My Friends and Acquaintance
R. Plumer Ward VI
VI.
PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF THE AUTHOR OF “TREMAINE.”
As the following personal sketch of Mr. Plumer Ward belongs to about the period more immediately referred to in
the preceding sections, I will insert it here. It was written as part of a series of Pen
and Ink Portraits supposed to be taken at a West End Club House:—
Observe (as he stands with his back to the fire, at the upper extremity of
the room) that tall and somewhat stately, but slim figure, perfectly upright, and with the
head thrown slightly back, giving to the air and bearing an aristocratic cast, without
interfering with that bland amenity which keeps possession of all the features of a face
wherein years and the spirit of youth blend together in friendly contention, and put to
shame the
unwise and futile axiom of the old song, which declares
that— “Crabbed age and youth Cannot live together.” |
It is true that “crabbed” age and youth are at variance: as what is not at
variance with “crabbed age?” But the couplet would apply the epithet as one
proper to age, and necessarily belonging to it; which is not more just than it would be to
apply it to youth itself. That this is so, witness the very remarkable countenance before
us—in respect of which, whether the thoughts, feelings, and associations that give light
and life to it emanate from a mind that has counted sixteen winters or sixty, would puzzle
the most penetrating glance to tell, from the expression alone. Or rather it demonstrates
that the mind and heart which speak there are instruments upon which the hand of Time has
no power—that, “Age cannot dim, Nor custom stale, the infinite variety” |
of the intellectual music resulting from the harmonious conformity of all the parts
and particulars of which they are made up.
Perhaps there is nothing in connexion with our intellectual nature more
immediately gratifying in itself, and more directly and surely leading to after
gratification, than the contemplation of a character in which the qualities and attributes
we have referred to are so happily allied as they are in that of the author of “Tremaine,” and the happy results of
which are so legibly written on their visible exponents. If there is a fear more pervading
than all others that oppress the human mind after a certain age, it is that of growing old.
But that it is to all intents and purposes “a lost fear,” the example before us
may demonstrate. If you are to believe Mr. Plumer
Ward himself, he is considerably more than sixty years of age. If you are to
trust to the indications set forth by nature in his face, his person, his voice, his air,
his carriage, and the ever-springing green that overspreads the pleasant pastures of his
mind and heart, you must conclude that the world and its ways are as new to him as to a boy
of sixteen bred up on a mountain side. Where, then, shall we strike the happy mean? He cannot be so old as he says. And yet
he is
among the last men to make himself out older than his certificate of birth. The secret is,
not that— “Years have brought the philosophic mind,”
|
but that they have brought something infinitely better—the mind where philosophy,
humanity, and the refined and epicurean spirit of enjoyment, are so beautifully and
inextricably blended, that they form a perpetual spring of new and happy thoughts, which— “Put a spirit of youth in everything,” |
and which spirit ever reflects itself back in corresponding exponents, upon all who
look with a wise and instructed eye in that mirror of the heart, the “human face
divine.”
Wordsworth, in his beautiful stanzas, entitled
“A Poet’s Epitaph,”
says, addressing the supposed passer-by—
“Art thou a statesman, in the van Of public business train’d and bred? First learn to love one living man; Then mayst thou think upon the dead.” |
How generally true is the inference here implied, witness the iron or oaken faces of
the lines of “statesmen” who nightly occupy the Treasury
and Opposition Benches of our national assemblies! And to prove the rule by the exception,
witness the face of the remarkable person whose portrait we are now painting. He has been
not only “In the van Of public business train’d and bred,” |
but has passed twenty consecutive years of a laborious life there; and yet, behold him
as we have pictured him above; in freshness of feeling and simplicity of thought, he is a
child; in tenderness of heart and gentleness of sympathy with the pleasures and the pains
of his fellow-beings, his nature retains the almost feminine softness and impressibility of
early youth; in vigour of thought and ardour of spirit, he is like one just entering on his
career of ambitious manhood; in deep and quick sagacity and matured knowledge he would seem
to have touched the goal itself; and, finally, in his deep conviction of the incapacity of
all temporary and sublunary things to satisfy the cravings of the human heart and mind, or
prevent them from at last returning to prey or to banquet (as the case may be) upon their
own self-engendered feelings and imaginations, and in his firm
determination to act upon that conviction, and retire from the world to the “populous
solitude” of his own thoughts and affections, he reaches and illustrates that last
stage of intellectual advancement which teaches us that “’Tis in ourselves that we are thus and thus,” |
and that when the world and its works have ceased to be sufficient to us, we then, and
not till then, may, if we please, become sufficient to ourselves.
Such is R. Plumer Ward; the favourite
protegé of Pitt; the friend and companion of
Canning and Peel; the right hand of every department of the public service to which he
has belonged in connexion with the Government of his country; the pet of the female world
of high society, from the most antiquated of its dowagers to the most blooming of its
newly-budding beauties; and (best of all in our estimation) the
writer of “Tremaine” and
“De Vere”—the two most
delightful, and at the same time the most instructive works of our day, in that most
delightful and in-
structive of all classes of works, those illustrating
manners and society as these affect and are affected by the human mind and heart.
Should the more sedate of our female friends desire to be made acquainted
with more particulars respecting the person of their favourite
writer (for such we must believe him to be, the Bulwers, Trollopes, Gores, &c., of the circulating library
notwithstanding), we may inform them that his head and features are small as compared with
the commanding height and carriage of his figure; that his eyes have the piercing
expression of some of the gentler species of the hawk, and are overshadowed by brows that
bear a remarkable likeness to the very remarkable ones of Walter
Scott; that his nose is slightly retroussé, which, in
connexion with an expression of sly humour about the mouth, gives a slightly sarcastic
character to the general expression of the countenance; that the forehead and upper part of
the head are wholly bald, the hair which remains being of light brown tinged with grey; and
that the whole
face is overspread with a bloom like that of youth, and
a shining smoothness, that correspond, to a degree almost of strangeness, with the
intellectual youth which is the most striking characteristic of this accomplished person.
George Canning (1770-1827)
Tory statesman; he was foreign minister (1807-1809) and prime minister (1827); a
supporter of Greek independence and Catholic emancipation.
Catherine Grace Frances Gore [née Moody] (1799-1861)
English novelist, the daughter of Charles Moody; she married Charles Arthur Gore in 1823
and wrote a series of best-selling ‘silver-fork’ fictions.
William Pitt the younger (1759-1806)
The second son of William Pitt, earl of Chatham (1708-1778); he was Tory prime minister
1783-1801.
Frances Trollope [née Milton] (1779-1863)
Novelist, travel-writer and mother of Anthony Trollope; she married Thomas Anthony
Trollope in 1809. She published
Domestic Manners of the Americans, 2
vols (1832).
Robert Plumer Ward (1765-1846)
Educated at Christ Church, Oxford, and the Inner Temple; he was Tory MP for Cockermouth
(1802-06) and Haslemere (1807-23) and the author of three novels.
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
With Coleridge, author of
Lyrical Ballads (1798), Wordsworth
survived his early unpopularity to succeed Robert Southey as poet laureate in 1843.
Robert Plumer Ward (1765-1846)
Tremaine: or, the Man of Refinement. 3 vols (London: H. Colburn, 1825). The first “silver fork” novel.