired for a short time from the fruitless strife, though what Lord Brougham calls G rattan's "awful energies" had been hurled, without being exhausted, against those who tried to push victory to excess. Yet in 1 785, when new dangers appeared, he was once more all that he had ever been. Firmly, heroically, and successfully he resisted attempts to re-impose restrictions, or cripple his country. Hence his popularity returned; and though he was hated and calumniated by some, his influence as an orator, and his counsels as a statesman, did much to elevate Ireland from the depths into which it had sunk : he be- gan a movement which had long been retarded, but which must sooner or later be matured. Fresh honours flowed in upon him. He was chosen member, first for Dublin, and subsequently for Wicklow the latter, that he might oppose the union of England and Ireland, which was then projected, an opposition which we, judging after the event, can- not but pronounce unworthy of one who has been called by high authority the founder of the liberties of his country, her emancipator from fetters which had cramped her for three centuries before. It was the error of his life, and showed, as patriotism has sometimes done, that he loved his (20) 28 342 A POBTKAIT. country not always wisely though always welL Referring to his early efforts to elevate Ireland, and contrasting their success with what he deemed the disaster of the Union, he sorrowfully said of his country's independence, " I sat by its cradle : I followed its hearse." When the Union was consummated, a right measure effected by iniquitous means by bribery, by coronets, and places Grattan became a member of the British House of Commons, and there his patriotism and his powers were as signal as ever. His genius was not local; it was for all places ; it was for man, and not merely for Irishmen : and he rose to a position in England scarcely inferior to that which he had held in Ireland. And here we should not fail to mark the personal as well as the public difficulties with which he had to contend, ere he could command, and sway, and fulmine as he did. Somewhat in a tone of caricature, he has been described as a little ungainly man, oddly com- pacted, with a large head, and awkward gestures, rolling like a mandarin, and sawing the air with his whole body from head to foot as he spoke. But in spite of these obstacles, he took his place among the foremost, and he kept it. It is one of the most signal triumphs of mind over body, to hear it said of that ungainly man, that in his orations there was a grandeur which both enforced reverence and elicited admiration. He shed a light which irradiated without dazz- lingwhich both aided the judgment and delighted the imagination. At one time his argument was so concentrated and pungent that it compelled conviction ; at another, his style was diffuse, lofty, and magnificent, bending the will, working on the fancy, filling the understanding. His power at times was irresistible ; venality quailed before him, and "place, pension, and peerage, had but a feeble hold even of the most degenerate," when Grattan assailed them. He had early difficulties to encounter and surmount; but what were HOME VIRTUES. 343 these compared with the obstacle to greatness which existed in Grattan's person, voice, and gesture ? They were all for- gotten, however, as soon as his pungent sayings, his allitera- tions, and epigrammatic point had taken possession of his hearers. Now pathos, anon sarcasm at one time scathing invective, at another gentle persuasion all characterized this gifted man. Like his countryman Burke, Grattan took alarm at the ravages of the French Revolution, and became more and more cautious as he advanced in days. To the last, how- ever, he maintained an indomitable ardour in regard to all that he deemed good and right ; and near the close of his career once exclaimed, " I should be happy to die in the discharge of my duty." In private life, it is said, he was characterized by an exact discharge of all the domestic virtues, while there was a charm in his society which was, no doubt, one secret of his power. He was one of the few public men, one who knew him well has said, whose private virtues were followed by public fame, or could be cited as examples to those who would follow in his public steps. This hero of patriotism in public was a model of virtue in private, while the native grandeur of his soul shed an influ- ence like sunshine upon those who dwelt near him. Grattan's death took place on the 14th of May 1820, when he was seventy years of age. It was hastened, perhaps, by his anxiety to be in his place in parliament. His last words, we are told, were a prayer for the interests of Great Britain and Ireland that they might be for ever united in the bonds of affection. There might be some extravagance in the lines which were quoted in parliament when his eulogy was pronounced : " Ne'er to those chambers where the mighty rest, Since their foundation, came a nobler guest; Nor ever to the bowers of bliss conveyed A purer spirit, or a holier shade," 344 PRINCIPLE ILLUSTRATED. but it is unquestionable, that among men who have given their days and their nights to the welfare of their country, few have gone down to the grave more sincerely honoured than Henry Grattan. It was a graceful thing when the great and the gifted of Britain united to solicit that his remains might be buried in Westminster Abbey, beside the dust of kindred greatness " a place where he would not have been unwilling to lie by the side of his illustrious fellow- labourers in the cause of freedom." And such is an outline of the life of Grattan. It is intro- duced, like the rest, not to supply a narrative of incidents, but to illustrate a principle. And here is one who started in life with difficulty upon difficulty to block up his path. After surmounting the hindrances which beset him in his early years, he had to hover for three or four more about the courts of law unemployed, and, therefore, unfed. Then, when he actually entered upon public life, he saw injury heaped upon injury to the land of his birth, and the pride and power of the British people were sure to oppose the man who dared to assail a state of matters which was hoary with the growth of generations. But, undaunted by all, that youth for he was still but a youth launched his whole energies against the degradation of his country. He chose his path ; he walked fearlessly there, and long ere he had reached the end, the pile which he assailed had melted away before his assaults. It was the triumph of a right choice consistently followed up, and leaving behind it streaks of light to guide those who follow in a path like that which Grattan trod. Yet one thing regarding him is to be deplored. Those who have given us some account of his life have said little, nay nothing, of his religion. Was he one of those who bow before the crucified One, or was his country here so much the object of his engrossing regard, that the better country QUERIES AND THEIR ANSWERS. 345 was not much regarded? Whether was it only the wisdom of earth or that of heaven which presided in his lofty soul? If the latter, then had he gifts before which even his other powers grow pale; if only the former, what were all his achievements but shadows and delusions in the high reckon- ing of eternity? The balance of the sanctuary who can stand that test? Only they who have appealed to the Great Surety, or consulted the Great Counsellor, or sat down to learn the divine Wisdom. VIII. DANIEL WEBSTER 1782-1852. " He feared not In his flower of days, When strong to stem the torrent's force ; When through the desert's pathless maze His way was like an eagle's coarse! When war was sunshine to his sight, And the wild hurricane delight." HEMANS. Encomiums His birth Education His devotedness to study His life-pursuit decided by a casualty Difficulties Studies Becomes a lawyer And mem- ber of Congress-His habits His friendships-His deep sensibilities- Yet perfectly self-contained His doings as a politician Is a candidate for the American President's chair Is rejected His disappointment Webster as an orator His view of slavery His religion His death. ]F we heard of a man who was called at one place " The pride of his country, and the glory of human nature," and at another, " A mighty rock, our only defence against general corruption ;" if we heard it said of him to-day that he is "worthy of the noblest homage which freemen can give or a freeman receive the homage of the heart," and to-morrow, that " a section of America rejoiced in the promise of the youth, and America altogether in the performance of the man ;" if it were proclaimed, amid the plaudits of thousands, that the state is "honoured in a citizen who is received with the acclamations of the world," and that " his country will never forget that his fame has extended her own among the nations of the world;" if we were, moreover, told concerning that man, that " his name was inseparable from that of his country in the records of time and eternity;" if it were assigned as a reason for that LOWLY BIRTH. 347 applause that " he had illustrated the glory of his country," and " had sown the seed of constitutional liberty broadcast over the world;" finally, if we heard it said of any man, he has " a heart large enough to comprehend his whole country, a head wise enough to discern her best interests" with all this before us we could scarcely help desiring to know some- thing more concerning a man so signally honoured. Who was he? What was his training? What were his gifts or his acquirements? How did he reach that position of eminence where millions awarded " the highest honours of the constitution to its ablest defender?" Such reasonable curiosity can be fully gratified in regard to the name now before us, and that gratification may help to augment the wisdom of men. DANIEL WEBSTER, the American statesman, and the sub- ject of the earnest encomiums which have just been quoted, was born in the town of Salisbury, in the county of Mem- mack, New Hampshire, America, on the 18th of January 1782. His mother, as a woman of deep piety, was his first teacher ; his father was a man of singular but quiet energy, and the training of the youthful statesman ,was well fitted to prepare him, at least in some respects, for the work which it fell to his lot to perform. From his mother's lips were first received the vital truths of the Bible ; and the first copy of that book ever owned by Webster was her gift. Long subsequent to this period, and in the full blaze of his fame, he could say that he had never been able to recollect the time when he could not read the Bible, and supposed that his first schoolmistress began to teach him when he was three or four years of age. His first school-house was built of logs, and stood about half a mile from his father's house, not very far from the beautiful Merrimack. All was then humble enough with this great American statesman. He attended school only during the winter months, and assisted 348 FOUNDATIONS LAID. his father in the business of his farm and his mill as soon as he had strength for doing so. He was, however, the brightest boy at school ; and when the tempting reward of a knife was promised to the scholar who committed to memory the greatest number of verses from the Bible, Daniel came with whole chapters, which the master could not find time to hear him repeat in full The boy secured the knife, and his delighted teacher subsequently told the father of that child that " he would do God's work injustice" if gifts so promising were not nurtured at college. But that consummation was not to be very soon realized. For some time Daniel had to assist his father at a saw- mill; but so resolute was he in acquiring knowledge and training the mind while toiling with the body, that the operations at the mill were systematically interspersed with studies well fitted to form and to brace the embryo patriot for his great life-work. The saw took about ten minutes to cleave a log, and young Webster, after setting the mill in motion, learned to fill up these ten minutes with reading. As a patriot, a statesman, an orator, and a scholar, he be- came famous, and was called the greatest intellectual charac- ter of his country ; and we see where he laid the foundation of kis greatness by persistent and invincible ardour even in early boyhood. That magnanimous kindliness and ten- derness of heart, which entered so largely into his character, was fostered amid such scenes ; and of all the men whose memories we are fain to embalm, he ranks among the least indebted to casualty, and the most to indefatigable earnest- ness, for the position to which he eventually rose. Amid the forest wilds of America his perseverance laid the foundation of power, of learning, of fame, and of goodness. A simple incident which happened about this period de- rided his life-pursuit. He discovered a copy of the " Con- stitution of the United States," as drawn up by some of her HOME SCENES. 349 ablest statesmen. It was printed upon a cotton handker- chief which he purchased in a country store with what was then his all, and which amounted to twenty-five cents. He was about eight years of age when that took place, and learned then, for the first time, either that there were United States, or that they had a Constitution. From this date, or about the year 1790, his path through life was decided, not formally, but really, not by any avowal, but by a fostered predilection. Meanwhile other influences were at work. The father of this New Hampshire boy was strict in his religious opinions and observances, and the son had to conform, sometimes with a grudge at the restraint, but with effects of a vitally beneficial nature to the future patriot. His father then kept a place of entertainment, where teamsters halted to bait, and the attractions of the place were increased by the fact that young Webster often regaled those visitors by his readings. The Psalms of David were his favourite, and there, when only about seven years of age, he first im- parted that pleasure by his oratory which he afterwards carried up to the highest level which an American citizen can reach. To that humble abode Webster once, returned in his declining years, and with streaming eyes descanted on the various events of the home of his youth.* The school which he attended during the winter months, was about three miles from his father's house, and he had often to travel thither through deep snow. At the age of fourteen he attended a somewhat more advanced academy * Webster's own account of his father seems a photograph. " My father died in April 1806. ... I closed his eyes in this very house. He died at the age of sixty-seven, after a life of exertion, toil, and exposure ; a private soldier, an officer, a legislator, a judge, everything that man could be to whom learning had never disclosed her ample page. My first speech at the bar was made when he was on the bench. He never heard me a second time. He had in him what I collect to have been the character of some of the old Puritans. He was deeply religious, but not sonr; om the contrary, good humoured and facetious, Im- parting, even in bis age, a contagious langh ; teeth all as white as alabaster, gentle, soft, playful, and yet having a heart in him that be seemed to have bor- rowed ft om a lion." 350 BRIGHTENING PROSPECTS. for a few months, and his first effort at public speaking there was a failure. He burst into tears : his antipathy to public declamation appeared insurmountable, and neither frowns nor smiles could overcome the reluctance. It was overcome, for when young Webster felt the power which was in him, he boldly employed it. At first, however, he was a failure as a public speaker. With all this, he went forward in the ac- quisition of knowledge, and the bracing of his mind ; and in his fifteenth year he once undertook to repeat five hundred lines of Virgil, if his teacher would consent to listen. About this time the elder Webster disclosed to his son his purpose to send him to college. The talents of the boy, and the counsels of friends pointed out that as a proper path, and that son himself will describe the effects of his father's information. " I could not speak," he says. " How could my father, I thought, with so large a family, and in such narrow circumstances, think of incurring so great an expense for me, and I laid my head on his shoulder and wept." That boy, however, had further difficulties to surmount. He had to leave one of his schools to assist his father in the hay har- vest ; he had, moreover, the hindrance of a slender and sickly constitution ; but the Bible, side by side with some standard authors, had now become his English classics, while Cicero, Virgil, Horace, Demosthenes, and others, were his manuals in ancient literature. It was knowledge pursued under un- usual difficulties ; but in spite of all, acquired to an unusual extent So indomitable and persistent was the boy that in a few months he mastered the difficulties of the Greek tongue, and finally graduated at Dartmouth when he was eighteen years of age. Incidents are recorded which show that during his residence at college he was determined to hold the first place or none. It was at Dartmouth that Webster's patriotism first flashed forth with true American ardour, a harbinger to his whole ENTERS CONGRESS. 351 future career. He had now mastered his boyish aversion to oratory, and on the 4th of July 1800, the twenty-fourth anni- versary of American Independence, he delivered an oration full of patriotic sentiment, manifesting the decided bent of his mind, and deserving a place, in the opinion of some, among the works which he subsequently published. He was then only eighteen years of age. To increase the straitened funds of the family, Daniel Web- ster for some time kept a school at Freyburg, in Maine. His income there, eked out by other means, which were the wages of indomitable industry, enabled him to send his brother, Ebenezer, to college the grand object which he had in view in becoming a schoolmaster. He was, however, all the while prosecuting his studies in law, and in the year 1805, entered on the duties of a legal practitioner at Boston. His familiar title in the county where he resided was " All eyes," and he used them with singular advantage. In Boston, at Ports- mouth, and elsewhere, he continued these pursuits, and he thus early adopted some of the maxims which guided him through life. " There are evils greater than poverty :" " What bread you eat, let it be the bread of independence :" " Live on no man's favour:" "Pursue your profe'ssion :" "Make yourself useful to the world You will have nothing to fear." Such were his convictions, and he embodied them in deeds. One instance of bis generosity is recorded at this period. His father had become embarrassed; the devoted son hastened to liquidate his father's debt, and he did it with a decision like that which signalized him all his days. He resided as a lawyer at Portsmouth for about nine years. It was in the year 1812 that Webster was first elected a member of Congress, and he reached that elevation by his masterly ability in the affairs of his profession. By persis- tent patience first, and then by resistless power, he took up the foremost position in the sphere in which he moved. He 352 DAILY ASSIDUITY. appeared in the majesty of intellectual grandeur, like one who was all might and soul, and poured forth the stores of an opulent mind in a manner which was entirely his own. His words had both weight and fire ; and the contrast is now great between the boy who broke down and wept at his first declamation, and the man, bending opponents to his will by his energy and indomitable zeal The laurel of victory, it has been fondly said, was proffered to him by all, and bound his brow for one exploit till he went forth to another. In his thirtieth year he entered the field of politics, like one who had made up his mind to be decided, firm, and straightforward ; and such was the serenity of this great soul, amid wild commotions, that the enthusiast mistook it for apathy, the fierce for lukewarmness. It was the great calm of profound conviction, borne up by a thorough reliance on the right the right as to time, as to degree, and as to re- sources for the battle of life. From the day on which he threw himself into the political arena, he belonged to the United States, and not to his native county alone. Crowds soon gathered round one who had mastered so many difficulties, and taken his place among the kingly men who rule the spirits whom they are born first to subdue, and then to bind to themselves by the spell of genius. While thus moving upward to a sphere of influence beyond what falls to the lot of most men, we have seen that Webster did not rise without effort, painstaking, and daily, nightly labour. Dependent from the outset on his own exertions, he was at all times a hard working man. And even when he had reached his place of power, his habits 01 persistent assiduity were not abandoned : they were culti- vated perhaps more resolutely than ever. Among the first at the post of duty from day to day, he left nothing undone, from the destruction of all anonymous annoyances, such as public men must often experience, to the answering or pre- THE PATH TO GREATNESS. 353 paration of the most important State Papers. He sometimes kept two persons writing to his dictation in separate apart- ments, he himself walking between them, and imparting his portion to each. He excluded all topics of state from his private intercourse with friends ; but whether as lawyer, as statesman, or diplomatist, Webster allowed nothing to in- terfere with the routine of his public duty. Though guided by lofty genius, he sought no exemption from steadfast system; but wrought as if he had been a mere man of business apprenticed to toil, instead of a soaring and im- perial spirit. Those who knew him best have put it upon record that, " whatever of genius may be awarded to him, it is certain that he was chiefly indebted to his own personal exertions for his commanding position as an orator, a states- man, a jurist, and a man of letters." One of his maxims was, " Nobody knows anything till he has learned it," and he learned ; another was, " Since I know nothing, and have nothing, I must learn and earn," and his life was a comment on his words. Nor can any one who has pondered the story of his life decline to accede to the eulogy pronounced by a friend who survived him : " The record of Daniel Webster's life from the humble roof beneath which he was born, with no inheritance but poverty and an honoured name, up through the arduous path of manhood, which he trod with lion heart and giant step, till they conducted him to the helm of state has been spread throughout the land. Struggling poverty has been cheered afresh ; honest ambition has been kindled; patriotic resolve has been invigorated, while all have mourned." Nor could it be otherwise ; the first man of his country had gained his position by the energy of an iron will, a will which once led him to earn with weary fingers, and amid toils protracted till midnight, the means of educating his brother, as Daniel himself had been educated. 354 FRIENDSHIPS. Another characteristic of this indefatigable patriot was the power with which he linked his friends to him a power, indeed, which resembled fascination. They delight to speak of him as a man of a most noble heart. He was one of the most devoted of friends ; and the result was that some of those who knew him best were ready to die on his behalf. " If I saw a bullet coming to his heart," said one with ardour, " I would jump in its way, and receive it myself." The explanation was his unstinted generosity, as well as his steadfast firmness in friendship. On one occasion he gave an aged man, a friend of his father's, money enough to buy a small farm ; and by that and similar deeds, this man so resolute, yet so gentle, so determined to soar, yet so ready to be humble, earned the strong encomium, " I have yet to learn the name of man, woman, or child who ever knew Daniel Webster and did not love him." In short, some of his own lines were verified in his own history : " We have a page all glowing and all bright, On which our friendships and onr loves to write; That these may never from the soul depart We trust them to the memory of the heart. There is no dimming, no effacement here; Each new pulsation keeps the record clear ; Warm, golden letters all the tablet fill, Nor lose their lustre till the heart stands still." An old soldier of the Revolution once walked fifty miles to see and hear the great statesman, and on the same occa- sion another patriarch tottered towards him, threw his arms around him, and exclaimed, " God bless you ; you are the greatest and the best man in the world !" His presence at his native farm was always a holiday ; and there must have been some peculiar spell about the man whose neighbours in the country sometimes went in thousands to meet him on his return from the capital to his farm : without respect to party, they assembled to do him honour, and met him at a distance of ten miles from his home. The road was literally A CITY OF THE DEAD. 355 lined with women and children assembled to greet him, not merely as a great man, but as a good one. Garlands with- out number were strewed in his way, and more than once his return was a procession, an ovation, prolonged over miles. All this fell to the lot of one who some years before had been weeping, from deep sensibility, over the poverty of his lot ; or struggling with all the energy of a noble mind to surmount the difficulties which crossed the path of himself and of those whom he loved so well. But, amid all this publicity and glare, Webster ever rejoiced in the solitude of his home and the amenities of its friendships, as if he had never known the excitement of one of the loftiest positions to which a subject can climb. The foundation of all these cordial friendships was laid deep in the genial though decided nature of Daniel Webster. He was a man of strong emotion, and profound sensibility, so that " The tear that flows Down Virtue's cheek for mortal woes," was often shed by him. It was his practice annually to carry his children to see their father's humble birth-place, where he loved to dwell on the touching incidents of his youth, and often wept in tenderness amid the well-known scenes. The river and the hills, he said, were as beautiful as ever ; but the graves of his father, his mother, his brothers and sisters, and early friends gave to the whole something of the aspect of a city of the dead. We have seen how he wanted words to tell his father his joy at the intelligence that he was to go to college, and could only weep upon his father's breast; and that incident was one among many similar scenes which mark the life of this self-made man ; self-made, at least, in as far as regards the smiles of great- ness, or the props of affluence. When driving in the neigh- bourhood of his home, the great statesman would often rein 356 MENTAL HABITS. up his horses, when he met a company of children going to school, that he might ask their names, and inquire about their parents. While he did so he thought, perhaps, of the time when he, like one of these children, went to school with his primer in one hand and his dinner in the other. Webster's days and nights, however, were in reality given to his country. " Love your country, your whole country," was the appropriate counsel which he gave appropriate, we mean, in an empire constituted like the United States ; and as he counselled he acted. He was, no doubt, more cautious as a politician than many who had more fire and less fore- sight ; one of his maxims was that " some questions will improve by keeping," and he kept not a few. He was one of those men who can afford to wait, because they have sagacity to forecaste with certainty what the course of events must be. Though bright and happy in the hours when he unbent, it was not difficult to trace in him the effects of the cares and responsibilities of governing the United States; but he was helped to bear up by his thorough independence, his self-possession, and self-reliance. In- deed, so far did he carry that tendency that he resolutely refused to read all reviews upon his works, or strictures upon himself, whether hostile or friendly. He declined even to know what had been said of him, assigning as his reasons that he had done his best through life, and that that consciousness was more consoling than any opinion however favourable, or applause however ardent. Whether he was advocating the integrity of the Union according to his own maxim, " Liberty first, and union afterwards," or both in one, " Liberty and union, now and for ever, one and inseparable," or upholding any of the great republican doc- trines of which he was so zealous an advocate, Webster was alike independent, manly, and resolute, it was a light matter to him to be judged of man's judgment. When he DISAPPOINTMENTS. 357 passed away it was said, that " the great luminary of the bar, the senate, and the council chamber was set for ever ;" and we may add that that luminary was a sun, not a satel- lite it shone in no borrowed lustre. It is well known that this man, so humble in his origin, yet so masterly in his mind, passed through all the grada- tions of rank that are open to an American citizen, up to the right hand of the highest. We have seep when he entered Congress. In 1841 he became Secretary of State, and from that period bore the place in American politics which would be readily conceded, in that ardent country, to one who was deemed and called " the master mind of the world." In his love of freedom, Webster has been likened to Washington, or expressly called his equal in regard to patriotism and true greatness. It is not wonderful, there- fore, that this patriot's friends proposed him as President of the United States. He failed, and felt the failure, but soothed his disappointment by the conviction that no man " could take away from him what he had done for his country." Those who loved and admired him thought that the word President would have dimmed the lustre of the name of Daniel Webster ; and they add, in regard to his dis- appointment, " if we must sorrow that what men expected can never come to pass, let us not weep for him but for our country." Others, however, were of opinion that Webster was " rejected and lost ;" while those who look deeper at the causes of events may see, in that disappointment, the needful antidote administered by the Supreme Wisdom to ward off the danger of too universal a success. This gifted and ambitious man was suffered to take an active part in the government of one of the greatest of the nations. By his bold and manly grasp of American interests, he did much to weld the different states more closely into one. He negotiated, on the part of his country, some of the most in> () 23 358 A CONTRAST. portant treaties which promote the peace and the amity of nations, for example, what is called the Ashburton treaty with Great Britain ; and it would have seemed too much for one mortal, successful as Webster had already been, to be lifted to an official level with princes. That was denied him : his empire was not countries- -it was minds. He was to be trained for a nobler exaltation than a throne. And that this check was needed is manifest from Web- ster's feelings. Some men, far below him in other respects, have stood high above him in regard to their views of this world's rewards. Mountstewart Elphinstone, for example, was offered honour upon honour. He might have been Governor-General of Canada. He was invited to take a place among the peers of Britain. The vice-royalty of India was pressed upon him ; but he smiled them all aside, and acted like one who felt that what men deem the great prizes of life are not worth the sacrifices which they entail. Web- ster's views were less lofty. He lived for action, and panted for the widest possible arena on which to act. Little has yet been said regarding Webster as an orator. It was mainly in that respect, however, that he surpassed his fellows, and mainly by that means was he enabled to ascend to the high position which he held so long. The versatility of his powers was very great, and the mode in which he sometimes employed them was not a little remark- able. He had, on one occasion, spent several hours with his colleagues in adjusting some important questions involving the interests of kingdoms ; and on returning home he spor- tively sallied forth and purchased some eggs, on the prin- ciple of seeing how extremes meet, in regard to occupa- tion as well as in other respects. But there were serious things mixed with his jests; and as an orator Webster stands in the first rank, if not foremost, in the New World. When it was known that he was to speak, the ex- THE POWER OF ELOQUENCE. 359 citement sometimes amounted to a furor, and a hundred dollars have been paid for a ticket of admission to hear him. Two hours before his appearance, on that occasion, he was facetiously amusing his friends by wit somewhat at his own expense. Meanwhile the avenues that led to his arena were blocked up by the crowds pressing for admittance; and when he did appear, it was to rouse, to agitate, and convulse. He felt what he said in his inmost soul, and his words were winged with fire, even while they were massively powerful, and connected by a logic which tolerated no breaks in the chain. In some cases, his appeals were based upon Scrip- tural topics. One, for example, of a memorable kind, was fetched from the Saviour's injunction to let little children come to him, instead of repelling them from his presence. It was an argument for Christian education in the very highest sense. " Suffer little children to come unto me," the orator repeated, " unto Me. He did not send them first for lessons in morals to the schools of the Pharisees, or to the unbelieving Sadducees He opened up at once to the youthful mind the everlasting fountain of living waters, the only source of eternal truth ' Suffer little children to come unto Me.' And that injunction is of perpetual obliga- tion ; it addresses itself to-day with the same earnestness and the same authority which attended its first utterance to the Christian world. It is of force everywhere, and at all times. It extends to the ends of the earth ; it will reach to the end of time, always and everywhere sounding in the ears of men with an emphasis which nothing can weaken, and with an authority which nothing can supersede, ' Suffer little children to come unto Me.' " Such sentiments uttered, as Webster did, with trembling lips, with expanding nostrils, with brow wet with the starting perspiration, and with a voice varying every moment with the various emotion, easily explain not merely why the senate-chamber was 360 WEBSTER'S SPEECHES. thronged when he spoke on great occasions, but why all the passages leading to it, the Rotunda of the Capitol, and even the avenues of the city were alive with crowds eager for admittance, as long as admittance was possible. At other times, however, this pupil of Cicero, and Demos- thenes, for he had studied them both, though neither of them was his model, was calm, logical, and incisive, but never personal.* Earnest, thoughtful, weighty, wise, his oratory was then signalized by massive truth rather than by flashing brilliance ; but still it was fitted to suggest the figure which has been employed to describe him that of a Corinthian pillar, with its graceful shaft, and yet more graceful capital At all times, however, Daniel Webster took full possession of his audience ; he could " lift the soul as with the swell of a pealing organ, or stir the blood with the tones of a clarion in the inmost chambers of the heart." His delight, it will readily be believed, was in grand topics, such as could fill and more than fill, his own capacious soul. The anniversary of American Independence was a special favourite. The landing of the Pilgrim Fathers at "The Rock" was another. The laying of the foundation stone of a monument to commemorate the first victory gained by the Americans in the war of the Revolution was a third ; and it has been said that the oration which Web- ster delivered on that occasion, as well as that which he pronounced at the completion of the monument, will endure long after the pile itself shall have crumbled into ruins. The founders of American freedom, the Constitution of the United States, and similar topics drew forth his mightiest efforts, or gave occasion to his most signal displays of oratorical power ; and in tracing his triumphant march in * " I wish your friendly adrice," one friend remarked to another, " for I am in trouble." " What is it?" was the inquiry; and the information was, "I have a lawsuit, and Webster is opposed to me. What should I do?" The comfort was American, " Send to Sm> ma and import a young earthquake." BEREAVEMENT AND ITS EFFECTS. 361 subjugating the minds of men, one is evermore recalled to the difference between that result and his assisting his father at the mill, or delighting the teamsters in the hostelry by reciting the Psalms of David. It is a noble illustration of the effects of manly decision a right choice early made, and through life tenaciously followed out. Yet amid all this, we cannot but regret that he did not strike a bolder note against the national blot of slavery. His maxim was that every state should be left to decide that question for itself, and that was a corollary from his other life-long con- viction that the Union was to be preserved by all means, and at all hazards. Had he, however, in his own majestic way, moved in advance of his contemporaries, in regard to an institution which must fall as surely as time rolls on, Webster would have been yet more illustrious, and yet more surely the glory of his country. But one aspect of this man's character remains to be con- sidered. As an improver of his estates much might be said concerning him. For example, on one of these, he planted one hundred thousand forest trees with his own hand. His liberality also might have deserved a notice. While he earned enough to have made a dozen men rich, he spent it liberally, and gave to the poor by hundreds and thousands. His last fee for a legal argument was eleven thousand dollars ; and that repeated from day to day might speedily have made him a Croesus, had he been a miser. His intense and glowing admiration of nature in all its moods and aspects, from the rising of the sun down to the tiniest object, was another peculiarity of his character. But all pales before what is said of his religion.* He had two children, Julia and Edward ; he lost them both ; and those who were permitted to see him in his most retired and confiding moments, tell us that from that date he was a changed man. * See "The Private Life of Daniel Webster," jvwim. 362 THE BIBLE ITS POWER. But even in early life he had been impressed by the truth and it appears to have exercised a guiding power in his great career. He became a member of a Christian Church in the early prime of his days. His mother's lessons and his father's example never were forgotten nay, habitu- ally he bore about with him the thought of a world to come. " When you look," he would write to a friend, " upon the graves of my family, remember that he who is the author of this letter must soon follow them to another world." His attachment to the Bible was very marked : he loved it ; he read it in his family ; he made short extempore sermons of great power and eloquence. He never travelled without the sacred volume as his companion ; and the story of the Saviour, or the prophecies of Isaiah never seemed so eloquent to his friends as when coming from his lips. He habitually spoke with admiring fervour regarding these writings, and, without hearing him, it is said, it were diffi- cult to comprehend " how much light he could throw upon a difficult text, how much beauty lend to expressions that would escape all but the eye of genius, what new vigour he could give to the most earnest thought, and what elevation even to sublimity." " It would be impossible," one has said, " for any one to listen for half an hour to one of his disserta- tions on the Scriptures, and not believe either in their inspiration or in his." The eloquence and the sacredness of the Bible were both deeply felt by Webster ; and so predomi- nant was the latter that neither in public nor in private did any irreverent allusion to the contents of the Book which he deemed so holy ever escape from his lips. The deep low tones in which he sometimes repeated portions of the word of God, amid the silence of the night or under the shadow of the trees which surrounded his country abode, evoked feelings of deep solemnity in the minds of his friends, so that some of them do not hesitate to say that "THE BOOK." 363 no man whom they ever knew appeared to understand or appreciate the Scriptures so well " This is the book," was the exclamation of one who had learning enough to compare it with the Iliad, the Odyssey, and other productions of the least mortal minds ; and in that book he found not merely poetry to admire but theology to believe. "The plan of man's salvation through the atonement of Christ," was one of his great truths, and he used the appointed means for deepening and extending his knowledge. At one period of his life he spent his summer months in Dorchester; and when he first sojourned there, he waited on the minister to intimate that he had become one of his parishioners, adding that he was not to be one of the fashionable people who resorted to the place, but meant to be in his pew both in the morning and afternoon. Nor was such a proceeding strange in one who could say, "I have read through the entire Bible many times. I now make a practice to go through it once a year. It is the book of all others for lawyers as well as for divines, and I pity the man who cannot find in it a rich supply of thought, and of rules for his conduct. It fits man for life, it prepares him for death." But the incidents in Webster's life, which manifest his love and reverence for the Bible, are more than can be recounted here. His belief in the efficacy of prayer, in the great atonement, as already mentioned, and kindred doctrines, are specially described ; and the influence which the truth exerted on his life was not less remarked. He never sat down to food with his family without imploring a blessing ; and as he had become a professed member of the Christian Church while yet a lad at college, he continued a communicant till his closing day. The following sentiment is not altogether correct, but it at least shows the admira- tion in which Webster was held. " One of the most impres- 364 TRUTH ASCENDANT. sive scenes I ever witnessed was to see him in full view of the Capitol, the principal theatre of his exploits .... par- taking of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. That spec- tacle and the grandeur of his death are to me more eloquent than a thousand sermons from mortal lips." " Neither in his letters nor his conversation," said another, " have I ever known him to express an impure thought, an immoral sentiment, or use profane language." To say the least, the one of these extracts is in beautiful consistency with the other. Together, they tell what a Christian ought to be. And is not this man's life another model a model not merely as to the irrepressible energy with which he pressed on and up as regards this life, but, moreover, in his view of the life to come? He had a vast and capacious soul : he could grasp the most complicated of questions and analyze them into simplicity, and what was the most befitting study for a mind so lofty? How could its aspira- tions best be met, its capacity filled and satisfied to the uttermost ? By what, if not with the Infinite, the Eternal, the Omnipotent, the Omniscient ? By what, if not with the wisdom which comes from above, and the truths which inspiration has revealed to guide us back to God? Such at least were the truths, and such was the One, with whom Daniel Webster held daily communion ; and were his ex- ample habitually followed by the rulers of nations, the people would be rescued from the despotism or the blunders of little men. The Eternal would get his place, the first and the highest, and all else would fall into order the most complete, as beauty arose out of chaos when Omnipotence said " Be." But Webster is now in his seventy-first year. He has reached the allotted term of mortal existence, and must pass away alike from the frowns and the applause of mortals. On the morning of Sabbath, the 24th of October 1852, he THE GRAVE. 365 was summoned away. Though much enfeebled, his mind was calm, and he died with the confidence of a little child, repos- ing on the mercy of his God as revealed in the Saviour. Among his last utterances was this, " Heavenly Father, forgive my sins, and -welcome me to thyself through Christ Jesus." His very last words were, "I still live," and his loving, weeping friends tools them up as a prediction of that immor- tality on which he was about to enter. Through life he had hallowed the Sabbath, and he died upon it. The autumn was his favourite season, and he passed away amid its mel- low glories, after affectionately and solemnly taking leave of his weeping wife, children, kindred, and friends, down to the humblest members of his household. His death, it is supposed, was hastened by injuries received by the breaking down of his carriage : but it did not find him unprepared. Long years before, he had erected his own tomb ; and there, on a plain marble slab over the door, the visitor reads the simple inscription gaitiel ^lebster. Some ten thousand friends, countrymen, and lovers, helped to lay him there, and one of the orations pronounced in connection with his departure was thus touchingly closed : "The clasped hands, the dying prayers, oh, my fellow- citizens, this is a consummation over which tears of pious sympathy will be shed, after the glories of the forum and the senate are forgotten." The heart of America throbbed with grief at the tomb of Daniel Webster, but posterity has weighty lessons there to learn. When " He passed through glory's morning gate, And walked in paradise," he left behind him a thousand lights burning to guide those who shall come after. See how independent man is of posi- 366 A. PROTEST. tion; he can "make his life sublime" if his God be his counsellor and truth his guide. Poverty need not repress : the loftiest heights to which man's mind can soar may be won, if only we follow where wisdom leads and act on the maxim which even heathenism deemed sage, "The gods grant nothing to mortals without labour." Most assiduously did Daniel Webster labour all the days of his life : his early decision was on the side of the good and the pure, in one word, the Christian, and he embodied that decision in a life-long contest with evil, a life-long pur- suit of what he reckoned worthy of an immortal mind. He had his faults : he was human ; but his life is a lasting protest against the grovelling grossness of many a statesman in his own and other lands. IX. SILVIO PELLICO. 1789-1864. " A gentle knight was pricking on the plalne, Ycladd in mightie armes, and sUver shielde, Wherein old dints of deepe wonndes did remaine The cruel marks of many a bloody fielde ; Yet armes till that time did he neyer wielde. His angry steede did chide his foming bitt, And much disdayning to the cnrbe to yielde; Full jolly knight he seemed, and faire did sitt, As one for knightly guists and fierce encounters fitt." SPKNCKR. Italy The first Bonaparte Action and reaction Result* Pellico's birth- Early training His love of country Arrested Imprisoned Milan Yeiiice - Spielberg-Hls sufferings there-And studies-Set free in 1830-Retires to Turin His works His death. JHE reign of the first Bonaparte in Italy introduced many changes there, and fostered the hopes of many more. The priestly party was weakened, and in some places suppressed. A measure of liberty was enjoyed, and the people felt their freedom reviving as the sunshine of spring and summer revive and beautify the earth. But when Bonaparte fell, a reaction speedily began. Old despotisms were restored, and the Italians were trodden down as before. Many of them, however, could ill brook such treatment accustomed as they had been to a measure of liberty, they could not silently submit to repression. The restoration of the priests, the inquisition, espionage, and all the adjuncts of a galling bondage, goaded men to cherish violent opinions, and some to do violent deeds. Dungeons, disease and death were the result to many, whose offence 368 EARLY TRAINING. began in deep love to their native country, that country which long centuries of dreary and crushing oppression has only rendered more dear to the hearts of millions. These events and their attendant sufferings occasioned some of the most resolute displays of patriotism which the history of the world supplies. Never was unflinching deci- sion on the one hand, or heroic endurance on the other, more signal than in the case of some of those who were immured in the dungeons of San Michele, of Venice, or of Spielberg, and never was blood more freely shed than by those who died on the scaffold, because they loved Italy, not wisely, but too well. We are now to contemplate some incidents in the life of one of these sufferers, not in a detailed biography, but only to mark how bold was his decision, how nobly unbending his spirit, and how profound were his sorrows for his country's sake. SILVIO PELLICO, to whom we refer, has said that " both religion and philosophy require calmness of judgment com- bined with energy of will, and that without such a union there can be no .... dignity of character, and no sound principles of human action." It will soon appear whether his life corresponded to his convictions. He was born at Saluzzo in Piedmont in the year 1789. His father was in easy circumstances, and the training of the son was well fitted to develop the gifts which he pos- sessed. In Turin, at Lyons, and at Milan, acquirements were made or pursuits engaged in which rendered Pellico an accomplished man, a devotee to literature, and passionately enamoured of the beautiful land of his birth. He associated with some of the most distinguished men of modern Italy, and became the author of some productions which rendered him an idol to many in that land. In the house of Count Porro of Milan, where the youth resided, he became ac- quainted with some of the most eminent men of his age. PRISON CONSOLATIONS. 369 Brougham, Hobhouse, Byron, Madame de Stael, Von Schlegel, and others were of the number, and it was by associating with such personages that his love of country was developed and matured. But Pellico could not look on the degradation of his country and the bondage of his countrymen without an effort to break their chains. He attempted it ; but only to rivet chains upon himself. By his publications he strove to rouse and combine the Italians ; and about the year 1820 became a member of a revolutionary society, from which date his manifold sorrows began. He conspired to improve the political condition of his country, when he saw it trodden down by an oppressive power, and while we may not approve of the measures thus employed, we can at least explain how natural they were in a mind so devoted as Silvio Pellico to his native land, while it groaned beneath a yoke which patriotism could not brook. On the 15th of October 1820 he was arrested for political offences, and confined in the cells of Santa Margherita at Milan. There his woes commenced. "Dungeons here, dungeons there," he says, dungeons to the right, and dun- geons to the left, above, below, and opposite, everywhere met his eye. Moreover, the scaffold appeared in the gloomy distance, and, in the course of a few hours, he sank from the brightness of hope to the darkness of a solitary, uncheered cell. The remembrance of father, mother, brothers, and sisters, whom he loved with the vehemence of Italian passion, deep- ened the grief of the prisoner, and at the thought of them " he wept like a child." He knew, however, the real fountain of solace, and it is a touching record to hear him say that in his deep distress on account of those whom he loved, he hoped they would be consoled by Him who enabled a mother to follow her son to the Mount of Golgotha, Him, tho Friend of the unhappy, the Friend of man. It was then, he 370 FROM PRISON TO PRISON. says, that the power of religion was first felt in the heart ; and that, amid many changes, all of them saddening, bore him up with more than human strength. He was permitted to retain his Bible in the house of his bondage, and it ap- pears to have done its work in a soul which could not have rested satisfied with less than eternal truth. Pellico was examined again and again at Milan, and again and again he needed all the fortitude which patriotism and the truth can supply. He had written a note in his blood, for he had no other ink, to one of his fellow prisoners. It was a mere salutation, but it was produced as an evidence of crime ; and that is an early specimen of his galling treat- ment. On other occasions, some of his judges treated him with ungenerous or malignant irony; but what could he expect when Count Porro himself a devotee to all that was truly Italian was obliged to flee, and was in absence twice condemned to death ! It is sickening to have to trace our accomplished sufferer from prison to prison, and from cell to cell Stronghold after stronghold became his abode ; and yet, for the most part, he evinced a beautiful and consistent resignation. From the first he felt assured that Austria would make some fearful examples among Pellico's friends, and that he himself must either die beneath her vengeance, or be subject to a long imprisonment. His parting with his father, who visited him in prison after his seizure, was agony to his affectionate soul ; but still the love of country was ascendant there, and though at times he could not enjoy even the sad relief of a tear, he bore up the thought of Italy free was new life to the prisoner and he prepared to face death on the scaffold, or any form of martyrdom, "with a blessing on his lips," even for those who sent him thither. He strove to fami- liarize his mind with separation from those whom he loved with the approach of the executioner, and all the dread CELESTIAL TRUTHS : EARTHLY WOES. 371 insignia of a public death meant to be one of shame and by all this, to accustom his nerves to bear the sudden or fearful shocks which he foresaw before him. To crown his efforts, he from time to time quoted the model of Him who was " nobly pacific, both with regard to Himself and others, and whom we are all bound to imitate." In truth, the story of this man's prison woes, of his anguish, and yet of his strong consolations, constitutes one of the most remarkable narratives of our times. The blending of celestial truth with earthly woes is beautiful. In the month of February 1821, Pellico was transferred from Milan to the prisons of Venice ; and there new forms of trial awaited him. " The Leads," a portion of the prison attached to the palace of the Doge, in that city, became his dreary abode ; aiid though he was able to mitigate the horrors of the place, as perhaps the gay and elastic mind of an Italian alone could do, it was still one of uttermost misery. Stifling heat, swarms of insects, disease, and an- noyances which strained his endurance to the full, there rewarded his love for Italy. He had now, moreover, to confront the terrors of a state trial, where, for successive hours, and from day to day, he was harassed and excited far beyond mortal patience. The dread of undesignedly implicating others, or of being compromised by them ; the conduct of one of his judges; and, in truth, his whole position, drove him to the verge of madness. He ingenu- ously says that he would have taken his own life, had not the voice of religion and the thought of his parents held back his hands. For a time he had neglected his Bible, amid the agitating scenes of his lot ; but he resumed it now he wiped away the dust he read what the Saviour says about the offences which must come, and Pellico was soothed once more by the truth. " I placed the Bible upon a chair," he records, " and falling upon my knees, I burst into tears 372 AN ANTIDOTE TO MADNESS. of remorse I, who ever found it so difficult to shed even a tear I rose with renewed confidence that God had not abandoned me It was then that my misfortunes the horror of my continued examinations, and the probable death which awaited me appeared of little account " And that is the secret of the power which nerved him to greatness, and fitted him to endure. These ordeals were renewed every two or three days, by the Special Commission which tried Pellico at Venice. He bore up as best he could, and " left the rest to the will of God." But the stifling air of the place in which he was entombed depressed him to the verge of insanity, till at last he was tempted once more to think of self-destruction. It is one of the most melancholy records of human woe. A mind of a high order, and of exquisite culture, actuated by profound emotions and lofty principle, was goaded, chafed, harassed, till reason trembled on its throne. Be- sides his Bible, however, Pellico had other sources of solace. In one of his prisons, where he was allowed the use of paper and ink, he composed some of his works, all thoroughly Italian in their cast of thought, and pleasing rather than powerful in their tone. He also sketched several tragedies, and other productions, among which was a poem on the Lombard League, and another on Christopher Columbus. Standing, as he felt he stood, on the verge of death, with a fatal decree ready to sweep him into the grave, he had self-possession enough to persist in his studies it was his antidote to madness : and amid employments such as these he could exclaim, " blessed solitude ! how much holier and better art thou than harsh and undignified asso- ciation with the living ! " In " The Leads " he had mitigated the monotony of his cell by feeding, and all but domesticat- ing, some ants and a spider ; and when he was abruptly summoned to leave that abode, he felt his separation from " THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS." 373 these creatures of his care almost like a grief. A visit to these " Leads " has become a pilgrimage in our day. In his new cell, this lonely, persecuted man had oppor- tunities of once more holding communion with his fellow- men at least, he could behold their countenances. Such, however, were the restrictions upon all personal intercourse that one of his keepers, who somewhat leniently indulged him, was bastinadoed for the crime ; and his screams agonized Pellico more than his own personal endurance. At length his accumulated trials drove him to actual delirium. Phantoms haunted him. Sleep forsook him he lost his reason, and in utter unconsciousness attempted self-destruc- tion. In this horrible condition, he was only so lucid as to repeat the words, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" and though such an application of the cry may startle us, that sentiment alone could fathom the depths of this agonized sufferer's woes. In his frenzy, he at other times challenged the justice of providence ; and though he dismissed such thoughts as insane, and deplored them as a sin, they prove to the letter how surely oppression drives a wise man mad. In the whole range of human sufferings, few more afi'ect- ing than those of Silvio Pellico at this juncture are on record. It was a crisis under which flesh and blood must have sunk. Nor was he soothed when he learned that one of his companion patriots had been made to pass " the Bridge of Sighs," at Venice the prelude to his death. Sentence had been pronounced on him and some others, so that the cause of Italian patriotism seemed likely to be quenched in the blood of the sons of Italy. The sentences of some who were condemned to die were commuted into long imprisonment ; but even that was like a death-blow to their cause, as it added new miseries to former woe. Amid these disasters the mind of Pellico, goaded first to unnatural effort, and then sinking into weakness, was agi- (20) 24 374 ELLICO S DOOM. tated beyond what calmer minds can comprehend. Again and again did the thought of avoiding the scaffold by suicide occur to him, but again and again did he spurn it away as a base temptation; and his governing con- sideration, while death seemed near, was " how to die like a Christian." Even when all hope of escaping the scaffold had faded from his mind, he resolutely determined to " bear his sentence with calm dignity, and to bless the name of the Lord." He felt that the question of his country's free- dom was only one of time. Though many dreary years of bondage under a foreign yoke might be before it, the on- ward movement of providence, whose wheels are never reversed, was sure to bring about the set time ; and even death upon the scaffold, for such a man as Pellico, would only hasten the emancipation. But his time had not yet arrived; and on the llth of February 1822, he was removed from the prison of Venice to that of the island San Michele, in the immediate vicinity. He had already been hurled from the summit of high hopes into a deep abyss of wretchedness; but there was a lower deep before him, as he was dragged from dungeon to dun- geon, with death or chains apparently at hand. Scarcely had he reached his new dungeon, when he received an accession to his sorrow by hearing of the death of one of his compatriots, who had sunk into the grave amid the agonies of his imprisonment. On the 21st of February Pellico's own doom was decided: the Special Commission found him guilty. He was condemned to death, but the Emperor had commuted the sentence into fifteen years of hard imprison- ment in the fortress of Spielberg. * " The will of God be * Hard Imprisonment is a technical phrase. The Carcere duro implied that the person condemned to it should have his leg* ironed ; be fed daily with warm food, but no meat; his bed was bare boards; and he was forbidden to converse with any but the officials. Such was the Austrian award to Italian patriotism - the Austrian attempt to quench, it. SENTENCE COMMUTED. 375 done," was Pellico's reply when the inquisitor had finished his sentence. Some of the judges seemed compassionate, but one among them treated his victim with an inso- lence which stung and unmanned the sufferer. A tide of violent passion swept through his soul ; and they who know the Italian temperament will understand what that implies. His head burned ; his heart bled ; he felt that political en- mities had given additional severity to his sentence, and he was for a while like a deserted vessel drifting before the tempest, knowing of no harbour, and scarcely cherishing any hope. But the trials which assailed Pellico at this stage were not nearly exhausted. It was part of his sentence that he should hear it upon the scaffold where he was to have died but for the clemency of the Emperor. That formality could not be dispensed with ; and he was rowed back from San Michele to Venice, there in public, and surrounded by armed soldiers, and cannons ready to be discharged in the event of commotion, to hear the sentence read. Handcuffed like the vilest criminal, he and a companion passed through that ordeal of shame. As the words, " condemned to death," were pronounced, a general murmur of compassion ran through the crowd ; and a fresh murmur arose when the commutation into fifteen years of imprisonment was pro- claimed. Have the bloody fields of Magenta and Solferino any connection with these and similar scenes ? Who bears their shame Austria, or the memory of Pellico ? the most tyrannical of all the modern governments, or its victim so ruthlessly oppressed ? Yet he clung to his country the more for its deep degradation. It haunted him by night and by day, and he was nerved calmly but resolutely to brave the utmost that despotism could do on that country's behalf. He spoke no word of reproach he stifled his emotions, and tried to leave his cause before the Eternal. 376 SPIELBERG. In terms of his sentence, Pellico was now removed to Spielberg, near Brunn, the capital of Moravia, and not far from the field of Austerlitz. His journey thither was one of much bodily suffering, from his chains and disease ; but an ovation as far as men durst manifest their feelings. Arrived at his destination, a gloomy and partially ruined castle, he and a companion in tribulation were confined in two dismal subterranean dungeons he says, "entombed alive." He had travelled, we have just seen, in chains from Venice to Spielberg ; and prison chains were now fastened on his limbs, and riveted on an anvil by a blacksmith re- tained for the purpose. In discharging that odious duty, the man dropped some words of commiseration in German, and when he discovered that the prisoner understood him, the smith stood aghast, lest he had been detected in showing sympathy. The jailer was sworn to treat all prisoners with equal severity. " I am bound," he said, " to treat all the prisoners alike no indulgence ; no permission to re- lent, to soften the sternest orders, in particular as regards prisoners of state." And such was the new abode into which an odious system thrust this Italian. Here, then, is the devotee of liberty imprisoned amid Austrian rigours, and in the hands of men sworn to be sternly severe. For fifteen years he was doomed to that treatment. Not even a straw bed could be conceded, until the doctor ordered it in the event of disease. The officials were " hard as steel " in the discharge of duty ; and if we except the dungeons of the Inquisition, and the atrocities which were perpetrated there, no more signal display of cruelty could be made than in the case of this Austrian state prisoner. On his first night at Spielberg, he threw himself on his board-bed "less at enmity with mankind, and less alienated from God," than he had been during the chafiugs of his trial. But the reign of terror had begun, CRUELTY MADE PERFECT. 377 and Pellico, perhaps its noblest victim, was paying the penalty exacted by oppression. Down to the minutest arrangement, even to the changing of his linen and the colour of his dress, the oppressor's hand was on him ; he had literally to work out freedom in sackcloth and chains. Added to this sufferer's other sorrows was the pain of hunger. He could not swallow the prison fare, though he persisted long in the attempt ; and was at times fain to par- take of bread smuggled into his den by some official who felt touched by his woes, or who braved detection for prov- ing that he was a man, and could feel. Disease at length began violently to prey upon the prisoner ; but doctor after doctor was summoned to see him ere any real relief could be granted. So far had Pellico at one period sunk, that the last rites of the Church to which he belonged were ad- ministered to him as to a dying man. He recovered, how- ever; but even the tender mercies of that prison were cruel. When allowed to walk out on a part of the castle to ward off death, he was guarded by two men with loaded muskets; and at a subsequent period, when his walk had drawn the eyes of some upon him, or procured some kindly greetings, it was hidden by palisades, so that no eye but that of his guards could see him ; in short, cruelty was in- genious in torturing, or in reducing its victim to the mini- mum upon which a mortal could live without being driven to derangement or a voluntary death. When he begged that his chain might be removed from his legs, were it only for a day or two, that he might get some sleep during a fever which had seized him, the physician informed him " that the fever was not yet so bad as to require it." In other words, torture was administered according to the beatings of the pulse. It was something just short of murder, under the guise of a physician's prescription. But there were refinements even upon this kind of cruelty, 378 HORROR UPON HORROR. for an attempt was made to bind him not to speak in prison. It originated in the conversation which some of the patients from Italy were enabled to hold with each other through the walls or the grating of adjoining cells. Pellico was thus to hare been reduced to the level of the inarticulate beasts ; but he resented the attempt, and refused to be gagged by anything but actual force. When he could catch a glimpse of them, he enjoyed, with a poet's fervour, the brightness of the sky, and the beauty of the earth. The voices of the city, the very gambols of dumb animals in short, all lovely things were a joy, and amid his delight, he loved to speak of them ; it broke the dreary monotony of his cell To be silent, therefore, was a bondage to which he could not sub- mit without ceasing to be a man ; and the very proposal to silence him seems the quintessence of cruelty. The prison fare, we have seen, was disgusting, and when Pellico, amid his sufferings, attempted to eat it, he swooned under the effort. It was even supposed that he was dead ; and when he revived, his fetters were at length ordered to be removed. An appeal was made to Vienna on his behalf; but instead of being permitted to be placed in the infirmary, he was ordered to be treated in his dungeon. There he be- came delirious again, and passed through a crisis which seemed not unlikely to close his earthly career. As some relief, he was now permitted to enjoy the society of a fellow- prisoner, Maroncelli, in the same cell ; but joyous as that relaxation of rigour was at first, it added in the end to the grief of Pellico. His friend grew ill A scorbutic affection seized upon both, and the limb of Maroncelli, after occasion- ing much agony, had to be amputated. It was horror added to horror ; and if aught could have quenched the ardour of Italian patriotism, such desolating woes might surely have succeeded. Application was next made by these two friends for the A RARE ASYLUM. 379 use of pen and ink, and for permission to purchase books ; but both requests were denied. Yet an antidote was found of which no tyranny could deprive them, except by driving them to madness. Pellico was enabled to compose extensive works, to retain them in his memory, and to correct and polish them there, insomuch that a whole tragedy was wrought off by that process. Maroncelli cultivated the same art, and was able to retain by heart many thousands of verses which he had composed. Rarely, we think, has such an asylum from oppression been found. * The rigours of Spielbeig increased from year to year, and a dull monotony of woe had now become the lot of Pellico. The years 1824, 1825, 1826, and 1827, were thus endured, rather than lived ; and during all that time he was forbidden the use of books. The prison, he says, was one vast tomb, without the peace and unconsciousness of death. He now learned to envy the happiness of some of the earlier periods of his bondage, and his dreary heart ached at the mental vassalage to which he was reduced. The Emperor sent him, indeed, some books on Ascetics a most appropriate gift and even such productions were the occasion of a merciful diversity amid the dulness of the dungeon. He resigned himself to the will of God, who hears the groaning of the prisoner; and instead of having his susceptibilities dulled by endurance as would have been the case in less elastic spirits Pellico's feelings grew more sensitive and acute. Morning, noon, and night, search was made through every corner of his dungeon ; the links of his chain were tested, lest any attempt should be made to sever them, and a bondage, as petty and irksome as it was heavy and grind- ing, was from day to day and year to year inflicted. The * At one period of his imprisonment, Pellico scratched his compositions upon his table, and after committing them to memory, erased them with fragment* of glass. 380 LIBEETY FOE THE CAPTIVE. very favours from the Emperor, announced with pretentious pomp, were a mockery. " I am commanded by his majesty," it was once said, " to communicate to you good tidings of your relations at Turin." The prisoner rejoiced, and begged for some details as to those whom he loved so well, for he knew not who were dead and who were alive ; but the an- swer was, " I can show you nothing. You must be satisfied. It is a mark of the Emperor's clemency to let you know even so much. The same favour is not shown to every one." There also lacerated affection had to succumb to power. Amid these rigours, and this mockery, friend after friend died at Spielberg, and the living envied the dead. The years 1828 and 1829 passed away like their predecessors, and it was now nearly nine years since Pellico was first im- prisoned. Through a private channel he had learned that the Emperor would probably count the days of bondage by twelve hours instead of twenty-four, so that by a fiction of imperial clemency, fifteen years would be only seven and a half. But that period had past, and hope deferred was producing its usual effects sickness and sinking of heart. At length, however, on the 1st of August 1830, and ten years after his seizure, it was announced to Pellico that he was free. " I have the pleasure," were the words employed, "the honour, I mean, of acquainting you that his majesty the Emperor has granted you a further favour. .... It is liberty." There were three included in the mercy, and no attempt need be made to tell their emotions. They were mute at first. The clemency was just not too late in reach- ing them ; but their escape into the free air of heaven rein- vigorated the bodily frame, restored their hope, and sent the man who had grown haggard and wan amid suffering back to some measure of joy. Some vexatious delays and hours of anxiety were still before Pellico, but they passed away. Italy was entered Turin was reached his parents RESULTS. 381 were found alive, and he was restored to their affections like one who had long been dead. It was on the 17th day of September 1830. His own conclusion of the whole matter was, that " God renders all men, and all things, how- ever opposite to the intentions of the agents, the wonderful instruments which he directs to the greatest and best of pur- poses." The words are prophetic, and the prophecy will be fulfilled : is it not in course of being so ? Such is a meagre abstract scarcely even an index of the sufferings of Silvio Pellico. As one who loved his country with a full heart, and grieved to see her trodden down by what he deemed a grinding*oppression, he came into collision with one of the best organized despotisms of all time one of the mightiest systems of repression which the world ever saw. But even that could not daunt his resolute mind, nor bend his will before the oppressor. Amid all that he en- dured, Pellico never uttered one word of regret that he had given himself to his country and its freedom. To the last, he endured with feelings of love as intense as ever actuated mortal man, and amid agonies which few ever passed through with their life. But though he was thus resolute and unswerving, his patriotism was calm and self-possessed ; and of all the examples of energetic decision which the re- cords of the past supply, few present a more extraordinary combination of moral forces than that of Silvio Pellico. He was impulsive, yet calm; he was passionate, yet self-con- tained; he was ardent, yet cautious; and looking at the powers of mind which underlie his whole history, we need not wonder either that he came into violent collision with a system which would hinder the onward march of man, or that he greatly, manfully, and for long endured, rather than succumb to what is, politically, self-destructive, and morally, a lie. No wonder, then, that the touching story of his " Prisons" has charmed the men of many lands. Of that 382 REFLECTIONS. work there have been five translations into German, three into Spanish, fourteen into French, and one into English. It has thus helped to feed the flickering flame of patriotism, always threatened but never extinguished, among the peo- ples ; and here, as in a thousand other cases, sufferings and agonies which even Pellico's words could not fully tell, have promoted the object for which he lived, more, perhaps, than the success of all his plans could have done. The cause for which he died many deaths may be retarded in its triumph it can never be lost. And no one can trace the history of his sufferings without observing the important place which religion held in guid- ing and sustaining him. From the period of his entering prison to the close of his troubles, it was a power in his soul presiding over all the rest. At times, indeed, the truth which he held suffered an eclipse ; and his mind then sank into weakness, or became the prey of passions which seemed to constitute strength, but which were, in reality, exhaustion. As soon, however, as the light which shines from heaven illumined his soul again, he was himself and more a match for the griefs by which brute oppression strove to crush the aspirations of a generous and most loving soul If Italy have many sons like-minded with Silvio Pellico, she will yet be free ; free not merely from the oppressor's heel, but better and higher far, from that mental bondage which has for centuries wasted her noble people, and turned one of the loveliest portions of the earth into a dreary desert by dark- ness and misrule. Pellico lived four and twenty years after he was set at liberty, and spent his time at Turin in literary pursuits. He published some of the works which he had composed or sketched in prison, and acted as librarian to the Marchesa Barolo, at whose villa of Moncaglieri he died on the first of January 154. CHAPTER V. |$en of Srinu* mtfo " And Science, eagle-eyed, Soars on the lightning; dives into the deep; Gages a dew-drop, or surreys a world ; Mounts Alpine summits, or an atom metes; Thnds all the mazes mystic Nature hides Then points her sister, Art, to forms divine." ||LL forms of beauty exist at first in the divine mind. That is their architype. The majestic glory of the heavens, so full of grand repose like that of Godhead, especially when they are seen at midnight, is only a faint and shaded gleam of that glory which encircles the Eternal. The harmony which reigns among the heavenly bodies, " for ever singing as they shine," is only one portion of the anthem which all creation utters to the glory of the everlasting One. Or, turning to other forms of beauty, when we stand face to face with the Venus at Florence, or the Apollo at Rome, we are awed by the wondrous display of gentle, timid loveliness in the one case, of imperial majesty in the other; and though we do not know that the trial was ever made, those forms of beauty would probably strike even a savage, at least with mute admiration. Yet what are these but sparks, emanations, flashes from the Great Centre of all that is lovely the mind of the Supreme 1 When this is overlooked, we lose far more than half the blessedness which might flow from the contempla- tion of the beautiful. " But my Father made them all," ia 384 AECHITYPAL BEAUTY. a profound and gladdening sentiment; and if he be our Father (not merely our Judge), such beauteous objects be- come new bonds between the soul and Him who is " alto- gether lovely." And the same holds true in science. What is the most wonderful discovery of Newton but a minute and micro- scopic fragment of the knowledge of the Everlasting ? What were all the demonstrations of La Place, but hints to us concerning the wisdom of Him with whose power and pre- sence the proud astronomer thought he could dispense, or whose works he supposed he could improve 1 Or, to contemplate the matter in still another light, what are the inventions of Watt, with all the train of changes to which they have led throughout the world, but so many revelations of the powers which the eternal Mind has lodged in the work of His hands hidden, no doubt, from the eyes of man, but waiting to reward his painstaking, and prove, as proofs are needed, how exhaustless are the works of God? Or, further still, the philanthropy of this age is one of its glories. Men have plunged into the jungle, or climbed the Himalayas, of India, to learn what might be profitable to others. They have made the degraded children of Ham the objects of their care, and explored their rivers, or braved their terrors, or fathomed and mapped down their lakes all with the purpose of bringing the savage within the pale of civilization and of truth. Or men have dived into dungeons, and been immured in Lazarettoes, or submitted to the scorn of unfeeling oppressors all that the wretched might become more happy, the degraded be elevated, and the wandering reclaimed. Or missionaries have gone to far distant lands to spread the knowledge of a Redeemer. They have taken their lives in their hands, and hastened away to the ice of Labrador and Greenland, or the broiling suns of THE CHIEF GOOD. 385 India; they have made their home in the Red Indian's wigwam, or they have first tamed, and then Christianized, they have tamed by Christianizing, the man-eater, after he had banqueted on some of his very benefactors and yet what was this, what were these but mere beams from Him who is the origin of all good, Himself God only good, God only wise ? Now, the following sketches will describe some of those who embodied in their life such gleams, such sparks, or such emanations from the Chief Good. They might or they might not recognise Him as the origin of all that they were, or did but if He was overlooked by them, the wiser are we if we learn to trace all up to His open hand to Him whose creative power is repeated every instant in prolonging the existence of all that He has made, and whose goodness finds an outlet in ten thousand times ten thousand chan- nels, unnoticed, or often disowned by the children of men. Let us see, then, how some of these instruments for diffusing the divine wisdom and goodness and power among their fellow men have succeeded in the enterprise, where con- sciously, or unconsciously they bore a commission from the King Eternal. When weakness is linked to the Almighty One, or when the wandering secure the guidance of Omni- science, what may they not accomplish, how far not climb, how much not enjoy? Nay, even though the Highest may lead them blindfold while they are working out his purposes, something wilt flash through to show that the Supreme Wis- dom has been guiding ; and that conviction may be deepened as we ponder the sections which follow. L JOHANN GUTENBERG. 1397-1468. " Those mighty masters of the earlier art, Those matchless wizards of the elder day, From earthly things, and earthly thoughts apart, What grandeur their devisings all display ! Lofty conceptions their grand souls pervade, And take immortal shapes at their command. With reverential feeling, moved and swayed, And silently inspire the cunning of their hand." J. C. PRIKOB. Inventions and disputes The art of printing Chinese printing Blocks Stamps and seals Moveable types Gutenberg, Fust, and Shoeffer Their respective shares in the invention Gutenberg's troubles Lawsuits Charges against him Partnerships Vexations His work And death His statue at Mayence Other printers William Ged, the inventor of stereotyping The price of books. | HO invented the Mariner's Compass ? The Chinese? or Marco Polo ? or Flavio Gioja ? Who discovered the art of making gunpowder ? The Chinese again ? or Friar Bacon ? or Michael Schwartz ofGoslar? Who invented the telescope? Was it Baptista Porta ? or Fracostaro ? or Roger Bacon ? or Jansen 1 or Galileo ? or who? Who founded the Infant School system ? Was it Pastor Oberlin, in the Ban de la Roche ? or Wilderspin ? or some other claimant ? Who first discovered the virtues of Vaccination ? The Arabians? Fewsterof Thornbury? Jenner? or some twenty other claimants ? DISPUTED INVENTIONS. 387 Who first opened a Sabbath school ? Was it Raikes ? or did he only adopt and mature what had before been prac- tised by many other friends of the young ? Whether was the Davy or the Geordy Safety-lamp first invented ? Whether was Arkwright or Wyatt the first who employed rollers in machinery for spinning ? Who was the first to decompose water into its two com- ponent parts ? Watt, or Cavendish ? Who first detected the place of the new planet Neptune ? Adams, or Le Verrier ? Who first decyphered the arrow-headed characters of Eastern inscriptions, and furnished a key to explain the ex- cavations of Nineveh ? Was it Rawlinson, or some other investigator of Oriental antiquities ? Such are some of the questions suggested by a survey of the progress of discovery. Nearly every important inven- tion has given rise to a keen controversy, and rival claims ; it seems well-nigh an established law in all such cases that no progress can be made, none of the fruits of genius reaped, without contest and collision. It is part of the price which is paid for fame. The greatest of all arts, the art of printing, is no exception to the remark Nay here, if ever, disputes are eager and endless. Claimant after claimant has been named in the contest upon this subject, till no fewer than eight cities, Mayence, Strasbourg, Haarlem, Venice, Rome, Florence, Basle, and Augsburg, compete for the honour of the inven- tion. Printing of a certain kind was known in China in the middle of the tenth century, and it is said to have been invented there by Foong-Taon, a minister of state. Even in times far more remote, for example in the palmy days of Babylon, traces are found of a mode of stamping im- pressible matter; and the seals and signet>rings, so often 388 FIRST FORMS OF PRINTING. mentioned in the oldest records of man, are in principle just a mode of printing. In manufactures also, for in- stance, in the Low Countries there was a kind of stamping employed which might sometimes suggest to the weary copyists of ancient books a more expeditious mode of pro- ducing copies, and there are some evidences that it was so. But not till the first half of the fifteenth century, did the art of printing assume such a form as could give promise of what it has achieved. The chief claimants for the honour of the invention are, John Gutenberg, a man who ranked by birth among nobles, a native of May en ce, though often called of Strasbourg, owing to a long residence there ; John Fust, of the same city as Gutenberg; Peter Shceffer, a scribe or copyist of Gersheim ; and Laurence Coster of Haarlem. But the claims of Coster are so poorly supported that he may now be dropped from the list of competitors ; we need at- tend only to the three first in tracing the origin or allotting the honour of the invention. It is well that we can as- sign his due share to each with tolerable exactness, but we confine attention chiefly to Gutenberg, for he was, be- yond a question, the first of the three engaged in printing as the art is now practised ; he alone had to encounter the main difficulties, delays, losses, and trials of an inventor. JOHANN GUTENBERG, or GUTTENBERG, whose real name was Gensfleisch, was born at Sorgenloch near Mentz, in the year 1397, but not much is recorded regarding his early dis- cipline. It was between the year 1436 and 1442, that he began to print ; and there seems no reason to doubt that he was the first to use moveable types. Till his time, any printing that deserved the name was done with blocks, on which the contents of a page or some considerable space were engraved. The whole page was thus at once placed upon the paper, the letters on the block being, of course, cut reversed. But this was obviously a clumsy mode of proceed- PROGRESS AND DIFFICULTIES. 389 ing ; for example, only one side of a leaf was printed upon, and two leaves were then pasted together to form continu- ous reading. As far as can be ascertained, however, Guten- berg was the first to break up the blocks into separate letters, and print by moveable types in the manner still common in the art. This appears to be his pre-eminent merit. At first, the types were of wood, being in effect just the wooden page-block cut into its minute parts, and for many years Gutenberg appears to have employed such types in his office at Strasbourg. All was then kept secret, as far as possible; and evidence led in one of his lawsuits indicates, in the case of witness after witness, how ner- vously anxious the inventor was that no one should see his types set up, so as to learn his plans : message after message, or order after order was given to prevent what would obviously have been regarded as a misfortune. But the same evidence completely proves that the types were moveable. In consequence of this secresy, the printer had to construct his own press, to cut his own types, and manu- facture his own ink. In truth, the spirit of a martyr or a devotee was needed by the man who had often to write or translate the work he was to print, to compose his own types, and to act as his own pressman and corrector of the press. He required not less to be binder, editor, bookseller and publisher; and the man who could combine the functions of all these, even though not an inventor, was no ordinary mortal he had to accomplish with his own hands what is now the work of hundreds, in various departments. The chafing impediments occasioned by all this may easily be supposed. While at Strasbourg, and practising his art as secretly as possible, Gutenberg was induced, by urgent solicitations, to make it known to some of his friends. A contract was (20) 25 390 CARES AND CROSSES. entered into. Money was paid to the inventor for hia secret ; and the friends, for some time, prosecuted their work in common. One of them died, however, during the currency of the contract. His heirs claimed a continued share in Gutenberg's operation, and though the claims were rejected by the judges in the case, in the year 1438, the law- suit was one trouble more to one who was already suffi- ciently harassed. In these circumstances it is not wonderful that Gutenberg did not increase his wealth by the invention which he had struck out. On the contrary, though he had done more for man than Egypt with alJ its lore, or Greece with all its eloquence, or Home with all its legions, in addition to all the toils and annoyances to which he had been already exposed, his means failed. After struggling for some years at Strasbourg to establish his new art, he was compelled to leave that city and return to Mayence. It was with him as it has been with a thousand other benefactors of the human race if he would do good, or work out an idea which was to become a power as influential in the moral world as that of the sun itself in the material, it must be, as ever, amid trouble, and crosses, and grief. He may have re- ceived from posterity the honour which his own age denied him : In spite of the charges brought against him of having pilfered the secret from Laurence Coster, and all that could harass a generous mind charged with such a fraud, he may have taken at length his right position in the minds of men. But it still remains true that Guten- berg had to fight his way through crowding obstacles, and though possessed of a secret destined, when fully made known, to revolutionize the world, he had to live amid trials, as he died, " after a life of much suffering and hard- ship," " in great poverty," * in some degree a victim to the * Authorities differ as to this. FRESH DISASTERS. 391 world's progress. Few who have done so much for man as he did are allowed to sun themselves in prosperity; yet is there a measure of reward in the conviction embodied in the words, "Upright, self-relying toil! Who that knows thy solid worth, would be ashamed of thy hard hands, and thy soiled vestments, and thy obscure tasks, thy humble cottage, and hard couch, and homely fare ? Save for thee and thy lessons, man in society would everywhere sink into a sad compound of the fiend and the wild beast, and this fallen world be as certainly a moral as a natural wilderness." Gutenberg returned to Mayence, then, about the year 1445, others say about 1450. As he had expended nearly all his property on the invention, and in pressing it into use, he was forced or tempted to think of abandoning the work as hopeless. Difficulties thickened around him, and as his efforts could not be renewed without money, he saw his hopes fast vanishing away. At this crisis, however, he formed an alliance with John Fust, or Faust, a goldsmith in Mentz, and a man of considerable wealth, who advanced the large sum of 2020 florins to enable the resolute, but hitherto unfortunate Gutenberg, to prosecute his labours. Fust was to be taught the secrets of the art, and to advance the necessary funds, in return for which he was to be ad- mitted to share the profits. But about five years after his return to Mayence, this engagement led to a lawsuit and abundant trouble to the inventor. It appears that the gains were not sufficiently prompt or golden for the money- lender, and the case became vexatious. As the result, Gutenberg's materials, constructed at no little cost, at once of means, of labour, and invention, fell into the hands of Fust. This would seem to be proved by the fact that the initials of Gutenberg and his partners, attached to works known to have been printed prior to the lawsuit, continued to be used by Fust and Shoeffer after it. This mortifying 392 RESULTS OF PRINTING. result, no doubt, galled the ardent inventor. Perhaps his own impetuosity helped to augment his troubles ; but, whatever was the cause, Gutenberg was now too far ad- vanced to retreat. Nay, he appears to have started again with fresh vigour after all his crosses, not the least of which was the exclusion of his name from one of the works printed with his types, a Psalter dated 1457. He printed an edition of the Bible in 1450-5, which is described as a "superb book," Previous to his engagement with Fust, the types used by Gutenberg had been made of wood. Now, however, these were superseded by metallic types. The letters of the alpha- bet were cast in copper or tin, and such is believed to have been Fust's contribution to the art. But even after the original inventor had been thus aided, the difficulties of the invention were by no means surmounted. Nay, debts to the amount of 4000 florins, equal, perhaps, to 60,000 in our day, were contracted before the new printers had pro- ceeded far with the Bible which they had at press. This magnificent art, the patron of all others, had thus to fight its way amid impediments innumerable; and again and again it seemed on the verge of being crushed in the bud. Who would have ventured to predict that Gutenberg was working out an idea concerning a power capable of producing forty thousand copies of the Times in less than four hours, from one set of types, or of yielding, as " the annual returns of the publishing trade in all departments" about 5,000,000 sterling in Great Britain alone. Once more, however, Gutenberg, and his partner Fust, were relieved by the co-operation of Shceffer, already men- tioned, the son-in-law of Fust. He invented, or assisted in, a new mode of casting types in matrices, formed by a steel punch, which was the third stage in the discovery ; and of which it has been said that the art was thus reduced THICKENING COMPLICATIONS. 393 to the condition in which it exists in our day. The details of these inventions were long kept a profound secret ; indeed, an oath was administered to the workmen. The secret, however, was at last divulged; but to Shceffer the honour appears to belong of having invented the process of casting the types, instead of cutting each. The different shares of fame are to be allotted consequently somewhat as follows: First, Gutenberg employed moveable types, but mainly or entirely in wood. Secondly, Fust introduced the use of metallic types, each letter being separately formed. And, thirdly, Shoeffer added the plan of casting the types, instead of cutting each letter in detail. But Gutenberg's trials were not yet surmounted. Even the metallic types were not sufficiently hard to withstand the power employed in pressing, and that also had to be remedied by the use of a hardening process. Then, as we have seen, he was involved in lawsuits of a vexatious nature in con- nection with his operations. As his private fortune, which was considerable, had been early swallowed up, he had become dependent on his more wealthy partner, Fust ; and whether it was genius and enterprise smarting under such a state of matters, or the money-power asserting more than its rightful share of importance, it were difficult to decide, but new complications arose. New lawsuits were raised; and Gutenberg, the originator of the art, continued through- out his career beset with difficulties enough to repress any less ardent mind. He, however, was not to be daunted ; though his work was a warfare, he faced it and triumphed. Again and again he had to recommence his enterprise, after being thwarted by causes which cannot now be explained. None of the books which he printed are now known for certain to exist, though some suppose that the Biblia Sacra Latina, without date, is the first product of the printing press, and appears to some to have been printed between 1450 and 1455, while Gutenberg and Fust were partners. Long before he ceased to be a practical printer, the art which he had invented had spread into many lands. The partnership of the three ceased in the year 1458, and soon after that time the press had penetrated into many of the countries of Europe; for example, into Italy, in 1465; into France, in 1469 ; into England, in 1474 ; into Spain, in 1475 ; and in the year 1530, there were about two hundred printing presses in Europe. In 1465, Gutenberg entered the service of the Elector Adolphus of Nassau, a fact which we cannot reconcile with the statement of those who tell that he died " in great poverty." It is certain, however, that after persevering for at least twenty years in maturing an art which has shed a light on mind similar to that of sun- shine on the landscape, he did not find that it led to a recompense sufficient to smooth his way to the grave. Labour and sorrow were his lot ; and he is to be ranked among the great benefactors of mankind who did good by self-sacrifice, who lived amid toil, and died, at last, in com- parative neglect, after bestowing favours on our race, such as it never fell to the lot of any other mortal to bestow. His death took place at Mayence in the year 1468, and his epitaph could be read there so late as 1640, in the church of the Franciscans. Posterity has tried to compensate for the neglect of con- temporaries ; and Gutenberg's memory is now deemed a house- hold possession in Germany. A monument, executed by Thorwaldsen, was erected at Mayence in memory of the three Gutenberg, Fust, and Shceffer. A Gutenberg society testifies men's tardy gratitude by an annual festival; and he who was left uncheered, or not seldom pressed by poverty, during his labours in perfecting the most noble invention of man, is at length recognised and lauded as WONDERS. 395 the benefactor of the globe. On the 14th day of August, in the year 1837, fifteen thousand strangers resorted from all countries to Mayence to inaugurate his statue, and do honour to Gutenberg. It was uncovered amid the ap- plause of myriads ; and the monument reared by the sub- scriptions of many nations, now consummated by their blended plaudits, told how much they revered the memory of the great inventor. The processions the imposing pomps of Romanism the great Bible of Gutenberg, Fust, and ShoefFer there exposed to view the salutes of artillery the assembled representatives of the nations the hymn sung by a thousand voices the orations, in short, the high jubilee of those three days, proclaimed to the world, that if honour was slowly paid to one who deserved it well, it was paid with interest ; and Gutenberg thenceforth became a name of glory, as far as man could bestow it. Most of the books which he is believed to have printed were religious. It has already appeared that some of his pecuniary difficulties were occasioned by efforts made in printing the Bible; and Hallam did not assert too much, when he said regarding the success of the partners in their bold enterprise to print the whole Bible at first, and at once, that " it was Minerva leaping on earth in her divine strength, and radiant armour, ready at the moment of her nativity to subdue and destroy her enemies." The other products of that press and period are nearly all of a similar class ; and whether we attribute that to Gutenberg's own predilection, or to the demands of the times, when men were just awakening from a long religious stupor and darkness, we are equally called to rejoice in that invention which now enables us to produce, in this island alone, a complete copy of the word of God, every five seconds in the working time of a printer. It is wonderful in our eyes ; and if Gutenberg really loved the Bible, we can believe that all his toils 396 CONCLUSIONS, would have been cheerfully endured, and all his losses cheer- fully borne could he have foreseen the measureless blessings he was bestowing upon millions of millions. But he had to work out his life-problem amid multiform trials. From the little we know of his domestic history, he appears to have been a liberal and generous man. He was surely a favoured one ; and if he had to struggle and contend till his dying day, what is that but a repetition of the work done, or the woe endured by all the great since man's reason became distempered, and his affections estranged from the Chief Good ? Such, then, is another of those " starry lights" which help to irradiate the path of man. Ever since the decree went forth, that in the sweat of his brow they should wring their bread from the earth, we have seen the children of Adam walking in woe, till the mirth of the world has seemed to some like the laughter of the maniac. Yet amid the troubles which so often encompass the path of the gifted, we are not to forget their joys the joy of triumph over difficulties the consciousness that at last, if not now, others will see with their light. We know too little of the life of Guten- berg to be able to say how it was with him. But we do know that he persevered against a hundred obstacles ; that he adds another to the list of decided and persistent heroes ; and that the shout of many people, from many lands, at length and tardily called the inventor of printing to his lofty place among those whom the Supreme has made lights and blessings to mankind. In our poor world, the Great Giver dispenses his bounty by means of stewards of various degrees. Gutenberg was one of his high stewards ; and in spite of the burden which he had to bear, he disbursed blessings in showers to the children of men. One of the orators of Mayence, on the day when the statue to the first printers was completed, summed up these THE WORLD HELPED FORWARD. 397 blessings ; and we may let a German enthusiast speak the praises of his country's best benefactor, next to Martin Luther, for whom, as for thousands, Gutenberg opened the way. He says,* " If the mortal who invented that method of fixing the fugitive sounds of words which we call the alphabet, has operated on mankind like a divinity, so also has Gutenberg's genius brought together the once isolated inquirers, teachers, and learners, all the scattered and divided efforts for extending God's kingdom over the whole civi- lized earth, as though beneath one temple. Gutenberg's invention, not a lucky accident, but the golden fruit of a well-considered idea, an invention made with a perfect con- sciousness of its end, has, above all other causes, for more than four centuries, urged forward and established the dominion of science ; and what is of the most importance, has immeasurably advanced the mental formation and education of the people. This invention a true intellec- tual sun has mounted above the horizon, first of the Euro- pean Christians, and then of the people of other climes, and other faiths, to an ever-enduring morning. It has made the return of barbarism, the isolation of mankind, the reign of darkness, impossible for all future times. It has established a public opinion, a court of moral judicature common to all civilized nations, whatever natural divisions may separate them, as much as for the provinces of one and the same state. In a word, it has formed fellow-labourers at the never-resting loom of Christian European civilization in every quarter of the world, in almost every island of the ocean." As trouble crowded upon trouble in the life of the first inventor of printing, some of those who advanced the art towards its present perfection have been similarly tried. * See the passage in "The Old Printer and the Modern Press," by Charles Knight. 398 STEREOTYPING. Printing from blocks was an early stage of that art ; and stereotyping is, in one point of view, a recurrence to that method. According to this mode, the page is first set up with letters in the usual manner, and a cast is taken from the page when completed, and ready for the press. The invention of this process has given rise to discussions almost as eager as those which arose out of Gutenberg's, and at least four inventors are named in connection with this branch of the art. It appears, however, that William Ged, a goldsmith of Edinburgh, was the real inventor; and if so, his trials were scarcely fewer than those of his great predecessor. He suggested to a friend that it would be easy to print from plates cast from pages which were composed in moveable type, and soon produced a specimen to establish his opinion. Arrangements were entered into with a capitalist to obtain the necessary funds it was Guten- berg and Fust repeated, and Ged's troubles soon began. As the man of money failed to fulfil his bargain, the inventor made a contract with a London stationer to embody his invention in books. Here again, however, he was long tried and thwarted, till a third arrangement became necessary. He next proposed to the English Universities and the royal printers, to stereotype Bibles and Prayer-books ; and for a time this undertaking seemed, or at least promised, to pros- per. Again, however, difficulties arose. In seeking to do good, Ged had to encounter ignorance and prejudice on the part of workmen, as well as hostility from interested parties. Plan after plan was adopted by him to bring his method into operation; but from the typefounder up to the printer, all was hostility, so that no progress was made. For four-and-twenty years he continued his at- tempts; that is, from the year 1725 to 1749, when he died in London of a broken heart, occasioned by the utter failure of his plans. His son attempted to retrieve the loss, but FATALITY AMONG EARLY PRINTERS. 399 met with equal disappointments. Those who at first rejected the plans of Ged subsequently adopted them, and made extensive use of his plates ; but he himself died neglected and poor, while preparing to add to the wealth of thou- sands. His chief memorials are two Prayer-books, printed for the University of Cambridge, an edition of Sallust, and the sad memory of his crosses and sorrows.* Such then is too often the reward of genius. Many whom the world has at last delighted to honour went to their graves unheeded, nay, defrauded or oppressed. It is as if the Author of every perfect gift would plant an antidote to vain glory side by side with what He bestows. It is well known that Sir Isaac Newton's own College at Cambridge, was among the last to admit his discoveries into the goodly fellowship of the recognised sciences so keenly was he opposed where he should have been most prized and that treatment of Newton embodies a general law of which this seems the formula : Benefit your fellow-men, and for a time at least, expect their envy and their opposition. It is thus that God on high tests and burnishes that greatness which is true. But who shall tell the effects of Gutenberg's invention upon the history of man ? The result in one single depart- ment may serve as a specimen of the whole. Prior to his time, the price of books was such that none but the wealthiest ever saw them. At Oxford, for example, in the year 1446, it was enacted that no student should occupy a * Melchior de Stambam wished to establish a printing press at Augsburg, and employed a year in making preparations for his office. He had five presses ; he cast pewter types; and after thus expending seven hundred and two florins in preparation, he began working in 1478, but died before he had finished one book, "heart-broken probably," says Mr. C. Knight, " at the amount of capital he had sunk, for his unfinished book was sold off at a mere trifle, and his office broken up." Again, " For some years after the invention of printing, many of the ingenious, learned, and enterprising men who devoted themselves to the new art which was to change the face of society, were ruined, because they could not sell cheaply unless they printed a considerable number of a book, and there were not readers inough to take off the stock which thus accumulated." 400 REVOLUTIONS WEOUGHT. book for more than two hours, that others might not be defrauded. Money was often lent on the deposit of a book, as now upon estates. In 1299 the Bishop of Winchester borrowed a Bible from a convent, and gave a formal bond for its restoration. In 1471, Louis XI. of France borrowed the works of an Arabian physician, from the Faculty of Medicine at Paris, and both deposited a costly pledge, and gave a bond, with a second party as surety, for their safe return. Or, if we glance still farther back, other incidents prove both the scarcity and the value of MS. books. Plato paid about ,375 for three small treatises by Philolaus, a Pythagorean. Aristotle purchased the books of Speusippus, which were few in number, for about ,675. King Alfred, of England, gave to a bishop as the price of a book, as much land as eight ploughs could till About the year 1274, a Bible sold for about 33, 6s. 8d., and that at a time when a labourer's wages were only three halfpence a day. Now such gleanings help us to judge of the importance of Guten- berg's invention, its importance even in the high reckon- ing of eternity. Prior to his times, the way to the know- ledge of God's mind was costly, if not royal ; and yet the man who introduced a new era in that respect, was har- assed and agitated till we lose sight of him in the dimness of obscurity! Such voices from the past surely reach us charged with deep significance, if we have ears to hear. II. MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAROTI. 1474r-1563. Sovran of Art, Imperial Angelo, Whose wizard chisel charmed the rock to life, And giant pencil bade the Sistine glow With frescoed marvels of the final strife Where doom awaits the wicked, by thy hand All loveliness with awful forms is blent, Till Greece's beauty lives in thy loved land, And Rome itself is bat thy monument" ANON. Man's normal condition Michael Angelo His birth and training Leaves Florence Bologna Returns to Florence His works Rome Examples of his decision -Trials Leonardo da Vinci Contests Julius II. Michael Angelo leaves Rome His troubles Works at Bologna Is reconciled to the pope Returns to Rome Rivalry Jealousies Paints the Sistine chapel- Troubles there Sent to Florence by Leo X. Prosecution Michael Angelo becomes military architect at Florence A siege He is obliged to abandon the city Urged to return Returns The city taken His danger Fresh imbroglio At Rome again Becomes architect of St Peter's His conflicts- Griefs Insults -Tet triumphs St Peter's completed Old age Death- Retrospect. FRENCH financier who had amassed a large fortune, by his labour and his energy, was con- gratulated, in his old age, on the stores he had heaped up, and might now calmly enjoy. " I would give the whole," he replied, " for the age of fifteen, and a five franc piece," and the saying teems with truth. Among other things, it impresses upon us the happiness which flows from energy, and enterprise, and pursuit. Not the supine indolence of an oriental, but manly persistence and vigorous effort from the normal condition of man, as long as he deserves the name. 402 EARLY BIAS. And if ever any of the sons of men acted under that law, it was MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAEOTL He was born in the castle of Caprese, in Tuscany, on the 6th of March 1474, of a family which was both ancient and illustrious. His father, Ludivico di Leonardo Buonaroti Simone, was a descendant of a noble house, and allied to the imperial blood, while some of Michael's ancestors had held high office in his native country. Thus cradled amid the associations which generally influence, and not seldom inflate " old families," the boy was in danger of being lost to mankind, or doomed to some obscure dignity by parents who deemed labour a disgrace. He was placed at a grammar school in the neigh- bourhood of his father's residence, not far from Florence, but his progress there was not remarkable. As he was nursed by the wife of a mason, he had access as a child to chisels and mallets which, he often said in jest, had decided his taste and his lot in life. Every moment which he could snatch from his duties as a schoolboy was devoted to draw- ing and kindred employments; and hence his first trial arose. The senseless pride of his father was shocked at the thought that his son should be an artist ; and he tried, not merely by persuasion, but by chastisement, to repress the ardour, or alter the bent of Michael's mind. The attempt was vain ; there was something in the boy which propelled him towards the arts, in spite of family pride ; the father at last gave his consent; the son became the pupil of the painter Ghirlandaio, and soon made it apparent that the master was only second in the studio. From his earliest years this youth was bold, decided, and even impetuous. So rapid was his progress in his profes- sion, that some of his earliest productions are said to have been such that even his maturest efforts scarcely surpassed them. He found a patron in Lorenzo dei Medici, who sought to foster the love of art in his country, and provided THE STRONG SWIMMER. 403 means and models of study for the most promising of the youth. Michael Angelo was one of the first whom he thus stimulated ; nor was he unworthy of the favour, for so per- fect were his copies of some of the works which he studied, that they were purchased as if they had been the ori- ginals. We should not fail to notice the painstaking of this youth, from the very outset, in acquiring eminence in his profession. Though gifted above most, and propelled as an artist by strong native likings, he did not regard that as superseding the necessity of care and watchfulness. Even in his juvenile efforts, his studies were elaborate. Where- ever he could, he went to nature as his school. For example, if he had to paint a fish, he resorted to the fish- market to study the form, the colours, the fins and the eyes ; and so in other cases. This was applying to the true foun- tain head, and helped to make the young artist what he already was, one of the chief agents in reviving, or rather in perfecting the fine arts about four centuries ago. There is no royal road to eminence in any department, more than in geometry. The path to greatness must be entered on with decision, and persisted in with energy, for life is like stemming a rapid river. If the swimmer, however strong, cease for an instant from his efforts, the current, that in- stant, sweeps him down. Michael Angelo is on the way, then, to a place high up among his fellow-men. He has entered on a path where the creations of his mind, and the work of his hands are to be eulogized as superb, and grand, "without a rival in ancient and modern art." Indeed, what may we not expect from one who frequently rose in the middle of the night, to resume the labours of the day; and who often slept in his common dress, that the least possible loss of time might be caused by necessary rest 1 What, then, was to 404 YOUTHFUL PRODUCTIONS. be the life-work of Michael Angelo? We have seen how resolute he was in entering upon it. Neither authority nor punishment could turn him aside. By a resistless impulse he made up his mind ; and what is that impetuous youth to become? He is to pursue one of the grandest careers ever followed by a mortal. The direct pursuit of a man's eternal welfare is loftier than that of Michael Angelo, and such discoveries as those of Watt more directly affect the interests of society, the pursuits or the cares of every day. But next to these, we need not scruple to place the doings of a man who stood pre-eminent, many say first, as a painter, a sculptor, and an architect, while his poetry is ranked side by side with the best of its class. To trace the life-career of such a man must teem with lessons for the thoughtful. Lorenzo dei Medici had obtained the consent of Michael's father to take him entirely under ducal protection. It had become apparent that aristocratic hostility and parental persecution were powerless when opposed to devoted attach- ment or the resistless impulse of genius ; and the youth ap- pears to be already on the way to eminence. But Lorenzo died. His successor, Pietro, was as stolid as the patron of young Buonaroti was discriminating or munificent ; and the youth forsook Florence first for Bologna, and then for Venice. At the former place he resided for about a year, but as his ardent aspirations were not responded to, he re- turned to Florence, and resumed his labours there. One of his sculptures of this period was so exquisite that, after un- dergoing such processes as deception knows how to employ, it was sold at Rome as an antique, though Buonaroti was no party to the imposition. He now, however, pro- ceeded to Rome, still pressing upward with indomitable ardour ; and some of his works took a high place there among the productions of the age. One of them was ad- PROGRESS. 405 mitted into the St. Peter's of that day, where the artist over- heard a party of Lombards who were visiting the church, assign his work to one of their countrymen as its author ; and that he might not be robbed of the coveted fame, he shut himself up in the temple over night, and chiselled his name upon the drapery of the group. This little incident is an index to the man. While thus working his way towards his lofty place with brush and easel, with chisel and mallet, and firmly planting all his steps, Buonaroti often evinced that energy and decision akin to violence, for which he was signalized through life. He had painted a picture, which still re- mains, for a certain Agosto Doni, and asked seventy ducats for the work Doni sent him forty. But Michael Angelo returned them, and as the amateur had not accepted the terms, one hundred ducats were now demanded, or else the picture. Doni was scared, and sent the original seventy ; but as he had never yet closed with the artist's terms, he now demanded either one hundred and forty or the picture. The ducats were sent, and Buonaroti at once established his own position as a man not to be trifled with, and rebuked the chafering amateur. Hitherto, however, Michael Angelo has been only com- mencing his life-task. He had difficulties to face when selecting it. He had risks to run in pursuing it; but the way had been considerably smoothed by those ener- gies which enabled him, when apprenticed at the age of fourteen, to receive remuneration for his work, instead of paying for instructions. Still, however, he had difficulties to encounter such as few have had to face. The gigantic conceptions of his mind were mighty impediments to their own fulfilment ; for the state of art in his age rendered such works as he contemplated impossible to any but a man like him. If his mighty conceptions were embodied, he would 406 A TESTING RIVALBY. distance all living competition; but how embody them? The difficulties which he had to face would have proved in- surmountable to inferior minds ; but he faced them. He triumphed ; and the future of his life from our present stage is little else than a series of heavy trials, and as signal suc- cesses ; of crosses and thwartings ; of mean stratagems, and petty jealousies such as would have worn away any less noble mind, but which he, by an energy which refused to quail, transformed into foils to his own greatness. One of the first contests which Michael Augelo had now to wage was of a thoroughly testing character even to his intrepid powers. He had to compete, on a certain occasion, with Leonardo da Vinci, who was his senior by more than twenty years, and one of the most remarkable men of that or of any age. Mathematics, mechanics, hydrostatics, music, poetry, and especially painting, had been cultivated by Da Vinci to an extent which renders credible the traditions regarding the fabulous accomplishments of the Admirable Crichton. In optics, in general philosophy, as well as in some of the lighter accomplishments, he was among the foremost men of his era the companion of princes, and one who actu- ally died in the arms of a king! With that man, then, Michael Angelo had to compete. The Council-hall at Florence was to be painted by Da Vinci on one side, and by Buonaroti, his rival, on the other. Each selected his own subject, and by common consent the latter triumphed. His cartoon became a study " for the whole world ;" and amid all his efforts and achievements, he never surpassed, some say never equalled, the wondrous genius displayed in the painting of the battle of Pisa. It was considered at the time the most exquisite design that had ever been executed. After this trial and triumph, Buonaroti was called to Rome when Julius the Second became pope, about the year 1503. He was soon thereafter employed to execute a monu- ST. PETEK'S. 407 ment for that pontiff, and the conception of it was worthy of the genius of this great sculptor, as well as of the bold and martial pope. Had it been completed, with its colossal figures, its bronzes, its columns, and decorations, it would have been the most splendid monument of its class ever constructed by man. It never was completed, however, though it proved a source of disquietude and annoyance to its designer almost to the end of his days. To begin with, no existing church was large enough to receive it. A sug- gestion was made that a monument so princely deserved a chapel for itself. The pride of the pope, who was so eager to erect his own monument, caught at the proposal, and as the old church of St. Peter's could not contain the fabric, it was determined that a new St. Peter's should be erected on the same site ; and the monument of Julius was designed to adorn the new structure. Hence, the present church of St. Peter's one of the most stupendous fabrics that the art of man ever reared. Hence, more remotely, the Reformation ; for hence, Indulgences to raise money ; hence, outraged con- sciences, and outraged common sense : hence, agonies on the part of the Reformed, and cruelties on the part of Julius, or at least of his successors, which may well make the ears of them that hear them to tingle. In the providence of God, the most splendid edifice which Popery ever reared became the means of shaking the religion of the pope to its basis. Michael Angelo, it has been said, laid the foundation-stone of the Reformation. Having received the pope's instructions, the artist began with characteristic ardour to work out his plans. He spent eight months at Carrara selecting marble. Some of the blocks were forwarded to Rome, and others to Florence, that when malaria prevailed in the former, he might retire to the latter, and proceed with his work without interrup- tion. His figures, chiselled often under the eye of Julius 408 THE BEGINNING OF SORROWS. were admired by crowds; but envy as well as admiration followed. On the one hand, the pope's favours conferred on Michael Angelo offended many. On the other hand, hia own impetuous and impulsive temper rather increased than smoothed away these difficulties ; and this was the beginning of sorrows. Some of the pope's dependants chose to put a slightupon the sculptor in connection with funds for his work; but as long as Michael Angelo believed that such things were not the doings of Julius himself, he bore them with- out very much pain. At length, however, he broke up his establishment at Rome, and retired to Florence : he would not bear the insolence, accompanied as it was with the re- fusal of funds, while the envy of those who surrounded the pope gave energy to one who was already sufficiently de- cided. In those times of papal awe, when a pope was actually God, this was a bold measure even in such a man. Five couriers were in succession despatched to recall him ; but he refused for a time so much as to reply. At length, however, lie declared that as he had been repulsed with ignominy, he had determined to retire from a service where such a thing was possible. The pope next applied to the Florentine Re- public, and sent a Brief to recall its great subject. Even that Brief, however, did not move Buonaroti ; and not till letter after letter came, couched no more in the language of friendly request, but of authoritative command, was he moved by the applications. But when he did think seri- ously of them, it was to determine to proceed to Constan- tinople to serve the Sultan, not to Rome to honour the pope. Such are the perils, and such the penalties of greatness. Michael Angelo is now in collision with the most dreaded power which then existed. If he would not be at once de- frauded and insulted, he must resist the authority even of a THE SISTINE CHAPEL. 409 pope. He had subsequently to confess that he could find no rest but in solitary woods, away from the haunts of men; and the events which brought him to that state of mind have begun. But by the interposition of friends this feud was healed. The pope and the sculptor met at Bologna, and were recon- ciled. While residing at that place, Michael Angelo executed a bronze statue of the pontiff holding, as Julius himself desired, a sword, and not a crook, as he knew more of the one than of the other. But as the Bolognese disliked the pope, they seized upon the statue as soon as they were at liberty, melted it, cast it as a cannon, named it Julia, and so annoyed both Buonaroti and the pope. When the great sculptor returned to Rome, he was thwarted by the ealousy of another rival, Bramante, the architect, who persuaded Julius that it was ill-omened to prepare his own tomb, and so impeded Michael Angelo's operations. Moreover, the same jealousy contrived to in- duce the pope to employ the sculptor in painting the Sistine Chapel in fresco, and that in the hope that Buonaroti would fail in that department, so as to diminish his influence in others. He struggled hard to escape from such a task, and be allowed to continue his congenial work upon the monu- ment of Julius. But the impatient pope had set his heart upon seeing his new Chapel painted. The monument can wait ; the frescoes must be executed, and Buonaroti must submit with what grace he can. His demands for money had been troublesome; his manner was too unbending or decided to suit the liking of one who was surrounded by sycophants and adored as a God ; but the weak must suc- cumb to the strong. When the work became inevitable, Michael Angelo was not the man to do it by halves. He gave himself to it with all his heart, and began by inventing a new mode of scaffolding, 410 A TRIUMPH. He had, in truth, to learn the art of fresco-painting, where the colours are laid upon damp plaster so as to penetrate the substance, instead of merely decorating the surface, and he encountered many difficulties in executing the task; but they were surmounted by a strong will, and an indomit- able genius. The pope hovered constantly about him, urging forward the work, impatient as a child for a new toy. Even the impetuosity with which Buonaroti wrought was scarcely a match for the anxiety of a self-willed old man, as resolute in his sphere as the painter was in his. But when the day of unveiling came, the artist's triumph was com- plete. The mean jealousy of rivals had overshot their mark, and he became as distinguished as a painter as he had for- merly been first among sculptors. In spite of some at- tempts to persuade the pope to set him aside, he was em- ployed to complete the painting of the ChapeL Indeed, so impatient was Julius to see the work finished, that he once threatened to throw the artist from the scaffold if it were not speedily completed. And yet it was never finished. At the end of twenty months, the pope insisted on per- forming high mass in the chapeL The scaffolding was re- moved, and Buonaroti refused to resume his labours. But only the half of his difficulties as an unwilling painter in fresco has been named. He had called in the aid of some painters from Florence, but they could not em- body his grand conceptions, and he undertook the work him- self. His first step was to destroy all that his assistants had done, and his next was to lock himself up in the Chapel, and proceed, as none but such a man could do, without ask- ing help or tolerating trouble. He had at this stage to be his own master ; but had not proceeded far with his first compartment when he saw the whole defaced by the damp- ness of the wall. He was disconcerted at the discovery, and hoped that the pope would now free him from his task- LEOX. 411 work ; but he must proceed. By a skill as great as his re- solution was unmoveable, he triumphed over all his diffi- culties. Writhing in mental pain, under a complication of adverse events, he yet rose buoyantly above them ; and the appalling frescoes still remain as if embodying the struggles of his own vast genius. It is no part of our design to offer any opinion here re- garding this stupendous production. Enough to say that of part of it, at least, the opinion is on record that it is " the finest group, ancient or modern, ever designed." But it is not difficult to imagine the fever and the fret of that majes- tic mind as it struggled with difficulties, or warded off the attacks of envy, while, at the same time, it was chafed by the choleric importunity of a restless old man. Julius, indeed, had a great favour for Michael Angelo, but he not seldom treated his favourite with harshness, with insolence, and caprice. Indeed, the artist was disgraced again and again. He could ill brook the impatience which stung him so often ; and as he sometimes resented the indignities which he re- ceived, he had to suffer for his independence. Not a single case is known in which a genius so colossal was so habitually fretted and annoyed by the importunities or the cross-pur- poses of weakness. The pope's death drew near. Michael Angelo was in- structed to complete the tomb so often interrupted, but on a diminished scale. He was again thwarted, however. Julius died ; Leo X. succeeded, and he requested the sculptor to proceed to Florence to finish one of the churches there. The will of a new pope was law, and once more Buonaroti was separated from the great work on which his heart was set. Even in tears, he proceeded to Carrara to procure marble for his new task, and there again troubles and crosses befell. Nay, during the entire reign of Leo X., or about eight years and a half, this admirable man, whose genius was equal to 412 OPPOSITION. any result which Art could undertake, was employed upon works which an ordinary mason could have performed perhaps as well as he. He had to superintend the process of quarrying, and even to make roads to the quarries. He was frequently at war with the agents of the pope for funds to cany on the work ; and with one so gifted as Michael Angelo, and at the same time so conscious of his powers, it is marvellous that he bore with such galling or such petty harassments. He was once much pressed by Julius II. to undertake a work which he was determined not to perform, and resolutely exclaimed, "No, never. That is employment fit only for idle persons or women," and he might often have used the same language when em- ployed by Leo X. Michael Angelo's troubles increased with his days, as in the case of weaker men. The Duke of Urbino, nephew to Julius II., was fretted by the delay in completing his uncle's tomb, and called the great artist to account for large sums of money alleged to have been advanced to him. It was afterwards made plain that the charge was groundless; but the high-minded sculptor, who had been oppressed by a pope, and unjustly pursued by a duke, found no rest for his weary soul. The Duke of Florence interfered, but only to retain Michael Angelo in his own power for his own purposes ; so that one of those whom the Supreme had made a prince among men was made a mere pendant to those whom superstition had exalted, or birth made rich. He resorted to Rome to effect, if possible, an adjustment; but the feeble Clement VII.. who was now pope, was taken prisoner by the Constable Bourbon, and the following is the dreary account of Buona- roti about this period : " Up to this time he had only to contend with the perversity and injustice of his patrons, and the jealousy and opposition of his rivals ; in addition THE " HOLY STAIRS." 413 to these he now found himself involved in the troubles of contending parties, and without coming to any settlement with the Duke of Urbino, he determined again to leave Rome for Florence." ... Is he not like a general in the face of a pertinacious enemy ; or rather, is he not making good his title to rank among the gifted, by trials and endurance like those inflicted upon pilgrims on the way to some favourite shrine? He is like a man climbing the holy stairs at Rome one of the impostures by which men are duped in that city of superstition. Wars next arose among the Italian States. Florence was to be fortified, and Michael Angelo must be the military architect. It is new work, new danger, and a new trial. His darling pursuits were suspended ; but during the siege the patriot displayed as much skill as the painter had mani- fested genius. Doubting the good faith of some of the be- sieged, he took precautions against that danger. But here again he was thwarted, and withdrew from the city. He was treated there with contumely, and as he saw no prospect of benefiting his country, he was compelled for these rea- sons to withdraw. But the men who had treated Buonaroti with contempt could not dispense with his services, and he was invited to return. Reparation was offered for the indignities to which he had been subjected, and he removed from Venice to take his place once more among his townsmen. But Florence fell at length, and the great architect was obliged to be con- cealed for some time in the Campanile of one of the churches to escape from the fury of the pope. When he came forth from his hiding-place, his safety was guaranteed only on condition that he should finish some monument which that pope the imbecile Clement VII. was eagerly bent on see- ing completed. Again, however, the Duke of Urbino was loading the 414 THE PRICE OF CELEBRITY. sculptor with unjust reproaches for his delay regarding the tomb of Julius. Change after change was introduced; indeed the whole plan of the monument was recast ; and after much vexation and unjust treatment, a compromise was made, according to which Michael Angfelo was to work for four months of the year at Florence, and the other eight at Rome. It was as if he had actually been the serf of those men a chattel; and instead of being free to choose for him- self, his time, his energy, his genius were let out, by a dire necessity, at the dictation of what was to him a grinding despotism. Few men ever paid so high a price for celebrity as Michael Angelo did. Nor was this sore discipline as yet near a close. Pope Clement gave the artist one set of orders which he was obliged to obey. But the pope died before they were fully executed, and Michael Angelo gladly hastened to his ever favourite work, the monument of Julius. But another cross was in store for him. Paul III., the next pope, wished to take possession of him, as if he had been private property ; and when the artist pled a contract to finish the monument, the self-willed Paul demanded that document, and declared that he would " tear it in pieces." His victim was com- pelled by this importunity to make arrangements for retiring to Urbino, there to work in peace ; but the pope would not suffer him thus to escape. He went in state to inspect the artist's works, and out of that visit there arose an arrange- ment with the Duke of Urbino, according to which Buona- roti was to supply only three statues for the tomb. Paul, accordingly, now got sole possession of the artist, and he returned to his work at the Vatican. At the age of seventy- five, he finished his last fresco there. A pension had pre- viously been settled on him by Paul ; and as the aged artist felt that he was not what he had been, he longed to be set free from such works as those which had long wearied and DISTRACTIONS. 415 harassed him. His rivalry with Da Vinci the competing claims of successive popes, six, or seven of whom he had served the haughtiness and injustice of the Duke of Urbino; and perhaps above all, the uncongenial work of painting in fresco, had gone far to add discomfort, or even misery, to a career so renowned. Nor was it, perhaps, the least of his sorrows to witness that decline in Art which had begun even while he was unfolding the grandest of all the styles. But though now advanced in years, Buonaroti was not near his rest. On the contrary, he is just about to enter on a new, a vexatious, yet triumphant career. In sculpture he was beyond challenge the first ; in painting he was, in some respects, as unquestionably foremost ; but now he is to erect his own monument in the construction of St. Peter's. That building had been in progress for more than forty years. Bramante, Raphael, San Gallo, his uncle, and Giacondo da Verona had all been employed upon the structure ; but for Michael Angelo was reserved the honour of completing it. Yet this honour also was to be purchased at a great price. As soon as he was appointed architect, detraction began. Insinuations against him were poured by his enemies into the ears of Julius III.; and though that pope sought to be- friend him, his detractors pursued their measures with most determined hostility. A committee of architects was ap- pointed to inspect his work. Objections the most frivolous, dictated by ignorance which was very profound, now galled the still ardent old man. Every step he took seemed to be a woe. He had to appeal to the pope amid his crosses, and on one occasion exclaimed, " Holy father, you see what I gain. If the machinations to which I am exposed be not for my spiritual welfare, I am losing both my time and my labour." These enemies succeeded, however, in displacing Michael 416 FRESH ANTAGONISM. Angelo from another work which he had begun the build- ing of a bridge across the Tiber. An incompetent, and more time-serving architect was employed; but the fall of the structure was predicted by the discarded one, and in five years the prophecy was fulfilled : the Ponte Rotto still attests the ignorance of the adversaries of Michael Angelo. The caprice, or the despotism of popes of aged men ad- vanced to power at a period of life which compelled them to make the most of their time, was not enough. The genius of the great artist must be further annoyed by the rival pretensions of inferior men. At one time neglected, at another overtasked hugged to-day and to-morrow threatened to be thrown from a scaffold these were the vicissitudes through which he had to pass in his triumphant, yet much tried career. The last woe, however, was the heaviest. Cardinal Cervino had long been the declared antagonist of our artist. He had thwarted him, injured him, plotted against him, and when at length he became pope, as Marcellus II., in 1555, Michael Angelo had to en- counter the open and undisguised opposition of the despot- priest. He even determined to leave Rome, but the sudden death of his mitred enemy altered his purpose. Paul IV. was next elected pope; but he had few sym- pathies in common with Michael Angelo, and accordingly deprived him of the chancellorship of Rimini without assigning any reason. But the culmination of the artist's grief was occasioned by this pope's proposal to white- wash the walls of the Sistine Chapel, and so efface the frescoes which adorned it. Amid such chafing incidents he determined to withdraw from Rome, and sought rest for his jaded mind amid the wild scenes around Spoleto. He benefited by his retirement there, but his return to Rome was the signal for fresh annoyances. Indeed, he seems to have been one of those whom trouble follows M. ANGELO'S RELIGION. 417 as a shadow. It was the antidote, or the alloy of his greatness. "When Michael Angelo undertook to finish the building of St. Peter's, he did it avowedly upon religious grounds ; and this may introduce a view of his religion. Of course, he was a Romanist, and entirely devoted to the creed of the popes. It is probable that the errors which lie at the root of their system prompted the undertaking it was perhaps a work of merit. But, however that may be, he would not be moved from the twofold condition on which he accepted the office of architect ; first, to superintend the work with- out fee, and secondly, to do so from a principle of devo- tion. Carrying out his purpose, he returned a hundred golden crowns, the salary for a month, which the pope sent to him ; and though the artist thus incurred the anger of the pontiff, he was not to be moved from his purpose he " worked for the love of God." But Buonaroti was a man of deep thought, as well as of lofty genius ; and there is reason to believe that long ere his life drew near its close, eternity had been much in his mind. Even to hoary hairs, his antagonists continued to treat him with superciliousness, and his very assistant at St. Peter's thought himself at liberty to act in that spirit towards the greatest genius of his age. In truth, Michael Angelo had become disgusted with some of the pursuits which had once enchained him, and was roused to indignation when he saw the liberties which some took with his plans. Even while solemnly meditating on the close of his earthly pil- grimage, he was thus harassed; and if he had not been borne up by the conviction that he was doing what he deemed a duty, his life would now have been a dreary one. His nature was loving and tender ; his friends clung to him with a fond tenacity ; and when the closing scenes of such a man were beclouded or embittered, as Buonaroti's were, we 418 ENCOMIUMS. read in the whole a significant comment on the troubles to which man is born. " Many people say I am a child again " "I should esteem it a most kind office if you would lay these my feeble bones near those of my father;" were some of the sad words with which this man ap- proached the tomb. A great artist in our country could say, " I feel a self-congratulation in knowing myself capable of such sensations as he intended to excite, .... and I should desire that the last words which I should pronounce .... from this place might be the name of Michael Angelo."* Another could say still more strongly, " I bless God that I live in the times of Michael Angelo." But, notwithstanding, he passed on to the narrow house amid crowding annoyances from a hostile faction ; and the spirit which prompted them followed him even across the line which separates the seen from the unseen, the living from the dead. It was not criticism it was vituperation that sometimes assailed his memory. Pius IV. had become pope in time to cheer the declining days of his greatest subject. It was the artist's expressed de- termination to " employ his abilities to the honour of God ; " and though his enemies continued rancorous to the last, he resolutely resisted their aggressions. Though he was now too feeble to contend in person, his plans and principles were upheld by his friends, till, after making his Will, and resigning his soul to God, he passed away on the 23d day of February, 1563. He closed that brief but solemn deed with an exhortation to his friends " to remember, in their journey through life, the sufferings of Jesus Christ." If these were his hope and stay, we understand the secret of his strength in repelling the assaults of so many. While many make the love of Art an idolatry, it may be interesting to know the estimate which Michael Angelo Sir J. Reynolds. ETERNITY. 419 formed of it, when death and eternity were near. That may be distinctly ascertained from one of his sonnets, which gives no uncertain sound regarding this vital point. When glancing across the narrow strait between time and eternity, he says, "Well I know How vain will then appear that favoured Art, Sole idol long, and monarch of my heart, For all is vain that man desires below. And now remorseful thoughts the past upbraid, And fear of twofold death my soul alarms, That which must come, and that beyond the grave; Picture and sculpture lose their feeble charms, And to that Love Divine I turn for aid, Who from the cross extends His arms to save." As this is not a biography, little has been said of this artist's habits, except as he had to struggle with difficulties. His generosity was remarkable ; for example, on one occasion he gave his servant 2000 crowns, to save him from the necessity of entering the service of another at his master's death. And one of his friends has recorded that he never heard him speak in any way which did not tend to repress and extinguish all that is lawless and impure. His views of human life, and its grand ulterior, were as lofty as his genius ; while his poetry is placed side by side with that of some of the most gifted men of his day. But it is first, in his ardent struggles for greatness as an artist, and then in the persistency with which he upheld what he had reached, that he is here presented. "The Homer of sculpture;" " The salt of Art," as he has been called, had to struggle like other men through all his nine and eighty years. Though one not much accustomed to praise has said, that "the world has many kings, but only one Michael Angelo," yet all did not save him from the onset of rivalry, or the struggles of life. And if it was thus even with him, who need wonder at the contests, the falls, or the disappoint- ments which meet its in the upward way 1 If the man who has been likened to Dante, and Tasso, endured such con- tumely, such injustice, such despotism, does any strange thing happen when we are crossed, impeded, thwarted, in pursuing the good and the pure ? Nay, applying to himself a portion of one of his sonnets on Dante, we may close with our eye resting on his memory, as that at once of a model and a beacon : " How shall we speak of him ; for our blind eyes Are all unequal to the dazzling rays? Easier it is to blame his enemies Than for the tongue to tell his lightest praise." In one sentence, Michael Angelo would not submit to the haughty dictation of ignorant men, and therefore he must suffer. He would not forego the free use of his great powers, and again he must suffer. He would not bow before baseness, or act as if meanness were honourable, and once more, nay, through all his life, he had to suffer. His progress was signally by antagonism. Not a few of his triumphs had to be wrung from envy. III. BERNARD PALISSY. 1510-1589. " And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy; Deep thought oft seemed to fix his infant eye. Dainties he heeded not, nor gaud, nor toy, Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy: Silent when glad, affectionate though shy; And now his look was most demurely sad, And now he laughed aloud, and none knew why- The neighbours stared and sighed, yet blessed the lad; Some deemed him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad BEATTIE. Michael Angelo Palissy's birth-Early habits- Selects a pursuit- Follows It- Poverty presses Failures multiply Indomitable perseverance Fresh efforts And failures Resolution still unbroken New perplexities encountered And mastered His children die The attributes of genius Streaks of light- Duke de Montmorency Palissy's studies His philosophy Removes to Paris Successes there His religious life Persecution Imprisoned at Bourdeaux Set free The Massacre of St Bartholomew Palissy escapes Continues his works And holds fast the truth Is cast into the Bastile Visited there by the king Is left in prison Dies there De Lamartine's opinion of him Du- mesnil's Conclusion. j|T is said that Michael Angelo, in his studio, often wrought, as a sculptor, with the impetuosity of a man impassioned. A block of marble stood before him, and in his mind he had formed the ideal accord- ing to which it was to be chiselled; but as the unfeeling material was slow to body forth what the artist so vividly saw, and so laboriously strove to create, his efforts were at times fiercely violent. Some of his statues are said to bear the marks of this violence, in overdone blows and con- sequent blemishes. His efforts, when seventy years of age, still surpassed those of youthful artists ; and the vehemence of his labours, urged by the vividness of his perceptions, (20) 27 422 A PILGRIM. carried him onward over difficulties where feebler men would have sunk In consequence of this, Michael Angelo's grandeur of soul appears equally in his statues and his frescoes. He is vast and majestic, though sometimes rugged ; and a kind of awe still accompanies the works of his hands, or takes possession of the mind, while we gaze upon them. And we are now to study the life-work of one who, in some respects, resembled Michael Angelo. He was a man of lowly birth, and lived as a peasant for half his lifetime ; but genius, and the power to sacrifice self-indulgence for the sake of the useful or the good, are not confined to rank ; and though he who is now to supply us with a model was both humble and poor, he yet takes his place far up among the true heroes of humanity. He was one of the men who stand before princes, and overtop the most of them. BERNARD PALISSY was born about the year 1510, at La Chapelle Biron, in Perigord, and of parents so poor that his scholarship included only reading and writing. To these acquirements he subsequently added some knowledge of geometry and architecture ; but too little is known regarding his youth to enable us to indicate the stages of his acquire- ments, or rather the depths of his neglect. After serving an apprenticeship to the trade of glass making, some say of pottery, he became a travelling work- man for nine or ten years. He resided for some time at Tarbes, among the Pyrenees, and there acquired, or nurtured, that rapturous love of nature which guided him all through life; there, also, he received impressions regarding the religion of the Scriptures, which were then becoming known again, which occasioned both sorrow and joy through the long period of his pilgrimage. Palissy visited Flanders, Germany, France, and other countries, gathering knowledge as he journeyed from every available source from quarries, from mines, from natural caves, from river banks, from GENIUS AWAKENED. 423 forests. The slight notices which are recorded of such ex- plorings are somewhat like hints gathered on a modern geological tour, though they refer to three centuries ago and more. His school was nature, his master was experience ; and, amid his industrious scrutiny, he was in training for something more than the work of a glassmaker. About the year 1538 or 1539, Palissy settled at Saintes, in the district of Saintonge, on the Charente, a town which was then somewhat famous chiefly in its ecclesiastical rela- tions. He was at that time about thirty years of age, and was employed in various ways as a painter, a glassmaker, and otherwise, as opportunity served or necessity compelled him, for he was poor, and as he was now married, he had a family to support. Indeed, about this period in his history, Palissy had much to depress him, much to gall and chafe a mind so restless and progressive as his. As his family in- creased, his work, or its remuneration, did not increase in the same proportion, and he began to be in straits. The picture of these is touching, but it was in the midst of them that he entered on the work which was to signalize him. Palissy, then, had felt the pressure of poverty, but while in that condition an article of vertu in enamel happened to at- tract his notice. The art of enamelling in the style of that article was then unknown ; it had been lost ; and it occurred to Palissy that if he could re-discover it, the knowledge of such a secret would raise him above difficulties, or turn his poverty into a competence. He resolved at least to attempt it, and from that resolution arose not a few both of his troubles and his triumphs, his sorrows and his j oys. In truth, that discovery became the pole-star or the helm of his whole career as a workman, so that in this man's case, we see another example of what has happened in ten thousand others the germ of great things lodged in the mind by some little or some trivial incident. It is the acorn just planted. It is the little 424 A SELF-TAUGHT MAN. rill just welling up from the earth, and hastening to form a majestic river. It is the little child just born, but soon to occupy a throne, and influence the destiny of empires. But when Palissy's choice of a pursuit was thus made, few would have supposed that it would end where it did in raising him to greatness. Yet it did so, in the hands of One who sees the end from the beginning. Experiments had to be commenced in a manner which appears almost hopeless, even after we see those efforts crowned with success. Palissy, we have seen, wished to restore the art of enamelling, but he had no furnaces, and no knowledge of colours, in their chemical properties. Neither had he the means of purchas- ing what he needed even for the wants of his home, and still less for his new undertaking. He was not, however, a man to be daunted by difficulties. He had chosen his path, and against a thousand obstacles he would persevere. He was entirely a self-taught man, and his very efforts to in- struct himself made him invincible, while the failures which he had to encounter developed a patience which never wearied. Though his sacrifices and toils were long unre- warded, he persisted in what he felt he could accomplish; and his perseverance ended in a triumphant success. He hoped and laboured, and laboured and hoped. For sixteen weary years that was his manner of life, and one of his biographers * thus sums up his condition : " To prose- cute his new art, he must know the different kinds of clay, he must be taught to construct furnaces, he must learn chemistry with his teeth, that is to say, he must subject himself to cruel privations, approaching the want of daily bread ; he must be prodigal of his vigils, of his money, and his health. If he be disappointed in trial after trial, he must yet take courage at the least gleam of success, and at last having wearied fortune, after sixteen years of strug- * BERNARD PALISST, Le Potter de Terrt, par ALFRED DUXESNIL. THE SAFE GUIDE-BOOK. 425 gling and of anguish, he will create the art of enamelling earthenware in colours." Such is, in truth, the programme of his life. Palissy's manly energy was equalled by the accuracy of his study. Urged on by an insatiable thirst for knowing, he examined with exhaustive care the minutest thing that came under his notice, for example, the structure of an in- sect's wing, or the tints and tracery of the smallest flower. In the spirit of the Bible which he loved, it was Bernard's 'oy to walk with God in nature, and trace a Father's hand in all the forms of beauty. This poor man was consequently rich in joy, though sorrow after sorrow had to be faced ere he could command even his daily bread. He was, however, indomitable, and failure in one instance only taught him a wiser precaution or more determined perseverance in the next. But all this is too vague. Examples will best exhibit the skill and the energy of Palissy. His first aim was to effect a perfectly white enamel, and in seeking it, months rolled away, and years followed, with- out success ; indeed, failure just crowded upon failure. At the same time, his domestic sorrows thickened ; care kept tugging at his heart strings; but as he had read in his favourite book that God called men of old to devise curious works in gold, and silver, and precious stones, our potter trusted that a similar blessing was in store for him, and laboured on in hope. When his resources were utterly exhausted and more, he was employed to survey a district near Saiutonge, in connection with a tax upon salt, which the Government of France designed to impose on those parts where that article was made. That work occupied Palissy for about a year; and with the money which he was able to treasure up he returned to his search after a white enamel with an eagerness which was augmented bj 426 RUIN IMMINENT. delay. He had formerly employed a common potter's fur- nace, but he now had recourse to the furnace of a glasswork, as supplying a more concentrated heat, and for two years and a half did that persistent man travel to and fro to tend his work there, in the hope of seeing the art of enamelling at length re-discovered. He was on the eve of losing hope, when out of about three hundred articles which he had placed in the furnace, one was really found to be covered with something like the desired enamel, after an exposure of about four hours to the heat. " That caused me such joy," he says, " that I thought I had become a new being," and this glimpse of success furnished a new stimulus to hope. But Palissy was precipitate in his conclusion. He was ignorant still of the proportions which were needed to secure a repetition of the happy experiment. It had been rudely made with merely broken bits of pottery, and he now formed earthen vessels with a view to repeat his process. He built a furnace for himself like those of the glassmakers, and had to be his own mason, his own plasterer, and his own water- carrier. He had even to transport bricks on his own back, as he had not the means of employing any one to aid him ; and seven or eight weary months were thus employed by this indefatigable man. For another month he was busy preparing the vessels which he hoped to enamel in his new furnace. For six days and six nights he kept the heat aglow, but no enamel appeared, and Palissy was reduced to despair. He proceeded, however, to rectify what he supposed was wrong in the proportions of his enamelling matter, and keeping his furnace still glowing, he prepared other vessels to be passed through his process. But wood failed. He burned the paling of his garden ; to that he added the tables and the flooring of his house, but his own words must de- scribe his condition at this stage : " Such was my anguish," he records, " that I know not how to describe it ; I was quite THE STRONG TOWEE. 427 exhausted and withered up by my toil, and the heat of the furnace. For more than a month, my shirt had never been dry, and yet for my consolation, I had only mockery ; even those who should have aided me proclaimed over the town that I had burned the wood of my house. Others said that I was coining base money, an evil which made me pine away upon my feet, and I walked the street downcast, like one ashamed." He was himself in a furnace side by side with his enamel, and might have sat to him who said : " We know the arduous strife, the eternal laws To which the triumph of all good is given, High sacrifice, and labour without pause Even unto death; else wherefore should the eye Of man converse with immortality ? " But Palissy knew of a strong tower. After rallying a little, and with some glimpses of success, he soliloquised thus : " Why be cast down when thou hast already once found the object of thy search? Work on, and shame thy detractors." At the same time this heroism had one bitter alloy. He was utterly destitute of funds : nay, he was in debt. He had a wife and children to maintain, and four or five months must still elapse ere any profit could result from his labour. A ray of hope, however, again revived him. From a friend he obtained means to employ a workman, and for six months more they toiled and laboured together at their task, but Palissy had then to dismiss his assistant, and to drudge again alone. He had, moreover, to demolish the former furnace, and construct a new one, as well as to pro- cure materials for fresh enamels. He ground them in a mill which would have required the force of two strong men to turn it, but earnestness gave him energy. Like Michael Angelo, he wrought with violent impetuosity, and he is on the way to success : such sacrifices cannot be lost. If the art of enamelling be discoverable, this man will discover it His trials, however, are very far from being over. His 428 NEW TRIALS. determination has been tested by delays, by poverty, by ridi- cule, by charges of madness, and other forms of slander. In defence of his plans he had to brave every species of anta- gonism that could reach him in such a sphere as his ; and such were the effects of his toil, increased by these assaults, that he became so wasted and haggard amid his opera- tions, that his clothes would not suit his meagre, emaciated frame. Still, however, if this earnest man is to extort one secret more from Nature, he must himself be further tested ; and, accordingly, renewed failures were before him. In building his furnace some pieces of flint had been mixed with the lime. Under a strong heat the flint exploded with violence, and the result was that much of Palissy's enamel was utterly destroyed when just about to take effect. As the pieces thus damaged were numerous, the disaster was like an utter overthrow. it seemed to extinguish hope for ever. The furnace had cost him one hundred and twenty crowns. He had borrowed the means of procuring the wood, and the matter which made the enamels. He had lived upon credit during this one trial more, and led his credi- tors to hope that all would be paid by the present batch. They, accordingly, hastened to him as soon as he began to draw the articles from the furnace; but all was blank disap- pointment to them, and confusion to him. Never was poor man more completely struck down. The object which ap- peared to be within his grasp has vanished, perhaps for ever, and even hope for a time forsook him. Yet not for long ; Bernard Palissy was not to be driven ^from his pursuit. On the contrary, he would resume it yet again. Some of his neighbours wished to purchase the damaged articles at a diminished price. But, needy as he was, he regarded that as sure to bring a stain upon his honour ; he, therefore, broke the whole in pieces, and took to bed in moody chagrin. He had not the means of sup- MANIFOLD IMPEDIMENTS. 429 porting his family. At home he encountered only reproaches ; instead of comfort, he received maledictions. His neigh- bours called him a fool ; his sorrow reached a crisis ; for a time he was ready to succumb, and not without reason. He recollected, however, and he tells his own story with characteristic simplicity, that if a man has fallen into a ditch, his first duty is to get out of it ; and, acting on that conviction, Palissy rose from his bed of sorrow ; he com- menced some paintings ; sold them ; raised a little money by the sale, and began with fresh ardour to attempt the work of enamelling. Learning wisdom from his past failures, he was now careful in defending the articles from such accidents as had already disappointed his hopes, by the explosion of flints, and other causes. Trials, however, still befell. His enamelled articles were either too much or too little baked in the furnace. On one side the enamel was right, on the other it was wrong, so that he had to battle with disappoint- ments for many weary years. " When I learned," he says, "to guard against one danger, another came which I had never thought of. Sadness and sighs were my portion." His ignorance of chemistry was a fruitful source of Palissy's disappointments, and before he surmoxmted that difficulty, he says that he felt like one at the gates of death. One colour he could have enamelled; but how to enamel green, blue, yellow, white, all at once, perplexed him to agitation. At the same time, the continued poverty of his condition, the ridicule of his townsmen, and the murmurs of those whom he loved, enhanced his grief; and as he wandered among the meadows around Saintes, he was one of the most abject or forlorn of men, though on the eve of a great dis- covery, nay, though in effect he had already made it. Never in a sphere so humble and so poor as Palissy's, was a more memorable example seen of the throes and the anguish which are needed to work out any good in our distempered 430 ABUNDANT SUCCESS. world. True, some of his enamelled works, his rustic pieces and his statuettes, began to be admired ; he had discovered not merely a white, but, moreover, a jasper enamel ; but all the money which he acquired by these means was absorbed in pushing forward his experiments ; in extorting new secrets which might have continued unknown for ages more, had it not been for his genius and his resistless enterprise. Sar- casms were heaped upon him ; he was steeped in poverty ; yet he laboured on, and so indomitable was he that if he fail, it must be when he falls into the grave. He toiled on, then ; he tried ; he failed ; and tried again. In tending the operations of the furnace, Palissy was some- times exposed for whole nights, without shelter, to the rain and the storm. He had no help and no sympathy, and heard only the screech-owl on the one side, and howling dogs on the other. At times he was driven from the fur- naces by the tempest, so that his labour was lost ; and when he retired to rest on these occasions, at midnight or at day- break, he was drenched like one who had been dragged through the mire of the streets. His grief and his toils sometimes made him stagger like one who was intoxicated, while in the retirement of his home he encountered an op- position from those whose means of support he was consum- ing in his furnace, far worse to bear than the hostility of his neighbours. It was natural that those whose comforts he was abridging, or indefinitely postponing, should murmur against him, and he felt it acutely, yet still held on his way. And indomitable resolution like that of Bernard Palissy, when directed to a right object, commands success, and de- serves it. He was teaching men to experiment; he was manifesting the force of persistent labour, and of manly courage amid trials, and the long deferred event was perfect success. He was in quest of a white enamel and nothing more at first ; but his discoveries overpassed his aims en- HOME-GRIEFS. 431 amelling in colours, and a wide-spread influence for good constituted his reward at length. It was toil, agony, priva- tion, persecution, leading, as ever, to triumph, when the Supreme Wisdom presides over all The enterprise of Palissy, though conducted in poverty, and amid screeching owls, and howling dogs, and descending torrents, was the real pathway to success, rugged at the outset, but opening into prospects which become both green and goodly as we ad- vance. It were wrong, however, not to record the guiding maxim of this suffering man. There were some, he said, who would not let the Holy Scriptures be named ; but as for him, he found nothing better than to follow the counsels of God. In consulting the Sovereign Will, Palissy learned that He had commanded his people to eat their bread in the sweat of their brows, and to multiply the talents with which they were intrusted. The potter of Saintes read these things ; he obeyed them ; and the God whom he con- sulted did not leave him to shame. During his experiments and struggles, Palissy lost some of his children, and that added to his woes. No fewer than six of them were laid in the grave ; and as some of his most exquisite productions were modelled from the doings of his little ones, whom he fondly loved, the anguish occasioned by their death, added to his other griefs, at once pierced and crushed his spirit. But in spite even of such trials he persevered. His success had been such as to cheer at least his ardent mind, and he continued to experiment with a firmness of will which carried him over every obstacle. It is the attribute of genius to rise with the difficulties which it encounters. Bruce penetrated to the fountains of the Nile, in spite of a thousand gainsayers. Watt per- severed with his discoveries against hordes of opponents. Kepler conjectured, failed, tried again, and succeeded ; and so in a thousand cases. Now Palissy deserves a place among 432 HOPE DEFERRED. these sons of genius. Indeed, his perseverance appears as the very chivalry of invention. One so lowly and obscure, with a heart so fixed, yet encountering hardships unutterable in the pursuit of Nature's secrets, may surely be pointed out as at once a model and an encouragement. He saw that all God's creatures wrought, and so would he. Ocean, earth, and air, the rivers, the mountains, the valleys, all fulfil their allotted task, all were active night and day, and shall man alone be indolent ? Palissy would not. One friend or two came to cheer him amid his long struggles ; but "he dwelt for the most part alone ; and though he did now cherish hope, it was a hope deferred which often made his heart sick. Still the visions of his mind began to be embodied in the fabrications of his hand, and he, so far, rejoiced. But we now approach the period when light began to streak the path of Palissy. In the ducal family of Mont- morency, more than one red-handed persecutor have been found, but that did not prevent them from being patrons of the arts. The duke of that day, though a stern, remorseless bigot, was led to admire some of the productions of Palissy. That Constable-duke was employed in quelling a tumult in Saintonge occasioned by the oppressive tax imposed upon salt. While visiting at a mansion where Palissy was at work, he admired the potter's handiwork, contracted an affection for his person, and now the struggling man has succeeded. The persecutor who, without compunction, ordered his victims to the gibbet or the wheel, has actually become the patron and protector of Palissy, whom he em- ployed to decorate one of his castles, that of Ecouen, about four leagues from Paris. Some of Palissy's labours there are still preserved, and both in the chapel and the galleries of the castle, the effects are described as brilliant beyond aught that had been previously accomplished ; they rival the richest of modern productions. The sufferings of the Saviour POVERTY AND ITS TRAIN. 433 through their different stages, were represented in sixteen pictures, of which only engravings remain ; but the taste and beauty of the whole are described as exquisite. A fountain of rustic work was also constructed by Palissy, adorned with ornaments derived from the neighbourhood in which his taste was formed. The animals which sported there were frogs, lizards, serpents, fish, and similar creatures,* and these he enlisted strangely but beautifully as decora- tions. But as a devout Huguenot, Palissy took advantage of the structure to point men to a nobler fountain by far. In stones of various colours he placed conspicuously upon a rustic frieze the words, " Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters !" The word of his God was then a sealed book, but a portion of it was open enough there. For sixteen years, then, this man of firm will has struggled against obstacles in nearly every form that could assail him. Deep in his own mind the conviction was rooted that he could accomplish a certain result. That object was ever- more before him, now appearing to be near and anon far away, but never lost sight of; and he now began to dis- cover that in all labour there is profit ; it became manifest that no sacrifice, when guided by right motives, and directed to a right aim, is ever lost. The man who had sacrificed everything he could command to one darling pursuit, who had passed whole months alone beside his furnace, whose garments were at one time never dry for weeks together, who had lived and laboured at the mercy of wind and rain, of sarcasm and sneer, of poverty and all its sable followers, * " Nature gave all their freshness to these works ; for Palissy seized as they passed the impressions which she made. Thus, upon Ills manufactures, it was the Ivy which crept around the walls ; it was a cray-flsh extending its long feel- ers which formed the cover of a dish ; the handle was a lizard which contracts itself as it climbs. In many basins, reptiles lie in the centre upon a bed of sand, separated by shells, while all around, amid living water, fishes swim ; on the margin, lizards and tortoises creep or lodge amid ferns and marine plants." DumctnU. 434 IN ALL LABOUB THERE IS PEOFIT. triumphed at last over them all, till lie became celebrated for his handiworks. The taste displayed, the peculiarity of their structure, and the inimitable beauty which signalized them, placed them, we have seen, among the chief orna- ments of some of the French castles. Specimens are still to be found in some of the galleries of Paris; for example, in the Louvre, and the Museum de Cluny ; and they are so beautiful and unique that they are said to be worth their weight in gold. In all labour, we repeat, there is profit ; and Palissy began to feel the force of the truth. A sentence may describe the elements of beauty which rendered Palissy's ware so attractive. Wherever he wandered he studied. No object to which he had access escaped his scrutiny. A flower, a fish, a lizard the inhabitants of the marshes near his home, the very pariahs of zoology, un- seemly to others, but clothed in beauty for him were the objects which he copied. Eocks, rivers, seas, meadows, and forests, as we have already remarked, had long been Palissy's study; and these he transferred to his enamels, till they seemed instinct with life itself. The admiration of such things, no doubt, buoyed him up during many an hour of sadness, and his imitation of them at length became a marvel He had the figure of a dog so perfectly imitated that other dogs sometimes approached it, where it stood in his workshop, as a live one, and some of his other triumphs were similar. Nor was Palissy merely an artist ; he was at the same time a philosopher, and some of his views in geology antici- pated the findings of the modern investigations. Besides that science, botany, chemistry, agriculture, and other branches were studied by this toil-worn man, whose intrepid soul refused to succumb to a thousand difficulties. He found the book of Nature lying wide open before him, invit- ing the study of all Not a leaf, not a line was there which THE DIGNITY OF LABOUR. 435 had not beauty in it. Palissy read ; he seized the treasure, and with it in his possession, took his place among the master minds of the past. He was now in circumstances for removing to Paris, and was there engaged to decorate some of the royal palaces. Catherine dei Medici, the Queen Mother, was then projecting the erection of the Tuilleries, and the man who was lately a struggling and despised operative, was commissioned to adorn them. His wife and six of his children were in the grave ; but he and two surviving sons lived and laboured at Paris for a period of at least ten years. They were years of terror, such as have rarely passed over any city ; but Palissy was as ardent now as when bent on discovering the art of enamelling. The Castles of Chaulves, of Nesles, of Reux, and other places were decorated by his taste. The orna- ments were sometimes grotesque, but they were of a beauty which was then unmatched. Statuettes, vases, tiles, plates, and other articles, in great profusion, were formed; and when purchasers are invited now to compete for some of these relics, the price which is sometimes paid would have amazed the man who strove so long without money, without friends, without everything but genius and hope, to discover the art which taught him how to make them. In his private cabinet he had amassed many scientific specimens, especially in mineralogy, and this helped him to become the precursor of some of the modern sciences. But take him all in all, and Palissy appears at once as a model and a marvel a model, because no difficulty daunted him, and a marvel, that one so long the victim of nearly every form of trial to which flesh is heir, rose triumphant over it alL Such are the men who enable their biographers to say, as one has said of Palissy, that their works form part of the wealth of monarchs, they help to ornament a kingdom. Some tell us now of the dig- nity of labour, and surely we have an example of it here. 436 A REIGN OF TERROR. But, hitherto, little has been said regarding this man's religion. A continuous narrative of his experiments, his failures, and success, has been submitted, and it is time to turn attention to what is greater still than Palissy's achieve- ments in art ; he was as remarkable for his sufferings in the one, as for his trials in connection with the other. About his time, the religion of the Scriptures, as opposed to that of Rome, had begun to demand attention from men. Calvin had at one time found an asylum in Saintonge, and others of the Reformers made their influence felt in the district. Mis- sionaries preached there. Philibert Hamelin, an early friend of Palissy, who spent some time at Geneva, became the evangelist of Saintonge, and the potter was not slow to wel- come the reviving truth. He became one of the hated Hugue- nots of France ; for his ardent soul rejoiced in the prospect of man's emancipation from the terrible bondage in which he had groaned for centuries. Amid perils not a few he helped to found a Reformed Church at Saintes, but persecution soon arose to scatter the infant community. It was dispersed by ruthless hands, and death for the truth's sake became rife. Women were stabbed in the act of praising God. Some tradesmen were broken on the wheel for their religion. It was a reign of terror ; and perhaps the second reign of that name in France, about two centuries later, was a fruit of the former. Palissy, however, was devoted, resolute, and fear- less as ever ; and eager still for the right, became himself a preacher. He knew the truth ; he felt compelled to spread it, and he did so at the hazard of his life. He even went so far as to remonstrate with the persecutors face to face. Friends were torn asunder the fires of persecution blazed, but he was just nerved the more firmly for his work " His protecting Chief and Captain, Jesus Christ," was his refuge and shelter ; and the devoted Palissy laboured and taught, with charac- teristic energy as if for life and death. Heavy irons, grated HOT PERSECUTION. 437 windows, dark dungeons, and death closing the vista had no terrors for such men they endured as seeing the In- visible ; and even when they died, they triumphed in their death as their Lord had done. Victim after victim was dragged to execution, most of them the personal friends of Palissy. Robin, the preacher of St. Denis, in the isle of Oleron ; Nicole, another preacher of the truth from the same neighbourhood ; and Girnosac, who also preached from time to time, were among the first to be sacrificed. Palissy was present when they defended their convictions against trucu- lent men ; but nothing could save them from condemnation to the flames. It was indeed "the beginning of sorrows" to the town of Saintes ; and after being there paraded in mock- ery and exposed to the gaze of crowds whom they could not address, for they were gagged, the three martyrs were thrown into prison till they could be sent to Bourdeaux. Robin escaped from prison, but his two companions perished in the flames. Such sights, we repeat, nerve men. They nerved Palissy. They have no power over the soul that is born from above. And the potter was not held inviolate by those men. He had the protection of the Duke of Montpensier, and of the Count de Larochefoucauld, as well as of some others ; but fanaticism was not to be appeased, and his workshop at Saintes was rudely broken up. Under shelter of the night, he was dragged from his prison to Bourdeaux, far from his powerful friends. His works were destroyed; all that religious hatred could dictate was done against him ; and it was only the interposition of some of the greatest names in France that saved him from a violent death such a death as some of his co-religionists had already faced for their convictions. He was favoured, not be- cause men were willing to uphold liberty of conscience, but because the French grandees needed Palissy to deco- (20) Oft 438 TRUE COURAGE. rate their castles : his enamels, not his faith, proved the means of safety. The Duke de Montmorency appealed in person to the queen mother on the persecuted man's behalf, and she procured his liberation because she was pre- paring to build another palace. He was appointed one of the king's artists, and that rank placed him beyond the power of the persecutors of Bourdeaux, who had him in their grasp at the time. He held, in their simplicity, the grand and Scriptural truths which are the medium of con- veying salvation into the soul, and because he did so he had been doomed to die ; but God had work for him to do, and he was rescued. When he removed to Paris the celebrity of Palissy grew great ; but he still held fast the truth,even amid the atrocities of St. Bartholomew's eve, when thousands of Protestants were butchered for their faith. He was absent from Paris at that time, executing a commission at Chaulves. His soul had thirsted for the truth amid the troubles which he had borne at Saintes, and, in spite of danger, he would not forego it even in Paris. Nay, wherever he found an opening he sought to spread it, and was as resolute in his faith as he had been indomitable amid difficulties of another kind. Supported as he was by that mighty though unseen power which trust in a Redeemer enlists, Palissy was dauntless ; the occupant of a throne, and the terrors of a scaffold were alike unavailing with him. He had been warned by some of his friends that his new religion would bring him into trouble, in spite of royal or of ducal protection ; but that could not alter the mind of such a man. He knew the effects of God's truth in his heart. He had witnessed its power upon the peasantry and people of Saintes, and he therefore held fast his integrity ; he would not let it go. In his own words, he " could better afford to be poor than to be damned;" "he would rather speak truth with a rustic A CONFESSOR. 439 tongue than lie in rhetoric." He, therefore, spoke the truth, and stood by all the consequences. Yet he was long spared. At times he gathered round him the elite of Paris, and put to the proof the views which he entertained on various scientific subjects; and these re^ unions are among the first on record the precursors of our Societies, and Institutes, and Schools. At the age of seventy he published the results of his studies in natural history, and thus, perhaps, retarded the evil day ; but his time to suffer came at last. His religion could no longer be tolerated in Paris, and the Bastile became his abode when he was about seventy-five years of age. A decree had been passed for- bidding the exercise of the Reformed religion, and giving its professors only the alternative of abjuration or exile Mothers were then torn from their children; multitudes were banished, but Palissy stood firm, and was therefore im- prisoned. Some of his friends were put to death, and he himself must have perished had it not been for the con- nivance secured by some of his friends in power. Even the king, Henry III., visited him in his cell, and strove to turn him from his steadfast purpose, but in vain. The potter of Saintes knew of a strength to which that king was a stranger ; and the seductive suggestions which were addressed to him were manfully repelled. Two of his companions in prison were soon to be burned, and the king reminded him of their doom; it might be Palissy's next. But still he was un- moved ; he told the king he would never bow the knee to images, and was as immovable as when he bore the pitiless storms beside his furnaces at Saintes. " I am ready to yield up my life for the glory of God," was his answer to the blinded monarch. " You say you feel pity for me. I should rather pity you, who confess that you will be compelled to give me up. This is not language for a king ; and neither you nor the Guises with all your people, shall compel me, 440 THE BASTILE. for I know how to die." It was the martyr's spirit. Had it been allowed free scope, it would have made the magnifi- cent empire of France the noblest in the world. But that spirit was stifled as far as mortals could, and from that day France has been, morally, among the basest of the nations. Palissy died in a cell of the Bastile, about the year 1590, after an imprisonment of three or four years, and when he must have been about eighty years of age. D'Aubigne says, that he died " of misery, want, and cruel treatment." Such was the life of one who has been called the patri- arch of the workshop. It is a life which shows that every- thing is possible to firmness of will, when guided by right principle, and directed to right ends. By his energy this man rose to be the counsellor of dukes, the architect of royalty, the favourite of princes. In art, in literature, and science he is signalized all because he did not weakly yield to difficulties, but firmly resolved to master them. And, towering high above all, Palissy's religion was of that type which defied the persecutor, and could speak the truth before kings. God had made him noble and the humble man asserted his nobility by unflinching loyalty to Him who made him what he was. In return, he has eulogies pro- nounced on him in many lands. De Lamartine has said concerning Palissy, that he exercised some influence on civilization, and deserved a place among the men who have ennobled humanity. Though he had remained unknown and inactive in his father's pot- tery ; though he had never purified, moulded, or enamelled, his handful of clay ; though his living groups, his crawling reptiles, his slimy snails, his slippery frogs, his lively lizards, and his damp herbs, and dripping mosses, had never adorned those dishes, ewers, and salt-cellars, those quaint and elabo- rate ornaments of the tables and cupboards of the sixteenth century, nothing, it is true, would have been wanting to the FAME. 441 art of Phidias, or of Michael Angelo, to the porcelain of Sevres, of China, of Florence, or Japan ; but we should not have had Palissy's life for the operative to admire and imi- tate. It is as a model of triumphant industry, of genius struggling out of obscurity, in spite of crowds of difficulties, into a position at once pre-eminent and brilliant, that he is held up before us. Haller spoke of him as a man " born for the greatest achievements." And Dumesnil has said, " In our day all the ideas of Palissy have been revived in the minds of philosophers. . . ." His theories regarding springs, minerals, and other things have been confirmed. Mineralogy, geology, paleontology, hydrostatics, physical geography, organic chemistry, have now become sciences ; but Palissy long ago took firm possession of as much of them as he had discovered, and we can now say, that if true glory be slow, it is sure. For Palissy it consists less in empty honours, or in statues, than in the love of those who desire to see more and more of the light of God from day to day. And is not this man of humble birth, yet excellent in his achievements, another model? He had his place among men assigned to him in an age when the modern times were just beginning. It was an epoch of struggle and of combat, of great wrestlers, of soaring souls, and intrepid sufferers. Artists and philosophers, travellers and discoverers, citizens and men of science all saw the new truth, and many reve- rently bowed before it as the sunlight of the soul Palissy took his place high up among those lights ; and whether as the fearless preacher of truth at Saintes, the sufferer for it in the prison of Bourdeaux and the Bastile of Paris, or the associate of the most cultivated minds of that capital, his career is equally wonderful. He has recorded his sufferings, and that as pictorially as were the ornaments which he lavished in other departments, but not with the design of 442 THE GREAT DISTEMPEK murmuring ; rather to show what he had to encounter, and what he was enabled to surmount. A humble worker in clay, untaught, unfriended, poor, reviled, persecuted, for forty years of his life having no occupation but that of the most lowly, he at length took his place among princes ; and one part of his secret he himself described, when he said, that man should be all his life an apprentice. It was so with Palissy. He was ever learning, ever observing, ever treasuring up, alike in knowledge human and divine ; and the man who shall imitate his example may at length sit down by his side, or at least at his feet. Indulging what has been called " his fierce probity," he told his king that he knew how to die for the truth. That was because his life had been guided by it ; and the way to the many-man- sioned home is more easily found by the earnest, because they have such examples as lights by the way. But in contemplating the efforts and struggles of such a man, we can scarcely help asking the question, why such struggles at all 1 If God, only wise, be presiding on earth, why was this man doomed to toil and to suffer as he did 1 He was aiming at the good and the right. He was a devout God-fearing man. A prison had no terrors, and royalty no attractions for him, when he felt that he was upholding the rights of conscience and of truth. Why, then, had one so noble to endure as Palissy did 1 By what law was he con- strained to take his place among the ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands, who have waded through tribulation here below ? Sin has polluted, and by polluting has distempered our world that is the key to the whole. Here the first are often last, the best are often as the off-scourings. But for three hundred years Bernard Palissy has made his home where all that is distempered is put right, and all that is chaotic is reduced to order. The first are there the first, the last are there the last ; and if he THE CROWN. 443 has now exchanged crowns with the king who tried to bend him from his steadfastness, that may explain to us the struggles wh*ich Palissy had to endure. He was to be prepared for his crown. He was to be burnished into a celes- tial brightness, and his toils and tribulations were employed for that purpose. He might have been one of the ignoble of his day as worthless as the minions of the French court, or as hateful as the most malignant of the French persecu- tors. But he chose the more excellent way, the only way to glory, that of firm adherence to the truth of God a humble yet manly determination to fear Him, and have no other fear. God helping him, he kept his resolution in- violate, and now his memory is blessed. He rises above the men who persecuted, ensnared, and imprisoned him, as the spiritual body will rise, at the day of resurrection, above that which is sown in dishonour and corruption. Go thou and do as he did, that thou mayest be as he is. Never forget that " Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple fatth than Norman blood." The balance of the sanctuary will work a strange revolution at last in the opinions and among the deeds of men. For that the believer, like Palissy, can afford to wait ; he knows in whom he has believed. IV. JOHN KEPLER. 1571-1630. " Where finds philosophy her eagle eye, With which she gazes at yon burning disc Undazzled, and detects and counts his spots? Where her implements exact With which she calculates, computes, and scans All distance, motion, magnitude, and now Measures an atom, and now girds a world? " COWPEE. Fallacies Kepler's birth His training A servant to his father Sent to school at Maulbronn University of Tubingen Family feuds Kepler adopts the Copernican system Appointed professor at Gratz His life-work His mode of study Publishes Attracts the notice of Tycho Bralie Becomes his colleague His labours Tycho's death Kepler succeeds him The advantages of his new position His three great laws Examples of his labours Objections to his discoveries Errors His faults His devout- ness His trials, domestic, pecuniary, and professional Persecution from Romanists His deep poverty and neglect Family griefs Removes to Linz Trials increased The Inquisition and Kepler's books Some of them burned in Styria The Jesuits Kepler's removal to Silesia His death The Great Sufferer. jjHEN we contemplate any admirable work of art, for example, a statue by Michael Angelo, or the church of St. Peter at Rome, we lose sight of the artist's struggles in admiring the product of his genius. All seems radiant beauty, and we forget the throes or the sufferings amid which it was created. In the case of Michael Angelo, for instance, we forget his contendings with popes before he could wring from them the funds which were requisite to enable him to execute their commissions. Alike with Julius II. and Leo X. he was obliged to proceed in this manner, for both the impetuosity of his own disposi- tion, and the tardiness of the pontiffs to remunerate the YOUNG LIFE. 445 great architect, sculptor, and painter, chafed and fretted him from day to day. More than once, as we have seen, had he to retire from their employment, and leave them to shame and their own meanness ; and what he thus experienced has been the ordinary lot of goodness or of genius the path in which it moves forward to its place is at once steep and thorny. We have studied some examples of that general law, and are now to contemplate another one which is both very signal and somewhat humbling. It is the life of JOHN KEPLER, who has been spoken of as one who "constructed the edifice of the world," and as " second only to Sir Isaac Newton." He was born at the imperial city of Wiel, in the kingdom of Wirtemberg, on the 27th of December, in the year 1571. His parents were both of noble lineage, but had been reduced to poverty by their own misconduct. Kepler, the father, for some time eerved his sovereign in the army, where he wasted his patri- mony ; and his son John was prematurely born, while his father was absent with his regiment. The child was in consequence feeble for some of his early years ; indeed, he never became robust. Henry Kepler was at last obliged to sell the whole of his patrimony, and became a tavern-keeper at Elmendingen, where his son was for some*" 'time his servant. Even after he returned to school, which was in 1585, his health was so delicate that he was debarred from mental application, so that his progress was much retarded. In the following year he entered a school at the monastery of Maulbronn. It was designed as a gymnasium to the University of Tubingen, to which the Maulbronn students went up, according to the peculiar laws and usages of the place. But even thus early, young Kepler was subjected to difficulties and drawbacks, so that his progress continued to be much interrupted. Family feuds of a vexatious kind, 446 EAELY VIEWS. and of frequent occurrence, both disturbed the studies and marred the peace of the future philosopher. His father at length separated from his mother, whose habits appear to have been beyond endurance ; but, amid impediments so grieyous, young Kepler graduated as Bachelor in 1588, and as Master in 1591, his eminence then giving some presage of his future position. In academic honours he was the second student of his year. At Tubingen he studied under Professor Moestlin, who was one of the first to adopt the Copernican system of the universe. The student early became dissatisfied with the incoherences of other systems, and welcomed with a kind of transport the new doctrines, as propounded by his master. He even wrote thus early in defence of the diurnal rotation of the earth. Kepler's first promotion was to the chair of astronomy at Gratz, in Styria, in the year 1594. He was compelled, he records, to accept of that office, for at first he displayed no special aptitude or preference for that department of science. With characteristic ardour, however, he threw himself upon his new duties, and began some brilliant, but, as it proved, some baseless speculations regarding the orbits of the planets. Here, then, we have Kepler addressing himself like one who has the dew of youth upon him, and with the fresh fervour of a recent convert, to his life-work, and what was it? Discovery discovery in the loftiest of all the walks on which man can enter regarding things material, that is, among the stars. He has set before himself as his grand object, the detection of some general laws which shall reduce the apparently chaotic heavens to order, and he never once lost sight of the objects of his search. He sought them in devious ways indeed. He even groped for them where they could not be found, and his errors THEORIES. 447 were as great as his labours. For a time, he plunged into speculations which fatigued and bewildered him, and deep- ened the confusion. At length, however, like another Archi- medes, and not by chance, Kepler reduced the skies, or rather man's conceptions of them, to order and beauty. He laid the foundation on which Newton reared his own glory ; he constructed the system on which Galileo shed light. Such is the man of whose doings and sufferings a glimpse is now to be presented the man of whom Delambre has said that " his perseverance was such that it must triumph over all difficulties but those which are insurmountable." And first of his doings. As the imagination of Kepler was bold and discursive, he sometimes revelled in theories which only deluded him. He entered upon calculation after calculation, ever seeking a remedy for the acknow- ledged errors or defects of all past systems of astronomy. But as he gradually discovered that some of his juvenile views were untenable, he abandoned them as frankly as he had ardently pursued them. Over one of these he exulted for a time so intensely, that he declared he would not re- nounce the glory of the discovery, though he were offered the Electorate of Saxony as a bribe. But he soon found that that discovery was no discovery at all It was the brilliant vision, however, of a noble mind, though akin to some of the world-making systems which had long prevailed. But the spell was broken at last, and Kepler was led into far more sober paths to greatness. In 1596 he published a work in which he wrought out some of his wild and wondrous problems. That volume secured for him the friendship of Tycho Brahe, who had been astronomer to the King of Denmark at Uraniburg, in the isle of Huen. Kepler's income from his professorship at Gratz, was small. He was now married ; but his wife's fortune did not add much to his resources, and he soon be- 448 TYCHO BRAKE. came involved in pecuniary difficulties. By the advice of Tycho, Kepler became more observant of facts, and some- what less prone to theorize. His friend had removed to Beuach, near Prague, being driven from Huen by the envy of some Danes, and by the reluctance of others to continue to pay him his salary. He invited Kepler to join him in his new sphere, under the patronage of the Emperor of Ger- many. The young astronomer accordingly paid a visit of some months to that place, in the year 1600 ; and on his return to Gratz he resigned his professorship, owing to troubles which had arisen there. Soon after that period, Kepler joined Tycho at Benach ; and the Emperor, to whom he was presented, appointed him to the rank of Imperial mathematician. He now assisted Tycho in calculations connected with an exten- sive series of observations ; and while thus laying the foun- dation of his own future discoveries, Kepler assisted in the construction of the Rudolphine Tables, named after the Emperor, and designed to facilitate the labours of future astronomers. But Tycho died in the year 1601, in the fifty- fifth year of his age, when Kepler succeeded him as principal mathematician to the Emperor. His salary, which was ample, was to have been paid partly from the imperial treasury, and partly from the States of Silesia, and it seems as if he had now found a haven ; but the ample astronomical observations which his predecessors left behind, proved a nobler endowment than kings or emperors can bestow. Brahe had been, what Kepler was not, a careful observer of the heavens ; he had actually made observations regarding one thousand stars, and thus left to his successor a mass of facts by which to test and to correct the theories which were current the cycles and epicycles which even Coper- nicus had been obliged to continue. Though it was Kepler's confessed tendency to " hunt KEPLER'S DISCOVERIES. 449 down" his hypotheses as they arose, and substitute another and another till he approached the truth, he had learned a greater sobriety of procedure under Tycho Brahe. He gradually began to deduce his opinions from nature, instead of bringing them to it ; and now, he is on the path which leads to truth. In various departments of science connected with his master study, he led the way in useful dis- coveries. The eye, the theory of eclipses, of the tides, and even, in a sense, the principle on which the telescope is con- structed, were explained more accurately than ever before by the fine genius of Kepler. But it was by his great dis- coveries, the laws which pass by his name, and which are really the foundation of the modern astronomy, that this man became famous. When he went to reside with Brahe, in the year 1601, Kepler had obtained, for the first time, the means of correcting his brilliant but often baseless hypotheses. Patient observation signalized Tycho ; a soar- ing but unsteady genius formed the peculiarity of Kepler. The one thus acted as a counterpoise to the other ; or, if Kepler still loved to walk among the stars, in the hope of extracting from them the secrets of the sky, he was steadied or curbed, guided or illumined, by the long-continued obser- vations of his friend. It was in consequence of this help that he was led to doubt the view of Copernicus, which assumed that the heavenly bodies move in circles. Kepler discovered after many trials, calculations, and conjectures, that they move in ellipses; and that fact once ascertained, the system of the world was soon no longer a secret. From certain facts he deduced one grand law ; and as it was established by observations which could not be gainsaid, it became a key to the mechanism of the skies. It is difficult to convey an idea of his laws to those who are not familiar with astro- nomy, and it must suffice to quote them. The highest 450 BRAIN-WORKERS. authorities in science are loudest in their praise ; and they confessedly place Kepler in the very foremost rank of scien- tific discoverers. These laws are, 1. The orbits of all the planets are ellipses, in whose com- mon focus the sun is situated. 2. Equal areas are described round the sun by the planets in equal times ; that is, the radius vector, or the line joining the sun and the planet, sweeps over the same space in the same time, at whatever point of its orbit the moving body may be. 3. The squares of the periodic times of any two planets are to each other in the same proportion as the cubes of their mean distances from the sun. The mere announcement of these laws, we repeat, is enough to show how difficult and how lofty were the pur- suits of Kepler. And it was not by any happy guess that his vast mind extorted such secrets. On the contrary, he had to labour with an assiduity, and persevere with an indomitable zeal, such as could be repaid only by discoveries like his. Unless we were to follow him through all his processes, as has been elaborately done by Dr. Small in his Account of the Discoveries of Kepler, it would be impos- sible to explain how much science owes to the power, and posterity to the persistent example of this astronomer. For instance, it cost him the toil of twenty years to compare the observations of Tycho, and calculate their results. Men speak of the working classes as if they alone embraced the children of handicraft. But, in truth, the brain- workers are, in many cases, the workers by pre-eminence. It was so in the case of John Kepler ; for he had to struggle with un- flagging energy along every stage of the path by which he rose to greatness. It soon appeared that he must either labour and strive, and do, or take his place among the nameless crowd, who are born only to die, or live only to be LOFTY AIMS. 451 forgotten. But he chose toil, and he is great in spite of both poverty and neglect. One example may suffice to exhibit this man's labours. It had long been the opinion, as already noticed, that all the heavenly bodies move in circles. Even Copernicus re- tained that opinion. At first Kepler did not challenge it. But in making some calculations regarding the planet Mars, he found it impossible to reconcile some of its observed movements with the idea that it revolved in a circle ; and not till he had computed such motions with prodigious labour did he discover that the celestial bodies move in an ellipse. That led him to other and yet other discoveries, which ended in the establishment of the grand laws already quoted, by which He who is higher than the heavens has bound the planets in their orbits. That man of lofty aims felt that these laws were secrets, but secrets which might be found out. " Looking forward, fixed On something which he saw not, solemn, strange," he pressed upward, now guessing, now calculating now stumbling, now rising, till he made us acquainted with the mysteries of all the planets ; and philosophers tell us that Kepler's errors and successes, his hypotheses and calcula- tions in working out his results, " excite a feeling of aston- ishment nearly approaching to awe." But this does not exhibit Kepler's painstaking labour with sufficient vividness : the following particulars may render it more clear. Arithmetical calculations were then carried on at a vast expense of labour when great accuracy was required. In each of seven calculations regarding the planet Mars, Kepler covered ten folio pages with figures. He repeated each calculation ten times, so that the whole for each of these trials of accuracy occupied one hundred folio pages ; seven hundred for the entire series, or a pon- derous folio volume filled with sheer calculations. 452 KEPLER'S CONFLICTS. At times, amid these efforts to arrive at exact truth, the astronomer was perplexed by his own fancies. His love of truth was a passion, but he sometimes sought it where experience has taught that it is seldom found amid hypo- theses and theories. He learned, however, to cast these aside with great magnanimity when he found that they im- peded his progress; so that industry which refused to be fatigued, decision which would not be swayed by any pro- mising assumption, as well as genius which could penetrate the secrets of the very sky, presided over his doings ; and competent judges could say that everything hypothetical was at length cleared away from the science which Kepler adorned. Some of his discoveries involved results which even he could not fully anticipate ; and though he carefully registered the day on which they were made, it remained for the astronomers of future time to profit to the full by the toils, the sagacity, the demonstrations and discoveries of Kepler. Of one of these days Professor Playfair has said, that " perhaps philosophers will agree that there are few days in the scientific history of the world which deserve so well to be remembered" as the 8th of May 1618. But were the astronomers of that day as grateful as Playfair and the moderns? On the contrary, Kepler's dis- coveries were objected to because his problems were too difficult. Because the Creator has wrought on a scale of magnificence which man's arithmetic can scarcely calcu- late, Kepler's astronomy was assailed on account of its very grandeur. He extorted secrets from the heavenly bodies by profound and laborious research ; but after extorting them he had to defend them against those who could not walk from star to star as he did by calculations, and Galileo by his telescope. But though the effects of Kepler's dis- covery were not all confessed at first, it soon became appa- rent that what he had discovered bound the whole heavena KEPLER'S INDUSTRY. 453 mto one vast family of suns and stars. Sir John Herschel says that " they are bound up in one chain, interwoven in one web of mutual relation and harmonious agreement, and sub- jected to one pervading influence " Yet the man who first unfolded that mighty secret had to defend his discovery as if it had been imposture and deception ! The calculations which filled a folio volume of seven hundred pages could procure no exemption from the tax which is exacted by littleness from greatness. With all this, however, it is to be confessed that Kepler still clung to some of the fallacies of his day. Though he had a glimpse of the true cause of the tides, he continued to hold by the wild fancy that the earth is an enormous living animal, and that the tides are the waves produced by the water gushing through its gills. Though he discarded some of the idle superstitions to which astrology gave rise, and deemed its supporters quacks and charlatans, he yet retained some modified opinions upon the subject unworthy alike of science and of the man. In one of his most remarkable productions, "The Harmonies of the World," which he dedicated to James I. of Britain, the great Kepler ap- pears pleading for what seems a wild supposition the influence of the solar and the lunar rays over the human soul. Such is man! But in hours of happier inspiration, and when he spoke or acted as a philosopher, not a dreamer, Kepler laid all time under deep obligations. His works are numerous in spite of much bodily weakness, and troubles more than fall to the lot of ordinary men. Between the years 1594 and 1630 he published thirty-three separate books. His MSS. occupy twenty-two volumes, including seven volumes of his letters. It was an industry which makes modern activity seem indolent, as his daring genius renders modern discoveries tame. Moreover, Kepler was not one of those cold-hearted beings wo> 29 454 SORROWS AND THEIR CAUSES. whom mathematics, and diagrams, and calculations endless, transform into recluses. Nay, he enjoyed intensely all that was grand and beautiful in the world. Though vehement, he was generous ; though too easily provoked, he compen- sated for that failing by his frank acknowledgments when he saw that he was wrong, and public confession followed a public offence against a friend. His own views, we have seen, were at once abandoned when he saw that they were wrong, so that the blemishes which attach to his cha- racter are over-balanced or over-laid by his grandeur or his genius. Above all, he was profoundly reverential towards Him who created the heavens and the earth. Coleridge once said, and lived to deplore the saying " Of whose all-seeing eye Aught to demand were impotence of mind;" but not so Kepler. He never entered on any undertaking without prayer to God for his guidance. His was not the shallow knowledge which inclines man to atheism, but the profound acquirements which can everywhere trace the ves- tiges of the Creator. Hence lowly reverence marked all his ways. It was an elevating spectacle to see one whom science places next to her high priest, Newton, kneeling submissive to the Father of lights for wisdom, guidance, and success ; and yet never was he in a nobler attitude. It explains the secret of his successes and his triumphs amid unre- quited toils, and pressing want, and griefs such as would have ground down a nature less trusting than his. " The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him," and Kepler was borne up by resources of which many are willingly ignorant. Such were the discoveries of this astronomer. But reference has been made to his troubles and his crosses ; and to com- plete our view of this earnest labourer, we must next con- sider these, and that with some care. It might have been supposed that a mind engrossed with PECUNIARY DIFFICULTIES. 455 pursuits so lofty and serene as his would pass through life unruffled. His own noble science unveils to us a region where no clouds are formed where all is tranquillity and rest. Earth is the sphere of vapours and tempest the upper sky is ever untroubled; and did not Kepler dwell there? As he moved from planet to planet reading off the laws of one and all, was not his case an exception to the rule that man is born to trouble? It was the reverse. Sorrow upon sorrow crowded his course ; and on a review, it is surprising that amid pursuits like his, the crosses which befell did not utterly unman him. Passing over long troubles occasioned by the friends of his wife, we find Kepler and her at one time utterly dependent on the bounty of Tycho Brahe. Pecuniary difficulties arose immediately after his marriage, for his income from his pro- fessorship at Gratz was inadequate for his support. Mora over, he was a Protestant, firm and unfaltering. But the Romanists of Gratz raised a clamour against the co-religionista of Kepler, and threatened to drive them from the city. He was obliged to flee into Hungary, where he appears to have occupied himself with literary labours. In the year 1597, however, he was recalled to Gratz by the States of Styria, but the factions which still divided that city made it no safe abode. Fresh troubles occurred, and Kepler resigned his professorship. He had to begin life anew. Even when the Emperor Rudolph, at the instance of Tycho, had settled a salary on Kepler, it excited the jealousy of some mean minds, so that a new source of disquietude arose. He possessed an elasticity of spirit, however, which bore him up amid all these disquietudes ; indeed his broad humour, amid all his griefs, seems sometimes to pass due bounds: he indulges his love of merriment alike in the presence of an Emperor, and in discovering some of the sublimest laws which are known to man. Whether in 456 BUOYANT HOPES. refuting the Epicurean theory of creation by atoms, or ex- plaining the virtues of a salad at his table, sallies of fancy broke forth. He was as remarkable for these as for his sagacity and his power.* Life, however, is not a jest to any man ; and least of all to Kepler. Though the Emperor had assigned to him an ade- quate salary, the imperial treasury was so exhausted by war that it was always in arrear, and such was the pressure which that occasioned that Kepler spoke of himself as perpetually begging bread from the Emperor. He was in consequence compelled to suspend some of his nobler pursuits, and betake himself to the composition of ephemeral books to earn a morsel. " I have been obliged," he says, " to compose a vile prophesying Almanac, which is scarcely more respect- able than begging, unless from its saving the Emperor's credit, who abandons me entirely, and would suffer me to perish with hunger." Such was the position of one whom men of kindred genius would place side by side with New- ton, but who must first sit side by side with Job. Yet though such things impeded his progress in discovery, they could not quench his ardour ; and, on one occasion, wlien one of Kepler's grand demonstrations was complete, he could say, " Nothing holds me ; I will indulge in my sacred fury ; I will triumph over mankind by the honest confession that I have stolen the golden vases of the Egyptians to build up a tabernacle for my God, far away from the confines of Egypt. If you forgive me, I rejoice ; if you are angry, I can bear it. The die is cast ; the book is written, to be read either now or by posterity, I care not which. I may well wait a century for a reader, since God has waited six thou- sand years for a discoverer." t * His preparations for his second marriage are described by Kepler in a style that is grotesque. See his life in "The Library of Useful Knowledge," or Sir David Brewster's " Martyrs of Science." t Sir David Brewster's " Life of Kepler." KEPLER INVITED TO BRITAIN. 457 But family griefs were added to pecuniary embarrassment. Kepler's mother was a woman of dissipated habits, and that often shocked him. She was at one time charged with poisoning one of her friends ; and that occasioned sorrow upon sorrow. While the Emperor's exchequer and his hand were equally empty, the " starving astronomer's" home was full of grief. And yet not full, for it must hold more. His wife was seized with fever, and other diseases, in the year 1610 ; his three children were at the same time invalids. His favourite son died ; Prague was occupied by hostile troops, and Kepler's home, already sufficiently tried, found the Bo- hemian levies a source of constant annoyance. Then the plague broke out in the city ; and while the astronomer was attempting to obtain a professorship at Linz, in the hope of securing an income, his wife was seized with consumption, and soon afterwards died. But there must be other troubles still. When Kepler resided at Linz, as professor of mathematics, he was de- nounced by the Romanists for some opinions which he had expressed regarding the doctrine of transubstantiation. That did not encourage him to remove, though he was invited, to Bologna as professor of mathematics. Some of his books were placed in the Expurgatory Indices of bigotry ; and Kepler was too independent in soul to brook a position where man may not utter what God has been pleased to teach. The arrears of his income continued unpaid. One ruler died, and then another ; but it made no difference to poor, defrauded, and neglected Kepler. He was destined, above most men, to feel how broken a reed imperial patron- age may be. and to discover how unerring is that truth which warns us not to put our trust in princes. He was invited to settle in England. But under the charlatan king, James I., would Kepler have been better there? At all events, he declined the suggestion of the British ambassador ; 458 PERSECUTION RENEWED. and even the pressure of want could not induce him to leave his country, cold and inhospitable as it had been to him. "While the fire eaters and astrologers of Rudolph were basking in the sunshine of imperial favour, Kepler passed his life in extreme indigence;" and that was the reward which a monarch bestowed on brilliant discoveries on genius unsurpassed, and a moral heroism that would quail before no difficulty. But his troubles have not been all recounted even yet. The States of Styria ordered some of Kepler's books to be burned, for some affront to these States, which it was al- leged the works contained. To one who loved truth with an immoderate passion, as Kepler did, and who was ever ready to confess his own errors, and proclaim his own failures, this was galling. It was perhaps forgotten, however, amid some gleams of light which now broke through the darkness. In the year 1622, the reigning Emperor, Ferdinand, ordered all Kepler's arrears to be paid ; and he seemed at length on the eve of accomplishing some of his most cherished designs the man who has received the lofty title of " the Legislator of the heavens," is about to be set free from poverty. But the Jesuits were in the field. The persecutors of Galileo were also the persecutors of Kepler. His library was actually sealed up by their order; and it was only his official connection with the Emperor that saved him from personal durance. The rancour of a dark superstition thus added its influence to the hardships of poverty. The Grand Duke of Tuscany might forward a gold chain to Kepler, in token of his applause; but what is either im- perial patronage or ducal approbation when Jesuitism assails a man who said, that he " always took the view of religion which seemed to be agreeable to the word of God 1 ?" In this case men tried to quench the light of science, as they try to extinguish revelation ; for the instinct of self- DEATH AT RATISBON. 459 preservation may everywhere tell the Jesuit that he and light, or he and progress, cannot co-exist. To the last, then, Kepler's troubles continued. Albert, Duke of Friedland, invited him to take up his abode at Sagan, in Silesia, and religious strife and the pressure of poverty induced him to comply. He removed to Sagan in the year 1629 ; and that was to be his last, as it was also his most comfortable home. But even there he could not recover the arrears of his salary, now amounting to eight thousand crowns, and he proceeded to Eatisbon, to make one effort more to wring them from imperial hands. Ha- rassed, however, by care and vexation, and weary of his long solicitations, he was seized with fever, and died at Ratisbon on the 5th of November 1630, when under sixty years of age. He was interred in that city; and on his tombstone it was recorded that the " mathematician of the whole Christian world," " piously died in Christ." But even the grave of Kepler was not respected like that of most men. The tomb was soon desecrated by the ruthless hand of war, and not till the year 1803 was any structure raised to his memory. Such treatment almost justified the bitter sarcasm of one of his admirers, who said that Kepler's countrymen first refused to give him bread, and then would not grant him even a stone. His monument is a temple, built near his grave, surmounted by a sphere, and containing in the interior a marble bust of the great astro- nomer. At the time of his death the sum of twenty-four thousand florins was due to him by the Emperor ; but his family, who were of course left in straitened circumstances, never received more than a part. And such is another life-study. It is strange, eventful, eloquent. No doubt, the afflictions which befell Kepler the astronomer, helped to burnish the graces of Kepler the Christian. He had a great fight to maintain, and there is 460 THE GREAT BENEFACTOR. reason to believe that he maintained it with patience, and well. But that does not diminish it enhances the shame of those who doomed him to neglect. The story of " the starry Galileo, and his woes," was repeated in the case of Kepler, for intolerant superstition troubled and beclouded the life of each. In that of the latter, a poverty which was well-nigh abject pressed down his spirit; and even when he was exploring the furthest ranges of creation, or announcing the laws which bind star to star, he was the victim of imperial neglect tantalized, deceived, and starved. Yet he persisted. It was not merely for the smiles of crowned creatures that Kepler lived and laboured; he knew of a joy with which their frown or their neglect could not intermeddle. By that joy he was cheered, till at last he found an asylum where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.* His path through life was chequered, if we should not say all dark. It was at least as dark as man can make it ; and Kepler is one proof more that the man who would do good to his fellow men, who would shed light upon their darkness, or train them to soar instead of grovelling, must often be prepared for hardships, for persecution, for con- tumely or neglect. One wondrous Benefactor came to our world from a better. He never saw a sorrow which he was not ready to soothe, nor a want which he was not willing to supply. He held out his hand to help, and what did man do 1 He seized that hand and nailed it to a tree. It was a premonition loud, deep, and touching of what awaits all who would do good to ungrateful men. * Kepler left a brief epitaph, in Latin, for himself, which was incorporated with a longer inscription on his tomb. It was this, " Mensns eram ccelos, none terra metior umbras : Mens coelestis erat, corporis umbra jacet" V. JAMES WATT. 173&-1819. Wealth, worldly glory, rich array Are all but thorns laid in thy way, O'ercovered with flowers laid in a train All earthly joys return in pain. DUNBAR. The claims of genius Honours of Watt His birth-place His school-boy days and trials Was his genius precocious? His life-work commences His acquirements His passion for mechanics Proceeds to London Becomes Known in Glasgow on his return The university Its advantages And pro- fessors His employments A retrospect The Newcomen steam-engine His resolution exemplified A glimpse of the inventor His first inventions Vant of means to push them Accepts of other employment His health a wrecK A rival inventor Resolves to invent no more New Inventions, and fresh troubles Results The Clyde His honours Westminster Abbey What were his religious views? The close. ( HE claims of genius are not always recognised during the lifetime of its possessor. The effects of envy dominate in some, and they will not acknowledge what might otherwise seem too obvious to be challenged. In others, indifference ; in others, ignorance, or stupidity ; in others, conflicting interests, and rival claims, operate to the prejudice of the gifted. They are not seldom left to poverty and neglect, and sink, perhaps, into the grave unnoticed and unknown. They are often advanced to their proper position only after their removal from the scene where envy not seldom supersedes admiration, and cold neglect robs the benefactor of men, not merely of the fame which is his due, but of the more substantial rewards which it should be our joy promptly and liberally to pay. 462 STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPHS. It once seemed likely to be thus with JAMES WATT, at Whose inventions and life we are next to glance, as illustrat- ing the necessity of decision and earnest concentration in the way to eminence. During his lifetime he rose at length to competency and more, even to ample wealth ; he was in circumstances to show that he could he munificent as well as inventive, and to encourage struggling merit, as he had not been encouraged. But the marvellous benefits which he bestowed on man, the mighty revolution in every depart- ment of life, which he was the means of introducing, attracted little public attention for many years. It is true that George III. honoured Watt with his notice ; some of the allied sove- reigns, who visited this country, also visited the great in- ventor when near the close of his career. But only after the grave had received him did the public mind wake fully up to the gigantic results which were sure to follow from the inventions of James Watt. He had to defend his achievements by nearly every form of lawsuit, up to the highest. He had to struggle for years with most inadequate means. He had to encounter the attacks of unprincipled pirates; and years elapsed ere the brilliance of his dis- coveries was adequately comprehended by men. At last, however, the eloquence of the highest minds was taxed to do him justice ; and never, perhaps, before has a homage more profound been offered to genius. Men who lived in the shadow of royalty, and were charged with the govern- ment of empires, combined with the noble, the eloquent, and the learned to do justice to his memory and name. He was placed at once, and far up, among " the starry lights of genius." His inventions were hailed at length as peaceful revolutions in many departments ; while the lapse of nearlv half a century has seen the celebrity of Watt placed on a foundation from which no time can ever remove it. What, then, were the stages what the powers or mental peculiari- YOUTH. 463 ties by which he was guided to his lofty place among the benefactors of the world 1 Can we trace his footprints, for our guidance, along the rugged ascent where he climbed so nobly and so high ? Watt was born at Greenock on the 19th of January, 1736. As his parents had already lost several children by death, he was watched over with care, and he required it : from his earliest years he was subject to ailments which often inter- rupted his career as well as saddened and distressed him. His father was a magistrate in his native town, and was in easy, if not affluent circumstances ; and traditions are current which tell that the home of his parents, as to its decorations and its comforts, was in advance of what was common ill Greenock a hundred years ago. At school, the boy Watt was rather victimized by the more turbulent of his class fellows. His shy and retiring habits, his frequent ailments, and other things provoked attacks, which are said to have fallen " thick and heavy on the ethereal, yet passive spirit of the gentle boy." Indeed, the ordeal to which he was exposed appears to have been un- usually severe, and the depression of mind, occasioned either by physical pain, or mental anxiety, or both, caused young Watt to be regarded at school as chiefly remarkable for stupi- dity and supposed want of sense. No one would have ven- tured to predict the eminence which awaited him. In consequence of these things, the early history of the boy is given in very different terms by different biographers. Some have denied that any precocity or peculiarity appeared in him, except that of dullness and reserve, and the facts which are detailed regarding his early studies are viewed by this class, for the most part, as myths. At the same time it is confessed that even thus early, he had a small forge constructed for his own particular use. It is believed that even as a boy, nauti- cal and scientific instruments passed through his hands for 464 A BENEFACTOR OF THE WORLD. repair, such as the young are rarely permitted to handle."" Others, again, have recorded that when he was only six years of age, he was found stretched on the floor of his father's house, struggling to solve a mathematical pro- blem from a diagram which he had drawn with chalk. Not long after that period, the future mechanician constructed a small electrical machine. He repaired the toys of his com- panions. He made juvenile experiments on the condensa- tion of steam ; and was scolded by a thrifty relative for his idleness, though he was then, as we are told, catching the first glimpse of a bright idea which, after making his own fortune, has made the fortune of thousands. If these things were so, then Watt has indeed decided early as to his future path. With the certainty of instinct, he has entered on his life-career ; he is beginning, no doubt without plan or purpose, but actually, nevertheless, to be the benefactor of the world in its material interests. There can be no doubt, however, that James Watt really woke up to his true vocation in his thirteenth year. In this he has been likened to that other giant of Tirnnath when the Philistines were upon him. The commencement of the study of mathematics was the occasion of this intellectual birth. He then got possession of the power which was to unlock to him some of the secrets of nature, and spread out before men the means of growing rich beyond the power of computation. But along with that, other branches of know- ledge were acquired ; chemistry and chemical experiments occupied much of his time. Medicine and surgery were not overlooked. Botany, poetry and literature in various de- partments were cultivated by Watt ; and while delicate health compelled him at times to seek its renovation among the It is alleged that about this period Watt fabricated a "punch-ladle," for one of his friends, out of a large silver coin, as he is known at a future- period to have constructed a guitar, which is still in existence, for a female relative. DEVOTEDNESS AND DECISION. 465 wild uplands around Loch Lomond, and in other scenes, he was treasuring up stores which made the great inventor, when he became such, an accomplished and a lettered man. What he did, in short, he did with all his might, and no man ever rose to eminence or stamped himself upon his times without doing likewise. " Give thyself wholly to these things," is a maxim of profoundest wisdom, as of highest authority. His passion for mechanics, however, at length overbore all other pursuits. In quest of higher skill and finer manual training than he could acquire in Scotland, he proceeded to London, in 1755, and there spent a year in learning some of the more delicate processes of practical mechanics. The construc- tion of some of the most delicate pieces of work in his trade, such as Hadley's Quadrants, Theodolites, and others was there learned. Whether it was his father's failure in business and other reverses, which took place a year or two before this period, or whether some other cause helped to propel young Watt along his favourite path, we do not tarry to inquire : enough that another step was taken in the direction in which his genius urged him on. At the expiry of a year he left London and returned to Scotland; and as he had .been often rudely treated amid the tumults of the school-yard, he is now to find that that was only an introduction to similar treatment upon the broad arena of the world. If he had been tended with gentle care in his father's house, or if his juvenile pursuits had been quiet, retiring, or sometimes even sombre, he is now to enter on a career which will test, and strain, and task his utmost ingenuity, sometimes his firmest endurance. His skill in repairing some mathematical instruments which belonged to the University of Glasgow, brought him under the notice of its most gifted professors. But as he was prevented by local laws from commencing business as a mathematical instrument maker in that city, the University 466 ADAM SMITH DR. BLACK. appointed him their agent in such matters, and assigned to him a workshop within the college. From that period we may perhaps date the dawn of the greatness of Watt, as from the time when the study of geometry became his ruling pas- sion, a new charm was added to his existence. " To un- derstand everything" was with him a persistent impulse which never left him satisfied with half knowledge, or half thoughts ; and when a mind so decided, or so bent on progress was brought into daily contact with some of the master spirits of his age, the effects need not be depicted. A galaxy of names then notable, and now celebrated, adorned the Western University at that period. Adam Smith was there elaborating and maturing the system which has so largely influenced the destinies of nations. Joseph Black was there, whose discoveries in chemistry gave a strong impulse to what appears the most rapidly progressive of all the sciences. Dr. Robert Simson, the restorer of the ancient geometry, and one of the most eminent mathematicians of that age, was also a professor in Glasgow ; and amid society so congenial, or in daily intercourse with minds so well fitted at once to appreciate him, and to be appreciated by him, his views enlarged, his knowledge grew ; it became evident that Watt was to take the place of a master. It cannot be said, indeed, that there was any brilliant thing done, anything to dazzle or to amaze. But the mind was gathering momentum : it was slowly feeling its way to that elevation from which its force was destined to be felt through ages untold. When resident in his native town, Watt has been known to spend hours reclining upon his back, watching through the trees the movements of the stars. The child was father to the man; and within the walls of the University of Glasgow the same spirit appeared, for Watt there entered upon the great work which he was destined to achieve, and though its achievement was still a great way off, he was advancing as STEAM AND ITS APPLICATIONS. 467 the vessel advances over wave after wave to its haven. The miniature crane-blocks, pumps and capstans, and the more complex miniature barrel-organ constructed by young Watt in his father's house, have given place to experiments which now, though not then, point the way to all the eminence which Watt has attained.* His house now became a little academy, where many of the youth of the city assembled to gratify their scientific predilections, to consult, and confer with an acknowledged guide. His own decided bias helped to decide others, and he became the common referee of those who were puzzled with scientific difficulties. When any question was pro- pounded to him, it forthwith became the subject of a new study; he subjected it to an exhaustive process, and either detected the worthlessness or announced the value of the suggestion. He could not, in truth, superficialize : he was thorough ; and no matter, one has written, what was pro- posed, languages, antiquity, natural history, nay, poetry, criticism, and works of taste all were investigated, though engineering was his favourite. At the same time his mind was both stored and stimulated by the works to which his position in the University gave him access; and as some have alleged that a close inspection might enable us ac- tually to see the palm tree growing, we can see this mind growing, because all its energies were bent on growth, they converged, instead of being dissipated. They sought with all the heart and they found. It was after or during such a preparatory training that the incident befell which caused the genius of Watt more and more to fix upon one single point steam, and its * It Is known that though Watt was devoid of all taste for music, and a must- cnl ear, he constructed several musical Instruments, in particular an organ of such compass and power that it produced remarkable harmonic effects, to the astonishment even of professional musicians. This, of course, implies profound nkiil in the science of Harmonics, as well ai power mechanically to reduce that skill to practical results. 468 HINTS FOLLOWED UP. applications which had already obtained some attention from him. The professor of Natural Philosophy in Glasgow had, among his class-apparatus, a model, a mere plaything, of the Newcomen steam-engine. It needed some repairs, and was sent to "Watt for that purpose ; and from that mo- ment we may regard him as more intensely committed than ever to his life pursuit. It was a trivial incident, the veri- est casualty, and something light as air; but it led to a train of results such as are not uncommon in the history of man, and which warn us of the wisdom embodied in the question, "Who hath despised the day of small things'?" Newcomen's engine was little more than a steam-engine in embryo, if it deserved even that title ; but its very imperfec- tions helped the better to develop the powers and display the ingenuity of Watt, in his attempts to remedy them. He experimented, failed, and experimented again, and ended in becoming the benefactor of nation after nation or, rather, in leaving his impress upon all the coming ages. It is not our purpose to detail the various stages by which Watt elaborated the grand idea which now began to possess him that of improving the applications of steam as a mo- tive power. It may help, however, to show how decided and how concentrated his mind had now become to men- tion, that he mastered the German tongue in order to be able to read a treatise on Mechanics in that language. To that acquisition, and for a similar purpose, Watt added the knowledge of Italian, about the same time, threading his way through the theory of sacred harmonics, that he might be qualified to construct an organ, as has already been noticed. These and similar pursuits on the part of one who was still only a working mechanic, although ex- quisitely ingenious and accomplished as a workman, evince a power of concentration, an entire devotedness to the thing in hand, which renders it easv to predict what that SMALL BEGINNINGS. 469 mechanist is likely to become. He has chosen his path well : he holds by it decidedly, and will yet stand in high places. We get one glimpse of this inventor amid his experiments and discoveries, upon which his friends have dwelt with delight. Professor Robison has said of the period when the " Separate Condenser," Watt's first great result, was dis- covered : " I came into Mr. Watt's parlour and found him sitting before the fire, having lying on his knee a little tin cistern, which he was looking at. I entered upon conver- sation on something about steam. All the while Watt kept looking at the fire, and laid down the cistern at the foot of his chair. At last, he looked at me, and said, briskly, ' You need not fash yourself any more about that, man. I have now made an engine that shall not waste a particle of steam ; it shall be boiling hot : ay, and hot water injected, if I please.' So saying, he looked with complacency at the little thing at his feet, and seeing that I observed him, he shoved it away under the table with his foot." Such is the account which is handed down to us of one of Watt's brightest discoveries, and, therefore, of one of his brightest hours. That " little thing at his feet " was the representative of a mighty power. It bridged over difficulties which even Watt could not surmount till then ; and from that germ the world has been filled with wonder, while the power of its population, in some lands at least, has been multiplied many hundred-fold. Most probably, the unromantic mind of Watt did not at that moment anti- cipate the mighty results of " the little thing." Yet who can doubt that his joy was then as deep, though not so tumultuous, as that of the orator amid his popular triumphs, or that of the poet amid his highest soarings? The progress of Watt amid these experiments was like the struggles of freedom, apparently lost, but really won. He was at times baffled and tempted to abandon some of (20) ay 470 INVENTION his instruments, or regard them merely as toys. A less decided mind would have ignored his life mission, and yielded in despair. But his genius impelled him to grapple with difficulties, and his mind converged the more upon a subject in proportion to the effort which it cost, till suc- cess at length crowned and encouraged his labours. He had now, as we have seen, accomplished his grand discovery of the " separate condenser," and had formally registered his patent for a method of lessening the consumption of steam, and, consequently, of fuel, in fire or steam-engines, the results of many watchful hours, many unpromising ex- periments and deep speculations, such as only Watt could conduct. If we add to these that he had enrolled in Chancery a threefold specification of an effective steam- engine, a high-pressure engine, and a horizontal rotatory engine, we have enumerated discoveries which have not merely rewarded his diligence and his sleepless nights, but have placed within man's reach those resources of produc- tive power which have immeasurably added to the riches of our globe. But ere the time for the full expansion of these inven- tions arrives, the inventor must be further tested : even yet he has other difficulties to surmount. Has he patience, determination, and decision to surmount them, and to feed on hope for a quarter of a century more 1 At this point, Watt was often checkmated by the want of means to push his various inventions into notice, so as to take advantage of the results of his skill and persever- ance. Some of his earlier experiments had been conducted under most unpromising circumstances from a similar cause. Apothecaries' vials, a glass tube or two, and a common tea- kettle, were his chief apparatus in arriving at some very im- portant conclusions. By attaching a glass tube to the spout of a kettle, he conducted the steam into a glass of STRUGGLES AND TEMPTATIONS. 471 wrater, and upon that founded a result which helped him materially in some of his future discoveries. His contracted resources thus limited his efforts, but could not damp his zeal, though the same impediment continued for many years to haunt him. He could extort secrets from nature by ap- pliance added to appliance, and embody his discoveries in machines which were to guide as well as expedite the cir- cumnavigation of the globe, and change the whole face of society; but he shrank from the occupations of the mere man of business. He disliked the scramble for money in which the world takes delight. He could grapple with difficulties such as scarcely any other man could have mas- tered, yet recoiled from a conflict with ignorance or preju- dice in vulgar minds. When his reputation was attacked, his originality denied, and his right to the work of his own hands contested, he was under strong temptation to abjure the course he was pursuing amid the unprovoked assaults of the malignant or unprincipled. But some fresh glimpse of nature's secrets lured him on, though for a time he had to diverge from the path of his fame. He accepted of other employment than invention, and was for several years engaged as a Civil Engineer. He made a survey of the river Clyde and the adjacent parts ; he constructed maps, traced out the course of canals, and superintended their formation. He had involved him- self in considerable debt by his attempts to perfect his inventions, and secure protection for them in a legal form. His three great inventions already mentioned the improved steam-engine, the high-pressure engine, and the rotatory steam-engine, for which letters patent were obtained in 1769, had not merely cost him time, thought, and labour they required more substantial means for their completion, and, as a result, Watt had a burden of debt to bear, with all its attendant drawbacks. It was 472 ELOOE OF M. ARAGO. more difficult for him to raise 1200, for that was about the amount, than to mature what could make him and tens of thousands rich ; and, in these circumstances, he gladly availed himself of other employment for main- taining himself and those dependent upon him canals, docks, and harbours, for a time engrossed his attention, and added to his reputation for scientific skill. Indeed, to have competed with the Brindleys, the Smeatons, and the Kennies of that day, and that in their own peculiar sphere, was itself a fame, and furnishes another proof at once of the power and perseverance of Watt. It deserves, as it has obtained, the encomium of a kindred mind in France. "At this stage of Watt's career, we see," exclaims M. Arago, in his Eloge, " the creator of an engine destined to form an epoch in the annals of the world, undergoing without a murmur the undiscerning neglect of capitalists ; during eight years, lowering the lofty powers of his genius to the getting up of plans, to paltry levellings, to wearisome calculations of excavations, and embankings, and courses of masonry." Everywhere, however, and in all employments, he was still James Watt facing all the difficulties with which genius could compete, and shrinking only from those in which less gifted minds feel no embarrassment, but rather congenial employment. His genius found both an outlet and a stimu- lus in the one, an incubus, or a cross in the other. Nor should we fail to notice, that amid this battling with adverse circumstances, the health of the great inventor often seemed a wreck. It unfitted him for activity, or exer- tion of any kind, insomuch that he could only sit in soli- tary sadness, musing, if capable even of so much, on the obstructions which seemed to block up his path. It was a portion of the price which he paid for fame the tax im- posed upon greatness in our distempered world. Still, however, the inventor could not be supine. Though SICKNESS PROSECUTION. 473 the events of this period were painfully ruffling to one so natively serene, and so fond of what was tranquil and domestic, they could not overmaster the ruling passion. The eye of his mind was fixed on one great, though appa- rently distant, object. From that he might be diverted for a time ; but true to the life-work which he had to do, he evermore recurred to it he turned to it as to some radiant spot, and the more distant its completion might appear, he was sometimes just the more bent on seeing it performed. Plan after plan was therefore adopted : friend after friend was appealed to for means to escape from pecuniary diffi- culty, and all that by a man who was " suffering under the most acute sick headaches, sitting by the fireside for hours together, his head leaning on his elbow, scarcely able to give utterance to his thoughts." Zealous, however, as ever, and to induce a friend with whom he was in correspond- ence, to assist him in launching his inventions, Watt erected one of his engines at Kinniel, on the Forth, though portions of the machinery had to be conveyed thither in secret, to avoid the risk of piracy or premature disclosures. Nor were such precautions unnecessary. Referring to a rival patentee, who appeared just when Watt seemed near- ing the goal of all his aspirations, he had to confess, that " of all things in life there is nothing more foolish than in- venting. Here I work five or more years contriving an engine, and Mr. Moore (his rival) hears of it ; is more awake ; gets three patents at once ; publishes himself in the news- papers ; hires two thousand men ; sets them to work for the whole world ; gets a fortune at once, and prosecutes me for using my own invention!" Such were the impediments which obstructed his career: such the difficulties with which he had to compete, while "he continued a slave" to what he called his "present hateful employment" of civil engin- eering. To a mind so delicately formed as his, all this 474 THE PRICE OF GREATNESS. must have been a species of martyrdom ; but his whole life had been concentrated on his inventions, and he is not to be thwarted when so near the goal. It is well known that a coral reef surrounds some of the islands in the Pacific Ocean. Outside that reef the sea may surge in wildest com- motion, till it is impossible for any vessel to live amid the terrible breakers. But once inside, all is serene : it is like the very home of the halcyon. Now, Watt had long been among the breakers, but he is at length about to enter the lagoon. And yet the remark must be modified. Even at this stage, it seemed not unlikely that he might be wrecked after all. Pecuniary difficulties on the part of those to whom he had made over the larger portion of his rights, occasioned fresh delays, so vexatious and chafing that he had occasion to say, " I am resolved, unless those things I have brought to some perfection reward me for the time and money I have lost on them, if I can resist it, to invent no more. Indeed, I am not near so capable as I once was. I find I am not the same person I was four years ago, when I in- vented the fire (steam) engine, and foresaw, even before I made a model, almost every circumstance that has since occurred. I was at that time pressed on by the alluring hope of placing myself above want, without being obliged to have much dealing with mankind to whom I have always been a dupe. The necessary experience in great measure was wanting ; in acquiring it, I have met with many dis- appointments. I have now brought the engine near a conclusion, yet I am not, in idea, nearer the rest I wish for, than I was four years ago. However, I am resolved to do all I can to carry on the business, and if it does not thrive with me, I will lay aside the burden I cannot carry." The fame of Watt is great and will continue while this world endures; but did he not acquire it at a high price? Is PERSISTENCY. 475 there not truth in the sarcasm which speaks of this bene- factor of men, as exposed to " the martyrdom of an English patent ?" Though faint, however, he was still pursuing. " I am resolved if I can resist it, to invent no more." Such was the announced design of Watt, amid the difficulties which now environed him. He wisely, and in- stinctively, however, inserted the condition, " If I can resist it" and he could not. He was under a law, a kind of mental necessity to invent, and must cease to live ere that law be set aside, or that necessity evaded. Watt accord- ingly continued to invent till his closing day ; but that should not prevent us from noticing the pain which he endured on the way to eminence, on the one hand, or the triumph which he achieved, on the other. A man of fiery temperament would have adopted some bolder device than patience for bringing his discovery into play. But he calm, retiring, and serenely philosophic was not propelled by any im- pulse, or borne up by any excitement. It was the steady persistency and invincible power of his genius, and not any spasmodic efforts that made him what he was ; in short, as the material benefits which he was about to bestow upon the race were perhaps unmatched, the basis on which they were to rest was prepared with toil and self-sacrifice ; a deep and difficult foundation for a lofty structure. Another in- ventor says of such a man, in speaking of this period of Watt's history : " He elaborates a great invention, or per- fects a great discovery, and a wasted frame, an empty purse, and, perchance, a starving family measure the labour which he has expended." It is "the cruel infancy of invention," "the first sufferings of a man of genius, whom Providence has raised up as a benefactor to his country and his species." Strange that it should be so in a world where omniscient love presides ! But that love has not left us ignorant of the cause of such a state of things. 476 HOPE DEFERRED. We are trying here to trace some of the effects of decision of character ; and, to show how much Watt needed it, we next observe that so many years of his patent had expired ere his machines came into operation, that he petitioned par- liament for an extension of his privilege. It was conceded for twenty-five years; but was opposed even by Edmund Burke. That was done on behalf of one of that statesman's constituents ; and for such reasons, Watt was to be deprived of the fruits of his toil, his anxiety, and his genius, the hope deferred which had often made his heart sick, was to sicken it still longer. Kindred genius has stood amazed at such opposition from such a quarter, but it evoked one proof more of two things First, an inventor must contemplate, at least, a moral martyrdom ; and secondly, Watt had both to contemplate and endure it. We have just seen that he once determined to invent no more " if he could resist it." But the power of his genius bore down all resistance, and he proceeded to heap inven- tion on invention, to add patent to patent, and augment the sum of his benefits to man. This, however, was not accomplished without still encountering the resistance which has ever waylaid or tried to thwart the good and the great. After Watt had brought his inventions into practical operation, by an engagement with a wealthy English engineer, and after the application of his machines had begun to open up the way to wealth to all who em- ployed them, he had still to defend them from aggressors ; nay, at one period he had to uphold his patents amid the pertinacity of vexatious lawsuits, even till he had reached the highest court in this kingdom which takes cognizance of such matters. Some of those to whom he had furnished engines, conspired to get rid of their obligations to the inventor, and fresh annoyances hence arose. His patents were formally violated, and Watt had no alternative but MISCELLANEOUS INVENTIONS. 477 to succumb to robbery, or appeal to law for his defence. He was successful ; but it shows how much his calm per- sistency was needed, to know that not merely had he thus to conflict with obstruction upon obstruction while com- pleting his machines, but had, moreover, to defend his rights against unjust assailants, even after he might suppose that the result of his labours should be quietly his own. If the oak which is most exposed to the storm be also the most deeply rooted, we see an analogy to that fact in the assaults which beat upon Watt. After all, however, only a minute portion of the inven- tions of Watt has been here described. Amid his feeble health, amid conflicts which he could ill brook, and sur- rounded with difficulties to which he was at times disposed to succumb, he persisted in his researches and experiments, sometimes even with the ardour of youth. There is reason to believe that he was the first discoverer of the composi- tion of water, at least he disputes that honour with Henry Cavendish, one of the most accomplished philosophers of his day. Among his miscellaneous doings, he invented a machine for drawing in perspective. Early in his career he invented and constructed two micrometers for ascertaining distances. In 1780 he took out a patent for a press for copying let- ters, and while the mightiest results known to human power were not beyond the range of his genius, he also invented a flexible tube for conveying water into our homes, and devised a method for heating them by steam. Nor did he stop here. The momentum of his mind, like the power of his own engine, extended its influence alike to the majestic, and the miroscopic ; he devised a new mode of constructing light-houses ; an arithmetical machine which could perform the processes of multiplication and division, and another machine for copying in miniature all kinds of sculpture. Further, he invented the screw propeller; he constructed a 478 THE ACHIEVEMENTS OF WATT. steam carriage of some size, and gave occasion to a remark quoted by Sir David Brewster, that " steam would become the universal lord, and that we should, in time, scorn post- horses. An iron railway would be a cheaper thing than a road on the common construction." That was in 1813. Such, then, are some of the achievements of Watt. It has not been attempted to give any continuous narrative of his life, but only to indicate, by a series of particulars, how he selected his path wisely, and persisted in it decidedly, in the face of such opposition as might have quelled the boldest ; and it is needless now to add that the results have been colossal in proportion to his perseverance. If it be true that one half of a man's wisdom consists in discovering what he can do, and the other half in doing it, the effects which have followed the doings of Watt prove him to have been one of the wisest of the sons of men. It were superflu- ous to dwell at length, and in general terms, on the results which have followed his inventions. Genius has vied with genius in pronouncing Watt's encomium, or describing his achievements poetry and oratory, philosophy and science, art and literature, have all laid their garlands on his tomb. He was not the first to suggest the application of steam as a moving power, but he distanced all rivals by the inven- tions which brought it under the control of man, and it is now no hyperbole to say that there is scarcely an individual certainly not a land on the face of the earth which does not profit by the inventions of Watt. Every comfort of life is augmented by its means. The tears of the mourner may be dried by its help, for he may rush to a last farewell to the object of his affection. Nation is linked to nation by ties which every ten years which pass will render it more difficult to snap. The follies of kings, and the haughty in- difference of rulers will yet melt away before this amazing elevator of the people. By the foot of mechanism Sir David HIS HONOURS. 479 Brewster has written by the foot of mechanism is trodden the wine-grape to cheer man's heart. By its hand is ground the farina that is to nourish him, and moulded the dough, the staff of his life. The scholar's alphabet, the poor man's Bible, the daily gazette, the idler's romance, and the page of wisdom, the elements of man's moral and intellectual growth, are all the cheapened products of steam. At its bidding, too, the materials of civilization quit the dark places of the earth, its coal, its iron, its silver, and its gold. The instruments of peace, the loom, the ship, and the plough, are all fashioned by its cunning hand, and even the dread engines of war, the machinery of death and destruc- tion, owe their origin to the same universal power. Such were the effects of a single worker. For honours, we have seen that Watt was not overlooked by learned and scientific bodies. Few could foresee the illi- mitable expansion which his inventions were to give to the wealth, the intercourse, the commerce, the social and moral condition of the world ; but none who were capable of un- derstanding his improvements could be blind to their in- trinsic beauty, or their scientific value. His early buffet- ings, and his persistent perseverance in his peculiar walk, were, consequently, honoured and repaid by the applause of the like-minded. He was elected a member of the Royal Societies of Edinburgh and of London, and also of the Bata- vian Society. He was created a Doctor of Laws, and named first a Correspondent, and then an Associate of the Insti- tute of France. His name is perpetuated in the British navy and elsewhere, by the majestic vessels which float it over the deep. In short, whether we consider the man, his work, or the wonders which have followed him, we know of few of the sons of men who can stand side by side with James Watt ; and to see him bearing up and pressing on, in the face of all opposition, till he had mastered every diffi- 480 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. culty, or made it tributary to his skill, reminds us of one of his own steam-winged vessels beating up against wind and tide. " Never despair," becomes more and more the maxim on which men should act while they trace the efforts, the triumphs, and the benefits of Watt. The fixed resolu- tion to be deterred by no difficulties, on which he acted all through life, gave him an object for which to strive namely, successful invention ; and a motive in the struggle namely, I have succeeded before, why not again 1 ? And he thus walked forward, from invention to invention, calm, though not unfeeling resolute, though never contentious. It was the momentum of his character that helped thus to bear him on ; and when his friends laid him in his Gothic sepulchre at Handsworth, or placed his marble statue in Westminster Abbey while a hundred other places hastened to imitate the example it was a fit sequel and consummation to a life which had done so much for the good of man. As we wander along the aisles of that Abbey, where so many of the illustrious repose, or are commemorated, poets, warriors, statesmen, nobles, commoners many whom genius made great, or philanthropy beneficent we can scarcely help rejoicing that we are Britons. The "sceptred dead" still rule as from their urns. Yet may we question whether among them all there is one who has wrought such changes, or bestowed such blessings as Watt, the indomitable labourer, the improver of the steam engine. His industry scarcely knew repose ; his firmness refused to be turned from his selected path, and, altogether, his powers place him in the very foremost rank in the great family of man. His genius may have been all his own, and a cen- tury may revolve ere there be room in the world for another Watt. But his calm intrepidity amid opposition, his earnest struggle against neglect, indifference, ignorance, or hostility, render him a model. His example, as wel] A BLANK. 481 as his inventions, he has bequeathed as a rich legacy to all time. Yet amid all the admiration which the life and the labours, the genius and the firmness of Watt display, we confess to one melancholy feeling associated with the his- tory of the great inventor. We might, with others, desire more knowledge of him than we possess, as a husband, a father, or a citizen ; but the general tone of Watt's char- acter is a sufficient guarantee for these. Those who knew him best loved him most; and it is only when we ap- proach that sacred domain in which the immortal spirit communes with God that a blank is felt, and aching de- sires rise up in a believing mind. It were wrong rudely to intrude into that domain ; and in many cases there has been somewhat too much of such intrusion. But be- tween that extreme and the other, of utter silence upon the loftiest of all subjects subjects deserving and obtaining the homage of creatures transcending man there is surely a middle way; yet Watt has not given any proof that he walked in it. On that subject his history seems blank His letters show, indeed, that he gratefully recognised an all-wise Providence, to whose goodness he owed the bless- ings which he enjoyed. His best biographer, moreover, has told us that on contemplating his death in 1819, " he calmly conversed on that and other subjects with those around him, and expressed his gratitude to the Giver of all good, who had so signally prospered the work of his hands, and blessed him with length of days, and riches, and honour." But was that were these all? Was there no Saviour, no sin, no revelation, no judgment before him? Why so uncer- tain a sound, or rather, why such utter silence upon the most solemn of all subjects and that in a man in his eighty- fourth year, one of the sagest and most sagacious that had ever walked our world? Were his hopes for hereafter 482 HOPE. founded only on the basis to which he looked when speak- ing of a departed wife? " If probity, charity, and duty to her family can entitle her to a better state, she enjoys it." These things are right, they are essential, between man and man ; but, alas, for poor humanity, if such a foundation be all ! Has not Inspiration said, " Other foundation can no man lay than that which God has laid, which is Jesus Christ?" On such a subject the mind gladly takes refuge in what one of Watt's biographers has beautifully said, " Let us cherish the hope that the calm which rested on the spirit of the pilgrim as he approached the confines of the dark valley, and which enabled him to be, himself, the gentle and affec- tionate supporter of his sorrowing family and the friends who surrounded his couch, was one which caught its radi- ance from a far higher sphere than that of the purest human philosophy even from a simple and child-like reliance on the infinite merits of Him whose name is the Wonderful." Apart from that hope, the close of the life of James Watt was sad beyond endurance ; and from such a contemplation we gladly turn away to think of the result of his inventions in helping on the time when at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess. The main object of these remarks has been to fix atten- tion on the grand results of determined perseverance on the part of Watt, in spite of a hundred obstructions. These results, we have seen, are already well-nigh world-wide, and are increasing from day to day. The sweep of his influence ranges from the mightiest human production down to the most minute. The Alps cannot withstand the power which he has taught man to wield, while the very ocean is rendered more smooth as the highway of the nations. In the right sense, liberty, equality, and brotherhood have all been un- speakably advanced by the inventions of Watt. It is often HIDDEN POWER. 483 remarked that in former ages, the events which occurred in God's world were the result of long elaborations, whereas now, all is proceeding with eager rapidity to some great con- summation. How much of that is owing to the labours of that mind whose life-work we have been trying to trace ! How deeply has he left his mark upon man, and in the world where he sojourned, toiled, and struggled, or where he suffered and enjoyed for eighty-four years! Is another Watt needed prior to the final consummation, when the pur- poses of the Supreme shall all be wrought out? Or has he unconsciously placed within our reach the great renovator of our poor world, as far as material means can promote such results ? At a time when difficulties encompassed him, Watt was invited to settle in Russia, and offered a fixed annual income of .1000. He declined the offer and clung to his country ; but what might have been that country's present condition, or what that of Russia of Europe of the world, had Watt consented to transfer his genius to the empire of an autocrat ? Few things can indicate more clearly the power of a pre- sent God than the mighty results which often flow from feeble or speck-like commencements. What seems so insig- nificant, we ask once more, as a word? Perhaps it is the utterance of a little child; but even though it be that of some mighty mind, how puny it seems ! A slight impression made upon the air an impression slighter still upon the ear, and that seems all a thing more fleeting than a flash. Yet, such a word may become like the very power of God ; it may be life from the dead the birth moment of glory, honour, and immortality. Or even less than a word may suffice. A mysterious Sufferer once stood at the tribunal of truculent, time-serv- ing men. While there, one of his professed adherents 484 THE TRUE WISDOM. denied him, and that with reiterated imprecations. The Mighty and Innocent Accused then " looked upon " the man, and that look went right through the conscience, the heart, and the whole soul ; there is reason to believe that he walked humbly till his dying day in consequence of that mere look Among the Alps there are spots where the traveller must advance in silence. He may not utter a syllable ; and the reason is that his mere words might so agitate the air as to detach the sharp-poised avalanche, and launch it with death and destruction in its mass. Now it seems one of these little incidents charged with immeasurable results, to notice how the repairing of New- comen's engine, in the University of Glasgow, became the pivot on which Watt's history turned. It directed or de- veloped, though it did not create, that tendency of his mind which is now diffusing its effects round a globe. And surely it were alike unphilosophical and unreasonable to overlook the All-wise, or decline to recognise the operation of his hand in such a case. None so mighty as they in whose weakness his strength is made perfect. None so wise as they to whom he is a counsellor. None so prosperous as they whom he crowns with his blessing. None so stead- fast or decided as they who seek their sufficiency in him ; and, none so woe-worn, so baffled, or so wretched as they who are ignorant of the grace and the glory of Him who is tLe Father of lights, the Author of every good and every per- fect gift.