180 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
I had scarcely arrived in town before I was
invited to assist Mr. Fonblanque in the “Examiner.” His articles had long attracted
great attention. He was, without exception, the neatest political writer of the day. There
was always condensation, sound sense, and humour, with the love of the truthful, in his
articles. It has been contended that he could not keep up a sustained flight, in other
words, dilate on a given subject in the approved mode of the modern school. This is
probable. A style so good and deservedly popular could gain nothing by being drawn into
wire. The remark was probably made by critics who were expected not to be silent, and had
nothing else to say. Few merited more the rare commendation of having known how far to go
in order to attract, and then to impress himself upon the memory with effect. A tried
writer of liberal principles, and high qualifications, thinking and acting as a gentleman,
is a praise that cannot be denied him by any, much less by myself, ready as I am at all
times to confess obligations, and never to evade them as
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 181 |
The death of Lord Holland happened
about this time. I had but one communication from him after 1829, dated from Ampthill. I
first saw him at Falmouth, when I was a boy, as he was about to embark for Spain. I then
regarded him because he was the nephew of Fox, at that
time so noted a name. His appearance made me fancy a resemblance between him and
Fox, in the caricatures of the day, for I had then no personal
knowledge of him beyond that. I have mentioned my communication with his lordship nine
years after this, in relation to my letters on the Libel law. A gentleman in manner, an
excellent hearted man, remarkable for an absence of all worldliness. He had more moral
courage than any other peer. He never skulked behind paltry reservations, basing his
arguments upon policy in place of justice. I am sorry so little judgment was shown in
editing his papers. Where would many excellent men be if private thoughts and memoranda,
created at idle moments, and not reconsidered, were given crudely to the world! Of how many
natives and foreigners, now no more, was Holland House not the rendezvous! Of foreigners in
my own little circle were Foscolo, Blanco White, Telesforo
Trueba, Arguelles, and Cayetano Valdez. Lord Holland used to
tell a story with some humour of his father, or grandfather—I forget which. His
relative had brought a bill into the House, which was sadly mutilated with red ink in the
way of alteration and amendment. One of the opposing peers called it “the noble
Lord’s bill.” His lordship rose, asserted that, so mutilated, the bill was not
his. Then, pointing
182 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
Look, in this place ran Cassius’
dagger through— See what a rent the envious Casca made! Through this the well-beloved Brutus
stabbed! |
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 183 |
“What does Lady Holland think of it?”
“Think, my dear Sir?” said Rogers, “why, that she could just then as soon have buried the colonel as the kid.”
A gentleman whom I knew, Mr. Pryce Gordon, remembered her ladyship when a girl of sixteen. Her father was a character, and then resided at Bristol. He was principally noted for the tricks he used to play off upon his neighbours.
How the death-list of remarkable persons increases as our days career
onwards!—how very fast men seem to pass away! Are we no better than an odour, to be
184 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 185 |
To the calamity of ignorance we must look for most of the evils which
afflict us, but the larger part of mankind must ever be in comparative darkness, the
capacity for the acquirement of knowledge being wanting to them. The difference of social
and bodily condition is reflected in the human mind. It is no more possible to make a great
number of persons comprehend and act uniformly upon plans conducive to their own welfare,
than it is to teach them to comprehend Euclid. A
proportion, greater than we dream, cannot be taught more than is sufficient to regulate, in
some degree, the labour by which they contrive to exist. I have tried again and again to
instruct a countryman in a few plain truths for his own advantage, but in vain. A momentary
impression was made and no more. He relapsed into his old habits, he returned to his custom
as the dog returns to his vomit, and exhibited himself little superior to that animal in
sagacity. Tens of thousands must be ignorant because by their obtuseness nature intended
they should be—instruction being vain in their behalf. The notion of an equality of
the mental calibre is as Utopian as an equality of conditions. It never did nor can exist,
and therefore the happiness of the individual in life is not made dependent upon his
ability for acquiring knowledge. At the present moment the practice of a few common place
precautions, the spirit of adventure for gain, and a wider scope of action for the
inventions of a few gifted and studious persons, are considered the fruits of the general
intellect, in place of the results of traffic wholly unconscious of the benefit
186 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
It is pleasant at fitting seasons, even under disappointment, to
converse with oneself unreservedly, and to be honest in self-accusation. We thus administer
correction to our errors. We find, too, a source of great enjoyment in the supposition of
better things attaching to a more advanced state of social existence than a dull reality
proffers us, changing our existing domicile for that of fairy land. It may be similar to
the change between sanity and madness that distinguishes the dream-weaver from the plodding
man of every day life. The difference may only consist of a thin partition at best, but it
is an essential difference for all that. Why may we not now and then become unconscious of
the reality of what is about us, to enjoy something better,
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 187 |
188 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
“Where are you going?”
“It is a secret, but we can trust thee—make the coachman drive to Covent Garden. We are going to change our outer dresses in the carriage on the way—help us up with the blinds.”
Such is the mode in which life begins its hypocrisies, when things of the heart, in which the heart has no share, are forced into external observance. In this way, it is that incipient hypocrisies are nurtured into those full grown, and society becomes inoculated with the vice. The joy of hypocrisy may be only momentary, as Job tells us, but the character is one of social expansion, and never-ending endurance.
A contest was expected to take place for the city of Lichfield—parliament being dissolved. I was invited to go down and aid in supporting my old friends. There was a stern determination to turn out Lord Alfred Paget. The Tory opposition well knew that General Sir George Anson could not be shaken, and, curious enough, it had no objection to vote for a Whig and a Tory member, in order to secure a few votes in return, a precious display of principle, common in the Bull family. I was informed it was to be “war to the knife.” I refused an important professional engagement offered me, unluckily, at that exact moment, and started from town with Lord A. Paget.
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 189 |
The opposing candidate was Captain Dyott, the son of General Dyott, whose ancestor I have already mentioned as a lucky marksman. The general might, while sticking to his colours as a Tory, have rendered his opposition courteous, which he did not. We reached the city, and began the canvass on the same day. This might seem a light affair, had not the city and county of Lichfield extended in a radius of seven’ miles from the Guildhall, and, as it was found afterwards, included Drayton Manor, Sir Robert Peel’s estate, Sir Robert not having yet become a free-trader. The ground was subsequently measured, and the baronet’s right established.
With opportunities in my youth of observing the old system of borough
management at scenes, mis-named elections, when many members were returned by a
pro forma farce, it would be untrue to
state that this constitutional act is not now greatly improved. Yet no one can watch the
proceedings in some places at present, a little behind the curtain, and not confess that
theory and practice at elections are still too often greatly at variance. The fault is in
the people, and their determination in practice to consider their private interests before
their public duty. They call for reform: why do they not reform themselves? Is it not from
the same mental delinquency that makes them demand laws restraining the worthier classes in
society from certain indulgences, that of fermented liquors, for example, because they
cannot themselves refrain from the most grovelling vices, owing to their incapacity for
obeying the manly resolution which belongs to rational beings. They must be drunkards and
gluttons, unless restrained
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I have seen much of elections, yet as an actor I have had little to do with them. Too great a number have a twist the wrong way, and the details are often nauseous; in the more corrupt instances, detestable. The canvass is a feast of double dealing, full of revulsion to every high mind. The celebrated Alderman Beckford, so great a favourite in the metropolis, would never canvas at all. He contended that it was an indirect attempt to bias electors, exceedingly unbecoming. Even before the Reform Act, election contests had become less headstrong than before.
A town of eight thousand inhabitants, the representation of which was
vested in twenty-one persons, “who were in the interest” of two peers, I
resided in for some years. One of these, wishing to return both members, the number of
votes being divided equally, called the casting vote aside, saying he had ten thousand
pounds in his pocket, and the whole sum should be that voter’s in exchange for his
vote. “No, my lord,” he replied, “the whole earth for a bribe
should not make me break my word. I have given it to Lord
F——.” This voter was a man of a small income. The
peer in whose interest he voted did not forget
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 191 |
To return to Lichfield. The Close and its wide ecclesiastical æsophagus, recalling that of Gargantua, when eating for its own interests, swallowed Whig and Tory according to its prospective objects. It was still as craving, but over an empty dish. The absence of corruption was now remarkable. It had once been strikingly displayed, to the injury of the real electors. A patron of some mark was wanting, the great supporter of the new opposition being only a local attorney.
The Close people registered their votes with due dignity, but here
their power was stayed for the first time, and they were represented by the individual
above-mentioned. The weather was warm, and the bustle considerable. On the Saturday night,
well-fagged, we sought the lofty shades of Beaudesert. Dust, heat, speechifying,
complimenting, exhausts the spirits even under party excitement, not to speak of tobacco
fumes and beer ever under the nose. The contest was kept up with vigour to the last, and
the result, a majority of nine or ten, only showed the exertions which had been made on
both sides. The state of the poll at the close was announced just in time to save the post.
The successful candidate, hemmed in on all sides, begged me to announce his success to his
father, a task I achieved with difficulty within post time. The Marquis wrote by return, stating that, “Independently of his
feelings for his son, he rejoiced most sincerely in the event on public
grounds.” This was, indeed, a much greater triumph than that at a common
election. It
192 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
Death has since deprived his country of this distinguished nobleman,
full of years and honours, one of those who in a great nation, stands among the foremost
for many of those high qualities which belonged to the best of the old school, rather than
the new, of the heroic era rather than that of traffic, better estimated in lofty
historical records than in the staple of common panegyric; in other words, more calculated
for the admiration of the discriminating few, than the applause of those who judge by the
vulgar standard of every day opinion. The Marquis of
Anglesey was singularly disinterested, high-minded, candid, chivalrous,
without a particle of guile, in honour sensitive, in kindness foremost, in dealing
gentlemanly, plain, and somewhat blunt of address, affable, never suffering his social
superiority to be felt, he was the last with whom an ill-bred person could take a liberty,
or a well-bred one feel constraint. His manners were natural, and not the offspring of
study or affectation; his carriage elegant, but perfectly simple. He was one of
nature’s gentlemen, and from always thinking in accordance with the character, it
governed his personal bearing. A mean action on his part was an impossibility. With high
spirit, his sterling courage tempting him, in some instances, to hazard his squadrons
farther than was politic, leading them personally, with a daring impetuosity that looked
more tc> the impulse of overflowing valour than to the rules of military conduct, as at
Sahagan, where, with four hundred men, he defeated eight hundred, sword in
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 193 |
There was a singular contrast remarked, in regard to the two lord-lieutenants, Anglesey and Wellesley, who followed one another in filling that post in Ireland:—Lord Anglesey unaffected, simple, manly, with his tall graceful figure, asking no extrinsic aid from pomp and circumstance, and full of self-reliance. Lord Wellesley, insignificant in figure, scrupulous in the display of snow-white linen, and dangling jewellery, a singular mixture of talent and frivolity, fond of show, and destitute of that manly simplicity which was a distinguishing trait in the character of his brother, the Duke of Wellington.
The Marquis of Anglesey was a great
favourite in Ireland with all, except the Orangemen. Both these
194 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
I returned to town with the newly elected members, the veteran cavalry commander, Sir George Anson, now no more, having resumed his seat; a most amiable, soldier, a disposition remarkable in the whole Anson family. When we reached Tamworth, we found Sir Robert Peel addressing the people. His audience was not numerous. I have already remarked the want of power in Sir Robert, of adapting his style of oratory to his hearers. His address then was far above the grasp of the class of persons composing the larger part of his audience.
A petition, frivolous and even ridiculous, was presented against Lord Alfred Paget’s return, and came to nothing. A local history of the above proceedings was afterwards published, in which the writer thought fit to compliment me, in terms which to repeat would be egotistical, considering how little in behalf of his object, although he thought so much of it, I was able to contribute.
In the meanwhile, I matured for others a scheme
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 195 |
Hitherto I had been ruled in all I had done by a stern desire of independent action. I had set out in life with supporting liberal principles. I had laboured a hundred times, and toiled hard for years, in order to uphold the principles of the Fox party. What little cost I might have incurred, I bore myself. I was never paid my expences but once, at the last election of which I have spoken, and then only for loss of time, because I never demanded them. I imagined that if not too great a self-sacrifice, every freeman ought to avoid, above all things, suffering money considerations to interfere with public duties. This was romantic, perhaps, in one who lived by his labours, but it is not the less a fact. Wherever money becomes the stimulant to exertion in pursuits above those which are mercantile, such pursuits lose their true spirit, from marks of failure in the motive.
I do not deny that a slight anxiety did sometimes arise about the future, in case of a protracted existence, with physical or mental disability to labour. But it passed like a cloud across hope’s deceptive vision. Others pressed the consideration upon me much oftener than I myself recurred to it.
A publication was
started of a cheap character, and I undertook the editorship. Horace Smith, Miss Mitford,
Mrs. Watts, Douglas
Jerrold, Mr. St. John,
196 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
A biographical dictionary was proposed to me just then, to be of an extensive character. Murray, the publisher, was one of the prime movers of the project, and was to hold a large share, but he got into a dispute with some of the other parties concerned, and the affair fell to the ground.
I then went into the West of England to collect materials for a
descriptive account of our more picturesque counties. My design was to confine the
descriptions to the peculiar scenery of each district, and to keep to the statistics in
those things which were of general interest, and matters of reference only. I was limited
in regard to space. I completed my task, and returned to town, when I had the mortification
of finding, during my absence, that an individual of
whom I knew but little, and esteemed less, had gone in my absence, and persuaded the
publishers that they should proceed faster, and that the county of Lancaster would be more
certain to answer. Setting off with an account of the manufactories which he could write,
it would, he hinted to the proprietors, make a sensation, the reverse was likely and proved
to be the fact. The people of Lancashire did not want to be told how to make cotton. I had
neglected to bind the bookseller, by agreement, before I set out. I edited the volume, and gave the description of
Furness. Dr. Beard, of Manchester, wrote
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 197 |
The visit I had paid to a district so long afterwards, in which the early part of existence had been passed, naturally produced many melancholy associations. Nature was the same; man only had changed; the friends of early life were no more to be seen—they had passed away. The tavern signs no longer bore the names of yore; and the retail shops had strange ones affixed to them. New streets had sprung up, and cast the older ones into the shade as to extent, neatness, and even elegance of construction.
I everywhere saw improvement in unorganized things. I had left youth
and beauty, too, behind me, when I quitted, and now I found among the few whom the King of
Terrors had spared, spectacle-seeing women no longer captivating, but ordinary of person.
The charms that had answered the end of attracting to perpetuate the race, that end being
met, a purposeless age had removed. Where were now the fresh and glowing pictures of
youth—those anticipations of gaudy hope and the early incredulity that—well for
themselves—saw in the truths of more advanced years only sour saws and officious
crabbedness? In vain I went from one well-remembered
198 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 199 |
200 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
Nearly forty years had elapsed since I left in the bloom of youthful
attraction a young lady, whose image I carried afar, pictured inerasably in my mind. Of a
figure rather under the middle size of her sex in general, not foremost in beauty, but
well-looking, and with that witchery of expression which speaks so eloquently, and so
irresistibly, to the heart of the other sex. We had parted to meet no more. She died in the
springtide of life, not many months after I had taken leave of her. I felt an irresistible
desire to visit her tomb. I had never been in the church-yard where she lay; but I saw the
spire about six miles distant. I rose in the sunlight of a lovely day; the waves of the
restless ocean broke gently on the sandy shore of one of the most beautiful bays in the
island. I met no one, for it was the morning hour of five. Numberless recollections of the
past came uppermost in my mind. Perhaps the years that had perished since I met her whose
dust now mingled with its parent earth, did in some degree deepen the hues imagination
presented of departed things, in place of rendering them, as in general, more faint. Vivid
were those glimpses, touched with melancholy, it is true, but priceless in estimation. The
murmuring surf seemed to speak mysteriously of the inexorable character of time, and of
destiny. The blue heaven reflected in that calm sea, looked not smoother than I had dreamed
my future path would be through life,
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 201 |
“She lies there, Sir, but has no stone; that tomb is to the memory of a sister’s daughter, not born at the period to which you allude. She, too, died quite young; a sweet girl she was.”
I thanked my informant, and lingered away an hour on the spot. The
revival of a hundred things, insignificant enough in themselves, followed, that no act of
volition could have recalled, proving that there is a storehouse, where, though not
obedient to our call, the precious things of memory are retained to turn the past to pain.
My feeling I cannot describe; I tardily turned my back on a spot with so many melancholy
associations; and, after a walk of a couple of miles to the breaking waves, I sat down on a
rock, the surf nearly bathing my feet, and again recalling the pleasure that I had received
from the society of the dead, I felt a kind of indignation that her grave should be
nameless.
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LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 203 |
I proceeded as far as the Land’s End, intending to embark for Scilly, but a stubborn west wind blew home.
* Mount St. Michael’s; Milton’s “Guarded Mount.” |
204 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
|
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 205 |
I returned to town to complete my task, when I found it necessary to repair to Lancaster, and crossed the sands, into the romantic district of Furness. I visited the Abbey, then one of the most remarkable of our monastic ruins, since desecrated by a railway, which destroys the solitary character of one of the most interesting places in the kingdom. It was then well worth a journey from London to see, not being a show place like Fountains Abbey. In the church-yard of Dalton, I found the tomb of Romney, the painter, a native of that place, an early patron of Lady Hamilton.
About this time, died Lady Cork. I
had met her at dinner a few days before her decease, nearly a century old. She appeared in
perfect health, and her usual spirits, well able to ascend the drawing-room stairs, leaning
on the arm of another of her sex. She was of the lesser stature of women, and in Johnson’s day, as Miss Monson,
might have been handsome and vivacious; at such an advanced age, little judgment can be
formed of the bearing or disposition of an individual in early life. Lady
Cork had acquired a certain celebrity, from meeting literary men in her
youth, who complimented
206 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
She invited to her house men of all creeds and parties, because their
opinions had nothing to do in sharing her hospitalities. The peculiar circumstances
attending her marriage were well known, at least, in cotemporary life. It would be unfair
to judge her by the last score or two of years that she lived. My impression is that she
had at no time superior mental attainments to other ladies in the circles of fashion, when
youth and vivacity never fail to be attractive. She had some eccentricities, and I am
inclined to think she was not of an amiable disposition, because she did not disguise her
distaste of children, and this is a good criterion for judging of female character. To more
advanced youth she was a torment in employing it for her various purposes. There were two
sweet girls in their “teens,” whose visits to town were few and far between,
and had, therefore, little time for sight-seeing. She would drive to them in their lodgings
of a forenoon, with a list of names, and occupy them with writing her notes of invitation
until dinner time, knowing perfectly well how they were situated. I advised that they
should not be “at home,” for the exaction was unjustifiable. Sidney Smith admirably developed her character under
another head, when he
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 207 |
There is always something touching in the presence of a person who has survived several perished generations, a feeling of melancholy, perhaps the unconscious acknowledgment of a common destiny. I once felt it very strongly, on being alone with a centenarian.
When Earl Grey died, one of those
names familiar to Englishmen for more than forty years, it seemed to be a relic gone of my
earliest remembrances. His lordship had a property in the domain of mind which some, who
came later on the stage, destitute of his experience, may not choose to acknowledge, but
who will not soon be forgotten by the survivors of a departed generation.
208 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 209 |
A short and unexpected correspondence once took place between Lord Althorp and myself, upon the application of tests of the value of the soil through chemical experiments. This correspondence originated in something his lordship said about agriculture, which induced me to think he was fully open to the fact which, since the corn law repeal, has been proved, that high cultivation must be attended with results greatly remunerative. His lordship said this would hold good to a certain extent, but that the farmers had not capital. I replied, “then let them lessen their holdings,” their profits would be the same, and as the manufacturer was constantly improving his machinery, every seven or ten years witnessing something new and more economical, so it would be with the land. That there was, no doubt, a termination to the extent to which cultivation might be carried, but I did not think the land gave half the produce it might be made to do.
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“You would carry it up to the perfection of a garden—that would never do.”
“Why not, my lord?”
“Because neither materials for manuring nor other requisites can be obtained for the whole superfices.”
“High cultivation and feed will make manure. I am persuaded half the land now in cultivation might be made to return the same quantity of produce.”
“That is all theoretical.”
“Theory before practice is the natural order of things. There may be impracticable theories but they must be proved so: doubt is the father of truth. I am certain that fifty thousand acres might soon be made to return more than seventy-five thousand do now.”
“That may be true to a certain extent.”
“It requires a larger capital, and the removal of the prejudices so inherent in the mind of the farmer.”
“The farmers know what they are about—they are a shrewd race.”
“And a prejudiced one, Lord Althorp. I have known two estates, the same in the quality of the land, in everything, and both let on lease. One tenant, on the expiration of his lease, wanted it renewed, with ten per cent taken off. The other only wanted a fourteen in place of a seven years’ lease. The latter on being told that his neighbour could scarcely make both ends meet, and wanted ten per cent taken off the rent, replied, ‘He does not know how to manage his land, he does what his father did before him, and won’t admit any new fangle practices, as he calls them. I am content to pay the same rent, only I should like a fourteen years’ lease.’ He got it.”
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 211 |
“That is true, I dare say, but how are landlords to convert their tenants to the right way of thinking?”
“By shewing them their interest.”
“I believe some landlords require to be sent to school as well as the farmers.”
“I do not say the farmers are all similarly impracticable, but a large majority.”
His lordship, on my speaking of making experiments in order to prove some points I had advanced, and stating that what little I had observed of the farmers was in Wilts, while in the counties under his lordship’s eyes they were a more improved race. I bore rather hard on some particular farmers whom I had met in Wiltshire, for their obstinate refusal to admit improvements, and thought that in such cases the landlord’s should see to it. His lordship’s last letter was dated from Hagley, April 1843, it wound up as follows:
“I think much good may be done by chemical experiments in farming, but in order that the results so procured may be properly tested, it is quite essential that they should be tried as farming, and not as gardening experiments. I believe that experiments on a small scale are the first steps to a more satisfactory trial.
“You very much underrate the intelligence and abilities of the practical farmers. They are much more likely to teach the landowners, than the landowners to teach them.”
His lordship did not convince me. No doubt there are many farmers well
able to instruct landowners, but farmers in general were not then able to do so from their
heavy prejudices. I have narrowly observed the farmer in several counties, and found him in
one county
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Standing on the verge of the last rocks looking at the Long Ship’s light-house, and the vast expanse of ocean, a man in a sailor’s jacket addressed me. He offered to take me to the Scilly isles in an open boat for a couple of guineas, but he could not answer how long we might be beating up with such a wind as I have before stated. I found my companion was a smuggler, and as I had not forgot the days of boyhood, when I knew many of those daring characters, before coast-guards were known, I put some leading questions to him, and won his confidence.
“Been at work lately, ‘squag’d’ away anything—how goes running now?”
“I haven’t been tother side for a good while—I got six months a little while ago.”
“How was that?”
“It was not my fault—a cargo was cleared, and the ship
hauled off, but the skipper in place of washing out the hold got drunk. A revenue
cutter boarded him—found nothing to seize, but smelled the liquor, and knew that
a cargo was run. The cutter’s boat landed, for they could not touch the ship.
They searched the
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 213 |
Such a place as “the cliff,” where they got up the cargo was fearful. The slightest false step would have been inevitable death, and yet they brought up all but six ankers where it would be thought impossible the foot could rest. Once up, the ankers were borne off by the miners, and soon placed in security beyond the reach of a coast guard or the smugglers themselves, in the intricate ramifications of the mines, from whence none but miners could dislodge them. These ramifications extend for miles under ground. Some of those in the consolidated mines in Gwennap, are said to extend fifty-five miles, from two hundred to a thousand feet from the surface or “grass” as the miners call it.
This smuggler told me he had not tasted bread for six months. He, as well as his neighbours, had a little land around their cottage where they planted potatoes and a few vegetables. They had a small boat, their joint property, in which they went out fishing by turns, for most of the people there understand gardening and fishing as well as mining. They divided the fish taken, salting some and drying others. In the mines they worked only eight hours in the twenty-four. Full time enough to pass in the close atmosphere below.
I deeply regretted to find that tithes, in some parishes, were exacted
from these poor people’s labour in fishing. They were generally levied in the shape
of a sum on the boat, to be paid annually, in lieu of
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In the parish of St. Buryan was a rectory, carrying with it the livings of St. Levan and of Sennen. The three contained three thousand souls, of which it may be presumed nearly one-half were Wesleyan Methodists. Since 1819, the three livings had been under the incumbency of one individual, who resided in London.
Of the two or three persons who remembered me, I inquired after
particular individuals, some were known to them, and some death had taken. One in years had
died a long time ago, tranquilly, with these remarkable words: “I shall soon be at
home—I feel like a youth going from school for the holidays to his father’s
house.” Some of my old companions had been victims in war, others had
perished in burning climes. One sweet girl had died in misery in a London attic, abandoned
by her husband to the want she was too proud to proclaim. The fate of some in hope and
fortune very flattering, had been
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 215 |
Sir Charles Morgan died soon after my return to
town. Until he came to London to reside, we had corresponded for several years. In allusion
to one of the most truthful men I ever knew, I cannot avoid mentioning also Lady Morgan, although I do not profess to make mention of
living cotemporaries. I do Lady Morgan feeble justice in recording her
warmheartedness, her eminent talents, her love of country, and sense of independence. I
have nothing to retract, after thirty-four years’ acquaintance, except my own
apparent neglect in her regard, justified by absence and causes which I need not state. The
fidelity of Lady Morgan to nature’s truth, in her pictures of
existing life, the advocacy she has ever displayed for what is just and generous, and the
sympathy every honourable mind must feel in respect to the splenetic attacks made upon her
by unmanly writers, are obvious things. Lady Morgan could well afford
to pay the usual penalty of talent. She drew with a correct pencil the wrongs of her
country, and laboured to inculcate on its enemies correct principles for its government.
The attacks upon her in the “Quarterly Review,” were generally
attributed to Croker. This was a mistake.
Croker,
216 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
How swift the shuttle flies that weaves the shroud! |
Having read some of the verses of Clare with great delight, I visited him at Dr.
Allen’s asylum for the insane in Epping Forest. The patients there
were not confined, but were allowed to ramble about the grounds, and amuse themselves as
they felt agreeable. I found Clare in a field cutting up thistles, a
little, mild man of insignificant person, who, on my approach, stood still, leaning upon
the instrument with which he had been working. His manner was perfectly unembarrassed, his
language correct and fluent. He appeared to possess great candour and openness of mind, and
much of the temperament of genius. There was about his manner no tincture of
rusticity—what a mystery is genius! that it should thus change and humanise natural
character. He conversed on various topics, and never
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 217 |
I published a pamphlet, entitled “Plain sense Reasons for the Treaty of July, 1840, for Maintaining the Integrity of Turkey,” supporting Lord Palmerston’s policy. On glancing at this pamphlet, which appeared without the writer’s name, nearly seventeen years ago, at the time the Treaty of Hunkiar Skellesi was nullified, there appeared something like the spirit of divination when the late war with Russia is taken into account.
218 | FIFTY YEARS’ RECOLLECTIONS, |
“It must be remembered that the treaty of Adrianople, which concluded a war of Russian aggression, gained her another important step in her favourite object. She adroitly made herself the protector of the Porte as the wolf might make himself the protector of the lamb. The safe mode of judging the true object of Russia’s policy, is to take the opposite of her avowals as the course which she is following. Let her statements be compared on past occasions, from the time when aggressions were falsely charged upon Turkey, and tens of thousands cruelly butchered for no other reason than that Potemkin might get the order of St. George, down to this hour. Every negotiation between Turkey and Russia has been a most impudent piece of double dealing on the Russian side; Russia was always the aggressor, charging the Turks with what was false as an excuse for plundering them of their territory. At one time Russian commerce in the Black Sea was said to be endangered by the Dardanelles being in Turkish power—Russian commerce by the Dardanelles!”
Again:—
“Even as it is, Russia will not remain long idle under the treaty. She takes credit for her signature to it, but she will intrigue to sow dissension between the other European powers, or make dupes of them for her own interest. She will omit no opportunity of recovering her lost ground by perseverance unflagging and unrevealed, except by its effects. She will trust to time for success, nor dream of resigning her project. Her junction with the other powers can only be regarded as a result of that policy which knows how to conceal disappointed hope under a graceful address.”
Again:
“When secretly chagrined, no false pride
governs Russia; she will never run her head against a wall, as parties in other
countries do without looking to consequences. The other great powers of Europe, bound
to resist any attack upon Turkey, she felt that on the ground so far gained towards the
fulfilment of her darling object she must be content to encamp—the “pear
was not yet ripe,” she must “bide her time”—dissimulation, not
aggression, must be the order of the day. Russia knew that half-a-dozen British line of
battle ships, and double that number of steamers and frigates in the Black Sea, and
40,000 Austrians sent down the Danube to Rutchuk or Silistria in aid of the Turks, and
either the Danube frontier of Bulgaria must be maintained, or the Balkan line from
Varna to the Turnova road, and that route itself be rendered impregnable. Russia knew
that her hopes upon the Caucasians must be defeated, her disinterested subjects round
the Black Sea stimulated to rebellion, and her establishments destroyed. She considered
that her Baltic ports blockaded and her vast territories subjected to alarm from the
arming of the other powers against her, the thing was not to be prudently dared; to
which must be added the consideration, that the first step to ensure success upon
Turkey must always be the exclusion of a foreign power from the Dardanelles. If England
has an interest in the integrity of Turkey, Austria has a greater. Her enormous
frontier from the north-eastern Carpathian mountains to the Danube, and from the Danube
to the Save at Semlin, and from Semlin to the Unna, and from the Unna to Badna, close
on the southern Adriatic, would become exposed to a very different enemy from the Turk.
Even the delay of such an occupation for a few years
LITERARY AND PERSONAL. | 219 |
That Russia should have miscalculated a little in regard to the cordial co-operation of France with England was not matter of wonder. She judged from past experience. The firm rule of the Emperor Napoleon was not foreseen by Russia. She thought of M. Thiers, and based her calculations upon the Jesuitism of the old diplomacy.
I could not avoid this episode, which may be set down to the satisfaction or vanity everybody feels at the development of their own peculiar views after the lapse of years, if it be at all a sort of self-compliment.
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