Chapter IV: Part 4

The circumstances which have led to our great naval heroes first going to sea are sometimes peculiarly interesting, and even romantic. Take, for instance, the case of the Hoods――sons of a vicar in Somersetshire. A gallant captain was spending his time ashore in traveling about the country, and in passing through the quiet village of Butleigh, his carriage happened to break down. He looked around for an inn in which to stay while it underwent the necessary repairs, but there was no public place of accommodation to be had. The stranger, with some reason, seemed a little disconcerted; but matters were presently cleared up by the appearance of the worthy parson, who invited him to his house with hearty good will, and entertained him hospitably. Next morning the guest, before leaving, said, “Sir, you have two sons, would either of them like to go with me to sea?” They availed themselves of the frank offer,――both entered the service, and one became Lord Hood, the other Viscount Bridport. Jervis, the son of a barrister, was intended to follow his father’s steps; but the groom persuaded him that all lawyers were rogues, and the little fellow, running away from school, insisted on being a sailor. After entering the navy he experienced hardship and poverty, but he struggled upward, with manly spirit, to wealth, fame, distinctions, and an earldom. Nelson’s father was a clergyman in Norfolk, but his maternal uncle, a captain in the navy, promised to provide for one of the boys. Horatio was so slender in frame, that he was thought incapable of roughing it out at sea; yet he earnestly requested to be sent. Accordingly he was packed off alone in the coach to join the ship, but had the mortification of pacing the deck in wretchedness for a whole day before being taken notice of, while swelled in his young breast all the germs of the genius that recognized no fear, and the eccentricity――more valuable than the wisdom of others――which ultimately rendered him the dread of foes and the admiration of friends.

A relationship, similar to that which influenced the fortunes of his mighty compeer, seems to have guided Collingwood in his selection of a career. Captain Braithwaite, who afterward rose to the rank of admiral, had married the boy’s aunt. That officer then commanded the “Shannon,” and it was resolved to place the young aspirant under his care and protection. A touching and interesting glimpse of his earliest experience on board is afforded as he sat on the deck, sad at heart, and with tears in his eyes, which flowed more rapidly as he gazed through them at the shore. The first lieutenant observing the comely little sailor in so downcast a mood, and perhaps remembering his own feelings on a like occasion, was touched with compassion, and addressed him in language of sympathy and encouragement. Whereupon Collingwood felt so grateful that he led the kind-hearted officer to his box, and offered him a large piece of plum-cake, which his anxious and affectionate mother had given him at parting.

Collingwood experienced much kind treatment from the kinsman under whose protection he embarked on his career of duty and renown. He afterward confessed the obligations he owed to Admiral Braithwaite in the acquirement of professional knowledge. But the sage, meditative, and energetic seaman, was far from trusting to the aid or inspiration of others in his triumphant struggle. He thought earnestly, and labored diligently, for himself. He steadily practiced that self-culture which he ever strongly and perseveringly recommended to others. Besides perusing treatises on naval affairs, he read extensively, and with no small profit, in historical works; he obtained books relating to the places to which he happened to sail, and exercised his intellectual faculties by comparing these descriptions with his own impressions of the localities and scenery. Moreover, he embraced and acted on the opinion that a man should, before arriving at his twenty-fifth year, establish for himself a character and reputation of such a kind as he would have no cause to be ashamed of throughout life.

In the ordinary course of events Collingwood parted from his gallant relative, and sailed for some time with another officer. Between these two services thirteen years were consumed, and during that period he made the acquaintance of Nelson. At its termination he went to Boston with Admiral Graves, and was thus present at the battle of Bunker’s Hill, in command of a party of seamen to assist and supply the troops, who, under General Gage, encountered the insurgent colonists. After that event he was advanced to the rank of lieutenant; and in 1775 joining the “Hornet” sloop, in that capacity he sailed to the West Indies. The ship in which Nelson was lieutenant came to the same station; and with the immortal hero Collingwood renewed the feelings of friendship, which, cemented in the interval by many high aspirations and bright dreams, were strikingly and glowingly displayed on another and more glorious day.

Meantime Collingwood had the good fortune to succeed his friend as commander of the “Badger,” and, subsequently, as a post-captain in the “Hinchenbroke” frigate, with which he was ordered to proceed to the Spanish Main, and employed on the expedition sent up the river San Juan. The climate to which he was now exposed was in the highest degree pestilential; the majority of his crew fell victims to its excessive insalubrity; and in this perilous situation he was sustained and saved from sharing their fate by a remarkably strong constitution. Right glad, however, with all his powers of endurance, must he have been when relieved in the autumn from this scene of woe and suffering. He was then appointed to the command of the “Pelican.” With that frigate, of twenty-four guns, he captured a French vessel, recovered from the enemy a richly-laden Glasgow merchantman, and was soon after wrecked among the rocks of the Morant Keys. He next obtained the command of the “Sampson,” a ship of sixty-four guns, which was paid off at the peace of 1783. Then he was dispatched, in the “Mediator,” to the West Indies, where he and his younger brother, a naval officer of great promise, who filled an untimely grave, actively aided Nelson in enforcing the provisions of the Navigation Act against the encroachments of the Americans.

In 1786 this brave and manly sailor arrived in England, and joyfully turned his face homeward. He spent the next four years among his Northumbrian relatives, of whom he had hitherto seen much less than he could have wished. At the termination of that period an armament was preparing against Spain, and he was immediately nominated to a command; but the differences which had led to this step being speedily accommodated without going to war, and there appearing no prospect of active service, he again repaired to the frontier county; all the more readily, perhaps, that he had already surrendered to a lady in that northern province the exquisitely tender heart, which no prolonged service nor scenes of bloodshed could ever harden, or render indifferent to the welfare or sufferings of others. He was forthwith married, and there appearing no probability of his professional abilities being in requisition, he looked forward to a long season of that domestic peace and happiness which he was eminently fitted by nature to create and enjoy. However, his expectations in this respect proved vain; the French war broke out, he was under the necessity of sacrificing his cherished wishes to his country’s good, and he returned, with characteristic courage and resolution, to arduous and indefatigable exertion on that element which, almost without interruption, was his sphere for the remainder of his earthly existence.

“Calm thoughts that dwelt like hermits in his soul,
Fair shapes that slept in fascinating bowers,
Hopes and delights――he parted with them all.”

Collingwood was, without delay, appointed to the “Prince,” Admiral Bowyer’s flag-ship, and served with that officer in the action of the 1st of June, 1794, in which Lord Howe accomplished a signal victory. He displayed his wonted vigilance and energy, in watching for the enemy and preparing for strife and wounds. But even then his thoughts strayed often to a gentler scene――to the home of his family, to green woodlands, and “mountains blue.” Even on the eve of battle his fancy heard the ringing of the village bells, and his imagination conjured up the form of his fair spouse as she walked to church, not unmindful of her absent hero. The conflict was sharp, and soon over; and in it Collingwood behaved with much gallantry. Nevertheless, his services were unacknowledged by Lord Howe; and in the distribution of medals he was passed over, much to the surprise of the fleet, and of some officers with whom he had fought side by side, and by whom his bravery had been duly appreciated. “If Collingwood has not deserved a medal,” remarked Captain Packenham, of the “Invincible,” “neither have I; for we were together the whole day.”

Collingwood was a man of too much pride and propriety to waste words on such a subject; but he was, at the same time, actuated by that sentiment of self-respect which forbade him to overlook such an injustice. Ere long an occasion of vindicating his independence and reputation was presented: this happened when the great victory off St. Vincent was happily achieved in 1797. The hero of that day, Sir John Jervis, when writing to the Admiralty, expressed the highest praise and admiration of Collingwood’s conduct, which, in the “Excellent,” had been conspicuously meritorious; and he announced that the Northumbrian captain was to be rewarded with one of the medals distributed in commemoration of the glorious event. Collingwood could now speak out without loss of dignity; and he stated, with feeling and firmness, that he must decline receiving this mark of distinction while the former one was withheld.

“I feel,” he said, as his slender, well-formed person, seemed to swell with emotion, and as his full dark eye flashed with chivalrous pride, and the consciousness of a heart that feared no foe: “I _feel_ that I was then improperly passed over; and to receive such a distinction in this case would be to acknowledge the propriety of that injustice.”

“That,” replied Lord St. Vincent, with evident admiration, “is precisely the answer I expected from you, Captain Collingwood.”

Shortly after this conversation took place, Collingwood experienced the gratification of having the two medals transmitted to him from the Admiralty, with a civil apology for the earlier one having been so long kept back. He was now instructed to assist in what he considered as the humiliating office of blockading the enemy’s ports; and, after a brief interval of repose in the society of his friends and relatives, he was promoted to the rank of Rear-admiral of the White; when, hoisting his flag in the “Triumph,” he proceeded to the Channel fleet, which was under the command of Lord Bridport. He was soon after detached with a reinforcement of twelve sail of the line, and sent to join Lord Keith in the Mediterranean, where the Brest fleet, with the principal naval force of France and Spain, then lay. He subsequently shifted his flag to the “Barfleur;” and in the beginning of 1801 became Rear-admiral of the Red.

The events of 1802 afforded Collingwood the satisfaction of returning for a while to his home at Morpeth, in the north of England. He arrived in the merry month of May, and greatly relished his quiet and repose. He was fond of company, and among his friends showed much lively humor and no inconsiderable knowledge of books. His tastes were plain and simple, and his inclination averse to display. He gratified his paternal feelings by superintending the education of his daughters. He pursued his own studies with more than youthful enthusiasm, improved his style of composition by making extracts from the various works he perused, and indulged his natural fondness for drawing. His garden was situated on the banks of the beautiful Wansback――a river alluded to in “Marmion”――which flows through a succession of fertile valleys; and there he passed many agreeable hours. Indeed he seems, like Lord Bacon, to have looked upon gardening as “the purest of all pleasures, and the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man.” One day, a naval officer coming to visit Collingwood in his happy and tranquil retirement, sought him in vain about the grounds, and was inclined to give up the search, when he suddenly discovered the admiral, along with his old and trusty gardener, busily occupied in digging with vigor at the bottom of a deep trench. The affairs of his domain ever formed an interesting subject of inquiry; nor did distance diminish the respect which he entertained for his faithful horticultural henchman.

In the beginning of 1803, when a renewal of hostilities between England and France occurred, Collingwood was summoned from weeding the oaks in his cheerful northern retreat, which he was never blessed with an opportunity of revisiting; though he often sadly and fondly luxuriated in the anticipation of resuming a place by his own fireside, never more to leave it.

Meantime he was sent, in the “Venerable,” to the squadron off Brest, Admiral Cornwallis joyfully exclaiming on his arrival, “Here comes Collingwood――the last to leave and the first to rejoin me!” In the April of 1803 he was advanced to the rank of Vice-admiral of the Blue, and next year engaged in the blockade of Cadiz, until compelled to retire by the appearance of the combined fleets of France and Spain. He soon resumed his station, where he remained till the following autumn; when thither came that terrible English sea-captain who had already driven the French fleet before him, “from hemisphere to hemisphere,” and performed the vow, long before made, that he would teach Bonaparte to respect the British navy. On the 21st of October, 1805, Trafalgar was fought and won; though the brilliancy was at first, in some degree, clouded and overcast by the fall of the conquering hero, in whose breast patriotism had so long glowed with fierce ardor. On that glorious and ever-memorable day, Collingwood nobly did his duty. In the morning, he arrayed himself for the coming strife with extraordinary care and precision. Meeting with Lieutenant Clavell, whom he had long regarded as “his right hand,” the brave admiral, with his accustomed mental equanimity, said, “You had better put off your boots, and put on silk stockings; as, if one should get a shot in the leg, they would be so much more manageable for the surgeon.” Then, going on deck, he encouraged the men in performing their duty, and asked the officers to do something which the world might talk of in time to come. Nor, when the hour of encounter arrived――when the successes of his great comrade-in-arms were to be crowned with an imperishable triumph――did he fail to sustain his old reputation for prowess and courage. He led the British squadrons into action, and with his single ship, the “Royal Sovereign,” advanced gallantly into the midst of the enemy’s forces. It was then, as he was keenly pressing onward, that Nelson, standing on board the “Victory,” decorated with all his stars and honors, and prepared for death and glory, exclaimed, as the remnant of his right arm moved with excitement, “See how that noble fellow, Collingwood, takes his ship into action!” At the same time Collingwood, knowing what thoughts would be passing through his heroic friend’s mind, remarked to Clavell, with a smile, “What would Nelson give to be here!” It is singular that his spirit of economy should have manifested itself under such circumstances; as when he saw the gallant-studding-sail hanging over the gangway, he requested his lieutenant to assist him in taking it in, and observed that they should live to want it again some other day. Having poured a broadside and a half into the stern of the “Santa Anna,” the two vessels were soon so close that their lower yards were locked together. Another was placed on the lee-quarter of Collingwood’s ship, while three bore on her bow; but England expected every man to do his duty that day, and it was nobly done. As for the “Santa Anna,” she was soon compelled to strike; and the Spanish captain coming on board to surrender his sword, was told that the name of the ship was the “Royal Sovereign.”

“I think she should be called the ‘Royal Devil,’” he exclaimed in broken English, as he patted one of the guns with his hand.

When his illustrious friend fell mortally wounded, the chief command devolved on Collingwood, who, for his brave exploits and signal services on this and former occasions, was created a peer, honored with the thanks of Parliament, and rewarded with a pension and the freedom of several cities. On the day following the victory he issued an order for a general thanksgiving to Almighty God, for having mercifully crowned the exertions of the fleet with success. His position now became peculiarly arduous and difficult. He had the responsible task of managing the political relations of England with the countries bordering on the Mediterranean, in addition to discharging the duties appertaining to his naval command. He encountered them with an unremitting industry, which speedily brought on a disease fatal to his health. Yet believing that it was his duty to do so, and that he might live once more to meet the French, he remained at his post, shattering his frame with toil, fatigue, and exposure, and racking his mind with perpetual care and thought. At length his body began to swell and his legs to shrink; so that his removal to England was represented as indispensable. He accordingly surrendered his command, and embarked; but he was not destined to set foot on the soil whose freedom and sacredness he had spent his strength in guarding. On the 7th of March, 1810, he expired at sea, in his sixtieth year.

His end was calm, peaceful, and resigned; as his life had been just, exemplary, and benevolent. Throughout he had been sincerely religious, and most regular in his attendance at divine worship. Even on Sundays, when the weather was such that the crew could not assemble on deck, he was in the habit of retiring to his cabin, and reading the service for the day. His piety was utterly without pretense; his acts of charity were frequent; and his ear was never shut against a representation of real distress. He was strictly scrupulous in his respect for inferiors, and particularly anxious for the interests of those over whom he had authority. His disposition was most repugnant to the exercise of severity; and though no man was better qualified by nature to enforce proper discipline, his humanity and refined sentiment rendered him averse to doing so by extreme means. He looked up to his Creator with devotion and gratitude, and he regarded the lowly with kindness and generosity.

On their arrival in England, the bones of this brave and worthy admiral were consigned to the dust in St. Paul’s Cathedral, hard by the spot where the ashes of Nelson repose. A monument has since been erected to his memory by a grateful public; and his services well deserved such a recognition from a free people. He lived, in deed and in truth, not for himself, but for his country; and he knew no fear but the fear of God. He had, indeed, nobly done his duty to the last, sacrificing all personal considerations, with patriotic disinterestedness. Domestic enjoyment, quiet, health, life itself, were in his eyes nothing compared with the preservation of our shores and liberties from the great, skillful, and mighty foe, who planned earnestly and labored anxiously for their conquest and destruction.

LORD TEIGNMOUTH.

This estimable and religious man was not endowed with any of the splendid intellect of Pitt, nor with any portion of the brilliant genius of Burke; yet his abilities were such, and so sufficiently recognized, that the former, when in the pride of place and power, thought prudent to nominate him for a trust hardly less important than his own, though without family influence or connections; and the latter, when denouncing the administration of affairs in the East, to protest against the appointment with feelings of which contempt assuredly formed not one of the ingredients. Indeed, his career, so remarkably successful and extraordinary, presents a pleasing and inciting example of a person ungifted with any marvelous capacity raising himself to become the peaceful and spotless ruler of millions of human beings.

The family from which he derived descent was of considerable antiquity in the county of Derby; and in former days several of its members had been returned to the House of Commons. Being connected, as times changed, with India by a matrimonial alliance, one of the race became a captain in the Company’s marine; and his son, while in the enjoyment of a lucrative situation as supercargo, married, for the second time, the daughter of an officer belonging to the same service, and had two sons; of whom John Shore, destined to fill one of the most splendid places on the face of the earth, was born in London, on the 5th of October, 1751. He was subsequently removed into Essex, where his parents usually resided; and there the infancy of the future Governor-general of India, was passed, much like that of other boys of his age and condition.

These were the good old-fashioned days, when parents were not nervously apprehensive of any fatal effects from dressing their sons in garments befitting their sex, and allowing them that degree of liberty consistent with a proper attention to order. Accordingly, at a very early age, Shore availed himself of the license afforded him, and contrived, by hook or by crook, to find his way to the roof of a very high barn, the most elevated part of which he bestrode with an utter and lucky unconsciousness of the extreme danger to which he was exposed. Fortunately he was rescued from this perilous resting-place without any mishap; and, probably with a view of keeping him out of such mischief in future, he was mounted every morning on one of the coach-horses, before his father’s serving-man, and in this fashion rode to a school in the vicinity; to be initiated into learning at this rustic establishment, and into the ways of the world as understood by the juveniles who attended it. He was in good time removed to a seminary at Tottenham; and about the same date he lost his much-respected father: but the surviving parent was a woman of highly estimable character, polished manners, and with such an annual income as enabled her to give her two sons a liberal education.

Shortly after the melancholy event alluded to, John Shore was destined to the service of the East India Company, while he was yet a little boy, with a spare frame, but sinewy, and such as fitted him to take part in, and enjoy puerile sports and pastimes. This arrangement was brought about by an old friend of the family, who was perhaps glad to secure for the Company the prospective services of so thorough-bred an aspirant as the son of a supercargo and the grandson of a captain in their marine, unquestionably, might claim to be. The offer of a writership was thus made, and, as a matter of course, promptly accepted. This affair being satisfactorily settled, Shore was removed to a school at Hertford, where he delighted in being admitted to an excellent library to improve his mind and extend his information. He, moreover, gratified a natural taste for poetical compositions by rising early in the morning to feast his spirit on Pope’s “Homer;” and he perused books of travel till his imagination had been taken captive with the idea of such adventure, that he longed, with as much enthusiasm as he was capable of, to go on some expedition of discovery. Such a desire would, in all probability, be rather heightened than otherwise by the prospect of ere long sunning himself beneath an Eastern sky; and apparently his general interest in such matters did not soon expire, from the anxiety he afterward manifested to possess some account of Sir Joseph Banks’s voyage round the world, which otherwise would have been of little moment to a youth exercising judicial functions in India at the age of twenty, or thereabouts. While at Hertford, Shore had what he considered a miraculous escape from drowning, and which he ever afterward ascribed to a special interposition of Providence in his behalf. Along with a young companion, he had gone to bathe in a river in the neighborhood of the school; and, in their haste and carelessness, they had mistaken a deep pool for the place where they usually immersed themselves. They were just on the point of plunging in when a voice called on them to wait, and, at the moment, an equestrian appeared at their side, quite as suddenly and opportunely as the two strange horsemen did at Lake Regillus. He demanded if they could swim, and on being answered in the negative, threatened them with a sharp castigation unless they walked off immediately. Thus menaced, and considering that they were at the moment liable to be lashed with peculiar facility and effect, the gentle youths clutched up their raiment, and, in fear and trembling, fled from the spot.

While encouraging and cultivating his turn for general literature, Shore had not lagged behind his fellows in the proper studies of the school; and in the course of time he was sent to Harrow, then flourishing under the auspices of Dr. Sumner. There he was placed on the fifth form, between Sheridan and Halhead; Dr. Parr being tutor of the three. Shore applied himself to his classic studies, and showed so keen a sense of their beauties that he became a great favorite with the learned and fastidious head-master; though it was augured, that of the three leading boys, Halhead was the one destined to immortal distinction. And while events were proving the fallacy of this prognostication, Harrovian prophets were preparing another proof of the vanity of human anticipations by assigning to Sir George Sinclair the prospective triumphal crown in preference to Lord Byron and Sir Robert Peel. Shore left when on the point of succeeding to the captaincy of the school. When Warren Hastings, at once the ablest and most unscrupulous governor whom India ever saw, obtained a writership and was shipped off to Bengal, his withdrawal from studies which seemed likely to make so clever a youth one of the first scholars of the age not only elicited an indignant remonstrance from the master of Westminster, but even prompted that worthy individual to make the generous and disinterested offer of sending so promising a pupil to Oxford at his own expense; but it does not appear that the fate of the future friend, associate, and successor of Hastings, excited equal interest or pity in the breast of Dr. Sumner. However, their intimacy had become such that a correspondence was commenced between them, which did not cease till death put a period to it.

When Shore left Harrow, it was found that, however accomplished his education had rendered him generally, he was by no means possessed of a kind of knowledge which the Company required their servants to be perfect in,――namely, the keeping of accounts with correctness. In order, therefore, to qualify himself for the post to which he had been nominated, Shore was placed for a few months at an academy at Hoxton, where he was initiated into the mysteries of arithmetic and book-keeping, and fitted to enter upon and pursue his duties, and return with a fortune, if he escaped Asiatic tigers and the yellow fever. The seminary, strangely enough, contained a young nobleman, destined, like Shore, to enact the part of Governor-general of India, namely, the Marquis of Hastings, whom, half a century later, he had an opportunity of reminding of their early acquaintance, when the stately peer was on the point of embarking on the administration of the affairs of that empire which had been preserved and rendered durable by the vigor and courage of his great namesake.

Toward the close of 1768 Shore sailed from England, in company with about a dozen of writers and cadets, who proved a most disorderly set; and about the middle of the next year he set foot in Calcutta, which then consisted of tenements, whose appearance promised any thing rather than comfort to the weary and storm-tossed voyager. Nothing aspiring even to the dignity of a brick house was to be seen, however inelegant such a structure may be thought; and the town was rendered unhealthy by exposure to open drains, which emitted smells little resembling those of rose-water or meadow hay. This was no agreeable place of residence for a lad whose health was so impaired that the companions of his voyage almost gave him up as lost. Nevertheless, he bore up against all disadvantages, though scarcely having a single letter of introduction; and was, soon after his arrival, consigned for twelve months to a desk in the secret political department, where he labored with exemplary industry at the records. Though his income was fearfully small, he practiced the most stern economy rather than rely on his mother for assistance; while so rare and rigid was his integrity, in an age when Indian officials did not scruple to help themselves, and thus make up for their limited salaries, that he won the meritorious appellation of “honest John;” which in subsequent life, and in the midst of multitudinous temptations, he never was guilty of forfeiting.

In 1770 Shore was nominated assistant to the Provincial Council at Moorshedabad, where, deprived of all real power, the Nabob of Bengal still resided, with princely magnificence, and played at government. While holding this office, the young writer had the unexpected good fortune to be elevated to the responsible position of a judge, at the immature age of nineteen. The fact of his being invested with large and important juridical functions, furnishes a pretty strong illustration of the remark of Hastings, as to “the boys of the service” being “the sovereigns of the country.” But this charge, so far from overwhelming Shore, called forth the innate steadiness and perseverance of his character; and he discharged the duties with so much success, that, though he decided no fewer than six hundred cases in a single year, there were not more than two appeals against the justice of his adjudication. Meanwhile his leisure hours were diligently devoted to the improvement of his mind, and to preparation for climbing the steep ascent that yet lay, enveloped in shadow, between him and the height he was destined to reach with honor and security. Perceiving what profit might arise from an acquaintance with the Oriental languages, his industry was immediately aroused to the undertaking; and he strove for proficiency in the Arabic, Persian, and Hindostanee tongues. He did not neglect his former learning, but kept a journal in Latin, that the language might remain fresh in his memory, and read from several Greek authors with a similar object. Still he imagined that the road to fortune and affluence was daily narrowing, and complained that hope, patience, and perseverance, were all he had left; though most people would be inclined to consider such qualities very sufficient capital for an intelligent youth who had hardly arrived at legal age. He was still regretting that he had left England, when, after employing his knowledge of Oriental languages before the Provincial Council at Moorshedabad, he was appointed a member of the Board of Revenue, and thus plunged into that long quarrel which was, as years rolled on, transferred from the council-chamber of Calcutta to Westminster Hall. He owed this promotion to the opponents of Hastings, and was, besides, inclined to sympathize in their opinions; but he could not regard the distracted state of affairs in British India without dreading the influence it might have on his personal fortunes. He felt the extreme difficulty that there was of taking any course without endangering his prospects, and he looked to the future with a gloomy eye. At this crisis his good angel appeared, in the shape of a sagacious old gentleman; who, after listening to his expressions of doubt and anxiety, said, “Young man, make yourself useful, and you will succeed.” Shore, luckily for his own interests, accepted the maxim as the rule of his life and conduct,――frequently repeated it to, and inculcated it on, others; and he found the system it enjoined wonderfully efficacious in promoting his interests under divers circumstances. His opinions and feelings were avowedly hostile to the supremacy of Hastings; and he was employed to revise one of the bitter philippics launched by the vain and rancorous Francis against the dread governor, when the star of the latter was thought to have fallen. Add to this, that Shore lent his pen to prepare a memorial against the Supreme Court of Judicature, and its chief-justice, Sir Elijah Impey, the former school-fellow, and now unprincipled tool, of Hastings. These matters he managed with all the skill and dexterity possible in the position of affairs; yet when Francis, baffled and utterly routed, beat a retreat, it was with no small reason that Shore conceived himself in danger of being consigned to adversity. But his efforts to “make himself useful” had been so apparent, that his services were deemed well worth securing.

The now triumphant governor, however, bore no good-will to Shore. He did not forget that the latter had been among the allies of his adversaries; and his nature, though in some respects great, and even heroic, was not forgiving, any more than righteous or merciful. Yet when he abolished the provincial councils, and instituted the Supreme Council of Four, the first man whom he appointed to a seat in it recommended that Shore should have the second. Hastings expressed much astonishment at such a proposal: but his adviser answered, “Appoint Mr. Shore, and in six weeks you and he will have formed a friendship.” The prediction proved perfectly true; Shore held his position thus conferred for years, and frequently had to appear as chief of the Board during the absence of Hastings from the seat of government. He remained in India till Hastings quitted it, in 1785, with triumphal honors. They sailed for England in the same ship, and, during the voyage, Hastings addressed to Shore an imitation of an ode of Horace――an occupation of time which might not have occurred had he scented the fiery tempest that was awaiting his arrival.

When separated from the delightful companion of his voyage, whose conversation had been so pleasing, Shore, the ever-prosperous hero of one maxim, had, unfortunately, no opportunity of practicing it. His mother had died the year before, and he was thus deprived of the pleasure which he had often looked forward to enjoying in her society. He felt dull and solitary: he had been absent from the country for more than sixteen years, and, doubtless, many of the old friends who had watched his youthful career with interest and satisfaction, had sunk into the grave. His confirmed Indian habits were not quite convenient; he felt the want of sympathy; and, perhaps, he began to make the appalling discovery that it is not good for man to be alone, and that a helpmate would be particularly acceptable. At all events, as fortune had hitherto bestowed upon him success in life, chance now threw a little romance in his way.

His younger brother had been educated to the clerical profession, and was at this time residing with his wife near Exeter. Thither Shore――tired of himself, of his London friends, and of walks over Westminster bridge before breakfast in cold November mornings――bent his way. On arrival he found that his brother and sister-in-law were from home; but he found full and complete consolation for their absence. A snow-storm had detained at the house a young lady of great personal attractions, by whom he had the felicity of being courteously received and entertained. Their interview was fatal to any dreams of celibacy in which Shore might have indulged. Suddenly crept around his heart a flame which would have seemed more natural in the gay and gallant inhabitants of places where Italian maidens lean on marble balconies on warm nights, and listen to lovers’ tales, than in the sage and reflecting descendant of the ancient couple, in whose memory “the Shore trees,” sung of by Wordsworth, were planted on the summit of the Oker Hill; and who, moreover, had just exchanged his dwelling amidst the garden-houses of Eastern nabobs for the frost and sleet of an English winter. But if his love was as sudden and inspiring as Romeo’s, it was destined to be more happy in its results. Before the sun had gone down his affections were engaged; he retired to rest, doubtless pondering on what a day may bring forth; he was now as resolute in cultivating his charmer’s favor, as he had formerly been in making himself useful: ere three months had gone over she was his wife; and, during half a century, they had cause to be grateful for the Providential snow-storm.

Within the fortnight after his marriage, Shore, perhaps for the first time in his life, found it extremely difficult to act on the principle which had hitherto proved so advantageous. He was offered a seat in the Supreme Council of Three, established under Pitt’s India bill, and requested to return to the East, where it was anticipated that his experience would be of infinite value to Lord Cornwallis, the newly-appointed governor. His situation was a little perplexing; but at length he consented to forego the blessings of home for the sake of advancing his fortunes, which were of greater consequence since he was no longer single. He accordingly sailed from Portsmouth, and sought refuge from his dark and distressing thoughts in a perusal of the Company’s records. He had again abundant opportunities of proving his industry and usefulness; and particularly employed himself in the settlement of the revenues of Bengal, Behar, and Oresa; and in 1789, with increased reputation but impaired health, set his foot once more on his native soil. He took up his residence in the county where his infancy had been spent, and appeared as a witness at the trial of Hastings, of whose conduct he did not wholly approve; though he thought himself bound to treat it with indulgence.

The adventures of John Shore were not yet ended. He was called upon once more to “make himself useful,” and to reap the fruits of having done so in times past. He had gone to Devonshire to take a long lease of a house there, when intelligence reached him that Lord Cornwallis had resigned his high office, and that the succession to it was within his grasp. Pitt wished to introduce into the English empire in the East the pacific system which he had led Parliament to enjoin, and rightly conjectured that Shore was the man to do so with effect. The offer, however, was so unexpected and undesired, that he at first resolved on declining the high distinction, and hurried to London to explain his reasons for taking such a course. On returning home and announcing this refusal to his wife, she disinterestedly begged him to sacrifice all domestic consideration; and thus persuaded, he declared he saw that he must be a great man in spite of his teeth, and received the splendid and lucrative appointment. Burke immediately protested against the office being filled by one who had been connected with Hastings; but the Court of Directors answered, that Shore was regarded by their body as one of the ablest and most upright servants of the Company. Having been previously created a baronet, he set sail in the autumn of 1792, and after a long voyage reached, in the brilliant capacity of Governor-general, the same town which he had once entered, apparently in a dying state, to write for an annual salary of twelve pounds a year, to pay an exorbitant rate for a wretched and unwholesome lodging, and to endure poverty with the consoling assurance that if he made himself useful he would succeed.

Soon after the arrival of Sir John Shore in India, the celebrated Sir William Jones died; and Shore, who afterward became the biographer of the great scholar, succeeded him in the presidency of the Asiatic Society. On taking the chair he paid an eloquent tribute to the virtues of his deceased friend. He took measures for the advancement of true religion in Bengal, and was corresponding with several eminent men on the subject when he was plunged into a war with the Rohillas――the sequel to that sanguinary contest upon which Hastings had entered under circumstances so unjustifiable. A single battle, however, settled the matter.

In 1796, Sir John Shore had introduced to him no less famous a personage than the future illustrious hero of Waterloo. On that occasion he remarked, that if Colonel Wellesley ever had an opportunity of distinguishing himself, he would do it greatly. It appears that Sir John was successful in such prophetic efforts; for he is related to have expressed a similar prediction in reference to Sir Robert Peel, when that eminent politician was entering upon his eventful and mutable career.

In 1797, Shore had the honor of an Irish peerage bestowed upon him; and next year relinquished his office, and sailed for England, when he was succeeded by the Marquis of Wellesley. The peaceful policy he had pursued then went out of fashion; it was condemned by his successors; and he took little concern in Indian affairs, though nominally a member of the Board of Control, and a privy-councilor of Indian appeals.

Long after returning to his native land for the third time, after a long, arduous, and successful career, when gliding quietly down the stream of life, Lord Teignmouth was nominated President of the British and Foreign Bible Society on its formation, a dignity, the duties of which he was well fitted to discharge. He was a man of the utmost philanthropy; and the spread of divine truth and light among nations and people sitting in darkness was an enterprise into which he was calculated to enter with an ardor assuredly not exhibited in his worldly pursuits, nor displayed in his poetic effusions.

The remainder of Lord Teignmouth’s private life was that of a refined and well-educated English gentleman. He appeared to his neighbors an amiable, estimable, and religious man, who could hardly have cared much for the pomp and power to which his usefulness had conducted him. He died in peace and honor, in 1833, leaving a name which is associated with industry, excellence, integrity, and humanity; not with high genius, indeed, but with all those qualities of heart and soul which give a man comfort and happiness during the days of his earthly pilgrimage, and impart consolation to his spirit in the hour when the lamp of life is flickering and about to expire.

DEAN MILNER.

In the middle of the last century, hard by a church dedicated to St. Mary――on a spot at that time considered somewhat rural in appearance, but since absorbed by the even then very populous town of Leeds――stood an humble, unornamented cottage, the outer door of which was studded with nails, like that of an ancient peel or a modern prison-house; and there a Yorkshire weaver, of the name of Milner, lived in comparative poverty. He is stated to have been characterized by sagacity, industry, and self-denial, but nevertheless had not proved particularly successful in the trade he followed; having besides, like many persons of a higher rank, suffered severely from the effects of the rebellion of 1745. Though not blessed with much intellectual culture, he had, as is common with his class, a full appreciation of the manifold advantages of a sound education; and vowed that he would not shrink from personal sacrifices that his children might at all events enjoy that invaluable possession. He was already the father of two boys, one of whom afterward attained worthy celebrity, when, on the 11th of January, 1750, Isaac Milner, the third of the family, first saw the light.

So many of those famous personages whose illustrious footprints have been traced in the foregoing pages, with a view to the encouragement of youths aspiring to excellence, could boast of gentle lineage and hereditary associations, that it is impossible not to experience something like a sensation of relief, and to feel the charm of variety, in turning to the career of a man without any such pretensions――not incited by the ambition of adding to a name that had been feared or respected in another day, and whose position in early life was not rendered easy by wealth, or “shone upon from the past.” Cradled under the roof of a cottage, apprenticed during seven years as a factory boy, and clutched from the loom by fraternal partiality, to be employed as usher in a provincial school, he raised himself by intellectual vigor and perseverance to places of honor and importance; and he was extolled among his great, learned, and reverend contemporaries, in his various characters of academic, historian, divine, and philosopher.

From infancy, or, in any case, as far back as his memory would go, Milner was animated by a strong affection for his elder brother, author of the well-known “Church History,” who, in pursuance of their sensible parents’ laudable resolution, had been placed at the grammar-school of the town. Doubtless, by one so closely united to him in bonds of tenderness and relationship, the future dean would in childhood be taught to read, and inspired with that restless and singular love of knowledge which rendered him, in later days, so peculiarly eager and ardent in the pursuit, acquisition, and investigation of any subject which circumstances brought under his notice or chance cast in his way, no matter how unconnected ordinary mortals might deem it with the regular duties and avocations pertaining to the station he occupied. The elder brother, originally intended to pursue his father’s trade, soon became so distinguished in the school, that one of the teachers was in the habit of recommending his pupils to apply to Joseph Milner’s memory in regard to questions of history and mythology, observing that he was more easily consulted than dictionaries, or the Pantheon, and quite as much to be relied on. The natives of the hamlet speedily began to gaze at him as a “marvelous boy,” and testified their respect by calling him “the learned lad.” Nor at the fireside of the family cottage did he lack encouragement. The earnest artisan manifested the utmost desire that the young scholar should have every aid within their reach to promote his improvement in learning, and one Saturday night astonished the little circle by the tidings that he had just spent the money which ought to have purchased a joint of meat on a Greek book for his son, being unable to procure both out of the slender earnings of the week. The brothers forced their way together through great difficulties; each arrived at distinction in his sphere of labor; and perhaps few more pleasing instances of brotherly love continuing could be cited than that which they, from first to last, exhibited. As early as his sixth year, little Isaac was led by the hand of his future benefactor to school, whither he continued to trudge daily for some years under the same guidance and protection. His progress in juvenile studies was most rapid and satisfactory: he soon learned to translate Ovid and Sallust with tolerable correctness; and he, in due time, commenced taking lessons in Greek, under auspices which must have delighted his father’s heart, and tempted his imagination, however calm, to indulge in visions of a golden future for the hopeful boy.

In the ninth year of his age, Milner’s young mind had the advantage of being opened and impressed by a visit to the mighty metropolis, though how, at that date, he happened to be taken on such a journey unfortunately does not appear. However, he is related to have been in London when news of the capture of Quebec by General Wolfe arrived. It was bawled through the streets by watchmen at the midnight hour, and bonfires blazed in triumph; and then he was told, for the first time, about grim-visaged war and the odious French. Assuredly he heard enough of them before the close of his long life, in that age of great and portentous events.

About this period the father of the Milners was cut off amidst his efforts to educate his offspring and promote their welfare; and thus seemed to be defeated all the wishes and hopes which the cleverness of the traveled little lads had created in the bosoms of their friends. It was necessary, indeed, to make the best of matters; and the elder brother being otherwise disposed of, it was deemed prudent to put Isaac out to a trade. The town being one of the greatest markets for woolen cloth in the kingdom, the inhabitants of the surrounding villages were employed in the manufacture. Accordingly, Milner was sent to work at and be initiated into the mysteries of a factory, which, in his case, must have been sadly against the grain. Kirke White, when placed in a situation somewhat similar, complained of being most unhappy, and of wanting something to occupy his brain. And Milner, doubtless, had little more relish than the boy-poet of “Clifton Grove,” who perished in his youthful fame, for the trade to which he was now apparently doomed for life. To a youth conscious of great abilities, and whose extraordinary faculties had been already recognized by teachers, such an occupation must have been almost worse than the labor of a slave; for, praiseworthy as aspirations after success, arising from the practice of such honest industry, may generally be, they were not of the kind to call forth those talents which subsequently made their possessor president of a college, vice-chancellor of a university, professor in the chair that had been occupied by Newton, dean of a cathedral, and one of the most fascinating conversers of his generation in the country that produced him, and also one of the most celebrated mathematicians and philosophers of his day. He studied, during hours not devoted to work, Greek and Latin books; probably perused on Sundays the “Pilgrim’s Progress,” which was always a source of real pleasure to his spirit; and perhaps even gained some acquaintance with the works of Shakspeare, Milton, and other great English authors, with which he was familiar in his advanced years. He was soon to have larger opportunities and a fitter scene for the refreshment and cultivation of his powerful mind, thirsting for knowledge.

The rector of the grammar-school had manifested much interest in the young Milners; and they were not quite unaided in their hour of need. By the generous exertions of several kind friends, and the well-timed liberality of others, Joseph, the elder brother, had been sent to Cambridge, and had there so conducted and distinguished himself, that when he left the university the head-mastership of the Hull grammar-school was conferred upon him, principally by the influence of the grandfather of Wilberforce, an appointment which led to a friendship not unimportant in its results to the gentle philanthropist, and to the success of the views he held. And now the heart of Joseph Milner was turned toward the prospects of his brother, and he pondered what could be done to promote his welfare and happiness. He therefore requested one of the clergymen in Leeds to examine the lad, in order to ascertain and report as to his qualifications for becoming usher in the school. The reverend gentleman thus commissioned proceeded to the factory, where he found Milner seated at work with a classical author on each side. An examination fully proved, that though removed for a considerable time from school, his diligence and love of learning had, in the mean time, amply supplied the place of instruction, and that he was quite competent to undertake with propriety, and discharge with credit, the tutorial duties in question. There still remained the important part of the business, which consisted in obtaining to the youth’s leaving the factory the consent of the owner, who, however, does not appear to have been so severe a taskmaster as the imaginary Wodgate Bishop. In any case, after a brief negotiation, he agreed to forego the remaining years of the apprenticeship; and entering the work-place, he made the heart of young Milner leap with joy and rejoice at the magic words, “Isaac, lad, thou art off!” In after years, he did not forget the comrades by whose side he had toiled and spun. He was ever really and unaffectedly humble; ready to acknowledge his original companions, and to minister to their necessities if they were poor. He was never ashamed of his juvenile employment, nor had he reason to be so; and when he encountered those who had known or labored with him in obscurity, it was with the same frankness, courtesy, and cordiality, but at the same time with the shrewdness, animation, and intrepidity, with which he met lordly guests at Rose or Lowther Castle. In this way he showed his rare nobility of soul.