Samuel Smiles, Self-help

SELF HELP; WITH ILLUSTRATIONS OF CONDUCT AND PERSEVERANCE CHAPTER I --SELF-HELP--NATIONAL AND INDIVIDUAL "The worth of a State, in the long run, is the worth of the individuals composing it."--J. S. Mill. "We put too much faith in systems, and look too little to men."--B. Disr "Heaven helps those who help themselves" is a well-tried maxim, embodying in a small compass the results of vast human experience. T spirit of self-help is the root of all genuine growth in the individual; an exhibited in the lives of many, it constitutes the true source of nationa vigour and strength. Help from without is often enfeebling in its effect help from within invariably invigorates. Whatever is done FOR men or classes, to a certain extent takes away the stimulus and necessity of d for themselves; and where men are subjected to over-guidance and ov government, the inevitable tendency is to render them comparatively CHAPTER I 3 helpless. Even the best institutions can give a man no active help. Perhaps the m they can do is, to leave him free to develop himself and improve his individual condition. But in all times men have been prone to believe t their happiness and well-being were to be secured by means of institu rather than by their own conduct. Hence the value of legislation as an in human advancement has usually been much over-estimated. To constitute the millionth part of a Legislature, by voting for one or two once in three or five years, however conscientiously this duty may be performed, can exercise but little active influence upon any man's life character. Moreover, it is every day becoming more clearly understood the function of Government is negative and restrictive, rather than po and active; being resolvable principally into protection--protection of l liberty, and property. Laws, wisely administered, will secure men in th enjoyment of the fruits of their labour, whether of mind or body, at a comparatively small personal sacrifice; but no laws, however stringen make the idle industrious, the thriftless provident, or the drunken sob Such reforms can only be effected by means of individual action, econ and self-denial; by better habits, rather than by greater rights. The Government of a nation itself is usually found to be but the reflex the individuals composing it. The Government that is ahead of the peo will inevitably be dragged down to their level, as the Government that behind them will in the long run be dragged up. In the order of nature collective character of a nation will as surely find its befitting results i law and government, as water finds its own level. The noble people wi nobly ruled, and the ignorant and corrupt ignobly. Indeed all experien serves to prove that the worth and strength of a State depend far less the form of its institutions than upon the character of its men. For the is only an aggregate of individual conditions, and civilization itself is b question of the personal improvement of the men, women, and childre whom society is composed. National progress is the sum of individual industry, energy, and uprightness, as national decay is of individual idleness, selfishness, an CHAPTER I 4 vice. What we are accustomed to decry as great social evils, will, for t most part, be found to be but the outgrowth of man's own perverted li and though we may endeavour to cut them down and extirpate them b means of Law, they will only spring up again with fresh luxuriance in s other form, unless the conditions of personal life and character are ra improved. If this view be correct, then it follows that the highest patri and philanthropy consist, not so much in altering laws and modifying institutions, as in helping and stimulating men to elevate and improve themselves by their own free and independent individual action. It may be of comparatively little consequence how a man is governed without, whilst everything depends upon how he governs himself from within. The greatest slave is not he who is ruled by a despot, great tho that evil be, but he who is the thrall of his own moral ignorance, selfishness, and vice. Nations who are thus enslaved at heart cannot b freed by any mere changes of masters or of institutions; and so long a fatal delusion prevails, that liberty solely depends upon and consists in government, so long will such changes, no matter at what cost they m effected, have as little practical and lasting result as the shifting of th figures in a phantasmagoria. The solid foundations of liberty must res individual character; which is also the only sure guarantee for social security and national progress. John Stuart Mill truly observes that "e despotism does not produce its worst effects so long as individuality e under it; and whatever crushes individuality IS despotism, by whateve name it be called." Old fallacies as to human progress are constantly turning up. Some ca Caesars, others for Nationalities, and others for Acts of Parliament. W to wait for Caesars, and when they are found, "happy the people who recognise and follow them." {1} This doctrine shortly means, everythi FOR the people, nothing BY them,--a doctrine which, if taken as a guid must, by destroying the free conscience of a community, speedily prep the way for any form of despotism. Caesarism is human idolatry in its worst form--a worship of mere power, as degrading in its effects as the worship of mere wealth would be. A far healthier doctrine to inculcate among the nations would be that of Self-Help; and so soon as it is CHAPTER I 5 thoroughly understood and carried into action, Caesarism will be no mor The two principles are directly antagonistic; and what Victor Hugo said o the Pen and the Sword alike applies to them, "Ceci tuera cela." [This will kill that.] The power of Nationalities and Acts of Parliament is also a prevalent superstition. What William Dargan, one of Ireland's truest patriots, sa the closing of the first Dublin Industrial Exhibition, may well be quote now. "To tell the truth," he said, "I never heard the word independence mentioned that my own country and my own fellow townsmen did not occur to my mind. I have heard a great deal about the independence t were to get from this, that, and the other place, and of the great expec we were to have from persons from other countries coming amongst u Whilst I value as much as any man the great advantages that must res us from that intercourse, I have always been deeply impressed with th feeling that our industrial independence is dependent upon ourselves. believe that with simple industry and careful exactness in the utilizati our energies, we never had a fairer chance nor a brighter prospect th present. We have made a step, but perseverance is the great agent of success; and if we but go on zealously, I believe in my conscience that short period we shall arrive at a position of equal comfort, of equal happiness, and of equal independence, with that of any other people." All nations have been made what they are by the thinking and the wor of many generations of men. Patient and persevering labourers in all r and conditions of life, cultivators of the soil and explorers of the mine, inventors and discoverers, manufacturers, mechanics and artisans, po philosophers, and politicians, all have contributed towards the grand r one generation building upon another's labours, and carrying them fo to still higher stages. This constant succession of noble workers--the artisans of civilisation--has served to create order out of chaos in indu science, and art; and the living race has thus, in the course of nature, become the inheritor of the rich estate provided by the skill and indus our forefathers, which is placed in our hands to cultivate, and to hand down, not only unimpaired but improved, to our successors. CHAPTER I 6 The spirit of self-help, as exhibited in the energetic action of individua has in all times been a marked feature in the English character, and furnishes the true measure of our power as a nation. Rising above the of the mass, there were always to be found a series of individuals distinguished beyond others, who commanded the public homage. But progress has also been owing to multitudes of smaller and less known Though only the generals' names may be remembered in the history o great campaign, it has been in a great measure through the individua and heroism of the privates that victories have been won. And life, too soldiers' battle,"--men in the ranks having in all times been amongst th greatest of workers. Many are the lives of men unwritten, which have nevertheless as powerfully influenced civilisation and progress as the fortunate Great whose names are recorded in biography. Even the hum person, who sets before his fellows an example of industry, sobriety, a upright honesty of purpose in life, has a present as well as a future influence upon the well-being of his country; for his life and character unconsciously into the lives of others, and propagate good example fo time to come. Daily experience shows that it is energetic individualism which produc the most powerful effects upon the life and action of others, and really constitutes the best practical education. Schools, academies, and colle give but the merest beginnings of culture in comparison with it. Far m influential is the life- education daily given in our homes, in the street behind counters, in workshops, at the loom and the plough, in countin houses and manufactories, and in the busy haunts of men. This is that finishing instruction as members of society, which Schiller designated education of the human race," consisting in action, conduct, self-cultu self-control,--all that tends to discipline a man truly, and fit him for the proper performance of the duties and business of life,--a kind of educa not to be learnt from books, or acquired by any amount of mere literar training. With his usual weight of words Bacon observes, that "Studies teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation;" a remark that holds true of actual life, as w as of the cultivation of the intellect itself. For all experience serves to illustrate and enforce the lesson, that a man perfects himself by work CHAPTER I 7 than by reading,--that it is life rather than literature, action rather than study, and character rather than biography, which tend perpetually to renovate mankind. Biographies of great, but especially of good men, are nevertheless mo instructive and useful, as helps, guides, and incentives to others. Som the best are almost equivalent to gospels-- teaching high living, high thinking, and energetic action for their own and the world's good. The valuable examples which they furnish of the power of self-help, of pati purpose, resolute working, and steadfast integrity, issuing in the form of truly noble and manly character, exhibit in language not to be misunderstood, what it is in the power of each to accomplish for hims and eloquently illustrate the efficacy of self-respect and self- reliance enabling men of even the humblest rank to work out for themselves an honourable competency and a solid reputation. Great men of science, literature, and art--apostles of great thoughts an lords of the great heart--have belonged to no exclusive class nor rank life. They have come alike from colleges, workshops, and farmhouses,--from the huts of poor men and the mansions of the rich. of God's greatest apostles have come from "the ranks." The poorest ha sometimes taken the highest places; nor have difficulties apparently th most insuperable proved obstacles in their way. Those very difficulties many instances, would ever seem to have been their best helpers, by evoking their powers of labour and endurance, and stimulating into lif faculties which might otherwise have lain dormant. The instances of obstacles thus surmounted, and of triumphs thus achieved, are indeed numerous, as almost to justify the proverb that "with Will one can do anything." Take, for instance, the remarkable fact, that from the barbe shop came Jeremy Taylor, the most poetical of divines; Sir Richard Arkwright, the inventor of the spinning-jenny and founder of the cotto manufacture; Lord Tenterden, one of the most distinguished of Lord C Justices; and Turner, the greatest among landscape painters. No one knows to a certainty what Shakespeare was; but it is unquesti that he sprang from a humble rank. His father was a butcher and graz CHAPTER I 8 and Shakespeare himself is supposed to have been in early life a woolcomber; whilst others aver that he was an usher in a school and afterwards a scrivener's clerk. He truly seems to have been "not one, mankind's epitome." For such is the accuracy of his sea phrases that a writer alleges that he must have been a sailor; whilst a clergyman infe from internal evidence in his writings, that he was probably a parson's clerk; and a distinguished judge of horse-flesh insists that he must hav been a horse-dealer. Shakespeare was certainly an actor, and in the co of his life "played many parts," gathering his wonderful stores of knowledge from a wide field of experience and observation. In any eve he must have been a close student and a hard worker; and to this day writings continue to exercise a powerful influence on the formation of English character. The common class of day labourers has given us Brindley the enginee Cook the navigator, and Burns the poet. Masons and bricklayers can b of Ben Jonson, who worked at the building of Lincoln's Inn, with a trow in his hand and a book in his pocket, Edwards and Telford the enginee Hugh Miller the geologist, and Allan Cunningham the writer and sculp whilst among distinguished carpenters we find the names of Inigo Jon architect, Harrison the chronometer-maker, John Hunter the physiolog Romney and Opie the painters, Professor Lee the Orientalist, and John Gibson the sculptor. From the weaver class have sprung Simson the mathematician, Bacon sculptor, the two Milners, Adam Walker, John Foster, Wilson the ornithologist, Dr. Livingstone the missionary traveller, and Tannahill th poet. Shoemakers have given us Sir Cloudesley Shovel the great Admi Sturgeon the electrician, Samuel Drew the essayist, Gifford the editor 'Quarterly Review,' Bloomfield the poet, and William Carey the missionary; whilst Morrison, another laborious missionary, was a mak shoe-lasts. Within the last few years, a profound naturalist has been discovered in the person of a shoemaker at Banff, named Thomas Edw who, while maintaining himself by his trade, has devoted his leisure to study of natural science in all its branches, his researches in connexio the smaller crustaceae having been rewarded by the discovery of a ne CHAPTER I 9 species, to which the name of "Praniza Edwardsii" has been given by naturalists. Nor have tailors been undistinguished. John Stow, the historian, worke the trade during some part of his life. Jackson, the painter, made cloth until he reached manhood. The brave Sir John Hawkswood, who so gr distinguished himself at Poictiers, and was knighted by Edward III. for valour, was in early life apprenticed to a London tailor. Admiral Hobso who broke the boom at Vigo in 1702, belonged to the same calling. He working as a tailor's apprentice near Bonchurch, in the Isle of Wight, the news flew through the village that a squadron of men-of-war was sailing off the island. He sprang from the shopboard, and ran down wi comrades to the beach, to gaze upon the glorious sight. The boy was suddenly inflamed with the ambition to be a sailor; and springing into boat, he rowed off to the squadron, gained the admiral's ship, and was accepted as a volunteer. Years after, he returned to his native village f honours, and dined off bacon and eggs in the cottage where he had w as an apprentice. But the greatest tailor of all is unquestionably Andre Johnson, the present President of the United States--a man of extraord force of character and vigour of intellect. In his great speech at Washi when describing himself as having begun his political career as an alderman, and run through all the branches of the legislature, a voice crowd cried, "From a tailor up." It was characteristic of Johnson to tak intended sarcasm in good part, and even to turn it to account. "Some gentleman says I have been a tailor. That does not disconcert me in th least; for when I was a tailor I had the reputation of being a good one, making close fits; I was always punctual with my customers, and alwa did good work." Cardinal Wolsey, De Foe, Akenside, and Kirke White were the sons of butchers; Bunyan was a tinker, and Joseph Lancaster a basket-maker. Among the great names identified with the invention of the steam- eng are those of Newcomen, Watt, and Stephenson; the first a blacksmith, second a maker of mathematical instruments, and the third an engine-fireman. Huntingdon the preacher was originally a coalheaver, Bewick, the father of wood-engraving, a coalminer. Dodsley was a CHAPTER I 10 footman, and Holcroft a groom. Baffin the navigator began his seafari career as a man before the mast, and Sir Cloudesley Shovel as a cabin Herschel played the oboe in a military band. Chantrey was a journeym carver, Etty a journeyman printer, and Sir Thomas Lawrence the son o tavern-keeper. Michael Faraday, the son of a blacksmith, was in early apprenticed to a bookbinder, and worked at that trade until he reache twenty-second year: he now occupies the very first rank as a philosoph excelling even his master, Sir Humphry Davy, in the art of lucidly expounding the most difficult and abstruse points in natural science. Among those who have given the greatest impulse to the sublime scie astronomy, we find Copernicus, the son of a Polish baker; Kepler, the s of a German public-house keeper, and himself the "garcon de cabaret; d'Alembert, a foundling picked up one winter's night on the steps of th church of St. Jean le Rond at Paris, and brought up by the wife of a gla and Newton and Laplace, the one the son of a small freeholder near Grantham, the other the son of a poor peasant of Beaumont-en-Auge, Honfleur. Notwithstanding their comparatively adverse circumstances early life, these distinguished men achieved a solid and enduring repu by the exercise of their genius, which all the wealth in the world could have purchased. The very possession of wealth might indeed have pro an obstacle greater even than the humble means to which they were b The father of Lagrange, the astronomer and mathematician, held the o of Treasurer of War at Turin; but having ruined himself by speculation family were reduced to comparative poverty. To this circumstance Lagrange was in after life accustomed partly to attribute his own fame happiness. "Had I been rich," said he, "I should probably not have bec a mathematician." The sons of clergymen and ministers of religion generally, have partic distinguished themselves in our country's history. Amongst them we fi the names of Drake and Nelson, celebrated in naval heroism; of Wolla Young, Playfair, and Bell, in science; of Wren, Reynolds, Wilson, and Wilkie, in art; of Thurlow and Campbell, in law; and of Addison, Thom Goldsmith, Coleridge, and Tennyson, in literature. Lord Hardinge, Col Edwardes, and Major Hodson, so honourably known in Indian warfare CHAPTER I 11 were also the sons of clergymen. Indeed, the empire of England in Ind 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 business. Among the sons of attorneys we find Edmund Burke, Smeaton the engineer, Scott and Wordsworth, and Lords Somers, Hardwick, and Dunning. Sir William Blackstone was the posthumous son of a silkmercer. Lord Gifford's father was a grocer at Dover; Lord Denman's a physician; judge Talfourd's a country brewer; and Lord Chief Baron Pollock's a celebrated saddler at Charing Cross. Layard, the discovere the monuments of Nineveh, was an articled clerk in a London solicitor office; and Sir William Armstrong, the inventor of hydraulic machinery of the Armstrong ordnance, was also trained to the law and practised some time as an attorney. Milton was the son of a London scrivener, a Pope and Southey were the sons of linendrapers. Professor Wilson wa son of a Paisley manufacturer, and Lord Macaulay of an African merch Keats was a druggist, and Sir Humphry Davy a country apothecary's apprentice. Speaking of himself, Davy once said, "What I am I have ma myself: I say this without vanity, and in pure simplicity of heart." Richa Owen, the Newton of Natural History, began life as a midshipman, and not enter upon the line of scientific research in which he has since bec so distinguished, until comparatively late in life. He laid the foundatio his great knowledge while occupied in cataloguing the magnificent museum accumulated by the industry of John Hunter, a work which occupied him at the College of Surgeons during a period of about ten Foreign not less than English biography abounds in illustrations of me who have glorified the lot of poverty by their labours and their genius Art we find Claude, the son of a pastrycook; Geefs, of a baker; Leopold Robert, of a watchmaker; and Haydn, of a wheelwright; whilst Daguer was a scene-painter at the Opera. The father of Gregory VII. was a carpenter; of Sextus V., a shepherd; and of Adrian VI., a poor bargema When a boy, Adrian, unable to pay for a light by which to study, was accustomed to prepare his lessons by the light of the lamps in the stre and the church porches, exhibiting a degree of patience and industry CHAPTER I 12 were the certain forerunners of his future distinction. Of like humble o were Hauy, the mineralogist, who was the son of a weaver of Saint-Jus Hautefeuille, the mechanician, of a baker at Orleans; Joseph Fourier, t mathematician, of a tailor at Auxerre; Durand, the architect, of a Paris shoemaker; and Gesner, the naturalist, of a skinner or worker in hides Zurich. This last began his career under all the disadvantages attenda poverty, sickness, and domestic calamity; none of which, however, wer sufficient to damp his courage or hinder his progress. His life was ind an eminent illustration of the truth of the saying, that those who have to do and are willing to work, will find the most time. Pierre Ramus w another man of like character. He was the son of poor parents in Picar and when a boy was employed to tend sheep. But not liking the occup he ran away to Paris. After encountering much misery, he succeeded i entering the College of Navarre as a servant. The situation, however, opened for him the road to learning, and he shortly became one of the distinguished men of his time. The chemist Vauquelin was the son of a peasant of Saint-Andred'Herbetot, in the Calvados. When a boy at school, though poorly clad was full of bright intelligence; and the master, who taught him to read write, when praising him for his diligence, used to say, "Go on, my boy work, study, Colin, and one day you will go as well dressed as the pari churchwarden!" A country apothecary who visited the school, admired robust boy's arms, and offered to take him into his laboratory to pound drugs, to which Vauquelin assented, in the hope of being able to conti his lessons. But the apothecary would not permit him to spend any pa his time in learning; and on ascertaining this, the youth immediately determined to quit his service. He therefore left Saint-Andre and took road for Paris with his havresac on his back. Arrived there, he searche a place as apothecary's boy, but could not find one. Worn out by fatigu and destitution, Vauquelin fell ill, and in that state was taken to the hospital, where he thought he should die. But better things were in st the poor boy. He recovered, and again proceeded in his search of employment, which he at length found with an apothecary. Shortly aft became known to Fourcroy the eminent chemist, who was so pleased the youth that he made him his private secretary; and many years afte CHAPTER I 13 the death of that great philosopher, Vauquelin succeeded him as Profe of Chemistry. Finally, in 1829, the electors of the district of Calvados appointed him their representative in the Chamber of Deputies, and h re-entered in triumph the village which he had left so many years befo poor and so obscure. England has no parallel instances to show, of promotions from the ran the army to the highest military offices; which have been so common i France since the first Revolution. "La carriere ouverte aux talents" ha received many striking illustrations, which would doubtless be matche among ourselves were the road to promotion as open. Hoche, Humber Pichegru, began their respective careers as private soldiers. Hoche, w the King's army, was accustomed to embroider waistcoats to enable h earn money wherewith to purchase books on military science. Humbe a scapegrace when a youth; at sixteen he ran away from home, and w turns servant to a tradesman at Nancy, a workman at Lyons, and a haw of rabbit skins. In 1792, he enlisted as a volunteer; and in a year he w general of brigade. Kleber, Lefevre, Suchet, Victor, Lannes, Soult, Massena, St. Cyr, D'Erlon, Murat, Augereau, Bessieres, and Ney, all ro from the ranks. In some cases promotion was rapid, in others it was sl Saint Cyr, the son of a tanner of Toul, began life as an actor, after whic enlisted in the Chasseurs, and was promoted to a captaincy within a y Victor, Duc de Belluno, enlisted in the Artillery in 1781: during the eve preceding the Revolution he was discharged; but immediately on the outbreak of war he re- enlisted, and in the course of a few months his intrepidity and ability secured his promotion as Adjutant-Major and ch of battalion. Murat, "le beau sabreur," was the son of a village innkeep Perigord, where he looked after the horses. He first enlisted in a regim Chasseurs, from which he was dismissed for insubordination: but agai enlisting, he shortly rose to the rank of Colonel. Ney enlisted at eighte a hussar regiment, and gradually advanced step by step: Kleber soon discovered his merits, surnaming him "The Indefatigable," and promo him to be Adjutant-General when only twenty-five. On the other hand, Soult {2} was six years from the date of his enlistment before he reac the rank of sergeant. But Soult's advancement was rapid compared w of Massena, who served for fourteen years before he was made sergea CHAPTER I 14 and though he afterwards rose successively, step by step, to the grade Colonel, General of Division, and Marshal, he declared that the post o sergeant was the step which of all others had cost him the most labou win. Similar promotions from the ranks, in the French army, have continued down to our own day. Changarnier entered the King's bodyg as a private in 1815. Marshal Bugeaud served four years in the ranks, which he was made an officer. Marshal Randon, the present French Minister of War, began his military career as a drummer boy; and in th portrait of him in the gallery at Versailles, his hand rests upon a drum the picture being thus painted at his own request. Instances such as t inspire French soldiers with enthusiasm for their service, as each priv feels that he may possibly carry the baton of a marshal in his knapsac The instances of men, in this and other countries, who, by dint of persevering application and energy, have raised themselves from the humblest ranks of industry to eminent positions of usefulness and infl in society, are indeed so numerous that they have long ceased to be regarded as exceptional. Looking at some of the more remarkable, it m almost be said that early encounter with difficulty and adverse circumstances was the necessary and indispensable condition of succe The British House of Commons has always contained a considerable number of such self-raised men- -fitting representatives of the industr character of the people; and it is to the credit of our Legislature that t have been welcomed and honoured there. When the late Joseph Broth member for Salford, in the course of the discussion on the Ten Hours detailed with true pathos the hardships and fatigues to which he had b subjected when working as a factory boy in a cotton mill, and describe resolution which he had then formed, that if ever it was in his power h would endeavour to ameliorate the condition of that class, Sir James Graham rose immediately after him, and declared, amidst the cheers o House, that he did not before know that Mr. Brotherton's origin had b humble, but that it rendered him more proud than he had ever before of the House of Commons, to think that a person risen from that cond should be able to sit side by side, on equal terms, with the hereditary of the land. CHAPTER I 15 The late Mr. Fox, member for Oldham, was accustomed to introduce h recollections of past times with the words, "when I was working as a weaver boy at Norwich;" and there are other members of parliament, living, whose origin has been equally humble. Mr. Lindsay, the well-kn ship owner, until recently member for Sunderland, once told the simp story of his life to the electors of Weymouth, in answer to an attack ma upon him by his political opponents. He had been left an orphan at fourteen, and when he left Glasgow for Liverpool to push his way in th world, not being able to pay the usual fare, the captain of the steamer agreed to take his labour in exchange, and the boy worked his passag trimming the coals in the coal hole. At Liverpool he remained for seve weeks before he could obtain employment, during which time he lived sheds and fared hardly; until at last he found shelter on board a West Indiaman. He entered as a boy, and before he was nineteen, by steady conduct he had risen to the command of a ship. At twenty-three he ret from the sea, and settled on shore, after which his progress was rapid had prospered," he said, "by steady industry, by constant work, and by keeping in view the great principle of doing to others as you would be by." The career of Mr. William Jackson, of Birkenhead, the present membe North Derbyshire, bears considerable resemblance to that of Mr. Lind His father, a surgeon at Lancaster, died, leaving a family of eleven chi of whom William Jackson was the seventh son. The elder boys had bee well educated while the father lived, but at his death the younger mem had to shift for themselves. William, when under twelve years old, was taken from school, and put to hard work at a ship's side from six in the morning till nine at night. His master falling ill, the boy was taken into counting-house, where he had more leisure. This gave him an opportu of reading, and having obtained access to a set of the 'Encyclopaedia Britannica,' he read the volumes through from A to Z, partly by day, bu chiefly at night. He afterwards put himself to a trade, was diligent, an succeeded in it. Now he has ships sailing on almost every sea, and hol commercial relations with nearly every country on the globe. CHAPTER I 16 Among like men of the same class may be ranked the late Richard Cob whose start in life was equally humble. The son of a small farmer at Midhurst in Sussex, he was sent at an early age to London and employ a boy in a warehouse in the City. He was diligent, well conducted, and eager for information. His master, a man of the old school, warned him against too much reading; but the boy went on in his own course, stor his mind with the wealth found in books. He was promoted from one position of trust to another-- became a traveller for his house--secured large connection, and eventually started in business as a calico printe Manchester. Taking an interest in public questions, more especially in popular education, his attention was gradually drawn to the subject of Corn Laws, to the repeal of which he may be said to have devoted his fortune and his life. It may be mentioned as a curious fact that the firs speech he delivered in public was a total failure. But he had great perseverance, application, and energy; and with persistency and prac became at length one of the most persuasive and effective of public speakers, extorting the disinterested eulogy of even Sir Robert Peel hi M. Drouyn de Lhuys, the French Ambassador, has eloquently said of M Cobden, that he was "a living proof of what merit, perseverance, and l can accomplish; one of the most complete examples of those men who sprung from the humblest ranks of society, raise themselves to the hig rank in public estimation by the effect of their own worth and of their personal services; finally, one of the rarest examples of the solid quali inherent in the English character." In all these cases, strenuous individual application was the price paid distinction; excellence of any sort being invariably placed beyond the of indolence. It is the diligent hand and head alone that maketh rich--i self-culture, growth in wisdom, and in business. Even when men are b to wealth and high social position, any solid reputation which they ma individually achieve can only be attained by energetic application; for though an inheritance of acres may be bequeathed, an inheritance of knowledge and wisdom cannot. The wealthy man may pay others for d his work for him, but it is impossible to get his thinking done for him b another, or to purchase any kind of self-culture. Indeed, the doctrine t excellence in any pursuit is only to be achieved by laborious applicatio CHAPTER I 17 holds as true in the case of the man of wealth as in that of Drew and Gifford, whose only school was a cobbler's stall, or Hugh Miller, whose only college was a Cromarty stone quarry. Riches and ease, it is perfectly clear, are not necessary for man's high culture, else had not the world been so largely indebted in all times to who have sprung from the humbler ranks. An easy and luxurious exist does not train men to effort or encounter with difficulty; nor does it aw that consciousness of power which is so necessary for energetic and effective action in life. Indeed, so far from poverty being a misfortune, may, by vigorous self-help, be converted even into a blessing; rousing man to that struggle with the world in which, though some may purch ease by degradation, the right-minded and true-hearted find strength, confidence, and triumph. Bacon says, "Men seem neither to understan their riches nor their strength: of the former they believe greater thin they should; of the latter much less. Self-reliance and self-denial will t a man to drink out of his own cistern, and eat his own sweet bread, an learn and labour truly to get his living, and carefully to expend the go things committed to his trust." Riches are so great a temptation to ease and self-indulgence, to which are by nature prone, that the glory is all the greater of those who, bor ample fortunes, nevertheless take an active part in the work of their generation--who "scorn delights and live laborious days." It is to the h of the wealthier ranks in this country that they are not idlers; for they their fair share of the work of the state, and usually take more than th share of its dangers. It was a fine thing said of a subaltern officer in th Peninsular campaigns, observed trudging alone through mud and mire the side of his regiment, "There goes 15,000l. a year!" and in our own the bleak slopes of Sebastopol and the burning soil of India have born witness to the like noble self-denial and devotion on the part of our ge classes; many a gallant and noble fellow, of rank and estate, having ris his life, or lost it, in one or other of those fields of action, in the servic his country. CHAPTER I 18 Nor have the wealthier classes been undistinguished in the more peac pursuits of philosophy and science. Take, for instance, the great name Bacon, the father of modern philosophy, and of Worcester, Boyle, Cavendish, Talbot, and Rosse, in science. The last named may be rega as the great mechanic of the peerage; a man who, if he had not been b peer, would probably have taken the highest rank as an inventor. So thorough is his knowledge of smith-work that he is said to have been pressed on one occasion to accept the foremanship of a large worksho a manufacturer to whom his rank was unknown. The great Rosse teles of his own fabrication, is certainly the most extraordinary instrument kind that has yet been constructed. But it is principally in the departments of politics and literature that w the most energetic labourers amongst our higher classes. Success in t lines of action, as in all others, can only be achieved through industry, practice, and study; and the great Minister, or parliamentary leader, m necessarily be amongst the very hardest of workers. Such was Palmer and such are Derby and Russell, Disraeli and Gladstone. These men ha had the benefit of no Ten Hours Bill, but have often, during the busy s of Parliament, worked "double shift," almost day and night. One of the most illustrious of such workers in modern times was unquestionably late Sir Robert Peel. He possessed in an extraordinary degree the pow continuous intellectual labour, nor did he spare himself. His career, in presented a remarkable example of how much a man of comparatively moderate powers can accomplish by means of assiduous application a indefatigable industry. During the forty years that he held a seat in Parliament, his labours were prodigious. He was a most conscientious and whatever he undertook to do, he did thoroughly. All his speeches evidence of his careful study of everything that had been spoken or w on the subject under consideration. He was elaborate almost to excess spared no pains to adapt himself to the various capacities of his audie Withal, he possessed much practical sagacity, great strength of purpo and power to direct the issues of action with steady hand and eye. In o respect he surpassed most men: his principles broadened and enlarge time; and age, instead of contracting, only served to mellow and ripen nature. To the last he continued open to the reception of new views, a CHAPTER I 19 though many thought him cautious to excess, he did not allow himself to fall into that indiscriminating admiration of the past, which is the palsy o many minds similarly educated, and renders the old age of many nothing but a pity. The indefatigable industry of Lord Brougham has become almost proverbial. His public labours have extended over a period of upwards sixty years, during which he has ranged over many fields--of law, litera politics, and science,--and achieved distinction in them all. How he contrived it, has been to many a mystery. Once, when Sir Samuel Rom was requested to undertake some new work, he excused himself by sa that he had no time; "but," he added, "go with it to that fellow Brough he seems to have time for everything." The secret of it was, that he ne left a minute unemployed; withal he possessed a constitution of iron. W arrived at an age at which most men would have retired from the wor enjoy their hard-earned leisure, perhaps to doze away their time in an chair, Lord Brougham commenced and prosecuted a series of elaborat investigations as to the laws of Light, and he submitted the results to most scientific audiences that Paris and London could muster. About t same time, he was passing through the press his admirable sketches o 'Men of Science and Literature of the Reign of George III.,' and taking full share of the law business and the political discussions in the Hous Lords. Sydney Smith once recommended him to confine himself to onl transaction of so much business as three strong men could get throug such was Brougham's love of work--long become a habit--that no amou of application seems to have been too great for him; and such was his of excellence, that it has been said of him that if his station in life had only that of a shoe-black, he would never have rested satisfied until he become the best shoe-black in England. Another hard-working man of the same class is Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. Few writers have done more, or achieved higher distinction in various walksa novelist, poet, dramatist, historian, essayist, orator, and politician. He worked his way step by step, disdainful of ease, and animated throughou 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 CHAPTER I 20 produced so much of high quality. The industry of Bulwer is entitled to the greater praise that it has been entirely self-imposed. To hunt, and and live at ease,--to frequent the clubs and enjoy the opera, with the v of London visiting and sight-seeing during the "season," and then off t country mansion, with its well-stocked preserves, and its thousand delightful out-door pleasures,--to travel abroad, to Paris, Vienna, or Rome,--all this is excessively attractive to a lover of pleasure and a ma fortune, and by no means calculated to make him voluntarily undertak continuous labour of any kind. Yet these pleasures, all within his reach Bulwer must, as compared with men born to similar estate, have denie himself in assuming the position and pursuing the career of a literary Like Byron, his first effort was poetical ('Weeds and Wild Flowers'), an failure. His second was a novel ('Falkland'), and it proved a failure too man of weaker nerve would have dropped authorship; but Bulwer had pluck and perseverance; and he worked on, determined to succeed. H incessantly industrious, read extensively, and from failure went courageously onwards to success. 'Pelham' followed 'Falkland' within 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 achievem were, like Bulwer's, in literature; and he reached success only through succession of failures. His 'Wondrous Tale of Alroy' and 'Revolutionary Epic' were laughed at, and regarded as indications of literary lunacy. B worked on in other directions, and his 'Coningsby,' 'Sybil,' and 'Tancre proved the sterling stuff of which he was made. As an orator too, his fi appearance in the House of Commons was a failure. It was spoken of a "more screaming than an Adelphi farce." Though composed in a grand ambitious strain, every sentence was hailed with "loud laughter." 'Ham played as a comedy were nothing to it. But he concluded with a senten which embodied a prophecy. Writhing under the laughter with which h studied eloquence had been received, he exclaimed, "I have begun sev times many things, and have succeeded in them at last. I shall sit dow now, but the time will come when you will hear me." The time did com and how Disraeli succeeded in at length commanding the attention of CHAPTER I 21 first assembly of gentlemen in the world, affords a striking illustration what energy and determination will do; for Disraeli earned his positio dint of patient industry. He did not, as many young men do, having on failed, retire dejected, to mope and whine in a corner, but diligently se himself to work. He carefully unlearnt his faults, studied the characte his audience, practised sedulously the art of speech, and industriously his mind with the elements of parliamentary knowledge. He worked patiently for success; and it came, but slowly: then the House laughed him, instead of at him. The recollection of his early failure was effaced by general consent he was at length admitted to be one of the most fin and effective of parliamentary speakers. Although much may be accomplished by means of individual industry energy, as these and other instances set forth in the following pages s illustrate, it must at the same time be acknowledged that the help whi derive from others in the journey of life is of very great importance. T poet Wordsworth has well said that "these two things, contradictory th they may seem, must go together--manly dependence and manly independence, manly reliance and manly self-reliance." From infancy age, all are more or less indebted to others for nurture and culture; an best and strongest are usually found the readiest to acknowledge such Take, for example, the career of the late Alexis de Tocqueville, a man doubly well-born, for his father was a distinguished peer of France, an mother a grand-daughter of Malesherbes. Through powerful family influence, he was appointed Judge Auditor at Versailles when only twenty-one; but probably feeling that he had not fairly won the positio merit, he determined to give it up and owe his future advancement in himself alone. "A foolish resolution," some will say; but De Tocqueville bravely acted it out. He resigned his appointment, and made arrangem to leave France for the purpose of travelling through the United State results of which were published in his great book on 'Democracy in America.' His friend and travelling companion, Gustave de Beaumont, described his indefatigable industry during this journey. "His nature," says, "was wholly averse to idleness, and whether he was travelling or resting, his mind was always at work. . . . With Alexis, the most agreea conversation was that which was the most useful. The worst day was t CHAPTER I 22 lost day, or the day ill spent; the least loss of time annoyed him." Tocqueville himself wrote to a friend--"There is no time of life at which one can wholly cease from action, for effort without one's self, and stil more effort within, is equally necessary, if not more so, when we grow as it is in youth. I compare man in this world to a traveller journeying without ceasing towards a colder and colder region; the higher he goe faster he ought to walk. The great malady of the soul is cold. And in resisting this formidable evil, one needs not only to be sustained by th action of a mind employed, but also by contact with one's fellows in th business of life." {3} Notwithstanding de Tocqueville's decided views as to the necessity of exercising individual energy and self-dependence, no one could be mo ready than he was to recognise the value of that help and support for all men are indebted to others in a greater or less degree. Thus, he of acknowledged, with gratitude, his obligations to his friends De Kergor and Stofells,--to the former for intellectual assistance, and to the latte moral support and sympathy. To De Kergorlay he wrote--"Thine is the soul in which I have confidence, and whose influence exercises a genu effect upon my own. Many others have influence upon the details of m actions, but no one has so much influence as thou on the origination o fundamental ideas, and of those principles which are the rule of condu De Tocqueville was not less ready to confess the great obligations whi owed to his wife, Marie, for the preservation of that temper and frame mind which enabled him to prosecute his studies with success. He bel that a noble- minded woman insensibly elevated the character of her husband, while one of a grovelling nature as certainly tended to degra {4} In fine, human character is moulded by a thousand subtle influences; example and precept; by life and literature; by friends and neighbours the world we live in as well as by the spirits of our forefathers, whose legacy of good words and deeds we inherit. But great, unquestionably though these influences are acknowledged to be, it is nevertheless equ clear that men must necessarily be the active agents of their own well and well- doing; and that, however much the wise and the good may o CHAPTER II 23 others, they themselves must in the very nature of things be their own helpers. CHAPTER II --LEADERS OF INDUSTRY--INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS "Le travail et la Science sont desormais les maitres du monde."--De Salvandy. "Deduct all that men of the humbler classes have done for England in way of inventions only, and see where she would have been but for them."--Arthur Helps. One of the most strongly-marked features of the English people is the spirit of industry, standing out prominent and distinct in their past his and as strikingly characteristic of them now as at any former period. I this spirit, displayed by the commons of England, which has laid the foundations and built up the industrial greatness of the empire. This vigorous growth of the nation has been mainly the result of the free en of individuals, and it has been contingent upon the number of hands a minds from time to time actively employed within it, whether as cultiv of the soil, producers of articles of utility, contrivers of tools and mach writers of books, or creators of works of art. And while this spirit of ac industry has been the vital principle of the nation, it has also been its and remedial one, counteracting from time to time the effects of error our laws and imperfections in our constitution. The career of industry which the nation has pursued, has also proved best education. As steady application to work is the healthiest training every individual, so is it the best discipline of a state. Honourable indu travels the same road with duty; and Providence has closely linked bo with happiness. The gods, says the poet, have placed labour and toil o way leading to the Elysian fields. Certain it is that no bread eaten by m so sweet as that earned by his own labour, whether bodily or mental. B labour the earth has been subdued, and man redeemed from barbaris CHAPTER II 24 has a single step in civilization been made without it. Labour is not on necessity and a duty, but a blessing: only the idler feels it to be a curs duty of work is written on the thews and muscles of the limbs, the mechanism of the hand, the nerves and lobes of the brain--the sum of whose healthy action is satisfaction and enjoyment. In the school of la is taught the best practical wisdom; nor is a life of manual employmen we shall hereafter find, incompatible with high mental culture. Hugh Miller, than whom none knew better the strength and the weakn belonging to the lot of labour, stated the result of his experience to be Work, even the hardest, is full of pleasure and materials for self-improvement. He held honest labour to be the best of teachers, an 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 spirit of independence learnt, and the habit of persevering effort acqu He was even of opinion that the training of the mechanic,--by the exer which it gives to his observant faculties, from his daily dealing with th actual and practical, and the close experience of life which he acquires,--better fits him for picking his way along the journey of life, is more favourable to his growth as a Man, emphatically speaking, tha training afforded by any other condition. The array of great names which we have already cursorily cited, of me springing from the ranks of the industrial classes, who have achieved distinction in various walks of life--in science, commerce, literature, a art--shows that at all events the difficulties interposed by poverty and labour are not insurmountable. As respects 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 indebted to men of the humblest rank. Deduct what they have done in particular line of action, and it will be found that very little indeed rem for other men to have accomplished. Inventors have set in motion some of the greatest industries of the wo To them society owes many of its chief necessaries, comforts, and luxu and by their genius and labour daily life has been rendered in all resp CHAPTER II 25 more easy as well as enjoyable. Our food, our clothing, the furniture o homes, the glass which admits the light to our dwellings at the same t that it excludes the cold, the gas which illuminates our streets, our me locomotion by land and by sea, the tools by which our various articles necessity and luxury are fabricated, have been the result of the labour ingenuity of many men and many minds. Mankind at large are all the happier for such inventions, and are every day reaping the benefit of t in an increase of individual well-being as well as of public enjoyment. Though the invention of the working steam-engine--the king of machines--belongs, comparatively speaking, to our own epoch, the ide it was born many centuries ago. Like other contrivances and discoveri was effected step by step--one man transmitting the result of his labou the time apparently useless, to his successors, who took it up and carr forward another stage,-- the prosecution of the inquiry extending over generations. Thus the idea promulgated by Hero of Alexandria was ne altogether lost; but, like the grain of wheat hid in the hand of the Egyp mummy, it sprouted and again grew vigorously when brought into the light of modern science. The steam-engine was nothing, however, unti emerged from the state of theory, and was taken in hand by practical mechanics; and what a noble story of patient, laborious investigation, difficulties encountered and overcome by heroic industry, does not tha marvellous machine tell of! It is indeed, in itself, a monument of the p of self-help in man. Grouped around it we find Savary, the military engineer; Newcomen, the Dartmouth blacksmith; Cawley, the glazier; Potter, the engine-boy; Smeaton, the civil engineer; and, towering abo all, the laborious, patient, never-tiring James Watt, the mathematical-instrument maker. Watt was one of the most industrious of men; and the story of his life proves, what all experience confirms, that it is not the man of the grea natural vigour and capacity who achieves the highest results, but he w employs his powers with the greatest industry and the most carefully disciplined skill--the skill that comes by labour, application, and experience. Many men in his time knew far more than Watt, but none laboured so assiduously as he did to turn all that he did know to usefu CHAPTER II 26 practical purposes. He was, above all things, most persevering in the pursuit of facts. He cultivated carefully that habit of active attention o which all the higher working qualities of the mind mainly depend. Ind Mr. Edgeworth entertained the opinion, that the difference of intellect men depends more upon the early cultivation of this HABIT OF ATTENTION, than upon any great disparity between the powers of on 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 physiol and his solitary walks through the country attracted him to the study botany and history. While carrying on the business of a mathematical-instrument maker, he received an order to build an orga and, though without an ear for music, he undertook the study of harm and successfully constructed the instrument. And, in like manner, whe little model of Newcomen's steam-engine, belonging to the University Glasgow, was placed in his hands to repair, he forthwith set himself to all that was then known about heat, evaporation, and condensation,--a same time plodding his way in mechanics and the science of construction,--the results of which he at length embodied in his conde steam-engine. For ten years he went on contriving and inventing--with little hope to him, and with few friends to encourage him. He went on, meanwhile, earning bread for his family by making and selling quadrants, making mending fiddles, flutes, and musical instruments; measuring mason-w surveying roads, superintending the construction of canals, or doing anything that turned up, and offered a prospect of honest gain. At leng Watt found a fit partner in another eminent leader of industry--Matthe Boulton, of Birmingham; a skilful, energetic, and far-seeing man, who vigorously undertook the enterprise of introducing the condensing- en into general use as a working power; and the success of both is now m of history. {5} CHAPTER II 27 Many skilful inventors have from time to time added new power to the steam-engine; and, by numerous modifications, rendered it capable of applied to nearly all the purposes of manufacture- -driving machinery, impelling ships, grinding corn, printing books, stamping money, hammering, planing, and turning iron; in short, of performing every description of mechanical labour where power is required. One of the useful modifications in the engine was that devised by Trevithick, and eventually perfected by George Stephenson and his son, in the form o railway locomotive, by which social changes of immense importance h been brought about, of even greater consequence, considered in their on human progress and civilization, than the condensing-engine of Wa One of the first grand results of Watt's invention,--which placed an alm unlimited power at the command of the producing classes,- -was the establishment of the cotton-manufacture. The person most closely identified with the foundation of this great branch of industry was unquestionably Sir Richard Arkwright, whose practical energy and sa were perhaps even more remarkable than his mechanical inventivene originality as an inventor has indeed been called in question, like that Watt and Stephenson. Arkwright probably stood in the same relation t spinning- machine that Watt did to the steam-engine and Stephenson locomotive. He gathered together the scattered threads of ingenuity w already existed, and wove them, after his own design, into a new and original fabric. Though Lewis Paul, of Birmingham, patented the inven of spinning by rollers thirty years before Arkwright, the machines constructed by him were so imperfect in their details, that they could profitably worked, and the invention was practically a failure. Another obscure mechanic, a reed-maker of Leigh, named Thomas Highs, is al said to have invented the water-frame and spinning-jenny; but they, to proved unsuccessful. When the demands of industry are found to press upon the resources inventors, the same idea is usually found floating about in many minds;--such has been the case with the steam-engine, the safety- lam electric telegraph, and other inventions. Many ingenious minds are fo labouring in the throes of invention, until at length the master mind, t CHAPTER II 28 strong practical man, steps forward, and straightway delivers them of idea, applies the principle successfully, and the thing is done. Then the a loud outcry among all the smaller contrivers, who see themselves distanced in the race; and hence men such as Watt, Stephenson, and Arkwright, have usually to defend their reputation and their rights as practical and successful inventors. Richard Arkwright, like most of our great mechanicians, sprang from ranks. He was born in Preston in 1732. His parents were very poor, an was the youngest of thirteen children. He was never at school: the onl education he received he gave to himself; and to the last he was only a write with difficulty. When a boy, he was apprenticed to a barber, and learning the business, he set up for himself in Bolton, where he occup underground cellar, over which he put up the sign, "Come to the subterraneous barber--he shaves for a penny." The other barbers foun customers leaving them, and reduced their prices to his standard, whe Arkwright, determined to push his trade, announced his determination give "A clean shave for a halfpenny." After a few years he quitted his cellar, and became an itinerant dealer in hair. At that time wigs were w and wig-making formed an important branch of the barbering busines Arkwright went about buying hair for the wigs. He was accustomed to attend the hiring fairs throughout Lancashire resorted to by young wo for the purpose of securing their long tresses; and it is said that in negotiations of this sort he was very successful. He also dealt in a che hair dye, which he used adroitly, and thereby secured a considerable t But he does not seem, notwithstanding his pushing character, to have more than earn a bare living. The fashion of wig-wearing having undergone a change, distress fell u the wig-makers; and Arkwright, being of a mechanical turn, was consequently induced to turn machine inventor or "conjurer," as the p was then popularly termed. Many attempts were made about that time invent a spinning-machine, and our barber determined to launch his li bark on the sea of invention with the rest. Like other self-taught men o same bias, he had already been devoting his spare time to the inventio perpetual-motion machine; and from that the transition to a CHAPTER II 29 spinning-machine was easy. He followed his experiments so assiduous that he neglected his business, lost the little money he had saved, and reduced to great poverty. His wife--for he had by this time married--wa impatient at what she conceived to be a wanton waste of time and mo and in a moment of sudden wrath she seized upon and destroyed his models, hoping thus to remove the cause of the family privations. Arkwright was a stubborn and enthusiastic man, and he was provoked beyond measure by this conduct of his wife, from whom he immediate separated. In travelling about the country, Arkwright had become acquainted wit person named Kay, a clockmaker at Warrington, who assisted him in constructing some of the parts of his perpetual-motion machinery. It is supposed that he was informed by Kay of the principle of spinning by rollers; but it is also said that the idea was first suggested to him by accidentally observing a red-hot piece of iron become elongated by pa between iron rollers. However this may be, the idea at once took firm possession of his mind, and he proceeded to devise the process by wh was to be accomplished, Kay being able to tell him nothing on this poi Arkwright now abandoned his business of hair collecting, and devoted himself to the perfecting of his machine, a model of which, constructe Kay under his directions, he set up in the parlour of the Free Gramma School at Preston. Being a burgess of the town, he voted at the contes election at which General Burgoyne was returned; but such was his poverty, and such the tattered state of his dress, that a number of pers subscribed a sum sufficient to have him put in a state fit to appear in t poll-room. The exhibition of his machine in a town where so many workpeople lived by the exercise of manual labour proved a dangerou experiment; ominous growlings were heard outside the school-room fr time to time, and Arkwright,--remembering the fate of Kay, who was mobbed and compelled to fly from Lancashire because of his invention the fly-shuttle, and of poor Hargreaves, whose spinning-jenny had bee pulled to pieces only a short time before by a Blackburn mob,- -wisely determined on packing up his model and removing to a less dangerou locality. He went accordingly to Nottingham, where he applied to som the local bankers for pecuniary assistance; and the Messrs. Wright CHAPTER II 30 consented to advance him a sum of money on condition of sharing in t profits of the invention. The machine, however, not being perfected so as they had anticipated, the bankers recommended Arkwright to apply Messrs. Strutt and Need, the former of whom was the ingenious inven and patentee of the stocking-frame. Mr. Strutt at once appreciated the merits of the invention, and a partnership was entered into with Arkw whose road to fortune was now clear. The patent was secured in the n of "Richard Arkwright, of Nottingham, clockmaker," and it is a circumstance worthy of note, that it was taken out in 1769, the same y which Watt secured the patent for his steam-engine. A cotton-mill was erected at Nottingham, driven by horses; and another was shortly afte built, on a much larger scale, at Cromford, in Derbyshire, turned by a water-wheel, from which circumstance the spinning-machine came to called the water- frame. Arkwright's labours, however, were, comparatively speaking, only beg He had still to perfect all the working details of his machine. It was in hands the subject of constant modification and improvement, until eventually it was rendered practicable and profitable in an eminent de But success was only secured by long and patient labour: for some yea indeed, the speculation was disheartening and unprofitable, swallowin a very large amount of capital without any result. When success began appear more certain, then the Lancashire manufacturers fell upon Arkwright's patent to pull it in pieces, as the Cornish miners fell upon Boulton and Watt to rob them of the profits of their steam- engine. Arkwright was even denounced as the enemy of the working people; a mill which he built near Chorley was destroyed by a mob in the presen a strong force of police and military. The Lancashire men refused to b his materials, though they were confessedly the best in the market. Th they refused to pay patent-right for the use of his machines, and comb to crush him in the courts of law. To the disgust of right-minded peopl Arkwright's patent was upset. After the trial, when passing the hotel a which his opponents were staying, one of them said, loud enough to b heard by him, "Well, we've done the old shaver at last;" to which he co replied, "Never mind, I've a razor left that will shave you all." He established new mills in Lancashire, Derbyshire, and at New Lanark, i CHAPTER II 31 Scotland. The mills at Cromford also came into his hands at the expiry his partnership with Strutt, and the amount and the excellence of his products were such, that in a short time he obtained so complete a co of the trade, that the prices were fixed by him, and he governed the m operations of the other cotton-spinners. Arkwright was a man of great force of character, indomitable courage much worldly shrewdness, with a business faculty almost amounting t genius. At one period his time was engrossed by severe and continuou labour, occasioned by the organising and conducting of his numerous manufactories, sometimes from four in the morning till nine at night. A fifty years of age he set to work to learn English grammar, and improv himself in writing and orthography. After overcoming every obstacle, h had the satisfaction of reaping the reward of his enterprise. Eighteen after he had constructed his first machine, he rose to such estimation Derbyshire that he was appointed High Sheriff of the county, and shor after George III. conferred upon him the honour of knighthood. He die 1792. Be it for good or for evil, Arkwright was the founder in England the modern factory system, a branch of industry which has unquestion proved a source of immense wealth to individuals and to the nation. All the other great branches of industry in Britain furnish like example energetic men of business, the source of much benefit to the neighbourhoods in which they have laboured, and of increased power wealth to the community at large. Amongst such might be cited the St of Belper; the Tennants of Glasgow; the Marshalls and Gotts of Leeds; Peels, Ashworths, Birleys, Fieldens, Ashtons, Heywoods, and Ainswort of South Lancashire, some of whose descendants have since become distinguished in connection with the political history of England. Such pre-eminently were 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 removed to a house situated in Fish Lane in that Robert Peel, as he advanced in life, saw a large family of sons and daughters growing up about him; but the land about Blackburn being CHAPTER II 32 somewhat barren, it did not appear to him that agricultural pursuits o a very encouraging prospect for their industry. The place had, howeve long been the seat of a domestic manufacture--the fabric called "Black greys," consisting of linen weft and cotton warp, being chiefly made in town and its neighbourhood. It was then customary--previous to the introduction of the factory system--for industrious yeomen with familie employ the time not occupied in the fields in weaving at home; and Ro Peel accordingly began the domestic trade of calico-making. He was honest, and made an honest article; thrifty and hardworking, and his t prospered. He was also enterprising, and was one of the first to adopt carding cylinder, then recently invented. But Robert Peel's attention was principally directed to the PRINTING calico--then a comparatively unknown art--and for some time he carrie a series of experiments with the object of printing by machinery. The experiments were secretly conducted in his own house, the cloth bein 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 him that an impression might be got from it in reverse, and printed on calico with colour. In a cottage at the end of the farm-house lived a wo who kept a calendering machine, and going into her cottage, he put th plate with colour rubbed into the figured part and some calico over it, through the machine, when it was found to leave a satisfactory impres Such is said to have been the origin of roller printing on calico. Rober shortly perfected his process, and the first pattern he brought out was parsley leaf; hence he is spoken of in the neighbourhood of Blackburn this day as "Parsley Peel." The process of calico printing by what is ca the mule machine--that is, by means of a wooden cylinder in relief, wit engraved copper cylinder--was afterwards brought to perfection by on 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 a his sons, who were as energetic as himself, he successfully carried on trade for several years; and as the young men grew up towards manho CHAPTER II 33 the concern branched out into various firms of Peels, each of which be a centre of industrial activity and a source of remunerative employme large numbers of people. From what can now be learnt of the character of the original and unti Robert Peel, he must have been a remarkable man--shrewd, sagacious far-seeing. But little is known of him excepting from traditions and the of those who knew him are fast passing away. His son, Sir Robert, thu modestly spoke of him:- "My father may be truly said to have been the founder of our family; and he so accurately appreciated the importanc commercial wealth in a national point of view, that he was often heard say that the gains to individuals were small compared with the nation gains arising from trade." Sir Robert Peel, the first baronet and the second manufacturer of the inherited all his father's enterprise, ability, and industry. His position, starting in life, was little above that of an ordinary working man; for h father, though laying the foundations of future prosperity, was still struggling with the difficulties arising from insufficient capital. When Robert was only twenty years of age, he determined to begin the busin of cotton-printing, which he had by this time learnt from his father, on own account. His uncle, James Haworth, and William Yates of Blackbu joined him in his enterprise; the whole capital which they could raise amongst them amounting to only about 500l., the principal part of wh was supplied by William Yates. The father of the latter was a househol in Blackburn, where he was well known and much respected; and hav saved money by his business, he was willing to advance sufficient to g his son a start in the lucrative trade of cotton-printing, then in its infa Robert Peel, though comparatively a mere youth, supplied the practica knowledge of the business; but it was said of him, and proved true, th "carried an old head on young shoulders." A ruined corn- mill, with its adjoining fields, was purchased for a comparatively small sum, near th then insignificant town of Bury, where the works long after continued known as "The Ground;" and a few wooden sheds having been run up, firm commenced their cotton- printing business in a very humble way the year 1770, adding to it that of cotton-spinning a few years later. Th CHAPTER II 34 frugal style in which the partners lived may be inferred from the follow incident in their early career. William Yates, being a married man with family, commenced housekeeping on a small scale, and, to oblige Peel who was single, he agreed to take him as a lodger. The sum which the first paid for board and lodging was only 8s. a week; but Yates, consid this too little, insisted on the weekly payment being increased a shillin which Peel at first demurred, and a difference between the partners to place, which was eventually compromised by the lodger paying an adv of sixpence a week. William Yates's eldest child was a girl named Ellen and she very soon became an especial favourite with the young lodger returning from his hard day's work at "The Ground," he would take th girl upon his knee, and say to her, "Nelly, thou bonny little dear, wilt b wife?" to which the child would readily answer "Yes," as any child wou do. "Then I'll wait for thee, Nelly; I'll wed thee, and none else." And Ro Peel did wait. As the girl grew in beauty towards womanhood, his determination to wait for her was strengthened; and after the lapse of years--years of close application to business and rapidly increasing prosperity--Robert Peel married Ellen Yates when she had completed h seventeenth year; and the pretty child, whom her mother's lodger and father's partner had nursed upon his knee, became Mrs. Peel, and eve Lady Peel, the mother of the future Prime Minister of England. Lady P was a noble and beautiful woman, fitted to grace any station in life. Sh possessed rare powers of mind, and was, on every emergency, the high-souled and faithful counsellor of her husband. For many years aft their marriage, she acted as his amanuensis, conducting the principal his business correspondence, for Mr. Peel himself was an indifferent a almost unintelligible writer. She died in 1803, only three years after th Baronetcy had been conferred upon her husband. It is said that Londo fashionable life--so unlike what she had been accustomed to at home--proved injurious to her health; and old Mr. Yates afterwards use say, "if Robert hadn't made our Nelly a 'Lady,' she might ha' been livin yet." The career of Yates, Peel, & Co., was throughout one of great and uninterrupted prosperity. Sir Robert Peel himself was the soul of the fi to great energy and application uniting much practical sagacity, and CHAPTER II 35 first-rate mercantile abilities--qualities in which many of the early cotton-spinners were exceedingly deficient. He was a man of iron min frame, and toiled unceasingly. In short, he was to cotton printing what Arkwright was to cotton- spinning, and his success was equally great. excellence of the articles produced by the firm secured the command market, and the character of the firm stood pre-eminent in Lancashire Besides greatly benefiting Bury, the partnership planted similar exten works in the neighbourhood, on the Irwell and the Roch; and it was ci their honour, that, while they sought to raise to the highest perfection quality of their manufactures, they also endeavoured, in all ways, to promote the well-being and comfort of their workpeople; for whom the contrived to provide remunerative employment even in the least prosp times. Sir Robert Peel readily appreciated the value of all new processes and inventions; in illustration of which we may allude to his adoption of th process for producing what is called RESIST WORK in calico printing. This is accomplished by the use of a paste, or resist, on such parts of t cloth as were intended to remain white. The person who discovered th paste was a traveller for a London house, who sold it to Mr. Peel for an inconsiderable sum. It required the experience of a year or two to per the system and make it practically useful; but the beauty of its effect, the extreme precision of outline in the pattern produced, at once plac Bury establishment at the head of all the factories for calico printing i country. Other firms, conducted with like spirit, were established by members of the same family at Burnley, Foxhill bank, and Altham, in Lancashire; Salley Abbey, in Yorkshire; and afterwards at Burton-on-T in Staffordshire; these various establishments, whilst they brought we their proprietors, setting an example to the whole cotton trade, and tr up many of the most successful printers and manufacturers in Lancas Among other distinguished founders of industry, the Rev. William Lee, inventor of the Stocking Frame, and John Heathcoat, inventor of the Bobbin-net Machine, are worthy of notice, as men of great mechanica and perseverance, through whose labours a vast amount of remunerat employment has been provided for the labouring population of Notting CHAPTER II 36 and the adjacent districts. The accounts which have been preserved o circumstances connected with the invention of the Stocking Frame ar confused, and in many respects contradictory, though there is no doub to the name of the inventor. This was William Lee, born at Woodborou a village some seven miles from Nottingham, about the year 1563. According to some accounts, he was the heir to a small freehold, while according to others he was a poor scholar, {6} and had to struggle wi poverty from his earliest years. He entered as a sizar at Christ College Cambridge, in May, 1579, and subsequently removed to St. John's, tak his degree of B.A. in 1582-3. It is believed that he commenced M.A. in 1586; but on this point there appears to be some confusion in the reco the University. The statement usually made that he was expelled for marrying contrary to the statutes, is incorrect, as he was never a Fello the University, and therefore could not be prejudiced by taking such a At the time when Lee invented the Stocking Frame he was officiating curate of Calverton, near Nottingham; and it is alleged by some writer the invention had its origin in disappointed affection. The curate is sai have fallen deeply in love with a young lady of the village, who failed t reciprocate his affections; and when he visited her, she was accustome pay much more attention to the process of knitting stockings and instr her pupils in the art, than to the addresses of her admirer. This slight to have created in his mind such an aversion to knitting by hand, that formed the determination to invent a machine that should supersede i render it a gainless employment. For three years he devoted himself t prosecution of the invention, sacrificing everything to his new idea. At prospect of success opened before him, he abandoned his curacy, and devoted himself to the art of stocking making by machinery. This is th version of the story given by Henson {7} on the authority of an old stocking-maker, who died in Collins's Hospital, Nottingham, aged ninety-two, and was apprenticed in the town during the reign of Quee Anne. It is also given by Deering and Blackner as the traditional accou the neighbourhood, and it is in some measure borne out by the arms o London Company of Frame-Work Knitters, which consists of a stocking frame without the wood-work, with a clergyman on one side and a wo on the other as supporters. {8} CHAPTER II 37 Whatever may have been the actual facts as to the origin of the invent the Stocking Loom, there can be no doubt as to the extraordinary mechanical genius displayed by its inventor. That a clergyman living in remote village, whose life had for the most part been spent with books should contrive a machine of such delicate and complicated movemen and at once advance the art of knitting from the tedious process of lin threads in a chain of loops by three skewers in the fingers of a woman the beautiful and rapid process of weaving by the stocking frame, was indeed an astonishing achievement, which may be pronounced almost unequalled in the history of mechanical invention. Lee's merit was all greater, as the handicraft arts were then in their infancy, and little att had as yet been given to the contrivance of machinery for the purpose manufacture. He was under the necessity of extemporising the parts o machine as he best could, and adopting various expedients to overcom difficulties as they arose. His tools were imperfect, and his materials imperfect; and he had no skilled workmen to assist him. According to tradition, the first frame he made was a twelve gauge, without lead sin and it was almost wholly of wood; the needles being also stuck in bits wood. One of Lee's principal difficulties consisted in the formation of t stitch, for want of needle eyes; but this he eventually overcame by for eyes to the needles with a three-square file. {9} At length, one difficu after another was successfully overcome, and after three years' labou machine was sufficiently complete to be fit for use. The quondam cura full of enthusiasm for his art, now began stocking weaving in the villag Calverton, and he continued to work there for several years, instructin brother James and several of his relations in the practice of the art. Having brought his frame to a considerable degree of perfection, and be desirous of securing the patronage of Queen Elizabeth, whose partiality knitted silk stockings was well known, Lee proceeded to London to exhib the loom before her Majesty. He first showed it to several members of the court, among others to Sir William (afterwards Lord) Hunsdon, whom he taught to work it with success; and Lee was, through their instrumentali at length admitted to an interview with the Queen, and worked the mach in her presence. Elizabeth, however, did not give him the encouragemen that he had expected; and she is said to have opposed the invention on th CHAPTER II 38 ground that it was calculated to deprive a large number of poor peopl their employment of hand knitting. Lee was no more successful in find other patrons, and considering himself and his invention treated with contempt, he embraced the offer made to him by Sully, the sagacious minister of Henry IV., to proceed to Rouen and instruct the operatives that town--then one of the most important manufacturing centres of France--in the construction and use of the stocking-frame. Lee accord transferred himself and his machines to France, in 1605, taking with h his brother and seven workmen. He met with a cordial reception at Ro and was proceeding with the manufacture of stockings on a large scale--having nine of his frames in full work,--when unhappily ill fortun again overtook him. Henry IV., his protector, on whom he had relied fo rewards, honours, and promised grant of privileges, which had induce to settle in France, was murdered by the fanatic Ravaillac; and the encouragement and protection which had heretofore been extended to were at once withdrawn. To press his claims at court, Lee proceeded t Paris; but being a protestant as well as a foreigner, his representation treated with neglect; and worn out with vexation and grief, this distinguished inventor shortly after died at Paris, in a state of extreme poverty and distress. Lee's brother, with seven of the workmen, succeeded in escaping from France with their frames, leaving two behind. On James Lee's return t Nottinghamshire, he was joined by one Ashton, a miller of Thoroton, w had been instructed in the art of frame-work knitting by the inventor himself before he left England. These two, with the workmen and thei frames, began the stocking manufacture at Thoroton, and carried it on considerable success. The place was favourably situated for the purpo the sheep pastured in the neighbouring district of Sherwood yielded a of wool of the longest staple. Ashton is said to have introduced the me of making the frames with lead sinkers, which was a great improveme The number of looms employed in different parts of England gradually increased; and the machine manufacture of stockings eventually beca important branch of the national industry. CHAPTER II 39 One of the most important modifications in the Stocking-Frame was th which enabled it to be applied to the manufacture of lace on a large sc In 1777, two workmen, Frost and Holmes, were both engaged in maki point-net by means of the modifications they had introduced in the stocking-frame; and in the course of about thirty years, so rapid was t growth of this branch of production that 1500 point-net frames were a work, giving employment to upwards of 15,000 people. Owing, howev to the war, to change of fashion, and to other circumstances, the Nottingham lace manufacture rapidly fell off; and it continued in a decaying state until the invention of the Bobbin-net Machine by John Heathcoat, late M.P. for Tiverton, which had the effect of at once re-establishing the manufacture on solid foundations. John Heathcoat was the youngest son of a respectable small farmer at Duffield, Derbyshire, where he was born in 1783. When at school he m steady and rapid progress, but was early removed from it to be appren to a frame-smith near Loughborough. The boy soon learnt to handle to with dexterity, and he acquired a minute knowledge of the parts of wh the stocking-frame was composed, as well as of the more intricate warp-machine. At his leisure he studied how to introduce improvemen them, and his friend, Mr. Bazley, M.P., states that as early as the age o sixteen, he conceived the idea of inventing a machine by which lace m be made similar to Buckingham or French lace, then all made by hand first practical improvement he succeeded in introducing was in the warp-frame, when, by means of an ingenious apparatus, he succeeded producing "mitts" of a lacy appearance, and it was this success which determined him to pursue the study of mechanical lace-making. The stocking-frame had already, in a modified form, been applied to the manufacture of point-net lace, in which the mesh was LOOPED as in a stocking, but the work was slight and frail, and therefore unsatisfacto Many ingenious Nottingham mechanics had, during a long succession years, been labouring at the problem of inventing a machine by which mesh of threads should be TWISTED round each other on the formatio the net. Some of these men died in poverty, some were driven insane, all alike failed in the object of their search. The old warp-machine held ground. CHAPTER II 40 When a little over twenty-one years of age, Heathcoat went to Notting where he readily found employment, for which he soon received the highest remuneration, as a setter-up of hosiery and warp-frames, and much respected for his talent for invention, general intelligence, and t sound and sober principles that governed his conduct. He also continu pursue the subject on which his mind had before been occupied, and laboured to compass the contrivance of a twist traverse-net machine. first studied the art of making the Buckingham or pillow-lace by hand, the object of effecting the same motions by mechanical means. It was long and laborious task, requiring the exercise of great perseverance ingenuity. His master, Elliot, described him at that time as inventive, patient, self-denying, and taciturn, undaunted by failures and mistake of resources and expedients, and entertaining the most perfect confid that his application of mechanical principles would eventually be crow with success. It is difficult to describe in words an invention so complicated as the bobbin-net machine. It was, indeed, a mechanical pillow for making la imitating in an ingenious manner the motions of the lace-maker's fing intersecting or tying the meshes of the lace upon her pillow. On analys the component parts of a piece of hand-made lace, Heathcoat was ena to classify the threads into longitudinal and diagonal. He began his experiments by fixing common pack-threads lengthwise on a sort of fr for the warp, and then passing the weft threads between them by com plyers, delivering them to other plyers on the opposite side; then, afte giving them a sideways motion and twist, the threads were repassed b between the next adjoining cords, the meshes being thus tied in the sa way as upon pillows by hand. He had then to contrive a mechanism th should accomplish all these nice and delicate movements, and to do th cost him no small amount of mental toil. Long after he said, "The sing difficulty of getting the diagonal threads to twist in the allotted space so great that if it had now to be done, I should probably not attempt it accomplishment." His next step was to provide thin metallic discs, to b used as bobbins for conducting the threads backwards and forwards through the warp. These discs, being arranged in carrier-frames place each side of the warp, were moved by suitable machinery so as to con CHAPTER II 41 the threads from side to side in forming the lace. He eventually succee in working out his principle with extraordinary skill and success; and, age of twenty-four, he was enabled to secure his invention by a patent During this time his wife was kept in almost as great anxiety as himse she well knew of his trials and difficulties while he was striving to per his invention. Many years after they had been successfully overcome, conversation which took place one eventful evening was vividly remembered. "Well," said the anxious wife, "will it work?" "No," was th sad answer; "I have had to take it all to pieces again." Though he coul speak hopefully and cheerfully, his poor wife could restrain her feeling longer, but sat down and cried bitterly. She had, however, only a few m weeks to wait, for success long laboured for and richly deserved, cam last, and a proud and happy man was John Heathcoat when he brough home the first narrow strip of bobbin-net made by his machine, and pl it in the hands of his wife. As in the case of nearly all inventions which have proved productive, Heathcoat's rights as a patentee were disputed, and his claims as an i called in question. On the supposed invalidity of the patent, the lace-m boldly adopted the bobbin-net machine, and set the inventor at defian But other patents were taken out for alleged improvements and adapt and it was only when these new patentees fell out and went to law wit each other that Heathcoat's rights became established. One lace-manufacturer having brought an action against another for an all infringement of his patent, the jury brought in a verdict for the defend which the judge concurred, on the ground that BOTH the machines in question were infringements of Heathcoat's patent. It was on the occa of this trial, "Boville v. Moore," that Sir John Copley (afterwards Lord Lyndhurst), who was retained for the defence in the interest of Mr. Heathcoat, learnt to work the bobbin-net machine in order that he mig master the details of the invention. On reading over his brief, he confe that he did not quite understand the merits of the case; but as it seem him to be one of great importance, he offered to go down into the cou forthwith and study the machine until he understood it; "and then," sa "I will defend you to the best of my ability." He accordingly put himsel CHAPTER II 42 into that night's mail, and went down to Nottingham to get up his case perhaps counsel never got it up before. Next morning the learned serg placed himself in a lace-loom, and he did not leave it until he could de make a piece of bobbin-net with his own hands, and thoroughly under the principle as well as the details of the machine. When the case cam for trial, the learned sergeant was enabled to work the model on the t with such case and skill, and to explain the precise nature of the inven with such felicitous clearness, as to astonish alike judge, jury, and spectators; and the thorough conscientiousness and mastery with whi handled the case had no doubt its influence upon the decision of the c After the trial was over, Mr. Heathcoat, on inquiry, found about six hundred machines at work after his patent, and he proceeded to levy upon the owners of them, which amounted to a large sum. But the pro realised by the manufacturers of lace were very great, and the use of machines rapidly extended; while the price of the article was reduced five pounds the square yard to about five pence in the course of twent years. During the same period the average annual returns of the lacehave been at least four millions sterling, and it gives remunerative employment to about 150,000 workpeople. To return to the personal history of Mr. Heathcoat. In 1809 we find him established as a lace-manufacturer at Loughborough, in Leicestershir There he carried on a prosperous business for several years, giving employment to a large number of operatives, at wages varying from 5 10l. a week. Notwithstanding the great increase in the number of han employed in lace-making through the introduction of the new machine began to be whispered about among the workpeople that they were superseding labour, and an extensive conspiracy was formed for the purpose of destroying them wherever found. As early as the year 1811 disputes arose between the masters and men engaged in the stocking lace trades in the south-western parts of Nottinghamshire and the adj parts of Derbyshire and Leicestershire, the result of which was the assembly of a mob at Sutton, in Ashfield, who proceeded in open day t break the stocking and lace-frames of the manufacturers. Some of the ringleaders having been seized and punished, the disaffected learnt ca CHAPTER II 43 but the destruction of the machines was nevertheless carried on secre wherever a safe opportunity presented itself. As the machines were of delicate a construction that a single blow of a hammer rendered them useless, and as the manufacture was carried on for the most part in de buildings, often in private dwellings remote from towns, the opportun of destroying them were unusually easy. In the neighbourhood of Nottingham, which was the focus of turbulence, the machine-breakers organized themselves in regular bodies, and held nocturnal meetings which their plans were arranged. Probably with the view of inspiring confidence, they gave out that they were under the command of a lead named Ned Ludd, or General Ludd, and hence their designation of Luddites. Under this organization machine-breaking was carried on w great vigour during the winter of 1811, occasioning great distress, an throwing large numbers of workpeople out of employment. Meanwhile owners of the frames proceeded to remove them from the villages and dwellings in the country, and brought them into warehouses in the tow for their better protection. The Luddites seem to have been encouraged by the lenity of the sente pronounced on such of their confederates as had been apprehended a tried; and, shortly after, the mania broke out afresh, and rapidly exten over the northern and midland manufacturing districts. The organizat became more secret; an oath was administered to the members bindin them to obedience to the orders issued by the heads of the confederac the betrayal of their designs was decreed to be death. All machines w doomed by them to destruction, whether employed in the manufacture cloth, calico, or lace; and a reign of terror began which lasted for year Yorkshire and Lancashire mills were boldly attacked by armed rioters, in many cases they were wrecked or burnt; so that it became necessar guard them by soldiers and yeomanry. The masters themselves were doomed to death; many of them were assaulted, and some were murd At length the law was vigorously set in motion; numbers of the misgui Luddites were apprehended; some were executed; and after several y violent commotion from this cause, the machine-breaking riots were a length quelled. CHAPTER II 44 Among the numerous manufacturers whose works were attacked by th Luddites, was the inventor of the bobbin-net machine himself. One bri sunny day, in the summer of 1816, a body of rioters entered his factor Loughborough with torches, and set fire to it, destroying thirty-seven lace-machines, and above 10,000l. worth of property. Ten of the men w apprehended for the felony, and eight of them were executed. Mr. Heathcoat made a claim upon the county for compensation, and it was resisted; but the Court of Queen's Bench decided in his favour, and de that the county must make good his loss of 10,000l. The magistrates s to couple with the payment of the damage the condition that Mr. Heat should expend the money in the county of Leicester; but to this he wo not assent, having already resolved on removing his manufacture elsewhere. At Tiverton, in Devonshire, he found a large building which been formerly used as a woollen manufactory; but the Tiverton cloth t having fallen into decay, the building remained unoccupied, and the to itself was generally in a very poverty-stricken condition. Mr. Heathcoa bought the old mill, renovated and enlarged it, and there recommence manufacture of lace upon a larger scale than before; keeping in full w many as three hundred machines, and employing a large number of ar at good wages. Not only did he carry on the manufacture of lace, but t various branches of business connected with it--yarn-doubling, silk-spinning, net-making, and finishing. He also established at Tiverto iron-foundry and works for the manufacture of agricultural implement which proved of great convenience to the district. It was a favourite id his that steam power was capable of being applied to perform all the h drudgery of life, and he laboured for a long time at the invention of a steam-plough. In 1832 he so far completed his invention as to be enab take out a patent for it; and Heathcoat's steam- plough, though it has been superseded by Fowler's, was considered the best machine of the that had up to that time been invented. Mr. Heathcoat was a man of great natural gifts. He possessed a sound understanding, quick perception, and a genius for business of the high order. With these he combined uprightness, honesty, and integrity--qu which are the true glory of human character. Himself a diligent self-educator, he gave ready encouragement to deserving youths in his CHAPTER II 45 employment, stimulating their talents and fostering their energies. Du his own busy life, he contrived to save time to master French and Itali which he acquired an accurate and grammatical knowledge. His mind largely stored with the results of a careful study of the best literature, there were few subjects on which he had not formed for himself shrew accurate views. The two thousand workpeople in his employment rega him almost as a father, and he carefully provided for their comfort and improvement. Prosperity did not spoil him, as it does so many; nor clo heart against the claims of the poor and struggling, who were always of his sympathy and help. To provide for the education of the children his workpeople, he built schools for them at a cost of about 6000l. He also a man of singularly cheerful and buoyant disposition, a favourite men of all classes and most admired and beloved by those who knew h best. In 1831 the electors of Tiverton, of which town Mr. Heathcoat had pro himself so genuine a benefactor, returned him to represent them in Parliament, and he continued their member for nearly thirty years. Du great part of that time he had Lord Palmerston for his colleague, and noble lord, on more than one public occasion, expressed the high rega which he entertained for his venerable friend. On retiring from the representation in 1859, owing to advancing age and increasing infirm thirteen hundred of his workmen presented him with a silver inkstand gold pen, in token of their esteem. He enjoyed his leisure for only two years, dying in January, 1861, at the age of seventy-seven, and leaving behind him a character for probity, virtue, manliness, and mechanical genius, of which his descendants may well be proud. We next turn to a career of a very different kind, that of the illustrious unfortunate Jacquard, whose life also illustrates in a remarkable mann influence which ingenious men, even of the humblest rank, may exerc upon the industry of a nation. Jacquard was the son of a hard-working couple of Lyons, his father being a weaver, and his mother a pattern r They were too poor to give him any but the most meagre education. W he was of age to learn a trade, his father placed him with a book-binde old clerk, who made up the master's accounts, gave Jacquard some les CHAPTER II 46 in mathematics. He very shortly began to display a remarkable turn fo mechanics, and some of his contrivances quite astonished the old cler who advised Jacquard's father to put him to some other trade, in whic peculiar abilities might have better scope than in bookbinding. He wa accordingly put apprentice to a cutler; but was so badly treated by his master, that he shortly afterwards left his employment, on which he w placed with a type-founder. His parents dying, Jacquard found himself in a measure compelled to to his father's two looms, and carry on the trade of a weaver. He immediately proceeded to improve the looms, and became so engross with his inventions that he forgot his work, and very soon found himse the end of his means. He then sold the looms to pay his debts, at the s time that he took upon himself the burden of supporting a wife. He be still poorer, and to satisfy his creditors, he next sold his cottage. He tr find employment, but in vain, people believing him to be an idler, occu with mere dreams about his inventions. At length he obtained employm with a line-maker of Bresse, whither he went, his wife remaining at Ly earning a precarious living by making straw bonnets. We hear nothing further of Jacquard for some years, but in the interva seems to have prosecuted his improvement in the drawloom for the be manufacture of figured fabrics; for, in 1790, he brought out his contriv for selecting the warp threads, which, when added to the loom, supers the services of a draw-boy. The adoption of this machine was slow but steady, and in ten years after its introduction, 4000 of them were foun work in Lyons. Jacquard's pursuits were rudely interrupted by the Revolution, and, in 1792, we find him fighting in the ranks of the Lyonnaise Volunteers against the Army of the Convention under the command of Dubois Crance. The city was taken; Jacquard fled and join the Army of the Rhine, where he rose to the rank of sergeant. He migh have remained a soldier, but that, his only son having been shot dead side, he deserted and returned to Lyons to recover his wife. He found a garret still employed at her old trade of straw-bonnet making. While living in concealment with her, his mind reverted to the inventions ove which he had so long brooded in former years; but he had no means CHAPTER II 47 wherewith to prosecute them. Jacquard found it necessary, however, t emerge from his hiding-place and try to find some employment. He succeeded in obtaining it with an intelligent manufacturer, and while working by day he went on inventing by night. It had occurred to him great improvements might still be introduced in looms for figured goo and he incidentally mentioned the subject one day to his master, regre at the same time that his limited means prevented him from carrying ideas. Happily his master appreciated the value of the suggestions, an laudable generosity placed a sum of money at his disposal, that he mig prosecute the proposed improvements at his leisure. In three months Jacquard had invented a loom to substitute mechanic action for the irksome and toilsome labour of the workman. The loom exhibited at the Exposition of National Industry at Paris in 1801, and obtained a bronze medal. Jacquard was further honoured by a visit at from the Minister Carnot, who desired to congratulate him in person o success of his invention. In the following year the Society of Arts in London offered a prize for the invention of a machine for manufacturin fishing-nets and boarding-netting for ships. Jacquard heard of this, an while walking one day in the fields according to his custom, he turned subject over in his mind, and contrived the plan of a machine for the purpose. His friend, the manufacturer, again furnished him with the m of carrying out his idea, and in three weeks Jacquard had completed h invention. Jacquard's achievement having come to the knowledge of the Prefect Department, he was summoned before that functionary, and, on his explanation of the working of the machine, a report on the subject wa forwarded to the Emperor. The inventor was forthwith summoned to P with his machine, and brought into the presence of the Emperor, who received him with the consideration due to his genius. The interview l two hours, during which Jacquard, placed at his ease by the Emperor' affability, explained to him the improvements which he proposed to m in the looms for weaving figured goods. The result was, that he was provided with apartments in the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers, wh he had the use of the workshop during his stay, and was provided with CHAPTER II 48 suitable allowance for his maintenance. Installed in the Conservatoire, Jacquard proceeded to complete the de of his improved loom. He had the advantage of minutely inspecting th various exquisite pieces of mechanism contained in that great treasur human ingenuity. Among the machines which more particularly attrac his attention, and eventually set him upon the track of his discovery, w loom for weaving flowered silk, made by Vaucanson the celebrated automaton-maker. Vaucanson was a man of the highest order of constructive genius. The inventive faculty was so strong in him that it may almost be said to ha amounted to a passion, and could not be restrained. The saying that th is born, not made, applies with equal force to the inventor, who, thoug indebted, like the other, to culture and improved opportunities, nevert contrives and constructs new combinations of machinery mainly to gr his own instinct. This was peculiarly the case with Vaucanson; for his elaborate works were not so much distinguished for their utility as for curious ingenuity which they displayed. While a mere boy attending Sunday conversations with his mother, he amused himself by watching through the chinks of a partition wall, part of the movements of a cloc the adjoining apartment. He endeavoured to understand them, and by brooding over the subject, after several months he discovered the prin of the escapement. From that time the subject of mechanical invention took complete possession of him. With some rude tools which he contrived, he made wooden clock that marked the hours with remarkable exactness; while made for a miniature chapel the figures of some angels which waved t wings, and some priests that made several ecclesiastical movements. the view of executing some other automata he had designed, he proce to study anatomy, music, and mechanics, which occupied him for seve years. The sight of the Flute-player in the Gardens of the Tuileries ins him with the resolution to invent a similar figure that should PLAY; an after several years' study and labour, though struggling with illness, h succeeded in accomplishing his object. He next produced a CHAPTER II 49 Flageolet-player, which was succeeded by a Duck--the most ingenious his contrivances,--which swam, dabbled, drank, and quacked like a rea duck. He next invented an asp, employed in the tragedy of 'Cleopatre, which hissed and darted at the bosom of the actress. Vaucanson, however, did not confine himself merely to the making of automata. By reason of his ingenuity, Cardinal de Fleury appointed him inspector of the silk manufactories of France; and he was no sooner in office, than with his usual irrepressible instinct to invent, he proceede introduce improvements in silk machinery. One of these was his mill fo thrown silk, which so excited the anger of the Lyons operatives, who f the loss of employment through its means, that they pelted him with s and had nearly killed him. He nevertheless went on inventing, and nex produced a machine for weaving flowered silks, with a contrivance for giving a dressing to the thread, so as to render that of each bobbin or of an equal thickness. When Vaucanson died in 1782, after a long illness, he bequeathed his collection of machines to the Queen, who seems to have set but small on them, and they were shortly after dispersed. But his machine for weaving flowered silks was happily preserved in the Conservatoire de et Metiers, and there Jacquard found it among the many curious and interesting articles in the collection. It proved of the utmost value to h for it immediately set him on the track of the principal modification w he introduced in his improved loom. One of the chief features of Vaucanson's machine was a pierced cylind which, according to the holes it presented when revolved, regulated th movement of certain needles, and caused the threads of the warp to d in such a manner as to produce a given design, though only of a simpl character. Jacquard seized upon the suggestion with avidity, and, with genius of the true inventor, at once proceeded to improve upon it. At t end of a month his weaving-machine was completed. To the cylinder o Vancanson, he added an endless piece of pasteboard pierced with a nu of holes, through which the threads of the warp were presented to the weaver; while another piece of mechanism indicated to the workman t CHAPTER II 50 colour of the shuttle which he ought to throw. Thus the drawboy and t reader of designs were both at once superseded. The first use Jacquar made of his new loom was to weave with it several yards of rich stuff which he presented to the Empress Josephine. Napoleon was highly gratified with the result of the inventor's labours, and ordered a numb the looms to be constructed by the best workmen, after Jacquard's mo and presented to him; after which he returned to Lyons. There he experienced the frequent fate of inventors. He was regarded townsmen as an enemy, and treated by them as Kay, Hargreaves, and Arkwright had been in Lancashire. The workmen looked upon the new loom as fatal to their trade, and feared lest it should at once take the b from their mouths. A tumultuous meeting was held on the Place des Terreaux, when it was determined to destroy the machines. This was however prevented by the military. But Jacquard was denounced and hanged in effigy. The 'Conseil des prud'hommes' in vain endeavoured allay the excitement, and they were themselves denounced. At length, carried away by the popular impulse, the prud'hommes, most of whom been workmen and sympathized with the class, had one of Jacquard's carried off and publicly broken in pieces. Riots followed, in one of whi Jacquard was dragged along the quay by an infuriated mob intending drown him, but he was rescued. The great value of the Jacquard loom, however, could not be denied, a success was only a question of time. Jacquard was urged by some Eng silk manufacturers to pass over into England and settle there. But notwithstanding the harsh and cruel treatment he had received at the of his townspeople, his patriotism was too strong to permit him to acc their offer. The English manufacturers, however, adopted his loom. Th was, and only then, that Lyons, threatened to be beaten out of the fiel adopted it with eagerness; and before long the Jacquard machine was employed in nearly all kinds of weaving. The result proved that the fea the workpeople had been entirely unfounded. Instead of diminishing employment, the Jacquard loom increased it at least tenfold. The num persons occupied in the manufacture of figured goods in Lyons, was s by M. Leon Faucher to have been 60,000 in 1833; and that number ha CHAPTER II 51 since been considerably increased. As for Jacquard himself, the rest of his life passed peacefully, exceptin that the workpeople who dragged him along the quay to drown him w shortly after found eager to bear him in triumph along the same route celebration of his birthday. But his modesty would not permit him to ta part in such a demonstration. The Municipal Council of Lyons propose him that he should devote himself to improving his machine for the be of the local industry, to which Jacquard agreed in consideration of a moderate pension, the amount of which was fixed by himself. After perfecting his invention accordingly, he retired at sixty to end his days Oullins, his father's native place. It was there that he received, in 182 decoration of the Legion of Honour; and it was there that he died and buried in 1834. A statue was erected to his memory, but his relatives remained in poverty; and twenty years after his death, his two nieces under the necessity of selling for a few hundred francs the gold medal bestowed upon their uncle by Louis XVIII. "Such," says a French write "was the gratitude of the manufacturing interests of Lyons to the man whom it owes so large a portion of its splendour." It would be easy to extend the martyrology of inventors, and to cite th names of other equally distinguished men who have, without any corresponding advantage to themselves, contributed to the industrial progress of the age,--for it has too often happened that genius has pla the tree, of which patient dulness has gathered the fruit; but we will c ourselves for the present to a brief account of an inventor of compara recent date, by way of illustration of the difficulties and privations wh is so frequently the lot of mechanical genius to surmount. We allude to Joshua Heilmann, the inventor of the Combing Machine. Heilmann was born in 1796 at Mulhouse, the principal seat of the Alsa cotton manufacture. His father was engaged in that business; and Josh entered his office at fifteen. He remained there for two years, employi spare time in mechanical drawing. He afterwards spent two years in h uncle's banking- house in Paris, prosecuting the study of mathematics evenings. Some of his relatives having established a small cotton- spin CHAPTER II 52 factory at Mulhouse, young Heilmann was placed with Messrs. Tissot Rey, at Paris, to learn the practice of that firm. At the same time he be a student at the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers, where he attended lectures, and studied the machines in the museum. He also took pract lessons in turning from a toymaker. After some time, thus diligently occupied, he returned to Alsace, to superintend the construction of th machinery for the new factory at Vieux-Thann, which was shortly finis and set to work. The operations of the manufactory were, however, seriously affected by a commercial crisis which occurred, and it passe other hands, on which Heilmann returned to his family at Mulhouse. He had in the mean time been occupying much of his leisure with inventions, more particularly in connection with the weaving of cotton the preparation of the staple for spinning. One of his earliest contrivan was an embroidering-machine, in which twenty needles were employe working simultaneously; and he succeeded in accomplishing his objec after about six months' labour. For this invention, which he exhibited a Exposition of 1834, he received a gold medal, and was decorated with Legion of Honour. Other inventions quickly followed--an improved loom machine for measuring and folding fabrics, an improvement of the "bo and fly frames" of the English spinners, and a weft winding-machine, w various improvements in the machinery for preparing, spinning, and weaving silk and cotton. One of his most ingenious contrivances was h loom for weaving simultaneously two pieces of velvet or other piled fa united by the pile common to both, with a knife and traversing appara for separating the two fabrics when woven. But by far the most beauti and ingenious of his inventions was the combing-machine, the history which we now proceed shortly to describe. Heilmann had for some years been diligently studying the contrivance machine for combing long-stapled cotton, the ordinary carding-machin being found ineffective in preparing the raw material for spinning, especially the finer sorts of yarn, besides causing considerable waste. avoid these imperfections, the cotton-spinners of Alsace offered a priz 5000 francs for an improved combing-machine, and Heilmann immedi proceeded to compete for the reward. He was not stimulated by the d CHAPTER II 53 of gain, for he was comparatively rich, having acquired a considerable fortune by his wife. It was a saying of his that "one will never accompl great things who is constantly asking himself, how much gain will this bring me?" What mainly impelled him was the irrepressible instinct of inventor, who no sooner has a mechanical problem set before him than feels impelled to undertake its solution. The problem in this case was, however, much more difficult than he had anticipated. The close study the subject occupied him for several years, and the expenses in which became involved in connection with it were so great, that his wife's fo was shortly swallowed up, and he was reduced to poverty, without bei able to bring his machine to perfection. From that time he was under necessity of relying mainly on the help of his friends to enable him to prosecute the invention. While still struggling with poverty and difficulties, Heilmann's wife die believing her husband ruined; and shortly after he proceeded to Engla and settled for a time at Manchester, still labouring at his machine. H a model made for him by the eminent machine-makers, Sharpe, Rober and Company; but still he could not make it work satisfactorily, and he at length brought almost to the verge of despair. He returned to Franc visit his family, still pursuing his idea, which had obtained complete possession of his mind. While sitting by his hearth one evening, medit upon the hard fate of inventors and the misfortunes in which their fam so often become involved, he found himself almost unconsciously watc his daughters coming their long hair and drawing it out at full length between their fingers. The thought suddenly struck him that if he cou successfully imitate in a machine the process of combing out the longe hair and forcing back the short by reversing the action of the comb, it serve to extricate him from his difficulty. It may be remembered that t incident in the life of Heilmann has been made the subject of a beauti picture by Mr. Elmore, R.A., which was exhibited at the Royal Academ Exhibition of 1862. Upon this idea he proceeded, introduced the apparently simple but re most intricate process of machine-combing, and after great labour he succeeded in perfecting the invention. The singular beauty of the proc CHAPTER II 54 can only be appreciated by those who have witnessed the machine at when the similarity of its movements to that of combing the hair, whic suggested the invention, is at once apparent. The machine has been described as "acting with almost the delicacy of touch of the human fingers." It combs the lock of cotton AT BOTH ENDS, places the fibres exactly parallel with each other, separates the long from the short, an unites the long fibres in one sliver and the short ones in another. In fin machine not only acts with the delicate accuracy of the human fingers apparently with the delicate intelligence of the human mind. The chief commercial value of the invention consisted in its rendering commoner sorts of cotton available for fine spinning. The manufacture were thereby enabled to select the most suitable fibres for high-priced fabrics, and to produce the finer sorts of yarn in much larger quantitie became possible by its means to make thread so fine that a length of 3 miles might be spun from a single pound weight of the prepared cotto and, worked up into the finer sorts of lace, the original shilling's worth cotton-wool, before it passed into the hands of the consumer, might th increased to the value of between 300l. and 400l. sterling. The beauty and utility of Heilmann's invention were at once appreciat the English cotton-spinners. Six Lancashire firms united and purchase patent for cotton-spinning for England for the sum of 30,000l; the wool-spinners paid the same sum for the privilege of applying the proc to wool; and the Messrs. Marshall, of Leeds, 20,000l. for the privilege applying it to flax. Thus wealth suddenly flowed in upon poor Heilman last. But he did not live to enjoy it. Scarcely had his long labours been crowned by success than he died, and his son, who had shared in his privations, shortly followed him. It is at the price of lives such as these that the wonders of civilisation achieved. CHAPTER III 55 CHAPTER III --THE GREAT POTTERS--PALISSY, BOTTGHER, WEDGWOOD "Patience is the finest and worthiest part of fortitude, and the rarest to Patience lies at the root of all pleasures, as well as of all powers. Hope herself ceases to be happiness when Impatience companions her."--Joh Ruskin. "Il y a vingt et cinq ans passez qu'il ne me fut monstre une coupe de te tournee et esmaillee d'une telle beaute que . . . deslors, sans avoir esg que je n'avois nulle connoissance des terres argileuses, je me mis a ch les emaux, comme un homme qui taste en tenebres."--Bernard Palissy. It so happens that the history of Pottery furnishes some of the most remarkable instances of patient perseverance to be found in the whole of biography. Of these we select three of the most striking, as exhibite the lives of Bernard Palissy, the Frenchman; Johann Friedrich Bottghe German; and Josiah Wedgwood, the Englishman. Though the art of making common vessels of clay was known to most the ancient nations, that of manufacturing enamelled earthenware wa less common. It was, however, practised by the ancient Etruscans, specimens of whose ware are still to be found in antiquarian collection But it became a lost art, and was only recovered at a comparatively re date. The Etruscan ware was very valuable in ancient times, a vase be worth its weight in gold in the time of Augustus. The Moors seem to h preserved amongst them a knowledge of the art, which they were foun practising in the island of Majorca when it was taken by the Pisans in Among the spoil carried away were many plates of Moorish earthenwa which, in token of triumph, were embedded in the walls of several of t ancient churches of Pisa, where they are to be seen to this day. About centuries later the Italians began to make an imitation enamelled war which they named Majolica, after the Moorish place of manufacture. CHAPTER III 56 The reviver or re-discoverer of the art of enamelling in Italy was Luca Robbia, a Florentine sculptor. Vasari describes him as a man of indefatigable perseverance, working with his chisel all day and practis drawing during the greater part of the night. He pursued the latter ar so much assiduity, that when working late, to prevent his feet from fre with the cold, he was accustomed to provide himself with a basket of shavings, in which he placed them to keep himself warm and enable h proceed with his drawings. "Nor," says Vasari, "am I in the least aston at this, since no man ever becomes distinguished in any art whatsoeve does not early begin to acquire the power of supporting heat, cold, hu thirst, and other discomforts; whereas those persons deceive themselv altogether who suppose that when taking their ease and surrounded b the enjoyments of the world they may still attain to honourable distinction,--for it is not by sleeping, but by waking, watching, and labouring continually, that proficiency is attained and reputation acqu But Luca, notwithstanding all his application and industry, did not suc in earning enough money by sculpture to enable him to live by the art the idea occurred to him that he might nevertheless be able to pursue modelling in some material more facile and less dear than marble. He was that he began to make his models in clay, and to endeavour by experiment so to coat and bake the clay as to render those models dur After many trials he at length discovered a method of covering the cla with a material, which, when exposed to the intense heat of a furnace became converted into an almost imperishable enamel. He afterwards the further discovery of a method of imparting colour to the enamel, t greatly adding to its beauty. The fame of Luca's work extended throughout Europe, and specimens of his art became widely diffused. Many of them were sent into France and Spain, where they were greatly prized. At that time coarse brown jars an pipkins were almost the only articles of earthenware produced in France and this continued to be the case, with comparatively small improvemen until the time of Palissy--a man who toiled and fought against stupendous difficulties with a heroism that sheds a glow almost of romance over the events of his chequered life. CHAPTER III 57 Bernard Palissy is supposed to have been born in the south of France, diocese of Agen, about the year 1510. His father was probably a work glass, to which trade Bernard was brought up. His parents were poor people--too poor to give him the benefit of any school education. "I ha other books," said he afterwards, "than heaven and earth, which are o all." He learnt, however, the art of glass-painting, to which he added t drawing, and afterwards reading and writing. When about eighteen years old, the glass trade becoming decayed, Pa left his father's house, with his wallet on his back, and went out into th world to search whether there was any place in it for him. He first tra towards Gascony, working at his trade where he could find employmen and occasionally occupying part of his time in land-measuring. Then h travelled northwards, sojourning for various periods at different place France, Flanders, and Lower Germany. Thus Palissy occupied about ten more years of his life, after which he married, and ceased from his wanderings, settling down to practise glass-painting and land-measuring at the small town of Saintes, in the Lower Charente. There children were born to him; and not only his responsibilities but his expenses increased, while, do what he could, h earnings remained too small for his needs. It was therefore necessary him to bestir himself. Probably he felt capable of better things than drudging in an employment so precarious as glass-painting; and hence was induced to turn his attention to the kindred art of painting and enamelling earthenware. Yet on this subject he was wholly ignorant; f had never seen earth baked before he began his operations. He had therefore everything to learn by himself, without any helper. But he w full of hope, eager to learn, of unbounded perseverance and inexhaust patience. It was the sight of an elegant cup of Italian manufacture--most probab one of Luca della Robbia's make--which first set Palissy a-thinking abo the new art. A circumstance so apparently insignificant would have produced no effect upon an ordinary mind, or even upon Palissy himse an ordinary time; but occurring as it did when he was meditating a ch CHAPTER III 58 of calling, he at once became inflamed with the desire of imitating it. T sight of this cup disturbed his whole existence; and the determination discover the enamel with which it was glazed thenceforward possesse like a passion. Had he been a single man he might have travelled into in search of the secret; but he was bound to his wife and his children, could not leave them; so he remained by their side groping in the dark the hope of finding out the process of making and enamelling earthen At first he could merely guess the materials of which the enamel was composed; and he proceeded to try all manner of experiments to asce what they really were. He pounded all the substances which he suppo were likely to produce it. Then he bought common earthen pots, broke them into pieces, and, spreading his compounds over them, subjected to the heat of a furnace which he erected for the purpose of baking th His experiments failed; and the results were broken pots and a waste fuel, drugs, time, and labour. Women do not readily sympathise with experiments whose only tangible effect is to dissipate the means of bu clothes and food for their children; and Palissy's wife, however dutiful other respects, could not be reconciled to the purchase of more earthe which seemed to her to be bought only to be broken. Yet she must nee submit; for Palissy had become thoroughly possessed by the determin to master the secret of the enamel, and would not leave it alone. For many successive months and years Palissy pursued his experimen The first furnace having proved a failure, he proceeded to erect anoth of doors. There he burnt more wood, spoiled more drugs and pots, and more time, until poverty stared him and his family in the face. "Thus," he, "I fooled away several years, with sorrow and sighs, because I cou at all arrive at my intention." In the intervals of his experiments he occasionally worked at his former callings, painting on glass, drawing portraits, and measuring land; but his earnings from these sources we very small. At length he was no longer able to carry on his experiment his own furnace because of the heavy cost of fuel; but he bought more potsherds, broke them up as before into three or four hundred pieces, covering them with chemicals, carried them to a tile-work a league an half distant from Saintes, there to be baked in an ordinary furnace. Af CHAPTER III 59 operation he went to see the pieces taken out; and, to his dismay, the of the experiments were failures. But though disappointed, he was not defeated; for he determined on the very spot to "begin afresh." His business as a land-measurer called him away for a brief season fro pursuit of his experiments. In conformity with an edict of the State, it became necessary to survey the salt-marshes in the neighbourhood of Saintes for the purpose of levying the land-tax. Palissy was employed make this survey, and prepare the requisite map. The work occupied h some time, and he was doubtless well paid for it; but no sooner was it completed than he proceeded, with redoubled zeal, to follow up his ol investigations "in the track of the enamels." He began by breaking thr dozen new earthen pots, the pieces of which he covered with different materials which he had compounded, and then took them to a neighbo glass- furnace to be baked. The results gave him a glimmer of hope. T greater heat of the glass-furnace had melted some of the compounds; though Palissy searched diligently for the white enamel he could find For two more years he went on experimenting without any satisfactor result, until the proceeds of his survey of the salt- marshes having bec nearly spent, he was reduced to poverty again. But he resolved to mak last great effort; and he began by breaking more pots than ever. More three hundred pieces of pottery covered with his compounds were sen the glass-furnace; and thither he himself went to watch the results of baking. Four hours passed, during which he watched; and then the fur was opened. The material on ONE only of the three hundred pieces of potsherd had melted, and it was taken out to cool. As it hardened, it g white-white and polished! The piece of potsherd was covered with wh enamel, described by Palissy as "singularly beautiful!" And beautiful it must no doubt have been in his eyes after all his weary waiting. He ra home with it to his wife, feeling himself, as he expressed it, quite a ne creature. But the prize was not yet won--far from it. The partial succes this intended last effort merely had the effect of luring him on to a succession of further experiments and failures. CHAPTER III 60 In order that he might complete the invention, which he now believed at hand, he resolved to build for himself a glass- furnace near his dwe where he might carry on his operations in secret. He proceeded to bu furnace with his own hands, carrying the bricks from the brick-field up his back. He was bricklayer, labourer, and all. From seven to eight mo months passed. At last the furnace was built and ready for use. Palissy in the mean time fashioned a number of vessels of clay in readiness fo laying on of the enamel. After being subjected to a preliminary proces baking, they were covered with the enamel compound, and again plac the furnace for the grand crucial experiment. Although his means wer nearly exhausted, Palissy had been for some time accumulating a grea store of fuel for the final effort; and he thought it was enough. At last fire was lit, and the operation proceeded. All day he sat by the furnace feeding it with fuel. He sat there watching and feeding all through the night. But the enamel did not melt. The sun rose upon his labours. His brought him a portion of the scanty morning meal,--for he would not s from the furnace, into which he continued from time to time to heave fuel. The second day passed, and still the enamel did not melt. The sun and another night passed. The pale, haggard, unshorn, baffled yet not beaten Palissy sat by his furnace eagerly looking for the melting of the enamel. A third day and night passed--a fourth, a fifth, and even a sixth,--yes, for six long days and nights did the unconquerable Palissy watch and toil, fighting against hope; and still the enamel would not m It then occurred to him that there might be some defect in the materia the enamel--perhaps something wanting in the flux; so he set to work pound and compound fresh materials for a new experiment. Thus two three more weeks passed. But how to buy more pots?--for those which had made with his own hands for the purposes of the first experiment by long baking irretrievably spoilt for the purposes of a second. His m was now all spent; but he could borrow. His character was still good, though his wife and the neighbours thought him foolishly wasting his means in futile experiments. Nevertheless he succeeded. He borrowed sufficient from a friend to enable him to buy more fuel and more pots, he was again ready for a further experiment. The pots were covered w the new compound, placed in the furnace, and the fire was again lit. CHAPTER III 61 It was the last and most desperate experiment of the whole. The fire b up; the heat became intense; but still the enamel did not melt. The fue began to run short! How to keep up the fire? There were the garden p these would burn. They must be sacrificed rather than that the great experiment should fail. The garden palings were pulled up and cast in furnace. They were burnt in vain! The enamel had not yet melted. Ten minutes more heat might do it. Fuel must be had at whatever cost. Th remained the household furniture and shelving. A crashing noise was in the house; and amidst the screams of his wife and children, who no feared Palissy's reason was giving way, the tables were seized, broken and heaved into the furnace. The enamel had not melted yet! There remained the shelving. Another noise of the wrenching of timber was within the house; and the shelves were torn down and hurled after the furniture into the fire. Wife and children then rushed from the house, went frantically through the town, calling out that poor Palissy had go mad, and was breaking up his very furniture for firewood! {10} For an entire month his shirt had not been off his back, and he was ut worn out--wasted with toil, anxiety, watching, and want of food. He wa debt, and seemed on the verge of ruin. But he had at length mastered secret; for the last great burst of heat had melted the enamel. The com brown household jars, when taken out of the furnace after it had beco cool, were found covered with a white glaze! For this he could endure reproach, contumely, and scorn, and wait patiently for the opportunity putting his discovery into practice as better days came round. Palissy next hired a potter to make some earthen vessels after designs which he furnished; while he himself proceeded to model some medal in clay for the purpose of enamelling them. But how to maintain himse and his family until the wares were made and ready for sale? Fortunat there remained one man in Saintes who still believed in the integrity, in the judgment, of Palissy--an inn-keeper, who agreed to feed and lod him for six months, while he went on with his manufacture. As for the working potter whom he had hired, Palissy soon found that he could n pay him the stipulated wages. Having already stripped his dwelling, h could but strip himself; and he accordingly parted with some of his clo CHAPTER III 62 to the potter, in part payment of the wages which he owed him. Palissy next erected an improved furnace, but he was so unfortunate a build part of the inside with flints. When it was heated, these flints cra and burst, and the spiculae were scattered over the pieces of pottery, sticking to them. Though the enamel came out right, the work was irretrievably spoilt, and thus six more months' labour was lost. Person were found willing to buy the articles at a low price, notwithstanding injury they had sustained; but Palissy would not sell them, considering to have done so would be to "decry and abate his honour;" and so he b in pieces the entire batch. "Nevertheless," says he, "hope continued to inspire me, and I held on manfully; sometimes, when visitors called, I entertained them with pleasantry, while I was really sad at heart . . . . of all the sufferings I had to endure, were the mockeries and persecut those of my own household, who were so unreasonable as to expect m execute work without the means of doing so. For years my furnaces w without any covering or protection, and while attending them I have b for nights at the mercy of the wind and the rain, without help or consolation, save it might be the wailing of cats on the one side and th howling of dogs on the other. Sometimes the tempest would beat so furiously against the furnaces that I was compelled to leave them and shelter within doors. Drenched by rain, and in no better plight than if been dragged through mire, I have gone to lie down at midnight or at daybreak, stumbling into the house without a light, and reeling from o side to another as if I had been drunken, but really weary with watchi filled with sorrow at the loss of my labour after such long toiling. But my home proved no refuge; for, drenched and besmeared as I was, I fo in my chamber a second persecution worse than the first, which make even now marvel that I was not utterly consumed by my many sorrows At this stage of his affairs, Palissy became melancholy and almost hop and seems to have all but broken down. He wandered gloomily about fields near Saintes, his clothes hanging in tatters, and himself worn to skeleton. In a curious passage in his writings he describes how that th calves of his legs had disappeared and were no longer able with the h garters to hold up his stockings, which fell about his heels when he wa CHAPTER III 63 {11} The family continued to reproach him for his recklessness, and h neighbours cried shame upon him for his obstinate folly. So he returne a time to his former calling; and after about a year's diligent labour, d which he earned bread for his household and somewhat recovered his character among his neighbours, he again resumed his darling enterp But though he had already spent about ten years in the search for the enamel, it cost him nearly eight more years of experimental plodding before he perfected his invention. He gradually learnt dexterity and certainty of result by experience, gathering practical knowledge out o many failures. Every mishap was a fresh lesson to him, teaching him something new about the nature of enamels, the qualities of argillaceo earths, the tempering of clays, and the construction and management furnaces. At last, after about sixteen years' labour, Palissy took heart and called himself Potter. These sixteen years had been his term of apprenticeshi the art; during which he had wholly to teach himself, beginning at the beginning. He was now able to sell his wares and thereby maintain his family in comfort. But he never rested satisfied with what he had accomplished. He proceeded from one step of improvement to anothe always aiming at the greatest perfection possible. He studied natural for patterns, and with such success that the great Buffon spoke of him "so great a naturalist as Nature only can produce." His ornamental pie are now regarded as rare gems in the cabinets of virtuosi, and sell at fabulous prices. {12} The ornaments on them are for the most part ac models from life, of wild animals, lizards, and plants, found in the field about Saintes, and tastefully combined as ornaments into the texture plate or vase. When Palissy had reached the height of his art he styled himself "Ouvrier de Terre et Inventeur des Rustics Figulines." We have not, however, come to an end of the sufferings of Palissy, respecting which a few words remain to be said. Being a Protestant, a time when religious persecution waxed hot in the south of France, and expressing his views without fear, he was regarded as a dangerous he His enemies having informed against him, his house at Saintes was en by the officers of "justice," and his workshop was thrown open to the CHAPTER III 64 rabble, who entered and smashed his pottery, while he himself was hu off by night and cast into a dungeon at Bordeaux, to wait his turn at th stake or the scaffold. He was condemned to be burnt; but a powerful n the Constable de Montmorency, interposed to save his life--not becaus had any special regard for Palissy or his religion, but because no othe could be found capable of executing the enamelled pavement for his magnificent chateau then in course of erection at Ecouen, about four leagues from Paris. By his influence an edict was issued appointing Pa Inventor of Rustic Figulines to the King and to the Constable, which h the effect of immediately removing him from the jurisdiction of Bourd He was accordingly liberated, and returned to his home at Saintes onl find it devastated and broken up. His workshop was open to the sky, a his works lay in ruins. Shaking the dust of Saintes from his feet he left place never to return to it, and removed to Paris to carry on the works ordered of him by the Constable and the Queen Mother, being lodged Tuileries {13} while so occupied. Besides carrying on the manufacture of pottery, with the aid of his two sons, Palissy, during the latter part of his life, wrote and published sev books on the potter's art, with a view to the instruction of his countrym and in order that they might avoid the many mistakes which he himse made. He also wrote on agriculture, on fortification, and natural histo which latter subject he even delivered lectures to a limited number of persons. He waged war against astrology, alchemy, witchcraft, and lik impostures. This stirred up against him many enemies, who pointed th finger at him as a heretic, and he was again arrested for his religion a imprisoned in the Bastille. He was now an old man of seventy-eight, trembling on the verge of the grave, but his spirit was as brave as eve was threatened with death unless he recanted; but he was as obstinat holding to his religion as he had been in hunting out the secret of the enamel. The king, Henry III., even went to see him in prison to induce to abjure his faith. "My good man," said the King, "you have now serve my mother and myself for forty-five years. We have put up with your adhering to your religion amidst fires and massacres: now I am so pre by the Guise party as well as by my own people, that I am constrained leave you in the hands of your enemies, and to- morrow you will be bu CHAPTER III 65 unless you become converted." "Sire," answered the unconquerable o man, "I am ready to give my life for the glory of God. You have said ma times that you have pity on me; and now I have pity on you, who have I AM CONSTRAINED! It is not spoken like a king, pronounced the words sire; it is what you, and those who constrain you, the Guisards and all people, can never effect upon me, for I know how to die." {14} Palissy indeed die shortly after, a martyr, though not at the stake. He died in t Bastille, after enduring about a year's imprisonment,-- there peacefull terminating a life distinguished for heroic labour, extraordinary endur inflexible rectitude, and the exhibition of many rare and noble virtues. The life of John Frederick Bottgher, the inventor of hard porcelain, pre a remarkable contrast to that of Palissy; though it also contains many of singular and almost romantic interest. Bottgher was born at Schleiz the Voightland, in 1685, and at twelve years of age was placed appren with an apothecary at Berlin. He seems to have been early fascinated chemistry, and occupied most of his leisure in making experiments. Th for the most part tended in one direction--the art of converting commo metals into gold. At the end of several years, Bottgher pretended to ha discovered the universal solvent of the alchemists, and professed that had made gold by its means. He exhibited its powers before his maste apothecary Zorn, and by some trick or other succeeded in making him several other witnesses believe that he had actually converted copper gold. The news spread abroad that the apothecary's apprentice had discove grand secret, and crowds collected about the shop to get a sight of the wonderful young "gold-cook." The king himself expressed a wish to se and converse with him, and when Frederick I. was presented with a p the gold pretended to have been converted from copper, he was so da with the prospect of securing an infinite quantity of it--Prussia being t great straits for money--that he determined to secure Bottgher and em him to make gold for him within the strong fortress of Spandau. But th young apothecary, suspecting the king's intention, and probably fearin detection, at once resolved on flight, and he succeeded in getting acro frontier into Saxony. CHAPTER III 66 A reward of a thousand thalers was offered for Bottgher's apprehensio in vain. He arrived at Wittenberg, and appealed for protection to the E of Saxony, Frederick Augustus I. (King of Poland), surnamed "the Stro Frederick was himself very much in want of money at the time, and he overjoyed at the prospect of obtaining gold in any quantity by the aid young alchemist. Bottgher was accordingly conveyed in secret to Dres accompanied by a royal escort. He had scarcely left Wittenberg when battalion of Prussian grenadiers appeared before the gates demanding gold-maker's extradition. But it was too late: Bottgher had already arr in Dresden, where he was lodged in the Golden House, and treated wi every consideration, though strictly watched and kept under guard. The Elector, however, must needs leave him there for a time, having to depart forthwith to Poland, then almost in a state of anarchy. But, imp for gold, he wrote Bottgher from Warsaw, urging him to communicate secret, so that he himself might practise the art of commutation. The y "gold-cook," thus pressed, forwarded to Frederick a small phial contai "a reddish fluid," which, it was asserted, changed all metals, when in a molten state, into gold. This important phial was taken in charge by th Prince Furst von Furstenburg, who, accompanied by a regiment of Gu hurried with it to Warsaw. Arrived there, it was determined to make immediate trial of the process. The King and the Prince locked themse up in a secret chamber of the palace, girt themselves about with leath aprons, and like true "gold-cooks" set to work melting copper in a cru and afterwards applying to it the red fluid of Bottgher. But the result w unsatisfactory; for notwithstanding all that they could do, the copper obstinately remained copper. On referring to the alchemist's instructio however, the King found that, to succeed with the process, it was nece that the fluid should be used "in great purity of heart;" and as his Maj was conscious of having spent the evening in very bad company he attributed the failure of the experiment to that cause. A second trial w followed by no better results, and then the King became furious; for h confessed and received absolution before beginning the second exper Frederick Augustus now resolved on forcing Bottgher to disclose the golden secret, as the only means of relief from his urgent pecuniary CHAPTER III 67 difficulties. The alchemist, hearing of the royal intention, again determ to fly. He succeeded in escaping his guard, and, after three days' trave arrived at Ens in Austria, where he thought himself safe. The agents o Elector were, however, at his heels; they had tracked him to the "Gold Stag," which they surrounded, and seizing him in his bed, notwithstan his resistance and appeals to the Austrian authorities for help, they ca him by force to Dresden. From this time he was more strictly watched ever, and he was shortly after transferred to the strong fortress of Koningstein. It was communicated to him that the royal exchequer wa completely empty, and that ten regiments of Poles in arrears of pay we waiting for his gold. The King himself visited him, and told him in a se tone that if he did not at once proceed to make gold, he would be hun ("Thu mir zurecht, Bottgher, sonst lass ich dich hangen"). Years passed, and still Bottgher made no gold; but he was not hung. It reserved for him to make a far more important discovery than the conversion of copper into gold, namely, the conversion of clay into porcelain. Some rare specimens of this ware had been brought by the Portuguese from China, which were sold for more than their weight in Bottgher was first induced to turn his attention to the subject by Walte Tschirnhaus, a maker of optical instruments, also an alchemist. Tschir was a man of education and distinction, and was held in much esteem Prince Furstenburg as well as by the Elector. He very sensibly said to Bottgher, still in fear of the gallows--"If you can't make gold, try and d something else; make porcelain." The alchemist acted on the hint, and began his experiments, working and day. He prosecuted his investigations for a long time with great assiduity, but without success. At length some red clay, brought to him the purpose of making his crucibles, set him on the right track. He fou that this clay, when submitted to a high temperature, became vitrified retained its shape; and that its texture resembled that of porcelain, excepting in colour and opacity. He had in fact accidentally discovered porcelain, and he proceeded to manufacture it and sell it as porcelain CHAPTER III 68 Bottgher was, however, well aware that the white colour was an essen property of true porcelain; and he therefore prosecuted his experimen the hope of discovering the secret. Several years thus passed, but with success; until again accident stood his friend, and helped him to a knowledge of the art of making white porcelain. One day, in the year 1 he found his perruque unusually heavy, and asked of his valet the reas The answer was, that it was owing to the powder with which the wig w dressed, which consisted of a kind of earth then much used for hair po Bottgher's quick imagination immediately seized upon the idea. This w earthy powder might possibly be the very earth of which he was in search--at all events the opportunity must not be let slip of ascertainin what it really was. He was rewarded for his painstaking care and watchfulness; for he found, on experiment, that the principal ingredie the hair-powder consisted of kaolin, the want of which had so long for an insuperable difficulty in the way of his inquiries. The discovery, in Bottgher's intelligent hands, led to great results, and proved of far greater importance than the discovery of the philosophe stone would have been. In October, 1707, he presented his first piece porcelain to the Elector, who was greatly pleased with it; and it was resolved that Bottgher should be furnished with the means necessary perfecting his invention. Having obtained a skilled workman from Del began to TURN porcelain with great success. He now entirely abando alchemy for pottery, and inscribed over the door of his workshop this distich:"Es machte Gott, der grosse Schopfer, Aus einem Goldmacher einen Topfer." {16} Bottgher, however, was still under strict surveillance, for fear lest he s communicate his secret to others or escape the Elector's control. The workshops and furnaces which were erected for him, were guarded by troops night and day, and six superior officers were made responsible the personal security of the potter. CHAPTER III 69 Bottgher's further experiments with his new furnaces proving very successful, and the porcelain which he manufactured being found to f large prices, it was next determined to establish a Royal Manufactory porcelain. The manufacture of delft ware was known to have greatly enriched Holland. Why should not the manufacture of porcelain equal enrich the Elector? Accordingly, a decree went forth, dated the 23rd o January, 1710, for the establishment of "a large manufactory of porcel at the Albrechtsburg in Meissen. In this decree, which was translated Latin, French, and Dutch, and distributed by the Ambassadors of the Elector at all the European Courts, Frederick Augustus set forth that promote the welfare of Saxony, which had suffered much through the Swedish invasion, he had "directed his attention to the subterranean treasures (unterirdischen Schatze)" of the country, and having employ some able persons in the investigation, they had succeeded in manufacturing "a sort of red vessels (eine Art rother Gefasse) far supe to the Indian terra sigillata;" {17} as also "coloured ware and plates ( Geschirr und Tafeln) which may be cut, ground, and polished, and are equal to Indian vessels," and finally that "specimens of white porcelain (Proben von weissem Porzellan)" had already been obtained, and it wa hoped that this quality, too, would soon be manufactured in considera quantities. The royal decree concluded by inviting "foreign artists and handicraftmen" to come to Saxony and engage as assistants in the new factory, at high wages, and under the patronage of the King. This roya edict probably gives the best account of the actual state of Bottgher's invention at the time. It has been stated in German publications that Bottgher, for the great services rendered by him to the Elector and to Saxony, was made Man of the Royal Porcelain Works, and further promoted to the dignity of Baron. Doubtless he deserved these honours; but his treatment was of altogether different character, for it was shabby, cruel, and inhuman. T royal officials, named Matthieu and Nehmitz, were put over his head a directors of the factory, while he himself only held the position of fore of potters, and at the same time was detained the King's prisoner. Dur the erection of the factory at Meissen, while his assistance was still indispensable, he was conducted by soldiers to and from Dresden; and CHAPTER III 70 after the works were finished, he was locked up nightly in his room. A this preyed upon his mind, and in repeated letters to the King he soug obtain mitigation of his fate. Some of these letters are very touching. " devote my whole soul to the art of making porcelain," he writes on one occasion, "I will do more than any inventor ever did before; only give m liberty, liberty!" To these appeals, the King turned a deaf ear. He was ready to spend m and grant favours; but liberty he would not give. He regarded Bottghe his slave. In this position, the persecuted man kept on working for som time, till, at the end of a year or two, he grew negligent. Disgusted wi world and with himself, he took to drinking. Such is the force of exam that it no sooner became known that Bottgher had betaken himself to vice, than the greater number of the workmen at the Meissen factory became drunkards too. Quarrels and fightings without end were the consequence, so that the troops were frequently called upon to interfe keep peace among the "Porzellanern," as they were nicknamed. After while, the whole of them, more than three hundred, were shut up in th Albrechtsburg, and treated as prisoners of state. Bottgher at last fell seriously ill, and in May, 1713, his dissolution was hourly expected. The King, alarmed at losing so valuable a slave, now him permission to take carriage exercise under a guard; and, having somewhat recovered, he was allowed occasionally to go to Dresden. In letter written by the King in April, 1714, Bottgher was promised his fu liberty; but the offer came too late. Broken in body and mind, alternat working and drinking, though with occasional gleams of nobler intent and suffering under constant ill-health, the result of his enforced confinement, Bottgher lingered on for a few years more, until death fr him from his sufferings on the 13th March, 1719, in the thirty-fifth yea his age. He was buried AT NIGHT--as if he had been a dog--in the Johannis Cemetery of Meissen. Such was the treatment and such the unhappy end, of one of Saxony's greatest benefactors. The porcelain manufacture immediately opened up an important sour public revenue, and it became so productive to the Elector of Saxony, CHAPTER III 71 his example was shortly after followed by most European monarchs. Although soft porcelain had been made at St. Cloud fourteen years be Bottgher's discovery, the superiority of the hard porcelain soon becam generally recognised. Its manufacture was begun at Sevres in 1770, a has since almost entirely superseded the softer material. This is now o the most thriving branches of French industry, of which the high quali the articles produced is certainly indisputable. The career of Josiah Wedgwood, the English potter, was less chequere more prosperous than that of either Palissy or Bottgher, and his lot wa in happier times. Down to the middle of last century England was beh most other nations of the first order in Europe in respect of skilled ind Although there were many potters in Staffordshire--and Wedgwood hi belonged to a numerous clan of potters of the same name--their produ were of the rudest kind, for the most part only plain brown ware, with patterns scratched in while the clay was wet. The principal supply of t better articles of earthenware came from Delft in Holland, and of drin stone pots from Cologne. Two foreign potters, the brothers Elers from Nuremberg, settled for a time in Staffordshire, and introduced an imp manufacture, but they shortly after removed to Chelsea, where they confined themselves to the manufacture of ornamental pieces. No por capable of resisting a scratch with a hard point had yet been made in England; and for a long time the "white ware" made in Staffordshire w not white, but of a dirty cream colour. Such, in a few words, was the condition of the pottery manufacture when Josiah Wedgwood was born Burslem in 1730. By the time that he died, sixty-four years later, it had become completely changed. By his energy, skill, and genius, he established the trade upon a new and solid foundation; and, in the wo his epitaph, "converted a rude and inconsiderable manufacture into an elegant art and an important branch of national commerce." Josiah Wedgwood was one of those indefatigable men who from time to time spring from the ranks of the common people, and by their energetic character not only practically educate the working population in habits o industry, but by the example of diligence and perseverance which they se before them, largely influence the public activity in all directions, and CHAPTER III 72 contribute in a great degree to form the national character. He was, li Arkwright, the youngest of a family of thirteen children. His grandfath and granduncle were both potters, as was also his father who died wh was a mere boy, leaving him a patrimony of twenty pounds. He had lea to read and write at the village school; but on the death of his father h taken from it and set to work as a "thrower" in a small pottery carried his elder brother. There he began life, his working life, to use his own words, "at the lowest round of the ladder," when only eleven years old was shortly after seized by an attack of virulent smallpox, from the eff of which he suffered during the rest of his life, for it was followed by a disease in the right knee, which recurred at frequent intervals, and w got rid of by the amputation of the limb many years later. Mr. Gladston his eloquent Eloge on Wedgwood recently delivered at Burslem, well observed that the disease from which he suffered was not improbably occasion of his subsequent excellence. "It prevented him from growin to be the active, vigorous English workman, possessed of all his limbs knowing right well the use of them; but it put him upon considering whether, as he could not be that, he might not be something else, and something greater. It sent his mind inwards; it drove him to meditate the laws and secrets of his art. The result was, that he arrived at a perception and a grasp of them which might, perhaps, have been envi certainly have been owned, by an Athenian potter." {18} When he had completed his apprenticeship with his brother, Josiah joi partnership with another workman, and carried on a small business in making knife-hafts, boxes, and sundry articles for domestic use. Anoth partnership followed, when he proceeded to make melon table plates, pickle leaves, candlesticks, snuffboxes, and such like articles; but he m comparatively little progress until he began business on his own accou Burslem in the year 1759. There he diligently pursued his calling, introducing new articles to the trade, and gradually extending his bus What he chiefly aimed at was to manufacture cream- coloured ware of better quality than was then produced in Staffordshire as regarded sh colour, glaze, and durability. To understand the subject thoroughly, he devoted his leisure to the study of chemistry; and he made numerous experiments on fluxes, glazes, and various sorts of clay. Being a close CHAPTER III 73 inquirer and accurate observer, he noticed that a certain earth contain silica, which was black before calcination, became white after exposur the heat of a furnace. This fact, observed and pondered on, led to the mixing silica with the red powder of the potteries, and to the discover the mixture becomes white when calcined. He had but to cover this m with a vitrification of transparent glaze, to obtain one of the most imp products of fictile art--that which, under the name of English earthenw was to attain the greatest commercial value and become of the most extensive utility. Wedgwood was for some time much troubled by his furnaces, though nothing like to the same extent that Palissy was; and he overcame his difficulties in the same way--by repeated experiments and unfaltering perseverance. His first attempts at making porcelain for table use was succession of disastrous failures,--the labours of months being often destroyed in a day. It was only after a long series of trials, in the cours which he lost time, money, and labour, that he arrived at the proper so glaze to be used; but he would not be denied, and at last he conquered success through patience. The improvement of pottery became his pas and was never lost sight of for a moment. Even when he had mastered difficulties, and become a prosperous man--manufacturing white stone ware and cream-coloured ware in large quantities for home and foreig use--he went forward perfecting his manufactures, until, his example extending in all directions, the action of the entire district was stimula and a great branch of British industry was eventually established on fi foundations. He aimed throughout at the highest excellence, declaring determination "to give over manufacturing any article, whatsoever it m be, rather than to degrade it." Wedgwood was cordially helped by many persons of rank and influenc for, working in the truest spirit, he readily commanded the help and encouragement of other true workers. He made for Queen Charlotte t royal table-service of English manufacture, of the kind afterwards call "Queen's-ware," and was appointed Royal Potter; a title which he prize more than if he had been made a baron. Valuable sets of porcelain we entrusted to him for imitation, in which he succeeded to admiration. S CHAPTER III 74 William Hamilton lent him specimens of ancient art from Herculaneum which he produced accurate and beautiful copies. The Duchess of Por outbid him for the Barberini Vase when that article was offered for sal bid as high as seventeen hundred guineas for it: her grace secured it f eighteen hundred; but when she learnt Wedgwood's object she at once generously lent him the vase to copy. He produced fifty copies at a cos about 2500l., and his expenses were not covered by their sale; but he his object, which was to show that whatever had been done, that Engl skill and energy could and would accomplish. Wedgwood called to his aid the crucible of the chemist, the knowledge the antiquary, and the skill of the artist. He found out Flaxman when a youth, and while he liberally nurtured his genius drew from him a larg number of beautiful designs for his pottery and porcelain; converting by his manufacture into objects of taste and excellence, and thus mak them instrumental in the diffusion of classical art amongst the people. careful experiment and study he was even enabled to rediscover the a painting on porcelain or earthenware vases and similar articles--an ar practised by the ancient Etruscans, but which had been lost since the of Pliny. He distinguished himself by his own contributions to science, his name is still identified with the Pyrometer which he invented. He w an indefatigable supporter of all measures of public utility; and the construction of the Trent and Mersey Canal, which completed the nav communication between the eastern and western sides of the island, w mainly due to his public-spirited exertions, allied to the engineering sk Brindley. The road accommodation of the district being of an execrabl character, he planned and executed a turnpike-road through the Potte ten miles in length. The reputation he achieved was such that his work Burslem, and subsequently those at Etruria, which he founded and bu became a point of attraction to distinguished visitors from all parts of Europe. The result of Wedgwood's labours was, that the manufacture of potter which he found in the very lowest condition, became one of the staple England; and instead of importing what we needed for home use from abroad, we became large exporters to other countries, supplying them CHAPTER III 75 earthenware even in the face of enormous prohibitory duties on articl British produce. Wedgwood gave evidence as to his manufactures befo Parliament in 1785, only some thirty years after he had begun his operations; from which it appeared, that instead of providing only cas employment to a small number of inefficient and badly remunerated workmen, about 20,000 persons then derived their bread directly from manufacture of earthenware, without taking into account the increase numbers to which it gave employment in coal-mines, and in the carryi trade by land and sea, and the stimulus which it gave to employment i many ways in various parts of the country. Yet, important as had been advances made in his time, Mr. Wedgwood was of opinion that the manufacture was but in its infancy, and that the improvements which had effected were of but small amount compared with those to which art was capable of attaining, through the continued industry and grow intelligence of the manufacturers, and the natural facilities and politic advantages enjoyed by Great Britain; an opinion which has been fully borne out by the progress which has since been effected in this impor branch of industry. In 1852 not fewer than 84,000,000 pieces of potter were exported from England to other countries, besides what were ma home use. But it is not merely the quantity and value of the produce th entitled to consideration, but the improvement of the condition of the population by whom this great branch of industry is conducted. When Wedgwood began his labours, the Staffordshire district was only in a half-civilized state. The people were poor, uncultivated, and few in num When Wedgwood's manufacture was firmly established, there was fou ample employment at good wages for three times the number of popu while their moral advancement had kept pace with their material improvement. Men such as these are fairly entitled to take rank as the Industrial He the civilized world. Their patient self- reliance amidst trials and difficu their courage and perseverance in the pursuit of worthy objects, are n heroic of their kind than the bravery and devotion of the soldier and th sailor, whose duty and pride it is heroically to defend what these valia leaders of industry have so heroically achieved. CHAPTER IV 76 CHAPTER IV --APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE "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 labour, gather all."--D'Avenant. "Allez en avant, et la foi vous viendra!"--D'Alembert. The greatest results in life are usually attained by simple means, and exercise of ordinary qualities. The common life of every day, with its c necessities, and duties, affords ample opportunity for acquiring exper of the best kind; and its most beaten paths provide the true worker wi abundant scope for effort and room for self-improvement. The road of human welfare lies along the old highway of steadfast well-doing; and who are the most persistent, and work in the truest spirit, will usually most successful. Fortune has often been blamed for her blindness; but fortune is not so as men are. Those who look into practical life will find that fortune is usually on the side of the industrious, as the winds and waves are on t side of the best navigators. In the pursuit of even the highest branche human inquiry, the commoner qualities are found the most useful--suc common sense, attention, application, and perseverance. Genius may necessary, though even genius of the highest sort does not disdain the of these ordinary qualities. The very greatest men have been among th least believers in the power of genius, and as worldly wise and persev as successful men of the commoner sort. Some have even defined gen be only common sense intensified. A distinguished teacher and presid a college spoke of it as the power of making efforts. John Foster held i be the power of lighting one's own fire. Buffon said of genius "it is patience." Newton's was unquestionably a mind of the very highest order, and ye when asked by what means he had worked out his extraordinary discoveries, he modestly answered, "By always thinking unto them." A CHAPTER IV 77 another time he thus expressed his method of study: "I keep the subje continually before me, and wait till the first dawnings open slowly by l and little into a full and clear light." It was in Newton's case, as in eve other, only by diligent application and perseverance that his great reputation was achieved. Even his recreation consisted in change of s laying down one subject to take up another. To Dr. Bentley he said: "If have done the public any service, it is due to nothing but industry and patient thought." So Kepler, another great philosopher, speaking of his studies and his progress, said: "As in Virgil, 'Fama mobilitate viget, vir acquirit eundo,' so it was with me, that the diligent thought on these t was the occasion of still further thinking; until at last I brooded with t whole energy of my mind upon the subject." The extraordinary results effected by dint of sheer industry and perseverance, have led many distinguished men to doubt whether the genius be so exceptional an endowment as it is usually supposed to be Thus Voltaire held that it is only a very slight line of separation that di the man of genius from the man of ordinary mould. Beccaria was even opinion that all men might be poets and orators, and Reynolds that th might be painters and sculptors. If this were really so, that stolid Englishman might not have been so very far wrong after all, who, on Canova's death, inquired of his brother whether it was "his intention t carry on the business!" Locke, Helvetius, and Diderot believed that all have an equal aptitude for genius, and that what some are able to effe under the laws which regulate the operations of the intellect, must als within the reach of others who, under like circumstances, apply thems to like pursuits. But while admitting to the fullest extent the wonderfu achievements of labour, and recognising the fact that men of the most distinguished genius have invariably been found the most indefatigabl workers, it must nevertheless be sufficiently obvious that, without the original endowment of heart and brain, no amount of labour, however applied, could have produced a Shakespeare, a Newton, a Beethoven, Michael Angelo. Dalton, the chemist, repudiated the notion of his being "a genius," attributing everything which he had accomplished to simple industry a CHAPTER IV 78 accumulation. John Hunter said of himself, "My mind is like a beehive; full as it is of buzz and apparent confusion, it is yet full of order and regularity, and food collected with incessant industry from the choices stores of nature." We have, indeed, but to glance at the biographies of men to find that the most distinguished inventors, artists, thinkers, an workers of all kinds, owe their success, in a great measure, to their indefatigable industry and application. They were men who turned all things to gold--even time itself. Disraeli the elder held that the secret success consisted in being master of your subject, such mastery being attainable only through continuous application and study. Hence it ha that the men who have most moved the world, have not been so much of genius, strictly so called, as men of intense mediocre abilities, and untiring perseverance; not so often the gifted, of naturally bright and shining qualities, as those who have applied themselves diligently to t work, in whatsoever line that might lie. "Alas!" said a widow, speaking her brilliant but careless son, "he has not the gift of continuance." Wa in perseverance, such volatile natures are outstripped in the race of li the diligent and even the dull. "Che va piano, va longano, e va lontano says the Italian proverb: Who goes slowly, goes long, and goes far. Hence, a great point to be aimed at is to get the working quality well trained. When that is done, the race will be found comparatively easy. must repeat and again repeat; facility will come with labour. Not even simplest art can be accomplished without it; and what difficulties it is capable of achieving! It was by early discipline and repetition that the Sir Robert Peel cultivated those remarkable, though still mediocre pow which rendered him so illustrious an ornament of the British Senate. W a boy at Drayton Manor, his father was accustomed to set him up at ta practise speaking extempore; and he early accustomed him to repeat much of the Sunday's sermon as he could remember. Little progress w made at first, but by steady perseverance the habit of attention becam powerful, and the sermon was at length repeated almost verbatim. Wh afterwards replying in succession to the arguments of his parliamenta opponents--an art in which he was perhaps unrivalled--it was little sur that the extraordinary power of accurate remembrance which he disp on such occasions had been originally trained under the discipline of h CHAPTER IV 79 father in the parish church of Drayton. It is indeed marvellous what continuous application will effect in the commonest of things. It may seem a simple affair to play upon a violin what a long and laborious practice it requires! Giardini said to a youth asked him how long it would take to learn it, "Twelve hours a day for twenty years together." Industry, it is said, fait l'ours danser. The poor figurante must devote years of incessant toil to her profitless task befo she can shine in it. When Taglioni was preparing herself for her evenin exhibition, she would, after a severe two hours' lesson from her father down exhausted, and had to be undressed, sponged, and resuscitated unconscious. The agility and bounds of the evening were insured only price like this. Progress, however, of the best kind, is comparatively slow. Great resul cannot be achieved at once; and we must be satisfied to advance in lif we walk, step by step. De Maistre says that "to know HOW TO WAIT is the great secret of success." We must sow before we can reap, and oft have to wait long, content meanwhile to look patiently forward in hop fruit best worth waiting for often ripening the slowest. But "time and patience," says the Eastern proverb, "change the mulberry leaf to sati To wait patiently, however, men must work cheerfully. Cheerfulness is excellent working quality, imparting great elasticity to the character. A bishop has said, "Temper is nine-tenths of Christianity;" so are cheerfu and diligence nine-tenths of practical wisdom. They are the life and so success, as well as of happiness; perhaps the very highest pleasure in consisting in clear, brisk, conscious working; energy, confidence, and other good quality mainly depending upon it. Sydney Smith, when labouring as a parish priest at Foston-le-Clay, in Yorkshire,--though he not feel himself to be in his proper element,--went cheerfully to work i firm determination to do his best. "I am resolved," he said, "to like it, a reconcile myself to it, which is more manly than to feign myself above and to send up complaints by the post of being thrown away, and bein desolate, and such like trash." So Dr. Hook, when leaving Leeds for a sphere of labour said, "Wherever I may be, I shall, by God's blessing, d CHAPTER IV 80 with my might what my hand findeth to do; and if I do not find work, I shall make it." Labourers for the public good especially, have to work long and patien often uncheered by the prospect of immediate recompense or result. T seeds they sow sometimes lie hidden under the winter's snow, and bef the spring comes the husbandman may have gone to his rest. It is not public worker who, like Rowland Hill, sees his great idea bring forth f in his life-time. Adam Smith sowed the seeds of a great social ameliora in that dingy old University of Glasgow where he so long laboured, an laid the foundations of his 'Wealth of Nations;' but seventy years passe before his work bore substantial fruits, nor indeed are they all gathere yet. Nothing can compensate for the loss of hope in a man: it entirely chan the character. "How can I work--how can I be happy," said a great but miserable thinker, "when I have lost all hope?" One of the most cheerf and courageous, because one of the most hopeful of workers, was Car the missionary. When in India, it was no uncommon thing for him to w out three pundits, who officiated as his clerks, in one day, he himself t rest only in change of employment. Carey, the son of a shoe-maker, wa supported in his labours by Ward, the son of a carpenter, and Marsham son of a weaver. By their labours, a magnificent college was erected a Serampore; sixteen flourishing stations were established; the Bible wa translated into sixteen languages, and the seeds were sown of a benefi moral revolution in British India. Carey was never ashamed of the humbleness of his origin. On one occasion, when at the Governor-Gen table he over-heard an officer opposite him asking another, loud enoug be heard, whether Carey had not once been a shoemaker: "No, sir," exclaimed Carey immediately; "only a cobbler." An eminently characteristic anecdote has been told of his perseverance as a boy. Wh climbing a tree one day, his foot slipped, and he fell to the ground, bre his leg by the fall. He was confined to his bed for weeks, but when he recovered and was able to walk without support, the very first thing h was to go and climb that tree. Carey had need of this sort of dauntless courage for the great missionary work of his life, and nobly and resolu CHAPTER IV 81 he did it. It was a maxim of Dr. Young, the philosopher, that "Any man can do w any other man has done;" and it is unquestionable that he himself nev recoiled from any trials to which he determined to subject himself. It i related of him, that the first time he mounted a horse, he was in comp with the grandson of Mr. Barclay of Ury, the well-known sportsman; w the horseman who preceded them leapt a high fence. Young wished to imitate him, but fell off his horse in the attempt. Without saying a wor remounted, made a second effort, and was again unsuccessful, but thi he was not thrown further than on to the horse's neck, to which he clu the third trial, he succeeded, and cleared the fence. The story of Timour the Tartar learning a lesson of perseverance unde adversity from the spider is well known. Not less interesting is the ane of Audubon, the American ornithologist, as related by himself: "An accident," he says, "which happened to two hundred of my original drawings, nearly put a stop to my researches in ornithology. I shall rel merely to show how far enthusiasm--for by no other name can I call m perseverance-- may enable the preserver of nature to surmount the m disheartening difficulties. I left the village of Henderson, in Kentucky, situated on the banks of the Ohio, where I resided for several years, to proceed to Philadelphia on business. I looked to my drawings before m departure, placed them carefully in a wooden box, and gave them in c of a relative, with injunctions to see that no injury should happen to th My absence was of several months; and when I returned, after having enjoyed the pleasures of home for a few days, I inquired after my box, what I was pleased to call my treasure. The box was produced and ope but reader, feel for me--a pair of Norway rats had taken possession of whole, and reared a young family among the gnawed bits of paper, wh but a month previous, represented nearly a thousand inhabitants of ai burning beat which instantly rushed through my brain was too great t endured without affecting my whole nervous system. I slept for severa nights, and the days passed like days of oblivion--until the animal pow being recalled into action through the strength of my constitution, I to my gun, my notebook, and my pencils, and went forth to the woods as CHAPTER IV 82 as if nothing had happened. I felt pleased that I might now make better drawings than before; and, ere a period not exceeding three years had elapsed, my portfolio was again filled." The accidental destruction of Sir Isaac Newton's papers, by his little d 'Diamond' upsetting a lighted taper upon his desk, by which the elabo calculations of many years were in a moment destroyed, is a well-know anecdote, and need not be repeated: it is said that the loss caused the philosopher such profound grief that it seriously injured his health, an impaired his understanding. An accident of a somewhat similar kind happened to the MS. of Mr. Carlyle's first volume of his 'French Revolution.' He had lent the MS. to a literary neighbour to peruse. By mischance, it had been left lying on the parlour floor, and become forgotten. Weeks ran on, and the historian sent for his work, the print being loud for "copy." Inquiries were made, and it was found that the maid-of-all-work, finding what she conceived to be a bundle of waste p on the floor, had used it to light the kitchen and parlour fires with! Su was the answer returned to Mr. Carlyle; and his feelings may be imag There was, however, no help for him but to set resolutely to work to re-write the book; and he turned to and did it. He had no draft, and wa compelled to rake up from his memory facts, ideas, and expressions, w had been long since dismissed. The composition of the book in the firs instance had been a work of pleasure; the re-writing of it a second tim one of pain and anguish almost beyond belief. That he persevered and finished the volume under such circumstances, affords an instance of determination of purpose which has seldom been surpassed. The lives of eminent inventors are eminently illustrative of the same q of perseverance. George Stephenson, when addressing young men, wa accustomed to sum up his best advice to them, in the words, "Do as I h done--persevere." He had worked at the improvement of his locomotiv some fifteen years before achieving his decisive victory at Rainhill; an Watt was engaged for some thirty years upon the condensing-engine b he brought it to perfection. But there are equally striking illustrations perseverance to be found in every other branch of science, art, and in Perhaps one of the most interesting is that connected with the CHAPTER IV 83 disentombment of the Nineveh marbles, and the discovery of the long-lo cuneiform or arrow-headed character in which the inscriptions on them written--a kind of writing which had been lost to the world since the perio of the Macedonian conquest of Persia. An intelligent cadet of the East India Company, stationed at Kermansh in Persia, had observed the curious cuneiform inscriptions on the old monuments in the neighbourhood--so old that all historical traces of th had been lost,--and amongst the inscriptions which he copied was that the celebrated rock of Behistun--a perpendicular rock rising abruptly 1700 feet from the plain, the lower part bearing inscriptions for the sp about 300 feet in three languages--Persian, Scythian, and Assyrian. Comparison of the known with the unknown, of the language which survived with the language that had been lost, enabled this cadet to a some knowledge of the cuneiform character, and even to form an alph Mr. (afterwards Sir Henry) Rawlinson sent his tracings home for examination. No professors in colleges as yet knew anything of the cuneiform character; but there was a ci-devant clerk of the East India House--a modest unknown man of the name of Norris--who had made little-understood subject his study, to whom the tracings were submitt and so accurate was his knowledge, that, though he had never seen th Behistun rock, he pronounced that the cadet had not copied the puzzl inscription with proper exactness. Rawlinson, who was still in the neighbourhood of the rock, compared his copy with the original, and f that Norris was right; and by further comparison and careful study th knowledge of the cuneiform writing was thus greatly advanced. But to make the learning of these two self-taught men of avail, a third labourer was necessary in order to supply them with material for the exercise of their skill. Such a labourer presented himself in the person Austen Layard, originally an articled clerk in the office of a London solicitor. One would scarcely have expected to find in these three men cadet, an India-House clerk, and a lawyer's clerk, the discoverers of a forgotten language, and of the buried history of Babylon; yet it was so Layard was a youth of only twenty-two, travelling in the East, when he possessed with a desire to penetrate the regions beyond the Euphrate CHAPTER IV 84 Accompanied by a single companion, trusting to his arms for protectio and, what was better, to his cheerfulness, politeness, and chivalrous bearing, he passed safely amidst tribes at deadly war with each other; after the lapse of many years, with comparatively slender means at hi command, but aided by application and perseverance, resolute will an purpose, and almost sublime patience,--borne up throughout by his passionate enthusiasm for discovery and research,--he succeeded in la bare and digging up an amount of historical treasures, the like of whic probably never before been collected by the industry of any one man. less than two miles of bas-reliefs were thus brought to light by Mr. La The selection of these valuable antiquities, now placed in the British Museum, was found so curiously corroborative of the scriptural record events which occurred some three thousand years ago, that they burs the world almost like a new revelation. And the story of the disentomb of these remarkable works, as told by Mr. Layard himself in his 'Monuments of Nineveh,' will always be regarded as one of the most charming and unaffected records which we possess of individual enter industry, and energy. The career of the Comte de Buffon presents another remarkable illust of the power of patient industry as well as of his own saying, that "Gen is patience." Notwithstanding the great results achieved by him in nat history, Buffon, when a youth, was regarded as of mediocre talents. H mind was slow in forming itself, and slow in reproducing what it had acquired. He was also constitutionally indolent; and being born to goo estate, it might be supposed that he would indulge his liking for ease luxury. Instead of which, he early formed the resolution of denying him pleasure, and devoting himself to study and self-culture. Regarding tim a treasure that was limited, and finding that he was losing many hours lying a-bed in the mornings, he determined to break himself of the hab He struggled hard against it for some time, but failed in being able to the hour he had fixed. He then called his servant, Joseph, to his help, a promised him the reward of a crown every time that he succeeded in g him up before six. At first, when called, Buffon declined to rise--pleade that he was ill, or pretended anger at being disturbed; and on the Cou length getting up, Joseph found that he had earned nothing but reproa CHAPTER IV 85 for having permitted his master to lie a-bed contrary to his express or At length the valet determined to earn his crown; and again and again forced Buffon to rise, notwithstanding his entreaties, expostulations, a threats of immediate discharge from his service. One morning Buffon unusually obstinate, and Joseph found it necessary to resort to the ext measure of dashing a basin of ice-cold water under the bed-clothes, th effect of which was instantaneous. By the persistent use of such mean Buffon at length conquered his habit; and he was accustomed to say th owed to Joseph three or four volumes of his Natural History. For forty years of his life, Buffon worked every morning at his desk fro nine till two, and again in the evening from five till nine. His diligence so continuous and so regular that it became habitual. His biographer said of him, "Work was his necessity; his studies were the charm of his and towards the last term of his glorious career he frequently said tha still hoped to be able to consecrate to them a few more years." He wa most conscientious worker, always studying to give the reader his bes thoughts, expressed in the very best manner. He was never wearied w touching and retouching his compositions, so that his style may be pronounced almost perfect. He wrote the 'Epoques de la Nature' not f than eleven times before he was satisfied with it; although he had tho over the work about fifty years. He was a thorough man of business, m orderly in everything; and he was accustomed to say that genius witho order lost three-fourths of its power. His great success as a writer was result mainly of his painstaking labour and diligent application. "Buffo observed Madame Necker, "strongly persuaded that genius is the resu profound attention directed to a particular subject, said that he was thoroughly wearied out when composing his first writings, but compel himself to return to them and go over them carefully again, even when thought he had already brought them to a certain degree of perfection that at length he found pleasure instead of weariness in this long and elaborate correction." It ought also to be added that Buffon wrote and published all his great works while afflicted by one of the most painfu diseases to which the human frame is subject. CHAPTER IV 86 Literary life affords abundant illustrations of the same power of perseverance; and perhaps no career is more instructive, viewed in th light, than that of Sir Walter Scott. His admirable working qualities we trained in a lawyer's office, where he pursued for many years a sort of drudgery scarcely above that of a copying clerk. His daily dull routine made his evenings, which were his own, all the more sweet; and he generally devoted them to reading and study. He himself attributed to prosaic office discipline that habit of steady, sober diligence, in which literary men are so often found wanting. As a copying clerk he was all 3d. for every page containing a certain number of words; and he sometimes, by extra work, was able to copy as many as 120 pages in twenty-four hours, thus earning some 30s.; out of which he would occasionally purchase an odd volume, otherwise beyond his means. During his after-life Scott was wont to pride himself upon being a man business, and he averred, in contradiction to what he called the cant o sonneteers, that there was no necessary connection between genius a aversion or contempt for the common duties of life. On the contrary, h of opinion that to spend some fair portion of every day in any matter-o occupation was good for the higher faculties themselves in the upshot While afterwards acting as clerk to the Court of Session in Edinburgh performed his literary work chiefly before breakfast, attending the cou during the day, where he authenticated registered deeds and writings various kinds. On the whole, says Lockhart, "it forms one of the most remarkable features in his history, that throughout the most active pe his literary career, he must have devoted a large proportion of his hou during half at least of every year, to the conscientious discharge of professional duties." It was a principle of action which he laid down fo himself, that he must earn his living by business, and not by literature one occasion he said, "I determined that literature should be my staff, my crutch, and that the profits of my literary labour, however conveni otherwise, should not, if I could help it, become necessary to my ordin expenses." His punctuality was one of the most carefully cultivated of his habits, otherwise it had not been possible for him to get through so enormous CHAPTER IV 87 amount of literary labour. He made it a rule to answer every letter rec by him on the same day, except where inquiry and deliberation were requisite. Nothing else could have enabled him to keep abreast with t flood of communications that poured in upon him and sometimes put h good nature to the severest test. It was his practice to rise by five o'cl and light his own fire. He shaved and dressed with deliberation, and w seated at his desk by six o'clock, with his papers arranged before him most accurate order, his works of reference marshalled round him on floor, while at least one favourite dog lay watching his eye, outside the of books. Thus by the time the family assembled for breakfast, betwee nine and ten, he had done enough--to use his own words--to break the of the day's work. But with all his diligent and indefatigable industry, a his immense knowledge, the result of many years' patient labour, Scot always spoke with the greatest diffidence of his own powers. On one occasion he said, "Throughout every part of my career I have felt pinc and hampered by my own ignorance." Such is true wisdom and humility; for the more a man really knows, th less conceited he will be. The student at Trinity College who went up t professor to take leave of him because he had "finished his education, wisely rebuked by the professor's reply, "Indeed! I am only beginning mine." The superficial person who has obtained a smattering of many things, but knows nothing well, may pride himself upon his gifts; but t sage humbly confesses that "all he knows is, that he knows nothing," o Newton, that he has been only engaged in picking shells by the sea sh while the great ocean of truth lies all unexplored before him. The lives of second-rate literary men furnish equally remarkable illustrations of the power of perseverance. The late John Britton, auth 'The Beauties of England and Wales,' and of many valuable architectu works, was born in a miserable cot in Kingston, Wiltshire. His father h been a baker and maltster, but was ruined in trade and became insane Britton was yet a child. The boy received very little schooling, but a gr deal of bad example, which happily did not corrupt him. He was early life set to labour with an uncle, a tavern-keeper in Clerkenwell, under whom he bottled, corked, and binned wine for more than five years. H CHAPTER IV 88 health failing him, his uncle turned him adrift in the world, with only t guineas, the fruits of his five years' service, in his pocket. During the n seven years of his life he endured many vicissitudes and hardships. Ye says, in his autobiography, "in my poor and obscure lodgings, at eighteenpence a week, I indulged in study, and often read in bed durin winter evenings, because I could not afford a fire." Travelling on foot t Bath, he there obtained an engagement as a cellarman, but shortly aft find him back in the metropolis again almost penniless, shoeless, and shirtless. He succeeded, however, in obtaining employment as a cellar at the London Tavern, where it was his duty to be in the cellar from se in the morning until eleven at night. His health broke down under this confinement in the dark, added to the heavy work; and he then engag himself, at fifteen shillings a week, to an attorney,--for he had been diligently cultivating the art of writing during the few spare minutes t could call his own. While in this employment, he devoted his leisure principally to perambulating the bookstalls, where he read books by snatches which he could not buy, and thus picked up a good deal of od knowledge. Then he shifted to another office, at the advanced wages o twenty shillings a week, still reading and studying. At twenty-eight he able to write a book, which he published under the title of 'The Enterp Adventures of Pizarro;' and from that time until his death, during a pe of about fifty-five years, Britton was occupied in laborious literary occupation. The number of his published works is not fewer than eighty-seven; the most important being 'The Cathedral Antiquities of England,' in fourteen volumes, a truly magnificent work; itself the bes monument of John Britton's indefatigable industry. London, the landscape gardener, was a man of somewhat similar char possessed of an extraordinary working power. The son of a farmer nea Edinburgh, he was early inured to work. His skill in drawing plans and making sketches of scenery induced his father to train him for a lands gardener. During his apprenticeship he sat up two whole nights every to study; yet he worked harder during the day than any labourer. In th course of his night studies he learnt French, and before he was eighte translated a life of Abelard for an Encyclopaedia. He was so eager to m progress in life, that when only twenty, while working as a gardener in CHAPTER IV 89 England, he wrote down in his note-book, "I am now twenty years of a and perhaps a third part of my life has passed away, and yet what hav done to benefit my fellow men?" an unusual reflection for a youth of o twenty. From French he proceeded to learn German, and rapidly mast that language. Having taken a large farm, for the purpose of introduci Scotch improvements in the art of agriculture, he shortly succeeded in realising a considerable income. The continent being thrown open at t end of the war, he travelled abroad for the purpose of inquiring into th system of gardening and agriculture in other countries. He twice repe his journeys, and the results were published in his Encyclopaedias, wh are among the most remarkable works of their kind,--distinguished for immense mass of useful matter which they contain, collected by an am of industry and labour which has rarely been equalled. The career of Samuel Drew is not less remarkable than any of those w we have cited. His father was a hard-working labourer of the parish o Austell, in Cornwall. Though poor, he contrived to send his two sons to penny-a-week school in the neighbourhood. Jabez, the elder, took delig learning, and made great progress in his lessons; but Samuel, the you was a dunce, notoriously given to mischief and playing truant. When a eight years old he was put to manual labour, earning three-halfpence as a buddle-boy at a tin mine. At ten he was apprenticed to a shoemak and while in this employment he endured much hardship,-- living, as h used to say, "like a toad under a harrow." He often thought of running and becoming a pirate, or something of the sort, and he seems to have grown in recklessness as he grew in years. In robbing orchards he wa usually a leader; and, as he grew older, he delighted to take part in an poaching or smuggling adventure. When about seventeen, before his apprenticeship was out, he ran away, intending to enter on board a man-of-war; but, sleeping in a hay-field at night cooled him a little, an returned to his trade. Drew next removed to the neighbourhood of Plymouth to work at his shoemaking business, and while at Cawsand he won a prize for cudgel-playing, in which he seems to have been an adept. While living there, he had nearly lost his life in a smuggling exploit which he had j CHAPTER IV 90 partly induced by the love of adventure, and partly by the love of gain his regular wages were not more than eight shillings a-week. One nigh notice was given throughout Crafthole, that a smuggler was off the co ready to land her cargo; on which the male population of the place--ne all smugglers--made for the shore. One party remained on the rocks to make signals and dispose of the goods as they were landed; and anoth manned the boats, Drew being of the latter party. The night was inten dark, and very little of the cargo had been landed, when the wind rose a heavy sea. The men in the boats, however, determined to persevere, several trips were made between the smuggler, now standing farther sea, and the shore. One of the men in the boat in which Drew was, had hat blown off by the wind, and in attempting to recover it, the boat wa upset. Three of the men were immediately drowned; the others clung boat for a time, but finding it drifting out to sea, they took to swimmin They were two miles from land, and the night was intensely dark. Afte being about three hours in the water, Drew reached a rock near the sh with one or two others, where he remained benumbed with cold till morning, when he and his companions were discovered and taken off, dead than alive. A keg of brandy from the cargo just landed was broug the head knocked in with a hatchet, and a bowlfull of the liquid presen the survivors; and, shortly after, Drew was able to walk two miles thro deep snow, to his lodgings. This was a very unpromising beginning of a life; and yet this same Dre scapegrace, orchard-robber, shoemaker, cudgel-player, and smuggler, outlived the recklessness of his youth and became distinguished as a minister of the Gospel and a writer of good books. Happily, before it w too late, the energy which characterised him was turned into a more h direction, and rendered him as eminent in usefulness as he had before in wickedness. His father again took him back to St. Austell, and found employment for him as a journeyman shoemaker. Perhaps his recent e from death had tended to make the young man serious, as we shortly him attracted by the forcible preaching of Dr. Adam Clarke, a minister the Wesleyan Methodists. His brother having died about the same tim impression of seriousness was deepened; and thenceforward he was a altered man. He began anew the work of education, for he had almost CHAPTER IV 91 forgotten how to read and write; and even after several years' practic friend compared his writing to the traces of a spider dipped in ink set crawl upon paper. Speaking of himself, about that time, Drew afterwa said, "The more I read, the more I felt my own ignorance; and the mor felt my ignorance, the more invincible became my energy to surmount Every leisure moment was now employed in reading one thing or anot Having to support myself by manual labour, my time for reading was b little, and to overcome this disadvantage, my usual method was to pla book before me while at meat, and at every repast I read five or six pa The perusal of Locke's 'Essay on the Understanding' gave the first metaphysical turn to his mind. "It awakened me from my stupor," said "and induced me to form a resolution to abandon the grovelling views which I had been accustomed to entertain." Drew began business on his own account, with a capital of a few shilli but his character for steadiness was such that a neighbouring miller o him a loan, which was accepted, and, success attending his industry, t debt was repaid at the end of a year. He started with a determination "owe no man anything," and he held to it in the midst of many privatio Often he went to bed supperless, to avoid rising in debt. His ambition to achieve independence by industry and economy, and in this he grad succeeded. In the midst of incessant labour, he sedulously strove to improve his mind, studying astronomy, history, and metaphysics. He w induced to pursue the latter study chiefly because it required fewer bo consult than either of the others. "It appeared to be a thorny path," he "but I determined, nevertheless, to enter, and accordingly began to tre Added to his labours in shoemaking and metaphysics, Drew became a preacher and a class leader. He took an eager interest in politics, and shop became a favourite resort with the village politicians. And when did not come to him, he went to them to talk over public affairs. This s encroached upon his time that he found it necessary sometimes to wo until midnight to make up for the hours lost during the day. His politic fervour become the talk of the village. While busy one night hammerin away at a shoe-sole, a little boy, seeing a light in the shop, put his mou the keyhole of the door, and called out in a shrill pipe, "Shoemaker! CHAPTER IV 92 shoe-maker! work by night and run about by day!" A friend, to whom D afterwards told the story, asked, "And did not you run after the boy, an strap him?" "No, no," was the reply; "had a pistol been fired off at my could not have been more dismayed or confounded. I dropped my wor and said to myself, 'True, true! but you shall never have that to say of again.' To me that cry was as the voice of God, and it has been a word season throughout my life. I learnt from it not to leave till to- morrow work of to-day, or to idle when I ought to be working." From that moment Drew dropped politics, and stuck to his work, read and studying in his spare hours: but he never allowed the latter pursu interfere with his business, though it frequently broke in upon his rest married, and thought of emigrating to America; but he remained work on. His literary taste first took the direction of poetical composition; a from some of the fragments which have been preserved, it appears th speculations as to the immateriality and immortality of the soul had th origin in these poetical musings. His study was the kitchen, where his wife's bellows served him for a desk; and he wrote amidst the cries an cradlings of his children. Paine's 'Age of Reason' having appeared abo this time and excited much interest, he composed a pamphlet in refuta of its arguments, which was published. He used afterwards to say tha was the 'Age of Reason' that made him an author. Various pamphlets f his pen shortly appeared in rapid succession, and a few years later, wh still working at shoemaking, he wrote and published his admirable 'Es on the Immateriality and Immortality of the Human Soul,' which he so twenty pounds, a great sum in his estimation at the time. The book we through many editions, and is still prized. Drew was in no wise puffed up by his success, as many young authors but, long after he had become celebrated as a writer, used to be seen sweeping the street before his door, or helping his apprentices to carr the winter's coals. Nor could he, for some time, bring himself to regar literature as a profession to live by. His first care was, to secure an ho livelihood by his business, and to put into the "lottery of literary succe as he termed it, only the surplus of his time. At length, however, he de himself wholly to literature, more particularly in connection with the CHAPTER IV 93 Wesleyan body; editing one of their magazines, and superintending th publication of several of their denominational works. He also wrote in 'Eclectic Review,' and compiled and published a valuable history of his native county, Cornwall, with numerous other works. Towards the clos his career, he said of himself,--"Raised from one of the lowest stations society, I have endeavoured through life to bring my family into a state respectability, by honest industry, frugality, and a high regard for my m character. Divine providence has smiled on my exertions, and crowned wishes with success." The late Joseph Hume pursued a very different career, but worked in a equally persevering spirit. He was a man of moderate parts, but of gre industry and unimpeachable honesty of purpose. The motto of his life "Perseverance," and well, he acted up to it. His father dying while he w mere child, his mother opened a small shop in Montrose, and toiled ha maintain her family and bring them up respectably. Joseph she put apprentice to a surgeon, and educated for the medical profession. Hav got his diploma, he made several voyages to India as ship's surgeon, { and afterwards obtained a cadetship in the Company's service. None worked harder, or lived more temperately, than he did, and, securing t confidence of his superiors, who found him a capable man in the performance of his duty, they gradually promoted him to higher office 1803 he was with the division of the army under General Powell, in th Mahratta war; and the interpreter having died, Hume, who had meanw studied and mastered the native languages, was appointed in his stead was next made chief of the medical staff. But as if this were not enoug occupy his full working power, he undertook in addition the offices of paymaster and post-master, and filled them satisfactorily. He also contracted to supply the commissariat, which he did with advantage t army and profit to himself. After about ten years' unremitting labour, h returned to England with a competency; and one of his first acts was t make provision for the poorer members of his family. But Joseph Hume was not a man to enjoy the fruits of his industry in idleness. Work and occupation had become necessary for his comfort happiness. To make himself fully acquainted with the actual state of h CHAPTER IV 94 own country, and the condition of the people, he visited every town in kingdom which then enjoyed any degree of manufacturing celebrity. H afterwards travelled abroad for the purpose of obtaining a knowledge foreign states. Returned to England, he entered Parliament in 1812, a continued a member of that assembly, with a short interruption, for a of about thirty-four years. His first recorded speech was on the subjec public education, and throughout his long and honourable career he t active and earnest interest in that and all other questions calculated t elevate and improve the condition of the people-- criminal reform, savings-banks, free trade, economy and retrenchment, extended representation, and such like measures, all of which he indefatigably promoted. Whatever subject he undertook, he worked at with all his m He was not a good speaker, but what he said was believed to proceed the lips of an honest, single-minded, accurate man. If ridicule, as Shaftesbury says, be the test of truth, Joseph Hume stood the test wel man was more laughed at, but there he stood perpetually, and literally his post." He was usually beaten on a division, but the influence which exercised was nevertheless felt, and many important financial improvements were effected by him even with the vote directly agains him. The amount of hard work which he contrived to get through was something extraordinary. He rose at six, wrote letters and arranged hi papers for parliament; then, after breakfast, he received persons on business, sometimes as many as twenty in a morning. The House rare assembled without him, and though the debate might be prolonged to or three o'clock in the morning, his name was seldom found absent fro division. In short, to perform the work which he did, extending over so a period, in the face of so many Administrations, week after week, yea after year,--to be outvoted, beaten, laughed at, standing on many occa almost alone,--to persevere in the face of every discouragement, prese his temper unruffled, never relaxing in his energy or his hope, and livi see the greater number of his measures adopted with acclamation, mu regarded as one of the most remarkable illustrations of the power of h perseverance that biography can exhibit. CHAPTER V 95 CHAPTER V --HELPS AND OPPORTUNITIES--SCIENTIFIC PURSUITS "Neither the naked hand, nor the understanding, left to itself, can do m the work is accomplished by instruments and helps, of which the need not less for the understanding than the hand."-- Bacon. "Opportunity has hair in front, behind she is bald; if you seize her by the forelock you may hold her, but, if suffered to escape, not Jupiter himself can catch her again."--From the Latin. Accident does very little towards the production of any great result in Though sometimes what is called "a happy hit" may be made by a bold venture, the common highway of steady industry and application is th safe road to travel. It is said of the landscape painter Wilson, that whe had nearly finished a picture in a tame, correct manner, he would step from it, his pencil fixed at the end of a long stick, and after gazing ear on the work, he would suddenly walk up and by a few bold touches giv brilliant finish to the painting. But it will not do for every one who wou produce an effect, to throw his brush at the canvas in the hope of prod a picture. The capability of putting in these last vital touches is acquir only by the labour of a life; and the probability is, that the artist who h not carefully trained himself beforehand, in attempting to produce a brilliant effect at a dash, will only produce a blotch. Sedulous attention and painstaking industry always mark the true wor The greatest men are not those who "despise the day of small things," those who improve them the most carefully. Michael Angelo was one d explaining to a visitor at his studio, what he had been doing at a statu his previous visit. "I have retouched this part--polished that--softened feature-- brought out that muscle--given some expression to this lip, a more energy to that limb." "But these are trifles," remarked the visitor may be so," replied the sculptor, "but recollect that trifles make perfec and perfection is no trifle." So it was said of Nicholas Poussin, the pain that the rule of his conduct was, that "whatever was worth doing at al CHAPTER V 96 worth doing well;" and when asked, late in life, by his friend Vigneul d Marville, by what means he had gained so high a reputation among th painters of Italy, Poussin emphatically answered, "Because I have neg nothing." Although there are discoveries which are said to have been made by accident, if carefully inquired into, it will be found that there has reall been very little that was accidental about them. For the most part, the so-called accidents have only been opportunities, carefully improved b genius. The fall of the apple at Newton's feet has often been quoted in of the accidental character of some discoveries. But Newton's whole m had already been devoted for years to the laborious and patient investigation of the subject of gravitation; and the circumstance of the falling before his eyes was suddenly apprehended only as genius could apprehend it, and served to flash upon him the brilliant discovery then opening to his sight. In like manner, the brilliantly-coloured soap-bubb blown from a common tobacco pipe- -though "trifles light as air" in mo eyes--suggested to Dr. Young his beautiful theory of "interferences," a led to his discovery relating to the diffraction of light. Although great are popularly supposed only to deal with great things, men such as Ne and Young were ready to detect the significance of the most familiar a simple facts; their greatness consisting mainly in their wise interpreta them. The difference between men consists, in a great measure, in the intell of their observation. The Russian proverb says of the non-observant m "He goes through the forest and sees no firewood." "The wise man's e are in his head," says Solomon, "but the fool walketh in darkness." "Si said Johnson, on one occasion, to a fine gentleman just returned from "some men will learn more in the Hampstead stage than others in the of Europe." It is the mind that sees as well as the eye. Where unthinki gazers observe nothing, men of intelligent vision penetrate into the ve fibre of the phenomena presented to them, attentively noting differenc making comparisons, and recognizing their underlying idea. Many bef Galileo had seen a suspended weight swing before their eyes with a measured beat; but he was the first to detect the value of the fact. On CHAPTER V 97 the vergers in the cathedral at Pisa, after replenishing with oil a lamp hung from the roof, left it swinging to and fro; and Galileo, then a you only eighteen, noting it attentively, conceived the idea of applying it to measurement of time. Fifty years of study and labour, however, elapse before he completed the invention of his Pendulum,--the importance o which, in the measurement of time and in astronomical calculations, c scarcely be overrated. In like manner, Galileo, having casually heard t one Lippershey, a Dutch spectacle-maker, had presented to Count Mau of Nassau an instrument by means of which distant objects appeared to the beholder, addressed himself to the cause of such a phenomenon which led to the invention of the telescope, and proved the beginning modern science of astronomy. Discoveries such as these could never h been made by a negligent observer, or by a mere passive listener. While Captain (afterwards Sir Samuel) Brown was occupied in studyin the construction of bridges, with the view of contriving one of a cheap description to be thrown across the Tweed, near which he lived, he wa walking in his garden one dewy autumn morning, when he saw a tiny spider's net suspended across his path. The idea immediately occurre him, that a bridge of iron ropes or chains might be constructed in like manner, and the result was the invention of his Suspension Bridge. So James Watt, when consulted about the mode of carrying water by pipe under the Clyde, along the unequal bed of the river, turned his attenti day to the shell of a lobster presented at table; and from that model h invented an iron tube, which, when laid down, was found effectually to answer the purpose. Sir Isambert Brunel took his first lessons in form the Thames Tunnel from the tiny shipworm: he saw how the little crea perforated the wood with its well- armed head, first in one direction a then in another, till the archway was complete, and then daubed over roof and sides with a kind of varnish; and by copying this work exactly large scale, Brunel was at length enabled to construct his shield and accomplish his great engineering work. It is the intelligent eye of the careful observer which gives these appa trivial phenomena their value. So trifling a matter as the sight of seaw floating past his ship, enabled Columbus to quell the mutiny which aro CHAPTER V 98 amongst his sailors at not discovering land, and to assure them that th eagerly sought New World was not far off. There is nothing so small th should remain forgotten; and no fact, however trivial, but may prove u in some way or other if carefully interpreted. Who could have imagine that the famous "chalk cliffs of Albion" had been built up by tiny insects--detected only by the help of the microscope--of the same orde creatures that have gemmed the sea with islands of coral! And who th contemplates such extraordinary results, arising from infinitely minut operations, will venture to question the power of little things? It is the close observation of little things which is the secret of success business, in art, in science, and in every pursuit in life. Human knowle is but an accumulation of small facts, made by successive generations men, the little bits of knowledge and experience carefully treasured u them growing at length into a mighty pyramid. Though many of these and observations seemed in the first instance to have but slight signifi they are all found to have their eventual uses, and to fit into their prop places. Even many speculations seemingly remote, turn out to be the b of results the most obviously practical. In the case of the conic section discovered by Apollonius Pergaeus, twenty centuries elapsed before th were made the basis of astronomy--a science which enables the moder navigator to steer his way through unknown seas and traces for him in heavens an unerring path to his appointed haven. And had not mathematicians toiled for so long, and, to uninstructed observers, apparently so fruitlessly, over the abstract relations of lines and surfac is probable that but few of our mechanical inventions would have seen light. When Franklin made his discovery of the identity of lightning and electricity, it was sneered at, and people asked, "Of what use is it?" To which his reply was, "What is the use of a child? It may become a man When Galvani discovered that a frog's leg twitched when placed in co with different metals, it could scarcely have been imagined that so apparently insignificant a fact could have led to important results. Yet therein lay the germ of the Electric Telegraph, which binds the intellig of continents together, and, probably before many years have elapsed CHAPTER V 99 "put a girdle round the globe." So too, little bits of stone and fossil, dug ou of the earth, intelligently interpreted, have issued in the science of geolo and the practical operations of mining, in which large capitals are invest and vast numbers of persons profitably employed. The gigantic machinery employed in pumping our mines, working our and manufactures, and driving our steam-ships and locomotives, in lik manner depends for its supply of power upon so slight an agency as li drops of water expanded by heat,--that familiar agency called steam, w we see issuing from that common tea-kettle spout, but which, when pu within an ingeniously contrived mechanism, displays a force equal to t of millions of horses, and contains a power to rebuke the waves and se even the hurricane at defiance. The same power at work within the bo of the earth has been the cause of those volcanoes and earthquakes w have played so mighty a part in the history of the globe. It is said that the Marquis of Worcester's attention was first accidenta directed to the subject of steam power, by the tight cover of a vessel containing hot water having been blown off before his eyes, when con a prisoner in the Tower. He published the result of his observations in 'Century of Inventions,' which formed a sort of text-book for inquirers the powers of steam for a time, until Savary, Newcomen, and others, applying it to practical purposes, brought the steam-engine to the stat which Watt found it when called upon to repair a model of Newcomen engine, which belonged to the University of Glasgow. This accidental circumstance was an opportunity for Watt, which he was not slow to improve; and it was the labour of his life to bring the steam-engine to perfection. This art of seizing opportunities and turning even accidents to accoun bending them to some purpose is a great secret of success. Dr. Johnso defined genius to be "a mind of large general powers accidentally determined in some particular direction." Men who are resolved to fin way for themselves, will always find opportunities enough; and if they not lie ready to their hand, they will make them. It is not those who ha enjoyed the advantages of colleges, museums, and public galleries, th CHAPTER V 100 have accomplished the most for science and art; nor have the greates mechanics and inventors been trained in mechanics' institutes. Neces oftener than facility, has been the mother of invention; and the most p school of all has been the school of difficulty. Some of the very best workmen have had the most indifferent tools to work with. But it is no tools that make the workman, but the trained skill and perseverance o man himself. Indeed it is proverbial that the bad workman never yet h good tool. Some one asked Opie by what wonderful process he mixed colours. "I mix them with my brains, sir," was his reply. It is the same every workman who would excel. Ferguson made marvellous things--s as his wooden clock, that accurately measured the hours--by means of common penknife, a tool in everybody's hand; but then everybody is n Ferguson. A pan of water and two thermometers were the tools by wh Dr. Black discovered latent heat; and a prism, a lens, and a sheet of pasteboard enabled Newton to unfold the composition of light and the origin of colours. An eminent foreign savant once called upon Dr. Wollaston, and requested to be shown over his laboratories in which science had been enriched by so many important discoveries, when th doctor took him into a little study, and, pointing to an old tea-tray on t table, containing a few watch-glasses, test papers, a small balance, an blowpipe, said, "There is all the laboratory that I have!" Stothard learnt the art of combining colours by closely studying butte wings: he would often say that no one knew what he owed to these tin insects. A burnt stick and a barn door served Wilkie in lieu of pencil a canvas. Bewick first practised drawing on the cottage walls of his nati village, which he covered with his sketches in chalk; and Benjamin We made his first brushes out of the cat's tail. Ferguson laid himself down the fields at night in a blanket, and made a map of the heavenly bodie means of a thread with small beads on it stretched between his eye an stars. Franklin first robbed the thundercloud of its lightning by means kite made with two cross sticks and a silk handkerchief. Watt made hi model of the condensing steam-engine out of an old anatomist's syring used to inject the arteries previous to dissection. Gifford worked his fi problems in mathematics, when a cobbler's apprentice, upon small sc leather, which he beat smooth for the purpose; whilst Rittenhouse, the CHAPTER V 101 astronomer, first calculated eclipses on his plough handle. The most ordinary occasions will furnish a man with opportunities or suggestions for improvement, if he be but prompt to take advantage o them. Professor Lee was attracted to the study of Hebrew by finding a Bible in that tongue in a synagogue, while working as a common carp at the repairs of the benches. He became possessed with a desire to r book in the original, and, buying a cheap second-hand copy of a Hebre grammar, he set to work and learnt the language for himself. As Edmu Stone said to the Duke of Argyle, in answer to his grace's inquiry how poor gardener's boy, had contrived to be able to read Newton's Princip Latin, "One needs only to know the twenty-four letters of the alphabet order to learn everything else that one wishes." Application and perseverance, and the diligent improvement of opportunities, will do t rest. Sir Walter Scott found opportunities for self-improvement in every pur and turned even accidents to account. Thus it was in the discharge of functions as a writer's apprentice that he first visited the Highlands, a formed those friendships among the surviving heroes of 1745 which s to lay the foundation of a large class of his works. Later in life, when employed as quartermaster of the Edinburgh Light Cavalry, he was accidentally disabled by the kick of a horse, and confined for some tim his house; but Scott was a sworn enemy to idleness, and he forthwith mind to work. In three days he had composed the first canto of 'The L the Last Minstrel,' which he shortly after finished,--his first great origi work. The attention of Dr. Priestley, the discoverer of so many gases, was accidentally drawn to the subject of chemistry through his living in th neighbourhood of a brewery. When visiting the place one day, he noted peculiar appearances attending the extinction of lighted chips in the g floating over the fermented liquor. He was forty years old at the time, knew nothing of chemistry. He consulted books to ascertain the cause they told him little, for as yet nothing was known on the subject. Then began to experiment, with some rude apparatus of his own contrivanc CHAPTER V 102 curious results of his first experiments led to others, which in his hand shortly became the science of pneumatic chemistry. About the same ti Scheele was obscurely working in the same direction in a remote Swe village; and he discovered several new gases, with no more effective apparatus at his command than a few apothecaries' phials and pigs' bladders. Sir Humphry Davy, when an apothecary's apprentice, performed his fi experiments with instruments of the rudest description. He extempori the greater part of them himself, out of the motley materials which ch threw in his way,--the pots and pans of the kitchen, and the phials and vessels of his master's surgery. It happened that a French ship was wr off the Land's End, and the surgeon escaped, bearing with him his cas instruments, amongst which was an old-fashioned glyster apparatus; t article he presented to Davy, with whom he had become acquainted. T apothecary's apprentice received it with great exultation, and forthwit employed it as a part of a pneumatic apparatus which he contrived, afterwards using it to perform the duties of an air-pump in one of his experiments on the nature and sources of heat. In like manner Professor Faraday, Sir Humphry Davy's scientific succe made his first experiments in electricity by means of an old bottle, wh was still a working bookbinder. And it is a curious fact that Faraday w first attracted to the study of chemistry by hearing one of Sir Humphr Davy's lectures on the subject at the Royal Institution. A gentleman, w was a member, calling one day at the shop where Faraday was employ binding books, found him poring over the article "Electricity" in an Encyclopaedia placed in his hands to bind. The gentleman, having ma inquiries, found that the young bookbinder was curious about such su and gave him an order of admission to the Royal Institution, where he attended a course of four lectures delivered by Sir Humphry. He took of them, which he showed to the lecturer, who acknowledged their scientific accuracy, and was surprised when informed of the humble position of the reporter. Faraday then expressed his desire to devote h to the prosecution of chemical studies, from which Sir Humphry at fir endeavoured to dissuade him: but the young man persisting, he was a CHAPTER V 103 length taken into the Royal Institution as an assistant; and eventually the mantle of the brilliant apothecary's boy fell upon the worthy shoulders of the equally brilliant bookbinder's apprentice. The words which Davy entered in his note-book, when about twenty ye of age, working in Dr. Beddoes' laboratory at Bristol, were eminently characteristic of him: "I have neither riches, nor power, nor birth to recommend me; yet if I live, I trust I shall not be of less service to man and my friends, than if I had been born with all these advantages." Da possessed the capability, as Faraday does, of devoting the whole powe his mind to the practical and experimental investigation of a subject in its bearings; and such a mind will rarely fail, by dint of mere industry patient thinking, in producing results of the highest order. Coleridge s Davy, "There is an energy and elasticity in his mind, which enables him seize on and analyze all questions, pushing them to their legitimate consequences. Every subject in Davy's mind has the principle of vitalit Living thoughts spring up like turf under his feet." Davy, on his part, s of Coleridge, whose abilities he greatly admired, "With the most exalte genius, enlarged views, sensitive heart, and enlightened mind, he will the victim of a want of order, precision, and regularity." The great Cuvier was a singularly accurate, careful, and industrious observer. When a boy, he was attracted to the subject of natural histor the sight of a volume of Buffon which accidentally fell in his way. He a once proceeded to copy the drawings, and to colour them after the descriptions given in the text. While still at school, one of his teachers made him a present of 'Linnaeus's System of Nature;' and for more th years this constituted his library of natural history. At eighteen he was offered the situation of tutor in a family residing near Fecamp, in Normandy. Living close to the sea-shore, he was brought face to face w the wonders of marine life. Strolling along the sands one day, he obser stranded cuttlefish. He was attracted by the curious object, took it hom dissect, and thus began the study of the molluscae, in the pursuit of w he achieved so distinguished a reputation. He had no books to refer to excepting only the great book of Nature which lay open before him. Th study of the novel and interesting objects which it daily presented to h CHAPTER V 104 eyes made a much deeper impression on his mind than any written or engraved descriptions could possibly have done. Three years thus pas during which he compared the living species of marine animals with t fossil remains found in the neighbourhood, dissected the specimens o marine life that came under his notice, and, by careful observation, prepared the way for a complete reform in the classification of the ani kingdom. About this time Cuvier became known to the learned Abbe Teissier, who wrote to Jussieu and other friends in Paris on the subject the young naturalist's inquiries, in terms of such high commendation, Cuvier was requested to send some of his papers to the Society of Nat History; and he was shortly after appointed assistant- superintendent Jardin des Plantes. In the letter written by Teissier to Jussieu, introduc the young naturalist to his notice, he said, "You remember that it was gave Delambre to the Academy in another branch of science: this also be a Delambre." We need scarcely add that the prediction of Teissier w more than fulfilled. It is not accident, then, that helps a man in the world so much as purp and persistent industry. To the feeble, the sluggish and purposeless, th happiest accidents avail nothing,--they pass them by, seeing no meanin them. But it is astonishing how much can be accomplished if we are p to seize and improve the opportunities for action and effort which are constantly presenting themselves. Watt taught himself chemistry and mechanics while working at his trade of a mathematical-instrument m at the same time that he was learning German from a Swiss dyer. Stephenson taught himself arithmetic and mensuration while working engineman during the night shifts; and when he could snatch a few moments in the intervals allowed for meals during the day, he worked sums with a bit of chalk upon the sides of the colliery waggons. Dalton industry was the habit of his life. He began from his boyhood, for he ta a little village-school when he was only about twelve years old,--keepin the school in winter, and working upon his father's farm in summer. H would sometimes urge himself and companions to study by the stimul a bet, though bred a Quaker; and on one occasion, by his satisfactory solution of a problem, he won as much as enabled him to buy a winter store of candles. He continued his meteorological observations until a CHAPTER V 105 or two before he died,--having made and recorded upwards of 200,000 the course of his life. With perseverance, the very odds and ends of time may be worked up results of the greatest value. An hour in every day withdrawn from frivolous pursuits would, if profitably employed, enable a person of ordinary capacity to go far towards mastering a science. It would mak ignorant man a well-informed one in less than ten years. Time should be allowed to pass without yielding fruits, in the form of something lea worthy of being known, some good principle cultivated, or some good strengthened. Dr. Mason Good translated Lucretius while riding in his carriage in the streets of London, going the round of his patients. Dr. Darwin composed nearly all his works in the same way while driving a in his "sulky" from house to house in the country,--writing down his thoughts on little scraps of paper, which he carried about with him for purpose. Hale wrote his 'Contemplations' while travelling on circuit. D Burney learnt French and Italian while travelling on horseback from o musical pupil to another in the course of his profession. Kirke White le Greek while walking to and from a lawyer's office; and we personally k a man of eminent position who learnt Latin and French while going messages as an errand-boy in the streets of Manchester. Daguesseau, one of the great Chancellors of France, by carefully work up his odd bits of time, wrote a bulky and able volume in the successiv intervals of waiting for dinner, and Madame de Genlis composed sever her charming volumes while waiting for the princess to whom she gav daily lessons. Elihu Burritt attributed his first success in self-improvem not to genius, which he disclaimed, but simply to the careful employm of those invaluable fragments of time, called "odd moments." While working and earning his living as a blacksmith, he mastered some eig ancient and modern languages, and twenty-two European dialects. What a solemn and striking admonition to youth is that inscribed on th at All Souls, Oxford--"Pereunt et imputantur"--the hours perish, and ar laid to our charge. Time is the only little fragment of Eternity that belo to man; and, like life, it can never be recalled. "In the dissipation of w CHAPTER V 106 treasure," says Jackson of Exeter, "the frugality of the future may bala the extravagance of the past; but who can say, 'I will take from minute to-morrow to compensate for those I have lost to-day'?" Melancthon n down the time lost by him, that he might thereby reanimate his indust and not lose an hour. An Italian scholar put over his door an inscriptio intimating that whosoever remained there should join in his labours. " are afraid," said some visitors to Baxter, "that we break in upon your t "To be sure you do," replied the disturbed and blunt divine. Time was estate out of which these great workers, and all other workers, formed rich treasury of thoughts and deeds which they have left to their succ The mere drudgery undergone by some men in carrying on their undertakings has been something extraordinary, but the drudgery the regarded as the price of success. Addison amassed as much as three f of manuscript materials before he began his 'Spectator.' Newton wrot 'Chronology' fifteen times over before he was satisfied with it; and Gib wrote out his 'Memoir' nine times. Hale studied for many years at the of sixteen hours a day, and when wearied with the study of the law, he would recreate himself with philosophy and the study of the mathema Hume wrote thirteen hours a day while preparing his 'History of Engla Montesquieu, speaking of one part of his writings, said to a friend, "Yo will read it in a few hours; but I assure you it has cost me so much lab that it has whitened my hair." The practice of writing down thoughts and facts for the purpose of ho them fast and preventing their escape into the dim region of forgetful has been much resorted to by thoughtful and studious men. Lord Baco behind him many manuscripts entitled "Sudden thoughts set down for Erskine made great extracts from Burke; and Eldon copied Coke upon Littleton twice over with his own hand, so that the book became, as it part of his own mind. The late Dr. Pye Smith, when apprenticed to his father as a bookbinder, was accustomed to make copious memoranda the books he read, with extracts and criticisms. This indomitable indu collecting materials distinguished him through life, his biographer describing him as "always at work, always in advance, always accumulating." These note-books afterwards proved, like Richter's CHAPTER V 107 "quarries," the great storehouse from which he drew his illustrations. The same practice characterized the eminent John Hunter, who adopt for the purpose of supplying the defects of memory; and he was accustomed thus to illustrate the advantages which one derives from p one's thoughts in writing: "It resembles," he said, "a tradesman taking stock, without which he never knows either what he possesses or in w is deficient." John Hunter- -whose observation was so keen that Abern was accustomed to speak of him as "the Argus-eyed"--furnished an illustrious example of the power of patient industry. He received little education till he was about twenty years of age, and it was with difficu that he acquired the arts of reading and writing. He worked for some as a common carpenter at Glasgow, after which he joined his brother William, who had settled in London as a lecturer and anatomical demonstrator. John entered his dissecting- room as an assistant, but s shot ahead of his brother, partly by virtue of his great natural ability, b mainly by reason of his patient application and indefatigable industry. was one of the first in this country to devote himself assiduously to the study of comparative anatomy, and the objects he dissected and collec took the eminent Professor Owen no less than ten years to arrange. Th collection contains some twenty thousand specimens, and is the most precious treasure of the kind that has ever been accumulated by the i of one man. Hunter used to spend every morning from sunrise until ei o'clock in his museum; and throughout the day he carried on his exten private practice, performed his laborious duties as surgeon to St. Geo Hospital and deputy surgeon-general to the army; delivered lectures t students, and superintended a school of practical anatomy at his own finding leisure, amidst all, for elaborate experiments on the animal economy, and the composition of various works of great scientific importance. To find time for this gigantic amount of work, he allowed himself only four hours of sleep at night, and an hour after dinner. Wh once asked what method he had adopted to insure success in his undertakings, he replied, "My rule is, deliberately to consider, before commence, whether the thing be practicable. If it be not practicable, I not attempt it. If it be practicable, I can accomplish it if I give sufficien pains to it; and having begun, I never stop till the thing is done. To thi CHAPTER V 108 I owe all my success." Hunter occupied a great deal of his time in collecting definite facts respecting matters which, before his day, were regarded as exceeding trivial. Thus it was supposed by many of his contemporaries that he w only wasting his time and thought in studying so carefully as he did th growth of a deer's horn. But Hunter was impressed with the convictio no accurate knowledge of scientific facts is without its value. By the st referred to, he learnt how arteries accommodate themselves to circumstances, and enlarge as occasion requires; and the knowledge t acquired emboldened him, in a case of aneurism in a branch artery, to the main trunk where no surgeon before him had dared to tie it, and t of his patient was saved. Like many original men, he worked for a long time as it were underground, digging and laying foundations. He was solitary and self-reliant genius, holding on his course without the sola sympathy or approbation,--for but few of his contemporaries perceived ultimate object of his pursuits. But like all true workers, he did not fai securing his best reward--that which depends less upon others than u one's self--the approval of conscience, which in a right-minded man invariably follows the honest and energetic performance of duty. Ambrose Pare, the great French surgeon, was another illustrious insta close observation, patient application, and indefatigable perseverance was the son of a barber at Laval, in Maine, where he was born in 1509 parents were too poor to send him to school, but they placed him as foot-boy with the cure of the village, hoping that under that learned m might pick up an education for himself. But the cure kept him so busil employed in grooming his mule and in other menial offices that the bo found no time for learning. While in his service, it happened that the celebrated lithotomist, Cotot, came to Laval to operate on one of the c ecclesiastical brethren. Pare was present at the operation, and was so interested by it that he is said to have from that time formed the determination of devoting himself to the art of surgery. Leaving the cure's household service, Pare apprenticed himself to a barber-surgeon named Vialot, under whom he learnt to let blood, draw CHAPTER V 109 teeth, and perform the minor operations. After four years' experience kind, he went to Paris to study at the school of anatomy and surgery, meanwhile maintaining himself by his trade of a barber. He afterward succeeded in obtaining an appointment as assistant at the Hotel Dieu, his conduct was so exemplary, and his progress so marked, that the ch surgeon, Goupil, entrusted him with the charge of the patients whom could not himself attend to. After the usual course of instruction, Pare admitted a master barber-surgeon, and shortly after was appointed to charge with the French army under Montmorenci in Piedmont. Pare w not a man to follow in the ordinary ruts of his profession, but brought resources of an ardent and original mind to bear upon his daily work, diligently thinking out for himself the rationale of diseases and their befitting remedies. Before his time the wounded suffered much more hands of their surgeons than they did at those of their enemies. To sto bleeding from gunshot wounds, the barbarous expedient was resorted dressing them with boiling oil. Haemorrhage was also stopped by sear the wounds with a red-hot iron; and when amputation was necessary, performed with a red-hot knife. At first Pare treated wounds according the approved methods; but, fortunately, on one occasion, running shor boiling oil, he substituted a mild and emollient application. He was in fear all night lest he should have done wrong in adopting this treatme was greatly relieved next morning on finding his patients comparative comfortable, while those whose wounds had been treated in the usual were writhing in torment. Such was the casual origin of one of Pare's greatest improvements in the treatment of gun-shot wounds; and he proceeded to adopt the emollient treatment in all future cases. Anothe more important improvement was his employment of the ligature in ty arteries to stop haemorrhage, instead of the actual cautery. Pare, how met with the usual fate of innovators and reformers. His practice was denounced by his surgical brethren as dangerous, unprofessional, and empirical; and the older surgeons banded themselves together to resi adoption. They reproached him for his want of education, more especi for his ignorance of Latin and Greek; and they assailed him with quota from ancient writers, which he was unable either to verify or refute. B best answer to his assailants was the success of his practice. The wou soldiers called out everywhere for Pare, and he was always at their se CHAPTER V 110 he tended them carefully and affectionately; and he usually took leave them with the words, "I have dressed you; may God cure you." After three years' active service as army-surgeon, Pare returned to Pa with such a reputation that he was at once appointed surgeon in ordin the King. When Metz was besieged by the Spanish army, under Charle the garrison suffered heavy loss, and the number of wounded was ver great. The surgeons were few and incompetent, and probably slew mo their bad treatment than the Spaniards did by the sword. The Duke of Guise, who commanded the garrison, wrote to the King imploring him send Pare to his help. The courageous surgeon at once set out, and, af braving many dangers (to use his own words, "d'estre pendu, estrangl mis en pieces"), he succeeded in passing the enemy's lines, and entere Metz in safety. The Duke, the generals, and the captains gave him an affectionate welcome; while the soldiers, when they heard of his arriv cried, "We no longer fear dying of our wounds; our friend is among us the following year Pare was in like manner with the besieged in the to Hesdin, which shortly fell before the Duke of Savoy, and he was taken prisoner. But having succeeded in curing one of the enemy's chief offi of a serious wound, he was discharged without ransom, and returned safety to Paris. The rest of his life was occupied in study, in self-improvement, in piety and in good deeds. Urged by some of the most learned among his contemporaries, he placed on record the results of his surgical experi in twenty-eight books, which were published by him at different times writings are valuable and remarkable chiefly on account of the great number of facts and cases contained in them, and the care with which avoids giving any directions resting merely upon theory unsupported observation. Pare continued, though a Protestant, to hold the office of surgeon in ordinary to the King; and during the Massacre of St. Bartholomew he owed his life to the personal friendship of Charles IX whom he had on one occasion saved from the dangerous effects of a w inflicted by a clumsy surgeon in performing the operation of venesecti Brantome, in his 'Memoires,' thus speaks of the King's rescue of Pare night of Saint Bartholomew--"He sent to fetch him, and to remain duri CHAPTER V 111 the night in his chamber and wardrobe-room, commanding him not to and saying that it was not reasonable that a man who had preserved t lives of so many people should himself be massacred." Thus Pare esca the horrors of that fearful night, which he survived for many years, an permitted to die in peace, full of age and honours. Harvey was as indefatigable a labourer as any we have named. He spe less than eight long years of investigation and research before he pub his views of the circulation of the blood. He repeated and verified his experiments again and again, probably anticipating the opposition he have to encounter from the profession on making known his discovery tract in which he at length announced his views, was a most modest one,--but simple, perspicuous, and conclusive. It was nevertheless rec with ridicule, as the utterance of a crack-brained impostor. For some t he did not make a single convert, and gained nothing but contumely a abuse. He had called in question the revered authority of the ancients was even averred that his views were calculated to subvert the author the Scriptures and undermine the very foundations of morality and re His little practice fell away, and he was left almost without a friend. Th lasted for some years, until the great truth, held fast by Harvey amids his adversity, and which had dropped into many thoughtful minds, gradually ripened by further observation, and after a period of about twenty-five years, it became generally recognised as an established scientific truth. The difficulties encountered by Dr. Jenner in promulgating and establi his discovery of vaccination as a preventive of small- pox, were even greater than those of Harvey. Many, before him, had witnessed the cow-pox, and had heard of the report current among the milkmaids in Gloucestershire, that whoever had taken that disease was secure agai small-pox. It was a trifling, vulgar rumour, supposed to have no significance whatever; and no one had thought it worthy of investigati until it was accidentally brought under the notice of Jenner. He was a youth, pursuing his studies at Sodbury, when his attention was arreste the casual observation made by a country girl who came to his master shop for advice. The small-pox was mentioned, when the girl said, "I c CHAPTER V 112 take that disease, for I have had cow-pox." The observation immediate riveted Jenner's attention, and he forthwith set about inquiring and m observations on the subject. His professional friends, to whom he mentioned his views as to the prophylactic virtues of cow-pox, laughed him, and even threatened to expel him from their society, if he persist harassing them with the subject. In London he was so fortunate as to under John Hunter, to whom he communicated his views. The advice o great anatomist was thoroughly characteristic: "Don't think, but TRY; patient, be accurate." Jenner's courage was supported by the advice, w conveyed to him the true art of philosophical investigation. He went b the country to practise his profession and make observations and experiments, which he continued to pursue for a period of twenty yea 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 o about seventy pages, in which he gave the details of twenty-three case successful vaccination of individuals, to whom it was found afterwards impossible to communicate the small-pox either by contagion or inoculation. It was in 1798 that this treatise was published; though he been working out his ideas since the year 1775, when they had begun assume a definite form. How was the discovery received? First with indifference, then with ac hostility. Jenner proceeded to London to exhibit to the profession the process of vaccination and its results; but not a single medical man co induced to make trial of it, and after fruitlessly waiting for nearly thre months, he returned to his native village. He was even caricatured an abused for his attempt to "bestialize" his species by the introduction in their systems of diseased matter from the cow's udder. Vaccination wa denounced from the pulpit as "diabolical." It was averred that vaccina children became "ox-faced," that abscesses broke out to "indicate spro horns," and that the countenance was gradually "transmuted into the of a cow, the voice into the bellowing of bulls." Vaccination, however, w 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 permitted themselves to be vaccinated absolutely pelted and driven into their houses if they appeared out of CHAPTER V 113 Two ladies of title--Lady Ducie and the Countess of Berkeley--to their honour be it remembered--had the courage to vaccinate their children the prejudices of the day were at once broken through. The medical profession gradually came round, and there were several who even so to rob Dr. Jenner of the merit of the discovery, when its importance ca be recognised. Jenner's cause at last triumphed, and he was publicly honoured and rewarded. In his prosperity he was as modest as he had in his obscurity. He was invited to settle in London, and told that he m command a practice of 10,000l. a year. But his answer was, "No! In th morning of my days I have sought the sequestered and lowly paths of life--the valley, and not the mountain,--and now, in the evening of my d it is not meet for me to hold myself up as an object for fortune and for fame." During Jenner's own life-time the practice of vaccination becam adopted all over the civilized world; and when he died, his title as a Benefactor of his kind was recognised far and wide. Cuvier has said, " vaccine were the only discovery of the epoch, it would serve to render illustrious for ever; yet it knocked twenty times in vain at the doors of Academies." Not less patient, resolute, and persevering was Sir Charles Bell in the prosecution of his discoveries relating to the nervous system. Previous his time, the most confused notions prevailed as to the functions of th nerves, and this branch of study was little more advanced than it had in the times of Democritus and Anaxagoras three thousand years befo Charles Bell, in the valuable series of papers the publication of which commenced in 1821, took an entirely original view of the subject, base upon a long series of careful, accurate, and oft-repeated experiments. Elaborately tracing the development of the nervous system up from th lowest order of animated being, to man--the lord of the animal kingdom,--he displayed it, to use his own words, "as plainly as if it wer written in our mother-tongue." His discovery consisted in the fact, tha spinal nerves are double in their function, and arise by double roots fr the spinal marrow,--volition being conveyed by that part of the nerves springing from the one root, and sensation by the other. The subject occupied the mind of Sir Charles Bell for a period of forty years, when 1840, he laid his last paper before the Royal Society. As in the cases o CHAPTER V 114 Harvey and Jenner, when he had lived down the ridicule and oppositio with which his views were first received, and their truth came to be recognised, numerous claims for priority in making the discovery wer up at home and abroad. Like them, too, he lost practice by the publica of his papers; and he left it on record that, after every step in his disco he was obliged to work harder than ever to preserve his reputation as practitioner. The great merits of Sir Charles Bell were, however, at len fully recognised; and Cuvier himself, when on his death-bed, finding h face distorted and drawn to one side, pointed out the symptom to his attendants as a proof of the correctness of Sir Charles Bell's theory. An equally devoted pursuer of the same branch of science was the late Marshall Hall, whose name posterity will rank with those of Harvey, Hunter, Jenner, and Bell. During the whole course of his long and usef life he was a most careful and minute observer; and no fact, however apparently insignificant, escaped his attention. His important discover the diastaltic nervous system, by which his name will long be known amongst scientific men, originated in an exceedingly simple circumsta When investigating the pneumonic circulation in the Triton, the decap object lay upon the table; and on separating the tail and accidentally pricking the external integument, he observed that it moved with ener and became contorted into various forms. He had not touched a musc muscular nerve; what then was the nature of these movements? The s phenomena had probably been often observed before, but Dr. Hall wa first to apply himself perseveringly to the investigation of their causes he exclaimed on the occasion, "I will never rest satisfied until I have fo 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 n less than 25,000 hours to its experimental and chemical investigation. was at the same time carrying on an extensive private practice, and officiating as lecturer at St. Thomas's Hospital and other Medical Sch It will scarcely be credited that the paper in which he embodied his discovery was rejected by the Royal Society, and was only accepted af the lapse of seventeen years, when the truth of his views had become acknowledged by scientific men both at home and abroad. CHAPTER V 115 The life of Sir William Herschel affords another remarkable illustratio the force of perseverance in another branch of science. His father was poor German musician, who brought up his four sons to the same call William came over to England to seek his fortune, and he joined the b of the Durham Militia, in which he played the oboe. The regiment was lying at Doncaster, where Dr. Miller first became acquainted with Her having heard him perform a solo on the violin in a surprising manner. Doctor entered into conversation with the youth, and was so pleased w him, that he urged him to leave the militia and take up his residence a house for a time. Herschel did so, and while at Doncaster was principa occupied in violin-playing at concerts, availing himself of the advantag Dr. Miller's library to study at his leisure hours. A new organ having b built for the parish church of Halifax, an organist was advertised for, o which Herschel applied for the office, and was selected. Leading the wandering life of an artist, he was next attracted to Bath, where he pl in the Pump-room band, and also officiated as organist in the Octagon chapel. Some recent discoveries in astronomy having arrested his min awakened in him a powerful spirit of curiosity, he sought and obtained from a friend the loan of a two- foot Gregorian telescope. So fascinate the poor musician by the science, that he even thought of purchasing telescope, but the price asked by the London optician was so alarming he determined to make one. Those who know what a reflecting telesco and the skill which is required to prepare the concave metallic specul which forms the most important part of the apparatus, will be able to some idea of the difficulty of this undertaking. Nevertheless, Herschel succeeded, after long and painful labour, in completing a five-foot refl with which he had the gratification of observing the ring and satellites Saturn. Not satisfied with his 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 t was applied to it,--a striking instance of the persevering laboriousness the man. While gauging the heavens with his instruments, he continue patiently to earn his bread by piping to the fashionable frequenters of Pump-room. So eager was he in his astronomical observations, that he would steal away from the room during an interval of the performance CHAPTER V 116 a little turn at his telescope, and contentedly return to his oboe. Thus working away, Herschel discovered the Georgium Sidus, the orbit and of motion of which he carefully calculated, and sent the result to the R Society; when the humble oboe player found himself at once elevated obscurity to fame. He was shortly after appointed Astronomer Royal, a by the kindness of George III. was placed in a position of honourable competency for life. He bore his honours 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 follow science under difficulties, perhaps cannot be found in the entire histor biography. The career of William Smith, the father of English geology, though per less known, is not less interesting and instructive as an example of pa and laborious effort, and the diligent cultivation of opportunities. He w born in 1769, the son of a yeoman farmer at Churchill, in Oxfordshire. father dying when he was but a child, he received a very sparing educ at the village school, and even that was to a considerable extent interf 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, als farmer, by whom he was brought up. Though the uncle was by no mea pleased with the boy's love of wandering about, collecting "poundston "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 destined for the business of a land-surveyor. One of his marked characteristics, even as a youth, was accuracy and keenness of his observation; and what he once clearly sa never forgot. He began to draw, attempted to colour, and practised th of mensuration and surveying, all without regular instruction; and by efforts in self-culture, he shortly became so proficient, that he was tak as assistant to a local surveyor of ability in the neighbourhood. In carr on his business he was constantly under the necessity of traversing Oxfordshire and the adjoining counties. One of the first things he serio pondered over, was the position of the various soils and strata that cam under his notice on the lands which he surveyed or travelled over; mo CHAPTER V 117 especially the position of the red earth in regard to the lias and superincumbent rocks. The surveys of numerous collieries which he w called upon to make, gave him further experience; and already, when twenty-three years of age, he contemplated making a model of the str the earth. While engaged in levelling for a proposed canal in Gloucestershire, th of a general law occurred to him relating to the strata of that district. conceived that the strata lying above the coal were not laid horizontal inclined, and in one direction, towards the east; resembling, on a larg scale, "the ordinary appearance of superposed slices of bread and but The correctness of this theory he shortly after confirmed by observatio the strata in two parallel valleys, the "red ground," "lias," and "freesto "oolite," being found to come down in an eastern direction, and to sink below the level, yielding place to the next in succession. He was short enabled to verify the truth of his views on a larger scale, having been appointed to examine personally into the management of canals in En and Wales. During his journeys, which extended from Bath to Newcas on-Tyne, returning by Shropshire and Wales, his keen eyes were never for a moment. He rapidly noted the aspect and structure of the countr through which he passed with his companions, treasuring up his observations for future use. His geologic vision was so acute, that tho the road along which he passed from York to Newcastle in the post ch was from five to fifteen miles distant from the hills of chalk and oolite the east, he was satisfied as to their nature, by their contours and rela position, and their ranges on the surface in relation to the lias and "re ground" occasionally seen on the road. The general results of his observation seem to have been these. He no that the rocky masses of country in the western parts of England gene inclined to the east and south-east; that the red sandstones and marls the coal measures passed beneath the lias, clay, and limestone, that th again passed beneath the sands, yellow limestones and clays, forming table-land of the Cotswold Hills, while these in turn passed beneath th great chalk deposits occupying the eastern parts of England. He furth observed, that each layer of clay, sand, and limestone held its own pec CHAPTER V 118 classes of fossils; and pondering much on these things, he at length ca the then unheard-of conclusion, that each distinct deposit of marine animals, in these several strata, indicated a distinct sea-bottom, and t each layer of clay, sand, chalk, and stone, marked a distinct epoch of t in the history of the earth. This idea took firm possession of his mind, and he could talk and think nothing else. At canal boards, at sheep-shearings, at county meetings, at agricultural associations, 'Strata Smith,' as he came to be called, w always running over with the subject that possessed him. He had inde made a great discovery, though he was as yet a man utterly unknown scientific world. He proceeded to project a map of the stratification of England; but was for some time deterred from proceeding with it, bein fully occupied in carrying out the works of the Somersetshire coal can which engaged him for a period of about six years. He continued, nevertheless, to be unremitting in his observation of facts; and he bec so expert in apprehending the internal structure of a district and dete the lie of the strata from its external configuration, that he was often consulted respecting the drainage of extensive tracts of land, in which guided by his geological knowledge, he proved remarkably successful acquired an extensive reputation. One day, when looking over the cabinet collection of fossils belonging the Rev. Samuel Richardson, at Bath, Smith astonished his friend by suddenly disarranging his classification, and re- arranging the fossils their stratigraphical order, saying-- "These came from the blue lias, th from the over-lying sand and freestone, these from the fuller's earth, a 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 Smith's doctrine. The geologists of the day were not, however easily convinced; and it was scarcely to be tolerated that an unknown land-surveyor should pretend to teach them the science of geology. Bu William Smith had an eye and mind to penetrate deep beneath the ski the earth; he saw its very fibre and skeleton, and, as it were, divined i organization. His knowledge of the strata in the neighbourhood of Bat so accurate, that one evening, when dining at the house of the Rev. Jo CHAPTER V 119 Townsend, he dictated to Mr. Richardson the different strata accordin their order of succession in descending order, twenty-three in number commencing with the chalk and descending in continuous series down the coal, below which the strata were not then sufficiently determined this was added a list of the more remarkable fossils which had been gathered in the several layers of rock. This was printed and extensive circulated in 1801. He next determined to trace out the strata through districts as remote Bath as his means would enable him to reach. For years he journeyed and fro, sometimes on foot, sometimes on horseback, riding on the top stage coaches, often making up by night- travelling the time he had lo day, so as not to fail in his ordinary business engagements. When he w professionally called away to any distance from home--as, for instance when travelling from Bath to Holkham, in Norfolk, to direct the irrigat and drainage of Mr. Coke's land in that county--he rode on horseback, making frequent detours from the road to note the geological features country which he traversed. For several years he was thus engaged in his journeys to distant quart England and Ireland, to the extent of upwards of ten thousand miles y and it was amidst this incessant and laborious travelling, that he cont to commit to paper his fast-growing generalizations on what he rightly regarded as a new science. No observation, howsoever trivial it might appear, was neglected, and no opportunity of collecting fresh facts wa overlooked. Whenever he could, he possessed himself of records of borings, natural and artificial sections, drew them to a constant scale eight yards to the inch, and coloured them up. Of his keenness of observation take the following illustration. When making one of his geological excursions about the country near Woburn, as he was draw near to the foot of the Dunstable chalk hills, he observed to his compa "If there be any broken ground about the foot of these hills, we may fi SHARK'S TEETH;" and they had not proceeded far, before they picked 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 mind, became a constant associate of my life, and started up in activit CHAPTER V 120 the first thought of a journey; so that I generally went off well prepare with maps, and sometimes with contemplations on its objects, or on th 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 b impressions." Notwithstanding his courageous and indefatigable industry, many circumstances contributed to prevent the promised publication of Will Smith's 'Map of the Strata of England and Wales,' and it was not until that he was enabled, by the assistance of some friends, to give to the w the fruits of his twenty years' incessant labour. To prosecute his inquir and collect the extensive series of facts and observations requisite for purpose, he had to expend the whole of the profits of his professional labours during that period; and he even sold off his small property to provide the means of visiting remoter parts of the island. Meanwhile h entered on a quarrying speculation near Bath, which proved unsucces and he was under the necessity of selling his geological collection (wh was purchased by the British Museum), his furniture and library, rese only his papers, maps, and sections, which were useless save to himse bore his losses and misfortunes with exemplary fortitude; and amidst went on working with cheerful courage and untiring patience. He died Northampton, in August, 1839, while on his way to attend the meeting the British Association at Birmingham. It is difficult to speak in terms of too high praise of the first geological of England, which we owe to the industry of this courageous man of science. An accomplished writer says of it, "It was a work so masterly conception and so correct in general outline, that in principle it served basis not only for the production of later maps of the British Islands, b geological maps of all other parts of the world, wherever they have be undertaken. In the apartments of the Geological Society Smith's map yet be seen--a great historical document, old and worn, calling for ren of its faded tints. Let any one conversant with the subject compare it w later works on a similar scale, and he will find that in all essential feat it will not suffer by the comparison--the intricate anatomy of the Siluri rocks of Wales and the north of England by Murchison and Sedgwick b CHAPTER V 121 the chief additions made to his great generalizations." {20} The geniu the Oxfordshire surveyor did not fail to be duly recognised and honou by men of science during his lifetime. In 1831 the Geological Society o London awarded to him the Wollaston medal, "in consideration of his b a great original discoverer in English geology, and especially for his b the first in this country to discover and to teach the identification of st and to determine their succession by means of their imbedded fossils. William Smith, in his simple, earnest way, gained for himself a name a lasting as the science he loved so well. To use the words of the writer 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 a discovery can be made in geology equal in value to that which we owe the genius of William Smith." Hugh Miller was a man of like observant faculties, who studied literat well as science with zeal and success. The book in which he has told t story of his life, ('My Schools and Schoolmasters'), is extremely intere and calculated to be eminently useful. It is the history of the formation truly noble character in the humblest condition of life; and inculcates powerfully the lessons of self-help, self-respect, and self- dependence. While Hugh was but a child, his father, who was a sailor, was drowned sea, and he was brought up by his widowed mother. He had a school training after a sort, but his best teachers were the boys with whom h played, the men amongst whom he worked, the friends and relatives w whom he lived. He read much and miscellaneously, and picked up odd sorts of knowledge from many quarters,--from workmen, carpenters, fishermen and sailors, and above all, from the old boulders strewed al the shores of the Cromarty Frith. With a big hammer which had belon to his great- grandfather, an old buccaneer, the boy went about chippi stones, and accumulating specimens of mica, porphyry, garnet, and su like. Sometimes he had a day in the woods, and there, too, the boy's attention was excited by the peculiar geological curiosities which cam his way. While searching among the rocks on the beach, he was somet asked, in 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 unl as never to be able to answer in the affirmative. When of a suitable ag CHAPTER V 122 was apprenticed to the trade of his choice--that of a working stonemas and he began his labouring career in a quarry looking out upon the Cromarty Frith. This quarry proved one of his best schools. The remar geological formations which it displayed awakened his curiosity. The b deep-red stone beneath, and the bar of pale-red clay above, were note the young quarryman, who even in such unpromising subjects found m for observation and reflection. Where other men saw nothing, he dete 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 the secret of his intellectual growth. His curiosity was excited and kept alive by the curious organic remain principally of old and extinct species of fishes, ferns, and ammonites, which were revealed along the coast by the washings of the waves, or exposed by the stroke of his mason's hammer. He never lost sight of th subject; but went on accumulating observations and comparing forma until at length, many years afterwards, when no longer a working mas gave to the world his highly interesting work on the Old Red Sandston which at once established his reputation as a scientific geologist. But work was the fruit of long years of patient observation and research. A modestly states in his autobiography, "the only merit to which I lay cla the case is that of patient research- -a merit in which whoever wills m rival or surpass me; and this humble faculty of patience, when rightly developed, may lead to more extraordinary developments of idea than genius itself." The late John Brown, the eminent English geologist, was, like Miller, a stonemason in his early life, serving an apprenticeship to the trade at Colchester, and afterwards working as a journeyman mason at Norwic began business as a builder on his own account at Colchester, where b frugality and industry he secured a competency. It was while working trade that his attention was first drawn to the study of fossils and shel he proceeded to make a collection of them, which afterwards grew int of the finest in England. His researches along the coasts of Essex, Ken Sussex brought to light some magnificent remains of the elephant and rhinoceros, the most valuable of which were presented by him to the B CHAPTER V 123 Museum. During the last few years of his life he devoted considerable attention to the study of the Foraminifera in chalk, respecting which h made several interesting discoveries. His life was useful, happy, and honoured; and he died at Stanway, in Essex, in November 1859, at the age of eighty years. Not long ago, Sir Roderick Murchison discovered at Thurso, in the far north of Scotland, a profound geologist, in the person of a baker there named Robert Dick. When Sir Roderick called upon him at the bakeho in which he baked and earned his bread, Robert Dick delineated to him means of flour upon the board, the geographical features and geologic phenomena of his native county, pointing out the imperfections in the existing maps, which he had ascertained by travelling over the countr his leisure hours. On further inquiry, Sir Roderick ascertained that the humble individual before him was not only a capital baker and geolog but a first-rate botanist. "I found," said the President of the Geographi Society, "to my great humiliation that the baker knew infinitely more o botanical science, ay, ten times more, than I did; and that there were o some twenty or thirty specimens of flowers which he had not collected Some he had obtained as presents, some he had purchased, but the gr portion had been accumulated by his industry, in his native county of Caithness; and the specimens were all arranged in the most beautiful with their scientific names affixed." Sir Roderick Murchison himself is an illustrious follower of these and kindred branches of science. A writer in the 'Quarterly Review' cites h a "singular instance of a man who, having passed the early part of his a soldier, never having had the advantage, or disadvantage as the case might have been, of a scientific training, instead of remaining a fox-hu country gentleman, has succeeded by his own native vigour and sagac untiring industry and zeal, in making for himself a scientific reputatio is as wide as it is likely to be lasting. He took first of all an unexplored difficult district at home, and, by the labour of many years, examined rock-formations, classed them in natural groups, assigned to each its characteristic assemblage of fossils, and was the first to decipher two chapters in the world's geological history, which must always hencefo CHAPTER VI 124 carry his name on their title-page. Not only so, but he applied the knowledge thus acquired to the dissection of large districts, both at ho and abroad, so as to become the geological discoverer of great countr which had formerly been 'terrae incognitae.'" But Sir Roderick Murch is not merely a geologist. His indefatigable labours in many branches knowledge have contributed to render him among the most accomplis and complete of scientific men. CHAPTER VI --WORKERS IN ART "If what shone afar so grand, Turn to nothing in thy hand, On again; th virtue lies In struggle, not the prize."--R. M. Milnes. "Excelle, et tu vivras."--Joubert. Excellence in art, as in everything else, can only be achieved by dint o painstaking labour. There is nothing less accidental than the painting of a fine picture or t chiselling of a noble statue. Every skilled touch of the artist's brush or chisel, though guided by genius, is the product of unremitting study. Sir Joshua Reynolds was such a believer in the force of industry, that h held that artistic excellence, "however expressed by genius, taste, or t 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 h mind to bear upon that one object from the moment that he rises till h to bed." And on another occasion he said, "Those who are resolved to must go to their work, willing or unwilling, morning, noon, and night: will find it no play, but very hard labour." But although diligent applica is no doubt absolutely necessary for the achievement of the highest distinction in art, it is equally true that without the inborn genius, no amount of mere industry, however well applied, will make an artist. Th gift comes by nature, but is perfected by self-culture, which is of more CHAPTER VI 125 than all the imparted education of the schools. Some of the greatest artists have had to force their way upward in the of poverty and manifold obstructions. Illustrious instances will at once upon the reader's mind. Claude Lorraine, the pastrycook; Tintoretto, t dyer; the two Caravaggios, the one a colour-grinder, the other a mortar-carrier at the Vatican; Salvator Rosa, the associate of bandits; Giotto, the peasant boy; Zingaro, the gipsy; Cavedone, turned out of d to beg by his father; Canova, the stone-cutter; these, and many other well-known artists, succeeded in achieving distinction by severe study labour, under circumstances the most adverse. Nor have the most distinguished artists of our own country been born position of life more than ordinarily favourable to the culture of artisti genius. Gainsborough and Bacon were the sons of cloth-workers; Barr was an Irish sailor boy, and Maclise a banker's apprentice at Cork; Op and Romney, like Inigo Jones, were carpenters; West was the son of a Quaker farmer in Pennsylvania; Northcote was a watchmaker, Jackson tailor, and Etty a printer; Reynolds, Wilson, and Wilkie, were the sons clergymen; Lawrence was the son of a publican, and Turner of a barbe Several of our painters, it is true, originally had some connection with though in a very humble way,--such as Flaxman, whose father sold pla casts; Bird, who ornamented tea-trays; Martin, who was a coach-paint Wright and Gilpin, who were ship- painters; Chantrey, who was a carv and gilder; and David Cox, Stanfield, and Roberts, who were scene-painters. It was not by luck or accident that these men achieved distinction, but sheer industry and hard work. Though some achieved wealth, yet this rarely, if ever, the ruling motive. Indeed, no mere love of money could sustain the efforts of the artist in his early career of self-denial and application. The pleasure of the pursuit has always been its best rewa wealth which followed but an accident. Many noble-minded artists hav preferred following the bent of their genius, to chaffering with the pub for terms. Spagnoletto verified in his life the beautiful fiction of Xenop and after he had acquired the means of luxury, preferred withdrawing CHAPTER VI 126 himself from their influence, and voluntarily returned to poverty and labour. When Michael Angelo was asked his opinion respecting a work which a painter had taken great pains to exhibit for profit, he said, "I t that he will be a poor fellow so long as he shows such an extreme eag to become rich." Like Sir Joshua Reynolds, Michael Angelo was a great believer in the f of labour; and he held that there was nothing which the imagination conceived, that could not be embodied in marble, if the hand were ma vigorously to obey the mind. He was himself one of the most indefatig of workers; and he attributed his power of studying for a greater num hours than most of his contemporaries, to his spare habits of living. A 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 labours. On these occasions, it was his practice to the candle, by the light of which he chiselled, on the summit of a paste-board cap which he wore. Sometimes he was too wearied to und and he slept in his clothes, ready to spring to his work so soon as refre by sleep. He had a favourite device of an old man in a go-cart, with an hour-glass upon it bearing the inscription, Ancora imparo! Still I am learning. Titian, also, was an indefatigable worker. His celebrated "Pietro Marti 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 workin it almost daily for seven years--dopo sette anni lavorandovi quasi continuamente." Few think of the patient labour and long training invo in the greatest works of the artist. They seem easy and quickly accomplished, yet with how great difficulty has this ease been acquire "You charge me fifty sequins," said the Venetian nobleman to the sculp "for a bust that cost you only ten days' labour." "You forget," said the a "that I have been thirty years learning to make that bust in ten days." when Domenichino was blamed for his slowness in finishing a picture which was bespoken, he made answer, "I am continually painting it wi myself." It was eminently characteristic of the industry of the late Sir Augustus Callcott, that he made not fewer than forty separate sketche CHAPTER VI 127 the composition of his famous picture of "Rochester." This constant repetition is one of the main conditions of success in art, as in life itse No matter how generous nature has been in bestowing the gift of gen the pursuit of art is nevertheless a long and continuous labour. Many a have been precocious, but without diligence their precocity would hav come to nothing. The anecdote related of West is well known. When on seven years old, struck with the beauty of the sleeping infant of his eld sister whilst watching by its cradle, he ran to seek some paper and for drew its portrait in red and black ink. The little incident revealed the a in him, and it was found impossible to draw him from his bent. West m have been a greater painter, had he not been injured by too early succ his fame, though great, was not purchased by study, trials, and difficu and it has not been enduring. Richard Wilson, when a mere child, indulged himself with tracing figu of men and animals on the walls of his father's house, with a burnt stic first directed his attention to portrait painting; but when in Italy, callin day at the house of Zucarelli, and growing weary with waiting, he beg painting the scene on which his friend's chamber window looked. Whe Zucarelli arrived, he was so charmed with the picture, that he asked i 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 success." Wilson adopted the advice, studied and worked hard, and be our first great English landscape painter. Sir Joshua Reynolds, when a boy, forgot his lessons, and took pleasure in drawing, for which his father was accustomed to rebuke him. The b was destined for the profession of physic, but his strong instinct for ar could not be repressed, and he became a painter. Gainsborough went sketching, when a schoolboy, in the woods of Sudbury; and at twelve h was a confirmed artist: he was a keen observer and a hard worker,--no picturesque feature of any scene he had once looked upon, escaping h diligent pencil. William Blake, a hosier's son, employed himself in draw designs on the backs of his father's shop-bills, and making sketches on counter. Edward Bird, when a child only three or four years old, would CHAPTER VI 128 mount a chair and draw figures on the walls, which he called French a English soldiers. A box of colours was purchased for him, and his fath desirous of turning his love of art to account, put him apprentice to a of tea-trays! Out of this trade he gradually raised himself, by study an labour, to the rank of a Royal Academician. Hogarth, though a very dull boy at his lessons, took pleasure in makin drawings of the letters of the alphabet, and his school exercises were remarkable for the ornaments with which he embellished them, than f matter of the exercises themselves. In the latter respect he was beate the blockheads of the school, but in his adornments he stood alone. H father put him apprentice to a silversmith, where he learnt to draw, an to engrave spoons and forks with crests and ciphers. From silver- cha he went on to teach himself engraving on copper, principally griffins a monsters of heraldry, in the course of which practice he became ambi to delineate the varieties of human character. The singular excellence he reached in this art, was mainly the result of careful observation an study. He had the gift, which he sedulously cultivated, of committing t memory the precise features of any remarkable face, and afterwards reproducing them on paper; but if any singularly fantastic form or out face came in his way, he would make a sketch of it on the spot, upon h thumb-nail, and carry it home to expand at his leisure. Everything fantastical and original had a powerful attraction for him, and he wan into many out-of-the-way places for the purpose of meeting with chara By this careful storing of his mind, he was afterwards enabled to crow immense amount of thought and treasured observation into his works Hence it is that Hogarth's pictures are so truthful a memorial of the character, the manners, and even the very thoughts of the times in wh lived. True painting, he himself observed, can only be learnt in one sc and that is kept by Nature. But he was not a highly cultivated man, ex in his own walk. His school education had been of the slenderest kind scarcely even perfecting him in the art of spelling; his self-culture did rest. For a long time he was in very straitened circumstances, but nevertheless worked on with a cheerful heart. Poor though he was, he contrived to live within his small means, and he boasted, with becomin pride, that he was "a punctual paymaster." When he had conquered al CHAPTER VI 129 difficulties and become a famous and thriving man, he loved to dwell u his early labours and privations, and to fight over again the battle whi ended so honourably to him as a man and so gloriously as an artist. "I remember the time," said he on one occasion, "when I have gone mop 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, whi acted on himself, and strongly recommended to others. His well-know kindness induced many aspiring youths to call upon him and ask for h advice and assistance; and it is related that one day a boy called at his to see him with this object, but the servant, angry at the loud knock h given, scolded him, and was about sending him away, when Banks overhearing 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 said, "Time enough for the Academy, my little man! go home--mind you 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 work with redoubled diligence--and, at the end of the month, called again o sculptor. The drawing was better; but again Banks sent him back, with good advice, to work and study. In a week the boy was again at his doo his drawing much improved; and Banks bid him be of good cheer, for i spared he would distinguish himself. The boy was Mulready; and the sculptor's augury was amply fulfilled. The fame of Claude Lorraine is partly explained by his indefatigable industry. Born at Champagne, in Lorraine, of poor parents, he was firs apprenticed to a pastrycook. His brother, who was a wood-carver, afterwards took him into his shop to learn that trade. Having there sh indications of artistic skill, a travelling dealer persuaded the brother t allow Claude to accompany him to Italy. He assented, and the young m CHAPTER VI 130 reached Rome, where he was shortly after engaged by Agostino Tassi, landscape painter, as his house-servant. In that capacity Claude first l landscape painting, and in course of time he began to produce picture next find him making the tour of Italy, France, and Germany, occasion resting by the way to paint landscapes, and thereby replenish his purs returning to Rome he found an increasing demand for his works, and reputation at length became European. He was unwearied in the stud nature in her various aspects. It was his practice to spend a great par time in closely copying buildings, bits of ground, trees, leaves, and suc like, which he finished in detail, keeping the drawings by him in store the purpose of introducing them in his studied landscapes. He also ga close attention to the sky, watching it for whole days from morning till night, and noting the various changes occasioned by the passing cloud the increasing and waning light. By this constant practice he acquired although it is said very slowly, such a mastery of hand and eye as eventually secured for him the first rank among landscape painters. Turner, who has been styled "the English Claude," pursued a career o laborious industry. He was destined by his father for his own trade of barber, which he carried on in London, until one day the sketch which boy had made of a coat of arms on a silver salver having attracted the notice of a customer whom his father was shaving, the latter was urge allow his son to follow his bias, and he was eventually permitted to fol art as a profession. Like all young artists, Turner had many difficulties encounter, and they were all the greater that his circumstances were straitened. But he was always willing to work, and to take pains with h work, no matter how humble it might be. He was glad to hire himself half-a-crown a night to wash in skies in Indian ink upon other people's drawings, getting his supper into the bargain. Thus he earned money acquired expertness. Then he took to illustrating guide-books, almana and any sort of books that wanted cheap frontispieces. "What could I h 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 hav made a step in advance upon his previous work. A man who thus labou CHAPTER VI 131 was sure to do much; and his growth in power and grasp of thought w use Ruskin's words, "as steady as the increasing light of sunrise." But Turner's genius needs no panegyric; his best monument is the noble g of pictures bequeathed by him to the nation, which will ever be the mo lasting memorial of his fame. To reach Rome, the capital of the fine arts, is usually the highest ambi of the art student. But the journey to Rome is costly, and the student i often poor. With a will resolute to overcome difficulties, Rome may however at last be reached. Thus Francois Perrier, an early French pa in his eager desire to visit the Eternal City, consented to act as guide t blind vagrant. After long wanderings he reached the Vatican, studied became famous. Not less enthusiasm was displayed by Jacques Callot determination to visit Rome. Though opposed by his father in his wish be an artist, the boy would not be baulked, but fled from home to mak way to Italy. Having set out without means, he was soon reduced to gr straits; but falling in with a band of gipsies, he joined their company, a wandered about with them from one fair to another, sharing in their numerous adventures. During this remarkable journey Callot picked u much of that extraordinary knowledge of figure, feature, and characte which he afterwards reproduced, sometimes in such exaggerated form his wonderful engravings. When Callot at length reached Florence, a gentleman, pleased with hi ingenious ardour, placed him with an artist to study; but he was not satisfied to stop short of Rome, and we find him shortly on his way thi At Rome he made the acquaintance of Porigi and Thomassin, who, on seeing his crayon sketches, predicted for him a brilliant career as an a But a friend of Callot's family having accidentally encountered him, to steps to compel the fugitive to return home. By this time he had acqui such a love of wandering that he could not rest; so he ran away a seco time, and a second time he was brought back by his elder brother, wh caught him at Turin. At last the father, seeing resistance was in vain, g his reluctant consent to Callot's prosecuting his studies at Rome. Thit went accordingly; and this time he remained, diligently studying desig engraving for several years, under competent masters. On his way bac CHAPTER VI 132 France, he was encouraged by Cosmo II. to remain at Florence, where studied and worked for several years more. On the death of his patron returned to his family at Nancy, where, by the use of his burin and nee he shortly acquired both wealth and fame. When Nancy was taken by during the civil wars, Callot was requested by Richelieu to make a des and engraving of the event, but the artist would not commemorate the disaster which had befallen his native place, and he refused point-blan Richelieu could not shake his resolution, and threw him into prison. T Callot met with some of his old friends the gipsies, who had relieved h wants on his first journey to Rome. When Louis XIII. heard of his imprisonment, he not only released him, but offered to grant him any favour he might ask. Callot immediately requested that his old compa the gipsies, might be set free and permitted to beg in Paris without molestation. This odd request was granted on condition that Callot sh engrave their portraits, and hence his curious book of engravings enti "The Beggars." Louis is said to have offered Callot a pension of 3000 l provided he would not leave Paris; but the artist was now too much of Bohemian, and prized his liberty too highly to permit him to accept it; he returned to Nancy, where he worked till his death. His industry ma inferred from the number of his engravings and etchings, of which he not fewer than 1600. He was especially fond of grotesque subjects, wh he treated with great skill; his free etchings, touched with the graver, executed with especial delicacy and wonderful minuteness. Still more romantic and adventurous was the career of Benvenuto Cel the marvellous gold worker, painter, sculptor, engraver, engineer, and author. His life, as told by himself, is one of the most extraordinary autobiographies ever written. Giovanni Cellini, his father, was one of t Court musicians to Lorenzo de Medici at Florence; and his highest ambition concerning his son Benvenuto was that he should become an expert player on the flute. But Giovanni having lost his appointment, f it necessary to send his son to learn some trade, and he was apprentic goldsmith. The boy had already displayed a love of drawing and of art applying himself to his business, he soon became a dexterous workma Having got mixed up in a quarrel with some of the townspeople, he wa banished for six months, during which period he worked with a goldsm CHAPTER VI 133 at Sienna, gaining further experience in jewellery and gold-working. His father still insisting on his becoming a flute-player, Benvenuto continued to practise on the instrument, though he detested it. His ch pleasure was in art, which he pursued with enthusiasm. Returning to Florence, he carefully studied the designs of Leonardo da Vinci and Michael Angelo; and, still further to improve himself in gold-working, went on foot to Rome, where he met with a variety of adventures. He returned to Florence with the reputation of being a most expert worke the precious metals, and his skill was soon in great request. But being irascible temper, he was constantly getting into scrapes, and was freq under the necessity of flying for his life. Thus he fled from Florence in disguise of a friar, again taking refuge at Sienna, and afterwards at Ro During his second residence in Rome, Cellini met with extensive patronage, and he was taken into the Pope's service in the double cap of goldsmith and musician. He was constantly studying and improving himself by acquaintance with the works of the best masters. He moun jewels, finished enamels, engraved seals, and designed and executed in gold, silver, and bronze, in such a style as to excel all other artists. Whenever he heard of a goldsmith who was famous in any particular branch, he immediately determined to surpass him. Thus it was that h rivalled the medals of one, the enamels of another, and the jewellery o third; in fact, there was not a branch of his business that he did not fe impelled to excel in. Working in this spirit, it is not so wonderful that Cellini should have be able to accomplish so much. He was a man of indefatigable activity, an was constantly on the move. At one time we find him at Florence, at another at Rome; then he is at Mantua, at Rome, at Naples, and back Florence again; then at Venice, and in Paris, making all his long journe on horseback. He could not carry much luggage with him; so, whereve went, he usually began by making his own tools. He not only designed works, but executed them himself,--hammered and carved, and cast an shaped them with his own hands. Indeed, his works have the impress genius so clearly stamped upon them, that they could never have been CHAPTER VI 134 designed by one person, and executed by another. The humblest articl buckle for a lady's girdle, a seal, a locket, a brooch, a ring, or a button--became in his hands a beautiful work of art. Cellini was remarkable for his readiness and dexterity in handicraft. O day a surgeon entered the shop of Raffaello del Moro, the goldsmith, t perform an operation on his daughter's hand. On looking at the surgeo instruments, Cellini, who was present, found them rude and clumsy, a usually were in those days, and he asked the surgeon to proceed no fu with the operation for a quarter of an hour. He then ran to his shop, a taking a piece of the finest steel, wrought out of it a beautifully finishe knife, with which the operation was successfully performed. Among the statues executed by Cellini, the most important are the silv figure of Jupiter, executed at Paris for Francis I., and the Perseus, exe in bronze for the Grand Duke Cosmo of Florence. He also executed sta in marble of Apollo, Hyacinthus, Narcissus, and Neptune. The extraordinary incidents connected with the casting of the Perseus wer peculiarly illustrative of the remarkable character of the man. The Grand Duke having expressed a decided opinion that the model, w shown to him in wax, could not possibly be cast in bronze, Cellini was immediately stimulated by the predicted impossibility, not only to atte but to do it. He first made the clay model, baked it, and covered it wit wax, which he shaped into the perfect form of a statue. Then coating t wax with a sort of earth, he baked the second covering, during which wax dissolved and escaped, leaving the space between the two layers the reception of the metal. To avoid disturbance, the latter process wa conducted in a pit dug immediately under the furnace, from which the liquid metal was to be introduced by pipes and apertures into the mou prepared for it. Cellini had purchased and laid in several loads of pine-wood, in anticipation of the process of casting, which now began. The furnace w filled with pieces of brass and bronze, and the fire was lit. The resinou pine-wood was soon in such a furious blaze, that the shop took fire, an CHAPTER VI 135 part of the roof was burnt; while at the same time the wind blowing an rain filling on the furnace, kept down the heat, and prevented the met from melting. For hours Cellini struggled to keep up the heat, continu throwing in more wood, until at length he became so exhausted and il he feared he should die before the statue could be cast. He was forced leave to his assistants the pouring in of the metal when melted, and be himself to his bed. While those about him were condoling with him in distress, a workman suddenly entered the room, lamenting that "Poor Benvenuto's work was irretrievably spoiled!" On hearing this, Cellini immediately sprang from his bed and rushed to the workshop, where found the fire so much gone down that the metal had again become ha Sending across to a neighbour for a load of young oak which had been more than a year in drying, he soon had the fire blazing again and the melting and glittering. The wind was, however, still blowing with fury, the rain falling heavily; so, to protect himself, Cellini had some tables pieces of tapestry and old clothes brought to him, behind which he we hurling the wood into the furnace. A mass of pewter was thrown in up the other metal, and by stirring, sometimes with iron and sometimes w long poles, the whole soon became completely melted. At this juncture when the trying moment was close at hand, a terrible noise as of a thunderbolt was heard, and a glittering of fire flashed before Cellini's The cover of the furnace had burst, and the metal began to flow! Find that it did not run with the proper velocity, Cellini rushed into the kitc bore away every piece of copper and pewter that it contained--some tw hundred porringers, dishes, and kettles of different kinds--and threw t into the furnace. Then at length the metal flowed freely, and thus the splendid statue of Perseus was cast. The divine fury of genius in which Cellini rushed to his kitchen and stripped it of its utensils for the purposes of his furnace, will remind t reader of the like act of Pallissy in breaking up his furniture for the pu of baking his earthenware. Excepting, however, in their enthusiasm, n men could be less alike in character. Cellini was an Ishmael against w according to his own account, every man's hand was turned. But abou extraordinary skill as a workman, and his genius as an artist, there ca CHAPTER VI 136 be two opinions. Much less turbulent was the career of Nicolas Poussin, a man as pure elevated in his ideas of art as he was in his daily life, and distinguishe alike for his vigour of intellect, his rectitude of character, and his nobl simplicity. He was born in a very humble station, at Andeleys, near Ro where his father kept a small school. The boy had the benefit of his pa instruction, such as it was, but of that he is said to have been somewh negligent, preferring to spend his time in covering his lesson- books a slate with drawings. A country painter, much pleased with his sketche besought his parents not to thwart him in his tastes. The painter agre give Poussin lessons, and he soon made such progress that his master nothing more to teach him. Becoming restless, and desirous of further improving himself, Poussin, at the age of 18, set out for Paris, painting signboards on his way for a maintenance. At Paris a new world of art opened before him, exciting his wonder an stimulating his emulation. He worked diligently in many studios, draw copying, and painting pictures. After a time, he resolved, if possible, t Rome, and set out on his journey; but he only succeeded in getting as Florence, and again returned to Paris. A second attempt which he mad reach Rome was even less successful; for this time he only got as far a Lyons. He was, nevertheless, careful to take advantage of all opportun for improvement which came in his way, and continued as sedulous as before in studying and working. Thus twelve years passed, years of obscurity and toil, of failures and disappointments, and probably of privations. At length Poussin succee in reaching Rome. There he diligently studied the old masters, and especially the ancient statues, with whose perfection he was greatly impressed. For some time he lived with the sculptor Duquesnoi, as po himself, and assisted him in modelling figures after the antique. With he carefully measured some of the most celebrated statues in Rome, m particularly the 'Antinous:' and it is supposed that this practice exerci considerable influence on the formation of his future style. At the sam time he studied anatomy, practised drawing from the life, and made a CHAPTER VI 137 store of sketches of postures and attitudes of people whom he met, ca reading at his leisure such standard books on art as he could borrow f his friends. During all this time he remained very poor, satisfied to be continually improving himself. He was glad to sell his pictures for whatever they w bring. One, of a prophet, he sold for eight livres; and another, the 'Pla the Philistines,' he sold for 60 crowns--a picture afterwards bought by Cardinal de Richelieu for a thousand. To add to his troubles, he was stricken by a cruel malady, during the helplessness occasioned by whi the Chevalier del Posso assisted him with money. For this gentleman Poussin afterwards painted the 'Rest in the Desert,' a fine picture, whi more than repaid the advances made during his illness. The brave man went on toiling and learning through suffering. Still ai at higher things, he went to Florence and Venice, enlarging the range studies. The fruits of his conscientious labour at length appeared in th series of great pictures which he now began to produce,--his 'Death of Germanicus,' followed by 'Extreme Unction,' the 'Testament of Eudam the 'Manna,' and the 'Abduction of the Sabines.' The reputation of Poussin, however, grew but slowly. He was of a retir disposition and shunned society. People gave him credit for being a th much more than a painter. When not actually employed in painting, he long solitary walks in the country, meditating the designs of future pic One of his few friends while at Rome was Claude Lorraine, with whom spent many hours at a time on the terrace of La Trinite-du-Mont, conversing about art and antiquarianism. The monotony and the quiet Rome were suited to his taste, and, provided he could earn a moderat living by his brush, he had no wish to leave it. But his fame now extended beyond Rome, and repeated invitations we sent him to return to Paris. He was offered the appointment of princip painter to the King. At first he hesitated; quoted the Italian proverb, C bene non si muove; said he had lived fifteen years in Rome, married a there, and looked forward to dying and being buried there. Urged aga CHAPTER VI 138 consented, and returned to Paris. But his appearance there awakened professional jealousy, and he soon wished himself back in Rome again While in Paris he painted some of his greatest works--his 'Saint Xavier 'Baptism,' and the 'Last Supper.' He was kept constantly at work. At fi did whatever he was asked to do, such as designing frontispieces for t royal books, more particularly a Bible and a Virgil, cartoons for the Lo and designs for tapestry; but at length he expostulated:- "It is impossi me," he said to M. de Chanteloup, "to work at the same time at frontispieces for books, at a Virgin, at a picture of the Congregation o Louis, at the various designs for the gallery, and, finally, at designs for royal tapestry. I have only one pair of hands and a feeble head, and ca neither be helped nor can my labours be lightened by another." Annoyed by the enemies his success had provoked and whom he was unable to conciliate, he determined, at the end of less than two years' in Paris, to return to Rome. Again settled there in his humble dwelling Mont Pincio, he employed himself diligently in the practice of his art during the remaining years of his life, living in great simplicity and pr Though suffering much from the disease which afflicted him, he solace himself by study, always striving after excellence. "In growing old," he said, "I feel myself becoming more and more inflamed with the desire surpassing myself and reaching the highest degree of perfection." Thu toiling, struggling, and suffering, Poussin spent his later years. He had children; his wife died before him; all his friends were gone: so that in old age he was left absolutely alone in Rome, so full of tombs, and die there in 1665, bequeathing to his relatives at Andeleys the savings of life, amounting to about 1000 crowns; and leaving behind him, as a le to his race, the great works of his genius. The career of Ary Scheffer furnishes one of the best examples in mode times of a like high-minded devotion to art. Born at Dordrecht, the son German artist, he early manifested an aptitude for drawing and painti which his parents encouraged. His father dying while he was still youn his mother resolved, though her means were but small, to remove the family to Paris, in order that her son might obtain the best opportuniti instruction. There young Scheffer was placed with Guerin the painter. CHAPTER VI 139 his mother's means were too limited to permit him to devote himself exclusively to study. She had sold the few jewels she possessed, and refused herself every indulgence, in order to forward the instruction o other children. Under such circumstances, it was natural that Ary sho wish to help her; and by the time he was eighteen years of age he beg paint small pictures of simple subjects, which met with a ready sale at moderate prices. He also practised portrait painting, at the same time gathering experience and earning honest money. He gradually improv drawing, colouring, and composition. The 'Baptism' marked a new epo his career, and from that point he went on advancing, until his fame culminated in his pictures illustrative of 'Faust,' his 'Francisca de Rim 'Christ the Consoler,' the 'Holy Women,' 'St. Monica and St. Augustin,' many other noble works. "The amount of labour, thought, and attention," says Mrs. Grote, "whic Scheffer brought to the production of the 'Francisca,' must have been enormous. In truth, his technical education having been so imperfect, was forced to climb the steep of art by drawing upon his own resource and thus, whilst his hand was at work, his mind was engaged in medit He had to try various processes of handling, and experiments in colou to paint and repaint, with tedious and unremitting assiduity. But Natu endowed him with that which proved in some sort an equivalent for shortcomings of a professional kind. His own elevation of character, a his profound sensibility, aided him in acting upon the feelings of other through the medium of the pencil." {21} One of the artists whom Scheffer most admired was Flaxman; and he said to a friend, "If I have unconsciously borrowed from any one in the design of the 'Francisca,' it must have been from something I had seen among Flaxman's drawings." John Flaxman was the son of a humble s of plaster casts in New Street, Covent Garden. When a child, he was s an invalid that it was his custom to sit behind his father's shop counte propped by pillows, amusing himself with drawing and reading. A benevolent clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Matthews, calling at the shop one saw the boy trying to read a book, and on inquiring what it was, found be a Cornelius Nepos, which his father had picked up for a few pence CHAPTER VI 140 bookstall. The gentleman, after some conversation with the boy, said t was not the proper book for him to read, but that he would bring him The next day he called with translations of Homer and 'Don Quixote,' which the boy proceeded to read with great avidity. His mind was soon filled with the heroism which breathed through the pages of the forme and, with the stucco Ajaxes and Achilleses about him, ranged along th shop shelves, the ambition took possession of him, that he too would d and embody in poetic forms those majestic heroes. Like all youthful efforts, his first designs were crude. The proud father day showed some of them to Roubilliac the sculptor, who turned from with a contemptuous "pshaw!" But the boy had the right stuff in him; had industry and patience; and he continued to labour incessantly at h books and drawings. He then tried his young powers in modelling figu plaster of Paris, wax, and clay. Some of these early works are still preserved, not because of their merit, but because they are curious as first healthy efforts of patient genius. It was long before the boy could walk, and he only learnt to do so by hobbling along upon crutches. At length he became strong enough to walk without them. The kind Mr. Matthews invited 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 By dint of patience and perseverance, his drawing improved so much tha he obtained a commission from a lady, to execute six original drawings in black chalk of subjects in Homer. His first commission! What an event in the artist's life! A surgeon's first fee, a lawyer's first retainer, a legislator first speech, a singer's first appearance behind the foot-lights, an author first book, are not any of them more full of interest to the aspirant for fam than the artist's first commission. The boy at once proceeded to execute t order, and he was both well praised and well paid for his work. At fifteen Flaxman entered a pupil at the Royal Academy. Notwithstan his retiring disposition, he soon became known among the students, a great things were expected of him. Nor were their expectations disappointed: in his fifteenth year he gained the silver prize, and next CHAPTER VI 141 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 a and industry. Yet he lost it, and the gold medal was adjudged to a pupi who was not afterwards heard of. This failure on the part of the youth 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 m time," said he to his father, "and I will yet produce works that the Aca will be proud to recognise." He redoubled his efforts, spared no pains, designed and modelled incessantly, and made steady if not rapid prog But meanwhile poverty threatened his father's household; the plastertrade yielded a very bare living; and young Flaxman, with resolute sel denial, curtailed his hours of study, and devoted himself to helping his father in the humble details of his business. He laid aside his Homer t up the plaster-trowel. He was willing to work in the humblest departm the trade so that his father's family might be supported, and the wolf from the door. To this drudgery of his art he served a long apprentices but it did him good. It familiarised him with steady work, and cultivate him the spirit of patience. The discipline may have been hard, but it w wholesome. Happily, young Flaxman's skill in design had reached the knowledge o Josiah Wedgwood, who sought him out for the purpose of employing h to design improved patterns of china and earthenware. It may seem a humble department of art for such a genius as Flaxman to work in; bu really was not so. An artist may be labouring truly in his vocation whil designing a common teapot or water-jug. Articles in daily use amongs people, which are before their eyes at every meal, may be made the vehicles of education to all, and minister to their highest culture. The ambitious artist way thus confer a greater practical benefit on his countrymen than by executing an elaborate work which he may sell fo thousands of pounds to be placed in some wealthy man's gallery wher hidden away from public sight. Before Wedgwood's time the designs w figured upon our china and stoneware were hideous both in drawing a execution, and he determined to improve both. Flaxman did his best t carry out the manufacturer's views. He supplied him from time to time models and designs of various pieces of earthenware, the subjects of w CHAPTER VI 142 were principally from ancient verse and history. Many of them are stil existence, and some are equal in beauty and simplicity to his after des for marble. The celebrated Etruscan vases, specimens of which were t found in public museums and in the cabinets of the curious, furnished with the best examples of form, and these he embellished with his own elegant devices. Stuart's 'Athens,' then recently published, furnished h with specimens of the purest-shaped Greek utensils; of these he adopt best, and worked them into new shapes of elegance and beauty. Flaxm then saw that he was labouring in a great work--no less than the prom of popular education; and he was proud, in after life, to allude to his e labours in this walk, by which he was enabled at the same time to cult his love of the beautiful, to diffuse a taste for art among the people, an replenish his own purse, while he promoted the prosperity of his frien benefactor. At length, in the year 1782, when twenty-seven years of age, he quitte father's roof and rented a small house and studio in Wardour Street, S and what was more, he married--Ann Denman was the name of his wife--and a cheerful, bright-souled, noble woman she was. He believed in marrying her he should be able to work with an intenser spirit; for, him, she had a taste for poetry and art; and besides was an enthusiast admirer of her husband's genius. Yet when Sir Joshua Reynolds--himse bachelor--met Flaxman shortly after his marriage, he said to him, "So, Flaxman, I am told you are married; if so, sir, I tell you you are ruined an artist." Flaxman went straight home, sat down beside his wife, took hand in his, and said, "Ann, I am ruined for an artist." "How so, John? has it happened? and who has done it?" "It happened," he replied, "in 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 expresse that if students would excel they must bring the whole powers of their to bear upon their art, from the moment they rose until they went to b and also, that no man could be a GREAT artist unless he studied the g works of Raffaelle, Michael Angelo, and others, at Rome and Florence I height, " "And I," said Flaxman, drawing up his little figure to its full 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." "B CHAPTER VI 143 how?" asked Flaxman. "WORK AND ECONOMISE," rejoined the brave wife; "I will never have it said that Ann Denman ruined John Flaxman for an artist." And so it was determined 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 rathe than his harm; and you, Ann, shall accompany me." Patiently and happily the affectionate couple plodded on during five ye in their humble little home in Wardour Street, always with the long jou to Rome before them. It was never lost sight of for a moment, and not penny was uselessly spent that could be saved towards the necessary expenses. They said no word to any one about their project; solicited n from the Academy; but trusted only to their own patient labour and lo pursue and achieve their object. During this time Flaxman exhibited v few works. He could not afford marble to experiment in original desig but he obtained frequent commissions for monuments, by the profits o which he maintained himself. He still worked for Wedgwood, who was prompt paymaster; and, on the whole, he was thriving, happy, and hop His local respectability was even such as to bring local honours and lo work upon him; for he was elected by the ratepayers to collect the watch-rate for the Parish of St. Anne, when he might be seen going ab with an ink-bottle suspended from his button-hole, collecting the mone At length Flaxman and his wife having accumulated a sufficient store savings, set out for Rome. Arrived there, he applied himself diligently study, maintaining himself, like other poor artists, by making copies fr the antique. English visitors sought his studio, and gave him commiss and it was then that he composed his beautiful designs illustrative of Homer, AEschylus, and Dante. The price paid for them was moderatefifteen shillings a-piece; but Flaxman worked for art as well as money; the beauty of the designs brought him other friends and patrons. He executed Cupid and Aurora for the munificent Thomas Hope, and the of Athamas for the Earl of Bristol. He then prepared to return to Engla his taste improved and cultivated by careful study; but before he left I the Academies of Florence and Carrara recognised his merit by electin him a member. CHAPTER VI 144 His fame had preceded him to London, where he soon found abundan employment. While at Rome he had been commissioned to execute his famous monument in memory of Lord Mansfield, and it was erected in north transept of Westminster Abbey shortly after his return. It stands in majestic grandeur, a monument to the genius of Flaxman himself--c simple, and severe. No wonder that Banks, the sculptor, then in the he of his fame, exclaimed when he saw it, "This little man cuts us all out! When the members of the Royal Academy heard of Flaxman's return, especially when they had an opportunity of seeing and admiring his portrait-statue of Mansfield, they were eager to have him enrolled am their number. He allowed his name to be proposed in the candidates' l associates, and was immediately elected. Shortly after, he appeared in entirely new character. The little boy who had begun his studies behin plaster-cast- seller's shop-counter in New Street, Covent Garden, was man of high intellect and recognised supremacy in art, to instruct stud in the character of Professor of Sculpture to the Royal Academy! And man better deserved to fill that distinguished office; for none is so abl instruct others as he who, for himself and by his own efforts, has learn grapple with and overcome difficulties. After a long, peaceful, and happy life, Flaxman found himself growing The loss which he sustained by the death of his affectionate wife Ann, a severe shock to him; but he survived her several years, during which executed his celebrated "Shield of Achilles," and his noble "Archangel Michael vanquishing Satan,"- -perhaps his two greatest works. Chantrey was a more robust man;--somewhat rough, but hearty in his demeanour; proud of his successful struggle with the difficulties whic beset him in early life; and, above all, proud of his independence. He w born a poor man's child, at Norton, near Sheffield. His father dying wh he was a mere boy, his mother married again. Young Chantrey used to drive an ass laden with milk-cans across its back into the neighbourin town of Sheffield, and there serve his mother's customers with milk. S was the humble beginning of his industrial career; and it was by his ow strength that he rose from that position, and achieved the highest emi CHAPTER VI 145 as an artist. Not taking kindly to his step-father, the boy was sent to tr 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 ey attracted by the glittering articles it contained, and, charmed with the of being a carver, he begged to be released from the grocery business that object. His friends consented, and he was bound apprentice to th carver and gilder for seven years. His new master, besides being a car wood, was also a dealer in prints and plaster models; and Chantrey at set about imitating both, studying with great industry and energy. All spare hours were devoted to drawing, modelling, and self-improvemen and he often carried his labours far into the night. Before his apprenti was out--at the ace of twenty-one--he paid over to his master the whol wealth which he was able to muster--a sum of 50l.--to cancel his indentures, determined to devote himself to the career of an artist. He made the best of his way to London, and with characteristic good sens sought employment as an assistant carver, studying painting and mod at his bye-hours. Among the jobs on which he was first employed as a journeyman carver, was the decoration of the dining-room of Mr. Roge the poet--a room in which he was in after years a welcome visitor; and usually took pleasure in pointing out his early handywork to the guest whom he met at his friend's table. Returning to Sheffield on a professional visit, he advertised himself in local papers as a painter of portraits in crayons and miniatures, and a oil. For his first crayon portrait he was paid a guinea by a cutler; and f portrait in oil, a confectioner paid him as much as 5l. and a pair of top boots! Chantrey was soon in London again to study at the Royal Acade and next time he returned to Sheffield he advertised himself as ready model plaster busts of his townsmen, as well as paint portraits of them was even selected to design a monument to a deceased vicar of the to and executed it to the general satisfaction. When in London he used a over a stable as a studio, and there he modelled his first original work exhibition. It was a gigantic head of Satan. Towards the close of Chan life, a friend passing through his studio was struck by this model lying corner. "That head," said the sculptor, "was the first thing that I did af came to London. I worked at it in a garret with a paper cap on my hea CHAPTER VI 146 as I could then afford only one candle, I stuck that one in my cap that 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 Greenwich. This commission led to others, and painting was given up. But for eight years before, he had n earned 5l. by his modelling. His famous head of Horne Tooke was such success that, according to his own account, it brought him commission amounting to 12,000l. Chantrey had now succeeded, but he had worked hard, and fairly earn good fortune. He was selected from amongst sixteen competitors to ex the statue of George III. for the city of London. A few years later, he produced the exquisite monument of the Sleeping Children, now in Lichfield Cathedral,--a work of great tenderness and beauty; and thenceforward his career was one of increasing honour, fame, and prosperity. His patience, industry, and steady perseverance were the m by which he achieved his greatness. Nature endowed him with genius his sound sense enabled him to employ the precious gift as a blessing. was prudent and shrewd, like the men amongst whom he was born; th pocket-book which accompanied him on his Italian tour containing mi notes on art, records of daily expenses, and the current prices of marb tastes were simple, and he made his finest subjects great by the mere of simplicity. His statue of Watt, in Handsworth church, seems to us th very consummation of art; yet it is perfectly artless and simple. His generosity to brother artists in need was splendid, but quiet and unostentatious. He left the principal part of his fortune to the Royal Academy for the promotion of British art. The same honest and persistent industry was throughout distinctive o career of David Wilkie. The son of a Scotch minister, he gave early indications of an artistic turn; and though he was a negligent and inap scholar, he was a sedulous drawer of faces and figures. A silent boy, h 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 CHAPTER VI 147 the river side, were alike convenient for his purpose. Any sort of tool w serve him; like Giotto, he found a pencil in a burnt stick, a prepared c in any smooth stone, and the subject for a picture in every ragged mendicant he met. When he visited a house, he generally left his mark the walls as an indication of his presence, sometimes to the disgust of cleanly housewives. In short, notwithstanding the aversion of his fathe minister, to the "sinful" profession of painting, Wilkie's strong propens was not to be thwarted, and he became an artist, working his way man up the steep of difficulty. Though rejected on his first application as a candidate for admission to the Scottish Academy, at Edinburgh, on acc of the rudeness and inaccuracy of his introductory specimens, he persevered in producing better, until he was admitted. But his progres slow. He applied himself diligently to the drawing of the human figure held on with the determination to succeed, as if with a resolute confid in the result. He displayed none of the eccentric humour and fitful application of many youths who conceive themselves geniuses, but ke the routine of steady application to such an extent that he himself was afterwards accustomed to attribute his success to his dogged perseve rather than to any higher innate power. "The single element," he said, all the progressive movements of my pencil was persevering industry. Edinburgh he gained a few premiums, thought of turning his attention portrait painting, with a view to its higher and more certain remunera but eventually went boldly into the line in which he earned his fame,-painted his Pitlessie Fair. What was bolder still, he determined to proc to London, on account of its presenting so much wider a field for stud work; and the poor Scotch lad arrived in town, and painted his Village Politicians while living in a humble lodging on eighteen shillings a wee Notwithstanding the success of this picture, and the commissions whi followed it, Wilkie long continued poor. The prices which his works realized were not great, for he bestowed upon them so much time and labour, that his earnings continued comparatively small for many year Every picture was carefully studied and elaborated beforehand; nothin struck off at a heat; many occupied him for years--touching, retouchin and improving them until they finally passed out of his hands. As with Reynolds, his motto was "Work! work! work!" and, like him, he expres CHAPTER VI 148 great dislike for talking artists. Talkers may sow, but the silent reap. " be DOING something," was his oblique mode of rebuking the loquacio and admonishing the idle. He once related to his friend Constable tha he studied at the Scottish Academy, Graham, the master of it, was accustomed to say to the students, in the words of Reynolds, "If you h genius, industry will improve it; if you have none, industry will supply place." "So," said Wilkie, "I was determined to be very industrious, for knew I had no genius." He also told Constable that when Linnell and Burnett, his fellow- students in London, were talking about art, he alw contrived to get as close to them as he could to hear all they said, "for he, "they know a great deal, and I know very little." This was said with perfect sincerity, for Wilkie was habitually modest. One of the first thi that he did with the sum of thirty pounds which he obtained from Lord Mansfield for his Village Politicians, was to buy a present--of bonnets, shawls, and dresses--for his mother and sister at home, though but litt able to afford it at the time. Wilkie's early poverty had trained him in h of strict economy, which were, however, consistent with a noble libera as appears from sundry passages in the Autobiography of Abraham Raimbach the engraver. William Etty was another notable instance of unflagging industry and indomitable perseverance in art. His father was a ginger-bread and spicemaker at York, and his mother--a woman of considerable force an originality of character--was the daughter of a ropemaker. The boy ear displayed a love of drawing, covering walls, floors, and tables with specimens of his skill; his first crayon being a farthing's worth of chalk this giving place to a piece of coal or a bit of charred stick. His mothe knowing nothing of art, put the boy apprentice to a trade--that of a pri But in his leisure hours he went on with the practice of drawing; and w his time was out he determined to follow his bent--he would be a paint and nothing else. Fortunately his uncle and elder brother were able an willing to help him on in his new career, and they provided him with th means of entering as pupil at the Royal Academy. We observe, from Leslie's Autobiography, that Etty was looked upon by his fellow studen a worthy but dull, plodding person, who would never distinguish hims But he had in him the divine faculty of work, and diligently plodded hi CHAPTER VI 149 way upward to eminence in the highest walks of art. Many artists have had to encounter privations which have tried their courage and endurance to the utmost before they succeeded. What nu may have sunk under them we can never know. Martin encountered difficulties in the course of his career such as perhaps fall to the lot of More than once he found himself on the verge of starvation while eng on his first great picture. It is related of him that on one occasion he f himself reduced to his last shilling--a BRIGHT shilling--which he had k because of its very brightness, but at length he found it necessary to exchange it for bread. He went to a baker's shop, bought a loaf, and w taking it away, when the baker snatched it from him, and tossed back shilling to the starving painter. The bright shilling had failed him in hi hour of need--it was a bad one! Returning to his lodgings, he rummag trunk for some remaining crust to satisfy his hunger. Upheld througho the victorious power of enthusiasm, he pursued his design with unsub energy. He had the courage to work on and to wait; and when, a few d after, he found an opportunity to exhibit his picture, he was from that famous. Like many other great artists, his life proves that, in despite o outward circumstances, genius, aided by industry, will be its own prot and that fame, though she comes late, will never ultimately refuse her favours to real merit The most careful discipline and training after academic methods will f making an artist, unless he himself take an active part in the work. Lik every highly cultivated man, he must be mainly self-educated. When P who was brought up in his father's office, had learnt all that he could of architecture according to the usual formulas, he still found that he learned but little; and that he must begin at the beginning, and pass t the discipline of labour. Young Pugin accordingly hired himself out as common carpenter at Covent Garden Theatre--first working under the stage, then behind the flys, then upon the stage itself. He thus acquire familiarity with work, and cultivated an architectural taste, to which t diversity of the mechanical employment about a large operatic establishment is peculiarly favourable. When the theatre closed for th season, he worked a sailing-ship between London and some of the Fre CHAPTER VI 150 ports, carrying on at the same time a profitable trade. At every opport he would land and make drawings of any old building, and especially o any ecclesiastical structure which fell in his way. Afterwards he would make special journeys to the Continent for the same purpose, and retu home laden with drawings. Thus he plodded and laboured on, making of the excellence and distinction which he eventually achieved. A similar illustration of plodding industry in the same walk is presente the career of George Kemp, the architect of the beautiful Scott Monum at Edinburgh. He was the son of a poor shepherd, who pursued his ca on the southern slope of the Pentland Hills. Amidst that pastoral solitu the boy had no opportunity of enjoying the contemplation of works of happened, however, that in his tenth year he was sent on a message to Roslin, by the farmer for whom his father herded sheep, and the sight beautiful castle and chapel there seems to have made a vivid and endu impression on his mind. Probably to enable him to indulge his love of architectural construction, the boy besought his father to let him be a and he was accordingly put apprentice to a neighbouring village carpe Having served his time, he went to Galashiels to seek work. As he was plodding along the valley of the Tweed with his tools upon his back, a carriage overtook him near Elibank Tower; and the coachman, doubtle the suggestion of his master, who was seated inside, having asked the how far he had to walk, and learning that he was on his way to Galash invited him to mount the box beside him, and thus to ride thither. It tu out that the kindly gentleman inside was no other than Sir Walter Sco then travelling on his official duty as Sheriff of Selkirkshire. Whilst working at Galashiels, Kemp had frequent opportunities of visiting Melrose, Dryburgh, and Jedburgh Abbeys, which he studied carefully. Inspired by his love of architecture, he worked his way as a carpenter the greater part of the north of England, never omitting an opportunit inspecting and making sketches of any fine Gothic building. On one occasion, when working in Lancashire, he walked fifty miles to York, s a week in carefully examining the Minster, and returned in like manne foot. We next find him in Glasgow, where he remained four years, stud the fine cathedral there during his spare time. He returned to England this time working his way further south; studying Canterbury, Winche CHAPTER VI 151 Tintern, and other well-known structures. In 1824 he formed the desig travelling over Europe with the same object, supporting himself by his trade. Reaching Boulogne, he proceeded by Abbeville and Beauvais to Paris, spending a few weeks making drawings and studies at each pla His skill as a mechanic, and especially his knowledge of mill-work, rea secured him employment wherever he went; and he usually chose the of his employment in the neighbourhood of some fine old Gothic struc in studying which he occupied his leisure. After a year's working, trav and study abroad, he returned to Scotland. He continued his studies, a became a proficient in drawing and perspective: Melrose was his favo ruin; and he produced several elaborate drawings of the building, one which, exhibiting it in a "restored" state, was afterwards engraved. He obtained employment as a modeller of architectural designs; and mad drawings for a work begun by an Edinburgh engraver, after the plan o Britton's 'Cathedral Antiquities.' This was a task congenial to his taste he laboured at it with an enthusiasm which ensured its rapid advance walking on foot for the purpose over half Scotland, and living as an ordinary mechanic, whilst executing drawings which would have done credit to the best masters in the art. The projector of the work having suddenly, the publication was however stopped, and Kemp sought oth employment. Few knew of the genius of this man-- for he was exceedin taciturn and habitually modest--when the Committee of the Scott Monument offered a prize for the best design. The competitors were numerous--including some of the greatest names in classical architect but the design unanimously selected was that of George Kemp, who w working at Kilwinning Abbey in Ayrshire, many miles off, when the let reached him intimating the decision of the committee. Poor Kemp! Sh after this event he met an untimely death, and did not live to see the fi result of his indefatigable industry and self- culture embodied in stone of the most beautiful and appropriate memorials ever erected to litera genius. John Gibson was another artist full of a genuine enthusiasm and love f art, which placed him high above those sordid temptations which urge meaner natures to make time the measure of profit. He was born at G near Conway, in North Wales--the son of a gardener. He early showed CHAPTER VI 152 indications of his talent by the carvings in wood which he made by me of a common pocket knife; and his father, noting the direction of his ta sent him to Liverpool and bound him apprentice to a cabinet-maker an wood- carver. He rapidly improved at his trade, and some of his carvin were much admired. He was thus naturally led to sculpture, and when eighteen years old he modelled a small figure of Time in wax, which attracted considerable notice. The Messrs. Franceys, sculptors, of Liverpool, having purchased the boy's indentures, took him as their apprentice for six years, during which his genius displayed itself in ma original works. From thence he proceeded to London, and afterwards Rome; and his fame became European. Robert Thorburn, the Royal Academician, like John Gibson, was born o poor parents. His father was a shoe-maker at Dumfries. Besides Rober there were two other sons; one of whom is a skilful carver in wood. On day a lady called at the shoemaker's and found Robert, then a mere bo engaged in drawing upon a stool which served him for a table. She examined his work, and observing his abilities, interested herself in obtaining for him some employment in drawing, and enlisted in his be the services of others who could assist him in prosecuting the study o The boy was diligent, pains-taking, staid, and silent, mixing little with companions, and forming but few intimacies. About the year 1830, som gentlemen of the town provided him with the means of proceeding to Edinburgh, where he was admitted a student at the Scottish Academy There he had the advantage of studying under competent masters, an progress which he made was rapid. From Edinburgh he removed to London, where, we understand, he had the advantage of being introdu notice under the patronage of the Duke of Buccleuch. We need scarce say, however, that of whatever use patronage may have been to Thorb giving him an introduction to the best circles, patronage of no kind co have made him the great artist that he unquestionably is, without nati genius and diligent application. Noel Paton, the well-known painter, began his artistic career at Dunfermline and Paisley, as a drawer of patterns for table-cloths and muslin embroidered by hand; meanwhile working diligently at higher CHAPTER VI 153 subjects, including the drawing of the human figure. He was, like Turn ready to turn his hand to any kind of work, and in 1840, when a mere youth, we find him engaged, among his other labours, in illustrating th 'Renfrewshire Annual.' He worked his way step by step, slowly yet sur but he remained unknown until the exhibition of the prize cartoons pa for the houses of Parliament, when his picture of the Spirit of Religion which he obtained one of the first prizes) revealed him to the world as genuine artist; and the works which he has since exhibited--such as th 'Reconciliation of Oberon and Titania,' 'Home,' and 'The bluidy Tryste'--have shown a steady advance in artistic power and culture. Another striking exemplification of perseverance and industry in the cultivation of art in humble life is presented in the career of James Sharples, a working blacksmith at Blackburn. He was born at Wakefie Yorkshire, in 1825, one of a family of thirteen children. His father was working ironfounder, and removed to Bury to follow his business. The received no school education, but were all sent to work as soon as the were able; and at about ten James was placed in a foundry, where he w employed for about two years as smithy-boy. After that he was sent int engine-shop where his father worked as engine-smith. The boy's employment was to heat and carry rivets for the boiler-makers. Thoug hours of labour were very long--often from six in the morning until eig night--his father contrived to give him some little teaching after worki hours; and it was thus that he partially learned his letters. An incident occurred in the course of his employment among the boiler-makers, w first awakened in him the desire to learn drawing. He had occasionall employed by the foreman to hold the chalked line with which he made designs of boilers upon the floor of the workshop; and on such occasio the foreman was accustomed to hold the line, and direct the boy to ma the necessary dimensions. James soon became so expert at this as to b considerable service to the foreman; and at his leisure hours at home great delight was to practise drawing designs of boilers upon his moth floor. On one occasion, when a female relative 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, began his usual operations upon the floor. He CHAPTER VI 154 proceeded some way with his design of a large boiler in chalk, when h mother arrived with the visitor, and to her dismay found the boy unwa and the floor chalked all over. The relative, however, professed to be pleased with the boy's industry, praised his design, and recommended mother to provide "the little sweep," as she called him, with paper and pencils. Encouraged by his elder brother, he began to practise figure and land drawing, making copies of lithographs, but as yet without any knowled of the rules of perspective and the principles of light and shade. He w on, however, and gradually acquired expertness in copying. At sixteen entered the Bury Mechanic's Institution in order to attend the drawing taught by an amateur who followed the trade of a barber. There he ha lesson a week during three months. The teacher recommended him to obtain from the library Burnet's 'Practical Treatise on Painting;' but as could not yet read with ease, he was under the necessity of getting his mother, and sometimes his elder brother, to read passages from the bo for him while he sat by and listened. Feeling hampered by his ignoran the art of reading, and eager to master the contents of Burnet's book, ceased attending the drawing class at the Institute after the first quar devoted himself to learning reading and writing at home. In this he so succeeded; and when he again entered the Institute and took out 'Bur second time, he was not only able to read it, but to make written extra further use. So ardently did he study the volume, that he used to rise o'clock in the morning to read it and copy out passages; after which h to the foundry at six, worked until six and sometimes eight in the even and returned home to enter with fresh zest upon the study of Burnet, he continued often until a late hour. Parts of his nights were also occu in drawing and making copies of drawings. On one of these--a copy of Leonardo da Vinci's "Last Supper"--he spent an entire night. He went bed indeed, but his mind was so engrossed with the subject that he co not sleep, and rose again to resume his pencil. He next proceeded to try his hand at painting in oil, for which purpose procured some canvas from a draper, stretched it on a frame, coated i with white lead, and began painting on it with colours bought from a CHAPTER VI 155 house-painter. But his work proved a total failure; for the canvas was and knotty, and the paint would not dry. In his extremity he applied to old teacher, the barber, from whom he first learnt that prepared canva to be had, and that there were colours and varnishes made for the spe purpose of oil-painting. As soon therefore, as his means would allow, h bought a small stock of the necessary articles and began afresh,--his amateur master showing him how to paint; and the pupil succeeded so that he excelled the master's copy. His first picture was a copy from an engraving called "Sheep-shearing," and was afterwards sold by him fo half-a-crown. Aided by a shilling Guide to Oil-painting, he went on working at his leisure hours, and gradually acquired a better knowled his materials. He made his own easel and palette, palette-knife, and paint-chest; he bought his paint, brushes, and canvas, as he could rais money by working over-time. This was the slender fund which his pare consented to allow him for the purpose; the burden of supporting a ve large family precluding them from doing more. Often he would walk to Manchester and back in the evenings to buy two or three shillings' wo paint and canvas, returning almost at midnight, after his eighteen mil walk, sometimes wet through and completely exhausted, but borne up throughout by his inexhaustible hope and invincible determination. Th further progress of the self-taught artist is best narrated in his own w as communicated by him in a letter to the author:- "The next pictures I painted," he says, "were a Landscape by Moonligh Fruitpiece, and one or two others; after which I conceived the idea of painting 'The Forge.' I had for some time thought about it, but had not attempted to embody the conception in a drawing. I now, however, ma sketch of the subject upon paper, and then proceeded to paint it on ca The picture simply represents the interior of a large workshop such as have been accustomed to work in, although not of any particular shop therefore, to this extent, an original conception. Having made an outli the subject, I found that, before I could proceed with it successfully, a knowledge of anatomy was indispensable to enable me accurately to delineate the muscles of the figures. My brother Peter came to my assistance at this juncture, and kindly purchased for me Flaxman's 'Anatomical studies,'--a work altogether beyond my means at the time CHAPTER VI 156 it cost twenty-four shillings. This book I looked upon as a great treasu and I studied it laboriously, rising at three o'clock in the morning to dr after it, and occasionally getting my brother Peter to stand for me as a model at that untimely hour. Although I gradually improved myself by practice, it was some time before I felt sufficient confidence to go on w my picture. I also felt hampered by my want of knowledge of perspect which I endeavoured to remedy by carefully studying Brook Taylor's 'Principles;' and shortly after I resumed my painting. While engaged in study of perspective at home, I used to apply for and obtain leave to w at the heavier kinds of smith work at the foundry, and for this reason-time required for heating the heaviest iron work is so much longer tha required for heating the lighter, that it enabled me to secure a numbe spare minutes in the course of the day, which I carefully employed in making diagrams in perspective upon the sheet iron casing in front of hearth at which I worked." Thus assiduously working and studying, James Sharples steadily adva in his knowledge of the principles of art, and acquired greater facility practice. Some eighteen months after the expiry of his apprenticeship painted a portrait of his father, which attracted considerable notice in town; as also did the picture of "The Forge," which he finished soon af His success in portrait-painting obtained for him a commission from th foreman of the shop to paint a family group, and Sharples executed it well that the foreman not only paid him the agreed price of eighteen pounds, but thirty shillings to boot. While engaged on this group he ce to work at the foundry, and he had thoughts of giving up his trade altogether and devoting himself exclusively to painting. He proceeded paint several pictures, amongst others a head of Christ, an original conception, life-size, and a view of Bury; but not obtaining sufficient employment at portraits to occupy his time, or give him the prospect o steady income, he had the good sense to resume his leather apron, an on working at his honest trade of a blacksmith; employing his leisure in engraving his picture of "The Forge," since published. He was induc commence the engraving by the following circumstance. A Mancheste picture-dealer, to whom he showed the painting, let drop the observat that in the hands of a skilful engraver it would make a very good print CHAPTER VI 157 Sharples immediately conceived the idea of engraving it himself, though altogether ignorant of the art. The difficulties which he encountered and successfully overcame in carrying out his project are thus described by himself:- "I had seen an advertisement of a Sheffield steel-plate maker, giving a of the prices at which he supplied plates of various sizes, and, fixing u one of suitable dimensions, I remitted the amount, together with a sm additional sum for which I requested him to send me a few engraving I could not specify the articles wanted, for I did not then know anythin about the process of engraving. However, there duly arrived with the three or four gravers and an etching needle; the latter I spoiled before knew its use. While working at the plate, the Amalgamated Society of Engineers offered a premium for the best design for an emblematical picture, for which I determined to compete, and I was so fortunate as the prize. Shortly after this I removed to Blackburn, where I obtained employment at Messrs. Yates', engineers, as an engine-smith; and continued to employ my leisure time in drawing, painting, and engrav as before. With the engraving I made but very slow progress, owing to difficulties I experienced from not possessing proper tools. I then determined to try to make some that would suit my purpose, and after several failures I succeeded in making many that I have used in the co of my engraving. I was also greatly at a loss for want of a proper magnifying glass, and part of the plate was executed with no other assistance of this sort than what my father's spectacles afforded, thou afterwards succeeded in obtaining a proper magnifier, which was of th utmost use to me. An incident occurred while I was engraving the plat which had almost caused me to abandon it altogether. It sometimes happened that I was obliged to lay it aside for a considerable time, wh other work pressed; and in order to guard it against rust, I was accust to rub over the graven parts with oil. But on examining the plate after of such intervals, I found that the oil had become a dark sticky substa extremely difficult to get out. I tried to pick it out with a needle, but fo that it would almost take as much time as to engrave the parts afresh. in great despair at this, but at length hit upon the expedient of boiling water containing soda, and afterwards rubbing the engraved parts wi CHAPTER VI 158 tooth-brush; and to my delight found the plan succeeded perfectly. My greatest difficulties now over, patience and perseverance were all tha needed to bring my labours to a successful issue. I had neither advice assistance from any one in finishing the plate. If, therefore, the work possess any merit, I can claim it as my own; and if in its accomplishme have contributed to show what can be done by persevering industry a determination, it is all the honour I wish to lay claim to." It would be beside our purpose to enter upon any criticism of "The For as an engraving; its merits having been already fully recognised by th journals. The execution of the work occupied Sharples's leisure evenin hours during a period of five years; and it was only when he took the p to the printer that he for the first time saw an engraved plate produce any other man. To this unvarnished picture of industry and genius, we one other trait, and it is a domestic one. "I have been married seven y says he, "and during that time my greatest pleasure, after I have finish daily labour at the foundry, has been to resume my pencil or graver, frequently until a late hour of the evening, my wife meanwhile sitting my side and reading to me from some interesting book,"--a simple but beautiful testimony to the thorough common sense as well as the genu right-heartedness of this most interesting and deserving workman. The same industry and application which we have found to be necessa order to acquire excellence in painting and sculpture, are equally requ in the sister art of music--the one being the poetry of form and colour, other of the sounds of nature. Handel was an indefatigable and consta worker; he was never cast down by defeat, but his energy seemed to increase the more that adversity struck him. When a prey to his mortifications as an insolvent debtor, he did not give way for a momen in one year produced his 'Saul,' 'Israel,' the music for Dryden's 'Ode,' 'Twelve Grand Concertos,' and the opera of 'Jupiter in Argos,' among t finest of his works. As his biographer says of him, "He braved everyth and, by his unaided self, accomplished the work of twelve men." Haydn, speaking of his art, said, "It consists in taking up a subject and pursuing it." "Work," said Mozart, "is my chief pleasure." Beethoven's CHAPTER VI 159 favourite maxim was, "The barriers are not erected which can say to aspiring talents and industry, 'Thus far and no farther.'" When Mosche submitted his score of 'Fidelio' for the pianoforte to Beethoven, the lat found written at the bottom of the last page, "Finis, with God's help." Beethoven immediately wrote underneath, "O man! help thyself!" This the motto of his artistic life. John Sebastian Bach said of himself, "I wa industrious; whoever is equally sedulous, will be equally successful." B there is no doubt that Bach was born with a passion for music, which formed the mainspring of his industry, and was the true secret of his success. When a mere youth, his elder brother, wishing to turn his abi in another direction, destroyed a collection of studies which the young Sebastian, being denied candles, had copied by moonlight; proving th strong natural bent of the boy's genius. Of Meyerbeer, Bayle thus wro from Milan in 1820:- "He is a man of some talent, but no genius; he liv solitary, working fifteen hours a day at music." Years passed, and Meyerbeer's hard work fully brought out his genius, as displayed in hi 'Roberto,' 'Huguenots,' 'Prophete,' and other works, confessedly amon the greatest operas which have been produced in modern times. Although musical composition is not an art in which Englishmen have yet greatly distinguished themselves, their energies having for the mo taken other and more practical directions, we are not without native illustrations of the power of perseverance in this special pursuit. Arne an upholsterer's son, intended by his father for the legal profession; b love of music was so great, that he could not be withheld from pursuin While engaged in an attorney's office, his means were very limited, bu gratify his tastes, he was accustomed to borrow a livery and go into th gallery of the Opera, then appropriated to domestics. Unknown to his he made great progress with the violin, and the first knowledge his fa had of the circumstance was when accidentally calling at the house of neighbouring gentleman, to his surprise and consternation he found h playing the leading instrument with a party of musicians. This inciden decided the fate of Arne. His father offered no further opposition to hi wishes; and the world thereby lost a lawyer, but gained a musician of taste and delicacy of feeling, who added many valuable works to our s of English music. CHAPTER VI 160 The career of the late William Jackson, author of 'The Deliverance of Israel,' an oratorio which has been successfully performed in the princ towns of his native county of York, furnishes an interesting illustration the triumph of perseverance over difficulties in the pursuit of musical science. He was the son of a miller at Masham, a little town situated i valley of the Yore, in the north-west corner of Yorkshire. Musical taste seems to have been hereditary in the family, for his father played the fi the band of the Masham Volunteers, and was a singer in the parish ch His grandfather also was leading singer and ringer at Masham Church one of the boy's earliest musical treats was to be present at the bell pe on Sunday mornings. During the service, his wonder was still more ex by the organist's performance on the barrel-organ, the doors of which thrown open behind to let the sound fully into the church, by which th stops, pipes, barrels, staples, keyboard, and jacks, were fully exposed, the wonderment of the little boys sitting in the gallery behind, and to more than our young musician. At eight years of age he began to play his father's old fife, which, however, would not sound D; but his mothe remedied the difficulty by buying for him a one-keyed flute; and shortl after, a gentleman of the neighbourhood presented him with a flute wi four silver keys. As the boy made no progress with his "book learning, being fonder of cricket, fives, and boxing, than of his school lessons-- t village schoolmaster giving him up as "a bad job"--his parents sent him to a school at Pateley Bridge. While there he found congenial society i club of village choral singers at Brighouse Gate, and with them he lea the sol-fa-ing gamut on the old English plan. He was thus well drilled reading of music, in which he soon became a proficient. His progress astonished the club, and he returned home full of musical ambition. H learnt to play upon his father's old piano, but with little melodious res and he became eager to possess a finger-organ, but had no means of procuring one. About this time, a neighbouring parish clerk had purch for an insignificant sum, a small disabled barrel-organ, which had gon circuit of the northern counties with a show. The clerk tried to revive t tones of the instrument, but failed; at last he bethought him that he w try the skill of young Jackson, who had succeeded in making some alterations and improvements in the hand-organ of the parish church. accordingly brought it to the lad's house in a donkey cart, and in a sho CHAPTER VI 161 time the instrument was repaired, and played over its old tunes again greatly to the owner's satisfaction. The thought now haunted the youth that he could make a barrel- orga he determined to do so. His father and he set to work, and though wit practice in carpentering, yet, by dint of hard labour and after many fa they at last succeeded; and an organ was constructed which played te tunes very decently, and the instrument was generally regarded as a m in the neighbourhood. Young Jackson was now frequently sent for to r old church organs, and to put new music upon the barrels which he ad to them. All this he accomplished to the satisfaction of his employers, which he proceeded with the construction of a four-stop finger-organ, adapting to it the keys of an old harpsichord. This he learnt to play upon,--studying 'Callcott's Thorough Bass' in the evening, and working his trade of a miller during the day; occasionally also tramping about country as a "cadger," with an ass and a cart. During summer he work the fields, at turnip-time, hay-time, and harvest, but was never withou solace of music in his leisure evening hours. He next tried his hand at musical composition, and twelve of his anthems were shown to the lat Camidge, of York, as "the production of a miller's lad of fourteen." Mr. Camidge was pleased with them, marked the objectionable passages, returned them with the encouraging remark, that they did the youth g credit, and that he must "go on writing." A village band having been set on foot at Masham, young Jackson join and was ultimately appointed leader. He played all the instruments by and thus acquired a considerable practical knowledge of his art: he al composed numerous tunes for the band. A new finger-organ having be presented to the parish church, he was appointed the organist. He now up his employment as a journeyman miller, and commenced tallow-chandling, still employing his spare hours in the study of music 1839 he published his first anthem--'For joy let fertile valleys sing;' an the following year he gained the first prize from the Huddersfield Glee Club, for his 'Sisters of the Lea.' His other anthem 'God be merciful to and the 103rd Psalm, written for a double chorus and orchestra, are w known. In the midst of these minor works, Jackson proceeded with the CHAPTER VII 162 composition of his oratorio,--'The Deliverance of Israel from Babylon.' practice was, to jot down a sketch of the ideas as they presented them to his mind, and to write them out in score in the evenings, after he ha his work in the candle-shop. His oratorio was published in parts, in th course of 1844-5, and he published the last chorus on his twenty-ninth birthday. The work was exceedingly well received, and has been frequ performed with much success in the northern towns. Mr. Jackson eventually settled as a professor of music at Bradford, where he contr in no small degree to the cultivation of the musical taste of that town neighbourhood. Some years since he had the honour of leading his fin company of Bradford choral singers before Her Majesty at Buckingha Palace; on which occasion, as well as at the Crystal Palace, some chor pieces of his composition, were performed with great effect. {22} Such is a brief outline of the career of a self-taught musician, whose life affords but another illustration of the power of self- help, and the force of courage and industry in enabling a man to surmount and overcome early difficulties and obstructions of no ordinary kind. CHAPTER VII --INDUSTRY AND THE PEERAGE "He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, That dare put it to the touch, To gain or lose it all."--Marquis of Montrose. "He hath put down the mighty from their seats; and exalted them of lo degree."--St. Luke. We have already referred to some illustrious Commoners raised from humble to elevated positions by the power of application and industry we might point to even the Peerage itself as affording equally instruct examples. One reason why the Peerage of England has succeeded so w holding its own, arises from the fact that, unlike the peerages of other countries, it has been fed, from time to time, by the best industrial blo the country--the very "liver, heart, and brain of Britain." Like the fable CHAPTER VII 163 Antaeus, it has been invigorated and refreshed by touching its mother and mingling with that most ancient order of nobility--the working ord The blood of all men flows from equally remote sources; and though s are unable to trace their line directly beyond their grandfathers, all ar nevertheless justified in placing at the head of their pedigree the grea progenitors of the race, as Lord Chesterfield did when he wrote, "ADA de Stanhope--EVE de Stanhope." No class is ever long stationary. The mighty fall, and the humble are exalted. New families take the place o old, who disappear among the ranks of the common people. Burke's 'Vicissitudes of Families' strikingly exhibit this rise and fall of families show that the misfortunes which overtake the rich and noble are grea proportion than those which overwhelm the poor. This author points o that of the twenty-five barons selected to enforce the observance of M Charta, there is not now in the House of Peers a single male descenda Civil wars and rebellions ruined many of the old nobility and dispersed their families. Yet their descendants in many cases survive, and are to found among the ranks of the people. Fuller wrote in his 'Worthies,' th "some who justly hold the surnames of Bohuns, Mortimers, and Plantagenets, are hid in the heap of common men." Thus Burke shows two of the lineal descendants of the Earl of Kent, sixth son of Edward were discovered in a butcher and a toll-gatherer; that the great grand Margaret Plantagenet, daughter of the Duke of Clarance, sank to the condition of a cobbler at Newport, in Shropshire; and that among the descendants of the Duke of Gloucester, son of Edward III., was the lat sexton of St George's, Hanover Square. It is understood that the linea descendant of Simon de Montfort, England's premier baron, is a saddl Tooley Street. One of the descendants of the "Proud Percys," a claiman the title of Duke of Northumberland, was a Dublin trunk-maker; and n many years since one of the claimants for the title of Earl of Perth presented himself in the person of a labourer in a Northumberland co Hugh Miller, when working as a stone-mason near Edinburgh, was ser by a hodman, who was one of the numerous claimants for the earldom Crauford--all that was wanted to establish his claim being a missing marriage certificate; and while the work was going on, the cry resoun from the walls many times in the day, of-- "John, Yearl Crauford, bring CHAPTER VII 164 anither hod o'lime." One of Oliver Cromwell's great grandsons was a g on Snow Hill, and others of his descendants died in great poverty. Man barons of proud names and titles have perished, like the sloth, upon th family tree, after eating up all the leaves; while others have been over by adversities which they have been unable to retrieve, and sunk at la poverty and obscurity. Such are the mutabilities of rank and fortune. The great bulk of our peerage is comparatively modern, so far as the t go; but it is not the less noble that it has been recruited to so large an from the ranks of honourable industry. In olden times, the wealth and commerce of London, conducted as it was by energetic and enterprisi men, was a prolific source of peerages. Thus, the earldom of Cornwall was founded by Thomas Cornwallis, the Cheapside merchant; that of E by William Capel, the draper; and that of Craven by William Craven, th merchant tailor. The modern Earl of Warwick is not descended from th "King-maker," but from William Greville, the woolstapler; whilst the modern dukes of Northumberland find their head, not in the Percies, b Hugh Smithson, a respectable London apothecary. The founders of the families of Dartmouth, Radnor, Ducie, and Pomfret, were respectively skinner, a silk manufacturer, a merchant tailor, and a Calais merchant whilst the founders of the peerages of Tankerville, Dormer, and Coven were mercers. The ancestors of Earl Romney, and Lord Dudley and Wa were goldsmiths and jewellers; and Lord Dacres was a banker in the r of Charles I., as Lord Overstone is in that of Queen Victoria. Edward Osborne, the founder of the Dukedom of Leeds, was apprentice to Wil Hewet, a rich clothworker on London Bridge, whose only daughter he courageously rescued from drowning, by leaping into the Thames afte and eventually married. Among other peerages founded by trade are t of Fitzwilliam, Leigh, Petre, Cowper, Darnley, Hill, and Carrington. Th founders of the houses of Foley and Normanby were remarkable men many respects, and, as furnishing striking examples of energy of char the story of their lives is worthy of preservation. The father of Richard Foley, the founder of the family, was a small yeo living in the neighbourhood of Stourbridge in the time of Charles I. Th place was then the centre of the iron manufacture of the midland distr CHAPTER VII 165 and Richard was brought up to work at one of the branches of the trade--that of nail-making. He was thus a daily observer of the great la and loss of time caused by the clumsy process then adopted for dividin rods of iron in the manufacture of nails. It appeared that the Stourbrid nailers were gradually losing their trade in consequence of the import of nails from Sweden, by which they were undersold in the market. It became known that the Swedes were enabled to make their nails so m cheaper, by the use of splitting mills and machinery, which had comple superseded the laborious process of preparing the rods for nail-makin practised in England. Richard Foley, having ascertained this much, determined to make him master of the new process. He suddenly disappeared from the neighbourhood of Stourbridge, and was not heard of for several years one knew whither he had gone, not even his own family; for he had no informed them of his intention, lest he should fail. He had little or no money in his pocket, but contrived to get to Hull, where he engaged h on board a ship bound for a Swedish port, and worked his passage the The only article of property which he possessed was his fiddle, and on landing in Sweden he begged and fiddled his way to the Dannemora m near Upsala. He was a capital musician, as well as a pleasant fellow, a soon ingratiated himself with the iron-workers. He was received into t works, to every part of which he had access; and he seized the opport thus afforded him of storing his mind with observations, and masterin he thought, the mechanism of iron splitting. After a continued stay for purpose, he suddenly disappeared from amongst his kind friends the miners--no one knew whither. Returned to England, he communicated the results of his voyage to M Knight and another person at Stourbridge, who had sufficient confiden him to advance the requisite funds for the purpose of erecting buildin machinery for splitting iron by the new process. But when set to work the great vexation and disappointment of all, and especially of Richard Foley, it was found that the machinery would not act--at all events it w not split the bars of iron. Again Foley disappeared. It was thought tha shame and mortification at his failure had driven him away for ever. N CHAPTER VII 166 so! Foley had determined to master this secret of iron- splitting, and h would yet do it. He had again set out for Sweden, accompanied by his fiddle as before, and found his way to the iron works, where he was joyfully welcomed by the miners; and, to make sure of their fiddler, th this time lodged him in the very splitting-mill itself. There was such an apparent absence of intelligence about the man, except in fiddle-playi that the miners entertained no suspicions as to the object of their min whom they thus enabled to attain the very end and aim of his life. He carefully examined the works, and soon discovered the cause of his fa He made drawings or tracings of the machinery as well as he could, th this was a branch of art quite new to him; and after remaining at the p long enough to enable him to verify his observations, and to impress t mechanical arrangements clearly and vividly on his mind, he again lef miners, reached a Swedish port, and took ship for England. A man of s purpose could not but succeed. Arrived amongst his surprised friends now completed his arrangements, and the results were entirely succe By his skill and his industry he soon laid the foundations of a large for at the same time that he restored the business of an extensive district himself continued, during his life, to carry on his trade, aiding and encouraging all works of benevolence in his neighbourhood. He found and endowed a school at Stourbridge; and his son Thomas (a great benefactor of Kidderminster), who was High Sheriff of Worcestershire the time of "The Rump," founded and endowed an hospital, still in existence, for the free education of children at Old Swinford. All the e Foleys were Puritans. Richard Baxter seems to have been on familiar a intimate terms with various members of the family, and makes frequen mention of them in his 'Life and Times.' Thomas Foley, when appointe high sheriff of the county, requested Baxter to preach the customary sermon before him; and Baxter in his 'Life' speaks of him as "of so just blameless dealing, that all men he ever had to do with magnified his g integrity and honesty, which were questioned by none." The family wa ennobled in the reign of Charles the Second. William Phipps, the founder of the Mulgrave or Normanby family, was man quite as remarkable in his way as Richard Foley. His father was a gunsmith--a robust Englishman settled at Woolwich, in Maine, then CHAPTER VII 167 forming part of our English colonies in America. He was born in 1651, of a family of not fewer than twenty-six children (of whom twenty-one were sons), whose only fortune lay in their stout hearts and strong arm William seems to have had a dash of the Danish-sea blood in his veins did not take kindly to the quiet life of a shepherd in which he spent hi early years. By nature bold and adventurous, he longed to become a s and roam through the world. He sought to join some ship; but not bein able to find one, he apprenticed himself to a shipbuilder, with whom h thoroughly learnt his trade, acquiring the arts of reading and writing his leisure hours. Having completed his apprenticeship and removed t Boston, he wooed and married a widow of some means, after which he up a little shipbuilding yard of his own, built a ship, and, putting to se her, he engaged in the lumber trade, which he carried on in a plodding laborious way for the space of about ten years. It happened that one day, whilst passing through the crooked streets o Boston, he overheard some sailors talking to each other of a wreck wh had just taken place off the Bahamas; that of a Spanish ship, supposed have much money on board. His adventurous spirit was at once kindle and getting together a likely crew without loss of time, he set sail for Bahamas. The wreck being well in-shore, he easily found it, and succe in recovering a great deal of its cargo, but very little money; and the r was, that he barely defrayed his expenses. His success had been such however, as to stimulate his enterprising spirit; and when he was told another and far more richly laden vessel which had been wrecked nea de la Plata more than half a century before, he forthwith formed the resolution of raising the wreck, or at all events of fishing up the treasu Being too poor, however, to undertake such an enterprise without pow help, he set sail for England in the hope that he might there obtain it. fame of his success in raising the wreck off the Bahamas had already preceded him. He applied direct to the Government. By his urgent enthusiasm, he succeeded in overcoming the usual inertia of official m and Charles II. eventually placed at his disposal the "Rose Algier," a sh eighteen guns and ninety-five men, appointing him to the chief comma CHAPTER VII 168 Phipps then set sail to find the Spanish ship and fish up the treasure. H reached the coast of Hispaniola in safety; but how to find the sunken s was the great difficulty. The fact of the wreck was more than fifty year old; and Phipps had only the traditionary rumours of the event to work upon. There was a wide coast to explore, and an outspread ocean with any trace whatever of the argosy which lay somewhere at its bottom. the man was stout in heart and full of hope. He set his seamen to work drag along the coast, and for weeks they went on fishing up sea-weed shingle, and bits of rock. No occupation could be more trying to seam and they began to grumble one to another, and to whisper that the ma command had brought them on a fool's errand. At length the murmurers gained head, and the men broke into open m A body of them rushed one day on to the quarter-deck, and demanded the voyage should be relinquished. Phipps, however, was not a man to intimidated; he seized the ringleaders, and sent the others back to the duty. It became necessary to bring the ship to anchor close to a small for the purpose of repairs; and, to lighten her, the chief part of the sto was landed. Discontent still increasing amongst the crew, a new plot w laid amongst the men on shore to seize the ship, throw Phipps overbo and start on a piratical cruize against the Spaniards in the South Seas was necessary to secure the services of the chief ship carpenter, who consequently made privy to the pilot. This man proved faithful, and at told the captain of his danger. Summoning about him those whom he k to be loyal, Phipps had the ship's guns loaded which commanded the s and ordered the bridge communicating with the vessel to be drawn up When the mutineers made their appearance, the captain hailed them, told the men he would fire upon them if they approached the stores (s land),--when they drew back; on which Phipps had the stores reshippe under cover of his guns. The mutineers, fearful of being left upon the barren island, threw down their arms and implored to be permitted to to their duty. The request was granted, and suitable precautions were against future mischief. Phipps, however, took the first opportunity of landing the mutinous part of the crew, and engaging other men in the places; but, by the time that he could again proceed actively with his explorations, he found it absolutely necessary to proceed to England f CHAPTER VII 169 purpose of repairing the ship. He had now, however, gained more precise information as to the spot where the Spanish treasure ship had sunk; and though as yet baffled, he was more confident than ever of the eventual success of his enterprise. Returned to London, Phipps reported the result of his voyage to the Admiralty, who professed to be pleased with his exertions; but he had unsuccessful, and they would not entrust him with another king's ship James II. was now on the throne, and the Government was in trouble; Phipps and his golden project appealed to them in vain. He next tried raise the requisite means by a public subscription. At first he was laug at; but his ceaseless importunity at length prevailed, and after four ye dinning of his project into the ears of the great and influential--during which time he lived in poverty--he at length succeeded. A company wa formed in twenty shares, the Duke of Albermarle, son of General Mon taking the chief interest in it, and subscribing the principal part of the necessary fund for the prosecution of the enterprise. Like Foley, Phipps proved more fortunate in his second voyage than in first. The ship arrived without accident at Port de la Plata, in the neighbourhood of the reef of rocks supposed to have been the scene o wreck. His first object was to build a stout boat capable of carrying ei ten oars, in constructing which Phipps used the adze himself. It is also that he constructed a machine for the purpose of exploring the bottom the sea similar to what is now known as the Diving Bell. Such a machi was found referred to in books, but Phipps knew little of books, and m said to have re-invented the apparatus for his own use. He also engag Indian divers, whose feats of diving for pearls, and in submarine operations, were very remarkable. The tender and boat having been ta the reef, the men were set to work, the diving bell was sunk, and the various modes of dragging the bottom of the sea were employed continuously for many weeks, but without any prospect of success. Ph however, held on valiantly, hoping almost against hope. At length, one a sailor, looking over the boat's side down into the clear water, observ curious sea-plant growing in what appeared to be a crevice of the rock he called upon an Indian diver to go down and fetch it for him. On the CHAPTER VII 170 man coming up with the weed, he reported that a number of ships gun were lying in the same place. The intelligence was at first received wi incredulity, but on further investigation it proved to be correct. Search made, and presently a diver came up with a solid bar of silver in his ar When Phipps was shown it, he exclaimed, "Thanks be to God! we are a made men." Diving bell and divers now went to work with a will, and i few days, treasure was brought up to the value of about 300,000 poun with which Phipps set sail for England. On his arrival, it was urged up the king that he should seize the ship and its cargo, under the pretenc Phipps, when soliciting his Majesty's permission, had not given accura information respecting the business. But the king replied, that he kne Phipps to be an honest man, and that he and his friends should divide whole treasure amongst them, even though he had returned with doub value. Phipps's share was about 20,000 pounds, and the king, to show approval of his energy and honesty in conducting the enterprise, conf upon him the honour of knighthood. He was also made High Sheriff of New England; and during the time he held the office, he did valiant se for the mother country and the colonists against the French, by exped against Port Royal and Quebec. He also held the post of Governor of Massachusetts, from which he returned to England, and died in Londo 1695. Phipps throughout the latter part of his career, was not ashamed to al the lowness of his origin, and it was matter of honest pride to him tha had risen from the condition of common ship carpenter to the honours knighthood and the government of a province. When perplexed with p business, he would often declare that it would be easier for him to go to his broad axe again. He left behind him a character for probity, hon patriotism, and courage, which is certainly not the least noble inherita the house of Normanby. William Petty, the founder of the house of Lansdowne, was a man of lik energy and public usefulness in his day. He was the son of a clothier in humble circumstances, at Romsey, in Hampshire, where he was born i 1623. In his boyhood he obtained a tolerable education at the gramma school of his native town; after which he determined to improve himse CHAPTER VII 171 study at the University of Caen, in Normandy. Whilst there he contrive support himself unassisted by his father, carrying on a sort of small pe trade with "a little stock of merchandise." Returning to England, he ha himself bound apprentice to a sea captain, who "drubbed him with a r end" for the badness of his sight. He left the navy in disgust, taking to study of medicine. When at Paris he engaged in dissection, during wh time he also drew diagrams for Hobbes, who was then writing his trea on Optics. He was reduced to such poverty that he subsisted for two o three weeks entirely on walnuts. But again he began to trade in a sma way, turning an honest penny, and he was enabled shortly to return to England with money in his pocket. Being of an ingenious mechanical t we find him taking out a patent for a letter-copying machine. He bega write upon the arts and sciences, and practised chemistry and physic such success that his reputation shortly became considerable. Associa with men of science, the project of forming a Society for its prosecutio was discussed, and the first meetings of the infant Royal Society were at his lodgings. At Oxford he acted for a time as deputy to the anatom professor there, who had a great repugnance to dissection. In 1652 hi industry was rewarded by the appointment of physician to the army in Ireland, whither he went; and whilst there he was the medical attenda three successive lords-lieutenant, Lambert, Fleetwood, and Henry Cromwell. Large grants of forfeited land having been awarded to the Puritan soldiery, Petty observed that the lands were very inaccurately measured; and in the midst of his many avocations he undertook to do work himself. His appointments became so numerous and lucrative th was charged by the envious with corruption, and removed from them but he was again taken into favour at the Restoration. Petty was a most indefatigable contriver, inventor, and organizer of industry. One of his inventions was a double-bottomed ship, to sail aga wind and tide. He published treatises on dyeing, on naval philosophy, woollen cloth manufacture, on political arithmetic, and many other subjects. He founded iron works, opened lead mines, and commenced pilchard fishery and a timber trade; in the midst of which he found tim take part in the discussions of the Royal Society, to which he largely contributed. He left an ample fortune to his sons, the eldest of whom w CHAPTER VII 172 created Baron Shelburne. His will was a curious document, singularly illustrative of his character; containing a detail of the principal events life, and the gradual advancement of his fortune. His sentiments on pauperism are characteristic: "As for legacies for the poor," said he, "I at a stand; as for beggars by trade and election, I give them nothing; a impotents by the hand of God, the public ought to maintain them; as f those who have been bred to no calling nor estate, they should be put their kindred;" . . . "wherefore I am contented that I have assisted all m poor relations, and put many into a way of getting their own bread; ha laboured in public works; and by inventions have sought out real obje charity; and I do hereby conjure all who partake of my estate, from tim time, to do the same at their peril. Nevertheless to answer custom, an take the surer side, I give 20l. to the most wanting of the parish where die." He was interred in the fine old Norman church of Romsey--the to wherein he was born a poor man's son--and on the south side of the ch still to be seen a plain slab, with the inscription, cut by an illiterate workman, "Here Layes Sir William Petty." Another family, ennobled by invention and trade in our own day, is tha Strutt of Belper. Their patent of nobility was virtually secured by Jede Strutt in 1758, when he invented his machine for making ribbed stock and thereby laid the foundations of a fortune which the subsequent be of the name have largely increased and nobly employed. The father of Jedediah was a farmer and malster, who did but little for the education his children; yet they all prospered. Jedediah was the second son, and a boy assisted his father in the work of the farm. At an early age he exhibited a taste for mechanics, and introduced several improvements rude agricultural implements of the period. On the death of his uncle succeeded to a farm at Blackwall, near Normanton, long in the tenanc the family, and shortly after he married Miss Wollatt, the daughter of a Derby hosier. Having learned from his wife's brother that various unsuccessful attempts had been made to manufacture ribbed-stocking proceeded to study the subject with a view to effect what others had f in accomplishing. He accordingly obtained a stocking-frame, and after mastering its construction and mode of action, he proceeded to introd new combinations, by means of which he succeeded in effecting a var CHAPTER VII 173 in the plain looped-work of the frame, and was thereby enabled to tur "ribbed" hosiery. Having secured a patent for the improved machine, h removed to Derby, and there entered largely on the manufacture of ribbed-stockings, in which he was very successful. He afterwards join Arkwright, of the merits of whose invention he fully satisfied himself, a found the means of securing his patent, as well as erecting a large cotton-mill at Cranford, in Derbyshire. After the expiry of the partners with Arkwright, the Strutts erected extensive cotton-mills at Milford, n Belper, which worthily gives its title to the present head of the family. sons of the founder were, like their father, distinguished for their mechanical ability. Thus William Strutt, the eldest, is said to have inve a self-acting mule, the success of which was only prevented by the mechanical skill of that day being unequal to its manufacture. Edward son of William, was a man of eminent mechanical genius, having early discovered the principle of suspension-wheels for carriages: he had a wheelbarrow and two carts made on the principle, which were used o farm near Belper. It may be added that the Strutts have throughout be distinguished for their noble employment of the wealth which their ind and skill have brought them; that they have sought in all ways to impr the moral and social condition of the work-people in their employment that they have been liberal donors in every good cause--of which the presentation, by Mr. Joseph Strutt, of the beautiful park or Arboretum Derby, as a gift to the townspeople for ever, affords only one of many illustrations. The concluding words of the short address which he deli on presenting this valuable gift are worthy of being quoted and remembered:- "As the sun has shone brightly on me through life, it wo be ungrateful in me not to employ a portion of the fortune I possess in promoting the welfare of those amongst whom I live, and by whose industry I have been aided in its organisation." No less industry and energy have been displayed by the many brave m both in present and past times, who have earned the peerage by their on land and at sea. Not to mention the older feudal lords, whose tenur depended upon military service, and who so often led the van of the English armies in great national encounters, we may point to Nelson, Vincent, and Lyons--to Wellington, Hill, Hardinge, Clyde, and many mo CHAPTER VII 174 in recent times, who have nobly earned their rank by their distinguish services. But plodding industry has far oftener worked its way to the peerage by the honourable pursuit of the legal profession, than by any other. No fewer than seventy British peerages, including two dukedom have been founded by successful lawyers. Mansfield and Erskine were true, of noble family; but the latter used to thank God that out of his o family he did not know a lord. {23} The others were, for the most par sons of attorneys, grocers, clergymen, merchants, and hardworking members of the middle class. Out of this profession have sprung the peerages of Howard and Cavendish, the first peers of both families ha been judges; those of Aylesford, Ellenborough, Guildford, Shaftesbury Hardwicke, Cardigan, Clarendon, Camden, Ellesmere, Rosslyn; and ot nearer our own day, such as Tenterden, Eldon, Brougham, Denman, Tr Lyndhurst, St. Leonards, Cranworth, Campbell, and Chelmsford. Lord Lyndhurst's father was a portrait painter, and that of St. Leonard perfumer and hairdresser in Burlington Street. Young Edward Sugden originally an errand-boy in the office of the late Mr. Groom, of Henriet Street, Cavendish Square, a certificated conveyancer; and it was there the future Lord Chancellor of Ireland obtained his first notions of law. origin of the late Lord Tenterden was perhaps the humblest of all, nor he ashamed of it; for he felt that the industry, study, and application, b means of which he achieved his eminent position, were entirely due to himself. It is related of him, that on one occasion he took his son Char a little shed, then standing opposite the western front of Canterbury Cathedral, and pointing it out to him, said, "Charles, you see this little I have brought you here on purpose to show it you. In that shop your grandfather used to shave for a penny: that is the proudest reflection life." When a boy, Lord Tenterden was a singer in the Cathedral, and i curious circumstance that his destination in life was changed by a disappointment. When he and Mr. Justice Richards were going the Ho Circuit together, they went to service in the cathedral; and on Richard commending the voice of a singing man in the choir, Lord Tenterden s "Ah! that is the only man I ever envied! When at school in this town, w were candidates for a chorister's place, and he obtained it." CHAPTER VII 175 Not less remarkable was the rise to the same distinguished office of L Chief Justice, of the rugged Kenyon and the robust Ellenborough; nor he a less notable man who recently held the same office--the astute Lo Campbell, late Lord Chancellor of England, son of a parish minister in Fifeshire. For many years he worked hard as a reporter for the press, diligently preparing himself for the practice of his profession. It is said him, that at the beginning of his career, he was accustomed to walk fr county town to county town when on circuit, being as yet too poor to a the luxury of posting. But step by step he rose slowly but surely to tha eminence and distinction which ever follow a career of industry honou and energetically pursued, in the legal, as in every other profession. There have been other illustrious instances of Lords Chancellors who plodded up the steep of fame and honour with equal energy and succe The career of the late Lord Eldon is perhaps one of the most remarkab examples. He was the son of a Newcastle coal- fitter; a mischievous ra than a studious boy; a great scapegrace at school, and the subject of m terrible thrashings,- -for orchard-robbing was one of the favourite exp of the future Lord Chancellor. His father first thought of putting him apprentice to a grocer, and afterwards had almost made up his mind t bring him up to his own trade of a coal-fitter. But by this time his elde William (afterwards Lord Stowell) who had gained a scholarship at Ox wrote to his father, "Send Jack up to me, I can do better for him." John sent up to Oxford accordingly, where, by his brother's influence and h own application, he succeeded in obtaining a fellowship. But when at during the vacation, he was so unfortunate--or rather so fortunate, as 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 fo He had neither house nor home when he married, and had not yet ear penny. He lost his fellowship, and at the same time shut himself out fr preferment in the Church, for which he had been destined. He accord turned his attention to the study of the law. To a friend he wrote, "I ha married rashly; but it is my determination to work hard to provide for woman I love." CHAPTER VII 176 John Scott came up to London, and took a small house in Cursitor Lan where he settled down to the study of the law. He worked with great diligence and resolution; rising at four every morning and studying til at night, binding a wet towel round his head to keep himself awake. To poor to study under a special pleader, he copied out three folio volume from a manuscript collection of precedents. Long after, when Lord Chancellor, passing down Cursitor Lane one day, he said to his secreta "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 len called to the bar, he waited long for employment. His first year's earni amounted to only nine shillings. For four years he assiduously attende London Courts and the Northern Circuit, with little better success. Ev his native town, he seldom had other than pauper cases to defend. Th results were indeed so discouraging, that he had almost determined to relinquish his chance of London business, and settle down in some provincial town as a country barrister. His brother William wrote hom "Business is dull with poor Jack, very dull indeed!" But as he had esca being a grocer, a coal-fitter, and a country parson so did he also escap being a country lawyer. An opportunity at length occurred which enabled John Scott to exhibit large legal knowledge which he had so laboriously acquired. In a case which he was engaged, he urged a legal point against the wishes both attorney and client who employed him. The Master of the Rolls decide against him, but on an appeal to the House of Lords, Lord Thurlow reversed the decision on the very point that Scott had urged. On leavi House that day, a solicitor tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Youn man, your bread and butter's cut for life." And the prophecy proved a one. Lord Mansfield used to say that he knew no interval between no business and 3000l. a-year, and Scott might have told the same story; rapid was his progress, that in 1783, when only thirty-two, he was appointed King's Counsel, was at the head of the Northern Circuit, an in Parliament for the borough of Weobley. It was in the dull but unflinc drudgery of the early part of his career that he laid the foundation of h future success. He won his spurs by perseverance, knowledge, and ab diligently cultivated. He was successively appointed to the offices of CHAPTER VII 177 solicitor and attorney-general, and rose steadily upwards to the highe office that the Crown had to bestow--that of Lord Chancellor of Englan 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 to that profession. As a stud Edinburgh, he distinguished himself by the steadiness with which he worked, and the application which he devoted to the science of medic Returned to Kirkby Lonsdale, he took an active part in his father's pra but he had no liking for the profession, and grew discontented with th obscurity of a country town. He went on, nevertheless, diligently impr himself, and engaged on speculations in the higher branches of physio In conformity with his own wish, his father consented to send him to Cambridge, where it was his intention to take a medical degree with t view of practising in the metropolis. Close application to his studies, however, threw him out of health, and with a view to re- establishing h strength he accepted the appointment of travelling physician to Lord Oxford. While abroad he mastered Italian, and acquired a great admir for Italian literature, but no greater liking for medicine than before. O contrary, he determined to abandon it; but returning to Cambridge, he his degree; and that he worked hard may be inferred from the fact tha was senior wrangler of his year. Disappointed in his desire to enter th army, he turned to the bar, and entered a student of the Inner Temple. worked as hard at law as he had done at medicine. Writing to his fathe said, "Everybody says to me, 'You are certain of success in the end--on persevere;' and though I don't well understand how this is to happen, believe it as much as I can, and I shall not fail to do everything in my power." At twenty-eight he was called to the bar, and had every step in yet to make. His means were straitened, and he lived upon the contrib of his friends. For years he studied and waited. Still no business came stinted himself in recreation, in clothes, and even in the necessaries o struggling on indefatigably through all. Writing home, he "confessed t he hardly knew how he should be able to struggle on till he had fair ti and opportunity to establish himself." After three years' waiting, still without success, he wrote to his friends that rather than be a burden u them longer, he was willing to give the matter up and return to Cambr CHAPTER VIII 178 "where he was sure of support and some profit." The friends at home s him another small remittance, and he persevered. Business gradually in. Acquitting himself creditably in small matters, he was at length entrusted with cases of greater importance. He was a man who never missed an opportunity, nor allowed a legitimate chance of improvemen escape him. His unflinching industry soon began to tell upon his fortu few more years and he was not only enabled to do without assistance home, but he was in a position to pay back with interest the debts whi had incurred. The clouds had dispersed, and the after career of Henry Bickersteth was one of honour, of emolument, and of distinguished fam He ended his career as Master of the Rolls, sitting in the House of Pee Baron Langdale. His life affords only another illustration of the power patience, perseverance, and conscientious working, in elevating the character of the individual, and crowning his labours with the most complete success. Such are a few of the distinguished men who have honourably worked way to the highest position, and won the richest rewards of their profe by the diligent exercise of qualities in many respects of an ordinary character, but made potent by the force of application and industry. CHAPTER VIII --ENERGY AND COURAGE "A coeur vaillant rien d'impossible."--Jacques Coeur. "Den Muthigen gehort die Welt."--German Proverb. "In every work that he began . . . he did it with all his heart, and prospered."--II. Chron. XXXI. 21. There is a famous speech recorded of an old Norseman, thoroughly characteristic of the Teuton. "I believe neither in idols nor demons," sa he, "I put my sole trust in my own strength of body and soul." The anc crest of a pickaxe with the motto of "Either I will find a way or make o CHAPTER VIII 179 was an expression of the same sturdy independence which to this day distinguishes the descendants of the Northmen. Indeed nothing could more characteristic of the Scandinavian mythology, than that it had a with a hammer. A man's character is seen in small matters; and from e so slight a test as the mode in which a man wields a hammer, his ener may in some measure be inferred. Thus an eminent Frenchman hit off single phrase the characteristic quality of the inhabitants of a particul district, in which a friend of his proposed to settle and buy land. "Bew said he, "of making a purchase there; I know the men of that departm the pupils who come from it to our veterinary school at Paris DO NOR STRIKE HARD UPON THE ANVIL; they want energy; and you will not get a satisfactory return on any capital you may invest there." A fine a just appreciation of character, indicating the thoughtful observer; and strikingly illustrative of the fact that it is the energy of the individual m that gives strength to a State, and confers a value even upon the very which they cultivate. As the French proverb has it: "Tant vaut l'homme vaut sa terre." The cultivation of this quality is of the greatest importance; resolute determination in the pursuit of worthy objects being the foundation of true greatness of character. Energy enables a man to force his way th irksome drudgery and dry details, and carries him onward and upwar every station in life. It accomplishes more than genius, with not one-h the disappointment and peril. It is not eminent talent that is required ensure success in any pursuit, so much as purpose,--not merely the po to achieve, but the will to labour energetically and perseveringly. Hen energy of will may be defined to be the very central power of characte man--in a word, it is the Man himself. It gives impulse to his every act and soul to every effort. True hope is based on it,--and it is hope that g the real perfume to life. There is a fine heraldic motto on a broken hel in Battle Abbey, "L'espoir est ma force," which might be the motto of e man's life. "Woe unto him that is fainthearted," says the son of Sirach. There is, indeed, no blessing equal to the possession of a stout heart. if a man fail in his efforts, it will be a satisfaction to him to enjoy the consciousness of having done his best. In humble life nothing can be m cheering and beautiful than to see a man combating suffering by patie CHAPTER VIII 180 triumphing in his integrity, and who, when his feet are bleeding and h limbs failing him, still walks upon his courage. Mere wishes and desires but engender a sort of green sickness in you minds, unless they are promptly embodied in act and deed. It will not merely to wait as so many do, "until Blucher comes up," but they must struggle on and persevere in the mean time, as Wellington did. The go purpose once formed must be carried out with alacrity and without swerving. In most conditions of life, drudgery and toil are to be cheerf endured as the best and most wholesome discipline. "In life," said Ary Scheffer, "nothing bears fruit except by labour of mind or body. To stri and still strive--such is life; and in this respect mine is fulfilled; but I d to say, with just pride, that nothing has ever shaken my courage. With strong soul, and a noble aim, one can do what one wills, morally speak Hugh Miller said the only school in which he was properly taught was 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 o frivolous pretexts, is on the sure road to ultimate failure. Let any task undertaken as a thing not possible to be evaded, and it will soon come performed with alacrity and cheerfulness. Charles IX. of Sweden was firm believer in the power of will, even in youth. Laying his hand on th head of his youngest son when engaged on a difficult task, he exclaim "He SHALL do it! he SHALL do it!" The habit of application becomes easy in time, like every other habit. Thus persons with comparatively moderate powers will accomplish much, if they apply themselves who and indefatigably to one thing at a time. Fowell Buxton placed his confidence in ordinary means and extraordinary application; realizing scriptural injunction, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with al might;" and he attributed his own success in life to his practice of "be whole man to one thing at a time." Nothing that is of real worth can be achieved without courageous wor Man owes his growth chiefly to that active striving of the will, that encounter with difficulty, which we call effort; and it is astonishing to how often results apparently impracticable are thus made possible. An CHAPTER VIII 181 intense anticipation itself transforms possibility into reality; our desire being often but the precursors 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 b Marshal of France and a great general." His ardent desire was the presentiment of his success; for the young officer 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 o 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 power of mind over body no doubt great, but it may be strained until the physical power breaks altogether. It is related of Muley Moluc, the Moorish leader, that, whe lying ill, almost worn out by an incurable disease, a battle took place between his troops and the Portuguese; when, starting from his litter great crisis of the fight, he rallied his army, led them to victory, and instantly afterwards sank exhausted and expired. It is will,--force of purpose,--that enables a man to do or be whatever h 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, join the Divine, that whatever we wish to be, seriously, and with a true intention, that we become. No one ardently wishes to be submissive, patient, modest, or liberal, who does not become what he wishes." The story is told of a working carpenter, who was observed one day planin magistrate's bench which he was repairing, with more than usual carefulness; and when asked the reason, he replied, "Because I wish t 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 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 as a mere straw thrown u CHAPTER VIII 182 the water to mark the direction of the current, but that he has within power of a strong swimmer, and is capable of striking out for himself, buffeting with the waves, and directing to a great extent his own independent course. There is no absolute constraint upon our volition we feel and know that we are not bound, as by a spell, with reference actions. It would paralyze all desire of excellence were we to think otherwise. The entire business and conduct of life, with its domestic r its social arrangements, and its public institutions, proceed upon the practical conviction that the will is free. Without this where would be responsibility?--and what the advantage of teaching, advising, preachi 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, 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 wholly ours, and it rests solely with ourselves individually, whether we give it the right or the wrong direction. Our habits or our temptations not our masters, but we of them. Even in yielding, conscience tells us might resist; and that were we determined to master them, there wou be required for that purpose a stronger resolution than we know ours to be capable of exercising. "You are now at the age," said Lamennais once, addressing a gay youth, " which a decision must be formed by you; a little later, and you may have t groan within the tomb which you yourself have dug, without the power o 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 floating 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 wha pleased, provided he formed a strong resolution and held to it. Writing one of his sons, he said to him, "You are now at that period of life, in w you must make a turn to the right or the left. You must now give proof principle, determination, and strength of mind; or you must sink into idleness, and acquire the habits and character of a desultory, ineffecti young man; and if once you fall to that point, you will find it no easy m CHAPTER VIII 183 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 happiness, and all m prosperity in life, have resulted from the change I made at your age. I seriously resolve to be energetic and industrious, depend upon it that will for your whole life have reason to rejoice that you were wise enou form and to act upon that determination." As will, considered without regard to direction, is simply constancy, firmness, perseverance, it wil obvious that everything depends upon right direction and motives. Dir towards the enjoyment of the senses, the strong will may be a demon, the intellect merely its debased slave; but directed towards good, the will is a king, and the intellect the minister of man's highest well-bein "Where there is a will there is a way," is an old and true saying. He wh resolves upon doing a thing, by that very resolution often scales the b to it, and secures its achievement. To think we are able, is almost to b so--to determine upon attainment is frequently attainment itself. Thus earnest resolution has often seemed to have about it almost a savour o omnipotence. The strength of Suwarrow's character lay in his power o willing, and, like most resolute persons, he preached it up as a system "You can only half will," he would say to people who failed. Like Richelieu and Napoleon, he would have the word "impossible" banishe from the dictionary. "I don't know," "I can't," and "impossible," were w which he detested above all others. "Learn! Do! Try!" he would exclaim His biographer has said of him, that he furnished a remarkable illustr of what may be effected by the energetic development and exercise of faculties, the germs of which at least are in every human heart. One of Napoleon's favourite maxims was, "The truest wisdom is a reso determination." His life, beyond most others, vividly showed what a powerful and unscrupulous will could accomplish. He threw his whole force of body and mind direct upon his work. Imbecile rulers and the nations they governed went down before him in succession. He was to that the Alps stood in the way of his armies--"There shall be no Alps," said, and the road across the Simplon was constructed, through a dist formerly almost inaccessible. "Impossible," said he, "is a word only to found in the dictionary of fools." He was a man who toiled terribly; CHAPTER VIII 184 sometimes employing and exhausting four secretaries at a time. He sp no one, not even himself. His influence inspired other men, and put a life into them. "I made my generals out of mud," he said. But all was o avail; for Napoleon's intense selfishness was his ruin, and the ruin of France, which he left a prey to anarchy. His life taught the lesson that power, however energetically wielded, without beneficence, is fatal to possessor and its subjects; and that knowledge, or knowingness, witho goodness, is but the incarnate principle of Evil. Our own Wellington was a far greater man. Not less resolute, firm, an persistent, but more self-denying, conscientious, and truly patriotic. Napoleon's aim was "Glory;" Wellington's watchword, like Nelson's, w "Duty." The former word, it is said, does not once occur in his despatc the latter often, but never accompanied by any high-sounding profess The greatest difficulties could neither embarrass nor intimidate Wellin his energy invariably rising in proportion to the obstacles to be surmo The patience, the firmness, the resolution, with which he bore through maddening vexations and gigantic difficulties of the Peninsular campa is, perhaps, one of the sublimest things to be found in history. In Spain Wellington not only exhibited the genius of the general, but the comprehensive wisdom of the statesman. Though his natural temper w irritable in the extreme, his high sense of duty enabled him to restrain and to those about him his patience seemed absolutely inexhaustible. great character stands untarnished by ambition, by avarice, or any low passion. Though a man of powerful individuality, he yet displayed a gr variety of endowment. The equal of Napoleon in generalship, he was a prompt, vigorous, and daring as Clive; as wise a statesman as Cromwe and as pure and high-minded as Washington. The great Wellington lef behind him an enduring reputation, founded on toilsome campaigns w skilful combination, by fortitude which nothing could exhaust, by subl daring, and perhaps by still sublimer patience. Energy usually displays itself in promptitude and decision. When Ledy the traveller was asked by the African Association when he would be r to set out for Africa, he immediately answered, "To- morrow morning." Blucher's promptitude obtained for him the cognomen of "Marshal CHAPTER VIII 185 Forwards" throughout the Prussian army. When John Jervis, afterward Earl St. Vincent, was asked when he would be ready to join his ship, h replied, "Directly." And when Sir Colin Campbell, appointed to the command of the Indian army, was asked when he could set out, his an was, "To-morrow,"--an earnest of his subsequent success. For it is rapi decision, and a similar promptitude in action, such as taking instant advantage of an enemy's mistakes, that so often wins battles. "At Arco said Napoleon, "I won the battle with twenty-five horsemen. I seized a moment of lassitude, gave every man a trumpet, and gained the day w this handful. Two armies are two bodies which meet and endeavour to frighten each other: a moment of panic occurs, and THAT MOMENT m be turned to advantage." "Every moment lost," said he at another time "gives an opportunity for misfortune;" and he declared that he beat th Austrians because they never knew the value of time: while they dawd he overthrew them. India has, during the last century, been a great field for the display of British energy. From Clive to Havelock and Clyde there is a long and honourable roll of distinguished names in Indian legislation and warfare,--such as Wellesley, Metcalfe, Outram, Edwardes, and the Lawrences. Another great but sullied name is that of Warren Hastings man of dauntless will and indefatigable industry. His family was ancie and illustrious; but their vicissitudes of fortune and ill-requited loyalty the cause of the Stuarts, brought them to poverty, and the family estat Daylesford, of which they had been lords of the manor for hundreds o years, at length passed from their hands. The last Hastings of Daylesf had, however, presented the parish living to his second son; and it wa his house, many years later, that Warren Hastings, his grandson, was The boy learnt his letters at the village school, on the same bench with children of the peasantry. He played in the fields which his fathers had owned; and what the loyal and brave Hastings of Daylesford HAD bee was ever in the boy's thoughts. His young ambition was fired, and it is that one summer's day, when only seven years old, as he laid him dow the bank of the stream which flowed through the domain, he formed in mind the resolution that he would yet recover possession of the family lands. It was the romantic vision of a boy; yet he lived to realize it. Th CHAPTER VIII 186 dream became a passion, rooted in his very life; and he pursued his determination through youth up to manhood, with that calm but indomitable force of will which was the most striking peculiarity of his character. The orphan boy became one of the most powerful men of hi time; he retrieved the fortunes of his line; bought back the old estate, rebuilt the family mansion. "When, under a tropical sun," says Macaul "he ruled fifty millions of Asiatics, his hopes, amidst all the cares of wa finance, and legislation, still pointed to Daylesford. And when his long public life, so singularly chequered with good and evil, with glory and obloquy, had at length closed for ever, it was to Daylesford that he ret to die." Sir Charles Napier was another Indian leader of extraordinary courag determination. He once said of the difficulties with which he was surrounded in one of his campaigns, "They only make my feet go deep into the ground." His battle of Meeanee was one of the most extraordi feats in history. With 2000 men, of whom only 400 were Europeans, he encountered an army of 35,000 hardy and well-armed Beloochees. It w an act, apparently, of the most daring temerity, but the general had fa himself and in his men. He charged the Belooch centre up a high bank which formed their rampart in front, and for three mortal hours the ba raged. Each man of that small force, inspired by the chief, became for time a hero. The Beloochees, though twenty to one, were driven back, with their faces to the foe. It is this sort of pluck, tenacity, and determ perseverance which wins soldiers' battles, and, indeed, every battle. I one neck nearer that wins the race and shows the blood; it is the one more that wins the campaign; the five minutes' more persistent coura wins the fight. Though your force be less than another's, you equal an outmaster your opponent if you continue it longer and concentrate it m The reply of the Spartan father, who said to his son, when complaining his sword was too short, "Add a step to it," is applicable to everything life. Napier took the right method of inspiring his men with his own heroic spirit. He worked as hard as any private in the ranks. "The great art o commanding," he said, "is to take a fair share of the work. The man w CHAPTER VIII 187 leads an army cannot succeed unless his whole mind is thrown into hi work. The more trouble, the more labour must be given; the more dan the more pluck must be shown, till all is overpowered." A young office who accompanied him in his campaign in the Cutchee Hills, once said "When I see that old man incessantly on his horse, how can I be idle w am young and strong? I would go into a loaded cannon's mouth if he ordered me." This remark, when repeated to Napier, he said was amp reward for his toils. The anecdote of his interview with the Indian jugg strikingly illustrates his cool courage as well as his remarkable simpli and honesty of character. On one occasion, after the Indian battles, a famous juggler visited the camp and performed his feats before the Ge his family, and staff. Among other performances, this man cut in two w stroke of his sword a lime or lemon placed in the hand of his assistant Napier thought there was some collusion between the juggler and his retainer. To divide by a sweep of the sword on a man's hand so small a object without touching the flesh he believed to be impossible, though similar incident is related by Scott in his romance of the 'Talisman.' To determine the point, the General offered his own hand for the experim and he stretched out his right arm. The juggler looked attentively at th hand, and said he would not make the trial. "I thought I would find you out!" exclaimed Napier. "But stop," added the other, "let me see your l hand." The left hand was submitted, and the man then said firmly, "If y will hold your arm steady I will perform the feat." "But why the left ha and not the right?" "Because the right hand is hollow in the centre, an there is a risk of cutting off the thumb; the left is high, and the danger be less." Napier was startled. "I got frightened," he said; "I saw it was actual feat of delicate swordsmanship, and if I had not abused the man did before my staff, and challenged him to the trial, I honestly acknow I would have retired from the encounter. However, I put the lime on m hand, and held out my arm steadily. The juggler balanced himself, and with a swift stroke cut the lime in two pieces. I felt the edge of the sw on my hand as if a cold thread had been drawn across it. So much (he added) for the brave swordsmen of India, whom our fine fellows defea at Meeanee." CHAPTER VIII 188 The recent terrible struggle in India has served to bring out, perhaps prominently than any previous event in our history, the determined en and self-reliance of the national character. Although English officialism may often drift stupidly into gigantic blunders, the men of the nation generally contrive to work their way out of them with a heroism almos approaching the sublime. In May, 1857, when the revolt burst upon In like a thunder-clap, the British forces had been allowed to dwindle to extreme minimum, and were scattered over a wide extent of country, m of them in remote cantonments. The Bengal regiments, one after anot rose against their officers, broke away, and rushed to Delhi. Province province was lapped in mutiny and rebellion; and the cry for help rose east to west. Everywhere the English stood at bay in small detachmen beleaguered and surrounded, apparently incapable of resistance. Thei discomfiture seemed so complete, and the utter ruin of the British cau India so certain, that it might be said of them then, as it had been said before, "These English never know when they are beaten." According rule, they ought then and there to have succumbed to inevitable fate. While the issue of the mutiny still appeared uncertain, Holkar, one of t native princes, consulted his astrologer for information. The reply was all the Europeans save one are slain, that one will remain to fight and reconquer." In their very darkest moment- -even where, as at Lucknow mere handful of British soldiers, civilians, and women, held out amids city and province in arms against them--there was no word of despair, thought of surrender. Though cut off from all communication with the friends for months, and not knowing whether India was lost or held, th never ceased to have perfect faith in the courage and devotedness of t countrymen. They knew that while a body of men of English race held together in India, they would not be left unheeded to perish. They nev dreamt of any other issue but retrieval of their misfortune and ultimat triumph; and if the worst came to the worst, they could but fall at thei and die in the performance of their duty. Need we remind the reader o names of Havelock, Inglis, Neill, and Outram--men of truly heroic mould--of each of whom it might with truth be said that he had the he a chevalier, the soul of a believer, and the temperament of a martyr. Montalembert has said of them that "they do honour to the human rac CHAPTER VIII 189 But throughout that terrible trial almost all proved equally great--wom civilians and soldiers--from the general down through all grades to the private and bugleman. The men were not picked: they belonged to the ordinary people whom we daily meet at home--in the streets, in works in the fields, at clubs; yet when sudden disaster fell upon them, each a displayed a wealth of personal resources and energy, and became as i individually heroic. "Not one of them," says Montalembert, "shrank or trembled--all, military and civilians, young and old, generals and soldi resisted, fought, and perished with a coolness and intrepidity which n faltered. It is in this circumstance that shines out the immense value o public education, which invites the Englishman from his youth to mak of his strength and his liberty, to associate, resist, fear nothing, to be astonished at nothing, and to save himself, by his own sole exertions, every sore strait in life." It has been said that Delhi was taken and India saved by the personal character of Sir John Lawrence. The very name of "Lawrence" represe power in the North-West Provinces. His standard of duty, zeal, and personal effort, was of the highest; and every man who served under h seemed to be inspired by his spirit. It was declared of him that his cha alone was worth an army. The same might be said of his brother Sir H who organised the Punjaub force that took so prominent a part in the capture of Delhi. Both brothers inspired those who were about them w perfect love and confidence. Both possessed that quality of tenderness which is one of the true elements of the heroic character. Both lived amongst the people, and powerfully influenced them for good. Above a Col. Edwardes says, "they drew models on young fellows' minds, whic they went forth and copied in their several administrations: they sketc FAITH, and begot a SCHOOL, which are both living things at this day. Sir John Lawrence had by his side such men as Montgomery, Nicholso Cotton, and Edwardes, as prompt, decisive, and high-souled as himsel John Nicholson was one of the finest, manliest, and noblest of men--"e inch a hakim," the natives said of him--"a tower of strength," as he wa characterised by Lord Dalhousie. In whatever capacity he acted he wa great, because he acted with his whole strength and soul. A brotherho fakeers--borne away by their enthusiastic admiration of the man--even CHAPTER VIII 190 began the worship of Nikkil Seyn: he had some of them punished for t folly, but they continued their worship nevertheless. Of his sustained energy and persistency an illustration may be cited in his pursuit of th Sepoy mutineers, when he was in the saddle for twenty consecutive ho and travelled more than seventy miles. When the enemy set up their standard at Delhi, Lawrence and Montgomery, relying on the support people of the Punjaub, and compelling their admiration and confidenc strained every nerve to keep their own province in perfect order, whil hurled every available soldier, European and Sikh, against that city. Si John wrote to the commander-in-chief to "hang on to the rebels' noses before Delhi," while the troops pressed on by forced marches under Nicholson, "the tramp of whose war-horse might be heard miles off," a was afterwards said of him by a rough Sikh who wept over his grave. The siege and storming of Delhi was the most illustrious event which occurred in the course of that gigantic struggle, although the leaguer Lucknow, during which the merest skeleton of a British regiment--the 32nd--held out, under the heroic Inglis, for six months against two hun thousand armed enemies, has perhaps excited more intense interest. Delhi, too, the British were really the besieged, though ostensibly the besiegers; they were a mere handful of men "in the open"--not more th 3,700 bayonets, European and native--and they were assailed from da day by an army of rebels numbering at one time as many as 75,000 m trained to European discipline by English officers, and supplied with a exhaustless munitions of war. The heroic little band sat down before t city under the burning rays of a tropical sun. Death, wounds, and feve failed to turn them from their purpose. Thirty times they were attacke overwhelming numbers, and thirty times did they drive back the enem behind their defences. As Captain Hodson--himself one of the bravest there--has said, "I venture to aver that no other nation in the world wo have remained here, or avoided defeat if they had attempted to do so. Never for an instant did these heroes falter at their work; with sublim endurance they held on, fought on, and never relaxed until, dashing th the "imminent deadly breach," the place was won, and the British flag again unfurled on the walls of Delhi. All were great--privates, officers, generals. Common soldiers who had been inured to a life of hardship, CHAPTER VIII 191 young officers who had been nursed in luxurious homes, alike proved manhood, and emerged from that terrible trial with equal honour. The native strength and soundness of the English race, and of manly Engli training and discipline, were never more powerfully exhibited; and it w there emphatically proved that the Men of England are, after all, its g products. A terrible price was paid for this great chapter in our histor if those who survive, and those who come after, profit by the lesson an example, it may not have been purchased at too great a cost. But not less energy and courage have been displayed in India and the by men of various nations, in other lines of action more peaceful and beneficent than that of war. And while the heroes of the sword are remembered, the heroes of the gospel ought not to be forgotten. From Xavier to Martyn and Williams, there has been a succession of illustrio missionary labourers, working in a spirit of sublime self-sacrifice, with any thought of worldly honour, inspired solely by the hope of seeking and rescuing the lost and fallen of their race. Borne up by invincible courage and never-failing patience, these men have endured privation braved dangers, walked through pestilence, and borne all toils, fatigu sufferings, yet held on their way rejoicing, glorying even in martyrdom itself. Of these one of the first and most illustrious was Francis Xavier. Born of noble lineage, and with pleasure, power, and honour within hi reach, he proved by his life that there are higher objects in the world rank, and nobler aspirations than the accumulation of wealth. He was gentleman in manners and sentiment; brave, honourable, generous; e led, yet capable of leading; easily persuaded, yet himself persuasive; a patient, resolute and energetic man. At the age of twenty-two he was earning his living as a public teacher of philosophy at the University o Paris. There Xavier became the intimate friend and associate of Loyola shortly afterwards he conducted the pilgrimage of the first little band proselytes to Rome. When John III. of Portugal resolved to plant Christianity in the Indian territories subject to his influence, Bobadilla was first selected as his missionary; but being disabled by illness, it was found necessary to m another selection, and Xavier was chosen. Repairing his tattered casso CHAPTER VIII 192 and with no other baggage than his breviary, he at once started for Lis and embarked for the East. The ship in which he set sail for Goa had t Governor on board, with a reinforcement of a thousand men for the garrison of the place. Though a cabin was placed at his disposal, Xavie slept on deck throughout the voyage with his head on a coil of ropes, messing with the sailors. By ministering to their wants, inventing inno sports for their amusement, and attending them in their sickness, he w won their hearts, and they regarded him with veneration. Arrived at Goa, Xavier was shocked at the depravity of the people, set as well as natives; for the former had imported the vices without the restraints of civilization, and the latter had only been too apt to imitat bad example. Passing along the streets of the city, sounding his handb he went, he implored the people to send him their children to be instr He shortly succeeded in collecting a large number of scholars, whom carefully taught day by day, at the same time visiting the sick, the lepe and the wretched of all classes, with the object of assuaging their mis and bringing them to the Truth. No cry of human suffering which reac him was disregarded. Hearing of the degradation and misery of the pe fishers of Manaar, he set out to visit them, and his bell again rang out invitation of mercy. He baptized and he taught, but the latter he could do through interpreters. His most eloquent teaching was his ministrat the wants and the sufferings of the wretched. On he went, his hand-bell sounding along the coast of Comorin, amon towns and villages, the temples and the bazaars, summoning the nativ gather about him and be instructed. He had translations made of the Catechism, the Apostles' Creed, the Commandments, the Lord's Praye some of the devotional offices of the Church. Committing these to mem in their own tongue he recited them to the children, until they had the heart; after which he sent them forth to teach the words to their paren neighbours. At Cape Comorin, he appointed thirty teachers, who unde himself presided over thirty Christian Churches, though the Churches but humble, in most cases consisting only of a cottage surmounted by cross. Thence he passed to Travancore, sounding his way from village village, baptizing until his hands dropped with weariness, and repeati CHAPTER VIII 193 formulas until his voice became almost inaudible. According to his ow account, the success of his mission surpassed his highest expectations pure, earnest, and beautiful life, and the irresistible eloquence of his d made converts wherever he went; and by sheer force of sympathy, tho who saw him and listened to him insensibly caught a portion of his ard Burdened with the thought that "the harvest is great and the labourer few," Xavier next sailed to Malacca and Japan, where he found himself amongst entirely new races speaking other tongues. The most that he do here was to weep and pray, to smooth the pillow and watch by the sick-bed, sometimes soaking the sleeve of his surplice in water, from w to squeeze out a few drops and baptize the dying. Hoping all things, a fearing nothing, this valiant soldier of the truth was borne onward throughout by faith and energy. "Whatever form of death or torture," s he, "awaits me, I am ready to suffer it ten thousand times for the salva of a single soul." He battled with hunger, thirst, privations and danger all kinds, still pursuing his mission of love, unresting and unwearying. length, after eleven years' labour, this great good man, while striving a way into China, was stricken with fever in the Island of Sanchian, an there received his crown of glory. A hero of nobler mould, more pure, self-denying, and courageous, has probably never trod this earth. Other missionaries have followed Xavier in the same field of work, suc Schwartz, Carey, and Marshman in India; Gutzlaff and Morrison in Ch Williams in the South Seas; Campbell, Moffatt and Livingstone in Afric John Williams, the martyr of Erromanga, was originally apprenticed to furnishing ironmonger. Though considered a dull boy, he was handy at trade, in which he acquired so much skill that his master usually entru him with any blacksmiths work that required the exercise of more tha ordinary care. He was also fond of bell-hanging and other employmen which took him away from the shop. A casual sermon which he heard his mind a serious bias, and he became a Sunday-school teacher. The of missions having been brought under his notice at some of his societ meetings, he determined to devote himself to this work. His services w accepted by the London Missionary Society; and his master allowed h leave the ironmonger's shop before the expiry of his indentures. The i CHAPTER VIII 194 of the Pacific Ocean were the principal scene of his labours--more particularly Huahine in Tahiti, Raiatea, and Rarotonga. Like the Apost he worked with his hands,--at blacksmith work, gardening, shipbuildin and he endeavoured to teach the islanders the art of civilised life, at t same time that he instructed them in the truths of religion. It was in t course of his indefatigable labours that he was massacred by savages shore of Erromanga- -none worthier than he to wear the martyr's crow The career of Dr. Livingstone is one of the most interesting of all. He h told the story of his life in that modest and unassuming manner which characteristic of the man himself. His ancestors were poor but honest Highlanders, and it is related of one of them, renowned in his district wisdom and prudence, that when on his death-bed he called his childr round him and left them these words, the only legacy he had to bequeath--"In my life-time," said he, "I have searched most carefully through all the traditions I could find of our family, and I never could discover that there was a dishonest man among our forefathers: if, therefore, any of you or any of your children should take to dishonest it will not be because it runs in our blood; it does not belong to you: I this precept with you--Be honest." At the age of ten Livingstone was se work in a cotton factory near Glasgow as a "piecer." With part of his fi week's wages he bought a Latin grammar, and began to learn that lan pursuing the study for years at a night school. He would sit up connin lessons till twelve or later, when not sent to bed by his mother, for he be up and at work in the factory every morning by six. In this way he plodded through Virgil and Horace, also reading extensively all books excepting novels, that came in his way, but more especially scientific w and books of travels. He occupied his spare hours, which were but few the pursuit of botany, scouring the neighbourhood to collect plants. H carried on his reading amidst the roar of the factory machinery, so pla the book upon the spinning jenny which he worked that he could catch sentence after sentence as he passed it. In this way the persevering yo acquired much useful knowledge; and as he grew older, the desire possessed him of becoming a missionary to the heathen. With this obj set himself to obtain a medical education, in order the better to be qu for the work. He accordingly economised his earnings, and saved as m CHAPTER VIII 195 money as enabled him to support himself while attending the Medical Greek classes, as well as the Divinity Lectures, at Glasgow, for severa winters, working as a cotton spinner during the remainder of each yea thus supported himself, during his college career, entirely by his own earnings as a factory workman, never having received a farthing of he from any other source. "Looking back now," he honestly says, "at that of toil, I cannot but feel thankful that it formed such a material part of early education; and, were it possible, I should like to begin life over a in the same lowly style, and to pass through the same hardy training." length he finished his medical curriculum, wrote his Latin thesis, pass examinations, and was admitted a licentiate of the Faculty of Physicia and Surgeons. At first he thought of going to China, but the war then waging with that country prevented his following out the idea; and ha offered his services to the London Missionary Society, he was by them out to Africa, which he reached in 1840. He had intended to proceed t 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 "i not quite agreeable to one accustomed to work his own way to becom manner, dependent upon others." Arrived in Africa he set to work with great zeal. He could not brook the idea of merely entering upon the la of others, but cut out a large sphere of independent work, preparing h for it by undertaking manual labour in building and other handicraft employment, in addition to teaching, which, he says, "made me genera much exhausted and unfit for study in the evenings as ever I had been a cotton-spinner." Whilst labouring amongst the Bechuanas, he dug ca built houses, cultivated fields, reared cattle, and taught the natives to as well as worship. When he first started with a party of them on foot a long journey, he overheard their observations upon his appearance a powers--"He is not strong," said they; "he is quite slim, and only appea stout because he puts himself into those bags (trowsers): he will soon up." This caused the missionary's Highland blood to rise, and made hi despise the fatigue of keeping them all at the top of their speed for da together, until he heard them expressing proper opinions of his pedes powers. What he did in Africa, and how he worked, may be learnt from own 'Missionary Travels,' one of the most fascinating books of its kind has ever been given to the public. One of his last known acts is thorou CHAPTER VIII 196 characteristic of the man. The 'Birkenhead' steam launch, which he to with him to Africa, having proved a failure, he sent home orders for th construction of another vessel at an estimated cost of 2000l. This sum proposed to defray out of the means which he had set aside for his chi arising from the profits of his books of travels. "The children must ma up themselves," was in effect his expression in sending home the orde the appropriation of the money. The career of John Howard was throughout a striking illustration of th same power of patient purpose. His sublime life proved that even phys weakness could remove mountains in the pursuit of an end recommen by duty. The idea of ameliorating the condition of prisoners engrossed whole thoughts and possessed him like a passion; and no toil, nor dan nor bodily suffering could turn him from that great object of his life. Though a man of no genius and but moderate talent, his heart was pu his will was strong. Even in his own time he achieved a remarkable de of success; and his influence did not die with him, for it has continued powerfully to affect not only the legislation of England, but of all civili nations, down to the present hour. Jonas Hanway was another of the many patient and persevering men wh have made England what it is--content simply to do with energy the work they have been appointed to do, and go to their rest thankfully when it is done "Leaving no memorial but a world Made better by their lives." He was born in 1712, at Portsmouth, where his father, a storekeeper i dockyard, being killed by an accident, he was left an orphan at an ear His mother removed with her children to London, where she had them to school, and struggled hard to bring them up respectably. At sevente Jonas was sent to Lisbon to be apprenticed to a merchant, where his c attention to business, his punctuality, and his strict honour and integr gained for him the respect and esteem of all who knew him. Returning London in 1743, he accepted the offer of a partnership in an English mercantile house at St. Petersburg engaged in the Caspian trade, then CHAPTER VIII 197 infancy. Hanway went to Russia for the purpose of extending the busin and shortly after his arrival at the capital he set out for Persia, with a caravan of English bales of cloth making twenty carriage loads. At Astracan he sailed for Astrabad, on the south-eastern shore of the Cas but he had scarcely landed his bales, when an insurrection broke out, goods were seized, and though he afterwards recovered the principal them, the fruits of his enterprise were in a great measure lost. A plot w on foot to seize himself and his party; so he took to sea and, after encountering great perils, reached Ghilan in safety. His escape on this occasion gave him the first idea of the words which he afterwards ado as the motto of his life--"NEVER DESPAIR." He afterwards resided in S Petersburg for five years, carrying on a prosperous business. But a rel having left him some property, and his own means being considerable left Russia, and arrived in his native country in 1755. His object in returning to England was, as he himself expressed it, "to consult his o health (which was extremely delicate), and do as much good to himsel 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 order that he might employ a larger share of his income in works of benevolence. One of the first public improvements to which he devote himself was that of the highways of the metropolis, in which he succee to a large extent. The rumour of a French invasion being prevalent in Mr. Hanway turned his attention to the best mode of keeping up the s of seamen. He summoned a meeting of merchants and shipowners at Royal Exchange, and there proposed to them to form themselves into society for fitting out landsmen volunteers and boys, to serve on board king's ships. The proposal was received with enthusiasm: a society wa formed, and officers were appointed, Mr. Hanway directing its entire operations. The result was the establishment in 1756 of The Marine Society, an institution which has proved of much national advantage, a to this day of great and substantial utility. Within six years from its formation, 5451 boys and 4787 landsmen volunteers had been trained fitted out by the society and added to the navy, and to this day it is in a operation, about 600 poor boys, after a careful education, being annua apprenticed as sailors, principally in the merchant service. CHAPTER VIII 198 Mr. Hanway devoted the other portions of his spare time to improving establishing important public institutions in the metropolis. From an e period he took an active interest in the Foundling Hospital, which had started by Thomas Coram many years before, but which, by encourag parents to abandon their children to the charge of a charity, was threa to do more harm than good. He determined to take steps to stem the e entering upon the work in the face of the fashionable philanthropy of time; but by holding to his purpose he eventually succeeded in bringin charity back to its proper objects; and time and experience have prove he was right. The Magdalen Hospital was also established in a great measure through Mr. Hanway's exertions. But his most laborious and persevering efforts were in behalf of the infant parish poor. The miser neglect amidst which the children of the parish poor then grew up, an mortality which prevailed amongst them, were frightful; but there was fashionable movement on foot to abate the suffering, as in the case of foundlings. So Jonas Hanway summoned his energies to the task. Alon and unassisted he first ascertained by personal inquiry the extent of th He explored the dwellings of the poorest classes in London, and visite poorhouse sick wards, by which he ascertained the management in de every workhouse in and near the metropolis. He next made a journey France and through Holland, visiting the houses for the reception of t poor, and noting whatever he thought might be adopted at home with advantage. He was thus employed for five years; and on his return to England he published the results of his observations. The consequenc that many of the workhouses were reformed and improved. In 1761 he obtained an Act obliging every London parish to keep an annual regis all the infants received, discharged, and dead; and he took care that t should work, for he himself superintended its working with indefatiga watchfulness. He went about from workhouse to workhouse in the morning, and from one member of parliament to another in the aftern for day after day, and for year after year, enduring every rebuff, answe every objection, and accommodating himself to every humour. At leng after a perseverance hardly to be equalled, and after nearly ten years' labour, he obtained another Act, at his sole expense (7 Geo. III. c. 39), directing that all parish infants belonging to the parishes within the b mortality should not be nursed in the workhouses, but be sent to nurs CHAPTER VIII 199 certain number of miles out of town, until they were six years old, und the care of guardians to be elected triennially. The poor people called "the Act for keeping children alive;" and the registers for the years wh followed its passing, as compared with those which preceded it, show that thousands of lives had been preserved through the judicious interference of this good and sensible man. Wherever a philanthropic work was to be done in London, be sure tha Jonas Hanway's hand was in it. One of the first Acts for the protection chimney-sweepers' boys was obtained through his influence. A destru fire at Montreal, and another at Bridgetown, Barbadoes, afforded him opportunity for raising a timely subscription for the relief of the suffer His name appeared in every list, and his disinterestedness and sinceri were universally recognized. But he was not suffered to waste his littl fortune entirely in the service of others. Five leading citizens of Londo headed by Mr. Hoare, the banker, without Mr. Hanway's knowledge, w on Lord Bute, then prime minister, in a body, and in the names of their fellow-citizens requested that some notice might be taken of this good man's disinterested services to his country. The result was, his appoin shortly after, as one of the commissioners for victualling the navy. Towards the close of his life Mr. Hanway's health became very feeble, although he found it necessary to resign his office at the Victualling B he could not be idle; but laboured at the establishment of Sunday Schools,--a movement then in its infancy,-- or in relieving poor blacks, many of whom wandered destitute about the streets of the metropolis in alleviating the sufferings of some neglected and destitute class of society. Notwithstanding his familiarity with misery in all its shapes, h was one of the most cheerful of beings; and, but for his cheerfulness h could never, with so delicate a frame, have got through so vast an amo of self-imposed work. He dreaded nothing so much as inactivity. Thoug fragile, he was bold and indefatigable; and his moral courage was of t first order. It may be regarded as a trivial matter to mention that he w first who ventured to walk the streets of London with an umbrella ove head. But let any modern London merchant venture to walk along Cor in a peaked Chinese hat, and he will find it takes some degree of mora CHAPTER VIII 200 courage to persevere in it. After carrying an umbrella for thirty years, Hanway saw the article at length come into general use. Hanway was a man of strict honour, truthfulness, and integrity; and ev word he said might be relied upon. He had so great a respect, amount almost to a reverence, for the character of the honest merchant, that the only subject upon which he was ever seduced into a eulogium. He strictly practised what he professed, and both as a merchant, and afte as a commissioner for victualling the navy, his conduct was without st He would not accept the slightest favour of any sort from a contractor when any present was sent to him whilst at the Victualling Office, he w 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 he fo his powers failing, he prepared for death with as much cheerfulness a would have prepared himself for a journey into the country. He sent ro and paid all his tradesmen, took leave of his friends, arranged his affa had his person neatly disposed of, and parted with life serenely and peacefully in his 74th year. The property which he left did not amount two thousand pounds, and, as he had no relatives who wanted it, he d it amongst sundry orphans and poor persons whom he had befriended during his lifetime. Such, in brief, was the beautiful life of Jonas Hanway,--as honest, energetic, hard- working, and true-hearted a man ever lived. The life of Granville Sharp is another striking example of the same po of individual energy--a power which was afterwards transfused into th noble band of workers in the cause of Slavery Abolition, prominent am whom were Clarkson, Wilberforce, Buxton, and Brougham. But, giants though these men were in this cause, Granville Sharp was the first, an perhaps the greatest of them all, in point of perseverance, energy, and intrepidity. He began life as apprentice to a linen-draper on Tower Hil leaving that business after his apprenticeship was out, he next entere clerk in the Ordnance Office; and it was while engaged in that humble occupation that he carried on in his spare hours the work of Negro Emancipation. He was always, even when an apprentice, ready to und any amount of volunteer labour where a useful purpose was to be serv CHAPTER VIII 201 Thus, while learning the linen-drapery business, a fellow apprentice w lodged in the same house, and was a Unitarian, led him into frequent discussions on religious subjects. The Unitarian youth insisted that Granville's Trinitarian misconception of certain passages of Scripture 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 knowledge of Greek. A similar controversy with another fello apprentice, a Jew, as to the interpretation of the prophecies, led him in manner to undertake and overcome the difficulties of Hebrew. But the circumstance which gave the bias and direction to the main la of his life originated in his generosity and benevolence. His brother William, a surgeon in Mincing Lane, gave gratuitous advice to the poo and amongst the numerous applicants for relief at his surgery was a p African named Jonathan Strong. It appeared that the negro had been brutally treated by his master, a Barbadoes lawyer then in London, an became lame, almost blind, and unable to work; on which his owner, regarding him as of no further value as a chattel, cruelly turned him a into the streets to starve. This poor man, a mass of disease, supported himself by begging for a time, until he found his way to William Sharp who gave him some medicine, and shortly after got him admitted to S Bartholomew's hospital, where he was cured. On coming out of the hospital, the two brothers supported the negro in order to keep him o streets, but they had not the least suspicion at the time that any one h claim upon his person. They even succeeded in obtaining a situation fo Strong with an apothecary, in whose service he remained for two year it was while he was attending his mistress behind a hackney coach, th former owner, the Barbadoes lawyer, recognized him, and determined recover possession of the slave, again rendered valuable by the restor 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 b shipped off to the West Indies. The negro, bethinking him in his captiv of the kind services which Granville Sharp had rendered him in his gr distress some years before, despatched a letter to him requesting his Sharp had forgotten the name of Strong, but he sent a messenger to m inquiries, who returned saying that the keepers denied having any suc CHAPTER VIII 202 person in their charge. His suspicions were roused, and he went forth to the prison, and insisted upon seeing Jonathan Strong. He was admi and recognized the poor negro, now in custody as a recaptured slave. Sharp charged the master of the prison at his own peril not to deliver Strong to any person whatever, until he had been carried before the L Mayor, to whom Sharp immediately went, and obtained a summons ag those persons who had seized and imprisoned Strong without a warra The parties appeared before the Lord Mayor accordingly, and it appea from the proceedings that Strong's former master had already sold hi new one, who produced the bill of sale and claimed the negro as his property. As no charge of offence was made against Strong, and as the Mayor was incompetent to deal with the legal question of Strong's libe or otherwise, he discharged him, and the slave followed his benefacto of court, no one daring to touch him. The man's owner immediately ga Sharp notice of an action to recover possession of his negro slave, of w he declared he had been robbed. About that 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 constantly practised, and, besides the press-gangs, there were regular of kidnappers employed in London and all the large towns of the kingd to seize men for the East India Company's service. And when the men not wanted for India, they were shipped off to the planters in the Ame colonies. Negro slaves were openly advertised for sale in the London a Liverpool newspapers. Rewards were offered for recovering and secur fugitive slaves, and conveying them down to certain specified ships in river. The position of the reputed slave in England was undefined and doubt The judgments which had been given in the courts of law were fluctua and various, resting on no settled principle. Although it was a popular belief that no slave could breathe in England, there were legal men of eminence who expressed a directly contrary opinion. The lawyers to w Mr. Sharp resorted for advice, in defending himself in the action raise against him in the case of Jonathan Strong, generally concurred in thi CHAPTER VIII 203 view, and he was further told by Jonathan Strong's owner, that the em Lord Chief Justice Mansfield, and all the leading counsel, were decide of opinion that the slave, by coming into England, did not become free might legally be compelled to return again to the plantations. Such information would have caused despair in a mind less courageous and earnest than that of Granville Sharp; but it only served to stimulate hi resolution to fight the battle of the negroes' freedom, at least in Engla "Forsaken," he said, "by my professional defenders, I was compelled, through the want of regular legal assistance, to make a hopeless attem self- defence, though I was totally unacquainted either with the practi the law or the foundations of it, having never opened a law book (exce the Bible) in my life, until that time, when I most reluctantly undertoo 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 o ordnance department, where he held the most laborious post in the off he was therefore under the necessity of conducting his new studies la night or early in the morning. He confessed that he was himself becom sort of slave. Writing to a clerical friend to excuse himself for delay in replying to a letter, he said, "I profess myself entirely incapable of hol a literary correspondence. What little time I have been able to save fr sleep at night, and early in the morning, has been necessarily employe the examination of some points of law, which admitted of no delay, and required the most diligent researches and examination in my study." Mr. Sharp gave up every leisure moment that he could command durin next two years, to the close study of the laws of England affecting per liberty,--wading through an immense mass of dry and repulsive literat and making extracts of all the most important Acts of Parliament, deci of the courts, and opinions of eminent lawyers, as he went along. In th tedious and protracted inquiry he had no instructor, nor assistant, nor adviser. He could not find a single lawyer whose opinion was favourab his undertaking. The results of his inquiries were, however, as gratifyi 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 CHAPTER VIII 204 that I am able to find out--that can justify the enslaving of others." He planted his foot firm, and now he doubted nothing. He drew up the re his studies in a summary form; it was a plain, clear, and manly statem entitled, 'On the Injustice of Tolerating Slavery in England;' and nume copies, made by himself, were circulated by him amongst the most em lawyers of the time. Strong's owner, finding the sort of man he had to with, invented various pretexts for deferring the suit against Sharp, an length offered a compromise, which was rejected. Granville went on circulating his manuscript tract among the lawyers, until at length tho employed against Jonathan Strong were deterred from proceeding fur and the result was, that the plaintiff was compelled to pay treble costs not bringing forward his action. The tract was then printed in 1769. In the mean time other cases occurred of the kidnapping of negroes in London, and their shipment to the West Indies for sale. Wherever Sha could lay hold of any such case, he at once took proceedings to rescue negro. Thus the wife of one Hylas, an African, was seized, and despatc to Barbadoes; on which Sharp, in the name of Hylas, instituted legal proceedings against the aggressor, obtained a verdict with damages, a Hylas's wife was brought back to England free. Another forcible capture of a negro, attended with great cruelty, havin occurred in 1770, he immediately set himself on the track of the aggre An African, named Lewis, was seized one dark night by two watermen employed by the person who claimed the negro as his property, dragg into the water, hoisted into a boat, where he was gagged, and his limb were tied; and then rowing down river, they put him on board a ship b for Jamaica, where he was to be sold for a slave upon his arrival in the island. The cries of the poor negro had, however, attracted the attenti some neighbours; one of whom proceeded direct to Mr. Granville Shar now known as the negro's friend, and informed him of the outrage. Sh immediately got a warrant to bring back Lewis, and he proceeded to Gravesend, but on arrival there the ship had sailed for the Downs. A w Habeas Corpus was obtained, sent down to Spithead, and before the s could leave the shores of England the writ was served. The slave was chained to the main-mast bathed in tears, casting mournful looks on t CHAPTER VIII 205 land from which he was about to be torn. He was immediately liberate brought back to London, and a warrant was issued against the author outrage. The promptitude of head, heart, and hand, displayed by Mr. S in this transaction could scarcely have been surpassed, and yet he acc himself of slowness. The case was tried before Lord Mansfield--whose opinion, it will be remembered, had already been expressed as decide opposed to that entertained by Granville Sharp. The judge, however, avoided bringing the question to an issue, or offering any opinion on t legal question as to the slave's personal liberty or otherwise, but disch the negro because the defendant could bring no evidence that Lewis w even nominally his property. The question of the personal liberty of the negro in England was there still undecided; but in the mean time Mr. Sharp continued steady in hi benevolent course, and by his indefatigable exertions and promptitude action, many more were added to the list of the rescued. At length the important case of James Somerset occurred; a case which is said to ha been selected, at the mutual desire of Lord Mansfield and Mr. Sharp, order to bring the great question involved to a clear legal issue. Some had been brought to England by his master, and left there. Afterwards master sought to apprehend him and send him off to Jamaica, for sale Sharp, as usual, at once took the negro's case in hand, and employed counsel to defend him. Lord Mansfield intimated that the case was of general concern, that he should take the opinion of all the judges upon Mr. Sharp now felt that he would have to contend with all the force th could be brought against him, but his resolution was in no wise shake Fortunately for him, in this severe struggle, his exertions had already to tell: increasing interest was taken in the question, and many emine legal gentlemen openly declared themselves to be upon his side. The cause of personal liberty, now at stake, was fairly tried before Lor Mansfield, assisted by the three justices,--and tried on the broad princ of the essential and constitutional right of every man in England to th liberty of his person, unless forfeited by the law. It is unnecessary her enter into any account of this great trial; the arguments extended to a length, the cause being carried over to another term,--when it was CHAPTER VIII 206 adjourned and re-adjourned,--but at length judgment was given by Lor Mansfield, in whose powerful mind so gradual a change had been wor by the arguments of counsel, based mainly on Granville Sharp's tract, he now declared the court to be so clearly of one opinion, that there w necessity for referring the case to the twelve judges. He then declared the claim of slavery never can be supported; that the power claimed n was in use in England, nor acknowledged by the law; therefore the ma James Somerset must be discharged. By securing this judgment Granv Sharp effectually abolished the Slave Trade until then carried on open 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 grou that moment he becomes free; and there can be no doubt that this gre decision of Lord Mansfield was mainly owing to Mr. Sharp's firm, reso and intrepid prosecution of the cause from the beginning to the end. It is unnecessary further to follow the career of Granville Sharp. He continued to labour indefatigably in all good works. He was instrumen founding the colony of Sierra Leone as an asylum for rescued negroes laboured to ameliorate the condition of the native Indians in the Amer colonies. He agitated the enlargement and extension of the political ri of the English people; and he endeavoured to effect the abolition of th impressment of seamen. Granville held that the British seamen, as we the African negro, was entitled to the protection of the law; and that t of his choosing a seafaring life did not in any way cancel his rights and privileges as an Englishman--first amongst which he ranked personal freedom. Mr. Sharp also laboured, but ineffectually, to restore amity between England and her colonies in America; and when the fratricida of the American Revolution was entered on, his sense of integrity was scrupulous that, resolving not in any way to be concerned in so unnatu business, he resigned his situation at the Ordnance Office. To the last he held to the great object of his life--the abolition of slaver To carry on this work, and organize the efforts of the growing friends cause, the Society for the Abolition of Slavery was founded, and new m inspired by Sharp's example and zeal, sprang forward to help him. His energy became theirs, and the self-sacrificing zeal in which he had so CHAPTER VIII 207 laboured single- handed, became at length transfused into the nation His mantle fell upon Clarkson, upon Wilberforce, upon Brougham, and upon Buxton, who laboured as he had done, with like energy and stedfastness of purpose, until at length slavery was abolished through the British dominions. But though the names last mentioned may be m frequently identified with the triumph of this great cause, the chief me unquestionably belongs to Granville Sharp. He was encouraged by no the world's huzzas when he entered upon his work. He stood alone, opposed to the opinion of the ablest lawyers and the most rooted preju of the times; and alone he fought out, by his single exertions, and at h individual expense, the most memorable battle for the constitution of country and the liberties of British subjects, of which modern times aff record. What followed was mainly the consequence of his indefatigabl constancy. He lighted the torch which kindled other minds, and it was handed on until the illumination became complete. Before the death of Granville Sharp, Clarkson had already turned his attention to the question of Negro Slavery. He had even selected it for subject of a college Essay; and his mind became so possessed by it tha could not shake it off. The spot is pointed out near Wade's Mill, in Hertfordshire, where, alighting from his horse one day, he sat down disconsolate on the turf by the road side, and after long thinking, determined to devote himself wholly to the work. He translated his Es from Latin into English, added fresh illustrations, and published it. Th fellow labourers gathered round him. The Society for Abolishing the S Trade, unknown to him, had already been formed, and when he heard he joined it. He sacrificed all his prospects in life to prosecute this cau Wilberforce was selected to lead in parliament; but upon Clarkson chi devolved the labour of collecting and arranging the immense mass of evidence offered in support of the abolition. A remarkable instance of Clarkson's sleuth-hound sort of perseverance may be mentioned. The abettors of slavery, in the course of their defence of the system, maint that only such negroes as were captured in battle were sold as slaves, not so sold, then they were reserved for a still more frightful doom in own country. Clarkson knew of the slave-hunts conducted by the slave-traders, but had no witnesses to prove it. Where was one to be f CHAPTER VIII 208 Accidentally, a gentleman whom he met on one of his journeys informe him of a young sailor, in whose company he had been about a year bef who had been actually engaged in one of such slave-hunting expeditio The gentleman did not know his name, and could but indefinitely desc his person. He did not know where he was, further than that he belon a ship of war in ordinary, but at what port he could not tell. With this m glimmering of information, Clarkson determined to produce this man witness. He visited personally all the seaport towns where ships in ord lay; boarded and examined every ship without success, until he came very LAST port, and found the young man, his prize, in the very LAST ship that remained to be visited. The young man proved to be one of h most valuable and effective witnesses. During several years Clarkson conducted a correspondence with upwa of four hundred persons, travelling more than thirty-five thousand mil during the same time in search of evidence. He was at length disabled exhausted by illness, brought on by his continuous exertions; but he w not borne from the field until his zeal had fully awakened the public m and excited the ardent sympathies of all good men on behalf of the sla After years of protracted struggle, the slave trade was abolished. But another great achievement remained to be accomplished-- the abolitio slavery itself throughout the British dominions. And here again determ energy won the day. Of the leaders in the cause, none was more distinguished than Fowell Buxton, who took the position formerly occu by Wilberforce in the House of Commons. Buxton was a dull, heavy bo distinguished for his strong self-will, which first exhibited itself in viol domineering, and headstrong obstinacy. His father died when he was child; but fortunately he had a wise mother, who trained his will with g care, constraining him to obey, but encouraging the habit of deciding acting for himself in matters which might safely be left to him. His mo believed that a strong will, directed upon worthy objects, was a valuab manly quality if properly guided, and she acted accordingly. When oth about her commented on the boy's self-will, she would merely say, "Ne mind--he is self-willed now--you will see it will turn out well in the end Fowell learnt very little at school, and was regarded as a dunce and an CHAPTER VIII 209 He got other boys to do his exercises for him, while he romped and scrambled about. He returned home at fifteen, a great, growing, awkw lad, fond only of boating, shooting, riding, and field sports,--spending time principally with the gamekeeper, a man possessed of a good hear intelligent observer of life and nature, though he could neither read n write. Buxton had excellent raw material in him, but he wanted cultur training, and development. At this juncture of his life, when his habits being formed for good or evil, he was happily thrown into the society Gurney family, distinguished for their fine social qualities not less than their intellectual culture and public-spirited philanthropy. This interco with the Gurneys, he used afterwards to say, gave the colouring to his They encouraged his efforts at self- culture; and when he went to the University of Dublin and gained high honours there, the animating pa in his mind, he said, "was to carry back to them the prizes which they prompted and enabled me to win." He married one of the daughters o family, and started in life, commencing as a clerk to his uncles Hanbur the London brewers. His power of will, which made him so difficult to with as a boy, now formed the backbone of his character, and made hi most indefatigable and energetic in whatever he undertook. He threw whole strength and bulk right down upon his work; and the great giant--"Elephant Buxton" they called him, for he stood some six feet fo height--became one of the most vigorous and practical of men. "I coul brew," he said, "one hour,--do mathematics the next,--and shoot the next,--and each with my whole soul." There was invincible energy and determination in whatever he did. Admitted a partner, he became the manager of the concern; and the vast business which he conducted fe influence through every fibre, and prospered far beyond its previous success. Nor did he allow his mind to lie fallow, for he gave his evenin diligently to self-culture, studying and digesting Blackstone, Montesqu and solid commentaries on English law. His maxims in reading were, "never to begin a book without finishing it;" "never to consider a book finished until it is mastered;" and "to study everything with the whole mind." When only thirty-two, Buxton entered parliament, and at once assume position of influence there, of which every honest, earnest, well-inform CHAPTER IX 210 man is secure, who enters that assembly of the first gentlemen in the The principal question to which he devoted himself was the complete emancipation of the slaves in the British colonies. He himself used to attribute the interest which he early felt in this question to the influen Priscilla Gurney, one of the Earlham family,--a woman of a fine intellec and warm heart, abounding in illustrious virtues. When on her deathb 1821, she repeatedly sent for Buxton, and urged him "to make the cau the slaves the great object of his life." Her last act was to attempt to reiterate the solemn charge, and she expired in the ineffectual effort. Buxton never forgot her counsel; he named one of his daughters after and on the day on which she was married from his house, on the 1st o August, 1834,-- the day of Negro emancipation--after his Priscilla had manumitted from her filial service, and left her father's home in the company of her husband, Buxton sat down and thus wrote to a friend: bride is just gone; everything has passed off to admiration; and THER NOT A SLAVE IN THE BRITISH COLONIES!" Buxton was no genius--not a great intellectual leader nor discoverer, b mainly an earnest, straightforward, resolute, energetic man. Indeed, h whole character is most forcibly expressed in his own words, which ev young man might well stamp upon his soul: "The longer I live," said he "the more I am certain that the great difference between men, betwee feeble and the powerful, the great and the insignificant, is ENERGY-INVINCIBLE DETERMINATION--a purpose once fixed, and then death or victory! That quality will do anything that can be done in this world no talents, no circumstances, no opportunities, will make a two-legged creature a Man without it." CHAPTER IX --MEN OF BUSINESS "Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings."--Proverbs of Solomon. CHAPTER IX 211 "That man is but of the lower part of the world that is not brought up business and affairs."--Owen Feltham Hazlitt, in one of his clever essays, represents the man of business as mean sort of person put in a go-cart, yoked to a trade or profession; a that all he has to do is, not to go out of the beaten track, but merely to his affairs take their own course. "The great requisite," he says, "for th prosperous management of ordinary business is the want of imaginati of any ideas but those of custom and interest on the narrowest scale." But nothing could be more one-sided, and in effect untrue, than such a definition. Of course, there are narrow-minded men of business, as the narrow-minded scientific men, literary men, and legislators; but there also business men of large and comprehensive minds, capable of actio the very largest scale. As Burke said in his speech on the India Bill, he knew statesmen who were pedlers, and merchants who acted in the sp statesmen. If we take into account the qualities necessary for the successful cond any important undertaking,--that it requires special aptitude, promptit action on emergencies, capacity for organizing the labours often of lar numbers of men, great tact and knowledge of human nature, constant self-culture, and growing experience in the practical affairs of life,--it we think, be obvious that the school of business is by no means so nar as some writers would have us believe. Mr. Helps had gone much near the truth when he said that consummate men of business are as rare a as great poets,--rarer, perhaps, than veritable saints and martyrs. Inde no other pursuit can it so emphatically be said, as of this, that "Busine makes men." It has, however, been a favourite fallacy with dunces in all times, that of genius are unfitted for business, as well as that business occupation unfit men for the pursuits of genius. The unhappy youth who committe suicide a few years since because he had been "born to be a man and condemned to be a grocer," proved by the act that his soul was not eq even to the dignity of grocery. For it is not the calling that degrades th man, but the man that degrades the calling. All work that brings hone CHAPTER IX 212 is honourable, whether it be of hand or mind. The fingers may be soile the heart remain pure; for it is not material so much as moral dirt that defiles--greed far more than grime, and vice than verdigris. The greatest have not disdained to labour honestly and usefully for a l though at the same time aiming after higher things. Thales, the first o seven sages, Solon, the second founder of Athens, and Hyperates, the mathematician, were all traders. Plato, called the Divine by reason of excellence of his wisdom, defrayed his travelling expenses in Egypt by profits derived from the oil which he sold during his journey. Spinoza maintained himself by polishing glasses while he pursued his philosop investigations. Linnaeus, the great botanist, prosecuted his studies wh hammering leather and making shoes. Shakespeare was a successful manager of a theatre--perhaps priding himself more upon his practica qualities in that capacity than on his writing of plays and poetry. Pope of opinion that Shakespeare's principal object in cultivating literature to secure an honest independence. Indeed he seems to have been alto indifferent to literary reputation. It is not known that he superintende publication of a single play, or even sanctioned the printing of one; an chronology of his writings is still a mystery. It is certain, however, that prospered in his business, and realized sufficient to enable him to reti upon a competency to his native town of Stratford-upon-Avon. Chaucer was in early life a soldier, and afterwards an effective Commissioner of Customs, and Inspector of Woods and Crown Lands. Spencer was Secretary to the Lord Deputy of Ireland, was afterwards Sheriff of Cork, and is said to have been shrewd and attentive in matte business. Milton, originally a schoolmaster, was elevated to the post o Secretary to the Council of State during the Commonwealth; and the e Order-book of the Council, as well as many of Milton's letters which a preserved, give abundant evidence of his activity and usefulness in th office. Sir Isaac Newton proved himself an efficient Master of the Min new coinage of 1694 having been carried on under his immediate pers superintendence. Cowper prided himself upon his business punctualit though he confessed that he "never knew a poet, except himself, who punctual in anything." But against this we may set the lives of Wordsw CHAPTER IX 213 and Scott--the former a distributor of stamps, the latter a clerk to the of Session,--both of whom, though great poets, were eminently punctu and practical men of business. David Ricardo, amidst the occupations daily business as a London stock-jobber, in conducting which he acqui an ample fortune, was able to concentrate his mind upon his favourite subject--on which he was enabled to throw great light-- the principles political economy; for he united in himself the sagacious commercial m and the profound philosopher. Baily, the eminent astronomer, was ano stockbroker; and Allen, the chemist, was a silk manufacturer. We have abundant illustrations, in our own day, of the fact that the hig intellectual power is not incompatible with the active and efficient performance of routine duties. Grote, the great historian of Greece, w London banker. And it is not long since John Stuart Mill, one of our greatest living thinkers, retired from the Examiner's department of th India Company, carrying with him the admiration and esteem of his fe officers, not on account of his high views of philosophy, but because o high standard of efficiency which he had established in his office, and thoroughly satisfactory manner in which he had conducted the busine his department. The path of success in business is usually the path of common sense. Patient labour and application are as necessary here as in the acquisit knowledge or the pursuit of science. The old Greeks said, "to become able man in any profession, three things are necessary--nature, study, practice." In business, practice, wisely and diligently improved, is the secret of success. Some may make what are called "lucky hits," but lik money earned by gambling, such "hits" may only serve to lure one to r Bacon was accustomed to say that it was in business as in ways--the n way was commonly the foulest, and that if a man would go the fairest he must go somewhat about. The journey may occupy a longer time, b pleasure of the labour involved by it, and the enjoyment of the results produced, will be more genuine and unalloyed. To have a daily appoin task of even common drudgery to do makes the rest of life feel all the sweeter. CHAPTER IX 214 The fable of the labours of Hercules is the type of all human doing and success. Every youth should be made to feel that his happiness and well-doing in life must necessarily rely mainly on himself and the exer of his own energies, rather than upon the help and patronage of other late Lord Melbourne embodied a piece of useful advice in a letter whic wrote to Lord John Russell, in reply to an application for a provision fo one of Moore the poet's sons: "My dear John," he said, "I return you Moore's letter. I shall be ready to do what you like about it when we h the means. I think whatever is done should be done for Moore himself is more distinct, direct, and intelligible. Making a small provision for y men is hardly justifiable; and it is of all things the most prejudicial to themselves. They think what they have much larger than it really is; a they make no exertion. The young should never hear any language bu 'You have your own way to make, and it depends upon your own exert whether you starve or not.' Believe me, &c., MELBOURNE." Practical industry, wisely and vigorously applied, always produces its effects. It carries a man onward, brings out his individual character, a stimulates the action of others. All may not rise equally, yet each, on t whole, very much according to his deserts. "Though all cannot live on piazza," as the Tuscan proverb has it, "every one may feel the sun." On the whole, it is not good that human nature should have the road o made too easy. Better to be under the necessity of working hard and f meanly, than to have everything done ready to our hand and a pillow o down to repose upon. Indeed, to start in life with comparatively small means seems so necessary as a stimulus to work, that it may almost b down as one of the conditions essential to success in life. Hence, an eminent judge, when asked what contributed most to success at the b replied, "Some succeed by great talent, some by high connexions, som miracle, but the majority by commencing without a shilling." We have heard of an architect of considerable accomplishments,--a ma who had improved himself by long study, and travel in the classical lan of the East,--who came home to commence the practice of his professi He determined to begin anywhere, provided he could be employed; an CHAPTER IX 215 accordingly undertook a business connected with dilapidations,--one o lowest and least remunerative departments of the architect's calling. B had the good sense not to be above his trade, and he had the resolutio work his way upward, so that he only got a fair start. One hot day in Ju friend found him sitting astride of a house roof occupied with his dilapidation business. Drawing his hand across his perspiring counten he exclaimed, "Here's a pretty business for a man who has been all ov Greece!" However, he did his work, such as it was, thoroughly and we persevered until he advanced by degrees to more remunerative branc employment, and eventually he rose to the highest walks of his profes The necessity of labour may, indeed, be regarded as the main root and spring of all that we call progress in individuals, and civilization in nat and it is doubtful whether any heavier curse could be imposed on man the complete gratification of all his wishes without effort on his part, leaving nothing for his hopes, desires or struggles. The feeling that lif destitute of any motive or necessity for action, must be of all others th most distressing and insupportable to a rational being. The Marquis d Spinola asking Sir Horace Vere what his brother died of, Sir Horace replied, "He died, Sir, of having nothing to do." "Alas!" said Spinola, "t is enough to kill any general of us all." Those who fail in life are however very apt to assume a tone of injured innocence, and conclude too hastily that everybody excepting themsel has had a hand in their personal misfortunes. An eminent writer lately published a book, in which he described his numerous failures in busi naively admitting, at the same time, that he was ignorant of the multiplication table; and he came to the conclusion that the real cause ill-success in life was the money-worshipping spirit of the age. Lamart also did not hesitate to profess his contempt for arithmetic; but, had it less, probably we should not have witnessed the unseemly spectacle o admirers of that distinguished personage engaged in collecting subscriptions for his support in his old age. Again, some consider themselves born to ill luck, and make up their m that the world invariably goes against them without any fault on their CHAPTER IX 216 part. We have heard of a person of this sort, who went so far as to dec his belief that if he had been a hatter people would have been born wi heads! There is however a Russian proverb which says that Misfortun next door to Stupidity; and it will often be found that men who are constantly lamenting their luck, are in some way or other reaping the consequences of their own neglect, mismanagement, improvidence, o of application. Dr. Johnson, who came up to London with a single guin his pocket, and who once accurately described himself in his signatur letter addressed to a noble lord, as Impransus, or Dinnerless, has hon said, "All the complaints which are made of the world are unjust; I nev knew a man of merit neglected; it was generally by his own fault that failed of success." Washington Irying, the American author, held like views. "As for the ta said he, "about modest merit being neglected, it is too often a cant, by which indolent and irresolute men seek to lay their want of success at door of the public. Modest merit is, however, too apt to be inactive, or negligent, or uninstructed merit. Well matured and well disciplined ta always sure of a market, provided it exerts itself; but it must not cowe home and expect to be sought for. There is a good deal of cant too abo success of forward and impudent men, while men of retiring worth are passed over with neglect. But it usually happens that those forward m have that valuable quality of promptness and activity without which w is a mere inoperative property. A barking dog is often more useful tha sleeping lion." Attention, application, accuracy, method, punctuality, and despatch, ar principal qualities required for the efficient conduct of business of any These, at first sight, may appear to be small matters; and yet they are essential importance to human happiness, well-being, and usefulness. are little things, it is true; but human life is made up of comparative tr It is the repetition of little acts which constitute not only the sum of hu character, but which determine the character of nations. And where m nations have broken down, it will almost invariably be found that negl little things was the rock on which they split. Every human being has to be performed, and, therefore, has need of cultivating the capacity f CHAPTER IX 217 doing them; whether the sphere of action be the management of a household, the conduct of a trade or profession, or the government of nation. The examples we have already given of great workers in various branc of industry, art, and science, render it unnecessary further to enforce importance of persevering application in any department of life. It is t result of every-day experience that steady attention to matters of deta at the root of human progress; and that diligence, above all, is the mo good luck. Accuracy is also of much importance, and an invariable ma good training in a man. Accuracy in observation, accuracy in speech, accuracy in the transaction of affairs. What is done in business must b done; for it is better to accomplish perfectly a small amount of work, t to half-do ten times as much. A wise man used to say, "Stay a little, tha may make an end the sooner." Too little attention, however, is paid to this highly important quality of accuracy. As a man eminent in practical science lately observed to us, astonishing how few people I have met with in the course of my experience, who can DEFINE A FACT accurately." Yet in business affa it is the manner in which even small matters are transacted, that often decides men for or against you. With virtue, capacity, and good condu other respects, the person who is habitually inaccurate cannot be trus his work has to be gone over again; and he thus causes an infinity of annoyance, vexation, and trouble. It was one of the characteristic qualities of Charles James Fox, that he thoroughly pains-taking in all that he did. When appointed Secretary o State, being piqued at some observation as to his bad writing, he actu took a writing-master, and wrote copies like a schoolboy until he had sufficiently improved himself. Though a corpulent man, he was wonderfully active at picking up cut tennis balls, and when asked how contrived to do so, he playfully replied, "Because I am a very pains-tak man." The same accuracy in trifling matters was displayed by him in t of greater importance; and he acquired his reputation, like the painter "neglecting nothing." CHAPTER IX 218 Method is essential, and enables a larger amount of work to be got th with satisfaction. "Method," said the Reverend Richard Cecil, "is like packing things in a box; a good packer will get in half as much again a bad one." Cecil's despatch of business was extraordinary, his maxim b "The shortest way to do many things is to do only one thing at once;" a he never left a thing undone with a view of recurring to it at a period more leisure. When business pressed, he rather chose to encroach on hours of meals and rest than omit any part of his work. De Witt's maxi was like Cecil's: "One thing at a time." "If," said he, "I have any necess despatches to make, I think of nothing else till they are finished; if any domestic affairs require my attention, I give myself wholly up to them they are set in order." A French minister, who was alike remarkable for his despatch of busin and his constant attendance at places of amusement, being asked how contrived to combine both objects, replied, "Simply by never postponi till to-morrow what should be done to-day." Lord Brougham has said th certain English statesman reversed the process, and that his maxim w 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 practice is that of the indolent and the unsucces Such men, too, are apt to rely upon agents, who are not always to be r upon. Important affairs must be attended to in person. "If you want yo business done," says the proverb, "go and do it; if you don't want it do send some one else." An indolent country gentleman had a freehold estate producing about hundred a-year. Becoming involved in debt, he sold half the estate, an the remainder to an industrious farmer for twenty years. About the en the term the farmer called to pay his rent, and asked the owner wheth would sell the farm. "Will YOU buy it?" asked the owner, surprised. "Ye if we can agree about the price." "That is exceedingly strange," observ the gentleman; "pray, tell me how it happens that, while I could not liv upon twice as much land for which I paid no rent, you are regularly pa me two 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 sai CHAPTER IX 219 GO, I got up and said COME; you laid in bed and enjoyed your estate, rose in the morning and minded my business." Sir Walter Scott, writing to a youth who had obtained a situation and a for his advice, gave him in reply this sound counsel: "Beware of stumb over a propensity which easily besets you from not having your time fu 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 o recreation after business, never before it. When a regiment is under m the rear is often thrown into confusion because the front do not move steadily and without interruption. It is the same with business. If that is first in hand is not instantly, steadily, and regularly despatched, othe things accumulate behind, till affairs begin to press all at once, and no human brain can stand the confusion." Promptitude in action may be stimulated by a due consideration of the value of time. An Italian philosopher was accustomed to call time his estate: an estate which produces nothing of value without cultivation, duly improved, never fails to recompense the labours of the diligent worker. Allowed to lie waste, the product will be only noxious weeds a vicious growths of all kinds. One of the minor uses of steady employm is, that it keeps one out of mischief, for truly an idle brain is the devil' workshop, and a lazy man the devil's bolster. To be occupied is to be possessed as by a tenant, whereas to be idle is to be empty; and when doors of the imagination are opened, temptation finds a ready access, evil thoughts come trooping in. It is observed at sea, that men are nev much disposed to grumble and mutiny as when least employed. Hence old captain, when there was nothing else to do, would issue the order "scour the anchor!" Men of business are accustomed to quote the maxim that Time is mon but it is more; the proper improvement of it is self- culture, self-improvement, and growth of character. An hour wasted daily on tr or in indolence, would, if devoted to self- improvement, make an ignor man wise in a few years, and employed in good works, would make his fruitful, and death a harvest of worthy deeds. Fifteen minutes a day de CHAPTER IX 220 to self-improvement, will be felt at the end of the year. Good thoughts carefully gathered experience take up no room, and may be carried ab our companions everywhere, without cost or incumbrance. An econom use of time is the true mode of securing leisure: it enables us to get th business and carry it forward, instead of being driven by it. On the oth hand, the miscalculation of time involves us in perpetual hurry, confus and difficulties; and life becomes a mere shuffle of expedients, usually followed 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 a of it, and many do the same with their time. The hours are allowed to by unemployed, and then, when life is fast waning, they bethink thems of the duty of making a wiser use of it. But the habit of listlessness an idleness may already have become confirmed, and they are unable to the bonds with which they have permitted themselves to become boun Lost wealth may be replaced by industry, lost knowledge by study, lost health by temperance or medicine, but lost time is gone for ever. A proper consideration of the value of time, will also inspire habits of punctuality. "Punctuality," said Louis XIV., "is the politeness of kings." is also the duty of gentlemen, and the necessity of men of business. N 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 appointment and does not keep you waiting for him, shows that he ha regard for your time as well as for his own. Thus punctuality is one of modes by which we testify our personal respect for those whom we ar called upon to meet in the business of life. It is also conscientiousness measure; for an appointment is a contract, express or implied, and he does not keep it breaks faith, as well as dishonestly uses other people time, and thus inevitably loses character. We naturally come to the conclusion that the person who is careless about time will be careless business, and that he is not the one to be trusted with the transaction matters of importance. When Washington's secretary excused himself the lateness of his attendance and laid the blame upon his watch, his m quietly said, "Then you must get another watch, or I another secretary CHAPTER IX 221 The person who is negligent of time and its employment is usually fou be a general disturber of others' peace and serenity. It was wittily said Lord Chesterfield of the old Duke of Newcastle- -"His Grace loses an h in the morning, and is looking for it all the rest of the day." Everybody whom the unpunctual man has to do is thrown from time to time into a of fever: he is systematically late; regular only in his irregularity. He conducts his dawdling as if upon system; arrives at his appointment a time; gets to the railway station after the train has started; posts his le when the box has closed. Thus business is thrown into confusion, and everybody concerned is put out of temper. It will generally be found th the men who are thus habitually behind time are as habitually behind success; and the world generally casts them aside to swell the ranks o grumblers and the railers against fortune. In addition to the ordinary working qualities the business man of the highest class requires quick perception and firmness in the execution plans. Tact is also important; and though this is partly the gift of natur yet capable of being cultivated and developed by observation and experience. Men of this quality are quick to see the right mode of acti and if they have decision of purpose, are prompt to carry out their undertakings to a successful issue. These qualities are especially valu and indeed indispensable, in those who direct the action of other men large scale, as for instance, in the case of the commander of an army i field. It is not merely necessary that the general should be great as a w but also as a man of business. He must possess great tact, much know of character, and ability to organize the movements of a large mass of whom he has to feed, clothe, and furnish with whatever may be neces in order that they may keep the field and win battles. In these respect Napoleon and Wellington were both first-rate men of business. Though Napoleon had an immense love for details, he had also a vivid power of imagination, which enabled him to look along extended lines action, and deal with those details on a large scale, with judgment and rapidity. He possessed such knowledge of character as enabled him to select, almost unerringly, the best agents for the execution of his desig But he trusted as little as possible to agents in matters of great mome CHAPTER IX 222 which important results depended. This feature in his character is illu in a remarkable degree by the 'Napoleon Correspondence,' now in cou publication, and particularly by the contents of the 15th volume, {25} which include the letters, orders, and despatches, written by the Emp Finkenstein, a little chateau on the frontier of Poland in the year 1807 shortly after the victory of Eylau. The French army was then lying encamped along the river Passarge w the Russians before them, the Austrians on their right flank, and the conquered Prussians in their rear. A long line of communications had maintained with France, through a hostile country; but so carefully, an with such foresight was this provided for, that it is said Napoleon neve missed a post. The movements of armies, the bringing up of reinforcem from remote points in France, Spain, Italy, and Germany, the opening canals and the levelling of roads to enable the produce of Poland and Prussia to be readily transported to his encampments, had his unceas attention, down to the minutest details. We find him directing where h were to be obtained, making arrangements for an adequate supply of saddles, ordering shoes for the soldiers, and specifying the number of rations of bread, biscuit, and spirits, that were to be brought to camp, stored in magazines for the use of the troops. At the same time we fin writing to Paris giving directions for the reorganization of the French College, devising a scheme of public education, dictating bulletins and articles for the 'Moniteur,' revising the details of the budgets, giving instructions to architects as to alterations to be made at the Tuileries Church of the Madelaine, throwing an occasional sarcasm at Madame Stael and the Parisian journals, interfering to put down a squabble at Grand Opera, carrying on a correspondence with the Sultan of Turkey the Schah of Persia, so that while his body was at Finkenstein, his min seemed to be working at a hundred different places in Paris, in Europ throughout the world. We find him in one letter asking Ney if he has duly received the muske which have been sent him; in another he gives directions to Prince Jer as to the shirts, greatcoats, clothes, shoes, shakos, and arms, to be se out to the Wurtemburg regiments; again he presses Cambaceres to fo CHAPTER IX 223 to the army a double stock of corn-- "The IFS and the BUTS," said he, at present out of season, and above all it must be done with speed." Th informs Daru that the army want shirts, and that they don't come to h To Massena he writes, "Let me know if your biscuit and bread arrangements are yet completed." To the Grand due de Berg, he gives directions as to the accoutrements of the cuirassiers--"They complain the men want sabres; send an officer to obtain them at Posen. It is als they want helmets; order that they be made at Ebling. . . . It is not by sleeping that one can accomplish anything." Thus no point of detail wa neglected, and the energies of all were stimulated into action with extraordinary power. Though many of the Emperor's days were occup by inspections of his troops,--in the course of which he sometimes rod from thirty to forty leagues a day,--and by reviews, receptions, and aff of state, leaving but little time for business matters, he neglected noth that account; but devoted the greater part of his nights, when necessa examining budgets, dictating dispatches, and attending to the thousan matters of detail in the organization and working of the Imperial Government; the machinery of which was for the most part concentra his own head. Like Napoleon, the Duke of Wellington was a first-rate man of busines and it is not perhaps saying too much to aver that it was in no small d because of his possession of a business faculty amounting to genius, t the Duke never lost a battle. While a subaltern, he became dissatisfied with the slowness of his promotion, and having passed from the infantry to the cavalry twice, a back again, without advancement, he applied to Lord Camden, then Viceroy of Ireland, for employment in the Revenue or Treasury Board. 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 manufact But his application failed, and he remained with the army to become t 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 learnt, amidst CHAPTER IX 224 misfortunes and defeats, how bad business arrangements and bad generalship serve to ruin the morale of an army. Ten years after enter army we find him a colonel in India, reported by his superiors as an off of indefatigable energy and application. He entered into the minutest of the service, and sought to raise the discipline of his men to the high standard. "The regiment of Colonel Wellesley," wrote General Harris in 1799, "is a model regiment; on the score of soldierly bearing, disciplin instruction, and orderly behaviour it is above all praise." Thus qualifyi himself for posts of greater confidence, he was shortly after nominate governor of the capital of Mysore. In the war with the Mahrattas he w first called upon to try his hand at generalship; and at thirty-four he w memorable battle of Assaye, with an army composed of 1500 British a 5000 sepoys, over 20,000 Mahratta infantry and 30,000 cavalry. But s brilliant a victory did not in the least disturb his equanimity, or affect perfect honesty of his character. Shortly after this event the opportunity occurred for exhibiting his admirable practical qualities as an administrator. Placed in command important district immediately after the capture of Seringapatam, his object was to establish rigid order and discipline among his own men. Flushed with victory, the troops were found riotous and disorderly. "Se me the provost marshal," said he, "and put him under my orders: till s of the marauders are hung, it is impossible to expect order or safety." rigid severity of Wellington in the field, though it was the dread, prove salvation of his troops in many campaigns. His next step was to re-est the markets and re-open the sources of supply. General Harris wrote t Governor-general, strongly commending Colonel Wellesley for the per discipline he had established, and for his "judicious and masterly arrangements in respect to supplies, which opened an abundant free m and inspired confidence into dealers of every description." The same c attention to, and mastery of details, characterized him throughout his career; and it is remarkable that one of his ablest despatches to Lord full of practical information as to the conduct of the campaign, was wr whilst the column he commanded was crossing the Toombuddra, in th face of the vastly superior army of Dhoondiah, posted on the opposite and while a thousand matters of the deepest interest were pressing up CHAPTER IX 225 commander's mind. But it was one of his most remarkable characteris thus to be able to withdraw himself temporarily from the business immediately in hand, and to bend his full powers upon the considerati matters totally distinct; even the most difficult circumstances on such occasions failing to embarrass or intimidate him. Returned to England with a reputation for generalship, Sir Arthur Wel met with immediate employment. In 1808 a corps of 10,000 men desti to liberate Portugal was placed under his charge. He landed, fought, a won two battles, and signed the Convention of Cintra. After the death John Moore he was entrusted with the command of a new expedition t Portugal. But Wellington was fearfully overmatched throughout his Peninsular campaigns. From 1809 to 1813 he never had more than 30 British troops under his command, at a time when there stood oppose him in the Peninsula some 350,000 French, mostly veterans, led by so Napoleon's ablest generals. How was he to contend against such imm forces with any fair prospect of success? His clear discernment and st common sense soon taught him that he must adopt a different policy f that of the Spanish generals, who were invariably beaten and disperse whenever they ventured to offer battle in the open plains. He perceive had yet to create the army that was to contend against the French wit reasonable chance of success. Accordingly, after the battle of Talavera 1809, when he found himself encompassed on all sides by superior for of French, he retired into Portugal, there to carry out the settled polic which he had by this time determined. It was, to organise a Portugues army under British officers, and teach them to act in combination with own troops, in the mean time avoiding the peril of a defeat by declinin engagements. He would thus, he conceived, destroy the morale of the French, who could not exist without victories; and when his army was for action, and the enemy demoralized, he would then fall upon them all his might. The extraordinary qualities displayed by Lord Wellington throughout t immortal campaigns, can only be appreciated after a perusal of his despatches, which contain the unvarnished tale of the manifold ways a means by which he laid the foundations of his success. Never was man CHAPTER IX 226 more tried by difficulty and opposition, arising not less from the imbec falsehoods and intrigues of the British Government of the day, than fro the selfishness, cowardice, and vanity of the people he went to save. I indeed, be said of him, that he sustained the war in Spain by his indiv firmness and self-reliance, which never failed him even in the midst of great discouragements. He had not only to fight Napoleon's veterans, also to hold in check the Spanish juntas and the Portuguese regency. H had the utmost difficulty in obtaining provisions and clothing for his tr and it will scarcely be credited that, while engaged with the enemy in battle of Talavera, the Spaniards, who ran away, fell upon the baggage the British army, and the ruffians actually plundered it! These and oth vexations the Duke bore with a sublime patience and self-control, and on his course, in the face of ingratitude, treachery, and opposition, wit indomitable firmness. He neglected nothing, and attended to every important detail of business himself. When he found that food for his t was not to be obtained from England, and that he must rely upon his o resources for feeding them, he forthwith commenced business as a co merchant on a large scale, in copartnery with the British Minister at L Commissariat bills were created, with which grain was bought in the p of the Mediterranean and in South America. When he had thus filled h magazines, the overplus was sold to the Portuguese, who were greatly want of provisions. He left nothing whatever to chance, but provided f every contingency. He gave his attention to the minutest details of the service; and was accustomed to concentrate his whole energies, from to time, on such apparently ignominious matters as soldiers' shoes, camp-kettles, biscuits and horse fodder. His magnificent business qua were everywhere felt, and there can be no doubt that, by the care with which he provided for every contingency, and the personal attention w 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 sold in Europe, with whom he declared it to be possible to go anywhere an anything. We have already referred to his remarkable power of abstracting hims from the work, no matter how engrossing, immediately in hand, and concentrating his energies upon the details of some entirely different CHAPTER IX 227 business. Thus Napier relates that it was while he was preparing to fig battle of Salamanca that he had to expose to the Ministers at home th futility of relying upon a loan; it was on the heights of San Christoval, the field of battle itself, that he demonstrated the absurdity of attempt establish a Portuguese bank; it was in the trenches of Burgos that he dissected Funchal's scheme of finance, and exposed the folly of attem the sale of church property; and on each occasion, he showed himself well acquainted with these subjects as with the minutest detail in the mechanism of armies. Another feature in his character, showing the upright man of business his thorough honesty. Whilst Soult ransacked and carried away with h from Spain numerous pictures of great value, Wellington did not appropriate to himself a single farthing's worth of property. Everywhe paid his way, even when in the enemy's country. When he had crossed French frontier, followed by 40,000 Spaniards, who sought to "make fortunes" by pillage and plunder, he first rebuked their officers, and th finding his efforts to restrain them unavailing, he sent them back into own country. It is a remarkable fact, that, even in France the peasantr 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 overwhelmed with debts I can scarcely stir out of my house on account of public creditors wait demand payment of what is due to them." Jules Maurel, in his estimat the Duke's character, says, "Nothing can be grander or more nobly or than this admission. This old soldier, after thirty years' service, this iro man and victorious general, established in an enemy's country at the h of an immense army, is afraid of his creditors! This is a kind of fear tha seldom troubled the mind of conquerors and invaders; and I doubt if t annals of war could present anything comparable to this sublime simplicity." But the Duke himself, had the matter been put to him, wou most probably have disclaimed any intention of acting even grandly or nobly in the matter; merely regarding the punctual payment of his deb the best and most honourable mode of conducting his business. CHAPTER IX 228 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 neigh the cast of the bank--'good measure, heaped up, and running over,'--an will not lose by it in the end." A well-known brewer of beer attributed success to the liberality with which he used his malt. Going up to the v and tasting it, he would say, "Still rather poor, my lads; give it another of the malt." The brewer put his character into his beer, and it proved generous accordingly, obtaining a reputation in England, India, and th colonies, which laid the foundation of a large fortune. Integrity of wor deed ought to be the very cornerstone of all business transactions. To tradesman, the merchant, and manufacturer, it should be what honour the soldier, and charity to the Christian. In the humblest calling there always be found scope for the exercise of this uprightness of characte Hugh Miller speaks of the mason with whom he served his apprentice as one who "PUT HIS CONSCIENCE INTO EVERY STONE THAT HE LAID." So the true mechanic will pride himself upon the thoroughness solidity of his work, and the high-minded contractor upon the honesty performance of his contract in every particular. The upright manufact will find not only honour and reputation, but substantial success, in th genuineness of the article which he produces, and the merchant in the honesty of what he sells, and that it really is what it seems to be. Baro Dupin, speaking of the general probity of Englishmen, which he held t a principal cause of their success, observed, "We may succeed for a tim fraud, by surprise, by violence; but we can succeed permanently only means directly opposite. It is not alone the courage, the intelligence, t activity, of the merchant and manufacturer which maintain the superio of their productions and the character of their country; it is far more t wisdom, their economy, and, above all, their probity. If ever in the Brit Islands the useful citizen should lose these virtues, we may be sure th England, as for every other country, the vessels of a degenerate comm repulsed from every shore, would speedily disappear from those seas surface they now cover with the treasures of the universe, bartered fo treasures of the industry of the three kingdoms." CHAPTER IX 229 It must be admitted, that Trade tries character perhaps more severely any other pursuit in life. It puts to the severest tests honesty, self-deni justice, and truthfulness; and men of business who pass through such unstained are perhaps worthy of as great honour as soldiers who prov courage amidst the fire and perils of battle. And, to the credit of the multitudes of men engaged in the various departments of trade, we th must be admitted that on the whole they pass through their trials nob we reflect but for a moment on the vast amount of wealth daily entrus even to subordinate persons, who themselves probably earn but a bar competency--the loose cash which is constantly passing through the h of shopmen, agents, brokers, and clerks in banking houses,--and note comparatively few are the breaches of trust which occur amidst all thi temptation, it will probably be admitted that this steady daily honesty conduct is most honourable to human nature, if it do not even tempt u be proud of it. The same trust and confidence reposed by men of busin in each other, as implied by the system of Credit, which is mainly base upon the principle of honour, would be surprising if it were not so muc matter of ordinary practice in business transactions. Dr. Chalmers has said, that the implicit trust with which merchants are accustomed to c in distant agents, separated from them perhaps by half the globe--ofte consigning vast wealth to persons, recommended only by their charac whom perhaps they have never seen--is probably the finest act of hom which men can render to one another. Although common honesty is still happily in the ascendant amongst common people, and the general business community of England is st sound at heart, putting their honest character into their respective callings,--there are unhappily, as there have been in all times, but too instances of flagrant dishonesty and fraud, exhibited by the unscrupul the over-speculative, and the intensely selfish in their haste to be rich There are tradesmen who adulterate, contractors who "scamp," manufacturers who give us shoddy instead of wool, "dressing" instead cotton, cast-iron tools instead of steel, needles without eyes, razors m only "to sell," and swindled fabrics in many shapes. But these we mus to be the exceptional cases, of low-minded and grasping men, who, th they may gain wealth which they probably cannot enjoy, will never gai CHAPTER IX 230 honest character, nor secure that without which wealth is nothing--a h peace. "The rogue cozened not me, but his own conscience," said Bish Latimer of a cutler who made him pay twopence for a knife not worth penny. Money, earned by screwing, cheating, and overreaching, may f time dazzle the eyes of the unthinking; but the bubbles blown by unscrupulous rogues, when full-blown, usually glitter only to burst. Th Sadleirs, Dean Pauls, and Redpaths, for the most part, come to a sad e even in this world; and though the successful swindles of others may n "found out," and the gains of their roguery may remain with them, it w as a curse and not as a blessing. It is possible that the scrupulously honest man may not grow rich so f the unscrupulous and dishonest one; but the success will be of a truer earned without fraud or injustice. And even though a man should for a be unsuccessful, still he must be honest: better lose all and save chara For character is itself a fortune; and if the high-principled man will bu on his way courageously, success will surely come,--nor will the highes reward of all be withheld from him. Wordsworth well describes the "H Warrior," as he "Who comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait For we or honour, or for worldly state; Whom they must follow, on whose head must fall, Like showers of manna, if they come at all." As an example of the high-minded mercantile man trained in upright h of business, and distinguished for justice, truthfulness, and honesty of dealing in all things, the career of the well-known David Barclay, gran of Robert Barclay, of Ury, the author of the celebrated 'Apology for the Quakers,' may be briefly referred to. For many years he was the head extensive house in Cheapside, chiefly engaged in the American trade; like Granville Sharp, he entertained so strong an opinion against the w with our American colonies, that he determined to retire altogether fr trade. Whilst a merchant, he was as much distinguished for his talents knowledge, integrity, and power, as he afterwards was for his patriotis and munificent philanthropy. He was a mirror of truthfulness and hone CHAPTER IX 231 and, as became the good Christian and true gentleman, his word was always held to be as good as his bond. His position, and his high chara induced the Ministers of the day on many occasions to seek his advice when examined before the House of Commons on the subject of the American dispute, his views were so clearly expressed, and his advice so strongly justified by the reasons stated by him, that Lord North pub acknowledged that he had derived more information from David Barcl than from all others east of Temple Bar. On retiring from business, it w not to rest in luxurious ease, but to enter upon new labours of usefuln others. With ample means, he felt that he still owed to society the duty good example. He founded a house of industry near his residence at Walthamstow, which he supported at a heavy outlay for several years, 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 neighbourhood. When an estate in Jamaica fell to him, he determined, though at a cost of some 10,000l., at once to give liberty to the whole slaves on the property. He sent out an agent, who hired a ship, and he the little slave community transported to one of the free American sta where they settled down and prospered. Mr. Barclay had been assured the negroes were too ignorant and too barbarous for freedom, and it w thus that he determined practically to demonstrate the fallacy of the assertion. In dealing with his accumulated savings, he made himself th 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 mun aid during his life, watched and aided them in their respective careers thus not only laid the foundation, but lived to see the maturity, of som the largest and most prosperous business concerns in the metropolis. believe that to this day some of our most eminent merchants--such as Gurneys, Hanburys, and Buxtons--are proud to acknowledge with grat the obligations they owe to David Barclay for the means of their first introduction to life, and for the benefits of his counsel and countenanc 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 ex for men of business in all time to come. CHAPTER X 232 CHAPTER X --MONEY--ITS USE AND ABUSE "Not for to hide it in a hedge, Nor for a train attendant, But for the glo 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."--Shakepeare. Never treat money affairs with levity--Money is character.--Sir E. L. Bulwer Lytton. How a man uses money--makes it, saves it, and spends it--is perhaps o the best tests of practical wisdom. Although money ought by no mean be regarded as a chief end of man's life, neither is it a trifling matter, held in philosophic contempt, representing as it does to so large an ex the means of physical comfort and social well-being. Indeed, some of t finest qualities of human nature are intimately related to the right use money; such as generosity, honesty, justice, and self-sacrifice; as well the practical virtues of economy and providence. On the other hand, t are their counterparts of avarice, fraud, injustice, and selfishness, as displayed by the inordinate lovers of gain; and the vices of thriftlessne extravagance, and improvidence, on the part of those who misuse and the means entrusted to them. "So that," as is wisely observed by Henr Taylor in his thoughtful 'Notes from Life,' "a right measure and manne getting, saving, spending, giving, taking, lending, borrowing, and bequeathing, would almost argue a perfect man." Comfort in worldly circumstances is a con ion which every man is just 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 nature; and enables him to provide for those of his own household, wi which, says the Apostle, a man is "worse than an infidel." Nor ought th duty to be any the less indifferent to us, that the respect which our fellow-men entertain for us in no slight degree depends upon the man CHAPTER X 233 which we exercise the opportunities which present themselves for our honourable advancement in life. The very effort required to be made t succeed in life with this object, is of itself an education; stimulating a sense of self-respect, bringing out his practical qualities, and disciplin him in the exercise of patience, perseverance, and such like virtues. T provident and careful man must necessarily be a thoughtful man, for h lives not merely for the present, but with provident forecast makes arrangements for the future. He must also be a temperate man, and e the virtue of self-denial, than which nothing is so much calculated to g strength to the character. John Sterling says truly, that "the worst edu which teaches self denial, is better than the best which teaches everyt else, and not that." The Romans rightly employed the same word (virt designate courage, which is in a physical sense what the other is in a the highest virtue of all being victory over ourselves. Hence the lesson of self-denial--the sacrificing of a present gratificatio a future good--is one of the last that is learnt. Those classes which wo hardest might naturally be expected to value the most the money whic they earn. Yet the readiness with which so many are accustomed to ea and drink up their earnings as they go, renders them to a great extent helpless and dependent upon the frugal. There are large numbers of p among us who, though enjoying sufficient means of comfort and independence, are often found to be barely a day's march ahead of ac want when a time of pressure occurs; and hence a great cause of soci helplessness and suffering. On one occasion a deputation waited on Lo John Russell, respecting the taxation levied on the working classes of country, when the noble lord took the opportunity of remarking, "You rely upon it that the Government of this country durst not tax the wor classes to anything like the extent to which they tax themselves in the expenditure upon intoxicating drinks alone!" Of all great public questi there is perhaps none more important than this,--no great work of refo calling more loudly for labourers. But it must be admitted that "self-de and self-help" would make a poor rallying cry for the hustings; and it i be feared that the patriotism of this day has but little regard for such common things as individual economy and providence, although it is b practice of such virtues only that the genuine independence of the ind CHAPTER X 234 classes is to be secured. "Prudence, frugality, and good management," Samuel Drew, the philosophical shoemaker, "are excellent artists for mending bad times: they occupy but little room in any dwelling, but w furnish a more effectual remedy for the evils of life than any Reform B that ever passed the Houses of Parliament." Socrates said, "Let him th would move the world move 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 Chu and the State than to reform the least of our own bad habits; and in su matters it is usually found more agreeable to our tastes, as it certainly common practice, to begin with our neighbours rather than with ourse 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 the skirts of society, the sport of times and seasons. Having no respec themselves, they will fail in securing the respect of others. In commer crises, such men must inevitably go to the wall. Wanting that husband power which a store of savings, no matter how small, invariably gives them, they will be at every man's mercy, and, if possessed of right feel they cannot but regard with fear and trembling the future possible fat their wives and children. "The world," once said Mr. Cobden to the working men of Huddersfield, "has always been divided into two classes,--those who have saved, and those who have spent--the thrifty the extravagant. The building of all the houses, the mills, the bridges, the ships, and the accomplishment of all other great works which have rendered man civilized and happy, has been done by the savers, the th and those who have wasted their resources have always been their sla has been the law of nature and of Providence that this should be so; a were an impostor if I promised any class that they would advance themselves 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 th CHAPTER X 235 "so far as honesty was concerned, it was to be found in pretty equal am among all classes," he used the following words:- "There is only one w that is safe for any man, or any number of men, by which they can ma their present position if it be a good one, or raise themselves above it a bad one,- -that is, by the practice of the virtues of industry, frugality, temperance, and honesty. There is no royal road by which men can rai themselves from a position which they feel to be uncomfortable and unsatisfactory, as regards their mental or physical condition, except b practice of those virtues by which they find numbers amongst them ar continually advancing and bettering themselves." There is no reason why the condition of the average workman should a useful, honourable, respectable, and happy one. The whole body of t working classes might, (with few exceptions) be as frugal, virtuous, well-informed, and well-conditioned as many individuals of the same c have already made themselves. What some men are, all without difficu might be. Employ the same means, and the same results will follow. Th there should be a class of men who live by their daily labour in every s is the ordinance of God, and doubtless is a wise and righteous one; bu this class should be otherwise than frugal, contented, intelligent, and is not the design of Providence, but springs solely from the weakness, self-indulgence, and perverseness of man himself. The healthy spirit o 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 o but by levelling them up to a higher and still advancing standard of religion, intelligence, and virtue. "All moral philosophy," says Montaig "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. When a man casts his glance forward, he will find that the three chief temporal contingencies for which he has to provide are want of employment, sickness, and death. The two first he may escape, but th is inevitable. It is, however, the duty of the prudent man so to live, and to arrange, that the pressure of suffering, in event of either contingen occurring, shall be mitigated to as great an extent as possible, not onl himself, but also to those who are dependent upon him for their comfo CHAPTER X 236 and subsistence. Viewed in this light the honest earning and the fruga of money are of the greatest importance. Rightly earned, it is the representative of patient industry and untiring effort, of temptation re and hope rewarded; and rightly used, it affords indications of prudenc forethought and self- denial--the true basis of manly character. Though money represents a crowd of objects without any real worth or utility, also represents many things of great value; not only food, clothing, an household satisfaction, but personal self-respect and independence. T store of savings is to the working man as a barricade against want; it secures him a footing, and enables him to wait, it may be in cheerfuln and hope, until better days come round. The very endeavour to gain a firmer position in the world has a certain dignity in it, and tends to ma man stronger and better. At all events it gives him greater freedom of action, and enables him to husband his strength for future effort. But the man who is always hovering on the verge of want is in a state far removed from that of slavery. He is in no sense his own master, bu constant peril of falling under the bondage of others, and accepting th terms which they dictate to him. He cannot help being, in a measure, servile, for he dares not look the world boldly in the face; and in adver times he must look either to alms or the poor's rates. If work fails him altogether, he has not the means of moving to another field of employm he is fixed to his parish like a limpet to its rock, and can neither migra emigrate. To secure independence, the practice of simple economy is all that is necessary. Economy requires neither superior courage nor eminent vi is satisfied with ordinary energy, and the capacity of average minds. Economy, at bottom, is but the spirit of order applied in the administra of domestic affairs: it means management, regularity, prudence, and t avoidance of waste. The spirit of economy was expressed by our Divin Master in the words 'Gather up the fragments that remain, so that not may be lost.' His omnipotence did not disdain the small things of life; even while revealing His infinite power to the multitude, he taught the pregnant lesson of carefulness of which all stand so much in need. CHAPTER X 237 Economy also means the power of resisting present gratification for th purpose of securing a future good, and in this light it represents the ascendancy of reason over the animal instincts. It is altogether differe from penuriousness: for it is economy that can always best afford to b generous. It does not make money an idol, but regards it as a useful a As Dean Swift observes, "we must carry money in the head, not in the heart." Economy may be styled the daughter of Prudence, the sister o Temperance, and the mother of Liberty. It is evidently conservative--conservative of character, of domestic happiness, and so well-being. It is, in short, the exhibition of self-help in one of its best fo Francis Horner's father gave him this advice on entering life:- "Whilst wish you to be comfortable in every respect, I cannot too strongly incu economy. It is a necessary virtue to all; and however the shallow part mankind may despise it, it certainly leads to independence, which is a grand object to every man of a high spirit." Burns' lines, quoted at the of this chapter, contain the right idea; but unhappily his strain of song higher than his practice; his ideal better than his habit. When laid on death-bed he wrote to a friend, "Alas! Clarke, I begin to feel the worst Burns' 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 disease." Every man ought so to contrive as to live within his means. This pract of the very essence of honesty. For if a man do not manage honestly to within his own means, he must necessarily be living dishonestly upon means of somebody else. Those who are careless about personal expenditure, and consider merely their own gratification, without rega the comfort of others, generally find out the real uses of money when too late. Though by nature generous, these thriftless persons are often driven in the end to do very shabby things. They waste their money as do their time; draw bills upon the future; anticipate their earnings; an thus under the necessity of dragging after them a load of debts and obligations which seriously affect their action as free and independent CHAPTER X 238 It was a maxim of Lord Bacon, that when it was necessary to economi was better to look after petty savings than to descend to petty getting loose cash which many persons throw away uselessly, and worse, wou often form a basis of fortune and independence for life. These wasters their own worst enemies, though generally found amongst the ranks o those who rail at the injustice of "the world." But if a man will not be h own friend, how can he expect that others will? Orderly men of moder means have always something left in their pockets to help others; whe your prodigal and careless fellows who spend all never find an opport for helping anybody. It is poor economy, however, to be a scrub. Narrowmindedness in living and in dealing is generally short-sighted, 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 neighbour Flamborough in one way or another every year, "Flamborou said he, "has been regularly growing in riches, while I have come to poverty and a gaol." And practical life abounds in cases of brilliant res from a course of generous and honest policy. The proverb says that "an empty bag cannot stand upright;" neither ca man who is in debt. 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 ha frame excuses to his creditor for postponing payment of the money he him; and probably also to contrive falsehoods. It is easy enough for a m who will exercise a healthy resolution, to avoid incurring the first obligation; but the facility with which that has been incurred often bec a temptation to a second; and very soon the unfortunate borrower bec so entangled that no late exertion of industry can set him free. The fir in debt is like the first step in falsehood; almost involving the necessit proceeding in the same course, debt following debt, as lie follows lie. Haydon, the painter, dated his decline from the day on which he first borrowed money. He realized the truth of the proverb, "Who goes a-borrowing, goes a-sorrowing." The significant entry in his diary is: " began debt and obligation, out of which I have never been and never s be extricated as long as I live." His Autobiography shows but too painf how embarrassment in money matters produces poignant distress of m CHAPTER X 239 utter incapacity for work, and constantly recurring humiliations. The written advice which he gave to a youth when entering the navy was a follows: "Never purchase any enjoyment if it cannot be procured witho borrowing of others. Never borrow money: it is degrading. I do not sa never lend, but never lend if by lending you render yourself unable to what you owe; but under any circumstances never borrow." Fichte, th student, refused to accept even presents from his still poorer 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 yourself to consider debt only as an inconvenience; you wil 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 by all virtuous means to be avoided. . . . Let it be your first care, then, to be in any man's debt. Resolve not to be poor; whatever you have sp less. Poverty is a great enemy to human happiness; it certainly destroy liberty, and it makes some virtues impracticable and others extremely 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 be we have to spare." It is the bounden duty of every man to look his affairs in the face, and keep an account of his incomings and outgoings in money matters. Th 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 degre below our means, rather than up to them; but this can only be done by carrying out faithfully a plan of living by which both ends may be mad meet. John Locke strongly advised this course: "Nothing," said he, "is likelier to keep a man within compass than having constantly before h eyes the state of his affairs in a regular course of account." The Duke Wellington kept an accurate detailed account of all the moneys receiv and expended by him. "I make a point," said he to Mr. Gleig, "of payin own bills, and I advise every one to do the same; formerly I used to tru confidential servant to pay them, but I was cured of that folly by recei one morning, to my great surprise, duns of a year or two's standing. T fellow had speculated with my money, and left my bills unpaid." Talkin CHAPTER X 240 debt his remark was, "It makes a slave of a man. I have often known w was to be in want of money, but I never got into debt." Washington wa particular as Wellington was, in matters of business detail; and it is a remarkable fact, that he did not disdain to scrutinize the smallest outg of his household-- determined as he was to live honestly within his means--even while holding the high office of President of the American Union. Admiral Jervis, Earl St. Vincent, has told the story of his early struggle and, amongst other things, of his determination to keep out of debt. "M father had a very large family," said he, "with limited means. He gave twenty pounds at starting, and that was all he ever gave me. After I ha been a considerable time at the station [at sea], I drew for twenty mor the bill came back protested. I was mortified at this rebuke, and made 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 living, quitted my mess, lived alone, and took up the ship's allowance, which I found quite sufficient; washed and mended my own clothes; m a pair of trousers out of the ticking of my bed; and having by these me saved as much money as would redeem my honour, I took up my bill, a from that time to this I have taken care to keep within my means." Jer for six years endured pinching privation, but preserved his integrity, s his profession with success, and gradually and steadily rose by merit a bravery to the highest rank. 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 i England is altogether too high. Middle-class people are too apt to live their incomes, if not beyond them: affecting a degree of "style" which most unhealthy in its effects upon society at large. There is an ambitio bring up boys as gentlemen, or rather "genteel" men; though the resu frequently is, only to make them gents. They acquire a taste for dress, luxuries, and amusements, which can never form any solid foundation manly or gentlemanly character; and the result is, that we have a vast number of gingerbread young gentry thrown upon the world, who rem one of the abandoned hulls sometimes picked up at sea, with only a CHAPTER X 241 monkey on board. There is a dreadful ambition abroad for being "genteel." We keep up appearances, too often at the expense of honesty; and, though we may be rich, yet we must seem to be so. We must be "respectable," though in the meanest sense--in mere vulgar outward show. We have not the courage to go patiently onward in the condition of life in which it has pleased God to call us; but must needs live in some fashionable state t which we ridiculously please to call ourselves, and all to gratify the va of that unsubstantial genteel world of which we form a part. There is a constant struggle and pressure for front seats in the social amphithea 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 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 poor; and in the desperate dashes at fortune, in which the pity is not s much for those who fail, as for the hundreds of innocent families who so often involved in their ruin. The late Sir Charles Napier, in taking leave of his command in India, d bold and honest thing in publishing his strong protest, embodied in hi General Order to the officers of the Indian army, against the "fast" life by so many young officers in that service, involving them in ignominio obligations. Sir Charles strongly urged, in that famous document--wha almost been lost sight of that "honesty is inseparable from the charact thorough-bred gentleman;" and that "to drink unpaid-for champagne a unpaid-for beer, and to ride unpaid-for horses, is to be a cheat, and no gentleman." Men who lived beyond their means and were summoned, by their own servants, before Courts of Requests for debts contracted extravagant living, might be officers by virtue of their commissions, bu they were not gentlemen. The habit of being constantly in debt, the Commander- in-chief held, made men grow callous to the proper feelin of a gentleman. It was not enough that an officer should be able to fig that any bull-dog could do. But did he hold his word inviolate?--did he CHAPTER X 242 his debts? These were among the points of honour which, he insisted, illuminated the true gentleman's and soldier's career. As Bayard was o so would Sir Charles Napier have all British officers to be. He knew th to be "without fear," but he would also have them "without reproach." There are, however, many gallant young fellows, both in India and at h capable of mounting a breach on an emergency amidst belching fire, a performing the most desperate deeds of valour, who nevertheless can will not exercise the moral courage necessary to enable them to resist petty temptation presented to their senses. They cannot utter their va "No," or "I can't afford it," to the invitations of pleasure and selfenjoyment; and they are found ready to brave death rather than the ri of their companions. The young man, as he passes through life, advances through a long lin tempters ranged on either side of him; and the inevitable effect of yiel is degradation in a greater or a 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 his only mode of resisti them is to utter and to act out his "no" manfully and resolutely. He mu decide at once, not waiting to deliberate and balance reasons; for the like "the woman who deliberates, is lost." Many deliberate, without deciding; but "not to resolve, IS to resolve." A perfect knowledge of m in the prayer, "Lead us not into temptation." But temptation will come try the young man's strength; and once yielded to, the power to resist weaker and weaker. Yield once, and a portion of virtue has gone. Resi manfully, and the first decision will give strength for life; repeated, it w become a habit. It is in the outworks of the habits formed in early life the real strength of the defence must lie; for it has been wisely ordain 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 t great principles within. It is good habits, which insinuate themselves i the thousand inconsiderable acts of life, that really constitute by far th greater part of man's moral conduct. Hugh Miller has told how, by an act of youthful decision, he saved him from one of the strong temptations so peculiar to a life of toil. When CHAPTER X 243 employed as a mason, it was usual for his fellow- workmen to have an occasional treat of drink, and one day two glasses of whisky fell to his share, which he swallowed. When he reached home, he found, on open his favourite book--'Bacon's Essays'--that the letters danced before his 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 by my own act, for the time, to a lower level of intelligence than that o which it was my privilege to be placed; and though the state could hav been no very favourable one for forming a resolution, I in that hour determined that I should never again sacrifice my capacity of intellect enjoyment to a drinking usage; and, with God's help, I was enabled to 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 his future character. And this rock, on which Hugh Miller might have been wrec if he had not at the right moment put forth his moral strength to strike from it, is one that youth and manhood alike need to be constantly on guard against. It is about one of the worst and most deadly, as well as extravagant, temptations which lie in the way of youth. Sir Walter Sco used to say that "of all vices drinking is the most incompatible with greatness." Not only so, but it is incompatible with economy, decency, health, and honest living. When a youth cannot restrain, he must abst Dr. Johnson's case is the case of many. He said, referring to his own ha "Sir, I can abstain; but I can't be moderate." But to wrestle vigorously and successfully with any vicious habit, we m not merely be satisfied with contending on the low ground of worldly prudence, though that is of use, but take stand upon a higher moral elevation. Mechanical aids, such as pledges, may be of service to some the great thing is to set up a high standard of thinking and acting, and endeavour to strengthen and purify the principles as well as to reform habits. For this purpose a youth must study himself, watch his steps, a 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 always found m valuable which is acquired by resisting small present gratifications to secure a prospective greater and higher one. It is the noblest work in CHAPTER X 244 self-education--for "Real glory Springs from the silent conquest of ourselves, And withou the conqueror is nought But the first slave." Many popular books have been written for the purpose of communica 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. " care of the pennies and the pounds will take care of themselves." "Diligence is the mother of good luck." "No pains no gains." "No swea sweet." "Work and thou shalt have." "The world is his who has patienc and industry." "Better go to bed supperless than rise in debt." Such ar specimens of the proverbial philosophy, embodying the hoarded exper of many generations, as to the best means of thriving in the world. Th were current in people's mouths long before books were invented; and other popular proverbs they were the first codes of popular morals. Moreover they have stood the test of time, and the experience of ever still bears witness to their accuracy, force, and soundness. The prover 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; consider her ways, and b wise." Poverty, says the preacher, shall come upon the idler, "as one th travelleth, and want as an armed man;" but of the industrious and upr "the hand of the diligent maketh rich." "The drunkard and the glutton come to poverty; and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags." "Seest a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings." But above "It is better to get wisdom than gold; for wisdom is better than rubies, all the things that 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 comparatively independent in his means. Eve working man may be so, provided he will carefully husband his resour and watch the little outlets of useless expenditure. A penny is a very s matter, yet the comfort of thousands of families depends upon the pro 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 beersho CHAPTER X 245 some this way and some that--he will find that his life is little raised ab 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 fu others into a savings' bank, and confiding the rest to his wife to be car laid out, with a view to the comfortable maintenance and education of family--he will soon find that this attention to small matters will abund repay him, in increasing means, growing comfort at home, and a mind comparatively free from fears as to the future. And if a working man h high ambition and possess richness in spirit,--a kind of wealth which f transcends all mere worldly possessions--he may not only help himself be a profitable helper of others in his path through life. That this is no impossible thing even for a common labourer in a workshop, may be illustrated by the remarkable career of Thomas Wright of Manchester, not only attempted but succeeded in the reclamation of many crimina while working for weekly wages in a foundry. Accident first directed Thomas Wright's attention to the difficulty encountered by liberated convicts in returning to habits of honest indu His mind was shortly possessed by the subject; and to remedy the evil became the purpose of his life. Though he worked from six in the mor till six at night, still there were leisure minutes that he could call his own--more especially his Sundays-- and these he employed in the serv of convicted criminals; a class then far more neglected than they are n But a few minutes a day, well employed, can effect a great deal; and it scarcely be credited, that in ten years this working man, by steadfastl holding to his purpose, succeeded in rescuing not fewer than three hu felons from continuance in a life of villany! He came to be regarded as moral physician of the Manchester Old Bailey; and where the Chaplain all others failed, Thomas Wright often succeeded. Children he thus res reformed to their parents; sons and daughters otherwise lost, to their and many a returned convict did he contrive to settle down to honest industrious pursuits. The task was by no means easy. It required mone time, energy, prudence, and above all, character, and the confidence w character invariably inspires. The most remarkable circumstance was Wright relieved many of these poor outcasts out of the comparatively wages earned by him at foundry work. He did all this on an income wh CHAPTER X 246 did not average, during his working career, 100l. per annum; and yet, he was able to bestow substantial aid on criminals, to whom he owed more than the service of kindness which every human being owes to another, he also maintained his family in comfort, and was, by frugalit carefulness, enabled to lay by a store of savings against his approachi age. Every week he apportioned his income with deliberate care; so m for the indispensable necessaries of food and clothing, so much for the landlord, so much for the schoolmaster, so much for the poor and need and the lines of distribution were resolutely observed. By such means this humble workman pursue his great work, with the results we have briefly described. Indeed, his career affords one of the most remarkab striking illustrations of the force of purpose in a man, of the might of s means carefully and sedulously applied, and, above all, of the power w an energetic and upright character invariably exercises upon the lives conduct of others. There is no discredit, but honour, in every right walk of industry, whet be in tilling the ground, making tools, weaving fabrics, or selling the products behind a counter. A youth may handle a yard-stick, or measu piece of ribbon; and there will be no discredit in doing so, unless he a his mind to have no higher range than the stick and ribbon; to be as s the one, and as narrow as the other. "Let not those blush who HAVE," 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 n be ashamed, but rather ought to be proud of the difficulties they have surmounted. An American President, when asked what was his coat-of-arms, remembering that he had been a hewer of wood in his yo replied, "A pair of shirt sleeves." A French doctor once taunted Flechi Bishop of Nismes, who had been a tallow- chandler in his youth, with meanness of his origin, to which Flechier replied, "If you had been bor the same condition that I was, you would still have been but a maker o candles." Nothing is more common than energy in money-making, quite indepen of any higher object than its accumulation. A man who devotes himsel CHAPTER X 247 this pursuit, body and soul, can scarcely fail to become rich. Very little brains will do; spend less than you earn; add guinea to guinea; scrape save; and the pile of gold will gradually rise. Osterwald, the Parisian banker, began life a poor man. He was accustomed every evening to d pint of beer for supper at a tavern which he visited, during which he collected and pocketed all the corks that he could lay his hands on. In years he had collected as many corks as sold for eight louis d'ors. With sum he laid the foundations of his fortune-- gained mostly by stock-jobbing; leaving at his death some three millions of francs. John Foster has cited a striking illustration of what this kind of determinati will do in money-making. A young man who ran through his patrimony spending it in profligacy, was at length reduced to utter want and desp He rushed out of his house intending to put an end to his life, and stop on arriving at an eminence overlooking what were once his estates. H down, ruminated for a time, and rose with the determination that he w recover them. He returned to the streets, saw a load of coals which ha shot out of a cart on to the pavement before a house, offered to carry in, and was employed. He thus earned a few pence, requested some m and drink as a gratuity, which was given him, and the pennies were la Pursuing this menial labour, he earned and saved more pennies; accumulated sufficient to enable him to purchase some cattle, the valu which he understood, and these he sold to advantage. He proceeded b degrees to undertake larger transactions, until at length he became ri result was, that he more than recovered his possessions, and died an inveterate miser. When he was buried, mere earth went to earth. With nobler spirit, the same determination might have enabled such a man a benefactor to others as well as to himself. But the life and its end in case were alike sordid. To provide for others and for our own comfort and independence in ol age, is honourable, and greatly to be commended; but to hoard for me wealth's sake is the characteristic of the narrow-souled and the miser against the growth of this habit of inordinate saving that the wise man needs most carefully to guard himself: else, what in youth was simple economy, may in old age grow into avarice, and what was a duty in the case, may become a vice in the other. It is the LOVE of money--not mo CHAPTER X 248 itself-- which is "the root of evil,"--a love which narrows and contracts soul, and closes it against generous life and action. Hence, Sir Walter makes one of his characters declare that "the penny siller slew more s than the naked sword slew bodies." It is one of the defects of business exclusively followed, that it insensibly tends to a mechanism of charac The business man gets into a rut, and often does not look beyond it. If lives for himself only, he becomes apt to regard other human beings o so far as they minister to his ends. Take a leaf from such men's ledger you have their life. Worldly success, measured by the accumulation of money, is no doubt very dazzling thing; and all men are naturally more or less the admire worldly success. But though men of persevering, sharp, dexterous, an unscrupulous habits, ever on the watch to push opportunities, may an "get on" in the world, yet it is quite possible that they may not possess slightest elevation of character, nor a particle of real goodness. He wh recognizes no higher logic than that of the shilling, may become a ver man, and yet remain all the while an exceedingly poor creature. For ri are no proof whatever of moral worth; and their glitter often serves on draw attention to the worthlessness of their possessor, as the light of glowworm reveals the grub. The manner in which many allow themselves to be sacrificed to their l of wealth reminds one of the cupidity of the monkey--that caricature o species. In Algiers, the Kabyle peasant attaches a gourd, well fixed, to tree, 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 b night, inserts his paw, and grasps his booty. He tries to draw it back, b is clenched, and he has not the wisdom to unclench it. So there he sta morning, when he is caught, looking as foolish as may be, though with 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, nor by subscription lists, but by men generally of small pecuniary CHAPTER X 249 means. Christianity was propagated over half the world by men of the poorest class; and the greatest thinkers, discoverers, inventors, and a have been men of moderate wealth, many of them little raised above t condition of manual labourers in point of worldly circumstances. And will always be so. Riches are oftener an impediment than a stimulus to action; and in many cases they are quite as much a misfortune as a bl 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 h hands; he remains morally and spiritually asleep; and his position in s is often no higher than that of a polypus over which the tide floats. "His only labour is to kill the time, And labour dire it is, and weary wo Yet the rich man, inspired by a right spirit, will spurn idleness as unm and if he bethink himself of the responsibilities which attach to the possession of wealth and property he will feel even a higher call to wo than men of humbler lot. This, however, must be admitted to be by no means the practice of life. The golden mean of Agur's perfect prayer i perhaps, the best lot of all, did we but know it: "Give me neither pover nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me." The late Joseph Brotherton, M.P., left a fine motto to be recorded upon his monument Peel Park at Manchester,--the declaration in his case being strictly tru "My richness consisted not in the greatness of my possessions, but in smallness of my wants." He rose from the humblest station, that of a f boy, to an eminent position of usefulness, by the simple exercise of ho honesty, industry, punctuality, and self- denial. Down to the close of hi 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 m appear, to those who knew him in private life, that the glory he sought NOT "to be seen of men," or to excite their praise, but to earn the consciousness of discharging the every-day duties of life, down to the smallest and humblest of them, in an honest, upright, truthful, and lov spirit. CHAPTER X 250 "Respectability," in its best sense, is good. The respectable man is one worthy of regard, literally worth turning to look at. But the respectabi that consists in merely keeping up appearances is not worth looking a any sense. Far better and more respectable is the good poor man than bad rich one--better the humble silent man than the agreeable well-appointed rogue who keeps his gig. A well balanced and well-stor mind, a life full of useful purpose, whatever the position occupied in it be, is of far greater importance than average worldly respectability. T highest object of life we take to be, to form a manly character, and to out the best development possible, of body and spirit-- of mind, consci heart, and soul. This is the end: all else ought to be regarded but as th means. Accordingly, that is not the most successful life in which a man the most pleasure, the most money, the most power or place, honour o fame; but that in which a man gets the most manhood, and performs t greatest amount of useful work and of human duty. Money is power af its sort, it is true; but intelligence, public spirit, and moral virtue, are powers too, and far nobler ones. "Let others plead for pensions," wrot Lord Collingwood to a friend; "I can be rich without money, by endeavouring to be superior to everything poor. I would have my serv to my country unstained by any interested motive; and old Scott {27} can go on in our cabbage-garden without much greater expense than formerly." On another occasion he said, "I have motives for my conduc which I would not give in exchange for a hundred pensions." The making of a fortune may no doubt enable some people to "enter society," as it is called; but to be esteemed there, they must possess qualities of mind, manners, or heart, else they are merely rich people, nothing more. There are men "in society" now, as rich as Croesus, who have no consideration extended towards them, and elicit no respect. F why? They are but as money-bags: their only power is in their till. The of mark in society--the guides and rulers of opinion--the really success and useful men- -are not necessarily rich men; but men of sterling character, of disciplined experience, and of moral excellence. Even the man, like Thomas Wright, though he possess but little of this world's g may, in the enjoyment of a cultivated nature, of opportunities used and abused, of a life spent to the best of his means and ability, look down, CHAPTER XI 251 without the slightest feeling of envy, upon the person of mere worldly success, the man of money- bags and acres. CHAPTER XI --SELF-CULTURE--FACILITIES AND DIFFICULTIES "Every person has two educations, one which he receives from others, one, more important, which he gives to himself."-- Gibbon. "Is there one whom difficulties dishearten--who bends to the storm? H do little. Is there one who will conquer? That kind of man never fails."--John Hunter. "The wise and active conquer difficulties, By daring to attempt them: s and folly Shiver and shrink at sight of toil and danger, And MAKE the impossibility they fear."--Rowe. "The best part of every man's education," said Sir Walter Scott, "is tha which he gives to himself." The late Sir Benjamin Brodie delighted to remember this saying, and he used to congratulate himself on the fact professionally he was self-taught. But this is necessarily the case with men who have acquired distinction in letters, science, or art. The educ received at school or college is but a beginning, and is valuable mainl inasmuch as it trains the mind and habituates it to continuous applica and study. That which is put into us by others is always far less ours th that which we acquire by our own diligent and persevering effort. Knowledge conquered by labour becomes a possession--a property en our own. A greater vividness and permanency of impression is secured facts thus acquired become registered in the mind in a way that mere imparted information can never effect. This kind of self-culture also ca forth power and cultivates strength. The solution of one problem help mastery of another; and thus knowledge is carried into faculty. Our ow active effort is the essential thing; and no facilities, no books, no teach no amount of lessons learnt by rote will enable us to dispense with it. CHAPTER XI 252 The best teachers have been the readiest to recognize the importance self-culture, and of stimulating the student to acquire knowledge by th active exercise of his own faculties. They have relied more upon TRAINING than upon telling, and sought to make their pupils themsel active parties to the work in which they were engaged; thus making teaching something far higher than the mere passive reception of the and details of knowledge. This was the spirit in which the great Dr. Ar worked; he strove to teach his pupils to rely upon themselves, and dev their powers by their own active efforts, himself merely guiding, direc stimulating, and encouraging them. "I would far rather," he said, "sen boy to Van Diemen's Land, where he must work for his bread, than sen 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 observ another occasion, "which is truly admirable, it is to see God's wisdom blessing an inferiority of natural powers, when they have been honest truly, and zealously cultivated." Speaking of a pupil of this character, h said, "I would stand to that man hat in hand." Once at Laleham, when teaching a rather dull boy, Arnold spoke somewhat sharply to him, on which the pupil looked up in his face and said, "Why do you speak ang sir? INDEED, I am doing the best I can." Years afterwards, Arnold use tell the story to his children, and added, "I never felt so much in my life--that look and that speech I have never forgotten." From the numerous instances already cited of men of humble station w have risen to distinction in science and literature, it will be obvious th labour is by no means incompatible with the highest intellectual cultu Work in moderation is healthy, as well as agreeable to the human constitution. Work educates the body, as study educates the mind; and is the best state of society in which there is some work for every man' leisure, and some leisure for every man's work. Even the leisure class in a measure compelled to work, sometimes as a relief from ennui, bu most cases to gratify an instinct which they cannot resist. Some go foxhunting in the English counties, others grouse-shooting on the Sco hills, while many wander away every summer to climb mountains in Switzerland. Hence the boating, running, cricketing, and athletic spor the public schools, in which our young men at the same time so health CHAPTER XI 253 cultivate their strength both of mind and body. It is said that the Duke Wellington, when once looking on at the boys engaged in their sports play-ground at Eton, where he had spent many of his own younger day made the remark, "It was there that the battle of Waterloo was won!" Daniel Malthus urged his son when at college to be most diligent in th cultivation of knowledge, but he also enjoined him to pursue manly sp as the best means of keeping up the full working power of his mind, a as of enjoying the pleasures of intellect. "Every kind of knowledge," sa he, "every acquaintance with nature and art, will amuse and strengthe mind, and I am perfectly pleased that cricket should do the same by y arms and legs; I love to see you excel in exercises of the body, and I th 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." Bu still more important use of active employment is that referred to by th great divine, Jeremy Taylor. "Avoid idleness," he says, "and fill up all th spaces of thy time with severe and useful employment; for lust easily creeps in at those emptinesses where the soul is unemployed and the is at ease; for no easy, healthful, idle person was ever chaste if he cou tempted; but of all employments bodily labour is the most useful, and greatest benefit for driving away the devil." Practical success in life depends more upon physical health than is generally imagined. Hodson, of Hodson's Horse, writing home to a frie 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 continuou working in any calling must necessarily depend in a great measure up this; and hence the necessity for attending to health, even as a means intellectual labour. It is perhaps to the neglect of physical exercise tha find amongst students so frequent a tendency towards discontent, unhappiness, inaction, and reverie,--displaying itself in contempt for r life and disgust at the beaten tracks of men,--a tendency which in Eng has been called Byronism, and in Germany Wertherism. Dr. Channing noted the same growth in America, which led him to make the remark "too many of our young men grow up in a school of despair." The only remedy for this green-sickness in youth is physical exercise--action, w CHAPTER XI 254 and bodily occupation. The use of early labour in self-imposed mechanical employments may illustrated by the boyhood of Sir Isaac Newton. Though a comparative dull scholar, he was very assiduous in the use of his saw, hammer, and hatchet--"knocking and hammering in his lodging room"--making mod of windmills, carriages, and machines of all sorts; and as he grew olde took delight in making little tables and cupboards for his friends. Sme Watt, and Stephenson, were equally handy with tools when mere boys but for such kind of self-culture in their youth, it is doubtful whether t would have accomplished so much in their manhood. Such was also th 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 me belonging to the manual labour class have risen above it, and become purely intellectual labourers, they have found the advantages of their training in their later pursuits. Elihu Burritt says he found hard labour NECESSARY to enable him to study with effect; and more than once h gave up school-teaching and study, and, taking to his leather-apron ag went back to his blacksmith's forge and anvil for his health of body an mind's sake. The training of young men in the use of tools would, at the same time educated them in "common things," teach them the use of their hands arms, familiarize them with healthy work, exercise their faculties upon things tangible and actual, give them some practical acquaintance wit mechanics, impart to them the ability of being useful, and implant in t the habit of persevering physical effort. This is an advantage which th 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 acq manual dexterity and the use of their physical powers. The chief disadvantage attached to the calling of the laborious classes is, not th 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 associat CHAPTER XI 255 labour with servility, have shunned it, and been allowed to grow up practically ignorant, the poorer classes, confining themselves within t circle of their laborious callings, have been allowed to grow up in a la proportion of cases absolutely illiterate. It seems possible, however, to avoid both these evils by combining physical training or physical work intellectual culture: and there are various signs abroad which seem to the gradual adoption of this healthier system of education. The success of even professional men depends in no slight degree on physical health; and a public writer has gone so far as to say that "the greatness of our great men is quite as much a bodily affair as a menta {28} A healthy breathing apparatus is as indispensable to the success lawyer or politician as a well- cultured intellect. The thorough aeration the blood by free exposure to a large breathing surface in the lungs, is necessary to maintain that full vital power on which the vigorous work of the brain in so large a measure depends. The lawyer has to climb th heights of his profession through close and heated courts, and the pol leader has to bear the fatigue and excitement of long and anxious deb a crowded House. Hence the lawyer in full practice and the parliamen leader in full work are called upon to display powers of physical endur and activity even more extraordinary than those of the intellect,--such powers as have been exhibited in so remarkable a degree by Brougha Lyndhurst, and Campbell; by Peel, Graham, and Palmerston--all full-chested men. Though Sir Walter Scott, when at Edinburgh College, went by the nam "The Greek Blockhead," he was, notwithstanding his lameness, a remarkably healthy youth: he could spear a salmon with the best fishe the Tweed, and ride a wild horse with any hunter in Yarrow. When devoting himself in after life to literary pursuits, Sir Walter never lost taste for field sports; but while writing 'Waverley' in the morning, he w in the afternoon course hares. Professor Wilson was a very athlete, as at throwing the hammer as in his flights of eloquence and poetry; and Burns, when a youth, was remarkable chiefly for his leaping, putting, wrestling. Some of our greatest divines were distinguished in their yo for their physical energies. Isaac Barrow, when at the Charterhouse S CHAPTER XI 256 was notorious for his pugilistic encounters, in which he got many a blo nose; Andrew Fuller, when working as a farmer's lad at Soham, was ch 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 subsequen displayed in rolling forth large thoughts in his manhood. While it is necessary, then, in the first place to secure this solid founda of physical health, it must also be observed that the cultivation of the of mental application is quite indispensable for the education of the st The maxim that "Labour conquers all things" holds especially true in t case of the conquest of knowledge. The road into learning is alike free who will give the labour and the study requisite to gather it; nor are th any difficulties so great that the student of resolute purpose may not surmount and overcome them. It was one of the characteristic express of Chatterton, that God had sent his creatures into the world with arm enough to reach anything if they chose to be at the trouble. In study, a business, energy is the great thing. There must be the "fervet opus": w must not only strike the iron while it is hot, but strike it till it is made is astonishing how much 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 p to run to waste. Thus Ferguson learnt astronomy from the heavens, w wrapt in a sheep-skin on the highland hills. Thus Stone learnt mathem while working as a journeyman gardener; thus Drew studied the highe philosophy in the intervals of cobbling shoes; and thus Miller taught himself geology while working as a day labourer in a quarry. Sir Joshua Reynolds, as we have already observed, was so earnest a believer in the force of industry that he held that all men might achiev excellence if they would but exercise the power of assiduous and patie working. He held that drudgery lay on the road to genius, and that the was no limit to the proficiency of an artist except the limit of his own painstaking. He would not believe in what is called inspiration, but on study and labour. "Excellence," he said, "is never granted to man but a reward of labour." "If you have great talents, industry will improve the CHAPTER XI 257 you have but moderate abilities, industry will supply their deficiency. Nothing is denied to well-directed labour; nothing is to be obtained wi it." Sir Fowell Buxton was an equal believer in the power of study; and entertained the modest idea that he could do as well as other men if h devoted to the pursuit double the time and labour that they did. He pl his great confidence in ordinary means and extraordinary application. "I have known several men in my life," says Dr. Ross, "who may be recognized in days to come as men of genius, and they were all plodde hard-working, INTENT men. Genius is known by its works; genius wit works is a blind faith, a dumb oracle. But meritorious works are the re of time and labour, and cannot be accomplished by intention or by a w . . Every great work is the result of vast preparatory training. Facility comes by labour. Nothing seems easy, not even walking, that was not difficul first. The orator whose eye flashes instantaneous fire, and whose lips out a flood of noble thoughts, startling by their unexpectedness, and elevating by their wisdom and truth, has learned his secret by patient repetition, and after many bitter disappointments." {29} Thoroughness and accuracy are two principal points to be aimed at in study. Francis Horner, in laying down rules for the cultivation of his m placed great stress upon the habit of continuous application to one su for the sake of mastering it thoroughly; he confined himself, with this object, to only a few books, and resisted with the greatest firmness "e approach to a habit of desultory reading." The value of knowledge to a man consists not in its quantity, but mainly in the good uses to which h can apply it. Hence a little knowledge, of an exact and perfect charact always found more valuable for practical purposes than any extent of superficial learning. One of Ignatius Loyola's maxims was, "He who does well one work at time, does more than all." By spreading our efforts over too large a su we inevitably weaken our force, hinder our progress, and acquire a ha fitfulness and ineffective working. Lord St. Leonards once communica to Sir Fowell Buxton the mode in which he had conducted his studies, thus explained the secret of his success. "I resolved," said he, "when CHAPTER XI 258 beginning to read law, to make everything I acquired perfectly my own and never to go to a second thing till I had entirely accomplished the fi Many of my competitors read as much in a day as I read in a week; bu the end of twelve months, my knowledge was as fresh as the day it wa acquired, while theirs had glided away from recollection." It is not the quantity of study that one gets through, or the amount of reading, that makes a wise man; but the appositeness of the study to t purpose for which it is pursued; the concentration of the mind for the being on the subject under consideration; and the habitual discipline b which the whole system of mental application is regulated. Abernethy even of opinion that there was a point of saturation in his own mind, a that if he took into it something more than it could hold, it only had th effect of pushing something else out. Speaking of the study of medicin said, "If a man has a clear idea of what he desires to do, he will seldom in selecting the proper means of accomplishing it." The most profitable study is that which is conducted with a definite ai object. By thoroughly mastering any given branch of knowledge we re it more available for use at any moment. Hence it is not enough merel have books, or to know where to read for information as we want it. Practical wisdom, for the purposes of life, must be carried about with and be ready for use at call. It is not sufficient that we have a fund laid home, but not a farthing in the pocket: we must carry about with us a of the current coin of knowledge ready for exchange on all occasions, we are comparatively helpless when the opportunity for using it occur Decision and promptitude are as requisite in self-culture as in busines growth of these qualities may be encouraged by accustoming young p to rely upon their own resources, leaving them to enjoy as much freed action in early life as is practicable. Too much guidance and restraint the formation of habits of self-help. They are like bladders tied under arms of one who has not taught himself to swim. Want of confidence is perhaps a greater obstacle to improvement than is generally imagined has been said that half the failures in life arise from pulling in one's ho while he is leaping. Dr. Johnson was accustomed to attribute his succe CHAPTER XI 259 confidence in his own powers. True modesty is quite compatible with estimate of one's own merits, and does not demand the abnegation of merit. Though there are those who deceive themselves by putting a fa figure before their ciphers, the want of confidence, the want of faith in self, and consequently the want of promptitude in action, is a defect o character which is found to stand very much in the way of individual progress; and the reason why so little is done, is generally because so is attempted. There is usually no want of desire on the part of most persons to arriv the results of self-culture, but there is a great aversion to pay the inev price for it, of hard work. Dr. Johnson held that "impatience of study w 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, b seem to believe very firmly in a "popular" one. In education, we invent labour-saving processes, seek short cuts to science, learn French and "in twelve lessons," or "without a master." We resemble the lady of fas who engaged a master to teach her on condition that he did not plagu with verbs and participles. We get our smattering of science in the sam way; we learn chemistry by listening to a short course of lectures enli by experiments, and when we have inhaled laughing gas, seen green w turned to red, and phosphorus burnt in oxygen, we have got our smatt of which the most that can be said is, that though it may be better tha nothing, it is yet good for nothing. Thus we often imagine we are bein educated while we are only being amused. The facility with which young people are thus induced to acquire knowledge, without study and labour, is not education. It occupies but not enrich the mind. It imparts a stimulus for the time, and produces a of intellectual keenness and cleverness; but, without an implanted pur and a higher object than mere pleasure, it will bring with it no solid advantage. In such cases knowledge produces but a passing impressio sensation, but no more; it is, in fact, the merest epicurism of intelligen sensuous, but certainly not intellectual. Thus the best qualities of man minds, those which are evoked by vigorous effort and independent act sleep a deep sleep, and are often never called to life, except by the rou CHAPTER XI 260 awakening of sudden calamity or suffering, which, in such cases, comes a blessing, if it serves to rouse up a courageous spirit that, but for it, wou have slept on. Accustomed to acquire information under the guise of amusement, yo people will soon reject that which is presented to them under the aspe study and labour. Learning their knowledge and science in sport, they be too apt to make sport of both; while the habit of intellectual dissipa thus engendered, cannot fail, in course of time, to produce a thorough emasculating effect both upon their mind and character. "Multifarious reading," said Robertson of Brighton, "weakens the mind like smoking is an excuse for its lying dormant. It is the idlest of all idlenesses, and leaves more of impotency than any other." The evil is a growing one, and operates in various ways. Its least misc is shallowness; its greatest, the aversion to steady labour which it ind and the low and feeble tone of mind which it encourages. If we would really wise, we must diligently apply ourselves, and confront the same continuous application which our forefathers did; for labour is still, an ever will be, the inevitable price set upon everything which is valuable must be satisfied to work with a purpose, and wait the results with pa All progress, of the best kind, is slow; but to him who works faithfully zealously the reward will, doubtless, be vouchsafed in good time. The of industry, embodied in a man's daily life, will gradually lead him to exercise his powers on objects outside himself, of greater dignity and extended usefulness. And still we must labour on; for the work of selfculture is never finished. "To be employed," said the poet Gray, "is to b happy." "It is better to wear out than rust out," said Bishop Cumberlan "Have we not all eternity to rest in?" exclaimed Arnauld. "Repos ailleu was the motto of Marnix de St. Aldegonde, the energetic and ever-wor friend of William the Silent. It is the use we make of the powers entrusted to us, which constitutes only just claim to respect. He who employs his one talent aright is as m to be honoured as he to whom ten talents have been given. There is re no more personal merit attaching to the possession of superior intelle CHAPTER XI 261 powers than there is in the succession to a large estate. How are thos powers used--how is that estate employed? The mind may accumulate stores of knowledge without any useful purpose; but the knowledge m be allied to goodness and wisdom, and embodied in upright character, it is naught. Pestalozzi even held intellectual training by itself to be pernicious; insisting that the roots of all knowledge must strike and fe the soil of the rightly-governed will. The acquisition of knowledge may is true, protect a man against the meaner felonies of life; but not in an degree against its selfish vices, unless fortified by sound principles an habits. Hence do we find in daily life so many instances of men who ar well- informed in intellect, but utterly deformed in character; filled wi learning of the schools, yet possessing little practical wisdom, and offe examples for warning rather than imitation. An often quoted expressio this day is that "Knowledge is power;" but so also are fanaticism, despotism, and ambition. Knowledge of itself, unless wisely directed, m merely make bad men more dangerous, and the society in which it wa regarded as the highest good, little better than a pandemonium. It is possible that at this day we may even exaggerate the importance literary culture. We are apt to imagine that because we possess many libraries, institutes, and museums, we are making great progress. But facilities may as often be a hindrance as a help to individual self-cultu the highest kind. The possession of a library, or the free use of it, no m constitutes learning, than the possession of wealth constitutes genero Though we undoubtedly possess great facilities it is nevertheless true old, that wisdom and understanding can only become the possession o 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 understandin which are reached through a higher kind of discipline than that of reading,--which is often but a mere passive reception of other men's thoughts; there being little or no active effort of mind in the transactio Then how much of our reading is but the indulgence of a sort of intelle dram- drinking, imparting a grateful excitement for the moment, with the slightest effect in improving and enriching the mind or building up character. Thus many indulge themselves in the conceit that they are CHAPTER XI 262 cultivating their minds, when they are only employed in the humbler occupation of killing time, of which perhaps the best that can be said it keeps them from doing worse things. 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 form Lord Bolingbroke truly said that "Whatever study tends neither direct indirectly to make us better men and citizens, is at best but a specious ingenious sort of idleness, and the knowledge we acquire by it, only a creditable kind of ignorance--nothing more." Useful and instructive though good reading may be, it is yet only one of cultivating the mind; and is much less influential than practical experience and good example in the formation of character. There we 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 a deciphering the literary signs by which principles were denominated u paper, they yet understood and appreciated, and boldly contended for, things themselves. Thus the foundations of English liberty were laid b men, who, though illiterate, were nevertheless of the very highest stam character. And it must be admitted that the chief object of culture is, n merely to fill the mind with other men's thoughts, and to be the passiv recipient of their impressions of things, but to enlarge our individual intelligence, and render us more useful and efficient workers in the sp of life to which we may be called. Many of our most energetic and use workers have been but sparing readers. Brindley and Stephenson did learn to read and write until they reached manhood, and yet they did works and lived manly lives; John Hunter could barely read or write w he was twenty years old, though he could make tables and chairs with carpenter in the trade. "I never read," said the great physiologist whe lecturing 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 becom eminent in your profession." When told that one of his contemporaries CHAPTER XI 263 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 living." It is not then how much a man may know, that is of importance, but th and purpose for which he knows it. The object of knowledge should be mature wisdom and improve character, to render us better, happier, a more useful; more benevolent, more energetic, and more efficient in t pursuit of every high purpose in life. "When people once fall into the h of admiring and encouraging ability as such, without reference to mor character--and religious and political opinions are the concrete form o moral character--they are on the highway to all sorts of degradation." We must ourselves BE and DO, and not rest satisfied merely with read and meditating over what other men have been and done. Our best lig must be made life, and our best thought action. At least we ought to b to say, as Richter did, "I have made as much out of myself as could be made of the stuff, and no man should require more;" for it is every ma duty to discipline and guide himself, with God's help, according to his responsibilities and the faculties with which he has been endowed. Self-discipline and self-control are the beginnings of practical wisdom these must have their root in self-respect. Hope springs from it--hope, which is the companion of power, and the mother of success; for whos hopes strongly has within him the gift of miracles. The humblest may "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 or destroy either my body, mi instincts. On the contrary, I am bound to the best of my power to give those parts of my constitution the highest degree of perfection possib am not only to suppress the evil, but to evoke the good elements in my nature. And as I respect myself, so am I equally bound to respect othe they on their part are bound to respect me." Hence mutual respect, ju 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 inspire CHAPTER XI 264 One of Pythagoras's wisest maxims, in his 'Golden Verses,' is that with which he enjoins the pupil to "reverence himself." Borne up by this hig 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 ro all the virtues--cleanliness, sobriety, chastity, morality, and religion. "T pious and just honouring of ourselves," said Milton, may be thought th radical moisture and fountain-head from whence every laudable and w enterprise issues forth." To think meanly of one's self, is to sink in one own estimation as well as in the estimation of others. And as the thoug are, so will the acts be. Man cannot aspire if he look down; if he will r he must look up. The very humblest may be sustained by the proper indulgence of this feeling. Poverty itself may be lifted and lighted up b self-respect; and it is truly a noble sight to see a poor man hold himse upright amidst his temptations, and refuse to demean himself by low actions. One way in which self-culture may be degraded is by regarding it too exclusively as a means of "getting on." Viewed in this light, it is unquestionable that education is one of the best investments of time a labour. In any line of life, intelligence will enable a man to adapt hims more readily to circumstances, suggest improved methods of working render him more apt, skilled and effective in all respects. He who wor with his head as well as his hands, will come to look at his business w clearer eye; and he will become conscious of increasing power--perha most cheering consciousness the human mind can cherish. The power self-help will gradually grow; and in proportion to a man's self- respec will he be armed against the temptation of low indulgences. Society a action will be regarded with quite a new interest, his sympathies will and enlarge, and he will thus be attracted to work for others as well a himself. Self-culture may not, however, end in eminence, as in the numerous instances above cited. The great majority of men, in all times, howeve enlightened, must necessarily be engaged in the ordinary avocations o industry; and no degree of culture which can be conferred upon the community at large will ever enable them--even were it desirable, whi CHAPTER XI 265 is not--to get rid of the daily work of society, which must be done. But we think, may also be accomplished. We can elevate the condition of labour 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 humbl man may be, the great thinker of this and other days may come in and down with him, and be his companion for the time, though his dwellin the meanest hut. It is thus that the habit of well- directed reading may become a source of the greatest pleasure and self-improvement, and exercise a gentle coercion, with the most beneficial results, over the w tenour of a man's character and conduct. And even though self-culture not bring wealth, it will at all events give one the companionship of elevated thoughts. A nobleman once contemptuously asked of a sage, "What have you got by all your philosophy?" "At least I have got societ myself," was the wise man's reply. But many are apt to feel despondent, and become discouraged in the w of self-culture, because they do not "get on" in the world so fast as the think they deserve to do. Having planted their acorn, they expect to se grow into an oak at once. They have perhaps looked upon knowledge light of a marketable commodity, and are consequently mortified beca does not sell as they expected it would do. Mr. Tremenheere, in one of '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 wa make them better off than they were before," but that having found it "done them no good," they had taken their children from school, and w give themselves no further trouble about education! The same low idea of self-culture is but too prevalent in other classes, 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 getti past others in the world, or of intellectual dissipation and amusement, than as a power to elevate the character and expand the spiritual natu to place it on a very low level. To use the words of Bacon, "Knowledge not a shop for profit or sale, but a rich storehouse for the glory of the CHAPTER XI 266 Creator and the relief of man's estate." It is doubtless most honourabl man to labour to elevate himself, and to better his condition in society this is not to be done at the sacrifice of himself. To make the mind the drudge of the body, is putting it to a very servile use; and to go about whining and bemoaning our pitiful lot because we fail in achieving tha success in life which, after all, depends rather upon habits of industry attention to business details than upon knowledge, is the mark of a sm and often of a sour mind. Such a temper cannot better be reproved th the words of Robert Southey, who thus wrote to a friend who sought h counsel: "I would give you advice if it could be of use; but there is no curing those who choose to be diseased. A good man and a wise man m at times be angry with the world, at times grieved for it; but be sure n was ever discontented with the world if he did his duty in it. If a man o education, who has health, eyes, hands, and leisure, wants an object, only because God Almighty has bestowed all those blessings upon a m who does not deserve them." Another way in which education may be prostituted is by employing it mere means of intellectual dissipation and amusement. Many are the ministers to this taste in our time. There is almost a mania for frivolity excitement, which exhibits itself in many forms in our popular literatu To meet the public taste, our books and periodicals must now be highl spiced, amusing, and comic, not disdaining slang, and illustrative of breaches of all laws, human and divine. Douglas Jerrold once observed this tendency, "I am convinced the world will get tired (at least I hope of this eternal guffaw about all things. After all, life has something ser 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 Histor England, the drollery of Alfred, the fun of Sir Thomas More, the farce his daughter begging the dead head and clasping it in her coffin on he bosom. Surely the world will be sick of this blasphemy." John Sterling, like spirit, said:- "Periodicals and novels are to all in this generation, b more especially to those whose minds are still unformed and in the pr of formation, a new and more effectual substitute for the plagues of E vermin that corrupt the wholesome waters and infest our chambers." CHAPTER XI 267 As a rest from toil and a relaxation from graver pursuits, the perusal o well-written story, by a writer of genius, is a high intellectual pleasure it is a description of literature to which all classes of readers, old and young, are attracted as by a powerful instinct; nor would we have any them debarred from its enjoyment in a reasonable degree. But to mak the exclusive literary diet, as some do,--to devour the garbage with wh the shelves of circulating libraries are filled,--and to occupy the greate portion of the leisure hours in studying the preposterous pictures of h 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 perverted or benumbed. "I never go to hear a tragedy," said man once to the Archbishop of York, "it wears my heart out." The liter pity evoked by fiction leads to no corresponding action; the susceptibi which it excites involve neither inconvenience nor self-sacrifice; so tha heart that is touched too often by the fiction may at length become insensible to the reality. The steel is gradually rubbed out of the chara and it insensibly loses its vital spring. "Drawing fine pictures of virtue one's mind," said Bishop Butler, "is so far from necessarily or certainly conducive to form a HABIT of it in him who thus employs himself, that may even harden the mind in a contrary course, and render it gradual 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 ca 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 hi sodden with pleasure. The best qualities of his mind are impaired; com enjoyments become tasteless; his appetite for the higher kind of pleas vitiated; and when he comes to face the work and the duties of life, th result is usually aversion and disgust. "Fast" men waste and exhaust t powers of life, and dry up the sources of true happiness. Having fores their spring, they can produce no healthy growth of either character o intellect. A child without simplicity, a maiden without innocence, a boy without truthfulness, are not more piteous sights than the man who ha CHAPTER XI 268 wasted and thrown away his youth in self-indulgence. Mirabeau said o himself, "My early years have already in a great measure disinherited succeeding ones, and dissipated a great part of my vital powers." As t wrong done to another to-day returns upon ourselves to- morrow, so t sins of our youth rise up in our age to scourge us. When Lord Bacon s that "strength of nature in youth passeth over many excesses which ar owing a man until he is old," he exposes a physical as well as a moral which cannot be too well weighed in the conduct of life. "I assure you, wrote Giusti the Italian to a friend, "I pay a heavy price for existence. true that our lives are not at our own disposal. Nature pretends to giv gratis at the beginning, and then sends in her account." The worst of youthful indiscretions is, not that they destroy health, so much as that sully manhood. The dissipated youth becomes a tainted man; and ofte cannot be pure, even if he would. If cure there be, it is only to be foun inoculating 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, blase at twenty, his life wa only a prolonged wail, instead of a harvest of the great deeds which h capable of accomplishing with ordinary diligence and self-control. He resolved upon doing so many things, which he never did, that people c to speak of him as Constant the Inconstant. He was a fluent and brillia writer, and cherished the ambition of writing works, "which the world would not willingly let die." But whilst Constant affected the highest thinking, unhappily he practised the lowest living; nor did the transcendentalism of his books atone for the meanness of his life. He frequented the gaming-tables while engaged in preparing his work up religion, and carried on a disreputable intrigue while writing his 'Adol With all his powers of intellect, he was powerless, because he had no in virtue. "Bah!" said he, "what are honour and dignity? The longer I li the more clearly I see there is nothing in them." It was the howl of a miserable man. He described himself as but "ashes and dust." "I pass, he, "like a shadow over the earth, accompanied by misery and ennui." wished for Voltaire's energy, which he would rather have possessed th his genius. But he had no strength of purpose-- nothing but wishes: hi CHAPTER XI 269 prematurely exhausted, had become but a heap of broken links. He sp himself as a person with one foot in the air. He admitted that he had n principles, and no moral consistency. Hence, with his splendid talents contrived to do nothing; and, after living many years miserable, he die worn out and wretched. The career of Augustin Thierry, the author of the 'History of the Norm Conquest,' affords an admirable contrast to that of Constant. His entir presented a striking example of perseverance, diligence, self culture, untiring devotion to knowledge. In the pursuit he lost his eyesight, los health, but never lost his love of truth. When so feeble that he was car from room to room, like a helpless infant, in the arms of a nurse, his b spirit never failed him; and blind and helpless though he was, he conc his literary career in the following noble words:- "If, as I think, the int of science is counted in the number of great national interests, I have my country all that the soldier, mutilated on the field of battle, gives h Whatever may be the fate of my labours, this example, I hope, will not lost. I would wish it to serve to combat the species of moral weakness which is THE DISEASE of our present generation; to bring back into t straight road of life some of those enervated souls that complain of wa faith, that know not what to do, and seek everywhere, without finding object of worship and admiration. Why say, with so much bitterness, th the world, constituted as it is, there is no air for all lungs--no employm for all minds? Is not calm and serious study there? and is not that a re a hope, a field within the reach of all of us? With it, evil days are passe 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 recommence my career; I would choose tha which has brought me where I am. Blind, and suffering without hope, almost without intermission, I may give this testimony, which from me not appear suspicious. There is something in the world better than sen enjoyments, better than fortune, better than health itself- -it is devotio knowledge." Coleridge, in many respects, resembled Constant. He possessed equal brilliant powers, but was similarly infirm of purpose. With all his great CHAPTER XI 270 intellectual gifts, he wanted the gift of industry, and was averse to continuous labour. He wanted also the sense of independence, and tho it no degradation to leave his wife and children to be maintained by th 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 forward beneath him am the din and smoke of London. With remunerative employment at his command he stooped to accept the charity of friends; and, notwithstan his lofty ideas of philosophy, he condescended to humiliations from wh many a day-labourer would have shrunk. How different in spirit was Southey! labouring not merely at work of his own choice, and at taskw often tedious and distasteful, but also unremittingly and with the utmo eagerness seeking and storing knowledge purely for the love of it. Eve day, every hour had its allotted employment: engagements to publishe requiring punctual fulfilment; the current expenses of a large househo duty to provide: for Southey had no crop growing while his pen was id "My ways," he used to say, "are as broad as the king's high-road, and m 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 energy--a little determination!" Nicoll himself was a true and brave sp who died young, but not before he had encountered and overcome gre difficulties in life. At his outset, while carrying on a small business as bookseller, he found himself weighed down with a debt of only twenty pounds, which he said he felt "weighing like a millstone round his nec and that, "if he had it paid he never would borrow again from mortal m Writing to his mother at the time he said, "Fear not for me, dear moth I feel myself daily growing firmer and more hopeful in spirit. The more think and reflect--and thinking, not reading, is now my occupation--I fe that, whether I be growing richer or not, I am growing a wiser man, w is far better. Pain, poverty, and all the other wild beasts of life which s affrighten others, I am so bold as to think I could look in the face with shrinking, without losing respect for myself, faith in man's high destin 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 CHAPTER XI 271 from, as a traveller from a lofty mountain, on storms raging below, wh he is walking in sunshine. That I have yet gained this point in life I wil say, but I feel myself daily nearer to it." It is not ease, but effort--not facility, but difficulty, that makes men. Th is, perhaps, no station in life, in which difficulties have not to be encountered and overcome before any decided measure of success ca achieved. Those difficulties are, however, our best instructors, as our mistakes often form our best experience. Charles James Fox was accustomed to say that he hoped more from a man who failed, and yet on in spite of his failure, than from the buoyant career of the successf is all very well," said he, "to tell me that a young man has distinguishe himself by a brilliant first speech. He may go on, or he may be satisfie with his first triumph; but show me a young man who has NOT succee at first, and nevertheless has gone on, and I will back that young man better than most of those who have succeeded 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 who never made a mistake never made a discovery. It was the failure attempt to make a sucking-pump act, when the working bucket was m than thirty-three feet above the surface of the water to be raised, that observant men to study the law of atmospheric pressure, and opened field of research to the genius of Galileo, Torrecelli, and Boyle. John Hunter used to remark that the art of surgery would not advance unti professional men had the courage to publish their failures as well as t successes. Watt the engineer said, of all things most wanted in mecha engineering was a history of failures: "We want," he said, "a book of b When Sir Humphry Davy was once shown a dexterously manipulated experiment, he said--"I thank God I was not made a dexterous manipu for the most important of my discoveries have been suggested to me b failures." Another distinguished investigator in physical science has le on record that, whenever in the course of his researches he encounter apparently insuperable obstacle, he generally found himself on the br some discovery. The very greatest things-- great thoughts, discoveries inventions--have usually been nurtured in hardship, often pondered ov CHAPTER XI 272 sorrow, and at length established with difficulty. Beethoven said of Rossini, that he had in him the stuff to have made a musician if he had only, when a boy, been well flogged; but that he had been spoilt by the facility with which he produced. Men who feel their strength within them need not fear to encounter adverse opinions; the far greater reason to fear undue praise and too friendly criticism. Whe Mendelssohn was about to enter the orchestra at Birmingham, on the performance of his 'Elijah,' he said laughingly to one of his friends and critics, "Stick your claws into me! Don't tell me what you like, but wha you don't like!" It has been said, and truly, that it is the defeat that tries the general m than the victory. Washington lost more battles than he gained; but he succeeded in the end. The Romans, in their most victorious campaigns almost invariably began with defeats. Moreau used to be compared by companions to a drum, which nobody hears of except it be beaten. Wellington's military genius was perfected by encounter with difficulti apparently the most overwhelming character, but which only served to nerve his resolution, and bring out more prominently his great qualitie man and a general. So the skilful mariner obtains his best experience storms and tempests, which train him to self-reliance, courage, and th highest discipline; and we probably own to rough seas and wintry nigh the best training of our race of British seamen, who are, certainly, not surpassed by any in the world. Necessity may be a hard schoolmistress, but she is generally found th Though the ordeal of adversity is one from which we naturally shrink, when it comes, we must bravely and manfully encounter it. Burns says truly, "Though losses and crosses Be lessons right severe, There's wit there, get there, You'll find no other where." "Sweet indeed are the uses of adversity." They reveal to us our powers call forth our energies. If there be real worth in the character, like sw CHAPTER XI 273 herbs, it will give forth its finest fragrance when pressed. "Crosses," s the old proverb, "are the ladders that lead to heaven." "What is even poverty itself," asks Richter, "that a man should murmur under it? It is as the pain of piercing a maiden's ear, and you hang precious jewels in wound." In the experience of life it is found that the wholesome discip of adversity in strong natures usually carries with it a self-preserving influence. Many are found capable of bravely bearing up under privat and cheerfully encountering obstructions, who are afterwards found u to withstand the more dangerous influences of prosperity. It is only a w man whom the wind deprives of his cloak: a man of average strength i more in danger of losing it when assailed by the beams of a too genial Thus it often needs a higher discipline and a stronger character to bea under good fortune than under adverse. Some generous natures kindl warm with prosperity, but there are many on whom wealth has no suc influence. Base hearts it only hardens, making those who were mean a servile, mean and proud. But while prosperity is apt to harden the hea pride, adversity in a man of resolution will serve to ripen it into fortitu To use the words of Burke, "Difficulty is a severe instructor, set over u the supreme ordinance of a parental guardian and instructor, who kno better than we know ourselves, as He loves us better too. He that wre with us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill: our antagonist thus our helper." Without the necessity of encountering difficulty, life might be easier, but men would be worth less. For trials, wisely impro train the character, and teach self-help; thus hardship itself may often the wholesomest discipline for us, though we recognise it not. When t gallant young Hodson, unjustly removed from his Indian command, fe himself sore pressed down by unmerited calumny and reproach, he ye preserved the courage to say to a friend, "I strive to look the worst bo the face, as I would an enemy in the field, and to do my appointed wor resolutely and to the best of my ability, satisfied that there is a reason all; and that even irksome duties well done bring their own reward, an that, if not, still they ARE duties." The battle of life is, in most cases, fought up-hill; and to win it without struggle were perhaps to win it without honour. If there were no diffic there would be no success; if there were nothing to struggle for, there CHAPTER XI 274 would be nothing to be achieved. Difficulties may intimidate the weak they act only as a wholesome stimulus to men of resolution and valour experience of life indeed serves to prove that the impediments thrown the way of human advancement may for the most part be overcome by steady good conduct, honest zeal, activity, perseverance, and above al determined resolution to surmount difficulties, and stand up manfully against misfortune. The school of Difficulty is the best school of moral discipline, for natio as for individuals. Indeed, the history of difficulty would be but a histo all the great and good things that have yet been accomplished by men hard to say how much northern nations owe to their encounter with a comparatively rude and changeable climate and an originally sterile s which is one of the necessities of their condition,--involving a perennia struggle with difficulties such as the natives of sunnier climes know nothing of. And thus it may be, that though our finest products are exo the skill and industry which have been necessary to rear them, have is in the production of a native growth of men not surpassed on the glob Wherever there is difficulty, the individual man must come out for bet for worse. Encounter with it will train his strength, and discipline his heartening him for future effort, as the racer, by being trained to run a the hill, at length courses with facility. The road to success may be ste climb, and it puts to the proof the energies of him who would reach th summit. But by experience a man soon learns that obstacles are to be overcome by grappling with them,--that the nettle feels as soft as silk it is boldly grasped,--and that the most effective help towards realizing object proposed is the moral conviction that we can and will accompli Thus difficulties often fall away of themselves before the determinatio overcome them. Much will be done if we do but try. Nobody knows what he can do till has 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 noth will be done if he only wishes. The desire must ripen into purpose and effort; and one energetic attempt is worth a thousand aspirations. It is CHAPTER XI 275 thorny "ifs"- -the mutterings of impotence and despair--which so often hedge round the field of possibility, and prevent anything being done o even attempted. "A difficulty," said Lord Lyndhurst, "is a thing to be overcome;" grapple with it at once; facility will come with practice, an strength and fortitude with repeated effort. Thus the mind and charac may be trained to an almost perfect discipline, and enabled to act with grace, spirit, and liberty, almost incomprehensible to those who have n passed through a similar experience. Everything that we learn is the mastery of a difficulty; and the master one helps to the mastery of others. Things which may at first sight app comparatively valueless in education--such as the study of the dead languages, and the relations of lines and surfaces which we call mathematics--are really of the greatest practical value, not so much b of the information which they yield, as because of the development wh they compel. The mastery of these studies evokes effort, and cultivate powers of application, which otherwise might have lain dormant, Thus thing leads to another, and so the work goes on through life-- encount with difficulty ending only when life and culture end. But indulging in feeling of discouragement never helped any one over a difficulty, and will. D'Alembert's advice to the student who complained to him about want of success in mastering the first elements of mathematics was th right one--"Go on, sir, and faith and strength will come to you." The danseuse who turns a pirouette, the violinist who plays a sonata, acquired their dexterity by patient repetition and after many failures. Carissimi, when praised for the ease and grace of his melodies, exclai "Ah! you little know with what difficulty this ease has been acquired." Joshua Reynolds, when once asked how long it had taken him to paint certain picture, replied, "All my life." Henry Clay, the American orator when giving advice to young men, thus described to them the secret o 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 comme and continued for years, the process of daily reading and speaking up contents of some historical or scientific book. These off-hand efforts w made, sometimes in a cornfield, at others in the forest, and not unfreq CHAPTER XI 276 in some distant barn, with the horse and the ox for my auditors. It is t early practice of the art of all arts that I am indebted for the primary a leading impulses that stimulated me onward and have shaped and mo my whole subsequent destiny." Curran, the Irish orator, when a youth, had a strong defect in his articulation, and at school he was known as "stuttering Jack Curran." he was engaged in the study of the law, and still struggling to overcom defect, he was stung into eloquence by the sarcasms of a member of a debating club, who characterised him as "Orator Mum;" for, like Cowp when he stood up to speak on a previous occasion, Curran had not bee able to utter a word. The taunt stung him and he replied in a triumpha speech. This accidental discovery in himself of the gift of eloquence encouraged him to proceed in his studies with renewed energy. He corrected his enunciation by reading aloud, emphatically and distinctl best passages in literature, for several hours every day, studying his fe before a mirror, and adopting a method of gesticulation suited to his r awkward and ungraceful figure. He also proposed cases to himself, wh he argued with as much care as if he had been addressing a jury. Curr began business with the qualification which Lord Eldon stated to be th first requisite for distinction, that is, "to be not worth a shilling." Whil working his way laboriously at the bar, still oppressed by the diffidenc which had overcome him in his debating club, he was on one occasion provoked by the Judge (Robinson) into making a very severe retort. In case under discussion, Curran observed "that he had never met the la laid down by his lordship in any book in his library." "That may be, sir, said the judge, in a contemptuous tone, "but I suspect that YOUR libra very small." His lordship was notoriously a furious political partisan, t author of several anonymous pamphlets characterised by unusual viol and dogmatism. Curran, roused by the allusion to his straitened circumstances, replied thus; "It is very true, my lord, that I am poor, a circumstance has certainly curtailed my library; my books are not numerous, but they are select, and I hope they have been perused wit proper dispositions. I have prepared myself for this high profession by study of a few good works, rather than by the composition of a great m bad ones. I am not ashamed of my poverty; but I should be ashamed o CHAPTER XI 277 wealth, could I have stooped to acquire it by servility and corruption. If I rise not to rank, I shall at least be honest; and should I ever cease to be so many an example shows me that an ill-gained elevation, by making me th more conspicuous, would only make me the more universally and the mo notoriously contemptible." The extremest poverty has been no obstacle in the way of men devote the duty of self-culture. Professor Alexander Murray, the linguist, lear write by scribbling his letters on an old wool-card with the end of a bu heather stem. The only book which his father, who was a poor shepher possessed, was a penny Shorter Catechism; but that, being thought to valuable for common use, was carefully preserved in a cupboard for th Sunday catechisings. Professor Moor, when a young man, being too po purchase Newton's 'Principia,' borrowed the book, and copied the who it with his own hand. Many poor students, while labouring daily for th living, have only been able to snatch an atom of knowledge here and t 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 c to them. A well-known author and publisher, William Chambers, of Edinburgh, speaking before an assemblage of young men in that city, briefly described to them his humble beginnings, for their encouragem "I stand before you," he said, "a self-educated man. My education was which is supplied at the humble parish schools of Scotland; and it was when I went to Edinburgh, a poor boy, that I devoted my evenings, aft labours of the day, to the cultivation of that intellect which the Almigh has given me. From seven or eight in the morning till nine or ten at ni was I at my business as a bookseller's apprentice, and it was only duri hours after these, stolen from sleep, that I could devote myself to stud did not read novels: my attention was devoted to physical science, and other useful matters. I also taught myself French. I look back to those with great pleasure, and am almost sorry I have not to go through the experience again; for I reaped more pleasure when I had not a sixpen my pocket, studying in a garret in Edinburgh, then I now find when si amidst all the elegancies and comforts of a parlour." CHAPTER XI 278 William Cobbett's account of how he learnt English Grammar is full of interest and instruction for all students labouring under difficulties. "I learned grammar," said he, "when I was a private soldier on the pay o sixpence a day. The edge of my berth, or that of my guard-bed, was m to study in; my knapsack was my book-case; a bit of board lying on my was my writing-table; and the task did not demand anything like a yea my life. I had no money to purchase candle or oil; in winter time it wa rarely that I could get any evening light but that of the fire, and only m turn even of that. And if I, under such circumstances, and without par friend to advise or encourage me, accomplished this undertaking, wha excuse can there be for any youth, however poor, however pressed wi business, or however circumstanced as to room or other conveniences buy a pen or a sheet of paper I was compelled to forego some portion food, though in a state of half-starvation: I had no moment of time tha 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 th most thoughtless of men, and that, too, in the hours of their freedom f 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 m was as tall as I am now; I had great health and great exercise. The wh the money, not expended for us at market, was two-pence a week for e man. I remember, and well I may! that on one occasion I, after all nece expenses, had, on a Friday, made shifts to have a halfpenny in reserve which I had destined for the purchase of a redherring in the morning; when I pulled off my clothes at night, so hungry then as to be hardly a endure life, I found that I had lost my halfpenny! I buried my head und the miserable sheet and rug, and cried like a child! And again I say, if, under circumstances like these, could encounter and overcome this ta there, can there be, in the whole world, a youth to find an excuse for t non-performance?" We have been informed of an equally striking instance of perseveranc application in learning on the part of a French political exile in London original occupation was that of a stonemason, at which he found employment for some time; but work becoming slack, he lost his place poverty stared him in the face. In his dilemma he called upon a fellow CHAPTER XI 279 profitably engaged in teaching French, and consulted him what he oug do to earn a living. The answer was, "Become a professor!" "A profess answered the mason--"I, who am only a workman, speaking but a pato Surely you are jesting?" "On the contrary, I am quite serious," said the other, "and again I advise you--become a professor; place yourself und me, and I will undertake to teach you how to teach others." "No, no!" replied the mason, "it is impossible; I am too old to learn; I am too litt a scholar; I cannot be a professor." He went away, and again he tried t obtain employment at his trade. From London he went into the provin and travelled several hundred miles in vain; he could not find a maste Returning to London, he went direct to his former adviser, and said, "I tried everywhere for work, and failed; I will now try to be a professor! immediately placed himself under instruction; and being a man of clos application, of quick apprehension, and vigorous intelligence, he spee mastered the elements of grammar, the rules of construction and composition, and (what he had still in a great measure to learn) the co pronunciation of classical French. When his friend and instructor thou him sufficiently competent to undertake the teaching of others, an appointment, advertised as vacant, was applied for and obtained; and behold our artisan at length become professor! It so happened, that th seminary to which he was appointed was situated in a suburb of Lond where he had formerly worked as a stonemason; and every morning th first thing which met his eyes on looking out of his dressing-room win was a stack of cottage chimneys which he had himself built! He feared time lest he should be recognised in the village as the quondam workm and thus bring discredit on his seminary, which was of high standing. he need have been under no such apprehension, as he proved a most efficient teacher, and his pupils were on more than one occasion publi complimented for their knowledge of French. Meanwhile, he secured respect and friendship of all who knew him--fellow-professors as well pupils; and when the story of his struggles, his difficulties, and his pas history, became known to them, they admired him more than ever. Sir Samuel Romilly was not less indefatigable as a self-cultivator. The son of a jeweller, descended from a French refugee, he received little educat in his early years, but overcame all his disadvantages by unwearied CHAPTER XI 280 application, and by efforts constantly directed towards the same end. determined," he says, in his autobiography, "when I was between fifte and sixteen years of age, to apply myself seriously to learning Latin, o which I, at that time, knew little more than some of the most familiar 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, s as Varro, Columella, and Celsus. I had gone three times through the w of Livy, Sallust, and Tacitus. I had studied the most celebrated oration Cicero, and translated 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; his industry and perseverance ensured success. He became SolicitorGeneral under the Fox administration in 1806, and steadily worked hi to the highest celebrity in his profession. Yet he was always haunted b painful and almost oppressive sense of his own disqualifications, and n ceased labouring to remedy them. His autobiography is a lesson of instructive facts, worth volumes of sentiment, and well deserves a car perusal. Sir Walter Scott was accustomed to cite the case of his young friend Jo Leyden as one of the most remarkable illustrations of the power of perseverance which he had ever known. The son of a shepherd in one wildest valleys of Roxburghshire, he was almost entirely self educated Like many Scotch shepherds' sons-- like Hogg, who taught himself to w by copying the letters of a printed book as he lay watching his flock on hill-side--like Cairns, who from tending sheep on the Lammermoors, r himself by dint of application and industry to the professor's chair wh now so worthily holds--like Murray, Ferguson, and many more, Leyden was early inspired by a thirst for knowledge. When a poor barefooted he walked six or eight miles across the moors daily to learn reading at little village schoolhouse of Kirkton; and this was all the education he received; the rest he acquired for himself. He found his way to Edinbu to attend the college there, setting the extremest penury at defiance. CHAPTER XI 281 first discovered as a frequenter of a small bookseller's shop kept by Archibald Constable, afterwards so well known as a publisher. He wou pass hour after hour perched on a ladder in mid-air, with some great f his hand, forgetful of the scanty meal of bread and water which awaite him at his miserable lodging. Access to books and lectures comprised within the bounds of his wishes. Thus he toiled and battled at the gate science until his unconquerable perseverance carried everything befo Before he had attained his nineteenth year he had astonished all the professors in Edinburgh by his profound knowledge of Greek and Lati and the general mass of information he had acquired. Having turned h views to India, he sought employment in the civil service, but failed. H was however informed that a surgeon's assistant's commission was op him. But he was no surgeon, and knew no more of the profession than child. He could however learn. Then he was told that he must be read pass in six months! Nothing daunted, he set to work, to acquire in six months what usually required three years. At the end of six months he his degree with honour. Scott and a few friends helped to fit him out; a he sailed for India, after publishing his beautiful poem 'The Scenes of Infancy.' In India he promised to become one of the greatest of orienta scholars, but was unhappily cut off by fever caught by exposure, and d at an early age. The life of the late Dr. Lee, Professor of Hebrew at Cambridge, furnish one of the most remarkable instances in modern times of the power of patient perseverance and resolute purpose in working out an honoura career in literature. He received his education at a charity school at L near Shrewsbury, but so little distinguished himself there, that his ma pronounced him one of the dullest boys that ever passed through his h He was put apprentice to a carpenter, and worked at that trade until h arrived at manhood. To occupy his leisure hours he took to reading; an some of the books containing Latin quotations, he became desirous of ascertaining what they meant. He bought a Latin grammar, and proce to learn Latin. As Stone, the Duke of Argyle's gardener, said, long befo "Does one need to know anything more than the twenty-four letters in to learn everything else that one wishes?" Lee rose early and sat up la and he succeeded in mastering the Latin before his apprenticeship wa CHAPTER XI 282 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 desir learn that language. He accordingly sold some of his Latin books, and purchased a Greek Grammar and Lexicon. Taking pleasure in learning soon mastered the language. Then he sold his Greek books, and bough Hebrew ones, and learnt that language, unassisted by any instructor, without any hope of fame or reward, but simply following the bent of h genius. He next proceeded to learn the Chaldee, Syriac, and Samarita 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. H laid them aside for a time and recovered his health, he went on with h 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 the luxury of literature; 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 depend subsistence been destroyed by fire, and destitution stared him in the f He was too poor to buy new tools, so he bethought him of teaching ch their letters,--a profession requiring the least possible capital. But tho had mastered many languages, he was so defective in the common bra of knowledge, that at first he could not teach them. Resolute of purpo however, he assiduously set to work, and taught himself arithmetic an writing to such a degree as to be able to impart the knowledge of thes branches to little children. His unaffected, simple, and beautiful chara gradually attracted friends, and the acquirements of the "learned carp became bruited abroad. Dr. Scott, a neighbouring clergyman, obtained him the appointment of master of a charity school in Shrewsbury, and introduced him to a distinguished Oriental scholar. These friends supp him with books, and Lee successively mastered Arabic, Persic, and Hindostanee. He continued to pursue his studies while on duty as a pr in the local militia of the county; gradually acquiring greater proficien languages. At length his kind patron, Dr. Scott, enabled Lee to enter Queen's College, Cambridge; and after a course of study, in which he distinguished himself by his mathematical acquirements, a vacancy occurring in the professorship of Arabic and Hebrew, he was worthily CHAPTER XI 283 elected to fill the honourable office. Besides ably performing his dutie professor, he voluntarily gave much of his time to the instruction of missionaries going forth to preach the Gospel to eastern tribes in thei tongue. He also made translations of the Bible into several Asiatic dia and having mastered the New Zealand language, he arranged a gram and vocabulary for two New Zealand chiefs who were then in England which books are now in daily use in the New Zealand schools. Such, in brief, is the remarkable history of Dr. Samuel Lee; and it is but the counterpart of numerous similarly instructive examples of the power o perseverance in self-culture, as displayed in the lives of many of the m distinguished of our literary and scientific men. There are many other illustrious names which might be cited to prove 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 was between fifty and sixty years of age. Franklin was fifty before he f entered upon the study of Natural Philosophy. Dryden and Scott were known as authors until each was in his fortieth year. Boccaccio was thirty-five when he commenced his literary career, and Alfieri was fort when he began the study of Greek. Dr. Arnold learnt German at an advanced age, for the purpose of reading Niebuhr in the original; and like manner James Watt, when about forty, while working at his trade instrument maker in Glasgow, learnt French, German, and Italian, to e himself to peruse the valuable works on mechanical philosophy which existed in those languages. Thomas Scott was fifty-six before he began learn Hebrew. Robert Hall was once found lying upon the floor, racked pain, learning Italian in his old age, to enable him to judge of the para drawn by Macaulay between Milton and Dante. Handel was forty-eigh before he published any of his great works. Indeed hundreds of instan might be given of men who struck out an entirely new path, and successfully entered on new studies, at a comparatively advanced tim life. None but the frivolous or the indolent will say, "I am too old to lea {31} CHAPTER XI 284 And here we would repeat what we have said before, that it is not men genius who move the world and take the lead in it, so much as men of steadfastness, purpose, and indefatigable industry. Notwithstanding th many undeniable instances of the precocity of men of genius, it is nevertheless true that early cleverness gives no indication of the heig which the grown man will reach. Precocity is sometimes a symptom of disease rather than of intellectual vigour. What becomes of all the "remarkably clever children?" Where are the duxes and prize boys? Tr them through life, and it will frequently be found that the dull boys, w were beaten at school, have shot ahead of them. The clever boys are rewarded, but the prizes which they gain by their greater quickness a facility do not always prove of use to them. What ought rather to be rewarded is the endeavour, the struggle, and the obedience; for it is th youth who does his best, though endowed with an inferiority of natura powers, that ought above all others to be encouraged. An interesting chapter might be written on the subject of illustrious dunces--dull boys, but brilliant men. We have room, however, for only few instances. Pietro di Cortona, the painter, was thought so stupid th was nicknamed "Ass's Head" when a boy; and Tomaso Guidi was gene known as "Heavy Tom" (Massaccio Tomasaccio), though by diligence h afterwards raised himself to the highest eminence. Newton, when at s stood at the bottom of the lowest form but one. The boy above Newton having kicked him, the dunce showed his pluck by challenging him to fight, and beat him. Then he set to work with a will, and determined a vanquish his antagonist as a scholar, which he did, rising to the top of class. Many of our greatest divines have been anything but precocious Isaac Barrow, when a boy at the Charterhouse School, was notorious chiefly for his strong temper, pugnacious habits, and proverbial idlene a scholar; and he caused such grief to his parents that his father used that, if it pleased God to take from him any of his children, he hoped i might be Isaac, the least promising of them all. Adam Clarke, when a was proclaimed by his father to be "a grievous dunce;" though he coul large stones about. Dean Swift was "plucked" at Dublin University, an only obtained his recommendation to Oxford "speciali gratia." The well-known Dr. Chalmers and Dr. Cook {32} were boys together at the CHAPTER XI 285 parish school of St. Andrew's; and they were found so stupid and mischievous, that the master, irritated beyond measure, dismissed the both as incorrigible dunces. The brilliant Sheridan showed so little capacity as a boy, that he was presented to a tutor by his mother with the complimentary accompani that he was an incorrigible dunce. Walter Scott was all but a dunce wh boy, always much readier for a "bicker," than apt at his lessons. At the Edinburgh University, Professor Dalzell pronounced upon him the sen that "Dunce he was, and dunce he would remain." Chatterton was retu on his mother's hands as "a fool, of whom nothing could be made." Bu was a dull boy, good only at athletic exercises. Goldsmith spoke of him as a plant that flowered late. Alfieri left college no wiser than he enter and did not begin the studies by which he distinguished himself, until had run half over Europe. Robert Clive was a dunce, if not a reprobate when a youth; but always full of energy, even in badness. His family, g 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 we both dull boys, not distinguishing themselves in any way at school. {3 the former the Duchess d'Abrantes says, "he had good health, but was other respects like other boys." Ulysses Grant, the Commander-in-Chief of the United States, was call "Useless Grant" by his mother--he was so dull and unhandy when a bo and Stonewall Jackson, Lee's greatest lieutenant, was, in his youth, ch noted for his slowness. While a pupil at West Point Military Academy h was, however, equally remarkable for his indefatigable application and perseverance. When a task was set him, he never left it until he had mastered it; nor did he ever feign to possess knowledge which he had entirely acquired. "Again and again," wrote one who knew him, "when called upon to answer questions in the recitation of the day, he would 'I have not yet looked at it; I have been engaged in mastering the reci of yesterday or the day before.' The result was that he graduated seventeenth in a class of seventy. There was probably in the whole cla a boy to whom Jackson at the outset was not inferior in knowledge and attainments; but at the end of the race he had only sixteen before him CHAPTER XI 286 had outstripped no fewer than fifty-three. It used to be said of him by his contemporaries, that if the course had been for ten years instead of four, Jackson would have graduated at the head of his class." {34} John Howard, the philanthropist, was another illustrious dunce, learni next to nothing during the seven years that he was at school. Stephen a youth, was distinguished chiefly for his skill at putting and wrestling attention to his work. The brilliant Sir Humphry Davy was no cleverer other boys: his teacher, Dr. Cardew, once said of him, "While he was w me I could not discern the faculties by which he was so much distinguished." Indeed, Davy himself in after life considered it fortuna that he had been left to "enjoy so much idleness" at school. Watt was a scholar, notwithstanding the stories told about his precocity; but he w what was better, patient and perseverant, and it was by such qualities by his carefully cultivated inventiveness, that he was enabled to perfe steam- engine. What Dr. Arnold said of boys is equally true of men--that the difference between one boy and another consists not so much in talent as in ener Given perseverance and energy soon becomes habitual. Provided the has persistency and application he will inevitably head the cleverer fe without those qualities. Slow but sure wins the race. It is perseveranc explains how the position of boys at school is so often reversed in real and it is curious to note how some who were then so clever have since become so commonplace; whilst others, dull boys, of whom nothing w expected, slow in their faculties but sure in their pace, have assumed position of leaders of men. The author of this book, when a boy, stood the same class with one of the greatest of dunces. One teacher after a had tried his skill upon him and failed. Corporal punishment, the fool' coaxing, and earnest entreaty, proved alike fruitless. Sometimes the experiment 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. The youth was given up by his 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 which grew with his muscles and his manhood; and, strange to say, wh CHAPTER XII 287 he at length came to take part in the practical business of life, he was heading most of his school companions, and eventually left the greate number of them far behind. The last time the author heard of him, he chief magistrate of his native town. The tortoise in the right road will beat a racer in the wrong. It matters though a youth be slow, if he be but diligent. Quickness of parts may e prove a defect, inasmuch as the boy who learns readily will often forg readily; and also because he finds no need of cultivating that quality o 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 sa holds true universally. To conclude: the best culture is not obtained from teachers when at sc or college, so much as by our own diligent self-education when we hav become men. Hence parents need not be in too great haste to see thei children's talents forced into bloom. Let them watch and wait patientl letting good example and quiet training do their work, and leave the r Providence. Let them see to it that the youth is provided, by free exerc his bodily powers, with a full stock of physical health; set him fairly on road of self-culture; carefully train his habits of application and perseverance; and as he grows older, if the right stuff be in him, he wi enabled vigorously and effectively to cultivate himself. CHAPTER XII --EXAMPLE--MODELS "Ever their phantoms rise before us, Our loftier brothers, but one in b By bed and table they lord it o'er us, With looks of beauty and words o good."--John Sterling. "Children may be strangled, but Deeds never; they have an indestruct life, both in and out of our consciousness."--George Eliot. CHAPTER XII 288 "There is no action of man in this life, which is not the beginning of so a chain of consequences, as that no human providence is high enough give us a prospect to the end."--Thomas of Malmesbury. Example is one of the most potent of instructors, though it teaches wi a tongue. It is the practical school of mankind, working by action, whi always more forcible than words. Precept may point to us the way, but silent continuous example, conveyed to us by habits, and living with u fact, that carries us along. Good advice has its weight: but without the accompaniment of a good example it is of comparatively small influen and it will be found that the common saying of "Do as I say, not as I do usually reversed in the actual experience of life. All persons are more or less apt to learn through the eye rather than t and, whatever is seen in fact, makes a far deeper impression than any that is merely read or heard. This is especially the case in early youth, the eye is the chief inlet of knowledge. Whatever children see they unconsciously imitate. They insensibly come to resemble those who ar about them--as insects take the colour of the leaves they feed on. Hen vast importance of domestic training. For whatever may be the efficie of schools, the examples set in our Homes must always be of vastly gr influence in forming the characters of our future men and women. The Home is the crystal of society--the nucleus of national character; and f that source, be it pure or tainted, issue the habits, principles and max which govern public as well as private life. The nation comes from the nursery. Public opinion itself is for the most part the outgrowth of the home; and the best philanthropy comes from the fireside. "To love the platoon we belong to in society," says Burke, "is the germ of all public affections." From this little central spot, the human sympathies may e in an ever widening circle, until the world is embraced; for, though tru philanthropy, like charity, begins at home, assuredly it does not end th Example in conduct, therefore, even in apparently trivial matters, is o light moment, inasmuch as it is constantly becoming inwoven with the of others, and contributing to form their natures for better or for wors characters of parents are thus constantly repeated in their children; a CHAPTER XII 289 acts of affection, discipline, industry, and self-control, which they daily exemplify, live and act when all else which may have been learned thr the ear has long been forgotten. Hence a wise man was accustomed to speak of his children as his "future state." Even the mute action and unconscious look of a parent may give a stamp to the character which never effaced; and who can tell how much evil act has been stayed by thought of some good parent, whose memory their children may not s by the commission of an unworthy deed, or the indulgence of an impu thought? The veriest trifles thus become of importance in influencing characters of men. "A kiss from my mother," said West, "made me a painter." It is on the direction of such seeming trifles when children th future happiness and success of men mainly depend. Fowell Buxton, w occupying an eminent and influential station in life, wrote to his moth constantly feel, especially in action and exertion for others, the effects principles early implanted by you in my mind." Buxton was also accustomed to remember with gratitude the obligations which he owe an illiterate man, a gamekeeper, named Abraham Plastow, with whom played, and rode, and sported--a man who could neither read nor writ was full of natural good sense and mother-wit. "What made him particularly valuable," says Buxton, "were his principles of integrity an honour. He never said or did a thing in the absence of my mother of w she would have disapproved. He always held up the highest standard integrity, and filled our youthful minds with sentiments as pure and as generous as could be found in the writings of Seneca or Cicero. Such my first instructor, and, I must add, my best." Lord Langdale, looking back upon the admirable example set him by h mother, declared, "If the whole world were put into one scale, and my mother into the other, the world would kick the beam." Mrs. Schimme Penninck, in her old age, was accustomed to call to mind the personal influence exercised by her mother upon the society amidst which she moved. When she entered a room it had the effect of immediately rais the tone of the conversation, and as if purifying the moral atmosphere seeming to breathe more freely, and stand more erectly. "In her prese says the daughter, "I became for the time transformed into another pe So much does she moral health depend upon the moral atmosphere th CHAPTER XII 290 breathed, and so great is the influence daily exercised by parents over children by living a life before their eyes, that perhaps the best system parental instruction might be summed up in these two words: "Improv thyself." There is something solemn and awful in the thought that there is not a done or a word uttered by a human being but carries with it a train of consequences, the end of which we may never trace. Not one but, to a certain extent, gives a colour to our life, and insensibly influences the of those about us. The good deed or word will live, even though we ma not see it fructify, but so will the bad; and no person is so insignificant be sure that his example will not do good on the one hand, or evil on t other. The spirits of men do not die: they still live and walk abroad am us. It was a fine and a true thought uttered by Mr. Disraeli in the Hous Commons on the death of Richard Cobden, that "he was one of those m who, though not present, were still members of that House, who were independent of dissolutions, of the caprices of constituencies, and eve the course of time." There is, indeed, an essence of immortality in the life of man, even in world. No individual in the universe stands alone; he is a component p a system of mutual dependencies; and by his several acts he either inc or diminishes the sum of human good now and for ever. As the presen rooted in the past, and the lives and examples of our forefathers still t great extent influence us, so are we by our daily acts contributing to f the condition and character of the future. Man is a fruit formed and ri by the culture of all the foregoing centuries; and the living generation continues the magnetic current of action and example destined to bind remotest past with the most distant future. No man's acts die utterly; though his body may resolve into dust and air, his good or his bad dee will still be bringing forth fruit after their kind, and influencing future generations for all time to come. It is in this momentous and solemn fa that the great peril and responsibility of human existence lies. Mr. Babbage has so powerfully expressed this idea in a noble passage one of his writings that we here venture to quote his words: "Every at CHAPTER XII 291 he says, "impressed with good or ill, retains at once the motions which philosophers and sages have imparted to it, mixed and combined in te thousand ways with all that is worthless and base; the air itself is one library, on whose pages are written FOR EVER all that man has ever s or whispered. There, in their immutable but unerring characters, mixe the earliest as well as the latest sighs of mortality, stand for ever reco vows unredeemed, promises unfulfilled; perpetuating, in the united movements of each particle, the testimony of man's changeful will. Bu the air we breathe is the never-failing historian of the sentiments we h uttered, earth, air, and ocean, are, in like manner, the eternal witnesse the acts we have done; the same principle of the equality of action and reaction applies to them. No motion impressed by natural causes, or b human agency, is ever obliterated. . . . If the Almighty stamped on the of the first murderer the indelible and visible mark of his guilt, He has established laws by which every succeeding criminal is not less irrevo chained to the testimony of his crime; for every atom of his mortal fra through whatever changes its severed particles may migrate, will still adhering to it, through every combination, some movement derived fr that very muscular effort by which the crime itself was perpetrated." Thus, every act we do or word we utter, as well as every act we witnes word we hear, carries with it an influence which extends over, and giv colour, not only to the whole of our future life, but makes itself felt up the whole frame of society. We may not, and indeed cannot, possibly, t the influence working itself into action in its various ramifications amo our children, our friends, or associates; yet there it is assuredly, worki for ever. And herein lies the great significance of setting forth a good example,--a silent teaching which even the poorest and least significan person can practise in his daily life. There is no one so humble, but th owes to others this simple but priceless instruction. Even the meanest condition may thus be made useful; for the light set in a low place shin faithfully as that set upon a hill. Everywhere, and under almost all circumstances, however externally adverse--in moorland shielings, in cottage hamlets, in the close alleys of great towns--the true man may He who tills a space of earth scarce bigger than is needed for his grav work as faithfully, and to as good purpose, as the heir to thousands. Th CHAPTER XII 292 commonest workshop may thus be a school of industry, science, and g morals, on the one hand; or of idleness, folly, and depravity, on the oth 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 le of virtue and the severest reproof of vice, while it continues an enduri source of the best kind of riches. Well for those who can say, as Pope d in rejoinder to the sarcasm of Lord Hervey, "I think it enough that my parents, such as they were, never cost me a blush, and that their son, as he is, never cost them a tear." It is not enough to tell others what they are to do, but to exhibit the ac 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 anything DONE, we must go to work and DO: it is of no use merely to talk--none whatever." It is poor eloquence that only shows how a perso can talk. Had Mrs. Chisholm rested satisfied with lecturing, her projec was persuaded, would never have got beyond the region of talk; but w people saw what she was doing and had actually accomplished, they f with her views and came forward to help her. Hence the most benefice worker is not he who says the most eloquent things, or even who think most loftily, but he who does the most eloquent acts. True-hearted persons, even in the humblest station in life, who are en doers, may thus give an impulse to good works out of all proportion, apparently, to their actual station in society. Thomas Wright might hav talked about the reclamation of criminals, and John Pounds about the necessity for Ragged Schools, and yet done nothing; instead of which simply set to work without any other idea in their minds than that of d not talking. And how the example of even the poorest man may tell up society, hear what Dr. Guthrie, the apostle of the Ragged School movement, says of the influence which the example of John Pounds, th humble Portsmouth cobbler, exercised upon his own working career:- CHAPTER XII 293 "The interest I have been led to take in this cause is an example of how Providence, a man's destiny--his course of life, like that of a river--may determined and affected by very trivial circumstances. It is rather curious--at least it is interesting to me to remember--that it was by a p I was first led to take an interest in ragged schools--by a picture in an obscure, decaying burgh that stands on the shores of the Frith of Fort birthplace of Thomas Chalmers. I went to see this place many years ag and, going into an inn for refreshment, I found the room covered with pictures of shepherdesses with their crooks, and sailors in holiday atti particularly interesting. But above the chimney-piece there was a larg print, more respectable than its neighbours, which represented a cobb room. The cobbler was there himself, spectacles on nose, an old shoe between his knees--the massive forehead and firm mouth indicating gr determination of character, and, beneath his bushy eyebrows, benevol gleamed out on a number of poor ragged boys and girls who stood at lessons round the busy cobbler. My curiosity was awakened; and in th inscription I read how this man, John Pounds, a cobbler in Portsmouth taking pity on the multitude of poor ragged children left by ministers magistrates, and ladies and gentlemen, to go to ruin on the streets--ho like a good shepherd, he gathered in these wretched outcasts--how he 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 society not less than five hundred of these children. I felt ashamed of myself. I felt reproved for the little I had done. My feelings were touch was astonished at this man's achievements; and I well remember, in th enthusiasm of the moment, saying to my companion (and I have seen cooler and calmer moments no reason for unsaying the saying)--'That is an honour to humanity, and deserves the tallest monument ever rais within the shores of Britain.' I took up that man's history, and I found animated by the spirit of Him who 'had compassion on the multitude.' Pounds was a clever man besides; and, like Paul, if he could not win a boy any other way, he won him by art. He would be seen chasing a rag boy along the quays, and compelling him to come to school, not by the power of a policeman, but by the power of a hot potato. He knew the l an Irishman had for a potato; and John Pounds might be seen running holding under the boy's nose a potato, like an Irishman, very hot, and CHAPTER XII 294 coat as ragged as himself. When the day comes when honour will be d to whom honour is due, I can fancy the crowd of those whose fame po have sung, and to whose memory monuments have been raised, dividi like the wave, and, passing the great, and the noble, and the mighty o land, this poor, obscure old man stepping forward and receiving the especial notice of Him who said 'Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the le these, ye did it also to Me.'" The education of character is very much a question of models; we mou ourselves so unconsciously after the characters, manners, habits, and opinions of those who are about us. Good rules may do much, but goo models far more; for in the latter we have instruction in action--wisdom work. Good admonition and bad example only build with one hand to p down with the other. Hence the vast importance of exercising great ca the selection of companions, especially in youth. There is a magnetic affinity in young persons which insensibly tends to assimilate them to other's likeness. Mr. Edgeworth was so strongly convinced that from sympathy they involuntarily imitated or caught the tone of the compan they frequented, that he held it to be of the most essential importance they should be taught to select the very best models. "No company, or company," was his motto. Lord Collingwood, writing to a young friend said, "Hold it as a maxim that you had better be alone than in mean company. Let your companions be such as yourself, or superior; for th worth of a man will always be ruled by that of his company." It was a remark of the famous Dr. Sydenham that everybody some time or othe would be the better or the worse for having but spoken to a good or a man. As Sir Peter Lely made it a rule never to look at a bad picture if h could help it, believing that whenever he did so his pencil caught a tai from it, so, whoever chooses to gaze often upon a debased specimen o humanity and to frequent his society, cannot help gradually assimilatin himself to that sort of model. It is therefore advisable for young men to seek the fellowship of the go and always to aim at a higher standard than themselves. Francis Horn speaking of the advantages to himself of direct personal intercourse w high-minded, intelligent men, said, "I cannot hesitate to decide that I h CHAPTER XII 295 derived more intellectual improvement from them than from all the bo have turned over." Lord Shelburne (afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne when a young man, paid a visit to the venerable Malesherbes, and wa much impressed by it, that he said,--"I have travelled much, but I have never been so influenced by personal contact with any man; and if I ev accomplish any good in the course of my life, I am certain that the recollection of M. de Malesherbes will animate my soul." So Fowell Buxton was always ready to acknowledge the powerful influence exerc upon the formation of his character in early life by the example of the Gurney family: "It has given a colour to my life," he used to say. Speak of his success at the Dublin University, he confessed, "I can ascribe it nothing but my Earlham visits." It was from the Gurneys he "caught th infection" of self-improvement. Contact with the good never fails to impart good, and we carry away w us some of the blessing, as travellers' garments retain the odour of th flowers and shrubs through which they have passed. Those who knew late John Sterling intimately, have spoken of the beneficial influence w he exercised on all with whom he came into personal contact. Many o to him their first awakening to a higher being; from him they learnt w they were, and what they ought to be. Mr. Trench says of him:- "It was impossible to come in contact with his noble nature without feeling on self in some measure ENNOBLED and LIFTED UP, as I ever felt when left him, into a higher region of objects and aims than that in which on tempted habitually to dwell." It is thus that the noble character always we become insensibly elevated by him, and cannot help feeling as he d and acquiring the habit of looking at things in the same light. Such is magical action and reaction of minds upon each other. Artists, also, feel themselves elevated by contact with artists greater t themselves. Thus Haydn's genius was first fired by Handel. Hearing h play, Haydn's ardour for musical composition was at once excited, and for this circumstance, he himself believed that he would never have w the 'Creation.' Speaking of Handel, he said, "When he chooses, he stri like the thunderbolt;" and at another time, "There is not a note of him draws blood." Scarlatti was another of Handel's ardent admirers, follo CHAPTER XII 296 him all over Italy; afterwards, when speaking of the great master, he w cross himself in token of admiration. True artists never fail generously recognise each other's greatness. Thus Beethoven's admiration for Cherubini was regal: and he ardently hailed the genius of Schubert: "Truly," said he, "in Schubert dwells a divine fire." When Northcote wa mere youth he had such an admiration for Reynolds that, when the gr painter was once attending a public meeting down in Devonshire, the pushed through the crowd, and got so near Reynolds as to touch the s his coat, "which I did," says Northcote, "with great satisfaction to my mind,"--a true touch of youthful enthusiasm in its admiration of genius The example of the brave is an inspiration to the timid, their presence thrilling through every fibre. Hence the miracles of valour so often performed by ordinary men under the leadership of the heroic. The ve recollection of the deeds of the valiant stirs men's blood like the sound trumpet. Ziska bequeathed his skin to be used as a drum to inspire th valour of the Bohemians. When Scanderbeg, prince of Epirus, was dea the Turks wished to possess his bones, that each might wear a piece n his heart, hoping thus to secure some portion of the courage he had displayed while living, and which they had so often experienced in bat When the gallant Douglas, bearing the heart of Bruce to the Holy Lan saw one of his knights surrounded and sorely pressed by the Saracens took from his neck the silver case containing the hero's bequest, and throwing it amidst the thickest press of his foes, cried, "Pass first in fig thou wert wont to do, and Douglas will follow thee, or die;" and so say he rushed forward to the place where it fell, and was there slain. The chief use of biography consists in the noble models of character in which it abounds. Our great forefathers still live among us in the reco their lives, as well as in the acts they have done, which live also; still s us at table, and hold us by the hand; furnishing examples for our bene which we may still study, admire and imitate. Indeed, whoever has lef behind him the record of a noble life, has bequeathed to posterity an enduring source of good, for it serves as a model for others to form themselves by in all time to come; still breathing fresh life into men, helping them to reproduce his life anew, and to illustrate his characte CHAPTER XII 297 other forms. Hence a book containing the life of a true man is full of precious seed. It is a still living voice; it is an intellect. To use Milton's words, "it is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life." Such a book never ceas exercise an elevating and ennobling influence. But, above all, there is Book containing the very highest Example set before us to shape our l by in this world--the most suitable for all the necessities of our mind a heart--an example which we can only follow afar off and feel after, "Like plants or vines which never saw the sun, But dream of him and g where he may be, And do their best to climb and get to him." Again, no young man can rise from the perusal of such lives as those o Buxton and Arnold, without feeling his mind and heart made better, an best resolves invigorated. Such biographies increase a man's self-relia by demonstrating what men can be, and what they can do; fortifying h hopes and elevating his aims in life. Sometimes a young man discover himself in a biography, as Correggio felt within him the risings of geni on contemplating the works of Michael Angelo: "And I too, am a paint he exclaimed. Sir Samuel Romilly, in his autobiography, confessed him to have been powerfully influenced by the life of the great and noble-minded French Chancellor Daguesseau:- "The works of Thomas says he, "had fallen into my hands, and I had read with admiration his 'Eloge of Daguesseau;' and the career of honour which he represented illustrious magistrate to have run, excited to a great degree my ardou ambition, and opened to my imagination new paths of glory." Franklin was accustomed to attribute his usefulness and eminence to having early read Cotton Mather's 'Essays to do Good'--a book which g out of Mather's own life. And see how good example draws other men it, and propagates itself through future generations in all lands. For S Drew avers that he framed his own life, and especially his business ha after the model left on record by Benjamin Franklin. Thus it is imposs to say where a good example may not reach, or where it will end, if in it have an end. Hence the advantage, in literature as in life, of keeping best society, reading the best books, and wisely admiring and imitatin CHAPTER XII 298 best things we find in them. "In literature," said Lord Dudley, "I am fon confining myself to the best company, which consists chiefly of my old acquaintance, with whom I am desirous of becoming more intimate; a suspect that nine times out of ten it is more profitable, if not more agreeable, to read an old book over again, than to read a new one for first time." Sometimes a book containing a noble exemplar of life, taken up at ran merely with the object of reading it as a pastime, has been known to c forth energies whose existence had not before been suspected. Alfieri first drawn with passion to literature by reading 'Plutarch's Lives.' Loy when a soldier serving at the siege of Pampeluna, and laid up by a dangerous wound in his leg, asked for a book to divert his thoughts: th 'Lives of the Saints' was brought to him, and its perusal so inflamed hi mind, that he determined thenceforth to devote himself to the foundin religious order. Luther, in like manner, was inspired to undertake the g labours of his life by a perusal of the 'Life and Writings of John Huss.' Wolff was stimulated to enter upon his missionary career by reading t 'Life of Francis Xavier;' and the book fired his youthful bosom with a passion the most sincere and ardent to devote himself to the enterpris his life. William Carey, also, got the first idea of entering upon his sub labours as a missionary from a perusal of the Voyages of Captain Cook Francis Horner was accustomed to note in his diary and letters the bo which he was most improved and influenced. Amongst these were Condorcet's 'Eloge of Haller,' Sir Joshua Reynolds' 'Discourses,' the writings of Bacon, and 'Burnet's Account of Sir Matthew Hale.' The pe of the last-mentioned book--the portrait of a prodigy of labour--Horner says, filled him with enthusiasm. Of Condorcet's 'Eloge of Haller,' he s "I never rise from the account of such men without a sort of thrilling palpitation about me, which I know not whether I should call admirati ambition, or despair." And speaking of the 'Discourses' of Sir Joshua Reynolds, he said: "Next to the writings of Bacon, there is no book wh has more powerfully impelled me to self-culture. He is one of the first of genius who has condescended to inform the world of the steps by w greatness is attained. The confidence with which he asserts the CHAPTER XII 299 omnipotence of human labour has the effect of familiarising his reade the idea that genius is an acquisition rather than a gift; whilst with all is blended so naturally and eloquently the most elevated and passiona admiration of excellence, that upon the whole there is no book of a mo INFLAMMATORY effect." It is remarkable that Reynolds himself attributed his first passionate impulse towards the study of art, to rea Richardson's account of a great painter; and Haydon was in like mann afterwards inflamed to follow the same pursuit by reading of the caree Reynolds. Thus the brave and aspiring life of one man lights a flame in minds of others of like faculties and impulse; and where there is equa vigorous efforts like distinction and success will almost surely follow. T the chain of example is carried down through time in an endless succe of links,-- admiration exciting imitation, and perpetuating the true aristocracy of genius. One of the most valuable, and one of the most infectious examples wh can be set before the young, is that of cheerful working. Cheerfulness elasticity to the spirit. Spectres fly before it; difficulties cause no desp for they are encountered with hope, and the mind acquires that happy disposition to improve opportunities which rarely fails of success. The fervent spirit is always a healthy and happy spirit; working cheerfully and stimulating others to work. It confers a dignity on even the most ordinary occupations. The most effective work, also, is usually the full-hearted work--that which passes through the hands or the head of whose heart is glad. Hume was accustomed to say that he would rathe possess a cheerful disposition--inclined always to look at the bright sid things--than with a gloomy mind to be the master of an estate of ten thousand a year. Granville Sharp, amidst his indefatigable labours on of the slave, solaced himself in the evenings by taking part in glees an instrumental concerts at his brother's house, singing, or playing on th the clarionet or the oboe; and, at the Sunday evening oratorios, when Handel was played, he beat the kettle-drums. He also indulged, thoug sparingly, in caricature drawing. Fowell Buxton also was an eminently cheerful man; taking special pleasure in field sports, in riding about th country with his children, and in mixing in all their domestic amuseme CHAPTER XII 300 In another sphere of action, Dr. Arnold was a noble and a cheerful wor throwing himself into the great business of his life, the training and teaching of young men, with his whole heart and soul. It is stated in h admirable biography, that "the most remarkable thing in the Laleham was the wonderful healthiness of tone which prevailed there. It was a where a new comer at once felt that a great and earnest work was goi forward. Every pupil was made to feel that there was a work for him t that his happiness, as well as his duty, lay in doing that work well. Hen an indescribable zest was communicated to a young man's feeling abo life; a strange joy came over him on discerning that he had the means being useful, and thus of being happy; and a deep respect and ardent attachment sprang up towards him who had taught him thus to value and his own self, and his work and mission in the world. All this was founded on the breadth and comprehensiveness of Arnold's character, well as its striking truth and reality; on the unfeigned regard he had f work of all kinds, and the sense he had of its value, both for the compl aggregate of society and the growth and protection of the individual. I this there was no excitement; no predilection for one class of work ab another; no enthusiasm for any one- sided object: but a humble, profo and most religious consciousness that work is the appointed calling of on earth; the end for which his various faculties were given; the eleme which his nature is ordained to develop itself, and in which his progre advance towards heaven is to lie." Among the many valuable men trai for public life and usefulness by Arnold, was the gallant Hodson, of Hodson's Horse, who, writing home from India, many years after, thus spoke of his revered master: "The influence he produced has been mo lasting and striking in its effects. It is felt even in India; I cannot say m than THAT." The useful influence which a right-hearted man of energy and industry exercise amongst his neighbours and dependants, and accomplish for country, cannot, perhaps, be better illustrated than by the career of Si Sinclair; characterized by the Abbe Gregoire as "the most indefatigab man in Europe." He was originally a country laird, born to a considera estate situated near John o' Groat's House, almost beyond the beat of civilization, in a bare wild country fronting the stormy North Sea. His CHAPTER XII 301 father dying while he was a youth of sixteen, the management of the f property thus early devolved upon him; and at eighteen he began a co of vigorous improvement in the county of Caithness, which eventually spread all over Scotland. Agriculture then was in a most backward sta fields were unenclosed, the lands undrained; the small farmers of Cait were so poor that they could scarcely afford to keep a horse or shelty; hard work was chiefly done, and the burdens borne, by the women; an cottier lost a horse it was not unusual for him to marry a wife as the cheapest substitute. The country was without roads or bridges; and dr driving their cattle south had to swim the rivers along with their beas chief track leading into Caithness lay along a high shelf on a mountain the road being some hundred feet of clear perpendicular height above sea which dashed below. Sir John, though a mere youth, determined to make a new road over the hill of Ben Cheilt, the old let-alone proprieto however, regarding his scheme with incredulity and derision. But he himself laid out the road, assembled some twelve hundred workmen e one summer's morning, set them simultaneously to work, superintend their labours, and stimulating them by his presence and example; and before night, what had been a dangerous sheep track, six miles in leng hardly passable for led horses, was made practicable for wheel-carria if by the power of magic. It was an admirable example of energy and well-directed labour, which could not fail to have a most salutary influ upon the surrounding population. He then proceeded to make more ro to erect mills, to build bridges, and to enclose and cultivate the waste He introduced improved methods of culture, and regular rotation of c distributing small premiums to encourage industry; and he thus soon quickened the whole frame of society within reach of his influence, an infused an entirely new spirit into the cultivators of the soil. From bein one of the most inaccessible districts of the north--the very ultima Thu civilization--Caithness became a pattern county for its roads, its agricu and its fisheries. In Sinclair's youth, the post was carried by a runner once a week, and the young baronet then declared that he would neve till a coach drove daily to Thurso. The people of the neighbourhood co not believe in any such thing, and it became a proverb in the county to of an utterly impossible scheme, "Ou, ay, that will come to pass when John sees the daily mail at Thurso!" But Sir John lived to see his dream CHAPTER XII 302 realized, and the daily mail established to Thurso. The circle of his benevolent operation gradually widened. Observing t serious deterioration which had taken place in the quality of British wool,--one of the staple commodities of the country,--he forthwith, tho but a private and little-known country gentleman, devoted himself to i improvement. By his personal exertions he established the British Woo Society for the purpose, and himself led the way to practical improvem by importing 800 sheep from all countries, at his own expense. The re was, the introduction into Scotland of the celebrated Cheviot breed. S farmers scouted the idea of south country flocks being able to thrive i far north. But Sir John persevered; and in a few years there were not than 300,000 Cheviots diffused over the four northern counties alone. value of all grazing land was thus enormously increased; and Scotch estates, which before were comparatively worthless, began to yield la rentals. Returned by Caithness to Parliament, in which he remained for thirty rarely missing a division, his position gave him farther opportunities o usefulness, which he did not neglect to employ. Mr. Pitt, observing his persevering energy in all useful public projects, sent for him to Downi Street, and voluntarily proposed his assistance in any object he might in view. Another man might have thought of himself and his own promotion; but Sir John characteristically replied, that he desired no f for himself, but intimated that the reward most gratifying to his feelin would be Mr. Pitt's assistance in the establishment of a National Board Agriculture. Arthur Young laid a bet with the baronet that his scheme would never be established, adding, "Your Board of Agriculture will be the moon!" But vigorously setting to work, he roused public attention subject, enlisted a majority of Parliament on his side, and eventually established the Board, of which he was appointed President. The resu its action need not be described, but the stimulus which it gave to agriculture and stock-raising was shortly felt throughout the whole Un Kingdom, and tens of thousands of acres were redeemed from barrenn by its operation. He was equally indefatigable in encouraging the establishment of fisheries; and the successful founding of these great CHAPTER XII 303 branches of British industry at Thurso and Wick was mainly due to his exertions. He urged for long years, and at length succeeded in obtaini enclosure of a harbour for the latter place, which is perhaps the great most prosperous fishing town in the world. Sir John threw his personal energy into every work in which he engag rousing the inert, stimulating the idle, encouraging the hopeful, and working with all. When a French invasion was threatened, he offered Pitt to raise a regiment on his own estate, and he was as good as his w He went down to the north, and raised a battalion of 600 men, afterwa increased to 1000; and it was admitted to be one of the finest voluntee regiments ever raised, inspired throughout by his own noble and patri spirit. While commanding officer of the camp at Aberdeen he held the offices of a Director of the Bank of Scotland, Chairman of the British W Society, Provost of Wick, Director of the British Fishery Society, Commissioner for issuing Exchequer Bills, Member of Parliament for Caithness, and President of the Board of Agriculture. Amidst all this multifarious and self-imposed work, he even found time to write books enough of themselves to establish a reputation. When Mr. Rush, the American Ambassador, arrived in England, he relates that he inquired Mr. Coke of Holkham, what was the best work on Agriculture, and wa referred to Sir John Sinclair's; and when he further asked of Mr. Vansi Chancellor of the Exchequer, what was the best work on British Finan he was again referred to a work by Sir John Sinclair, his 'History of th Public Revenue.' But the great monument of his indefatigable industry work that would have appalled other men, but only served to rouse an sustain his energy, was his 'Statistical Account of Scotland,' in twentyvolumes, one of the most valuable practical works ever published in a age or country. Amid a host of other pursuits it occupied him nearly ei years of hard labour, during which he received, and attended to, upwa 20,000 letters on the subject. It was a thoroughly patriotic undertakin from which he derived no personal advantage whatever, beyond the h of having completed it. The whole of the profits were assigned by him the Society for the Sons of the Clergy in Scotland. The publication of t book led to great public improvements; it was followed by the immedi abolition of several oppressive feudal rights, to which it called attentio CHAPTER XII 304 the salaries of schoolmasters and clergymen in many parishes were increased; and an increased stimulus was given to agriculture through Scotland. Sir John then publicly offered to undertake the much greate labour of collecting and publishing a similar Statistical Account of England; but unhappily the then Archbishop of Canterbury refused to sanction it, lest it should interfere with the tithes of the clergy, and th was abandoned. A remarkable illustration of his energetic promptitude was the manne which he once provided, on a great emergency, for the relief of the manufacturing districts. In 1793 the stagnation produced by the war l an unusual number of bankruptcies, and many of the first houses in Manchester and Glasgow were tottering, not so much from want of property, but because the usual sources of trade and credit were for th closed up. A period of intense distress amongst the labouring classes seemed imminent, when Sir John urged, in Parliament, that Excheque notes to the amount of five millions should be issued immediately as a to such merchants as could give security. This suggestion was adopted his offer to carry out his plan, in conjunction with certain members na by him, was also accepted. The vote was passed late at night, and earl morning Sir John, anticipating the delays of officialism and red tape, proceeded to bankers in the city, and borrowed of them, on his own personal security, the sum of 70,000l., which he despatched the same evening to those merchants who were in the most urgent need of assis Pitt meeting Sir John in the House, expressed his great regret that the pressing wants of Manchester and Glasgow could not be supplied so s as was desirable, adding, "The money cannot be raised for some days. is already gone! it left London by to-night's mail!" was Sir John's triumphant reply; and in afterwards relating the anecdote he added, w smile of pleasure, "Pitt was as much startled as if I had stabbed him." the last this great, good man worked on usefully and cheerfully, settin great example for his family and for his country. In so laboriously seek others' good, it might be said that he found his own--not wealth, for hi generosity seriously impaired his private fortune, but happiness, and s satisfaction, and the peace that passes knowledge. A great patriot, wit magnificent powers of work, he nobly did his duty to his country; yet h CHAPTER XIII 305 was not neglectful of his own household and home. His sons and daug grew up to honour and usefulness; and it was one of the proudest thin John could say, when verging on his eightieth year, that he had lived to seven sons grown up, not one of whom had incurred a debt he could n pay, or caused him a sorrow that could have been avoided. CHAPTER XIII --CHARACTER--THE TRUE GENTLEMAN "For who can always act? but he, To whom a thousand memories call, being less but more than all The gentleness he seemed to be, But seemed the thing he was, and joined Each office of the social hour noble manners, as the flower And native growth of noble mind; And thus he bore without abuse The grand old name of Gentleman."--Tennyson. "Es bildet ein Talent sich in der Stille, Sich ein Charakter in dem Strom Welt."--Goethe. "That which raises a country, that which strengthens a country, and th which dignifies a country,--that which spreads her power, creates her influence, and makes her respected and submitted to, bends the heart millions, and bows down the pride of nations to her--the instrument of obedience, the fountain of supremacy, the true throne, crown, and sce of a nation;--this aristocracy is not an aristocracy of blood, not an aristocracy of fashion, not an aristocracy of talent only; it is an aristoc of Character. That is the true heraldry of man."--The Times. The crown and glory of life is Character. It is the noblest possession of man, constituting a rank in itself, and an estate in the general goodwi dignifying every station, and exalting every position in society. It exerc a greater power than wealth, and secures all the honour without the jealousies of fame. It carries with it an influence which always tells; fo CHAPTER XIII 306 the result of proved honour, rectitude, and consistency--qualities whic perhaps more than any other, command the general confidence and re of mankind. Character is human nature in its best form. It is moral order embodied the individual. Men of character are not only the conscience of society in every well-governed State they are its best motive power; for it is m qualities in the main which rule the world. Even in war, Napoleon said moral is to the physical as ten to one. The strength, the industry, and t civilisation of nations--all depend upon individual character; and the v foundations of civil security rest upon it. Laws and institutions are but outgrowth. In the just balance of nature, individuals, nations, and race obtain just so much as they deserve, and no more. And as effect finds cause, so surely does quality of character amongst a people produce i befitting results. Though a man have comparatively little culture, slender abilities, and small wealth, yet, if his character be of sterling worth, he will always command an influence, whether it be in the workshop, the counting-h the mart, or the senate. Canning wisely wrote in 1801, "My road must through Character to power; I will try no other course; and I am sangu enough to believe that this course, though not perhaps the quickest, is surest." You may admire men of intellect; but something more is neces before you will trust them. Hence Lord John Russell once observed in sentence full of truth, "It is the nature of party in England to ask the assistance of men of genius, but to follow the guidance of men of character." This was strikingly illustrated in the career of the late Fran Horner--a man of whom Sydney Smith said that the Ten Commandmen were stamped upon his countenance. "The valuable and peculiar light Lord Cockburn, "in which his history is calculated to inspire every right-minded youth, is this. He died at the age of thirty-eight; possesse greater public influence than any other private man; and admired, bel trusted, and deplored by all, except the heartless or the base. No grea homage was ever paid in Parliament to any deceased member. Now le every young man ask--how was this attained? By rank? He was the son an Edinburgh merchant. By wealth? Neither he, nor any of his relation CHAPTER XIII 307 ever had a superfluous sixpence. By office? He held but one, and only few years, of no influence, and with very little pay. By talents? His wer not splendid, and he had no genius. Cautious and slow, his only ambiti was to be right. By eloquence? He spoke in calm, good taste, without of the oratory that either terrifies or seduces. By any fascination of ma His was only correct and agreeable. By what, then, was it? Merely by sense, industry, good principles, and a good heart-- qualities which no well-constituted mind need ever despair of attaining. It was the force character that raised him; and this character not impressed upon him nature, but formed, out of no peculiarly fine elements, by himself. The were many in the House of Commons of far greater ability and eloque But no one surpassed him in the combination of an adequate portion o these with moral worth. Horner was born to show what moderate pow unaided by anything whatever except culture and goodness, may achi even when these powers are displayed amidst the competition and jea of public life." Franklin, also, attributed his success as a public man, not to his talent his powers of speaking--for these were but moderate--but to his known integrity of character. Hence it was, he says, "that I had so much weig with my fellow citizens. I was but a bad speaker, never eloquent, subje much hesitation in my choice of words, hardly correct in language, an I generally carried my point." Character creates confidence in men in station as well as in humble life. It was said of the first Emperor Alexa of Russia, that his personal character was equivalent to a constitution During the wars of the Fronde, Montaigne was the only man amongst French gentry who kept his castle gates unbarred; and it was said of h that his personal character was a better protection for him than a reg of horse would have been. That character is power, is true in a much higher sense than that know is power. Mind without heart, intelligence without conduct, cleverness without goodness, are powers in their way, but they may be powers on mischief. We may be instructed or amused by them; but it is sometime difficult to admire them as it would be to admire the dexterity of a pickpocket or the horsemanship of a highwayman. CHAPTER XIII 308 Truthfulness, integrity, and goodness--qualities that hang not on any m breath--form the essence of manly character, or, as one of our old writ has it, "that inbred loyalty unto Virtue which can serve her without a livery." He who possesses these qualities, united with strength of purp carries with him a power which is irresistible. He is strong to do good strong to resist evil, and strong to bear up under difficulty and misfort When Stephen of Colonna fell into the hands of his base assailants, an they asked him in derision, "Where is now your fortress?" "Here," was bold reply, placing his hand upon his heart. It is in misfortune that the character of the upright man shines forth with the greatest lustre; and all else fails, he takes stand upon his integrity and his courage. The rules of conduct followed by Lord Erskine--a man of sterling independence of principle and scrupulous adherence to truth--are wor being engraven on every young man's heart. "It was a first command a counsel of my earliest youth," he said, "always to do what my conscien told me to be a duty, and to leave the consequence to God. I shall carr with me the memory, and I trust the practice, of this parental lesson to grave. I have hitherto followed it, and I have no reason to complain th obedience to it has been a temporal sacrifice. I have found it, on the contrary, the road to prosperity and wealth, and I shall point out the s path to my children for their pursuit." Every man is bound to aim at the possession of a good character as on the highest objects of life. The very effort to secure it by worthy mean furnish him with a motive for exertion; and his idea of manhood, in proportion as it is elevated, will steady and animate his motive. It is w have a high standard of life, even though we may not be able altogeth realize it. "The youth," says Mr. Disraeli, "who does not look up will lo down; and the spirit that does not soar is destined perhaps to grovel." George Herbert wisely writes, "Pitch thy behaviour low, thy projects high, So shall thou humble and magnanimous be. Sink not in spirit; who aimeth at the sky Shoots high much than he that means a tree." CHAPTER XIII 309 He who has a high standard of living and thinking will certainly do be than he who has none at all. "Pluck at a gown of gold," says the Scotch proverb, "and you may get a sleeve o't." Whoever tries for the highest results cannot fail to reach a point far in advance of that from which h started; and though the end attained may fall short of that proposed, s the very effort to rise, of itself cannot fail to prove permanently benefi There are many counterfeits of character, but the genuine article is di to be mistaken. Some, knowing its money value, would assume its disg for the purpose of imposing upon the unwary. Colonel Charteris said t man distinguished for his honesty, "I would give a thousand pounds fo your good name." "Why?" "Because I could make ten thousand by it," the knave's reply. Integrity in word and deed is the backbone of character; and loyal adherence to veracity its most prominent characteristic. One of the fin testimonies to the character of the late Sir Robert Peel was that borne Duke of Wellington in the House of Lords, a few days after the great statesman's death. "Your lordships," he said, "must all feel the high an honourable character of the late Sir Robert Peel. I was long connected him in public life. We were both in the councils of our Sovereign toget and I had long the honour to enjoy his private friendship. In all the cou of my acquaintance with him I never knew a man in whose truth and j I had greater confidence, or in whom I saw a more invariable desire to promote the public service. In the whole course of my communication him, I never knew an instance in which he did not show the strongest attachment to truth; and I never saw in the whole course of my life the smallest reason for suspecting that he stated anything which he did n firmly believe to be the fact." And this high-minded truthfulness of the statesman was no doubt the secret of no small part of his influence an power. There is a truthfulness in action as well as in words, which is essentia uprightness of character. A man must really be what he seems or purp to be. When an American gentleman wrote to Granville Sharp, that fro respect for his great virtues he had named one of his sons after him, S CHAPTER XIII 310 replied: "I must request you to teach him a favourite maxim of the fam whose name you have given him--ALWAYS ENDEAVOUR TO BE REALLY WHAT YOU WOULD WISH TO APPEAR. 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 princi feature of his character, both in public and private life." Every man wh respects himself, and values the respect of others, will carry out the m in act-- doing honestly what he proposes to do--putting the highest character into his work, scamping nothing, but priding himself upon h integrity and conscientiousness. Once Cromwell said to Bernard,--a cl but somewhat unscrupulous lawyer, "I understand that you have lately vastly wary in your conduct; do not be too confident of this; subtlety m deceive you, integrity never will." Men whose acts are at direct varian with their words, command no respect, and what they say has but littl weight; even truths, when uttered by them, seem to come blasted from lips. The true character acts rightly, whether in secret or in the sight of me That boy was well trained who, when asked why he did not pocket som pears, for nobody was there to see, replied, "Yes, there was: I was the see myself; and I don't intend ever to see myself do a dishonest thing."--This is a simple but not inappropriate illustration of principle, conscience, dominating in the character, and exercising a noble prote over it; not merely a passive influence, but an active power regulating life. Such a principle goes on moulding the character hourly and daily, growing with a force that operates every moment. Without this domin influence, character has no protection, but is constantly liable to fall a before temptation; and every such temptation succumbed to, every ac meanness or dishonesty, however slight, causes self-degradation. It m not whether the act be successful or not, discovered or concealed; the culprit is no longer the same, but another person; and he is pursued b secret uneasiness, by 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 character may be streng and supported by the cultivation of good habits. Man, it has been said CHAPTER XIII 311 bundle of habits; and habit is second nature. Metastasio entertained s strong an opinion as to the power of repetition in act and thought, tha said, "All is habit in mankind, even virtue itself." Butler, in his 'Analogy impresses the importance of careful self-discipline and firm resistance temptation, as tending to make virtue habitual, so that at length it ma become more easy to be good than to give way to sin. "As habits belon to the body," he says, "are produced by external acts, so habits of the are produced by the execution of inward practical purposes, i.e., carry them into act, or acting upon them--the principles of obedience, verac justice, and charity." And again, Lord Brougham says, when enforcing immense importance of training and example in youth, "I trust everyth 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 upon the deviation from a w course." Thus, make sobriety a habit, and intemperance will be hatefu make prudence a habit, and reckless profligacy will become revolting every principle of conduct which regulates the life of the individual. H the necessity for the greatest care and watchfulness against the inroa any evil habit; for the character is always weakest at that point at whi has once given way; and it is long before a principle restored can beco so firm as one that has never been moved. It is a fine remark of a Russ writer, that "Habits are a necklace of pearls: untie the knot, and the w unthreads." Wherever formed, habit acts involuntarily, and without effort; and, it i only when you oppose it, that you find how powerful it has become. W is done once and again, soon gives facility and proneness. The habit a may seem to have no more strength than a spider's web; but, once for it binds as with a chain of iron. The small events of life, taken singly, m seem exceedingly unimportant, like snow that falls silently, flake by fla yet accumulated, these snow-flakes form the avalanche. Self-respect, self-help, application, industry, integrity--all are of the na of habits, not beliefs. Principles, in fact, are but the names which we a to habits; for the principles are words, but the habits are the things themselves: benefactors or tyrants, according as they are good or evil CHAPTER XIII 312 thus happens that as we grow older, a portion of our free activity and individuality becomes suspended in habit; our actions become of the n of fate; and we are bound by the chains which we have woven around ourselves. It is indeed scarcely possible to over-estimate the importance of traini young to virtuous habits. In them they are the easiest formed, and wh formed they last for life; like letters cut on the bark of a tree they grow widen with age. "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when h old he will not depart from it." The beginning holds within it the end; t first start on the road of life determines the direction and the destinat the journey; ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute. "Remember," said L Collingwood to a young man whom he loved, "before you are five-and-twenty you must establish a character that will serve you all y life." As habit strengthens with age, and character becomes formed, a turning into a new path becomes more and more difficult. Hence, it is harder to unlearn than to learn; and for this reason the Grecian flute-p was justified who charged double fees to those pupils who had been ta by an inferior master. To uproot an old habit is sometimes a more pain thing, and vastly more difficult, than to wrench out a tooth. Try and re a habitually indolent, or improvident, or drunken person, and in a larg majority of cases you will fail. For the habit in each case has wound its in and through the life until it has become an integral part of it, and c be uprooted. Hence, as Mr. Lynch observes, "the wisest habit of all is habit of care in the formation of good habits." Even happiness itself may become habitual. There is a habit of looking the bright side of things, and also of looking at the dark side. Dr. John has said that the habit of looking at the best side of a thing is worth m a man than a thousand pounds a year. And we possess the power, to a extent, of so exercising the will as to direct the thoughts upon objects calculated to yield happiness and improvement rather than their oppo In this way the habit of happy thought may be made to spring up like other habit. And to bring up men or women with a genial nature of thi 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 a CHAPTER XIII 313 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, and honourably performed; daily life being the quarry from which we it up, and rough-hew the habits which form it. One of the most marked of character is the manner in which we conduct ourselves towards oth graceful behaviour towards superiors, inferiors, and equals, is a const source of pleasure. It pleases others because it indicates respect for th personality; but it gives tenfold more pleasure to ourselves. Every man to a large extent be a self-educator in good behaviour, as in everything he can be civil and kind, if he will, though he have not a penny in his p Gentleness in society is like the silent influence of light, which gives c to all nature; it is far more powerful than loudness or force, and far m fruitful. It pushes its way quietly and persistently, like the tiniest daffo spring, which raises the clod and thrusts it aside by the simple persist of growing. Even a kind look will give pleasure and confer happiness. In one of Robertson of Brighton's letters, he tells of a lady who related to him "t delight, the tears of gratitude, which she had witnessed in a poor girl whom, in passing, I gave a kind look on going out of church on Sunday What a lesson! How cheaply happiness can be given! What opportunit we miss of doing an angel's work! I remember doing it, full of sad feel passing on, and thinking no more about it; and it gave an hour's sunsh a human life, and lightened the load of life to a human heart for a time {35} Morals and manners, which give colour to life, are of much greater importance than laws, which are but their manifestations. The law tou us here and there, but manners are about us everywhere, pervading s like the air we breathe. Good manners, as we call them, are neither m nor less than good behaviour; consisting of courtesy and kindness; benevolence being the preponderating element in all kinds of mutuall beneficial and pleasant intercourse amongst human beings. "Civility," Lady Montague, "costs nothing and buys everything." The cheapest of CHAPTER XIII 314 things is kindness, its exercise 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 kind free from affectation and artifice, the results on social good humour a happiness would be incalculable. The little courtesies which form the change of life, may separately appear of little intrinsic value, but they acquire their importance from repetition and accumulation. They are 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 word, or of doing a kind thing, which greatly enhances their value. Wh seems to be done with a grudge, or as an act of condescension, is scar accepted as a favour. Yet there are men who pride themselves upon th gruffness; and though they may possess virtue and capacity, their man often such as to render them almost insupportable. It is difficult to lik man who, though he may not pull your nose, habitually wounds your s respect, and takes a pride in saying disagreeable things to you. There others who are dreadfully condescending, and cannot avoid seizing up every small opportunity of making their greatness felt. When Aberneth was canvassing for the office of surgeon to St. Bartholomew Hospital, called upon such a person--a rich grocer, one of the governors. The gr man behind the counter seeing the great surgeon enter, immediately assumed the grand air towards the supposed suppliant for his vote. "I presume, Sir, you want my vote and interest at this momentous epoch 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 an 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 negociate with other matters of business. Affability and good breeding may even be regard essential to the success of a man in any eminent station and enlarged of life; for the want of it has not unfrequently been found in a great m to neutralise the results of much industry, integrity, and honesty of character. There are, no doubt, a few strong tolerant minds which can CHAPTER XIII 315 with defects and angularities of manner, and look only to the more gen qualities; but the world at large is not so forbearant, and cannot help forming its judgments and likings mainly according to outward condu Another mode of displaying true politeness is consideration for the opinions of others. It has been said of dogmatism, that it is only puppy come to its full growth; and certainly the worst form this quality can assume, is that of opinionativeness and arrogance. Let men agree to d and, when they do differ, bear and forbear. Principles and opinions ma maintained with perfect suavity, without coming to blows or uttering h words; and there are circumstances in which words are blows, and infl wounds far less easy to heal. As bearing upon this point, we quote an instructive little parable spoken some time since by an itinerant preac the Evangelical Alliance on the borders of Wales:- "As I was going to t hills," said he, "early one misty morning, I saw something moving on a mountain side, so strange looking that I took it for a monster. When I nearer to it I found it was a man. When I came up to him I found he w brother." The inbred politeness which springs from right-heartedness and kindl feelings, is of no exclusive rank or station. The mechanic who works a bench may possess it, as well as the clergyman or the peer. It is by no means a necessary condition of labour that it should, in any respect, b either rough or coarse. The politeness and refinement which distingui classes of the people in many continental countries show that those qualities might become ours too--as doubtless they will become with increased culture and more general social intercourse--without sacrifi any of our more genuine qualities as men. From the highest to the low the richest to the poorest, to no rank or condition in life has nature de her highest boon--the great heart. There never yet existed a gentlema was lord of a great heart. And this may exhibit itself under the hodden of the peasant as well as under the laced coat of the noble. Robert Bu was once taken to task by a young Edinburgh blood, with whom he wa walking, for recognising an honest farmer in the open street. "Why yo fantastic gomeral," exclaimed Burns, "it was not the great coat, the sc bonnet, and the saunders-boot hose that I spoke to, but THE MAN tha CHAPTER XIII 316 in them; and the man, sir, for true worth, would weigh down you and m 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 to the right-minded, character will always have its clear insignia. William and Charles Grant were the sons of a farmer in Inverness- shi whom a sudden flood stripped of everything, even to the very soil whic 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 neighbourhood of Bury in Lancashire. From the crown o hill near Walmesley they surveyed the wide extent of country which la before them, the river Irwell making its circuitous course through the valley. They were utter strangers in the neighbourhood, and knew not which way to turn. To decide their course they put up a stick, and agre pursue the direction in which it fell. Thus their decision was made, an journeyed on accordingly until they reached the village of Ramsbotham not far distant. They found employment in a print-work, in which Willi served his apprenticeship; and they commanded themselves to their employers by their diligence, sobriety, and strict integrity. They plodde on, rising from one station to another, until at length the two men themselves became employers, and after many long years of industry, enterprise, and benevolence, they became rich, honoured, and respec all who knew them. Their cotton-mills and print-works gave employme a large population. Their well-directed diligence made the valley teem activity, joy, health, and opulence. Out of their abundant wealth they g liberally to all worthy objects, erecting churches, founding schools, an all ways promoting the well- being of the class of working-men from w 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 broth Grant became widely celebrated for their benevolence and their vario goodness, and it is said that Mr. Dickens had them in his mind's eye w delineating the character of the brothers Cheeryble. One amongst ma anecdotes of a similar kind may be cited to show that the character w no means exaggerated. A Manchester warehouseman published an exceedingly scurrilous pamphlet against the firm of Grant Brothers, h CHAPTER XIII 317 up the elder partner to ridicule as "Billy Button." William was informe some one of the nature of the pamphlet, and his observation was that man would live to repent of it. "Oh!" said the libeller, when informed o remark, "he thinks that some time or other I shall be in his debt; but I take good care of that." It happens, however, that men in business do always foresee who shall be their creditor, and it so turned out that th Grants' libeller became a bankrupt, and could not complete his certific and begin business again without obtaining their signature. It seemed him a hopeless case to call upon that firm for any favour, but the press claims of his family forced him to make the application. He appeared before the man whom he had ridiculed as "Billy Button" accordingly. H told his tale and produced his certificate. "You wrote a pamphlet again once?" said Mr. Grant. The supplicant expected to see his document th into the fire; instead of which Grant signed the name of the firm, and t completed the necessary certificate. "We make it a rule," said he, hand back, "never to refuse signing the certificate of an honest tradesman, we have never heard that you were anything else." The tears started i man's eyes. "Ah," continued Mr. Grant, "you see my saying was true, t 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 rep having tried to injure us." "I do, I do, indeed, repent it." "Well, well, yo know us now. But how do you get on--what are you going to do?" The p man stated that he had friends who would assist him when his certific was obtained. "But how are you off in the mean time?" The answer wa that, having given up every farthing to his creditors, he had been com to stint his family in even the common necessaries of life, that he migh enabled to pay for his certificate. "My good fellow, this will never do; y wife and family must not suffer in this way; be kind enough to take thi ten-pound note to your wife from me: there, there, now--don't cry, it w all well with you yet; keep up your spirits, set to work like a man, and will raise your head among the best of us yet." The overpowered man endeavoured with choking utterance to express his gratitude, but in v and putting his hand to his face, he went out of the room sobbing like child. CHAPTER XIII 318 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 be recognized as a rank and power in all stages of society. "The Gentlema always the Gentleman," said the old French General to his regiment o Scottish gentry at Rousillon, "and invariably proves himself such in ne and in danger." To possess this character is a dignity of itself, comman the instinctive homage of every generous mind, and those who will no to titular rank, will yet do homage to the gentleman. His qualities dep not upon fashion or manners, but upon moral worth--not on personal possessions, but on personal qualities. The Psalmist briefly describes h as one "that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and speak truth in his heart." The gentleman is eminently distinguished for his self-respect. He valu character,--not so much of it only as can be seen of others, but as he s himself; having regard for the approval of his inward monitor. And, as respects himself, so, by the same law, does he respect others. Humani sacred in his eyes: and thence proceed politeness and forbearance, ki and charity. It is related of Lord Edward Fitzgerald that, while travelli Canada, in company with the Indians, he was shocked by the sight of poor squaw trudging along laden with her husband's trappings, while chief himself walked on unencumbered. Lord Edward at once relieved squaw of her pack by placing it upon his own shoulders,--a beautiful instance of what the French call politesse de coeur--the inbred politen the true gentleman. The true gentleman has a keen sense of honour,--scrupulously avoidin mean actions. His standard of probity in word and action is high. He d not shuffle or prevaricate, dodge or skulk; but is honest, upright, and straightforward. His law is rectitude-- action in right lines. When he sa YES, it is a law: and he dares to say the valiant NO at the fitting seaso The gentleman will not be bribed; only the low-minded and unprincipl will sell themselves to those who are interested in buying them. When upright Jonas Hanway officiated as commissioner in the victualling department, he declined to receive a present of any kind from a contr refusing thus to be biassed in the performance of his public duty. A fin CHAPTER XIII 319 trait of the same kind is to be noted in the life of the Duke of Wellingto Shortly after the battle of Assaye, one morning the Prime Minister of t Court of Hyderabad waited upon him for the purpose of privately ascertaining what territory and what advantages had been reserved fo master in the treaty of peace between the Mahratta princes and the N To obtain this information the minister offered the general a very larg sum--considerably above 100,000l. Looking at him quietly for a few seconds, Sir Arthur said, "It appears, then, that you are capable of kee secret?" "Yes, certainly," replied the minister. "THEN SO AM I," said th English general, smiling, and bowed the minister out. It was to Wellin great honour, that though uniformly successful in India, and with the p of earning in such modes as this enormous wealth, he did not add a fa to his fortune, and returned to England a comparatively poor man. A similar sensitiveness and high-mindedness characterised his noble relative, the Marquis of Wellesley, who, on one occasion, positively refused a present of 100,000l. proposed to be given him by the Direct the East India Company on the conquest of Mysore. "It is not necessar said he, "for me to allude to the independence of my character, and th proper dignity attaching to my office; other reasons besides these imp considerations lead me to decline this testimony, which is not suitable me. I THINK OF NOTHING BUT OUR ARMY. I should be much distressed to curtail the share of those brave soldiers." And the Marqu resolution to refuse the present remained unalterable. Sir Charles Napier exhibited the same noble self-denial in the course o Indian career. He rejected all the costly gifts which barbaric princes w ready to lay at his feet, and said with truth, "Certainly I could have go 30,000l. since my coming to Scinde, but my hands do not want washin yet. Our dear father's sword which I wore in both battles (Meanee and Hyderabad) is unstained." Riches and rank have no necessary connexion with genuine gentleman qualities. The poor man may be a true gentleman,--in spirit and in dail He may be honest, truthful, upright, polite, temperate, courageous, self-respecting, and self-helping,-- that is, be a true gentleman. The po CHAPTER XIII 320 man with a rich spirit is in all ways superior to the rich man with a po spirit. To borrow St. Paul's words, the former is as "having nothing, ye possessing all things," while the other, though possessing all things, h nothing. The first hopes everything, and fears nothing; the last hopes nothing, and fears everything. Only the poor in spirit are really poor. H who has lost all, but retains his courage, cheerfulness, hope, virtue, an self-respect, is still rich. For such a man, the world is, as it were, held trust; his spirit dominating over its grosser cares, he can still walk ere true gentleman. Occasionally, the brave and gentle character may be found under the humblest garb. Here is an old illustration, but a fine one. Once on a tim when the Adige suddenly overflowed its banks, the bridge of Verona w carried away, with the exception of the centre arch, on which stood a whose inhabitants supplicated help from the windows, while the foundations were visibly giving way. "I will give a hundred French loui said the Count Spolverini, who stood by, "to any person who will ventu deliver these unfortunate people." A young peasant came forth from th crowd, seized a boat, and pushed into the stream. He gained the pier, received the whole family into the boat, and made for the shore, wher landed them in safety. "Here is your money, my brave young fellow," sa the count. "No," was the answer of the young man, "I do not sell my li give the money to this poor family, who have need of it." Here spoke th true spirit of the gentleman, though he was but in the garb of a peasa Not less touching was the heroic conduct of a party of Deal boatmen i rescuing the crew of a collier-brig in the Downs but a short time ago. A sudden storm which set in from the north-east drove several ships f their anchors, and it being low water, one of them struck the ground a considerable distance from the shore, when the sea made a clean brea over her. There was not a vestige of hope for the vessel, such was the of the wind and the violence of the waves. There was nothing to tempt boatmen on shore to risk their lives in saving either ship or crew, for n farthing of salvage was to be looked for. But the daring intrepidity of t Deal boatmen was not wanting at this critical moment. No sooner had brig grounded than Simon Pritchard, one of the many persons assemb CHAPTER XIII 321 along the beach, threw off his coat and called out, "Who will come wit and try to save that crew?" Instantly twenty men sprang forward, with will," "and I." But seven only were wanted; and running down a galley into the surf, they leaped in and dashed through the breakers, amidst cheers of those on shore. How the boat lived in such a sea seemed a miracle; but in a few minutes, impelled by the strong arms of these ga men, she flew on and reached the stranded ship, "catching her on the a wave"; and in less than a quarter of an hour from the time the boat l shore, the six men who composed the crew of the collier were landed on Walmer Beach. A nobler instance of indomitable courage and disinterested heroism on the part of the Deal boatmen--brave though t are always known to be--perhaps cannot be cited; and we have pleasu here placing it on record. Mr. Turnbull, in his work on 'Austria,' relates an anecdote of the late Emperor Francis, in illustration of the manner in which the Governme that country has been indebted, for its hold upon the people, to the pe qualities of its princes. "At the time when the cholera was raging at Vi the emperor, with an aide- de-camp, was strolling about the streets of city and suburbs, when a corpse was dragged past on a litter unaccompanied by a single mourner. The unusual circumstance attrac his attention, and he learnt, on inquiry, that the deceased was a poor p who had died of cholera, and that the relatives had not ventured on w was then considered the very dangerous office of attending the body t grave. 'Then,' said Francis, 'we will supply their place, for none of my people should go to the grave without that last mark of respect;' and h followed the body to the distant place of interment, and, bare-headed, to see every rite and observance respectfully performed." Fine though this illustration may be of the qualities of the gentleman, can match it by another equally good, of two English navvies in Paris, related in a morning paper a few years ago. "One day a hearse was observed ascending the steep Rue de Clichy on its way to Montmartre bearing a coffin of poplar wood with its cold corpse. Not a soul followed--not even the living dog of the dead man, if he had one. The d was rainy and dismal; passers by lifted the hat as is usual when a fune CHAPTER XIII 322 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 spo from beneath their serge jackets. 'Poor wretch!' said the one to the ot one follows him; let us two follow!' And the two took off their hats, and walked bare-headed after the corpse of a stranger to the cemetery of Montmartre." Above all, the gentleman is truthful. He feels that truth is the "summit being," and the soul of rectitude in human affairs. Lord Chesterfield declared that Truth made the success of a gentleman. The Duke of Wellington, writing to Kellerman, on the subject of prisoners on parole when opposed to that general in the peninsula, told him that if there w one thing on which an English officer prided himself more than anothe excepting his courage, it was his truthfulness. "When English officers, he, "have given their parole of honour not to escape, be sure they will break it. Believe me--trust to their word; the word of an English office surer guarantee than the vigilance of sentinels." True courage and gentleness go hand in hand. The brave man is gene and forbearant, never unforgiving and cruel. It was finely said of Sir Jo Franklin by his friend Parry, that "he was a man who never turned his 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 spi Bayard--was displayed by a French officer in the cavalry combat of El Bodon in Spain. He had raised his sword to strike Sir Felton Harvey, b perceiving his antagonist had only one arm, he instantly stopped, brou down his sword before Sir Felton in the usual salute, and rode past. To may be added a noble and gentle deed of Ney during the same Penins War. Charles Napier was taken prisoner at Corunna, desperately woun and his friends at home did not know whether he was alive or dead. A special messenger was sent out from England with a frigate to ascerta fate. Baron Clouet received the flag, and informed Ney of the arrival. the prisoner see his friends," said Ney, "and tell them he is well, and w treated." Clouet lingered, and Ney asked, smiling, "what more he wan "He has an old mother, a widow, and blind." "Has he? then let him go himself and tell her he is alive." As the exchange of prisoners between CHAPTER XIII 323 countries was not then allowed, Ney knew that he risked the displeasure the Emperor by setting the young officer at liberty; but Napoleon approv the generous act. Notwithstanding the wail which we occasionally hear for the chivalry is gone, our own age has witnessed deeds of bravery and gentleness-heroic self-denial and manly tenderness--which are unsurpassed in his The events of the last few years have shown that our countrymen are an undegenerate race. On the bleak plateau of Sebastopol, in the drip perilous trenches of that twelvemonth's leaguer, men of all classes pro themselves worthy of the noble inheritance of character which their forefathers have bequeathed to them. But it was in the hour of the gre in India that the qualities of our countrymen shone forth the brightest march of Neill on Cawnpore, of Havelock on Lucknow--officers and me alike urged on by the hope of rescuing the women and the children--a events which the whole history of chivalry cannot equal. Outram's con to Havelock, in resigning to him, though his inferior officer, the honou leading the attack on Lucknow, was a trait worthy of Sydney, and alon justifies the title which has been awarded to him of, "the Bayard of Ind The death of Henry Lawrence--that brave and gentle spirit--his last wo before dying, "Let there be no fuss about me; let me be buried WITH T MEN,"--the anxious solicitude of Sir Colin Campbell to rescue the beleaguered of Lucknow, and to conduct his long train of women and children by night from thence to Cawnpore, which he reached amidst but overpowering assault of the enemy,--the care with which he led th across the perilous bridge, never ceasing his charge over them until h seen the precious convoy safe on the road to Allahabad, and then burs upon the Gwalior contingent like a thunder-clap;--such things make us proud of our countrymen and inspire the conviction that the best and glow of chivalry is not dead, but vigorously lives among us yet. Even the common soldiers proved themselves gentlemen under their t At Agra, where so many poor fellows had been scorched and wounded their encounter with the enemy, they were brought into the fort, and tenderly nursed by the ladies; and the rough, gallant fellows proved g as any children. During the weeks that the ladies watched over their c CHAPTER XIII 324 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 the sick and maimed who survived 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 flowe music, the rough veterans, all scarred and mutilated as they were, sto to thank their gentle countrywomen who had clothed and fed them, an ministered to their wants during their time of sore distress. In the hos at Scutari, too, many wounded and sick blessed the kind English ladie nursed them; and nothing can be finer than the thought of the poor sufferers, unable to rest through pain, blessing the shadow of Florenc Nightingale as it fell upon their pillow in the night watches. The wreck of the Birkenhead off the coast of Africa on the 27th of February, 1852, affords another memorable illustration of the chivalro spirit of common men acting in this nineteenth century, of which any a might be proud. The vessel was steaming along the African coast with men and 166 women and children on board. The men belonged to sev regiments then serving at the Cape, and consisted principally of recru 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 up hidden rock which penetrated her bottom; and it was at once felt that 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 pas SAVE THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN; and the helpless creatures were brought from below, mostly undressed, and handed silently into the bo 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 BOATS WITH THE WOMEN MUST BE SWAMPED;" and the brave men stood motionless. There was no boat remaining, and no hope of safety; but not a heart quailed; no one flinc from his duty in that trying moment. "There was not a murmur nor a c amongst them," said Captain Wright, a survivor, "until the vessel made final plunge." Down went the ship, and down went the heroic band, fir feu de joie as they sank beneath the waves. Glory and honour to the g CHAPTER XIII 325 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 that never fails--How does he EXERCISE POWER over those subordin to him? How does he conduct himself towards women and children? H does the officer treat his men, the employer his servants, the master h pupils, and man in every station those who are weaker than himself? T discretion, forbearance, and kindliness, with which power in such cas used, may indeed be regarded as the crucial test of gentlemanly chara When La Motte was one day passing through a crowd, he accidentally upon the foot of a young fellow, who forthwith struck him on the face: sire," said La Motte, "you will surely be sorry for what you have done, when you know that I AM BLIND." He who bullies those who are not i position 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 m The tyrant, it has been said, is but a slave turned inside out. Strength, the consciousness of strength, in a right-hearted man, imparts a noble to his character; but he will be most careful how he uses it; for "It is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous To use it giant." Gentleness is indeed the best test of gentlemanliness. A consideration the feelings of others, for his inferiors and dependants as well as his e and respect for their self- respect, will pervade the true gentleman's w conduct. He will rather himself suffer a small injury, than by an uncharitable construction of another's behaviour, incur the risk of committing a great wrong. He will be forbearant of the weaknesses, th failings, and the errors, of those whose advantages in life have not bee equal to his own. He will be merciful even to his beast. He will not boa his wealth, or his strength, or his gifts. He will not be puffed up by suc or unduly depressed by failure. He will not obtrude his views on other speak his mind freely when occasion calls for it. He will not confer fav with a patronizing air. Sir Walter Scott once said of Lord Lothian, "He man from whom one may receive a favour, and that's saying a great de CHAPTER XIII 326 these days." Lord Chatham has said that the gentleman is characterised by his sac of self and preference of others to himself in the little daily occurrenc life. In illustration of this ruling spirit of considerateness in a noble character, we may cite the anecdote of the gallant Sir Ralph Abercrom of whom it is related, that when mortally wounded in the battle of Abo he was carried in a litter on board the 'Foudroyant;' and, to ease his p soldier's blanket was placed under his head, from which he experienc considerable relief. He asked what it was. "It's only a soldier's blanket 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 is." "It is Duncan Roy's, of the 42nd, Sir Ralph." "Then see that Dunca Roy gets his blanket this very night." {37} Even to ease his dying ago the general would not deprive the private soldier of his blanket for on night. The incident 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, S Francis Drake: "Chaste in his life, just in his dealings, true of his word merciful to those that were under him, and hating nothing so much as idlenesse; in matters especially of moment, he was never wont to rely other men's care, how trusty or skilful soever they might seem to be, b always contemning danger, and refusing no toyl, he was wont himself one (whoever was a second) at every turn, where courage, skill, or ind was to be employed." Footnotes: {1} Napoleon III., 'Life of Caesar.' {2} Soult received but little education in his youth, and learnt next to geography until he became foreign minister of France, when the study this branch of knowledge is said to have given him the greatest pleasure.--'OEuvres, &c., d'Alexis de Tocqueville. Par G. de Beaumont. CHAPTER XIII 327 Paris, 1861. I. 52 {3} 'OEuvres et Correspondance inedite d'Alexis de Tocqueville. Par Gustave de Beaumont.' I. 398. {4} "I have seen," said he, "a hundred times in the course of my life, a weak man exhibit genuine public virtue, because supported by a wife sustained hint in his course, not so much by advising him to such and acts, as by exercising a strengthening influence over the manner in w duty or even ambition was to be regarded. Much oftener, however, it m be confessed, have I seen private and domestic life gradually transfor man to whom nature had given generosity, disinterestedness, and eve some capacity for greatness, into an ambitious, mean-spirited, vulgar, selfish creature who, in matters relating to his country, ended by considering them only in so far as they rendered his own particular condition more comfortable and easy."--'OEuvres de Tocqueville.' II. 34 {5} Since the original publication of this book, the author has in another work, 'The Lives of Boulton and Watt,' endeavoured to portray in greater detail the character and achievements of these two remarkable men. {6} The following entry, which occurs in the account of monies disbur by the burgesses of Sheffield in 1573 [?] is supposed by some to refer inventor of the stocking frame:- "Item gyven to Willm-Lee, a poore scholler in Sheafield, towards the settyng him to the Universitie of Chambrydge, and buying him bookes and other furnyture [which mon was afterwards returned] xiii iiii [13s. 4d.]."--Hunter, 'History of Hallamshire,' 141. {7} 'History of the Framework Knitters.' {8} There are, however, other and different accounts. One is to the eff that Lee set about studying the contrivance of the stocking-loom for th purpose of lessening the labour of a young country-girl to whom he wa attached, whose occupation was knitting; another, that being married poor, his wife was under the necessity of contributing to their joint sup CHAPTER XIII 328 by knitting; and that Lee, while watching the motion of his wife's finge conceived the idea of imitating their movements by a machine. The lat story seems to have been invented by Aaron Hill, Esq., in his 'Account the Rise and Progress of the Beech Oil manufacture,' London, 1715; b statement is altogether unreliable. Thus he makes Lee to have been a Fellow of a college at Oxford, from which he was expelled for marryin innkeeper's daughter; whilst Lee neither studied at Oxford, nor marrie there, nor was a Fellow of any college; and he concludes by alleging th the result of his invention was to "make Lee and his family happy;" whereas the invention brought him only a heritage of misery, and he d abroad destitute. {9} Blackner, 'History of Nottingham.' The author adds, "We have information, handed down in direct succession from father to son, tha was not till late in the seventeenth century that one man could manag working of a frame. The man who was considered the workman emplo a labourer, who stood behind the frame to work the slur and pressing motions; but the application of traddles and of the feet eventually rend the labour unnecessary." {10} Palissy's own words are:- "Le bois m'ayant failli, je fus contraint brusler les estapes (etaies) qui soustenoyent les tailles de mon jardin, lesquelles estant bruslees, je fus constraint brusler les tables et planc la maison, afin de faire fondre la seconde composition. J'estois en une angoisse que je ne scaurois dire: car j'estois tout tari et deseche a cau labeur et de la chaleur du fourneau; il y avoit plus d'un mois que ma chemise n'avoit seiche sur moy, encores pour me consoler on se moqu moy, et mesme ceux qui me devoient secourir alloient crier par la ville je faisois brusler le plancher: et par tel moyen l'on me faisoit perdre m credit et m'estimoit-on estre fol. Les autres disoient que je cherchois a la fausse monnoye, qui estoit un mal qui me faisoit seicher sur les pied m'en allois par les rues tout baisse comme un homme honteux: . . . pe ne me secouroit: Mais au contraire ils se mocquoyent de moy, en disan luy appartient bien de mourir de faim, par ce qu'il delaisse son mestie Toutes ces nouvelles venoyent a mes aureilles quand je passois par la 'OEuvres Completes de Palissy. Paris, 1844;' De l'Art de Terre, p. 315. CHAPTER XIII 329 {11} "Toutes ces fautes m'ont cause un tel lasseur et tristesse d'espri qu'auparavant que j'aye rendu mes emaux fusible a un mesme degre d j'ay cuide entrer jusques a la porte du sepulchre: aussi en me travailla tels affaires je me suis trouve l'espace de plus se dix ans si fort escoul ma personne, qu'il n'y avoit aucune forme ny apparence de bosse aux ny aux jambes: ains estoyent mes dites jambes toutes d'une venue: de que les liens de quoy j'attachois mes bas de chausses estoyent, soudai je cheminois, sur les talons avec le residu de mes chausses."--'OEuvre 319-20. {12} At the sale of Mr. Bernal's articles of vertu in London a few year since, one of Palissy's small dishes, 12 inches in diameter, with a lizard the centre, sold for 162l. {13} Within the last few months, Mr. Charles Read, a gentleman curio matters of Protestant antiquarianism in France, has discovered one of ovens in which Palissy baked his chefs- d'oeuvre. Several moulds of fa plants, animals, &c., were dug up in a good state of preservation, bear his well-known stamp. It is situated under the gallery of the Louvre, in Place du Carrousel. {14} D'Aubigne, 'Histoire Universelle.' The historian adds, "Voyez l'impudence de ce bilistre! vous diriez qu'il auroit lu ce vers de Seneq 'On ne peut contraindre celui qui sait mourir: Qui mori scit, cogi nesci {15} The subject of Palissy's life and labours has been ably and elabor treated by Professor Morley in his well-known work. In the above brie narrative we have for the most part followed Palissy's own account of experiments as given in his 'Art de Terre.' {16} "Almighty God, the great Creator, Has changed a goldmaker to a potter." {17} The whole of the Chinese and Japanese porcelain was formerly known as Indian porcelain--probably because it was first brought by th Portuguese from India to Europe, after the discovery of the Cape of G CHAPTER XIII 330 Hope by Vasco da Gama. {18} 'Wedgwood: an Address delivered at Burslem, Oct. 26th, 1863.' B the Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone, M.P. {19} It was characteristic of Mr. Hume, that, during his professional voyages between England and India, he should diligently apply his spa time to the study of navigation and seamanship; and many years after, proved of use to him in a remarkable manner. In 1825, when on his pa from London to Leith by a sailing smack, the vessel had scarcely clear the mouth of the Thames when a sudden storm came on, she was driv of her course, and, in the darkness of the night, she struck on the Goo Sands. The captain, losing his presence of mind, seemed incapable of giving coherent orders, and it is probable that the vessel would have become a total wreck, had not one of the passengers suddenly taken t command and directed the working of the ship, himself taking the hel while the danger lasted. The vessel was saved, and the stranger was M Hume. {20} 'Saturday Review,' July 3rd, 1858. {21} Mrs. Grote's 'Memoir of the Life of Ary Scheffer,' p. 67. {22} While the sheets of this revised edition are passing through the the announcement appears in the local papers of the death of Mr. Jack the age of fifty. His last work, completed shortly before his death, was cantata, entitled 'The Praise of Music.' The above particulars of his ea life were communicated by himself to the author several years since, w he was still carrying on his business of a tallow-chandler at Masham. {23} Mansfield owed nothing to his noble relations, who were poor an uninfluential. His success was the legitimate and logical result of the m which he sedulously employed to secure it. When a boy he rode up fro Scotland to London on a pony--taking two months to make the journey After a course of school and college, he entered upon the profession o law, and he closed a career of patient and ceaseless labour as Lord Ch CHAPTER XIII 331 Justice of England-- the functions of which he is universally admitted t have performed with unsurpassed ability, justice, and honour. {24} On 'Thought and Action.' {25} 'Correspondance de Napoleon Ier.,' publiee par ordre de l'Emper Napoleon III, Paris, 1864. {26} The recently published correspondence of Napoleon with his broth Joseph, and the Memoirs of the Duke of Ragusa, abundantly confirm this view. The Duke overthrew Napoleon's generals by the superiority of his routine. He used to say that, if he knew anything at all, he knew how to feed an army. {27} His old gardener. Collingwood's favourite amusement was garde Shortly after the battle of Trafalgar a brother admiral called upon him after searching for his lordship all over the garden, he at last discover him, with old Scott, in the bottom of a deep trench which they were bu employed in digging. {28} Article in the 'Times.' {29} 'Self-Development: an Address to Students,' by George Ross, M.D pp. 1-20, reprinted from the 'Medical Circular.' This address, to which acknowledge our obligations, contains many admirable thoughts on self-culture, is thoroughly healthy in its tone, and well deserves republication in an enlarged form. {30} 'Saturday Review.' {31} See the admirable and well-known book, 'The Pursuit of Knowled under Difficulties.' {32} Late Professor of Moral Philosophy at St. Andrew's. CHAPTER XIII 332 {33} A writer in the 'Edinburgh Review' (July, 1859) observes that "th Duke's talents seem never to have developed themselves until some a and practical field for their display was placed immediately before him was long described by his Spartan mother, who thought him a dunce, only 'food for powder.' He gained no sort of distinction, either at Eton the French Military College of Angers." It is not improbable that a competitive examination, at this day, might have excluded him from th army. {34} Correspondent of 'The Times,' 11th June, 1863. {35} Robertson's 'Life and Letters,' i. 258. {36} On the 11th January, 1866. {37} Brown's 'Horae Subsecivae.' *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, SELF HELP *** This file should be named selfh10.txt or selfh10.zip Corrected EDITIO of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, selfh11.txt VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, selfh10a.txt Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed edition all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. Please be encour to tell us about any error or corrections, even years after the official publication date. 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CHAPTER I 2

Release Date: June, 1997 [EBook #935] [This file was first posted on June
10, 1997] [Most recently updated: May 20, 2003]

Edition: 10

Language: English

Character set encoding: US-ASCII

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, SELF HELP
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Transcribed by David Price, email [email protected]

SELF HELP; WITH ILLUSTRATIONS OF CONDUCT AND
PERSEVERANCE

CHAPTER I

--SELF-HELP--NATIONAL AND INDIVIDUAL

"The worth of a State, in the long run, is the worth of the individuals
composing it."--J. S. Mill.

"We put too much faith in systems, and look too little to men."--B. Disraeli.

"Heaven helps those who help themselves" is a well-tried maxim,
embodying in a small compass the results of vast human experience. The
spirit of self-help is the root of all genuine growth in the individual; and,
exhibited in the lives of many, it constitutes the true source of national
vigour and strength. Help from without is often enfeebling in its effects, but
help from within invariably invigorates. Whatever is done FOR men or
classes, to a certain extent takes away the stimulus and necessity of doing
for themselves; and where men are subjected to over-guidance and over-
government, the inevitable tendency is to render them comparatively
CHAPTER I 3

helpless.

Even the best institutions can give a man no active help. Perhaps the most
they can do is, to leave him free to develop himself and improve his
individual condition. But in all times men have been prone to believe that
their happiness and well-being were to be secured by means of institutions
rather than by their own conduct. Hence the value of legislation as an agent
in human advancement has usually been much over-estimated. To
constitute the millionth part of a Legislature, by voting for one or two men
once in three or five years, however conscientiously this duty may be
performed, can exercise but little active influence upon any man's life and
character. Moreover, it is every day becoming more clearly understood, that
the function of Government is negative and restrictive, rather than positive
and active; being resolvable principally into protection--protection of life,
liberty, and property. Laws, wisely administered, will secure men in the
enjoyment of the fruits of their labour, whether of mind or body, at a
comparatively small personal sacrifice; but no laws, however stringent, can
make the idle industrious, the thriftless provident, or the drunken sober.
Such reforms can only be effected by means of individual action, economy,
and self-denial; by better habits, rather than by greater rights.

The Government of a nation itself is usually found to be but the reflex of
the individuals composing it. The Government that is ahead of the people
will inevitably be dragged down to their level, as the Government that is
behind them will in the long run be dragged up. In the order of nature, the
collective character of a nation will as surely find its befitting results in its
law and government, as water finds its own level. The noble people will be
nobly ruled, and the ignorant and corrupt ignobly. Indeed all experience
serves to prove that the worth and strength of a State depend far less upon
the form of its institutions than upon the character of its men. For the nation
is only an aggregate of individual conditions, and civilization itself is but a
question of the personal improvement of the men, women, and children of
whom society is composed.

National progress is the sum of individual industry, energy, and
uprightness, as national decay is of individual idleness, selfishness, and
CHAPTER I 4

vice. What we are accustomed to decry as great social evils, will, for the
most part, be found to be but the outgrowth of man's own perverted life;
and though we may endeavour to cut them down and extirpate them by
means of Law, they will only spring up again with fresh luxuriance in some
other form, unless the conditions of personal life and character are radically
improved. If this view be correct, then it follows that the highest patriotism
and philanthropy consist, not so much in altering laws and modifying
institutions, as in helping and stimulating men to elevate and improve
themselves by their own free and independent individual action.

It may be of comparatively little consequence how a man is governed from
without, whilst everything depends upon how he governs himself from
within. The greatest slave is not he who is ruled by a despot, great though
that evil be, but he who is the thrall of his own moral ignorance,
selfishness, and vice. Nations who are thus enslaved at heart cannot be
freed by any mere changes of masters or of institutions; and so long as the
fatal delusion prevails, that liberty solely depends upon and consists in
government, so long will such changes, no matter at what cost they may be
effected, have as little practical and lasting result as the shifting of the
figures in a phantasmagoria. The solid foundations of liberty must rest upon
individual character; which is also the only sure guarantee for social
security and national progress. John Stuart Mill truly observes that "even
despotism does not produce its worst effects so long as individuality exists
under it; and whatever crushes individuality IS despotism, by whatever
name it be called."

Old fallacies as to human progress are constantly turning up. Some call for
Caesars, others for Nationalities, and others for Acts of Parliament. We are
to wait for Caesars, and when they are found, "happy the people who
recognise and follow them." {1} This doctrine shortly means, everything
FOR the people, nothing BY them,--a doctrine which, if taken as a guide,
must, by destroying the free conscience of a community, speedily prepare
the way for any form of despotism. Caesarism is human idolatry in its
worst form--a worship of mere power, as degrading in its effects as the
worship of mere wealth would be. A far healthier doctrine to inculcate
among the nations would be that of Self-Help; and so soon as it is
CHAPTER I 5

thoroughly understood and carried into action, Caesarism will be no more.
The two principles are directly antagonistic; and what Victor Hugo said of
the Pen and the Sword alike applies to them, "Ceci tuera cela." [This will
kill that.]

The power of Nationalities and Acts of Parliament is also a prevalent
superstition. What William Dargan, one of Ireland's truest patriots, said at
the closing of the first Dublin Industrial Exhibition, may well be quoted
now. "To tell the truth," he said, "I never heard the word independence
mentioned that my own country and my own fellow townsmen did not
occur to my mind. I have heard a great deal about the independence that we
were to get from this, that, and the other place, and of the great expectations
we were to have from persons from other countries coming amongst us.
Whilst I value as much as any man the great advantages that must result to
us from that intercourse, I have always been deeply impressed with the
feeling that our industrial independence is dependent upon ourselves. I
believe that with simple industry and careful exactness in the utilization of
our energies, we never had a fairer chance nor a brighter prospect than the
present. We have made a step, but perseverance is the great agent of
success; and if we but go on zealously, I believe in my conscience that in a
short period we shall arrive at a position of equal comfort, of equal
happiness, and of equal independence, with that of any other people."

All nations have been made what they are by the thinking and the working
of many generations of men. Patient and persevering labourers in all ranks
and conditions of life, cultivators of the soil and explorers of the mine,
inventors and discoverers, manufacturers, mechanics and artisans, poets,
philosophers, and politicians, all have contributed towards the grand result,
one generation building upon another's labours, and carrying them forward
to still higher stages. This constant succession of noble workers--the
artisans of civilisation--has served to create order out of chaos in industry,
science, and art; and the living race has thus, in the course of nature,
become the inheritor of the rich estate provided by the skill and industry of
our forefathers, which is placed in our hands to cultivate, and to hand
down, not only unimpaired but improved, to our successors.
CHAPTER I 6

The spirit of self-help, as exhibited in the energetic action of individuals,
has in all times been a marked feature in the English character, and
furnishes the true measure of our power as a nation. Rising above the heads
of the mass, there were always to be found a series of individuals
distinguished beyond others, who commanded the public homage. But our
progress has also been owing to multitudes of smaller and less known men.
Though only the generals' names may be remembered in the history of any
great campaign, it has been in a great measure through the individual valour
and heroism of the privates that victories have been won. And life, too, is "a
soldiers' battle,"--men in the ranks having in all times been amongst the
greatest of workers. Many are the lives of men unwritten, which have
nevertheless as powerfully influenced civilisation and progress as the more
fortunate Great whose names are recorded in biography. Even the humblest
person, who sets before his fellows an example of industry, sobriety, and
upright honesty of purpose in life, has a present as well as a future
influence upon the well-being of his country; for his life and character pass
unconsciously into the lives of others, and propagate good example for all
time to come.

Daily experience shows that it is energetic individualism which produces
the most powerful effects upon the life and action of others, and really
constitutes the best practical education. Schools, academies, and colleges,
give but the merest beginnings of culture in comparison with it. Far more
influential is the life- education daily given in our homes, in the streets,
behind counters, in workshops, at the loom and the plough, in counting-
houses and manufactories, and in the busy haunts of men. This is that
finishing instruction as members of society, which Schiller designated "the
education of the human race," consisting in action, conduct, self-culture,
self-control,--all that tends to discipline a man truly, and fit him for the
proper performance of the duties and business of life,--a kind of education
not to be learnt from books, or acquired by any amount of mere literary
training. With his usual weight of words Bacon observes, that "Studies
teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above
them, won by observation;" a remark that holds true of actual life, as well
as of the cultivation of the intellect itself. For all experience serves to
illustrate and enforce the lesson, that a man perfects himself by work more
CHAPTER I 7

than by reading,--that it is life rather than literature, action rather than
study, and character rather than biography, which tend perpetually to
renovate mankind.

Biographies of great, but especially of good men, are nevertheless most
instructive and useful, as helps, guides, and incentives to others. Some of
the best are almost equivalent to gospels-- teaching high living, high
thinking, and energetic action for their own and the world's good. The
valuable examples which they furnish of the power of self-help, of patient
purpose, resolute working, and steadfast integrity, issuing in the formation
of truly noble and manly character, exhibit in language not to be
misunderstood, what it is in the power of each to accomplish for himself;
and eloquently illustrate the efficacy of self-respect and self- reliance in
enabling men of even the humblest rank to work out for themselves an
honourable competency and a solid reputation.

Great men of science, literature, and art--apostles of great thoughts and
lords of the great heart--have belonged to no exclusive class nor rank in
life. They have come alike from colleges, workshops, and
farmhouses,--from the huts of poor men and the mansions of the rich. Some
of God's greatest apostles have come from "the ranks." The poorest have
sometimes taken the highest places; nor have difficulties apparently the
most insuperable proved obstacles in their way. Those very difficulties, in
many instances, would ever seem to have been their best helpers, by
evoking their powers of labour and endurance, and stimulating into life
faculties which might otherwise have lain dormant. The instances of
obstacles thus surmounted, and of triumphs thus achieved, are indeed so
numerous, as almost to justify the proverb that "with Will one can do
anything." Take, for instance, the remarkable fact, that from the barber's
shop came Jeremy Taylor, the most poetical of divines; Sir Richard
Arkwright, the inventor of the spinning-jenny and founder of the cotton
manufacture; Lord Tenterden, one of the most distinguished of Lord Chief
Justices; and Turner, the greatest among landscape painters.

No one knows to a certainty what Shakespeare was; but it is unquestionable
that he sprang from a humble rank. His father was a butcher and grazier;
CHAPTER I 8

and Shakespeare himself is supposed to have been in early life a
woolcomber; whilst others aver that he was an usher in a school and
afterwards a scrivener's clerk. He truly seems to have been "not one, but all
mankind's epitome." For such is the accuracy of his sea phrases that a naval
writer alleges that he must have been a sailor; whilst a clergyman infers,
from internal evidence in his writings, that he was probably a parson's
clerk; and a distinguished judge of horse-flesh insists that he must have
been a horse-dealer. Shakespeare was certainly an actor, and in the course
of his life "played many parts," gathering his wonderful stores of
knowledge from a wide field of experience and observation. In any event,
he must have been a close student and a hard worker; and to this day his
writings continue to exercise a powerful influence on the formation of
English character.

The common class of day labourers has given us Brindley the engineer,
Cook the navigator, and Burns the poet. Masons and bricklayers can boast
of Ben Jonson, who worked at the building of Lincoln's Inn, with a trowel
in his hand and a book in his pocket, Edwards and Telford the engineers,
Hugh Miller the geologist, and Allan Cunningham the writer and sculptor;
whilst among distinguished carpenters we find the names of Inigo Jones the
architect, Harrison the chronometer-maker, John Hunter the physiologist,
Romney and Opie the painters, Professor Lee the Orientalist, and John
Gibson the sculptor.

From the weaver class have sprung Simson the mathematician, Bacon the
sculptor, the two Milners, Adam Walker, John Foster, Wilson the
ornithologist, Dr. Livingstone the missionary traveller, and Tannahill the
poet. Shoemakers have given us Sir Cloudesley Shovel the great Admiral,
Sturgeon the electrician, Samuel Drew the essayist, Gifford the editor of the
'Quarterly Review,' Bloomfield the poet, and William Carey the
missionary; whilst Morrison, another laborious missionary, was a maker of
shoe-lasts. Within the last few years, a profound naturalist has been
discovered in the person of a shoemaker at Banff, named Thomas Edwards,
who, while maintaining himself by his trade, has devoted his leisure to the
study of natural science in all its branches, his researches in connexion with
the smaller crustaceae having been rewarded by the discovery of a new
CHAPTER I 9

species, to which the name of "Praniza Edwardsii" has been given by
naturalists.

Nor have tailors been undistinguished. John Stow, the historian, worked at
the trade during some part of his life. Jackson, the painter, made clothes
until he reached manhood. The brave Sir John Hawkswood, who so greatly
distinguished himself at Poictiers, and was knighted by Edward III. for his
valour, was in early life apprenticed to a London tailor. Admiral Hobson,
who broke the boom at Vigo in 1702, belonged to the same calling. He was
working as a tailor's apprentice near Bonchurch, in the Isle of Wight, when
the news flew through the village that a squadron of men-of-war was
sailing off the island. He sprang from the shopboard, and ran down with his
comrades to the beach, to gaze upon the glorious sight. The boy was
suddenly inflamed with the ambition to be a sailor; and springing into a
boat, he rowed off to the squadron, gained the admiral's ship, and was
accepted as a volunteer. Years after, he returned to his native village full of
honours, and dined off bacon and eggs in the cottage where he had worked
as an apprentice. But the greatest tailor of all is unquestionably Andrew
Johnson, the present President of the United States--a man of extraordinary
force of character and vigour of intellect. In his great speech at Washington,
when describing himself as having begun his political career as an
alderman, and run through all the branches of the legislature, a voice in the
crowd cried, "From a tailor up." It was characteristic of Johnson to take the
intended sarcasm in good part, and even to turn it to account. "Some
gentleman says I have been a tailor. That does not disconcert me in the
least; for when I was a tailor I had the reputation of being a good one, and
making close fits; I was always punctual with my customers, and always
did good work."

Cardinal Wolsey, De Foe, Akenside, and Kirke White were the sons of
butchers; Bunyan was a tinker, and Joseph Lancaster a basket-maker.
Among the great names identified with the invention of the steam- engine
are those of Newcomen, Watt, and Stephenson; the first a blacksmith, the
second a maker of mathematical instruments, and the third an
engine-fireman. Huntingdon the preacher was originally a coalheaver, and
Bewick, the father of wood-engraving, a coalminer. Dodsley was a
CHAPTER I 10

footman, and Holcroft a groom. Baffin the navigator began his seafaring
career as a man before the mast, and Sir Cloudesley Shovel as a cabin-boy.
Herschel played the oboe in a military band. Chantrey was a journeyman
carver, Etty a journeyman printer, and Sir Thomas Lawrence the son of a
tavern-keeper. Michael Faraday, the son of a blacksmith, was in early life
apprenticed to a bookbinder, and worked at that trade until he reached his
twenty-second year: he now occupies the very first rank as a philosopher,
excelling even his master, Sir Humphry Davy, in the art of lucidly
expounding the most difficult and abstruse points in natural science.

Among those who have given the greatest impulse to the sublime science of
astronomy, we find Copernicus, the son of a Polish baker; Kepler, the son
of a German public-house keeper, and himself the "garcon de cabaret;"
d'Alembert, a foundling picked up one winter's night on the steps of the
church of St. Jean le Rond at Paris, and brought up by the wife of a glazier;
and Newton and Laplace, the one the son of a small freeholder near
Grantham, the other the son of a poor peasant of Beaumont-en-Auge, near
Honfleur. Notwithstanding their comparatively adverse circumstances in
early life, these distinguished men achieved a solid and enduring reputation
by the exercise of their genius, which all the wealth in the world could not
have purchased. The very possession of wealth might indeed have proved
an obstacle greater even than the humble means to which they were born.
The father of Lagrange, the astronomer and mathematician, held the office
of Treasurer of War at Turin; but having ruined himself by speculations, his
family were reduced to comparative poverty. To this circumstance
Lagrange was in after life accustomed partly to attribute his own fame and
happiness. "Had I been rich," said he, "I should probably not have become
a mathematician."

The sons of clergymen and ministers of religion generally, have particularly
distinguished themselves in our country's history. Amongst them we find
the names of Drake and Nelson, celebrated in naval heroism; of Wollaston,
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 honourably known in Indian warfare,
CHAPTER I 11

were also the sons of clergymen. 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 business.

Among the sons of attorneys we find Edmund Burke, Smeaton the
engineer, Scott and Wordsworth, and Lords Somers, Hardwick, and
Dunning. Sir William Blackstone was the posthumous son of a silk-
mercer. Lord Gifford's father was a grocer at Dover; Lord Denman's a
physician; judge Talfourd's a country brewer; and Lord Chief Baron
Pollock's a celebrated saddler at Charing Cross. Layard, the discoverer of
the monuments of Nineveh, was an articled clerk in a London solicitor's
office; and Sir William Armstrong, the inventor of hydraulic machinery and
of the Armstrong ordnance, was also trained to the law and practised for
some time as an attorney. Milton was the son of a London scrivener, and
Pope and Southey were the sons of linendrapers. Professor Wilson was the
son of a Paisley manufacturer, 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." Richard
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 great knowledge while occupied in cataloguing the magnificent
museum accumulated by the industry of John Hunter, a work which
occupied him at the College of Surgeons during a period of about ten years.

Foreign not less than English biography abounds in illustrations of men
who have glorified the lot of poverty by their labours and their genius. In
Art we find Claude, the son of a pastrycook; Geefs, of a baker; Leopold
Robert, of a watchmaker; and Haydn, of a wheelwright; whilst Daguerre
was a scene-painter at the Opera. The father of Gregory VII. was a
carpenter; of Sextus V., a shepherd; and of Adrian VI., a poor bargeman.
When a boy, Adrian, unable to pay for a light by which to study, was
accustomed to prepare his lessons by the light of the lamps in the streets
and the church porches, exhibiting a degree of patience and industry which
CHAPTER I 12

were the certain forerunners of his future distinction. Of like humble origin
were Hauy, the mineralogist, who was the son of a weaver of Saint-Just;
Hautefeuille, the mechanician, of a baker at Orleans; Joseph Fourier, the
mathematician, of a tailor at Auxerre; Durand, the architect, of a Paris
shoemaker; and Gesner, the naturalist, of a skinner or worker in hides, at
Zurich. This last began his career under all the disadvantages attendant on
poverty, sickness, and domestic calamity; none of which, however, were
sufficient to damp his courage or hinder his progress. His life was indeed
an eminent illustration of the truth of the saying, that those who have most
to do and are willing to work, will find the most time. Pierre Ramus was
another man of like character. He was the son of poor parents in Picardy,
and when a boy was employed to tend sheep. But not liking the occupation
he ran away to Paris. After encountering much misery, he succeeded in
entering the College of Navarre as a servant. The situation, however,
opened for him the road to learning, and he shortly became one of the most
distinguished men of his time.

The chemist Vauquelin was the son of a peasant of Saint-Andre-
d'Herbetot, in the Calvados. When a boy at school, though poorly clad, he
was full of bright intelligence; and the master, who taught him to read and
write, when praising him for his diligence, used to say, "Go on, my boy;
work, study, Colin, and one day you will go as well dressed as the parish
churchwarden!" A country apothecary who visited the school, admired the
robust boy's arms, and offered to take him into his laboratory to pound his
drugs, to which Vauquelin assented, in the hope of being able to continue
his lessons. But the apothecary would not permit him to spend any part of
his time in learning; and on ascertaining this, the youth immediately
determined to quit his service. He therefore left Saint-Andre and took the
road for Paris with his havresac on his back. Arrived there, he searched for
a place as apothecary's boy, but could not find one. Worn out by fatigue
and destitution, Vauquelin fell ill, and in that state was taken to the
hospital, where he thought he should die. But better things were in store for
the poor boy. He recovered, and again proceeded in his search of
employment, which he at length found with an apothecary. Shortly after, he
became known to Fourcroy the eminent chemist, who was so pleased with
the youth that he made him his private secretary; and many years after, on
CHAPTER I 13

the death of that great philosopher, Vauquelin succeeded him as Professor
of Chemistry. Finally, in 1829, the electors of the district of Calvados
appointed him their representative in the Chamber of Deputies, and he
re-entered in triumph the village which he had left so many years before, so
poor and so obscure.

England has no parallel instances to show, of promotions from the ranks of
the army to the highest military offices; which have been so common in
France since the first Revolution. "La carriere ouverte aux talents" has there
received many striking illustrations, which would doubtless be matched
among ourselves were the road to promotion as open. Hoche, Humbert, and
Pichegru, began their respective careers as private soldiers. Hoche, while in
the King's army, was accustomed to embroider waistcoats to enable him to
earn money wherewith to purchase books on military science. Humbert was
a scapegrace when a youth; at sixteen he ran away from home, and was by
turns servant to a tradesman at Nancy, a workman at Lyons, and a hawker
of rabbit skins. In 1792, he enlisted as a volunteer; and in a year he was
general of brigade. Kleber, Lefevre, Suchet, Victor, Lannes, Soult,
Massena, St. Cyr, D'Erlon, Murat, Augereau, Bessieres, and Ney, all rose
from the ranks. In some cases promotion was rapid, in others it was slow.
Saint Cyr, the son of a tanner of Toul, began life as an actor, after which he
enlisted in the Chasseurs, and was promoted to a captaincy within a year.
Victor, Duc de Belluno, enlisted in the Artillery in 1781: during the events
preceding the Revolution he was discharged; but immediately on the
outbreak of war he re- enlisted, and in the course of a few months his
intrepidity and ability secured his promotion as Adjutant-Major and chief
of battalion. Murat, "le beau sabreur," was the son of a village innkeeper in
Perigord, where he looked after the horses. He first enlisted in a regiment of
Chasseurs, from which he was dismissed for insubordination: but again
enlisting, he shortly rose to the rank of Colonel. Ney enlisted at eighteen in
a hussar regiment, and gradually advanced step by step: Kleber soon
discovered his merits, surnaming him "The Indefatigable," and promoted
him to be Adjutant-General when only twenty-five. On the other hand,
Soult {2} was six years from the date of his enlistment before he reached
the rank of sergeant. But Soult's advancement was rapid compared with that
of Massena, who served for fourteen years before he was made sergeant;
CHAPTER I 14

and though he afterwards rose successively, step by step, to the grades of
Colonel, General of Division, and Marshal, he declared that the post of
sergeant was the step which of all others had cost him the most labour to
win. Similar promotions from the ranks, in the French army, have
continued down to our own day. Changarnier entered the King's bodyguard
as a private in 1815. Marshal Bugeaud served four years in the ranks, after
which he was made an officer. Marshal Randon, the present French
Minister of War, began his military career as a drummer boy; and in the
portrait of him in the gallery at Versailles, his hand rests upon a drum-head,
the picture being thus painted at his own request. Instances such as these
inspire French soldiers with enthusiasm for their service, as each private
feels that he may possibly carry the baton of a marshal in his knapsack.

The instances of men, in this and other countries, who, by dint of
persevering application and energy, have raised themselves from the
humblest ranks of industry to eminent positions of usefulness and influence
in society, are indeed so numerous that they have long ceased to be
regarded as exceptional. Looking at some of the more remarkable, it might
almost be said that early encounter with difficulty and adverse
circumstances was the necessary and indispensable condition of success.
The British House of Commons has always contained a considerable
number of such self-raised men- -fitting representatives of the industrial
character of the people; and it is to the credit of our Legislature that they
have been welcomed and honoured there. When the late Joseph Brotherton,
member for Salford, in the course of the discussion on the Ten Hours Bill,
detailed with true pathos the hardships and fatigues to which he had been
subjected when working as a factory boy in a cotton mill, and described the
resolution which he had then formed, that if ever it was in his power he
would endeavour to ameliorate the condition of that class, Sir James
Graham rose immediately after him, and declared, amidst the cheers of the
House, that he did not before know that Mr. Brotherton's origin had been so
humble, but that it rendered him more proud than he had ever before been
of the House of Commons, to think that a person risen from that condition
should be able to sit side by side, on equal terms, with the hereditary gentry
of the land.
CHAPTER I 15

The late Mr. Fox, member for Oldham, was accustomed to introduce his
recollections of past times with the words, "when I was working as a
weaver boy at Norwich;" and there are other members of parliament, still
living, whose origin has been equally humble. Mr. Lindsay, the well-known
ship owner, until recently member for Sunderland, once told the simple
story of his life to the electors of Weymouth, in answer to an attack made
upon him by his political opponents. He had been left an orphan at
fourteen, and when he left Glasgow for Liverpool to push his way in the
world, not being able to pay the usual fare, the captain of the steamer
agreed to take his labour in exchange, and the boy worked his passage by
trimming the coals in the coal hole. At Liverpool he remained for seven
weeks before he could obtain employment, during which time he lived in
sheds and fared hardly; until at last he found shelter on board a West
Indiaman. He entered as a boy, and before he was nineteen, by steady good
conduct he had risen to the command of a ship. At twenty-three he retired
from the sea, and settled on shore, after which his progress was rapid "he
had prospered," he said, "by steady industry, by constant work, and by ever
keeping in view the great principle of doing to others as you would be done
by."

The career of Mr. William Jackson, of Birkenhead, the present member for
North Derbyshire, bears considerable resemblance to that of Mr. Lindsay.
His father, a surgeon at Lancaster, died, leaving a family of eleven children,
of whom William Jackson was the seventh son. The elder boys had been
well educated while the father lived, but at his death the younger members
had to shift for themselves. William, when under twelve years old, was
taken from school, and put to hard work at a ship's side from six in the
morning till nine at night. His master falling ill, the boy was taken into the
counting-house, where he had more leisure. This gave him an opportunity
of reading, and having obtained access to a set of the 'Encyclopaedia
Britannica,' he read the volumes through from A to Z, partly by day, but
chiefly at night. He afterwards put himself to a trade, was diligent, and
succeeded in it. Now he has ships sailing on almost every sea, and holds
commercial relations with nearly every country on the globe.
CHAPTER I 16

Among like men of the same class may be ranked the late Richard Cobden,
whose start in life was equally humble. The son of a small farmer at
Midhurst in Sussex, he was sent at an early age to London and employed as
a boy in a warehouse in the City. He was diligent, well conducted, and
eager for information. His master, a man of the old school, warned him
against too much reading; but the boy went on in his own course, storing
his mind with the wealth found in books. He was promoted from one
position of trust to another-- became a traveller for his house--secured a
large connection, and eventually started in business as a calico printer at
Manchester. Taking an interest in public questions, more especially in
popular education, his attention was gradually drawn to the subject of the
Corn Laws, to the repeal of which he may be said to have devoted his
fortune and his life. It may be mentioned as a curious fact that the first
speech he delivered in public was a total failure. But he had great
perseverance, application, and energy; and with persistency and practice, he
became at length one of the most persuasive and effective of public
speakers, extorting the disinterested eulogy of even Sir Robert Peel himself.
M. Drouyn de Lhuys, the French Ambassador, has eloquently said of Mr.
Cobden, that he was "a living proof of what merit, perseverance, and labour
can accomplish; one of the most complete examples of those men who,
sprung from the humblest ranks of society, raise themselves to the highest
rank in public estimation by the effect of their own worth and of their
personal services; finally, one of the rarest examples of the solid qualities
inherent in the English character."

In all these cases, strenuous individual application was the price paid for
distinction; excellence of any sort being 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 can only be attained by energetic application; for
though an inheritance of acres may be bequeathed, an inheritance of
knowledge and wisdom cannot. The wealthy man may pay others for doing
his work for him, but it is impossible to get his thinking done for him by
another, or to purchase any kind of self-culture. Indeed, the doctrine that
excellence in any pursuit is only to be achieved by laborious application,
CHAPTER I 17

holds as true in the case of the man of wealth as in that of Drew and
Gifford, whose only school was a cobbler's stall, or Hugh Miller, whose
only college was a Cromarty stone quarry.

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 existence
does not train men to effort or encounter with difficulty; 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 blessing; rousing a
man to that struggle with the world in which, though some may purchase
ease by degradation, the right-minded and true-hearted find strength,
confidence, and triumph. Bacon says, "Men seem neither to understand
their riches nor their strength: of the former they believe greater things than
they should; of the latter much less. Self-reliance and self-denial will teach
a man to drink out of his own cistern, and eat his own sweet bread, and to
learn and labour truly to get his living, and carefully to expend the good
things committed to his trust."

Riches are so great a temptation to ease and self-indulgence, to which men
are by nature prone, that the glory is all the greater of those who, born to
ample fortunes, nevertheless take an active part in the work of their
generation--who "scorn delights and live laborious days." It is to the honour
of the wealthier ranks in this country that they are not idlers; for they do
their fair share of the work of the state, and usually take more than their fair
share of its dangers. It was a fine thing said of a subaltern officer in the
Peninsular campaigns, observed trudging alone through mud and mire by
the side of his regiment, "There goes 15,000l. a year!" and in our own day,
the bleak slopes of Sebastopol and the burning soil of India have borne
witness to the like noble self-denial and devotion on the part of our gentler
classes; many a gallant and noble fellow, of rank and estate, having risked
his life, or lost it, in one or other of those fields of action, in the service of
his country.
CHAPTER I 18

Nor have the wealthier classes been undistinguished in the more peaceful
pursuits of philosophy and science. Take, for instance, the great names of
Bacon, the father of modern philosophy, and of Worcester, Boyle,
Cavendish, 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 as an inventor. So
thorough is his knowledge of smith-work that he is said to have been
pressed on one occasion to accept the foremanship of a large workshop, by
a manufacturer to whom his rank was unknown. The great Rosse telescope,
of his own fabrication, 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 labourers 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 was Palmerston;
and such are Derby and Russell, Disraeli and Gladstone. 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 night. 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
continuous intellectual labour, nor did he spare himself. His career, indeed,
presented a remarkable example of how much a man of comparatively
moderate powers can accomplish by means of assiduous application and
indefatigable industry. During the forty years that he held a seat in
Parliament, his labours 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 written
on the subject under consideration. He was elaborate almost to excess; and
spared no pains to adapt himself to the various capacities of his audience.
Withal, he possessed 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, instead of contracting, only served to mellow and ripen his
nature. To the last he continued open to the reception of new views, and,
CHAPTER I 19

though many thought him cautious to excess, he did not allow himself to
fall into that indiscriminating admiration of the past, which is the palsy of
many minds similarly educated, and renders the old age of many nothing
but a pity.

The indefatigable industry of Lord Brougham has become almost
proverbial. His public labours 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 Brougham,
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 series 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 Reign of George III.,' and taking his
full share of the law business and the political discussions in the House of
Lords. Sydney Smith once recommended him to confine himself to only the
transaction of so much business as three strong men could get through. But
such was Brougham's love of work--long become a habit--that no amount
of application seems to have been too great for him; and such was his love
of excellence, that it has been said of him that if his station in life had been
only that of a shoe-black, he would never have rested satisfied until he had
become the best shoe-black in England.

Another hard-working man of the same class is Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. Few
writers have done more, or achieved higher distinction in various walks--as
a novelist, poet, dramatist, historian, essayist, orator, and politician. He has
worked his way step by step, disdainful of ease, and animated throughout
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
CHAPTER I 20

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 the clubs and enjoy the opera, with the variety
of London visiting and sight-seeing during the "season," and then off to the
country mansion, with its well-stocked preserves, and its thousand
delightful out-door pleasures,--to travel abroad, to Paris, Vienna, or
Rome,--all this is excessively attractive to a lover of pleasure and a man of
fortune, and by no means calculated to make him voluntarily undertake
continuous labour of any kind. Yet these pleasures, all within his reach,
Bulwer must, as compared with men born to similar 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 it proved a failure too. A
man of weaker nerve would have dropped authorship; but Bulwer had
pluck and perseverance; and he worked on, determined to succeed. He was
incessantly industrious, read extensively, 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 literature; and he reached success only through a
succession of failures. His 'Wondrous Tale of Alroy' and 'Revolutionary
Epic' were laughed at, and regarded as indications 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 exclaimed, "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 attention of the
CHAPTER I 21

first assembly of gentlemen in the world, affords a striking illustration of
what energy and determination will do; for Disraeli earned his position by
dint of patient industry. He did not, as many young men do, having once
failed, retire dejected, to mope and whine in a corner, but diligently set
himself to work. He carefully unlearnt his faults, studied the character of
his audience, practised sedulously the art of speech, and industriously filled
his mind with the elements of parliamentary knowledge. He worked
patiently for success; and it came, but slowly: then the House laughed with
him, instead of at him. The recollection of his early failure was effaced, and
by general consent he was at length admitted to be one of the most finished
and effective of parliamentary speakers.

Although much may be accomplished by means of individual industry and
energy, as these and other instances set forth in the following pages serve to
illustrate, it must at the same time be acknowledged that the help which we
derive from others in the journey of life is of very great importance. The
poet Wordsworth has well said that "these two things, contradictory though
they may seem, must go together--manly dependence and manly
independence, manly reliance and manly self-reliance." From infancy to old
age, all are more or less indebted to others for nurture and culture; and the
best and strongest are usually found the readiest to acknowledge such help.
Take, for example, the career of the late Alexis de Tocqueville, a man
doubly well-born, for his father was a distinguished peer of France, and his
mother a grand-daughter of Malesherbes. Through powerful family
influence, he was appointed Judge Auditor at Versailles when only
twenty-one; but probably feeling that he had not fairly won the position by
merit, he determined to give it up and owe his future advancement in life to
himself alone. "A foolish resolution," some will say; but De Tocqueville
bravely acted it out. He resigned his appointment, and made arrangements
to leave France for the purpose of travelling through the United States, the
results of which were published in his great book on 'Democracy in
America.' His friend and travelling companion, Gustave de Beaumont, has
described his indefatigable industry during this journey. "His nature," he
says, "was wholly averse to idleness, and whether he was travelling or
resting, his mind was always at work. . . . With Alexis, the most agreeable
conversation was that which was the most useful. The worst day was the
CHAPTER I 22

lost day, or the day ill spent; the least loss of time annoyed him."
Tocqueville himself wrote to a friend--"There is no time of life at which
one can wholly cease from action, for effort without one's self, and still
more effort within, is equally necessary, if not more so, when we grow old,
as it is in youth. I compare man in this world to a traveller journeying
without ceasing towards a colder and colder region; the higher he goes, the
faster he ought to walk. The great malady of the soul is cold. And in
resisting this formidable evil, one needs not only to be sustained by the
action of a mind employed, but also by contact with one's fellows in the
business of life." {3}

Notwithstanding de Tocqueville's decided views as to the necessity of
exercising individual energy and self-dependence, no one could be more
ready than he was to recognise the value of that help and support for which
all men are indebted to others in a greater or less degree. Thus, he often
acknowledged, with gratitude, his obligations to his friends De Kergorlay
and Stofells,--to the former for intellectual assistance, and to the latter for
moral support and sympathy. To De Kergorlay he wrote--"Thine is the only
soul in which I have confidence, and whose influence exercises a genuine
effect upon my own. Many others have influence upon the details of my
actions, but no one has so much influence as thou on the origination of
fundamental ideas, and of those principles which are the rule of conduct."
De Tocqueville was not less ready to confess the great obligations which he
owed to his wife, Marie, for the preservation of that temper and frame of
mind which enabled him to prosecute his studies with success. He believed
that a noble- minded woman insensibly elevated the character of her
husband, while one of a grovelling nature as certainly tended to degrade it.
{4}

In fine, human character is moulded by a thousand subtle influences; by
example and precept; by life and literature; by friends and neighbours; by
the world we live in as well as by the spirits of our forefathers, whose
legacy of good words and deeds we inherit. But great, unquestionably,
though these influences are acknowledged to be, it is nevertheless equally
clear that men must necessarily be the active agents of their own well-being
and well- doing; and that, however much the wise and the good may owe to
CHAPTER II 23

others, they themselves must in the very nature of things be their own best
helpers.

CHAPTER II

--LEADERS OF INDUSTRY--INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS

"Le travail et la Science sont desormais les maitres du monde."--De
Salvandy.

"Deduct all that men of the humbler classes have done for England in the
way of inventions only, and see where she would have been but for
them."--Arthur Helps.

One of the most strongly-marked features of the English people is their
spirit of industry, standing out prominent and distinct in their past history,
and as strikingly characteristic of them now as at any former period. It is
this spirit, displayed by the commons of England, which has laid the
foundations and built up the industrial greatness of the empire. This
vigorous growth of the nation has been mainly the result of the free energy
of individuals, and it has been contingent upon the number 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 constitution.

The career of industry which the nation has pursued, has also proved its
best education. As steady application to work is the healthiest training for
every individual, so is it the best discipline of a state. Honourable industry
travels the same road with duty; and Providence has closely linked both
with happiness. The gods, says the poet, have placed labour and toil on the
way leading to the Elysian fields. Certain it is that no bread eaten by man is
so sweet as that earned by his own labour, whether bodily or mental. By
labour the earth has been subdued, and man redeemed from barbarism; nor
CHAPTER II 24

has a single step in civilization been made without it. Labour is not only a
necessity and a duty, but a blessing: only the idler feels it to be a curse. The
duty of work is written on the thews and muscles of the limbs, the
mechanism of the hand, the nerves and lobes of the brain--the sum of
whose healthy action is satisfaction and enjoyment. In the school of labour
is taught the best practical wisdom; nor is a life of manual employment, as
we shall hereafter find, incompatible with high mental culture.

Hugh Miller, than whom none knew better the strength and the weakness
belonging to the lot of labour, stated the result of his experience to be, that
Work, even the hardest, is full of pleasure and materials for
self-improvement. He held honest labour 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 effort 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
acquires,--better fits him for picking his way along the journey of life, and
is more favourable to his growth as a Man, emphatically speaking, than the
training afforded by any other condition.

The array of great names which we have already cursorily cited, of men
springing from the ranks of the industrial classes, who have achieved
distinction in various walks of life--in science, commerce, literature, and
art--shows that at all events the difficulties interposed by poverty and
labour are not insurmountable. As respects 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
indebted to men of the 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.

Inventors have set in motion some of the greatest industries of the world.
To them society owes many of its chief necessaries, comforts, and luxuries;
and by their genius and labour daily life has been rendered in all respects
CHAPTER II 25

more easy as well as enjoyable. Our food, our clothing, the furniture of our
homes, the glass which admits the light to our dwellings at the same time
that it excludes the cold, the gas which illuminates our streets, our means of
locomotion by land and by sea, the tools by which our various articles of
necessity and luxury are fabricated, have been the result of the labour and
ingenuity of many men and many minds. Mankind at large are all the
happier for such inventions, and are every day reaping the benefit of them
in an increase of individual well-being as well as of public enjoyment.

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 ago. Like other contrivances and discoveries, it
was effected step by step--one man transmitting the result of his labours, at
the time apparently useless, to his successors, who took it up and carried it
forward another stage,-- the prosecution of the inquiry extending over many
generations. Thus 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 again 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 industry, does not that
marvellous machine tell of! It is indeed, in itself, a monument of the power
of self-help in man. Grouped around it we find Savary, the military
engineer; Newcomen, the Dartmouth blacksmith; Cawley, the glazier;
Potter, the engine-boy; Smeaton, the civil engineer; and, towering above
all, the laborious, patient, never-tiring James Watt, the
mathematical-instrument maker.

Watt was one of the most industrious of men; and the story of his life
proves, what all experience confirms, that it is not the man of the greatest
natural vigour and capacity who achieves the highest results, but he who
employs his powers with the greatest industry and the most carefully
disciplined skill--the skill that comes by labour, application, and
experience. Many men in his time knew far more than Watt, but none
laboured so assiduously as he did to turn all that he did know to useful
CHAPTER II 26

practical purposes. He was, above all things, most persevering in the
pursuit of facts. He cultivated carefully that habit of active attention on
which all the higher working qualities of the mind mainly depend. Indeed,
Mr. Edgeworth entertained the opinion, that the difference of intellect in
men depends more upon the early cultivation of this HABIT 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 and history. While carrying on the business of a
mathematical-instrument maker, he received an order to build an organ;
and, though without an ear for music, he undertook the study of harmonics,
and successfully constructed the instrument. And, in like manner, when the
little model of Newcomen's steam-engine, belonging to the University of
Glasgow, was placed in his hands to repair, he forthwith set himself to learn
all that was then known about heat, evaporation, and condensation,--at the
same time plodding his way in mechanics and the science of
construction,--the results of which he at length embodied in his condensing
steam-engine.

For ten years he went on contriving and inventing--with little hope to cheer
him, and with few friends to encourage him. He went on, meanwhile,
earning bread for his family by making and selling quadrants, making and
mending fiddles, flutes, and musical instruments; 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 industry--Matthew
Boulton, of Birmingham; a skilful, 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. {5}
CHAPTER II 27

Many skilful inventors have from time to time added new power to the
steam-engine; and, by numerous modifications, rendered it capable of being
applied to nearly all the purposes of manufacture- -driving machinery,
impelling ships, grinding corn, printing books, stamping money,
hammering, planing, and turning iron; in short, of performing every
description of mechanical labour where power is required. One of the most
useful modifications in the engine was that devised by Trevithick, and
eventually perfected by George Stephenson and his son, in the form 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.

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. The person most closely
identified with the foundation of this great branch of industry was
unquestionably Sir Richard Arkwright, whose practical energy and sagacity
were perhaps even more remarkable than his mechanical inventiveness. His
originality as an inventor has indeed been called in question, like that of
Watt and Stephenson. Arkwright probably stood in the same relation to the
spinning- machine that Watt did to the steam-engine and Stephenson to the
locomotive. He gathered together the scattered threads of ingenuity which
already existed, and wove them, after his own design, into a new and
original fabric. Though Lewis Paul, of Birmingham, patented the invention
of spinning by rollers thirty years before Arkwright, the machines
constructed by him were so imperfect in their details, that they could not be
profitably worked, and the invention was practically a failure. Another
obscure mechanic, a reed-maker of Leigh, named Thomas Highs, is also
said to have invented the water-frame and spinning-jenny; but they, too,
proved unsuccessful.

When the demands of industry are found to press upon the resources of
inventors, the same idea is usually found floating about in many
minds;--such has been the case with the steam-engine, the safety- lamp, the
electric telegraph, and other inventions. Many ingenious minds are found
labouring in the throes of invention, until at length the master mind, the
CHAPTER II 28

strong practical man, steps forward, and straightway delivers them of their
idea, applies the principle successfully, and the thing is done. Then there is
a loud outcry among all the smaller contrivers, who see themselves
distanced in the race; and hence men such as Watt, Stephenson, and
Arkwright, have usually to defend their reputation and their rights as
practical and successful inventors.

Richard Arkwright, like most of our great mechanicians, sprang from the
ranks. He was born in Preston in 1732. His parents were very poor, and he
was the youngest of thirteen children. He was never at school: the only
education he received he gave to himself; and to the last he was only able to
write with difficulty. When a boy, he was apprenticed to a barber, and after
learning the business, he set up for himself in Bolton, where he occupied an
underground cellar, over which he put up the sign, "Come to the
subterraneous barber--he shaves for a penny." The other barbers found their
customers leaving them, and reduced their prices to his standard, when
Arkwright, determined to push his trade, announced his determination to
give "A clean shave for a halfpenny." After a few years he quitted his
cellar, and became an itinerant dealer in hair. At that time wigs were worn,
and wig-making formed an important branch of the barbering business.
Arkwright went about buying hair for the wigs. He was accustomed to
attend the hiring fairs throughout Lancashire resorted to by young women,
for the purpose of securing their long tresses; and it is said that in
negotiations of this sort he was very successful. He also dealt in a chemical
hair dye, which he used adroitly, and thereby secured a considerable trade.
But he does not seem, notwithstanding his pushing character, to have done
more than earn a bare living.

The fashion of wig-wearing having undergone a change, distress fell upon
the wig-makers; and Arkwright, being of a mechanical turn, was
consequently induced to turn machine inventor or "conjurer," as the pursuit
was then popularly termed. Many attempts were made about that time to
invent a spinning-machine, and our barber determined to launch his little
bark on the sea of invention with the rest. Like other self-taught men of the
same bias, he had already been devoting his spare time to the invention of a
perpetual-motion machine; and from that the transition to a
CHAPTER II 29

spinning-machine was easy. He followed his experiments so assiduously
that he neglected his business, lost the little money he had saved, and was
reduced to great poverty. His wife--for he had by this time married--was
impatient at what she conceived to be a wanton waste of time and money,
and in a moment of sudden wrath she seized upon and destroyed his
models, hoping thus to remove the cause of the family privations.
Arkwright was a stubborn and enthusiastic man, and he was provoked
beyond measure by this conduct of his wife, from whom he immediately
separated.

In travelling about the country, Arkwright had become acquainted with a
person named Kay, a clockmaker at Warrington, who assisted him in
constructing some of the parts of his perpetual-motion machinery. It is
supposed that he was informed by Kay of the principle of spinning by
rollers; but it is also said that the idea was first suggested to him by
accidentally observing a red-hot piece of iron become elongated by passing
between iron rollers. However this may be, the idea at once took firm
possession of his mind, and he proceeded to devise the process by which it
was to be accomplished, Kay being able to tell him nothing on this point.
Arkwright now abandoned his business of hair collecting, and devoted
himself to the perfecting of his machine, a model of which, constructed by
Kay under his directions, he set up in the parlour of the Free Grammar
School at Preston. Being a burgess of the town, he voted at the contested
election at which General Burgoyne was returned; but such was his
poverty, and such the tattered state of his dress, that a number of persons
subscribed a sum sufficient to have him put in a state fit to appear in the
poll-room. The exhibition of his machine in a town where so many
workpeople lived by the exercise of manual labour proved a dangerous
experiment; ominous growlings were heard outside the school-room from
time to time, and Arkwright,--remembering the fate of Kay, who was
mobbed and compelled to fly from Lancashire because of his invention of
the fly-shuttle, and of poor Hargreaves, whose spinning-jenny had been
pulled to pieces only a short time before by a Blackburn mob,- -wisely
determined on packing up his model and removing to a less dangerous
locality. He went accordingly to Nottingham, where he applied to some of
the local bankers for pecuniary assistance; and the Messrs. Wright
CHAPTER II 30

consented to advance him a sum of money on condition of sharing in the
profits of the invention. The machine, however, not being perfected so soon
as they had anticipated, the bankers recommended Arkwright to apply to
Messrs. Strutt and Need, the former of whom was the ingenious inventor
and patentee of the stocking-frame. Mr. Strutt at once appreciated the
merits of the invention, and a partnership was entered into with Arkwright,
whose road to fortune was now clear. The patent was secured in the name
of "Richard Arkwright, of Nottingham, clockmaker," and it is a
circumstance worthy of note, that it was taken out in 1769, the same year in
which Watt secured the patent for his steam-engine. A cotton-mill was first
erected at Nottingham, driven by horses; and another was shortly after
built, on a much larger scale, at Cromford, in Derbyshire, turned by a
water-wheel, from which circumstance the spinning-machine came to be
called the water- frame.

Arkwright's labours, however, were, comparatively speaking, only begun.
He had still to perfect all the working details of his machine. It was in his
hands the subject of constant modification and improvement, until
eventually it was rendered practicable and profitable in an eminent degree.
But success was only secured by long and patient labour: for some years,
indeed, the speculation was disheartening and unprofitable, swallowing up
a very large amount of capital without any result. When success began to
appear more certain, then the Lancashire manufacturers fell upon
Arkwright's patent to pull it in pieces, as the Cornish miners fell upon
Boulton and Watt to rob them of the profits of their steam- engine.
Arkwright was even denounced as the enemy of the working people; and a
mill which he built near Chorley was destroyed by a mob in the presence of
a strong force of police and military. The Lancashire men refused to buy
his materials, though they were confessedly the best in the market. Then
they refused to pay patent-right for the use of his machines, and combined
to crush him in the courts of law. To the disgust of right-minded people,
Arkwright's patent was upset. After the trial, when passing the hotel at
which his opponents were staying, one of them said, loud enough to be
heard by him, "Well, we've done the old shaver at last;" to which he coolly
replied, "Never mind, I've a razor left that will shave you all." He
established new mills in Lancashire, Derbyshire, and at New Lanark, in
CHAPTER II 31

Scotland. The mills at Cromford also came into his hands at the expiry of
his partnership with Strutt, and the amount and the excellence of his
products were such, that in a short time he obtained so complete a control
of the trade, that the prices were fixed by him, and he governed the main
operations of the other cotton-spinners.

Arkwright was a man of great force of character, indomitable courage,
much worldly shrewdness, with a business faculty almost amounting to
genius. At one period his time was engrossed by severe and continuous
labour, occasioned by the organising and conducting of his numerous
manufactories, sometimes from four in the morning till nine at night. At
fifty years of age he set to work to learn English grammar, and improve
himself in writing and orthography. After overcoming every obstacle, he
had the satisfaction of reaping the reward of his enterprise. Eighteen years
after he had constructed his first machine, he rose to such estimation in
Derbyshire that he was appointed High Sheriff of the county, and shortly
after George III. conferred upon him the honour of knighthood. He died in
1792. Be it for good or for evil, Arkwright was the founder in England of
the modern factory system, a branch of industry which has unquestionably
proved a source of immense wealth to individuals and to the nation.

All the other great branches of industry in Britain furnish like examples of
energetic men of business, the source of much benefit to the
neighbourhoods in which they have laboured, and of 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, Ashworths, Birleys, Fieldens, Ashtons, Heywoods, and Ainsworths
of South Lancashire, some of whose descendants have since become
distinguished in connection with the political history of England. Such
pre-eminently were 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 removed to a house situated in Fish Lane in that town.
Robert Peel, as he advanced in life, saw a large family of sons and
daughters growing up about him; but the land about Blackburn being
CHAPTER II 32

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
greys," consisting of linen weft and cotton warp, being chiefly made in that
town and its neighbourhood. It was then customary--previous to the
introduction of the factory system--for industrious 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-making. He was
honest, and made an honest article; thrifty and hardworking, and his trade
prospered. He was also enterprising, and was one of the first to adopt the
carding cylinder, then recently invented.

But Robert Peel's attention was principally directed to the PRINTING of
calico--then a comparatively unknown art--and for some time he carried on
a series of experiments 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 colour. 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 colour 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 neighbourhood of Blackburn to
this day as "Parsley 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, who were as energetic as himself, he successfully carried on the
trade for several years; and as the young men grew up towards manhood,
CHAPTER II 33

the concern branched out into various firms of Peels, each of which became
a centre of industrial activity and a source of remunerative employment to
large numbers of people.

From what can now be learnt of the character of the original and untitled
Robert Peel, he must have been a remarkable man--shrewd, sagacious, and
far-seeing. But little is known of him excepting from traditions and the sons
of those who knew him are fast passing away. His son, Sir Robert, thus
modestly spoke of him:- "My father may be truly said to have been the
founder of our family; and he so accurately appreciated the importance of
commercial wealth in a national point of view, that he was often heard to
say that the gains to individuals 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 enterprise, 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 arising 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 from his father, on his
own account. His uncle, James Haworth, and William Yates of Blackburn,
joined him in his enterprise; the whole capital which they could raise
amongst them amounting to only about 500l., the principal part of which
was supplied by William Yates. The father of the latter was a householder
in Blackburn, where he was well known and much respected; 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 an old head on young 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 continued 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 year 1770, adding to it that of cotton-spinning a few years later. The
CHAPTER II 34

frugal style in which the partners lived may be inferred from the following
incident in their early career. William Yates, being a married man with a
family, commenced housekeeping 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 8s. 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 compromised 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 favourite with the young lodger. On
returning from his hard day's work at "The Ground," he would take the little
girl upon his knee, and say to her, "Nelly, thou bonny little dear, wilt be my
wife?" to which the child would readily answer "Yes," as any child would
do. "Then I'll wait for thee, Nelly; I'll wed thee, and none else." And Robert
Peel did wait. As the girl grew in beauty towards womanhood, his
determination to wait for her was strengthened; 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 completed her
seventeenth year; and the pretty child, whom 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 afterwards used to
say, "if Robert hadn't made our Nelly a 'Lady,' she might ha' been living
yet."

The career of Yates, Peel, & 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
CHAPTER II 35

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 secured the command of the
market, and the character of the firm stood pre-eminent in Lancashire.
Besides greatly benefiting Bury, the partnership planted similar extensive
works in the neighbourhood, on the Irwell and the Roch; and it was cited to
their honour, that, while they sought to raise to the highest perfection the
quality of their manufactures, they also endeavoured, in all ways, to
promote the well-being and comfort of their workpeople; for whom they
contrived to provide remunerative employment even in the least prosperous
times.

Sir Robert Peel readily appreciated the value of all new processes and
inventions; in illustration of which we may allude to his adoption of the
process for producing what is called RESIST WORK in calico printing.
This is accomplished by the use of a paste, or resist, on such parts of the
cloth as were intended to remain white. The person who discovered the
paste was a traveller for a London house, who sold it to Mr. Peel for an
inconsiderable sum. It required the experience of a year or two to perfect
the system and make it practically useful; but the beauty of its effect, and
the extreme precision of outline in the pattern produced, at once placed the
Bury establishment at the head of all the factories for calico printing in the
country. Other firms, conducted with like spirit, were established by
members of the same family at Burnley, Foxhill bank, and Altham, in
Lancashire; Salley Abbey, in Yorkshire; and afterwards at Burton-on-Trent,
in Staffordshire; these various establishments, whilst they brought wealth to
their proprietors, setting an example to the whole cotton trade, and training
up many of the most successful printers and manufacturers in Lancashire.

Among other distinguished founders of industry, the Rev. William Lee,
inventor of the Stocking Frame, and John Heathcoat, inventor of the
Bobbin-net Machine, are worthy of notice, as men of great mechanical skill
and perseverance, through whose labours a vast amount of remunerative
employment has been provided for the labouring population of Nottingham
CHAPTER II 36

and the adjacent districts. The accounts which have been preserved of the
circumstances connected with the invention of the Stocking Frame are very
confused, and in many respects contradictory, though there is no doubt as
to the name of the inventor. This was William Lee, born at Woodborough,
a village some seven miles from Nottingham, about the year 1563.
According to some accounts, he was the heir to a small freehold, while
according to others he was a poor scholar, {6} and had to struggle with
poverty from his earliest years. He entered as a sizar at Christ College,
Cambridge, in May, 1579, and subsequently removed to St. John's, taking
his degree of B.A. in 1582-3. It is believed that he commenced M.A. in
1586; but on this point there appears to be some confusion in the records of
the University. The statement usually made that he was expelled for
marrying contrary to the statutes, is incorrect, as he was never a Fellow of
the University, and therefore could not be prejudiced by taking such a step.

At the time when Lee invented the Stocking Frame he was officiating as
curate of Calverton, near Nottingham; and it is alleged by some writers that
the invention had its origin in disappointed affection. The curate is said to
have fallen deeply in love with a young lady of the village, who failed to
reciprocate his affections; and when he visited her, she was accustomed to
pay much more attention to the process of knitting stockings and instructing
her pupils in the art, than to the addresses of her admirer. This slight is said
to have created in his mind such an aversion to knitting by hand, that he
formed the determination to invent a machine that should supersede it and
render it a gainless employment. For three years he devoted himself to the
prosecution of the invention, sacrificing everything to his new idea. At the
prospect of success opened before him, he abandoned his curacy, and
devoted himself to the art of stocking making by machinery. This is the
version of the story given by Henson {7} on the authority of an old
stocking-maker, who died in Collins's Hospital, Nottingham, aged
ninety-two, and was apprenticed in the town during the reign of Queen
Anne. It is also given by Deering and Blackner as the traditional account in
the neighbourhood, and it is in some measure borne out by the arms of the
London Company of Frame-Work Knitters, which consists of a stocking
frame without the wood-work, with a clergyman on one side and a woman
on the other as supporters. {8}
CHAPTER II 37

Whatever may have been the actual facts as to the origin of the invention of
the Stocking Loom, there can be no doubt as to the extraordinary
mechanical genius displayed by its inventor. That a clergyman living in a
remote village, whose life had for the most part been spent with books,
should contrive a machine of such delicate and complicated movements,
and at once advance the art of knitting from the tedious process of linking
threads in a chain of loops by three skewers in the fingers of a woman, to
the beautiful and rapid process of weaving by the stocking frame, was
indeed an astonishing achievement, which may be pronounced almost
unequalled in the history of mechanical invention. Lee's merit was all the
greater, as the handicraft arts were then in their infancy, and little attention
had as yet been given to the contrivance of machinery for the purposes of
manufacture. He was under the necessity of extemporising the parts of his
machine as he best could, and adopting various expedients to overcome
difficulties as they arose. His tools were imperfect, and his materials
imperfect; and he had no skilled workmen to assist him. According to
tradition, the first frame he made was a twelve gauge, without lead sinkers,
and it was almost wholly of wood; the needles being also stuck in bits of
wood. One of Lee's principal difficulties consisted in the formation of the
stitch, for want of needle eyes; but this he eventually overcame by forming
eyes to the needles with a three-square file. {9} At length, one difficulty
after another was successfully overcome, and after three years' labour the
machine was sufficiently complete to be fit for use. The quondam curate,
full of enthusiasm for his art, now began stocking weaving in the village of
Calverton, and he continued to work there for several years, instructing his
brother James and several of his relations in the practice of the art.

Having brought his frame to a considerable degree of perfection, and being
desirous of securing the patronage of Queen Elizabeth, whose partiality for
knitted silk stockings was well known, Lee proceeded to London to exhibit
the loom before her Majesty. He first showed it to several members of the
court, among others to Sir William (afterwards Lord) Hunsdon, whom he
taught to work it with success; and Lee was, through their instrumentality,
at length admitted to an interview with the Queen, and worked the machine
in her presence. Elizabeth, however, did not give him the encouragement
that he had expected; and she is said to have opposed the invention on the
CHAPTER II 38

ground that it was calculated to deprive a large number of poor people of
their employment of hand knitting. Lee was no more successful in finding
other patrons, and considering himself and his invention treated with
contempt, he embraced the offer made to him by Sully, the sagacious
minister of Henry IV., to proceed to Rouen and instruct the operatives of
that town--then one of the most important manufacturing centres of
France--in the construction and use of the stocking-frame. Lee accordingly
transferred himself and his machines to France, in 1605, taking with him
his brother and seven workmen. He met with a cordial reception at Rouen,
and was proceeding with the manufacture of stockings on a large
scale--having nine of his frames in full work,--when unhappily ill fortune
again overtook him. Henry IV., his protector, on whom he had relied for the
rewards, honours, and promised grant of privileges, which had induced Lee
to settle in France, was murdered by the fanatic Ravaillac; and the
encouragement and protection which had heretofore been extended to him
were at once withdrawn. To press his claims at court, Lee proceeded to
Paris; but being a protestant as well as a foreigner, his representations were
treated with neglect; and worn out with vexation and grief, this
distinguished inventor shortly after died at Paris, in a state of extreme
poverty and distress.

Lee's brother, with seven of the workmen, succeeded in escaping from
France with their frames, leaving two behind. On James Lee's return to
Nottinghamshire, he was joined by one Ashton, a miller of Thoroton, who
had been instructed in the art of frame-work knitting by the inventor
himself before he left England. These two, with the workmen and their
frames, began the stocking manufacture at Thoroton, and carried it on with
considerable success. The place was favourably situated for the purpose, as
the sheep pastured in the neighbouring district of Sherwood yielded a kind
of wool of the longest staple. Ashton is said to have introduced the method
of making the frames with lead sinkers, which was a great improvement.
The number of looms employed in different parts of England gradually
increased; and the machine manufacture of stockings eventually became an
important branch of the national industry.
CHAPTER II 39

One of the most important modifications in the Stocking-Frame was that
which enabled it to be applied to the manufacture of lace on a large scale.
In 1777, two workmen, Frost and Holmes, were both engaged in making
point-net by means of the modifications they had introduced in the
stocking-frame; and in the course of about thirty years, so rapid was the
growth of this branch of production that 1500 point-net frames were at
work, giving employment to upwards of 15,000 people. Owing, however,
to the war, to change of fashion, and to other circumstances, the
Nottingham lace manufacture rapidly fell off; and it continued in a
decaying state until the invention of the Bobbin-net Machine by John
Heathcoat, late M.P. for Tiverton, which had the effect of at once
re-establishing the manufacture on solid foundations.

John Heathcoat was the youngest son of a respectable small farmer at
Duffield, Derbyshire, where he was born in 1783. When at school he made
steady and rapid progress, but was early removed from it to be apprenticed
to a frame-smith near Loughborough. The boy soon learnt to handle tools
with dexterity, and he acquired a minute knowledge of the parts of which
the stocking-frame was composed, as well as of the more intricate
warp-machine. At his leisure he studied how to introduce improvements in
them, and his friend, Mr. Bazley, M.P., states that as early as the age of
sixteen, he conceived the idea of inventing a machine by which lace might
be made similar to Buckingham or French lace, then all made by hand. The
first practical improvement he succeeded in introducing was in the
warp-frame, when, by means of an ingenious apparatus, he succeeded in
producing "mitts" of a lacy appearance, and it was this success which
determined him to pursue the study of mechanical lace-making. The
stocking-frame had already, in a modified form, been applied to the
manufacture of point-net lace, in which the mesh was LOOPED as in a
stocking, but the work was slight and frail, and therefore unsatisfactory.
Many ingenious Nottingham mechanics had, during a long succession of
years, been labouring at the problem of inventing a machine by which the
mesh of threads should be TWISTED round each other on the formation of
the net. Some of these men died in poverty, some were driven insane, and
all alike failed in the object of their search. The old warp-machine held its
ground.
CHAPTER II 40

When a little over twenty-one years of age, Heathcoat went to Nottingham,
where he readily found employment, for which he soon received the
highest remuneration, as a setter-up of hosiery and warp-frames, and was
much respected for his talent for invention, general intelligence, and the
sound and sober principles that governed his conduct. He also continued to
pursue the subject on which his mind had before been occupied, and
laboured to compass the contrivance of a twist traverse-net machine. He
first studied the art of making the Buckingham or pillow-lace by hand, with
the object of effecting the same motions by mechanical means. It was a
long and laborious task, requiring the exercise of great perseverance and
ingenuity. His master, Elliot, described him at that time as inventive,
patient, self-denying, and taciturn, undaunted by failures and mistakes, full
of resources and expedients, and entertaining the most perfect confidence
that his application of mechanical principles would eventually be crowned
with success.

It is difficult to describe in words an invention so complicated as the
bobbin-net machine. It was, indeed, a mechanical pillow for making lace,
imitating in an ingenious manner the motions of the lace-maker's fingers in
intersecting or tying the meshes of the lace upon her pillow. On analysing
the component parts of a piece of hand-made lace, Heathcoat was enabled
to classify the threads into longitudinal and diagonal. He began his
experiments by fixing common pack-threads lengthwise on a sort of frame
for the warp, and then passing the weft threads between them by common
plyers, delivering them to other plyers on the opposite side; then, after
giving them a sideways motion and twist, the threads were repassed back
between the next adjoining cords, the meshes being thus tied in the same
way as upon pillows by hand. He had then to contrive a mechanism that
should accomplish all these nice and delicate movements, and to do this
cost him no small amount of mental toil. Long after he said, "The single
difficulty of getting the diagonal threads to twist in the allotted space was
so great that if it had now to be done, I should probably not attempt its
accomplishment." His next step was to provide thin metallic discs, to be
used as bobbins for conducting the threads backwards and forwards
through the warp. These discs, being arranged in carrier-frames placed on
each side of the warp, were moved by suitable machinery so as to conduct
CHAPTER II 41

the threads from side to side in forming the lace. He eventually succeeded
in working out his principle with extraordinary skill and success; and, at the
age of twenty-four, he was enabled to secure his invention by a patent.

During this time his wife was kept in almost as great anxiety as himself, for
she well knew of his trials and difficulties while he was striving to perfect
his invention. Many years after they had been successfully overcome, the
conversation which took place one eventful evening was vividly
remembered. "Well," said the anxious wife, "will it work?" "No," was the
sad answer; "I have had to take it all to pieces again." Though he could still
speak hopefully and cheerfully, his poor wife could restrain her feelings no
longer, but sat down and cried bitterly. She had, however, only a few more
weeks to wait, for success long laboured for and richly deserved, came at
last, and a proud and happy man was John Heathcoat when he brought
home the first narrow strip of bobbin-net made by his machine, and placed
it in the hands of his wife.

As in the case of nearly all inventions which have proved productive,
Heathcoat's rights as a patentee were disputed, and his claims as an inventor
called in question. On the supposed invalidity of the patent, the lace-makers
boldly adopted the bobbin-net machine, and set the inventor at defiance.
But other patents were taken out for alleged improvements and adaptations;
and it was only when these new patentees fell out and went to law with
each other that Heathcoat's rights became established. One
lace-manufacturer having brought an action against another for an alleged
infringement of his patent, the jury brought in a verdict for the defendant, in
which the judge concurred, on the ground that BOTH the machines in
question were infringements of Heathcoat's patent. It was on the occasion
of this trial, "Boville v. Moore," that Sir John Copley (afterwards Lord
Lyndhurst), who was retained for the defence in the interest of Mr.
Heathcoat, learnt to work the bobbin-net machine in order that he might
master the details of the invention. On reading over his brief, he confessed
that he did not quite understand the merits of the case; but as it seemed to
him to be one of great importance, he offered to go down into the country
forthwith and study the machine until he understood it; "and then," said he,
"I will defend you to the best of my ability." He accordingly put himself
CHAPTER II 42

into that night's mail, and went down to Nottingham to get up his case as
perhaps counsel never got it up before. Next morning the learned sergeant
placed himself in a lace-loom, and he did not leave it until he could deftly
make a piece of bobbin-net with his own hands, and thoroughly understood
the principle as well as the details of the machine. When the case came on
for trial, the learned sergeant was enabled to work the model on the table
with such case and skill, and to explain the precise nature of the invention
with such felicitous clearness, as to astonish alike judge, jury, and
spectators; and the thorough conscientiousness and mastery with which he
handled the case had no doubt its influence upon the decision of the court.

After the trial was over, Mr. Heathcoat, on inquiry, found about six
hundred machines at work after his patent, and he proceeded to levy royalty
upon the owners of them, which amounted to a large sum. But the profits
realised by the manufacturers of lace were very great, and the use of the
machines rapidly extended; while the price of the article was reduced from
five pounds the square yard to about five pence in the course of twenty-five
years. During the same period the average annual returns of the lace-trade
have been at least four millions sterling, and it gives remunerative
employment to about 150,000 workpeople.

To return to the personal history of Mr. Heathcoat. In 1809 we find him
established as a lace-manufacturer at Loughborough, in Leicestershire.
There he carried on a prosperous business for several years, giving
employment to a large number of operatives, at wages varying from 5l. to
10l. a week. Notwithstanding the great increase in the number of hands
employed in lace-making through the introduction of the new machines, it
began to be whispered about among the workpeople that they were
superseding labour, and an extensive conspiracy was formed for the
purpose of destroying them wherever found. As early as the year 1811
disputes arose between the masters and men engaged in the stocking and
lace trades in the south-western parts of Nottinghamshire and the adjacent
parts of Derbyshire and Leicestershire, the result of which was the
assembly of a mob at Sutton, in Ashfield, who proceeded in open day to
break the stocking and lace-frames of the manufacturers. Some of the
ringleaders having been seized and punished, the disaffected learnt caution;
CHAPTER II 43

but the destruction of the machines was nevertheless carried on secretly
wherever a safe opportunity presented itself. As the machines were of so
delicate a construction that a single blow of a hammer rendered them
useless, and as the manufacture was carried on for the most part in detached
buildings, often in private dwellings remote from towns, the opportunities
of destroying them were unusually easy. In the neighbourhood of
Nottingham, which was the focus of turbulence, the machine-breakers
organized themselves in regular bodies, and held nocturnal meetings at
which their plans were arranged. Probably with the view of inspiring
confidence, they gave out that they were under the command of a leader
named Ned Ludd, or General Ludd, and hence their designation of
Luddites. Under this organization machine-breaking was carried on with
great vigour during the winter of 1811, occasioning great distress, and
throwing large numbers of workpeople out of employment. Meanwhile, the
owners of the frames proceeded to remove them from the villages and lone
dwellings in the country, and brought them into warehouses in the towns
for their better protection.

The Luddites seem to have been encouraged by the lenity of the sentences
pronounced on such of their confederates as had been apprehended and
tried; and, shortly after, the mania broke out afresh, and rapidly extended
over the northern and midland manufacturing districts. The organization
became more secret; an oath was administered to the members binding
them to obedience to the orders issued by the heads of the confederacy; and
the betrayal of their designs was decreed to be death. All machines were
doomed by them to destruction, whether employed in the manufacture of
cloth, calico, or lace; and a reign of terror began which lasted for years. In
Yorkshire and Lancashire mills were boldly attacked by armed rioters, and
in many cases they were wrecked or burnt; so that it became necessary to
guard them by soldiers and yeomanry. The masters themselves were
doomed to death; many of them were assaulted, and some were murdered.
At length the law was vigorously set in motion; numbers of the misguided
Luddites were apprehended; some were executed; and after several years'
violent commotion from this cause, the machine-breaking riots were at
length quelled.
CHAPTER II 44

Among the numerous manufacturers whose works were attacked by the
Luddites, was the inventor of the bobbin-net machine himself. One bright
sunny day, in the summer of 1816, a body of rioters entered his factory at
Loughborough with torches, and set fire to it, destroying thirty-seven
lace-machines, and above 10,000l. worth of property. Ten of the men were
apprehended for the felony, and eight of them were executed. Mr.
Heathcoat made a claim upon the county for compensation, and it was
resisted; but the Court of Queen's Bench decided in his favour, and decreed
that the county must make good his loss of 10,000l. The magistrates sought
to couple with the payment of the damage the condition that Mr. Heathcoat
should expend the money in the county of Leicester; but to this he would
not assent, having already resolved on removing his manufacture
elsewhere. At Tiverton, in Devonshire, he found a large building which had
been formerly used as a woollen manufactory; but the Tiverton cloth trade
having fallen into decay, the building remained unoccupied, and the town
itself was generally in a very poverty-stricken condition. Mr. Heathcoat
bought the old mill, renovated and enlarged it, and there recommenced the
manufacture of lace upon a larger scale than before; keeping in full work as
many as three hundred machines, and employing a large number of artisans
at good wages. Not only did he carry on the manufacture of lace, but the
various branches of business connected with it--yarn-doubling,
silk-spinning, net-making, and finishing. He also established at Tiverton an
iron-foundry and works for the manufacture of agricultural implements,
which proved of great convenience to the district. It was a favourite idea of
his that steam power was capable of being applied to perform all the heavy
drudgery of life, and he laboured for a long time at the invention of a
steam-plough. In 1832 he so far completed his invention as to be enabled to
take out a patent for it; and Heathcoat's steam- plough, though it has since
been superseded by Fowler's, was considered the best machine of the kind
that had up to that time been invented.

Mr. Heathcoat was a man of great natural gifts. He possessed a sound
understanding, quick perception, and a genius for business of the highest
order. With these he combined uprightness, honesty, and integrity--qualities
which are the true glory of human character. Himself a diligent
self-educator, he gave ready encouragement to deserving youths in his
CHAPTER II 45

employment, stimulating their talents and fostering their energies. During
his own busy life, he contrived to save time to master French and Italian, of
which he acquired an accurate and grammatical knowledge. His mind was
largely stored with the results of a careful study of the best literature, and
there were few subjects on which he had not formed for himself shrewd and
accurate views. The two thousand workpeople in his employment regarded
him almost as a father, and he carefully provided for their comfort and
improvement. Prosperity did not spoil him, as it does so many; nor close his
heart against the claims of the poor and struggling, who were always sure
of his sympathy and help. To provide for the education of the children of
his workpeople, he built schools for them at a cost of about 6000l. He was
also a man of singularly cheerful and buoyant disposition, a favourite with
men of all classes and most admired and beloved by those who knew him
best.

In 1831 the electors of Tiverton, of which town Mr. Heathcoat had proved
himself so genuine a benefactor, returned him to represent them in
Parliament, and he continued their member for nearly thirty years. During a
great part of that time he had Lord Palmerston for his colleague, and the
noble lord, on more than one public occasion, expressed the high regard
which he entertained for his venerable friend. On retiring from the
representation in 1859, owing to advancing age and increasing infirmities,
thirteen hundred of his workmen presented him with a silver inkstand and
gold pen, in token of their esteem. He enjoyed his leisure for only two more
years, dying in January, 1861, at the age of seventy-seven, and leaving
behind him a character for probity, virtue, manliness, and mechanical
genius, of which his descendants may well be proud.

We next turn to a career of a very different kind, that of the illustrious but
unfortunate Jacquard, whose life also illustrates in a remarkable manner the
influence which ingenious men, even of the humblest rank, may exercise
upon the industry of a nation. Jacquard was the son of a hard-working
couple of Lyons, his father being a weaver, and his mother a pattern reader.
They were too poor to give him any but the most meagre education. When
he was of age to learn a trade, his father placed him with a book-binder. An
old clerk, who made up the master's accounts, gave Jacquard some lessons
CHAPTER II 46

in mathematics. He very shortly began to display a remarkable turn for
mechanics, and some of his contrivances quite astonished the old clerk,
who advised Jacquard's father to put him to some other trade, in which his
peculiar abilities might have better scope than in bookbinding. He was
accordingly put apprentice to a cutler; but was so badly treated by his
master, that he shortly afterwards left his employment, on which he was
placed with a type-founder.

His parents dying, Jacquard found himself in a measure compelled to take
to his father's two looms, and carry on the trade of a weaver. He
immediately proceeded to improve the looms, and became so engrossed
with his inventions that he forgot his work, and very soon found himself at
the end of his means. He then sold the looms to pay his debts, at the same
time that he took upon himself the burden of supporting a wife. He became
still poorer, and to satisfy his creditors, he next sold his cottage. He tried to
find employment, but in vain, people believing him to be an idler, occupied
with mere dreams about his inventions. At length he obtained employment
with a line-maker of Bresse, whither he went, his wife remaining at Lyons,
earning a precarious living by making straw bonnets.

We hear nothing further of Jacquard for some years, but in the interval he
seems to have prosecuted his improvement in the drawloom for the better
manufacture of figured fabrics; for, in 1790, he brought out his contrivance
for selecting the warp threads, which, when added to the loom, superseded
the services of a draw-boy. The adoption of this machine was slow but
steady, and in ten years after its introduction, 4000 of them were found at
work in Lyons. Jacquard's pursuits were rudely interrupted by the
Revolution, and, in 1792, we find him fighting in the ranks of the
Lyonnaise Volunteers against the Army of the Convention under the
command of Dubois Crance. The city was taken; Jacquard fled and joined
the Army of the Rhine, where he rose to the rank of sergeant. He might
have remained a soldier, but that, his only son having been shot dead at his
side, he deserted and returned to Lyons to recover his wife. He found her in
a garret still employed at her old trade of straw-bonnet making. While
living in concealment with her, his mind reverted to the inventions over
which he had so long brooded in former years; but he had no means
CHAPTER II 47

wherewith to prosecute them. Jacquard found it necessary, however, to
emerge from his hiding-place and try to find some employment. He
succeeded in obtaining it with an intelligent manufacturer, and while
working by day he went on inventing by night. It had occurred to him that
great improvements might still be introduced in looms for figured goods,
and he incidentally mentioned the subject one day to his master, regretting
at the same time that his limited means prevented him from carrying out his
ideas. Happily his master appreciated the value of the suggestions, and with
laudable generosity placed a sum of money at his disposal, that he might
prosecute the proposed improvements at his leisure.

In three months Jacquard had invented a loom to substitute mechanical
action for the irksome and toilsome labour of the workman. The loom was
exhibited at the Exposition of National Industry at Paris in 1801, and
obtained a bronze medal. Jacquard was further honoured by a visit at Lyons
from the Minister Carnot, who desired to congratulate him in person on the
success of his invention. In the following year the Society of Arts in
London offered a prize for the invention of a machine for manufacturing
fishing-nets and boarding-netting for ships. Jacquard heard of this, and
while walking one day in the fields according to his custom, he turned the
subject over in his mind, and contrived the plan of a machine for the
purpose. His friend, the manufacturer, again furnished him with the means
of carrying out his idea, and in three weeks Jacquard had completed his
invention.

Jacquard's achievement having come to the knowledge of the Prefect of the
Department, he was summoned before that functionary, and, on his
explanation of the working of the machine, a report on the subject was
forwarded to the Emperor. The inventor was forthwith summoned to Paris
with his machine, and brought into the presence of the Emperor, who
received him with the consideration due to his genius. The interview lasted
two hours, during which Jacquard, placed at his ease by the Emperor's
affability, explained to him the improvements which he proposed to make
in the looms for weaving figured goods. The result was, that he was
provided with apartments in the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers, where
he had the use of the workshop during his stay, and was provided with a
CHAPTER II 48

suitable allowance for his maintenance.

Installed in the Conservatoire, Jacquard proceeded to complete the details
of his improved loom. He had the advantage of minutely inspecting the
various exquisite pieces of mechanism contained in that great treasury of
human ingenuity. Among the machines which more particularly attracted
his attention, and eventually set him upon the track of his discovery, was a
loom for weaving flowered silk, made by Vaucanson the celebrated
automaton-maker.

Vaucanson was a man of the highest order of constructive genius. The
inventive faculty was so strong in him that it may almost be said to have
amounted to a passion, and could not be restrained. The saying that the poet
is born, not made, applies with equal force to the inventor, who, though
indebted, like the other, to culture and improved opportunities, nevertheless
contrives and constructs new combinations of machinery mainly to gratify
his own instinct. This was peculiarly the case with Vaucanson; for his most
elaborate works were not so much distinguished for their utility as for the
curious ingenuity which they displayed. While a mere boy attending
Sunday conversations with his mother, he amused himself by watching,
through the chinks of a partition wall, part of the movements of a clock in
the adjoining apartment. He endeavoured to understand them, and by
brooding over the subject, after several months he discovered the principle
of the escapement.

From that time the subject of mechanical invention took complete
possession of him. With some rude tools which he contrived, he made a
wooden clock that marked the hours with remarkable exactness; while he
made for a miniature chapel the figures of some angels which waved their
wings, and some priests that made several ecclesiastical movements. With
the view of executing some other automata he had designed, he proceeded
to study anatomy, music, and mechanics, which occupied him for several
years. The sight of the Flute-player in the Gardens of the Tuileries inspired
him with the resolution to invent a similar figure that should PLAY; and
after several years' study and labour, though struggling with illness, he
succeeded in accomplishing his object. He next produced a
CHAPTER II 49

Flageolet-player, which was succeeded by a Duck--the most ingenious of
his contrivances,--which swam, dabbled, drank, and quacked like a real
duck. He next invented an asp, employed in the tragedy of 'Cleopatre,'
which hissed and darted at the bosom of the actress.

Vaucanson, however, did not confine himself merely to the making of
automata. By reason of his ingenuity, Cardinal de Fleury appointed him
inspector of the silk manufactories of France; and he was no sooner in
office, than with his usual irrepressible instinct to invent, he proceeded to
introduce improvements in silk machinery. One of these was his mill for
thrown silk, which so excited the anger of the Lyons operatives, who feared
the loss of employment through its means, that they pelted him with stones
and had nearly killed him. He nevertheless went on inventing, and next
produced a machine for weaving flowered silks, with a contrivance for
giving a dressing to the thread, so as to render that of each bobbin or skein
of an equal thickness.

When Vaucanson died in 1782, after a long illness, he bequeathed his
collection of machines to the Queen, who seems to have set but small value
on them, and they were shortly after dispersed. But his machine for
weaving flowered silks was happily preserved in the Conservatoire des Arts
et Metiers, and there Jacquard found it among the many curious and
interesting articles in the collection. It proved of the utmost value to him,
for it immediately set him on the track of the principal modification which
he introduced in his improved loom.

One of the chief features of Vaucanson's machine was a pierced cylinder
which, according to the holes it presented when revolved, regulated the
movement of certain needles, and caused the threads of the warp to deviate
in such a manner as to produce a given design, though only of a simple
character. Jacquard seized upon the suggestion with avidity, and, with the
genius of the true inventor, at once proceeded to improve upon it. At the
end of a month his weaving-machine was completed. To the cylinder of
Vancanson, he added an endless piece of pasteboard pierced with a number
of holes, through which the threads of the warp were presented to the
weaver; while another piece of mechanism indicated to the workman the
CHAPTER II 50

colour of the shuttle which he ought to throw. Thus the drawboy and the
reader of designs were both at once superseded. The first use Jacquard
made of his new loom was to weave with it several yards of rich stuff
which he presented to the Empress Josephine. Napoleon was highly
gratified with the result of the inventor's labours, and ordered a number of
the looms to be constructed by the best workmen, after Jacquard's model,
and presented to him; after which he returned to Lyons.

There he experienced the frequent fate of inventors. He was regarded by his
townsmen as an enemy, and treated by them as Kay, Hargreaves, and
Arkwright had been in Lancashire. The workmen looked upon the new
loom as fatal to their trade, and feared lest it should at once take the bread
from their mouths. A tumultuous meeting was held on the Place des
Terreaux, when it was determined to destroy the machines. This was
however prevented by the military. But Jacquard was denounced and
hanged in effigy. The 'Conseil des prud'hommes' in vain endeavoured to
allay the excitement, and they were themselves denounced. At length,
carried away by the popular impulse, the prud'hommes, most of whom had
been workmen and sympathized with the class, had one of Jacquard's looms
carried off and publicly broken in pieces. Riots followed, in one of which
Jacquard was dragged along the quay by an infuriated mob intending to
drown him, but he was rescued.

The great value of the Jacquard loom, however, could not be denied, and its
success was only a question of time. Jacquard was urged by some English
silk manufacturers to pass over into England and settle there. But
notwithstanding the harsh and cruel treatment he had received at the hands
of his townspeople, his patriotism was too strong to permit him to accept
their offer. The English manufacturers, however, adopted his loom. Then it
was, and only then, that Lyons, threatened to be beaten out of the field,
adopted it with eagerness; and before long the Jacquard machine was
employed in nearly all kinds of weaving. The result proved that the fears of
the workpeople had been entirely unfounded. Instead of diminishing
employment, the Jacquard loom increased it at least tenfold. The number of
persons occupied in the manufacture of figured goods in Lyons, was stated
by M. Leon Faucher to have been 60,000 in 1833; and that number has
CHAPTER II 51

since been considerably increased.

As for Jacquard himself, the rest of his life passed peacefully, excepting
that the workpeople who dragged him along the quay to drown him were
shortly after found eager to bear him in triumph along the same route in
celebration of his birthday. But his modesty would not permit him to take
part in such a demonstration. The Municipal Council of Lyons proposed to
him that he should devote himself to improving his machine for the benefit
of the local industry, to which Jacquard agreed in consideration of a
moderate pension, the amount of which was fixed by himself. After
perfecting his invention accordingly, he retired at sixty to end his days at
Oullins, his father's native place. It was there that he received, in 1820, the
decoration of the Legion of Honour; and it was there that he died and was
buried in 1834. A statue was erected to his memory, but his relatives
remained in poverty; and twenty years after his death, his two nieces were
under the necessity of selling for a few hundred francs the gold medal
bestowed upon their uncle by Louis XVIII. "Such," says a French writer,
"was the gratitude of the manufacturing interests of Lyons to the man to
whom it owes so large a portion of its splendour."

It would be easy to extend the martyrology of inventors, and to cite the
names of other equally distinguished men who have, without any
corresponding advantage to themselves, contributed to the industrial
progress of the age,--for it has too often happened that genius has planted
the tree, of which patient dulness has gathered the fruit; but we will confine
ourselves for the present to a brief account of an inventor of comparatively
recent date, by way of illustration of the difficulties and privations which it
is so frequently the lot of mechanical genius to surmount. We allude to
Joshua Heilmann, the inventor of the Combing Machine.

Heilmann was born in 1796 at Mulhouse, the principal seat of the Alsace
cotton manufacture. His father was engaged in that business; and Joshua
entered his office at fifteen. He remained there for two years, employing his
spare time in mechanical drawing. He afterwards spent two years in his
uncle's banking- house in Paris, prosecuting the study of mathematics in the
evenings. Some of his relatives having established a small cotton- spinning
CHAPTER II 52

factory at Mulhouse, young Heilmann was placed with Messrs. Tissot and
Rey, at Paris, to learn the practice of that firm. At the same time he became
a student at the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers, where he attended the
lectures, and studied the machines in the museum. He also took practical
lessons in turning from a toymaker. After some time, thus diligently
occupied, he returned to Alsace, to superintend the construction of the
machinery for the new factory at Vieux-Thann, which was shortly finished
and set to work. The operations of the manufactory were, however,
seriously affected by a commercial crisis which occurred, and it passed into
other hands, on which Heilmann returned to his family at Mulhouse.

He had in the mean time been occupying much of his leisure with
inventions, more particularly in connection with the weaving of cotton and
the preparation of the staple for spinning. One of his earliest contrivances
was an embroidering-machine, in which twenty needles were employed,
working simultaneously; and he succeeded in accomplishing his object
after about six months' labour. For this invention, which he exhibited at the
Exposition of 1834, he received a gold medal, and was decorated with the
Legion of Honour. Other inventions quickly followed--an improved loom, a
machine for measuring and folding fabrics, an improvement of the "bobbin
and fly frames" of the English spinners, and a weft winding-machine, with
various improvements in the machinery for preparing, spinning, and
weaving silk and cotton. One of his most ingenious contrivances was his
loom for weaving simultaneously two pieces of velvet or other piled fabric,
united by the pile common to both, with a knife and traversing apparatus
for separating the two fabrics when woven. But by far the most beautiful
and ingenious of his inventions was the combing-machine, the history of
which we now proceed shortly to describe.

Heilmann had for some years been diligently studying the contrivance of a
machine for combing long-stapled cotton, the ordinary carding-machine
being found ineffective in preparing the raw material for spinning,
especially the finer sorts of yarn, besides causing considerable waste. To
avoid these imperfections, the cotton-spinners of Alsace offered a prize of
5000 francs for an improved combing-machine, and Heilmann immediately
proceeded to compete for the reward. He was not stimulated by the desire
CHAPTER II 53

of gain, for he was comparatively rich, having acquired a considerable
fortune by his wife. It was a saying of his that "one will never accomplish
great things who is constantly asking himself, how much gain will this
bring me?" What mainly impelled him was the irrepressible instinct of the
inventor, who no sooner has a mechanical problem set before him than he
feels impelled to undertake its solution. The problem in this case was,
however, much more difficult than he had anticipated. The close study of
the subject occupied him for several years, and the expenses in which he
became involved in connection with it were so great, that his wife's fortune
was shortly swallowed up, and he was reduced to poverty, without being
able to bring his machine to perfection. From that time he was under the
necessity of relying mainly on the help of his friends to enable him to
prosecute the invention.

While still struggling with poverty and difficulties, Heilmann's wife died,
believing her husband ruined; and shortly after he proceeded to England
and settled for a time at Manchester, still labouring at his machine. He had
a model made for him by the eminent machine-makers, Sharpe, Roberts,
and Company; but still he could not make it work satisfactorily, and he was
at length brought almost to the verge of despair. He returned to France to
visit his family, still pursuing his idea, which had obtained complete
possession of his mind. While sitting by his hearth one evening, meditating
upon the hard fate of inventors and the misfortunes in which their families
so often become involved, he found himself almost unconsciously watching
his daughters coming their long hair and drawing it out at full length
between their fingers. The thought suddenly struck him that if he could
successfully imitate in a machine the process of combing out the longest
hair and forcing back the short by reversing the action of the comb, it might
serve to extricate him from his difficulty. It may be remembered that this
incident in the life of Heilmann has been made the subject of a beautiful
picture by Mr. Elmore, R.A., which was exhibited at the Royal Academy
Exhibition of 1862.

Upon this idea he proceeded, introduced the apparently simple but really
most intricate process of machine-combing, and after great labour he
succeeded in perfecting the invention. The singular beauty of the process
CHAPTER II 54

can only be appreciated by those who have witnessed the machine at work,
when the similarity of its movements to that of combing the hair, which
suggested the invention, is at once apparent. The machine has been
described as "acting with almost the delicacy of touch of the human
fingers." It combs the lock of cotton AT BOTH ENDS, places the fibres
exactly parallel with each other, separates the long from the short, and
unites the long fibres in one sliver and the short ones in another. In fine, the
machine not only acts with the delicate accuracy of the human fingers, but
apparently with the delicate intelligence of the human mind.

The chief commercial value of the invention consisted in its rendering the
commoner sorts of cotton available for fine spinning. The manufacturers
were thereby enabled to select the most suitable fibres for high-priced
fabrics, and to produce the finer sorts of yarn in much larger quantities. It
became possible by its means to make thread so fine that a length of 334
miles might be spun from a single pound weight of the prepared cotton,
and, worked up into the finer sorts of lace, the original shilling's worth of
cotton-wool, before it passed into the hands of the consumer, might thus be
increased to the value of between 300l. and 400l. sterling.

The beauty and utility of Heilmann's invention were at once appreciated by
the English cotton-spinners. Six Lancashire firms united and purchased the
patent for cotton-spinning for England for the sum of 30,000l; the
wool-spinners paid the same sum for the privilege of applying the process
to wool; and the Messrs. Marshall, of Leeds, 20,000l. for the privilege of
applying it to flax. Thus wealth suddenly flowed in upon poor Heilmann at
last. But he did not live to enjoy it. Scarcely had his long labours been
crowned by success than he died, and his son, who had shared in his
privations, shortly followed him.

It is at the price of lives such as these that the wonders of civilisation are
achieved.
CHAPTER III 55

CHAPTER III

--THE GREAT POTTERS--PALISSY, BOTTGHER, WEDGWOOD

"Patience is the finest and worthiest part of fortitude, and the rarest too . . .
Patience lies at the root of all pleasures, as well as of all powers. Hope
herself ceases to be happiness when Impatience companions her."--John
Ruskin.

"Il y a vingt et cinq ans passez qu'il ne me fut monstre une coupe de terre,
tournee et esmaillee d'une telle beaute que . . . deslors, sans avoir esgard
que je n'avois nulle connoissance des terres argileuses, je me mis a chercher
les emaux, comme un homme qui taste en tenebres."--Bernard Palissy.

It so happens that the history of Pottery furnishes some of the most
remarkable instances of patient perseverance to be found in the whole range
of biography. Of these we select three of the most striking, as exhibited in
the lives of Bernard Palissy, the Frenchman; Johann Friedrich Bottgher, the
German; and Josiah Wedgwood, the Englishman.

Though the art of making common vessels of clay was known to most of
the ancient nations, that of manufacturing enamelled earthenware was much
less common. It was, however, practised by the ancient Etruscans,
specimens of whose ware are still to be found in antiquarian collections.
But it became a lost art, and was only recovered at a comparatively recent
date. The Etruscan ware was very valuable in ancient times, a vase being
worth its weight in gold in the time of Augustus. The Moors seem to have
preserved amongst them a knowledge of the art, which they were found
practising in the island of Majorca when it was taken by the Pisans in 1115.
Among the spoil carried away were many plates of Moorish earthenware,
which, in token of triumph, were embedded in the walls of several of the
ancient churches of Pisa, where they are to be seen to this day. About two
centuries later the Italians began to make an imitation enamelled ware,
which they named Majolica, after the Moorish place of manufacture.
CHAPTER III 56

The reviver or re-discoverer of the art of enamelling in Italy was Luca della
Robbia, a Florentine sculptor. Vasari describes him as a man of
indefatigable perseverance, working with his chisel all day and practising
drawing during the greater part of the night. He pursued the latter art with
so much assiduity, that when working late, to prevent his feet from freezing
with the cold, he was accustomed to provide himself with a basket of
shavings, in which he placed them to keep himself warm and enable him to
proceed with his drawings. "Nor," says Vasari, "am I in the least astonished
at this, since no man ever becomes distinguished in any art whatsoever who
does not early begin to acquire the power of supporting heat, cold, hunger,
thirst, and other discomforts; whereas those persons deceive themselves
altogether who suppose that when taking their ease and surrounded by all
the enjoyments of the world they may still attain to honourable
distinction,--for it is not by sleeping, but by waking, watching, and
labouring continually, that proficiency is attained and reputation acquired."

But Luca, notwithstanding all his application and industry, did not succeed
in earning enough money by sculpture to enable him to live by the art, and
the idea occurred to him that he might nevertheless be able to pursue his
modelling in some material more facile and less dear than marble. Hence it
was that he began to make his models in clay, and to endeavour by
experiment so to coat and bake the clay as to render those models durable.
After many trials he at length discovered a method of covering the clay
with a material, which, when exposed to the intense heat of a furnace,
became converted into an almost imperishable enamel. He afterwards made
the further discovery of a method of imparting colour to the enamel, thus
greatly adding to its beauty.

The fame of Luca's work extended throughout Europe, and specimens of
his art became widely diffused. Many of them were sent into France and
Spain, where they were greatly prized. At that time coarse brown jars and
pipkins were almost the only articles of earthenware produced in France;
and this continued to be the case, with comparatively small improvement,
until the time of Palissy--a man who toiled and fought against stupendous
difficulties with a heroism that sheds a glow almost of romance over the
events of his chequered life.
CHAPTER III 57

Bernard Palissy is supposed to have been born in the south of France, in the
diocese of Agen, about the year 1510. His father was probably a worker in
glass, to which trade Bernard was brought up. His parents were poor
people--too poor to give him the benefit of any school education. "I had no
other books," said he afterwards, "than heaven and earth, which are open to
all." He learnt, however, the art of glass-painting, to which he added that of
drawing, and afterwards reading and writing.

When about eighteen years old, the glass trade becoming decayed, Palissy
left his father's house, with his wallet on his back, and went out into the
world to search whether there was any place in it for him. He first travelled
towards Gascony, working at his trade where he could find employment,
and occasionally occupying part of his time in land-measuring. Then he
travelled northwards, sojourning for various periods at different places in
France, Flanders, and Lower Germany.

Thus Palissy occupied about ten more years of his life, after which he
married, and ceased from his wanderings, settling down to practise
glass-painting and land-measuring at the small town of Saintes, in the
Lower Charente. There children were born to him; and not only his
responsibilities but his expenses increased, while, do what he could, his
earnings remained too small for his needs. It was therefore necessary for
him to bestir himself. Probably he felt capable of better things than
drudging in an employment so precarious as glass-painting; and hence he
was induced to turn his attention to the kindred art of painting and
enamelling earthenware. Yet on this subject he was wholly ignorant; for he
had never seen earth baked before he began his operations. He had
therefore everything to learn by himself, without any helper. But he was
full of hope, eager to learn, of unbounded perseverance and inexhaustible
patience.

It was the sight of an elegant cup of Italian manufacture--most probably
one of Luca della Robbia's make--which first set Palissy a-thinking about
the new art. A circumstance so apparently insignificant would have
produced no effect upon an ordinary mind, or even upon Palissy himself at
an ordinary time; but occurring as it did when he was meditating a change
CHAPTER III 58

of calling, he at once became inflamed with the desire of imitating it. The
sight of this cup disturbed his whole existence; and the determination to
discover the enamel with which it was glazed thenceforward possessed him
like a passion. Had he been a single man he might have travelled into Italy
in search of the secret; but he was bound to his wife and his children, and
could not leave them; so he remained by their side groping in the dark in
the hope of finding out the process of making and enamelling earthenware.

At first he could merely guess the materials of which the enamel was
composed; and he proceeded to try all manner of experiments to ascertain
what they really were. He pounded all the substances which he supposed
were likely to produce it. Then he bought common earthen pots, broke
them into pieces, and, spreading his compounds over them, subjected them
to the heat of a furnace which he erected for the purpose of baking them.
His experiments failed; and the results were broken pots and a waste of
fuel, drugs, time, and labour. Women do not readily sympathise with
experiments whose only tangible effect is to dissipate the means of buying
clothes and food for their children; and Palissy's wife, however dutiful in
other respects, could not be reconciled to the purchase of more earthen pots,
which seemed to her to be bought only to be broken. Yet she must needs
submit; for Palissy had become thoroughly possessed by the determination
to master the secret of the enamel, and would not leave it alone.

For many successive months and years Palissy pursued his experiments.
The first furnace having proved a failure, he proceeded to erect another out
of doors. There he burnt more wood, spoiled more drugs and pots, and lost
more time, until poverty stared him and his family in the face. "Thus," said
he, "I fooled away several years, with sorrow and sighs, because I could not
at all arrive at my intention." In the intervals of his experiments he
occasionally worked at his former callings, painting on glass, drawing
portraits, and measuring land; but his earnings from these sources were
very small. At length he was no longer able to carry on his experiments in
his own furnace because of the heavy cost of fuel; but he bought more
potsherds, broke them up as before into three or four hundred pieces, and,
covering them with chemicals, carried them to a tile-work a league and a
half distant from Saintes, there to be baked in an ordinary furnace. After the
CHAPTER III 59

operation he went to see the pieces taken out; and, to his dismay, the whole
of the experiments were failures. But though disappointed, he was not yet
defeated; for he determined on the very spot to "begin afresh."

His business as a land-measurer called him away for a brief season from the
pursuit of his experiments. In conformity with an edict of the State, it
became necessary to survey the salt-marshes in the neighbourhood of
Saintes for the purpose of levying the land-tax. Palissy was employed to
make this survey, and prepare the requisite map. The work occupied him
some time, and he was doubtless well paid for it; but no sooner was it
completed than he proceeded, with redoubled zeal, to follow up his old
investigations "in the track of the enamels." He began by breaking three
dozen new earthen pots, the pieces of which he covered with different
materials which he had compounded, and then took them to a neighbouring
glass- furnace to be baked. The results gave him a glimmer of hope. The
greater heat of the glass-furnace had melted some of the compounds; but
though Palissy searched diligently for the white enamel he could find none.

For two more years he went on experimenting without any satisfactory
result, until the proceeds of his survey of the salt- marshes having become
nearly spent, he was reduced to poverty again. But he resolved to make a
last great effort; and he began by breaking more pots than ever. More than
three hundred pieces of pottery covered with his compounds were sent to
the glass-furnace; and thither he himself went to watch the results of the
baking. Four hours passed, during which he watched; and then the furnace
was opened. The material on ONE only of the three hundred pieces of
potsherd had melted, and it was taken out to cool. As it hardened, it grew
white-white and polished! The piece of potsherd was covered with white
enamel, described by Palissy as "singularly beautiful!" And beautiful it
must no doubt have been in his eyes after all his weary waiting. He ran
home with it to his wife, feeling himself, as he expressed it, quite a new
creature. But the prize was not yet won--far from it. The partial success of
this intended last effort merely had the effect of luring him on to a
succession of further experiments and failures.
CHAPTER III 60

In order that he might complete the invention, which he now believed to be
at hand, he resolved to build for himself a glass- furnace near his dwelling,
where he might carry on his operations in secret. He proceeded to build the
furnace with his own hands, carrying the bricks from the brick-field upon
his back. He was bricklayer, labourer, and all. From seven to eight more
months passed. At last the furnace was built and ready for use. Palissy had
in the mean time fashioned a number of vessels of clay in readiness for the
laying on of the enamel. After being subjected to a preliminary process of
baking, they were covered with the enamel compound, and again placed in
the furnace for the grand crucial experiment. Although his means were
nearly exhausted, Palissy had been for some time accumulating a great
store of fuel for the final effort; and he thought it was enough. At last the
fire was lit, and the operation proceeded. All day he sat by the furnace,
feeding it with fuel. He sat there watching and feeding all through the long
night. But the enamel did not melt. The sun rose upon his labours. His wife
brought him a portion of the scanty morning meal,--for he would not stir
from the furnace, into which he continued from time to time to heave more
fuel. The second day passed, and still the enamel did not melt. The sun set,
and another night passed. The pale, haggard, unshorn, baffled yet not
beaten Palissy sat by his furnace eagerly looking for the melting of the
enamel. A third day and night passed--a fourth, a fifth, and even a
sixth,--yes, for six long days and nights did the unconquerable Palissy
watch and toil, fighting against hope; and still the enamel would not melt.

It then occurred to him that there might be some defect in the materials for
the enamel--perhaps something wanting in the flux; so he set to work to
pound and compound fresh materials for a new experiment. Thus two or
three more weeks passed. But how to buy more pots?--for those which he
had made with his own hands for the purposes of the first experiment were
by long baking irretrievably spoilt for the purposes of a second. His money
was now all spent; but he could borrow. His character was still good,
though his wife and the neighbours thought him foolishly wasting his
means in futile experiments. Nevertheless he succeeded. He borrowed
sufficient from a friend to enable him to buy more fuel and more pots, and
he was again ready for a further experiment. The pots were covered with
the new compound, placed in the furnace, and the fire was again lit.
CHAPTER III 61

It was the last and most desperate experiment of the whole. The fire blazed
up; the heat became intense; but still the enamel did not melt. The fuel
began to run short! How to keep up the fire? There were the garden palings:
these would burn. They must be sacrificed rather than that the great
experiment should fail. The garden palings were pulled up and cast into the
furnace. They were burnt in vain! The enamel had not yet melted. Ten
minutes more heat might do it. Fuel must be had at whatever cost. There
remained the household furniture and shelving. A crashing noise was heard
in the house; and amidst the screams of his wife and children, who now
feared Palissy's reason was giving way, the tables were seized, broken up,
and heaved into the furnace. The enamel had not melted yet! There
remained the shelving. Another noise of the wrenching of timber was heard
within the house; and the shelves were torn down and hurled after the
furniture into the fire. Wife and children then rushed from the house, and
went frantically through the town, calling out that poor Palissy had gone
mad, and was breaking up his very furniture for firewood! {10}

For an entire month his shirt had not been off his back, and he was utterly
worn out--wasted with toil, anxiety, watching, and want of food. He was in
debt, and seemed on the verge of ruin. But he had at length mastered the
secret; for the last great burst of heat had melted the enamel. The common
brown household jars, when taken out of the furnace after it had become
cool, were found covered with a white glaze! For this he could endure
reproach, contumely, and scorn, and wait patiently for the opportunity of
putting his discovery into practice as better days came round.

Palissy next hired a potter to make some earthen vessels after designs
which he furnished; while he himself proceeded to model some medallions
in clay for the purpose of enamelling them. But how to maintain himself
and his family until the wares were made and ready for sale? Fortunately
there remained one man in Saintes who still believed in the integrity, if not
in the judgment, of Palissy--an inn-keeper, who agreed to feed and lodge
him for six months, while he went on with his manufacture. As for the
working potter whom he had hired, Palissy soon found that he could not
pay him the stipulated wages. Having already stripped his dwelling, he
could but strip himself; and he accordingly parted with some of his clothes
CHAPTER III 62

to the potter, in part payment of the wages which he owed him.

Palissy next erected an improved furnace, but he was so unfortunate as to
build part of the inside with flints. When it was heated, these flints cracked
and burst, and the spiculae were scattered over the pieces of pottery,
sticking to them. Though the enamel came out right, the work was
irretrievably spoilt, and thus six more months' labour was lost. Persons
were found willing to buy the articles at a low price, notwithstanding the
injury they had sustained; but Palissy would not sell them, considering that
to have done so would be to "decry and abate his honour;" and so he broke
in pieces the entire batch. "Nevertheless," says he, "hope continued to
inspire me, and I held on manfully; sometimes, when visitors called, I
entertained them with pleasantry, while I was really sad at heart. . . . Worst
of all the sufferings I had to endure, were the mockeries and persecutions of
those of my own household, who were so unreasonable as to expect me to
execute work without the means of doing so. For years my furnaces were
without any covering or protection, and while attending them I have been
for nights at the mercy of the wind and the rain, without help or
consolation, save it might be the wailing of cats on the one side and the
howling of dogs on the other. Sometimes the tempest would beat so
furiously against the furnaces that I was compelled to leave them and seek
shelter within doors. Drenched by rain, and in no better plight than if I had
been dragged through mire, I have gone to lie down at midnight or at
daybreak, stumbling into the house without a light, and reeling from one
side to another as if I had been drunken, but really weary with watching and
filled with sorrow at the loss of my labour after such long toiling. But alas!
my home proved no refuge; for, drenched and besmeared as I was, I found
in my chamber a second persecution worse than the first, which makes me
even now marvel that I was not utterly consumed by my many sorrows."

At this stage of his affairs, Palissy became melancholy and almost hopeless,
and seems to have all but broken down. He wandered gloomily about the
fields near Saintes, his clothes hanging in tatters, and himself worn to a
skeleton. In a curious passage in his writings he describes how that the
calves of his legs had disappeared and were no longer able with the help of
garters to hold up his stockings, which fell about his heels when he walked.
CHAPTER III 63

{11} The family continued to reproach him for his recklessness, and his
neighbours cried shame upon him for his obstinate folly. So he returned for
a time to his former calling; and after about a year's diligent labour, during
which he earned bread for his household and somewhat recovered his
character among his neighbours, he again resumed his darling enterprise.
But though he had already spent about ten years in the search for the
enamel, it cost him nearly eight more years of experimental plodding
before he perfected his invention. He gradually learnt dexterity and
certainty of result by experience, gathering practical knowledge out of
many failures. Every mishap was a fresh lesson to him, teaching him
something new about the nature of enamels, the qualities of argillaceous
earths, the tempering of clays, and the construction and management of
furnaces.

At last, after about sixteen years' labour, Palissy took heart and called
himself Potter. These sixteen years had been his term of apprenticeship to
the art; during which he had wholly to teach himself, beginning at the very
beginning. He was now able to sell his wares and thereby maintain his
family in comfort. But he never rested satisfied with what he had
accomplished. He proceeded from one step of improvement to another;
always aiming at the greatest perfection possible. He studied natural objects
for patterns, and with such success that the great Buffon spoke of him as
"so great a naturalist as Nature only can produce." His ornamental pieces
are now regarded as rare gems in the cabinets of virtuosi, and sell at almost
fabulous prices. {12} The ornaments on them are for the most part accurate
models from life, of wild animals, lizards, and plants, found in the fields
about Saintes, and tastefully combined as ornaments into the texture of a
plate or vase. When Palissy had reached the height of his art he styled
himself "Ouvrier de Terre et Inventeur des Rustics Figulines."

We have not, however, come to an end of the sufferings of Palissy,
respecting which a few words remain to be said. Being a Protestant, at a
time when religious persecution waxed hot in the south of France, and
expressing his views without fear, he was regarded as a dangerous heretic.
His enemies having informed against him, his house at Saintes was entered
by the officers of "justice," and his workshop was thrown open to the
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rabble, who entered and smashed his pottery, while he himself was hurried
off by night and cast into a dungeon at Bordeaux, to wait his turn at the
stake or the scaffold. He was condemned to be burnt; but a powerful noble,
the Constable de Montmorency, interposed to save his life--not because he
had any special regard for Palissy or his religion, but because no other artist
could be found capable of executing the enamelled pavement for his
magnificent chateau then in course of erection at Ecouen, about four
leagues from Paris. By his influence an edict was issued appointing Palissy
Inventor of Rustic Figulines to the King and to the Constable, which had
the effect of immediately removing him from the jurisdiction of Bourdeaux.
He was accordingly liberated, and returned to his home at Saintes only to
find it devastated and broken up. His workshop was open to the sky, and
his works lay in ruins. Shaking the dust of Saintes from his feet he left the
place never to return to it, and removed to Paris to carry on the works
ordered of him by the Constable and the Queen Mother, being lodged in the
Tuileries {13} while so occupied.

Besides carrying on the manufacture of pottery, with the aid of his two
sons, Palissy, during the latter part of his life, wrote and published several
books on the potter's art, with a view to the instruction of his countrymen,
and in order that they might avoid the many mistakes which he himself had
made. He also wrote on agriculture, on fortification, and natural history, on
which latter subject he even delivered lectures to a limited number of
persons. He waged war against astrology, alchemy, witchcraft, and like
impostures. This stirred up against him many enemies, who pointed the
finger at him as a heretic, and he was again arrested for his religion and
imprisoned in the Bastille. He was now an old man of seventy-eight,
trembling on the verge of the grave, but his spirit was as brave as ever. He
was threatened with death unless he recanted; but he was as obstinate in
holding to his religion as he had been in hunting out the secret of the
enamel. The king, Henry III., even went to see him in prison to induce him
to abjure his faith. "My good man," said the King, "you have now served
my mother and myself for forty-five years. We have put up with your
adhering to your religion amidst fires and massacres: now I am so pressed
by the Guise party as well as by my own people, that I am constrained to
leave you in the hands of your enemies, and to- morrow you will be burnt
CHAPTER III 65

unless you become converted." "Sire," answered the unconquerable old
man, "I am ready to give my life for the glory of God. You have said many
times that you have pity on me; and now I have pity on you, who have
pronounced the words I AM CONSTRAINED! It is not spoken like a king,
sire; it is what you, and those who constrain you, the Guisards and all your
people, can never effect upon me, for I know how to die." {14} Palissy did
indeed die shortly after, a martyr, though not at the stake. He died in the
Bastille, after enduring about a year's imprisonment,-- there peacefully
terminating a life distinguished for heroic labour, extraordinary endurance,
inflexible rectitude, and the exhibition of many rare and noble virtues. {15}

The life of John Frederick Bottgher, the inventor of hard porcelain, presents
a remarkable contrast to that of Palissy; though it also contains many points
of singular and almost romantic interest. Bottgher was born at Schleiz, in
the Voightland, in 1685, and at twelve years of age was placed apprentice
with an apothecary at Berlin. He seems to have been early fascinated by
chemistry, and occupied most of his leisure in making experiments. These
for the most part tended in one direction--the art of converting common on
metals into gold. At the end of several years, Bottgher pretended to have
discovered the universal solvent of the alchemists, and professed that he
had made gold by its means. He exhibited its powers before his master, the
apothecary Zorn, and by some trick or other succeeded in making him and
several other witnesses believe that he had actually converted copper into
gold.

The news spread abroad that the apothecary's apprentice had discovered the
grand secret, and crowds collected about the shop to get a sight of the
wonderful young "gold-cook." The king himself expressed a wish to see
and converse with him, and when Frederick I. was presented with a piece of
the gold pretended to have been converted from copper, he was so dazzled
with the prospect of securing an infinite quantity of it--Prussia being then in
great straits for money--that he determined to secure Bottgher and employ
him to make gold for him within the strong fortress of Spandau. But the
young apothecary, suspecting the king's intention, and probably fearing
detection, at once resolved on flight, and he succeeded in getting across the
frontier into Saxony.
CHAPTER III 66

A reward of a thousand thalers was offered for Bottgher's apprehension, but
in vain. He arrived at Wittenberg, and appealed for protection to the Elector
of Saxony, Frederick Augustus I. (King of Poland), surnamed "the Strong."
Frederick was himself very much in want of money at the time, and he was
overjoyed at the prospect of obtaining gold in any quantity by the aid of the
young alchemist. Bottgher was accordingly conveyed in secret to Dresden,
accompanied by a royal escort. He had scarcely left Wittenberg when a
battalion of Prussian grenadiers appeared before the gates demanding the
gold-maker's extradition. But it was too late: Bottgher had already arrived
in Dresden, where he was lodged in the Golden House, and treated with
every consideration, though strictly watched and kept under guard.

The Elector, however, must needs leave him there for a time, having to
depart forthwith to Poland, then almost in a state of anarchy. But, impatient
for gold, he wrote Bottgher from Warsaw, urging him to communicate the
secret, so that he himself might practise the art of commutation. The young
"gold-cook," thus pressed, forwarded to Frederick a small phial containing
"a reddish fluid," which, it was asserted, changed all metals, when in a
molten state, into gold. This important phial was taken in charge by the
Prince Furst von Furstenburg, who, accompanied by a regiment of Guards,
hurried with it to Warsaw. Arrived there, it was determined to make
immediate trial of the process. The King and the Prince locked themselves
up in a secret chamber of the palace, girt themselves about with leather
aprons, and like true "gold-cooks" set to work melting copper in a crucible
and afterwards applying to it the red fluid of Bottgher. But the result was
unsatisfactory; for notwithstanding all that they could do, the copper
obstinately remained copper. On referring to the alchemist's instructions,
however, the King found that, to succeed with the process, it was necessary
that the fluid should be used "in great purity of heart;" and as his Majesty
was conscious of having spent the evening in very bad company he
attributed the failure of the experiment to that cause. A second trial was
followed by no better results, and then the King became furious; for he had
confessed and received absolution before beginning the second experiment.

Frederick Augustus now resolved on forcing Bottgher to disclose the
golden secret, as the only means of relief from his urgent pecuniary
CHAPTER III 67

difficulties. The alchemist, hearing of the royal intention, again determined
to fly. He succeeded in escaping his guard, and, after three days' travel,
arrived at Ens in Austria, where he thought himself safe. The agents of the
Elector were, however, at his heels; they had tracked him to the "Golden
Stag," which they surrounded, and seizing him in his bed, notwithstanding
his resistance and appeals to the Austrian authorities for help, they carried
him by force to Dresden. From this time he was more strictly watched than
ever, and he was shortly after transferred to the strong fortress of
Koningstein. It was communicated to him that the royal exchequer was
completely empty, and that ten regiments of Poles in arrears of pay were
waiting for his gold. The King himself visited him, and told him in a severe
tone that if he did not at once proceed to make gold, he would be hung!
("Thu mir zurecht, Bottgher, sonst lass ich dich hangen").

Years passed, and still Bottgher made no gold; but he was not hung. It was
reserved for him to make a far more important discovery than the
conversion of copper into gold, namely, the conversion of clay into
porcelain. Some rare specimens of this ware had been brought by the
Portuguese from China, which were sold for more than their weight in gold.
Bottgher was first induced to turn his attention to the subject by Walter von
Tschirnhaus, a maker of optical instruments, also an alchemist. Tschirnhaus
was a man of education and distinction, and was held in much esteem by
Prince Furstenburg as well as by the Elector. He very sensibly said to
Bottgher, still in fear of the gallows--"If you can't make gold, try and do
something else; make porcelain."

The alchemist acted on the hint, and began his experiments, working night
and day. He prosecuted his investigations for a long time with great
assiduity, but without success. At length some red clay, brought to him for
the purpose of making his crucibles, set him on the right track. He found
that this clay, when submitted to a high temperature, became vitrified and
retained its shape; and that its texture resembled that of porcelain,
excepting in colour and opacity. He had in fact accidentally discovered red
porcelain, and he proceeded to manufacture it and sell it as porcelain.
CHAPTER III 68

Bottgher was, however, well aware that the white colour was an essential
property of true porcelain; and he therefore prosecuted his experiments in
the hope of discovering the secret. Several years thus passed, but without
success; until again accident stood his friend, and helped him to a
knowledge of the art of making white porcelain. One day, in the year 1707,
he found his perruque unusually heavy, and asked of his valet the reason.
The answer was, that it was owing to the powder with which the wig was
dressed, which consisted of a kind of earth then much used for hair powder.
Bottgher's quick imagination immediately seized upon the idea. This white
earthy powder might possibly be the very earth of which he was in
search--at all events the opportunity must not be let slip of ascertaining
what it really was. He was rewarded for his painstaking care and
watchfulness; for he found, on experiment, that the principal ingredient of
the hair-powder consisted of kaolin, the want of which had so long formed
an insuperable difficulty in the way of his inquiries.

The discovery, in Bottgher's intelligent hands, led to great results, and
proved of far greater importance than the discovery of the philosopher's
stone would have been. In October, 1707, he presented his first piece of
porcelain to the Elector, who was greatly pleased with it; and it was
resolved that Bottgher should be furnished with the means necessary for
perfecting his invention. Having obtained a skilled workman from Delft, he
began to TURN porcelain with great success. He now entirely abandoned
alchemy for pottery, and inscribed over the door of his workshop this
distich:-

"Es machte Gott, der grosse Schopfer, Aus einem Goldmacher einen
Topfer." {16}

Bottgher, however, was still under strict surveillance, for fear lest he should
communicate his secret to others or escape the Elector's control. The new
workshops and furnaces which were erected for him, were guarded by
troops night and day, and six superior officers were made responsible for
the personal security of the potter.
CHAPTER III 69

Bottgher's further experiments with his new furnaces proving very
successful, and the porcelain which he manufactured being found to fetch
large prices, it was next determined to establish a Royal Manufactory of
porcelain. The manufacture of delft ware was known to have greatly
enriched Holland. Why should not the manufacture of porcelain equally
enrich the Elector? Accordingly, a decree went forth, dated the 23rd of
January, 1710, for the establishment of "a large manufactory of porcelain"
at the Albrechtsburg in Meissen. In this decree, which was translated into
Latin, French, and Dutch, and distributed by the Ambassadors of the
Elector at all the European Courts, Frederick Augustus set forth that to
promote the welfare of Saxony, which had suffered much through the
Swedish invasion, he had "directed his attention to the subterranean
treasures (unterirdischen Schatze)" of the country, and having employed
some able persons in the investigation, they had succeeded in
manufacturing "a sort of red vessels (eine Art rother Gefasse) far superior
to the Indian terra sigillata;" {17} as also "coloured ware and plates (buntes
Geschirr und Tafeln) which may be cut, ground, and polished, and are quite
equal to Indian vessels," and finally that "specimens of white porcelain
(Proben von weissem Porzellan)" had already been obtained, and it was
hoped that this quality, too, would soon be manufactured in considerable
quantities. The royal decree concluded by inviting "foreign artists and
handicraftmen" to come to Saxony and engage as assistants in the new
factory, at high wages, and under the patronage of the King. This royal
edict probably gives the best account of the actual state of Bottgher's
invention at the time.

It has been stated in German publications that Bottgher, for the great
services rendered by him to the Elector and to Saxony, was made Manager
of the Royal Porcelain Works, and further promoted to the dignity of
Baron. Doubtless he deserved these honours; but his treatment was of an
altogether different character, for it was shabby, cruel, and inhuman. Two
royal officials, named Matthieu and Nehmitz, were put over his head as
directors of the factory, while he himself only held the position of foreman
of potters, and at the same time was detained the King's prisoner. During
the erection of the factory at Meissen, while his assistance was still
indispensable, he was conducted by soldiers to and from Dresden; and even
CHAPTER III 70

after the works were finished, he was locked up nightly in his room. All
this preyed upon his mind, and in repeated letters to the King he sought to
obtain mitigation of his fate. Some of these letters are very touching. "I will
devote my whole soul to the art of making porcelain," he writes on one
occasion, "I will do more than any inventor ever did before; only give me
liberty, liberty!"

To these appeals, the King turned a deaf ear. He was ready to spend money
and grant favours; but liberty he would not give. He regarded Bottgher as
his slave. In this position, the persecuted man kept on working for some
time, till, at the end of a year or two, he grew negligent. Disgusted with the
world and with himself, he took to drinking. Such is the force of example,
that it no sooner became known that Bottgher had betaken himself to this
vice, than the greater number of the workmen at the Meissen factory
became drunkards too. Quarrels and fightings without end were the
consequence, so that the troops were frequently called upon to interfere and
keep peace among the "Porzellanern," as they were nicknamed. After a
while, the whole of them, more than three hundred, were shut up in the
Albrechtsburg, and treated as prisoners of state.

Bottgher at last fell seriously ill, and in May, 1713, his dissolution was
hourly expected. The King, alarmed at losing so valuable a slave, now gave
him permission to take carriage exercise under a guard; and, having
somewhat recovered, he was allowed occasionally to go to Dresden. In a
letter written by the King in April, 1714, Bottgher was promised his full
liberty; but the offer came too late. Broken in body and mind, alternately
working and drinking, though with occasional gleams of nobler intention,
and suffering under constant ill-health, the result of his enforced
confinement, Bottgher lingered on for a few years more, until death freed
him from his sufferings on the 13th March, 1719, in the thirty-fifth year of
his age. He was buried AT NIGHT--as if he had been a dog--in the
Johannis Cemetery of Meissen. Such was the treatment and such the
unhappy end, of one of Saxony's greatest benefactors.

The porcelain manufacture immediately opened up an important source of
public revenue, and it became so productive to the Elector of Saxony, that
CHAPTER III 71

his example was shortly after followed by most European monarchs.
Although soft porcelain had been made at St. Cloud fourteen years before
Bottgher's discovery, the superiority of the hard porcelain soon became
generally recognised. Its manufacture was begun at Sevres in 1770, and it
has since almost entirely superseded the softer material. This is now one of
the most thriving branches of French industry, of which the high quality of
the articles produced is certainly indisputable.

The career of Josiah Wedgwood, the English potter, was less chequered and
more prosperous than that of either Palissy or Bottgher, and his lot was cast
in happier times. Down to the middle of last century England was behind
most other nations of the first order in Europe in respect of skilled industry.
Although there were many potters in Staffordshire--and Wedgwood himself
belonged to a numerous clan of potters of the same name--their productions
were of the rudest kind, for the most part only plain brown ware, with the
patterns scratched in while the clay was wet. The principal supply of the
better articles of earthenware came from Delft in Holland, and of drinking
stone pots from Cologne. Two foreign potters, the brothers Elers from
Nuremberg, settled for a time in Staffordshire, and introduced an improved
manufacture, but they shortly after removed to Chelsea, where they
confined themselves to the manufacture of ornamental pieces. No porcelain
capable of resisting a scratch with a hard point had yet been made in
England; and for a long time the "white ware" made in Staffordshire was
not white, but of a dirty cream colour. Such, in a few words, was the
condition of the pottery manufacture when Josiah Wedgwood was born at
Burslem in 1730. By the time that he died, sixty-four years later, it had
become completely changed. By his energy, skill, and genius, he
established the trade upon a new and solid foundation; and, in the words of
his epitaph, "converted a rude and inconsiderable manufacture into an
elegant art and an important branch of national commerce."

Josiah Wedgwood was one of those indefatigable men who from time to
time spring from the ranks of the common people, and by their energetic
character not only practically educate the working population in habits of
industry, but by the example of diligence and perseverance which they set
before them, largely influence the public activity in all directions, and
CHAPTER III 72

contribute in a great degree to form the national character. He was, like
Arkwright, the youngest of a family of thirteen children. His grandfather
and granduncle were both potters, as was also his father who died when he
was a mere boy, leaving him a patrimony of twenty pounds. He had learned
to read and write at the village school; but on the death of his father he was
taken from it and set to work as a "thrower" in a small pottery carried on by
his elder brother. There he began life, his working life, to use his own
words, "at the lowest round of the ladder," when only eleven years old. He
was shortly after seized by an attack of virulent smallpox, from the effects
of which he suffered during the rest of his life, for it was followed by a
disease in the right knee, which recurred at frequent intervals, and was only
got rid of by the amputation of the limb many years later. Mr. Gladstone, in
his eloquent Eloge on Wedgwood recently delivered at Burslem, well
observed that the disease from which he suffered was not improbably the
occasion of his subsequent excellence. "It prevented him from growing up
to be the active, vigorous English workman, possessed of all his limbs, and
knowing right well the use of them; but it put him upon considering
whether, as he could not be that, he might not be something else, and
something greater. It sent his mind inwards; it drove him to meditate upon
the laws and secrets of his art. The result was, that he arrived at a
perception and a grasp of them which might, perhaps, have been envied,
certainly have been owned, by an Athenian potter." {18}

When he had completed his apprenticeship with his brother, Josiah joined
partnership with another workman, and carried on a small business in
making knife-hafts, boxes, and sundry articles for domestic use. Another
partnership followed, when he proceeded to make melon table plates, green
pickle leaves, candlesticks, snuffboxes, and such like articles; but he made
comparatively little progress until he began business on his own account at
Burslem in the year 1759. There he diligently pursued his calling,
introducing new articles to the trade, and gradually extending his business.
What he chiefly aimed at was to manufacture cream- coloured ware of a
better quality than was then produced in Staffordshire as regarded shape,
colour, glaze, and durability. To understand the subject thoroughly, he
devoted his leisure to the study of chemistry; and he made numerous
experiments on fluxes, glazes, and various sorts of clay. Being a close
CHAPTER III 73

inquirer and accurate observer, he noticed that a certain earth containing
silica, which was black before calcination, became white after exposure to
the heat of a furnace. This fact, observed and pondered on, led to the idea of
mixing silica with the red powder of the potteries, and to the discovery that
the mixture becomes white when calcined. He had but to cover this material
with a vitrification of transparent glaze, to obtain one of the most important
products of fictile art--that which, under the name of English earthenware,
was to attain the greatest commercial value and become of the most
extensive utility.

Wedgwood was for some time much troubled by his furnaces, though
nothing like to the same extent that Palissy was; and he overcame his
difficulties in the same way--by repeated experiments and unfaltering
perseverance. His first attempts at making porcelain for table use was a
succession of disastrous failures,--the labours of months being often
destroyed in a day. It was only after a long series of trials, in the course of
which he lost time, money, and labour, that he arrived at the proper sort of
glaze to be used; but he would not be denied, and at last he conquered
success through patience. The improvement of pottery became his passion,
and was never lost sight of for a moment. Even when he had mastered his
difficulties, and become a prosperous man--manufacturing white stone
ware and cream-coloured ware in large quantities for home and foreign
use--he went forward perfecting his manufactures, until, his example
extending in all directions, the action of the entire district was stimulated,
and a great branch of British industry was eventually established on firm
foundations. He aimed throughout at the highest excellence, declaring his
determination "to give over manufacturing any article, whatsoever it might
be, rather than to degrade it."

Wedgwood was cordially helped by many persons of rank and influence;
for, working in the truest spirit, he readily commanded the help and
encouragement of other true workers. He made for Queen Charlotte the first
royal table-service of English manufacture, of the kind afterwards called
"Queen's-ware," and was appointed Royal Potter; a title which he prized
more than if he had been made a baron. Valuable sets of porcelain were
entrusted to him for imitation, in which he succeeded to admiration. Sir
CHAPTER III 74

William Hamilton lent him specimens of ancient art from Herculaneum, of
which he produced accurate and beautiful copies. The Duchess of Portland
outbid him for the Barberini Vase when that article was offered for sale. He
bid as high as seventeen hundred guineas for it: her grace secured it for
eighteen hundred; but when she learnt Wedgwood's object she at once
generously lent him the vase to copy. He produced fifty copies at a cost of
about 2500l., and his expenses were not covered by their sale; but he gained
his object, which was to show that whatever had been done, that English
skill and energy could and would accomplish.

Wedgwood called to his aid the crucible of the chemist, the knowledge of
the antiquary, and the skill of the artist. He found out Flaxman when a
youth, and while he liberally nurtured his genius drew from him a large
number of beautiful designs for his pottery and porcelain; converting them
by his manufacture into objects of taste and excellence, and thus making
them instrumental in the diffusion of classical art amongst the people. By
careful experiment and study he was even enabled to rediscover the art of
painting on porcelain or earthenware vases and similar articles--an art
practised by the ancient Etruscans, but which had been lost since the time
of Pliny. He distinguished himself by his own contributions to science, and
his name is still identified with the Pyrometer which he invented. He was
an indefatigable supporter of all measures of public utility; and the
construction of the Trent and Mersey Canal, which completed the navigable
communication between the eastern and western sides of the island, was
mainly due to his public-spirited exertions, allied to the engineering skill of
Brindley. The road accommodation of the district being of an execrable
character, he planned and executed a turnpike-road through the Potteries,
ten miles in length. The reputation he achieved was such that his works at
Burslem, and subsequently those at Etruria, which he founded and built,
became a point of attraction to distinguished visitors from all parts of
Europe.

The result of Wedgwood's labours was, that the manufacture of pottery,
which he found in the very lowest condition, became one of the staples of
England; and instead of importing what we needed for home use from
abroad, we became large exporters to other countries, supplying them with
CHAPTER III 75

earthenware even in the face of enormous prohibitory duties on articles of
British produce. Wedgwood gave evidence as to his manufactures before
Parliament in 1785, only some thirty years after he had begun his
operations; from which it appeared, that instead of providing only casual
employment to a small number of inefficient and badly remunerated
workmen, about 20,000 persons then derived their bread directly from the
manufacture of earthenware, without taking into account the increased
numbers to which it gave employment in coal-mines, and in the carrying
trade by land and sea, and the stimulus which it gave to employment in
many ways in various parts of the country. Yet, important as had been the
advances made in his time, Mr. Wedgwood was of opinion that the
manufacture was but in its infancy, and that the improvements which he
had effected were of but small amount compared with those to which the
art was capable of attaining, through the continued industry and growing
intelligence of the manufacturers, and the natural facilities and political
advantages enjoyed by Great Britain; an opinion which has been fully
borne out by the progress which has since been effected in this important
branch of industry. In 1852 not fewer than 84,000,000 pieces of pottery
were exported from England to other countries, besides what were made for
home use. But it is not merely the quantity and value of the produce that is
entitled to consideration, but the improvement of the condition of the
population by whom this great branch of industry is conducted. When
Wedgwood began his labours, the Staffordshire district was only in a
half-civilized state. The people were poor, uncultivated, and few in number.
When Wedgwood's manufacture was firmly established, there was found
ample employment at good wages for three times the number of population;
while their moral advancement had kept pace with their material
improvement.

Men such as these are fairly entitled to take rank as the Industrial Heroes of
the civilized world. Their patient self- reliance amidst trials and difficulties,
their courage and perseverance in the pursuit of worthy objects, are not less
heroic of their kind than the bravery and devotion of the soldier and the
sailor, whose duty and pride it is heroically to defend what these valiant
leaders of industry have so heroically achieved.
CHAPTER IV 76

CHAPTER IV

--APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE

"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 labour, gather all."--D'Avenant. "Allez en avant, et la foi vous
viendra!"--D'Alembert.

The greatest results in life are usually attained by simple means, and the
exercise of ordinary qualities. The common life of every day, with its cares,
necessities, and duties, affords ample opportunity for acquiring experience
of the best kind; and its most beaten paths provide the true worker with
abundant scope for effort and room for self-improvement. The road of
human welfare lies along the old highway of steadfast well-doing; and they
who are the most persistent, and work in the truest spirit, will usually be the
most successful.

Fortune has often been blamed for her blindness; but fortune is not so blind
as men are. Those who look into practical life will find that fortune is
usually on the side of the industrious, as the winds and waves are on the
side of the best navigators. In the pursuit of even the highest branches of
human inquiry, the commoner qualities are found the most useful--such as
common sense, attention, application, and perseverance. Genius may not be
necessary, though even genius of the highest sort does not disdain the use
of these ordinary qualities. The very greatest men have been among the
least believers in the power of genius, and as worldly wise and persevering
as successful men of the commoner sort. Some have even defined genius to
be only common sense intensified. A distinguished teacher and president of
a college spoke of it as the power of making efforts. John Foster held it to
be the power of lighting one's own fire. Buffon said of genius "it is
patience."

Newton's was unquestionably a mind of the very highest order, and yet,
when asked by what means he had worked out his extraordinary
discoveries, he modestly answered, "By always thinking unto them." At
CHAPTER IV 77

another time he thus expressed his method of study: "I keep the subject
continually before me, and wait till the first dawnings open slowly by little
and little into a full and clear light." It was in Newton's case, as in every
other, only by diligent application and perseverance that his great
reputation was achieved. Even his recreation consisted in change of study,
laying down one subject to take up another. To Dr. Bentley he said: "If I
have done the public any service, it is due to nothing but industry and
patient thought." So Kepler, another great philosopher, speaking of his
studies and his progress, said: "As in Virgil, 'Fama mobilitate viget, vires
acquirit eundo,' so it was with me, that the diligent thought on these things
was the occasion of still further thinking; until at last I brooded with the
whole energy of my mind upon the subject."

The extraordinary results effected by dint of sheer industry and
perseverance, have led many distinguished men to doubt whether the gift of
genius be so exceptional an endowment as it is usually supposed to be.
Thus Voltaire held that it is only a very slight line of separation that divides
the man of genius from the man of ordinary mould. Beccaria was even of
opinion that all men might be poets and orators, and Reynolds that they
might be painters and sculptors. If this were really so, that stolid
Englishman might not have been so very far wrong after all, who, on
Canova's death, inquired of his brother whether it was "his intention to
carry on the business!" Locke, Helvetius, and Diderot believed that all men
have an equal aptitude for genius, and that what some are able to effect,
under the laws which regulate the operations of the intellect, must also be
within the reach of others who, under like circumstances, apply themselves
to like pursuits. But while admitting to the fullest extent the wonderful
achievements of labour, and recognising the fact that men of the most
distinguished genius have invariably been found the most indefatigable
workers, it must nevertheless be sufficiently obvious that, without the
original endowment of heart and brain, no amount of labour, however well
applied, could have produced a Shakespeare, a Newton, a Beethoven, or a
Michael Angelo.

Dalton, the chemist, repudiated the notion of his being "a genius,"
attributing everything which he had accomplished to simple industry and
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accumulation. John Hunter said of himself, "My mind is like a beehive; but
full as it is of buzz and apparent confusion, it is yet full of order and
regularity, and food collected with incessant industry from the choicest
stores of nature." We have, indeed, but to glance at the biographies of great
men to find that the most distinguished inventors, artists, thinkers, and
workers of all kinds, owe their success, in a great measure, to their
indefatigable industry and application. They were men who turned all
things to gold--even time itself. Disraeli the elder held that the secret of
success consisted in being master of your subject, such mastery being
attainable only through continuous application and study. Hence it happens
that the men who have most moved the world, have not been so much men
of genius, strictly so called, as men of intense mediocre abilities, and
untiring perseverance; not so often the gifted, of naturally bright and
shining qualities, as those who have applied themselves diligently to their
work, in whatsoever line that might lie. "Alas!" said a widow, speaking of
her brilliant but careless son, "he has not the gift of continuance." Wanting
in perseverance, such volatile natures are outstripped in the race of life by
the diligent and even the dull. "Che va piano, va longano, e va lontano,"
says the Italian proverb: Who goes slowly, goes long, and goes far.

Hence, a great point to be aimed at is to get the working quality well
trained. When that is done, the race will be found comparatively easy. We
must repeat and again repeat; facility will come with labour. Not even the
simplest art can be accomplished without it; and what difficulties it is found
capable of achieving! It was by early discipline and repetition that the late
Sir Robert Peel cultivated those remarkable, though still mediocre powers,
which rendered him so illustrious an ornament of the British Senate. When
a boy at Drayton Manor, his father was accustomed to set him up at table to
practise speaking extempore; and he early accustomed him to repeat as
much of the Sunday's sermon as he could remember. Little progress was
made at first, but by steady perseverance the habit of attention became
powerful, and the sermon was at length repeated almost verbatim. When
afterwards replying in succession to the arguments of his parliamentary
opponents--an art in which he was perhaps unrivalled--it was little surmised
that the extraordinary power of accurate remembrance which he displayed
on such occasions had been originally trained under the discipline of his
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father in the parish church of Drayton.

It is indeed marvellous what continuous application will effect in the
commonest of things. It may seem a simple affair to play upon a violin; yet
what a long and laborious practice it requires! Giardini said to a youth who
asked him how long it would take to learn it, "Twelve hours a day for
twenty years together." Industry, it is said, fait l'ours danser. The poor
figurante must devote years of incessant toil to her profitless task before
she can shine in it. When Taglioni was preparing herself for her evening
exhibition, she would, after a severe two hours' lesson from her father, fall
down exhausted, and had to be undressed, sponged, and resuscitated totally
unconscious. The agility and bounds of the evening were insured only at a
price like this.

Progress, however, of the best kind, is comparatively slow. Great results
cannot be achieved at once; and we must be satisfied to advance in life as
we walk, step by step. De Maistre says that "to know HOW TO WAIT is
the great secret of success." We must sow before we can reap, and often
have to wait long, content meanwhile to look patiently forward in hope; the
fruit best worth waiting for often ripening the slowest. But "time and
patience," says the Eastern proverb, "change the mulberry leaf to satin."

To wait patiently, however, men must work cheerfully. Cheerfulness is an
excellent working quality, imparting great elasticity to the character. As a
bishop has said, "Temper is nine-tenths of Christianity;" so are cheerfulness
and diligence nine-tenths of practical wisdom. They are the life and soul of
success, as well as of happiness; perhaps the very highest pleasure in life
consisting in clear, brisk, conscious working; energy, confidence, and every
other good quality mainly depending upon it. Sydney Smith, when
labouring as a parish priest at Foston-le-Clay, in Yorkshire,--though he did
not feel himself to be in his proper element,--went cheerfully to work in the
firm determination to do his best. "I am resolved," he said, "to like it, and
reconcile myself to it, which is more manly than to feign myself above it,
and to send up complaints by the post of being thrown away, and being
desolate, and such like trash." So Dr. Hook, when leaving Leeds for a new
sphere of labour said, "Wherever I may be, I shall, by God's blessing, do
CHAPTER IV 80

with my might what my hand findeth to do; and if I do not find work, I
shall make it."

Labourers for the public good especially, have to work long and patiently,
often uncheered by the prospect of immediate recompense or result. The
seeds they sow sometimes lie hidden under the winter's snow, and before
the spring comes the husbandman may have gone to his rest. It is not every
public worker who, like Rowland Hill, sees his great idea bring forth fruit
in his life-time. Adam Smith sowed the seeds of a great social amelioration
in that dingy old University of Glasgow where he so long laboured, and
laid the foundations of his 'Wealth of Nations;' but seventy years passed
before his work bore substantial fruits, nor indeed are they all gathered in
yet.

Nothing can compensate for the loss of hope in a man: it entirely changes
the character. "How can I work--how can I be happy," said a great but
miserable thinker, "when I have lost all hope?" One of the most cheerful
and courageous, because one of the most hopeful of workers, was Carey,
the missionary. When in India, it was no uncommon thing for him to weary
out three pundits, who officiated as his clerks, in one day, he himself taking
rest only in change of employment. Carey, the son of a shoe-maker, was
supported in his labours by Ward, the son of a carpenter, and Marsham, the
son of a weaver. By their labours, a magnificent college was erected at
Serampore; sixteen flourishing stations were established; the Bible was
translated into sixteen languages, and the seeds were sown of a beneficent
moral revolution in British India. Carey was never ashamed of the
humbleness of his origin. On one occasion, when at the Governor-General's
table he over-heard an officer opposite him asking another, loud enough to
be heard, whether Carey had not once been a shoemaker: "No, sir,"
exclaimed Carey immediately; "only a cobbler." An eminently
characteristic anecdote has been told of his perseverance as a boy. When
climbing a tree one day, his foot slipped, and he fell to the ground, breaking
his leg by the fall. He was confined to his bed for weeks, but when he
recovered and was able to walk without support, the very first thing he did
was to go and climb that tree. Carey had need of this sort of dauntless
courage for the great missionary work of his life, and nobly and resolutely
CHAPTER IV 81

he did it.

It was a maxim of Dr. Young, the philosopher, that "Any man can do what
any other man has done;" and it is unquestionable that he himself never
recoiled from any trials to which he determined to subject himself. It is
related of him, that the first time he mounted a horse, he was in company
with the grandson of Mr. Barclay of Ury, the well-known sportsman; when
the horseman who preceded them leapt a high fence. Young wished to
imitate him, but fell off his horse in the attempt. Without saying a word, he
remounted, made a second effort, and was again unsuccessful, but this time
he was not thrown further than on to the horse's neck, to which he clung. At
the third trial, he succeeded, and cleared the fence.

The story of Timour the Tartar learning a lesson of perseverance under
adversity from the spider is well known. Not less interesting is the anecdote
of Audubon, the American ornithologist, as related by himself: "An
accident," he says, "which happened to two hundred of my original
drawings, nearly put a stop to my researches in ornithology. I shall relate it,
merely to show how far enthusiasm--for by no other name can I call my
perseverance-- may enable the preserver of nature to surmount the most
disheartening difficulties. I left the village of Henderson, in Kentucky,
situated on the banks of the Ohio, where I resided for several years, to
proceed to Philadelphia on business. I looked to my drawings before my
departure, placed them carefully in a wooden box, and gave them in charge
of a relative, with injunctions to see that no injury should happen to them.
My absence was of several months; and when I returned, after having
enjoyed the pleasures of home for a few days, I inquired after my box, and
what I was pleased to call my treasure. The box was produced and opened;
but reader, feel for me--a pair of Norway rats had taken possession of the
whole, and reared a young family among the gnawed bits of paper, which,
but a month previous, represented nearly a thousand inhabitants of air! The
burning beat which instantly rushed through my brain was too great to be
endured without affecting my whole nervous system. I slept for several
nights, and the days passed like days of oblivion--until the animal powers
being recalled into action through the strength of my constitution, I took up
my gun, my notebook, and my pencils, and went forth to the woods as gaily
CHAPTER IV 82

as if nothing had happened. I felt pleased that I might now make better
drawings than before; and, ere a period not exceeding three years had
elapsed, my portfolio was again filled."

The accidental destruction of Sir Isaac Newton's papers, by his little dog
'Diamond' upsetting a lighted taper upon his desk, by which the elaborate
calculations of many years were in a moment destroyed, is a well-known
anecdote, and need not be repeated: it is said that the loss caused the
philosopher such profound grief that it seriously injured his health, and
impaired his understanding. An accident of a somewhat similar kind
happened to the MS. of Mr. Carlyle's first volume of his 'French
Revolution.' He had lent the MS. to a literary neighbour to peruse. By some
mischance, it had been left lying on the parlour floor, and become
forgotten. Weeks ran on, and the historian sent for his work, the printers
being loud for "copy." Inquiries were made, and it was found that the
maid-of-all-work, finding what she conceived to be a bundle of waste paper
on the floor, had used it to light the kitchen and parlour fires with! Such
was the answer returned to Mr. Carlyle; and his feelings may be imagined.
There was, however, no help for him but to set resolutely to work to
re-write the book; and he turned to and did it. He had no draft, and was
compelled to rake up from his memory facts, ideas, and expressions, which
had been long since dismissed. The composition of the book in the first
instance had been a work of pleasure; the re-writing of it a second time was
one of pain and anguish almost beyond belief. That he persevered and
finished the volume under such circumstances, affords an instance of
determination of purpose which has seldom been surpassed.

The lives of eminent inventors are eminently illustrative of the same quality
of perseverance. George Stephenson, when addressing young men, was
accustomed to sum up his best advice to them, in the words, "Do as I have
done--persevere." He had worked at the improvement of his locomotive for
some fifteen years before achieving his decisive victory at Rainhill; and
Watt was engaged for some thirty years upon the condensing-engine before
he brought it to perfection. But there are equally striking illustrations of
perseverance to be found in every other branch of science, art, and industry.
Perhaps one of the most interesting is that connected with the
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disentombment of the Nineveh marbles, and the discovery of the long-lost
cuneiform or arrow-headed character in which the inscriptions on them are
written--a kind of writing which had been lost to the world since the period
of the Macedonian conquest of Persia.

An intelligent cadet of the East India Company, stationed at Kermanshah,
in Persia, had observed the curious cuneiform inscriptions on the old
monuments in the neighbourhood--so old that all historical traces of them
had been lost,--and amongst the inscriptions which he copied was that on
the celebrated rock of Behistun--a perpendicular rock rising abruptly some
1700 feet from the plain, the lower part bearing inscriptions for the space of
about 300 feet in three languages--Persian, Scythian, and Assyrian.
Comparison of the known with the unknown, of the language which
survived with the language that had been lost, enabled this cadet to acquire
some knowledge of the cuneiform character, and even to form an alphabet.
Mr. (afterwards Sir Henry) Rawlinson sent his tracings home for
examination. No professors in colleges as yet knew anything of the
cuneiform character; but there was a ci-devant clerk of the East India
House--a modest unknown man of the name of Norris--who had made this
little-understood subject his study, to whom the tracings were submitted;
and so accurate was his knowledge, that, though he had never seen the
Behistun rock, he pronounced that the cadet had not copied the puzzling
inscription with proper exactness. Rawlinson, who was still in the
neighbourhood of the rock, compared his copy with the original, and found
that Norris was right; and by further comparison and careful study the
knowledge of the cuneiform writing was thus greatly advanced.

But to make the learning of these two self-taught men of avail, a third
labourer was necessary in order to supply them with material for the
exercise of their skill. Such a labourer presented himself in the person of
Austen Layard, originally an articled clerk in the office of a London
solicitor. One would scarcely have expected to find in these three men, a
cadet, an India-House clerk, and a lawyer's clerk, the discoverers of a
forgotten language, and of the buried history of Babylon; yet it was so.
Layard was a youth of only twenty-two, travelling in the East, when he was
possessed with a desire to penetrate the regions beyond the Euphrates.
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Accompanied by a single companion, trusting to his arms for protection,
and, what was better, to his cheerfulness, politeness, and chivalrous
bearing, he passed safely amidst tribes at deadly war with each other; and,
after the lapse of many years, with comparatively slender means at his
command, but aided by application and perseverance, resolute will and
purpose, and almost sublime patience,--borne up throughout by his
passionate enthusiasm for discovery and research,--he succeeded in laying
bare and digging up an amount of historical treasures, the like of which has
probably never before been collected by the industry of any one man. Not
less than two miles of bas-reliefs were thus brought to light by Mr. Layard.
The selection of these valuable antiquities, now placed in the British
Museum, was found so curiously corroborative of the scriptural records of
events which occurred some three thousand years ago, that they burst upon
the world almost like a new revelation. And the story of the disentombment
of these remarkable works, as told by Mr. Layard himself in his
'Monuments of Nineveh,' will always be regarded as one of the most
charming and unaffected records which we possess of individual enterprise,
industry, and energy.

The career of the Comte de Buffon presents another remarkable illustration
of the power of patient industry as well as of his own saying, that "Genius
is patience." Notwithstanding the great results achieved by him in natural
history, Buffon, when a youth, was regarded as of mediocre talents. His
mind was slow in forming itself, and slow in reproducing what it had
acquired. He was also constitutionally indolent; and being born to good
estate, it might be supposed that he would indulge his liking for ease and
luxury. Instead of which, he early formed the resolution of denying himself
pleasure, and devoting himself to study and self-culture. Regarding time as
a treasure that was limited, and finding that he was losing many hours by
lying a-bed in the mornings, he determined to break himself of the habit.
He struggled hard against it for some time, but failed in being able to rise at
the hour he had fixed. He then called his servant, Joseph, to his help, and
promised him the reward of a crown every time that he succeeded in getting
him up before six. At first, when called, Buffon declined to rise--pleaded
that he was ill, or pretended anger at being disturbed; and on the Count at
length getting up, Joseph found that he had earned nothing but reproaches
CHAPTER IV 85

for having permitted his master to lie a-bed contrary to his express orders.
At length the valet determined to earn his crown; and again and again he
forced Buffon to rise, notwithstanding his entreaties, expostulations, and
threats of immediate discharge from his service. One morning Buffon was
unusually obstinate, and Joseph found it necessary to resort to the extreme
measure of dashing a basin of ice-cold water under the bed-clothes, the
effect of which was instantaneous. By the persistent use of such means,
Buffon at length conquered his habit; and he was accustomed to say that he
owed to Joseph three or four volumes of his Natural History.

For forty years of his life, Buffon worked every morning at his desk from
nine till two, and again in the evening from five till nine. His diligence was
so continuous and so regular that it became habitual. His biographer has
said of him, "Work was his necessity; his studies were the charm of his life;
and towards the last term of his glorious career he frequently said that he
still hoped to be able to consecrate to them a few more years." He was a
most conscientious worker, always studying to give the reader his best
thoughts, expressed in the very best manner. He was never wearied with
touching and retouching his compositions, so that his style may be
pronounced almost perfect. He wrote the 'Epoques de la Nature' not fewer
than eleven times before he was satisfied with it; although he had thought
over the work about fifty years. He was a thorough man of business, most
orderly in everything; and he was accustomed to say that genius without
order lost three-fourths of its power. His great success as a writer was the
result mainly of his painstaking labour and diligent application. "Buffon,"
observed Madame Necker, "strongly persuaded that genius is the result of a
profound attention directed to a particular subject, said that he was
thoroughly wearied out when composing his first writings, but compelled
himself to return to them and go over them carefully again, even when he
thought he had already brought them to a certain degree of perfection; and
that at length he found pleasure instead of weariness in this long and
elaborate correction." It ought also to be added that Buffon wrote and
published all his great works while afflicted by one of the most painful
diseases to which the human frame is subject.
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Literary life affords abundant illustrations of the same power of
perseverance; and perhaps no career is more instructive, viewed in this
light, than that of Sir Walter Scott. His admirable working qualities were
trained in a lawyer's office, where he pursued for many years a sort of
drudgery scarcely above that of a copying clerk. His daily dull routine
made his evenings, which were his own, all the more sweet; and he
generally devoted them to reading and study. He himself attributed to his
prosaic office discipline that habit of steady, sober diligence, in which mere
literary men are so often found wanting. As a copying clerk he was allowed
3d. for every page containing a certain number of words; and he
sometimes, by extra work, was able to copy as many as 120 pages in
twenty-four hours, thus earning some 30s.; out of which he would
occasionally purchase an odd volume, otherwise beyond his means.

During his after-life Scott was wont to pride himself upon being a man of
business, and he averred, in contradiction to what he called the cant of
sonneteers, that there was no necessary connection between genius and an
aversion or contempt for the common duties of life. On the contrary, he was
of opinion that to spend some fair portion of every day in any matter-of-fact
occupation was good for the higher faculties themselves in the upshot.
While afterwards acting as clerk to the Court of Session in Edinburgh, he
performed his literary work chiefly before breakfast, attending the court
during the day, where he authenticated registered deeds and writings of
various kinds. On the whole, says Lockhart, "it forms one of the most
remarkable features in his history, that throughout the most active period of
his literary career, he must have devoted a large proportion of his hours,
during half at least of every year, to the conscientious discharge of
professional duties." It was a principle of action which he laid down for
himself, that he must earn his living by business, and not by literature. On
one occasion he said, "I determined that literature should be my staff, not
my crutch, and that the profits of my literary labour, however convenient
otherwise, should not, if I could help it, become necessary to my ordinary
expenses."

His punctuality was one of the most carefully cultivated of his habits,
otherwise it had not been possible for him to get through so enormous an
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amount of literary labour. He made it a rule to answer every letter received
by him on the same day, except where inquiry and deliberation were
requisite. Nothing else could have enabled him to keep abreast with the
flood of communications that poured in upon him and sometimes put his
good nature to the severest test. It was his practice to rise by five o'clock,
and light his own fire. He shaved and dressed with deliberation, and was
seated at his desk by six o'clock, with his papers arranged before him in the
most accurate order, his works of reference marshalled round him on the
floor, while at least one favourite dog lay watching his eye, outside the line
of books. Thus by the time the family assembled for breakfast, between
nine and ten, he had done enough--to use his own words--to break the neck
of the day's work. But with all his diligent and indefatigable industry, and
his immense knowledge, the result of many years' patient labour, Scott
always spoke with the greatest diffidence of his own powers. On one
occasion he said, "Throughout every part of my career I have felt pinched
and hampered by my own ignorance."

Such is true wisdom and humility; for the more a man really knows, the
less conceited he will be. The student at Trinity College who went up to his
professor to take leave of him because he had "finished his education," was
wisely rebuked by the professor's reply, "Indeed! I am only beginning
mine." The superficial person who has obtained a smattering of many
things, but knows nothing well, may pride himself upon his gifts; but the
sage humbly confesses that "all he knows is, that he knows nothing," or like
Newton, that he has been only engaged in picking shells by the sea shore,
while the great ocean of truth lies all unexplored before him.

The lives of second-rate literary men furnish equally remarkable
illustrations of the power of perseverance. The late John Britton, author of
'The Beauties of England and Wales,' and of many valuable architectural
works, was born in a miserable cot in Kingston, Wiltshire. His father had
been a baker and maltster, but was ruined in trade and became insane while
Britton was yet a child. The boy received very little schooling, but a great
deal of bad example, which happily did not corrupt him. He was early in
life set to labour with an uncle, a tavern-keeper in Clerkenwell, under
whom he bottled, corked, and binned wine for more than five years. His
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health failing him, his uncle turned him adrift in the world, with only two
guineas, the fruits of his five years' service, in his pocket. During the next
seven years of his life he endured many vicissitudes and hardships. Yet he
says, in his autobiography, "in my poor and obscure lodgings, at
eighteenpence a week, I indulged in study, and often read in bed during the
winter evenings, because I could not afford a fire." Travelling on foot to
Bath, he there obtained an engagement as a cellarman, but shortly after we
find him back in the metropolis again almost penniless, shoeless, and
shirtless. He succeeded, however, in obtaining employment as a cellarman
at the London Tavern, where it was his duty to be in the cellar from seven
in the morning until eleven at night. His health broke down under this
confinement in the dark, added to the heavy work; and he then engaged
himself, at fifteen shillings a week, to an attorney,--for he had been
diligently cultivating the art of writing during the few spare minutes that he
could call his own. While in this employment, he devoted his leisure
principally to perambulating the bookstalls, where he read books by
snatches which he could not buy, and thus picked up a good deal of odd
knowledge. Then he shifted to another office, at the advanced wages of
twenty shillings a week, still reading and studying. At twenty-eight he was
able to write a book, which he published under the title of 'The Enterprising
Adventures of Pizarro;' and from that time until his death, during a period
of about fifty-five years, Britton was occupied in laborious literary
occupation. The number of his published works is not fewer than
eighty-seven; the most important being 'The Cathedral Antiquities of
England,' in fourteen volumes, a truly magnificent work; itself the best
monument of John Britton's indefatigable industry.

London, the landscape gardener, was a man of somewhat similar character,
possessed of an extraordinary working power. The son of a farmer near
Edinburgh, he was early inured to work. His skill in drawing plans and
making sketches of scenery induced his father to train him for a landscape
gardener. During his apprenticeship he sat up two whole nights every week
to study; yet he worked harder during the day than any labourer. In the
course of his night studies he learnt French, and before he was eighteen he
translated a life of Abelard for an Encyclopaedia. He was so eager to make
progress in life, that when only twenty, while working as a gardener in
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England, he wrote down in his note-book, "I am now twenty years of age,
and perhaps a third part of my life has passed away, and yet what have I
done to benefit my fellow men?" an unusual reflection for a youth of only
twenty. From French he proceeded to learn German, and rapidly mastered
that language. Having taken a large farm, for the purpose of introducing
Scotch improvements in the art of agriculture, he shortly succeeded in
realising a considerable income. The continent being thrown open at the
end of the war, he travelled abroad for the purpose of inquiring into the
system of gardening and agriculture in other countries. He twice repeated
his journeys, and the results were published in his Encyclopaedias, which
are among the most remarkable works of their kind,--distinguished for the
immense mass of useful matter which they contain, collected by an amount
of industry and labour which has rarely been equalled.

The career of Samuel Drew is not less remarkable than any of those which
we have cited. His father was a hard-working labourer of the parish of St.
Austell, in Cornwall. Though poor, he contrived to send his two sons to a
penny-a-week school in the neighbourhood. Jabez, the elder, took delight in
learning, and made great progress in his lessons; but Samuel, the younger,
was a dunce, notoriously given to mischief and playing truant. When about
eight years old he was put to manual labour, earning three-halfpence a day
as a buddle-boy at a tin mine. At ten he was apprenticed to a shoemaker,
and while in this employment he endured much hardship,-- living, as he
used to say, "like a toad under a harrow." He often thought of running away
and becoming a pirate, or something of the sort, and he seems to have
grown in recklessness as he grew in years. In robbing orchards he was
usually a leader; and, as he grew older, he delighted to take part in any
poaching or smuggling adventure. When about seventeen, before his
apprenticeship was out, he ran away, intending to enter on board a
man-of-war; but, sleeping in a hay-field at night cooled him a little, and he
returned to his trade.

Drew next removed to the neighbourhood of Plymouth to work at his
shoemaking business, and while at Cawsand he won a prize for
cudgel-playing, in which he seems to have been an adept. While living
there, he had nearly lost his life in a smuggling exploit which he had joined,
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partly induced by the love of adventure, and partly by the love of gain, for
his regular wages were not more than eight shillings a-week. One night,
notice was given throughout Crafthole, that a smuggler was off the coast,
ready to land her cargo; on which the male population of the place--nearly
all smugglers--made for the shore. One party remained on the rocks to
make signals and dispose of the goods as they were landed; and another
manned the boats, Drew being of the latter party. The night was intensely
dark, and very little of the cargo had been landed, when the wind rose, with
a heavy sea. The men in the boats, however, determined to persevere, and
several trips were made between the smuggler, now standing farther out to
sea, and the shore. One of the men in the boat in which Drew was, had his
hat blown off by the wind, and in attempting to recover it, the boat was
upset. Three of the men were immediately drowned; the others clung to the
boat for a time, but finding it drifting out to sea, they took to swimming.
They were two miles from land, and the night was intensely dark. After
being about three hours in the water, Drew reached a rock near the shore,
with one or two others, where he remained benumbed with cold till
morning, when he and his companions were discovered and taken off, more
dead than alive. A keg of brandy from the cargo just landed was brought,
the head knocked in with a hatchet, and a bowlfull of the liquid presented to
the survivors; and, shortly after, Drew was able to walk two miles through
deep snow, to his lodgings.

This was a very unpromising beginning of a life; and yet this same Drew,
scapegrace, orchard-robber, shoemaker, cudgel-player, and smuggler,
outlived the recklessness of his youth and became distinguished as a
minister of the Gospel and a writer of good books. Happily, before it was
too late, the energy which characterised him was turned into a more healthy
direction, and rendered him as eminent in usefulness as he had before been
in wickedness. His father again took him back to St. Austell, and found
employment for him as a journeyman shoemaker. Perhaps his recent escape
from death had tended to make the young man serious, as we shortly find
him attracted by the forcible preaching of Dr. Adam Clarke, a minister of
the Wesleyan Methodists. His brother having died about the same time, the
impression of seriousness was deepened; and thenceforward he was an
altered man. He began anew the work of education, for he had almost
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forgotten how to read and write; and even after several years' practice, a
friend compared his writing to the traces of a spider dipped in ink set to
crawl upon paper. Speaking of himself, about that time, Drew afterwards
said, "The more I read, the more I felt my own ignorance; and the more I
felt my ignorance, the more invincible became my energy to surmount it.
Every leisure moment was now employed in reading one thing or another.
Having to support myself by manual labour, my time for reading was but
little, and to overcome this disadvantage, my usual method was to place a
book before me while at meat, and at every repast I read five or six pages."
The perusal of Locke's 'Essay on the Understanding' gave the first
metaphysical turn to his mind. "It awakened me from my stupor," said he,
"and induced me to form a resolution to abandon the grovelling views
which I had been accustomed to entertain."

Drew began business on his own account, with a capital of a few shillings;
but his character for steadiness was such that a neighbouring miller offered
him a loan, which was accepted, and, success attending his industry, the
debt was repaid at the end of a year. He started with a determination to
"owe no man anything," and he held to it in the midst of many privations.
Often he went to bed supperless, to avoid rising in debt. His ambition was
to achieve independence by industry and economy, and in this he gradually
succeeded. In the midst of incessant labour, he sedulously strove to
improve his mind, studying astronomy, history, and metaphysics. He was
induced to pursue the latter study chiefly because it required fewer books to
consult than either of the others. "It appeared to be a thorny path," he said,
"but I determined, nevertheless, to enter, and accordingly began to tread it."

Added to his labours in shoemaking and metaphysics, Drew became a local
preacher and a class leader. He took an eager interest in politics, and his
shop became a favourite resort with the village politicians. And when they
did not come to him, he went to them to talk over public affairs. This so
encroached upon his time that he found it necessary sometimes to work
until midnight to make up for the hours lost during the day. His political
fervour become the talk of the village. While busy one night hammering
away at a shoe-sole, a little boy, seeing a light in the shop, put his mouth to
the keyhole of the door, and called out in a shrill pipe, "Shoemaker!
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shoe-maker! work by night and run about by day!" A friend, to whom Drew
afterwards told the story, asked, "And did not you run after the boy, and
strap him?" "No, no," was the reply; "had a pistol been fired off at my ear, I
could not have been more dismayed or confounded. I dropped my work,
and said to myself, 'True, true! but you shall never have that to say of me
again.' To me that cry was as the voice of God, and it has been a word in
season throughout my life. I learnt from it not to leave till to- morrow the
work of to-day, or to idle when I ought to be working."

From that moment Drew dropped politics, and stuck to his work, reading
and studying in his spare hours: but he never allowed the latter pursuit to
interfere with his business, though it frequently broke in upon his rest. He
married, and thought of emigrating to America; but he remained working
on. His literary taste first took the direction of poetical composition; and
from some of the fragments which have been preserved, it appears that his
speculations as to the immateriality and immortality of the soul had their
origin in these poetical musings. His study was the kitchen, where his
wife's bellows served him for a desk; and he wrote amidst the cries and
cradlings of his children. Paine's 'Age of Reason' having appeared about
this time and excited much interest, he composed a pamphlet in refutation
of its arguments, which was published. He used afterwards to say that it
was the 'Age of Reason' that made him an author. Various pamphlets from
his pen shortly appeared in rapid succession, and a few years later, while
still working at shoemaking, he wrote and published his admirable 'Essay
on the Immateriality and Immortality of the Human Soul,' which he sold for
twenty pounds, a great sum in his estimation at the time. The book went
through many editions, and is still prized.

Drew was in no wise puffed up by his success, as many young authors are,
but, long after he had become celebrated as a writer, used to be seen
sweeping the street before his door, or helping his apprentices to carry in
the winter's coals. Nor could he, for some time, bring himself to regard
literature as a profession to live by. His first care was, to secure an honest
livelihood by his business, and to put into the "lottery of literary success,"
as he termed it, only the surplus of his time. At length, however, he devoted
himself wholly to literature, more particularly in connection with the
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Wesleyan body; editing one of their magazines, and superintending the
publication of several of their denominational works. He also wrote in the
'Eclectic Review,' and compiled and published a valuable history of his
native county, Cornwall, with numerous other works. Towards the close of
his career, he said of himself,--"Raised from one of the lowest stations in
society, I have endeavoured through life to bring my family into a state of
respectability, by honest industry, frugality, and a high regard for my moral
character. Divine providence has smiled on my exertions, and crowned my
wishes with success."

The late Joseph Hume pursued a very different career, but worked in an
equally persevering spirit. He was a man of moderate parts, but of great
industry and unimpeachable honesty of purpose. The motto of his life was
"Perseverance," and well, he acted up to it. His father dying while he was a
mere child, his mother opened a small shop in Montrose, and toiled hard to
maintain her family and bring them up respectably. Joseph she put
apprentice to a surgeon, and educated for the medical profession. Having
got his diploma, he made several voyages to India as ship's surgeon, {19}
and afterwards obtained a cadetship in the Company's service. None
worked harder, or lived more temperately, than he did, and, securing the
confidence of his superiors, who found him a capable man in the
performance of his duty, they gradually promoted him to higher offices. In
1803 he was with the division of the army under General Powell, in the
Mahratta war; and the interpreter having died, Hume, who had meanwhile
studied and mastered the native languages, was appointed in his stead. He
was next made chief of the medical staff. But as if this were not enough to
occupy his full working power, he undertook in addition the offices of
paymaster and post-master, and filled them satisfactorily. He also
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