SELF-HELP WITH ILLUSTRATIONS OF Charaotee and Conduct BY SAMUEL SMILES AUTHOR OF "THE LIFE OF ^4EORQE STEPHENSON" "This above All,—To thine own self be tru« ; And it must follow, as the ni^fht the day, Thou canst not then be false to anv man." Shakspeabe A REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION New York: 46 East I4Th Street THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO Boston : 100 Purchase Street INTRODUCTION. Tkb origin of tMs book may be briefly told. Some fifteen years since, the author was requested to deliver an address before the members of some evening classes, which had been formed in a northern town for mutual improvement, under the following cncumstances : — Two or three young men of the humblest rank re¬ solved to meet in the winter evenings, for the purpose of improving themselves by exchanging knowledge with each other. Their first meetings were held in the room of a cottage in which one of the members lived ; and, as others shortly joined them, the place soon became inconveniently filled. When summer set in, they adjourned to the cottage garden outside ; and the classes were then held in the open air, round a little boarded hut used as a garden-house, in which those who officiated as teachers set the sums, and gave forth the lessons of the evening. When the weather was fine, the youths might be seen, until a late hour, hanging round the door of the hut like a cluster of bees ; but sometimes a sudden shower of îv INTRODUCTION. rain would dash the sums from their slates, and dis¬ perse them for the evening unsatisfied. Winter, with its cold nights, was drawing near, and what were they to do for shelter ? Their numbers had by this time so increased, that no room of an or¬ dinary cottage could accommodate them. Though they were for the most part young men earning compara¬ tively small weekly wages, they resolved to incur the Ask of hiring a room ; and, on making inquiry, they found a large, dingy apartment to let, which had been used as a temporary Cholera-hospital. No tenant ^ould be found for the place, which was avoided as if a -plague still clung to it. But the mutual improvement youths, nothing daunted, hired the cholera-room, at so much a week, lit it up, placed a few benches and a deal table in it, and began their winter classes. The place soon presented a busy and cheerful appearance in the evenings. The teaching may have been, as no doubt it was, of a very rude and imperfect sort ; but it was done with a will. Those who knew a little taught those who knew less, — improving themselves while they improved the others ; and, at all events, setting before them a good working example. Thus these youths — and there were also grown men amongst them — proceeded to teach themselves and each other, reading and writing, arithmetic and geog¬ raphy ; and even mathematics, chemistry, and some of the modern languages. About a hundred young men had thus come to¬ gether, when, growing ambitious, they desired to have lectures delivered to them; and then it,was that the INTRODUCTION. V author became acquainted with their proceedings. A partj of them waited on him, for the purpose of in¬ viting him to deliver an introductory address, or, as they expressed it, to talk to them a bit ; " prefac¬ ing the request by a modest statement of what they had done and what they were doing. He could not fail to be touched by the admirable self-helping spirit which they had displayed ; and, though entertaining but slight faith in popular lecturing, he felt that a few words of encouragement, honestly and sincerely uttered, might not be without some good effect. And in this spirit he addressed them on more than one occasion, citing examples of what other men had done, as illustrations of what each might, in a greater or less degree, do for himself ; and pointing out that their happiness and well-being as individuals in after¬ life, must necessarily depend mainly upon themselves, — upon their own diligent self-culture, self-discipline, and self-control, — and, above all, on that honest and upright performance of individual duty, which is the glory of manly character. There was nothing in the slightest degree new or original in this counsel, which was as old as the Prov¬ erbs of Solomon, and possibly quite as familiar. But old-fashioned though the advice may have been, it was welcomed. The youths went forward in their course ; worked on with energy and resolution ; and, reaching manhood, they went forth in various direc¬ tions into the world, where many of them now occupy positions of trust and usefulness. Several years after the incidents referred to, the subject was unexpect^ fi INTRODUCTION. edly recalled to the author's recollection by an eveiK ing visit from a young man,—apparently fresh from the work of a foundry,— who explained that he was now an employer of labor and a thriving man ; and he was pleased to remember with gratitude the words spoken in all honesty to him and to his fellow-pupils years before, and even to attribute some measure of his success in life to the endeavors which he had made to w^ork up to their spirit. The author's personal interest having in this way been attracted to the subject of Self-Help, he was ac¬ customed to add to the memoranda from which he had addressed these young men ; and to note down occa¬ sionally in his leisure evening moments, after the hours of business, the results of such reading, obser¬ vation, and experience of life, as he conceived to bear upon it. One of the most prominent illustrations cited in his earlier addresses, was that of George Ste¬ phenson, the engineer ; and the original interest of the subject, as well as the special facilities and oppor¬ tunities which the author possessed for illustrating Mr. Stephenson's life and career, induced him to prosecute it at his leisure, and eventually to publish his biography. The present volume is written in a similar spirit, as it has been similar in its origin. The illustrative sketches of character introduced, are, however, necessarily less elaborately treated,—-being busts rather than full-length portraits, and, in many of the cases, only some striking feature has been noted ; the lives of individuals, as indeed of nations, often concentrating their lustre and interest in a few INTRODUCTION. passages. Such as the hook is, the author now leaves it in the hands of the reader ; in the hope that the lessons of industry, perseverance, and self-culture, which it contains, will be found useful and instruo- live, as well as generally interesting. CONTENTS. CHAPTER L ÖÄLP-HELP, — NATIONAL AND INDIVIDUA!. Spirit nf fiftlf-help—.Institutions and men—National prcjgress aiwf decay — Governm'ént^lTrêflex of the indivr(kcahsm" Öf' a ' h — Triíe liberty rests on character — Energetic self-help a prominent feature in the English character—The greatest workers have sprung from the ranksUses of biography — Marked individuality of the Englishman — His school of practical life — Opinions of for¬ eigners as to English character : Goethe, Wiese, Rendu — Energy of character exhibited in the humbler ranks — Barbers — Shaks- peare — Day-laborers — Weavers — ShoeDiaketg^--_-=::--XaIlQr.s — Humble origin of many eminent men — Discovery of a geologist by Sir IRTAÎïïrcEïson — Industry honorably recognized in England — Joseph Brotherton — W. S. Lindsay — The middle classes — New¬ ton and Adams — Sons of clergymen — Sons of attorneys — Sons of tradesmen — Richard Owen — Individual application the price of success — Riches not necessary— The wealthy classes — Scientific men : Bacon, Boyle, Cavendish, Rosse ^ Eminent politicians : Peel, Brougham, Bulwer Lytton, Disraeli — The national character put to the test in India — MontalemberPs opinion — Modern heroism Page 15-39 CHAPTER n. LEADERS OP INDUSTRY, — INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS. industry of the English nation —^ Work the best educator— The great inventors principally working men — Forgotten inventors — Inven¬ tion of the steam-engineJames Watt — Establishment of the a* ST CONTENTS. t>»tton manufacture — Sir Richard Arkwright — Business qualities of Matthew Beulten—The Peels of South Lancashire — Robert Pec] — His invention of calico-printing—His character described by his son— The first Sir Robert Peel (of Bury); his small begin¬ nings as a manufacturer— Peel's marriageHis success — Josiah Wedgwood, founder of the Staffordshire Potteries; his industry, energy, and success — Herbert Minton — Industrial heroes. 40-60 CHAPTER III. APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. Fortune on the side of the industrious — Genius is patience — Newton and Kepler — G. P. Bidder — Industry of eminent men — Repeti¬ tion of effort — Sir Robert Peel's cultivation of memory in Drayton Church — Facility comes by practice — Impatience deprecated — Cheerfulness — Sydney Smith—Dr. Hook — Hope, an important element in character—Carey, the missionary—Anecdote of Dr. Young — Anecdote of Audubon, the ornithologist—Anecdote of Mr. Carlyle and the MS. of his " French Revolution " — Persever¬ ance displayed in the discovery of the Nineveh marbles by Rawlin- son and Layard — Sir Walter Scott's perseverance—*John Britton — Loudon — Samuel Drew — Joseph Hume 67-95 CHAPTER IV. HELPS AND OPPORTUNITIES,— SCIENTIFIC PURSUITS. No great result achieved by accident — Newton's discoveries — Dr. T oung — Intelligent observation— Galileo — Inventions of Brown, Watt, and Brunei, accidentally suggested — Philosophy in little things — Franklin and Galvani — Discovery of steam-power— Op¬ portunity must be seized or made—Humble tools of great workers — Lee and Stone's opportunities for learning— Sir Walter Scott's — Dr. Priestley — Sir Humphry Davy — Faraday — Davy and Cole¬ ridge— Cuvier and Hugh Miller—Sir Joseph Paxton — Dalton'c industry — Examples of improvement of time—Elihu Burritt — Daguesseau and Bentham — Melancthon and Baxter — Writing down observations — Great note-makers — John Hunter; his pa¬ tient study of little things — Harvey — Jenner—Sir Charles Bell — Dr. Marshall Hall — Sir William Herschel —William Smith, the geologist — Hugh Miller — Sir R. Murcbison 96-134 CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. WORKERS IN ART. Sir Joshua Reynolds's belief in the force of industry - English artists self-educated — Michael Angelo an indeñitigable worker — Art, a long labor—Wilson — Early indications of artistic taste — Ho¬ garth's habits of observation and industry—Banks — Mulready — Nollekens— Career of Flaxman— Chantrey — Wilkie and Haydon — Turner — Privations endured by artists — Martin — Pugin — Kemp — Gibson — Thorburn — Noel Paton — James Sharpies — [ndustrj of musicians; Haydn, Beethoven, Bach, Meyerbeer — Dr. Arne — William Jackson* 135-179 CHAPTER VI. INDUSTRY AND THE ENGLISH PEERAGE. i The peerage fed from the industrial ranks — Intermingling of classes — Peers among mechanics—Peerages founded by London trades¬ men and merchants — Perseverance of Richard Foley, founder of the Foley peerage — Adventurous career of Sir William Phipps, founder of the Normanby peerage— Sir William Petty, founder of the Lansdowne peerage — Jedediah Strutt, founder of the Belper peerage — Naval and military peers — Peerages founded by lawyers — Lord Mansfield — Lord St. Leonards — Lord Tenterden—Lord Campbell — Lord Eldon—Lord Langdale 1 CHAPTER VII. ENERGY AND COURAGE. Energy characteristic of the Teutonic race —The ibundations of ^ strength of character — Force of purpose — Power of will —• Coura- geous working — The~ will practically free— Words ^ Laimnenais ''3pîcUBTrxtorr=riW will There is a way — Suwarrow — Napoleon — Wellington — Promptitude of action — The energy dis¬ played by Englishmen in India—Warren Hastings — Napier — The Indian swordsman — The recent rebellion — The Lawrences — Nicholson — Siege of Delhi — Hodson — Missionary laborers — Henry Martyn — John Williams — David Livingstone — Howard - The career of Jonas Hanway—The labors of Granville Sharp — Clarkson — Fowell Buxton 202-251 CONTENTS CHAPTER VIIL BUSINESS QUALITIES. HazIitPs definition of the man of business — His chief qualities Men of genius men of business — Shakspeare, Chaucer, Spenser, Illilton, Cowper, Scott, Wordsworth — Ricardo, Grote, Mill — Inv dustry and application the price of success — Lord Melbourne's advice — The school of difficulty wholesome — Conditions of suc¬ cess in law — Too much ease not good for a man — Causes of fail¬ ure — Every man his own best friend or worst enemy— Dr. Johnson on the alleged injustice of " the world " — Practical qualities nec¬ essary in business — Attention to small matters — Accuracy — Words of Mr. Dargan — Charles James Fox — Method — Lord Bur¬ leigh and De Witt, their dispatch of business — Promptitude — Economy of time — Punctuality — Energy — Tact — Routine and Red-Tapeism — The Duke of Wellington's career as a man of busi¬ ness — Honesty the best policj- — Integrity' in business — Words of Baron Dupin — Trials and temptations of trade — Confidence re¬ posed by business men in each other — Dishonesty in business The " happy warrior " — David Barclay 252-278 CHAPTER IX. MONEY, — USE AND ABUSE. The right use of money a test of practical wisdom — Economy nec¬ essary to independence — The improvident classes helpless — Im¬ portance of frugality as a public question—Words of Richard Cobden and John Bright—Independence within reach of most working men — High purposes of economy — Advice given to Fran¬ cis Horner by his father — Robert Burns — Living within the means—Wasters—Running into debt—The debtor a slave — HaydoiTs debts — Fichte — Dr. Johnson on debt—The Duke of Wellington on debt—Washington — Earl St. Vincent —Beginning well — Living too high, a vice in England — Napier's general order to his officers in India — Resistance to temptation—Hugh Miller's case — High standard of living necessarv—Secret of money-mak¬ ing embodied in popular proverbs — Career of Thomas Wrignt-- All honest industry honorable — An illustrious sweep — Mere money-making — T he " love of money '' — Worhlly success — Thi power of money over-estimated—Joseph Brotherton — Respecta¬ bility, its highest standarc»* . ..,,. 279- CONTENTS CHAPTER X. SELF-CULTURE. ünlttirs mnst include all parts of man's nature — Physical culture — Words of Milton — Neglect of bodily exercise produces mental green-sickness as well as ill health — Words of Ilodson — Free usa of the body and limbs neglected — Uses of mechanical work — Early physical self-cnlturc of Newton — Success of professional men very much a question of health—^ Lawyers and legislators — Lords Pal- merston and Brougham — Health of Sir Walter Scott— The divines Barrow, Fuller, and Clarke — Diligent application necessary for self-culture— Resolute purpose — Plodding is on the road of genius — Thoroughness — Lord St. Leonards and Bui wer Lytton — Defi¬ nite objects in study—Having to rely upon one's own resources useful — Evils of want of confidence — Popular roads to knowledge — Labor-saving processes fallacious — Labor indispensable — Im¬ patience to be avoided—The best culture is self-culture — Dr. Arnold — Knowledge and wisdom — "Knowledge is power," so is ignorance — Importance of literary culture probably overrated — Books not the best teachers — The discipline of life and action more valuable—Self-discipline and self-control— Self-respect—Knowl¬ edge as a means of " getting on "— Words of Southey— Competi¬ tive examination its possible evils 309-336 CHAPTER XL FACILITIES AKD DIFFICULTIES. Facilities of modern times — Mechanism of the age — Words of Ruskin — Mechanical expedients of " progress " — Mechanical education — Cramming — Knowledge made pleasant — Amusement — Novel- reading— Pursuit of pleasure—Benjamin Constant — Augustin Thierry — Coleridge and Southey — Robert Nicoll — Uses of diili- culty— Beethoven's opinion of Rossini — Mendelssohn — Experienca learned by encounter with difficulty — Adversity and prosperity — The battle of life an up-hill fight — Difficulty the best school of discipline— Disraeli, Henry Clay, Curran — Professors Murray and Moor— William Chambers — William Cobbett— Sir Samuel Rom- illy — John Lcyden—Professor Lee — Late learners — Illustrious dunces — Barrow, Clarke, Swift, Chalmers, Sheridan, Scott, CI at terton. Clive, Howard, and others — The difference between boya consists in energy — Their success in life depends on perseverance. 337-370 CONTEIíTS. CHAPTER Xn. EXAMPLE,— MODELS. Ëîxample a great teacher — Influence of conduct — Parental exampli — No act "Without its train of consequences — Words pf Babbage — Human responsibility — Every person owes a good example to others—Doing, not telling — Mrs. Chisholm — Dr. Guthrie and John Pounds — Example works in unseen directions — Good models of conduct — The company of our betters — Francis Horner's views on personal intercourse — The Marquis of Lansdowne and Malesherbes — Fowell Buxton and the Gurney family — Persona) influence of John Sterling — Influence of artistic genius upon others — Example of the brave an inspiration to the timid — Biography valuable as furnishing high models of character — Lives influenced by biography — Romilly, Franklin, Drew, Alfleri, Loyola, Wolff» Horner, Reynolds — E'xamples of cheerfulness — Dr. Arnold's in¬ fluence over others — Career of Sir John Sinclair 371-395 CHAPTER XIII. CHARACTER,— THE TRUE GENTLEMAN. Character the noblest possession of a man—Character of Francis Horner — Franklin--Tlharacter is power — Its higher qualities — Lord Erskine's rules of conduct — A high standard of life necessary o — Truthfulness — Wellington's character of Peel — Be what you seem — Integrity and honesty of action — Importance of habits — Habits constitute character—Growth of habit in youth — Trivial things indicate character — Manners and morals — Civility and its opposite — Anecdote of Abernethy — Prejudices — Men of the great heart of no exclusive rank or class — The Grants, " Brothers Cheery • ble " — The Gentleman — Lord Edward Fitzgerald— Honor, probity, rectitude — The gentleman will not be bribed — Anecdotes of Wel¬ lington and Wellesley — The poor may be rich in spirit — A noble peasant — Anecdotes of the Emperor of Austria, and two English navvies — Truth makes the success of the gentleman — Courage and gentleness — Gentltmen in India—Outram, Henry Lawrence, Lord Clyde — Private soldiers at Agra — The wreck of the Birken- head—The exercise of power the crucial test of the gentleman — Sir Ralph Abercrombie — Fuller's character of Sir Francis Drake. 396-423 BELF-HELP, an. CHAPTER 1. self-hblï^, — national and individual. The worth of a ^tute, in the long run, is the worth of the indÍTidiuÍf eomposing it." — J". S MEN- Chap, t Isaac Newton, who was the son of tt yeoman, the ownef and farmer of a little property at Woolsthorpe, in Lincoln- ghire, worth only about thirty pounds a year» The dis¬ tinguished astronomer Adams, the discoverer of Neptune, was born in the same condition of life ; his father being a small farmer on one of the bleakest spots on Dartmoor, a region in which, however sterile the soil may be, it is clear that nature is capable of growing the manliest of men. The sons of clergymen, and ministers of religion gen¬ erally, have particularly distinguished themselves in our country's history. Amongst them we find the names of Drake and Nelson, celebrated in naval heroism ; of Wol- \ laston, Young, Playfair, and Bell, in science ; of Wren, Reynolds, Wilson, and Wilkie, in art ; of Thurlow and Campbell, in law ; and of Addison, Thomson, Goldsmith, Coleridge, and Tennyson, in literature. Lord Hardinge, Colonel Edwardes, and Major Hodson, so honorably known in Indian warfare, were also the sons of clergy¬ men. Indeed, the empire of England in India was won and held chiefly by men of the middle class, — such as Clive, Warren Hastings, and their successors, — men, for the most part, bred in factories, and trained to habits of practical business. Among the sons of attorneys we find Edmund Burke, 8meaton the engineer, Scott and Wordsworth, and Lords Somers, Hardwick, and Dunning. Sir William Black- stone was the posthumous son of a silk-mercer. Lord Gifibrd's father was a grocer at Dover ; Lord Denman's a physician ; Judge Talfourd's a country brewer ; and Lord Chief Baron Pollock's was a rather celebrated sad' dler at Charing Cross. Layard, the discoverer of the mom iments of Nineveh, was an articled clerk in a London olicitor's office ; and Sir William Armstrong, the inventor Chap. I. PRICE PAID FOR DISTINCTION. 3i of hydraulic machinery and of the Armstrong ordnance^ was also trained to the law, and even practised for some time as an attorney. Milton was the son of a London scrivener, and Pope and Southey were the sons of linen» drapers. Professor Wilson was the son of a Paisley mam ufacturer, and Lord Macaulay of an African merchant* Keats was a druggist, and Sir Humphry Davy a country apothecary's apprentice. Speaking of himself, Davy once said, " What I am I have made myself ; I say this without vanity, and in pure simplicity of heart." Rich¬ ard Owen, the Newton of natural history, began life as a midshipman, and did not enter upon the line of scientific research in which he has since become so distinguished, until comparatively late in life. He laid the foundations of his knowledge while engaged in cataloguing the mag¬ nificent museum of specimens accumulated by the indus¬ try of John Hunter, a work which occupied him at the College of Surgeons during a period of not less than ten years. In all these cases strenuous individual application was the price paid for distinction ; excellence of any sort be¬ ing invariably placed beyond the reach of indolence. It is the diligent hand and head alone that maketh rich —' in self-culture, growth in wisdom, and in business. Even when men are born to wealth and high social position, any solid reputation which they may individually achieve is only attained by energetic application ; for though an inheritance of acres may be bequeathed, an inluTitance ßf knowledge and wisdom cannot. The wealthy maiî may pay others for doing his work for him, but it is im¬ possible to get his thinking done for him by anothef, or to purchase any kind of self-culture. Indeed, the doc¬ trine that excellence in any pursuit is to be achieved by ANECDOTE OF BISHOP GROSTESTE. Ch^P. I kborîous application only, holds as true in the case of the man of wealth as in that of Drew and Gilford, who.^ only school was a cobbler's staP, or Hugh Miller, whose only college was a Cromarty stonequarry. The knowledge and experience which produce v/is- dom, can only become a man's individual possession and property by his own free action ; and it is as futile to expect these without laborious, ¡xiinstaking effort, as it is to hope to gather a harvest where the seed has not been sown. It is related of Grosteste, an old bishop of Lincoln, possessing great power in his day, that he was once asked by his stupid and idle brother to make a great man of him. "Brother," replied the bishop, "if your plough is broken, I'll pay for the mending of it ; or, if your ox should die, I'll buy you another ; but I cannot make a great man of you ; a ploughman I found you, and I fear a ploughman I must leave you." Riches and ease, it is perfectly clear, are not necessary for man's highest culture, else had not the world been so largely indebted in all times to those who have sprung from the humbler ranks. An easy and luxurious exist¬ ence does not train men to effort or encounter with difñ- culty ; nor does it awaken that consciousness of power which is so necessary for energetic and effective action in life. Indeed, so far from poverty being a misfortune, it may, by vigorous self-help, be converted even into a bless¬ ing; rousing a man to that struggle with the world in which, though some may purchase ease by degradation, Ihe right-minded and true-hearted will find strength, con¬ fidence, and triumph. Bacon says, " Men seem neither to understand their riches nor their strength ; of the for¬ mer they believe greater things than they should ; of the latter rauch less, Self-reliance and self-denial will teach Chap. I. sËLiJ-DEMAi., 83 a man to drink out of his own cistern, and eat Ms own sweet bread, and te learn and' labor tmlj to get his liv¬ ing, and cai'efullj to expend the good thhags committed to his trust/' Riches are so great a temptation to ease and self-indul¬ gence, to which men are hj nature prone, that the glory Is all the greater of those who, born to ample fortune, nevertheless take an active part in the work of their generation, — who " scorn delights and hve laborious days." It is to the honor of the wealthier ranks in this country that they are not idlers ; for they do their fair share of the w^ork of the state, and usually take more than their fair share of its dangers. It was » fine thing said of a subaltern officer in the Peninsular campaigns, observed trudging along through mud and mire by the side of his regiment, " There goes 15,000/. » year ! " and in our own day, the bleak slopes of Sebasto¬ pol and the burning soil of India have borne witness t« the like noble self-denial and devotion on the ^art of oui 4 gentler classes ; many a gallant and noble fellow, of rank and estate, leaving risked his life, or lost it, m one or other of those fields of action, in the piihlic servi^^e of his couniiy. Nor have the wealthier classes been undistinguished m the more peaceful pursuits of philosophy and science. Take, for instance, the great names of B^con, the father of modern philosophy, and of Worcester, Boyle, Caven¬ dish, Talbot, and Rosse, in science. The last named may be regarded as the great mechanic of the peerage, a man who, if he had not been born a peer, would probably have taken the highest rank ss .an inventor. So thorough i» Ms knowledge of smith-work that he is said to have been pressed on one occasion to accept the foremanship of 3 C '¿^ 64 SIR ROBERT PEEL. chai\ 1. Sarge workshop, by a manufacturer to whom Lis rank waa unknown. The great Rosse telescope, of his own fabri« cation, is certainly the most extraordinary instrument of the kind that has yet been constructed. But it is principally in the departments of politics and literature that we find the most energetic laborers amongst our higher classes. Success in these lines of action, as in all others, can only be achieved through industry, practice, and study; and the great minister or parliamentary leader, must necessarily be amongst the very hardest of workers. Such are Palmerston and Dei^by, Russell and Disraeli, Gladstone and Bulwer. These men have had the benefit of no Ten Hours' Bill, but have often, during the busy season of Parliament, worked " double shift," almost day and niííht. One of the most illustrious of such workers in modern times was unquestionably the late Sir Robert Peel. He possessed in an extraordinary degree the power of con¬ tinuous intellectual labor, nor did he spare himself. HL« career, indeed, presented a remarkable example of how much a man of comparatively moderate powers can ac¬ complish by means of assiduous application and indefati¬ gable industry. During the forty years that he held a seat in Parliament, his labors were prodigious. He was a most conscientious man, and whatever he undertook to do, he did thoroughly. All his speeches bear evidence of his careful study of everything that had been spoken or writ¬ ten on the subject under consideration. He was elabmate almost to excess ; and spared no pains to adap' himself to the various capacities of his audience. Withal, he pos¬ sessed much practical sagacity, great strength of purpose, and power to direct the issues of action with steady hand and eye. In one respect he surpassed most men : his principles broadened and enlarged with time ; and age, Chap. Î. INDUSTRY OF LORD BROUGHAM. 35 instead of contracting, only served to mellow and idpen hia nature. To the last lie continued open to the reception of new views, and, though many thought him cautious to excess, he did not allow himself to fall into that indis- criminating admiration of the past, which is the palsy oí many minds similarly educated, and renders the old age of many nothing but a pity. The indefatigable industry of Lord Brougham has be¬ come almost proverbial. His public labors have extended over a period of upwards of sixty years, during which he has ranged over many fields, — of law, literature, politics, and science, — and achieved distinction in them all. How he contrived it, has been to many a mystery. Once, when Sir Samuel Romilly was requested to undertake some new work, he excused himself by saying that he had no time, " but,'' he added, " go with it to that fellow Broug¬ ham, he seems to have time for everything." The secret of it was, that he never left a minute unemployed ; withal he possessed a constitution of iron. When arrived at an age at which most men would have retired from the world to enjoy their hard-earned leisure, perhaps to doze away their time in an easy chair. Lord Brougham commenced and prosecuted a sei-ies of elaborate investigations as to the laws of light, and he submitted the results to the most scientific audiences that Paris and London could muster. About the same time, he was passing through the press -his admirable sketches of the " Men of Science and Literature of the Keign of George III.," and taking his full share of the law business and political discussions in the House of Lords. Sydney Smith once recom¬ mended him to confine himself to only the transaction of bo much business as three strong men could get through. But such was Brougham's love of work,long becomö 86 SIR E. BULWER LYTTON. Chap. i a liabit^ — that no amount of application seems to have been too great for him ; and such was his love of excel- ience, that it has been said of him, that if his station in life had been only that of a shoeblack, he would aever have rested satisfied until he had become the best shoe" black in England. Another hard-working man of the same class is Sif E. Bulwer Lytton. Eew writers have done more, of achieved higher distinction in various walks, — as a nov¬ elist, poet, dramatist, historian, essayist, orator, and pol¬ itician. He has worked his way step by step, disdainful of ease, and animated throughout only by the ardent desire to excel. On the score of mere industry, there are few living English writers who have written so much, and none that have produced so much of high quality^ The industry of Bulwer is entitled to all the greater praise that it has been entirely self-imposed. To hunt, and shoot, and live at ease, — to frequent operas, and clubs, and Almack's, enjoying the variety of London sight-seeing, morning calls, and parliamentary small-talk during the " season," and then ofif to the country man¬ sion, with its well-stocked preserves, and its thousand de¬ lightful out-door pleasures, — to travel abroad, to Paris, Vienna, or Kome, — all this is excessively attractive to a lover of pleasure and a man of fortune, and by no means calculated to make him buckle to steady, continuous labor of any kind. Yet these pleasures, all within his reach, Bulwer must, as compared with men born to simi¬ lar estate, have denied himself in assuming the position and pursuing the career of a literary man. Like Byron, his first effort was poetical (" Weeds and Wild Flowers "), and a failure. His second was a novel (" Falkland "), and À proved a failure too. A man of weaker s'uflf would Chap. 1. Mß. DÎSRAELÎ. 37 have dropped authorship ; but Bulwer had pluck and per severance ; and he worked on, determined to succeed. He was incessantly industrious, read prodigiously, and from failure went courageously onwards to success. " Pelham " followed "Falkland'' within a year, and the remainder of Bulwer's literary life, now extending over a period of thirty years, has been a succession of triumphs. Mr. Disraeli affords a similar instance of the power of industry and application in working out an eminent public career. His first achievements were, like Bulwer's, in lit¬ erature ; and he reached success only through a succession of failures. His " Wondrous Tale of Alroy " and " Rev¬ olutionary Epic" were laughed at, and regarded as indi¬ cations of literary lunacy. But he worked on in other directions, and his " Coningsby," " Sybil," and " Tancred," proved the sterling stuff of which he was made. As an orator, too, his first appearance in the House of Commons was a failure. It was spoken of as " more screaming than an Adelphi farce." Though composed in a grand and ambitious strain, every sentence was hailed with " loud laughter." " Hamlet " played as a comedy were nothing to it. But he concluded with a sentence which embodied a prophecy. Writhing under the laughter with which his studied eloquence had been received, he ex¬ claimed, " I have begun several times many things, and have succeeded in them at last. I shall sit down now, but the time will come when you will hear me." The time did come ; and how Disraeli succeeded in at length commanding the rapt attention of the first assembly of gentlemen in the world, affords a striking illustration of what energy and determination will do ; for Lusraeli earned his position by dint of patient industry. He did not, as many young men do, having once failed, retire 58 THE ENGLISH IN INDIA. Chap. L dejected, to mope and whine in a corner, but pluckily set himself to work. He carefully unlearned his faults, stud¬ ied the character of his audience, practised sedulously the art of speech, and industriously filled his mind with the elements of parliamentary knowledge. He worked pa¬ tiently for success ; and it came, but slowly ; then tlie House laughed with him, instead of at him. The recol¬ lection of his early failure was efiaced, and by general consent he was at length admitted to be one of the most finished and effective of parliamentary speakers. Illustrious as are the instances of strong individual¬ ity which we have thus rapidly cited, the number might be largely increased even from the list of living men. One of our most distinguished writers has, it is true, la¬ mented the decay of that strength of individual character which has been the glory of the English nation ; yet, if we mistake not, no age in our history so little justifies such a lament as the present. Never did sudden calam¬ ity more severely test the individual pluck, endurance, and energy of a people, than did the recent outbreak of the rebellion in India ; but it only served to bring out the unflinching self-reliance and dormant heroism of the English race. In that terrible trial all proved almost equally great, — women, civilians, and soldiers, — from the general down through all grades to the private and bugleman. The men were not picked, —• they belonged to the same every-day people whom we daily meet at home, — in the streets, in workshops, in the field'"^ at clubs ; yet when sudden disaster fell upon them, each and all displayed a wealth of personal resources and eii- ergy, and became as it were individually heroic Indeed in no age of England have the finest qualities of men been so brilliantly displayed ; and there are perhaps no Crap i. HEROES OF PEACE. 89 names in our liistorj which outshine those of the modern heroes of India. Montalembert avows that they " do honor to the human race." Citing the great names of Havelock, Nicholson, Peel, Wilson, and Neill, — to which might be added that of Outram, " the Bayard of India," — he goes on to say, " it is not only such names, great beyond comparison, it is the bearing in every re¬ spect of this handful of Englishmen, surprised in thé midst of peace and prosperity by the most frightful and most unforeseen of catastrophes. Not one of them shrank or trembled, — all, military and civilians, young and old, generals and soldiers, resisted, fought and perished with a coolness and intrepidity which never faltered. It is in this circumstance that shines out the immense value of public education, which invites the Englishman from his youth to make use of his strength and his liberty, to as¬ sociate, resist, fear nothing, be astonished at nothing, and to save himself, by his own sole exertions, from every Bore strait in life." Equally brilliant instances of individual force of char¬ acter are also to be found in more peaceful and scientific walks. Is there not Livingstone, with a heroism greater than that of Xavier, penetrating the wilds of South Af¬ rica on his mission of Christian civilization ; Layard laboring for years to disinter the remains of the buried city of Babylon ; Rawlinson, the decipherer of their cuneiform inscriptions ; Brooke, establishing a nucleus of European enterprise and colonization amongst the piratical tribes of the Indian Ocean ; Franklin, Madure, Collinson, M'Clintock, and others, cleaving their way through storms, and ice, and darkness, to solve the prob¬ lem of the northwest passage; — enterprises which, for mdividual daring, self-denial, energy, and heroijrm, are 'insurpassed by those of any age or country. ENGLISH INDÜ STRY. Chap, fl CHAPTER IL LEADERS of industry,—inventors and producers " Rich are the diligent, who can command Time, nature's stock ! and could his hour-glass fall, Would, as for seed of stars, stoop for the sand, And, by incessant labor, gather all."—Avenant, One of the most strongly marked features of the Eng¬ lish people is their indomitable spirit of industry, stand¬ ing out prominent and distinct in all their past history, ind as strikingly characteristic of them now as at any îbrmer period. It is this spirit, displayed by the com¬ mons of England, which has laid the foundations and milt up the industrial greatness of the empire, at home ind in the colonies. This vigorous growth of the nation faas been mainly the result of the free industrial energy ôf individuals ; and it has been contingent upon the lumber of hands and minds from time to time actively employed within it, whether as cultivators of the soil, producers of articles of utility, contrivers of tools and machines, writers of books, or creators of works of art. And while this spirit of active industry has been the vital principle of the nation, it has also been its saving and remedial one, counteracting from time to time the effects of errors in our laws and imperfections in our constitu¬ tion. The career of industry which the nation has pursued, has also proved its best education. As steady application Chap iL LABOR THE BEST OF TEACHERS. 41 to work is the healthiest training for every individual, so is it the best discipline of a state. Honorable indust;*/ always travels the same road with enjoyment and duty ; and progress is altogether impossible without it. The idle pass through life leaving as little trace of their exist¬ ence as foam upon the water, or smoke upon the air; whereas the industrious stamp their character upon their age, and influence not only their own but all succeeding generations. Labor is the best test of the energies of men, and furnishes an admirable training for practical wisdom. Nor is a life of manual employment incom¬ patible with high mental culture. Hugh Miller, than whom none knew better the strength and the weakness belonging to the lot of labor, stated the result of his ex¬ perience to be, that work, even the hardest, is full of pleasure and materials for self-improvement. He held honest labor to be the best of teachers, and that the school of toil is the noblest of schools, — save only the Christian one, — that it is a school in which the ability of being useful is imparted, the spirit of independence learnt, and the habit of persevering eflbrt acquired. He was even of opinion that the training of the mechanic, by the exercise which it gives to his observant faculties, from his daily dealing with things actual and practical, and the close experience of life which he acquire^, bet¬ ter fits him for picking his way through the journey of life, and is more favorable to his growth as a Man, em¬ phatically speaking, than the training aflbrded by any other condition. The array of great names which we have already cur¬ sorily cited, of men springing from the ranks of the indus¬ trial classes, who have achieved distinction in various walks of life, — in science, commerce, literature, and art, 42 INVENTION OF THE STEAM-ENGINE. Chap. U — shows that at all events the difficulties interposed by poverty and labor are not insurmountable. As rC'« spects the great contrivances and inventions which have conferred so much power and wealth upon the nation, it IS unquestionable that for the greater part of them we have been mainly indebted to men of the very humblest rank. Deduct what they have done in this particular line of action, and it will be found that very little indeed remains for other men to have accomplished. The names of many meritorious inventors have been forgotten ; only the more distinguished — men who have marked an epoch in the history of invention — have been remembered ; such, for instance, as those connected with the develop¬ ment of the gigantic powers of the steam-engine. Yet there are hundreds of ingenious but nameless workmen, who have from time to time added substantial improve¬ ments to that wonderful machine, and contributed greatly to the increase of its powers and the extension of its prac¬ tical uses. There are, also, numerous minor inventions, — such, for instance, as the watch which we carry in our pocket, — each important in its way, the history of which has been altogether lost ; and though we have succeeded to the ample inheritance which the inventors have be¬ queathed to us, we know not the names of many of our benefactors. Though the invention of the working steam-engine — the king of machines — belongs, comparatively speaking, to our own epoch, the idea of it was born many centuries «go. Like other contrivances and discoveries, it was effect¬ ed step by step, — one man transmitting the result of his labors, at the time apparently useless, to his successors, who took it up and carried it forward another stage, —« the sentinels of the great idea answering each other across Ch/i . II. JAMES WAIT. 43 the heads of many generations. The idea promulgated by Hero of Alexandria was never altogether lost; but, like the grain of wheat hid in the hand of the Egyptian mummy, it sprouted and grew vigorously when brought into the full light of modern science. The steam-engine was nothing, however, until it emerged from the state of theory, and was taken in hand by practical mechanics; and what a noble story of patient, laborious investigation, of difficulties encountered and overcome by heroic iih dustry, does not that marvellous machine tell of ! It is», indeed, in itself, a monument of the power of self-help man. Grouped around it we find Sawary, the Cornish miner ; Newcomen, the Dartmouth blacksmith ; Cawley the glazier ; Potter, the engine-boy ; Smeaton, the en gineer ; and, towering above all, the laborious, patient never-tiring James Watt, the mathematical instrument maker. Watt was one of the most industrious of men. Wha<^ ever subject came under his notice in the course of h?« business, immediately became to him an object of study and the story of his life proves, what all experience con firms, that it is not the man of the greatest natural vigo* and capacity who achieves the highest results, but he wh^ employs his powers with the greatest industry and the most carefully disciplined skill, — the skill that comes by labor, application, and experience. Many men in his time knew far more than Watt, but none labore 1 so as¬ siduously as he did to turn all that he did know to useful practical purposes. He was, above all things, most per¬ severing in his pursuit of facts. He cultivated carefully that habit of active attention on which all the higher working qualities of the mind mainly depend. Indeed, \Ir. Edgewwth entertained the opinion, that many of the 44 CONDENSING STEAM-ENGINE. Chap. IL gi'eat differences of intellect which are found in men de¬ pend more upon the early cultivation of this liahit of attention, than upon any great disparity between the powers of one individual and another. Even when a boy, Watt found science in his toys. The quadrants lying about his father's carpenter's shop led him to the study of optics and astronomy ; his ill health induced him to pry into the secrets of physiology ; and his solitary walks through the country attracted him to the study of botany, history, and antiquarianism. While carrying on the business of a mathematical instrument- maker, he received an order to build an organ ; and, though without any ear for music, he undertook the study of harmonics, and successfully constructed the instrument. And, in like manner, when the little model of New- comen's steam-engine, belonging to the University of Glasgow, was placed in his hands for repair, he forthwith set himself to learn all that was then known about heat, evaporation, and condensation, — at the same time plod¬ ding his way in mechanics and the science of construc¬ tion, — the results of which he at length embodied in the condensing steam-engine. For ten years he went on contriving and inventing,— with little hope to cheer him, — with few friends to en¬ courage him, — struggling with difficulties, and earning but a ilender living at his trade. Even when he had brought his engine into a practicable working condition, his difficulties seemed to be as far from an end as ever ; and he could find no capitalist to join him in his great undertaking, and bring the invention to a successful prac^ tical issue. He went on, meanwhile, earning bread for his family by making and selling quadrants, making and mending fiddles, flutes, and other musical instruments ÜHAr. xi. íMPROVExMENT OF THE STEAM-ENGINE. 45 measuring mason work, surveying roads, superintending the construction of canals, or doing anything that turned up, and offered a prospect of honest gain. At length Watt found a fit partner in another eminent leader of in¬ dustry, — Matthew Boulton, of Birmingham ; a skilfui^ energetic, and far-seeing man, who vigorously undertook the enterprise of introducing the condensing engine into general use as a working power ; and the success of both is now matter of history. A succession of eminent workmen have, from time to time, added new power to the steam-engine ; and, by numerous modifications, rendered it capable of being ap¬ plied to nearly all the purposes of manufacture, — driv¬ ing machinery, impelling ships, grinding corn, printing books, stamping money, hammering, planing, and turning iron ; in short, of performing any description of mechan¬ ical labor where power is required. One of the most useful modifications in the engine was that devised by Trevithick, another Cornish miner, and eventually per¬ fected by George Stephenson, the colliery engineman, in the invention of the railway locomotive, by which social changes of immense importance have been brought about, of even greater consequence, considered in their results on human progress and civilization, than the condensing engine of Watt. These successive advances, however, Bave not been the result of the genius of any one in¬ ventor ; but of the continuous and successive industry and inventiveness of many generations. What Mr. Ilobert Stephenson recently said of the locomotive, at a meeting of engineers at Newcastle, is true of nearly every other capital invention : " It is due," he said, " not to on 3 man, but to the efforts of a nation of rAecbanical engineers." 46 COITON MANUFACTURE OF GREAT BRITAIN. Chap. U One of the first grand results of Watt's invention, —« which placed an almost unlimited power at the command of the producing classes, — was the establishment of the cotton manufacture of Great Britain. The person most closely identified with the foundation of this great branc It is not every inventor, however skilled, who is a veritable Leader of Industry like Arkwright. Many dis¬ tinguished inventors are found comparatively helpless io the conduct of business, which demands the exercise of different qualities, — the powder of organizing the labor of large numbers of men, promptitude of action on emer¬ gencies, and sagacious dealing with the practical affairs of life. Thus Watt hated that jostling with the world, and contact with men of many classes, which are usually encountered in the conduct of any extensive industrial operation. He declared that he wmuld rather face a loaded cannon than settle an account or make a bargain ; and there is every probability that he wmuld have de¬ rived no pecuniary advantage whatever from his great invention, or been able to defend it against the repealed attacks of the mechanical pirates who fell upon him in Cornwall, London, and Lancashire, had he not been so fortunate as to meet, at the great crisis of his career, with the illustrious Matthew Boulton, " the father of Birming¬ ham." Boulton was a man of essentially different qualities from Watt, but quite as able in his own way. He was one of the first of the great manufacturing potentates now so numerous in the northern and midland counties. BouL ion's commencement in life was humble ; his position be¬ ing only that of a Birmingham button-maker. In his case, as in every other, it was not the calling that ele¬ vated the man, but the man that elevated the calling. He was gifted by nature with fine endowments, which he cul¬ tivated to the utmost. He possessed a genius for business MATTHEW BOULTON. cbap. n, of llie highest order ; being of sound anderstaudlng and quick perception, and prompt to carry out the measures which his judgment approved. Hence he rarely, if ever, failed ; for his various enterprises, bold though they were, w^ere always guided by prudence. He was not a man to drive a wedge the broad end foremost ; because he pos¬ sessed an admirable tact, polished by experience, which enabled him unerringly to determine when and how to act. He actively conducted his business, and never allowed himself to be driven by it. He threw into his daily labors his individual uprightness and integrity, qualities which are the glory of every man's character, whatever his position in life may be. And although he prospered and became rich, according to his deserts, it might be said of him with truth, that there was not a dirty shilling in all that he earned. Beside being great as a man of business, Boulton was a highly cultivated man of science, a generous patron of art, and a diligent cultivator of literature ; but tim chief aim and labor of his life was the practical introduction ot Watt's steam-engine as the great working-power of Eng¬ land. With pride he said to Boswell, when visiting Soho, " I sell here, sir, what all the world desires to have, —• Power." " He had," continues Boswell, " about seven hundred people at work ; I contemplated him as an iron chieftain ; and he seemed to be a father of his tribe." Mrs. Schimmel Penninck characterizes him as a man of noble, open, and cordial manners, and of princely munifi cence ; he went among his people," she says, " like a monarch bestowing largess." He was a true lord and leader of industry. Every step in his career was won by honest w*ork and valiant effort. No envy follows the career of auch a man ; but praise, reward, ard blessings Chap. II. THE PEEL FAMILY. When lie died, he was followed to the grave by the entire body of his workmen, and there was scarcely a dry eye amongst them. All other great branches of industry in Britain furnish equally illustidous examples of energetic men of business, who have been the source of untold benefits to the neigh* borhoods in which they have labored, and of greatly increased power and wealth to the community at large. Amongst such might be cited the Strutts of Belper ; the Tennants of Glasgow ; the Marshalls and Gotts of Leeds ; the Peels, Ash worths, Birleys, Fieldens, Ash tons, Hey woods, and Ains worths of South Lancashire. For the present, however, we shall confine ourselves to a single family, since become eminently distinguished in connection with the political history of England ; we refer to the Peels of South Lancashire. The founder of the Peel family, about the middle of last century, was a small yeoman, occupying the Hole House Farm, near Blackburn, from which he afterwards re* moved to a house situated in Fish Lane in that town ßobert Peel, as he advanced in life, saw a large family of sons and daughters growing up about him ; but the land about Blackburn being somewhat barren, it did not appear to him that agricultural pursuits offered a very encouraging prospect for their industry. The place had, however, long been the seat of a domestic manufacture, — the fabric called " Blackburn grays," consisting of linen weft and cotton warp, being chiefly made in that town and its neighborhood. It was then customary — previ¬ ous to the introduction of the factory system — for indus¬ trious yeomen with families to employ the time not occupied in the fields in weaving at home ; and Robert Peel accordingly began the domestic trade of calico- THE PEEL FAMILY. i :iakmg. He was honest, and made an honest article | thrifty and hard-working ; and his trade prospered. He was also enterprising, and was one of the first to adopt the carding cylinder, then recently invented. But Eobert Peel's attention was principally directed to the f rinting of calico, — then a comparatively unknown art,—»and for some time he carried on a series of ex¬ periments with the object of printing by machinery. The experiments were secretly conducted in his own house, the cloth being ironed for the purpose by one of the women of the family. It was then customary, in such houses as the Peels, to use pewter plates at dinner. Having sketched a figure or pattern on one of the plates, the thought struck him that an impression might be got from it in reverse, and printed on calico with color. In a cottage at the end of the farm-house lived a woman who kept a calendering machine, and going into her cottage, he put the plate with color rubbed into the figured part and some calico over it through the machine, when it was found to leave a satisfactory impression. Such is said to have been the origin of roller printing on calico. Robert Peel shortly perfected his process, and the first pattern he brought out was a parsley leaf ; hence he is spoken of in the neighborhood of Blackburn to this day as Pars¬ ley Peel." The process of calico-printing by what is called the mule machine, — that is, by means of a wooden cylinder in relief, with an engraved copper cylinder, — was afterwards brought to perfection by one of his sons, the head of the firm of Messrs. Peel and Co., of Church Stimulated by his success, Robert Peel shortly gave up farming, and removing to Brookside, a village about two miles from Blackburn, he devoted himself exclusively to the printing business. There, with the aid of his sons. Chap.- IL THE PEEL i^AAULY. 55 who were as energetic as himself, he su(,cessfully carried on the trade for several years ; and as the young men grew up towards manhood, the concern branched out iiitf various firms of Peels, each of which became a centre of industrial progress and remunerative employment to Targe numbers of people. From all that can now be learned of the character of the original and untitled Pobert Peel, he must have been a remarkable man, — shrewd, sagacious, and far-seeing. But very little is known of him excepting from tradition, and the sons of those who knew him are fast passing away. It is not the liyes of such men that are usually recorded in books. The men who "say good things" have always a better chance of being remembered in lit¬ erature than those who do them. Men who write a play, or a book of poetry, will secure a biography, where men who establish new branches of industry, or give a fresh impulse to society in connection with invention and pro¬ duction, are shortly forgotten. Nevertheless, the works of such public benefactors live after them, and their be¬ neficent example is reproduced in the action and char¬ acter of their successors. His son. Sir Robert, the first Baronet, thus modestly spoke of his father, the founder of the family : " He moved in a confined sphere, and em¬ ployed his talents in improving the cotton trade. He had neither the wish nor opportunity of making himself ac¬ quainted with his native country, or society far removed from his native county of Lancaster. I lived under his roof till I attained the age of manhood, and had many opportunities of discovering that he possessed, in an emi¬ nent degree, a mechanical genius and a good heart. He had many sons, and placed them all in situations where they might be useful to each other* The cotton trade 56 THE PEEL FAMILY. Chap. H was preferred as best calculated to secure this object? and by habits of industry, and imparting to his offspring an intimate knowledge of the various branches of the cot¬ ton manufacture, he lived to see his children connected together in business, and, by their successful exertions, become without one exception, opulent and happy. My father may be truly said to have been the founder of our family ; and he so accurately appreciated the im¬ portance of commercial wealth in a national point of view, that he was often heard to say that the gains to individ¬ uals were small compared with the national gains arising from trade." Sir Robert Peel (the first baronet), and the second manufacturer of the name, inherited all his father's enter¬ prise, ability, and industry. His position at starting in life, was little above that of an ordinary working man ; for his father, though laying the foundations of future prosperity, was still struggling with the difficulties aris¬ ing from insufficient capital. When Robert was only twenty years of age, he determined to begin the business of cotton-printing, which he had by this time learnt with his father, on his own account. His uncle, James Ha- worth, and William Yates of Blackburn, joined him in his enterprise ; the whole capital which they could raise amongst them amounting to only about 500^., the principal part of which was supplied by William Yates. His father kept a small inn in Blackburn, where he was well known as " Yates o' th' Bull ; " and having saved money by his business, he was willing to advance sufficient to give his son a start in the lucrative trade of cotton-printing, then in its infancy. Robert Peel, though comparatively a mere youth, supplied the practical knowledge of the business ; but it was said of him, and proved true, that he carried Chap. II. LADY PEEL Bi an old head on your^, shoulders/' A ruined corn-mill, with its adjoining fields, was purchased for a comparatively small sum, near the then insignificant town of Bury, where the works long after a'>ntinued to be known as "The Ground ; " and a few wooden sheds having been run up, the firm commenced their cotton-printing business in a very humble way in the y©ar 1770, adding to it that of cotton-spinning a few years later. The frugal style in which the partners lived may be inferred from the fol¬ lowing incident in their early career. William Yates, being a married man with a familv, commenced house¬ keeping on a small scale, and to oblige Peel, who was single, he agreed to take him as a lodger. The sum which the latter first paid for board and lodging, was only 8ä. a week ; but Yates, considering this too little, insisted on the weekly payment being increased a shilling, to which Peel at first demurred, and a difference between the partners took place, which was eventually compro¬ mised by the lodger paying an advance of sixpence a week. William Yates's eldest child was a girl named Ellen, and she very soon became an especial favorite with the young lodger. On returning from his hard da/s work at " The Ground," he would take the little girl upon his knee, and say to her, " Nelly, thou bonny litde dear, wilt be my wife ? " to which the child would readily an¬ swer " Yes," as any child would do. " Then I'll wait for thee, Nelly ; I'll wed thée, and none else." And Robert Peel did wait. As the girl grew in beauty towards womanhood, his determination to wait for her was strength¬ ened; and after the lapse of ten years — years of close application to business and rapidly increasing prosperity — Robert Peel married Ellen Yates when she had com¬ pleted her seventeenth year ; and the pretty child, whoias 5b THE PEEL FIRMS. Chap. IX her mother's lodger and father's partner had nursed upon his knee, became Mrs. Peel, and eventually Lady Peel, the mother of the future Prime Minister of England. Lady Peel was a noble and beautiful woman, fitted to grace any station in life. She possessed rare powers of mind, and was, on every emergency, the high-souled and faithful counsellor of her husband. For many years after their marriage, she acted as his amanuensis, conducting the principal part of his business correspondence, for Mr. Peel himself was an indifferent and almost unintelligible writer. She died in 1803, only three years after the Baronetcy had been conferred upon her husband. It is said that London fashionable life — so unlike what she had been accustomed to at home — proved injurious to her health ; and old Mr. Yates was afterwards accustomed to say, " if Robert hadn't made our Nelly a ^ Lady,' she might ha' been living yet." The career of Peel, Yates, & Co., was throughout one «of great and uninterrupted prosperity. Sir Robert Peel himself was the soul of the firm ; to great energy and application uniting much practical sagacity, and first-rate mercantile abilities—qualities in which many of the early cotton-spinners were exceedingly deficient. He was a man of iron mind and frame, and toiled unceasingly. In short, he was to cotton-printing what Arkwright was to cotton-spinning, and his success was equally great. The excellence of the articles produced by the firm se¬ cured the command of the market, and the character of tiie firm stood preeminent in Lancashire. Besides greatly benefiting Bury, the partitership planted similar extensive works in the neighborhood, on the Irwell and the Roch, and it was cited to their honor, that, whilst they sought t probably anticipating the opposition he would have to en¬ counter from the profession on making known his discov¬ ery. The tiact in which he at length announced his views, was a most modest one, — but simple, perspicuous, and conclusive. It was nevertheless received with ridi¬ cule, as the utterance of a crack-brained impostor. For some time, he did not make a single convert, and gained nothing but contumely and abuse. He had called in question the revered authority of the ancients ; and it was even averred that his views were calculated to sub¬ vert the authority of the Scnptures and undermine the very foundations of morality and religion. His little practice fell away, and he was left almost without a friend. This lasted for some years, until the great truth held fast by Harvey amidst all his adversity, and which had di'opped into many thoughtful minds, gradually ri¬ pened by further observation, and after a period of about twenty-five years, it became generally recognized as an established scientific truth. The difficulties encountered by Dr. Jenner in promul¬ gating and establishing his discovery of vaccination as a preventive of smallpox, were even greater than those of Harvey. Many, before him, had witnessed the cow- pox, and had heard of the report current among the 116 JENNER AND VACCINATION. Chap. IV. milkmaids in Gloucestershire, that whoever had taken that disease was secure against smallpox. It was a tri¬ fling, vulgar rumor, supposed to have no significance whatever ; and no one had thought it worthy of investi¬ gation, until it was accidentally brought under the notice of Jenner. He was a youth, pursuing his studies at Sod- bury, when his attention was arrested by the casual ob¬ servation made by a country girl who came to his master's ehop for advice. The smallpox was mentioned, when the girl said, " I can't take that disease, for I have had cow-pox." The observation immediately riveted Jen- ner's attention, and he forthwith set about inquiring and making observations on the subject. His professional friends, to whom he mentioned his views as to the pro¬ phylactic virtues of cow-pox, laughed at him, and even threatened to expel him from their society, if he persisted in harassing them with the subject. In London he was so fortunate as to study under John Hunter, to whom he communicated his views. The advice of the great anat¬ omist w^as thoroughly characteristic : " Don't think, but try; be patient, be accurate." Jenner's courage was greatly supported by the advice, which conveyed to him the true art of philosophical investigation. He went back to the country to practise his profession, and care¬ fully to make observations and experiments, which he continued to pursue for a period of twenty years. His faith in his discovery was so implicit that he vaccinated his own son on three several occasions. At length he published his views in a quarto of about seventy pages, in which he gave the details of twenty-three cases of luccessful vaccination of individuals, to whom it was found afterwards impossible to communicate the small¬ pox either by contagion or inoculation. It was in 1798 Chap. IV. JENNER AND VACCINATION. 117 that this treatise was published; though he had been working out his ideas as long before as 1775, when they began to assume a definite form. How was the discovery received ? First with indiffér¬ ence, then with active hostility. He proceeded to Lon¬ don to exhibit to the profession the process of vaccination and its successful results ; but not a single doctor could be got to make a trial of it, and after fruitlessly waiting for nearly three months. Jenner returned to his native village. He was even caricatured and abused for his attempt to "bestialize" his species by the introduction into their systems of diseased matter from the cow's udder. Cobbett was one of his most furious assailants. Vaccination was denounced from the pulpit as "diaboli¬ cal." It was averred that vaccinated children became " ox-faced," that abscesses broke out to " indicate sprout¬ ing horns," and that the countenance was gradually " transmuted into the visage of a cow, the voice into the bellowing of bulls." Vaccination, however, was a truth, and notwithstanding the violence of the opposition, belief in it spread slowly. In one village, where a gentleman tried to introduce the practice, the first persons who per- íñitted themselves to be vaccinated were absolutely pelt- •çd, and were driven into their houses if they appeared Dut of doors. Two ladies of title,— Lady Ducie and the Countess of Berkeley, — to their honor be it remem¬ bered,— had the courage to vaccinate their own chil¬ dren; and the prejudices of the day were at once broken through. The medical profession gradually came round, and there were several who even sought to rob Dr. Jen¬ ner of the merit of the discovery, when its vast impor¬ tance came to be recognized. Jenner's cause at last triumphed, and he was publicly honored and rewarded 118 SIE CHARLES BELL Chap. IV. In his prosperity he was as modest as he had been in his obscurity. He was invited to settle in London, and told that he might command a practice of 10,000/. a year. But his answer was, " No ! In the morning of my days 1 have sought the sequestered and lowly paths of life, — the valley, and not the mountain, — and now, in the evening of my days, it is not meet for me to hold myself up as an object for fortune and for fame." In Jenner's own lifetime the practice of vaccination had been adopted all over the civilized world ; and when he died, his title as a Benefactor of his kind was recognized iar and wide» Cuvier has said, " If vaccine were the only discovery of the epoch, it would serve to render it illustrious forever." Not less patient, resolute, and persevering, was Sir Charles Bell in the prosecution of his discoveries relating to the nervous system. Previous to his time, the most confused notions prevailed as to the functions of the nerves, and this branch of study was little more advanced than it had been in the times of Democritus and Anax- agoras three thousand years before. Sir Charles Bell, in the valuable series of papers the publication of which was commenced in 1821, took an entirely original view of tht; subject, based upon a long series of careful, accurate, and oft-repeated experiments. Elaborately tracing the de¬ velopment of the nervous system up from the lowest order of animated being, to man, — the lord of the animal king¬ dom, -— he displayed it, to use his own words, " as plainly as if it were written in our mother-tongue." His great discovery consisted in the fact, that the spinal nerves are double in their function, and arise by double roots from the spinal marrow, — volition being conveyed by that part of the nerves springing from the one root, and sensa¬ tion by the other. The whole subject occupied the mind Chap. IV. DR. MARSHALL HALL. 1Ï9 of Sir Charles Bell for a period of forty years, when, in 1840, he laid his last paper before the Royal Society. As in the cases of Harvey and Jenner. when he had lived down the ridicule and opposition with which his views were first received, and their truth came to bo recognized, numerous claimants for priority in making the discovery were set up both at home and abroad. Like them, too, he lost practice by the publication of his valuable papers ; and he left it on record that, after every step in his discovery, he was obliged to work harder than ever to preserve his reputation as a practi¬ tioner. The great merits of Sir Charles Bell were, how¬ ever, at length fully recognized; and Cuvier himself, when on his death-bed, finding his face distorted and drawn to one side, pointed it out to his attendants as a proof of the correctness of Sir Charles Bell's theory. The late Dr. Marshall Hall was an equally devoted pursuer of the same branch of science. He was the son of Mr. Robert Hall, of Basford, near Nottingham, to whom the manufacturing industry of this country owes so much, as the inventor of bleaching by chlorine on a large scale, by which a process was accomplished in a few hours that had formerly required as many weeks. It is remarkable that Mr. Hall's neighbors designated the place where he first made his attempt by the name of ^ Bedlam," which it still retains.* To Mr. Hall's second * Baron Liebig, in his "Letters on Chemistry" (3rd ed., p. 28^, says, But for this new bleaching process, it would scarcely have been pos¬ sible for the p.otton manufacture of Great Britain to have attained its present enormous extent; — it could not have competed in prices with France and Germany. In the old process of bleaching, every piece must be exposed to the air during several weeks in the summer, and kept continually moist by manual labor. For this purpose meadow- land, eligibly situated, was essential. Now, a single establishment aear Glasgow bleaches 1400 pieces daily throughout the year. WhaA £20 DR. MARSHALL HALL. Chap. ÎV» son, Samuel, Nottingham owes in a great measure its present commercial prosperity and importance, arising from his inventions of the process of gassing lace, and the bleaching of starch, by which the Nottingham cotton fabrics are scarcely distinguishable from the linen-thread lace of the Continent. Mr. Halfs fourth son was the celebrated physician and physiologist. Dr. Marshall Hall, whose name posterity will rank with those of Harvey, Hunter, Jenner, and Bell. During the whole course of his long and useful life he was a most careful and minute observer; and no fact, however apparently insignificant, escaped his attention. His important discovery of the diastaltic nervous system, by which his name will long be known amongst scientific men, originated in an exceed¬ ingly simple circumstance. When investigating the pneu¬ monic circulation in the Triton, the decapitated object lay upon the table ; and on separating the tail and acciden¬ tally pricking the external integument, he observed that it moved with energy, and became contorted into various forms. He had not touched a muscle nor a muscular nerve ; what then was the nature of these movements ? The same phenomena had probably often before been observed, but Dr. Hall was the first to apply himself perseveringly to the investigation of their causes ; and he exclaimed on the occasion, " I Avill never rest satisfied until I have found all this out, and made it clear." His attention to the subject was almost incessant ; and it is estimated that in the course of his life he devoted not less than 25,000 hours to its experimental and chemical inves¬ tigation ; at the same time he was carrying on an ex¬ tensive private practice, and officiating as a lecturer at an enormous capital would be required to puroiiase land for this pur< pose in England ! " Chap. TV SIR WILLIAM HERSCHEL, — MUSICIAN. 121 St. Thomas's Hospital and other Medical Schools. It will scarcely be credited that the paper in which he em¬ bodied his discovery was rejected by the Royal Society, ^nd was only accepted after the lapse of seventeen years, when the truth of his views had become acknowledged by scientific men both at home and abroad. A charades so manly and beautiful as that of Dr. Marshall Hall, so hopsful and persevering linder difficulties, so truth-loving and sincere in all things, is so profitable a subject for contemplation and study, that we rejoice to learn there is a probability of his memory being shortly embalmed in a biogi^aphy, which we doubt not will be worthy of him. The life of Sir William Hörschel affords another re¬ markable illustration of the force of perseverance in another branch of science. His father was a poor Ger¬ man musician, who brought up his four sons to the same callino;. William came over to England to seek his for- o o tune, and he joined the band of the Durham Militia, in which he played the oboe. The regiment was lying at Doncaster, where Dr. Miller first became acquainted with Hörschel, having heard him perform a solo on the violin in a surprising manner. The Doctor entered into conversation wfith the youth, and was so pleased with him, that he urged him to leave the militia band and take up his residence at his house for a time. Hörschel did so, and whilè at Doncaster was principally occupied in violin-playing at concerts, availing himself of the ad¬ vantages of Dr. Miller's library to study in his leisure hours. A new organ having been built for the parish church of Halifax, an organist was advertised for, on which Hörschel applied for the office, and was selected While officiating as organist and music-teacher at Hali¬ fax, he began to study mathematics, unassisted by any 6 122 SIR WIILIAM HERSCHEL,—ASTRONOMER. Chap. 17 master. Leading the wandering life of an artist, he was next attracted to Bath, where he played in the Pump- room band, and also officiated as organist in the Octagon chapel. Some recent discoveries in astronomy having arrested his mind, and awakened in him a powerful spirífc of curiosity, he sought and obtained irom a friend the loan of a two-foot Gregorian telescope. So fascinated was the poor musician by the science, that he even thought of purchasing a telescope, but the price asked by the London optician was so alarming, that he determined to make one. Those who know what a reflecting tele¬ scope is, and the skill which is required to prepare the concave metallic speculum which forms the most impor¬ tant part of the apparatus, will be able to form some idea of the difficulty of this undertaking. Nevertheless, Herschel succeeded, after long and painful labor, Ji com¬ pleting a five-foot reflector, with which he had the grati¬ fication of observing the ring and satellites of Saturn. Not satisfied with this triumph, he proceeded to make other instruments in succession, of seven, ten, and even twenty feet. In constructing the seven-foot reflector, he finished no fewer than two hundred specula before he produced one that would bear any power that was ap¬ plied to it, — a striking instance of the persevering la- boriousness of the man. While sublimely gauging the heavens with his instruments, he continued patiently to earn his bread by piping to the fashionable frequenters of the Bath Pump-room. So eager was he in his astro- ■aomical observations, that he wculd steal away from the room during an interval of the performance, give a little turn to his telescope, and contentedly return to his oboe. Thus working away, Herschel discovered the Georgiuna Sidus, tire orbit and rate of motion of which he carefully Chap IV. WILLIAM SMITH, THE GEOLOGIST 123 calculated, and sent the result to the Royal Society, when the humble oboe-player found himself at once ele¬ vated from obscurity to fame. He was shortly after appointed Astronomer Royal, and by the kindness of George III. was placed in a position of honorable com¬ petency for life. He bore his honors with the same meekness and humility -which had distinguished him in the days of his obscurity. So gentle and patient, and withal so distinguished and successful a follower of science under difficulties, perhaps does not occur in the whole range of biography. The career of William Smith, the father of English geology, though perhaps less known, is no less interesting and instructive as an example of patient and laborious effort, and the diligent cultivation of opportunities. He was born in 1769, the son of a yeoman farmer at Church¬ ill, in Oxfordshire. His father dying when he was but a child, he received a very sparing education at the vil¬ lage school, and even that was to a considerable extent interfered with by his' wandering and somewhat idle habits as a boy. His mother having married a second time, he was taken in charge by an uncle, also a farmer, by whom he was brought up. Though the uncle was no means pleased with the boy's love of wandering about, œllecting "pound-stones," "pundips," and other stony curiosities which lay scattered about the adjoining land, he yet enabled him to purchase a few of the necessary books wherewith to instruct himself in the rudiments of geometry and surveying ; for the boy was already des¬ tined for the business of a land-surveyor. One of his marked characteristics even as a youth, was the accuracy and keenness of his observation ; and what he once dearly saw he never forgot. He began to draw, at- i24 WILLIAM SMITH THE GEOLOGIST. Chap. IV. tempted to color, and practised himself in the arts of mensuration and surveying, all without regular instruc¬ tion ; and by his own efforts in self-culture, he shortly became so proficient, that he was taken on as assistant t© a local surveyor of some ability, himself self-taught, who was engaged in extensive surveys of the neighborhood. This position introduced William Smith to considerable experience as a surveyor, and in the course of his busi¬ ness he was constantly under the necessity of traversing Oxfordshire and the adjoining counties. One of the first things that he seriously pondered, was the position of the various soils and strata that came under his notice on the lands which he surveyed or travelled over ; more espec¬ ially the position of the red earth in regard to the lias and superincumbent rocks. The surveys of various collieries which he was called upon to conduct in the course of his business in 1792 and 1793, gave him further experience, and even at this early period, when he was only twenty- three years of age, he seems to have contemplated making a model of the strata of the earth. About this time many plans for new canals were on foot, and Mr. Smith, with a keen eye for business, took steps to qualify himself for canal surveying. It was while engaged in levelling for a proposed canal in Gloucestershire, that the idea of a general law occurred to him, relating to the strata of the district. He conceived that the strata lying above the coal were not laid horizon¬ tally, but inclined, and in one direction, towards the east ; resembling on a large scale, " the ordinary appearance of superposed slices of bread and butter." The correctness of this theory he shortly after confirmed by the levelling processes executed by him in two parallel valleys, the strata of " red ground." ^ lias." and " freestone " or " oolite/' Chap. IV. WILLIAM SMITH, THE GEOLOGIST. 12Ö being found to come down in an eastern direction, and to sink below the level, yielding place to the next in succès^» sion. He was shortly after enabled to verify the truth of his views on a larger scale, having been appointed to amine personally into the management of canals in Eng< land and Wales, immediately on the passing of the Canal Bill on which he had been engaged. During his journey, which extended from Bath to Newcastle-on-Tyne, return¬ ing by Shropshire and Wales, his keen eyes were never idle for a moment. He rapidly noted the aspect and structure of the country through which he passed with his companions, treasuring up his observations for future use. His geologic vision was so acute, that though the road along which he passed from York to Newcastle in the postchaise was from five to fifteen miles distant from the hills of chalk and oolite on the east, he was satisfied as to their nature, by their contours and relative position, and their ranges on the surface in relation to the lias and " red ground occasionally seen on the road. The general results of his observation seem to have been these. He noted that the rocky masses of country in the western parts of England generally inclined to the east and southeast ; that the red sandstones and mai Is above the coal-measures passed beneath the lias, clay, and limestone, that these again passed beneath the sands, yel¬ low limestones, and clays, forming the table-land of the Cotteswold Hills, while these in turn passed beneath the great chalk deposits, occupying the eastern parts of Eng¬ land. He further observed that each layer of clay, sand, and limestone, held its own peculiar classes of fossils ; and pondering much on these things, he at length came to the then unheard-of conclusion, that each distinct de posit of marine animals, in these several strata, indicated 126 WILLIAM SMITH, THE GEOLOGIST. Chap. IV a distinct sea-bottom, and that each layer of clay, sand chalk, and stone, marked a distinct epoch of time in the history of the earth. This idea took firm possession of his mind, and he could talk and think of nothing else. At canal boards, at sheep-shearings, at county meetings, and at agricultural associations, " Strata Smith," as he came to be called, was always running over with the subject that possessed him. He had indeed made a great discovery, though he was as yet a man utterly unknown in the scientific world. He now projected the preparation of a map of the stratifica¬ tion * of England ; but he was for the present deterred from proceeding with it, his time being wholly occupied in carrying out the works of the Somersetshire coal ca¬ nal, which engaged him for a period of about six years. He continued, nevertheless, to be unremitting in his ob¬ servation of facts, and he became so expert in appre* bending the internal structure of a district, and detecting the lie of the strata, from its external configuration, that he was often consulted respecting the drainage of exten¬ sive tracts of land, in which, guided by his geological knowledge, he proved remarkably successful, and ac¬ quired an extensive reputation. One day, when looking over the cabinet collection of fossils belonging to the Rev. Samuel Richardson, at Bath, Smith astonished his friend by suddenly disarranging his classification, and rapidly rearranging the fossils in their stratigraphical order, — " These came from the blue lias, these from the overlying sand and freestone, these from the fuUer's-earth, and these from the Bath building stone." A new light flashed upon Mr. Richardson's mind, and he shortly became a convert to, and believer in, William iSmitli's doctrine. But the geologists of that day were not Chap. IV -miíAM SMITH, THE GEOLOGIST. m so e¿isíly convinced ; and it was scarcely to be tolerated that an unknown country land-surveyor should pretend to teach them the science of geology. But William Smith had an eye and mind to penetrate deep beneath the skin of the earth ; he saw its very fibre and skeleton, and as it were divined its organization. His knowledge of the strata in the neighborhood of Bath was so accurate, that one evening, when dining at the house of the Bev. Joseph Townsend, he dictated to Mr. Richardson the different strata according to their order of succession in descend¬ ing order, twenty-three in number, commencing with the chalk and descending in continuous series down to the coal, below which the strata were not then sufficiently determined. To this was added a list of the more re- ¿narkable fossils which had been gathered in the several layers of rock. This was printed and extensively circu¬ lated in 1801. He next determined to trace out the strata through districts as remote from Bath as his means would enable him to reach. For years he journeyed to and fro, some¬ times on foot, sometimes on horseback, riding upon the tops of stage-coaches, often making up by night travelling the time he had lost by day, so as not to fail in his ordi¬ nary business engagements. When he was profession¬ ally called away to any distance from home, — as for instance, when travelling from Bath to Holkham, in Nor¬ folk, to direct the irrigation and drainage of Mr. Coke a (and in that county, — he rode on horseback, making fre¬ quent détours from the road to note the geological fea- 'ures of the country which he traversed. For several years he was thus engaged in his journeys to distant quarters in England and Ireland, to the extent of upwards of ten thousand miles yearly ; and it was amidsl WILLIAM SMITH, THE GEOLOGIST. Chvp. IV. this incessant and laborious travelling, that he contrived to commit to paper his fast-growing generalizations on v/hat he rightly regarded as a new science. No obser¬ vation, howsoever trivial it might appear, was neglected^ and no opportunity of collecting fresh facts was over« looked. Whenever he could, he possessed himself of records of borings, natural and artificial sections, drew them to a constant scale o^ eight yards to the inch, and colored them up. Of his Eeenness of observation take the following illustration. When making one of his geo¬ logical excursions about the country near Woburn as he was drawing near to the foot of the Dunstable chalk hills, he observed to his companion, "If there be any broken ground about the foot of these hills, we may find sharks' teeth ; " and they had not proceeded far, before they picked up six from the white bank of a new fence- ditch. As he afterwards said of himself, "The habit of observation crept on me, gained a settlement in my mind, oecame a constant associate of my life, and started up in activity at the first thoughts of a journey ; so that I gen¬ erally went off well prepared with maps, and sometimes with contemplations on its objects, or on those on the road, reduced to writing before it commenced. My mind was, therefore, like the canvas of a painter, well prepared for the first and best impressions." Notwithstanding his courageous and indefatigable iii" dustry, many circumstances contributed to prevent tho promised publication of William Smith's " Map of tho Strata of England and Wales," and it was not until 1814 that he was enabled, by the assistance of some friends, to give to the world the fruits of his twenty years' incessant labor. To prosecute his inquiries and collect the exten¬ sive series of facts and observations requisite for his pun» C»Ar IV. WILIÍAM SMITH, THE GEOLOGIST. 129 pose, he had to devotfe the profits of all his professional labors -during that period; he even sold off his small property to obtain the means of visiting remote parts of the island. He had also entered on a quiirrjing speculav tion near Bath, which proved unsuccessful, and he was under the necessity of even selling off his valuable geo¬ logical collection (which was purchased by the British Museum), his furniture, and library, reserving only his papers, maps, and sections, which were useless save to himself. He bore his losses and misfortunes with exem¬ plary fortitude ; and amidst all, he went on working with cheerful courage and untiring pátience. The later years of his life were spent in engineering and surveying pur¬ suits in the north of England, acting also as land-steward to Sir J. V. B. Johnstone, of Hackness, near Scarbor¬ ough. He died at Northampton, in August, 1839, while on his Avay to attend the meeting of the British Associa¬ tion at Birmingham. It is difficult to speak in terras of too high praise of the first geological map of England, which we owe to the industry of this courageous man of science. An ac¬ complished writer says of it, " It was a work so masterly in conception and so correct in general outline, that in principle it served as a basis not only for the production of later maps of the British Islands, but for geological maps of all other parts of the world, wherever they have been undertaken. In the apartments of the Geological Society, Smith's map may yet be seen, — a great histori¬ cal document, old and worn, calling for renewal of its faded tints. Let any one conversant with the subject compare it with later works on a similar scale, and he will find that in all essential features it will not suffer by the comparison, — the intricate anatomy of the silurien I ö iiS' 180 HUGH MILLER, THE GEOLOGIST. Chap. vf rocks of Wales and the north of England by Murchison and Sedgwick being the chief additions made to his great generalizations."^ But the genius of the Oxfordshire surveyor did not fail to be duly recognized and honored by men of science during his lifetime. In 1831 the Geological Society of London awarded to him the Wol- laston medal, " in consideration of his being a great orig¬ inal discoverer in English geology, and especially for his being the first in this country to discover and to teach the identification of strata, and to determine their succes¬ sion by means of their embedded fossils." William Smith, in his simple earnest way, gained for himself a name as lasting as the science he loved so well. To use the words of the writer above quoted, " Till the manner as well as the fact of the first appearance ^ of successive forms of life shall be solved, it is not easy to surmise how any discovery can be made in geology equal in value to that which we owe to the genius of William Smith." Hugh Miller was a man of similar calibre, of equally simple tastes and observant faculties, who also success¬ fully devoted himself to geological pursuits. The book in which he has himself told the story of his life, (" My Schools and Schoolmasters,") is extremely interesting, and calculated to be eminently useful. It is the history of the formation of a truly noble and independent char¬ acter in the humblest condition of life, — the condition in which a large mass of the people of this country ar® bom and brought up ; and it teaches all, but especially poor men, what it is in the power of each to accomplish for himself. The life of Hugh Miller is full of lessons of self-help and self-respect, and shows the efiftcacy of these in working out for a man an honorable competence * Saturday Review, July 3d, 1858. CnAr. IV. HUGH MÍLLKR. IHK GEOLOGIST. 131 and a solid reputation. His father waâ drowned at sea when he was but a child, and he was left to be brought up bv his widowed mother. He had a school training after a sort, but his best teachers were the boys with whom he played, the men amongst whom he worked, and the friends and relatives with whom he lived. He read much and miscellaneously, and gleaned pickings oí odd knowledge from many odd quarters, — from work¬ men, carpenters, fishermen, and sailors, old women, and above all, from the old boulders strewed along the shores of the Cromarty Frith. With a big hammer which had be¬ longed to his great-grandfather, an old buccaneer, the boy went about chipping the stones, and thus early accumu¬ lating specimens of mica, porphyry, garnet, and such like. Sometimes he had a day in the woods, and there, too, the boy's attention was excited by the péculiar geological curiosities which lay in his way. While searching among the stones and rocks on the beach, he was sometimes asked in humble irony, by the farm-servants who came to load their carts with sea-weed, whether he " was gettin' siller in the stanes," but was so unlucky as never to be able to answer their question in the affirmative. His uncles were anxious that he should become a minister for it is the ambition of many of the aspiring Scotch poor, to see one of their family " wag his pow in a poopit.'* These kind uncles were even willing to pay his college expenses, though the labor of their hands formed their only wealth. The youth, however, had conscientious objections : he did not feel called to the ministry ; and the uncles, confessing that he was right, gave up their point. Hugh was accordingly apprenticed to the trade of his choice, — that of a working stonemason ; and he began his laboring career in a quarry looking ouL upon 1J2 HUGH MILLER, THE GEOLOGIST. Cha? ÍV Hie Cromarty Fritli. This quarry proved one öf Ms best schools. The remarkable geological formations which it displayed awakened his curiosity. The bar oi deep-red stone beneath, and the bar of pale-red clay aóove, were noted by the young quarryman, who even in such promising subjects found matter for observation and re¬ flection. Where other men saw nothing, he detected analogies, differences, and peculiarities, which set him * a-thinking. He simply kept his eyes and his mind open ; was sober, diligent, and persevering ; and this was tho secret of his intellectual growth. His curiosity was excited and kept alive by the curious organic remains, principally of old and extinct species of fishes, ferns, and ammonites, which lay revealed along the coasts by the washings of the waves, or v/ere ex¬ posed by the stroke of his mason's hammer. He never lost sight of this subject ; went on accumulating observa¬ tions, comparing formations, until at length, when no longer a working mason, many years afterwards, he gave to the world his highly interesting work on the Old Red Sandstone, which at once established his reputation as a scientific geologist. But this work was the fruit of long years of patient observation and research. As he mod¬ estly states in his autobiography, " the only merit to which I lay claim in the case is that of patient research, — a merit in which whoever wills may rival or surpass me ; and tills humble faculty of patience, when rightly deveb oped, may lead to more extraordinary developments of idea than even genius itself." The late John Brown, the eminent English geologist, was, like Miller, a stone-mason in his early life, serving an appremticeship to the trade at Colchester, and afterwards working as a journeyman maKScn at Noi'wich. He after- CIIAP. IV. JOHN BROWN, THE GEOLOGIST wards commenced business as a builder on bis own account at Colchester, where by frugality and industry he secured an independency. It was while working at his trade that his attention was first drawn to the study of fossils and shells ; and he proceeded to make a collection of them, which afterwards grew into one of the finest in England. His researches along the coasts of Essex, Kent, and Sus¬ sex brought to light some magnificent remains of the elephant and rhinoceros^ the most valuable of which were presented by him to the British Museum. During the last few years of his life he devoted considerable attention to the study of the Foraminifera in chalk, respecting which he made several interesting discoveries. His life was use¬ ful, happy, and honored ; and he died at S tan way, in Essex, in November 1859, at the ripe age of eighty years. Sir Roderick Murchison is another illustrious pursuer of the same branch of science. A writer in the " Quar¬ terly Review " cites him as " a singular instance of a man who, having passed the early part of his life as a soldier, never having had the advantage, or disadvantage as the case might have been, of a scientific training, in¬ stead of remaining a fox-hunting country gentleman, has succeeded by his own native vigor and sagacity, untiring industry and zeal, in making for himself a scientific repu¬ tation that is as wide as it is likely to be lasting. He took first of all an unexplored and difficult district at home, and, by the labor of many years, examined its rock-formations, classed them in natural groups, assigned to each its characteristic assemblage of fossils, and was the first to decipher two great chapters in the world's geological history, which must always henceforth carry his name on their title-page. Not only so, but he ap¬ plied the knowledge thus acquired to the dissection of 134: SIR RODERICK MURCHISON. Chap. iv large districts, both at home and abroad, so as to become the geological discoverer of great countries which had formerly been * terrae incognitae.' " But Sir Boderick Murchison is not merely a geologist. His indefatigable labors in many branches of knowledge, have contributed to render him among the most accomplished and complotai of scientiñe men. dur. V, i'üBOE OF IÎ1DÛ3TBY. 13« CHAPTER V woekeks IN ART ** If what shone afar so grand, Turn to nothing in thy hand, On again, the virtue lies In the struggle, not the prize." — R. M. Milnea, Sir Joshua Reynolds was such a believer in the force of industry, that he held that excellence in art, " however expressed by genius, taste, or the gift of heaven, may be acquired." Writing to Barry he said, " Whoever is resolved to excel in painting, or indeed any other art, must bring all his mind to bear upon that one object from the moment that he rises till he goes to bed." And on another occasion he said, " Those who are re¬ solved to excel must go to their work, willing or unwill¬ ing, morning, noon, and night ; they will find it no play, but very hard labor." But although diligent application is no doubt absolutely necessary for the achievement of the highest distinction in art, it is equally true that with¬ out the inherent faculty, no mere amount of industry, however well applied, will make an artist. The gift comes by nature, but is perfected by self-culture, which is of much more avail than the imparted education of the schools. It is indeed remarkable that the most distinguished artists of our own country have not been born in an ar¬ tistic sphere, or in a position of life more than ordinarily IB6 EMINENT AETISTS HARD WORKERS. Cslap. V. favorable to the culture of artistic genius. They have nearly all had to force their way upward in the face of poverty and manifold obstructions. Thus Gainsborough and Bacon were the sons of cloth-workers ; Barry was an Irish sailor-boy, and Maclise a banker's apprentice at Cork ; Opie and Romney, like Inigo Jones, were carpen¬ ters; West was the son of a small Quaker farmer in Pennsylvania; Northcote was a watchmaker; Jackson a tailor, and Etty a printer ; Reynolds, Wilson, and Wilkie, were the sons of clergymen ; Lawrence was the son of a publican, and Turner of a barber. Several of our paint¬ ers, it is true, originally had some connection with art, though in a very humble way, — such as Flaxman, whose father sold plaster casts ; Bird, who ornamented tea-trays; Martin, who was a coach-painter; Wright and Gilpin, who were ship-painters ; Chantrey, who was a carver and gilder ; and David Cox, Stanfield, and Roberts, who were scene-painters. All these men achieved distinction in their several walks under circumstances often of the most adverse kind. It was not by luck nor accident that they rose, but by sheer industry and hard work. Though some achieved wealth, yet this was never their ruling motive. Indeed, no mere love of money could sustain the efforts of the artist in his early career of self-denial and ap¬ plication. The pleasure of the pursuit has always been its best reward ; the wealth which followed but an acci¬ dent. Many noble-minded artists have preferred fol¬ lowing the bent of their genius, to chaffering with the public for terms. Spagnoletto verified in his life the beautiful fiction of Xenophon, and after he had acquired the means of luxury, preferred withdrawing himself from their infiuence, and voluntarily returned to poverty and CHAK V. INDUSTRY OF MICHAEL ANGELO. 137 labor. When Michael Angelo was asked his opinion re- epectiiig a work which a painter had taken great pains to exhibit for profit, he said, " I think that he will be a poor fellow so long as he shows such an extreme eagerness to become rich." Like Sir Joshua Reynolds, Michael Angelo was a great believer in the force of labor ; and he held that there was nothing which the imagination conceived, that could not be embodied in marble, if the hand were made vigorously to obey the mind. He was himself one of the most indefatigable of workers ; and he attributed his power of studying for a greater number of hours than most of his contemporaries, to his spare habits of living. A little bread and wine was all he required for the chief part of the day when employed at his work ; and very frequently he rose in the middle of the night to resume his labors. On these occasions, it was his practice to fix the candle, by the light of which he worked, on the sum¬ mit of a pasteboard cap which he wore. Sometimes he was too wearied to undress, and he slept in his clothes, ready to spring to his work so soon as refreshed by sleep He had a favorite device of an old man in a go-cart, with an hour-glass upon it bearing the inscription, Ancora im paro ! still I am learning. Titian, also, was an indefatigable worker. His cele¬ brated " Pietro Martyre " was eight years in hand, and his " Last Supper " seven. In his letter to Charles V. he said, " I send your Majesty the ^ Last Supper ' after working at it almost daily for seven years — doppo, setU anni lavorandovi quasi continuamente.^^ Few think of the patient labor and long training involved in the great¬ est works of the artist. They seem easy and quickly accomplished, yet with how great difficulty has this ea^ 138 WEST. — RICHARD WILSON. Chap. V. been acquired. " You charge me fifty sequins," said the Venetian nobleman to the sculptor, " for a bust that cost you only ten days' labor." " You forget," said the artist, " that I have been thirty years learning to make that bust in ten days." Once when Domenichino was blamed for his slowness in finishing a picture which was bespoken, he made answer, "I am continually painting it within myself." It was eminently characteristic of the industry of the late Sir Augustus Callcott, that he made not fewer than forty separate sketches in the composition of his famous picture of " Rochester." This constant repetition is one of the main conditions of success in art, as in life itself. Art is indeed a long labor, no matter how amply na¬ ture has bestowed the gift of the artistic faculty. In most cases this has shown itself early ; and illustrations of apparent precocity have been noted in the lives of most great artists. The anecdote related of West is well known. When only seven years old, struck with the beauty of the sleeping infant of his eldest sister whilst watching by its cradle, he ran to seek some paper and forthwith drew its portrait in red and black ink. The little incident revealed the artist in him, and it was found impossible to draw him from his bent. West might have been a greater painter, had he not been injured by too early success ; his fame, though great, was not purchased oy study, trials, and difficulties, and it has not been en¬ during. Richard Wilson, when a mere child, indulged Limself witn tracing figures of men and animals on the walls of his father's house, with a burnt stick. He first directed his attention to portrait-painting; but when in Italy, calling one day at the house of Zucarelli, and grovi ing weary with waiting, he began painting the scene Chap. V. REYNOLDS. — GAINSBOROUGH. — BIRD. 139 on which his friend's chamber-window looked. When Zuea/elli arrived, he was so charmed with the picture, that he asked if Wilson had not studied landscape, to which he replied that he had not. " Then, I advise you,'* said the other, " to try ; for you are sure of great suc¬ cess." Wilson adopted the advice, studied and worked hard, and became our first great English landscape-paint¬ er. Sir Joshua Eeynolds, when a boy, forgot his lessons, and took pleasure only in drawing, for which his father was accustomed to rebuke him. The boy was destined for the profession of physic, but his strong instinct for art could not be repressed, and he became a painter. Gaina- borough went sketching, when a school-boy, in the woods of Sudbury ; and at twelve he was a confirmed artist ; he was a keen observer and a hard worker, — no pictu¬ resque feature of any scene he had once looked upon, escaping his diligent pencil. William Blake, a hosier's son, employed himself in drawing designs on the backs of his father's shopbills and making sketches on the count¬ er. Edward Bird, when a child only three or four years old, would mount a chair and draw figures on the walls, which he called French and English soldiers. A box of colors was purchased for him, and his father, desirous of turning his love of art to account, put him apprentice to a maker of tea-trays ! Out of this trade he gradually raised himself by study and labor, to the rank of a Royal Academician. Hogarth, though a very dull boy at his lessons, took pleasure in making drawings of the letters of the alpha¬ bet, and his school exercises were more remarkable for the ornaments with which he embellished them, than for the matter of the exercises themselves. In the latter respect he was beaten by all the blockheads of the school Î40 HOGARTH'S CLOSE OBSERVATION. Chap. V. but in his adornments he stood alone. His father put hina apprentice to a silversmith, where he learned to draw, and also to engrave spoons and forks with crests and ciphers ; from silver-chasing, he went on to teach himself to engrave on copper, principally griffins and monsters of heraldry; in the course of which practice he became ambitious to delineate the varieties of human character. The singular excellence which he reached in this art, was mainly the result of careful observation and study. lie bad the gift, which he sedulously cultivated, of committing to memory the precise features of any remarkable face, and afterwards reproducing it on paper ; but if any sim gularly fantastic form or outré face came in his way, he wmuld make a sketch of it on the spot, upon his thumb¬ nail, and carry it home to expand at his leisure. Every¬ thing fantastical and original had a powerful attraction for him, and he wandered into many out-of-the-way places for the purpose of meeting with character. By this care¬ ful storing of his mind, he was afterwards enabled to crowd an immense amount of thought and treasured ob¬ servation into his works. Hence it is that Hogarth's pic tures are so truthful a memorial of the characters, the manners, and even the very thoughts of the times in which he lived. True painting, he himself observed, can only be learned in one school, and that is kept by Nature. But he was not a highly cultivated man, except in his own walk. His school education had been of the slender¬ est kind, scarcely even perfecting him in the art of spell¬ ing; his self-culture did the rest. For a long time he was in very straitened circumstances, but, nevertheless, worked on with a cheerñil heart. Poor though he was, he contrived to live within his small means, and he boasted, with becoming pride, that he was "a punctual Chai. V. BANKS AND MULEEADY. 141 paymaster/' When he had conquered all his difficulties and become a famous and thriving man, he loved tc dwell upon his early labors and privations, and to fight over again the battle which ended so honorably to him as a man and so gloriously as an artist. "I remember the time," said he on one occasion, " when I have gone moping into the city with scarce a shilling, but as soon as I have received ten guineas there for a plate, I have returned home, put on my sword, and sallied out with all the confidence of a man who had thousands in his pockets." "Industry and Perseverance" was the motto of the sculptor Banks, which he acted on himself, and strongly recommended to others. His well-known kindness in¬ duced many aspiring youths to call upon him and ask for his advice and assistance ; and it is related that one day a boy called at his door to see him with this object, but the servant, angry at the loud knock he had given, scolded him, and was about sending him away, when Banks over¬ hearing her, himself went out. The little boy stood at the door with some drawings in his hand. " What do you want with me ? " asked the sculptor. " I want, sir, if you please, to be admitted to draw at the Academy." Banks explained that he himself could not procure his admission, but he asked to look at the boy's drawings. Examining them, he said, " Time enough for the Acad¬ emy, my little man ! go home, — mind your schooling,— try to make a better drawing of the Apollo, — and in a month come again and let me see it." The boy went home, — sketched and worked with redoubled diligence, — and, at the end of the month, called again on the sculptor. The drawing was better, but again Banks sent him back, with good advice, to work and study. In a week the boy 142 EARLY STRUGGLES OF NOLLEKENS Chap. V was again at his door ; his drawing much improved -, and Banks bid him be of good cheer, for if spared he would distinguish himself. The boy was Mulready ; and the sculptor's augury was amply fulfilled. Though Nollekens came of a family of artists, hiff father died so young, and he was left so destitute, that it was necessary for him to fight his own way in the world inch by inch. He had not much school education, could read indifferently, and had little knowledge of spelling or grammar ; yet he became a successful, if not- a great, artist. He was taken into the shop of an obscure sculp¬ tor, Sclieemakers, and while laboring late and early at his favorite art, he ran errands during the day, being offen employed, because of his carefulness, to carry pots of porter for his master's maids on washing-days,— " crcîeping slowly along," as he afterwards described, " to save the head of foam, that the lasses might taste it in all its strength." As he grew in knowledge of his art^ he competed for the Society of Arts' prizes, and won them in two successive years. Determined to visit Rome, he journeyed thither in the humblest style possible, and reached the Eternal City with only twenty guineas in his pocket, without a friend. But he set to work with a will ; he first earned ten guineas for a bas-relief carved in stone, and the year following he was voted fifty guineas by the Society of Arts for a marble group. Garrick and Sterne both sat to him for their busts at Rome, which brought him more guineas, and, what was better for him, reputa¬ tion ; and when he returned to London to commence business, he had already accumulated a little store of capital, — for his privations as a youth had early forced him to cultivate the habit of economy. He improved as an artist, and Dr. Johnson, of whom he executed a capital Cha? V. JOHN FLAXMAN, THE BOY. 143 bust, once said of him, "My friend Joe Nollekens can chop out a head with any of them." Yet Nollekens was no genius, for his biographers confess that all which he accomplished came by painful labor and incessant dili¬ gence. John Flaxman was a true genius, — one of the greats est artists England has yet produced. He was besides iSu person of beautiful character, his life furnishing many- salutary lessons for men of all ranks. Flaxman was the son of a humble seller of plaster casts in New Street, Covent Garden ; and when a child, he was so constant an invalid that it was his custom to sit behind the shop counter propped by pillows, amusing himself with draw¬ ing and reading. A benevolent clergyman, named Mat¬ thews, one day calling at the shop, found the boy trying to read a book, and on inquiring what it was, found it was a Cornelius Nepos, which his father had picked up for a few pence at a bookstall. The gentleman, after some conversation with the boy, said that was not the proper book for him to read, but that he would bring him d. right one on the morrow ; and the kind man was as good as his word. The Eev. Mr. Matthews used after¬ wards to say, that from that casual interview with the cripple little invalid behind the plaster-cast seller's shop counter, began an acquaintance which ripened into one of the best friendships of his life. He brought several books to the boy, amongst which were Homer and " Don Quixote," in both of which Flaxman then and ever after took immense delight. His mind was soon full of the heroism which breathed through the pages of the former work, and, with the stucco Ajaxes and Achilleses about him, looming along the shop shelves, the ambition thus early took possession of him, that he too would design 144 JOHN FLAXMAN, THE STUDENT. Chap. ¥. and embody in poetic forms those majestic heroes. His black chalk was at once in his hand, and the enthusiastic boy labored in a divine despair to body forth in visible shapes the actions of the Greeks and Trojans. Like all youthful efforts, his first designs were crude. The proud father one day showed them to Roubilliac, the sculptor, who turned from them with a contemptuous " pshaw ! " But the boy had the right stuff in him ; he had industry and patience ; and he continued to labor in¬ cessantly at his books and drawings. He then tried his young powers in modelling figures in plaster of Paris, wax, and clay ; some of these early works are still pre¬ served, not because of their merit, but because they are curious as the first healthy efforts of patient genius. The boy was long before he could walk, and he only learned to do so by hobbling along upon crutches. Hence he could not accompany his father to see the procession at the coronation of George HI., but he entreated his father to bring him back one of the coronation medals which were to be distributed amongst the crowd. The pressure was too great to enable the father to obtain one in the scramble, but, not to disappoint the little in¬ valid, he obtained a plated button bearing the stamp of a horse and jockey, which he presented to his son as the coronation medal. His practice at this time was to make impressions of all seals and medals that pleased him ; and it was for this that he so much coveted the medal. His physical health improving, the little Flaxman then threw away his crutches. The kind Mr. Matthews in¬ vited him to his house, where his wife explained Homer and Milton to him. They helped him also in his self- culture,— giving him lessons in Greek and Latin, the study of which he prosecuted at home. When unde? Chap. V. FLAXMAN'S FIRST COMMISSION. 145 Mrs. Matthews, he also attempted with his bit of charcoal to embody in outline on paper such passages as struck his fancy. His drawings could not, however, havo been very extraordinary, for when he showed a drawing of an eye which he had made to Mortimer, the artist, that gentleman with affected surprise exclaimed, "Is it an oyster?" The sensitive boy was much hurt, and for a lime took care to avoid showing his drawings to artists, who, though a thin-skinned race, are sometimes disposed to be very savage in their criticisms on others. At length, by dint of perseverance and study, his drawing improved so much that Mrs. Matthews obtained a com¬ mission for him from a lady, to draw six original draw¬ ings in black chalk of subjects in Homer. His first com¬ mission ! A great event that in the boy's life. A sur¬ geon's first fee, a lawyer's first retainer, a legislator's first speech, a singer's first appearance behind the foot-lights, an author's first book, are not any of them more full of interest to the individual than the artist's first commis¬ sion. The boy duly executed the order, and was both well praised and well paid for his work. At fifteen Flaxraan entered a student at the Royai Academy. He might then be seen principally in ths company of Blake and Stothard, young men of kindred lastes and genius, gentle and amiable, yet ardent in their love of art. Notwithstanding his retiring disposition, Flaxman soon became known among the students, and great things were expected of him. Nor were their ex pectations disappointed : in his fifteenth year he gained the silver prize, and next year he became a candidate for the gold one. Everybody prophesied that he would carry off the medal, for there was none who surpassed him in ability and industry. The youth did his best;, and K 7 146 WEDGWOOD AND FLAXMAN. Chap. V In his after-life honestly affirmed that he deserved the prize, but he lost it, and the gold medal was adjudged to Engleheart, who was not afterwards heard of. Thia failure on the part of the youth was really of service to him ; for defeats do not long cast down the resolute- hearted, but only serve to call forth their real powers« Give me time," said he to his father, " and I will yet produce works that the Academy will be proud to recog¬ nize." He redoubled his efforts, spared no pains, designed and modelled incessantly, and consequently made steady if not rapid progress. But meanwhile poverty threatened his father's household; the plaster-cast trade yielded a very bare living ; and young Flaxman, with resolute se¥-denial, curtailed his hours of study, and devoted him¬ self to helping his father in the humble details of his business. He laid aside his Homer to take up the plaster- trowel. He was willing to work in the humblest depart¬ ment of the trade so that his father's family might be supported, and the wolf kept from the door. To this drudgery of his art he served a long apprenticeship: ; but it did him good. It familiarized him with steady work, and cultivated in him the spirit of patience. The disci¬ pline may have been rough, but it was wholesome. Happily, young Flaxman's skill in design had reached the knowledge of Mr. Wedgwood, who sought him out for the purpose of employing him in designing improved patterns of china and earthenware to be produced at his manufactory. It may seem a humble department of ar¿ for Flaxman to have labored in ; but it really was not sa An artist may be laboring truly in his vocation wliile de¬ signing even so common an article as a teapot or a water- jug ; articles which are in daily use amongst the people, and are before their eyes at every meal, may be made Chaí V. FLAXMAN AND WEDGWOOD, i47 the v ehicles of art-education to all and minister to their highest culture. The most ambitious artist may thus confer a greater practical benefit on his countrymen than by executing an elaborate work which he may sell foi thousands of pounds, to be placed in some wealthy man's gallery, where it is hidden away from public sight. Be¬ fore Wedgwood's time the designs which figured upon our china and stoneware were hideous both in drawing and execution, and he determined to improve both. Finding out Flaxman, he said to him : " Well, my lad, I have heard that you are a good draughtsman and clever de¬ signer. I'm a manufacturer of pots, — name Wedgwood. Now, I want you to design some models for me, —noth¬ ing fantastic, but simple, tasteful, and correct in drawing. I'll pay you well. You don't think the work beneath you ? " " By no means, sir," replied Flaxman, indeed, the work is quite to my taste. Give me a few days, — call again, and you will see what I can do." "That's right, — work away. Mind, I am in want of them now. They are for pots of all kinds, — teapots, jugs, teacups and saucers. But especially I want designs for a table- service. Begin with that. I mean to supply one for the royal table. Now, think of that, young man. What you design is meant for the eyes of royalty ! " " I will do my best, sir, I assure you." And the kind gentleman bustlei^ out of the shop as he had come in. Flaxman did his best. By the time that Mr. Wedg wood next called upon him, he had a numerous serie'» of models prepared for various pieces of earthenware They consisted chiefiy of small groups in very low re¬ lief, — the subjects taken from ancient verse and his¬ tory. Many of them are still in existence, and some are tícpiaí in beauty and simplicity to his after-designs fog 148 FLAXMAH AXD WEDGWOOD. Chap. v marble. The celebrated Etruscan vases, inanj of which were to be found in public museums and in the cabinets of the curious, furnished him with the best examples of form, and these he embellished with h s own elegant de¬ vices, " Stuart^s Athens," then recently published, also furnished him with specimens of the purest-shaped Greek utensils, and he was not slow to adopt the best of them, and work them up into new and wondrous shapes of ele¬ gance and beauty. Flaxraan then saw that he was laboring in a great work, — no less than the promotion of popular education ; and he was proud in after-life, to allude to these his early labors, by which he was enabled at the same time to cultivate his love of the beautiful, to diffuse a taste for art among the people, and to replenish his own purse, while he promoted the prosperity of his friend and benefactor. Engaged in such labors as these, for several years Elaxman executed but few works of art, and then at rare intervals. He lived a quiet, secluded, and simple life, working during the day, and sketching and reading in the evenings. He was so poor that he had as yet been only able to find plaster of Paris for his works, — maible was too dear a material for him. He had hitherto ex¬ ecuted onlv one statue in the latter material, and that was a commission. At length, in the year 1782, when twenty-seven years of age, he quitted his father's roof and rented a small bxise and studio in Wardour Street, Soho ; and what was more, he married, — Ann Denman was the name of his wife, — and a cheery, bright-souled, noble woman she was. He believed that in marrying her, he should be able to work with an intenser spirit ; for like him, she had a taste for poetry and art ; and besides was an em Chap. V. FLAXMAN AND HIS WIFE. 149 thusiastic admirer of her husband's genius. Yet when Sir Joshua Reynolds, — himself a bachelor, — met Flax man shortly añer his marriage, he said to him, " So, Flaxman, I am told you are married; if so, sir, I tell you you are ruined for an artist." Flaxman went straight home, sat down beside his wife, took her hand in his, and said, " Ann, I am ruined for an artist." " How so, John ? How has it happened ? and who has done it?" "It happened," he replied, "in the church, and Ann Denman has done it." He then told her of Sir Joshua's remark, — whose opinion was well known, and had often been expressed, that if students would excel they must Dring the whole powers of their mind to bear upon their art, from the moment they rise until they g(? to bed ; and also, that no man could be a great artist un¬ less he studied the grand works of RafPaelle, Michael Angelo, and others, at Rome and Florence. " And I," said Flaxman, drawing up his little figure to its full height, " I would be a great artist." " And a great artist you shall be," said his wife, " and visit Rome too, if that be really necessary to make you great." "But how?" asked Flaxman. " Work and economize^* rejoined the brave wife ; " I will never have it said that Ann Denman ruined John Flaxman for an artist." And so it was de¬ termined by the pair that the journey to Rome was to be made when their means would admit. " I will go to Rome," said Flaxman, "and show the President that Wedlock is for a man's good rather than his harm ; and you, Ann, shall accompany me." Patiently and happily this affectionate couple plodded on during five years in that humble little home in War- dour Street ; always with the long journey to Rome before them. It was never lost sight of for a moment, and not a 150 FLAXMAN AT ROME. Chap. V penny was uselessly spent that could be saved towards the necessary expenses. They said no word to any one about their project ; solicited no aid from the Academy ; but trusted only to their own patient labor and lovoj to pursue and achieve their object. During this time Flaxman ex¬ hibited very few works. He could not afford marble to experiment in original designs ; but he obtained frequent commissions for monuments, by the profits of which he maintained himself. He still worked for the Messrs. Wedgwood, who proved good paymasters ; and, on the whole, he was thriving, happy, and hopeful. He was not a little respected by his neighbors, and those who knew him greatly estimated his sincerity, his honesty, and his unostentatious piety. His local respectability was even such as to bring local honors and local work upon him ; so much so that he was on one occasion selected by the rate-payers to collect the watch-rate for the parish of St. Anne, when he might be seen going about with an ink-bottle suspended from his buttonhole, collecting the money. At length Flaxman and his wife, having thriftily accu¬ mulated a sufiicient store of savings, set out for Rome. Ai;rived there, he applied himself diligently to study, main¬ taining himself, like other poor artists, by making copies from the antique. English visitors sought his studio and gave him commissions ; and it was then that he composed his beautiful designs, illustrative of Homer, ^schylus, and Dante. The price paid for them was moderate, — only fifteen shillings apiece; but Flaxman worked for art as well as money ; and the beauty of the designs brought him new friends and patrons. He exe¬ cuted Cupid and Aurora for the munificent Thomas Hope, and the Fury of Athamas foi the Earl of Bristol 0HAP. V THE BOÎAL ACADEMY. 15Î He tLen prepared to return to England, his taste im» proved and cultivated by careful study; but before he left Italy, the Academies of Florence and Carrara recog¬ nized his merit by electing him a member. His fame had preceded him to England, and he soon found abundant lucrative employment. While at Home, he had been commissioned to execute his famous monu¬ ment in memory of Lord Mansfield, and it was erected in the north transept of Westminster Abbey shortly after his return. It stands there in majestic grandeur, a monu¬ ment to the genius of Flaxman himself, — calm, simple, and severe. No wonder that Banks, the sculptor, then in the heyday of his fame, exclaimed when he saw it, " This little man cuts us all out ! " When the bigwigs of the Boyal Academy heard of Flaxman's return, and especially when they had an op¬ portunity of seeing and admiring his noble portrait-statue of Mansfield, they were eager to have him enrolled among their number. The Boyal Academy has always had the art of running to the help of the strong ; and when an artist has proved that he can achieve a repu¬ tation without the Academy, then is the Academy most willing to " patronize him. He allowed his name to be proposed in the candidates' list of associates, and was immediately elected. His progress was now rapid, and he was constantly employed. Perseverance and siudy, which had matured his genius, had made him great, and he went on from triumph to triumph. But he appeared in yet a new character. The little boy who had begun his studies behind the poor plaster- cast seller's shop-counter in New Street, Co vent Gar¬ den, was now a man of high intellect and recognized supremacy in art, to instruct aspiring students, in the 152 FLAXMAN'S MONUMENTS. Chap. v. character of Professor of Sculpture to the Royal Acade- inj Î And no man better deserved to fill that distin-» guislied office ; for none is so able to instruct others as he who, for himself and by his own almost unaided efforts, has learned to grapple with, and overcome difficulties. The caustic Fuseli used to talk of the lectures as "sermons by the Reverend John Flaxman ; for the sculptor was a religious man, which Fuseli was not. But Flaxman ac¬ quitted himself well in the professorial chair, as any one who reads his instructive " Lectures on Sculpture," now published, may ascertain for himself. Flaxman's monuments are known nearly all over Eng¬ land. Their mute poetry beautifies most of our cathe¬ drals, and many of our rural churches. Whatever work of this kind he executed, he threw a soul and meaning into it, embodying some high Christian idea of charity, of love, of resignation, of affection, or of kindness. In monuments such as these his peculiar genius preemi¬ nently shone. There is a tenderness and grace about them which no other artist has been able to surpass, or even to equal. His rapid sketches illustrative of th^ Lord's Prayer, published in lithograph some years ago, ex hibit this peculiar quality of his genius in a striking light. In historical monuments, again, he was less successful, though his monuments to Reynolds and Nelson, in St. Paul's Cathedral, are noble works, which will always be admired. After a long, peaceful, and happy life, Flaxman found himself growing old. The loss which he sustained by the death of his affectionate wife Ann, was a severe shock to him ; but he survived her several years, during which he executed his celebrated " Shield of Achilles " and his noble " Archangel Michael vaníjuishing Sataa, — perhaps his two greatest works. Chap. V. FRANCIS CHANTRES, — CARVER. 153 Chan trey was a more robust man, — eveiy inch »f him English. He was somewhat rough, but hearty in hig demeanor ; proud of his successful struggle with the difficulties which beset him in early life ; and, above all, proud of his independence. He was born a poor man's child, at Norton, near Sheffield. His father dying when he was a mere boy, his mother married again. Young Chantrey used to drive an ass laden with milk-cans acîross its back into the neighboring town of Sheffield and there serve his mother's customers with milk. Such was the humble beginning of his industrial career ; and it was by his own strength that he rose from that posi¬ tion, and achieved the highest eminence as an artist. Not taking kindly to his step-father, the boy was sent to trade, and was first placed with a grocer in Sheffield. The business was very distasteful to him ; but, passing a carver's shop-window one day, his eye was attracted by the glittering articles it contained, and, charmed with the idea of being a carver, he begged to be released from the gi-ocery business with this object. His friends con^ sented, and he was bound apprentice to a carver and gilder for seven years. His new master, besides being a carver in wood, was also a dealer in prints and plaster models ; and Chantrey at once set about imitating both, studying with great industry and energy. All his spare hours were devoted to drawing, modelling, and self-im¬ provement, often working far into the night. Before his apprenticeship was out, — at the age of twenty-one, — he paid over to his master the whole wealth which he was able to muster, — a sum of 50Z., — to cancel his in¬ dentures, determined to devote himself to the career of an artist. He then made the best of his way to Loir don, and, with characteristic good sense, sought employ 7 # 154 FBANCIS CHANTREY, - SCULPTOR, Chap. v» menc as an assistant carver, studying painting and model¬ ling at his by-hours. Amongst the jobs on which he was at that time employed as a journeyman carver, was the decoration of the dining-room of Mr. Kogers, the poet, — a room in which he was in after-life a welcome visitor ; and he usually took pleasure in pointing out his early handiwork to the guests whom he met at his friend's table. Eeturiiing to Sheffield on a professional visit he adver¬ tised himself in the local papers as a painter of portraits in crayons and miniatures, and also in oil. For his first portrait he was paid a well-earned guinea by a cutler ; and fc a, portrait in oil, a confectioner paid him as much as bl. and a pair of top boots ! Chantrey was soon in London again, to study at the Royal Academy ; and next time he returned to Sheffield, he advertised himself as ready to model plaster busts of his townsmen, as well as to paint portraits of them. He was even selected to de¬ sign a monument to a deceased vicar of the town, and executed it to general satisfaction. When in London he used a room over a stable as a studio, and there he modelled his first original work for exhibition. It was a gigantic head of Satan. Towards the close of Chantrey'a life, a friend passing through his studio was struck by this model lying in a corner. " That head," said the sculptor, "was the first thing that I did after I came to London. I worked at it in a garret, with a paper cap on my head and as I could then afford only one candle, I stuck that one in my cap that it might move along with me, and give me light whichever way I turned." Flaxman saw and admired this head at the Academy Exhibition, and recommended Chantrey for the execution of the busts of four admirals, required for the Naval Asylum at Greenr Chap. V. FRANCIS CHANTREY, — SCULPTOR. 155 wich. This commission led to others, and painting was given up. But for eight years before, he had not earned 5/. by his modelling. His famous head of Home Tooke was such a success that, according to his own accoiint, it brought him commissions amounting to 12,000/. Chantrey had now succeeded, but he had worked hard, and thoroughly earn?,d his fortune. He was selected from amongst sixteen competitors to execute the statue of George HI. for the city of London. A few years later, he produced the exquisite monument of the Sleep¬ ing Children, now in Lichfield Cathedral, — a work not to be surpassed for tenderness of sentiment and poetic beauty ; and thenceforward his career was one of increas¬ ing honor, fame, and prosperity. His patience,-industry, and steady perseverance were the means by which he achieved his greatness. Nature endowed him with gen¬ ius, and his sound sense enabled him to employ the pre¬ cious gift as a blessing. He was prudent and shrewd, like the men amongst whom he was born ; the pocket- book which accompanied him on his Italian tour contain¬ ing mingled notes on art, records of daily expenses, and the current prices of marble. His tastes were simple, and he made his finest subjects great by the mere force of simplicity. His statue of Watt, in Hands worth Church, S3ems to «S the very consummation of art ; yet it is per¬ fectly artless and simple. His generosity to brother ar¬ tists in need was splendid, but quiet and unostentatious. In a word, Chantrey was a national sculptor ; and the character and career of the man were such as to make Englishmen justly proud of him. The fortune which he amassed during his life of hard work he bequeathed to the Eoyal Academy for the promotion of Briti»b art 156 DAVID WILKIE. Chap. V The same htmest and persistent industry was through out distinctive of the career of David Wilkie. The soii of a poor Scotch minister, he gave early indications of an artistic turn ; and though he was a negligent and inapt scholar, he was a sedulous drawer of faces and figures. A silent boy, he already displayed that quiet, concentrated energy of character which distinguished him through life. He was always on the look-out for an opportunity to draw, — and the walls of the manse, or the smooth sand by the river side, came alike convenient for his purpose. Any sort of tool would serve him ; like Giotto, he found a pencil in a burnt stick, a prepared canvas in any smooth stone, and the subject for a picture in every rag¬ ged mendicant he met. When he visited a house, be generally left his mark on the walls as an indication of his presence, sometimes to the disgust of cleanly house¬ wives. In short, notwithstanding the aversion of his father, the minister, to the " sinful " profession of paint¬ ing, Wilkie's strong propensity was not to be thwarted, and he became an artist ; working his way manfully up the steep of difficulty. Though rejected on his first ap¬ plication as a candidate for admission to the Scottish Academy, at Edinburgh, on account of the rudeness and inaccuracy of his introductory specimens, he persevered in producing better, until he was admitted. But his progress was slow. He applied himself diligently to the drawing of the human figure, and held on with the de¬ termination to succeed, as if with a resolute confidence in the result. He displayed none of the eccentric hu¬ mor and fitful application of many youths who conceive themselves geniuses, but kept up the routine of steady application to such an extent that he himself was after- wards accustomed to attribute his success to h^'s dogged Chap. V. DAVID WILKIE. 157 perseverance rather than to any higher innate power» " The single element," he said, " in all the progressive movements of my pencil, was persevering industry/' At Edinburgh he gained a few premiums, thought of turn¬ ing his attention to portrait-painting, with a view to its iiigher and more certain remuneration, but eventually went boldly into the line in which he earned his fame, — and painted his Pitlessie Fair. What was bolder still, he determined to proceed to London, on account of its presenting so much wider a field for study and work ; and the poor Scotch lad arrived in town, and painted his Village Politicians while living in a humble lodging on eighteen shillings a week. Notwithstanding the success of this picture, and the commissions which followed it, Wilkie long continued poor. The prices which his works realized were not great, for he bestowed upon them so much time and labor, that his earnings continued comparative ly small for many years. Every picture was carefully studied and elaborated beforehand ; nothing was struck off at a heat ; many occupied him for years, — touching, retouch¬ ing, and improving them, until they finally passed out of his hands. As with Reynolds, his motto was "Work! work ! work I " and, like him, he expressed great dislike for talking artists. Talkers may sow, but the silent reap. "Let us be doing something," was his oblique mode of rebuking the loquacious and admonishing the idle. Among such was his friend Haydon, wdio was always talking so big about high art, but doing so little to advance it. Haydon, perhaps, had more of what is called " genius " than Wilkie, but he had no persistency, — no work in him. He who does not end speechifying does not begin doing. While the silent Wilkie was i58 -CAREER OF HAYDON. Chap. y working and advancing, poor noisy Haydon's jntliusi asm for high art mostly ended in declamation. What Haydon did. attempt with his dropsical muscle figuresj usually proved beyond his grasp, and he failed; while Wilkie did his best within his powers, and succeeded» The one, fitful and irregular in his habits, aimed at an unattainable ideal ; the other, sedulously cultivating his peculiar and original talent, aimed steadily at the suc¬ cess which was within his reach, and secured it. Hay- don's career was a warning and example to the gifted. He was one of a numerous class who are ready to cry out without sufficient reason against the blindness and ingratitude of the world. But, as in most of such cases, Haydon's worst enemy was himself. Half the time spent in working that he spent in complaining, would have gone far towards making him the great man that he aimed to be. While he went on holding himself forth as a persecuted genius, Wilkie, with the simplicity that belongs to true genius, made no claim whatever, but worked hard and did his best, and the world did not fail to recognize his merits. Nor did Flaxman, Reynolds, or Chantrey, expend their eloquence in bemoaning their lot, but vigorously exerted themselves to deserve the support and encouragement which they received. Haydon was fonder of seeing himself in print than of steady work; and hence he never reached the ambition of his life. Unlike honest Barry, who, like Haydon, was constantly running his head against stone walls, he sponged upon his friends for the money that he would not earn. For many years of his life he lived upon borrowed money. He drew supplies from his poor, worn-out father as long as he could ; and when that source failed, he sent beg* ging-letters about among the patrons of " high art." His Chap. V TUENER'S INDUSTRY 159 life, indeed, illustrated the truth of the saying, that ^^an empty bag cannot stand upright." Though his views of art were lofty, his ideas of life were low. He talked eloquently, but acted meanly ; and though he boasted of his independence, he yet lived in daily and hourly humiliation. Turner, the greatest of our landscape-painters, was a man of an entirely different character. He was intended by his father for his own trade of a barber, which he car¬ ried on in Maiden Lane, until one day the sketch which the boy had made of a coat of arms on a silver salver having attracted the notice of a customer, whom his father was shaving, he was urged to allow his son to fol¬ low his biás, and he was eventually permitted to follow art as a profession. He learned his first rudiments with Maltón, who had at the same time under him another pupil, Ihomas Girtin, whose genius was akin to Tur¬ ner's, and kept alive in him that ardent spirit of emulation and industry which never ceased to be his distinguishing characteristic, even after he had attained the summit of his fame. Girtin and Turner, though essentially un¬ like in character and disposition, were warmly attached friends, and when poor Girtin died, full of promise, un¬ der thirty, he had no more affectionate mourner than his fellow-pupil and competitor. Like all young artists, Turner had many difficulties to encounter, and they were all the greater that Turner's circumstances were teo straitened. But he was alw^ays willing to work, and to take pains with his work, no matter howsoever hum¬ ble it might be. He was glad to hire himself out at half a crown a night to wash in skies in Indian ink apon other people's drawings, getting his supper into the bargain. Thus he earned money and acquired ex PRIVATIONS ENDURED BY ARTISTS. Chap. V pertness. Then he took to illustrating guide-books, almanacs, and any sort of books that wanted cheap frontispieces. " What could I have done better ? " said he afterwards ; " it was first-rate practice." He did everything carefully and conscientiously, never slurring over his work because he was ill-remunerated for it. He aimed at learning as well as living ; always doing his best, and never leaving a drawing without having made a step in advance upon his previous work. A man who thus labored was sure to do much ; and his advance in power and grasp of thought was, to use Rus- kin's words, " as steady as the increasing light of sun¬ rise." But Turner's genius needs no panegyric ; his best monument is the great works bequeathed by him to the nation, which will ever be the most lasting memorial of his fame. Many artists have had to encounter privations which have tried their courage and endurance to the utmost before they succeeded. What number may have sunic undf^r them we can never know. Martin encountered difficulties in the course of his career, such as perhaps fall to the lot of few. More than once he found himself on the verge of starvation whilst engaged on his first great picture. It is related of him that on one occasion he found himself reduced to his last shilling, — a bright shilling;— which he had kept because of its very bright¬ ness, but at length he found it necessary to exchange it for bread. He went to a baker's shop, bought a loaf^ and was taking it away, when the baker snatched it from him, and tossed back the shilling to the starving painter. The bright shilling had failed him in his hour of need, it was a bad one ! Returning to his lodgings, he rum¬ maged his trunk for some remaining crust to satisfy hi? Chai». V. MARTIN. ~ PUGIN. 16i hunger. Upheld throughout by the victorious power of enthusiasm, he pursued his design with unsubdued en¬ ergy. He had the courage to work on and to wait ; and when, a few days after, he found an opportunity to ex¬ hibit his picture, he was from that time famous. Like many other great artists, his life proves that, in despite of outward circumstances, genius, aided by industry, will be its own protector, and that fame, though she comes late, will never ultimately refuse her favors to real merit. The most careful discipline and training after aca¬ demic methods will fail in making an artist, unless he himself take an active part in the work. Like every highly cultivated man, he must be mainly self-educated. When Pugin, who was brought up in his father's office, had learned all that he could learn of architecture ac¬ cording to the usual formulas, he still found that he had learned but little ; and that he must begin at the begin¬ ning, and pass through the discipline of labor. Young Pugin accordingly hired himself out as a common car¬ penter at Co vent Garden Theatre,— first working un¬ der the stage, then behind the flies, then upon the stage itself. He thus acquired a familiarity with work, and cultivated an architectural taste, to which the diversity of the mechanical employment about a large operatic establishment is peculiarly favorable. When the tlieatre closed for the season, he worked a sailing-sLip between London and some of the French ports, carrying on at the same time a profitable trade. At every opportunity he would land and make drawings of any old building, and eapecially of any ecclesiastical structure which fell in his way. Afterwards he would make special journeys to the Continent for the same purpose, and returned L GEOKGE KEMP. Chap V home laden with drawings. Thus he plodded and la¬ bored on, making sure of the distinction and excellenca which he eventually achieved. A similar illustration of plodding industry in the same walk is presented in the career of George Kemp, the architect of the beautiful Scott Monument at Edinburgh. He was the son of a poor shepherd, who pursued his call¬ ing on the southern slope of the Pentland Hills. Amidst that pastoral solitude the boy had no oppertunity of en- loying the contemplation of beautiful works of art. It happened, however, that in his tenth year he was sent on a message to Roslin, by the farmer for whom his father ûerded sheep, and the sight of the beautiful castle and chapel there seems to have made a vivid and enduring impression on his mind. Probably to enable him to in¬ dulge his love of architectural construction, the boy be¬ sought his father to let him be a joiner ; and he was accordingly put apprentice to a neighboring village car¬ penter. Having served his time, he went to Galashiels to seek work, doing the journey on foot. As he was plod¬ ding along the valley of the Tweed with his tools upon his back, a carriage overtook him near Elibank Tower ; and the coachman, doubtless at the suggestion of his master, who rode alone inside, having asked the youth how far he had to walk, and learning that he was on his way to Gala¬ shiels, invited him to mount the box beside him, and thus to ride thither. It turned out that the kindly gentleman inside was no othei than Sir Walter Scott, then travelling on his official duty as Sheriff of Selkirkshire. Whilst working at his trade at Galashiels, Kemp had frequent opportunities of visiting Melrose, Dry burgh, and Jed¬ burgh Abbeys, and studying them carefully. Inspired by his love of architecture, he next Woi'ked his way, aá a Chap. T. GEORGE KEMP. 163 earpentei'j over tlie greater part oí the north of Englandj never omitting an opportunity of inspecting and making sketches of any fine Gothic building. On one occasion, when working at his trade in Lancashire, he walked fifty miles to York, spent a week in carefully examining the Minster, and returned in like manner on foot. We next find him in Glasgow, where he remained four years, study¬ ing the fine cathedral there during his spare time. He returned to England again, this time working his way further south ; studying Canterbury, Winchester, Tintern, and other well-known structures. In J.824 he formed the design of travelling over Europe with the same object supporting himself by his trade. He commenced at Boulogne, and from thence proceeded by Abbeville and Beauvais to Paris, spending a few weeks, making draw¬ ings and studies, in each place. His skill as a mechanic, and especially his knowledge of mill-work, readily secured him employment wherever he went; and he was thus_ enabled to choose his site of employment, which was in¬ variably in the neighborhood of some fine old Gothic structure, in studying which he occupied his leisure hours After a year's working, travel, and study abroad, he waf abruptly summoned home by family afiairs, and returned to Scotland. He continued his studies, and became a pro ficient in drawing and perspective : Melrose was his favor ite ruin ; and he produced several elaborate drawings of the building, one of which, exhibiting it in a " restored " state, was afterwards engraved. He also obtained some em[)loyment as a modeller of architectural designs ; and afterwards made drawings for a work commenced by an Edinburgh engraver, after the plan of Britton's " Cathedral Antiquities." This was a task most congenial to his tastes, and he labored at it with an enthusiasm which ensured its 164 JOHK GIBSON. Chap. V rapid advance ; walking on foot for this purpose over hall Scotland, and living as an ordinary mechanic, whilst exe¬ cuting drawings which would have done credit to the greatest masters in the art. The projector of the work having died suddenly, its publication was interfered with, and Kemp sought other employment. Few knew of the genius of this man, — for he was exceedingly taciturn and habitually modest, — when the Committee of the Scott Monument offered a prize for the best design. The com¬ petitors were numerous, — including some of the greatest names in classical architecture; but the design unani¬ mously selected was that of George Kemp, then working at Kilwinning Abbey, in Ayrshire, many miles off, when the letter reached him intimating the decision of the com¬ mittee. Poor Kemp Î Shortly after this event he met an untimely death, and did not live to see the first re¬ sult of his indefatigable industry and self-culture em bodied in stone, — one of the most beautiful and appro- pi iate memorials ever erected to literary genius. Among living artists, who have honorably fought their way upwards from poverty to fame, we may mention John Gibson,—a man full of a genuine enthusiasm and love of his art, which place him high above those sordid temptations which urge meaner natures to make time the measure of profit. He was born at Gyfifn, near Conway, in North Wales, — the son of a gardener. He eai-ly showed indications of his talent by the carvings in wood which he made by means of a common pocket knife ; and his father, noting the direction of his talent and wisely improving the circumstance, sent him to Liverpool, and bound the boy apprentice to a cabinet-maker and wood* carver. He rapidly improved at his trade, and some of his carvings were much admired. He was naturally Chap. V. ROBERT TIIORBÜRN. 165 led onwards ro sculpture, and when eighteen years of age, he modelled a small figure of Time in wax, which attracted considerable notice. The Messrs. Franceys, sculptors, of Liverpool, purchased the boy's indentures, and took him as their apprentice for six years, during which his remarkable genius displayed itself in many pure and original works. From thence he proceeded to London, and afterwards to Rome ; and his fame is now European. Robert Thorburn, another Royal Academician, like John Gibson, was born of poor parents. His father was a shoemaker in a very humble way of business, in the town of Dumfries, in Scotland. Besides Robert there were two other sons ; one of whom is still noted in his native town as a skilful carver in wood. One day a lady called at the shoemaker's, and found Robert, then a mere boy, engaged in drawing upon a stool which served him for a table. She examined his work, and finding that he had abilities in this direction, interested herself in ob¬ taining for him some occupation in drawing, and enlisted in his behalf the services of others who could assist him in prosecuting the study of art. The boy was very dili¬ gent, painstaking, staid, and silent, mixing little with his companions, and forming but few intimacies. About the year 1830, some gentlemen of the town provided Thor¬ burn with the means of proceeding to Edinburgh, where he was admitted student of the Scottish Academy. There he had the advantage of studying under competent mas¬ ters, and the progress which he made was rapid and de¬ cided. After residing in Edinburgh for some years, he removed to London, where, we understand, he had the advantage of being introduced to notice under the patron age of the Duke of Buccleuch. We need scarcely say, 166 NOEL PATON. — SHARPLES. Chap. V. however, lliat whatever use patronage may have been to Thorburn in giving him an introduction to the best cir¬ cles, patronage of no kind could have made him the great artist that he unquestionably is, .without native genius and diligent application. Noel Paton, another well-known painter, began his artistic career at Dunfermline and Paisley, as a drawer of patterns for tablecloths and muslin embroidered by hand ; meanwhile working diligently at higher artistic studies, including the human figure. lie was, like Turner, ready to turn his hand to any kind of work, and in 1840, when a mere youth, we find him engaged, among his other labors, in illustrating the " Renfrewshire Annual." He worked his way step by step, slowly, yet surely ; but he remained unknown until the exhibition of the prize cartoons painted for the Houses of Parliament, when his picture of the Spirit of Religion (for which he ob- / tained one of the first prizes) revealed him to the world as a genuine artist ; and the works which he has since exhibited, — such as the " Reconciliation of Oberon and Titania," " Home," and " The bluidy Tryste," — have shown a steady advance in artistic power and cul¬ ture. But perhaps the most striking exemplification of pei- severance and industry in the cultivation of art is found in the career of James Sharpies, the working blacksmith of Blackburn. He was born at Wakefield in Yorkshire, hi 1825, one of a family of thirteen children. His father was a working ironfounder, and removed to Bury to fol¬ low his business, while his family were still young. The boys received no school education, but were all sent to work as soon as they were able ; and at about ten James Chap V. JAMES SHARPLES, — SMITHl BOY. 167 was placed in the foundry of the Messrs. Lees, Cousins and Diggles, where he was employed for about two years as a smithy-boy. After that he was sent into the engine- shop of the Messrs. Clarkson and Kay, where his father worked as an engine-smith. The boy's employment was to heat and carry rivets for the boiler-makers. Though his hours of labor were very long—often from six in the morn¬ ing until eight at night — his father contrived to give him some little teaching after work hours ; and it was thus that he partially learned his letters. An incident occurred in the course of his employment among the boiler-makers, which first awakened in him the desire to learn drawing. He had occasionally been employed by the foreman to hold the chalked line with which he made the designs of boilers upon the floor of the workshop ; and on such occa¬ sions the foreman was accustomed to hold the line, and direct the boy to make the necessary dimensions. James soon became so expert at this as to be of considerable ser¬ vice to the foreman ; and at his leisure hours at home his great delight was to practise drawing designs of boilers upon his mother's floor. On one occasion, when his mother's aunt was expected from Manchester to pay the family a visit, and the house had been made as decent as possible for her reception, the boy, on coming in from the foundry in the evening, immediately gan his usual oper¬ ations upon the floor. He had proprentice to a grocer, and n^HAP. Vï. CAREER OF LORD ELDON. 197 afterwards had almost made up his mind to bring him up to his own trade of a coal-fitter. But by this time his eldest son William (afterwards Lord Stowell) who had gained a scholarship at Oxford, wrote to his father, Send Jack up to me, I can do better for him." Johp was sent up to Oxford accordingly, where, by his broth* er's influence and his own application, he succeeded in obtaining a fellowship. But when at home during the vacation, he was so unfortunate, — or rather so fortunate, as the issue proved, — as to fall in love ; and running across the Border with his eloped bride, he married, and, as his friends thought, ruined himself for life. He had neither house nor home when he married, and had not yet earned a penny. He lost his fellowship, and at the same time shut himself out from preferment in the Church, for which he had been destined. He accord¬ ingly turned his attention to the study of the law. To a friend he wrote, " I have married rashly ; but it is my de¬ termination to work hard to provide for the woman I love." John Scott came up to London, and took a small house in Cursitor Lane, where he settled down to the study of the law. He worked with great diligence and resolu¬ tion; rising at four every morning, and studying till late at night, binding a wet towel round his head to keep himself awake. Too poor to study under a si)e- eial pleader, he copied out three folio volumes from a manuscript collection of precedents. Long after, when Lord Chancellor, passing down Cursitor Lane one day, he said to his secretary, " Here was my first perch ; many a time do I recollect coming down this street with sixpence in my hand to buy sprats for supper." When at length called to the bar, he waited long for employ¬ ment. His first year's earnings amounted lo only nins 198 CAREER OF LORD ELDON. Chaf. VI. shillings. For four years he assiduously attended the London courts and the Northern Circuit, with b'ttle bet¬ ter success. Even in his native town, he seldom had other than pauper cases to defend. The results w^ere indeed so discouraging, that he had almost determined to relinquish his chance of London business, and settlo down in some provincial town as a country barrister. His brother William wrote home, " Business is dull with poor Jack, very dull indeed ! " But as he had es¬ caped being a grocer, a coal-fitter, and a country parson, so did he also escape being a country lawyer. An opportunity at length occurred, which enabled John Scott to exhibit the large legal knowledge which he had so laboriously acquired. In a case in which he was employed, he urged a legal point against the wishes both of the attorney and client who employed him. The Master of the Bolls decided against him, but on an ap¬ peal to the House of Lords, Lord Thurlow reversed the decision on the very point that Scott had urged. On leaving the House that day, a solicitor tapped him on the shoulder and said, " Young man, your bread-and- butter's cut for life." And the prophecy proved a faith¬ ful one. Lord Mansfield used to say that he knew no interval between no business and 3,000Z. a year, and Scott might have told the same story ; for so rapid was his progress, that in 1783, when only thirty-two, he was appointed King's Counsel, was at the head of the North¬ ern Circuit, and sat in Parliament for the borough of Weobley. It was in the dull but unflinching drudgery of the early part of his career that he laid the foundation of his future success. He won his spurs by perseverance, knowledge, and ability, diligently cultivated ; he was suc¬ cessively appointed to the offices of solicitor and atfrjr Chap. VÏ. LORD LANGDALE. 199 nej-general, and rose steadily upwards to the highest oiTice that the Crown had to bestow, — that of Lord Cliancellor of England, which he held for a quarter of a century. Henry Bickersteth was the son of a surgeon at Kirkby Lonsdale, in Westmoreland, and was himself educated ta that profession. As a student at Edinburgh, he distin¬ guished himself by the steadiness with which he worked, and the application which he devoted to the science of medicine. Returned to Kirkby Lonsdale, he took an active part in his father's practice ; but he had no liking for the profession, and grew discontented with the ol>- scurity of a country town. He went on, nevertheless diligently improving himself, and engaged in specula¬ tions in the higher branches of physiology. In con«^ formity with his own wish, his father consented to send him to Cambridge, where it was his ambition to take a medical degree, with the view of practising in the me¬ tropolis. Close application to his studies threw him out of health, however, and with a view to reëstablishing his strength he accepted the appointment of travelling physician to Lord Oxford. While abroad he mUvStered Italian, and acquired a great admiration for Italian lit¬ erature, but no greater liking for medicine than before. On the contrary he determined to abandon it ; but le- turning to Cambridge, he took his degree, and that he worked hard may be inferred from the fact that Le was senior wrangler of his year. Disappointed in his desire to enter the army, he turned to the bar, and entered a student of the Inner Temple. He worked as hard at law as he had done at medicine. Writing to his father, he said, " Everybody says to me, ' You are certain of luccess in the end, — only persevere ; ' and though J 200 LORD LANGDALE. Chap. VL ü ..n*t well understand how this is to happen, I try to believe it as much as I can, and 1 shall not fail to do everything in my power." At twenty-eight he was called to the bar, and had every step in life yet to make. His means were straitened, and he lived upon the con¬ tributions of his friends. For years he studied and waited. Still no business came. He stinted himself in recreation, in clothes, and even in the necessaries of life ; struggling on indefatigably through all. Writing liome he " confesses that he hardly knows how he shall be able to struggle on till he has had fair time and op¬ portunity to establish himself." After three years' wait¬ ing thus without success, he wrote to his friends that, rather than be a burden upon them longer, he is willing to give the matter up and return to Cambridge, " where he is sure of support and some profit." The friends at home sent him another small remittance, and he went on. Business gradually came in. Acquitting himself credit¬ ably in small matters, he was intrusted with cases of greater importance. He was a man who never missed an opportunity, nor allowed a legitimate chance of im¬ provement to escape him. His unflinching industry soon began to tell upon his fortunes ; a few more years and he was not only enabled to do without assistance from home, but he was in a position to pay back with interest the debts which he had incurred. The clouds had dispersed, and the after-career of Henry Bicker- Bteth was one of honor, of emolument, and of distin¬ guished fame. He ended his career as Master of the Rolls, sitting in the House of Peers as Baron Langdale. His life affords only another illustration of the power of patience, perseverance, and conscientious working, in elevating the character of the individual, and crowriug his labors with the most complete success. Chap. VI. LOUD LANGDALE. ^1 Sucïi are a few of the distinguished men wlio have honorably worked their way to the highest position, and won the richest rewards of their profession, by the exer^ fflise of honest industry and patient perseverance. ÍQ2 TEUTONIC KNKKül^, CHAPTER m ENEKGY AND COURAGE. ** î>eTi muthigen gehört die Welt." — German Proverb, ** lu every work that he hegan ... he did it with all his heart, asá prospered." — 2 CÄron. xxsl. 21. There is a famous speech recorded of an old Norse¬ man, thoroughly characteristic of the Teuton. " I believe neither in idols nor demons," said he, " I put my sole trust in my own strength of body and soul." The ancient crest of a pickaxe, with the motto of " Either I will find a way or make one," was an expression of the same sturdy inde¬ pendence and practical materialism, which to this day dis¬ tinguishes the descendants of the Northmen. Indeed, nothing could be more characteristic of the Scandinavian mythology, than that it had a god with a hammer. A man's character is seen in small matters ; and from even so slight a test as the mode in which a man wields a liammer, his energy may in some measure be inferred. 1 lius an eminent Frenchman hit off in a single phrase tie characteristic quality of the inhabitants of a partic¬ ular district, in which a friend of his proposed to settle and buy land. " Beware," said he, " of making a pur¬ chase there ; I know the men of that department ; the pupils who come from it to our veterinary school at Paris^ do not strike hard upon the anvil ; they want energy ; and ckap. vu. FORCE OF PURPOSE. 203 you will not get a satisfactory return on any capital you may invest there." A fine and just appreciation of char^ acter, indicating the accurate and thoughtful observer ; and strikingly illustrative of the fact that it is the energy of the individual men that gives strength to a state, and confers a value even upon the very soil which they cul¬ tivate. As the French proverb has it : Tant vaut fhomme, tant vaut sa terre." The cultivation of this quality is of the greatest impor¬ tance ; resolute determination in the pursuit of worthy objects being the foundation of all true greatness of char¬ acter. Energy enables a man to force his way through irksome drudgery and dry details, and carries him onward and upward in every station in life. It accomplishes more than genius, with not one half the disappointment and peril. It is not eminent talent that is required to insure success in any pursuit so much as purpose, — not merely the power to achieve, but the will to labor energetically and perseveringly. Hence energy of will may be defined to be the very central power of character in a man, — in a word, it is the Man himself. It gives impulse to his every action, and soul to every efibrt. True hope is based on it, — and it is hope that gives the real perfume to life. There is a fine heraldic motto on a broken helmet in Battle Abbey, " L'espoir est ma force," which might be the motto of every man's life. " Woe unto him that is faint-hearted," says the son of Sirach. There is, indeed, no blessing equal to the possession of a stout heart. Even if a man fail in his efforts, it will be a great satisfaction to him to enjoy the consciousness of having done his best. In humble life nothing can bo more cheering and beautiful than to see a man combat¬ ing suffering by patience, triumphing in his integrity, and 2ö| COURAGEOUS WOLKING. Chap Vil wlio, wlien Lis feet are bleeding and Lis limbs failing Lir»> çtill walks upon Lis courage. Mere wisLes and desires but engender a sort of green- eickness in young minds, unless tLey are promptly em-* bodied in act and deed. It will not avail merely to wait, as so many do, " until BlucLer comes up," but they must struggle on and persevere in tLe mean time, as Wellington did. TLe good purpose once formed must be carried out witL alacrity, and without swerving. In many walks of life dmdgery and toil must be cLeer- fully endured as tLe necessary discipline of life. Hugh IMiller says, tLe only school in which he was properly taught was "that world-wide school in which toil and hardship are the severe but noble teachers." He who allows his application to falter, or shirks his work on friv¬ olous pretexts, is on the sure road to ultimate failure. Let any task be undertaken as a thing not possible to be evaded, and it will soon come to be performed with alac¬ rity and cheerfulness. Charles IX. of Sweden was a firm believer in the power of will, even in a youth. Lay¬ ing his hand on the head of his youngest son when en¬ gaged upon a difficult task, he exclaimed, " He shall do it ! he shall do it ! " The habit of strenuous continued labor becomes comparatively easy in time, like every other habit. Thus even persons with the commonest brains and the most slender powers will accomplish much, if they apply themselves wholly and indefatigably to one thing at a time. Powell Buxton placed his confidence in ordinary means and extraordinary application ; realizing ihe scriptural injunction, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might ; " and he himself attrib¬ uted his own remarkable success in life to his practice of constantly " being a whole man to one thing at a time»" ClïAP. VII. POVER OF WILL. 205 Nothing that is of real worth can be achieved without courageous working. Man owes his growth chieilj tc that active striving of the will, that encounter with diíFi- culty, which we call effort ; and it is astonishing to find how often results apparently impracticable are thus mado possible. An intense anticipation itself transforms })0s- Bibility into reality ; our desires being often but the pro- cursors of the things which we are capable of performing. On the contrary, the timid and hesitating find everything impossible, chiefly because it seems so. It is related of a young French officer, that he used to walk about his apartment exclaiming, " I will be Marshal of France and a great general.^' This ardent desire was the presenti¬ ment of his success; for he did become a distinguished commander, and he died a Marshal of France. Mr. Walker, author of the "Original," had so great a faith in the power of will, that he says on one occasion he determined to be well, and he was so. This may answer once ; but, though safer to follow than many prescriptions, it will not always succeed. The powder of mind over body is no doubt great, but it may be strained until the physical power breaks down altogether^ It is related of Muley Moluc, the Moorish leader, that, when lying ill, almost worn out by an incurable disease, a battle took place between his troops and the Portu¬ guese ; when, starting from his litter at the great crisis of the fight, he rallied his army, led them to victory, and instantly afterwards sank exhausted and expired. It is will^ — fori^,e of purpose, — that enables a man to do or be whatever he sets his mind on being or doing. A holy man was accustomed to say, "Whatever you wish, that you are : for such is the force of our will, Joined to the Divine, that whatever we wish to be, seri-* 206 FREEDOM OF THE WILL. Chap. Vit ously, and with a true intention, that we become. No one ardently wishes to be submissive, patient, modest, or liberal, who does not become what be wishes." The story is told of a working carpenter, who. was observed one day planing a magistrate's bench, which be was re¬ pairing, with more than usual carefulness, and when asked the reason, be replied, " Because I wish to make it easy against the time when I come to sit upon it myself." And singularly, enough, the man actually lived to sit upon that very bench as a magistrate. Whatever theoretical conclusions logicians may have formed as to the freedom of the will, each individual feels that practically he is free to choose between good and evil, — that he is not like a mere straw thrown upon the water to mark the direction of the current, but that he has within him the power of a strong swimmer, and is capable of striking out for himself, of buffeting with the waves, and directing to a great extent his own in¬ dependent course. There is no absolute constraint upon our volitions, and we feel and know that we are not bound, as by a spell, with reference to our actions. It would paralyze all desire of excellence were we to think otherwise. The entire business and conduct of life, with its domestic rules, its social arrangements, and its public institutions, proceed upon the practical conviction that the will is free. Without this where would be responsibil¬ ity?— and what the advantage of teaching, advising, preaching, reproof, and correction ? What were the use of laws, were it not the universal belief, as it is the universal fact, that men obey them or not, very much as they individually determine ? In every moment of our life, conscience is proclaiming that our will is free. It is the only thing that is wholly ours, and it restgf Chap. VII. LAMMENAIS.. - BUXTON. 203 • 6olely with ourselves individually, whether we give it th^ right or the wrong direction. Our habits or our teinj ta¬ lions are not our masters, but we of them. Even in yielding, conscience tells us we might resist ; and that were we determined to master them, there would not be required for that purpose a stronger resolution than know ourselves to be capable of exercising. "You are now at the age," said Lammenais once^ addressing a gay youth, "at which a decision must be formed by you ; a little later, and you may have to groan within the tomb which yourself have dug, without the power of rolling away the stone. That which the easiest becomes a habit in us is the will. Learn then to will strongly, and decisively ; thus fix your fioating life, and leave it no longer to be carried hither and thither, like a withered leaf, by every wind that blows." Buxton held the conviction that a young man might be very much what he pleased, provided he formed a stronor resolution and held to it. Writing to one of his o own sons, he once said, "You are now at that period of life, in which you must make a turn to the right or the left. You must now give proofs of principle, determina¬ tion, and strength of mind ; or you must sink into idla ness, and acquire the habits and character of a desultory, ineffective young man ; and if once you fall to that point, you will find it no easy matter to rise again. I am sure that a young man may be very much what he pleases. In my own case it was so. . . . Much of my hap¬ piness, and all my prosperity in life, have resulted from the change I made at your age. If you seriously resolve to be energetic and industrious, depend upon it that you will for your whole life have reason to rejoiiïô that you were wise enough to form and to act uj « 208 SUWARROW — NAPOLEON. Ckap. YÎ1 222 LIVINGSTONE. CiLiP. vn. ing tïie neiglibortiood collecting plants. He even carried on his reading amidst the roar of the machinery in the mill, so placing the book upon the spinning jenny which he worked that he could catch sentence after sentence as he passed, In this way the persevering factory boy ac¬ quired much useful knowledge ; and as he grew older, the desire possessed him of becoming a missionary to the heathen. With this object he set himself to obtain a medical education, in order the better to be qualified for the enterprise. He accordingly economized his earnings, and saved as much money as enabled him to support himself while attending the Medical and Greek classes, as well as the Divinity Lectures, at Glasgow, for several winters, working as a cotton spinner during the remainder of each year. He thus supported himself, during his college career, entirely by his own earnings as a factory workman, never having received a farthing of help from any other source. " Looking back now," he honestly says, " at that life of toil, I cannot but feel thankful that it formed such a material part of my early education ; and, were it possible, I should like to begin life over again in the same lowly style, and to pass through the same hardy training." At length he finished his medical cur¬ riculum, wrote his Latin thesis, passed his examinations, and was admitted a licentiate of the Faculty of Physi¬ cians and Surgeons. At first he thought of going to China, but the war then raging with that country pre¬ vented his following out that idea ; and having offered his services to the London Missionary Society, Ae was by them sent out to Africa, which he reached in 1840. He had intended to proceed to China by his own efforts ; and he says the only pang he had in going to Africa at the charge of the London Missionary Society was, because Chap. VIL LIVINGSTONE. 223 " it was not quite agreeable to one accustomed to work his own way to become, in a manner, dependent upon others." Arrived in Africa he set to work with great vigor. He could not brook the idea of merely entermg upon the labors of others, ])ut cut out a large sphere of independent work, preparing himself for it by undertak ing manual labor in building and other handicraft em ployment, in addition to teaching, which, he says, " made me generally as much exhausted and unfit for study is the evenings as ever I had been when a cotton-spinner- Whilst laboring amongst the Bechuanas, he dug canah\ built houses, cultivated fields, reared cattle, and taught the natives while he worked with them. At first, when starting with a party of them on foot upon a long jour¬ ney, he overheard their observations upon his appearance and powers—" He is not strong," said they ; "he is quite slim, and only appears stout because he puts himself into those bags (trousers) ; he will soon knock up." This caused the missionary's Highland blood to rise, and made him despise the fatigue of keeping them all at the top of their speed for days together, until he heard them express¬ ing proper opinions of his pedestrian powers. What he did in Africa, and how he worked, may be learnt from his own " Missionary Travels," one of the most fasci¬ nating books of its kind that has ever been given to the public. One of his last known acts is thoroughly charac¬ teristic of the man. The " Birkenhead " steam launch, which he took out with him to Africa, having proved a failure, he sent home orders for the construction of another at an estimated cost of 2,000Z. This sum he proposed to defray out of the means which he had set aside for his children arising from the profits of his trav^ els. "The children must make it up themselves," wat 224 JOHN HOWARD.—JONAS HANWAY Chat. VZ% in e^ect Ms expression in sending home the order for the appropriation of the money. The life of John Howard was throughout a striking illustration of the power of patient purpose and action. His sublime life proved that even physical weakness could remove mountains in the pursuit of an end rec¬ ommended by duty. The idea of ameliorating the condition of prisoners engrossed his whole thoughts and possessed him hke a passion ; and no toil, nor dan¬ ger, nor bodily suifering could turn him from that great purpose of his life. Though a man of no genius and but moderate talent, his heart was pure and his will was strong; even in his own time he achieved a remark¬ able degree of success ; but his influence did not die with him, for it has continued powerfully to affect not only the legislation of England, but of all civilized nations, even to the present hour. The life of Howard is, however, so * well known through the labors of Mr. Hepworth Dixon, that we prefer citing a few less known illustrations of this characteristic feature in the English character. Jonas Hanway was a man eminent in his own day for his integrity as a merchant, and his public spirit as a patriot and philanthropist ; though his name is now all but unknown. He was one of the many patient and per¬ severing men who have made England what it is, — content simply to do with energy the work they have been appointed to do, and to go to their rest thankfully when it is done,— " Leaving no memorial but a world Made better by their lives." île was born in 1712, at Portsmouth, where, his father, a storekeepoï in the dockyard, being killed by an accident Chap. VIí. HIS PERILOUS JOURNEYS. 221 he was left an orphan at an early age. His mothei removed with her family to London, where she had them put to school, and struggled hard to bring them up re" spectably. At seventeen Jonas was sent to Lisbon to be apprenticed to a merchant, where Iiis close attention to bu siiiess, his punctuality, and his strict honor and integ¬ rity, gained for him the respect and esteem of all who knew him. He returned to London, and in 1743, ac¬ cepted the offer of a partnership in an important mercan¬ tile house at St. Petersburg, extensively engaged in the Caspian trade, then in its infancy. Mr. Hanway went out to Russia for the purpose of extending the business ; and shortly after his arrival, he found it necessary to visit the principal seats of the trade in person. He accord¬ ingly set out for Persia, with a caravan of English bales of cloth making twenty carriage loads. In ten days from St. Petersburg he reached Moscow, seven days after he entered the Steppe, and in other eight days he reached Zuritzen on the Volga. There he embarked for Astra- can, and with difficulty escaped the perils of the passage down the river, which was then infested by gangs of robber-boatmen, who lived by plundering the traders- From Astracán he sailed for Astrabad, on the southeast¬ ern shore of the Caspian, where he had scarcely landed his bales, when an insurrection broke out, his goods were seized, and though he afterwards recovered the principal part of them, the fruits of his enterprise were in a great measure lost. A plot was even set on foot to seize liiim self and his party ; so he timely took to sea, and after encountering great perils and exposure in an open boat, which he bore with exemplary patience and courage, he reached Ghilan in safety. His escape on this occasion gave him the first idea fii words which he aft er wards P 10^ 226 JOISIAS HANWAY. Chap. VII adopted as the motto of his life, — " Never Despair!* After travelling many hundred miles amidst hostile bands, he prepared to leave the country, but invested the money which he had realized by the sale of his partly recovered goods in the purchase of raw silk, which event¬ ually proved a successful venture. He afterwards re¬ sided in St. Petersburg for five years, carrying on a lucrative and prosperous business. A relative having left him some property, and his means being sufficient to enable him to return to Eng¬ land, Hanway left Pussia, and arrived in his native country in 1750, after an absence of about eight years. His object in returning to England was, as he himself expressed it, " to consult his own health (which was ex¬ tremely delicate), and do as much good to himself and others as he was able." The rest of his life was spent in deeds of active benevolence and usefulness to his fellow- men. He lived in a quiet style, in order that he might employ a larger share of his income in purposes of benevolence. One of the first public improvements to which he devoted himself, was that of the highways cf the metropolis. The streets of London were then in a wretched state, — ill paved, full of ruts and holes, and filthy in the extreme. Sign-boards swung creakingly over the footways beneath, which were inclosed from the carriage-way by rows of posts ; but the space was so nar¬ row thai there was barely room for one person to pass another on foot, and in wet weather torrents of dirty water fell upon the passengers from the projecting spouts on either side the street. Mr. Hanway took up the sub¬ ject with great vigor, and urged the necessity for im¬ provement so pertinaciously, that at length he secured the interference of the legislature. An accident, which Chap. VïI. JONAS HANWAY. 221 happened to the carriage of the Speaker of the Ilou«e of Commons (Mr. Onslow), in passing through the nar row entrance near Craig's Court, at Charing Cross, con¬ tributed to force the subject on public attention, and the Act appointing commissioners was passed ; since which the streets of London have become as creditable to the wealth of the metropolis as they were formerly a dis¬ grace. The old and often recurring rumor of a French inva¬ sion having come up in 1755, and a formidable squadron and large body of forces having been assembled at Brest, for the ostensible purpose of making a descent upon this country, Mr. Han way turned his attention to the best mode of keeping up our breed of seamen. The Act passed in Queen Anne's reign, directing every master of a vessel of thirty tons and upwards to take one or more apprentices from the parish, being found inoperative, Mr. Hanway endeavored by sundry printed letters to urge the masters in the merchant service to comply with the directions of the Act ; but the sdngle voice of an individ¬ ual was too feeble to be heard where self-interest was concerned. Determined, however, to do what he could Í0 remedy the defect, Hanway summoned a meeting of merchants and shipowners at the Royal Exchange, and there proposed to them to form themselves into a society for fitting out landsmen volunteers and boys, to serve ous board the king's ships. The proposal was received with enthusiasm ; a society was formed, and officers were ap¬ pointed, Mr. Hanwmy directing its entire operations. The result was the establishment in 1756 of The Manne So ciety, an institution wffiich has proved of real national advantage, and to this day is of great and substantial utility. Six years afte^' the society was formed. 5.451 228 MAEINE SOCIETY; FOUNDLING HOSPITAL. Chap. Vil boys and 4,787 landsmen volunteers liad been fitted Ovit by the society and added to the navy, and to this day H IS in active operation, about 600 poor boys, after a care«, ful education, being annually apprenticed as sailors, prin eipally in the merchant service. Mr. Han way devoted the other portions of his spar^ time to improving or establishing important public insti¬ tutions in the metropolis. From an early period he took an active interest in the Foundling Hospital, which had been started by one Thomas Coram many years before, A charter had been obtained in 1739, and an hospital was erected for the reception of foundlings in 1742-9, The institution was supported with munificent zeal ; not less than 10,000/. was collected av the musical perform¬ ances under Handel, who also presented an organ to the chapel, and the score of his "Messiah'* to the guardians. Parliament granted 10,000/., and the funds at the dis¬ posal of the institution were so abundant that the guar¬ dians opened their doors to receive " all children nc t exceeding two months old which should be offered.'" The consequence was, that an immense number of chil¬ dren were sent in, whose parents were themselves suffi¬ ciently able to maintain and educate them. Though the foundling sentiment was the fashion, like many other sentiments without sense, it threatened soon to da far more harm than good ; and it began to be feared that the humanity might even prove inhuman. Mr Hanway was one of the first to point out this ; he saw that by holding out to selfish parents the prospect of getting their children provided for and taken care of by the hospital, the tendency was to promote licentiousness, «AS* well as to sever the, natural tie which binds togethei the family ; and he accordingly paid 50/. to qualify Ifira CHAP. Vil. JONAS IIANWAY. 229 self as a governor, in order that he might be in a betíeí position to take steps to stem the evil. He enteied upon this work in the face of the fashionable philanthropy Oi the time ; holding to his purpose until he had brought the charity back to its proper objects ; and time and ex¬ perience have amply proved that he was in the right. In 1771 Parliament withdrew its grants, and the hospi¬ tal has since been left to the support of private charity, which has proved amply sufficient, whilst every security is taken that the objects of the institution are not abused. The Magdalen Hospital was also established, in a great measure through Mr. Han way's exertions, in 1758 ; and there is reason to believe that this institution has been the means of restoring many poor women to virtuous courses, who Avould otherwise have been lost. Mr. Han- way was accustomed to invite to his house those who had been recovered through its instrumentality, on which occasions he endeavored to strengthen and uphold them in their good resolutions, while he kindly watched over their well-doing in life. But Jonas Hanway's most laborious and persevering efforts were in behalf of the infant parish poor. The subsequent labors of Howard in behalf of prisoners were not more honorable to him, than were those of Han way in behalf of the helpless and innocent offspring of the unfortunate. The misery and neglect amidst which the children of the parish poor then grew up, and the mor¬ tality which prevailed amongst them, were positively frightful ; but there was no fashionable movement on foot to remedy the evil, as in the case of the foundlings. So Jonas Han way summoned his individual energies to the task. Alone and unassisted, he first endeavored to ascertain by personal inquiry the extent of the e^ii. 230 THE INFANT PARISH POOR. Chap. VU He explored the miserable and unhealthy dwollingá of the poorest classes in London, and visited the poor- house sick wards, by which he carefully ascertained the management in detail of every workhouse in and near the metropolis. In order then to ascertain in what manner the legislators of foreign countries had dealt with a similar evil, he made a journey into France, through Holland, visiting all the public houses for the reception of the poor on his way, and noting whatever he thought might be adopted at home with advantage. He was thus employed for five years ; and on his re¬ turn to England, at intervals, he published the result of his observations ; but his accounts were so melan¬ choly that they were generally disbelieved, and he made many enemies in consequence of having ventured to publish the names of every parish officer, of what¬ ever rank in life, under whose hands any infants had died of neglect. It appeared that in one workhouse, in St. Clement Danes, one nurse had twenty-three poor children committed to her care in the year 1765, of whom eighteen had died, two were discharged, and only three remained alive. Of seventy-four children received into the workhouse of St. Andrew and St. George, Holborn, sixty-four had died during the samo y^ear. In some populous parishes, not a single child was found alive at the end of twelve months ; all had died. Wherever his statements were disputed, he pub¬ lished the names of the children, the date of each birth and admission, the time the child had lived, and the name of its nurse. He next made a journey through¬ out England, to compare the mortality in country work¬ houses with that of the metropolis; and everywhere he found the same excessive mortality, arising fi'om over» chj^p. til JONAS HANWAY. 2SI crowding, ill ventilation, and neglect. The publication of such striking facts, and the known integrity cf the man, could not fail to produce an effect even upon the most indifferent ; and many workhouses speedily be« came reformed and improved. In 1761 he had ob¬ tained an Act obliging every London parish to keep an annual register of all the infants received, discharged, and dead ; and he took care that the Act should work, for he himself superintended its working with indefati¬ gable watchfulness. He went about from workhouse to workhouse in the morning, and from one member of Parliament to another in the afternoon, for day after day, and for year after year, enduring every rebuff, an¬ swering every objection, and accommodating himself to every humor. At length, after a perseverance hardly to be equalled, and after nearly ten years' labor, he ob¬ tained an Act, at his own sole expense, (7 Geo. III. c. 39,) directing that all parish infants belonging to the parishes within the bills of mortality shall not be nurseC in the workhouses, but be sent to nurse a certain number of miles out of town, until they are six years old, under the care of guardians, to be elected triennially. The poor people called this " the Act for keeping children alive ; " and the registers for the years which followed its passing, as compared with those which preceded it, showed that thousands of lives had been preserved through the judicious interference of this good and sen¬ sible man. Wherever a philanthropic work was to be done in London, be sure that Jonas Hanway's hand was in it. One of the first Acts for the protection of chimney- iweepers' boys was obtained through his influence.* A * While exerting himself on behalf of the little sweeps, one daj 232 HANWAY'S REWARD. Chap. VIL destructive fire at Montreal, and another at Bridgetown, Barbadoes, afforded him the opportunity for raising a timely subscription for the relief of the sufferers. His name appeared in every list, and his disinterestedness and sincerity were universally recognized. But he was not suffered to waste his little fortune entirely in the ser¬ vice of others. Five leading citizens of London, head¬ ed by Mr. Hoare, the banker, without Mr. Hanway's knowledge, waited on Lord Bute, then minister, in a body ; and in the names of their fellow-citizens, request¬ ed that some notice might be taken of this good man's disinterested services to his country. The result was, his appointment shortly after, as one of the commis¬ sioners for victualling the navy. One of the minor social evils against which Mr. Han- way lifted up his voice, was the custom of what was called vails-giving^ — or the gratuities then paid by visit¬ ors at the houses which they frequented, and which the servants had come to regard as a right. Mr. Hanway was on one occasion thus paying the servants of a respectable friend with whom he had dined, one by one as they ap¬ peared : " Sir, your great coat," — a shilling : " Your hat," he said to a little fellow who had been sweeping a chimney in his own house, " Suppose now I give you a shilling? " " God Almighty bless your honor, and thank you." " And what if I give you a fine tie-wig to wear on May-day, which is just at hand?" " Ah, bless your honor! my master won't let me go out on May-day." "No! why not?" "He says if s low lífe^ Mr. Hanway was a religious man, and on one occasion, when hiring a coachman, and telling him the duty he required, he concluded, " You will attend with the rest of the family every evening at prayers." " Prayers, sir! " " Why, did you never say your prayers?" asked Mr. Hanway. "I have never been in a praying family," answered the man. " But have you any objection to say your prayers?" " No, sir, I've no objeo^ Mon ; / hope you'll consider it in my wag es.'^ Chap. VIL JONAS HANWAY. 2BB — shilling : " Stick," — shilling : " Umbpilla," — shilling ^ "Sir, jour glov^es." "Why, friend," said he, "jou may keep the gloves, they are not worth a shilling." This absurd practice was eventually put down by satire, —an(í the death-blow was given to it by Dodsley's " High Life below Stairs " Towards the close of his life Mr. Hanway's health be¬ came very feeble, and although he found it necessary to resign his office at the Victualling Board, he could not bo idle ; but worked away at the establishment of Sunday Schools, — a movement then in its infancy, — or in re¬ lieving poor blacks, many of whom then wandered desti¬ tute about the streets of the metropolis, — or in alleviat¬ ing the sufferings of some neglected and destitute class of society. Notwithstanding his familiarity with misery in all its shapes, he was one of the most cheerful of be¬ ings ; and, but for his cheerfulness he could never, with so delicate a frame, have got through so vast an amount of self-imposed work. He dreaded nothing so much as inactivity. Though fragile, he was bold and indefatigable ; and his moral courage was of the first order. It may be regarded as a trivial matter to mention, that he was the first who ventured to walk the streets of London with an umbrella over his head. But let any modern London merchant venture to walk along Cornhill in a peaked Chinese hat, and he will find it takes some degree of moral courage to persevere in U, After carrying an urn' brella for thirty years, Mr. Hanway saw the article al length come into general use. Hanway was a man of strict honor, truthfulness, and integrity ; and everything he said might be relied upon. He had so great a respect, amounting almost to a rever 3rice, for the character of the honest merchant, that li 234 HANWAY'S CHARACTER. Chap, vil was thv> J)iil7 subject upon which he was ever seduced into a euîogîum. He strictly practised what he pro¬ fessed, and both as a merchant and afterwards as a com- missioner for victualling the navy, his conduct was with¬ out stain. He would not accept the slightest favor of any sort from a contractor ; and when any present was sent to him whilst at the Yictualling Office, he would politely return it, with the intimation that " he had made it a rule not to accept anything from any person engaged with the office." When, at the age of seventy-four, he found his vital powers failing, he prepared for death with as much cheerfulness as he would have prepared himself for a journey into the country. He sent round and paid all his tradesmen, took leave of his friends, arranged his affairs, had his person neatly disposed of, and his last breath escaped him in the midst of a sentence which began with the word Christ." The property which he left did not amount to two thousand pounds, and, as he had no relatives who wanted it, he divided it amongst sundry orphans and poor persons whom he had befriended during his lifetime. Such, in brief, was the beautiful life of Jonas Han way, — as honest, energetic, hard-work¬ ing, and true-hearted a man as ever lived. The life of Granville Sharp is another striking example of the same power of individual energy, — a power which was afterwards transfused into the noble band of workers in the cause of Slavery Abolition, prominent among whom were Clarkson, Wilberforce, Buxton, and Brougham. But, giants though these men were in this cause, Granville vhiarp was the first, and perhaps the greatest of them all, in point of perseverance, energy, and intrepidity. He began life as apprentice to a linen-draper on Tower Hill ; but, leaving that business after his apprenticeship wa« Chap. VII. GRANVILLE SHARP. 235 out, lie next entered as a clerk in the Ordnance Office and it was while engaged in that humble position that he carried on in his spare hours the work of Negro Emanci¬ pation. He was always, even when an apprentice, ready to undertake any amount of volunteer labor where any îiseful purpose was to be served. Thus, while learn» iiig the linen-drapery business, a fellow-apprentice, who lodged in the same house, and was a Unitarian, led him into frequent discussions on religious subjects ; in the course of which the Unitarian youth insisted that Gran¬ ville's Trinitarian misconception of certain passages of Scripture arose from his want of acquaintance with the Greek tongue ; on which he immediately set to work in his evening hours, and shortly acquired an intimate knowl¬ edge of Greek. A similar controversy with another fel¬ low-apprentice, a Jew, as to the interpretation of the prophecies, led him in like manner to undertake and overcome the difficulties of Plebrew. But the circumstance which gave the bias and direc¬ tion to the main labors of his life, originated in his gener¬ osity and benevolence. It was in this wise. His brothér William, a surgeon in Mincing Lane, gave gratuitous advice to the poor, and amongst the numerous applicants for relief at his surgery was a poor African named Jon¬ athan Strong. It appeared that the negro had been so brutally treated by his master, a Barbadoes lawyer then in London, that he had been thereby rendered iame and almost blind, and was altogether unable to work ; and his owner, regarding him as no longer of the slightest value as a chattel, but likely only to involve him in expense, cruelly turned him adrift into the streets of London. This poor man, a mass of disease, supported himself by beg¬ ging for a time, until he found his way to William Sharpj 236 THE SLAVE. Ch\P. V.U who gave him some medicine, and shoilly after got liia admitted to St. Bartholomew's hospital, where he wai cured. On coming out of the hospital, the two brotherf snpported the negro in order to keep him off the streets, but they had not the least suspicion at the time that any one had a claim upon his person. They even succeeded in obtaining a situation for Strong with an apothecary, in whose service he remained for two years ; and it was while he was attending his mistress behind a hackney- coach, that his former owner, the Barbadoes lawyer, recognized him, and determined to recover possession of the slave, again rendered valuable by the restoration of his health. The lawyer employed two of the Lord Mayor's officers to apprehend Strong, and he was lodged in the Compter, until he could be shipped off to the AVest Indiesi The negro, bethinking him in his captivity of the kind services which Granville Sharp had rendered him in his great distress some years before, dispatched a letter to him requesting his help. Sharp had forgotten the name of Strong, but he sent a messenger to make inquiries, who returned saying that the keepers denied having any such person in their charge. His suspicions were roused, and he went forthwith to the prison, and insisted upon seeing Jonathan Strong. He was admitted, and recognized the poor negro, now in custody as a recap¬ tured slave. Mr. Sharp charged the. master of the prison at his own peril not to deliver up Strong to any person whatever, until he had been carried before the Lord Mayor, to whom Sharp immediately went, and ob¬ tained a summons against those persons who had seized and imprisoned Strong without a warrant. The parties appeared before tlie Lord Mayor accordingly, and it ap* peared from the proceedings that Strong's former master ÜHAP. Vil. SLAVERY ENGLAND. 287 had already- sold liim to a new one, who produced the bill of sale and claimed the negro as his property. As no charge of offene ^ was made against Strong, and as the Lord Mayor was incompetent to deal with the legal question as to Strong's liberty or otherwise, he discharged him, and the slave followed his benefactor out of court, no one daring to touch him. The man's owner imme¬ diately gave Sharp notice of an action to recover posses¬ sion of his negro slave, of whom he Had been robbed; and now commenced that protracted and energetic move¬ ment in favor of the enslaved negro, which forms one of the brightest pages in English history. About this time (1767), the personal liberty of the Englishman, though cherished as a theory, was subject to grievous infringements, and was almost daily violated. The impressment of men for the sea-service was con¬ stantly practised, and, besides the pressgangs, there were regular bands of kidnappers employed in London and all the large towns of the kingdom, to seize men for the East India Company's service. And when the men were not wanted for India, they were shipped off to the planters in the American colonies. Negro slaves were openly advertised for sale in the London and Liverpool newspapers. For instance, the Gazetteer, of April 18th, 1769, classed together for sale, "at the Bull and Gato Inn, Hol born, a chestnut gelding, a tim-whiskey, and a well-made, good-tempered black boy." Rewards were then offered, as now in the Slave States of America, for recovering, and securing fugitive slaves, and for convey¬ ing them down to certain specified ships in the riven That no shame was felt at the open recognition of slav¬ ery, is apparent frcm an advertisement in the Daily Ad« vertiser, of the 16tii May, 1768, offering a reward to 238 SLAVERY IN ENGLAND. Chap. VIL \v"hoe^ er would apprehend a negro boy and bring him, or send tidings of him to Mr. Alderman Beckford, in Pall Mall. The Public Advertiser, of the 28th No« vember, 1769, contains this advertisement: — "To be sold, a black girl, the property of J. B , eleven years of age, who is tolerably handy, works at her nee¬ dle tolerably, and speaks English perfectly well ; is of an excellent temper, and willing disposition. — Inquire of Mr. Owen, at the Angel Inn, behind St. Clemenfs Church, in the Strand." Such was the state of matters when Granville Sharp threw himself, body and soul, into his great work. Though only a clerk in a public ofhce, without any personal influence whatever, and armed only with integrity and boldness in a good cause, he was en¬ abled in the issue effectually to vindicate the personal liberty of the subject, and to establish as a fact what up ^0 that time had been but a theory, — that the slave who sets his foot on British ground becomes at that instant ^ t ¿ree ! As yet the position of the reputed slave in England was undefined and doubtful. The judgments which had oeen given in the courts of law were fluctuating and vari¬ ous, resting on no settled principle. Although it was a popular belief that no slave could breathe in England, there were legal men of great eminence who had ex¬ pressed a directly contrary opinion. Thus, Mr. Yorke, Attorney-General, and Mr. Talbot, Solicitor-General of England in 1729, concurred in the decided opinion that the slave by coming into England did not become free; that his owner's property in him was in no respect de¬ termined or varied ; and that his master might legally compel the slave to return again to the plantations. The lawyers to whom Mr. Sharp resorted for advice, in de* Chap. VIL GRANVILLE SHARP. 239 fending himself in the action raised against him in the case of Jonathan Strong, generally concurred in this view, and he was further told by Jonathan Strong's owner, that the eminent Lord Chief Justice Mansfield, and all the leading counsel, were decidedly of the sanní opinion. Such information would have caused despaii in a mind less courageous and earnest than that of Gran ■ ville Sharp ; but it only served to stimulate his reso¬ lution to depend mainly upon his own efforts in the arduous battle which now lay before him. " Thus for¬ saken," he said, "by my professional defenders, I was compelled, through the want of regular legal assistance, to make a hopeless attempt at self-defence, though I was totally unacquainted either with the practice of the law or the foundations of it, having never opened a law-book fexcept the Bible) in my life, until that time, when I most reluctantly undertook to search the indexes of a law library, which my bookseller had lately purchased." The whole of his time during the day was occupied with the business of the ordnance department, where he held the most laborious post in the office ; he was there¬ fore under the necessity of conducting his new studies late at night or early in the morning. He confessed that he was himself becoming a sort of slave. Writing to a clerical friend, to excuse himself for delay in re¬ plying to a letter, he said, "I profess myself entirely incapable of holding a literary correspondence. What little time I have been able to save from sleep at nighf, and early in the morning, has been necessarily employed in the examination of some points of law, which admitted of no delay, and yet required the most diligent researches and examination in my study. And I have not scrupled to employ now and then, even the leisure of a Sunday 240 SHAEP'S STUDY OF THE LAW. Chap. YJl m tbito iianner, because my labor has not been for profit^ but mei^ly with a view to do good, and prevent injustice, by pointung out some notorious corruptions in the beaten paths of ¿he law, which has enabled me to serve a few individuals, I hope with good effect/' In pursuance of his resolution, now fully formed, he gave up every leisure moment that he could command during the next two years, to the close study of the laws of England affecting personal liberty, — wading through an immense mass of dry and repulsive literature, worse than Dryasdust, and making extracts of all the most important Acts of Parliament, decisions of the courts, and opinions of eminent lawyers, as he went along. In this tedious and protracted inquiry he had no instructor^ nor assistant, nor adviser. He could not find a single lawyer whose opinion was favorable to his undertaking. The results of his inquiries were, however, as gratifying to himself as they were surprising to the gentlemen of the law. " God be thanked," he wrote, " there is nothing in any English law or statute —at least that I am able to find out—that can justify the enslaving of others." He thought he now saw a clear solution of the diffi¬ culties which had embarrassed the former trials of ne¬ gro cases. He had bottomed the whole inquiry, and found that a slave really could not breathe in England. He had planted his foot firm, and now he doubted noth¬ ing. He drew up the result of his studies in a summary form : it was a plain, clear, and manly statement, entitled, *0n the Injustice of tolerating Slavery in England;" and numerous copies, made by himself, were circulated by him amongst the most eminent lawyers of the time» Stiong's owner, finding the sort of man he had to deal with, invented various, pretexts for deferring the suit Chap, */1L GRANVILLE SHARP. 241 against Sliarp, and at length offered a compromise, which was rejected. Granville went on circulating his manu¬ script tracts among the lawyers, until at length those employed against Jonathan Strong were deterred frona proceeding further, and the result was, that the piaintilf was compelled to pay treble costs for not bringing for¬ ward his action. The tract was then printed in 1769.. The vindication of the emancipated Jonathan Strong naturally led Mr. Sharp on to the study of the general subject of the Slave-Trade, and he addressed a letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury imploring his Grace's pow¬ erful assistance, — which does not seem, however, to have been then responded to. In the mean time other cases oc¬ curred of the kidnapping of negroes in London, and theii shipment to the West Indies for sale. Wherever Sharp could lay hold of any such case, he at once took proceed¬ ings to rescue the negrO. Thus the wife of one Hylas, an African, was seized, and dispatched to Barbadoes ; on which Sharp, in the name of Hylas, instituted legal pro¬ ceedings against the aggressor, obtained a verdict with damages, and Hylas's wife was brought back to England free. Sharp's mind became fully awakened to the mag¬ nitude of the abuse against which he was contending as yet single-handed, and he watched anxiously on every side to prevent an accumulation of the evil. Another forcible capture of a negro, attended with great cruelty, having occurred in 1770, he immediately set himself on the track of the aggressors. An Africain named Lewis, was seized one dark night by two water men employed by the person who claimed the negro as his property, dragged into the water, hoisted into a boat, where he was gagged, and his limbs were tied ; and then rowing down river, they put him on board a ship bound Q n 242 THE ABOriTION OF SLAVERY. Chap. VII for Jamaica, where lie was to be sold for a slave upon his arrival in the island. The cries of the poor negro had^ however, attracted the attention of some neighbors, — the house adjoining that from which the man had been torn being then occupied by Mrs. Banks, the mother of the afterwards celebrated Sir Joseph Banks, — and on the next morning, the good lady proceeded direct to Mr. Granville Sharp, now known as the negroes' friend, and informed him of the outrage. Sharp immediately got a warrant to bring back Thomas Lewis, and proceeded to Gravesend, but on arrival there the ship had sailed for the Downs. A writ of habeas corpus was obtained, sent down to Spithead, and before the ship could leave the shores of England, the writ was served. The slave was found chained to the mainmast bathed in tears^ casting mournful looks on the land from which he wai¡ about to be torn ; he was immediately liberated, brought back to London, and a warrant was issued against the author of the outrage. The promptitude of head, heart, and hand, displayed by Mr. Sharp in this transaction, could scarcely have been surpassed, and yet he accused himself of slowness. The case was tried before Lord Mansfield,—whose opinion, it will be remembered, had already been expressed as decidedly opposed to that entertained by Granville Sharp. On this occasion, Mr« Dunning, one of the counsel employed on behalf of the negro, holding up Mr. Sharp's tract in his hand, declared ])efore the court, that he was prepared to maintain " that no man can be legally detained as a slave in this couii' try." Lord Mansfield, however, avoided bringing tho question to an issue, or offering any opinion on the legal question as to the slave's personal liberty or otherwise, but discharged the negro because the defendant could CÎHAP. VIL GRANVILLE SHARP. 243 bring no evidence that Lewis was even nominally liia property. The question of the personal liberty of the negro in England was therefore still undecided ; but in the mean time Mr. Sharp continued steady in his benevolent course, and by his indefatigable exertions and promptitude of action, many more were added to the list of the rescued. Àt length the important case of James Somerset occurred; a case which is said to have been selected, at the mutual desire of Lord Mansfield and Mr. Sharp, in order to bring the great question involved to a clear legal issue. Somerset had been brought to England by his master, and left there. Afterwards his master sought to appre bend him and send him off to Jamaica, for sale. Mr Sharp, as usual, at once took the negro's case in hand and employed counsel to defend him. Lord Mansfiel(:i intimated that the case was of such general concern, that he' should take the opinion of all the judges upon it. Mr. Sharp now felt that he would have to contend with ail the force that could be brought against him, but his resolution was in no wise shaken. Fortunately for him, in this severe struggle, his exertions had already begun to tell ; increasing interest was taken in the question, and many eminent legal gentlemen openly declared them- sidves to be upon his side. The cause of personal liberty, now at stake, was fairly tried before Lord Mansfield, assisted by the three jus¬ tices, ^— and tried on the broad principle of the essential and constitutional right of every man in England to the liberty of his person, unless forfeited by the law» It is unnecessary here to enter into any account of this r;reat trial ; tlie arguments extended to a great length, the cdi/ hidiig caiTicd over to another term, — when it was ¿ii THE CASE OF JAMES SOMERSET. Chap. V1Í' adjourned and readjourned,— but at length judgment was given bj Lord Mansfield, in whose powerful mind so gradual a change had been worked by the arguments of counsel, based mainly on Granville Sharp's tract, that he now declared the court to be so clearly of one opinion, ábat there was no necessity for referring the case to the twelve judges. He then declared that the claim of sla¬ very ne\ er can be supported; that the power claimed never was in use in. England, nor acknowledged by the law ; therefore the man James Somerset must be dis¬ charged, By securing this judgment Granville Sharp effectually abolished the Slave-Trade, until then carried on openly in the streets of Liverpool and London. But he also firmly established the glorious axiom, that as soon as any slave sets his foot on English ground, that moment he becomes free ; and there can be no doubt that this great decision of Lord Mansfield was mainly owing to Mr. Sharp's firm, resolute, and intrepid prosecution of the cause from the beginning to the end. It is unnecessary further to follow the career of Gran¬ ville Sharp. He continued to labor indefatigably in all good works ; he was instrumental in founding the colony of Sierra Leone as an asylum for rescued negroes ; he labored to ameliorate the condition of the native Indians in the American colonies. Inspired by his love of the Eiîglish character and constitution, he agitated the en¬ largement and extension of the political rights of the English people ; and he endeavored to eflTect the abolition of the impressment of seamen. In this latter enterprise he encountered the vehement opposition of the great literary elephant of the day. Dr. Johnson, who trampled under foot the arguments of the humble clerk of the ordnance, whilst strongly upholding the right and thy " neglecting nothing." Method is essential, and enables a larger amount of work to be got through with satigfwtion. " Method," said Cecil (afterwards Lord Burleigh), "is like packing things in a box ; a good packer will get in half as much again as a bad one." Cecil's dispatch of business was extraordinary, his maxim being, " The shortest way tö do many things is to do only one tiling crc^;" and Chap. \nL DISPATCH OF Bl^SINESS. 261 he never left a thing undone with a view of recurring to it at a period of more leisure. When business pressed, he rather chose to encroach on his hours of meals and rest than omit any part of his work. De Witt's maxim was like Cecil's : " One thing at a time." " If," said he, " I have any necessary dispatches to make, 1 think of nothing else till they are finished ; if any domestic afi fairs require my attention, I give myself wholly up to them till they are set in order." Dispatch comes with practice. A French minister, w^ho was alike remarka¬ ble for his dispatch of business and his constant attend¬ ance at places of amusement, being asked how he con¬ trived to combine both objects, replied, " Simply by never postponing till to-morrow what should be done to-day." Lord Brougham has said that a certain Eng¬ lish statesman reversed the process, and that his maxim was, never to transact to-day what could be postponed till to-morrow. Unhappily, such is the practice of many besides that minister, already almost forgotten ; the prac¬ tice is that of the indolent and the unsuccessful. Such men, too, are apt to rely upon agents, who are not always to be relied upon. Important affairs must be attended to in person. " If you want your business done," says the proverb, "go and do it; if you don't want it done, send some one else." An indolent coun- iry gentleman had a freehold estate producing about jve hundred a year. Becoming involved in debt, he cold half of the estate, and let the remainder to an in¬ dustrious farmer for twenty years. About the end of the term the farmer called to pay his rent, and asked the owner whether he would sell the farm. " Will you buy it?" asked the owner, surprised. " Yes, if we can agree about the price." " That is exceedingly strange,* §82 PROMPTITUDE. Chap. VIÎI observed the gentleman ; "pray, tell me liow it happens that, while I could not live upon twice as much land, for which I paid no rent, you are regularly paying me tw^o hundred a year for your farm, and are able, in a few years, to purchase it." "The reason is plain," was the reply ; " you sat still, and said Go ; I got up, and said Come ; you laid in bed and enjoyed your estate, I rose m the morning, and minded my business." Sir Walter Scott, writing to a youth who had obtained a situation and asked him for his advice, gave him in re¬ ply this sound counsel : " Beware of stumbling over a propensity which easily besets you from not having your time fully employed, — I mean what the women call dawdling. Your motto must be, Hoc age. Do instantly whatever is to be done, and take the hours of recreation after business, never before it. When a regiment is under march, the rear is often thrown into confusion because the front do not move steadily, and without in¬ terruption. It is the same with business. If that which is first in hand is not instantly, steadily, and regularly dispatched, other things accumulate behind, till afiairs begin to press all at once, and no human brain can stand the confusion." Promptitude in action may be stimulated by a due con¬ sideration of the value of time. An Italian philosopher was accustomed to call time his estate ; an estate which produces nothing of value without cultivation, but, duly improved, never fails to recompense the labors of the diligent worker. Allowed to lie waste, the product will be only noxious weeds and vicious growths of all kijids. One of the minor uses of steady employment is, that it keeps one out of mischief, for truly an idle brain is the devil's workshop, and a lazy man the devil's bolster. To Chap. VIÎL ECONOMY OF TIME. 263 be occupied is to be possessed as by a tenant, whereas to be idle is to be empty ; and when the doors of the imagination are opened, temptation finds a ready access, and evil thoughts come trooping in. It is observed at sea, that men are never so much disposed to grumble and mutiny as when least employed. Hence an old captain, when there was nothing else to do, would issus the order to "scour the anchor." Men of business are accustomed to quote the maxim that Time is money, but it is much more ; the proper improvement of it is self-culture, self-improvement, and growth of character. An hour wasted daily on trifles or in indolence, would, if devoted to self-improvement, make an ignorant man wise in a few years, and, em¬ ployed in good works, w^ould make his life fruitful, and death a harvest of worthy deeds. Fifteen minutes a day devoted to self-improvement, will be felt at the end of the year. Good thoughts and carefully gathered ex¬ perience take up no room, and are carried about with us as companions everywhere, without cost or incum¬ brance. An economical use of time is the true mode of securing leisure ; it enables us to get through busi¬ ness and carry it forward, instead of being driven by it. On the other hand, the miscalculation of time involves us in perpetual hurry, confusion, and difficulties ; and life becomes a mere shuffle of expedients, usually fol¬ lowed by disaster. Nelson once said, " I owe all my success in life to having been always a quarter of an hour before my time." Some take no thought of the value of money until they have come to an end of it, and many do the same witfc their time. The hours are allowed to flow by unera ployed, and then, when life is fast waning, they bethink 264 PUNCTUALITY. Chap. VTIL themselves of the duty of making a wiser use of it But the habit of listlessness and idleness may already have become confirmed, and they are unable to break the bonds with which they have permitted themselves to become bound. Lost wealth may be replaced by in= dustry, lost knowledge by study, lost health by temper¬ ance or medicine, but lost time is gone forever. A proper consideration of the value of time, will also inspire habits of punctuality. Punctuality," said Louis XIY., " is the politeness of kings." It is also the duty of gentlemen, and the necessity of men of business. Nothing begets confidence in a man sooner than the practice of this virtue, and nothing shakes confidence sooner than the want of .it. He who holds to his ap¬ pointment and does not keep you waiting for him, shows that he has regard for your time as well as for his own. Thus punctuality is one of the modes by whieh we tes¬ tify our personal respect for those whom we are called upon to meet in the business of life. It is also conscien¬ tiousness in a measure ; for an appointment is a contract, express or implied, and he who does not keep it breaks faith, as well as dishonestly uses other people's time, and thus inevitably loses character. We naturally come to the conclusion that the person who is careless about time, will be careless about business, and that he is not the one to be trusted with the transaction of matters of importance. When Washington's secretary excused him¬ self for the lateness of his attendance, and laid the blame upon his watch, his master quietly said, " Then you must get another watch, or I another secretary." The unpunctual man is a general disturber of others' peace and serenity. Everybody with whom he has to do is thrown from time to time into a state of fever ; he Chap. VIII. PUNCTUALITY. 265 is systematically late ; regular only in his irregularity. He conducts his dawdling as if upon a system ; always arrives at his appointment after time ; gets to the railway station after the train has started ; and posts his letter when the box has closed. Business is thus thrown into confusion, and everybody concerned is put out of tem¬ per. It will generally be found that the men who are thus habitually behind time, are as habitually behind success ; and the world generally casts them aside to swell the ranks of the grumblers and the railers against fortune. The late Mr. Tegg, the publisher, who rose from a very humble position in life, once said of himself, that he had lodged with beggars, and had the honor of pre¬ sentation to royalty," and that he attributed his success in life mainly to three things,— punctuality as to time, self-reliance, and integrity in word and deed. It is astonishing how much an energetic man of busi¬ ness can accomplish by methodical working, and by the careful economy of his time. It would even appear as if, the more business he had, the more leisure he had for other affairs. It is said of Lord Brougham, that when he was in the füll career of his profession, presiding in the House of Lords and the Court of Chancery, he found time to be at the head of some eight or ten public associations, — one of which was the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge,—and that he was most punctual in his attendances, always contriving to be in the chair when the hour of meeting had arrived. In addition to these ordinary working qualities, the business man of the highest class requires sound dis¬ cretion, quick perception, and firmness in the execution of his plans. Business tact is also important, and though this is partly the gift of nature, it is yet capa- 12 266 ROUTINE AND RJÍD-TAPEISM. ohap. vni ble of being cultivated and developed by observation and experience. Men of this quality are quick to see the right mode of action, and if they have decision of f purpose, are prompt to carry out their undertakings to a successful issue. Such men give a new life to in¬ dustry; they put their character into every work that they enter upon, and are among the most powerful agents in the progress of society in all times. It will be observed from what we have said that the successful conduct of business consists in a great meas¬ ure in assiduous attention to matters of detail, in short, to what is ordinarily called Routine, and sometimes Red- Tapeism. Accuracy, discipline, punctuality, method, payment of debts, organization, all are routine. No doubt a blind, stupid routine causes hindrance to busi¬ ness, but a wise routine greatly facilitates it, whilst it is the only check to rashness and incapacity on the part of individuals, where the business of large departments has to be conducted. In the case of a business in the hands of a single person, such as that of a merchant or manufacturer, there will be greater promptitude in action, and less need for the interposition of checkS; because no one has to be consulted but the master himself; and he is stimulated by self-interest to watch closely all the outgoings and incomings of his concern. But where self-interest is less active, and where a large business, as of a corporation or a government, is man¬ aged by em'ployês^ routine necessarily becomes compli¬ cated by checks ; for, though the large majority of men pj'e honest, it is absolutely necessary that provision should be made against the possible rogue or the jobber. The late Duke of Wellington was a great routinist, because he was a first-rate man of business. He pos- OíiAV. VIII. THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 267 Bessed in perfection all the qualities which constitute onei He was a most punctual man ; he never received a lettei? without acknowledging or replying to it ; and he habit«' ually attended to the minutest details of all matters trusted to him, whether civil or military. His business faculty was his genius, the genius of common sense j and it is not perhaps saying too much to aver, that it was because he was a first-rate man of business that he never lost a battle. While a subaltern officer, he became dissatisfied with the slowness of his promotion, and having passed from the infantry to the cavalry twice, and back again, without advancement, he applied to Lord Camden, then Viceroy of Ireland, for employment in the Revenue or Treasury Board. Had he succeeded, no doubt he would have made a first-rate head of a department, as he would have made a first-rate merchant or manufacturer. But his application failed, and he remained with the army to become one of the very greatest of British generals. The Duke began his active military career under the Duke of York and General Walmoden, in Flanders and Holland, where he learned amidst misfortunes and de¬ feats, how bad business arrangements and bad genera^ ship serve to ruin the morale of an army. Ten years after entering the army we find him a colonel in India, reported by his superiors as an officer of indefatigable energy and application. He entered into the minutest details of the service, and sought to raise the discipline ©f his men to the highest standard. " The regiment of Colonel Welles]ey," wrote General Harris in 1799, "is a model regiment ; on the score of soldierly bearing, discipline, instruction, and orderly behavior it is above all praise.*' Thus qualifying himself for posts of greater 268 WELLINGTON IN INDIA. Chap. Vm confidence, he was shortly after nominated governor of the capital of Mysore. In the war with the MahrattaSj he was first called upon to try his hand at generalship ; md at thirty-four he won the memorable battle of As«^ s^aye, with an army composed of 1,500 British and 5,000 sepoys, over 20,000 Mahratta infantry and 30,000 cav¬ alry. But so brilliant a victory did not in the least disturb his equanimity, or affect the perfect honesty of his character. Shortly after this event, the opportunity occurred for exhibiting his admirable practical qualities as an admin¬ istrator. Placed in command of an important district immediately after the capture of Seringapatam, his first object v/as to establish rigid order and discipline among his own men. Flushed with victory, the troops were found riotous and disorderly. " Send me the provost- marshal," said he, " and put him under my orders ; till some of the marauders are hung, it is impossible to expect order or safety." This rigid severity of Wel¬ lington in the field, though it was the dread, proved the salvation of his troops in many campaigns. His next step was to reestablish the markets and reopen the sources of supply. General Harris wrote to the Gov ernor-General, strongly commending Colonel Wellesley for the perfect discipline he had established, and for his "judicious and masterly arrangements in respect to supplies, which opened an abundant free market, and iaspired confidence into dealers of every description." The same close attention to, and mastery of detailsj characterized him throughout his Indian career; and it is remarkable that one of his very ablest despatches to Lord Olive, full of practical information as to the con- !^uct of the campaign, was written whilst the «olumn ho Chap. VIII. THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 2m commanded was crossing the Toombuddra, in the face oí:' the vastly superior army of Doondiah, posted on the opposite bank, and when a thousand matters of the deep est interest were pressing upon the commander's mind But it was one of his most remarkable characteristics thus to be able to withdraw himself temporarily from the business immediately in hand, and to bend his full powers upon the consideration of matters totally distinct; even the most difficult circumstances on such occasions failing to embarrass or intimidate him. Returned to England wdth a reputation for generalship, Sir Arthur Wellesley met with immediate employment. In 1808 a corps of 10,000 men destined to liberate Por¬ tugal was placed under his charge. He landed, fought and won two battles, and signed the Convention of Cintra. After the death of Sir John Moore, he was intrusted with the command of a new expedition to Portugal. Wellington was fearfully overmatched throughout these Peninsular campaigns. From 1809 to 1813 he never had more than 30,000 British troops under his command, at a time when there stood opposed to him in the Penin¬ sula, some 350,000 French, mostly veterans, led by some of Napoleon's ablest generals. How was he to contend against such immense forces with any fair prospect of success ? His clear discernment and strong common sense soon taught him that he must adopt a different policy from that of the Spanish generals, who were in^ variably beaten and dispersed whenever they ventured to offer battle in the open plains. He perceived he had yet to create the army that was to contend against the Fiench, with any reasonable chance of success. Accordingly, after the battle of Talavera in 1809, when he found himself encompassed on all sides by 5?70 THE DUKE OF WELLING!GIN. UHAP. VIIÎ superior forces of French, he retired into Portugal, there to carry out the settled policy on which he had by this time determined. It was, to organize a Portuguese army under British oíRcers, and teach them to act in combinao tion with his own troops, in the mean time avoiding ths peril of a defeat by declining all engagements. He would thus, he conceived, destroy the morale of the French, who could not exist without victories ; and when his army was ripe for action, and the enemy demoralized, he would then fall upon them with all his might. The extraordinary qualities displayed by Lord Wel¬ lington throughout these immortal campaigns, can only be appreciated after a perusal of his despatches, which con¬ tain the unvarnished tale of the manifold ways and means by which he laid the foundations of his success. Never was man more tried by difficulty and opposition, arising not less from the imbecility, falsehood, and intrigues of the British government of the day, than from the self¬ ishness, cowardice, and vanity of the people he went to save. It may, indeed, be said of him, that he sustained the war in Spain by his individual firmness and self- reliance, which never failed him even in the midst of his greatest discouragements. He had not only to 'fight Napoleon's veterans, but also to hold in check the Span¬ ish juntas and the Portuguese regency. He had tha utmost difficulty in obtaining provisions and clothing for his troops ; and it will scarcely be credited that, while engaged with the enemy in the battle of Talavera, tha Spaniards, who ran away, fell upon the baggage of the British army, and the ruffians actually plundered itl These and other vexations the Duke bore with a sublime patienta and self-control, and held on his course, in the face oí ingratitude, treachery, and apposition, with io CtíAP. VIII. THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 27> domitable firmness. He neglected nothing, and attended to every important detail of business himself. When he found that food for his troops was not to be obtained from England, and that he must rely upon his own re¬ sources for feeding them, he forthwith commenced busi¬ ness as a corn-merchant on a large scale, in copartnery with the British Minister at Lisbon. Commissariat bills were created, with which grain was bought in the ports of the Mediterranean and in South America. When he had thus filled his magazines, the overplus was sold to the Portuguese, who w^ere greatly in want of provisions He left nothing whatever to chance, but provided for every contingency. He gave his attention to the minut¬ est details of the service ; and was accustomed to con¬ centrate his whole energies, from time to time, on such apparently ignominious matters as soldiers' shoes, camp- kettles, biscuits, and horse-fodder. His magnificent busi¬ ness qualities were everywhere felt ; and there can be no doubt that, by the care with which he provided for evary contingency, and the personal attention which he gave to every detail, he laid the foundations of his great success."* By such means he transformed an army of raw levies into the best soldiers in Europe, with whom he declared it to be possible to go anywhere and do any¬ thing. We have already referred to his remarkable power of abstracting himself from the work, no matter how engrossing, immediately in hand, and concentrating his energies upon the details of some entirely different busi- ^ The recently published correspondence of Napoleon with Iiis orother Joseph, and the Memoirs of the Duke of Eagusa, abundanr.y confirm this view. The Duke overthrew Napoleon by the superioritji? of his routine. He used to say that, if he knew anything at all, % ^ew how to feed an armv. Ë72 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. Chap.VÏII ness. Thus Napier relates that it was while he was preparing to fight the battle of Salamanca that he had to expose to the Ministers at home the futility of relying upon a loan ; it was on the heights of San Christovah on the field of battle itself^ that he demonstrated the absurdity of attempting to establish a Portuguese lank 5 it was in the trenches of Burgos that he dissected FunchaFs scheme of finance, and exposed the folly of attempting the sale of church property ; and on each occasion, he showed himself as well acquainted with these subjects as with the minutest detail in the mech¬ anism of armies. Another feature in his character, showing the upright man of business, was his thorough honesty. Whilst Soult ransacked and carried away with him from Spain numerous pictures of great value, Wellington did not appropriate to himself a single farthing's worth of prop¬ erty. Everywhere he paid his way, even when in the enemy's country. When he had crossed the French frontier, followed by 40,000 Spaniards, who sought to " make fortunes " by pillage and plunder, he first re¬ buked their officers, and then, finding his efforts to restrain them unavailing, he sent them back into theii own country. It is a remarkable fact, that even in France, the peasantry fled from their own countrymen, and carried their valuables within the protection of the British lines ! At the very same time, Wellington was writing home to the British Ministry, "We are over, whelmed with debts, and I can scarcely stir out of m^ house on account of public creditors waiting to demand [)ayment of what is due to them." Jules Maurel, in his estimate of the Duke's character, says, "Nothing can be grander or more nobly original than this admission. CîHAv. VIII HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY, 273 This old soldier, after thirty years' service, this iron man and victorious general, established in an enemy's country at the head of an immense army, is afraid of his credi tors ! This is a kind of fear that has seldom troubled the mind of conquerors and invaders ; and I doubt if the annals of war could present anything comparable to this sublimé simplicity." But the Duke himself, had the matter been put to him, would most probably have dis¬ claimed any intention of acting either grandly or nobly in the matter; merely regarding the punctual payment of his debts as the best and most honorable mode of con ducting his business. The truth of the good old maxim, that " Honesty is the best policy," is upheld by the daily experience of life ; uprightness and integrity being found as successful in business as in everything else. As Hugh Miller's worthy uncle used to advise him, " In all your dealings give your neighbor the cast of the bauk, — 'good measure, heaped up, and running over,' — and you will not lose by it in the end." A well-known brewer of beer attributed his success to the liberality with which he used his malt. Going up to the vat and tasting it, he would say, Still rather poor, my lads ; give it another cast of the malt." The brewer put his character into his beer, and it proved generous accordingly, obtaining a reputation in England, India, and the colonies, which laid the foundation of a large fortune. Integrity of word and deed ought to be the very corner-stone of all business transactions. To the tradesman, the merchant, and manufacturer, it should be what honor is to the soldier, and charity to the Christian. In the humblest calling there will always be found scope for the exercise of this uprightness of character. Hugh Miller speaks of the maso»" with whom he served his .8 12# 274 INTEGRITY IN BUSINESS. Chap. Vllt preiiticeship, as one who his conscience into ever^ stone that he laid." So the true mechanic will pride himself upon the thoroughness and solidity of his work, and the high-minded contractor upon the honesty of per¬ formance of his contract in every particular. The up¬ right manufacturer will find not only honor and reputa¬ tion, but substantial success, in the genuineness of the article which he produces, and the merchant in the honesty of what he sells, and that it really is what il seems to be. Baron Dupin, speaking of the general probity of Englishmen, which he held to be a principal cause of their success, observed, " We may succeed for a time by fraud, by surprise, by violence ; but we can suc¬ ceed permanently only by means directly opposite. It is not alone the courage, the intelligence, the activity, of the merchant and manufacturer which maintain the superior¬ ity of their productions and the character of their coun¬ try ; it is far more their wisdom, their economy, and, above all, their probity. If ever in the British Islands the useful citizen should lose these virtues, we may be sure that, for England, as for every other country, the vessels of a degenerate commerce, repulsed from every shore, would speedily disappear from those seas whose surface they now cover with the treasures of the universe, bartered for the treasures of the industry of the three kingdoms." It must be admitted, that Trade tries character perhaps more severely than any other pursuit in life. It puts to the severest tests honesty, self-denial, justice, and truth¬ fulness ; and men of business who pass through such trials unstained, are perhaps worthy of as great honor as soldiers who prove their courage amidst the fire and perils of battle. And, to the credit of the multitudes of Chap VIII. INTEGRITY IN BUSINESS. 275 men engaged in the various departments of trade, we think it must be admitted that on the whole they pasa through their trials nobly. If we reflect but for a mo- inent on the vast amount of wealth daily intrusted even to subordinate persons, who themselves probably earn biit a bare competency, — the loose cash which is con¬ stantly passing through the hands of shopmen, agents, brokers, and clerks in banking houses, — and note how comparatively few are the breaches of trust which occui amidst all this temptation, it will probably be admitted that this steady daily honesty of conduct is most honor¬ able to human nature, if it do not even tempt us to be proud of it. The same trust and confidence reposed by men of business in each other, as implied by the system of Credit, which is mainly based upon the principle of honor, would be surprising if it were not so much a mat¬ ter of ordinaiy practice in business transactions. Dr. Chalmers has well said, that the implicit trust with which merchants are accustomed to confide in distant agents, separated from them perhaps by half the globe, — often consigning vast wealth to persons, recommended only by their character, whom perhaps they never saw, — is probably the finest act of homage which men can render to one another. Although common honesty is still happily in the ascendant amongst common people, and the general bush ness community of England is still sound at heart, put^ ting their honest character into their respective callings, there are unhappily, as there have been in all times, but too many instances of fiagrant dishonesty and fraud, exhibited by the unscrupulous, the over-speculative, and the iiitenseiy selfish, in their haste to be rich. Theia tradesmen who adulterate, contractors who " scamp * 376 DISHONEST TRADERS. ' Chap Vllf, nianufactüiers wlio give us shoddy instead of wool; "dressing" instead of cotton, cast-iron tools instead of steel, needles without eyes, razors made only "to sell," and swindled fabrics in many shapes. But these we must hold to be the exceptional cases, of low-minded and grasping men, who, though they may gain wealth which they probably cannot enjoy, will never gain an honest character, nor secure that without which wealth is nothing, —a satisfied conscience. "The rogue cozened not me, but his own conscience," said Bishop Latimer of a cutler who made him pay twopence for a knife not worth a penny. Money, earned by screwing, cheating, and over¬ reaching, may for a time dazzle the eyes of the unthink¬ ing; but the bubbles blown by unscrupulous rogues, when full-blown, usually glitter only to burst. The Sad- leirs. Dean Pauls, and Redpaths, for the most part, come to a sad end even in this world ; and though the success¬ ful swindles of others may not be " found out," and the gains of their roguery may remain with them, it will be as a curse and not as a blessing. It is possible that the scrupulously honest man may not grow rich so fast as the unscrupulous and dishonest one ; but the success will be of a truer kind, earned without fraud or injustice. And even though a man should for a time be unsuccessful, still he must be honest ; better lose all and save character. For character is itself a fortune; and if the high-principled man will but hold on his way courageously, success will surely come, — nor will the highest reward of all be withheld from him. Words» worth well describes the " Happy Warrior," as he " Who comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; Aud therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait ubap. VIH. DAVID BARCLAY. 277 For wealfh, or honor, or for worldly state; Whom they must follow, on whose head must fall. Like showers of manna, if they come at all." As ail example of the high-minded mercantile man, trained in upright habits of business, and distinguished fof justice, truthfulness, and lionesty of dealing in all things, the career of the well-known David Barclay, grandson of Hobert Barclay, of Ury, the author of the celebrated " Apology for the Quakers," may be briefly referred to. For many years he was the head of an extensive house in Cheapside, chiefly engaged in the American trade; but like Granville Sharp, he entertained so strong an opinion against the war with our American colonies, that he determined to retire altogether from the trade. Whilst a merchant, he was as much distinguished by his talents, knowledge, integrity, and power, as he afterwards was for his patriotism and muniflcent philanthropy. He was a mirror of truthfulness and honesty; and, as became the good Christian and true gentleman, his word ^vas always held to be as good as his bond. His position, and his high cliaracter, induced the Ministers of the day on many occasions to seek his advice ; and, when examined before the House of Commons on the subject of the American dispute, his views were so clearly expressed, and his advice was so strongly justified by the reasons stated by him, that Lord North publicly acknowledged that he had derived more information from David Bar¬ clay than from all others east of Temple Bar. On retir¬ ing from business, it was not to rest in luxurious ease, but to enter upon new labors of usefulness for others. With ample means, he felt that he still owed to society the ^uty of a great example. He founded a house of im dustry near his residence at Walthamstow, which he sup^ 278 DAVID BAECLAY, Chap. VIH porte 1 at a large cost for several years, until at length he succeeded in rendering it a source of comfort as well as independence to the well-disposed families of the poor in that neighborhood. When an estate in Jamaica fell to liim, he determined, though at a cost of some 10,000Z., at once to give liberty to the whole of the slaves on the property. He sent out an agent, who hired a ship, and he had the little slave community transported to one of the free American States, where they settled down and prospered. Mr. Barclay had been assured that the negroes were too ignorant and too barbarous for freedom, and it was thus that he determined practically to demon¬ strate the fallacy of the assertion. In dealing with his accumulated savings, he made himself the executor of his own will, and instead of leaving a large fortune to be divided among his relatives at his death, he extended to them his munificent aid during his life, watched and aided them in their respective careers, and thus not only laid the foundation, but lived to see the maturity, of some of the largest and most prosperous business concerns in the metropolis. We believe that to this day some of our most eminent merchants, — sucti as the IbrurneyvS, nafi burys, and Buxtons, — are proud to acknowledge with gratitude the obligations they owe to David Barclay for the means of their first introduction to life, and for the benefits of his counsel and countenance in the early stages of their career. Such a man stands as a mark of the mercantile honesty and integrity of his country, and is a model and example for men of business in all time tç ísome. üHAr IX. EIGHT USE OF MONEY. CHAPTER IX. MONET, — USE AND ABUSE. Not for to hide it in a hedge, Nor for a train attendant, But for the glorious privilege Of being independent." — Burns, " Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry."— How a man uses money — makes it, saves it, and Bpends it — is perhaps one of the best tests of his practi¬ cal wisdom. Although money ought by no means to be regarded as the chief end of man^s life, neither is it a trifling matter, to be held in philosophic contempt, rep¬ resenting as it does to so large an extent, the means of physical comfort and social well-being. Indeed, some of the finest qualities of human nature are intimately related to the right use of money, such as generosity, honesty, justice, and self-sacrifice ; as well as the prac¬ tical virtues of economy and providence. On the other hand, there are their counterparts of avarice, fraud, in¬ justice, and selfishness, as displayed by inordinate lovers of gain ; and the vices of thriftlessness, extravagance, and improvidence, on the part of those who misuse and abuse the means intrusted to them. " So that," as is wisely observed by Henry Taylor in his thoughtful " Notes from ' Life," " a right measure and manner in getting, saving, spending, giving, taking, lending, bcr 280 SELF-DENIAL. Chap. IX. rowing, and bequeathing, would almost argue a perfect man." Comfort in worldly circumstances is a condition which every man is justified in striving to attain by all worthy means. It secures that physical satisfaction which is necessary for the culture of the better part of his na¬ ture ; and enables him to provide for those of his own household, without which, says the Apostle, a man is " worse than an infidel." Nor ought the duty to be any the less indifferent to us, that the respect which our fel low-men entertain for us in no slight degree depends upon the manner in which we exercise the opportuni¬ ties which present themselves for our honorable ad¬ vancement in life. The very effort required to be made to succeed in life with this object, is of itself an educa¬ tion ; stimulating a man's sense of self-respect, bringing out his practical qualities, and disciplining him in the exercise of patience, perseverance, and such like vir¬ tues. The provident and careful man must necessarily be a thoughtful man, for he lives not merely for the pres¬ ent, but with provident forecast makes arrangements for the future. He must also be a temperate man, and ex¬ ercise the virtue of self-denial, than which nothing is so much calculated to give strength to the character. John Sterling says truly, that " the worst education which teaches self-denial, is better than the best which teaches everything else, and not that." The Romans rightly employed the same word (virtus) to designate courage, which is in a physical sense what the other is in a moral; the highest virtue of all being victory over ourselves. What is the quality in which the improvident classes of this country are so deficient as self-denial, — the Chap. IX SELF-IMPOSED TAXATION. 281 ability to sacrifice a small present gratification for a future good ? Tho^e classes who work the hai'dest might naturally be expected to value the most the money which they earn. Yet the readiness with which so many are accustomed to eat up and drink up their earnings as they go, renders them to a great extent ab¬ solutely helpless and dependent upon the frugal. There are large numbers of men among us, who, though enjoy¬ ing sufficient means of comfort and independence, are often found to be barely a day's march ahead of actual want when a time of pressure occurs ; and hence a great cause of social helplessness and suffering. On one oc¬ casion a deputation waited on Lord John Russell, re¬ specting the taxation levied on the working classes of the country, when the noble lord took the opportunity of remarking, " You may rely upon it that the govern¬ ment of this country durst not tax the working classes to anything like the extent to which they tax themselves in their expenditure upon intoxicating drinks alone ! " * Of all great public questions, there is none more important than this, — no great work of reform call¬ ing more loudly for laborers. But it must be admitted that " self-denial and self-help " would make a poor rallying cry for the hustings ; and it is to be feared that the patriotism of this day has but little regard for such common things as individual economy and providence, * The whole expenses of conducting the government of Great Britain, at home and abroad, for the year ending the 31st March, 1859, including the excessive cost of the army and navy in that year, che courts of justice, and all the public departments of state (exclu¬ sive only of the interest on the national debt), amounted to 34,136,399/.; whereas it is computed by Mr. Porter, that we expend annually up¬ wards sf forty-eight millions sterling on intoxicating drinks and tobacco, the principal part of which is borne by the working classes 282 THE IMPROVIDENT GLASSES HELPLESS. Chap. IX, although it is by the practice of such virtues only that the genuine independence of the industrial classes is to be secured. " Prudence, frugality, and good manage* ment," said Samuel Drew, the philosophical shoemaker, are excellent artists for mending bad times ; they oc¬ cupy but little room in any dwelling, but would furnish a more effectual remedy for the evils of life than any Reform Bill that ever passed the Houses of Parliament." Socrates said, " Let him that would move the world mov6 first himself." Or, as the old rhyme runs, — * If every one would see To his own reformation, How very easily You might reform a nation.'* It is, however, generally felt to be a far easier thing to reform the constitution in Church and State than to re¬ form the least of our own bad habits ; and in such mat¬ ters it is usually found more agreeable to our tastes, as it certainly is the common practice, to begin with our neigh¬ bors, rather than with ourselves. Any class of men that lives from hand to mouth will ever be an inferior class. They will necessarily remain impotent and helpless, hanging on to the skirts of so^ ciety, the sport of times and seasons. Having ho re^ spect for themselves, they will fail in securing the respect of others. In commercial crises, such men must inevita¬ bly go to the wall. Wanting that husbanded power whick a store of savings, no matter how small, invariably gives them, they will be at every man's mercy, and, if pos¬ sessed of right feelings, they cannot but regard with fear and trembling the future possible fate of their wives and children. "The world," once said Mr. Cobden to the working men of Huddersfield, " has always been divided €haf. IX. ADVICE OF MR. BRIGHT. 283 into two classes, — those who have saved, and those who have spent, — the thrifty and the extravagant. The building of all the houses, the mills, the bridges, and the ships, and the accomplishment of all other great works which have rendered man civilized and happy, has been done by the savers, the thrifty ; and those who have wasted their resources have always been their slaves. It has been the law of nature and of Provi¬ dence, that this should be so ; and I were an impostor if I promised any class that they would advance them¬ selves if they were improvident, thoughtless, and idle." Equally sound was the advice given by Mr. Bright to an assembly of working men at Rochdale, in 1847, when, after expressing his belief that " so far as hon¬ esty was concerned, it was to be found in pretty equal amount among all classes," he used the following words ; "There is only one way that is safe for any man, or any number of men, by which they can maintain their present position if it be a good one, or raise themselves above it if it be a bad one, — that is, by the practice of the virtues of industry, frugality, temperance, and hon¬ esty. There is no royal road by which men can raise themselves from a position which they feel to be uncom¬ fortable and unsatisfactory, as regards their mental or physical condition, except by the practice of those vir¬ tues by which they find numbers amongst them are con¬ tinually advancing and bettering themselves. What i.s It that has made, that has in fact created, the middle class in this country, but the virtues to which I have alluded ? There was a time when there was hardly any class in England, except the highest, that was equal in condition to the poorest class at this moincínt. How is it that the hundreds of thousands of men, now exist 284 WHAT WORKING MEN MIGHT BE. CiiAr. IX ing in this our country, of the middle class, are educatetli comfortable, and enjoying an amount of happiness and independence, to which our forefathers were "wholly unaccustomed? Why, by the practice of those very virtues ; for I- maintain that there has never been in any former age as much of these virtues as is now to be found amongst the great middle class of our commu¬ nity. When I speak of the middle class, I mean that class which is between the privileged class, the richest, and the very poorest in the community ; and I would recommend every man to pay no attention whatever to public writers or speakers, whoever they may be, who tell them that this class or that class, that this law or that law, that this government or that government, can do all these things for them. I assure you, after long reflection and much observation, that there is no way for the working classes of this country to improve their con¬ dition but that which so many of them have already availed themselves of, — that is, by the practice of those virtues, and by reliance upon themselves." There is no reason why the condition of the average workman in this country should not be a useful, honor¬ able, respectable, and happy one. The whole body of the "working classes might (with few exceptions) be as frugal, virtuous, well-informed, and well-conditioned as many individuals of the same class have already made themselves. What some men are, all without difficulty might be. Employ the same means, and the same re¬ sults will follow. That there should be a class of met' who live by their daily labor in every state is the ord> nance of God, and doubtless is a wise and righteous one but that this class should be otherwise than frugal, con tented, intelligent, and happy, is not the design of Provi Chap. IX, fílGH PURPOSES OF ECONOMY 285 dence, but springs solely from the weakness, self-indul¬ gence, and perverseness of man himself. Tlie healthy spirit of self-help created amongst working people would more than any other measure serve to raise them as a class, and this, not by pulling down others, but by level¬ ling them up to a higher and still advancing standard of religion, intelligence, and virtue. " All moral philoso¬ phy," says Montaigne, " is as applicable to a common and private life as to the most splendid. Every man carries the entire form of the human condition within him." Economièsing one's means with the mere object of hoarding is a very mean thing; but economizing for the purpose cf being independent is one of the soundest indi¬ cations of manly character ; and when practised with the object of providing for those who are dependent upon us, it assumes quite a noble aspect. It is the exhibition of self-help in one of its best forms. Francis Horner's father gavé him this good advice on first entering life: " Whilst I wish you to be comfortable in every respect, I cannot too strongly inculcate economy. It is a necessary virtue to all ; and however the shallow part of mankind may despise it, it certainly leads to independence, which is a grand object to every man of a high spirit." Burns's lines, above quoted, contain the right idea ; but unhappily his strain of song was higher than his practice ; his ideal better than his habit. When laid upon his death-bed he wrote to a friend, " Alas ! Clarke, I begin to feel the worst. Burns's poor widow, and half a dozen of his dear little ones helpless orphans; — there I am weak as a woman's tear. Enough of this ; — 'tis half my disease/' Every man ought so to contrive as to live within his means. This practice is of the very essence of honesty For if a man do not manage honestly to live within his 286 LIVING WITHIN THE MEANS. Chap. IX own means, he must necessarily be living dishonestly upon the means of somebody else. Those who are careless about personal expenditure, and consider merely their own gratification, without regard for the comfort of others, generally find out the real uses of money when it is too late. Though by nature generous, these thriftless per¬ sons are often driven in the end to do very shabby things. They dawdle with their money as with their time ; draw bills upon the future ; anticipate their earnings ; and are thus under the necessity of dragging after them a load of debts and obligations which seriously affect their action as free and independent men. The loose cash which many persons throw away uselessly, and worse, would often form a basis of fortune and independence for life. These wasters are their own worst enemies, though generally found amongst the ranks of those who rail at the injustice of " the world." But if a man will not be his own friend, how can he expect that others will ? Orderly men of moderate means have always something left in their pock¬ ets to help others ; whereas your prodigal and careless fellows who spend all never find an opportunity for help¬ ing anybody. It is poor economy, however, to be a scrub. Narrow-mindedness in living and in dealing is generally short-sighted, and leads to failure. The penny soul, it is said, never came to twopence. Generosity and liberality, like honesty, prove the best policy after all. Though Jenkinson, in the " Vicar of Wakefield," cheated his kind- hearted neighbor Flamborough in one way or another every year, Flamborough," he says, " has been regu iarly growing in riches, while I have come to poverty a^id B jail." And practical life abounds in cases of brillian/ results from a course of generous and honest policy. The proverb says that "an empty bag cannot stanö €fMAP. IX, THE DEBTOB A SLAVE. 2S? apriglit ; " neither can a man who is in debt» Debt makes everything a temptation. It lowers a man in sel:^ respect, places him at the mercy of his tradesman and his servant, and renders him a slave in many respects^ for he can no longer call himself his own master, nor boldly look the world in the face. It is also difficult for a man who is in debt to be truthful ; hence it is said that lying rides on debt's back. .The debtor has to frame excuses to his creditor for postponing payment of the money he owes him ; and probably also to contrive false¬ hoods. It is easy enough for a man who will exercise a healthy resolution, to avoid incurring the first obliga tion ; but the facility with which that has been incurred often becomes a temptation to a second ; and very soon the unfortunate borrower becomes so entangled that no late exertion of industry can set him free. The first step in debt is like the first step in falsehood ; almost involving the necessity of proceeding in the same course, debt following debt, as lie follows lie. Haydon, the painter, dated his decline from the day on wffiich he first borrowed money. He realized the truth of the proverb, " Who goes a-borrowing, goes a-sorrowing." The signifi¬ cant entry in his diary is : " Here began debt and obliga¬ tion, out of which I have never been and never shall be extricated as long as I live." Haydon had long been accustomed to borrow money from his poor father, which, however, he did not include in his obligations. Far dif¬ ferent wms the noble spirit displayed by Fichte, who said, when struggling with poverty, " For years I have never accepted a farthing from my parents, because I have seven sisters who are all young and in part uneducated s and because I have a father who, were I to allow hi would in his kindness bestow upon me that which be» 288 DR. JOHNSON ON DEBT. Chap. IX longs by right to his other children." For the same high-minded reason, Fichte even refused to accept pres' ents fj'om his poor parents. Dr. Johnson held that early debt is ruin. His words on the subject are weighty, and worthy of being held in remembrance. " Do not," said he, " accustom your¬ self to consider debt only as an inconvenience ; you will find it a calamity. Poverty takes away so many means of doing good, and produces so much inability to resist evil, both natural and moral, that it is by all virtuous means to be avoided. . . . Let it be your first care, then, not to be in any man's debt. Resolve not to be poor ; whatever you have, spend less. Poverty is a great en¬ emy to human happiness ; it certainly destroys liberty, and it makes some virtues impracticable and others ex¬ tremely difficult. Frugality is not only the basis of quiet, but of beneficence. No man can help others that wants help himself ; we must have enough before we have to spare." It is the bounden duty of every man to look his affairs in the face, and to keep an account of his incomings and outgoings in money-matters. The exercise of a little simple arithmetic in this way will be found of great value. Prudence requires that we shall pitch our scale of living a degree below our means, rather than up to them ; but this can only be done by carrying out faithfully a plan of jiving by which both ends may be made to meet. John Locke strongly advised this course : " Nothing," said- he, "is liKclier to keep a man within compass than having constantly before his eyes the state of his affairs in a regular course of account." The Duke of Wellington kept an accurate detailed account of all the moneys re¬ ceived and expended by him, " I make a point," said he Chap. IX. EARLY STRUGGLES OF JOHN JERVIS. 289 to Mr. Gleig, "of paying my own bills, and I advise every one to do the same ; formerly I used to trust a (confidential servant to pay them, but I was cured of that folly by receiving one morning, to my great surprise, duns of a year or two's standing. The fellow had specu¬ lated with my money, and left my bills unpaid." Talking of debt, his remark was, " It makes a slave of a man. I have often known what it was to be in want of money, but I never got into debt." Washington was as particu¬ lar as Wellington was, in matters of business detail ; and it is a remarkable fact, that he did not disdain to scruti¬ nize the smallest outgoings of his household,— determined as he was to live honestly within his means — even while holding the high office of President of the Amer¬ ican Union. Admiral Jervis, Earl St. Vincent, has told the story of his early struggles, and, amongst other things, of his de¬ termination to keep out of debt. " My father had a very large family," said he, " with limited means. He gave me twenty pounds at starting, and that was all he ever gave me. After I had been a considerable time at the station [at sea], I drew for twenty more, but the bill came back protested. I was mortified at this rebuke, and made a promise, which I have ever kept, that I would never draw another bill without a certainty of its being paid. I immediately changed my mode of living, quitted my mess, lived alone, and took up the ship's allowance, which I found quite sufficient ; washed and mended my own clothes ; made a pair of trousers out of the ticking of my bed; and having by these means saved as much money as would redeem my honor, I took up my bill ; and from that time to this Î have taken care to keep within my means," Jervis foi' six years endured T 13 290 BEGINNING WELL. Chap. iX pinching privation, hut preserved his integrity, studied his profession with success, and gradually and steadily rose by merit and bravery to the highest rank. Samuel Drew's first lesson in economy is thus described by him¬ self: "When I was a boy, I somehow got a few pence, and coming into St. Austell on a fair day, laid out all on a purse. My empty purse often reminded me of ray folly ; and the recollection has since been as useful to me as Franklin's whistle was to him." It is a great point for young men to begin well ; for it is in the beginning of life that that system of conduct is adopted, which soon assumes the force of Habit. Begin well, and the habit of doing well will become quite as easy as the habit of doing badly. Well begun is half ended, says the proverb ; and a good beginning is half the battle. Many promising young men have irretrievably injured themselves by a first false step at the commence¬ ment of life ; while others, of much less promising talents, have succeeded simply by beginning well, and going on¬ ward. The good practical beginning is, to a certain ex¬ tent, a pledge, a promise, and an assurance, of the ulti¬ mate prosperous issue. There is many a poor creature, now crawling through life, miserable himself and the cause of sorrow to others, who might have lifted up his head and prospered, if, instead of merely satisfying him¬ self with resolutions of well-doing, he had actually gone to work and made a good practical beginning. Too many are, however, impatient of results. They are not satisfied to begin where their fathers did, bui where they left off. They think to enjoy the fruits of industry without working for them. They cannot wait for the results of labor and application, but forestall ih'ur, oy too early indulgence. A worthy Scotch couple, when Chap. IX. LIVING TOO HIGH. 291 asked how their son had broken down so early in life, gave the follo\7Íng explanation : " When we began life together, we worked hard, and lived upon porridge and such like, gradually adding to our comforts as our means improved, until we were able at length to dine off a bit of roast meat and sometimes a boilt chuckie (or fowl) | but as for Jock, our son, he began where we had left olF, — he began wV the chuckie firsts The same illustration will apply to higher conditions of life than that of this humble pair. Mr. Hume hit the mark when he once stated in the House of Commons — though his words were followed by " laughter " — that the tone of living in England is altogether too high. Middle-class people are too apt to live up to their incomes, if not beyond them ; affecting a degree of " style " which is most unhealthy in its effect upon society at large. There is an ambition to bring up boys as gentlemen, or rather " genteel " men ; though the result frequently is, only to make them gents. They acquire a taste for dress, style, luxuries, and amusements, which can never form any solid foundation for manly or gentlemanly character ; and the result is, that we have a vast number of gingerbread young gentry thrown upon the world, w^ho remind one of the abandoned hulls some¬ times picked up at sea, with only a monkey on board. There is a dreadful ambition abroad for being " gen¬ teel." We keep up appearances, too often at the expense of honesty ; and, though we may not be rich, yet we must seem to be so. We must be " respectable," though anly in the meanest sense, — in mere vulgar outward fthow. We have not the courage to go patiently onward m the condition of life in which it has pleased God to mil us ; but must needs live in some fashionable state to 292 SIR CHARLES NAPIER ON DEBT. Chap. IX, whicli we ridiculously please to call ourselves^ and all to gratify the vanity of that unsubstantial genteel world of which we form a part. There is a constant struggle and pressure for front seats in the social amphitheatre in the midst of which all noble self-denying resolve is trodden down, and many fine natures are inevitably crushed to death. What waste, what misery, what bankruptcy, come from all this ambition to dazzle others with the glare of apparent worldly success, we need not describe. The mischievous results show themselves in a thousand ways, — in the rank frauds committed by men who dare to be dishonest, but do not dare to seem poor ; and in the ^ desperate dashes at fortune, in which the pity is not so much for those who fail, as for the hundreds of innocent families who are so often involved in their ruin. The late Sir Charles Napier, in taking leave of his command in India, did a bold and honest thing in pub¬ lishing his strong protest, embodied in his last General Order to the officers of the Indian army, against the "fast" life led by so many young officers in that service, involving them in ignominious obligations. Sir Charles strongly urged, in that famous document, — what had almost been lost sight of, — that " honesty is inseparable from the character of a thorough-bred gentleman ; " and that " to drink unpaid-for champagne and unpaid-for beer, and to ride unpaid-for horses, is to be a cheat, and not a gentleman." Men who lived beyond their means, and were summoned, often by their own servants, before Courts of Eequests for debts contracted in extravagant living, might be officers by virtue of their commissions, but they were not gentlemen. The habit of being con¬ stantly in debt, the Commander-in-Chief held, made men grow callous to the proper feelings of a gentleman. It Chap. IX. RESISTANCE TO TEMPTATION. 293 was not enough that an officer should be able to fight that an J bull-dog could do. But did he hold his word inviolate, — did he pay his debts? These were among the points of honor which, he insisted, illuminated the true gentleman's and soldier's career. As Bayard was of old, so would Sir Charles Napier have all British offi¬ cers to be. He knew them to be " without fear," but he would also have them " without reproach." There are, however, many gallant young fellows, both in India and at home, capable of mounting a breach on an emergency amidst belching fire, and of performing the most desperate deeds of valor, who nevertheless cannot or will not exer¬ cise the moral courage necessary to enable them to resist a petty temptation presented to their senses. They can¬ not utter their valiant " No," or " I can't afford it," to the invitations of pleasure and self-enjoyment ; and they are found ready to brave death rather than the ridicule of their companions. The young man, as he passes through life, advances through a long line of tempters ranged on either side of him; and the inevitable effect of yielding, is degra« dation in a greater or less degree. Contact with them tends insensibly to draw away from him some portion of the divine electric element with which his nature is charged; and Iiis only mode of resisting them is to utter and to act out his " No " manfully and resolutely. He must decide at once, not waiting to deliberate and bal¬ ance reasons; for the youth, like "the woman who de- liberates^ is lost." Many deliberate, without deciding; but " not to resolve, is to resolve." A perfect kr owl- edge of man is in the prayer, " Lead us not into temp¬ tation." But temptation will come to try the young man's strength ; and oace vielded to, the power to rcÄ*' 294 RESISTANCE TO TEMPTATION. Chap. IX grows weaker and weaker. Yield once, and a portion of virtue has gone. Resist manfullj, and the first de¬ cision will give strength for life; repeated, it will be« come a habit. It is in the outworks of the habits formed in earl J life that the real strength of the defence must lie ; for it has been wisely ordained, that the machinery of moral existence should be carried on principally through the medium of the habits, so as to save the wear and tear of the great principles within. It is good habits which insinuate themselves into the thousand inconsider¬ able acts of life, that really constitute by far the greater part of man's moral conduct. Hugh Miller has told how, by an act of youthful de¬ cision, he saved himself from one of the strong tempta¬ tions so peculiar to a life of toil. When employed as a mason, it was usual for his fellow-workmen to have an occasional treat of drink, and one day two glasses of whiskey fell to his share, which he swallowed. When he reached home, he found, on opening his favorite book, — " Bacon's Essays," — that the letters danced before his eyes, and that he could no longer master the sense. "The condition," he says, "into which I had brought myself was, I felt, one of degradation. I had sunk, by my own act, for the time, to a lower level of intelligence than that on which it was my privilege to be placed; and though the state could have been no very favorable one for forming a resolution, I in that hour determined that I should never again sacrifice my capacity of intel¬ lectual enjoyment to a drinking usage ; and with God's help, I was enabled to hold by the determination." It is such decisions as this that often form the turning- points in a man's life, and furnish the foundation of hid future cha;^acter. And this rock, on which Hugh Mil ÜHAP. IX. A HIGH STANDAED NECESSARY. 293 ler might have been wrecked, if he had not at the right moment put forth his moral strength to strike away from it, is one that youth and manhood alike need to be con¬ stantly on their guard against. It is about one of the worst and most deadly, as well as extravagant, tempta¬ tions which lie in the way of youth. Sir Walter Scots used to say " that of all vices drinking is the most in¬ compatible with greatness." Not only so, but it is in'' compatible with economy, decency, health, and honest living. When a youth cannot restrain, he must abstain. Dr. Johnson's case is the case of many. He said, re¬ ferring to bis own habits, " Sir, I can abstain ; but I can't be moderate." But to wrestle vigorously and successfully with any vicious habit, we must not merely be satisfied with con¬ tending on the low ground of worldly prudence, though that is of use, but take stand upon a higher moral ele¬ vation. Mechanical aids, such as pledges, may be of service to some, but the great thing is to set up a high standard of thinking and acting, and endeavor to strength¬ en and purify tne principles, as well as to reform the habits. For this purpose a youth must study himself, watch his steps, and compare his thoughts and acts with his rule. The more knowledge of himself he gains, the more humble will he be, and perhaps the less confident in his own strength. But the discipline will be found most valuable which is acquired by resisting small present gratifications to secure a prospective greater and highes one. It is the noblest work in self-education, — for " Real glory Springs from the silent conquest of ourselves, And without that the conqueror is But thô first slave." 296 PROVERBS ON MONEY-MAKING. Chap. IN. Many popular books have been written for the pur pose of communicating to the public the grand secret of making money. But there is no secret whatever about it, as the proverbs of every nation abundantly testify. " Many a little makes a meikie.'' — " Take care of the pennies and the pounds will take oare of them¬ selves." — "A penny saved is a penny gained."— " Dil¬ igence is the mother of good-luck."— " No pains no gains."—"No sweat no sweet." — "Sloth, the key of poverty." — "Work, and thou shalt have." —"He who will network, neither shall he eat." — "The world is his, who has patience and industry."—"It is too late to ^are when all is spent." — " Better go to bed supper- less than rise in debt." — " The morning hour has gold in its mouth." — " Credit keeps the crown of the cause¬ way." Such are specimens of the proverbial philosophy, embodying the hoarded experience of many generations, as to the best means of thriving in the world. They were current in people's mouths long before books were invented ; and like other popular proverbs, they were the first codes of popular morals. Moreover they have stood the test of time, and the experience of every day still bears witness to their accuracy, force, and soundness. The proverbs of Solomon are full of wisdom, as to the force of industry, and the use and abuse of money; " He that is slothful in work is brother to him that is a great waster." — " Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; con sider her ways and be wise." Poverty, he says, sliall come upon the idler, " as one that travelleth, and want as an armed man ; " but of the industrious and upright, "The hand of the diligent maketh rich." — "He who will not plough by reason of the cold, shall beg in harvest, and have nothing." — " The drunkan*^ and the O^AP IX. INDUSTRY ANT THRIFT 297 glutton shall come to poverty; and drows5»*^ss shal^ clothe a man with rags." — The slothful man sayf there is a lion in the streets." — " Seest thou a mau diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings.^ — But above all " It is better to get wisdom than gold for wisdom is better than rubies, and all the things thai may be desired are not to be compared to it." Simple industry and thrift will go far towards making any person of ordinary working faculty conaparatively independent in his means. Even a working man may be so, provided he will carefully husband his resources and watch the little outlets of useless expenditure. A penny is a very small matter, yet the comfort of thou sands of families depends upon the proper spending and saving of pennies. If a man allows the little pennies, the results of his hard work, to slip out of his fingers, — some to the beershop, some this way and some that; — he will find that his life is little raised above one of mere animal drudgery. On the other hand, if he take care of the pennies, — putting some weekly into a benefit society or an insurance fund, others into a savings-bank, and confiding the rest to his wife to be carefully laid out, with a view to the comfortable maintenance and education of his family,—:he will soon find that his at¬ tention to small matters will abundantly repay him, in increasing means, growing comfort at home, and a mind comparatively free from fears as to the future. If a working man have high ambition and possess richness in spirit, — a kind of wealth which far transcends al) mere worldly possessions, — he may not only help him¬ self; but be a profitable helper of others in his patb through life. That this is no impossible thing, even foi a common laborer in a workshop, may be illustrated bv 13=^ 298 CAREEß OF THOMAS WRIGHT Chai». IX the remarkable career of Thomas Wright, oí Manches^ ter, whose life affords only another proof of the powef of patient perseverance in well-doing, and of the influ«' ence which even the humblest person, who is diligent in improving his opportunities, may exercise for the ad¬ vantage of his fellow-creatures. It was scarcely to have been expected, that one of the most difficult and apparently impossible of things, the reclamation of criminals, should have been not only at¬ tempted, but accomplished, by a man working for weekly wages in a foundry ! Yet this work was done by Thorn as Wright when employed with the Messrs. Ormerod, at Manchester. Accident first directed his attention to the difficulty encountered by liberated convicts in return¬ ing to habits of honest industry. His mind was possessed by the subject ; and to remedy the evil became the pur¬ pose of his life. He did not neglect his work, for he honorably performed his duties as a foundry-man, and his working and business qualities were so highly prized by his employers, that he w^as gradually raised to the post of foreman of his shop. Nor did he neglect his family, for, upon comparatively small means, he respectably brought up a large family. Though he worked from six in the morning till six at night, still there were leisure min¬ utes that he could call his own, — more especially his Sundays, — and these he employed in the service of con¬ victed criminals ; a class then far more neglected than they are now. But a few minutes a day, well employed, can effect a great deal ; and it will scarcely be credited, that in ten years this ^vorking man, by steadfastly holding to his purpose, succeeded in rescuing not fewer than three hundred felons from continuance in a life of villany ! lie came to be regarded as the moral physician of th^ ÚHAP. IX. CAREER OF THOMAS WRIGHT. 299 Blancliester Old Bailey ; and when the Chaplain and all others failed, Thomas Wright often succeeded. Chihlrea he thus restored healed to their parents ; sons and daugh« ters otherwise lost, to their homes ; and many a returned convict did he contrive to settle down to honest and indus¬ trious pursuits. The task was by no means easy. It required money, time, energy, prudence, and above all, character, and the confidence which character invariably inspires. The most remarkable circumstance of all is, that Wright relieved many of these poor outcasts out of the comparatively small wages earned by him at foundry work. He did all this on an income which did not aver¬ age, during his working career, 100¿ per annum ; and yet, while he was able to bestow substantial aid on crim¬ inals, to whom he owed no more than the service of kind¬ ness which every human being ovv^es to another, he also maintained his own family in comfort, and was, by fru¬ gality and carefulness, enabled to lay by a store of savings against his approaching old age. Every week he appor¬ tioned his income with deliberate care ; so much for the indispensable necessaries of food .and clothing, so much for the landlord, so much for the schoolmaster, so much for the poor and needy; and the lines of distribution were resolutely observed. By such means did this hum¬ ble workman pursue his great work, with the results we have so briefly described. His career affords one of the most remarkable and striking illustrations of the force of purpose in a man, of the niight of small n^eans carefully and sedulously applied, and, above all, of the power which an energetic and upright character invariably ex¬ ercises upon the lives and conduct of others. There is no discredit, but honor, in every right walk of industry, whether it be in tilling the ground, making 600 ALL HONEST INDUSTRY HONORABLE. Chap. IX. tools, weaving fabrics, or selling the products behind a counter. A youth may handle a yard-stick, or measure a piece of ribbon ; and there will be no discredit in doing so, unless he allows his mind to have no higher range than the stick and ribbon ; to be as short as the one, and as narrow as the other. " Let not those blush who have^* said Fuller, " but those who have not a lawful calling." And Bishop Hall said, " Sweet is the destiny of all trades, whether of the brow or of the mind." Men who have raised themselves from a humble calling, need not be ashamed, but rather ought to be proud of the difficul¬ ties they have surmounted. The laborer on his feet stands higher than the nobleman on his knees. An American President, when asked what was his coat-of- arms, remembering that he had been a hewer of wood in his youth, replied, " A pair of shirt-sleeves." Lord Tenterden was proud to point out to his son the shop in which his father had shaved for a penny. A French doctor once taunted Flechier, Bishop of Nismes, who had been a tallow-chandler in his youth, with the meanness of his origin, to which Flechier replied, " If you had been born in the same condition that I was, you would still have been but a maker of candles." Some small spirits, ashamed of their origin, are always striving to conceal it, and by the very efforts they make to do so, betray them¬ selves ; like that worthy but stupid Yorkshire dyer, who, having gained his money by honest chimney-sweeping, and feeling ashamed of chimneys, built his house without one, sending all his smoke into the shaft of his dye-works. The benevolent Sir Thomas Bernard, one of the best practical philanthropists of his day, in his " Tracts for bettering the Condition of the Poor," makes honorable mention of " a very intelligent and valuable man, Mr Chap. IX AK ÎL1.ÛSTRIOUS SWEEP 801 David Porter, a master chimney-sweeper in WelbecS Street," who is another good illustration of the force of diligence and well-doing. In early boyhood Porter was kidnapped for a sweep ; the condition of climbing-boys at the time being one almost of slavery. The boy, however, had energy of body and mind, and survived the privations of his unfortunate class. At eighteen years of age he commenced business as a sweep on his own account. AVhen employment was slack in his trade, he sought and found it in others ; in summer and harvest time he went into Lincolnshire and worked at farm labor, always bring¬ ing home a little store of savings. But he did not neglect his mind ; above all, he did not forget the hardships en¬ dured by the poor little climbing-boys ; all of which he had himself passed through. He therefore devoted his leisure, — snatched from a busy life, — to write a treatise on the subject, which he printed and distributed amongst influential persons ; thereby initiating, as Granville Sharp had done, the movement which issued in the amelioration of the sufferings of this class. Mr. Porter, by his frugal¬ ity, industry, and application to business, eventually real¬ ized a large fortune, at the same time promoting the comforts of his boys and workmen in a manner altogether unknown and unusual at the time. On Sir Thomas Ber¬ nard asking Mr. Porter how he had succeeded in his business, and accumulated so large a fortune, he an¬ swered, " By never having an idle hour or an idle guinea." This was his whole secret. Nothing, however, is more common than energy^ in money-making, quite independent of any higher object than its accumulation. A man who devotes himself ta this pursuit, t)ody and soul, can scarcely fail to become rich. Very little brains will do ; spend less than yon 302 MERE MONEY-MAKING. CiiAP. IN eai'ii ; add guinea to guinea ; scrape and save ; and the pile of gold will graduallj rise. John Foster quoted a striking illustration of what this kind of determination will do in monej-making. A young man who ran through his patrimony, spending it in profligacy, was at length re¬ duced to utter ivant and despair. He rushed out of his house intending to put an end to his life, and stopped on arriving at an eminence overlooking what were once his estates. He sat down, ruminated for a time, and rose with the determination that he would recover them. He returned to the streets, saw a load of coals which had been shot out of a cart on to the pavement before a house, offered to carry them in, and was employed. He thus earned a few pence, requested some meat and drink as a gratuity, which was given him, and the pennies were laid by. Pursuing this menial labor, he earned and saved more pennies ; accumulated suificient to enable him to purchase some cattle, the value of which he understood, and these he sold to advantage. He now pursued money with a step as steady as time, and an appetite as keen as death ; advancing by degrees into larger and larger trans¬ actions, until at length he became rich. The result was, that he more than recovered his possessions, and died an inveterate miser. When he was buried, mere earth went to earth. With a nobler spirit, the same determination miiïht have enabled such a man to be a benefactor to others as well as to himself. But the life and its end in this case were alike sordid. The saving of money for the mere sake of it, is but ^ mean thing, even though earned by honest work ; but where earned by dice-throwing, or speculation, and with¬ out labor, it is still worse. To provide for others, and for OUI own comfort and independence in old age, is hon- ÖBAP. IX. TUE LOVE OF MONEY. orable, and greatly to be commended ; but to hoard for mere wealth's sake is the characteristic of the narrow- Houled and the miserly. It is against the growth of. this habit of inordinate saving, that the wise man needs most carefully to guard himself ; else, wdiat in youth was sim¬ ple economy, may in old age grow into avarice, and what was a duty in the one, may become a vice in the other. It is the love of money — not money itself— wliich is " the root of evil,"— a love which narrows and contracts the soul, and closes it against generous life and action. Hence, Sir Walter Scott makes one of his char¬ acters declare that " the penny siller slew mair souls than the naked sword slew bodies." It is one of the defects of business too exclusively followed, that it insensibly tends to a mechanism of character. The business man gets into a rut, and often does not look beyond it. If he liv es for himself only, he becomes apt to regard other human beings only in so far as they minister to his ends. Take a leaf from such men's ledger, and you have their life. It is said of one of our most eminent modem men of business — withal a scrupulously honorable man — whc spent his life mainly in money-making, and succeeded; that when upon his death-bed, he turned to his favorite daughter, and said solemnly to her, " Hasn't it been a mistake, ? " He had been thinking of the gooa wliich other men of his race had done, and which he might have done, had he not unhappily found exclusive money-making to be a mistake when it was too late to remedy it ; and, when he must leave behind him his huge pile of gold, the accumulation of which had been almost the sole object of his life. Worldly success, measured by the accumulation ci money, is nc doubt a very dazzling thing ; and all men âOi RICHES NO PROOF OF WORTH. Chap. la are naturally more or less the admirers of worldly suo cess. But though men of persevering, sharp, dexterous, and unscrupulous habits, ever on the watch to push op¬ portunities, may and do " get on " in the world ; yet it is quite possible that they may not possess the slight¬ est elevation of character, nor a particle of real great¬ ness. He who recognizes no higher logic than that of the shilling, may become a very rich man, and yet remain all the while an exceedingly poor creature. For riches are no proof whatever of moral worth j and their glitter often serves only to draw attention to the worthlessness of their possessor, as the glowworm's light reveals the grub. " In morals," says Mr. Lynch,^ "a penny may outweigh a pound, — may represent more industry and character. The money that wit¬ nesses of patient, inventive years of fair dealing and brave dealing, proves Svorth' indeed. But neither a man's means nor his worth are measurable by his money. If he has a fat purse and a lean heart, a broad estate and a narrow understanding, what will his 'means' do for him, — what will his ' worth ' gain him ? " Let a man be what he will, it is the mind and heart that make a man poor or rich, miserable or happy ; for these are always stronger than fortune. The manner in which so many allow themselves to be sacrificed to their love of wealth, reminds one of the cupidity of the monkey, — that caricature of our species Jn Algiers, the Kabyle peasant attaches a gourd, well fi^ed, to a ti'se, and places within it some rice. The gourd has an opening merely sufficient to admit the monkey's paw. The creature comes to the tree by * "Lectures in aid of Self-Improvement;" a book somewLal didactic ill its mannerj but full of manly vigor and golden tb^ >ug.ht. Chap. IX. POWER OF MONEY OVER-ESTIMATED. 303 night, inserts his paw, and grasps his booty. He tries to draw it back, but it is clenched, and he has not the wisdom to unclench it. So there he stands till morn¬ ing, when he is caught, looking as foolish as may be, though with the prize in his grasp. The moral of this little story is capable of a very extensive application in life. The power of money is on the whole over-estimated« The greatest things which have been done for the world have not been accomplished by rich men, or by subscrip¬ tion lists, but by men generally of small pecuniary means. Christianity was propagated over half the world by men of the poorest class ; and the greatest thinkers, discov erers, inventors, and artists, have been men of moderate wealth, many of them little raised above the condition of manual laborers in point of worldly circumstances. And it will always be so. Riches are oftener an im¬ pediment than a stimulus to action ; and in many cases they are quite as much a misfortune as a blessing. The youth who inherits wealth, is apt to have life made too easy for him, and he soon grows sated with it, because he has nothing left to desire. Having no special object to struggle for, he finds time hang heavy on his hands ; he remains morally and spiritually asleep ; and his posi- ion in society is often no higher than that oí a polypus Dver which the tide floats. " His only labor is to kill the time, And labor dire it is, and weary woe. Yet the rich man, inspired by a right spirit, will spurn idleness as unmanly ; and if he bethink him of the re¬ sponsibilities which attach to the possession of wealth and property, he will feel even a higher call to work than men of poorer lot. This, however, must be ad- U 806 TRUE RESPECTABILÎTY. Chap. LÍ mltted to be by no means the practice of life. The gold' en mean of Agur's perfect prayer, is, perhaps, the besC lot. of all, if we did but know it : " Give me neither pov¬ erty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me." The late Joseph Brotherton left a fine motto to be re-» corded upon his monument in the Peel Park at Man¬ chester, — the declaration in his case being strictly true ; " My richness consisted not in the greatness of my posses¬ sions, but in the smallness of my wants." He rose, as we have seen, from the humblest station, that of a fac¬ tory boy, to an eminent position of usefulness, by the simple exercise of homely honesty, industry, punctuality, and self-denial. Down to the close of his life, when not attending Parliament, he did duty as minister in a small chapel in Manchester to which he was attached; and in all things he made it appear, to those who knew him in private life, that the glory he sought was not " to be seen of men," or to excite their praise, but to earn the con sciousness of discharging the every-day duties of life down to the smallest and humblest of them, in an honest upright, truthful, and loving spirit. " Respectability," in its best sense, is good. The re¬ spectable man is one worthy of regard, literally worth turn ing back to look at. But the respectability that consists in merely keeping up appearances is not worth looking at in any sense. Far better and more respectable is the good poor man than the bad rich one,— better the humble silent man than' the agreeable well-appointed rogue, who kee[)9 his gig. A well-balanced and well-stored mind, a lif(3 full or usefiil purpose, whatever the position oc<^upied in i may be, — is of far greater importance than average worldly respectability. The highest object of life we take to be, to form a manly character, and to work out the best Chap ÎX. TRUE RESPECTABILITY. 30? dí3\^elopment possible, of body and spirit, — of mind, con¬ science, heart, and soul. This is the end ; all else ought to be regarded but as the means. Accordingly, that is not the most successful life in which a man gets the most pleasure, the most money, the most power or place, honor or fame ; but that in which a man gets the most manhood, and performs the greatest amount of useful work and of human duty. Money is power after its sort, it is true ; but intelligence, public spirit, and moral virtue, are powers too, and far nobler ones. " Let others plead for pensions," wrote Lord Collingwood to a friend ; " I can be rich without money, by endeavoriog to be su¬ perior to everything poor. I would have my services to my country unstained by any interested motiv?^ ; and old Scott * and I can go on in our cabbage-garden without much greater expense than formerly." On another occa¬ sion he said, " I have motives for my conduct which I would not give in exchange for a hundred pensims." The making of a fortune may no doubt enable some })eople to " enter society," as it is called ; but to be es¬ teemed there, they must possess qualities of mind, n^s^nner^ or heart, else they are merely rich people, nothing ^ore. There are men " in society " now, as rich as Crcesus, who have no consideration extended towards them and elicit no respect. For why? They are but as money¬ bags . their only power is in their till. The men of mark in society, — the guides and rulers of opinion,^—> the. really successful and useful men, — are not necessa ^ His old gardener. Collingwood's favorite amusement was gar¬ dening. Shortly after the battle of Trafalgar a brother admiral called upon him, and, after searching for his lordship all over the garden, he at last discovered him, with old Scott, in the bottom of a deep trench *vhich they were busily employed in digging 308 TRUE RESPECTABILITY. Chap. IX. rily rich men ; but men of sterling character, of disciplined experience, and of moral excellence. Even the poor man like Thomas Wright, though he possess hut little of this world's goods, may, in the self-consciousness of a well-cultivated nature, of opportunities used and not abused, of a life spent to the best of his means and abil¬ ity, look down, without the slightest feeling of envy, upon the person of mere worldly success, the man of money bags and acres. CJblaPí JSis PHYSICAL CULT ÜBE. B09 CHAPTER X SELF-CULTURE, ^^Brery person has two educations, one which he receives from others, an# one, more important, which he gives to himself."— Gibbon. " These two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together. — manly dependence and manly independence, manly reliance and manly self* reliance."— Wordsworth. Self-culture includes the education or training of all parts of a man's nature ; the physical and moral, as well as the intellectual. Each must be developed, and yet each must yield something to satisfy the claims of the others. Cultivate the physical powers exclusively^ and you have an athlete or a savage; the moral only, and you have an enthusiast or a maniac ; the intellectual only, and you have a diseased oddity, it may be a mon¬ ster. It is only by wisely training all three together that the complete man can be formed. The ancients laid great stress on physical training, and a sound mind in a sound body was the end which they professed to aim at in their highest schools of culture. The Greek teachers were peripatetic, holding that young men should only learn what they could learn standing. The old English entertained a similar idea, embodied in the maxim, " The field in summer, the study in winter.*' Milton described himself as up and stirring early in the morning, — " in winter, often ere the sound of any bel? wakes man to labor or devotion ; in summer, as oft with NEGLECl OF BODILY EXERCISE. Chap. the bird that first rouses, or not much tardier, to read good authors, or to cause them to be read till the atten¬ tion be ready, or memory have its full fraught ; then, with clear and generous labor, preserving the body's health and hardiness, to render lightsome, clear, and not lumpish obedience to the mind, to the cause of religion, and our country's liberty." In his Tractate on Educa¬ tion " he recommends the physical exercise of fencing to young men, as calculated to " keep them healthy, nimble, strong, and well in breath, and also as the likeliest means to make them grow large and tall, and inspire them with a gallant and fearless courage," and he further urges that they should " be practised in all the locks and grips of wrestling, wherein Englishmen were \ront to excel." In our day, such exercises have somewhat fallen into disrepute, and education has become more exclusively mental ; very much to the detriment of the bodily health. The brain is cultivated at the expense of the members, and the physical is usually found in an inverse ratio to the intellectual appetite. Hence, in this age of progress, we find so many stomachs weak as blotting-paper,— hearts indicating " fatty degeneration," — unused, pithless hands, calveless legs and limp bodies, without any elastic spring in them. But it is not merely health that suffers by neglect and disuse of the bodily organs. The mind itself grows sickly and distempered, the pursuit of knowl¬ edge itself is impeded, and manhood becomes withered, twisted, and stunted. It is, perhaps, to this neglect of physical exercise that we find amongst students so frequent a tendency towards discontent, unhappiness, inaction, and reverie, — displaying itself in a premature contempt for real life, and disgust at the beaten tracks of men,— a tendency which in England has been called Byronisnij Chap X. MANLY SPOETS. S1Î and in Germany Wertherism. Dr. Channing noted the same growth in America, which led him to make the remark, that " too many of our young men grew up in a school of despair," The only remedy for this green¬ sickness in youth is abundant physical exercise, — action, work, and bodily occupation of any sort. Daniel Malthus urged his son when at college to be most diligent in the cultivation of knowledge, but he also enjoined him to pursüe manly sports as the best means of keeping up the full working-power of his mind, as well as of enjoying the pleasures of intellect. " Every kind of knowledge," said he, " every acquaintance with nature and art, will amuse and strengthen your mind, and I am perfectly pleased ihat cricket should do the same by yoiir arms and legs ; I love to see you excel in exer¬ cises of the body, and I think myself that the better half, and much the most agreeable part, of the pleasures of the mind, is best enjoyed while one is upon one's legs." But a still more important use of active employment is that enforced by the great divine, Jeremy Taylor. " Avoid idleness," he says, " and fill up all the spaces of thy time with severe and useful employment ; for lust easily creeps in at those emptinesses where the soul is unemployed, and the body is at ease ; for no easy, healthful, idle person was ever chaste if he could be tempted ; but of all em¬ ployments, bodily labor is the most useful, and of tho greatest benefit for driving away the devil." Practical success in life depends much more upon j)hysical health than is generally imagined. Hodson, of Hodson's Horse, writing home to a friend in England, said, " I believe, if I get on well in India, it will be owing, physically speaking, to a sound digestion." The capacity for continuous working in any calling must necessarily 312 BOATING AND CRICKETING. Chap. % mainly depend upon this ; and hence the necessity foï attending to health, even as a means of intellectual labor itself It is in no slight degree to the boating and cricket¬ ing sports, still cultivated at our best public schools and universities, that they produce so many specimens of healthy, manly, and vigorous men, of the true Hodson stamp. It is said that the Duke of Wellington, when once looking on at the boys engaged in their sports in the play-ground at Eton, where he had spent his own juvenile days, made the pregnant remark, " It was there that the battle of Waterloo was won ! " The cultivation of muscularity may doubtless be over¬ estimated ; yet it is unquestionably important that every young man should be early trained to the free use of his body and limbs. This, however, is one of the " common things " in modern education which is apt to be neglected. There are many youths who leave school and college full of the learning of the ancient Greeks and Romans, who, as regards the use of their own hands, are almost help¬ less. In gerunds and participles the mere student may be profound, but in the use of his eyes, — in the faculty of common observation, — he may be inferior to a ploughman. Though he may have taken the highest honors, he will sometimes, in common matters, be found beneath the level of the smith, the carpenter, or the navvy. " At sea he is a landlubber, in the country a cockney, in town a greenhorn, in science an ignoramus, in business a simpleton, in pleasure a milksop, — everywhere out of his element, everywhere at sea, in the clouds, adrift, or by whatever words utter ignorance and incapacity are to be described." * Perhaps, as educators grow wiser, they may become * Article in the " Times." Chap. X USES OP MECHANICAL WORK. 813 more practical, and recognize as among the chief objects of education, to fit men for actual life, and enable them to aiiiderstand and take part in the dailj business of com- mon raen. Nor would the education of youths in common ¡things be found incompatible with the very highest inteh lectual culture, but the reverse. Even some training in the use of tools in a workshop, for instance, would be found a good adjunct to education, — for it would teach young men the use of their hands and arms, familiarize them with healthy work, exercise their faculties upon things tangible and actual, give them some practical acquaintance with mechanics, impart to them the ability of being useful, and implant in them the habit of perse¬ vering physical effort. This is an advantage which the working classes, strictly so called, certainly possess over the leisure classes, — that they are in early life under the necessity of applying themselves laboriously to some mechanical pursuit or other, — thus acquiring manual dexterity and the use of their physical powers. The chief disadvantage attached to the calling of the laborious classes is, not that they are employed in physical work, but that they are too exclusively so employed, often to the neglect of their moral and intellectual faculties. While the youths of the leisure classes, having been taught to associate labor with servility, have shunned it, and been allowed to grow up practically ignorant, the poorer classes, confining themselves within the circle of their laborious callings, have been allowed to grow up in a large proportion of cases absolutely illiterate. It seems possible, however, to avoid both these evils by combining physical training or physical work with intellectual ture ; and there are various signs abroad which seem to mark the gradual adoption of this healthier system of education. U 014 BOYHOOD OF ISAAC NEWTON. Cnir. X The use of early labor in self-imposed mechanical em ployments is curiously illustrated by the boyhood of Sil Isaac Newton. Though a comparatively dull scholar, he was most assiduous in the use of his saw, hammer, and hatchet, — " knocking and hammering in his lodging- room,"— making models of windmills, carriages, and machines of all sorts ; and as he grew older, he took de¬ light in making little tables and cupboards for his friends. Smeaton, Watt, and Stephenson, were equally handy with tools when mere boys ; and but for such kind of sèlf-culture in their youth, it is doubtful whether they would have accomplished so much in their manhood. Such was also the early training of the great inventors and mechanics described in the preceding pages, whose contrivance and intelligence were practically trained by the constant use of their hands in early life. Even where men belonging to the manual labor class have risen above it, and become more purely intellectual laborers, they have found the advantages of their early training in their later pursuits. Elihu Burritt even found hard labor neces,mry to enable him to study wdth effect ; and more than once he gave up school-keeping and study, and taking to his leather apron again, went back to his blacksmith's forge and anvil, for his health of body and mind's sake. The same view was Tvell urged by Mr. R. M. Milnes, M. P., at a recent meeting of a mechanics' institute. " lie believed," he said, " that the habit of mechanical work, — precise, earnest, industrious, good, mechanical work,— would best lead men on to good mental and intellectual work. A good workman in the materials of life would, if he had the talent, be a good workman in the materials of the mind ; and thus it was that they found that the mosi Chap. X. OULI/VATED PIIYSICAL STRENGTH. olô remarkable men who had risen from the lower ranks oí society, had not risen from those who had abstained from work, but from those who had been the most industrious, the most active, and the most intelligent in their own me<' chanical occupations. There were two things which operated against young men advancing in intellectual progress, — o ver-work and under-work. He thought it no disadvantage whatever to a man's intellectual progress to have something else to do ; and if they looked at the upper classes of society they would find it was equally true in their case as it was in their own, — namely, that the man who had the most active occupation was the man who in public life the most distinguished himself, and became the most useful to his country." The success even of professional men depends in no slight degree on their organic stamina and cultivated physical strength. Thus a well-developed thorax is con¬ sidered almost as indispensable to the successful lawyer or politician as a well-cultured intellect. The thorough aeration of the blood, by free exposure to a large breath¬ ing surface in the lungs, is necessary to maintain that full vital power on which the vigorous working of the brain in so large a measure depends. The lawyer has to climb the heights of his profession through close and heated courts, and the political leader has to bear the fatigue and excitement of long and anxious debates in a crowded House. Hence the lawyer in full practice, and the par¬ liamentary leader in full work, are called upon to display powers of physical endurance and activity even more extraordinary than those of the intellect, — such powers as have been exhibited in so remarkable a degree by Brougham, Lyndhurst, and Campbell ; Ijy Peel, Graham and Palraerston, — all full-cheî^ted men. Sit JULTIVATFD PHYSICAL STRENGTH. Chap. X The marvellous and still juvenile vitality of Lord Pal- merston has long been matter of surprise. But it was bis pride and pleasure as a youth, to be the best rower, jumper, and runner ; to be first in the sports of the field as he has since been first in the senate ; and to this day his horse and gun are invariably resorted to in his hours of relaxation. As for Lord Brougham, legends of his enormous powers of labor and triumphs over the fraii physique of humanity, have gathered round him like a Hercules; and with reference to him and others of his class, the observation of a public writer * is doubtless in a great measure true, — that " the greatness of our great men is quite as much a bodily affair as a mental one." It is in the physical man that the moral as well as the intellectual man lies hid; and it is through th^ bodily organs that the soul itself works. The body, as old Bur¬ ton says, "is domicilium animœ^ her home, abode, and stay ; and, as a torch gives a better light, a sweeter smell, according to the matter it is made of, so doth our soul perform all her actions better or worse, as her or¬ gans are disposed ; or, as wine savors of the cask wherein it is kept, the soul receives a tincture from the body, through which it works." Sir Walter Scott, when attending the University at Edinburgh, though he went by the name of " The Great Blockhead," was, notwithstanding his lameness, a remark¬ ably healthy youth, and could spear a salmon with the best fisher on the Tweed, or ride a wild horse with any hunter in Yarrow. When devoting himself in after-life to literary pursuits, Sir Walter never lost his taste for field-sports; but while writing " Waverley " in the morn¬ ing, he would in the afternoon course hares. Professe? * The " Times." Chap. X. SUSTAINED ArPLICATION. 317 Wilbon was a very athlete, as great at throwing the ham¬ mer as in his flights of eloquence and poetry ; and Burns, when a youth, was remarkable chiefly for his leaping, putting, and wrestling. Some of our greatest divines were distinguished in their youth for their physical energies. Isaac Barrow, when at the Charterhouse School, was notorious for his pugilistic encounters, in which he got many a bloody nose ; Andrew F uller, when working as a farmer's lad at Soham, was chiefly famous for his skill in boxing ; and Adam Clarke, when a boy, was only remarkable for the strength displayed by him in " rolling large stones about ; " the secret, possibly, of some of the power which he subsequently displayed iu rolling forth large thoughts in his manhood. While it is necessary, then, in the first place to secure this solid foundation of physical health, it must also be observed that sustained application is the inevitable price which must be paid for mental acquisitions of all sorts ; and it is as futile to expect them without it, as to look for a harvest where the seed has not been sown. The road into knowledge is free to all who will give the labor and the study requisite to gather it ; nor are there any diffi° culties so great that the student of resolute purpose may not effectually surmount and overcome them. It was one of the characteristic expressions of Chatterton, that God had sent his creatures into the world with arms long enough to reach anything, if they chose to be at the trouble. In study, as in business, energy is the great thing. There must be the " fervet opus," — we must not OJily strike the iron while it is hot, but strike it till it is made hot. The proverb says, " He who has heart has everything ; " and Che non arde non incende, Who doth not burn doth not inflame. It is astonishing how mt^cb 818 WELL-DIIiECTED LABOR. Chap. X. may be accomplished in self-culture by the energetic and the persevering, who are careful to avail themselves of opportunities, and use up the fragments of spare time which the idle permit to run to waste. Thus Ferguson learned astronomy from the heavens, while wrapped in a sheepskin on the highland hills. Thus Stone learned mathematics while working as a journeyman gardener; thus Drew studied the highest philosophy in the intervals of cobbling shoes ; thus Miller taught himself geology while working as a day-laborer in a quarry. By bring¬ ing their mind to bear upon knowledge in its various aspects, and carefully using up the very odds and ends of their time, — men such as these, in the very humblest circumstances, reached the higliest culture, and acquired honorable distinction amongst their fellow-men. Sir Joshua Reynolds, as we have already observed, was so earnest a believer in the power of industry, that he held that all men might achieve excellence if they would but exercise the power of assiduous and patient working. He held that drudgery was on the road of genius, and that there were no limits to the proficiency of an artist except the limits of his own painstaking. He would not believe in what is called inspiration, but only in study and labor. " Excellence," he said, is never granted to man but as the reward of labor." if you have great talents, industry will improve them ; if you have but moderate abilities, industry will supply their deficiency. Nothing is denied to well-directed labor ; nothing is to be obtained without it." Sir Fowell Bux¬ ton, who labored in a very different field, was an equal believer in the power of study ; and he entertained the modest idea that he could do as well as other men if he devoted to the pursuit double the time and labor that they Cn^p. X. THOROTJGHNES_S AND ACCURACY. 319 did. He placed his great confidence only in :)rdinary means, and extraordinary application. Genius^ without work, is certainly a dumb oracle; and it is unquestion¬ ably true, that the men of the highest genius have invariably been found to be amongst the most plodding hard-working, and intent men, — their chief character¬ istic apparently consisting simply in their power of labor¬ ing more intensely and effectively than others. Thoroughness and accuracy are two principal points to be aimed at in study. Francis Horner, in laying down rules for the cultivation of his mind and character, placed great stress upon the habit of continuous application to one subject for the sake of mastering it thoroughly ; con¬ fining himself, with this object, to but a few books, and resisting with the greatest firmness every approach to a habit of desultory reading." The value of knowledge to any man certainly consists not in its quantity, but mainly in the good uses to which he may apply-it. Hence a little knowledge, of an exact and perfect character, is always found more valuable for practical purposes than any extent of superficial learning. The phrase in com¬ mon use, as to " the spread of knowledge " at this day, is no doubt correct, but it is spread so widely, and in such thin layers, that it only serves to reveal the mass of igno¬ rance lying beneath. Never perhaps were books more extensively read, or less studied ; and the number is rap¬ idly increasing of those who know a little of everything, but nothing well. Such readers have not inaptly been likened to a certain sort of pocket-knife which some peo. pie carry about with them, which, in addition to a common knife, contains a file, a chisel, a saw, a gimlet, a screw- Iriver, and a pair of scissors, but all so diminutive, that the moment they are needed for use, they are found seless. 320 DEFINITE OBJECTS OF STUDY. Cn^r. X. One of Ignatius Loyola's maxims was, " He who does well one work at a time, does more than all." By spread¬ ing our efforts over too large a surface w^e inevitably weaken our force, hinder our progress, and acquire a habit of fitfulness and ineffective working. "Whatever a youth undertakes to learn, he should not be suffered to leave it until he can reach his arms round it and clench his hands on the other side. Thus he will learn the habit of thoroughness. Lord St. Leonards once com¬ municated to Sir Powell Buxton the mode in which he had conducted his studies, and thus explained the secret of his success. " I resolved," said he, " when beginning to read law, to make everything I acquired perfectly my owm, and never to go to a second thing till I had entirely accomplished the first. Many of my competitors read as much in a day as I read in a week ; but, at the end of twelve months, my knowledge was as fresh as the day it was acquired, while theirs had glided aw^ay from recollec¬ tion." Sir E. B. Lytton, once explaining how it was that, whilst so fully engaged in active life, he had written sc many books, observed, "I contrive to do so much by never doing too much at a time. As a general rule, J have devoted to study not more than three hours a day ; and, when Parliament is sitting, not always that. Bin then, during those hours, I have given my whole atten¬ tion to wdiat I was about." It is not the quantity of study that one gets through, or the amount of reading, that makes a wise man ; but Ihe appositeness of the study to the purpose for which ii is pursued; the concentration of the mind for the time being, upon the subject under consideration ; and the habitual discipline by which the whole system of menta- application is regulated. Abernethy was evt n of opinio» l;HAP. X- EVILS OF WANT OF CONFIDENCE 321 fhat there was a point of saturation in his own mini an;3 Ihat if he took into it something more than it could hold, it only had the effect of pushing something else out Speaking of the study of medicine, he said, " If a man has a clear idea of what he desires to do, he will seldom fail in selecting the proper means of accomplishing it-" The most profitable study is that which is conducted with a definite and specific object, —■ all observation, reflection, and reading, being directed upon it for the time being. By thoroughly mastering any given branch of knowledge, we render it much more available for use at any moment. Hence it is not enough merely to have books, or to know where to read up for information as we want it. Prac¬ tical wisdom, for the purposes of life, must be carried about with us, and be ready for use at call. It is not Eufficient that we have a fund laid up at home, but not a farthing in the pocket ; we must carry about with us a store of the current coin of knowledge ready for exchange on all occasions, else we are comparatively helpless when the opportunity for action occurs. Decision and promptitude are as requisite in self-cul¬ ture as in business. The growth of these qualities may be encouraged by accustoming young people to rely upon their own resources, leaving them to enjoy as much free»^ dom of action in early life as is practicable. Too much guidance and restraint hinder the formation of habits of self-help. They are like bladders tied under the arma of one who has not taught himself to swim. Want, of confidence is perhaps a greater obstacle to improvement than m generally imagined. True modesty is quite com¬ patible with a due estimate of one's own merits, and doea not demand the abnegation of all merit. Though there are no doubt many conceited persons who deceive them- V 14* 322 IMPATIENCE OF STUDY. Chap. x selves by putting a false figure before their ciphers, iha want of confidence, the want of faith in one's self, and consequently the want of promptitude in action, is a de feet of character which is found to stand very much in tlie way of individual advancement. It has been said that half the failures in life arise from pulling in one's horse while he is leaping. Dr. Johnson was accustomed to attribute all his success to confidence in his own powers« It is indeed very often the case that the I'eason why so little is done, is because so little is attempted, — that we do not succeed, simply because we persist in standing in our own light. One step out of the way might help us, but that one step we do not take. There is no want of desire on the part of most persons at this day to arrive at the results of self-culture, but there is a great aversion to pay the inevitable price for it, of hard work. Dr. Johnson held that " impatience of study was the mental disease of the present generation ; " and the remark is still applicable. We may not believe that there is a royal road to learning, but we seem to be¬ lieve very firmly in a ^'popular" one. In education, we invent labor-saving processes, seek short cuts to science, learn French and Latin in twelve lessons," or " wdthout a master." We resemble the lady of fashion, who en¬ gaged a master to teach her on condition that he did not plague her with verbs and participles. We get our smattering of science in the same way : we learn chemis¬ try by listening to a short course of lectures enlivened by experiments, and wdi^n we have inhaled laughing gas, seen green water turned to red, and phosphorus burnt in oxygen, we have got our smattering, of which the most that can be said is, that though it may be bettor than nothing, it is yet good for nothing. Thus we often Chap. X. LABt^K-SAVING PROCESSES FALLACIOUS 323 imagine we are being educated while we are onlj being amused. But it will not do : all such labor-saving processes, — indeed, all pretended method i of insinuating knowledge into the mind without study and labor, — are calculated to prove delusive, and end Only in mortification and dis¬ appointment. To be wise we must diligently apply our selves, and confront the same continuous application which our forefathers did ; for labor is still, and ever will be, the inevitable price set upon everything which is valuable. We must be satisfied to work energetically with a purpose, and wait the results with patience. «Buf- fon has even said of Patience, that it is Genius, — the power of great men, in his opinion, consisting mainly their power of continuous working and waiting. Ah progress, of the best kind, is slow ; but to him who works faithfully and in a right spirit, be sure that the reward will be vouchsafed in its own good time. Courage and industry," says Sharpe, " must have sunk in despair, and the world must have remained unimproved and unorna- mented, if men had merely 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." We must continuously apply ourselves to right pursuits, and we cannot fail to advance steadily, though it may be unconsciously. By degrees, the spirit of industry, exercised in the common forms of education, will be transferred to objects of greater dignity and more extensive usefulness. And still we must work on ; for th3 work of self-culture is never finished. "To be em¬ ployed," sail the poet Gray, "is to be happy." "It is better to wear out than rust out," said Bishop Cumber¬ land. " Have we not all eternity to rest in ?" exclaimed Arnauld. 324 IMPATIENCE ro BE AVOIDED. Chai-. k It is a mark of the short-sighted laborer to be impa< tient of growth. It must show itself in a sensible form, and almost at once, to satisfy him. Like little children, eager to see their seeds growing, he will pull his plants up to see what progress they are making, and so kill them. But man who plants and sows, must wait in patience and in faith, — faith in the bountiful spring, and summer, and autumn, which will follow. He must some¬ times even content himself with the thought that his children shall enjoy the fruits. Some young men, in one of Lafontaine!s fables, ridicule an old patriarch of four score, engaged in planting an avenue of young trees. The youths told him he would not live to see them as higli as his head. "Well," replied the aged worker, " what of that ? If their shade afford me no pleasure, it may afford pleasure to my cliildren, and even to you ; and therefore, the planting of them affords me pleasure." Not long ago, a poor workman, who had been working for the future, lay dying, his wife and children sobbing around his bed ; the sufferer was agonized by the thought of their struggle with the wmrld without him ; and the cer¬ tainty of that struggle embittered his last moments. " My poor Willy ! my poor Mary ! " he cried in despair, " what will become of them I " Consolation was tried, but for some time in vain. At last one thoughtful friend said to him, hopefully, " Fear not I you leave to them a rich legacy ; rest assured your teachings will not be forgotten ; the seed you have sown will not be lost ; and your book.s, which to you have been such household gods, will be the same to them, and open their minds, and through them minister lovingly to the great God of all ! " " Oh ! peaccy :îonsolation," said the dying man, and spake no more. The highest and most effective culture of all resolveii 4ÎHAP. X. SELF-CULTURE THE BEST CULTURE. itself into Self-Culture. The education received at school and college is but a beginning, and is mainly valuable in so far as it trains us in the habit of continuous ajiplica- tion, and facilitates self-education, after a definite plan and system. To enable the mmd freely to exercise its powers, it is necessary, even under the most thorough system of culture, that there should be occasional gaps for its free operation. Thus left in some measure to find out what it can do and what it cannot do, it will gain in strength and activity, and the evils arising from a too entire dependence on the teaching of others will be in a great degree avoided. Often the best educa¬ tion of a man is that which he gives himself, while engaged in the active pursuits of practical life. Put ting ideas into one's head will do the head no good, no more than putting things into a bag, unless it re¬ act upon them, make them its own, and turn them to account. " It is not enough," said John Locke, " to cram ourselves with a great load of collections ; unless we chew them over again, they will not give us strength and nourishment." That which is put into us by others is always far less ours than that which we acquire by our own diligent and persevering effort. Knowledge con¬ quered by labor, becomes a possession, — a property en¬ tirely our own. A greater vividness and permanency of impression is secured ; and facts thus acquired become registered in the mind in a way that mere imparted in» formation can never produce. This kind of self-culture also calls forth power and cultivates strength. The self- solution of one problem helps the mastery of another i and thus knowledge is carried into faculty. Our own active effort is the essential thing ; and no facilities, no books, no teachers, no amount of lessons learned by rote, 326 DR. ARNOLD'S TEACHING. Chap. X. will enable us to dispens e with it. Such a spirit infused into self-culture gives birth to a living teaching, which inspires with purpose the whole man, -— impressing a distinct stamp upon the mind, and actively promoting the formation of principles and habitudes of conduct. The best teachers have been prompt to recognize the importance of self-culture, and of stimulating the student early to accustom himself to acquire knowledge by the active exertion of his own faculties. They have relied more upon training than upon telling ; and sought to make their pupils themselves active parties to the work in which they were engaged; thus making teaching some¬ thing far higher than the mere passive reception of the scraps and details of knowledge. This was the spirit in which the great Dr. Arnold worked ; he strove to teach his pupils to rely upon themselves, and to develop their own powers, himself merely guiding, directing, stim¬ ulating, and encouraging them. "I would far rather," he said, " send a boy to Van Diemen's Land, where he must work for his bread, than send him to Oxford to live in luxury, without any desire in his mind to avail himself of his advantages." "If there be one thing on earth," he observed on another occasion, " which is truly admirable, it is to see God's wisdom blessing an inferi¬ ority of natural powers, when they have been honestly, truly, and zealously cultivated." Speaking of a pupil of this character, he said, " I would stand to that man hat in hand." Once at Laleham, when teaching a rather dull boy, he spoke somewhat sharply to him, on which the pupil looked up in his face and said, " Why do you speak angrily, sir? indeed^ I am doing the best I can." Years afterwards, Arnold used to tell the story to his children, and added, " I never felt so much in my life, —- that look and that speech I hav^ never forgotten" Ohaî*. X. KNOWLEDGE AND WISDOM. 321 There is no more personal merit attaching to the pos¬ session of naturally superior intellectual powers than in the succession to a large estate. It is the use which is made of the one as of the other, which constitutes the only just claim to respect. A great fund of knowledge may be accumulated without any purpose ; and though a source of pleasure to the possessor, it may be of little use to any one else. It is not mere literary culture that makes a man. For it is possible to have read many books and waded through many sciences, and yet to possess no sound intellectual discipline ; w^hilst others, without any regular scholastic culture, may, by the diligent exercise of their judgment and observation, have acquired eminent mental vigor. An often quoted expression at this day is that " Knowl¬ edge is power;" but so also are fanaticism, despotism, and ambition. Knowledge of itself, unless wisely di¬ rected, might merely make bad men more dangerous, and the society in which it was regarded as the highest good, little better than a pandemonium. Knowledge must be allied to goodness and wisdom, and embodied in upright character, else it is naught. Pestalozzi even held intel¬ lectual training by itself to be pernicious ; insisting that the roots of all knowledge must strike and feed in the soil of the religious rightly-governed will. The acquisi¬ tion of knowledge may, it is true, protect a man against the meaner felonies of life ; but not in any degree against its selfish vices, unless fortified by sound principles and habits. Hence do we find in daily life, so many instances of men who are well-informed in intellect, but utterly deformed in character; filled with the learning of the schools, yet possessing little practical wisdom, and oifer mg examples rather for warning than imitation® 528 LITERARY CULTURE OVERRATED. Chaf.% It is possible that at this day we may even exagg-cr- ate the importance of literary culture. We are apt to imagine that because we possess many libraries, insti¬ tutes, and museums, we are making great progress. But it is not improbable that such facilities may as often be a hindrance as a help to individual self-culture of the highest kind. The possession of a library, or the free use of it, no more constitutes learning, than the posses¬ sion of wealth constitutes generosity. Though we un¬ doubtedly possess great facilities, it is nevertheless true, as of old, that wisdom and understanding can only be¬ come the possession of individual men by travelling the old road of observation, attention, perseverance, and industry. The possession of the mere materials of knowledge is something very different from wisdom and understanding, which are reached through a higher kind of discipline than that of reading. "Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, The mere materials with which wisdom builds, Till smoothed and squared, and fitted to its place. Does but encumber, whom it seems t' enrich." The multitude of books which modern readers wade through, may produce distraction as much as culture ; the process leaving no more definite impression upon the mind than gazing through the shifting forms in a kaleido¬ scope does upon the eye. Reading is often but a mere passive reception of other men*s thoughts ; there being little or no active effort of the mind in the transaction. Then how much of our reading is but the indulgence of a sort of literary epicurism, or intellectual dram-drinking^ CHAPO X CARLYLE'S ADVICE. 329 imparting a grateful excitement for the moment, without the slightest effect in improving and enriching the mind or building up the character. Thus many indulge them^ selves in the conceit that they are cultivating their minds, when they are only employed in the humbler occupation of killing time ; of which perhaps the best that can be said is, that it merely keeps them from doing worse things. Mr. Carlyle, when applied to by a young friend for advice as to the books he was to read, wrote him as follows : " It is not by books alone, nor by books chiefly, that a man becomes in all parts a man. Study to do faithfully whatsoever thing in your actual situation, there and now, you find either expressly or tacitly laid to your charge ; that is your post ; stand to it like a true soldier. A man perfects himself by work much more than by reading. They are a growing kind of men that can wisely combine the two things, — wisely, valiantly can do what is laid to their hand in their present sphere, and prepare themselves withal for doing other wider things, if such lie before them." It is also to be borne in mind that the experience gathered from books, though often valuable, is but of the nature of learning; whereas the experience gained from actual life is of the nature of wisdom ; and a small store of the latter is worth vastly more than any stock of the former. Lord Bolingbroke truly said that " What¬ ever study tends neither directly nor indirectly to make us better men and citizens, is at best but a specious and ingeiiious sort of idleness, and the knowledge we acquire by it, only a creditable kind of ignorance,— ucthing more." Useful and instructive hough good reading may be, 830 BOOKS NOT THE BEST TEACHERS. Chap x it is yet only one mode of cultivating the mind ; and ia much less influential than practical experience and good example in the formation of character. There were wise, valiant, and true-hearted men bred in England, long before the existence of a reading public. Magna Charta was secured by men who signed the deed with their marks. Though altogether unskilled in the art of deciphering the literary signs by which principles were denominated upon paper, they yet understood and ap¬ preciated, and boldly contended for, the things them¬ selves. Thus the foundations of English liberty were laid by men, who, though illiterate, w^ere nevertheless of the very highest stamp of character. And it must be admitted that the chief object of culture is, not merely to fill the mind with other men's thoughts,—-and to be the passive recipients of their impressions of things, — but to enlarge our individual intelligence, and render us more useful and efficient workers in the sphere of life to which we may be called. Many of our most ener¬ getic and useful workers have been but sparing readers. Brindley and Stephenson did not learn to read and write until they reached manhood, and yet they did great works and lived manly lives ; John Hunter could barely read or write when he was twenty years old, though he could make tables and chairs with any carpenter in the trade. 1 never read," said the great physiologist when lec¬ turing before his class ; " this," (pointing to some part of the subject before him,) "this is the work that you must study if you wish to become eminent in your pro¬ fession." When told that one of his contemporaries had charged him with being ignorant of the dead languages, he said, "I would undertake to teach him that on the dead body which he never knew in any language, dead or liviim." Chap. X. THE DISCIPLINE OF LIFE AND ACTION. 351 It is not how much a man may know, that is of sa much importance, as the end and purpose for which he knows it. The object of knowledge should be, to mature wisdom and improve character, to render us better, hap¬ pier, and more useful ; more, benevolent, more energetii^ and more efficient in the pursuit of every high purpose in life. We must ourselves he and do, and not rest satis¬ fied merely with reading and meditating over what other men have written and done. Our best light must be made life, and our best thought action. The humblest and least literate must train his sense of duty, and accusr torn himself to an orderly and diligent life. Though talents are the gift of nature, the highest virtue may be acquired by men of the humblest abilities, through care¬ ful self-discipline. At least we ought to be able to say, as Riclner did, " I have made as much out of myself as could be made of the stuff, and no man should require more." It is every man's duty to discipline and guide himself, with God's help, according to his responsibilities and the faculties he is endowed with. Guided by the good example and good works of others, we must yet rely mainly upon our own inward efforts, and build upon our own foundations. Self-discipline and self-control are the beginnings of practical wisdom ; and these must have their root in selff respect. Hope springs from it, — hope, which is the companion of power, and the mother of success ; for whoso hopes strongly has within him the gift of miracles. The humblest may say, " To respect myself, to develop myself, — this is my true duty in life. An integral and responsible part of the great system of society, I owe it to society and to its Author not to degrade, nor destroy, my body, mind, nor instincts. On the contrary, I am S32 SELF-RESPECT. Chap. X bound to the best of my power to give to those parts of my nature the highest degree of perfection possible. I am not only to suppress the evil, but to evoke the good elements in my nature. And as I respect my own nature, so am I equally bound to respect others, as they on their part are bound to respect me.'' Hence mutual respect, justice, and order, of which law becomes the written record and guarantee. Self-respect is the noblest garment with which a man may clothe himself, — the most elevating feeling with which the mind can be inspired. One of Pythagoras's wisest maxims, in his Golden Verses, is that in which he enjoins the pupil to " réverence himself." Borne up by this high idea, he will not defile his body by sensuality, nor his mind by servile thoughts. This sentiment, carried into daily life, will be found at the root of all the virtues, — cleanliness, sobriety, chastity, morality, and religion. " The pious and just honoring of ourselves," said Milton, " may be thought the radical moisture and fountain-head from whence every laudable and worthy enterprise issues forth." To think meanly of one's self, is to sink in one's own estimation as well as in the estimation of others. And as the thoughts are, so will the acts be. A man cannot live a high life who grovels in a moral sewer of his own thoughts. He cannot aspire if he look down ; if he will rise, he must look up. The very humblest may be sustained by the proper indulgence of this feel¬ ing ; and poverty itself may be lifted and lighted up by self-respect. It is truly a noble sight to see a poor man hold himself upright amidst all his temptations, and re¬ fuse to demean himself by low actions. It is not necessary that we should insist on the uses of knowledge as a means of " getting on " in life. This ig CíiAP. X. KNOWLEDGE A MEANS OF RISING IN LIFE. 333 alreadj sufficiently taught bj obvious self-interest; aiicî it is beginning to be pretty generally understood, that self-culture is one of the best possible InYestments of time and labor. In any line of life, intelligence will enable a man to adapt himself more readily to circum stances, suggest to him improved methods of work, and render him more apt, skilled, and effective in all respects. He who works with his head as well as his hands, will come to look at his business with a clearer eye ; and he will become conscious of increasing power, — perhaps the most cheering consciousness the human mind can cherish. The power of self-help will gradually grow ; and in proportion to a man's self-respect, will he bo armed against the temptation of low indulgences. So¬ ciety and its action will be regarded with quite a new interest, his sympathies will widen and enlarge, and he will be attracted to work for others as well as for him¬ self. Self-culture may not, however, end in eminence, such as we have briefly described in the numerous illustrious instances of self-raised individuals above cited. The great majority of men, in all times, however enlightened, must necessarily be engaged in the ordinary avocations of industry ; and no degree of culture which can be con¬ ferred upon the community will ever enable them — even were it desirable, which it is not — to get rid of the daily work of society, which must be done. But this, we think, may also be accomplished. We can elevate the condition of labor by allying it to noble thoughts, which confer a grace upon the lowliest as well as the highest rank. For no matter how poor or humble a man may be, the great thinker of this and other days may come in and sit down with him, and be his companion for the time, thfmgh his $34: LOW VIEW OF KKOWLEDGE. Chap. X dwelling be the meanest hut. It is thus "that the habi( 0Ï well;-díí*ected reading maj become a source of the greatest pleasure and self-improvement, and exercise a gentle coercion, with the most beneficent results, over th@ whole tenor of a man's character and conduct. And even though self-culture may not bring wealth, it will at all events give us the good company of elevated thoughts, A nobleman once contemptuously asked of a sage, " Whal have you got by all your philosophy ? " " At least Î have got society in myself," was the wdse man's reply. But many are apt to feel despondency, and to become discouraged in the work of self-culture, because they do not " get on " in the world so fast as they think they deserve to do. Having planted their acorn, they expect to see it grow into an oak at once. They have perhaps looked upon knowledge in the light of a marketable com¬ modity, and are consequently mortified because it does not sell as thf y expected it would do. Mr. Tremenheere, in one of hu "Education Reports" (for 1840-1), states that a schoolmaster in Norfolk, finding his school rapidly falling off, made inquiry into the cause, and ascertained that the reason given by the majority of the parents for withdrawing their children was, that they had expected " education was to make them better oflP than they were before," but that having found it had " done them no good," they had therefore taken their children from schoolj and would give themselves no further trouble about edu¬ cation. The same low idea of self-culture is but too prev¬ alent in other classes, and is encouraged by the false views of life "which are always more or less current in society. But to regard self-culture either as a means of getting past others in the world, or of intellectual dissipa¬ tion and amusement, rather than, as a power to elevato Chap. X. EVIL OF COMPETITIVE EXAMLVATION. 33Ù the character and expand the spiritual nature, is to placé it on a very low level. It is doubtless most honorable foi a man to labor to elevate himself, and to better his condition in society, but this is not to be done at the sacri- íjce of himself. To make the mind the mere drudge of the body, is putting it to a very servile use ; and 10 go about whining and bemoaning our pitiful lot because wt fail in achieving that success in life, which after all de¬ pends rather upon habits of industry and attention to business details than upon knowledge, is the mark of a small, and often of a sour mind. Such a temper cannot better be dealt with than in the words of Robert Southey, who thus wrote to à friend wlio sought his counsel ; " I would give you advicè if it could be of use; but there is no curing those who choose to be diseased. A good man and a wise man niay at times be angry with the world, at times grieved for it ; but be sure no man was ever discontented with the world if he did his duty in it. If a man of education, who has health," eyes, hands, and leisure, wants an object, it is only because God Almighty has bestowed all those blessings upon a man who does not deserve them." It is not improbable that the prominence, recently given to literary examinations for small government offices, of w^hich we have heard so much, may tend to swell the ranks of the discontented, without any corresponding gain to the public service. The plan recently established may be described as a kind of government lottery, in which the prizes are drawn by those who are the best crammed. Not long since, when eight youths were wanted to do copying work in a public office, not fewer than seven hundred offered themselves for examination ; eight prizes to 692 blanks ! A most pitiable sight truly, to see so 336 EVIL OF COMPETITIVE EXAMINATION. Chap. x many educated young men eager for the poorly-paid, and routine, though " genteel " occupation of a government office, when there are so many other paths, though requir¬ ing labor and self-denial, open for the energies of young men of activity and spirit. Sir James Clarke has not inaptly described the preliminary system of cramming for examination, of the kind to which these youths are required to submit, as thoroughly demoralizing, and calcu¬ lated to develop prigs rather than men. The mind is so overlaid with a heap of undigested knowledge, that there is little room left for its free action ; and though a func- tionarism as complete as that already established in China may thereby be secured, it will probably be at the ex¬ pense of that constitutional energy and vigor, which are so indispensable for attaining a robust manhood. More¬ over, the tendency of this new movement seems to be, to draw the educated youth of the country aside from the paths of ordinary industry, and direct their eyes toward the public treasure as the highest object of their exer¬ tions ; whilst beyond all, there is that danger to be ap¬ prehended, against which Montalembert has so eloquently warned us, of stimulating and propagating the passion for salaries and government employment, which saps all national spirit of independence, and in some countries makes a whole people a mere crowd of servile solicitors for place« XL FAClLlfiES ÜF MODERN TIMÄS. / CHAPTER XI. facilities and difficulties. ^1b ¿here one whom difficulties dishearten, —who bends to the storm ? Hi will do little. Is there one who will conquer ? That kind of man nevei foils." — John Hunter. "C'est des difficultés qui naissent les miracles."— Bruyère, This is an age preeminently distinguished for the facil¬ ities which it aifords for human intercourse and the spread of knowledge. In travelling, telegraphing, printing, and postal communications, it surpasses every other. Tons upon tons of machine-made paper are constantly being converted into machine-printed books and machine-print¬ ed newspapers, which are spread abroad at a marvellously' low price ; and as we look on, we are accustomed to con gratúlate ourselves upon the marvellous " progress of the age." If machinery and horse-power of steam could accomplish this, our progress were indeed rapid. But it still remains to be seen whether the vast amount of printed matter in circulation is calculated to produce wiser and better men, actuated by higher and more beneficent principles of action, than existed in England in times comparatively remote, in which books were far rarer but much more highly prized, — sudi times, for instance, as those for which Shakspeare, Milton, Bacon, and Jeremy Taylor wrote. It will, perhaps, be acknowl¬ edged that, though the multiplication of books and news¬ papers by means of steam-engines and printing machines w 15 Ê8B THE DIVISION OF LABOR Chap. âî is accompanied by unquestionable advantages, the facilb ties thereby afforded for the spread of knowledge are not altogether an unmixed good. It doubtless furnishes un- precedented facilities for iearning many things easily and without effort ; but at the same time it probably tends rather towards superficialisra than depth or vigor of thinking; for while readers are tempted by the multh tade of books to skim many subjects, they may thereby be so distracted by the variety, as to be induced to bottom none of them thoroughly. With all the facilities which exist for independent self- culture, it is even suspected that our life, like our litera¬ ture, is becoming more mechanical. Large and increas¬ ing numbers of persons in our manufacturing districts occupy the chief part of their waking hours from day to day in watching machines spinning or winding threads, the tendency being to produce a sort Of mechanical hu¬ man beings almost as devoid of individuality of character as the machines they watch. This is one of the defects of modern civilization, daily operating upon large classes of the people, which, in these days, is perhaps too little regarded. While we have been perfecting our mechan¬ isms, we have sometimes forgotten that the finest of all raw material is to be found in Men ; and w^e have not yét done our utmost — indeed we have done comparatively little — to work up and improve that. Speaking of our division of labor processes, Mr. Ruskin has said, " It is not, truly speaking, the labor that is divided, but the man, — divided into mere segments of men, — broken into small fragments and crumbs of life, so that all the little piece of intelligence that is left in a man is not enougii to make a pin, or a nail, but exhausts itself in making the point of a pin, or the head of a nail. No^ Ohap. XL MECHANICAL EXPEDIENTS OF PROGRESS. 33S it is a good and desirable thing, truly, to make many pin# in a day ; but if we could only see with what crystal sand their points were polished, sand of human soul, much to be magnified before it can be discerned for what it is, we should think there would be some loss in it also. And the great cry that rises from all our manufacturing cities, louder than their furnace blast, is all in very deed for this, that we manufacture everything there except men ; we blanch cotton, and strengthen steel, and refine sugar, and shape pottery ; but to brighten, to strengthen to refine, or to form a single living spirit, never enters into our estimate of advantages." The popular remedies proposed for existing social and political evils have also a strong mechanical tendency. There is a moral philosophy which proposes to measure our heads with callipers, and then cast up our propensi¬ ties, moral sentiments, and intellectual faculties, like a sum in addition ; thus determining the line of life we are to lead, or the moral hospital we are to be sent to. There are social reformers, who will have us estab¬ lished in parallelograms, and ripened into men by abne¬ gation of all the hopes, struggles, and difficulties, by which men are made. We have logarithms ground out of a box, and calculations manufactured by merely turn ing a handle, over which men formerly educated thei?^ faculties by studying for months. And there are plans afloat for rescuing us from political infamy by the adop- tion of sundry arithmetical and mechanical expedients^ the discussion of which need not here be entered on. The improved mechanism in our schools also promises to become, so perfect that we may, before long, be almost as highly educated as the Chinese, and with quite as impotent a result. The process of ùlling the memo*?/ 840 mechanism of schools. Chap. XI with facts and formulas got by rote is rapidly extending; but the practice of independent thinking in any but the beaten tracks is not only not taught, but is often care¬ fully prevented. But the facility with which young people are thus made to acquire knowledge, though it may be cramming, is not education. It fills, but does not fructify the mind. It imparts a stimulus for the time, and produces a sort of intellectual keenness and cleverness ; but, without an implanted purpose and a higlier object than mere knowledge, it will bring with it no solid advantage. The tapidity with which young people now get at a knowledge of many things tends to make them easily satisfied, and they often become hlasé^ at an early age. They may have read many books, and gone through many branches of knowledge, but a lamen¬ table indifference possesses them: their souls, without compass, without anchorage, are blown about by all winds; they may understand, but there is little active belief; their minds merely receive ideas with the pas- siveness of a mirror, and the impressions made are scarcely more permanent. Such persons are deter¬ mined to no acts, have no desire to form convictions, arrive at no conclusions, and their will seems to be sus¬ pended, asleep, diseased, or dead. Knowledge, in cases of this sort, gives but a passing pleasure ; a sensation, but no more ; it is, in fact, the merest epicurism of in. lelligence — sensuous, but certainly not intellectual. The best part of such natures, that which is developed by vigorous effort and independent action, sleeps a deep sleep, and is often never called to life, except by the rough awakening of sudden calamity or suffering, which, in such cases, comes as a blessing, if it serves to rouse up I courageous spirit which, but for it, would have slum bered on. Chai*. XI. KNOWLEDGE MADE PLEASANT. 341 Growing: out of the facilities for reading which exist o o now-a-days, there is also to be observed a sort of mania for making things pleasant " on the road to knowledge ; and hence amusement and excitement are among the most popular methods employed to inculcate knowledge and inspire a taste for reading. Our books and periodi¬ cals must be highly spiced, amusing, and interestingi We have already had comic grammars and histories, and we may yet possibly reach the heights of a Comic Euclid and a Comic Prayer-book. Solid subjects are eschewed ; and books demanding application and study lie upon bookshelves unread. Douglas Jerrold, in one of his graver moods, once observed of this tendency : " I am convinced the world will get tired (at least I hope so) of this eternal guffaw about all things. After all, life has something serious in it. It cannot be all a comic history of humanity. Some men would, I believe, write a Comic Sermon on the Mount. Think of a Comic History of England, the drollery of Alfred, che fun of Sir Thomas More, the farce of his daughter begging the dead head and clasping it in her coffin on her bosom. Surely the world will be sick of this blasphemy." Dr. Arnold, speaking of the same evil, once observed : —• ^ Childishness, in boys even of good abilities, seems to me to be a growing fault, and I do not know to what to ascribe it, except to the greater number of exciting books of amusement. These completely satisfy all the intellec¬ tual appetites of a boy, which is rarely very voracious, and leave him totally palled, not only for his regular work, which I could well excuse in comparison, but for good literature of all sorts, even for history and poetry.'^ John Sterling also, in a like spirit, said : — " Periodical» and novels are to all in this generation, but more espc 342 AMUSEMENT —NOVEL-KEADING. Chap. XI dally to those whose minds are still unformed and in the process of formation, a new and more effectual substitute for the plagues of Egypt, vermin that corrupt the whole^ some waters, and infest our chambers." Accustomed to acquire information under the guise of amusement, young people will soon reject that which is presented to them under the aspect of study and labor Learning their knowledge and science in sport, they will become apt to make sport of both ; ' whilst the habit of intellectual dissipation, thus engendered, cannot fail, in course of time, to produce a thoroughly emasculating effect both upon their mipd and character. The Novel is the most favorite refuge of the frivolous and the idle. As a rest from toil, and a relaxation from graver pur¬ suits, the perusal of a well-written story, by a writer of genius, is a high intellectual pleasure ; and it is a de¬ scription of literature to which all classes of readers, old and young, are attracted as by a powerful instinct ; nor would we have any of them debarred from its enjoy¬ ment in a reasonable degree. But to make it the ex¬ clusive literary diet, as some do, — to devour the garbage with which the shelves of circulating libraries are crowdr ed, — and to occupy the greater portion of the leisure hours in studying the preposterous pictures of human life which so many of them present, is worse than waste of time, — it is positively pernicious. The habitual novel- reader indulges in fictitious feelings so much, that there is great risk of sound and healthy feeling becoming per¬ verted or destroyed. For, the literary pity evoked by fiction leads to no corresponding action ; the susceptibili¬ ties which it excites involve no inconvenience nor self- sacrifice ; so that the heart that is touched too often by the fiction may at length become insensible to the realUy •■hap. XI. PURSUIT OF PLEASURE. 343 I The steel is gradually rubbed out of the character, and ft insensibly loses its vital spring. As Nero was partial only to the mildest strains of music, so Robespierre's de» light was to read stories only of love and endearment, displaying in his life what Montaigne calls " opinions super-célestes et mœurs souterreines." " Drawing fine pictures of wtue in one's mind," said Bishop Butler, " is so far from necessarily or certainly conducive to form a hahit of it in him who thus employs himself, that it may even harden the mind in a contrary course, and render it gradually more insensible." Amusement in moderation is wholesome, and to be commended ; but amusement in excess vitiates the whole nature, and is a thing to be carefully guarded against. The maxim is often quoted of " All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy ; " but all play and no work makes him something greatly worse. Nothing can be more hurtful to a youth than to have his soul sodden with pleasure; The best qualities of his mind are thus frittered away ; common enjoyments become tasteless ; his appetite for the highest kind of pleasures is satiated and exhausted ; and when he comes to face the work and the duties of life, the result is often only aversion and dis gust. As the child turns from its heap of broken toys, so the hlcLsé youth turns from his withered pleasures; and if fiivolity have become his habit, he will find that the very capacity for enjoyment has been destroyed witliin him. " Fast men " soon "waste and exhaust the [>0Nvers of life, and dry up the very sources of true hap¬ piness. They have forestalled their spring, and can j;roduce no healthy growth of either character or intel- lec.t. A child without simplicity, a ma An without in¬ nocence, a boy without truthfulness, are not -ore pite,ou£ 344 PURSUIT OF PLEASURE. Chap. XI sights than the man who has wasted and thrown away his youth in pleasure. It is amongst such persons especially, whose youth has been sullied by premature enjoyments, that we find that prevalence cf skepticism, sneering, and egotism, which prove a soured nature. Having abused the sources of life, and thrown away their youth, they are tempted in their* despair to throw their manhood after it. Injury of this kind, infiicted on the character, is most difficult to be repaired ; for the habits formed in youth bind the man as in chains of adamant. On ne jette point l'ancre dans le fleuve de la vie," is the happy phrase of an old French writer, in describing that continuity of life in all its parts which inseparably links youth and manhood, and makes the habits of the one more or less the interpreter of the other. So when Lord tíacon says, " Strength of nature in youth passeth over many excesses which are owing a man until he is old," he expresses a physical as well as a moral fact, which cannot be too well weighed in the conduct of early life. What are called wild oats, when sown, very often prove tares in the reaping. Youthful indiscretions soon " find a man out." But the worst of them is, not that they destroy health, so much as that they sully manhood. The dissipated youth becomes a tainted man ; and often he cannot be pure, even if he would. If cure there be, it is only to be found in inocu¬ lating the mind with a fervent spirit of duty, and in energetic application to useful work. One of the most gifted of Frenchmen, in point of great intellectual endowments, was Benjamin Constant; but, blasé at twenty, his life was only a prolonged wail, in- stead of a harvest of the great deeds which he was capa^ %le pf accomplishing with ordinary diligence and self- ^-HAP XI. CONSTANT AND THIERRY. . 345 control. H(î resolved upon doing so many things, which he never did, that people came to speak of him avS Con¬ stant the Inconstant. He was a fluent and brilliant writer, and he cherished the ambition of writing many works "which the world would not willingly let die.'^ But whilst Constant affected the highest thinking, unhap¬ pily he practised the lowest living ; nor did the lofty transcendentalism of his books by any means palliate the acted meannesses of his life. He daily frequented the gaming-tables while engaged in preparing his work upon religion, and carried on a disreputable intrigue while writing his " Adolphe." With all his vast powerr of intellect, he was powerless, because he had no faith virtue. " Bah ! " said he, " what are honor and dignity r The longer I live, the more clearly I see there is nottd/-^ in them." It was the howl of a miserable man. He de¬ scribed himself as but " ashes and dust." " I pass,' sai^ he, " like a shadow over the earth, accompanied by misei^ and ennuir He wished for Voltaire's energy, which he would rather have possessed than his genius. But ho had no strength of purpose, — qothing but wishes ; h¿3 life, prematurely exhausted, had become but a heap of broken links. He spoke of himself as a person with one foot in the air. He admitted that he had no principles, and no moral consistency. Hence, with his splendid talents, he contrived to do nothing ; and, after living for many years miserable, he died worn out and wretched. The career of Augustin Thierry, the author of the History of the Norman Conquest," affords an admirable contrast to that of Constant. His entire life presented a íítriking example of perseverance, diligence, seli-oulture, and untiring devotion to knowledge. In the pursmt he bst his eyesight, lost his health, but never lost his love 15^ 346 COLERIDGE AND SOUTHEY. Chap. xf of truth. When so feeble that he was carried from room to room, like a helpless infant, in the arms of a nurse, hia brave spirit never failed him ; and blind and helpless though he was, he concluded his literary career in the following noble words : " If, as I think, the interest of science is counted in the number of great national inter¬ ests, I have given my country all that the soldier, muti¬ lated on the field of battle, gives her. Whatever may be the fate of my labors, this example, I hope, will not be lost. I would wish it to serve to combat the species of moral weakness which is the disease of our present gen¬ eration ; to bring back into the straight road of life some of those enervated souls that complain of wanting faith, that know not what to do, and seek everywhere, without finding it, an object of worship and admiration. Why say, with so much bitterness, that in the world, consti¬ tuted as it is, there is no air for all lungs, — no employ ment for all minds ? Is not calm and serious study there ? and is not that a refuge, a hope, a field within the reach of all of us ? With it, evil days are passed over without their weight being felt ; every one can make his own destiny, — every one employ his life nobly. ^ This is what I have done, and would do again if I had to re¬ commence my career ; I would choose that which has brought me where I am. Blind, and suffering without hope, and almost without intermission, I may give this testimony, which from me will not appear suspicirus. There is something in the world better than sensual en¬ joyments, better than fortune, better than health itself, —• It IS devotion to knowledge." Coleridge, in many respects, resembled Constant. He possessed equally brilliant powers, but was similarly in- rm of purpose. With all his great intellectual gifts, be a äp. XI. ROBERT NICOLL. 34? Wttdted the gift of industry, and had no liking for steady work. He wanted also the sense of manly independence, and thought it no degradation to leave his wife and chil¬ dren to be maintained by the brain-work of the noble Southey, while he himself retired to Highgate Grove to discourse transcendentalism to his disciples, looking down contemptuously upon the honest work going forwaid be¬ neath him amidst the din and smoke of London. With remunerative and honorable employment at his command, he preferred stooping to accept the charity of friends; and with the loftiest ideas of philosophy, he yet conde¬ scended to humiliations in his life from which many a day-laborer would have shrunk. How different in spirit was Southey ! always an indefatigable worker ; laboring not merely at works of his own choice, and at taskwork often tedious and distasteful, but also unremittingly and with the utmost eagerness seeking and storing knowledge purely for the love of it. Every day, every hour had its allotted employment : engagements to publishers requir¬ ing punctual fulfilment ; the current expenses of a large household (at one time including Coleridge's wife and children) duly to provide for; Southey had no crop growing while his pen was idle. "My ways" he used to say, "are as broad as the king's high-road, and my means lie in an inkstand." Robert Nicoll wrote to a friend, after reading the " Recollections of Coleridge," " What a mighty intellect was lost in that man for want of a little energy, — a little determination." Nicoll himself was a true and brave spirit, cut off in his youth, but not before he had encountered and overcome great difficulties in life. At his outset, while carrying on a small business as a book¬ seller, he found himself weighed down with a debt of 348 USES OF DIFFICULTY. Chap. XI only twenty pounds, which he said he fell: weighing like a mill-stone round his neck," and that " if he had it paid he never would borrow again from mortal man." Writ¬ ing to his mother at the time he said, " Fear not for me, dear mother ; for I feel myself daily growing firmer aitd more hopeful in spirit. The more I think and reflect, — and thinking, not reading, is now my occupation, — I feel that, whether I be growing richer or not, I am growing a wiser man, which is far better. Pain, poverty, and ali the other wild beasts of life which so aifrighten others, I am so bold as to think I could look in the face without shrinking, without losing respect for myself, faith in man's high destinies, or trust in God. There is a point which it costs much mental toil and struggling to gain, but which, when once gained, a man can look down from, as a traveller from a lofty mountain, on storms raging be¬ low, while he is walking in sunshine. That I have yet gained this point in life I will not say, but I feel myself daily nearer to it." It is not %ise, but effort, — not facility, but difficulty, that makes men. There is, perhaps, no station in life, in which difficulties have not to be encountered and over¬ come before any decided measure of success can be achieved. Those difficulties are, however, our best in¬ structors, as our mistakes often form our best experience Charles James Fox was accustomed to say that he hoped îîiore from a man who failed, and yet went on in spite of his failure, than from the buoyant career of the successful. " It is all very well," said he, " to tell me that a young man has distinguished himself by a brilliant first speech. He may go on, or he may be satisfied with his first tri¬ umph ; but show me a young man who has not succeeded ai fii'st, and nevertheless has gone on, and I will back that Cma^. XI. USES OF DIFFICULTY, 34^ young man to do better than most of those who have sue- Vneeded at the first trial." "We learn wisdom from failure much more than from success ; we often discover what will do, by finding out what will not do ; and probably he who never made a mistake, never made a discovery. Home Tooke used to say of his studies in intellectual philosophy, that he had become all the better acquainted with the country, through having had the good-luck sometimes to lose his way. And a distinguished investigator in physical science has left il on record that, whenever in the course of his researches h3 Wherever there is difficulty, the individual man must ^me out for better for worse. Encounter with it will train his strength, and discipline his skill ; heartening liim for future effort, as the racer, by being trained to Tun against the hill, at length courses with facility. The xoad to success may be steep to climb, but it puts to the proof the energies of him who would reach the summit. By experience a man soon learns how ob¬ stacles are to be overcome by grappling wdth them, how soft as silk the nettle becomes when it is boldly grasped, — and how powerful a principle of realizing the object proposed, is the moral conviction that we can and will accomplish it. Thus difficulties often fall away of themselves, before the determination to overcome them. In nine eases out of ten, if marched boldly up to they will Lee away. Like thieves, they often disappear at a glance. What looked like insuperable obstacles, like some great mountain chain in our w^ay, frowning danger and trial, are found to become practicable when ap¬ proached, and paths formerly unseen, though they may be narrow^ and difficult, open a way for us through the hills. Much will be done if we do b it try. Nobody knows what he can do till lie lias tried, and few try their best till they have been forced to do it. " If ^ could do such and such a thing," sighs the desponding youth. But he will never do, if he only wdshes. The desire must ripe® into purpose and effort ; and one energetic attempt is worth a thousand aspirations. Purposes, like eggs, un less they be hatched into action, will run into rottenness. it is these thorny " ifs," — the mutterings of impotence and despair, — which so often hedge round the field of Dossibility, and prevent anytliing being done or even X 354 MASTEBY OF DIFFICULTIES Chai-. XI attempted. ^ A difficulty," said Lord Lyndhurst, " is a thing to be cvercome grapple with it at once ; facility will come with practice, and strength and fortitude with repeated effort. Thus the mind and character may be trained to an almost perfect discipline, enabling it to move with a grace, spirit, and liberty, almost incömpre« hensible to those who have not passed through a sim» ilar experience. Everything that we learn is the mastery of a diffi¬ culty ; and the mastery of one helps us to the mastery of others. Things which may at first sight appear com¬ paratively valueless in education,— such as the study of the dead languages, and the relations of lines and sur¬ faces which we call mathematics, — are really of the greatest practical value, not so much because of the in¬ formation which they yield, as because of the develop¬ ment which they compel. The mastery of these studies evokes effort, and cultivates powers of application, which otherwise might have lain dormant. Thus one thing leads to another, and so the work goes on through life, — encounter with difficulty ending only where life or ^ progress ends. But indulging in the feeling of discour¬ agement never helped any one over a difficulty, and never will. D'Alembert's advice to the student who com¬ plained to him about his want of succees in mastering the first elements of mathematics was the right, one — " Go on, sir, and faith and strength will come to you." Nothing is easy, but was difficult at first, — not even so simple an act as walking. The danseuse, who turna a pirouette, the violinist who plays a sonata, have ac¬ quired their dexterity by patient repetition and after many failureru Carissimi, when praised for the ease and grao3 of his melodies, exclaimed, "Ah! you little Crai'. XI'. DISRAELI AND CLAY. 355 know with what difficulty this ease has been acquired.** Sir Joshua Reynolds, when once asked how long it had taken him to paint a certain picture, replied, "All my life." The orator, who pours his flashing thoughts with such apparent ease upon the minds of his hearers, achieves his wonderful power only by means of patient and persevering labor, after much repetition, and, like Disraeli, often after bitter disappointments. Henry Clay, the American orator, when giving advice to young men, thus described to them the secret of his success in the cultivation of his art : " I owe my success in life," said he, "chiefly to one circumstance, — that at the age of twenty-seven I commenced, and continued for years, the process of daily reading and speaking upon the contents of some historical or scientific book. These off-hand efforts were made, sometimes in a cornfield, at others in the forest, and not unfrequently in some distant barn, with the horse and the ox for my audi¬ tors. It is to this early practice of the art of all arts that I am indebted for the primary and leading im¬ pulses that stimulated me onward, and have shaped and moulded my whole subsequent destiny." Currrm, the Irish orator, when a youth, had a strong defect in his articulation, and at school he was known as " stuttering Jack Curran." While he was engaged in (he study of the law, and still struggling to overcome his defect, he was stung into eloquence by the sar¬ casms of a member of a debating club, who character-- ized him as " Orator Mum ; " for, like Cowper, when he stood up to speak, Curran had not on a previous occasion been able to utter a word. But the taunt raised his pluck ; and he replied with a. triumphant ipeech. This accidental discovery in himself of thâ 856 CURRAN, Chap. XL gift of eloquence, encouraged him to proceed in hig studies with additional energy and vigor. He cor¬ rected his enunciation by reading aloud, emphatically and distinctly, the best passages in our literature, for several hours every day, studying his features before a mirror, and adopting a method of gesticulation suited to his rather awkward and ungraceful figure. He also proposed cases to himself, which he detailed with as much care as if he had been addressing a jury. Cur- ran commenced business with the qualification which Iword Eldon stated to be the first requisite for distinc¬ tion as a barristery that is, "to be not worth a shib ling." We need not say how Curran's perseverance, energy, and genius, eventually succeeded. When Avork- ing his way laboriously and painfully at the bar, still oppressed by the diffidence wffich had overcome him in his debating club, he was on one occasion stung by the Judge (Robinson) into the following masterly re¬ tort. In a case under discussion, Mr. Curran observed "that he had never met the law as laid down by his lordship in any book in bis library." "That may be, sir," said the judge, in a contemptuous tone, "but I suspect that your library is very small." His lordship was notoriously a furious political partisan, the author of several anonymous pamphlets characterized by unu¬ sual violence and dogmatism. Curran, roused by ibis allusion to bis straitened circumstances, replied thus; "It is very true, my lord, that I am poor, and tha circumstance has certainly curtailed my library ; my books are not numerous, but they are select, and I hope they have been perused with proper dispositions I have prepared myself for this high profession by the study of a few good works, rather than by tbf ccmyv?* Chav. XI, WILLIAM CHAMBERS. 857 èition of a great many bad ones. I am not asliaraed of my poverty; but I should be ashamed of my wealth, could I have stooped to acquire it by servility and corruption. If I rise not to rank, I shall at least bo honest; and should I ever cease to be so, many an example shows me that an ill-gained elevation, by making me the more conspicuous, would only make me the more universally and the more notoriously contemptible." The most highly educated men are those who have been the most resolute in their encounter with difficul¬ ties. The extremest poverty has been no obstacle in the way of men devoted to the duty of self-culture. Professor Alexander Murray, the linguist, learned to write by scribbling his letters on an old wool-card with the end of a burnt heather stem. The only book which his father, who was a poor shepherd, pos¬ sessed, was a penny Shorter Catechism; but that, be¬ ing thought too valuable for common use, was carefully preserved in a cupboard for the Sunday catechisings. Professor Moor, when a young man, being too poor to purchase Newton's " Principia," borrowed the book, and copied the whole of it with his own hand. Many poor students, while laboring daily for their living, have only been able to snatch an atom of knowledge here and there at intervals, as birds do their food in winter time when the fields are covered with snow. They have struggled on, and faith and hope have come to them. A well-known author and publisher, William Chambers, of Edinburgh, speaking before an assem¬ blage of young men in that city, thus briefly described to them his humble beginnings, for their encourage« mont: "I stand before you," he said^ "a self-educalod 358 WILLIAM COBBETT, Chaï. XL man. My education was that which is supplied at the humble parish schools of Scotland; and it was only when I went to Edinburgh, a poor boy, that I de« voted my evenings, after the labors of the day, to the cultivation of that intellect which the Almighty has given me. From seven or eight in the morning till nine or ten at night, was I at my business as a book¬ seller's apprentice, and it was only during hours after these, stolen from sleep, that I could devote myself to study. I assure you that I did not read novels; my attention w^as devoted to physical science, and other useful matters. During that period, I taught myself French. I look back to those times with great pleas¬ ure, and am almost sorry I have not to go through the same troubles again. I reaped more pleasure when I had not a sixpence in my pocket, studying in a garret in Edinburgh, thsn I now find when sitting amidst all the elegances and comforts of a parlor." William Cobbett has himself told the interesting story of how he learned English Grammar, and, as a curious illustration of that brave man's pluck in grappling with a difficulty, we cannot do better than quote it here. " I learned grammar," he said, " when I was a private soldier m the pay of sixpence a day. The edge of my berth, or that of my guard-bed, was my seat to study in ; my knap« sack was my bookcase ; a bit of board lying on my lap was my writing-table ; and the task did not demand any¬ thing like a year of my life. I had no money to purchase candle or oil ; in winter time it was rarely that I could get any evening light but that of the fire, and only my turn even of that. And if I, under such circumstances^ and without parent or friend to advise or encourage me, accomplished this undertaking, what excuse can there Chap. XI SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. be for any youth, however poor, however pressed with business, or however circumstanced as to room or other conveniences ? To buy a pen or a sheet of paper T was compelled to forego some portion of food, though in n state of half-starvation ; I had no moment of time that Ï could call my own ; and I had to read and to write amidst the talking, laughing, singing, whistling, and brawling of at least half a score of the most thoughtless of men, and that, too, in the hours of their freedom from all control. Think not lightly of the farthing that I had to give, now and then, for ink, pen, or paper ! That farthing was, alas ! a great sum to me ! I was as tall as I am now ; Ï had gj'eat health and great exercise. The whole of the money, not expended for us at market, was twopence a week for each man. I remember, and well I may ! that on one occasion I, after all necessary expenses, had, on a Friday, made shifts to have a half-penny in reserve, which I had destined for the purchase of a red-herring in the morning ; but, when I pulled off my clothes at night, so hungry then as to be hardly able to endure life, I found that I had lost my half-penny ! I buried my head under the miserable sheet and rug, and cried like a child ! And again I say, if I, under circumstances like these, could encounter and overcome this task, is there, can there be, in the whole world, a youth to find an excuse for the non-performance ? " A very different man was Sir Samuel Eomilly, but not less indefatigable as a diligent self-cultivator. He was the son of a jeweller, descended from a French refu¬ gee ; he received little education in his early years, but overcame all his disadvantages by unwearied application, and by efforts constantly directed towards the same end, " I determined" he says, in his autobiography, " when 3 JOHN LEYDEN. Chap. XI was between fifteen and sixteen years of age, to apply myself seriously to learning Latin, of which I, at that time, knew little more than some of the most familiar rules of grammar. In the course of three or four years, during which I thus applied myself, I had read almost every prose writer of the age of pure Latinity, except those who have treated merely of technical subjects, such as Varro, Columella, and Celsus. I had gone three times through the whole of Livy, Sallust, and Tacitus. I had studied the most celebrated orations of Cicero, and trans¬ lated a great deal of Homer. Terence, Virgil, Horace, Ovid, and Juvenal, I had read over and over again." He also studied geography, natural history, and natural philosophy, and obtained a considerable acquaintance with general knowledge. At sixteen, he was articled to a clerk in Chancery ; worked hard ; was admitted to the bar ; and his industry and perseverance insured success. He became Solicitor-General under the Fox administra¬ tion, in 1806, and steadily worked his way to the highest celebrity in his profession. Yet he was always haunted by a painful and almost oppressive sense of his own disqualifications, and never ceased laboring to remedy them. His autobiography is a lesson of instructive facts, worth volumes of sentiment, and is well deserving of a careful perusal. Sir Walter Scott was accustomed to cite the case of his young friend John Ley den as one of the most remarkable Illustrations of the power of perseverance which he had ever known. The son of a shepherd in one of the wildest valleys of Roxburghshire, he was almost entirely self-edu¬ cated. Like many Scotch shepherds' sons — like Hogg, who taught himself to write by copying the letters of a printed book 2s he lay watching his dock on the hill-side— CnA.p. XI JOHN LEYDEN. 361 like Cairns, who from tending sheep on the Lammermoors raised himself by dint of application and industry to the professor's chair which he now so worthily holds — like Murray, Ferguson, and many more, Leyden was early in¬ spired by a thirst for knowledge. When a poor barefooted boy, he walked six or eight miles across the moors daily to learn reading at the little village school-house of Kirk- ton ; and this was all the education he received ; the rest he acquired for himself. He found his way to Edinburgh to attend the college there, setting the extremest penury at utter defiance. He was first discovered as a frequenter of a small bookseller's shop kept by Archibald Constable, afterwards so well known as a publisher. He w^ould pass hour after hour perched on a ladder in mid-air, with somi) great folio in his hand, forgetful of the scanty meal of bread and water which aw^aited him ai his miserable lodging. Access to books and lectures comprised all within the bounds of his wishes. Thus he toiled and battled at the gates of science until his unconquerable perseverance carried everything before it. Before he had attained his nineteenth year he had astonished all the professors in Edinburgh by his profound knowledge of Greek and Latin, and the general mass of information he had acquired. Having turned his view^s to India, he sought employment in the civil service, but failed. He was however informed that a surgeon's assistant's commis sion was open to him. But he w^as no surgeon, and knew no more of the profession than a child. He could how¬ ever learn. Then he was told that he must be ready to pass in six months ! Nothing daunted, he set to work, to acquire in six months what usually requires three years. At the end of six months he took his degree wdth honor Scott and a few friends helped to fit him )ut; and hf 16 862 PROFESSOR LEE. Chap XI sailed for India, after publishing his beautiful poem "The Scenes of Infancy." In India he promised to become one of the greatest of oriental scholars, but unhappily he was cut off by fover caught by exposure, and died at an early ago. But perhaps the life of the late Dr. Lee, Professor of Hebrew, at Cambridge, furnishes one of the most re¬ markable instances in modern times of the power of perseverance and resolute purpose in working out an honorable career in literature. He received his educa¬ tion at a charity-school at Lognor, near Shrewsbury, but so little distinguished himself there, that his master pro¬ nounced him to be one of the dullest boys that ever passed through his hands. He was put apprentice to a carpenter, and worked at that trade until he arrived at manhood. To occupy his leisure hours he took to reading ; and, some of the books containing Latin quo¬ tations, he became desirous of ascertaining what they meant. He bought a Latin Grammar, and proceeded tc learn Latin. As Stone, the Duke of Argyle's gardener, said, long befoie, " Does one need to know anything more than the twenty-four letters, in order to learn everything else that one wishes ? " Lee rose early and sat up late, and he succeeded in mastering the Latin before his ap¬ prenticeship was out. Whilst working one day in some place of worship, a copy of a Greek Testament fell in his way, and he was immediately, filled with the desire to learn this language too. He accordingly sold some of his Latin books, and purchased a Greek Grammar and Lexicon. He took pleasure in learning, and he soon learned the language. Then he sold his Greek books, and bought Hebrew ones, and learned that language, unassisted by any instructor, without any hope of fame Chap. XL PROCESSOR LEE. 363 or reward, but simply following the î>ent of his genius. He next proceeded to master the Chaldee, Syriac, and Samaritan dialects. But his studies began to tell upon his health, and brought on disease in his eyes through his long night watchings with his books. Having laid them aside for a time and recovered his health, he went on with his daily work. His character as a tradesman being excellent, his business improved, and his means enabled him to marry, which he did when twenty-eight years old. He determined now to devote himself to the maintenance of his family, and to renounce his luxury of book-learning ; accordingly he sold all his books. He might have continued a working carpenter all his life, had not the chest of tools upon which he depended for subsistence been consumed by fire, and destitution stared him in the face. He was too poor to buy new tools, so he bethought him of teaching children their letters ; a profession requiring the least possible capital. But though he had mastered many languages, he was so defective in the common branches of knowledge, that at first he could not teach them. Resolute of purpose, how¬ ever, he assiduously set to work, and taught himself arith¬ metic and writing to such an extent as to be able to impart the knowledge of these branches to little children. His unaffected, simple, and beautiful character gradually attracted friends, and the acquirements of the " learned carpenter " became bruited abroad. Dr. Scott, a neigh¬ boring clergyman, obtained for him the appointment of master of a charity-school in Shrew^sbury, and introduced him to a distinguished Oriental scholar. These friends supplied him with books, and Lee successively mastered the Arabic, Persic, and Hindostanee languages. He continued to pursue his studies while on permanent dut;^ 364 LATE LEARNERS. CnAî XI. în tbe local militia of the county ; gradually acquiring greater proficiency in languages. At length his kind patron, Dr. Scott, enabled him to enter Queen's College, Cambridge ; and after a course of study, in which hg distinguished himself by his mathematical acquirements, a vacancy occurring in the professorship of Arabic and Hebrew, he was worthily elected to fill the honorable oflSce. Besides ably performing his duties as a professor he voluntarily gave much of his time to the instruction of missionaries going forth to preach the Gospel to east¬ ern tribes in their own tongue. He also made transla¬ tions of the Bible in several Asiatic dialects ; and having mastered the New Zealand tongue, he arranged a Gram¬ mar and Vocabulary for two New Zealand Chiefs who were then in England, which books are now in daily use A in the New Zealand schools. Such, in brief, is the re¬ markable history of Dr. Samuel Lee ; and it is but the counterpart of many similarly instructive examples of the power of perseverance in self-culture, as displayed in the lives of many of the most distinguished of our liter¬ ary and scientific men.* There are many more illustrious names which might be cited to prove the truth of the common saying that " it is never too late to learn." Even at advanced years men can do much, if they will determine on making a beginning. Sir Henry Spelman did not begin the study of science until he was between fifty and sixty years of age. Franklin was fifty before he fully entered upon the study of Natural Philosophy. Dryden and Scott wore not known as authors until each was in his fortieth year. Boccaccio was thirty-five when he entered 7ipon * See the admirable and well-known book, " The PursuiC cf Knowî- ßdge under Difficulties.'' Chai-. XL EARLY CLEVERNESS. 365 his literary career, and Alfieri was forty-six when he commenced the study of Greek. Dr. Arnold learnt German at an advanced age, for the purpose of reading Niebuhr in the original ; and in like manner James Watt, when about forty, while working at his trade of an instru¬ ment-maker in Glasgow, learnt French, German, and Italian, to enable himself to peruse the valuable works on mechanical philosophy in these languages. Robert Hall was once found lying upon the floor, racked by pain, learning Italian in his old age, to enable him to judge of the parallel drawn by Macaulay between Milton and Dante. Handel was forty-eight before he published any of his great works. Indeed hundreds of instances might be given of men who struck out an entirely new path, ami successfully entered on new studies, at a compara¬ tively advanced time of life. None but the frivolous or the indolent will say, " I am too old to learn." And here we would repeat what we have said before, that it is not men of genius who move the world, and take the lead in it, but men of steadfastness, purpose, and indefatigable industry. Notwithstanding the many curi¬ ous stories which have been told about the infancy of men of genius, it is nevertheless true that early clever¬ ness is no test whatever of the height to which the grown man will reach. Precocity is quite as often a symptom of disease as an indication of intellectual vigor in youth. What becomes of all the " remarkably clever children ? " Where are all the duxes and prize boys ? Trace them through life, and it will often be found that the dull boys, who were invariably beaten at school, have shot ahead^ of them. The clever boys are rewarded, but the prizes which they gain by their greater quickness and facility rarely prove of service to thcin. What ouglit rather to 866 ILLUSTRIOUS DUNCES. Chap. JííL be rewarded is, the endeavor, the struggle, and the obedi¬ ence ; for it is the youth who does his best though en^' dowed with an inferiority of natural powers, that ought above all others to be encouraged. An interesting chapter might be written on the sul>3 ject of illustrious dunces, — dull boys, but brilliant men. We have room, however, for only a few instances. Pie- tro di Cortona, the painter, was thought so stupid that he was nicknamed " Ass's Head " when a boy ; and Tomaso Guidi was generally known as " heavy Tom " (Massaccio Tomasaecio), though by diligence he after¬ wards raised himself to the highest eminence. Newton, when at school, stood at the bottom of the lowermost form but one. The boy above Newton having kicked him, the dunce showed his pluck by challenging him to a fight, and beat him. Then he set to work with a will, o 7 and determined also to vanquish his antagonist as a scholar, which he did, rising to the top of his class. Many of our greatest divines have been anything but precocious. Isaac Barrow, when a boy at the Charter¬ house School, was notorious chiefly, for his strong temper, pugnacious habits, and proverbial idleness as a scholar ; and he caused such grief to his parents, that his father used to say that if it pleased God to take from him any of his children, he hoped it might be Isaac, the least promising of them all. Adam Clarke, when a boy, was proclaimed by his father to be " a grievous dunce ; " though he could roll large stones about. Dean Swift, one of the greatest writers of pure English, waá " plucked " at Dublin University, and only obtained his recommendation to Oxford " special! gratia." The well- known Dr. Chalmers and Dr. Cook ^ wure boys together * Lato rrofe*9or of Moral riiiiosopiiy at St. Andrew's. Chat XL SHERIDAN. — CHATTERTON. — CLIVE. 367 at tL<> parish school of St. Andrew's ; and they were found so stupid and mischievous, that the master, irri¬ tated beyond measure, dismissed them both as incor¬ rigible dunces. The brilliant Sheridan showed so little capacity as a boy, that he was presented to a tutor by his mother witli the complimentary accompaniment, that he was an incor¬ rigible dunce. Walter Scott was all but a dunce when a boy, always much readier for a " bicker," than apt at his lessons. At the Edinburgh University, Professor Dalzell pronounced upon him the sentence that " Dunco he was, and dunce he would remain." Chatterton was returned on his mother's hands as "a fool, of whom nothing could be made." Burns was a dull boy, good only at athletic exercises. Goldsmith spoke of himself as a plant that flowered late. Alfleri left college no wiser than he entered it, and did not begin the studies by which he distinguished himself, until he had run half over Europe. Robert Clive was a dunce, if not a repro¬ bate, when a youth ; but always full of energy, even in badness. His family, glad to get rid of him, shipped him off to Madras ; and he lived to lay the foundations of the British power in India. Napoleon and Wellington were both dull boys, not distinguishing themselves in any way at school.^ Of the former the Duchess d'Abrantes says, "ho had good health, but was in other respects like ^ A "writer in the " Edinburgh Review," (July, 1859,) observes that " the Duke's talents seem never to have developed themselves, antil some active and practical field for their display was placed im¬ mediately before him. He was long described by his Spartan mother, who tliougnt him a dunce, as only * food for powder.' He gained no sort of distinction, either at Eton or at the French Military College of Angers." It is not improbable that a competitive examination, at Ais day, might have excluded him from the army. SG8 STORY OF A DUNCE. Chap. XI other boys/' John Howard, the Philanthropist, was an¬ other illustrious dunce, learning next to nothing during^ the seven years that he was at school. Stephenson, as a youth, was distinguished chiefly for his skill at putting and wrestling, and attention to his work. The brilliant Sir Humphry Davy was no cleverer than other boys ; his teacher, Mr. Da vies Gilbert, said of him, " while he was with me, I could not discern the faculties by which he was so much distinguished." Indeed, he himself in after-life considered it fortunate that he had been left to " enjoy so much idleness " at school. Watt was a dull scholar, notwithstanding the pretty stories told about his precocity ; but he was, what was better, patient and per¬ sévérant, and it was by that means, and by his carefully cultivated inventiveness, that he was enabled to perfect his steam-engine. What Dr. Arnold said of boys is equally true of men, — that the difference between one boy and another con¬ sists not so much in talent as in energy. Given perse¬ verance, and energy soon becomes habitual. Provided the dunce has persistency and application, he will inev¬ itably head the cleverer fellow without these qualities. Slow but sure, wins the race. It is perseverance that explains how the position of boys at school is so often reversed in real life ; and it is curious to note how some who were then so clever have since become so common¬ place ; whilst others, dull boys, of whom nothing was expected, slow in their faculties but sure in their pace, have assumed the position of leaders of men. The au¬ thor of this book, when a boy, stood in the same class with one of the greatest of dunces. One teacher after another had tried his skill upon him and failed. Cor¬ poral punishment, the fool's cap, coaxing, and earnest v?HAP. XI. SUCCESS DEPENDS ON PERSEVERANCE. 369 entreaty, proved alike fruitless. Sometimes the experi¬ ment was tried of putting him at the top of his class, and it was curious to note the rapidity with which he gravitated to the inevitable bottom, like a lump of lead passing through quicksilver. The youth was given up by many teachers as an incorrigible dunce, — one of them pronouncing him to be "a stupendous booby.'' Yet, slow though he was, this dunce had a sort of dull energy of purpose in him, which grew with his, muscles and his manhood ; and, strange to say, when he at length came to take part in the practical business of life, he was found heading most of his school companions, and event¬ ually left the greater number of them far behind. The last time the author heard of him, he was chief magistrate of his native town. The tortoise in the right road, will beat a racer in the wrong. It matters not though a youth be slow, if he be but diligent. Quickness of parts may even prove a defect, inasmuch as the boy who learns readily will often forget quite as readily ; and also because he finds no need of cultivating that quality of application and perseverance which the slower youth is compelled to exercise, and which proves so valuable an element in the formation of every character. Davy said, " What I am I have made myself ; " and the same holds true univer¬ sally. The highest culture is not obtained from teachers wh3n at school or college, so much as by our own dili- genl; self-education when we have become men. Hence parents need not be in too great haste to see their chil¬ dren's talents forced into bloom. Let them watch and wait patiently, letting good example and quiet training do their work, and leave the rest to Providence. Let them see to it that the youth is provided, by free exer¬ cise of his bodily powers, with a full stock of physical Y 370 SUCCESS DEPENDS ON PEKSEVERANCE. Chap. XI health ; set him fairly on the road of self-culture ; care fully train his habits of application and perseverance and as he grows older, if the right stuff be in him, he will be enabled vigorously and effectively to cultivate ikÍ2Dsel£ OHAP. X11< FORCE OF EXAMPLE, 871 CHAPTER XII. EXAMPLE, — MODELS. ** Ever their phantoms rise before ns, Our loftier brothers, but one in blood ; By bed and table they lord it o'er us, With looks of beauty and words of good."—JoÄn Stetling, ** There is no action of man in this life, which is not the beginning of so long a chain of consequences, as that no human providence is high enough to give us a prospect to the end."—Thomas of Malmesbury, Example is one of the most potent of instructors, though it teaches without a tongue. It is the practical school of mankind, working by action, which is always more forcible than words. Precept may point to us the way, but it is rilent continuous example, conveyed to us by habits, and living with us in fact, that carries us along. Good advice has its weight ; but without the accompani- / ment of a good example, it is of comparatively small influence ; and it will be found that the common saying of " Do as I say, not as I do,'' is usually reversed in the actual experience of life. All persons are more or less apt to learn through the eye, rather than the ear ; and, whatever is seen in fact, makes a far deeper impression than anything that is read or heard. This is especially the case in early youth, when the eye is the chief inlet of knowledge. Whatever children see, they unconsciously imitate ; and they insen¬ sibly become like to those who are about them, — like Insects which take the color of the leaves they feed oiv PARENTAL EXAMPLE. Ci: kt. XIL Hence tlie vast importance of domestic training. For whatever may be the efficiency of our schools, the ex amples set in our Homes must always be of vastly greater influence in forming the characters of our future men and women. The Home is the crystal of society, — the very nucleus of national character ; and from tliat source, be it pure or tainted, issue the habits, prin¬ ciples, and maxims, which govern public as w^ell as private life. The nation comes from the nursery; pub¬ lic opinion itself is for the most part the outgrowth of the home ; and the best philanthropy comes from the iireside. " To love the little platoon we belong to in society," says Burke, "is the germ of all public affec¬ tions." From this little central spot, the human sym¬ pathies may extend in an ever widening circle, unt'l the world is embraced; for, though true philanthropy, like charity, begins at home, assuredly it does not end there. Example in conduct, therefore, even in apparently trivial matters, is of no light moment, inasmuch as it is constantly becoming inwoven with the lives of others, and contributing to form their characters for better or for worse. The characters of parents are thus con¬ stantly repeated in their children ; and the acts of af¬ fection, discipline, industry, and self-control, which they daily exemplify, live and act when all else which they may have learned through the ear has long been forgot¬ ten. Even the mute action and unconscious look of a parent may give a stamp to the character, which is never effaced ; and who can tell how much evil act has been stayed by the thought of some good parent, whose memory their children may not sully by the commission of an unworthy deed, or the indulgence of an impure Chap. XII. PARENTAL EXAMPLE. 375 thought ? The veriest trifles thus become of importance in influencing the characters of men. " A kiss from lây mother," said West, " made me a painter." It is on the direction of such seeming trifles when children, that the future happiness and success of men mainly depend, îbwell Buxton, when occupying an eminent and influen¬ tial station in life, wrote to his mother, " I constantly feel, especially in action and exertion for others, the ef¬ fects of principles early implanted by you in my mind." Buxton was also accustomed to remember with gratitude the obligations which he owed to an illiterate man, a game-keeper, named Abraham Plastow, with whom he played, and rode, and sported — a man who could neither read nor write, but was full of natural good sense and mother-wit. "What made him particularly valuable," says Buxton, " were his principles of integrity and honor. He never said or did a thing in the absence of my mother of which she would have disapproved. He al¬ ways held up the highest standard of integrity, and filled our youthful minds with sentiments as pure and as gen¬ erous as could be found in the writings of Seneca or Cicero. Such was my first instructor, and, I must add, my best." Lord Langdale, looking back upon the admirable example set him by his mother, declared, " If the whole world were put into one scale, and my mother into the other, the world would kick the beam." Mrs. Schimmel Pennine]:, m her old age, was accustomed to call to mind tlAC personal influence exercised by her mother upon the society amidst which she moved When she entered a ropm, It had ilie effect of imme¬ diately raising the tone of the conversí^tion, and vs if purifying the morai —-al) seeming t# 874 ACTS AND CONSEQUENCES. Chap. XU breathe more freely, and stand more erectly. " In her presence," says the daughter, " I became for the time transformed into another person." So much does the moral health depend upon the moral atmosphere that h breathed, and so great is the influence daily exercised by parents over their children by living a life before their eyes, that perhaps the best system of parental in¬ struction might be summed up in these two words : " Improve thyself." There is something solemn and awful in the thought hat there is not an act nor thought in the life of a human being but carries with it a train of consequences, the end of which we may never trace. ISiot one but, to a certain extent, gives a color to our own life, and insensibly in¬ fluences the lives of those about us. The good deed or thought will live, even though we may not see it fructify but so will the bad ; and no person is so insignificant as to be sure that his example will not do good on the one hand, nor evil on the other. There is, indeed, an es¬ sence of immortality in the life of man, even in this world. IN o individual in the universe stands alone; he is a component part of a system of mutual dependencies ; and by his several acts, he either increases or diminishes the sum of human good now and forever. As the pres. ent is rooted in the past, and the lives and examples of aiir forefathers still to a great extent influence us, so are we by our daily acts contributing to form the condition and character of the future. The living man is a fruit formed and ripened by the culture of all the foregoing centuries. Generations six thousand years deep stand behind us, each laying its hands upon its successor's shoulders, and the living generation continues the mag¬ netic current of acfion and example destined to bind the CiTAP. XII ACTS AND CONSEQUENCES. 375 remotest past with the most distant future. No man's acts die utterly ; and though his body may resoh e into dust and air, his good or his bad deeds will still be bring¬ ing forth fruit after their kind, and influencing generations of men for all time to come. It is in this momentoua and solemn fact, that the great peril and responsibility of human existence lies. Mr. Babbage has so powerfully expressed this idea in a noble passage in one of his writings, that we here ven¬ ture to quote his words : " Every atom," he says, " im¬ pressed with good or ill, retains at once the motions which philosophers and sages have imparted to it, mixed and combined in ten thousand ways with all that is worthless and base ; the air itself is one vast library, on whose pages are written forever all that man has ever said or whispered. There, in their immutable but unerring characters, mixed with the earliest as well as the latest sighs of mortality, stand forever recorded vows unre¬ deemed, promises unfulfilled ; perpetuating, in the united movements of each particle, the testimony of man's changeful will. But, if the air we breathe is the never- failing historian of the sentiments we have uttered, earth, air, and ocean, are, in like manner, the eternal witnesses of the acts we have done ; the same principle of the equality of action and reaction applies to them. No mo¬ tion impressed by natural causes, or by human agency, is ever obliterated If the Almighty stamped on the i)row of the first murderer the indelible and visible mark of his guilt. He has also established laws by which ever^ succeeding criminal is not less irrevocably chained to the testimony of his crime ; for every atom of his mortal frame, through whatever changes its severed particles may migrate, will still retain adiiering to U, through 876 DUTY OF SETTING A GOOD EXAMPLE. Chap. XH every combination, some movement derived from thai very muscular effort by which the crime itself was per petrated/' Thus, ev^ery act we do or word we utter, as well as every act we witness or word we hear, carries with it an influence which extends over, and gives a color, not only to the whole of our future life, but makes itself felt upoii the whole frame of society. We may not, and indeed cannot possibly trace the influence working itself into action in its various ramifications amongst our children, our friends, or associates ; yet there it is assuredly, work¬ ing on forever. And herein lies the great significance if setting forth a good example, — a silent teaching which even the poorest and least significant person can enforce by his daily life. There is no one so humble, but that he owes to others this simple but priceless in¬ struction. Even the meanest condition may thus be made useful ; for the Ifght set in a low place shines as faithfully as that set upon a hill. Everywhere, and un¬ der almost all circumstances, however externally adverse, — in moorland shielings, in cottage hamlets, in the close alleys of great towns, — the true man may grow. He who tills a space of earth scarce bigger than is needed for his grave, may work as faithfully, and to as good purpose, as the heir to thousands. The commonest workshop may thus be a school of industry, science, and good morals, on the one hand ; or of idleness, folly, and depi'avity, on the other. It all depends on the individual men, and the use they make of the opportunities for good which offer themselves. A life well spent, a character uprightly sustained, is no slight legacy to leave to one's children, and to the world \ for it is the most eloquent lesson of virtue and the se- Chap. XII DOING, NOT TELLING. 377 verest reproof of vice, while it continues an enduring source of the best kind of riches. Well for those who can say, as Pope did, in rejoinder to the sarcasms of Lord Hervey, " I think it enough that my parents, such as they were, never cost me a blush, and that their son, such as he is, never cost them a tear." It is not enough to tell others Avhat they are to do, but to exhibit the actual example of doing. What Mrs« Chisholm described to Mrs. Stowe as the secret of her success, applies to all life. I found," she said, " that if we w^ant anything done^ we must go to ^vork and do ; it is of no use merely to talk, — none whatever." It is poor eloquence that only shows how a person can talk. Had Mrs. Chisholm gone about lecturing, her project, she was persuaded, would never have got beyond the region of talk ; but when people saw what she was doing and had actually accomplished, they fell in with her views and came forward to help her. Hence the most beneficent worker is not he who says the most eloquent things, or even who thinks the most loftily, but he who does the most eloquent acts. True-hearted persons, even in the humblest station in life, Avho are energetic doers, may thus give an impulse to good works out of all proportion, apparently, to their actual station in society. Thomas Wright might have talked about the reclamation of criminals, and John I^ounds about the necessity for Lagged Schools, and yet have done nothing ; instead of which they simply set to work without any other idea in their minds than that of doing, not talking. And how the example of even the poorest man may tell upon society, hear what Dr. Guthrie, the apostle of the Ragged School movement, says of the influence which the example of John Pounds, 878 JOHN POUNDS. Chap. XHc the humble Portsmouth cobbler, exercised upon his own working career : — " The interest I have been led to take in this cause is an example of how, in Providence, a man's destiny,— his course of life, like that of a river, — maybe deter¬ mined and affected by very trivial circumstances. It ia rather curious, — at least it is interesting to me to re¬ member,— that it was by a picture I was first led to take an interest in ragged schools, — by a picture in an old, obscure, decaying burgh that stands du the shores of the Frith of Forth, the birthplace of Thomas Chalmers. I went to see this place many years ago, and, going into an inn for refreshment, I found the room covered with pictures of shepherdesses with their crooks, and sailors in holiday attire, not particularly interesting. But above the chimney-piece there was a large print, more re¬ spectable than its neighbors, which represented a cob¬ bler's room. The cobbler was there himself, spectacles on nose, an old shoe between his knees, — the massive forehead and firm mouth indicating great determination of character, and, beneath his bushy eyebrows, benevo¬ lence gleamed out on a number of poor ragged boys and girls who stood at their lessons round the busy cobbler. My curiosity was awakened ; and in the inscription I read how this man, John Pounds, a cobbler in Ports¬ mouth, taking pity on the multitude of poor ragged chil¬ dren left by ministers and magistrates, and ladies and gentlemen, to go to ruin on the streets, — how, like a good shepherd, he gathered in these wretched outcasts,—• how he had trained them to God and to the world,— and how, while earning his daily bread by the sweat of his brow, he had rescued from misery and saved to society not less than five hundred of these children. I felt ashame lion with certain members named by him, was also ac-» cepted. The vote was passed late at night, and early next moining Sir John, anticipating the delays of official¬ ism and red tape, proceeded to bankers in the city, and borrowed of them, on his own personal security, the sum of 70.000/., which he dispatched the same evening tc CiîAP. XÍI. HIS ENERGETIC PROMPTITUDE. 395 those merchants who were in the most urgent need of assistance. Pitt meeting Sir John in the House, ex pressed his great regret that the pressing wants of Man« clicster and GlasgOAV could not be supplied so soon as was desirable, adding, " The money cannot be raised for some days." " It is already gone 1 it left London by lO'Tiigljt's mail ! " was Sir John's triumphant reply ; and in afterwards relating the anecdote he added, with a smile of pleasure, " Pitt was as much startled as if I had stabbed liim." To the last this great, good man worked on usefully and cheerfully ; setting a great example for his family and for his country. In so laboriously seeking others' good, it might be said that he found his own, — not wealth, for his generosity seriously impaired his pri¬ vate fortune, but happiness, and self-satisfaction, and the peace that passes knowledge. A great patriot, with magnificent powers of work, he nobly did his duty to his country ; yet he was not neglectful of his owm household and home. His sons and daughters grew up to honor and usefulness ; and it was one of the proudest things Sir John could say, when verging on his eightieth year, f his influence and power. There is a truthfulness in action as well as in words, which is essential to uprightness of character. A man 'pust really be what he seems or purposes to be. When an American gentleman wrote to Granville Sharp, that from respect for his great virtues he had named one of his sons after him, Sharp wrote : " I must request you to teach him a favorite maxim of the family whose name you have given him, — Always endeavor to he really what you would wish to ajpjpear. This maxim, as my father informed me, was carefully and humbly practised by his father, whose sincerity, as a plain and honest man, thereby became the principal feature of his character, both in public and private life." Every man who re¬ spects himself, and values the respect of others, will carry out the maxim in act, — doing honestly what he proposes to do, — putting the highest character into his work, scamping nothing, but priding himself upon his integrity and conscientiousness. Once Cromwell said to Bernard, — a clever but somewhat unscrupulous lawyer, I understand that you have lately been vastly wary in your conduct ; do not be too confident of this ; subtlety may deceive you, integrity never will." Men whose acts are at direct variance with their words, command no respect, and what they say has but little weight ; even truths, when uttered by them, seem to come blasted from tlieir lips. The true character acts rightly, whether in secret or in the sight of men. That boy was well trained who, when asked why he did not pocket some pears, for nobody was there to see, replied, " Yes, there was. T was there to se« Chaf. XIlî. IMPOETANOE OF GOOD HAi>ITS. 403 myse]f ; and I don^t intend ever to see myself do a dis¬ honest thingo" This is a simple but not inappropriate illustration of principle, or conscience, dominating in the character, and exercising a noble protectorate over it ; not merely a passive influence, but an active power regulat¬ ing the life. Such a principle goes on moulding the character hourly and daily, growing with a force that operates every moment. Without this dominating in¬ fluence, character has no protection, but is constantly liable to fall away before temptation ; and every sucb temptation succumbed to, every act of meanness or dis« honesty, however slight, causes self-degradation. It mat¬ ters not wiiether the act be successful or not, discovered or concealed ; the man is no longer the same, but another person ; and he is pursued by a secret uneasiness, hy self-reproach, or the workings of what we call conscience, which is the inevitable doom of the guilty. And here it may be observed how greatly the char¬ acter may be strengthened and supported by the cultiva¬ tion of good habits. Man, it has been said, is a bundle of habits : and habit is second nature. Metastasio enter¬ tained so strong an opinion as to the power of repetition in act and thought, that he said, " All is habit in man¬ kind, even virtue itself." Butler, in his " Analogy," hnpresses the importance of careful self-discipline, and firm resistance to temptation, as tending to make virtue habitual, vso that at length it may become more easy to be good than to give way to sin. " As habits belonging to the body," he says, " are produced by external acts, so habits of the raiud are produced by the execution of inward practical purposes, i, e., carrying them into acte or acting upon them, — the principles of obedience, ve¬ racity,- justice, and charity." And again. Lord Brougham 404 HABITS CONSITTUTE CHARACTER. Chap. XIII. sajs, when enforcing the immense importance of training and example in youth, " I trust everything under God to habit, on which, in all ages, the lawgiver, as well as the schoolmaster, has mainly placed his reliance ; habit, which makes everything easy, and casts the difficulties UDon the deviation from a wonted course." Thus make X. sobriety a habit, and intemperance will be hateful ; make prudence a habit, and reckless profligacy will become ro- vol ting to every principle of conduct which regulates the life of the individual. Hence the necessity for the great¬ est care and watchfulness against the inroad of any evil habit ; for the character is always weakest at that point at which it has once given way ; and it is long before a principle restored can become so firm as one that has never been moved. It is a fine remark of a Russian « writer, that " Habits are a necklace of pearls ; untie the knot, and the whole unthreads." Wherever formed, habit acts involuntarily, and without effort ; and, it is only when you oppose it, that you find how powerful it has become. What is done once and again, soon gives facility and proneness. The habit at first may seem to have no more strength than a spider's web ; but once formed, it binds as with a chain of iron. The small events of life, taken singly, may seem exceed¬ ingly unimportant, like snow that falls silently, flake by flake : yet accumulated, these snow-flakes form the ava¬ lanche. Self-respect, self-help, application, industry, integrity, — all are of the nature of habits, not beliefs. Principles, in fact, are but the names which we assign to habits ; for the principles are wmrds, but the habits are the things themselves : benefactors or tyrants, according as they are •good or evil. It thus happens that as we grow" older, a portion of ou^' free activity and individuality becomes Chap. XIIL GROWTH OF HABIT. 405 suspended in habit ; our actions become of the nature of fate ; and we are bound by the chains which we have woven around ourselves. It is indeed scarcely possible to over-estimate the im¬ portance of training the young to virtuous habits. In them they are the easiest formed, and when formed they last for life ; like letters cut on the bark of a tree, they grow and widen with age. " Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." The beginning holds within it the end ; the first start on the road of life determines the direction and the destination of the journey ; ce rCest que h pre¬ mier pas qui coûte, " Remember," said Lord Collingwood to a young man whom he loved, "before you are five« and-twenty you must establish a character that will serve you all your life." As habit strengthens with age, and character becomes formed, any turning into a new path becomes more and more difficult. Hence, it is often harder to unlearn than to learn ; and for this reason the Grecian flute-player was justified who charged double lees to those pupils who had been taught by an inferior master. To uproot an old habit is sometimes a more painful thing, and vastly more difficult, than to wrench out a tooth. Try and reform a habitually indolent, or improvident, or drunken person, and, in a large majority of cases you will fail. For the habit in each case has wound itself in and through the life until it has become an integral part of it, and cannot be uprooted. Hence, as Mr. Lynch observes, " the wisest habit of all is the habit of care in the formation of good habits." Even happiness itself may become habitual. There is a habit of looking at the bright side of things, and also tf looking at the dark side. l)r. Johnson has «aid that 406 MANNEES AND MOKALS. Chap. XIII the habit of looking at the best side of a thing is worth more to a man than a thousand pounds a year. And we possess the power, to a great extent, of so exercising the will as to direct the thoughts upon objects calculated to yield happiness and improvement rather than their oppo- sites. In this way the habit of happy thought may be made to spring up like any other habit, And to bring up men or women with a genial nature of this sort, a good temper, and a happy frame of mind, is perhaps of even more importance, in many cases, than to perfect them in much knowledge and many accomplishments. As daylight can be seen through very small holes, so little things will illustrate a person's character. Indeed character consists in little acts, well and honorably per¬ formed ; daily life being the quarry from which we build it up, and rough-hew the habits which form it. One of the most marked tests of character, is the manner in which we conduct ourselves towards others. A graceful behavior towards superiors, inferiors, and equals, is a constant source of pleasure. It pleases others'because it indicates respect for their personality; but it gives ten¬ fold more pleasure to ourselves. Every man may to a large extent be a self-educator in good behavior, as in everything else ; he can be civil and kind, if he will, though he have not a penny in his purse. Gentleness in society is like the silent influence of light, which gives color to all nature ; it is far more powerful than loudness or force, and far more fruitful. It pushes its way quietly and persistently, like the tiniest daffodil in spring, which raises the clod and thrusts it aside by the simple persist¬ ency of growing. Morals and luanners, which give color to life, are oí greater importance than laws, which are but one of theij Chap. XÎII. ÄiANNERS. 407 manifestations. The law touches us here and there, but manners are about us everywhere, pervading society like the air we breathe. Good manners, as we call them, are neither more nor less than good behavior ; consisting of courtesy and kindness; for benevolence is the prepon¬ derating element in all kinds of mutually beneficial and pleasant intercourse amongst human beings. " Civility,** said Lady Montague, "costs nothing and buys every¬ thing." The cheapest of all things is kindness, its exer¬ cise requiring the least possible trouble and self-sacrifice. " Win hearts," said Burleigh to Queen Elizabeth, " and you have all men's hearts and purses." If we would only let nature act kindly, free from affectation and ar¬ tifice, the results on social good-humor and happiness would be incalculable. Those little courtesies which form the small change of life, may separately appear of little intrinsic value, but they acquire their importance from repetition and accumulation. They are like the spare minutes, or the groat a day, which proverbially produce such momentous results in the course of a twelvemonth, or in a lifetime. Manners are the ornament of action ; and there is a way of speaking a kind word, or of doing a kind thing, which greatly enhances their value. What seems to be done with a grudge, or as an act of condescension, is scarcely accepted as a favor. Yet there are men who pride themselves upon their gruffness ; and though they may possess virtue and capacity, their manner is often found to render them almost insupportable. It is diffi¬ cult to like a man who, though he may not pull your nose, habitually wmunds your self-respect, and takes a pride in saying disagreeable things to you. There are others who are dreadfully condescending, and cannot 408 CULTIVATION OF MANNER. Chap. XIII avoid seizing upon every small opportunity of making their greatness felt. When Abernethy was canvassing for the office of surgeon to St. Bartholomew Hospital, he v'^.alled upon such a person, — a rich grocer, one of the governors. The great mai behind the counter seeing the great surgeon enters immediately assumed the grand air towards the supposed cuppliant for his vote. " I pre¬ sume, sir, you wain my vote and interest at this mo¬ mentous epoch of your life." Abernethy, who hated humbugs, and felt nettled at the tone, replied : " No, I don't: I want a pennyworth of figs; come, look sharp and wrap them up: I want to be off!" The cultivation of manner, — though in excess it is foppish and foolish, — is highly necessary in a person who has occasion to negotiate with others in matters of business. Affability and good-breeding may even be regarded as essential to the success of a man in any emi¬ nent station and enlarged sphere of life ; for the want of it has not unfrequently been found in a great measure to neutralize the results of much industry, integrity, and honesty of character. There are, no doubt, a few strong tolerant minds which can bear with defects and angu¬ larities of manner, and look only to the more genuine qualities ; but the world at large is not so forbearant, and cannot help forming its judgments and likings mainly according to outward conduct. Another mode of displaying true politeness is, consid« Eration for the opinions of others. It has been said of dogmatism, that it is only puppyism come to its full growth; and certainly the worst form this quality can assume, is that of opinionativeness and arrogance. Let men agree to differ, and, when they do differ, bear and forbear? Principles and opinions may be maintained 'Jhj*». Xílí. OF THE GßEAT HEART. 409 with perfect suavity, without coming to blows or uttering hard words ; and there are circumstances in which words are blows, and inflict wounds far less easy to heal. As bearing upon this point, we quote an instructive little parable spoken some time since by an itinerant preacher of tlie Evangelical Alliance on the borders of Wales; "As I was going to the hills,he said, "early one misty morning, I saw something moving on a mountain side, so strange-looking that I took it for a monster. When I came nearer to it, I found it was a man. When I came up to him, I found he was my brother." The inbred politeness which springs from right- heartedness and kindly feelings, is of no exclusive rank or station. The mechanic who works at the bench may possess it, as well as the clergyman or the peer. It is by no means a necessary condition of labor, that it should in any respect be either rough or coarse. The politeness and refinement which distinguish all classes of the people in many continental countries amply prove that those qualities might become ours too — as doubtless they will become with increased culture and more general social intercourse — without sacrificing any of our more genuine qualities as men. From the highest to the lowest, the richest to the poorest, to no rank or condition in life has nature denied her highest boon, — the great heart. There never yet existed a gentleman but was lord of a great heart. And this' may exhibit itself under the hodde3n gray of the peasant as well as under the laced coat of the noble. Robert Burns was once taken to task by a young Edinburgh blood, with whom he was walk¬ ing, for recognizing an honest farmer in the open street. Why, you fantastic gomeral," exclaimed Burns, " it was not the great coat, the scone bonnet, and the saunder*» 18 410 WILLIAM AND CHARLES (rRANT. Chap. XIIÏ. boot liose that I spoke to, but the man that was in them 5 and the man, sir, for true worth, would weigh down you and me, and ten more such, any day." There may be a homeliness in externals, which may seem vulgar to those who cannot discern the heart beneath ; but, to the right- minded, character will always have its clear insignia. William and Charles Grant were the sons of a farmei in Inverness-shire, whom a sudden flood stripped of every¬ thing, even to the very soil which he tilled. The farmer and his sons, with the world before them where to choose, made their way southward in search of employment until they arrived in the neighborhood of Bury in Lancashire, From the crown of the hill near Walmesley they sur¬ veyed the wide extent of country which lay before them, the river Irwell making its circuitous course through the valley. They were utter strangers in the neighborhood, and knew not which way to turn. To decide their course tlioy put up a stick, and agreed to pursue the direction in which it fell. Thus their decision was made, and they journeyed on accordingly until they reached the village of Ramsbotham, not far distant. They found employment in A print-work, in which William served his apprentice¬ ship ; and they commended themselves to their employers their diligence, sobriety, and strict integrity. They plodded on, rising from one station to another, until at length the two sons themselves became employers, and after many long years of industry, enterprise, and benev¬ olence, they became rich, honored, and respected by all who knew them. Their cotton-mills and print-worka gave employment to a large population. Their well-dh reeled diligence made the valley teem with activity, joy,, health, and opulence. Out of thei r abundant wealth they gave liberally to all worthy objects, erecting churclies« Chap. Xlll. WILLIAM AND CHARLES GRANT. 41 il founding schools, and in all ways promoting the well- being of the class of working-men from which they had sprung. They afterwards erected, on the top of the hill above Walmesley, a lofty tower in commemoration of the early event in their history which had determined the place of their settlement. The brothers Grant became widely celebrated for their benevolence and their various goodness, and it is said that Mr. Dickens had them in his mind's eye when delineating the character of the brothers Cheeryble. One amongst many anecdotes of a similar kind may be cited to show that the character was by no means exaggerated. A Manchester warehouseman pub¬ lished an exceedingly scurrilous pamphlet against the firm of Grant Brothers, holding up the elder partner to ridi¬ cule as " Billy Button." William was informed by some one of the nature of the pamphlet, and his observation was that the man would live to repent of it. " Oh ! " said the libeller, when informed of the remark, " he thinks that some time or other I shall be in his debt ; but I will take good care of that." It happens, however, that men in business do not always foresee who shall be their cred¬ itor, and it so turned out that the Grants' libeller became a bankrupt, and could not obtain his certificate and begin business again without obtaining their signature. It seemed to him a hopeless case to call upon that firm for any favor, but the pressing claims of his family forced him to make the application. He appeared before the man whom he had ridiculed as " Billy Button " accord¬ ingly. He told his tale and produced his certificate. " You wrote a pamphlet against us once ? " said Mr Grant. The supplicant expected to see his document thrown into the fire ; instead of which Grant signed the üame of the firm, and thus completed the necessary ceav 412 WILLIAM AND CHAELKS GRANT. OttAV. Xïït tificate. "We make it a rule," said he, handing it back, "never to refuse signing the certificate of an honest tradesman, and we have never heard that you were any^ thing else." The tears started into the man's eyes, "Ah," continued Mr. Grant, "you see my saying was true, that you would live to repent writing that pamphlet. I did not mean it as a threat — I only meant that some day you would know us better, and repent having tried to injure us." " I do, I do, indeed, repent it." " Well, well, you know us now. But how do you get on — what are you going to do ? " The poor man stated that he had friends who would assist him when his certificate was ob- tained. " But how are you off in the mean time ? " The answer was, that, having given up every farthing to his creditors, he had been compelled to stint his family in even the common necessaries of life, that he might be enabled to pay for his certificate. " My good fellow, this will never do ; your wife and family must not suffer in this way ; be kind enough to take this ten-pound note to your wife from me : there, there, now — don't cry, it will be all well with you yet ; keep up your spirits, set to work like a man, and you will raise your head among the best of us yet." The overpowered man endeavored with choking utterance to express his gratitude, but in vain ; and putting his hand to his face, he went out of the room sobbing like a child. The True Gentleman is one whose nature has been fashioned after the highest models. It is a grand old ■ name, that of Gentleman, and has been recognized as a rank and power in all stages of society. " The Gentle» man is always the Gentleman," said the old French gem eral to his regiment of Scottish gentry at Rousillon, " and invariably proves himself such in need and in danger." Chap. XII] THE GENTLEMAN. 413 To possess this character is a dignity of itself, command¬ ing the instinctive homage of every generous mind, and those who will not bow to titular rank, will yet do hom¬ age to the Gentleman. His qualities depend not upon fashion or manners, but upon moral worth, — not on personal possessions, but on personal qualities. The Psalmist briefly describes him as one " that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart." The Gentleman is eminently distinguished for his self- respect. He values his character, — not so much of it only as can be seen of others, but as he sees it himself ; having regard for the approval of his inward monitor. And, as he respects himself, so, by the same law, does he respect others. Humanity is sacred in his eyes : and thence proceed politeness and forbearance, kindness and charity. It is related of Lord Edward Fitzgerald that, while travelling in Canada, in company with the Indians, he was shocked by the sight of a poor squaw trudging along laden with her husband's trappings, while the chief himself walked on unencumbered. Lord Edward at once relieved the squaw of her pack by placing it upon his own shoulders. Here was a beautiful instance of what the French call politesse de cœur, — the genuine polite¬ ness of the heart. The true gentleman has a keen sense of honor,-— scrupulously avoiding mean actions. His standard of probity in word and action is high. He does not shaille nor prevaricate, dodge nor skulk ; but is honest, upright, and straightforward. His law is rectitude, — action in right lines. When he says yes, it is a law ; and he dares to say the valiant no at the fitting season. The gentle¬ man will not be bribed; only the low-minded and un «4 WELLINGTON. — WELLESLEY. Chap. Xlll principled will sell themselves to those who are interested in buying them. When the upright Jonas Hanway officiated as commissioner in the victualling department, he declined to receive a present of any kind from a con« tractor ; refusing thus to be biassed in the performance of his public duty. A noble trait of the same kind is to be noted in the life of the Duke of Wellington. Shortly after the battle of Assaye, one morning the prime min¬ ister of the Court of Hyderabad waited upon him for the purpose of privately ascertaining what territoiy and what advantages had been reserved for his master in the treaty of peace between the Mahratta princes and the Nizam, To obtain this information the minister offered the gen¬ eral a very large sum, —• considerably above 100,000¿ Looking at him quietly for a few seconds, Sir Arthur said, " It appears, then, that you are capable of keeping a secret?" " Yes, certainly," replied the minister. '''Then so am said the English general, smiling, and bowed the minister out. It was to Wellington's great honor, that though uniformly successful in India, and with the power of earning in such modes as this enormous wealth, he did not add a farthing to his fortune, and returned to England a comparatively poor man. A similar sensitive¬ ness and high-mindedness characterized his noble rela¬ tive, the Marquis of Wellesley, who, on one occasion, positively refused a present of 100,000/. proposed to bo given him by the Directors of the East India Company on the conquest of Mysore. " It is not necessary," said he, "for me to allude to the independence of my charac¬ ter, and the proper dignity attaching to my office ; other reasons besides these important considerations lead mç to decline this testimony, which is not suitable to me. à ikinh of nothing hut our army, I should be much dis« Ciup. Xîll. A ^^OBLE PEASANT. tressed to curtail the share of those brave soldiers." And the Marquis's resolution to refuse the present re« mained unalterable. Riches and rank have no necessary connection with genuine gentlemanly qualities. The poor man may be a true gentleman,—in spirit and in daily life. He may be honest, truthful, upright, polite, temperate, courage¬ ous, self-respecting, and self-helping, — that is, be a true gentleman. The poor man with a rich spirit is in all ways superior to the rich man with a poor spirit. To borrow St. Paul's words, the former is as " having noth¬ ing, yet possessing all things," while the other, though possessing all things, has nothing. The first hopes every¬ thing, and fears nothing ; the last hopes nothing, and fears everything. Only the poor in spirit are really poor. He who has lost all, but retains his courage, cheerfulness, hope, virtue, and self-respect, is still rich. For such a man, the world is, as it were, held in trust ; his spirit dominating over its grosser cares, he can still walk erect, a true gentleman. Occasionally, the brave and gentle character may be found under the humblest garb. Here is an old illus¬ tration, but a fine on'e. Once on a time, when the Adige suddenly overflowed its banks, the bridge of Verona was cart-ied away, with the exception of the centre arch, on which stood a house, whose inhabitants supplicated help from the windows, while the foundations were vi si bly giving way. "I will give a hundred French Ion is," said the Count Spolverini, who stood by, " to any person who will venture to deliver these unfortunate people." A young peasant came forth from the crowd, seized a boat, and pusUea into the stream. He gained the pier, '^ceived the wiioL family into the boat, and made for 416 FRANCIS, EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA. Chap llTl the shore, where he landed them in safety. " Here is your money, my brave young fellow," said the count. No," was the answer of the young man, " I do not sell my life ; give the money to this poor family, who haví3 îieed of it." Here spoke the true spirit of the Gentle¬ man, though he was but in the garb of a peasant ! Mr. Turnbull, in his excellent work on "Austria," re¬ lates an anecdote of the late Emperor Francis, in illuS" tration of the manner in which the government of that country has been indebted, for its hold upon the people, .0 the personal qualities of its princes. " At the time when the cholera was raging at Vienna, the emperor, with an aide-de-camp, was strolling about in the streets of the city and suburbs, when a corpse was dragged past on a litter unaccompanied by a single mourner. The unusual circumstance attracted his attention, and he learned, on inquiry, that the deceased was a poor per¬ son who had died of cholera, and that the relatives had not ventured on what was then considered the very dangerous office of attending the body to the grave. ^ Then,' said Francis, * we will supply their place, for none of my poor people should go to the grave without that last mark of respect ; ' and he followed the body to the distant place of interment, and, bareheaded, stood to see every rite and observance respectfully performed." Fine though this illustration may be of the qualities of the gentleman, we can match it by another equally good^ of two English navvies in Paris, as related in a morning paper only a few months ago. " One day a hearse was observed ascending the steep Rue de Clichy on its way to IMontmartre, bearing a coffin of pop'ar wood with its 3old corpse. Not a soul followed, — not «ven the living îlog of the dead man, if he had one. TL V" rainy Omap. XIII. TWO ENGLISH NAVVIES. 417 and dismal ; passers-by lifted the hat as is usual when a funeral passes, and that was all. At length it passed two English navvies, who found themselves in Paris on their way from Spain. A right feeling spoke from be¬ neath their serge jackets. ^ Poor wretch 1 ' said the one to the other, ' no one follows him ; let us two follow I * And the two took off their hats, and walked bareheaded after the corpse of a stranger to the cemetery of Mont¬ martre." Above all the Gentleman is truthful. He feels that truth is the " summit of being," and the soul of rectitude in human affairs. Lord Chesterfield, with all his French leanings, when he came to define a gentleman, declared that Truth made his success ; and nothing that he ever said commanded the more hearty suffrage of his nation. The Duke of Wellington, who had an inflexible horror of falsehood, writing to Kellerman, when that general was opposed to him in the Peninsula, told him that if there was one thing on which an English officer prided himself more than another, excepting his courage, it was his truthfulness. " When English officers," said he, " have given their parole of honor not to escape, be sure they will not break it. Believe me, — trust to their word ; the word of an English officer is a surer guar¬ antee than the vigilance of sentinels." True courage and gentleness go hand in hand. The brave man is generous and forbearant, never unforgiv¬ ing and cruel. It was finely said of Sir John Franklin by his friend Parry, that " he was a man who never •urned his back upon a danger, yet of that tenderness that he would not brush away a mosquito." A fine trait of character — truly gentle, and worthy of the spirit »f Bayard — was displayed by a French officer in the 2B 18# 418 mUE COURAGE AND GENTLENESS. Chap XIJ. cavalry combat of El Bodon in Spain. He had raised his sword to strike Sir Felton Harvey, but perceiving his antagonist had only one arm, he instantly stopped, brought down his sword before Sir Felton in the usual salute, and rode past. Notwithstanding the wail which we occasionally hear for the chivalry that is gone, our own age has witnessed deeds of bravery and gentleness, -— of heroic self-denial and manly tenderness, — which are unsurpassed in his¬ tory. The events of the last few years have shown that our countrymen are as yet an undegenerate race. On the bleak plateau of Sebastopol, in the dripping perilous trenches of that twelvemonths' leaguer, men of all classes proved themselves worthy of the noble inheritance of character which their forefathers have bequeathed to them. But it was in the hour of the greatest trial in India that the qualities of our countrymen shone forth the brightest. The march of Neill on Cawnpore, of Havelock on Lucknow, — officers and men alike urged on by the hope of rescuing the women and the children, — are events which the whole history of chivalry can¬ not equal. Outram's conduct to Havelock, in resigning to him, though his inferior officer, the honor of leading the attack on Lucknow, was a trait worthy of Sydney, and alone justifies the title which had been awarded to him of " the Bayard of India." The death of Henry Lawrence, — that brave and gentle spirit, — his last words before dying, " Let there be no fuss about me ; leê me be buried with the men^^ — the anxious solicitude of <8ir Colin Campbell to rescue the beleaguered of Luck liow, and to conduct his long train of women and chib dren by night from thence to Cawnpore, which hç (reached amidst the all but overpowering assault of the Cmap Xm. PKIVATE SOLUIÉiíá if AGRA 419 enemy^ — the care with \\hich led them across the perilous bridge, never ceasing his charge over then® «nliï he had seen the precious convoy safe on the road to Allahabad, and then burst upon the Gwalior contins gent like a thunderclap ; — such things make us feel proud of our countrymen, and inspire the conviction that the best and purest glow of chivalry is not dead, but vigorously lives among us yet. Even the common soldiers proved themselves gentle¬ men under their trials. At Agra, where so many poor fellows had been scorched and wounded in their encounter with the enemy, they were brought into the fort and tenderly nursed by the ladies ; and the rough, gallant fel¬ lows proved gentle as any children. During the weeks that the ladies watched over their charge, never a word was said by any soldier that could shock the ear of the gentlest. And when all was over, — when the mortally wounded had died, and the sick and maimed who sur¬ vived were able to demonstrate their gratitude, — they invited their nurses and the chief people of Agra to an entertainment in the beautiful gardens of the Taj, where, amidst flowers and music, the rough veterans, all scarred and mutilated as they were, stood up to thank their gentle countrywomen who had clothed and fed them, and minis¬ tered to their wants during their time of sore distress. In the hospitals at Scutari, too, many wounded and sick blessed the kind English ladies who nursed them ; and nothing can be finer than the thought of the poor suf¬ ferers, unable to rest through pain, blessing the shadow of Florence Nightingale as it fell upon tiieir pillow in the night-watches. The wreck of the Birkenhead cflP the coast of Africa QU the 27th of February, 1852, affords another meuK? m WRECK OF TH^ BIRKENHEAD. Chap. XIH rabie illustration of the chivalrous spirit of common men acting in this nineteenth centurj, of which any age might be proud. The vessel was steaming along the African coast with 472 men and 166 women and children on board. The men belonged to several regiments then serving at the Cape, and consisted principally of recruits, who had been only a short time in the service. At two o'clock in the morning, while all were asleep below, the ship struck with violence upon a hidden rock which pene¬ trated her bottom ; and it was at once felt that she must go down. The roll of the drums called the soldiers to arms on the upper deck, and the men mustered as if on parade. The word was passed to save the women and children ; and the helpless creatures were brought from below, mostly undressed, and handed silently into the boats. When they had all left the ship's side, the commander of the vessel thoughtlessly called out, " All those that can swim, jump overboard and make for the boats." But Captain Wright, of the 91st Highlanders, said, " No ! if you do that, the hoots with the women must he swamped ; " and the brave men stood motionless. There was no boat remaining, and no hope of safety ; but not a heart quailed ; no one flinched from his duty in that trying moment. " There was not a murmur nor a cry amongst them," said Captain Wright, a survivor, " until the vessel made her final plunge." Down went the ship, and down went the heroic band, firing a feu de joie as they sank beneath the waves. Glory and honor to the gentle and the brave ! The examples of such men never die, but like their memories, are immortal. There are many tests by which a gentleman may be known ; but there is one that never fails, — How does he exercise power over those subordinate to him ? How does CiTAP. Xlll. EXERCISE OF PERSOTÍAL POWER. 421 he conducl; himself towards women and children ? Hovf does the officer treat his men, the employer his servants, the master his pupils, and man in every station those who are weaker than himself ? The discretion, forbearance, and kindliness, with which power in such cases is used, may indeed be regarded as the crucial test of gentlemanly character. He who bullies those who are not in a posi¬ tion to. resist, may be a snob, but cannot be a gentleman. He who tyrannizes over the weak and helpless, may be a coward, but no true man. The tyrant, it has been said^ is himself but a slave turned inside out. Strength, and the consciousness of strength, in a right-hearted man, im parts a nobleness to his character ; but he will be most careful how he uses it ; for " It ÎS excellent To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant." Gentleness is indeed the best test of gentlemanliness. A consideration for the feelings of others, for his inferiors and dependants as well as his equals, and respect for their self-respect, will pervade the true gentleman's whole con¬ duct. He will rather himself suffer a small injury than, by an uncharitable construction of another's behavior, incur the risk of committing a great wrong. He will be forbearant of the weaknesses, the failings, and the errors, of those whose advantages in life have not been equal to his own. He will be merciful even to his beast. He will not boast of his wealth, or his strength, or his gifts. He will not confer favors with a patronizing air. Sir Walter Scott once said of Lord Lothian, " He is a man from whom one may receive a favor, and that's saying a great deal in these days." Lord Chatham has said that the gentleman is characterized by his preference of others to m ßlK RALPH ABERCROMBY. Chap. XIÏÏ himself in the little daily occurrences of life. In illustra* tiori of this ruling spirit of considerateness in a noble character, we may cite the anecdote of the gallant Sir Ralph Abercromby, of whom it is related, that when mortally wounded in the battle of Aboukir, he was car¬ ried in a littev on board the " Foudroyant;" and, to ease his pain, a soldier's blanket was placed under his heath trom which he experienced considerable relief. He asked what it was. " It's only a soldier's blanket," was the reply. " Whose blanket is it ? " said he, half lifting himself up. " Only one of the men's." " I wish to know the name of the man whose blanket this is." " It is Duncan Roy's, of the 42d, Sir Ralph." " Then see that Duncan Roy gets his blanket this very night." * Even to ease his dying agony, the general would not deprive the private soldier of his blanket for one night. The in¬ cident is as good in its way as that of the dying Sydney handing his cup of water to the private soldier on the field of Zutphen. The quaint old Fuller sums up in a few words the character of the true gentleman and man of action in describing that of the great admiral. Sir Francis Drake : " Chaste in his life, just in his dealings, true of his word ; merciful to those that were under him, and hating nothing go much as idlenesse ; in matters especially of moment, he was never wont to rely on other men's care, how trusty or skilful soever they might seem to be, but always con¬ temning danger, and refusing no toyl ; he was wont him¬ self to be one (whoever was a second) at every tarii| where courage, skill, or industry, w^as to be employed.'" * Bi'own's "Horae SubsecivaB.'* INDEX ABERCROMBT. ftBEROEOMBY, anecdote of Sir Ralph, 422. Abernethy, John, surgeon, 820, 408. Accidental, discoveries not, 97. Account, every man should keep, 288. Accuracy, habits of, 259, 319. Adams, Mr., astronomer, 30. Addison, Joseph, 80. 112. Adversity, uses of, 850. Agra, English soldiers at, 419. Agriculture, Sir John Sinclair's im¬ provements, 389. Aim high, 380, 400. Akenside, poet, 26. Alexander I. of Russia, 399. Alfieri, poet, 365, 386. All Souls, Oxford, motto at. 111. Amusement, rage for, 341. Angelo, Michael, 97,137. Apollonius Pergseus, discoveries of, 100. Apparatus, simple scientific, 103. Application, the price of success, 31, 67. Arithmetic, uses of, in life, 257, 288. Arkwright, Sir Richard, 23, 46. Armstrong, Sir W., engineer, 30. Arne, Dr., musician, 175. Arnold, Dr., his teaching, 326; on comic literature, 341 ; a late stu¬ dent, 365; a cheerful worker, 388. Artists, industry of, 136. Astronomy, discoveries in, 98,100,122. Attention, habits of, 43, 320. Attorneys, distinguished sons of, 30. Audubon, ornithologist, 77 Austria, anecdote of Emperor of, 416. Babbage, on human responsibility, 375. Bach, Sebastian, musician, 175. Bacon, liOrd, 20, 32,112. Bacon, sculptor, 25,136. Bafän, navigator, 26. BROTHEBTOI^. Banks, sculptor, 141. Barbers, illustrious, 23, 47, lüis Barclay, Da7id, merchant, 277. Barrow, Isaac, divine, 317, 36® Barry, painter, 136, 158. Battle of Life, 19, 352. Baxter, divine. 111, 185. Beethoven, musician, 175, 383. Beginning well, 290. Behavior, 406. Bell, Sir C., physiologist, 30,118. Belper, peerage of, 193. Bentham, Jeremy, on time. 111. Bernard, Sir Thomas, 301. Bewick, Thos., wood-engraver, 26, ICf Bickersteth, H. (Lord Langdale), 18Ü Bidder, G-. P., engineer, 69. Biography, uses of, 19, 384. Bird, painter, 136,139. Birkenhead., wreck of the, 419. Black, chemist, 103. Blackburn, and the Peels, 53. Blacksmith, an artistic, 166. Blackstone, Sir Wm., lawyer, 30. Blake, painter, 139, 145. Bloomfield, poet, 25. Blucher, Marshal, 210. Boccaccio, a late learner, 364. Bodily exercise, uses of, 309. Bolingbroke, saying of, 329. Book learning, 328 ; uses of bodui 384. Borrowing, evils of, 287. Boulton, Matthew, manufacturer, M 51. Boyle, the Hon. Mr., 33. Boys, energy in, 368. Brave, example of the, 383. Bricklayers, illustrious, 24. Bridge, invention of suspension, 9S Bright, Mr., on economy, 283. Brindley, engineer, 24, 63, 330. Britten, John, author. 83. Brotherton, Joseph M. P., &?, 306^ 421 INDEX, BROrOHABf. Brougham, Lord, his industry, 35; his punctuality, 265 ; his working- power, 316; on habit, 403. Brown, geologist, 132. Brown, Sir Samuel, 99. Brunei, Sir I., engineer, 99. Bulwer, Sir E. L., his industry, 36; his method of working, 320. Bunyan, John, author, 26. Burke, Edmund, 30, 351. Burleigh, Cecil, Lord, his despatch of business, 260 ; on kindness, 4OT. Burney, Dr., musician, 110. Bums, Kobert, poet, his class, 24 ; on indejsendence and use of money, 279, 285 ; his physique, 317 ; on character, 409. Burritt, Elihu, blacksmith and lin¬ guist, 110, 314. Bury, the Peels of, 58. Business qualities, 252. Business genius of Wellington, 266. Butchers, illustrious sons of, 26. Buxton, Powell, on resolution, 204, 207 ; his career, 248 ; on force of study, ,818 ; moulded by personal influence, 373, 381; his cheerful¬ ness, 888. Byron, Lord, 86. Byronism, 310. Caithness. Sir John Sinclair's im¬ provements in, 390. Calculation, mental, 69. Callcott, painter, 138. Campbell, Lord, 30, 196. iampbell, poet, 30. Campbell, Sir Colin (Lord Clyde), 210, 418. Canning on character, 897. Carey, missionary, 25, 75, 386. Oarissimi, on violin-playing, 354. Carlyle, T., anecdote of his persever¬ ance, 78; on books, 829. Carpenters, illustrious, 24. Cavendish, Mr., philosopher, 83. Ceramic manufacture, 65. Chambers, Wm., publisher and au¬ thor, 357. Chalmers, Dr., divine, 275, 366. Chantrey, sculptor, 26, 136, 153. Character— is a rich legacy, 376 ; edu¬ cation of, 382 ; its importance, 396 ; character is power, 899. Charles IX. of Sweden, 204. Charter is. Colonel, 401. Chatterton, 317, 367. Chaucer, poet, as man of business, 253. Cheerfulness, 74, 387, 405. Chesterfleld, Earl of, 180. Chimney-sweepers, 231, 300. BENMAIf. Chisholm, Mrs., on saying and doinit 377. Chivalry, modern, 418. Circulation, discovery of the, 115. Civility, cultivation of, 407. Clarke, Adam, divine, 88, 317, 866. Clarke, Sir J,, on competitive examl* nation, 396. Clarkson, slavery abolitionist, 246. ■ Clay, Henry, his study of oratory, 855. Clergymen, illustrious sons of. 30. Clever children, what becomes cf the, 365. Clive, Lord, 30, 367. Clyde, Lord, 210, 418. Cobbett, Wm., his self-education, 358 Cobden, Mr., on thrift, 282. Coleridge, S. T., poet, 80, 107, 846. Collingwood, Lord, 307, 3S1, 405. Columbus, navigator, 100. Comic literature, 341. Complaints of life, 257, 335. Competitive examination, 335, Confidence, want of, an evil, 321. Conic sections, discovery of, 100. Conscientiousness, 402. Constant, Benjamin, author, 344. Cook, Captain, navigator, 24. Cook, Professor, a dunce, 366. Coral islands, formation of, 100- Cortona, Pie tro di, 366. Cotton manufacture, its establish¬ ment, 46. Courage and gentleness, 417 Cowper, poet, 254. Cox, David, painter, 136. Cramming not education, 335, 339. Crauford, earldom of, 181. Criminals, reclamation of, 298. Cromwell, Oliver, on integrity, 402 Crystal Palace, design of, 108. Cuneiform character, 79. Cunningham, Allan, author, 24. Curran, Irish orator, 356. Cuvier, naturalist, 107, 118. Daguesseau, Chancellor of Franc« 111, 385. D'Alembert's advice, 354. Dalton, chemist, 72, 109. Dargan, Mr., advice of, 260, Darwin, Dr., author, 110. Davy, Sir H., his origin, 3Ö; his firaf apparatus, 105 ; his character, 106 his boyhood, 368. Debt, slavery of, 287. Decision, 210, 262, 321. Defeat, generals great by, 349 Defoe, author, 26^. Delhi, English at, 217. De Maistre, on patient Waiting, 74 Penman, Ann, 143. INDEX. 425 BENMAN. Denman, Lord, 30. Despair, school of, 311, 334. Despatch of business, 260. Determination, invincible, 251. De Witt, statesman, 261. Dick, Robert, geologist, 26. Diflaculty, uses of, 348. Digestion and success, 311. Discontent of students, 310. Dishonest gains, 275. Disraeli, Mr., politician and author, 34,37,400. Dodsley, author, 26. Domenichino, painter, 138. Douglas, anecdote of the, 383. Drake, Admiral, 30, 422. Drew, Samuel, origin, 25; his career, 86; on frugality, 385; on biogra¬ phy, 385. Drinking, vice of, 281, 294. Dryden, poet, 364. Dudley, Lord, on books, 385. Dunces, illustrious, 366. Dunning, Judge, 3Ó. Dupin, on English probity, 274. Eokermann, conversation with Goethe, 21. Economy, habits of, 280. Edgworth, Mr , on attention, 43 ; edu¬ cation of character, 380. Education through difficulty, 353. Edwardes, Colonel, 30, 316. Edwards, engineer, 24. Edwards, Thomas, naturalist, 25. Eldon, Lord, 112, 196. ^ Electricity, discoveries in, 101. Employment, uses of, 40, 311. Energy, 203, 210, 265, 317, 368. Energy in money-making, 301. English in India, 30, 38, 210, 418. English liberty, characteristics of, 17. Erskine, Lord, his industry, Ü12; ori¬ gin, 194; rules of conduct, 400. Etty, printer, 26, 136. Example, influence of, 371. Excellence, how achieved, 31, 318. Exercise, bodily, 309. Facilities and difficulties, 32, 255, 337. Failures in life, 257. Families, old and new English, 180. Faraday, Professor, 26. 106. Fast young men, 292, 343. Ferguson, James, natural philosopher, 103, 318. Fichte, J. G., professor, 287. Fisheries founded by Sir J. Sinclair, 392. Fitzgerald, Lord Edward, 413. Flaxman, sculptor, 136,143. HARDIN6E. Flechier, bishop, 300. Foley peerage, founder of, 182. Force of purpose, 204 ; of industr;/ 40, 136; of example, 371. Foreigners' opinions of English char acter, 20. Forgotten inventors, 42. Foster, J., essayist, 25. Foundling Hospital reformed by Haa< way, 228. Fox, Charles James, 260, 348. Franklin, Benjamin, 101, 103, 364, 398. Franklin, Sir John, 39, 417. French and English education coo trasted, 22. Frugality, habits of, 281. Fuller, Andrew, divine, 317. Fuller's character of Drake, 422. Gainsborough, painter, 136,139. Galileo, discovery of the pendulum by, 98. Galvani, discovery of electricity, 101. Generosity, in business, 273, 286. Genius, definition of, 6ö, 102. Genlis, Madame de. 111. Gentility, rage for, 291. Gentleman, the true, 409, 412. Gentleness and courage, 406, 417. Geology, discoveries in, 100,123. Getting on, 332. Giardini, on violin-playing, 73. Gibbon, E., his industry, 112. Gibson, J., sculptor, 25. Gifford, editor of ' Quarterly,' 25,104. Gifford, Judge, 30. Gilpin, painter. 136. Girtin, artist, 159. Goethe, on English character, 21. Goldsmith, Oliver, 30, 367. Good, Dr. Mason, 109-10. Government, function of, 17. Government situations, 335. Graham, Sir J., on self-raised men, Grant, Brothers Cheery ble, 410. Great men, 18. Grosteste, anecdote of Bishop, Grote, Mr., historian, 254. Guidi^ Tomaso, painter, 366. Guido Reni, painter, 385. Gurney family, 249, 382. Guthrie, Dr., and John Pounds, 377 Habit, force of, 290, 403. Hale, Sir Matthew, 110, 112, 386. Hall, Marshall, physician 119. Hall, Robert, divine, 365. Haller, Condorcet's eloge of. 386. Handel, musician, 174, 365, 382, 38S Hanway, Jonas, 224, Hardiuge, Lord, 30, 426 INDEX. hardwick. Hard>iick, Lord, 30. Hargreaves' spinning jenny, 48. Harrison, chronometer maker, 24. Haryey, Dr., and circulation of the blood, 115. Hastings, Warren, 30, 211. Haydn, musician, 174, 382. Haydon, painter, 157, 287, 387. Hazlitt, on business, 252. Health, physical, 310, 314. Heroism in India, 38, 211, 418. Herschel, astronomer, 26, 121. High standard of living necessary, 29o > Hobson, Admiral, 25. Hodson, of Hodson's Horse, 30, 218, 311, 351, 389. Hogarth, painter, 139. Ilolcroft, author, 26. Home training, its importance, 372. Honesty the best policy, 273. Honesty, prevalence of, in business, 2/5. Hook, Rev. Dr., 75. Hope, its importance, 75, 203. Horner, Francis, his father's advice as to economy, 2851 on continuous ap¬ plication, 319; on personal inter¬ course, 381 ; on books, 386 ; charac¬ ter, 397- Howard, John, philanthropist, 224; a dunce, 388. Hume, David, historian, 112. Hume, Joseph, M. P., 92. Hunter, John, physiologist, his origin, 24 ; his museum, 31 ; his industry, 72; his career, ll3; study of facts, 114, 329. Huntingdon, preacher, 26. Idleness, evils of, 311. Imitation in children, 371. Immortality of human actions, 374. Impatience, 290, 321, 324, 334. Impressment of seamen, 244. Improvident classes, 281. Independence secured by frugality, 285. Tndiaj English in, 30, 39, 211, 418. Individualism and English freedom, 20, 23. Industry, a marked feature in English character, 39; leaders of, 41, 53; persistent, 107, 210 ; of artists, 135 ; industry and the Peerage, 180; all honest industry honorable, 299. Inferior classes, 282. Institutions and men, 15. integrity in business, 273. Inventions and inventors, 26 ; steam- engine, 26,42 ; inventors principally worliing men, 42 imDSAT. Jackson, painter, 25,136. Jackson, Wm., musician, 176. Jenner, Dr., his discovery of vaccin» tion, 115. Jerrold, Douglas, on comic literature, 341. Jervis, John (Lord St. Vincent), 210, 289. Johnson, Dr., on observation, 98; oa genius, 102 ; controversy with Gran ville Sharp, on impressment, 244 on complaints of the world, 258 ; on debt, 288. Jones, Inigo, architect, 24,136. Jonson, Ben, 24. Kay, assistant of Arkwright, 48. Keats, poet, 31. Kemp, architect, 162. Kepler, astronomer, 68. Kirke White, poet, 26,110. Knowledge is power, 327; contrasted with wisdom, 328. Labor a blessing, 256. Labor considered as an educator, 41, 312,352. Laborers, illustrious, 26. Laborious application necessary in all pursuits, 31, 255. Labor-saving processes in education fallacious, 322. Lammenais on decision of character, 207. Lancaster, Joseph, educator, 26. Langdale, Lorcl, judge, 200, 373. Lansdowne peerage. Sir W. Petty, founder of, 191. Lansdowne, Lord, on personal inter course, 381. Late learners, 364. Lawrence, Sir Henry, 216, 418. Lawrence, Sir John, 216. Lawrence, Sir T.,'painter, 26, 136. Lawyers raised to the peerage, 194. Layard, Austen, traveller, 30, 39, 80 Leaders of industry, 40. Learning and wisdom contrasted, 328. Ledyard, traveller, his promptitude 210. Lee, Professor, Orientalist, 25, 104, 362. Legislation, irs power over-estimated, 16. Lely, Sir P., painter, 381. Ieonards, Lord St., judge, 195. Lessing, saying of, 22. Ley den, John, physician, 360. Liberty rests on individual charactei 17. Light, discoveries in, 35, 98' Lindsay, Mr., M. F., 28. INDEX, 42Î LIPPEESHEr. Lîppershoj, spectacle-makor, 99. Literary culture over-estimated, 327. Little thingSj 100, 258, 372. Living "witliiu the means, 285 ; too high, 291. Livingstone, Dr., missionary, 25, 39, 221. Locke, John, on personal expenditure, 288 ; on cramming, 325. Locomotive, invention of the, 45. London merchants raised to the peer¬ age, 182. London sti^eets in 1750, 226. Lothian, Lord, Sir W. Scott's observa¬ tion on, 421. Loudon, landscape-gardener, 85. Love of money, 308. Loyola, Ignatius, 320, 386. Luther, Martin, reformer, 386. Lynch's Lectures, 304. Lyndhurst, Lord,'195, 354. Lytton, Sir E. B., 34, 36, 320. Macaulay, Lord, 31. Maclise, painter, 136. Maistre, De, on waiting, 74. Malesherbes, Lord Lansdowne on, 381. Malthus, D.,on physical training, 311. Manners, cultivation oL 406. Mansfield, Lord, 194. Mar, earldom of, 181. Marine Societj', four.iling of, 227. Marshman, missionary, 76. Martin, painter, 136, 160. Martyn, missionary, 219. Masons, illustrious, 24, Mathematics, uses of, 100, 354. Mather, Cotton, influence of his Es¬ says, 385. Meeanee, battle of, 212. Mechanical work, uses of, 41, 313 ; education, 339. Mechanism of the age, 337. Melancthon, reformer, on time. 111. Melbourne, Lord, on self-help, 255. Mendelssohn, musician, 349. Method, uses of, 260. Meyerbeer, musician, 175. Middle class, eminent men of the, 29; extravagances, 291. Military peerages, 194. Mill, J. S., author, 15, 254. Miller, Hugh, geologist, origin, 24; on work as the best of teachers, 41; necessity his teacher, 107 ; his ca¬ reer, 13Ô ; on integrity, 273 ; act of self-denial, 294. Milnér, the brothers, divines, 25. ftlilnes, R. M., on mechanical labor, 314. Milton, John, origin. 30 ; as man of business. 253; on physical culture, OPPOETUNITIES. SÖ9 ; on self-respect, 332 ; on bockig 384. Minton, H., manufacturer, 64. Misfortune, causes of, 257. Missionaries, illustrious. 75, 219, 386 Models of character, 380. Money, nses of, 279 ; love of, 302. Monkey, cupidity of the, 304. Montaigne, author, 399. Montalembert, on Indian rebellioa, 39 ; on passion for government em ployment, 336. Montesquieu, laborious authorship, 112. . Montfort, de, descendant of, 181. Moor, Professor, his industry, 357. Moreau, General, great in defeat, 350. Morrison, missionary, 25. Mortality among the poor in 1765,230. Mozart, musician, 174. Muley Moluc, warrior, 205. Mulready, painter, 141. Murchison, Sir R., 26, 133. Murray, Professor, humble begin¬ nings, 357. Mutiny, the Indian, 214. Nailmakinq at Stourbridge and th« Foley family, 182. Napier, Sir C., his energy in India, 212; on the conduct of gentlemen, 292. Napoleon, his energy, 208 ; a dull ho) 867. National progress and decay, 16. Navvies, anecdote of two English, in Paris, 416. Necessity a good teacher, 102,255,350. Nelson, Lord, 30 ; on time, 263. Nervous system, discoveries in, 118. Newcomen, inventor, 26, 43, 102. Newton, Sir I., his origin, 30 ; his method of study, 68; accidental de¬ struction of his papers, 78 ; fall of the apple, 97 ; his apparatus, 103 ; industry, 112; Master of the Mint, 254 ; his mechanical labor in youth, 314 ; a dunce at school, 366. Nicholson, Colonel, in India, 217. Nicoll, Rolaert, author, 347. Nineveh marbles, discovery of, 79. Nwllekens, sculptor, 142. Normanby, founder of peerage of; 186, Norris, India-house clerk, 80. Norsemen, character of, 202. Northcote, painter, 136, 383. Nottingham and the Halls, 119. Novel-reading, 341. Observation, intelligent, 98. Opie, painter, 25,103, 136. Opportunities, art of seizing 104^ 169 42S INDEX. ORATORY. Oratory, learnt through difficulty, S54. Dutram, Sir J., 418. ©wen, Dr., naturalist, 31, 113. Palmerston, Lord, 34, 315. Parish poor, Han way's reforms among, 229. Patience, 74, 823. Patpn, Noel, painter, 166. Paxton, Sir Joseph, 108. Peel family, 58. Peel, Sir Robert, manufacturer, 56. Peel, Sir Robert, statesman, his indus¬ try, 84 ; his memory, how culti- yated, 73 ; his truthfulness, 401. Peerage, industry and the, 180. Pendulum, discovery of the, 98. Penny, power of the, 280. Perseverance, 67, 76, 108, 318. Pestalozzi, on education, 327. Petty, Sir Wm., founder of Lans- downe peerage, 191. Philanthropy, the highest, 17. Phipps, Sir W., founder of tin T^or- manby peerage, 185. Physical culture, 309. Plastow, Abraham, 373. Playfair, Professor, 30. Pleasure, pursuit of, 343. Politeness, 406. Politics, laborious workers in, 34. Pollock, Lord Chief Baron, 80. Pope, poet, 31, 877. Popular roads to knowledge, 322. Porter, David, a worthy sweep, 801. Pottery manufacture, its founding by Wedgwood, 59. Pounds, JoJin, and ragged schools, 377. Poussin, Nicholas, painter, 97. Poverty may be a blessing, 32. Power of money over-estimated, 305. Power, exei'ciso of a test of the gen¬ tleman, 420. Practical education of Engh'^hmen, . 20. Precept and example, 371 Precocity, 365. Prejudices, 406. Preston, Arkwright at, 46. Priestley, Dr., 105. Principles become habits, 404 Promptitude, 210, 262, 821. Prosperity, dangers oi^, 851. Proverbs on thrift, 296. Providence and improvidence, 280. Pugin, architect, 131. Punctuality, 263. Purnose, 203 ; in study, 320, 331. Raqgrd schools,,the founders of, 377. SHERIDAN. Rawlinson, Sir H., and cuneîfo Ji al phabet, 39, 80. Red-Tapeism, 266. Reform of habits, the greatest reform» 281. Rendu, on English education, 22. Respectability, 306. Responsibility, human, 377. Reynolds, Sir J., origin, 80 ; on foroa of industry, 135, 318 ; his boyhood, 139 ; his painstaking» 355 ; influenc« of his Discourses, 386. Ricardo, David, stockjobber, 254. Riches, 32, 304, 415. Richter, J., on self-culture, 331; oa poverty, 350. Ridicule, 94. Rittenhouse, astronomer, 104 Roberts, painter, 136. Romilly, Sir S., lawyer, 35, 359, 385. Romney, painter, 24,136. Rosse, Lord, 33. Rossini, Beethoven's saying of, 349. Routine, 266. Royal Society, foundation of, 191. Ruskin, on mechanism, 388. Russell, Lord John, 84 ; on character, 397. St. Leonards, Lord, 195, 320. St. Vincent, Earl, 210, 289. Saving of money, 280, 302. Scanderbeg, his bravery, 383. Scarlatti, on Handel, 382. Scheele, chemist, 105. Schiller, on life education, 20. Schimmel Penninck, Mrs., on mater¬ nal example, 373. School, a training-ground for life, 312. Scientific apparatus, humble, 103. Scott, Lord Eldon, 112, 197. Scott, Sir Walter, origin, 30; his in¬ dustry, 81; cultivation of opportu¬ nities, 104; man of business, 254; on promptitude, 262; his physical health, 816; a dunce in his 1 oy« hood, 367. Scott monument, architect of, 162 Self-culture, 809, 325. Self-denial and control, 281, 331. Self-help, 15,18,280. Self-raised men, 23. Self-reform, 28l. Self-respect, 332. Serampore mission, 76. Shakspeare, author, 24, 253. Sharp, Granville, slavery abolitionist 234, 388,402. Sharpies, James, self-taught artist 166. Shepherds, Scotch, 360. Sheridan, a dunce in boyhood, 367 INDEX. m sboümaeebs. öttoftwiakers, illustrious, 25. Shovel, Sir Cloudesley, sailor, 25, SO. Simpson, mathematician, 25. Sinclair, Sir John, his energetic ca¬ reer, 389, Slavery, lahorers in abolition of, 236. Smeaton, engineer, 30, 43. Smith, Adam, political economist, 75. Smith, Dr. Pye, divine, 112. Smith, Sydney, divine, 35, 74. Smith, Wm., geologist, 123. Smuggling adventure of Samuel Drew, 87 Somers, Lord, judge, 30. Southey, author, 31, 335, 347. Spagnoletto, painter, 136. Spelman, Sir H., antiquary, 364. Spenser, poet, as man of business, 253. Spinola, Marquis de, general, 257. Spread of knowledge, 319. Staflfordshire potteries, founder of, 59. Stanfield, painter, 136. Stanley, Lord, on character, 396. Statistical Account of Scotland, 393. Steam, power of, 101. Steam-engine, invention of, 26,42,102. Stephen of Colonna, saying of, 399. Stephenson, Geo., 26, 45, 79, 89, 338. Stephenson, Robert, on mechanical invention, 45. Sterling, John, on self-denial, 280; on comic literature, 341 ; his character, 382. Stone, Edmund, mathematc'an, 104, 318. Stothard, painter, 108,145. Strong, case of the slave, 235. Strutts, of Belper, 49, 193. Studies, Bacon on, 20. Study, 320. Sturgeon, electrician, 25. Success, the path of, 67, 2öo, oía Sugden, Lord St. Leonard«, 195. Superficial knowledge, 319. Suwarrow, on power of will, 208. Sweep, an illustrious, 301. Swift, Dean, a dunce in his youth, 366. Tact, in businessj 52, 265. Taglioni, 74. Tailors, illustrious, 25. Talbot, chemist, 33 TaLfourd, Judge, 30. Tannahill, poet, 25. Taxation, self-imposed, 281. Taylor, Jeremy, on idleness, 311. Tegg, publisher, causes of his success, 265. Telford, engineer, 24. Tempters, young men's, 293. Tennyson, poet laureate, 30, 396. ïeuterden, Lord Chief Justice, 23,195 WIESE. Teutonic ênergy, 181, 202. Thames tunnel, Brunei's Oi constructing, 99. Thierry, Augustin, author, 345. Thomson, poet, 30. Thorburn, painter, 165. Thoroughness, 319. Thrift, necessity for, 280, 296. Thurlow, Lord, 30. Time, economy of, 110, 262, 318. Titian, painter, his industry. 137» Trade, honesty in, 274. Treasure-hunting in South Seaa, bf Phipps, 186. Trench, on character of Sterling, 883. Trevithick, inventor, 45. Triñes, make perfection, 97; influence character, 372. Truth makes the gentleman, 401, 417 Turner, painter, 24,136,159. • \ Umbrellas, hitroduction of, 233. Uprightness of character, 402. Vaccination, discovery of, by Jenner 115. Vails-giving. practice of, 232. Violin-playing, difficulty of, 73, 354. Voltaire, sayings of, 20, 69. Walker, Adam, 25. Walker, the " Original," 205. Ward, missionary, 76. Washington, General, on punctuality, 264; on business details, 289; his •'"■"?ess through defeat, 349. Wasters, 286. Watt, James, inventor, his origin, 26; industry, 43, 79 ; defective busi- ggess qualities, 51 ; ingenuity of adaptation, 99, 104; improvement ot opportunity, 102, 109 ; a late learner, 365 ; a dull scholar, 306. Wealth and art, 136. Wealth makes life too easy, 32, 305. Wealthy classes, workers among the 33. Weavers, illustrious, 25. Wedgwood, Josiah, manufacturer, 59, 146. , Wellesley, Marquis of, his honesty, 414. Wellington, D¿.'ke of, his devotion to duty, 209 ; a first-rate man of busi« ness, 266 ; his opinions on debt, 289, his encounter of difficulties, 350; a dull boy, 367 ; his honesty, 414; on truthfulness, 401, 417. West, Benjamin, painter, 103, 135 138, 373. White, Kirke, poet, 26, 110. Wiese, on English characteï 430 mDEX. VmKIB. Wilkîe, David, painter, origin, 30 ; his opportunities, 103; his persistent ùndustry, lc6. \r;.U, of, 204 ; freedom of, 206. WLdams, missionary, 220. Wilson, ornithologist, 25. Wilson, painter, 30, 96, 136,138. Wilson, Professor, 30, 317. Wisdom, practical, 279, 320, 329. Wolfif, Dr., missionary, 386. Wollaston, Dr., origin, 30; his appa¬ ratus, 103. Woisey, Cardinal, 26. Wool society, British, 391. Worcester, Marquis of, 33,-102. îi&rdsworth, poet. 30, 254. ZUCARELU. Working, courageous, 204. Working quality, training of, 73. Working classes, true independeaô} of, 282, 284. Wreck of the Birkenhead^ 419. Wren, Sir Christopher, architect, 30. Wright, Thomas, and reclamation Of criminals, 298. Wright, painter, 136. Writing down facts, practice of, 112. Yates (of Peel & Co.), 56. Young, Dr., philosopher, 30, 76, ZiSKA, John, general, 383» Zucarelli^ painteV; 1» THE This book is a preservation facsimile produced for the Northwestern University Library. It is made in compliance with copyright law and produced on acid-free archival 60# book weight paper which meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (permanence of paper) Preservation facsimile printing and binding by Acme Bookbinding Charlestown, Massachusetts 2011