Chapter IX (4)

It was his design to proceed to the south of Italy. He stops at Turin. He is dissatisfied with himself. This life of sight-seeing, this vagrancy of the tourist, does not content him. He will go no further. But we must give the extract itself from his journal. We quote from the more faithful text of Mr Brown--Mr Dixon having the habit of omitting, here and there, a sentence if it does not please his taste, and tricking the whole out with dashes and a novel punctuation.

"_Turin, 1769, Nov. 30._--My return without seeing the
southern part of Italy was on much deliberation, as I feared
a misimprovement of a Talent spent for mere curiosity, at the
loss of many Sabbaths, and as many donations must be suspended
for my pleasure, which would have been as I hope contrary to
the general conduct of my Life, and which on a retrospective
view on a death Bed would cause Pain as unbecoming a Disciple
of Christ--whose mind should be formed in my soul.--These
thoughts, with distance from my dear boy, determine me to check
my curiosity and be on the return.--Oh, why should Vanity and
Folly, Pictures and Baubles, or even the stupendious (_sic_)
mountains, beautiful hills, or rich valleys, which ere long
will all be consumed, engross the thoughts of a candidate for
an eternal everlasting kingdom--a worm ever to crawl on Earth
whom God has raised to the hope of Glory which ere long will be
revealed to them which are washed and sanctified by Faith in the
blood of the Divine Redeemer! Look forward, oh! my Soul! how
low, how mean, how little is everything but what has a view to
that glorious World of Light, Life, and Love--the Preparation of
the Heart is of God--Prepare the Heart, Oh! God! of thy unworthy
Creature, and unto Thee be all the glory through the boundless
ages of Eternity.

Sign'd J. H.

"This night my trembling soul almost longs to take its flight to
see and know the wonders of redeeming Love--join the triumphant
Choir--Sin and Sorrow fled away--God my Redeemer all in all--Oh!
happy Spirits that are safe in those mansions."

Accordingly he retraces his steps. He flies back to Holland. He is now at the Hague. It is Sunday evening, 11th February 1770. Here is a portion of his self-communing. Many of these quotations we will not give; we know they look out of place, and produce a strange, and not an agreeable impression, when met with in the walks of polite literature. But, without some extracts, it is impossible to form a correct idea of the character of Howard.

"Oh! the wonders of redeeming love! Some faint hope, even I!
through redeeming mercy in the perfect righteousness--the full
atoning sacrifice shall, ere long, be made the instrument
of the rich free grace and mercy of God through the divine
Redeemer. Oh, shout my soul grace, grace--free, sovereign,
rich, unbounded grace! Not I, not I, an ill deserving, hell
deserving creature!--but where sin has abounded, I trust grace
superabounds. * * * *

"Let not, my soul, the interests of a moment engross thy
thoughts, or be preferred to my eternal interests. Look forward
to that glory which will be revealed to those who are faithful
to death. My soul, walk thou with God; be faithful, hold on,
hold out, and then--what words can utter!--J. H."

But he could not rest in Holland. "Continuing in Holland," he writes, "or any place, lowers my spirits." He returns to Italy. He visits Genoa, Pisa, Florence, Rome, and extends his tour to Naples.

It was, and may still be, a custom with a certain class of religious people, to make, in writing, a solemn covenant with God, and sign it with their own hand. It is at Naples that Howard retires into his chamber, indites and signs such a covenant. He appears, afterwards, to have carried it with him. With the same sort of formality with which a person republishes a will, he "renews the covenant, Moscow, September 27, 1789."

Through the remainder of this journey we need not follow him. He returns to England, and we see what sort of man has landed on its shores.

Those who are acquainted with the religious world and religious biographies, will bear us out when we say, that the language we have quoted from this journal, and the other extracts which may be read in Brown, would not, _of themselves_, manifest any extraordinary degree of piety or self-devotion. With a certain class of persons, such language has become _habitual_; with others, it really expresses nothing but a very transitory state of excitement. Solemn self-denunciations--enthusiastic raptures--we have heard them both, from the lips of the most worldly, selfish, money-loving men we have ever known. It is the after life of Howard which proves that in him such language had its first, genuine, full meaning. These passages from his diary explain his life, and his life no less explains them.

On his return to Cardington, he occupied himself, as before, with plans to improve the condition of his tenantry; building for them better houses, and erecting a school. But at length an event occurred which supplied his self-consuming energy with the noble task it craved. Elected High Sheriff for the county of Bedford, the duties of his office led him to the interior of the prison. He witnessed the sufferings, the extortion, the injustice, the manifold cruelty, which the supineness of the legislature allowed to reign and riot there.

"The distress of prisoners," he tells us, in the preface to his
first report, "came more immediately under my notice, when I was
sheriff of the county of Bedford; and the circumstance which
excited me to activity in their behalf was the seeing some, who,
by the verdict of juries, were declared _not guilty_; some, on
whom the grand jury did not find such an appearance of guilt as
subjected them to trial; and some, whose prosecutors did not
appear against them; after having been confined for months,
dragged back to jail, and locked up again, till they should
pay _sundry fees_ to the jailor, the clerk of assize, &c. In
order to redress this hardship, I applied to the justices of
the county for a salary to the jailor in lieu of his fees. The
bench were properly affected with the grievance, and willing
to grant the relief desired; but they wanted a precedent for
charging the county with the expense. I, therefore, rode into
several neighbouring counties in search of a precedent; but I
soon learned that the same injustice was practised in them; and,
looking into the prisons, I beheld scenes of calamity, which I
grew daily more and more anxious to alleviate."

These oppressions, these calamities he dragged to light. He may be said to have _discovered_ them--so indifferent, at this time, was one class of the community to the misery of another. His official position gave him just that elevation requisite to make his voice heard. The attention of parliament was roused. He was examined before a committee of the whole House; he received the thanks of parliament; and a bill was passed to remunerate the jailor by a salary, instead of by fees--thus remedying one of the most extraordinary mal-practices that was surely ever endured in a civilised society.

Here, then, was a task to strain all his powers, and absorb all his benevolence. Here was misery to be alleviated, and injustice to be redressed, and a nation to be aroused from its culpable negligence. Benevolent, liberal, systematically and perseveringly charitable, not averse to the exercise of authority and censorship, of restless and untameable energy, and of a singular constancy and firmness of purpose, the task employed all his virtues, and what in some positions of life would have proved to be his failings. Even to his love of travel, his new occupation suited him. What wonder that, with all these aptitudes, the _religious man_, devoured by his desire to do some good and great work, should have devoted to it his life and his fortune, his days and his nights, and every faculty of his soul. He had now found his path. His foot was on it; and he trod it to his dying hour.

After inspecting the jails of England, Scotland, and Ireland, he, in 1775, took the first of those journeys on the Continent, which had, for their sole object, the inspection of prisons. And henceforward, in all his travels, he is so absorbed in this one object, that he pays attention to nothing else. Not the palace, rich with painting and sculpture; not the beautiful hills and valleys--only the prison and the lazaretto can retain him for a moment. Once he is tempted to hear some fine music--it distracts his attention--he foregoes the music. The language of Burke, in his well-known panegyric, is true as it is eloquent.

"He has visited all Europe--not to survey the sumptuousness of
palaces or the stateliness of temples--not to make accurate
measurements of the remains of ancient grandeur, nor to form a
scale of the curiosity of modern art--not to collect medals or
collate manuscripts--but to dive into the depths of dungeons,
to plunge into the infection of hospitals, to survey the
mansions of sorrow and pain, to take the gauge and dimensions
of misery, depression, and contempt, to remember the forgotten,
to attend to the neglected, to visit the forsaken, and compare
and collate the distresses of all men, in all countries. His
plan is original, and it is full of genius as it is of humanity.
It was a voyage of discovery, a circumnavigation of charity.
Already the benefit of his labour is felt more or less in every
country. I hope he will anticipate his final reward, by seeing
all its effects fully realised in his own."

But the boon--for a great task of this kind was a veritable boon to such a spirit as Howard's--was nearly missed. Before he went abroad on his first journey of philanthropy, he ran the risk of being imprisoned himself, within the walls of the House of Commons, as member for the town of Bedford. The borough had formerly been under the control of the house of Russell. Responding to the cry of "Wilkes and Liberty!" the corporation had risen against their lord. To free themselves from his control, they had boldly created five hundred honorary freemen, coined, in short, five hundred votes, which were to be at their own disposal. The measure seems to have passed undisputed. They were, of course, victorious. Whom they elected, in the first glow of patriotism, we do not know; but, after a few years, the corporation rewarded their own patriotic efforts by selling the borough to the highest bidder. Such, at least, was the accusation brought against them in the town of Bedford itself, where a strong party rose which made strenuous efforts to wrest the election out of their hands. By this party, Whitbread and Howard were put in nomination. The candidates of the corporation were Sir W. Wake and Mr Sparrow. After a severe struggle on the hustings, and in the committee of the House of Commons, the election was decided in favour of Whitbread and Wake. Howard lost his election--happily, we think--by a majority only of four votes.

On his return from the Continent, he published his first report on the state of prisons. We had designed to give some account of this, and the subsequent publications of Howard, but our space absolutely forbids. Perhaps some other opportunity will occur, when we can review the history of our prisons, to which the volumes of Howard form the most valuable contribution. We must content ourselves with a few general remarks on his labours, and with the briefest possible account of this the great and eventful period of his life.

To lead our readers over the numerous, toilsome, and often perilous journeys which Howard now undertook, for this national and philanthropic object of improving our prisons and houses of correction, would be utterly impracticable. But, to give them at once some adequate idea of his incessant activity, we have thrown into a note a summary, taken from Dr Aikin, of what may be considered as his public labours.[10]

[10] 1773. High Sheriff of Bedfordshire--visited many county and
town jails.

1774. Completed his survey of English jails. Stood candidate to
represent the town of Bedford.

1775. Travelled to Scotland, Ireland, France, Holland, Flanders, and
Germany.

1776. Repeated his visit to the above countries, and to Switzerland.
During these two years revisited all the English jails.

1777. Printed his State of prisons.

1778. Travelled through Holland, Flanders, Germany, Italy,
Switzerland, and part of France.

1779. Revisited all the counties of England and Wales, and travelled
into Scotland and Ireland. Acted as supervisor of the
Penitentiary Houses.

1780. Printed his first Appendix.

1781. Travelled into Denmark, Sweden, Russia, Poland, Germany, and
Holland.

1782. Again surveyed all the English prisons, and went into Scotland
and Ireland.

1783. Visited Portugal, Spain, France, Flanders, and Holland; also
Scotland and Ireland, and viewed several English prisons.

1784. Printed the second Appendix, and a new edition of the whole
works.

1785.{ From the close of the first of these years to the beginning
of the last, on
1786.{ his tour through Holland, France, Italy, Malta, Turkey, and
Germany.
1787.{ Afterwards went to Scotland and Ireland.

1788. Revisited Ireland; and, during this and the former year,
travelled over all England.

1789. Printed his work on Lazarettos, &c. Travelled through Holland,
Germany, Prussia, and Livonia, to Russia, and Lesser Tartary.

1790. January 20. Died at Cherson.

These long, incessant, and often repeated journeys--were they necessary, some will be tempted to ask, for the object he had in view? Surely a few instances, well reasoned on, would have been sufficient to put us on the right track for the reformation of our prisons. But it should be considered, in the first place, that Howard was teaching a people pre-eminently practical in their intellectual character, a people who require to be taught by example and precedent. The most philosophical reasoning, the most eloquent diatribe, would not have availed half so much to stir the public mind, as, on the one hand, these details which Howard threw before it, fact upon fact, unsparingly, repeatedly--details of cruelty and injustice perpetrated or permitted by our own laws; and, on the other hand, this plain statement, brought from abroad, that in Ghent, that in Amsterdam, that even in Paris, many of the evils which we suffered to remain as incurable, _were_ cured, or had never been allowed to exist. It was much to tell the citizen of London that in Flanders, and in Holland, there were prisons and bridewells that ought to put him to the blush.

And, in the second place, let it be considered, that Howard himself was pre-eminently a practical man. He neither wrote books of speculation, nor thought in a speculative manner. It was from detail to detail that his mind slowly advanced to principles and generalisations. These prisons, they were his books; these repeated circuits he made through the jails of Europe, they were his course of reading. He reperused each blotted page of human misery till he was satisfied that he had comprehended all it could teach. He was no Beccaria to enunciate a principle from the recesses of his library, (though it should be mentioned, in passing, that he had read Beccaria--that the man of speculative talent had stimulated the man of administrative talent, and the two were co-operating, all over Europe, on the same great subject of penal legislation;) his eye was ever upon practices, he got wisdom in the concrete, principle and instance indissolubly combined: he so learnt, and he so taught.

Again, in England itself, there was no system that equally regulated all the jails of the country; or, to speak more correctly, there was no uniformity in the abuses which existed amongst them. Arrangements were found in one, no trace of which might be discovered in another. All were bad, but the evils in each were different, or assumed different proportions. In some, there was no separation between the debtor and the criminal; in others, these were properly classified, but the criminal side might be more shamefully mismanaged than usual. In some, there was no attention paid to the sick; in others, the infirmary might be the only part of the jail that was not utterly neglected. There might be a good supply of medicine, and no food. In some, the separation of the two sexes was decently maintained; in others not. It was impossible to make any general statement that would not have called forth numerous contradictions. An accusation strictly just with regard to York, might be repelled with indignation by Bristol; whilst, on some other charge, Bristol might be the culprit, and York put on the show of injured innocence.

Some prisons were private property; they were rented to the jailor, and he was to extract the rent and his profit, by what extortion he could practise on his miserable captives. These were prisons belonging to liberties, manors, and petty courts, of the existence of which few people were aware. In some of these the prisoner lay forgotten by his creditor--lay there to starve, or live on the scanty and precarious charity of those who gave a few pence to "the starving debtor." In many cases the jailor--for all remuneration and perquisite--was allowed _to keep a tap_. Of course, whatever was doled out to the prisoner by charity, was spent in drunkenness. The abuses were of all kinds, strange, and numberless. Howard tracked them out, one by one--recorded them--put them in his book--published them to the world.

Add to all this, that, after some time, he became invested with the character of _censor_ of the prisons. He looked through them to see that, when a good law _had_ been made, it was obeyed. There was never a commissioner so universally respected. Men are not so bad but they all admired his great benevolence, and his justice equally great. No bribery, no compliments, and no threats, could avail anything. In vain the turnkey suggested to _him_, that the jail-fever was raging in the lower wards: the crafty official had so deterred many a visiting magistrate, who had thanked him politely for his warning, and retired. Howard entered, and found _no_ jail-fever; but he found filth and famine, that had been shut up there for years from the eyes of all men. No danger deterred him. The infected cell, where the surgeon himself would not enter--from which he called out the sick man to examine him--was the very last he would have omitted to visit. This character of public censor he carried with him abroad, as well as at home. Foreign potentates courted his good opinion of their institutions--consulted him--shrank from his reproof--a reproof all Europe might hear. The Grand-duke of Tuscany, the Emperor of Germany, the Empress of Russia, were all anxious to see and hear him. He had no flattery for them; the report he gave was as faithful as a page out of his note-book.

As a popular misconception has prevailed upon the character of Howard, attributing benevolence to him as almost a sole motive, so a like popular misconception has prevailed, as to the nature and objects of that benevolence. He is sometimes spoken of as if to visit the sick and the captive, and relieve _them_ individually, was the main object of his charitable journeys, and his unremitting inquisitions. If, indeed, he had done nothing more than seek out those unhappy men, who, at the bottom of their infected dens, lay abandoned by all the world, he would have been entitled to our admiration, and to all the merits of a heroic charity. But he did more than this. He aimed at a permanent improvement of the condition of the prisoner. He aimed farther still. His object was the same which excites so much attention at the present moment: by a good system of imprisonment, both to punish and reform the criminal. "To make them better men," is a phrase often in his mouth, when speaking of prisoners; and he thought this might be effected by combining imprisonment with labour, with perfect abstinence from intoxicating drinks, and other good regulations. Those who will read his reports with attention, will be surprised to find how often he has anticipated the conclusions to which a wider experience has led the reflective men of our own age. There is a note of his upon Solitary Confinement which might be adopted as a summary of those views which enlightened men, after many trials of various systems, have rested in. No false sensibility accompanied the benevolence of Howard. In some respects he was a sterner disciplinarian than would be generally approved of.

Upon this aspect of his character there remains only one remark to add: his mind was never absorbed in the great objects of a public philanthropy to an oblivion of his _near duties_ and his private charities: he was to the last the just, considerate, benevolent landlord, quite as much as he was Howard the philanthropist.

"During his absence in one of his tours," says Dr Aikin, "a
very respectable-looking elderly gentleman on horseback, with
a servant, stopt at the inn nearest Mr Howard's house at
Cardington, and entered into conversation with the landlord
concerning him. He observed that characters often appeared very
well at a distance, which could not bear close inspection; he
had therefore come to Mr Howard's residence in order to satisfy
himself concerning him. The gentleman then, accompanied by the
innkeeper, went to the house, and looked through it, with the
offices and gardens, which he found in perfect order. He next
inquired into Mr Howard's character as a landlord, which was
justly represented; and several neat houses which he had built
for his tenants were shown him. The gentleman returned to his
inn, declaring himself now satisfied with the truth of all he
had heard about Howard. This respectable stranger was no other
than Lord Monboddo; and Mr Howard was much flattered with the
visit, and praised his lordship's good sense in taking such a
method of coming at the truth, since he thought it worth his
trouble."

The traveller who undertook all these philanthropic journeys was a man of slight form, thin, and rather beneath the average height. Every feature, and every movement, proclaimed energy and determination. "An eye," says Dr Aikin, "lively and penetrating, strong and prominent features, quick gait and animated gestures, gave promise of ardour in forming, and vivacity in executing his designs." "Withal there was a bland smile," says another of his biographers, "always ready to play upon his lips." "I have," continues Aikin, "equally seen the tear of sensibility start into his eyes, on recalling some of the distressful scenes to which he had been witness; and the spirit of indignation flash from them, on relating instances of harshness and oppression." In his dress and person he was remarkably neat, and in his ablutions, we are told, punctilious as a Mussulman;--far more so, we suspect. For the rest, he had reduced his wants to the lowest possible scale. Water and the simplest vegetables sufficed. Animal food, and all vinous and spirituous liquors, he had utterly discarded. Milk, tea, butter, and fruit were his luxuries; and he was equally sparing in the quantity of food, and indifferent as to the stated times of taking it.

From the prisoner, and the subject of prison-discipline, it is well known that the attention of Howard was directed to measures for arresting the plague. It was a grand idea this--that he would lead the way to some general scheme to be adopted throughout Europe, and the contiguous parts of Asia, for checking the incursions of, and perhaps finally exterminating, the plague. For no object did he suffer so much, or expose himself to so great dangers; embarking purposely in a vessel with a foul bill of health, and undergoing the perilous confinement of the lazaretto, that every practice of the quarantine might be thoroughly known to him. Nowhere was his conduct more heroic. It cannot be said here, however, that his object was equally well chosen, or that his labours were attended with any good result. Whilst it would be difficult to over-estimate the value of his service as inspector-general of the prisons of Europe, we can detect nothing in this latter scheme but an unfortunate waste of heroic benevolence. In dealing with jails and houses of correction, he was dealing with evils, the nature of which he, and all men, could well understand; but, in dealing with the pestilence, he was utterly in the dark as to the very nature of the calamity he was encountering. It is very probable that, had he realised his utmost wishes, and built a lazaretto on the most improved plan, combining every valuable regulation he had observed in every lazaretto of Europe, it would only have proved an additional nuisance.

This period of his life is more full of striking incidents than any other, but we must hurry rapidly over it.

"The point," says Mr Brown, "at which he wished to commence his
new investigations was Marseilles; but the extreme jealousy of
the French government respecting their Levant trade, had long
kept the lazaretto of that port carefully concealed from the
eye of every foreigner; but, as Mr Howard's object was such
as ought to have awakened neither political nor commercial
jealousy in any one, Lord Caermarthen, then secretary of state
for foreign affairs, made an application to the French minister
for permission for him to view this celebrated building. After
waiting some time at the Hague, in expectation of its arrival,
he went to Utrecht to visit his friend Dr Brown, at whose house
he received a letter from his lordship, informing him, not only
that the request he preferred had been peremptorily refused,
but that he must not think of entering France at all, as, if he
did, he would run a risk of being committed to the Bastille.
Howard, however, was not to be deterred. He started immediately
for Paris. At Paris, "having gone to bed, according to his
usual custom, about ten o'clock, he was awaked between twelve
and one, by a tremendous knocking at his room door, which,
starting up, in somewhat of an alarm, he immediately opened;
and, having returned to bed, he saw the chambermaid enter with a
candle in each hand, followed by a man in a black coat, with a
sword by his side, and his hands enveloped in an enormous muff.
This singular personage immediately asked him if his name was
not Howard. Vexed at this interruption, he hastily answered,
'Yes--and what of that?' He was again asked if he had not come
to Paris in the Brussels diligence, in company with a man in
a black wig? To this question he returned some such peevish
answer, as that he paid no attention to such trifles; and his
visitor immediately withdrew in silence. Not a little alarmed
at this adventure, though losing none of his self-possession,
and being unable to compose himself to sleep, Mr Howard got up;
and, having discharged his bill the night before, took his small
trunk, and, removing from this house, at the regular hour of
starting took his seat in the diligence, and set off for Lyons."

Such is the narrative of Mr Brown. It has been supposed that this midnight visitor was an officer of the police, and that, had Howard remained a few hours longer at his hotel, he would have been arrested. But some mystery still hangs over this adventure. Howard, in one of his letters, alluding to it, says that he had since learnt who his strange visitor was, and adds that "he had had a narrow escape;" and his biographer Mr Brown tells us that--

"He learned that the man in a black wig was a spy, sent with
him to Paris, _by the French Ambassador at the Hague_, and that
he himself would have been arrested then, (at Paris,) if Mr Le
Noir had not been at Versailles on the day of his arrival; and,
several persons having recently been arrested on very false or
frivolous grounds, he had left orders for no arrests being made
before his return, which was not until late in the evening of
the next day, when he was pursued, but not overtaken."

If it was this that Howard learnt, we think his informant must have deceived him. An air of great improbability hangs over this story. The French government is represented as being so anxious to arrest Howard, if he should enter France, that it sends a spy to travel with him from the Hague; if so, the identity of Howard was sufficiently known to the police on his arrival at Paris. Yet we are next told that an officer visits Howard at midnight, only to assure himself that it _is_ Howard;--pays a visit, in short, that can have no other effect than to give the alarm to his intended captive. In addition to this, we are to suppose that this person, whom the French government is so anxious to arrest, pursues his journey unmolested, and spends five days at Marseilles, visiting the very lazaretto to which it was known he was bound, and the inspection of which that government was so solicitous to prevent.

As to the other motives by which Mr Brown accounts for these hostile proceedings of the French government, we can attach no weight to them whatever. On a previous visit to Paris, Howard had been extremely desirous to survey the interior of the Bastille. Not being able to obtain permission, he had boldly knocked at the outer door, and, assuming an air of official authority, walked in. He had penetrated to some of the inner courts before this little _ruse_ was detected. He was then, of course, conducted out. He was obliged to content himself with an account of the Bastille written in French, and the publication of which had been forbidden by the government. He obtained a copy, and translated it into English. For this, and for another cause of offence of a far slighter character, it is difficult to suppose that Howard had excited the peculiar animosity of the French government.

Howard visited the lazaretto of Marseilles, however, under the full impression that the police were on the search for him. From Marseilles he went to Toulon, and inspected the arsenal and the condition of the galley-slaves. To obtain admission into the arsenal, he dressed himself, says Mr Brown, "in the height of the French fashion," Englishmen being strictly prohibited from viewing it at all. We are told that this disguise was easy to him, "as he always had much the air and appearance of a foreigner, and spoke the French language with fluency and correctness." Mr Dixon, faithful to his system of caricaturing all things, describes him as "dressed as an exquisite of the Faubourg St Honoré!" We presume that it was the French gentleman of the period, and not the French dandy, that Howard imitated.

He next visited the several lazarettos of Italy--went to Malta--to Smyrna--to Constantinople, everywhere making perilous inquisitions into the plague. At Smyrna he is "fortunate enough" to meet with a vessel bound to Venice with a foul bill of health, and he embarks in it. On its way, the vessel is attacked by pirates. "The men," says Mr Brown, "defended themselves for a considerable time with much bravery, but were at length reduced to the alternative of striking, or being butchered by the Moors, when, having one very large cannon on board, they loaded it with whatever missiles they could lay their hands upon, _and, pointed by Mr Howard himself_, it was discharged amongst the corsair crew with such effect that a great number of them were killed, and the others thought it prudent to sheer off." Pointed by Mr Howard himself! We can well understand it. The intrepid, energetic man, Fellow too of the Royal Society, would look at the elevation of the gun, and lend a helping hand to adjust it.

We throw into a note a parting specimen of the manner of Mr Dixon. Not satisfied with the simple and probable picture which Mr Brown presents to us, he makes Howard load the gun as well as point it--makes him sole gunner on board; and in order to improve his _tableau_, after having fought half the battle through, recommences it, that he may discharge his gun with the more effect.[11] Mr Dixon advertises, as his next forthcoming work, a history of our prisons. We are sorry that so good a subject has fallen into such bad hands. Unless he should greatly improve, we shall have a book necessarily replete with much popular and interesting matter, in not one page of which will the narrative be strictly trustworthy.

[11] "For a while the Venetian sailors defended themselves with
desperate courage, for it was a question of victory or perpetual
slavery with them; but their numbers were limited, their arms
indifferent, and altogether the contest seemed too unequal to
last long. It was the first actual fighting in which Howard had
been present; but the imminency of the danger and the sight of
conflict appealing to the strong combative instincts of his race,
he fought on deck with the coolness of a Saxon and the courage of
a knight-templar. Indeed, it was his self-possession which proved
the salvation of the crew. There was only one gun of large calibre
on board, and of this he assumed the direction, though he had
probably never fired even a rifle in his life; but, in the hour of
peril, fighting seemed to come to him, as to most of his countrymen,
by inspiration. _This gun he rammed almost to the muzzle with
nails, spikes, and similar charge, and then, steadily waiting his
opportunity, as the privateer bore down upon them with all her crew
on deck, apparently expecting to see the Venetians strike their
flag, he sent the contents in amongst them with such murderous
effect_, that, after a moment or two of consternation, the corsairs
hoisted sail, and made off at their best speed."--(P. 356.)

At Venice he is conducted to the lazaretto, to undergo the quarantine. He is shut up in a close loathsome room, the very walls of which are reeking with foul and pestilential odours. Surely never was a valuable life so heroically ventured, for so futile a purpose. Whilst lying here, smitten with a low fever, he received--we quote from Mr Brown--"intelligence from England of two circumstances which had transpired there, each of them an occasion of the deepest affliction to his mind. The first was the formation of a fund for the erection of a statue to his honour; the second the misconduct of his only son."

We can well believe they were _both_ afflictions. Those who have entered into the character of Howard, will feel at once that the project of doing him any public honour would be, in his own language, "a punishment, and not a reward." It was mingling with his conduct and motives that very alloy of vanity, and consideration for men's opinion, which he was so anxious to keep them clear from. If a generous man has done a kind action for kindness' sake, how it spoils all if you _pay_ him for it! You lower him at once. He refuses your payment; he would deny, if he could, his previous action; he begs, at all events, it may be utterly forgotten. To pay Howard in praise was, to his mind, as great an incongruity. He shrank from the debasing coin. He would have denied his philanthropy: "Say it is my hobby, if you will," he is heard at one time to mutter. Dying, he says to his friend--"Lay me quietly in the earth, place a sun-dial over my grave, and let me be forgotten." Child of Time--was it not enough?

When he had escaped the lazaretto and returned to England, he wrote a letter to the gentlemen who had undertaken to collect subscriptions, requesting them to lay aside their project. The money collected was in part returned, a part was spent in liberating a certain number of poor debtors, and the residue was applied towards erecting, at his death, the statue of him in St Paul's Cathedral.

His son he was compelled to consign to the care of a lunatic asylum. He now published the information he had obtained, at so much risk, upon lazarettos, and the mode of performing quarantine, together with additional observations upon prisons and hospitals at home and abroad. Connected with this publication, an incident is related, which shows the extraordinary value Howard had put on the materials he had collected, and also the singular perseverance and determination of the man. We give it in the words of Mr Brown:--

"On his return from his Turkish tour, one of his boxes was
stolen as he was getting into a hackney-coach in Bishopsgate
Street, from the stage in which he had travelled from Dover. It
contained a duplicate of his travels, twenty-five guineas, and
a gold watch. The plan of the lazaretto of Marseilles, of which
he possessed no duplicate, was, happily, _in the other box_.
Had it not been so, he declared to his friend Dr Lettsom, that,
notwithstanding the risks he had run in procuring that document,
so important did he consider it, that he would a second time
have exposed himself to the danger of a visit to France to
supply its place."

We believe he would.

This publication completed, and his son so unhappily disposed of, the veteran philanthropist quitted his country again, and for the last time. It was still against the plague that his enterprise was directed. He seems to have thought that successful barricades, by quarantine and other measures, might be erected against it. With the plague, as with the cholera, it is generally admitted there is some occult cause which science has not yet penetrated; but the predisposing, or rather the co-operating causes, are, in both cases, dirt and bad diet; and the quarantine which would attack _these_ is the only measure which, in our present state of knowledge, is worthy of serious consideration. It was his purpose, this time, to travel through Russia into Turkey, and thence, perhaps, to extend his journey far into the East, to whatever city this grim enemy of mankind might have taken possession of.

He had reached as far as Cherson, on the eastern borders of Russia, visiting, according to his wont, prisons and hospitals on his way. Here he was seized by a fever which proved mortal, and which he is supposed to have caught in visiting, with his usual benevolence, a young lady, to whom also it proved fatal. He was buried in the grounds belonging to the villa of a French gentleman who had shown him much attention. A small brick pyramid, instead of the sun-dial he had suggested, was placed over his grave. The little pyramid or obelisk still stands, we are told--stands alone, "on a bleak desolate plain." But Protestant England has a monument in that little pyramid, which will do her as much honour as any colony or empire she has planted or subdued.

THE DARK WAGGON.

BY DELTA.

I.

The Water-Wraith shrieked over Clyde,
The winds through high Dunbarton sighed,
When to the trumpet's call replied
The deep drum from the square;
And, in the midnight's misty shade,
With helm, and cloak, and glancing blade,
Two hundred horsemen stood arrayed
Beneath the torches' glare.

II.

Around a huge sepulchral van
They took their stations, horse and man--
The outer gateway's bolts withdrawn,
In haste the drawbridge fell;
And out, with iron clatter, went
That sullen midnight armament,
Alone the leader knew where bent,
With what--he might not tell.

III.

Into the darkness they are gone:--
The blinded waggon thundered on,
And, save of hoof-tramp, sound was none:--
Hurriedly on they scour
The eastward track--away--away--
To none they speak, brook no delay,
Till farm-cocks heralded the day,
And hour had followed hour.

IV.

Behind them, mingling with the skies,
Westward the smoke of Glasgow dies--
The pastoral hills of Campsie rise
Northward in morning's air--
By Kirkintilloc, Cumbernold,
And Castlecary, on they hold,
Till Lythgo shows, in mirrored gold,
Its palaced loch so fair.[12]

[12] It is mentioned by both the chroniclers, Hemingford, (i. 196)
and Trivet, (332,) that Edward the First built "a strength" or
fort "at Linlitcu" in 1301, and there enjoyed the festivities of
Christmas. Lord Hailes inaccurately states that he wintered there;
for, by dates since collected from writs, Chalmers has proved that,
although Edward was still at Linlithgow on the 12th January, he
was, on his way home, at Roxburgh on 12th February, and had reached
Morpeth by the 24th.

This fort, or castle, was probably the same that was, a few years
afterwards, taken by the stratagem of the patriotic yeoman, Binnock,
in concealing some of his followers in a waggon of hay; and who was
rewarded by King Robert with an estate, which his posterity long
afterwards enjoyed.

V.

Brief baiting-time:--the bugle sounds,
Onwards the ponderous van rebounds
Mid the grim squadron, which surrounds
Its path with spur and spear.
Thy shrine, Dumanie, fades on sight,[13]
And, seen from Niddreff's hazelly height,
The Forth, amid its islands bright,
Shimmers with lustre clear.[14]

[13] Dalmeny Church is unquestionably of very great antiquity. From
the style of its architecture, which a most competent authority, Mr
Billings, ("Baronial and Ecclesiastical Antiquities," vol. i.) has
pronounced to be of the purest Norman, it is referred, at least,
to the tenth or eleventh centuries. There is extant a charter of
Waldeve, Earl of Dunbar, from 1166 to 1182, witnessed by the parson
of Dumanie.

[14] On these banks a castle was afterwards erected by the Earls of
Wintoun, the picturesque ruins of which are yet a prominent object,
by the edge of the Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway, to the west of
Kirkliston. Queen Mary is said to have slept there, on her flight
from Lochleven to Hamilton, 2d May 1568.

VI.

The Maiden Castle next surveyed,
Across the furzy hills of Braid,
By Craig-Milor,[15] through Wymet's glade
To Inneresc they wound;[16]
Then o'er the Garlton crags afar,
Where, oft a check to England's war,
Cospatrick's stronghold of Dunbar[17]
In proud defiance frowned.

[15] The name has for centuries been vulgarised into Craigmillar.
Adam de Cardonnel, in his "Picturesque Antiquities," adheres to
the spelling in the text; although it is generally now admitted
that the appellation is Gaelic--_Craig-moil-ard_, or the high bare
rock running out into a plain. The original structure is of unknown
antiquity.

[16] Woolmet, or Wymet, and Inneresc, were granted by charter
of David the First to the Abbey of Dunfermline; the latter in
confirmation of a previous grant by Malcolm Canmore and Queen
Margaret, ("Registrum de Dunfermlyn," Imp. Edin. 1842, p. 5, 6.) A
small mausoleum of the Wauchope family now occupies the site of the
chapel of Wymet; and the venerable pile of St Michael the Archangel,
at Inneresc, was ruthlessly demolished in 1804. The house in which
the great Randolph died, which was about half a mile distant, was
also hewn down, about ten years afterwards, to make way for a shabby
masonic lodge.

[17] The family of Cospatrick, a powerful Northumbrian nobleman,
took refuge in Scotland after the death of Harold at Hastings, and
in 1072 had extensive lands in the Merse and Lothian gifted them by
Malcolm Canmore. They continued to be one of the most opulent and
powerful houses in the east of Scotland for a considerable period,
as evidenced by their donations, noted in the chartularies of
Coldingham, Newbottle, Dryburgh, Kelso, Melrose, and Soltra. Founded
on a steep rugged rock, within sea-mark, and communicating with the
land through a covered passage, the castle of Dunbar might well,
before the invention of gunpowder, have been deemed impregnable. It
was often the theatre of warlike contention, and two great battles
were fought in its immediate neighbourhood,--the first in 1296, when
Earl Warenne defeated the army of Scotland sent for its relief; and
the second in 1650, when Leslie was overthrown by Cromwell. It was
often besieged, and as often bravely defended; but perhaps never so
brilliantly as by Black Agnes against the Earl of Salisbury in 1337.

VII.

Weep through each grove, ye tearful rills!
Ye ivied caves, which Echo fills
With voice, lament! Ye proud, free hills,
Where eagles wheel and soar,
Bid noontide o'er your summits throw
Storm's murkiest cloud! Ye vales below,
Let all your wild-flowers cease to blow,
And with bent heads deplore!

VIII.

Ye passions, that, with holy fire,
Illume man's bosom--that inspire
To daring deed, or proud desire,
With indignation burn!
Ye household charities, that keep
Watch over childhood's rosy sleep,
Ashes bestrew the hearthstone,--weep
As o'er a funeral urn!

IX.

On--on they speed. Oh dreary day,
That, like a vampire, drained away
The blood from Scotland's heart--delay,
Thou lingering sun to set!
Rain, twilight! rain down bloody dews
O'er all the eye far northward views;
Nor do thou, night of nights! refuse
A darkness black as jet.

X.

Heroic spirits of the dead!
That in the body nobly bled,
By whom the battle-field for bed
Was chosen, look ye down,--
And see if hearts are all grown cold,--
If for their just rights none are bold,--
If servile earth one bosom hold,
Worthy of old renown?

XI.

The pass-word given, o'er bridge of Tweed
The cavalcade, with slackened speed,
Rolled on, like one from night-mare freed,
That draws an easier breath;
But o'er and round it hung the gloom
As of some dark, mysterious doom,
Shadows cast forward from the tomb,
And auguries of death.

XII.

Scotland receded from the view,
And, on the far horizon blue,
Faded her last, dear hills--the mew
Screamed to its sea-isle near.
As day-beams ceased the west to flout,
Each after each the stars came out,
Like camp-fires heaven's high hosts about,
With lustre calm and clear.

XIII.

And on, through many a Saxon town
Northumbrian, and of quaint renown,
Before the morning star went down,
With thunderous reel they hied;
While from the lattices aloof,
Of many an angled, gray-stone roof.
Rose sudden heads, as sound of hoof
And wheel to southward died.

XIV.

Like Hope's voice preaching to Despair,
Sweetly the chimes for matin prayer
Melted upon the dewy air
From Hexham's holy pile;
But, like the adder deaf, no sound,
Or stern or sweet, an echo found
'Mid that dark squadron, as it wound
Still onwards, mile on mile.

XV.

Streamers, and booths, and country games,
And brawny churls, with rustic names,
And blooming maids, and buxom dames,--
A boisterous village fair!
On stage his sleights the jongleur shows,
Like strutting cock the jester crows,
And high the morrice-dancer throws
His antic heels in air.

XVI.

Why pause at reel each lad and lass?
A solemn awe pervades the mass;
Wondering they see the travellers pass,
The horsemen journey-worn,
And, in the midst, that blinded van
So hearse-like; while, from man to man,
"Is it of Death"--in whispers ran--
"This spectacle forlorn?"

XVII.

Bright are thy shadowy forest-bowers,
Fair Ashby-de-la-Zouche! with flowers;
The wild-deer in its covert cowers,
And, from its pine-tree old,
The startled cushat, in unrest,
Circles around its airy nest,
As forward, on its route unblest,
Aye on that waggon rolled.

XVIII.

And many a grove-encircled town,
And many a keep of old renown,
That grimly watched o'er dale and down,
They passed unheeding by;
Prone from the rocks the waters streamed,
And, 'mid the yellow harvests, gleamed
The reapers' sickles, but all seemed,
Mere pictures to the eye.

XIX.

Behold a tournay on the green!
The tents are pitched--the tilters keen
Gambol the listed lines between--
The motley crowds around
For jibe, and jest, and wanton play
Are met--a merry holiday;
And glide the lightsome hours away
In mirth, to music's sound.

XX.

And hark! the exulting shouts that rise,
As, cynosure of circling eyes,
Beauty's fair queen awards the prize
To knight that lowly kneels.
"Make way--make way!" is heard aloud--
Like Red Sea waters part the crowd,
And, scornful of that pageant proud,
On grinding rush the wheels!

XXI.

Hundreds and hamlets far from sight,
By lonely granges through the night
They camped; and, ere the morning light
Crimsoned the orient, they
By royal road, or baron's park,
Waking the watchful ban-dog's bark,
Before the first song of the lark,
Were on their southward way.

XXII.

By Althorpe, and by Oxendon,
Without a halt they hurried on,
Nor paused by that fair cross of stone,
Now for the first time seen,
(For death's dark billows overwhelm
Both jewelled braid, and knightly helm!)
Raised, by the monarch of the realm,
To Eleanor his queen.[18]

[18] This venerable memorial, which gives the name of "Queen's
Cross" to the neighbouring locality in Northamptonshire, is a
beautiful specimen of architecture, although much defaced by time,
and the efforts of renovators.

The "trellised" vest, mentioned in stanza XXIV., was a species of
armour, so called by contemporary Norman writers; and consisted of
a cloth coat, reaching only to the haunches. This was intersected
by broad straps of leather, so laid on as to cross each other, and
leave small intervening squares of cloth, in the middle of which was
a knob of steel. (_Vide_ MEYRICK'S _Ancient Armour_, vol. i. p. 11.)

XXIII.

Five times through darkness and through day,
Since crossing Tweed, with fresh relay
Ever in wait, their forward way
That cavalcade had held;
Now joy!!! for, on the weary wights,
Loomed London from the Hampstead heights,
As, by the opal morning, Night's
Thin vapours were dispell'd.

XXIV.

With spur on heel, and spear in rest,
And buckler'd arm, and trellised breast,
Closer around their charge they press'd--
On whirled, with livelier roll,
The wheels begirt with prancing feet,
And arms,--a serried mass complete,
Until, by many a stately street,
They reached their destined goal.

XXV.

Grim Westminster! thy pile severe
Struck to the heart like sudden fear;--
"Hope flies from all that enter here!"
Seemed graven on its crest.
The moat o'erpassed, at warn of bell,
Down thundering the portcullis fell,
And clang'd the studded gates,--a knell
Despairing and unblest.

XXVI.

Ye guardian angels! that fulfil
Heaven's high decrees, and work its will--
Ye thunderbolts! launched forth to kill,--
Where was it then ye slept--
When, foe-bemocked, in prison square,
To death fore-doomed, with dauntless air,
From out that van,
A shackled man--
Sir William Wallace stept!

THE GREEN HAND.

A "SHORT" YARN.