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diff --git a/old/54703-0.txt b/old/54703-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e608ee8..0000000 --- a/old/54703-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12887 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Things to be Remembered in Daily Life, by John Timbs - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Things to be Remembered in Daily Life - With Personal Experiences and Recollections - -Author: John Timbs - -Release Date: May 11, 2017 [EBook #54703] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THINGS TO BE REMEMBERED *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Elizabeth Oscanyan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - THINGS - - TO BE REMEMBERED - - IN DAILY LIFE. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - LONDON: - - PRINTED BY ROBSON, LEVEY, AND FRANKLYN, - - Great New Street and Fetter Lane. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THINGS - TO BE REMEMBERED - In Daily Life. - - WITH PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AND RECOLLECTIONS. - - - By JOHN TIMBS, F.S.A., - AUTHOR OF THINGS NOT GENERALLY KNOWN, CURIOSITIES OF LONDON, ETC. - - [Illustration: Sundial with children around base] - - LONDON: - W. KENT AND CO., PATERNOSTER-ROW. - - MDCCCLXIII. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TO THE READER. - - -------------- - -TIME and Human Life are the staple subjects of the following pages. -These are great matters for so small a book, and may remind you of the -philosophical scheme of compressing the world into a nutshell. Now, -although we have as yet no means of determining exactly what relation -this latter idea has to truth,—it is certain that the rapid -multiplication of books incessantly presses upon us, that “condensation -is the result of time and experience, which reject what is no longer -essential.” Such is the treatment adopted in the present volume, in -which, by _focusing_ great truths from the Living and the Dead, is -sought to be exemplified the moral couplet: - - - Honour and shame from no condition rise; - Act well your part—there all the honour lies. - -As a companion volume to _Things not Generally Known_, it is hoped that -_Things to be Remembered_ may be as popularly received as its -predecessor. To render the present work more directly of practical -application, the sketches of character which it contains have been drawn -in great measure from our own time, so as to give the book a current -interest. Meanwhile, historic gossip has not been eschewed; but its -piquancy has been sparingly used. - -The present is, in many respects, a more reflective volume than its -predecessor: for it is scarcely possible to illustrate the Ages of Man -without - - Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. - -This is one of the byways of the book: its highway lies through the -crowded city, and upon “the full tide of human affairs;” and the -Experiences here set down are, in common parlance, _original_, and have -been chiefly garnered throughout a long life, in which truthful -observation has been the cardinal aim. - -With these few words of introduction, I commend to your indulgence this -volume of _Things to be Remembered in Daily Life_, in the hope that its -contents may be considered worthy of the reminiscence. - - _London, March 1863._ - - - - - -------------- - - - ERRATUM. - -Page 20. The Terrace, New Palace-yard, Westminster, was taken down in -the spring of 1863; the Sun-dial had previously been removed. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS. - - -------------- - - - Time. - - PAGE - POETRY OF TIME 1 - WHAT IS TIME? 3 - TIME’S BEGUILINGS 5 - TIME’S GARLAND 6 - TIME’S MUTATIONS 7 - SIR H. DAVY ON TIME 8 - TIME, PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE 9 - MEASUREMENT OF TIME 12 - PERIODS OF REST 15 - RECKONING DISTANCE BY TIME 16 - SUN-DIALS 17 - THE HOUR-GLASS 27 - CLOCKS AND WATCHES 29 - EARLY RISING 41 - ART OF EMPLOYING TIME 52 - TIME AND ETERNITY 64 - - - Life, and Length of Days. - - LIFE A RIVER 65 - THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE 66 - THE FIRST TWENTY YEARS OF LIFE 67 - PASSING GENERATIONS 68 - AVERAGE DURATION OF LIFE 71 - PASTIMES OF CHILDHOOD RECREATIVE TO MAN 72 - PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION LATE IN LIFE 73 - WHAT IS MEMORY? 75 - CONSOLATION IN GROWING OLD 76 - LENGTH OF DAYS 79 - HISTORIC TRADITIONS THROUGH FEW LINKS 82 - LONGEVITY IN FAMILIES 87 - FEMALE LONGEVITY 88 - LONGEVITY AND DIET 92 - LONGEVITY AND LOCALITIES 96 - LONGEVITY OF CLASSES 102 - GREAT AGES 111 - THE HAPPY OLD MAN 114 - PREPARATORY TO DEATH 115 - DEATH BEFORE ADAM 116 - FUTURE EARTHLY EXISTENCE OF THE HUMAN RACE 117 - - - The School of Life. - - WHAT IS EDUCATION? 119 - TEACHING YOUNG CHILDREN 120 - EDUCATION AT HOME 121 - TENDERNESS OF YOUTH 122 - BUSINESS OF EDUCATION 123 - THE CLASSICS 124 - LIBERAL EDUCATION 126 - DR. ARNOLD’S SCHOOL REFORM 127 - SCHOOL INDULGENCE 128 - UNSOUND TEACHING 128 - SELF-FORMATION 131 - PRACTICAL DISCIPLINE 132 - CRAMMING 132 - MATHEMATICS 133 - ARISTOTLE 134 - GEOLOGY IN EDUCATION 135 - THE BEST EDUCATION 137 - ADVICE TO THE STUDENT 138 - KNOWLEDGE AND WISDOM 139 - EDUCATION ALARMISTS 140 - YORKSHIRE SCHOOLS 141 - BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG 141 - THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE 142 - WHAT IS ARGUMENT? 144 - HANDWRITING 145 - ENGLISH STYLE 147 - ART OF WRITING 149 - - - Business-Life. - - WANT OF A PURSUIT 152 - THE ENGLISH CHARACTER 153 - WORTH OF ENERGY 154 - TEST OF GREATNESS 156 - CHOICE OF A PROFESSION 157 - OFFICIAL LIFE 161 - OFFICIAL QUALIFICATIONS 164 - PUBLIC SPEAKING 166 - OPPORTUNITY 174 - MEN OF BUSINESS 174 - CHARACTER THE BEST SECURITY 176 - ENGINEERS AND MECHANICIANS 177 - SCIENTIFIC FARMING 187 - LARGE FORTUNES 188 - CIVIC WORTHIES 199 - WORKING AUTHORS AND ARTISTS 204 - WEAR AND TEAR OF PUBLIC LIFE 217 - - - Home Traits. - - LOVE OF HOME 218 - FAMILY PORTRAITS 219 - HOW TO KEEP FRIENDS 220 - SMALL COURTESIES 221 - LASTING FRIENDSHIPS 221 - TRUE TONE OF POLITE WRITING 223 - PRIDE AND MEANNESS 224 - HOME THOUGHTS 225 - - - The Spirit of the Age. - - PROGRESS OF KNOWLEDGE 227 - SCIENTIFIC PROGRESS 229 - TIME AND IMPROVEMENT 231 - EVIL INFLUENCES 232 - WORLDLY MORALITY 233 - SPEAKING THE TRUTH 234 - RESTLESSNESS AND ENTERPRISE 235 - THE PRESENT AND THE PAST 238 - CIRCUMSTANCES AND GENIUS 238 - OUR UNIMAGINATIVE AGE 239 - MARVELS OF THE UNIVERSE 240 - PHYSIOGNOMY 242 - TRADE AND PHILANTHROPY 243 - - - World-Knowledge. - - MISCELLANEA 244 - PREDICTIONS OF SUCCESS 247 - - - Conclusion. - - EASE OF MIND 250 - THE LIFE OF MAN 251 - THE GOOD MAN’S LIFE 253 - PREDICTIONS OF FLOWERS 255 - THE WORLD’S CYCLES 256 - DEATH ALL-ELOQUENT 256 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THINGS TO BE REMEMBERED. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Time. - -THE conventional personification of Time, with which every one is -familiar, is the figure of Saturn, god of Time, represented as an old -man, holding a scythe in his hand, and a serpent with its tail in its -mouth, emblematical of the revolutions of the year: sometimes he carries -an hour-glass, occasionally winged; to him is attributed the invention -of the scythe. He is bald, except a lock on the forehead; hence Swift -says: “Time is painted with a lock before, and bald behind, signifying -thereby that we must take him (as we say) by the forelock; for when it -is once passed, there is no recalling it.” - -The scythe occurs in Shirley’s lines, written early in the seventeenth -century: - - The glories of our blood and state - Are shadows, not substantial things; - There is no armour against fate; - Death lays his icy hand on kings. - Sceptre and crown - Must tumble down, - And in the dust be equal made - With the poor crooked scythe and spade. - -Shakspeare prefers the scythe: - - Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, - And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow, - Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth, - And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow. - -The stealthiness of his flight is also told by Shakspeare: - - Let’s take the instant by the forward top; - For we are old, and our quick’st decrees - The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time - Steals ere we can effect them. - -Mayne thus quaintly describes his flight: - - Time is the feather’d thing, - And whilst I praise - The sparklings of thy locks, and call them rays, - Takes wing— - Leaving behind him, as he flies, - An unperceived dimness in thine eyes. - -Gascoigne also thus paints the flight: - - The heavens on high perpetually do move; - By minutes’ meal the hour doth steal away, - By hours the days, by days the months remove, - And then by months the years as fast decay; - Yea, Virgil’s verse and Tully’s truth do say, - That Time flieth, and never clasps her wings; - But rides on clouds, and forward still she flings. - -Shakspeare pictures him as the fell destroyer: - - Misshapen time, copesmate of ugly night; - Swift subtle post, carrier of grisly care; - Eater of youth, false slave to false delight, - Base watch of woes, sin’s pack-horse, virtue’s snare: - Thou nursest all, and murderest all that are. - -And Spenser brands him as - - Wicked Time, that all good thoughts doth waste, - And workes of noblest wits to naught outweare. - -The present section partakes much of the aphoristic character, which has -its recommendatory advantages.—Bacon says: “Aphorisms representing a -knowledge broken do invite men to inquire further; whereas methods, -carrying the show of a total, do secure men as if they were at -farthest.” Again: “Nor do apophthegms only serve for ornament and -delight, but also for action and civil use, as being the edge-tools of -speech, which cut and penetrate the knots of business and affairs.” - -Coleridge is of opinion that, exclusively of the Abstract Sciences, the -largest and worthiest portion of our knowledge consists of Aphorisms; -and the greatest and best of men is but an Aphorism. - -“Truths, of all others the most awful and interesting, are too often -considered as so true, that they lose all the power of truth, and lie -bedridden in the dormitory of the soul, side by side with the most -despised and exploded errors. - -“There is one way of giving freshness and importance to the most -commonplace maxims,—that of reflecting on them in direct reference to -our own state and conduct, to our own past and future being.” - -Mature and sedate wisdom has been fond of summing up the results of its -experience in weighty sentences. Solomon did so; the wise men of India -and Greece did so; Bacon did so; Goethe in his old age took delight in -doing so. - -Lucretius has his philosophical view of Time, which Creech has thus -Englished: - - Time of itself is nothing, but from Thought - Receives its rise, by lab’ring fancy wrought - From things consider’d, while we think on some - As present, some as past, or yet to come. - No thought can think on Time, - But thinks on things in motion or at rest. - -Ovid has some illustrations, which Dryden has thus translated: - - Nature knows - No steadfast motion, but or ebbs or flows. - Ever in motion, she destroys her old, - And casts new figures in another mould. - Even times are in perpetual flux, and run, - Like rivers from their fountains rolling on. - For Time, no more than streams, is at a stay,— - The flying hour is ever on her way; - And as the fountain still supplies her store, - The wave behind impels the wave before; - Thus in successive course the minutes run, - And urge their predecessor minutes on, - Still moving, ever anew; for former things - Are set aside, like abdicated kings; - And every moment alters what is done, - And innovates some act till then unknown. - * * * * - Time is th’ effect of motion, born a twin, - And with the worlds did equally begin: - Time, like a stream that hastens from the shore, - Flies to an ocean where ’tis known no more: - All must be swallow’d in this endless deep, - And motion rest in everlasting sleep. - * * * * - Time glides along with undiscover’d haste, - The future but a length behind the past, - So swift are years. - * * * * - Thy teeth, devouring Time! thine, envious Age! - On things below still exercise your rage; - With venom’d grinders you corrupt your meat, - And then, at ling’ring meals, the morsels eat. - -The comparison to a river is more amply developed by a modern poet: - - The lapse of time and rivers is the same: - Both speed their journey with a restless stream; - The silent pace with which they steal away, - No wealth can bribe, no prayers persuade to stay: - Alike irrevocable both when past, - And a wide ocean swallows both at last. - Though each resembles each in every part, - A difference strikes, at length, the musing heart: - Streams never flow in vain; where streams abound, - How laughs the land with various plenty crown’d! - But time, that should enrich the nobler mind, - Neglected, leaves a dreary waste behind. - -An old playwright makes him a fisher by the stream: - - Nay, dally not with time, the wise man’s treasure, - Though fools are lavish on’t—the fatal fisher - Hooks souls, while we waste moments. - -Horace has some lines, thus paraphrased by Oldham: - - Alas! dear friend, alas! time hastes away, - Nor is it in your power to bribe its stay; - The rolling years with constant motion run, - Lo! while I speak, the present minute’s gone, - And following hours still urge the foregoing on. - ’Tis not thy wealth, ’tis not thy power, - ’Tis not thy piety can thee secure; - They’re all too feeble to withstand - Gray hairs, approaching age, and thy avoidless end. - When once thy glass is run, - When once thy utmost thread is spun, - ‘Twill then be fruitless to expect reprieve; - Could’st thou ten thousand kingdoms give - In purchase for each hour of longer life, - They would not buy one gasp of breath, - Nor move one jot inexorable death. - -Perhaps there is no illustration in our language more impressive than -Young’s noble apostrophe, commencing: - - The bell strikes one. _We take no note of time - But from its loss_: to give it, then, a tongue - Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, - I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, - It is the knell of my departed hours. - Where are they? With the years beyond the flood. - * * * * - O time! than gold more sacred; more a load - Than lead to fools, and fools reputed wise. - What moment granted man without account? - What years are squandered, wisdom’s debt unpaid! - Our wealth in days all due to that discharge. - * * * * - Youth, is not rich in time; it may be poor; - Part with it as with money, sparing; pay - No moment, but in purchase of its worth; - And what’s it worth, ask death-beds; they can tell. - Part with it as with life, reluctant; big - With holy hope of nobler time to come. - * * * * - But why on time so lavish is my song? - On this great theme kind Nature keeps a school - To teach her sons herself. Each night we die— - Each morn are born anew; each day a life; - And shall we kill each day? If trifling kills, - Sure vice must butcher. Oh, what heaps of slain - Cry out for vengeance on us; time destroyed - Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt. - - Throw years away! - Throw empires, and be blameless: moments seize; - Heaven’s on their wing: a moment we may wish, - When worlds want wealth to buy. Bid day stand still, - Bid him drive back his car, and re-impart - The period past, regive the given hour. - O for yesterdays to come! - -How exquisite is this beguiling of time in _Paradise Lost_. - - With thee conversing I forget all time; - All seasons, and their change, all please alike. - -How beautifully has Burns alluded to these influences, in his “Lines to -Mary in Heaven:” - - Time but the impression deeper makes, - As streams their channels deeper wear. - -The Hon. W. R. H. Spencer has something akin to this in his “Lines to -Lady A. Hamilton:” - - Too late I stay’d; forgive the crime; - Unheeded flew the hours; - How noiseless falls the foot of Time - That only treads on flow’rs! - -Edward Moore, in one of his pleasing Songs, thus points to these -charming influences: - - Time still, as he flies, adds increase to her truth, - And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth. - -The best lessons of life are to be learnt in his school: - - Taught by time, my heart has learn’d to glow - For others’ good, and melt at others’ woe. - -How well has Shakspeare expressed this work of the great reconciler: - - Time’s glory is to calm contending kings, - To unmask falsehood, and bring truth to light, - To stamp its seal on aged things, - To wake the morn, and sentinel the night, - To wrong the wronger, till he render right. - -Elsewhere Shakspeare paints him as the universal balm: - - Cease to lament for that thou can’st not help, - And study help for that which thou lament’st. - Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. - -It is notorious to philosophers, that joy and grief can hasten and delay -time. Locke is of opinion that a man in great misery may so far lose his -measure, as to think a minute an hour; or in joy make an hour a minute. -Shakspeare’s “divers paces” of Time is too familiar for quotation here. - -Time’s Garland is one of the beauties of Drayton’s “Elysium of the -Muses:” - - The garland long ago was worn - As Time pleased to bestow it: - The Laurel only to adorn - The conqueror and the poet. - - The Palm his due who, uncontroll’d, - On danger looking gravely, - When fate had done the worst it could, - Who bore his fortunes bravely. - - Most worthy of the Oaken wreath - The ancients him esteemed, - Who in a battle had from death - Some man of worth redeemed. - - About his temples grave they tie, - Himself that so behaved, - In some strong siege by th’ enemy, - A city that hath saved. - - A wreath of Vervains heralds wear, - Amongst our garlands named, - Being sent that dreadful news to bear, - Offensive war proclaimed. - - The sign of peace who first displays, - The Olive wreath possesses; - The lover with the Myrtle sprays - Adorns his crisped tresses. - - In love the sad forsaken wight - The Willow garland weareth; - The funeral man, befitting night, - The baleful Cypress beareth. - - To Pan we dedicate the Pine, - Whose slips the shepherd graceth; - Again the Ivy and the Vine - On his front Bacchus placeth. - -They who so stanchly oppose innovations, should remember Bacon’s words: -“Every medicine is an innovation, and he that will not apply new -remedies must expect new evils; for time is the greatest innovator; and -if time of course alter things to the worse, and wisdom and counsel -shall not alter them to the better, what shall be the end?” - -How much time has to do with our successes is thus solemnly told by the -Preacher: “The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, -neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, -nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them -all.”—_Ecclesiastes_ ix. 11. - -How truthfully has Dr. Johnson said: “So little do we accustom ourselves -to consider the effects of time, that things necessary and certain often -surprise us like unexpected contingencies. We leave the beauty in her -bloom, and, after an absence of twenty years, wonder, at our return, to -find her faded. We meet those whom we left children, and can scarcely -persuade ourselves to treat them as men. The traveller visits in age -those countries through which he rambled in his youth, and hopes for -merriment in the old place. The man of business, wearied with -unsatisfactory prosperity, retires to the town of his nativity, and -expects to play away the last years with the companions of his -childhood, and recover youth in the fields where he once was young.” - -Dr. Armstrong, the friend of Thomson, has left this solemn apostrophe on -the Wrecks and Mutations of Time: - - What does not fade? the tower that long had stood - The crush of thunder and the warring winds, - Shook by the slow but sure destroyer Time, - Now hangs in doubtful ruins o’er its base, - And flinty pyramids and walls of brass - Descend. The Babylonian spires are sunk; - Achaia, Rome, and Egypt moulder down. - Time shakes the stable tyranny of thrones, - And tottering empires rush by their own weight. - This huge rotundity we tread grows old, - And all these worlds that roll around the sun; - The sun himself shall die, and ancient night - Again involve the desolate abyss, - Till the Great Father, through the lifeless gloom, - Extend his arm to light another world, - And bid new planets roll by other laws. - -We remember a piece of stage sentiment, beginning - - “Time! Time! Time! why ponder o’er thy glass, - And count the dull sands as they pass?” &c. - -It was touchingly sung, but had too much of gloom and despondency for -the theatre: possibly it may have reminded some of its hearers of their -own delinquency. - -With what solemnity has our great Dramatic Bard foreshadowed Time’s -waning: - - To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, - Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, - To the last syllable of recorded time; - And all our yesterdays have lighted fools - The way to dusty death. - -His departure is again sketched in _Troilus and Cressida:_ - - Time is like a fashionable host, - That slightly shakes his parting guest by th’ hand, - But with his arms outstretch’d, as he would fly, - Grasps the incomer. - -Sir Walter Scott thus paints Time’s evanescence: - - Time rolls his ceaseless course.—The race of yore, - Who danced our infancy upon their knee, - And told our marvelling boyhood legends store - Of their strange ’ventures happ’d by land or sea, - How are they blotted from the things that be! - -Cowley has this significant couplet: - - To things immortal Time can do no wrong, - And that which never is to die for ever must be young. - -Yet, what a treasure is this: - - My inheritance! how wide and fair! - Time is my estate; to Time I’m heir. - _Wilhelm Meister:_ Carlyle. - -“Time is almost a human word, and change entirely a human idea: in the -system of nature we should rather say progress than change. The sun -appears to sink in the ocean in darkness, but rises in another -hemisphere; the ruins of a city fall, but they are often used to form -more magnificent structures, as at Rome; but even when they are -destroyed, so as to produce only dust, nature asserts her empire over -them, and the vegetable world rises in constant youth, and in a period -of annual successions, by the labours of man, providing food, vitality, -and beauty upon the wreck of monuments which were once raised for -purposes of glory, but which are now applied to objects of utility.” - -As this beautiful passage was written by Sir Humphry Davy nearly -three-and-thirty years since, the above use of the word _progress_ had -nothing to do with the semi-political sense in which it is now commonly -employed. Nevertheless, there occur in the writings of our great -chemical philosopher occasional views of the advancement of the world in -knowledge, and its real authors, with which the progressists of the -present day fraternise. - -At the above distance, Davy wrote in the following vein: “In the common -history of the world, as compiled by authors in general, almost all the -great changes of nations are confounded with changes in their dynasties; -and events are usually referred either to sovereigns, chiefs, heroes, or -their armies, which do, in fact, originate entirely from different -causes, either of an intellectual or moral nature. Governments depend -far more than is generally supposed upon the opinion of the people and -the spirit of the age and nation. It sometimes happens that a gigantic -mind possesses supreme power, and rises superior to the age in which he -is born: such was Alfred in England, and Peter in Russia. Such instances -are, however, very rare; and in general it is neither amongst sovereigns -nor the higher classes of society that the great improvers and -benefactors of mankind are to be found.”—_Consolations in Travel_, pp. -34, 35. - -Brilliant as was Davy’s own career, it had its life-struggles: his last -days were embittered with sufferings, mental as well as physical; and in -these moments he may have written these somewhat querulous remarks. - - - TIME: PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE. - -Harris, in his _Hermes_, in his disquisition on Time, gives the -distinction between the grammatical or conventional phrase, “Present -Time,” and the more philosophical and abstract “Now,” or “Instant.” -Quoting Nicephorus Blemmides, Harris would define the former as follows: -“Present Time is that which adjoins to the Real Now, or Instant, on -either side being a limited time made up of Past and Future; and from -its vicinity to that Real Now, said to be Now also itself.” Whilst upon -the latter term he remarks: “As every Now or Instant always exists in -Time, and without being Time is Time’s bound; the Bound of Completion to -the Past, and the Bound of Commencement to the Future; and from hence we -may conceive its nature or end, which is to be the medium of continuity -between the Past and the Future, so as to render Time, through all its -parts, one Intire and Perfect Whole.” - -Thus, logically, “Time Present” must be regarded as a mathematical -point, having no parts or magnitude, being simply the end of the Past, -and the beginning of the Future. Thus, perishing in action and eluding -the grasp of thought, it is a nonentity, of which, at best, an -intangible and shadowy existence can be predicated: - - Dum loquimur fugerit invida - Ætas. _Hor._ - -And we may ask of it, with its _carpe diem_, its manifold attributes, -and imputed influences, as the poet Young does of the King of Terrors: - - Why start at Death? Where is he? Death _arrived_ - Is _past;_ not _come_, or _gone_, he’s never _here_. - _Night Thoughts_, iv. - -It is, however, in the more conventional sense that the phrase “Present -Time” is generally made use of in writing and conversation. So Johnson, -in his well-known passage: “Whatever withdraws us from the power of our -senses, whatever makes the _past_, the _distant_, or the _future_, -predominate over the _present_, advances us in the dignity of thinking -beings,” &c. Here we have “the Present” invested with the dignity of -individual existence, and compared with the Past and the Future, as -having duration or extension with these; as if we should speak of a -series of numbers, ascending on each side of nothing to infinity, as -being divisible into negative, zero, and positive. - -Among coincident forms of expression, on the part of writers who have -spoken of the “Present Time” in its more precise and philosophical -sense, is the following by Cowley, in a note to one of his “Pindarique -Odes:” “There are two sorts of Eternity; from the Present backwards to -Eternity, and from the present forwards, called by the Schoolmen -_Æternitas à parte ante_, and _Æternitas à parte post_. These two make -up the whole circle of Eternity, which _Present Time_ cuts like a -_Diameter_.” - -Carlyle, in his _Essays_ (“Signs of the Times”), has this knowledgeful -passage: “We admit that the present is an important time; as all present -time necessarily is. _The poorest day that passes over us is the conflux -of two Eternities_, and is made up of currents that issue from the -remotest Past, and flow onwards into the remotest Future. We were wise, -indeed, could we discover truly the signs of our own times; and, by -knowledge of its wants and advantages, wisely adjust our own position in -it. Let us, then, instead of gazing idly into the obscure distance, look -calmly around us for a little on the perplexed scene where we stand. -Perhaps, on a more serious inspection, something of its perplexity may -disappear, some of its distinctive characters and deeper tendencies more -clearly reveal themselves; whereby our own relations to it, our own true -aims and endeavours in it, may also become clearer.”[1] - -Lord Strangford has left these pathetic stanzas: - - Time was—when all was fresh, and fair, and bright, - My heart was bounding with delight, - It knew no pain, it felt no aching: - But o’er it all its airy woes - As lightly passed, or briefly staid, - Like the fleet summer-cloud which throws - On sunny lands a moment’s shade, - A momentary darkness making. - - Time is—when all is drear, and dim, and wild, - And that gay sunny scene which smiled - With darkest clouds is gloomed and saddened; - When tempest-toss’d on passion’s tide - Reason’s frail bark is madly driven, - Nor gleams one ray its course to guide - From yon o’ercast and frowning heaven, - Till peace is wreck’d and reason maddened. - - Time come—but will it e’er restore - The peace my bosom felt before, - And soothe again my aching, tortured breast? - It will, for there is One above - Who bends on all a Father’s eye; - Who hears with all a Father’s love - The broken heart’s repentant sigh, - Calms the vexed heart, and bids the spirit rest. - - --------------------- -Footnote 1: - - Abridged from an excellent Communication, by William Bates, to _Notes - and Queries_, 2d series, vol. x. p. 245. - - ---------------------------- - - - MEASUREMENT OF TIME. - -Sir Thomas Browne, treating of Errors regarding Numbers, observes: “True -it is that God made all things in number, weight, and measure; yet -nothing by them, or through the efficacy of either. Indeed, our days, -actions, and motions being measured by time (which is but _motion -measured_), whatever is observable in any, falls under the account of -some number; which, notwithstanding, cannot be denominated the cause of -these events. So do we unjustly assign the power of action even unto -time itself; nor do they speak properly who say that time consumeth all -things; for time is not effective, nor are bodies destroyed by it, but -from the action and passion of their elements in it; whose account it -only affordeth, and, measuring out their motion, informs us in the -periods and terms of their duration, rather than effecteth or physically -produceth the same.”[2] - -Time can only be measured by motion: were all things inanimate or fixed, -time could not be measured. A body cannot be in two places at the same -instant; and if the motion of any body from one point to another were -regular and equal, the divisions and subdivisions of the space thus -marked over would mark portions of time. - -The sun and the moon have served to divide portions of time in all ages. -The rising and setting of the sun, the shortening and lengthening of the -shadows of trees, and even the shadow of man himself, have marked the -flight of time. The phases of the moon were used to indicate greater -portions; and a certain number of full moons supplied us with the means -of giving historical dates. - -Fifteen geographical miles, east or west, make one minute of time. The -earth turning on its axis produces the alternate succession of day and -night, and in this revolution marks the smallest division of time by -distances on its surface. - -If each of the 360 degrees into which the circumference of the earth is -divided, be subdivided into twenty-four hours, it will be found that 15 -degrees pass under the sun during each hour, which proves that 15 -degrees of longitude mark one hour of time: thus, as Berlin is nearly 15 -degrees east of London, it is almost one o’clock when it is twelve at -London. - -Time, like bodies, is divisible nearly _ad infinitum_. A second (a mere -pulsation) is divided into four or five parts, marked by the vibrations -of a watch-balance; and each of these divisions is frequently required -to be lessened an exact 2880th part of its momentary duration. It is, -however, impossible to see this; for Mr. Babbage, speaking of a piece of -mechanism which indicated the 300th part of a second, tells us that both -himself and friend endeavoured to stop it twenty times successively at -the same point, but could not be confident of even the 20th part of a -second. - -It has been said that many simple operations would astonish us, did we -but know enough to be so; and this remark may not be inapplicable to -those who, having a watch losing half a minute per day, wish it -corrected, though they may not reflect that as half a minute is the -2880th part of 24 hours, each vibration of the balance, which is only -the fifth part of a second, must be accelerated the 2880th part of its -instantaneous duration; while to make a watch, losing one minute per -week, go correctly, each vibration must be accelerated the 1008th part -of its duration, or the 50,400th part of a second.[3] - -Among the early methods of measuring Time, we must not omit to notice -Alfred’s “Time-Candles,” as they have been called. His reputed -biographer, Asser, tells us that Alfred caused six tapers to be made for -his daily use: each taper, containing twelve pennyweights of wax, was -twelve inches long, and of proportionate breadth. The whole length was -divided into twelve parts, or inches, of which three would burn for one -hour, so that each taper would be consumed in four hours; and the six -tapers, being lighted one after the other, lasted twenty-four hours. But -the wind blowing through the windows and doors and chinks of the walls -of the chapel, or through the cloth of his tent, in which they were -burning, wasted these tapers, and consequently they burnt with no -regularity; he therefore designed a lantern made of ox or cow horn, cut -into thin plates, in which he enclosed the tapers; and thus protecting -them from the wind, the period of their burning became a matter of -certainty. But the genuineness of Asser’s work is doubted,—so the story -is discredited. Nevertheless, there is nothing very questionable in -Alfred’s reputed method; and it is curious to see that an “improvement” -was patented so recently as 1859, which consists in graduating the -exterior of candles, either by indentation or colouring at intervals, -and equal distances apart, according to the size of the candles. The -marks are to consist of hours, half-hours, and, if necessary, -quarter-hours; the distance to be determined by the kind of candle used. - -Bishop Wilkins, in his _Mathematical Magic_, in the chapter relating to -“such engines as did receive a regular and lasting motion from something -belonging to their own frame, whether weights or springs, &c.,” quotes -Pancirollus, “taken from that experiment in the multiplication of wheels -mentioned in Vitruvius, where he speaks of an instrument whereby a man -may know how many miles or paces he doth go in any space of time, -whether or no he pass by water in a boat or ship, or by land in a -chariot or coach. They have been contrived also into little pocket -instruments, by which, after a man hath walked a whole day together, he -may easily know how many steps he hath taken.” More curious is “the -alarum, mentioned by Walchius, which, though it were but two or three -inches big, yet would both wake a man and of itself light a candle for -him at any set hour of the night. And those great springs, which are of -so great force as to turn a mill (as some have contrived), may be easily -applied to more various and difficult labours.” - -Occasionally, in these old curiosities, we trace anticipations of some -of the scientific marvels of the present day. Thus, when the Grand Duke -of Tuscany, in 1669, visited the Royal Society at Arundel House, he was -shown “a clock, whose movements are derived from the vicinity of a -loadstone; and it is so adjusted as to discover the distance of -countries, at sea, by the longitude.” The analogy between this clock and -the electrical clock of the present day is not a little remarkable. The -Journal-book of the Society for 1669 contains many allusions to “Hook’s -magnetic watch going slower or faster according to the greater or less -distance of the loadstone, and so moving regularly in every posture.” On -the occasion of the visit of illustrious strangers, this clock and -Hook’s magnetic watches were always exhibited as great curiosities.[4] - - --------------------- -Footnote 2: - - _Vulgar and Common Errors_, book iv. chap. xii. - -Footnote 3: - - _Time and Timekeepers._ By Adam Thomson, 1842. - -Footnote 4: - - See Weld’s _History of the Royal Society_, vol. i. pp. 220, 221. - - ---------------------------- - - - PERIODS OF REST. - -The terrestrial day, and consequently the length of the cycle of light -and darkness, being what it is, we find various parts of the -constitution both of animals and vegetables which have a periodical -character in their functions, corresponding to the diurnal succession of -external conditions; and we find that the length of the period, as it -exists in their constitution, coincides with the length of the natural -day. - -Man, in all nations and ages, takes his principal rest once in -twenty-four hours; and the regularity of this practice seems most -suitable to his health, though the duration of the time allotted to -repose is extremely different in different cases. So far as we can -judge, this period is of a length beneficial to the human frame, -independently of the effect of external agents. In the voyages made into -high northern latitudes, where the sun did not rise for three months, -the crews of the ships were made to adhere, with the utmost punctuality, -to the habit of retiring to rest at nine, and rising a quarter before -six; and they enjoyed, under circumstances apparently the most trying, a -state of salubrity quite remarkable. This shows that, according to the -common constitution of such men, the cycle of twenty-fours is very -commodious, though not imposed on them by external circumstances. - -The succession of exertion and repose in the muscular system, of excited -and dormant sensibility in the nervous, appears to be fundamentally -connected with the muscular and nervous powers, whatever the nature of -these may be. The necessity of these alternations is one of the measures -of the intensity of these vital energies; and it would seem that we -cannot, without assuming the human powers to be altered, suppose the -intervals of tranquillity which they require to be much changed. This -view agrees with the opinion of the most eminent physiologists. Thus, -Cabanis notices the periodical and isochronous character of the desire -of sleep, as well as of other appetites. He states that sleep is more -easy and more salutary, in proportion as we go to rest and rise every -day at the same hours; and observes that this periodicity seems to have -a reference to the motions of the solar system. - -Now, how should such a reference be at first established in the -constitution of man, animals, and plants, and transmitted from one -generation of them to another? If we suppose a wise and benevolent -Creator, by whom all the parts of nature were fitted to their uses and -to each other, this is what we might expect and understand. On any other -supposition, such a fact appears altogether incredible and -inconceivable.[5] - - --------------------- -Footnote 5: - - Abridged from Whewell’s _Bridgwater Treatise_. - - ---------------------------- - - - RECKONING DISTANCE BY TIME. - -In Oriental countries, it has been the custom from the earliest ages to -reckon distances by _time_, rather than by any direct reference to a -standard of measure, as is commonly reckoned in the present day. In the -Scriptures we find distances described by “a day’s journey,” “three -days’ journey,” and other similar expressions. A day’s journey is -supposed to have been equal to about thirty-three British statute miles, -and denoted the distance that could be performed without any -extraordinary fatigue by a foot-passenger; “a Sabbath day’s journey” was -peculiar to the Jews, being equal to rather less than one statute mile. -It may not be in exact accordance with our habits of thought, and usual -forms of expression, thus to describe distances by time; yet it seems to -possess some advantages. A man knowing nothing of the linear standards -of measure employed in foreign countries, would receive no satisfactory -information on being told that a particular city, or town, was distant -from another a certain number of miles[6] or leagues,[7] as the case -might happen to be. But if he were told that such city or town was -distant from another a certain number of _hours_ or _days_, there would -be something in the account that would commend itself to his -understanding. A sea-voyage is oftener described by reference to time -than to _distance_. We frequently hear persons inquire how many _weeks_ -or _months_ it will occupy to proceed to distant parts of the world, but -they rarely manifest any great anxiety about the number of _miles_. This -mode of computation seems especially applicable to steam navigation: a -voyage by a steam-packet, under ordinary circumstances, being performed -with such surprising regularity, that it might, with greater propriety, -be described by minutes, or hours, or days, than by miles. - - --------------------- -Footnote 6: - - In Holland a _mile_ is nearly equal to three and three-quarters; in - Germany it is rather more than four and a half; and in Switzerland it - is about equal to five and three-quarters British miles. - -Footnote 7: - - A _league_ in France is equal to two and three-quarters; in Spain to - four; in Denmark to four and three-quarters; in Switzerland to five - and a half; and in Sweden to six and three-quarters British miles. - - ---------------------------- - - - SUN-DIALS. - -Sun-dials are little regarded but as curiosities in these days; although -the science of constructing Sun-dials, under the name of Gnomonics, was, -up to a comparatively recent period, part of a mathematical course. As -long as watches were scarce, and clocks not very common, the dial was an -actual time-keeper. Of the mathematical works of the seventeenth century -which are found on book-stalls, none are so common as those on Dialling. - -Each of the old dials usually had its monitory inscription; and although -the former have mostly disappeared, the mottoes have been preserved, so -that all their good is not lost. - -The stately city of Oxford, which Waagen declared it was worth a special -journey from Germany to see, has, upon its churches and colleges, and in -their lovely gardens, several dials. Christopher Wren, when a boy of -fifteen at Wadham College, designed on the ceiling of a room a -reflecting dial, embellished with various devices and two figures, -Astronomy and Geometry, with accessories, tastefully drawn with a pen, -and bearing a Latin inscription; but his more elaborate work is the -large and costly dial which he erected at All Souls’ College, of which -he was a Fellow. - -The Rev. W. Lisle Bowles was a sincere respecter of dials. In the garden -of his parsonage at Bremhill he placed a Sun-dial—a small antique -twisted column, gray with age, and believed to have been the dial of the -abbot of Malmesbury, and counted his hours at the adjoining lodge; for -it was taken from the garden of the farmhouse, which had originally been -the summer retirement of this mitred lord: it is of monastic character, -but a more ornate capital has been added, which bears the date of 1688; -it has the following inscription by the venerable Canon: - - To count the brief and unreturning hours, - This Sun-dial was placed among the flowers, - Which came forth in their beauty—smiled and died, - Blooming and withering round its ancient side. - Mortal, thy day is passing—see that Flower, - And think upon the Shadow and the Hour. - -From beneath a venerable yew, which has seen the persecution of the -loyal English clergy, you look into the adjoining churchyard of -Bremhill, on an old Sun-dial, once a cross. Bowles tells us: “The -_cross_ was found broken at its foot, probably by the country -iconoclasts of the day. I have brought the interesting fragment again -into light, and placed it conspicuously opposite to an old Scotch fir in -the churchyard, which I think it not unlikely was planted by Townson on -his restoration. The accumulation of the soil of centuries had covered -an ascent of four steps at the bottom of this record of silent hours. -These steps have been worn in places, from the act of frequent -prostration or kneeling by the forefathers of the hamlet, perhaps before -the church existed.” Upon this old dial Bowles wrote one of his most -touching poems, of which these are the opening verses: - - So passes silent o’er the dead thy shade, - Brief Time! and hour by hour, and day by day, - The pleasing pictures of the present fade, - And like a summer-vapour steal away. - - And have not they, who here forgotten lie - (Say, hoary chronicler of ages past), - Once more the shadow with delighted eye, - Nor thought it fled,—how certain and how fast? - - Since thou hast stood, and thus thy vigil kept, - Noting each hour, o’er mould’ring stones beneath, - The Pastor and his flock alike have slept, - And “dust to dust” proclaim’d the stride of death. - -Any thing that reminds us of the lapse of time should remind us also of -the right employment of time in doing whatever business is required to -be done. - -A similar lesson is solemnly conveyed in the Scripture motto to a -Sun-dial: “The night cometh, when no man can work.” Another solemn -injunction is conveyed in the motto to a Sun-dial erected by Bishop -Copleston in a village near which he resided: “Let not the sun go down -upon your wrath” (_Ephesians_ iv. 26). - -A more subtle motto is, “Septem sine horis;” signifying that there are -in the longest day seven hours (and a trifle over) during which the -Sun-dial is useless. - -Upon the public buildings and in the pleasure-grounds of Old London the -Sun-dial was placed as a silent monitor to those who were sailing on the -busy stream of time through its crowded haunts and thoroughfares, or -seeking meditation in quiet nooks and plaisances of its river mansions -and garden-houses. Upon churches the dial commonly preceded the clock: -Wren especially introduced the dial in his churches. - -Sovereigns and statesmen may have reflected beside the palace-dials upon -the fleetingness of life, and thus have learned to take better note of -time. Whitehall was famous for its Sun-dials. In Privy Garden was a dial -set up by Edward Gunter, professor of astronomy at Gresham College (and -of which he published a description), by command of James I., in 1624. A -large stone pedestal bore four dials at the four corners, and “the great -horizontal concave” in the centre; besides east, west, north, and south -dials at the sides. In the reign of Charles II. this dial was defaced by -an intoxicated nobleman of the Court; upon which Marvell wrote: - - This place for a dial was too unsecure, - Since a guard and a garden could not defend; - For so near to the Court they will never endure - Any witness to show how their time they misspend. - -In the court-yard facing the Banqueting-house was another curious dial, -set up in 1669 by order of Charles II. It was invented by one Francis -Hall, _alias_ Lyne, a Jesuit, and professor of mathematics at Liège. -This dial consisted of five stages rising in a pyramidal form, and -bearing several vertical and reclining dials, globes cut into planes, -and glass bowls; showing, “besides the houres of all kinds,” “many -things also belonging to geography, astrology, and astronomy, by the -sun’s shadow made visible to the eye.” Among the pictures were portraits -of the king, the two queens, the Duke of York, and Prince Rupert. Father -Lyne published a description of this dial, which consists of -seventy-three parts: it is illustrated with seventeen plates: the -details are condensed in No. 400 of the _Mirror_. About 1710, William -Allingham, a mathematician in Canon-row, asked 500_l._ to repair this -dial: it was last seen by Vertue, the artist and antiquary, at -Buckingham House. - -The bricky towers of St. James’s palace had their Sun-dials; and in the -gardens of Kensington palace and Hampton Court palace are to this day -superb dials. - -Upon a house-front in the Terrace, New Palace Yard, Westminster, is a -Sun-dial, having the motto from Virgil, “Discite justitiam, moniti,” -which had probably been inscribed upon the old clock-tower of the -palace, in reference to its having been built with a fine that had been -levied on the Chief Justice of the King’s Bench for altering a record. - -The Inns of Court, where time runs its golden sand, have retained a few -of their Sun-dials. In Lincoln’s Inn, on two of the old gables, are: 1. -A southern dial, restored in 1840, which shows the hours by its gnomon, -from 6 A.M. to 4 P.M., and is inscribed, “Ex hoc monumento pendet -æternitas.” 2. A western dial, restored in 1794 and 1848, from the -different situation of its plane, only shows the hours from noon till -night: inscription, “Quam redit nescitis horam.” And in Serle’s-court -(now New-square), on the west side, was a dial inscribed, “Publica -privatis secernite, sacra prophanis.” - -Gray’s Inn has lost its Sun-dials: but in the gardens was a dial, -opposite Verulam Buildings, not far from Bacon’s summer-house; and the -turret of the great Hall had formerly a southern declining dial, with -this motto, “Lux diei, lex Dei.” - -Furnival’s Inn had its garden and dial, which disappeared when the old -Inn buildings were taken down in 1818, and the Inn rebuilt. - -Staple Inn had upon its Hall a well-kept dial, above a luxuriant -fig-tree. - -Clement’s Inn had, in its small garden, a kneeling figure supporting a -dial,—one of the leaden garden embellishments common in the last -century. In New Inn, adjoining, the Hall has a large vertical Sun-dial, -motto: “Time and Tide tarry for no man.” - -Lyon’s Inn, which had been an Inn “since 1420, or sooner,” had, in 1828, -an old Sun-dial, which had lost its gnomon and most of its figures. - -The Temple garden, Inner and Middle, has each a large pillar Sun-dial; -the latter very handsome. There are vertical dials in various courts; -but the old dial of Inner Temple terrace, with its “Begone about your -business,”—in reality the reply of a testy bencher to the painter who -teased him for an inscription,—disappeared in the year 1828. There -remain three dials with mottoes: Temple-lane, “Pereunt et imputantur;” -Essex-court, “Vestigia nulla retrorsum;” Brick-court, “Time and tide -tarry for no man;” and in Pump-court and Garden-court are two dials -without mottoes. Charles Lamb has this charmingly reflective passage, -suggested by the Temple dials: - - What an antique air had the now almost effaced sun-dials, with their - moral inscriptions, seeming coevals with that Time which they - measured, and to take their revelations of its flight immediately - from heaven, holding correspondence with the fountain of light! How - could the dark line steal imperceptibly on, watched by the eye of - childhood, eager to detect its movement, never catched, nice as an - evanescent cloud, or the first arrests of sleep! - - And yet doth beauty like a dial-hand - Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived! - - What a dead thing is a clock, with its ponderous embowelments of - lead and brass, its pert or solemn dulness of communication, - compared with the simple altar-like structure and silent - heart-language of the old dial! It stood as the garden god of - Christian gardens. Why is it almost every where vanished? If its - business be superseded by more elaborate inventions, its moral uses, - its beauty, might have pleaded for its continuance. It spoke of - moderate labours, of pleasures not protracted after sunset, of - temperance and good hours. It was the primitive clock, the horologe - of the first world. Adam could scarce have missed it in Paradise. It - was the measure appropriate for sweet plants and flowers to spring - by, for the birds to apportion their silver warblings by, for flocks - to pasture and be led to fold by. The shepherd ‘carved it out - quaintly in the sun,’ and, turning philosopher by the very - occupation, provided it with mottoes more touching than tombstones. - It was a pretty device of the gardener, recorded by Marvell, who, in - the days of artificial gardening, made a dial out of herbs and - flowers: - - How well the skilful gardener drew, - Of herbs and flowers, this dial new! - Where from above, the milder sun - Does through a fragrant zodiac run: - And, as it works, the industrious bee - Computes its time as well as we. - How could such sweet and wholesome hours - Be reckon’d, but with herbs and flowers? - _From “The Garden.”_ - -Another noted dial gave name to a locality of the metropolis, which has -known many mutations, viz. Seven Dials, built in the time of Charles II. -for wealthy tenants. Evelyn notes, 1694: “I went to see the building -near St. Giles’s, where Seven Dials make a star from a Doric pillar -placed in the middle of a circular area, said to be by Mr. Neale (the -introducer of the late lotteries), in imitation of Venice, now set up -here for himself twice, and once for the state.” - - Where famed St. Giles’s ancient limits spread, - An in-rail’d column rears its lofty head: - Here to seven streets seven dials count their day, - And from each other catch the circling ray: - Here oft the peasant, with inquiring face, - Bewilder’d trudges on from place to place; - He dwells on every sign with stupid gaze, - Enters the narrow alleys’ doubtful maze, - Tries every winding court and street in vain, - And doubles o’er his weary steps again. - Gay’s _Trivia_, book ii. - -The seven streets were Great and Little Earl, Great and Little White -Lion, Great and Little St. Andrew’s, and Queen; though the dial-stone -had but six faces, two of the streets opening into one angle. The column -and dials were removed in June 1773, to search for a treasure said to be -concealed beneath the base. They were never replaced; but in 1822 were -purchased of a stone-mason, and the column was surmounted with a ducal -coronet, and set up on Weybridge Green as a memorial to the late Duchess -of York, who died at Oatlands in 1820. The dial-stone is now a -stepping-stone at the adjoining Ship inn.[8] - -The Sun-dial was also formerly used with a compass. The Hon. Robert -Boyle relates, “that a Boatman one day took out of his pocket a little -Sun-dial, furnished with an excited needle to direct how to set it, such -dials being used among mariners, not only to show them the hour of the -day, but to inform them from what quarter the wind blows.” - -A Cape Town Correspondent of _Notes and Queries_ describes a Sun-dial -and compass in his possession, made by “Johann Willebrand, in Augsburg, -1848:” it has a curious perpetual calendar attached, and is of highly -finished work in silver, parcel-gilt. Another Sun-dial and compass is -mentioned as made by Butterfield, at Paris: it is small, of silver, and -horizontal; upon its face are engraved dials for several latitudes, and -at the back a table of principal cities; it is set by a compass, and the -gnomon adjusted by a divided arc. The N. point of the compass-box is -_fixed_ in a position to allow for variation, probably at Paris; and, -judging from this, it would appear to have been made about 1716.[9] - -We should also notice the pocket ring-dial, such as that which gave -occasion to the Fool in the Forest of Arden to “moral on the time:” - - And then he drew a dial from his poke, - And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, - Says, very wisely, “It is ten o’clock.” - -This is a ring of brass, much like a miniature dog-collar, and has, -moving in a groove in its circumference, a narrower ring with a boss, -pierced by a small hole to admit a ray of light. The latter ring is made -movable, to allow for the varying declination of the sun in the several -months of the year, and the initials of these are marked in the -ascending and descending scale on the larger ring, which bears also the -motto: - - Set me right, and use me well, - And I y^e time to you will tell. - -The hours are lined and numbered on the opposite concavity. When the -boss of the sliding ring is set, and the ring is suspended by the ring -directly towards the sun, a ray of light passing through the hole in the -boss impinges on the concave surface, and the hour is told with fair -accuracy. Mr. Thomas Q. Couch, of Bodmin, thus describes this Dial in -_Notes and Queries_, 3d series, No. 36. Mr. Charles Knight, in his -_Pictorial Shakspeare_, has engraved a dial of this kind, as an -illustration of _As you like it_. - -Mr. Redmond, of Liverpool, describes the old pocket ring-dial as common -in the county of Wexford some twenty-five years ago: there was hardly a -farm-house where one could not be had. The same Correspondent of _Notes -and Queries_, 3d series, No. 39, describes a door-sill marked with the -hour for every day in the year: the sill had a full southern aspect, so -that when the sun shone, the time could be read as correctly as by any -watch. - -Another Correspondent of _Notes and Queries_, 2d series, No. 38, has an -ingenious pocket-dial, sold by one T. Clarke: it is merely a card, with -a small plummet hanging by a thread, and a gnomon, which lies flat on -the card, but, when lifted up, casts the shadow to indicate the hour of -the day, and also the hours of sunrise and sunset. - -In the United Service Museum, Whitehall, is a Sun-dial, with a -burning-glass arranged to fire a small gun at noon; also a large -Universal Dial, with a circle showing minutes; and another large -Universal Dial, with horizontal plate and spirit-level. - -Suppose we collect a few of the monitory inscriptions on dials in -various places. Hazlitt, in a graceful paper “On a Sun-dial,” tells us -that - - Horas non numero nisi serenas - -is the motto of a Sun-dial near Venice; and the same line is painted in -huge letters over the Sun-dial in front of an old farmhouse near -Farnworth, in Lancashire. - -At Hebden Bridge, in Yorkshire, is this quaint motto: - - Quod petis, umbra est. - -Canon Bowles, in his love of the solemn subject, prescribed the -following, with paraphrastic translations: - - _Morning Sun._—Tempus volat. - Oh! early passenger, look up—be wise, - And think how, night and day, _time onward flies_. - - _Noon._—Dum tempus habemus, operemur bonum. - Life steals away—this hour, oh! man, is lent thee. - Patient to work the work of Him who sent thee. - - _Setting Sun._—Redibo, tu nunquam. - Haste, traveller, the sun is sinking now: - He shall return again, but never thou. - -Over the Sun-dial on an old house in Rye: - - Tempus edax rerum.[10] - -Underneath it: - - That solar shadow, - As it measures life, it life resembles too. - -In Brading churchyard, Isle of Wight, on a Sun-dial fixed to what -appears originally to have been part of a churchyard cross, is the -motto: - - Hora pars vitæ. - -Near the porch of Milton church, Berks, is: - - Our Life’s a flying Shadow; God’s the Pole, - Death, the Horizon, where our sun is set; - The Index, pointing at him, is our Soul, - Which will, through Christ, a Resurrection get. - -Butler has this couplet: - - True as the dial to the sun, - Although it be not shin’d upon. - _Hudibras_, part iii. canto 2. - -Upon this Dr. Nash notes: “As the dial is invariable, and always open to -the sun whenever its rays can show the time of day, though the weather -is often cloudy, and obscures its lustre: so true loyalty is always -ready to serve its king and country, though it often suffers great -afflictions and distresses.” - -There cannot be a more faithful indicator, according to Barton Booth’s -song: - - True as the needle to the pole, - Or as the dial to the sun. - -After all, the _sun_-dial is but an occasional timekeeper; a defect -which the pious Bishop Hall ingeniously illustrates in the following -beautiful Meditation “On the Sight of a Dial:” “If the sun did not shine -upon this dial, nobody would look at it: in a cloudy day it stands like -an useless post, unheeded, unregarded; but, when once those beams break -forth, every passenger runs to it, and gazes on it. - -“O God, while thou hidest thy countenance from me, methinks all thy -creatures pass by me with a willing neglect. Indeed, what am I without -thee? And if thou have drawn in me some lines and notes of able -endowments; yet, if I be not actuated by thy grace, all is, in respect -of use, no better than nothing; but when thou renewest the light of thy -loving countenance upon me, I find a sensible and happy change of -condition: methinks all things look upon me with such cheer and -observance, as if they meant to make good that word of thine, _Those -that honour me, I will honour:_ now, every line and figure, which it -hath pleased thee to work in me, serve for useful and profitable -direction. O Lord, all the glory is thine. Give thou me light: I will -give others information: both of us shall give thee praise.” - -The Pyramids of Egypt, the most ancient and the most colossal structures -on the earth,—the purpose and appropriation of which has been much -controverted by antiquaries and men of science,—have been considered by -some to have served as Sun-dials. Sir Gardner Wilkinson does not pretend -to explain the real object for which these stupendous monuments were -constructed, but feels persuaded that they have served for tombs, and -have also been intended for astronomical purposes. “The form of the -exterior might lead to many useful calculations. They stand exactly due -north and south; and while the direction of the faces to the east and -west might serve to fix the return of a certain period of the year, the -shadow cast by the sun, or the time of its coinciding with their slope, -might be observed for a similar purpose.” - -There is an interesting association of the Great Pyramid with the -ambitious dream of one of the world’s celebrities, which may be noticed -here. When Napoleon I. was in Egypt, in 1799, he rode on a camel to the -Great Pyramid and the Sphinx, that relic of mystic grandeur. Karl -Girardet has painted this impressive visit; and the picture has been -engraved by Gautier, and inscribed, “Forty Centuries look down upon -him.” - -Charles Mackay has written a graceful poem as a pendent to this print; -in which the poet makes the young Napoleon thus invoke the colossal -monuments: - - Ye haughty Pyramids! - Thou Sphinx, whose eyeless lids - On my presumptuous youth seem bent in scorn! - What though thou’st stood - Coeval with the flood, - Of all earth’s monuments the earliest born, - And I so mean and small, - With armies at my call, - Am recent in thy sight as grass of yestermorn! - - Yet in this soul of mine - Is strength as great as thine, - O dull-eyed Sphinx that wouldst despise me now; - Is grandeur like thine own, - O melancholy stone, - With forty centuries furrow’d on thy brow; - Deep in my heart I feel - What time shall yet reveal, - That I shall tower o’er men, as o’er these deserts thou. - -The dreamer of empire proceeds, bespeaking: - - Nations yet to be, - Surging from Time’s deep sea, - Shall teach their babes the name of great Napoleon. - -But hear the reply of the decaying oracle: - - Over the mighty chief - There came a shadow of grief. - The lips gigantic seemed to move and say, - “Know’st thou his name that bid - Arise yon Pyramid? - Know’st thou who placed me where I stand to-day? - Thy deeds are but as sand - Strewn on the heedless land: - Think, little mortal, think, and pass upon thy way! - - Pass, little mortal, pass! - Grow like the vernal grass— - The autumn sickle shall destroy thy prime. - But nations shout the word - Which ne’er before they heard, - The name of glory, fearful yet sublime. - The Pharaohs are forgot, - Their works confess them not: - Pass, hero! pass,—poor straw upon the gulf of Time!” - -It will be remembered how Napoleon’s disastrous Egyptian campaign ended; -and how he secretly embarked for France, and read during his passage -both the Bible and the Koran with great assiduity. - -Among the interesting memorials of Mary Queen of Scots at Holyrood -Palace, Edinburgh, there remains the Sun-dial placed in the centre of -the palace-garden, and usually denominated “Queen Mary’s Dial.” - - It is the apex of a richly-ornamented pedestal, which rests upon a - hexagonal base, consisting of three steps. The form of the - ‘horologe’ is multangular; for though its principal sections are - pentagonal, yet from their terminating in pyramidal points, and - being diametrically opposed to each other, again connected by - triangular interspaces, it presents no fewer than twenty sides, on - which are placed twenty-two dials, inserted into circular, - semicircular, and triangular cavities. Between the dials are the - royal arms of Scotland, with the initials M. R., St. Andrew, St. - George, _fleurs-de-lis_, and other emblems. This memorial carries us - back nearly three centuries, when Holyrood was a palace - - Where “Mary of Scotland” kept her court. - - --------------------- -Footnote 8: - - The _Town and Country Magazine_, edited by Albert Smith. - -Footnote 9: - - N. T. Heineken; _Notes and Queries_, 3d series. - -Footnote 10: - - We remember this motto for many years beneath a large figure of Time, - executed in Coade and Seeley’s composition, and placed at the corner - of the lane leading from Westminster Bridge Road to Pedlar’s Acre. - - ---------------------------- - - - THE HOUR-GLASS. - -The use of the Hour-glass can be traced to ancient Greece. In Christie’s -Greek Vases, one is engraved from a scarabæus of sardonyx, in the -Towneley collection: it is exactly like the modern hour-glass. The first -mention of it occurs in a Greek tragedian named Bato. On a bas-relief of -the Mattei Palace, of the marriage of Thetis and Peleus, Morpheus holds -an hour-glass; and from Athenæus it appears that persons, when going -out, carried it about with them, as we do a watch. In a woodcut in -Hawkins’s _History of Music_, the frame is more solid, and the glass -probably slipped in and out. There is another cut of one in Boissard, -held by Death, precisely of the modern form. - -The hour or sand-glass is liable to the objection, that it requires a -horary attendant, as is intimated in the glee: - - Five times by the taper’s light - The hour-glass we have turned to-night. - -But the Hour-glass is a better measurer of time than is generally -imagined. The flow of the sand from one bulb to another is perfectly -equable, whatever may be the quantity of sand above the aperture. The -stream flows no faster when the upper bulb is almost full than when it -is almost empty; the lower heap not being influenced by the pressure of -the heap above.[11] Bloomfield, in one of his rural tales, “The Widow to -her Hour-glass,” sings: - - I’ve often watched thy streaming sand, - And seen the growing mountain rise, - And often found life’s hope to stand - On props as weak in wisdom’s eyes: - Its conic crown - Still sliding down, - Again heaped up, then down again: - The sand above more hollow grew, - Like days and years still filtering through, - And mingling joy and pain. - -Ford, contemporary with Massinger, has this impressive picture of the -primitive time-keeper: - - Minutes are number’d by the fall of sands, - As, by an hour-glass, the span of time - Doth waste us to our graves; and we look on it. - An age of pleasures, revell’d out, comes home - At last, and ends in sorrow: but the life, - Weary of riot, numbers every sand, - Wailing in sighs, until the last drop down; - So to conclude calamity in rest: numbering wasted life. - -How cleverly the old dramatist, Shirley, illustrates this philosopher in -glass: - - Let princes gather - My dust into a glass, and learn to spend - Their hour of state, that’s all they have; for when - That’s out, Time never turns the glass again. - -The Hour-glass has almost entirely given place to the more useful, -because to a greater extent self-acting, instrument; and it is now -seldom seen except upon the table of the lecturer or private teacher, in -the study of the philosopher, in the cottage of the peasant, or in the -hand of the old emblematic figure of Time.[12] We still sometimes see it -in the workshop of the cork-cutter. The half-minute glass is still -employed on board ship; and the two and a half or three minute glass for -boiling an egg with exactness. - - Preaching by the Hour-glass was formerly common; and public speakers - are _timed_, in the present day, by the same means. In the - church-wardens’ books of St. Helen’s, Abingdon, date 1599, is a - charge of fourpence for an hour-glass for the pulpit; in 1564, we - find in the books of St. Katherine’s, Christ Church, Aldgate, “paid - for an hour-glass that hangeth by the pulpit when the preacher doth - make a sermon, that he may know how the hour passeth away—one - shilling;” and in the books of St. Mary’s, Lambeth, 1579 and 1615, - are similar entries. Butler, in _Hudibras_, alludes to pulpit - hour-glasses having been used by the Puritans: the preacher having - named the text, turned up the glass; and if the sermon did not last - till the sand was out, it was said by the congregation that the - preacher was lazy; but if, on the other hand, he continued much - longer, they would yawn and stretch till the discourse was finished. - At the old church of St. Dunstan-in-the-West, Fleet-street, was a - large hour-glass in a silver frame, of which latter, when the - instrument was taken down, in 1723, two heads were made for the - parish staves. Hogarth, in his “Sleepy Congregation,” has introduced - an hour-glass on the west side of the pulpit. A very perfect - hour-glass is preserved in the church of St. Alban, Wood-street, - Cheapside; it is placed on the right of the reading-desk within a - frame of twisted columns and arches, supported on a spiral column: - the four sides have angels sounding trumpets; and each end has a - line of crosses _patées_ and fleurs-de-lis, somewhat resembling the - imperial crown. - - --------------------- -Footnote 11: - - Le Jeune has painted two children watching with wonder the sand - flowing in the hour-glass. - -Footnote 12: - - The Hour-glass is the sign of Calvert’s Brewery, in Upper - Thames-street. - - ---------------------------- - - - CLOCKS AND WATCHES. - -The clock was also the horologe of our old poets, from the Latin -_horologium:_ - - He’ll watch the horologe a double set, - If drink rock not his cradle.—_Othello_, act ii. sc. 3. - -Drayton calls the cock the country horologe. - -Rabelais thus capriciously ridicules the use of the clock: “The greatest -loss of time that I know, is to count the hours. What good comes of it? -Nor can there be any greater dotage in the world, than for one to guide -and direct his course by the sound of a bell, and not by his own -judgment and discretion.” In similar exuberance has this gay satirist -said: “There is only one quarter of an hour in human life passed ill, -and that is between the calling for the reckoning and paying it.” - -With more serious purpose has Sir Walter Scott, in his “Lay of the -Imprisoned Huntsman,” thus anathematised the clock and the dial: - - I hate to learn the ebb of time - From yon dull steeple’s drowsy chime, - Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl - Inch after inch along the wall. - -Richard II., in the dungeon of Pomfret Castle, soliloquises more -solemnly: - - Now hath Time made me his numb’ring clock: - My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jade - Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch - Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point, - Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. - Now, sir, the sound that tells what hour it is, - Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart, - Which is the bell: so sighs, and tears, and groans - Show minutes, times, and hours. - -Lucian, who died A.D. 180, refers to an instrument, mechanically -constructed with water, which reported the hours by a bell. “Before the -time of Jerome” (born A.D. 332), says Browne, “there were horologies -that measured the hours, not only by drops of water in glasses, called -_clepsydra_, but also by sand in glasses, called _clepsummia_.” It was -the clepsydra to which Lucian alludes. When the water, which was -constantly dripping out of the vessel, reached a certain level, it drew -away, by means of a rope connected with the piston in the water-vessel, -the ledge on which a weight rested; and the falling of this weight, -which was attached to a bell, caused it to strike. This, perhaps, was -the earliest kind of striking clock. - -A public striking clock may well be termed the regulator of society: it -reminds us of our engagements, and announces the hours for exertion or -repose; and in the silence of night it tells us of the hours that are -past, and how many remain before day. - -The earliest public clock set up in England was that with three bells, -which was placed in the clochard or bell-tower of the Palace at -Westminster, built by Edward III. in 1365-6: the palace was then the -most frequent residence of the king and his family; and the three bells -were “usually rung at Coronations, Triumphs, Funeralls of Princes, and -their Obits.”[13] This bell-tower stood very near to the site of the -great clock-tower of the new palace; the gilding of the exterior of -which cost no less than 1500_l._ - -A public clock is a public monitor; and the dimensions of its dial, and -works, and striking-bell add much to the solemnity of its proclaiming -the march of time. The great clocks in the International Exhibition of -1862 were among its colossal marvels. - -The clocks of St. Paul’s Cathedral, Westminster Palace, and the Royal -Exchange, are three of the largest clocks in London. The St. Paul’s -hour-hands are the height of a tall man; the hour struck by this clock -has been heard at midnight on the terrace of Windsor Castle; and from -the telegraph station on Putney-heath the hour has been read by the St. -Paul’s clock-face without the aid of a telescope: the hour-numerals are -2 feet 2½ inches in height. This clock once struck thirteen, which being -heard by a sentinel, accused of being asleep at his post at that hour, -was the means of saving his life; this striking thirteen was caused by -the lifting-piece holding on too long. - -The former church of St. Paul, Covent Garden, built by Inigo Jones, -contained within the pediment a pendulum-clock, made by Richard Harris -in 1641, and stated by an inscription in the vestry to be the first -pendulum-clock made.[14] - -The Horse Guards Clock is properly described by Mr. Denison as “a -superstitiously venerated and bad clock;” it is minutely described by -Mr. B. L. Vulliamy in the _Curiosities of London_, pp. 378-380. - -St. James’s Palace Clock, made by Clay, clockmaker to George II., -strikes the hours and quarters upon three bells; it requires to be wound -up every day, and originally had but one hand. We were told by the late -Mr. B. L. Vulliamy, that when the gatehouse was repaired in 1831, the -clock was removed, and not put up again, on account of the roof being -reported unsafe to carry the weight. The inhabitants of the -neighbourhood then memorialised William IV. for the replacement of the -timekeeper: the King, having ascertained its weight, shrewdly inquired -how, if the tower-roof was not strong enough to carry the clock, it was -safe for the number of persons occasionally seen upon it to witness -processions, &c. The clock was forthwith replaced, and a minute-hand was -added, with new dials: the original dials were of wainscot, in a great -number of very small pieces curiously dovetailed together. - -Trinity College, Cambridge, has a double-striking clock, put up by the -famous Dr. Bentley; striking, as it used to be said, once for Trinity -and once for his former college, St. John’s, which had no clock. - -The clock of St. Clement’s Danes, in the Strand, strikes twice; the hour -being first struck on a larger bell, and then repeated on a smaller one; -so that if the first has been miscounted, the second may be more -correctly observed. - -Wren has introduced the gilt projecting dial in several of the City -churches: that at St. Magnus, London Bridge, was the gift of Sir Charles -Duncomb, who, it is related, when a poor boy, had once to wait upon -London Bridge a considerable time for his master, whom he missed through -not knowing the hour; he then vowed that if ever he became successful in -the world, he would give to St. Magnus a public clock, that passengers -might see the time; and this dial proves the fulfilment of his vow. It -was originally ornamented with several richly gilded figures: upon a -small metal shield inside the clock are engraven the donor’s arms, with -this inscription: “The gift of Sir Charles Duncomb, Knight, Lord Major, -and Alderman of this ward; Langley Bradley fecit, 1709.” - -The former church of St. Dunstan-in-the-West, Fleet-street, within -memory possessed one of London’s wonders: it had a large gilt dial -overhanging the street, and above it two figures of savages, life-size, -carved in wood, and standing beneath a pediment, each having in his -right hand a club, with which he struck the quarters upon a suspended -bell, moving his head at the same time. To see the men strike was -considered very attractive; and opposite St. Dunstan’s was a famous -field for pickpockets, who took advantage of the gaping crowd. So it had -long been; for Ned Ward, in his _London Spy_, says: “We added to the -number of fools, and stood a little, making our ears do penance to -please our eyes, with the conceited notion of their (the puppets’) heads -and hands, which moved to and fro with as much deliberate stiffness as -the two wooden horologists at St. Dunstan’s when they strike the -quarters.” Cowper thus describes them in his _Table-Talk:_ - - When labour and when dulness, club in hand, - Like the two figures at St. Dunstan’s, stand, - Beating alternately, in measur’d time, - The clockwork tintinnabulum of rhyme, - Exact and regular the sounds will be, - But such mere quarter-strokes are not for me. - -These figures and the clock were put up in 1671. Among those who were -struck by their oddity was the third Marquis of Hertford, born in 1777: -“When a child, and a good child, his nurse, to reward him, would take -him to see _the giants_ at St. Dunstan’s; and he used to say that when -he grew to be a man _he would buy those giants_” (Cunningham’s _Handbook -of London_). Many a child of rich parents may have used the same words; -but in the present case the Marquis kept his word. When the old church -of St. Dunstan was taken down, in 1830, Lord Hertford attended the -second auction-sale of the materials, and purchased the clock, bells, -and figures for 200_l.;_ he had them placed at the entrance to the -grounds of his villa in the Regent’s Park, thence called St. Dunstan’s -Villa; and here the figures do duty to the present day. - -These automata remind us of the Minute-Jacks in Shakspeare’s _Timon of -Athens_, generally interpreted as Jacks of the Clock-house: - - You fools of fortune, trencher friends, time’s flies, - Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks. - -Still, the Minute-Jacks only struck hours and quarters; and the term is -rather thought to mean “fellows that watch their minutes to make their -advantage, time-servers.” There is no doubt that by the “Jack that keeps -the stroke,” in _Richard III._, is meant the Jack of the -Clock-house.[15] - -A much more noteworthy sight than the Fleet-street clock-figures is -possessed by the Londoners of the present day in the Time-ball Signal -upon the roof of the Electric Telegraph Office, No. 448 West Strand. - - The signal consists of a zinc ball, 6 feet in diameter, supported by - a rod, which passes down the centre of a column, and carries at the - base a piston, which, in its descent, plunges into a cast-iron - air-cylinder; the escape of the air being regulated so as at - pleasure to check the momentum of the ball, and prevent concussion. - The raising of the ball, half-mast high, takes place daily at 10 - minutes to 1 o’clock; at 5 minutes to 1 it is raised to the full - height; and at 1 precisely, and simultaneously with the fall of the - Time-ball at Greenwich Observatory (by which navigators correct - their chronometers), it is liberated by the galvanic current sent - from the Observatory, through a wire laid for that purpose. The same - galvanic current which liberates the Ball in the Strand moves a - needle upon the transit-clock of the Observatory, the time occupied - by the transition being about 1-3000th part of a second; and by the - unloosing of the machinery which supports the ball, less than - one-fifth part of a second. The true moment of one o’clock is - therefore indicated by the first appearance of the line of light - between the dark cross over the ball and the body of the ball - itself. There is a similar Time-ball upon the roof of a clockmaker’s - in Cornhill. - -At Edinburgh, also, is a Time-ball connected with a Time-gun signal, -consisting of a large iron cannon, in the Half-moon Battery, at the -Castle; which cannon, having been duly loaded and primed some time -between twelve and one o’clock, is fired off precisely at the latter -hour by an electric influence from the corrected Mean-time of the Royal -Observatory, at a distance of three-quarters of a mile; which, however, -first passes to another clock close to the gun, and thus affords a short -fraction of a second _before_ one o’clock for the train of processes; so -that the actual final flash of the exploding gun in the Castle occurs -absolutely coincidently with the tick of the sixtieth second of the -corrected mean-time clock in the Royal Observatory. The whole is well -described by Professor Piazzi Smith, Astronomer-Royal for Scotland, in -_Good Words_, 1862, part iv. - -We now return to the details of the great London Clocks. Mr. Dent -undertook the construction of the Royal Exchange Clock in 1843: it was -required to be superior to any public clock in England, and to satisfy -certain conditions proposed for the first time by the Astronomer-Royal, -and such as could not be satisfied by any clock of the common -construction. Mr. Dent had then no factory of his own for making large -clocks, and he could not get the clock made for him; “but with the -energy and genius by which that remarkable man raised himself from a -tallow-chandler’s apprentice to the position of the first horologist in -the world, he set up a factory for himself at a great expense, and made -the clock there; and of this, the first turret-clock he had ever made, -the Astronomer-Royal certified, in 1845, that it not only satisfied his -conditions, but that Mr. Dent had made some judicious improvements upon -his suggestions, and that he had no doubt it was the best public clock -in the world.”[16] It is true to a second of time, and has a -compensation-pendulum. - -The Westminster Palace Clock, designed by Mr. Denison, has four dials, -each 22½ feet wide: they are not the largest in the world, being -considerably less than the dial at Mechlin; but there is no other clock -in the world which has to work four dials of such great width, -especially a clock going 8½ days. St. Paul’s Clock has only two 17-feet -dials, and is wound up every day, which makes a vast difference in the -power and strength required. Each pair of hands weighs above 2 cwt.: -they are made of gun-metal, instead of sheet-iron or copper. The -hour-sockets are iron tubes, 5 inches in diameter; the dials are of -cast-iron framework, filled with opal glass, and stand out 5 feet from -the main walls. - -The size of public dials is often very inadequate to their height, and -the distance at which they are intended to be seen. They ought to be at -least one foot in diameter for every ten feet of height above the -ground, and in many cases more, whenever the dial will be seen far off. -Now, the clock-dials of St. Pancras, Euston-square, are but 6½ feet in -diameter, though at the height of 100 feet, and therefore are much too -small. - -The Clock, of silver-gilt, presented by Henry VIII. to Anne Boleyn on -the morning of their marriage, is one of the earliest chamber-clocks in -the kingdom: the case is richly chased and engraved, and on the weights -are the initial letters of Henry and Anne, with true-lovers’ knots. This -clock was purchased at the Strawberry Hill sale in the year 1842, for -110_l._, and is now in the collection of Queen Victoria. - -We may here mention that the late Duke of Sussex possessed, at -Kensington Palace, an invaluable collection of the early as well as the -most perfect specimens of Time-keepers, among which was “Harrison’s -first Clock, the forerunner of that invaluable machine, without which -the compass itself would be but an imperfect guide to the mariner.”[17] - - John Harrison received for his improved chronometers, in 1749, the - Copley Medal; and, thus encouraged by the Royal Society, and by the - hope of sharing the reward of 20,000_l._ offered by Parliament for - the discovery of the longitude, Harrison produced in 1758 a - time-keeper, which was sent for trial on a voyage to Jamaica. After - 161 days, the error of the instrument was only one minute five - seconds, and the maker received from the nation 5000_l._ For other - chronometers, subjected, with perfect success, to a trial in a - voyage to Barbadoes, Harrison received 10,000_l._ more. Dr. Stukeley - writes of this ingenious man: “I passed by Mr. Harrison’s house at - Barrow, that excellent genius of clock-making, who bids fair for the - golden prize for the discovery of the longitude. I saw his famous - clock last winter at Mr. George Graham’s: the sweetness of its - motion, the contrivances to take off friction, to defeat the - lengthening and shortening of the pendulum through heat and cold, - and to prevent the disturbance of motion by that of the ship, cannot - be sufficiently admired.”—_Ms. Journal._[18] - -An exact measure of time is of the utmost importance to many of the -sciences. Horology is indispensable to astronomy, in which the variation -even of two or three seconds is of the greatest consequence. By means of -a clock the Danish astronomer, Roemer, was enabled to discover that the -eclipses of Jupiter’s satellites took place a few seconds later than he -had calculated, when the earth was in that part of its orbit the -farthest from Jupiter. Speculating on the cause of this phenomenon, he -calculated that light was not propagated instantaneously, but took time -to reach us; and, from calculations founded on this theory, light has -been discovered to dart through space with a velocity of about 192,000 -miles in a second: thus, the light of the sun takes eight minutes to -reach the earth. - -Horology has also enabled us to discover that when the wind passes one -mile per hour, it is scarcely perceptible; while at the rate of one -hundred miles per hour it acquires sufficient force to tear up trees, -and destroy the produce of the earth. And, without the aid of a -seconds-clock, it would have been scarcely possible to ascertain that a -cannon-ball flies at the rate of 600 feet in a second. - -The use of Chronometers in geography and navigation is well known; since -it is only necessary to ascertain the exact difference in time between -two places, to determine their distance east or west of each other. - -Graham applied the motion of a Clock showing sidereal time to make a -telescope point in the direction of any particular star, even when -before the horizon. - -Alexander Cummins made a Clock for George III. which registered the -height of the barometer during every day throughout the year. This was -effected by a circular card, of about 2 feet in diameter, being made to -turn round once in a year. The card was divided by radii lines into 365 -divisions, the months and days of the month being marked round the edge, -while the usual range of the barometer was indicated in inches and -tenths by circular lines described from the centre. A pencil with a fine -point pressed on the card by a spring, and, held by an upright rod -floating on the mercury, faithfully marked the state of the barometer; -the card, being carried forward by the clock, brought each day to the -pencil. Wren proposed to have a clock constructed on a similar -principle, to register the position and force of the wind; which idea -has been adopted. - -In the Armoury of George IV. was a model of a small cannon, with a clock -attached to the lock in such a manner that the trigger could be -discharged at any desired time by setting the clock as an alarum. - -Breguet contrived a Clock to set a Watch to time. This clock is of the -size of a chamber-clock, and has a fork and support on a top to carry -the watch. When the clock strikes twelve, a piece of steel like a needle -rises, and entering a hole in the rim of the watch-case, comes in -contact with a piece which carries the minute-hand, and by pressure -makes the hand of the watch correspond with that of the clock, provided -the difference be not more than twenty minutes. - -The same artist constructed for George IV. a Chronometer which had two -pendulums, one making the machine show mean time, the other to make it -act as a metronome by beating the time for music. This pendulum was -merely a small ball attached to a slight chain carried round a pulley, -on the centre of which was an index, which, when brought to any of the -musical measures engraved on the scale, shortened or lengthened the -chain, so as to cause the pendulum to perform its oscillations in the -time required, and a hammer struck on a bell the beats contained in each -bar; these would be silently struck by placing a piece of wood between -the hammer and the bell; the musical time was also indicated by the -seconds-hand of the clock. - -A certain dynamical theory of chemistry has been propounded, founded -upon precipitations and decompositions taking place in a definite space. -Time forms, too, the very key by which alone we can be admitted to a -proper view of the archives of the ancient world. Want of time for the -due development of the geological periods, for a long season, hindered -men’s conceptions upon this subject from taking a sharp, clear cast of -thought. Linnæus constructed a _Clock of Flora_—a dial of flowers, each -opening and shutting at an appointed time.[19] - -By a series of comparisons with Pendulums placed at the surface and the -interior of the earth, the Astronomer-Royal has ascertained the -variation of gravity in descending to the bottom of a deep mine, as the -Harton coal-pit, near South Shields. By calculations from these -experiments, he has found the mean density of the earth to be 6·566, the -specific gravity of water being represented by unity. In other words, it -has been ascertained by these experiments that if the earth’s mass -possessed every where its average density, it would weigh, bulk for -bulk, 6·566 times as much as water. The immediate result of the -computations of the Astronomer-Royal is: supposing a clock adjusted to -go true time at the top of the mine, it would gain 2¼ seconds per day at -the bottom. Or it may be stated thus: that gravity is greater at the -bottom of a mine than at the top by 1/19190th part.[20] - -The Electric Clock is an invention of our own time. An ordinary clock -consists essentially of a series of wheels acting on each other, and -carrying round, as they revolve, the hands which mark the seconds, -minutes, and hours. The wheels are moved by the falling of a weight, or -the unwinding of a spring; and the rate at which they revolve is -determined by the length of a pendulum made to oscillate by the wheels. -In electric or (as they should rather be called) electro-magnetic -clocks, there are neither weights nor springs; so that they never run -down, and never require to be wound up. To produce motion, electricity -is employed alternately to make and remake an electro-magnet, or -alternately to reverse the poles of a permanent magnet, which, by -lifting up and letting fall, or attracting and repelling a lever, moves -the wheels. - -M. Bouilly endeavoured to show that character was much influenced by -Time-keepers. He describes two young persons who were allowed to select -Watches for themselves: one chose a plain watch, being told that its -performance could be depended on; the other, attracted by the elegance -of a case, decided upon one of inferior construction. The possessor of -the good Watch became remarkable for punctuality; while the other, -although always in a hurry, was never in time, and discovered that, next -to being too late, there is nothing worse than being too early. - -The choice of a good Watch is, however, a difficult matter: none but a -good workman is capable of forming a correct opinion; and a Watch must -be bad indeed for an inexperienced eye to detect the errors either of -the principle or its construction; even a trial of a year or two is no -proof, for wear seldom takes place within that time; and while a good -Watch can but go well, a bad one, by chance, may occasionally do so. - -A Watch must not only be well constructed, and on a good principle, but -the brass must be hard, and the steel properly tempered. The several -parts must be in exact proportion, and well finished, so as to continue -in motion with the least possible wear. It must also be so made that, -when taken to pieces, all its parts may be replaced as firmly as before. - -A bad Watch is one in which no more attention has been paid to the -proportion of the parts, or durability of the material, than was -necessary to make it perform for a time: it is either the production of -inefficient workmen, or of those who, being limited in price, are unable -to give sufficient time to perfect the work. In some instances these -Watches will go well for a time; but as they wear, from friction, they -require frequent repair, which cannot be effectually done. - -The most useful lesson is, that low price is not exactly another word -for cheapness. If you wish to possess a good Watch, apply to a maker of -known honesty and ability in the art he professes, and who, therefore, -should be implicitly trusted. - -It has been said, that “no man ever made a true circle, or a straight -line, except by chance;” and the same may be said of any machine which -measured time exactly; indeed, positive accuracy can never be attained -until an unchangeable material is discovered, of which the works may be -constructed. These practical instructions are by Mr. Adam Thomson. - -How beautifully has Lord Herbert of Cherbury sung “to his Watch when he -could not sleep:” - - Uncessant minutes, whilst you move you tell - The time that tells our life, which though it run - Never so fast or far, your new begun - Short steps shall overtake: for though life well - May ’scape his own account, it shall not yours. - You are Death’s auditors, that both divide - And sum whate’er that life inspir’d endures, - Past a beginning; and through you we bide - The doom of fate, whose unrecall’d decree - You date, bring, execute; making what’s new, - Ill, and good, old; for as we die in you, - You die in time, time in eternity. - - --------------------- -Footnote 13: - - _Archæologia_, vol. xxxvii. - -Footnote 14: - - Cunningham’s _Handbook_, 2d edit. p. 386. If this inscription be - correct, it negatives the claim of Huyghens to having first applied - the pendulum to the clock, about 1657; although Justus Bergen, - mechanician to the Emperor Rodolphus, who reigned from 1576 to 1612, - is said to have attached one to a clock used by Tycho Brahe. Inigo - Jones, the architect of St. Paul’s, having been in Italy during the - time of Galileo, it is probable that he communicated what he heard of - the pendulum to Harris. Huyghens, however, violently contested for the - priority; while others claimed it for the younger Galileo, who, they - asserted, had, at his father’s suggestion, applied the pendulum to a - clock in Venice which was finished in 1649.—Adam Thomson’s _Time and - Timekeepers_, pp. 67, 68. - -Footnote 15: - - Nares’s _Glossary_. - -Footnote 16: - - _Denison on Clocks._ - -Footnote 17: - - _Adam Thomson._ - -Footnote 18: - - There is an odd traditionary story told of a Watch at Somerset House. - A little above the entrance-door to the Stamps and Taxes is a white - watch-face,—of which it is told, that when the wall was being built, a - workman had the misfortune to fall from the scaffolding, and was only - saved from destruction by the ribbon of his watch, which caught in a - piece of projecting work. In thankful remembrance of his wonderful - preservation, he is said to have inserted his watch into the face of - the wall. Such is the popular belief, and hundreds of persons go to - Somerset House to see this fancied memento, and hear the above tale. - But the watch-face was placed in its present position many years ago - by the Royal Society, as a meridian mark for a portable transit - instrument in one of the windows of the anteroom. Captain Smyth - assisted in mounting the instrument, and perfectly recollects the - watch-face placed against the opposite wall. - -Footnote 19: - - _The Relations of Science_, by J. M. Ashley. - -Footnote 20: - - _Letter to James Mather, Esq., South Shields._ See also _Professor - Airy’s Lecture_, 1854. Baily approximately weighed the earth by - another contrivance, described and illustrated in _Things not - generally Known_, First Series, which see. - - ---------------------------- - - - EARLY RISING. - - Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see - The dew-bespangling herb and tree; - Each flower has wept and bowed towards th’ east - Above an hour since, yet you are not drest; - Nay, not so much as out of bed, - When all the birds have matins said, - And sung their thankful hymns.—_Herrick._ - -“Up with the sun” implies, in common parlance, very early habits, of -difficult attainment. But, “we rise with the sun at Christmas: it were -but continuing to do so till the middle of April, and without any -perceptible change we should find ourselves then rising at five o’clock; -at which hour we might continue till September, and then accommodate -ourselves again to the change of season, regulating always the time of -retiring in the same proportion. They who require eight hours sleep -would, upon such a system, go to bed at nine during four months.” - -Thus wrote Southey, in his loved sojourn upon the Derwent, of which he -says: - - Hither I came in manhood’s active prime, - And here my head hath felt the touch of time. - -In our great Public Schools, Early Rising appears to have been practised -from very remote periods. A manuscript document, showing the system at -Eton College about the year 1560, records that the boys rose at five to -the loud call of “Surgite;” they repeated a prayer in alternate verses -as they dressed themselves, and then made their beds, and each swept the -part of the chamber close to his bed. They then went in a row to wash, -and then to the school, where the under-master read prayers at six; then -the præpositor noted absentees, and one examined the students’ faces and -hands, and reported any boys that came unwashed. - -The great Lord Burghley, when at St. John’s College, Cambridge, was -distinguished by the regularity of his conduct, and the intensity of his -application: that he might early devote several hours to study, without -any hazard of interruption, he was called up by the bell-ringer every -morning at four o’clock. Such was the educational basis upon which Cecil -laid the foundation of his brilliant but sound reputation; and by which -means, conjoined with the strong natural gift of sagacity, and a mind -tinctured with piety, he acquired the esteem and confidence successively -of three sovereigns, and held the situation of prime minister of England -for upwards of half a century. - -Of Sir Edward Coke’s laborious course of study at the Inner Temple, we -have some interesting records. Every morning at three, in the winter -season lighting his own fire, he read Bracton, Littleton, the Year -Books, and the folio Abridgments of the Law, till the courts met at -eight. He then went by water to Westminster, and heard cases argued till -twelve, when pleas ceased for dinner. After a short repast in the Inner -Temple Hall, he attended “readings” or lectures in the afternoon, and -then resumed his private studies till five, or supper-time. This meal -being ended, the _moots_ took place, when difficult questions of law -were proposed and discussed,—if the weather was fine, in the garden by -the river-side; if it rained, in the covered walks near the Temple -Church. Finally, he shut himself up in his chamber, and worked at his -common-place book, in which he inserted, under the proper heads, all the -legal information he had collected during the day. When nine o’clock -struck, he retired to bed, that he might have an equal portion of sleep -before and after midnight.[21] - -Bishop Ken, when a scholar at William of Wykeham’s College at -Winchester, in the words of his fellow Wykehamist, the Rev. W. Lisle -Bowles, on the glimmering and cold wintry mornings, would perhaps repeat -to himself—watching the slow morning through the grated window—one of -the beautiful ancient hymns composed for the scholars on the foundation: - - Jam lucis ordo sydere - Deum precemur supplices, - Ut in diurnis actibus - Nos servet a nocentibus. - - Now the star of morning light - Rises on the rear of night; - Suppliant to our God we pray, - From ills to guard us through this day. - -Rising before the others, he had little to do except apply a candle to a -large fagot, in winter, which had been already laid. - -Ken composed a devotional Manual for the use of the Winchester scholars; -but his most interesting compositions are those affecting and beautiful -hymns which were sung by himself, and written to be sung in the chambers -of the boys, before chapel in the morning, and before they lay down on -their small boarded beds at night. Of Ken’s own custom of singing his -hymn to the Creator at the earliest dawn, Hawkins, his biographer, -relates, “that neither his (Ken’s) study might be the aggressor on his -hours of instruction, nor what he judged duty prevent his improvement, -he strictly accustomed himself to but one hour’s sleep, which obliged -him to rise at one or two o’clock in the morning, or sometimes earlier; -and he seemed to go to rest with no other purpose than the refreshing -and enabling him with more vigour and cheerfulness to sing his Morning -Hymn, as he used to do, to his lute, before he put on his clothes.” When -he composed those delicious hymns, he was in the fresh morn of life; and -who does not feel his heart in unison with that delightful season, when -such a strain as this is heard? - - Awake, my soul, and with the sun - Thy daily stage of duty run; - Shake off dull sloth, and early rise - To pay thy morning sacrifice. - * * * * - Lord, I my vows to thee renew; - Disperse my sins as morning dew. - -May we not also say that when the evening hymn is heard, like the sounds -that bid farewell to evening’s parting plaint, it fills the silent heart -with devotion and repose? - - All praise to thee, my God, this night - For all the blessings of the light; - Keep me, oh, keep me, King of kings, - Under thine own almighty wings. - - Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son, - The ills that I this day have done; - That with the world, myself, and thee, - I, ere I sleep, at peace may be. - -Ken died, Bishop of Bath and Wells, in 1711, in his 74th year, and was -carried to his grave, in Frome churchyard, by six of the poorest men of -the parish, and buried under the eastern window of the church, at -_sunrise_, in reference to the words of his Morning Hymn: - - - Awake, my soul, and _with the sun_. - -The same words are sung, to the same tune, every Sunday, by the parish -children, in the church of Frome, and over the grave of him who composed -the words, and sung them himself, to the same air, nearly two centuries -since. - -Rubens, the consummate painter, enlightened scholar, skilful -diplomatist, and accomplished man of the world, was in the habit of -rising very early,—in summer at four o’clock; and he made it a law of -his life to begin the day by prayer. After this he went to work, and -before his first meal made those beautiful sketches known by the name of -_breakfast sketches_. While painting, he habitually employed a person to -read to him from one of the classical authors (his favourites being -Livy, Plutarch, Cicero, Seneca), or from some eminent poet. This was the -time when he generally received his visitors, with whom he entered -willingly into conversation on a variety of topics in the most animated -and agreeable manner. An hour before dinner was always devoted to -recreation; which consisted either in allowing his thoughts to dwell, as -they listed, on subjects connected with science or politics,—which -latter interested him deeply,—or in contemplating his treasures of art. -As work was his great happiness, he indulged but sparingly in the -pleasures of the table, and drank but little wine. After working again -till the evening, he usually mounted a spirited Andalusian horse, and -rode for an hour or two. On his return home, he customarily received a -few friends, principally men of learning, or artists, to partake of a -frugal supper, and passed the evening in conversation. This active and -regular mode of life could alone have enabled Rubens to satisfy all the -demands which were made upon him as an artist; for, including copies, -the engravings from works of Rubens amount to more than 1500; and the -astonishing number of his works, the genuineness of which is beyond all -doubt, can only be accounted for by his union of extraordinary diligence -with the acknowledged fertility of his productive powers. - -John Wesley, at an early age, was sent to the Charter-house, where he -suffered under the tyranny which the elder boys were permitted to -exercise. The boys of the higher forms were then in the practice of -taking their portion of meat from the younger ones, by the law of the -strongest; and during great part of the time that Wesley remained there, -a small daily portion of bread was his only food. He strictly performed -an injunction of his father’s, that he should run round the -Charter-house playing-green, of three acres, three times every morning; -and to this early practice he attributed his great length of days. - -Wesley satisfied himself of the expediency of rising early by -experiment, which he describes thus: - - I waked every night about twelve or one, and lay awake for some - time. I readily concluded that this arose from my being longer in - bed than nature required. To be satisfied, I procured an alarum, - which waked me the next morning at seven (near an hour earlier than - I rose the day before), yet I lay awake again at night. The second - morning I rose at six; notwithstanding this I lay awake the second - night. The third morning I rose at five; nevertheless I lay awake - the third night. The fourth morning I rose at four, as I have done - ever since; and I lay awake no more. And I do not now lie awake, - taking the year round, a quarter of an hour together in a month. By - the same experiment, rising earlier and earlier every morning, may - one find out how much sleep he really wants. - -But Wesley’s moderation in sleep, and his rigid constancy in rising -early, admit of explanation. Mr. Bradburn, who travelled with him almost -constantly for years, said that Wesley generally slept several hours in -the course of the day; that he had himself seen him sleep three hours -together often enough. This was chiefly in his carriage, in which he -accustomed himself to sleep on his journeys as regularly, as easily, and -as soundly, as if he had gone to bed. - -When at Oxford, he formed for himself a scheme of studies: Mondays and -Tuesdays were allotted for the Classics; Wednesdays to logic and ethics; -Thursdays to Hebrew and Arabic; Fridays to metaphysics and natural -philosophy; Saturdays to oratory and poetry, but chiefly to composition -in those arts; and the Sabbath to divinity. It appears by his diary, -also, that he gave great attention to mathematics. Full of business as -he now was, he found time for writing by rising an hour earlier in the -morning, and going into company an hour later in the evening: he had -generally from ten to twelve hours in the day which he could devote to -study: and thus he became alike familiar with the literature of his day, -as well as with that of past ages. - -Dr. Philip Doddridge attributes the production of his various writings -to his rising early; adding, “the difference between rising at five and -seven o’clock in the morning for the space of forty years, supposing a -man to go to bed at the same hour at night, is nearly equivalent to the -addition of ten years to his life.” - -Through life, Gibbon the historian was a very early riser. Before the -first volume of his _Decline and Fall_ had given him celebrity, six -o’clock was his usual hour of rising: fashionable parties and the House -of Commons brought him down to eight. - -The day of the profound German philosopher, Immanuel Kant, was begun -early. Precisely at five minutes before five o’clock, winter or summer, -Lampe, Kant’s servant, who had formerly served in the army, marched into -his master’s room with the air of a sentinel on duty, and cried aloud in -a military tone, “Mr. Professor, the time is come.” This summons Kant -invariably obeyed without one moment’s delay, as a soldier does the word -of command—never, under any circumstances, allowing himself a respite, -not even under the rare accident of having passed a sleepless night. As -the clock struck five, Kant was seated at the breakfast-table, where he -drank what he called _one_ cup of tea, and no doubt he thought it such; -but the fact was, that, in part from his habit of reverie, and in part -also for the purpose of refreshing its warmth, he filled up his cup so -often, that in general he is supposed to have drunk two, three, or some -unknown number. Immediately after, he smoked a pipe of tobacco; during -which operation he thought over his arrangements for the day, as he had -done the evening before during the twilight. - -Thomson, who has advocated early rising more eloquently than any other -writer, was himself an indolent man; he usually lay in bed till noon, -and his principal time for composition was midnight. One of his early -pictures is: - - When from the opening chambers of the east, - The morning springs, in thousand liveries drest, - The early larks their morning tribute pay, - And in shrill notes salute the blooming day. - * * * * - The crowing cock and chattering hen awakes - Dull sleepy clowns, who know the morning breaks. - In his Golden Age of Innocence— - The first fresh dawn then waked the gladdened race - Of uncorrupted man, nor blushed to see - The sluggard sleep beneath its sacred beam, - Then, his charming Summer morn: - Falsely luxurious, will not man awake, - And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy - The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, - To meditation due, and sacred song? - For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise? - To lie in dead oblivion, losing half - The fleeting moments of too short a life,— - Total extinction of the enlightened soul! - Or else to feverish vanity alive, - Wildered, and tossing through distempered dreams! - Who would in such a gloomy state remain - Longer than Nature craves; when every muse - And every blooming pleasure wait without, - To bless the wildly devious morning walk? - -Lord Chatham, writing to his nephew, January 12, 1754, says: _Vitanda -est improba Syren, Desidia_, I desire may be affixed to the curtains of -your bedchamber. If you do not rise early, you can never make any -progress worth mentioning. If you do not set apart your hours of -reading, if you suffer yourself or any one else to break in upon them, -your days will slip through your hands unprofitably and frivolously, -unpraised by all you wish to please, and really unenjoyed by yourself. - -Harford relates of Dr. Burgess, Bishop of Salisbury: - - Of his literary labours and self-denying life, writes a clergyman, - “few can have any conception. I was frequently admitted to see him - on business, even as early as six in the morning, when, rather than - detain me, he has seen me in his dressing-room. Often he kindly - remarked, ‘Your time is not your own, and is as precious to you as - mine; scruple not to send to me when you really want to see me.’ On - one of my early morning visits, about eight o’clock, in the winter, - I found him seated in his greatcoat and hat, writing at a table, in - a room without a carpet, the floor covered with old folios, and his - candles only just extinguished. ‘I have been writing and reading,’ - he said, ’since five o’clock.’ At another time I breakfasted with - him one morning, by appointment, at his hotel in town; and found him - at eight o’clock, about Christmas, writing by candlelight; the whole - room being strewed with old books, collected from various places in - the metropolis. The untiring perseverance with which he prosecuted - his researches for evidence on any particular subject is - inconceivable.” - -Sir Astley Cooper, in one of his Lectures to his pupils, used to say: -“The means by which I preserve my own health are: temperance, early -rising, and sponging my body every morning with cold water,—a practice I -have pursued for thirty years; and though I go from this heated theatre -into the squares of the Hospital in the severest winter-nights, with -merely silk stockings on my legs, yet I scarcely ever have a cold. An -old Scotch physician, for whom I had a great respect, and whom I -frequently met professionally in the City, used to say, as we were -entering the patient’s room, ‘Weel, Mister Cooper, we ha’ only twa -things to keep in meend, and they’ll sarve us for here and herea’ter: -one is always to have the fear of the Laird before our ees, that ’ill do -for herea’ter; and the t’other is to keep your booels open, and that -will do for here.’” - -William Cobbett, who had great contempt for conventionalities, was an -early riser from his boyhood,—when his first occupation was driving the -small birds from the turnip-seed and the rooks from the peas; when he -trudged with his wooden bottle and his satchel, and was hardly able to -climb the gates and stiles; when he weeded wheat, and had a single horse -at harrowing barley; drove the team, or held the plough—which -employments he apostrophises as “Honest pride, and happy days!” He tells -us that to the husbanding well of his time he owed his extraordinary -promotion in the army. He says: “I was always ready: if I had to mount -guard at ten, I was ready at nine; never did any man or any thing wait -one moment for me. Being at an age under twenty years, raised from -Corporal to Sergeant-Major at once, over the heads of thirty Sergeants, -I naturally should have been an object of envy and hatred; but the habit -of early rising really subdued these passions; because every one felt -that what I did he had never done, and never could do. Before my -promotion, a clerk was wanted to make out the morning report of the -regiment. I rendered the clerk unnecessary; and long before any other -man was dressed for the parade, my work for the morning was all done, -and I myself was on the parade, walking, in fine weather, for an hour -perhaps. My custom was this: to get up in summer at daylight, and in -winter at four o’clock; shave, dress, and even to the putting of the -sword-belt over my shoulder, and having the sword lying on the table -before me, ready to hang by my side. Then I ate a bit of cheese, or -pork, and bread. Then I prepared my report, which was filled up as fast -as the companies brought me in the materials. After this I had an hour -or two to read, before the time came for my duty out of doors, unless -when the regiment, or part of it, went out to exercise in the morning. -When this was the case, and the matter was left to me, I always had it -on the ground in such time as that the bayonets glistened in the rising -sun; a sight which gave me delight, of which I often think, but which I -should in vain endeavour to describe. When I was commander, the men had -a long day of leisure before them: they could ramble into the town or -into the woods; go to get raspberries, to catch birds, to catch fish, or -to pursue any other recreation; and such of them as chose and were -qualified, to work at their trades. So that here, arising solely from -the early habits of one very young man, were pleasant and happy days -given to hundreds.” - -Elsewhere Cobbett addresses this advice “to a lover:” “Early rising is a -mark of industry; and though, in the higher situations of life, it may -be of no importance in a mere pecuniary point of view, it is, even -there, of importance in other respects: for it is, I should imagine, -pretty difficult to keep love alive towards a woman who never sees the -dew, never beholds the rising sun, and who constantly comes directly -from a reeking bed to the breakfast-table, and there chews about without -appetite the choicest morsels of human food. A man might, perhaps, -endure this for a month or two without being disgusted; but that is -ample allowance of time. And as to people in the middle rank of life, -where a living and a provision for children is to be sought by labour of -some sort or other, late rising in the wife is certain ruin; and never -was there yet an early-rising wife who had been a late-rising girl. If -brought up to late rising, she will like it; it will be her habit; she -will, when married, never want excuses for indulging in the habit: at -first she will be indulged without bounds; to make change afterwards -will be difficult; it will be deemed a wrong done to her; she will -ascribe it to diminished affection; a quarrel must ensue, or the husband -must submit to be ruined, or, at the very least, to see half the fruit -of his labour snored and lounged away. And is this being rigid? is it -being harsh? is it being hard upon women? Is it the offspring of the -frigid severity of the age? It is none of these: it arises from an -ardent desire to promote the happiness, and to add to the natural, -legitimate, and salutary influence of the female sex. The tendency of -this advice is to promote the preservation of their health; to prolong -the duration of their beauty; to cause them to be beloved to the last -day of their lives; and to give them, during the whole of their lives, -weight and consequence, of which laziness would render them wholly -unworthy.” - -When Cobbett had become a public writer, he constantly inveighed against -those who - - O’er books consumed the midnight oil. - -In country or in town, at Barn Elms, in Bolt-court, or at Kensington, he -wrote his Registers early in the morning: these, it must be admitted, -had force enough; for he said truly, “Though I never attempt to put -forth that sort of stuff which the intense people on the other side of -the Channel call _eloquence_, I bring out strings of very interesting -facts; I use pretty powerful arguments; and I hammer them down so -closely upon the mind, that they seldom fail to produce a lasting -impression.” This he owed, doubtless, to his industry, early rising, and -methodical habits. - -Daniel Webster, the famous American statesman, unlike most men of his -day, usually went to bed by nine o’clock, and rose very early in the -morning. General Lynian had heard Webster say, that while in Washington, -there were periods when he shaved and dressed himself for six months -together by candlelight. The morning was his time for study, writing, -thinking, and all kinds of mental labour: from the moment when the first -streak of dawn was seen in the east, till nine or ten o’clock in the -forenoon, scarcely a moment was lost; and it was then that his work was -principally done. Persons who occasionally called upon him as early as -ten in the morning, and found him ready to converse with them, wondered -when he did his work; for they knew that he did work, yet they rarely, -if ever, found him, like other men of business, engaged. The truth was, -that when their day’s work began, his ended; and while they were -indulging in their morning dreams, Webster was up, looking “quite -through the deeds of men.” This habit, followed from his youth, enabled -him to make those remarkable acquisitions of knowledge on all subjects, -and afforded him so much leisure to devote to his friends. - -The college-life of Albert, Prince Consort of Queen Victoria, presents -us with some of the beneficial results of the habit of early rising. The -people of England were not a little surprised, at first, to hear that -the Queen and the royal Consort were seen walking together at a very -early hour on the morning of the very day after their marriage. But, -while at Bonn, Prince Albert was particularly distinguished from the -other students of the same rank for the salutary habit of getting up -early, one which he had uniformly persevered in from his boyhood: -therefore, it is very natural that he should have adhered to it after he -had come of age, whether in England or in any other country, and be -likely to do so all the days of his life. At Bonn, the prince generally -rose about half-past five o’clock in the morning, and never prolonged -his repose after six. From that hour up to seven in the evening, he -assiduously devoted his whole time to his studies, with the exception of -an interval of three hours, which he allowed himself for dinner and -recreation. At seven he usually went out, and paid visits to those -individuals or families who were honoured with his acquaintance.[22] - -To these instances of the remarkable labours which have been -accomplished by rising early, it can scarcely be considered necessary to -add any thing to enforce the benefits to be derived from the practice. -Nevertheless, something has been said on the other side. An able -essayist has urged that most people who get up unusually early find that -there is nothing to do when they are dressed. There are comparatively -few mornings in the year when it is pleasant to take an hour’s walk -before breakfast in the country. Then, if the early riser stays within -doors, the sitting-rooms are not ready for his reception. Among the -physical inconveniences, this writer shows that the early riser, if not -tormented with a consequent headache, is often troubled with a feeling -of sleepiness and heaviness through the latter part of the day; and, as -far as time goes, he is apt to lose afterwards much more, while he in -some way or other compensates himself for his activity, than he gained -by the extra hour we are supposing him to have had early in the morning. -Then, the moral effect on the early riser, it is said, is to cause in -him an exuberant feeling of conscious goodness: he has performed a feat -which raises him, by his moral self-approval, above ordinary people, who -merely come down to breakfast. There is some truth in all this, which, -however, we think to be the exception rather than the rule; for if early -rising be the general practice in a house, these minor inconveniences -will soon disappear. The above writer is inclined to allow that the -objections to early rising may too exclusively rest on exceptional -cases. He admits, with great fairness, in favour of the practice, that -“if the spare hour can be turned to serious profit, so much the better. -Coming at the beginning of the day, it finds the mind tranquil, -sanguine, and fresh. The time it gives is likely to be free from -interruptions; and the good effect of the study will tell more -powerfully than when it has, as it were, the whole day in its grasp, -than if it were merely slipt in among the other thoughts and occupations -of busier hours. Health, too, is said to profit by early rising; and so -many people have stated this as a fact, that it may perhaps be taken for -granted.”[23] - - --------------------- -Footnote 21: - - See _School-days of Eminent Men_, by the Author of the present volume. - Second edition, 1862. - -Footnote 22: - - _History of the University of Bonn._ - -Footnote 23: - - _Saturday Review_, March 26, 1859. - - ---------------------------- - - - THE ART OF EMPLOYING TIME. - -The Aristotelian philosopher has well expressed its value by saying, -“Nothing is more precious than time; and those who misspend it are the -greatest of all prodigals.” - -Again: - - The time of life is short: - To spend that shortness basely, were too long - If life did ride upon a dial’s point, - Still ending at the arrival of an hour. - -Fuller has this quaint instruction upon our present topic: “Lay down -such rules to thyself, of observing stated hours for study and business, -as no man shall be able to persuade thee to recede from. For when thy -resolutions are once known, as no man of ingenuity will disturb thee, so -thou wilt find this method will become not only more practicable, but of -singular benefit in abundance of things. - -“He that loseth his morning studies, gives an ill precedent to the -afternoon, and makes such a hole in the beginning of the day, that all -the winged hours will be in danger of flying out thereat: think how much -work is behind; how slow thou hast wrought in thy time that is past; and -what a reckoning thou shouldst make, if thy Master should call thee this -day to thine account. - -“There is no man so miserable as he that is at a loss how to spend his -time. He is restless in his thoughts, unsteady in his counsels, -dissatisfied with the present, solicitous for the future. - -“Be always employed; thou wilt never be better pleased than when thou -hast something to do. For business, by its motion, brings heat and life -to the spirits; but idleness corrupts them like standing water. - -“Make use of time, if thou valuest eternity. Yesterday cannot be -recalled; to-morrow cannot be assured; to-day only is thine, which if -thou procrastinatest, thou losest; which loss is lost for ever.” - -Dr. South, in one of his nervous Discourses, speaking of the uncertainty -of the present, says: “The sun shines in his full brightness but the -very moment before he passes under a cloud. Who knows what a day, what -an hour may bring forth? He who builds upon the present, builds upon the -narrow compass of a point; and where the foundation is so narrow, the -superstructure cannot be high and strong too.” - -Sir William Jones, the profound scholar, of whom it was said that if he -were left naked and friendless on Salisbury-plain he would nevertheless -find the road to fame and riches, left among his manuscripts the -following lines on the management of his time, which he had written in -India, on a small piece of paper: - - _Sir Edward Coke:_ - - Six hours in sleep, in law’s great study six; - Four spend in prayer—the rest on nature fix. - - _Rather:_ - - Seven hours to law, to soothing slumbers seven; - Ten to the world allot, and all to heaven. - -Dr. Johnson has moralised on Money and Time as “the heaviest burdens of -life;” adding, “the unhappiest of mortals are those who have more of -either than they know how to use. To set himself free from these -incumbrances, one hurries to Newmarket; another travels over Europe; one -pulls down his house, and calls architects about him; another buys a -seat in the country, and follows his hounds over hedges and through -rivers; one makes collections of shells; and another searches the world -for tulips and carnations.” - -Elsewhere Johnson has these pertinent remarks: “Among those who have -contributed to the advancement of learning, many have risen to eminence -in opposition to all the obstacles which external circumstances could -place in their way,—amidst the tumults of business, the distresses of -poverty, or the dissipation of a wandering and unsettled state. A great -part of the life of Erasmus was one continued peregrination: ill -supplied with the gifts of fortune, and led from city to city and from -kingdom to kingdom by the hopes of patrons and preferment, hopes which -always flattered and always deceived him, he yet found means, by -unshaken constancy and a vigilant improvement of those hours which in -the midst of the most restless activity will remain unengaged, to write -more than another in the same condition could have hoped to read. -Compelled by want to attendance and solicitation, and so much versed in -common life that he has transmitted to us the most perfect delineation -of the manners of his age, he joined to his knowledge of the world such -application to books, that he will stand for ever in the first rank of -literary heroes. Now, this proficiency he sufficiently discovers, by -informing us that the _Praise of Folly_, one of his most celebrated -performances, was composed by him on the road to Italy, lest the hours -which he was obliged to spend on horseback should be tattled away, -without regard to literature.” - -These are two memorable instances of the employment of minute portions -of time. We are told of Queen Elizabeth, that, except when engaged by -public or domestic affairs, and the exercises necessary for the -preservation of her health and spirits, she was always employed in -either reading or writing, in translating from other authors, or in -compositions of her own; and that, notwithstanding she spent much of her -time in reading the best writings of her own and former ages, yet she by -no means neglected that best of books, the Bible; for proof of which, -take the Queen’s own words: “I walk many times in the pleasant fields of -the Holy Scriptures, where I pluck up the godlisome herbs of sentences -by pruning, eat them by reading, digest them by musing, and lay them up -at length in the high seat of memory by gathering them together; that -so, having tasted their sweetness, I may the less perceive the -bitterness of life.” Her piety and great good sense were undeniable. - -The Chancellor of France, D’Aguesseau, finding that his wife always kept -him waiting a quarter of an hour after the dinner-bell had rung, -resolved to devote the time to writing a book on jurisprudence; and -putting the subject in execution, in course of time produced a work in -four quarto volumes. His literary tastes greatly distinguished him from -the mass of mere lawyers. - -He whose mind the world wholly occupies imagines that no time can be -spared for divine duties. But many circumstances in the lives of good -men inform him that he is mistaken. The wise statesman, the sound -lawyer, the eminent merchant, the skilful physician, the most profound -mathematician, astronomer, or general student, will rise up in judgment -against the man who endeavours to excuse the observance of his religious -duties under the plea of learned or professional employment. Addison, -Hale, Thornton, Boerhaave, Bacon, Boyle, Newton, Locke, and many others, -prove that while the most important of worldly studies and occupations -employed their outward attention, _God rested at their hearts_. The -Ethiopian treasurer read Isaiah in his chariot, and Isaac meditated in -the fields. The friends of the good Hooker, when they went to visit him -at his parsonage, found him with a book in his hand, tending his own -sheep. In short, the true Christian will neither want place nor -opportunity for devotion, nor for the cultivation of those useful and -general talents which may contribute to the benefit or happiness of man. - -Lord Woodhouselee, in his _Life of Lord Kames_, has well remarked, that -the professional occupations of the best-employed lawyer or the most -distinguished judge cannot fill up every interval of his time. The -useful respite of vacation, the hours of sickness, the surcease of -employment from the infirmities of age,—all necessarily induce seasons -of languor, against which a wise man would do well to provide a store in -reserve, and an antidote and cordial to cheer and support his spirits. -In this light the pursuits of science and literature afford an unbounded -field and endless variety of useful occupations; and even in the latest -hours of life the reflection on the time thus spent, and the -anticipation of an honourable memorial in after ages, are sources of -consolation of which every ingenuous mind must fully feel the value. How -melancholy was the reflection uttered on his deathbed by one of the -ablest lawyers and judges of the last age, but whose mental stores were -wholly limited to the ideas connected with his profession, “_My life has -been a chaos of nothing!_” - -Sir Matthew Hale, one of the most upright judges that ever sat upon the -English bench, was of a benevolent and devout, as well as righteous -disposition; and in addition to his great legal works, found time to -write several volumes on natural philosophy and divinity. His -_Contemplations Moral and Divine_, written two centuries since, retain -their popularity to this day. Bishop Burnet, his biographer, tells us -that “his whole life was nothing else but a continual course of labour -and industry; and when he could borrow any time from the public service, -it was wholly employed either in philosophical or divine meditation.” -... “He that considers the active part of his life, and with what -unwearied diligence and application of mind he despatched all men’s -business that came under his care, will wonder how he could find time -for contemplation; he that considers, again, the various studies he -passed through, and the many collections and observations he made, may -as justly wonder how he could find any time for action. But no man can -wonder at the exemplary piety and innocence of such a life so spent as -this was, wherein, as he was careful to avoid every evil word, so it is -manifest _he never spent an idle day_.” - -At every turn we are defeated through want of due regard to this -preciousness of time. “In early life we lay long plans of conduct. After -a considerable interval, we find most of our plans unexecuted; we then -begin to reflect that if they _are_ to be accomplished, a far smaller -portion of our time than we had originally allotted to them can be -employed in their execution, and, what is perhaps more fatal to our -schemes, that portion is uncertain. An awful thought for those who have -in their possession many of the chief blessings of life, and are -approaching, by a rapid progress, that mortal bourn from whence no -traveller returns.”[24] - -How much of our time would be saved by the cultivation of the habit of -being content to be ignorant of certain subjects! Nothing can be more -beneficial to the mind than this habit; since it has thereby a more free -and open access to matters of the highest importance. - -How much of our time is wasted in paying visits of insincerity! Boileau -being one day visited by an indolent person of rank, who reproached him -with not having returned his former call; “You and I,” replied the -satirist, “are upon unequal terms: I lose my time when I pay you a -visit; you only get rid of yours when you pay me one.” - -One of the most familiar methods of taking note of time is by what are -usually termed family parties. When these are given on public holidays, -the effect is doubtless beneficial. Southey has well remarked: -“Festivals, when duly observed, attach men to the civil and religious -institutions of their country: it is an evil, therefore, when they fall -into disuse.” They do more,—in reminding us of the fewer anniversaries -we have to witness. - -Boyle has these wholesome reflections upon _profuse talkers_: he tells -us “that easiness of admitting all Kind of Company, provided men have -boldness enough to intrude into ours, is one of the uneasiest Hardships -(not to say Martyrdoms) to which Custom has expos’d us, and does really -do more Mischief than most Men take notice of; since it does not only -keep impertinent Fools in countenance, but encourages them to be very -troublesome to Wise Men. The World is pester’d with a certain sort of -Praters, who make up in Loudness what their Discourses want in Sense; -and because Men are so easie natur’d as to allow the hearing to their -Impertinencies, they presently presume that the things they speak are -none; and most Men are so little able to discern in Discourse betwixt -Confidence and Wit, that to any that will but talk loud enough they will -be sure to afford answers. And (which is worse) this readiness to hazard -our Patience, and certainly lose our Time, and thereby incourage others -to multiply idle words, of which the Scripture seems to speak -threateningly, is made by Custom an Expression, if not a Duty, of -Civility; and so even a Virtue is made accessory to a Fault. - -“For my part, though I think these Talkative people worse publick -Grievances than many of those for whose prevention or redress -Parliaments are wont to be assembled and Laws to be enacted; and though -I think their Robbing us of our time a much worse Mischief than those -petty Thefts for which Judges condemn Men, as a little Money is a less -valuable good than that precious Time, which no sum of it can either -purchase or redeem; yet I confess I think that our great Lords and -Ladies, that can admit this sort of Company, deserve it: For if such -Persons have but minds in any measure suited to their Qualities, they -may safely, by their Discountenance, banish such pitiful Creatures, and -secure their Quiet, not only without injuring the Reputation of their -Civility, but by advancing that of their Judgment.” - -Sir John Harrington, the epigrammatic poet in the reign of Elizabeth, -and a dangler at her court, appears, by the following confession, from -his _Breefe Notes and Remembrances_, to have been a disappointed man: “I -have spente my time, my fortune, and almost my honestie, to buy false -hope, false friends, and shallow praise;—and be it remembered, that he -who casteth up this reckoning of a courtlie minnion, will sette his -summe like a foole at the ende, for not being a knave at the beginninge. -Oh, that I could boaste, with chaunter David, _In te speravi Domine!_” - -Many ill-regulated persons thoughtlessly waste their own time -simultaneously with that of others. Lord Sandwich, when he presided at -the Board of Admiralty, paid no attention to any memorial that extended -beyond a single page. “If any man,” he said, “will draw up his case, and -will put his name to the bottom of the first page, I will give him an -immediate reply: where he compels me to turn over the page, he must wait -my pleasure.” - -George III., though always willing and ready for business, disliked (as -who does not?) long speeches out of season; and grievously lamented the -well-informed but verbose and ill-timed eloquence of his minister, -Grenville. “When,” such were the King’s own words to Lord Bute, “he has -wearied me for two hours, he looks at his watch to see if he may not -tire me for one hour more.” - -Paley had an ingenious mode of economising his time, and keeping off -these time-wasters. The Earl of Ellenborough is in possession of the -only original portrait of the Doctor, which was painted for the earl’s -father by Romney. Paley was painted with the fishing-rod, by his own -particular desire; not because he cared much about fishing, but because -while he was so occupied he could keep intruders at a distance, and give -his mind to uninterrupted thought. He kept people away, not because they -disturbed the fish, but because they disturbed him. _He composed his -works while he seemed to fish._[25] - -Sterne, in one of his fascinating Letters, writes: “Time wastes too -fast: every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity life follows my -pen: the days and hours of it more precious, my dear Jenny, than the -rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds of a -windy day, never to return more. Every thing presses on; whilst thou art -twisting that lock,—see, it grows gray; and every time I kiss thy hand -to bid adieu, and every absence which follows it, are preludes to that -eternal separation which we are shortly to make.” - -Thomson’s habit of composition while he lay in bed has been mentioned. -We knew a reverend vicar who usually composed his sermon in bed, and -committed it to paper next morning. Dr. Wallis, who nearly two centuries -ago was professor of geometry at Oxford, attained the power of making -arithmetical calculations “without the assistance of pen and ink, or -aught equivalent thereunto,” to such an extent, that he extracted the -square root of three down to twenty places of decimals. We must indeed -suppose him to have had originally some peculiar aptitude for such -calculations; but he describes himself to have acquired it by practising -at night and in the dark, when there was nothing to be seen, and nothing -to be heard, that would disturb his attention. It is in such -uninterrupted intervals that we best learn to think; and Sir Benjamin -Brodie[26] acknowledges that in these ways he had not unfrequently -derived ample compensation for the wearisome hours of a sleepless night. - -Division of time is the grand secret of successful industry. Lockhart, -in his _Life of Scott_, shows how effectually the illustrious subject of -his memoir found opportunity for unequalled literary labour, even while -enjoying all the amusements of a man of leisure. “Sir Walter rose by -five o’clock, lit his own fire when the season required one, and shaved -and dressed with great deliberation; for,” says his biographer, “he was -a very martinet as to all but the mere coxcombries of the toilet, not -abhorring effeminate dandyism itself so cordially as the slightest -approach to personal slovenliness, or even those ‘bed-gown and slipper -tricks,’ as he called them, in which literary men are so apt to indulge. -Arrayed in his shooting-jacket, or whatever dress he meant to use till -dinner-time, he was seated at his desk by six o’clock, all his papers -arranged before him in the most accurate order, and his books of -reference marshalled around him on the floor, while at least one -favourite dog lay watching his eye just beyond the line of -circumvallation. Thus, by the time the family assembled for breakfast, -between nine and ten, he had done enough (in his own language) ‘to break -the neck of the day’s work.’ After breakfast a couple of hours more were -given to his solitary tasks, and by noon he was, as he used to say, ‘his -own man.’ When the weather was bad, he would labour incessantly all the -morning; but the general rule was to be out and on horseback by one -o’clock at the latest; while, if any more distant excursion had been -proposed overnight, he was ready to start on it by ten; his occasional -rainy days of unintermitted study forming, as he said, a fund in his -favour, out of which he was entitled to draw for accommodation whenever -the sun shone with special brightness.” - -Sir Walter Scott, writing to a friend who had obtained a situation, gave -him this excellent practical advice: “You must be aware of stumbling -over a propensity, which easily besets you from the habit of not having -your time fully employed; I mean what the women very expressively call -_dawdling_. Your motto must be _Hoc age_. Do instantly whatever is to be -done, and take the hours of recreation after business, and never before -it. When a regiment is under march, the rear is often thrown into -confusion because the front does not move steadily and without -interruption. It is the same thing with business. If that which is first -in hand is not instantly, steadily, and readily despatched, other things -accumulate behind, till affairs begin to press all at once, and no human -brain can stand the confusion. Pray mind this: this is a habit of mind -which is very apt to beset men of intellect and talent, especially when -their time is not regularly filled up, and left at their own -arrangement. But it is like the ivy round the oak, and ends by limiting, -if it does not destroy, the power of manly and necessary exertion. I -must love a man so well, to whom I offer such a word of advice, that I -will not apologise for it, but expect to hear you are become as regular -as a Dutch clock,—hours, quarters, minutes, all marked and appropriated. -This is a great cast in life, and must be played with all skill and -caution.” - -Coleridge observes: “It would, indeed, be superfluous to attempt a proof -of the importance of Method in the business and economy of active or -domestic life. From the cotter’s hearth, or the workshop of the artisan, -to the palace or the arsenal, the first merit, that which admits neither -substitute nor equivalent, is, that _every thing is in its place_. Where -this charm is wanting, every other merit loses its name, or becomes an -additional ground of accusation and regret. Of one by whom it is -eminently possessed, we say proverbially, he is like clockwork. The -resemblance extends beyond the point of regularity, and yet falls short -of the truth. Both do, indeed, at once divide and announce the silent -and otherwise undistinguishable lapse of time. But the man of methodical -industry and honourable pursuits does more: he realises its ideal -divisions, and gives a character and individuality to its moments. If -the idle are described as killing time, he may be justly said to call it -into life and moral being, while he makes it the distinct object not -only of the consciousness, but of the conscience. He organises the -hours, and gives them a soul; and that the very essence of which is to -fleet away, and ever more _to have been_, he takes up into his own -permanence, and communicates to it the imperishableness of a spiritual -nature. Of the good and faithful servant, whose energies, thus directed, -are thus methodised, it is less truly affirmed, that he lives in time, -and that time lives in him. His days, months, and years, as the stops -and punctual marks in the records of duties performed, will survive the -wreck of worlds, and remain extant when time itself shall be no -more.”[27] This is admirable reasoning. - -A great deal has been said against routine and red tape, or rather the -abuse of the latter; but its proper use has much to do with success. -Curran, when Master of the Rolls, once said to Grattan, “You would be -the greatest man of your age, Grattan, if you would buy a few yards of -red tape, and tie up your bills and papers;” though another version of -the anecdote has, “_tie up your thoughts_.” This was the fault and -misfortune of Sir James Mackintosh: he never knew the use of red tape, -and was utterly unfit for the common business of life. That a guinea -represented a quantity of shillings, and that it would barter for a -quantity of cloth, he was well aware; but the accurate number of the -baser coin, or the just measurement of the manufactured articles to -which he was entitled for his gold, he could never learn, and it was -impossible to teach him. Hence his life was often an example of the -ancient and melancholy struggle of genius with the difficulties of -existence. - -The tying-up thoughts corresponds with Fuller’s aphorism, “Marshall thy -thoughts into a handsome method. One will carry twice more weight -trussed and perched up in bundles, than when it lies untoward, flapping -and hanging about his shoulders. Things orderly fardled up under heads -are most portable.” This is the plan adopted by lawyers upon their -tables. The Duke of Wellington had a table upon which his papers were -thus arranged; and, during his absence for any length of time, a sort of -lid was placed upon the table and locked, so as to secure the papers -without disturbing their arrangement. - -The Duke of Wellington is also known to have been an early riser; the -advantages of which were illustrated throughout his long life. His -service of the Sovereigns and the public of this country for more than -half a century,—in diplomatic situations and in councils, as well as in -the army,—has scarcely a parallel in British history. His Despatches are -the best evidence of his well-regulated mind in education. No letters -could ever be more temperately or more perspicuously expressed than -those famous documents. They show what immense results in the aggregate -were obtained by the Duke, solely in virtue of habits which he had -sedulously cultivated from his boyhood—early rising, strict attention to -details, taking nothing ascertainable for granted, unflagging industry, -and silence, except when speech was necessary, or certainly harmless. -His early habit of punctuality is pleasingly illustrated in the -following anecdote: “I will take care to be punctual at five to-morrow -morning,” said the engineer of New London Bridge, in acceptance of the -Duke’s request that he would meet him at that hour the following -morning. “Say a quarter before five,” replied the Duke, with a quiet -smile; “I owe all I have achieved to being ready a quarter of an hour -before it was deemed necessary to be so; and I learned that lesson when -a boy.” - -Whoever has seen “the Duke’s bedroom” at Apsley-house, and its plain -appointments, will not regard it as a chamber of indolence. It was, a -few years since, narrow, shapeless, and ill-lighted; the bedstead small, -provided only with a mattress and bolster, and scantily curtained with -green silk; the only ornaments of the walls were an unfinished sketch, -two cheap prints of military men, and a small portrait in oil: yet here -slept the Great Duke, whose “eightieth year was by.” In the grounds and -shrubbery he took daily walking exercise, where with the garden-engine -he was wont to enjoy exertion; reminding one of General Bonaparte at St. -Helena, “amusing himself with the pipe of the fire-engine, spouting -water on the trees and flowers in his favourite garden.” - - --------------------- -Footnote 24: - - Brewster’s _Meditations for the Aged_. - -Footnote 25: - - Communication to _Notes and Queries_, 3d series, No. 47. - -Footnote 26: - - _Psychological Inquiries_, part ii. 1862. The Author died in the - autumn of 1862, at his beautiful retreat, Broome Park (formerly - Tranquil Dale), at the foot of the fine range of the Betchworth Hills, - in Surrey. In the _Inquiries_ are some interesting traces of the work - having been written in the tranquillity of Broome, and its picturesque - characteristics of noble cedars, elms, and chestnuts, stream and sheet - of water, and mineral spring. In the opening pages, “the fresh air and - quiet of his residence in the country” evidently refers to Broome; and - throughout the volume are occasional references to the geniality of - the place for the group of philosophers who keep up the mode of - dialogue. Sir Benjamin Brodie was some time President of the Royal - Society; and it may be worthy of notice, that his two volumes of - “Inquiries,” in their thoughtful tone and reflective colour, bear some - resemblance to the two volumes produced in the retirement of his - illustrious predecessor in the Chair of the Royal Society—Sir Humphry - Davy; but with this difference,—that Sir Benjamin Brodie’s Researches - are of more practical application than the speculative Dialogues of - our great chemical philosopher, Davy. - -Footnote 27: - - Coleridge, however, was a better preacher than practitioner of what he - so urgently recommends. When in his younger days he was offered a - share in the _London Journal_, by which he could have made two - thousand pounds a year, provided he would devote his time seriously to - the interest of the work, he declined,—making the reply, so often - praised for its disinterestedness, “I will not give up the country, - and the lazy reading of old folios, for two thousand times two - thousand pounds; in short, beyond three hundred and fifty pounds a - year, I consider money a real evil.” The “lazy reading of old folios” - led to laziness, the indolent gratification of mind and sense. - Degenerating into an opium-eater, and a mere purposeless theoriser, - Coleridge wasted time, talents, and health; came to depend, in old - age, on the charity of others; and died at last, with every one - regretting, even his friends, that he had done nothing worthy of his - genius. The world is full of men having Coleridge’s faults, without - Coleridge’s abilities; men who cannot, or will not, see beyond the - present; who are too lazy to work for more than a temporary - subsistence, and who squander, in pleasure or idleness, energy and - health, which ought to lay up a capital for old age. - - ---------------------------- - - - TIME AND ETERNITY. - -Sir Thomas More, when a youth, painted for his father’s house in London -a hanging with nine pageants, with verses over each. There were -Childhood, Manhood, Venus and Cupid, Age, Death, and Fame. In the sixth -pageant was painted the image of Time, and under his feet was lying the -picture of Fame that was in the sixth pageant. And over this seventh -pageant was (spelling modernised): - - TIME. - - I whom thou seest with horologe in hand - Am named Time, the lord of every hour: - I shall in space destroy both sea and land. - O simple Fame, how darest thou man honour, - Promising of his name an endless flower! - Who may in the world have a name eternal, - When I shall in process destroy the world and all? - -In the eighth pageant was pictured the image of Lady Eternity, sitting -in a chair under a sumptuous cloth of state, crowned with an imperial -crown. And under her feet lay the picture of Time that was in the -seventh pageant. And above this eighth pageant was written as follows: - - ETERNITY. - - Me needeth not to boast: I am Eternity, - The very name signifieth well - That mine empire infinite shall be. - Thou mortal Time, every man can tell, - Art nothing else but the mobility - Of sun and moon changing in every degree; - When they shall leave their course, thou shalt be brought, - For all thy pride and boasting, unto naught. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Life, and Length of Days. - - - --------------------- - - - LIFE—A RIVER. - -PLINY has compared a River to Human Life; and Sir Humphry Davy was a -hundred times struck with the analogy, particularly among mountain -scenery. A full and clear River is the most poetical object in nature; -and contemplating this, Davy wrote: “The river, small and clear in its -origin, gushes forth from rocks, falls into deep glens, and wantons and -meanders through a wild and picturesque country, nourishing only the -uncultivated tree or flower by its dew or spray. In this, its state of -infancy and youth, it may be compared to the human mind, in which fancy -and strength of imagination are predominant; it is more beautiful than -useful. When the different rills or torrents join, and descend into the -plain, it becomes slow and stately in its motions; it is applied to move -machinery, to irrigate meadows, and to bear upon its bosom the stately -barge;—in this mature state, it is deep, strong, and useful. As it flows -on towards the sea, it loses its force and its motion; and at last, as -it were, becomes lost and mingled with the mighty abyss of waters.” - -Again, Life is often compared to a River, because one year follows -another, and vanishes like the ripples on its surface. A flood, without -ebb, bears us onward; “we can never cast anchor in the river of life,” -as Bernardin de St. Pierre finely and profoundly observes. - -But the comparison can be still further developed. “It is taking a false -idea of life,” says Cuvier, “to consider it as a single link, which -binds the elements of the living body together, since, on the contrary, -it is a power which moves and sustains them unceasingly. These -elements,” he adds, “do not for an instant preserve the same relations -and connexions; or, in other words, the living body does not for an -instant keep the same state and composition.” - -But this is only the new enunciation of a very old idea in science. Long -before Cuvier, Leibnitz said, “Our body is in a perpetual flux, like a -river; particles enter and leave it continually.” And long before -Leibnitz, physiologists had compared the human body to the famous ship -of Theseus, which was always the same ship, although, from having been -so often repaired, it had not a single piece with which it was -originally constructed. The truth is, that the idea of the continued -renovation of our organs[28] has always existed in science; but it is -also true that it has always been disputed. - -M. Flourens has proved by direct experiment that the mechanism of the -development of the bones consists essentially in a continual irritation -of all the parts composing them. But it is the change of _material_; for -its _form_ changes very little. Cuvier has further developed this fine -idea: - - In living bodies no molecule remains in its place; all enter and - leave it successively: life is a continued whirlpool, the direction - of which, complicated as it is, remains always constant, as well as - the species of molecules which are drawn into it, but not the - individual molecules themselves; on the contrary, the actual - material of the living body will soon be no longer in it; and yet it - is the depository of the force which will constrain the future - material in the same direction as itself. So that the form of these - bodies is more essential to them than the material, since this - latter changes unceasingly, while the other is maintained. - - --------------------- -Footnote 28: - - One may well say of a given individual, that he lives and is the same, - and is spoken of as an identical being from his earliest infancy to - old age, without reflecting that he does not contain the same - particles, which are produced and renewed unceasingly, and die also in - the old state, in the hair and in the flesh, in the bone and in the - blood,—in a word, in the whole body.—_Plato; The Banquet._ - - ---------------------------- - - - THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE. - -The Spring-time of Life,—the meeting-point of the child and the man,—the -brief interval which separates restraint from liberty,—has a warmth of -life, which Dr. Temple thus pictures with glowing eloquence. “To almost -all men this period is a bright spot to which the memory ever afterwards -loves to recur; and even those who can remember nothing but -folly,—folly, of which they have repented, and relinquished,—yet find a -nameless charm in recalling such folly as that. For indeed even folly at -that age is sometimes the cup out of which men quaff the richest -blessings of our nature,—simplicity, generosity, affection. This is the -seed-time of the soul’s harvest, and contains the promise of the year. -It is the time for love and marriage, the time for forming life-long -friendships. The after-life may be more contented, but can rarely be so -glad and joyous. Two things we need to crown its blessings,—one is, that -the friends whom we then learn to love, and the opinions which we then -learn to cherish, may stand the test of time, and deserve the esteem and -approval of calmer thoughts and wider experience; the other, that our -hearts may have depth enough to drink largely of that which God is -holding to our lips, and never again to lose the fire and spirit of the -draught. There is nothing more beautiful than a manhood surrounded by -the friends, upholding the principles, and filled with the energy of the -spring-time of life. But even if these highest blessings be denied, if -we have been compelled to change opinions and to give up friends, and -the cold experience of the world has extinguished the heat of youth, -still the heart will instinctively recur to that happy time, to explain -to itself what is meant by love and what by happiness.”[29] - - --------------------- -Footnote 29: - - _Education of the World._ - - ---------------------------- - - - THE FIRST TWENTY YEARS OF LIFE. - -It is a saying of Southey’s, “that, live as long as you may, the first -twenty years are the longest half of your life. They appear so while -they are passing; they seem to have been so when we look back to them; -and they take up more room in our memory than all the years that succeed -them.” - -But in how strong a light has this been placed by the American teacher, -Jacob Abbott, whose writings have obtained so wide a circulation in -England. “Life,” he says, “if you understand by it the season of -preparation for eternity, is more than half gone; life, so far as it -presents opportunities and facilities for penitence and pardon,—so far -as it bears on the formation of character, and is to be considered as a -period of probation,—is unquestionably more than half gone to those who -are between fifteen and twenty. In a vast number of cases it is more -than half gone even _in duration_; and if we consider the thousand -influences which crowd around the years of childhood and youth, winning -us to religion, and making a surrender of ourselves to Jehovah easy and -pleasant,—and, on the other hand, look forward beyond the years of -maturity, and see these influences losing all their power, and the heart -becoming harder and harder under the deadening effects of continuance in -sin,—we shall not doubt a moment that the years of immaturity make a far -more important part of our time of probation than all those that -follow.” - -That pious man, who, while he lived, was the Honourable Charles How, and -might properly now be called the honoured, says, that “twenty years -might be deducted for education from the threescore and ten, which are -the allotted sum of human life; this portion,” he adds, “is a time of -discipline and restraint, and young people are never easy till they are -got over it.” - -There is indeed during those years much of restraint, of weariness, of -hope, and of impatience; all which feelings lengthen the apparent -duration of time. Sufferings are not included here; but with a large -portion of the human race, in all Christian countries (to our shame be -it spoken), it makes a large item in the account; there is no other -stage of life in which so much gratuitous suffering is endured,—so much -that might have been spared,—so much that is a mere wanton, wicked -addition to the sum of human misery, arising solely and directly from -want of feeling in others, their obduracy, their caprice, their -stupidity, their malignity, their cupidity, and their cruelty.[30] - - --------------------- -Footnote 30: - - _The Doctor._ - - ---------------------------- - - - PASSING GENERATIONS. - -“The deaths of some, and the marriages of others,” says Cowper, “make a -new world of it every thirty years. Within that space of time the -majority are displaced, and a new generation has succeeded. Here and -there one is permitted to stay longer, that there may not be wanting a -few grave dons like myself to make the observation.” - - Man is a self-survivor every year; - Man, like a stream, is in perpetual flow. - Death’s a destroyer of quotidian prey: - My youth, my noontide his, my yesterday; - The bold invader shares the present hour, - Each moment on the former shuts the grave. - While man is growing, life is in decrease, - And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. - Our birth is nothing but our death begun, - As tapers waste that instant they take fire.—_Young._ - -Yet, infinitely short as the term of human life is when compared with -time to come, it is not so in relation to time past. A hundred and forty -of our own generations carry us back to the Deluge, and nine more of -antediluvian measure to the Creation,—which to us is the beginning of -time; “for time itself is but a novelty, a late and upstart thing in -respect of the ancient of days.”[31] They who remember their -grandfather, and see their grandchildren, have seen persons belonging to -five out of that number; and he who attains the age of threescore, has -seen two generations pass away. “The created world,” says Sir Thomas -Browne, “is but a small parenthesis in eternity, and a short -interposition, for a time, between such a state of duration as was -before it, and may be after it.” There is no time of life, after we -become capable of reflection, in which the world to come must not to any -considerate mind appear of more importance to us than this; no time in -which we have not a greater stake there. When we reach the threshold of -old age, all objects of our early affections have gone before us, and in -the common course of mortality a great proportion of the later. Not -without reason did the wise compilers of our admirable Liturgy place -next in order after the form of Matrimony, the services for the -Visitation and Communion of the Sick, and for the Burial of the -Dead.[32] - -A home-tourist, halting in the quiet churchyard of Mortlake, in Surrey, -about half a century since, fell into the following reflective train of -calculation of generations: - -“I reflected that, as it is now more than four hundred years since this -ground became the depository of the dead, some of its earliest occupants -might, without an hyperbole, have been ancestors of the whole -contemporary English nation. If we suppose that a man was buried in this -churchyard 420 years ago, who left six children, each of whom had three -children, who again had, on an average, the same number in every -generation of thirty years; then, in 420 years, or fourteen generations, -his descendants might be multiplied as under: - - 1st generation 6 - 2d ” 18 - 3d ” 54 - 4th ” 162 - 5th ” 486 - 6th ” 1458 - 7th ” 4374 - 8th ” 13,122 - 9th ” 39,366 - 10th ” 118,098 - 11th ” 354,274 - 12th ” 1,062,812 - 13th ” 3,188,436 - 14th ” 9,565,308 - -That is to say, nine millions and a half of persons; or, as nearly as -possible, the exact population might at this day be descended in a -direct line from any individual buried in this or any other churchyard -in the year 1395, who left six children, each of whose descendants have -had on the average three children! And, by the same law, every -individual who has six children may be the root of as many descendants -within 420 years, provided they increase on the low average of only -three in every branch. His descendants would represent an inverted -triangle, of which he would constitute the lower angle. - -“To place the same position in another point of view, I calculated also -that every individual now living must have had for his ancestor every -parent in Britain living in the year 1125, the age of Henry I., taking -the population of that period at 8,000,000. Thus, as every individual -must have had a father and mother, or two progenitors, each of whom had -a father and mother, or four progenitors, each generation would double -its progenitors every thirty years. Every person living may, therefore, -be considered as the apex of a triangle, of which the base would -represent the whole population of a remote age. - - 1815. Living individual 1 - 1785. His father and mother 2 - 1755. Their fathers and mothers 4 - 1725. ” ” 8 - 1695. ” ” 16 - 1665. ” ” 32 - 1635. ” ” 64 - 1605. ” ” 128 - 1575. ” ” 256 - 1545. ” ” 512 - 1515. ” ” 1,024 - 1485. ” ” 2,048 - 1455. ” ” 4,096 - 1425. ” ” 8,192 - 1395. ” ” 16,384 - 1365. ” ” 32,768 - 1335. ” ” 65,536 - 1305. ” ” 131,072 - 1275. ” ” 262,144 - 1245. ” ” 524,288 - 1215. ” ” 1,048,576 - 1185. ” ” 2,097,152 - 1155. ” ” 4,194,304 - 1125. ” ” 8,388,608 - -That is to say, if there have been a regular co-mixture of marriages, -every individual of the living race must of necessity be descended from -parents who lived in Britain in 1125. Some districts or clans may -require a longer period for the co-mixture, and different circumstances -may cut off some families, and expand others; but, in general, the lines -of families would cross each other, and become interwoven, _like the -lines of lattice-work_. A single intermixture, however remote, would -unite all the subsequent branches in common ancestry, rendering the -contemporaries of every nation members of one expanded family, after the -lapse of an ascertainable number of generations.”[33] - - --------------------- -Footnote 31: - - Dr. Johnson. - -Footnote 32: - - _The Doctor._ - -Footnote 33: - - Sir Richard Phillips’s _Morning’s Walk from London to Kew_. - - ---------------------------- - - - AVERAGE DURATION OF LIFE. - -The Assurance of Lives has often been regarded, by weak-minded persons, -as an interference with the ways of Providence, which is highly -reprehensible. But it can be shown that calculation of lives can be -averaged with certainty. Mr. Babbage, in his work on the Assurance of -Lives, observes: “Nothing is more proverbially uncertain than the -duration of human life, where the maxim is applied to an individual; yet -there are few things less subject to fluctuation than the average -duration of a multitude of individuals. The number of deaths happening -amongst persons of our own acquaintance is frequently very different in -different years; and it is not an uncommon event that this number shall -be double, treble, or even many times larger in one year than in the -next succeeding. If we consider larger societies of individuals, as the -inhabitants of a village or small town, the number of deaths is more -uniform; and in still larger bodies, as among the inhabitants of a -kingdom, the uniformity is such, that the excess of deaths in any year -above the average number seldom exceeds a small fractional part of the -whole. In the two periods, each of fifteen years, beginning at 1780, the -number of deaths occurring in England and Wales in any year did not fall -short of, or exceed, the average number one-thirteenth part of the -whole; nor did the number dying in any year differ from the number of -those dying in the next by a tenth part.” - -In a paper on Life Assurance, in the _Edinburgh Review_, the Average -Mortality of Europe is thus stated: “In England 1 person dies annually -in every 45; in France, 1 in every 42; in Prussia, 1 in every 38; in -Austria, 1 in every 33; in Russia, 1 in every 28. Thus England exhibits -the lowest mortality; and the state of the public health is so improved, -that the present duration of existence may be regarded (in contrast to -what it was a hundred years ago) as, in round numbers, _four to three_.” - -The Registrar-General gives the following statistical results: “The -average age of life is 33⅓ years. One-fourth of the born die before they -reach the age of seven years, and the half before the seventeenth year. -Out of 100 persons, only six reach the age of 60 years and upwards, -while only 1 in 1000 reaches the age of 100 years. Out of 500, only 1 -attains 80 years. Out of the thousand million living persons, -330,000,000 die annually, 91,000 daily, 3730 every hour, 60 every -minute, consequently 1 every second. The loss is, however, balanced by -the gain in new births. Tall men are supposed to live longer than short -ones. Women are generally stronger than men until their fiftieth year, -afterwards less so. Marriages are in proportion to single life -(bachelors and spinsters) as 100:75. Both births and deaths are more -frequent in the night than in the day.” - - - PASTIMES OF CHILDHOOD RECREATIVE TO MAN. - -Paley regarded the pleasure which the amusements of childhood afford as -a striking instance of the beneficence of the Deity. We have several -instances of great men descending from the more austere pursuits to -these simple but innocent pastimes. The Persian ambassadors found -Agesilaus, the Lacedæmonian monarch, riding on a stick. The ambassadors -found Henry the Fourth playing on the carpet with his children; and it -is said that Domitian, after he had possessed himself of the Roman -empire, amused himself by catching flies. Socrates, if tradition speaks -truly, was partial to the recreation of riding on a wooden horse; for -which, as Valerius Maximus tells us, his pupil Alcibiades laughed at -him. (Is not this the origin of our rocking-horse?) Did not Archytas, - - He who could scan the earth and ocean’s bound, - And tell the countless sands that strew the shore, - -as Horace says, invent the children’s rattle? Toys have served to unbend -the wise, to occupy the idle, to exercise the sedentary, and to instruct -the ignorant. To come to our own times: we have heard of a -Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, a man of grave years and thoughts, being -surprised playing at leap-frog with his young nephews. - -The same desire to unstring the bow, as old Æsop taught, impels sturdy -workmen, let loose from their toil, to seek diversion in the amusements -of boyhood. Often have we seen scores of men break forth from a factory -or printing-office for their dinner-hour, and in great measure disport -themselves like schoolboys in a playground. - - - PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION LATE IN LIFE. - -Dugald Stewart, in his _Essay on the Cultivation of Intellectual -Habits_, predicates, in persons of mature age, what may be termed the -enjoyment of a second season of enjoyments far more refined than the -first. Thus he says: “Instances have frequently occurred of individuals -in whom the power of imagination has, at an advanced period of life, -been found susceptible of culture to a wonderful degree. In such men, -what an accession is gained to their most refined pleasures! What -enchantments are added to their most ordinary perceptions! The mind, -awakening, as if from a trance, to a new existence, becomes habituated -to the most interesting aspects of life and of nature; the intellectual -eye is ‘purged of its film;’ and things the most familiar and unnoticed -disclose charms invisible before. The same objects and events which were -lately beheld with indifference occupy now all the powers and capacities -of the soul, the contrast between the present and the past serving only -to enhance and to endear so unlooked-for an acquisition. What Gray has -so finely said of _the pleasures of vicissitude_ conveys but a faint -image of what is experienced by the man who, after having lost in vulgar -occupations and vulgar amusements his earliest and most precious years, -is thus introduced at last to a new heaven and a new earth: - - The meanest floweret of the vale, - The simplest note that swells the gale, - The common sun, the air, the skies, - To him are op’ning Paradise. - -Nothing can be more deplorable than a man who has outlived the likings, -and perchance the innocence, of his early life; which is by no means -rare, if they have not grown out of the study and love of nature, for -this clings to the heart in all the vicissitudes of life,—in adversity -as well as in prosperity; in sickness as well as in health; even to -extreme old age, when almost every other worldly source of pleasure is -dried up. Hear the testimony of Hannah More, at the age of eighty-two: -“The only one of my youthful fond attachments,” says she, “which exists -still in full force, is a passion for scenery, raising flowers, and -landscape gardening.” Well indeed will it be for the young if they -follow the example of this venerable woman, and early acquire a passion -for scenery and flowers. For as they pass through life, they will find -the world often frowning upon them, but the flowers will always smile. -And it is sweet, in the day of adversity, to be met with a smile. - -We remember a touching instance of the love of flowers lighting up the -last hours of a botanist who had wooed nature in the picturesque vale of -Mickleham, in Surrey. A few short hours before his death, he turned to -his niece and said: “Mary, it is a fine morning; go and see if _Scilla -verna_ is come in flower.” - - - WHAT IS MEMORY? - -Man possesses a nervous system pervaded by a nervous force, the -modification of which manifests itself to our consciousness in the -varied phenomena of what we call Sensation. From Sensation, the next -step is to Perception. Sensation, we know, as such, dies away from the -consciousness, or rather is obliterated by fresh impressions upon the -sensorium. We cannot retain a feeling in perpetuity. But when a definite -sensation has been excited, or a distinct experience has been acquired, -something remains behind; and upon these _residua_, left in the -structure of the nerves, or the cerebral tissues, or the animating soul, -and on the permanence of these _residua_, rests the whole possibility of -reminiscence. Upon this blending and organisation round the centre of -mind-life follows the faculty of Memory, or that power which the mind -possesses of making a peculiar representation of an object for itself, -of creating a special idea of it by giving greater prominence to some -features, and letting others sink away unthought of, till there remains -an image, the product of its own free activity, which it can mentally -connect with other trains of ideas, and thus multiply, as it were, the -bridges by which it can return to it at any period.[34] - -Byron has beautifully personified this paramount image: - - She was a form of life and light, - That seen became a part of sight; - And rose, where’er I turned mine eye, - The Morning-star of Memory! - -“Mere abstraction, or what is called absence of mind, is often -attributed, very unphilosophically, to a want of memory. La Fontaine, in -a dreaming mood, forgot his own child, and, after warmly commending him, -observed how proud he should be to have such a son. In this kind of -abstraction external things are either only dimly seen, or are utterly -overlooked; but the memory is not necessarily asleep. In fact, its too -intense activity is frequently the cause of the abstraction. This -faculty is usually the strongest when the other faculties are in their -prime, and fades in old age, when there is a general decay of mind and -body. Old men, indeed, are proverbially narrative; and from this -circumstance it sometimes appears as if the memory preserves a certain -portion of its early acquisitions to the last, though in the general -failure of the intellect it loses its active energy. It receives no new -impressions, but old ones are confirmed. The brain seems to grow harder. -Old images become fixtures. It is recorded of Pascal, that, till the -decay of his health had impaired his memory, he forgot nothing of what -he had done, read, or thought in any part of his rational age. The -Admirable Crichton could repeat backwards any speech he had made. -Magliabecchi, the Florentine librarian, could recollect whole volumes; -and once supplied an author from memory with a copy of his own work, of -which the original was lost. Pope has observed that Bolingbroke had so -great a memory, that if he was alone and without books he could refer to -a particular subject in them, and write as fully on it as another man -would with all his books about him. Woodfall’s extraordinary power of -reporting the debates in the House of Commons without the aid of written -memoranda is well known. During a debate he used to close his eyes and -lean with both hands upon his stick, resolutely excluding all extraneous -associations. The accuracy and precision of his reports brought his -newspaper into great repute. He would retain a full recollection of a -particular debate a fortnight after it had occurred, and during the -intervention of other debates. He used to say that it was put by in a -corner of his mind for future reference.”[35] - - --------------------- -Footnote 34: - - See an admirable paper on Dr. Morell’s _Introduction to Mental - Philosophy_, in _Saturday Review_; also _Mysteries of Life, Death, and - Futurity_, for the following articles: “What is Memory?” “How the - Function of Memory takes place;” “Persistence of Impressions;” “Value - of Memory;” “Registration;” and “Decay of Memory;” pp. 69-75. - -Footnote 35: - - _Literary Leaves_, by D. L. Richardson. - - ---------------------------- - - - CONSOLATION IN GROWING OLD. - -Montaigne said of Cicero _On Old Age_, “It gives one an appetite for old -age.” Its persuasive eloquence is the inspiration of an elevated -philosophy. Flourens has cleverly said, “The moral aspect of old age is -its best side. We cannot grow old without losing our _physique_, nor -also without our _morale_ gaining by it. This is a noble compensation.” - -M. Reveillé-Parise says: “In a green old age, when from fifty-five to -seventy-five years, and sometimes more, the life of the mind has a -scope, a consistence, and remarkable solidity, man having then truly -attained to the height of his faculties.” - -Patience is the privilege of age. A great advantage to the man who has -lived is, that he knows how to wait. Again, experience is an old man’s -memory. - -Buffon was seventy years of age (this was young for Buffon, he lived to -eighty-one) when he wrote _The Epochs of Nature_, in which he calls old -age a prejudice. Without our arithmetic we should not, according to -Buffon, know that we were old. “Animals,” he says, “do not know it; it -is only by our arithmetic that we judge otherwise.” - - Buffon having settled on his estate at Montbard, in Burgundy, there - pursued his studies with such regularity that the history of one day - seems to have been that of all the others through a period of fifty - years. After he was dressed, he dictated letters, and regulated his - domestic affairs; and at six o’clock he retired to his studies in a - pavilion in his garden, about a furlong from the house. This - pavilion was only furnished with a large wooden secretary and an - arm-chair; and within it was another cabinet, ornamented with - drawings of birds and beasts. Prince Henry of Prussia called it the - cradle of natural history; and Rousseau, before he entered it, used - to fall on his knees, and kiss the threshold. Here Buffon composed - the greater number of his works. At nine o’clock he usually took an - hour’s rest; and his breakfast, a piece of bread and two glasses of - wine, was brought to him. When he had written two hours after - breakfast, he returned to the house. At dinner he enjoyed the - gaieties and trifles of the table. After dinner he slept an hour in - his room; took a solitary walk; and during the rest of the evening - he either conversed with his family or guests, or examined his - papers at his desk. At nine o’clock he went to bed, to prepare - himself for the same routine of judgment and pleasure. He had a most - fervid imagination; and his anxious solicitude for a literary - immortality, “that last infirmity of noble minds,” continually - betrayed him to be a vain man. - -“Every day that I rise in good health,” said Buffon to a conceited young -man, “have I not the enjoyment of this day as fully as you? If I conform -my actions, my appetites, my desires, to the strict impulses of wise -nature, am I not as wise and happy as you are? And the view of the past, -which causes so much regret to old fools, does it not afford me, on the -contrary, the pleasures of memory, agreeable pictures of precious -images, which are equal to your objects of pleasure? For these images -are sweet; they are pure; they leave upon the mind only pleasing -remembrances; the uneasiness, the disappointments, the sorrowful troop -which accompanies your youthful pleasures, disappear from the picture -which presents them to me. Regrets must disappear also; they are the -last sparks of that foolish vanity that never grows old. - -“Some one asked Fontenelle, when ninety-five years old, which were the -twenty years of his life he most regretted. He replied that he had -little to regret; but the age at which he had been most happy was that -from forty-five to seventy-five. He made this avowal in sincerity, and -he proved what he said by natural and consoling truths. At forty-five, -fortune is established; reputation made; consideration obtained; the -condition of life established; dreams vanished or fulfilled; projects -miscarried or matured; most of the passions calmed, or at least cooled; -the career in the work that every man owes to society nearly completed; -enemies, or rather the enemies, are fewer, because the counterpoise of -merit is known by the public voice,” &c. - -Galen, speaking of Hippocrates, and wishing to represent in one word the -man who, in his eyes, constitutes the most perfect type of slowly -matured wisdom and profound experience, simply calls him _the old man_. - -The first rule of the Art of Preserving Life is to know how to be old. -“Few men know how to be old,” said La Rochefoucauld. Voltaire has— - - Qui n’a pas l’esprit de son âge, - De son âge a tous les malheurs. - -The first rule is more philosophic than medical, but is perhaps none the -less valuable. - -The second rule is to know yourself well; which is also a philosophical -precept applied to medicine. - -The third rule is properly to conform to regular habits. Old men, who -spend one day like another, with the same moderation, the same -appetites, live always. “My miracle is existence,” said Voltaire; and if -that foolish vanity which never grows old had not induced him, when -eighty-four years of age, to make a ridiculous journey to Paris, his -miracle would have continued a century, as was the case with Fontenelle. - -“Few would believe,” said M. Reveillé-Parise, “how far a little health, -well managed, may be made to go.” And Cicero said: “To use what we have, -and to act in every thing according to our strength,—such is the rule of -the sage.” - -Most men die of disease, very few die of mere age. Man has made for -himself a sort of artificial life, in which the moral is often worse -than the physical; and the physical itself often worse than it would be -with habits more serene and calm, more regularly and judiciously -exercised. - -Haller, the physiologist, says: “Man should be placed among the animals -that live the longest: how very unjust, then, are our complaints of the -brevity of life!” He then inquires what can be the extreme limit of the -life of man; and he gives it as his opinion that man might live not less -than two centuries. M. Flourens,[36] however, decides on a century of -ordinary life; and at least half a century of extraordinary life is the -prospect science holds out to man. Still, as these inferences are drawn -from the exceptions of Jenkins and Parr, the opinions must be received -accordingly. - -Haller, who has collected a great number of examples of Longevity, says -that he has found more than - - 1000 who have lived from 100 to 110 years - 60 ” ” 110 to 120 ” - 29 ” ” 120 to 130 ” - 15 ” ” 130 to 140 ” - 6 ” ” 140 to 160 ” - -and one who reached the astonishing age of 169 years. - - --------------------- -Footnote 36: - - _Human Longevity and the Amount of Life upon the Globe._ By P. - Flourens, Perpetual Secretary to the Academy of Sciences, Paris, 1855. - - ---------------------------- - - - LENGTH OF DAYS. - -There are few records so generally interesting as those of human -existence being protracted beyond “threescore years and ten,” and the -Psalmist’s limit of “fourscore years.” It is natural to expect every -man, woman, and child to take a kindred interest in such matters: the -girl or boy reads with wonder the dates upon the tombstones of very aged -persons; and old men and women approach these memorials with awe, in -proportion to their fancied distance from the same earthly bourn. All -cannot alike read the story of the pictured urn, or the mysteries of the -inverted torch or the winged mundus; but the uneducated young and old -are sensible of the solemnity of the line, “Aged 102 years;” whilst the -more pretentious “Hic jacet” only teaches the comparatively few that - - The paths of glory lead but to the grave. - -We are not, therefore, surprised at the implicit belief in such records -in times gone by, when no populous village in England was without a man -or woman of fourscore years old. It has, however, become of late a -matter of some moment to inquire into the authority on which statements -of extreme old age have usually rested; and the result has been to shake -the testimony of many recorded cases of great longevity. - -Lord Bacon, in his _History of Life and Death_, quotes as a fact -unquestioned, that a few years before he wrote, a morris-dance was -performed in Herefordshire, at the May-games, by eight men, whose ages -in the aggregate amounted to eight hundred years! In the seventeenth -century, some time after Bacon wrote, two Englishmen are reported to -have died at ages greater than almost any of those which have been -attained in other nations. According to statements which are printed in -the _Philosophical Transactions_ of the Royal Society, as well as his -epitaph in Westminster Abbey, Thomas Parr lived 152 years and 9 months; -Henry Jenkins, 169 years. The testimony in these extraordinary instances -is, however, considered by the Registrar-General by no means conclusive, -as it evidently rests on uncertain tradition, and on the very fallible -memories of illiterate old men; for there is no mention of documentary -evidence in Parr’s case, and the births date back to a period (1538) -before the parish registers were instituted by Cromwell. - -Yet parish registers are sometimes astounding; for in that of -Evercreech, in Somersetshire, occurs this entry: “1588, 20th Dec., Jane -Britton, of Evercriche, a Maidden, as she afirmed, of the age of 200 -years, was buried.” - -Here is a difficulty of belief cleared up. In the register of the parish -of St. Leonard, Shoreditch, is entered, among the “Burialles, Thomas -Cam, y^e 22d inst. of January 1588 (curiously enough the date of the -Somersetshire entry), Aged 207 years, Holywell-street. George Garrow, -parish clerk.” In a newspaper paragraph of 1848, this entry is stated to -add: “he was born in the year 1381, in the reign of King Richard II., -and lived in the reigns of twelve kings and queens.” These words are -not, however, in the register; and it is evident that some mischievous -person has altered the figure 1 into 2. Sir Henry Ellis, in his _History -of Shoreditch_, gives the entry correctly as follows: “Thomas Cam, aged -107, 28 January 1588.” - -Another instance, less known, but better authenticated, is that of Sir -Ralph Vernon, of Shipbrooke, who was born some time in the thirteenth -century, died at the great age of 150; and is said to have been -succeeded by his descendant in the sixth generation; he was called “Old -Sir Ralph,” or Sir R. “the long-liver.” A deed of settlement by him was -the cause of long litigation; and it is said that the papers respecting -this law-suit still exist, to prove the fact of the old knight’s -patriarchal age.[37] - -In Conway churchyard is the tombstone of Lowry Owens, stated to have -died “May the 1st, 1766, aged 192;” but the inscription has evidently -been recut, and, it is presumed, with a difference, especially as the -round of the “9” is above the date-line. - -In the church of Abbey Dore, Herefordshire, is a slab to the memory of -Elizabeth Lewis, who died “aged 141 years,” which is stated to be -confirmed by the parish register. - -In the churchyard of Cheve Prior, Worcestershire, is a record of a man -who died at the age of 309; doubtless meant for 39, the blundering -stonecutter having put the 30 first and 9 afterwards. - -In these and similar cases our belief should be in proportion to the -trustworthiness of the record, allowance being made for the imperfect -state of documents of times when writing was a comparatively rare -accomplishment. It is curious to contrast this state of things with the -chronicle of our times, when, occasionally, one day’s newspaper records -several instances of longevity: - - In the _Morning Post_, January 30th, 1858, out of thirty-five deaths - recorded, with the ages, there were five upwards of 60 and under 70; - 70 and under 80, seven; in 80th year and upwards, nine; one female, - 95; and Mrs. E. Miles, of Bishop Lidyard, near Taunton, 112. - - In the obituary of the _Times_, February 20th, 1862, were recorded - the deaths of persons who had attained the following ages: one of - 103, one of 94, two of 90, one of 85, one of 84, one of 82, and - eight of 70 years and upwards. And, on April 20th of the same year, - were recorded the deaths of ten persons, whose united ages amount to - 828 years, or an average of nearly 83. They comprise one of 100 and - one of 99. - - --------------------- -Footnote 37: - - See Burke’s _Peerage and Baronetage_, ed. 1848. - - ---------------------------- - - - HISTORIC TRADITIONS THROUGH FEW LINKS. - -Of late years considerable interest has been added to the attraction of -records of Longevity, by showing through how few individuals may be -traced the evidence of far-distant events and incidents in our history. - -Mr. Sidney Gibson, F.S.A., relates some curious instances of this class. -A person living in 1847, then aged about 61, was frequently assured by -his father that, in 1786, he repeatedly saw one Peter Garden, who died -in that year at the age of 127 years; and who, when a boy, heard Henry -Jenkins give evidence in a court of justice at York, to the effect that, -when a boy, he was employed in carrying arrows up the hill before the -battle of Flodden Field. - - This battle was fought in 1513 - - Henry Jenkins died in 1670, - - at the age of 169 - - Deduct for his age at the time of - - the battle of Flodden Field 12 - - ——— 157 - - Peter Garden, the man who heard - - Jenkins give his evidence, died at 127 - - Deduct for his age when he saw 11 - Jenkins - - ——— 116 - - The person whose father knew Peter - - Garden was born shortly before - 1786, - - or seventy years since 70 - - ———— - - A.D. 1856 - -So that a person living in 1786 conversed with a man that fought at -Flodden Field. - -Mr. Gibson then passes on to some remarkable instances of longevity from -the Scrope and Grosvenor Roll, the record of the celebrated cause in the -reign of Richard II., when, among the noble and knightly deponents who -gave evidence in the following year, 1386, were: - -Sir John Sully, Knight of the Garter and a distinguished soldier of the -cross, who had served for eighty years, was then, by his own account, -105 years of age, and who is supposed to have died in his 108th year. - -But, more remarkable, John Thirlwall, an esquire of an ancient -Northumbrian house, deposes to what he heard from his father, who died -forty-four years before, at the age of 145. - -Not far from Thirlwall Castle, at Irthington, Mr. B. Gibson has seen the -register of the burial of Robert Bowman, one of the most remarkable of -the long-lived yeomen of that parish, who died in the year 1823, at the -age of 118. - -Mr. John Bruce, F.S.A., has also illustrated our subject by the -following curious evidence. Lettice, Countess of Leicester, was born in -1539 or ’40, and was consequently 7 years old at the death of Henry -VIII. She may very well have had a recollection of the bluff monarch, -who cut off the head of her great-aunt, Anne Boleyn. She was thrice -married, and had seen six English sovereigns, or seven if Philip be -counted; her faculties were unimpaired at 85; and until a year or two of -her death, on Christmas-day 1634, at the age of 94, she “could yet walk -a mile of a morning.” Lettice was one of a long-lived race: her father -lived till 1596; two of her brothers attained the ages of 86 and 99. - -There is nothing (says Mr. Bruce) incredible, or even very -extraordinary, in Lettice’s age; but even her years will produce curious -results if applied to the subject of possible transmission of knowledge -through few links. I will give one example: “Dr. Johnson, who was born -in 1709, might have known a person who had seen the Countess Lettice. If -there are not now (1857), there were amongst us within the last three or -four years, persons who knew Dr. Johnson. There might, therefore, be -only two links between ourselves and the Countess Lettice, who saw Henry -VIII.”[38] - -Mr. John Pavin Philips writes from Haverfordwest: “A friend of mine, now -(1857) in his 80th year, knew an old woman resident in his parish who -remembered her grandmother, who saw Cromwell when he was in -Pembrokeshire, in 1648. I myself, when a student in Edinburgh in 1837, -knew a centenarian lady, named Butler, who well recollected being taken -by her mother to witness the public entry of Prince Charles Edward into -the city in 1745.” And in Haverfordwest might be seen daily walking, in -1857, in perfect health, a man who was born four years previous to the -death of George II.[39] - -Mary Yates, of Shiffnal, Salop, who died 1776, aged 128, well remembered -walking to view the ruins of the Great Fire of London, 1666. - -In the _News Letter_ of June 1st, 1724, Bodl. Mss., Rawl. C., it is -related, that on the King’s birthday, as the nobility and others of -distinction passed through Pall Mall to Court at St. James’s, there sat -in the street one Elinor Stuart, being 124 years old. She had kept a -linen-shop at Kendal, and had nine children living at the time King -Charles I. was beheaded, and was undone by adhering to the royal cause. -“She is reckoned,” says the account (Jane Skrimshaw, who was now dead, -being 128), “the oldest woman in London.”[40] - -Margaret Mapps, of Eaton, near Leominster, who died in 1800, aged 109, -had so retentive a memory, that to her last hours she could relate many -incidents which she had witnessed in the reign of Queen Anne. - -In 1858 died Mrs. Milward, of Blackheath, at the age of 102. She was, -consequently, born four years previous to the accession of George III.; -she saw the separation of the American colonies from the mother country; -the three French revolutions, and the great war with France; she well -remembered the London riots of 1780, and was placed in some jeopardy in -Hyde-park in one of the incidents. - -Jane Forrester, of Cumberland, is stated in the _Public Advertiser_, -March 9th, 1766, as then living in her 138th year: she remembered -Cromwell’s siege of Carlisle, in 1646; and in 1762 she gave evidence in -a Chancery-suit of an estate having been enjoyed by the ancestors of the -then heir 101 years. - -One Evans, of Spitalfields, who died 1780, is stated to have reached the -age of 139 years: he remembered the execution of Charles I., at which -time he was 7 years old. - -In the London newspapers of November 7th, 1788, is recorded the -celebration of the centenary of the Revolution, at which was present a -person who remembered that glorious event; he was 112 years old, and -belonged to the French Hospital, Old Street-road, where were then ten -persons whose ages together were 1000 years. - -In 1826 there died at Corby, near Carlisle, aged 102, one Joseph Liddle, -a shoemaker, who was at work in his shop, in the market-place of -Carlisle, when the Scotch rebels entered the town, in 1745; he was very -fond of horticulture, and, with little help, kept in order a large -garden nearly until the day of his death. - -Samuel Rogers, the banker-poet, who died on December 18th, 1855, aged -96, among many accomplishments possessed a most retentive memory; and -his sweep of recollections was very wide. - - He remembered when one of the Rebels’ heads remained on Temple Bar; - when schoolboys chased butterflies in the fields in cocked hats; - when gentlemen universally wore wigs and swords; when Ranelagh was - in all its glory, and ladies going thither had head-dresses so - preposterously high that they had to sit on stools placed in the - bottom of the coach; when Garrick crowded the theatre, Reynolds - crowded the lecture-room, and Johnson crowded the club; he had heard - the Duke of York relate how he and his brother George, when young - men, were robbed by footpads on Hay-hill, Berkeley-street; he had - shaken hands with John Wilkes, dined with Lafayette, Condorcet, &c. - at Paris, before the great Revolution began, and been present at - Warren Hastings’ trial in Westminster Hall; he had seen Lady - Hamilton go through her “attitudes” before the Prince of Wales, and - Lord Nelson spin a teetotum with his _one_ hand for the amusement of - children.—_R. Carruthers._ - - Mr. Peter Cunningham noted, a few days after the death of our Poet: - “When Rogers made his appearance as a poet, Lord Byron was - unborn—and Byron has been dead thirty-one years! When Percy Bysshe - Shelley was born, Rogers was in his 30th year—and Shelley has been - dead nearly thirty-four years! When Keats was born, _The Pleasures - of Memory_ was looked upon as a standard poem—and Keats has been - dead thirty-five years! When this century commenced, the man who - died but yesterday, and in the latter half too of the century, had - already numbered as many years as Burns and Byron had numbered when - they died. Mr. Rogers was born before the following English poets: - Scott, Southey, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, Moore, Campbell, - Bloomfield, Cunningham, Hogg, James Montgomery, Shelley, Keats, - Wilson, Tom Hood, Kirk White, Lamb, Joanna Baillie, Felicia Hemans, - L. E. L.; and he outlived them all.” - -On April 24th, 1858, died Mr. James Nolan, at Auchindrane, Carlow, -Ireland, aged 115 years and 9 months. There is something more -interesting than his being the oldest subject of her Majesty, who had -lived in the reigns of five sovereigns of England; and no doubt it is -curious to be carried back by two lives—Mr. Nolan and his father—to the -reign of Charles II., and almost to the time of Cromwell. - -Here is a remarkable instance: Commander Pickernell, R.N., who died -April 20th, 1859, aged 87, knew well in his youth a man who was a -soldier encamped on Hounslowheath at the time of the Revolution in 1688. -This same man played an instrument in the band at Queen Anne’s -coronation, and served through Marlborough’s wars; in his old age he -returned to the neighbourhood of his native place, Whitby, where he -died, considerably over a century, when Commander Pickernell was a boy -about 7 or 8 years old.[41] - -The venerable President of Magdalen College, Oxford, Dr. Routh, who died -1855, in his hundredth year, brought up old memories of times and men -long passed away. Dr. Routh had known Dr. Theophilus Lee, the -contemporary of Addison; had seen Dr. Johnson “in his brown wig -scrambling up the steps of University College;” and had been told by a -lady of her aunt who had been present when Charles II. walked round the -parks at Oxford. - -Dr. Routh had maintained an immediate and personal connexion with the -University of Oxford for upwards of 80 years; and his long life supplied -many instructive links between the present and the past. He was born in -the reign of King George II., before the beginning of the Seven Years’ -War; before India was conquered by Clive, or Canada by Wolfe; before the -United States ever dreamt of independence; and before Pitt had impressed -the greatness of his own character on the policy of Britain. The life of -this college student comprehended three most important periods in the -history of the world. Martin Routh saw the last years of the old state -of society which introduced the political deluge; he saw the deluge -itself—the great French Revolution, with all its catastrophes of thrones -and opinions; and he lived to see the more stirring but not less -striking changes which forty years of peace had engendered. It is -therefore not a little curious to read of such a man, that the times on -which his thoughts chiefly dwelt were those of the Stuarts; which is -not, however, altogether surprising, as he might himself have shaken -hands with the Pretender. This Prince did not die till young Routh was -ten years of age; so that, if accident had put the chance in his way, he -might easily have had an interview with the representative of James -II.[42] What an interval was there between this epoch and Dr. Routh -sitting for a photograph on his hundredth birthday! - - --------------------- -Footnote 38: - - See _Notes and Queries_, 2d series, Nos. 51 and 53. - -Footnote 39: - - Ibid. No. 58. - -Footnote 40: - - W. D. Macray; _Notes and Queries_, 2d series, No. 23. - -Footnote 41: - - _Notes and Queries_, 2d series, No. 169. - -Footnote 42: - - Condensed from the _Times_ journal. - - ---------------------------- - - - LONGEVITY IN FAMILIES. - -The long life of different members of the same family is remarkable. In -1836, Mrs. H. P., residing near the Edgeware-road, attained her 103d -year: she had three sisters,—one 107, another 105; and the other, who -died about 1834, 100. - -Mr. Bailey records the death of Widow Stephenson, of Wolverton, Durham, -in 1816, aged 104: her mother lived to be 106, two sisters 106 and 107, -and a brother 97; making an aggregate of 519 years as the age of these -five relatives. - -Edward Simon, 81 years a dock-labourer in Liverpool, died 1821, aged -101: his mother lived to 103; his father 101; and a brother 104. - -Gilbert Wakefield states that his wife’s great-grandfather and -great-grandmother’s matrimonial connexion lasted seventy-five years: -they died nearly at the same time, she at the age of 98, he at the age -of 108. He was out hunting a short time before his death. His portrait -is in the hall of Mr. Legh, of Lyme. - -Mary Tench, of Cromlin, Ireland, who died 1790, aged 100, was of aged -parents; her father attained 104, and her mother 96; her uncle reached -110 and she left two sisters, whose aggregate ages made 170. - -In the year 1811, within four miles of the house at Alderbury formerly -occupied by Parr, there died, in the month of September, four persons, -whose ages were 97, 80, 96, and 97. There were then living in the -neighbourhood a man aged 100, and two others of 90. - -The Costello family, county Kilkenny, lived to very great ages. On June -12, 1824, died Mary Costello, aged 102; her mother died at precisely the -same age; her grandmother at 120; her great-grandmother exceeded 125: -long before her death, she had to be rocked in a cradle, like an infant. -Mary Costello’s brother lived beyond 100 years; and when 90, cut down -half an acre of grass in a day.[43] - -In Appleby churchyard is a tombstone in memory of three persons named -Hall: the grandfather died in 1716, aged 109, and the father aged 86; -and the son died in 1821, aged 106. “So that the father had seen a man -(his father) who saw James I., and also a man (his son) who saw me, or -might have done so.”[44] - -The Countess of Mornington, who died in 1831, attained the age of 90: -her eldest son, the Marquis Wellesley, ennobled for his administration -in India, reached 82; his brother, Lord Maryborough, 83; Lady -Maryborough, 91; and their brother, the Great Duke of Wellington, 83. We -possess a small portrait of Lady Mary Irvine, aunt to Lady Maryborough, -painted in her 82d year; the face is without a wrinkle, but of _riant_ -beauty. - -The London bankers, Joseph and William Joseph Denison, exceeded 80; and -the sister of the latter, Dowager Marchioness of Conyngham, 90. - -Lady Blakiston, died, November 1862, in her 102d year; and her eldest -son, Sir Matthew Blakiston, died December following, in his 82d year. - -“On 8th April 1860, Mr. S. Cronesberry died at Farmer’s Bridge, aged 99. -His grandfather died in 97th year; his father died in 97th year; his -mother in 98th year.”[45] - -Archibald, 9th Earl of Dundonald, died 1831, aged 83; and his son, 10th -Earl, 1860, reached 82: both in the naval service, and distinguished by -their scientific attainments. - - --------------------- -Footnote 43: - - _Dublin Warder_, 1824. - -Footnote 44: - - Letter of Baron Alderson, in his _Life_, by his Son, date Feb. 19, - 1833. - -Footnote 45: - - _Kilkenny Moderator._ - - ---------------------------- - - - FEMALE LONGEVITY. - -One of the most celebrated personages in the history of Female Longevity -is the Countess of Desmond, who is usually said to have died early in -the 17th century, aged 140 years. Bacon, in his _Natural History_, -describes her as “the old Countess of Desmond, who lived till she was -sevenscore years old, that she did _dentire_ (produce teeth) twice or -thrice.” Sir Walter Raleigh, in his _History of the World_, says: “I -myself _knew_ the old Countess of Desmond of Inchiquin, in Munster, who -lived in the year 1589, and many years since, who was married in Edward -IV.’s time, and held her jointure from all the Earls of Desmond since -then: and that this is true, all the noblemen and gentlemen in Munster -can witness.”[46] Sir William Temple was told by Robert Earl of -Leicester of the Countess married in Edward IV.’s time, “and who lived -far in King James’s reign, and was counted to have died some years above -140.” There has been much controversy respecting the portraits of this -lady which are said to exist: that in the possession of the Knight of -Kerry, and engraved in 1806, is reputed authentic; and after much -discussion, the Countess has been identified as Katharine, second wife -of Thomas 12th Earl of Desmond, who died in 1534. Fynes Morrison, the -traveller, who was in Ireland from 1599 to 1603, tells of the Countess -living to the age of about 140 years; of her walking four or five miles -weekly to the market-town in her last years; and of her death by falling -out of a tree which she had climbed to gather nuts. There is a tradition -which might be true, of her having danced at Court with the Duke of -Gloucester (Richard III.), of whom she affirmed that he was the -handsomest man in the room, except his brother Edward, and was very well -made.[47] - -Of Margaret Patten, stated to have died 136 and 138 years old, a curious -portrait was found at Glasgow, amongst some family papers, in 1853. She -was born in the parish of Locknugh, near Paisley, in Scotland, and is -described beneath the portrait as “now living in the workhouse of St. -Margaret’s, Westminster, aged 138.” And in the Boardroom of St. -Margaret’s workhouse is another portrait of Margaret (there stated to be -136), the gift of the overseers of the parish in 1737. The old woman was -buried in the burial-ground of the Broadway church, now Christ-church, -Westminster, where a stone is inscribed, “Near this place lieth Margaret -Patten, who died June 26, 1739, in the Parish Workhouse, aged 136.” “She -was brought to England to prepare Scotch broth for King James II.; but -owing to the abdication of that monarch, fell into poverty, and died in -St. Margaret’s workhouse. Her body was followed to the grave by the -parochial authorities and many of the principal inhabitants, while the -children sung a hymn before it reached its last resting-place.”[48] - -In the Dublin Exhibition of 1853 was a print with this inscription: -“Mary Gore, born at Cottonwith in Yorkshire, A.D. 1582; lived upwards of -one hundred years in Ireland, and died in Dublin, aged 145 years. This -print was done from a picture _taken_ (the word is torn off) when she -was one hundred and forty-three. Vanluych _pinxit_, T. Chambers -_del._”[49] - -The following instances of long widowhoods are interesting: the widow of -Thomas, second Lord Lyttleton, who died in 1779, survived his lordship -in a state of widowhood sixty-one years, dying in 1840, aged 97. - -The widow of David Garrick died in 1822, in the same house, on the -Adelphi-terrace, wherein her celebrated husband died forty-three years -previously. We remember a small etching of the old lady appearing in the -print-shops just after her death, portraying her characteristic -dignified deportment. Among the legacies bequeathed to her husband’s -family was a service of pewter used by him when a bachelor, and having -the name of Garrick engraven on it. - -The widow of Charles James Fox, the statesman, died in 1842, aged 96, -having survived her husband thirty-six years. - -Amelia Opie, the amiable novelist, died in 1853, in her 85th year, -having survived her husband, the painter, forty-six years. He painted a -remarkable picture of Mrs. Opie,—two portraits, full-face and profile, -upon the same canvas; they are said to be faithful likenesses. - -Some years since, writes the editor of the _Quarterly Review_, “we -beheld the strange sight of an old woman, aged 102, bent double, -crooning over the fire, and nursing in her lap an infant a few days old. -The infant was the grandchild of the old woman’s grandchild. The only -remarkable circumstance in the veteran’s history was, that she had -nursed Wordsworth in his infancy. She had lived the greater part of her -life in Westmoreland, near the poet’s residence, and there her -descendants had been chiefly born and lived.” - -Here are a few instances of women of remarkable talent attaining great -ages: - -Caroline Lucretia Herschel, who discovered seven comets, and passed -years of nights as amanuensis to her brother, Sir William Herschel, in -his astronomical labours, attained the age of 97, with her intellect -clear, and princes and philosophers alike striving to do her honour. - -Miss Linwood, whose Needlework Pictures were exhibited nearly sixty -years, died in 1844, at the age of 90. No needlework of ancient or -modern times has ever surpassed these productions. The collection -consisted of sixty-four pictures, mostly of large or gallery size; the -finest work, from the “Salvator Mundi,” by Carlo Dolci, was bequeathed -by Miss Linwood to Queen Victoria; for this picture 3000 guineas had -been refused. - -Dr. Webster, F.R.S., who takes great interest in records of Longevity, -in 1860 contributed to the _Athenæum_ a copy of the certificate of birth -of a lady in her 100th year, living at Hampstead, namely, the surviving -sister of the authoress Miss Joanna Baillie, who died 1851, aged 89. -This document is as follows: - - Copy of an entry in a separate register of the Presbytery of - Hamilton, under the head “Shotts.”—That Mr. James Baillie had a - daughter named Agnes, born 24th September 1760, attested and signed - at Hamilton the 25th day of November 1760, in presence of the - Presbytery.—Signed, James Baillie; John Kirk, Clerk; Patrick - Maxwell, Moderator. - -In the same year, 1859, died Lady Morgan, the novelist, at 76; Leigh -Hunt, the poet and _littérateur_, at 75; Washington Irving, at 77; and -Thomas de Quincey, at 76. - -Lady Charlotte Bury, the novelist, attained the age of 88, retaining her -beauty and conversational accomplishments to the last; she died 1861. - -The Dowager Countess of Hardwicke, who died in 1858, in her long life -brought points of time together which, at first, seem separated by -impassable spaces. She was born in 1763, and was consequently 95 years -of age; but her father, the Earl of Balcarres, having been advanced in -years at the time of her birth, their two lives extend back to before -the beginning of the eighteenth century; and it was strange to hear, in -1858, that a person just dead could speak of her father as having been -“out in the Fifteen” (1715) with Lord Derwentwater and Forster, and -having been begged off by the great Duke of Marlborough. Yet such was -the fact; and not only so, but having been born in 1649, the three lives -of grandfather, son, and granddaughter stretched over a period of 200 -years; and, when her grandmother was married, Charles II. gave away the -bride! When this venerable lady was born, Pitt the younger was 4 years -old; Fox, a lad of 14; and Sheridan of 12,—so that they were strictly -her contemporaries; Burke was turned of 30; she was 21 years old when -Dr. Johnson died, and a well-grown girl when Goldsmith died, so that she -might have known them both; and Sir Joshua Reynolds may have painted -her, as she was near 30 when he died. All the literature of this -century, running back to the birth of Scott and Wordsworth, eight or -nine years after her own, was as much hers as ours. She was married and -26 before the French Revolution began; and the whole of the American -Revolution must have been within her personal recollection. - -Then there was Viscountess Keith, who died at about the same age, 95, -and who had been “the plaything often, when a child,” of Johnson, and -who received his last blessing on his death-bed. She was the daughter of -Mrs. Thrale, and was a link that directly connected us with the Literary -Club at its foundation, all the members of which she must have seen, and -most of whom she was old enough to know well as a grown-up young lady. - -Lady Louisa Stuart, the daughter of the Marquess of Bute, actually -remembered her grandmother, Lady Mary Wortley Montague, who died in -1762. She herself died 1851, aged 94, and was the intimate friend of -Scott, and one of the few original depositaries of the Waverley secret. - -And Mary Berry, aged 89, and her sister Agnes, 88, both died in 1852, -having lived in the best of London society for sixty years. For the -amusement of these ladies, Horace Walpole wrote his most delightful -_Reminiscences_. - - --------------------- -Footnote 46: - - _History of the World_, book i. chap. 5. - -Footnote 47: - - Chambers’s _Book of Days_, vol. i. - -Footnote 48: - - Walcott’s _Westminster_, p. 238. - -Footnote 49: - - Eironnach; _Notes and Queries_, No. 215. - - ---------------------------- - - - LONGEVITY AND DIET. - -It may now be as well to glance at the modes of living of a few of the -patriarchal folks. Cornaro, who is one of the _penates_ of healthful -longevity, was born at Venice in 1464, of a noble family. In early life -he injured his health by intemperance, and by indulging his propensity -to anger; but he succeeded in acquiring such a command over himself, and -in adopting such a system of temperance, as to recover his health and -vigour, and to enjoy life to an extreme old age. At 83 he wrote a comedy -“abounding with innocent mirth and pleasant jests.” At 86 he wrote: “I -contrive to spend every hour with the greatest delight and pleasure.” He -was fond of literature and the conversation of men of sense and good -manners, and his principal delight was to be of service to others. Every -year he travelled, visited architects, painters, sculptors, musicians, -and husbandmen; and he was especially fond of natural scenery. “Being -freed, by God’s grace, from the perturbations of the mind and the -infirmities of the body,” he no longer experienced any of those contrary -emotions which torment a number of young men, and many old ones -destitute of strength and health, and every other blessing. His diet -consisted of bread, meat, eggs, and soup, not exceeding in the day -three-quarters of a pound of food, and a pint of new wine. He passed -with health and comfort beyond his hundredth year; and at Padua, in -1566, sitting in his arm-chair, he died, as he had lived for his last -threescore years, exempt from pain and suffering. - -Thomas Parr[50] was an early riser. Taylor, the Water-poet, quaintly -sings of his mode of living: - - Good wholesome labour was his exercise, - Down with the lamb, and with the lark would rise; - In wise and toiling sweat he spent the day, - And to his team he whistled time away; - The cock his night-clock, and till day was done, - His watch and chief sun-dial was the sun. - He was of old Pythagoras’ opinion, - That new cheese was most wholesome with an onion; - Coarse meslin bread; and for his daily swig, - Milk, butter-milk, and water, whey and whig; - Sometimes metheglin, and, by fortune happy, - He sometimes sipped a cup of ale most nappy, - Cider or perry, when he did repair - To a Whitson ale, wake, wedding, or a fair, - Or when in Christmas-time he was a guest, - At his good landlord’s house among the rest; - Else he had little leisure-time to waste, - Or at the alehouse buff-cup ale to taste; - His physic was good butter, which the soil - Of Salop yields, more sweet than Candy-oil; - And garlic he esteemed above the rate - Of Venice treacle, or best mithridate; - He entertained no gout, no ache he felt, - The air was good and temperate where he dwelt; - Thus living within bounds of Nature’s laws, - Of his long-lasting life may be some cause. - -Taylor thus describes the person of Parr: - - From head to heel, his body had all over - A quick-set, thick-set, natural hairy cover. - -The Vegetarians maintain that their system of living conduces highly to -longevity. We find in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, 1774, this recorded -instance: “At Brussels, Elizabeth de Val, aged 103, who was remarkable -for never having eaten a bit of meat in her life.” - -An advocate of vegetable diet adduces the Norwegian and Russian -peasantry as the most remarkable instances of extreme longevity: “The -last returns of the Greek Church population of the Russian empire give -(in the table of the deaths of the male sex) more than one thousand -above 100 years of age, many between 140 and 150.... Slaves in the West -Indies are recorded from 130 to 150 years of age.” Widow Rogers, of -Penzance, Cornwall, who died 1779, aged 118, for the last sixty years -lived entirely on vegetable diet. - -Among the Pythagoreans of our time should be mentioned Sir Richard -Phillips, who from his twelfth year conceived an abhorrence of the -slaughter of animals for food; and from that period to his death, at the -age of 72, he lived entirely on vegetable products, enjoying such robust -health that no stranger could have suspected his studious and sedentary -habits.[51] Sometimes this Pythagorean principle was strongly -enunciated; as, when about to take his seat at a supper-party, -perceiving a lobster on the table, he loudly denounced the cruelty of -his friends’ sitting down to eat a creature which had been boiled alive! -and the offensive dish had to be removed. Sir Richard often published -his Reasons for not eating Animal Food; his abstinence drew upon him the -harmless ridicule of a writer in the _Quarterly Review_, observing that, -although he would not eat meat, he was addicted to gravy over his -potatoes. - -One Wilson, of Worlingworth, Suffolk, who died 1782, aged 116, for the -last forty years of his life supped off roasted turnips, to which he -ascribed his long life. - -The Hon. Mrs. Watkins, of Glamorganshire, who died 1790, aged 110, for -her last thirty years lived principally on potatoes. The year before her -death she came from Glamorgan to London to see Mrs. Siddons play, and -attended the theatre nine nights; and one morning she mounted to the -Whispering-gallery of St. Paul’s Cathedral. - -It is rarely that table-wits attain such longevity as did Captain -Morris, the Anacreon of the Beef-steak Club, who wrote lyrics at the age -of 90. He died three years afterwards. He was of short stature, and -usually wore a buff waistcoat, such as he apostrophised in one of his -latest lyrics, “The old Whig Poet to his old Buff Waistcoat.” He lies in -the churchyard of Betchworth, Surrey,—his grave simply marked by a head -and foot stone, 1838. - -Civic annals present few such instances of long life as that of Richard -Clark, Chamberlain of London, who died 1831, in his 92d year. He was one -of the latest of the contemporaries of Dr. Johnson, whom he had known -from his 15th year: when sheriff, he took the Doctor to a “Judges’ -Dinner” at the Old Bailey, the judges being Blackstone and Eyre. - -In the autumn of 1831 died the Rev. Dr. Shaw, aged 83, of Chesley, -Somerset, said to have been the last surviving friend of Dr. Johnson. - -Few persons addicted to riotous living attain great ages. A remarkable -exception is recorded of George Kirton, Esq., of Oxcrop Hall, Yorkshire, -who died in 1762, aged 125. He was a stanch foxhunter, and hunted till -after he was 80; thenceforth, till his hundredth year, he attended the -“breaking cover” in his single chair. He was a heavy drinker till within -a few years of his death. - -Thomas Whittington, who died at Hillingdon, Middlesex, in 1804, aged -104, retained his faculties to the last, and could walk two or three -miles; yet he was a great drinker, gin being the only fluid he took into -his stomach, and of this a pint and a half daily, until a fortnight of -his death. He remembered William III. and Queen Anne; and in 1745 he -conveyed troops and baggage from Uxbridge to London. His father died at -exactly the same age (104) as the son, and both lie in Hillingdon -churchyard. - - --------------------- -Footnote 50: - - In the Ashmolean Collection at Oxford is a portrait of Old Parr, - presumed to have been painted from the life, and, we believe, not - engraved. The portrait by Rubens is well known. - -Footnote 51: - - The portrait of Sir Richard Phillips as Sheriff, painted by Saxon, - shows him as above described. The picture is of gallery size, and in - the possession of his grandson and representative, Mr. Bacon Phillips, - M.R.C.S., of Brighton. The bust of Sir Richard, by Turnerelli, conveys - a similar _personnel_. - - ---------------------------- - - - LONGEVITY AND LOCALITIES. - -With respect to the atmosphere most favourable to health and longevity, -Sir John Sinclair says, “More depends upon a current of pure air than -mere elevation. There is no place in Scotland, proportionably with its -population, where a greater number of aged people are to be found than -in the neighbourhood of Loch Lomond.” The purest atmosphere, Sir John -maintains, is in the neighbourhood of a small stream running over a -rocky or pebbly bottom. - -Mr. Thomas Bailey, in his _Records of Longevity_, states that -“Nottinghamshire has the driest atmosphere of any district in England, -the depth of rain which falls there being something like 50 per cent -below what falls in Lancashire, Devonshire, and one or two of the -northern counties;” yet the records show that it enjoys no superiority, -in point of the longevity of its inhabitants, over those moister -districts. Hence it is concluded that moderately moist air is most -conducive to great age. The reason Hufeland assigns for this is, that -moist air, being in part already saturated, has less attractive power -over bodies,—that is to say, consumes them less. Besides, in a moist -atmosphere there is always more uniformity of temperature, fewer rapid -revolutions of heat being possible than in a dry atmosphere. Lastly, an -atmosphere somewhat moist keeps the muscular tissue of the body longer -pliable, whereas that which is dry or arid brings on much sooner -rigidity of the muscles and vessels of the body, and all the -characteristics of old age. It is this very dry air, joined with the -heat of the sun, which gives to the dried and shrivelled skin of the -face of some old men, in the felicitous humour of Charles Dickens, “the -appearance of a walnut-shell.” - -We now proceed to cite instances of Long Life from various localities. -On the fly-leaves of a book named _Long Livers_, published in 1722, were -written the following notes of several old persons in Yorkshire: Ursula -Chicken, at Holderness, 120 years in 1718, and she lived some years -later. In Firbeck churchyard were buried a brother and son, one 113 and -the other 109 years old, both of whom had lived in caves at Roche Abbey. -Mr. Philip, of Thorner, born in Cleveland (the birthplace of Old -Jenkins), had his picture taken when he was 116 years old, with all his -senses perfect. Thomas Rudyard, Vicar of Everton, in Bedfordshire, died -in King Charles’s time, aged 140 years, as appears by the parish -register. Early in June 1768 died, at Burythorpe, near Malton, Francis -Consit, aged 150 years. A few years previously there were three women, -each 100 years old, or upwards, who lived in and about Whitwell, met at -that town and danced a Yorkshire reel. About 1758 a woman died at Sutton -107 years old. “Old Robinson’s father, at Boltby, lived to 108,” and he -himself beyond 98.[52] - -The register of Middleton Tyas, adjoining, contains, in sixteen years, -entries of 230 persons buried, of whom seventy-six had reached the age -of 70 years or upwards. In 1813, of fifteen deceased, three were 90, 91, -and 92; in 1815 a person died 97; and thirty-three of the number -specified were 80 years old and upwards; and in the churchyard are -buried two persons of 103 and 101 years. But within the last thirty-five -years instances of longevity in this parish, once so common, form the -exception. - -Mr. Durrant Cooper, F.S.A., has communicated to _Notes and Queries_, No. -212, these interesting records from the burial register of -Skelton-in-Cleveland, in the North Riding of Yorkshire: - - Out of 799 persons buried between 1813 and 1852, no less than 263, - or nearly one-third, attained the age of 70. Of these, two were - respectively 101. Nineteen others were 90 years of age and upwards, - viz. one 97, one 96, one 95, four 94, one 93, five 92, three 91, and - three 90. Between the ages of 80 and 90 there died 109; and between - 70 and 80 there died 133. In one page of the register, containing - eight names, six were above 80, and in another five were above 70. - - In the parish of Skelton there was then living a man named Moon, 104 - years old, who was blind, but managed a small farm till nearly or - quite 100; and a blacksmith, named Robinson Cook, aged 98, who - worked at his trade until within six months of this age. - - In the chapelry of Brotton, adjoining Skelton township, the - longevity was even more remarkable. Out of 346 persons buried since - the new register came into force in 1813, down to Oct. 1, 1853, more - than one-third attained the age of 70. One Betty Thompson, who died - in 1834, was 101; nineteen were more than 90, of whom one was 98, - two 97, three 95, one 93, four 92, five 91, and three 90; forty-four - died between 80 and 90 years old, and fifty-seven between 70 and 80, - of whom thirty-one were 75 and upwards. That celibacy did not lessen - the chance of life was proved by a bachelor named Simpson, who died - at 82, and his maiden sister at 91. - -Gilling, in Richmondshire, shows also a very great length of life, and -in persons above 90 years of age a larger proportion even than in the -Cleveland parishes. Between 1813 and 1853, of 701 persons buried, 207, -or rather more than one-third, attained the age of 70 and upwards. Three -were 100, or upwards; between 90 and 100, twenty-one; one 96, 95, and -94; two 92, six 91, and ten 90. Between 80 and 90 there died 87; between -70 and 80, ninety-six. - -George Stephenson, a farm-labourer, of Runald-Kirk, near Barnard-Castle, -Durham, who died 1812, aged 105, was a very early riser; he used to -reprove (for lying a-bed) his daughter and her husband, both about 70 -years of age, but who rose before six o’clock in the morning,—George -saying, “if they would not work while they were _young_, what would they -do when they became old?” - -Mr. Carruthers, of Inverness, whose evidence is entitled to respect, -wrote in 1836, that “the patriarchs of the glen of Strathcarron have -been gathered to their fathers. The primitive manners of the olden time -are disappearing even in that remote corner, and human life is dwindling -down to its ordinary brief limits.” This experience is the converse of -the opinion that civilisation and refinement tend to lengthen life. - -The Western Isles of Scotland have long been noted for persons of great -age. Martin describes a male native of Jura, who had kept 180 Christmas -festivals in his own house, and this marvellous account was confirmed to -Pennant; but the evidence is not given, and the man died fifty years -before Martin’s visit. Buchanan, in his _History of Shetland_, gives an -account of one Laurence, a Shetlander, who lived to 140; Dr. Derham, in -his _Physico-Theology_, confirms this, and Martin received from -Laurence’s family particulars of his fishing to the last year of his -life. At Orkney Martin heard of a man aged 112; and that one William -Muir, of Westra, lived to be near 140. Tarquis M’Leod, near Stornoway, -in the island of Lewis, died in 1787, aged 113; he had fought at -Killiecrankie, Sheriffmuir, and Culloden, under the Stuarts. - -In the _Aberdeen Journal_ we find this evidence: Died, at Strichen, -Widow Reid, aged 81; and in the following fortnight, Christian Grant, -aged 97 years. The surviving resident paupers number only twenty-five, -and among them there are seven individuals whose respective ages are 92, -90, 88, 86, 83, 82, and 80 years—making a total of 601 years, and an -average of nearly 86 years to each. These statistics, in a parish -containing a population of only 947, are perhaps unparalleled in -Scotland. - -A well-authenticated instance is that of Mrs. Elizabeth Gray, who died -at Edinburgh on the 2d of April 1856, at the age of 108, having been -born in May 1748, as chronicled in the register of her father’s parish. -Her mother attained 96, and two of her sisters died at 94 and 96 -respectively. In 1808 died the Hon. Mrs. Hay Mackenzie, of Cromartie, at -the age of 103. The well-known Countess Dowager of Cork died in 1840, -having just completed her 94th year; she was to the last accustomed to -dine out every day when she had not company at home. Mr. Francis -Brokesby, in 1711, wrote of a woman then living near the Tower of -London, aged about 130, and who remembered Queen Elizabeth; to the last -there was not a gray hair on her head, and she never lost memory or -judgment. Mr. Brokesby also records the death, about 1660, of the wife -of a labouring man at Hedgerow, in Cheshire; she is said to have -attained the age of 140.[53] - -Reflecting upon this record, Mr. Robert Chambers observes, with poetic -feeling, “When we think of such things, the ordinary laws of nature seem -to have undergone some partial relaxation; and the dust of ancient times -almost becomes living flesh before our eyes.” We confess to the weakness -of being occasionally depressed in the society of some very aged -persons. We remember Louis Pouchée to have died about twenty years -since, considerably above 100 years old: his voice was a childish -treble, and there was at last a sort of forced gaiety in his manner -which was any thing but cheerful; his piping of “I’ve kissed and I’ve -prattled with fifty fair maids” was a lugubrious rendering of that -lively lyric. - -In White’s _Suffolk Directory_ for 1844, the following living instances -are recorded. “W. A. Shuldham, Esq., resides at the Hall, in which, on -July 18, 1843, he celebrated the hundredth anniversary of his birthday. -Mrs. Susan Godbold, who was born at Flixton, has resided at Metfield -eighty years, and walked round the village on her 104th birthday, Sept. -13, 1843. Thomas Morse, Esq., of Lound, is now in his 99th year.” Dr. -Smith, residing at Bawdsea, a few years since completed his 109th; when, -in the fulness of his spirits, he expressed a belief that he should live -for some years to come. - -Here is an instance of remarkable memory. George Kelson (”the Woodman,” -in illustration of Cowper’s poem) died near Bath in 1820, aged 101; he -gave evidence before the Commissioners of Public Charities, deposing, -with great clearness, to facts which had occurred ninety years before -his examination. - -The parish register of Bremhill, Wiltshire, records: “Buried, September -the 29th, 1696, Edith Goldie, Grace Young, Elizabeth Wiltshire. Their -united ages make 300 years.”[54] - -Two centuries ago, the now sleepy town of Woodstock, Oxon., was -proverbial for its long livers. The Rev. John Ward, Vicar of -Stratford-upon-Avon, in his Diary, 1648-9, records: “Old Bryan, of -Woodstock, a taylor by profession, and a fiddler by present practice, of -age 90, yet very lively, and will travail well. George Green and Cripps, -each 90, very hard labourers. Thomas Cock, _alias_ Hawkins, 112 years of -age when he died. Woodstock men frequently long lived. Goody Jones, of -Woodstock, and old Bryan, two such old people as it is thought England -does not afford, nor two such travailors of their age.” - -In 1637 there was living in Blackboy-lane, Oxford, “Mother George,” who, -although 120 years of age, could thread a fine needle without the help -of spectacles.[55] - -Between February and May 1767, there died in Oxford seven persons whose -ages together amount to 616, viz. 88, 93, 86, 87, 90, 82, and 90. In the -same year is recorded the death of Francis Ange, in Maryland, aged 130; -he was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, remembered the death of King Charles -I., and left England soon after.[56] - -The heads of Colleges in Oxford have frequently attained great ages: we -have mentioned Dr. Routh, President of Magdalen, who died in his 100th -year. There are generally very old people living in Oxford; and at -Iffley the ages recorded in the churchyard commonly exceed 70. - -Midhurst, in Sussex, must be a healthy locality; for, according to the -_Dublin Chronicle_, December 2, 1788, the town, then containing only 140 -houses and cottages, had seventy-eight inhabitants whose ages were above -70; thirty-two were 80 and upwards; and five were between 90 and 100; -and the seventy-eight persons, except four, were in some business or -occupation. - -Wye, near Ashford, Kent, is another noted locality for long life; the -ages of 70, 80, and even 90, being by no means rare in the parish -register. - -In 1800 twenty-two men died in England and Wales who had reached or -passed the age of 100, and forty-seven women. The oldest woman, 111 -years of age, died in Glamorganshire. With the men there was a tie: a -man aged 107 died in Hampshire, and another of the same age in -Pembrokeshire. Four of the centenarians died in London, two others at -Camberwell, one also at Greenwich, and one at Lewisham. More men died in -the year than women; but of the 595 persons who had reached the age of -95 or upwards before they died, nearly two-thirds were women. - -Great longevity is attained in some of the murky streets, lanes, and -alleys of London. In 1767 died Widow Prossen, of Oxford-road, in her -102d year, having passed nearly her whole life among old clothes in a -pawnbroker’s shop, accumulating a large fortune. In the same year died -her neighbour, Benjamin Perryn, aged 103. - -In 1767 also we find Widow Waters, of Saffron-hill, dying at the age of -103; and one Wood, of Markam-court, Chandos-street, at 100. - -In 1846 there died in grimy Holywell-street, Strand, one Harris, a Jew -clothesman, who had lived in the same street more than seventy years: -his wife died a few years before him, at the age of 93; and his eldest -son was 73 at the time of his father’s death. In 1780 there died in St. -Martin’s workhouse Widow Pettit, aged 114; and next year, Widow Parker, -of White-Hart-yard, Drury-lane, aged 108, with all her faculties -unimpaired. - -In 1788 there died at Hoxton, aged 121, a widow, who, up to a very -advanced period, cried gray peas for sale about the streets of London; -and was well remembered by many aged persons as a woman apparently -beyond the middle stage of life, full twenty years before the time of -her decease.[57] - -Occasionally we find very old persons almost _growing to the spot_ on -which they were born. In 1780 died at Englefield, Hants, James Hopper, -an agricultural labourer, aged 108, who had never quitted his native -Englefield even for a few miles. And in 1799 died Mr. Humphries, a -carpenter, born at Newington, Surrey, aged 102, and who would never go -more than two or three miles from the house in which he was born. One -Trundle, a farmer of Rotherhithe, who died 1766, aged 100, had lived in -the same house eighty-two years. Sometimes this takes the turn of -misanthropic seclusion: Christopher Tarran, of Sutton, near Richmond, -Yorkshire, who died 1827, aged 93, shut himself up in his chamber, from -which he never stirred during the last twenty years of his life, and -only twice admitted any one into the room. In 1811 there died at -Desford, Leicestershire, one John Upton, aged 100; he had been a worsted -framework-knitter for one firm in Leicester for ninety-three years. - -Widow Richardson, of Holwell, Leicestershire, who died 1806, aged 97, -kept school in the parish 75 years, and was never five miles from home -during her long life. - -We remember two stalwart millers, brothers, Joseph and John Saunders, -aged 79 and 73, born at Pixham-mill, and then of Pixham-house, hard by, -near the foot of Boxhill, Surrey, where they died, at the above ages. - - --------------------- -Footnote 52: - - Edward Hailstone, Horton Hall; _Notes and Queries_, 2d series, No. - 230. - -Footnote 53: - - Condensed from Chambers’s _Book of Days_, vol. i. - -Footnote 54: - - Britton’s _Wilts_. vol. iii. - -Footnote 55: - - _Walks in Oxford_, 1817. - -Footnote 56: - - _Select. Gent. Mag._ iv. - -Footnote 57: - - Bailey’s _Records of Longevity_, p. 249. - - ---------------------------- - - - LONGEVITY OF CLASSES. - -Deep-thinking philosophers have at all times been distinguished by their -great age, especially when their philosophy was occupied in the study of -Nature, and afforded them the divine pleasure of discovering new and -important truths,—the purest enjoyment; a beneficial exaltation of -ourselves, and a kind of restoration which may be ranked among the -principal means of prolonging the life of a perfect being. The most -ancient instances are to be found among the Stoics and the Pythagoreans, -according to whose ideas subduing the passions and sensibility, with the -observation of strict regimen, were the most essential duties of a -philosopher. Thus, we have the examples of a Plato and an Isocrates. -Apollonius of Tyana, an accomplished man, endowed with extraordinary -powers both of body and mind, who by the Christians was considered as a -magician, and by the Greeks and Romans as a messenger of the gods, in -his regimen a follower of Pythagoras, and a friend to travelling, was -above 100 years of age. Xenophilus, a Pythagorean also, lived 106 years. -The philosopher Demonax, a man of the most severe manners and uncommon -stoical apathy, lived likewise 100. Even in modern times philosophers -seem to have obtained this preëminence; and the deepest thinkers appear -in that respect to have enjoyed, in a higher degree, the fruits of their -mental tranquillity. Kepler and Bacon both attained to a great age; and -Newton, who found all his happiness and pleasure in the higher spheres, -attained to the age of 84. Euler, a man of incredible industry, whose -works on the most abstruse subjects amount to above three hundred, -approached near to the same age; and Kant, who reached the age of 80, -showed that philosophy not only can preserve life, but that it is the -most faithful companion of the greatest age, and an inexhaustible source -of happiness to one’s self and to others. Academicians, in this respect, -have been particularly distinguished. We need only mention the venerable -Fontenelle,[58] who wanted but one year of a hundred, and that Nestor, -Formey; both perpetual secretaries, the former of the French, and the -latter of the Berlin Academy. - -We find also many instances of long life among schoolmasters, so that -one might almost believe that continual intercourse with youth may -contribute something towards our renovation and support. But poets and -artists, in short all those fortunate mortals whose principal occupation -leads them to be conversant with the sports of fancy and self-created -worlds, and whose whole life, in the properest sense, is an agreeable -dream, have a particular claim to a place in the history of longevity. -Anacreon, Sophocles, and Pindar attained a great age. Young, Voltaire, -Bodmer, Haller, Metastasio, Gleim, Utz, and Oeser, all lived to be very -old; and Wieland, the prince of German poets, lived to the age of 80. -(See _Wilson on Longevity_.) - -Among the clergy are several remarkable instances. The venerable Bishop -Hough, the Cato of Sir Thomas Bernard’s _Comforts of Old Age_, through -an extraordinary degree of health of body and mind, attained the age of -92. “Blessed be God for his great mercies to me! I have to-day entered -my ninetieth year, with less infirmity than I could have presumed to -hope, and certainly with a degree of calmness and tranquillity of mind, -which is gradually increasing as I daily approach the end of my -pilgrimage. I think, indeed, that my life must now be but of short -duration; and, I thank God, the thought gives me no uneasiness.”[59] - -Sancroft, Archbishop of Canterbury, after he had been deprived and -ejected from Lambeth, for refusing to take any new oaths to William and -Mary, retired to his paternal estate, of 50_l._ a year, at Fresingfield, -in Suffolk, his birthplace. He was then approaching fourscore; and here -he was visited by Bishop Hough, in 1693. - - I found him (says the Bishop) working in his garden, and taking - advantage of a shower of rain which had fallen to transplant some - lettuces. I was struck with the profusion of his vegetables, the - beauty and luxuriance of his fruit-trees, and the richness and - fragrance of his flowers, and noticed the taste which had directed - every thing. “You must not compliment too hastily (says he) on the - _directions_ which I have given. Almost all you see is the work of - my own hands. My old woman does the weeding, and John mows my turf - and digs for me; but all the nicer work,—the sowing, grafting, - budding, transplanting, and the like,—I trust to no other hand but - my own; so long, at least, as my health will allow me to enjoy so - pleasing an occupation. And in good sooth (added he) the fruits here - taste more sweet, and the flowers have a richer perfume, than they - had at Lambeth.” I looked up to our deprived metropolitan with more - respect, and thought his gardening-dress shed more splendour over - him, than ever his robes and lawn-sleeves could have done when he - was the first subject in this great kingdom.[60] - -The Rev. Mr. Sampson, Incumbent of Keyham, Leicestershire, who died -1655, is stated by Thoresby to have held the living of his parish 92 -years; so that he could scarcely be less than 116 years old. - -The Rev. R. Lufkin, Rector of Ufford, Suffolk, died September 1678, aged -110, having preached the Sunday before he died. - -Morton, Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, who died 1695, aged 95, -constantly rose at four o’clock to his studies when he was 80 years old; -he usually lay upon a straw bed, and seldom exceeded one meal a day. - -Here are two lengthy incumbencies: “1753, December 22. Rev. Mr. -Braithwaite, of Carlisle, [died] aged 110. He had been 100 years in the -cathedral, having commenced singing-boy in the year 1652.” “1763. Rev. -Peter Alley (Rector of Donamow, Ireland, 73 years), [died] in the 111th -year of his age. He did his own duty till within a few days of his -death; he was twice married, and had thirty-three children.”[61] - -The Rev. John Bedwell, Rector of Odstock, near Salisbury, according to -the Bishop’s registry, held that benefice 73 years; and, by the parish -register, died at the age of 108. - -The Rev. S. W. Warneford, the munificent benefactor to colleges and -schools, died 1855, aged 92; and Maltby, Bishop of Durham, 1859, at 90. - -Soldiers who survive the chances of war are proverbial for long life: -there are several instances recorded in the Chelsea Hospital -burial-ground. The lists of the survivors of England’s great battles -present instances ranging from 100 to 120 years.[62] The oldest General -of our time was Marshal Count Joseph Radetzsky, who died January 5, -1858, in his 92d year. - -“History only mentions a single man who, at such an advanced age, -commanded an army in the field; and that was Dandolo, the Doge of -Venice, who was 95 years of age, and almost blind, when he commanded the -Venetians in the great Crusade, and who was the first to enter -Constantinople at the time of the assault on it in 1203. Talbot, Earl of -Shrewsbury, was 83 years old when he commanded in Guienne, in 1453; but -he was killed in the same year at the battle of Chatillon. Fuentes, -General of the Spanish troops at the battle of Rocroy, in 1643, was 82; -but he was gouty, and was carried in an arm-chair. He fell in that -battle, and with him disappeared the glory of the Spanish arms. The -Prussian Field-Marshal Mollendorf was present, in his 82d year, at the -defeat of Auerstadt, but not as commander-in-chief. One octogenarian of -modern times has been more fortunate than the preceding, and that is -Marshal de Villars, who, in his 81st year, undertook the campaign of -1712, crowned by the victory of Denain, which saved the French -monarchy.”[63] - -Quakers attain great ages. In the Obituary of the _Friend_ Magazine, -1860, we find the following ages of some deceased members of the Society -of Friends: 84, 84, 85, 85, 85, 86, 86, 87, 87, 88, 88, 89, 89, 89, 91, -91, 91, 91, 91, 91, 92, 92, 93, 93—making a total of 2128 years, with an -average for each life of rather more than 88½ years. Fifty lives in the -same period give 4258 years, with an average of 85 per life. The average -duration of life in the Society of Friends during 1860 was 58 years and -6 months; but one girl died under 6 months old; five girls and thirteen -boys—in all eighteen out of the 324, or 5½ per cent—did not reach the -age of one year. - -Hard-workers are often long livers. Hobson, the noted Cambridge carrier, -died on New-year’s Day, 1630-1, it is said in his 86th year. His visits -to London were suspended on account of the Plague, and during this -cessation he died; whereupon Milton remarked that Death would never have -hit him had he continued dodging it backwards and forwards between -Cambridge and the Bull Inn, Bishopsgate. - -One John King, of Nokes, Oxon, died in 1766, at the age of 130: he was a -farm-labourer, and at the age of 128 walked to and from the market at -Oxford—twelve miles. One Wilks, a farm-labourer, of Stourbridge, -Worcestershire, who died 1777, aged 109, was suspected by his ignorant -neighbours of having purchased the secret of long life from a witch with -whom he had become acquainted. - -An Irish fisherman, Jonas Warren, who died 1787, Mr. Bailey states, at -167, had for ninety-five years drawn his subsistence from the ocean. -Another fisherman, Worrell, of Dunwich, Suffolk, died 1789, aged 119, -having fished till he was 107. - -On June 3, 1862, there died at his farm, Tullyskerra, near -Castleblayney, Gilbert Hand, at the advanced age of 105 years. Two days -before his death deceased travelled round his farm, apparently taking -his last farewell of the fields in which he so often toiled. - -Of Ephraim Pratt, who was living at Shaftesbury, U.S., in 1803, aged 116 -years, the Rev. Timothy Dwight relates that he had mown grass 101 years -successively. He drank large quantities of milk, and in his latter years -it was almost his sole sustenance. His descendants, to the fifth -generation, it was publicly stated, numbered more than 1500 persons. - -Margaret Woods, of Great Waltham, who died 1797, aged 100, had, with her -ancestors, lived in the service of one Essex family for 400 years. - -Here is well-authenticated evidence of long service from Sussex. At -Battle is the gravestone of Isaac Ingoll, who died April 2, 1798, aged -120 years; his register is to be seen in the parish, and he lived 101 -years in the service of the Webster family, of Battle Abbey, having -entered it at the age of 19.[64] - -Philip Palfreman, who had been box-keeper at the first Covent Garden -Theatre in Garrick’s time, died in 1768, aged 100: he almost lived in -the theatre, and by his thrift saved a fortune of 10,000_l._ In 1845 -died William Ward, aged 98, of the Sun Fire Office, London, where he had -filled a situation seventy years. - -Jockeys, from the severe effects of training, are proverbially -short-lived; yet John Scott, of Brighton, once a jockey, reached the age -of 96. - -Great pedestrian feats have been performed by very old men. Mr. M’Leod, -of Inverness, who died 1790, aged 102, two years previously walked from -Inverness to London (five hundred miles) in nineteen days: he had served -in Marlborough’s wars. - -On May 28, 1802, a lunatic named James Coyle, 47 years old, was admitted -a patient into St. Patrick’s (Swift’s) Hospital, Dublin: he continued -there upwards of fifty-eight years, and eventually died July 17, 1860, -at the age of 105. There can surely be no mistake as to this great age. - -Peter Breman, of Dyott-street, St. Giles’s, London, is one of the few -instances on record of long life attained by tall men: he stood 6 feet 6 -inches high, and was in the army from the age of 18 nearly until his -decease, in 1769, at the age of 104 years. Another tall man, Edmund -Barry, of Watergrass-hill, Ireland, died 1822, aged 113: he was 6 feet 2 -inches in height, and walked well to the last. - -One John Minniken, of Maryport, Cumberland, who died 1793, aged 112, was -remarkable for the fast growth and profusion of his hair, which he sold, -in successive croppings, to a hairdresser of the town, for a penny a -day, during the remainder of his life; and more than seventy wigs were -made of Minniken’s hair. - -Among aged persons of diminutive stature was Mary Jones, of Wem, Salop, -who died 1773, aged 100: she was only 2 feet 8 inches in height. Elspeth -Watson, of Perth, who died 1800, aged 115, did not exceed 2 feet 9 -inches in height, but was bulky in person. - -Old age can rarely withstand intense grief. John Tice, of Hagley, -Worcestershire, having recovered from a fall out of a tree when he was -80 years old, and from being much burned when he was 100, after the -death of his patron, Lord Lyttleton, became so depressed in spirits, -that he took to his bed and died. Sir Francis Burdett had withstood the -storms and tumults of political life for more than half a century, and -had reached the age of 74, when his dear wife died, Jan. 10, 1844: from -that instant Sir Francis refused food or nourishment of any kind, and he -died of intense grief on the 23d of the same month: both were buried in -the same vault, in the same hour, on the same day, in the church of -Ramsbury, Wilts. - -Cardinal Fleury, the great French minister, who died in 1743, had -attained the age of 90. For fourteen years he essentially contributed to -the peace and prosperity of France; but the three last years of his -administration were unfortunate. On the death of the Emperor Charles -XI., in 1740, without male issue, a war ensued respecting the imperial -succession, the calamitous events of which preyed on the Cardinal’s mind -and occasioned his death. - -Sir John Floyer, Physician to Queen Anne, seems to have found the golden -mean of happiness. He died in 1734; four years previous to which he -visited Bishop Hough, at Hartlebury. “Sir John Floyer (writes the Bishop -to a friend) has been with me some weeks; and all my neighbours are -surprised to see a man of eighty-five, who has his memory, -understanding, and all his senses good; and seems to labour under no -infirmity. _He is of a happy temper, not to be moved with what he cannot -remedy;_ which I really believe has, in a great measure, helped to -preserve his health and prolong his days.” This is the grand secret. Sir -John wrote a curious Essay on Cold Bathing, among the benefits of which -he does not omit long life. - -Dr. Cheyne, the Scottish physician, of this period, in his well-known -Essay, advocates strict regimen for preventing and curing diseases: by -milk and vegetable diet he reduced himself from thirty-two stone weight -almost a third, recovered his strength, activity, and cheerfulness, and -attained the good age of 72. - -Jeremy Bentham, the eminent philosophical jurist and writer on -legislation, died in 1832, in Queen-square-place, Westminster, where he -had resided nearly half a century, in his 85th year. Up to extreme old -age he retained much of the intellectual power of the prime of manhood, -the simplicity and freshness of early youth; and even in the last -moments of his existence the serenity and cheerfulness of his mind did -not desert him. “He was capable,” says Dr. Southwood Smith, to whom he -bequeathed his body for purposes of anatomical science, in the lecture -delivered over his remains, “of great severity and continuity of mental -labour. For upwards of half a century he devoted seldom less than eight, -often ten, and occasionally twelve hours of every day to intense study. -This was the more remarkable as his physical constitution was by no -means strong. His health during the periods of childhood, youth, and -adolescence was infirm; it was not until the age of manhood that it -acquired some degree of vigour; but that vigour increased with advancing -age, so that during the space of sixty years he never laboured under any -serious malady, and rarely suffered even from slight indisposition; and -at the age of 84 he looked no older, and constitutionally was not older, -than most men are at 60; thus adding another illustrious name to the -splendid catalogue which establishes the fact, that severe and constant -mental labour is not incompatible with health and longevity, but -conducive to both, provided the mind be unanxious and the habits -temperate. - -“He was a great economist of time. He knew the value of minutes. The -disposal of his hours, both of labour and of repose, was a matter of -systematic arrangement; and the arrangement was determined on the -principle that it is a calamity to lose the smallest portion of time. He -did not deem it sufficient to provide against the loss of a day or an -hour; he took effectual means to prevent the occurrence of any such -calamity to him. But he did more: he was careful to provide against the -loss of even a single minute; and there is on record no example of a -human being who lived more habitually under the practical consciousness -that his days are numbered, and that ‘the night cometh in which no man -can work.’” - -It should, however, be added, that Mr. Bentham’s lot in life was a happy -one. Even though he did not enjoy a widely diffused reputation in his -own country, and his peculiar views exposed him to the attacks of -contemporary writers, his easy circumstances and excellent health -enabled him to devote his whole time and energies to those pursuits -which exercised his highest faculties, and were to him a rich and -unfailing source of the most delightful excitement. His retired habits -likewise preserved him from personal contact with any but those who -valued his acquaintance; and as for the writers who spoke of him with -ridicule and contempt, he never read them, and therefore they never -disturbed the serenity of his mind, or ruffled the tranquil surface of -his contemplative and happy life. - -It would be well for public writers if they possessed more of such -equanimity as Mr. Bentham’s, to shield them from the venom of adverse -criticism and the attacks of those dishonest critics who abuse every -indication of success which they conceive to stand in the way of their -own advancement. We have something of the old leaven of Grub-street in -our times, though the name is blotted out from our metropolitan -streetology. It is true that the patronage of great men is no longer -valued by men of letters,—it is but as dust in the balance against the -weight of public opinion,—but something of the old trade of factious -criticism which Swift, Pope, and Warburton so mercilessly exposed, has -survived even to our days. - -Mr. Thackeray, to our thinking one of the most masculine and unaffected -writers of his day, has well described the Grub-street association of -“author and rags—author and dirt—author and gin,” such as were the -literary hacks of the reign of George II.; but literature now takes its -rank with other learned professions. - - --------------------- -Footnote 58: - - Fontenelle attributed his longevity to a good course of strawberry - eating every season: his only ailment was fever in the spring; when he - used to say, “If I can only hold out till strawberries come in, I - shall get well.” His long life may, however, rather be attributed to - his insensibility, of which he himself boasted: he was rarely known to - laugh or cry. - -Footnote 59: - - Bishop Hough; _Comforts of Old Age_. - -Footnote 60: - - Ibid. - -Footnote 61: - - _Selections Gent. Mag._ vol. iv. p. 299. - -Footnote 62: - - See _Choice Notes_ (History), pp. 170-177; and Military Centenarians, - _Notes and Queries_, 2d series, No. 232, pp. 238, 239, for several - well-authenticated records. - -Footnote 63: - - _Morning Advertiser._ - -Footnote 64: - - _Notes and Queries_, 2d series, No. 250. - - ---------------------------- - - - Great Ages - -To return to Longevity. The following additional instances are mostly of -our own time: - - Among Lawyers, Francis Maseres, fifty years Cursitor-Baron of the - Court of Exchequer, died 1824, at the age of 93: he was a ripe - classical scholar, and one of the ablest mathematicians of his day. - The Eldon family present three noteworthy examples: Mr. Scott, the - Newcastle merchant, father of Lord Stowell and the Earl of Eldon, - died 1800, at the age of 92: the two eminent sons, Stowell, 1836, at - 91, and Eldon, 1838, at 87. Lord Plunket, the statesman and lawyer, - who died 1854, had reached 90. Lord Chancellor Campbell, who in his - busy law-life wrote many volumes of biography, attained the age of - 81. - - Sir William Blizard, the Surgeon, who died in 1835, in his 94th - year, rose to eminence under many disadvantages. With all his - activity and industry, except a fever caught by working night and - day in the dissecting-room, his health never failed him till the - last; he was temperate; and the only wine he drank was Cape. Sir - William Burnett, the physician and scientific inventor, reached 82. - - In 1862 two eminent Mathematicians died within a month of each - other: Jean Baptiste Biot, aged 88; and Peter Barlow, 86. Prof. - Narrien, of Sandhurst, died 1860, at 77; and, same year and age, - Finlaison, the actuary. - - Francis Place, the Westminster Politician, who died 1854, had - reached 82. The Duc de Pasquier, the celebrated French statesman, - attained the great age of 96: he died 1862, and was the oldest - statesman of our time. Talleyrand, next to Napoleon the most - extraordinary man of the revolutionary period of France, died 1838, - aged 84. - - The oldest Poets of our time were W. L. Bowles, 1850, aged 88; same - year, Wordsworth, poet-laureate, 80; James Montgomery, 1854, at 82; - Samuel Rogers, 1855, aged 96; Arndt, the German poet, 1860, at 91; - and Dr. Croly, the poet and divine, 86. - - Mitscherlich, the German Philologist, died 1854, at 94; same - year, Gresnall, biographer, 89, and Faber, theologian, 80. - Hamner-Purgstall, the Oriental historian, who died 1856, had - attained 87; 1857, Hincks, the Orientalist, 90. - - Sir John Stoddart, the Newspaper editor, who died 1855, had reached - 85,—a rare age for a public journalist. John Sharpe, the tasteful - _littérateur_, who died 1860, reached 83. - - Dr. Lingard, the Historian, died 1851, aged 82. In 1859, Hallam, the - historian; same year, Elphinstone, the historian of India, aged 81. - - John Britton, the Topographer and antiquary, who died 1857, had - reached 86: he was cheerful and chirping almost to the end. His - brother topographer, Brayley, died 1854, aged 85. John Adey Repton, - the architect and archæologist, died 1860, aged 86; Joseph Hunter, - archæologist, 1861, 78. - - Kirby, the Entomologist, who died 1860, had reached 91. Professor - Jameson, the naturalist, died 1854, aged 81. Brunel, the engineer of - the Thames Tunnel, died 1849, aged 81. Captain Manby, who invented - apparatus for saving shipwrecked persons, and who died 1854, had - reached 89. Sir John Ross, the Arctic navigator, died 1856, at 79. - The chemists, Andrew Ure, at 79, and Thenard, at 80, died 1857. - Baron Humboldt, who died 1859, reached 92; same year, Sir G. - Staunton, the Chinese scholar, at 79. Colonel Leake, the geographer, - 1860, at 83; and in the same year Carl Ritter, the geographer, 81; - and Bishop Rigaud, astronomer, 85. - - In 1858 died an unusually large number of Men of Science and - Letters, and Artists, at great ages. Count Radetzsky, at 92; - Creuzer, the German antiquary, 87; Thomas Tooke, political - economist, 85; three musical composers, Neukomm, 80; J. B. Cramer, - 88; and Horsley, 84;—Esenbach, botanist, 82; Aimé de Bonpland, 85; - Robert Brown, botanist, 84; Bunting, Wesleyan preacher, 80; Mrs. - Marcet, educational writer, 89; Edward Pease, “the Father of - Railways,” 92; Robert Owen, socialist, 87; Richard Taylor, of the - _Philosophical Magazine_, 77. - - In 1860 we lost the following eminent Engineers: Vicat (France), - aged 75; General Pasley, 80; Eaton Hodgkinson, 72; Sir Howard - Douglas, 86. In 1862 there died General Tulloch, at 72; and James - Walker, at 81; and in 1860, Jesse Hartley, 80. - - Charles Macklin, the oldest English Actor and playwright, who died - 1797, had reached the age of 107: for his last twenty years he never - took off his clothes, except to change them, or to be rubbed over - with warm brandy or gin; he ate, drank, and slept without regard to - set times, but according to his inclination. - - M. Delphat, the French Musician, who died 1855, had reached 99; and - in the same year died Robert Linley, the violoncellist, at 83. John - Braham lived far beyond the usual age of singers, namely, to his 82d - year: he died February 17, 1856; he first sung in public when ten - years old. Ludwig Spohr, the German composer, died 1859, at 80. - - Some aged persons have literally fallen asleep in death. Sir - Christopher Wren passed his latter years at Hampton Court, and his - townhouse in St. James’s-street. He caught cold, and this hastened - his death. He was in town; he was accustomed to sleep a short time - after dinner; and on February 25, 1723, his servant, thinking his - master had slept longer than usual, went into his room, and found - Wren dead in his chair; he was in his 91st year. James Elmes, who - wrote Wren’s life, died 1862, aged 80. - - Copley, the Painter, died 1815, aged 78; his son, Lord Lyndhurst, in - 1863, attained his 91st year: his mother lived to see her son a - second time Lord High Chancellor. Stothard, for several months - before his decease, though his bodily infirmities prevented his - attending to his labours as an artist, would not relinquish his - attendance at the meetings and lectures of the Royal Academy and in - the library, notwithstanding extreme deafness prevented his hearing - what was passing. Mr. Constable, in a letter to a friend, written in - 1838, says: “I passed an hour or two with Mr. Stothard on Sunday - evening. Poor man! the only elysium he has in this world he finds in - his own enchanting works. His daughter does all in her power to make - him happy and comfortable.” Leslie remarks that Stothard must have - possessed great constitutional serenity of mind; he was also, no - doubt, much supported by his art. His easel, indeed, bore evidence - of the many years he had passed before it; the lower bar, on which - his foot rested, being nearly worn through. He died April 27, 1834, - in his 80th year, at his house in Newman-street, where he had - resided more than forty years. - - Sir M. A. Shee, Painter, P.R.A., died 1850, at the age of 80. J. M. - W. Turner, the greatest landscape painter, R.A., 1851, at 77; and - 1854, Geo. Clint, painter of humour, 82; Wachter, the famous - historical painter, who died 1852, reached 90. Two aged Frenchmen - died 1853: Fontaine, the architect, 90; and Renouard, bibliographer, - 98. James Ward, the animal painter, who died 1859, reached 91; - Alfred Chalon, 1860, at 80; and in 1859, David Cox, founder of our - Water-Colour School, 76. - - In 1850 died Schadow, the Hungarian Sculptor, 86. In 1856, Sir R. - Westmacott, the sculptor, R.A.; and next year, Christian Rauch, the - German sculptor, at 80. - - Matthew Cotes Wyatt, the Sculptor of the colossal Wellington statue, - died 1862, at 86. The oldest engraver of the above period was John - Landseer, who died 1852, aged 90. - - Sir John Soane, R.A., the Architect, died 1837, having reached the - age of 84, bequeathing his museum, in Lincoln’s-inn Fields, to the - nation. Sir John was the son of a Berkshire bricklayer, and by his - own energy rose to eminence as an architect: he designed a greater - number of public edifices than any contemporary. His last work - (1833), the State-Paper Office, in St. James’s-park, was very unlike - any other of his designs; it was taken down in 1862. - - Foster, the Artist, of Derby, celebrated the hundredth anniversary - of his birthday on November 8, 1862, when he was entertained by his - friends in the county hall. Mr. Foster served under Abercrombie in - Egypt, and left the army on the day on which Nelson died. He has - been five times married; and his youngest child, born sixty-eight - years after his eldest, is now (1862) only ten years of age. - -The great ages in the following records must be considered very -remarkable: - - Mr. Henry H. Breen, writing from St. Lucia, states that Louis Mutal, - a Negro, died in the island in 1851, at the age of 135 years. Mutal - was a native of Macouba, in the island of Martinique, and about 1785 - settled in St. Lucia as a dealer in trade; after his death was found - among his papers his marriage contract with his slave, Marie - Catherine, in 1771, which establishes the fact of his being then 55 - years of age, and consequently of his having been born in 1716. This - is followed by a certificate, showing that the marriage contract was - published and recorded in 1772. The date of his death in the parish - register has been carefully verified by Mr. Breen, who adds: “There - are now living in this island several persons of the age of 90, or - upwards,” in a population of about 26,000 souls. The particulars - are: - - Madame Toraille, coloured aged 90 - Madame Morel, coloured ” 90 - Madame Jacob, coloured ” 92 - Madame St. Philip, white ” 92 - Madame Guy de Mareil, white ” 93 - Mademoiselle Vitalis, white ” 96 - Madame Anne, black ” 102 - Madame Coudrey, coloured ” 106 - Madame Baudoin, white ” 106 [65] - - Another Correspondent, writing from Malta in 1855, states that Tony - Proctor, a free coloured man, died at Tallahassee, Florida, June 16, - 1854, aged 112. He was at the battle of Quebec, as the servant of an - English officer, in 1759; and he was at the beginning of the - revolutionary war in the vicinity of Boston, at the time the tea was - thrown overboard; and was afterwards present at the battle of - Lexington.[66] - - --------------------- -Footnote 65: - - Communicated to _Notes and Queries_, August 4, 1855. - -Footnote 66: - - _Notes and Queries_, September 8, 1855. - - ---------------------------- - - - THE HAPPY OLD MAN. - -The wisest and best productions of the human intellect, says Dr. -Moore,[67] have proceeded from those who have lived through the bustling -morning and meridian periods of their day, and calmly sat down to think -and instruct others in the meditative evening of life. Even when the -brilliancy of reason’s sunset yields to the advancing gloom, there is an -indescribable beauty haunting the old man still, if in youth and vigour -his soul was conversant with truth; and even when the chill of night is -upon him, his eye seems to rest upon the glories for awhile departed; or -he looks off into the stars, and reads in them his destiny with a -gladness as quiet and as holy as their light. - -How instructive is the usual state of memory and hope in advanced life! -As the senses become dull, the nervous system slow, and the whole body -unfit for active uses, the old man necessarily falls into constant -abstraction. Like all debilitated persons, he feels his unfitness for -action, and, of course, becomes querulous if improperly excited. -Peacefulness, gentle exercise among flowers and trees, unstimulating -diet, and the quiet company of books and philosophic toys, are suitable -for him. With such helps his heart will beat kindly, and his intellect, -however childlike, will maintain a beautiful power to the last. Objects -of affection occasionally move him with more than their accustomed -force. Young children are especially agreeable to him. When approaching -him with the gentle love and reverence which unspoiled childhood is so -apt to exhibit, his heart seems suddenly to kindle as the little fingers -wander over his shrivelled hand and wrinkled brow. He smiles, and at -once goes back in spirit to his childhood, and finds a world of fun, -frolic, and liveliness before him; and he has tales of joy and beauty, -which children and age and holy beings can best appreciate. Next to the -children of his children, the old man, whose thoughts have been directed -by the Bible, loves the society of persons of holy habits; and as he -finds these more frequently among females, such are generally his -associates. But all aged and infirm persons he deems fit company, -because they, like himself, are busied in reviewing past impressions, -rather than planning or plotting for a livelihood, or reasoning about -ways and means. The past is his own, and he cons it over like a puzzling -but at least an interesting lesson. If his soul have been trained to -delight in truth, his will becomes weaned from this world of effort in -proportion as he feels the weakness that disqualifies him from -struggling on in it. Yet _in our ashes live their wonted fires:_ he -feels an internal, a spiritual energy, awakening in a new manner the -sympathies that belong to his being, and he feels as if his affections -had been laid by to ripen into an intensity out of keeping with the -usages and objects about him. He realises most fully the facts of a -coming life, and even now lives apart from the present; and if his -habits of reflection be not distracted, and his heart broken by hard and -ignorant treatment, and if his soul have not been wedded to care by a -love of gold without the possibility of divorce, and mammon have not -branded his spirit with indelible misery, then is the old man ready to -enter on a purely spiritual existence with alacrity and joy. - - --------------------- -Footnote 67: - - _The Use of the Body to the Mind._ - - ---------------------------- - - - PREPARATORY TO DEATH. - -Jeremy Taylor, in his _Holy Dying_ (General Considerations Preparatory -to Death), has this memorable passage, in which he illustrates the daily -experiences of every thoughtful mind: - - And because this consideration is of great usefulness and of great - necessity to many purposes of wisdom and the spirit, all the - succession of time, all the changes in nature, all the varieties of - light and darkness, the thousand thousands of accidents in the - world, and every contingency to every man and to every creature, - doth preach our funeral sermon, and calls us to look and see how the - old sexton Time throws up the earth and digs a grave where we must - lay our sins or our sorrows, and sow our bodies till they rise again - in a fair or in an intolerable eternity. Every revolution which the - sun makes about the world divides between life and death; and death - possesses both those portions by the next morrow, and we are dead to - all those months which we have already lived, and we shall never - live them over again: and still God makes little periods of our age. - First we change our world, when we come from the womb to feel the - warmth of the sun. Then we sleep and enter into the image of death, - in which state we are unconcerned in all the changes of the world - [who hath not felt this when stretched upon his bed at the close of - day?]: and if our mothers or our nurses die, or a wild boar destroy - our vineyards, or our king be sick, we regard it not, but during - that state are as disinterested as if our eyes were closed with the - clay that weeps in the bowels of the earth. At the end of seven - years our teeth fall and die before us, representing a formal - prologue to the tragedy; and still every seven years it is odds but - we shall finish the last scene: and when nature, or chance, or vice, - takes our bodies in pieces, weakening some parts and loosing others, - we _taste the grave_ and the solemnities of our own funerals, first - in those parts that ministered to vice, and next in them that served - for ornament; and in a short time even they that served for - necessity become useless, and entangled like the wheels of a broken - clock. _Baldness_ is but a dressing to our funerals, the proper - ornament of mourning, and of a person entered very far into the - regions and possession of death: and we have many more of the same - signification: gray hairs, rotten teeth, dim eyes, trembling joints, - short breath, stiff limbs, wrinkled skin, short memory, decayed - appetite. Every day’s necessity calls for a reparation of that - portion which death fed on all night when we lay in his lap and - slept in his outer chambers. The very spirits of a man prey upon the - daily portion of bread and flesh, and every meal is a rescue from - one death, and lays up for another: and while we think a thought we - die; and the clock strikes, and reckons on our portion of eternity; - we form our words with the breath of our nostrils, we have the less - to live upon for every word we speak. - - Thus nature calls us to meditate of death by those things which are - the instruments of acting it: and God by all the variety of his - Providence makes us see death every where, in all variety of - circumstances, and dressed up for all the fancies and the - expectation of every single person. - - Nature hath given us one harvest every year, but death hath two: and - the spring and the autumn sends throngs of men and women to - charnel-houses; and all the summer long men are recovering from - their evils of the spring, till the dog-days come, and then the - Syrian star makes the summer deadly; and the fruits of autumn are - laid up for all the year’s provision, and the man that gathers them - eats and surfeits, and dies and needs them not, and himself is laid - up for eternity; and he that escapes till the winter only stays for - another opportunity, which the distempers of that quarter minister - to him with great variety. Thus death reigns in all the portions of - our time. The autumn with its fruits provides disorders for us, and - the winter’s cold turns them into sharp diseases, and the spring - brings flowers to strew our hearse, and the summer gives green turf - and brambles to bind upon our graves. Calentures and surfeit, cold - and agues, are the four quarters of the year, and all minister to - death; and you can go no whither but you tread upon a dead man’s - bones. - - - DEATH BEFORE ADAM. - -Two hundred years ago, long before the science of Geology called for the -belief that mortality had been stamped on creation, and had manifested -its proofs in the animal races previously to Adam’s appearance, Jeremy -Taylor could write as follows regarding Adam himself before the Fall. He -considers him to have been created mortal; not merely liable to become -mortal, but actually mortal. - -“For ‘flesh and blood,’ that is, whatsoever is born of Adam, ‘cannot -inherit the kingdom of God.’ And they are injurious to Christ who think -that from Adam we might have inherited immortality. Christ was the giver -and preacher of it; ‘he brought life and immortality to light through -the Gospel.’” - -Again: “For that Adam was made mortal in his nature is infinitely -certain, and proved by his very eating and drinking, his sleep and -recreation, &c.” - -And in another passage, quoted by Professor Hitchcock: “That death which -God threatened to Adam, and which passed upon his posterity, is not the -going out of this world, but the manner of going. If he had stayed in -innocence, he should have gone placidly and fairly, without vexatious -and affective circumstances; he should not have died by sickness, -defect, misfortune, or unwillingness.” These sentiments Archdeacon -Pratt[68] quotes, not as necessarily approving them, but to show that so -good and learned a man as Jeremy Taylor had a view regarding death and -mortality no less unusual than that which Geology demands. - - --------------------- -Footnote 68: - - _Science and Scripture not at Variance_, 2d ed. 1858. - - ---------------------------- - - - FUTURE EARTHLY EXISTENCE OF THE HUMAN RACE. - -Regarding Man, independently of any revealed knowledge of his future -destiny, but simply with reference to his relations with the physical -world about him, Mr. Hopkins, the able geologist, asks: “Do we see in -his character and position here any indication that this earth is his -destined abiding place for indefinite periods of time? We conceive that -a negative answer to the question is suggested at least by the fact that -the extent of the earth’s surface and its powers of production are -_finite_, whereas the tendency in human population to increase is -unlimited. It is undoubtedly easy to conceive this tendency to be -arrested, but not probably by causes consistent with the moral and -physical well-being of the race. Whether human population may have -increased or not during the last two thousand years, is a matter of -little import, we conceive, to the question before us. We know that it -is now spreading itself over many parts of the globe, under influences -far different from those under which it has heretofore extended,—the -influence of Christianity, and of that higher civilisation which must -attend the pure doctrines of our religion. We believe that this -extension and increase of the civilised races of mankind will continue; -and, however it may be temporarily checked by the hardships and evils to -which man is subject, we can hardly understand how this tendency can be -effectively and finally arrested before the population of the globe -shall have approximated to that limit which must be necessarily imposed -upon it by the finite dimensions of man’s dwelling-place. We know not -what might be the views of political economists on this ultimate -condition of human population; but we feel it difficult to conceive its -existence, under merely human influences, independently of physical -want, and possibly of that moral debasement which so frequently attends -it. In fact, those who regard man simply in his human character and in -his relations to _nature_, and not in his relations to God, must find in -his earthly future the most insoluble problem which can offer itself to -the speculative philosopher. It would seem equally difficult to assign -to the human race an indefinite term of existence, or to sweep it away -by natural causes from the face of the earth. But it is in such -questions as this that a steady faith in man’s Creator and Redeemer -affords to the embarrassed mind a calm and welcome resting-place. Those -who believe man’s introduction on the earth to have been a direct act of -his Almighty Creator, will not think it necessary to look for his final -earthly destiny in the operation of merely secondary causes, but will -refer it to the same Divine Agency as that to which he refers the origin -of the race.”[69] - - --------------------- -Footnote 69: - - _Geology_, by William Hopkins, M.A., F.R.S.; _Cambridge Essays_, 1857. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - The School of Life. - - - WHAT IS EDUCATION? - -BISHOP BURNET seems to have given the reply in the fewest words when he -observes: “The education of youth is the foundation of all that can be -performed for bettering the next age.” - -“Education,” says Paley, “in the most extensive sense of the word, may -comprehend every preparation that is madef in our youth for the sequel -of our lives; and in this sense I use it. Some such preparation is -necessary for all conditions, because without it they must be miserable, -and probably will be vicious, when they grow up, either from the want of -the means of subsistence, or from want of rational and inoffensive -occupation. In civilised life, every thing is affected by art and skill. -Whence a person who is provided with neither (and neither can be -acquired without exercise and instruction) will be useless, and he that -is useless will generally be at the same time mischievous, to the -community. So that to send an uneducated child into the world is -injurious to the rest of mankind; it is little better than to turn out a -mad dog or a wild-beast into the streets.” - -Who are the uneducated? is a question not easily to be answered in a -time when books have come to be household furniture in every habitation -of the civilised world. All that men have contrived, discovered, done, -felt, or imagined, is recorded in books; wherein whoso has learned to -spell printed letters may find such knowledge, and turn it to -advantageous account. - -D’Israeli the younger, in one of his politico-economic speeches, -remarks: “As civilisation has gradually progressed, it has equalised the -physical qualities of man. Instead of the strong arm, it is now the -strong head that is the moving principle of society. You have -disenthroned Force, and placed on her high seat Intelligence; and the -necessary consequence of this great revolution is, that it has become -the duty and the delight equally of every citizen to cultivate his -faculties.” - - - TEACHING YOUNG CHILDREN. - -Coleridge relates that Thelwall thought it very unfair to influence a -child’s mind by inculcating any opinions before it should have come to -years of discretion, and be able to choose for itself. “I showed him my -garden,” says Coleridge, “and told him it was my botanical garden.” “How -so?” said he; “it is covered with weeds.” “Oh!” I replied, “that is only -because it has not yet come to its age of discretion and choice. The -weeds you see have taken the liberty to grow, and I thought it unfair in -me to prejudice the soil towards roses and strawberries.” - -Madame de Lambert, in her work _Sur l’Education d’une jeune Demoiselle_, -says: “The greatest enemy that we have to combat in the education of -children is self-love; and to this enemy we cannot give attention too -early. Our business is to weaken it, and we must be careful not to -strengthen it by indiscriminate praise. Frequent praise encourages -pride, induces a child to value herself as superior to her companions, -and renders her unable to bear any reproach or objection however mild. -We should be cautious, even in the expression of affection, not to lead -children to suppose that we are constantly occupied with them. Timid -children may be encouraged by praise; but it must be judiciously -bestowed, and for their good conduct, not for personal graces. Above all -things, it is necessary to inspire them with a love of truth; to teach -them to practise it at their own expense; and to impress it upon their -minds that there is nothing so truly great as the frank acknowledgment, -‘I am wrong.’” - -Harriet Martineau observes: “It is a matter of course that no mother -will allow any ignorant person to have access to her child who will -frighten it with goblin stories or threats of the old black man. She -might as well throw up her charge at once, and leave off thinking of -household education altogether, as permit her child to be exposed to -such maddening inhumanity as this. The instances are not few of idiotcy -or death from terror so caused.” - -Children should not be hedged-in with any great number of rules and -regulations. Such as are necessary to be established, they should be -required implicitly to observe. But there should be none that are -superfluous. It is only in rich families, where there is a plentiful -attendance of governors and nurses, that many rules can be enforced; and -it is believed that the constant attention of governors and nurses is -one of the greatest moral disadvantages to which the children of the -rich are exposed. - -Coleridge has well said: “The most graceful objects in nature are little -children—before they have learned to dance.” - -“Grace,” says Archbishop Whately, “is in a great measure a natural gift; -elegance implies cultivation, or something of more artificial character. -A rustic, uneducated girl may be graceful, but an elegant woman must be -accomplished and well trained. It is the same with things as with -persons; we talk of a graceful tree, but of an elegant house or other -building. Animals may be graceful, but they cannot be elegant. The -movements of a kitten or a young fawn are full of grace; but to call -them ‘elegant’ animals would be absurd. Lastly, ‘elegant’ may be applied -to mental qualifications, which ‘graceful’ never can. Elegance must -always imply something that is made or invented by man. An imitation of -nature is not so; therefore we do not speak of an ‘elegant picture,’ -though we do of an elegant pattern for a gown, an elegant piece of work. -The general rule is, that elegance is the characteristic of art, and -grace of nature.” - - - EDUCATION AT HOME. - -Education at Home has been thus aptly illustrated: History and Geography -should begin at home. If we want a boy to know some day the families of -the Herods and the Cæsars, let him start by learning who was his own -grandfather. The Church Catechism rightly commences by making the child -tell his own name; it would be in many cases almost puzzling, but in all -cases and senses a most proper question, to ask him, further, the names -of his godfathers and godmothers; and so carrying him gradually onward, -he would know, what seldom happens, the kings of England before he -attempts those of Israel and Judah. This principle holds as true of -places as of persons. The things that touch us nearest interest us most. -Geography should begin from the school-walls: “Which side of this room -does the sun rise on?” “Does Church-lane run west or north?” “Whither -does the brook flow that rises on Squash-hill?” In this way the young -scholar would in time be brought to comprehend the round world and his -own position on it, and probably with some clearer perception of the -truth and relation of things than if he had begun by rote: “The earth is -a terraqueous globe, depressed at the poles, consisting of,” &c. But we -are all taught on the contrary plan. We begin at the wrong end; for, in -the ladder of learning, _Ego_, not Adam, is the true No. 1. We start -from the equator instead of High-street, and the result is the -lamentable fact, that even educated men are strangers in their own -country, and thousands die within the sound of Bow-bells who have never -seen the inside of St. Paul’s. Topography, then, should precede -geography. Yet perhaps there is not a schoolroom in England where a -county map is to be found hung up on the wall. Frightened by the -remembrance of having been once the deluded subscriber to a -Topographical Dictionary, even students have a horror of the word; and -the subject is consigned, in expensive folios, to a few professed -antiquaries, or to some eccentric member of a county family, who emerges -every third or fourth generation to preserve a provincial dignity which -he would not willingly let die.[70] - - --------------------- -Footnote 70: - - _Quarterly Review._ - - ---------------------------- - - - TENDERNESS OF YOUTH. - -Leaving home the first time, for school, has been thus pathetically -described by Southey: “The pain which is felt when we are first -transplanted from our native soil, when the living branch is cut from -the parent tree, is one of the most poignant griefs which we have to -endure through life. There are after-griefs which wound more deeply, -which leave behind them scars never to be effaced, which bruise the -spirit, and sometimes break the heart: but never do we feel so keenly -the want of love, the necessity of being loved, and the utter sense of -desertion, as when we first leave the haven of home, and are, as it -were, pushed off upon the stream of life.” Nelson, when he was sent a -boy first to rough it out at sea, felt this loneliness most acutely: he -paced the deck most of the day without being noticed by any one; and it -was not till the second day that somebody, as he expresses it, “took -compassion on him.” Nelson had a feeble body and an affectionate heart, -and he remembered through life his first days of wretchedness in the -service. - -Humanity to animals has been thus eloquently enjoined upon children by -Dr. Parr: “He that can look with rapture upon the agonies of an -unoffending and unresisting animal, will soon learn to view the -sufferings of a fellow-creature with indifference: and in time he will -acquire the power of viewing them with triumph, if that fellow-creature -should become the victim of his resentment, be it just or unjust. But -the minds of children are open to impressions of every sort, and indeed -wonderful is the facility with which a judicious instructor may -habituate them to tender emotions. I have therefore always considered -mercy to beings of an inferior species as a virtue which children are -very capable of learning, but which is most difficult to be taught if -the heart has been once familiarised to spectacles of distress, and has -been permitted either to behold the pangs of any living creature with -cold insensibility, or to inflict them with wanton barbarity.” - - - BUSINESS OF EDUCATION. - -Among the many recommendations which will always attach to a public -system of education, the value of early emulation, the force of example, -the abandonment of sulky and selfish habits, and the acquirement of -generous, manly dispositions, are not to be overlooked. To begin at the -beginning is the only royal road to learning; and this is only to be -reached by attention to elementary truths. Yet this is difficult, even -for cultivated men. “In reality,” says Dr. Temple, “elementary truths -are the hardest of all to learn, unless we pass our childhood in an -atmosphere thoroughly impregnated with them; and then we imbibe them -unconsciously, and find it difficult to perceive their difficulty.”[71] -Yet how few children have this advantage: so many false impressions are -received in childhood, that the first business of education proper is to -_unlearn_. - -The superior influence of example over precept is thus eloquently -illustrated by Carlyle: “Is not love, from of old, known to be the -beginning of all things? And what is admiration of the great but love of -the truly lovable? The first product of love is imitation, that -all-important peculiar gift of man, whereby mankind is not only held -socially together in the present time, but connected in like union with -the past and future; so that the attainment of the innumerable departed -can be conveyed down to the living, and transmitted with increase to the -unborn. Now, great men, in particular spiritually great men (for all men -have a spirit to guide, though all have not kingdoms to govern and -battles to fight), are the men universally imitated and learned of, the -glass in which whole generations survey and shape themselves.” - -Lord Jeffrey has remarked upon the necessity of early restraint, that - - Young people who have been habitually gratified in all their desires - will not only more indulge in capricious desires, but will - infallibly take it more amiss when the feelings or happiness of - others require that they should be thwarted, than those who have - been practically trained to the habit of subduing and restraining - them; and consequently will in general sacrifice the happiness of - others to their own selfish indulgence. To what else is the - selfishness of princes and other great people to be attributed? It - is in vain to think of cultivating principles of generosity and - beneficence by mere exhortation and reasoning. Nothing but the - _practical habit_ of overcoming our own selfishness, and of - familiarly encountering privations and discomfort on account of - others, will ever enable us to do it when required. And therefore I - am firmly persuaded that indulgence infallibly produces selfishness - and hardness of heart, and that nothing but a pretty severe - discipline and control can lay the foundation of a magnanimous - character. - - --------------------- -Footnote 71: - - _Education of the World._ - - ---------------------------- - - - THE CLASSICS. - -Especially was Dr. Arnold an orthodox Oxonian in his belief of the -indispensable usefulness of Classical Learning, not only as an important -branch of knowledge, but as the substantial basis of education itself, -the importance of which he thus forcibly illustrates: “The study of -Greek and Latin, considered as mere languages, is of importance mainly -as it enables us to understand and employ well that language in which we -commonly think and speak and write. It does this because Greek and Latin -are specimens of language at once highly perfect and incapable of being -understood without long and minute attention: the study of them, -therefore, naturally involves that of the general principles of grammar; -while their peculiar excellences illustrate the points which render -language clear and forcible and beautiful. But our _application_ of this -general knowledge must naturally be to our own language: to show us what -are its peculiarities, what its beauties, what its defects; to teach us, -by the patterns or the analogies offered by other languages, how the -effect we admire in them may be produced with a somewhat different -instrument. Every lesson in Greek or Latin may and ought to be made a -lesson in English; the translation of every sentence in Demosthenes or -Tacitus is properly an extemporaneous English composition; a problem, -how to express with equal brevity, clearness, and force, in our own -language, the thought which the original author has so admirably -expressed in his.” - -In other words, Dr. Arnold was the first English commentator who gave -life to the study of the Classics, by bringing the facts and manners -which they disclose to the test of real life. - -Mr. Buckle, siding with the anti-classicists, remarks that, “With the -single exception of Porson, not one of the great English scholars has -shown an appreciation of the beauties of his native language; and many -of them, such as Parr (in all his works) and Bentley (in his mad edition -of Milton) have done every thing in their power to corrupt it. And there -can be little doubt that the principal reason why well-educated women -write and converse in a purer style than well-educated men, is because -they have not formed their taste according to those ancient classical -standards, which, admirable as they are in themselves, should never be -introduced into a state of society unfitted for them. To this may be -added, that Cobbett, the most racy and idiomatic of all our writers, and -Erskine, by far the greatest of our forensic orators, knew little or -nothing of any ancient language; and the same observation applies to -Shakspeare.”[72] - -Our author has been just to Porson, to whom chiefly English scholarship -owes its accuracy and its certainty; and this as a branch of -education—as a substratum on which to rest other branches of knowledge -often infinitely more useful in themselves—really takes as high a rank -as any of those studies which can contribute to form the character of a -well-educated English gentleman. - - --------------------- -Footnote 72: - - _History of Civilisation in England._ - - ---------------------------- - - - LIBERAL EDUCATION. - -Dean Hook has written the following able defence of a Liberal Education, -as distinguished from the special training for a profession: - - A Liberal Education is to the present time the characteristic of - what is called a University Education. By a liberal education is - meant a non-professional education. By a non-professional education - is meant an education conducted without reference to the future - profession, or calling, or special pursuit for which the person - under education is designed. It is an education which is regarded - not merely as a means, but as something which is in itself an end. - The end proposed is not the formation of the divine, or the - physician, or the lawyer, or the statesman, or the soldier, or the - man of business, or the botanist, or the chemist, or the man of - science, or even the scholar; but simply of the thinker. - - It is admitted that the highest eminence can only be attained by the - concentration of the mind, with a piercing intensity and singleness - of view, upon one field of action. In order to excel, each mind must - have its specific end. A man may know many things well, but there is - only one thing upon which he will be preëminently learned, and - become an authority. The professional man may be compared to one - whose eye is fixed upon a microscope. The rest of the world is - abstracted from his field of vision, and the eye, though narrowed to - a scarcely perceptible hole, is able to see what is indiscernible by - others. When he observes accurately, he becomes, in his department, - a learned man; and when he reveals his observations, he is a - benefactor of his kind. All that the university system does is to - delay the professional education as long as possible; it would apply - to the training of the mind a discipline analogous to that which - common sense suggests in what relates to bodily exercise. A father, - ambitious for his son that he might win the prize at the Olympian - games or in the Pythian fields, devoted his first attention not to - the technicalities of the game, but to the general condition and - morals of the youth. The success of the athlete depended upon his - first becoming a healthy man. So the university system trains the - man, and defers the professional education as long as circumstances - will permit. It makes provision, before the eye is narrowed to the - microscope, that the eye itself shall be in a healthy condition; it - expands the mind before contracting it; it would educate mind as - such before bending it down to the professional point; it does not - regard the mind as an animal to be fattened for the market, by - cramming it with food before it has acquired the power of digestion, - but treats it rather as an instrument to be tuned, as a metal to be - refined, as a weapon to be sharpened. - - This is the system which the old universities of Europe have - inherited. - - Philology, logic, and mathematics are still the instruments employed - for the discipline of the mind, which is the end and object of a - Liberal Education.[73] - -The best education has been thus bodied forth: “Let a man’s pride be to -be a gentleman: furnish him with elegant and refined pleasures, imbue -him with the love of intellectual pursuits, and you have a better -security for his turning out a good citizen and a good Christian, than -if you have confined him by the strictest moral and religious -discipline, kept him in innocent and unsuspecting ignorance of all the -vices of youth, and in the mechanical and orderly routine of the -severest system of education.”[74] - - --------------------- -Footnote 73: - - _Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury._ - -Footnote 74: - - _Quarterly Review_, No. 103. - - ---------------------------- - - - DR. ARNOLD’S SCHOOL REFORM. - -Dr. Arnold, from his entering upon the head-mastership of Rugby, threw -himself into the great work of school reform, based upon the -associations of his boyhood, and the convictions of his more mature -experience. “To do his duty was the height of his ambition,—those truly -English sentiments by which Nelson and Wellington were inspired; and, -like them, he was crowned with victory; for soon were verified the -predictions of the Provost of Oriel, that _he would change the face of -education through the public schools of England_. He was minded, -_virtute officii_, to combine the care of souls with that of the -intellects of the rising generation, and to realise the Scripture in -principle and practice, without making an English school a college of -Jesuits. His principles were few: the fear of God was the beginning of -his wisdom; and his object was not so much to teach knowledge, as the -means of acquiring it; to furnish, in a word, the key to the temple. He -desired to awaken the intellect of each individual boy, and contended -that the main movement must come from within and not from without the -pupil; and that all that could be, should be _done by_ him and not _for_ -him. In a word, his scheme was to call forth in the little world of -school those capabilities which best befitted the boy for his career in -the great one.”[75] - - --------------------- -Footnote 75: - - _Quarterly Review_, No. 204. In the latter sentence is conveyed the - advantage which education in a large school has over education at - home. - - ---------------------------- - - - SCHOOL INDULGENCE. - -Nothing is more prejudicial to after-success in life than indulgence to -youth when at school. Sir James Mackintosh felt and acknowledged this -error. He tells us that when he left school he could only imperfectly -construe a small part of Virgil, Horace, and Sallust: he adds, “Whatever -I have done beyond, has been since added by my own irregular reading. -But no subsequent circumstance could make up for that invaluable habit -of vigorous and methodical industry which the indulgence and -irregularity of my school-life prevented me from acquiring, and of which -I have painfully felt the want in every part of my life.” - -Another mistake is a profuse allowance of Pocket-money at School: we -once heard an old Westminster declare that to his unlimited supply of -money when at the college he attributed over-indulgence in luxuries -which had injured his health, and often rendered him the dupe of mean -and designing persons—full-grown parasites—mischievous as the plants of -that name, which bear down the trees they attack, and rob them of the -food intended for their own leaves and fruit. - - - UNSOUND TEACHING. - -The general unsoundness of what is termed an English education is, to a -great extent, accounted for by the little attention paid in the -Universities, Colleges, and Schools to teaching our native language, and -especially to the proper teaching of English in schools for the people. -The results of this neglect of the mother-tongue are multitudinous. “The -mass of our population, in spite of all that has been done, must be -considered densely ignorant. Millions never open a book. Nearly fifteen -millions never enter church or chapel. Other causes may operate, but the -want of a knowledge of language is a potent one. People whose vocabulary -is limited to about three hundred words cannot follow a sermon, and -clergymen who have never been taught the value of plain Saxon English -cannot preach one. Then, amongst the middle and upper classes, how -superficial is the knowledge of English. How few can write a common -letter without faults in grammar, choice of words, or spelling. -Punctuation is absolutely ignored by many. What are the speeches at -public meetings, or rather, how would they appear in print but for the -talent of the reporters, who bring order out of chaos? The results of -the Civil-Service Examinations abundantly prove the justice of these -strictures; and the fruits of University training, or rather -non-training, are too patent to require illustration. Our clergy often -carry into the prayer-desk and pulpit all the defects of early life,—the -provincial accent, the sing-song tone, the nasal twang, the lisp, or -burr, or stammer; indistinct utterance, inaudible reading and -vociferation, wrong emphasis, undue stress on enclitics, and many other -faults. Good sermons are the exception rather than the rule; for if -sound in doctrine and full of zeal, the style is often obscure or -pedantic or inflated, and the delivery monotonous and soporific. In the -Senate, though most of the Members are University men, there are but few -really effective speakers. Were our senators trained to speak well—that -is, to the point—much time would be saved, and public business -despatched more rapidly.” - -The remedies suggested by the Rev. Dr. D’Orsey are: - - 1. Training-schools for nursery governesses, who, without knowing or - pretending to know French and Italian, should speak English without - vulgarisms. 2. Greater attention in our present training colleges - for schoolmasters to due instruction in English, especially in - correct and fluent speaking. 3. More encouragement to men of talent - and education to become and to remain schoolmasters, by holding out - the prospect of honourable offices to distinguished teachers. Why - should Inspectorships of Schools be always given to clergymen and - barristers, to the exclusion of the schoolmaster? 4. The appointment - of a thoroughly accomplished scholar as English Master in every - great public school, of equal rank with the other masters. 5. The - endowment of at least one Professorship in every University. 6. The - recognition of English as a subject in every examination not - strictly scientific, and rewarding distinction in composition or - oratory in the same substantial manner as eminence in classics or - mathematics. - -Sir John Coleridge relates the following inefficient examples of -school-teaching which have come under his observation: “An Examiner was -about, and he had a class before him—the first class in arithmetic. They -were able to answer questions; they had gone through all the higher -branches of arithmetic, and were prepared to answer any thing. But he -said, ‘I will give you a sum in simple addition.’ He accordingly -dictated a sum, and cautiously interspersed a good many ciphers. -Suppose, for instance, he said, ‘a thousand and forty-nine.’ He found -there was not one in the class who was able to put down that sum in -simple addition; they could not make count of the ciphers. That showed -him the boys had been suffered to pass over far too quickly the -elementary parts of arithmetic. The examiner took them in grammar, and -quoted a few lines from Cowper— - - I am monarch of all I survey, - My right there is none to dispute. - -‘What governs right?’ There was not a boy could say, till it was put to -them, ‘none to dispute my right.’ - -“Let me impress upon you that the best motto you can take for yourselves -in this respect is that which was taken by a most eminent man who made -his way from a hair-dresser’s shop to be Chief Justice Tenterden. What -was his motto? When a man is made a judge, he is made a serjeant; and as -serjeant he gives rings to some of the great officers of State, with a -motto upon each. His motto was ‘Labore.’ He did not refer to his own -talents. It was not ‘Invita Minerva.’ To his immortal honour be it -said—from the hair-dresser’s shop in Canterbury to the Free School in -Canterbury; from the Free School in Canterbury to Corpus Christi -College; from Corpus Christi College to the bar; from the bar to the -bench; from the bench to the peerage—he achieved all with unimpeachable -honour, and always practising that which was his motto at last. One of -the most gratifying scenes I have ever witnessed was when that man went -up to the House of Peers in his robes for the first time, attended by -the whole bar of England.” - - - SELF-FORMATION. - -The one great object—the finality—of rational Education is -Self-instruction. In mind as well as body we are children at first, only -that we may afterwards become men; dependent upon others, in order that -we may learn from them such lessons as may tend eventually to our -edification on an independent basis of our own. The knowledge of facts, -or what is generally called learning, however much we may possess of it, -is useful so far only as we erect its materials into a mental framework; -but useless, utterly, as long as we suffer it to lie in a heap, inert -and without form. The instruction of others, compared with -self-instruction, is like the law compared with faith; a discipline of -preparation, beggarly elements, a schoolmaster to lead us on to a state -of greater worthiness, and there give up the charge of us. - -“Every man,” says Gibbon, “who rises above the common level, receives -two educations—the first from his instructors; the second, the most -personal and important, from himself.” Almost all Lord Eldon’s legal -education was from himself, without even the ordinary helps, which he -disdainfully flung from him; and of no one could it be more truly -predicated, that he was not “rocked and dandled” into a lawyer. - -The Rev. Sydney Smith has thus sketched a scheme, in which he deems it -of the highest importance that the education of a British youth were -directed to the true principles of legislation: what effect laws can -produce upon opinions, and opinions upon laws; what subjects are fit for -legislative interference, and when men may be left to the management of -their own interests. The mischief occasioned by bad laws, and the -perplexity which arises from a multiplicity of laws; the causes of -national wealth; the relations of foreign trade; the encouragement of -agricultures and manufactures; the fictitious wealth occasioned by -paper-credit; the use and abuse of monopoly; the theory of taxation; the -consequences of the public debt: these are some of the subjects and some -of the branches of civil education, to which we would turn the minds of -future judges, future senators, and future noblemen. After the first -period of life had been given up to the cultivation of the classics, and -the remaining powers were beginning to evolve themselves, these are some -of the propensities in study which we would endeavour to inspire. - - - PRACTICAL DISCIPLINE. - -The want of Practical Discipline has been thus put by a writer in -_Blackwood’s Magazine_: “What is the use of battering a man’s brains -full of Greek and Latin pothooks, that he forgets before he doffs his -last round-jacket or puts on his first long-tailed blue, if ye don’t -teach him the old Spartan virtue of obedience, hard living, early -rising, and them sort of classics? Where’s the use of instructing him in -hexameters or pentameters, if you would leave him in ignorance of the -value of a pennypiece? What height of stupidity it is to be fillin’ a -boy’s brains with the wisdom of the ancients, and then turn him out like -an _omadhaum_, to pick up his victuals among the moderns!” - -With equal truth, but finer humour, has Sydney Smith, at his own -expense, exposed this neglect of the practical as a fair indication of -the mode of English education. He is writing to his publisher, whom he -tells: “I have twice endeavoured to write the word _skipping_—‘_skipping -spirit_.’ Your printer first printed it ’stripling,’ and then altered it -into _stripping_. The fault is entirely mine. I was fifteen years at -school and college—I know something about the Romans and the Athenians, -and have read a good deal about the præter-perfect tense—but I cannot do -a sum in simple addition, or _write a handwriting which any body can -read_.” - - - “CRAMMING.” - -Cramming, which in our time was a cant term in the Universities for the -art of preparing a student to pass an examination by furnishing him -beforehand with the requisite answers, has travelled far beyond the -tether of Oxford or Cambridge. Its abuse is well described by Watts: “As -a man may be eating all day, and for want of digestion is never -nourished, so these endless readers may cram themselves in vain with -intellectual food.” It reminds one also of the Baconian saw—of those who -can pack the cards, yet know not how to play them. - -A president Examiner of articled clerks at the Law Institution has -observed upon this forcing system: - - I for one, and I am glad of the opportunity of expressing it, abhor - all Cramming; and I hold very cheaply the system of Competitive - Examination, which is nowadays begun almost in the nursery, and - thought so highly of in some quarters as a test. It is not to be - expected, without inverting the natural order of things, that a - youth of twenty or twenty-one should have exhausted those stores of - learning which Coke speaks of as requiring not less than the - _lucubrationes viginti annorum_; and remember that those twenty - years would begin at that period of life on which most of you are - now but entering. In this view the papers before you have been - prepared, and our aim as examiners has been to set such questions as - will prove you to possess the elements of a liberal education; and - that you have so far acquired the principles of common law, equity, - conveyancing, criminal law, and bankruptcy, that you are entitled to - enter upon the practice of your profession, leaving its complete - mastery to that experience which time alone can supply. I need not - remind you of the men who, beginning as attorneys, have attained to - high positions in the State. The portrait of Lord Chancellor Truro - hangs before you on these walls. I had the privilege of knowing him - personally; his example may well stimulate your ambition, and - animate your exertions, for never man won high place with more - unremitting labour than he did; not, however, at the expense of his - childhood or of his youth, not by the sacrifice of all else for mere - mental culture, but by the full-grown energies, by the well-directed - vigour and power of the man, for he was between thirty and forty - years of age before he was called to the bar. - - - MATHEMATICS. - -Mathematics drew from Edmund Gurney the odd definition, that “a -mathematician is like one that goes to market to buy an axe to break an -egg.” - -Bacon complains that men do not sufficiently understand the excellent -use of the Pure Mathematics, in that they do remedy and cure many -defects in the wit and faculties intellectual. For if the wit be too -dull, they sharpen it; if too wandering, they fix it; if too inherent in -the sense, they abstract it. So that as tennis is a game of no use in -itself, but of great use in respect it maketh a quick eye, and a body -ready to put itself into any postures; so in the mathematics, that use -which is collateral and intervenient is no less worthy than that which -is principal and intended. And as for the Mixed Mathematics, I only make -this prediction, that there cannot fail to be more kinds of them, as -nature grows further disclosed;” thus foretelling the advance of Natural -Philosophy. - -However, the understanding of Applied Mathematics is not unattainable -under ordinary circumstances. Lord Rosse has observed that, without any -special mathematical knowledge, a well-informed man may often, in the -results announced, and from the observations elicited, obtain very -interesting glimpses of the nature of mathematical processes, and some -general idea as to the progress making in that direction. In applied -mathematics there is much more of general interest, and the results are -often perfectly intelligible without special education. In proof of this -Lord Rosse adduces, that “at the meeting of the British Association at -Oxford, the general results of a very abstruse investigation in applied -mathematics in physical astronomy were made very interesting. The -subject was so brought forward as to rivet the attention of the whole -section, and there were many ladies present. The paper was given in by -M. Leverrier, and the subject was the identification of a comet. How -wonderful from its origin has been the progress of mathematical science! -Beginning perhaps three thousand years ago almost from nothing—one -simple relation of magnitude suggesting another, and those relations -gradually becoming more complicated, more interesting, I may add more -important, till at length in our day it has expanded into a science -which enables us to _weigh the planets_, and, more wonderful still, to -calculate the course they will take when acted continually upon by -forces varying in magnitude and direction.” - -We trace in Porson’s habits of thought the influence which the study of -mathematics had upon him.[76] He was to his dying day fond of these -studies. There are still preserved many papers of his scribbled over -with mathematical calculations; and when the fit seized him in the -street which caused his death, an equation was found in his pocket. - - --------------------- -Footnote 76: - - In enabling him to give to English scholarship its accuracy and - certainty,—as a substratum on which to rest other branches of - knowledge often more useful in themselves. See Mr. Luard’s able - _Cambridge Essay_. - - ---------------------------- - - - ARISTOTLE. - -Aristotle’s Philosophy, from its being upheld by the Roman Catholic -theology, was lowered in a corresponding degree by the Reformation. -Hence it fell into undeserved neglect during the latter part of the -seventeenth and the whole of the eighteenth century. Of late years, -however, the true worth of his writings has been more fully appreciated, -and the study of his best treatises has been much revived. Dr. Holland -remarks: “The whole of Aristotle’s writings on Sleep, and other -collateral topics, deserve much more frequent perusal than is given to -them in the present day.” The geological theory of Lyell, viz. that the -causes which produce geological phenomena are in constant and gradual -operation, is the theory of Aristotle and John Ray brought down to our -present state of knowledge. - -It has been well said that Solomon, Aristotle, and Bacon are the only -three men, since our race appeared on earth, who would have been -justified in saying that “they took all knowledge for their province.” - - - GEOLOGY IN EDUCATION. - -The genius of Werner, of De Saussure, and of Cuvier, laid the -foundations on which Geology now rests. They gave us the first glimpse -of the fauna and flora of the earlier ages of our planet. Professor -Jameson soon saw that these investigations would also lead to much -curious information in regard to the former physical and geographical -distribution of plants and animals; and to the changes which the -animated world in general, and particular genera and species, have -undergone, and probably are still undergoing; and he would naturally be -led to speculate on the changes that must have taken place in the -climate of the globe during these various changes and revolutions. The -writings of Blumenbach, Von Hoff, Cuvier, Brongniart, Steffens, and -other naturalists, are proofs of what has been done by following up the -views of Werner. Ami Boué, speaking of the services Professor Jameson -has rendered to science, says: “He has spread valuable working pupils -all over the world, and he was the electric spark which originated the -beginning of true geology in Great Britain.” - - It is not much more than seventy years since Bishop Watson, a man of - no mean abilities and of no slight distinction, turned the science - of geology into open ridicule. He said that the geologists who - attempted to speculate on the internal formation of the globe - reminded him only of a gnat which might be perched upon the - shoulders of an elephant, and might, by the reach of its tiny - puncture, affect to tell him what was the whole internal structure - of the majestic animal below.[77] Listen now to the language of an - eminent man of the present day, Sir David Brewster, on the same - great subject: “How interesting must it be to study such - phenomena—to escape for a while from the works of man—to go back to - primeval times, and learn how its Maker moulded the earth—how He - wore down the primitive mass into the strata of its present - surface—how He deposited the precious metals in its bowels—how He - filled it with races of living animals, and again buried them in its - depths, to chronicle the steps of creative power—how He covered its - surface with its fruit-bearing soil, and spread out the waters of - the deep as the great highway of nations, to unite into one - brotherhood the different races of his creatures, and to bless them - by the interchange of their produce and their affections!” And - again, referring to the discoveries of the great Cuvier in connexion - with geology, he says: “In thus deciphering the handwriting of - nature on her tablets of stone, the same distinguished naturalist - discovered that all organised beings were not created at the same - period. In the commissariat of Providence the stores were provided - before the arrival of the host that was to devour them. Plants were - created before animals, the molluscous fishes next appeared, then - the reptiles, and last of all the mammiferous quadrupeds completed - the scale of animal life.” Such are the terms in which able men now - refer to geological science.[78] - -Fortunately, the science of Geology is an eminently popular one. The -arguments which go to establish its leading doctrines require no long -course of previous study to make them intelligible, and its professors, -in this country at least, have been no way disposed to confine their -teaching to the sanctuaries of learning. Wherever an audience can be -gathered together, some eminent geologist is always ready to discourse -for the benefit of the gentiles of science, who have rewarded their -instructors by a larger share of popularity than is generally bestowed -on the professors of other branches of physical knowledge. The -consequence is, that a smattering of Geology is now very generally -diffused amongst the upper and middle classes in this country—an -excellent thing in itself, since even a smattering of natural science -helps to enlarge and elevate the mind, but sometimes inconvenient, -because few learn enough to get a correct idea of the extent of their -own ignorance as compared with the smallness of their knowledge. In the -interest of science, the main point to be gained is that, out of the -large number who approach the threshold, a sufficient number should be -induced to enter into her service, and that each of these should find -work fit for his strength and his special faculties. Measured in this -way, the progress of Geology seems to be sufficiently satisfactory.[79] - - --------------------- -Footnote 77: - - Mr. Watson, among other qualities, which certainly contributed to his - advancement in life, possessed a happy confidence in himself, and an - opinion of his own fitness for any situation to which he should think - proper to aspire, though totally destitute at the time of every - qualification requisite to the discharge of its functions. On the 19th - of November 1764, he informs us, “I was unanimously elected by the - Senate, assembled in full congregation, Professor of Chemistry. At the - time this honour was conferred upon me _I knew nothing at all of - chemistry_; had never read a syllable on the subject, nor seen a - single experiment in it.”—_Quarterly Review_, vol. xviii. p. 233. - -Footnote 78: - - Sir John Pakington, M.P. - -Footnote 79: - - _Saturday Review._ - - ---------------------------- - - - THE BEST EDUCATION. - -Philip de Mornay enjoins: “The best thing to be instilled into the minds -of children, is to fear God. This is the beginning, the middle, and the -end, of wisdom. Next, they ought to be induced to be kind one to -another. Great care ought to be taken to guard against speaking on -improper subjects in their presence, since lasting impressions are made -at a very early age; on the contrary, our conversation ought to be on -good and instructive topics. Imperceptibly to themselves or others, they -derive great benefit from such discourse; for it is quite certain that -children take the tinge either of good or evil, without the process -being discovered.” - -True excellence is only to be arrived at by the true Education; for in -Education, as in all the rest of life, there are two ways of acting. -“The one way, when the learner looks upon his powers as his own, and -works them in a self-confident, hard spirit; which is by far the -quickest way to temporary success. The other, when the learner, looking -upon all his powers as given to him, works humbly in a tentative spirit, -distrusting self, keeping the heart open to improvement, thinking that -every body and every thing can teach him something; putting himself, in -fact, in God’s hand, as a learner, not as a judge. To such a spirit -belongs the promise that he shall be led into all truth. Directly we -imagine we know a thing, we close our stores, and shut the gates against -fresh treasures; but whilst laying up truth, still think that all is -incomplete, still humbly think, however broad and firm and deep the -foundation we have laid may be, that eternity shall not suffice for the -superstructure; in fact, still hold the vessel to be filled, and God -will ever fill it; still use that fulness in His service, and at the -right time the right thing shall come. Nothing but pride shuts out -knowledge. Who is not conscious, taking only the merest intellectual -work, how little really depends on himself, how many thoughts are direct -gifts, how much precious material _comes_ into his hands, is given—is -given—not his own; who will not admit, if nothing more, that a headache, -a qualm, may destroy his cherished hopes, so little can he rely on -self?”[80] - -The late Baron Alderson, writing to his son, says: “I have sent you to -Eton that you may be taught your duties as an English young gentleman. -The first duty of such a person is to be a good and religious Christian; -the next is to be a good scholar; and the third is to be accomplished in -all manly exercises and games, such as rowing, swimming, jumping, -cricket, and the like. Most boys, I fear, begin at the wrong end, and -take the last first; and, what is still worse, never arrive at either of -the other two at all. I hope, however, better things of you; and to hear -first that you are a good, truthful, honest boy, and then that you are -one of the hardest workers in your class; and after that, I confess I -shall be by no means sorry to hear that you can show the idle boys that -an industrious one can be a good cricketer, and jump as wide a ditch, or -clear as high a hedge, as any of them.” - - --------------------- -Footnote 80: - - Thring’s _Sermons delivered at Uppingham School_. - - ---------------------------- - - - ADVICE TO THE STUDENT. - -Dr. Arnold has given this sound counsel: “Preserve proportion in your -reading, keep your view of men and things extensive, and, _depend upon -it, a mixed knowledge is not a superficial one;_ as far as it goes, the -views that it gives are true; but he who reads deeply in one class of -writers only, gets views which are almost sure to be perverted, and -which are not only narrow but false.” - -It is a great mistake to suppose that full employment shuts out leisure. -The secret of leisure is to have eight hours a day entirely devoted to -business, and you will then find you have time for other pursuits; this -for some time to come will seem to you a paradox; but you will one day -be convinced of the truth, that the man who is the most engaged has -always the most leisure. - - - KNOWLEDGE AND WISDOM. - -That Knowledge is not True Wisdom cannot be too strongly urged upon -youth. “There is a heaping up of knowledge just as amenable to this -censure as the ignorance of the unlearned, not indeed so censured by -man, but equally worthy of it in a true judgment. The intellectual fool, -full of knowledge but without wisdom, whose way is right in his own -eyes, is no less a fool, nay, more so, than the ignorant fool, and as -far from true wisdom. For knowledge is a very different thing from -wisdom; knowledge is but the collecting together of a mass of material -at best, whilst wisdom is the right perception and right use leading to -further riches. The mere heaper-up of knowledge digs, as it were, ore -out of the earth, working underground in darkness; whereas the wise man -fashions all his knowledge into use and beauty, praising and blessing -God with it, and receiving from Him a fuller measure in consequence. -Wisdom is knowledge applied to life and to the praise of God,—a thing of -the heart, the heart controlling and using all the head gathers; -knowledge by itself is a mere barren store of the head, quite separable -from goodness and love,—a thing capable of being possessed by devils. -For this we must mark, the humblest good heart which loves God alone can -attain to the knowledge of God. No mere intellectual power and pride can -do that. And hence we may see why the man whose way is right in his own -eyes is a fool.”[81] - -Montaigne thus points out an educational error, common in our time as -well as in that of this charming writer, whom a gentleman is ashamed not -to have read: - - The care and expense our parents are at have no other aim but to - furnish our heads with knowledge, but not a word of judgment and - virtue. Cry out of one that passes by to our people, “Oh, what a - learned man is that!” and of another, “Oh, what a good man is that!” - they will not fail to turn their eyes and pay their respects to the - former. There should then be a third man to cry out, “Oh, what - blockheads they are!” Men are ready to ask, “Does he understand - Greek or Latin—is he a poet or prose-writer?” But whether he is the - better or more discreet man, though it is the main question, is the - last; for the inquiry should be, who has the best learning, not who - has the most. We only take pains to stuff the memory, and leave the - understanding and conscience quite unfurnished. Of what service is - it to us to have a bellyful of meat, if it does not digest—if it - does not change its form in our bodies—and if it does not nourish - and strengthen us? We suffer ourselves to lean so much upon the arms - of others, that our strength is of no use to us. Would I fortify - myself against the fear of death, I do it at the expense of Seneca; - would I extract consolation for myself or my friend, I borrow it - from Cicero; whereas I might have found it in myself, if I had been - trained up in the exercise of my own reason. I do not fancy the - acquiescence in second-hand hearsay knowledge; for though we may be - learned by the help of another’s knowledge, we can never be wise but - by our own wisdom. Agesilaus being asked what he thought most proper - for boys to learn, replied: What they ought to do when they come to - be men. - - --------------------- -Footnote 81: - - Thring’s _Sermons delivered at Uppingham School_. - - ---------------------------- - - - EDUCATION ALARMISTS. - -That a little learning is a dangerous thing, is an old saying, which has -been fearfully repeated in these days; but a little learning every one -will have, and the only way of averting the danger is, by providing the -people with all facilities for acquiring more. - -Lord Stowell was no admirer of the prevailing rage for universal -education, and made a remark with which Lord Sidmouth was much struck: -“If you provide,” he said, “a larger amount of cultivated talent than -there is a demand for, the surplus is very likely to turn sour.” - -Sir John Coleridge, in expressing his high sense of the obligations of -the country to the University of Oxford for their recent aids to -Middle-Class Education, says: “If the lower orders are to be raised in -political power in this country, to make that a blessing you must -cultivate the lower orders for discharging the duties to be thrown upon -them. Therefore it is that I think the University of Oxford conferred -the largest benefit that it had in its power to confer upon this country -at large, when, passing simply from the education of the higher orders -and those who were destined for the Church, it spread out its hands in a -frank and liberal spirit to all classes of society, and offered to -connect every body with itself, in a certain measure, who would only fit -himself for it by proper application.” - - - YORKSHIRE SCHOOLS. - -The disappearance from our newspapers of strings of “Education” -advertisements of Schools with low tariffs in Yorkshire, shows the -effect of satiric humour in correcting abuses of our own time. The -dietary of a school in Yorkshire, barmecide breakfasts and dinners, was -often held up _in terrorem_ to refractory boys, who heard the threat of -“I’ll send you to Yorkshire,” with fear and trembling. Mr. Dickens gives -an admirable exposure of this Spartan system in his tale of _Nicholas -Nickleby_, in the preface to which he says: - - I cannot call to mind now how I came to hear about Yorkshire - schools, when I was not a very robust child, sitting in bye places, - near Rochester Castle, with a head full of Partridge, Strap, Tom - Pipes, and Sancho Panza; but I know that my first impressions of - them were picked up at that time, and that they were, somehow or - other, connected with a suppurated abscess that some boy had come - home with in consequence of his Yorkshire guide, philosopher, and - friend having ripped it open with an inky penknife. - -Before the book was written, Mr. Dickens went into Yorkshire to look for -a school in which the imaginary boy of an imaginary widow might be put -away until the thawing of a tardy compassion in that widow’s imaginary -friends. Then some stern realities were seen; and we are told also, in -the preface, of a supper with a real John Browdie, whose answer as to -the search for a cheap Yorkshire schoolmaster was, “Dom’d if ar can gang -to bed and not tellee, for weedur’s sak’, to keep the lattle boy from a’ -sike scoundrels, while there’s a harse to hoold in a’ London, or a -goother to lie asleep in!” - - - BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG. - -Great mistakes have been made in writing books for children. When Sir -Walter Scott was about to write his _Tales of a Grandfather_, he -remarked: “I am persuaded both children and the lower class of readers -hate books which are written _down_ to their capacity, and love those -that are composed for their elders and betters. I will make, if -possible, a book that a child shall understand, yet a man should feel -some temptation to peruse should he chance to take it up.... The grand -and interesting consists in ideas, not in words.” Again, “the problem of -narrating history is at once to excite and gratify the curiosity of -youth, and please and instruct the wisest of mature minds.”[82] - - --------------------- -Footnote 82: - - Lockhart’s _Life of Scott_. - - ---------------------------- - - - THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. - -The treasures of our tongue, says Dr. Richardson, the lexicographer, are -spread over continents, and cultivated among islands in the northern and -the southern hemisphere, from “the unformed Occident to the strange -shores of unknowing nations in the East.” The sun, indeed, now never -sets upon the empire of Great Britain. Not one hour of the twenty-four -in which the earth completes her diurnal revolution, not one round of -the minute-hand of the dial, is allowed to pass, in which, on some -portion of the surface of the globe, the air is not filled with “accents -that are ours.” They are heard in the ordinary transactions of life, or -in the administration of law, or in the deliberations of the -senate-house or council-chamber, or in the offices of private devotion, -or in the public observance of the rites and duties of a common faith. - -Dr. Richardson’s _Dictionary of the English Language_, the foremost work -of its class, we owe greatly to the judicious energy of Mr. Pickering, -the publisher, who laid out two thousand pounds in books, specially for -this great labour, before it was commenced. If publishers would imitate -Mr. Pickering’s liberality oftener than is done, there would be fewer -incomplete and abortive compilations than are yearly issued from the -press. Dr. Richardson acknowledges this valuable aid in his Preface, -where he justly makes his boast of bringing within the circle of his -reading a large number of books which had never been employed for -lexicographical purposes before; and Dean Trench acknowledges that the -virgin soil which Richardson has tilled has often yielded him large and -rich returns. - -Of the uselessness of our legions of words to be found in dictionaries, -a writer of the day observes: - - Dictionary English is something very different not only from common - colloquial English, but even from that of ordinary written - composition. Instead of about 40,000 words, there is probably no - single author in the language from whose works, however voluminous, - so many as 10,000 words could be collected. Of the 40,000 words - there are certainly many more than one-half that are only employed, - if they are ever employed at all, on the rarest occasions. We should - any of us be surprised to find, if we counted them, with how small a - number of words we manage to express all that we have to say either - with our lips or even with the pen. Our common literary English - probably hardly extends to 10,000 words, our common spoken English - hardly to 5000. And the proportion of native or home-grown words is - undoubtedly very much higher in both the 5000 and the 10,000 than it - is in the 40,000. Perhaps of the 30,000 words, or thereabouts, - standing in the dictionaries, that are very rarely or never used, - even in writing, between 20,000 and 25,000 may be free of French or - Latin extraction. If we assume 22,500 to be so, that will leave 5000 - Teutonic words in common use; and in our literary English, taken at - 10,000 words, those that are non-Roman will thus amount to about - one-half. Of that half 4000 words may be current in our spoken - language, which will therefore be genuine English for four-fifths of - its entire extent. It will consist of about 4000 Gothic and 1000 - Roman words.[83] - -The Rev. Dr. D’Orsey has shown, by coloured charts and elaborate tables, -the proportion of the Teutonic and Romanic elements in the spoken -language of England, and in the writings of our great authors. Thus, out -of 100,000 words, at least 60,000 were Teutonic, 30,000 Romanic, and -10,000 from all other sources. - -It would be almost impossible to compose a sentence of moderate length -consisting solely of words of Latin derivation. But there are many which -can be rendered wholly in Anglo-Saxon. It would be easy to make the -Lord’s Prayer entirely, as it is in present use almost entirely, -Anglo-Saxon. It consists of sixty words, and six of these only have a -Latin root. But for each of them, except one, we have an exact Saxon -equivalent. For “trespasses” we may substitute “sins;” for “temptation,” -“trials;” for “deliver,” “free;” and for “power,” “might.” Dr. Trench -proposes for “glory,” “brightness;” but this we think is not a good -substitute. - -The gradual changes in language are very remarkable. Dean Trench, in one -of his popular manuals, observes: “How few aged persons, let them retain -the fullest possession of their faculties, are conscious of any -difference between the spoken language of their early youth and that of -their old age; that words, and ways of using words, are obsolete now -which were usual then; that many words are current now which had no -existence at that time. And yet it is certain that so it must be. A man -may fairly be supposed to remember clearly and well for sixty years -back; and it needs less than five of these sixties to bring us to the -period of Spenser, and not more than eight to set us in the time of -Chaucer and Wiclif. How great a change, how vast a difference in our -language, within eight memories! No one, overlooking this whole term, -will deny the greatness of the change. For all this, we may be tolerably -sure that, had it been possible to interrogate a series of eight -persons, such as together had filled up this time, intelligent men, but -men whose attention had not been especially roused on this subject, each -in his turn would have denied that there had been any change at all -during his lifetime. And yet, having regard to the multitude of words -which have fallen into disuse during these four or five hundred years, -we are sure that there must have been some lives in this chain which saw -those words in use at their commencement, and out of use before their -close. And so, too, of the multitude of words which have come into being -within the limits of each of these lives.” - - --------------------- -Footnote 83: - - _Dublin University Magazine._ - - ---------------------------- - - - WHAT IS “ARGUMENT”? - -The origin and proper value of the word “Argument” has been thus -explained by the Rev. Dr. Donaldson, in a paper read to the Cambridge -Philosophical Society: - -The author first investigated the etymology and meaning of the Latin -verb _arguo_, and its participle _argutus_. He showed that _arguo_ was a -corruption of _argruo_ = _ad gruo_; that _gruo_ (in _argruo_, _ingruo_, -_congruo_) ought to be compared with κρούω, which means “to dash one -thing against another,” especially for the purpose of making a shrill, -ringing noise; that _arguo_ means “to knock something for the purpose of -making it ring, or testing its soundness,” hence “to test, examine, and -prove any thing;” and that _argutus_ signifies “made to ring,” hence -“making a distinct, shrill noise,” or “tested and put to the proof.” -Accordingly _argumentum_ means _id quod arguit_, “that which makes a -substance ring, which sounds, examines, tests, and proves it.” - -It was then shown that these meanings were not only borne out by the -classical usage of the word, but also by the technical application of -“argument” as a logical term. For it is not equivalent to -“argumentation,” or the process of reasoning; it does not even denote a -complete syllogism; though Dr. Whately and some other writers on logic -had fallen into this vague use of the word, and though it was so -understood in the disputations of the Cambridge schools. The proper use -of the word “argument” in logic is to denote “the middle term,” _i. e._ -“the term used for proof.” In a sense similar to this the word is -employed by mathematicians; and there can be no doubt that the oldest -and best logicians confine the word to this, which is still its most -common signification. - -The author shows, by a collection of examples from the best English -poets, that the established meanings of the word “argument” are -reducible to three: (1) a proof, or means of proving; (2) a process of -reasoning, or controversy, made up of such proofs; (3) the -subject-matter of any discourse, writing, or picture. He maintains that -the second of these meanings should be excluded from scientific -language. - -By this we are reminded of Swift’s dictum, of much wider -application—that “Argument, as generally managed, is the worst sort of -conversation; as it is generally in books the worst sort of reading.” - - - HANDWRITING. - -The characters of writing have followed the genius of the barbarous -ages: they are well or ill formed, in proportion as the sciences have -flourished more or less. Antiquaries remark that the medals struck -during the consulship of Fabius Pictor, 250 years before Augustus, have -the letters better formed than those of the older date. Those of the -time of Augustus, and the following age, show characters of perfect -beauty. Those of Diocletian and Maximian are worse formed than those of -the Antonines; and again, those of the Justins and Justinians degenerate -into a Gothic taste. But it is not to medals only that these remarks are -applicable: we see the same inferiority of written characters generally -following in the train of barbarism and ignorance. During the first race -of the French kings, we find no writing which is not a mixture of Roman -and other characters. Under the empire of Charlemagne and of Louis le -Débonnaire, the characters returned almost to the same point of -perfection which distinguished them in the time of Augustus, but in the -following age there was a relapse to the former barbarism; so that for -four or five centuries we find only the Gothic characters in -manuscripts; for it is not worth while making an exception for short -periods which were somewhat more polished, and when there was less -inelegance in the formation of the letters. - -The being _able to write_ has been taken by our statists as the best -evidence of the progress of education. Thus, twenty years ago, only 67 -in every 100 men who married in England signed their names upon the -register, and 51 in every 100 women, and thirteen years later the -percentage was but 69·6 of the men and 56·1 of the women; but in the -last seven years, a period which probably shows in its marriages the -result chiefly of the education of the years 1840-45 or thereabouts, the -advance has been much greater, and the Registrar-General reports that in -1860 the proportion of men writing their names had risen to 74·5, and of -women to 63·8. In the whole twenty years the proportion of men who write -has risen from being only two-thirds to be three-fourths, and of women -from being a half to be nearly two-thirds, which may be expressed with -tolerable accuracy by saying that where four persons had to “make their -mark” then, only three do so now. This is for all England; but the rate -of progress has not been the same in every part of the kingdom. - -In the reign of George III., when education had become more general, the -crosses of those who could not write lost the distinction and artistic -character of older times, and the large bold round-hand corresponds in -style with the buildings and furniture then in use. This writing, -although without much beauty, has, notwithstanding, the merit of -distinctness. In these railway times, with the exception of book-keepers -in banks and clerks in merchants’ offices, few seem to have time to trim -their letters. Few artists write a good hand. Physicians’ prescriptions -are often as difficult to decipher as ancient hieroglyphics; and it must -be confessed that writers for the press are not generally remarkable for -either the distinctness or beauty of their manuscript. As regards -artists, the practice of handling the brush and pencil is not favourable -to graceful penmanship; and in respect of the literary profession, it is -generally difficult for the pen to keep pace with the thoughts, to say -nothing of the fact, that time often presses.[84] - -Short-Hand is of great antiquity; for Seneca tells us that in his time -reporting had been carried to such perfection, that a writer could keep -pace in his report with the most rapid speaker. - - --------------------- -Footnote 84: - - Communicated to _The Builder_. - - ---------------------------- - - - ENGLISH STYLE. - -Style in writing has been well defined by Swift as “proper words in -proper places.” However, this is rarely seen. - -To the unsettled state of our language, and owing to the want of proper -training in composition, may be attributed the general corruption of -English Style, which has scarcely ceased since Southey, in his -_Colloquies_, wrote the following vigorous condemnation of it: - - More lasting effect was produced by translators, who, in later - times, have corrupted our idiom as much as, in early ones, they - enriched our vocabulary; and to this injury the Scotch have greatly - contributed; for, composing in a language which is not their mother - tongue, they necessarily acquired an artificial and formal style, - which, not so much through the merit of a few, as owing to the - perseverance of others, who for half a century seated themselves on - the bench of criticism, has almost superseded the vernacular English - of Addison and Swift. Our journals, indeed, have been the great - corrupters of our style, and continue to be so; and not for this - reason only. Men who write in newspapers, and magazines, and - reviews, write for present effect; in most cases, this is as much - their natural and proper aim, as it would be in public speaking; but - when it is so, they consider, like public speakers, not so much what - is accurate or just, either in matter or manner, as what will be - acceptable to those whom they address. Writing also under the - excitement of emulation and rivalry, they seek, by all the artifices - and efforts of an ambitious style, to dazzle their readers; and they - are wise in their generation, experience having shown that common - minds are taken by glittering faults, both in prose and verse, as - larks are with looking-glasses. - - In this school it is that most writers are now trained; and after - such training, any thing like an easy and natural movement is as - little to be looked for in their compositions as in the step of a - dancing-master. To the views of style, which are thus generated, - there must be added the inaccuracies inevitably arising from haste, - when a certain quantity of matter is to be supplied for a daily or - weekly publication, which allows of no delay,—the slovenliness that - confidence as well as fatigue and inattention will produce,—and the - barbarisms which are the effect of ignorance, or that smattering of - knowledge which serves only to render ignorance presumptuous. These - are the causes of corruption in our current style; and when these - are considered, there would be ground for apprehending that the best - writings of the last century might become as obsolete as ours in the - like process of time, if we had not in our Liturgy and our Bible a - standard from which it will not be possible wholly to depart. - -The days of sentences of one word, and of others without a verb, had not -then arrived; nor had the spasmodic and sensation style been introduced. -Southey’s own style, whether for narrative, for exposition, or for -animated argumentation, was perhaps the most effective English style of -the time. It combines in a remarkable degree a somewhat lofty dignity -with ease and idiomatic vigour. He was the most hard-working writer of -his time, and left about 12,000_l._ in money, besides a valuable -library. - -Sir Thomas Browne satirises the strenuous advocacy of the classical -style by saying: “We are now forced to study Latin, in order to -understand English.” And Pope ridicules that - - Easy Ciceronian style, - So Latin, yet so English all the while. - -It is no paradox to say that the perfection of style is to have none, -but to let the words be suggested by the sentiments, unchecked by the -monotony of a manner, and untainted by affectation. - -How striking is this short passage in a speech of Edward IV. to his -Parliament! “The injuries that I have received are known every where, -and the eyes of the world are fixed upon me to see with what countenance -I suffer.” If actual events could often be related in this way, there -would be more books in circulating libraries than romances and novels. - -This lively and graphic style is plainly the best, though now and then -the historian’s criticism is wanted to support a startling fact, or to -explain a confused transaction. Thus, the learned Rudbeck, in his -_Atlantica_, four volumes folio, ascribing an ancient temple in Sweden -to one of Noah’s sons, warily adds, “’Twas probably the youngest.” - -A more practical definition of style may be gathered from what Fox said -of his great antagonist, Pitt,—and therefore the more to be -trusted,—that he always used _the_ word; and each word had its own -place, not regulated by chance, but by law. - -To write a good Letter is a rare accomplishment. It is owing to the want -of proper training in the laws of composition that so few persons in -England can write even a common letter correctly. We will give a -familiar instance of a very frequent solecism which occurs in one of the -most common acts of every-day life—the answer to a dinner invitation; -and it is one in which, we are sorry to say, well-educated ladies are -too often caught tripping. When “Mr. A. and Mrs. A. request the pleasure -of Mr. and Mrs. B.’s company at dinner,” the reply usually is, “Mr. and -Mrs. B. _will_ have the pleasure of accepting” the invitation. But the -acceptance is already _un fait accompli_ by the very act of writing -it,—it is a present, not a future event; and the answer of course ought -to be either “Mr. and Mrs. B. _have_ the pleasure of accepting,” or “Mr. -and Mrs. B. _will have_ the pleasure of _dining_.”[85] - - --------------------- -Footnote 85: - - _Fraser’s Magazine._ - - ---------------------------- - - - ART OF WRITING. - -“He that would write well,” says Roger Ascham, “must follow the advice -of Aristotle, to speak as the common people speak, and to think as the -wise think.” - -Coleridge says: “To write or talk concerning any subject, without having -previously taken the pains to understand it, is a breach of the duty -which we owe to ourselves, though it may be no offence against the law -of the land. The privilege of talking, and even publishing, nonsense, is -necessary in a free state; but the more sparingly we make use of it, the -better.”[86] - -Much reading and good company are supposed to be the best methods of -getting at the niceties and elegancies of a language; but this road is -long and irksome. The great point is to acquire our most usual -Anglicisms; all those phrases and peculiarities which form the -characteristics of our language. Nearly eighty years since, Mr. Sharp -took upon himself to say that we had no grammar capable of teaching a -foreigner to read our authors; adding, “but of this I am sure, that we -have none by which he can be enabled to understand our conversation.” - -What an annoyance are long speakers, long talkers, and long -writers—people who will not take time to think, or are not capable of -thinking accurately! Once when Dr. South had preached before Queen Anne, -her majesty observed to him, “You have given me a most excellent -discourse, Dr. South; but I wish you had had time to make it longer.” -“Nay, madam,” replied the doctor, “if I had had time, I should have made -it shorter.” - -Method in treating your subject is of great importance. Southey has well -illustrated the absence of this quality. A Quaker, by name Benjamin Lay -(who was a little cracked in the head, though sound at the heart), took -one of his compositions to Benjamin Franklin, that it might be printed -and published. Franklin, having looked over the manuscript, observed -that it was deficient in arrangement: “It is no matter,” replied the -author; “print any part thou pleaseth first.” Many are the speeches, and -the sermons, and the treatises, and the poems, and the volumes, which -are like Benjamin Lay’s book: the head might serve for the tail, and the -tail for the body, and the body for the head; either end for the middle, -and the middle for either end; nay, if you could turn them inside out, -like a polypus or a glove, they would be no worse for the operation.[87] - - * * * * * - -Free Translation is a rare accomplishment. Sir John Denham, who is -declared by Johnson “to have been one of the first that understood the -necessity of emancipating translation from the drudgery of counting -lines and interpreting single words,” gives the same praise to Sir -Richard Fanshawe, whom he addresses thus: - - That servile path thou nobly dost decline, - Of tracing word by word and line by line; - A new and nobler way thou dost pursue, - To make translations and translators too: - They but preserve the ashes, thou the flame, - True to his sense, but truer to his fame. - -Dryden said, all the translations of the old school “want to be -translated into English;” and verbal translation he compares to “dancing -on ropes with fettered legs.” Education cannot do all that Helvetius -supposes, but it can do much. _Elle fait danser l’ours_,—It makes a bear -dance. It is said that some insects take the colour of the leaf that -they feed upon. “I was common clay till roses were planted in me,” says -some aromatic earth, in an eastern fable. - -To unlearn is harder than to learn, and the Grecian flute-player was -right in requiring double fees from those pupils who had been taught by -another master. “I am rubbing their father out of my children as fast as -I can,” said a clever widow of rank and fashion. - -The Education of princes, or indeed the spoilt children of rich and -distinguished parents, must be the _experimentum crucis_ of teaching. -“If Fénelon did succeed, as it is recorded he did, in educating the -Dauphin, his success was little less than a miracle. How can any man, -though of advanced age and of high reputation, perhaps also of a sacred -profession and of elevated station, be expected to preserve any useful -authority over a child (probably a wayward little animal), if he, the -tutor, must always address the pupil by his title, or at least must -never forget that he is heir to a throne?” - -There is some truth in the following remarks by a writer in _Blackwood’s -Magazine_, upon information overmuch: - - We deal largely in general knowledge—an excellent article, no doubt; - but one may have too much of it. Sometimes ignorance is really - bliss. It has not added to my personal comfort to know to a decimal - fraction what proportion of red earth I may expect to find in my - cocoa every morning; to have become knowingly conscious that my - coffee is mixed with ground liver and litmus, instead of honest - chicory; and that bisulphuret of mercury forms the basis of my - cayenne. It was once my fate to have a friend staying in my house - who was one of these minute philosophers. He used to amuse himself - after breakfast by a careful analysis and diagnosis of the contents - of the teapot, laid out as a kind of _hortus siccus_ on his plate. - “This leaf, now,” he would say, “is fuchsia; observe the serrated - edges: that’s no tea-leaf—positively poisonous. This now, again, is - blackthorn, or privet—yes, privet; you may know it by the divisions - in the panicles: that’s no tea-leaf.” A most uncomfortable guest he - was; and though not a bad companion in many respects, I felt my - appetite improved the first time I sat down to dinner without him. - It won’t do to look into all your meals with a microscope. Of course - there is a medium between these over-curious investigations and an - implicit faith in every thing that is set before you. - - --------------------- -Footnote 86: - - One fine morning, a stalwart anti-Newtonian, properly accredited, - presented himself to Baron Maseres, in the library of his mansion at - Reigate: “I am come to talk over my favourite subject,” he said (it - was, to overturn the universe!). “I am happy to see you,” replied the - Baron; “but before we commence, I must ask you if you consider - yourself proficient in mathematics?” The anti-Newtonian was - dumbfounded. “Then,” rejoined the Baron, “it would be unprofitable for - us to begin;” and he passed on to a more genial topic. - -Footnote 87: - - _The Doctor._ - - ---------------------------- - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Business-Life. - - - - - ---------------------------- - - - WANT OF A PURSUIT. - -Such is the complicated constitution of human nature, that a man without -a predominant inclination is not likely to be either useful or happy. - -He who is every thing is nothing, is as true of our sensitive as of our -intellectual nature. He is rather a bundle of little likings, than a -compact and energetic individual. A strong desire soon subdues the -weaker, and rules us with the united force of all that it subjugates. - -Such being the force of human feelings, it must embitter our daily lives -if our employments are unsuited to our talents and our wishes; yet how -few, alas, are so fortunate as to be gaining either wealth or fame while -gratifying an inclination! - -In the best of all arts, the art of living, the greatest skill is not to -wait; but, as you run along, snatch at every fruit and every flower -growing within your reach; for, after all that can be said, youth, the -age of hope and admiration, and manhood, the age of business and of -influence, are to be preferred to the period of extinguished passions -and languid curiosity. At that season, our hopes and wishes must have -been too long dropping, leaf by leaf, away. The last scenes of the fifth -act are seldom the most interesting, either in a tragedy or a comedy. -Yet many compensations arise as our sensibility decays: - - Time steals away the rose, ’tis true; - But then the thorn is blunted too.[88] - -Life, without some necessity for exertion (says Mr. Walker[89]), must -ever lack real interest. That state is capable of the greatest enjoyment -where necessity urges, but not painfully; where effort is required, but -as much as possible without anxiety; where the spring and summer of life -are preparatory to the harvest of autumn and the repose of winter. Then -is every season sweet, and, in a well-spent life, the last the best—the -season of calm enjoyment, the richest in recollections, the brightest in -hope. Good training and a fair start constitute a more desirable -patrimony than wealth; and those parents who study their children’s -welfare rather than the gratification of their own avarice or vanity, -would do well to think of this. Is it better to run a successful race, -or to begin and end at the goal? - - --------------------- -Footnote 88: - - Richard Sharp. - -Footnote 89: - - In _The Original_, a series of Periodical Papers, published in 1835, - by Thomas Walker, M.A., one of the Police Magistrates of the - Metropolis. - - ---------------------------- - - - THE ENGLISH CHARACTER. - -Four and thirty years since, Sir Humphry Davy wrote:“The English as a -nation are preëminently active, and the natives of no other country -follow their objects with so much force, fire, and constancy. And as -human powers are limited, there are few examples of very distinguished -men living in this country to old age: they usually fail, droop, and -die, before they have attained the period naturally marked out for the -end of human existence. The lives of our statesmen, warriors, poets, and -even philosophers, offer abundant proofs of the truth of this opinion: -whatever burns, consumes; ashes remain. Before the period of youth is -passed, gray hairs usually cover those brows which are adorned with the -civic oak or the laurel; and in the luxurious and exciting life of the -men of pleasure, their tints are not even preserved by the myrtle wreath -or the garland of roses from the premature winter of time.” If these -characteristics were applicable to English life a third of a century -since, how much has their fitness been strengthened by the rapidity of -action, the excitement, and want of repose adding to the wear and tear -of existence, since that period. - -That the Englishman is one of the most noble species of the genus to -which he belongs, seems to be generally conceded. The poet Southey -expressed the opinion of more thinkers than himself when he said that -the Englishman is the model or pattern man, at least of all the species -at present existing. But even those who are most thoroughly convinced of -this must admit that he has his peculiarities—foremost among which is -his nationality; and one of the most striking peculiarities of that -nationality is pride. Another potent element in the English character is -its practical worth,—this word “practical” being the shibboleth by which -we love to recognise ourselves; as the Greeks delighted to picture -themselves as more wise, the French as more polite, than other nations. - -Our genius has a most real, concrete, and altogether terrestrial -tendency: there seems to be a considerable majority of Sadducees among -us, or, as Plato calls them, “uninitiated persons, who believe in -nothing but what they can lay hold of with their hands. These men will -make railways, telegraphs, and tunnels, and build crystal palaces, and -collect mechanical products from the ends of the earth, and exhibit in -every possible shape and variety the sublime of what is mechanical and -material; but for the supersensual ideas, they will have none of -them.”[90] - -Nevertheless, if we look through the history of the world’s genius, we -shall find its greatest successes to lie in the practical. Homer begged; -Tasso begged in a different way; Galileo was racked; De Witt -assassinated,—and all for wishing to improve their species. At the same -time, Raffaelle, Michel Angelo, Zeuxis, Apelles, Rubens, Reynolds, -Titian, Shakspeare, were rich and happy. Why? because with their genius -they combined practical prudence. This is the grand secret of success. - - --------------------- -Footnote 90: - - Professor Blackie; _Edinburgh Essays_, 1856. - - ---------------------------- - - - WORTH OF ENERGY. - -A man with knowledge but without energy is a home furnished but not -inhabited; a man with energy but no knowledge, a house dwelt in but -unfurnished. - -Mr. Sharp[91] counsels us: “Prefer a life of energy to a life of -inaction. There are always kind friends enough ready to preach up -caution and delay, &c. Yet it is impossible to lay down any general rule -of a prudential kind. Every one must be judged of after a careful review -of all its circumstances; for if one, only one, be overlooked, the -decision may be injurious or fatal. Thus, there will ever be many -conflicting reasons for and against a spirit of enterprise and a habit -of caution. - -“Those who advise others to withstand the temptations of hope will -always appear to be wiser than they really are, for how often can it be -made certain that the rejected and untried hazard would have been -successful? Besides, those who dissuade us from action have corrupt but -powerful allies in our indolence, irresolution, and cowardice. To -despond is very easy, but it requires works as well as faith to engage -successfully in a difficult undertaking. - -“There are, however, few difficulties that hold out against real -attacks: they fly, like the visible horizon, before those who advance. A -passionate desire and an unwearied will can perform impossibilities, or -what seem to be so to the cold and the feeble. If we do but go on, some -unseen path will open among the hills. - -“We must not allow ourselves to be discouraged by the apparent -disproportion between the result of single efforts and the magnitude of -the obstacles to be encountered. Nothing great or good is to be obtained -without courage and industry; but courage and industry must have sunk in -despair, and the world must have remained unornamented and unimproved, -if men had nicely compared the effect of a single stroke of the chisel -with the pyramid to be raised, or of a single impression of the spade -with the mountain to be levelled. - - * * * * * - -“Efforts, it must not be forgotten, are as indispensable as desires. The -globe is not to be circumnavigated by one wind. ‘It is better to wear -out than to rust,’ says Bishop Cumberland. ‘There will be time enough -for repose in the grave,’ said Nicole to Pascal. In truth, the proper -rest for man is change of occupation. - -“The toils as well as risks of an active life are commonly overrated, so -much may be done by the diligent use of ordinary opportunities; but they -must not always be waited for. We must not only strike the iron while it -is hot, but strike it till ‘it is made hot.’ Herschel, the great -astronomer, declares that 90 or 100 hours, clear enough for observation, -cannot be called an unproductive year. - -“The lazy, the dissipated, and the fearful, should patiently see the -active and the bold pass them in the course. They must bring down their -pretensions to the level of their talents. Those who have not energy to -work must learn to be humble, and should not vainly hope to unite the -incompatible enjoyments of indolence and enterprise, of ambition and -self-indulgence.” - -These lines of fair encouragement are the advice of a man of the world, -but whose feelings had not become blunted by his intercourse with the -world: he was one of the most cheerful, amiable, and happy beings it -ever fell to our lot to know; his joyous manner was the true index to -his large and sound heart. - - --------------------- -Footnote 91: - - Mr. Richard Sharp, F.R.S., and some time M.P. for Port-Arlington, in - Ireland. He was celebrated for his conversational talents, and hence - was known as “Conversation Sharp.” At Fridley-farm, Sir James - Macintosh, and other distinguished men of his day, were frequently Mr. - Sharp’s guests. Of his volume of _Letters, Essays, and Poems_, a third - edition appeared in 1834. - - ---------------------------- - - - TEST OF GREATNESS. - -The true test of a great man (says Lord Brougham),—that at least which -must secure his place among the highest order of great men,—is his -having been in advance of his age. This it is which decides whether or -not he has carried forward the grand plan of human improvement; has -conformed his views and adapted his conduct to the existing -circumstances of society, or changed those so as to better its -condition; has been one of the lights of the world, or only reflected -the borrowed rays of former luminaries, and sat in the same shade with -the rest of his generation at the same twilight or the same dawn. - -Nature seldom invests great men with any outward signs, from which their -greatness may be known or foretold; and yet (says Lord Dudley) I own I -share fully in that curiosity of the vulgar, which induces them to -follow after and to gaze eagerly upon the mere bodily presence of -persons that have raised themselves high above the common level. - -Almost all great men who have performed, or who are destined to perform, -great things, are sparing of words. Their communing is with themselves -rather than with others. They feed upon their own thoughts, and in these -inward musings brace those intellectual and active energies, the -development of which constitutes the great character. Napoleon became a -babbler only when his fate was accomplished, and his fortune was on the -decline. - -Boyle has this pertinent reflection: “There is such a kind of difference -between vertue shaded by a private, and shining forth in a publick life, -as there is betwixt a candle carri’d aloft in the open air, and inclosed -in a lanthorn; in the former place it gives more light, but in the -latter ’tis in less danger to be blown out.”[92] - -The real test of greatness is courage and respect for truth, generally -the earliest precept of childhood, yet of comparatively rare observance -through life. “Without courage,” says Sir Walter Scott, “there cannot be -truth; and without truth there can be no other virtue.” And how nobly -did Scott illustrate this in his own life-practice! - -Truth was the redeeming virtue of one of the favoured men of our -political history. The qualities which raised Fox high as a party leader -were not merely his eloquence, his wit, his genius, but also his -engaging warmth of heart and kindliness of temper. To these a strong -testimony may be found in the memoirs of a great historian by no means -blind to his faults, and by no means attached to his principles. On -summing up his character, many years afterwards, Gibbon writes of Fox as -follows: “Perhaps no human being was ever more perfectly exempt from the -taint of malevolence, vanity, or falsehood.” - - --------------------- -Footnote 92: - - _Occasional Reflections._ - - ---------------------------- - - - CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. - - Keep not standing fix’d and rooted, - Briskly venture, briskly roam! - Hand and heart, where’er thou foot it, - And stout heart are still at home. - In each land the sun does visit - We are gay, whate’er betide; - To give space for wand’ring is it - That the world was made so wide. - _Wilhelm Meister:_ Carlyle. - -We know of no more fertile source of crime than Idleness. It is the want -of a due impression of the importance and legitimate employment of time, -which is one of the main occasions of the luxury and profligacy of one -order of society; and it is the same cause which vitiates and defiles -the manners of another, and a subordinate rank, in the scale. It is -inquired by an ancient poet, who was a keen and accurate observer of -human character, why Ægisthus so grievously and wantonly deviated from -the path of virtue? and he immediately rejoins the reply, “The cause is -obvious,—he was idle!” And it is a circumstance worthy of remark, that -when Hogarth wished to give a portrait of a veteran criminal, he made -him commence his career as a boy lolling on the tombstones of the -churchyard on a Sunday. - -Mr. Ruskin has written these beautiful words of encouragement: “God -appoints to every one of His creatures a separate mission; and if they -discharge it honourably—if they quit themselves like men, and faithfully -follow that light which is in them, withdrawing from it all cold and -quenching influence—there will assuredly come of it such burning as, in -its appointed mode and measure, shall shine before men, and be of -service, constant and holy. Degrees infinite of lustre there must always -be; but the weakest among us has a gift, however seemingly trivial, -which is peculiar to him, and which, worthily used, will be a gift also -to his race for ever.” - -‘Know thyself’ is an old precept; yet it is surprising how few are -sufficiently acquainted with themselves to see distinctly what their own -motives actually are. It is a rare thing, as well as a great advantage, -for a man to know his own mind. - -Were but a tithe of the time and the thought usually spent in learning -the commonest accomplishments bestowed upon regulating our lives, how -many evils would be avoided or lessened; how many pleasures would be -created or increased! - -In one of Steele’s papers, No. 173 of the _Tatler_, are some admirable -remarks upon the time lost by boys in learning that which, in -after-life, is of little service to them. “The truth of it is,” says -Steele, “the first rudiments of education are given very indiscreetly by -most parents. Whatever children are designed for, and whatever prospects -the fortune or interest of their parents may give them in their future -lives, they are all promiscuously instructed in the same way; and Horace -and Virgil must be thumbed by a boy as well before he goes to an -apprenticeship as to the university.... This is the natural effect of a -certain vanity in the minds of parents, who are wonderfully delighted -with the thought of breeding their children to accomplishments, which -they believe nothing but the want of the same care in their own fathers -prevented them being masters of. Thus it is that the part of life most -fit for improvement is generally employed against the bent of nature; -and a lad of such parts as are fit for an occupation where there can be -no calls out of the beaten path, is two or three years of his time -wholly taken up in knowing how well Ovid’s mistress became such a dress, -&c.... However, still the humour goes on from one generation to another; -and the pastrycook here in the lane, the other night, told me ‘he would -not take away his son from his learning; but has resolved, as soon as he -has had a little smattering in the Greek, to put him apprentice to a -soap-boiler.’ These wrong beginnings determine our success in the world; -and when our thoughts are originally falsely biassed, their agility and -force do but carry us the farther out of our way, in proportion to our -speed. But we are half-way on our journey when we have got into the -right road. If all our ways were usefully employed, and we did not set -out impertinently, we should not have so many grotesque professors in -all the arts of life; but every man would be in a proper and becoming -method of distinguishing or entertaining himself, suitably to what -nature designed him. As they go on now, our parents do not only force -upon us what is against our talents, but our teachers are also as -injudicious in what they put us to learn.” - -The practice of the irresolute in deliberating without deciding is -another parlous error. “What I cannot resolve upon in half an hour,” -said the Duc de Guise, “I cannot resolve upon at all.” - -Bacon has well described this irresolution in his complaint, “that some -men object too much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too -soon, and seldom drive business home.” - -The strongest incentive to decision is self-dependence. Mr. Sharp writes -to a young friend at college: - - I have confidence in your capacity. However, my favourable - anticipations arise chiefly from your being aware that your station - in society must depend entirely on your own exertions. Luckily, you - have not to overcome the disadvantage of expecting to inherit from - your father an income equal to your reasonable desires; for, though - it may have the air of a paradox, yet it is truly a serious - disadvantage when a young man going to the bar is sufficiently - provided for. - - Vitam facit beatiorem - Res non parta, sed relicta, - - says Martial, but not wisely; and no young man should believe him. - - The necessity for instant decision in life renders it often prudent - to take the chance of being right or wrong, without waiting to - balance reasons very nicely. In such cases, and sometimes even in - speculation, this kind of credulity is more philosophical than - scepticism; though authority in abstruse investigations should - usually do little more than excite attention, while in practice it - must guide our conduct. - - It is unfortunate when a man’s intellectual and his moral character - are not suited to each other. The horses in a carriage should go the - same pace and draw in the same direction, or the motion will be - neither pleasant nor safe. - - Bonaparte has remarked of one of his marshals, that “he had a - military genius, but had not intrepidity enough in the field to - execute his own plans;” and of another he said, “he is as brave as - his sword, but he wants judgment and resources: neither,” he added, - “is to be trusted with a great command.” - - This want of harmony between the talents and the temperament is - often found in private life; and, wherever found, is the fruitful - source of faults and sufferings. Perhaps there are few less happy - than those who are ambitious without industry; who pant for the - prize, but will not run the race; who thirst for truth, but are too - slothful to draw it up from the well. - - Now this defect, whether arising from indolence or from timidity, is - far from being incurable. It may, at least in part, be remedied by - frequently reflecting on the endless encouragements to exertion held - out by our own experience and by example: - - C’est des difficultés que naissent les miracles. - - It is not every calamity that is a curse, and _early_ adversity - especially is often a blessing. Perhaps Madame de Maintenon would - never have mounted a throne had not her cradle been rocked in a - prison. Surmounted obstacles not only teach, but hearten us in our - future struggles; for virtue must be learnt, though unfortunately - some of the vices come, as it were, by inspiration. The austerities - of our northern climate are thought to be the cause of our abundant - comforts; as our wintry nights and our stormy seas have given us a - race of seamen perhaps unequalled, and certainly not surpassed, by - any in the world. - - “Mother,” said a Spartan lad going to battle, “my sword is too - short.” “Add a step to it,” she replied; but it must be owned that - this advice was to be given only to a Spartan boy. They should not - be thrown into the water who cannot swim: I know your buoyancy, and - I have no fears of your being drowned. - - ---------------------------- - - - OFFICIAL LIFE. - -The grand scramble for place was thus vividly painted by Mr. Sharp some -eighty years since: “The young people of this country, in every rank, -from a peer’s son to a street-sweeper’s, are drawn aside from a -praiseworthy exertion in honest callings, by having their eyes directed -towards the public treasury. The rewards of persevering industry are too -slow for them, too small, and too insipid. They fondly trust to the -great lottery, although the wheel contains so many blanks and so few -prizes; hoping that their ticket may be drawn a place, a pension, or a -contract; a living, or a stall; a ship, or a regiment; a seat on the -bench, or the great seal. - -“It is, indeed, most humiliating to witness the indecent scramble that -is always going on for these prizes, the highest born and best educated -rolling in the dirt to pick them up, just as the lowest of the mob do -for the shillings or the pence thrown among them by a successful -candidate at a contested election.” - -In this rush there must always be a host of genius and talent neglected -or overlooked; and this from various causes, some of which have been -thus sketched by a living novelist, accustomed to see far beyond most of -his literary brethren: - - In all men who have devoted themselves to any study, or any art, - with sufficient pains to attain a certain degree of excellence, - there must be a fund of energy immeasurably above that of the - ordinary herd. Usually, this energy is concentred on the objects of - their professional ambition, and leaves them, therefore, apathetic - to the other pursuits of men. But where those objects are denied, - where the stream has not its legitimate vent, the energy, irritated - and aroused, possesses the whole being; and if not wasted on - desultory schemes, or if not purified by conscience and principle, - becomes a dangerous and destructive element in the social system, - through which it wanders in riot and disorder. Hence, in all wise - monarchies—nay, in all well-constituted states—the peculiar care - with which channels are opened for every art and every science; - hence the honour paid to their cultivators by subtle and thoughtful - statesmen, who, perhaps, for themselves, see nothing in a picture - but coloured canvas—nothing in a problem but an ingenious puzzle. No - state is ever more in danger than when the talent which should be - consecrated to peace has no occupation but political intrigue or - personal advancement. Talent unhonoured is talent at war with - men.[93] - -Reliance upon family influence with persons in high stations is but a -poor dependence.[94] We happen to know a large family of sons unprovided -for, who have been calculating for years upon the influence of a -maid-of-honour with her relative, the Premier. But ministers who have -the good things to give away are often so pressed by their political -supporters, that their own connexions are made to yield. The late Lord -Melbourne was proverbially a good-natured man; but in a case of the -above kind he acted with a sense of duty more stringent than might have -been expected. It appears that Lord John Russell had applied to Lord -Melbourne for some provision for one of the sons of the poet Moore; and -here is the Premier’s reply: - - “My dear John,—I return you Moore’s letter. I shall be ready to do - what you like about it when we have the means. I think whatever is - done should be done for Moore himself. This is more distinct, - direct, and intelligible. Making a small provision for young men is - hardly justifiable; and it is of all things the most prejudicial to - themselves. They think what they have much larger than it really is; - and they make no exertion. The young should never hear any language - but this: ‘You have your own way to make, and it depends upon your - own exertions whether you starve or not.’—Believe me, - &c. MELBOURNE.”[95] - -The foundation of the Sidmouth Peerage is traceable to one of those -fortunate turns which have much to do with worldly success. It is -related that while Lord Chatham was residing at Hayes, in Kent, his -first coachman being taken ill, the postillion was sent for the family -doctor; but not finding him, the messenger returned, bringing with him -Mr. Addington, then a practitioner in the place, who, by permission of -Lord Chatham, saw the coachman, and reported his ailment. His lordship -was so pleased with Mr. Addington, that he employed him as apothecary -for the servants, and then for himself; and, Lady Hester Stanhope tells -us, “finding he spoke good sense on medicine, and then on politics, he -at last made him his physician.” Dr. Addington subsequently practised in -the metropolis, then retired to Reading, and there married; and in 1757 -was born his eldest son, Henry Addington, who was educated at Winchester -and Oxford, and called to the Bar in 1784. Through his father’s -connexion with the family of Lord Chatham, an intimacy had grown up -between young Addington and William Pitt when they were boys. Pitt was -now First Minister of the Crown, and through his influence Addington -entered upon his long political career, and became in very few years -Prime Minister of England: his administration was brief; but he was -raised to the Peerage in 1805, and held various offices until 1824, when -he retired. Lord Sidmouth was an unpopular minister, and not a man of -striking talent; but his aptitude for official business was great. He -survived until 1844, when he was succeeded by his eldest son, the -present Viscount, in holy orders. - -The origin of Lord Liverpool is scarcely less striking. The father of -this statesman was Mr. Robert Jenkinson, a man of no patrimony, but who, -by his application and aptitude for State affairs, gave lustre to his -name. In 1778 he succeeded Lord Barrington as Secretary-at-War: he rose -at last to be Earl of Liverpool; and his son, the second Earl, to be -fifteen years First Lord of the Treasury. - -Another instance of successful integrity in Official Life is presented -by the Right Hon. George Rose, one of the most valuable public servants -which this country has known,—“an able, clear-headed, straightforward -man of business, whose steady industry, devoted for years to the service -of the State, won for him, and most deservedly, not only political -importance, but the personal regard of his sovereign, and indeed of all -who knew him.”[96] He was, in early life, purser of a ship-of-war, where -his abilities became known to the Earl of Sandwich, by whom he was -recommended to Lord North, who gave him an appointment in the Treasury: -he was a man of frugal habits, and often ate his mutton-chop at the Cat -and Bagpipes tavern, at the corner of Downing-street; _pari passu_, he -was one of the early encouragers of Savings-Banks. He was the sincere -and devoted friend of Pitt, whose personal character and administrative -zeal are nobly vindicated by the recent publication of Mr. Rose’s -Diaries and Correspondence. In 1777 he superintended the publication of -the Journals of the House of Lords, in thirty-one folio volumes, from -which time he rarely failed to be employed in a public capacity by -successive administrations. In the intervals of his heavy official -duties, he was enabled to write several works upon political and -administrative questions of importance. - -John Barrow, born in a lowly cottage at Dragley Beck, in Lancashire, -rose, by his own earnest industry, to the responsible post of a -Secretary to the Admiralty, for forty years, under thirteen -administrations. When sixteen years old, he made a voyage in a whaler to -Greenland; he next taught mathematics in a school at Greenwich. He -attended Lord Macartney in his celebrated embassy to China, and took -charge of the philosophical instruments carried out as presents to the -Emperor of China; of this journey Barrow subsequently published an -account in a quarto volume. He was next appointed Secretary to Lord -Macartney, Governor of the Cape of Good Hope; and during his leisure Mr. -Barrow, in various journeys, collected materials for a volume of -_Travels in South Africa_, which he published on his return to England. -Throughout his Admiralty secretaryship he was indefatigable in promoting -the progress of geographical or scientific knowledge, especially in -recommending to the governments under which he served various voyages to -the Arctic Regions. He was a man of untiring industry, and devoted his -leisure to literature and scientific pursuits: he published various -works; contributed 195 articles to the _Quarterly Review_; and at the -age of eighty-three (one year before his death) wrote his Autobiography. -His public services had been rewarded by a baronetcy in 1835; and -shortly after his death, in 1848, upon the lofty Hill of Hoad, near to -the humble cottage in which Sir John Barrow was born, there was erected, -by public subscription, to his memory, a sea-mark tower, as a record of -what noble distinction may be earned in this happy country by -well-directed energy and strictly moral worth. - - --------------------- -Footnote 93: - - Sir E. L. Bulwer Lytton’s _Zanoni_. - -Footnote 94: - - Family reputation is generally considered but an insecure stock to - begin the world with: nevertheless there is much truth in the - experience of Lord Mahon (now Earl Stanhope), who says: “In public - life I have seen full as many men promoted for their father’s talents - as for their own.” - -Footnote 95: - - This letter is quoted in Mr. Smiles’s _Self-Help_. - -Footnote 96: - - _Notes and Queries._ - - ---------------------------- - - - OFFICIAL QUALIFICATIONS. - -Swift’s happy illustration of a frequent cause of failure, drawn in the -reign of Queen Anne,—whose administrators were principally eminent -scholars,—is scarcely so applicable in our time. Men of great parts are -often unfortunate in the management of public business, because they are -apt to go out of the common road by the quickness of their imagination. -This Swift once said to Lord Bolingbroke, and desired he would observe -that the clerk in his office used a sort of ivory knife with a blunt -edge to divide a sheet of paper, which never failed to cut it even, only -requiring a steady hand; whereas, if they should make use of a sharp -penknife, the sharpness would make it go often out of the crease, and -disfigure the paper. - -A model Court-letter has been preserved by singular accident. When Swift -was looking out for the prebend and sinecure of Dr. South, who was then -very infirm, he received the following letter from Lord Halifax, to whom -Addison had communicated Swift’s expectations: - - “_October 6, 1709._ - - “Sir,—Our friend Mr. Addison telling me that he was to write to you - to-night, I could not let his packet go away without letting you - know how much I am concerned to find them returned without you. I am - quite ashamed, for myself and my friends, to see you left in a place - so incapable of testing you; and to see so much merit, and so great - qualities, unrewarded by those who are sensible of them. Mr. Addison - and I are entered into a new confederacy, never to give over the - pursuit, nor to cease reminding those who can serve you, till your - worth is placed in that light it ought to shine in. Dr. South holds - out still, but he cannot be immortal. The situation of his prebend - would make me doubly concerned in serving you; and upon all - occasions that shall offer, I will be your constant solicitor, your - sincere admirer, and your unalterable friend.—I am your most humble - and obedient servant, - - HALIFAX.” - -Sir W. Scott notes: “This letter from Lord Halifax, the celebrated and -almost professed patron of learning, is a curiosity in its way, being a -perfect model of a courtier’s correspondence with a man of -letters—condescending, obliging, and probably utterly unmeaning. Dr. -Swift wrote thus on the back of the letter: ‘_I kept this letter as a -true original of courtiers and court promises;_’ and, on the first leaf -of a small printed book, entitled _Poésies Chrétiennes de Mons. -Jollivet_, he wrote these words: ‘Given me by my Lord Halifax, May 3, -1709. I begged it of him, and desired him to remember it was the only -_favour_ I ever received from him or his party.’” Dr. South, it should -be added, survived until 1716, and then died, aged 83. - -Diplomatic Handwriting has been a point of some moment with ministers, -but has been tested in some strange varieties. Lord Palmerston, who was -so long Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, was very particular as -to hand-writing, and the style in use in the Foreign-office is -attributable chiefly to him, but partly to Mr. Canning, who laid down -the rule that not more than ten lines should be put into a page of -foolscap. The handwriting of the Foreign-office is peculiar: the letters -are to be formed in a particular way, the writing to be large and -upright, and the words well apart, so as to be easily legible; it is not -what a writing-master would teach as a good hand, and a clerk has to -acquire it in the Office. The Foreign-office has been able to boast of -the best handwriting in the public service; but it is not so good as it -was formerly, owing to the great pressure for quick writing in order to -prepare papers that come down in the afternoon to go abroad the same -evening. A question put by Mr. Layard implied that he had heard of -despatches received from some of our ministers abroad so ill-written -that the originals could not be sent to her Majesty, and copies had to -be made for the purpose. Mr. Hammond, of the Foreign office, states that -this could certainly not have occurred of late years; but he has known -two ambassadors of ours whose handwriting was the most difficult to read -that it is possible to conceive. - - ---------------------------- - - - PUBLIC SPEAKING. - -The art of speaking well is unquestionably one of the showiest -qualifications for public life; although the drawback of unsoundness may -be as common now as when it was classically expressed: _Satis -eloquentiæ, sapientiæ parum_. Little or no attention has been bestowed -in modern times on oratory as a separate branch of study; and eloquence -has come to be more admired as one of the rare gifts of nature, than -sought after as one of the fruits of art. The diffusion of opinions and -arguments by means of the press has perhaps contributed in some degree -to the present neglect of oratory; for a speaker is mainly known to the -public through the press, and it is often more important to him to be -_read_ than to be _heard:_ the eloquence of the newspaper—that is, the -accomplishment of reporting—is the best oratory of our times; but the -following experiences may be useful. - -First, of one of the greatest orators of antiquity—Demosthenes. Those -who expect to find in his style of oratory the fervid and impassioned -language of a man carried away by his feelings to the prejudice of his -judgment, will be disappointed. He is said not to have been a ready -speaker, and to have required preparation. All his orations bear the -marks of an effort to convince the understanding rather than to work on -the passions of his hearers. And this is the highest praise. Men may be -_persuaded_ by splendid imagery, well-chosen words, and appeals to their -passions; but to convince by a calm and clear address, when the speaker -has no unfair advantage of person or of manner, and calls to his aid -none of the tricks of rhetoric,—this is what Cicero calls the Oratory of -Demosthenes, the ideal model of true eloquence.[97] - -Demosthenes laboured under great physical disadvantages: he was -naturally of a weak constitution, had a feeble voice, an indistinct -articulation, and a shortness of breath. To remedy these defects, he -climbed up hills with pebbles in his mouth, he declaimed on the -sea-shore, or with a sword hung so as to strike his shoulders when he -made an uncouth gesture. He is also said to have shut himself up at -times in a cave underground for study’s sake, and this for months -together. - -Next, of a great master of eloquence in our own times—Charles James Fox, -whom Lord Ossory describes as “one of the most extraordinary men that -ever existed.” He was very young when his father, Henry, Lord Holland, -finished his political career; but hearing from his childhood a constant -conversation upon political subjects and the occurrences in the House of -Commons, he was, both by nature and education, formed for a statesman. -“His father delighted to cultivate his talents by argumentation and -reasoning with him upon all subjects. He took his seat in the House of -Commons before he was twenty-one, and very shortly began to show the -dawn of those prodigious talents which he has since displayed. He was -much caressed by the then Ministry, and appointed a Lord of the -Admiralty, and soon promoted to the Treasury. Lord North (which he must -ever since have repented) was inclined to turn him out upon some trivial -occasion or difference; and soon afterwards the fatal quarrel with -America commenced, Mr. Fox constantly opposing the absurd measures of -administration, and rising by degrees to be the first man the House of -Commons ever saw. His opposition continued from 1773 to 1782, when the -Administration was fairly overturned by his powers; for even the great -weight of ability, property, and influence that composed the Opposition, -could never have effected that great work, if he had not acquired the -absolute possession and influence of the House of Commons. He certainly -deserved their confidence; for his political conduct had been fair, -open, honest, and decided, against the system so fatally adopted by the -Court. He resisted every temptation to be brought over by that system, -however flattering to his ambition; for he must soon have been at the -head of every thing. But I do not know whether his abilities were not -the least extraordinary part about him. Perhaps that is saying too much; -but he was full of good nature, good temper, and facility of -disposition, disinterestedness with regard to himself, at the same time -that his mind was fraught with the most noble sentiments and ideas upon -all possible subjects. His understanding had the greatest scope I can -form an idea of, his memory the most wonderful, his judgment the most -true, his reasoning the most profound and acute, his eloquence the most -rapid and persuasive.” - -Scarcely any person has ever become a great debater without long -practice and many failures. It was by slow degrees, as Burke said, that -Fox became the most brilliant and powerful debater that ever lived. Fox -himself attributed his own success to the resolution which he formed -when very young, of speaking, well or ill, at least once every night. -“During five whole sessions,” he used to say, “I spoke every night but -one; and I regret only that I did not speak that night too.” - -The model of a debate is that given by Milton in the opening of the -second book of _Paradise Lost_. - -Mr. Sharp tells of the first meetings of a society at a public school, -in which two or three evenings were consumed in debating whether the -floor should be covered with a sail-cloth or a carpet; and better -practice was gained in these unimportant discussions than in those that -soon followed,—on liberty, slavery, passive obedience, and tyrannicide. -It has been truly said, that nothing is so unlike a battle as a review. - -Sir E. Bulwer Lytton has well illustrated a defect even in great -orators, namely, nervousness; he says: “I doubt whether there has been -any public speaker of the highest order of eloquence who has not felt an -anxiety or apprehension, more or less actually painful, before rising to -address an audience upon any very important subject on which he has -meditated beforehand. This nervousness will, indeed, probably be -proportioned to the amount of previous preparation, even though the -necessities of reply, or the changeful temperament which characterises -public assemblies, may compel the orator to modify, alter, perhaps -wholly reject, what, in previous preparation, he had designed to say. -The fact of preparation itself had impressed him with the dignity of the -subject—with the responsibilities that devolve on an advocate from whom -much is expected, on whose individual utterance results affecting the -interests of many may depend. His imagination had been roused and -warmed, and there is no imagination where there is no sensibility. Thus -the orator had mentally surveyed, as it were, at a distance, the -loftiest height of his argument; and now, when he is about to ascend to -it, the awe of the altitude is felt.” - -The late Marquis of Lansdowne one day remarked to Thomas Moore, that he -hardly ever spoke in the House of Lords without feeling the approaches -of some loss of self-possession, and found that the only way to surmount -it was to talk on at all hazards. He added, what appears highly -probable, that those _commonplaces_ which most men accustomed to public -speaking have ready cut and dry, to bring in on all occasions, were, he -thought, in general used by them as a mode of getting out of those blank -intervals, when they do not know _what_ to say next, but, in the mean -time, must say _something_. - -Mr. John Scott Russell, the eminent engineer, gives the following -practical hints: “In a large room, nearly square, the best place to -speak from is near one corner, with the voice directed diagonally to the -opposite corner. In all rooms of common forms, the lowest pitch of voice -that will reach across the room will be most audible. In all such rooms, -it is better to speak along the length of the room than across it; and a -low ceiling will, _cæteris paribus_, convey the sound better than a high -one. It is better, generally, to speak from pretty near a wall or -pillar, than far away from it. It is desirable that the speaker should -speak in the key-note of the room, and evenly, but not loud.” - -To be well acquainted with the subject is of prime importance. Malone -relates an amusing instance of failure in this respect in one of our -greatest orators. Lord Chatham, when Mr. Pitt, on some occasion made a -very long and able speech in the Privy Council relative to some naval -matter. Every one present was struck by the force of his eloquence. Lord -Anson, who was by no means eloquent, being then at the head of the -Admiralty, and differing entirely in opinion from Mr. Pitt, got up, and -only said these words: “My Lords, Mr. Secretary is very eloquent, and -has stated his own opinion very plausibly. I am no orator; and all I -shall say is, that he knows nothing at all of what he has been talking -about.” - -Mr. Flood, the Irish orator, being told that he seemed to argue with -somewhat less of his usual vigour when engaged on the wrong side of the -question, happily replied that he “could not escape from the force of -his own understanding.” This must be the origin of the shrewd -observation, that some clever persons are “educated beyond their own -understanding.” - -Mr. Brougham, writing to the father of Thomas Babington Macaulay when -the latter was at Cambridge University, urged the following, with a view -to the great promise for public speaking which Macaulay then possessed, -and of which Lord Grey had spoken in terms of the highest praise. “He -takes his accounts from his son,” says Mr. Brougham; “but from all I -know, and have learnt in other quarters, I doubt not that his judgment -is well formed. Now, of course, you destine him for the Bar; and, -assuming that this, and the public objects incidental to it, are in his -views, I would fain impress upon you (and through you, upon him) a truth -or two which experience has made me aware of, and which I would have -given a great deal to have been acquainted with earlier in life from the -experience of others. - -“1. The beginning of the art is to acquire a habit of _easy speaking_; -and in whatever way this can be had (which individual inclination or -accident will generally direct, and may safely be allowed to do so), it -must be had. Now, I differ from all other doctors of rhetoric in this: I -say, let him first of all learn to speak safely and fluently; as well -and as sensibly as he can, no doubt, but at any rate let him learn to -speak. This is to eloquence or good speaking what the being able to talk -in a child is to correct grammatical speech. It is the requisite -foundation, and on it you must build. Moreover, it can only be acquired -young: therefore, let it by all means, and at any sacrifice, be gotten -hold of forthwith. But in acquiring it, every sort of slovenly error -will also be acquired. It must be got by a habit of easy writing—which, -as Wyndham said, proved hard reading; by a custom of talking much in -company; by debating in speaking societies, with little attention to -rule, and more love of saying something at any rate, than of saying any -thing well. I can even suppose that more attention is paid to the matter -in such discussions than to the manner of saying it; yet still to say it -easily, _ad libitum_, to say what you choose, and what you have to say, -this is the first requisite; to acquire which every thing else must for -the present be sacrificed. - -“2. The next step is the grand one: to convert this style of easy -speaking into chaste eloquence. And here there is but one rule. I do -earnestly entreat your son to set daily and nightly before him the Greek -models. First of all, he may look to the best modern speeches (as -probably he has already); but he must by no means stop here; if he would -be a great orator, he must go at once to the fountain-head, and be -familiar with every one of the great orations of Demosthenes. I take for -granted that he knows those of Cicero by heart; they are very beautiful, -but not very useful, except, perhaps, the _Milo, pro Ligario_, and one -or two more: but the Greek must positively be the model; and merely -reading it, as boys do, won’t do at all; he must enter into the spirit -of each speech, thoroughly know the positions of the parties, follow -each turn of the argument, and make the absolutely perfect and most -chaste and severe composition familiar in his mind. His taste will -improve every time he reads and repeats to himself (for he should have -the fine passages by heart); and he will learn how much may be done by -the skilful use of a few words, and a vigorous rejection of all -superfluities. In this view I hold a familiar knowledge of Dante as -being next to Demosthenes. It is in vain to say that imitation of these -models won’t do for our times. First, I do not counsel any imitation, -but only an imbibing of the same spirit. Secondly, I know from -experience that nothing is half so successful in these times (bad though -they be) as what had been formed on the Greek models. I use a very poor -instance in giving my own experience; but I do assure you, that both in -courts of law and Parliament, and even in mobs, I have never made so -much play (to use a very modern phrase) as when I was almost translating -from the Greek. I composed the peroration of my speech for the Queen in -the Lords, after reading and repeating Demosthenes for three or four -weeks, and I composed it over twenty times at least; and it certainly -succeeded in a very extraordinary degree, and far above any merits of -its own. This leads me to remark, that though speaking with writing -beforehand is very well until the habit of any speech is acquired, yet, -after that, he can never write too much: this is quite clear. It is -laborious, no doubt, and it is more difficult beyond comparison than -speaking offhand; but it is necessary to perfect oratory, and at any -rate it is necessary to acquire the habit of correct diction. But I go -further, and say, even to the end of a man’s life, he must prepare word -for word most of his fine passages. Now, would he be a great orator or -no? In other words, would he have almost absolute power of doing good to -mankind in a free country or no? So he wills this, he must follow these -rules.—Believe me truly yours, - - H. BROUGHAM.” - -A contemporary journalist[98] has well observed of the oratory of the -present day: “With all its great defects, which are perceptible enough -to any cultivated hearer, Public Speaking is one of the greatest treats -you can provide for the middle and higher population of one of our -towns. The extempore oration is of course often a rough production; it -does not at all come up to our ideas of the perfection of language, but -it fascinates and fetters attention as being extempore,—as displaying -the energy of an actual creation on the spot. Lord Derby’s is perhaps -the best oratorical language we have,—we mean when he speaks his best; -it is properly different from book-language, and yet does not run into -the technical inflation, and conventional bombast, and professional -phraseology, which are the dangers of oratory. Mr. Gladstone’s is -Parliamentary English—a very surprising and brilliant creation, but one -that has gone through a medium of technicality or conventionalism, and -does not come straight from the fount of language. The Bishop of -Oxford’s oratory is open to the criticism that it is overstrained, and -produces vivid pictorial effects at the cost of simplicity. This is no -very severe or invidious criticism, because in nine cases out of ten an -orator who selects an exaggerated phrase selects it because a simpler -one does not come to hand. A ready and inexhaustible command of the -simplest and truest words is, of course, the very triumph of oratory, -and a most rare triumph. Still, with all its defects, oratory is -oratory: it is an uncommon exhibition of power; it creates interest, and -sustains attention as such; and we are not sorry that our provincial -towns have now the opportunity of hearing most of our leading public -speakers.” - -Akin to the present subject is the art of presiding over a festive -company, for which Sir Walter Scott has left these few simple practical -rules: - - 1st. Always hurry the bottle round for five or six rounds, without - prosing yourself, or permitting others to prose. A slight fillip of - wine inclines people to be pleased, and removes the nervousness - which prevents men from speaking—disposes them, in short, to be - amusing, and to be amused. - - 2d. Push on, keep moving! as young Rapid says. Do not think of - saying fine things—nobody cares for them any more than for fine - music, which is often too liberally bestowed on such occasions. - Speak at all ventures, and attempt the _mot pour rire_. You will - find people satisfied with wonderfully indifferent jokes, if you can - but hit the taste of the company, which depends much on its - character. Even a very high party, primed with all the cold irony - and _non est tanti_ feelings, or no feelings of fashionable folks, - may be stormed by a jovial, rough, round, and ready præses. Choose - your text with discretion—the sermon may be as you like. Should a - drunkard or an ass break in with any thing out of joint, if you can - parry it with a jest, good and well; if not, do not exert your - serious authority, unless it is something very bad. The authority - even of a chairman ought to be very cautiously exercised. With - patience, you will have the support of every one. - - 3d. When you have drunk a few glasses to play the good fellow and - banish modesty (if you are unlucky enough to have such a troublesome - companion), then beware of the cup too much. Nothing is so - ridiculous as a drunken preses. - - Lastly, always speak short, and _Skeoch doch na skiel_—cut a tale - with a drink. - - --------------------- -Footnote 97: - - _Orat._ c. 7. - -Footnote 98: - - The _Times_. - - ---------------------------- - ---------------------------- - - - OPPORTUNITY. - -To _bide the time_ is often the means, though slow, of reaping success. -Late in the last century, a printseller settled in a leading street of -the artistic locality of Soho: during the first six weeks he kept shop, -his receipts were not as many pence; nevertheless he was civil and -obliging to all callers and inquirers, to whom, in the printselling -business, customers are a very small proportion. This obliging -disposition was his main investment, and his shop grew to be the resort -of print-collectors of all grades—from the rich duke to the hard-working -engraver; he became wealthy, and died bequeathing to his family a -considerable fortune, and the finest stock of prints in the metropolis. - -Extraordinary instances have occurred of latent genius having been -discovered by some lucky accident, and fostered to high position. Isaac -Ware, the architect and editor of _Palladio_, was originally a -chimney-sweeper, and, when a boy, was seated one day in front of -Whitehall-palace, upon the pavement, whereon he had drawn in chalk the -elevation of a building. This attracted the notice of a gentleman in -passing, and led him to inquire who had chalked out the building. The -boy replied, it was his own work; the unknown patron then took the lad -to the master-sweeper to whom he was apprenticed, purchased his -indenture, and forthwith had little Ware educated: he rose to be one of -the leading architects of his day, and among other edifices he built -Chesterfield-house, in South Audley-street, one of the handsomest -mansions in the metropolis. Ware died in 1766; and, it is said, retained -the stain of _soot_ in his face to the day of his death. - - ---------------------------- - - - MEN OF BUSINESS. - -Our forefathers appear to have conveyed much of their instructions in -Business Life by way of apophthegm. In the _Spectator_, No. 109, it is -observed that “the man proper for the business of money and the -advancement of gain, speaking in the general, is of a sedate, plain, -good understanding, not apt to go out of his way, but so behaving -himself at home that business may come to him. Sir William Turner, that -valuable citizen, has left behind him a most excellent rule, and couched -it in a very few words, suited to the meanest capacity. He would say, -‘Keep your shop, and your shop will keep you.’” [Alderman Thomas, the -mercer in Paternoster-row, made this one of the mottoes of his shop.] -“It must be confessed, that if a man of a great genius could add -steadiness to his vivacities, or substitute slower men of fidelity to -transact the methodical part of his affairs, such an one would outstrip -the rest of the world: but business and trade are not to be managed by -the same heads which write poetry and make plans for the conduct of life -in general.” - -However, Bacon thought otherwise. “Let no man,” he says, “fear lest -learning should expulse business; nay, rather, it will keep and defend -the possessions of the mind against idleness and pleasure, which -otherwise, at unawares, may enter to the prejudice both of business and -pleasure.” - -The proper time—“_rerum est omnium primum_.” “To choose time,” says -Bacon, “is to save time; and an unseasonable motion is but beating the -air. There be three parts of business: the preparation; the debate, or -examination; and the perfection; whereof, if you look for despatch, let -the middle only be the work of many, and the first and last the work of -few.” - -Sir Robert Walpole had in his mind a man not apt to go out of his way, -when he described Henry Legge, his Chancellor of the Exchequer, as -having “very little rubbish in his head;” meaning that he was a -practical, useful man of business. - -There are few persons who have not met with cases of hypochondriacs who -have been relieved and made more happy by useful and disinterested -occupation in promoting the welfare of others. Dr. Heberden used to -relate a striking case of this kind. Captain Blake was a hypochondriac -for several years, and during that time every week or two he consulted -the Doctor, who had not only prescribed all the medicines likely to -correct disease arising from bodily infirmity, but every argument which -humanity and good sense could suggest for the comfort of his mind; but -in vain. At length Dr. Heberden heard no more of his patient, till after -a considerable interval he found that Captain Blake had formed a project -for conveying fish to London, from some of the seaports in the west, by -means of light carts adapted for expeditious land-carriage. The -arrangement and various occupations of the mind in carrying out this -object entirely superseded all sense of his former malady, which from -that time never returned. - -Innumerable are the instances of men retiring from business in middle -life, yet yearning to return to it,—so strong is the habit of -occupation. We all remember the story of the city tallow-chandler, who -retired into the suburbs, having sold his business, with the proviso -that he should come to town on a melting-day. One of the partners of a -large publishing house, some years since, retired into Wales; but did -not long survive the change, to enjoy his well-earned fortune. Another -instance occurs: a tradesman retired from business with a fortune, and -travelled for some time to divert _ennui_; but this not succeeding, he -returned to active life in manufacturing and patenting lamps and -kettles, night-lights and potato-saucepans, and, in such small -ingenuities, finds himself happy again. - -The late Mr. Charles Tilt, the well-known publisher in Fleet-street, -retired from business in middle life; travelled many years in each -quarter of the world; and wrote a pleasant little book, entitled _The -Boat and the Caravan_. He had been articled to Longman and Co.; then -lived with Mr. Hatchard, in Piccadilly; and next established himself -with great success. Notwithstanding his long retirement, his business -habits never forsook him: he generously acted as trustee in the -settlement of the affairs of his late partner, Mr. David Bogue, who had -succeeded to the entire concern in Fleet-street; and he next officiated -as executor to the estate of the late Mr. Hatchard, with whom he had -formerly lived. Mr. Tilt died in 1862, leaving the large property of -180,000_l._ - - ---------------------------- - - - - -CHARACTER THE BEST SECURITY. - -“I owe my success in business chiefly to you,” said a stationer to a -paper-maker, as they were settling a large account; “but let me ask how -a man of your caution came to give credit so freely to a beginner with -my slender means?” “Because,” replied the paper-maker, “at whatever hour -in the morning I passed to my business, I always observed you without -your coat at yours.” Upon this Mr. Walker, the police-magistrate, -observes: “I knew both parties. Different men will have different -degrees of success, and every man must expect to experience ebbs and -flows; but I fully believe that no one in this country, of whatever -condition, who is really attentive, and, what is of great importance, -who lets it appear that he is so, can fail in the long-run. Pretence is -ever bad; but there are many who obscure their good qualities by a -certain carelessness, or even an affected indifference, which deprives -them of the advantages they would otherwise infallibly reap, and then -they complain of the injustice of the world. The man who conceals or -disguises his merit might as well expect to be thought clean in his -person if he chose to go covered with filthy rags. The world will not, -and cannot in great measure, judge but by appearances; and worth must -stamp itself, if it hopes to pass current, even against baser metal: - - Worth makes the man, want of it the fellow; - The rest is all but leather or prunello.—_Pope._” - - ---------------------------- - - - ENGINEERS AND MECHANICIANS. - -“No man can look back on the last twenty or thirty years without feeling -that it has been _the age of Engineers and Mechanicians_. The profession -has, in that period of time, done much to change the aspect of human -affairs; for what agency during that period, single or combined, can be -compared in its effects, or in its tendency towards the amelioration of -the condition of mankind, with the establishment of railroads, of the -electric telegraph, and to the improvement in steam navigation?” - - “The wide range of the profession of an Engineer requires the - assistance of many departments of science and art, and must call - into employment important branches of manufacture. He can perform no - great work without the aid of a great variety of workmen; and it is - on their strength and skill, as well as on their scientific - direction, that the perfection of his work will depend. The personal - experience of one individual cannot fit him for the exigencies of a - profession which is ever extending its range of subjects, and is - constantly dealing with new and complex phenomena,—phenomena which - are all the more difficult to deal with from the fact, that they are - generally surrounded by such variable circumstances as render them - incapable of being submitted to precise measurement and calculation, - or of being made amenable to the deductions of exact science. - Consequently, nothing is more certain than that he who wishes to - reach the perfection of his art must avail himself of the experience - of others as well as his own, and that he will not unfrequently find - the sum of the whole little enough to guide him. And let no - inventive genius suppose that his own tendencies or capabilities - relieve him from this necessity. - - “There is no such thing as discovery and invention, in the sense - which is sometimes attached to the words. Men do not suddenly - discover new worlds, or invent new machines, or find new metals. - Some indeed may be, and are, better fitted than others for such - purposes; but the progress of discovery is, and always has been, - much the same. _There is nothing really worth having that man has - obtained that has not been the result of a combined and gradual - progress of investigation._ A gifted individual comes across some - old footmark, and stumbles on a chain of previous research and - inquiry. He meets, for instance, with a machine, the result of much - previous labour; he modifies it, pulls it to pieces, constructs and - reconstructs it, and, by further trial and experiment, he arrives at - the long-sought-for result.” - -Such were the emphatic words of Mr. Hawkshaw, F.R.S., in opening his -Address on his election as President of the Institution of Civil -Engineers, session 1861-62. It would not be difficult to illustrate the -President’s data by many bright instances of their truth. But we -remember too well the sad story of Myddleton bringing the New River to -our metropolis, a very early engineering labour, who, although he died -not so poor as is usually represented, yet his family fell into decay. -Almost equally familiar is the story of the life of George Stephenson, -the maturer of the locomotive engine; and the career of his son, Robert -Stephenson, the constructor of the London and Birmingham Railway, and -second only to his father as a railway engineer. George learned to read -and write at night-schools, and “figuring” by the engine-fires. As -Robert grew up, his father was enabled to send him to Edinburgh -University, where he acquired some knowledge in mathematics and geology: -these acquisitions afforded subjects for comment and discussion between -him and his father, and were of valuable use to both in their future -joint avocations; and when the father had retired, in the sphere of -railways Robert was recognised as the foremost man, the safest guide, -and the most active worker. In the great railway mania of 1844, he was -engineer for thirty-three new schemes; and his income was large, beyond -any previous instance of engineering gain. His other great railway -achievements were, the High-level Bridge at Newcastle; the Chester and -Holyhead line; he constructed the Britannia and Conway tubular bridges, -and designed the tubular bridges for Canada and Egypt. These intense -labours brought him to his grave in his fifty-sixth year. It has been -truly said of Robert Stephenson: - - “He almost worshiped his father’s memory, and said he owed all to - his father’s training, his example, and his character; and he - declared in public: ‘It is my great pride to remember that, whatever - may have been done, and however extensive may have been my own - connexion in the railway development, all I owe, and all I have done - is primarily due, to the parent whose memory I cherish and revere.’ - Like his father, he was eminently practical, and yet always open to - the influence and guidance of correct theory. - - “In society Robert Stephenson was simple, unobtrusive, and modest; - but charming, and even fascinating, in an eminent degree. Sir John - Lawrence has said of him, that he was, of all others, the man he - most delighted to meet in England, he was so manly, yet gentle, and - withal so great. - - “His great wealth enabled him to perform many generous acts in a - right noble and yet modest manner, not letting his right hand know - what his left hand did.”[99] - -In the life of Thomas Telford, we have another striking instance of a -man who, by the force of natural talent, unaided save by uprightness and -persevering industry, raised himself from low estate to take his stand -among the master-spirits of the age. He was born in 1757, in -Dumfriesshire, sent to the parish-school, and employed as a -shepherd-boy; in his leisure, delighted to read the books lent him by -his village friends. At the age of fourteen he was apprenticed to a -stone-mason, and for several years worked on bridges and -stone-buildings, village-churches, and manses, in his native district. -In 1780 he went to Edinburgh, and for two years closely attended to -architecture and drawing. He then removed to London, and worked upon the -quadrangle of Somerset House, under Sir William Chambers, as architect. -His next practice was in the construction of graving-docks, wharf-walls, -and similar engineering works; and he built above forty bridges in -Shropshire. His greatest works are, the Ellesmere Canal, 103 miles in -length, with its wonderful aqueduct-bridges; the Caledonian Canal, which -cost a million of money; the Bedford Level, and other important drainage -works; 1000 miles of Highland roads and 1200 bridges; St. Katherine’s -Docks, London, constructed with unexampled rapidity; and the great road -from London to Holyhead, and the works connected with it. The Menai -Suspension Bridge is a noble example of his boldness in designing, and -practical skill in executing a novel and difficult work; and it is -related of him that, just previous to the fixing of the last bar, he -knelt in private prayer to the Giver of all good for the successful -completion of the great work. Telford left an account of his labours of -more than half a century; yet he found time to teach himself Latin, -French, Italian, and German. He was the first president of the -Institution of Civil Engineers, in whose theatre is a noble portrait of -him; and in Westminster Abbey, where he is interred, is a marble statue -of the Eskdale shepherd-boy, whose works, in number, magnitude, and -usefulness, are unrivalled. - -John Rennie, who designed three of the noblest bridges in the world, in -addition to other great engineering works, was born in 1761, in the -county of East Lothian. He learned his first lessons in mechanics in the -workshop of a millwright; before he was eleven years old he had -constructed a windmill, a pile-engine, and a steam-engine; he next -learned elementary mathematics and mechanics, and drawing machinery and -architecture, and attended lectures on mechanical philosophy and -chemistry. His greatest works are the Plymouth Breakwater; Waterloo, -Southwark, and London bridges; the London, East and West India Docks; -and great steam-engines; his principal undertakings having cost forty -millions sterling. He was rarely occupied in business less than twelve -hours a day; he seldom illustrated his information with any other -instrument than a two-foot rule, which he always carried in his pocket. -He owed his good fortune to talent, industry, prudence, perseverance, -boldness of conception, soundness of judgment, and habits of untiring -application: his works were indeed executed for posterity. - -Sir Edward Banks, who built Rennie’s three stupendous bridges, was a -labourer at Chipstead on the Merstham railway, some sixty years since: -by his own natural abilities, which had not been cultivated to any -extent, and by his integrity and perseverance, he became contractor for -public works, and acquired great wealth: and it shows the simplicity of -his nature, that, struck with the retired picturesqueness of Chipstead -churchyard, he chose it for the depository of his remains, where the -tablet to his memory bears his bust, and an arch and the three great -bridges,—the goal of his remarkable career. - -The history of the life of the elder Brunel is strangely tinged with -romance. He was born in Normandy in 1769, was early intended for the -priesthood; but when at the college of Gisors, he would steal away to -the village carpenter’s shop, and draw faces and plans, and learn to -handle tools; and one day, seeing a new tool in a cutler’s window, he -pawned his hat to purchase it. He was next sent to the ecclesiastical -seminary of St. Nicaise at Rouen; there, in his play-hours, he loved to -watch the ships along the quay; and seeing some large iron castings -landed from an English ship, he inquired, Where had they come from? and -on being told from England, the boy exclaimed, “Ah, when I am a man, I -will go and see the country where such grand machines are made.” On his -return home, he continued his mechanical recreations; made musical -instruments; and invented a nightcap-making machine, which is still used -by the peasantry in that part of Normandy. His father now gave up all -hope of his son for the priesthood, and had him qualified to enter the -navy, and at seventeen he was nominated to a royal corvette; but while -serving there he continued his mechanical pursuits, and made for himself -a quadrant in ebony. His ship having been paid off in 1792, Brunel went -to Paris, where he nearly fell a victim to the fury of the Revolution; -but he escaped to Rouen, and thence fled to the United States, where he -landed in 1793. While at New York, the idea of his block-machinery -occurred to him. He now executed canal surveys, and designed the Park -Theatre, and superintended its erection; he was next appointed chief -engineer for New York, and there erected a cannon-foundry, with novel -contrivances for casting and boring guns. He left New York in January -1799, and landed at Falmouth in the following March: there he met his -early love, Sophia Kingdom, and the pair were shortly after united for -life. - -Brunel brought with him to England a duplicate writing and drawing -machine; a machine for twisting cotton-thread and forming it into balls; -a machine for trimmings and borders for muslins, lawns, and cambrics. -The famous block-machinery was Brunel’s next invention; then various -wood-working machinery, and machines for manufacturing shoes; and next -the Battersea saw-mills; but the failure of the two latter speculations -brought Brunel into difficulties, from which he was extricated by a -government grant of 5000_l._, in consideration of the savings by the use -of his block-machinery. He then improved the stocking-knitting machine -and steam-engine; metallic paper and crystallised tinfoil; improvements -in stereotyping and the treadmill. In engineering, he designed -suspension, swing, and other bridges, and machines for boring cannon. He -next experimented with a boat on the Thames, fitted with a double-action -engine, and made his first voyage in it to Margate in 1814, when he -narrowly escaped personal violence from the proprietors of the -sailing-boats. Marine engines and paddle-wheels were next improved by -Brunel; and these were followed by his carbonic-acid gas engine, which -proved too costly a machine. Then came the crowning event of his life, -the construction of the Thames Tunnel, taking the idea of his -excavating-machine from the boring operations of the _Teredo navalis_. -In this formidable work he was assisted by his son, Isambard Kingdom -Brunel, then only nineteen years of age; and after most perilous -operations, the tunnel was completed, and opened March 25th, 1843. This -was the engineer’s last work: as a commercial adventure it proved -disastrous, which preyed on the mind of Brunel; though he lived six -years longer, until he had attained his 81st year. - -The younger Brunel’s first great work was the Clifton Suspension -Bridge, followed by docks at Bristol and Sunderland, and several -colliery tramways. In 1835, he was appointed engineer of the Great -Western Railway, being then only about twenty-eight years of age, but -skilful and ingenious, and anxious to strike out an entirely new -course in railway engineering. He adopted the broad-gauge, then a -great and novel enterprise, but now ascertained to be unnecessary: the -works were unusually costly, and so novel that the line was called the -Grand Experimental Railway; while it rendered Brunel famous as a -railway engineer. He next attempted the atmospheric principle; but -this proved unsuccessful, and the loss exceeded half a million of -money. His last and greatest railway engineering achievements were his -“bowstring-girder” bridges at Chepstow and Saltash: the latter has two -wrought-iron tubes, each weighing upwards of 1000 tons, and the -viaduct and bridge are nearly half a mile, or 300 feet longer than the -Britannia bridge. The central Saltash pier foundations, upon solid -rock, 90 feet below the surface of the river, were laid within a -wrought-iron cylinder 37 feet in diameter and 100 feet high, and the -whole work involved six years’ toil, anxiety, and peril. - -Next, Brunel devised an iron-plated armed ship capable of withstanding -the fire of the Sebastopol forts; but his grand triumphs as a naval -engineer were, the _Great Western_, steam-ship, propelled by -paddle-wheels; and the _Great Britain_, propelled by a screw; but these -were thrown into the shade by his _Great Eastern_, combining the powers -of the paddle-wheel and the screw; and which, with the aid of Mr. Scott -Russell, its builder, was completed and launched,—the largest ship that -has ever floated. But this stupendous labour had undermined Mr. Brunel’s -health; he was seized with paralysis, and died at the comparatively -early age of fifty-three.[100] - -Of Brunel’s great engineering skill there can be no question; he loved -difficulties and engineering perils: he has been styled “the Michael -Angelo of Railways;” and his victory in “the Battle of the Gauges” -gained him extraordinary prominence in the railway world. His ruling -passion was magnitude, without regard to cost: “he was the very Napoleon -of engineers, thinking more of glory than of profit, and of victory than -of dividends.” Capitalists subscribed to his projects freely, and he put -his own savings into the same risks; if shareholders suffered, he -suffered with them; and it must be conceded that both railway travelling -and steam navigation have been greatly advanced by the speculative -ability of Mr. Brunel’s Titanic labours. - -The career of Joseph Locke, civil engineer, though less brilliant than -that of Brunel, was one of more sterling worth. He was born in -Yorkshire, in 1805, the son of a fellow-workman with George Stephenson -at the pit. Locke had little schooling, and failing in two or three -humble services, at the age of nineteen he became George Stephenson’s -pupil, and then his assistant, taking charge of the survey of railway -lines; he was appointed engineer-in-chief of the Grand Junction and -South-Western lines; and next initiated the Continental Railway system, -promoting the rapid communication between London and Paris. He was made -a chevalier and officer of the Legion of Honour, and sat in the British -Parliament for Honiton. He died at the early age of fifty-five, leaving -great wealth to his widow (a daughter of Mr. M‘Creery, the literary -printer), to form in the North a public park, and found a scholarship. - - The high celebrity of Mr. Locke was not due to the fact of his - making railways. It was, that he made them within the estimated - cost,—an achievement which would sooner or later have been attained - by the ordinary operations of capital. The Grand Junction Railway - was eventually constructed for a sum within the estimate, and at an - average cost of less than 15,000_l._ a mile. The heavy works on the - Caledonian line were completed at less than 16,000_l._ a mile. This - economical success was in a great measure owing to the adoption of a - bold system of steep gradients—an expedient which Stephenson, it - appears, disliked to the last, and which was a prevailing feature in - his active rival’s designs. Locke hated a tunnel, and with - embankments and inclines would encounter any difficulty.[101] - -Thomas Cubitt, the great metropolitan builder and contractor, was -another remarkable man of this class. He was born at Buxton, near -Norwich, in 1788. At the time of his father’s death he was nineteen -years old, and working as a journeyman carpenter. He next took a voyage -to India and back, as captain’s joiner; and, on his return to the -metropolis, with his savings began business as a master-carpenter. -Within six years he erected large workshops in Gray’s-inn-road. One of -his earliest works was building the London Institution in Moorfields. -About 1824, he began to build Tavistock-square, Gordon-square, -Woburn-place, and the adjoining streets; and next engaged to cover with -houses large portions of the Five Fields, Chelsea, of which engagement -Belgrave-square, Lowndes-square, and Chesham-place are the results.[102] -He subsequently contracted to build over the large open district between -Eaton-square and the Thames, now known as South Belgravia. He had -completed most of his large engagements, and had just built for himself -a mansion at Denbies, where he died in his sixty-seventh year, possessed -of great wealth. Through life he constantly promoted the intellectual -and moral improvement of his work-people. One of his brothers, and -partner in business, is Mr. William Cubitt, M.P., who has twice served -the office of Lord Mayor, and was, like his relative, originally a -ship’s carpenter. - -Thomas Brassey, the railway contractor, is another remarkable instance -of colossal labour. Born at Buerton in 1805, and educated at Chester, he -commenced life as a surveyor at Birkenhead; and his first railway work -was a contract to supply the stone for a viaduct of the Liverpool and -Manchester line. From this period to the present hour, he has -constructed, upon his own responsibility and credit, many hundred miles -of railway in England, Scotland, France, Spain, and Canada, at the cost -of millions of money. A striking instance of his energy and enterprise -occurred in one of his French contracts. When the Barentine viaduct, of -twenty arches, on the Rouen and Havre Railway, was nearly completed, the -work gave way, and the casualty involved a loss of 30,000_l._ Mr. -Brassey was neither morally nor legally responsible—he had repeatedly -protested against the material used in the structure; but the viaduct -was rebuilt entirely at Mr. Brassey’s cost. - -Mr. George Bidder, the engineer, presents one of the few examples of -early habits of calculation being matured to advantage. When about six -years of age, he was first introduced to the science of figures. His -father was a working man; his elder brother commenced instructing him -to count up to 10, then to 100, and there he stopped. He repeated the -process, and found that by stopping at 10, and repeating that every -time, he counted up to 100 much quicker than by going straight through -the series: he counted up to ten, then ten again = 20, 3 times 10 = -30, 4 times = 40, and so on. At this time he did not know one written -or printed figure from another, nor did he know there was such a word -as “multiply;” but, having acquired the power of counting up to 100 by -ten and by 5, he set about, in his own way, to acquire the -multiplication-table: he got a small bag of shot, which he arranged -into squares of 8 on each side, and then, on counting them, found they -amounted to 64; which fact once established, remained undisturbed in -Mr. Bidder’s mind until this day; and in this way he acquired the -whole multiplication-table up to 10 times 10, which was all he needed. -In a house opposite his father’s lived an aged blacksmith, who allowed -young Bidder to run about his workshop and blow the bellows for him, -and on winter-evenings to listen to the old man’s stories by the -forge-hearth. By practice his powers of numeration were drawn forth, -he was rewarded with halfpence, and thus he became more attached to -arithmetic. The “Calculating Boy” has now matured as an eminent -engineer; the process of reasoning, or action of the mind, by which, -when a boy, he trained himself in Mental Arithmetic, having laid the -basis of sound professional skill, which he has most beneficially -exercised in various great engineering works. - -James Walker, civil engineer, who died in 1862, aged eighty-one, was the -oldest member of the profession. He was one of the earliest members of -the Institution of Civil Engineers, succeeded Telford as President, and -filled the chair fourteen years. Mr. Walker, through his long life, was -associated with many of the greatest hydraulic works in England and -Scotland, including lighthouses, harbours, bridges, embankments, and -drainage. He had accumulated in personalty 300,000_l._, which he took -great pains to distribute by his will; for he was a kind-hearted, -generous man, and considerate and liberal to those associated with him -in his profession. - - --------------------- -Footnote 99: - - Smiles’s _Lives of the Engineers_, vol. iii. - -Footnote 100: - - He had more perilous escapes from violent death than fall to the lot - of most men. He had two narrow escapes from drowning by the river - suddenly bursting in upon the Thames-Tunnel works. During the Great - Western Railway inspection, he was one day riding a pony rapidly down - Boxhill, when the animal stumbled and fell, pitching the engineer on - his head; he was taken up for dead, but eventually recovered. One day, - when driving an engine through the Box-tunnel, he discerned some light - object standing on the same line of road along which his engine was - travelling; he turned on the full steam and dashed the object (a - contractor’s truck) into a thousand pieces. When on board the _Great - Western_ steam-ship, he fell down a hatchway into the hold, and was - nearly killed. But the most extraordinary accident which befel him - was, in showing a sleight-of-hand trick to his children, his - swallowing a half-sovereign, which dropped into his windpipe, remained - there for six weeks, when it was removed through an incision in the - windpipe, by Sir Benjamin Brodie and Mr. Key; his body was inverted, - and after a few coughs, the coin dropped into his mouth. Mr. Brunel - used afterwards to say, that the moment when he heard the gold piece - strike against his upper front teeth was perhaps the most exquisite in - his whole life.—Abridged from the _Quarterly Review_, No. 223. - -Footnote 101: - - _Saturday Review._ - -Footnote 102: - - This district was originally a clayey swamp; but Mr. Cubitt finding - the strata to consist of gravel and clay of inconsiderable depth, the - clay he removed and burned into bricks; and by building upon the - substratum of gravel, he converted this spot from one of the most - unhealthy to one of the most healthy—a singular adaptation of the - means to the end. - - ---------------------------- - - - SCIENTIFIC FARMING. - -Southey, in _The Doctor_, remarks: “It is a fact not unworthy of notice, -that the most intelligent farmers in the neighbourhood of London are -persons who have taken to farming as a business, because of their strong -inclination for rural employments: one of the very best in Middlesex, -when the Survey of that county was published by the Board of -Agriculture, had been a tailor.” - -Scientific farming has of late years largely multiplied these amateur -farmers; but, long before rural economy had taken this turn, we remember -a curious instance. Some five-and-forty years since, when Davy’s -_Agricultural Chemistry_ was the only work of its class, there lived in -a town of Surrey a gentleman-tradesman, who loved to relieve the -monotony of his own business by flying off to experimental pursuits. In -politics he was a disciple of Cobbett, and year after year foretold a -revolution in England,—an alarm which he raised throughout his -household. He took extreme interest in new mechanical projects; and kept -a chronological record of the progress of the Thames Tunnel. In -wine-making he was a very experimentalist, and knew by heart every line -of Macculloch on Wine from unripe fruit. Next, he turned over every inch -of his garden, analysed the soil _à la Davy_, and _salted_ all his -growing crops, as well as the soil. But he soon flew from horticultural -chemistry to real farming; and about the same time took to road-making -and macadamisation, and became surveyor of the highways. He next bought -the lease of a house in the neighbourhood for the sake of the large -garden attached to it; and here he passed much of his time in its -experimental culture. Had he lived to the days of Liebig, how he would -have revelled in his theories! - -We have a strong confirmation of Southey’s remark in the present day in -the case of Alderman Mechi, who has become a memorable man in this kind -of experimental agriculture, and has transferred the _magic_ of his -Razor-Strop (by the sale of which, in ten years he realised a handsome -fortune) to the barren heath-land of Essex. In 1840 he commenced his -bucolic experiments by purchasing a small unproductive farm at -Tiptree-heath; and here he tried what could be effected by deep drainage -and the application of steam-power. The Essex farmers laughed at him as -an enthusiast, and the country gentlemen kept aloof from him. Mechi, -however, persevered, and brought his farm into such high productiveness -that he realises annually an average handsome profit. We have seen his -balance-sheet impugned: however, if public opinion is worth any thing, -he has rendered great service to agricultural science by the exhibition -of processes upon his model farm, Tiptree, which is known all over the -European continent; for the Alderman has been presented with a 500_l._ -testimonial of plate by noblemen and gentlemen interested in science and -agriculture at home and abroad. - - ---------------------------- - - - LARGE FORTUNES. - -No single class can be pointed to in the present day as the first -favourite of fortune. The loan-monger is still powerful, and so is the -speculator; but bankers accumulate fortunes like those of the highest -nobles, and a linen-draper left the other day cash which would purchase -the fee-simple of the Woburn estates. The rate of fortunes has -enormously increased. Pitt thought it useless to tax fortunes above a -million, and now men die every day whose heirs chuckle over the saving -produced by this want of foresight. A “plum” has ceased to be even a -citizen’s goal, and there are tradesmen in London whose incomes while in -trade exceed “a great fortune” of the time of the second George. Very -enormous realised fortunes, properties that are producing 50,000_l._ -a-year, are, however, still very scarce. Only fifty-seven are returned -to the English income-tax; and though that is a palpably erroneous -account, it may be doubted if there are a dozen individuals with that -amount in the world. There are none in France or Italy beyond a few -working capitalists, a few remaining in Germany, a considerable number -in Russia, and perhaps thirty individuals in America. There are perhaps -ten private incomes in India of that amount, as many in South America, -and a few officials in the Eastern world accumulate very considerable -sums; but there the list ends.[103] Yet, how often are large fortunes -wrecked by those who succeed to them! - -Many a Londoner past middle age may recollect Thomas Clark, “the King of -Exeter ’Change,” who was long one of the most singular characters in the -metropolis. He took a stall in the ’Change in 1765, with 100_l._ lent -him by a stranger. By parsimony and perseverance he so extended his -business as to occupy nearly one-half of the entire building with the -sale of cutlery, turnery, &c. He grew rich, and once returned his income -at 6000_l._ a-year. He was penurious in his habits: he dined with his -plate on the bare board, and his meal, with a pint of porter, never cost -him a shilling; after dinner he took a glass of spirits-and-water at the -public-house opposite the end of the ’Change, and then returned to his -business. He resided in Belgrave-place, Pimlico; and morning and evening -saw him on his old horse, riding into town and home again—and thus he -figured in the print-shops. He died in 1817, in his eightieth year, and -left nearly half a million of money. His daughter was married to Hamlet, -the celebrated goldsmith of Coventry-street who, however, met with sad -reverses; and, among other unsuccessful speculations, built the Bazaar -and the Princess’s Theatre in Oxford-street. - -The wealth of the celebrated Mr. Beckford, the son of the demagogue -Alderman, and Lord Chatham’s god-child, proved the shoal upon which his -happiness was wrecked. He succeeded to his father’s enormous fortune at -ten years of age. He was educated at home: he was quick and lively, and -had literary tastes; he had a great passion for genealogy and heraldry; -studied Oriental literature: in his seventeenth year he wrote a history -of extraordinary painters. His father had left him, principally in -Jamaica estates, a property which, on the conclusion of his minority, -furnished him with a million of ready money and an income of 100,000_l._ -a-year. He travelled and resided abroad until his twenty-second year, -when he wrote _Vathek_, a work of startling beauty. At twenty-four he -married; but the lady died in three years. He passed many years in -travelling, principally in Spain and Portugal, before he got -sufficiently settled in mind to return to his family-seat, Fonthill in -Wiltshire. He began to reside there in 1796, and immediately commenced -the great squandering of his money. He had always a hundred, and often -two hundred, workmen engaged in carrying out his wayward fancies. But he -was haughty and reserved; and because some of his neighbours followed -game into his grounds, he had a wall, twelve feet high and seven miles -long, built round his home-estate, in order to shut out the world. He -then began the third house at Fonthill, considering the second too near -a piece of water. The new house was built in a sham monastic style, was -called the Abbey, and cost a quarter of a million; but never put to any -use, except on one occasion, to receive Lord Nelson. While Beckford was -indulging these gigantic follies, he lost, by an adverse decision in a -Chancery-suit, a considerable portion of his Jamaica property; he was -also cheated out of large sums of money, and in the end was obliged to -sell Fonthill; the purchaser was Mr. Farquhar, a rich but penurious -merchant. In a few years the lofty tower of the Abbey fell down. The -estate is now the property of the Marquis of Westminster. Mr. Beckford -removed to Bath, and there built, on Lansdowne Hill, an Italian villa, -with a lofty prospect-tower. While residing here he wrote an account of -the travels which he had made half a century before; and having got -through large sums of money in planting and building, he died in 1844, -in his eighty-fourth year; and upon his tomb a passage from _Vathek_ is -inscribed. - -Mr. Beckford was unquestionably a man of genius and rare -accomplishments. “But his abilities were overpowered, and his character -tainted, by the possession of wealth so enormous. At every stage of life -his money was like a millstone round his neck. He had taste and -knowledge; but the selfishness of wealth tempted him to let these gifts -of the mind run to seed in the gratification of extravagant freaks. He -really enjoyed travelling and scenery, but he felt it incumbent on him, -as a millionnaire, to take a French cook with him wherever he went; and -he found that the Spanish grandees and ecclesiastical dignitaries who -welcomed him so cordially valued him as the man whose cook could make -such wonderful omelettes. From the day when Chatham’s proxy stood for -him at the font till the day when he was laid in his pink granite -sarcophagus, he was the victim of riches. Had he had only 5000_l._ a -year, and been sent to Eton, he might have been one of the foremost men -of his time, and have been as useful in his generation as, under his -unhappy circumstances, he was useless.”[104] It may be added, that he -was worse: for he so threw about his money at Fonthill as to corrupt and -demoralise the simple country-people. We remember three of his London -residences: one on the Terrace, Piccadilly, on the site of the -newly-built mansion of Baron Rothschild; another of Beckford’s town -residences was No. 1 Devonshire-place, New-road; and the third, No. 27 -Charles-street, May Fair, a very small house, looking over the garden of -Chesterfield-house. - -The vanity of wealth is exemplified in the following anecdote, which -Mrs. Richard Trench had from an ear-witness: - - The late Duke of Queensberry, leaning over the balcony of his - beautiful villa near Richmond, where every pleasure was collected - which wealth could purchase or luxury devise, he followed with his - eyes the majestic Thames, winding through groves and buildings of - various loveliness, and exclaimed, “Oh, that wearisome river! Will - it never cease running, running, and I so tired of it?” To me this - anecdote conveys a strong moral lesson, connected with the - well-known character of the speaker, a professed voluptuary, who - passed his youth in pursuit of selfish pleasures, and his age in - vain attempts to elude the relentless grasp of _ennui_. - -Now let us turn to some better uses of wealth earned by well-directed -industry. Old Mr. Strahan, the printer (the founder of the typarchical -dynasty), said to Dr. Johnson, that “there are few ways in which a man -can be more innocently employed than getting money;” and he added, that -“the more one thinks of this, the juster it will appear.” Johnson agreed -with him. Boswell also relates that Mr. Strahan once talked of launching -into the great ocean of London, in order to have a chance of rising into -eminence; and observing that many men were kept back from trying their -fortunes there because they had been born to a competency, said, “Small -certainties are the bane of men of talents;” which Johnson confirmed. - -Mr. Strahan had taken a poor boy from the country as an apprentice, upon -Johnson’s recommendation. Johnson, having inquired after him, said, “Mr. -Strahan, let me have five guineas on account, and I’ll give this boy -one. Nay, if a man recommends a boy, and does nothing for him, it’s sad -work. Call him down.” Boswell followed Johnson into the courtyard behind -Mr. Strahan’s house, and there he heard this conversation: - -“Well, my boy, how do you go on?” “Pretty well, sir; but they’re afraid -I a’n’t strong enough for some parts of the business.” _Johnson._ “Why, -I shall be sorry for it; for, when you consider with how little mental -power and corporeal labour a printer can get a guinea a week, it is a -very desirable occupation for you. Do you hear; take all the pains you -can; and if this does not do, we must think of some other way of life -for you. There’s a guinea.” - -Here was one of the many instances of Johnson’s active benevolence. At -the same time, says Boswell, the slow and sonorous solemnity with which, -while he bent himself down, he addressed a little thick short-legged -boy, contrasted with the boy’s awkwardness and awe, could not but excite -some ludicrous emotions. - -Johnson appears to have been generally alive to the policy of getting -money: we all remember when, as one of the executors of Mr. Thrale, he -was assisting in taking stock of the brewery in Southwark, how its -vastness impressed the doctor with “the potentiality of growing rich.” - -William Strahan, a native of Edinburgh, came to London when a very young -man, and worked as a journeyman printer, having Dr. Franklin for one of -his fellow-workmen. Strahan, industrious and thrifty, prospered, and -purchased, in 1770, a share of the patent for King’s printer; and he -obtained considerable property in the copyrights of the works of the -most celebrated authors of the time. He was a great friend to Johnson, -and kept up his intimacy with Franklin. He died rich, bequeathing -munificent legacies. He was succeeded in his business by his third son, -Andrew Strahan, who inherited his father’s excellent qualities, and died -in 1831, aged eighty-three, leaving property to the amount of more than -a million of money. Among his many generous acts, he presented to James -Smith, one of the authors of the _Rejected Addresses_, the munificent -gift of 1000_l._ - -The vicissitudes of the Buckinghams, political as well as fiscal, can be -traced through the long lapse of eight centuries. In our own times, two -dukes have fallen from their high estate into neglect and poverty. -Richard, first Duke of Buckingham and Chandos, lived at Stowe, with -princely magnificence: his expenditure in rare books and works of art -was enormous; and his entertainment of the Royal Family of France and -their numerous retinues, upon one of his estates, not only drained his -exchequer, but burdened him with debt. Neither Louis XVIII. nor Charles -X., however, took the slightest notice of the obligation they had -incurred,—apparently regarding such imprudent generosity as the natural -acknowledgment of their exceeding merit. The Duke was, in 1827, -compelled to shut up his house and go abroad, till his large estates -could be nursed, so as to meet the heaviest and most pressing -demands.[105] While abroad, he had a dream, which he has recorded in his -_Private Diary_, published in 1862. He dreamed that he was at Stowe, his -dear and regretted home: all was deserted—not a soul appeared to receive -him. His good dog met him, licked his hand, and accompanied him through -all the apartments, which were desolate and solitary,—every room as he -had left it. He met his wife, who told him all his family were gone, and -she alone was left. He awoke with the distress of the moment, and slept -no more that night. - -Mr. Rumsey Forster, in his piquant historical notice of Stowe, prefixed -to the _Priced and Annotated Catalogue_, relates that, Louis Philippe -being present when the Royal Family of France were enjoying the -hospitality of the Marquis of Buckingham at Stowe, as they were seated -together in the library, the conversation turned on events then enacting -on the other side of the Channel; upon which Louis Philippe, -recollecting his own position with the Revolutionists, threw himself -upon his knees, and begged pardon of his royal uncle for having ever -worn the tricoloured cockade. The anecdote is curious, when the -subsequent career of the ex-monarch is borne in mind. - -The Duke died Jan. 17, 1839, and was succeeded by his only son, Richard -Plantagenet, who, though crippled in fortune by the paternal tastes, -celebrated the coming of age of his son with profuse hospitality at -Stowe, in 1844; and in 1845, entertained Queen Victoria and the Prince -Albert with great sumptuousness. The mansion at Stowe was partly -refurnished for the occasion, when the cost of the new carpets was -5000_l._ In 1848, the dream of the first Duke was strangely realised by -the dismantling of Stowe, and the compulsory dispersion of the whole of -the costly contents; the sale occupying forty days, and realising -75,562_l._ 4_s._ 6_d._ The Duke subsequently resided in the -neighbourhood; and he often indulged his sadness at his fallen fortunes -by walking to Stowe; and there, in one of the superb saloons in which -kings and princes had held courts and been feasted with regal -magnificence,—seated in a chair before a small table—the only furniture -in the room—would Richard Plantagenet pass many an hour of “bitter -fancy.” He died July 30, 1861, at the age of sixty-four. Sir Bernard -Burke, Ulster, writes of the Duke’s lineage: “Of all native-born British -subjects, his Grace was, after the present reigning family, the senior -representative of the Royal Houses of Tudor and Plantagenet.”[106] - -“Day and Martin’s Blacking,” one of the inventions of the present -century, realised a large fortune, which was mostly appropriated to -beneficent purposes. Day is related to have been originally a -hair-dresser; and, as the story goes, one morning a soldier entered his -shop, representing that he had a long march before him to reach his -regiment; that his money was gone, and nothing but sickness, fatigue, -and punishment awaited him unless he could get a lift on a coach. The -worthy barber, who, with his small means, was a generous man, presented -him with a guinea, when the grateful soldier exclaimed, “God bless you, -sir! how can I ever repay you this? I have nothing in this world except” -(pulling a dirty piece of paper from his pocket) “a receipt for -blacking: it is the best ever was seen; many a half-guinea have I had -for it from the officers, and many bottles have I sold.” Mr. Day, who -was a shrewd man, inquired into the truth of the story, tried the -blacking, and finding it good, commenced the manufacture and sale of it, -and realised the immense fortune of which he died possessed in 1836; -bequeathing 100,000_l._ for the benefit of persons who, like himself, -suffered the deprivation of sight. The rebuilding of the Blacking -Factory, in High Holborn, cost 12,000_l._ - -Pianoforte-making has led to great money-making results. About the year -1776, Becker, a German, undertook to apply the pianoforte mechanism to -the harpsichord, assisted by John Broadwood and Robert Stodart, then -workmen in the employ of Burckhardt Tschudi, of Great Pulteney-street, -London. After many experiments, the grand-pianoforte mechanism was -contrived by these three. Messrs. Broadwood, from 1824 to 1850, made on -an average 2236 pianofortes per annum; and employed in their manufactory -573 workmen, besides persons working for them at home. In 1862 died the -head of the firm, Mr. Thomas Broadwood, sen., at the age of -seventy-five, leaving 350,000_l._ personal property, besides realty. - -James Morison, who styled himself “the Hygeist,” and was noted for his -“Vegetable Medicines,” was a Scotchman, and a gentleman by birth and -education. His family was of the landed gentry of Aberdeenshire, his -brother being “Morison of Bognie,” an estate worth about 4000_l._ a -year. In 1816 James Morison, having sold his commission, for he was an -officer in the army, lived in No. 17 Silver-street, Aberdeen, a house -belonging to Mr. Reid, of Souter and Reid, druggists. He obtained the -use of their pill-machine, with which he made in their back-shop as many -pills as filled two large casks. The ingredients of these pills, however -he may have modified them afterwards, were chiefly oatmeal and bitter -aloes. With these two great “meal bowies” filled with pills, he started -for London; with the fag-end of his fortune advertised them far and -wide, and ultimately amassed 500,000_l._ - -Such is the statement of a Correspondent of the _Athenæum_. Morison’s -own story was, that his own sufferings from ill-health, and the cure he -at length effected upon himself by “vegetable pills,” made him a -disseminator of the latter article. He had found the pills to be “the -only rational purifiers of the blood;” of these he took two or three at -bedtime, and a glass of lemonade in the morning, and thus regained sound -sleep and high spirits, and feared neither heat nor cold, dryness nor -humidity. The duty on the pills produced a revenue of 60,000_l._ to -Government during the first ten years. Morison died at Paris, in 1840, -aged seventy. - -The Denisons, father and son, accumulated two of the largest fortunes of -our time. About 120 years ago, Joseph Denison, who was the son of a -woollen-cloth merchant at Leeds, anxious to seek his fortune in London, -travelled thither in a wagon, being attended on his departure by his -friends, who took a solemn leave of him, as the distance was then -thought so great that they might never see him again. He at first -accepted a subordinate situation; but being industrious, parsimonious, -and fortunate, he speedily advanced himself in the confidence and esteem -of his employers, bankers in St. Mary Axe, and married successively two -wives with property. He continued to prosper; and by joining the -Heywoods, eminent bankers of Liverpool, his wealth rapidly increased. In -1787 he purchased the estate of Denbies, near Dorking in Surrey. By his -second wife he had one son, William Joseph Denison; and two -daughters—Elizabeth, married, in 1794, to Henry, first Marquis -Conyngham; and Maria, married, in 1793, to Sir Robert Lawley, Bart., -created, in 1831, Baron Wenlock. - -Mr. Denison died in 1806; his son, succeeding to the banking business, -continued to accumulate; and, at his death in his seventy-ninth year, in -August 1849, left two millions and a half of money. He had sat in -Parliament for Surrey from 1818. He was a man of cultivated tastes, -possessed a knowledge of art and elegant literature; he feared to be -thought ostentatious, and could with difficulty be prevailed on to have -a lodge erected at the entrance to a new road which he had just formed -on his estate, near Dorking. The Marchioness Conyngham was left a widow -in 1832; she died in 1861, having attained the venerable age of -ninety-two, and lived to see both her sons peers of the realm,—the one -in succession to his father; the second, Albert Denison, as heir to her -own brother’s great fortune and estates, with the title of Baron -Londesborough. - -The career of George Hudson, ridiculously styled “the Railway King,” was -one of the _ignes fatui_ of the railway mania. He was born in a lowly -house in College-street, York, in 1800; here he served his -apprenticeship to a linendraper, and subsequently carried on the -business as principal, amassing considerable wealth. His fortune was -next increased by a bequest from a distant relative, which sum he -invested in North-Midland Railway shares; and, under his chairmanship, -they gradually rose from 70_l._ discount to 120_l._ premium. This led to -the creation of new shares in branch and extension lines, often -worthless, which were issued at a premium also: Hudson soon found -himself chairman of 600 miles of railway, extending from Rugby to -Newcastle; and he is stated in a single day to have cleared 100,000_l._ -He was also elected M.P. for Sunderland; and served twice Lord Mayor of -York. The sum of 16,000_l._ was subscribed and presented to him as a -public testimonial; with which he purchased a mansion at Albert-gate, -Hyde-park; here he lived sumptuously, and went his round of visits among -the peerage. But the speculation of 1845 was followed by a sudden -reaction: shares fell, the holders sold to avoid payment of calls, and -many were ruined; then followed the unkingship of Hudson, who was hurled -down like the molten calf, and he lost a vast fortune in the general -wreck of the railway bubbles. - -The most beneficial fortunes made in business are those by which, at the -same time, permanent advantages are secured to the public. Henry -Colburn, the well-known publisher, “was a man of much ability and -extraordinary enterprise. His public career connected him intimately -with the literature of the present century, and few are the -distinguished writers, during the last forty years, whose names were not -associated with that of Mr. Colburn. In one of Mr. Disraeli’s novels a -handsome tribute is paid to his acuteness of judgment and generosity of -dealing. The publication of the Diaries of Pepys and Evelyn will rank -among many sterling contributions to literature due in the first -instance to his enterprise. He originated those weekly literary reviews -which have since been so successful; he established more than one -newspaper, and conducted for a great many years the Magazine which still -bears his name; and was the original publisher of Sir Bernard Burke’s -_Peerage_. In private life he was known as a friendly, hospitable, kind -man, and acts of the greatest liberality marked his course through -life.”[107] He died at an advanced age. - -Mr. James Morrison, the wealthy warehouseman of Cripplegate, started in -life as foreman to Mr. Todd, whose daughter he married; and succeeding -to his large property, distinguished himself as a sound political -economist, and for some years sat in Parliament. He obtained, by -purchase, the fine estates of Basilden, in Berkshire, and Fonthill, in -Wiltshire: at Basilden, in 1846, the Lord Mayor and Corporation, upon -the View of the Thames, were entertained by Mr. Morrison, who then -referred with much gratification to his having been brought up in the -City of London, “connected with it in a mercantile point of view, and -having, by his own industry, obtained every thing he could desire.” He -was a man of high commercial character; to which Mr. Edwin Chadwick, at -the Meeting of the British Association at Cambridge, in 1862, bore this -interesting testimony: “I had the pleasure,” said Mr. Chadwick, “of the -acquaintance of perhaps the most wealthy and successful merchant of the -last half-century,—a distinguished member of our political economy club, -the late Mr. James Morrison,—who assured me, that the leading principles -to which he owed his success in life, and which he vindicated as sound -elements of economical science, were—always to consult the interests of -the consumer, and not, as is the common maxim, to buy cheap and sell -dear, but to sell cheap as well as to buy cheap; it being to his -interest to widen the area of consumption, and to sell quickly and to -the many. The next maxim is involved in the first principle—always to -tell the truth, to have no shams: a rule which he confessed he found it -most difficult to get his common sellers to adhere to in its integrity, -yet most important for success, it being to his interest as a merchant -that any ship-captain might come into his warehouse and fill his ship -with goods of which he had no technical knowledge, but of which he well -knew that only a small profit was charged upon a close ready-money -purchasing price, and that go where he would he would find nothing -cheaper; it being, moreover, to the merchant’s interest that his bill of -prices should be every where received from experience as a truth, and -trustworthy evidence so far of a fair market-value. I might cite -extensive testimony of the like character to show that the very labour -and risks of continued deceits, however common, are detrimental to the -successful operation of economic principles, and that sound economy is -every where concurrent with high public morality.” - -With this brilliant exception before us, we must, however, admit the -general truth of this experience: “The nobility of trade usually ends -with the second generation. A thrifty and persevering man falls into a -line of business by which he accumulates a large fortune, preserving -through life the habits, manners, and connexions of his trade; but his -children, brought up with expectations of enjoying his property, -understand only the art of spending. Hence, when deprived of fortune, -without industry or resources, they die in beggary, leaving a third -generation to the same chances of life as those with which their -grandfather began his career fourscore years before.”[108] - - --------------------- -Footnote 103: - - _Spectator_ newspaper, 1862. - -Footnote 104: - - _Saturday Review._ - -Footnote 105: - - When the Duke and Duchess, in taking farewell of Stowe, had reached - the flower-garden, they both burst into a violent fit of tears. They - went through the two gardens, and left them in silent sorrow: as he - passed along, the Duke gave the Duchess a rose, which she treasured as - the last gift. - -Footnote 106: - - See Ulster’s _Vicissitudes of Families_, in three volumes, for many - impressive narratives of the same class as the above. - -Footnote 107: - - The _Examiner_. - -Footnote 108: - - _Golden Rules of Social Philosophy_, by Sir Richard Phillips. - - ---------------------------- - - - CIVIC WORTHIES. - -The state and dignity of the office of Chief Magistrate of the City of -London have, during nearly centuries of its existence, pointed many a -moral,—from the nursery-tale of Whittington to the accessories of -Hogarth’s pictures and a homelier illustration of our own days: - - Our Lord Mayor and his golden coach, and his gold-covered footmen - and coachman, and his golden chain, and his chaplain, and great - sword of state, please the people, and particularly the women and - girls; and when they are pleased, the men and boys are pleased: and - many a young fellow has been more industrious and attentive from his - hope of one day riding in that golden coach.—_Cobbett._ - -This is, however, but the bright side of the picture. Civic office is -often a costly honour; not only by large expenditure, but by neglect of -private business to attend to the public duties of the station. - -All that we propose to do here is to record a few noteworthy Mayoralties -of the _present century_, to show that the office continues to be filled -by men of high character and moral worth. - -Among the worthy citizens should be mentioned Sir James Shaw, born in -1764, in the humblest circumstances, and educated at the grammar-school -of Kilmarnock. He settled in London as a merchant, by his own -perseverance and integrity amassed a fortune, served as Lord Mayor -1805-6, sat in three parliaments for the City, and was subsequently -Chamberlain. He was unostentatiously charitable, encouraged industrious -poor men, and succoured the indigent, because he remembered his own -unpromising infancy; and he was one of the first to assist the helpless -children of Robert Burns. In commemoration of these estimable qualities, -a marble statue of Sir James Shaw was erected by public subscription at -Kilmarnock in 1848. - -Sir Matthew Wood, Bart., the most popular Lord Mayor in the present -century, began life as a druggist’s traveller, and then settled in -London in the ward of Cripplegate, for which he rose to be alderman: he -served as Lord Mayor two successive years, and represented the City in -nine parliaments; his baronetcy was the first title conferred by Queen -Victoria shortly after her accession. He gained much popularity as the -adviser of the ill-fated Queen Caroline; for which, and his general -political conduct, a princely legacy was bequeathed to him by the -wealthy banker of Gloucester of the same name. He died in his 75th year: -his eldest son, the present baronet, is in holy orders; and his second -son, Sir William Page Wood, is a sound equity lawyer and a -Vice-Chancellor. - -Alderman Birch, Lord Mayor in 1815, received a liberal education, and at -an early age wrote some poems of considerable merit: he succeeded his -father in business, as a cook and confectioner, in Cornhill. He produced -several dramatic pieces, of which the _Adopted Child_ is a stock -favourite: he was a sound scholar, and wrote the inscription for the -statue of George III. in the Council-chamber at the Guildhall, and took -an active part in founding the London Institution.[109] - -Robert Waithman, Lord Mayor in 1823-24, was born of parents in humble -life, in 1764, and, when a boy, was adopted by his uncle, a linendraper -at Bath, and sent to a school where the boys were taught public and -extemporaneous speaking. He was taken into his uncle’s business, and -subsequently came to London, and opened a shop at the south end of -Fleet-market. In 1794 he began to take an active part in City politics, -and was next elected into the Common Council, where his speeches, -resolutions, petitions, and addresses, would fill a large volume. He sat -in five parliaments for the City, made a popular Sheriff and Lord Mayor; -and after his death, in 1833, his friends and fellow-citizens erected to -his memory a granite obelisk upon the site whereon he commenced -business. A memorial tablet was also placed in St. Bride’s church, -stating that “it was his happiness to see that great cause triumphant, -of which he had been the intrepid advocate from youth to age.” Curiously -enough, this tablet is placed in the vestibule of the church, directly -opposite a similar memorial to Mr. Blades, of Ludgate-hill, who was a -fine old Tory, and a stanch opponent to Waithman throughout his stormy -political life: as in life, so in death the great leveller has laid them -here. - -Waithman made his first political speech at Founders’ Hall, “the caldron -of sedition,” when he and his fellow-orators were routed by constables -sent by the Lord Mayor, Sanderson, to disperse the meeting. When -Sheriff, in 1821, Waithman, in endeavouring to quell a tumult at -Knightsbridge, had a carbine presented at him by a lifeguardsman; and, -at the funeral of Queen Caroline, a bullet passed through the Sheriff’s -carriage, in the procession through Hyde-park. Latterly, the alderman -grew too moderate for his Farringdon-ward friends, and he was defeated -of being elected Chamberlain; he then withdrew to a farm near Reigate, -and in this bucolic retirement passed away. He was an intrepid, upright -man, but had been sparsely educated; and many of the Resolutions on the -War with France, by which he gained political notoriety, were written by -his friend and neighbour, Sir Richard Phillips. - -In early life Waithman showed considerable genius for acting; and we -once heard him relate that his success in the character of Macbeth led -his friends to press upon him the stage as a profession; but he chose -another sphere. He was uncle to John Reeve, the clever comic actor. - -Alderman Kelly, Lord Mayor at the accession of her Majesty in 1837, was -horn at Chevening, in Kent, and lived, when a youth, with Alexander -Hogg, the publisher, in Paternoster-row, for 10_l._ a year wages. He -slept under the shop-counter for the security of the premises; but was -reported to his master to be “too slow” for the situation: Mr. Hogg, -however, thought him “a biddable boy,” and he remained: this incident -shows _upon what apparently trifling circumstances a man’s future -prospects in life depend_. Kelly succeeded Mr. Hogg in the business, -became alderman of the ward, and lived upon the spot sixty years: he -died in his eighty-fourth year.[110] He was a man of active benevolence, -and reminded one of the pious Lord Mayor, Sir Thomas Abney. - -Sir Chapman Marshall, Lord Mayor 1839-40, was also of humble origin, as -he narrated in 1831, when Sheriff, in replying to the toast of his -health: “My Lord Mayor and gentlemen, you now see before you a humble -individual who has been educated in a parochial school. I came to London -in 1803, without a shilling—without a friend. I have not had the -advantage of a classical education; therefore you will excuse my defects -of language. But this I will say, my Lord Mayor and gentlemen, that you -witness in me what may be done by the earnest application of honest -industry; and I trust my example may induce others to aspire, by the -same means, to the distinguished situation which I now have the honour -to fill.” Here is a similar instance. - -Sir John Pirie, Lord Mayor 1841-2, received his baronetcy on the -christening of the Prince of Wales: at his inauguration dinner Sir John -said: “I little thought, forty years ago, when I came to the City of -London, a poor lad from the banks of the Tweed, that I should ever -arrive at so great a distinction.” - -Alderman Wire, Lord Mayor 1858-9, was born 1801, and was one of the -large family of a tradesman at Colchester; yet he had the advantage of a -liberal education. He came to London and articled himself to a City -solicitor, and by his intelligence and industry was advanced to be -partner in the business, and ultimately became the head of the firm. He -was elected Alderman of his Ward (Walbrook), served Sheriff in 1853, and -then Lord Mayor. Early in his year of office he was afflicted with -paralysis, of which he recovered; but died on Lord-Mayor’s-day 1860! He -was an active advocate of sanitary and educational movements, a liberal -politician, and a man of cultivated taste, and made an able chief -magistrate. - -Alderman Mechi deserves a niche among these civic worthies, by the -superior enterprise of his career. He is the son of a citizen of -Bologna, was brought to England by his father, and, obtaining a -clerkship in a house in the Newfoundland trade, he remained there eleven -years. Whilst in this service, he turned the hour allowed for dinner to -profitable account by selling, among his friends and acquaintance in the -City, a small and inexpensive article, of which he had bought the -patent. Mainly by these exertions, when in his twenty-fifth year, he -commenced business as a cutler, with the success we have already -intimated. He then studied how to remedy the defects of English farming -by scientific processes; rose to be Sheriff and an Alderman; took an -active part in the affairs of the Society of Arts, and was specially -sent by her Majesty’s Government to the Industrial Exhibition at Paris -in 1854. - -Addison, we know, says, “the City has always been the province for -satire; and the wits of King Charles’s time jested upon nothing else -during his whole reign.” Nevertheless, “the Merry Monarch” dined with -the citizens no fewer than nine times in their Guildhall. Here also -Whittington had feasted Henry V. and his Queen, when he threw the King’s -bonds for 60,000_l._ into a fire of spice-wood. But a still more -memorable feast was that in 1497, when at the table of the Lord Mayor, -William Purchase, Erasmus first met Sir Thomas More; whence sprung one -of the most interesting friendships in literary history. - -It has been well said that a dinner lubricates business; and it does -more—it fosters charity and good works. The annual banquet on -Lord-Mayor’s-day, in the Guildhall, is mostly to be viewed as a festival -of civic state: “the loving-cup and the barons of beef carrying the mind -back to medieval times and manners.”[111] The banquets at the Mansion -House—one of the most palatial edifices in the kingdom—are of a like -stately description; and for the more direct benefits of civic festivity -we must look to the Ward dinners, and the meetings of public officers at -table, when they forget the cares and heartburnings incident to every -grade of office, and enjoy with the feast the higher luxury of doing -good. - - --------------------- -Footnote 109: - - Birch excelled in his art; and his _cuisine_ was unrivalled in the - City. Kitchiner immortalised his soups in print, and the Mansion-House - banquets and Court dinners of the Companies attested the alderman’s - practical skill in his business. The shop in Cornhill was established - in the reign of King George I. by Horton, who was succeeded by the - father of Alderman Birch, whose successors, in 1836, were the present - proprietors, Ring and Brymer. The premises present a curious specimen - of the decorated shop-front of the early part of the last century. - -Footnote 110: - - See _Life of Alderman Kelly_, by the Rev. R. C. Fell. 1856. - -Footnote 111: - - Cunningham. - - ---------------------------- - - - WORKING AUTHORS AND ARTISTS. - -Godwin, the novelist and political writer, used to say that an author -should have two heads,—one for his books, the other for worldly matters. -And Holcroft, Godwin’s contemporary, made a similar remark on -actors,—that they were so often filling other characters as to forget -their own. These observations are, happily, of rare application in the -cases of the present day. - -We, however, remember the phrase of _Grub-street_ in occasional use, and -we find “the poor devil of an author” in one of Washington Irving’s -early works. But this species is now extinct; and authors build villas, -give large parties, and keep carriages, like other successful -professional men. Nor must it be forgotten that they do not receive -their money for corrupt services, as did the hacks of former days; and a -Grub-street Author would be now almost as great a rarity as a living -gorilla. - -We remember a specimen of “author and rags—author and dirt—author and -gin,”—of forty years since. He lived in a garret,[112] in an old house -at the top of Red Lion-court, Fleet-street: in one corner of the room, -upon the floor, lay the bed; near the fire-place was an old chair; a box -placed endwise served for a table; and these, with an almost spoutless -coffee-pot, a maimed cup and saucer, a bottle for a candlestick, and an -old chest, nearly completed the contents of the miserable apartment. The -inmate was an old man turned of seventy, with shrunk shanks and -loosely-fitting coat and breeches, and the conventional -author’s-nightcap; his scratchwig being placed upon one of the uprights -of his chair, which served as a block. Every portion of the room bore -evidence of the _dirt;_ and the atmosphere was redolent of _gin_. He -wrote a large black, sermon-like hand, upon paper of all sorts and -sizes: his matter was as antiquated as his manner; his very talk was -scholastic pedantry, and the room was strewed with scraps and shreds of -his learning: but he lived within the classic shade of Valpy’s -printing-office. With all his labour and learning, whatever he wrote was -not half so serviceable or so interesting as a short-hand report of an -occurrence of yesterday. - -Another humble practitioner of authorship had been driven to it by -failure in business; and an undecided Chancery-suit had made him a -pitiable, puling fellow; far less cheerful than the evergreen “Tom -Hill,” who, failing as a drysalter at unlettered Queenhithe, betook -himself to the editorship of the _Monthly Mirror_, but had to part with -a collection of book-rarities (chiefly English poetry), which he began -to make in early life as some relief to drysalting, which was any thing -but Attic work! - -The life of this “merry bachelor” exemplified one venerable proverb, and -disproved another: born in 1760, and dying in 1840, he was “as old as -the Hills,” having led a long life and a merry one. He was a remarkably -early riser; but that which contributed more to his longevity was his -gaiety of heart, and his being merry and wise: he had his cares and -crosses, but when nearly ruined by an adverse speculation in indigo, he -retired with the remains of his property to chambers in the Adelphi. His -books were valued at 6000_l._ He had been a Mecænas in his time, and had -patronised two friendless poets, Bloomfield and Kirke White. He was the -Hull of his friend Theodore Hook’s _Gilbert Gurney_, and suggested some -of the eccentricities of Paul Pry. - -Authorship and Trade are thought to be “wide as the poles asunder,” -though sometimes attempered by circumstances. David Booth, who wrote the -_Analytical Dictionary_ and a critical work on English Composition, was -originally a brewer, then a man of letters; and late in life he realised -much money by imparting to brewers the secret of preventing -Acidification in Brewing. - -Among the strange successes of authorship may be mentioned the -popularity of works published anonymously, which their authors have not -cared to claim. The accomplished Dr. William Maginn wrote the tragic -story of the Polstead murder, in 1827, in the form of a novel, entitled -the _Red Barn_, the sale of which extended to many thousand copies; yet -no one suspected it to be the work of an elegant scholar, critic, and -poet. - -Literary Fame, Lord Byron affected to despise, in the following entry in -his entertaining _Ravenna Journal_, January 4th, 1821: - - I was out of spirits—read the papers—thought what _fame_ was, on - reading in a case of murder that Mr. Wych, grocer, at Tunbridge, - sold some bacon, flour, cheese, and, it is believed, some plums, to - some gipsy woman accused. He had on his counter (I quote faithfully) - a book, the _Life of Pamela_, which he was _tearing_ for _waste_ - paper, &c. &c. In the cheese was found, &c., and a _leaf_ of _Pamela - wrapped round the bacon_. What would Richardson, the vainest and - luckiest of _living_ authors (_i. e._ while alive)—he who, with - Aaron Hill, used to prophesy and chuckle over the presumed fall of - Fielding (the prose Homer of human nature), and of Pope (the most - beautiful of poets)—what would he have said could he have traced his - pages from their place on the French prince’s toilets (see Boswell’s - _Johnson_) to the grocer’s counter and the gipsy murderess’s bacon? - What would he have said—what can any body say—save what Solomon said - long before us. After all, it is but passing from one counter to - another—from the bookseller’s to the other tradesman’s, grocer or - pastry-cook. For my part, I have met with most poetry upon trunks; - so that I am apt to consider the trunk-maker as the sexton of - authorship. - -The Letters of Southey afford some of the most truthful experiences of -an author to be found in any record of human life and character. At the -age of thirty, when struggling with the world, he wrote thus -reverentially: - - No man was ever more contented with his lot than I am; for few have - ever had more enjoyments, and none had ever better or worthier - hopes. Life, therefore, is sufficiently dear to me, and long life - desirable, that I may accomplish all which I design. But yet, I - could be well content that the next century were over, and my part - fairly at an end, having been gone well through. Just as at school - one wished the school-days over, though we were happy enough there, - because we expected more happiness and more liberty when we were to - be our own masters, might lie as much later in the morning as we - pleased, have no bounds, and do no exercise,—just so do I wish that - my exercises were over, that that ugly chrysalis state were passed - through to which we must all come, and that I had fairly burst my - shell, and got into the new world, with wings upon my shoulders, or - some inherent power like the wishing-cap, which should annihilate - all the inconveniences of space. - -How lifelike also is the following passage upon Southey’s meeting his -friend and schoolfellow, Combe! “It is about six years since I saw him. -Both he and I have grown into men with as little change as possible in -either; and yet, after a few minutes, there was a dead weight upon me -which was not to be shaken off. We met with the heartiness of old and -thorough familiarity,—something like a family feeling,—but it was -necessary to go back to school; for the moment we ceased to be -schoolboys there was nothing in common between us. We had no common -acquaintance or pursuit; and I feel that of all things in the world -there is nothing more mortifying than to meet an old friend from whom -you have had no weaning, and to find your friendship cut through at the -root.” - -The life of John Britton, the topographer and antiquary, presents a -remarkable instance of a man born to trouble, yet so successfully -struggling with difficulties of all kinds, as to attain a respectable -position in life, and to be honoured in his declining years with a -public testimonial of esteem. He was born at Kington, Wilts, in 1771: -his father, through failure in trade, became insane; the boy learnt his -letters from a hornbook, but received little further schooling. He came -to London, and, until manhood, worked hard in wine-cellars; but his -health breaking down in this employment, he engaged himself at fifteen -shillings a week as clerk to an attorney. He had grown fond of reading, -but could only get snatches at book-stalls from books, having no money -to buy them. However, he at length succeeded in getting a few, read -early and late, and made some attempts at authorship, which led him to -an enterprise that may be said to have indicated his future fortune. He -projected publishing a description of his native county, Wiltshire, and -with this view waited upon the Marquis of Lansdowne, at Bowood, to -solicit his patronage.[113] He had neither card nor prospectus; but he -told his early struggles and his love of reading so artlessly, that the -kind-hearted nobleman directed his librarian to provide young Britton -with books and maps; to allot him a bedroom; and depute a person to show -him over the house and pleasure-grounds. He remained at Bowood four -days, much of which time he passed in the well-stored library. All this -kindness[114] Mr. Britton gratefully acknowledges in his Autobiography, -adding that, had he been coldly repulsed by Lord Lansdowne, “it is -probable that the _Beauties of Wiltshire_ would never have appeared -before the public, nor its author become known in literature.” He wrote, -edited, and published nearly one hundred works, and in this way laboured -for some sixty years. This success we attribute to his great energy of -character, nurtured by the kindness with which he was received at -Bowood; and aided in after-life by qualities which we rarely see -associated in the same individual. Mr. Britton was not only industrious -and persevering, but cheerful under defeat; his evenness of temper was -very remarkable; yet he was not cold in his attachments. He tells us -that from his boyhood he was ambitious to be in the company of his -elders and superiors in knowledge: we can testify that he was -well-behaved, though not obsequious; well-ordered and accurate in -business and money-matters; always living within his means, from youth, -when he read books in bed to save the expense of fire,—to his green old -age of comfort in his quiet and elegant home in Burton-street: “years -had not blunted his sympathies, but to the last his heart overflowed -with genial kindness and benevolence;” and he passed away peacefully and -resignedly in his eighty-sixth year, on New-Year’s-day, 1857. It will -thus be seen that John Britton possessed qualities which, if less -striking than his industry, were equally essential to his success in -life, although they were but fully known to his more immediate circle of -friends and acquaintance. - -The career of Mr. Britton’s friend and neighbour, Francis Baily, the -astronomer, presents a memorable instance of a well-spent life, although -commenced with a mistake. He was apprenticed to a London tradesman; but -disliking the business, at the expiration of the term, his taste for -science having already been developed, at the age of one-and-twenty he -made a very remarkable tour in the unsettled parts of North America. -Returning to England, he became a member of the Stock Exchange, wrote -some important papers upon subjects connected with commercial affairs, -and applied himself to astronomy in his leisure-hours. In 1820 he took a -conspicuous part in the foundation of the Astronomical Society. After -realising a competent fortune, he retired from business, and devoted -himself to his favourite pursuits. He died in 1844, in his seventieth -year, after performing a vast amount of valuable work, of which his -labours in the remodelling of the _Nautical Almanac;_ in the fixation of -the standard of length, involving more than 1200 hours’ watching the -oscillations of the pendulum; in the determination of the density of the -earth; and in the revision of catalogues of the stars,—were only a part. -He passed away with these memorable words almost upon his lips: “My life -is nearly closed. I leave life with the same tranquillity and equanimity -which I have generally felt and acted on in my personal intercourse with -friends and strangers. I have been blessed with uninterrupted health. In -short, I have had more than my share of terrestrial happiness, and leave -it, as fulfilling an inscrutable law of animal nature, with thankfulness -and resignation.” “Among Mr. Baily’s friends,” says Prof. de Morgan, -“there is surely not one who will venture to say positively that he ever -knew _a better or a happier man_.” - -The rise of Chantrey, the sculptor, from peasant-life was nobly earned. -He was born in the village of Norton, Derbyshire, in 1781, of parents in -humble circumstances. When a boy carrying milk to the next town, he -would stop to form grotesque figures of the yellow clay; and he moulded -his mother’s butter on churning-days into various forms. From his -fondness for drawing and modelling he was apprenticed to a carver and -gilder at Sheffield. Thence he came to London, and began to work at -carving in stone, not having received a single lesson from any sculptor; -and he laboured for eight years without earning 5_l._ in his profession. -At length, a single bust brought him 12,000_l._-worth of commissions, -and he rose to be the first sculptor of his day. He died in 1841, and -was buried in a tomb which he had built for himself in the churchyard of -his native village, where a granite obelisk has been raised to his -memory. He was ever mindful of his lowly origin; for when he had become -famous, and had received knighthood, at a party given by his patron, Mr. -Thomas Hope, Sir Francis Chantrey was observed to notice a piece of -carved furniture; on being asked the reason, he replied, “This was my -first work.” - -It is scarcely possible to name Chantrey without being reminded of his -friend, “honest Allan Cunningham,” who, born in the county of Dumfries, -in 1784, received but scanty education, and at the age of eleven was -apprenticed to a mason. In the intervals of his laborious occupation, -“he sought knowledge wherever he could obtain it,” and drew his earliest -poetic inspiration from the dear country of Burns—the wilds of -Nithsdale, and the lone banks of the Solway. Here he earned his daily -bread as a common stonemason until his twenty-sixth year, when he came -to London, wavering between labour and literature. He chose the latter, -in reporting for the newspapers; but, soon tired of its perplexities, he -resumed his first calling, and by a fortunate opportunity, to which his -own excellent character recommended him, he became foreman of the works -of Chantrey, in which honourable employment he remained until the -sculptor’s death, in 1841. In his intervals of business, by untiring -industry, Allan Cunningham produced a succession of works noteworthy in -the poetry and general literature of his day. His first poetry was -printed in 1807: he also wrote stirring romances; and in collecting -Tradition Tales of the Scottish Peasantry, by the light of an evening -fire, he sweetened many an hour of remission from daily labour. Later in -life he became a critic of the Fine Arts, and wrote with amiable -feeling, honesty, and candour, and mature and liberal taste: it was well -observed of him in his lifetime: “He needs no testimony either to his -intellectual accomplishments or his moral worth; nor, thanks to his own -virtuous diligence, does he need any patronage.” His genius and artistic -judgment have been inherited by his third son, Peter Cunningham, the -well-known critic, topographer, and antiquary.[115] - -The greatest author of the present century, whether we regard the -beneficial influence of his writings, or its extent, is Sir Walter -Scott. We have already spoken of his diligence and economy of time; his -characteristics as an author have been ably sketched as follows: - - With far less classical learning, fewer images derived from - travelling, inferior information on many historical subjects, and a - mind of a less impassioned and energetic cast than other writers of - his time, Sir Walter is far more deeply read in that book which is - ever the same—the human heart. This is his unequalled excellence: - there he stands, without a rival since the days of Shakspeare. It is - to this cause that his astonishing success has been owing. We feel - in his characters that it is not romance, but real life, which is - represented. Every word that is said, especially in the Scotch - novels, is nature itself. Homer, Cervantes, Shakspeare, and Scott, - alone have penetrated to the deep substratum of character, which, - however disguised by the varieties of climate and government, is at - bottom every where the same; and thence they have found a responsive - echo in every human heart. Every man who reads these admirable - works, from the North Cape to Cape Horn, feels that what the - characters they contain are made to say, is just what would have - occurred to themselves, or what they have heard said by others as - long as they lived. Nor is it only in the delineation of character, - and the knowledge of human nature, that the Scottish novelist, like - his great predecessors, is but for them without a rival. Powerful in - the pathetic, admirable in dialogue, unmatched in description, his - writings captivate the mind as much by the varied excellences which - they exhibit, as by the powerful interest which they maintain. He - has carried romance out of the region of imagination and sensibility - into the walks of actual life.[116] - -Isaac Disraeli, who died in 1848, at the age of eighty-two, was “a -complete literary character, a man who really passed his life in his -library. Even marriage produced no change in these habits: he rose to -enter the chamber where he lived alone with his books, and at night his -lamp was ever lit within the same walls.” His father destined him for -business; but this he opposed so strongly as to compose a long poem -against commerce, which he attempted to get published. In spite of all -his father could say or do, young Disraeli determined to become a -literary man. His first efforts were in poetry and romance; but he soon -found out that his true destiny was literary history; and in 1790 he -published anonymously _Curiosities of Literature_, the success of which -led him to devote the remainder of his long life to literary and -historical researches, which he prosecuted partly in the British Museum, -where he was a constant visitor when the _readers_ were not more than -half a dozen daily: he also worked in his own library, which was very -extensive. His _Curiosities_ reached eleven editions; and in -acknowledgment of his _Life and Reign of Charles I._ he was made D.C., -&c. by the University of Oxford. He is thus personally described by his -gifted son: - - He was fair, with a Bourbon nose, and brown eyes of extraordinary - beauty and lustre. He wore a small black-velvet cap, but his white - hair latterly touched his shoulders in curls almost as flowing as in - his boyhood. His extremities were delicate and well formed, and his - leg, at his last hour, as shapely as in his youth, which showed the - vigour of his frame. Latterly he had become corpulent. He did not - excel in conversation, though in his domestic circle he was - garrulous. Every thing interested him; and blind, and eighty-two, he - was still as susceptible as a child. One of his last acts was to - compose some verses of gay gratitude to his daughter-in-law, who was - his London correspondent, and to whose lively pen his last years - were indebted for constant amusement. He had by nature a singular - volatility, which never deserted him. His feelings, though always - amiable, were not painfully deep, and amid joy or sorrow the - philosophic vein was ever evident. He more resembled Goldsmith than - any man that I can compare him to: in his conversation his apparent - confusion of ideas ending with some felicitous phrase of genius, his - _naïveté_, his simplicity not untouched with a dash of sarcasm - affecting innocence—one was often reminded of the gifted and - interesting friend of Burke and Johnson. There was, however, one - trait in which my father did not resemble Goldsmith: he had no - vanity. Indeed, one of his few infirmities was rather a deficiency - of self-esteem. - -Mr. Disraeli had the pride and happiness to see the writer of the above, -Benjamin Disraeli, not only achieve high distinction in literature, but -become a minister of the Crown. We remember him in his twenty-fifth -year. “Who is that gentleman with a profusion of hair, whom I so often -see here?” was our inquiry of a publisher in Oxford-street. “That is -young Disraeli,” was the publisher’s reply; “and he would be glad to -execute any literary work for a guinea or two.” He had already produced -a piece of piquant satire, an _Account of the Great World_,[117] with a -Vocabulary; and shortly after there was announced for publication a -periodical to be called _The Star-Chamber_, to have been edited by Mr. -Disraeli. He published his first novel, _Vivian Grey_, in 1825; -_Coningsby_, a work of fiction and political history, he wrote chiefly -at Deepdene, in Surrey, the seat of his friend, Mr. H. T. Hope. Mr. -Disraeli entered Parliament in 1837: he succeeded Lord George Bentinck -as the Conservative leader; was Chancellor of the Exchequer under Lord -Derby’s administrations of 1852 and 1858-9; thus exemplifying that the -highest political honours are attainable in this country by intellectual -qualification for public life. - -Lord Macaulay, the brilliant essayist, historian, and orator, -exemplifies in his successful career how genius may be most profitably -nurtured by systematic education. Of quick perception and great power of -memory, when a boy he would tell long stories from the _Arabian Nights_ -and Scott’s novels; but the familiar books of his home were the Bible, -_Pilgrim’s Progress_, and a few Cameronian divines; and he was fond of -Scripture phraseology throughout his writings. He appears to have been a -great favourite of Hannah More, who thought him a little prodigy of -acquisition, and wrote of him, when on a visit to her in his boyhood: - - The quantity of reading that Tom has poured in, and the quantity of - writing he has poured out, is astonishing. We have poetry for - breakfast, dinner, and supper. He recited all _Palestine_ (Bishop - Heber’s poem), while we breakfasted, to our pious friend, Mr. - Whalley, at my desire, and did it incomparably.... I sometimes fancy - I observe a daily progress in the growth of his mental powers. His - fine promise of mind, too, expands more and more; and, what is - extraordinary, he has as much accuracy in his expression as spirit - and vivacity in his imagination. I like, too, that he takes a lively - interest in all passing events, and that _the child_ is still - preserved; I like to see him as boyish as he is studious, and that - he is as much amused with making a pat of butter as a poem. Though - loquacious, he is very docile; and I don’t remember a single - instance in which he has persisted in doing any thing when he saw we - did not approve it. Several men of sense and learning have been - struck with the union of gaiety and rationality in his conversation. - -More remarkable was the prevoyance of Macaulay’s power as a writer, -which Hannah More almost literally predicted: he cherished a warm -recollection of his obligations to her, and the influence she had in -directing his reading. He received his peerage in honour of his valuable -services to literature: he will long be remembered by his grasp of mind, -descriptive picturesqueness, strong feeling and vivid fancy, life-like -portraiture, and marvellous scenic skill. In his mastery of the art of -writing he was unrivalled. - -It may take the reader by surprise to be told that, astounding as the -career of Lord Brougham has been, the rise of this distinguished man to -the highest honour of the realm appears to have been predicted thirty -years before its attainment. At the Social Science dinner at the Crystal -Palace, Sydenham, on June 14th, 1862, at which Lord Brougham presided, -Mr. J. W. Napier, Ex-Chancellor of Ireland, related that he remembered, -some years previously, meeting an old and respected lady in the north of -England, who was present at a party when the first writers in the -_Edinburgh Review_, including Henry Brougham, dined together at -Edinburgh, after the publication of the Second Number of the Review (in -1802). On that occasion, the lady’s husband, Mr. Fletcher, remarked that -the writer of a certain paper in the Review, of which he knew not the -author, was fit to be any thing. Mr. Brougham hearing this, observed, -“What! do you think he is fit to be Lord Chancellor?” The reply was, -“Yes; and I tell you more: he will be Lord Chancellor;” and the old lady -had the happiness to live thirty years after this, and to see her friend -Lord Chancellor of England. Lord Brougham well remembered old Mrs. -Fletcher, and corroborated the accuracy of Mr. Napier’s anecdote. Mr. -Napier then proposed, in an affectionate manner, the health of Lord -Brougham, whose answer was, as he said, but a repetition of words he had -spoken thirty years ago elsewhere. But on the present occasion they were -perhaps even more appropriate, and in themselves singularly beautiful: -“When I cease from my labours, the cause of freedom, peace, and progress -will lose a friend, and no man living will lose an enemy.” The noble -lord was much affected, and it is needless to tell of the applause which -followed the sentiment. - -Henry Brougham was born in Edinburgh in 1779: his father was no -extraordinary man, but his mother is described as a woman of talent and -delightful character. The son was educated in Edinburgh, which, in 1857, -he declared in public he looked upon as a very great benefit conferred -on him by Providence. He was _dux_ of the Rector’s class at the -Edinburgh University in 1791; and he was preëminent in mathematics and -natural philosophy, in law, metaphysics, and political science. When not -more than seventeen, he contributed to the Royal Society a paper on the -Inflection and Reflection of Light; and next, a paper of Porisms in the -Higher Geometry. He chose the Scottish Bar as his profession; and, with -Horner, Jeffrey, and other Scottish Whigs, joined the renowned -Speculative Society for the sake of extemporaneous debate. He for some -time edited the _Edinburgh Review_, and was for five-and-twenty years -the most industrious and versatile of the contributors. In 1808 he was -called to the Bar at Lincoln’s Inn, and began to practise as an English -barrister. In 1810 he entered Parliament, and soon distinguished himself -on all the great questions of the day. His application to law, -literature, and science was alike intense. Sir Samuel Romilly said, he -seemed to have time for every thing; and Sydney Smith once recommended -him to confine himself to only the transaction of so much business as -three strong men could get through. Hazlitt, in a portrait-sketch taken -about 1825, says: - - Mr. Brougham writes almost as well as he speaks. In the midst of an - election contest he comes out to address the populace, and goes back - to his study to finish an article for the _Edinburgh Review_, - sometimes indeed wedging three or four articles in the shape of - _rifacimenti_ of his own pamphlets or speeches in Parliament in a - single Number. Such indeed is the activity of his mind, that it - appears to require neither repose nor any other stimulus than a - delight in its own exercise. He can turn his hand to any thing, but - he cannot be idle. He is, in fact, a striking instance of the - versatility and strength of the human mind, and also, in one sense, - of the length of human life: _if we make good use of our time, there - is room enough to crowd almost every art and science into it_. - -It is now nearly forty years since this was written, and it is almost as -applicable as ever. In 1828, in a debate in Parliament, Mr. Brougham -used the memorable words, “The schoolmaster is abroad.” He next, in a -speech of six hours’ delivery, moved for an inquiry into the state of -the Law; the Repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts, Catholic -Emancipation, and the Charities Commission, were next advocated by him; -and then, Parliamentary Reform, the Abolition of Punishment of Forgery -by Death, Local Courts, and the Abolition of Slavery. In 1830 he was -raised to the high office of Lord Chancellor. Mechanics’ Institutes, and -the foundation of University College, and the Diffusion of Useful -Knowledge, were next advocated by Lord Brougham. His Chancellorship was -brief. But he continued to labour for the next thirty years in Law -Reform and Social Science, and in aiding the progress of liberal -opinion. - -The universal energy which has marked Lord Brougham was thus ably summed -up, on the publication of his volume of scientific Tracts, in 1860: - - If the fact of his scientific researches were less well known, there - would be something quite startling in the announcement of a volume - of mathematical tracts from the hand of a man who has had half a - score of other occupations, each sufficient to engross the whole - mind of an ordinarily constituted mortal. To be great as a circuit - leader, all-powerful as a popular chief, triumphant as a reforming - Chancellor—to be the prominent figure in the Anti-Slavery movement, - the promoter of education, the concocter of law-reforming statutes - almost without number—the statesman of all parties, the citizen of - two countries, and the orator of a thousand platforms—might have - sufficed most ambitions, without the renown of literary success and - scientific effort. But, not content with the public achievements of - his life, or the obscure glory of anonymous literature, Lord - Brougham has striven to reproduce in an English dress the eloquence - of Demosthenes, and to correct the real or supposed errors of no - less a philosopher than Newton himself.... Philosophical theories - may survive Lord Brougham’s attacks, and _savans_ may forget his - speculations; but generations of Englishmen will long remember the - career of a man who has exhibited in a thousand forms an amount of - mental vitality which it would be difficult to parallel in the - history of the most restless and eager aspirants to the glory of - universal genius. - -It is impossible to reflect upon the politico-legal position of Lord -Brougham when he sat upon the woolsack, without remembering that -Brougham and Denman, at the trial of Queen Caroline, attacked with -virulence, then generally condemned, the Prince from whose hands, as -sovereign, ten years later, both received high legal office. This change -in feeling is alike creditable to all. - -One of the most remarkable men of our day was Professor Wilson, the -Editor of _Blackwood’s Magazine_, in the pages of which he is thus -characterised, from his bust in the Crystal Palace at Sydenham: he was -born at Paisley, in Scotland, in 1785; and died at Edinburgh, in 1854. - - The head tells the story of the whole man. It is the head of an - athlete, but an athlete possessing a soul, the grace of Apollo - sitting on the thews of Hercules. Such a man, you would say at once, - was none of your sedentary _litterati_, who appear to have the cramp - in their limbs whenever they move abroad, but one who could, like - the Greeks of old, ride, run, wrestle, box, dive, or throw the - discus at need, or put the stone like Ulysses himself, or one who - could do the same things, and in addition to them steer, pull an - oar, shoot, fish, follow hounds, or make a good score at cricket, - like a true Briton of modern times, in spite of all our physical and - intellectual degeneracy, about which, indeed, we have a right to be - sceptical, when we know that such an unmistakable man as Wilson was - living in the reign of Queen Victoria. It is an honour to Scotland - that she produced such a critic on Homer, only second to that which - is hers in having produced that poet who, of all the moderns, has - composed poetry the most Homeric—even Walter Scott. - - --------------------- -Footnote 112: - - Such a room as Mr. Egg has painted in his masterly picture of “The - Death of Chatterton;” and, curiously enough, the house above referred - to was nearly upon the same spot. - -Footnote 113: - - This was William, first Marquis of Lansdowne, who, as Earl of - Shelburne, was Prime Minister in 1782; the date of Mr. Britton’s visit - was 1798. By the Marquis’s kindness, he tells us that he left Bowood - for Chippenham loaded with books, and a copy of a large Survey of - Wiltshire, in eighteen folio sheets. The Marquis was a liberal patron - of Art, and commenced at Bowood and Shelburne House the formation of a - gallery of modern art; and his fine taste was amply inherited by his - son Henry, the third Marquis, who died at Bowood in January 1863. - -Footnote 114: - - We remember a similarly gratifying incident in early life. We had - scarcely reached twenty-one, when we had occasion to wait upon Mr. - Chamberlain Clark, to request of him some particulars of the house of - Cowley the poet, at Chertsey, which was then in Mr. Clark’s tenancy. - The bland old Chamberlain inquired if we had ever written a book; to - which the reply was, that we had a volume of topography in the press. - “Then please to put down my name for a copy,” kindly rejoined the - Chamberlain, although the work was merely of local interest. What - kindness in one who was the chastener of refractory apprentices and - the terror of evil-doers! - -Footnote 115: - - Mr. P. Cunningham, in the _Builder_, Feb. 14, 1863, writes as follows: - - “Chantrey died so suddenly that an inquest was held upon his body. I - was present. It was a solemn sight, not to be effaced whilst - unimpaired remembrance reigns. In an exquisite little gallery built - for him by Sir John Soane, lay (seen by many lighted tapers) the - breathless body and torpid hand that had given life to helpless clay - and shapeless stone. Around the body in its windingsheet were ranged - some of the finest casts from the antique that money and taste could - procure. Calm and solemn was the scene. My father kissed the cold - forehead of his friend with these words: “My dear master.” I looked - into his eyes as we left together; they were full of tears.”—_New - Materials for the Life of Chantrey._ - -Footnote 116: - - Sir Archibald Alison. - -Footnote 117: - - Published by Ridgway, Piccadilly, 1829. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - WEAR AND TEAR OF PUBLIC LIFE. - -The sudden death of Lord George Bentinck, the political leader, in 1848, -in his forty-seventh year, showed how the most ardent intellect and the -noblest frame are alike broken down by the turmoil of public life. After -a late debate in Parliament he would travel by rail many miles to hunt, -and return in time to attend the sittings of the House in the evening; -throwing a wrapper over his scarlet hunting-coat, and exercising -indefatigably the office of “whipper-in” in the House, and subsequently -leader of “the country party.” He had during these political avocations -continued his attention to racing and race-horses, declaring on one -occasion that the winning of the Derby was the “blue-ribbon” of the -turf. In August 1848 he retired to Welbeck Abbey for relaxation; he, -however, attended Doncaster races four times in one week, at which a -horse of his own breeding won the St. Leger stakes, to his great -gratification. On September 21st he left Welbeck on foot, soon after -four o’clock in the afternoon, to visit Earl Manvers, at Thoresby-park, -and sent his servants to meet him with a carriage at an appointed place. -He appeared not; the servants became alarmed; search was made for him; -but it was not till eleven at night that he was found quite dead, lying -on a footpath in a meadow about a mile from the house: his death having -been caused by spasms of the heart. In Cavendish-square has been set up -a colossal statue of this remarkable man: the pedestal simply bears his -name; his political and sporting celebrity has “waned with time; had the -awful circumstances of his death been inscribed upon the memorial, it -would have been a constant monition—a “siste viator”—of far greater -value than a political monument. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Home Traits. - - - LOVE OF HOME. - -ENGLAND is, above all other countries, favourable to individual -industry, and that energy of character which, developed and well -directed, succeeds in the world. Still, failure neither is nor ever has -been rare; and private munificence and public benevolence have provided -“many happy ports and havens” for those whose evening of life is clouded -with storm. We have visited not a few of these sacred places—these -palaces of philanthropy; we have gone about their buildings—their noble -halls glowing with comfort, and their tables beaming with good cheer. We -have for a brief hour enjoyed the quiet of these retreats, and thought -how their decayed brethren, jaded with adversity and buffeted with -misfortune, may find here that consolation and repose which the outside -world has denied them. These may be found in the fellowship of the -dining-hall, the social walk in the garden, and the assembling for -worship in the chapel. All this, however, is but the bright side of this -mode of life; and when the time arrives for the brethren to retire, each -to his solitary chamber, then comes the pang of isolation from the -world—even the ungrateful world! And, perchance, they look from the -casement upon the larger foundation-buildings, and are by them still -more forcibly reminded that this noble place is _not their own_—in -short, that it presents not the joys nor the delights which are conveyed -to the sensitive heart by that brief but touching word—HOME! - -It is scarcely possible to overrate the importance of this love of home -in our scheme of earthly happiness. Southey has well observed: “Whatever -strengthens our local attachments is favourable both to individual and -national character. Our home, our birthplace, our native land; think, -for a while, what the virtues are which rise out of the feelings -connected with these words.” - -Then, how is man, in the loneliness we have referred to, parted from the -sweet solace he most needs in his hour of woe! Such consolation has been -thus picturesquely bodied forth by one of our happiest writers on -domestic life: “As the vine, which has long twined its graceful foliage -about the oak, and been lifted by it into sunshine, will, when the hardy -plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its caressing -tendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs; so it is beautifully ordered -by Providence, that woman, who is the mere dependent and ornament of man -in his happier hours, should be his stay and solace when smitten with -sudden calamity; winding herself into the rugged recesses of his nature, -tenderly supporting the drooping head, and binding up the broken -heart.”[118] - - --------------------- -Footnote 118: - - Washington Irving. - - ---------------------------- - - - FAMILY PORTRAITS. - -We remember reading a humorous sketch entitled, “The late Mr. Smith,” -whose portrait after his death was removed by his widow to the -lumber-room, lest it should be displeasing to her second husband: -occasionally the children would bring out the portrait, and with a rusty -foil run “the ugly old man” through the eyes. - -Here we have one of the reasons why family portraits are so often thrust -aside; but there are several others. The Rev. Mr. Eagles relates the -following, in _Blackwood’s Magazine:_ “I remember, when a boy, walking -with an elderly gentleman, and passing a broker’s stall, there was the -portrait of a fine florid gentleman in regimentals. He stopped to look -at it—he might have bought it for a few shillings. After he had gone -away—‘That,’ said he, ‘is the portrait of my wife’s great uncle—member -for the county, and colonel of militia: you see how he is degraded to -these steps.’ ‘Why do you not rescue him?’ said I. ‘Because he left me -nothing,’ was the reply. A relative of mine, an old lady, hit upon a -happy device; the example is worth following. Her husband was the last -of his race, for she had no children. She took all the family portraits -out of their frames, rolled up all the pictures, and put them in the -coffin with the deceased.” - -Sheridan has turned an incident of this class to admirable account, in -his _School for Scandal_, in the reservation of Uncle Oliver’s portrait -from sale. - -Sometimes a good picture has unpleasant associations. “That is an -excellent portrait of Ireland, the Shakspeare forger,” said a collector -to a picture-dealer in Wardour-street; whose ready reply was, “Will you -buy it, sir? it is but half a guinea.” “No,” answered the other; “it -would seem either that I admired Ireland’s dishonest ingenuity, or that -I had been his friend.” - - ---------------------------- - - - HOW TO KEEP FRIENDS. - -When Goldsmith once talked to Johnson of the difficulty of living on -very intimate terms with any one with whom you differed on an important -topic, Johnson replied: “Why, sir, _you must shun the subject as to -which you disagree_. For instance, I can live very well with Burke; I -love his knowledge, his genius, his diffusion, and effulgence of -conversation; but I would not talk to him of the Rockingham party.” - -Mr. Helps, in his admirable work, _Friends in Council_, well observes: -“A rule for living happily with others is to avoid having stock subjects -of disputation. It mostly happens, when people live much together, that -they come to have certain set topics, around which, from frequent -dispute, there is such a growth of angry words, mortified vanity, and -the like, that the original difference becomes a standing subject for -quarrel; and there is a tendency in all minor disputes to drift down to -it. Again: if people wish to live well together, they must not hold too -much to logic, and supposing every thing is to be settled by sufficient -reason. Dr. Johnson saw this clearly with regard to married people when -he said, ‘Wretched would be the pair, above all names of wretchedness, -who should be doomed to adjust by reason every morning all the minute -detail of a domestic day.’ But the application should be much more -general than he made it. There is no time for such reasonings, and -nothing that is worth them. And when we recollect how two lawyers, or -two politicians, can go on contending, and that there is no end of -one-sided reasoning on any subject, we shall not be sure that such -contention is the best mode for arriving at truth. But certainly it is -not the way to arrive at good temper.” - -The most gifted men are least addicted to depreciate either friends or -foes. Dr. Johnson, Mr. Burke, and Mr. Fox were always more inclined to -overrate them; your shrewd, sly, evil-speaking fellow is generally a -shallow person; and frequently he is as venomous, as false when he -flatters as when he reviles. He seldom praises John but to vex Thomas. - - ---------------------------- - - - SMALL COURTESIES. - -How much politeness and winning of the affections exist in small -courtesies, is well exemplified in the following anecdote related by a -lady of a gentleman who had been the politest man of his generation. On -returning once from school for the holidays, she had been put under his -charge for the journey. They stopped for the night at a Cornish inn. -Supper was ordered, and soon there appeared a dainty dish of woodcocks. -Her cavalier led her to the board with the air of a Grandison, and then -proceeded to place all the legs of the birds on her plate. At first, -with her school-girl prejudices in favour of wings and in disfavour of -legs and drumsticks, she felt rather angered at having these (as she -supposed) uninviting and least delicate parts imposed upon her; but in -after years, when gastronomic light had beamed on her, and the -experience of many suppers brought true appreciation, she did full -justice to the memory of the man who could sacrifice such _morceaux_ as -woodcocks’ thighs to the crude appetite of a girl, and who could thus -show his innate deference for womanhood even in such budding form. - - ---------------------------- - - - LASTING FRIENDSHIPS. - -The man who ill-naturedly said that the church would not hold his -acquaintance, but the pulpit would contain his friends, cannot be -congratulated upon the disproportion. - -“Who is your friend?” is an every-day question, probably never better -answered than in the following forcible and eloquent rebuke by a modern -writer: - - Concerning the man you call your friend, tell me, will he weep with - you in the hour of distress? Will he faithfully reprove to your - face, for actions which others are ridiculing or censuring behind - your back? Will he dare to stand forth in your defence, when - detraction is secretly aiming its deadly weapons at your reputation? - Will he acknowledge you with the same cordiality, and behave to you - with the same friendly attention, in the company of your superiors - in rank and fortune, as when the claims of pride or vanity do not - interfere with those of friendship? If misfortune and losses should - oblige you to retire into a walk of life in which you cannot appear - with the same distinction, or entertain your friends with the same - liberality as formerly, will he still think himself happy in your - society, and, instead of withdrawing himself from an unprofitable - connexion, take pleasure in professing himself your friend, and - cheerfully assist you to support the burden of your afflictions? - When sickness shall call you to retire from the gay and busy scenes - of the world, will he follow you into your gloomy retreat, listen - with attention to your “tale of symptoms,” and minister the balm of - consolation to your fainting spirits? And lastly, when death shall - burst asunder every earthly tie, will he shed a tear upon your - grave, and lodge the dear remembrance of your mutual friendship in - his heart, as a treasure never to be resigned? The man who will - _not_ do all this may be your companion,—your flatterer,—but, depend - upon it, _he is not your friend_. - -Southey has left this charming picture of Friendship which ceases but -with existence: - - It may safely be affirmed that generous minds, when they have once - known each other, never can be alienated as long as both retain the - characteristics which brought them into union. No distance of place - or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are - thoroughly persuaded of each other’s worth. There are even some - broken attachments in friendship, as well as in love, which nothing - can destroy, and it sometimes happens that we are not conscious of - their strength till after the disruption. There are a few persons - known to me in years long past, but with whom I lived in no - particular intimacy then, and have held no correspondence since, - whom I could not now meet without an emotion of pleasure deep enough - to partake of pain, and who, I doubt not, entertain for me feelings - of the same kind and degree—whose eyes sparkle when they hear, and - glisten sometimes when they speak of me, and who think of me, as I - do of them, with an affection that increases as we advance in years. - This is because our moral and intellectual sympathies have - strengthened, and because, though far asunder, we know that we are - travelling the same road towards our resting-place in heaven. “There - is such a pleasure as this,” says Cowper, “which would want - explanation to some folks, being perhaps a mystery to those whose - hearts are a mere muscle, and serve only for the purpose of an even - circulation.”[119] - -And Professor Wilson has written these words of sweet consolation for -the loss of friends: - - Friends are lost to us by removal—for then even the dearest are - often utterly forgotten. But let something that once was theirs - suddenly meet our eyes, and in a moment, returning from the region - of the rising or the setting sun, the friend of our youth seems at - our side, unchanged his voice and his smile; or dearer to our eyes - than ever, because of some affecting change wrought on face and - figure by climate and by years. Let it be but his name written with - his own hand on the title-page of a book; or a few syllables on the - margin of a favourite passage which long ago we may have read - together, “when life itself was new,” and poetry overflowed the - whole world; or a lock of _her_ hair in whose eyes we first knew the - meaning of the word “depth.” And if death hath stretched out the - absence into the dim arms of eternity, and removed the distance away - into that bourne from which no traveller returns—the absence and the - distance of her on whose forehead once hung the relic we adore—what - heart may abide the beauty of the ghost that doth sometimes at - midnight appear at our sleepless bed, and with pale uplifted arms - waft over us at once a blessing and a farewell! - -It rarely happens that broken friendships can be repaired or renewed. -Mrs. Richard Trench, in her Journal, relates this remarkable instance of -a failure: - - At last, after an interval of twenty-four years, which succeeded a - tolerably intimate acquaintance of seven weeks, I saw Count Münster - of Hanover again. We met like two ghosts that ought to have been - laid long since. I witnessed the whole process of the difficulty of - persuading him that I was I; and I thought him as much changed in - his degree as he could have found me. When we conversed, all the - persons we referred to were dead and gone; and our interview added - another link in my mind to the chain of proofs that, after a very, - very long interval, neither friends nor acquaintance ought to meet - in this world. He was kindly anxious to renew our acquaintance, and - visited me next day; but still it seemed as if seeing me had renewed - some painful associations. - - --------------------- -Footnote 119: - - _The Doctor._ - - ---------------------------- - - - TRUE TONE OF POLITE WRITING. - -Sir James Mackintosh, who has sometimes been unfairly characterised as a -writer of drawing-room essays, has left the following able view of what -may be termed “the True Tone of Polite Writing,”—a rare accomplishment -even in these days of assumed facility and literary pretension: - - When a woman of feeling, fancy, and accomplishment has learned to - converse with ease and grace, from long intercourse with the most - polished society, and when she writes as she speaks, she must write - letters as they ought to be written, if she has acquired just as - much habitual correctness as is reconcilable with the air of - negligence. A moment of enthusiasm, a burst of feeling, a flash of - eloquence, may be allowed; but the intercourse of society, either in - conversation or in letters, allows no more. Though interdicted from - the long-continued use of elevated language, they are not without a - resource. There is a part of language which is disdained by the - pedant or the declaimer, and which both, if they knew its - difficulty, would approach with dread; it is formed of the most - familiar phrases and turns in daily use by the generality of men, - and is full of energy and vivacity, bearing upon it the marks of - those keen feelings and strong passions from which it springs. It is - the employment of such phrases which produces what may be called - colloquial eloquence. Conversation and letters may be thus raised to - any degree of animation, without departing from their character. Any - thing may be said, if it be spoken in the tone of society. The - highest guests are welcome if they come in the easy undress of the - club: the strongest metaphor appears without violence, if it is - _familiarly_ expressed; and we the more easily catch the warmest - feeling, if we perceive that it is intentionally lowered in - expression, out of condescension to our calmer temper. It is thus - that harangues and declamations, the last proof of bad taste and bad - manners in conversation, are avoided, while the fancy and the heart - find the means of pouring forth all their stores. To meet this - despised part of language in a polished dress, and producing all the - effects of wit and eloquence, is a constant source of agreeable - surprise. This is increased, when a few bolder and higher words are - happily wrought into the texture of this familiar eloquence. To find - what seems so unlike author-craft in a book raises the pleasing - astonishment to its highest degree. I once thought of illustrating - my notions by numerous examples from “La Sevigné.” And I must, some - day or other, do so; though I think it the resource of a bungler who - is not enough master of language to convey his conceptions into the - minds of others. The style of Madame de Sevigné is evidently copied, - not only by her worshiper, Walpole, but even by Gray; who, - notwithstanding the extraordinary merits of his matter, has the - double stiffness of an imitator and of a college recluse. - - ---------------------------- - - - PRIDE AND MEANNESS. - -Rousseau has well described this association of Pride and Stinginess, -which is very common: “We take from nature, from real pleasures, nay, -from the stock of necessaries, what we lavish upon opinion. One man -adorns his palace at the expense of his kitchen; another prefers a fine -service of plate to a good dinner; a third makes a sumptuous -entertainment, and starves himself the rest of the year. When I see a -sideboard richly decorated, I expect the wine to be very indifferent. -How often in the country, when we breathe the fresh morning air, are we -not tempted by the prospect of a fine garden! We rise early, and by -walking gain a keen appetite, which makes us wish for breakfast. Perhaps -the domestic is out of the way, or provisions are wanting, or the lady -has not given her orders, and you are tired to death with waiting. -Sometimes people prevent your desires, or make you a very pompous offer -of every thing, upon condition that you accept of nothing. You must fast -till three o’clock, or breakfast with the tulips. I remember to have -walked in a very beautiful park, which belonged to a lady who, though -extremely fond of coffee, never drank any but when at a very low price; -yet she liberally allowed her gardener a salary of a thousand crowns. -For my part, I should choose to have tulips less finely variegated, and -to drink coffee whenever my appetite called for it.” - - ---------------------------- - - - HOME THOUGHTS. - -There is much to be learned from domestic annals. Southey has well -observed: “The history of any private family, however humble, could it -be fairly related for five or six generations, would illustrate the -state and progress of society better than could be done by the most -elaborate historian.” - -Cheerfulness and a festival spirit fills the soul full of harmony; it -composes music for churches and hearts; it makes and publishes -glorifications of God; it produces thankfulness, and serves the ends of -charity; and when the oil of gladness runs over, it makes bright and -tall emissions of holy fires, reaching up to a cloud, and making joy -round about: and therefore, since it is so innocent, and may be so -pious, and full of holy advantage, whatever can minister to this holy -joy does set forward the work of religion and charity.[120] - -In how delightful a strain has the same writer said: “There is some -virtue or other to be exercised, whatever happens, either patience or -thanksgiving, love or fear, moderation or humility, charity or -contentedness; and they are, every one of them, equally in order to his -great end and immortal felicity: and beauty is not made by white or red, -by black eyes and a round face, by a straight body and a smooth skin, -but by a proportion to the fancy. Whatever we talk, things are as they -are; not as we grant, dispute, or hope, depending on neither our -affirmative nor negative; but upon the rate and value which God sets -upon things.” - -Lord Macaulay, too, has left us this touching picture: - - Children, look in those eyes, listen to that dear voice, notice the - feeling of even a single touch that is bestowed upon you by that - gentle hand! Make much of it while yet you have that most precious - of all good gifts—a loving mother. Read the unfathomable love of - those eyes; the kind anxiety of that tone and look, however slight - your pain. In after-life you may have friends—fond, dear, kind - friends—but never will you have again the inexpressible love and - gentleness lavished upon you which none but a mother bestows. Often - do I sigh in my struggles with the hard, uncaring world, for the - sweet, deep security I felt when, of an evening, nestling to her - bosom, I listened to some quiet tale, suitable to my age, read in - her tender and untiring voice. Never can I forget her sweet glances - cast upon me when I appeared asleep; never her kiss of peace at - night. Years have passed away since we laid her beside my father in - the old churchyard; yet still her voice whispers from the grave, and - her eye watches over me as I visit spots long since hallowed to the - memory of my mother. - -We pass from these traits of sweet simplicity to a lesson for riper age, -by a living writer of sterling humour: - - It is better for you to pass an evening once or twice a week in a - lady’s drawing-room, even though the conversation is slow, and you - know the girl’s song by heart, than in a club, tavern, or the pit of - a theatre. All amusements of youth to which virtuous women are not - admitted, rely on it, are deleterious to their nature. All men who - avoid female society have dull perceptions and are stupid, or have - gross tastes and revolt against what is pure. Your club-swaggerers, - who are sucking the butts of billiard-cues all night, call female - society insipid. Poetry is uninspiring to a yokel; beauty has no - charms for a blind man; music does not please a poor beast who does - not know one tune from another; but as a true epicure is hardly ever - tired of water, sancey, and brown bread and butter, I protest I can - sit for a whole night talking to a well-regulated, kindly woman - about her girl Fanny or her boy Frank, and like the evening’s - entertainment. One of the great benefits a man may derive from - woman’s society is, that he is bound to be respectful to her. The - habit is of great good to your moral men, depend upon it. Our - education makes of use the most eminently selfish men in the world. - We fight for ourselves, we push for ourselves, we yawn for - ourselves, we light our pipes and say we won’t go out, we prefer - ourselves and our ease; and the greatest that comes to a man from a - woman’s society is, that he has to think of somebody to whom he is - bound to be constantly attentive and respectful.—_Thackeray._ - -Every virtue enjoined by Christianity as a virtue, is recommended by -politeness as an accomplishment. Gentleness, humility, deference, -affability, and a readiness to assist and serve on all occasions, are as -necessary in the composition of a true Christian as in that of a -well-bred man. Passion, moroseness, peevishness, and supercilious -self-sufficiency, are equally repugnant to the characters of both, who -differ in this only, that the true Christian really is what the -well-bred man pretends to be, and would still be better bred if he -was.—_Soame Jenyns._ - - --------------------- -Footnote 120: - - Jeremy Taylor. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - The Spirit of the Age. - - - - - ---------------------------- - - - PROGRESS OF KNOWLEDGE. - -THE zeal which Albert, Prince Consort, evinced in furthering good -works,—his sympathy with the wants of the poor, their bodily health and -comfort, and their intellectual and moral culture,—will long endear his -memory to the grateful people of the country of his adoption. - -It was a characteristic of his genius that he would never consent to -take the lead in any movement until he had, as far as possible, -satisfied himself of its proper object and practicability. That he fully -understood and appreciated the requirements of the age, is evident from -the following passage in one of his manly Addresses: - -“Whilst formerly the greatest mental energies strove at universal -knowledge, and that knowledge was confined to the few, now they are -directed on specialities, and in these again even to the minutest -points; but the knowledge acquired becomes at once the property of the -community at large; for, whilst formerly discovery was wrapped in -secrecy, the publicity of the present day causes, that no sooner is a -discovery or invention made, than it is already improved upon and -surpassed by competing efforts. The products of all quarters of the -globe are placed at our disposal, and we have only to choose which is -the best and the cheapest for our purposes, and the powers of production -are intrusted to the stimulus of competition and capital. So man is -approaching a more complete fulfilment of that great and sacred mission -which he has to perform in this world. His reason being created after -the image of God, he has to use it to discover the laws by which the -Almighty governs His creation, and, by making these laws his standard of -action, to conquer nature to his use; himself a Divine instrument. -Science discovers these laws of power, motion, and transformation; -industry applies them to the raw matter, which the earth yields us in -abundance, but which become valuable only by knowledge. Art teaches us -the immutable laws of beauty and symmetry, and gives to our productions -forms in accordance to them.” Again: “To the human mind nothing is so -fascinating as progress. It is not what we have long had that we most -prize. We highly prize new accessions; but we enjoy almost unconsciously -gifts, of far more value, we have long been in possession of. This is -our nature; thus we are constituted. It is not surprising, therefore, -that we should have a peculiar relish for new discoveries. The interest -of discovery, however, is not permanent. For a time we are dazzled by -its brilliancy; but gradually the impression fades away, and at last is -lost entirely in the splendour of some fresh discovery which carries -with it the charm of novelty. When we reflect upon this, we cannot help -perceiving in how very different a state the world would be from what it -is if mankind in the beginning had been in the possession of all the -knowledge we now have, and there had been no progress ever since.” - -There is no royal death within memory of the present generation which -has caused such grave and regretful reflection as the sudden manner in -which the Prince Consort was taken from our beloved Sovereign and her -family, at the close of the year 1861. The nearest approach to the -public sorrow upon this melancholy occasion was the universal sympathy -expressed on the loss of the Princess Charlotte, in 1817, when the -mother and offspring were at once swept by the hand of death into the -same grave! Put widespread as was the lamentation of the people for -their hopes being thus crushed, it differed in this respect from the -sorrow for the Prince Consort,—that in the one case expectation was -blighted, but in the other realisation was extinguished when the fruits -of superior intelligence were fast ripening into the maturity of true -greatness. - -Since the death of the Prince the country has learned the full extent of -its loss by this sad event. Yet it was plainly asserted in the _Leader_ -newspaper, ten years ago, that the Prince was “becoming the most popular -man in England;” and the reader was assured that the above paper was -written to put the Prince’s “position and his services in the point of -view in which we may comprehend him, and be grateful to him.” This -statement was unheeded at the time it was made; but, in the year -following, other journalists had discovered that the Prince had some -voice in English foreign policy,—a charge which was admitted to be true -by Ministers in Parliament. Public attention was then turned in an -entirely different direction, and the Prince resumed his powerful -popular position. Yet his weighty influence, as we have said, was not -fully made known until recently. We have seen but one acknowledgment of -the service of the well-informed and far-seeing writer in the _Leader_, -and to this was not attached his name. We therefore add, in justice to -the memory of a man of rare talent, and the right spirit of -independence, which is the best characteristic of a public journalist, -that the writer in question was the late Mr. E. M. Whitty, who reprinted -the above in _The Governing Classes of Great Britain_. - - ---------------------------- - - - SPECIAL PROVIDENCE IN SCIENCE. - -The records of science furnish us with examples in which complicated -causes have operated through vast periods of duration anterior to man’s -existence, or even anterior to that of the existence of any of the more -perfect animals, in order to provide for the wants and happiness of -those animals, especially of man. Laws, apparently conflicting and -irregular in their action, have been so controlled and directed, and -made to conspire, as to provide for the wants of civilised life untold -ages before man’s existence. In those early times, vast forests, for -instance, might have been growing along the shores of estuaries; and -these dying, were buried deep in the mud, there to accumulate thick beds -of vegetable matter over huge areas; and this, by a long series of -changes, was at length converted into coal. This could be of no use -whatever till man’s existence, nor even then, till civilisation had -taught him to employ the substance for his comfort, and for a great -variety of useful arts. - -Dr. Hitchcock illustrates this position as follows: Look, for instance, -at the small island of Great Britain. At this day 15,000 steam-engines -are driven by means of coal, with a power equal to that of 2,000,000 of -men; and thus is put into operation machinery equalling the unaided -power of 300,000,000 or 400,000,000 of men. The influence thence -emanating reaches the remotest portions of the globe, and tends mightily -to the civilisation and happiness of the race. And is all this an -accidental effect of nature’s laws? Is it not rather a striking example -of special protective providence? What else but divine power, intent -upon a specific purpose, could have so directed the countless agencies -employed through so many ages as to bring about such marvellous -results?[121] - - --------------------- -Footnote 121: - - _Religious Truth illustrated from Science._ - - ---------------------------- - - - SCIENTIFIC PROGRESS. - -School-learning is, undoubtedly, the best foundation: “In all industrial -pursuits connected with the natural sciences, in fact in all pursuits -not simply dependent on manual dexterity, the development of the -intellectual faculties, by what may be termed ’school-learning,’ -constitutes the basis and chief condition of progress and of every -improvement. A young man with a mind well stored with solid scientific -acquirements will, without difficulty or effort, master the technical -part of an industrial pursuit; whereas, in general, an individual who -may be thoroughly master of the technical part is altogether incapable -of seizing upon any new fact that has not previously presented itself to -him, or of comprehending a scientific principle and its application.” - -Lord Stanhope has thus strikingly illustrated the subject: - - See how the field of human knowledge is extended. Within the last - fifty years there is scarce a branch of knowledge, even in those - which have been explored for hundreds of years—classical learning, - for example—which has not received some new and important additions. - But not only this; it may be said that new sciences have been - discovered. Who, seventy or eighty years ago, thought or heard of - the name of geology, or of men like Cuvier, who by their genius have - brought back to us the forms of long-extinct animals, and the state - of the earth as it must have existed thousands of years ago? Who - could have imagined that in art such vast resources should have been - opened up to us, as, for instance, the now-familiar science of - photography supplies? Who would have imagined that railways, which - have enabled us at so quick a rate to have communication with all - parts of the country, would become a study of well-regulated - curiosity; or that the instantaneous power of transmission which we - possess in the electric telegraph should be imparted to the whole of - the people who now crowd these busy shores? - -Some of the noblest triumphs of science, however, do but show the -shortsightedness of man, and seem to dictate to him that great results -can only be obtained by gradual and patient labour, as if to keep in -check his overweening conceit. This is illustrated in the discovery of -Voltaism. “When Galvani,” says Lord Brougham, in his powerful manner, -“observed the contortions of the muscle in a dead frog, or even when -Volta gave an explanation of them, how little could it be foreseen that -the discovery would lead not only to the decomposition of bodies which -had resisted all attempts to ascertain their constituent parts, and -bring us acquainted with substances wholly unlike any before known, as -metals that floated in water and took fire on exposure to the air; but, -after having thus changed the face of chemical science, should also -impress a new character upon the moral, judicial, and political world! -Yet this has undeniably been the result of the discovery made by Volta.” - -The histories of invention present many instances of “the slip between -the cup and the lip.” New modes of lighting have been very productive of -such disappointments. About thirty years since was patented a light by -the admixture of the vapour of hydrocarbons with atmospheric air, so as -to produce an illumination equal in brilliancy to that of the purest -gas; the power of light from a ten-hole burner equalling that of -22-1/8th wax-candles. This invention had been a long and costly labour; -a single set of experiments having cost 500_l._ At length the patent was -sold to a company for the large sum of 28,000_l._; a plant was -established, licenses were advertised for sale, and, among the confident -promises, it was held out that the gas-pipes and mains of the existing -companies might be bought up for the requirements of this new light! But -the working of the invention did not succeed in detail (indeed, it had -been purchased with the knowledge that it was incomplete); and the -entire capital invested, some 40,000_l._ or 50,000_l._, was lost! - - ---------------------------- - - - TIME AND IMPROVEMENT. - -The Rev. Dr. Temple, in his glowing Essay, “Education of the World,” -thus maintains that all human improvement is the result of the -accumulations of Time: - - To the spirit all things that exist must have a purpose, and nothing - can pass away till that purpose be fulfilled. The lapse of time is - no exception to this demand. Each moment of time, as it passes, is - taken up in the shape of permanent results into the time that - follows, and only perishes by being converted into something more - substantial than itself. Thus, each successive age incorporates into - itself the substance of the preceding,—the power whereby the present - ever gathers itself into the past, transforms the human race into a - colossal man, whose life reaches from the Creation to the Day of - Judgment. The successive generations of men are days in this man’s - life. The discoveries and inventions which characterise the - different epochs of the world’s history are his works. The creeds - and doctrines, the opinions and principles of the successive ages, - are his thoughts. The states of society at different times are his - manners. He grows in knowledge, in self-control, in visible size, - just as we do. And his education is in the same way, and for the - same reason, precisely similar to ours. All this is no figure, but - only a compendious statement of a very comprehensive fact. - - ---------------------------- - - - EVIL INFLUENCES. - -It has been asked by a great author, “What does it signify whether you -deny a God or speak ill of Him?”—a question well answered by another -sage, when he declares, “I would rather men should say that there never -was such a man as Plutarch, than that Plutarch was an ill-natured, -mischievous fellow.” - -Nearly eighty years ago Mr. Sharp wrote, “There can be no reasonable -doubt that it is better to believe too much than too little; since, as -Boswell observes (most probably in Johnson’s words), ‘A man may breathe -in foul air, but he must die in an exhausted receiver.’” - -Much of the scepticism that we meet with is necessarily affectation or -conceit; for it is as likely that the ignorant, weak, and indolent -should become mathematicians as reasoning unbelievers. Patient study and -perfect impartiality must precede rational conviction, whether ending in -faith or doubt. Need it be asked, how many are capable of such an -examination? But whether they come honestly by their opinions or not, it -is much more advisable to refute than to burn, or even to scorch them. - -It has been shrewdly remarked by a contemporary: - - All the voices which have any real influence with an Englishman in - easy circumstances combine to stimulate a low form of energy, which - stifles every high one. The newspapers extol his wisdom by assuming - that the average intelligence which he represents is, under the name - of public opinion, the ultimate and irresponsible ruler of the - nation. The novels which he and his family devour with insatiable - greediness have no tendency to rouse his imagination, to say nothing - of his mind. They are pictures of the every-day life to which he has - always been accustomed,—sarcastic, sentimental, or ludicrous, as the - case may be,—but never rising to any thing which could ever suggest - the existence of tragic dignity or ideal beauty. The human mind has - made considerable advances in the last three-and-twenty centuries; - but the thousands of Greeks who could enjoy not only Euripides, but - Homer and Æschylus, were superior, in some important points, to the - millions of Englishmen who in their inmost hearts prefer Pickwick to - Shakspeare. Even the religion of the present day is made to suit the - level of commonplace Englishmen. There was a time when Christianity - meant the embodiment of all truth and holiness in the midst of a - world lying in wickedness. It afterwards included law, liberty, and - knowledge, as opposed to the energetic ignorance of the northern - barbarians. It now too often means philanthropic societies—excellent - things as far as they go, but rather small. Any doctrine now is - given up if it either seems uncomfortable or likely to make a - disturbance. It is almost universally assumed that the truth of an - opinion is tested by its consistency with cheerful views of life and - nature. Unpleasant doctrines are only preached under incredible - forms, and thus serve to spice the enjoyments which they would - otherwise destroy.[122] - - --------------------- -Footnote 122: - - _Cornhill Magazine._ - - ---------------------------- - - - WORLDLY MORALITY. - -Professor Blackie, in his eloquent Edinburgh Essay, has these stringent -remarks upon the lax morality of the day: - - There is in the world always a respectable sort of surface - morality,—and nowhere more than in this British world at the present - hour,—a morality of convenience and utility, which pays respect to - the principles of right and wrong when generally formalised, but - which recognises them practically only in so far as local customs - and decencies, proprieties, etiquettes, and the round of certain - “inevitable charities,” are willing to recognise them. This morality - many a consumer of beefsteaks and swiller of porter in this lusty - and material land accepts, after eighteen hundred years of Gospel - preaching, as quite sufficient for all the purposes of a respectable - English life. But the perverse maxims and vicious practices with - which our British society is rank, make it evident to the most - superficial glance how far the current morality of our trades and - parties is from seeking to accommodate itself to the principles of - extreme moral purity laid down in every page of the New Testament. A - sermon may be a very proper thing as Sunday work, and may help to - bridge the way to heaven, when a bridge shall be required; but on - Monday a man must attend to his business, and act according to the - maxims of his trade, of his party, of his corporation, of his - vestry. Then the respectable sporting-man will stake his last - thousand on the leg of a race-horse, and think it quite like a - Christian gentleman to allow his tailor’s bill to be unpaid for - another year; then the respectable Highland proprietor will refuse - to renew the lease to the industrious poor cotter on his estate, - that the people, for whom he cares nothing, may make way for the - red-deer, which it is his only passion to stalk; then the - respectable brewer, instead of preparing wholesome drink from - wholesome grain, will infect his brewst with deleterious drugs in - order to excite a factitious thirst in the stomach of his customers, - and increase the amount of drinking; then a respectable corporation, - to maintain their own “vested rights,” will move heaven and earth to - prevent the national parliament from acting on the plainest rules of - justice and common sense in a matter seriously affecting the public - well-being; and the respectable members of society shall flutter - round the gilded wax-lights of aristocracy, and perform worship at - Hudson’s statue, and have respect to men with gold rings and goodly - apparel, and do every thing that is expressly forbidden in the - second chapter of the Epistle of James, which they profess to - receive as a divine rule of conduct. These are only one or two of - the more glaring points in which our commonly-received maxims and - practice of respectable British life run directly in the face of - that highest morality, which the most religious and church-going - Englishman professes to acknowledge as his rule of conduct. - -Professor Blackie concludes with the gospel text, “What shall it profit -a man, if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?” which the -Professor applies in the plain practical question: “What will it profit -England to spin more cotton, to pile more money-bags, to set more -steam-coaches a-going, if Mammon is to be worshiped every where, rather -than virtue and wisdom?” &c. - - ---------------------------- - - - SPEAKING THE TRUTH. - -One of the sublimest things in the world is plain Truth. Indeed it is so -sublime as to be entirely out of the reach of many people. - -The ancients said many fine things of Truth; but nothing to exceed in -practical worth the love of Truth shown by the great Duke of Wellington -in every phase of his wonderful career, of which the majority of us have -been, more or less, contemporary witnesses. - -“The foundation of all justice,” said this truly great man, “is Truth; -and the mode of discovering truth has always been to administer an oath, -in order that the witness may give his depositions under a high -sanction.” - -Elsewhere he said, when advocating the cause of the Church of England, -“I am resolved to tell plainly and honestly what I think, quite -regardless of the odium I may incur from those whose prejudices my -candour and sincerity may offend. I am here to speak the truth, and not -to flatter the prejudices of any man. In speaking the truth, I shall -utter it in the language that truth itself most naturally suggests. It -is upon her native strength—upon her own truth—it is upon her spiritual -character, and upon the purity of her doctrines, that the Church of -England rests.” - -When, upon the death of Sir Robert Peel, the Duke of Wellington sought -to express what seemed to him most admirable in the character of his -friend, he said that he was _the truest man he had ever known;_ adding: -“I was long connected with him in public life. We were both in the -councils of our sovereign together, and I had long the honour to enjoy -his private friendship. In all the course of my acquaintance with Sir -Robert Peel, I never knew a man in whose truth and justice I had a more -lively confidence, or in whom I saw a more invariable desire to promote -the public service. In the whole course of my communication with him I -never knew an instance in which he did not show the strongest attachment -to truth; and I never saw, in the whole course of my life, the smallest -reason for suspecting that he stated any thing which he did not firmly -believe to be the fact.” - -It was the instinct of a man, himself as true as he was great, thus to -place the regard for truth in the front rank of human qualities. On that -simple and noble basis his own nature rested. Wellington could not -vapour, or even utter a lie in a bulletin. Every thing with him was -simple, direct, straightforward, and went to the heart of its purpose, -if any thing could. In all that has singled out England from the -nations, and given her the front place in the history of the world, the -Duke of Wellington was emphatically an Englishman. His patience, his -probity, his punctuality in the smallest things, in every thing the -practical fidelity and reliability of his character, we rejoice to -regard as the type of that which has made us the great people that we -are. It has indeed been well said that the Duke’s whole existence was a -practical refutation of all falsehood. - - ---------------------------- - - - RESTLESSNESS AND ENTERPRISE. - -An anxious, restless temper, that runs to meet care on its way, that -regrets lost opportunities too much, and that is over-painstaking in -contrivances for happiness, is foolish, and should not be indulged.[123] -If you cannot be happy in one way, be happy in another; and this -facility of disposition wants but little aid from philosophy, for health -and good-humour are almost the whole affair. Many run about after -felicity, like an absent man hunting for his hat while it is on his head -or in his hand. Though sometimes small evils, like invisible insects, -inflict great pain, yet the chief secret of comfort lies in not -suffering trifles to vex one, and in prudently cultivating an -undergrowth of small pleasures, since very few great ones, alas, are let -on long leases. - -Nothing will justify, or even excuse, dejection. Untoward accidents will -sometimes happen; but, after many years’ experience (writes Mr. Sharp), -I can truly say, that nearly all those who began life with me have -succeeded, or failed, as they deserved: - - Faber quisque fortunæ propriæ. - -Though you may look to your understanding for amusement, it is to the -affections that we must trust for happiness, These imply a spirit of -self-sacrifice; and often our virtues, like our children, are endeared -to us by what we suffer for them. Conscience, even when it fails to -govern our conduct, can disturb our peace of mind. Yes, it is neither -paradoxical nor merely poetical to say: - - That seeking others’ good, we find our own. - -This solid yet romantic maxim is found in no less a writer than Plato; -who, it has been well observed, sometimes in his moral lessons, as well -as in his theological, is almost, though not altogether, a Christian. - -The passion for enterprise and adventure is the shoal upon which high -hopes are constantly being wrecked. We remember, some thirty years -since, a merchant of London, who inherited a princely fortune, which he -embarked in speculations of almost astounding magnitude. He was a -large-minded and generous man; and among other instances of his -liberality, was his aid to scientific explorations, in acknowledgment of -which he received an honorary Fellowship of the Royal Society. He -published upon political economy and monetary questions; and with that -fatality which often attends those who aspire to public business, our -merchant, in some measure, out-ventured his own. Before the -problematical economy of vast steam-ships had been settled, he invested -large sums in this class of speculation. He was rather athirst for fresh -fields than for the gold itself; and with this view he and his family -ceded to a chartered company a group of islands discovered some forty -years previously through their enterprise, and which the Government had -granted them in consideration for their services in more recent -discoveries of the southern continent. It was then resolved to colonise -the islands as the head-station of the southern whale-fishery; our -merchant receiving the appointment of lieutenant-governor. Troops of -friends and well-wishers attended the leave-taking; the voyage out was -fair and auspicious, and the governor and his little staff planted their -bare emblem of authority upon the islands. - -The scheme was reasonable; for whale-fishing was rife in the -neighbouring seas, and sperm-whales even came into the anchorage. The -country is luxuriantly wooded, the flowering plants abound; and the -climate is mild, temperate, and salubrious. But the fishery failed, and -the horizon soon grew dark with gathering clouds of discontent among the -colonists; and there arose cabals, the usual consequence of defeated -hopes: as success brightly colours all things in life, so failures -darken them. After many months of suffering from indignities heaped upon -him by exasperated adventurers, and the confusion which follows such -mischances, the governor’s brief authority was respected only by _two_ -individuals among the six-score colonists. Such heartless desertion in a -land upon whose storm-beaten shores human foot had rarely set, would -have made many a stout heart quail: not so our almost friendless -representative of authority; and at length the many closed their cruel -indignities by determining that he should leave the islands by the first -ship which should touch there. This stern resolve was carried into -effect; and our merchant-prince, solitary in all respects save hope, -returned to the home which he had left amid a choir of aspirations. He -memorialised the Government for redress, and besought parliament-men to -assert his wrongs; but the only result was the usual official coldness -and disinclination to interfere in troublesome matters; although the -enterprise was, at the commencement, fully recognised by the colonial -authorities at home. - -This is a painful story of a few years’ misadventure and wrecked -fortune, and ingratitude to a man whose honour and integrity, in the -face of misfortune, should at least have shielded him from insult. Yet -how forcibly does it illustrate the perils which so often beset the -restless spirit! - - --------------------- -Footnote 123: - - Such a person knows as much of what true felicity consists as did - Horace Walpole’s gardener, who thought it “something of a bulbous - root.” - - ---------------------------- - - - THE PRESENT AND THE PAST. - -Sharon Turner, a man of sound, practical sense, as well as a reverential -and reflective writer of history, has these pertinent remarks upon the -tendency of historians to magnify the Present at the expense of the -Past: - - Nothing is a greater reproach, to the reasoning intellect of any age - than a splenetic censoriousness on the manners and characters of our - ancestors. It is but common justice for us to bear in mind that in - those times we should have been as they were, as they in ours would - have resembled ourselves. Both are but the same men, acting under - different circumstances, wearing different dresses, and pursuing - different objects; but neither inferior to the other in talent, - industry, or intellectual worth. The more we study biography, we - shall perceive more evidence of this truth. - - Disregarding what satire might, without being cynical, lash in our - own costumes, we are apt to look proudly back on those who have gone - before us, and to regale our self-complacency with comparisons of - their deficiencies, and of our greater merit. The retrospect is - pleasing, but it offers no ground for exultation. We are superior, - and we have in many things better taste and sounder judgment and - wiser habits than they possessed. And why? Because we have had means - of superiority by which they were not assisted. But a merit which - owes its origin merely to our having followed, instead of preceding, - in existence, gives us no right to depreciate those over whom our - only advantage has been the better fortune of a later chronology. We - may therefore allow those who have gone before us to have been - amused with what would weary or dissatisfy us, without either - sarcasms on their absurdities, or contemptuous wonder at their - stately childishness and pompous inanities. - -One of our most popular historians indulges to excess in these brilliant -antitheses, which in his pages remind one of poppies in corn. - - ---------------------------- - - - CIRCUMSTANCES AND GENIUS. - -This episode in man’s history,—this stage in the great struggle of -life,—has been thus powerfully painted by a contemporary: - - We presume there can be little doubt that circumstances have an - effect upon the lives and characters of men; to say any thing else - would be to contradict flatly the ordinary opinion of the world. - Notwithstanding, if one will but look at one’s private experience - among the most ordinary and obscure actors in the life-drama, how - wonderfully, one must allow, character, temper, heart, and spirit, - assert themselves beyond the reach of all external powers! How - triumphantly the poor prodigal, to whom Providence has given the - fairest prospects, and whose steps are guarded by love and kindness, - can vindicate his own instincts against all the virtuous force of - circumstance surrounding him, and go to destruction in its very - face! Who needs to be taught that ever-recurring lesson? Who can be - ignorant that scarcely a great career has ever been made in this - world otherwise than in the face of circumstances—in strenuous - defiance of all that external elements could do to overcome the - unconquerable soul? In the face of such examples, what are we to say - to the theory that adverse circumstances can excuse a man born with - all the compensations of genius for an unlovely and ignoble life, a - bitter and discontented heart, a course of vulgar vice and sordid - meanness? Never was genius more wickedly disparaged. That celestial - gift to which God has given capacities of enjoyment beyond the reach - of the crowd, is of itself an armour against circumstance more proof - than steel, and continually holds open to its possessor a refuge - against the affronts of the world, a shelter from its contumelies, - which is denied to other men. He who reckons of this endowment as of - something which gives only a more exquisite egotism, a finer touch - of selfishness, a sublimation of envy and self-assertion, and - dependence upon the applause of the crowd, forms a mean estimate, - against which it is the duty of every man who knows better to - protest. Outside circumstances, disappointment, neglect, dark want - and misery, have plagued the souls and disturbed the temper of great - men before now, but have never, so far as we are aware, polluted a - pure heart, or made a noble mind despicable. The bitter soreness of - unappreciated genius belongs proverbially to those whose gift is of - the smallest; and the man who excuses a bad life by the pretence - that this divine lymph contained within it has been soured by - popular neglect and turned to gall, speaks sacrilege and - profanity.[124] - - --------------------- -Footnote 124: - - _Quarterly Review._ - - ---------------------------- - - - OUR UNIMAGINATIVE AGE. - -We have now no great poets; and our poverty in this respect is not -compensated by the fact, that we once had them, and that we may, and do, -read their works. The movement has gone by; the charm is broken; the -bond of union, though not cancelled, is seriously weakened. Hence our -age, great as it is, and in nearly all respects greater than any the -world has yet seen, has, notwithstanding its large and generous -sentiments, its unexampled toleration, its love of liberty, and its -profuse and almost reckless charity, a certain material, unimaginative, -and unheroic character, which has made several observers tremble for the -future.... That something has been lost is unquestionable. - -We have lost much of that imagination which, though in practical life it -often misleads, is, in speculative life, one of the highest of all -qualities, being suggestive as well as creative. Even practically we -should cherish it, because the commerce of the affections mainly depends -on it. It is, however, declining; while, at the same time, the -increasing refinement of society accustoms us more and more to suppress -our emotions, lest they be disagreeable to others. And as the play of -the emotions is the chief study of the poet, we see in this circumstance -another reason which makes it difficult to rival that great body of -poetry which our ancestors possessed. We quote the above from the second -volume of Mr. Buckle’s _History of Civilization_. We would add, that the -suppression of emotions to which the author refers is one great cause of -the difficulty of getting persons to speak the truth in the present day: -they are ever disguising their feelings, until hypocritical caution -becomes habit, and it requires a stronger light than the old cynic -possessed to find honest men. The low standard of commercial morality, -and the time-serving expediency which so greatly regulates the actions -of our rulers and those who make the laws, is traceable to this -over-refinement. - - ---------------------------- - - - MARVELS OF THE UNIVERSE. - -Nothing is more startling, or more likely to be received with -incredulity by minds unprepared for their reception, than what are, in -common parlance, termed the Marvels of the Universe. The philosophical -writers of our day have strikingly illustrated this fact, which should -be taken into account in writing of the _impedimenta_ to the progress of -science even in our own day. Sir John Herschel has thus forcibly stated -the case: - - What mere assertion will make any one believe that in one second of - time, in one beat of the pendulum of a clock, a ray of light travels - over 192,000 miles, and would therefore perform the tour of the - world in about the same time that it requires to wink with our - eyelids, and in much less than a swift runner occupies in taking a - single stride? What mortal can be made to believe, without - demonstration, that the sun is almost a million times larger than - the earth? and that, although so remote from us that a cannon-ball - shot directly towards it, and maintaining its full speed, would be - twenty years in reaching it, yet it affects the earth by its - attraction in an appreciable instant of time? Who would not ask for - demonstration, when told that a gnat’s wing, in its ordinary flight, - beats many hundred times in a second; or that there exists animated - and regularly-organised beings, many thousands of whose bodies laid - close together would not extend an inch? But what are these to the - astonishing truths which modern optical inquiries have disclosed, - which teach us that every point of a medium through which a ray of - light passes, is affected with a succession of periodical movements, - regularly recurring at equal intervals, no less than five hundred - millions of millions of times in a single second! That it is by such - movements communicated to the nerves of our eyes that we see; nay, - more, that it is the difference in the frequency of their recurrence - which affects us with the sense of the diversity of colour. That, - for instance, in acquiring the sensation of redness, our eyes are - affected four hundred and eighty-two millions of millions of times; - of yellowness, five hundred and forty-two millions of millions of - times; and of violet, seven hundred and seven millions of millions - of times per second. Do not such things sound more like the ravings - of madmen than the sober conclusions of people in their waking - senses? They are, nevertheless, conclusions to which any one may - most certainly arrive who will only be at the trouble of examining - the chain of reasoning by which they have been obtained. - -Professor Airy, however, considers this difficulty to be over-estimated. -He observes, that “persons who take great interest in Astronomy appear -to regard the determination of measures, like those of the distance of -the sun and moon, as mysteries beyond ordinary comprehension, based -perhaps upon principles which it is impossible to present to common -minds with the smallest probability that they will be understood; if -they accept these measures at all, they adopt them only upon loose -personal credit; in any case, the impression which the statement makes -on the mind is very different from that created by a record of the -distance in miles between two towns, or the number of acres in a field.” - -Now, the measure of the moon’s distance involves no principle more -abstruse than the measure of the distance of a tree on the opposite bank -of a river; and the Professor shows that the methods used for measuring -astronomical distances are, in some applications, absolutely the same as -the methods of ordinary theodolite surveying, and are in other -applications equivalent to them; and that, in fact, there is nothing in -their principles which will present the smallest difficulty to a person -who has attempted the common practice of plotting from angular -measures.[125] - -The habit of beholding the spectacle of the sun gradually sinking, to -disappear after a time below the level of the sea,—this habit, we say, -and our astronomical knowledge, have long since familiarised us with the -phenomenon which, undoubtedly, would appear inexplicable were we to -witness it for the first time, and without being prepared. Who has not -in childhood felt this wonder? The ancients were far from being able to -account for it: some Greek philosophers regarded the sun as an inflamed -mass, which plunged itself every night into the waters of the sea; and -they pretended to have heard a hissing noise! We have found the same -idea lingering among the credulous peasantry of Sussex. We remember our -first nurse, a native of Battle, used to relate that, from the cliffs at -Eastbourne, she had seen the comet of 1769 dip its tail into the sea, -and that she had distinctly heard the “hissing noise.” Such is the -persistence of certain impressions, which, monstrous as they are, can -only be explained away by reasoning.[126] - - --------------------- -Footnote 125: - - See Prof. Airy’s _Six Lectures on Astronomy_. - -Footnote 126: - - See _Things not Generally Known_, First Series, p. 11. - - ---------------------------- - - - PHYSIOGNOMY. - -Sir David Brewster, in his introductory Address to the University of -Edinburgh, 1862-3, remarked that one of the characteristics of the age -in which we live was its love of the mysterious and marvellous. - - I refer (said Sir David) to the so-called science of physiognomy, - but more especially to that morbid expansion of it called the - physiognomy of the human form, which has been elaborated in Germany, - and is now likely to obtain possession of the English mind. In want - of any other arguments, our physiognomists assert that it is simply - probable that the outer form would be designed on purpose to - represent the mental character, and on this ground they dogmatically - declare that the expressions of rage, or grief, or fear have been - “divinely designed on purpose that the inner mind may be known to - those who watch the outer man.” The persons who use such arguments - and have recourse to such assumptions never propose to make any - inductive comparison of a certain number of well-measured forms with - the well-ascertained mental phases with which they are associated. - Were such experiments made, they would yield no result. No two - physiognomists, acting separately, would agree in measuring and - characterising the forms and indications of the head, the features, - the hands, and the feet of the patient; and no two men—neither the - sagacious judge on the bench, nor the shrewd counsel at the - bar—could determine his real character were they to conjure with all - the events of his life. In this new physiognomy, a head large in the - mid region indicates a predominance of the feelings over the other - faculties; a proneness to superstition and fanaticism is shown by a - little increase in the elevation; and a head large behind evinces - practical ability; and, as Dr. Carus says, characterises a race - which will give birth to great historic names! Small heads, however, - are not to be despised. They indicate talent, but not genius; while - very small ones belong, he says, to the excitable class, from whom - “a great part of the misery of society arises.” In the varying - expressions of the human face physiognomists find a better support - for their views. That the emotions of the past and the present leave - permanent traces on the human countenance is doubtless true, and to - this extent we are all physiognomists, often very presumptuous ones, - and, excepting accidental coincidences, always in the wrong, when we - infer from any external appearance the character and disposition of - our neighbour. In every class of society we encounter faces which we - instinctively shun, and others to which we as instinctively cling. - But how frequently have we found our estimates to be false! The - repulsive aspect has proved to be the result of physical suffering, - of domestic disquiet, or of ruined fortunes; and under the bland and - smiling countenance a heart deceitful and vindictive, and - “desperately wicked,” has often been found concealed. - - ---------------------------- - - - TRADE AND PHILANTHROPY. - -In the Memoirs of Bulstrode Whitlocke, the following anecdote is told as -illustrative of the erroneous notions formerly entertained as to the -Employment of Machinery for purposes of economy. “The advantage of free -competition, and the inexhaustible resources of new inventions, -contrivances, and appliances were,” it is observed by the editor at that -time (1658), “utterly ignored. The Swedish ambassador” (to the court of -Oliver Cromwell) “seems to have had a gleam of the truth, a dawning -consciousness of how desirable it was to economise human labour by -introducing machinery whenever practicable. He told a pleasant story of -the Czar and a Dutchman; and how the latter, observing the boats passing -upon the Volga to be manned with three hundred men in each boat, who, in -a storm and high wind, held the bottom of the sails down with their -hands, offered to the former a mode of manning each boat quite as -efficiently with thirty men instead of the three hundred, by which the -cost of transport would be lessened. But the Emperor called him a knave; -and asked him if a boat that now went with three hundred men should be -brought to go as well with thirty only, how were the other two hundred -and seventy men to get their living?” - -Cromwell, it will be remembered, protected by Act of Parliament a -sawmill erected in his time, it is imagined, on the site of the -Belvidere-road, Lambeth; in which locality at this day there is probably -more sawing by machinery than in any other part of England. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - World-Knowledge. - - - - - ---------------------------- - - - MISCELLANEA. - -ENERGY and force of character are among the first requisites essential -to success in business. A man may possess a high degree of refinement, -large stores of knowledge, and even a well-disciplined mind; but if he -is destitute of this one principle, which may be termed resolution of -soul, he is like a watch without a mainspring—beautiful, but -inefficient, and unfit for service. - -Never do too much at a time, is a good practical maxim. Sir Edward -Bulwer Lytton gives the following history of his literary habits: Many -persons, seeing me so much engaged in active life, and as much about the -world as if I had never been a student, have said to me, “When do you -get time to write all your books? How on earth do you contrive to do so -much work?” I shall surprise you by the answer I make. The answer is -this: “I contrive to do so much by never doing too much at a time. A -man, to get through work well, must not overwork himself; or, if he do -too much to-day, the reaction of fatigue will come, and he will be -obliged to do too little to-morrow. Now, since I began really and -earnestly to study, which was not till I had left college, and was -actually in the world, I may perhaps say I have gone through as large a -course of general reading as most men of my time. I have travelled much, -and I have seen much; I have mixed much in politics, and the various -business of life; and, in addition to all this, I have published -somewhere about sixty volumes, some upon subjects requiring much -research. And what time, do you think, as a general rule, I have devoted -to study—to reading and writing? Not more than three hours a day; and -when Parliament is sitting, not always that. But then, during those -hours, I have given my whole attention to what I was about.” - -Sir Benjamin Brodie says that “humility leads to the highest -distinction, because it leads to self-improvement.” He adds—and the -advice cannot be too often repeated—”study your own characters; -endeavour to learn and supply your own deficiencies; never assume to -yourself qualities which you do not possess; combine all this with -energy and activity, and you cannot predicate of yourselves, nor can -others predicate of you, at what point you may arrive at last.” - -Among the empiric arts of gaining notoriety, that by engraved portraits -has led to some curious results. When the late John Harrison Curtis, the -aurist, came to town to seek his fortune, he had his portrait engraved -in large handsome style, and offered the same to a printseller to -publish. He demurred, as the original was unknown; but recommended -Curtis to leave his prints at the different printshops “on sale, or -return.” The sudden appearance in the shop-windows of a large portrait -of the great unknown led to the question, “Who is _this_ Mr. Curtis?” -The repeated inquiries laid the foundation of his fortune, and led to -his living in good style for many years in Soho-square, and numbering -royalty and nobility among his patients; but he outlived his -professional reputation, and died in reduced circumstances. - -Silence, says Boyle, discovers Wisdom and conceals Ignorance; and ’tis a -property that is so much belonging to Wise Men, that even a Fool, when -he holdeth his peace, may pass for one of that sort. - -It is one thing to see that a line is crooked, and another thing to be -able to draw a straight one. It is not quite so easy to do a good thing -as those imagine who never try. - -One of Sir Thomas Wyat’s common sayings was, that there were three -things which should always be strictly observed: “Never to play with any -man’s unhappiness or deformity, for that is inhuman; nor on superiors, -for that is saucy and undutiful; nor on holy matters, for that is -irreligious.” - -A little grain of the romance is no ill ingredient to preserve and exalt -the dignity of human nature, without which it is apt to degenerate into -everything that is sordid, vicious, and low.[127] - -One very common error misleads the opinion of mankind,—that, -universally, authority is pleasant, submission painful. In the general -course of human affairs, the very reverse of this is nearer the truth. -Command is anxiety; obedience, ease.[128] - -Lamartine has well observed: “Travelling is summing up a long life in a -few years; it is one of the strongest exercises a man can give his heart -and his mind. The philosopher, the politician, the poet, should all have -travelled much. Changing the moral horizon is to change thought.” - -“Begin at the Beginning” is an excellent maxim. The laborious pursuit of -first principles brings its own reward. To begin at the beginning in the -sciences, as well as in matters of fact, is the nearest and safest road -to the end. Even sensible men are too commonly satisfied with tracing -their thoughts a little way backwards, and they are, of course, soon -perplexed by a profounder adversary. In this respect, most people’s -minds are too like a child’s garden, where the flowers are planted -without their roots. It may be said of morals and of literature, as -truly as of sculpture and painting, that, to understand the outside of -human nature, we should be well acquainted with the inside. - -Such is the Waywardness of Fate, that one man sucks an orange, and is -choked by a pip; another swallows a penknife, and lives: one runs a -thorn into his hand, and no skill can save him (a fact of recent date); -another has a shaft of a gig passed completely through his body, and -recovers: one is overturned on a smooth common, and breaks his neck; -another is tossed out of a gig over Brighton cliff, and survives: one -walks on a windy day, and meets death by a brickbat; another is blown up -into the air, like Lord Hatton, in Guernsey Castle, and comes down -uninjured. The escape of this nobleman was indeed a miracle. An -explosion of gunpowder, which killed his mother, wife, some of his -children, and many other persons, and blew up the whole fabric of the -castle, lodged him and his bed on a wall overhanging a tremendous -precipice. Perceiving a mighty disorder (as he might expect), he was -going to step out of his bed to know what was the matter, which, if he -had done, he would have been irrecoverably lost; but, in the instant of -this moving, a flash of lightning came and showed him the precipice, -whereupon he lay still till people came and took him down.[129] - -There is an almost prophetic meaning in the following passage from -Berkeley’s “Essay towards Preventing the Ruin of Great Britain,” written -soon after the affair of the South-Sea Scheme: “All projects for growing -rich by sudden extraordinary methods, as they operate violently on the -passions of men, and encourage them to despise the slow moderate gains -that are to be made by an honest industry, must be ruinous to the -public; and even the winners themselves will at length be involved in -the public ruin.” - -Theodore Hook was one of the most experienced exponents of the Town Life -of his day: in habits, a bachelor, notwithstanding his industry as a man -of letters, he saw more of the outside world than the majority of idle -men. He has left many of these experiences in his novels, which, as -pictures of life, are valuable. - -Thus, in _Gilbert Gurney_, he gives this admirable bit of club -criticism: “People who are conscious of what is due to themselves never -display irritability or impetuosity; their manners insure civility—their -own civility secures respect: but the blockhead or the coxcomb, fully -aware that something more than ordinary is necessary to produce an -effect, is sure, whether in clubs or coffee-houses, to be the most -fastidious and factious of the community, the most overbearing in his -manners towards his inferiors, the most restless and irritable among his -equals, the most cringing and subservient before his superiors.” No man -could utter such criticism with more complete safety from being answered -with a _Tu quoque_. - - --------------------- -Footnote 127: - - Swift. - -Footnote 128: - - Paley. - -Footnote 129: - - _New Monthly Magazine._ - - ---------------------------- - - - PREDICTIONS OF SUCCESS. - -A few noteworthy incidents have occurred in the early lives of great -men, which have singularly accorded with their success in after-life. - -The first notice of Lord Chancellor Somers as a boy is exceedingly -curious. In Cooksey’s _Life and Character of Lord Somers_, the following -is stated to be well authenticated. It is to the effect that the boy was -walking with one of his aunts, under whose care he was placed at the -time, when “a beautiful roost-cock flew upon his curly head, and while -perched there crowed three times very loudly.” The occurrence was -instantly viewed as an omen of his future greatness. - -Pope, writing to Lord Orrery, after first witnessing Garrick’s -performance of Richard III., said, “That young man never had his equal -as an actor, and will never have a rival.” As yet the prophecy is -unshaken. - -A few weeks before Lord Chatham died, Lord Camden paid him a visit. -Chatham’s son, William Pitt, left the room on Lord Camden’s coming in. -“You see that young man,” said the old lord; “what I now say, be -assured, is not the fond partiality of a parent, but grounded on a very -accurate examination. Rely upon it, that young man will be more -distinguished in this country than ever his father was.” His prophecy -was in part accomplished. At the age of twenty-four he was Chancellor of -the Exchequer; and before he had attained his twenty-fifth year, had -been offered, and refused, the place of First Minister. - -When Horatio Nelson was a weakly child, he gave proofs of that resolute -heart and nobleness of mind which, during his whole career of labour and -of glory, so eminently distinguished him. When a mere boy, he strayed a -bird’s-nesting from his grandmother’s house, in company with a cow-boy; -the dinner-hour elapsed, he was absent, and could not be found; the -alarm of the family then became very great, for they apprehended that he -might have been carried off by gipsies. At length, after search had been -made for him in various directions, he was discovered alone, sitting -composedly by the side of a brook which he could not get over. “I -wonder, child,” said the old lady when she saw him, “that hunger and -fear did not drive you home.” “Fear! grandmamma,” replied the future -hero; “I never saw fear—what is it?” - -Arthur Wellesley, when at school at Chelsea, was a boy of indolent and -careless manner, and rather than join in the amusements of the -playground delighted to lean against a large tree, observing his -schoolfellows when playing around him. If any boy played unfairly, -Arthur quickly apprised those engaged in the game: on the delinquent -being turned out, it was generally wished that he should supply his -place; but nothing could induce him to do so: when beset by a party of -five or six, he would fight with the utmost courage and determination -until he freed himself from their grasp; he would then retire again to -his tree, and look about him, as observant as before. Such was the love -of fair play in the boy who became the great Duke of Wellington. - -An incident in the life of Parry, the intrepid Arctic navigator, may -also be related here. He left Bath, accompanied by an old and faithful -servant of the family, with whom he travelled to Plymouth, and who did -not leave him till he saw him finally settled in the _Ville de Paris_ -man-of-war. To Parry all was new. He had never before beheld the sea, -and his experience of naval matters had been confined to the small craft -on the river Avon. He seemed almost struck dumb with astonishment at his -first sight of the ocean and of a line-of-battle ship; but, after a -while recovering himself, he began eagerly to examine every thing around -him, and to ask numberless questions of all who were inclined to listen. -While so engaged, he saw one of the sailors descending the rigging from -aloft; and in a moment, before the astonished servant knew what Parry -was about, he sprang forward, and, with his wonted agility, clambered up -to the mast-head, from which giddy elevation he waved his cap in triumph -to those whom he had left below. When he regained the deck, the sailors, -who had witnessed the feat, gathered round him and commended his spirit, -telling him he was “a fine fellow, and a true sailor every inch of him.” -We can well imagine with what gratification the various members of his -family would receive the account of this and every other incident -connected with his first entry on his new career, and how eagerly they -would hail his conduct on this occasion as a happy omen of future -success.[130] - - --------------------- -Footnote 130: - - _Memoirs of Sir E. W. Parry._ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Conclusion. - - - - - ---------------------------- - - - EASE OF MIND. - -IN order to enjoy Ease of Mind in our intercourse with the world, we -should introduce into our habits of business punctuality, decision, the -practice of being beforehand, despatch, and exactness; in our pleasures, -harmlessness and moderation; and in all our dealings, perfect integrity -and love of truth. Without these observances we are never secure of -ease, nor indeed taste it in its highest state. As in most other things, -so here, people in general do not aim at more than mediocrity of -attainment, and of course usually fall below their standard; whilst many -are so busy in running after what should procure them ease, that they -totally overlook the thing itself. - -Ease of mind has the most beneficial effect upon the body, and it is -only during its existence that the complicated physical functions are -performed with the accuracy and facility which nature designed. It is, -consequently, a great preventive of disease, and one of the secret means -of effecting a cure when disease has occurred; without it, in many -cases, no cure can take place. By ease of mind many people have survived -serious accidents, from which nothing else could have saved them, and in -every instance is much retarded by the absence of it. Its effect upon -the appearance is no less remarkable. It prevents and repairs the -ravages of time in a singular degree, and is the best preservative of -strength and beauty. It often depends greatly upon health, but health -always depends greatly upon it. The torments of a mind ill at ease seem -to be less endurable than those of the body; for it scarcely ever -happens that suicide is committed from bodily suffering. As far as the -countenance is an index, “the vultures of the mind” appear to turn it -more mercilessly than any physical pain; and no doubt there have been -many who would willingly have exchanged their mental agony for the most -wretched existence that penury could produce. From remorse there is no -escape. In aggravated cases probably there is no instant, sleeping or -waking, in which its influence is totally unfelt. Remorse is the extreme -one way; the opposite is that cleanliness of mind which has never been -recommended any where to the same extent that it is by the precepts of -the Christian religion, and which alone constitutes “perfect freedom.” -It would be curious if we could see what effect such purity would have -upon the appearance and actions of a human being—a being who lived, as -Pope expresses it, in the “eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.” -Goldsmith has beautifully said: - - How small of all that human hearts endure, - That part which laws or kings can cause or cure! - Still to ourselves in every place consign’d, - Our own felicity we make or find. - -Shakspeare observes: “There is nothing either good or bad but thinking -makes it so.”[131] - -Charles James Fox, who was, from infancy, a spoiled child, would spend -night after night in gambling, and wasting his sweet nature in the -orgies of Bacchus. Then he would flee away to the delightful scenery and -refreshing air of St. Anne’s Hill, and there betake himself to -gardening, in a blue apron; or to the learned leisure of his study, in -the bosom of conjugal felicity and friendship. - - --------------------- -Footnote 131: - - _The Original._ By Thomas Walker, M.A. - - ---------------------------- - - - THE LIFE OF MAN. - -It is impossible to say what analogy exists between the race and the -individual, and attempts to explain the history of the one by the stages -which mark the life of the other are at best more ingenious than -satisfactory; but almost every fact with which we are acquainted seems -to suggest that some such analogy exists, though its particulars are -altogether unknown, and though we cannot even say whether mankind ought -to be compared to one individual or to several. It may, however, be -allowable, in dealing with a subject which, after all, appeals rather to -the feelings and to the imagination than to the reason, to point out the -fact that the cessation of human society would present a striking -analogy to the death of individuals; and that there would be the same -contradictory mixture of completeness and incompleteness about a society -eternally renewed, as there would be about a human being who never died. -That the life of a man forms a moral whole, is a conviction which is so -thoroughly worked into our minds and our very language, that no one -doubts it. That it is a mysterious and utterly contradictory thing at -its best estate, is the experience of every person who has even ordinary -powers of reflection. It is hard to imagine the degree in which these -mysteries and contradictions would be heightened if man were immortal. -If, after arriving at that average degree of prudence and self-restraint -which almost every one attains comparatively early in life, people lived -on and on for centuries and millenniums, carrying on the same sort of -transactions, settling the same difficulties, enjoying the same -pleasures, and suffering from the same vexations, the question why they -ever were sent into the world at all (which is even now sufficiently -perplexing) would become altogether overwhelming; and the faith which -people at present maintain in the Divine government of the world would -have to be based on entirely different grounds, if it survived at all. -It is perhaps not merely fanciful to suggest that a somewhat similar -difficulty would exist if human society, after a long and laborious -education, were to attain to a stationary state, and were then to go on -indefinitely enjoying itself. Such a heaven on earth would be at best a -sort of high life below stairs. - -The celebration of the triumphs of civilisation, which is at present in -full bloom, produces on many minds an effect not unlike that which -Robespierre’s feasts to the Supreme Being produced on his colleagues. -“You and your nineteenth century are beginning to be a bore,” is the -salutation which many a philosopher would receive in these days from a -sincere audience. Weigh and measure and classify as we will, we are but -poor creatures, when all is said and done. It would be a relief to think -that a day was coming when the world, whether more comfortable or not, -would at least see and know itself as it is, and when the real gist and -bearing of all the work, good and evil, that is done under the sun, -should at last be made plain. Till then, knowledge, science, and power -are, after all, little more than shadows in a troubled dream—a dream -which will soon pass away from each of us, if it does not pass away at -once from all.[132] - - --------------------- -Footnote 132: - - _Saturday Review._ - - ---------------------------- - - - THE GOOD MAN’s LIFE. - -Some are called _at age_ at fourteen, some at one-and-twenty, some -never; but all men late enough, for the life of a man comes upon him -slowly and insensibly. But as when the sun approaching towards the gates -of the morning, he first opens a little the eye of heaven, and sends -away the spirits of darkness, and gives light to a cock, and calls up -the lark to matins, and by and by gilds the fringes of a cloud, and -peeps over the eastern hills, thrusting out his golden horns, like those -which decked the brows of Moses when he was forced to wear a veil, -because himself had seen the face of God; and still while a man tells -the story, the sun gets up higher, till he shows a fair face and a full -light, and then he shines one whole day, under a cloud often, and -sometimes weeping great and little showers, and sets quickly: so is -man’s reason and his life. He first begins to perceive himself to see or -taste, making little reflections upon his actions of sense, and can -discourse of flies and dogs, shells and play, horses and liberty; but -when he is strong enough to enter into arts and little institutions, he -is at first entertained with trifles and impertinent things, not because -he needs them, but because his understanding is no bigger, and little -images of things are laid before him, like a cockboat to a whale, only -to play withal: but before a man comes to be wise, he is half-dead with -gouts and consumption, with catarrhs and aches, with sore eyes and a -worn-out body. So that if we must not reckon the life of a man but by -the amounts of his reason, he is long before his soul be dressed; and he -is not to be called a man without a wise and an adorned soul, a soul at -least furnished with what is necessary towards his well-being: but by -that time his soul is thus furnished, his body is decayed; and then you -can hardly reckon him to be alive, when his body is possessed by so many -degrees of death. - - * * * * * - -But if I shall describe a living man, a man that hath that life which -distinguishes him from a fool or a bird, that which gives him a capacity -next to angels, we shall find that even a good man lives not long; -because it is long before he is born to this life, and longer yet before -he hath a man’s growth. “He that can look upon death, and see its face -with the same countenance with which he hears its story; he that can -endure all the labours of his life with his soul supporting his body; -that can equally despise riches when he hath them, and when he hath them -not; that is not sadder if they lie in his neighbour’s trunks, nor more -brag if they shine round about his own walls; he that is neither moved -with good fortune coming to him, nor going from him; that can look upon -another man’s lands evenly and pleasantly as if they were his own, and -yet look upon his own, and use them too, just as if they were another -man’s; that neither spends his goods prodigally and like a fool, nor yet -keeps them avariciously and like a wretch; that weighs not benefits by -weight and number, but by the mind and circumstances of him that gives -them; that never thinks his charity expensive if a worthy person be the -receiver; he that does nothing for opinion sake, but every thing for -conscience, being as curious of his thoughts as of his actings in -markets and theatres, and is as much in awe of himself as of a whole -assembly; he that knows God looks on, and contrives his secret affairs -as if in the presence of God and his holy angels; that eats and drinks -because he needs it, not that he may serve a lust or load his belly; he -that is bountiful and cheerful to his friends, and charitable and apt to -forgive his enemies; that loves his country, and obeys his prince, and -desires and endeavours nothing more than that they may do honour to -God:”[133] this person may reckon his life to be the life of a man, and -compute his months not by the course of the sun, but the zodiac and -circle of his virtues; because these are such things which fools and -children and birds and beasts cannot have; these are therefore the -actions of life, because they are the seeds of immortality. That day in -which we have done some excellent thing, we may as truly reckon to be -added to our life, as were the fifteen years to the days of -Hezekiah.[134] - - --------------------- -Footnote 133: - - Seneca, _De Vita Beata_. - -Footnote 134: - - Jeremy Taylor’s _Holy Dying_. - - ---------------------------- - - - PREDICTIONS OF FLOWERS. - -To what excellent account have our thoughtful old writers turned these -prophetic indications of changeful flowers! Bishop Hall, in his -_Occasional Meditations_, has the following “On the Light of Tulips, and -Marigolds, &c. in his Garden:” “These flowers are the true clients of -the sun; how observant they are of his motion and influence! At even, -they shut up, as mourning for his departure, without whom they neither -can see nor flourish; in the morning, they welcome his rising with a -cheerful openness; and at noon, are fully displayed in a free -acknowledgment of his bounty. - -“Thus doth the good heart turn unto God. ‘_When thou turnedst away thy -face, I was troubled_,’ saith the man after God’s own heart. ‘_In thy -presence is life; yea, the fulness of joy._’ Thus doth the carnal heart -to the world: when that withdraws its favours, he is dejected; and -revives with a smile. All is in our choice. Whatsoever is our sun will -thus carry us. - -“O God, be Thou to me such as Thou art in Thyself: Thou shalt be -merciful in drawing me; I shall be happy in following thee.” - -The use of Perfumes in the last century exceeded that in the present -day. Possibly the old notion that they were employed to mask the -exhalations from diseased persons may have driven perfumes out of -fashion in our day; we recollect _musk_ to have been specially so -considered. Bishop Hall, in his _Occasional Meditations_, adverts to -this use of perfumes in a meditation illustrative of a custom which is -associated with the symbolic character of “flowers and redolent plants, -just emblems of the life of man, which has been compared in Holy -Scriptures to those fading beauties, whose roots, being buried in -dishonour, rise again in glory.”[135] The Bishop’s meditation is “On the -Sight of a Coffin stuck with Flowers:” - -“Too fair in appearance is never free from just suspicion. While there -was nothing but wood, no flower was to be seen here; now that this wood -is lined with an unsavoury corpse, it is adorned with this sweet -variety. The fir, whereof that coffin is made, yields a natural -redolence alone; now that it is stuffed thus noisomely, all helps are -too little to countervail that scent of corruption.[136] - - --------------------- -Footnote 135: - - Evelyn. - -Footnote 136: - - See “Flowers on Graves,” in _Mysteries of Life, Death, and Futurity_. - - ---------------------------- - - - THE WORLD’S CYCLES. - -There is a Revolution of History as of Knowledge: who does not remember -how often the same succession of events has happened in his memory! Dr. -Newman has well expressed this truth in a poem in the _Lyra Apostolica_, -entitled “Faith against Sight,” with the motto, “As it was in the days -of Lot, so shall it be in the days of the Son of Man:” - - The World has Cycles in its course, when all - That once has been, is acted o’er again: - Not by some fatal law which need appal - Our faith, or binds our deeds as with a chain; - But by men’s separate sins, which blended still - The same bad round fulfil. - - ---------------------------- - - - DEATH ALL-ELOQUENT. - - Death and I have met in full, close contact; - And parted, knowing we should meet again; - Therefore, come when he may, we’ve looked upon - Each other far too narrowly for me - To fear the hour when we shall be so join’d, - That all eternity shall never sever us.—_F. Kemble._ - -What solemnity is there in the following passage, with which Sir Walter -Raleigh concludes his _Marrow of Historie!_ “O eloquent, just, and -mighty Death! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none -have dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world have flattered, thou -only hast cast out of the world and despised: thou hast drawn together -all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of -man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, HIC JACET.” - - - - - Finis. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - APPENDIX. - - - _Generations (page 71)._ - - MR. HATSELL TO LORD AUCKLAND. - - Morden Park, Sunday, Nov. 23, 1813. - - MY DEAR LORD,—I must correct the conclusion of your last letter, - "and so the world goes on," to "and so the world goes off." In the - same Marlborough family I have lived to see eight[137] generations: - - 1. Sarah Duchess of Marlborough. - 2. Lady Sunderland. - 3. Jack Spencer. - 4. The first Lord Spencer. - 5. The present Lord Spencer. - 6. The Duchess of Devonshire. - 7. Lady Morpeth. - 8. Her children (the present Lord Carlisle and Duchess of - Sutherland). - - I saw Sarah in Lincoln’s-inn consulting Mr. Fazakerly, who stood - close to her Grace’s chair; so, you see, I beat history out and - out.[138]...—From the _Auckland Correspondence_, vol. iv. p. 401. - - --------------------- -Footnote 137: - - Only seven; the name of the second Lord Spencer ought to be omitted. - -Footnote 138: - - Mr. Hatsell died 1820. - - ---------------------------- - - - _Memory_ (_page_ 75). - - Professor Faraday, at the close of a Lecture on Gas Glass-house - Furnaces, delivered at the Royal Institution in 1862, alluded, in an - affecting manner, to his increasing loss of memory. There was a - time, he observed, when he inclined to think that Memory was a - faculty of secondary order; but he now feels its great importance; - and the deficiency of that power, he said, would prevent him from - again bringing before them any thing that was new; for he was often - unable to recollect even his own precious researches, and he could - no longer trust himself to lecture without notes. - - ---------------------------- - - - _Great Ages_ (_page_ 114). - - An old woman who died in 1858 in St. Patrick-street, Dublin, at the - age of 110 years, distinctly remembered and described the appearance - of Dean Swift, and added, that he never went outside the - Deanery-house that he was not attended through the streets by a vast - crowd of washed and unwashed admirers. - - Mrs. Keith, of Newnham, Gloucestershire, who died in 1772, aged 133, - left three daughters, aged 111, 110, and 100. - - In 1862, a lady residing at Cheltenham received a second donation of - 5_l._ from her Majesty the Queen, for an old man of 107 years of - age, named William Purser, a native of Redmarley, but living in - Cheltenham.—_Worcestershire Chronicle._ - - In 1862, a curious fact occurred at Downton, showing how few - individuals are required to connect distant periods of history with - the present time. A man was buried in this parish whose father was - born in the reign of William III., and that father lived in three - centuries, having been born in 1698 and died in 1801.—_Salisbury - Journal._ - - In 1853, the Irish newspapers announced the death of Mrs. Mary - Power, aunt of the celebrated Mr. Shiel, at the Ursuline Convent, - Cork, at the age of 116 years; but this statement lacks legal - evidence to prove it. - - The obituary of the _Times_ of January 21, 1863, records the decease - of persons who had attained the following advanced ages, viz.: 92, - 90, 82, 82, 82, 80, 78, 78, 76, 74, 72, 72, 72, and 70 years - respectively. - - Dr. Mead, grandfather of the celebrated physician and antiquary, - died at Ware, in Hertfordshire, 1652, aged 148. - - In Scawen’s _Dissertation on the Cornish Tongue_, written in the - reign of Charles II., is mentioned a woman recently deceased, who - was "164 years old, of good memory, and healthful at her age; living - in the parish of Gwithian. She married a second husband after she - was 80, and buried him after he was 80 years of age." - - A Philadelphia Correspondent of _Notes and Queries_, No. 213, 1853, - records the death of "Aunt Polly" (Mary Simondson), near - Shippensburg, Pennsylvania, at the age of 126 years. - - Among the legacies bequeathed to the Middlesex Hospital in 1863, was - one which is deserving of special notice, inasmuch as the donor, Mr. - Cropper, exhibited a singular instance of rigid economy in his - personal expenditure, combined with a bountiful and almost princely - benevolence towards the poor. Mr. Cropper, who was 90 years old when - he died, had, it appears, survived all his relations. He was a - barrister-at-law, and lived in the most frugal manner in his - chambers at Gray’s-inn. The amount of his property at the time of - his decease is estimated at about 4000_l._ per annum, and 10,000_l._ - in money, the whole of which he has bestowed on London charities, - selecting Middlesex Hospital as his residuary legatee. - - In the _Express_ of February 11, 1863, it is recorded: Two - octogenarians, named Joseph and John Fitzwalter, brothers, lived - together with their sister in a house in Parliament street for a - great number of years. The brothers had been brought up to the - business of lace-designing, and the sister had acted in the capacity - of housekeeper. Joseph, the elder one, was a short time ago attacked - with bronchitis, under which he lingered for some time in much pain. - On Wednesday last (February 4), however, he died, at the ripe old - age of 84 years. The brother and sister of the deceased were much - affected by his death, the brother showing excessive signs of grief. - His grieving, however, was not long, for he expired in one hour - after his brother. The death of two brothers, to whom she was - devoutly attached, was a shock which the sister was unable to - withstand; and on the morning fixed for their interment she also - expired, at the age of 88 years. - - ---------------------------- - - - _Baron Maseres_ (_page_ 149). - - Baron Maseres long resided at Reigate, in a fine old brick mansion, - about midway between the church and town. His remains rest in a - vault in the churchyard towards the north-east; upon the tomb over - which Dr. Fellowes has inscribed an epitaph in elegant Latinity, - terminating thus: "Vale, vir optime! amice, vale, carissime; et - siqua rerum humanarum tibi sit adhuc conscientia, monimentum, quod - in tui memoriam, tui etiam in mortuis observantissimus Robertus - Fellowes ponendum curavit, solitâ benevolentiâ tuearis." - - On Sundays the Baron, bent with age, might be seen advancing up the - nave of Reigate church; for he was a sound churchman, and testified - his sincerity by making an Endowment for an Afternoon Sermon to be - preached on Sundays, with this proviso, that, in case of - non-observance of the bequest, the endowment should be given in - bread to the poor. The chancels, with their faded pomp of effigied - monuments, hatchments, and armorial glass, have little attraction - compared with this interesting memorial of practical piety. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - INDEX. - - Adam, Death before, 117. - Advice to the Student, 138. - Age, our Unimaginative, 239. - Ages, great, 81, 82. - Airy, Prof., 241. - Alarum, ancient, 14. - Albert, Prince Consort, Death of, 228. - Albert, Prince Consort, on the Progress of Knowledge, 227. - Alderson, Baron, on Education, 138. - Alfred’s Time-Candles, 13. - Antiquaries, long-lived, 111. - Aphorisms on Time, 2. - Archbishop Sancroft, 104. - Architects, aged, 113. - Argument, What is it? 144. - Aristotle’s Philosophy, 134. - Artists, aged, 112, 113. - Authors and Artists, Working, 204. - Average of Life, 71. - - Babbage, Mr., on Life Assurance, 71. - Bacon, Francis, on Longevity, 80. - Bailey’s _Records of Longevity_, 96. - Baily, Francis, 208. - Banks, Sir Edward, 182. - Barrow, Sir John, 164. - Beckford, William, 189. - "Begin at the Beginning," 246. - Bentham, Jeremy, Age of, 109, 110. - Bentinck, Lord George, 217. - Berry, the Misses, 92. - Bidder, George, the engineer, 186. - Birch, Alderman, 200. - Blake, Captain, 174. - Books for the Young, 141. - Booth, David, 205. - Brassey, Thomas, 185. - Britton, John, Rise of, 207, 208. - Brodie, Sir Benjamin, _note_, 59, 60. - Brougham, Lord, 214, 215, 216. - Brougham, Lord, on Oratory, 170. - Bruce, John, on Longevity, 83. - Brunel, I. K., 182, 183. - Brunel, Sir I. M., 181. - Buckingham Family, the, 193, 194. - Buffon, on growing Old, 77. - Burke, Oratory of, 169. - BUSINESS-LIFE, 152-217. - Business, Men of, 174. - Byron, Lord, 206. - - Carlyle’s Signs of the Times, 11. - Centenarians in 1800, 101. - Chambers, Robt., on Old Age, 99. - Chantrey the Sculptor, 209. - Character the best Security, 176. - Chatham, Lord, 170. - Cheyne, Dr., on Old Age, 109. - Childhood’s Pastimes, 72. - Children, Young, Teaching, 120. - Circumstances and Genius, 238. - Civic Hospitalities, 203. - Civic Worthies, 199. - Clark, "King of Exeter ’Change," 189. - Clark, Chamberlain, 95, 208. - Classics, Dr. Arnold on, 124. - Clergy, Great ages of, 104, 105. - CLOCKS AND WATCHES: - Anne Boleyn’s Clock, 35; - Cannon Clock, 37; - Chronometers, 37; - Clocks striking twice, 32; - Electric Clocks, 39; - Harrison’s improvements, 36; - Horologe, 29; - Horse-Guards Clock, 31; - Kensington-palace, 36; - Minute-Jacks, 33; - Pendulum Experiments, 38; - Rabelais on, 29; - St. Dunstan’s Clock, 32, 33; - St. James’s-palace Clock, 31; - St. Magnus Clock, 32; - St. Paul’s Cathedral Clock, 31, 35; - St. Paul’s, Covent-garden, Clock, 31; - Scott and Shakspeare on, 30; - Watch, to choose, 39; - Watch, Lord Herbert to his, 40; - Watch-face at Somerset-house, 36; - Water-clocks, 30; - Westminster-palace Clock, 30, 35. - Colburn, Henry, 197. - Coleridge, _note_, 62. - Coleridge, Sir John, on Education, 130, 140. - CONCLUSION, 250-256. - Consolation in growing Old, 76. - Cooper, Durrant, on great ages in Yorkshire, 97. - Cornaro, Great age of, 92. - Court letter, Model, 165. - Courtesies, Small, 221. - "Cramming," 132. - Cubitt, Thomas and William, 185, 186. - Cunningham, Allan, 210. - Cuvier on Life, 65. - - Davy, Sir H., on Time, 8, 9. - Day and Martin’s Blacking, 194. - Death before Adam, 116. - Death, Eloquent, 256. - Death, Preparatory to, 115. - Debating Society, 169. - Demosthenes’ Oratory, 166, 167. - Denisons, the, 196. - Desmond, Old Countess of, 88. - Dials: see Sun-Dials. - Dickens, Charles, and Yorkshire Schools, 141. - Diplomatic Handwriting, 166. - Discipline, Practical, 132. - Disraeli, Isaac and Benjamin, 211, 212. - Distance reckoned by Time, 16. - - Early Rising: - Albert, Prince Consort, 51; - Burgess, Bishop, 47; - Burghley, Lord, 41; - Cambridge University, 41; - Chatham, Lord, 47; - Cobbett, William, 48, 49, 50; - Coke, Sir Edward, 42; - Cooper, Sir Astley, 47; - Doddridge, 45; - Eton College, 41; - Gibbon, 46; - Kant, 46; - Ken, Bishop, 42, 43; - Rubens, 44; - Thomson, the poet, 46; - Webster, Daniel, 50; - Wesley, John, 44, 45. - Earthly existence, Future of the Human Race, 117. - Ease of Mind, 250. - Education Alarmists, 140. - - Education, the best, 137. - Education, Business of, 123. - Education at Home, 121. - Education, Liberal, 126. - Education, Unsound, 128. - Education, What is it? 119. - Educations, Two, 131. - Energy, Worth of, 154. - Engineers, aged, 112. - Engineers and Mechanicians, eminent, 177. - English Character, the, 153. - - Family Portraits, 219. - Farming, Scientific, 187. - Fate, Waywardness of, 246. - Flood, Mr., Oratory of, 170. - Flourens, M., on Longevity, 79. - Floyer, Sir John, his age, 108. - Fontenelle, on growing Old, 78, 103. - Fortunes, Large, 188. - Fox, C. J., 249. - Fox, C. J., Oratory of, 167. - Friends, How to Keep, 220. - Friendships, Lasting, 221. - - Garrick’s Talent predicted, 248. - Generations, Passing, 68-71. - Geology in Education, 135. - Gibson, Sidney, on Longevity, 82. - Good Man’s Life, the, 253. - Grace, Dr. Whately on, 121. - Greatness, Test of, 156. - Grief and old Age, 108. - Growing to the spot, 103. - Grub-street and Criticism, 110. - - Haller on Age, 79. - Handwriting, Character in, 145. - Hardwicke, Dowager Countess of, 91. - Hard workers long livers, 106. - Herschel, Caroline Lucretia, 90. - Herschel, Sir John, 240. - Hill, Thomas, 205. - Historians, long-lived, 111. - Historic Traditions through few Links, 82. - History and Geography, Teaching at Home, 121. - Home, Love of, 218. - Home Thoughts, 225. - HOME TRAITS, 218-226. - Hook, Theodore, 247. - Hooke’s Magnetic Watch, 14. - Hour-glass, the, 27, 28, 29. - How, Hon. Chas., on Life, 68. - Hudson, "the Railway King," 196. - Humanity to Animals, 123. - Humility and Self-Improvement, 244. - - Journalists, Ages of, 111. - - Keith, Viscountess, Great age of, 92. - Kelly, Alderman, 202. - Ken, Bishop, and Early Rising, 42, 43. - Knowledge, too much, 151. - Knowledge and Wisdom, 139. - - Lansdowne, the late Lord, on Public Speaking, 169. - Lawyers, aged, 111. - Length of Days, 80, 97. - Letter-writing, 148. - Life of Man, 251. - Life—a River, 65. - Linwood, Miss, her great age, 91. - Liverpool, Lord, Origin of, 163. - Locke, Joseph, the engineer, 184. - London, long life in, 101. - Long Livers, noted, 96. - Long Services, 107. - Longevity and Diet, 92-95. - Longevity, Female, 88-92. - Longevity and Localities, 96-102. - Lord Mayors of London, 199. - Lytton, Sir Bulwer, on Office, 161. - Lytton, Sir Bulwer, on Oratory, 169. - - Macaulay, Lord, 213, 226. - Marshall, Sir Chapman, 202. - Marvels of the Universe, 240. - Maseres, Baron, and Anti-Newtonian, _note_, 149, 258. - Mathematics, Lord Rosse on, 133, 134. - Mechi, Alderman, 187, 203. - Memory, What is it? 75. - Method in Books, 150. - Midhurst, Great ages at, 101. - Misadventure, Colonial, 235. - Montaigne on Education, 139. - More, Hannah, 74. - Morison, James, 195. - Morris, Capt., Great age of, 95. - Morrison, James, M.P., 198. - Musical Composers, aged, 112. - - Negroes, aged, 113, 114. - Nelson, his boyhood, 248. - - Official Life, 161. - Official Qualifications, 164. - Old Man, the Happy, 114. - Opportunity, 174. - Oxford, Great ages in, 100. - - Painters, aged, 112. - Parr, Old, Diet of, 93. - Parry, the Arctic Navigator, 249. - Patten, Margaret, great age of, 89. - Peel, Sir Robert, 235. - Periods of Rest, 15. - Phillips, John Pavin, on Longevity, 83. - Phillips, Sir Richard, the Vegetarian, 69, 94. - Philosophers, Great ages of, 102, 103. - Physiognomy, Sir David Brewster on, 242. - Pianoforte-making, Fortune by, 195. - Pirie, Alderman Sir John, 202. - Pitt, his political Life predicted, 248. - Pleasures of the Imagination late in Life, 73. - Poets, aged, 111. - Poetry of Time, 1-8. - Polite Writing, True Tone of, 223. - Predictions of Flowers, 255. - Present and the Past, 238. - Pride and Meanness, 224. - Profession, Choice of, 157. - Progress of Knowledge, 227, 229. - Public Speaking, 166. - Pursuit, Want of, 152. - - Quakers, Great ages of, 106. - - Red Tape, 62. - Rennie, John, the Engineer, 180. - Rest, Periods of, 15. - Restlessness and Enterprise, 235. - Restraint, Early, 124. - Rogers, Samuel, Age of, 85. - Room, the best to speak in, 169. - Rose, Rt. Hon. George, 163. - Routh, Dr., Great age of, 86. - - School-Indulgence, 128. - School-Reform, Arnold’s, 127. - Scientific Men, aged, 112. - Scientific Progress, 229. - Scotland, Longevity in, 98, 99. - Scott, Sir Walter, 211. - Scott, Sir W., on Presidency, 173. - Sculptors, aged, 113. - Self-dependence, Mr. Sharp on, 159. - Self-formation, 131. - Shaw, Sir James, 200. - Shoreditch, St. Leonard’s, and Longevity, 80. - Short-hand, Antiquity of, 147. - Sidmouth Peerage, the, 162. - Sinclair, Sir John, on Long Life, 96. - Smith, Sidney, on Education, 131. - Soldiers, Great ages of, 105. - Somers, Lord, Omen to, 247. - Southey, on English Style, 147. - Southey, Letters of, 206. - SPIRIT OF THE AGE, 227-243. - Spring-time of Life, 66. - Stanhope, Lord, on the Progress of Knowledge, 230. - Statesmen, aged, 111. - Steele, on the Choice of a Profession, 158. - Stephenson, George and Robert, 178, 179. - Stothard, the Painter, 112. - Strahan, William and Andrew, the Printers, 191, 192. - Strangford, Lord, on Time, 11. - Style, English, 147. - Suffolk, Great ages in, 99. - SUN-DIALS: - Bowles, Canon, on, 17, 18, 24; - Boyle, Robert, on, 22; - Bremhill, 17, 18; - Hall, Bishop, on, 25; - Lamb, Charles, on, 21; - London, Inns of Court, 20; - Mackay, Charles, Lines by, 26; - Mottoes for Dials, 24; - Mary Queen of Scots’ Dial, 27; - Oxford, 17; - Pyramids of Egypt, 25; - Ring Dials, 23; - Seven Dials, 21, 22; - Temple, 21; - Whitehall, 19. - Surgeons, aged, 111. - - Talkers, Profuse, 57. - Teaching, Unsound, 128. - Telford, the engineer, 179. - Thackeray, W. M., 226. - Tilt, the late Charles, 176. - TIME, ART OF EMPLOYING: - Aguesseau, 55; - Boyle, Robert, 58; - Brodie, Sir Benjamin, 59; - - Coke, Sir Edward, 53; - Coleridge, 61; - Curran and Grattan, 62; - Elizabeth, Queen, 55; - Erasmus, 54; - Fuller, 52; - George III., 58; - Hale, Sir Matthew, 56; - Harrington, Sir John, 58; - Johnson, Dr., 53; - Jones, Sir W., 53; - More, Sir Thomas, 64; - Paley, 59; Sandwich, Lord, 58; - Scott, Sir Walter, 61; - South, Dr., 53; - Sterne, 59; - Thomson, the poet, 59; - Wellington, Duke of, 63; - Woodhouselee, Lord, 55. - Time’s Garland, by Drayton, 6. - Time and Eternity, 64. - Time and Improvement, 231. - Time, Management of, 244. - Time, Measurement of, 12-15. - Time, painted by the Poets, 1-8. - Time, Past, Present, and Future, 9. - Time-balls, London and Edinburgh, 34. - Time-wasters, 57. - Trade, the nobility of, 189. - Trade and Philanthropy, 243. - Translation, Free, 150. - Truth, Speaking the, 234. - Twenty Years, First, of Life, 67. - Tying-up Thoughts, 62, 63. - - Vegetarians and Long Life, 94. - - Waithman, Alderman, 201. - Walker, Jas., the Engineer, 186. - Ware, the Architect, 174. - Watson, Bishop, _note_, 136. - Wear and Tear of Public Life, 217. - Webster, Dr., on Longevity, 91. - Wellington, Duke of, his boyhood, 248. - Wellington, Duke of, 63, 64, 234, 235. - Widows, aged, 90. - Wilson, Professor, 216. - Wire, Alderman, 203. - Wood, Sir Matthew, 200. - Woodstock, Great ages in, 100. - World’s Cycles, 256. - WORLD-KNOWLEDGE, 244-249. - Wrecks of Time, 7. - Writing, Art of, 149. - Writing, Learning, 147. - - Yorkshire Schools, 141. - Youth, Tenderness of, 122. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - -_By the Author of the present Work, with a Coloured Title, 5s. cloth, -pp._ 320, - - - SOMETHING FOR EVERYBODY; - - AND - - A GARLAND FOR THE YEAR. - - BY JOHN TIMBS, F.S.A. - - -CONTENTS: Memorable Days of the Year; its Fasts and Festivals and -Picturesque Events.—Recollections of Brambletye.—Domestic Arts -and Customs.—Glories of a Garden.—Early Gardeners.—Bacon, -Evelyn, and Temple.—A Day at Hatfield.—London Gardens.—Pope at -Twickenham.—Celebrated Gardens.—Curiosities of Bees, &c. - - CRITICAL OPINIONS. - -"This volume is likely to meet with as good a reception as any of its -predecessors, for no one can open it without finding something in it -that is at once amusing and instructive. All the information which it -contains is modestly and pleasantly given.... It will be seen that this -volume abounds with diverting and suggestive extracts. It seems to us -particularly well adapted for parochial lending-libraries."—_Saturday -Review._ - -"Full of odd, quaint, out-of-the-way bits of information upon all -imaginable subjects is this amusing volume, wherein Mr. Timbs discourses -upon domestic, rural, metropolitan, and social life; interesting nooks -of English localities; time-honoured customs, and old-world observances; -and, we need hardly add, Mr. Timbs discourses well and pleasantly upon -all."—_Notes and Queries._ - -"This is another of those curious repertories of out-of-the-way facts, -to the compilation of which Mr. Timbs appears to have a prescriptive -right. The reader must be at once very well-informed and very difficult -to please who fails to find in _Something for Everybody_ ample materials -both for instruction and amusement."—_Spectator._ - -"A collection made by a diligent scholar in a long life of literature, -and imparting information in such a manner as to be pleasing to the -young and welcome to the old. Mr. Timbs has published many good books, -but none better or more deserving of popularity than that to which he -has given the appropriate title of _Something for Everybody_."—_London -Review._ - -"In this volume the author certainly maintains the position which he has -won for himself as a most indefatigable collector and compiler of useful -information, in a form at once clear, accurate, and vastly -entertaining."—_English Churchman._ - -"A very entertaining volume, full of varied information."—_Builder._ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - THINGS NOT GENERALLY KNOWN - - Familiarly Explained. - - _In Six Vols. fcap., price 15s. cloth;_ - _Or sold in separate volumes, price 2s. 6d. each, viz.:_ - -GENERAL INFORMATION. FIRST AND SECOND SERIES. 2 vols. - -"A remarkably pleasant and instructive little book; a book as full of -information as a pomegranate is full of seed."—_Punch._ - -CURIOSITIES OF SCIENCE. FIRST AND SECOND SERIES. 2 vols. - -"There is not a man of science who would not be arrested by this -book, on matters which he never knew, and on matters which he had -forgotten. At the same time there is not any man out of science who -would find Mr. Timbs’s phalanx of extracts uninteresting or -unintelligible."—_Athenæum._ - -CURIOSITIES OF HISTORY. 1 vol. - -"We can conceive no more amusing book for the drawing-room, or one more -useful for the school-room."—_Art-Journal._ - -POPULAR ERRORS EXPLAINED. 1 vol. - -"A work which ninety-nine persons out of every hundred would take up -whenever it came in their way, and would always learn something -from."—_English Churchman._ - - --------------------- - - LOCKWOOD AND CO., STATIONERS’ HALL-COURT. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - The Mystic World. - - -------------- - - This day, with a Frontispiece, 5_s._ cloth, - - PREDICTIONS REALIZED - IN MODERN TIMES. - - NOW FIRST COLLECTED - - BY HORACE WELBY. - -CONTENTS: Days and Numbers.—Prophesying Almanacs.—Omens.—Historical -Predictions.-Predictions of the French Revolution.—The Bonaparte -Family.—Discoveries and Inventions anticipated.—Scriptural Prophecies, -&c. - - LITERARY OPINIONS. - -"This is an odd but attractive volume, compiled from various and often -little-known sources, and is full of amusing reading."—_The Critic._ - -"A volume containing a variety of curious and startling narratives on -many points of supernaturalism, well calculated to gratify that love of -the marvellous which is more or less inherent in us all."—_Notes and -Queries._ - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - _By the same Author, with an Emblematic Frontispiece, 5s. cloth,_ - - MYSTERIES - - OF - - LIFE, DEATH, AND FUTURITY; - - ILLUSTRATED FROM THE BEST AND LATEST AUTHORITIES. - - - CONTENTS. - - LIFE AND TIME. - NATURE OF THE SOUL. - SPIRITUAL LIFE. - MENTAL OPERATIONS. - BELIEF AND SCEPTICISM. - PREMATURE INTERMENT. - PHENOMENA OF DEATH. - SIN AND PUNISHMENT. - THE CRUCIFIXION OF OUR LORD. - MAN AFTER DEATH. - THE INTERMEDIATE STATE. - RECOGNITION OF THE BLESSED. - THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. - THE FUTURE STATES, ETC. - -"It is a great deal to be able to say in favour of this book that we -have discovered nothing in it which can annoy or offend a member of any -Christian denomination; and that many of the quotations are not only -valuable in themselves, but have been collected from sources not easily -accessible to the general reader. Not a few of the chapters are, -however, Mr. Welby’s own composition; and these are, for the most part, -thoughtfully and carefully written."—_The Critic._ - -"The author and compiler of this work is evidently a largely-read and -deeply-thinking man. For its plentiful suggestiveness alone it should -meet with a kindly and grateful acceptance. It is a pleasant, dreamy, -charming, startling little volume, every page of which sparkles like a -gem in an antique setting."—_Weekly Dispatch._ - -"This book is the result of extensive reading and careful noting; it is -such a commonplace book as some thoughtful divine or physician might -have compiled, gathering together a vast variety of opinions and -speculations bearing on physiology, the phenomena of life, and the -nature and future existence of the soul. With these are blended facts, -anecdotes, personal traits of character, and well-grounded arguments, -with the one guiding intention of strengthening the Christian’s faith -with the thoughts and conclusions of the great and good of the earth. -Mr. Horace Welby has brought together a mass of matter that might be -sought in vain through the most extensive library; and we know of no -work that so strongly compels reflection, and so well assists -it."—_Lond. Review._ - - --------------------- - -W. KENT AND CO., PATERNOSTER-ROW. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - Transcriber’s Notes - -Italic text in the original is delimited by _underscores_. Bold and -spaced-text in the original is delimited by =equal signs=. A caret [^] -has been used to indicate that the following number is an exponent—i.e. -raised above the base line. - - 1. Copyright notice was provided as in the original printed text—this - e-text is public domain in the country of publication. - - 2. Obvious typographical errors were silently corrected; non-standard - spellings and dialect were retained. - - 3. On page 23, an “i” was changed to an “I” where the meaning was first - person singular, nominative case. - - 4. Typo on page 23: “Habden” was changed to “Hebden”. - - 5. A section header was added for any section listed in the Table of - Contents which didn’t show in the text (other than as a page header). - - 6. In the first pararaph on page 98 there is an arithmetical error which - has been left uncorrected. - - 7. On p. 126, the first paragraph of quotation, “non-professional - educational” was changed to “non-professional education” to be - parallel to previous sentence. - - 8. On p. 173, both of the spellings, “preses” and “præses”, were used. - Neither is considered wrong. 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