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 MEMOIR OF FLEEMING JENKIN 
 
 [Authors Edition]
 
 MEMOIR 
 
 FLEEMING JENKIN 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 1899
 
 Q 
 
 PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. 
 
 ON the death of Fleeming Jenkin, his family 
 and friends determined to publish a selection of 
 his various papers; by way of introduction, the 
 following pages were drawn up ; and the whole, 
 forming two considerable volumes, has been is- 
 sued in England. In the States, it has not been 
 thought advisable to reproduce the whole ; and 
 the memoir appearing alone, shorn of that other 
 matter which was at once its occasion and its 
 justification, so large an account of a man so 
 little known may seem to a stranger out of all 
 proportion. But Jenkin was a man much more 
 remarkable than the mere bulk or merit of his 
 work approves him. It was in the world, in the 
 commerce of friendship, by his brave attitude 
 towards life, by his high moral value and un- 
 wearied intellectual effort, that he struck the 
 
 (v) 
 
 857430
 
 vi Preface to the American Edition. 
 
 minds of his contemporaries. His was an in- 
 dividual figure, such as authors delight to draw, 
 and all men to read of, in the pages of a novel. 
 His was a face worth painting for its own sake. 
 If the sitter shall not seem to have justified the 
 portrait, if Jenkin, after his death, shall not 
 continue to make new friends, the fault will be 
 
 altogether mine. 
 
 R. L. S. 
 SARANAC, Oct., 1887.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Jenkins of Stowting Fleeming's grandfather Mrs. Buck- 
 ner's fortune Fleeming's father; goes to sea; at St. 
 Helena ; meets King Tom ; service in the West Indies ; 
 end of his career The Campbell-Jacksons Fleeming's 
 mother Fleeming's Uncle John I 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 18331851. 
 
 Birth and Childhood Edinburgh Frankfort-on-the-Main 
 Paris The Revolution of 1848 The Insurrection Flight 
 to Italy Sympathy with Italy The Insurrection in Genoa 
 A Student in Genoa The Lad and his Mother . . 34 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 18511858. 
 
 Return to England Fleeming at Fairbaira's Experience in 
 a Strike Dr. Bell and Greek Architecture The Gaskells 
 Fleeming at Greenwich The Austins Fleeming and 
 the Austins His Engagement Fleeming and Sir W. 
 Thomson 71 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 18591868. 
 
 Fleeming's Marriage His Married Life Professional Diffi- 
 culties Life at Claygate Illness of Mrs. F. Jenkin : and 
 of Fleeming Appointment to the Chair at Edinburgh 101 
 
 (vii)
 
 viii Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 FAQS 
 
 Notes of Telegraph Voyages, 1858 to 1873 .... 123 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 18691885. 
 
 Edinburgh Colleagues Farrago Vitce\. The Family Cir- 
 cle Fleeming and his Sons Highland Life The Cruise 
 of the Steam Launch Summer in Styria Rustic Manners 
 II. The Drama Private Theatricals III. Sanitary As- 
 sociationsThe Phonograph IV. Fleeming's Acquaint- 
 ance with a Student His late Maturity of Mind Religion 
 and Morality His Love of Heroism Taste in Literature 
 V. His Talk His late Popularity Letter from M. 
 Trelat 198 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 18751885. 
 
 Mrs. Jenkin's Illness Captain Jenkin The Golden Wedding 
 Death of Uncle John Death of Mr. and Mrs. Austin 
 Illness and Death of the Captain Death of Mrs. Jeukin 
 Effect on Fleeming Telpherage The End . . . 357 
 
 APPENDIX 977
 
 MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 FLEEMING JENKIN 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Jenkins of Stowting Fleeming's grandfather Mrs. Buckner's 
 fortune Fleeming's father ; goes to sea ; at St. Helena ; meets 
 King Tom ; service in the West Indies ; end of his career The 
 Campbell-Jacksons Fleeming's mother Fleeming's uncle John. 
 
 TN the reign of Henry VIII., a family of the 
 * name of Jenkin, claiming to come from York, 
 and bearing the arms of Jenkin ap Philip of St. 
 Melans, are found reputably settled in the county 
 of Kent. Persons of strong genealogical pinion 
 pass from William Jenkin, Mayor of Folke- 
 stone in 1555, to his contemporary 'John 
 Jenkin, of the Citie of York, Receiver General 
 of the County,' and thence, by way of Jenkin ap 
 Philip, to the proper summit of any Cambrian 
 pedigree a prince; 'Guaith Voeth, Lord of 
 Cardigan/ the name and style of him. It may
 
 2 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 suffice, however, for the present, that these 
 Kentish Jenkins must have undoubtedly derived 
 from Wales, and being a stock of some efficiency, 
 they struck root and grew to wealth and conse 
 quence in their new home. 
 
 Of their consequence we have proof enough 
 in the fact that not only was William Jenkin (as 
 already mentioned) Mayor of Folkestone in 
 1555, but no less than twenty-three times in the 
 succeeding century and a half, a Jenkin (Will- 
 iam, Thomas, Henry, or Robert) sat in the sarm 
 place of humble honour. Of their wealth wt/ 
 know that in the reign of Charles L, Thomas 
 Jenkin of Eythorne was more than once in the 
 market buying land, and notably, in 1633, ac- 
 quired the manor of Stowting Court. This was 
 an estate of some 320 acres, six miles from 
 Hythe, in the Bailiwick and Hundred of Stow 
 ting, and the Lathe of Shipway, held of the 
 Crown in capite by the service of six men and 
 a constable to defend the passage of the sea at 
 Sandgate. It had a chequered history before it 
 fell into the hands of Thomas of Eythorne, hav- 
 ing been sold and given from one to another 
 to the Archbishop, to Hermgods, to the Burgh-
 
 Genealogy a Human Science. 3 
 
 ershes, to Pavelys, Trivets, Cliffords, Wenlocks, 
 Beauchamps, Nevilles, Kempes, and Clarkes : a 
 piece of Kentish ground condemned to see new 
 faces and to be no man's home. But from 1633 
 onward it became the anchor of the Jenkin 
 family in Kent; and though passed on from 
 brother to brother, held in shares between uncle 
 and nephew, burthened by debts and jointures, 
 and at least once sold and bought in again, it 
 remains to this day in the hands of the direct 
 line. It is not my design, nor have I the neces- 
 sary knowledge, to give a history of this ob- 
 scure family. But this is an age when genealogy 
 has taken a new lease of life, and become for the 
 first time a human science ; so that we no longer 
 study it in quest of the Guaith Voeths, but to 
 trace out some of the secrets of descent and des- 
 tiny ; and as we study, we think less of Sir Ber- 
 nard Burke and more of Mr. Galton. Not only 
 do our character and talents lie upon the anvil 
 and receive their temper during generations ; 
 but the very plot of our life's story unfolds itself 
 on a scale of centuries, and the biography of the 
 man is only an episode in the epic of the family. 
 From this point of view I ask the reader's leave
 
 4/ Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 to begin this notice of a remarkable man who 
 was my friend, with the accession of his great- 
 grandfather, John Jenkin. 
 
 This John Jenkin, a grandson of Damaris 
 Kingsley, of the family of ' Westward Ho ! ' was 
 born in 1727, and married Elizabeth, daugh- 
 ter of Thomas Frewen, of Church House, Nor- 
 thiam. The Jenkins had now been long enough 
 intermarrying with their Kentish neighbours to 
 be Kentish folk themselves in all but name ; and 
 with the Frewens in particular their connec- 
 tion is singularly involved. John and his wife 
 were each descended in the third degree from 
 another Thomas Frewen, Vicar of Northiam, 
 and brother to /*.:cepted Frewen, Archbishop of 
 York. John's mother had married a Frewen for 
 a second husband. And the last complication 
 was to be add ' <by the Bishop of Chichester's 
 brother, Charles Buckner, Vice-Admiral of the 
 White, who was twice married, first to a paternal 
 cousin of Squire John, and second to Anne, only 
 sister of the Squire's wife, and already the widow 
 of another Frewen. The reader must bear Mrs. 
 Buckner in mind ; it was by means of that lady 
 that Fleeming Jenkin began life as a poor man.
 
 Stephen Jenkin, the Vicar. -\ 
 
 Meanwhile, the relationship of any Frewen to 
 any Jenkin at the end of these evolutions pre- 
 sents a problem almost insoluble ; and we need 
 not wonder if Mrs. John, thus exercised in her 
 immediate circle, was in her old age ' a great 
 genealogist of all Sussex families, and much con- 
 sulted.' The names Frewen and Jenkin may 
 almost seem to have been interchangeable at 
 will ; and yet Fate proceeds with such particu- 
 larity that it was perhaps on the point of name 
 that the family was ruined. 
 
 The John Jenkins had a family of one daughter 
 and five extravagant and unpractical sons. The 
 eldest, Stephen, entered the Church and held 
 the living of Salehurst, where l.j offered, we may 
 hope, an extreme example of the clergy of the 
 age. He was a handsome figure of a man ; jo- 
 vial and jocular ; fond of his g "-en, which pro- 
 duced under his care the finest fruits of the 
 neighbourhood; and like all the family, very 
 choice in horses. He drove tandem ; like Jehu, 
 furiously. His saddle horse, Captain (for the 
 names of horses are piously preserved in the 
 family chronicle which I follow), was trained to 
 break into a gallop as soon as the vicar's foot
 
 6 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 was thrown across its back ; nor would the rein 
 be drawn in the nine miles between Northiam 
 and the Vicarage door. Debt was the man's 
 proper element ; he used to skulk from arrest 
 in the chancel of his church ; and the speed of 
 Captain may have come sometimes handy. At 
 an early age this unconventional parson married 
 his cook, and by her he had two daughters and 
 one son. One of the daughters died unmarried ; 
 the other imitated her father, and married * im- 
 prudently.' The son, still more gallantly con- 
 tinuing the tradition, entered the army, loaded 
 himself with debt, was forced to sell out, took 
 refuge in the Marines, and was lost on the Dog- 
 ger Bank in the war-ship Minotaur. If he did 
 not marry below him, like his father, his sister, 
 and a certain great-uncle William, it was per- 
 haps because he never married at all. 
 
 The second brother, Thomas, who was em- 
 ployed in the General Post-Office, followed in 
 all material points the example of Stephen, 
 married ' not very creditably,' and spent all the 
 money he could lay his hands on. He died 
 without issue; as did the fourth brother, John, 
 who was of weak intellect and feeble health, and
 
 Fleemings Grandfather. 7 
 
 the fifth brother, William, whose brief career as 
 one of Mrs. Buckner's satellites will fall to be 
 considered later on. So soon, then, as the Mino- 
 taur had struck upon the Dogger Bank, Stow- 
 ting and the line of the Jenkin family fell on the 
 shoulders of the third brother, Charles. 
 
 Facility and self-indulgence are the family 
 marks; facility (to judge by these imprudent 
 marriages) being at once their quality and their 
 defect ; but in the case of Charles, a man of 
 exceptional beauty and sweetness both of face 
 and disposition, the family fault had quite grown 
 to be a virtue, and we find him in consequence 
 the drudge and milk-cow of his relatives. Born 
 in 1766, Charles served at sea in his youth, and 
 smelt both salt water and powder. The Jenkins 
 had inclined hitherto, as far as I can make out, 
 to the land service. Stephen's son had been a 
 soldier; William (fourth of Stowting) had been 
 an officer of the unhappy Braddock's in America, 
 where, by the way, he owned and afterwards sold 
 an estate on the James River, called after the 
 parental seat; of which I should like well to 
 hear if it still bears the name. It was probably 
 by the influence of Captain Buckner, already con-
 
 8 Memoir of Fieeming Jenkin. 
 
 nected with the family by his first marriage, that 
 Charles Jenkin turned his mind in the direction 
 of the navy ; and it was in Buckner's own ship, 
 the Proth(fe, 64, that the lad made his only cam- 
 paign. It was in the days of Rodney's war, 
 when the Prothfo, we read, captured two large 
 privateers to windward of Barbadoes, and was 
 ' materially and distinguishedly engaged ' in 
 both the actions with De Grasse. While at sea 
 Charles kept a journal, and made strange archaic 
 pilot-book sketches, part plan, part elevation, 
 some of which survive for the amusement of 
 posterity. He did a good deal of surveying, so 
 that here we may perhaps lay our finger on the 
 beginning of Fleeming's education as an engin- 
 eer. What is still more strange, among the 
 relics of the handsome midshipman and his stay 
 in the gun-room of the Prothte, I find a code of 
 signals graphically represented, for all the world 
 as it would have been done by his grandson. 
 
 On the declaration of peace, Charles, because 
 he had suffered from scurvy, received his mother's 
 orders to retire ; and he was not the man to re- 
 fuse a request, far less to disobey a command 
 Thereupon he turned farmer, a trade he was to
 
 The Sailor-Farmer at Stowting. 9 
 
 practice on a large scale; and we find him mar- 
 ried to a Miss Schirr, a woman of some fortune, 
 the daughter of a London merchant. Stephen, 
 the not very reverend, was still alive, galloping 
 about the country or skulking in his chancel. 
 It does not appear whether he let or sold the 
 paternal manor to Charles ; one or other, it 
 must have been ; and the sailor-farmer settled 
 at Stowting, with his wife, his mother, his un- 
 married sister, and his sick brother John. Out 
 of the six people of whom his nearest family 
 consisted, three were in his own house, and two 
 others (the horse-leeches, Stephen and Thomas) 
 he appears to have continued to assist with more 
 amiability than wisdom. He hunted, belonged 
 to the Yeomanry, owned famous horses, Mag- 
 gie and Lucy, the latter coveted by royalty 
 itself. ' Lord Rokeby, his neighbour, called 
 him kinsman,' writes my artless chronicler, 
 * and altogether life was very cheery.' At 
 Stowting his three sons, John, Charles, and 
 Thomas Frewen, and his younger daughter, 
 Anna, were all born to him ; and the reader 
 should here be told that it is through the re- 
 port of this second Charles (born 1801) that he
 
 io Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 has been looking on at these confused passages 
 of family history. 
 
 In the year 1805 the ruin of the Jenkins was 
 begun. It was the work of a fallacious lady al- 
 ready mentioned, Aunt Anne Frewen, a sister 
 of Mrs. John. Twice married, first to her cousin 
 Charles Frewen, clerk to the Court of Chancery, 
 Brunswick Herald, and Usher of the Black Rod, 
 and secondly to Admiral Buckner, she was de- 
 nied issue in both beds, and being very rich 
 she died worth about 6o,ooo/., mostly in land 
 she was in perpetual quest of an heir. The 
 mirage of this fortune hung before successive 
 members of the Jenkin family until her death 
 in 1825, when it dissolved and left the latest 
 Alnaschar face to face with bankruptcy. The 
 grandniece, Stephen's daughter, the one who 
 had not * married imprudently,' appears to have 
 been the first ; for she was taken abroad by the 
 golden aunt, and died in her care at Ghent in 
 1792. Next she adopted William, the youngest 
 of the five nephews ; took him abroad with her 
 it seems as if that were in the formula ; was 
 shut up with him in Paris by the Revolution ; 
 brought him back to Windsor, and got him a
 
 Mrs. Buckner s Fortune. 1 1 
 
 place in the King's Body-Guard, where he at- 
 tracted the notice of George III. by his pro- 
 ficiency in German. In 1797, being on guard at 
 St. James's Palace, William took a cold which 
 carried him off ; and Aunt Anne was once more 
 left heirless. Lastly, in 1805, perhaps moved by 
 the Admiral, who had a kindness for his old 
 midshipman, perhaps pleased by the good looks 
 and the good nature of the man himself, Mrs. 
 Buckner turned her eyes upon Charles Jenkin. 
 He was not only to be the heir, however, he was 
 to be the chief hand in a somewhat wild scheme 
 of family farming. Mrs. Jenkin, the mother, 
 contributed 164 acres of land; Mrs. Buckner, 
 570, some at Northiam, some farther off ; Charles 
 let one half of Stowting to a tenant, and threw 
 the other and various scattered parcels into 
 the common enterprise ; so that the whole 
 farm amounted to near upon a thousand acres, 
 and was scattered over thirty miles of country. 
 The ex-seaman of thirty-nine, on whose wisdom 
 and ubiquity the scheme depended, was to live 
 in the meanwhile without care or fear. He was 
 to check himself in nothing ; his two extrava- 
 gances, valuable horses and worthless brothers,
 
 12 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 were to be indulged in comfort ; and whether 
 the year quite paid itself or not, whether suc- 
 cessive years left accumulated savings or only a 
 growing deficit, the fortune of the golden aunt 
 should in the end repair all. 
 
 On this understanding Charles Jenkin trans- 
 ported his family to Church House, Northiam : 
 Charles the second, then a child of three, among 
 the number. Through the eyes of the boy we 
 have glimpses of the life that followed : of Ad- 
 miral and Mrs. Buckner driving up from Wind- 
 sor in a coach and six, two post-horses and their 
 own four ; of the house full of visitors, the great 
 roasts at the fire, the tables in the servants' hall 
 laid for thirty or forty for a month together ; of 
 the daily press of neighbours, many of whom, 
 Frew^ens, Lords, Bishops, Batchellors, and 
 Dynes, were also kinsfolk; and the parties ' un- 
 der the great spreading chestnuts of the old fore 
 court,' where the young people danced and 
 made merry to the music of the village band. 
 Or perhaps, in the depth of winter, the father 
 would bid young Charles saddle his pony ; they 
 would ride the thirty miles from Northiam to 
 Stowting, with the snow to the pony's saddle
 
 Fleemings Father. 13 
 
 girths, and be received by the .tenants like 
 princes. 
 
 This life of delights, with the continual visible 
 comings and goings of the golden aunt, was well 
 qualified to relax the fibre of the lads. John, 
 the heir, a yeoman and a fox-hunter, ' loud and 
 notorious with his whip and spurs,' settled down 
 into a kind of Tony Lumpkin, waiting for the 
 shoes of his father and his aunt. Thomas 
 Frewen, the youngest, is briefly dismissed as ' a 
 handsome beau '; but he had the merit or the 
 good fortune to become a doctor of medicine, so 
 that when the crash came he was not empty-hand- 
 ed for the war of life. Charles, at the day-school 
 of Northiam, grew so well acquainted with the 
 rod, that his floggings became matter of pleas- 
 antry and reached the ears of Admiral Buckner. 
 Hereupon that tall, rough-voiced, formidable 
 uncle entered with the lad into a covenant: 
 every time that Charles was thrashed he was to 
 pay the Admiral a penny ; every day that he 
 escaped, the process was to be reversed. ' I 
 recollect,' writes Charles, ' going crying to my 
 mother to be taken to the Admiral to pay my 
 debt.' It would seem by these terms the spec-
 
 14 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 ulation was a losing one ; yet it is probable it 
 paid indirectly by bringing the boy under re- 
 mark. The Admiral was no enemy to dunces ; 
 he loved courage, and Charles, while yet little 
 more than a baby, would ride the great horse 
 into the pond. Presently it was decided that 
 here was the stuff of a fine sailor; and at an 
 early period the name of Charles Jenkin was 
 entered on a ship's books. 
 
 From Northiam he was sent to another school 
 at Boonshill, near Rye, where the master took 
 ' infinite delight ' in strapping him. ' It keeps 
 me warm and makes you grow,' he used to say. 
 And the stripes were not altogether wasted, for 
 the dunce, though still very ' raw,' made prog- 
 ress with his studies. It was known, moreover, 
 that he was going to sea, always a ground of 
 pre-eminence with schoolboys ; and in his case 
 the glory was not altogether future, it wore 
 a present form when he came driving to 
 Rye behind four horses in the same carriage 
 with ,'in Admiral. ' I was not a little proud, you 
 may believe,' says he. 
 
 In 1814, when he was thirteen years of age, 
 he was carried by his father to Chichester to the
 
 ' Charles will restore the old Family? 15 
 
 Bishop's Palace. The Bishop had heard from 
 his brother the Admiral that Charles was likely 
 to do well, and had an order from Lord Melville 
 for the lad's admission to the Royal Naval Col- 
 lege at Portsmouth. Both the Bishop and the 
 Admiral patted him on the head and said, 
 ' Charles will restore the old family '; by which 
 I gather with some surprise that, even in these 
 days of open house at Northiam and golden 
 hope of my aunt's fortune, the family was sup- 
 posed to stand in need of restoration. But the 
 past is apt to look brighter than nature, above 
 all to those enamoured of their genealogy ; and 
 the ravages of Stephen and Thomas must have 
 always given matter of alarm. 
 
 What with the flattery of bishops and admi- 
 rals, the fine company in which he found 
 himself at Portsmouth, his visits home, with 
 their gaiety and greatness of life, his visits 
 to Mrs. Buckner (soon a widow) at Windsor, 
 where he had a pony kept for him, and visit- 
 ed at Lord Melville's and Lord Harcourt's 
 and the Leveson-Gowers, he began to have 
 'bumptious notions,' and his head was 'some- 
 what turned with fine people ; as to some ex-
 
 1 6 Memoir of Fleeming Jen kin. 
 
 tent it remained throughout his innocent and 
 honourable life. 
 
 In this frame of mind the boy was appointed 
 to the Conqueror, Captain Davie, humorously 
 known as Gentle Johnnie. The captain had 
 earned this name by his style of discipline, which 
 would have figured well in the pages of Marryat : 
 ' Put the prisoner's head in a bag and give him 
 another dozen ! ' survives as a specimen of his 
 commands ; and the men were often punished 
 twice or thrice in a week. On board the ship 
 of this disciplinarian, Charles and his father were 
 carried in a billy-boat from Sheerness in Decem- 
 ber, 1816 : Charles with an outfit suitable to his 
 pretensions, a twenty-guinea sextant and 120 
 dollars in silver, which were ordered into the 
 care of the gunner. ' The old clerks and mates,' 
 he writes, ' used to laugh and jeer me for joining 
 the ship in a billy-boat, and when they found I 
 was from Kent, vowed I was an old Kentish 
 smuggler. This to my pride, you will believe, 
 was not a little offensive.' 
 
 The Conqueror carried the flag of Vice-Ad- 
 miral Plampin, commanding at the Cape and 
 St. Helena ; and at that all-important islet, in
 
 Life on the Guard-ship. 1 7 
 
 July, 1817, she relieved the flagship of Sir Pul- 
 teney Malcolm. Thus it befel that Charles Jen- 
 kin, coming too late for the epic of the French 
 wars, played a small part in the dreary and dis- 
 graceful afterpiece of St. Helena. Life on the 
 guard-ship was onerous and irksome. The anchor 
 was never lifted, sail never made, the great guns 
 were silent ; none was allowed on shore except 
 on duty ; all day the movements of the imperial 
 captive were signalled to and fro ; all night the 
 boats rowed guard around the accessible por- 
 tions of the coast. This prolonged stagnation 
 and petty watchfulness in what Napoleon him- 
 self called that ' unchristian' climate, told cruel- 
 ly on the health of the ship's company. In 
 eighteen months, according to O'Meara, the 
 Conqueror had lost one hundred and ten men 
 and invalided home one hundred and seven, 
 ' being more than a third of her complement. 
 It does not seem that our young midshipman so 
 much as once set eyes on Bonaparte ; and yet in 
 other ways Jenkin was more fortunate than 
 some of his comrades. He drew in water-colour ; 
 not so badly as his father, yet ill enough ; and 
 this art was so rare aboard the Conqueror that
 
 i 8 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 even his humble proficiency marked him out and 
 procured him some alleviations. Admiral Plam- 
 pin had succeeded Napoleon at the Briars ; and 
 here he had young Jenkin staying with him to 
 make sketches of the historic house. One of 
 these is before me as I write, and gives a strange 
 notion of the arts in our old English Navy. Yet 
 it was again as an artist that the lad was taken 
 for a run to Rio, and apparently for a second 
 outing in a ten-gun brig. These, and a cruise 
 of six weeks to windward of the island under- 
 taken by the Conqueror herself in quest of health, 
 were the only breaks in three years of murderous 
 inaction ; and at the end of that period Jenkin 
 was invalided home, having ' lost his health en- 
 tirely.' 
 
 As he left the deck of the guard-ship the his- 
 toric part of his career came to an end. For 
 forty-two years he continued to serve his coun- 
 try obscurely on the seas, sometimes thanked for 
 inconspicuous and honourable services, but de- 
 nied any opportunity of serious distinction. He 
 was first two years in the Larnc, Captain Tait, 
 hunting pirates and keeping a watch on the 
 Turkish and Greek squadrons in the Archipelago
 
 Meets King Tom. ig 
 
 Captain Tait was a favourite with Sir Thomas 
 Maitland, High Commissioner of the Ionian Isl- 
 ands King Tom as he was called who fre- 
 quently took passage in the Larne. King Tom 
 knew every inch of the Mediterranean, and was 
 a terror to the officers of the watch. He would 
 come on deck at night ; and with his broad 
 Scotch accent, ' Well, sir,' he would say, ' what 
 depth of water have ye ? Well now, sound ; and 
 ye'll just find so or so many fathoms,' as the case 
 might be; and the obnoxious passenger was 
 generally right. On one occasion, as the ship 
 was going into Corfu, Sir Thomas came up the 
 hatchway and cast his eyes towards the gallows. 
 ' Bangham ' Charles Jenkin heard him say to 
 his aide-de-camp, Lord Bangham ' where the 
 devil is that other chap? I left four fellows 
 hanging there ; now I can only see three. Mind 
 there is another there to-morrow.' And sure 
 enough there was another Greek dangling the 
 next day. ' Captain Hamilton, of the Cam* 
 brian, kept the Greeks in order afloat,' writes 
 my author, ' and King Tom ashore.' 
 
 From 1823 onward, the chief scene of Charles 
 Jenkin's activities was in the West Indies, where
 
 2O Memoir of F teeming Jen kin. 
 
 he was engaged off and on till 1844, now as a 
 subaltern, now in a vessel of his own, hunting 
 out pirates, ' then very notorious ' in the Leeward 
 Islands, cruising after slavers, or carrying dollars 
 and provisions for the Government. While yet 
 a midshipman, he accompanied Mr. Cockburn 
 to Caraccas and had a sight of Bolivar. In the 
 brigantine Griffon^ which he commanded in his 
 last years in the West Indies, he carried aid to 
 Guadeloupe after the earthquake, and twice 
 earned the thanks of Government : once for an 
 expedition to Nicaragua to extort, under threat 
 of a blockade, proper apologies and a sum of 
 money due to certain British merchants ; and 
 once during an insurrection in San Domingo, 
 for the rescue of certain others from a perilous 
 imprisonment and the recovery of a ' chest of 
 money ' of which they had been robbed. Once, 
 on the other hand, he earned his share of public 
 censure. This was in 1837, when he command- 
 ed the Romney lying in the inner harbour of 
 Havannah. The Romney was in no proper sense 
 a man-of-war ; she was a slave-hulk, the bonded 
 warehouse of the Mixed Slave Commission ; 
 where negroes, captured out of slavers under
 
 The Mixed Slave Commission. 21 
 
 Spanish colours, were detained provisionally, 
 till the Commission should decide upon their 
 case and either set them free or bind them to 
 apprenticeship. To this ship, already an eye- 
 sore to the authorities, a Cuban slave made his 
 escape. The position was invidious ; on one 
 side were the tradition of the British flag and 
 the state of public sentiment at home ; on the 
 other, the certainty that if the slave were kept, 
 the Romney would be ordered at once out of 
 the harbour, and the object of the Mixed Com- 
 mission compromised. Without consultation 
 with any other officer, Captain Jenkin (then 
 lieutenant) returned the man to shore and took 
 the Captain-General's receipt. Lord Palmer- 
 ston approved his course ; but the zealots of 
 the anti-slave trade movement (never to be 
 named without respect) were much dissatisfied ; 
 and thirty-nine years later, the matter was again 
 canvassed in Parliament, and Lord Palmerston 
 and Captain Jenkin defended by Admiral Er- 
 skine in a letter to the Times (March 13, 1876). 
 In 1845, while still lieutenant, Charles Jenkin 
 acted as Admiral Pigot's flag captain in the 
 Cove of Cork, where there were some thirty
 
 22 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 pennants ; and about the same time, closed his 
 career by an act of personal bravery. He had 
 proceeded with his boats to the help of a mer- 
 chant vessel, whose cargo of combustibles had 
 taken fire and was smouldering under hatches ; 
 his sailors were in the hold, where the fumes 
 were already heavy, and Jenkin was on deck 
 directing operations, when he found his orders 
 were no longer answered from below : he jumped 
 down without hesitation and slung up several 
 insensible men with his own hand. For this 
 act, he received a letter from the Lords of the 
 Admiralty expressing a sense of his gallantry ; 
 and pretty soon after was promoted Com- 
 mander, superseded, and could never again ob- 
 tain employment. 
 
 In 1828 or 1829, Charles Jenkin was in the 
 same watch with another midshipman, Robert 
 Colin Campbell Jackson, who introduced him 
 to his family in Jamaica. The father, the Hon- 
 ourable Robert Jackson, Custos Rotulorum of 
 Kingston, came of a Yorkshire family, said tc 
 be originally Scotch ; and on the mother's side, 
 counted kinship with some of the Forbeses. 
 The mother was Susan Campbell, one of the
 
 The Ca mpbell-Jat ksons. 2 3 
 
 Campbells of Auchenbreck. Her father Colin, 
 a merchant in Greenock, is said to have been 
 the heir to both the estate and the baronetcy ; 
 he claimed neither, which casts a doubt upon 
 the fact ; but he had pride enough himself, and 
 taught enough pride to his family, for any 
 station or descent in Christendom. He had 
 four daughters. One married an Edinburgh 
 writer, as I have it on a first account a min- 
 ister, according to another a man at least of 
 reasonable station, but not good enough for the 
 Campbells of Auchenbreck ; and the erring one 
 was instantly discarded. Another married an 
 actor of the name of Adcock, whom (as I re- 
 ceive the tale) she had seen acting in a barn ; 
 but the phrase should perhaps be regarded 
 rather as a measure of the family annoyance, 
 than a mirror of the facts. The marriage was 
 not in itself unhappy ; Adcock was a gentleman 
 by birth and made a good husband ; the family 
 reasonably prospered, and one of the daughters 
 married no less a man than Clarkson Stanfield. 
 But by the father, and the two remaining Miss 
 Campbells, people of fierce passions and a truly 
 Highland pride, the derogation was bitterly re-
 
 24 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 sented. For long the sisters lived estranged 
 then, Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Adcock were rec- 
 onciled for a moment, only to quarrel the more 
 fiercely; the name of Mrs. Adcock was pro- 
 scribed, nor did it again pass her sister's lips, 
 until the morning when she announced : ' Mary 
 Adcock is dead ; I saw her in her shroud last 
 night.' Second sight was hereditary in the 
 house; and sure enough, as I have it reported, 
 on that very night Mrs. Adcock had passed 
 away. Thus, of the four daughters, two had, 
 according to the idiotic notions of their friends, 
 disgraced themselves in marriage ; the others 
 supported the honour of the family with a bet- 
 ter grace, and married West Indian magnates of 
 whom, I believe, the world has never heard and 
 would not care to hear : So strange a thing is 
 this hereditary pride. Of Mr. Jackson, beyond 
 the fact that he was Fleeming's grandfather, I 
 know naught. His wife, as I have said, was a 
 woman of fierce passions ; she would tie her 
 house slaves to the bed and lash them with her 
 own hand ; and her conduct to her wild and 
 down-going sons, was a mixture of almost 
 insane self-sacrifice and wholly insane violence
 
 Fleemings Mother. 25 
 
 of temper. She had three sons and one 
 daughter. Two of the sons went utterly to 
 ruin, and reduced their mother to poverty. 
 The third went to India, a slim, delicate 
 lad, and passed so wholly from the knowl- 
 edge of his relatives that he was thought to be 
 long dead. Years later, when his sister was 
 living in Genoa, a red-bearded man of great 
 strength and stature, tanned by years in India, 
 and his hands covered v/ith barbaric gems, en- 
 tered the room unannounced, as she was playing 
 the piano, lifted her from her seat, and kissed 
 her. It was her brother, suddenly returned out 
 of a past that was never very clearly under- 
 stood, with the rank of general, many strange 
 gems, many cloudy stories of adventure, and 
 next his heart, the daguerreotype of an Indian 
 prince with whom he had mixed blood. 
 
 The last of this wild family, the daughter, 
 Henrietta Camilla, became the wife of the mid- 
 shipman Charles, and the mother of the subject 
 of this notice, Fleeming Jenkin. She was a 
 woman of parts and courage. Not beautiful, 
 she had a far higher gift, the art of seeming so ; 
 played the part of a belle in society, while far
 
 2 6 Memoir of F teeming Jen kin. 
 
 lovelier women were left unattended ; and up to 
 old age, had much of both the exigency and 
 the charm that mark that character. She drew 
 naturally, for she had no training, with unusual 
 skill ; and it was from her, and not from the two 
 naval artists, that Fleeming inherited his eye 
 and hand. She played on the harp and sang 
 with something beyond the talent of an amateur. 
 At the age of seventeen, she heard Pasta in 
 Paris ; flew up in a fire of youthful enthusiasm ; 
 and the next morning, all alone and without in- 
 troduction, found her way into the presence of 
 the prima donna and begged for lessons. Pasta 
 made her sing, kissed her when she had done, 
 and though she refused to be her mistress, 
 placed her in the hands of a friend. Nor was 
 this all ; for when Pasta returned to Paris, she 
 sent for the girl (once at least) to test her prog- 
 ress. But Mrs. Jenkin's talents were not so re- 
 markable as her fortitude and strength of will ; 
 and it was in an art for which she had no nat- 
 ural taste (the art of literature) that she ap- 
 peared before the public. Her novels, though 
 they attained and merited a certain popularity 
 both in France and England, are a measure only
 
 Mrs. Jenkins dauntless Courage. 27 
 
 of her courage. They were a task, not a be- 
 loved task ; they were written for money in days 
 of poverty, and they served their end. In the 
 least thing as well as in the greatest, in every 
 province of life as well as in her novels, she dis- 
 played the same capacity of taking infinite pains, 
 which descended to her son. When she was 
 about forty (as near as her age was known) she 
 lost her voice ; set herself at once to learn the 
 piano, working eight hours a day ; and attained 
 to such proficiency that her collaboration in 
 chamber music was courted by professionals. 
 And more than twenty years later, the old lady 
 might have been seen dauntlessly beginning the 
 study of Hebrew. This is the more ethereal 
 part of courage ; nor was she wanting in the 
 more material. Once when a neighbouring 
 groom, a married man, had seduced her maid, 
 Mrs. Jenkin mounted her horse, rode over to 
 the stable entrance and horsewhipped the man 
 with her own hand. 
 
 How a match came about between this talent- 
 ed and spirited girl and the young midshipman, 
 is not very easy to conceive. Charles Jenkin 
 was one of the finest creatures breathing ; loy
 
 28 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 alty, devotion, simple natural piety, boyish 
 cheerfulness, tender and manly sentiment in the 
 old sailor fashion, were in him inherent and in- 
 extinguishable either by age, suffering, or in- 
 justice. He looked, as he was, every inch a 
 gentleman ; he must have been everywhere 
 notable, even among handsome men, both for 
 his face and his gallant bearing ; not so much 
 that of a sailor, you would have said, as like one 
 of those gentle and graceful soldiers that, to this 
 day, are the most pleasant of Englishmen to 
 see. But though he was in these ways noble, 
 the dunce scholar of Northiam was to the end 
 no genius. Upon all points that a man must 
 understand to be a gentleman, to be upright, 
 gallant, affectionate and dead to self, Captain 
 Jenkin was more knowing than one among a 
 thousand ; outside of that, his mind 'was very 
 largely blank. He had indeed a simplicity that 
 came near to vacancy; and in the first forty 
 years of his married life, this want grew more 
 accentuated. In both families imprudent mar- 
 riages had been the rule ; but neither Jenkin 
 nor Campbell had ever entered into a more un- 
 equal union. It was the captain's good looks,
 
 Father and Mother. 29 
 
 we may suppose, that gained for him this eleva- 
 tion ; and in some ways and for many years of 
 his life, he had to pay the penalty. His wife, 
 impatient of his incapacity and surrounded by 
 brilliant friends, used him with a certain con- 
 tempt. She was the managing partner ; the life 
 was hers, not his; after his retirement they 
 lived much abroad, where the poor captain, who 
 could never learn any language but his own, sat 
 in the corner mumchance ; and even his son, 
 carried away by his bright mother, did not rec- 
 ognise for long the treasures of simple chivalry 
 that lay buried in the heart of his father. Yet 
 it would be an error to regard this marriage as 
 unfortunate. It not only lasted long enough to 
 justify itself in a beautiful and touching epi- 
 logue, but it gave to the world the scientific 
 work and what (while time was) were of far 
 greater value, the delightful qualities of Fleem- 
 ing Jenkin. The Kentish-Welsh family, facile, 
 extravagant, generous to a fault and far from 
 brilliant, had given the father, an extreme ex- 
 ample of its humble virtues. On the other side, 
 the wild, cruel, proud, and somewhat blackguard 
 stock of the Scotch Campbell-Jacksons, had put
 
 30 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 forth, in the person of the mother, all its force 
 and courage. 
 
 The marriage fell in evil days. In 1823, the 
 bubble of the Golden Aunt's inheritance had 
 burst. She died holding the hand of the nephew 
 she had so wantonly deceived ; at the last she 
 drew him down and seemed to bless him, surely 
 with some remorseful feeling ; for when the will 
 was opened, there was not found so much as 
 the mention of his name. He was deeply in 
 debt ; in debt even to the estate of his deceiver, 
 so that he had to sell a piece of land to clear 
 himself. ' My dear boy,' he said to Charles, 
 ' there will be nothing left for you. I am a 
 ruined man.' And here follows for me the 
 strangest part of this story. From the death of 
 the treacherous aunt, Charles Jenkin, senior, 
 had still some nine years to live ; it was perhaps 
 too late for him to turn to saving, and perhaps 
 his affairs were past restoration. But his famil)- 
 at least had all this while to prepare ; they were 
 still young men, and knew what they had to 
 look for at their father's death ; and yet when 
 that happened in September, 1831, the heir was 
 still apathetically waiting. Poor John, the days
 
 Fleemings Uncle John. 31 
 
 of his whips and spurs, and Yeomanry dinners, 
 were quite over ; and with that incredible soft- 
 ness of the Jenkin nature, he settled down for 
 the rest of a long life, into something not far 
 removed above a peasant. The mill farm at 
 Stowting had been saved out of the wreck ; and 
 here he built himself a house on the Mexican 
 model, and made the two ends meet with rustic 
 thrift, gathering dung with his own hands upon 
 the road and not at all abashed at his employ- 
 ment. In dress, voice, and manner, he fell into 
 mere country plainness ; lived without the least 
 care for appearances, the least regret for the 
 past or discontentment with the present ; and 
 when he came to die, died with Stoic cheerful- 
 ness, announcing that he had had a comfortable 
 time and was yet well pleased to go. One would 
 think there was little active virtue to be inherit- 
 ed from such a race ; and yet in this same vol- 
 untary peasant, the special gift of Fleeming 
 Jenkin was already half developed. The old 
 man to the end was perpetually inventing ; his 
 strange, ill-spelled, unpunctuated correspond- 
 ence is full (when he does not drop into cook- 
 ery receipts) of pumps, road engines, steam-
 
 32 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 diggers, steam-ploughs, and steam-threshing 
 machines; and I have it on Fleeming's word 
 that what he did was full of ingenuity only, as 
 if by some cross destiny, useless. These disap- 
 pointments he not only took with imperturbable 
 good humour, but rejoiced with a particular reU 
 ish over his nephew's success in the same field. 
 ' I glory in the professor/ he wrote to his broth- 
 er ; and to Fleeming himself, with a touch of 
 simple drollery, ' I was much pleased with your 
 lecture, but why did you hit me so hard with 
 Conisure's ' (connoisseur's, quasi amateur's) ' en- 
 gineering? Oh, what presumption! either of 
 you or wjj/self ! ' A quaint, pathetic figure, this 
 of uncle John, with his dung cart and his inven- 
 tions ; and the romantic fancy of his Mexican 
 house ; and his craze about the Lost Tribes 
 which seemed to the worthy man the key of all 
 perplexities ; and his quiet conscience, looking 
 back on a life not altogether vain, for he was a 
 good son to his father while his father lived, and 
 when evil days approached, he had proved him- 
 self a cheerful Stoic. 
 
 It followed from John's inertia, that the duty 
 of winding up the estate fell into the hands of
 
 The Purchase of Slow ling. 33 
 
 Charles. He managed it with no more skill 
 than might be expected of a sailor ashore, 
 saved a bare livelihood for John and nothing 
 for the rest. Eight months later, he married 
 Miss Jackson ; and with her money, bought in 
 some two-thirds of Stowting. In the beginning 
 of the little family history which I have been 
 following to so great an extent, the Captain 
 mentions, with a delightful pride : ' A Court 
 Baron and Court Leet are regularly held by 
 the Lady of the Manor, Mrs. Henrietta Ca- 
 milla Jenkin '; and indeed the pleasure of so 
 describing his wife, was the most solid benefit 
 of the investment ; for the purchase was heavily 
 encumbered and paid them nothing till some 
 years before their death. In the meanwhile, 
 the Jackson family also, what with wild sons, 
 an indulgent mother and the impending eman- 
 cipation of the slaves, was moving nearer and 
 nearer to beggary ; and thus of two doomed 
 and declining houses, the subject of this me- 
 moir was born, heir to an estate and to no 
 money, yet with inherited qualities that were 
 to make him known and loved.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 18331851. 
 
 Birth and Childhood Edinburgh Frankfort-on-the-Main Paris 
 The Revolution of 1848 The Insurrection Flight to Italy- 
 Sympathy with Italy The Insurrection in Genoa A Student in 
 Genoa The Lad and bis Mother. 
 
 TJENRY CHARLES FLEEMING JEN- 
 * * KIN (Fleeming, pronounced Flemming, 
 to his friends and family) was born in a Gov- 
 ernment building on the coast of Kent, near 
 Dungeness, where his father was serving at the 
 time in the Coastguard, on March 25, 1833, and 
 named after Admiral Fleeming, one of his fa- 
 ther's protectors in the navy. 
 
 His childhood was vagrant like his life. 
 Once he was left in the care of his grand- 
 mother Jackson, while Mrs. Jenkin sailed in 
 her husband's ship and stayed a year at the 
 Havannah. The tragic woman was besides 
 from time to time a member of the family 
 she was in distress of mind and reduced in 
 fortune by the misconduct of her sons ; her 
 
 (34)
 
 His Childhood. 35 
 
 destitution and solitude made it a recurring 
 duty to receive her, her violence continually 
 enforced fresh separations. In her passion of 
 a disappointed mother, she was a fit object of 
 pity ; but her grandson, who heard her load his 
 own mother with cruel insults and reproaches, 
 conceived for her an indignant and impatient 
 hatred, for which he blamed himself in later life. 
 It is strange from this point of view to see his 
 childish letters to Mrs. Jackson ; and to think 
 that a man, distinguished above all by stubborn 
 truthfulness, should have been brought up to 
 such dissimulation. But this is of course un- 
 avoidable in life; it did no harm to Jenkin ; 
 and whether he got harm or benefit from a so 
 early acquaintance with violent and hateful 
 scenes, is more than I can guess. The expe- 
 rience, at least, was formative; and in judging 
 his character it should not be forgotten. But 
 Mrs. Jackson was not the only stranger in their 
 gates ; the Captain's sister, Aunt Anna Jenkin, 
 lived with them until her death ; she had all the 
 Jenkin beauty of countenance, though she was 
 unhappily deformed in body and of frail health ; 
 and she even excelled her gentle and ineffectual
 
 36 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 family in all amiable qualities. So that each of 
 the two races from which Fleeming sprang, had 
 an outpost by his very cradle ; the one he in- 
 stinctively loved, the other hated ; and the life- 
 long war in his members had begun thus early 
 by a victory for what was best. 
 
 We can trace the family from one country 
 place to another in the south of Scotland ; where 
 the child learned his taste for sport by riding 
 home the pony from the moors. Before he was 
 nine he could write such a passage as this about 
 a Hallowe'en observance : ' I pulled a middling- 
 sized cabbage-runt with a pretty sum of gold 
 about it. No witches would run after me when 
 I was sowing my hempseed this year ; my nuts 
 blazed away together very comfortably to the 
 end of their lives, and when mamma put hers in 
 which were meant for herself and papa they 
 blazed away in the like manner.' Before he was 
 ten he could write, with a really irritating pre- 
 cocity, that he had been ' making some pictures 
 from a book called " Les Frangais peints par 
 euxmemes." ... It is full of pictures of all 
 classes, with a description of each in French. 
 The pictures are a little caricatured, but not
 
 In Edinburgh and Frankfort. 37 
 
 much.' Doubtless this was only an echo from 
 his mother, but it shows the atmosphere in 
 which he breathed. It must have been a good 
 change for this art critic to be the playmate of 
 Mary Macdonald, their gardener's daughter at 
 Barjarg, and to sup with her family on potatoes 
 and milk ; and Fleeming himself attached some 
 value to this early and friendly experience of 
 another class. 
 
 His education, in the formal sense, began at 
 Jedburgh. Thence he went to the Edinburgh 
 Academy, where he was the classmate of Tait 
 and Clerk Maxwell, bore away many prizes, and 
 was once unjustly flogged by Rector Williams. 
 He used to insist that all his bad schoolfellows 
 had died early, a belief amusingly characteristic 
 of the man's consistent optimism. In 1846 the 
 mother and son proceeded to Frankfort-on-the- 
 Main, where they were soon joined by the father, 
 now reduced to inaction and to play something 
 like third fiddle in his narrow household. The 
 emancipation of the slaves had deprived them 
 of their last resource beyond the half-pay of a 
 captain ; and life abroad was not only desirable 
 for the sake of Fleeming's education, it was al-
 
 38 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 most enforced by reasons of economy. But it 
 was, no doubt, somewhat hard upon the captain. 
 Certainly that perennial boy found a companion 
 in his son ; they were both active and eager, 
 both willing to be amused, both young, if not in 
 years, then in character. They went out together 
 on excursions and sketched old castles, sitting 
 side by side ; they had an angry rivalry in walk- 
 ing, doubtless equally sincere upon both sides; 
 and indeed we may say that Fleeming was ex- 
 ceptionally favoured, and that no boy had ever 
 a companion more innocent, engaging, gay, and 
 airy. But although in this case it would be easy 
 to exaggerate its import, yet, in the Jenkin fam- 
 ily also, the tragedy of the generations was pro- 
 ceeding, and the child was growing out of his 
 father's knowledge. His artistic aptitude was 
 of a different order. Already he had his quick 
 sight of many sides of life ; he already over- 
 flowed with distinctions and generalisations, con- 
 trasting the dramatic art and national character 
 of England, Germany, Italy, and France. If he 
 were dull, he would write stories and poems. ' I 
 have written,' he says at thirteen, ' a very long 
 story in heroic measure, 300 lines, and another
 
 At Paris. 39 
 
 Scotch story and innumerable bits of poetry '; 
 and at the same age he had not only a keen 
 feeling for scenery, but could do something with 
 his pen to call it up. I feel I do always less 
 than justice to the delightful memory of Captain 
 Jenkin ; but with a lad of this character, cutting 
 the teeth of his intelligence, he was sure to fall 
 into the background. 
 
 The family removed in 1847 to Paris, where 
 Fleeming was put to school under one Deluc. 
 There he learned French, and (if the captain is 
 right) first began to show a taste for mathemat- 
 ics. But a far more important teacher than 
 Deluc was at hand; the year 1848, so moment- 
 ous for Europe, was momentous also for Fleem- 
 ing's character. The family politics were Liberal ; 
 Mrs. Jenkin, generous before all things, was sure 
 to be upon the side of exiles ; and in the house 
 of a Paris friend of hers, Mrs. Turner already 
 known to fame as Shelley's Cornelia de Boin- 
 ^ille Fleeming saw and heard such men as 
 Manin, Gioberti, and the Ruffinis. He was thus 
 prepared to sympathise with revolution ; and 
 when the hour came, and he found himself in 
 the midst of stirring and influential events, the
 
 40 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 lad's whole character was moved. He cone. 
 sponded at that time with a young Edinburgh 
 friend, one Frank Scott; and I am here going 
 to draw somewhat largely on this boyish coire- 
 spondence. It gives us at once a picture of the 
 Revolution and a portrait of Jenkin at fifteen; 
 not so different (his friends will think) from the 
 Jenkin of the end boyish, simple, opinionated, 
 delighting in action, delighting before all things 
 in any generous sentiment. 
 
 ' February 23, 1848. 
 
 ' When at 7 o'clock to-day I went out, I met 
 a large band going round the streets, calling on 
 the inhabitants to illuminate their houses, and 
 bearing torches. This was all very good fun, 
 and everybody was delighted ; but as they stop- 
 ped lather long and were rather turbulent in the 
 Place de la Madeleine, near where we live ' [in 
 the Rue Caumartin] ' a squadron of dragoons 
 came up, formed, and charged at a hand-gallop. 
 This was a very pretty sight; the crowd was 
 not too thick, so they easily got away ; and the 
 dragoons only gave blows with the back of the 
 sword, which hurt but did not wound. I was 
 as close to them as I am now to the other side
 
 The Revolution of 1848. 41 
 
 of the table ; it was rather impressive, however. 
 At the second charge they rode on the pave- 
 ment and knocked the torches out of the fellows' 
 hands ; rather a shame, too wouldn't be stood 
 in England. . . . 
 
 [At] ' ten minutes to ten ... I went a long 
 way along the Boulevards, passing by the 'office 
 of Foreign Affairs, where Guizot lives, and where 
 to-night there were about a thousand troops 
 protecting him from the fury of the populace. 
 After this was passed, the number of the people 
 thickened, till about half a mile further on, I met 
 a troop of vagabonds, the wildest vagabonds in 
 the world Paris vagabonds, well armed, having 
 probably broken into gunsmiths' shops and taken 
 the guns and swords. They were about a hun- 
 dred. These were followed by about a thousand 
 (I am rather diminishing than exaggerating num- 
 bers all through), indifferently armed with rusty 
 sabres, sticks, etc. An uncountable troop of 
 gentlemen, workmen, shopkeepers' wives (Paris 
 women dare anything), ladies' maids, common 
 women in fact, a crowd of all classes, though 
 by far the greater number were of the bet- 
 ter dressed class followed. Indeed, it was a
 
 42 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 splendid sight : the mob in front chanting the 
 "Marseillaise" the national war hymn, grave and 
 powerful, sweetened by the night air though 
 night in these splendid streets was turned into 
 day, every window was filled with lamps, dim 
 torches were tossing in the crowd . . . for Gui- 
 zot has late this night given in his resignation, 
 and this was an improvised illumination. 
 
 ' I and my father had turned with the crowd, 
 and were close behind the second troop of vaga- 
 bonds. Joy was on every face. I remarked to 
 papa that " I would not have missed the scene 
 for anything, I might never see such a splendid 
 one," when plong went one shot every face 
 went pale r-r-r-r-r went the whole detachment, 
 [and] the whole crowd of gentlemen and ladies 
 turned and cut. Such a scene ! ladies, gentle- 
 men, and vagabonds went sprawling in the mud, 
 not shot but tripped up; and those that went 
 down could not rise, they were trampled over. 
 ... I ran a short time straight on and did not 
 fall, then turned down a side street, ran fifty 
 yards and felt tolerably safe ; looked for papa, 
 did not see him ; so walked on quickly, giving 
 the news as I went.' [It appears, from another
 
 The Revolution of 1848. 43 
 
 letter, the boy was the first to carry word of the 
 firing to the Rue St. Honore 1 ; and that his news 
 wherever he brought it was received with hur- 
 rahs. It was an odd entrance upon life for a 
 little English lad, thus to play the part of rumour 
 in such a crisis of the history of France.] 
 
 ' But now a new fear came over me. I had 
 little doubt but my papa was safe, but my fear 
 was that he should arrive at home before me 
 and tell the story; in that case I knew my 
 mamma would go half mad with fright, so on I 
 went as quick as possible. I heard no more dis- 
 charges. When I got half way home, I found 
 my way blocked up by troops. That way or the 
 Boulevards I must pass. In the Boulevards they 
 were fighting, and I was afraid all other passages 
 might be blocked up ... and I should have to 
 sleep in a hotel in that case, and then my mamma 
 however, after a long dttour, I found a pas- 
 sage and ran home, and in our street joined 
 papa. 
 
 ' . . . I'll tell you to-morrow the other facts 
 gathered from newspapers and papa. . . . To- 
 night I have given you what I have seen with 
 my own eyes an hour ago, and began trembling
 
 44 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 with excitement and fear. If I have been too 
 long on this one subject, it is because it is yet 
 before my eyes. 
 
 ' Monday, 24. 
 
 ' It was that fire raised the people. There was 
 fighting all through the night in the Rue Notre 
 Dame de Lorette, on the Boulevards where they 
 had been shot at, and at the Porte St. Denis. 
 At ten o'clock, they resigned the house of the 
 Minister of Foreign Affairs (where the disastrous 
 volley was fired) to the people, who immediately 
 took possession of it. I went to school, but 
 [was] hardly there when the row in that quarter 
 commenced. Barricades began to be fixed. 
 Everyone was very grave now ; the externes 
 went away, but no one came to fetch me, so I 
 had to stay. No lessons could go on. A troop 
 of armed men took possession of the barricades, 
 so it was supposed I should have to sleep there. 
 The revolters came and asked for arms, but 
 Deluc (head-master) is a National Guard, and 
 he said he had only his own and he wanted 
 them ; but he said he would not fire on them. 
 Then they asked for wine, which he gave thenit
 
 The Revolution of 1848. 45 
 
 They took good care not to get drunk, knowing 
 they would not be able to fight. They were 
 very polite and behaved extremely well. 
 
 'About 12 o'clock a servant came for a boy 
 who lived near me, [and] Deluc thought it best 
 to send me with him. We heard a good deal of 
 firing near, but did not come across any of the 
 parties. As we approached the railway, the 
 barricades were no longer formed of palings, 
 planks, or stones; but they had got all the om- 
 nibuses as they passed, sent the horses and pas- 
 sengers about their business, and. turned them 
 over. A double row of overturned coaches 
 made a capital barricade, with a few paving 
 stones. 
 
 ' When I got home I found to my astonish- 
 ment that in our fighting quarter it was much 
 quieter. Mamma had just been out seeing the 
 troops in the Place de la Concorde, when sud- 
 denly the Municipal Guard, now fairly exasper- 
 ated, prevented the National Guard from pro- 
 ceeding, and fired at them ; the National Guard 
 had come with their muskets not loaded, but at 
 length returned the fire. Mamma saw the Na- 
 tional Guard fire. The Municipal Guard were
 
 46 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 round the corner. She was delighted for she 
 saw no person killed, though many of the Mu- 
 nicipals were 
 
 ' I immediately went out with my papa (mam- 
 ma had just come back with him) and went to 
 the Place de la Concorde. There was an enor- 
 mous quantity of troops in the Place. Suddenly 
 the gates of the gardens of the Tuileries opened : 
 we rushed forward, out gallopped an enormous 
 number of cuirassiers, in the middle of which 
 were a couple of low carriages, said first to con- 
 tain the Count de Paris and the Duchess of Or- 
 leans, but afterwards they said it was the King 
 and Queen ; and then I heard he had abdicated. 
 I returned and gave the news. 
 
 'Went out again up the Boulevards. The 
 house of the Minister of Foreign Affairs was 
 filled with people and " Hotel dn Peuple" written 
 on it ; the Boulevards were barricaded with fine 
 old trees that were cut down and stretched all 
 across the road. We went through a great 
 many little streets, all strongly barricaded, and 
 sentinels of the people at the principal of them. 
 The streets were very unquiet, filled with armed 
 men and women, for the troops had followed
 
 The Revolution of 1848. 47 
 
 the ex- King to Neuilly and left Paris in the 
 power of the people. We met the captain of 
 the Third Legion of the National Guard (who 
 had principally protected the people), badly 
 wounded by a Municipal Guard, stretched on a 
 litter. He was in possession of his senses. He 
 was surrounded by a troop of men crying " Our 
 brave captain we have him yet he's not 
 dead! Vive la Reforme!" This cry was re- 
 sponded to by all, and every one saluted him as 
 he passed. I do not know if he was mortally 
 wounded. That Third Legion has behaved 
 splendidly. 
 
 ' I then returned, and shortly afterwards went 
 out again to the garden of the Tuileries. They 
 were given up to the people and the palace was 
 being sacked. The people were firing blank car- 
 tridges to testify their joy, and they had a can- 
 non on the top of the palace. It was a sight to 
 see a palace sacked and armed vagabonds firing 
 out of the windows, and throwing shirts, papers, 
 and dresses of all kinds out of the windows. 
 They are not rogues, these French ; they are 
 not stealing, burning, or doing much harm. In 
 the Tuileries they have dressed up some of the
 
 48 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 statues, broken some, and stolen nothing but 
 queer dresses. I say, Frank, you must not hate 
 the French ; hate the Germans if you like. The 
 French laugh at us a little, and call out Goddam 
 in the streets ; but to-day, in civil war, when 
 they might have put a bullet through our heads, 
 I never was insulted once. 
 
 'At present we have a provisional Govern- 
 ment, consisting of Odion \_sic\ Barrot, Lamar- 
 tine, Marast, and some others ; among them a 
 common workman, but very intelligent. This is 
 a triumph of liberty rather ! 
 
 'Now then, Frank, what do you think of it? 
 I in a revolution and out all day. Just think, 
 what fun ! So it was at first, till I was fired at 
 yesterday ; but to-day I was not frightened, but 
 it turned me sick at heart, I don't know why. 
 There has been no great bloodshed, [though] I 
 certainly have seen men's blood several times. 
 But there's something shocking to see a whole 
 armed populace, though not furious, for not one 
 single shop has been broken open, except the 
 gunsmiths' shops, and most of the arms will 
 probably be taken back again. For the French 
 have no cupidity in their nature ; they don't like
 
 The Revolution of 1848. 49 
 
 to steal it is not in their nature. I shall send 
 this letter in a day or two, when I am sure the 
 post will go again. I know I have been a long 
 time writing, but I hope you will find the matter 
 of this letter interesting, as coming from a per- 
 son resident on the spot ; though probably you 
 don't take much interest in the French, but I 
 can think, write, and speak on no other subject. 
 
 ' Feb. 25. 
 
 ' There is no more fighting, the people have 
 conquered ; but the barricades are still kept up, 
 and the people are in arms, more than ever fear- 
 ing some new act of treachery on the part of the 
 ex-King. The fight where I was was the prin- 
 cipal cause of the Revolution. I was in little 
 danger from the shot, for there was an immense 
 crowd in front of me, though quite within gun- 
 shot. [By another letter, a hundred yards 
 from the troops.] I wished I had stopped 
 there. 
 
 ' The Paris streets are filled with the most ex- 
 traordinary crowds of men, women and children, 
 ladies and gentlemen. Every person joyful. 
 The bands ot armed men are perfectly polite.
 
 50 Memoir of Flecming Jenkin* 
 
 Mamma and aunt to-day walked through armed 
 crowds alone, that were firing blank cartridges in 
 all directions. Every person made way with 
 the greatest politeness, and one common man 
 with a blouse, coming by accident against her 
 immediately stopped to beg her pardon in the 
 politest manner. There are few drunken men. 
 The Tuileries is still being run over by the peo- 
 ple ; they only broke two things, a bust of Louis 
 Philippe and one of Marshal Bugeaud, who fired 
 on the people 
 
 ' I have been out all day again to-day, and 
 precious tired I am. The Republican party 
 seem the strongest, and are going about with 
 red ribbons in their button-holes 
 
 'The title of "Mister" is abandoned; they 
 say nothing but " Citizen," and the people are 
 shaking hands amazingly. They have got to 
 the top of the public monuments, and, mingling 
 with bronze or stone statues, five or six make a 
 sort of tableau vivant, the top man holding up 
 the red flag of the Republic ; and right well 
 they do it, and very picturesque they look. I 
 think I shall put this letter in the post to-mor- 
 row as we got a letter to-night.
 
 The Revolution of 1848. 51 
 
 (On Envelope.) 
 
 1 M. Lamartine has now by his eloquence con- 
 quered the whole armed crowd of citizens 
 threatening to kill him if he did not immedi- 
 ately proclaim the Republic and red flag. He 
 said he could not yield to the citizens of Paris 
 alone, that the whole country must be consulted," 
 that he chose the tricolour, for it had followed 
 and accompanied the triumphs of France all 
 over the world, and that the red flag had only 
 been dipped in the blood of the citizens. For 
 sixty hours he has been quieting the people: 
 he is at the head of everything. Don't be prej- 
 udiced, Frank, by what you see in the papers. 
 The French have acted nobly, splendidly ; there 
 has been no brutality, plundering, or stealing. 
 ... I did not like the French before ; but in 
 this respect they are the finest people in the 
 world. I am so glad to have been here.' 
 
 And there one could wish to stop with this 
 apotheosis of liberty and order read with the 
 generous enthusiasm of a boy ; but as the reader 
 knows, it was but the first act of the piece. The 
 letters, vivid as they are, written as they were
 
 52 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 by a hand trembling with fear and excitement, 
 yet do injustice, in their boyishness of tone, to 
 the profound effect produced. At the sound of 
 these songs and shot of cannon, the boy's mind 
 awoke. He dated his own appreciation of the 
 art of acting from the day when he saw and 
 heard Rachel recite the ' Marseillaise' at the 
 Frangais, the tricolour in her arms. What is 
 still more strange, he had been up to then in- 
 vincibly indifferent to music, insomuch that he 
 could not distinguish 'God save the Queen' 
 from ' Bonnie Dundee '; and now, to the chant- 
 ing of the mob, he amazed his family by learn- 
 ing and singing 'Mourir pour la Patrie' But 
 the letters, though they prepare the mind for 
 no such revolution in the boy's tastes and feel- 
 ings, are yet full of entertaining traits. Let the 
 reader note Fleeming's eagerness to influence 
 his friend Frank, an incipient Tory (no less) as 
 further history displayed ; his unconscious in- 
 difference to his father and devotion to his 
 mother, betrayed in so many significant ex- 
 pressions and omissions; the sense of dignity 
 of this diminutive ' person resident on the spot,' 
 who was so happy as to escape insult ; and the
 
 A Born Optimist. 53 
 
 strange picture of the household father, 
 mother, son, and even poor Aunt Anna all 
 day in the streets in the thick of this rough 
 business, and the boy packed off alone to school 
 in a distant quarter on the very morrow of the 
 massacre. 
 
 They had all the gift of enjoying life's texture 
 as it comes ; they were all born optimists. The 
 name of liberty was honoured in that family, its 
 spirit also, but within stringent limits ; and some 
 of the foreign friends of Mrs. Jenkin were, as I 
 have said, men distinguished on the Liberal 
 side. Like Wordsworth, they beheld 
 
 France standing on the top of golden hours 
 And human nature seeming born again. 
 
 At once, by temper and belief, they were formed 
 to find their element in such a decent and whig- 
 gish convulsion, spectacular in its course, mod. 
 erate in its purpose. For them, 
 
 Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, 
 But to be young was very heaven. 
 
 And I cannot but smile when I think that
 
 54 Memoir of Flceming Jenkin. 
 
 (again like Wordsworth) they should have so 
 specially disliked the consequence. 
 
 It came upon them by surprise. Liberal 
 friends of the precise right shade of colour had 
 assured them, in Mrs. Turner's drawing-room, 
 that all was for the best ; and they rose on Jan- 
 uary 23 without fear. About the middle of the 
 day they heard the sound of musketry, and the 
 next morning they were wakened by the can- 
 nonade. The French, who had behaved so 
 ' splendidly/ pausing, at the voice of Lamar- 
 tine, just where judicious Liberals could have 
 desired the French, who had * no cupidity in 
 their nature,' were now about to play a varia- 
 tion on the theme rebellion. The Jenkins took 
 refuge in the house of Mrs. Turner, the house 
 of the false prophets, ' Anna going with Mrs. 
 Turner, that she might be prevented speaking 
 English, Fleeming, Miss H. and I (it is .he 
 mother who writes) walking together. As we 
 reached the Rue de Clichy, the report of the 
 cannon sounded close to our ears and made our 
 hearts sick, I assure you. The fighting was at 
 the barrier Rochechouart, a few streets off. 
 All Saturday and Sunday we were a prey to
 
 The Paris Insurrection. 55 
 
 great alarm, there came so many reports that 
 the insurgents were getting the upper hand. 
 One could tell the state of affairs from the ex- 
 treme quiet or the sudden hum in the street. 
 When the news was bad, all the houses closed 
 and the people disappeared ; when better, the 
 doors half opened and you heard the sound of 
 men again. From the upper windows we could 
 see each discharge from the Bastille I mean 
 the smoke rising and also the flames and 
 smoke from the Boulevard la Chapelle. We 
 were four ladies, and only Fleeming by way of 
 a man, and difficulty enough we had to keep 
 him from joining the National Guards his 
 pride and spirit were both fired. You cannot 
 picture to yourself the multitudes of soldiers, 
 guards, and armed men of all sorts we watched 
 not close to the window, however, for such 
 havoc had been made among them by the firing 
 from the windows, that as the battalions marched 
 by, they cried, " Fermez vos fenetres ! " and it 
 was very painful to watch their looks of anxiety 
 and suspicion as they marched by.' 
 
 ' The Revolution,' writes Fleeming to Frank 
 Scott, 'was quite delightful: getting popped
 
 56 Memoir of Fleeming 
 
 at and run at by horses, and giving sous fof 
 the wounded into little boxes guarded by the 
 raggedest, picturesquest, delightfullest, senti- 
 nels ; but the insurrection ! ugh, I shudder to 
 think at \sic~\ it.' He found it ' not a bit of fun 
 sitting boxed up in the house four days almost 
 .... I was the only gentleman to four ladies, 
 and didn't they keep me in order! I did not 
 dare to show my face at a window, for fear of 
 catching a stray ball or being forced to enter 
 the National Guard ; [for] they would have it 
 I was a man full-grown, French, and every way 
 fit to fight. And my mamma was as bad as any 
 of them ; she that told me I was a coward last 
 time if I stayed in the house a quarter of an 
 hour! But I drew, examined the pistols, of 
 which I found lots with caps, powder, and 
 ball, while sometimes murderous intentions of 
 killing a dozen insurgents and dying violently 
 
 overpowered by numbers ' We may drop 
 
 this sentence here : under the conduct of its 
 boyish writer, it was to reach no legitimate 
 end. 
 
 Four days of such a discipline had cured the 
 family of Paris ; the same year Fleeming was to
 
 Flight to Italy. 57 
 
 write, in answer apparently to a question of 
 Frank Scott's, ' I could find no national game 
 in France but revolutions '; and the witticism 
 was justified in their experience. On the first 
 possible day, they applied for passports, and 
 were advised to take the road to Geneva. It 
 appears it was scarce safe to leave Paris for 
 England. Charles Reade, with keen dramatic 
 gusto, had just smuggled himself out of that 
 city in the bottom of a cab. English gold had 
 been found on the insurgents, the name of Eng- 
 land was in evil odour; and it was thus for 
 strategic reasons, so to speak that Fleeming 
 found himself on the way to that Italy where 
 he was to complete his education, and for which 
 he cherished to the end a special kindness. 
 
 It was in Genoa they settled ; partly for the 
 sake of the captain, who might there find naval 
 comrades; partly because of the Ruffinis, who 
 had been friends of Mrs. Jenkin in their time 
 of exile and were now considerable men at 
 home ; partly, in fine, with hopes that Fleem- 
 ing might attend the University ; in prepara- 
 tion for which he was put at once to school. 
 It was the year of Novara; Mazzini was in
 
 58 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 Rome ; the dry bones of Italy were moving ; 
 and for people of alert and liberal sympathies 
 the time was inspiriting. What with exiles 
 turned Ministers of State, universities thrown 
 open to Protestants, Fleeming himself the first 
 Protestant student in Genoa, and thus, as his 
 mother writes, ' a living instance of the prog- 
 ress of liberal ideas' it was little wonder if the 
 enthusiastic young woman and the clever boy 
 were heart and soul upon the side of Italy. It 
 should not be forgotten that they were both on 
 their first visit to that country ; the mother still 
 ' child enough ' to be delighted when she saw 
 ' real monks '; and both mother and son thrill- 
 ing with the first sight of snowy Alps, the blue 
 Mediterranean, and the crowded port and the 
 palaces of Genoa. Nor was their zeal without 
 knowledge. Rufrlni, deputy for Genoa and 
 soon to be head of the University, was at 
 their side ; and by means of him the family 
 appear to have had access to much Italian so- 
 ciety. To the end, Fleeming professed his ad- 
 miration of the Piedmontese and his unalter- 
 able confidence in the future of Italy under 
 their conduct; for Victor Emanuel, Cavour,
 
 Sympathy with Italy. 59 
 
 the first La Marmora and Garibaldi, he had 
 varying degrees of sympathy and praise : per- 
 haps highest for the King, whose good sense 
 and temper filled him with respect perhaps 
 least for Garibaldi, whom he loved but yet 
 mistrusted. 
 
 But this is to look forward : these were the 
 days not of Victor Emanuel but of Charles Al- 
 bert ; and it was on Charles Albert that mother 
 and son had now fixed their eyes as on the 
 sword-bearer of Italy. On Fleeming's sixteenth 
 birthday, they were, the mother writes, ' in 
 great anxiety for news from the army. You 
 can have no idea what it is to live in a country 
 where such a struggle is going on. The inter- 
 est is one that absorbs all others. We eat, 
 drink, and sleep to the noise of drums and 
 musketry. You would enjoy and almost admire 
 Fleeming's enthusiasm and earnestness and 
 courage, I may say for we are among the small 
 minority of English who side with the Italians. 
 The other day, at dinner at the Consul's, boy 
 as he is, and in spite of my admonitions, Fleem- 
 ing defended the Italian cause, and so well that 
 he "tripped up the heels of his adversary"
 
 60 Memoir of F teeming Jen kin. 
 
 simply from being well-informed on the subject 
 and honest. He is as true as steel, and for no 
 
 one will he bend right or left Do not 
 
 fancy him a Bobadil,' she adds, ' he is only 
 a very true, candid boy. I am so glad he 
 remains in all respects but information a great 
 child.' 
 
 If this letter is correctly dated, the cause was 
 already lost and the King had already abdicated 
 when these lines were written. No sooner did 
 the news reach Genoa, than there began ' tumult- 
 uous movements ' ; and the Jenkins' received 
 hints it would be wise to leave the city. But 
 they had friends and interests ; even the captain 
 had English officers to keep him company, for 
 Lord Hardwicke's ship, the Vengeance, lay in 
 port ; and supposing the danger to be real, I 
 cannot but suspect the whole family of a di- 
 vided purpose, prudence being possibly weaker 
 than curiosity. Stay, at least, they did, and 
 thus rounded their experience of the revo- 
 lutionary year. On Sunday, April i, Fleeming 
 and the captain went for a ramble beyond the 
 walls, leaving Aunt Anna and Mrs. Jenkin to 
 walk on the bastions with some friends. On
 
 Insurrection of Genoa. 61 
 
 the way back, this party turned aside to rest in 
 the Church of the Madonna delle Grazie. ' We 
 had remarked,' writes Mrs. Jenkin, ' the entire 
 absence of sentinels on the ramparts, and how 
 the cannons were left in solitary state ; and I 
 had just remarked " How quiet everything is! " 
 when suddenly we heard the drums begin to 
 beat and distant shouts. Accustomed as we are 
 to revolutions, we never thought of being fright- 
 ened.' For all that, they resumed their return 
 home. On the way they saw men running and 
 vociferating, but nothing to indicate a general 
 disturbance, until, near the Duke's palace, they 
 came upon and passed a shouting mob dragging 
 along with it three cannon. It had scarcely 
 passed before they heard ' a rushing sound '; 
 one of the gentlemen thrust back the party of 
 ladies under a shed, and the mob passed again. 
 A fine-looking young man was in their hands ; 
 and Mrs. Jenkin saw him with his mouth open 
 as if he sought to speak, saw him tossed from 
 one to another like a ball, and then saw him no 
 more. ' He was dead a few instants after, but 
 the crowd hid that terror from us. My knees 
 shook under me and my sight left me.' With
 
 62 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 this street tragedy, the curtain rose upon their 
 second revolution. 
 
 The attack on Spirito Santo, and the capitu- 
 lation and departure of the troops speedily fol- 
 lowed. Genoa was in the hands of the Repub- 
 licans, and now came a time when the English 
 residents were in a position to pay some return 
 for hospitality received. Nor were they back- 
 ward. Our Consul (the same who had the bene- 
 fit of correction from Fleeming) carried the In- 
 tendente on board the Vengeance, escorting him 
 through the streets, getting along with him on 
 board a shore boat, and when the insurgents 
 levelled their muskets, standing up and naming 
 himself, ' Console Inglese? A friend of the Jen- 
 kins', Captain Glynne, had a more painful, if a 
 less dramatic part. One Colonel Nosozzo had 
 been killed (I read) while trying to prevent his 
 own artillery from firing on the mob ; but in 
 that hell's cauldron of a distracted city, there 
 were no distinctions made, and the Colonel's 
 widow was hunted for her life. In her grief and 
 peril, the Glynnes received and hid her ; Cap- 
 tain Glynne sought and found her husband's 
 body among the slain, saved it for two days,
 
 Insurrection of Genoa. 63 
 
 brought the widow a lock of the dead man's 
 hair ; but at last, the mob still strictly search- 
 ing, seems to have abandoned the body, and 
 conveyed his guest on board the Vengeance. 
 The Jenkins also had their refugees, the family 
 of an employe threatened by a decree. ' You 
 should have seen me making a Union Jack to 
 nail over our door/ writes Mrs. Jenkin. ' I 
 never worked so fast in my life. Monday and 
 Tuesday,' she continues, ' were tolerably quiet, 
 our hearts beating fast in the hope of La Mar- 
 mora's approach, the streets barricaded, and 
 none but foreigners and women allowed to leave 
 the city.' On Wednesday, La Marmora came 
 indeed, but in the ugly form of a bombard- 
 ment ; and that evening the Jenkins sat with- 
 out lights about their drawing-room window, 
 4 watching the huge red flashes of the cannon ' 
 from the Brigato and La Specula forts, and 
 hearkening, not without some awful pleasure, to 
 the thunder of the cannonade. 
 
 Lord Hardwicke intervened between the reb- 
 els and La Marmora; and there followed a 
 troubled armistice, filled with the voice of panic. 
 Now the Vengeance was known to be cleared
 
 64 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 for action ; now it was rumoured that the galley 
 slaves were to be let loose upon the town, and 
 now that the troops would enter it by storm. 
 Crowds, trusting in the Union Jack over the 
 Jenkins' door, came to beg them to receive their 
 linen and other valuables ; nor could their in- 
 stances be refused ; and in the midst of all this 
 bustle and alarm, piles of goods must be ex- 
 amined and long inventories made. At last the 
 captain decided things had gone too far. He 
 himself apparently remained to watch over the 
 linen ; but at five o'clock on the Sunday morn- 
 ing, Aunt Anna, Fleeming, and his mother were 
 rowed in a pour of rain on board an English 
 merchantman, to suffer ' nine mortal hours of 
 agonising suspense.' With the end of that time, 
 peace was restored. On Tuesday morning offi- 
 cers with white flags appeared on the bastions ; 
 then, regiment by regiment, the troops marched 
 in, two hundred men sleeping on the ground 
 floor of the Jenkins' house, thirty thousand in 
 all entering the city, but without disturbance, 
 old La Marmora being a commar.der of a 
 Roman sternness. 
 
 With the return of quiet, and the reopening
 
 A Student in Genoa. 65 
 
 of the universities, we behold a new character, 
 Signor Flaminio: the professors, it appears, 
 made no attempt upon the Jenkin ; and thus 
 readily italianised the Fleeming. He came well 
 recommended ; for their friend Ruffini was then, 
 or soon after, raised to be the head of the Uni- 
 versity ; and the professors were very kind and 
 attentive, possibly to Ruffini's protegtf, perhaps 
 also to the first Protestant student. It was no 
 joke for Signor Flaminio at first; certificates 
 had to be got from Paris and from Rector Will- 
 iams; the classics must be furbished up at 
 home that he might follow Latin lectures ; ex- 
 aminations bristled in the path, the entrance 
 examination with Latin and English essay, and 
 oral trials (much softened for the foreigner) in 
 Horace, Tacitus, and Cicero, and the first Uni- 
 versity examination only three months later, in 
 Italian eloquence, no less, and other wider sub- 
 jects. On one point the first Protestant student 
 was moved to thank his stars : that there was 
 no Greek required for the degree. Little did he 
 think, as he set down his gratitude, how much, 
 in later life and among cribs and dictionaries, 
 he was to lament this circumstance ; nor how
 
 66 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 much of that later life he was to spend acquir- 
 ing, with infinite toil, a shadow of what he 
 might then have got with ease and fully. But 
 if his Genoese education was in this particular 
 imperfect, he was fortunate in the branches that 
 more immediately touched on his career. The 
 physical laboratory was the best mounted in 
 Italy. Bancalari, the professor of natural phi- 
 losophy, was famous in his day ; by what seems 
 even an odd coincidence, he went deeply into 
 electro-magnetism ; and it was principally in 
 that subject that Signer Flaminio, questioned 
 in Latin and answering in Italian, passed his 
 Master of Arts degree with first-class honours. 
 That he had secured the notice of his teachers, 
 one circumstance sufficiently proves. A philo- 
 sophical society was started under the presidency 
 of Mamiani, ' one of the examiners and one of 
 the leaders of the Moderate party '; and out of 
 five promising students brought forward by the 
 professors to attend the sittings and present es- 
 says, Signer Flaminio was one. I cannot find 
 that he ever read an essay ; and indeed I think 
 his hands were otherwise too full. He found 
 his fellow-students 'not such a bad set of
 
 Studying Music. 67 
 
 chaps,' and preferred the Piedmontese before 
 the Genoese ; but I suspect he mixed not very 
 freely with either. Not only were his days filled 
 with university work, but his spare hours were 
 fully dedicated to the arts under the eye of a 
 beloved task-mistress. He worked hard and 
 well in the art school, where he obtained a sil- 
 ver medal ' for a couple of legs the size of life 
 drawn from one of Raphael's cartoons.' His 
 holidays were spent in sketching ; his evenings, 
 when they were free, at the theatre. Here at the 
 opera he discovered besides a taste for a new 
 art, the art of music ; and it was, he wrote, ' as 
 if he had found out a heaven on earth.' ' I am 
 so anxious that whatever he professes to know, 
 he should really perfectly possess,' his mother 
 wrote, ' that I spare no pains '; neither to him 
 nor to myself, she might have added. And so 
 when he begged to be allowed to learn the 
 piano, she started him with characteristic bar- 
 barity on the scales ; and heard in consequence 
 ' heart-rending groans ' and saw ' anguished 
 claspings of hands ' as he lost his way among 
 their arid intricacies. 
 
 In this picture of the lad at the piano, there
 
 68 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 is something, for the period, girlish. He was 
 indeed his mother's boy ; and it was fortunate 
 his mother was not altogether feminine. She 
 gave her son a womanly delicacy in morals, to 
 a man's taste to his own taste in later life 
 too finely spun, and perhaps more elegant than 
 healthful. She encouraged him besides in 
 drawing-room interests. But in other points 
 her influence was manlike. Filled with the 
 spirit of thoroughness, she taught him to make 
 of the least of these accomplishments a virile 
 task ; and the teaching lasted him through life. 
 Immersed as she was in the day's movements 
 and buzzed about by leading Liberals, she 
 handed on to him her creed in politics : an en- 
 during kindness for Italy, and a loyalty, like 
 that of many clever women, to the Liberal party 
 with but small regard to men or measures. This 
 attitude of mind used often to disappoint me in 
 a man so fond of logic ; but I see now how it 
 was learned from the bright eyes of his mother 
 and to the sound of the cannonades of 1848. 
 To some of her defects, besides, she made him 
 heir. Kind as was the bond that united her to 
 her son, kind and even pretty, she was scarce a
 
 His Home and School Training. 69 
 
 woman to adorn a home ; loving as she did to 
 shine ; careless as she was of domestic, studious 
 of public graces. She probably rejoiced to see 
 the boy grow up in somewhat of the image 
 of herself, generous, excessive, enthusiastic, 
 external ; catching at ideas, brandishing them 
 when caught ; fiery for the right, but always 
 fiery; ready at fifteen to correct a consul, 
 ready at fifty to explain to any artist his own 
 art. 
 
 The defects and advantages of such a training 
 were obvious in Fleeming throughout life. His 
 thoroughness was not that of the patient scholar, 
 but of an untrained woman with fits of passion- 
 ate study ; he had learned too much from dog- 
 ma, given indeed by cherished lips ; and preco- 
 cious as he was in the use of the tools of the 
 mind, he was truly backward in knowledge of 
 life and of himself. Such as it was at least, 
 his home and school training was now com- 
 plete ; and you are to conceive the lad as being 
 formed in a household of meagre revenue, 
 among foreign surroundings, and under the 
 influence of an imperious drawing-room queen ; 
 from whom he learned a great refinement of
 
 70 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 morals, a strong sense of duty, much forward- 
 ness of bearing, all manner of studious and 
 artistic interests, and many ready-made opinions 
 which he embraced with a son's and a disciple's 
 loyalty.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 18511858. 
 
 Return to England Fleeming at Fairbairn's Experience in 
 Strike Dr. Bell and Greek Architecture The Gaskells Fleem- 
 ing at Greenwich The Austins Fleeming and the Austins 
 His Engagement Fleeming and Sir W. Thomson, 
 
 TN 1851, the year of Aunt Anna's death, the 
 * family left Genoa and came to Manchester, 
 where Fleeming was entered in Fairbairn's works 
 as an apprentice. From the palaces and Alps, 
 the Mole, the blue Mediterranean, the humming 
 lanes and the bright theatres of Genoa, he fell 
 and he was sharply conscious of the fall to the 
 dim skies and the foul ways of Manchester. 
 England he found on his return ' a horrid place,' 
 and there is no doubt the family found it a dear 
 one. The story of the Jenkin finances is not 
 easy to follow. The family, I am told, did not 
 practice frugality, only lamented that it should 
 be needful ; and Mrs. Jenkin, who was always 
 complaining of 'those dreadful bills,' was 'al- 
 ways a good deal dressed.' But at this time of
 
 '72 Memoir of Fleeming fenkin. 
 
 the return to England, things must have gone 
 further. A holiday tour of a fortnight, Fleem- 
 ing feared would be beyond what he could af- 
 ford, and he only projected it ' to have a castle 
 in the air.' And there were actual pinches. 
 Fresh from a warmer sun, he was obliged to go 
 without a greatcoat, and learned on railway 
 journeys to supply the place of one with wrap- 
 pings of old newspaper. 
 
 From half-past eight till six, he must * file and 
 chip vigorously in a moleskin suit and infernally 
 dirty.' The work was not new to him, for he 
 had already passed some time in a Genoese 
 shop ; and to Fleeming no work was without 
 interest. Whatever a man can do or know, he 
 longed to know and do also. ' I never learned 
 anything,' he wrote, 'not even standing on my 
 head, but I found a use for it.' In the spare 
 hours of his first telegraph voyage, to give an 
 instance of his greed of knowledge, he meant 
 ' to learn the whole art of navigation, every rope 
 in the ship and how to handle her on any occa- 
 sion '; and once when he was shown a young 
 lady's holiday collection of seaweeds, he must 
 cry out, ' It showed me my eyes had been idle.'
 
 His Love of Handicraft. 73 
 
 Nor was his the case of the mere literary smat- 
 terer, content if he but learn the names of things. 
 In him, to do and to do well, was even a dearer 
 ambition than to know. Anything done well, 
 any craft, despatch, or finish, delighted and in- 
 spired him. I remember him with a twopenny 
 Japanese box of three drawers, so exactly 
 fitted that, when one was driven home, the oth- 
 ers started from their places ; the whole spirit 
 of Japan, he told me, was pictured in that box ; 
 that plain piece of carpentry was as much in- 
 spired by the spirit of perfection as the happiest 
 drawing or the finest bronze ; and he who could 
 not enjoy it in the one was not fully able to en- 
 joy it in the others. Thus, too, he found in 
 Leonardo's engineering and anatomical drawings 
 a perpetual feast ; and of the former he spoke 
 even with emotion. Nothing indeed annoyed 
 Fleeming more than the attempt to separate the 
 fine arts from the arts of handicraft ; any defi- 
 nition or theory that failed to bring these two 
 together, according to him, had missed the 
 point-; and the essence of the pleasure received 
 lay in seeing things well done. Other qualities 
 must be added ; he was the last to deny that ;
 
 74 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 but this, of perfect craft, was at the bottom of 
 all. And on the other hand, a nail ill-driven, a 
 joint ill-fitted, a tracing clumsily done, anything 
 to which a man had set his hand and not set it 
 aptly, moved him to shame and anger. With 
 such a character, he would feel but little drudg- 
 ery at Fairbairn's. There would be something 
 daily to be done, slovenliness to be avoided, and 
 a higher mark of skill to be attained ; he would 
 chip and file, as he had practiced scales, impa- 
 tient of his own imperfection, but resolute to 
 learn. 
 
 And there was another spring of delight. For 
 he was now moving daily among those strange 
 creations of man's brain, to some so abhorrent, 
 to him of an interest so inexhaustible : in which 
 iron, water, and fire are made to serve as slaves, 
 now with a tread more powerful than an ele- 
 phant's, and now with a touch more precise and 
 dainty than a pianist's. The taste for machin- 
 ery was one that I could never share with him, 
 and he had a certain bitter pity for my weak- 
 ness. Once when I had proved, for the hun- 
 dredth time, the depth of this defect, he looked 
 at me askance : ' And the best of the joke,' said
 
 Fleeming at Fairbairris. 75 
 
 he, ' is that he thinks himself quite a poet.' For 
 to him the struggle of the engineer against brute 
 forces and with inert allies, was nobly poetic. 
 Habit never dulled in him the sense of the 
 greatness of the aims and obstacles of his pro- 
 fession. Habit only sharpened his inventor's 
 gusto in contrivance, in triumphant artifice, in the 
 Odyssean subtleties, by which wires are taught 
 to speak, and iron hands to weave, and the 
 slender ship to brave and to outstrip the tem- 
 pest. To the ignorant the great results alone 
 are admirable ; to the knowing, and to Fleem- 
 ing in particular, rather the infinite device and 
 sleight of hand that made them possible. 
 
 A notion was current at the time that, in such 
 a shop as Fairbairn's, a pupil would never be 
 popular unless he drank with the workmen and 
 imitated them in speech and manner. Fleem- 
 ing, who would do none of these things, they 
 accepted as a friend and companion ; and this 
 was the subject of remark in Manchester, where 
 some memory of it lingers till to-day. He 
 thought it one of the advantages of his profes- 
 sion to be brought into a close relation with the 
 working classes; and for the skilled artisan he
 
 76 Memoir of Flecming Jenkin. 
 
 had a great esteem, liking his company, his vir. 
 tues, and his taste in some of the arts. But he 
 knew the classes too well to regard them, like a 
 platform speaker, in a lump. He drew, on the 
 other hand, broad distinctions; and it was his 
 profound sense of the difference between one 
 working man and another that led him to de- 
 vote so much time, in later days, to the further- 
 ance of technical education. In 1852 he had 
 occasion to see both men and masters at their 
 worst, in the excitement of a strike ; and very 
 foolishly (after their custom) both would seem 
 to have behaved. Beginning with a fair show 
 of justice on either side, the masters stultified 
 their cause by obstinate impolicy, and the men 
 disgraced their order by acts of outrage. ' On 
 Wednesday last,' writes Fleeming, ' about three 
 thousand banded round Fairbairn's door at 6 
 o'clock : men, women, and children, factory boys 
 and girls, the lowest of the low in a very low 
 place. Orders came that no one was to leave 
 the works ; but the men inside (Knobsticks, as 
 they are called) were precious hungry and 
 thought they would venture. Two of my com- 
 panions and myself went out with the very first,
 
 Experience of a Strike. 77 
 
 and had the full benefit of every possible groan 
 and bad language/ But the police cleared a 
 lane through the crowd, the pupils were suffered 
 to escape unhurt, and only the Knobsticks fol- 
 lowed home and kicked with clogs ; so that 
 Fleeming enjoyed, as we may say, for nothing, 
 that fine thrill of expectant valour with which 
 he had sallied forth into the mob. ' I never be 
 fore felt myself so decidedly somebody, instead 
 of nobody,' he wrote. 
 
 Outside as inside the works, he was ' pretty 
 merry and well to do,' zealous in study, wel- 
 come to many friends, unwearied in loving-kind- 
 ness to his mother. For some time he spent 
 three nights a week with Dr. Bell, ' working 
 away at certain geometrical methods of getting 
 the Greek architectural proportions ': a business 
 after Fleeming's heart, for he was never so 
 pleased as when he could marry his two devo- 
 tions, art and science. This was besides, in all 
 likelihood, the beginning of that love and inti- 
 mate appreciation of things Greek, from the 
 least to the greatest, from the Agamemnon (per- 
 haps his favourite tragedy) down to the details 
 of Grecian tailoring, which he used to express
 
 78 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 in his familiar phrase : ' The Greeks were the 
 boys.' Dr. Bell the son of George Joseph, the 
 nephew of Sir Charles, and though he made less 
 use of it than some, a sharer in the distinguished 
 talents of his race had hit upon the singular 
 fact that certain geometrical intersections gave 
 the proportions of the Doric order. Fleeming, 
 under Dr. Bell's direction, applied the same 
 method to the other orders, and again found the 
 proportions accurately given. Numbers of dia- 
 grams were prepared ; but the discovery was 
 never given to the world, perhaps because of the 
 dissensions that arose between the authors. For 
 Dr. Bell believed that ' these intersections were 
 in some way connected with, or symbolical of, 
 the antagonistic forces at work '; but his pupil 
 and helper, with characteristic trenchancy, 
 brushed aside this mysticism, and interpreted 
 the discovery as ' a geometrical method of divid- 
 ing the spaces or (as might be said) of setting 
 out the work, purely empirical and in no way 
 connected with any laws of either force or 
 beauty.' ' Many a hard and pleasant fight we 
 had over it,' wrote Jenkin, in later years; 'and 
 impertinent as it may seem, the pupil is still
 
 The Gaskells. 79 
 
 unconvinced by the arguments of the master.' 
 I do not know about the antagonistic forces in 
 the Doric order ; in Fleeming they were plain 
 enough ; and the Bobadil of these affairs with 
 Dr. Bell was still, like the corrector of Italian 
 consuls, ' a great child in everything but infor- 
 mation.' At the house of Colonel Cleather, he 
 might be seen with a family of children ; and 
 with these, there was no word of the Greek or- 
 ders ; with these Fleeming was only an uproar- 
 ious boy and an entertaining draughtsman ; so 
 that his coming was the signal for the young 
 people to troop into the playroom, where some- 
 times the roof rang with romping, and some- 
 times they gathered quietly about him as he 
 amused them with his pencil. 
 
 In another Manchester family, whose name 
 will be familiar to my readers that of the Gas- 
 kells, Fleeming was a frequent visitor. To Mrs. 
 Gaskell, he would often bring his new ideas, a 
 process that many of his later friends will under- 
 stand and, in their own cases, remember. With 
 the girls, he had ' constant fierce wrangles,' forc- 
 ing them to reason out their thoughts and to 
 explain their prepossessions; and I hear from
 
 8o Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 Miss Gaskell that they used to wonder how he 
 could throw all the ardour of his character into 
 the smallest matters, and to admire his unself- 
 ish devotion to his parents. Of one of these 
 wrangles, I have found a record most character- 
 istic of the man. Fleeming had been laying 
 down his doctrine that the end justifies the 
 means, and that it is quite right ' to boast of 
 your six men-servants to a burglar or to steal a 
 knife to prevent a murder'; and the Miss Gas- 
 kells, with girlish loyalty to what is current, had 
 rejected the heresy with indignation. From 
 such passages-at-arms, many retire mortified and 
 ruffled ; but Fleeming had no sooner left the 
 house than he fell into delighted admiration of 
 the spirit of his adversaries. From that it was 
 but a step to ask himself ' what truth was stick- 
 ing in their heads'; for even the falsest form of 
 words (in Fleeming's life-long opinion) reposed 
 upon some truth, just as he could ' not even al- 
 low that people admire ugly things, they admire 
 what is pretty in the ugly thing.' And before 
 he sat down to write his letter, he thought Ire 
 had hit upon the explanation. ' I fancy the true 
 idea,' he wrote, ' is that you must never do your-
 
 Fleeming at Greenwich. 81 
 
 self or anyone else a moral injury make any 
 man a thief or a liar for any end '; quite a 
 different thing, as he would have loved to point 
 out, from never stealing or lying. But this per- 
 fervid disputant was not always out of key with 
 his audience. One whom he met in the same 
 house announced that she would never again be 
 happy. ' What does that signify ? ' cried Fleem- 
 ing. * We are not here to be happy, but to be 
 good.' And the words (as his hearer writes to 
 me) became to her a sort of motto during life. 
 
 From Fairbairn's and Manchester, Fleeming 
 passed to a railway survey in Switzerland, and 
 *hence again to Mr. Penn's at Greenwich, where 
 he was engaged as draughtsman. There in 1856, 
 we find him in * a terribly busy state, finishing 
 up engines for innumerable gun-boats and steam 
 frigates for the ensuing campaign.' From half- 
 past eight in the morning till nine or ten at 
 night, he worked in a crowded office among un- 
 congenial comrades, ' saluted by chaff, generally 
 low personal and not witty/ pelted with oranges 
 and apples, regaled with dirty stories, and seek- 
 ing to suit himself with his surroundings or (as 
 he writes it) trying to be as little like himself as
 
 82 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 possible. His lodgings were hard by, ' across a 
 dirty green and through some half-built streets 
 of two-storied houses '; he had Carlyle and the 
 poets, engineering and mathematics, to study 
 by himself in such spare time as remained to 
 him ; and there were several ladies, young and 
 not so young, with whom he liked to cor- 
 respond. But not all of these could compen- 
 sate for the absence of that mother, who had 
 made herself so large a figure in his life, for 
 sorry surroundings, unsuitable society, and work 
 that leaned to the mechanical. ' Sunday,' says 
 he, ' I generally visit some friends in town and 
 seem to swim in clearer water, but the dirty 
 green seems all the dirtier when I get back. 
 Luckily I am fond of my profession, or I could 
 not stand this life.' It is a question in my mind, 
 if he could have long continued to stand it with- 
 out loss. ' We are not here to be happy, but to 
 be good,' quoth the young philosopher ; but no 
 man had a keener appetite for happiness than 
 Fleeming Jenkin. There is a time of life be- 
 sides when, apart from circumstances, few men 
 are agreeable to their neighbours and still fewer 
 to themselves ; and it was at this stage that
 
 Fleeming s Correspondence. 83 
 
 Fleeming had arrived, later than common and 
 even worse provided. The letter from which I 
 have quoted is the last of his correspondence 
 with Frank Scott, and his last confidential let 
 ter to one of his own sex. ' If you consider k 
 rightly,' he wrote long after, ' you will find the 
 want of correspondence no such strange want 
 in men's friendships. There is, believe me, 
 something noble in the metal which does not 
 rust though not burnished by daily use.' It is 
 well said ; but the last letter to Frank Scott is 
 scarcely of a noble metal. It is plain the writer 
 has outgrown his old self, yet not made ac- 
 quaintance with the new. This letter from a 
 busy youth of three and twenty, breathes of 
 seventeen : the sickening alternations of con- 
 ceit and shame, the expense of hope in vacuo, 
 the lack of friends, the longing after love ; the 
 whole world of egoism under which youth stands 
 groaning, a voluntary Atlas. 
 
 With Fleeming this disease was never seem- 
 ingly severe. The very day before this (to me) 
 distasteful letter, he had written to Miss Bell of 
 Manchester in a sweeter strain ; I do not quote 
 the one, I quote the other ; fair things are the
 
 84 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 best. ' I keep my own little lodgings/ he writes, 
 ' but come up every night to see mamma ' (who 
 was then on a visit to London) ' if not kept too 
 late at the works ; and have singing lessons once 
 more, and sing "Donne 1'amore t scaltro pargo- 
 letto" ; and think and talk about you ; and listen 
 to mamma's projects de Stowting. Everything 
 turns to gold at her touch, she's a fairy and no 
 mistake. We go on talking till I have a picture 
 in my head, and can hardly believe at the end 
 that the original is Stowting. Even you don't 
 know half how good mamma is ; in other things 
 too, which I must not mention. She teaches 
 me how it is not necessary to be very rich to do 
 much good. I begin to understand that mam- 
 ma would find useful occupation and create 
 beauty at the bottom of a volcano. She has 
 little weaknesses, but is a real generous-hearted 
 woman, which I suppose is the finest thing in 
 the world.' Though neither mother nor son 
 could be called beautiful, they make a pretty 
 picture ; the ugly, generous, ardent woman 
 weaving rainbow illusions ; the ugly, clear- 
 sighted, loving son sitting at her side in one of 
 his rare hours of pleasure, half-beguiled, half-
 
 Two Words of Hope. 85 
 
 amused, wholly admiring, as he listens. But as 
 he goes home, and the fancy pictures fade, and 
 Stowting is once more burthened with debt, and 
 the noisy companions and the long hours of 
 drudgery once more approach, no wonder if the 
 dirty green seems all the dirtier or if Atlas must 
 resume his load. 
 
 But in healthy natures, this time of moral 
 teething passes quickly of itself, and is easily 
 alleviated by fresh interests ; and already, in the 
 letter to Frank Scott, there are two words of 
 hope : his friends in London, his love for his 
 profession. The last might have saved him ; for 
 he was ere long to pass into a new sphere, where 
 all his faculties were to be tried and exercised, 
 and his life to be filled with interest and effort. 
 But it was not left to engineering : another and 
 more influential aim was to be set before him. 
 He must, in any case, have fallen in love; in 
 any case, his love would have ruled his life ; and 
 the question of choice was, for the descendant 
 of two such families, a thing of paramount im- 
 portance. Innocent of the world, fiery, gener. 
 ous, devoted as he was, the son of the wild 
 Jacksons and the facile Jenkins might have been
 
 86 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 led far astray. By one of those partialities that 
 fill men at once with gratitude and wonder, his 
 choosing was directed well. Or are we to say 
 that by a man's choice in marriage, as by a cru- 
 cial merit, he deserves his fortune ? One thing 
 at least reason may discern : that a man but 
 partly chooses, he also partly forms, his help- 
 mate ; and he must in part deserve her, or the 
 treasure is but won for a moment to be lost. 
 Fleeming chanced if you will (and indeed all 
 these opportunities are as ' random as blind 
 man's buff ') upon a wife who was worthy of 
 him ; but he had the wit to know it, the courage 
 to wait and labour for his prize, and the tender- 
 ness and chivalry that are required to keep such 
 prizes precious. Upon this point he has himself 
 written well, as usual with fervent optimism, 
 but as usual (in his own phrase) with a truth 
 sticking in his head. 
 
 ' Love,' he wrote, ' is not an intuition of the 
 person most suitable to us, most required by 
 us ; of the person with whom life flowers and 
 bears fruit. If this were so, the chances of our 
 meeting that person would be small indeed ; our 
 intuition would often fail ; the blindness of love
 
 Fleemings idea of Love. 87 
 
 would then be fatal as it is proverbial. No, love 
 works differently, and in its blindness lies its 
 strength. Man and woman, each strongly de- 
 sires to be loved, each opens to the other that 
 heart of ideal aspirations which they have often 
 hid till then ; each, thus knowing the ideal of 
 the other, tries to fulfil that ideal, each partially 
 succeeds. The greater the love, the greater the 
 success ; the nobler the idea of each, the more 
 durable, the more beautiful the effect. Mean- 
 while the blindness of each to the other's de- 
 fects enables the transformation to proceed 
 [unobserved,] so that when the veil is withdrawn 
 (if it ever is, and this I do not know) neither 
 knows that any change has occurred in the per- 
 son whom they loved. Do not fear, therefore. 
 I do not tell you that your friend will not 
 change, but as I am sure that her choice cannot 
 be that of a man with a base ideal, so I am sure 
 the change will be a safe and a good one. Do 
 not fear that anything you love will vanish, he 
 must love it too.' 
 
 Among other introductions in London, Fleem- 
 ing had presented a letter from Mrs. Gaskell to 
 the Alfred Austins. This was a family certain
 
 88 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 to interest a thoughtful young man. Alfred, 
 the youngest and least known of the Austins, 
 had been a beautiful golden-haired child, petted 
 and kept out of the way of both sport and study 
 by a partial mother. Bred an attorney, he had 
 (like both his brothers) changed his way of life, 
 and was called to the bar when past thirty. A 
 Commission of Enquiry into the state of the 
 poor in Dorsetshire gave him an opportunity of 
 proving his true talents ; and he was appointed 
 a Poor Law Inspector, first at Worcester, next 
 at Manchester, where he had to deal with the 
 potato famine and the Irish immigration of the 
 'forties, and finally in London, where he again 
 distinguished himself during an epidemic of 
 cholera. He was then advanced to the Perma- 
 nent Secretaryship of Her Majesty's Office of 
 Works and Public Buildings ; a position which 
 he filled with perfect competence, but with an 
 extreme of modesty ; and on his retirement, in 
 1868, he was made a Companion of the Bath. 
 While apprentice to a Norwich attorney, Alfred 
 Austin was a frequent visitor in the house of 
 Mr. Barren, a rallying place in those days of in- 
 tellectual society. Edward Barren, the son of a
 
 Taylor and Barron. 89 
 
 rich saddler or leather merchant in the Borough, 
 was a man typical of the time. When he was 
 a child, he had once been patted on the head in 
 his father's shop by no less a man than Samuel 
 Johnson, as the Doctor went round the Borough 
 canvassing for Mr. Thrale ; and the child was 
 true to this early consecration. * A life of let- 
 tered ease spent in provincial retirement,' it is 
 thus that the biographer of that remarkable 
 man, William Taylor, announces his subject ; 
 and the phrase is equally descriptive of the life 
 of Edward Barron. The pair were close friends : 
 ' W. T. and a pipe render everything agreeable,' 
 writes Barron in his diary in 1828 ; and in 1833, 
 after Barron had moved to London and Taylor 
 had tasted the first public failure of his powers, 
 the latter wrote : ' To my ever dearest Mr. Bar- 
 ron say, if you please, that I miss him more than 
 I regret him that I acquiesce in his retirement 
 from Norwich, because I could ill brook his ob- 
 servtion of my increasing debility of mind.' 
 This chosen companion of William Taylor must 
 himself have been no ordinary man ; and he was 
 the friend besides of Borrow, whom I find him 
 helping in his Latin. But he had no desire for
 
 90 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 popular distinction, lived privately, married a 
 daughter of Dr. Enfield of Enfield's Speaker, 
 and devoted his time to the education of his 
 family, in a deliberate and scholarly fashion, and 
 with certain traits of stoicism, that would sur- 
 prise a modern. From these children we must 
 single out his youngest daughter, Eliza, who 
 learned under his care to be a sound Latin, an 
 elegant Grecian, and to suppress emotion with- 
 out outward sign after the manner of the Godwin 
 school. This was the more notable, as the girl 
 really derived from the Enfields; whose high- 
 flown romantic temper, I wish I could find space 
 to illustrate. She was but seven years old, when 
 Alfred Austin remarked and fell in love with 
 her ; and the union thus early prepared was sin- 
 gularly full. Where the husband and wife dif- 
 fered, and they did so on momentous subjects, 
 they differed with perfect temper and content ; 
 and in the conduct of life, and in depth and dura- 
 bility of love, they were at one. Each full of high 
 spirits, each practised something of the same 
 repression : no sharp word was uttered in their 
 house. The same point of honour ruled them'. 
 a guest was sacred and stood within the pale
 
 The Austins. gi 
 
 from criticism. It was a house, besides, of un- 
 usual intellectual tension. Mrs. Austin remem- 
 bered, in the early days of the marriage, the 
 three brothers, John, Charles, and Alfred, march- 
 ing to and fro, each with his hands behind his 
 back, and ' reasoning high ' till morning ; and 
 how, like Dr. Johnson, they would cheer their 
 speculations with as many as fifteen cups of tea. 
 And though, before the date of Fleeming's visit, 
 the brothers were separated, Charles long ago 
 retired from the world at Brandeston, and John 
 already near his end in the ' rambling old house * 
 at Weybridge, Alfred Austin and. his wife were 
 still a centre of much intellectual society, and 
 still, as indeed they remained until the last, 
 youthfully alert in mind. There was but one 
 child of the marriage, Anne, and she was herself 
 something new for the eyes of the young vis- 
 itor ; brought up, as she had been, like her 
 mother before her, to the standard of a man's 
 acquirements. Only one art had she been de- 
 nied, she must not learn the violin the thought 
 was too monstrous even for the Austins ; and 
 indeed it would seem as if that tide of reform 
 which we may date from the days of Mary Woll-
 
 92 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 stonecraft had in some degree even receded ; 
 for though Miss Austin was suffered to learn 
 Greek, the accomplishment was keot secret like 
 a piece of guilt. But whether this stealth was 
 caused by a backward movement in public 
 thought since the time of Edward Barren, or by 
 the change from enlightened Norwich to barba- 
 rian London, I have no means of judging. 
 
 When Fleeming presented his letter, he fell 
 in love at first sight with Mrs. Austin and the 
 life and atmosphere of the house. There was 
 in the society of the Austins, outward, stoical 
 conformers to the world, something gravely 
 suggestive of essential eccentricity, something 
 unpretentiously breathing of intellectual effort, 
 that could not fail to hit the fancy of this hot- 
 brained boy. The unbroken enamel of courtesy, 
 the self-restraint, the dignified kindness of these 
 married folk, had besides a particular attraction 
 for their visitor. He could not but compare 
 what he saw, with what he knew of his mother 
 and himself. Whatever virtues Fleeming pos- 
 sessed, he could never count on being civil; 
 whatever brave, true-hearted qualities he was able 
 to admire in Mrs. Jenkin, mildness of demeanour
 
 Fleeming and the Austins. 93 
 
 was not one of them. And here he found per 
 sons who were the equals of his mother and 
 himself in intellect and width of interest, and 
 the equals of his father in mild urbanity of dis- 
 position. Show Fleeming an active virtue, and 
 lie always loved it. He went away from that 
 house struck through with admiration, and vow- 
 ing to himself that his -own married life should 
 be upon that pattern, his wife (whoever she 
 might be) like Eliza Barren, himself such an- 
 other husband as Alfred Austin. What is more 
 strange, he not only brought away, but left be- 
 hind him, golden opinions. He must have been 
 he was, I am told a trying lad ; but there 
 shone out of him such a light of innocent can- 
 dour, enthusiasm, intelligence, and appreciation, 
 that to persons already some way forward in 
 years, and thus able to enjoy indulgently the 
 perennial comedy of youth, the sight of him was 
 delightful. By a pleasant coincidence, there 
 was one person in the house whom he did not 
 appreciate and who did not appreciate him : 
 Anne Austin, his future wife. His boyish van- 
 ity ruffled her; his appearance, never impress- 
 ive, was then, by reason of obtrusive boyishness,
 
 94 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 still less so ; she found occasion to put him in 
 the wrong by correcting a false quantity ; and 
 when Mr. Austin, after doing his visitor the al- 
 most unheard-of honour of accompanying him 
 to the door, announced 'That was what young 
 men were like in my time ' she could only re- 
 ply, looking on her handsome father, ' I thought 
 they had been better looking.' 
 
 This first visit to the Austins took place in 
 1855 ; and it seems it was some time before 
 Fleeming began to know his mind; and yet 
 longer ere he ventured to show it. The cor- 
 rected quantity, to those who knew him well, 
 will seem to have played its part ; he was the 
 man always to reflect over a correction and to 
 admire the castigator. And fall in love he did ; 
 not hurriedly but step by step, not blindly but 
 with critical discrimination ; not in the fashion 
 of Romeo, but before he was done, with all 
 Romeo's ardour and more than Romeo's 
 faith. The high favour to which he presently 
 rose in the esteem of Alfred Austin and his wife, 
 might well give him ambitious notions ; but the 
 poverty of the present and the obscurity of the 
 future were there to give him pause ; and when
 
 F teeming s Engagement. 95 
 
 his aspirations began to settle round Miss 
 Austin, he tasted, perhaps for the only time in 
 his life, the pangs of diffidence. There was in- 
 deed opening before him a wide door of hope. 
 He had changed into the service of Messrs. 
 Liddell & Gordon ; these gentlemen had begun 
 to dabble in the new field of marine telegraphy ; 
 and Fleeming was already face to face with his 
 life's work. That impotent sense of his own 
 value, as of a ship aground, which makes one of 
 the agonies of youth, began to fall from him. 
 New problems which he was endowed to solve, 
 vistas of new enquiry which he was fitted to ex- 
 plore, opened before him continually. His gifts 
 had found their avenue and goal. And with 
 this pleasure of effective exercise, there must 
 have sprung up at once the hope of what is 
 called by the world success. But from these 
 low beginnings, it was a far look upward to Miss 
 Austin : the favour of the loved one seems 
 always more than problematical to any lover; 
 the consent of parents must be always more than 
 doubtful to a young man with a smalt salary 
 and no capital except capacity and hope. But 
 Fleeming was not the lad to lose any good thing
 
 96 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 for the lack of trial ; and at length, in the autumn 
 of 1857, this boyish-sized, boyish-mannered, and 
 superlatively ill-dressed young engineer, en- 
 tered the house of the Austins, with such sink- 
 ings as we may fancy, and asked leave to pay 
 his addresses to the daughter. Mrs. Austin 
 already loved him like a son, she was but too 
 glad to give him her consent ; Mr. Austin re- 
 served the right to inquire into his character; 
 from neither was there a word about his pros- 
 pects, by neither was his income mentioned. 
 ' Are these people,' he wrote, struck with won- 
 der at this dignified disinterestedness, ' are these 
 people the same as other people?' It was not 
 till he was armed with this permission, that Miss 
 Austin even suspected the nature of his hopes: 
 so strong, in this unmannerly boy, was the prin- 
 ciple of true courtesy ; so powerful, in this im- 
 petuous nature, the springs of self-repression. 
 And yet a boy he was ; a boy in heart and mind ; 
 and it was with a boy's chivalry and frankness 
 that he won his wife. His conduct was a model 
 of honour, hardly of tact ; to conceal love from 
 the loved one, to court her parents, to be silent 
 and discreet till these are won, and then with-
 
 Correspondence with his Betrothed. 97 
 
 out preparation to approach the lady these are 
 not arts that I would recommend for imitation. 
 They lead to final refusal. Nothing saved 
 Fleeming from that fate, but one circumstance 
 that cannot be counted upon the hearty favour 
 of the mother, and one gift that is inimitable 
 and that never failed him throughout life, the 
 gift of a nature essentially noble and outspoken. 
 A happy and high-minded anger flashed through 
 his despair : it won for him his wife. 
 
 Nearly two years passed before it was possible 
 to marry : two years of activity, now in London ; 
 now at Birkenhead, fitting out ships, inventing 
 new machinery for new purposes, and dipping 
 into electrical experiment ; now in the Elba on 
 his first telegraph cruise between Sardinia and 
 Algiers : a busy and delightful period of bound- 
 ing ardour, incessant toil, growing hope and 
 fresh interests, with behind and through all, 
 the image of his beloved. A few extracts 
 from his correspondence with his betrothed 
 will give the note of these truly joyous years. 
 ' My profession gives me all the excitement 
 and interest I ever hope for, but the sorry 
 jade is obviously jealous of you.' '"Poor
 
 98 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 Fleeming," in spite of wet, cold and wind, clam- 
 bering over moist, tarry slips, wandering among 
 pools of slush in waste places inhabited by 
 wandering locomotives, grows visibly stronger, 
 has dismissed his office cough and cured his 
 toothache.' ' The whole of the paying out and 
 lifting machinery must be designed and ordered 
 in two or three days, and I am half crazy with 
 work. I like it though: it's like a good ball, 
 the excitement carries you through.' ' I was 
 running to and from the ships and warehouse 
 through fierce gusts of rain and wind till near 
 eleven, and you cannot think what a pleasure it 
 was to be blown about and think of you in your 
 pretty dress.' ' I am at the works till ten and 
 sometimes till eleven. But I have a nice office 
 to sit in, with a fire to myself, and bright brass 
 scientific instruments all round me, and books 
 to read, and experiments to make, and enjoy 
 myself amazingly. I find the study of electricity 
 so entertaining that I am apt to neglect my 
 other work.' And for a last taste, ' Yesterday 
 I had some charming electrical experiments. 
 What shall I compare them to a new song ? a 
 Greek play ? '
 
 Sir William Thomson. 99 
 
 It was at this time besides that he made the 
 acquaintance of Professor, now Sir William, 
 Thomson. To describe the part played by these 
 two in each other's lives would lie out of my 
 way. They worked together on the Committee 
 on Electrical Standards ; they served together 
 at the laying down or the repair of many deep- 
 sea cables ; and Sir William was regarded by 
 Fleeming, not only with the ' worship ' (the word 
 is his own) due to great scientific gifts, but with 
 an ardour of personal friendship not frequently 
 excelled. To their association, Fleeming brought 
 the valuable element of a practical understand- 
 ing ; but he never thought or spoke of himself 
 where Sir William was in question ; and I recall 
 quite in his last days, a singular instance of this 
 modest loyalty to one whom he admired and 
 loyed. He drew up a paper, in a quite personal 
 interest, of his own services ; yet even here he 
 must step out of his way, he must add, where 
 it had no claim to be added, his opinion that, in 
 their joint work, the contributions of Sir Will- 
 iam had been always greatly the most valuable. 
 Again, I shall not readily forget with what emo- 
 tion he once told me an incident of their associ-
 
 ioo Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 ated travels. On one of the mountain ledges of 
 Madeira, Fleeming's pony bolted between Sir 
 William and the precipice above ; by strange 
 good fortune and thanks to the steadiness of 
 Sir William's horse, no harm was done ; but for 
 the moment, Fleeming saw his friend hurled 
 into the sea, and almost by his own act : it was 
 a memory that haunted him.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 1859- -1868. 
 
 Fleeming's Marriage His Married Life Professional Difficultiel 
 Life at Claygate -Illness of Mrs. F. Jenkin ; and of Fleem- 
 ing Appointment to the Chair at Edinburgh. 
 
 Saturday, Feb. 26, 1859, profiting by a 
 holiday of four days, Fleeming was mar- 
 ried to Miss Austin at Northiam : a place con- 
 nected not only with his own family but with 
 that of his bride as well. By Tuesday morning, 
 he was at work again, fitting out cableships at 
 Birkenhead. Of the walk from his lodgings to 
 the works, I find a graphic sketch in one of his 
 letters : ' Out over the railway bridge, along a 
 wide road raised to th i level of a ground floor 
 above the land, which, not being built upon, 
 harbours puddles, ponds, pigs, and Irish hovels ; 
 so to the dock warehouses, four huge piles of 
 building with no windows, surrounded by a wall 
 about twelve feet high ; in through the large 
 gates, round which hang twenty or thirty rusty 
 Irish, playing pitch and toss and waiting for em- 
 
 (101)
 
 IO2 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 ployment ; on along the railway, which came 
 in at the same gates and which branches down 
 between each vast block past a pilot-engine 
 butting refractory trucks into their places on 
 to the last block, [and] down the branch, sniffing 
 the guano-scented air and detecting the old 
 bones. The hartshorn flavour of the guano be- 
 comes very strong, as I near the docks where, 
 across the Elbas decks, a huge vessel is discharg- 
 ing her cargo of the brown dust, and where huge 
 vessels have been discharging that same cargo 
 for the last five months.' This was the walk he 
 took his young wife on the morrow of his return. 
 She had been used to the society of lawyers and 
 civil servants, moving in that circle which seems 
 to itself the pivot of the nation and is in truth 
 only a clique like another ; and Fleeming was to 
 her the nameless assistant of a nameless firm ot 
 engineers, doing his inglorious business, as she 
 now saw for herself, among unsavoury surround- 
 ings. But when their walk brought them with- 
 in view of the river, she beheld a sight to her of 
 the most novel beauty : four great, sea-going 
 ships dressed out with flags. ' How lovely ! ' 
 she cried. ' What is it for ? ' ' For you,' said
 
 Fleeming s Marriage. 103 
 
 Fleeming. Her surprise was only equalled by 
 her pleasure. But perhaps, for what we may 
 call private fame, there is no life like that of the 
 engineer ; who is a great man in out-of-the-way 
 places, by the dockside or on the desert island 
 or in populous ships, and remains quite unheard 
 of in the coteries of London. And Fleeming 
 had already made his mark among the few who 
 had an opportunity of knowing him. 
 
 His marriage was the one decisive incident of 
 his career ; from that moment until the day of 
 his death, he had one thought to which all the 
 rest were tributary, the thought of his wife. No 
 one could know him even slightly, and not re- 
 mark the absorbing greatness of that sentiment ; 
 nor can any picture of the man be drawn that 
 does not in proportion dwell upon it. This is a 
 delicate task ; but if we are to leave behind us 
 (as we wish) some presentment of the friend we 
 have lost, it is a task that must be undertaken. 
 
 For all his play of mind and fancy, for all his 
 indulgence and, as time went on, he grew in- 
 dulgent Fleeming had views of duty that were 
 even stern. He was too shrewd a student of his 
 fellow-men to remain long content with rigid
 
 iO4 Memoir of Flceming Jenkin. 
 
 formulae of conduct. Iron-bound, impersonal 
 ethics, the procrustean bed of rules, he soon saw 
 at their true value as the deification of averages. 
 ' As to Miss (I declare I forget her name) being 
 bad/ I find him writing, ' people only mean that 
 she has broken the Decalogue which is not at 
 all the same thing. People who have kept in 
 the high-road of Life really have less opportuni- 
 ty for taking a comprehensive view of it than 
 those who have leaped over the hedges and 
 strayed up the hills ; not but what the hedges 
 are very necessary, and our stray travellers often 
 have a weary time of it. So, you may say, have 
 those in the dusty roads.' Yet he was himself 
 a very stern respecter of the hedgerows ; sought 
 safety and found dignity in the obvious path of 
 conduct ; and would palter with no simple and 
 recognised duty of his epoch. Of marriage in 
 particular, of the bond so formed, of the obliga- 
 tions incurred, of the debt men owe to their 
 children, he conceived in a truly antique spirit : 
 not to blame others, but to constrain himself. 
 It was not to blame, I repeat, that he held these 
 views ; for others, he could make a large allow- 
 ance ; and yet he tacitly expected of his friends
 
 His Married Life. 105 
 
 and his wife a high standard of behaviour. Nor 
 was it always easy to wear the armour of that 
 ideal. 
 
 Acting upon these beliefs; conceiving that he 
 had indeed ' given himself ' (in the full meaning 
 of these words) for better, for worse ; painfully 
 alive to his defects of temper and deficiency in 
 charm ; resolute to make up for these ; thinking 
 last of himself: Fleeming was in some ways the 
 very man to have made a noble, uphill fight of 
 an unfortunate marriage. In other ways, it is 
 true he was one of the most unfit for such a trial. 
 And it was his beautiful destiny to remain to the 
 last hour the same absolute and romantic lover, 
 who had shown to his new bride the flag-draped 
 vessels in the Mersey. No fate is altogether 
 easy ; but trials are our touchstone, trials over- 
 come our reward ; and it was given to Fleeming 
 to conquer. It was given to him to live for 
 another, not as a task, but till the end as an en- 
 chanting pleasure. ' People may write novels,' 
 he wrote in 1869, 'and other people may write 
 poems, but not a man or woman among them 
 can write to say how happy a man may be, who 
 is desperately in love with his wife after ten
 
 io6 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 years of marriage.' And again in 1885, after 
 more than twenty-six years of marriage, and 
 within but five weeks of his death : ' Your first 
 letter from Bournemouth,' he wrote, ' gives me 
 heavenly pleasure for which I thank Heaven 
 and you too who are my heaven on earth.' 
 The mind hesitates whether to say that such a 
 man has been more good or more fortunate. 
 
 Any woman (it is the defect of her sex) comes 
 sooner to the stable mind of maturity than any 
 man ; and Jenkin was to the end of a most de- 
 liberate growth. In the next chapter, when I 
 come to deal with his telegraphic voyages and 
 give some taste of his correspondence, the reader 
 will still find him at twenty-five an arrant-school- 
 boy. His wife besides was more thoroughly 
 educated than he. In many ways she was able 
 to teach him, and he proud to be taught ; in 
 many ways she outshone him, and he delighted 
 to be outshone. All these superiorities, and 
 others that, after the manner of lovers, he no 
 doubt forged for himself, added as time went on 
 to the humility of his original love. Only once, 
 in all I know of his career, did he show a touch 
 of smallness. He could not learn to sing cor-
 
 His Married Life. 107 
 
 rectly ; his wife told him so and desisted from 
 her lessons ; and the mortification was so sharply 
 felt that for years he could not be induced to go 
 to a concert, instanced himself as a typical man 
 without an ear, and never sang again. I tell it ; 
 for the fact that this stood singular in his be- 
 haviour, and really amazed all who knew him, is 
 the happiest way I can imagine to commend the 
 tenor of his simplicity ; and because it illustrates 
 his feeling for his wife. Others were always 
 welcome to laugh at him ; if it amused them, or 
 if it amused him, he would proceed undisturbed 
 with his occupation, his vanity invulnerable. 
 With his wife it was different : his wife had 
 laughed at his singing ; and for twenty years the 
 fibre ached. Nothing, again, was more notable 
 than the formal chivalry of this unmannered man 
 to the person on earth with whom he was the 
 most familiar. He was conscious of his own in- 
 nate and often rasping vivacity and roughness 
 and he was never forgetful of his first visit to 
 the Austins and the vow he had registered on 
 his return. There was thus an artificial element 
 in his punctilio that at times might almost raise 
 a smile. But it stood on noble grounds ; for
 
 loS Memoir of F teeming Jen kin. 
 
 this was how he sought to shelter from his own 
 petulance the woman who was to him the sym- 
 bol of the household and to the end the beloved 
 of his youth. 
 
 I wish in this chapter to chronicle small beer ; 
 taking a hasty glance at some ten years of mar- 
 ried life and of professional struggle ; and re- 
 serving till the next all the more interesting 
 matter of his cruises. Of his achievements and 
 their worth, it is not for me to speak : his friend 
 and partner, Sir William Thomson, has con- 
 tributed a note on the subject, which will be 
 found in the Appendix, and to which I must 
 refer the reader. He is to conceive in the mean- 
 while for himself Fleeming's manifold engage- 
 ments : his service on the Committee on Elec- 
 trical Standards, his lectures on electricity at 
 Chatham, his chair at the London University, 
 his partnership with Sir William Thomson and 
 Mr. Varley in many ingenious patents, his grow- 
 ing credit with engineers and men of science ; 
 and he is to bear in mind that of all this activity 
 and acquist of reputation, the immediate profit 
 was scanty. Soon after his marriage, Fleeming 
 had left the service of Messrs. Liddell & Gordon,
 
 Professional Difficulties. 109 
 
 and entered into a general engineering partner- 
 ship with Mr. Forde, a gentleman in a good way 
 of business. It was a fortunate partnership in 
 this, that the parties retained their mutual re- 
 spect unlessened and separated with regret ; but 
 men's affairs, like men, have their times of sick- 
 ness, and by one of these unaccountable varia- 
 tions, for hard upon ten years the business was 
 disappointing and the profits meagre. ' Indit- 
 ing drafts of German railways which will never 
 get made ': it is thus I find Fleeming, not with- 
 out a touch of bitterness, describe his occupa- 
 tion. Even the patents hung fire at first. There 
 was no salary to rely on ; children were coming 
 and growing up ; the prospect was often anxious. 
 In the days of his courtship, Fleeming had writ- 
 ten to Miss Austin a dissuasive picture of the 
 trials of poverty, assuring her these were no fig- 
 ments but truly bitter to support ; he told her 
 this, he wrote, beforehand, so that when the 
 pinch came and she suffered, she should not be 
 disappointed in herself nor tempted to doubt her 
 own magnanimity : a letter of admirable wisdom 
 and solicitude. But now that the trouble came, 
 he bore it very lightly. It was his principle, as
 
 no Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 he once prettily expressed it, ' to enjoy each 
 day's happiness, as it arises, like birds or chil- 
 dren.' His optimism, if driven out at the door, 
 would come in again by the window ; if it found 
 nothing but blackness in the present, would hit 
 upon some ground of consolation in the future 
 or the past. And his courage and energy were 
 indefatigable. In the year 1863, soon after the 
 birth of their first son, they moved into a cot- 
 tage at Claygate near Esher ; and about this time, 
 under manifold troubles both of money and 
 health, I find him writing from abroad: 'The 
 country will give us, please God, health and 
 strength. I will love and cherish you more 
 than ever, you shall go where you wish, you 
 shall receive whom you wish and as for 
 money you shall have that too. I cannot be 
 mistaken. I have now measured myself with 
 many men. I do not feel weak, I do not 
 feel that I shall fail. In many things I have 
 succeeded, and I will in this. And meanwhile 
 the time of waiting, which, please Heaven, 
 shall not be long, shall also not be so bitter. 
 Well, well, I promise much, and do not know 
 at this moment how you and the dear child
 
 Life at Clay gate. in 
 
 are. If he is but better, courage, my girl, for I 
 see light.' 
 
 This cottage at Claygate stood just without 
 the village, well surrounded with trees and com- 
 manding a pleasant view. A piece of the garden 
 was turfed over to form a croquet green, and 
 Fleeming became (I need scarce say) a very 
 ardent player. He grew ardent, too, in garden- 
 ing. This he took up at first to please his wife, 
 having no natural inclination ; but he had no 
 sooner set his hand to it, than, like everything 
 else he touched, it became with him a passion. 
 He budded roses, he potted cuttings in the 
 coach-house ; if there came a change of weather 
 at night, he would rise out of bed to protect his 
 favourites ; when he was thrown with a dull 
 companion, it was enough for him to discover 
 in the man a fellow gardener ; on his travels, he 
 would go out of his way to visit nurseries and 
 gather hints ; and to the end of his life, after 
 other occupations prevented him putting his 
 own hand to the spade, he drew up a yearly 
 programme for his gardener, in which all details 
 were regulated. He had begun by this time to 
 write. His paper on Darwin, which had the
 
 1 1 2 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 merit of convincing on one point the philosopher 
 himself, had indeed been written before this in 
 London lodgings ; but his pen was not idle at 
 Claygate ; and it was here he wrote (among 
 other things) that review of ' Fecundity, Fertility, 
 Sterility, and Allied Topics] which Dr. Matthews 
 Duncan prefixed by way of introduction to the 
 second edition of the work. The mere act of 
 writing seems to cheer the vanity of the most 
 incompetent ; but a correction accepted by Dar- 
 win, and a whole review borrowed and reprinted 
 by Matthews Duncan, are compliments of a rare 
 strain, and to a man still unsuccessful must have 
 been precious indeed. There was yet a third of 
 the same kind in store for him ; and when Munro 
 himself owned that he had found instruction in 
 the paper on Lucretius, we may say that Fleem- 
 ing had been crowned in the capitol of review- 
 ing. 
 
 Croquet, charades, Christmas magic lanterns 
 for the village children, an amateur concert or a 
 review article in the evening; plenty of hard 
 work by day; regular visits to meetings of the 
 British Association, from one of which I find 
 hr.-n characteristically writing: 'I cannot say
 
 His Friends and Neighbours. 1 1 3 
 
 that I have had any amusement yet, but I am 
 enjoying the dulness and dry bustle of the whole 
 thing ' ; occasional visits abroad on business, 
 when he would find the time to glean (as I have 
 said) gardening hints for himself, and old folk- 
 songs or new fashions of dress for his wife ; 
 and the continual study and care of his chil- 
 dren : these were the chief elements of his life. 
 Nor were friends wanting. Captain and Mrs. 
 Jenkin, Mr. and Mrs. Austin, Clerk Maxwell, 
 Miss Bell of Manchester, and others came to 
 them on visits. Mr. Hertslet of the Foreign 
 Office, his wife and his daughter, were neigh- 
 bours and proved kind friends ; in 1867 the 
 Howitts came to Claygate and sought the 
 society of ' the two bright, clever young peo- 
 ple '; ' and in a house dose by, Mr. Frederick 
 Ricketts came to live with his family. Mr. 
 Ricketts was a valued friend during his short 
 life ; and when he was lost with every circum- 
 stance of heroism in the La Plata, Fleeming 
 mourned him sincerely. 
 
 I think I shall give the best idea of Fleeming 
 
 1 Reminiscences of My Later Life, by Mary Howitt 
 Good Words, May 1886.
 
 114 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 in this time of his early married life, by a few 
 sustained extracts from his letters to his wife, 
 while she was absent on a visit in 1864. 
 
 ' Nov. ii. Sunday was too wet to walk to 
 Isleworth, for which I was sorry, so I staid and 
 went to Church and thought of you at Ardwick 
 all through the Commandments, and heard Dr. 
 
 expound in a remarkable way a prophecy 
 
 of St. Paul's about Roman Catholics, which 
 mutatis mutandis would do very well for Prot- 
 estants in some parts. Then I made a little 
 nursery of Borecole and Enfield market cabbage, 
 grubbing in wet earth with leggings and gray 
 coat on. Then I tidied up the coach-house to 
 my own and Christine's admiration. Then en- 
 couraged by bouts-rimts I wrote you a copy of 
 verses ; high time 1 think ; I shall just save my 
 tenth year of knowing my lady-love without 
 inditing poetry or rhymes to her. 
 
 ' Then I rummaged over the box with my 
 father's letters and found interesting notes from 
 myself. One I should say my first letter, which 
 little Austin I should say would rejoice to see 
 and shall see with a drawing of a cottage and 
 a spirited " cob." What was more to the pur-
 
 Letters to his Wife. 1 1 5 
 
 pose, I found with it a paste-cutter which Mary 
 begged humbly for Christine and I generously 
 gave this morning. 
 
 ' Then I read some of Congreve. There are 
 admirable scenes in the manner of Sheridan ; 
 all wit and no character, or rather one character 
 in a great variety of situations and scenes. I 
 could show you some scenes, but others are too 
 coarse even for my stomach hardened by a 
 course of French novels. 
 
 ' All things look so happy for the rain. 
 
 ' Nov. 1 6. Verbenas looking well. ... I am 
 but a poor creature without you ; I have natu- 
 rally no spirit or fun or enterprise in me. Only 
 a kind of mechanical capacity for ascertaining 
 whether two really is half four, etc. ; but when 
 you are near me I can fancy that I too shine, 
 and vainly suppose it to be my proper light ; 
 whereas by my extreme darkness when you are 
 not by, it clearly can only be by a reflected brill- 
 iance that I seem aught but dull. Then for 
 the moral part of me: if it were not for you 
 and little Odden, I should feel by no means 
 sure that I had any affection power in me. . . . 
 Even the muscular me suffers a sad deteriora-
 
 n6 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 tion in your absence. I don't get up when I 
 ought to, I have snoozed in my chair after din- 
 ner; I do not go in at the garden with my 
 wonted vigour, and feel ten times as tired as 
 usual with a walk in your absence ; so you see, 
 when you are not by, I am a person without 
 ability, affections or vigour, but droop dull, self- 
 ish, and spiritless ; can you wonder that I love 
 you? 
 
 'Nov. 17. . . . I am very glad we married 
 young. I would not have missed these five 
 years, no, not for any hopes ; they are my own. 
 
 ' Nov. 30. I got through my Chatham lecture 
 very fairly though almost all my apparatus went 
 astray. I dined at the mess, and got home to 
 Isleworth the same evening; your father very 
 kindly sitting up for me. 
 
 ' Dec. I. Back at dear Claygate. Many cut- 
 tings flourish, especially those which do honour 
 to your hand. Your Californian annuals are up 
 and about. Badger is fat, the grass green. . . . 
 
 ' Dec. 3. Odden will not talk of you, while 
 you are away, having inherited, as I suspect, his 
 father's way of declining to consider a subject 
 which is painful, as your absence is. ... I cer
 
 Letters to his Wife. 117 
 
 tainly should like to learn Greek and I think it 
 would be a capital pastime for the long winter 
 evenings. . . . How things are misrated ! I 
 declare croquet is a noble occupation compared 
 to the pursuits of business men As for so- 
 called idleness that is, one form of it I vow 
 it is the noblest aim of man. When idle, one 
 can love, one can be good, feel kindly to all, 
 devote oneself to others, be thankful for exist- 
 ence, educate one's mind, one's heart, one's 
 body. When busy, as I am busy now or have 
 been busy to-day, one feels just as you some- 
 times felt when you were too busy, owing to 
 want of servants. 
 
 'Dec. 5. On Sunday I was at Isleworth, chiefly 
 engaged in playing with Odden. We had the 
 most enchanting walk together through the 
 brickfields. It was very muddy, and, as he re- 
 marked, not fit for Nanna, but fit for us men. 
 The dreary waste of bared earth, thatched sheds 
 and standing water, was a paradise to him ; and 
 when we walked up planks to deserted mixing 
 and crushing mills, and actually saw where the 
 clay was stirred with long iron prongs, and 
 chalk or lime ground with " a tind of a mill,"
 
 1 1 8 Memoir of F Iteming Jen kin. 
 
 his expression of contentment and triumphant 
 heroism knew no limit to its beauty. Of course 
 on returning I found Mrs. Austin looking out 
 at the door in an anxious manner, and thinking 
 we had been out quite long enough. ... I am 
 reading Don Quixote chiefly and am his fervent 
 admirer, but I am so sorry he did not place his 
 affections on a Dulcinea of somewhat worthier 
 stamp. In fact I think there must be a mistake 
 about it. Don Quixote might and would serve 
 his lady in most preposterous fashion, but I am 
 sure he would have chosen a lady of merit. He 
 imagined her to be such no doubt, and drew a 
 charming picture of her occupations by the 
 banks of the river; but in his other imagina- 
 tions, there was some kind of peg on which 
 to hang the false costumes he created ; wind- 
 mills are big, and wave their arms like giants ; 
 sheep in the distance are somewhat like an 
 army ; a little boat on the river-side must look 
 much the same whether enchanted or belonging 
 to millers ; but except that Dulcinea is a wom- 
 an, she bears no resemblance at all to the 
 damsel of his imagination.' 
 
 At the time of these letters, the oldest son
 
 Illness of Mrs. F. Jenkin. 1 1 9 
 
 only was born to them. In September of the 
 next year, with the birth of the second, Charles 
 Frewen, there befell Fleeming a terrible alarm 
 and what proved to be a lifelong misfortune. 
 Mrs. Jenkin was taken suddenly and alarmingly 
 ill ; Fleeming ran a matter of two miles to fetch 
 the doctor, and drenched with sweat as he was, 
 returned with him at once in an open gig. On 
 their arrival at the house, Mrs. Jenkin half un- 
 consciously took and kept hold of her husband's 
 hand. By the doctor's orders, windows and 
 doors were set open to create a thorough 
 draught, and the patient was on no account to 
 be disturbed. Thus, then, did Fleeming pass 
 the whole of that night, crouching on the floor 
 in the draught, and not daring to move lest he 
 should wake the sleeper. He had never been 
 strong ; energy had stood him instead of vigour; 
 and the result of that night's exposure was 
 flying rheumatism varied by settled sciatica. 
 Sometimes it quite disabled him, sometimes it 
 was less acute ; but he was rarely free from it 
 until his death. I knew him for many years ; 
 for more than ten we were closely intimate ; I 
 have lived with him for weeks ; and during all
 
 1 20 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 this time, he only once referred to his infirmity 
 and then perforce as an excuse for some trouble 
 he put me to, and so slightly worded that I 
 paid no heed. This is a good measure of his 
 courage under sufferings of which none but the 
 untried will think lightly. And I think it worth 
 noting how this optimist was acquainted with 
 pain. It will seem strange only to the super- 
 ficial. The disease of pessimism springs never 
 from real troubles, which it braces men to bear, 
 which it delights men to bear well. Nor does 
 it readily spring at all, in minds that have con- 
 ceived of life as a field of ordered duties, not 
 as a chase in which to hunt for gratifications. 
 ' We are not here to be happy, but to be good '; 
 I wish he had mended the phrase : ' We are not 
 here to be happy, but to try to be good,' comes 
 nearer the modesty of truth. \Vith such old- 
 fashioned morality, it is possible to get through 
 life, and see the worst of it, and feel some of 
 the worst of it, and still acquiesce piously and 
 even gladly in man's fate. Feel some of the 
 worst of it, I say ; for some of the rest of the 
 worst is, by this simple faith, excluded. 
 
 It was in the year 1868, that the clouds finally
 
 In the University of Edinburgh. 121 
 
 rose. The business in partnership with Mr 
 Forde began suddenly to pay well ; about the 
 same time the patents showed themselves a 
 valuable property ; and but a little after, 
 Fleeming was appointed to the new chair of 
 engineering in the University of Edinburgh. 
 Thus, almost at once, pecuniary embarrass- 
 ments passed for ever out of his life. Here is 
 his own epilogue to the time at Claygate, and 
 his anticipations of the future in Edinburgh. 
 
 ' . . . . The dear old house at Claygate is 
 not let and the pretty garden a mass of weeds. 
 I feel rather as if we had behaved unkindly to 
 them. We were very happy there, but now that 
 it is over I am conscious of the weight of anx- 
 iety as to money which I bore all the time. 
 With you in the garden, with Austin in the 
 coach-house, with pretty songs in the little, low 
 white room, with the moonlight in the dear room 
 up-stairs, ah, it was perfect ; but the long walk, 
 wondering, pondering, fearing, scheming, and 
 the dusty jolting railway, and the horrid fusty 
 office with its endless disappointments, they 
 are well gone. It is well enough to fight and 
 scheme and bustle about in the eager crowd
 
 122 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 here [in London] for a while now and then, but 
 not for a lifetime. What I have now is just 
 perfect. Study for winter, action for summer, 
 lovely country for recreation, a pleasant town 
 for talk. . . .'
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NOTES OF TELEGRAPH VOYAGES, 1858 TO 1873. 
 
 1T)UT it is now time to see Jenkin at his life's 
 U work. I have before me certain imperfect 
 series of letters written, as he says, ' at hazard, 
 for one does not know at the time what is im- 
 portant and what is not ': the earlier addressed 
 to Miss Austin, after the betrothal ; the later to 
 Mrs. Jenkin the young wife. I should premise 
 that I have allowed myself certain editorial free- 
 doms, leaving out and splicing together much 
 as he himself did with the Bona cable : thus 
 edited the letters speak for themselves, and will 
 fail to interest none who love adventure or activ- 
 ity. Addressed as they were to her whom he 
 called his ' dear engineering pupil,' they give a 
 picture of his work so clear that a child may un- 
 derstand, and so attractive that I am half afraid 
 their publication may prove harmful, and still 
 further crowd the ranks of a profession already 
 overcrowded. But their most engaging quality 
 is the picture of the writer; with his indomi- 
 
 (123)
 
 1 24 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 table self-confidence and courage, his readiness 
 in every pinch of circumstance or change of 
 plan, and his ever fresh enjoyment of the 
 whole web of human experience, nature, adven- 
 ture, science, toil and rest, society and solitude. 
 It should be borne in mind that the writer of 
 these buoyant pages was, even while he wrote, 
 harassed by responsibility, stinted in sleep and 
 often struggling with the prostration of sea-sick- 
 ness. To this last enemy, which he never over- 
 came, I have omitted, in my search after con- 
 densation, a good many references ; if they were 
 all left, such was the man's temper, they would 
 not represent one hundredth part of what he 
 suffered, for he was never given to complaint. 
 But indeed he had met this ugly trifle, as he 
 met every thwart circumstance of life, with a 
 certain pleasure of pugnacity ; and suffered it 
 not to check him, whether in the exercise of his 
 profession or the pursuit of amusement. 
 
 I. 
 
 ' Birkenhead : April 18, 1858. 
 
 'Well, you should know, Mr. having a 
 
 contract to lay down a submarine telegraph
 
 The African Cable. 125 
 
 from Sardinia to Africa failed three times in 
 the attempt. The distance from land to land 
 is about 140 miles. On the first occasion, after 
 proceeding some 70 miles, he had to cut the ca- 
 ble the cause I forget ; he tried again, same 
 result ; then picked up about 20 miles of the 
 lost cable, spliced on a new piece, and very 
 nearly got across that time, but ran short of 
 cable, and when but a few miles off Galita in 
 very deep water, had to telegraph to London 
 for more cable to be manufactured and sent out 
 whilst he tried to stick to the end : for five days, 
 I think, he lay there sending and receiving mes- 
 sages, but heavy weather coming on the cable 
 
 parted and Mr. went home in despair at 
 
 least I should think so. 
 
 ' He then applied to those eminent engineers, 
 R. S. Newall & Co., who made and laid down a 
 cable for him last autumn Fleeming Jenkin 
 (at the time in considerable mental agitation) 
 having the honour of fitting out the Elba for 
 that purpose.' [On this occasion, the Elba 
 has no cable to lay; but] 'is going out in the 
 beginning of May to endeavour to fish up the 
 cables Mr. -lost. There are two ends at or
 
 T26 Memoir of F teeming Jenktn. 
 
 near the shore : the third will probably not be 
 found within 20 miles from land. One of these 
 ends will be passed over a very big pulley or 
 sheave at the bows, passed six times round a 
 big barrel or drum ; which will be turned round 
 by a steam engine on deck, and thus wind up 
 the cable, while the Elba slowly steams ahead. 
 The cable is not wound round and round the 
 drum as your silk is wound on its reel, but on 
 the contrary never goes round more than six 
 times, going off at one side as it comes on at 
 the other, and going down into the hold of the 
 Elba to be coiled, along in a big coil or skein. 
 
 ' I went down to Gateshead to discuss with 
 Mr. Newall the form which this tolerably sim- 
 ple idea should take, and have been busy since 
 I came here drawing, ordering, and putting up 
 the machinery uninterfered with, thank good- 
 ness, by any one. I own I like responsibility ; 
 it flatters one and then, your father might say, 
 I have more to gain than to lose. Moreover I 
 do like this bloodless, painless combat with 
 wood and iron, forcing the stubborn rascals to 
 do my will, licking the clumsy cubs into an act- 
 ive shape, seeing the child of. to-day's thought
 
 Getting Ready to Sail. 127 
 
 working to-morrow in full vigour at his ap- 
 pointed task. 
 
 May 12. 
 
 ' By dint of bribing, bullying, cajoling, and go- 
 ing day by day to see the state of things or- 
 dered, all my work is very nearly ready now ; 
 but those who have neglected these precautions 
 are of course disappointed. Five hundred fath- 
 oms of chain [were] ordered by some three 
 
 weeks since, to be ready by the loth without 
 fail; he sends for it to-day 150 fathoms all 
 they can let us have by the i$th and how the 
 rest is to be got, who knows? He ordered a 
 boat a month since and yesterday we could see 
 nothing of her but the keel and about two 
 planks. I could multiply instances without 
 end. At first one goes nearly mad with vexa- 
 tion at these things ; but one finds so soon that 
 they are the rule, that then it becomes necessary 
 to feign a rage one does not feel. I look upon 
 it as the natural order of things, that if I order 
 a thing, it will not be done if by accident it 
 gets done, it will certainly be done wrong: the 
 only remedy being to watch the performance at 
 every stage.
 
 128 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 ' To-day was a grand field-day. I had steam 
 up and tried the engine against pressure or re- 
 sistance. One part of the machinery is driven 
 by a belt or strap of leather. I always had my 
 doubts this might slip ; and so it did, wildly. I 
 had made provision for doubling it, putting on 
 two belts instead of one. No use off they 
 went, slipping round and off the pulleys in- 
 stead of driving the machinery. Tighten them 
 no use. More strength there down with the 
 lever smash something, tear the belts, but get 
 them tight now then, stand clear, on with the 
 steam ; and the belts slip away as if nothing 
 held them. Men begin to look queer; the cir- 
 cle of quidnuncs make sage remarks. Once 
 more no use. I begin to know I ought to 
 feel sheepish and beat, but somehow I feel 
 cocky instead. I laugh and say, " Well, I am 
 bound to break something down " and sud- 
 denly see. " Oho, there's the place ; get weight 
 on there, and the belt won't slip." With much 
 labour, on go the belts again. " Now then, a 
 spar thro' there and six men's weight on ; mind 
 you're not carried away." " Ay, ay, sir." But 
 evidently no one believes in the plan. " Hur
 
 The 'Elba' Sails. 129 
 
 rah, round she goes stick to your spar. All 
 right, shut off steam." And the difficulty is 
 vanquished. 
 
 ' This or such as this (not always quite so bad) 
 occurs hour after hour, while five hundred tons 
 of coal are rattling down into the holds and 
 bunkers, riveters are making their infernal row 
 all round, and riggers bend the sails and fit the 
 rigging : a sort of Pandemonium, it appeared 
 to young Mrs. Newall, who was here on Mon- 
 day and half-choked with guano ; but it suits the 
 likes o' me. 
 
 'S.S. Elba, River Mersey: May 17. 
 
 ' We are delayed in the 'river by some of the 
 ship's papers not being ready. Such a scene at 
 the dock gates. Not a sailor will join till the 
 last moment ; and then, just as the ship forges 
 ahead through the narrow pass, beds and bag- 
 gage fly on board, the men half tipsy clutch at 
 the rigging, the captain swears, the women 
 scream and sob, the crowd cheer and laugh, 
 while one or two pretty little girls stand still and 
 cry outright, regardless of all eyes. 
 
 ' These two days of comparative peace have 
 quite set me on my legs again. I was getting
 
 1 30 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 worn and weary with anxiety and work As 
 usual I have been delighted with my ship- 
 wrights. I gave them some beer on Saturday, 
 making a short oration. To-day when they 
 went ashore and I came on board, they gave 
 three cheers, whether for me or the ship I hard- 
 ly know, but I had just bid them good-bye, and 
 the ship was out of hail ; but I was startled and 
 hardly liked to claim the compliment by ac- 
 knowledging it. 
 
 ' S.S. Elba : May 25. 
 
 'My first intentions of a long journal have 
 been fairly frustrated by sea-sickness. On Tues- 
 day last about noon we started from the Mersey 
 in very dirty weather, and were hardly out of 
 the river when we met a gale from the south- 
 west and a heavy sea, both right in our teeth ; 
 and the poor Elba had a sad shaking. Had I 
 not been very sea-sick, the sight would have 
 been exciting enough, as I sat wrapped in my 
 oilskins on the bridge ; [but] in spite of all my 
 efforts to talk, to eat, and to grin, I soon col- 
 lapsed into imbecility ; and I was heartily thank- 
 ful towards evening to find myself in bed. 
 
 ' Next morning, I fancied it grew quieter and,
 
 In Holy head Harbour. 131 
 
 as I lirtened, heard, " Let go the anchor," where- 
 on I concluded we had run into Holyhead Har- 
 bour, as was indeed the case. All that day we 
 lay in Holyhead, but I could neither read nor 
 write nor draw. The captain of another steamer 
 which had put in came on board, and we all went 
 for a walk on the hill ; and in the evening there 
 was an exchange of presents. We gave some 
 tobacco I think, and received a cat, two pounds 
 of fresh butter, a Cumberland ham, Westward 
 Ho ! and Thackeray's English Humourists. I 
 was astonished at receiving two such fair books 
 from the captain of a little coasting screw. Our 
 captain said he [the captain of the screw] 
 had plenty of money, five or six hundred a 
 year at least. " What in the world makes him 
 go rolling about in such a craft, then ? " 
 " W T hy, I fancy he's reckless ; he's desperate 
 in love with that girl I mentioned, and she 
 won't look at him." Our honest, fat, old cap- 
 tain says this very grimly in his thick, broad 
 voice. 
 
 * My head won't stand much writing yet, so I 
 will run up and take a look at the blue night 
 sky off the coast of Portugal.
 
 132 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 ' May 26. 
 
 ' A nice lad of some two and twenty, A 
 
 by name, goes out in a nondescript capacity as 
 part purser, part telegraph clerk, part generally 
 useful person. A was a great comfort dur- 
 ing the miseries [of the gale] ; for when with a 
 dead head wind and a heavy sea, plates, books, 
 papers, stomachs were being rolled about in sad 
 confusion, we generally managed to lie on our 
 backs, and grin, and try discordant staves of the 
 Flowers of the Forest and the Low-backed Car. 
 We could sing and laugh, when we could do noth- 
 ing else ; though A was ready to swear after 
 
 each fit was past, that that was the first time he 
 had felt anything, and at this moment would de- 
 clare in broad Scotch that he'd never been sick at 
 all, qualifying the oath with " except for a minute 
 now and then." He brought a cornet-a-piston 
 to practice on, having had three weeks' instruc- 
 tions on that melodious instrument ; and if you 
 could hear the horrid sounds that come ! especial 
 ly at heavy rolls. When I hint he is not improv- 
 ing, there comes a confession : " I don't feel quite 
 right yet, you see ! " But he blows away manfully, 
 and in self-defence I try to roar the tune louder.
 
 The Second Mates Story. 133 
 
 '11:30 P.M. 
 
 ' Long past Cape St. Vincent now. We went 
 within about 400 yards of the cliffs and light- 
 house in a calm moonlight, with porpoises 
 springing from the sea, the men crooning long 
 ballads as they lay idle on the forecastle and the 
 sails flapping uncertain on the yards. As we 
 passed, there came a sudden breeze from land, 
 hot and heavy scented ; and now as I write its 
 warm rich flavour contrasts strongly with the 
 salt air we have been breathing. 
 
 'I paced the deck with H , the second 
 
 mate, and in the quiet night drew a confession 
 that he was engaged to be married, and gave 
 him a world of good advice. He is a very nice, 
 active, little fellow, with a broad Scotch tongue 
 and "dirty, little rascal" appearance. He had 
 a sad disappointment at starting. Having been 
 second mate on the last voyage, when the first 
 mate was discharged, he took charge of the Elba 
 all the time she was in port, and of course looked 
 forward to being chief mate this trip. Liddell 
 promised him the post. He had not authority 
 to do this ; and when Newall heard of it, he ap- 
 pointed another man. Fancy poor H having
 
 134 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 told all the men and most of all, his sweetheart , 
 But more remains behind ; for when it came to 
 
 signing articles, it turned out that O , the 
 
 new first mate, had not a certificate which al- 
 lowed him to have a second mate. Then came 
 
 rather an affecting scene. For H proposed 
 
 to sign as chief (he having the necessary higher 
 certificate) but to act as second for the lower 
 wages. At first O would not give in, but of- 
 fered to go as second. But our brave little H 
 
 said, no : " The owners wished Mr. O to be 
 
 chief mate, and chief mate he should be." So 
 he carried the day, signed as chief and acts as 
 second. Shakespeare and Byron are his favour- 
 ite books. I walked into Byron a little, but can 
 well understand his stirring up a rough, young 
 sailor's romance. I lent him Westward Ho from 
 the cabin ; but to my astonishment he did not 
 care much for it ; he said it smelt of the shilling 
 railway library ; perhaps I had praised it too 
 highly. Scott is his standard for novels. I am 
 very happy to find good taste by no means con- 
 fined to gentlemen, H having no pretensions 
 
 to that title. He is a man after my own heart. 
 * Then I came down to the cabin and heard
 
 Off Fort Genova. 135 
 
 young A 's schemes for the future. His 
 
 highest picture is a commission in the Prince 
 of Vizianagram's irregular horse. His eldest 
 brother is tutor to his Highness's children, and 
 grand vizier, and magistrate, and on his Highness's 
 household staff, and seems to be one of those 
 Scotch adventurers one meets with and hears of 
 in queer berths raising cavalry, building palaces, 
 and using some petty Eastern king's long purse 
 with their long Scotch heads. 
 
 ' Off Bona: June 4 
 
 ' I read your letter carefully, leaning back in 
 a Maltese boat to present the smallest surface of 
 my body to a grilling sun, and sailing from the 
 Elba to Cape Hamrah about three miles distant. 
 How we fried and sighed ! At last, we reached 
 land under Fort Genova, and I was carried ashore 
 pick-a-back, and plucked the first flower I saw for 
 Annie. It was a strange scene, far more novel 
 than I had "'imagined : the high, steep banks cov- 
 ered with rich, spicy vegetation of which I hard- 
 ly knew one plant. The dwarf palm with fan- 
 like leaves, growing about two feet high, formed 
 the staple of the verdure. As we brushed through
 
 136 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 them, the gummy leaves of a cistus stuck to the 
 clothes ; and with its small white flower and yel- 
 low heart, stood for our English dog-rose. In 
 place of heather, we had myrtle and lentisque 
 with leaves somewhat similar. That large bulb 
 with long flat leaves? Do not touch it if your 
 hands are cut ; the Arabs use it as blisters for 
 their horses. Is that the same sort? No, take 
 that one up ; it is the bulb of a dwarf palm, each 
 layer of the onion peels off, brown and netted, 
 like the outside of a cocoa-nut. It is a clever 
 plant that ; from the leaves we get a vegetable 
 horsehair; and eat the bottom of the centre 
 spike. All the leaves you pull have the same 
 aromatic scent. But here a little patch of cleared 
 ground shows old friends, who seem to cling by 
 abused civilisation : fine, hardy thistles, one of 
 them bright yellow, though ; honest, Scotch- 
 looking, large daisies or gowans ; potatoes here 
 and there, looking but sickly ; and dark sturdy 
 fig-trees looking cool and at their ease in the 
 burning sun. 
 
 * Here we are at Fort Geneva, crowning the 
 little point, a small old building, due to my old 
 Genoese acquaintance who fought and traded
 
 In Fort Genova. 137 
 
 bravely once upon a time. A broken cannon 
 of theirs forms the threshold ; and through a 
 dark, low arch, we enter upon broad terraces 
 sloping to the centre, from which rain water 
 may collect and run into that well. Large- 
 breeched French troopers lounge about and are 
 most civil ; and the whole party sit down to 
 breakfast in a little white-washed room, from 
 the door of which the long, mountain coastline 
 and the sparkling sea show of an impossible blue 
 through the openings of a white-washed ram- 
 part. I try a sea-egg, one of those prickly fel- 
 lows sea-urchins, they are called sometimes ; 
 the shell is of a lovely purple, and when opened, 
 there are rays of yellow adhering to the inside ; 
 these I eat, but they are very fishy. 
 
 1 We are silent and shy of one another, and 
 soon go out to watch while turbaned, blue- 
 breeched, barelegged Arabs dig holes for the 
 land telegraph posts on the following principle : 
 one man takes a pick and bangs lazily at the 
 hard earth ; when a little is loosened, his mate 
 with a small spade lifts it on one side ; and da 
 capo. They have regular features and look quite 
 in place among the palms. Our English work-
 
 138 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 men screw the earthenware insulators on the 
 posts, strain the wire, and order Arabs about by 
 
 the generic term of Johnny. I find W has 
 
 nothing for me to do ; and that in fact no one 
 has anything to do. Some instruments for test- 
 ing have stuck at Lyons, some at Cagliari ; and 
 nothing can be done or at any rate, is done. 
 I wander about, thinking of you and staring at 
 big, green grasshoppers locusts, some people 
 call them and smelling the rich brushwood. 
 There was nothing for a pencil to sketch, and I 
 soon got tired of this work, though I have paid 
 willingly much money for far less strange and 
 lovely sights. 
 
 ' Off Cape Spartivento : June 8. 
 ' At two this morning, we left Cagliari ; at 
 five cast anchor here. I got up and began pre- 
 paring for the final trial ; and shortly afterwards 
 everyone else of note on board went ashore to 
 make experiments on the state of the cable, 
 leaving me with the prospect of beginning to 
 lift at 12 o'clock. I was not ready by that time; 
 but the experiments were not concluded and 
 moreover the cable was found to be imbedded 
 some four or five feet in sand, so that the boat
 
 Grappling for the Cable. 139 
 
 could not bring off the end. At three, Messrs. 
 Liddell, &c., came on board in good spirits, hav- 
 ing found two wires good or in such a state as 
 permitted messages to be transmitted freely. 
 The boat now went to grapple for the cable 
 some way from shore while the Elba towed a 
 small lateen craft which was to take back the 
 consul to Cagliari some distance on its way. 
 On our return we found the boat had been un- 
 successful ; she was allowed to drop astern, 
 while we grappled for the cable in the Elba 
 [without more success]. The coast is a low 
 mountain range covered with brushwood or 
 heather pools of water and a sandy beach at 
 their feet. I have not yet been ashore, my 
 
 hands having been very full all day. 
 
 'June 9. 
 
 * Grappling for the cable outside the bank had 
 been voted too uncertain ; [and the day was 
 spent in] efforts to pull the cable off through 
 the sand which has accumulated over it. By 
 getting the cable tight on to the boat, and let- 
 ting the swell pitch her about till it got slack, 
 and then tightening again with blocks and pul- 
 leys, we managed to get out from the beach
 
 140 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 towards the ship at the rate of about twenty 
 yards an hour. When they had got about ico 
 yards from shore, we ran round in the Elba to 
 try and help them, letting go the anchor in the 
 shallowest possible water, this was about sunset. 
 Suddenly someone calls out he sees the cable at 
 the bottom : there it was sure enough, appar- 
 ently wriggling about as the waves rippled. 
 Great excitement ; still greater when we find 
 our own anchor is foul of it and has been the 
 means of bringing it to light. We let go a 
 grapnel, get the cable clear of the anchor on to 
 the grapnel the captain in an agony lest we 
 should drift ashore meanwhile hand the grap- 
 pling line into the big boat, steam out far 
 enough, and anchor again. A little more work 
 and one end of the cable is up over the bows 
 round my drum. I go to my engine and we 
 start hauling in. All goes pretty well, but it is 
 quite dark. Lamps are got at last, and men ar- 
 ranged. We go on for a quarter of a mile or 
 so from shore and then stop at about half-past 
 nine with orders to be up at three. Grand work 
 at last ! A number of the Saturday Review 
 here ; it reads so hot and feverish, so tomblike
 
 A Fortunate Day. 141 
 
 and unhealthy, in the midst of dear Nature's 
 hills and sea, with good wholesome work to do. 
 Pray that all go well to-morrow. 
 
 ' June 10. 
 
 ' Thank heaven for a most fortunate day. At 
 three o'clock this morning in a damp, chill mist 
 all hands were roused to work. With a small 
 delay, for one or two improvements I had seen 
 to be necessary last night, the engine started 
 and since that time I do not think there has 
 been half an hour's stoppage. A rope to splice, 
 a block to change, a wheel to oil, an old rusted 
 anchor to disengage from the cable which 
 brought it up, these have been our only ob- 
 structions. Sixty, seventy, eighty, a hundred, 
 a hundred and twenty revolutions at last, my 
 little engine tears away. The even black rope 
 comes straight out of the blue heaving water : 
 passes slowly round an open-hearted, good-tem- 
 pered looking pulley, five feet diameter; aft 
 past a vicious nipper, to bring all up should 
 anything go wrong ; through a gentle guide ; on 
 to a huge bluff drum, who wraps him round his 
 body and says " Come you must," as plain as 
 drum can speak : the chattering pauls say " I've
 
 142 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 got him, I've got him, he can't get back": 
 whilst black cable, much slacker and easier in 
 mind and body, is taken by a slim V-pulley and 
 passed down into the huge hold, where half a 
 dozen men put him comfortably to bed after his 
 exertion in rising from his long bath. In good 
 sooth, it is one of the strangest sights I know 
 to see that black fellow rising up so steadily in 
 the midst of the blue sea. We are more than 
 half way to the place where we expect the fault ; 
 and already the one wire, supposed previously 
 to be quite bad near the African coast, can be 
 spoken through. I am very glad I am here, for 
 my machines are my own children and I look 
 on their little failings with a parent's eye and 
 lead them into the path of duty with gentleness 
 and firmness. I am naturally in good spirits, 
 but keep very quiet, for misfortunes may arise 
 at any instant ; moreover to-morrow my paying- 
 out apparatus will be wanted should all go well, 
 and that will be another nervous operation. 
 Fifteen miles are safely in ; but no one knows 
 better than I do that nothing is done till all is 
 done.
 
 Hauling in the Cable. 143 
 
 June ii. 
 
 ' 9 A.M. We have reached the splice supposed 
 to be faulty, and no fault has been found. The 
 
 two men learned in electricity, L and 
 
 W , squabble where the fault is. 
 
 ' Even ing. A weary day in a hot broiling 
 
 sun ; no air. After the experiments, L said 
 
 the fault might be ten miles ahead ; by that 
 time, we should be according to a chart in about 
 a thousand fathoms of water rather more than 
 a mile. It was most difficult to decide whether 
 to go on or not. I made preparations for a 
 heavy pull, set small things to rights and went 
 to sleep. About four in the afternoon, Mr. 
 Liddell decided to proceed, and we are now (at 
 seven) grinding it in at the rate of a mile and 
 three-quarters per hour, which appears a grand 
 speed to us. If the paying-out only works well ! 
 I have just thought of a great improvement in 
 it ; I can't apply it this time, however. The 
 sea is of an oily calm, and a perfect fleet of 
 brigs and ships surrounds us, their sails hardly 
 filling in the lazy breeze. The sun sets behind 
 the dim coast of the Isola San Pietro, the coasfe 
 of Sardinia high and rugged becomes softer and
 
 144 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 softer in the distance, while to the westward 
 still the isolated rock of Toro springs from the 
 horizon. It would amuse you to see how cool 
 (in head) and jolly everybody is. A testy word 
 now and then shows the wires are strained a lit- 
 tle, but everyone laughs and makes his little 
 jokes as if it were all in fun : yet we are all as 
 much in earnest as the most earnest of the 
 earnest bastard German school or demonstrative 
 of Frenchmen. I enjoy it very much. 
 
 'June 12. 
 
 5.30 A.M. Out of sight of land : about 
 thirty nautical miles in the hold ; the wind ris- 
 ing a little ; experiments being made for a fault, 
 while the engine slowly revolves to keep us 
 hanging at the same spot : depth supposed 
 about a mile. The machinery has behaved ad- 
 mirably. Oh ! that the paying-out were over ! 
 The new machinery there is but rough, meant 
 for an experiment in shallow water, and here we 
 are in a mile of water. 
 
 '6.30. I have made my calculations and find 
 the new paying-out gear cannot possibly answer 
 at this depth, some portion would give way.
 
 Hunting for the Faults. 145 
 
 Luckily, I have brought the old things with me 
 and am getting them rigged up as fast as may 
 be. Bad news from the cable. Number four 
 has given in some portion of the last ten miles : 
 the fault in number three is still at the bottom 
 of the sea : number two is now the only good 
 wire and the hold is getting in such a mess, 
 through keeping bad bits out and cutting for 
 splicing and testing, that there will be great risk 
 in paying out. The cable is somewhat strained 
 in its ascent from one mile below us ; what it 
 will be when we get to two miles is a problem 
 we may have to determine. 
 
 '9 P.M. A most provoking unsatisfactory 
 day. We have done nothing. The wind and 
 sea have both risen. Too little notice has been 
 given to the telegraphists who accompany this 
 expedition ; they had to leave all their instru- 
 ments at Lyons in order to arrive at Bona in 
 time; our tests are therefore of the roughest, 
 and no one really knows where the faults are. 
 
 Mr. L in the morning lost much time ; then 
 
 he told us, after we had been inactive for about 
 eight hours, that the fault in number three was 
 within six miles ; and at six o'clock in the even-
 
 146 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 ing, when all was ready for a start to pick up 
 these six miles, he comes and says there must 
 be a fault about thirty miles from Bona ! By 
 this time it was too late to begin paying out to- 
 day, and we must lie here moored in a thousand 
 fathoms till light to-morrow morning. The ship 
 pitches a good deal, but the wind is going down. 
 
 ' June 13, Sunday. 
 
 ' The wind has not gone down, however. It 
 now (at 10.30) blows a pretty stiff gale, the sea 
 has also risen ; and the Elba's bows rise and fall 
 about 9 feet. We make twelve pitches to the 
 minute, and the poor cable must feel very sea- 
 sick by this time. We are quite unable to do 
 anything, and continue riding at anchor in one 
 thousand fathoms, the engines going constantly 
 so as to keep the ship's bows up to the cable, 
 which by this means hangs nearly vertical and 
 sustains no strain but that caused by its own 
 weight and the pitching of the vessel. We 
 were all up at four, but the weather entirely for- 
 bade work for to-day, so some went to bed and 
 most lay down, making up our leeway, as we 
 nautically term our loss of sleep. I must say
 
 Finishing the Work. 147 
 
 Liddell is a fine fellow and keeps his patience 
 and temper wonderfully ; and yet how he does 
 fret and fume about trifles at home ! This wind 
 has blown now for 36 hours, and yet we have 
 telegrams from Bona to say the sea there is as 
 calm as a mirror. It makes one laugh to re- 
 member one is still tied to the shore. Click, 
 click, click, the pecker is at work : I wonder what 
 
 Herr P says to Herr L , tests, tests, 
 
 tests, nothing more. This will be a very anx- 
 ious day. 
 
 ' June 14. 
 
 ' Another day of fatal inaction. 
 
 'June 15. 
 
 ' 9.30. The wind has gone down a deal ; but 
 even now there are doubts whether we shall 
 start to-day. When shall I get back to you ? 
 
 '9 P.M. Four miles from land. Our run has 
 been successful and eventless. Now the work 
 is nearly over I feel a little out of spirits why, 
 I should be puzzled to say mere wantonness, 
 or reaction perhaps after suspense. 
 
 'June 16. 
 
 ' Up this morning at three, coupled my self- 
 acting gear to the brake and had the satisfaction
 
 148 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 of seeing it pay out the last four miles in very 
 good style. With one or two little improve- 
 ments, I hope to make it a capital thing. The 
 end has just gone ashore in two boats, three out 
 of four wires good. Thus ends our first expe- 
 dition. By some odd chance a Tunes of June 
 the 7th has found its way on board through the 
 agency of a wretched old peasant who watches 
 the end of the line here. A long account of 
 breakages in the Atlantic trial trip. To-night 
 we grapple for the heavy cable, eight tons to 
 the mile. I long to have a tug at him ; he may 
 puzzle me, and though misfortunes or rather 
 difficulties are a bore at the time, life when work- 
 ing with cables is tame without them. 
 
 ' 2 P.M. Hurrah, he is hooked, the big fellow, 
 almost at the first cast. He hangs under our 
 bows looking so huge and imposing that I could 
 find it in my heart to be afraid of him. 
 
 'June 17. 
 
 1 We went to a little bay called Chia, where a 
 fresh-water stream falls into the sea, and took in 
 water. This is rather a long operation, so I 
 went a walk up the valley with Mr. Liddell.
 
 In Chia Bay. 149 
 
 The coast here consists of rocky mountains 800 
 to 1,000 feet high covered with shrubs of a 
 brilliant green. On landing our first amuse- 
 ment was watching the hundreds of large fish 
 who lazily swam in shoals about the river ; the 
 big canes on the further side hold numberless 
 tortoises, we are told, but see none, for just now 
 they prefer taking a siesta. A little further on, 
 and what is this with large pink flowers in such 
 abundance? the oleander in full flower. At 
 first I fear to pluck them, thinking they must 
 be cultivated and valuable ; but soon the banks 
 show a long line of thick tall shrubs, one mass of 
 glorious pink and green. Set these in a little val- 
 ley, framed by mountains whose rocks gleam out 
 blue and purple colours such as pre-Raphaelites 
 only dare attempt, shining out hard and weird- 
 like amongst the clumps of castor-oil plants, 
 oistus, arbor vitae and many other evergreens, 
 whose names, alas ! I know not ; the cistus is 
 brown now, the rest all deep or brilliant green. 
 Large herds of cattle browse on the baked de- 
 posit at the foot of these large crags. One or 
 two half-savage herdsmen in sheepskin kilts, &c., 
 ask for cigars ; partridges whirr up on either
 
 150 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 side of us ; pigeons coo and nightingales sing 
 amongst the blooming oleander. We get six 
 sheep and many fowls, too, from the priest of 
 the small village ; and then run back to Spar- 
 tivento and make preparations for the morning. 
 
 'June 18. 
 
 ' The big cable is stubborn and will not be- 
 have like his smaller brother. The gear em- 
 ployed to take him off the drum is not strong 
 enough ; he gets slack on the drum and plays 
 the mischief. Luckily for my own conscience, 
 the gear I had wanted was negatived by Mr. 
 Newall. Mr. Liddell does not exactly blame 
 me, but he says we might have had a silver pul- 
 ley cheaper than the cost of this delay. He has 
 telegraphed for more men to Cagliari, to try to 
 pull the cable off the drum into the hold, by 
 hand. I look as comfortable as I can, but feel 
 as if people were blaming me. I am trying my 
 best to get something rigged which may help 
 us ; I wanted a little difficulty, and feel much 
 better. The short length we have picked up 
 was covered at places with beautiful sprays of 
 coral, twisted and twined with shells of those
 
 Paying-in the Big Cable. 151 
 
 small, fairy animals we saw in the aquarium at 
 home; poor little things, they died at once, 
 with their little bells and delicate bright tints. 
 
 ' 12 o clock. Hurrah, victory! for the present 
 anyhow. Whilst in our first dejection, I thought 
 I saw a place where a flat roller would remedy 
 the whole misfortune ; but a flat roller at Cape 
 Spartivento, hard, easily unshipped, running 
 freely ! There was a grooved pulley used for 
 the paying-out machinery with a spindle wheel, 
 which might suit me. I filled him up with 
 tarry spunyarn, nailed sheet copper round him, 
 bent some parts in the fire ; and we are paying- 
 in without more trouble now. You would think 
 some one would praise me ; no, no more praise 
 than blame before ; perhaps now they think bet- 
 ter of me, though. 
 
 4 10 P.M. We have gone on very comfortably 
 for nearly six miles. An hour and a half was 
 spent washing down ; for along with many col- 
 oured polypi, from corals, shells and insects, the 
 big cable brings up much mud and rust, and 
 makes a fishy smell by no means pleasant: the 
 bottom seems to teem with life. But now we 
 are startled by a most unpleasant, grinding noise ;
 
 152 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 which appeared at first to come from the large 
 low pulley, but when the engines stopped, the 
 noise continued ; and we now imagine it is 
 something slipping down the cable, and the 
 pulley but acts as sounding-board to the big 
 fiddle. Whether it is only an anchor or one of 
 the two other cables, we know not. We hope 
 it is not the cable just laid down. 
 
 'June 19. 
 
 4 10 A.M. All our alarm groundless, it would 
 appear: the odd noise ceased after a time, and 
 there was no mark sufficiently strong on the 
 large cable to warrant the suspicion that we had 
 cut another line through. I stopped up on the 
 look-out till three in the morning, which made 
 23 hours between sleep and sleep. One goes 
 dozing about, though, most of the day, for it is 
 only when something goes wrong that one has 
 to look alive. Hour after hour, I stand on the 
 forecastle-head, picking off little specimens of 
 polypi and coral, or lie on the saloon deck read- 
 ing back numbers of the Times till something 
 hitches, and then all is hurly-bur.ly once more. 
 There are awnings all along the ship, and a most 
 ancient, fish-like smell beneath.
 
 The Cables Cross. 153 
 
 ' I o clock. Suddenly a great strain in only 
 95 fathoms of water belts surging and general 
 dismay ; grapnels being thrown out in the hope 
 of finding what holds the cable. Should it 
 prove the young cable! We are apparently 
 crossing its path not the working one, but the 
 lost child ; Mr. Liddell would start the big one 
 first though it was laid first : he wanted to see 
 the job done, and meant to leave us to the 
 small one unaided by his presence. 
 
 '3.30. Grapnel caught something, lost it 
 again ; it left its marks on the prongs. Started 
 lifting gear again ; and after hauling in some 
 50 fathoms grunt, grunt, grunt we hear the 
 other cable slipping down our big one, playing 
 the selfsame tune we heard last night louder, 
 however. 
 
 ' 10 P.M. The pull on the deck engines be- 
 came harder and harder. I got steam up in a 
 boiler on deck, and another little engine starts 
 hauling at the grapnel. I wonder if there ever 
 was such a scene of confusion : Mr. Liddell and 
 W and the captain all giving orders contra- 
 dictory, &c., on the forecastle ; D , the fore- 
 man of our men, the mates, &c., following the
 
 1 54 Memoir of Fleeming Jen kin. 
 
 example of our superiors; the ship's engine and 
 boilers below, a 5o-horse engine on deck, a 
 boiler 14 feet long on deck beside it, a little 
 steam winch tearing round ; a dozen Italians (20 
 have come to relieve our hands, the men we 
 telegraphed for to Cagliari) hauling at the rope ; 
 wiremen, sailors, in the crevices left by ropes 
 and machinery ; everything that could swear 
 swearing I found myself swearing like a 
 trooper at last. We got the unknown difficulty 
 within ten fathoms of the surface; but then the 
 forecastle got frightened that, if it was the small 
 cable which we had got hold of, we should cer- 
 tainly break it by continuing the tremendous 
 and increasing strain. So at last Mr. Liddell 
 decided to stop ; cut the big cable, buoying its 
 end ; go back to our pleasant watering-place at 
 Chia, take more water and start lifting the small 
 cable. The end of the large one has even now 
 regained its sandy bed ; and three buoys one 
 to grapnel foul of the supposed small cable, two 
 to the big cable are dipping about on the sur- 
 face. One more a flag-buoy will soon follow, 
 and thert straight for shore.
 
 The Small Cable. 155 
 
 ' June 20. 
 
 ' It is an ill-wind, &c. I have an unexpected 
 opportunity of forwarding this engineering let- 
 ter; for the craft which brought out pur Italian 
 sailors must return to Cagliari to-night, as the 
 little cable will take us nearly to Galita, and the 
 Italian skipper could hardly find his way from 
 thence. To-day Sunday not much rest. Mr. 
 Liddell is at Spartivento telegraphing. We are 
 at Chia, and shall shortly go to help our boat's 
 crew in getting the small cable on board. We 
 dropped them some time since in order that they 
 might dig it out of the sand as far as possible. 
 
 1 June 21. 
 
 ' Yesterday Sunday as it was all hands were 
 kept at work all day, coaling, watering, and mak- 
 ing a futile attempt to pull the cable from the 
 shore on board through the sand. This attempt 
 was rather silly after the experience we had 
 gained at Cape Spartivento. This morning we 
 grappled, hooked the cable at once, and have 
 made an excellent start. Though I have called 
 this the small cable, it is much larger than the 
 Bona one. Here comes a break down and a 
 bad one.
 
 156 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 'June 22. 
 
 ' We got over it, however ; but it is a warning 
 to me that my future difficulties will arise from 
 parts wearing out. Yesterday the cable was 
 often a lovely sight, coming out of the water 
 one large incrustation of delicate, net-like corals 
 and long, white curling shells. No portion of 
 the dirty black wires was visible ; instead we 
 had a garland of soft pink with little scarlet 
 sprays and white enamel intermixed. All was 
 fragile, however, and could hardly be secured in 
 safety ; and inexorable iron crushed the tender 
 leaves to atoms. This morning at the end of 
 my watch, about 4 o'clock, we came to the 
 buoys, proving our anticipations right concern- 
 ing the crossing of the cables. I went to bed 
 for four hours, and on getting up, found a sad 
 mess. A tangle of the six-wire cable hung to 
 the grapnel which had been left buoyed, and the 
 small cable had parted and is lost for the present. 
 Our hauling of the other day must have done 
 the mischief. 
 
 'June 23. 
 
 ' We contrived to get the two ends of the 
 large cable and to pick the short end up. The
 
 Mode of Dredging. 157 
 
 long end, leading us seaward, was next put round 
 the drum and a mile of it picked up ; but then, 
 fearing another tangle, the end was cut and 
 buoyed, and we returned to grapple for the 
 three-wire cable. All this is very tiresome for 
 me. The buoying and dredging are managed 
 entirely by W , who has had much experi- 
 ence in this sort of thing ; so I have not enough 
 to do and get very homesick. At noon the 
 wind freshened and the sea rose so high that we 
 had to run for land and are once more this even, 
 ing anchored at Chia. 
 
 June 24. 
 
 ' The whole day spent in dredging without 
 success. This operation consists in allowing the 
 ship to drift slowly across the line where you 
 expect the cable to be, while at the end of a 
 long rope, fast either to the bow or stern, a 
 grapnel drags along the ground. This grapnel 
 is a small anchor, made like four pot-hooks tied 
 back to back. When the rope gets taut, the 
 ship is stopped and the grapnel hauled up to 
 the surface in the hopes of finding the cable on 
 its prongs. I am much discontented with my- 
 self for idly lounging about and reading West-
 
 158 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 ward Ho for the second time, instead of taking 
 to electricity or picking up nautical information. 
 I am uncommonly idle. The sea is not quite 
 so rough, but the weather is squally and the rain 
 comes in frequent gusts. 
 
 June 25. 
 
 ' To-day about I o'clock we hooked the three- 
 wire cable, buoyed the long sea end, and picked 
 up the short [or shore] end. Now it is dark and 
 we must wait for morning before lifting the 
 buoy we lowered to-day and proceeding sea- 
 wards. The depth of water here is about 600 
 feet, the height of a respectable English hill ; 
 our fishing line was about a quarter of a mile 
 long. It blows pretty fresh, and there is a great 
 deal of sea. 
 
 26th. 
 
 ' This morning it came on to blow so heavily 
 that it was impossible to take up our buoy. 
 The Elba recommenced rolling in true Baltic 
 style and towards noon we ran for land. 
 
 '27th, Sunday. 
 
 ' This morning was a beautiful calm. We 
 reached the buoys at about 4.30 and com-
 
 Kinks. 159 
 
 menced picking up at 6.30. Shortly a new 
 cause of anxiety arose. Kinks came up in 
 great quantities, about thirty in the hour. To 
 have a true conception of a kink, you must see 
 one : it is a loop drawn tight, all the wires get 
 twisted and the gutta-percha inside pushed out. 
 These much diminish the value of the cable, as 
 they must all be cut out, the gutta-percha made 
 good, and the cable spliced. They arise from 
 the cable having been badly laid down so that 
 it forms folds and tails at the bottom of the sea. 
 These kinks have another disadvantage : they 
 weaken the cable very much. At about six 
 o'clock [P.M.] we had some twelve miles lifted, 
 when I went to the bows ; the kinks were ex- 
 ceedingly tight and were giving way in a most 
 alarming manner. I got a cage rigged up to 
 prevent the end (if it broke) from hurting any- 
 one, and sat down on the bowsprit, thinking I 
 should describe kinks to Annie : suddenly I 
 saw a great many coils and kinks altogether at 
 the surface. I jumped to the gutta-percha pipe, 
 by blowing through which the signal is given to 
 stop the engine. I blow, but the engine does 
 not stop ; again no answer : the coils and kinks
 
 160 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 jam in the bows and I rush aft shouting stop , 
 Too late : the cable had parted and must lie in 
 peace at the bottom. Someone had pulled the 
 gutta-percha tube across a bare part of the steam 
 pipe and melted it. It had been used hundreds 
 of times in the last few days and gave no symp- 
 toms of failing. I believe the cable must have 
 gone at any rate ; however, since it went in my 
 watch and since I might have secured the tub- 
 ing more strongly, I feel rather sad 
 
 4 June 28. 
 
 ' Since I could not go to Annie I took down 
 Shakespeare, and by the time I had finished 
 Antony and Cleopatra, read the second half of 
 Troilus and got some way in Coriolamis, I felt 
 it was childish to regret the accident had hap- 
 pened in my watch, and moreover I felt myself 
 not much to blame in the tubing matter it had 
 been torn down, it had not fallen down ; so I 
 went to bed, and slept without fretting, and 
 woke this morning in the same good mood 
 for which thank you and our friend Shake- 
 speare. I am happy to say Mr. Liddell said 
 the loss of the cable did not much matter ;
 
 More Kinks. 161 
 
 though this would have been no consolation 
 had I felt myself to blame. This morning we 
 have grappled for and found another length of 
 small cable which Mr. dropped in 100 fath- 
 oms of water. If this also gets full of kinks, we 
 shall probably have to cut it after 10 miles or 
 so, or more probably still it will part of its own 
 free will or weight. 
 
 ' 10 P.M. This second length of three-wire 
 cable soon got into the same condition as its 
 fellow i. e. came up twenty kinks an hour 
 and after seven miles were in, parted on the 
 pulley over the bows at one of the said kinks ; 
 during my watch again, but this time no earthly 
 power could have saved it. I had taken all 
 manner of precautions to prevent the end do- 
 ing any damage when the smash came, for come 
 I knew it must. We now return to the six-wire 
 cable. As I sat watching the cable to-night, 
 large phosphorescent globes kept rolling from 
 it and fading in the black water. 
 
 ' 2gth. 
 
 1 To-day we returned to the buoy we had left 
 at the end of the six-wire cable, and after much 
 trouble from a series of tangles, got a fair start
 
 1 62 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 at noon. You will easily believe a tangle of iron 
 rope inch and a half diameter is not easy to un- 
 ravel, especially with a ton or so hanging to 
 the ends. It is now eight o'clock and we have 
 about six and a half miles safe : it becomes very 
 exciting, however, for the kinks are coming fast 
 and furious. 
 
 'Julys. 
 
 ' Twenty-eight miles safe in the hold. The 
 ship is now so deep, that the men are to be 
 turned out of their aft hold, and the remainder 
 coiled there ; so the good Elbas nose need not 
 burrow too far into the waves. There can only 
 be about 10 or 12 miles more, but these weigh 
 80 or 100 tons. 
 
 'July s- 
 
 ' Our first mate was much hurt in securing a 
 buoy on the evening of the 2nd. As interpre- 
 ter [with the Italians] I am useful in all these 
 cases ; but for no fortune would I be a doctor 
 to witness these scenes continually. Pain is a 
 terrible thing. Our work is done : the whole of 
 the six-wire cable has been recovered ; only a 
 small part of the three-wire, but that wire was 
 bad and, owing to its twisted state, the value
 
 The Greek Isles. 163 
 
 small. We may therefore be said to have been 
 very successful.' 
 
 II. 
 
 I have given this cruise nearly in full. From 
 the notes, unhappily imperfect, of two others, I 
 will take only specimens ; for in all there are 
 features of similarity and it is possible to have 
 too much even of submarine telegraphy and the 
 romance of engineering. And first from the 
 cruise of 1859 m * ne Greek Islands and to Al- 
 exandria, take a few traits, incidents and pic- 
 tures. 
 
 ' May 10, 1859. 
 
 ' We had a fair wind and we did very well, 
 seeing a little bit of Cerig or Cythera, and lots 
 of turtle-doves wandering about over the sea 
 and perching, tired and timid, in the rigging of 
 our little craft. Then Falconera, Antimilo, and 
 Milo, topped with huge white clouds, barren, 
 deserted, rising bold and mysterious from the 
 blue, chafing sea; Argentiera, Siphano, Sca- 
 pho, Paros, Antiparos, and late at night Syra it- 
 self. Adam Bede in one hand, a sketch-book in
 
 164 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 the other, lying on rugs under an awning, I en- 
 joyed a very pleasant day. 
 
 May 14. 
 
 'Syra is semi-eastern. The pavement, huge 
 shapeless blocks sloping to a central gutter; 
 from this bare two-storied houses, sometimes 
 plaster many coloured, sometimes rough-hewn 
 marble, rise, dirty and ill-finished to straight, 
 plain, flat roofs; shops guiltless of windows, 
 with signs in Greek letters; dogs, Greeks in 
 blue, baggy, Zouave breeches and a fez, a few 
 narghilehs and a sprinkling of the ordinary con- 
 tinental shopboys. In the evening I tried one 
 more walk in Syra with A , but in vain en- 
 deavoured to amuse myself or to spend money ; 
 the first effort resulting in singing Doodah to a 
 passing Greek or two, the second in spending, 
 no, in making A spend, threepence on cof- 
 fee for three. 
 
 ' May 16. 
 
 ' On coming on deck, I found we were at an- 
 chor in Canea bay, and saw one of the most 
 lovely sights man could witness. Far on either 
 hand stretch bold mountain capes, Spada and 
 Maleka, tender in colour, bold in outline ; rich
 
 In Canea. 165 
 
 sunny levels lie beneath them, framed by the 
 azure sea. Right in front, a dark brown for- 
 tress girdles white mosques and minarets. Rich 
 and green, our mountain capes here join to form 
 a setting for the town, in whose dark walls 
 still darker open a dozen high-arched caves in 
 which the huge Venetian galleys used to lie in 
 wait. High above all, higher and higher yet, 
 up into the firmament, range after range of blue 
 and snow-capped mountains. I was bewildered 
 and amazed, having heard nothing of this great 
 beauty. The town when entered is quite east- 
 ern. The streets are formed of open stalls un- 
 der the first story, in which squat tailors, cooks, 
 sherbet vendors and the like, busy at their work 
 or smoking narghilehs. Cloths stretched from 
 house to house keep out the sun. Mules rattle 
 through the crowd ; curs yelp between your legs ; 
 negroes are as hideous and bright clothed as 
 usual ; grave Turks with long chibouques con- 
 tinue to march solemnly without breaking 
 them ; a little Arab in one dirty rag pokes fun 
 at two splendid little Turks with brilliant fezzes ; 
 wiry mountaineers in dirty, full, white kilts, 
 shouldering long guns and one hand on their
 
 1 66 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 pistols, stalk untamed past a dozen Turkish 
 soldiers, who look sheepish and brutal in worn 
 cloth jacket and cotton trousers. A headless, 
 wingless lion of St. Mark still stands upon a 
 gate, and has left the mark of his strong clutch. 
 Of ancient times when Crete was Crete, not a 
 trace remains ; save perhaps in the full, well-cut 
 nostril and firm tread of that mountaineer, and 
 I suspect that even his sires were Albanians, 
 mere outer barbarians. 
 
 'May 17. 
 
 ' I spent the day at the little station where 
 the cable was landed, which has apparently been 
 first a Venetian monastery and then a Turkish 
 mosque. At any rate the big dome is very cool, 
 and the little ones hold [our electric] batteries 
 capitally. A handsome young Bashibazouk 
 guards it, and a still handsomer mountaineer 
 is the servant; so I draw them and the monas- 
 tery and the hill, till I'm black in the face with 
 heat and come on board to hear the Canea cable 
 is still bad. 
 
 ' May 23. 
 
 1 We arrived in the morning at the east end 
 of Candia, and had a glorious scramble over
 
 The '.Elba' Aground. 167 
 
 the mountains which seem built of adamant, 
 Time has worn away the softer portions of the 
 rock, only leaving sharp jagged edges of steel. 
 Sea eagles soaring above our heads ; old tanks, 
 ruins, and desolation at our feet. The ancient 
 Arsinoe stood here ; a few blocks of marble 
 with the cross attest the presence of Venetian 
 Christians ; but now the desolation of deso- 
 lations. Mr. Liddell and I separated from the 
 rest, and when we had found a sure bay for the 
 cable, had a tremendous lively scramble back to 
 the boat. These are the bits of our life which 
 I enjoy, which have some poetry, some gran- 
 deur in them. 
 
 ' May 29 (?). 
 
 ' Yesterday we ran round to the new harbour 
 [of Alexandria], landed the shore end of the 
 cable close to Cleopatra's bath, and made a 
 very satisfactory start about one in the after- 
 noon. We had scarcely gone 200 yards when I 
 noticed that the cable ceased to run out, and I 
 wondered why the ship had stopped. People 
 ran aft to tell me not to put such a strain on 
 the cable; I answered indignantly that there 
 was no strain ; and suddenly it broke on every
 
 io8 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 one in the ship at once that we were aground 
 Here was a nice mess. A violent scitocco blew 
 from the land; making one's skin feel as if it 
 belonged to some one else and didn't fit, making 
 the horizon dim and yellow with fine sand, op- 
 pressing every sense and raising the thermom- 
 eter 20 degrees in an hour, but making calm 
 water round us which enabled the ship to lie 
 for the time in safety. The wind might change 
 at any moment, since the scirocco was only ac- 
 cidental ; and at the first wave from seaward 
 bump would go the poor ship, and there would 
 [might] be an end of our voyage. The captain, 
 without waiting to sound, began to make an 
 effort to put the ship over what was supposed to 
 be a sandbank ; but by the time soundings were 
 made, this was found to be impossible, and he 
 had only been jamming the poor Elba faster on 
 a rock. Now every effort was made to get her 
 astern, an anchor taken out, a rope brought to 
 a winch I had for the cable, and the engines 
 backed ; but all in vain. A small Turkish Gov- 
 ernment steamer, which is to be our consort, 
 came to our assistance, but of course very slowly, 
 and much time was occupied before we could
 
 The 'Elba' still Aground. 169 
 
 get a hawser to her. I could do no good after 
 having made a chart of the soundings round 
 the ship, and went at last on to the bridge to 
 sketch the scene. But at that moment the 
 strain from the winch and a jerk from the Turk- 
 ish steamer got off the boat, after we had been 
 some hours aground. The carpenter reported 
 that she had made only two inches of water in 
 one compartment ; the cable was still uninjured 
 astern, and our spirits rose ; when, will you be- 
 lieve it ? after going a short distance astern, the 
 pilot ran us once more fast aground on what 
 seemed to me nearly the same spot. The very 
 same scene was gone through as on the first oc- 
 casion, and dark came on whilst the wind shift- 
 ed, and we were still aground. Dinner was 
 served up, but poor Mr. Liddell could eat very 
 little; and bump, bump, grind, grind, went the 
 ship fifteen or sixteen times as we sat at dinner. 
 The slight sea, however, did enable us to bump 
 off. This morning we appear not to have suf- 
 fered in any way ; but a sea is rolling in, which 
 a few hours ago would have settled the poor old 
 Elba.
 
 1 70 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 'June . 
 
 ' The Alexandria cable has again failed ; after 
 paying out two-thirds of the distance success- 
 fully, an unlucky touch in deep water snapped 
 the line. Luckily the accident occurred in Mr. 
 Liddell's watch. Though personally it may not 
 really concern me, the accident weighs like a 
 personal misfortune. Still I am glad I was pres- 
 ent : a failure is probably more instructive than 
 a success ; and this experience may enable us tc 
 avoid misfortune in still greater undertakings. 
 
 ' June . 
 
 ' We left Syra the morning after our arrival 
 on Saturday the 4th. This we did (first) be- 
 cause we were in a hurry to do something and 
 (second) because, coming from Alexandria, we 
 had four days' quarantine to perform. We were 
 all mustered along the side while the doctor 
 counted us ; the letters were popped into a lit- 
 tle tin box and taken away to be smoked ; the 
 guardians put on board to see that we held no 
 communication with the shore without them 
 we should still have had four more days' quar. 
 antine ; and with twelve Greek sailors besides,
 
 The Canea Cable. 171 
 
 we started merrily enough picking up the Canea 
 cable. ... To our utter dismay, the yarn cov- 
 ering began to come up quite decayed, and the 
 cable, which when laid should have borne half 
 a ton, was now in danger of snapping with a 
 tenth part of that strain. We went as slow as 
 possible in fear of a break at every instant. My 
 watch was from eight to twelve in the morning, 
 and during that time we had barely secured 
 three miles of cable. Once it broke inside the 
 ship, but I seized hold of it in time the weight 
 being hardly anything and the line for the 
 nonce was saved. Regular nooses were then 
 planted inboard with men to draw them taut, 
 
 should the cable break inboard. A , who 
 
 should have relieved me, was unwell, so I had 
 to continue my look-out ; and about one o'clock 
 the line again parted, but was again caught in 
 the last noose, with about four inches to spare. 
 Five minutes afterwards it again parted and 
 was yet once more caught. Mr. Liddell (whom 
 I had called) could stand this no longer ; so we 
 buoyed the line and ran into a bay in Siphano, 
 waiting for calm weather, though I was by no 
 means of opinion that the slight sea and wind
 
 172 Memoir of Flceming Jenkin. 
 
 had been the cause of our failures. All next 
 day (Monday) we lay off Siphano, amusing our- 
 selves on shore with fowling-pieces and navy 
 revolvers. I need not say we killed nothing ; 
 and luckily we did not wound any of ourselves. 
 A guardiano accompanied us, his functions being 
 limited to preventing actual contact with the 
 natives, for they might come as near and talk 
 as much as they pleased. These isles of Greece 
 are sad, interesting places. They are not really 
 barren all over, but they are quite destitute of 
 verdure ; and tufts of thyme, wild mastic or 
 mint, though they sound well, are not nearly 
 so pretty as grass. Many little churches, glit- 
 tering white, dot the islands ; most of them, I 
 believe, abandoned during the whole year 
 with the exception of one day sacred to their 
 patron saint. The villages are mean, but the 
 inhabitants do not look wretched and the men 
 are good sailors. There is something in this 
 Greek race yet ; they will become a powerful 
 Levantine nation in the course of time. What 
 a lovely moonlight evening that was ! the bar- 
 ren island cutting the clear sky with fantastic 
 outline, marble cliffs on either hand fairly
 
 A Pull at the Oars. 173 
 
 gleaming over the calm sea. Next day, the 
 wind still continuing, I proposed a boating ex- 
 cursion and decoyed A , L , and S 
 
 into accompanying me. We took the little gig, 
 and sailed away merrily enough round a point 
 to a beautiful white bay, flanked with two glis- 
 tening little churches, fronted by beautiful dis- 
 tant islands ; when suddenly, to my horror, I 
 discovered the Elba steaming full speed out from 
 the island. Of course we steered after her; 
 but the wind that instant ceased, and we were 
 left in a dead calm. There was nothing for it 
 but to unship the mast, get out the oars and 
 pull. The ship was nearly certain to stop at 
 the buoy ; and I wanted to learn how to take an 
 oar, so here was a chance with a vengeance ! 
 
 L steered, and we three pulled a broiling 
 
 pull it was about half way across to Palikandro 
 still we did come in, pulling an uncommon 
 good stroke, and I had learned to hang on my 
 
 oar. L had pressed me to let him take 
 
 my place ; but though I was very tired at the 
 end of the first quarter of an hour, and then 
 every successive half hour, I would not give in. 
 I nearly paid dear for my obstinacy, however ;
 
 1 74 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 for in the evening I had alternate fits of shiver- 
 ing and burning.' 
 
 III. 
 
 The next extracts, and I am sorry to say the 
 last, are from Fleeming's letters of 1860, when 
 he was back at Bona and Spartivento and for 
 the first time at the head of an expedition. 
 Unhappily these letters are not only the last, 
 but the series is quite imperfect ; and this is 
 the more to be lamented as he had now begun 
 to use a pen more skilfully, and in the following 
 notes there is at times a touch of real distinc- 
 tion in the manner. 
 
 ' Cagliari : October 5, 1860. 
 
 ' All Tuesday I spent examining what was on 
 board the Elba, and trying to start the repairs 
 of the Spartivento land line, which has been 
 entirely neglected, and no wonder, for no one 
 has been paid for three months, no, not even 
 the poor guards who have to keep themselves, 
 their horses and their families, on their pay. 
 Wednesday morning, I started for Spartivento 
 and got there in time to try a good many ex- 
 periments. Spartivento looks more wild and
 
 Spartivento Again. 1 75 
 
 savage than ever, but is not without a strange 
 deadly beauty : the hills covered with bushes of 
 a metallic green with coppery patches of soil in 
 between ; the valleys filled with dry salt mud 
 and a little stagnant water; where that very 
 morning the deer had drunk, where herons, cur- 
 lews, and other fowl abound, and where, alas ! 
 malaria is breeding with this rain. (No fear for 
 those who do not sleep on shore.) A little iron 
 hut had been placed there since 1858; but the 
 windows had been carried off, the door broken 
 down, the roof pierced all over. In it, we sat 
 to make experiments ; and how it recalled 
 Birkenhead ! There was Thomson, there was 
 my testing board, the strings of gutta-percha ; 
 
 Harry P even, battering with the batteries ; 
 
 but where was my darling Annie?. Whilst I 
 sat feet in sand, with Harry alone inside the hut 
 mats, coats, and wood to darken the window 
 the others visited the murderous old friar, 
 who is of the order of Scaloppi, and for whom I 
 brought a letter from his superior, ordering him 
 to pay us attention ; but he was away from 
 home, gone to Cagliari in a boat with the pro- 
 duce of the farm belonging to his convent.
 
 i 76 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 Then they visited the tower of Chia, but could 
 not get in because the door is thirty feet off the 
 ground ; so they came back and pitched a mag- 
 nificent tent which I brought from the Bahiana 
 a long time ago and where they will live (if I 
 mistake not) in preference to the friar's, or the 
 
 owl- and bat-haunted tower. MM. T and 
 
 S will be left there : T , an intelligent, 
 
 hard-working Frenchman, with whom I am well 
 pleased ; he can speak English and Italian well, 
 
 and has been two years at Genoa. S is a 
 
 French German with a face like an ancient Gaul, 
 who has been sergeant-major in the French line 
 and who is, I see, a great, big, muscular faineant. 
 We left the tent pitched and some stores in 
 charge of a guide, and ran back to Cagliari. 
 
 'Certainly, being at the head of things is 
 pleasanter than being subordinate. We all 
 agree very well ; and I have made the testing 
 office into a kind of private room where I can 
 come and write to you undisturbed, surrounded 
 by my dear, bright brass things which all of 
 them remind me of our nights at Birkenhead. 
 Then I can work here, too, and try lots of ex- 
 periments ; you know how I like that ! and
 
 At Cagliari. 177 
 
 now and then I read Shakespeare principally. 
 Thank you so much for making me bring him : 
 I think I must get a pocket edition of Hamlet 
 and Henry the Fifth, so as never to be without 
 them. 
 
 1 Cagliari : October 7. 
 
 4 [The town was full ?] . . . of red-shirted 
 English Garibaldini. A very fine looking set 
 of fellows they are, too : the officers rather 
 raffish, but with medals Crimean and Indian ; 
 the men a very sturdy set, with many lads of 
 good birth I should say. They still wait their 
 consort the Emperor and will, I fear, be too late 
 to do anything. I meant to have called on 
 them, but they are all gone into barracks some 
 way from the town, and I have been much too 
 busy to go far. 
 
 ' The view from the ramparts was very strange 
 and beautiful. Cagliari rises on a very steep 
 rock, at the mouth of a wide plain circled by 
 large hills and three-quarters filled with lagoons ; 
 it looks, therefore, like an old island citadel. 
 Large heaps of salt mark the border between 
 the sea and the lagoons ; thousands of flamingoes 
 whiten the centre of the huge shallow marsh ;
 
 i/8 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 hawks hover and scream among the trees under 
 the high mouldering battlements. A little lower 
 down, the band played. Men and ladies bowed 
 and pranced, the costumes posed, church bells 
 tinkled, processions processed, the sun set be- 
 hind thick clouds capping the hills; I pondered 
 on you and enjoyed it all. 
 
 'Decidedly I prefer being master to being 
 man: boats at all hours, stewards flying for 
 marmalade, captain enquiring when ship is to 
 sail, clerks to copy my writing, the boat to steer 
 when we go out I have run her nose on several 
 times ; decidedly, I begin to feel quite a little 
 king. Confound the cable, though ! I shall 
 never be able to repair it. 
 
 4 Bona : October 14. 
 
 ' We left Cagliari at 4.30 on the Qth and soon 
 got to Spartivento. I repeated some of my ex- 
 periments, but found Thomson, who was to 
 have been my grand stand-by, would not work 
 on that day in the wretched little hut. Even if 
 the windows and door had been put in, the wind 
 which was very high made the lamp flicker about 
 and blew it out ; so I sent on board and got old 
 sails, and fairly wrapped the hut up in them ; and
 
 The Camp at Spartivento. 179 
 
 then we were as snug as could be, and I left the 
 hut in glorious condition with a nice little stove 
 in it. The tent which should have been forth- 
 coming from the curb's for the guards, had gone 
 to Cagliari ; but I found another, [a] green, 
 Turkish tent, in the Elba and soon had him up. 
 The square tent left on the last occasion was 
 standing all right and tight in spite of wind and 
 rain. We landed provisions, two beds, plates, 
 knives, forks, candles, cooking utensils, and were 
 ready for a start at 6 P.M. ; but the wind mean- 
 while had come on to blow at such a rate that 
 
 I thought better of it, and we stopped. T 
 
 and S slept ashore, however, to see how they 
 
 liked it ; at least they tried to sleep, for S 
 
 the ancient sergeant-major had a toothache, and 
 
 T thought the tent was coming down every 
 
 minute. Next morning they could only com- 
 plain of sand and a leaky coffee-pot, so I leave 
 them with a good conscience. The little en- 
 campment looked quite picturesque : the green 
 round tent, the square white tent and the hut all 
 wrapped up in sails, on a sand hill, looking on 
 the sea and masking those confounded marshes 
 at the back. One would have thought the Cag-
 
 1 80 Memoir of Fleeming. Jenkin. 
 
 liaritans were in a conspiracy to frighten the 
 two poor fellows, who (I believe) will be safe 
 enough if they do not go into the marshes after 
 
 nightfall. S brought a little dog to amuse 
 
 them, such a jolly, ugly little cur without a tail, 
 but full of fun ; he will be better than quinine. 
 
 ' The wind drove a barque, which had an- 
 chored near us for shelter, out to sea. We 
 started, however, at 2 P.M., and had a quick pas- 
 sage but a very rough one, getting to Bona by 
 daylight [on the nth]. Such a place as this is 
 for getting anything done ! The health boat 
 
 went away from us at 7.30 with W on board ; 
 
 and we heard nothing of them till 9.30, when 
 
 W came back with two fat Frenchmen who 
 
 are to look on on the part of the Government. 
 They are exactly alike : only one has four bands 
 and the other three round his cap, and so I 
 know them. Then I sent a boat round to Fort 
 Genois [Fort Geneva of 1858], where the cable 
 is landed, with all sorts of things and directions, 
 whilst I went ashore to see about coals and a 
 room at the fort. We hunted people in the 
 little square in their shops and offices, but only 
 found them in cafes. One amiable gentleman
 
 Waiting for Coals. 181 
 
 wasn't up at 9.30, was out at 10, and as soon as 
 he came back the servant said he would go to 
 bed and not get up till 3 : he came, however, to 
 find us at a cafe", and said that, on the contrary, 
 two days in the week he did not do so ! Then 
 my two fat friends must have their breakfast 
 after their " something " at a cafe" ; and all the 
 shops shut from 10 to 2 ; and the post does not 
 open till 12 ; and there was a road to Fort 
 Genois, only a bridge had been carried away, &c. 
 At last I got off, and we rowed round to Fort 
 Genois, where my men had put up a capital 
 gipsy tent with sails, and there was my big 
 board and Thomson's number 5 in great glory. 
 I soon came to the conclusion there was a 
 break. Two of my faithful Cagliaritans slept 
 all night in the little tent, to guard it and my 
 precious instruments ; and the sea, which was 
 rather rough, silenced my Frenchmen. 
 
 * Next day I went on with my experiments, 
 whilst a boat grappled for the cable a little way 
 from shore and buoyed it where the Elba could 
 get hold. I brought all back to the Elba, tried 
 my machinery and was all ready for a start next 
 morning. But the wretched coal had not come
 
 1 82 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 yet ; Government permission from Algiers to be 
 got ; lighters, men, baskets, and I know not what 
 forms to be got or got through and everybody 
 asleep ! Coals or no coals, I was determined to 
 start next morning; and start we did at four in 
 the morning, picked up the buoy with our deck 
 engine, popped the cable across a boat, tested 
 the wires to make sure the fault was not behind 
 us, and started picking up at 11. Everything 
 worked admirably, and about 2 P.M., in came the 
 fault. There is no doubt the cable was broken 
 by coral fishers ; twice they have had it up to 
 their own knowledge. 
 
 ' Many men have been ashore to-day and 
 have come back tipsy, and the whole ship is in 
 3 state of quarrel from top to bottom, and they 
 will gossip just within my hearing. And we 
 have had, moreover, three French gentlemen and 
 a French lady to dinner, and I had to act host 
 and try to manage the mixtures to their taste. 
 The good-natured little Frenchwoman was most 
 amusing ; when I asked her if she would have 
 some apple tart " Mon Dieu" with heroic res- 
 ignation, "j'e veux bien "; or a little plombod- 
 ding " Mais ce que vous voudrez, Monsieur ! "
 
 An Eventful Day. 183 
 
 ' S.S. Elba, somewhere not far from Bona : Oct. 19. 
 'Yesterday [after three previous days of use- 
 less grappling] was destined to be very eventful. 
 We began dredging at daybreak and hooked at 
 once every time in rocks ; but by capital luck, 
 just as we were deciding it was no use to con- 
 tinue in that place, we hooked the cable : up 
 it came, was tested, and lo ! another complete 
 break, a quarter of a mile off. I was amazed at 
 my own tranquillity under these disappoint- 
 ments, but I was not really half so fussy as 
 about getting a cab. Well, there was nothing 
 for it but grappling again, and, as you may im- 
 agine, we were getting about six miles from 
 shore. But the water did not deepen rapidly ; 
 we seemed to be on the crest of a kind of sub- 
 marine mountain in prolongation of Cape de 
 Gonde, and pretty havoc we must have made 
 with the crags. What rocks we did hook ! No 
 sooner was the grapnel down than the ship was 
 anchored ; and then came such a business : ship's 
 engines going, deck engine thundering, belt 
 slipping, fear of breaking ropes : actually break- 
 ing grapnels. It was always an hour or more 
 before we could get the grapnel down again.
 
 184 Memoir of F teeming Jen kin. 
 
 At last we had to give up the place, though we 
 knew we were close to the cable, and go further 
 to sea in much deeper water ; to my great fear, 
 as I knew the cable was much eaten away and 
 would stand but little strain. Well, we hooked 
 the cable first dredge this time, and pulled it 
 slowly and gently to the top, with much trepi- 
 dation. Was it the cable ? was there any weight 
 on? it was evidently too small. Imagine my 
 dismay when the cable did come up, but hang- 
 ing loosely, thus 
 
 instead of taut, thus 
 
 showing certain signs of a break close by. For 
 a moment I felt provoked, as I thought, " Here 
 we are in deep water, and the cable will not 
 stand lifting!" I tested at once, and by the 
 very first wire found it had broken towards
 
 Cable Fishing. 185 
 
 shore and was good towards sea. This was of 
 course very pleasant ; but from that time to 
 this, though the wires test very well, not a sig- 
 nal has come from Spartivento. I got the cable 
 into a boat, and a gutta-percha line from the 
 ship to the boat, and we signalled away at a 
 great rate but no signs of life. The tests, how- 
 ever, make me pretty sure one wire at least is 
 good ; so I determined to lay down cable from 
 where we were to the shore, and go to Sparti- 
 vento to see what had happened there. I fear 
 my men are ill. The night was lovely, perfect- 
 ly calm ; so we lay close to the boat and signals 
 were continually sent, but with no result. This 
 morning I laid the cable down to Fort Genois 
 in style ; and now we are picking up odds and 
 ends of cable between the different breaks, and 
 getting our buoys on board, &c. To-morrow I 
 expect to leave for Spartivento.' 
 
 IV. 
 
 And now I am quite at an end of journal 
 keeping ; diaries and diary letters being things 
 of youth which Fleeming had at length out-
 
 1 86 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 grown. But one or two more fragments from 
 his correspondence may be taken, and first this 
 brief sketch of the laying of the Norderney ca- 
 ble ; mainly interesting as showing under what 
 defects of strength and in what extremities of 
 pain, this cheerful man must at times continue 
 to go about his work. 
 
 ' I slept on board 2gth September having ar- 
 ranged everything to start by daybreak from 
 where we lay in the roads: but at daybreak a 
 heavy mist hung over us so that nothing of land 
 or water could be seen. At midday it lifted 
 suddenly and away we went with perfect weath- 
 er, but could not find the buoys Forde left, that 
 evening. I saw the captain was not strong in 
 navigation, and took matters next day much 
 more into my own hands and before nine o'clock 
 found the buoys ; (the weather had been so fine 
 we had anchored in the open sea near Texel). 
 It took us till the evening to reach the buoys, 
 get the cable on board, test the first half, speak 
 
 to Lowestoft, make the splice, and start. H 
 
 had not finished his work at Norderney, so I 
 was alone on board for Reuter. Moreover the 
 buoys to guide us in our course were not placed,
 
 The Norderney Cable. 187 
 
 and the captain had very vague ideas about keep- 
 ing his course ; so I had to do a good deal, and 
 only lay down as I was for two hours in the night. 
 I managed to run the course perfectly. Every- 
 thing went well, and we found Norderney just 
 where we wanted it next afternoon, and if the 
 shore end had been laid, could have finished 
 there and then, October 1st. But when we got 
 to Norderney, we found the Caroline with shore 
 end lying apparently aground, and could not un- 
 derstand her signals ; so we had to anchor sud- 
 denly and I went off in a small boat with the 
 captain to the Caroline. It was cold by this 
 time, and my arm was rather stiff and I was 
 tired ; I hauled myself up on board the Caroline 
 
 by a rope and found H and two men on 
 
 board. All the rest were trying to get the shore 
 end on shore, but had failed and apparently had 
 stuck on shore, and the waves were getting up. 
 We had anchored in the right place and next 
 morning we hoped the shore end would be laid, 
 so we had only to go back. It was of course 
 still colder and quite night. I went to bed and 
 hoped to sleep, but, alas, the rheumatism got 
 into the joints and caused me terrible pain so
 
 1 88 Memoir of Fleeming Jen kin. 
 
 that I could not sleep. I bore it as long as I 
 could in order to disturb no one, for all were 
 tired ; but at last I could bear it no longer and 
 managed to wake the steward and got a mustard 
 poultice which took the pain from the shoulder; 
 but then the elbow got very bad, and I had to 
 call the second steward and get a second poul- 
 tice, and then it was daylight, and I felt very ill 
 and feverish. The sea was now rather rough 
 too rough rather for small boats, but luckily a 
 sort of thing called a scoot came out, and we 
 got on board her with some trouble, and got on 
 shore after a good tossing about which made us 
 all sea-sick. The cable sent from the Caroline 
 was just 60 yards too short and did not reach 
 the shore, so although the Caroline did make 
 the splice late that night, we could neither test 
 nor speak. Reuter was at Norderney, and I 
 had to do the best I could, which was not much, 
 and went to bed early ; I thought I should never 
 sleep again, but in sheer desperation got up in 
 the middle of the night and gulped a lot of raw 
 whiskey and slept at last. But not long. A 
 
 Mr. F washed my face and hands and 
 
 dressed me ; and we hauled the cable out of the
 
 The ' Great Eastern! 1 89 
 
 sea, and got it joined to the telegraph station, 
 and on October 3rd telegraphed to Lowestoft 
 first and then to London. Miss Clara Volkman, 
 a niece of Mr. Reuter's, sent the first message to 
 Mrs. Reuter, who was waiting (Varley used Miss 
 Clara's hand as a kind of key), and I sent one of 
 the first messages to Odden. I thought a mes- 
 sage addressed to him would not frighten you, 
 and that he would enjoy a message through 
 Papa's cable. I hope he did. They were all 
 very merry, but I had been so lowered by pain 
 that I could not enjoy myself in spite of the 
 
 V. 
 
 Of the 1869 cruise in the Great Eastern, I give 
 what I am able ; only sorry it is no more, for 
 the sake of the ship itself, already almost a 
 legend even to the generation that saw it 
 launched. 
 
 ' June 17, 1869. Here are the names of our 
 staff in whom I expect you to be interested, as 
 future Great Eastern stories may be full of 
 them: Theophilus Smith, a man of Latimer 
 Clark's ; Leslie C. Hill, my prizeman at Uni-
 
 1 90 Memoir of Fleemtng Jenkin. 
 
 versity College ; Lord Sackville Cecil ; King, 
 one of the Thomsonian Kings; Laws, goes for 
 Willoughby Smith, who will also be on board ; 
 Varley, Clark, and Sir James Anderson make 
 up the sum of all you know anything of. A 
 Captain Halpin commands the big ship. There 
 are four smaller vessels. The Wm. Cory, which 
 laid the Norderney cable, has already gone to 
 St. Pierre to lay the shore ends. The Hawk 
 and Chiltern have gone to Brest to lay shore 
 ends. The Hawk and Scanderia go with us 
 across the Atlantic and we shall at St. Pierre be 
 transhipped into one or the other. 
 
 l ju?ie 1 8. Somewhere in London. The shore 
 end is laid, as you may have seen, and we are 
 all under pressing orders to march, so we start 
 from London to-night at 5.10. 
 
 ' June 20. Off Ushant. I am getting quite 
 fond of the big ship. Yesterday morning in the 
 quiet sunlight, she turned so slowly and lazily 
 in the great harbour at Portland, and bye and 
 bye slipped out past the long pier with so little 
 stir, that I could hardly believe we were really 
 off. No men drunk, no women crying, no sing- 
 ing or swearing, no confusion or bustle on deck
 
 The ' Great Eastern? 191 
 
 nobody apparently aware that they had any- 
 thing to do. The look of the thing was that 
 the ship had been spoken to civilly and had 
 kindly undertaken to do everything that was 
 necessary without any further interference. I 
 have a nice cabin with plenty of room for my 
 legs in my berth and have slept two nights like 
 a top. Then we have the ladies' cabin set apart 
 as an engineer's office, and I think this de- 
 cidedly the nicest place in the ship: 35 ft. x 
 20 ft. broad four tables, three great mirrors, 
 plenty of air and no heat from the funnels 
 which spoil the great dining-room. I saw a 
 whole library of books on the walls when here 
 last, and this made me less anxious to provide 
 light literature ; but alas, to-day I find that they 
 are every one bibles or prayer-books. Now one 
 cannot read many hundred bibles. . . . As for 
 the motion of the ship it is not very much, 
 but 'twill suffice. Thomson shook hands and 
 wished me well. I do like Thomson. . . . Tell 
 Austin that the Great Eastern has six masts 
 and four funnels. When I get back I will 
 make a little model of her for all the chicks 
 and pay out cotton reels. . . . Here we are at
 
 192 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 4.20 at Brest. We leave probably to-morrow 
 morning. 
 
 ' July 12. Great Eastern. Here as I write 
 we run our last course for the buoy at the St. 
 Pierre shore end. It blows and lightens, and 
 our good ship rolls, and buoys are hard to find ; 
 but we must soon now finish our work, and 
 then this letter will start for home. . . . Yes- 
 terday we were mournfully groping our way 
 through the wet grey fog, not at all sure where 
 we were, with one consort lost and the other 
 faintly answering the roar of our great whistle 
 through the mist. As to the ship which was to 
 meet us, and pioneer us up the deep channel, we 
 did not know if we should come within twenty 
 miles of her ; when suddenly up went the fog, 
 out came the sun, and there, straight ahead, was 
 the Wm. Cory, our pioneer, and a little dancing 
 boat, the Gulnare, sending signals of welcome 
 with many-coloured flags. Since then we have 
 been steaming in a grand procession ; but now 
 at 2 A.M. the fog has fallen, and the great roar- 
 ing whistle calls up the distant answering notes 
 all around us. Shall we, or shall we not find 
 the buoy ?
 
 The Brazilian Cable. 193 
 
 *July 13. All yesterday we lay in the damp 
 dripping fog, with whistles all round and guns 
 firing so that we might not bump up against one 
 another. This little delay has let us get our 
 reports into tolerable order. We are now at 7 
 o'clock getting the cable end again, with the 
 main cable buoy close to us.' 
 
 A telegram of July 20 : ' I have received your 
 four welcome letters. The Americans are charm- 
 ing people.' 
 
 VI. 
 
 And here to make an end are a few random 
 bits about the cruise to Pernambuco : 
 
 ' Plymouth, June 21, 1873. I have been down 
 to the sea-shore and smelt the salt sea and like 
 it ; and I have seen the Hooper pointing her 
 great bow sea-ward, while light smoke rises 
 from her funnels telling that the fires are being 
 lighted ; and sorry as I am to be without you, 
 something inside me answers to the call to be 
 off and doing. 
 
 ' Lalla Rookh. Plymouth, June 22. We have 
 been a little cruise in the yacht over to the 
 Eddystone lighthouse, and my sea-legs seem
 
 1 94 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 very well on. Strange how alike all these starts 
 are first on shore, steaming hot days with a 
 smell of bone-dust and tar and salt'water ; then 
 the little puffing, panting steam-launch that 
 bustles out across a port with green woody sides, 
 little yachts sliding about, men-of-war training- 
 ships, and then a great big black hulk of a thing 
 with a mass of smaller vessels sticking to it like 
 parasites ; and that is one's home being coaled. 
 Then comes the Champagne lunch where every- 
 one says all that is polite to everyone else, and 
 then the uncertainty when to start. So far as 
 we know now, we are to start to-morrow morn- 
 ing at daybreak ; letters that come later are to 
 be sent to Pernambuco by first mail. . . . My 
 father has sent me the heartiest sort of Jack 
 Tar's cheer. 
 
 ' S. S. Hooper. Off Funchal, June 29. Here 
 we are off Madeira at seven o'clock in the 
 morning. Thomson has been sounding with his 
 special toy ever since half-past three (1087 
 fathoms of water). I have been watching the 
 day break, and long jagged islands start into 
 being out of the dull night. We are still some 
 miles from land ; but the sea is calmer than
 
 The Cook and the Goat. 195 
 
 Loch Eil often was, and the big Hooper rests 
 very contentedly after a pleasant voyage and 
 favourable breezes. I have not been able to do 
 any real work except the testing [of the cable], 
 for though not sea-sick, I get a little giddy when 
 I try to think on board. . . . The ducks have 
 just had their daily souse and are quacking and 
 gabbling in a mighty way outside the door of 
 the captain's deck cabin where I write. The 
 cocks are crowing, and new-laid eggs are said to 
 be found in the coops. Four mild oxen have 
 been untethered and allowed to walk along the 
 broad iron decks a whole drove of sheep seem 
 quite content while licking big lumps of bay 
 salt. Two exceedingly impertinent goats lead 
 the cook a perfect life of misery. They steal 
 round the galley and will nibble the carrots or 
 turnips if his back is turned for one minute ; 
 and then he throws something at them and 
 misses them ; and they scuttle off laughing im- 
 pudently, and flick one ear at him from a safe 
 distance. This is the most impudent gesture I 
 ever saw. Winking is nothing to it. The ear 
 normally hangs down behind ; the goat turns 
 sideways to her enemy by a little knowing
 
 1 96 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 cock of the head flicks one ear over one eye, 
 and squints from behind it for half a minute 
 tosses her head back, skips a pace or two 
 further off, and repeats the manoeuvre. The 
 cook is very fat and cannot run after that goat 
 much. 
 
 ' Pernambuco, Aug. I. We landed here yes- 
 terday, all well and cable sound, after a good 
 passage. . . . I am on familiar terms with cocoa- 
 nuts, mangoes, and bread-fruit trees, but I think 
 I like the negresses best of anything I have 
 seen. In turbans and loose sea-green robes, 
 with beautiful black-brown complexions and a 
 stately carriage, they really are a satisfaction to 
 my eye. The weather has been windy and 
 rainy ; the Hooper has to lie about a mile from 
 the town, in an open roadstead, with the whole 
 swell of the Atlantic driving straight on shore. 
 The little steam launch gives all who go in her a 
 good ducking, as she bobs about on the big 
 rollers ; and my old gymnastic practice stands 
 me in good stead on boarding and leaving her. 
 We clamber down a rope ladder hanging from 
 the high stern, and then taking a rope in one 
 hand, swing into the launch at the moment
 
 The President of Pernambuco. 197 
 
 when she can contrive to steam up under us 
 bobbing about like an apple thrown into a tub 
 all the while. The President of the province 
 and his suite tried to come off to a State lunch- 
 eon on board on Sunday ; but the launch be- 
 ing rather heavily laden, behaved worse than 
 usual, and some green seas stove in the Presi- 
 dent's hat and made him wetter than he had 
 probably ever been in his life ; so after one or 
 two rollers, he turned back ; and indeed he was 
 wise to do so, for I don't see how he could have 
 got on board. . . . Being fully convinced that 
 the world will not continue to go round unless 
 I pay it personal attention, I must run away to 
 my work.'
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 18691885. 
 
 Edinburgh Colleagues Farrago Vit<z\. The Family Circle 
 Fleeming and his Sons Highland Life The Cruise of the 
 Steam Launch Summer in Styria Rustic Manners II. The 
 Drama Private Theatricals III. Sanitary Associations The 
 Phonograph IV. Fleeming's Acquaintance with a Student His 
 late Maturity of Mind Religion and Morality His Love of 
 Heroism Taste in Literature V. His Talk His late Popularity 
 Letter from M. Trelat. 
 
 'IPHE remaining external incidents of Fleem- 
 ing's life, pleasures, honours, fresh interests, 
 new friends, are not such as will bear to be told 
 at any length or in the temporal order. And 
 it is now time to lay narration by, and to look 
 at the man he was and the life he lived, more 
 largely. 
 
 Edinburgh, which was thenceforth to be his 
 home, is a metropolitan small town ; where col- 
 lege professors and the lawyers of the Parliament 
 House give the tone, and persons of leisure, at- 
 tracted by educational advantages, make up 
 much of the bulk of society. Not, therefore, an 
 
 unlettered place, yet not pedantic, Edinburgh 
 (198)
 
 His Colleagues. 199 
 
 will compare favourably with much larger cities. 
 A hard and disputatious element has been com- 
 mented on by strangers: it would not touch 
 Fleeming, who was himself regarded, even in 
 this metropolis of disputation, as a thorny table- 
 mate. To golf unhappily he did not take, and 
 golf is a cardinal virtue in the city of the winds. 
 Nor did he become an archer of the Queen's 
 Body-Guard, which is the Chiltern Hundreds 
 of the distasted golfer. He did not even fre- 
 quent the Evening Club, where his colleague 
 Tait (in my day) was so punctual and so genial. 
 So that in some ways he stood outside of the 
 lighter and kindlier life of his new home. I 
 should not like to say that he was generally 
 popular; but there as elsewhere, those who 
 knew him well enough to love him, loved him 
 well. And he, upon his side, liked a place 
 where a dinner party was not of necessity un- 
 intellectual, and where men stood up to him in 
 argument. 
 
 The presence of his old classmate, Tait, was 
 one of his early attractions to the chair ; and now 
 that Fleeming is gone again, Tait still remains, 
 ruling and really teaching his great classes.
 
 2OO Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 Sir Robert Christison was an old friend of his 
 mother's ; Sir Alexander Grant, Kelland, and 
 Sellar, were new acquaintances and highly 
 valued ; and these too, all but the last, have 
 been taken from their friends and labours. 
 Death has been busy in the Senatus. I will 
 speak elsewhere of Fleeming's demeanour to 
 his students ; and it will be enough to add here 
 that his relations with his colleagues in general 
 were pleasant to himself. 
 
 Edinburgh, then, with its society, its universi- 
 ty work, its delightful scenery, and its skating 
 in the winter, was thenceforth his base of opera- 
 tions. But he shot meanwhile erratic in many 
 directions : twice to America, as we have seen, 
 on telegraph voyages; continually to London 
 on business ; often to Paris ; year after year to 
 the Highlands to shoot, to fish, to learn reels 
 and Gaelic, to make the acquaintance and fall 
 in love with the character of Highlanders ; and 
 once to Styria, to hunt chamois and dance with 
 peasant maidens. All the while, he was pursuing 
 the course of his electrical studies, making fresh 
 inventions, taking up the phonograph, filled 
 with theories of graphic representation; read-
 
 Interests and Activities. 201 
 
 ing, writing, publishing, founding sanitary as- 
 sociations, interested in technical education, 
 investigating the laws of metre, drawing, acting, 
 directing private theatricals, going a long way 
 to see an actor a long way to see a picture ; in 
 the very bubble of the tideway of contemporary 
 interests. And all the while he was busied about 
 his father and mother, his wife, and in particulai 
 his sons ; anxiously watching, anxiously guiding 
 these, and plunging with his whole fund of 
 youthfulness into their sports and interests. 
 And all the while he was himself maturing 
 not in character or body, for these remained 
 young but in the stocked mind, in the tolerant 
 knowledge of life and man, in pious acceptance 
 of the universe. Here is a farrago for a chap- 
 ter : here is a world of interests and activities, 
 human, artistic, social, scientific, at each of which 
 he sprang with impetuous pleasure, on each of 
 which he squandered energy, the arrow drawn 
 to the head, the whole intensity of his spirit 
 bent, for the moment, on the momentary pur- 
 pose. It was this that lent such unusual in- 
 terest to his society, so that no friend of his 
 can forget that figure of Fleeming coming
 
 2O2 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 charged with some new discovery: it is this 
 that makes his character so difficult to represent. 
 Our fathers, upon some difficult theme, would 
 invoke the Muse ; I can but appeal to the 
 imagination of the reader. When I dwell 
 upon some one thing, he must bear in mind it 
 was only one of a score ; that the unweariable 
 brain was teeming at the very time with other 
 thoughts ; that the good heart had left no kind 
 duty forgotten. 
 
 I. 
 
 In Edinburgh, for a considerable time, Fleem- 
 ing's family, to three generations, was united : 
 Mr. and Mrs. Austin at Hailes, Captain and 
 Mrs. Jenkin in the suburb of Merchiston, Fleem- 
 ing himself in the city. It is not every family 
 that could risk with safety such close interdo- 
 rnestic dealings ; but in this also Fleeming was 
 particularly favoured. Even the two extremes, 
 Mr. Austin and the Captain, drew together. It 
 is pleasant to find that each of the old gentle- 
 men set a high value on the good looks of the 
 other, doubtless also on his own ; and a fine 
 picture they made as they walked the green ter
 
 F teeming and his Sons. 203 
 
 race at Hailes, conversing by the hour. What 
 they talked of is still a mystery to those who 
 knew them ; but Mr. Austin always declared 
 that on these occasions he learned much. To 
 both of these families of elders, due service was 
 paid of attention ; to both, Fleeming's easy 
 circumstances had brought joy ; and the eyes 
 of all were on the grandchildren. In Fleem- 
 ing's scheme of duties, those of the family stood 
 first ; a man was first of all a child, nor did he 
 cease to be so, but only took on added obliga- 
 tions, when he became in turn a father. The 
 care of his parents was always a first thought 
 with him, and their gratification his delight. 
 And the care of his sons, as it was always a 
 grave subject of study with him, and an affair 
 never neglected, so it brought him a thousand 
 satisfactions. ' Hard work they are,' as he once 
 wrote, 'but what fit work!' And again: ' O, 
 it's a cold house where a dog is the only repre- 
 sentative of a child ! ' Not that dogs were de- 
 spised ; we shall drop across the name of Jack, 
 the harum-scarum Irish terrier ere we have 
 done; his own dog Plato went up with him 
 daily to his lectures, and still (like other friends)
 
 2O4 Memoir of F teeming Jen kin. 
 
 feels the loss and looks visibly for the reappear- 
 ance of his master ; and Martin, the cat, Fleem- 
 ing has himself immortalised, to the delight of 
 Mr. Swinburne, in the columns of the Spectator. 
 Indeed there was nothing in which men take in- 
 terest, in which he took not some ; and yet al- 
 ways most in the strong human bonds, ancient 
 as the race and woven of delights and duties. 
 
 He was even an anxious father ; perhaps that 
 is the part where optimism is hardest tested. 
 He was eager for his sons ; eager for their 
 health, whether of mind or body; eager for 
 their education ; in that, I should have thought, 
 too eager. But he kept a pleasant face upon all 
 things, believed in play, loved it himself, shared 
 boyishly in theirs, and knew how to put a face 
 of entertainment upon business and a spirit of 
 education into entertainment. If he was to test 
 the progress of the three boys, this advertise- 
 ment would appear in their little manuscript 
 paper: 'Notice: The Professor of Engineer- 
 ing in the University of Edinburgh intends at 
 the close of the scholastic year to hold examina- 
 tions in the following subjects: (i) For boys in 
 the fourth class of the Academy Geometry
 
 Fleeming and his Sons. 205 
 
 and Algebra ; (2) For boys at Mr. Henderson's 
 school Dictation and Recitation ; (3) For boys 
 taught exclusively by their mothers Arithme- 
 tic and Reading,' Prizes were given ; but what 
 prize would be so conciliatory as this boyish 
 little joke? It may read thin here; it would 
 smack racily in the playroom. Whenever his 
 sons ' started a new fad ' (as one of them writes 
 to me) they ' had only to tell him about it, and 
 he was at once interested and keen to help.' 
 He would discourage them in nothing unless it 
 was hopelessly too hard for them ; only, if there 
 was any principle of science involved, they must 
 understand the principle ; and whatever was at- 
 tempted, that was to be done thoroughly. If it 
 was but play, if it was but a puppetshow they 
 were to build, he set them the example of being 
 no sluggard in play. When Frewen, the second 
 son, embarked on the ambitious design to make 
 an engine for a toy steamboat, Fleeming made 
 him begin with a proper drawing doubtless to 
 the disgust of the young engineer; but once 
 that foundation laid, helped in the work with 
 unflagging gusto, 'tinkering away,' for hours, 
 and assisted at the final trial 'in the big bath'
 
 206 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 with no less excitement than the boy. ' He 
 would take any amount of trouble to help us,' 
 writes my correspondent. ' We never felt an 
 affair was complete till we had called him to see, 
 and he would come at any time, in the middle 
 of any work.' There was indeed one recognised 
 playhour, immediately after the despatch of the 
 day's letters ; and the boys were to be seen wait- 
 ing on the stairs until the mail should be ready 
 and the fun could begin. But at no other time 
 did this busy man suffer his work to interfere 
 with that first duty to his children ; and there is 
 a pleasant tale of the inventive Master Frewen, 
 engaged at the time upon a toy crane, bringing 
 to the study where his father sat at work a half- 
 wound reel that formed some part of his design, 
 and observing, ' Papa, you might finiss windin' 
 this for me ; I am so very busy to-day.' 
 
 I put together here a few brief extracts from 
 Fleeming's letters, none very important in itself, 
 but all together building up a pleasant picture 
 of the father with his sons. 
 
 ' Jan. l$t/i, 1875. Frewen contemplates sus- 
 pending soap bubbles by silk threads for experi- 
 mental purposes. I don't think he will manage
 
 Fleeming and his Sons. ^07 
 
 that. Bernard' [the youngest] 'volunteered to 
 blow the bubbles with enthusiasm.' 
 
 ' Jan. ijth. I am learning a great deal of 
 electrostatics in consequence of the perpetual 
 cross-examination to which I am subjected. I 
 long for you on many grounds, but one is that I 
 may not be obliged to deliver a running lecture 
 on abstract points of science, subject to cross- 
 examination by two acute students. Bernie does 
 not cross-examine much ; but if anyone gets dis- 
 comfited, he laughs a sort of little silver-whistle 
 giggle, which is trying to the unhappy blun- 
 derer.' 
 
 ' May gth. Frewen is deep in parachutes. I 
 beg him not to drop from the top landing in one 
 of his own making.' 
 
 ' June 6th, 1876. Frewen's crank axle is a 
 failure just at present but he bears up.' 
 
 1 June I4//Z. The boys enjoy their riding. It 
 gets them whole funds of adventures. One of 
 their caps falling off is matter for delightful 
 leminiscences ; and when a horse breaks his 
 step, the occurrence becomes a rear, a shy, or a 
 plunge as they talk it over. Austin, with quiet 
 confidence, speaks of the greater pleasure in rid-
 
 208 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 ing a spirited horse, even if he does give a little 
 trouble. It is the stolid brute that he dislikes. 
 (N.B. You can still see six inches between him 
 and the saddle when his pony trots.) I listen 
 and sympathise and throw out no hint that their 
 achievements are not really great.' 
 
 ' June \%th. Bernard is much impressed by 
 the fact that I can be useful to Frewen about 
 the steamboat ' [which the latter irrepressible 
 inventor was making]. ' He says quite with 
 awe, " He would not have got on nearly so well 
 if you had not helped him." ' 
 
 ' June 27th. I do not see what I could do 
 without Austin. He talks so pleasantly and is 
 so truly good all through.' 
 
 'July 7th. My chief difficulty with Austin 
 is to get him measured for a pair of trousers. 
 Hitherto I have failed, but I keep a stout heart 
 and mean to succeed. Frewen the observer, in 
 describing the paces of two horses, says, " Polly 
 takes twenty-seven steps to get round the school. 
 I couldn't count Sophy, but she takes more than 
 a hundred." ' 
 
 ' Feb. i%th, 1877. We all feel very lonely with- 
 out you. Frewen had to come up and sit in my
 
 Fleeming and his Sons. 209 
 
 room for company last night and I actually kissed 
 him, a thing that has not occurred for years. 
 Jack, poor fellow, bears it as well as he can, and 
 has taken the opportunity of having a fester on 
 his foot, so he is lame and has it bathed, and this 
 occupies his thoughts a good deal/ 
 
 * Feb. igth. As to Mill, Austin has not got 
 the list yet. I think it will prejudice him very 
 much against Mill but that is not my affair. 
 Education of that kind ! . . . I would as soon 
 cram my boys with food and boast of the pounds 
 they had eaten, as cram them with literature.' 
 
 But if Fleeming was an anxious father, he did 
 not suffer his anxiety to prevent the boys from 
 any manly or even dangerous pursuit. What- 
 ever it might occur to them to try, he would 
 carefully show them how to do it, explain the 
 risks, and then either share the danger himself 
 or, if that were not possible, stand aside and 
 wait the event with that unhappy courage of 
 the looker-on. He was a good swimmer, and 
 taught them to swim. He thoroughly loved all 
 manly exercises ; and during their holidays, and 
 principally in the Highlands, helped and en- 
 couraged them to excel in as many as possible
 
 2 1 o Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 to shoot, to fish, to walk, to pull an oar, to hand, 
 reef and steer, and to run a steam launch. In 
 all of these, and in all parts of Highland life, he 
 shared delightedly. He was well on to forty when 
 he took once more to shooting, he was forty- 
 three when he killed his first salmon, but no boy 
 could have more single - mindedly rejoiced in 
 these pursuits. His growing love for the High- 
 land character, perhaps also a sense of the diffi- 
 culty of the task, led him to take up at forty-one 
 the study of Gaelic ; in which he made some 
 shadow of progress, but not much : the fast- 
 nesses of that elusive speech retaining to the 
 last their independence. At the house of his 
 friend Mrs. Blackburn, who plays the part of a 
 Highland lady as to the manner born, he learned 
 the delightful custom of kitchen dances, which 
 became the rule at his own house and brought 
 him into yet nearer contact with his neighbours. 
 And thus at forty-two, he began to learn the 
 reel : a study, to which he brought his usual 
 .smiling earnestness ; and the steps, diagrammat- 
 ically represented by his own hand, are before 
 me as I write. 
 
 It was in 1879 tnat a new feature was added
 
 Cruise of the Steam Launch. 211 
 
 to the Highland life : a steam launch, called the 
 Purgle, the Styrian corruption of Walpurga, 
 after a friend to be hereafter mentioned. ' The 
 steam launch goes,' Fleeming wrote. ' I wish 
 you had been present to describe two scenes of 
 which she has been the occasion already : one 
 during which the population of Ullapool, to a 
 baby, was harnessed to her hurrahing and the 
 other in which the same population sat with 
 its legs over a little pier, watching Frewen and 
 Bernie getting up steam for the first time.' 
 The Purgle was got with educational intent ; 
 and it served its purpose so well, and the boys 
 knew their business so practically, that when 
 the summer was at an end, Fleeming, Mrs. 
 Jenkin, Frewen the engineer, Bernard the stoker, 
 and Kenneth Robertson a Highland seaman, set 
 forth in her to make the passage south. The 
 first morning they got from Loch Broom into 
 Gruinard bay, where they lunched upon an 
 island ; but the wind blowing up in the after- 
 noon, with sheets of rain, it was found impossi- 
 ble to beat to sea ; and very much in the situa- 
 tion of castaways upon an unknown coast, the 
 party landed at the mouth of Gruinard river.
 
 2 1 2 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 A shooting lodge was spied among the trees ; 
 there Fleeming went ; and though the master, 
 Mr. Murray, was from home, though the two 
 Jenkin boys were of course as black as colliers, 
 and all the castaways so wetted through that, 
 as they stood in the passage, pools formed about 
 their feet and ran before them into the house, 
 yet Mrs. Murray kindly entertained them for the 
 night. On the morrow, however, visitors were 
 to arrive ; there would be no room and, in so 
 out-of-the-way a spot, most probably no food 
 for the crew of the Purgle ; and on the morrow 
 about noon, with the bay white with spindrift 
 and the wind so strong that one could scarcely 
 stand against it, they got up steam and skulked 
 under the land as far as Sanda Bay. Here they 
 crept into a seaside cave, and cooked some food ; 
 but the weather now freshening to a gale, it 
 was plain they must moor the launch where she 
 was, and find their way overland to some place 
 of shelter. Even to get their baggage from on 
 board was no light business ; for the dingy was 
 blown so far to leeward every trip, that they must 
 carry her back by hand along the beach. But 
 this once managed, and a cart procured in the
 
 Cruise of the Steam Launch. 2 1 3 
 
 neighbourhood, they were able to spend the 
 night in a pot-house on Ault Bea. Next day, 
 the sea was unapproachable ; but the next they 
 had a pleasant passage to Poolewe, hugging the 
 cliffs, the falling swell bursting close by them 
 in the gullies, and the black scarts that sat like 
 ornaments on the top of every stack and pin- 
 nacle, looking down into the Purgle as she 
 passed. The climate of Scotland had not done 
 with them yet : for three days they lay storm- 
 stayed in Poolewe, and when they put to sea 
 on the morning of the fourth, the sailors prayed 
 them for God's sake not to attempt the passage. 
 Their setting out was indeed merely tentative ; 
 but presently they had gone too far to return, 
 and found themselves committed to double Rhu 
 Reay with a foul wind and a cross sea. From 
 half-past eleven in the morning until half-past 
 five at night, they were in immediate and un- 
 ceasing danger. Upon the least mishap, the 
 Purgle must either have been swamped by the 
 seas or bulged upon the cliffs of that rude 
 headland. Fleeming and Robertson took turns 
 baling and steering; Mrs. Jenkin, so violent was 
 the commotion of the boat, held on with both
 
 214 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 hands; Frewen, by Robertson's direction, ran 
 the engine, slacking and pressing her to meet 
 the seas; and Bernard, only twelve years old, 
 deadly sea-sick, and continually thrown against 
 the boiler, so that he was found next day to be 
 covered with burns, yet kept an even fire. It 
 was a very thankful party that sat down that 
 evening to meat in the Hotel at Gairloch. And 
 perhaps, although the thing was new in the 
 family, no one was much surprised when Fleem- 
 ing said grace over that meal. Thenceforward 
 he continued to observe the form, so that there 
 was kept alive in his house a grateful memory 
 of peril and deliverance. But there was noth- 
 ing of the muff in Fleeming; he thought it a 
 good thing to escape death, but a becoming and 
 a healthful thing to run the risk of it ; and 
 what is rarer, that which he thought for himself, 
 he thought for his family also. In spite of the 
 terrors of Rhu Reay, the cruise was persevered 
 in and brought to an end under happier con- 
 ditions. 
 
 One year, instead of the Highlands, Alt 
 Aussee, in the Steiermark, was chosen for the 
 holidays ; and the place, the people, and the
 
 Slyrian Peasants. 215 
 
 life delighted Fleeming. He worked hard at 
 German, which he had much forgotten since he 
 was a boy; and what is highly characteristic, 
 equally hard at the patois, in which he learned 
 to excel. He won a prize at a Schiitzen-fest ; 
 and though he hunted chamois without much 
 success, brought down more interesting game 
 in the shape of the Styrian peasants, and in 
 particular of his gillie, Joseph. This Joseph 
 was much of a character ; and his appreciations 
 of Fleeming have a fine note of their own. The 
 bringing up of the boys he deigned to approve 
 of : 'fast so gut wie ein Bauer] was his trenchant 
 criticism. The attention and courtly respect 
 with which Fleeming surrounded his wife, was 
 something of a puzzle to the philosophic gillie ; 
 he announced in the village that Mrs. Jenkin 
 die silberne Frau, as the folk had prettily named 
 her from some silver ornaments was a ' geborene 
 Grdfiri who had married beneath her ; and when 
 Fleeming explained what he called the English 
 theory (though indeed it was quite his own) of 
 married relations, Joseph, admiring but uncon- 
 vinced, avowed it was 'gar schon! Joseph's 
 cousin, Walpurga Moser, to an orchestra of
 
 216 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 clarionet and zither, taught the family the coun- 
 try dances, the Steierisch and the Landler, and 
 gained their hearts during the lessons. Her 
 sister Loys, too, who was up ^t the Alp with 
 the cattle, came down to church on Sundays, 
 made acquaintance with the Jenkins, and must 
 have them up to see the sunrise from her house 
 upon the Loser, where they had supper and all 
 slept in the loft among the hay. The Mosers 
 were not lost sight of ; Walpurga still corresponds 
 with Mrs. Jenkin, and it was a late pleasure of 
 Fleeming's to choose and despatch a wedding 
 present for his little mountain friend. This 
 visit was brought to an end by a ball in the 
 big inn parlour; the refreshments chosen, the 
 list of guests drawn up, by Joseph ; the best 
 music of the place in attendance; and hosts 
 and guests in their best clothes. The ball was 
 opened by Mrs. Jenkin dancing Steierisch with 
 a lordly Bauer, in gray and silver and with a 
 plumed hat ; and Fleeming followed with Wal- 
 purga Moser. 
 
 There ran a principle through all these holi- 
 day pleasures. In Styria as in the Highlands, 
 the same course was followed : Fleeming threw
 
 Rustic Manners. 217 
 
 himself as fully as he could into the life and oc- 
 cupations of the native people, studying every- 
 where their dances and their language, and con- 
 forming, always with pleasure, to their rustic 
 etiquette. Just as the ball at Alt Aussee was 
 designed for the taste of Joseph, the parting 
 feast at Attadale was ordered in every particular 
 to the taste of Murdoch the Keeper. Fleeming 
 was not one of the common, so-called gentle- 
 men, who take the tricks of their own coterie 
 to be eternal principles of taste. He was aware, 
 on the other hand, that rustic people dwelling 
 in their own places, follow ancient rules with 
 fastidious precision, and are easily shocked and 
 embarrassed by what (if they used the word) 
 they would have to call the vulgarity of visitors 
 from town. And he, who was so cavalier with 
 men of his own class, was sedulous to shield 
 the more tender feelings of the peasant ; he, 
 who could be so trying in a drawing-room, was 
 even punctilious in the cottage. It was in all 
 respects a happy virtue. It renewed his life, 
 during these holidays, in all particulars. It 
 often entertained him with the discovery of 
 strange survivals; as when, by the orders of
 
 2i8 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 Murdoch, Mrs. Jenkin must publicly taste ci 
 every dish before it was set before her guests. 
 And thus to throw himself into a fresh life and 
 a new school of manners was a grateful exercise 
 of Fleeming's mimetic instinct ; and to the 
 pleasures of the open air, of hardships support- 
 ed, of dexterities improved and displayed, and 
 of plain and elegant society, added a spice of 
 drama. 
 
 II. 
 
 Fleeming was all his life a lover of the play 
 and all that belonged to it. Dramatic literature: 
 he knew fully. He was one of the not very nu- 
 merous people who can read a play : a knack, 
 the fruit of much knowledge and some imag- 
 ination, comparable to that of reading score, 
 Few men better understood the artificial princi- 
 ples on which a play is good or bad ; few more 
 unaffectedly enjoyed a piece of any merit of con- 
 struction. His own play was conceived with a 
 double design ; for he had long been filled with 
 his theory of the true story of Griselda ; used 
 to gird at Father Chaucer for his misconception ;
 
 The Drama. 219 
 
 and was, perhaps first of all, moved by the de- 
 sire to do justice to the Marquis of Saluces, 
 and perhaps only in the second place, by the 
 wish to treat a story (as he phrased it) like a sum 
 in arithmetic. I do not think he quite suc- 
 ceeded ; but I must own myself no fit judge. 
 Fleeming and I were teacher and taught as to 
 the principles, disputatious rivals in the prac- 
 tice, of dramatic writing. 
 
 Acting had always, ever since Rachel and the 
 Marseillaise, a particular power on him. ' If I 
 do not cry at the play/ he used to say, ' I want 
 to have my money back.' Even from a poor 
 play with poor actors, he could draw pleasure. 
 'Giacometti's Elisabettaj I find him writing, 
 ' fetched the house vastly. Poor Queen Eliza- 
 beth ! And yet it was a little good.' And 
 again, after a night of Salvini : ' I do not sup- 
 pose any one with feelings could sit out Othello, 
 if lago and Desdemona were acted.' Salvini 
 was, in his view, the greatest actor he had seen. 
 We were all indeed moved and bettered by the 
 visit of that wonderful man. ' I declare I feel 
 as if I could pray ! ' cried one of us, on the 
 return from Hamlet. * That is prayer,' said
 
 220 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 Fleeming. W. B. Hole and I, in a fine enthu- 
 siasm of gratitude, determined to draw up an 
 address to Salvini, did so, and carried it to 
 Fleeming; and I shall never forget with what 
 coldness he heard and deleted the eloquence of 
 our draft, nor with what spirit (our vanities once 
 properly mortified) he threw himself into the 
 business of collecting signatures. It was his 
 part, on the ground of his Italian, to see and 
 arrange with the actor ; it was mine to write in 
 the Academy a notice of the first performance 
 of Macbeth. Fleeming opened the paper, read 
 so far, and flung it on the floor. ' No,' he 
 cried, ' that won't do. You were thinking of 
 yourself, not of Salvini ! ' The criticism was 
 shrewd as usual, but it was unfair through ig- 
 norance ; it was not of myself that I was think- 
 ing, but of the difficulties of my trade which I 
 had not well mastered. Another unalloyed dra- 
 matic pleasure which Fleeming and I shared the 
 year of the Paris Exposition, was the Marquis 
 de Villemer, that blameless play, performed by 
 Madeleine Brohan, Delaunay, Worms, and 
 Broisat an actress, in such parts at least, to 
 whom I have never seen full justice rendered.
 
 Private Theatricals. 221 
 
 He had his fill of weeping on that occasion ; 
 and when the piece was at an end, in front of a 
 cafe, in the mild, midnight air, we had our fill 
 of talk about the art of acting. 
 
 But what gave the stage so strong a hold on 
 Fleeming was an inheritance from Norwich, 
 from Edward Barren, and from Enfield of the 
 Speaker. The theatre was one of Edward Bar- 
 ron's elegant hobbies ; he read plays, as became 
 Enfield's son-in-law, with a good discretion ; he 
 wrote plays for his family, in which Eliza Bar- 
 ron used to shine in the chief parts ; and later 
 in life, after the Norwich home was broken up, 
 his little granddaughter would sit behind him in 
 a great armchair, and be introduced, with his 
 stately elocution, to the world of dramatic lit- 
 erature. From this, in a direct line, we can de- 
 duce the charades at Claygate ; and after money 
 came, in the Edinburgh days, that private thea- 
 tre which took up so much of Fleeming's energy 
 and thought. The company Mr. and Mrs. R. 
 O. Carter of Colwall, W. B. Hole, Captain 
 Charles Douglas, Mr. Kunz, Mr. Burnett, Pro- 
 fessor Lewis Campbell, Mr. Charles Baxter, and 
 many more made a charming society for them-
 
 222 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 selves and gave pleasure to their audience. Mr. 
 Carter in Sir Toby Belch it would be hard to 
 beat. Mr. Hole in broad farce, or as the heraM 
 in the Trachinics^ showed true stage talent. As 
 for Mrs. Jenkin, it was for her the rest of us ex- 
 isted and were forgiven ; her powers were an 
 endless spring of pride and pleasure to her hus- 
 band ; he spent hours hearing and schooling her 
 in private ; and when it came to the perform- 
 ance, though there was perhaps no one in the 
 audience more critical, none was more moved 
 than Fleeming. The rest of us did not aspire 
 so high. There were always five performances 
 and weeks of busy rehearsal ; and whether we 
 came to sit and stifle as the prompter, to be the 
 dumb (or rather the inarticulate) recipients of 
 Carter's dog whip in the Taming of the Shrew, 
 or having earned our spurs, to lose one more il- 
 lusion in a leading part, we were always sure at 
 least of a long and an exciting holiday in mirth- 
 ful company. 
 
 In this laborious annual diversion, Fleeming's 
 part was large. I never thought him an actor, 
 but he was something of a mimic, which stood 
 him in stead. Thus he had seen Got in Poirier;
 
 Fleenring as an Actor. 223 
 
 and his own Poirier, when he came to play it, 
 breathed meritoriously of the model. The last 
 part I saw him play was Triplet, and at first I 
 thought it promised well. But alas ! the boys 
 went for a holiday, missed a train, and were not 
 heard of at home till jate at night. Poor Fleem- 
 irig, the man who never hesitated to give his sons 
 a chisel or a gun, or to send them abroad in a 
 canoe or on a horse, toiled all day at his re- 
 hearsal, growing hourly paler, Triplet growing 
 hourly less meritorious. And though the re- 
 turn of the children, none the worse for their 
 little adventure, brought the colour back into 
 his face, it could not restore him to his part. I 
 remember finding him seated on the stairs in 
 some rare moment of quiet during the subse- 
 quent performances. ' Hullo, Jenkin,' said I, 
 ' you look down in the mouth.' ' My dear boy,' 
 said he, ' haven't you heard me ? I have not one 
 decent intonation from beginning to end.' 
 
 But indeed he never supposed himself an 
 actor; took a part, when he took any, merely 
 for convenience, as one takes a hand at whist ; 
 and found his true service and pleasure in the 
 more congenial business of the manager. Augier,
 
 224 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 Racine, Shakespeare, Aristophanes in Hookham 
 Frere's translation, Sophocles and yEschylus in 
 Lewis Campbell's, such were some of the au- 
 thors whom he introduced to his public. In 
 putting these- upon the stage, he found a thou- 
 sand exercises for his ingenuity and taste, a 
 thousand problems arising which he delighted 
 to study, a thousand opportunities to make 
 these infinitesimal improvements which are so 
 much in art and for the artist. Our first Greek 
 play had been costumed by the professional cos- 
 turner, with unforgetable results of comicality 
 and indecorum : the second, the Trachinics of 
 Sophocles, he took in hand himself, and a de- 
 lightful task he made of it. His study was 
 then in antiquarian books, where he found con- 
 fusion, and on statues and bas-reliefs, where he 
 at last found clearness ; after an hour or so at 
 the British Museum, he was able to master ' the 
 chiton, sleeves and all '; and before the time was 
 ripe, he had a theory of Greek tailoring at his 
 fingers' ends, and had all the costumes made 
 under his eye as a Greek tailor would have made 
 them. ' The Greeks made the best plays and 
 the best statues, and were the best architects;
 
 Stage Managing. 225 
 
 of course, they were the best tailors, too/ said 
 he ; and was never weary, when he could find a 
 tolerant listener, of dwelling on the simplicity, 
 the economy, the elegance both of means and 
 effect, which made their system so delightful. 
 
 But there is another side to the stage-man- 
 ager's employment. The discipline of acting is 
 detestable ; the failures and triumphs of that 
 business appeal too directly to the vanity ; and 
 even in the course of a careful amateur per- 
 formance such as ours, much of the smaller side 
 of man will be displayed. Fleeming, among 
 conflicting vanities and levities, played his part 
 to my admiration. He had his own view ; he 
 might be wrong; but the performances (he 
 would remind us) were after all his, and he 
 must decide. He was, in this as in all other 
 things, an iron taskmaster, sparing not himself 
 nor others. If you were going to do it at all, 
 he would see that it was done as well as you 
 were able. I have known him to keep two cul- 
 prits (and one of these his wife) repeating the 
 same action and the same two or three words 
 for a whole weary afternoon. And yet he 
 gained and retained warm feelings from far the
 
 226 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 most of those who fell under his domination, 
 and particularly (it is pleasant to remember) 
 from the girls. After the slipshod training and 
 the incomplete accomplishments of a girls' 
 school, there was something at first annoying 
 at last exciting and bracing, in this high stand 
 ard of accomplishment and perseverance. 
 
 III. 
 
 It did not matter why he entered upon any 
 study or employment, whether for amusement 
 like the Greek tailoring or the Highland reels, 
 whether from a desire to serve the public as 
 with his sanitary work, or in the view of bene- 
 fiting poorer men as with his labours for tech- 
 nical education, he ' pitched into it ' (as he would 
 have said himself) with the same headlong zest. 
 I give in the Appendix a letter from Colonel 
 Fe' - gusson, which tells fully the nature of the 
 sanitary work and of Fleeming's part and suc- 
 cess in it. It will be enough to say here that it 
 was a scheme of protection against the blunder- 
 ing of builders and the dishonesty of plumbers. 
 Started with an eye rather to the houses of the
 
 Sanitary Associations. 227 
 
 rich, Fleeming hoped his Sanitary Associations 
 would soon extend their sphere of usefulness 
 and improve the dwellings of the poor. In this 
 hope he was disappointed ; but in all other ways 
 the scheme exceedingly prospered, associations 
 sprang up and continue to spring up in many 
 quarters, and wherever tried they have been 
 found of use. 
 
 Here, then, was a serious employment ; it has 
 proved highly useful to mankind ; and it was 
 begun besides, in a mood of bitterness, under 
 the shock of what Fleeming would so sensitive- 
 ly feel the death of a whole family of children. 
 Yet it was gone upon like a holiday jaunt. I 
 read in Colonel Fergusson's letter that his 
 schoolmates bantered him when he began to 
 broach his scheme ; so did I at first, and he took 
 the banter as he always did with enjoyment, 
 until he suddenly posed me with the question : 
 ' And now do you see any other jokes to make ? 
 Well, then,' said he, ' that's all right. I wanted 
 you to have your fun out first ; now we can be 
 serious.' And then with a glowing heat of 
 pleasure, he laid his plans before me, revelling 
 in the details, revelling in hope. It was as he
 
 228 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 wrote about the joy of electrical experiment 
 ' What shall I compare them to ? A new song ? 
 a Greek play ? ' Delight attended the exer- 
 cise of all his powers ; delight painted the future. 
 Of these ideal visions, some (as I have said) 
 failed of their fruition. And the illusion was 
 characteristic. Fleeming believed we had only 
 to make a virtue cheap and easy, and then al. 
 would practise it; that for an end unquestion- 
 ably good, men would not grudge a little trouble 
 and a little money, though they might stumble 
 at laborious pains and generous sacrifices. He 
 could not believe in any resolute badness. ' I 
 cannot quite say,' he wrote in his young man- 
 hood, ' that I think there is no sin or misery. 
 This I can say : I do not remember one single 
 malicious act done to myself. In fact it is 
 rather awkward when I have to say the Lord's 
 Prayer. I have nobody's trespasses to forgive.' 
 And to the point, I remember one of our dis- 
 cussions. I said it was a dangerous error not 
 to admit there were bad people ; he, that it was 
 only a confession of blindness on our part, and 
 that we probably called others bad only so far 
 as we were wrapped in ourselves and lacking in
 
 The Phonograph. 229 
 
 the transmigratory forces of imagination. 1 
 undertook to describe to him three persons ir- 
 redeemably bad and whom he should admit to 
 be so. In the first case, he denied my evidence : 
 'You cannot judge a man upon such testimony/ 
 said he. For the second, he owned it made him 
 sick to hear the tale; but then there was no 
 spark of malice, it was mere weakness I had de- 
 scribed, and he had never denied nor thought 
 to set a limit to man's weakness. At my 
 third gentleman, he struck his colours. ' Yes,' 
 said he, 'I'm afraid that is a bad man.' And 
 then looking at me shrewdly: 'I wonder if it 
 isn't a very unfortunate thing for you to have 
 met him.' I showed him radiantly how it was 
 the world we must know, the world as it was, 
 not a world expurgated and prettified with 
 optimistic rainbows. ' Yes, yes,' said he ; ' but 
 this badness is such an easy, lazy explanation. 
 Won't you be tempted to use it, instead of try- 
 ing to understand people ? ' 
 
 In the year 1878, he took a passionate fancy 
 for the phonograph : it was a toy after his heart, 
 a toy that touched the skirts of life, art, and 
 science, a toy prolific of problems and theories.
 
 230 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 Something fell to be done for a University 
 Cricket Ground Bazaar. ' And the thought 
 struck him,' Mr. Ewing writes to me, ' to ex- 
 hibit Edison's phonograph, then the very new- 
 est scientific marvel. The instrument itself was 
 not to be purchased I think no specimen had 
 then crossed the Atlantic but a copy of the 
 Times with an account of it was at hand, and 
 by the help of this we made a phonograph which 
 to our great joy talked, and talked, too, with the 
 purest American accent. It was so good that 
 a second instrument was got ready forthwith. 
 Both were shown at the Bazaar : one by Mrs. 
 Jenkin to people willing to pay half a crown for 
 a private view and the privilege of hearing their 
 own voices, while Jenkin, perfervid as usual, 
 gave half-hourly lectures on the other in an ad- 
 joining room I, as his lieutenant, taking turns. 
 The thing was in its way a little triumph. A 
 few of the visitors were deaf, and hugged the 
 belief that they were the victims of a new kind 
 of fancy-fair swindle. Of the others, many who 
 came to scoff remained to take raffle tickets; 
 and one of the phonographs was finally disposed 
 of in this way, falling, by a happy freak of the
 
 The Phonograph. 231 
 
 ballot-box, into the hands of Sir William Thom- 
 son.' The other remained in Fleeming's hands, 
 and was a source of infinite occupation. Once 
 it was sent to London, ' to bring back on the 
 tinfoil the tones of a lady distinguished for clear 
 vocalisations ; at another time Sir Robert Chris- 
 tison was brought in to contribute his powerful 
 bass '; and there scarcely came a visitor about 
 the house, but he was made the subject of ex- 
 periment. The visitors, I am afraid, took their 
 parts lightly : Mr. Hole and I, with unscientific 
 laughter, commemorating various shades of 
 Scotch accent, or proposing to ' teach the poor 
 dumb animal to swear.' But Fleeming and Mr. 
 Ewing, when we butterflies were gone, were la- 
 boriously ardent. Many thoughts that occu- 
 pied the later years of my friend were caught 
 from the small utterance of that toy. Thence 
 came his inquiries into the roots of articulate 
 language and the foundations of literary art ; 
 his papers on vowel sounds, his papers in the 
 Saturday Review upon the laws of verse, and 
 many a strange approximation, many a just 
 note, thrown out in talk and now forgotten. I 
 pass over dozens of his interests, and dwell on
 
 232 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 this trifling matter of the phonograph, because 
 it seems to me that it depicts the man. So, for 
 Fleeming, one thing joined into another, the 
 greater with the less. He cared not where it 
 was he scratched the surface of the ultimate 
 mystery in the child's toy, in the great tragedy, 
 in the laws of the tempest, or in the properties 
 of energy or mass certain that whatever he 
 touched, it was a part of life and however he 
 touched it, there would flow for his happy con- 
 stitution interest and delight. ' All fables have 
 their morals,' says Thoreau, ' but the innocent 
 enjoy the story.' There is a truth represented 
 for the imagination in these lines of a noble 
 poem, where we are told, that in our highest 
 hours of visionary clearness, we can but 
 
 'see the children sport upon the shore 
 And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.' 
 
 To this clearness Fleeming had attained ; and 
 although he heard the voice of the eternal seas 
 and weighed its message, he was yet able, until 
 the end of his life, to sport upon these shores 
 of death and mystery with the gaiety and inno- 
 cence of children.
 
 Fie em ing as a Professor. 233 
 
 IV. 
 
 It was as a student that I first knew Fleem- 
 ing, as one of that modest number of young 
 men who sat under his ministrations in a soul- 
 chilling class-room at the top of the University 
 buildings. His presence was against him as a 
 professor : no one, least of all students, would 
 have been moved to respect him at first sight : 
 rather short in stature, markedly plain, boyishly 
 young in manner, cocking his head like a terrier 
 with every mark of the most engaging vivacity 
 and readiness to be pleased, full of words, full 
 of paradox, a stranger could scarcely fail to look 
 at him twice, a man thrown with him in a train 
 could scarcely fail to be engaged by him in talk, 
 but a student would never regard him as aca- 
 demical. Yet he had that fibre in him that order 
 always existed in his class-room. I do not re- 
 member that he ever addressed me in language ; 
 at the least sign of unrest, his eye would fall on 
 me and I was quelled. Such a feat is compara- 
 tively easy in a small class ; but I have misbe- 
 haved in smaller classes and under eyes more 
 Olympian than Fleeming Jenkin's. He was
 
 234 Memoir of F leaning Jenkin. 
 
 simply a man from whose reproof one shrank ; 
 in manner the least buckrammed of mankind, he 
 had, in serious moments, an extreme dignity of 
 goodness. So it was that he obtained a power 
 over the most insubordinate of students, but a 
 power of which I was myself unconscious. I 
 was inclined to regard any professor as a joke, 
 and Fleeming as a particularly good joke, per- 
 haps the broadest in the vast pleasantry of my 
 curriculum. I was not able to follow his lec- 
 tures ; I somehow dared not misconduct my- 
 self, as was my customary solace ; and I re- 
 frained from attending. This brought me at 
 the end of the session into a relation with my 
 contemned professor that completely opened 
 my eyes. Daring the year, bad student as I 
 was, he had shown a certain leaning to my so- 
 ciety ; I had been to his house, he had askc-i 
 me to take a humble part in his theatricals ; I 
 was a master in the art of extracting a certifi- 
 cate even at the cannon's mouth ; and I was un- 
 der no apprehension. But when I approached 
 Fleeming, I found myself in another world ; he 
 would have naught of me. ' It is quite useless 
 for you to come to me, Mr. Stevenson. There
 
 A Student's Certificate. 235 
 
 may be doubtful cases, there is no doubt about 
 ycurs. You have simply not attended my class.' 
 The document was necessary to me for family 
 considerations ; and presently I stooped to such 
 pleadings and rose to such adjurations, as made 
 my ears burn to remember. He was quite un- 
 moved ; he had no pity for me. ' You are no 
 fool,' said he, 'and you chose your course.' I 
 showed him that he had misconceived his duty, 
 that certificates were things of form, attendance 
 a matter of taste. Two things, he replied, had 
 been required for graduation, a certain compe- 
 tency proved in the final trials and a certain pe- 
 riod of genuine training proved by certificate ; 
 if he did as I desired, not less than if he gave 
 me hints for an examination, he was aiding me 
 to steal a degree. ' You see, Mr. Stevenson, 
 these are the laws and I am here to apply 
 them,' said he. I could not say but that this 
 view was tenable, though it was new to me ; I 
 changed my attack: it was only for my father's 
 eye that I required his signature, it need never 
 go to the Senatus, I had already certificates 
 enough to justify my year's attendance. ' Bring 
 them to me; I cannot take your word for that/
 
 236 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 said he. ' Then I will consider.' The next day 
 I came charged with my certificates, a humble 
 assortment. And when he had satisfied him- 
 self, ' Remember,' said he, ' that I can promise 
 nothing, but I will try to find a form of words.' 
 He did find one, and I am still ashamed when I 
 think of his shame in giving me that paper. He 
 made no reproach in speech, but his manner 
 was the more eloquent ; it told me plainly what 
 a dirty business we were on ; and I went from 
 his presence, with my certificate indeed in my 
 possession, but with no answerable sense of tri- 
 umph. That was the bitter beginning of my 
 love for Fleeming ; I never thought lightly of 
 him afterwards. 
 
 Once, and once only, after our friendship was 
 truly founded, did we come to a considerable 
 difference. It was, by the rules of poor human- 
 ity, my fault and his. I had been led to dabble 
 in society journalism ; and this coming to his 
 ears, he felt it like a disgrace upon himself. So 
 far he was exactly in the right ; but he wa^ scarce 
 happily inspired when he broached the subject 
 at his own table and before guests who were 
 strangers to me. It was the sort of error he was
 
 Flecm ing 's Tact. ,237 
 
 always ready to repent, but always certain to re- 
 peat ; and on this occasion he spoke so freely 
 that I soon made an excuse and left the house 
 with the firm purpose of returning no more. 
 About a month later, I met him at dinner at a 
 common friend's. ' Now,' said he, on the stairs, 
 ' I engage you like a lady to dance for the 
 end of the evening. You have no right to quarrel 
 with me and not give me a chance.' I have often 
 said and thought that Fleeming had no tact ; he 
 belied the opinion then. I remember perfectly 
 how, so soon as we could get together, he began 
 his attack : ' You may have grounds of quarrel 
 with me ; you have none against Mrs. Jenkin ; and 
 before I say another word, I want you to prom- 
 ise you will come to her house as usual.' An 
 interview thus begun could have but one end- 
 ing : if the quarrel were the fault of both, the 
 merit of the reconciliation was entirely Fleem- 
 ing's. 
 
 When our intimacy first began, coldly enough, 
 accidentally enough on his part, he had still 
 something of the Puritan, something of the in- 
 human narrowness of the good youth. It fell 
 from him slowly, year by year, as he continued
 
 238 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 to ripen, and grow milder, and understand more 
 generously the mingled characters of men. In 
 the early days he once read me a bitter lecture ; 
 and I remember leaving his house in a fine 
 spring afternoon, with the physical darkness of 
 despair upon my eyesight. Long after he made 
 me a formal retractation of the sermon and a 
 formal apology for the pain he had inflicted ; 
 adding drolly, but truly, ' You see, at that time 
 1 was so much younger than you ! ' And yet 
 even in those days there was much to learn from 
 him ; and above all his fine spirit of piety, bravely 
 and trustfully accepting life, and his singular de- 
 light in the heroic. 
 
 His piety was, indeed, a thing of chief im- 
 portance. His views (as they are called) upon 
 religious matters varied much ; and he could 
 never be induced to think them more or less 
 than views. ' All dogma is to me mere form,' 
 he wrote ; ' dogmas are mere blind struggles to 
 express the inexpressible. I cannot conceive 
 that any single proposition whatever in religion 
 is true in the scientific sense ; and yet all the 
 while I think the religious view of the world is 
 the most true view. Try to separate from the
 
 Religion and Morality. 239 
 
 mass of their statements that which is common 
 to Socrates, Isaiah, David, St. Bernard, the 
 Jansenists, Luther, Mahomet, Bunyan yes, and 
 George Eliot : of course you do not believe that 
 this something could be written down in a set 
 of propositions like Euclid, neither will you 
 deny that there is something common and this 
 something very valuable. ... I shall be sorry 
 if the boys ever give a moment's thought to the 
 question of what community they belong to 
 I hope they will belong to the great community.' 
 I should observe that as time went on his con- 
 formity to the church in which he was born 
 grew more complete, and his views drew nearer 
 the conventional. ' The longer I live, my dear 
 Louis,' he wrote but a few months before his 
 death, 'the more convinced I become of a direct 
 care by God which is reasonably impossible 
 but there it is.' And in his last year he took 
 the communion. 
 
 But at the time when I fell under his influence, 
 he stood more aloof; and this made him the 
 more impressive to a youthful atheist. He had 
 a keen sense of language and its imperial in- 
 fluence on men; language contained all the
 
 240 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 great and sound metaphysics, he was wont to 
 say ; and a word once made and generally un- 
 derstood, he thought a real victory of man and 
 reason. But he never dreamed it could be ac- 
 curate, knowing that words stand symbol for 
 the indefinable. I came to him once with a 
 problem which had puzzled me out of measure : 
 what is a cause ? why out of so many innumer- 
 able millions of conditions, all necessary, should 
 one be singled out and ticketed 'the cause'? 
 'You do not understand,' said he. 'A cause is 
 the answer to a question : it designates that 
 condition which I happen to know and you 
 happen not to know.' It was thus, with 
 partial exception of the mathematical, that 
 he thought of all means of reasoning: they 
 were in his eyes but means of communica- 
 tion, so to be understood, so to be judged, 
 and only so far to be credited. The mathemat- 
 ical he made, I say, exception of: number and 
 measure he believed in to the extent of their 
 significance, but that significance, he was never 
 weary of reminding you, was slender to the 
 verge of nonentity. Science was true, because 
 it told us almost nothing. With a few abstrac-
 
 Truth and Right. 241 
 
 tions it could deal, and deal correctly ; convey- 
 ing honestly faint truths. Apply its means to 
 any concrete fact of life, and this high dialect 
 of the wise became a childish jargon. 
 
 Thus the atheistic youth was met at every 
 turn by a scepticism more complete than his 
 own, so that the very weapons of the fight were 
 changed in his grasp to swords of paper. Cer- 
 tainly the church is not right, he would argue, 
 but certainly not the anti-church either. Men 
 are not such fools as to be wholly in the wrong, 
 nor yet are they so placed as to be ever wholly 
 in the right. Somewhere, in mid air between 
 the disputants, like hovering Victory in some 
 design of a Greek battle, the truth hangs un- 
 discerned. And in the meanwhile what matter 
 these uncertainties ? Right is very obvious ; a 
 great consent of the best of mankind, a loud 
 voice within us (whether of God, or whether by 
 inheritance, and in that case still from God), 
 guide and command us in the path of duty. 
 He saw life very simple; he did not love re- 
 finements; he was a friend to much conformity 
 in unessentials. For (he would argue) it is in 
 this life as it stands about us, that we are given
 
 242 Memoir of Fleeming Jen kin. 
 
 our problem ; the manners of the day are the 
 colours of our palette ; they condition, they 
 constrain us ; and a man must be very sure he 
 is in the right, must (in a favourite phrase of 
 his) be ' either very wise or very vain,' to break 
 with any general consent in ethics. I remember 
 taking his advice upon some point of conduct. 
 ' Now,' he said, ' ho\v do you suppose Christ 
 would have advised you ? ' and when I had an- 
 swered that he would not have counselled me 
 anything unkind or cowardly, ' No,' he said, with 
 one of his shrewd strokes at the weakness of his 
 hearer, ' nor anything amusing.' Later in life, 
 he made less certain in the field of ethics. ' The 
 old story of the knowledge of good and evil is a 
 very true one,' I find him writing; only (he goes 
 on) ' the effect of the original dose is much 
 worn out, leaving Adam's descendants with the 
 knowledge that there is such a thing but un- 
 certain where.' His growing sense of this am- 
 biguity made him less swift to condemn, but no 
 less stimulating in counsel. 'You grant your- 
 self certain freedoms. Very well,' he would 
 say, ' I want to see you pay for them some other 
 way. You positively cannot do this : then there
 
 His Love of Heroism. 243 
 
 positively must be something else that you can 
 do, and I want to see you find that out and do 
 it.' Fleeming >would never suffer you to think 
 that you were living, if there were not, some- 
 where in your life, some touch of heroism, to 
 do or to endure. 
 
 This was his rarest quality. Far on in middle 
 age, when men begin to lie down with the bes- 
 tial goddesses, Comfort and Respectability, the 
 strings of his nature still sounded as high a 
 note as a young man's. He loved the harsh 
 vxice of duty like a call to battle. He loved 
 courage, enterprise, brave natures, a brave word, 
 an ugly virtue ; everything that lifts us above 
 the table where we eat or the bed we sleep 
 upon. This with no touch of the motive-monger 
 or the ascetic. He loved his virtues to be prac- 
 tical, his heroes to be great eaters of beef ; he 
 loved the jovial Heracles, loved the astute 
 Odysseus; not the Robespierres and Wesleys. 
 A fine buoyant sense of life and of man's un- 
 equal character ran through all his thoughts. 
 He could not tolerate the spirit of the pick- 
 thank ; being what we are, he wished us to see 
 others with a generous eye of admiration, not
 
 244 Memoir of F teeming Jenktn. 
 
 with the smallness of the seeker after faults. If 
 there shone anywhere a virtue, no matter how 
 incongruously set, it was upon, the virtue we 
 must fix our eyes. I remember having found 
 much entertainment in Voltaire's Saul, and tell- 
 ing him what seemed to me the drollest touches. 
 He heard me out, as usual when displeased, and 
 then opened fire on me with red-hot shot. To 
 belittle a noble story was easy ; it was not liter- 
 ature, it was not art, it was not morality ; there 
 was no sustenance in such a form of jesting, 
 there was (in his favourite phrase) ' no nitrog- 
 enous food' in such literature. And then he 
 proceeded to show what a fine fellow David 
 was ; and what a hard knot he was in about 
 Bathsheba, so that (the initial wrong committed) 
 honour might well hesitate in the choice of con- 
 duct ; and what owls those people were who 
 marvelled because an Eastern tyrant had killed 
 Uriah, instead of marvelling that he had not 
 killed the prophet also. ' Now if Voltaire had 
 helped me to feel that,' said he, ' I could have 
 seen some fun in it.' He loved the comedy which 
 shows a hero human, and yet leaves him a hero , 
 and the laughter which does not lessen love.
 
 Taste in Literature. 245 
 
 It was this taste for what is fine in human- 
 kind, that ruled his choice in books. These 
 should all strike a high note, whether brave or 
 tender, and smack of the open air. The noble 
 and simple presentation of things noble and 
 simple, that was the ' nitrogenous food ' of 
 which he spoke so much, which he sought so 
 eagerly, enjoyed so royally. He wrote to an 
 author, the first part of whose story he had seen 
 with sympathy, hoping that it might continue 
 in the same vein. ' That this may be so/ he 
 wrote, ' I long with the longing of David for 
 the water of Bethlehem. But no man need die 
 for the water a poet can give, and all can 
 drink it to the end of time, and their thirst be 
 quenched and the pool never dry and the 
 thirst and the water are both blessed.' It was 
 in the Greeks particularly that he found this 
 blessed water ; he loved ' a fresh air ' which he 
 found ' about the Greek things even in trans- 
 lations '; he loved their freedom from the mawk- 
 ish and the rancid. The tale of David in the 
 Bible, the Odyssey, Sophocles, /Eschylus, Shake- 
 speare, Scott ; old Dumas in his chivalrous note ; 
 Dickens rather than Thackeray, and the Tale oj
 
 246 Memoir of F kerning Jenktn. 
 
 Two Cities out of Dickens : such were some of 
 his preferences. To Ariosto and Boccaccio he 
 was always faithful; Burnt Njal was a late 
 favourite ; and he found at least a passing en- 
 tertainment in the Arcadia and the Grand Cyrus. 
 George Eliot he outgrew, finding her latterly 
 only sawdust in the mouth ; but her influence, 
 while it lasted, was great, and must have gone 
 some way to form his mind. He was easily set 
 on edge, however, by didactic writing; and held 
 that books should teach no other lesson but 
 what ' real life would teach, were it as vividly 
 presented.' Again, it was the thing made that 
 took him, the drama in the book ; to the book 
 itself, to any merit of the making, he was long 
 strangely blind. He would prefer the Agamem- 
 non in the prose of Mr. Buckley, ay, to Keats. 
 But he was his mother's son, learning to the 
 last. He told me one day that literature was 
 not a trade ; that it was no craft ; that the pro- 
 fessed author was merely an amateur with a 
 door-plate. ' Very well,' said I, ' the first time 
 you get a proof, I will demonstrate that it is as 
 much a trade as bricklaying, and that you do 
 not know it.' By the very next post, a proof
 
 Fleeming as a Writer. 247 
 
 came. I opened it with fear ; for he was indeed, 
 as the reader will see by these volumes, a for- 
 midable amateur; always wrote brightly, be- 
 cause he always thought trenchantly ; and some- 
 times wrote brilliantly, as the worst of whistlers 
 may sometimes stumble on a perfect intonation. 
 But it was all for the best in the interests of his 
 education ; and I was able, over that proof, to 
 give him a quarter of an hour such as Fleeming 
 loved both to give and to receive. His subse- 
 quent training passed out of my hands into 
 those of our common friend, W. E. Henley. 
 ' Henley and I/ he wrote, ' have fairly good 
 times wigging one another for not doing better. 
 I wig him because he won't try to write a real 
 play, and he wigs me because I can't try to 
 write English.' When I next saw him, he was 
 full of his new acquisitions. ' And yet I have 
 lost something too,' he said regretfully. ' Up 
 to now Scott seemed to me quite perfect, he 
 was all I wanted. Since I have been learning 
 this confounded thing. I took up one of the 
 novels, and a great deal of it is both careless 
 and clumsy.'
 
 248 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin* 
 
 V. 
 
 He spoke four languages with freedom, not 
 even English with any marked propriety. What 
 he uttered was not so much well said, as excel- 
 lently acted : so we may hear every day the in- 
 expressive language of a poorly-written drama 
 assume character and colour in the hands of a 
 good player. No man had more of the vis 
 comica in private life ; he played no character 
 on the stage, as he could play himself among 
 his friends. It was one of his special charms ; 
 now when the voice is silent and the face still, 
 it makes it impossible to do justice to his power 
 in conversation. He was a delightful companion 
 to such as can bear bracing weather ; not to the 
 very vain ; not to the owlishly wise, who cannot 
 have their dogmas canvassed ; not to the pain- 
 fully refined, whose sentiments become articles 
 of faith. The spirit in which he could write 
 that he was ' much revived by having an oppor- 
 tunity of abusing Whistler to a knot of his special 
 admirers,' is a spirit apt to be misconstrued. 
 He was not a dogmatist, even about Whistler. 
 * The house is full of pretty things,' he wrote,
 
 His Individuality. 249 
 
 when on a visit ; ' but Mrs. 's taste in pretty 
 
 things has one very bad fault : it is not my taste.' 
 And that was the true attitude of his mind ; but 
 these eternal differences it was his joy to thresh 
 out and wrangle over by the hour. It was no 
 wonder if he loved the Greeks ; he was in many 
 ways a Greek himself; he should have been a 
 sophist and met Socrates ; he would have loved 
 Socrates, and done battle with him staunchly 
 and manfully owned his defeat ; and the dia- 
 logue, arranged by Plato, would have shown 
 even in Plato's gallery. He seemed in talk 
 aggressive, petulant, full of a singular energy ; 
 as vain you would have said as a peacock, until 
 you trod on his toes, and then you saw that he 
 was at least clear of all the sicklier elements of 
 vanity. Soundly rang his laugh at any jest 
 against himself. He wished to be taken, as he 
 took others, for what was good in him without 
 dissimulation of the evil, for what was wise in 
 him without concealment of the childish. He 
 hated a draped virtue, and despised a wit on its 
 own defence. And he drew (if I may so express 
 myself) a human and humorous portrait of him- 
 self with all his defects and qualities, as he thus
 
 250 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 enjoyed in talk the robust sports of the intelli- 
 gence ; giving and taking manfully, always with- 
 out pretence, always with paradox, always with 
 exuberant pleasure ; speaking wisely of what he 
 knew, foolishly of what he knew not ; a teacher, 
 a learner, but still combative ; picking holes in 
 what was said even to the length of captious- 
 ness, yet aware of all that was said rightly; 
 jubilant in victory, delighted by defeat : a Greek 
 sophist, a British schoolboy. 
 
 Among the legends of what was once a very 
 pleasant spot, the old Savile Club, not then di- 
 vorced from Savile Row, there are many mem- 
 ories of Fleeming. He was not popular at first, 
 being known simply as ' the man who dines here 
 and goes up to Scotland '; but he grew at last, 
 I think, the most generally liked of all the mem- 
 bers. To those who truly knew and loved him, 
 who had tasted the real sweetness of his nature, 
 Fleeming's porcupine ways had always been a 
 matter of keen regret. They introduced him 
 to their own friends with fear ; sometimes re- 
 called the step with mortification. It was not 
 possible to look on with patience while a man 
 so lovable thwarted love at every step. But
 
 Fleeming's Popularity. 251 
 
 the course of time and the ripening of his nature 
 brought a cure. It was at the Savile that he 
 first remarked a change ; it soon spread beyond 
 the walls of the club. Presently I find him 
 writing : ' Will you kindly explain what has 
 happened to me ? All my life I have talked a 
 good deal, with the almost unfailing result of 
 making people sick of the sound of my tougue. 
 It appeared to me that I had various things to 
 say, and I had no malevolent feelings, but never- 
 theless the result was that expressed above. 
 Well, lately some change has happened. If I 
 talk to a person one day, they must have me 
 the next. Faces light up when they see me. 
 "Ah, I say, come here," " come and dine with 
 me." It's the most preposterous thing I ever ex- 
 perienced. It is curiously pleasant. You have 
 enjoyed it all your life, and therefore cannot 
 conceive how bewildering a burst of it is for the 
 first time at forty-nine.' And this late sunshine 
 of popularity still further softened him. He 
 was a bit of a porcupine to the last, still shed- 
 ding darts ; or rather he was to the end a bit of a 
 schoolboy, and must still throw stones ; but the 
 essential toleration that underlay his disputa-
 
 252 Memoir of Fleeming Jcnkin. 
 
 tiousness, and the kindness that made of him a 
 tender sicknurse and a generous helper, shone 
 more conspicuously through. A new pleasure 
 had come to him ; and as with all sound natures, 
 he was bettered by the pleasure. 
 
 I can best show Fleeming in this later stage by 
 quoting from a vivid and interesting letter of 
 M. Emile Treat's. Here, admirably expressed, 
 is how he appeared to a friend of another 
 nation, whom he encountered only late in life. 
 M. TreUat will pardon me if I correct, even be- 
 fore I quote him ; but what the Frenchman sup- 
 posed to flow from some particular bitterness 
 against France, was only Fleeming's usual ad- 
 dress. Had M. Trlat been Italian, Italy would 
 have fared as ill ; and yet Italy was Fleeming's 
 favourite country. 
 
 Vous savez comment j'ai connu Fleeming Jenkin ! 
 C'etait en Mai 1878. Nous etions tous deux raembres 
 du jury de 1'Exposition Universelle. On n'avait rien 
 fait qui vaille a la premiere seance de notre classe, qui 
 avait eu lieu le matin. Tout le monde avait parle et 
 reparle pour ne rien dire. Cela durait depuis huit 
 heures ; il etait midi. Je demandai la parole pour une 
 motion d'ordre, et je proposal que la seanca fut levee a 
 la condition que chaque membre francais emportdt dt 
 dejeuner un jure etranger. Jenkin applaudit. ' Je vous
 
 M, Trtlat 's Letter. 253 
 
 cmmane dejeuner,' lui criai-je. 'Je veux bien.' . . . 
 Nous partimes ; en chemin nous vous rencontrions ; il 
 vous presente et nous aliens dejeuner tous trois aupres 
 du Trocadero. 
 
 Et, depuis ce temps, nous avons etc 1 de vieux amis. 
 Non seulement nous passions nos journees au jury, ou 
 nous etions toujours ensemble, cote-a-cote. Mais nos 
 habitudes s'etaient faites telles que, non contents de 
 dejeuner en face 1'un de 1'autre, je le ramenais diner 
 presque tous les jours chez moi. Cela dura une quin- 
 zaine : puis il fut rappele en Angleterre. Mais il revint, 
 et nous fimes encore une bonne etape de vie intellect- 
 uelle, morale et philosophique. Je crois qu'il me 
 rendait deja tout ce que j'eprouvais de sympathie et 
 d'estime, et que je ne fus pas pour rien dans sonretour 
 a Paris. 
 
 Chose singuliere ! nous nous etions attaches 1'un a 
 1'autre par les sous-entendus bien plus que par la 
 matiere de nos conversations. A vrai dire, nous etions 
 presque toujours en discussion ; et il nous arrivait de 
 nous rire au nez 1'un et 1'autre pendant des heures, tant 
 nous nous etonnions reciproquement de la diversite de 
 nos points de vue. Je le trouvais si Anglais, et il me 
 trouvait si Fran^ais ! II etait si franchement revoke" de 
 certaines choses qu'il voyait chez nous, et je compre- 
 nais si mal certaines choses qui se passaient chez vous ! 
 Rien de plus interessant que ces contacts qui etaient 
 des contrastes, et que ces rencontres d'idees qui etaient 
 des choses ; rien de si attachant que les dchappees de 
 cceur ou d'esprit auxquelles ces petits conflits donnaient 
 a tout moment cours. C'ect dans ces conditions que, 
 pendant son sejour a Paris en 1878, je conduisis un peu 
 partout mon nouvel ami. Nous allSmes chez Madame 
 Edmond Adam, ou il vit passer beaucoup d'hommes
 
 254 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 politiques avec lesquels il causa. Mais c'est chez les 
 ministres qu'il fut interess. Le moment tait, d'ail- 
 leurs, curieux en France. Je me rappelle que, lorsque 
 je le presentai au Ministre du Commerce, il fit cette 
 spirituelle repartie : ' C'est la seconde fois que je viens 
 en France sous la Rcpublique. La premiere fois, c'etait 
 en 1848, elle s'etait coiffee de travers : je suis bien 
 heureux de saluer aujourd'hui votre excellence, quand 
 elle a mis son chapeau droit.' Une fois je le menai 
 voir couronner la Rosiere de Nanterre. II y suivit les 
 ceremonies civiles et religieuses ; il y assistaau banquet 
 donne par le Maire ; il y vit notre de Lesseps, auquel il 
 porta un toast. Le soir, nous revinmes tard 4 Paris ; il 
 faisait cnaud ; nous etions un peu fatigues ; nous en- 
 trames dans un des rares cafes encore ouverts. II de- 
 vint silencieux. ' N'etes-vous pas content de votre 
 journee ? ' lui dis-je. ; O, si ! mais je reflechis, et je me 
 dis que vous etes un peuple gai tous ces braves gens 
 etaient gais aujourd'hui. C'est une vertu, la gaiete, et 
 Vous 1'avez en France, cette vertu ! ' II me disait cela 
 melancoliquement ; et c'etait la premiere fois que je lui 
 entendais faire une louange adressee a la France. . . . 
 Mais il ne faut pas que vous voyiez l<i une plainte de 
 ma part. Je serais un ingrat si je me plaignais ; car 
 il me disait souvent : ' Quel bon Frangais vous faites ! ' 
 Et il m'aimait a cause de cela, quoiqu'il semblat n'aimer 
 pas la France. C'etait la un trait de son originalite. II 
 est vrai qu'il s'en tirait en disant que je ne ressemblai 
 pas i mes compatriotes, ce a quoi il ne connaissait rien ! 
 Tout cela etait fort curieux ; car, moi-meme, je 
 1'aimais quoiqu'il en etit i mon pays ! 
 
 En 1879 il amena son fils Austin a Paris. J'attirai 
 celui-ci. II dejeunait avec moi deux fois par semaine. 
 Je lui montrai ce qu'etait 1'intimite frangaise en le tu-
 
 M. Tr Mat's Letter. 255 
 
 toyant paternellement. Cela reserra beaucoup nos liens 
 d'intimite avec jenkin. . . . Je fis inviter mon ami au 
 congres de \' Association francaise pour I'avancement des 
 sciences, qui se tenait & Rheims en 1880. II y vint. 
 J'eus le plaisir de lui donner la parole dans la section 
 du genie civil et militaire, que je presidais. II y fit une 
 trs interessante communication, qui me montrait une 
 fois de plus I'originalite de ses vues et la surete de sa 
 science. C'est a Tissue de ce congres que je passai lui 
 iaire visite & Rochefort, ou je le trouvai installe en fa- 
 mille et ou je presentai pour la premiere fois mes hom- 
 mages 4 son eminente compagne. Je le vis la sous un 
 jour nouveau et touchant pour moi. Madame Jenkin, 
 qu'il entoirrait si galamment, et ses deux jeunes fils 
 donnaient encore plus de relief a sa personne. J'em- 
 portai des quelques heures que je passai A cote de lui 
 dans ce charmant paysage un souvenir emu. 
 
 J'etais alle en Angleterre en 1882 sans pouvoir gag- 
 ner Edimbourg. J'y retournai en 1883 avec la com- 
 mission d'assainissement de la ville de Paris, dont je 
 faisais partie. Jenkin me rejoignit. Je le fis entendre 
 par mes collegues ; car il etait fondateur d'une socie'te' 
 de salubrite. II cut un grand succes parmi nous. 
 Mais ce voyage me restera toujours en me"moire parce 
 que c'est li que se fixa d'fenitivement notre forte am- 
 ide. II m'invita un jour a diner i son club et au mo- 
 ment de me fatre asseoir i cot6 de lui, il me retint et 
 mo dit: 'Je voudrais vous demander de m'accorder 
 quclque chose. C'est mon sentiment que nos relations 
 ne peuvent pas se bien continuer si vous ne me donnez 
 pas la permission de vous tutoyer. Voulez-vous que 
 nous nous tutoyions ? ' Je lui pris les mains et je lui dis 
 qu'une pareille proposition venant d'un Anglais, et d'un 
 Anglais de sa haute distinction, c'etait une victoire, dont
 
 256 Memoir of F teeming Jen kin. 
 
 je serais fier toul e ma vie. Et nous commencions a user 
 de cette nouvelle forme dans nos rapports. Vous savez 
 avec quelle finesse il parlait le frangais : comme il en 
 connaissait tous les tours, comme il jouait avec ses dif- 
 ncultes, et meme avec ses petites gamineries. Je crois 
 qu'il a etc heureux de pratiquer avec moi ce tutoie- 
 ment, qui ne s'adapte pas a 1'anglais, et qui est si fran- 
 cais. Je ne puis vous peindre 1'etendue et la variete 
 de nos conversations de la soiree. Mais ce que je puis 
 vous dire, c'est que, sous la caresse du tu, nos idees se 
 sont elevees. Nous avions toujours beaucoup ri en- 
 semble ; mais nous n'avions jamais laisse des banalites 
 s'introduire dans nos echanges de pensees. Ce soir-la, 
 notre horizon intellectuel s'est elargie, et nous y avons 
 pousse des reconnaissances profondes et lointaines. 
 Apres avoir vivement cause a table, nous avons longue- 
 ment cause au salon ; et nous nous separion's le soir 
 Trafalgar Square, apres avoir longe les trottoirs, sta- 
 tionne aux coins des rues et deux fois rebrousse chemin 
 en nous reconduisant 1'un 1'autre. II etait pres d'une 
 heure du matin ! Mais quelle belle passe d'argu menta- 
 tion, quels beaux echanges de sentiments, quelles fortes 
 confidences patriotiques nous avions fournies ! J'ai 
 compris ce soir la que Jenkin ne detestait pas la France, 
 et je lui serrai fort les mains en rembrassant. Nous 
 nous quittions aussi amis qu'on puisse 1'etre ; et notre 
 affection s'etait par lui etendue et comprise dans un tu 
 frangais.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 18751885. 
 
 Mrs. Jenkin's Illness Captain Jenkin The Golden Wedding- 
 Death of Uncle John -Death of Mr. and Mrs. Austin Illness 
 and Death of the Captain Death of Mrs. Jenkin Effect on 
 Fleeming Telpherage The End. 
 
 A ND now I must resume my narrative for 
 * that melancholy business that concludes 
 all human histories. In January of the year 
 1875, while Fleeming's sky was still unclouded, 
 he was reading Smiles. ' I read my engineers' 
 lives steadily,' he writes, ' but find biographies 
 depressing. I suspect one reason to be that 
 misfortunes and trials can be graphically de- 
 scribed, but happiness and the causes of happi- 
 ness either cannot be or are not. A grand new 
 branch of literature opens to my view : a drama 
 in which people begin in a poor way and end, 
 after getting gradually happier, in an ecstasy of 
 enjoyment. The common novel is not the thing 
 at all. It gives struggle followed by relief. I 
 want each act to close on a new and triumphant 
 
 (257)
 
 258 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 happiness, which has been steadily growing all 
 the while. This is the real antithesis of tragedy, 
 where things get blacker and blacker and end in 
 hopeless woe. Smiles has not grasped my grand 
 idea, and only shows a bitter struggle followed 
 by a little respite before death. Some feeble 
 critic might say my new idea was not true to 
 nature. I'm sick of this old-fashioned notion of 
 art. Hold a mirror up, indeed ! Let's paint a 
 picture of how things ought to be and hold that 
 up to nature, and perhaps the poor old woman 
 may repent and mend her ways.' The 'grand 
 idea ' might be possible in art ; not even the in- 
 genuity of nature could so round in the actual 
 life of any man. And yet it might almost seem 
 to fancy that she had read the letter and taken 
 the hint ; for to Fleeming the cruelties of fate 
 were strangely blended with tenderness, and 
 when death came, it came harshly to others, 
 to him not unkindly. 
 
 In the autumn of that same year 1875, Fleers- 
 ing's father and mother were walking in the gar- 
 den of their house at Merchiston, when the lat- 
 ter fell to the ground. It was thought at the 
 time to be a stumble ; it was in all likelihood a
 
 Illness of his Mother. 259 
 
 premonitory stroke of palsy. From that day, 
 there fell upon her an abiding panic fear ; that 
 glib, superficial part of us that speaks and rea- 
 sons could allege no cause, science itself could 
 find no mark of danger, a son's solicitude was 
 laid at rest ; but the eyes of the body saw the 
 approach of a blow, and the consciousness of 
 the body trembled at its coming. It came in a 
 moment ; the brilliant, spirited old lady leapt 
 from her bed, raving. For about six months, 
 this stage of her disease continued with many 
 painful and many pathetic circumstances ; her 
 husband who tended her, her son who was un- 
 wearied in his visits, looked for no change in her 
 condition but the change that comes to all. 
 ' Poor mother/ I find Fleeming writing, ' I can- 
 not get the tones of her voice out of my head. 
 ... I may have to bear this pain for a long 
 time ; and so I am bearing it and sparing my- 
 self whatever pain seems useless. Mercifully I 
 do sleep, I am so weary that I must sleep.' 
 And again later : * I could do very well, if my 
 mind did not revert to my poor mother's state 
 whenever I stop attending to matters immedi- 
 ately before me.' And the next day: 'I can
 
 260 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 never feel a moment's pleasure without having 
 my mother's suffering recalled by the very feel- 
 ing of happiness. A pretty, young face recalls 
 hers by contrast a careworn face recalls it by 
 association. I tell you, for I can speak to no 
 one else ; but do not suppose that I wilfully let 
 my mind dwell on sorrow.' 
 
 In the summer of the next year, the frenzy 
 left her ; it left her stone deaf and almost en- 
 tirely aphasic, but with some remains of her old 
 sense and courage. Stoutly she set to work 
 with dictionaries, to recover her lost tongues; 
 and had already made notable progress, when a 
 third stroke scattered her acquisitions. Thence- 
 forth, for nearly ten years, stroke followed upon 
 stroke, each still further jumbling the threads of 
 her intelligence, but by degrees so gradual and 
 with such partiality of loss and of survival, that 
 ' her precise state was always and to the end a 
 matter of dispute. She still remembered her 
 friends ; she still loved to learn news of them 
 upon the slate ; she still read and marked the 
 list of the subscription library; she still took an 
 interest in the choice of a play for the theatri- 
 cals, and could remember and find parallel pas-
 
 Kind Friends. 261 
 
 sages ; but alongside of these surviving powers, 
 were lapses as remarkable, she misbehaved like 
 a child, and a servant had to sit with her at ta- 
 ble. To see her so sitting, speaking with the 
 tones of a deaf mute not always to the purpose, 
 and to remember what she had been, was a mov- 
 ing appeal to all who knew her. Such was the 
 pathos of these two old people in their affliction, 
 that even the reserve of cities was melted and 
 the neighbours vied in sympathy and kindness. 
 Where so many were more than usually helpful, 
 it is hard to draw distinctions ; but I am di- 
 rected and I delight to mention in particular 
 the good Dr. Joseph Bell, Mr. Thomas, and Mr. 
 Archibald Constable with both their wives, the 
 Rev. Mr. Belcombe (of whose good heart and 
 taste I do not hear for the first time the news had 
 come to me by way of the Infirmary), and their 
 next-door neighbour, unwearied in service, Miss 
 Hannah Mayne. Nor should I omit to mention 
 that John Ruffini continued to write to Mrs. Jen- 
 kin till his own death, and the clever lady known 
 to the world as Vernon Lee until the end : a 
 touching, a becoming attention to what was only 
 the wreck and survival of their brilliant friend.
 
 262 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 But he to whom this affliction brought the 
 greatest change was the Captain himself. 
 What was bitter in his lot, he bore with un- 
 shaken courage ; only once, in these ten years 
 of trial, has Mrs. Fleeming Jenkin seen him 
 weep ; for the rest of the time his wife his 
 commanding officer, now become his trying 
 child was served not with patience alone, but 
 with a lovely happiness of temper. He had be- 
 longed all his life to the ancient, formal, speech- 
 making, compliment-presenting school of cour- 
 tesy; the dictates of this code partook in his 
 eyes of the nature of a duty ; and he must now 
 be courteous for two. Partly from a happy il- 
 lusion, partly in a tender fraud, he kept his wife 
 before the world as a still active partner. When 
 he paid a call, he would have her write ' with 
 love' upon a card; or if that (at the moment) 
 was too much, he would go armed with a bou- 
 quet and present it in her name. He even 
 wrote letters for her to copy and sign : an in- 
 nocent substitution, which may have caused 
 surprise to Ruffini or to Vernon Lee, if they 
 ever received, in the hand of Mrs. Jenkin the 
 very obvious reflections of her husband. He
 
 Captain Jenkin. 263 
 
 had always adored this wife whom he now 
 tended and sought to represent in correspond- 
 ence : it was now, if not before, her turn to re- 
 pay the compliment ; mind enough was left her 
 to perceive his unwearied kindness ; and as her 
 moral qualities seemed to survive quite unim- 
 paired, a childish love and gratitude were his 
 reward. She would interrupt a conversation to 
 cross the room and kiss him. If she grew ex- 
 cited (as she did too often) it was his habit to 
 come behind her chair and pat her shoulder ; 
 and then she would turn round, and clasp his 
 hand in hers, and look from him to her visitor 
 with a face of pride and love ; and it was at such 
 moments only that the light of humanity re- 
 vived in her eyes. It was hard for any stranger, 
 it was impossible for any that loved them, to 
 behold these mute scenes, to recall the past, 
 and not to weep. But to the Captain, I think 
 it was all happiness. After these so long years, 
 he had found his wife again ; perhaps kinder 
 than ever before ; perhaps now on a more 
 equal footing; certainly, to his eyes, still 
 beautiful. And the call made on his intelli- 
 gence had not been made in vain. The mer-
 
 264 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 chants of Aux Cayes, who had seen him tried 
 in some 'counter-revolution' in 1845, wrote to 
 the consul of his ' able and decided measures,' 
 ' his cool, steady judgment and discernment ' 
 with admiration ; and of himself, as ' a credit 
 and an ornament to H. M. Naval Service.' It 
 is plain he must have sunk in all his powers, 
 during the years when he was only a figure, and 
 often a dumb figure, in his wife's drawing-room ; 
 but with this new term of service, he brightened 
 visibly. He showed tact and even invention in 
 managing his wife, guiding or restraining her by 
 the touch, holding family worship so arranged 
 that she could follow and take part in it. He 
 took (to the world's surprise) to reading voy- 
 ages, biographies, Blair's Sermons, even (for her 
 letter's sake) a work of Vernon Lee's, which 
 proved, however, more than he was quite pre- 
 pared for. He shone more, in his remarkable 
 way, in society ; and twice he had a little holi- 
 day to Glenmorven, where, as may be fancied, 
 he was the delight of the Highlanders. One of 
 his last pleasures was to arrange his dining-room. 
 Many and many a room (in their wandering and 
 thriftless existence) had he seen his wife furnish
 
 Captain Jenkin. 265 
 
 'with exquisite taste' and perhaps with 'con- 
 siderable luxury ': now it was his turn to be the 
 decorator. On the wall he had an engraving of 
 Lord Rodney's action, showing the Protkte, his 
 father's ship, if the reader recollects ; on either 
 side of this on brackets, his father's sword, and 
 his father's telescope, a gift from Admiral Buck- 
 ner, who had used it himself during the engage- 
 ment ; higher yet, the head of his grandson's 
 first stag, portraits of his son and his son's wife, 
 and a couple of old Windsor jugs from Mrs. 
 Buckner's. But his simple trophy was not yet 
 complete ; a device had to be worked and 
 framed and hung below the engraving; and 
 for this he applied to his daughter-in-law: 'I 
 want you to work me something, Annie. An 
 anchor at each side an anchor stands for an 
 old sailor, you know stands for hope, you 
 know an anchor at each side, and in the 
 middle THANKFUL.' It is not easy, on any 
 system of punctuation, to represent the Cap- 
 tain's speech. Yet I hope there may shine out 
 of these facts, even as there shone through his 
 own troubled utterance, some of the charm of 
 that delightful spirit.
 
 266 Memoir of Flecming yenkin. 
 
 In 1881, the time of the golden wedding came 
 round for that sad and pretty household. It 
 fell on a Good Friday, and its celebration can 
 scarcely be recalled without both smiles and 
 tears. The drawing-room was filled with pres- 
 ents and beautiful bouquets ; these, to Fleem- 
 ing and his family, the golden bride and bride- 
 groom displayed with unspeakable pride, she so 
 painfully excited that the guests feared every 
 moment to see her stricken afresh, he guiding 
 and moderating her with his customary tact and 
 understanding, and doing the honours of the 
 day with more than his usual delight. Thence 
 they were brought to the dining-room, where 
 the Captain's idea of a feast awaited them : tea 
 and champagne, fruit and toast and childish lit- 
 tle luxuries, set forth pell-mell and pressed at 
 random on the guests. And here he must 
 make a speech for himself and his wife, prais- 
 ing their destiny, their marriage, their son, their 
 daughter-in-law, their grandchildren, their mani- 
 fold causes of gratitude : surely the most inno- 
 cent speech, the old, sharp contemner of his in- 
 nocence now watching him with eyes of admi- 
 ration. Then it was time for the guests to
 
 Death of Uncle John. 267 
 
 depart ; and they went away, bathed, even to 
 the youngest child, in tears of inseparable sor- 
 row and gladness, and leaving the golden bride 
 and bridegroom to their own society and that 
 of the hired nurse. 
 
 It was a great thing for Fleeming to make, 
 even thus late, the acquaintance of his father; 
 but the harrowing pathos of such scenes con- 
 sumed him. In a life of tense intellectual ef- 
 fort, a certain smoothness of emotional tenor 
 were to be desired ; or we burn the candle at 
 both ends. Dr. Bell perceived the evil that 
 was being done ; he pressed Mrs. Jenkin to re- 
 strain her husband from too frequent visits ; but 
 here was one of those clear-cut, indubitable du- 
 ties for which Fleeming lived, and he could not 
 pardon even the suggestion of neglect. 
 
 And now, after death had so long visibly but 
 still innocuously hovered above the family, it be- 
 gan at last to strike and its blows fell thick and 
 heavy. The first to go was uncle John Jenkin, 
 taken at last from his Mexican dwelling and the 
 lost tribes of Israel ; and nothing in this remark- 
 able old gentleman's life, became him like the 
 leaving of it. His sterling, jovial acquiescence
 
 268 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 in man's destiny was a delight to Fleeming. 
 ' My visit to Stowting has been a very strange 
 but not at all a painful one/ he wrote. ' In 
 case you ever wish to make a person die as he 
 ought to die in a novel,' he said to me, ' I must 
 tell you all about my old uncle.' He was to 
 see a nearer instance before long ; for this fam- 
 ily of Jenkin, if they were not very aptly fitted 
 to live, had the art of manly dying. Uncle 
 John was but an outsider after all; he had 
 dropped out of hail of his nephew's way of life 
 and station in society, and was more like some 
 shrewd, old, humble friend who should have 
 kept a lodge ; yet he led the procession of be- 
 coming deaths, and began in the mind of Fleem- 
 ing that train of tender and grateful thought, 
 which was like a preparation for his own. Al- 
 ready I find him writing in the plural of ' these 
 impending deaths'; already I find him in quest 
 of consolation. ' There is little pain in store 
 for these wayfarers,' he wrote, ' and we have 
 hops more than hope, trust.' 
 
 On May 19, 1884, Mr. Austin was taken. He 
 was seventy-eight years of age, suffered sharply 
 with all his old firmness, and died happy in the
 
 Death of Mr. and Mrs. Austin. 269 
 
 knowledge that he had left his wife well cared 
 for. This had always been a bosom concern ; 
 for the Barrons were long-lived and he believed 
 that she would long survive him. But their 
 union had been so full and quiet that Mrs. Aus- 
 tin languished under the separation. In their 
 last years, they would sit all evening in their 
 own drawing-room hand in hand : two old peo- 
 ple who, for all their fundamental differences, 
 had yet grown together and become all the world 
 in each other's eyes and hearts ; and it was felt 
 to be a kind release, when eight months after, on 
 January 14, 1885, Eliza Barren followed Alfred 
 Austin. ' I wish I could save you from all 
 pain,' wrote Fleeming six days later to his sor- 
 rowing wife, ' I would if I could but my way 
 is not God's way ; and of this be assured, God's 
 way is best.' 
 
 In the end of the same month, Captain Jenkin 
 caught cold and was confined to bed. He was 
 so unchanged in spirit that at first there seemed 
 no ground of fear ; but his great age began to 
 tell, and presently it was plain he had a sum- 
 mons. The charm of his sailor's cheerfulness 
 and ancient courtesy, as he lay dying, is not to
 
 2 jo Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 be described. There he lay, singing his old sea 
 songs ; watching the poultry from the window 
 with a child's delight ; scribbling on the slate lit- 
 tle messages to his wife, who lay bed-ridden in 
 another room ; glad to have Psalms read aloud 
 to him, if they were of a pious strain checking, 
 with an ' I don't think we need read that, my 
 dear,' any that were gloomy or bloody. Fleem- 
 ing's wife coming to the house and asking one 
 of the nurses for news of Mrs. Jenkin, ' Madam, 
 I do not know,' said the nurse ; ' for I am really 
 so carried away by the Captain that I can think 
 of nothing else.' One of the last messages scrib- 
 bled to his wife and sent her with a glass of the 
 champagne that had been ordered for himself, 
 ran, in his most finished vein of childish madri- 
 gal : ' The Captain bows to you, my love, across 
 the table.' When the end was near and it was 
 thought best that Fleeming should no longer go 
 home but sleep at Merchiston, he broke his news 
 to the Captain with some trepidation, knowing 
 that it carried sentence of death. ' Charming, 
 charming charming arrangement,' was the Cap- 
 tain's only commentary. It was the proper 
 thing for a dying man, of Captain Jenkin's
 
 Death of his Father and Mother-. 271 
 
 school of manners, to make some expression 
 of his spiritual state ; nor did he neglect the 
 observance. With his usual abruptness, ' Fleem- 
 ing,' said he, ' I suppose you and I feel about all 
 this as two Christian gentlemen should.' A last 
 pleasure was secured for him. He had been 
 waiting with painful interest for news of Gor- 
 don, and Khartoum; and by great good fortune, 
 a false report reached him that the city was re- 
 lieved, and the men of Sussex (his old neigh- 
 bours) had been the first to enter. He sat up 
 in bed and gave three cheers for the Sussex regi- 
 ment. The subsequent correction, if it came in 
 time, was prudently withheld from the dying 
 man. An hour before midnight on the fifth 
 of February, he passed away : aged eighty-four. 
 Word of his death was kept from Mrs. Jenkin ; 
 and she survived him no more than nine and 
 forty hours. On the day before her death, she 
 received a letter from her old friend Miss Bell of 
 Manchester, knew the hand, kissed the envelope, 
 and laid it on her heart ; so that she too died 
 upon a pleasure. Half an hour after midnight, 
 on the eighth of February, she fell asleep : it is 
 supposed in her seventy-eighth year.
 
 272 Memoir of F teeming Jenkin. 
 
 Thus, in the space of less than ten months, the 
 four seniors of this family were taken away ; but 
 taken with such features of opportunity in time 
 or pleasant courage in the sufferer, that grief 
 was tempered with a kind of admiration. The 
 effect on Fleeming was profound. His pious op- 
 timism increased and became touched with some- 
 thing mystic and filial. ' The grave is not gQod, 
 the approaches to it are terrible/ he had written 
 in the beginning of his mother's illness : he 
 thought so no more, when he had laid father 
 and mother side by side at Stowting. He had 
 always loved life ; in the brief time that now re- 
 mained to him, he seemed to be half in love with 
 death. ' Grief is no duty/ he wrote to Miss Bell ; 
 ' it was all too beautiful for grief/ he said to me ; 
 but the emotion, call it by what name we please, 
 shook him to his depths ; his wife thought he 
 would have broken his heart when he must de- 
 molish the Captain's trophy in the dining-room, 
 and he seemed thenceforth scarcely the same 
 man. 
 
 These last years were indeed years of an ex- 
 cessive demand upon his vitality; he was not 
 only worn out with sorrow, he was worn out by
 
 Telpherage. 273 
 
 hope. The singular invention to which he gave 
 the name of telpherage, had of late consumed 
 his time, overtaxed his strength and overheated 
 his imagination. The words in which he first 
 mentioned his discovery to me I am simply 
 Alnaschar' were not only descriptive of his 
 state of mind, they were in a sense prophetic ; 
 since whatever fortune may await his idea in the 
 future, it was not his to see it bring forth fruit. 
 Alnaschar he was indeed ; beholding about him 
 a world all changed, a world filled with telpher- 
 age wires ; and seeing not only himself and fam- 
 ily but all his friends enriched. It was his pleas- 
 ure, when the company was floated, to endow 
 those whom he liked with stock ; one, at least, 
 never knew that he was a possible rich man un- 
 til the grave had closed over his stealthy bene- 
 factor. And however Fleeming chafed among 
 material and business difficulties, this rainbow 
 vision never faded ; and he, like his father and his 
 mother, may bs said to have died upon a pleas- 
 ure. But the strain told, and he knew that it 
 was telling. ' I am becoming a fossil,' he had 
 written five years before, as a kind of plea for a 
 holiday visit to his beloved Italy. ' Take care !
 
 2 74 Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. 
 
 If I am Mr. Fossil, you will be Mrs. Fossil, and 
 Jack will be Jack Fossil, and all the boys will be 
 little fossils, and then we shall be a collection. 
 There was no fear more chimerical for Fleem- 
 ing ; years brought him no repose ; he was as 
 packed with energy, as fiery in hope, as at the 
 first ; weariness, to which he began to be no 
 stranger, distressed, it did not quiet him. He 
 feared for himself, not without ground, the fate 
 which had overtaken his mother ; others shared 
 the fear. In the changed life now made for his 
 family, the elders dead, the sons going from 
 home upon their education, even their tried 
 domestic (Mrs. Alice Dunns) leaving the house 
 after twenty-two years of service, it was not un- 
 natural that he should return to dreams of Italy. 
 He and his wife were to go (as he told me) on 
 ' a real honeymoon tour.' He had not been 
 alone with his wife ' to speak of,' he added, 
 since the birth of his children. But now he 
 was to enjoy the society of her to whom he 
 wrote, in these last days, that she was his 
 ' Heaven on earth.' Now he was to revisit 
 Italy, and see all the pictures and the build- 
 ings and the scenes that he admired so warmly,
 
 The End. 275 
 
 and lay aside for a time the irritations of his 
 strenuous activity. Nor was this all. A trifling 
 operation was to restore his former lightness of 
 foot ; and it was a renovated youth that was to 
 set forth upon this reenacted honeymoon. 
 
 The operation was performed; it was of a 
 trifling character, it seemed to go well, no fear 
 was entertained ; and his wife was reading aloud 
 to him as he lay in bed, when she perceived him 
 to wander in his mind. It is doubtful if he ever 
 recovered a sure grasp upon the things of life; and 
 he was still unconscious when he passed away, 
 June the twelfth, 1885, in the fifty-third year of 
 his age. He passed ; but something in his gal- 
 lant vitality had impressed itself upon his friends, 
 and still impresses. Not from one or two only, 
 but from many, I hear the same tale of how the 
 imagination refuses to accept our loss and in- 
 stinctively looks for his reappearing, and how 
 memory retains his voice and image like things of 
 yesterday. Others, the well-beloved too, die and 
 are progressively forgotten ; two years have pass- 
 ed since Fleeming was laid to rest beside his fa- 
 ther, his mother, and his Uncle John ; and the 
 thought and the look of our friend still haunt us.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 i. 
 
 NOTE ON THE CONTRIBUTIONS OF FLEEMING JENKIN 
 TO ELECTRICAL AND ENGINEERING SCIENCE. BY 
 SIR WILLIAM THOMSON, F.R.S., LL.D., ETC., ETC. 
 
 TN the beginning of the year 1859 my former colleague 
 (the first British University Professor of Engineer- 
 ing), Lewis Gordon, at that time deeply engaged in the 
 then new work of cable making and cable laying, came 
 to Glasgow to see apparatus for testing submarine 
 cables and signalling through them, which I had been 
 preparing for practical use on the first Atlantic cable, 
 and which had actually done service upon it, during the 
 six weeks of its successful working between Valencia 
 and Newfoundland. As soon as he had seen something 
 of what I had in hand, he said to me, ' I would like to 
 show this to a young man of remarkable ability, at pres- 
 ent engaged in our works at Birkenhead.' Fleeming 
 Jenkin was accordingly telegraphed for, and appeared 
 next morning in Glasgow. He remained for a week, 
 spending the whole day in my class-room and labora- 
 tory, and thus pleasantly began our lifelong acquaint- 
 ance. I was much struck, not only with his brightness 
 
 (277)
 
 2 ; 8 Appendix. 
 
 and ability, but with his resolution to understand every- 
 thing spoken of, to see if possible thoroughly through 
 every difficult question, and (no if about this !) to slur 
 over nothing. I soon found that thoroughness of hon- 
 esty was as strongly engrained in the scientific as in the 
 moral side of his character. 
 
 In the first week of our acquaintance, the electric 
 telegraph and, particularly, submarine cables, and the 
 methods, machines, and instruments for laying, test- 
 ing, and using them, formed naturally the chief subject 
 of our conversations and discussions ; as it was in fact 
 the practical object of Jenkin's visit to me in Glasgow ; 
 but not much of the week had passed before I found 
 him remarkably interested in science generally, and full 
 of intelligent eagerness on many particular questions 
 of dynamics and physics. When he returned from 
 Glasgow to Birkenhead a correspondence commenced 
 between us, which was continued without intermission 
 up to the last days of his life. It commenced with a 
 well-sustained fire of letters on each side about the 
 physical qualities of submarine cables, and the prac- 
 tical results attainable in the way of rapid signalling 
 through them. Jenkin used excellently the valuable 
 opportunities for experiment allowed him by Newall, 
 and his partner Lewis Gordon, at their Birkenhead fac- 
 tory. Thus he began definite scientific investigation 
 of the copper resistance of the conductor, and the in- 
 sulating resistance and specific inductive capacity of its 
 gutta-percha coating, in the factory, in various stages
 
 Appendix. 2 79 
 
 of manufacture ; and he was the very first to introduce 
 systematically into practice the grand system of abso- 
 lute measurement founded in Germany by Gauss and 
 Weber. The immense value of this step, if only in re- 
 spect to the electric telegraph, is amply appreciated by 
 all who remember or who have read something of the 
 history of submarine telegraphy; but it can scarcely be 
 known generally how much it is due to Jenkin. 
 
 Looking to the article ' Telegraph (Electric) ' in the 
 last volume of the old edition of the ' Encyclopaedia 
 Britannica,' which was published about the year 1861, 
 we find on record that Jenkin's measurements in abso- 
 lute units of the specific resistance of pure gutta-percha, 
 and of the gutta-percha with Chatterton's compound 
 constituting the insulation of the Red Sea cable of 1859, 
 are given as the only results in the way of absolute 
 measurements of the electric resistance of an insulat- 
 ing material which had then been made. These re- 
 marks are prefaced in the 'Encyclopaedia' article by 
 the following statement : ' No telegraphic testing ought 
 in future to be accepted in any department of tele- 
 graphic business which has not this definite character ; 
 although it is only within the last year that convenient 
 instruments for working, in absolute measure, have 
 been introduced at all, and the whole system of abso- 
 lute measure is still almost unknown to practical elec- 
 tricians.' 
 
 A particular result of great importance in respect to 
 testing is referred to as follows in the ' Encyclopaedia '
 
 280 Appendix. 
 
 article : ' The importance of having results thus stated 
 in absolute measure is illustrated by the circumstance, 
 that the writer has been able at once to compare them, 
 in the manner stated in a preceding paragraph, with 
 his own previous deductions from the testings of the 
 Atlantic cable during its manufacture in 1857, and with 
 Weber's measurements of the specific resistance of cop- 
 per.' It has now become universally adapted first of 
 all in England ; twenty-two years later by Germany, the 
 country of its birth ; and by France and Italy, and all 
 the other countries of Europe and America practical- 
 ly the whole scientific world at the Electrical Con- 
 gress in Paris in the years 1882 and 1884. 
 
 An important paper of thirty quarto pages published 
 in the ' Transactions of the Royal Society ' for June 19, 
 1862, under the title ' Experimental Researches on the 
 Transmission of Electric Signals through submarine 
 cables, Part I. Laws of Transmission through various 
 lengths of one cable, by Fleeming Jenkin, Esq., com- 
 municated by C. Wheatstone, Esq., F.R.S.,' contains an 
 account of a large part of Jenkin's experimental work 
 in the Birkenhead factory during the years 1859 and 
 1860. This paper is called Part I. Part II. alas never 
 appeared, but something that it would have included 
 we can see from the following ominous statement which 
 I find near the end of Part 1. : ' From this value, the 
 electrostatical capacity per unit of length and the 
 specific inductive capacity of the dielectric, could be 
 determined. These points will, however, be more fully
 
 Appendix. 281 
 
 treated of in the second part of this paper.' Jenkin 
 had in fact made a determination at Birkenhead of the 
 specific inductive capacity of gutta-percha, or of the 
 gutta-pencha and Chatterton's compound constituting 
 the insulation of the cable, on which he experimented. 
 This was the very first true measurement of the specific 
 :'nductive capacity of a dielectric which had been made 
 after the discovery by Faraday of the existence of tuv 
 property, and his primitive measurement of it for the 
 three substances, glass, shellac, and sulphur ; and at the 
 time when Jenkin made his measurements the existence 
 of specific inductive capacity was either unknown, or 
 ignored, or denied, by almost all the scientific authori- 
 ties of the day. 
 
 The original determination of the microfarad, brought 
 out under the auspices of the British Association Com- 
 mittee on Electrical Standards, is due to experimental 
 work by Jenkin, described in a paper, ' Experiments on 
 Capacity,' constituting No. IV. of the appendix to the 
 Report presented by the Committee to the Dundee 
 Meeting of 1867. No other determination, so far as I 
 know, of this important element of electric measure- 
 ment has hitherto been made ; and it is no small thing 
 to be proud of in respect to Jenkin's fame as a scientific 
 and practical electrician that the microfarad which we 
 now all use is his. 
 
 The British Association unit of electrical resistance, 
 on which was founded the first practical approximation 
 to absolute measurement on the system of Gauss and
 
 282 Appendix. 
 
 Weber, was largely due to Jenkin's zeal as one of the 
 originators, and persevering energy as a working mem- 
 ber, of the first Electrical Standards Committee. The 
 experimental work of first making practical standards, 
 founded on the absolute system, which led to the unit 
 now known as the British Association ohm, was chiefly 
 performed by Clerk Maxwell and Jenkin. The realisa- 
 tion of the great practical benefit which has resulted 
 from the experimental and scientific work of the Com- 
 mittee is certainly in a large measure due to Jenkin's 
 zeal and perseverance as secretary, and as editor of the 
 volume of Collected Reports of the work of the Com- 
 mittee, which extended over eight years, from 1861 till 
 1869. The volume of Reports included Jenkin's Cantor 
 Lectures of January, 1866, ' On Submarine Telegraphy,' 
 through which the practical applications of the scien- 
 tific principles for which he had worked so devotedly 
 for eight years became part of general knowledge in the 
 engineering profession. 
 
 Jenkin's scientific activity continued without abate- 
 ment to the end. For the last two years of his life 
 he was much occupied with a new mode of electric 
 locomotion, a very remarkable invention of his own, 
 to which he gave the name of ' Telpherage.' He per- 
 severed with endless ingenuity in carrying out the 
 numerous and difficult mechanical arrangements es- 
 sential to the project, up to the very last days of his 
 work in life. He had completed almost every detail of 
 the realisation of the system which was recently opened
 
 Appendix. 283 
 
 foi practical working at Glyndc, in Sussex, four months 
 alter his death. 
 
 { His book on ' Magnetism and Electricity,' published 
 as one of Longman's elementary series in 1873, marked 
 a new departure in the exposition of electricity, as the 
 first text-book containing a systematic application of 
 the quantitative methods inaugurated by the British 
 Association Committee on Electrical Standards. In 
 1883 the seventh edition was published, after there had 
 already appeared two foreign editions, one in Italian 
 and the other in German. 
 
 His papers on purely engineering subjects, though 
 not numerous, are interesting and valuable. Amongst 
 these may be mentioned the article ' Bridges,' written 
 by him for the ninth edition of the ' Encyclopaedia 
 Britannica,' and afterwards republished as a separate 
 treatise in 1876; and a paper 'On the Practical Appli- 
 cation of Reciprocal Figures to the Calculation of 
 Strains in Framework,' read before the Royal Society 
 of Edinburgh, and published in the ' Transactions ' of 
 that Society in 1869. But perhaps the most important 
 of all is his paper 'On the Application of Graphic 
 Methods to the Determination of the Efficiency of 
 Machinery,' read before the Royal Society of Edin- 
 burgh, and published in the 'Transactions,' vol. xxviii. 
 (1876-78), for which he was awarded the Keith Gold 
 Medal. This paper was a continuation of the subject 
 treated in ' Reulaux's Mechanism,' and, recognising the 
 value of that work, supplied the elements required to
 
 284 Appendix. 
 
 constitute from Reulaux's kinematic system a full 
 machine receiving energy and doing work. 
 
 II. 
 
 NOTE ON THE WORK OF Fl.EEMING JENKIN IN CON- 
 NECTION WITH SANITARY REFORM. BY LT. COL. 
 ALEXANDER FERGUSSON. 
 
 IT was, I believe, during the autumn of 1877 that there 
 came to Fleeming Jenkin the first inkling of an 
 idea, not the least in importance of the many that em- 
 anated from that fertile brain, which, with singular 
 rapidity, took root, and under his careful fostering ex- 
 panded into a scheme the fruits of which have been of 
 the utmost value to his fellow-citizens and others. 
 
 The phrase which afterwards suggested itself, and 
 came into use, ' Healthy houses,' expresses very hap- 
 pily the drift of this scheme, and the ultimate object 
 that Jenkin had in view. 
 
 In the summer of that year there had been much 
 talk, and some newspaper correspondence, on the sub- 
 ject of the unsatisfactory condition of many of the 
 best houses in Edinburgh as regards their sanitary 
 state. One gentleman, for example, drew an appalling 
 picture of a large and expensive house he had bought 
 in the West-end of Edinburgh, fresh from the builder's 
 hands. To ascertain precisely what was wrong, and 
 the steps to be taken to remedy the evils, the effects
 
 Appendix. 285 
 
 of which were but too apparent, obviously demanded 
 the expenditure of much time and careful study on the 
 part of the intelligent proprietor himself and the pro- 
 fessional experts he had to call in, and, it is needless 
 to add, much money. There came also, from the 
 poorer parts of the town, the cry that in many cases 
 the houses of our working people were built anyhow 
 that the dictates of a narrow economy suggested to 
 the speculative and irresponsible builder. The horrors 
 of what was called the ' Sandwich system,' amongst 
 other evils, were brought to light. It is sufficient to 
 say, generally, that this particular practice of the 
 builder consists in placing in a block of workmen's 
 houses, to save space and money, the water cisterns of 
 one flat, directly under the sanitary appliances of the 
 other, and so on to the top of a house of several 
 storeys. It is easy to conceive the abominations that 
 must ensue when the leakage of the upper floors be- 
 gins to penetrate to the drinking water below. The 
 picture was a hideous one, apart from the well-known 
 fact that a whole class of diseases is habitually spread 
 by contaminated water. 
 
 In October, 1876, a brisk and interesting discussion 
 had been carried on in the columns of the Times at 
 intervals during the greater part of that month, in 
 which the same subject, that of the health and sewage 
 of towns, had been dealt with by several writers well 
 informed in such matters. Amongst others, Professor 
 Jenkin himself took part, as did Professor G. F. Arm-
 
 286 Appendix. 
 
 strong, who now occupies the chair of Civil Engineer- 
 ing in Edinburgh. Many of the truths then advanced 
 had been recently discussed at a meeting of the Brit- 
 ish Association. 
 
 It was while such topics were attracting attention 
 that Fleeming Jenkin's family were shocked by the sad 
 intelligence of the loss that friends of theirs had sus- 
 tained in the deaths of several of their children from 
 causes that could be traced up to the unsanitary con- 
 dition of their house. Sympathy took the practical 
 form of an intense desire that something might be 
 done to mitigate the chance of such calamities ; and, 
 I am permitted to say, the result of a home-talk on this 
 subject was an earnest appeal to the head of the house 
 to turn his scientific knowledge to account in some 
 way that should make people's homes more healthy, 
 and their children's lives more safe. In answer to the 
 call Jenkin turned his thoughts in this direction. And 
 the scheme which I shall endeavour briefly to sketch 
 out was the result. 
 
 The obvious remedy for a faulty house is to call in a 
 skilful expert, architect or engineer, who will doubtless 
 point out by means of reports and plans what is wrong, 
 and suggest a remedy ; but, as remarked by Professor 
 Jenkin, ' it has not been the practice for leading en- 
 gineers to advise individuals about their house ar- 
 rangements, except where large outlay is in contem- 
 plation.' A point 5f very considerable importance in 
 such a case as that now supposed.
 
 Appendix. 287 
 
 The problem was to ensure to the great body of the 
 citizens sound professional advice concerning their 
 houses, such as had hitherto been only obtainable at 
 great cost but ' with due regard to economical con- 
 siderations.' 
 
 The advantages of co-operation are patent to all 
 Everyone can understand how, if a sufficient number 
 of persons combine, there are few luxuries or advan- 
 tages that are not within their reach, for a moderate 
 payment. The advice of a first-rate engineer regard- 
 ing a dwelling-house was a palpable advantage ; but 
 within the reach of comparatively few. One has heard 
 of a winter in Madeira being prescribed as the cure 
 for a poor Infirmary sufferer. 
 
 Like most good plans Jenkin's scheme was simple in 
 the extreme, and consisted in combination and a small 
 subscription. 
 
 Just,' he says, 'as the leading physician of the day 
 may give his services to great numbers of poor patients 
 when these are gathered in a hospital, although he 
 could not practically visit them in their own houses, 
 so the simple fact of a number of clients gathered into 
 a group will enable the leading engineer to give them 
 the benefit of his advice.' 
 
 But it was his opinion that only ' continual super- 
 vision could secure the householder from danger due 
 to defects in sanitary appliances.' He had in his eye a 
 case precisely similar. The following passage in one of 
 bis first lectures, afterwards repeated frequently, conveys
 
 288 Appendix. 
 
 the essence of Professor Jenkin's theory, as well as ? 
 graceful acknowledgment of the source from which 
 this happy idea was derived : 
 
 'An analogous case occurred to him/ he said, 'in 
 the "Steam Users' Association," in Lancashire. So 
 many boilers burst in that district for want of inspec- 
 tion that an association was formed for having the 
 boilers under a continual course of inspection. Let a 
 perfect boiler be bought from a first-rate maker, the 
 owner has then an apparatus as perfect as it is now 
 sought to make the sanitary appliances in his house. 
 But in the course of time the boiler must decay. The 
 prudent proprietor, therefore, joins the Steam-boiler 
 Association, which, from time to time, examines his 
 boiler, and by the tests they apply are able to give an 
 absolute guarantee against accident. This idea of an 
 inspection by an association was due,' the lecturer con- 
 tinued, ' to Sir William Fairbairn, under whom he had 
 the honour of serving his apprenticeship.' ' The steam 
 users were thus absolutely protected from danger ; and 
 the same idea it was sought to apply to the sanitary 
 system of a house. 
 
 To bring together a sufficient number of persons, to 
 form such a ' group ' as had been contemplated, was 
 the first step to be taken. No time was lost in taking 
 it. The idea hitherto roughly blocked out was now 
 given a more definite form. The original sketch, as 
 
 1 See paper read at the Congress of the Social Science Associa- 
 tion, Edinburgh, October 8, iSSo.
 
 Appendix. 289 
 
 dictated by Jenkin himself, is before me, and I cannot 
 do better than transcribe it, seeing it is short and sim- 
 ple. Several important alterations were afterwards 
 made by himself in consultation with one or two of his 
 Provisional Council ; and as experience suggested : 
 
 ' The objects of this Association are twofold. 
 
 ' I. By taking advantage of the principle of co- 
 operation, to provide its members at moderate cost 
 with such advice and supervision as shall ensure the 
 proper sanitary condition of their own dwellings. 
 
 ' 2. By making use of specially qualified officers to sup 
 port the inhabitants and local authorities in enforcing 
 obedience to the provisions of those laws and by-laws 
 which affect the sanitary condition of the community. 
 
 ' It is proposed that an Association with these ob- 
 jects be formed; and that all residents within the 
 municipal boundaries of Edinburgh be eligible as 
 members. That each member of the Association shall 
 subscribe one guinea annually. That in return for the 
 annual subscription each member shall be entitled to 
 the following advantages : 
 
 ' i. A report by the Engineer of the Association on 
 the sanitary condition of his dwelling, with specific rec- 
 ommendations as to the improvement of drainage, ven- 
 tilation, &c., should this be found necessary. 
 
 ' 2. The supervision of any alterations in the sanitary 
 fittings of his dwelling which may be carried out by the 
 advice, or with the approval, of the officers of the As- 
 sociation.
 
 290 Appendix. 
 
 ' 3. An annual inspection of his premises by the En- 
 gineer of the Association, with a report as to their sani- 
 tary condition. 
 
 '4. The right, in consideration of a payment of five 
 shillings, of calling on the Engineer, and legal adviser ' 
 of the Association to inspect and report on the exist- 
 ence of any infraction or supposed infraction of any 
 law affecting the sanitary condition of the community. 
 
 ' It is proposed that the Association should be man- 
 aged by an unpaid Council, to be selected by ballot 
 from among its members. 
 
 ' That the following salaried officers be engaged by 
 the Association : 
 
 ' i. One or more acting engineers, who should give 
 their services exclusively to the Association. 
 
 '2. A consulting engineer, who should exercise a 
 general supervision, and advise both on the general 
 principles to be followed, and on difficult cases. 
 
 ' 3. A legal agent, to be engaged on such terms as 
 the Council shall hereafter think fit. 
 
 '4. A permanent secretary. 
 
 ' It is also proposed that the officers of the Associa- 
 tion should, with the sanction of the Council, have 
 power to take legal proceedings against persons who 
 shall, in their opinion, be guilty of any infraction of 
 sanitary regulations in force throughout the district ; 
 and generally it is intended that the Association shall 
 
 i It was ultimately agreed not to appoint an officer of this kind till 
 occasion should arise for his services ; cone has been appointed.
 
 Appendix. 291 
 
 further and promote ail undertakings which, in their 
 opinion, are calculated to improve the sanitary crmdi 
 tion of Edinburgh and its immediate neighbourhood. 
 
 ' In one aspect this Association will be analogous to 
 the Steam Boiler Users' Association, who co-operate 
 in the employment of skilled inspectors. In a second 
 aspect it will be analogous to the Association for the 
 Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, which assists the 
 community in enforcing obedience to existing laws.' 
 
 Towards the end of November, 1877, this paper was 
 handed about among those who v/ere thought most 
 likely, from their position and public spirit, to forward 
 such a scheme, so clearly for the good of the commu- 
 nity. Nay more, a systematic 'canvass' was set on 
 foot ; personal application the most direct was made 
 use of. The thing was new, and its advantages not 
 perfectly obvious to all at a glance. Everyone who 
 knows with what enthusiastic earnestness Jenkin 
 would take hold of, and insist upon, what he felt to 
 be wholesome and right will understand how he per- 
 sisted, how he patiently explained, and swept away ob- 
 jections that were raised. One could not choose but 
 listen, and understand, and agree. 
 
 On the evening of 2nd January, 1878, or, to be more 
 correct, the morning of the 3rd, two old school-fellows 
 of his at the Edinburgh Academy walked home with 
 him from an annual dinner of their ' Class.' All the 
 way in glowing language he expounded his views of 
 house inspection, and the protection of health, asking
 
 292 Appendix. 
 
 for sympathy. It was most readily given, and they 
 parted from him with pleasant words of banter re- 
 garding this vision of his of grafting 'cleanliness* 
 upon another quality said to be a growth, in some 
 sort, of this northern land of ours. 
 
 But they reckoned hardly sufficiently on the fact 
 that when Jenkin took a thing of this kind in hand it 
 must be ; if it lay within the scope of a clear head and 
 boundless energy. 
 
 Having secured a nucleus of well-wishers, the next 
 step was to enlist the sympathies of the general public. 
 It was sought to effect this by a series of public lec- 
 tures. The first of these (one of two) was given on 
 22nd January under the auspices of the Edinburgh 
 Philosophical Institution. It was apparent to the 
 shrewd lecturer that in bringing before the people a 
 scheme like this, where there was much that was 
 novel, it was necessary first of all that his audience 
 should be aware of the evils to which they were ex- 
 posed in their own houses, before unfolding a plan for 
 a remedy. The correspondence already referred to as 
 having been carried on in the summer of the previous 
 year had shown how crude were the ideas of many per- 
 sons well informed, or considered to be so, on this sub- 
 ject. For example, there are few now-a-days who are 
 not aware that a drain, to be safe, must have at inter- 
 vals along its course openings to the upper air, or that 
 it must be 'ventilated,' as the phrase goes. But at the 
 time spoken of there were some who went so far as 10
 
 Appendix. 293 
 
 question this principle; even to argue against it; call- 
 ing forth this forcible reply ' Here is a pretty farce. 
 You pour out a poison and send it off on its way to the 
 sea, and forget that on its way there its very essence 
 will take wings and fly back into your house up the very 
 pipes it but recently ran down.' A properly ' trapped ' 
 and ventilated drain was the cure for this. 
 
 And the lecturer proceeded to show that in Edin- 
 burgh, where for the most part house construction is 
 good and solid, but, as in other towns, the bulk of the 
 houses were built when the arrangements for internal 
 sewerage and water supply were very little understood, 
 many serious errors were made. ' But,' the lecturer 
 went on to say, ' Sanitary Science was now established 
 on a fairly sound basis, and the germ theory, or theory 
 of septic ferments, had explained much which used to 
 be obscure. This theory explained how it was that 
 families might in certain cases live with fair health for 
 many years in the midst of great filth, while the dwell- 
 ers in large and apparently clean mansions were struck 
 down by fever and diphtheria. The filth which was 
 found compatible with health was always isolated filth, 
 and until the germs of some specific disease were in- 
 troduced, this dirt was merely injurious, not poisonous. 
 The mansions which were apparently clean and yet 
 fever-visited were found to be those in which arrange- 
 ments had been made for the removal of offensive 
 matter, which arrangements served also to distribute 
 poison germs from one house to another, from one
 
 294 Appendix. 
 
 room to another. These mansions had long suckers 
 extended from one to another through the common 
 sewer. Through these suckers, commonly called 
 " house drains," they imbibed every taint which any 
 one house in the system could supply. In fact, arrange- 
 ments were too often made which simply " laid on " 
 poison to bed-rooms just as gas or water was laid on. 
 He had known an intelligent person declare that no 
 harm could come up a certain pipe which ended in 
 a bed-room, because nothing offensive went down. 
 That person had never realised the fact that his pipe 
 joined another pipe, which again joined a sewer, which 
 again whenever there was an epidemic in the neigh- 
 bourhood, received innumerable poison germs ; and that, 
 although nothing more serious than scented soap and 
 water went down, the germs of typhoid fever might 
 any day come up.' 
 
 Professor Jenkin then proceeded to show how a 
 house might be absolutely cut off from all contami- 
 nation from these sources of evil. Then by means of 
 large diagrams he showed the several systems of pipes 
 within a house. One system coloured red showed the 
 pipes that received foul matter. A system marked in 
 blue showed pipes used to ventilate this red system. 
 The essential conditions of safety in the internal fit- 
 tings of a house it was inculcated were that no air to 
 be breathed, no water to be drunk, should ever be 
 contaminated by connection with red or blue systems. 
 Then in yellow were shown the pipes which received
 
 Appendix. 295 
 
 dirty .vater, which was not necessarily foul. Lastly a 
 white system, which under no circumstances must ever 
 touch the ' red,' ' blue,' or ' yellow ' systems. Such a 
 diagram recalled the complicated anatomical drawings 
 which illustrate the system of arteries and veins in the 
 human frame. Little wonder, then, that one gentle- 
 man remarked, in' perplexity, that he had not room in 
 his house for such a mass of pipes ; but they were al- 
 ready there, with other pipes besides, all carefully hid- 
 den away, as in the human tenement, with the inevi- 
 table result as the preacher of cleanliness and health 
 declared ' out of sight, out of mind.' 
 
 In plain and forcible language were demonstrated 
 the ills this product of modern life is heir to ; and the 
 drastic measures that most of them demand to secure 
 the reputation of a healthy house. Lastly the for- 
 mation of an Association to carry out the idea (already 
 sketched) cheaply, was briefly introduced. 
 
 Next morning, January 23rd, was the moment chosen 
 to lay the scheme formally before the public. In all 
 the Edinburgh newspapers, along with lengthy reports 
 of the lecture, appeared, in form of an advertisement, 
 a statement l of the scheme and its objects, supported 
 
 1 Briefly stated, the points submitted in this prospectus were these : 
 
 1. That the proposed Association was a Society for the benefit of 
 its members and the community that cannot be used foi any purposes 
 of profit. 
 
 2. The privileges of members include the annual inspection ol 
 their premises, as well as a preliminary report on their condition 
 with an estimate of the cost of any alterations recommended.
 
 296 Appendix. 
 
 by an imposing array of ' Provisional Council.' In due 
 course several of the Scots newspapers and others, 
 such as the Building News, gave leading articles, all of 
 them directing attention to this new thing, as ' an in- 
 teresting experiment about to be tried in Edinburgh,' 
 ' what promises to be a very useful sanitary movement, 
 now being organised, and an example set that may be 
 worthy of imitation elsewhere,' and so on. 
 
 Several of the writers waxed eloquent on the sin- 
 gular ingenuity of the scheme ; the cheap professional 
 advice to its adherents, &c. ; and the rare advantages 
 to be gained by means of co-operation and the tra- 
 ditional 'one pound one.' 
 
 The Provisional Council was absolutely representa- 
 tive of the community, and included names more than 
 sufficient to inspire confidence. It included the Lord- 
 Lieutenant of the county, Lord Rosebery; the Lord 
 Justice Clerk, Lord Moncrieff ; the Lord Advocate ; 
 Sir Robert Christison ; several of the Judges of the 
 Court of Session ; the Presidents of the Colleges of 
 Physicians, and of Surgeons ; many of the Professors 
 of the University ; the Bishop of Edinburgh, and the 
 
 3. The skilled inspection from time to time of drains and all san- 
 itary arrangements. 
 
 4. No obligation on the part of members to carry out any of the 
 suggestions made by the engineers of the Association, who merely 
 give skilled advice when such is desired. 
 
 5. The officers of the Association to have no interest in any out- 
 lay recommended. 
 
 6. The Association might be of great service to the poorer mem- 
 bers of the community.
 
 Appendix. 297 
 
 Dean ; several of the best known of the Clergy of the 
 Church of Scotland, Established, Free, and of other 
 branches ; one or two members of Parliament ; more 
 than one lady (who should have been perhaps men- 
 tioned earlier on this list) well known for large views 
 and public spirit ; several well-known country gentle- 
 men; one or two distinguished civil engineers and 
 architects ; and many gentlemen of repute for intelli- 
 gence and business qualities. 
 
 Very soon after the second of the promised lectures, 
 the members of the new Society began to be num- 
 bered by hundreds. By the 28th of February, 500 sub- 
 scribers having been enrolled, they were in a position 
 to hold their first regular meeting under the presidency 
 of Sir Robert Christison, when a permanent Council 
 composed of many of those who had from the first 
 shown an interest in the movement for example, Pro- 
 fessor (now Sir Douglas) Maclagan and Lord Dean of 
 Guild (now Sir James) Gowans, Professor Jenkin him- 
 self undertaking the duties of Consulting Engineer 
 were appointed. And Jenkin was singularly for- 
 tunate in securing as Secretary the late Captain 
 Charles Douglas, a worker as earnest as himself. It 
 was the theory of the originator that the Council, 
 composed of leading men not necessarily possessed of 
 engineering knowledge, should 'give a guarantee to 
 the members that the officials employed should have 
 been carefully selected, and themselves work under 
 supervision. Every householder in this town,' he
 
 298 Appendix. 
 
 adds, 'knows the names of the gentlemen composing 
 our Council.' 
 
 The new Association was a success alike in town and 
 country. Without going far into statistics it will be 
 evident what scope there was, and is, for such opera- 
 tions when it is stated that last year (1885) 60 per cent. 
 of the houses inspected in London and its neighbour- 
 hood were found to have foul air escaping direct into 
 them, and 81 per cent, had their sanitary appliances in 
 an unsatisfactory state. Here in Edinburgh things 
 were little, if any, better ; as for the country houses, the 
 descriptions of some were simply appalling. As the 
 new Association continued its operations it became 
 the rdle of the Consulting Engineer to note such objec- 
 tions, hypothetical or real, as were raised against the 
 working of his scheme. Some of these were ingenious 
 enough : but all were replied to in order, and satis- 
 factorily resolved. It was shown, for example, that 
 you might have a dinner party in your house on the 
 day of your inspection '; that the Association worked in 
 the utmost harmony with the city authorities, and with 
 the tradesmen usually employed in such business; and 
 that the officials were as 'confidential' as regards the 
 infirmities of a house as any physician consulted by a 
 patient. The strength of the engineering staff has 
 been varied from time to time as occasion required ; at 
 the moment of writing employment is found in Edin- 
 burgh and country districts in various parts of Scotland 
 *OT five engineers temporarily or permanently engaged.
 
 Appendix. 299 
 
 The position Jenkin claimed for the Engineers was a 
 high one, but not too high : thus he well defined it: 
 
 ' In respect of Domestic Sanitation the business of 
 the Engineer and that of the medical man overlap ; for 
 while it is the duty of the engineer to learn from the 
 doctor what conditions are necessary to secure health, 
 the engineer may, nevertheless, claim in his turn the 
 privilege of assisting in the warfare against disease by 
 using his professional skill to determine what mechan- 
 ical and constructive arrangements are best adapted to 
 secure these conditions.' ' 
 
 Flattery in the form of imitation followed in due 
 course. A branch was established at St. Andrews, and 
 one of the earliest of similar institutions was founded 
 at Newport in the United States. Another sprang up 
 at Wolverhampton. In 1881 two such societies were 
 announced as having been set on foot in London. And 
 the Times of April I4th, in a leading article of some 
 length, drew attention to the special features of the 
 plan which it was stated had followed close upon a 
 paper read by Professor Fleeming Jenkin before the 
 Society of Arts in the preceding month of January. 
 The adherents included such names as those of Sir 
 William Gull, Professor Huxley, Professor Burdon 
 Sanderson, and Sir Joseph Fayrer. The Saturday Re- 
 view, in January, had already in a characteristic article 
 enforced the principles of the scheme, and shown how, 
 for a small annual payment, ' the helpless and hope- 
 > Healthy Houses, \f? Professor Fleeming JenkiHi p. 54.
 
 300 Appendix. 
 
 less condition of the householder at the mercy of the 
 plumber' might be for ever changed. 
 
 The London Association, established on the lines of 
 the parent society, has been followed by many others 
 year by year ; amongst these are Bradford, Chelten- 
 ham, Glasgow, and Liverpool in 1882 ; Bedford, Bright- 
 on, and Newcastle in 1883; Bath, Cambridge, Cardiff, 
 Dublin, and Dundee in 1884; and Swansea in 1885; and 
 while we write the first steps are being taken, with help 
 from Edinburgh, to establish an association at Mon- 
 treal ; sixteen Associations. 
 
 Almost, it may be said, a bibliography has been 
 achieved for Fleeming Jenkin's movement. 
 
 In 1878 was published Healthy Houses (Edin., David 
 Douglas), being the substance of the two lectures already 
 mentioned as having been delivered in Edinburgh with 
 the intention of laying open the idea of the scheme 
 then in contemplation, with a third addressed to the 
 Medico-Chirurgical Society. This book has been long 
 out of print, and such has been the demand for it that 
 the American edition ' is understood to be also out of 
 print, and unobtainable. 
 
 In 1880 was printed (London, Spottiswoode & Co.) 
 a pamphlet entitled What is the Best Mode of Amend- 
 ing the Present Laws with Reference to Existing Build- 
 
 1 It is perhaps worth mentioning as a curiosity of literature that 
 the American publishers who produced this book in the States, with- 
 out consulting the author, afterwards sent him a handsome cheque,
 
 Appendix. 301 
 
 ings, and also of Improving their Sanitary Condition 
 with due Regard to Economical Considerations I the 
 substance of a paper read by Professor Jenkin at the 
 Congress of the Social Science Association at Edin- 
 burgh in October of that year. 
 
 The first item of Health Lectures for the People 
 (Edin., 1881) consists of a discourse on the 'Care of 
 the Body ' delivered by Professor Jenkin in the Watt 
 Institution at Edinburgh, in which the theories of 
 he use sanitation are dwelt on. 
 
 House Inspection, reprinted from the Sanitary Record, 
 was issued in pamphlet form in 1882. And another 
 small tract, Houses of the Poor; their Sanitary Arrange- 
 ment, in 1885. 
 
 In this connection it may be said that while the idea 
 formulated by Jenkin has been carried out with a meas- 
 ure of success that could hardly have been foreseen, 
 in one point only, it may be noted, has expectation 
 oeen somewhat disappointed as regards the good that 
 these Associations should have effected and the fact 
 was constantly deplored by the founder namely, the 
 comparative failure as a means of improving the con- 
 dition of the dwellings of the poorer classes. It was 
 ' hoped that charity and public spirit would have used 
 the Association to obtain reports on poor tenements, 
 and to remedy the most glaring evils.' ' 
 
 1 It is true, handsome tenements for working people have been 
 built, such as the picturesque group of houses erected with this ob- 
 ject bv a member of the Council of the Edinburgh Sanitary Asso
 
 302 Appendix. 
 
 The good that these associations have effected is not 
 to be estimated by the numbers of their membership. 
 They have educated the public on certain points. The 
 fact that they exist has become generally known, and, 
 by consequence, persons of all classes are induced to 
 satisfy themselves of the reasons for the existence of 
 such institutions, and thus they learn of the evils that 
 have called them into being. 
 
 Builders, burgh engineers, and private individuals in 
 any way connected with the construction of dwellings 
 in town or country have been put upon their mettle, 
 and constrained to keep themselves abreast with the 
 wholesome truths which the engineering staff of all 
 these Sanitary Associations are the means of dissem- 
 inating. 
 
 In this way, doubtless, some good may indirectly 
 nave been done to poorer tenements, though not ex- 
 actly in the manner contemplated by the founder. 
 
 Now, if it be true that Providence helps those who 
 help themselves, surely a debt of gratitude is due to 
 him who has placed (as has been attempted to be shown 
 in this brief narrative) the means of self-help and the 
 attainment of a palpable benefit within the reach of all 
 through the working of a simple plan, whose motto 
 well may be, ' Healthy Houses '; and device a strangled 
 snake. A. F. 
 
 ciation, at Bell's Mills, so well seen from the Dean Bridge, where 
 every appliance that science can suggest has been made use of. But 
 for the ordinary houses of the poor the advice of the Association's 
 engineers lias been but rarely taken advantage of.
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
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